Two Middle School students from the GS Warrior Writers Jalan Jalan are eager to share excerpts of their writing from this semester. They have chosen to share them under their pen names.
1. A 5 Ws Short Story- Written by Miles Maes
(This prompt was given in class & we had 15 minutes to write a complete story)
What: Goes to a funeral for her pig, Bobett (a boy).
When: July 18, 2018
Where: Underground Cave
Why: Bobett died, and he was her life, so she invited the whole town.
Bobs POV (Point of View)
Bobs eyes glistened in the dull torch lights, struggling to keep herself together. Person after person walked up to Bob, saying things along the lines of: “I’m, um, so sorry for your loss.” and “May,” a brief side whisper, “Bobett! May Bobett rest in peace.” And one crazy whopadinger had the nerve to walk up to her and say “Hey! Is this where the barbecue’s happening? When do we eat?”
Bob stared at the sheriff, (for that’s who he was, Sheriff Hammen) then whispered silently “Oh Bobett, please forgive him.”
She took the sheriff by the arm and led him (quite strongly, for an old woman) to the moat that circled the underground island, and pushed him into one of the boats. Sheriff Hammen stared at her, bewildered, then took the oars and started rowing himself back across to the exit, muttering things like “Crazy old lady! Who does she think she is, anyway? Doctor Doolittle?”
A bell tolled, and she hurried back to the coffin. It was time.
Bob settled herself on the plain wooden stool at the top of the boulder that served as a stage, where the coffin was perched. She waited until the audience was silent, then began her speech.
“Thank you, everyone, for coming here today.” she began in her doddering old English accent. “We are here to honor,” she paused and wiped a renegade tear from her eye. “Bobett, the most loving pig in the world. He always knew when I was sad or mad, and disappeared at that time.” She frowned. “Though I suppose that isn’t exactly loving…”
Bobetts little pig heart raced, struggling to stay still.
Any minute now, I’ll be carried out of here, and be free of that smothering old woman.
He heard the old coot pause in her speech, and footsteps coming his way.
No! I’ve been discovered!
The coffin slowly opened, and Bobett launched himself out, landing with a splash in the moat.
What!? No, it can’t be… Bobett?
Bobett soared high overhead and landed in the moat, swimming frantically.
Bob narrowed her eyes, thinking,
So, its come to this, has it? Very well. If a chase is what you want, then a chase is what you’ll get.
Bob ran to the moat and ended with a flying leap. The dark, icy water consumed her, dragging her down. She could just barely make out Bobetts little pink legs churning above her. She closed her eyes and fell to the bottom of the moat with a thump.
Bobett climbed out of the moat and ran upwards, towards the sun.
His only thought was; I’m coming, world!
Excerpt from ‘Untitled’ by L.S. Peterson
“O cachorro e o gato bebem leite,” Peter recited. “Oh, shoot! It was bebiam.”
“Duolingo?” asked Jane. She peered at his phone, noticing the bright red x.
“I’m doing good,” Peter said to no one in particular. “I-am-doing-fine.”
“Congrats to insanity,” mumbled Jane.
“That’s right,” said Peter. “That’s good.” Jane coughed.
“Uh, Peter, can I get you a juice?”
“O gato𑁋bebeu suco? Do cats drink juice, Nat?”
“Huh?” Nat looked up from the phone he and Jane shared.
“Gimme that.” Jane snatched the phone away.
“Hey!” Nat complained. “I was on season three.” Jane quickly typed up an English to Portuguese translator, and copied off Peter’s phone, the phrase he was supposed to translate. The cat drank juice. Huh.