Bloody Head
Samuelle is rushed to the ER after bumping his head at the playground I don’t know why this happened. I was a nice, calm person. I was new to the area, and I had moved...
Memoirs
Personal narratives and life experiences
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Samuelle is rushed to the ER after bumping his head at the playground
I don’t know why this happened. I was a nice, calm person.
I was new to the area, and I had moved there not that long ago. I was nine years old and l loved going to the park, so I asked my aunt if I could go to the park across the street from East Side Middle School.
The narrator celebrates the beauty of ballet
Since I was three years old, ballet has played a huge role in creating and shaping my life. Looking back about ten years, I can see it has made me a more emotionally aware person. I don’t have much to say about starting ballet. It was mostly a parental decision around the time I was getting pretty skilled at walking.
A meditation on erasers
Erasers are pure magic. Think—a simple little block that lies snugly in your palm. With a motion from your hand, it neatly removes all the ugly strokes and smudges from the paper, no matter what paper it is and what texture it has, noiselessly.
A fun backyard play session with friends takes a turn when Eloïse falls off the monkey bars
This story is dedicated to my Nana for helping me throughout this.
“Go! Go! Go!” my friend Addie and I shouted. Olivia, my neighbor, was showing us how fast she could run, zipping around my backyard, sprinting past the flowerbeds and back like a cheetah, her brown hair swaying as she picked up ...
The narrator says goodbye to her great-grandmother’s apartment
Sunday, Feb. 20, 2022
I’m going to miss Gram’s apartment a lot. I wish we could stay longer. There are so many memories there. I remember when I brought Apples, my guinea pig, and Gram was a little nervous because we couldn’t have pets in the apartment. One time Porsche, my aunt, came to the apartment.
The writer’s imagination turns a pile of driftwood into a pirate ship
Whoosh, whoosh! The wind whipped my hair. Seagulls struggled to fly against the wind. They were like kites getting flung around, as flimsy as rag dolls. I lay on my back in the cool sand, looking up at the clouds. They looked like gray grandmother curls.
The narrator relishes the first snow of the year
When the snow first fell this year, it was in the night. I gazed at it, mesmerized.1 But because it was too dark, I couldn’t go out, so I could only hope to find knee- high snow the next morning.
Early the next morning, I jumped up from my bed, flinging open the blinds. The snow was like thick butter spread on every surface.
Is the sea a dark, terrifying force? Or is his fear unwarranted? The narrator wonders during a family vacation
Golden sunrays flowed through the open window of my train. My anticipation burned as hard as the surface of the sun. My ears were suddenly assaulted by the screeching of the train stopping. The wheels crawled to a stop as we arrived at the station.
An ode to a desk
It’s heavy, old, and has scribbles all over its body. But it is mine, and I love it.
My desk has been with me for at least three years. It used to be my dad’s, but then my parents gave it to me. When I got my desk, it was pretty clean, but it didn’t stay that way. It has paint smudges on top and underneath. My little brother even drew on it.
The narrator is subsumed with fear and worry as a mysterious pain fills his stomach
The afternoon sun shined hard on the tall NYC buildings, making them look like gold, as my mom and I walked home. My hand reached out for the door; the peeling black paint fell gently on my fingers as my hand closed around the knob.