Gumtree Writing 2017

The 46th Celebration of the Arts 2017 Youth Celebration of Writing Contest Winners from grades K - 12 ALSO FEATURING YOUNG ADVERTISERS, A STUDENT AD DESIGN PROGRAM FOR PARTICIPATING BUSINESSES!

“Mill Town” by John Armistead

A NEWSPAPER & EDUCATION SUPPLEMENT TO THE

| FRIDAY, MAY 12, 2017

2017 YOUTH CELEBRATION OF WRITING CONTEST

DAILY JOURNAL

DAILY JOURNAL

2017 YOUTH CELEBRATION OF WRITING CONTEST

FRIDAY, MAY 12, 2017

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| FRIDAY, MAY 12, 2017

2017 YOUTH CELEBRATION OF WRITING CONTEST

DAILY JOURNAL

DAILY JOURNAL

2017 YOUTH CELEBRATION OF WRITING CONTEST

FRIDAY, MAY 12, 2017

|

| FRIDAY, MAY 12, 2017

2017 YOUTH CELEBRATION OF WRITING CONTEST

DAILY JOURNAL

The Tradition of Writing by Amy Wyatt As an elementary student, I remember studying about ancient civilizations and their cultures. Two things that always stood out to me were the use of Egyptian hieroglyphics and the even earlier cave paintings in France. I always thought it was so amazing that even that long ago, people were trying to leave their mark.

They had a message they wanted to share, and they found a means to do it.

If you don’t count the cave drawings, writing as a form of communication has been around since at least 3,500 B.C. when civilizations in ancient Mesopotamia used a form of symbols or pictographs called Cuneiform script. Over time, the type of writing we use today developed. Whether through picture writing or words, people since our earliest times have found ways to record information, pass along stories, and stretch their creativity.

Societies valued this form of communication and wanted its young students to be educated about how to properly use it.

Eventually, writing became one of the three Rs - reading, writing, and arithmetic.

Schools have been teaching the conventions of writing, such as grammar, spelling, vocabulary, and punctuation, for centuries. Some schools have even placed an emphasis on the process of writing, where students learn prewriting strategies, drafting, editing, and publishing skills.

Teaching students about writing has become a tradition in our local schools as well, and our community has also long supported writing as an art form. This is evidenced by the creation of this writing contest in the early 1990s. For almost twenty-five years, students all over Lee County have submitted narratives, essays, and poems to be judged. Countless students have enjoyed being recognized by their school districts and at the Gum Tree Festival, receiving prizes and ribbons, having their work displayed in the window at Reed’s Department Store, and being an actual published author when their piece

was published in the Daily Journal. These are such valuable experiences! I am very thankful for the tradition of the Gum Tree Writing Contest in our area and for everyone who plays a part in pulling it off each year.

This year a whole new group of students will experience the joys of winning the contest. The process of choosing winning entries and publishing them had many steps. It began in February when representatives from schools all over Lee County were contacted to serve as building-level coordinators. The coordinators passed along information about the contest, including rules and timelines. Later, near the end of March, they were responsible for collecting students’ papers and delivering them to my school.

All this work was leading up to a very important date – judging day! I was humbled to work with so many talented people willing to spend the day at the Hancock Leadership Center in order to complete the daunting task of reading over fifteen hundred worthy entries and narrowing them down to the small group of exceptional poems, stories, and essays that are included here. That morning began by organizing the massive stacks of papers by grade level and type of writing. Next, each piece of writing was detached from its coversheet and assigned a number. The coversheet would need to be reattached when judging was over and the paper returned to the rightful owner.

After the organizing was over, groups of judges began reading entries from their assigned grade level. At times the room was buzzing with noisy chatter about favorite stories or poems. I heard laughter, groans, and sighs. The judges worked diligently until a first, second, and third place for each category was chosen. In some cases, a tie was granted. When the day was over, seventy-eight awards were given!

Letters of congratulation were mailed to the winners, along with a letter granting permission to publish the student’s writing

and picture. It wasn’t long before I began to receive responses in my mailbox. I grew more and more excited as I checked off each name on the list.

Each entry had to be typed, numbered, and matched with the author’s picture.

When all of the entries and photographs were completed, I emailed each grade level to the Northeast Mississippi Daily Journal’s office. At that point, the employees there began the process of putting together this supplement. I’m so thankful to them, because these students deserve a chance to share their voices. It is no small thing that readers all over Northeast Mississippi will get to experience and enjoy these stories and poems. I would also like to express my appreciation to Robert Gaines with State Farm Insurance for sponsoring the writing and youth portfolio portion of the GumTree Festival this year.

This year’s Gum Tree Writing Contest will come to a close on Mother’s Day at 3:00 p.m. The students will be honored for their hard work during a ceremony held at the Gum Tree Festival. After reading their writing, I can’t wait to put a face with each story or poem! I invite you to join us.

2017 YOUTH CELEBRATION OF WRITING CONTEST

DAILY JOURNAL

KINDERGARTEN - POETRY Wren Brashier First Place - Poetry Kindergarten Carver Elementary School

Congratulations, Eli! We are so proud of the young man you are becoming! Love, Mom, Dad, Parker, Sawyer and Addison Kate "Give thanks to the Lord for He is good, His love endures forever." Psalm 107:1

FRIDAY, MAY 12, 2017

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Congratulations, Turner! We are very proud of you!

Matthew 5:16-Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven. Love, Mom and Dad Turner Adams

Eli Stevens

Second Place - Narrative/Essay Kindergarten Tupelo Christian Preparatory School

Third Place - Poetry Kindergarten Tupelo Christian Preparatory School

Penguin Drop Penguins slide and they can hide.

Penguins swim and can be named Tim. Penguins walk slow in the snow.

Penguins flop and drop, and they just can not stop.

Congratulations! We are so proud of your accomplishments. Col. 3:17. Love, Mom and Dad Annie Watson Second Place - Poetry Kindergarten Tupelo Christian Preparatory School

The Football Cards I love football cards.

The players are really tall.

I collect them at the mall.

They call plays.

I could watch it for days.

Fishing in the Pond

It was evening. My mamaw and me went on my dock to fish for bass. I threw one time in my mamaw’s honey hole. She always fishes there. I threw it in, and the fish took my bait. I caught a bass. It was two pounds. It flopped. We threw it back. My mamaw didn’t catch nothing but was lucky. The best place to go fishing is the Tennessee River, but if you can’t go there, you should go to my mamaw’s honey hole.

KINDERGARTEN - NARRATIVE / ESSAY

Layla Crawford Third Place - Narrative/Essay Kindergarten Parkway Elementary School

Congratulations! We are so proud of your accomplishments. Col. 3:17. Love, Mom and Dad Annie Watson First Place - Narrative/Essay Kindergarten Tupelo Christian Preparatory School

All About You! My Family My dad is Chad, and he is glad.

My mom is Amie, and sometimes she blames me.

My sister is Lily, and she is silly.

The Goat Ate My Homework I took my homework home. I had to write G’s. My daddy watched me at the table. I went out with him, and when I left my homework alone, the goat ate my homework. Just the corner of it. My daddy freaked out. That’s why you don’t do your homework outside. It used to just be an old saying, but it’s true.

My story is all about you. You can be little, you can be big, or you could be smart, because you can do anything as long as you believe in yourself! And if you don’t, then just say, “I can, I can, I can.” Even if you don’t say it, then it still will be alright too, because as long as you trust in yourself, then everything will be just great!

2017 YOUTH CELEBRATION OF WRITING CONTEST

| FRIDAY, MAY 12, 2017

FIRST GRADE - POETRY

Tristan McCluney Third Place - Poetry First Grade Tupelo Christian Preparatory School

Jeremiah 29:11- “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

Congratulations, Keegan and Camden. We love you!

Mom, Dad, GG and Pappy.

Camden and Keegan Vernon First Place - Poetry First Grade Tupelo Christian Preparatory School

Twins God made two of us.

We look just the same.

People mix us up.

Friends know our name.

We like the same food.

We wear the same clothes.

Like Mario and Luigi.

We are bros!

Bones Bones help us every day.

They help us work.

They help us play.

DAILY JOURNAL

because I was scared on that thing! Next, I rode Thunder Mountain. It was super loud when we got in the cave. It would even turn sideways. I almost fell out but it was super fun, plus we were at Disney World! It was faster than Space Mountain. Then, I rode Splash Mountain, and it was where you were in a kind of movie thing but it was a ride.

At the end you would go down really fast! The thing you go down on is a waterfall, but fun! My last ride is the Haunted Mansion. I thought it would be scary because the name said Haunted Mansion but I was brave. I rode it! Being at Disney World is the bravest thing I had to do!

Crosby Claire Daugherty

Bones help us stand.

They help us write.

They help us play in a band.

They help us run places.

They help us tie our laces.

Bones can hold up our faces.

Third Place - Narrative/Essay First Grade Joyner Elementary School

A Trip to the Zoo

FIRST GRADE - NARRATIVE / ESSAY Addyson Ferguson First Place - Narrative/Essay First Grade Carver Elementary School

We love you and are so proud of you!

Love, Mom, Dad and Lucas

SECOND GRADE - POETRY

Knox Hensley Second Place - Poetry First Grade Tupelo Christian Preparatory School

On a cloudy day I went to the zoo with my family. We saw lots of pretty and cool animals. I liked the flamingos so I stopped to take a picture. Then we followed the signs to Stingray Bay. There Daddy taught me how to touch a stingray. This was my favorite part of the trip! The stingrays were black and white and felt smooth. I loved the zoo and can’t wait to go again!

Mariah Isby

The Dark Room One night a room went dark. The light did not come on. The little girl was terrified. She bumped in to something. What could it be? Suddenly the lights came on again. It was just a chair.

First Place - Poetry Second Grade Shannon Primary School

Ella Smith Baseball Swing really hard!

Run really fast!

Try not to get out!

Catch a pop fly, Way up in the sky.

If you do, they will be out!

Bring your bat, glove, water bottle, too.

Three strikes you’re out!

Bad luck for you.

Second Place - Narrative/Essay First Grade Mooreville Elementary School

I Wish

The Bravest Day of My Life Have you ever been brave? I was. I rode not just three but four rides! Well, I guess I will tell you the story. First, I rode Space Mountain. It was fun but my hair got messed up when the camera took a picture of me! When the ride was over, I was so happy

I wish I lived in a world that only had love.

I wish people did not hate other people.

I wish I lived in a world where people had lots of food.

I wish everyone had a place to call home, and no one had to live on the street.

I wish everyone had plenty of clothes to wear.

I wish rainbows really touched the ground, and I could slide down one.

I wish ice cream was always part of dinner.

2017 YOUTH CELEBRATION OF WRITING CONTEST

DAILY JOURNAL

I wish laughing was required as part of our day.

I wish all my friends and family would live forever.

I wish we never had storms that made people lose their houses.

I wish all the nations would stop fighting and live happily ever after.

I wish we had longer time out of school.

I wish I could magically be anything I wanted to be without studying.

I wish we could do magic and make all things bad good.

SECOND GRADE - NARRATIVE / ESSAY

Dream… A Song My dreams are in my mind and then I fell down, hit the ground Until one day, one day, one day!

And I came back up again and I dreamed again.

So I’m gonna sing until I die Because I’m gonna follow my dreams.

I never stopped believin’ since this is my world and these are my dreams!

I’m gonna dream but until then my dreams are alive in my heart!

But I’m still gonna dream on.

Jaedyn Ealy Third Place - Poetry Second Grade Thomas Street Elementary School

First Place - Narrative/Essay Second Grade Shannon Primary School

The Day I Traveled Through the Mail I woke up this morning and tried to fix breakfast, but something was different about me. I was super small. I decided it was time for me to go to all of the places I have always wanted to go. But how was I supposed to get there? Through the mail, of course!

Let me tell you about the day I traveled through the mail. I got in a box and sealed it up and waited for the mail carrier to pick me up. I traveled across the city in the box. I saw a lot of buildings of all shapes and sizes and the zoo. I could hear and smell all of the animals. The mail carrier took me to the post office.

They wrote more information on my box. I was put in a mail truck and taken to my grandmother’s house. My grandmother opened me up, and she gave me a big hug. Then she said, “I missed you so much. I haven’t seen you in so long.

Welcome to my home.” We had lunch and lemonade and talked about our week. Later she said she would come visit me and my family in a week. I gave her a hug goodbye. I got back in my box, and she sealed me up and mailed me back home.

Congratulations, Rachel. We are so proud of all your accomplishments. Love, Dad, Mom and Amber Rachel Plenderleith Second Place - Narrative/Essay Second Grade Saltillo Primary School

If Children Ran the World Who would take care of us?

Who would keep us healthy?

Who would cheer us up?

What house would we live in?

Who will raise us children?

And who will take us to fun places?

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lars. I told my sister about the money, and she had a melt down.

She said it was not fair. My mom said, “Stop having a melt down!”

Alyssa Griggs

Sadie Ethridge Second Place - Poetry Second Grade Thomas Street Elementary School

FRIDAY, MAY 12, 2017

My Tooth Disappeared Have you ever lost a tooth? I have. Let me tell you what happened.

One evening I begged my dad to pull my tooth, and he said, “Yes!” He went to get the gauze. He then yanked it out. I was bleeding a lot. After that I showed my mom, and she had a cow!

I went upstairs and put it in my tooth pouch. The next day, I saw money, and I told my mom that I got money for my tooth. She asked, “How much?” I said, “Five dollars!” She was amazed because I got a lot of money! I told my dad that I got five dol-

Liz, you are an amazing little girl. We are so very proud of you and grateful to God for allowing us to be your parents on this journey we call life. What a blessing you are to everyone you encounter; the love in your heart knows no bounds! ...Always remember this "I will praise you; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvelous are your works; and that my soul knows right well."

Psalm 139:14 Elizabeth Greer Third Place - Narrative/Essay Second Grade Saltillo Primary School

My Dirty Weekend

Usually riding golf carts is fun. But one day something crazy happened. Riding golf carts is a normal thing we do on the weekends. Since I’ve had a golf cart since I was three years old, I’ve been riding for a long time.

One day we decided to ride the golf cart in a cow field. The mud in the field was covered with grass so we couldn’t see it. We started to drive through the field. Then, oops! There we went. We sunk down in the mud. It was like three feet deep! I said, “Call Daddy!” He had just gotten done washing his bright yellow 4 wheeler, but he came.

Daddy to the rescue! Daddy came to help get us out of the mud, but instead he got stuck too! The tires on his 4 wheeler were spinning and spinning but not going anywhere. He got mud on us, and I think cow poop too. He finally got us unstuck. I thanked him for getting us out of the mess. We just laughed.

When we finally got home, it was time for supper. I told everyone what happened. My aunt asked us, “Was he mad?” I gladly answered, “Nope.” Mommy took pictures and put them on Facebook. The funny thing was that Daddy didn’t know it. After we ate, I took a bath. My water turned brown!

The next day, I went to school. I still felt dirty. I told everyone at school what had happened. They all laughed. I knew that they weren’t making fun of me. They were laughing at my story.

Everyone at school said, “Yuck!” I agreed with them and said, “I know, right.” This will always be a memory for my mom and me.

| FRIDAY, MAY 12, 2017

DAILY JOURNAL

He never comes in last.

THIRD GRADE - POETRY Logan Trousdale First Place - Poetry Third Grade Lawhon Elementary School

He runs around a lot.

He gets very hot.

He’ll need a lot of rest.

He’ll need it because he did his best.

Abe is very small.

He likes to play with a tennis ball.

Congratulations, Leah! We are so proud of you! Love, Mom, Dad, Aiden and Cera. “Whether therefore ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God.” 1 Corinthians 10:31 Leah Carr Second Place - Narrative/Essay Third Grade Saltillo Elementary School

If you give him a pat on the back, He’ll try to lick you just like that.

Summer Thunder Summer thunder, wow no wonder Boom! Crash! Bang!

Summer thunder, wow no wonder Pouring rain, pouring rain Stuff outside won’t get dry Storm is over, storm is over Go outside and see the clovers

Second Place - Poetry Third Grade Tupelo Christian Preparatory School

One day I was in a chase.

Good thing the cops did not see my face.

When I got home my dad said I was a disgrace.

I do not know why I was in a chase.

Or why my dad called me a disgrace.

But I will never be in another chase.

Abe

Abe is a dog.

He could jump over a log.

THIRD GRADE - NARRATIVE / ESSAY Sarah Potts First Place - Narrative/Essay Third Grade Lawhon Elementary School

John Christian Harbison

The Chase

He’s very fast.

2017 YOUTH CELEBRATION OF WRITING CONTEST

Wes Henson Third Place - Poetry Third Grade Tupelo Christian Preparatory School

Pesky Brother Saves the Day Do you know what it is like to have a pesky brother? Well, my brother takes my favorite drawing pens, takes my money and buys his own stuff, puts rocks in my shoes, and he interrupts my activities all the time. Usually it makes me feel upset and mad.

But one time he actually did me a favor by interrupting me!

It was a hot summer day. I was doing my back hand spring, and my brother was behind a tree! When I was in the middle of my back hand spring my brother jumped out from behind the tree and scared me. It made me so scared that I pulled my arms up to my chest, and I ended up doing a back tuck for my first time.

I even landed it like Gabby Douglas.

When my brother saw what I did, he got jealous and cackled to me, “Now you have to reward me because I’m the one that made you do it!” I said, “No way, Jose!” I tried it again, and after a couple of tries, I did it! Now I’m a pro back tucker. My brother was still mad so I told him that I was very lucky to have him and that I was glad he was my brother. He didn’t believe me and said, “Sure, I bet if you could call me anything, it would be meanie.” I just said, “Believe what you want,” and I kept on practicing. By the end of the day, it felt like I had done a million back tucks, but it was probably more like sixty-one. I was glad I kept working to get it right.

Even when he annoys me, I will try to remember the time he “accidentally” helped me learn the back tuck.

Cera and Her New Puppy

There was a little girl named Cera. She always wanted a puppy, but all she had was her big dog Penny. Penny was nice and sweet, but Cera was just so little. She wanted someone just like her, a puppy though. One day when Cera was five, her mom and dad had a big surprise for her and her big sister, Leah, and big brother, Aiden. Her mom said, “This choice will change your life forever!” Leah and Aiden were trying to figure out where they were going. Then they pulled up to the Humane Society. Leah said, “You’re kidding, right?” “No,” said Mom. “Puppy!”

They went inside and looked, and dad saw a little, tiny puppy named Mouth. They asked if they could go to the family room where they could see the puppy. Cera, Aiden, and Leah were thinking of a name like they had already adopted him. They did adopt him, and they renamed him Cooper. They loved him so much, but Cera loved him the most!

Lexi Jackson Third Place - Narrative/Essay Third Grade Verona Elementary School

My Trip to the Dinosaur Museum

Have you ever visited a dinosaur museum? Well, I have! My first favorite thing about going to the dinosaur museum is that I got to take a picture with a dinosaur leaning towards me. I felt scared as if the dinosaur was real and was about to eat me!

My second favorite thing is that I got to touch the dinosaurs and pet them until they went to sleep. I was kind of scared that they would bit me, but they were friendly instead.

Another thing is that I got to eat where the dinosaurs ate, which is their habitats. Their food was good. We had salad with the dinosaurs. They were herbivores.

Best of all I got to go with family and friends. I got to spend the night with the dinosaurs in their caves. These are some reasons why I loved the dinosaur museum.

2017 YOUTH CELEBRATION OF WRITING CONTEST

DAILY JOURNAL

If I don’t write a poem I know I”m gonna fail If I don’t write a poem My grade will hurt like a nail I just wrote a poem I knew that I could do it I just wrote a poem I thought that I blew it

FOURTH GRADE - POETRY God has gifted you with many talents. We are very proud of you! Congratulations, Alonna. Love, Mom, Dad and Crystal Alonna Snyder

Kaitlyn Johnson

First Place - Poetry Fourth Grade Tupelo Christian Preparatory School

Third Place - Poetry Fourth Grade Tupelo Christian Preparatory School

The Voice in My Head

Math

I can see what you see.

But you can’t see me.

I just learned math.

I think I’d rather take a bath.

I help you with the decisions you make.

I help you chose which path to take.

Then there’s something called multiplying, I don’t find it very satisfying.

I help you decide if she’s a good busy, To make sure she’ll always be trustworthy.

I kind of like fractions, But sometimes, I’d rather go to see famous attractions.

I help you in times of dark.

I help you to make your mark.

We just learned something called division.

I don’t think math is my mission.

Your purpose, I help you find.

I tell you to apologize when you’ve been unkind.

FRIDAY, MAY 12, 2017

My brother and I were getting ready. Then, my dad walked out of our room to go to a casino. Everybody finally got ready, and we went to the elevator. The elevator was JACKED up, so we had to take the stairs. My brother and my MeMe soon realized that the stairs only took you to the tenth floor, but I was already half past the seventh. The arcade was on the second floor, so I went on down there. I soon realized that my MeMe wasn’t behind me.

I was freaked out! I opened the second floor door, and guess what I saw, a parking station. I closed the door quickly, but I didn’t know what to do. So, I just started to fake cry. I started yelling, “Help, help” until I came across someone I knew. She took me to an elevator and went down to the arcade. I could not see my brother anywhere! The girl thought of an idea. She got her phone out and called her mom. Her mom called my dad. I knew right then I was in some serious trouble.

People were sent everywhere! Up to our room, elevators, stairs, everywhere! Finally, somebody found me and sent the girl where she needed to be. He took me down the escalator, and we waited for my dad. Finally, here he came with my MeMe and my brother. He looked like he was about to blow coming down here. He pulled me over to a corner, and of course, gave me a talk. I really did think I was going to be sent back to the room or have a red butt, but I guess he didn’t. Of course, the next day, he started to tease me. I know I have just had a lesson learned, so after that, it was fun nonstop. And lucky me, my mom wasn’t there.

In conclusion, my one and only fear at hotels is taking the staircase. Whew, I wonder what will happen next. I hope it’s not the same thing hopefully.

Dawson Arriola

Then there’s simple stuff like adding and subtracting, Sometimes my friend is distracting.

Second Place - Narrative/Essay Fourth Grade Saltillo Elementary School

I learned something about all this stuff, Even though some of it was a little tough.

I will always be your friend.

I will be with you until the end.

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FOURTH GRADE - NARRATIVE / ESSAY Congratulations! We are so proud of your accomplishments. Col. 3:17. Love, Mom and Dad

Congratulations! We are so proud of you!

Love, Mom, Dad and Ty.

Lily Scott Watson Second Place - Poetry Fourth Grade Tupelo Christian Preparatory School

Brody Thompson First Place - Narrative/Essay Fourth Grade Mooreville Elementary School

I Can’t Write a Poem I can’t write a poem ‘Cuz I really don’t know how I can’t write a poem But I have to write one now

Lost Have you ever had a life experience when you got lost? Let me tell you, it’s NOT good! Here’s my experience with getting lost.

Well, I woke up in Biloxi, MS, and we were going to the arcade!

Our New Dog

One day our family got a dog, but I should start from the beginning. One day my mom said that we could get a pet for our new house. We were excited so we started jumping around like jumping jellybeans. We all started looking at pets. My brother and I wanted a cat, but my sister wanted a dog. We all had a debate on which one was better, but my mom said it was a tie. So, one day she sent us to her mom’s house. Her mom said that she had to get groceries. She did get groceries, but she brought home a dog! The dog was a girl, and she acted so cute. We named the dog LIzzy, but today she has gotten bigger, cuter, and more playful. When we moved to our new house, it felt like a home sweet home with our new dog.

| FRIDAY, MAY 12, 2017

Isla Rinehart Third Place - Narrative/Essay Fourth Grade Saltillo Elementary School

All In

Taylor, Claire, and Olivia were going to gymnastics practice.

Taylor in an American flag leotard, Claire in a pink leotard, and Olivia in a red cheetah print leotard. They just made it to practice at Sparkle League Gymnastics. They walked in and saw Coach Alex and Assistant Coach Megan talking to each other worriedly.

“What’s wrong coach?” Olivia asked. “Sorry girls, the gym’s running out of money,” Coach Alex replied. “Can we do anything?”

Taylor asked. “Well, there is a competition coming up. If we win the prize money, we can save the gym,” Assistant Coach Megan said. “Done, done, and done,” Claire said excitedly. The girls rushed to the equipment. Taylor’s bar routine was perfect.

Claire’s floor routine was perfect, except she stumbled a little after her back handspring, and Olivia’s beam routine was stupendous.

It was time for the competition when they realized they needed to decide who was going to vault. Taylor ended up volunteering.

Then Madison and Siera from the opposing team strutted up to them. “You guys think you are amazing, but you are not going to win,” Madison said. Madison and Siera then sashayed away.

Claire was up first on floor. She did a roundoff, back hand-spring, back hand-spring, back tuck. She scored a 9.35. Next was Taylor’s bar routine. She did a kip, back hip circle, three giants, and a back tuck off. She scored a 9.95. Then, it was Olivia’s turn.

She hopped on the beam, did a back flip, did a front walkover, then did a full twist off. It was perfect. She scored a 9.99. Finally, it was time for Taylor’s vault. She was worried, because their gym was depending on her. She ran for the vault. She got a perfect 10.00. Taylor, Claire, and Olivia had saved the gym.

2017 YOUTH CELEBRATION OF WRITING CONTEST

FIFTH GRADE - POETRY We are so proud of you! Love, Mom, Dad and Ella Michael Afton Gable First Place - Poetry Fifth Grade Rankin Elementary School

DAILY JOURNAL

Timidly I looked up, As the liquid took hold.

Finally, I was sucked into a deep dark hoooooooooole……..

Tucker Crumpton Third Place - Poetry Fifth Grade Tupelo Christian Preparatory School

Tupelo POINTE Ballet is graceful, ballet is great, But there is one thing that I hate.

I was so, so excited, But now I’m just frightened.

Blisters, scabs, and bloody shoes, Sometimes it’s more than “just a bruise.”

The hour and a half, Is not a laugh.

Two times a week Makes me a freak.

Up on top of your toes, In a ballerina pose.

It hurts so bad, It makes me mad.

But I do it anyway, Because it’s ballet.

POINTE.

Tupelo, O so great, You make me want to celebrate.

Today, tomorrow, everyday You make me want to play.

Tupelo Golden Wave You are my fave.

Elvis moved to Memphis, what a shame, but he got a lot of fame.

When I eat Crave, it makes me feel brave.

O Connie’s Chicken, I’m a big fan.

When I eat it, it makes me want to fly like Peter Pan. Tupelo, O so great, You make me want to celebrate.

FIFTH GRADE - NARRATIVE / ESSAY

Korrie Morris

Simona Milev

Second Place - Poetry Fifth Grade Shannon Elementary School

First Place - Narrative/Essay Fifth Grade Lawndale Elementary School

Marshmallowy Personification I sat in the coffee shop, With my other marshmallow buds, When I heard a sudden thud.

The door was now ajar, But I couldn’t see very far.

Then I heard a voice, “Can I have hot chocolate, m’am?”

“Yes, you surely can.”

As the bag rumbled, I was so scared I thought I’d crumble.

I was suddenly picked up And set into a cup.

Head’n West

I sighed. I couldn’t believe it when Ma and Pa said we were headin’ west for a better life. Especially when they said I have to watch little Susy, my sister the whole way! She was such a pain!

I didn’t see why Ma and Pa wanted a new life. Life on the farm was fantastic! How could they just throw it away like that? But, they were my parents, so I had to go with them. I climbed into our family wagon and sat, waitin’ for Pa to finish tendin’ to the oxen that were carrying us. “I wanna walk by the horses!” Susy complained.

“They’re oxen, Susy,” I said. Finally, we started down the bumpy trail. The first few days went well; the trail got better, the oxen had a lot of strength, and there was very little rain to soak us up.

2017 YOUTH CELEBRATION OF WRITING CONTEST

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But, on our seventh day of travelin’ things got bad. As soon as Ma had sung little Susy to sleep, the rain got really hard. The slight drizzle of rain turned into big droplets, roughly smackin’ the wagon. Litte Susy then woke up. “I wanna go home!” she yelled to Pa, who was out front, trying to calm the oxen.

“Get inside the wagon!” Ma screamed to the strugglin’ Pa. Suddenly, things got worse.

An oxen trampled on Pa! “Paul….” Ma said, “My sweet Paul….”

“Pa!” Susy yelped. I grabbed hold of her wet self before she ran off into the storm. All of a sudden, things got from really bad to worse. Our canvas suddenly got ripped off, and then the oxen went loose. They ran off, frightened by the storm. Later that night, me, Little Susy, and Ma buried Pa since the storm had died off. We all knew that we would have to walk the rest of the way.

“We’ll have to walk for one more day till the next town,” Ma sighed.

Susy’s eyes lit up. “Water!” she said, running towards a dirty puddle.

“No!” I said. But, unfortunately, little Susy gulped some up. Ma gasped. Then, little Susy went limp, the disease Cholera taking over her. Me and Ma ran to the town with Susy in my arms, pleading for help. One kind man let us in and said he might be able to help. He took little Susy in his arms and told us we could take his extra room.

The next morning, me and Ma woke up to a familiar voice. “I’m better now!” Susy shouted. We all decided to live in the town.

Ma married John, the kind man who help us, and we all lived happily for the rest of our days.

Elise Waters Second Place - Narrative/Essay Fifth Grade Pierce Street Elementary

FRIDAY, MAY 12, 2017

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Her friends decided that they wanted to play hide and go seek, in the dark! Extra spooky. Elise gave everyone a flashlight and decided that Molly should count. They made a plan to stay in groups so they could hide together. Elise, Sadie, Abby, and Savannah were in a group. They hid inside the brush in the backyard.

“Elise,” Savannah stated, “this is a great hiding spot!”

“Thanks,” Elise replied. “They shouldn’t be able to find us unless we’re really loud.”

They waited, and waited, and waited.

“Wow,” Sadie blurted. “Molly must not be good at this!”

Because of this, everyone busted out laughing.

“Great, we busted it,” Abby whispered.

Seconds later, they all heard a SNAP! The group of girls figured Molly had heard them laughing, so they decided to give in. One by one, Sadie, Abby, Savannah, and Elise stepped out of the brush. They soon discovered that this wasn’t Molly, it was…

“A CLOWN!!!!”

They ran and ran until each and every one of them were out of breath. The clown inched closer. Abby turned around to see that the clown was five feet away from her. She screamed. Shoot.

They all tried to escape the freaky clown, but it was too late. They were captured.

“Elise,” Savannah said. “Where is your flashlight?” This gave Elise a brilliant idea. With one swing of her trusty flashlight, BAM! She knocked him out cold. They all sprinted back to Elise’s house, where they soon continued the party with an excellent ghost story!

Did you get a bruise?! You won’t be able to go to the market alone ever again!” she said worriedly. “Remember it is the Great Depression,” he reminded her. I asked, “What is the Great Depression?” My brother handed my mom the beans. “Nothing you need to know,” my mom said.

Then a few days later we went to the market again, but this time with my dad. After we got everything from our list, I saw a boy through the crowd. I knew him from somewhere, but I just couldn’t figure out where. Then it hit me. He was they boy that had stolen from me. “Hey, dad, that is the boy who stole from me!” I said. The boy took off when he saw me point at him. My dad and my brother went after him. I tried in vain to keep up with them. Once they caught the boy they started questioning him. “Why did you steal bread from my brother?” my brother asked. “Why did you push him down?” my dad said. The boy said nothing. “I need to see your parents!” “No,” he said.

“Why?” my dad asked. After a while we ended up forcing the boy to take us. As we were traveling, we got into the bad part of town. There were people living in wood structures with dirty tarps for houses. Then we got to a building. It was two wooden poles and a tarp roof. Then my dad asked, “Where are your parents?” “I have no parents. My dad died two months ago,” he explained. You could tell the boy had not eaten since the bread he stole from me a few days ago by his ribs poking out. He had ripped clothes and a dirty face. “You should come live with us.

You have no home, and I will not turn you out to a dirty orphanage,” my dad said sympathetically. So then we took the boy. That day I knew that we had helped that boy survive.

Congratulations, Cora Beth! Love, Mom, Dad and Joseph

SIXTH GRADE - POETRY

Cora Sheffield

Charlie Cox

Third Place - Narrative/Essay Fifth Grade Rankin Elementary School

First Place - Poetry Sixth Grade Milam Elementary School

Slumber Party (on Friday the 13th)

The day was Friday, the thirteenth, and Elise was planning her slumber party. She had it all figured out. They would watch a movie, play soccer, carve jack-o-lanterns, and all that fun stuff!

But, it started raining. A major bummer. Halloween was just a couple of weeks away, and the news spread that there were clowns in the area. Spooky! Elise thought that maybe they could change their plans and do some fun indoor activities that are like the ones they were gonna do outside. So, she and her mom finished setting up for the party. They were having pizza, fruit, and cake!

It wasn’t long before all of her friends walked through the door.

They carried bundles of presents. Score! First, they all got settled in the basement. Then, everyone came back upstairs to eat!

With a mouthful of strawberries, Sadie asked, “So, Elise, how does it feel to be twelve?”

She replied, “Great, Sadie! What do ya’ll wanna do next?”

The Child Today my mom sent me to go get some bread. No sooner than I had put the bread in my jacket pocket a boy came up to me and slammed me down by my jacket. Then the bread fell out, and the boy grabbed it and ran. “Hey, get back here!” I screamed as I tried to sit up. MY older brother came running up to me from getting beans. “Are you okay?” he said worried.

“I’m fine,” I said, brushing myself off. “What happened?” he said. “A boy came and slammed me down by my coat and stole the bread! Mom and dad will be angry. I will get in trouble!” I exclaimed. “No, they will not,” he told me. We walked home and knocked on the door. “Hello, is anyone there?” my brother asked. My mom came and opened it. “Where is the bread?” she asked. My brother explained what happened. “Are you okay?!

AMERICA America The home of the free The home of the brave, but also to say The home of the cree and works of the slave.

America Where some people worry about halftime, While others worry about stop ’n crime.

America The home of the greed, The home of the need. The home of the homeless, The home of the heartless. The home of the honor, The home of the robber.

| FRIDAY, MAY 12, 2017

2017 YOUTH CELEBRATION OF WRITING CONTEST Pauline Gan Lim

America The home of knowledge and gain, The home of stupidity that lives in vain.

Third Place - Poetry Sixth Grade Milam Elementary School

America The home of foundation, The home of discrimination.

America let’s make a change.

Chloe! We are all so proud of you and love you very much!

Love, Momma, Patrick, Ada, Nanny and Papaw

Could I Understand Jumping in a car seat, a journey to remember Frowns of mom and dad Was I to understand Walking through time Grass holding engraved stones Holding hands as she walked Could I understand

Chloe Michael Second Place - Poetry Sixth Grade Milam Elementary School

The Trailer

The trailer house stands on cinder blocks, The yard is dirty, and the grass is all grown up.

Dogs, cats, and softball bats Are littered around the floor.

The smell of chicken poo creeps toward the house, Like a predator, Circling its prey.

The paint fumes are flowers, The smell creeping up my nose.

The sound of the violin dances inside my ears.

The storms at night are like a lullaby, Lulling me to sleep at night.

The stars are dreams, Up high in the sky, Waiting to be dreamt.

It’s not perfect, But it’s home.

Placing themselves on chairs Staring at an eerie box Eyes set with a stare Shiny beads rolled down each face

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Mississippi, it began to snow. Schools were cancelled all over Mississippi, even some in Tennessee. All the children were playing and making snowmen, but before I could play, I had to shovel snow out of the driveway. I began walking towards the shed, but then I saw something on the snow…red, but not any red, the deepest crimson red I have ever seen. I froze. Every noise I heard faded, and all I could hear was a a loud, ringing noise.

Then I noticed the trail led into the woods. I followed it. As I was trudging through the snow, I heard a noise, a cutting noise. It got closer as I got closer. Then, I saw…it. A large, gray, skinny creature that was cutting, dissecting the man. I could hear him gurgling any squirming, trying to escape. The creature had long, rake-like fingers. I just sat there, watching. *RING* My phone was in my pocket. It turned around and stared at me. It’s eyes had no pupil. They were just bright white. I stared. It stared. It growled and scuttled off. For the rest of the day, I couldn’t speak.

I was in shock the whole day. I couldn’t even sleep. 10:30. Still no sleep. 11:41. Screams from my family in my house. I pretended to be asleep as it walked in my room with long, bloody fingers. With its bloody fingers, it wrote on my wall. After it finished writing the message, it hid. I couldn’t read the message, so I squinted. I eventually made out the word. The message said, “I know you are awake.” It appeared….

Could I understand Walking close to him she stood there Hovering over the box Shiny puddles on her cheek Could I understand Wondering what seemed like forever I wondered where did they go?

Would I see them again?

Death, could I understand?

SIXTH GRADE - NARRATIVE / ESSAY Congratulations, Kye! We are so proud of you and your accomplishments. Keep up the good work! We love you, Momma and your village!

Kye Scott First Place - Narrative/Essay Sixth Grade Tupelo Christian Preparatory School

Red Snow Snow, it had to be one of my - if not my most favorite - thing on the planet. On December 12, 2017, in my hometown in

Olivia Crowder Second Place - Narrative/Essay Sixth Grade Guntown Middle School

Monica’s Story

Greetings! My name is Monica. I’m Mary Pope Osborne’s pencil.

In case you don’t know who Mary Pope Osborne is, she is the author of the “Magic Treehouse” series. I adore Mary. The only bad characteristic about Mary is that she likes her pencil sharp.

It’s like every time I turn around my gorgeous behind is back in the pencil sharpener - a pencil’s worst nightmare.

Are you uttering the words, “You’re over exaggerating?” Well, humans, for your information, it’s devastating! Imagine every time your behind gets dull, they cut it off with a very sharp, painful razor. You humans need to create a less painful way to sharpen pencils.

Wait a second, I’m about to be sharpened again! Ahh! …Finally, I’m out of there. Wait a minute. Mary is writing a new book. This one’s called The Call of the Wild . Whenever Mary writes a new book, we go somewhere to get facts. Look, Mary is wearing a safari hat meaning we’re traveling to Africa. I absolutely love Africa! Have you ever been to Africa?

Better yet, taken the African tours? They’re awesome. One time I climbed aboard an African tour and saw all these spectacular animals. Can’t wait to go back! The only thing I hate about traveling is that Mary doesn’t use me on the plane, train, or any type of transportation. I always get really lonely in Mary’s backpack.

Sitting there in the dark for what seems like days waiting to be

2017 YOUTH CELEBRATION OF WRITING CONTEST

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used again. It reminds me of when I was little. I would sit in a display case day after day watching people walk by without noticing me.

Hold on a minute. We’re moving time to go into sleep mode…Hey! I’m back and more enthusiastic than I’ve ever been before. There are so many animals like lions, and I’m not scared!

The only scary thing about Africa is they use knives to sharpen their pencils. Maybe Mary brought the hand held.

Well, time to set up camp outside in the dark. Now I’m scared. I tremendously hate the dark! Guess I’ll be staying up tonight…Did you hear that? It sounded big! Mary! Mary, wake up! There’s something outside, and it’s not your big Aunt Sheila.

A baby monkey? Hey, I’m not a toy. Watch the lead, or I’ll stick you in the pencil sharpener and see how you like it. No, don’t call your mommy. Ahh, too late…! Mary, you’re awake. Get this mean monkey away from me. Yay, mean monkey is gone! “Let’s go home,” Mary said reading my mind. Another lonely ride home but better than getting thrown around by a monkey. Mary’s book is a best seller, and wait, my lead is broken! Ahhh!

in line left. I almost cried. People started to murmur. I started to talk to her. “You need to have a heart sometimes, especially on Easter. It’s a time to celebrate with the Easter Bunny, color Easter eggs, and spend time together. Why can’t you celebrate like everyone else?” I felt a little better. Then, Charlie got emotional.

She started to talk weakly. “It’s not that I don’t like Easter, but I never get to be the Easter Bunny.” Everyone got emotional.

“Your time will come someday. I promise.” Then Charlie gave me a hug. “Thanks, Chuck.” Then we worked together with the kids.

We made a pretty good team.

Third Place - Narrative/Essay Sixth Grade Guntown Middle School

The Easter Bunny Comes to Town

Ring! Ring! The alarm goes off like a siren on a firetruck. I wake up startled in fear. My name is Chuck, and I’m this year’s Easter Bunny. I will go see kids in the mall, take pictures, give the kids Easter eggs filled with candy, and give them small coloring books and crayons to color in. I better eat breakfast, get dressed, and get going.

At 10:30 a.m. I arrive at the mall. I take a deep breath and open the door. As soon as I step foot in the mall, kids start running at me like a wolf pack! Wow! Kids like me, I thought. “Who’s ready to take pictures with the Easter Bunny?” I asked the kids. They screamed at the top of their lungs. “Well, let’s go to my chair, then!” I said excitedly. So everyone followed me to my seat.

About five minutes later, the kids and I got to my chair. It had a basket of Easter eggs with candy inside. My seat was white with a green seat covering. So, the kids got in a line so big, it surrounded by whole seat. I was surprised. I was ready to see kids of all ages.

Time passed, and I went through 25/75 of kids in line. I was so exhausted, but I didn’t want it to show through to the kids. All of a sudden, my sister Charlie walked to my chair. “Hey, Charlie.

What are you doing here?” I asked her nicely. “I have to talk to the kids for a minute.” She said in a rude way, “Kids, can I have your attention, please?” She screamed so loudly, Nebraska could hear her. We hear you, I thought to myself. “This Easter Bunny is a poser!” She yelled. The crowd gasped. “We all know this because I’m his sister.” All because of that, nearly half of the kids

I hope to keep going on these continental adventures Because experiences like this make life richer.

So excited for you, Morrison-Super work!

Love, Your family Morrison Sliman Second Place - Poetry Seventh Grade Tupelo Christian Preparatory School

Congratulations! We are so proud of you!

Love, Mom, Dad and Reeves First Place - Poetry Seventh Grade Tupelo Christian Preparatory School

Your Life Life is a blur of color all in one.

You’ll have many laughs You’ll have lots of fun.

Your life is a painting, and you’re the brush.

Paint it however, however you must.

Continental Adventures I like to travel and that’s no lie.

Wherever I go the time seems to fly.

In England you can see Big Ben, the clock tower, As the bells ring loud at the beginning of every hour.

In France you can visit the Notre Dame Cathedral To learn about the history of this old steeple.

In Belize there’s no need for a car — Instead use a golf cart because you don’t have to go far.

In the Bahamas you can play with the dolphins, But be careful, don’t be scared, and use caution.

In Ireland you can visit Cobh to learn about the Titanic Because that vessel was huge — it was gigantic.

In Jamaica you can try the delicious foods That can make someone’s day and put them in good moods.

In Mexico you can enjoy the coral reefs And stop at the taco stop to get a taco with beef.

In Canada we wandered onto Indian Territory It was fascinating, but was a scary story.

Now you know some of the places I’ve been;

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If I had to rate them all I’d give them a ten.

SEVENTH GRADE - POETRY

Claire Kenney Tionna Mosby

FRIDAY, MAY 12, 2017

Your life is short, I’m sure you’ve heard before.

Do your best in everything, Don’t shut opportunity’s door.

Don’t spend five minutes on things that won’t matter in five years.

You will be granted second chances, to this, I cheer.

Don’t go carelessly through your days.

Make a good life for you, and follow the Lord always.

The meaning of your life?

No one knows.

You decide.

Whatever you say goes.

Whether you make someone happier Or make someone smile You have the ability to make their day better, So go the extra mile.

Your life will be messy at times, Your life will be a stress.

But can you make it through?

It’s a definite yes.

| FRIDAY, MAY 12, 2017

Eron Hendrix Third Place - Poetry Seventh Grade Tupelo Christian Preparatory School

What Am I? I have beauty beyond compare, but also pain hard to bear.

My precision and balance are always on point.

I defiantly don’t disappoint.

You are amazed by my grace.

I can be performed in any place.

I may express emotion, or make a commotion.

I can tell quite a story; It can bring glory.

I make quite a display, and my name is ballet.

2017 YOUTH CELEBRATION OF WRITING CONTEST have my cape. This was a most prized possession and very difficult decision for me. However, I could see that Alex wanted the cape more than I did. So I took off the cape and gave it to him.

He was so excited, it was as if he had been given a million dollars. I was Alex’s hero! After returning home, I never thought about the cape much again.

Fast forward forty years, I was working in California as a movie director filming my next super hero action film that was inspired during my childhood years. While on the set, I realized that I needed some very high tech equipment to create some of the action scenes and contacted a company well know for their expertise in this area.

The owner came to the set. He introduced himself as Alex, and I quickly realized that it was my childhood friend. He was now a United States citizen and extremely successful, and I admired the work he had done on many films. He told me that on the day I gave him my cape, I gave him a dream and the promise of a future.

It’s a funny thing. It was almost like our childhood roles had reversed, and now Alex was able to help me. Funny, we often hold on to things that could help others more than us. I had no idea what a cape could do until I re-met Alex.

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tle sieges, and invading armies, finding a place to abide safely was a near to impossible feat. Up in the mountains, however, it was calm, peaceful, and plentiful in the way of food. When Eric reached the canyon,he was awed to find an army camped on the other side of the yawning gap in the earth’s crust. To his dismay, he observed the beginnings of what seemed to be a bridge! He rushed home to tell his father. They decided that if they desired to dwell there continually in peace, they would have to sabotage it.

The next morning he prepared his weapons. Since the bridge consisted mainly of wood and rope, he would use flaming arrows. He wrapped their shafts in birch bark, then coated them in turpentine. Eric then found the perfect place to wait for nightfall. Finally, night settled across the forest. Thankfully, there were no sentries to raise the alarm. He lit the first arrow, drew back his trusty bow, and fired. With a satisfying whoosh the bridge went up in flames. Suddenly, hidden archers rained down arrow on his position. As he fled into the forest, he dodged arrows left and right. By some miracle, he arrived back home unscathed.

“Father,” he said, “we can live in peace; I burned the bridge.”

Congratulations! We are so proud of you!

Love, Mom, Dad and Reeves

Mont Waterer Second Place - Narrative/Essay Seventh Grade Tupelo Christian Preparatory School

SEVENTH GRADE - NARRATIVE / ESSAY

Claire Kenney Third Place - Narrative/Essay Seventh Grade Tupelo Christian Preparatory School

Cameron Dean First Place - Narrative/Essay Seventh Grade Guntown Middle School

What Goes Around

I’m sure you have heard the phrase, “What goes around comes around.” Understanding the full impact of it is a totally different story. When I was a small boy, I enjoyed pretending that I was a super hero. You know, the kind of hero that could save the world. Of course, getting into character was part of being able to achieve my missions. This included wearing a very special cape that my mother made for me.

During these childhood years, my father’s work many times took us to foreign countries. Of course, my cape always traveled with me. One of the countries in particular was very poor, and there were not many jobs. One of my father’s co-workers who was from the country and lived there had a son named Alex, who was about my age. We became good friends and played “Super Hero” at the park every day. We took turns wearing my cape and had so much fun imagining that we could save the world from danger.

Before returning to the United States, Alex asked if he could

When Bridges Burn As the powerful waterfall cascaded down the rocky hillside, Eric listened for any sign of movement from the forest. When the deer he had been waiting for darted into the sunlit cleaning, he was ready. In one fluid movement,he grasped an arrow, pulled his bow taut, and fired. This would be his family’s meal that night. Mother will be pleased, he thought, as he plodded home in the fading sunset.

After the scrumptious meal, provided by his mother Elane, he lay down to stare at the shimmering night sky. Their campsite was well protected by his dog, Duke. The peaceful stillness of the night was broken as his father stomped into the campsite from doing whatever he did when he was away. Finally, as the quietness slipped back over the woods, he slept.

Eric awoke to a dawn filled with music. Songbirds filled the air with their melodious songs, while the forest slowly came to life.

His parents had already left camp, so he had to make his own breakfast. He delicately picked some berries, which burst in his mouth, filling it with flavor. Eric decided to visit the canyon, just on the other side of the lake. As he passed the calm, glistening surface of the lake, he saw his ruddy appearance on the natural mirror. The mountains were his home. His family had dwelt there away from the chaos of the valley below for hundreds of years.

Down in that same chaotic valley, with a cacophony of war, cas-

Prissy From the Pound

One bright summer day my father and I went on an adventure to see a canyon and go canoeing by a waterfall with some friends. My two friends, Lincoln and Ryder, came along with their father. My mother stayed behind with my baby brother. They were going to search for our missing cat who disappeared.

It was very calming as we drifted down the stream. I was overjoyed to escape reality and take a break in my own little paradise. We later arrived by the waterfall, ate lunch, and went to the canyon. The canyon was very beautiful as the sun’s rays made it glisten in the afternoon.

Before we knew it we had to go home. We dropped my friends off at their house. It felt weird driving home, for we just moved into a new house. As we drove homeward my father received a phone call. He answered the phone call from my mother. His voice grew shaky as my mother told him they couldn’t find our cat at the animal shelter. Little did he know there was a new living thing at our house.

When we got home I rushed in to see my two fuzzy companions, as it was a comfort to the loss of my missing cat. I was surprised to see three dogs instead of two. My dad came to say hello to Delta and Deuce. When he found an extra dog he was extremely shocked that my mom didn’t tell him about the small, sickly,

2017 YOUTH CELEBRATION OF WRITING CONTEST

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black coated Chihuahua. My mom told him we would foster the young puppy. If we could help her wounds heal she might be adoptable. Nobody wanted a sickly puppy with a wounded foot.

Animal shelters often can’t spend the time and money to rehabilitate sick and wounded animals.

We later had a naming contest on Facebook. Over one thousand people entered. The winning name was Prissy. My little brother said, “We should name her Nemo because Nemo lost his family, but later found them.” My family thought that was cute, so we named her Prissy Nemo. Now Prissy lives happily with her favorite companion Delta.

EIGHTH GRADE - POETRY Congratulations! We are proud of your accomplishments! Love, Mom, Dad, Lee, Buddy, Sparkles and Arzella Abrielle Carnathan First Place - Poetry Eighth Grade Tupelo Christian Preparatory School

I wonder how it works.

Are you on a team?

A team of readers, writers, judges, authors.

Is it more complicated than it may seem?

Do you ever get bored?

Do you ever get breaks?

Do you ever have to brew a pot of coffee Just to stay awake?

Do you get to laugh?

Do you get to make noise?

Or must you stay prim and proper And certainly, impeccably poised?

I realize that this has turned into Me asking questions that you cannot answer, So, I guess I’ll stop after just one more.

Do you happen to be a dancer?

I get that this could be called creative, And as you know, creativity’s the name of the game.

So, I hope you enjoyed reading it, Even though this poem really is quite lame.

FRIDAY, MAY 12, 2017

It gets hit by the bat And flies through the air Goes over the fence Without a care.

Put on a pedestal For all to see My home run ball Only important to me.

Played with by many Treasured by some Gives us long-lasting memories With more to come.

Nolan! Love, Mom, Dad, Matthew, Adam, Blake and Emily Nolan Guntharp Third Place - Poetry Eighth Grade Tupelo Middle School

We continue to act as if there were no beginning or end I really want to just walk up to you and question everything Everyday I think you might be avoiding the harmonic singing of our tragic story that might never happen again

Fair Park Unconventional Now, I could be conventional, And write a poem about a man.

Ora girl, a king, a queen, An adventurer traveling across the land.

But I’m not very creative And frankly rather lazy.

With any story I might write, The details would be quite hazy.

You completely changed my perspective about what is right All of my beliefs have changed because of the words you fed me But in a weird way my heart cries out with glee So now I only have one question Who am I?

Ty Swindle Second Place - Poetry Eighth Grade Guntown Middle School

So, instead, let’s have a nice conversation.

Pull up a chair, brew a cup of tea.

Let’s have a little chat Together, just you and I, you see.

So, how’s your day going?

And, yes, I know you can’t answer me, But let’s just pretend you can, For the sake of my sanity.

But I digress, are you having fun?

I think it would be bothersome Reading all those works, some good, some bad, And some extremely tiresome.

The Baseball Little white ball With seams of red Nestled in a glove Like a warm cozy bed.

Tossed back and forth From son to dad It can chase away feelings Especially the bad.

Children are here Happy in play At a very hot Time of day.

The old sit Under the sun’s wave Thinking back to the golden days.

Where what stood then Still stands today, Remnants still seen In the modern age.

Because Tupelo’s pride Forever stands In Fair Park’s center Where we honor a man That his hometown still holds dear His music still heard both far and near.

A fountain in which the children stare As water jumps from ground to air If you don’t see the beauty In Tupelo’s ways, Go and watch the children play.

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| FRIDAY, MAY 12, 2017

2017 YOUTH CELEBRATION OF WRITING CONTEST Jessica Lansdell

EIGHTH GRADE - NARRATIVE / ESSAY

Second Place - Narrative/Essay Eighth Grade Guntown Middle School

Alex Blissard First Place - Narrative/Essay Eighth Grade Tupelo Christian Preparatory School

A Life of Adventure

My Fishing Trip

This spring break consisted of going to Gulf Shores for my brother’s baseball tournament. We were going to have a lot of free time between games, so we decided to go deep sea fishing. We had it planned that almost all of the baseball team would be going with us along with their parents. We had room on the boat for eighteen people. Eventually all of the spots were filled, and , when the time came, we headed out. The water was extremely rough that day, but we had a rather large boat, so it was not so bad. We all started fishing and had been catching mainly small fish, even though they made us attach our poles to our waists. It was extremely cold that day, so we had dressed appropriately.

All of a sudden, I felt a huge tug on my line! I immediately began notifying the people around me that I was about to catch a large fish. I looked down at the line, and it stopped. My drag had gotten stuck! Before I knew it I was in the water with who knows how big of a fish with nowhere to go but down. That’s exactly where I went! I went down into the water, and I just knew that this was the end. I was dead. There was no way that I was going to survive this. I glanced down and noticed that I had actually paid attention when the boat guide had fastened the rod to me!

I quickly began retracing the steps that I had seen the guide do.

Soon I was free and started swimming to the light. Just as I was about to break the surface, I felt a tug around my ankle. All the while not being able to breathe, I realized that the line had gotten caught around my ankle and was beginning to pull me into the depths. I quickly reached for my pocket and pulled out my knife. I cut the thick line and was finally free. I swam to the surface, and was almost there, when I awoke from my horrible nightmare. I was still at home in my bed. Spring Break didn’t start for another week. For now, I had my own real-life nightmare to deal with —another week at school.

Congratulations, Eron Hendrix.

We are are so proud of you!

My name is Billy. I was named after my family. The year is 1963.

I am fifty-one years old.

My first owner was on April 10, 1912, the day after I was born.

Rose Dewitt Bukater was my very first owner. I was so happy when the bank gave me to her. She and I went everywhere together. She gave me away on April 11, 1912; She bought herself a a Titanic first class ticket. I haven’t seen Rose since that day, but I heard people saying that the Titanic sank that day, even though it was called the unsinkable ship.

I was in the cash register for fifty-one years. Then, finally I got a new owner on November 20, 1963. His name was Lee Harvey Oswald. He was twenty-four years old. The owner of the gun shop gave him $31 dollars back, and lucky for me I was that one dollar. The next day we were in Dallas, Texas, and he got his Mamlicher-Carlano rifle and shot John F. Kennedy. I fell out of his pocket and a little girl named Jenna found me and tore me apart, and I died on November 22, 1963.

Zach Clifton Third Place - Narrative/Essay Eighth Grade Tupelo Christian Preparatory School

The Sleepover Jeff was just your average kid. He had never expected anything to happen to him. It all started at a friend’s house. His friend’s name was Will. Will had invited Jeff to spend the night at his house during school. After school, Jeff went with Will to his house. They did normal things like playing basketball and watching t.v.

Time flew by and dinner was ready. After they ate, they went upstairs to Will’s room. Will’s parents went to sleep downstairs.

They started to play video games in Will’s room. It was very late at night, but they did not intend on sleeping anytime soon. They were having fun, but they did not expect the turn it would take.

Jeff got up to go to the bathroom, and he decided to look out the window. The only thing he saw was down the street. There was a figure of a man just standing still. The figure appeared to be watching the house. Jeff got a little bit scared, and he called Will over to see. Will looked out the window, but there was nothing there. The kids were creeped out, but they just went back to playing video games. After a while, Jeff looked out the window

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and saw the figure again. This time it was in front of the house watching Jeff. Will saw it too. They ran downstairs and made sure all of the doors were locked.

The kids were too scared to stay up any later and went to bed.

They woke up to the sound of Will’s parents screaming. Then there was silence. They heard footsteps on the stairs and knew they were next. They locked the bedroom door. Both of them hid under the bed. They heard the door slam open. Jeff had already called 911, and they were waiting for the police to arrive. They kids had a plan. Both of them rolled out and tackled the man.

They ran outside and locked themselves in the car. The man walked outside. He broke the car window and was reaching for them. The police sirens were the best sounds Jeff and Will had ever heard.

The kids were safe for now.

NINTH GRADE - POETRY Maddie West First Place - Poetry Ninth Grade Tupelo High School

America We All Bleed Red Yes, indeed it is the truth No matter what anyone said, There is vital proof Things are said; Things to separate this society, Things are said; Things to create much fear and anxiety “Certain lives matter,” “Feminists rise up,” These statements shatter All they do is corrupt “Love is Love,” “It’s the woman’s choice with a life,” In our faces, these ideas are shoved; They cut through us like a knife What qualities create these categories?

The pigments of our skin?

Everyone gets caught in quarries, When can it just be El Fin There has been so much pain Loved ones have been lost, People have gone insane But at what cost?

2017 YOUTH CELEBRATION OF WRITING CONTEST

DAILY JOURNAL

FRIDAY, MAY 12, 2017

Every person is the same Though Pigments differ, And they don’t have the same name But look deep in the mirror

Or is it something That everyone — Yes, everyone— Has to offer.

Because of these things insecurities dwell Everything is so confusing to me.

Oh how this makes me want to yell.

And all I wanna know is who to be.

You and I come from different families, You and I have different morals, You and I have had great calamities But You and I are common mortals

Is it a kind word, A hug, or even a high five Designed to make someone smile?

I’m tired of changing who I am.

All I want is to freely be me.

So I’m through with pleasing.

NO more changing.

America has many cultures Some with wrong actions; some with right Separation of society poachers Everything we have built so tight

And is that simple smile Any less powerful Than a lecture on kindness and love?

Or is it more powerful?

Is it not magic For someone To pull someone off the brink Simply by saying hello?

Behind electronics we see A place so lost; All they want to be Is loved without a cost We are different in ways Indeed, some are real and some are frauds, But the one thing remains; We are One nation under God

Taylor Chapman Second Place - Poetry Ninth Grade Tupelo High School

Magic What is magic?

Is it the sparkling, Scintillating smoke We see in the movies?

The look of delight Sparkling in a child’s eye, Or the simple compassion Of a friend’s arm around another.

Is is something That only a few Can have?

For once I know what to do.

I finally know who to be.

No not you, But forever me.

NINTH GRADE - NARRATIVE / ESSAY

Can anyone truly say, “Magic is not real,” If they looked in a child’s eyes And saw the wonder and excitement Shining there?

Riley Grace Hawkins First Place - Narrative/Essay Ninth Grade Mooreville High School

Has anyone truly thought About how children — Who need a reason for everything — Accept magic as real Without any proof?

If you— Yes, you— Went outside Or across the room And helped someone With a simple word or two, Can you describe the feeling that comes As anything less than magic?

Bree Todd

Is it something That we Humans Have no hope Of understanding?

Or is it something much simpler?

A simple breath of wind, Or a mighty storm?

A child’s laugh Or someone saying “I do.”

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Third Place - Poetry Ninth Grade Tupelo High School

Who to Be I’m not supposed to be you, I can’t be me.

What am I supposed to do?

I don’t know who to be.

They say I’m trying to copy them.

But laugh when I show who I really am.

Wrong shoes, wrong shirts, wrong everything It seems like I’m always being told to change.

Code Blue

“Lydia! Lydia!” the hospital staff yells in my ear. What’s going on?

Where am I? Where’s my family? These thoughts run through my head.

I couldn’t move, I couldn’t see, I could only hear whatever was said. The pitter-patter of footsteps came into the room. A man, I thought, hopefully someone I knew. He was talking to a nurse.

“It’s been two months, no movement, no response, nothing!” he says with anger wavering in his voice.

“She was in a tragic accident, doctor. You can not expect her to hop right back up. Now, can you?” the nurse questioned him. He sighed and slammed the door behind him.

“We are going to fix this. We are not going to let this happen to you,” a familiar voice whispered in my ear. Thoughts replayed through my mind trying to figure out what could have happened.

I remember my friend yelling, “Lydia, you have to come check this out!”

Everything after that was fuzzy. I dozed off into a light sleep. Flashbacks began to occur. I was sprinting into a tunnel, behind me was a man. I woke up to the sound of a machine beeping. “She had a flashback!

Inject the serum!” the same man said, but this time his voice was shaky.

The numbness shot through my hand down to my toes. My thoughts can to an abrupt halt. I perked up in a matter of seconds, but this time I could observe the room. My eyes were open although my brain was obsolete. Every time I acknowledged something new in the room, my brain couldn’t comprehend it. It was as if my brain had an on-and-off button and someone switched it off. A noise caught my attention. It was not in the room but inside my head. I just ignored it and finished observing the room. The more I overlooked the noise the more powerful it got. It was not as if someone was trying to brainwash me, but the noise had a sympathetic feeling, similar to being in the same room as the person talking to me.

I could communicate with them for hours at a time without actually conversing. I knew the individual, who was trying to help, was connected to me in a special way. I could not quite grasp it. My thoughts began totake over. Lydia, you must be going insane. Voices do not just pop up

| FRIDAY, MAY 12, 2017

in people’s heads.

Sitting at a receptionist’s desk in Wichita, Kansas, a twenty-six year old woman was experiencing a headache so profound she knew she had to ask to go home. Her head pounded like the sledge hammer in the “John Henry” song she heard when she was a kid. Her boss saw her with her head pushed against the desk and both hands around the front of her cranium. The headache was like no other she had ever experienced, but also there were voices. Along with the voices was a vision of a cloudy room that looked like a hospital room. A nurse was saying something.

She could see her mouth moving, but no sound was emanating. She was thinking that she must be going insane. She began chanting in her head, “I am Hannah Yates. I am twenty-six, and I am sane. I am Hannah Yates. I am twenty-six, and I am sane.” Suddenly the other voice in her head replied. “I am Lydia Welch, and I am twenty-six.” Hannah felt every ounce of pain Lydia was receiving. She willed her to live. She willed her to fight for her life.

With more clarity than before, I realized that I was on death’s door. I knew then that I must bring myself back. The intercom in the background was sounding “Code Blue.” In the back of my mind, the voice was telling me to fight. The voice told me I had work to do in this world.

The nurse entered the room again to check my blood pressure and heart rate. As she exited the room, I heard the tone in her voice change as she yelled for the doctor to come inspect the issue. Miraculously, I was stabilizing. The doctor was in awe. Within six hours, my eyes were focusing, and I was lucid once again. Another week passed by before I was able to leave. While the voice in my head had disappeared, the voice in Hannah’s had not. Hannah had witnessed the entire recovery, an event so moving that it had prompted Hannah to fly from Kansas to the hospital in Nashville, TN, where she met her twin sister, me, for the first time.

Kara Hays Second Place - Narrative/Essay Ninth Grade Mooreville High School

The Lost Mission The wall screeched as I dug yet another tally mark into it. It is now my 748th tally mark, my 748th day away from Earth. I rolled my chair to my computer desk and began to type my message for the people of Earth. My fingers ran smoothly across the cold keyboard as I typed.

“Hopefully if you are reading this message, you will send help as soon as possible. It’s quite lonely in vast space if I say so myself. This is Mike Dawson, the lost astronaut, reporting from Space Shuttle X78.” As I pressed send, my heart was full of hope. I wished that the satellite would transport my message to the NASA Headquarters. This is my last and only option I have at returning home to my family.

If my message is received, it might come as quite a shock to the world considering they believe that I’m dead. You see, over two years ago Space Shuttle X78 suffered a terrible gas leak, and the ship exploded into two different sides. My crew was luckily on the side of the ship where the emergency shuttle was located. They were able to escape as I was left to spend the remainder of my life in space, alone. I still remember every detail of that fateful day as if it were yesterday.

It was a normal day, just as every usual day we had aboard the ship.

Every morning we had a routine discussion on the well being of the ship

2017 YOUTH CELEBRATION OF WRITING CONTEST and all of its functions. “Alright crew, let’s get started!” I said as we all sat down at the table. “Any malfunctions in the ship’s engines, Mark?”

“Well, there is a slight irregularity in Engine 51, but all other engines are in full function,” Mark stated. “I’ve been inspecting it for over two weeks now, and it seems to be a small glitch, nothing serious.” Little did we know that it was no small glitch, but it would soon cause a massive explosion. Engine 51 had been having slight increases in gas levels that we had been monitoring. Though the gas levels increased, we seemed to have no problems that occurred.

Later that afternoon, as we were doing our everyday chores, I started to feel light vibrations under my feet. As I turned around to look for any problems, I noticed cups and dishes on the counter beginning to slide off onto the floor. Through the sounds of dishes shattering, I managed to hear a ring coming from the intercom. I quickly dashed to the intercom and placed my hand on the button to answer.

“Mike, Mike, are you there?” Betty called out in a quivering tone. I could immediately tell that something was wrong.

“I’m here,” I stated. “What’s wrong?”

“Mark picked up an irregularity in Engine 51,” Betty managed to squeak out. “The gas levels are rising, and they’re not stop….” Betty was cut off by an ear shattering screech. No less than a second later a booming creak, the sound of metal bending, was heard throughout the ship. The creak was followed by a loud burst. Before I knew it, I was blown off of my feet and sent crashing into the wall as if I were a lifeless doll. The blow to the wall knocked me unconscious, and I lay there in a daze.

As I slowly regained consciousness, I looked around and saw that pieces of furniture were broken and cabinets were shattered. I looked up to the ceiling to find that the shut down lights were on. The shutdown lights, when activated, meant that a action of the ship had been sealed off due to a tear on the outer extremities of the ship. The doors kept the oxygen inside the ship from leaking out. I then knew that I was now cut off from the remaining half of the ship, cut off from my crew.

I pushed my arms out from under me and tried to lift my now frail body from the ground. My attempts at moving myself had failed, and my next instinct was to crawl. I knew I had to find a way to see if the emergency escape shuttle was reachable and still intact. I crawled across the floor, pushing debris out of my way. I felt as if I were a serpent sliding across the jungle floor.

I managed to reach a window that looked over the second half of the ship and there I saw my crew. Both Mark and Betty were inside the escape shuttle that I was blocked from. Though I had no way of getting to the shuttle, I just knew they would come for me and find a way to save me. I looked to the right of me and saw where the ship had exploded. Debris was floating in every direction. Luckily, the part of the ship that exploded was the unnecessary side of the ship. I then turned and saw the escape shuttle being launched. As it was launched, I noticed that the shuttle was already in route, but it was in route in the opposite direction of where I was. The ship was in route for Earth In that moment I realized that my very own crew, my friends, were leaving me to die.

I frantically threw my fist to the glass and began to pound. I screamed to the fullest of my capability. “No, no! Come back. Don’t leave me here! You can’t do this! Please, please!” I fell to my knows as I saw the shuttle leaving my sight. As I slumped down the wall, I broke into a desperate cry. With tears streaming down my face, I pleaded, “Please don’t leave me here to die.” I continued to sob for hours. Looking back on my actions, I now realize screaming and pounding my fist against the glass was a childish move, but they were just my emotions bursting from within. As I laid against the wall I finally realized that I could no longer pity myself. I would survive and return to Earth to see my family. I picked myself up and began to go through all the necessities I needed to survive. The food supply that I was left with would last me four more years,

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and the oxygen tanks would last five.

It has been almost two years since then. My food supply will now only last two years, and the oxygen will last three. My goal is to not have to begin rationing my food, but soon it might be my only option. I’ve been alone now for quite some time, waiting for a sign that someone knows I’m alive. There have been no signs. I have been staring at my computer screen for hours now.

Every five minutes I drag the mouse to the refresh button and click down on the mouse, but no new message have arrived. I remember watching movies when I was a kid where a sailor shipwrecked and was started on a deserted island. No matter how bad the situation was, at the end of the movie the sailor was always rescued. That is my one desire. I would give anything to be like the sailor, to be rescued. My eyelids felt heavy, and they weighed down on my face. I laid back into my chair and dozed off to sleep.

I was awakened by a luminescent light. I rose from my chair, flailed my arms, and let out a roaring yawn. My eyes adjusted, and I realized the bright light was my computer screen. I quickly drew my hand to my mouse and opened the satellite transactions. I refreshed the screen, and my heart stopped beating. I plopped to the floor, and my face fell into my hands. I glanced back to the screen to see if what I saw was true.

The message read, “This is the head commissioner of NASA, Drew Kent.

We have received your message and plan on sending a rescue shuttle as soon as possible. The mission will take approximately six to eight months, but I assure you we will retrieve you and bring you home safely.”

I sat in the floor releasing my days of being alone would soon be over, and I wept.

Laura Thompson Third Place - Narrative/Essay Ninth Grade Tupelo High School

Rhyland

Rhyland was dead, and nothing was going to change that. Ash sat down in the middle of the dark and empty hallway of Belmont Grove High School and stared at the rusted lockers, filled with God knows what, and as the bell rang to change classes, she remained sitting. Tears rolling down her face, not violently but subtle, one tear after another fell down her cheek and landed on her ragged ACDC shirt. Memories flooded in almost as if a movie was playing. No one else mattered to her except Rhyland as she recalled the last spontaneous road trip they took.

He drove most of the way, but never said anything about how she broke their agreement to split the miles between them and the Grand Canyon. He never bothered to wake her up. Rhyland thought it was strangely peaceful when Ash slept. It was definitely a drastic change from her usual outgoing and loud character. She acted as if she could never be satisfied, which worried Rhyland to the core. He knew he would never be good enough for her and that eventually Ash would get tired of the shy and introverted character of his. Ash always seemed to be daydreaming and then all of a sudden she would spew random thoughts, and Rhyland always seemed to go along with it. “Rhy, there are 7.125 billion people in this world and each of the spent the last 23 hours 55 minutes and 4 seconds differently.” Rhyland just stared into her hazel eyes. The brown ring around her pupil always caught his attention. That was another thing about Ash, she was crazy smart. At

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any given moment she could tell you a piece of useless information just like Rhyland always fit a pun or a joke into everything you said. They argued over the stupidest things like whether pancakes were better than waffles. Ash claimed waffles always soaked in the syrup way too fast with their devious little pockets. They fought over whether she could make her own chapstick from the ingredients listed on the back of hers. Rhyland was convinced she would die with candy cane chapstick smeared on her lips. All of a sudden Ash snapped out of her daydream.

The counselor, surrounded by a bun of other people she had never seen before, was crouched down in front of her. “Ash, why don’t we go into my office and talk about what happened?” Ash hated the idea of therapists and counselors. Why get someone else to listen to you talk for an hour, give you crappy advice, take your money, and then proceed to send you off with a prescription for expensive antidepressants?

Nonetheless, she followed Mrs. Grove into her office and proceeded to talk for the rest of the school day. Ash’s parents had to convince her to go to the funeral. It was sad like all others, but Ash never bothered to figure out how he died. It was said and done with. She never thought of Rhyland as a very secretive person. He always said what he was thinking and was constantly talking about crazy ideas he had. “He could have conquered the world someday you know, but I think it’s important to note all that he did in his short seventeen years. He managed to make All State every year for orchestra even though we all knew he never practiced. I bet he read five hundred books, which is way more than I’ll ever read. He made everyone’s day so much better even if he was in a bad mood too. He would listen to you complain about everything under the sun and offer you a joke to make you feel better. Rhy—.” Her speech came to an abrupt stop as she stared down the aisle of people with her mouth still slightly open from talking. The audience turned to see three men dressed in seemingly very expensive tuxes. “Ma’am, I’m going to need you to come with us.” Ash knew it was about Rhyland and reluctantly followed the men.

Ash ended up at the police station in a poorly lit investigation room containing only her, the detective, a glass of water, and a small handheld recorder. Honestly, it was quite cliche. Ash had been in here for at least an hour and so far nothing had happened. “So besides the fact that he had leukemia for at least a month do y—?” Ash didn’t hear the rest of the question. She was still stuck on the fact that Rhyland had leukemia for a month or possibly even more, and he didn’t even bother to tell her. She knew Rhyland would want her to keep living her life to the fullest, but these days it kept getting harder and harder to smile.

It had been a week since she was crying in the hallway, and she hadn’t felt any different. Life went on, and she would always have Rhyland in her heart. Each time she said that to herself it sounded more cliche than the last. It had only been a week and a half from the news, and it was hard to say she forgot, actually quite the opposite. Every little thing reminded her of Rhyland, and she always thought about the what-ifs. What if they could have gone to the Grand Canyon one last time, or even somewhere else.

“Ash…” There was only one voice Ash knew as rustic and scratchy as that. She slowly turned around, not knowing who or what to expect.

“Rhyland…”

2017 YOUTH CELEBRATION OF WRITING CONTEST

FRIDAY, MAY 12, 2017

Arneshia Clayton

TENTH GRADE - POETRY

Second Place - Poetry Tenth Grade Shannon High School

Luke Overton First Place - Poetry Tenth Grade Tupelo High School

My Childhood No real worries and no everyday cares.

Losing things that come in pairs.

Going to daycare and learning to count.

Leaving recess always made me pout.

What to eat and what to watch on TV. Spending weekends in the big RV. .

Playing with my friends in the neighborhood.

Riding bikes and hide and seek was always good Celebrating birthdays with my closest friends.

These parties are things I never wanted to end.

Waiting for Christmas to roll around.

Seeing my presents makes me jump up and down.

Watching my favorite shows until I had to go to sleep.

Soon I would be in my bed counting sheep.

Society Lies You said I gained too much weight So, I say a perfect body I shall create First I’ll start with one pound But by the time it’s through It can’t be enough, so let’s push for two Two pounds leave but you’re still not pleased So, I say let’s shoot for three Pound after pound I shed, but you yearn for more So what’s the harm, my next goal is four Four turns to eight, but you still complain Even though I haven’t ate The numbers all double And I know I’m in trouble As I’m starving I see my future I hear the funeral playing my song I see you standing there smirking This has been your plan all along I woke up and started to scream I sigh in relief because it was a dream I jump to my feet heading out the door On my way to eat, I hear you say stop Only forty more pounds left to drop You jump onto billboards, local signs, and more Smiling, posing, drinking, but your attempts fail As I keep walking No longer will I be a victim By society’s pressured image of women I enjoy the sweet taste of freedom As I finally realized I only starved from society’s lies

On Halloween, getting a good costume was always fun, But I always loved getting candy by the dozen.

Getting out of school during summer.

Ethan Benefield Third Place - Poetry Tenth Grade Saltillo High School

It was always bummer when it was over.

Although I could not stay young forever, Forgetting this time is something I’ll do never.

Unique I am a special clover A clover never picked You would look right past me If so you would be tricked.

I am the only four leaf clover That, I am for sure Everyone else has just three leaves Yet I have many more

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| FRIDAY, MAY 12, 2017 I’m supposed to bring good luck That’s what the ancients say But people walk right past me They walk by me everyday If you’re having bad luck Try and look for me I am the only lucky one That’s how it’s supposed to be So when you come and search around Look hard and you will see I am a special four leaf clover I’m different, I’m unique

TENTH GRADE - NARRATIVE / ESSAY Katie Hays First Place - Narrative/Essay Tenth Grade Mooreville High School

A Day to Remember

Today was the day most of us had been looking forward to the past few months. Today was supposed to be a day of new beginnings. We knew that the new school and town hall ceremony would be beautiful and that it would bring joy to many people of this small town, but for those of us who were there and lived through it, today was a sad day. It was a day of mourning, and a day that would resurface some of the most tragic moments of our lives. “Rise and shine, sweetheart! The tardy bell will ring at school in about thirty minutes!” shouted my mom. Her voice echoed through my tired mind. I was the Friday before Spring Break, and all I wanted to do was stay in bed. I had begged my mother the night before to let me stay home, but she insisted that I try my hardest to keep my perfect attendance record. I drug myself into the shower and let the cold water splash on my face to was the sleep out of my eyes. I quickly got out of the shower and slipped into a pair of leggings and a t-shirt. As I headed out the door, my mom kissed me on the forehead, told me she loved me, and handed me my rain jacket. “It looks like the weather may get a little nasty today, so be careful on the roads when you head home,” said my mother as she ushered me out the back door.

First block was Driver’s Education, and since it was raining outside, we weren’t allowed to drive. So we had to watch boring instructional videos all morning. After break, I trudged to English barely able to keep my eyes open. Halfway through writing my essay on The Great Gatsby, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. My body was alerting me that something was coming, but I could never guessed it would be as tragic as it was. All at once, the tornado sirens started blaring. All of my panicked tenth grade classmates and I raced for the door, not following the standard single file line protocol. Our principal was running through the hallways screaming, “THIS IS NOT A DRILL” as if he wanted the next town over to hear him. We knew that this would be a waiting game.

The tornado would strike, but there was nothing we could do about it.

Outside, the rain came to a stop and everything sat still, but not for long.

2017 YOUTH CELEBRATION OF WRITING CONTEST As a child, I loved to be stopped by trains because I loved the sound they made. It was so loud and powerful, but in this moment when I heard what sounded like a train, I feared for my life and everyone surrounding me because it could only mean one thing. This was not a drill.

A tornado was bearing down on us and all of the years of grumbling about tornado drills would actually have to be put to use. In an instant, my life was altered. First came the doors, flying off their hinges and being pulled into the sky. Then the ceiling tiles started to rumble as if they were the waves of an ocean. All at once the bolts started popping and before we knew it we were staring at the vast sky, which now looked like staring down a dark hole. The wind was a crushing force. I could fee my ears popping what seemed like every few seconds. We could hear the walls falling around us. Little bits of the heavy cinder block fell on top of us along with parts of the ceiling. It truly felt as if the sky was falling on top of us. The screams echoed throughout the howling winds. Some screams that would never again be heard.

I don’t remember much about the following days. My mom tells me the doctors kept most of us sedated in order to give our bodies time to heal before we had to come to terms with reality. The day the doctors told me I could go home was one of the worst of my life as my mother had to tell me that we didn’t have a home to return to. I later got the report that the tornado stayed on the ground for three miles and was one mile wide. Without even going back to my town, I knew that there would not be anything left. Two weeks after the devastating tornado, the official death toll was released. For a town with a population of only 2,000, losing forty of them was devastating. Later when they released the names, I learned that twenty-two of the deceased were students at my high school, people I walked past every day. Yet, I would never see them again. The town along with everyone in it was devastated.

Today was supposed to be a day dedicated to the idea of hope. Today was supposed to be a day to celebrate how far we have come and how we came together as a community. In a sense, it was. We all gained a little bit of closure. But that day, the sounds we heard, and the things that we saw will forever be in the back of our minds.

Katelynn Reich Second Place - Narrative/Essay Tenth Grade Mooreville High School

Selfish Sitting on the brown couch, I stare at the woman across the room. I know her. She has always been a part of my life. She is the one who made my life unstable and even miserable. Deep down inside I know that I love her, but on the surface I show no emotion because I know that the first one she sees, she will use it against me. It’s what she does.

She manipulates people into doing things they don’t want to do. It’s how she has kept me around this long, but no more. Not today. Today is the day that I will escape this woman and all the pain, torture, and manipulation that she uses as her weapons.

Today is the day that I will escape my mother.

“Why are you doing this, Mariah?” she asks me, her voice filled with pain as if she cares. It’s a lie, and I know it. It isn’t the first time that she’s lied to me. She’s fake crying to stop me from doing this. Just like I used to fake cry t to get her to stop hitting me.

“Because Mother, I’m tired of this. I don’t want to move again. I don’t want to change schools again. I don’t want to have to make new

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friends again. I’m tired of living this way. You can’t change my mind. I’ve already decided that I’m going to move in with my dad, Trevor, and Sandra. Dad said that it was okay if I move in with him, and I’ve already got everything packed,” I told her. I never wanted to have this conversation, but I knew that it had to be done. I know that her tears aren’t real, but this time, mine are.

I don’t want to leave Hannah because she’s my only baby sister, but everything that I’ve ever done was for her and this time it’s my turn to be selfish, just this once. I need to do this one thing for myself. I have to get out of this life of chaos, drugs, and dangerous people. I know that if I stay here then I won’t make it, so I need to leave. I won’t survive if I don’t.

She continues to cry. “Okay” is all she says. I hear dogs barking. I get up and walk over to the window. A white truck with a trailer is pulling into the gravel driveway. Inside the truck is my dad, brother, and stepmother. My new family. I walk out the door to greet them. Although it’s September, the air still feels warm.

“Hey,” I greet them as they get out of the vehicle.

“Hey,” my dad replies as my brother Trevor gives me a hug.

“Do you have all of your stuff together?” asks my stepmom, Sandra, clearly ready to end this entire process. Like me, she seems to know it’s going to be a long day.

“I do,” I reassure her. “I guess now all we have to do is load it up.” It doesn’t feel real. I’ve been wanting this for so long, and now it’s finally happening.

After we finish loading all of my belongings onto the trailer, I watch my new family get back into the white truck that came to my rescue. As they pull out of the driveway, I jump into the black Jeep with my younger sister, Hannah, and my mother. We follow the white truck to my new house that would soon become something that I’ve never had before, a home.

In the backseat of the Jeep my sister and best friend, Hannah, reaches over and grabs my hand as if to reassure me that it’s okay that I’m going to leave her. When she does that, my heart slowly starts to break, and I feel the warm tears slowly run down my cheeks. I can’t help but to look at the little girl that I dedicated my life to protecting. She was crying, too. How can I do this to her? How can I just leave her with the woman who has brought us so much pain? I can’t back out now, but who’s going to protect her when I’m gone? Just this once I have to be selfish, even if it is at Hannah’s expense. I can’t believe I’m going to do this to her.

I dry my tears as we reach our destination. There’s a red-brick house that seems rather small in contrast to the large hill that it’s sitting on.

The feeling that I endure upon seeing this house is different than the dread that I felt upon seeing all of the other places that I’ve lived. This is a good feeling. For the first time in a long time, I feel hope, and I know that it’s just a house, but to me it could be considered a castle. I’ll admit that it didn’t look like much, but I knew that it was going to become so much more to me.

After unpacking all of my belongings, I walk out of my new bedroom to say goodbye to my mother and my sister. My mother is crying, but Hannah isn’t. She has her brave face on, and I know that she’s doing it for me. My heart breaks, but I don’t cry for the same reason that she doesn’t. I have to be brave, too. I can’t fall apart now because I’ve already made it too far.

I hug my mother first. “Goodbye. I love you so much. No matter what you decide,” she tells me through her tears that I’m pretty sure are real this time. I feel my heart contract and my eyes burn from holding back the tears, but I know that this isn’t the hard part.

“I know,” I tell her. “I love you, too.” I turn to Hannah. This is going to be the hard part. She is still wearing that brave face. I know that she won’t cry, but, like me, I’m sure she wants to.

Wrapping my arms around her I whisper, “I love you so much.” She

2017 YOUTH CELEBRATION OF WRITING CONTEST

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“I love you, too,” she whispers back. “Promise me something.”

“Anything,” I tell her.

“Promise me that you’ll be happy here,” she says, and I can hear the pain in her voice. My heart feels like it’s shattering into a million pieces.

“I promise,” I reassure her trying not to cry.

When we all say our goodbyes, my mom and Hannah enter the black Jeep and leave. Holding back the tears, I watch them as they go. I know that I will get over this. I know that I will heal, but I feel like there is a hole in my chest where Hannah is supposed to be.

Today, I lost myself because I lost Hannah. Today, I saved myself because I lost my mother. Today, I was selfish.

Emma Atkinson Third Place - Narrative/Essay Tenth Grade Tupelo High School

Irony The Ole Miss alarm clock vibrated against the wooden dresser and let out several high-pitched beeps. Its persistent beeping repeatedly echoed throughout the house, startling Clark and waking him up.

“Mom!” shouted Clark, “MOOMMMM!!!”

Clark eagerly reached for the first pair of pants that he spotted on his pigsty of a floor when his mom walked in. At the sight of his room, Clarks’ mom let out an exasperated gasp.

“It looks like a bomb went off in here. What do you need?” she demanded.

“It is almost 6:45,” Clark said as he threw an Ole Miss jersey over his head, “ I have to catch the bus in ten minutes.”

“I will find our backpack. You better hurry up!” yelled Clark’s mom.

Clark dashed out of his room to the bathroom. Between his mouthful of toothpaste and attempt to brush his teeth while finding a matching pair of socks, Clark reached over the kitchen counter for his permission slip. If he missed the bus this morning, he would not make it to school and would miss the school’s field trip to the men’s Ole Miss basketball game. His father played on the team, and Clark forever admired it.

“I’m leaving!” Clark yelled to his mom upstairs, “See you later!”

“Not so fast! Here’s your backpack,” shouted his mom from the top step. Although she tried to toss the backpack down the stairs to Clark, she missed his extended hand by a mile.

Clark snatched up his backpack off of the floor and darted to the end of the street, coming to a halt a few feet in front of the stop sign. He flicked his wrist to make his watch face the right way, unsure of what time it was. The digital numbering read 6:45.

“Right on time,” Clark murmured under his breath.

Not even ten seconds after, the sun-colored school bus whipped around the curb and let out a shriek as it braked. The monstrous wheels missed Clark’s toes by a few centimeters, sending a chill down his spine. Clark impatiently leaped up the stairs of the bus, but his untied laces on his shoes got caught under his feet and tripped him. His cheeks flushed with a vibrant red. Thankfully none of his classmates witnessed this embarrassment. Beads of sweat collected on Clark’s forehead from the rush of the morning as he stared out of the window into the blur of town.

At 7:30 the bus’s roaring discontinued, and Clark’s eyes gradually opened as his head bobbed up and down. All of the other students had already vacated the bus, so Clark slung his backpack over his shoulders and charged for homeroom. His mind was racing with thoughts of excitement about the basketball game. Clark dreaded Algebra II, but thanks to the field trip he would not have to attend class. On the way to homeroom, Clark spotted his best friend Sam out of the corner of his eye.

“Ready for the game, Clark?” asked Sam. “Yea, bro, I’m pumped. I have not been this excited about school since the day we got out early in second grade because of the snowstorm.”

Clark beamed.

The two were sprinting to homeroom when a teacher on hallway duty hollered, “Hey! No running in the halls!”

Clark and Sam burst out laughing and kept running anyway. Teachers tried to yell at them to slow down, but it was hopeless. The boys shot between students like cheetahs until they were a few yards in front of Mrs. Scott’s room, their homeroom teacher, and resumed walking. When they reached her door, they were still panting from exhaustion.

“Permission slips, boys?” asked Mrs. Scott as she extended out her hand.

“Yea, give me a second,” Clark said through uneven breaths.

Clark reached for the front pocket of his backpack to get out his permission slip. At first, Clark could not feel anything but old gum wrappers in the pocket. He set his backpack down on the ground and rustled through his backpack. A slight panic consumed him, and he started to think of other places that it could be. Once he realized where his permission slip was, Clark’s face turned white as snow. He knew without a doubt he left it at the bottom of the stairs when he picked up his backpack this morning.

“Oh no,” Clark whispered. “Oh no.”

“Clark, have you found your permission slip?” asked Mrs. Scott.

“No, I think I left it at home. Can I run to the office and call my mom so she can bring it to me before we leave?” Clark asked.

“Sure, but be quick,” Mrs. Scott commanded as she rolled her eyes.

On the way to the school office, Clark tried to come up with lies to tell his mom about how he left it at the house so that she would not be furious when he asked her to bring it to him. But suddenly, Clark remembered that two days earlier, his mom said that she would be taking early morning shifts at the hospital from now on.

A pang of disappointment hit Clark’s chest. Without his permission slip, there was no way he was going to see his favorite basketball team play or get out of Algebra II. He dilly-dallied around the halls to avoid going back to homeroom.

Because he did not have a permission slip, he was forced to sit in the principal’s office all day. Once the school bell rang at 3:20, Clark ran faster than he ever had in his life. He hopped onto the school bus waiting outside and tried to take his mind off of his day at school. When the bus stopped on his street, Clark slumped his shoulders and dragged himself home. Clark pulled his house key out of his pocket and unlocked the front door. His mom was waiting for him in the kitchen, preparing supper.

“How was the trip?” she asked.

“I didn’t get to go,” Clark slurred.

“What do you mean you didn’t get to go?” his mom asked. “I saw that you left your permission slip at home, so I dropped it off in the office. I assumed you would pick it up when you got there.”

Clark was walking upstairs to his bedroom when his mother’s words registered in his mind. He felt defeated and hung his head in disbelief.

FRIDAY, MAY 12, 2017

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ELEVENTH GRADE - POETRY Ke’Anbris Gates First Place - Poetry Eleventh Grade Saltillo High School

Do Crips Know Santa All around madness hails Mentioning shells, we talking heaters, no Velveeta The ambulances shine brighter than smiles Bodies line up roads for miles.

Knowing that lobsters are red While oceans flow blue In Compton, even Chicago, you’ll have to choose The time comes around, which are you?

We see it all over the news The violent acts that overwhelm majority with gloom No one ever stops, to question the chaos Judgement and jail only act as more shots.

But why? Why do colors define us?

In a cloth we pledge and put in all of our trust Only to take God out of prayers and from everything around The colors red and blue cause symphonies played by orchestras of gun sounds.

In a country full of darkness and hypocrites True motives, peace, and justice will never be shown Sad to say, it’s not even safe at home.

Santa went to Long Beach from the North Pole He was drenched in even more red As he lay stiff in the cold Because the boys in blue, snatched the jolly from his soul.

| FRIDAY, MAY 12, 2017

2017 YOUTH CELEBRATION OF WRITING CONTEST

Austin Owen

Emma Rae Leathers

Second Place - Poetry Eleventh Grade Mooreville High School

Third Place - Poetry Eleventh Grade Tupelo High School

What If?

My Grandmother’s Advice

People have always disagreed That is how the world needs to be.

If every person’s view was the same, What’s the point of having your own name?

It cannot be helped that we are not alike; but that doesn’t mean we have to fight.

When cruising around always wear your seatbelt Get three scoops of ice cream although it may melt

If you pick red but I pick blueWhat are we supposed to do?

What if, instead of standing our ground, We work together so an answer can be found?

What if, instead of escalating to violence, We took time to talk and sat in silence?

And instead of jumping and screaming and yelling, We listened to the other side, it might be compelling!

Do not chase others, let them follow you Take the long way home and enjoy the view Always tell your friends, “I love you, good night” Read every possible book an author could write Go for a walk with no end destination Take a few deep breaths; learn how to be patient Admire the flowers, do not take them with you Dance, love, share, paint, and laugh too Forget your umbrella and dance to the rain And never, ever, ever complain

What if, instead of going to war, Our leaders met with an open floor?

What if, all the people whose job it is to govern, Would just take a minute and listen to one another?

Forgive and learn, but do not repeat Smile at every stranger you greet Find peace in your past and who you are Always be hopeful and wish on a star

What if, instead of black and white We, the people, focused on what is right?

What if, instead of discrimination, We join together to form a better nation?

What if, instead of constant pain, We formed a plan for mutual gain?

What if, instead of annihilation, We formed new bonds of cooperation?

Meet someone new and do not be shy Set goals for yourself, make sure to aim high

ELEVENTH GRADE - NARRATIVE / ESSAY Logan Donaldson

What if, instead of calling names, We found new ways to gain our fame?

What if, instead of dragging people down, We built them up; how does that sound?

First Place - Narrative/Essay Eleventh Grade Shannon High School

What if we stopped all of this?

Now, I know what you’re thinking, “I don’t see how” The answer is really quite simple, you see, What if we all just learned to disagree?

Bill’s Life Once upon a time there was a boy named Bill, and he was almost 18years-old. He had a very big heart and loved his families very much. He had two brothers - the older one named Layton and the younger one, Jacob - and one sister named Zoe on his mom’s side. On his dad’s side he and two younger sisters - one named Nicole and one named Vanessa. Bill was not really good at school, but he would still try. He would get all C’s in school every year. Bill would do everything with his mom. They would go shopping around 1:00 a.m. on Saturdays when

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everyone else was asleep. This was also the best time because his mom was used to being up late since she worked third shift.

When he turned fifteen, his life changed. He would not go to the store as much with his mom. He would only be around her in the day, and when it was night time, there was a different Bill. He would go to parties when his mom left for work. When he was at the parties, he would drink and smoke with all his friends. His mom felt he was acting different but didn’t want to say anything because she trusted him and never considered he would do drugs. So she let it go an never questioned it.

Bill got to the point where he would smoke and drink every day. After about a month of him doing this, he found out that both of his brothers were doing the same things. With Bill knowing this, they all hung out more than ever and became closer to each other. They would go to the store a lot, and they would steal things like car radios, games, and accessories for their game consoles. One day when Bill’s older brother went to work, he got pulled into the office where there was a police officer waiting. Bill’s older brother was caught stealing on camera. He had to go to court to pay a fine and serve a week in jail. Bill hated the fact that his older brother was in jail. It was also at this time he found out where his dad had been for the past eleven years. When this happened, Bill started to smoke even more.

One day when he was walking home with his younger brother from the park, they decided to smoke when a cop pulled up and stopped them.

They are then put in the back of the cop car and sent home. They were placed on house arrest until their court date. While they sat at home, they would smoke and play games. This was the first time that Bill’s mom found out that he smoked. She was crushed.

When Bill and Jacob went to court, they were sentenced a year in the Juvenile Detention Center. While they were at JDC, they were in a cell by themselves for twenty hours a day. The only time they were allowed out of the cell was to eat, to go to church, and for their recreation outside. While in the cell, all they could do was read, walk around the 10x10 cell, or workout doing push-ups and sit-ups. Bill and Jacob were released early for good behavior. Instead of them doing twelve months, they only served eight months.

When Bill was released, he was almost 18. He tried to make his life better by getting a job but nobody would hire him because he was in JDC. Bill then decided to contact his dad and talk to him about moving in with him. After about a week of Bill talking to his dad, he finally agreed to let Bill live with him. Within a week, his dad arrived to take Bill home with him. As Bill was getting all his stuff, he started to cry because he knew he was leaving his family, and he didn’t want to. Jacob was sitting, watching Bill pack his stuff. He was crying, too, because he felt like it was his fault that Bill was leaving. Bill sat down and talked to Jacob and reassured him that “he needs to do better for himself and to keep his head up, no mater what.”

Jacob is now going through a hard time because he doesn’t have Bill in his life. Jacob has tried to commit suicide several times. Bill’s mom notified him about Jacob’s attempts of suicide, and he promised his mom that he would come home as soon as he could.

Now, Bill is making all A’s and B’s in school. He got a job that pays him good, and he is working on going to college. With everything that happened in Bill’s life, he keeps his head high, and he is proving to himself and his family he is a better person.

2017 YOUTH CELEBRATION OF WRITING CONTEST

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Brittni Martin Second Place - Narrative/Essay Eleventh Grade Saltillo High School

Goodbye Mother A blinding light shines through the darkness. I can barely see or move.

I don’t know where I am. Somehow, I manage to close my eyes. The brightness diminishes and when my eyes reopen, all that’s visible is my room. Something seems off, and a strange feeling has crept into my body. Or has it? I can’t tell. Exiting my room, I can hear the soft cries of my mother. As I walk, it feels like I am floating on air. I can see my feet touching the carpeted floor, but why can’t I feel it? The living room air is heavy and all I can do is stand motionless as I see my mother. She is hunched over with her head in her hands, letting out quiet sobs and whispering to herself. My father is nowhere in sight; however, I notice footprints left in the carpet and leading to the front door. The prints are visible because they are a dark crimson color. Before I can assess the situation, there is a loud banging on the door. When my mother opens it, she is greeted by officers. I can’t hear what they are saying, but it seems important. The officers finish speaking with my mother, and she leads them down the hall to my bedroom. My mother and the police don’t look my way as they pass by, almost as though I wasn’t there. I followed them to my room silently and noticed the crimson footprints were coming from there. Standing in the doorway of my room, I stare in shock at my lifeless body laying in a pool of blood. The light has returned. I am no longer in my room. Slowly, I walk toward the bright light and whisper, “Goodbye Mother.”

We are so proud of you, Carleigh! Love, Mom, Dad and Megan. Phillipians 4:13- I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

Carleigh Cooper Third Place - Narrative/Essay Eleventh Grade Saltillo High School

The Train “Patient 249, severe head case. Will not cooperate or speak.” The worker droned on and on, but the man cradling his head in the floor could not find it in himself to speak up.

His mind was hazy, and his ears were swimming in muck. What happened last night? The young man moaned loudly, frightening himself.

“Eh, the crazy can speak.” The worker walked in front of the man, crouching down enough to where his knees popped.

He whispered something to the worker. Then his mind couldn’t stop

focusing on the word. He found himself screaming and shouting it, not even know if it made sense.

Domingo En Fuego “I need back-up in here! Bring a shot of Lorazepam!” The worker was yelling over the man’s now-muffled screams. Huh, when had he put his hand in his mouth?

“Your name?” A girl with bright green eyes asked him. She smelled nice, and he wished he could tell her that. But instead, he shrugged his shoulders, scratching at his chest where the snug hospital gown began irritating his skin.

“You don’t know your name?” Her thick eyebrows were close to touching in the center. On anyone else, he would have been disgusted. But on her, he thought they set the rest of her face.

He found himself shrugging once more.

Her eyebrows stayed close together until a look of realization settled over her face. “Ah, you can’t speak?”

He was waging a war inside his mind, threatening to spill everything he was to this young girl in front of him. But instead, he found himself biting his cheek, holding back a tumble of words that would make this pale girl run away.

He shrugged.

“Do you know where you are?” she asked, placing dainty fingers over his hand that was still scratching roughly at his chest.

He shook his head.

“Grover Mental Institution, welcome aboard.” She smiled and showed her teeth that were grimy and in desperate need of brushing.

His heart started racing, a sickly racing feeling washing over him. He wasn’t crazy, so why was he here?

“My name is Ade.” She stuck out a bony hand, waiting for him to grab it.

But his mind was still slow and sluggish, every step he took felt like weights were tied to his ankle.

“J - Joush,” it came out. He was trying to say ‘Josh.’

“Josh?” She seemed to finally understand after a minute of moving her foot in a frantic manner. It seemed like Ade always had to be moving in some way.

‘Josh’ shrugged again. This was probably not his actual name, but it was the first thing to pop into his mind.

Ade looked thoughtful for a moment before turning on her heel, leaving Josh to get swallowed up in the mess of his own mind.

“Please take a seat,” the doctor said firmly.

Josh had taken his seat, the one respectfully far away from Dr. Mentrite.

It was going on his fourth week here, and he had taught himself that it was alright to speak —These people would not hurt him.

“You feeling alright?” Dr. Mentrite asked Josh who was drumming an imperfect beat on his thighs.

“Great.”

“You look like you’re waiting on someone.”

Josh proceeded to look away from the door and met Dr. Mentrite’s storm-grey eyes. What color eyes did Josh have? He had not seen a mirror in such a while.

“Waiting on Ade. She said you also wanted to speak to her.” Josh twiddled his thumbs together, anxiety settling in the bottom of his stomach.

Surely she would not stand him up…

“I’m sorry. I think I heard you wrong.”

“Ade Whitson. She told me you wanted to talk to her, too.”

Dr. Mentrite had gone pale. “Josh, I’m afraid you might be mistaken.

Ade Whitson died over fifteen years ago…She jumped in front of a train.”

FRIDAY, MAY 12, 2017

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TWELFTH GRADE - POETRY Maria Hilbich First Place - Poetry Twelfth Grade Tupelo Christian Preparatory School

Transcendence I wish my lips would speak words of the ancients and fathers of our generations Utter it from the depths of Neptune’s icy sepulcher and scream it from the towers built on the bones of the indoctrinated masses I wish I was crucified upon the tree of knowledge of scholars and critics Only to be risen with just an iota of enlightenment to call my own I wish I lived in a simpler time where apples could fall from trees and a great and powerful force was discovered Where I looked to the bruising sky and saw the heavens open up before me I wish I dared disturb the universe and interrupt its love song to Father Time To storm the jeweled gates of inhumanity and plunder the inconspicuous writings only saved to warm the cold heart of man I wished I lusted for omniscience and craved for my fix of scholarly pursuits To feel the withdrawal and blissful transcendence of higher thought I wish I lived in a nation where its citizens thirsted for the unseen and begged for the pariahs of high society Where men danced to the tune of curiosity and children hummed its abominations I wish we would once again birth unfettered passion for what knowledge lay before us Instead of life with benefits, masked liberty, and the pursuit of empty facts I wish I lived in a time where I could truly live.

| FRIDAY, MAY 12, 2017

Congratulations on your writing talents!

Love, Mom, Dad, Shelby and Chandler Landon Craig Second Place - Poetry Twelfth Grade Tupelo High School

2017 YOUTH CELEBRATION OF WRITING CONTEST Filled with limbs from trees and humans, The battlefield is drenched in deep red plasma.

While widows back home weep into their once white handkerchiefs.

The sun radiates golden white beams during summer months.

Their bodies are now perspiring to get any sense of chill As they fight in combat in royal uniforms for secession of our country.

Crimson still flows in decreased amounts, For the end is near.

The clock is closed.

The fight is fought.

The war is won.

Feeling Free A curious melding of man and machine, With tires, and spokes, and the gears in between.

I'm pushed by the fight, the fight to feel alive; But, ironically, at speed, it’s a fight to survive.

Finally, red, white, and blue fly high with the sun.

Survivors trek home bearing wounds of all kinds.

The ultimate sacrifice given too many times.

But, for this great country, we honor the red, white, and blue.

TWELFTH GRADE - NARRATIVE / ESSAY

I’ve built him for me. His nature has changed.

All of his components have been placed and arranged For me, his rider, so we can agree.

The more we agree, the easier I find it to feel free.

Luke Williams First Place - Narrative/Essay Twelfth Grade Tupelo Christian Preparatory School

The wind, and the cold, the split second decisions.

My gut is my option. There’s no time for revisions.

With nothing else nagging, no more distraction I begin to feel free, for there’s only time for action.

With I made for him, and he made for me, It’s no wonder our bond is what makes me feel free.

Fishing for Patience We are so beastly, my bike and me.

Claire Coggin Third Place - Poetry Twelfth Grade Tupelo High School

Red, White, and Blue Crimson drains from the soldier's exit wound As he fixes his hazy gaze upon the somber blue sky.

The quiet man now prepares for the white light As his body stiffens and slowly begins to collapse Within the fallen autumn leaves.

The time is now winter as the white blizzard penetrates Through their distressed eyes and freezes organs from within.

The Navy presses forward in search of the Red Coats Through the crisp, indigo sea of hidden routes.

The cold months pass and now spring is present As observed from the blooming sky blue plants.

As columnist and editor Doug Larson once said, “If people concentrated on the really important things in life, there’d be a shortage of fishing poles.” Fishing had always been of great importance to my family, both nuclear and extended. Whether in the backyard at a family reunion, or on the coast of Lake Michigan, my family had an evident passion for fishing. Inherited from my family, this desire to catch a fish ignited curiosity inside me. This task did not come easily, as many fishing trips resulted in failure and disappointment. My failures at fishing taught me a valuable life lesson, though I did not realize it at the time.

It was a cold, damp morning, yet the lake portrayed an enlivening steam that warmed the heart. My father and I trudged toward the lake in our knee-high boots, which repelled the morning dew with no effort. It was a “perfect day for fishing” as my father called it. We set up our chairs and readied my pole for what would be my first cast.

I grabbed the box of worms from the tackle box. “These things smell bad,” I told my father. “So I have to touch one of these?”

“If you want to catch a fish,” he responded. “Then you will need one.”

“Dad, this is disgusting.”

“Come on, Luke,” he said bluntly. “You’re a boy.”

“Can’t you just put it on for me?” I asked, putting my adorable charm on display.

He proceeded to apply the worm to my hook, despite his protests. After this prolonged issue, I was ready to cast into the lake. I had envisioned this moment all morning, and the time had finally come. I had run through the motions in my mind multiple times, so I was sure to get it right. However, upon release - or lack thereof - the worm flew off, and my hook plummeted to the ground. This became a repetitive them, as I struggled to learn the art of casting. The seldom times that my hook

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actually made it into the lake resulted in no bites and a strong distaste for fishing. Since I was obviously troubled and disappointed, my father attempted to cheer me up by reminding me of the famous “a bad day fishing is better than a good day doing anything else” quote. I left the lake that day with an extinguished confidence and a sour taste for fishing.

My second chance came sooner than expected. Only a week after my first disappointment, I was given a chance to redeem myself. I had higher hopes for this trip; I envisioned the outcome of triumphantly holding a fish in my hands. There was absolutely nothing that would interpose this glorious moment. The circumstances were different on this fishing trip, as I was with my grandfather instead of my father. We were also visiting a lake I had never been to before. However, these unfamiliarities did not matter to me because I knew that I would emerge victorious.

My grandfather and I set out for the lake on a warm, humid afternoon.

He gave me way too many pointers, most of which went in one ear and out the other. We went through the routine of setting up chairs and baiting the hooks with worms from his tackle box, which was almost as big as I was. My grandfather helped me get my bait into the lake since my casting skills were still subpar. My patience was tested, as I sat there in blistering heat with no activity brewing in the lake. Then, I felt a tug on the line - a tug that I had desired for a long time. I began reeling as tension eased up, and I realized that I was reeling in nothing more than a line and a hook. Disappointment washed over me the way it had when I left empty-handed from my first fishing trip. I wrote off fishing for good, believing that I would never learn how to catch a fish.

Somehow, my father convinced me to go fishing with him yet again.

Despite my beat up confidence, he persuaded me to go with him to give fishing another shot. We arrived at his favorite lake early one morning.

The sun was covered up by the clouds, which was representative of my overall mood. We went through the typical routine: set up and juxtapose our chairs, bait the hooks, and cast into the lake. Once my bait was in the water, I plopped down into my chair with a sullen face and a distasteful attitude. I felt a tug on my line and figured it was nothing more than some trash getting caught on my hook, but then my dad jumped up with elation and told me to start reeling. As I reeled, the unpleasant nature I had adopted that morning vanished. I imagined this fish as being larger than myself. However, when the reeling concluded and the fish was near my pole, it was no bigger than my hand. While it was not the ideal result I had hoped for, I had still conquered this feat and not given up. Not long after, we packed up and left.

“When can we go fishing again?” I asked my father.

In retrospect, I never expected what seemed to be nothing more than a minor event to become a life lesson. Patience is a crucial trait to possess in life, both at and away from the lake. Despite my many failures, my father and grandfather, who were the epitomes of successful fishing, encouraged me to continue working and not give up. To my oncechildish mind, this did not hold much significance, but now I am aware of and grateful for the wonderful lesson that they taught me. “Maybe one day you’ll be as good of a fisherman as we are!” they would tell me. Equipped with their valuable teachings and examples, I plan on conquering that challenge.

2017 YOUTH CELEBRATION OF WRITING CONTEST

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Davis Arthur Second Place - Narrative/Essay Twelfth Grade Tupelo High School

Learning New Boundaries

How could I be so unlucky? With my mind in turmoil, the digital leaderboard stared me down as I sat on the fourteenth tee, uncertain of the outcome. Fifteen minutes earlier, making the cut in the Future Masters junior golf tournament seemed almost a guarantee. My hours of daily practice were finally going to pay off, and my dreams would become reality. However, on the thirteenth hole, circumstances took a turn for the worse. A pushed tee shot, a chunked chip, a poor putt, and there sat my ball six feet from the hole. Still, I had a chance to salvage a bogey and escape without much damage. I approached the ball, aimed my putt, and stroked it intuitively well. The ball rolled pure to its line and unsuspectingly dove left, rode the rim of the cup, and shot out of the other side. My heart sank, and my face burned red with frustration. I finished with a double bogey and allowed one stroke of bad luck to consume my confidence and to disrupt my focus. After parring the next hole, questions of my abilities circulated in my head as a shark who has found its prey.

Such a mindset proves futile in almost any challenging endeavor, and so was the case that warm June afternoon. Only two holes after my unfortunate putt, anger still brewed in my mind. I no longer possessed the calm, collected mind necessary to take on the challenges of the day.

For that reason, when my playing partner Griffin announced, “The wind seems to be in our face today,” I immediately fell to pessimism.

Of course it is. Nothing ever goes my way. I get to the hardest hole on the course, and even Mother Nature seems to be against me.

“Boy it’s playing long. Even I have to hit my driver, today,” Griffin noted.

Though not intentionally, Griffin’s comments added fuel to the fire that was my mental state. I already feared the challenges of the hole, and his proclamation put even more emphasis on the difficulty of the conditions.

If this hole is playing long for Griffin, it might as well be a mile long for me. He’s obviously the stronger player. My only chance to escape this hole is to outplay my abilities and stray from my comfort zone.

With that thought I reached for my driver and swung with all of my might, focused on overpowering the breeze. You have got to be kidding me. I looked up to see my ball dive towards the left trees. I should have known better. When have I ever found success abandoning my natural game. Scolding myself, I walked to my ball situated in the trees left of the fifteenth fairway.

When I arrived at my ball I realized I had placed myself in another predicament, leaving me with a choice to make. The safe option emerged to the right. I don’t have room for safe play. I must reach the green in two shots to be back in good position. Impatiently, I looked for an alternative plan, and after a minute of scouring, there it appeared—

a tiny opening in the dense pack of trees, granting me a shorter route to the green. The risk largely loomed, but I remained too headstrong to make the better choice. With the judgment of a horror movie character, I reached for my four iron and struck the ball with great force. Dumb.

Spectators watched with trepidation.

Flying with the grace of an eagle, the ball zoomed at the tree canopy. I watched hoping that I might have pulled off a shot for the ages, but then…Clunk! The ball struck the last branch. My smile vanished. With a harsh ricochet, the ball bounced towards a golfer’s worst nightmare: a series of white posts. It raced out of bounds. With a lump in my throat, I stumbled over to determine my ball’s status, but somehow I already knew that it had surpassed the boundary. My mental game collapsed, and failure felt final. I wanted to cry, and maybe I did. Golf has always appealed to me because of its ability to challenge the patience and the pride of man.

During the play of my final holes, thoughts about making the cut had subsided. Depression that accompanies failure abound...that is, until the 17th hole. As I walked toward my ball with my head down, my dad called my name and held up a lemon-lime Gatorade. With an encouraging smile, he gave me the drink and said, “Relax, we’ll get ‘em next year.”

Looking at his relaxed and cheery disposition, I could not help but grin.

“Thanks dad,” I replied, with a touch of buoyancy and joy that I had not felt for several hours. With this kind gesture of my father, I finally recognized the foolishness of my behavior. My dad, who had sacrificed his time and his money for me to pursue this dream, remained optimistic even after my theatrical breakdown. I realized then that the pressure I felt came from within and that my need for perfection had been detrimental to my performance. Had I kept my mind in the present and accepted my mistakes as only minor setbacks, who knows how much better I could have finished.

Either way, I would have better enjoyed the experience. Through this failure, I discovered the valuable life lessons of patience and composure, but more importantly, I learned that to succeed in golf and in life, I must remain thoughtful, adaptive to change, and forgiving—even of my own mistakes. These are the problem-solving skills needed to address today’s complex issues, and I plan to use them to the best of my ability as I strive to make a difference in the world.

Jaren Givhan Third Place - Narrative/Essay Twelfth Grade Tupelo High School

By and By I used to have trouble when my mother told me “no.” I really don’t know how to explain, but it just always seemed like she wanted to keep

FRIDAY, MAY 12, 2017

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me from living. For a child, the word “no” is a word that seems to crush the soul, and I personally had a strenuous time coping with the word.

Yes, I knew I was far from adulthood, but I always felt that I should have been able to live a little and have the slack to make my own decisions.

The strangling reins of discipline and control had needed to be loosened. It’s not like I was ever planning to go out and rob Renasant Bank or go to some adult party. Feeling caged in life is no pleasant feeling because this caged bird had no reason to sing. I just wanted the doors of my cage to open, so freedom could have its way. However, as I have grown older I have learned how ignorant a child can be to instruction.

The song “You’ll Understand It Better By and By” seems to be the story of my life. I have realized that my mother has only been instilling in me the same knowledge she has gained.

My mother was reared by her grandparents, Olan and Clara King.

Neither one had higher than a sixth grade education or a high income job, but both were devoted Christians, wise, and, most importantly, knowledgeable. Between the two, my Grandmother Clara was the one who really ran the show. She grew up in Nettleton around the nineteen twenties and taught my mother some of the lessons which were instilled in her during that time period. I know this was tough for my mother because she always shares, “Mama didn’t let me do any and everything I wanted to,” so I can only imagine how many times she heard “no” growing up. When I think about my mother being reared with the same teachings of my greatgrandmother, who grew up almost a century ago, it scares me sometimes. Who would want to grow up living on antiquated principles and teachings? It would be outdated and uncommon, but for a while I felt as if the teachings my mother received were the same ones I was being taught. For a long time I felt that I might as well just lived in the twenties because I didn’t want to miss out on opportunities and freedoms as a result of old teachings.

However, when I reflect on my mother’s life and the prosperities she has acquired, I am amazed because it is the mere result of a few responses of “no” given by Grandmother Clara. Now I can see that those same responses have trickled on down to another generation for the better.

As I become wiser and more knowledgeable by my mother’s instruction, I oftentimes see how much discipline from a knowledgeable person can guide futures. Although I do not always agree with my mother’s judgement, I have realized it is better to submit to her instruction than to be a fool. When I look at my friends and classmates at school and thank God that my mother has told me “no” before. It is easy to see those who have been taught and those who have taught themselves, and the ones who have had to teach themselves seem to find themselves in avoidable problems.

A few weeks ago it really hit me hard. The fact that I am now eighteen years old and that my time of rearing is coming to an abrupt end caused me to reflect on my life. Every “no” that that I have heard has been to help and to guide me. The epiphany slapped me in the face because it highlighted my ignorance. Soon, I will be off to college and will have to face the world on my own. My mother constantly shares with me, “I won’t be here with you forever, so it’s best you learn now and know Him for yourself.” If I think too long on that constant saying I normally get sentimental, but I am thankful to know that I have and constantly receive are simply instilling knowledge.

| FRIDAY, MAY 12, 2017

2017 YOUTH CELEBRATION OF WRITING CONTEST

DAILY JOURNAL

2017 YOUTH CELEBRATION OF WRITING CONTEST

DAILY JOURNAL

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2017 YOUTH CELEBRATION OF WRITING CONTEST

DAILY JOURNAL