High School Creative Writing

I ran, my feet bloodied and aching, my ankle unsteady and shrieking in pain. I ignored it, gasping

Think about your experiences of writing at college. Which types of assignments have you found helpful in strengthening your writing skills? Where do you want to improve your writing? What’s the most useful advice you’re received that’s helped you improve your writing. Be as specific as possible.

Upper school English teacher Ms. L.C. says her favorite smell is that of a melting popsicle in the summer. “I love the sweet fructose of the popsicle juice,” said L.C. “Especially the way it combines with the smell of the wooden stick.”

"Wake up, partners," the trail boss, James called. I sleepily looked up , shivered, and saw I was the only one not up. "Here," James said, giving me the horses' bridles and saddles. "Take these and get the horses ready. We have a long day today." I groaned in reply and set up the horses for the day's long drag. I was the horse wrangler and this was my everyday job but I still couldn't get use to the idea of waking up before the sun and working. We drove the cattle into open plains against the winter's cold wrath.

Turning off the TV, Andrew grabbed his keys and rushed to the garage, angry for not being more cautious. Driving down the street as fast as he could to get to the cleaners, he said, “I wonder if Margaret has her phone. I will call it,” he said, pushing the buttons, he waited, and said, “Oh, no; it went directly to voice mail. She must have turned it off, but why would she do that?”

There was a sense of impeding doom that turned my stomach. Although I couldn't bear to look at the mask I held outreach to you, my eyes were tempted to look to you. I side-swiped a glance at you before you took the mask. My eyebrow arched as you looked at me, visibly distraught. My eyes did a double take, and my gaze fell curiously back on you. I sensed a feeling of unease from you, and became immediately confused. “Your master never teach you Torture 101, Mr. Ren?” Although I was mocking you, there was a sense of concern in my voice, as I looked over to the Dug and then back at you. “You look like you've seen a ghos-” Holding out the mask in front of you, I watched you intently as your eyes fixated on the item. My eyes narrowed at that reaction, and suddenly, it made sense to me. Perhaps you had seen a ghost. Fully educated in the many various connections within the Force, I wondered if in this moment you had seen anything. If in this moment, his darkness had fallen on you. I pondered the horrors you had witnessed... and if any one of those horrors was my own. I wondered if it was pain you experienced, and even... if that pain was my own.

This is it. The championship game is in the last quarter, down to a minute and a half. The line of scrimmage is at the 10-yard line. Jeffery, the quarterback, fields the snap, and he looks for an open receiver. Tommy, his best friend and the tight end, is unmanned in the end zone. The throw is perfect. The crowd roars in excitement that Thomas Jefferson High School won the State Championship.

I wake up to the alarm clock blaring loudly in my ear. Next, I rise slowly

“Mr. Josten, Mr. Josten!” yelled one of the eighth graders from my current math class in Crescent Middle School. I figured it would be another out of context question, as that was the norm for Andrew. Andrew had always seemed to be the one who tried his hardest, but could not focus on his schoolwork, or anything for that matter. I acknowledged his raised hand to hear, “what would happen if someone figured out how to pass things through time?” I figured since there was a small amount of time left in the class period, I could answer his question thoroughly since I majored in both math and science. “Well Andrew, if I had to guess I would say that someone would receive that object unexpectedly in a different time period. However, if someone creates

Slowly time passes, no one comes to check on me so I stay lying on my bed held captive by my thoughts. I begin to stare at the clock focusing on the precise slow ticks of the minute

A tall robust boy with dark hair and yellow eyes entered Ellingburg middle school school at exactly 7:55 on september the 18th, it was the second day of school. His big build is easy to locate in the rush of teens. There is a tap on his elbow he looks sideways, at a medium sized boy, something changes in his eyes. Jack is short compared to Sebastian. Jack is a skinny boy with long legs, his dark hair hanging loosely over his dark brown eyes. A loud bell rang and Jack grabbed Sebastian's arm. Sebastian froze for a second and then ran. Sebastian knows Jack just thinks of him as a friend, but it is different for him, he does not know if Jack knows.

In my sixth grade year, 2015, I was sitting on the couch reading a book. Suddenly, a scream rang out. As quick as a cheetah, my mom ran into our living room and showed me her computer’s email. Excitedly, I took the computer. On it, was a few sentences congratulating me on making ILMEA orchestra. It was a music festival with a choir, a band, and obviously, a orchestra. I was so excited, I had to call my teacher, Mrs. Lafranzo. So, no more than four months later, I was in my car heading to Oswego East High School for morning practice.

Soggy streets, bland houses, and terrified citizens fill Rivertown, Virginia. Dark, gloomy weather has been rampaging since the death of a freshman at Rivertown High School, six months ago. The leafy, emerald pines that make up the forests of this small city, have been dulled by the rain and lightning. These forests are now considered dangerous due to the mud, roots, and the hills that are scattered across the land. Disappearances of more high schoolers in the area have the whole state terrified.

At six a.m. I tumbled out of bed at the sudden sound of my alarm clock. I’m never ready for it when it happens. I rolled off the bed, hitting the floor and as I steadily got up to

"Sometimes you gotta let something bad happen, or else you wont know how to fix things when they go wrong later."