Eight MLC students earns awards in 13th annual writing contest; Here are their literary works
The 13th annual Creative Spaces Writing Contest held its Creative Writing Contest Awards Ceremony for the top three place winners, their families and teachers in the Conference Center on the Southwest Minnesota State University-Marshall (SMSU) campus on Sunday, April 23. The keynote speaker was James D. Autio, an artist, educator and poet from the Twin Cities.
Southwest/West Central Service Cooperative (SWWC) and the SMSU Creative Writing Department partner to make the event possible. Students from 
16 area school districts and many individual students participated in this year’s contest. There were 194 student participants, who submitted 284 entries. Students in grades 3-12, attending public, private or home schools within the 18-county area of southwest and west-central Minnesota. They can enter the contest through a classroom assignment or on their own. The categories included Poetry, Fiction and Creative Non-Fiction. Entries must be the student’s original work and previously unpublished.
The goal of the Creative Spaces Writing Contest is to encourage the love of language and writing for all students and as a way to recognize the talented young writers in southwest and west-central Minnesota.
Medals were awarded to the top three finishers in each category in the following grade levels: 3/4, 5/6, 7/8, 9/10 and 11/12. First-place winners in all categories and grade levels were also awarded a $20 gift certificate to amazon.com. First-place 11th- or 12th-grade winners received a $2,000 scholarship to SMSU. Students also receive an anthology of the winning entries. A small reception was held after the awards.
Mountain Lake Christian (MLC) students won eight of the 15 available awards, earning the second year in a row an award for having the most medalists in the compeition. Accepting the award was MLC High School Language Arts Instructor Kim Friesen.
Individual winning writers for MLC were:
+ First Place –
- Summer Janzen, Fiction, Grades 9/10.
- Ethan Schroeder, Fiction, Grades 3/4.
+ Second Place –
- Regan James, Fiction, Grades 9/10.
- Kate Janzen, Fiction, Grades 7/8.
Third Place –
- Danica Dick, Non-Fiction, Grades 11/12.
- Rachel Sajban, Poetrey, Grades 11/12.
- Kylie Klassen, Fiction, Grades 9/10.
- Sam Petersen, Fiction, Grades 3/4.
“Writing is a focus area for us and I’m glad to see our efforts are producing dividends,” says Dr. Michael James, MLC Administrator. “I’m thrilled to see these students rewarded for their efforts.”
Entries are preliminarily judged by SMSU Creative Writing Program students, who score the entries according to a rubric. Each entry is scored by multiple student judges. The entries with the highest scores are submitted to the final judges, faculty in the SMSU Creative Writing Program:
- Poetry – Professor Steve Pacheco.
- Fiction – Professor Judy Wilson.
- Non-Fiction – Ruthe Thompson.
Explanations of the three categories are as follows:
- Poetry (Grades 3-12) – What is Poetry? The language of imagination and feelings. Prose explains – and poetry sings – but it doesn’t have to rhyme. Poetry is precise, concrete, fresh, memorable and magical. A poem, like food, can feed us. It can be a peach, a pizza, a taco – or a four-course meal. But, it can also be popcorn or a candy bar. Always, poetry uses words as ingredients to let us taste, touch, see, smell or hear something in the world as if for the first time.
- Fiction (Grades 3-12) – What is Fiction? The art of storytelling. To build a good story, a writer needs: plot, characters, place or setting, point of view, dialogue, action and conflict. When we read a good story, we’re pulled into another world and leave this one far behind. We travel to different places in our imaginatio, and when we return, we often see our world with new eyes.
- Creative Non-Fiction (Grades 5-12) – What is Creative Non-fiction? An essay with real events and people that mattered or changed you: the day your pet chicken died, that summer your best friend moved away. Characters, settings and events are true. The writer decides the best way to grab our attention, how to start, what elements of poetry to add as spice – images, metaphor, simile – and what elements of fiction to add zing – characters, place, dialogue. This genre is popular because we read it and think, “Wow, this really happened to someone else, but I feel like I was there!”
Following are the MLC students’ literary works:
+ Summer Janzen – First Place in Fiction for Grades 9/10
Amazing Grace
A giggle escaped Jane’s lips as her soft fingers popped a sparkling soap bubble that had floated onto the chestnut haired stray. Mangy knots had buried themselves deep into the mutt’s fur. This dog had obviously gone days without food and shelter. Seven-year-old Jane Brown’s kind spirit was repulsed by the thought of making this dog stay outside her doorstep, unloved and unwanted. Ignoring his stench and appearance, Jane was determined to take him under her small wing and provide abounding amounts of love and forgiveness. This much needed bath, however, would be an essential part of making him presentable for Mother. Jane knew that her mother would likely turn up her nose at the sight of a stray wandering around her clean homestead.
The only other person who knew of Jane’s pup was Joe. He had tried to seem uninterested in the actions of his younger sister, but failed because of his love for all animals. It was Joe who helped Jane haul some water for a bath and swipe some of their mother’s homemade soap from the cellar. And it was with Joe’s help that Jane persuaded Mother to allow Pete to stay. Jane hadn’t had any trouble in getting Pa to say yes, for she was nearly impossible for him to say “no” to.
Jane had a beautiful voice and sang her pa to sleep in his old, wooden rocking chair every night. She would giggle when she heard him start to snore and plant her gentle kiss on his bearded cheek. Then she would tip-toe up to the loft and snuggle under her mother’s homemade quilt, and Pete would follow her up and guard her dainty feet. Pete was ever loyal to Jane, and he was Jane’s prized possession. Of course Jane never considered him a possession, but a friend, her best friend.
(Two Years Later)
“He’s gone, Pa! He’s gone!” Jane wailed as she burst into the family’s well-used barn. “There was just one rumble of thunder Pa, but Pete ran away when he heard it, just like he always does!”
“Don’t cry, my songbird, don’t cry. It is going to be all right,” Pa handed the horse’s rope to Joe and knelt down on one knee, embracing Jane in a hug. “Pete’s tried to run away from storms before, and he always comes back. Pete loves you too much to stay away from you, Jane.”
“Come on. I’ll take you back inside out of the rain. I’m sure that Mother has supper ready anyway,” reassured Joe as he finished tying Ben, the horse, to his post and escorted Jane back to the house. Jane’s rush of tears immediately subsided when she smelled the sweet fragrance of her mother’s apple dumplings.
The next morning, the air was still damp from the sky’s tears and humidity hung heavily in the air as Jane peeled the quilt away from her sweaty body. She waited for Pete to come and lick her hand, reminding her that this was a day with new adventures ahead. However, Pete didn’t come. Jane felt the unexpected tears trickle down her face. “What time is it? Why didn’t Mother wake me up?” Jane wondered to herself as she scurried down the ladder.
Joe, Pa, and Mother all sat around the kitchen table in silence. Jane couldn’t recall a time when her whole family looked so gloomy, and why weren’t Pa and Joe out working?
“Something must be wrong,” she thought. It only seemed right to walk quietly towards the table and take a seat in silence.
Once she did this, Joe finally spoke up, “Pete’s dead.”
“Joe!” Mother snapped. “This is not how we were going to tell her.”
“Wait, what?” Jane’s face showed sheer confusion. “Pete’s not dead.”
“Yeah, he is. Old Mr. Finik shot him last night in the storm. Brought his body by this morning, didn’t say a word. He just dropped it by the doorstep and shook his old head.”
“Joe!” Mother snapped again. “Jane, honey, I’m sure it was an accident. We tried to save him, but there wasn’t anything we could do.”
But Jane was no longer listening. Pete couldn’t be dead. How was this possible? Joe said that Mr. Finik shot him, but could he be lying? He had to be.
Jane had only seen Mr. Finik a few times. He lived about a quarter mile down the creek, all alone, in a shabby excuse for a house. Once in awhile he would visit the church, but Jane noted that he always came in late and would leave the minute the music started playing. She didn’t think that he would be one to shoot a dog, but who knew? He never spoke a word to anyone, and some thought he was mute.
Suddenly, Jane was aware that her family was staring at her tear-stained face in silence, and she tried to think of something to say; however, a new thought instantly clouded her mind with a deeper grief. “Oh, poor Mr. Finik!” Jane burst out in horror. “Pa! He must feel so bad about shooting Pete!”
Joe stared at her in surprise. “Jane, what did you just say? You need to be angry at Mr. Finik! He shot Pete!”
More tears gushed from Jane’s eyes and she added, “I know Joe, but I’m sure it was an accident. Mr. Finik must feel terrible for shooting him! Pa, please take me over there now! I have to tell him not to feel bad; that he doesn’t need to be sad because I forgive him.”
“But he killed Pete!” Joe’s angry spurt of words startled Jane and she sat straight up in her chair. “You can’t just forgive him, what’s wrong with you? He killed your dog! I mean, Pete was your best friend!”
Jane burst out the kitchen door in two seconds flat, and when she stopped running she found herself further down the creek than she’d ever wandered with Pete before. She plopped down on a damp rock and cried for a long while. Pete was dead. Joe was angry. Mr. Finik must feel terrible about what he’d done, and Pa hadn’t said a word to Jane all day. After some time, a damp figure loomed out of the mist. It was Pa. He silently embraced Jane in his arms and rocked her back and forth.
“Sing me a song, my little bird,” Pa gently kissed the top of her blond curls.
“I don’t feel like singing, Pa,” Jane said limply.
“Alright angel, but promise that you’ll sing for me soon. I don’t want grief to swallow up my little girl.”
“Pa?” Jane asked. “Can you take me to Mr. Finik’s house? I need to tell him that I forgive him.”
A sigh escaped Pa’s lips, “Listen Jane, I’d love to take you, but I promised your mother I’d make a run to town today. I’ll get Joe to take you.”
Clip clop. Clip clop. Ben’s hooves plodded down the rarely used path that led to Mr. Finik’s place. Joe sat in silence as he directed the tiny cart away from a place where the creek had flooded during the storm. Jane held the warm loaf of bread that she had baked for Mr. Finik carefully in her lap. The trip went too quickly, however, and soon the humidity revealed a weathered farm house, a broken chicken coop, and what must have been an old shack of sorts before the storm. Several chickens pecked at Jane’s bare feet as her toes settled themselves in the muddy earth.
Joe gazed upon Jane’s muddy feet and determination, “You go ahead. I’ll wait here. If I look at him I don’t know how I’ll keep myself from socking him.”
Jane sighed. Suddenly the house seemed a mile away, but Mr. Finik was in there and he needed to know that she had forgiven him. “Alright then Joe,” Jane said with confidence. “I’ll be right back.” She picked up her skirt with one hand, and cradled the loaf in the other. Then she took the first step towards forgiveness.
By the time Jane reached the door, her toes were so caked in mud that she couldn’t see them. Jane looked back at Joe, hoping for a reassuring glance, but he’d draped his hat over his eyes, pretending to take a nap. “One knock is all it takes,” Jane told herself. “Just one knock.”
The cracked wood came to Jane’s hand before she realized it, and she jumped at the noise it made. The door eased open. Uninviting, grey eyes peered down at Jane’s gentle, brown ones. “Um, Mr. Finik?” Jane started uncertainly. She waited for a response but continued when she didn’t get one. “My name is Jane Brown, and I came to let you know that, well, that I forgive you for shooting Pete.”
A flicker of life leaped into the dead eyes of Mr. Finik, but only for a moment. The door shut suddenly. Jane blinked in surprise then took a step back toward the cart. Mr. Finik had closed her out of his life, just as he had done with the rest of the world.
“Mother?” Jane asked, once they’d finished doing the supper dishes. “Why is Mr. Finik so gloomy? How come he never speaks?”
“Well, Jane, it’s a rather sad story,” Mother began. “Mr. Finik once had a wife who would bear no children, but one day they had a daughter. Her name was Jane, just like you. Jane was in my grade at school and we were great friends. Jane also had a beautiful voice, just like you. Her favorite song was “Amazing Grace” because it was her father’s favorite song also. Mr. Finik would beam with joy when she would sing. One day, Jane and Mrs. Finik were riding a train and it derailed. Many passengers were killed in the crash including Mr. Finik’s wife and daughter. He’s never been the same since.”
“So, Mr. Finik used to talk? He used to be a happy man? Like Pa?”
“Yes,” Mother sighed. “It’s such a shame what happened.”
“Where’s my little song bird?” Jane heard Pa call from his old rocker.
“I’m coming Pa!” Jane sang out. She trotted over and knelt beside him. Jane sang “Amazing Grace” until she heard his long snores. Then she left a kiss on his beard and silently crept up the ladder.
Clip clop. Clip clop. Ben’s hooves poked along the stream’s edge. Again, Joe and Jane were headed to Mr. Finik’s house. Jane had made a new loaf of bread, and was now fully prepared to be shut out if it were to happen a second time.
“You do know he’s not going to invite you inside,” Joe warned.
“I know, but there’s no point in giving up. How come you can’t forgive him for what he did?” Jane questioned. “What if you’d accidentally run over my favorite doll with your cart and I never forgave you. How would you feel then?”
“Pretty awful, I guess,” Joe contemplated.
“And I bet you feel pretty awful inside right now. I know I feel terrible when I don’t forgive someone. Then your heart starts to get hard, and you’re just very angry,” concluded Jane.
Joe pondered this until they reached Mr. Finik’s place. Chickens simultaneously crowded in on Jane and Joe’s cart and clucked as if they were guarding the homestead. Jane stepped down, and the hens anxiously scattered in different directions. She took several steps towards the weathered house and was surprised to find Joe’s feet making time with hers. She looked up at him, expecting him to say something. Instead he simply took her small hand in his and became the brother he hadn’t been before.
This time, Jane brought her hand to the wooden door with confidence. She heard Mr. Finik’s heavy footsteps approach them, then pause in front of the door. The door groaned, and those lifeless grey eyes gazed hesitantly at Jane.
“Mr. Finik,” Jane began. “My name is Jane Brown. I came by yesterday and I’m here again. I want you to know that I forgive you for what happened with Pete. I just don’t want you to feel bad anymore.”
The door didn’t slam shut this time. Mr. Finik’s gaze collided with Jane’s and she gave him a timid smile. To Jane’s utter disappointment the door closed with a slow groan, leaving the cracked wood in place of her smile. Jane listened. She didn’t hear Mr. Finik’s footfalls retreating from the door, but silence. This was a void that Jane knew needed to be filled, and in a sweet, clear voice came the familiar tune of “Amazing Grace”.
Once Jane had completed singing the first verse, she glanced up to find Mr. Finik standing with the wood door wide open. Sunshine shone on his tears turning each drop into a small diamond. Happiness, or perhaps it was joy, glowed on Jane’s face. She handed Mr. Finik the loaf of bread.
His voice was raspy when he spoke, but the words couldn’t have been any clearer to Jane. “I didn’t mean to shoot your dog. I thought he was a coyote. I’m sorry.”
Jane’s heart overflowed with relief as she walked toward the card with Joe by her side. The tune of “Amazing Grace” flowed from Mr. Finik’s whistling lips.
+ Ethan Schroeder – First Place in Fiction for Grades 3/4
The Mystery of the Hidden Cave
Once there was a girl of seven named Kerala. She had one sister who was twelve named Karli and one brother who was fourteen named Kyle. Kyle was very adventurous.The family names always started with K even the parents’ names. The family lived in a very old house on the edge of town. The kids spent many hours playing in the woods out back.
Kerala’s parents were on a weekend trip so Kyle watched the younger kids.One night Kerala had a bad dream.She woke up immediately, terribly frightend, and ran to Karli’s bedroom. She shook her sister to wake her up.
Finally,Karli woke up and asked, “What are you doing?
When Karli heard the details of Kerala’s dream she gasped, “I had the same dream.”
“WOW!” exclaimed Kerala. “Let’s see if Kyle had the same dream. That would be so weird.”
“Yeah,” agreed Karli. They raced quietly to Kyle’s bedroom. They shook him awake.
“Yep. I had that dream, too.”
In the dream they all went downstairs into their unfinished basement where they found a secret cave. They ventured in, with Kyle leading the way. They found clues written on the stone walls and tried to follow them. They had some trouble and mixed up some clues. The ground rumbled beneath their feet and opened up to a pit. All three kids fell into the dark pit. The girls screamed and Kyle tried to grab the side of the pit, but had no success and continued to fall to the bottom.
After comparing their dreams, they stayed up late into the night and talked about this mysterious dream and the hidden cave and what they meant. They decided to be brave and together they grabbed flashlights and walked quietly down the basement stairs, living out the dream. Kyle tried to remember where the opening to the cave was. He finally found it and called to the girls. They ran over and peered inside the dark mysterious cave.
“Let’s go in. I can’t wait to venture inside to see what we can find,” said Kerala.
“I’ll go first,” said Kyle,bravely shining his flashlight into the darkness.
The girls followed him in. It had a stone floor and words on the back wall, just like in their dream.
Kerala said, “What’s that on the wall?”
“It’s a clue!” shouted Kyle.
“What does it say?”
The clue said: You will be given a stone and a strong stick. Use them to make the shape of a brick. If you place it in the slot on the floor, the way will be opened to you.
“Let’s look for the stone and stick,” said Kyle. “ It must be around here somewhere.”
They searched around the cave for a few minutes before …
“I found them!” exclaimed Kerala. Kyle and Karli rushed over to her.
“Now we need to carve this stone into the shape of a brick,” said Kyle, as he grabbed the stick and stone from Kerala.
The stick was really sharp, but it took quite a while to get it looking like a brick. While Kyle carved, the girls searched for the place where the brick would fit.
Karli found the slot in the floor of the cave just as Kyle was finished with the carving. He popped it into the slot and the floor began to shake. The three kids were startled by the rumbling they heard as the wall in front of them opened slowly.
Kyle said, “Wow, that was cool,” as they coughed from the dust escaping from the secret chamber.
They shone their flashlights into the darkness and peered inside. They were all a little frightened, but Kyle was the first one to gain courage and venture into the secret space. Hesitantly, the girls crept in after him. They felt along the walls, which felt damp. They found some torches mounted on the side walls. Kyle had some matches in his pocket and he lit them up. The room was aglow and they could see that the floor was made of rock. The kids were creeping forward and about to fall off the edge of a cliff when Kerala saw a door on the other side.
Karli noticed a clue on the wall which said: You made it past the first clue. This next one will be harder for you. On the right you will find a slot that a coin will fit through. Drop it in and a lever will pop out. Pull the lever and a bridge will appear.
“I have a coin,” said Karli. “Plop.” She dropped it in.
Kyle grabbed for the lever and they heard another rumbling sound and a rope bridge came up from the bottom of the ravine. They all crossed safely and went through the door and entered another secret room. It was crazy to think that these rooms and tunnels were under their own house.
In the secret room they found what looked like a dead end, but Kyle found another clue. It said: This is not the end of your adventure. Look for a latch on the floor. Pull it up and a key will appear. Step down into the tunnel and use the key to open a trapdoor on the wall.
Kerala pulled up the latch and found the key. They jumped down onto the floor below. Karli found the trapdoor and tugged with all her might, but the door would not budge. It took the strength of all three kids to get that creaky old trapdoor open. Kyle shone his flashlight into the darkness. It was a really big room. On the side of the gigantic room Kyle saw a trail of gunpowder. He took one of his matches and set the trail on fire. It burned quickly throughout the room. They could now see that the entire room was filled with treasure. There were gold coins and statues, silver pieces, and gems piled all around the room.
The kids were stunned and all three gasped loudly.
Kerala said, “Treasure!” and she started running toward one pile of gold.
The other two followed her, tossing gold coins into the air and dancing around the room with joy. Finally they reminded each other to look for a way out. Kyle was near one wall and he felt a cool breeze.
“There must be an outside opening here,” he thought outloud.
The girls ran over to him. They hunted for the opening. There was a long crack in the ceiling. They noticed several rock footholds on the wall leading up. Before climbing up and out, they placed a few gold coins in their pockets to show their parents. Karli led the way climbing up the wall. She was followed by Kerala and Kyle. They had to push their way through moss and vines. They came out in the woods behind their house; no wonder they had never seen the crack before. They ran home and were exhausted and dirty. After recapping their adventure, they drifted off to sleep.
The three kids woke up early the next morning and laid their coins out on the table.Their parents arrived at home around 10:30 and were surprised by the story the kids had to tell. Dad called the local museum and the director rushed over to their house. The kids took him through the basement and tunnels and finally to the treasure room. His eyes got huge. He asked some more questions and the kids told him about their incredible dreams. He was surprised and said that their had been a myth about a great treasure in the area. Even though they didn’t get to keep the treasure, they would get a $3,000,000 finders’ fee.
They were so excited. They ran to tell their parents the awesome news. They were going to be rich. It turned out that Kyle wasn’t the only adventuresome one in the family.
After the treasure was removed, they cleaned out the tunnels and made them part of their house. The three kids spent many days playing down there.
+ Regan James – Second Place in Fiction for Grades 9/10
The Rapa Nui Treasure
Once upon a time in the Western part of South America lived two kids named Phoenix and Paisley. They loved to go on adventures all over their home country in Chile. Phoenix and Paisley’s parents had to go on a trip for a few weeks so they were sent to their Uncle Advar. Phoenix and Paisley arrived at Advar’s house which was only twenty miles from their home. Advar had to deliver food and other grain products for his business, so Phoenix and Paisley went with him. Advar and the kids boarded the boat and set sail on the Pacific Ocean to travel North to Peru. The waters that day were very rough and eventually the sail began to break in the violent winds. Because of this they could no longer steer the boat. As night fell the kids went to sleep on the boat and Uncle Advar stayed awake to try to fix the boat. He climbed the sail but the wind blew the cross beam off which hit him on the head and knocked him unconscious.
When Phoenix and Paisley woke up at sunrise they had washed up on the shore in their boat. They were amazed when they saw giant statues of heads lined up on the island. Out of the corner of Phoenix’s eye he saw a native Polynesian man. Phoenix waved his arms in the air to get the man’s attention. The Polynesian saw that Uncle Advar was still unconscious and ran to get something. He returned with a bottle filled with liquid that Phoenix assumed was medicine. Phoenix explained what happened and that his uncle Advar needed help. The Polynesian man promised that he would help and introduced himself as Kasion. Kasion poured the medicine into Advar’s mouth and Advar slowly began to wake up. The kids were so happy that their uncle was waking up. They realized that they could trust Kasion.
“Rapa Nui” said Kasion, as he motioned towards the statues. He helped Advar to his feet and explained that the villagers call these statues Rapa Nui as the four began walking towards the statues. Kasion and his family lived within one of the largest ones that had been hollowed out to make into a home. As they entered the statue, they saw that the home was bigger than just the size of the statue; it also extended underground. Kasion told them the statues were made between the years 1200 to 1500 and that other natives inhabited some of the other statues, as well. The kids found the stories that Kasion told to be very interesting. Suddenly they heard the engine of a boat that was approaching the beach outside of Kasion’s place. They instantly ran out and saw the huge boat filled with officials from Chile. The officials got off their boat and asked Kasion and his friends what they were doing there.
Kasion said, “We live on this island. This is our home that belonged to our ancestors long ago.”
One of the officials said, “We are officials from Chile and we own this island. We plan to turn the island into a place for tourists to come and visit. You may stay here for the rest of the month but after that we will find you a home in Chile so that we can begin building on the island. If you do not leave we will have to charge you 60 million dollars, the cost of the island.”
When Kasion heard this he felt scared and sad. After that, the officials left the island to go back to Chile. Kasion, his new friends and his family went inside Kasion’s house.
He said, “I cannot believe that they are taking our island.”
Word spread around the island that officials were going to take control of the island if they were not given the money.
The oldest man on the island, named Rakucha, went to Kasion and told him, “When I was young there was a legend that told of great treasure on our island. Now that the island is in danger we should find out if it is true. The legend told of a map that would lead us to the treasure.”
Kasion told everyone to search their homes and land for the treasure map but nobody could find it. Pheonix and Paisley were excited to stumble on this adventure and they searched Kasion’s house for him but they also did not find a map. As night fell everyone stopped searching and returned to their homes determined to search more in the morning. That night Rakutcha was in his kitchen getting a drink of water when he bumped a vase on the counter, causing it to fall and shatter. He was sad to have broken the vase which had been in his family for as long as he could remember. He bent down to pick up the pieces of the broken vase and he noticed that on the back side of one of the large broken pieces there were ancient carvings. Rakutcha was very excited. He took the piece to Kasion’s house to get his opinion. Kasion was sure it was the map they had been looking for. He said, “Tomorrow at sunrise we will get the whole village to search for the treasure together.”
The next day they went out to find the treasure. The map pointed West so everybody began their search on the West end of the Island. The map also showed a strange symbol by the Rapa Nui statue that was located closest to the shore. Uncle Advar began digging there and eventually he uncovered the entrance to a cave. He yelled for help so Phoenix, Paisley, Kasion and Rakucha all came running to help their friend. They began to journey deep into the cave together. The cave had two different paths they could choose from. Phoenix, Rakutcha and Advar searched the left path and Kasion and Paisley took the right path. Paisley and Kasion saw something shining by lantern light and picked it up. It was a key! Kasion placed the key in his pocket for safe keeping. Meanwhile on the other path, Phoenix, Rakutcha and Advar didn’t find anything and they began to realize their path must be a decoy so they decided to find the others and see if they had found anything on the other side of the cave. They all met up and continued farther down the path together. Advar saw a large wooden box from a distance and ran toward it.
“This must be the treasure” he said loudly.
Kasion came running with the key in hand and tried the lock. To his surprise, it opened. The box was filled to the top with shimmering gold bricks! The gold was too heavy to move so the group left the cave and gathered the villagers to help. The whole village worked together to carry out the gold bricks one at a time. Finally, when all of the gold was out they agreed to use it to buy the island from the officials. After the officials were paid they were surprised to find they still had money left over. They used the money to build a small history center to help preserve the artifacts of their ancestors and allow visitors to learn about the culture of their island.
Kasion and Rakutcha both thanked the three visitors for their help. As a thank you gift, all the villagers chipped in to repair Advar’s broken boat. Uncle Advar, being responsible, remembered that he still had a job to do. So he gathered the food and grain that had washed up on shore and replenished the lost product, being sure to deliver all the goods. Later, the three sailed home and left the village with promises to come visit again. Phoenix and Paisley were excited to go home and see their parents again but would never forget the adventures they had with their Uncle Advar on Easter Island.
+ Kate Janzen – Second Place in Fiction for Grades 7/8
Snowstorm
Her mother had passed away unexpectedly. She was just a half mile out of the village when the polar bear beast had come behind her and put an end to her life. Although Yuka knew polar bear attacks happened often to a strayed Inuit, she never expected it to happen to her own mama.
-Six Months Later-
“How dare you! You must go back home! No, wait, that would be dangerous, and I don’t have time to bring you back. What were you thinking?” Muktuk put his head in his mittened hands, but then stopped and straightened his shoulders. He must act like a man, he was thirteen after all. Muktuk took a deep breath and began again, “Yuka, my little sister, it was wrong of you to stow away in my sled. This hunting trip was for Tikaani and me. Hunting is not for young girls. Do you have an explanation, Yuka?”
Yuka’s bottom lip quivered underneath layers of scarves. The young girl began to speak, “I – I just wanted to help you with your hunting and protect you. I’m – I’m so sorry, Muktuk.” She looked down, ashamed by her own actions.
Muktuk looked at his little sister’s hurt expression and big, brown downcast eyes. “Oh Yuka,” he said sympathetically, “Of course I’ll forgive you.” He knelt down and gave her a hug. There was no way anyone could stay mad at that sweet nine year old girl.
Yuka sighed, “But now this hunting trip is ruined for you and Tikaani. What am I supposed to do?”
Muktuk remembered his best friend, Tikaani, suddenly. He surveyed the area and noticed him at the front of the sled by the dogs, squatting in the cold, white powder. After Muktuk called Tikaani, he explained to both of them, “We will just have to go on with this hunting trip with Yuka along. It might be cut a couple days short because we may not have enough food for the three of us.”
The three soon began again on their trek through the snow. Yuka contemplated once again her reason for stowing away in her big brother’s sled. Ever since their mother died six months earlier, Yuka had been protective of her father and big brother. When she heard that Muktuk was going on a week long hunting trip, Yuka had to decide who she was going to watch over. She decided Papa could take care of himself for a little while, so Yuka hopped onto the back of the dogsled, hid in some blankets, and chose to keep track of Muktuk for a bit. It had all gone wrong about an hour into the trip when she had sneezed, and her brother had heard her.
Suddenly, Tikaani’s low voice shattered her thoughts, “Do you want to set up camp soon, Muktuk? We’ve gone quite a long ways. I think we can find a suitable place to settle.”
Muktuk’s dark brown eyes looked at the surrounding landscape. The ball of fire that hung high in the sky shone on the hummocks of bright snow. As far as the eye could see, it was a white winter wonderland. He shivered as a gust of wind blew snow and icy air into their faces.
“Yes, that sounds good. Let’s set up right behind that bank.”
The clan hiked over and began to cut blocks for a small igloo. After about an hour, they were settled in.
Muktuk laid out their plan, “Today we won’t do any hunting, but tomorrow most of the day we will. Yuka, will you be able to stay here alone with one of the dogs? Tikaani and I will bring Koko and Siluk hunting, but Miki can stay here with you. Is that alright?”
“Yeah, I guess so. Just be careful while you are hunting, okay?” Yuka reminded her big brother earnestly.
“Of course we will be careful.” Muktuk agreed as he reached down to squeeze his little sister’s hand.
For the rest of the day they played with the dogs. Later in the evening, the three kids were lounging around their fire with the dogs when Tikaani spoke.
“Muktuk, I don’t like the look of those clouds,” he said as he pointed to a mass of gray storm clouds.
Muktuk took a quick breath. He shuttered at the thought of a storm. This could make it really difficult to hunt, or go anywhere.
Yuka let out a wail, “Oh, I hate storms! Especially snow storms.”
Muktuk took over, “Alright, I know you don’t like storms, but there is nothing we can do about it. Tikaani, please go into the igloo and start a fire, we need it warm in there. Yuka, you help me get these dogs in there. Hurry!”
The storm seemed to be coming quickly, and they worked faster. After they made sure everything was inside, they snuggled into their igloo. They could hear the wind blowing outside and the snow swirling against the ice walls of their makeshift home.
Suddenly, Koko and Siluk got up and bounded out of the igloo. Muktuk shouted after them, but they kept going without hesitation. Everyone knew that they could not go out in this storm, even though they did love their dogs.
Yuka began to cry softly. Her tears ran down her cheeks onto her scarves and coat. She pulled some of them off. Muktuk reached over and gave her a hug, “It will be okay, Yuka,” he comforted.
“I want Mama.” Yuka sobbed longingly.
“Oh, Yuka. Mama is right here,” her brother said, pointing to her heart.
“But I want her here! Hugging me, holding me!” Yuka began to cry louder.
“I want her too. But we both know that she was attacked by that polar bear, and we won’t be seeing her until we pass away too.”
“I know. But I still want her.” Yuka’s voice softened.
“Have I ever told you about why Mama named you Yuka?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Well, when she was pregnant with you, she would always go outside to look at the stars when she was not feeling well. But after she did that every day for almost a week, the stars suddenly disappeared. Every night, she would look for the stars, but she never found them in the sky. After several months of her doing this, Papa asked her why she kept looking even though she knew there would be no stars. Mama told him the on the day she sees a single star in the sky, that would be when she would have her child. A few days later, she went outside, and there was one single star. It was the brightest star anyone in the village had ever seen. And just as Mama had said, she had you on that night. A beautiful baby girl. She named you Yuka, which means bright star.”
Yuka smiled, comforted by the thought that she was so special to her mother. “Thank you for telling me that story, Muktuk.”
“You are welcome, Yuka. Now we should go to bed.” They snuggled into their coats and blankets and fell fast asleep.
They woke up early the next morning and went outside. There were hills and mountains of snow as far as the eye could see. There was no sign of Koko and Siluk.
“There is no way we are getting anywhere in this snow without snowshoes. We have two pairs, but none for Yuka, and neither of us are strong enough to carry her and our packs,” Tikaani pointed out.
“And the dogs ran away! This day is just full of bad luck.” Yuka whined as she flopped down in the snow.
Muktuk reached down to pull her up. “Hey, no moping around. We need to figure out what to do. No giving up.”
“But we are stranded in the middle of nowhere! What are we supposed to do?”
“We are not it too bad of a state. At least we have some food, a fire, and a shelter.”
“But Papa will never find us, and we can’t get anywhere in this snow!”
“Papa is a great tracker! He could find us in a heartbeat.”
“But there was just a big snowstorm. Not even the best trackers can find people after a big snowstorm!”
“Oh, yeah.” Muktuk agreed in disappointment.
Tikaani interrupted them, “Hey, guys, I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
“There was a huge snowstorm! There wouldn’t be any tracks. No one could find us after that.” Muktuk replied.
“No, someone can track through a big snow storm! Look!” Tikaani said eagerly as he pointed behind them.
Muktuk pivoted on his heal to see what he was pointing at. There was their Papa, being led by the two run away dogs, Koko and Siluk.
“Of course!” Muktuk exclaimed, “the dogs can track through the snow!”
“Papa! Over here! Papa!” Yuka shrieked and shouted as she jumped up and down, waving her arms in a frenzy.
“Yuka, Muktuk! You’re okay! We thought something terrible had happened to you when Koko and Siluk came to the village unattended. I followed them here.” Papa said as he embraced them in a bear hug.
“Papa,” Muktuk said, “we would have come home, but Yuka didn’t have snowshoes, and we aren’t strong enough to carry her.”
“It’s quite alright. Let’s get you home.” Papa said as they began on their trek to the village.
The End
+ Danica Dick – Third Place in Non-Fiction for Grades 11/12
Finding the Symphony
One, two, three; one, two three. Is it three/fourths time? Maybe it’s four/fourths time? I can’t seem to get it. Wrong, always wrong. I can’t seem to get it. They keep telling me to slow down, or speed up. But I can’t seem to get it. Try it, they said; it would be fun, they said. This isn’t fun, and it isn’t what I wanted to get myself into. Stuck, always stuck. Life keeps getting me stuck. My life, keeps getting me stuck. Is it that I just can’t hear the rhythm yet? They say that the rhythm of the future is exciting, wonderful, adventurous, and with your God given strengths you will make it! I believe that, so why am I always wrong. They say that I’m going to fast, so I cut down on activities. But then my inner self tells me to keep going, to push myself, to strive to be the best that I can be. My frustration comes and goes but this is my story and it’s a story about finding the finishing movement of my high school symphony.
Diary – August 21st – I’m Swimming…
School starts in three days, and I feel that I’m already over committed. All my friends graduated so I joined volleyball as a manager to hang out with my new friends. But that requires me to spend every day after school at the gym. I also committed to be a leader at my Youth Group while all my new friends go to a different youth group… I can hear myself drowning. Not in stress but in pain. I’m not one to complain about how my life is going but this is pulling on a different string in my heart. How do you let go of friends and a way of living that was so dear to your heart? Last year was easy. I had great friends, and was staying on top of my schoolwork. The rhythm changed over the summer and I hadn’t been watching the notes close enough.
Diary – September 10th – Nothingness
School started. As I walked down the school parking lot to my car, I noticed something. I hadn’t look up. I blindly watched my shoes hit the coarse and jagged gravel without even glancing up. This isn’t me. I love life and I love my school. I even love my school parking lot because of the glowing fall trees. This isn’t me. God help me keep my chin up another day… Numb, why so numb. I have heard of those people who don’t feel anything. No laughter, no joy, not even sadness. Their symphony consists of a single heartbeat– just holding on. They hold on from day to day. Dismal, melancholy, and brokenhearted just waiting to rain on someone else’s parade.
Diary – September 29th – I wish
I’m hungry but I can’t eat, I feel disgusting. Something about today, this month, has got me down. I wish I would sit at the piano and practice, I wish I would take art lessons, I wish I could dance, I wish I wasn’t overweight, I wish I could have my friends back, I wish I wasn’t so confused, I wish I would stop wishing and just trust God, I wish I could set my priorities, I wish the noise in the back of my head would stop, I wish I could concentrate on one talent and not feel stressed by all, I wish that someone would hold me, I wish I wasn’t so depressed, I wish I didn’t own so much stuff so I wouldn’t feel so cluttered, I wish that I wouldn’t wake up tomorrow… I meet so many people my age who wish they were dead. I heard a statistic that 83% of all teens in this generation have suicidal thoughts. Well, isn’t that encouraging! Weather this is true or not, we feel the pressure and it leaks into our hearts and brains. The pressure is like a minor chord making us cringe and close our ears. I never really felt “depressed” until this year. Maybe a little in previous years, when there was a paper or presentation, sometimes I would just stay in my bed a couple minutes longer because of the dread of messing up and making the teacher mad at you. But never like this. The competition in our day is so hidden it’s almost impossible to hear the diminished 7th note. Yes, you are special, unique, and free to be you. But you need to have money, a good job, good friends, look pretty, chic fashion, eat healthy, go to the best college, find your hidden talent, and on top of all that you need to make people like you. DO YOU SEE THE IRONY, or should I say the unbalanced measure?
Diary – October 14th – Months
God help me, she getting on my nerves again. I might break, I might yell, I might pull her hair out… BREATH. Exhale, inhale. Just breath. Be still. I trust that my anger will stifle out after 10 seconds. Why is it that until this year she’s never gotten on my nerves? Always questioning, always wondering, always hoping for someone to come and rescue me. Nothing seems to be getting better. I’ve been trying to be a better person but I still end up fake smiling at people. My brain sounds like the tuning orchestra; a little flat – a little sharp. Why can’t I just fall asleep.
Diary – November 17th – Hope
Finally, an afternoon to myself. I journal every day, but I love when I have an extra hour to spill everything. School is getting easier and so is the social situation but I still feel strange. My life changed when they graduated last year. I will never be in the same places, with the same people, doing life together like we did. But it’s going to be ok. Just trust and look up. Remember, that if your head is down for too long, your crown is going to slip… Adagissimo means very, very slow. Even though the tempo of my emotions are moving… they are still going Adagissimo. But hey, at least, I can sleep at night. I can feel the hope rising, the tune is changing poco a poco and even though situation hasn’t changed, I know I will be ok.
Diary – December 5th – Clarity
The sun just broke through the clouds. Wait, WAIT! I just noticed that the sun broke through the clouds! Pushing through the cruel darkness and the murky night sky. Hope is on the horizon. God help me see the world like you see it! Knock and the door will be opened, I knocked alright! I can see now that I am dark but lovely. Even though I don’t know what college I’m going into or what major, I can hear the music of my heart playing loud and clear… This isn’t just positivity, this is hope. Positivity is just being happy during bad circumstances but hope fights the darkness and finds a new rhythm during the horrible circumstances. Positivity survives, hope thrives. Even though I still haven’t been able to get on top of my bad habits, or made better friends, the symphony is playing loud and clear. My circumstances haven’t gotten any better, but we are coming to the finishing measures of the symphony. I have a few months left until the final measure where the last chord will resolve and then a new song of Change and Adventure will begin.
+ Rachel Sajban – Third Place in Poetry for Grades 11/12
Like Snow
He was like snow
Arrogant, bitter, cold, and
Truly breathtaking.
+ Kylie Klassen – Third Place in Fiction for Grades 9/10
Finding Her Voice
How does one survive without someone significant in their life? No family, no friends, no one there to look out for them? Well, it’s not easy, I can tell you that much. It’s like trying to live in the jungle with nobody around but the animals. That’s what my life felt like. My parents died in a car accident several years ago. I was in the car with them, and it was two months after my ninth birthday. As an orphan, I was considered a social parasite. I never talked to anyone, not the teachers or my classmates. I didn’t talk to my foster family. But one day, that all changed, when he walked in the classroom door.
No one had ever met him before, but from the look of him, he was going to be one of those popular kids. I had the special ability to analyze a person’s personality and group of friends was going to be. He was going to be another one of the people who were jerks to me. He walked in during third period social studies, stood and waited while the teacher read the note he was carrying with him.
“Okay, class, this is Christopher Mays. He is going to be here with us for the rest of the year, so let’s do our best to make him feel welcome.”
The whole class murmured a half hearted welcome to Christopher. He waited until the teacher told him to find an empty seat. There were two in the room. One was right next to me at my table, and the other was next to the most popular girl in the school, Lisa Naples. I think everyone expected him to sit next to Lisa, but he came and sat next to me. I slid as far away from him as I could.
“Hi, I’m Chris,” he said, facing me. “What’s your name?”
I didn’t give him an answer, and that made him only more persistent.
“Come on, what’s your name?”
“Oh, just give up, Chris, she doesn’t talk, ever. At least never when we can hear her,” Lisa said with a haughty tone.
Chris just turned and looked at me, not even responding to Lisa. He didn’t even voice the question I could see swirling on his face. I nodded at him and then turned to the front of the class. Everyone’s eyes were on our table.
The beauty of being the person who never talks is that I could make anyone turn away from me simply by glaring. I glared at everyone who was looking until they turned around. They all turned to the front of the class again, except for Chris. He just continued to look at me. I glared at him, but he only smiled. That was infuriating. After a few more minutes he turned to the front of the class again, with a smirk on his face.
As soon as the bell rang, releasing us from class, I was up out of my seat and gone before Chris had a chance to even attempt to talk to me. I was standing next to my locker getting my books for the next class when Chris suddenly appeared next to me.
“So, you don’t talk, huh? Why?” I’m not sure how he expected me to answer. I looked at him silently, waiting for it to dawn on him. His eyes suddenly widened a little bit, and his cheeks flushed bright red.
“Oh, shoot. I’m sorry. That’s really rude of me.”
I shut my locker door and started toward my next class. I shook my head, indicating that it was okay, just this once. Unfortunately for me, he had the exact same schedule as me and headed toward the same class.
I silently suffered through the next class with Chris beside me again. The bell rang, indicating lunch, which was a relief. He would probably leave me alone and go eat with everyone else. But, much to my dismay, he followed me into the lunchroom and sat beside me. Was it impossible to escape this young man for a even few minutes? I don’t know what his infatuation with me was but it had to stop.
When I finished my lunch, I got up to throw my trash, and, lo and behold, he followed. He was like a puppy who wanted you to take him home. I finally had had enough. I wrote him a note telling him to leave me alone. I handed the note to him, turned and walked away without a second glance.
When I walked into the next class after stopping at my locker, I saw him sitting in the chair right next to mine, again. He was so aggravating. I glared at him as I sat down.
“Nope, not gonna happen,” was all Chris said in response to my note.
I gave him the cold shoulder for the rest of the day. When I left the school, he was still following me. I whirled around to face him. I pointed away from me, indicating that he should walk in the other direction of me. He just smiled and walked past me. Now it was my turn to follow him. He walked past my house and to the house next door. He pointed at the house and calmly said, “That’s my house, so I wasn’t following you after all.”
Chris had a smug look on his face as he looked at me. I tried so hard not to let him see how frustrated I was with him. If the smirk on his face was any indication, I wasn’t doing a very good job. Well, I wasn’t going to let him enjoy this any longer. I whirled around and walked to the front door.
We kept up this little game for a few days. He’d follow me and bug me, and I’d get mad. But that all changed one day…
We were walking home from school when Chris suddenly stopped and looked at me. “Why don’t you talk? I know it’s not my place to pry, but I want to know. I don’t even know what your name is. Does anyone know what your name is?”
All of Chris’s questions came as a surprise to me. He had never asked me a question like that, we actually almost never communicated in any way. He was right, he didn’t know my name, no one did. My foster family never said my name, they had probably forgot it. I signed my papers with my initials. My name was something I had almost never heard in seven years.
I dug in my notebook for a sheet of paper so that I could write it for Chris. My hand felt unsteady as I wrote the name that I hadn’t heard in years. I handed it to him and turned and walked away. He stood there reading that piece of paper for several moments. He slowly started to follow me. We arrived in front of my house and before I walked in he said something.
“Glad you told me, Macaya Charlotte Milsap.” I paused in the doorway, looked back and smiled. “But I wish you would tell me why you won’t talk.”
I turned away and walked into the house. I would tell him soon, I decided. I might not be able to tell him with words, but I could write it out. I thought about this for a while. I think somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that it wouldn’t be possible to write it out.
I walked with him to school the next day. There was something different about him today, he wasn’t his normal self who constantly wanted to make me mad. No, this was a different version of him. He looked…thoughtful, like he was trying to figure out what was going on now.
Chris was like this the whole day. On the way home I finally stopped and looked at him. I gave him a signature look, one that said what is going on with you? I waited for a few minutes before he finally answered, “I thought knowing your name was going to be different, but I guess not. I still feel like you are shutting me out. No one knows your story. Can you at least tell me why you don’t talk?”
His eyes pleaded with me to tell him. I could feel those little strings on my heart, pulling me out, pulling my voice out of it’s cage. He stood there for several moments.
“Because they died.” My voice was like the whisper on the wind, barely reaching his ears. It was a foreign feeling to talk, but the look on his face when he heard my voice for the first time ever was like a kid on Christmas day.
“You just talked! Talked for the first time in how long?”
“Seven years.” I was still adjusting to using my voice, even hearing my own voice.
“Why so long? If you have been able to talk this whole time, then why didn’t you talk? Everyone was waiting for you to finally speak. They have been waiting this whole time.”
“I didn’t talk for all those years because my parents died in a crash and only I survived. They didn’t get to have more kids. They didn’t get to see their parents again. The car was engulfed in flames. They didn’t have a chance to get out before they died. They died because they were taking me to a park. A park that I didn’t need to go to but begged them to anyway because I was a selfish little girl who got her parents killed.” With those final words I fell to the ground, sobbing.
Chris came and sat beside me on the ground. He rubbed my back and whispered soft comforts as I cried enough tears for the seven years I was silent. For the seven years I put up with all of the issues of the world and ignored my own. When I was done, I looked up at him and gave him a weak smile. “Thanks. You probably think I’m a psychopath.”
Chris started laughing and said, “I don’t think you are a psychopath. I think you are a girl who has been hurt a lot in her life and finally caught a break.”
That was the start of a great friendship that would last forever. Chris and I remained best friends,in all sense of the word. We got married three years out of high school, and now we have three kids and two dogs. We have another two kids on the way. That’s going to be another adventure in our lives. We survived being sixteen. Together, we will survive the rest of our lives together.
+ Sam Petersen – Third Place in Fiction for Grades 3/4
The Childhood He Needs
I remember it like it was yesterday, going to sleep wondering if in the morning I would be lying in the debris of my house or my neighbors’. Waking up to the sound of bombs getting closer and wondering when they would be too close to make it out alive. My dad, bless his heart, had worked so hard to get me a one way ticket to America. He wanted to give me the childhood I needed in order to pursue my career as an author; he always put everyone else’s needs before his own. I was seventeen when I heard the news that turned my life upside down. I was watching my younger brother Daniel when my mom got the call. All I could hear was her crying, I knew something was wrong with my dad.
My father worked at the Embassy and our country was at war, which put a target on his back, but he still woke up and went to work to support his family every morning. The hours were terrible. He was supposed to work from six in the morning to midnight, but most nights it would be later than that. He got up early that particular morning to cover the shift right before his for a friend who was hospitalized because of a leg wound caused by a piece of flying debris. He would be fine in less than a month, but we felt bad for the family. Times were tough back then especially for money.
My mom walked into the room trying to hold herself together for Daniel. She sent him to play in the backyard, which was covered with debris. My mom sat down and sobbed, trying to explain what happened, but I couldn’t understand her through the sobs. I could make out only a few words: bomb, dead, and evil. My heart sank and I sat down next to my mom and cried, never having felt so numb before. My family was the only thing I had that the war hadn’t already take away from me. Being the oldest son I felt like I had let my family down. Was there something I could have done to save him? I never stopped blaming myself. To this day I don’t know exactly what happened, but I know he is gone.
My mom could not talk about it. The news hit hard for her especially when she found out that she was pregnant with her third baby. My mom was the toughest woman I had ever met, but after that call she was as delicate as a flower which any small breeze could blow around. Daniel was too young at the time to understand death, so we just told him daddy went away for a while.
The embassy offered me the same job as my dad so I could make a living for my now smaller family, and, of course, I accepted. The next couple of months were hard, but I was providing for my family and I felt like I was honoring my father’s death and making him proud. Days went by and my mother got closer to her due date; it was a high risk pregnancy and she had complications early on. The day rolled around and my mom was in labor. Syria didn’t have good equipment or hospitals during this time. About five hours into labor, the baby’s heartbeat started to drop. I could see the terror in my mom’s eyes. The doctors were more concerned about keeping the baby alive and didn’t notice my mother’s falling blood pressure. I don’t know if the doctors really did all that they could that day, but it wasn’t enough. They lost my mom and the baby. Then it was just me and my brother, in the world, alone.
Only being seventeen, I wasn’t old enough take care of Daniel so they put him in foster care. That day, I lost the only other three people in my life that I had left. I tried for weeks to get my brother back but it was too late. He was already adopted to new parents and a new brother. It killed me inside to know that in a year or two he was going to completely forget who I was.
The embassy gave me a new job, loading cargo for military planes. I realized this was my chance to go to America and make my father proud and finish what he started. For the next two weeks I watched for the best time to get in the cargo and hide. It took me a couple of tries, but I finally got the perfect hiding spot. I almost backed out of my plan many times, but I needed to do it for my dad. He always believed in me as an author; I missed him so much and just thinking about him made me teary-eyed.
When the plane took off, I heard someone walk in the door. They were whistling the same song my mother would sing to my brother at night just before he went to bed. I wondered if he could sleep without the song and if he knew how much I loved him. As the plane leveled out in the air, I heard the mystery man’s soothing whistle get closer. I tried to hold the tears back, but the song made me think of my mom and brother. I never had time to cry and mourn my mother’s death and the loss of my brother. I broke down and started to cry. The man stopped whistling and I realized he knew I was there now, but I couldn’t stop crying; I missed them. The man found me and I thought he would tell everyone that I climbed on board and they would throw me off the plane. But he didn’t. I wondered why.
“H-hi?” The man said in a cautious tone.
“Please don’t throw me off the plane! I’m sorry! I just wanted to make my father proud.”
I broke down and told the mystery man everything, about my family, about the war, and about the baby. The man must have felt sorry for me because he didn’t tell anyone. Instead, he introduced himself.
“Well, I’m sorry that happened to you. My name is Marlin, by the way,” he said in a southern accent that made me not scared of him as he held out his hand for me to shake it.
“M-my name is Sam. Aren’t you going to tell your captain and throw me out of the plane?” I asked, confused and a little uneasy.
“Now, why would I do that, it’s an eight-hour plane ride and I could use the company, plus it seems like you have been through enough,” hw said with a chuckle and a kind-hearted smile that made me feel safe again.
We both heard a rattling coming from the door. Marlin shoved me back into my hiding spot and sprinted over to his workstation. I peeked over all the boxes and I saw a man and Marlin arguing. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the man was angry. The man pounded on the table, startling me and I let out a squeal. I held my breath as best as I could as the man started to walk toward me. Marlin tried to bring his attention away from the sound, but the man was intent on finding the noise. He moved some boxes, pressing me against the wall. The man gave up searching and left, but not before slapping Marlin. Marlin seemed shocked and ashamed. He came to move the boxes and let me free.
“Sorry about that, Champ” Marlin whispered as he playfully punched my arm like my dad would do when we would play catch in the backyard before the war. Those were simpler times.
“That was the chef; I’m in charge of bringing the food from the loading dock to the kitchen, but I guess I missed the salad,” he muttered feeling embarrassed, but laughing it off.
“I’m sorry to distract you from your work and I hate to bother, but would it be too much to ask if you could bring me some table scraps, if there are any? I haven’t eaten in days,” I asked hesitantly.
“Why of course! You would die if I didn’t, and I don’t know about you but I wouldn’t enjoy carrying a corpse around and then throwing it out of the plane,” he said with an eerie smile and a chuckle.
After Marlin brought me table scraps, we talked about life for the rest of the flight. Once the plane landed, he snuck me off base and to his apartment where he helped me publish my autobiography about my life in Syria. Marlin was the best thing that could have ever happened to me and ended up being the only person I could trust. Now looking back as a 25-year-old husband with a newborn daughter, I have to think about what life would be like without the courage my dad passed along to me. Marlin is still a big part of my life and a great godfather to my daughter. He is now helping reach out to my baby brother. I can’t thank him enough for the impact he has had on my life.
