A Fast Ticking Clock
So much depends upon
a fast ticking clock
and an annoyed parent
telling me to hurry.
— Rachel Hazelwood, 12, grade 6, Gaithersburg
Arctic Fox (inspired by Valerie Worth)
The orange fox, stark still, bristles fur, from the cold, of snow, bunches hind legs, then charges with ears pricked, jumps, flies with body stretched out. Plummets at an arch, detects something, under the snow, bushy tail waving like a flag, timing his landing: then he lunges, teeth bared, straight into the snow, and catches a mouse: Who would believe that this isn’t a miracle?
— Ella Kim, 11, grade 6, Silver Spring
Maddy and The Eternal Sleep
I awoke with a start. Opening my eyes to what seemed like an abyss of darkness, I couldn't help asking myself the uncanny question; why am I awake?
As my eyes adjusted to the inky darkness, I could barely make out the iridescent glare of my digital alarm clock. It signaled that it was still 3 a.m. As soon as I sat up and left my toasty blanket behind, the frigid air seemed to nip at any exposed skin. So, I dove back under the inviting warmth of the blanket. I came to the sudden realization that I needed to tinkle. In fact the urge was so strong that I practically ran down the hall to the bathroom.
As I passed the stairwell, I saw my parents; my father was holding my mother's shoulders tightly in a failed attempt to comfort her while my mother held her head in her hands. She silently wept. As I watched this scene, I immediately knew that something was wrong. My mind raced for possible explanations. Then suddenly the thought came into my mind. Could it be? As soon as I asked the question my heart did somersaults, “Is Maddy dead?”
Maddy was our dog. We had just gotten her a month before from a rescue dog shelter. Maddy was very cute with a slightly wild side, probably owing to the time she’d spent in various kennels around the country. I looked at my mother's tear-soaked face longing to be mistaken, but all my mother did was nod her head solemnly. It felt like I had just been stabbed with a knife. All I could feel was gut-wrenching sadness. My breaths became shorter and my knees began to buckle. Still light-headed I stumbled down the stairs, bracing myself for the horrendous sight of my deceased dog. There she was in her usual place, a small plastic pen where she slept. Only this time, she didn't move. She had been fine just two days before. She had received her second vaccination and had been a little down that morning, but when we called the veterinarian, he said that was normal. So why was she lying there now, lifeless? As soon as I saw her lifeless body, I looked into her huge frantic eyes and the fragile face that I had kissed so many times. Her delicate lips morphed into the fatal breath that consumed her life. Hardly, believing that this could be real, I violently shook and sobbed on my father's shoulder.
I lifted my blotchy, tear-soaked face and looked at my father, hoping for reassurance that this was just a nightmare, but none came. Even though my father had huge tears pouring down his face, and my mother was still weeping she managed to utter that my little brother, amazingly, was not awake yet. All puffy-eyed we debated whether to wake up my little brother Sean or just bring Maddy to the hospital to be cremated. We decided that he would never believe that Maddy had really died if we did not show him, so we decided to wake my peacefully sleeping little brother. Finally I got up the nerve to wake him.
On weak legs I wobbled up the stairs to tell my brother. As soon as I told him the dreadful news his expression changed from sleepy to horrified. He asked me to pinch him to make sure that this wasn't a nightmare. As soon as he understood that Maddy was dead he burst into tears. He screamed and cried and woke up the whole neighborhood. As we all hugged each other, the pain seemed to consume us. Life itself seemed to be made of pure sadness. After a while we made our decision. My father laid Maddy into a sturdy box along with her favorite cover and left with her in the car. A few minutes later my mother sent my brother and me to sleep.
As soon as she said the word sleep, it feel like huge elephants were sitting on my eyelids. With the last of my strength, I made the journey up the stairs one more time. As soon as my head hit the pillow I drifted off to sleep. Suddenly, I saw her. Maddy was standing in the garden beckoning me to run and play with her. We played together and I feel happy again but I knew it's just a dream. I hope morning will not come soon.
— Natascha Levine, 11, grade 6, Silver Spring
Mean
Mean is a stain in my shirt The thorn in my shoe The bad apple in the barrel. Mean is the red hot feeling of revenge The crowbar that pries out friendships The microwave that melts kindness The drop of poison that infects the water. Most of all mean is the fire that consumes happiness.
— Natascha Levine, 11, grade 6, Silver Spring
The Tabby Tux
That little tabby tux, Rolling in the grass. That little tabby tux, Smacks your favorite vase, SMASH!
Looks up at you, With eyes of shame. “I’m sorry” she whines “I broke your vase.”
Even as she got older, She still had a spark. None of those dogs Would dare to bark.
In unpleasant times, Like cleaning her litter That old cat seemed to laugh As her eyes seemed to shimmer
Sadly you remember,
The day when she chased that clover. To where ever she is.
She chased it to the hill and then far far over.
Ever since you have wished For her starry gaze. But no matter how hard you wished Her gaze, it never came.
— Ezana Liben, 11, grade 6, Rockville