Creative Writing & Poems

Falling into Fall
By: Yuvna Musuku

     Laughing and shouting, the children stared in awe at the sight of the once viridescent leaves turned orange leaves plummeting towards the ground. The breezy yet light mood consumed the houses. It was that time of year again and while some sat at home enjoying their pumpkin spice lattes and warm furry coats, James sat doing the complete opposite. You see, James was stuck in quite a turmoil here.  Fall meant school. James didn’t like school. 
Alas, the only thing he could think about was the image of the smooth waves knocking the sand toward James’ ticklish feet. It would all have to come to an end if school started. Even the thought of school made a feeling of dismay pervade through him.  If only there was a way to bring summer back. The leaves green, the weather warm, and the feeling joyful- wait that’s it!  
James quickly sketched out a plan. The only way to bring summer back was to recreate it. On the paper, he drew a small tree which looked too close to just a bunch of scribbles. After finally finishing his masterpiece, he took out his favorite green crayon and drew over the mess that devoured his paper. It was finished. His plan. His idea. His solution. His genius. 
Grabbing his jacket and a can of some sort, James headed outside meticulously, making sure that no one had seen him. He gathered the paint together and covered the leaves until there was no trace of orange or yellow. 
James strolled back into the house and watched as the children’s gaze turned to his green-stained shirt and deceiving smile. Mumbling for them stay quiet, he held up a finger to his mouth and crept back into his room returning to his green crayon. No one will ever realize that it’s fall, which means no school for me!

Thanks(for)giving Me Food! 
By: Rishika Raghavan

     It was a cold November day, yet the toasty, warm fire managed to make it comfortable in my house. It was Thanksgiving, one of my most favorite holidays because the festivities mainly included piping-hot, delicious food. My cousins’ visit from Sparks Glencoe, Maryland only made it better. 
My mom had been cooking all day long, creating a giant feast that was a delight to my eyes when I saw it. When I saw all the food she had made, I gasped and slowly took in the sight, awed. I saw the cheesy, gooey macaroni and cheese, baked so that the top layer was crispy and the cheese was slightly browned. I glanced at the creamy, herb-filled mashed potatoes, my mouth already watering just by looking at them. I saw the corn, some grilled and some merely boiled until it was soft to the touch. I saw the potatoes, which my mom had made into a special dish called gratin. The various aromas cultivated and created a party in my nose. Finally, I heard my mom open the oven with a bang and bring out the prized meal--the main course. It was the turkey! Roasted perfectly, tender, and browned, it was truly a sight for sore eyes. I couldn’t hold back my hunger and was, obviously, the first one to dig in. Everyone admonished me slightly for eating before everyone else, but I couldn’t help it. 
     Finally, dessert came. My most favorite meal of the day. It was a sweet, burning-hot pecan pie. The perfectly caramelized pecans glimmered in the light shining from the light bulb, and I could see the warm steam surrounding the pie. As we cut it, the juices oozed out, making my mouth water hungrily. We ate and enjoyed the wonderful food while it lasted. Before I knew it, it was over. I was upset, but it only made me look forward to the next year’s celebration even more.

Created by: Mridula Kannan

Food Frenzy
By: Riya Prakash

     The ominous ticking of the clock tower hung over them as they awaited the minute hand’s arrival on the 12. As the seconds ticked past, they clutched their baskets tighter and reached a pin drop silence. When the moment finally came, all serenity was forgotten and chaos awakened. A mad rush of people pushed themselves into the door of the building adorned with the neon sign reading “Shoprite.” As the shoppers fought to enter the supermarket, they yelled and shoved each other aside, ignoring their sense of morality. People raced to every corner of the store, sweeping whole shelves of items into their carts, not sparing a single can of tuna or box of microwave dinner for anyone else. 
In the meat section, two women played tug of war with a turkey. In nonperishable aisle, a group of college students looted the cart of an oblivious man, not leaving behind a single pack of Ramen. In the bakery, people clawed at the cakes as if they were savages, hoarding boxes in their laps and hissing at those who dared come near them. During that period of inhumanity, mayhem grew throughout the store. 
At the beginning of that night, the shelves were packed full of every item on their inventory. After the whirlwind of ravenous shoppers swept through the store, every shelf was desolate within 30 minutes. With nothing left to take off the shelves, they resorted to stealing from each other, pulling items out of carts and stealing out of hands. Those who were sensible enough escaped before the violence heightened. Soon enough, the shoppers found they could hold nothing more, and with their baskets and arms full of every item they could obtain, they once again hustled each other to exit the store.
After they had all left, the store was left looking nothing short of wasteland, all of which was caused by a mob of vicious shoppers. That night, they left with more than just a trunk full of free food- they left with hatred and a new sense of greed, for their longing for food overpowered their sense of humanity. 

             The Seasoning
             By: Evan Chang

     A chilly November breeze rippled through the backyard. Little bits of leaves fluttered around the grass. And here I was, stirring a boring, brown drab pot of soup. I chopped up some vegetables and added them into the muddy broth.
     I opened the cabinet with a loud thud, searching for an ingredient to add. My mother had a handful of weird ones in there. Ones that no one knew, and no one used either. And then I saw it. It had a faint, shiny glitter. Strange white speckles and a tinge of purple. The seasoning was sealed tightly in an unfamiliar jar smothered with dust. It looked like it came from the stone age. 
     Then the inevitable came to my head. An irresistible urge of curiosity. I felt as if I was a scientist, testing the properties of an unidentified substance. I had to use the seasoning. I just had to.
     A good cook would’ve tasted before adding an ingredient. But I chose otherwise. This would be a revolution in cooking! I envisioned new, exotic tastes and smells in the soup. My stomach started to grumble, and my mouth started to water. I gave in. I added the seasoning. Big chunks of it. At least half the container. I was jumping up and down. Then, things started to go downhill. 
     I couldn’t believe my eyes as I looked into the stew. It was now churning about with unforeseen energy. Surreal fumes steadily rose from the bottom. The substance started to dissolve into the soup, creating vibrant hues of orange and blue. It was colorful, but it wasn’t very appetizing. What would happen to the mixture next?
     Then, the soup started to expand before my eyes, perhaps the result of an unknown chemical reaction, ever closer to the top. No, I said to myself. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. It was an illusion, only within my head. But the sight was too convincing to disbelieve.
     Farther and farther it went, and a sense of dread came over me. I tried my best to contain the extra soup, but it was too late. I gave a push of retaliation, but it rose over the top. A booming splash was all I could remember.
     “Evan!” I heard from the back. It was my mother’s voice. “Are you seeing things? Why did you spill the soup?”

Winter Wonderland?
By: Sophia Navarro-Montes

The beauty of winter
The moon wakes early
And goes to bed late
And snow and cold and ice
But is it?
A season keeping warmth
In hiding
A season keeping sun
In hiding
A season keeping life
In hiding.
As bleak as it is beautiful
Like a sweet poison.
Yet uncontrollable
Yet inconsolable
Two sides of a coin
A blessing and a curse
As all flock
from the beast of cold.
The truth is hidden
By a big man in red
And the word “Holiday.”
Children press their noses
Against cold glass
To see beautiful cursed stars
Descend from the sky
In the storm of winter.
The truth is hidden
Just like the warmth
A Winter Wonderland
But is it?

Winter Wonderland?
By: Alice Xu
The wind creates an imitation of wolves and their loud howl,
Freezing everyone to the point of wearing a jacket indoors.
I think to myself, Why is mother nature being so foul,
Spreading the coldness from the roof to the floors?

Giving Is as Good as Taking
By: Siddharth Avhad
Giving is as good as taking, 
And both take a little time.
Everyone’s a star in the making,
Your uniqueness is sublime.

Giving is as good as taking,
And it feels that way too.
For a smile when a person is aching,
Can eliminate their blues.
Giving is as good as taking,
So give thanks to your life, indeed.
That you've made it, you're still waking,
And from tyranny you have been freed.
Giving is as good as taking,
What do you really look forward to?
Friends, family, or mom's great baking?
How ‘bout seeing dreams come true?
Giving is as good as taking, 
One man’s trash is another’s treasure.
You might see what they’re forsaking,
And to you, it would’ve given pleasure.
Giving is as good as taking,
And I have done things as well.
Some horrible and life-breaking,
But also some great on which we still dwell.
Giving is as good as taking, 
And if you think you don’t know,
What is good and what’s been faking,
Think again, to something you greatly owe.

Giving is as good as taking, 
So on this Thanksgiving Eve,
Don't make a toast if you're quaking, 
Think of the greatest gift, the life that you've received.

What is winter here?
By: Annika Joseph

Here in this winter wonderland we have….
The strong summer sun resigning
From being out all summer shining
Children laughing and playing, building their frozen friends
What are they? Well, it depends!
Snow angels, and their delightful snowmen with their neon carrot nose
Snowballs thrown in a frenzy before the strong flurry of snow slows
Friends all out together, on their new Christmas sleds, 
A competitive spirit revealed in their energetic treads.
Why, school is out!
Let’s all give a shout! 
For this winter wonderland is not so far away… 

Winter Wonderland
By: Mridula Kannan

Winter is as white and as quiet as it can be.
The branches are bare on the maple tree.
Winter brings snow falling all around.
Animals are sleeping underground.
Time to go skiing, my favorite winter sport 
Once inside you can make a fort
You better put on warm clothes to wear
Winter brings snow storms everywhere
Enjoy exciting snowball fights
Everyday from morning to night
Take off your boots and set them aside
Drink hot cocoa when you get inside
The air is filled with cheer.
Winter is here!

1 -- A haiku story --
Writer: Anish Pallati
because why not (ha)

2 Blazing eventide
A calm and warming sun glows
In the midst of fall
3 Orange leaves on trees
Boxes resting on the porch
Full of memories
4 Trucks near the driveway
Tons of furniture outside
Must be organized
5 Dreaded school shopping
Backpacks, binders, erasers
Oh the horridness
6 Wake up earlier
I don't know anybody
New school and new house
7 Teachers give us tours
Have to memorize a lot
Lockers and schedules
8 Some new friends today
Second day boring as well
Learning peoples' names
9 Getting more homework
Mostly forms and signing sheets
Not too difficult
10 First test of the year
Have to study more for them
I overstudied
11 Halloween’s coming
Fresh out of ideas
Not sure what to be
12 Sunsets earlier
First snow forecast this school year
Hello winter break
13 Goodbye to autumn
All the orange leaves under snow
It's almost New Years
14 I like these haikus
Can't think of anything else
-- A haiku story --
15 By the way, I did
Events in autumn (faster)
To show the “falling”
16 Note: The person here
is clearly not me at all
I'm not new this year
17 I just spoke haiku
This stuff is infectious
Oof still speaking it

Falling Into Fall
By: Rishika Raghavan

Leaves change colors
and drop to the ground;
People drink hot apple cider
And carve pumpkins that are round.
Halloween is so close!
People visit haunted houses 
And wear scary clothes.
Festive energy flows.

Fall is the time
To do whatever you please.
But when it’s wintertime,
Fun disappears in the breeze.

Waluigi’s Backstory: Dark Beginnings
By Arca Baran

     Forced into the shadows by his more popular companions, he is a resident villain of the Mushroom Kingdom. He wears purple, loves playing tricks on people, and looks semi-similar to Luigi. Except he's not Luigi. Just like how Wario is the evil version of Mario, Waluigi is the evil version of Luigi. 
     So if he's a character from such a popular video game franchise, how come barely anyone (outside of meme aficionados) knows about him? You see, Nintendo, the very company that created the series, hates Waluigi. That part is pretty obvious. He is the only Mario protagonist not to have his own game, barely appears in main-line titles outside of spin-off titles, and, most upsettingly of all, was rejected as a character for the new Smash Bros game, Super Smash Bros. Ultimate. 
     So, yeah, now you know the truth. You know who Waluigi is... Or do you????
     Nintendo hasn't exactly given us much information about this purple doppelganger. Over the course of 20 years, all that we have gotten to know about him from the games were three basic things:
1. He wears purple.
2. He plays tennis. 
3. He goes "WAHHH!"
     Talk about "character development," am I right? Sarcasm aside, I decided, out of pure curiosity about Waluigi, to take matters into my own hands. How? I was going to write a backstory for Waluigi. 
     That's right, I was going to lift the veil from his crooked nose. I was going to take off his purple hat. People will now know who he truly is!
     But to find out the truth about Waluigi, you will have to go to the beginning. In fact, the very beginning. How would I know about it? Because Waluigi told me so. That's right, the purple man himself told me so. In case you didn't know, Waluigi and I have built a close relationship over the last month or so. He saw my blog post complaining about his lack of inclusion in the new Smash Bros game. He reached out to me thanking me for my kind thoughts, and his message was as follows: 
     “Thank you very much for your kind thoughts. I barely ever get that now-WAH-days. Seeing as you seem to be a fan, I can let you in on a few secrets. We'll make a deal: You let me write posts on your blog, and I'll let you in on the truth, okay? You get more views, you and others will find out my backstory, and I'll get positive publicity. It's a win-win scenario! Maybe Sakurai will see it and put me into Smash Bros... But WAH-tever. That's just wishful thinking.” 
     Now, I'm handing the tale over to Waluigi himself, as we start chapter one of our wicked tale: his childhood. 
     I don't remember my parents. In fact, my first memories were sitting in the orphanage. I was quite miserable there; the kids would make fun of me for my long nose and strange demeanor. It was impossible to stand their constant teasing and bullying for a single day. No matter what, the day would end in me whining in my pillow ("WAHHH! WAHHH!") over an unthoughtful insult from another child.
     I dreamed of leaving the dreadful place. Of jumping through the window, sprouting wings, and soaring far away, where no one could ever bother me again. I tried escaping there a few times, but the headmistress, Miss Koopa, always ended up catching me and giving me a scolding. On my last attempt to escape, she finally decided to ask me why I kept doing it.
     "Why do you always try to run away, Luigi?" Miss Koopa asked. 
      I had no actual name; my parents had deserted me soon after birth, but most people ended up calling me Luigi due to a tendency I had to uncontrollably spit loogies at people. 
     "Reggie an-and Doug keep c-calling me m-mean names and, made f-fun of my n-nose, and... WAHHH!!!" Stuttering, I burst into tears, whining with spit bursting out of the edges of my mouth. 
     "Well, how about you try sticking up for yourself, Loogie---I mean, Luigi," she quickly fixed her mistake, shamefacedly. 
     "Sticking up for myself," I muttered. I had never heard the phrase before. "Wahh--wha-wa-whats that?"
     "Oh, you know," she replied. "Show them that you aren't meat for them to chew on! Put a shield between their sword!"
     I nodded in understanding, and from that moment on, I was never the same again. You see, she had meant to give me good advice, but the way I interpreted it was much different than what she could have possibly imagined. I thought of it like this: If people give you a hard time, give them a hard time, too.
     So from then on, whenever Doug or Reggie would pick on me, they would probably wake up to find wet toilet paper under their pillow. Or a whoopie cushion under their seat. You know, good ol' trickery. Sigh... How I miss playing innocent pranks on people. Nowadays, it's all about the worse trickery. You know, throwing spiky shells at people and blowing up their go-karts! 
     At first, nobody had a clue who was pulling these pranks on the boys. Eventually, though, Miss Koopa started connecting the dots about what was happening. Who had a big grudge on Doug and Reggie? Who had a bad temper and would give into it easily? Who was the most cunning and deceiving child of all? Of course, it had to be me (and Miss Koopa must have regretted giving me that advice long ago)! 
     So she gave me a terrible scolding. "Why would you do that? That isn't nice! This is unacceptable!" But all her complaints sounded as if they were "blah, blah, blah" to my ears, and I just ignored her. So when she told me to sit in the time out corner (which happened to be right next to the exit door), I pretended to happily agree. And just my luck, the moment I walked over, another child was asking for some water.
     "All right, Link, I'm coming!" she yelled back, distracted and not looking at me anymore. Here was my chance! I could dash out of this miserable, wretched place! So I took the chance without much further thought, and I was met with a long dark alleyway in front of me.
     There were no cars here. It was all empty, lonely, and dark. The only sources of light were the few street lamps, flickering far above my short head. I instantly regretted my decision to run away. I was hungry and sad, and now no one could care for me! Not knowing what to do next, I collapsed onto the dirty concrete and sobbed. 
     My misery seemed to stretch on for eternity. For minutes, hours, or maybe even days, I was crying in the dark, lonely alleyway. Until, one fateful moment, I heard something other than my loud and distinct "WAHHH!" There were footsteps coming from somewhere behind me. 
(Image Above Created by Arca Baran)
     I turned around out of a mixture of shock, curiosity, and hope. Who could it possibly be who was walking up to me in the middle of a deserted alleyway? Then something happened that would change my destiny forever. 
     I heard deep, almost sympathetic laughter, and loud thuds of footsteps. I turned around to see a short, stout, possibly Italian man with a large bushy mustache. He, too, had a large and unusual nose. His eyes gave him an almost sinister look. My sobbing started to slow down. I just stared at him in confusion.
     "Hey, kid," he said, in a much more gentle tone than I was expecting. "It'll be all right. I'm the good guy, you see," he paused and chuckled once again, "so I can help you. What's your name?"
     Still sobbing slightly, I told him, "WAHHH.... WAHHH.. WAHHH... Luigi." 
     "Oh," he replied, grinning widely. "So you're a "Waluigi," huh? Want to come along with me? I can make your life a lot better, trust me."
     I was too miserable to even argue at that point, so I nodded yes.
     "All right then, little man," he said, hoisting me up on his wide, chubby shoulders. "Get some rest.       'Cause we have a long journey coming up if you ever want to get away from this wreck."


  1. I give all my praise to the Waluigi story. I find it quite accurate and Waluigi needs to be shown to this world! He. Deserves. Justice. #justiceforwaluigi

  2. Great story and writing Arca


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