October 2024

Fright Club

Want a chance to be published for your writing? Enter your 100-word or less story in the Fright Club Contest! See Mrs. Dickson for more details.

Student Work!

The following work is from Mrs. Starks' English 9 classes. Students were tasked with writing a poem about where they came from.

I am from pink silk blankets

From the sweet smell of the Suave kids banana scented soap and Schleich animal figurines 

I am from the multiple moves

(Cardboard boxes, heavy totes, with an old smell)

I am from the Great green Pine trees, sticky sap that never came off and the strong smell of Christmas

I’m from the split holidays and gossip 

From Janet and Diana 

I’m from the sober thoughts and slurred words

From “I love you more than you love me” and screaming 

I’m from lack of experiences, sheltered at home

I’m from unknown and Thomas

The empanadas, hot and cheesy with a crispy, crunchy edge crust, and everything else made from scratch

From the skunks and squirrels my grandmother fed

The belongings my mother found

By her mothers bedside

All part of long forgotten memories

by Ariel Thomas

I am from the lake

From cloth diapers and button snaps

I am from the long driveway and dirt road

Quiet, secluded, whistling of the wind in the leaves

I am from the apple tree,

The one we planted in the backyard

I'm from big dinners and awkward gatherings

From Rachel and Chris 

I'm from the screaming and yelling

From doing what you are told and staying out of sight

I'm from going to church every sunday to sleeping in every weekend

I’m from the cabin at perkins pond

Meatballs and angel hair

I am from the cheers and encouragement from the bleachers at my games

From the love and guidance of mrs. Jackie

From selfies at the lake house with my dad 

I am from replaceable objects and irreplaceable people


by Vincenza Deschamp

I am from nature

I am from the billowing smoke of the campfire and the whistling rhythms of wind.

From the soft green, grassy blanket, and that moss, ferns, and sticks.

To the creeks and winding rivers that are full of rocks and fish.

To the simple things like water, where everyone can swim.

I am from swimming in the lakes and streams and the joy that it could bring

To swimming in the swimming pool with the smell of chlorine.

Reading is my getaway along with movies too,

Whenever I read I picture me out in solla sollew,

I would read on the couch, or in my bedroom alone

Because at that point I didn't have a phone.

I am from Legos and music so loud, it could rupture your eardrums without a doubt.

Whenever I built them I would not pout, instead I’d be occupied for hours about.

My Legos are endless, there are too many to count

And according to my sister, they tasted like... plastic

I’m from falling down, then getting up and scraping off my wounds,

And running away to Mr. Lee to wash away my tears.

When I would go watch Marvel, I’d feel empowered to be,

Anything I want to be, just like on the screen.

I am from a musical family that forgets a lot

And listening to music to escape all my thoughts.

When I'm playing music, I feel all the notes

Deep down inside me, like a reassuring quote.

Music is life, is what I am told,

But by listening more I think its really deep in our souls.

I am from theater, where the warm, sweaty, spotlight can be cool and all

But the family you meet is the best part of all

My theater friends are the greatest of all, because they will catch you each time you fall.

When I do a show the most rewarding part is seeing the faces of children so dear.

When I see their eyes light up like the stars it gives me my fuel to fully play my part.

I am from nostalgia now, that's all I think about

Just think about your childhood and watch the tears drip down.

Just now I've learned that the best way to survive

Is to focus on the now, because that's the only time you drive.

Instead of being home all day and sitting on your phone,

Go and make new memories for nostalgia down the road.


by Julian Houghtling

The following is from Creative Writing I! Enjoy :)

You wore the face of friendship well, A mask of care - I couldn't tell 

The warmth behind that smile was cold, 

And every word was a lie retold.


by Sukhleen Kaur

I bared my soul, What a fragile thing,

A bird to eager on clipped wings,

You held my trust like glass in your hand, 

And I believed, I couldn’t stand.


by Sukhleen Kaur