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​Try Out Your Words

Round 4: Lara

11/6/2019

3 Comments

 
Picture

Harvest
Harvest represents a lot of things: surplus, riches, ending, the cold... the list goes on. Everything is doused in reds and yellows and then bleached and stripped. What does harvest mean to you? 
-Word Count: 110 - 130 words (no more, no less)
 
Expectations: 
-Remember that you are writing for the King's Academy community. Please be respectful of that community.
​-Respect the word count

-Your work should have a title--this is not part of your word count.
-Include your full name and word count at the end of your submission.
-Have fun with this challenge.

Deadline:
22:00 Monday, November 11th.

Post your story in the comments below by clicking the "Comments" button in the lower left corner. Results will be posted on Tuesdays. ​

Photo Credit:
https://artsandculture.google.com/asset/the-harvesters/PAH1oMZ5dGBkxg?hl=en-GB&ms=%7B%22x%22%3A0.5%2C%22y%22%3A0.5%2C%22z%22%3A9.06974420681414%2C%22size%22%3A%7B%22width%22%3A1.9696038134529743%2C%22height%22%3A1.2375000000000005%7D%7D
3 Comments
Isabella Lashley
11/11/2019 11:14:17 am

Bitter Harvest

He lay, smashed and panting,
like trampled apples left on the orchard earth.

The sweat and spoil in the station were thick.
His singed legs turned his stomach like rotting meat.

They called 911 and explained
“There is a man in a suit,
with hair like golden wheat,
broken on the tracks.”

He was numb and breathless,
bloody and ripe.

“He was trying to board,” they said, “but he fell through.”
“He fell through the gap
and into the tracks
and under the train.”

The bright berry lights of the ambulance blurred and
his pain shrieked, mushrooming around his body.

His bones were crumbled and his muscles sliced.

Finally, he screamed.

Word Count: 111

Reply
Taher Vahanvaty
11/11/2019 11:51:37 am

Taher Vahanvaty

Against the Grain

The blood-red grain flew through the air, scattering like sun rays on the morning dew. The sharp sickle swiftly harvested the grain leaving the once tall wheat as short stubs. Joseph walked through the miles upon miles of fields, lost in a sea of flowering stalks, a droplet in an ocean. His mind clear from the muddle of bustling train stations and the clopping of horse hooves that drowned a man not accustomed to city life. He much preferred his small cottage, nestled in the mountains of grain that piled around his walls. And as he walked, he knew not where he was going, an aimless wandering carried by the wind like a dandelion bursting its seeds into the cool autumn breeze. His heart at peace, his mind at rest.

Word Count:130

Reply
Christopher Pultz
11/14/2019 05:20:27 am

Congratulations to this week's winner, Isabella Lashley. A note from our judge, Lara Abuali:

Isabella, your choice of words and rhythm could compel even the most uptight of music teachers. Congratulations! I loved your poem.

Reply



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