2021 Writing Contest Winners
Student Prose
First Place: Mister Perpetual
Colby Allen
I am not perfect. I am, however, all these low-life, vile, wretched so called people have. All they ever do is lie, steal, betray, and deceive their own kin. And for what purpose? To try to survive such a harsh world? To try to stall the inevitable end of what would be their tragic demise? Humans will never understand the comfort and sweet embrace that death has over their entire lives. The great fear of dying either brings humans to desperation, or corrodes their mind in cowardice. Oh, times are too rough right now? Debt is piling up with no hope to ever pay it? Hell, your dog just got run over by a car flying down 4th Avenue? Let me just die and be over with the pain. It’s very reassuring to think about death, all of mankind's one true goal, the light at the end of the tunnel. Of course all you creatures just take death for granted, it disgusts me. Today marks the 30th anniversary of my wife's passing from this mortal plane. Old age, always a silent killer, I just woke up one day from my false slumber and saw her lying there, as if she was a mannequin with every ounce of life that could’ve been there, just gone. Although, at the time I didn’t look at death the same way so I was not quick to think she was lucky or what have you. She was just two weeks shy of her 101st birthday. It was a tragedy, a real doozy I'd say. But surely as death continues, life always goes on... and on... and on... with no sign of stopping, forever.
It’s a scientific anomaly, all the way down to the atomic level. After I turned 25 I have not aged a single day. Scientists speculate it’s because that is the age when humans' natural life expectancy ends and the body starts slowly deteriorating. I have no need for oxygen. Food and drink is not required to sustain me but I will consume both on an almost regular basis. My internal body temperature is always 212 degrees Fahrenheit, my heart pumps at 10 beats per minute. I have never felt fatigued, and there is no way on god's green earth I can be physically harmed.
When the world first discovered me, the man who could never die, it was somewhere around World War II. I was almost immediately enlisted in the United States Army, 92nd infantry division, AKA the Bronze Bombers and I became a national hero. A poster boy for death and destruction. They would call me America's bravest defender, the Iron Soldier, an angel straight from god himself. But their favorite term by far was superhero. Even though all they would do throughout the war was get some duct tape and strap one or maybe two anti-personnel mines and any extra pieces of scrap metal that our division had lying around to my person. I would just run into enemy trenches and beat on my chest like a silverback and then, boom. Such a simple tactic, yet so effective at ending human life. There wasn’t a need to waste government money on clothes or weapons just to have me ultimately blow it all away. So there I was, a naked suicide bomber, who would run into enemy lines and self destruct, just to run back and do it all over again. I was no better than those pilots that made us inherit this war in the first place. That isn't what you would call “super” or “heroic” is it? Very ironic how the minds of men work.
In the act of trying to increase war fervor and boost sales for victory bonds, our government issued the publication of little books titled Ballgame Comics. They were filled with imagery of a very stout, handsome man dawning a cape of the American flag, taking down fascists on all fronts of the war. The man they were romanticizing was me, single handedly tearing apart the 3rd Reich and the God Emperor of Japan. All while they sold their little comic books for ten cents a pop. Admittedly, it was an ingenious idea and if you kept those comics to this day they would be worth around a quarter of a million dollars. Not that money, or any other material possessions will matter in due time.
After the war I came back as a national hero and a celebrity of sorts. I had Hollywood studios offering me lead roles in films about the war. Publishers asked me, no, begged me to write a book about my life story. Local smoke shops had lines out the door of children itching to get a book with my face in it. Of course my younger self would indulge a little bit on all the fame and praise I was receiving, as anyone would if they were in the same situation. As much as I loved the attention, as I grew older, more reclusive, I found myself despising it. It felt as if I was the only animal at the zoo, every eye was fixated on you, people would do anything to see you, anything to make you acknowledge their presence, and it was defeating. In an attempt to reconnect with my humanity, I left. I took all my earnings, found a wife, and bought a homestead right across the street from the middle of nowhere. I lived a fairly average life during this time. I was content with what I had and I would live the following years in happiness. I felt almost human. My sudden disappearance however, did not go so well with the public. Headlines read, “America's Defender Dead?!,” “Hero Turned Russian Spy?,” and “Where is the World's Only Superhero?” Cults began forming around the idea that I was supposedly the second coming of Jesus, and the rapture would soon be upon us. They called themselves the Sons of Saint Paul. A superstitious group of “The end is nigh brothers! Repent! Repent and ye be saved!”–type of fellas turned terrorist organization. I was never really religious. Their superstitions of impending doom would pay off years later however because of today.
Today is not only the anniversary of my wife’s death, but it shall also be the day of my death as well. For on this day, a year ago science made its last discovery it would ever make. An asteroid, as big as Mars, coming at lightyear speed in a direct collision course for earth, with nothing being able to stop it. This day might be the only day that all of humanity stood still. People across the world, huddled with their families, waiting for the inevitable. As the end times approached, I couldn’t have been more thrilled. Finally, death would come to me, I lived a peaceful life the last couple years and now it was finally paying off. My thirst finally quenched, my only hunger finally fulfilled. There was no way that I would survive what mother earth could not. As I stood alongside the world I couldn’t help but cry tears of pure joy. I could see it now, here it comes, my escape from life. “Yes!” I cried out, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” I screamed as if I wanted the great ball of fire to hear me. If there is a god out there may he grant me death not in retribution, but rather as compensation for this life he has given me. Here it is, the sun is completely blocked out by the sheer size of it. Everything is pitch black, it is my time, this is the end for me, this is the light at the end of the tunnel. Boom.
Complete and utter blackness turned into a blinding, piercing light as I thought to myself, “it worked, it really worked, I’m dead! This is death!” Triumph soon turned to disturbance as I realized, shouldn’t I hear trumpets at the gates of heaven? Or the giggles of pure virgins ripe for the picking? I opened my eyes to find not the pearly gates of heaven, but the dark and silent abyss that is space, with chunks of earth flying around me. I was not dead. I survived. I lived. As I lay floating in space, what you would think would be complete despair and the destruction of my spirit, was in all reality, enlightenment and omnipotence. Maybe I always felt distant from all other humans for a reason and maybe all those lunatic cultists were right. I am the second coming, I am the rapture, I am the sweet embrace of death, I am all-powerful, I am never changing, I am everything humanity was never meant to be, I am perfect.
It’s a scientific anomaly, all the way down to the atomic level. After I turned 25 I have not aged a single day. Scientists speculate it’s because that is the age when humans' natural life expectancy ends and the body starts slowly deteriorating. I have no need for oxygen. Food and drink is not required to sustain me but I will consume both on an almost regular basis. My internal body temperature is always 212 degrees Fahrenheit, my heart pumps at 10 beats per minute. I have never felt fatigued, and there is no way on god's green earth I can be physically harmed.
When the world first discovered me, the man who could never die, it was somewhere around World War II. I was almost immediately enlisted in the United States Army, 92nd infantry division, AKA the Bronze Bombers and I became a national hero. A poster boy for death and destruction. They would call me America's bravest defender, the Iron Soldier, an angel straight from god himself. But their favorite term by far was superhero. Even though all they would do throughout the war was get some duct tape and strap one or maybe two anti-personnel mines and any extra pieces of scrap metal that our division had lying around to my person. I would just run into enemy trenches and beat on my chest like a silverback and then, boom. Such a simple tactic, yet so effective at ending human life. There wasn’t a need to waste government money on clothes or weapons just to have me ultimately blow it all away. So there I was, a naked suicide bomber, who would run into enemy lines and self destruct, just to run back and do it all over again. I was no better than those pilots that made us inherit this war in the first place. That isn't what you would call “super” or “heroic” is it? Very ironic how the minds of men work.
In the act of trying to increase war fervor and boost sales for victory bonds, our government issued the publication of little books titled Ballgame Comics. They were filled with imagery of a very stout, handsome man dawning a cape of the American flag, taking down fascists on all fronts of the war. The man they were romanticizing was me, single handedly tearing apart the 3rd Reich and the God Emperor of Japan. All while they sold their little comic books for ten cents a pop. Admittedly, it was an ingenious idea and if you kept those comics to this day they would be worth around a quarter of a million dollars. Not that money, or any other material possessions will matter in due time.
After the war I came back as a national hero and a celebrity of sorts. I had Hollywood studios offering me lead roles in films about the war. Publishers asked me, no, begged me to write a book about my life story. Local smoke shops had lines out the door of children itching to get a book with my face in it. Of course my younger self would indulge a little bit on all the fame and praise I was receiving, as anyone would if they were in the same situation. As much as I loved the attention, as I grew older, more reclusive, I found myself despising it. It felt as if I was the only animal at the zoo, every eye was fixated on you, people would do anything to see you, anything to make you acknowledge their presence, and it was defeating. In an attempt to reconnect with my humanity, I left. I took all my earnings, found a wife, and bought a homestead right across the street from the middle of nowhere. I lived a fairly average life during this time. I was content with what I had and I would live the following years in happiness. I felt almost human. My sudden disappearance however, did not go so well with the public. Headlines read, “America's Defender Dead?!,” “Hero Turned Russian Spy?,” and “Where is the World's Only Superhero?” Cults began forming around the idea that I was supposedly the second coming of Jesus, and the rapture would soon be upon us. They called themselves the Sons of Saint Paul. A superstitious group of “The end is nigh brothers! Repent! Repent and ye be saved!”–type of fellas turned terrorist organization. I was never really religious. Their superstitions of impending doom would pay off years later however because of today.
Today is not only the anniversary of my wife’s death, but it shall also be the day of my death as well. For on this day, a year ago science made its last discovery it would ever make. An asteroid, as big as Mars, coming at lightyear speed in a direct collision course for earth, with nothing being able to stop it. This day might be the only day that all of humanity stood still. People across the world, huddled with their families, waiting for the inevitable. As the end times approached, I couldn’t have been more thrilled. Finally, death would come to me, I lived a peaceful life the last couple years and now it was finally paying off. My thirst finally quenched, my only hunger finally fulfilled. There was no way that I would survive what mother earth could not. As I stood alongside the world I couldn’t help but cry tears of pure joy. I could see it now, here it comes, my escape from life. “Yes!” I cried out, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” I screamed as if I wanted the great ball of fire to hear me. If there is a god out there may he grant me death not in retribution, but rather as compensation for this life he has given me. Here it is, the sun is completely blocked out by the sheer size of it. Everything is pitch black, it is my time, this is the end for me, this is the light at the end of the tunnel. Boom.
Complete and utter blackness turned into a blinding, piercing light as I thought to myself, “it worked, it really worked, I’m dead! This is death!” Triumph soon turned to disturbance as I realized, shouldn’t I hear trumpets at the gates of heaven? Or the giggles of pure virgins ripe for the picking? I opened my eyes to find not the pearly gates of heaven, but the dark and silent abyss that is space, with chunks of earth flying around me. I was not dead. I survived. I lived. As I lay floating in space, what you would think would be complete despair and the destruction of my spirit, was in all reality, enlightenment and omnipotence. Maybe I always felt distant from all other humans for a reason and maybe all those lunatic cultists were right. I am the second coming, I am the rapture, I am the sweet embrace of death, I am all-powerful, I am never changing, I am everything humanity was never meant to be, I am perfect.
Second Place: Missing
Neha Jain
I was rushing back to my new boss, coffee in hand, when I saw a group of people surrounding a newsstand that normally gets little to no attention. I pushed my way through the crowd and saw a familiar face on a poster, which read ‘MISSING’ in bold letters.
“Jennifer,” A woman of obscenely tall build approached me. She was holding a designer handbag on one arm and a clipboard, which held my first-week evaluation, in the other. She wrote something on it and scowled. “I don’t pay you to stand around reading flyers!”
“Yes, Ms. Davenport,” My voice was high-pitched. “I have your latte right here!”
I handed it to her and watched her stern face with anticipation. She took a small, dainty sip before spitting it out angrily. She wiped her mouth clean of coffee dribble.
“Ugh! It’s COLD,” she exclaimed before tossing the paper cup into the street. A taxi rolled backwards over it, and the rain picked up heavily. I cringed before scurrying into the brick building after her.
All the while, my mind was on the poster. Acacia Sinclair was hard not to think about even when she wasn’t missing. She was my best friend, but she was also the most dramatic person I knew. It was then that I realized: Could Acacia have set this up as a publicity stunt? Could she have faked going missing and just sat at home, sipping chamomile tea and flipping through the news articles that were written about her? It sounded like something she’d do.
Guilt consumed me almost instantaneously. My best friend was missing and all I could do was question if it was fake. I suddenly felt terrible.
The rest of the workday was full of mistakes like the coffee incident in the morning. Ms. Davenport was on her last leg with me and I knew I was probably going to be fired. After work, I went straight home. I sat in my living room dejected before my mind drifted to Acacia again. I decided to visit her. She always knew how to cheer me up. If the news wasn’t true, I could use her help. If it was true, then I hoped that I could find clues about her disappearance. Maybe something the clumsy police in this town had missed.
On the drive over, I became more certain that she had faked it all. When I arrived at her front door, I knocked twice. I stood there for about thirty seconds before grabbing the key she hid in the plant by the door. The old floorboards creaked beneath me. I unlocked the door and pushed it open, ready to see Acacia either dead in her living room or lounging on the couch with a cup of tea sitting on the table beside her.
To my surprise, she wasn’t there at all. I decided to walk inside and check her house more thoroughly, but she was nowhere to be found.
I felt like a detective looking for clues. I found her day planner in her bedroom and flipped through it to last night. She was supposed to meet up with me. I didn’t see her last night though. There were no other events written. I sat there, clueless of her whereabouts. Where could she be hiding? Where did she go last night?
I decided to talk to the police. Though lazy, they were also quite loose-lipped. Perhaps, they’d tell me something. I made my way into the station, which was conveniently a few streets away from Acacia’s place. It was a nice ten-minute walk that helped to clear my head.
“Hi! I was wondering if you knew anything about the Acacia Sinclair case yet? I also have some useful information, but I need to know if it’s relevant first.”
“We don’t know nothing,” the cop at the desk said.
“Oh, thanks anyway!” I had turned around, ready to walk out.
“What’s your useful information?” he scratched his head. “Withholding information is persecutable.” I stopped myself from correcting him; the correct word was prosecutable.
“Well, she wrote that she was supposed to meet with me in her day planner,” I answered, pulling the leather book out of my purse. “But she never talked to me about said meet-up.”
Another cop whispered something to him, but I couldn’t hear.
“So, you’re Jennifer Doyle?” His voice was accusatory, but I had no idea why.
“Yes, why?”
“You’re under arrest for the kidnapping of Acacia Sinclair,” he proceeded to read me my Miranda Rights.
“Wait, what?” I was confused. My heart was pounding, oozing with anxiety. Did they think that I had hurt Acacia? “I’m innocent!”
I was allowed one phone call. I decided to call Ms. Davenport to let her know what happened and that I wasn’t coming back to work until everything was sorted out.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Davenport!”
“Why are you calling me from this number?”
“Funny story actually, so you know Acacia Sinclair, right? Well, she went missing and I’m in jail for it. I’m innocent though. I swear it.”
“You kidnapped her. You also refused to let her go when the police asked. Jennifer, you do know that all phone calls in my building are recorded, right? Just bring the girl back. Don’t hurt her, just bring her back and you’ll be better off for it.”
“What?” I asked dumbfounded.
“Goodbye, Jennifer,” she said. “Oh! I almost forgot to tell you, you’re fired.”
After my phone call, the cop took me into the back of the station and threw me into my own cell, locking it with four different locks. I crawled into a corner of the dark room.
“This one’s too dangerous to stay with the rest of ‘em, so you better keep an eye on her,” he told the guard, pointing at me. “We’ll interrogate her after lunch.”
***
Why am I here? Oh yeah, I kidnapped Acacia Sinclair and tried to get some ransom out of the police department. Of course Jennifer messed up my plan. Why does she butt in so much? At least she’s letting me take control now. I felt a smile crawl over my cheeks. The guard turned around to look at me. When he saw my face he shivered, but that just made me smile more.
“Jennifer Doyle,” the intercom spoke. A buzzer followed and the door to my cell opened.
I didn’t move from my corner.
“Jennifer Doyle,” the voice called again, growing impatient.
The cop guarding my cell walked in and manhandled me into an interrogation room. My public defender was there waiting. A detective stood on the other side of the table.
“I’m not Jennifer,” I declared.
“Hello Jennifer,” he seemed to be mocking me. I glared at him. “I’m Detective Johnson.”
“My name is Dahlia Cyprus.”
“You said your name was Jennifer Doyle at the front desk,” he stated, as if there was no question about it now. I looked up at him and blinked.
“That wasn’t me.”
“How is that possible?”
“What are you doing Jennifer?” My public defender whispered to me.
“I’m not Jennifer!” I screamed. I was angry. “Why does everyone think that? Even Acacia did, so I silenced her. I never want to hear that name again! My name is Dahlia.”
“What do you mean by silenced?” Detective Johnson asked.
“I shut her up.”
“How so?”
“Gagged her, tied her up, and then I threw her in the back of my pick-up truck. I took her to my bunker in the woods, and I’ll only give you her exact location if I am let go and rewarded with $50,000 cash. Comply or she will rot.”
“Is that a confession?”
“Yes,” I spoke proudly. Detective Johnson stepped out of the room.
“Um, Jennifer- I mean, Dahlia?” My public defender stuttered.
“Yes?” I raised my eyebrows, looking at him expectantly.
“Do you know Jennifer?”
“All I know is that she got me into this,” I said plainly.
“So why did you confess if Jennifer committed the crime? Are you… Jennifer?”
“No! I am Dahlia,” I was reaching my last nerve now, but before I could act the door slammed open. Detective Johnson was back, followed by a male nurse of some sort.
“Hello Dahlia!” the nurse said cheerfully. I internally vomited at his enthusiasm. “I’m a psychiatrist. My name is Dr. Roberts.”
“I’m not crazy or anything.”
“Do you know Jennifer Doyle by chance? I was looking for her,” Dr. Roberts asked.
“I mean,” I had to think for a second. “I know of her. I always get mixed up for her.”
“On record, we have you down as Jennifer Doyle.”
“She’s not here, and she won’t be anytime soon,” I rolled my eyes.
“How come?”
“She’s missing too.”
“Jennifer,” A woman of obscenely tall build approached me. She was holding a designer handbag on one arm and a clipboard, which held my first-week evaluation, in the other. She wrote something on it and scowled. “I don’t pay you to stand around reading flyers!”
“Yes, Ms. Davenport,” My voice was high-pitched. “I have your latte right here!”
I handed it to her and watched her stern face with anticipation. She took a small, dainty sip before spitting it out angrily. She wiped her mouth clean of coffee dribble.
“Ugh! It’s COLD,” she exclaimed before tossing the paper cup into the street. A taxi rolled backwards over it, and the rain picked up heavily. I cringed before scurrying into the brick building after her.
All the while, my mind was on the poster. Acacia Sinclair was hard not to think about even when she wasn’t missing. She was my best friend, but she was also the most dramatic person I knew. It was then that I realized: Could Acacia have set this up as a publicity stunt? Could she have faked going missing and just sat at home, sipping chamomile tea and flipping through the news articles that were written about her? It sounded like something she’d do.
Guilt consumed me almost instantaneously. My best friend was missing and all I could do was question if it was fake. I suddenly felt terrible.
The rest of the workday was full of mistakes like the coffee incident in the morning. Ms. Davenport was on her last leg with me and I knew I was probably going to be fired. After work, I went straight home. I sat in my living room dejected before my mind drifted to Acacia again. I decided to visit her. She always knew how to cheer me up. If the news wasn’t true, I could use her help. If it was true, then I hoped that I could find clues about her disappearance. Maybe something the clumsy police in this town had missed.
On the drive over, I became more certain that she had faked it all. When I arrived at her front door, I knocked twice. I stood there for about thirty seconds before grabbing the key she hid in the plant by the door. The old floorboards creaked beneath me. I unlocked the door and pushed it open, ready to see Acacia either dead in her living room or lounging on the couch with a cup of tea sitting on the table beside her.
To my surprise, she wasn’t there at all. I decided to walk inside and check her house more thoroughly, but she was nowhere to be found.
I felt like a detective looking for clues. I found her day planner in her bedroom and flipped through it to last night. She was supposed to meet up with me. I didn’t see her last night though. There were no other events written. I sat there, clueless of her whereabouts. Where could she be hiding? Where did she go last night?
I decided to talk to the police. Though lazy, they were also quite loose-lipped. Perhaps, they’d tell me something. I made my way into the station, which was conveniently a few streets away from Acacia’s place. It was a nice ten-minute walk that helped to clear my head.
“Hi! I was wondering if you knew anything about the Acacia Sinclair case yet? I also have some useful information, but I need to know if it’s relevant first.”
“We don’t know nothing,” the cop at the desk said.
“Oh, thanks anyway!” I had turned around, ready to walk out.
“What’s your useful information?” he scratched his head. “Withholding information is persecutable.” I stopped myself from correcting him; the correct word was prosecutable.
“Well, she wrote that she was supposed to meet with me in her day planner,” I answered, pulling the leather book out of my purse. “But she never talked to me about said meet-up.”
Another cop whispered something to him, but I couldn’t hear.
“So, you’re Jennifer Doyle?” His voice was accusatory, but I had no idea why.
“Yes, why?”
“You’re under arrest for the kidnapping of Acacia Sinclair,” he proceeded to read me my Miranda Rights.
“Wait, what?” I was confused. My heart was pounding, oozing with anxiety. Did they think that I had hurt Acacia? “I’m innocent!”
I was allowed one phone call. I decided to call Ms. Davenport to let her know what happened and that I wasn’t coming back to work until everything was sorted out.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Davenport!”
“Why are you calling me from this number?”
“Funny story actually, so you know Acacia Sinclair, right? Well, she went missing and I’m in jail for it. I’m innocent though. I swear it.”
“You kidnapped her. You also refused to let her go when the police asked. Jennifer, you do know that all phone calls in my building are recorded, right? Just bring the girl back. Don’t hurt her, just bring her back and you’ll be better off for it.”
“What?” I asked dumbfounded.
“Goodbye, Jennifer,” she said. “Oh! I almost forgot to tell you, you’re fired.”
After my phone call, the cop took me into the back of the station and threw me into my own cell, locking it with four different locks. I crawled into a corner of the dark room.
“This one’s too dangerous to stay with the rest of ‘em, so you better keep an eye on her,” he told the guard, pointing at me. “We’ll interrogate her after lunch.”
***
Why am I here? Oh yeah, I kidnapped Acacia Sinclair and tried to get some ransom out of the police department. Of course Jennifer messed up my plan. Why does she butt in so much? At least she’s letting me take control now. I felt a smile crawl over my cheeks. The guard turned around to look at me. When he saw my face he shivered, but that just made me smile more.
“Jennifer Doyle,” the intercom spoke. A buzzer followed and the door to my cell opened.
I didn’t move from my corner.
“Jennifer Doyle,” the voice called again, growing impatient.
The cop guarding my cell walked in and manhandled me into an interrogation room. My public defender was there waiting. A detective stood on the other side of the table.
“I’m not Jennifer,” I declared.
“Hello Jennifer,” he seemed to be mocking me. I glared at him. “I’m Detective Johnson.”
“My name is Dahlia Cyprus.”
“You said your name was Jennifer Doyle at the front desk,” he stated, as if there was no question about it now. I looked up at him and blinked.
“That wasn’t me.”
“How is that possible?”
“What are you doing Jennifer?” My public defender whispered to me.
“I’m not Jennifer!” I screamed. I was angry. “Why does everyone think that? Even Acacia did, so I silenced her. I never want to hear that name again! My name is Dahlia.”
“What do you mean by silenced?” Detective Johnson asked.
“I shut her up.”
“How so?”
“Gagged her, tied her up, and then I threw her in the back of my pick-up truck. I took her to my bunker in the woods, and I’ll only give you her exact location if I am let go and rewarded with $50,000 cash. Comply or she will rot.”
“Is that a confession?”
“Yes,” I spoke proudly. Detective Johnson stepped out of the room.
“Um, Jennifer- I mean, Dahlia?” My public defender stuttered.
“Yes?” I raised my eyebrows, looking at him expectantly.
“Do you know Jennifer?”
“All I know is that she got me into this,” I said plainly.
“So why did you confess if Jennifer committed the crime? Are you… Jennifer?”
“No! I am Dahlia,” I was reaching my last nerve now, but before I could act the door slammed open. Detective Johnson was back, followed by a male nurse of some sort.
“Hello Dahlia!” the nurse said cheerfully. I internally vomited at his enthusiasm. “I’m a psychiatrist. My name is Dr. Roberts.”
“I’m not crazy or anything.”
“Do you know Jennifer Doyle by chance? I was looking for her,” Dr. Roberts asked.
“I mean,” I had to think for a second. “I know of her. I always get mixed up for her.”
“On record, we have you down as Jennifer Doyle.”
“She’s not here, and she won’t be anytime soon,” I rolled my eyes.
“How come?”
“She’s missing too.”
Honorable Mentions
Almost Kidnapped Samson Woldemichael
About 800,000 people are kidnapped or missing each year, that makes about 2000 people per day.
Whether it is a child or a grown up if the opportunity gives, they have a chance to be kidnapped.I know that people may say that there are major issues besides kidnapping. The reason that I know that kidnapping is a crucial issue is because I’ve experienced it first hand when I was still a 12 year old boy.
I remember the times when I was still just a kid, so carefree and foolish not bothered by anything. This is because I had yet to learn about the harsh reality of the world. I would play outside all day with no worries about anything that was going on around me, only coming back home once it got dark. I remember how much I used to hate sitting at the kitchen table while my mother would try to teach me math. But can anyone really blame me? No, everyone goes through this phase just like I did. I was only a foolish kid who didn’t listen to his parents or enjoy going to school. However, all of my foolishness would soon disappear. What I experienced finally opened my eyes and showed me reality.
I still remember it like it was yesterday, a Friday during summer vacation when I lived in Germany. It was a time where most people go on vacation with their families. But this year's summer was different, my grades were terrible and I had to attend summer school with a couple of my classmates,who had also failed this year. The day was a very normal and typical day, where I would follow my usual morning routine and go to school like I always do. My teacher scolded me just like any other day, because I gazed out the window and daydreamed about playing outside
with my friends. After class we finally went to recess and I noticed my friend walking up to me. Little did I know it was to tell me something that he deemed to be very important. When he arrived at my table, I was with two of my other friends.He started by greeting us and then asked if we wanted to go to the park with him this afternoon after school was over, we obviously agreed .After school was over we went over to the park and played until it got so dark that we couldn’t see each other anymore. I didn't notice at the time, but my mom had called me several times.There were about 20 missed calls I only noticed when I was going back home and finally checked my bag.As we were leaving the park my friends and I noticed four strange men in the direction we were walking. Once they got close enough,we could see them with their hoodies and masks on. When they finally approached us we got really scared and started to back up a little.One of the four men said in a deep and scary voice,”Don’t worry we won’t hurt you, we just want to buy you guys some ice cream from the store over there”. Even though we were all still little kids we understood that we couldn’t trust these strangers and started to run deeper into the park after one of us screamed “run” at the top of his lungs.As we were running the four men started to chase after us,I was so horrified, I started to cry as I was running away. However that fear gave my body the adrenaline it needed to outrun the four men and hide by climbing the trees that were found in the park. The one advantage we had during that time was that we knew the park like the back of our hands, since we would always come there to play hide and seek.
After we climbed the trees I Immediately remembered my phone, but I did not dare make a phone call. I knew the smallest sound could attract the men towards me. I thought about all of the movies
I had watched and the scene where just before the bad guy is about to leave, the phone of the victim goes off, revealing their hiding place. So I slowly opened up my bag making no sound and then slowly took out my phone and turned it off with my shaking hands. After I was successfully able to shutdown my phone I proceeded to hide in the trees until all the men had left. In the past whenever I played hide and seek I would never hide up in the trees, because I knew that there were insects and God knows what crawling up there .However This time with no options I had to. I didn’t even notice the Spider crawling up my arm until it had reached my neck. My Normal response would be to freak out but in this situation I didn't dare to make a sound. I then tried to squish the Spider with my fingers. In which I was successful because it was too dark for the Spider to notice my fingers crashing down on him. After I had killed the Spider on my neck I continued to hide in the tree until the men had finally given up and left .Me and my friends didn’t know if the men had forsure left or not,even though we watched them move away from our location we weren’t sure. After a while of waiting we heard loud police sirens that had appeared right outside of the park and after a little more waiting we saw a couple of police officers who seemed like they were looking for us. After we saw the police officers on the ground we quickly got down and started running towards them crying like the little kids that we were. The police officers reunited us with our parents , we ran and began crying into their arms. The reason the police searched the park was because one of my classmates saw us going to the park after school. When our parents called the cops then the cops called the school. The school then called the parents of the kids who were in summer class with us. After we were reunited with our parents we proceeded to tell the cops everything that had happened to us and about the four strange men. Finally I was able to go back.
home but I wasn’t the same anymore,I was shocked by what had happened that night and I could only imagine what would’ve happened to me if I was kidnapped that night.
That night taught me a great lesson about life, you should always listen to what your parents tell you and aim for a better and brighter future. Avoiding all the hindrances on your path which may sometimes be very hard because those hindrances could be your beloved best friends.
Whether it is a child or a grown up if the opportunity gives, they have a chance to be kidnapped.I know that people may say that there are major issues besides kidnapping. The reason that I know that kidnapping is a crucial issue is because I’ve experienced it first hand when I was still a 12 year old boy.
I remember the times when I was still just a kid, so carefree and foolish not bothered by anything. This is because I had yet to learn about the harsh reality of the world. I would play outside all day with no worries about anything that was going on around me, only coming back home once it got dark. I remember how much I used to hate sitting at the kitchen table while my mother would try to teach me math. But can anyone really blame me? No, everyone goes through this phase just like I did. I was only a foolish kid who didn’t listen to his parents or enjoy going to school. However, all of my foolishness would soon disappear. What I experienced finally opened my eyes and showed me reality.
I still remember it like it was yesterday, a Friday during summer vacation when I lived in Germany. It was a time where most people go on vacation with their families. But this year's summer was different, my grades were terrible and I had to attend summer school with a couple of my classmates,who had also failed this year. The day was a very normal and typical day, where I would follow my usual morning routine and go to school like I always do. My teacher scolded me just like any other day, because I gazed out the window and daydreamed about playing outside
with my friends. After class we finally went to recess and I noticed my friend walking up to me. Little did I know it was to tell me something that he deemed to be very important. When he arrived at my table, I was with two of my other friends.He started by greeting us and then asked if we wanted to go to the park with him this afternoon after school was over, we obviously agreed .After school was over we went over to the park and played until it got so dark that we couldn’t see each other anymore. I didn't notice at the time, but my mom had called me several times.There were about 20 missed calls I only noticed when I was going back home and finally checked my bag.As we were leaving the park my friends and I noticed four strange men in the direction we were walking. Once they got close enough,we could see them with their hoodies and masks on. When they finally approached us we got really scared and started to back up a little.One of the four men said in a deep and scary voice,”Don’t worry we won’t hurt you, we just want to buy you guys some ice cream from the store over there”. Even though we were all still little kids we understood that we couldn’t trust these strangers and started to run deeper into the park after one of us screamed “run” at the top of his lungs.As we were running the four men started to chase after us,I was so horrified, I started to cry as I was running away. However that fear gave my body the adrenaline it needed to outrun the four men and hide by climbing the trees that were found in the park. The one advantage we had during that time was that we knew the park like the back of our hands, since we would always come there to play hide and seek.
After we climbed the trees I Immediately remembered my phone, but I did not dare make a phone call. I knew the smallest sound could attract the men towards me. I thought about all of the movies
I had watched and the scene where just before the bad guy is about to leave, the phone of the victim goes off, revealing their hiding place. So I slowly opened up my bag making no sound and then slowly took out my phone and turned it off with my shaking hands. After I was successfully able to shutdown my phone I proceeded to hide in the trees until all the men had left. In the past whenever I played hide and seek I would never hide up in the trees, because I knew that there were insects and God knows what crawling up there .However This time with no options I had to. I didn’t even notice the Spider crawling up my arm until it had reached my neck. My Normal response would be to freak out but in this situation I didn't dare to make a sound. I then tried to squish the Spider with my fingers. In which I was successful because it was too dark for the Spider to notice my fingers crashing down on him. After I had killed the Spider on my neck I continued to hide in the tree until the men had finally given up and left .Me and my friends didn’t know if the men had forsure left or not,even though we watched them move away from our location we weren’t sure. After a while of waiting we heard loud police sirens that had appeared right outside of the park and after a little more waiting we saw a couple of police officers who seemed like they were looking for us. After we saw the police officers on the ground we quickly got down and started running towards them crying like the little kids that we were. The police officers reunited us with our parents , we ran and began crying into their arms. The reason the police searched the park was because one of my classmates saw us going to the park after school. When our parents called the cops then the cops called the school. The school then called the parents of the kids who were in summer class with us. After we were reunited with our parents we proceeded to tell the cops everything that had happened to us and about the four strange men. Finally I was able to go back.
home but I wasn’t the same anymore,I was shocked by what had happened that night and I could only imagine what would’ve happened to me if I was kidnapped that night.
That night taught me a great lesson about life, you should always listen to what your parents tell you and aim for a better and brighter future. Avoiding all the hindrances on your path which may sometimes be very hard because those hindrances could be your beloved best friends.
End Of the Hallway Roan McAuley
The walls were blank, devoid of colorful paintings or decorations of any kind. Each door that lined the hallway was identical to the next, each one made of fine, polished hardwood. The spacious surroundings and the utter silence made every movement seem more sudden, and more likely to be heard.
“Are you sure this is the way?” Jacob asked once again in a low whisper.
“Yeah,” Amy whispered back, quickly looking behind her with a distinct feeling of nervousness. “These are just living rooms.”
“C’mon, let’s take a peek,” said Carl, raising his voice to something that sounded much louder than it should have. He edged closer to one of the doors. “There might be something good in here.”
Jacob grabbed his arm. “No,” he said under his breath. “We’re just here to get the ring, then get out. No delays. Not like last time.”
“Alright, alright,” Carl muttered, pulling his arm free and looking annoyed. “Let’s get going.”
The three continued down the hallway, and through the maze of passageways that filled the inside of the mansion. Rows of identical wooden doors. Infinite stretches of blank walls. It began to get more difficult to judge how far they’d gone, and how far they still had to go.
They took a right, then a left. Then several more turns. No matter how far they went things seemed to be, the situation didn’t seem to change in any way. The doors remained the same, as did the walls. They didn't venture into any of the rooms.
“How far until the treasure room?” Carl asked.
“It’s not the treasure room, it’s just the room…with my ring in it,” said Jacob. “If we keep following the hallway we’ll get to it.”
“Actually, we have to take a left up here,” Amy pointed out, gesturing to the fork in the path ahead of them. “And then it’s a straight shot.”
“Geez, it’s a good thing you know so much about this place,” said Carl, gazing up at the ceiling, then back behind them. “We’d have gotten lost ages ago otherwise. Besides, then you wouldn’t have come along.” He gave Amy a friendly bump with his elbow, and she shyly smiled back.
“We still could have used a map,” said Jacob. “Like you said, it’s easy to get lost in here.”
The conversation died down as suddenly as it began, and the three continued walking. More of the same doors. The color of the walls also remained unchanged. A feeling of nervousness, like damp sweat, seemed to fill all of them as they proceeded. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, yet things seemed to feel just the opposite.
“You know,” said Amy after a while, struggling to get the words out, “You could just, you know, go to a jewelry store and get some ring. I don’t get why we had to come…here.”
“Listen, that ring’s been in my family for generations,” Jacob said. “Or at least it was, until that old bastard stole it. I’m not giving up that easily.”
Minutes more passed. Despite Jacob’s confidence, he had to ask Amy directions once or twice more. It was hard to believe they were inside a building at all, and it began to feel more and more like a vast, neverending labyrinth.
“You know, it’s kind of weird,” said Carl, breaking the silence surrounding them.
Jacob stopped and turned his head around. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“If I were stinkin’ rich, I’d at least put paintings on the walls. I mean, I’d probably even buy the Mona Pisa and put it up somewhere.”
“You mean the Mona Lisa?” said Jacob, chuckling in spite of himself.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Carl replied, waving away the correction. “But you know what I mean? It all just seems kind of…off.”
“Yeah, I suppose,” said Jacob, looking up at the ceiling. “But I guess a lot of rich people are…you know, eccentric. You don’t get all that money by being like everybody else, right?” Then under his breath, he added, “You have to be a thief, too.”
“That makes sense, I guess,” said Carl, who hadn’t heard Jacob’s muttering. As the last word left his lips, everything seemed to return to a state of quietness that almost suffocated them, almost like they were underwater. All three of them had stopped walking and were standing in the middle of the hall.
“We should have made it by now,” said Amy suddenly. Everyone stopped moving. Then, after a small pause, she pointed directly ahead. “That’s the study. If your ring’s anywhere, it’s in there.”
“Well, here goes nothing.” Jacob stepped forward until he reached the door. It looked identical to every single other door they had already passed. However, behind this one was the prize they had been searching for. He turned the handle, then slowly swung the door forward. All three of them cautiously entered the room.
There was a desk with a swivel chair in front of it, facing the opposite wall. Bookshelves lined the other two sides of the room, filled to the brim. There was a colorful rug lying on the floor with designs of rich red and orange. It was just as quiet as the outside hallway.
Then the chair suddenly turned around. Amy let out a loud gasp as the occupant revealed himself.
He was an older man with a receding hairline and a facial expression of pure snobbishness. “Surprised to find me here?” he asked in a deep voice. “Well, how could I not know when my own daughter enters my own home?”
“What?” Carl said, turning to Amy, who looked absolutely terrified.
But Jacob was staring at the familiar jeweled ring that now adorned the man’s finger with a look of mild fury.
“Are you sure this is the way?” Jacob asked once again in a low whisper.
“Yeah,” Amy whispered back, quickly looking behind her with a distinct feeling of nervousness. “These are just living rooms.”
“C’mon, let’s take a peek,” said Carl, raising his voice to something that sounded much louder than it should have. He edged closer to one of the doors. “There might be something good in here.”
Jacob grabbed his arm. “No,” he said under his breath. “We’re just here to get the ring, then get out. No delays. Not like last time.”
“Alright, alright,” Carl muttered, pulling his arm free and looking annoyed. “Let’s get going.”
The three continued down the hallway, and through the maze of passageways that filled the inside of the mansion. Rows of identical wooden doors. Infinite stretches of blank walls. It began to get more difficult to judge how far they’d gone, and how far they still had to go.
They took a right, then a left. Then several more turns. No matter how far they went things seemed to be, the situation didn’t seem to change in any way. The doors remained the same, as did the walls. They didn't venture into any of the rooms.
“How far until the treasure room?” Carl asked.
“It’s not the treasure room, it’s just the room…with my ring in it,” said Jacob. “If we keep following the hallway we’ll get to it.”
“Actually, we have to take a left up here,” Amy pointed out, gesturing to the fork in the path ahead of them. “And then it’s a straight shot.”
“Geez, it’s a good thing you know so much about this place,” said Carl, gazing up at the ceiling, then back behind them. “We’d have gotten lost ages ago otherwise. Besides, then you wouldn’t have come along.” He gave Amy a friendly bump with his elbow, and she shyly smiled back.
“We still could have used a map,” said Jacob. “Like you said, it’s easy to get lost in here.”
The conversation died down as suddenly as it began, and the three continued walking. More of the same doors. The color of the walls also remained unchanged. A feeling of nervousness, like damp sweat, seemed to fill all of them as they proceeded. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, yet things seemed to feel just the opposite.
“You know,” said Amy after a while, struggling to get the words out, “You could just, you know, go to a jewelry store and get some ring. I don’t get why we had to come…here.”
“Listen, that ring’s been in my family for generations,” Jacob said. “Or at least it was, until that old bastard stole it. I’m not giving up that easily.”
Minutes more passed. Despite Jacob’s confidence, he had to ask Amy directions once or twice more. It was hard to believe they were inside a building at all, and it began to feel more and more like a vast, neverending labyrinth.
“You know, it’s kind of weird,” said Carl, breaking the silence surrounding them.
Jacob stopped and turned his head around. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“If I were stinkin’ rich, I’d at least put paintings on the walls. I mean, I’d probably even buy the Mona Pisa and put it up somewhere.”
“You mean the Mona Lisa?” said Jacob, chuckling in spite of himself.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Carl replied, waving away the correction. “But you know what I mean? It all just seems kind of…off.”
“Yeah, I suppose,” said Jacob, looking up at the ceiling. “But I guess a lot of rich people are…you know, eccentric. You don’t get all that money by being like everybody else, right?” Then under his breath, he added, “You have to be a thief, too.”
“That makes sense, I guess,” said Carl, who hadn’t heard Jacob’s muttering. As the last word left his lips, everything seemed to return to a state of quietness that almost suffocated them, almost like they were underwater. All three of them had stopped walking and were standing in the middle of the hall.
“We should have made it by now,” said Amy suddenly. Everyone stopped moving. Then, after a small pause, she pointed directly ahead. “That’s the study. If your ring’s anywhere, it’s in there.”
“Well, here goes nothing.” Jacob stepped forward until he reached the door. It looked identical to every single other door they had already passed. However, behind this one was the prize they had been searching for. He turned the handle, then slowly swung the door forward. All three of them cautiously entered the room.
There was a desk with a swivel chair in front of it, facing the opposite wall. Bookshelves lined the other two sides of the room, filled to the brim. There was a colorful rug lying on the floor with designs of rich red and orange. It was just as quiet as the outside hallway.
Then the chair suddenly turned around. Amy let out a loud gasp as the occupant revealed himself.
He was an older man with a receding hairline and a facial expression of pure snobbishness. “Surprised to find me here?” he asked in a deep voice. “Well, how could I not know when my own daughter enters my own home?”
“What?” Carl said, turning to Amy, who looked absolutely terrified.
But Jacob was staring at the familiar jeweled ring that now adorned the man’s finger with a look of mild fury.