The Guard

  The first time I saw her, I was hiding behind a bush that had been freshly trimmed and I knew she had seen me. She wasn't as obvious as I, but theway she was staring at the bush was almost menacing. I had my left hand clenched around my gun holster and my right was against the ground for balance. I was out of breath and hoping I had lost the guards protecting her.They were very oblivious to just how talented I was then. Now I stood in almost the exact same spot, almost three years later, only as I was looking at the princess, I was glancing down. My left hand was no longer on my gun, it was covering her mouth. My right hand was holding her next to me. She was trying to get away desperately and I was giving up. I could hear her father, the king, shouting her name. No one knew how she had just suddenly dissappeared but tey did know that she was now gone. Who knew somone as kind as I could commit such a terrible deed?
I know what you must be thinking. I am insane. I said I was so kind but I just kidnapped the Korean princess. But I do it for good reason. My own queen, the queen of Spain is trying to take revenge on Korea for taking the life of our own king. Her plan is to kill the princess, but after visiting Princess Ali for two years, I could not just kill her. So I have decided to go against one of the only people I trust. Now, I must take care of Ali.
I told her two nights ago that I would be here at this time on this very night. It was now 11:30 and she was resisting. "Stop!" I hissed in her ear. Ali was trying to get away and I couldn't let her. My energy was draining quickly. I knew we had to get a ship before thay all left port at 12. It was going to be close but I knew we could make it as long as she remembered why we were fleeing. I told her again "Stop!," more meaningful this time and she did.I started walking with her in front of me. Ali was whispering something to me but it was so muffled between my fingers that I couldn't hear her. I removed my hand so that she could talk freely. Her hair smacked my face as she whipped her head around to see what was behind us. Ali's eyes got wider and a scared expression crossed her face. All she could manage to say was, "look." I turned my head sharply to see what was there. I realized what it was immediately even though i could barely see my hand in front of my face. I knew we were in danger and I knew we had to ge tout of here. Fast.
I let go of her and grabbed only her hand. I started sprinting now. I could see my breath and hear shouts behind us. Ali screamed. They were gaining on us. We reached the docks and as I looked for a boat, I noticed an opening. I jumped off the dock and I felt Ali let go of my hand. But it was too late. We were already suspended over the cold water. When we hit the water, I felt a sharp sting and I could feel her dress surrounding us. I struggled to find Ali so we could resurface but all I could find was her dress.
I found her hand in what seemed like hours later. I grabbed it and swam to the surface. When we reached it, I gasped and almost choked. I glanced at Ali and I swear she could have been dead. Maybe she was. But that didn't matter at the moment. I looked at Ali again. Her face was pale but she was alive. She was coughing as well. We moved under the dock and fell into an eerie silence. The only thing I could think about now was finding a boat to escape on. We had lost the other guards and I was pulling Ali up onto the dock now alongside me. I saw a boat a short way down the dock. As we got closer, I saw it's name. The Spanish Armada. This had bad luck written all over it but we boarded anyway and set sail.
--Karley

Fight Against Depression

Every day drags on and on. Every day, I find myself searching for the right way to lead my life. None of these days do I ever have any success in finding what I need. None of these days do I ever feel happy. I used to be one of those typical girls who is always laughing, smiling and playing with her friends. Now, I am the complete opposite of that girl. She is foreign to me, and I do not know her anymore. I wish I could return to be that girl who I once was, but she is forgotten. Now, I strive to keep control over my strong thoughts and emotions. Often, it doesn't work and I find myself in my room, crying myself to sleep. I know now that I will never be happy and that I will never find peace until the day I die. I used to think that that thought was depressing, but now I take it as an everyday fact that is no big deal. "Hey Hilary!" my brother calls from downstairs. I perk my head up, annoyed that he has disrupted my sleep. "You wanna go outside and play ball or something?" He should know better than that. I know that he only asks to keep giving effort to make me better. But I also know that each time it will never help and that he should stop trying. I will never be better. I don't respond and lay my head back down on my desk again. "Hilary!" he shouts. "C'mon, answer me!" Stupid big brother, I think angrily. I still don't say anything and close my eyes, trying to relax. "HILARY!" He bangs on the door persistently. "I hate you!" I yell finally. "Go away!" There is silence. None of us says anything as we both realize that I have finally said the words that have been lingering around the whole month, ever since Mom died. "Please, come on, Hilary. We can do something fun." I return his pleas with silence. After a while, I hear him shuffling away, his feet dragging against the wooden floor. If it had been before all of this, I would have run out and screamed that I really loved him and that I was sorry. I would have felt guilty for all of the silent treatments I'd given him. But today I have a plan that will surely make me happier. I sigh and stand up, striding towards the window. It is already open, and the delicate curtains flow gently in the wind. I stare down at the ground that is far away enough to be falling for more than five seconds. I swallow hard and sit on the windowsil, preparing to fall. Don't do it. I bite my lip and swing my leg over so that I'm halfway outside. Don't. Do. It. Listen to me. I reach a hand to my face and realize that it is wet with salty tears. I taste them. The salt tastes good on my tongue. It's refreshing. Don't do it. Please. There is more to life than this. You can make it. It's hard, but you can do it. I hesitate, but swing my second leg outside, trying to ignore my thoughts but at the same time listening to them. I am now ready to go. All I have to do is perform the last action that would send me flying. After five whole minutes, I am still sitting on the window. Finally giving up, I climb back inside and shut the window. The curtains fall still. That's it. You can make it. I promise. As my mind told myself these things, I cried harder and whispered aloud, "I'm trying, I'm trying."

The Storm

Waves upon waves strike the boat causing it to rock violently. Captain Bill was running around the ship franticly getting the life boat ready for his grandson (mark). Moments later a large wave collapsed on the boat tearing it to pieces until nothing was left but rubble and pieces of wood. When Mark arrived at nightfall it was raining and the wind speed was over 90 miles an hour. He notified the police, but they said it was too dark stormy to go looking for his grandfather. After weeks of searching they pronounced him dead. The family mourned for several days until the phone rang at their house. It was their grandfather. He told them the elaborated tale of how he survived during the hurricane. After The current pulled him under the popped back up near a large piece of wood. He grabbed the wood and saw a canteen of water floating in the water. He survived off that until he reached land and used the nearest phone possible. Later that week he was reunited with his family. - Collin

"What Happened Last Night"

Last night was eventful. The Duke TIPsters were all going to spend the night at a gas station. This gas station was an extraordinary one with a buffet and clean water. When we arrived to the gas station, we all got our luggage out. Karley, Carrington, Veronica, Abbey and Wesleigh were all spending the night. We were so excited. The rule was two to a room, and that was how it was going to be. The room pairs were: Karley was by herself, Carrington was with the counselor, Veroinca and Wesleigh, and Abbey and I. The reason Karley was by herself was because she hated being with a roommate, and Carrington didn’t want to be with anyone but an adult. After the buses reached the gas station, we all went to the rooms that the gas station conveniently had in the story above the store. We all settled in, put our luggage down, and searched the place. There was a huge buffet setting, and a pool. We were not allowed to swim, for we could not leave the 2nd floor. We all decided we were hungry, and decided to spend our money on a chocolate cake from room service! We ordered that, and the older kids decided they wanted to have a pizza party. They asked if they could use our adjoining room and I said “No,” but they used it anyway. So, we have a lot of older kids in our room talking about things we didn’t want to talk about. Karley and I went to her room. And, with just my luck, in the span of that two minutes, the cake had arrived and I didn’t get a single bite of it! There was a few little drops of chocolate sauce left and I licked those up as fast as I could when the older kids weren’t looking. We finally got tired of the whole pizza party in our room thing and we tried to push them all out. They didn’t take us seriously at first, but then we pretty much said “GET OUT”!!!!! and they left. They left and then we had our own little “pick on ‘Peanut Butter’ bash” where they sarcastically tormented me! WE all had to go to bed at 11:00 and that is what we did. We all got in our beds and all of us talked. We texted other people, and talked to our roommates. My roommate, Abbey, had a whole lot to say about the class she was in, and so did I. DukeTIP’s weekend studies was the best experience ever and I want to stay again. -Virginia "Peanut Butter"

The bat felt heavy in her hands. Her blood pumped as she crept along the dimly lit corridor. The smell of chemicals flooded her nose as she peered around the corner. In it was only test-tubes, polished floors and jet black lab counters. She dragged the metal bat along the floor and continued on past the empty room. She was wearing a blue and white striped t-shirt and ripped jeans; not the usual attire for breaking into a secret lab. Both were dirty. The flouresent lights flickered. Her eyes peered around the next doorway. He was standing by a metal sink, filling a vile up with water. She raised the mbat up off the flooor and swept into the room. Silently she creeped closeer to the man. he began to turn and barely had enough time to glimpse the girls milky silver glass eyes before he blacked out forever. She stepped back and admired her work, admired the breathless body on the floor. She had reached her goal. -Veronica

Anna's Mistake

Anna was in a ferocious fight with her mom one night. She was very frustrated and stormed out of the house and entered her BMW. She took off in a fit of rage cutting people off and turning short corners. As she approached a light it turned to yellow. Her being a young driver didn’t judge the light correctly and ran a red light. Well at the exact same moment a train was coming and collided with Anna’s car. The car burst into an inferno of fire causeing Anna to die instantly. Cops were on the scene within minuets. They called her mother and she began o wail loudly knowing that her daughters last words were “I HATE YOU MOM”.

The Event

When will

It

Begin? At once,

Over tme, In

Proportion?

Where will it

Begin? In the mind,

In

Reality, Through Vision?

Why must

It

Come? An event so huge.

Changing people all over. Mentally

Or Physically?

For some,

It is

To start

Fresh.

For others,

To go

Into

Devastation.

But either way it

Is

Life-changing.

But life-changing

how? In a

Good way?

In a bad way?

Or

Unsettling?

~Lauren

This blackboard stands in front of me
filled with words and drawings
All of which i can't begin to fully understand


Abbey

BlackBoard

This Blackboard stands in front of me
filled with words and drawings
All of which i can not begin to fully understand

Color

They are released
Not one at a time
But in a wave of color
As individuals that come together

They follow the roads
The alleys
But they don't have a destination

They keep going
Some come to a stop
In gutters or storm drains
But others go high as buildings
As far as the ocean

On the streets of San Francisco
The color is found
--Karley

The Beast

I stand staring, and the object of my gaze stares back, daring me. Daring me to walk into its mouth and sacrifice myself, for I am staring at the Beast.
And the Beast stares back.
The Beast is not large, but it is still deadly. The Beast has no claws, nor teeth, nor spines. It has no poison or stingers. It has no appendages to wrap you in and steal away your breath with. It makes no difference.
The Beast is still deadly.
After a long time, I take a breath. I take a long, deep breath and prepare myself.
And I walk into the mouth of the Beast.

-Sabrina

Escape from the Mutants

My name is Ali. Cool fact about me: I am the last human being on Earth.
I am running. Running as fast as my legs will go. My breath is coming in gasps. There is a stitch in my side, but I must keep running, running to save myself. Why am I running so fast? A pack of genetically enhanced animals that are engineered to kill humans are chasing me.
My legs are giving out. Oh, God.I can't run any more. Please, make them kill me fast. I don't want to have to feel them maul me. I can't run. I'm falling. Suddenly, the ground gives out and I fall into a pit. Bad news: the walls are too high for me to climb out. Worse news: the walls are low enough for the animals to jump IN. Finally, some good news: most of the animals run right past me. Only one is left. It is a cat, just like the one I used to have before the bomb hit and everyone was killed. Except for me. My eyes tear up and I squeeze them closed, expecting to die at any moment. It stares at me, trying to decide how it should kill me, no doubt. After an eternity, it tenses and jumps. I curl up into a ball, as if that will help me now. Wait a minute. I'm still alive. Where is it? It is at the other side of the pit. What happened? It takes me several moments before I realize that it jumped over the pit.
With a contemptuous flick of its tail, it races off. As it disappears, I sigh in relief. "Thank you", I murmur. I am safe.... for now. ~Carrington

Whirlwind

A whirlwind of color
Filling my sight.
Red, orange, yellow, brown,
All falling from great height.

They're blurring together,
Swirling around,
Traveling far
Before finding the ground.

Such a display,
It's Nature's crown.
I so hate to see
The party die down.

-Sabrina

Rain

Rain falling,
falling in turrets,
drenching everything it meets.
Rain is falling,
falling in sheets,
falling in waves.
Rain is falling fast,
bringing life
to everything.
And I stand there,
stand in the rain,
feeling it drench me,
and give me new life.

An Impenetrable Shell

I sat in my room, alone. As I usually did. Teetering on the edge of the bed. Was I going to fall backwards or get up and do something to distract my mind? I could never decide, as usual. So I sat and brushed my hair with my mother's old brush. I brushed and brushed and brushed until my hair was silky smooth and my arm was shaking with fatigue. Even then I kept brushing. My nose was scrunched up, my eyes squinted, my mouth a thin line. I waited patiently for the tears to come, to drip down my face and let all the sadness inside me out. I waited to deflate like a taut balloon. Instead, I felt anger building inside of me. The hard shell around my heart growing thicker and more impenetrable. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the tears to come, willing the dam to crack and the gallons of water behind it to surge forth. I brushed and brushed. Nothing happened. The tears failed me again. And once again I sunk into exhaustion, my eyes still dry and my heart still hardened with a fury that would never leave me alone no matter how hard I tried to cry.

by elisabeth

Home

Home is a special thing. It is the roots of family. You cannot touch it or see it or hear it or smell it or even taste it, but it is there. If you take a moment and stop whatever you are doing, you can feel Home inside of you. It is a lovely thing; an everlasting, binding contract between a group of people that makes them a family. It keeps them together through thick and thin, though not always physically. You may be out of touch with your family or you may feel as if you do not love them, but deep down inside I know you do. There is and will always be a bright spark within your soul that links you to your Home. Your family may not be with you, but they are there. A house is usually a shell or case for Home. It protects Home and keeps it safe. Home does not need a house, though. It is strong enough to survive without one. A house can also be devoid of Home, an empty shell without life, without joy. Home does not need to stay in one place, in one house. It moves with the flow of the family. Every time I cross the threshold of my house, a soft warmth blossoms inside my chest and spreads to my fingers and toes. A sigh of relief. Home. I’ve made it back again, safe and sound. At the center of Home is love; a rock-hard foundation that can survive eons of grief and millenniums of misunderstanding. Not that I would ever or could ever wish that upon a Home. Home is like a delicate flower. Without constant tender, loving care it will wilt and one by one the petals will drop off; although, it is not altogether impossible to coax back to life again. Some must work hard to preserve house and Home, while to others it comes more naturally. All in all, home is a thing that should never be forgotten or taken for granted, for someday you may find that it is the only thing you have left to hold on to. It is a more priceless thing than anything else you will ever behold in this world. And I feel for those who have never seemed to find it.

by elisabeth

dedicated to abigail

Untitled

The car rumbled down the rutted dirt road, through the countryside. Clouds of dust billowed into the air behind it. In the back, a girl perched on the edge of a worn leather seat. Hands folded, eyes closed. Her eyebrows were furrowed together, forehead creased in consternation. Beneath her closed eyelids, her eyes flickered nervously. In her mind, a thousand things were banging on the inside of her head, telling her to wake up and face reality.
A scream. The crash of a shattering plate. Her father's face, twisted in rage. A shard of porcelain flung at her. A searing cut. A slamming door and rain, rain. A wet dress clinging to her legs and back. Blood running down her face.
Gingerly, the girl lifted a finger and traced the ugly cut below her left eye that was only just beginning to heal. She could feel her heart hammering inside her thin frame, causing torrents of blood to rush through her veins. The girl hugged her legs to her chest, resting her chin in the comfortable divot created by her two knees. She gazed absentmindedly at the dry landscape passing by. The dust had created a thin film that clung to the window, blurring the edges of the sporadic landmarks.

by elisabeth

A Uniform World

Every picket straight
Every garden carefully tended
Every shingle in perfect line on
Every roof
Every window pristine and polished but
Every curtain drawn
Every sidewalk devoid of litter
Every yard strangely empty
Every window box bright and blooming below
Every vacant frame
Every gate kept wide open but
Every door shut tight and locked

by elisabeth

I'm a Survivor and the Pain is Gone

Survivors crawl as a fire sets
Falling long and hard the wind pets the crust
In desperate need of blood, oranges are a must
Smiles emerge as the wings appear
Pain is extinguished as red disappears
Hearts quicken from the shock
They realize the carnival was almost the end when
Lapid flicks of orange rose to the bridles
Paper wrapped up those orange blows
And pureness was restored when the orange was dimmed to the irises

-Adrienne

The Storm

A drum beat
Timing each oar thrust
Echoing inside each man's chest
Everyone's heart beating to the same rhythm
A cold as cold as hell
Chilling to the very soul
Freezing your heart
Fighting for the will to live
Wave after wave
Fading hope
Into a world of darkness
Massive towers of water
They do not lose faith like you
Rearing their foamy heads
Prepare for death
Prow tips upward
Don't let go
Climbing up
You cannot win
You have come to the end, it is finished
Then, a turn of the tides
Prow crashes through wave's crest
And glides away
Into calmer waters

by elisabeth

Tribute to the Fallen

Survivors of the war torn lands
The cry of falling men
Their mingled voices resonate into the fading orange sun
A smile that hints no joy, no mirth
Pain, piercing pain, feels like
A gaping chest wound in the heart
Life like a twisted carnival
Lapid from the outside, but cruel and ruthless
Blank paper with no words
make me again pure

by elisabeth

A Little Drop of Sunshine

She stared out from the shaded window an inch away from her nose, resting her her heavy chin on her hands. She watched longingly as the waves gently tackled each other, racing to the wet, sandy beach. She watched as a seagull flew effortlessly in the air, as it glided down hovering over the big blue ocean searching. Searching for what? Food? A fish right beneath the surface, one dive from being its dinner? The only thing stopping it, making it hesitate, was the cool water's misleading surface.
She peeled her eyes from the bird and brought them to the sun. The brilliant golden circle in the pink streaked sky touched the oceans edge. Its warmth burned her blue irises, so she looked at its layered reflection mirrored on the water beneath its golden glory. She felt like the bird as she looked at God's creation from the shaded window; Just like the refraction misled the seagull, the sun misled her. How could something so beautiful, so splendid, so warm and inviting be so harmful to her tender, pale skin. She envied its warmth that she could never feel.
She limited her vision to the cool glass in front of her face. She saw the pale reflection of a girl with brown curly hair that brushed her shoulders staring back at her, only a hint of sunshine sparkling from her eyes.
She sighed as she looked back at the sun's reflection. If she could just have one drop of its golden sweetness- sweetness like honey. One that wouldn't burn her skin or make her itch. One that she wasn't allergic to. She would be happy. She sighed as she reluctantly turned her attention to her room. Her trap. Her world without a sun. Bamboo floors showed clearly in the open space. Ocean blue bed spread lay neat;ly near the swaying hammock. Green walls the color of nature- the color of grass and spring leaves, were scattered with hanging paintings of forests, beaches, and nature; The things she couldn't experience as long as the sun shone. She had the wood, the ocean, and the green grass, but the only sunshine she had was what her eyes carried.
She noticed the blank easel that stood in the corner of her room. Paints open and brushes clean, lying on the desk next to it. She brought the easel by the window that she had so many times stared out of, imagining the sun's warmth upon her skin. She needed to catch the sun before the ocean swallowed it.
"Just one drop," she thought, as she dipped the tip of the brush into the yellow paint.
"Just one little drop." She stuck her tongue out in concentration, pulling hate sun onto hate easel. The sun had left and the silvery moon ruled the cool night air now, but Sophie smiled with a sparkle in her eyes because she finally had her little drop of sunshine.

-Reagan

Ocean (Part 1)

I never believed that it would do this. I never believed that it could. I mean, the ocean had always been the friend I never had. I used to sit out on the rocks for hours on end, knees pulled to my chest, watching the great blue waves throw themselves against the craggy shore. The sunset had always cast ruby-red rays over the glistening sapphire water, making it look as if there were millions of pinprick stars in the sky. But now... now all I can see are rivers of blood against a sea of tears. Her blood. My tears. The ocean no longer deserves any description of beauty and tranquility. I used to think of it as wonderful, but I now see it for what it really is - a ruthless, cold-blooded killer.
The ocean took my older sister, and by doing that, the ocean took me.
Three months. Three months of pain and suffering at my loss, my sister's loss. She was the only one I ever really cared about, and the sole person that felt the same about me. Now, with her gone... I am alone.
I lean back against a coarse gray boulder on the seashore and inhale the sharp aroma of salt and seaweed. Can i eave the ocean? I wonder, and then I snort aloud, "Can I jump over it?"
A couple walking their dog along the shoreline glance at me strangely, at my mascara-streaked face, and pick up their pace. I can't blame them.
For so long I have wanted to turn my back on my sister's killer, the glistening, roiling ocean that had once been my only salvation from this cruel and desolate world. Now I cannot bear to turn away from it. Every day I come to this spot, telling myself that tomorrow I won't return, but I always do.
-Kinsey D.

Escape

Life is a bottle full of liquid.
Inside flows
knowledge
personality
soul.
But the liquid is easily
manipulated
by others.
Give it a shake.
It sloshes around.
Talk to it.
Vibrations stir the surface.
Shift near it.
It is disturbed.
But even if you stand perfectly still
Ignore it.
Do not touch it.
Maybe even walk
away from it.
The surface of the substance
still moves.
It twitches
cringes
shivers
convulses.
Wanting to escape
the clutches
of its name.
Yet trapped
in its walls.
Capped in silence.
Motionless.
And yet it moves.
Making us wonder.
Should it be full
or empty?

Not near

Once upon the midnight way
a man and woman lived
but they are not near, not near
oh no they are not near, not here

The man once said to woman
I love you with all my heart
so why, tell me, so why, so why
why is the love not near, not near
the love is not near, not here

A man loved a woman
and from them a child born
but the fathers not near, not near
the fathers not near, not here

and the child grew to a man
and he lived a happy life
but his parents not near, not near
both parents not near, not here

and the child had a daughter
and despite her fathers upbringing
her family was there, was there
her family was there, was near

---Duke TIP student

Untitled

A young girl,
survivorly falling into the orange sky.
on the way down she smiles
trying to forget the pain.
her heart spins in circles
like a carnival packed with people
she feels strangely lapid
sort of like a fresh pack of paper.
What does this mean?, you ask
Ask her,
shes the purest of us all.

~~~Dajuan

Age

Gnarled hands and crooked bones restrict your fingers
Ink and lead weigh down your palms
Eyes remain teary
Age has filled your mind
Age has crippled your body
You'll die with no written story

Kiki Soare

This is a prologue from a story, so if it feels incomplete than that's why.

Fall. It's fall when the leaves change, when the world is awash in new colors. It's fall when the days start to shorten, and night emerges. It's fall when everything starts to change and get ready for new things coming. It was fall when I met Matteo.

Before him I had always been somewhat lonely. It wasn't so much that I had no friends, rather I felt like none knew me. None could tell you I loved to dance. None could tell you fall was my favorite season. None could tell you my favorite color was red. Matteo could. Matteo always remembered what I told him, and what I didn't tell him he would ask.

I think that's why I loved him. I say 'loved' because I don't know what he is to me now. He still has a place in my heart, he always will, but I don't trust him, not anymore. And if you want to love someone, you have to trust them.

It was fall when Matteo won my heart. It was fall again when he broke it.

The Crying Sky

The sky was crying. Transparent sloshing tears bombarded the earth, quenching the thirst of dry grasses and contributing to the vast ocean that went on for miles and miles in front of her. She lay still on the soaked ground, hands and feet sprawled out as if she were making a snow angel. Her hair was matted and as tangled as the blades of grass that were intertwined between her clenched fists. Salty tear-stained cheeks were cooled by the harsh winds that were raging all around her. She felt as though the world was coming to an end as she watched the grieving sky sob above her. Her slender leg rose slightly off the ground, and she stared blankly ahead as her pointed foot traced meaningless shapes in the air. She drew a stick figure with a circular head and skinny limbs, and then another, right next to the first. Her leg than lifted slightly, and she traced a heart around the two invisible figures. For a moment she kept her leg suspended in midair, concentrating solely on the sky's tears. Then, in one slow, precise motion, she drew an X through her creation. Her leg fell back down next to her resting one, and she closed her eyes as she emphasized with the sky. She knew how it felt, how no mater how hard you tried, the tears would come and they wouldn't stop coming until you felt numb and empty and done feeling sad. That's exactly how she felt. She was done feeling sorry for herself. Her tears had dried, and her heart had stopped pounding. She simply needed for the memories and the pain to be washed away, to seep into the ground along with the sky's misery. She needed a new beginning. And that's exactly what the sky was helping her do. As she gazed up at the raging storm above her, she outstretched one palm towards the heavens and smiled faintly. A soft whisper escaped her lips. "Don't worry sky, you'll be done feeling sad soon."

The Perfect Society

This poem was inspired by picture called "The Village of the Mermaids" by Paul De Vaux

By: Ashley

They stare
One-by-one, each 5 feet apart
Every one of them exactly the same
No one has their own personality
You can see the mountain view
You can imagine that crystal blue sea
But can they?
To them life is boring and plain
They don't realize that life is moving to fast
They don't know what their missing
If only they could turn around
And see the true beauty in life

Duke TIP Creative Writing

Hello, my name is Lauren. I flew across the country, from California, to take this Creative Writing course offered by Duke TIP. In these past two days, I have learned that struggling in writing is common--and moreover, natural.

I would like to thank Anna, Marshall, and all of my classmates for contributing to such an intellectual environment in which the exchange of ideas is welcomed.

Lauren
Duke TIP Creative Writing Participant
Palos Verdes Peninsula High School
Class of 2012

Welcome

Welcome to Tipsters Write, a blog of the creative writing works from students of the Duke University Talent Identification Program. Read on to enjoy original poems, stories and essays crafted by our talented contributors!