Where Am I? Sitka Story Lab Student Anthology
The Island Institute's Sitka Story Lab program released this new book of Southeast Alaskan student writing in May 2016. Called Where Am I?: Stories of Strange Landscapes, Wrong Turns, and New Worlds, the anthology features fiction, non-fiction, poetry, and zany creative experiments that convey the disorientation and the discovery that young people experience, from being in the wilderness to simply growing up. The young writers come from Sitka, Hoonah, Haines, Wrangell, and Skagway, and are as young as nine years old and as old as eighteen. "The writing ranges from fantastic and playful to emotionally moving and dark," said Story Lab Coordinator Sarah Swong. "I'm impressed at how creative and varied these writings are, and at how open students were to feedback and improving their work." The project offered students the chance to write a piece for publication and to hone their writing with an editor.
The Island Institute's Sitka Story Lab program released this new book of Southeast Alaskan student writing in May 2016.
Called Where Am I?: Stories of Strange Landscapes, Wrong Turns, and New Worlds, the anthology features fiction, non-fiction, poetry, and zany creative experiments that convey the disorientation and the discovery that young people experience, from being in the wilderness to simply growing up. The young writers come from Sitka, Hoonah, Haines, Wrangell, and Skagway, and are as young as nine years old and as old as eighteen.
"The writing ranges from fantastic and playful to emotionally moving and dark," said Story Lab Coordinator Sarah Swong. "I'm impressed at how creative and varied these writings are, and at how open students were to feedback and improving their work."
The project offered students the chance to write a piece for publication and to hone their writing with an editor.
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Small Sparks<br />
Jing O’Brien<br />
“Look, I’m bleeding,” I say, squishing the blueberry in my palm.<br />
Purple lips part, revealing purple baby teeth, as my sister laughs<br />
and crushes her own handful. “Me too, see?” she says. Juices trickle<br />
down her arm like a stream after new rain. “Girls, have you filled<br />
your bowls yet?” my mother calls from the house. I blink as I look<br />
down at our empty bowls. Three berries fall from my sister’s hand,<br />
each singing a short tune as they collide with the sunkissed metal.<br />
“Now we do,” she whispers. We smirk at our own cleverness, a<br />
master plan of rebellion in my five-year-old mind. I skip towards a<br />
nearby bush. I stick out my short arm, straining to reach a fat berry.<br />
My sister follows, her small shadow dancing behind her, our feet<br />
toeing the edge of the creekbed. The branch snaps--we fall. The<br />
six foot ditch buries us in it’s depths. I get to my feet, unscathed,<br />
but muddy. Panic courses through my body as I realize I can’t<br />
climb out. I’m dying, the first thought in my overdramatic mind.<br />
As imagination takes flight, I start to cry, hot tears running down<br />
my face, leaving muddy trails. “Don’t be scared, we’ll get out, some<br />
how,” my younger sister whispers, as she grasps my muddy hand in<br />
her own.<br />
The cold bites my face as I stare down the snowy slope. Legs shake<br />
with anticipation. Shivers inch up my spine that have nothing to<br />
do with the cold. “Ready?” my dad smiles, his eyes dancing with<br />
amusement. I brush frosty hair from my face, swallowing fear down<br />
my throat. “Of course,” I scoff, too young and daring to admit<br />
fear. Carefully I position myself, taking a deep breath of the icy<br />
air. Snowflakes fall, melting when they hit my face. I shove my ski<br />
poles into the white ground, push off and fly down the hill. Faster<br />
and faster, the bleached land a blur of winter wonder. I laugh.<br />
A blur of red streaks through the bushes weaving a complex pattern<br />
throughout the evergreens. The crashing of bushes follows the<br />
German Shepherd as it lunges after the chicken, dewdrops clinging<br />
Southeast Alaska <strong>Student</strong> <strong>Anthology</strong><br />
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