4. Misunderstandings, or Taking Out the Trash
Story Excerpt, by Melissa (age 19)

In this story, Kurt wakes up on the floor of his office to find an intern named Evan sitting on his desk. Evan has a mysterious cardboard box next to him. Kurt awkwardly introduces himself, puts Evan to work, and starts to daydream...

Kurt liked to watch the hundreds of people milling about on the sidewalks, the streets, bustling to work. Like bees in a hive. He marveled at how alike they all looked, suited thoraxes and abdomens. Four out of five days, he could spot someone with the exact same suit he himself was wearing. They all pushed and slid around one another, like a drugged riot, in those early hours of the workday. All of them obstacles, faceless, nameless, hopeless. Kurt had had these thoughts before and become depressed, knowing that while he was a part of their struggle, no one wanted a part of him. He wept one time at the thought of this, but mostly it just drove him to sluggishness at work. He had winced when his boss said he was giving Kurt one last chance...

Kurt flashes back to the conversation he had with his boss, Mr. Reynolds. In it, Mr. Reynolds appoints his son, Evan, as Kurt’s new intern. Kurt wakes from his daydream to see Evan doodling obscene images and begins to rant about the faceless mass.

Suddenly, a glint of sunlight reflected off of something in the box. Kurt could have sworn it spelled his name. His hands scrambled to the top of the box and flung it open, partially tearing a corner off. In the box lay an assortment of recognizable items: his chipped blue coffee cup, his black Papermate pens, his golden nameplate. Kurt looked from his bare desk, to Evan, then back to the box’s contents. He took out his faded nameplate and sighed, seeing Evan’s contorted face. “So this is why you’re here,” Kurt murmured.

“There was a meeting at seven o’clock this morning. You weren’t there. Dad, er, Mr. Reynolds told me to clean off your desk and escort you out,” Evan said.

Kurt chuckled for a moment as he placed his nameplate back in the box. Then, in one fluid motion, Kurt palmed the box and reached back as if he were about to throw a javelin. With a noise between a cry and a yell, Kurt threw the box at the window, anticipating an explosion of broken glass by shielding his face. It abruptly ceased its flight, hitting the window and spilling its contents on the floor. Mouth a-slack, he turned toward Evan.

Evan stood up and straightened his tie. “Forget you,” he said. He tossed Kurt’s pen on the floor and walked out of the room towards Mr. Reynolds’ office.

Kurt stared at where Evan had been and sighed. Looking down at his brown loafers, he trudged over to the blood-splatter of desk apparel on the floor. Crumpled, he sat on the empty box and wept with his reflections, echoing into the harshly lit office.

5. Ego Tripping
Creative “Bio,” by Helen-Thea (age 18)

In this piece for my English class, the assignment was to accentuate our egos...