It Was Just A Dream

by Olivia H
(Molalla, Oregon, United STates)

I once had a dream. It was the worst nightmare. I thought it was real when I woke up.
I was at the beach with my parents but then a scar (a tornado) swept us up.
I once had a dream. The best dream ever. I wished it was real when I woke up.
I was on stage singing a song. When I finished my song, the audience never stopped clapping. They threw me roses and coins and presents.
But everything you see when you are asleep is just a dream. Sometimes you wish it wasn't a dream, but sometimes you are so glad that it is just a dream.

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Toxic Gunk in Washington D.C.

by Trevor Dow Ford
(Meadow Bridge, West Virginia, United States of America)

One day an overly large black widow from the Canderburry Galaxy came down to Earth. It had accidentally wandered into a spaceship that was bound to explore a certain city in a certain country on the planet of Earth.

While the spider landed in the countyard of the Pentagon it jumped out spitting Purple acid. This purple acid wasn't any normal old acid. This was the secret acid of Narusis planetary system.

The spider wandered around the city scaring people here and there and sightseeing. He didn't notice it at the time but the president was building a giant spider-trapping shoe.

As the spider walked around Washington D.C. passing the Lincoln Memorial, The Washington Monument, and the National Air and Space Museum. The spider missed his old home in his old galaxy and he wished that he would have never wandered into that spaceship.

The Army placed the giant shoe over the entire city. The only problem was that the shoe would crush all of the buildings, but it would be worth it. The president pressed the button to drop the foot, but he accidentally nuked Canada.

He hit the button beside of it and crushed the spider but for an unapparent reason the city was just flattened. When they lifted the foot up the city returned to normal. The person who did this didn't want to be recognized but whoever he was, Washington D.C. is eternally grateful.

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My Crush

by Marcille
(Montgomery, Alabama)

I dream of him on a regular basis. I daydream every minute when my mind is not focused on my work. One day, I looked in the mirror and said, "I can't take this anymore! He can only say yea or nah if I ask him out."
The first chance I got, I was interrupted by one of his friends , who rushed up to him and urged him to follow him. He act like he knew that I was about to make my move. The second attempt went like the first, the only thing, it was my friend that interrupted me. She wanted me to hear her dilemma and give her my advice. I managed to listen, but I knew if I didn't approach him today, I would have to wait until next week.
I was mentally preparing myself for a very long weekend, after my third attempt failed. While heading to my car, I heard someone call my name. I looked back and it was him. My heart started beating extremely fast. I stopped and waited for him to catch up. Once he reached me, he introduced himself. and asked me out. Of course I accepted the invite. Out the window with the torment. The fact that he asked me made it even better.

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She left her shoes now

by KC chan Wing haw

She took out a pencil to draw. At the back of her mind, she had this very clear image of her creativity. But her fingers were disobeying her right now.

It was very unusual that this behaviour surfaced. In short, she does have once in a green moon. She never took care of it. All she did, was walked towards the window and placed her one of her palms outside one of the window panes, and began to draw circle in about five times.

Then she moved back to where she had begun her piece in a very gentle but fast motion. This, at least, she tries to control her hands.

In about five minutes, the shaking returns.

She put the pencils onto the ground, removed her shoes, rolled out her socks and walked out of the room.

As soon as she arrived in the living room, she jumped around the sofa. She had to sweat it out. she did it once but that was an advice from the doctor. Now, she had forgotten the reaseon for doing it. It was a long time ago.

She counted the number of times she had jumped, she felt bored and returned to her work.

After taking up the pencil, she completed an artistic piece of two shoes paired up together.

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Billy's Return

by Brian L. Mellon
(Edmonton, Alberta, Canada)

Billy was a young boy of ten. His mother needed him to go to the corner store to pick up some coffee cream – with the reward being his favourite meal, Macaroni and Cheese. Billy happily agreed, and with five dollars tucked into his pocket set off on his task.

While on his journey to the store, Billy stopped to pet Mrs. Peterson’s new puppy, but only briefly. Soon enough he was on his way and arriving at the corner store. He pushed the heavy door to the store, but it would not budge. He pushed it again, having done it successfully many times before. Still it did not move. He peered through the window on the door and noted that the lights were on but no one appeared to be inside.

Billy decided to go to the back of the store. Sometimes Mr. Martin would lock the door for a short break and go out back for a quick cigarette. When he arrived at the back of the store, he noticed the rear door was open but Mr. Martin was not around. He poked his head into the back of the store to see if Mr. Martin was there – and was quickly pulled inside, not to be seen again for thirty years.

Billy, now forty, walked into the yard he had left so many years ago, wondering if his mother still lived in the house and how she would react once she recognized him. He walked up to the door and rang the doorbell.

A frail lady answered, bent and grey haired, but Billy recognized her immediately. “Hello Mom” he said in a broken voice. She looked up at him, suspiciously at first and then with a face of recognition.

She cried out to him “Did you get the cream?”

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The Flower

by Abigail

I thought that it was my mind playing tricks on me, but it was real all right. It was pearl white, with its petals flowing in the wind like a soft breeze. Nothing seemed special about it, yet I knew.

It started only a week ago. The flower was magic. It gave me a choice, either to wish or to die. But there was a catch.

Anything I wish, the flower messed with it. If I happened to wish for a piece of cake, than I would only get a crumb. I hated the flower. And I doubt it liked me too.

That's how I got here. I am waiting for the flower. I had wished, my accident, that I was never born. When I realized my mistake, the flower was already gone, making mischief.

I don't have much time to write. With only water and an apple by me, I think I am soon going to die. Please help. I only got ten minutes. Oh n-
The End

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What to do?

by Tommy
(Round Hill, Virginia)

It was the first day of junior year. I had been the star baseball player for my high school last year, and the year before that. I led my team to the championship game, where we slaughtered our rivals in a 16-4 victory. That was sophomore year though, now it is junior year, and I can tell that it won’t be good. My coach had guaranteed a spot on the team because of last year’s performance. I still had to go to tryouts though, and that didn’t go too well.
I missed every ground ball that was hit to me, and swung and missed at every pitch. I thought I might as well quit, but that’s when my friend Bobby, came up with a solution to my problems.
“You want me to do what?” I said.
“Just take them for a few days, and if it doesn’t go well then stop.”
“I will think about it,” I said, knowing that I will never do it.
Bobby wanted me to take steroids. I really had to give this a lot of thought. My coach had benched me our first three games, but finally decided to let me play right field. I got one fly ball to me the entire game, and I dropped it, giving them the lead. I came up to the plate with a runner on first and third, with one out. All I had to do was make contact.
My coach had told me to bunt, but I decided to take a swing instead. The man on first got thrown out at second, because he thought that I was going to bunt. The next pitch, I struck out. That ended the game with us losing six to five.
Losing the game had been my fault. But now I decided to take the steroids. Immediately I felt fantastic, and my muscles growing. I couldn’t wait for tomorrow’s game. We were playing the Shenandoah Sluggers.
I got my chance in right field the second inning, when there power hitter hit a shot, that should of went over, but instead I snagged it before it could reach the other side of the wall.
Once again I was up with a man on third, with two outs. This time there it was a tie game. This pitcher must have heard of the last game, because he threw the laziest pitch in the world. I loaded up and swung so hard I almost threw the bat in the stands. I felt my muscles tighten, and hit the ball. I watched the ball go up, and just keep going. It cleared the wall by a mile, and I knew it when I was running around the bases. The teams had already lined up, waiting for me to touch home plate.
In the locker room, everyone was happy. Everyone except Johnny, who is our power hitter and is the best player this year.
“What’s your deal?” he said.
“My deal,” I replied
“You can’t just go from being in a huge slump, to hitting a walk off homerun.”
“I guess it was just a lucky game,” I said.
“No, it wasn’t just a lucky game,” he said making it clear that he was going to find out that something was up,
I don’t even know what I’m going to do.

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One of the Crowd

by George Hutchings
(Poole, England)

I am just one of the crowd. Every single day, I walk mindlessly from my office block to the nearest sandwich shop, just like a million other helpless souls. All wear the same tired expression on their disappointed faces. This is not where they thought they’d end up when they were young. Now we are all stuck in the same routine.

I wouldn't say that I have a bad life. But equally, I would be lying if I were to tell you that I am proud of my accomplishments. I have a steady job at a bank in London with a large enough salary, which bought me a decent flat five years ago. I am a single man and an only child with no ties to any place since my parents died. When I left school at eighteen, I lost contact with the only people I would class as ‘good friends’. Of course, I have workmates, but they are just people that I see, not people I am grateful for knowing.

But it is not the lack of action, or mystery, or even lack of love in my life that makes me feel bored. It is the fact that I know I cannot change things for myself anymore. What I cannot stand is that I am trapped. I hate catching somebody’s eye in the street, and seeing that they know too, that they are trapped. But even worse, is catching somebody’s eye in the street, and seeing that they haven't yet realized that they are trapped. Without them, there wouldn't be a crowd. I would know. After all, I am just one of the crowd.

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Diamonds In Death

by Laurentz Baker
(Stone Mountain, Ga)

Yellow tape roped off a small area of the Atlanta International airport parking deck. Reporters peppered Detective Drew McKnight with questions on top of questions, and the murmuring from the travelers made it all the more difficult for Detective McKnight to hear.

“One at a time. Please!?” Asked Drew.

“Can we have a description?” asked a reporter.

“Yes, an African American male, American citizen, 32 years of age. According to the coroner he’s been dead approximately three days.”

“Was he traveling? Was he here to pick up passengers or drop off passengers? Did he work for one of the airlines?”

“Hold on,” said McKnight, loosening his tie and removing his jacket. “The deceased passport was stamped on October 31st in London and on November 1st in Atlanta…his boarding pass? Nowhere to be found.”

“Was the car his?” asked Channel 46 Alexa Lindsey,” and what…?

“The smoke grey Cadillac CTS coupe is registered to him.”

“And could you confirm that the deceased smuggled diamonds from slave mines through London, England to Atlanta?” asked Ms. Lindsey, holding her phone closer.

“Nice try,” said Drew smiling. “I didn’t say it the first time…Ms?”

“Lindsey,” said Alexa.
“Ms. Lindsey I’m not allowed to divulge any more information. Thank you everybody.”

“The USA Today newspaper that was folded open to an article on top of the deceased luggage read… “Diamonds stolen from heiress during Halloween birthday bash at a sprawling estate outside of London,” Drew said.

“Yeah I saw,” said the captain, “but the newspaper was under his jacket and the doors were locked. So how does Ms, Alexa Lindsey know anything about any smuggled diamonds and better yet any diamonds from slave mines.”

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