Creative Voices from Junior High - 7th Grade

THE MIDNIGHT VISITOR
by MARY CRANE

It was a dark and stormy night. A little girl named Susan was staying in a big house with her Grandmother. She was just about to hop into bed when her Grandmother came in with a glass of milk for her. Then her Grandmother left. She drank half of it and then feeling sleepy she went to sleep. During the night she woke up suddenly and turned on the light. The milk was gone. She turned chalk white. She was rather brave though so she decided to experiment. She got another glass of milk and she put it on the table and went to sleep. Later that night she woke up and the milk was gone again. She filled the glass up again and turned the light off. She waited a few minutes and saw a ghostly white thing. She was about to scream but she decided to turn on the light. She saw her Grandmother's white cat. She laughed so hard her Grandmother had to come up and see what the racket was. When she heard what happened, her Grandmother laughed harder than Sue.


A CHRISTMAS GIFT
by LOUISE ANDERSON

The art of giving a Christmas gift is to give it with love and meaning. A beautiful inexpensive scarf given with love would mean much more than an expensive watch given with no meaning. Not everyone realizes this and they go Christmas shopping, grumbling over the high prices. These people could buy just a simple little gift that would mean much more than big expensive gifts. The best gift that anyone can give is your most priceless possession, which is love.


WHO KILLED ME
by LARRY SWOBODA

I was sitting by the fire that night,
When something came out of the darkness;
We had a fight.
There I lay by the fireplace,
I couldn't even see his face.
After a night and after a day,
They couldn't say
If it was murder or if it was suicide
But now they know that I have died.
Now it's done. It's over now.
Who killed me? Maybe it was my pal.
Now they cover me with a flag
of red, white and blue.
Who killed me? Maybe it was you!

THE FIRST SNOW OF WINTER
by DEBBY BERGER

      Snow is beautiful
      As you can see.
      Little crystals
      Upon little trees.

      How much will come

      No one knows.
      But it bites your nose
      And stings your toes.

THE FIRST SNOW OF WINTER
by MELANIE MCCROSSEN

The first snow is a promise,
Of many things to came;
It whispers very softly,
"There's more where I come from."

The first snow is a promise,

Of a cold winter ahead;
It whispers very softly,
"I cover a land that's dead."

The first snow is a promise,

Of snowstorms very near;
It whispers very softly,
"Winter skies are seldom clear."

The first snow is a promise,

Of green fields turned to white;
It whispers Very softly,
"Sharp is winter's bite."

The first snow is a promise,

Although it melts away;
It whispers very softly,
"Remember what I say."


BLACK AND WHITE
by NANCY O'DONNELL and DEBBIE BOWE

Once upon a time in a little glade, in the forest, lived a little black squirrel and a little white squirrel. The two squirrels were prejudiced against each other because of the color of their fur, so they divided the glade in half. The rule was that they each stay on their own half.

The white squirrel knew he had the better half, so he quickly gathered all the nuts and watched that the black squirrel didn't come on his half.

One winter day Mr. Bluejay stopped to pay a visit at the white squirrel's place. He said that he had seen the black squirrel, and he was looking very thin. The white squirrel's conscience was bothering him because he knew he was guilty of deceiving the black squirrel.

Then one night he awoke and couldn't get back to sleep because his conscience wouldn't let him. As you expect, he went over and saved the little black squirrel from starvation. They became friends and forgot about the color of their fur.

The moral of this story is: Color doesn't count; it's the kind of person you are.


LOVE
Soft, blue
Spread, whisper, stop
Shades of spring
Changing
by CINDY GREEN
LOVE
Groovy, wonderful
Continuing, waiting, hoping
When will we ever learn
Heartbreak
by PAM SCHOCH
GRANDMOTHER
Tender, lovely
Blooms, kisses, bakes
Understands you
Flower
by KATHY ENGEL


The Night That I'11 Never Forget!
by DANA DENNING

It was a dark and stormy night and it was about 2:30 A.M., March 17, 1967. I was walking past an old cemetery. The reason I was walking at that hour was that my car had broken down and I was on an old cemetery road. I was going for help. As I passed this cemetery I noticed that suddenly there was a real thick fog all around me. I was trying to find my way through the fog and suddenly I tripped on something; it was an old log. I was in the middle of the cemetery. It seemed to me that the fog had drawn me to the cemetery. I looked around and I couldn't make out any of the names on the headstones. Nothing was clear to me at all. THEN! Suddenly I stumbled over a very large headstone. The letters engraved were very distinct, and so were the numbers. It read: Dana Denning, Born 1956 - Died 1968, March 17. I then realized that the day I was there was the very same death date on the headstone. All of a sudden I woke up! I had had one of the most frightening nightmares ever.


WORDS
Cruel, kind,
Biting, loving, scraping
too often said,
Weapons
by LORI PELOQUIN
HAIR
Greasy, stringy
Swings, flops, hangs
Something to pull
Mop
by PAM POLZIN
HATE
Jagged, poisonous
Burns, hurts, kills
A cobra striking
Loneliness
by ELLEN HASS


THE THUMP
by DEBBIE FENNER

One rainy day after school a little girl started walking home as usual. Suddenly she heard a thump. She turned around but saw nothing. She started walking again but all she could think of was the thumping noise she heard. She turned to make sure no one was there. The thumping stopped as she turned. She was very frightened so she started to run. The thumping seemed as though someone was running after her. She got home and told her mother what had happened. Her mother told her to go to bed and she might feel better. The little girl did as her mother said, but could not sleep. Then she heard thumping noises as if someone was coming up the stairs. She tightened up inside. The thumping grew louder as if someone was getting closer. It stopped. Someone said, "What's the matter dear," and turned on the light. The girl screamed. Then the someone left. All the girl could hear was the thumps slowly fade away.


THE DOG FIGHT
by DIANE PFEIFFER and TERRI ROSHELL

One morning Mr. Jones called his two dogs Penny and Queenie and told them that he was going to town. He was going to buy some meat for his dinner. He said that the dog who was the best behaved while he was: gone would get the bone from the meat. Then he left. Queenie said, "I'm sure our master will give me the bone. I'm a better dog than you because he always takes me on his hunts!" Penny said, "Well I'm the better dog because he always lets me guard the house and keep away the robbers and tossed and scratched The two dogs began to fight. They rolled and clawed. They rolled through the garden and knocked over all the plants. At this time Mr. Jones came home. He saw Penny and Queenie fighting and he saw his wrecked garden. Then he said, "Penny, Queenie! Stop your fighting. Look what you did to my garden. For this neither of you will get the bone!"


TUCKER
by TIM MOWER

I used to have a dog whose name was Tucker. He was very big for his breed and always getting into fights with other dogs. He never lost one! But lots of times when I would try to stop him from fighting, his opponent would get a chunk of my leg. Then, Tucker would bite the other dog all the more. Wherever I went, he was sure to follow. He was kind to kids if they were kind to him. Every night he would howl like a coyote and that's when we wished we hadn't gotten him. We got Tucker from a neighbor when he was a pup because he ate the back seat up in their car. He never did that to us though. He was a real pal!


The Most Memorable Thing About Fall
by VIVIAN SHAFER

The most memorable thing about fall is the fun we had playing in the leaves. My brother and sister and I used to take a long walk in the woods. We would find a hollow near some leaves. We would then rake them together with our hands and feet. We used to get them together in all sorts of ways. We used to jump, slide, dig, burrow and bury each other in them. We threw them at each other. Then we would collect them and do it all over again. Oh such times we had! I would like to do it all over again. But it would never be the same because we all have grown up too much. We would never have fun doing it again. I wish people would never grow up. I wish - - -.


The Most Sad Thing About Fall
by KARI ANDERSON

The most sad thing about fall is the trees. During the summer the trees look happy and look like they are talking to each other. But as summer turns to fall, the trees seem to get sleepy and then their leaves change colors as if to say that they are leaving but will be back next year. Then their last leaves fall and they wave their last good-byes to us with bare branches and are soon invisible in the flying snow.


The Cat, the Skunk and the Bear
by KATHY AMMERMAN and CINDY HENNEKINS

This story occurs on a cool, summer evening deep in the woods. The skunk is sleeping peacefully in the early twilight. The cat is casually walking around and walks right into the skunk's house. The skunk aroused from his sleep and angrily shouted, "Get out or I will spray you."
"Okay, I'11 get out," said the cat.
The skunk remarked, "Boy what a chicken!"
After a few days the skunk was looking for something to eat. Suddenly from behind a tree a bear jumped out. He chased the skunk. Nearby the cat watched anxiously.
"Help, help," yelled the skunk.
"I will help you on one condition," the cat remarked. "If you help me if I ever need help."
"I will, I will," screamed the skunk.
So the cat attracted the bear by running in front of him. The bear followed and chased the cat around and around. Soon the bear couldn't keep up any more and started home.
Soon the skunk crept up on the bear and sprayed him. The bear went whimpering away.
Moral: Do onto others as you would want them to do to you.


BASKETBALL
Exciting, heartbreaking
Run, bounce, shoot
A game of victories and defeats
Buckets
by DICK WOODCOCK


GEORGE
by LARRY MOUCHA

George is a brown and white guinea pig who loves to get attention. To get attention, he runs around, knocks over his house and squeaks. His hobbies are getting attention, watching T.V., and eating. He'll eat anything from candy to lettuce.
In the summer he likes to go outside and run around in the grass, sunbathe, and scare dogs. He likes to bite fingers when he can't find anything else to do. He drew my blood three times mistaking it for lettuce!

Excerpts taken from "Creative Voices", Published by the CF Junior High School, 1970

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