Edzi Yawa Naima Whitted / Age 16
2023
CONTRIB UTORS Addington-Wu, Ameleia
44
Leonard, Zoe
11, 17
Barnett, Eden
25
McKeever, Isla
28
Beym, Callen
11
McKip, Phoenix
36
Blair, Caroline
35
Mickle, Ava
39
Bothur, Lydia
23
Miller, Brant
18
Broome, Jada
6
Miller, Emma
4
Broome, Naomi
34
Moseley, LilyAnne
23
Burnett, Lillie
41
Porter, Gabriel
19
Rayeed, Talukder
29
Calixto, Vanessa Pacheco 38 Canty, Clarence
20
Rogers, Gabe
8
Chen, Lillian
38
Russell, Karynna
5
Cheng, Jacqueline
Back Cover
Salter, Jane
9
Childs, Simone
47
Scogin, Macy
2
Daniels, Memphis
33
Shelley, Annaleah
14
Díaz, Zara
15
Skillman, Maya
3
Downey, Leela
16
Soner, Aydin
31
Ellington, Susan Faith
40
Strom, Violet
46
Farrell, Madelyn
24
Stuart, Audrey
45
Garris, John
21
Taylor, Emma
22
Gentry, Paul
45
Thrash, Aiden
10
Gilbreth, Emmalyn
48
Venn, Mary Kate
13
Hinson, Brynlee
27
Watkins III, Terry
42
James, Donovan
30
Watson, Jordan
48
King, Madison
26
Watson, Madeline
37
Kiser, Georgia
32
White, Alli
7
Lacey, Lucy
5
Whitehead, Guthrie
12
Land, Zoey
13
Whitelaw, Haley
Inside Back Cover
Le, Aria
Title Page
Whitted, Naima
Cover
Garcia Leal, Melody
43
Williams, Zoeii
28
Converse Aria Le | Age 13
2023
Into the Unknown Macy Scogin | Age 9
2 | Kids in Print 2023
As the Leaves Turn A cool fresh autumn breeze blows on my face as leaves turn and spin from the trees overhead. I pick up a fallen acorn from the path. It is round and smooth with a bumpy top hat to complete his look. As I look up I see a mother fox and her children scurry across the trail, their little paws crunching leaves as they hurry away. My pink jacket snags on a nearby branch. I rip it off with a zip that sends the branch shaking. As I continue down the trail I spot a deer. She looks at me, eyes as black and beautiful as the night sky, before running back into the woods. I look up to see the sun peeking out from behind a cloud. A squirrel jumps from tree to tree making more leaves fall. The path is covered in some sort of animal tracks. I look closer and realize that they are raccoon paw prints. Careful not to step on them, I continue on. I come to a bridge. I hear rushing water and look down to see the prettiest stream. A few fish swim around trying to dodge the leaves that keep blocking their path. The trail widens to reveal the perfect autumn scene that you see in all the pictures. I find a bench to sit down on and take in the beauty of fall.
Maya Skillman | Age 10
Kids in Print 2023 | 3
Only Three Words Happily I watch your hair blowing in the wind. You smile, I blink. I smile, You blush. Our eyes, They’re locked. My heart, It beats. My breath, It slows. As you speak. Only three words, Three wonderful, amazing words I listen, You speak. I respond— “I love you, too.”
Emma Miller | Age 17
4 | Kids in Print 2023
last july sunsets, burnt auburn and rolling skies, blowing grass and cloudy minds, the stars winking on the meadow where we lie “i’ll always love you” i believe you this time i don’t know why
Lucy Lacey | Age 14
Selfie Karynna Russell | Age 10
Kids in Print 2023 | 5
Solis Jada Broome | Age 18
6 | Kids in Print 2023
she wonders if she’s real she says it’s not the growing older that scares her it’s the wondering what her own future holds the knowing that even as the years tick by it’s nowhere close to being over she can’t see through the haze that’s covering her eyes she wonders why her memories fail her, why they can’t seem to remember all the lessons she was supposed to learn she doesn’t know who she is or who she’s supposed to be says she’s not quite sure where her life is taking her she can’t know what will happen in the next four years but she hopes it’s better than what came before what’s past is past but that doesn’t mean it’s gone she heard that you don’t have to forgive or forget to move on he told her not to put too much pressure on herself but she can’t seem to let go of the weight on her back the best advice she ever heard came from someone she barely even knew she wonders what that says about her friends she wishes she could see herself through the eyes of someone else does her life look different from an outside point of view? she doesn’t know why she’s just a background character in every story maybe no one truly wants her, but does that matter? she wonders why she feels like an outsider in her own skin she thinks it’s why she only sees herself from a third person point of view
Alli White | Age 17 Kids in Print 2023 | 7
Legends Never Die Gabe Rogers | Age 17
8 | Kids in Print 2023
Moods Jane Salter | Age 13
Kids in Print 2023 | 9
The Loop It always starts with a bad day Maybe it’s a grade, maybe at home But by God, do not let sadness show And for those who do? They may be inclined to cry Or to put their head down Surely that’s fine? Or hide away from their problems Spend a little too long getting water, But then… As they release their sadness with aghast and pain Someone calls out their name, Not an adult or a good friend, But maybe this person will save the day, Maybe this person could help them back out of the entrance of the loop Or maybe.. They’ll push them right in. Even as they walk away after seeing such a sight, It is clear that they do not want to make it right When you finally follow suit and enter the class You realize you’re the laughing stock, people criticize you en masse A pain washes over you, not bullying, not at all As if the world wants to see you burn and fall But before you would begin to cry once more A voice is present, one you aren’t sure you’ve heard before A form of stoicism presents itself among your physique As someone tells everyone else to stop. To stop joking of a pain they can’t compute You realize that you nearly fell into The Loop
Aiden Thrash | Age 13 10 | Kids in Print 2023
Thoughts I’m shoved into a cell Of my own making And I hear it lock behind me. I try to ignore the others In this cell with me But I hear them anyway. You’re worthless. You’re ugly. You’re stupid. You can’t do anything right. Why are you crying? Stop being a weakling. All the thoughts I had locked away And told myself I’d deal with later Now invaded my space, Pummeling me with their words, Leaving no escape routes, No way to block out the insults. They dig under my skin, Leaving jagged gashes And reopening old wounds. They’re dangerous, these thoughts, And they’re always there, always waiting For the right time to strike.
Callen Beym | Age 13 and Zoe Leonard | Age 12
Kids in Print 2023 | 11
The Circle Guthrie Whitehead | Age 7
12 | Kids in Print 2023
Anger A wave of heat hits you A hot wave of heat Flows into your brain Your hands form fists Clenching anything Tight and rough A stream of words flows in your head Strong, bad words, But you keep them to yourself, Breaths of air calm you, Breathing heavy but now calm, The anger from you,
Pity Party Zoey Land | Age 11
Is gone, We can get through this, Together.
Mary Kate Venn | Age 11
Kids in Print 2023 | 13
From, The Monster Under Your Bed Dear child, I blame you for a lot of things I shouldn’t. After all, you were just a little kid. You have no control over the way it works. But if you didn’t exist, if you didn’t cause every monster I assigned to you to quit in your first two years, if you weren’t so quiet and brave all the time, I never would have taken on the job, and my life never would have become this complicated. I did my part, though. The cold seeping out from under the bed, curling around your feet with boney fingers, that made you sprint into your bed and pull up the covers so, so quickly? That was me. The creak in the dead of night, the one that was “just the house settling”? That was also me, keeping you locked in fear in your room, just as I was supposed to. The gentle sway of the shower curtain, when the window wasn’t open and there was no wind, that made you jerk it open and hide even before you washed your hands? That was also me. It was my job to scare you, to keep you confined. That’s what I was assigned. I carried out my duties. But those petty hauntings only seemed to work when you were really little. When you still had fresh, curly hair, baby pudge, and stained fingers. As you grew taller, you still snuck into bed and buried yourself in your tower, never leaving for more than a few moments. I could have deluded myself into thinking that it really was because you were scared of me. But I saw the truth in the way your steps became more calculated, tentative, while also uneven from the occasional limps caused by bruising. The way they became mindful of the creaky spots on the floor. The way, even when I was trying to scare you, you never rushed forward. Because it wasn’t me you were scared of. It was that raging, hissing, drunk monster downstairs. That monster, not me, is the reason your bed became your cell. And I suddenly realized you weren’t afraid of monsters with scraggly fur and glowing eyes like me because you had your own. You know worse. And I know you envy those other kids whose biggest problem was a shapeless shadow that sent them scurrying under blankets. Even if it didn’t seem like it, I was always there for you year after year. I still tried to scare you. But I also made it my job to sink my teeth into the other monster, the one perpetually screaming and sloshing brown liquid into the fancy carpets. I would rush around them in a flurry of motion that made them shake with vertigo. I was determined to give you a child’s fear again, one easily dismissed as the wind, or a figment of your imagination. There was a car accident, a pool of blood and fragments of bone and metal, on the road right in front of your house. I know this because I saw it from your window, as I was waiting for you to come in so I could jump out and frighten you. And then you scared me. You walked from the wreckage, unscathed but with hands stained red. The spitting monster was no more. You came upstairs and locked yourself in the bathroom. I heard the shower running for a long time. I thought it would be my turn to be the thing that made you hesitate to relax. But I quickly realized you were made of something different. That even when your personal terror was gone, you still did not--and would not--shiver as I raked a talon down your shoulder or flapped my wings, sending cold drifts of air on your sleeping form. You never feared me like most should. And it didn’t take me long to figure out that the reason was because after living so long with that merciless monster, it inevitably became a part of you. Someone who has been burned fears no embers. I am retiring. I will no longer be with you. My days of hiding in closets are over, and I will miss them. But this is probably for the best. I will meet no other children that utterly confuse me as much as you have. But never doubt. Other monsters like me will watch over you. Perhaps they will succeed in the ways I could not. May you never face another like the one you grew up with. And I hope a day comes when you are scared of the dark and what lurks beneath the mattress, and nothing more. Annaleah Shelley 14 | Kids in Print 2023 | Age 14
Parts of My Body Zara Díaz | Age 6
Kids in Print 2023 | 15
Light Side and Dark Side Leela Downey | Age 9 16 | Kids in Print 2023
An Escape from Life My thoughts are destroying me. I try not to think but the silence is a killer too. The tiniest things set me off, make me snap at people who don’t deserve it. People who try to put up with me and my problems always end up dead anyway. That or they leave with a shake of their head, often accompanied by a “You’re a good person. I can tell. But you’ve got to stop hiding from the world.” Always that. What if I’m not really a good person? I’ve tried and I’ve tried and I’ve tried but I’m always the same. I can’t change, no matter how much I want to, no matter how much I try. So here I sit, tucked into a corner, trying to hide from the realities of life. But they find me anyway, creeping into my thoughts and seeping through my carefully-built walls. Slowly but surely, my thoughts are tearing me to pieces. I try to just not think at all, but silence is somehow even worse. It is filled with the monsters of my past, the ones I was scared of, the ones that lived under the bed and inside the closet and in those dark corners where things go to die. I feel a tap on my shoulder and jerk awake, heart thudding as I twist to try and see what got behind me, but there’s nothing there. There’s not a single thing in this house except for me. It’s more like a shack, really; all it is is four walls and a roof. There’s not even a floor, there’s just dirt. I feel another tap and leap to my feet, looking around wildly. My heart is still thudding, so much faster than it should. There’s nothing here. You’re safe. You’re fine. I slowly fold myself back into my corner only to feel yet another tap. This time on my nose. My chest is heaving, my heart thudding, my pulse racing, my eyes wild. My body is primed for flight but there’s nowhere to run. I had the door taken out a while ago. There’s no longer a way in or out. I thought it’d be better for people if they no longer had to feel obligated to help just because they could. All they do is waste their money, their food, their time on me. Now I’m regretting that choice. There is something in here with me, and now I’m stuck with it. Another tap, on my elbow. I swallow back a scream. You’re safe here, this is probably all just a hallucination. Another tap, on my foot. I scramble backwards, hopefully away from whatever is in here. All of a sudden, I can see a cloaked figure in front of me. Pressed against the wall in an attempt to stay as far away from this mysterious figure as possible, I manage to say, “Who Are you?” My voice is quiet, hoarse, and raspy from disuse; I haven’t said a word in five years. The figure doesn’t say anything, just reaches a finger out to me. I barely swallow back another scream; the finger is nothing but bone. There’s no flesh, not even any prosthetic thing. Just plain old bone. I try to get away from this strange, hooded thing, but it holds out a hand and suddenly I can’t move. My limbs aren’t responding to my brain’s commands, words are building up in my throat but are blocked by some unseen force, even my eyes won’t do what I tell them to. The bony finger inches ever closer, until finally, it taps the middle of my forehead, and everything goes dark.
Zoe Leonard | Age 12
Kids in Print 2023 | 17
Halloween Bright, flashing lights. Jovial frights. Laughs and shouts echo throughout.
Cheap, flimsy ghosts and plastic pumpkins Carry plastic wrapped, cloyingly sweet treats. All for fun and farce.
But deep down, in woods unexplored, in houses abandoned, with walls unadorned, Across cloudy skies, beyond dying trees in small towns, in quiet graveyards, in dark corners and deep cellars the night lives on.
Brant Miller | Age 18
18 | Kids in Print 2023
Grim Reaper Gabriel Porter | Age 11
Kids in Print 2023 | 19
The Fashionable Zombie Clarence Canty | Age 10
20 | Kids in Print 2023
The Horror of the Starburst on Halloween “Candy is meant to be eaten.” “We can’t help it, we taste good.” That’s what all my friends say, but I refuse to believe that it’s true. So while all of the other candies are dreading Halloween, I am looking forward to it. I am going to try to be the first ever candy to survive it! But right now, I am in a bowl, waiting to be picked by the humans! “Trick or Treat,” I hear coming from the other side of a door. Creak. The door is opened by an elderly woman. “Take two please,” she creaks. A hand reaches in the bowl, and picks me up! “Look, they have Starbursts here!” A young boy exclaims. I know what you are thinking, and to answer, no I am not a star that recently burst into flames. I am the chewy candy kind of Starburst, definitely not a star. “AHHHHHHHHH!” I am being dropped into an orange bucket! The bucket is starting to fling around wildly. I’m guessing the boy is running. “Mom, I got a Starburst!” I hear him exclaim. The same thing happens on repeat, except with other candies. By the end of the night, I am squished between a Snickers bar and a Three Musketeers. The boy is now sorting his candy! He is picking me up, and placing me with a double wrapped Starburst! “Mom, can I eat a piece?” The boy asks. “Of course!” His mother says, he reaches for me, and then... Are you sure you want to read this next part? OK then he unwraps me in front of everybody, and puts me in his mouth! There’s nothing I can do. They are all correct. Candy’s just meant to be eaten.
John Garris | Age 10
Kids in Print 2023 | 21
Eraser Dog Emma Taylor | Age 11 22 | Kids in Print 2023
Aslan in the Sun LilyAnne Moseley | Age 15
The Hungry Cat There once was a cat named Mateo Who would look in your face and say-o I really want my food Give it now or you’re rude He does this a lot—every day-o
Lydia Bothur | Age 15
Kids in Print 2023 | 23
Dog Boop Madelyn Farrell | Age 11
24 | Kids in Print 2023
Tired of Photos Eden Barnett | Age 14
Kids in Print 2023 | 25
Puppy Party Madison King | Age 7
26 | Kids in Print 2023
A Dog Brynlee Hinson | Age 7
Kids in Print 2023 | 27
Dear Aliens, Wherever You Are! Do you really live on Mars? Do you drive in flying cars and gaze at stars? Do you have video games? Do you have silly names? Can you do gymnastics? If you can, that’s fantastic! Do you have cupcakes? Because we do! Can you ride on a kangaroo? Do you wear clothes? Do you like it when it snows? Whether any of this is true, wherever you are, we love you.
Isla McKeever | Age 9 and Zoeii Williams | Age 8
28 | Kids in Print 2023
Dinosaur Battle Talukder Rayeed | Age 8
Kids in Print 2023 | 29
Strong Man Donovan James | Age 7
30 | Kids in Print 2023
Yoruba Deity Shango Aydin Soner | Age 9
Kids in Print 2023 | 31
The French Troll I woke to the sound of my dad banging on my door and the strong, dark smell of his seventh cup of coffee brewing. I looked at my clock and the time was exactly four in the morning. This was the usual time he woke me. “Logan, get out of bed! We need to leave now--the trolls are rising!” my father yelled. Reluctantly, I crawled out of bed and dressed. I hated waking this early and especially hated waking to him yelling “the trolls are rising!” How ridiculous of him to believe trolls were real. No matter how many times I told him that trolls were mythological creatures, he never believed me. He claimed there were trolls in our woods, and he was going to find them and prove it. Once I had dressed, I descended the stairs to find my father, like always, standing by the door tapping his watch and shaking his head. “You’re never on time. You need to speed things up. No wonder we always miss ‘em.” He took up his rifle then threw me mine, which I clumsily caught. With the night as our refuge, we prowled out the door. After a long and exhausting walk, we made it to our spot. My dad crouched down with his rifle, which he pointed straight ahead. With a sigh I flopped on my belly like a fish. Despite my distaste for this ridiculous troll fiasco, I always loved lying on the warm earth and watching the sun rise over the mountains. With my father quiet, I could enjoy the silent morning awakening from its night’s rest. I must have fallen asleep. “Logan, look.” My dad insisted. Rolling my eyes, I turned to look at what absurd thing he saw now. To my surprise, a skinny, white ruffled haired hunchbacked thing stood with its back to us. For a minute I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Was it a troll? Was my dad right all along? But the more I stared at it the more I realized that trolls weren’t skinny with white ruffled hair. Eventually, the thing began to talk! Not in English but in French! I closed my eyes and thought this through. When I opened my eyes, I saw a sly smile line my father’s face. He held the rifle up to his eye and aimed. “We’ve got you now,” my dad whispered, slowly bringing his finger back to shoot. “Louis, Louis, oh Louis,” laughed the skinny thing. Louis? Who is Louis? Wait, Louis?! Mr. Comb! Instantly, I whipped around, grabbed my dad’s rifle yanked it out of his hands just as the bullet went flying. “Logan, what did you do?!” My heart was pounding. I could barely speak. “What is the matter with you? The troll, right there!” Once I had enough oxygen in my poor, quivering body, I spoke. “That is not a troll. That thing is Mr. Comb, our neighbor.” My dad’s eyes widened. He jerked his head up to stare at Mr. Comb. Gazing in astonishment, my dad’s mouth plummeted open. “Mr. Comb, is it really you?” I tapped my dad’s shoulder. “Dad, he’s deaf.” His head fell. Never had I seen such disappointment and anger all burn in one on my father’s face. Sighing, he said, “let’s go home, Logan.” We grabbed our rifles and headed home. I felt bad for him. I wanted to say something, but nothing came. The only thing that came to mind was to reach out and hold his hand. Seeing him in this state almost brought tears to my eyes, until a loud, booming din hit our ears. We stopped mid-step. The din came again, and again, and again. Finally, after a whole five minutes, the sound ceased. “That was strange, I have never heard anything like that. What do you think that was?” I asked my dad. He turned his head to me with a huge, full smile on his round face. “Logan, I don’t think–I know!” “I don’t follow,” I said. He got on his knees and looked me straight in the eyes. “Son, we just heard a giant.” 32 | Kids in Print 2023
Georgia Kiser | Age 15
Orchid Memphis Daniels | Age 13
Kids in Print 2023 | 33
You’re Just What the Family Needs. You Just Have to See It. Naomi Broome | Age 13
34 | Kids in Print 2023
Warrior Vs. the Shadow Caroline Blair | Age 8 Kids in Print 2023 | 35
Sing! 36 | Kids in Print 2023
Phoenix McKip | Age 14
Nature The forest The tree The leaf It blows in The wind The grass The forest It blows past The tree The flower The soil And again past The bush The woods The leaf It floats slowly, swirling Down Down Down Until Its’ stem touches Down into The lake The reflection The end
Madeline Watson | Age 11
Kids in Print 2023 | 37
A Secret Visitor On a hot summer day, A secret visitor sees you every day, A little pixie is flying toward you, Flapping its little wings, Up and down, A little fairy, A little hummingbird.
Lillian Chen | Age 7
The Bored Fairy Once upon a time, there was a little fairy. The fairy was bored so she called her grandma. But her grandma was bored too. So they called her grandpa. But her grandpa was bored too. So they called her dad. But her dad was bored too. So they called her mom. But her mom was bored too. So they called her friend. But her friend was bored too. Finally, they realized they could all play together. And they did.
Vanessa Pacheco Calixto | Age 7
38 | Kids in Print 2023
Angel Ava Mickle | Age 7
Kids in Print 2023 | 39
A Beautiful Wedding Overjoyed, More members of our family brought more love. White lilies and blue chrysanthemums (if such a kind exist), Readings at the chapel, My blue dress with ruffles. The smell of flowers burst up and streamed into noses, Splashes of blue across clothing like a huge sky watching over us, And an ocean below us, too. Her white veil like an angel had fallen down from Heaven to visit, Walking with a stately gait and precise feeling of where she was going down the aisle. A huge celebration! Just like jewels – beautiful and sparkly. “Love is patient, love is kind, and love never fails.” “Till death do us part.” A dream brought to life, The wedding filled my heart with love.
Susan Faith Ellington | Age 15
40 | Kids in Print 2023
Flower Princess Lillie Burnett | Age 9
Kids in Print 2023 | 41
Sunday Evening Coast 42 | Kids in Print 2023
Terry Watkins III | Age 17
Why Do I Feel Small? Reading realistic fiction brings joy to me I like learning about each character, what they bring to the table, and how they differ from me When it's all read and done and the books are in their piles I stop with the smiles How come this girl has encounters filled with adventure and excitement? Why do I feel small? How does she have things figured out and in the end, life seems good? Why do I feel small? Why do I suddenly feel that my life is not so amusing as hers and that my achievements feel like an ant while hers is a skyscraper? Why do I feel small? Then I remember, in the end, nothing is real on the paper Then I remember, in the end, it's so silly to compare myself to a fictional human being! So then, I go back to reading
Melody Garcia Leal | Age 14
Kids in Print 2023 | 43
Sunflower 44 | Kids in Print 2023
Ameleia Addington-Wu | Age 8
Mushroom Forest Audrey Stuart | Age 11
Annoying Cricket Annoying cricket In the vent chirping all day When will it be gone?
Paul Gentry | Age 10
Kids in Print 2023 | 45
Untitled Violet Strom | Age 12 46 | Kids in Print 2023
Cloudy Sunset Beach Simone Childs | Age 7
Kids in Print 2023 | 47
Hands of Time Jordan Watson | Age 16
Learning to Listen To Learn Is to Listen to People who offer Their minds as libraries of truth Emmalyn Gilbreth | Age 17
48 | Kids in Print 2023
A Path Less Taken
Haley Whitelaw / Age 16
We dedicate this edition of Kids in Print to Ginger Shuler, Richland Library’s former Chief of Youth Services. Ginger believed deeply in giving children and teens opportunities to make their voices heard and share their creativity. Many people made this edition of Kids in Print possible and we each worked hard to make this publication the best yet. Thank you: Families, teachers and school staff / Richland Library Children and Teen Services Staff / Darion McCloud / Bonita Peeples / Marketing and Communications / Events & Experience Kids in Print Selection Committee Taelor Johnson / Heather McCue / Jennifer Naimzadeh / LaKisha Perrin / Ashley Warthen
Phase
Jada Broome / Age 17
Practicing Zen Jacqueline Cheng / Age 9