APRIL Student Writing Gallery

April 26, 2016 | 826 Blog Post

Each month, we feature EIGHT new pieces of student writing on the TWENTY-SIXTH of the month. (Get it?) This month, we are are featuring writing from our Drop-in Writing programs at Ypsilanti District Library and Detroit Public Library branches.

Ypsilanti and Detroit Library Drop-in Writing Programs

Alma Varela, 10
Dear iPod
Clippert Academy
Wee-Bots Drop-in Writing at Detroit’s Campbell Library

Dear iPod,

Sorry I lost you. How’s life? I’m good, and you? I saw you last when I was eight. How’s your screen? Not broken, I hope. I am in fifth grade. My birthday already passed. Oops, I almost forgot. Happy birthday. I hope you forgive me for forgetting where I left you because I’m not even sure where I left you. I hope you’re in good hands. Please don’t be slow on your Internet just because you’re mad. It doesn’t mean you have to give a bad attitude. One thing that’s good is I am going to have your cousin, the neon iPod blue back. I hope you send me who your new owner is because I just want to make sure you’re in good hands. Don’t forget to take photos and send them. Oh, here’s my phone number so you can text me. It is (725) ***-****. Call me, iPod. One advice is try not to download games, please, because you’ll get shut down. I wish you were here. Why don’t you come back? I hope you’re happy.

Alma Varela, Your Owner

Denise Angel-Arriaga, 7
The Raindrops in Trouble
Bennett Elementary
Wee-Bots Drop-in Writing at Detroit’s Campbell Library

One day, I was in the rain forest and I saw a green dinosaur. I was scared and I slid down the dinosaur’s tail. I went to the river. I saw a raindrop friend, Emily, go to the ocean. We found more friends and we played with the ocean. I saw a green fish and we played with the fish. We all went home and I went to sleep and started the story all over again tomorrow!

Nylah Stringfellow, 9
The Wolf
Wee-Bots Drop-in Writing at Detroit’s Redford Library

Lucy was having a party at the water park. She was walking to the party room. Someone told her that there was a wolf behind her. She did not believe them. Then another person came and told her. She did not believe them either. So one more person told her that, then she looked back and she saw the wolf. She screamed very loud. Then she said, “Do you want to join my party?”

The wolf said, “Yes!”

DaJanae Lauderdale, 8
The Treasure
Weston Preparatory Academy
Wee-Bots Drop-in Writing at Detroit’s Redford Library

One morning Jimmy and Violet went outside. Jimmy said, “Let’s go find something.” Violet already left him. Jimmy decided to follow her. Jimmy and Violet found something. It was an old bottle with a message in it. It said: “My name is Captain Crook. I have hidden a treasure somewhere I cannot remember, maybe, some say.”

Jimmy got scared. Violet said, “Don’t be scared, Jimmy, pirates are not real.” Jimmy went away. Later on the ocean, Captain Crook said, “Arragh, no one’s getting me treasure.”

Meanwhile on land, Violet thought the treasure was with the pirates. Jimmy agreed. So they grabbed their boats and started to go into the ocean. Five hours later, they started to sneak into the ship. They found the treasure. Jimmy and Violet were so happy the treasure was theirs. The end.

Calvin Sears, 13
Life as a Twenty-Something-Year-Old
Washtenaw International High School
Teen Drop-in Writing at Ypsilanti’s Michigan Ave Library

Timothy Johnson was your average twenty-two-year-old college student at Hawaii State University, stressed out, smelly, and overall a poor decision maker. He was not exactly your typical charmer. We joined him during one of his many cram sessions, choking down cheap, greasy pizza and sugary coke in his dorm room, attempting and failing to study for a Calculus 102 exam. It was three in the morning and he was about to doze off, until one last bite of pineapple-onion pizza did it. BOOM! Timothy blacked out, his head slammed into his desk. He stayed asleep for a while, until he woke up to the sound of talking.

“How did I lose the ????? This has never happened before. Uh. Control-Alt-Delete? No. Control-Alt-Delete? No. Control-Alt-Delete. OH MY GOD! How’d you get in here?”

Timothy stood up, dazed, and confused. “Who, me?” he asked, slurring his words.

“Yeah, you! You’re supposed to be out there, not in here! How did you get in here?”

“Well, that depends,” said Timothy, looking around. “Where the heck am I, anyway?”

The strange man looked around frantically, then said, “”Well, uh, I don’t know how to put this simply, but you’re inside your own mind.”

Timothy didn’t believe him at all. “Oh, really, now?” Timothy inquired sarcastically. “Then who am I?”

“Timothy Jordan Johnson Jr., born on December 26, 1982. You grew up in a small village in Idaho, then your mom won eighty-three million dollars in the Mega Millions and moved you down to Honolulu when you were four. Your dad’s a soldier who withdrew from the Army after the lotto win, and your mom’s a well-known author. You’re going to school to become a doctor, but your dream job, at least, when you were five, was to be a superhero named Hot-Dog man. “Is that enough for you?”

Timothy stared at the strange man, dumbfounded. “Who, are you?”

“I am Brian, the Grand Keeper and Watcher of the Mind and All Its Secrets, Worldly or Otherwise,” he responded nonchalantly.

“Is that your actual name?” Jeremy questioned.

“No,” responded Brian. “It’s my nickname. My real names is so long that my birth certificate was broken up into three hardcover volumes.”


“No, I’m just kidding. It was broken up into four volumes actually. But back to the topic at hand. How in the name of cerebellum did you manage to get inside your own mind?”

Timothy pondered this question, taking a good look at the man asking it. He had gray skin, one eye, the horns of a ram, and a long, flowing red robe with glowing gold symbols that Timothy didn’t recognize. In his hand, he held a staff made of dark black wood topped with a large, sparkling ruby.


“Oh, yeah, right” mumbled Timothy. “All I remember is eating pizza and drinking coke, when I had one more bite and then blacked out.”

Maia Sears
The Wandering Pig, 10.5
Fortis Academy
Youth Drop-in Writing at Ypsilanti’s Michigan Avenue Library

Waddles likes to wander around a lot! He got it from his owner. His owner’s name is Tim. Tim really liked to travel around the world. But one day they had to separate from each other. Tim was about to fly to Canada. Usually, Tim just liked to travel around America. This time, Tim realized that he had enough money to fly! He flew to Canada without his little pig. Tim felt very lonely—as well as the little pig. He wanted to see his pig, but he felt like he needed to see more things in the world. Before Tim left, Waddles wandered into one of Tim’s suitcases, when Tim picked up his bag, he wondered why his bag was so freakishly heavy. He was about to see if there were any huge bricks inside. But then he glared at his watch, then Tim had a huge panic attack. He realized that he was late for his plane to Canada. Tim had to run out of the door as soon as he could. He was so nervous that he might miss his plane to Canada. Waddles wondered why the suitcase that he was in was shaking so much. As Tim got in his car, he put his suitcases all in the back of his car. He was in such a rush that he just threw all his suitcases in the back of the car. Waddles fortunately did not get hurt in any way. The clothing in the suitcase that he was in broke his fall.

Mary Nguyen, 10
Hey, Michael! Surprise!!
Brick Elementary
Youth Drop-in Writing at Ypsilanti’s Whittaker Road Library

Michael’s mother rushed home to deliver a surprise birthday present. Serena (Michael’s mother) parked in the middle of the street instead of parking her car in the garage. Without closing the door, Serena runs to her house. Ding Dong. “That’s weird,” said Michael, before opening the door. Serena asks Michael to come with her to the kitchen table to open his birthday present. Michael opens the present wrapped in multicolored foil paper to find a silver, black, white, insect-looking wind-up.

Serena yells, “Show your friends!” Michael slowly walks over to his friends who are not focused on their homework.

One of his friends whispered, “What’s that?” Frightened by the silver, black, white, insect-looking wind-up, Micheal wound up the toy as if holding a jumping spider. The wind-up squeaked, crawled, and stood up on its hind legs ten times. It stopped for ten minutes and then it started squeaking and crawling all over again. Haunted by the squeaking, crawling thing his friends ran home!

Rasyid Notowidigdo, 14
The Raid,
Lincoln High School
Teen Drop-in Writing at Ypsilanti’s Michigan Ave Library

The screams. The yells. The smell of wood crackling in a fire. The sound of blades clashing and horses galloping. Nightmare fuel for the child promised an overwhelming destiny. A destiny that could make or break the future, depending on how he handled it. All he could see was darkness, and all he could hear were the sounds of pure terror. The child sat in a feeble position with his head down and knees to his chest. He wanted to cry and wail and scream, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t make a sound, or his village’s sacrifice would be in nothing but vain. Hours passed. Eventually he recognized the sound of horses galloping away. He sat there, paralyzed for a moment. Did he want to risk going back out? Was it worth the risk?

The child paused before slowly standing up. He had to. There was no other choice. He pushed up on the floorboard of his own home, and swinging his arms so that he could try and crawl up onto the floor. Through the whole process he kept his eyes closed, as if doing so could help deter the carnage he knew awaited him. Yet, his curiosity was begging him to open his eyes to know what had exactly happened. The curious side of him was louder. Slowly he opened his eyes, and the sight before him almost made the child want to crawl back under the floor and close himself off with the loose wooden floorboard.

The only thing he noticed was still in one piece, the family heirloom sword clattered next to the bodies while within its scabbard. The child bent down to pick up the blade; hands trembling with fear. As soon as he stood back up with sword in hand, the smell of blood and decay finally hit him, as if holding the family weapon gave him full awareness of his senses. The smell was terrible, not even the village’s worst cooking could smell like the smell he found that day. He wanted to puke. But instead, he turned on his heel and carefully started stepping out of his home. Well, previous home now. He had a mental map of what he needed to do. Find the stables, hope there’s a horse, and get away from here as far as possible. So he did just that. But the more steps he took, the more he wanted to forget all caution and run. The worst part of a small village is that everyone knows everyone. This was no exception for the child, for he recognized everybody he came across. Most he wanted to mourn for, but instead, he marched on.

Soon the child found the stable, and he was relieved to find that a black gelding was left there. He remembered the horse named Atticus. He entered the stable and carefully mounted Atticus. No words needed to come out of his mouth, the two seemed to share similar goals. To get out of the ravaged village of Terra. Without a word said, the child and Atticus left the village, and not a word was said until he knew that no one could possibly overhear him. And Styx never came back.

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