The ashy particles began to thicken and reform my body, and a scream forced its way out of my burning lungs. Did putting on Dr. Grim’s suit sweep me up the chimney the same way I had swept down it, and to this place of constant charred snow under a pale gray sun? The ashes gave way beneath my feet like sand in a tropical wasteland. As I rubbed my dry eyes and squinted at a disheveled figure sweeping toward me, I sensed the looming presence of death. The late Dr. Grim’s lips began to flake away as he said, “Instead of collecting ashes, now you’ll be scattering them.”

(East Lincoln High School - written by Ms. Carr’s second period AP English class in a ninety-minute workshop this morning.)