Calling all creative writers! This is a column run by Liv Akers to inspire readers to write. The column includes writing prompts, pieces by the coordinators, and occasional submissions from readers.
This month: Short stories from Zakai, Casey Leigh, and Nathaniel Lee.
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 would like to share! All submissions should be school-appropriate. You can also suggest prompts to be featured in the next issue.
Here are some prompts to inspire your writing this month! If you try one, let us know how it goes. :)
1. What does a perfect world look like to you? Describe it to us!
2. What is the kindest thing you've ever done for someone, or that someone has ever done for you? Alternatively, what is your definition of kindness?
3. Do you believe in an afterlife? If so, what does it look like to you? If not, why not?
4. Is there such thing as true love? What does it look / feel like to you?
5. What weird, niche thing have you been feeling particularly passionate about recently? Rant about to us; we'd love to hear it!
If you have any prompt ideas in mind that you haven't seen on here yet or would like to see someone else respond to, drop them in the Google Form below and they'll be listed in the next issue!
“Where is the target?” questioned the shadowy figure, crouching atop the ledge of an office building.
A quick buzz replied, before a voice came on to the small device inside their ear, “Through that window behind you. He’s just about to walk into the office.”
After hearing the location, they spun sharply to catch a glimpse of the victim. The man was hurriedly flipping through some documents. In fact, these were highly classified documents that were not meant to be seen by people such as him.
The voice came in again, sounding exasperated. “Please tell me you remembered the tool this time, Twelve.”
Despite their normal forgetfulness, the agent actually managed to bring the device along. They pulled out a small metal device that could easily be mistaken for a thick mechanical pencil. It was equipped with a bright blue light at the tip to get the job done.
“I got it,” Twelve whispered back to the earbud with a triumphant grin. This happy moment was destroyed when they almost went for a free fall after letting go of the ledge to pump the air with their fist.
“Hope no one saw that,” they said to themself as they pulled themself back up onto the edge, forgetting the mic in their ear.
“I sure wish I didn’t, either,” the voice mocked. “Just do your job before you break something important.”
The man was still searching for something, giving Twelve time to open the window in front of them. They quietly crept up behind the man with the device in hand. The intruder turned to see nothing but the blue light, now violently blinking. With a final flash of the device, Twelve quickly hid it into their hoodie pockets before the man regained control of his vision.
“What on earth am I doing here?” the man giggled to himself before addressing the other person in the room. “Goodness, it's just one of those days, am I right?”
“I think you mentioned you were wanting a coffee?” Twelve motioned to the coffee maker in the corner of the room. “You seem to need it today, Steve.”
The man, now under the new name of Steve, looked over to the machine as if finally finding the conclusion to a difficult puzzle.
“Ah, yes, of course! Thank you…” Steve left an open space to add the name but couldn’t seem to remember it.
Twelve cut the silence short to make their exit, “Of course Sir. Hope you enjoy the drink.” After the remark, they walked calmly down the flight of stairs inside the building, finally responding to the voice in their ear. “Are you proud? I didn’t break anything this time.”
“Well, there’s still a long day ahead of us for you to mess up.”
TO BE CONTINUED…
Qith sliced the car in half with a quick swing of the sword. The sword disappeared and Yira pulled a short rod out of her jacket and pointed it at the robot. A stream of white foam shot at the robot, knocking it over. Yira buried it under a mound of the quickly solidifying foam.
“I can’t believe that The Blades got a robot that powerful. It must be made out of Xandarian steel, or something like that,” Yira said.
“That’s next to impossible,” Qith replied. “The Invisible Blades are a gang. More of a clan than a gang, really. They don’t have enough money to even look at Xandarian steel. They’re just a thorn in our side, doing what they can to make our lives miserable. If this is what they sent, then they must have help from someone.”
“Or they’re under new management,” Yira said. “They’ve been led by rich people before. People who don’t like to get their hands dirty, so they have someone else do it for them.” A cracking sound made them both look at the mound of foam. The robot burst out of the foam, looking as pristine as ever.
“If that’s not Xandarian steel, then I’ll eat my shirt,” Qith said.
“Me too,” Yira said.
Qith looked at her. “You’ll eat my shirt too?”
Yira groaned. “I mean that I’ll eat my shirt, not yours. That’s gross.” The robot charged at them, and they prepared for battle. Yira pulled the rod back out, and Qith held up his hands. As Yira shot more foam at the robot, Qith grabbed hold of the robot’s head and pulled. The force of the foam knocked the robot away, taking Qith with it. The head detached, but some foam covered the bottom half of Qith, trapping him against the ground with the sparking head near him. He lay on the ground as Yira ran over.
“Oh my gosh!” she said. “Are you dead, Qith?”
He sat up quickly and she jumped. “I’m fine, just a little scraped up. Could you help me out?” Yira pulled a small gun out of her jacket. She pointed it at his legs and pulled the trigger. A pink mist sprayed his legs and the foam melted. As Yira pushed some buttons on her communicator, Qith walked over to the remains of the robot. It was mostly covered with foam, but he could see a gap where the head was. Qith reached his hand in and pulled out a crystal sphere that pulsed green.
“What on earth?” he said. Yira walked over and Qith shoved the sphere in his jacket.
“Boss said to bring the shell of the robot and anything else we think is important,” Yira said. She melted the foam on the robot and they used tools to take the metal on the outside.
“It is Xandarian steel,” Yira said as she looked at a piece in awe, “If I had just one small piece of this, I could make enough money to survive for the rest of my life.”
Qith took the piece out of her hands and put it in a leather bag. “Stop thinking like a smuggler.”
Yira looked at him angrily. “Just because I was a smuggler when we met doesn’t mean that I’m still secretly a smuggler. Leave me alone.” She kept taking pieces off.
“Sorry,” Qith said. They finished taking off the Xandarian steel shell and carried the remaining pieces over to a dumpster.
“I think this mission went well,” Qith said. Yira looked over at the burning factory.
Two clicks sounded behind them. “Don’t make a sound. Hands in the air.” Qith and Yira did as told. Something hit them on the head and they dropped to the ground, unconscious.
“Jason!” a woman called. “Come down here right now!” Sixteen-year-old Jason Walker stood up.
“Coming, Mom!” he called. He crept along the edge of the roof. Jason pulled his phone out of his pocket and tossed it off the roof into the grass, then jumped off the roof into the pool. He swam to the edge and climbed out, dripping water on the concrete surrounding the pool.
“Dude, seriously?” a voice said. Jason turned to see his twelve-year-old brother, Jayden. Jayden threw a towel at him.
“What?” Jason asked innocently.
“You do that every time. Why are you up on the roof so much, anyway?”
“It gives me privacy,” Jason replied. “I can’t get much of that with you around, Jay.”
“What do you need privacy for? You have your own room!”
“Shouldn’t you be at school?” Jason said to distract his brother.
“It’s Saturday, doofus.” Jayden was standing his ground. “There has to be a better reason than that.”
Jason almost answered, but then he stopped. “I want to. Deal with it.” He reached out and grabbed Jayden, then heaved his brother into the pool. Jayden resisted at first. He thought he could win, because he did sports: football, swimming, wrestling, stuff like that. But Jason quickly had the upper hand. Jayden was an athlete, but so was Jason; plus, Jason was almost a full head taller.
“Jason!” their mom called again. “Your meeting is in ten minutes. Come in and shower.” Jason dried his hair off and went inside.
“Stop,” his mom said. “Go back outside and dry off properly. You’re dripping wet.” Jason sighed and went back outside. Jayden was getting out of the pool.
“Jayden!” their mom called from inside. “You can stay home while I take Jason.” Jayden pulled off his shirt and did a backflip into the pool. Jason shook his head and dried himself off better, then went back inside. He went up the stairs and into the bathroom. As Jason showered, he thought about the past few months. About four months ago, when he had been in a car accident, his best friend Marty had died. Jason felt that it was his fault. They had been out in the mountains and the car slid off the edge. They rolled about twenty feet downhill and came to a stop halfway down. There was a cliff at the bottom of the hill. Marty called 911 and they tried to get out. Jason managed to smash a window and escape. The motion of him getting out might have caused it, but the car started rolling again, and went off the edge of the cliff. Jason tried going to the edge, but he collapsed to the ground unconscious. He woke up a couple days later in the hospital. They told him later that Marty hadn’t made it, and he felt like part of him had gone over the cliff, too. Then, two weeks ago, Jason’s mom had told him that he was acting strange, so she signed him up for counseling. Jason had hated that.
“I’m fine!” he’d told her repeatedly. “I don’t need someone trying to figure out what’s wrong with me when nothing is!” But it still happened. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, Jason went to meet with a man named Joshua Lee. Jason had begrudgingly gone into the room, and found a man who looked about twenty-four. He was sitting on a stool and writing on a piece of paper.
“Hello, you must be Jason,” the man had said. “I’m Joshua.” After that moment, Jason felt much more at ease. He talked to Joshua like a friend, not some adult who couldn’t understand.
Jason’s reminiscing was interrupted by Jayden telling him that he had to go. Jason got out, dried off, and hurried into his room. After he was changed, he went out to the car.
“Have fun at your meeting,” Jayden said mockingly. Their parents hadn’t told Jayden what the meetings actually were, so he tried constantly to find out. A few minutes later, Jason walked into Joshua’s room.
“And… two minutes, fifteen seconds late,” Joshua said, “Just like last time.”
“Sorry,” Jason said.
“It’s fine,” Joshua said. They talked about school, friends, and family. Then, at the end, Joshua said something that surprised Jason.
“Have you ever thought about looking through photos?” Joshua said, “I’ve learned that looking at old family photos can help with things like this. Don’t ask why, it just does.”
“I’ll try that,” Jason said.
“Still sitting on the roof?” Joshua asked.
“Yeah. It helps me think.”
“I remember going up on my roof when I was your age. I still do. It gives us a little bit of peace that we can’t get anywhere else.”
“Yeah,” Jason looked at his watch. “I should get going.” Jason went back out to his mom and went home. Immediately, he went to the attic. After a few minutes of looking, he found a box labeled Family Photos. Jason climbed up on the roof with the box and opened it. The first photo showed a bunch of kids sitting in the grass. The next one was three boys in a pool. The third photo showed a girl standing in the grass holding a flower. The picture would’ve been perfect, except there was someone standing in the background. Jason looked at the other two photos and saw someone in the background of those as well. Looking closer, he saw they were the same person. He took a picture of one with his phone and zoomed in. It was a little hard to see, but the features were unmistakable. The person in the hundred-year-old photos was Joshua.
