By Sarah
By Trey
Here I am chained to this pole; my whole life of fun is over. I’m the coolest car around here, I been to Pimp my ride, I have candy paint and all I’m the real deal. The teens love me I take them where they wanna go all they have to do is pay for the gas. They like to blast the music and let my trunk bang and turn on the hydraulics. I’m fly I know. Last night was crazy I was driving my homie Lil Skeeter to the mall and this other car beside me and tried to stunt on me. He asked if I wanted to race; fly as I am I couldn’t say no so I said it’s whatever. We went to an empty street and took off, I lost. My whole ego was messed up and so was Lil Skeeter, he told me don’t even bother taking him to the mall just take him home. I was cool with it but I had to stop by AutoZone for a drink. I took him home and just went to sleep. I woke up this morning and my rims were gone, they spray painted me and all that, so now I’m just ugly. But I mean I’m a be back soon because I’m a convertible 6 and I’m 2 real for this.
By Ryan
In the middle of a war a man is running away from the enemy. The enemy is ruthless and cunning but the army man runs and runs he trips over rocks branches and wrappers hides in fox holes trenches with empty boxes lying in there with the smell of dried marshmallows an rotten Twinkies some were probably some of his own Twinkies he had maybe some he ate and had a good memory of but he doesn’t have time to think of this right now the enemy followed his tracks and are gaining on him his heart is beating they get closer he starts to shake there 20 feet away now he notices a Twinkie gun loaded on the ground 10 feet away now he grabs it and starts shooting away the enemy he gets all that follow he sits there quite and still thinking of all that he got with no remorse it makes him sick but that’s the price of Twinkie war he’s sad and hungry so he grabs the Twinkie from his helmet and unwraps it with his muddy hands that have takes a bites it for the first time he it feels good it feels like freedom to relax and enjoy the little things in life.
By JaVaughn
One rainy November day, Scott stood outside of his girlfriend’s house. Afraid of what he may 
walk in on. Scared to tell the truth, afraid of what he’s been hiding for all those years. Creeping slowly to the old wooden porch, finally he reaches the door… Entering a home filled with friends and family but, not for Scott. Skye, Scott’s soon to be wife had moved on, feeling lonely with Scott gone off at war, she couldn’t take it. Scott came in not surprised by what he sees. “Skye” he says I have something to say. “What is that” she replied. “Don’t ask Don’t tell” he says as he walks back the car..
By Javaughn
In the dark with my friends doing regular Saturday night things in the woods that teens do Suddenly snap goes a branch then a whistle and a rusty laugh The sounds of the voices getting closer Daniel found an old double barrel in the woods terrified very terrified of what he hears so he cocked back the weapon on the mysterious scary person…. But little did we know that mysterious person was my beloved dog…. That night was horror that night was grief that was the night that Daisy left me….
“It took us a while to complete this. Huh, Ed?” Asks a man pulling rope while beads of sweat roll down his face.
“Yea Frank, It was hard to locate the pieces. We even had to create new ones since some of the others we either seriously damaged or lost or even completely destroyed.” Ed Replies.
“Yea….I’m so glad we were able to fix these ruins.”
“True that, we even had to scare off thieves who would try to take advantage of how the ruins were and make the damage even worse…I would hate to fix it up again.”
Frank pats Ed on the Shoulder.
“Well,…just be glad were almost done. Soon this place will be good as new. We even used more protective materials this time.”
Ed nods
“Yeah.”
There was a girl who lost her glove. She just wanted to escape the world and her life, so she ran away. It was a hard decision because she was torn about leaving her family and close friends, but she knew she had to move on and get help. While running away as fast as she could, her purple glove slipped off her hand. When her parents couldn’t find her and called the Police, the only thing they found was that purple glove. But now this girl is better now, she’s gotten help and ready to go back home. She realized there’s always help, it’s just hard to get sometimes. Her glove has been returned, and now she’s home, to live a brighter life.
No light shown through the thick clouds that covered the sun. She sat beneath the old, twisted tree, watching the last of it’s leaves float across the glassy surface. These were the days she loved the most, when she could enjoy the solitude, she wished for all of her days to be like this. As she watched the scene before her, she thought back to the days when things were good. When her brother had taken her fishing by the pond and had taught her to read the animals’ tracks in the forest.
But that had all changed since the war. No longer was there a luscious forest, where for so long she had watched the small creatures play, no longer were there golden fish that swam just below the water’s surface, occasionally coming up to nibble at the bread she threw in the water, no longer was there soft moss to lie on and watch the long branches sway with the breeze, now she sat beneath the only tree to be seen for miles, now twisted and lifeless, the moss had dried up, scattered with the once beautiful fish’s bones, the water was now tainted with black oil, and the grass was no longer in
existence, only ashed dirt remained. The air was cold from the lack of sunlight, the only warmth she felt was from the hot tears that poured down her face. She wished the world could just learn to get along, because no one could except each other for who they were, because no one could stop criticizing each other for race and religion, because of all that her brother was dead, and the once warm and green earth was now burned and covered in ash.
She wiped her tears as she began walking back to her house. Though house was not the word for this atrocity, more of a shanty. It was nothing more than a pile of sticks and some tin tied together with wire cords. She placed her basket of roots and , the small amount, of other edible objects that she could find on the ground.
She had high cheekbones and a small, slightly pointed nose, her hair was black with frizzed curls, she wore a tattered dress, and a small locket, given to her by her brother.
As she set the fire, she made her bed, preparing for one of many long sleeps she would have to pass the days during this desolate time after the war.
I am a tree and as you can see I use my own paper. I have been around for hundreds of years and people have used and abused all of my family. Never have I been so alone until they took my brother, Willow. I have slowly lost all of my leaves and slowly fade into the ground as if I was never here and yet I have not written to a single human before, but I have to let you know that I am a tree. I do not appreciate anything you humans have done in the stretch of my long life. Now I stand all alone in a wet and foggy meadow.
Shallow waves breezed against the broken timber. Johnny dangled his feet into the water as he gazed into the distance. The storm clouds had now cleared, no longer were they angrily ribbing at the sky, but now they sat motionless in gentle swirls of violet and orange across the sky. It was odd how the setting portrayed his emotions. He looked into the water, lightly tinted with orange and pink from the sky’s reflection. The water was now settling, a perfect surface. But as he scanned across the array of colors, sharp objects pierced the surface, creating imperfection in the scene. They were rooftops of the surrounding houses. Scattered across the surface were tattered clothes, broken boards, and numerous personal possessions that had been washed out by the storm. This man had lost everything, but at the moment, he cared not for that. He was just taking in the situation. He had gone through so much, and now this. But he was still alive, wasn’t he? He had to have purpose if he had lasted this long. And now he had to take everything one step at a time.
Don’t worry about how you’ll end up, worry about where you are now, what you are going to do. It will turn out okay, you got this far. Just have to keep the strength to keep going. It doesn’t matter where you are, just if you have the power to move on, if you have that, you’ll go far.
The 360 West Project 