"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.

"Untitled" by Ben Read

Artist: Leonardo da Vinci

Some people swore that the house was haunted.  I know the truth.  I went in only on a dare from my best friend, Ty.  It was dark, and rain battered the house.  Why did I have to choose this night? I remember thinking as I climbed the creaky staircase, the carpeting rotting away under my feet.  As I came to the top floor, I heard a whimpering.  I was tempted to turn and run, but my curiosity was stronger than my fear.  My hand shook as I reached for the doorknob and turned it.  I entered the room and noticed a dark shape quivering in the corner.  As I approached, I saw the outine of a cat, curled up fast asleep.  I took another step forward and the floorboards groaned beneath my weight.  The cat jumped to its feet and in the moonlight, I saw the creature was little more than skin and bones.  Something drew me to him, maybe it was the haunting look he gave me, a look of sorrow and hopelessness.  I put my hand down, and the cat came to sniff it, but when I tried to stroke him, he ran under the bed.  I made a vow to myself that night to take X into my care.  I came back every day after school, until he let me stroke him and eventually I took him home.

When I returned, Ty greeted me with an expectant, "Well?

"It's haunted," I lied, trying to sound as convincing as possible.

I never told anyone about that night; it didn't seem like something to be told.  Whenever someone asked where I got my cat, I said I found him in the alley.

But I always remembered.  And nothing was ever the same again after that.