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CONTEST ENDED – Thank you for submitting your stories!

Write about someone finally making their own choices.

Posted in Middle School on Oct 26, 2022

Submissions are closed

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✍️ 203 stories

“Ellen's Decision” by John Veit

Submitted to Contest #95

   The bus almost always came on time, but if it was late Ellen would still make it to work well before nine. She had never been late ever and was proud of that fact — eleven years of punctual, diligent, perfectly competent performance. She liked her job. It allowed her to buy decent clothes, go out with her girlfriends once in a while and take vacations to Vegas and the Bahamas. Her apartment wasn’t great, but in seven years she would own it outright. Every couple years she got a small raise.    At work that da...

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“Walking Right Out” by Rey Malarski

Submitted to Contest #95

Well, this is awkward. Not the same kind of awkwardness that filled Grandma Tiffany’s house during the famous Christmas of 2016, or even the type of awkwardness that must have existed when Aunt Nancy told the family she was pregnant at 17. No this was different, and much, much worse.  This day will go down in history as the day that I, Holly Garcia, announced that I will not become a part of the family business. I mean who even wants to sell cars for the rest of their life anyway. I’ve always wanted to become a street artist, and sur...

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“Faded ” by Kathleen Berger

Submitted to Contest #95

Chapter 1 “Are you sure you want to do this? It’s never too late to go back to school.” My father pressured.  “I’m sure Dad. This is my dream job.” I argued, brushing my long black hair from my face. “As long as you’re happy.” He said finally giving in. “There were no other schools you could go to, preferably away from the city?”  “There probably are, but I love Chicago. I couldn't leave.” I sipped my hot tea. “And besides this city needs people like me.” The lines of his aged face contorted. “You mean people that study at ...

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“Erik” by Leah Murphy

Submitted to Contest #95

The rain pounded against his blistering hands, cooling the fresh sores. It was hard to breathe; his asthma was pushing his lungs to their extreme, making him force deep painful gasps of air and water droplets. His boots sank into the soft  mud as he dug the rusty spade deeper into farm soil. The wood handle stabbed his fingers with small splinters, the shaft threatening to snap at any moment. He heard the barn door creak open in the distance and saw his father trudging across the field, his face twisted into a scowl. He only needed to d...

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“42” by 2 7

Submitted to Contest #95

It was the 6th of July 1859, he could recall vividly, the day when he met Michael, a man whose moustache twirls with an unyielding confidence he had never seen before, his slender figure wrapped in a tight tuxedo. With Michael, he would not be ordered to deliver letters, although he was allowed to bring along his postman hat when the manager sold him. Everyday, he would wait for orders, bristing in the hallway with his chubby, metallic body glistening, but none would come. However, when it did, Michael would correct him, and tell h...

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“Anti-prodigal journey” by Arch R

Submitted to Contest #95

I’ve left home. I am now six thousand miles away from my parent’s grasp. My parents and their overbearing love which felt less like a cocoon and more like a blade that sharpened a pencil to a point, chipping away at it to achieve a semblance of perfection. The anti-prodigal journey has been winding. First, the northern pilgrimage after living in the South for a few too many years. And what a Mecca at that: New York City, the pinnacle for those who want to get lost in a crowd. Not caring is the currency of the city. No one cared what I did ...

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“The Queens Daughter” by Abby Burton

Submitted to Contest #95

I am Harper Rose, I am 17 and I am queen Alexandra's daughter. All my life, my mother would always make decisions on my behalf. She nor father would let me make my own choice. They would always choose everything, like what i'm going to eat, or wear or who I will marry in the future. You see, to me marrying someone must be out of love, and I would love to choose who I marry and not. But every time I tell mother she would always scoff, and say that I must be prim and proper. I must act like a lady and dress like one. She keeps telling me, that...

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“Fate” by J.V. Stump

Submitted to Contest #95

"Mama, no."The words slipped out before I could stop them, which is a cliche that is a cliche for a reason."No, I can't. Won't."She drew back from me, seemingly uncomprehending what I had just said. Everybody else in the room had gone quiet, eager for her to respond to that which she did not yet understand. While she stared at me, I dissected her face, and the look on it. Was that...bemusement? Shock? Anger? Did it even register with her that this wasn't the fate I had chosen for myself?That was another cliche. Fate. What did that even mean?...

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“A New Life” by Sohani Mehra

Submitted to Contest #95

On a bright, sunny morning on the streets of London, England it was complete chaos. Cars were honking, motorcycles were speeding, tires were screeching and people were yelling. Along with a few other children was Billy Brown who was playing in the local park. Billy was a skinny and tall twelve year old boy. He wore a red shirt, black trouser, black runner shoes and a blue sweater. He had light brown hair which shone in the sun. Billy's parents were the owners of a large soap company and were very, very rich. They owned a large house with 3 f...

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“A Letter to Polaris” by Royce Gareth Montealto

Submitted to Contest #95

Staring at the waves as it smashed against the hull like an angry stampede of water horses, In between wind and water I had awoken from a half asleep state but not really, lately I felt like I have woken up without even sleeping, not for days. I was on board a passenger vessel Saint Francis on my way to Mindanao an Island in the Philippines, almost two whole days' journey but I prefer this over plane after all I am a sailor, but not this time, this time a passenger.  Everything has been laid out for me like a drawn course on a navi...

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“The reluctant rebel” by Sonal Singh

Submitted to Contest #95

For as long as Ritwik remembered, he had never had a say in his life. The earliest memories went back to his school days. He lived with his family in a small town of Uttarakhand, a state in northern India. For a family of five, the house felt like a mansion to Ritwik and Reena, then five and three respectively. Low white buildings, with multiple interconnected rooms, and plenty of space allowed him and his sister to run wild in the house. Adjacent to their home was a temple, constructed by the boy’s forefathers, maintained by his parents,...

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“An Extract from "Kindleborn"” by Conor Thackray

Submitted to Contest #95

The Caravan swayed and bumped along the track with rickety creaking noises and everyone in the caravan bumped with it, the plodsteed’s hooves clopping across the cobbled road. There were five children in all Jay’ell, Dazda, Montery, Jasper and Aiv. All of them had the same, slightly reflective bronze coulored skin and golden eyes of Kindleborn, a strange new race of humans who had started to appear over the last 20 years. All of them had been taken by Stirben, under the license of a, supposed, Ashclad; a division formed for the sole purpose ...

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“BEST DECISION OF HIS LIFE” by Giacomo Signaroldi

Submitted to Contest #95

Looking back I have never really had the chance of simply take any choice.  I was born, obviously. No-one would disagree on that and there’s no-one that could say differently than that. This is like a fixed, starting point. Everything start from there, otherwise you’re not here and there’s no even the problem to complain about, right? Here’s the first step: you don’t get to chose if you want to be there, where and when you want to be. You cannot decide to be black, jew, man, tall, with three arms, laser eyes: and that’s the first ti...

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“The Choice” by Neri Sompanos

Submitted to Contest #95

"C'mon, Grace! We gotta go now!" I panicked."Gimmie a sec," Grace, currently, and slowly, wiping her glistening hands on her pants, and paid little consideration as her smooth, curly, black hair got in her face. Her sleek, Hispanic skin held a sheen of sweat as she panted, money bursting out of her jean pockets. A few quarters, nickels, dimes, and quarters slipped out of her broken pocket. She quickly picked them up and threw them into a flower bed. As the wailing of alarms and sirens got closer to us and our position, my mind raced for any ...

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“Broom Hair” by Ophelia Ellis

Submitted to Contest #95

(TW: depression, attempted, and mention of suicide)The ends of my hair look like an old broom. My fingers get caught in the tangles in my hair as I run my hand through it. The roots at the top of my hair are slick but as my fingers pull through the knots in my hair locks become dry and split.I should wash my hair-- probably get a haircut too. I move my hand to my teeth. I drag a fingernail across my teeth while the crud gathers under the nail.I’m sure my teeth as well as my hair wouldn’t mind if I brushed them. The mouthwash too wo...

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