Archived Story

Words to live by

Front row from left are Kevin Rouse, Eamon Thomasson and Hokan Holmquist. The back row from the left are: Caroline Simms, instructor, Alice Amundson, Chelsea Lipscomb, Anna Fruechte, Erin Meagher, Stephanie Schell, Tessa Nobles and Maria Greer.
Photo courtesy Caroline Simms
For two weeks during the heat of the summer, 11 young writers between the ages of 12 and 15 gathered in a classroom on the University of Montana campus to practice their art. They enrolled in the Montana Writing Project's Young Writers Camp because they have the talent and passion for writing poetry, stories and even novels. With the help of instructor Caroline Simms, they focused on developing characters, creating dialogue, vivid settings and images. These young authors showed their commitment to their craft by working hard both at camp and at home on developing their skills. They showcased their poetry and fiction in their own anthology as well as at a public reading held in a university hall at the end of the camp. The samples on this page include autobiographical poems and excerpts from various pieces of fiction and represent just a taste of these students' rich talents.

Short story

Who Knew?
Hailey climbed onto the Springbook Bus number eight with a glum look on her face. She loathed public transportation and hated every minute she wasted her time in the smelly and somewhat bunchy grey wool seats. She showed the bus conductor her purple bus pass and then placed it and her fair skinned hand in her pocket. She turned and her brown eyes scanned the available seats. “Crap!” she thought. The only seats open was one with this old, fat guy and another with a weird punky girl. “Well, that girl only looks a year older than me. How bad can she be?” she thought.

She made her way towards the seat and plunked herself down, shoving her brown corduroy book bag between her feet. “Hey,” said the punky girl. She was wearing a black T-shirt with large hot pink, lime green, and aquamarine polka dots splashed across it. On her legs, she wore black tights and a black cotton mini. She also wore hot pink high tops on her feet, which rested on the head of the seat in front. “Hi,” said Hailey edgily. She hated talking to strangers. They always made her so nervous and uptight.

“Name's Sam,” said the girl and her green eyes twinkled with amusement at Hailey's icy stare. She tucked a long black strand behind her ear and raised her slender arms and stretched. “Hailey,” and she held out a hand. Sam ignored it and looked out the misty, rain splashed window. Hailey dropped her hand, now thoroughly wishing she had sat with the old gasbag. “So, you go to school, right?” Sam asked, looking at the backpack. “Yeah, Springbook High.” “Me too.”

Yes, now Hailey remembered Sam. She was a sophomore and hung out with all the alternatives. “So - ,” Hailey said awkwardly. “So - what?” replied Sam. She grabbed out a black iPod and began flipping through songs while putting her ear phones in place. Hailey was boiling. “How rude to listen to music rather than carry on a conversation with the person sitting next to you. Just ignoring them,” Hailey thought. She gave Sam a steely glare. “What's your damage?” Sam asked. “You!” answered Halley loudly. “Me? What have I done to you?” replied Sam, her tone getting icy “Um, let's think,” started Hailey sarcastically, “Well first you completely ignore me and then you were just down right rude.”

“Excuse me? You're the one acting like I'm all beneath you, giving me little glares and treating me like I'm some freak! I don't see you putting much effort into getting to know me,” Sam spoke apparent anger in her voice. “Just because I don't do the whole formal crap doesn't mean I'm being rude. If anyone needs to learn some manners, it's you.” Hailey not only turned red from anger, but also embarrassment because every word Sam had said was true. “How can I expect someone to be polite to me when I won't show them the same courtesy?” she thought. “You're right,” Hailey finally said. “What?” asked Sam, surprised.

“I said, you're right; I shouldn't have judged you just by how you look and everything. Want to start over?” Hailey asked with a slight smile on her face. “Sure. I'm Sam.” “Hailey,” and they shook hands warmly. Both thought, “Who knew?”

TESSA NOBLES, 14, Big Sky High School

Poetry



The Writer

At his desk, yet far from home

Will the writer ever roam

Paper ready, pen poised

The writer weaves with the colors he enjoys

Perhaps a tale of the murky past

Or a bright future, either way it will last

For the reader shall read

The writer's deed

And the reader's mind

Will ever bind

The memory of that tale

So the writer may never fail

HOKAN HOLMQUIST, 15, Frenchtown High School

Heat

Nothing moves.

The lawn looks like a picture.

Everything is absolutely still.

A musty smell hangs in the air.

The heat gives everything a yellow tint.

There is no breeze

to save me from this hot slumber.

My cat lets out a long silver cry for help,

that breaks the deadly silence,

the deadly stillness.

It's not even July

yet it appears

that the dog days of summer

are already here.

ALICE AMUNDSON, 13, Sussex School

I Am Poetry

I Am From Sunshine, Grass And Trees

I am from the garden in the backyard,

The tree fort standing in it, firmly planted.

Raspberries soaking up sun and getting ripe.

I am from the school playground,

Running around with Ida, Christianne, and Lydia,

Playing pretend, dressed up as princesses.

I am from glue sticks and scissors,

Making pictures with colorful shapes.

Protractors and calculators,

Taking hard tests in math.

I am from the sweet aroma of the decorated tree,

Standing tall in the living room on Christmas morning,

Surrounded by mounds of wrapped boxes and bows.

I am from the sadness of moving away,

Leaving the friends that I've known for so long,

From the happiness of finding new ones.

I am from a place across the ocean with green rolling hills,

Where my grandparents and their grandparents lived.

I am from sunshine, grass, and trees,

Taking long hikes in the mountains,

Following alongside the stumbling creek.

I am from my parents, grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles.

I am from love, happiness and joy.

ANNA FRUECHTE, 13, Meadow Hill Middle School

ANNA FRUECHTE


From Me
--------------------------------
I am from the singing waters

From the mixture of drumbeats

Scattering, melding with our heartstrings

Singing the song of the winters we meet.

I am from the chords,

Those that should not be played but play upon you,

Taking your arms as instruments to release their own brilliance.

I am from the waves hitting the rocks,

From days spent jumping off the dock,

Floating without fear of all your fights past fought.

I am from the powder as it leaves the barrel,

The sound of its escaping,

Sounds of a bullet racing.

I am from Grace and Kitty,

With them and April I bloom,

As the bugs begin to go by.

I am from the dusk and dawn,

As the colors slowly morph,

Flowing, following into my ready brush

Stroking across the blank page.

I am from delirium,

A crazed closeness almost no one finds.

From being lost within my own mind

And seeing the loneliness inside.

I am from the whispers of tomorrow on the tongues of forever,

From the waiting for things to get better,

And the hoping they never change.

I am from the willows,

Where the owls hoot,

Listening with everything as the wind blows through.

I am from the time we are here until the time we are gone

From the joys of being, simply seeing

While we wait for death to take us

From after and all that is left of us,

are the strings of our memories following behind.

I am from the freaks,

The cameraderi born from being original.

From those who refuses to fill a mold.

Who think about wondering why.

I am the quiet

As the stars get close

Hearing the wolves howl

As the moon turns round.

CHELSEA LIPSCOMB, 14, Ronan High School

CHELSEA LIPSCOMB

---------
I Am From A History Book

I am from my history book

Pages speaking of eras

My ancestors struggled through.

I am from corn

Husking away each green leaf

To find a hidden treasure.

I am from the ticking of my watch

The warbling of the now ancient singers

Of the music my parents seem to love.

I am from did-you-hear?

And ‘she-did-this'

And ‘don't-tell-her-I-said.'

I am from the silence

That is no longer quiet with the bubbling of creeks and laughter

As I push a screaming friend into the water.

I am from sleepovers

Passing popcorn and truth-and-dare

And giggles into the night.

I am from generations before me

Who lived and died

To make me who I am today.

MARIA GREER, 13, Hellgate Middle School



I am from watermelon and hot wings,

Backyard campfires and late night movie marathons,

I am from camping trips and day hikes

Holland Lake and Cedar Creek

I am from old black and white Westerns,

And Johnny Cash,

I am from pecan pie and no bake cookies

Thanksgiving at Grandma's and Easter at home

I am from back to school shopping, and trips to Colorado,

I am from tours of the campus,

and the UM Bookstore

Soccer camps, and tennis lessons,

And Kids ‘n' Action camps

I am from Denver,

and Missoula,

I am from Cali and Blazer

I am from Superior, Montana,

And A River Runs Through It,

I am from the Clark Fork, and Big Eddy

I am from family golfing, and fishing with my dad,

I am from the brookies, and the rainbows,

I am from the squaw fish that lay dead on the rocks

I am from the salmon flies, and the blue damsels

I am from the rodeo, and the cows

I am from the fair, and my 4-H friends,

I am from the lemonade, and the ice tea,

I am from Big Tom, and newborn bunnies,

I am from the small town pool and the small town people

Who are friends, and my family.

KELSEY RAY,14, Superior High School

I Am From

I am from rebels with a strong cause,

Screams and shouts of “Erin go Braugh”

“Cead Mile Failte” I shout with joy!

I am from potatoes and whiskey.

Corned beef and cabbage is what I like.

From bayonets to mousers we fight with pride.

From Murray to Maher I know who I am.

I am from Gomersall castle proud and true,

waters deep and blue.

“Sweet Lady Liberty! I see her near.”

I am safe and sound; I have a home here and now.

I am from freedom's resounding ring.

No more fighting, we've won, it's through.

The Emerald Isle will live long and safe.

May the green, white, and orange live forever in hearts of her people.

ERIN MEAGHER (MAHER), 13, Valley Christian School



I am from the steadily flowing rain,

The geography lessons,

And half finished chess games.

I am from rolling down the freshly mowed hill,

And long bike rides on the dusty gravel

From chasing shining butterflies.

I am from digging for buried treasure in the backyard,

From bookmarks lost,

I am from short pencils.

I am from juicy green sweet pears,

From attempts at climbing the ancient maple

I am from playing fetch with eager dogs.

I'm from “Sorry, I forgot,”

From “Oh, why not,”

And “Practice, practice, practice!”

I am from riding rickety wagons down the driveway,

From three hour trips to the library,

Falling asleep, a book in my hand.

I am from secret hide-outs in shady bushes,

From fallen branches that become glinting blades,

I am from the steadily flowing rain.

EAMON THOMASSON, 12, Frenchtown Middle School

MARIO KART AND KURT WARNER

I am from

Not answers, but rather

Questions.

I am from

“Shut up!” and “I love you.”

I am from

“How was school?” and “Get back here!”

I am from

Toy guns and monopoly sessions.

I am from

Mario Kart and the Internet.

I am from

Badly written acrostics and stupid action movies.

I am from

Masterpiece novels and ancient philosophy texts.

I am from

Multiplication tables and two-hundred-word book reports.

I am from

Radioactive decay and debate theory.

I am from

The Prophet Muhammad and Alexander Graham Bell.

I am from

Kurt Warner, who is no longer very good.

I am from

The corner room on the ground floor.

I am from

A war halfway around the globe.

I am from

Watching the world change.

I am from

Wondering if it will be for the better.

KEVIN ROUSE, 15, Hellgate High School

I Am From

I am from Harry Potter and Inkheart,

Their characters dancing in my head,

Beckoning me to come with them to their world.

I am from warm baked chicken and thick beef stew,

Cutting fresh carrot and celery,

Loving the smell of stewing beef that made my mouth water.

I am from “Get out of my room now!”

And “Let me sleep just a little longer.”

I am from sparkling, glittering earrings and stylish sunglasses,

Loving different colors and fashions

I am from watching movies all day when it's snowing heavily

And every once in a while flicking my wandering eyes

To the powder white flakes.

I am from “The bus, the bus! Hurry!”

And “Wake up or I'll get the water!”

I am from overexcited dogs, purring, fat cats,

Bold horses and crowing roosters.

I am from frothy mugs of hot chocolate for cold and bitter winters and

Fruity smoothies during the scorching hot summers.

I am from the fun created by people I love with all my heart.

STEPHANIE SCHELL,13, Frenchtown Middle School
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