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2008 Holiday Writing Contest 2008 Holiday Writing Contest 2008 Holiday Writing Contest

	The winners: Holiday Writing Contest The New Mexican's Holiday Writing Contest garnered 226 entries this year — a wonderfully varied (and, sometimes, wildly imaginative) collection of stories, essays, and poetry by adults, teens, and children in our readership area. The Santa Fe School for the Arts and Sciences was well-represented in the winners' circle again this year, as were the Academy for Technology and the Classics, and Carlos Gilbert and Piñon Elementary Schools. We've given awards to the 25 pieces published here — and an additional 11 honorable mentions can be found at www.santafenewmexican.com/writingcontest/ — but we think of everyone who entered the contest as a winner. For putting pen to paper — or fingers to keyboard — we thank you, one and all, for challenging our minds, tickling our funny bones, and most of all, for warming our hearts in this holiday season. — Patricia West-Barker Pasatiempo contributing editor Read the full story

	The Evil Tree That Almost Ruined Christmas First Place, children's stories Val Jackson Once upon a time, a boy named Eustace, who was a very mischievous boy, got himself into the worst kind of trouble ever — even worse than the time he tried to steal a plasma TV out of a store. Because of all the bad things he did, he had no presents at Christmas, and his parents made him wash floors. This enraged Eustace so much that he decided to get back at Santa. So he downloaded a magic spell off the Internet and used it to enchant a metal tree. He programmed the tree to grow 10 times bigger and to acquire evil powers like breathing fire. Then it was supposed to attack Santa's workshop so no one would get any toys this year. But since Eustace did not have a credit card, the spell didn't work right. His parents found out and grounded him for three months. They called the National Guard to come and take the tree away — it had an evil smile — but everyone laughed about it and left the Evil Tree outside Eustace's house. The Evil Tree snuck away at nighttime and grabbed onto the tail of a big airplane. It was very windy and cold, and the Evil Tree forgot to pull his legs and branches up when they flew over the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, so he tripped and fell into Santa Fe, where a boy named Cyrus lived. Read the full story

	A Trap for Santa First Place, teens' stories William Fong Ten-year-old Ross J. Moore finished wrapping the bright golden, green, and red gift wrap around a reasonably sized box. To finish he placed the silver satin ribbon around the decorated box. Ross grabbed a musical card that played All I Want for Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth and placed it gently on the cherry-tree table. Next he grabbed a fully filled gold fountain pen and began to scribble smoothly and gently. He finished the last stroke and then taped the card to the top of the present. Done, he thought. Unable to immediately find anything to do, he thought about his holiday report for school. He had to find something interesting on Christmas day and bring it back to school. Ross always was a bit too ambitious; teachers always found it difficult to read the essays he brought back that were over five pages long. "Rossy!" yelled an all-too-familiar voice. Read the full story

	Skiing First Place, teens' essays Kiana Keleher Jupiter I sped down the icy slope, the chill wind biting my nose. All too soon, I reached the bottom and collapsed into the soft snow. My mother and I were skiing with friends in Colorado. We planned to ski to a cabin on top of a mountain and spend the last two days of the year there. I inhaled a deep breath, the scent of pine needles filling my nose. Our trail was surrounded by enormous trees, their branches heavy with white powder. Behind us, massive mountains rose, their snow-capped peaks nearly hidden with clouds. A sudden flurry of snow whirled around us, and I put out my tongue to taste it. Read the full story

	Tocayos First Place, adults' essays Charles Padilla "I want to go to Monte Aplanado," my barber said as he began to trim my hair. "My wife is going to Albuquerque tomorrow, and I have a day when I can go there." My barber and I have many things in common. I was from Mora, as was his first wife, and my father also was a barber. Since my father's death, my barber visits were like a homecoming for me. The barbershop smells, the talk, laughter, and the rhythmic noises of both shears and clippers reminded me of my father and his shop. My barber had often spoken about his beginnings, and he had often made a point of explaining his life philosophy. "If it isn't fun, don't do it," he would say. He told me about what a wonderful marriage he had, of his pride in his four sons, and of all of the progress that his family had made during his second marriage. Read the full story

	The Winter's Beauty First Place, teens' poetry Loris Volkle She enters your life once a year, and many are glad when she appears Because she bring great gifts that shine and glow, among these gifts is the silky snow A delicate white sheet spread over the land, by the winter's caring hand As the bright sun shines over this layer, a glint of light sails through the air. Read the full story

	The Perfect Tree First Place, children's essays Merit Willey One year, a week before Christmas, two trucks overturned on their way from Colorado to Santa Fe. They had been carrying hundreds of Christmas trees — all of which were lost. What that meant was that there would be a Christmas tree shortage in Santa Fe that year. My father was coming home from a business trip on the 21st of December, and we were waiting for him so we could all buy a Christmas tree together like we did every year. The minute Dad arrived on our small farm in the desert, we helped him unpack his bags, and then he, my mother, my brother and I piled into our white Toyota Landcruiser and headed toward downtown Santa Fe. When we got into town we drove eagerly to the place we normally bought our Christmas tree, but when we got to the lot, all we found was a sickly group of trees that amounted to little more than a bunch of bent sticks with large cavities in their few withered branches. Read the full story

	The Blue Banana Bandit First Place, adults's stories Michael J. Chavez There was a crowd for breakfast at the Pantry. Today was Christmas Eve. I was having my regular, huevos with bacon, beans, and a side of green chile. I looked up and saw a friend, Waldo, and his wife, Corrine, walk in. They walked over, and Waldo and I did our chicano handshake. "Hey man, how's it going?" I asked. "It's all good, bro. So, you having the Super Bowl party at your house this year since you're getting a new flat screen TV?" he asked. "What flat screen TV?" Read the full story

	Home by Another Route First Place, adults' poetry Mary Ann Wamhoff We were just doing our job: stargazing. In those days and in our neighborhoods that was a respectable business. Read the full story

	Why I Cry Second Place, teens' essays Casey Casias My mother is an avid crier. You name it, she'll cry over it. Oprah, the Dog Whisperer, a good book, a sunset, a sincere paper written by one of her students. This used to perplex me. I'd see her tearing up and chide her, roll my eyes, and smile indulgently at her emotional vulnerability. I just didn't understand it; why did she cry when a smile would do or even a casual nod? It was a great enigma to me throughout most of my childhood. Now, I know a young boy. He's in sixth grade, and he is truly remarkable. He's an incredible flutist, deeply thoughtful, and almost frighteningly smart. As Christmas gifts, he receives strategy games and fine literature, and he masters them both with equal finesse. Read the full story

	The Night Before Christmas Eve Second Place, children's stories Reina Nelson OneWill and his sister Jane lived in the woods in a place called Elventeen. It got its name from the elves, fairies, and nymphs that people "claimed" to see. Will didn't think much of these sightings until the day before Christmas Eve. The two were going outside to play in the new fallen snow. They were going sledding to a place called the Fairy Circle. Once there, Jane said, "I want to see if I can identify those tracks. You go and sled." A while later, Jane shouted, "Will, can you come here and help me with something? I want to identify this track. I've never seen it before." Will replied, "Neither have I. Come on, let's follow it." The tracks led them on a twisty and turny trail. They finally stopped at the mouth of a cave. Read the full story

	The Miraculous Change Second Place, children's essays Elliot Hield I wake up on a morning close to the holiday break. I groggily rub my tired eyes until I can see more clearly. I lift the shade and look out the window. It is snowing hard! I grab my glasses and whip them on. The needles on the trees are dressed like differently shaped fluffy hats of frozen water, and the ground looks like a vast bowl of ice cream with brown and green sprinkles that are rocks and trees. I love this time of year, because the most normal day can be transformed, and everyone is happy to accept the change. Most people are so joyful around this time, and already I can see our neighbor out on his lawn taking in the majestic sight. "Waaahoooo!" I yell, and burst out of the door of my room, smelling the delicious aroma of pancakes. Read the full story

	Snow-Ku Second Place, adults' poetry Patricia Lee Sharpe Clouds having a pillow fight. Feathers. Feathers. Read the full story

	Rat's Tail Second Place, teens' stories Andres-Arzate As Puck, a little mouse who lives in a Bananabees restaurant, finished tucking in his six little mice, he realized the holidays were coming, and he had nothing to give his children. He had been storing things in an old, empty tuna can, but figured they didn't express how much he loved his mice. As Puck realized he was running out of time, he desperately looked up and down the restaurant for things that people dropped on the floor. He found a couple things, such as a fork, a couple of marbles, a cellphone, and some change — but he knew they weren't good presents. What Puck had in mind was finding some cheese. He knew his little mice loved it, and that a big cheese feast would be a great gift for the whole family. Every day Puck ran around the restaurant, going up and down walls, under tables and chairs, and sliding through cracks here and there. He found some things, but not enough for what he wanted for his family. Puck was running all over like crazy when all of a sudden, he saw a waiter carrying a big block of Parmesan cheese. Puck ran to see where they were going to store it. Suddenly, Puck stopped. They were taking the big cheese into the kitchen. Read the full story

	Christmas in the Oil Patch Second Place (tie), adults' essays J. Paul Hale I had spent the entire first six years of my life living beside my grandparents in one of the numerous small camps that were spread throughout the oil fields of the Southwest during the 1940s and 50s. There might be two or three families living in each camp. The big oil-processing plant on the north mesa was like a small village with eight families in one place, but ours was the only one where any kid lived so close to his grandparents. My grandfather was a giant man in my eyes, with a large barrel chest and a little larger belly that hung slightly over his khaki work pants. He had worked in the oil fields his whole life, and by the time I was born my grandfather was a foreman on a small lease in far West Texas. My father was one of his hands, so we lived in the house next door. To me, this was just how things were supposed to be. On December 23 of every year, our small community held its Christmas party. Oil-field workers and their families would travel from all the camps for miles around to attend the annual event that was always held at the "Community Center" — which was really nothing more than a small, one-room, unpainted stucco building. The inside was empty except for a long, high plywood counter at one side that served as a buffet table for potluck dinners, as a ballot table during elections, and as a dry bar for the workers who would gather with their wives and girlfriends to dance to 45 rpm records on Saturday nights. Read the full story

	Smiles & Divinity Second Place (tie), adults' essays Camille Moser I guess I celebrate the holidays because my mom did, and she celebrated because she was a Christian. I celebrate because I am fascinated with the celebration itself. I celebrate because we humans have done this very thing every year during this time of year for thousands of years. That's pretty compelling. But still, I'm not a Christian. I haven't labeled myself a Christian for more than 15 years. I move toward Buddhism these days. I am merely leftovers from a Methodist Christian home of the '70s. Do I really have the right to hold a winter celebration? I feel the need to validate my celebration. But it's no matter if I do or don't, for this stormy holiday comes like a train every year with or without rhyme, reason, or logic. I can only imagine a bitter and lonely time for myself if I didn't at least try to celebrate. So, guilt in hand, I go forth. I celebrate. I can't help it. Read the full story

	Santa: Too Big to Fail Second Place, adults' stories Eric Church Santi awoke on the morning of a day in early December 2009 with a mixed delight in his status as retired philanthropist-bachelor-slash-sports-talk radio host. Mrs. Claus wanted to reconcile. Yet life in the San Luis Valley continued to suit him. He had no desire to return to the North Pole. Santi's early 1960's model F-150 pickup sat parked out adjacent to the trailer. It still purred like a kitten, thanks to the many hours he spent under the hood on warm autumn afternoons. He'd had a few flames painted on the wheel wells and on the truck's doors at the Alamosa auto detailer. The metallic gold finish glinted. Heads turned and hands waved when he drove his truck the 25 mph speed limit down the three-block Antonito strip. Santi had dropped the suspension another few inches in the past year. The truck rode quite low now, so that he had to drive really quite slowly on the muddy, rutted drive up to the trailer, so as not to drag the muffler. Dropping the suspension was a commitment he'd made, an embrace of his new life in the hardscrabble valley. Like the accommodations any man makes to late middle age, a natural slowing down and a dropping of the center of gravity. With the acceptance of late middle age came a happy, quiet grace: an absence of shame in the bifocals that perched on the end of his nose, a broadening of the skill set so as to include the ability to work on a pickup and to repair broken furniture and the aging plumbing of an old mobile home, and a certain earned privilege to dispense wisdom to his homies in the mostly empty Antonito bar. Read the full story

	Winter Solstice 2008 Third Place, adults' poetry Edith Powers The world is upside down, shaken to its core. No one can predict what was predictable before! Read the full story

	The Wacky Family's Christmas Party Third Place (tie), children's stories Shaun Harrison The Burgereapers are a family that is crazy, because last year they hid in a barn and did nothing on Christmas. My name is I Spy Harris, and this year I am going to see what they are doing. I am going to be disguised as a berry bush in front of the arroyo where they are having their party. I am going to use a recorder, binoculars, and a microphone — a recorder to record, binoculars to see closer, and a microphone for listening. During my spy time, I saw some somewhat ordinary things. One was their feast. They had roasted squid with gravy, eggs cooked in their shells, platypus eggs, octopus, robin feathers, dog poop and rotten deer. They ate out of cups and drank out of bowls. They used plates as napkins and napkins for plates. They ate outside in the snow. Their games were different but pretty much the same. One game was an annual booger fight. There were six teams. They were Yellow, Green, Blue, Red, Orange, and Purple. You had to have a spoon, pull a booger out of your nose, and fling it. The Blue team won with a booger gun blast. They won an extra napkin of rice macaroni with a side of green fox tail. But then everybody started crying, so the Blue team shared with everybody. Read the full story

	The Little Bear's Christmas Gone Bad Third Place (tie), children's stories Ryan Valdez One winter day, a little bear was walking home from picking berries in the middle of the forest, but the trail that led to his cave was completely gone. Baby Bear was confused, so he asked the only bird in the forest if he could help him find his way home. The bird said, "Are you talking to me, little bear?" "Yes," said Baby Bear. "Can you help me to find my way home? The trail to my house is covered in snowflakes." "Well, I don't know. I have to start flying south for the winter," said Mr. Bird. Read the full story

	Winter's Dawn Third Place, children's essays Lucas Weiss I rushed down the stairs, my heart racing with glee after being awakened by my internal clock, to find the presents that I receive each year under the sweet-smelling tree dappled in golden light. My sister Caitlin had come to visit for the holidays. I didn't get to see her much after she went to college, so this was special. My whole family would get to be with me, but most of all I could unwrap presents as far as I could see. I readied myself to pounce onto a present, fearing it would somehow vanish in the excitement. I looked out the window and saw the gentle snowfall. The sun was just rising, giving it a rosy color. It looked irresistible, so I stood up, wrapped myself in a blanket, walked out the door and sat on my porch. As the sun rose, the silhouetted frozen tears swayed in the wind, as if dancing just for me. I held my hand out to let them fall on me, and just a split second before they melted, I saw their beautiful, intricate designs. I almost felt sad, seeing those glittering works of art melt — yet I felt joyful because I knew they would be born again. After a few minutes, the sun began to really rise. The sky was lit a fiery crimson, and the snowflakes looked like scarlet glitter falling from the seemingly never-ending blanket above me. I inhaled deeply, the frigid air stinging my nose and filling it with a fresh clean smell. Read the full story

	Treasured Times Third Place, children's essays Dakota Haraden The year 2007 was a very sad and difficult year for my family and me. My uncle Randy passed away in June. He was only 46 years old. Then, in September, my grandfather Gus died. Soon after, my grandmother Grey passed away in November. Losing all of these important people has been very hard, especially since we lost our dad in 2002. Because of this, my mom has become both my mom and my dad. She is always there when we need her, and she is very, very special! My mom and her family all stepped up when our dad died, and now that they are not here, our lives have changed a lot. We were very close and did everything together. They were all so important to us. Because of this, nothing is the same. Everything is so different, and this includes the holidays. To keep their memories alive, traditions are very important, old and new. The traditions will always be a part of our holidays, but they will never be quite the same. For example, when we bake, like we do every year, it is going to be very hard. We always baked with our grandma Grey. She was the best baker and cook I ever knew. (Sorry, mom!) We baked all kinds of things: fudge, Hershey Kiss cookies, nuts-n-bolts, tarantulas, and lots more. For the tarantulas, we would break up pretzels, cover them with melted milk or white chocolate, and put them in the refrigerator until the chocolate was hard. They are yummy! Read the full story

	The Christmas Tree Third Place, teens' essays Sara Hartse The sky is an opaque mass of whitish, gray clouds — a color foreshadowing snow, but somehow reminiscent of goose feathers and fleece. The sky seems to cover the world like a quilt, sealing itself off at the top of the mountains. Every year in December my family and I pick a Christmas tree. This in itself is a sacred act. The tree must be perfect in height, shape, and in Christmas-ornament-hanging capacity. It must be at least as good as last year's tree, though it never seems to be. Once our tree is home, in a flurry of tangy pine and scratchy branches, we raise it in our living room. This means we have to go through the tedious process of getting it to stand up straight. Once this trying but necessary procedure is completed comes the best part of all — hanging the ornaments. They have been hibernating in the garage in ancient cardboard boxes. Now they come out into the light, just in time for the holiday season. Read the full story

	Quarantined for Christmas Third Place, adults' stories Linda Gonzales The trees stood naked against a quiet sunset. Streaks of brilliant orange, pink, and violet layered peacefully on the horizon. Helen watched from the back porch as the sun disappeared from the cold December sky. It was 5 o'clock, and night had set in. Yet it was so hot inside the house. The furnace was stoked up in high gear. Vaporizers spewed out streams of steam. Soup boiling on the stove wafted the sweet smell of chicken intermingled with the pungent odor of camphor. She had to escape for a few minutes — take some deep breaths and say a little prayer to God. It was Christmas week, 1939, and the house had been quarantined for chicken pox. Her husband, Joe, wouldn't be home on Christmas. He had to stay away, or he couldn't go to work. She envied the fact that he had escaped the whole ordeal while she endured all the sickness with her children alone. He stayed at his sister's house and was putting in lots of overtime, working in place of other men who wanted to be with their families for the holidays. There was no other choice. With 10 children and little income, this is how it had to be. Sylvan was the oldest, just turned 17; then Bobby, 15; Jimmy, 13; Billy, 12; and Kenny, 9. Barbara was 7; Vernon, 5; Rita, 3; and the twins — Joey and Jerry — were 18 months old. Helen had her hands full every day of the year, but this year was especially hard. Read the full story

	Hanukkah Behind Bars Third Place, adults' essays Judith Fein Christmas lights fringed the adobe walls in downtown Santa Fe, and I was feeling gloomy. In a few days I'd be leaving the country for a work assignment, and I wouldn't be able to celebrate the holidays with the kids behind bars. For several years, I had volunteered to teach them creative writing, and I'd become very attached to them. In spite of their crimes, I loved them because they were just kids. Their life stories were punctuated with abuse, abandonment, and pain, and I knew their young hearts would ache with loneliness during the holiday season. Impulsively, I called the head of the jail. He said I could have a special holiday session with the kids the following night. Almost all of the Hispanic and Native American kids were Christians, and I wondered if any of them knew what Hanukkah was. I spent the next day buying plastic dreydls (tops) and gold-wrapped chocolate coins called Hanukkah gelt, and then I cut up more than 600 paper chits. In case my Hanukkah idea was a dud, I bought and signed Christmas cards for the kids. Read the full story

	An Empty Box Third Place, teens' stories Tashi Swierkosz In a small, suburban area near Moscow, Russia, a little girl gazed out of her bedroom window. She watched the snow roll over the hilltops and caress the air as it fell from the cotton-ball-shaped clouds drifting in the sky. Apart from the little white flakes blowing in the wind, the sky was gray. Second by second, the sky began to darken. The sun was soon to go to rest, and the moon would rise to watch over the Earth on this Christmas Eve. She lifted her petite, delicate hands off the windowsill and shuffled her way across the maze of clothes that she was forced to call her room. She climbed onto the mattress that lay on her floor and grabbed an empty shoe box. It had been keeping the door from swinging open. The gusts of wind that traveled up and down the hallway swung the door open. The little girl pressed her body against the door as she shoved yet another box, filled with old family photo albums, in front of the worn-down door. Read the full story

	The Flying Christmas Dogs Honorable Mention, children's stories Megan Varnum On the first day of winter, four Bernese Mountain Dogs were born. Their names were Missy, Bubble, Noel and Peppermint. The dogs lived in the North Pole and had a wonderful family. They were fed well, were very happy, and were very curious about the world. They asked questions about everything! At last, Christmas Eve came. The dogs were really excited about Christmas Day. Soon after the dogs calmed down, there was a loud knock on the door. The family opened the door, and peered into the light to see who it was. Standing right in front of them was Santa Claus himself. He asked the family, "Can your dogs fly my sleigh tonight? My reindeer cannot fly my sleigh because they are sick with reindeeritis." The family stood silent in awe for a while. Soon after, the family agreed, so Santa took Missy, Bubble, Noel and Peppermint on the greatest adventure ever. He took the dogs to his workshop and took out a giant sack. He told the dogs, "The magic dust in this sack will make you fly. Now, which one of you wants to go first?" Read the full story

	The Gift Honorable Mention, teens' essays Alysha B. Salazar Every Christmas, presents are given and received by many. To some this is such a crucial part of the Christmas season. To others it is seen as a time for family and quality time with the ones that are dearest to them. This is the way that my family has always perceived this joyous holiday. We see it as the time of year that brings all of our family back home to us from all over the world. The memories that are made during these few hours are the ones that I have always cherished the most. They are the memories that have added onto one another each and every Christmas, as far back as I can recall. I just could not imagine my holiday season playing out any other way. The moments that are shared between me and my family are the ones that I will forever hold close to me. Our family gathering begins Christmas Eve at the children's mass at our church. Here we are all so thankful for the many blessings that we have all been given throughout the year. We are also thankful for the family that has arrived safely and for the ones that are still with us despite the various challenges that they have had to overcome this past year. It is a truly joyous time to reflect on the importance of what Christmas really is all about. It reminds us of all the presents that we have already received the kind of gifts that don't require any sort of wrapping or unwrapping. These are the ones that we are most thankful for this Christmas season. The few hours at church are nothing compared to the hours ahead, but it is the perfect start to a very eventful night. Read the full story

	Secret Santa Honorable Mention, adults' stories Cathy Weber Colvin Marcella leaned over her son's bed to kiss him goodnight. He wrapped his small hands around her neck and pulled her toward him. "Mama, guess what?" Ricco's warm breath tickled her ear, a sharp contrast to the cold December air that filled the room. "What, mijto?" "I figured out who Santa really is," he whispered. Read the full story

	What Turkey? Honorable Mention, adults' stories Pamela Christie It was December 24th and the baby was 10 days past due. Kyra's whole family had come for the holidays, figuring there'd be a baby already. There wasn't, but Kyra wanted her family to have fun on Christmas Eve anyway, to stroll through Santa Fe when it becomes a beautiful village. So she and her husband Jacob led us through the snowy streets toward Canyon Road. We'd barely found the first luminarias, near the corner of Acequia Madre and Delgado, when Kyra let out a quiet cry. The grandmothers-in-waiting gave each other a knowing look. Kyra whimpered and Jacob held her close, but she soon unwound from his hug and continued along the candle-lit streets. Maryanne and I followed behind, doubting this Christmas outing would last very long. "Christmas!" We'd been making bets on the birth date, but no one ever suggested Christmas. We gathered around leaping fires and sang in unison with strangers, thinking about this new child coming into our lives at this time of celebration of the most miraculous birth of all. Meandering past the golden luminarias, Kyra leaned into Jacob every twenty minutes or so. Our men tugged on a little bottle tucked into a jacket pocket. Two nervous grandmothers pushed everyone in the direction of the cars. Read the full story

	Mischief By Mistletoe at the Cougar Claw Cafe Honorable Mention: adults' stories Douglas Bullis Ax, the Honorable State Representative from Hatch, entered the "Legislators Only" lounge in the Roundhouse. He observed a wastebasket next to his favorite chair. It was filled with paper. He looked more closely. "Grrr," he growled from his bulldog jowls, "that's the Christmas Reclamation Bill I proposed just yesterday!" Ax fumed back to the chamber. "Point of protocol, Honorable Mr. Speaker!" he sputtered as he fulminated through the doors. "The Honorable Speaker recognizes the Honorable Representative from Hatch." Read the full story

	Amazing Grace Honorable Mention, adults' essays A.J. Gilman Grace comes in the most unlikely places. It was January 2000, just after the turn of the millennium. I walked along the dry Santa Fe riverbed with my friend Susan and ever-faithful dog Emma. Together, we strolled enjoying the sun-filled January morning. A burst of gold flashed in my peripheral vision. Was that a dog? Indeed. A stray dog took flight from across the riverbed, a sight I'd seen many times before. I ran a block home to gather some food. Returning with a large serving of chow, the dog had vanished. For the many strays who have crossed my path over the years, I could give them just one meal. Before the last bite was swallowed, they were quickly on their pathless way. Still I wanted to believe that one meal helped that one creature through that one moment. So I continued my quiet crusade to feed the homeless four-legged spirits of the world, with a bag of dog food always in my trunk. We dumped the food upon a flat rock across the river and continued our walk. A small piece of my heart going out to the beautiful animal in distress that chilly winter day. Read the full story

	A Christmas Show Honorable Mention, teens' essays Elle Jansen I sat staring at my reflection in the clear glass mirror. It was illuminated by what seemed like millions of bright, luminescent lights. I turned my head to watch as the other girls filed in one-by-one with their trunks of make-up and duffel bags of clothes and costumes. "Oh my goodness, I am so excited!" I could hear my friend, Cali, in the hallway, her voice overwhelmed with excitement. I quickly pushed the metal chair I was sitting in out from under me and started for the door. There, standing in the hallway, was a group of my closed friend huddled in a group. I was so happy to see their faces. "Hey, you guys!" I said, walking closer to them. Each turned her head and smiled sweetly as I greeted them. Read the full story

	Snowflake Kisses on Her First Christmas Honorable Mention, children's stories Ame Kurotsuki Christania's feet crunched rhythmically on the snow as she walked along the sidewalk, dodging people as she went. A shy sun peeked from behind angry gray clouds, almost like a child behind its mother's legs. Every now and then, it would dip back behind its dark bodyguards, stripping the world of light. It was very cold, wind biting at her bare hands and cheeks. She nuzzled her nose further under her scarf, attempting to bring it back from feeling like a glacier. The smell of spiced cider and hot chocolate wafted through the air, accompanied by the sugary sweet scent of cookies. People laughed and bustled about, young ones hanging onto their parents, sweethearts walking hand-in-hand. Salesmen yelled out about their wares, their faces illuminated by the lights from the windows of high-end shops. "Sale!" signs hung in just about every window, incorporated into the already lavish displays. Quite truthfully, Christania understood none of this. The lights, the people, the decorations, the festive cheer. It made no sense to her. As far as the girl knew, it was December 24th, a Thursday. Nothing was out of the ordinary, except that it had snowed. She mumbled a few curses as her foot sunk deeper into a pile of snow, soaking her pant leg. Tugging herself free, she continued on her walk, not too sure where she was going. Lights glanced off the white snow, gleaming against her equally pale skin, making it shine. Her dark eyes stared at the sky, though her body managed to stay free of the gaggle of people. Quiet piano music slipped cordially out of an open door, sweeping calmly through the streets, whispering in her ears. Read the full story

	Mr. Claus Honorable Mention, teens' essays Jesse B. Koehler I was lying awake in bed. The sound of the silence and my Dad's breathing just kept on reminding me, "You're not falling asleep, you're not falling asleep." Usually, I wouldn't be traumatized because I was the last one up, and I couldn't get to sleep. It's just that this night was a special night; it was Christmas Eve. No kid wanted to be tired on the morning of Christmas, and I was nervous that I was well on my way to being an unfortunate kid. I also didn't want to ruin the effect of the night — going to sleep and not knowing what's going to happen, if Santa's going to come or not. I was scared I'd be awake when he came. Basically, this was the worst night to be awake. And because I was feeling stressed about not falling asleep, it was becoming even harder. Then, I heard it. It seemed as loud as a cannon fire in the silence. There was movement coming from the living room, where we keep our tree. Immediately, my mind started freaking out and my body went dead still. The sounds went on for about 10, maybe 20 minutes. The silence that followed was eerie. My mind started making a lot of noise, so there wasn't much room for silence. I thought, "What was that? Was it Santa? Was it my mom putting presents underneath the tree? Did I just find out that Santa isn't real?" Read the full story

	Abnormal Christmas Honorable Mention, children's essays Debbie Jarzemba I always go to Ohio for Christmas to visit my family. One year, it was supposed to be a happy Christmas, but it wasn't. We go to visit my dad's sister. We only see our family once a year. My aunt Kathy had been diagnosed with cancer when she was young. They had cured her cancer. Then, when she got older, her cancer came back. She died on the 18th of December, just before Christmas. We stayed until after Christmas. It just wasn't the same without my aunt Kathy. She had been like a mother to my dad. When we were at her funeral, my cousin Rosanna cried the whole time for her mom. Rosanna was only 16 at the time. All my cousin's friends were there to support her. Read the full story

	Home for the Holidays Honorable Mention, teens' stories Chance C. R. Willey "I'm sorry, kitty, but with the country being what it is today, we can't afford to keep you," said the woman with tears starting to fill her eyes as she looked down at the fluffy white cat she had set at her feet on the snowy sidewalk. The cat looked up at the woman's pale, thin face from where he sat, his eyes wide and sad, not understanding what she was saying to him. Why was she — the woman who had loved and cared for him for months before — setting him outside in the cold when she had once offered him warmth in her bed with her? Looking down at the little cat and saying good-bye was the hardest thing she had had to do in years. Looking at those wide, blue eyes filled her heart with stone, making it fall deep into her stomach. "I will miss you kitten. But don't worry. You're tough and there are a lot of apartment buildings around here so, there will be plenty of places for you to find food," she said. Read the full story

First Place, children's stories

First Place, teens' stories

First Place, teens' essays

First Place, adults' essays

First Place, teens' poetry

First Place, children's essays

First Place, adults's stories

First Place, adults' poetry

Second Place, teens' essays

Second Place, children's stories

Second Place, children's essays

Second Place, adults' poetry

Second Place, teens' stories

Second Place (tie), adults' essays

Second Place (tie), adults' essays

Second Place, adults' stories

Third Place, adults' poetry

Third Place (tie), children's stories

Third Place (tie), children's stories

Third Place, children's essays

Third Place, children's essays

Third Place, teens' essays

Third Place, adults' stories

Third Place, adults' essays

Third Place, teens' stories

Honorable Mention, children's stories

Honorable Mention, teens' essays

Honorable Mention, adults' stories

Honorable Mention, adults' stories

Honorable Mention: adults' stories

Honorable Mention, adults' essays

Honorable Mention, teens' essays

Honorable Mention, children's stories

Honorable Mention, teens' essays

Honorable Mention, children's essays

Honorable Mention, teens' stories

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