On April 6, the Crooked Tree Arts Center announced the winning entries from its annual Young Writers Exposition.

This spring, the exposition received over 150 submissions of poetry and prose written by school-age students throughout the Charlevoix-Emmet Intermediate School District. From that pool of writing, event jurors selected 18 winners and five honorable mentions.

Jurors included Michelle Boyer, Crooked Tree Arts Center Education Committee member; Edy Stoughton, retired educator; Jennifer Huder, Walloon Writers Review Editor-in-Chief; Penny Crim, Crooked Tree Arts Center volunteer and retired educator; Katie Pionk, McLean & Eakin Booksellers; and Tom Renkes, founding member of the Little Traverse Literary Guild and local author. 

The Young Writers Exposition is a collaboration between the Crooked Tree Arts Center, the Petoskey News-Review, the Bob Schulze Fund for Creative Writing at the Petoskey-Harbor Springs Area Community Foundation, the Little Traverse Literary Guild, McLean & Eakin Booksellers of Petoskey, and the Walloon Writers Review.

1st Place: “On the Farm” by Reese Hoffman – 5th Grade, St. Francis Xavier

On the farm where the long grass grows,

And the gentle wind blows,

And the birds fly through the trees,

The deer run across the fields

and everything here is free.

On the farm with the animal sounds,

and the kittens playing all around.

I feel such a relaxing charm

In my mother’s home cooked meals

While the horses rest in the barn

On the farm you hear the rosters call,

And my siblings and I throw around the ball,

There’s not a reason to frown,

not a happier place appeals,

Playing until the sun goes down.

2nd Place: “Four Seasons” by Alana Springborn – 2nd Grade, Homeschool

Red, orange, and yellow too

As they all fall to the ground

It will be spring soon

They emit bright colors too

The hot sun shines bright

Sunflowers grow t'ward the sun

3rd Place: “Baseball” by Cayden Wortman – 5th Grade, St. Francis Xavier

The sun is shining bright

as I throw on my cleats.

I go onto the field,

I feel the shining dew on my shoes.

The grass is freshly cut

and the paint has had just enough time to dry.

The leather on the ball is a perfect white,

and the seam is that amazing red.

I grip my bat and it feels light.

Each ball I hit meets the barrel perfectly.

I can smell the concessions,

The game is now starting,

as we all take the field.

The dirt is nice and soft,

the mound is fresh rubber,

the team and I really hope

we’ll have to wait.

Honorable Mention: “Poem of a Pig” by Joshua Mercer – 5th Grade, St. Francis Xavier

There once was a pig

A pig of which was big

It was a pig made of gold

This pig is lost in history

It still remains a mystery

Please put him out of his misery

If you do it will be our victory

And there will be no more trickery

The pig will no longer filled with witchery

The old gold pig will no longer be a mystery.

Honorable Mention: “Perfect” by Griffin Dunn – 5th Grade, St. Francis Xavier

My body trembles, I yearn to breathe.

My heart pounds, my lungs squeeze.

Pain, joy, sadness, and love

Are the only things I think above.

Inside my head, the thing I see.

You, the beautiful maiden she.

Her silky hair, her peachy cheeks.

Her sun tickled skin is like the mountain’s peaks.

The one thing my heart desires,

her personality, full of strength like fires.

When she comes outside, I’m filled with pride.

My friends say go I can’t you see,

she’s just too perfect for a guy like me!

The next day I wake, my heart feels strong.

Today’s the day I can’t be wrong!

Up to the house I gracefully walk,

She opens the door and begins to talk.

She begins to speak of her love for me

God has answered my prayers from earth, sky, and sea.

1st Place: “Whispers Behind Me” by Lillian Lamarche – 6th Grade, Harbor Springs Middle School

I hear something soft and quiet.

I turn around to see

Kids whispering and looking at me.

So I turn my head and look away.

Are they whispering about me?

What I look like, how I feel?

I try to push it away

But it comes back every single day.

How do I get rid of it?

Now I’m back to where I was standing

And I hear more whispers behind me.

I have to do something about this!

I go to my loved ones,

But where did they go?

I’m alone, all alone.

Can I save myself now?

I can try at least,

And maybe I’ll succeed.

When I’m back in the same place the next day,

But I won’t let them bring me down this time,

But the whispers follow me.

I wasn’t expecting this!

Letting themselves float away into the wind,

Not caring about a soul.

I have to stay strong.

But it's hard, so hard.

Can I do this any longer?

In the blink of an eye,

I see a figure walking towards me.

I’m scared at first, but its presence is reassuring.

It rests a hand on my shoulder

As if it was saying,

And now I’m back there again,

That figure gave me hope.

I’ll do it this time!

I’ve done this for too long,

And it's time for it to stop.

For them to stop bringing me down,

And I can still hear them.

I feel the figure’s presence again

And now I feel stronger.

I’m surrounded by people who love me.

The whispers slowly fade away,

And I look back at the figure.

I start to see it in more detail.

I always had someone with me.

2nd Place: “The Great Fire” by Tara Brantly – 7th Grade, Petoskey Middle School

It destroys everything in its path

The city of Chicago had wood hidden everywhere

Disguising itself in a layer of smoke

Smoke so thick no one can breathe

Smoke so fierce it stings the eyes

It feels as though it never will stop

It will have the last of the city

No matter how hard they try

The sky a furious color of red

Intimidation radiates through the air

Children being torn away from parents

Cries of fear ring out

The whole city in a hysterical panic

It’s now dying down

No one could save it

But not with a fairy tale ending

Chicago will never be the same

3rd Place: “Ode to a Dying Planet” by Elise Tebeau – 8th Grade, Petoskey Middle School

Ode to a Dying Planet

Pearl weed will never grow,

Stories will be left untold.

Now we dread the break of dawn.

Antarctica will lose the snow;

The progress that we hope to make,

Forgotten now; an empty ache.

The glaciers all have sunk so low,

While rising waters take their toll.

The world we have so selfishly borrowed,

Could be all but gone tomorrow.

We thread hope with broken string,

As forests burn down so readily.

The grasslands are all on fire,

Yet we pretend the situation is not so dire.

We burn fossil fuels so senselessly.

The government will turn their heads,

Then another species winds up dead.

Birds fly without their wings,

We are all choking on the air,

Yet people are impossible to scare.

We wonder if winter will ever come,

As glaciers face their ruination.

They all refuse the call to action,

Even if the work is but a fraction.

We see record highs and blame the sun,

While polar bears face starvation.

We wonder why the earth is shaking,

As the atmosphere is breaking.

Our thirst for oil is never done,

Have we made our own damnation?

We let the carbon steal away our breath,

when we are met with death.

Honorable Mention: “Pets” by Danny Murphy – 8th Grade, St. Francis Xavier

I once had a pet Wog

The son of a walrus and a frog

He was as big as a moose

But when his legs felt loose

He could jump ‘cross a mile wide bog

One day I could tell he was lonely

So I went to find him a friend…

I thought about getting him a dat

A mix between a dog and a cat

But the Dat was too busy chasing his tail so he wouldn’t play Wog

Since I had to find someone to play with Wog

I decided to look under a log

Under the log was my possible pet

But when I looked more closely it gave me a fret

Inside was a creature with 8 legs and two inch teeth!

It was a Snider that was hiding beneath

This wouldn't work I told myself

My Wog would hide from it on top of a high shelf

As I was thinking where to look for this odd shaped creature

I started looking for particular features

Something springy that could jump super high

Something that wouldn’t be crushed by wog’s giant figure

Something that wouldn't be scared or shy

My mind started clicking and the pieces started to configure

A Tigaroo is what I decided I should get

A kangaroo-tiger with a size 12 shoe

Now my wog is happily playing with a high hopping animal called a tigaroo

Hanna-Renkes/Jan Smith Literary Award: “Tick Tock” by Lucy Uy – 10th Grade, Boyne City High School

your hands move with the second

The only constant in this world,

The old man will age,

The child will no longer be a child anymore.

I will never escape you.

afraid of leaving this Earth,

I can´t stop you,

1st Place: “Falling Deeply Into America -Խորապես ընկնելով Ամերիկա” by Sadie Liddy – 12th Grade, Petoskey High School

Falling Deeply Into America - Խորապես ընկնելով Ամերիկա

Your words in my mouth flattened my tongue and stained like coins that rusted onto my gums in

And then when finally I could choke them back their sliced fragments echoed the dicing of dimes

That I heard ch-chang every time we’d cross a road in Midtown,

Your purple-flowered pinned purse clutched beneath the Goodwill flannel and

Even tighter your right hand clutching mine

Saying what I couldn’t and probably wouldn’t say

Putting the honks and the screams and the city scum to sedated slumber

Whispering back from the receding yew you

Embroidered on Papik’s work socks

The same whispering back Noah heard from high on Ararat

As voch’kharner welcomed him, grazing,

The same whispering you heard your own tatik

Like a halo you were crowned

Gleaming still in those lonely nights huddled in hiding basements damp

The same whispering I stuttered into

Ch-Chang-ing coins that clatter still

While your right hand clutches mine still

I know I never paid much attention to you while you were around,

But at eight years old

When school resumed in early January

And Kate Jacob and Charlie all rambled

On of new shoes and dolls and stuffed bears

I only could mentioned how you always prayed with your hands facing down

As if somehow the cracks in your hands aligned with mine

And said what our mouths couldn't

In our gnarled embrace all down that road in Midtown

And I just knew you knew of a time

A plane vacant of God

Where the winded sand whipped before settling on the bodies

The slabs where shadows once stood

Bodies of little ant hills rolling on the plane

And I just knew you knew of a time

Where you'd sit by a window silly

And think if you held your hands up just high enough

Those cracks could ride onto the corner of the

Sky with you and expand

Like the silhouette of a t’rrch’un on the horizon,

With wings wide enough to withstand you and Tatik, Papik, Mayrik, Hayrik, Anahid, and Arax

And feathers to fix all your fears with their float

And soft songs to steady you from the sights

Of lonely nights huddled in hiding basements damp.

If I had turned to you on Midtown

If I had braced through the metallic twang of words that

Flattened my tongue and stained like coins that rusted onto my gums

Or if my own cracks in my own hands

The same whispering back Noah heard from high on Ararat

As voch’kharner welcomed him, grazing,

I would whisper back to you

Like the secluded halo you were crowned

If one graveyard is better than the other.

2nd Place: “Roof Work Bullets” by Kaitlyn Hammerle – 12th Grade, Boyne Falls Public School

Roof Work Bullets (Inspired by Warsan Shire)

It is 8:15 a.m. 2 days after the Oxford High School shooting in Oxford Michigan.

I walk into school after seeing our American flag is at half-mast.

A cop greets me at the door;

I don't usually run this late but our keys got lost today.

I am asked if there was anyone behind me when I pulled up to school.

On any other day I think this question is harmless,

But today my blood runs cold.

They do not ask me this because the bell will ring soon;

They asked me this to be sure the cop sees every face that walks through the doors.

Those doors that are supposed to keep us inside,

Those doors that could be broken by any shot taken at them.

1:00 p.m. and our school is getting roof work done.

This is normal, but each footstep I hear on the roof freezes my heart,

And then lets it go once silence falls again.

1:30 p.m. I'm writing my name on a bubble sheet so I can begin my test.

Someone drops something big on the roof right above our heads.

Nothing happens, but never have I been so quick to hide myself,

To look one of my classmates in the eyes as to say “this is it.”

And “we have to take cover.” …

Our class falls silent, in quiet reflection of the events 2 days past.

I have never seen such fear in someone's eyes as I did with that classmate of mine.

I know above all that I looked just the same,

Wondering if that noise from above our heads was the first shot of many.

3:05 p.m. I ride the bus home, after waving to the police officer standing at our doors.

I walk from my bus stop towards my house.

I put my feet in my door.

A pleasure those Oxford kids didn't get the chance to have,

9:00 p.m. I wash my face, brush my teeth, and climb into bed.

I think of those kids who will never go to college,

Who won’t get to have families of their own,

whose families are now trying to fill the space left behind by them,

As I drift into sleep,

My dreams are filled with gunshots,

And the blood of my classmates soaking our schools’ carpets.

Those doors did not stop the gun,

The officer was the first one dead.

3rd Place: “Just a Sip” by MaKayla Ramsay – 9th Grade, Harbor Springs High School

No heavy loads to heave,

Only light weight to pull.

Try a sip, just a sip,

A sip, just a sip,

It doesn’t matter the size.

Now clothes must be elegant.

Try a sip, just a sip,

It will put an end to the stress.

A sip, just a sip,

It will lead you to success.

They scream and they cry.

No expressions can be calm,

Try a sip, just a sip,

The pain will go away.

A sip, just a sip,

It will leave you feeling okay.

Try a sip, just a sip,

The desire for it is immense.

A sip, just a sip,

Though, it comes at an expense.

A drink is all that’s left.

The world becomes less sunny,

The last resort is theft.

Try a sip, just sip,

Its ingredients leave you craving.

A sip, just a sip,

Its grim effects are engraving.

Was enough to be put behind bars.

Try a sip, just a sip,

That’s what they said.

A sip, just a sip,

An inch away from being dead.

Honorable Mention: "Exorcism of a Moth" by Anna Cockfield  –  12th Grade, Petoskey High School

Silly pea-brained bugs. Always running into windows, always running into spiders’ webs, always running. Watch

them stumble and buzz, flicker and fly and fall to the bottom of the lamp, dead. Always dead. Always running.

Humans know better than to run, but maybe they just have nowhere to go. Where bugs are always running to, towards

the light or away from the dark or to nothing, to something better than what nothing used to be. That moth, just there,

it’s been fluttering near the overhead for a long while. Thirty minutes, or all night. Kill it or it keeps going.

Kill it or it keeps going. One wing down, what, no blood? Do moths bleed? No blood, then. It should still feel like

loss, but there’s nothing to spill. Kill it. Keep going. It twitches a little, on the ground now but it makes no noise,

do moths make noise? This is the kind of thing that’s known, typically. Keep up. Kill it or keep going. Which

one, then, what next. Where to run to. Two paths diverged in a yellow wood and one said kill it and one said keep

going and the leaves were too thick on the ground to measure the choice of any prior traveler and poor Mr. Frost

must have been in another wood, not this one. He found his way home. Did he kill it or keep going? Silly bug, silly

moth, always running, you know what he chose. There may have been some wood, sometime, but the moth was too

busy running and flew right past it. Right past kill it and keep going and into the open arms of what should be an

exorcism. Tear a moth apart and it doesn’t bleed, it runs. Kill it and keep going. Let a moth go free and all of a

sudden it’s not quite like it was before. It’s very hard to catch a moth that’s already been released. You write kill it

and you write keep going and the moth looks happy on paper. Tell me, once you get back, if you enjoyed the

warmth of the sun. Tell me if it might have been worth running for.

1st Place: “The G.O.A.T. Squad” by Will Marshall – 5th Grade, St. Francis Xavier

G.O.A.T. Squad

BAM! BOOM! The potato guns were firing everywhere. The tomato grenades were exploding all around them. The G.O.A.T. Squad was covered and they had nowhere to go.

It was a hot Colorado day on their farm. It was also lunchtime for the G.O.A.T. Squad. The G.O.A.T. Squad is an elite group of goats that go on secret missions. One morning when they walked into the barn to get their grain, they realized that someone took it. They were shocked. They couldn’t believe that someone took the most elite group of goats’ food. They all agreed that night that they would search the farm to find the perpetrator.

That night, the G.O.A.T. Squad put on all of their night vision equipment and headed out. It was very quiet and they had to be careful that they didn’t make any noise. They checked the pig’s barn first. After asking some questions they decided that the pigs were too lazy to steal the food and they would’ve made such a racket that all of the farm animals would think that a twister was going through. Interrogating the pigs had taken so much time that they could only go to one more animal barn. They discussed it and decided that they would go to the big animal barn. They had to split up so that they could question more animals at once. Again, they hit a dead end. That could only mean that the chickens took their grain. The chickens had a bad reputation so they would interrogate them in the morning when they could wear all of their gear.

The next morning they checked to make sure that their gear was ready in case the chickens tried to attack. They made sure their potato guns and tomato grenades were in working order. Then BAM, they kicked down the barn door. They caught the chickens red handed. Some of them were even eating the grain. ATTACK! The G.O.A.T. Squad charged. The chickens charged. The goats were clearly outnumbered and outgunned. BAM! BOOM! POW! The goats took cover behind some hay stacks. BAM! BOOM! The potato guns were firing everywhere. Tomatoes were exploding everywhere. The G.O.A.T. Squad was covered and they had nowhere to go. They had some things though that the chickens would never have, the ability to eat anything. After taking a deep breath they charged towards the chickens eating all of the tomatoes and potatoes. It took the chickens by surprise. The chickens ran away, but the G.O.A.T. Squad caught up and put them in wingcuffs. Then the goats sent them away to bird jail.

The next day the goats were interrogating the chickens in their cell when they discovered an awful truth… the chickens were part of a secret mafia called the E.G.G., which stands for Evil Grain Grabbers. After pushing on the chickens they learned that the E.G.G. headquarters is under the Empire State Building in New Pork. The headquarters could only be opened by a special key card at room 111. They tried to tempt the chickens to get a key card and it worked. Once they were finished, they wrapped things up and headed back to the farm. Now they had to get some rest because it was going to be a long trip to New Pork.

The next day, they got themselves ready and boarded an airplane destined for New Pork. During the flight they called President Woodchuck Wilson because they needed a pumpkin launcher tank in case a fight broke out between the G.O.A.T. Squad and the E.G.G., and they needed some backup.

When they landed in New Pork they were greeted by the U.S. Army Ants at the airport. After that they got into a helicopter and headed to the secret base where they would be staying until the E.G.G. were defeated.

The next day, they received the tank and were ready for battle. When they left they got an escort by the police to the Empire State Building. Once they got there the Army Ants stayed with the tank outside and the goats went up to room 111 and put the card in. CREAK. The door slowly swung open. There were already some chickens there. CRACK! The goats knocked out the chickens but not before the chickens sounded the alarm. CLUCK, CLUCK! The G.O.A.T Squad ran outside hoping that the chickens would follow them. When the chickens ran out it sent a chill down the goat’s spine. There were at least 100 chickens. Pumpkins were flying everywhere. The Army Ants and goats were shooting potatoes and throwing tomato grenades everywhere. Some of the chickens were in such a hurry to get the goats that some of them forgot their weapons. In no time, the Army Ants and G.O.A.T. Squad surrounded the E.G.G. and they were arrested. They were all sent to bird jail. Now people could eat their grain without worrying that the E.G.G. would take it.

Later that week, President Woodchuck Wilson awarded them the medal of honor for their bravery.

2nd Place: “Kraken” by Mathew Parker – 5nd Grade, St. Francis Xavier

There once was a sea creature called the Kraken. It has survived for thousands of years. It lived in the deepest parts of the sea. It would only surface when ships passed over it. Most of the ships were fishing vessels from the local villages. The fishermen all knew the legend of the Kraken and were very scared of it. They still had to feed their families with fish, so they risked their lives. One day the Kraken attacked and sank a fishing vessel called the Blue Mayco. All 50 members of the crew died, except the captain. One of the crew members was named Marcas Stone. Mr. Stone had a son named Luke. When word of the attack made it back to the village, Luke was so upset. He made a vow to someday kill the Kraken.

Luke was only ten years old and was all alone with his mom now. Mrs. Stone would make Luke go to work with his Uncle Jake. Jake was the local blacksmith. Luke liked this alot because he liked watching metal being made into objects. He picked up the skills of a blacksmith quite quickly. While observing his uncle, he got a great idea. He would have his uncle teach him how to make weapons. These weapons could be used to someday kill the Kraken. Later that day Luke asked his uncle if he could show him how to make a weapon. His uncle said, “Yes, but you're going to have to get the materials yourself.” You will have to find ten dark dragon scales, three different types of metal and a piece of spruce wood.

Luke left the next day to pursue his items. While walking down the narrow trail to the forest, he found a double edged sword half buried in the thickets. As he pulled it out and lifted it to the sky, the sun reflected off of it and revealed the beautiful damascus steel it was made from. Luke could only think that it once belonged to a Viking warrior. It was like his dad placed it there for him. He now was very confident about his quest. Luke just needed to sharpen the sword before he found the dragon. He decided to get the two easy things first and deal with the dragon last.

The dragon’s lair was easy to find because of the rotten smell. Half eaten animals were laying all around. Luke walked in shaking, but was surprised to find the dragon asleep. With no sound, he snuck up close, lifted his sword and severed off the dragon’s tail. The good thing for the dragon is that it has no feeling in his tail and it grows back fast. Luke went back home and gave the prized items to his uncle the next day. Luke's uncle made the most powerful magical sword, a “Kraken Killer”’. It was a sword that can slice anything in half, even other forms of steel.

Luke knew it was finally time to face his destiny. It was all about him and the Kraken. He joined a Kraken hunting party that set sail for the abis.

Luke knew that it was this trip that he would find the kraken. The captain of the ship shouted, “We are now in deep water, keep our eyes open!” Suddenly the ship rocked from side to side. Giant tentacles rose above both sides of the ship. A horrible crunching sound was heard as the Kraken clamped down on the ship. Luke jumped into action with his sword. He gripped his sword with both hands and chopped off one of the Kraken’s arms. The Kraken responded by knocking Luke off his feet with another arm. Luke went tumbling, but so did his sword. As the Kraken came up to chew Luke up, the sword came down and hit the Kraken with a one clean kill shot between the eyes. The Kraken made a horrible screech and splashed in the water. The fight was over and the Kraken’s body sank to the bottom of the sea. The fear for the fisherman and the villagers was over. Luke was now at peace knowing that he had avenged his dad’s death. When he made it back to shore, Luke decided to get a fire going on the beach and cook some fish in his dad’s honor. While sitting by the fire and thinking of his dad, the clouds parted and allowed for the most beautiful sunset that Luke had ever seen. At that moment Luke knew his dad was with him in spirit, and he could rest well knowing the Kraken was dead….

Well, maybe not! Did the Kraken have babies?

3rd Place: “Billy” by Ethan Smock – 5th Grade, St. Francis Xavier

I have a crazy story to tell why Vulture City, AZ has a haunted mine in. They say that in 1896 there was a huge explosion that trapped 30 men underground. A man named Billy tried to save them, but none of the men were found alive. They say you can hear Billy’s screams for help today. I’m going there to find out if it’s true.

The winds were blowing softly, and lizards poke their heads out of broken windows. Tumbleweeds roll through the streets smoothly. I took a look around to find the mine in the mountain. I saw an entrance to the Vulture Mine. Even though it was getting dark, I decided to go in. When I went inside I felt something was off. There was a chill in the air, and my body was covered with goosebumps. I decided to walk further in when I heard a strange rumble. The ground began to shake freakishly for minutes then it just stopped. I stood up shaking, saying to myself I better pull myself together. I’m here to find ghosts. Suddenly I hear heavy footsteps below me. Thinking I should leave, I dashed to the exit through the darkness. I saw a speck of light but it wasn’t the exit. It was the only little open hole in the exit. I sat right down knowing I was trapped.

I decided to rest so I used my bag as a pillow. I thought to myself, “I’ll try to find a way out in the morning.” Just as I was about to close my eyes, I saw two big light green eyes coming right at me. I got scared but I couldn't identify what it was at the time. Suddenly the eyes just vanished. I went to sleep not thinking much of it, but in my dreams, I kept on seeing them. In the morning I got up to find a way out, when I heard the ghosts. I wasn’t sure what they were trying to say when those green eyes appeared again. As the eyes got closer, I realized that it wasn’t a ghost, but an owl. I thought he would fly away when I got close, but he landed on my arm. He was surprisingly friendly. As soon as he landed, he then flew away slowly. When I was a couple yards away, he stopped and made eye contact with me. He made a weird noise so I came closer to him. As soon as I did he flew away. I realized that he was trying to show me the way out. Finally I saw light! I ran as fast as I could and the owl was still with me. When I got out the owl stayed with me. I tried to make the owl go away, but he wouldn’t leave me. Now I live with an owl and I named him Billy.

Honorable Mention: “The Cliff” by Griffin Dunn – 5th Grade, St. Francis Xavier

I was skiing in Vail, Colorado. It was a warm winter day and the sun was shining. I was skiing in the back bowls which are full of groomed snow. Anyway, I was skiing down the mountain wishing my friend Will was here and thinking about how he loved to jump off the cliffs. I decided to find one of my own. Will always told me that they can’t be over 150 ft otherwise the powder turns to ice and you’ll break your legs. You have to make sure there is enough powder to break your fall or you’ll just do the same thing as if you hit a 150 foot cliff.

I found the perfect one! Not too high and not too short. It was my first time hitting a cliff and I had thought about how far off the trail I had wondered. As I started to move I thought no going back now! I launched off the cliff with my heart pounding, and yet I hadn't thought of the most important thing! Always tell the ski patrol before you jump!

My body was drenched in fear and I was frozen in the air. I couldn't move to stick the landing! The snow looked shiny! Oh no it’s Ice! This is why you ask the ski patrol if you can jump because they inspect every cliff in the back bowls before they open it!

I landed on the ice sideways as my skis ejected from beneath my feet. My head smacked the ice. SMACK! I suddenly had this horrible headache! My shoulders were in agony and my legs screamed in pain! I couldn’t move as I slid into the deep powder. I thought, “Where’s the powder when you need it?” “At least I have my tracker!” “Hopefully my friends find me by sun down.” I laid there for an hour. The last thing I heard before I blacked out was the sound of a chopper. I woke up in the hospital with a minor concussion, two broken ankles, a dislocated shoulder, a broken rib, deflated lung and a broken hip.

The first visitor that came to see me was Will! He told me what happened and how he was going to surprise me on the ski hill. When he got there, he noticed that I stopped dead in my tracks off a cliff. He asked the ski patrol about the cliff and they said no one could land it, especially a beginner! They sent the chopper over and rushed me to the hospital. And that's that! If it weren’t for Will I wouldn’t be alive today. This event tore a big hole in my skiing life but I learned from it. I can fill that hole with the joy of when I first started to ski. I will never be able to put this completely behind me, but I can continue to ski and love the sport with all my heart.

Honorable Mention: “Emily’s New Blessing” by Reese Hoffman – 5th Grade, St. Francis Xavier

“Cock-a-doodle doo,” the rooster called from the yard. Emily sighed, “He had just interrupted a wonderful dream.” She looked out the window and saw their family's award winning cow, Bethany. Emily got out of bed, grabbed her plaid shirt and blue overalls. She got dressed and headed outside to milk Bethany, but something was wrong. Bethany was mooing like crazy and acting really spooked.

“Mamma, Papa, Suzie get out here! Something’s wrong with Bethany!” Emily yelled.

Mom, Dad, and Emily’s little sister Suzie came running from the house. “I think she’s sick”, said Emily with a worried look on her face.

Emily’s mama in her thick southern accent said, “Beth’s not sick, she's pregnant”.

“Daddy, what is pregnant?” Suzie asked her father.

“It means Bethany’s going to have a baby”, he replied.

“A baby!” Suzie exclaimed happily, she was glad to know she wouldn’t always be the youngest.

“When will the baby come?” Emily asked.

“Well from the looks of it the baby’s coming now!” answered their mother.

Suzie, Mamma, and Papa tried to pet Bethany to calm her, but she wouldn’t let any of them touch her. “If she won’t let us touch her, you're going to have to help deliver the baby, Em '' said dad.

Emily's face turned white and she looked as if she were about to puke. “What, I can’t deliver a baby!” Emily said in shock. “I'm just a kid!” Emily was now breathing heavily and a bunch of thoughts swirled around in her head all at once. Bethany mooed in pain and all the thoughts in Emily’s head disappeared. There was only one thing she needed to think about, and that was Bethany. “I’ll do it,” said Emily in her toughest voice.

Her parents looked so proud. At that moment Emily was proud of herself, too. All her worries were gone and she wasn’t thinking about how or what she was going to do, but she was just thinking about how to get sweet Bethany out of pain. Bethany was now lying on the floor mooing uncontrollably.

“There’s the head!” Mama said.

“Oh boy, this just got real,” replied Emily. It was kind of scary until Emily got the hang of it. The baby calf was out and Bethany gave it its first bath by licking it. To Emily’s surprise, the calf got up and walked wobbly around. Since Emily had delivered the calf her parents let her choose a name. This made Suzie mad because she wanted a baby Suzie Jr.

“It took me a while but I finally know what I will name her,” Emily said proudly, “Cally!” she announced. Emily’s entire day had been leading up to this. The best part about Cally was her calmness. During the whole birth she had never cried once. She was excited to see the new world, and was not scared. Now Cally was calmly sitting in Emily’s lap looking at the world around her. At this moment Emily felt so happy, excited, and proud of herself all at once. This feeling felt so wonderful. Emily and Cally fell asleep on the porch swing, thanking God for their blessings.

1st Place: “The Monster Inside My Head” by Avery Sears – 7th Grade, St. Francis Xavier

The Monster Inside My Head

Emma was asked to give a speech in front of the whole school. She was honored to be recognized for her academic achievements. She had practiced her speech in front of her mirror at least a hundred times. Right as she began walking up to the stage, I picked the lock on the vault she tried to put me in. I leaked every bad memory of public speaking like a sponge that couldn't hold anymore water.

I'm the one who makes her overthink everything. What if I stutter? What if my class laughs at me?

I am the little nobody in her head with a very convincing voice. I come out when I'm not wanted. I want to help Emma by making her cautious, and trying to keep her safe, but sometimes I don't know when to leave. So I never do. I stick by her side even when she tries to push me away.

She is stronger than me yet she lets my quiet voice hold her back. They're going to laugh at us. Why did we even say yes to doing this?

She was once asked where the scariest place in the world is and responded with “my head.” I don't let Emma accept anyone in her life. I think that if she lets them in it will cause her more pain than I have.

I am the one who makes her feel as though she is alone even when she is in a room full of people. If I mess up my speech, who would even consider talking to me?

Everyone has someone living inside their head. Everyone is supposed to have more than one voice living with them. You know, the ones that hype you up or make you cautious. Emma doesn't. All Emma has is me and a brain full of amazing ideas that I don't want her to share for I am worried that she will be rejected or hurt by someone. They really aren't that bad are they? Who am I kidding? They are that bad.

At irregular times I go through all the things she has done in a day and pinpoint the smallest things and make them major until they are eating away at both of our insides. Is my outfit okay? I knew I should have gone with a nice sweater instead of a dress. I'm way too overdressed. I can't do this. There is no way I can do this.

I am the one who ruins everything and holds her back. I am the monster inside her head; I am anxiety.

2nd Place: “The Other Half” by Helena Harris – 6th Grade, Petoskey Middle School

Around 1am my phone rang. It was so late to be on the phone so I didn't even look. I felt my phone buzz as a text message then it went silent. I woke up to around 100 missed calls from my best friend's mother. I called her back right away. I could hear the pain in her voice when she answered. I knew what happened but I couldn't accept it until she said, “she is gone.” I hung up and ran straight to their house. She lived about a block away which wasn't too far. The wind in my face felt like a relief from reality for like 2 minutes. I watched the ambulance carry her out, that scarred me. Seeing her made me so angry that she would do this to me. I ran in the house hugging her mom. I just wanted to go with her, but I was so angry at her. I had so many emotions but the one question running through my head the whole time was why would she leave me here on this cruel earth with no one.

I was 16 at the time. My world was crushed. My parents understood and didn't make me go to school for a while. I layed in bed crying for 2 months straight. Every time I thought about her I would pass out because every time I thought of her it made me sick. I just kept replaying them, carrying her dead body out. She seemed happy before all of this. She was my best friend, the girl that made me laugh when I was crying and laugh even harder when I was laughing. She was like a sister to me. I didn't have any siblings but I had really clingy parents that were always hovering. My mom was a Psychiatrist and always tried to get me to talk to her. I never budged because every time I opened my mouth to talk words didn't come out. I felt as though the world kept moving and I stayed in one place. I always felt my best friend around me watching over me.

I developed serious depression. My room started to stink and you couldn't see the floor anymore. My parents stopped coming into my room so often they just figured I needed time. I thought about giving up like her and going to see her again. But then I would remember how it made me feel about her leaving me and couldn't do that to my mom. I would talk to her mom about once a month until they moved. We really stopped talking at all but we would text each other every year on her birthday. I stopped eating and developed an eating disorder on top of my depression. I started getting even worse. I lost all my friends and would sleep 18 hours a day. The time I was awake I was in my bedroom remembering all of our memories, good and bad.

I still think that maybe if I would have answered my phone and I could have prevented it. Ever since that night I would get a feeling like I was floating outside my body looking down on myself and I hated what I saw.

One night at dinner my parents told me it was time to go back to school. Monday came around. I woke up early and put on sweatpants and a sweatshirt. I could feel everyone around me whispering and judging me. I walked into my third period class with my head down and not wanting to be there. When I

went to sit down I looked up and I swear for a split second I saw my best friend looking at me. I felt my eyes go black and my body fall. The next thing I could remember was seeing my mom crying worriedly. The doctors told my mom that i was suffering from depression and since i only wore baggy clothes no one noticed that i lost almost 38 pounds in a month. I was so underweight that I didn't have any fat nor muscle on my body. When my mom started to talk I heard the same panicked worried voice I had heard on my best friends mom that day. I realized at that moment that I wasn't only hunting myself but also everyone else around me. My best friend wouldn't want me to live like this. But everytime i think about that I also think that she was the one that did this to me in the first place. I needed someone to blame so I blamed her. For all my problems, it was her fault.

I started getting better. School was hard but I was pushing through. I was forced to meet with a therapist twice a week. She helped me a lot. I faced my fear of thinking of my best friend still here and happy. I stopped blaming my best friend and came to terms with it. It wasn't easy and took many years. I still suffer from depression and I have started to eat normal again. Everytime i feel myself about to spiral I run with the wind in my face escaping reality.

Maybe one day I will forget her smile, the way her voice sounds. But for now I’ll keep it close to me because it’s the last piece of her I have left.

3rd Place: “Home Run” by Cole Wortman – 6th Grade, St. Francis Xavier

You don't have to be a sports fan to know that some of the best athletes to walk the Earth came from cruel beginnings. Most didn't even have a home when they were growing up. They had to work extremely hard to get where they are today. That is the case for a boy named Nick Smith Jr. He was the son of the famous baseball player that played for the New York Yankees. Nick Smith Sr. was a tall fit man with broad shoulders and blond hair. Nick Jr. looked just like his father, he had blond hair and was tall for his age. Nick idolized his father. They did everything together. Jr. came to all his dad's games and even got to go on the field for warmups. Nick was a great young player as well. He and his dad had the same playing style and were both shortstops.

When Nick was twelve, his parents were going out of town and couldn’t take Jr. with them because he was in the science fair. He was left with a friend while his parents were away. When he was at school and getting ready for his science fair presentation, he was called down to the office.

The moment he opened the door there were police officers talking to the principal. Nick’s heart sank to the tips of his toes at the sight. They lowered their hats and told Nick the horrific news that his parents had died in an accident. The thing he loved more than life itself had been ripped from him and would never be given back.

He thought that life could never get so low and terrible. His parents had always lived by the words to plan for the worst and hope for the best. They had definitely planned for the worst when they made sure that all of the family riches would go to Nick when he was a legal adult and not to be touched until then. The only family he had left were grandparents that lived in the city too. Nick rarely got to see them because they had been abusive when his mother was younger. They were greedy, and Nick knew that his grandparents were not the nicest people to be around, but he still had to go with them.

They came and got him the next day and treated him like a king for the first 24 hours until they figured out the rules about his inheritance. They immediately treated him the same cruel and ugly way they used to treat his mother. To Nick he had one option and it was to run away from not only his grandparents, but also the grief of his parents’ deaths. He decided to run to the one other place he considered home: Yankee Stadium. He left on a dark quiet night when his grandparents were out doing whatever they could to hassle others for money.

It was fairly easy for him to get in the stadium because he went there all the time with his dad. While he was wandering the long walkways he heard someone coming from the other direction. He had to think fast. That's when he saw a food stand, ducked behind it, and he watched the man walk by. He was barely able to make out the name on the name tag. It said Al. Al was a small and old man that looked quite happy.

Once Al was gone Nick walked down the hall to the locker rooms. He noticed a part of the wall was uneven. He pushed on it and it slowly opened. Inside was an office that seemed forgotten about. He looked around and made sure it was secure then put down his stuff and went to bed. For the next few

weeks he gathered supplies like food, and water. Nick also got really good at avoiding the guards. He only took things he needed to live comfortably.

One night when Nick was going back to his room he was caught by the same security guard that he had seen before, Al. Nick tried to run away but the man was standing in the way to the room. After a little bit of coaxing Nick Al got sthe story of how he got orphaned. They talked for a bit and got to know eeach other's back stories.lThe old man who said his name was Al invited him to come to his home, but Nick didn't completely trust him yet, but he had been lonely and needed someone to talk to so he caved and went with Al. He learned Al had been working at Yankee stadium ever since he graduated from college. Al loved the game of baseball when he was a boy and always wanted to be around a pro field. Nick had begun to trust Al and told him that he was the son of Nick Smith. That was old news to Al because he recognized the color of Nick's hair and how he ran. Nick realized that he wanted to get adopted by Al so one night after a game Nick asked Al. Al said that he would be honored and that is the place he spent the rest of the time before college. Nick also kept up with baseball and became the first draft pick. Al came to everyone of Nick's games until Al passed away. The last game that Al went to Nick hit a home run just for him. After Al passed Nick carried on with his life and refused to grieve on it. He played for a couple more years then retired and went away from everything and just stayed low key. Even though Nick was off grid he would always be remembered as one of the greats. He was able to say that his life went from a strikeout to a home run.

Hanna-Renkes/Jan Smith Literary Award: “You" by Sadie Liddy – 12th Grade, Petoskey High School

The one thought that resembled coherence and juggled stability for my impulsive flight that night was this: that one day, I’d have to explain everything to you. My neglect. My dismissal. What I had done, why I did it, and why that night. And most importantly, how it felt.

I’m shaky, admitting it took me ten years. Mom, it was Christmas Eve. We all arrived at our house for dinner. No Bing Crosby or popcorn strings, just our hushed small talk around the table. It wasn’t surreal, yet I couldn't offer the truth to your parents or "Baby Rue"… who is the first "baby" to ever be in middle school.

“No Grandma, I’m just tired from the flight.”

“I’m good Rue, the eye bags are from studying.”

“You know, I haven’t been sleeping. Classic college.”

Dad tries to make it feel like Christmas, but he can’t capture the spirit like you did. Your straight-stitch stockings are above the fire, but your intoxicating gingerbread scent is missing. You’d waft it through the house, smiling, knowing our mouths were pooling at the edges. I can see you counting down the minutes, knowing like a mother does that Rue and I would come chasing, exploding into the kitchen. Then you’d just wink and say, “After dinner,” while sneaking us the cookie dough you spared.

There is one piece you would melt over; a new ornament Dad made. A mahogany crafted miniature piano, like the one we used to play. A sanded, classy top, four swivelled legs, and perfectly blanketed white keys that glisten under the colored lights. But I don’t touch it; it’s always Rue, Dad, Grandma, or Grandpa that hangs it. Tradition was stabbed with delicate circles of gazes and floating nods between a broken family. In his planned manner, Dad choked, “Henry, would you like to hang it this year? For Mom?”

I had been running for ten years, not in a tangled maze or woods, but on a sidewalk, in a busy city. It looked like I was peacefully jogging, but I was running for the only life I've ever known, the one I needed to keep. Now I was met with this ugly reflection, pervading behind me in a store window. Bursting, like a million flames, I rushed as far as I could from the scene. Fists clenching the staircase, I pulled myself to the attic. Away from our once whole family and the ornament of your favorite instrument. There was unfinished business between us.

I had unveiled it; the white cloth flew, as if in slow motion. Dust flew like dandelions into the static air, as snow whirls in a snow globe. The dead walls inhaled and the room waited in a newfound anticipation… The image, its flames ever growing, the painful resident of my mind, had morphed into a smoke, and I was high on it. It was revealed. Our Grand Piano, standing tall in the desolate state, had the courage after my abandonment. Standing triumphant and proud in my neglect, it was posed with grace and care in my hardened presence. I took it in fearfully, processing my now most hated treasure I would die to defend. My unworthy steps circled its field and my dirty hand swept the surface. Dust blew off as if it became the Sahara, and the capsule was unearthed. The whites gleamed through our smudged fingerprints, like it was a portal back in time.

I hadn’t told you, the first day of our ending as I drove us to the doctor, that I was terrified. That through anxiety ridden Googling, I memorized more than a medical student. That my heart went still when I heard Dad downstairs whisper hello to the phone, that my head collapsed to the floor with my ear squeezed against the planks to hear what would follow, and that I was met only with my gasping for breath, a second before I sensed his complete loss for a response. We were now survivors at sea, no land in sight and no floatation, only constant beating against the waves. I felt that water rush between us during every hug, that sensation of two wet bodies clinging. Desperate for warmth, for life, for survival, and never quite knowing which wave was our last.

That water flooded through me then, and I striked the instrument. Chords reverberated like ribbons unravelling down a wedding aisle, each note like bells. My fingers nestled in their old spots as if the keys were mittens, and their ivory felt like your fingertips as you squeezed my hand from the hospital bed. Without warning or any divine sign leading up to this, the water flooded differently this time: it brought me back to you. The piano had always been the moon that hung over us night after night at sea. Now that I was playing it, with you nearby, it kissed the tide we once waded in and caressed the shore we had dreamed of. I was no longer afraid.

1st Place: “Moons Captivated by the Amber” by Ealleannore VanNortrick – 10th Grade, Concord Academy Petoskey

Moons Captivated by the Amber

I hear the crisp autumn leaves crunch under my paws. As I dart through the trees in the woods, the brisk air ruffles through my fur, and I can tell Winter is just around the bend. If only it wouldn't come so soon. The river rushes by my side, churning and bubbling, cold water spraying on my snout. Reaching the mouth, it calms down more while fish swim and sway through the water like the leaves flutter in the wind. Seeing myself in a rippled, glass-like form is a strange sight. My wavy snout, jagged ears, and amber-colored eyes stare back at me. My long ears twitch when I hear the snapping of a twig behind me. Turning back, I see a strange creature standing on two legs. My mind races as I wonder why it has such strange fur, only covering its head. What is it that wraps around its body that's colored the same as pumpkins? What is the long stick, and why is it silver? I wonder why it seems to be pointing the rod at me. BANG! A loud shot echoes throughout the woods. BANG! Another shot. Something jabs me. Then another shot and another jab. Finally, I fall to the forest floor, leaves crunching under my limp body, but I don't feel pain at all. It's strange, though. When I tell my body to get up, not a single muscle moves. Panic rushes through my brain, and no matter how hard I try, I can't do a thing. Pain begins to form in my side and leg. I still can't move an inch, but the strange creature moves close to me. Its piercing gaze stares into my soul. Why did you want to hurt me? What did you do? But most of all, what happens now? Their eyes are as black as night as they consume my vision. My consciousness fades.

I wake to see bars surrounding me. I'm unsure as to where I am. I no longer see trees, nor do I hear wind or water. Everything seems foreign and new. What happened? Where am I? Those strange creatures surround me, and they all look like the one that hurt me. What do they want with me, though? I try to hide in the corner of my confinement, but it seems I can't escape from it. All I can do is sit and wait for my fate to be decided.

It feels as though it's been ages since I was taken captive. The creatures have me in a place with more people around. There are other wolves within the captivity, but I miss my pack. Azrael has one blue eye while the other is amber flecked with gold. Her fur is silvery-grey in most areas, with white shining through due to age. She and her pup, Achlys, have been here for a long time. Zoriel was the alpha of his pack, but after what he calls "hunters" came, he was taken captive. Just like the rest of us, he got shot with something. There are several others, but I don't know them very well. I'm unsure as to how long I may be here. The others say Baccia was here for the passing of over 100 moons. If only I had a way of telling my pack I'm alive. If only.

It has now been over 60 moons since I arrived here. I spend most days sleeping. Maybe if I can't get out of here, I can spend my days in the world of dreams. Most days, I dream of running through the woods. My fur rustling in the wind, twigs breaking under my paw, and hearing the water rush nearby. I dream of seeing my mor and my far, the ones who raised me from the time I was a pu. Everything I once knew seems so foreign to think about now. A world that I was familiar with no longer exists in my sight. One day, I hope to see them again. Fenrisúlfr will soon take my soul. When that happens, I know I will be reunited.

2nd Place: “Moonlight Bridge” by Thalia Svatora – 9th Grade, Harbor Springs High School

Basil jumped out of the bushes, Ashen walked out a few seconds after him. Basil’s gray fur has a few burs in it that Ashen picked out and threw to the side.

“What did the butcher give you today?” Basil asked.

“Not sure,” Ashen responded, “salmon maybe?” They crossed the creaky old wooden bridge to the other side of the river. Just as they reached the other side, another cat ran to them.

“There you guys are! There’s a fight, you gotta come see!” They looked at each other, then ran after the cat who led them to the scene.

A scrawny gray alley cat was scratching and clawing at a brown house cat, and the brown cat was hurt bad. A ring of house cats and stray cats surrounded them, cheering on their own member.

The leader of the house cats ran into the fight and pushed the gray cat off the brown cat. He was a big black and orange cat who easily held the gray cat on the ground.

“What are you doing to him!” he screamed at the gray cat. The large cat let up on the gray cat who scampered away. Commander Orien runs up to the black and orange cat, the leader of the strays, he has a large frame and gray and black striped fur with bent and snapped whiskers.

“Don’t yell at her,” he scolds him.

“Maybe if you kept your mange rats away from them I wouldn’t,” He spat in his face. Suddenly, the cat smirks to himself and says, “Orien, come here, is it a fight you want?” He said, suddenly cool. “Bring them all tomorrow, fight us one last time.”

Everyone stares into each other as rain slams them. Basil stands ready right next to Ashen. Both are dwarfed by other cats as they’re both barely 8 months old. A large tiger cat is staring right at Ashen. Some domestic cat charges and the fight breaks out. Ashen instantly loses Basil in the chaos and the tiger runs to him.

He slams into Ashen who instantly falls back. The tiger approaches and Ashen bites his leg. He screams in anguish as Ashen scurries away. The tiger catches up and knocks him onto his side and holds him down. He doesn’t even speak as he leans down to Ashen’s throat and opens his mouth to bite. Ashen closes his eyes, only to feel the tiger's weight come off of him. Basil had come in and attacked the tiger. He brutally clawed at the tiger as Ashen stood low and watched him. Basil was too small to do much to him.

The tiger had gotten Basil to the ground as easily he did with Ashen. Ashen was completely frozen and watched his friend struggle under the cat. Basil writhed under the large cat, screaming for Ashen to help, the tiger leaned over Basil’s neck. All Ashen could do was watch as he bit down, and Basil’s tail fell limp.

Commander Orion was suddenly at his side, “Come on!” he yelled, “we’ve basically lost, weren’t you watching!” Commander Orien drags him up. Them and the other cats run away to a small clearing under some pine trees. Commander Orien turns to Ashen

“You let Basil die!” he screamed at him.

“I swear Commander I didn’t mean to-” Ashen said.

“He died because of you!” That hung in the air. Ashen bowed his head to the floor. All the others stared at him, shaking their heads and looking at each other. Whispering, He let him die? Basil is who died? Ashen basically killed him, left him to die! How could he?

Commander Orion turned around and left, the others following him, some staring at Ashen and saying harsh words to each other. He sat and waited for Commander to leave to cry.

For a month, Ashen was the center of misery. Everyone blamed him, random cats yelled at him for it. Some blocked him out of places to sleep, some ignored him and some even attacked him.

Ashen would wander the streets and ask anyone for a place to stay as it rained more and more throughout the month. Every time they turned him away. They would just shut the door, or yell or scowl and turn away. Some even attacked, but Ashen always got away.

“Please, just for a night?” he once asked a very old cat under a porch, “It’s raining and I’m so tired.”

“You?” the orange cat said, “You’re the one who let Basil die that night, right? You let your true friend die? You know that used to bring me food sometimes when I felt too tired to go out and he wasn’t with, you,” he hesitated when he said you, “You let someone like that die?” Ashen stood down and stepped away.

He walked far, to a place the other strays often aren’t, and it slowly stopped raining as he went. He finally came across the old small wooden bridge he and Basil walked across to get to town. The moon bathed his black fur in its dim light. He looked up to the moon, then down to its reflection in the water. Without thinking twice, he walked in, and the water enclosed him in seconds. The cold crushed him and he let it. He heard a small sound that sounded like a shout before passing out.

Ashen woke to many cats surrounding him, all of which he knew.

“Y’know if you were feeling that bad, you could’ve told us?” a gentle-looking tabby said, “We could’ve helped you if you were smart enough to ask!” Someone helped him up. He looked around at all the cats who harassed him for weeks, all suddenly caring and concerned. “Let’s go back,” she said. Ashen took one last look at the river and moon as he walked back with them.

3rd Place: “One Big Jump” by Liam Withey – 11th Grade, Petoskey High School

The air was cool, the trees bent before the opposing wind as the sun burned through the cracks between their leaves. I gazed upon the chasm and the bank which awaited my feet. I contemplated the power required to make the jump and attempted to take control of the adrenaline rushing through my veins. Finally, all that remained was to make the leap. With a deep breath and a sharp exhale, I took my mark and leapt.

I was five years old, and my family had just moved from Michigan to North Carolina as my father was offered a position at Nascar Technical Institute. Eventually, we found ourselves renting out a beautiful house on a fifty acre farm from people who soon became family to us. They showed us around and introduced us to the donkeys and chickens with which my sister and I spent most of our days. Aside from feeding and petting the animals, one of our favorite pastimes was exploring the property. In our front yard, all that could be seen was a plain of green grass and a large magnolia tree. To the left side of the house, one could see an extensive chain of pine trees covering the perimeter of our back yard.

Finally, to the back of the house, there was a labyrinth of reaching wood trails that, if followed, led miles in any direction. The main attraction of these trails, which was discovered by my older brother, was a creek with a vast chasm stretching across the expanse. In terms of dimensions, this creek was a good twelve feet wide and eight feet deep with a bank on the bottom left end which was slowly dissipating as a result of the rushing water brought on by a waterfall that flowed throughout my future foe. Upon discovery, I gazed at its beauty and then looked to my brother and exclaimed, “we should name it!” Earlier we had uncovered a smaller yet deeper chasm aptly named, “The Little Wonga.” Confidently my brother proclaimed that we shall name this one, “The Big Wonga.” this being the larger of the two. Naturally, the larger variant had to follow suit.

I am the youngest of us four. We are all two years apart. There is my sister Lauren, my brother Daniel, and the oldest of us is my sister Anna. Eventually, my brother proposed a test of bravery saying, “You will have to jump from the top bank down to the little sand bar on the bottom.” Effortlessly, and with help from his long legs, he made the jump.

“It’s no big deal Liam, come on down here!” he called up from the bottom. One strong attribute that I came to know my brother by was his bravery. He never refused a challenge and occasionally made his own, The Big Wonga being one of them. As the younger brother, I had an irrational desire to prove my worth to him. And so, with little hesitation, I gathered all the bravery I could muster and made my way to the “runway.” Lauren had been looking for us and had just shown up as I was about to make the bound.

With a rather concerned tone she exclaimed, “What are you doing?” I had been building myself up mentally as this was quite the jump for a five year old, so I didn’t respond and started running. I planted my feet on the edge temporarily so as to spring off. With a shout from my sister and a grin upon my brother’s face, I launched off the side. It felt like time had slowed down as I thought to myself, “Am I really doing this?” I felt the rush of adrenaline and the wind blowing against the sweat upon my face as I descended, until finally, my feet planted firmly on the bank. I was shocked. My five year old legs granted me the strength to overcome the divide not only in the land, but in my mind as well, this mental divide being the periphery of what I previously thought possible for myself.

I dedicate this memory to the overcoming of previous fears and to the gaining of newfound bravery. I found this memory significant as it was, quite literally, the greatest bound in terms of bravery I made at my young age.