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Young Writers Association - Lane County
 

Scary Writing Text 2012 Age 9-10

Scary Writing Text 2012 Age 9-10

1st  9-10 yrs. YWA SCARY WRITING 2012 Chosen for beautiful poetic language and sheer excitement.

 

Kindra Roy

Mrs. Casement, Mt. Vernon Elementary School

Age 10

 

            Fire Pirates.

 

            Lightning flashed, thunder boomed, waves crashed and murder loomed. A ship sailed in the deep sea. Its captain lay lifeless alone in his cabin. The blood-stained deck creaked with every step. A figure walked slowly in the night. Danger was in the air, lives at stake.

Clinking swords woke William. The young boy scrambled to his feet and ran toward the deck. He was sure someone was practicing their sword fighting and he wanted to see. But when he opened the door he saw men and blood. Blood! They were under attack!

A figure turned and looked at him. It had red eyes and slits of blood on its head. William turned to run, but it caught him. It dragged William to a boat and turned. The crew lit the ship, engulfing it in flames. Screams and cries filled the air. As the ship sank the screams were drowned by the water. The living realized the last minutes of their life ticking away. William was terrified, alone and helpless.

As the boat drifted away from the ship, William looked up and saw a skull and crossbones. Pirates! He would rather die than become one of them. He couldn’t get the thought out of his head and before he could think, he dove into the water with his hands tied. He knew he would have been killed anyway. Water filled his mouth. He blacked out and stopped breathing.

“No! Make him suffer!” he heard, then saw blood dripping on the deck. A whip slashed through the air, hitting his back. He let out a cry and sank to the floor, the life sucked out of him. He became aware he was not in the water, and wished he were. Swords slashed through the air, more lives were taken.

 


 

2nd  9-10 yrs. YWA SCARY WRITING 2012 Chosen for beauty and creepiness factor.

Jane Brinkley

Ridgeline Montessori

Age 10

 

Lightning Girl

 

One night a century or more ago

The wind knocked trees to and fro

And blew rocks around

 

Thunder roared a dreadful roar

Every house shut tight and locked their door

To keep the thunder away

 

But out in the midst of the roaring gale

A humble peasant trudged through the hail

Pleading for shelter

 

Knocking on the door of every neighbor

It was a dreadful sort of labor,

But she did it anyway

 

Though no house wanted to let the beggar in,

So the humble old peasant fell down through the din,

And lay there

 

She lay on the cold hard ground,

And lightning struck her – O, the sound

The last she ever heard.

 

Now one night a century more began

A storm like the one where the peasant ran

Through the hail and snow

 

The ghost of the peasant girl begs for mercy

Whispers – “Let me in! I’m hungry and thirsty…”

Just like that one century ago

 

And any home that doesn’t will be found

Struck by lighting – O, the sound…

The last they’ll ever hear.

 

If they don’t let her in.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3rd  9-10 yrs. YWA SCARY WRITING 2012 Chosen for cleverness and humor.

 

Ben Ackerman

Adams Elementary

Age 10

 

Night of the Living Potato

It was a dark and stormy Halloween night... not that that matters right now. Anyway, as I was setting up cheap plastic Halloween decorations, I could hear crunching from down the hallway.

"You’d better not be eating the candy corn again!" I yelled down the hall to my friend Mike. Then I remembered; he had left a few minutes ago because he’d been scared by a fake spider with a huge smiley face on it (of course, it did look kind of creepy, with those huge buck teeth). I went down the hall to investigate. I finally traced the noise to the kitchen. It was coming from the fridge.

I was about to open the door, but then I remembered something. I remembered the living potato that I had eaten a few months ago (and man, it was tasty!). I hadn’t finished it all, so I put the leftovers in the fridge. It must still be alive!

I swung the door open, revealing a brownish-greenish mush with bloodshot red eyes. It was a potato zombie! I knew what I had to do.

I dashed to the cupboard, grabbed a fork, and impaled the monster. It didn’t do anything. But there had to be a way to stop it! Then it hit me. Not a brilliant idea, but the potato. Literally. And trust me, it hurt.

Trying to catch the little monster, I made a dive towards him. He jumped out of my reach, and splattered on the wall. I swiped at the goo, and chucked it into the microwave. I ran over to it and pressed the baked potato button. After thirty seconds, I opened the microwave to find that the potato had surprisingly exploded. The vegetable menace was gone forever.

Or was he...?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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