Teen Read Week Winners
Teen Read Week 2004
|
Steven Gallo, Age 14, Mathano Educational Center |
|
| 1st Place Poetry |
Rachael Minus, Age 15, Coral Springs High School |
| 1st Place Visual Arts |
Aspen Fox, 15, Hollywood |
| 2nd Place Visual Arts |
Daniel Pabon, 17, Sunrise |
| 2nd Place Essay |
Alyssa Seroussi, Age 14, Pioneer Middle School |
| 3rd Place Visual Arts |
Silvina DiPietro, 13, Hollywood |
| Honorable Mentions |
First Place/Short Story
Killer in the Attic
By Steven Gallo
It was a late Monday night when it all happened. It happened so fast! One moment he was there and then the next…he was gone. I guess you’re wondering what I’m talking about? Well, here’s how it all began.
It was a Monday night. My parents were leaving for an important meeting with their job. The meeting was in
I was in my room when it all started. All of a sudden Jerry comes running down the hall and pounds on my door. Boom! Boom! Boom! When I saw him pale and scared I asked him, “What happened?”
Jerry gasped for air. He said, “Antonio passed out! But he said it so fast that I couldn’t understand him so I told him, “Slow down! Tell me what happened.”
Jerry stopped, took a deep breath and said, “I was playing a trick on Antonio. I locked him in the attic. He had a flashlight with him. Then I heard a loud scream. Then a hard, crashing sound.”
What was it?” I asked him.
I don’t know,” he gasped. “I went up to see what was wrong. I saw his flashlight on the floor. I picked it up and shined it around.”
And? I prompted. I couldn’t believe how long it was taking him to tell me.
I saw him lying there! I checked to see if he had a pulse.”
And did he?”
Yeah! He did. But there was a pool of blood on the floor. It was coming out from the closet.”
Wait, wait, wait!” I screamed. “What do you mean there’s blood?”
Would you let me finish?!” he screamed back. “That’s when I came running down here to tell you. “
I don’t believe you,” I said. The thought crossed my mind that they were trying to play a trick on me.
No, man. I’m for real. Come on,” he yelled pulling on me. “I’ll show you.”
We went up to the attic. By that time, Antonio was already up and hiding in the corner. He was petrified, as if he had seen a ghost. I asked what had happened. He said, “Jerry locked me in the attic! I was screaming, let me out! Then I heard a loud creaking sound. I turned around to see where the sound was coming from. That’s when I saw it.”
Saw what?” I asked. There was a long silence.
“Saw what?” I said in an anxious voice.
In a slow and mellow voice he said, “A big green hand with warts and blood all over it. It came out of the closet!” he said. “I screamed as loud as I could.”(Aaaaaaahhhhhhh!)
We both jumped when he screamed.
I tried to run away,” he whined. “But he stretched out his hand and grabbed my leg! I fell to the ground. Then I guess I blacked out because that’s the last thing that I remember.”
We went back down to the kitchen and got something to eat. Not a couple minutes passed when we heard someone call Antonio’s name. Then there was a silence. Then we heard a bunch of noises. We saw Antonio going back up to the attic. We tried to stop him, but it was like he was in a trance. He had a strange look on his face, like he was a zombie or something.
Jerry ran and stood in front of the door. But Antonio walked straight through the door! Jerry and I just stood there. For a second we looked at each other in astonishment. Then we stared at the door. We tried to open it. It wouldn’t open! It wouldn’t even budge.
We went downstairs to call his mother. When she answered the phone we told her every thing that had happened. She didn’t believe us. She thought we were playing a joke. She hung up!
Now we didn’t know what to do. Should we try his dad? The cops? No. I wasn’t supposed to be having anyone over. The rest of the night Jerry and I just sat on the couch and looked at each other. What else could we do? We were both scared. We couldn’t even close our eyes. We wondered what would happen next. We wondered if that thing in the attic would come after us next.
The night passed and nothing happened. The next morning we were awakened by the sound of pounding doors. We jumped up only to realize that it was the police! Antonio’s mother had called the police! Now we were in for it!!!!
We figured she had told them everything, so we decided to just come clean with the whole thing. But when they asked questions we realized they didn’t know. We realized Antonio’s mom hadn’t told them anything. So we wondered why they had stopped by. Cops just don’t stop by your house for nothing. It turns out all they wanted was to tell us they had received a call saying that a Mrs. Morales (that’s Antonio’s mom) thought her son was missing.
We asked her when was the last time that she had seen him,” they said. “She told us that the last time she saw him was on Monday night. She said she gave him permission to sleep over here. Is that true? The officer asked.
That’s correct,” I replied.
They began to investigate. They couldn’t find a clue. They couldn’t even tell that he had been there. The officers left puzzled. I tried to reach my parents but no luck. So it was up to us.
Jerry and I went up to the attic in full armor. We used big pots for a helmet. We were going to take this green-looking piece of junk down once and for all! If we didn’t do it then it would never be done. We would have to be scared for the rest of our lives.
We went up to the attic and sure enough, there he was. I opened up the closet door. Our hearts were beating out of control. But suddenly a braveness struck us. I don’t know where it came from. But I know it didn’t come from us. I swung open the door. A green, ugly face was looking straight at us! He had razor sharp teeth as long as fangs. His skin looked like it was melting off his face! He was covered in blood. When we looked down there were arms and legs everywhere. Some were small, some bigger. They looked like they could have been kids. No wonder why we got this house so cheap, I thought. It was because of this thing!
All of a sudden I felt angry. “I’ve had enough!” I said. Jerry looked at me. I left to go downstairs to get my fathers’ World War I sword. Before I realized Jerry was beside me. We picked up some weapons and began to march back up to the attic. We went in swinging like there was no tomorrow. I came in close, aiming for his head. I thought I had gotten it. I thought it was over. I let my weapon down and gasped for breath.
Then Jerry called out my name. I turned around. I looked in the closet. Now the thing had two heads! He had mutated! I knew this wasn’t going to work. We needed a different plan.
I looked over to the left and saw Antonio hanging from the wall. I felt so bad. I hung my head and closed my eyes. Suddenly I thought I heard his voice say, “Help me!” I twas one of the most terrible sounds I have ever heard. It was the sound of someone crying out in pain. It was a death cry.
The green monster started to laugh! He said, “There is nothing you can do. He’s dead. And you’re next!
I felt only anger. I said, “You took my friend’s life. Now I shall take yours.”
I got the sword and ran it straight through him. He just laughed. He said, “You fool! You can’t kill me!”
I didn’t know what else to do. He just couldn’t be killed, no matter which manner I tried. Then I heard a voice. It was one that I didn’t recognized. It told me that the only way to kill him was to release all the souls from out of his body. How do I do that? I thought. The voice went on to say, “One of you must distract him while the other one goes around him and stabs him in the back. When you do that you must reach inside, grab each soul one by one, and then run the sword through.”
Okay,” I said.
Be sure to take out every soul, because if you leave even one soul he will die but in a few years he will gather enough strength and be ten time worse than he is now. “
I was shaking in my shoes. I didn’t know if Jerry was. He looked scared enough. Maybe even more scared than me. He kept behind me while I crept closer so I could hit him. When he was so distracted that he didn’t know who was talking and who was hitting him. I began taking out all the souls from inside him. When I was done, Jerry stabbed him in the back with the sword. Dark green blood and guts oozed out of the thing. Quickly Jerry reached his hand in and started to feel around for any leftover souls. There were none left. The monster got weaker and weaker. Then finally, he died.
We started dancing around the room to rejoice. Suddenly, a bunch of kids started to come out of the closet. We danced and shouted, cheered and slapped each other in congratulations for a while. Then I remembered Antonio. He was groaning something terrible from the corner he was hanging in. We cut him down. Then he came and joined us.
It was a wonderful moment until…we realized we had forgotten one of the souls. I could have slapped Jerry so hard.
You were the last one to check,” I yelled at him.
You were in charge of removing them,” he yelled back.
The other kids just stood around and stared at the closet.
When my parents came back I told them everything that had happened. Guess what they said? They didn’t believe me! They threw their heads back and laughed! They even called some relatives and told them about the wonderful “fairy tale” I had come up with. “He’ll be a writer someday, I tell you,” my father roared.
Everyone thought it was a big joke. But until it happens to you I guess you won’t believe me either.
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What Breaks Me Also Makes Me
By Rachael Minus
Goosebumps are an everyday thing in my life.
From dim spirits that whisper soft, smooth words in my ear,
To the ink-black shadow, slightly visible amongst the obscurity that surrounds,
As it rests, waiting patiently just outside my window.
The light dent that appears in my bedspread,
As if someone sat down to relax for a while, but all that surrounds me
Is air…clear, transparent atmosphere…
Therefore, my nerves are forever frazzled
The hair on the back of my neck always at attention.
Am I the only one who sees the ruby eyes in the corner,
Entrapped in darkness, and sparkling with ominous glee…
Breathtaking delight…
My search for suspense is never-ending
And I fear I’ll lose myself
Before I reach my destination
I’ll delve deep into the pages of those novels.
Their words and new pages, though they smell of the factory,
Also hint of the scent of fear-induced sweat.
That piercing aroma that tingles in the nostrils…
It’s addictive
The heart-stopping scream that lingers in the darkness…
I could have sworn it was real…
There is a hole inside of me…
I’m missing the one thing I crave for above all.
The one thing that keeps me sane, yet simultaneously
Drives me mad.
Don’t thing that my heartbeat doesn’t increase in pace…
At the tender, feather-like fingers that graze my arm…
While we’re enclosed in dark,
My mind races and I realize…
That there’s no one there.
It drives me wild…
The thought of touching the spine of the
Newly released rendezvous
Of the season,
Of my life.
It sets aside time…
SPECIAL TIME, precisely for that inevitable
Period of insomnia
When my mind focuses on nothing but the here,
The now…
The temptation.
It’s my fear, passion, craving…
My downright obsession,
Complete and utter infatuation.
You hold the key
To my soul
The thrill.
You hold the one thing I depend on fully,
My imagination’s only foundation…
You’re a library
And a dear friend…
A dealer in the illegal,
The horror, the fervor, the excitement…
You keep my hunger sated
With only the scan of the bar code
And when I ask you for more…you provide…
It is truly ALIVE AT MY LIBRARY.
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Second Place/Essay
It’s Alive @ Your Library
By Alysha Seroussi
At precisely 5 p.m. every day, the librarians at the at the public library close and lock the doors. For another precise five minutes, all is silent. Then chaos is unleashed.
Didn’t want me? Of all things!
– put me in the wrong section! How is B anywhere near X?”
Yes, you read it write (he means right), he tore out my page.”
Thought I was wrong! Ha!”
SILENCE! A deep, musty voice commanded.
All the books would wait quietly for the Master Encyclopedia to speak.
You will get your chance to talk,” he said. “But now, you’ll -”
He was cut off, as usual, by a lone mutineer, Treasure Island.
What makes you in charge? Fiction is much better than reference,” Treasure Island, a fiction book, boasted. Immediately and predictably, all the books protested.
That can’t be proven as a fact,” lectured a non-fiction book titled “The Difference Between Fact and Fiction.”
True, very true,” Fantasy agreed. “But everyone loves me.”
Non-fiction frowned, “That can’t be-”
Fiction interrupted, “It’s actually proven that 99.9% of all people like fiction above all.”
Did you ask 99.9% of all people in the world?” The Almanac sneered.
Why, I’ll have you know” Fiction ruffled (as only a book can do) indignantly.
Oh!” sighed Self Help. “If you all could just get along. In fact, all you really need is to get married, have 2.2 kids, and live happily ever after.”
Romance swooned at the idea.
What splendid idea, if you could just hold hands and think happy thoughts then everything would be fine,” said a smiling edition of Happiness For Dummies.
All good things must come to an end,” Philosophy imparted wisely.
Self-Help stared in horror at Philosophy. “Do you have no self confidence? You choose your own path. If you don’t want bad things to happen then don’t let them.”
Carpe Diem,” muttered a Latin Dictionary.
Self Help stared in utter confusion. “Excuse me?”
Action snickered, “It means ‘Seize the Day,’ smarty pages.”
Are you mocking me? Now I could see how you have such little confidence in yourself that you have to belittle others to make yourself feel good. But that is not a solution,” Self Help droned on. Action, spurred by the boredom of inaction, nudged Self Help off the shelf.
Ahh! The nerve! Violence is never the answer-” She shrieked on the way down.
Several other books (The Chicken Soup for All Souls as the ring leader) chided Action. As all the action (literally) was going on, Encyclopedia was waiting patiently for everything to settle down.
For the whole night the debate ran on: Who was the best? Who was checked out the most? The least?
Finally, at 7:59 a.m., everyone got silent at the turning of the key in the lock.
This was the time Encyclopedia finally said one last thing.
I am the best. I know everything.”
The door opened. No one could protest.
That would have to wait for another day.
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Sarah Teplicki
What do people thing when they go into a library? Stereotypically, there is an elderly librarian who hovers over her desk glaring at the patrons to be quiet, massive shelves stuffed with books in no particular order, and huge silent signs. All of the above are false; anyone who volunteers at the library knows that the library is alive. “Huh?”
Most would ask with a confused expression but the fact of the matter is the books talk and the impressions that these books make change lives forever.
Read me!” shouts Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. Have you noticed that books have expressions? They do. The way they are shaped and their expressions penetrating through the title page help patrons see the library for what it truly is.
For example, In Cold Blood by Truman Capote has the grim, smoky eyes that alarm the reader with danger. Some will argue that books don’t speak and it is ludicrous to talk about their expressions but if people looked a little closer at books, they would notice that they are alive. Most people have such chaotic lives that they don’t stop to read their expressions and gain the knowledge that every piece of literature has to bring.
Therefore, next time anyone labels the library or even books that for that matter, explain that books are alive and that if they looked a little closer the world is at their fingertips. A great man once said, “The knowledge of the world can only be obtained from the words and examining these words to gain the understandings of others and the human mind.” In accordance with this statement, books are people put into sentences and reading these sentences will give a better understanding of how to cope with life in general.
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Honorable Mention
Kim Frost
Inside the Library
A musty pile of books
Seemingly ever eternal
With just a few looks
They have become paternal.
Glancing through the pages
Paints pictures in my mind
Floating on a cloud
I leave the world behind.
Soaring through the air
Leaping through the trees
Nobody knows where
Except maybe the breeze.
It whispers in my ear
Of stories long ago
My heart is filled with fear
But onward I must go
Into the darkness ravishing with fear
I turn off my senses but the voices I still hear
And in the witching hour
They’re torturing my soul
The books commands its power
My spirit it has stole.
And now I must go find it
For without it I’m not me
But before I can retrieve it
I must solve this mystery.
How did it come to this?
I really do not know
My aim was all amiss
But now it starts to show.
Twisting till the end
I’ve uncovered the way
My old ideas I mend
Like remolding the clay.
And now it seems so simple
Did I not see it before?
My laughter shows a dimple
And I just want to read more.
The dark and treacherous plight
On which I first began
Has finally come to light
And accordingly I plan.
Continuing my quest
I take back my spirit
And strive to do my best
No longer do I fear it
I gaze upon the rows
Of many different books
My thought continually grows
Going beyond looks
It may seem like an odd place
This silent library
But I search beyond its face
And it’s certainly alive to me!
