High School Writing Project 2.0 Anthology Short Story Collection: High School Writing Project 2.0, #1

By Lois Young, Seth King, Danica Myerson and Steven Roberts

Friends. Fun. Romance. Drama. Danger. Tragedy.  HIGH SCHOOL.

High School Writing Project 2.0 features short stories and flash fiction written by high school students about teenage characters.  The stories in this edition touch on a variety of subjects including teenage suicide, mental illness, superstition, romance, and ESP.

Short stories included in the anthology:

Everything To Live For by Steven Roberts – When a distraught high school senior decides to end his own life, he is surprised to meet a man claiming to be his guardian angel who shows him the effect his suicide will have on his friends, loved ones, and even strangers.

Danica Myerson contributed the following three stories set among a group of students all in the same psychology class.

It's Not Always Easy – Diane and Abby were best friends.  Then Jack entered their lives.  Will competition over a cute guy ruin their friendship?

What The Eye Can't See – Who would have guessed that underneath Kelly's silent, sweet personality there was a dangerous and violent girl waiting for her chance to come out?

A State of Mind – Chain letter e-mails don't mean anything.  They're only superstition.  Right?

The Premonition by Seth King – Greg awakens from a bad dream convinced that something awful is going to happen that day. His older sister insists that he's reacting to nothing more than an overactive imagination.  Proving that his nightmare was indeed a psychic premonition will come at a terrible price.

Lois Young provided three thoughtful essays for the collection.

A Tale of Two Teachers takes a humorous look back at the contrasting styles of her two sixth grade teachers.

If I Could Be Principal lays out her vision for changing her high school.

The Christmas Package tells a simple story of a life lesson learned the hard way.

• Language: English
• Publisher: High School Voices Press
• Release date: Sep 7, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386477143

Book preview

Everything To Live For

Yeah, sure, I tried to kill myself.  What do you care?  Why should you care?  You don't even know me and the people who did know me didn't even care.  John said that I was wrong.  John said that everybody has at least one person who cares whether he or she lives or dies.

Let me explain.  John is well, my guardian angel.  I never would have believed that guardian angels really exist.  When I told John my theory, he looked hurt and said, I'm here, am I not?  Do you think you're talking to yourself?  I'm as real as you are.  Angels have feelings too, you know.

Great, so maybe I really did have a guardian angel.  He turns out to be a sensitive one and now I've insulted him.  I can't even die right, I thought to myself.

I still wasn't completely convinced.  If you're my guardian angel, where are your wings?  Where's the flowing spotless white robe?

Rick, John answered, this isn't a movie.  This is, rather was, your life.  Then he paused and added with a wink, I only use the robe and wings for pictures.

Brilliant, I thought.  This guys thinks he's a comedian.

John continued, Actually, I can take any form I need to.

John stood before me as a man of about thirty-three years old.  He was tall and muscular.  His wavy black hair was brushed forward.  He reminded me of one of those guys who has this really nice wife and four kids as well as tons of women chasing him, begging him to break his marriage vows.  Of course, virtuous guy that he is, he always refuses the ladies and their advances.

Anyway, I'm getting off the subject.  I hope I'm not confusing you.  Let me start from the beginning...

It was a Friday afternoon.  There was a half day at school.  I got home around one o'clock.  I had made up my mind that morning in Miss Johnston's English class.  She was talking about Shakespeare and Queen Somebody or Other.

If there was one adult I could have talked to about what was going on in my life, it would have been her.  Miss Johnston was young, pretty, and really sweet.  However, she was a teacher so what would she know about being a seventeen year old kid?

When I got home from school, I had to decide HOW.  There were lots of options: shooting myself, hanging, poisoning, prescription drug overdose, jumping from a bridge, a car accident, gassing myself with car exhaust in the garage, etc.  There were probably dozens of other ways I hadn't even considered.

Shooting myself was out since I didn't have access to a firearm.  I didn't have my own car so that eliminated a number of possibilities right there.  I'd have to think of something practical and readily available.  Razor blades!  I could slit my wrists.  That seemed easy enough. 

I wanted to pay everyone back for the way they had made me feel.  I also wanted to escape those feelings.  I had alternate sentiments of anger and depression.

At first, I thought I should die in my bedroom.  I spent most of my time there trying to find the comfort when I was by myself that I couldn't find when I was with other people.

Then I thought that the living room might be a better choice.  At least there, I could be the center of attention in our family's Grand Central Station for once.  I couldn't wait to see their reactions.

Finally, I realized that I wouldn't see their reactions because I would be dead.  Oh well, they wouldn't really care anyway.

I walked into the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet.  A new package of razors had to be opened.  The plastic casing broke easily.  I picked up a razor blade.  It got caught in a ray of sunlight coming through the window.  The reflection of the sunlight blinded me for a second.  Ever so carefully, I carried the blade into the living room. 

I think Miss Johnston would have called that an example of irony.  What's the point of carrying a sharp object carefully so you don't cut yourself if your goal is to slice your body open with it when you get to your destination?

The light in the center of the room shone directly above me.  I pulled the shades down, looked around the room and inhaled deeply.  This was the last time I would ever see my house or my furniture.  I said, Good-bye out loud.  I don't know why.