Creativity Corner

Calling all creative writers! This is a column run by Liv Akers and Mariah Lumsden to inspire readers to write. The column includes writing prompts, submissions from readers, and pieces by the coordinators.

Calling all creative writers!

Welcome to The Scroll's newest column, a space for readers to write in The Scroll without necessarily being journalists! We hope you guys look forward to participating!

How to participate:

Below are a set of prompts for different styles of writing beyond journalism. The idea is that you can create some kind of creative writing piece inspired by one of the prompts, but it doesn't have to be! You can submit any piece of writing you'd like to share! All submissions should be school-appropriate.

Send in your submissions to gphsthescroll@gmail.com to be featured in the column! You are more than welcome to send in anonymously or put your name on your piece. Please just specify when emailing us. Thanks!

Prompts:

Here are some prompts to inspire your writing this month! Let us know how it goes, if you decide to try one. :)

Write an essay about a topic you're interested in or passionate about.
Write a story using vocabulary words from your English class or SAT words.
Write an argumentative piece about something in our school or community that you think should be different.
Write a poem about your experience with the year 2020.
Write a story or poem inspired by a picture or photograph that you saw online recently (include the picture in your submission!).

A walk in the woods - Liv Akers

I wrote a story using SAT vocab for my English class a few weeks ago. Here's the result!

When May was a little girl, she lived on a big piece of land, miles from the nearest town, and a ten-minute walk from her next door neighbor. Around the edges of the property was a forest that stretched farther than she knew; even when she sat on the roof of their small cottage with her dad to stargaze, she couldn’t see the end of the greenwood. She imagined there must be creatures of every shape and form hidden amongst the foliage, maybe even something magical, and a part of her, deep inside, had always wanted to run off and be a part of that world.

It wasn’t until she was ten years old that she finally decided to do it. On a cool spring day, she packed a bag of snacks, spare clothes, and her favorite book, The Secret Garden, and made the trek to the edge of the forest. It was darker inside, with the trees blocking out the light from the sun, but she took a deep breath and stepped into the shady embrace of the trees. She kept her chin held high and her step light as she made her way through the vegetation, on a lookout for anything that resembled adventure. May didn’t know for how long or how far she walked, because things like distance and time felt different, off, somehow. The whole forest seemed to be oozing magic. It was in the air around her, flowing through the ground, pulsing within the trees. She stopped to place her hand on the bark of an oak, and her fingers tingled with a sensation she couldn’t place.

The walk didn’t feel long, but her legs began to ache not long after that. Regardless, she was indefatigable, and pressed on. After some more time, May spotted something in the distance: a cottage, not unlike the one she lived in herself. Through the trees, she could see a garden of wildflowers surrounding the house, their vibrant colors standing out against the greens and browns of the woods. As she approached, the mysterious sense of something being off strengthened, and she felt reality slipping away. She stopped at the base of the porch, contemplating it with a pensive expression painted across her face. The building was by no means stalwart, seeming to be on the verge of collapse, but something told her it had been here for centuries, and would stand the test of time. She figured it must be a cache for something magical, something hidden away from human eyes; she was probably the first person to find it in years.

As she stood there, considering the safety of the cottage, the door burst open, and a stout woman was posed in the doorway, dressed in a cloak. She had wiry gray hair that was flowing around her head wildly. “You there!” she yelled, her voice shrill and hoarse. “How did you find this place?”

At first, May was too shocked by the sheer effrontery of the woman to respond. When she managed to speak, it was a stutter. “I just—I’m sorry?”

“How did you get through the barrier spells?” She huffed. “Rosy, you have to reinforce your barriers!” she called into the house then returned her attention to May, still standing wide-eyed before the house. “Well, come in, then. You must be tired from that walk.”

May’s feet moved before she could think to say no, and followed the woman into the house. She was seated at a low wooden table in what appeared to be a kitchen, and the woman started rustling through the cabinets. Another one, tall and slim with her hair cropped short and dressed in a colorful sundress, entered the room.

“Now, Isabel, I’ve told you I don’t like when you call me th—Ah! Who are you?”

“A human,” the first woman, Isabel, replied. The second woman seemed apprehensive at her presence, but Isabel didn't seem to notice. “I’m making her my special tea, she won’t remember a thing.”

“Well, then,” she sat down across from May, “I’m Rosalind. What’s your name?”

“I’m May,” she replied quietly.

“May, you’re lucky you’re not an adult.” Rosalind made a face of disgust, as though the very thought were abhorrent. “I’d have had you removed from this place immediately, but since you’re a child, I guess you can stay.”

“Why, what’s wrong with adults?”

“Blegh, the hubris of those creatures! It’s caustic to my energy. Their every action is blithe, their heads must be vacuous, and you simply can’t placate them. They’re abysmal, really.”

“Wait, so is that why you’re all the way out here?” May asked.

Isabel placed a dainty teacup on the table before her. “Well, I really don’t mind humans that much, but Rosy here has the most unbearable aversion to them, and we’ve got our own sort of autonomy out here, so I don't mind it all that much.” She took a seat next to her and propped her head in her hand. “Now drink up, deary. You don’t want it getting cold.”

May held the warm cup in her hands and lifted it to her lips. She took a sip, and couldn’t place what the flavor was, so she closed her eyes to try to focus on it and think. She opened her eyes only a few moments later, but rather than the women’s cottage, she was looking at her bedroom, seated on the comforter of her bed.

For weeks afterward, she tried to look back and figure out what happened that day, but after a little while, the memory faded away. A few years later, she found a strange dainty teacup in her cabinet that she didn’t remember buying, but she would never remember the afternoon she spent in the witches’ hut.

thanks for reading!

This was just an example to hopefully generate some inspiration for you guys. This column relies on reader participation, so we really hope you all decide to give it a try. We look forward to reading your submissions!

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