Young Writers Society

After you ve grown up, it s hard to remember what it was like on that last day of school. Nobody paid any attention to the teacher and you always waited anxiously for that announcement to come over the loudspeaker: Have a nice summer! Yet, that hardly does justice to the feeling, the excitement, the emotions that exist in the air on that very last day of school.

If you are still a kid, count yourself lucky because you ll never know that feeling again when you grow up. Not only that, but you ll forget that wonderful feeling since everyone seems to suffer amnesia once they turn 22 and get a job. For you see, the only comparable feeling in an adult s life is playing solitaire at work behind your boss back (if you don t understand, count yourself even luckier).

That last day of school is like getting a triple fudge sundae with everything on it for free. It s like getting that toy you always wanted for Christmas. It s like everything that is good in this world, and then some.

Everyone is walking with heads up and a skip in their step. Suddenly, the air feels better, the water tastes better, and even the cafeteria food is like the food of the gods. It s as if life suddenly makes sense, that this is what life is supposed to feel like.

And then everyone gets excited about what they ll be doing during the summer. There s always that group of kids who spend it all going to camp, and then there are those kids who ll be going on vacation after vacation: Grandparent s house, Florida, Washington DC, etc.

But there s always something underlying all this; the sense that you won t be seeing your friends again for three entire months. Of course, it s hard to be even the slightest bit sad on the last day of school, but, nevertheless, some kids are.

Ryan Austin was sitting in the classroom of Miss. Chapman for the very last time. Not only that, but he was also sitting in Groton Elementary School for the very last time. Next year, he would be in sixth grade at the middle school.

Unlike the other kids, he had no where to go over the summer. Like everyone else, he lived on the Navy base that exists in Groton, Connecticut. But unlike everyone else, his dad left on a tour of duty for six months just a week ago. His mother worked as a nurse at the hospital in New London, and he had no siblings. The summer was looking to be a pretty boring experience.

A lot of his friends lived nearby, of course, but he doubted that they would be home very often. Or, if they were, they always preferred playing video games or watching TV over playing outside or doing something that felt real.

The prospect of a rapidly approaching summer was not looking very promising for Ryan Austin.

Before he knew it, though, the bell rung and the teacher was bidding her last goodbyes to the class. Everyone erupted in a chorus of cheers, papers went flying up in the air, pencils darted across the classroom, and textbooks were flung against the walls. If you ve ever been to a riot, you might have some idea of what the last day of school is like.

But only some.

Kids, screaming all the way, ran through the hallways, knocking over carefully placed trophy cases, bulletin boards, and signs. Teachers caught in the tide of raucous children either pressed themselves against the wall for safety, or took their chances in the surf.

And before you knew it, it was over. The buses filled up quicker than ever and kids who usually walked home now went running. All were screaming slogans like Freeeeeeeeeeeedom!, Down with homework! , and the ubiquitous No more teachers, no more books, no more teacher s dirty looks!

This is the first chapter to a book I'm writing, so it's not done yet. But, I want to know what people think of it thus far. Also, does anyone have any better slogans that kids chant on the last day of school other than the ones listed in the story?

That is good, but what is the story about, I must know. And there is also a couple of run on sentences like No more teacher s, no more books, no more teacher s dirty looks! See, that for example is run on because you say teacher two times. Down with school! No more fool!, and No more school! And this is too, see when you use school two times, that is run on and makes the reader fell strange about that they are the same words. Maybe you can have another phrase that doesnt say school.

It's really well written and I like it (so far) but ... what's the whole point of the story going to be? Is it going to be about that kid (sorry, I have issues with names) who wasn't looking forward to Summer Vacation?

And the last day of school? Umm, "WE'RE FREE!!!!!!!!!!" seems to sum it all up for kids at my school

Yeah, never thought of WERE FREE! And what is the main idea of the story, I know someone else asked...

I'm sure students would be shouting "Finally free!", "Freedom at last!" as well on the last day of school. I know I definitely would. xD

It's very nicely written, I like your style. Very clean and down-to-earth, but with slight humurous undertone.

I especially liked the way you described the last day of school, comparing it to "a triple fudge sundae with everything on it for free" and "getting that toy you always wanted for Christmas".

I also loved "Suddenly, the air feels better, the water tastes better, and even the cafeteria food is like the food of the gods." It's a powerful sentence that everyone can relate to.

Yeah, the bit where the 'Suddenly, the air feels better, the water tastes better, and even the cafeteria food is like the food of the gods' that is exactly what it's like!

Kids yelling? I don't think it's so much what they're yelling, it's the fact everyone is yelling. That's how it's always seemed to me. You sometimes hear things like "Freeeeeedommm!" but mostly it's just people screaming for the sake of screaming.

Thanks everyone! I'll go ahead and make the changes everyone suggested, and I also have the second chapter done for your reading pleasure. I have the third done as well, but I'll hold off on posting that for a few days or so.

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Groton, Connecticut is not a small town, but is by no means a large one either. It is mostly just another one of those places where people live and do little else. There are schools and churches, of course, along with barbeque pits and furniture stores, and an I-HOP next to a McDonalds, but if it weren t for the Navy Base, it d be indistinguishable from any other place in America.

All life in Groton revolves around the Submarine Training Base that is based there. If you re not working for it, then you probably owed your job to it.

But, more significantly, the vast majority of residents in Groton are Navy people. And the public and private schools there are filled with their legions of kids.

That s what made living in Groton a great experience for, provided that you were a kid, there were hundreds of other kids to play with. You never even had to leave your street because there were probably at least ten kids living right next door to you.

Ryan Austin lived on a street, though, where there were at least fifty kids. However, it should be noted that this number always changed monthly since Navy families are always moving (each house always had a moving van parked in the driveway just in case) and also most of those fifty kids were either too old to play with Ryan or too young.

But all told, there were always at least twelve other kids who he could find. Together, they roamed the street like a vicious pack of puppy dogs.

Yet, roaming the street on bicycles and rollerblades was really only something you did when you were bored. That is, bicycling was nice, but what more could you do besides going up the hill to the black-top and then back down again? And besides, the street was where the adults always gathered. And they, like all adults, smelled. You shouldn t blame them, though. Becoming an adult is God s attempt at humor.

Now, the place to be, the place where all the cool kids went, the place that every kid found himself to be on a weekend or a sunny afternoon or a snow day, was the woods.

It was simply called the woods for reasons unknown. Some kids had tried to give it names, like Narnia, the Shire, or Endor, but all the names were stupid. For that reason, the name for the woods was the woods. Forever and ever, and then some more.

It was in the woods that Ryan found himself to be on that golden day that follows the last day of school; the day when you finally remove the shackles of adult enforced oppression and remember what it is like to be alive again.

And for Ryan, remembering what it was like to be alive again was exploring the woods.

His mom, leaving him a note with breakfast on the table and lunch in the fridge, left for the hospital early that morning, and his dad, of course, was out serving his tour of duty in a currently undisclosed location.

To add to misfortune, none of the kids Ryan hung out with were home, or they were too busy playing video games. The older kids were out and about, but they smelled worse than the adults, and, although he was told that it was impossible, he did not want to catch acne. And there were the younger kids, but it s not much fun trying to persuade a toddler that it s a very bad idea to try to swallow bees.

So Ryan went off into the woods.
Not too long ago, he would have pretended that he was an Amazonian explorer looking for the lost city of gold, or that he was a futuristic warrior who had to travel through the valley of the beasts to return the Emerald of Diaz to the Empress Nsadjinka of Palau so that the gateway to the dimension X could be opened and thereby defeat the evil ones.

But Ryan did not play pretend anymore. He was going into sixth grade after this summer, and he was far too old to be playing such games.

Yet, exploring the woods was still an experience like no other. In a way, he felt that being here was the only way a person could live. Whereas adult enforced oppression suffocated him at home and at school, there were no chores to perform, homework to be done, or teachers in tacky suits to listen to in the woods.

Today, though, he had a very different reason for being here. Today, there was no one on the street to play with. Today, his mom was working. Today, his dad was gone.

Today was boring.

It was as he was thinking this that he began to realize that he did not know where he was in the woods. It seemed that the trees were a little taller here and that there were more leaves on the ground.

He looked behind to see if he had followed a trail but he did not see any such path; there were no crumpled plants to follow or a line clearly showing from which he had come. Indeed, he had no idea where he was even a minute ago since his mind was so absorbed in his own thoughts.

So he thought back to what he learned in the Boy Scouts; if ever you are lost, then stay put and someone will rescue you. Yet, staying put did not seem to be all that attractive of a proposition in this case. First, nobody was at home. Second, nobody knew that he was here. It would not be until his mom came back at 10 pm that anybody realized he was missing, and he did not feel like waiting that long sitting on a rock with nothing better to do than cry because he was lost.

Ryan instead chose to venture back the way he thought he had come, and, if nothing else, he would at least come across a road. Connecticut had roads and people everywhere.

But as the minutes ticked on, and the trees merely got taller and the leaves merely got higher, he knew that he was still going the wrong way.

Great he muttered under his breath, now completely unsure of what to do. He had only been in the woods for half an hour now, so he knew he couldn t be that far, but it sure seemed far enough.

It was then that he saw it.

Being a very old place, Connecticut has abandoned houses everywhere. Most of these are built out of stone and pretty old, probably dating back at least a hundred years and plenty surely dating back to before the Revolutionary War. But most of them are also scarcely more than an arrangement of rocks where a wall used to be.

But this cabin he saw before him was built completely out of wood, had walls standing at least seven feet high, and had a roof that had obviously been shingled at some point in its life.

Vines were growing up along the sides and windows were boarded up. Portions of it looked as if it were about to collapse, especially the roof, which had a gaping hole in the middle of it. Piles of mud and leaves cluttered next to it knee high.

Yet, to Ryan s eyes, it was paradise.

The cabin stood not as an example of utter desolation and despair, but of pure paradise and hope. Here was a place, his place. Here was a place away from the tired boredom of home, away from the drudgery of chores, and away from the ravages of the adult enforced oppression.

Now you must understand that every person, at some point in their life, gets a vision. When adults get a vision, they usually think to themselves, That s nice, then go back to their bleak, meaningless lives under the harsh glow of fluorescent lives and forever dreading a visit from the boss.

But when children get a vision, everything they do from that point on is devoted to that vision. Every thought, every breath, every drop of drool goes toward, in some way, toward fulfilling that vision.

And now Ryan stood on the edge of his.

The cabin would become a home away from home for all kids. It could be repaired and become a place for all kids to come and play. It would be an escape, a safe-house.
It would become a clubhouse.

By the way, you may notice I changed the character's main name from Matthew Hammer to Ryan Austin.

Anyways, comments are welcomed and feel free to rip apart to pieces

*grins* Yeah I was a little confused at first ("Where'd Matthew go??? Who in the world is Ryan???") But I figured it out and it was great!! I loved the end bit about visions and how you just said it so simply ...

It would become a clubhouse.

Isn't there any more about the school and last day at school. I could strongly feel the feelings of FREEDOM and NO MORE...
Now, that I'll be 15 soon enough and I'll have to leave school after an year, something that often haunts me is the LAST DAY of school... ever. How shall be things be then? It's like a noose hanging over my head. Can you write something about that last day?