Baby-Sitters Club: Write
Title - Write
Fandom - Baby-Sitters Club
Author - isabelquinn
Word count - 2,610
Rating - G
Summary - Mallory's application form for a Creative Arts Scholarship at Riverbend Hall.
Link to table - Link.
Author's note - I felt like doing something a bit different, so I wrote Mal's application form for her Riverbend scholarship. Or, well, my take on it ;)
Some credit is necesary here. "An Accident of Time" is the story Mallory wrote during SS15. Chapter 21 has actual text of the story. I transplanted it across to this fic and built on it, added some extra paragraphs before and after. But a section in the middle is text from the actual book. So, I hereby credit Peter Lerangis for those paragraphs :p
"Rainy Days and Froggy Nights" and "Caught in the Middle" are stories mentioned in #14 and #47 respectively. We don't see any of their text, but we get their premises.
I had a lot of fun writing this! I've been mulling over the idea for awhile, and it really appealed to me. It was fun, writing this way from Mallory's POV. And, of course, thanks to the most excellent ozqueen for beta-ing!
Riverbend Hall
Creative Arts Scholarship
Application Form
Thank you for your interest in Riverbend Hall’s Creative Arts Scholarship. Riverbend Hall places a high emphasis on the creative arts. We offer acclaimed programs in creative writing, dance, drama, music and visual arts, led by passionate instructors who are highly accomplished in their respective fields. Our creative arts courses give students the opportunity to push themselves in their chosen area, and to explore new and exciting methods of self expression.
Creativity permeates all aspects of education at Riverbend Hall. We nurture an environment of teamwork and collaboration, and this is fostered through the medium of artistic expression. We seek students who are passionate and dedicated to their craft, who strive for excellence at all times, and have a distinct appreciation of the role of community. Riverbend Hall encourages young women with a strong commitment to the creative arts to apply for a scholarship.
Please note:
------
01. FULL NAME: Mallory Pike
02. DATE OF BIRTH: May 2, 1989
03. POSTAL ADDRESS: 134 Slate Street, Stoneybrook CT, 06800
04. PRESENT SCHOOL: Stoneybrook Middle School
05. GRADE: 6
06. IN WHICH DISCIPLINE ARE YOU SEEKING A SCHOLARSHIP? | Creative Writing | Dance | Drama | Music | Visual Arts |
07. WHAT DO YOU ENJOY ABOUT THIS DISCIPLINE?
I enjoy countless things about writing. I love being able to invent a little world, and make it come to life using only words. I love playing with words, and looking for the right one that has just the right meaning. I love learning new words and trying to find a way to use them in a story. I love the opportunity to stretch my imagination beyond its limit.
Also, I enjoy the sense of camaraderie that can come from stories and writing. My brothers and sisters all enjoy reading and stories, and I love that imagination can be experienced together as a family. Also, my younger sister is a writer too. Sometimes I share my stories with her, she shares her poems with me, and we tell each other what things we like and suggest ways we can improve.
08. WHAT DO YOU FIND DIFFICULT ABOUT THIS DISCIPLINE?
I find it very hard to devote as much time as I’d like to my writing. I’m the oldest of eight children, and my house is often noisy and hectic. I love my family - they’re very supportive of my writing, and have at times been invaluable in helping me hone my skills. But the reality of life in a big family is that our home is often brimming with pandemonium. It can be very difficult to find the time, the peace and the quiet that I’d like to be able to dedicate to my writing.
I also find it difficult to accept that a piece of work is complete. This has become increasingly difficult over the past year because I have become more serious about my writing. I find myself constantly editing my stories, because I am always convinced that they can be better. This can be a good quality, but I find it quite difficult to be satisfied with a finished story.
09. WHAT INSPIRES YOU TO PURSUE THIS DISCIPLINE?
Firstly, I am inspired by my love of reading. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t love books. Reading gives me the chance to stretch my imagination and learn how published writers choose to craft their stories. My favourite authors are Amelia Moody and Henrietta Hayes. Both these authors write stories that make me feel as though I’m experiencing the story along with the characters. Meeting Amelia Moody at a book signing was a significant moment in my life, because it showed me how much an author can influence people’s emotions. It was a big day, and one of my biggest inspirations to pursue writing.
Secondly, I am inspired by life in general. As I mentioned earlier, I have a big family. Our home is busy and full, and lots of my stories have been inspired by things that have happened to us. I have kept a journal for years, and recording the things that happen to me also inspire countless story ideas.
10. WHAT IS YOUR GREATEST ACCOMPLISHMENT IN THIS DISCIPLINE?
My greatest accomplishment was winning an award on Young Author’s Day, a day arranged by my school to celebrate future writers. My story, Caught in the Middle, won in the category Best Overall Fiction (Sixth Grade). This is my greatest achievement for several reasons. Firstly, I had never won an official award for my writing. Winning this award was a big moment, and I am very proud of what I achieved. Secondly, I had worked extremely hard to get my story finished to a standard that satisfied me. The experience taught me that hard work is worthwhile. And thirdly, because I learnt how valuable my family and friends are for my writing aspirations. I would not have achieved this accomplishment without their support and encouragement.
11. IF APPLICABLE, PLEASE ATTACH DETAIL OF YOUR AUDITION PIECES:
n/a
12. IF APPLICABLE, PLEASE ATTACH SAMPLES OF YOUR WORK:
Sample #1: Extract from a short novel, "An Accident of Time"
Mariel climbed up the stairs, feeling the soft carpet between her toes. Her father had recently decided to re-carpet the hall, and Mariel loved the lush feeling of the new, dark green fibers. She slipped into her small bedroom, ready to collapse into bed. The long school day had left her feeling tired, unusually so. She pulled her sheets up to her chin, grateful to be finally closing her eyes.
But hours passed and Mariel wasn’t able to stay asleep. She could feel the minutes, minutes that each seemed an entire day in length, crawl past. She punched her pillow in frustration. She was utterly exhausted, why couldn’t she go to sleep? Why was she lying awake while it seemed as though ages were slipping by? It didn’t make any sense. A soft breeze blew at her curtains, and the fabric brushed against her cheek. Keeping her eyes closed, she slapped at it irritably.
Mariel tossed and turned. Something was off. Could it have been the milk she had drunk the night before? It had tasted a bit sour. But that wouldn’t explain the strange, coarse feel of the sheets. And the vague odor of old wood and candle wax.
But it was the loud, rhythmic clop-clop-clop outside her window that finally made her eyes spring open. The sunlight blinded her. Through squinted eyes she made out the shape of gauzy, waving fabric. White fabric. Not at all like the curtains over her bed.
She sat up and looked out the window. And what she saw nearly made her heart stop. No driveway, no maple trees, no familiar sight of the Timmermans’ house across the street. In fact, there was no paved street at all.
I have a feeling I’m not in Stoneyfield anymore, Mariel said to herself. She felt a sudden wave of terror. What had happened? Where were her curtains? Her bed? Her town?
Tentatively, she slid her feet out of bed. The rough, wooden floorboards were a shock to her bare feet. A small rug, embroidered with purple cats, usually lay beside her bed. And there should have been polished floorboards beneath the rug. She tiptoed to her door and eased it open. A deep, rumbling voice was emanating up the stairs. It sounded familiar to Mariel - very familiar. But the strange events of the morning had left her shaken and nervous, and she didn’t care call out to her father. What if it wasn’t him at all? What if it was a stranger?
She crept down the stairs. She placed her feet carefully, as there was no green carpet to muffle the sound of her footsteps. With a sudden bang, the kitchen door burst open.
In that split second, it occurred to Mariel that she was a stranger in this house. Fear welled up in her throat. She closed her eyes, cringing, expecting accusations of trespassing to be immediately hurled at her.
“Mariel?” said the familiar voice.
She opened her eyes.
“Mariel, you’re very late! Come quickly and begin your chores!” The man looked and sounded exactly like her father - except he had a coarse beard and moustache, and he wore unfamiliar old-fashioned clothing.
Bewildered, Mariel nodded.
“What on earth is going on?” she wondered.
Sample #2: A short story, "Rainy Days and Froggy Nights"
Splish-splash, splish-splash.
Ferris the frog hopped joyfully through the rain, relishing each and every droplet of water. He leaped among the puddles, croaking with laughter at the delightful splashing sounds he made. Splish-splash, splish-splash.
Ferris splish-splashed his way along the sidewalk. He usually preferred to stay at his home in the pond, but everything was so deliciously wet today. He had decided hop down the street and visit his friends, friends who usually visited him. He thought they might like to play, especially since it was such a nice day to be outside.
He hopped up to the tall tree where his friend Spencer lived. Spencer was a squirrel, and he was always visiting Ferris at his pond. Some trees near Ferris’s home grew Spencer’s favourite kind of nut. Spencer once offered a nut to Ferris, but Ferris didn’t find it very tasty.
“Spencer!” croaked Ferris. “It’s a beautiful day! Come out and play with me!”
Spencer poked his furry head out of a hollow in the tree.
“A beautiful day? But it’s pouring with rain!”
“Exactly!” replied Ferris. “Let’s play leapfrog!”
“Sorry, Ferris,” answered Spencer. “But I’d like to stay warm and dry in my tree. Perhaps Kip will play with you.”
Ferris said goodbye to Spencer and hopped away. He splashed across the road to Kip’s home, and squeezed through a frog-sized gap in the fence. His wide eyes carefully combed the backyard. Yards seemed so enormous to a small frog like Ferris. And Kip could be difficult to find - he liked to sleep in the strangest places.
“Ferris!” mewed a soft voice.
Ferris grinned and leaped cheerfully over to Kip the kitten, who was curled up underneath a low bush.
“Hello, Kip!” he croaked. “Isn’t it a lovely day?”
Kip yawned. “It’s a lovely day for a good long sleep, Ferris.”
“No, it isn’t!” argued Ferris. “It’s a day for playing outside. Would you like to join me?”
Kip rested his head against the soft ground, his nose resting on his tail. “Not today, Ferris. Perhaps Chelsea will play with you. She likes to play in the rain.”
“Alright,” agreed Ferris. “Goodbye, Kip!”
But Kip was already asleep.
Ferris splished and splashed his way to the next yard over. He could see a little blond girl inside the house, her nose pressed against the window. She saw Ferris hopping towards her and a smile lit up her face. She waved cheerfully.
“Hello, Chelsea!” said Ferris.
With a rusty squeak, the child opened the window. “Hello Ferris! Are you enjoying the rain?”
“Very much!” answered Ferris. “Would you like to come outside and play with me?”
“Oh,” said Chelsea, looking disappointed. “I’d love to, but I have a cold. Mommy said that I have to stay inside today. I’m sorry, Ferris.”
Ferris sighed. “That’s alright. I’ll come again during the next rainstorm.”
After saying goodbye to Chelsea, Ferris hopped sadly back towards his pond. He did not feel as buoyant as he had earlier. With a dejected plop he sank into his pond and began to sulk. It was such a nice day, but no-one would play with him. It wasn’t fair.
After a few minutes, he heard a faint splish-splash. Curiously, He poked his nose above water. He saw a fuzzy little creature standing on the bank of his pond. It had webbed feet, like him, and was a pale brownish-yellow colour.
“Hello,” quacked the creature. “Who are you?”
“I’m Ferris,” he replied hesitantly. “Ferris the frog. Who are you?”
“I’m Dana. I’m a duckling.” Dana tilted her head hopefully. “Would you like to play with me?”
Ferris swam hopefully to the edge of the pond. “Do you know how to play leap frog?”
“No,” replied Dana with a cheery quack. “Can you teach me?”
“Of course!” Ferris scrambled out of his pond. The mud was especially squelchy today, and he smiled. For Ferris, there was nothing quite like a rainy day.
Sample #3: Extract from a short novel, “Caught in the Middle”
Tess sat cross-legged on her bed, a novel open on her lap. It was an old favourite - she had read this story countless times and the paperback had developed a worn, friendly look. Her bed was soft and comfortable, and she was leaning against her favourite fish-shaped cushion. Her room was a cozy sanctuary, and one of her favourite places to lose herself in a good book. But she couldn’t concentrate on the plot. Even with her door closed, and her favourite CD playing, she could hear her sister’s raised voice echoing from the living room.
“But you don’t even know him! You’ve only met him once and you think you know him!”
It was the second time in five minutes that Anna had made this argument. And it was an argument that had happened every day since Anna had started dating Dave. Tess didn’t know much about Dave. She only knew that he had a blue streak in his hair, that always wore a black leather jacket, and that her parents thought he was trouble.
“Mom, I’ve known him since first grade!” shouted Anna. “Of course I know him! And I know him better than you do!”
Tess didn’t feel too sorry for Anna. She was always allowed to do things that Tess wasn’t, and Tess couldn’t help thinking that it was about time her parents didn’t let Anna do something for once.
More shouts caught her ear. These ones were higher in pitch, and they were drifting through her open window instead of her closed door. She looked out the window and groaned. Her younger brothers were finally home. She watched the identical nine-year-old boys, unruly dark curls flying in all directions, as they chased each other up the sidewalk. They were an hour late coming home from school. This could only mean they had had another detention.
One of her brothers - probably Aiden - slammed the front door with a bang that seemed to shake the whole house. Tess heard the frustrated tones of her mother snapping at Aiden and Jack. Tess vaguely wondered what exactly she was angry about - their umpteenth detention, or slamming the door so hard that they would probably break it again? Or maybe she had finally discovered their secret worm farm in the laundry room.
Tess sighed. She was getting hungry, and it was nearly dinner time. But decided she’d rather keep reading her book. She sank back onto her fish cushion, knowing that it wouldn’t matter if she didn’t go downstairs. Her parents would be far too busy arguing with her siblings to even notice her absence.
THANK YOU FOR TAKING THE TIME TO APPLY FOR A RIVERBEND HALL CREATIVE ARTS SCHOLARSHIP. THE SCHOOL WILL CONTACT YOU VIA MAIL REGARDING THE SUCCESS OF YOUR APPLICATION.
Fandom - Baby-Sitters Club
Author - isabelquinn
Word count - 2,610
Rating - G
Summary - Mallory's application form for a Creative Arts Scholarship at Riverbend Hall.
Link to table - Link.
Author's note - I felt like doing something a bit different, so I wrote Mal's application form for her Riverbend scholarship. Or, well, my take on it ;)
Some credit is necesary here. "An Accident of Time" is the story Mallory wrote during SS15. Chapter 21 has actual text of the story. I transplanted it across to this fic and built on it, added some extra paragraphs before and after. But a section in the middle is text from the actual book. So, I hereby credit Peter Lerangis for those paragraphs :p
"Rainy Days and Froggy Nights" and "Caught in the Middle" are stories mentioned in #14 and #47 respectively. We don't see any of their text, but we get their premises.
I had a lot of fun writing this! I've been mulling over the idea for awhile, and it really appealed to me. It was fun, writing this way from Mallory's POV. And, of course, thanks to the most excellent ozqueen for beta-ing!
Riverbend Hall
Creative Arts Scholarship
Application Form
Thank you for your interest in Riverbend Hall’s Creative Arts Scholarship. Riverbend Hall places a high emphasis on the creative arts. We offer acclaimed programs in creative writing, dance, drama, music and visual arts, led by passionate instructors who are highly accomplished in their respective fields. Our creative arts courses give students the opportunity to push themselves in their chosen area, and to explore new and exciting methods of self expression.
Creativity permeates all aspects of education at Riverbend Hall. We nurture an environment of teamwork and collaboration, and this is fostered through the medium of artistic expression. We seek students who are passionate and dedicated to their craft, who strive for excellence at all times, and have a distinct appreciation of the role of community. Riverbend Hall encourages young women with a strong commitment to the creative arts to apply for a scholarship.
Please note:
- Questions 7-10 address the student’s attitude and commitment to their craft, and are to be completed by the student.
- Question 11 (detail of audition pieces) is to be completed by dance, drama and music applicants. Applicants will be contacted within six weeks of applying to arrange an audition.
- Question 12 (samples of work) is to be completed by creative writing and visual arts applicants. Creative writing applicants are asked to submit no more than 2000 words.
------
01. FULL NAME: Mallory Pike
02. DATE OF BIRTH: May 2, 1989
03. POSTAL ADDRESS: 134 Slate Street, Stoneybrook CT, 06800
04. PRESENT SCHOOL: Stoneybrook Middle School
05. GRADE: 6
06. IN WHICH DISCIPLINE ARE YOU SEEKING A SCHOLARSHIP? | Creative Writing | Dance | Drama | Music | Visual Arts |
07. WHAT DO YOU ENJOY ABOUT THIS DISCIPLINE?
I enjoy countless things about writing. I love being able to invent a little world, and make it come to life using only words. I love playing with words, and looking for the right one that has just the right meaning. I love learning new words and trying to find a way to use them in a story. I love the opportunity to stretch my imagination beyond its limit.
Also, I enjoy the sense of camaraderie that can come from stories and writing. My brothers and sisters all enjoy reading and stories, and I love that imagination can be experienced together as a family. Also, my younger sister is a writer too. Sometimes I share my stories with her, she shares her poems with me, and we tell each other what things we like and suggest ways we can improve.
08. WHAT DO YOU FIND DIFFICULT ABOUT THIS DISCIPLINE?
I find it very hard to devote as much time as I’d like to my writing. I’m the oldest of eight children, and my house is often noisy and hectic. I love my family - they’re very supportive of my writing, and have at times been invaluable in helping me hone my skills. But the reality of life in a big family is that our home is often brimming with pandemonium. It can be very difficult to find the time, the peace and the quiet that I’d like to be able to dedicate to my writing.
I also find it difficult to accept that a piece of work is complete. This has become increasingly difficult over the past year because I have become more serious about my writing. I find myself constantly editing my stories, because I am always convinced that they can be better. This can be a good quality, but I find it quite difficult to be satisfied with a finished story.
09. WHAT INSPIRES YOU TO PURSUE THIS DISCIPLINE?
Firstly, I am inspired by my love of reading. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t love books. Reading gives me the chance to stretch my imagination and learn how published writers choose to craft their stories. My favourite authors are Amelia Moody and Henrietta Hayes. Both these authors write stories that make me feel as though I’m experiencing the story along with the characters. Meeting Amelia Moody at a book signing was a significant moment in my life, because it showed me how much an author can influence people’s emotions. It was a big day, and one of my biggest inspirations to pursue writing.
Secondly, I am inspired by life in general. As I mentioned earlier, I have a big family. Our home is busy and full, and lots of my stories have been inspired by things that have happened to us. I have kept a journal for years, and recording the things that happen to me also inspire countless story ideas.
10. WHAT IS YOUR GREATEST ACCOMPLISHMENT IN THIS DISCIPLINE?
My greatest accomplishment was winning an award on Young Author’s Day, a day arranged by my school to celebrate future writers. My story, Caught in the Middle, won in the category Best Overall Fiction (Sixth Grade). This is my greatest achievement for several reasons. Firstly, I had never won an official award for my writing. Winning this award was a big moment, and I am very proud of what I achieved. Secondly, I had worked extremely hard to get my story finished to a standard that satisfied me. The experience taught me that hard work is worthwhile. And thirdly, because I learnt how valuable my family and friends are for my writing aspirations. I would not have achieved this accomplishment without their support and encouragement.
11. IF APPLICABLE, PLEASE ATTACH DETAIL OF YOUR AUDITION PIECES:
n/a
12. IF APPLICABLE, PLEASE ATTACH SAMPLES OF YOUR WORK:
Sample #1: Extract from a short novel, "An Accident of Time"
Mariel climbed up the stairs, feeling the soft carpet between her toes. Her father had recently decided to re-carpet the hall, and Mariel loved the lush feeling of the new, dark green fibers. She slipped into her small bedroom, ready to collapse into bed. The long school day had left her feeling tired, unusually so. She pulled her sheets up to her chin, grateful to be finally closing her eyes.
But hours passed and Mariel wasn’t able to stay asleep. She could feel the minutes, minutes that each seemed an entire day in length, crawl past. She punched her pillow in frustration. She was utterly exhausted, why couldn’t she go to sleep? Why was she lying awake while it seemed as though ages were slipping by? It didn’t make any sense. A soft breeze blew at her curtains, and the fabric brushed against her cheek. Keeping her eyes closed, she slapped at it irritably.
Mariel tossed and turned. Something was off. Could it have been the milk she had drunk the night before? It had tasted a bit sour. But that wouldn’t explain the strange, coarse feel of the sheets. And the vague odor of old wood and candle wax.
But it was the loud, rhythmic clop-clop-clop outside her window that finally made her eyes spring open. The sunlight blinded her. Through squinted eyes she made out the shape of gauzy, waving fabric. White fabric. Not at all like the curtains over her bed.
She sat up and looked out the window. And what she saw nearly made her heart stop. No driveway, no maple trees, no familiar sight of the Timmermans’ house across the street. In fact, there was no paved street at all.
I have a feeling I’m not in Stoneyfield anymore, Mariel said to herself. She felt a sudden wave of terror. What had happened? Where were her curtains? Her bed? Her town?
Tentatively, she slid her feet out of bed. The rough, wooden floorboards were a shock to her bare feet. A small rug, embroidered with purple cats, usually lay beside her bed. And there should have been polished floorboards beneath the rug. She tiptoed to her door and eased it open. A deep, rumbling voice was emanating up the stairs. It sounded familiar to Mariel - very familiar. But the strange events of the morning had left her shaken and nervous, and she didn’t care call out to her father. What if it wasn’t him at all? What if it was a stranger?
She crept down the stairs. She placed her feet carefully, as there was no green carpet to muffle the sound of her footsteps. With a sudden bang, the kitchen door burst open.
In that split second, it occurred to Mariel that she was a stranger in this house. Fear welled up in her throat. She closed her eyes, cringing, expecting accusations of trespassing to be immediately hurled at her.
“Mariel?” said the familiar voice.
She opened her eyes.
“Mariel, you’re very late! Come quickly and begin your chores!” The man looked and sounded exactly like her father - except he had a coarse beard and moustache, and he wore unfamiliar old-fashioned clothing.
Bewildered, Mariel nodded.
“What on earth is going on?” she wondered.
Sample #2: A short story, "Rainy Days and Froggy Nights"
Splish-splash, splish-splash.
Ferris the frog hopped joyfully through the rain, relishing each and every droplet of water. He leaped among the puddles, croaking with laughter at the delightful splashing sounds he made. Splish-splash, splish-splash.
Ferris splish-splashed his way along the sidewalk. He usually preferred to stay at his home in the pond, but everything was so deliciously wet today. He had decided hop down the street and visit his friends, friends who usually visited him. He thought they might like to play, especially since it was such a nice day to be outside.
He hopped up to the tall tree where his friend Spencer lived. Spencer was a squirrel, and he was always visiting Ferris at his pond. Some trees near Ferris’s home grew Spencer’s favourite kind of nut. Spencer once offered a nut to Ferris, but Ferris didn’t find it very tasty.
“Spencer!” croaked Ferris. “It’s a beautiful day! Come out and play with me!”
Spencer poked his furry head out of a hollow in the tree.
“A beautiful day? But it’s pouring with rain!”
“Exactly!” replied Ferris. “Let’s play leapfrog!”
“Sorry, Ferris,” answered Spencer. “But I’d like to stay warm and dry in my tree. Perhaps Kip will play with you.”
Ferris said goodbye to Spencer and hopped away. He splashed across the road to Kip’s home, and squeezed through a frog-sized gap in the fence. His wide eyes carefully combed the backyard. Yards seemed so enormous to a small frog like Ferris. And Kip could be difficult to find - he liked to sleep in the strangest places.
“Ferris!” mewed a soft voice.
Ferris grinned and leaped cheerfully over to Kip the kitten, who was curled up underneath a low bush.
“Hello, Kip!” he croaked. “Isn’t it a lovely day?”
Kip yawned. “It’s a lovely day for a good long sleep, Ferris.”
“No, it isn’t!” argued Ferris. “It’s a day for playing outside. Would you like to join me?”
Kip rested his head against the soft ground, his nose resting on his tail. “Not today, Ferris. Perhaps Chelsea will play with you. She likes to play in the rain.”
“Alright,” agreed Ferris. “Goodbye, Kip!”
But Kip was already asleep.
Ferris splished and splashed his way to the next yard over. He could see a little blond girl inside the house, her nose pressed against the window. She saw Ferris hopping towards her and a smile lit up her face. She waved cheerfully.
“Hello, Chelsea!” said Ferris.
With a rusty squeak, the child opened the window. “Hello Ferris! Are you enjoying the rain?”
“Very much!” answered Ferris. “Would you like to come outside and play with me?”
“Oh,” said Chelsea, looking disappointed. “I’d love to, but I have a cold. Mommy said that I have to stay inside today. I’m sorry, Ferris.”
Ferris sighed. “That’s alright. I’ll come again during the next rainstorm.”
After saying goodbye to Chelsea, Ferris hopped sadly back towards his pond. He did not feel as buoyant as he had earlier. With a dejected plop he sank into his pond and began to sulk. It was such a nice day, but no-one would play with him. It wasn’t fair.
After a few minutes, he heard a faint splish-splash. Curiously, He poked his nose above water. He saw a fuzzy little creature standing on the bank of his pond. It had webbed feet, like him, and was a pale brownish-yellow colour.
“Hello,” quacked the creature. “Who are you?”
“I’m Ferris,” he replied hesitantly. “Ferris the frog. Who are you?”
“I’m Dana. I’m a duckling.” Dana tilted her head hopefully. “Would you like to play with me?”
Ferris swam hopefully to the edge of the pond. “Do you know how to play leap frog?”
“No,” replied Dana with a cheery quack. “Can you teach me?”
“Of course!” Ferris scrambled out of his pond. The mud was especially squelchy today, and he smiled. For Ferris, there was nothing quite like a rainy day.
Sample #3: Extract from a short novel, “Caught in the Middle”
Tess sat cross-legged on her bed, a novel open on her lap. It was an old favourite - she had read this story countless times and the paperback had developed a worn, friendly look. Her bed was soft and comfortable, and she was leaning against her favourite fish-shaped cushion. Her room was a cozy sanctuary, and one of her favourite places to lose herself in a good book. But she couldn’t concentrate on the plot. Even with her door closed, and her favourite CD playing, she could hear her sister’s raised voice echoing from the living room.
“But you don’t even know him! You’ve only met him once and you think you know him!”
It was the second time in five minutes that Anna had made this argument. And it was an argument that had happened every day since Anna had started dating Dave. Tess didn’t know much about Dave. She only knew that he had a blue streak in his hair, that always wore a black leather jacket, and that her parents thought he was trouble.
“Mom, I’ve known him since first grade!” shouted Anna. “Of course I know him! And I know him better than you do!”
Tess didn’t feel too sorry for Anna. She was always allowed to do things that Tess wasn’t, and Tess couldn’t help thinking that it was about time her parents didn’t let Anna do something for once.
More shouts caught her ear. These ones were higher in pitch, and they were drifting through her open window instead of her closed door. She looked out the window and groaned. Her younger brothers were finally home. She watched the identical nine-year-old boys, unruly dark curls flying in all directions, as they chased each other up the sidewalk. They were an hour late coming home from school. This could only mean they had had another detention.
One of her brothers - probably Aiden - slammed the front door with a bang that seemed to shake the whole house. Tess heard the frustrated tones of her mother snapping at Aiden and Jack. Tess vaguely wondered what exactly she was angry about - their umpteenth detention, or slamming the door so hard that they would probably break it again? Or maybe she had finally discovered their secret worm farm in the laundry room.
Tess sighed. She was getting hungry, and it was nearly dinner time. But decided she’d rather keep reading her book. She sank back onto her fish cushion, knowing that it wouldn’t matter if she didn’t go downstairs. Her parents would be far too busy arguing with her siblings to even notice her absence.
THANK YOU FOR TAKING THE TIME TO APPLY FOR A RIVERBEND HALL CREATIVE ARTS SCHOLARSHIP. THE SCHOOL WILL CONTACT YOU VIA MAIL REGARDING THE SUCCESS OF YOUR APPLICATION.