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Creative Writing “outside the box”
By Sam Armstrong

I wrote these for my Creative Writing class. The first piece was originally written to describe one object that we chose to observe. I observed a bicycle. After that, we had to describe that same object in terms of something else. I learned that this was called conceit. And I decided to try to describe a bicycle using nouns, verbs, and adjectives that would normally be used to describe a whale.

In the second piece, we had to compose a poem of 10 sentences. The first sentence had to have 10 words, the next sentence had to have 9, and so on until the last line of the poem was only one word. It really made us think, plan ahead, and choose our words carefully.

I enjoyed writing these, even if they are small works, so I thought I’d share them with the Teen Scribes and County News Online readers.

Intro to Creative Writing
Observations w/ Conceit
By Sam Armstrong

You drifted there, stilling your cushioned blubber seat while you waited for your tires to again give way under the weight of a smaller machine with more flesh. You recalled the days of old, before the Wetsuit Wearers carelessly drove your hulking frame and controlled your every stroke, and then invented better versions of you to navigate, with flashing button colors to make themselves better. Now the veins gliding from your flippers are clogged with grease and dust from your Samsara tail, and the rate and flow of your electric blood is another gearshift of the person your silver spokes will never quite bring into focus.

“We need your pipes for support, we need your pedals to go faster, because your moons reflect the bulbs of the bigger machines churning by us everyday.” These demands chaotically swam around as you tried in vain to protect your golden bell from their curious infant fingers. But your song was silent when the rest of the machines were screaming smoke and mirrors.

By Sam Armstrong

It lay silently next to the drawer with the forks.
Parallel to the granite countertop, close to the ladle.
It winced as silver cut up chilled meat.
Unheard groans signaled its impending role: accomplice.
It wasn’t that he was evil.
He was simply a handle.
A means of violence.
A black cover.
A guard.

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