"Laser Show" by Marie O'Grady

Last night was crazy!  I mean, there were laser light shows, explosions, screaming and panicking.  I couldn't believe it.  When the thing happened, everyone was in an uproar, running as fast as they could and screaming.  They never came up with a slogan for last night's disaster, but watching these weird creatures kill nearly everyone was amazing, both in an awesome and totally scary way.  My dad was out of town, so he's probably okay, but who knows?  Not me.  My mom tried taking my older brother away from one of the things, but they were both eaten.  It was grody, man!

At least I know that my little brother and I are okay.  We have to hide though.  Now some of these things are friends of mine.  They started to like us, me and my brother, and didn't think that we deserved to die.  That could be because I lead them to a group of the stupidest and moost annoying people I know, and they were willing to let me and my little brother survive because we supplied them with a big herd of moving food.  Like I said, it isn't all bad; it sucks that big brother and Mom are gone, though.  There's probably, maybe, one hundred thousand people left...but hey, whose counting.  Gotta go now.  Little brother is trying to get into the sleeping chambers of the things.  I don't want to lose him, too.  Until the next disaster, be careful out there folks...it's ugly.

"The Talking Critter" by Marie O'Grady

Musical Cricket by Henry Walter Bates

I'm sitting at my desk in my room.

I'm working on my latest project.

I'm hearing weird noises coming from outside.

I'm walking to the door.

I'm opening the door.

Once the door is open, I see my mother

crouched down talking.

"You're such a cute little fellow."

"Mom, who are you talking to?"

"Just a little cricket."

"Okay...why are you talking to a cricket?"

"Because it started talking to me."

"Hello."  I jump.  "Who said that?"

"It was me, a friendly little cricket."

"Crickets don't talk."

"Well, neither should birds, but they do."

"That's because they're parrots; they're smart birds."

"Well, then that makes me a smart cricket."

"Whatever; mom have fun talking with your little friend.  I'm going back inside."

I walk inside and work on my project pondering

on the talking cricket and my mother talking outside.

"Since when do crickets talk?" I ask myself as I write it

down for my next writing project.

~poem inspired by dialog~

"The Gimme Gimme Bird" by Haley Ryan

Blue Heron (plate 79) by Eleazar Albin

I was swinging in the park with my younger cousin, when

I looked over and saw she had a bag of

popcorn.  As I swung by I said, "gimme, gimme."  She

looked around and then went back to eating popcorn.  On my

next pass I said, "Gimme Gimme" again.  This time

my cousin looked at me and asked, "Did you hear that bird say 'gimme gimme'?"  I said, "No, I

was saying 'gimme gimme.'"  She

looked at me for a while and then said, "So

you're the gimme bird, would like some

popcorn?"

~poem inspired by dialog~

"The Apocalypse" by Haley Ryan

Melting Volcano by Georgia O'Keefe

No one thought it was more than a mountain, just a place for dare devils to climb to the highest point on earth.  On June 23, 2013, we all learned differently.  Some hikers had gone to climb the mountain.  My dad was one of them.  5 days later they reached the top.  What they saw was not the top of a mountain, it was a pit of boiling lava.  Today is the day after the explosion that destroyed over half of the earth's population.  This is my journal of life as one of the few people who survived.

Entry 1:

My family died in the explosion.  My dog is all I have left.  I cannot leave the house because the air is filled with ash.  Any hope I have of finding another survivor has been dashed.

[End of Entry 1]

"Untitled" by Reyna Flores

Artist: Vincent van Gogh

~

I remember the blue sky.

I remember the green hills and grey mountains.

I remember the trees and the grass.

I remember running and flying and jumping.

I remember the red sunset.

Most of all, I remember the blue sky.

"Untitled" by Nikki Carter

Artist: Edgar Degas

~

I remember dancing.

I remember pointe shoes and partners.

I remember the dedication and the pain.

I remember stretching and hurting and pushing.

I remember grace and shame and lonely nights in empty studios.

Most of all, I remember a different time.

"Your Turn" by Nikki Carter

Some people swore that the house was haunted.  Jack was brave.  He stayed in that house for a whole hour.  Timmy lasted three.  Jane was determined to beat the boys.  They said she'd be part of the group if only she'd stay in there for a whole night.

An hour passed.  The house creaked and groaned.

Two.  Windows flickered.  Power lines sparked.

Three.  The roof shingles fluttered.  A few tumbled.

Four.  The cellar door rattled.  The lock over it shook.

Five.  The front door swung shut, and the lock clicked.

Six.  The power lines sparked again, and the dead tree caught fire.  The wood collapsed and the house burned like a matchbox.

Seven.  The smoking fizzled and hissed in the rain.  The body was brought out in a box.
Jack and Timmy swore up and down they didn't know why she was in there, and they felt cold fingers on their necks.  At home, their rooms were trashed, mirrors shattered, and written on the walls was the message.

And nothing was ever the same again after that.