Category: Creative Writing

Rachel Yan (11) | STAFF REPORTER

Document 1

I once had a friend named Arianna.

Is that the right way to start a confession?  read more

Rachel Yan (11) | STAFF REPORTER

The plants rustled restlessly as the door swung open. A pair of feet came into view, descending the stairs. They belonged to a young girl of seven or eight, followed by a boy of the same age.  read more

Rachel Yan (11) | STAFF REPORTER

Every few years in Elias’s village, a young adult between the ages of 20 and 25 would disappear in the middle of the night. The disappearances were normal, and no one was surprised.  read more

Ahou Naderpour Ardestani (11) | STAFF REPORTER

As a paranoid homebody, I was quick to come up with excuses when my friend Sophie asked me if I wanted to join her family for camping. It’s easy to give people excuses, but fully convincing yourself is a bit trickier. The real reason I immediately dismissed the idea was because my life revolves around schedules and worries and to-do lists and a deep, desperate desire for organization. Two days away from home? Without access to my pantry of food, drawers of clean clothes, and pages of lists? Unimaginable. read more

Emily Yang (11) | STAFF REPORTER

2:30 am.

Turning from the clock, I sighed at the open mess of a suitcase before me. I had started packing at around midnight.  read more

Emily Yang (11) | STAFF REPORTER

The chimes sounded as we pushed our way in through the doors. I took a long stride forward into the bookstore. Eyelids drooping, I inhaled deeply, filling my lungs with the scent of dust, paper, and aged book covers. My comfort spot. From behind me, Mavi strolled towards the shelves lining the walls.  read more

Annabelle Wong Hin Sang (9) | STAFF REPORTER

I tug on the brass handle. Chips of paint flake as the door reluctantly creaks open, dusting worn floorboards. A soft square of light forms in the centre of the room as clouds part, revealing a blanket of pink and orange beneath. I step inside, gazing over the attic’s contents when I realise I left a lot more than I remember. read more

Emily Yang (11) | STAFF REPORTER

Mary Lynn, 35 years old, a widow. Her past seven years had been but a slow, excruciating deterioration of her individuality. She looked old for her age, prematurely shriveled by the passion of grief. Her face showed an unapproachable solemnity with a burden of sadness. read more

Dane Recaido (11) | STAFF REPORTER

A chill crawled down my spine as I fought back the burning waves of despair that weaved and encircled my heart. It took my breathe away, leaving a dull thrum of the lingering reminder of the loss I let slip through my fingers. I was powerless against it as I watched the burning flames engulf the building with unnerving restraint.  read more

Emily Yang (11)  | STAFF REPORTER

This morning, I fully prepared to be absorbed in my book for the whole ride. Though it was a reread, it was one of my all time favorites.  read more