1st Place – Short Story Category Grades 5th & 6th “My Brother, My Role Model” by Jack Coulombe Have you ever had someone you know and love move away, then you realize how important they really are? That’s what happened to me when my comical brother moved away to college. One cold school night while I was inside setting up my dominoes, my brother headed outside to check the mail. Ever since he had applied to Willamette University he had been checking the mail obsessively. While I sat in my warm cozy house, and frustrated myself again by knocking over the dominoes on accident, I thought to myself how cool it would be if Mitch walked in and announced that he was accepted to Willamette. The thought hadn’t even left my mind when my brother rushed in the door and blurted with joy, “I got a letter from Willamette!” “What does it say,” my Mom asked with a great amount of curiosity in her voice. My brother unfolded the long traveled letter. It says “It says that it would be a great pleasure for them to have me attend Willamette University!” He sounded so proud and so happy that I thought he had drained all the excitement out of the whole state. The next few months when I got asked “Oh Jack, are you going to miss your brother?” I would simply reply, “I guess so…I get the big couch all to myself now!” I really had no idea how special Mitch is to me. The day finally came when we had to wake up at 3:00 in the morning to take my brother to college. We were all ready to go around 4:00. Therefore, my brother gave our dog some kisses and we left. While we drove there I fell asleep and dreamed about how I would be so big and tough and not shed a single tear of sadness or dread. Nope, I was ready for him to go. My Brother, My Role Model Page 2 My mom had to make it mushy and softly said, “Oh Mitch, can’t you wait to have a bunch of exciting experiences in somewhere new?” “Of course this is going to be lots of fun,” replied my brother. Finally, at around 7:30 in the morning we arrived at Mitch’s elegant, small brick campus. We drove straight to my brother’s dorm where a bunch of hulk like football players waited in the parking lot to help people carry stuff up the stairs to their dorm rooms. My brother was all the way up on the top floor. Some people would say “Oh, what a great view you have!” To me it just meant more walking. “Ugh, I’m so tired of walking, let’s leave, I whined.” Eventually we had all the boxes in the room, and my watery-eyed Mom stayed with my brother and my strong as a rock Dad and I went out to see what the town was like. When we came back we were all about halfway to death from hunger. We went to the spectacular restaurant across the street from my brother’s dorm. Now I felt as if I was so full that I would explode like a giant balloon popping. After we dropped off my brother at his dorm, we headed to our hotel where we weren’t too long for the world and crashed. The next day we made the short drive to Mitch’s dorm. It was suddenly time from my brother to leave the Mother’s nest. My Mom couldn’t help but cry, and I’m not going to lie – I shed a couple of tears without anyone seeing. I was going to miss my big bro. I have always looked up to him since I was little, and now it was time to let go. I have been thinking a lot about my brother lately, now in his second year of college and I miss him just as much. I’ve learned a lot from this experience. I learned that my brother IS truly important to me. Being the little brother of such a great example of a good person is a pleasure. I definitely respect and love my brother Mitch. My Brother, My Role Model Page 3 All in all, I still miss him a bunch. I excitingly still learned that I did get the big couch all to myself, but I think my Dad had the same idea… 1st Place – Short Story Category Grades 7th – 9th “A Twisted Wonderland” by Lilly Bruner This is the untold true story of a little girl who went insane and found the most real mystical place named, Wonderland. “Hannah!” I yelled, “you better not be playing in the rose bushes again!" Of course, my foolish seven year sister indeed was. She never listened. I found Hannah looking completely disgusting and truthfully, it was disheartening. “I’m used to the thorns Lisa! They don’t hurt anymore.” When would the silly little girl ever learn? I told her to get out of the garden and wash up. Hannah sat with Mother’s roses, covered from head to toe in mulch and soil. She was dirtier than the horses after a parade and more cut up than a fox in a brier bush. Blood. Everywhere. She insisted mother’s pure white roses be red. Whether from red paint or blood from her own gashed skin, they must be red. Sometimes I thought she purposely got cut up just so the roses appeared red. Oh and perfectly pruned. Hannah relentlessly picked out weeds and violently removed the wilted flowers. Lately I have heard her screaming, “Don’t you go and wilt on me..or..or..I’ll cut off your heads!” “Off your head you filthy wilted flower!” The latest beheadings of the revolutionaries in that dreaded rubbish filled country, France, have proved a very negative affect on my poor young sister. When her life idol, Marie Antoinette, was beheaded, I think she lost it. The little innocent little girl has not been the same since. I do truly think Hannah has gone mad. She must get it from my father, Johnny. He sells antique teacups for a living. Yes, teacups! It always amazes me that he actually makes a living off of such a silly trade. Yes, it must be from him. With his tall hats and a little more than slightly immature sense of humor, Father can make a scene A Twisted Wonderland Page 2 almost anywhere. Shockingly, my father’s exquisite teacup business makes a good deal of money, enough for an average English family of the time to live comfortably, but you see we are most definitely not an average family. Mother is the Princess of Marmoreal or as the commoners christened her, the White Princess. This is where almost our entire fortune comes from. We even live in one of the Marmoreal castles instead of my father’s rickety teacup shop. Quite the upgrade my grandfather says, or that’s at least what I thought he said. I can only make out half of what the old man says through the puffs of hookah. At least Grandfather tries to help out, but no one can withstand the strong aroma of the hookah that constantly lingers when he is in a room. With all mother’s “duties” to her country, father’s impractical obsession with his teacups, and grandfather’s hookah Hannah and I receive no attention. I have begged endlessly for a nanny to take care of us, mostly my unstable younger sister. Every time I request a care taker, my mother gives me the same answer, “Lisa, there is no need for some worthless nanny when your father, grandfather, and I take perfect care of you.” She was so wrong. No ever paid attention to us, and Hannah is getting worse by the day. Hannah has been having the most dreadful nightmares. She says she falls and falls and ends in Wonderland. Don’t be fooled by the name, this place is not wonderful at all. No. It contains cakes, if eaten, make one turn into a giant. Juices, if drank, one shrinks, to a size not even an ant could depict. To me, this sounds utmost not wonderful. But Hannah says that I in particular love it here! When I first heard this, it shocked me out of my wits. “Oh I am in this land?” I said. Hannah simply responds “Yes,” and quickly added that in this land no one calls me by my name, Lisa. They call me Allis. A Twisted Wonderland Page 3 She also said I venture further every time I come. I am the most peculiar creature in Wonderland. Every night I make the same mistakes and endure the same trials. I always run into a fat caterpillar smoking hookah, trying to tell me to turn back, but my thick head gets in the way of thought. I refuse his advice. Then, I created a habit of intruding in a mad hatter’s party right at tea time. Hannah says she knows this terrible dream is almost over when I meet the most gorgeous woman of all in Wonderland, the White Princess. When she told me this I smiled, because for the first time, something delightful happened. Hannah then quickly reminded me that nightmares were called nightmares for a reason and her mind wouldn’t let her wake up happy. Then, the worst part comes, Hannah describes herself as the Queen of Hearts who has millions upon millions of white roses.