"the lottery" creative assignment  

By ellie barnett 

The following creative assignment is a news report based on the short story "The Lottery", written by Shirley Jackson. 

HATCHETFIELD REPORTER

$0.99                   Daily Newspaper

Lottery Winner Hits “Rock-Bottom”!

Tuesday, June 20, 1992

The town breathes another sigh of relief as the annual lottery draws to a close. Our town’s sacred tradition has served to moderate the population for generations, randomly selecting a member of the community to honorably forfeit their life in service to the rest of us. This year proved as tense as ever, each one of us eying our neighbors in the cruel hope that they would be selected in our place. The position of this year’s lottery winner befell Mrs. Hutchinson, wife to Bill Hutchinson and mother of Bill Jr, Nancy, and Dave. Here we recorded an exclusive interview with our very own Bill Hutchinson with his thoughts 

on the matter. 

“Well…of course I’m sad,” Bill said. “She was my wife, the love of my life- a kind mother with a talent for cooking and cleaning. But, y’know- tradition’s tradition, and it’s all for the good of the town. Besides, her protests started to get a bit unseemly…can you imagine, stopping the lottery? The very suggestion could prove enough to deem our whole family ostracized. Our population would explode and we’d start starving in the streets. It’s only fair. Plus, I can keep providing for the kids. May have to hire someone for the cleaning, though."

Indeed! Any fine lady looking for an excuse to get out of the house can call 1-234-567-8 and talk to Bill Hutchinson. But what really happened on the day of the lottery? Was Mrs. Hutchinson really against our town tradition, or just trying to save her own skin?

The morning of the lottery dawned bright and clear, the cool breeze and sunny skies doing little to ease the nervous anticipation of the town. As the time drew near, families began to gather at the town center. Brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers, uncles and cousins stood watching and wondering who among them wouldn’t see the next sunrise. Family bonds only last so long once bloodshed is involved…

“Well, at least the weather proved fair,” local townsperson Mrs. Delacroix said in an interview this morning. “The kids gathered stones, everyone kept trying to chat, lighten the mood…I noticed Tessie  missing, sure, but I didn’t think much of it. She was probably just finishing up the cleaning. It was only when Mr. Summers started his speeches that I began to worry for her- she showed up in a hurry, though, so everything turned out alright. Everything turned out alright, heh. Little did I know…”

Showing up late to our sacred tradition may have been the nail in the coffin for poor Tessie, as her family ended up with the cursed black dot. Now, newcomers to this town may not know how our lottery works, so let me explain. The head of each household randomly draws a slip of paper from our hallowed black box. The family that draws the black dot must then hold another raffle to see which among them shall meet their end, keeping tabs on our population so our town can remain stable. It just so happens on this fateful day that the lottery chose the Hutchinson household. The classic divide spread through the chosen family, parents turning on children. The whole town agreed on one thing, though; hoping that little Davy Hutchinson wouldn’t end up our sacrificial little lamb.

“Gosh, that poor little thing!” Mrs. Graves exclaimed. “He had no idea what was happening, the little tot. I remember what happened with young Ted a few years back, ohhh…we were all happy as sunshine when Dave’s paper was blank.”

Little Davy wasn’t the end of the townsfolks' troubles. Next up in the drawing: Nancy and Bill Jr., both bright, hardworking individuals that would help continue the prosperity of the town.

When asked for her thoughts, Lucy Greensmith said, “Nancy’s my best friend, has been ever since the second grade. I certainly don’t want any of her family to die, but I’d honestly rather have her over them.”

Lucy need not worry, though; Nancy and her brother Bill Jr. both escaped the harrowing wrath of fate. All eyes watched Bill and Tessie Hutchinson as they stood alone. At his wife’s refusal to open her slip, Bill revealed his blank paper. Tessie’s fate was sealed.

“The moment they saw that lady’s slip of paper, the whole town changed,” an onlooker said. “Their eyes darkened, they grew fierce. Everyone from the hobbling old man to the wide-eyed child grabbed stones and started throwing.”

Of course, Mrs. Hutchinson began protesting, calling the lottery unfair. Every year, the winner’s heart has a sudden change, miraculously realizing the injustice of our tradition only when their head is on the chopping block. This is only natural for those picked, desperately scrambling for some kind of escape. None ever comes.

May the corn grow well this year!

                   - Niko Winterwood, Journalist

Gettysburg address creative assignment  

By meadow ramirez 

The following creative assignment was a letter written by a family member whose brother died at the Battle of Gettysburg. The family member also admirably recalled Lincoln's "Gettysburg Address."

104 7th Avenue

Philadelphia, PA

11/21/1863

John Jacobs

Editor, The Gettysburg Address 

123 Road Street

Gettysburg, PA

Dear Mr. Jacobs,

My name is Elaine Smith, and my brother, Christian Smith, was laid to rest in the ground of Gettysburg about five months hence, after giving his life for this country. I recently traveled down from my home in Philadelphia to see the dedication of his gravesite, and so I happened to be there when the president gave his speech. I write this letter in hopes of convincing you of what I already know: Lincoln’s address in Gettysburg was one of the greatest ever given in the history of this country, and we should all heed his words and keep fighting for our future. I won’t claim to be among the most educated or knowledgeable of citizens, but I know a thing or two about writing, and President Lincoln certainly has a way with words. In less than five minutes, Lincoln managed to convey the ideas that my brother, and thousands of other men in the union army, died for. It is my solemn belief, and, according to his speech, the belief of our president that this war is about the very foundations of our country-- life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Some folks in the Southern states have decided that they don’t believe in those ideals, have insisted on keeping up the barbaric practice of fettering innocent men, women, and children to force them to work, so now we fight to prove to ourselves and the world that our founding fathers were correct, that this nation can hold all men equal and hold itself together. 

My brother joined the army because had faith in our forefathers’ vision, and he was willing to die so that it may someday be fully realized. He valued kindness, sympathy, and understanding, and dedicated his life to ending slavery after befriending a former slave in his youth and learning of his struggles. He taught me that this country cannot claim to be a land of liberty so long as slavery continues to deprive people of their basic freedoms, and I hope you will agree with my desire to stop the states attempting to usurp the government that has finally come around to my brother’s way of thinking. He fought for a dream of equality in these United States and to keep them united as one strong nation. I ask you to keep supporting that dream. I ask you to keep printing stories that remind the people why we fight, to help forward the idea that this country will someday be a united nation once again.

Sincerely,

E. Smith

TV episode treatment - "The mysterious and the supernatural 

By Arjun CHauhan, Simon schott, carter chapman, and holly velazquez 

The following TV episode treatment is based on the hit TV show The Twilight Zone. It was written primarily by Arjun Chauhan and Simon Schott, with help from Carter Chapman and Holly Velazquez.

 TV Episode Treatment

“The Mysterious and the Supernatural”

Title of TV Show: The Voices

Title of Episode:Samantha

Logline:A podcast host receives eerie calls from a voice predicting deaths, forcing her to uncover the truth before she becomes the next victim.

Main Characters/Brief Description:

1. Samantha Cole, A podcast host and first hears the voice

2. Jamal Terry Samantha's College roommate that always found Samantha odd. Last person she spoke to before her death

3. The Voice, tells Samantha that people are going to die

Secondary Characters/Brief Description:

1.Aaron Garcia, A friend of Jamal and the first person Samantha sees dead.

2.John James, A well known businessman on Samantha's podcast shortly after Aarons ¨Accident¨

3.Lucy Kim, Owner of a sushi restaurant, whose death was witnessed firsthand by Samantha.

Plot Synopsis: (No more than 200 words)

In a quiet suburb near Akron, Samantha Cole, a popular podcast host, finds her life turned upside down when she hears a chilling voice during a live recording. The voice names three familiar people and predicts the time and location of their deaths. Panicked, Samantha races to stop the tragedies, but arrives too late. First, she finds her friend Aaron dead in his condo. Then, she discovers John James, a prominent businessman, dead on his bed in his home. Desperate, she heads to Lucy’s Sushi, only to witness its owner, Lucy Kim, fatally impaled by a falling pipe. Stricken with guilt and failure, Samantha retreats to her dorm, where she gives a cryptic goodbye to her roommate, Jamal. As she steps out into the rain, her fate remains uncertain, leaving Jamal—and viewers—haunted by what might come next…

Brief snippet of character dialogue: (Label with characters and stage directions if necessary-- No more than 200 words)

Samantha frantically drives to Aaron’s condo, the voice echoing in her mind. Her phone is on speaker as she tries to call Aaron, but it goes straight to voicemail.

Voice: Aaron Garcia. 1942 Maple Avenue. 10:13 PM.

Samantha: "Come on, Aaron. Pick up, pick up… Damn it! September 6th… the deal. What did you mean by that?"

She slams on the brakes and sprints toward Aaron’s front door. It’s slightly ajar. Her heart pounds as she pushes it open and steps inside.

Samantha: "Aaron! Are you here? Aaron, it’s Sam!"

She walks into the living room, scanning for signs of life. Papers are scattered on the floor. A glass of wine sits untouched on the table. She moves toward the bathroom, noticing water seeping under the door.

Samantha: "No, no, no…"

She pushes the door open and freezes in horror. Aaron is slumped in the bathtub, lifeless, water overflowing onto the floor.

Samantha: "Aaron! Oh my God!"

Her hands tremble as she pulls out her phone and dials 911, but before she can hit call, the voice returns.

Voice: John James. 33 Lakers Street. 12:45 AM.

Samantha: "Stop it! Just stop! Why are you doing this?!"

She slams her phone down, grabs her keys, and storms out of the condo, tears streaming down her face.

"The treasure of Lemon Brown" Creative Assignment

By Aubrey martin 

The following is a fan fiction piece surrounding the classic short story "The Treasure of Lemon Brown," by Walter Dean Myers.

“Greg! Where were you? You've been gone all night! You were supposed to be doing your math homework. I was so worried,” said Greg's father after he opened the door. Greg tried to give his explanation quickly, before his father got mad. 

“See, dad, I just needed a break. I took a little break,” Greg said in an impatient tone. He didn’t feel like having to deal with his father again.

“A little break? For the whole night?,” Greg’s dad quickly shot back. Uh oh, Greg thought.  His dad was as mad as Uncle Kevin when the Eagles lost the Super Bowl last year. I still don't know why Uncle Kevin likes that team, Greg thought to himself. Eventually, he calmed his dad down and they went inside. Finally, I thought we were going to be out there all night, was what Greg was really thinking. They went to the small gray couch, and Greg actually explained himself. 

“Listen father, I really struggle with math. No matter how hard I try, I’m still not good at it. But basketball, I love basketball. I know you think that it takes away from my studying time, but that's not true. It actually helps me. When I can’t play basketball or have any time to do things that I enjoy, it makes me hate math more. I need just a little bit of time to myself, to get my energy out. When all I’m being forced to think about is math, it makes math so much harder. Please let me play for the Scorpion's dad. I promise, I will work even harder…” Greg tried to explain his feeling as best as he could. 

“I will sign you up today. I know you work hard and it was unfair of me to not realize this earlier. Besides, maybe it will teach you some time management skills. The homework needs to be done before basketball practice, and we can set some other rules later.,” said Greg’s father with a sigh.  Greg thanked his father, in disbelief. He was absolutely shocked at the words that had just come out of his father’s mouth. Greg began to get up before his father asked where he was. 

“Greg, where were you?,” his father says slowly. 

“At Sweet Lemon Brown’s house” Greg says in an accent. 

“Haha, very funny Greg. Now where were you?,” Greg’s father says.

 “I was actually at Sweet Lemon Brown’s house, but that's a story for tomorrow.,” Greg said.

“Alright, son. I trust you, now go get some sleep.,” Greg’s father says politely. 

“Wait, one last thing dad. Maybe, we could spend some more time together?,” Greg asks hesitantly. 

“Of course, Greg. I would love that. Goodnight.,” said Greg's dad. Greg walked up the stairs in utter disbelief and pure joy, and thought about the fun days of Scorpion basketball ahead.

"The treasure of Lemon Brown" Creative Assignment

By Ellory meyers

The following is a fan fiction piece surrounding the classic short story "The Treasure of Lemon Brown," by Walter Dean Myers.

Greg was standing on the doorstep of his house, grinning. He thought he knew a way he could convince his dad to let him play. Lemon Brown had inspired him. Lemon made him realize that all his dad wanted is what’s best for him, but sometimes he might not truly know what that is. 

Greg pushed the key through the hole and twisted open his big brown door. His dad was sitting on the couch.

“There you are! I was starting to get worried. Where were you off to? You know you have to finish your homework.” His dad spoke, changing emotions with each sentence. 

“Yeah, hi dad. Sorry, I took a walk.” Greg said.

“In the rain? What kind of walk is that?” Greg’s dad merely smiled as he said it. Showing that he didn't require an answer.

Greg approached his dad and sat next to him on the couch. “Can we talk about basketball, dad?”

His dad made a stern face but said “Sure” anyways.

“I care about my grades, dad. I don’t want to fail my classes. I’m trying my best, and I’ll continue trying my best even if you don’t let me play, and if you do. Basketball is what I want to do. If I want to be happy in life, don’t you think I should be able to do more than just work? I know you’re on the edge because my grades aren’t the best but that’s not because of basketball. I mean, I’m not even playing and those are my grades. Maybe, do you think we could just give it a try? Just to see how it goes? If it doesn’t  work out and I continue getting bad grades, I’ll understand if you want my focus to be on that. But there’s no way to know unless we try. I’ll focus on studying math as much as I can, I can even get a tutor. They do those at our school.” Greg spoke like a mouse hiding in the walls.

“Greg, where did you get that speech from?” His dad patted him on the back.

“I just had a little inspiration, that's all.” Greg said.

“Well, that walk must have done you good. That was convincing, I’ll tell ya. Alright, I understand, I guess… we can give it a try.” His dad says.

“Really?!” Greg jumped up from the couch and gave his dad a big hug.

“Yeah, If that’s what you want.” spoke his dad.

Just then, his mom came into the room asking what the plan was going to be. Greg thought she’d been listening from the other room.  They all agreed that he could play as long as he spent a good amount of time on his homework. They also said they needed to see an improvement to his grades. Not right away, but soon.

“Thank you so much, mom and dad. I promise, you won’t regret letting me do this.” Greg said.

“We better not.” Greg’s dad shook his finger but had a teasing smile on his face at the same time.

Greg hugged his family tight and thought about Lemon Brown. About his son. About those kids that wanted what he did not have. He thought about how broken his own dad would be if one day Greg left and didn’t come back. He realized for a second how he didn’t need to play basketball, but he wanted to, because he loved it. His dad didn’t not want him to do something he loved. He wanted him to have good grades so he could be successful one day. He didn’t want his son not knowing where to go. He wanted him right there next to him, and Greg was okay with that.

"The Tell-Tale Heart" Creative Assignment

By Ellory Meyers  

The following is a creative piece that shows the perspective of the old man in Edgar Allan Poe's classic, "The Tell-Tale Heart.

I was awake. I had been awake these past nights. On Monday, when the creak was loud. On Tuesday, when the creak was small. On Wednesday, when the creak was nothing. Tonight, the creak was the sound of an old floor board. Pitched and cold. Though I could not see him, I knew the boy was at the door. I faced the other way, for I had a fear that if he got close, he would see me quiver. The boy stayed at my door. In shone a ray of light that landed on my face. I could not let it show, but I was terrified. 

I felt his breathing from across the room, filling it more than the furniture. I heard nothing for minutes, thinking he had gone like the other nights. It was a tradition now, that he would appear and shine this light and leave. Though I was sure the boy had left, I could not sleep, for I feared what he was organizing.

An hour passed, and I lay awake, scared to move, scared to breathe, when I heard the boy again. He had never left. I heard him get closer, the floorboards symphonizing as he approached. Impulsively, I turned to look at the boy. A ferocious animal was in his eyes and a slight snickering turnup rested at the sides of his lips. His eyebrows raised and he jumped past, pulling the bed on top of me. 

The breaths I tried to take were mere wishes. I moved, I sucked in as much as I could. Eventually, I cried. I cried because I entrusted this boy for the last 40 years of my lifetime. For he was my son. I remembered when he would come into my dormitory when he was younger. He would stand there and say “Papa, I cannot sleep.” and we would lay together for all eternity. Now he comes into my dormitory, and wishes death upon me.

I saw something occur. He started looking at me differently, acting as if I was not someone he loved but someone he despised. He used to have the sunniest disposition and now it was hatred. I saw it, I saw him change. Oh, how I wonder where my sweet boy went. Where his morning smile was, when his hair was ruffled. Where did his ruffled hair go? Where did the boy go?

I thought about him, his life instead of mine flashing before my eyes. Leading up to this moment, of him suffocating me. 

Suddenly, it was gone. All feeling, all pain. I felt as if I was floating! I was floating. I was drifting with the breeze that entered through my window. I heard the boy laughing. I sprung up and looked upon his face. I saw traces in his face of his ruffled hair and morning smile. I saw a new person too. One who dehumanized me, saw me as an old man instead of his old man. 

He uncovered the bed over my old self, the one who couldn’t escape. He looked me deep in the eyes. He undid my binding. Taking off my head, arms, and legs. I could not watch, so I turned around. He put me inside of the floor, covered me up. I followed him. I watched him and watched him. I wondered the one thing that wouldn’t leave my mind. It screeched and wailed but I ignored it.

The police arrived, they looked around but I did not follow. I stayed with the boy. I watched as his smile reached the ends of his face, not a fake one. I watched as he lied, standing above my dead body. I watched solemnly and somber. The men seem to know nothing, but I did not mind. 

All I wanted was to get into the boy’s head. To hear what he wanted coming out of this situation. To know what he had against me. I focused on his head, trying to understand his actions. I focused on his head so much that eventually, he began to seem shaken. He fell to the ground screaming that he did it, he did it. The boy did not say why, so I lifted into the sky. So I left. Oh, how I wonder where my sweet boy went.

Music by Luca Cella

Many people in the world like listening to music.  Music is most known for calming people down or helping them fall asleep with comforting noises.  In the 1960s, 1970s, 1980s, and 1990s many major bands came out with albums and songs that were a great hit.  Some of these bands who produced this music were The Beatles, Pink Floyd, Pearl Jam, and Nirvana. These artists were very popular throughout their time period even though many of these artists were going through hard times.  Sometimes when I am studying or doing homework I put on a soft album in my airpods or through my record player.  One of my favorite albums is a Beatles album called Rubber soul (made in 1965). I think that this is one of my favorite albums because it has many varieties of music throughout the album.  During the Great Depression (1929-1941) music became very popular and I think this is because it reveals stress as the Great Depression was a very stressful time period in history.  Before everyone had phones people would listen to music from their record player or from a radio.  This concludes that by listening to music 15 minutes a day can help reduce stress, anxiety, mental health, and helps you sleep better.  That is why music can play such a role in one's life. 

pit by ellory meyers

Feeling bad about yourself is not a worry

It is its own feeling

It is a small pit in your stomach

Creating pins and needles in your nose and 

On your eyes

I don’t quite understand how

I feel like this

Maybe it's the curiosity, the confusion

Absolute.

Because I have loved you for a year

This is losing you all over again

But this time with the possibilities

I thought…

I thought.

I thought?

Did I even really think

Did I listen to what my mother told me

About you?

No, I didn’t think

I was lead by the strings in my heart and 

Without the thoughts in my head

When really all along you'd take anyone

What did i do

To deserve this breaching fire in my throat?

Rising.

Feeling black surround me in ways I’ve never felt before.

It’s you,

Walking away again

Cutting deeper this time.

Because of the possibilities.

What did i do

Even now when i know none of it

Was real?

I can't pull myself together

Or out

Of the pit.

it's late by ellory meyers

I wake up. You wake up. 

We don’t want to,

but we cannot dismiss the sun.

We then work.

We learn and we make and create,

things we do not find interesting.

Things that bore us.

We have brief interactions

with the people that interest us,

until we are told to silence by the people we look for affirmation from,

approval.

The day lingers like a candle

someone took brief time to blow out

and didn’t look over their shoulder to recognize that 

the flame had withheld through the fog.

We wait.

To be free to do what we choose,

for mere hours,

Before the cycle is repeated.

Weeks are long and unbearable,

Waiting for our two days of chaotic rest.

But they are only illusioned to be long.

Really they are short days we

Waste away

Waiting

Soon,

We are gone

Golden cage by ellie zegestowsky

It was a long time before I could leave

The door swung open

I stepped out like a child who had never known the real world

The cage had been a whirlwind of

Me feeling crazy

The golden lines of the barrier 

Turned too bright to look at

But I couldn’t escape

I shrunk back into the corner

But I was burned

When I finally left

I thought I was free

Until there was a gust and I flew backwards

Slamming into the cage 

And the door shut and the lock clicked and I must have forgotten 

Everything else that happened

“Girl?”

I opened my eyes

“You get stuck inside your mind too much.”

I argued that that was untrue

That I was in this world as much as anybody

That I wasn’t crazy, but they looked at me as if I was

Because that wasn’t what they had asked

But inside my body was warring with itself

Inside I knew

That my mind was the golden cage

harvest by ellory meyers

I didn’t ask for you to put your hand in mine,

I didn't want you knowing I wasn't fine.

But you did because you “cared”,

And so eventually I shared.

The sun the moon the stars

Are better consolars than you

You took what I told you and cried with me,

You lied to me.

And then you took it all and laughed at me.

You told them all like what i spoke to you,

A joke

You riddled me, you puzzle

You told me i had muscle

Then you ripped it.

It's been a while 

But that doesn't mean I'll smile when I see you.

You do though,

You tied it with a bow.

You forgot.

You liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar.

Come what may,

You betray.

I had faith

Now I'm scathed.

hope, attempt, love. by Adrienne allen

Hope. All I do is hope. 

I never attempt.

They have never believed in me so I shall leave their minds.

I dreamt,

I dreamt that I left all doubt and all my hopelessness faded away.

I called your name in a proud manner as you walked across the field of my mind. But then I woke up.

I saw you again and life went on; but I still didn’t attempt.

Days flew by as I cried, I felt worthless.

I was a bundle of knots, too tight to ever be untied.

But then you spoke to me and the knots loosened. 

A ray of hope was brought from you and it blinded my eyes slightly.

And that is when I remembered, I love you.

pick and choose by Ellie zegestowsky

If you looked back and you decided you hated my past

You have to know I’m doing everything I can

I can’t make you love me

I can’t make you love all of me

I know that you only love the part of me that gets lost is sweet and kind

And that’s not the only part you should love

You should also love the part of me that wants to travel the world

Go horseback riding on the beach

Watch sunsets in fifty different places

Go night swimming until the sun comes up in another country

Sit in a bakery in Paris and write in a leather notebook

Collect old books from different places

Go to bookshops in a bunch of countries

These are the things I want someone to love that I want

You only love one part of me

You can’t pick and choose what parts of me to love

Blood stains by Ellie zegestowsky

The battle was over

And I could not move my hand

You were squeezing it 

Because it had been too long since I last saw you

There was blood stains on my hands

That nobody else could see

But you

I thought that throughout the war

I had lost my humanity

My beliefs

I thought I destroyed myself

But you were there

And that made me rethink

We had died together somedays

We thought we lost

But we picked ourselves up and called us home

The Sun by Ellory meyers

The sun does not shine like it used to. 

The earth does not move as it used to.

The waves aren't happily jumping anymore.

They’re sleeping. 

The rain isn't as hard as it used to be.

My mind is a bit dimmer than it used to be. 

I wish I appreciated that feeling more. 

Because nowadays, the sun has lost its smile.