Writers Express Youth Environmental Writing Contest

“Where do you see yourself in ten years?”By Rosalie DunnHastings High School2026 winner for high school “Where do you see yourself in ten years?”Ten-year-old me would've said, “In a big city! With my best friend sleeping in the room next to me, and five little kittens, and a huge garden on the patio!”As I slowly drifted away from ten and towards twenty, those dreams have slowly drifted too. A layer of fog has settled where these hopes once dwelled. Now those ten years have melted like ice, and the future of adulthood is looming. “Where do you see yourself in 10 years?”!6-year-old me doesn't know.I don’t see myself, actually. I see my hometown, trees bent with tiredness and lawns turning colorless. I see my labrador Daisy laying on my kitchen floor with nowhere to play. The blackened strawberries of my sister’s dead garden dropped like flies to the gray earth. In 4 years, climate change will become irreversible. Everything we know will be gone- the childhoods of playing in the woodsthe dreams of a life unshackled by the receding economythe hope that maybe, just maybe, we can fix what we’ve doneThere is no time like the present. Act now, and act fast. This earth is all we have.Only a deranged child would kill its mother.

ElevenBy Gabby ShoreHastings High School2026 winner for high school When I was eleven,I learned that loving animals came with conditions.Love the dog. Love the cat.Love the rabbit on Easter Sunday.But don’t ask too many questions about the chicken.Don’t think about the cow.Don’t wonder where they go. I wondered anyway. I thought about buildings with high ceilingsbut no windows.About trucks on highways.About how an animal can spend its whole life without ever seeing the sky.Maybe that’s where every environmental issue begins.Not in the atmosphere.Not in the sea.But in the momentwe stop seeing a lifeas a life.I was only eleven.Old enough to ask why.So I pushed my plate aside.I opened my eyes that day.And once I saw the light,I never looked away.

UntitledBy Sienna CambriaHastings High School2026 winner for high school I swim, through the clear blue sea,The water so blue I can see all aboveand below me.the fish, the turtles, wandering by,I return to the beach, sad withwhat I see, a kingdom, not ofanimals, but trash staring at me.Where there was once turtles, liebottles, of drinks scattered around,all because we put our trash onthe ground. The beach once crowdedwith people and beauty, nowtaken over with things that welayed, what do you think thesea turtles, say as we wreckthere home, there bay. we mustnot liter, not destroy there home,we must leavethose creatures alone.

ChangesBy Defne AkinciEastchester Middle School2026 winner for middle school There is this feeling that you get,Like everything has changed,In the last couple of years,After what has happened.Every day feels different,The hot air burns,Even in the wintertime,The weather keeps taking turns.It is not supposed to be like this,The glaciers should not be melting,As we speak,The animals should not be becoming more weak.So do something about it,Do something to transform the beast that caught us,To go back to the good old days,Where climate change hadn't been there without us.

Rescue on the BeachBy Nefeli Antonogiannakis and Celeste PawlowskiDobbs Ferry Middle School2026 winner for middle school In the small town of Vik, Iceland, lived two young girls, Kria and Freyja. Kria and Freyja adored animals, almost as much as their leisurely walks on the shoreline. They had been best friends since the very beginning, when they were young children in primary school, and had met as they walked the beautiful shores of black sand. They had always been together since then, sharing their passion for the ocean and animals, as inseparable as salt and pepper. One day, just like any other, they sprinted out of school the second the bell rang, rushing to the beach. Little did they know this afternoon at the beach would be much stranger than their usual strolls. As Kria and Freyja began their walk, they heard, amidst the soft brushing and movements of the waves against the coal-colored sand, a sharp, pained squawk tearing through the quiet air. Freyja looked over to Kria with wide eyes.“Do you hear that?” she exclaimed. Kria nodded, starting to walk towards the noise. “Freyja, look!” Kria said as her eyes widened, aghast with shock. “Oh no! How terrible!” Freyja exclaimed. In front of them, lying on the rocks lay a small puffin, black and white feathers adorning its plumage, as a fiery red-yellow beak caught their eyes. Its shining eyes shone under the sun like crystals under a light. Fractured crystals. Broken, as the puffin’s body was held closely together by a transparent wrap, tangling around its legs all the way up to its beak. Plastic wrap, floating through the ocean like colorless poison through water. Kria hurried to the puffin, her breath shaking, and heart beating through her chest and up to her throat. “Oh, the poor thing!” she exclaimed, watching as it struggled to escape its binds, its wings trapped in the plastic cage. “Shouldn’t we do something?” “Yeah, but what can we do?” Freyja said, crossing her arms and frowning. “It’s not like we’re grown ups… Face it Kria, we can’t do anything.” “We might not be grown-ups, but that doesn't mean that we can’t help.” Freyja sighed, her vision traveling from the clouded sky to the calm ocean toying with the sand, to her friend, and finally the troubled bird. It was true, how would she pass up an offer for an adventure with her best friend? And how could she ignore an injured animal crying out for help like an infant?Kria picked up the frail bird, staring it through the eyes, holding its feathers carefully. “You’ll be okay, I promise.” she whispered to it, gently rocking it in her arms— now wet from its seawater-ridden plumage against her skin. Freyja motioned to Kria with a movement of her fingers, pointing them through the wind toward the village. Kria nodded, her core shaking from the small bird against her chest. And so, like rocks carried through a dry desert, Kria and Freyja made their way through Vik, weaving through the pebbled streets, as the wind whistled and sang behind them. The bird stayed in Kria’s arms, still and quiet. “It must be a baby puffin, don’t you think?” Freyja said, turning to Kria, her yellowed blonde hair waving in the wind. “I mean take a look at its size.” Kria replied. She closed her eyes for a moment, cooing to the baby. “I can nearly hold it in the palms of my hands.” It seemed to be seconds later when Freyja and Kria arrived to the dear warmth of Kria's house. It was a brick structure, painted white– against the gray landscape and the sun peeking through clouds toward it, the girls nearly had to avert their eyes from it after the darkness. They were greeted with a wonderful snack, jam and bread, that Kria's mom gladly prepared for them. Freyja lowered the puffin in her arms just enough so no one could know. Soon after their snack, Freyja and Kria went to Kria's room, carefully placing the small bird down on her bed.  Kria gently unwrapped the plastic from the puffin, unwrapping it from its binds with a pair of scissors. The puffin, freed from its jail, gave a grateful chirp, its eyes settling beneath the light slowly. Freyja picked up the puffin and wrapped a soft blanket around it, finally settling it back onto her bed. “Okay, now what do we do?” Kria turned to Freyja. “Can’t we just, like, leave it back in the water?”  “Well…” Freyja said, examining the puffin, frowning, “Maybe we should find a rescue nearby.” With her small fingers she traced the irritated, red lines across the little puffin’s neck– the remnants of its binds. Kria nodded slowly and leaned to her desk, where her mother’s old computer sat, dusted with years of use. Kria’s pride and joy it was. “Look here,” Kria began, scanning the bright website page, “It says they specialize in animals polluted by plastic,” Her eyes lit up, crystal fragments of joy settling into them, “Whatever that means.”“Wow,” Freyja said, squinting to the monitor, “It says millions of animals die of plastic poisoning per year.” “Freyja," Kria began, shifting in her chair, “I think we should tell my mom about the puffin… and maybe she can drive us to the shelter.”“I agree,” Freyja nodded. “We can’t just sit here and not do anything.”When they arrived at the animal rescue, Kria and Freyja spent their time speaking to the managers, who carefully took the puffin in. “I’m so glad we could save a life!” Freyja said as they walked to the car. Kria nodded. The girls soon returned to the comfort of their homes and went to sleep, their dreams illustrating the sweet day’s spoils. They could almost see the sweet puffin before them; how it would feel, finally dry, clean, and healthy. Epilogue Soon after, when the puffin had recovered, Kria and Freyja began a campaign to reduce the plastic waste that goes into the oceans every year. It turned out, their campaign was very successful and they managed to teach many young children about the horrid effects of plastic pollution. Eventually, once they were old enough, they moved to the United States and initiated an animal hospital, focused on helping animals that were harmed by plastic. And they have never looked back since.

A World Full of Tears and HeatBy Colin MuiPierre Van Cortland Middle School2026 winner for middle school From my perspective,Too far up in the sky,I watch humans run and screamAs their own mistakes bring their demise.I cannot warn them,But I can tell you all,The horrific stories I’ve seen.I‘ve heard the cries of a woman,On an island in the sea,Screaming for her child who got lost to the heat.She just lost her love to the same thing,And she knows she’s leaving soon after.I see a man running through his fields,Trying to get his animals to shelter from the storm,But the waves are closing in,He and his cattle are swallowed all up.I see another,In a land where they farm to survive.The heat kills their crops,But the man gives all he has for others,At the cost of making it to autumn.Deep in the woods,I hear a car driving through flames and smoke.A woman has her family in their car,She speeds through the spreading fire,Thinking only of her kids.She thinks she’s so close,Until she runs out of gas.But perhaps we take a lookOn what happened here?These people are suffering, but why in the first place?I see a man, Leaving his car turned on in the woods,Even though he left the car4 hours ago.The emissions are like a feast to the dry forest.A spark ignites.There is a woman, Throwing away half of her food.It also gives out emissions, Spreading heat out everywhere.The man who gives away his life so others can live a little longer.A couple wastes valuable energy,On all of their appliances.But around the world, A man and his cattle die in a flood.A family vacations across the world,And get on their flight,Unaware of the carbon footprint they’re leaving.A woman joins her child and lover in death.These mundane actions,Made by innocent people,All will make people meet their demise.This affects all of us now,But we don’t see the effect of it all,I see a future close by,Where all I know is that it will get worse.Let’s change it now,Before it’s too late.It will get so much worse.

Whispers for Rain By Maddie Kamensky Robert E Bell Middle School 2nd Place in Poetry 2025 Water is life. It is the pulse of our earth. It nourishes our souls, feeding the deep roots of mighty forests. It carves mountains. It makes up rivers— the rivers that have now been swallowed by arid soil. Water is beauty, like liquid gold. It glows and dances elegantly, carrying our dreams and wishes along with it. It gives and provides for us. It has great value, like ancient and forgotten treasure. But what happens when the river runs dry? Leaving behind the bare bones of earth. When we are left with nothing to keep us alive, nothing to nourish us? Without water, we are helpless. Even the stars begin to fade, the wind will cease to blow, and the ocean's waves will no longer lap against the shores. The earth begs for water, and yet no one listens. Flowers will wither, leaving behind only dust, and the once mighty lakes are now craters in the land. The earth is left, thirst-stricken in the sweltering heat of the sun. But what is gold to a thirsty world? Where people walk miles to take a sip, where long showers exist only in distant dreams, where children stand for hours waiting for rain. Their hands tremble and their cracked lips whisper for rain. Yet still, water is wasted. Some use it as they please, letting faucets run forever, using sprinklers that whirl around lush green lawns. But in a world where water is scarce, others would trade their breath just for a sip. We will only realize that we have taken water for granted when the final drop hits our lips

Puppet Show By Fiona Zlotnik Dobbs Ferry Middle School 3rd Place in Fiction 2025 My bright orange rain boots are no match for the endless Rampage of rain splattering on the windows. I roll out of bed dreading the long walk to school where I'm sure to get soaked, even though I love the outdoors I prefer staying dry. But I get out of bed and eat breakfast anyway, pulling on my rain jacket and boots. Sure enough, when I get outside the rain is pounding and by the time I get to school I'm soaked to the bone! Extremely wet and slightly ill-tempered, I sulk into my seat and lay my homework on the desk. Next to me a girl introduces herself. She must be new I think, since I've never seen her before she seems nice but I don't know, I'm pretty shy to be honest. I don't like making friends that much. I like having friends of course, just not making them. Anyways I wave back to the girl just as our teacher starts checking homework, once she's done making corrections to all the homework she begins to say: “hello class I am pleased to announce that we have a new student named Penelope”. She gestures to Penelope and Penelope waves. "In addition, we are also starting a new unit on animals and nature." I perk up a little, I like animals, I have a pet fish and he is pretty awesome. Anyway this unit might be fun! which is saying a lot since I don't usually like this class. “Furthermore to start the day and kick off the new unit.” My teacher continues, “we will be learning about underwater creatures. Each of you will choose a fish mammal or amphibian that lives in our very own Hudson River and research it independently you will then create a project with a partner of my choosing, the project should educate your peers about this animal if you're animal is endangered it should also include ways that students such as yourself can help that animal. Capiche?" she asks. "Kaposh" the class responds in unison then we get to work researching. I chose humpback whales and get to work. I have a lot of research to do since I've absolutely no knowledge of whales or any other under sea creatures, if I wanted to be a vet or maybe a marine biologist. I would have probably known things about whales ahead of time but since I want to be a puppeteer I've never thought to learn about the ocean in my free time. So I began to study. Before the period is over I learn that humpback whales eat Krill, Plankton, and other small fish to get their food they use a clever method called Bubble net feeding. This means that the whales surround schools of fish and make a circle of bubbles around them. Creating the illusion that the fish are trapped in the bubbles even though in reality they could just swim right through them, then the whales eat the fish. Another method is rubbing against the sand to confuse the fish and hinder its eyesight. And then eating it as you can see whales are highly social animals they hunt in groups. Male Humpback whales also make fascinating noises. Low sounds that are almost like singing these noises are so low we cannot hear them without special materials but they are very loud, I feel bad for the humpbacks they are an endangered species because of overfishing pesticides among other things they also get tangled in fishing material and used to be hunted by humans they can communicate with each other flawlessly but they unfortunately cannot talk to humans if they could I imagine they tell them to stop killing them. I sympathize every time I try to tell people to stop or do something else they just don't listen. Like the whales I want to be understood but maybe this project can help both me and the whales and idea starts forming in my mind, don't get too excited I think to myself. After all, for the final project I'll need a partner and they'll probably turn my idea down. I sigh and pack up my things stepping out into the fresh sunlight. It must have stopped raining I think as I walk home slowly savoring the warmth of the sunlight. When I finally get home I take a break from my whale research and practice singing if I want to be a puppeteer I'll also have to sing and I enjoy singing. When I'm done practicing I read about my favorite thing, puppet. I loved puppets since the moment I first watched a puppet show and now I'm starting to love whales as well. The next morning, I stare nervously down at my desk as my teacher starts pairing students up. When she reaches my desk she glances around and then says, “you and Natalie are the only people doing whales you'll have to partner with her”. "Okay” I reply tentatively. The teacher makes sure we have our graphic organizer out. Then she walks back to the front of the classroom, leaving me alone with Natalie. So she asks "do you have any ideas for the project?" I suck in a breath wondering if I should tell her about my idea. What if she tells me it's silly and that we shouldn't do it. I exhale “well I do have an idea but I'm not sure it would work” I say quietly. “Let's hear it” Natalie replies. “Well when I grow up I want to be a puppeteer. I want to do puppet shows and stuff”. Natalie nods, “so I was thinking we could do a show that could tell people about whales and why we shouldn't hurt them”. “That's a great idea” Natalie replies, “but where will we get the puppets from?” "I don't know." I say, happy that Natalie agrees with me but upset at myself for not really thinking my idea through. I start to suggest we do something else instead when Natalie shoots out of her chair. “I have an idea” she says walking over to Ann's desk. “Can you make Puppets” she asks Ann. “Why do you need puppets” Ann asks in a slightly confused tone. “For our projects we're going to do a puppet show but we don't have any puppets and since you're really good at making things I thought I'd ask you to help.” “I'll do it, when do you need me to finish them” Ann replies. “Is a day enough time?” I ask. "Yep a day is fine” Ann says. “Okay meet us after school for the show,” I say. Then, all the sudden Ann’s partner, a boy named Sam says “I can play piano you know if you want piano for the show.” “That would be great,” I reply smiling. Then Penelope says “I can help with the puppets too, if you want help," she offers shooting a look at Ann. “The more the merrier” Ann says happily. “Great” Natalie says “but before we can actually put the show into action we have to run it past our teacher”. My heart sinks, I was sort of getting excited, I mean helping the whales was a good cause and it could be fun to work with my new friends to create a puppet show. But all that could go away if the teacher thinks the project is a bad idea. Still we have to try for the whales, so me and Natalie go tell the teacher about our idea and she thinks that it's a great idea. “When is the show?” she asks. “Tonight” Natalie says. “I'll be there” she replies. Me and Natalie head back to our table and share the news with everyone else. We spend the rest of the day planning the show, and after school, instead of going home we go to the Waterfront. Where the cool air and sea breeze has set a wonderful vibe for the show, and also attracted an audience. It is a nice fall day and many people are having picnics and watching us rehearse. I wonder if they'll enjoy the show. I wonder if it'll Inspire them to help the whales for the first time since I saw my first puppet show. I'm filled with resolution and a sense of belonging, because here I am. Doing a good thing with friends. I hope one day every whale will feel the same way because they are safe and they are free. And fishing nets and climate change and water pollution are no longer threatening them.

Oh, Climate Change, What a Beast You Are By Finlay Albright-Cook Irvington Middle School 1st Place in Poetry 2025 Oh, Climate Change, what a beast you are, All your rampage has created a scar. A destructive titan made by mankind, The treaty of destruction that the humans signed. The world is broken because of you, You have altered the world, yes, that’s true. Icebergs have melted as a result, Launching water like a catapult. Some believe you don’t exist, But they don’t really get the gist. However a lot of evidence suggests, That your behaviour is that of pests. Humans as a race have a lot of work to do, We have to unite, as a committed crew. By switching to electricity instead of gas, Making the world as green as the grass. Species have died as an effect, Countless ecosystems that you love to affect. The world can’t get away from you, close or far, Oh climate change, what a beast you are.

The Beach Club By Charlotte Dolinger Irvington Middle School 2nd Place in Fiction 2025 Mila and I stroll down the endless beach gazing at the crystal clear blue ocean. The palm trees are dancing in the balmy wind and everything is peaceful. I rummage through my bell bottom jean pockets and find a crumpled five dollar bill. We scramble to a nearby snack stand and buy an ice cold Fanta which makes my fingers feel like snowcones and a small bag of Original Lays potato chips. I twist the Fanta cap open and take a refreshing gulp. Mila snatches the Lays out of my hands and gobbles them down like she hasn’t eaten for weeks. She flings the bag on the gritty tan sand. My eyes widen in dismay as I watch the chip bag get carried by a gust of wind into the ocean. I see floating next to the bag a plastic Poland Springs bottle, a shopping bag and a Pepsi can. I stumble back. “Are you ok?” Mila asks, looking at me in confusion. I don’t mention that Mila just threw the bag on the ground, I just keep walking, pretending it didn’t happen. If I told her I cared about her littering, she wouldn’t give it a second thought. At school the next day, my teacher Ms. Barney puts up a slick piece of paper on the bulletin board. “This is the club sheet” she explains, “There is a club for everyone and I do encourage you to sign up for one! You can even make your own club, just write it here on the bulletin board.” My mind quickly flashes back to yesterday when Mila threw the Lays potato chip bag on the beach. I scout around for my pastel pink pencil case. The zipper glides down the pencil case like an ice skater and I pull out a navy blue pen. I write on the club sheet paper, “Beach Clean up Club”. I came home from school that day with a cheery smile on my face. I slide into my kitchen seat and see a round bowl full of jiggly spaghetti and crimson red tomato sauce dripping down the sides of the noodles. “How was your day sweetie?” my mom asks. “We are finally starting club week at school and guess what, I made my own club called the Beach Clean Up Club!” I say with a content tone. “That is so exciting sweetie!” my mom proclaims. I spoon the noodles into my mouth and grab a cup of clear lemonade as the sun hits the glass making it dazzle. I go to bed that night with a beaming smile. I drape the soft sheets over me and wait for tomorrow to finally arrive. The next day at school I check the club sign up sheet. I see twelve people already signed up, but my joyful mood wound down when I saw Mila wasn’t on the signup sheet. I want to teach her that you shouldn’t litter so at lunch I took an available spot next to her. I peered at her lunch box and saw a PB and J sandwich with a side of juicy mango and crunchy carrots. I slowly speak, grabbing her attention, “Hey Mila, umm…have you thought of you know…maybe joining the Beach Clean Up club?” She looks at her watch then glances back up at me. “I don’t know if I have time, I am doing so many clubs,” she says, munching on her carrots. I only saw Mila sign up for one club, the band club, I think to myself. Then I speak to her, building up loads of courage, “Please think about coming, I saw you litter on the beach and my face fell. But…you know if you join in, it would help a lot!” I never talk to my friends with such precision, such undoubtful thoughts. “When does it meet?” she replies. My face lights up. “Today after school” I say, my face hurting from the smile that is as wide as the ocean. “See you there then?” “Yup!” After school I skip down the beach to see thirteen people there for the club, including Mila. I still see loads more trash piled up, like old Target bags, broken Starbucks cups, and Nike Boxes. We get out our metal trash pickers (funded by the school), black gloves, and our crumpled trash bags out of its small roll. Our faces burn from the beaming sun but we want to keep on working, to make the beach look as spotless as a beautiful Caribbean beach with white sand as clear cyan blue water. Towards the end of the meeting, Mila pulls me over with a smile. “After cleaning up the beach today,” she says to me, “I realized that littering is never ok. I wanted to thank you for starting this club, it widened my perspective!” A smile appears on my face and I hug her, “You're welcome, seeing this clean beach makes me want to do this even more!” Then Mila and I stroll down the endless beach. We gaze at the crystal clear blue ocean just like yesterday but this time with trash bags in hand.

One Fish Makes a Difference by Addison Schutzman Irvington Middle School 1st Place in Fiction 2025 I sat there, eyes locked on Gilbert. His blue scales and shiny eyes meant everything to me. I knew most people thought of their fish as decoration, but my relationship with Gilbert was special. He always knew what I wanted even from the closed glass tank. My beautiful sight was interrupted as I jumped to a loud honk noise. “Bye Gilbert!” I yelled as I ran to the car. It was time to go visit Uncle Jim. I dreaded going to Uncle Jim's house to see dead fish cooked for dinner. What people don’t realize is that fish have a life too; everybody does. I thought of my Uncle Jim, how he fished in his free time. I acted as if each new fish he caught was “so cool and awesome”, but no, it wasn’t. Everytime we visited him in Massachusetts I avoided him until today. Today was different. He invited me to go fishing with him on a fun uncle niece bonding trip. I couldn’t, how could I? But of course mom made me go. As we approached the dock I felt horrible. What makes people think that this is okay? I knew I should talk to Uncle Jim. It was just us so he couldn’t get mad, but what if he does? What if he gets so mad at me that doesn’t invite us back? Or even worse, what if he did something to Gilbert? This “bonding time” was killing me. Finally I spoke, “Um Uncle J-” I whispered as my throat closed up, “Uncle Jim?” I finally spit out. “Yeah? Oh wait a sec I think I’m getting a good one!” He cheered as he tried to catch a fish. “NO! STOP!” I’ve had it with him and now the dock was as silent as an empty cemetery. “Sorry for screaming, but can we maybe talk for a sec?” I asked. “Of course” he responded in a reassuring way; he didn’t know what was coming his way. I tried to look confident on the outside, but really my heart was pumping so fast I thought my chest was about to explode. I sat down and closed my eyes. The only thing going through my mind was; Change his mind. Change his mind. Change his mind. I knew I needed to say something but how should I start? “Umm” I mumbled “Sorry for not letting you catch that fish but watching you fish makes me sick to my stomach. I love fish and I really don’t want fishing to affect us and the planet negatively in the future. I know that you may think that you don’t make a huge difference from just you fishing, but you really do. Think of us- your family how much you love us. But now imagine a bigger species kidnapping you and throwing you in the oven so that a family can have a good dinner one night. Uncle Jimmy, that's what you do when you catch a fish.” I paused, was I talking too much, or seeming too deep? Did I sound like a little kid with no clue about anything? “Keep going” I heard him whisper, my confidence was returning. I kept going, “Ya know when too many fish are taken at once the whole food web can crash? When this happens you may never eat your salmon rolls for dinner again! This isn’t really your fault, but whenever we come to visit you I get scared, really scared, because I feel like I’m watching the environment tear apart.” I took a deep breath. “I completely respect what you're saying, but I want you to know that I also do research. I learned that it’s okay for me to fish what I need once in a while. Overfishing on the other hand does wreck the environment. I’m trying to fish less and less but it’s hard to let go of something you love so much.” I was completely shocked. All these years of faking my happiness and never speaking to him were a waste. Although I will never drop my love for the planet and the ocean I feel so much better now. I looked over at him with his dangled legs over the dock. He looked worn out and full of thoughts. As I turned my head he began to talk, “I know that in the future if the environment wrecks I’m going to blame myself for all this fishing. Like you said, one fish makes a big difference.” “I know it does” I responded “but if you learn to fish the right way you can congratulate yourself when the planet doesn't wreck instead.” He smiled. “You know, instead of fishing we can educate people who overfish about how much fishing can hurt our planet. When fish don't reproduce fast enough the whole food web will crash, and lots of humans rely on that food web to live.” “I love how you think” He smiled brightly at me, “How bout we go get some lunch and talk about our game plan.” I was at a loss for words. As we walked to lunch I stood up tall, as if I had just won a gold olympic medal.

Plastic in the Oceans by Sophie Katz Irvington Middle School 3rd Prize in Poetry 2025 Sally sells seashells by the sea but she doesn't anymore after all anyways there is no sea anymore always consumed and convoluted why did nobody stop the pollution. Polarized by passing pain palaces of sand slowly start sneaking away.

A Battle for the Bees Phoebe Johnston Dobbs Ferry Middle School 1st prize in Fiction 2024 Many noble, brave bees can be observed throughout bee-kind history. In 1564 there was Chrysanthemum the Great, conqueror of flowers. Rhododendron in 1633, the pollen provocateur. There was Magnolia, the stamen slayer in 1786. And Dave, in some other time. But out of all of these great bees, the legend of one comes above all. How did she accomplish her grand feat, you ask? By throwing pollen in the eyes of her enemies. It resulted in some serious cases of pink eye along with a few lawsuits. There are so, so many animals in our world that are ruthlessly abused, killed, and forced from their forests and rivers. But that list goes on and on. So let’s start small. Let’s start with the bees. Sunshine wafted through windows, illuminating rows and rows of shining hexagons along the inner walls of the hive where bees slept in their cubbies. Spring was upon the hive and the scent of pollen was in the air. Everything was peaceful… Until it wasn’t. A power hose sprayed poison on Dandelions, held by a sweaty man in a green shirt. The racket awoke the bees with a start, clambering over one another though the hive entrance. “Someone get the queen!” they buzzed. “My busy bees!” the queen buzzed from her royal cubby. “Evacuate the children! Attack the sweaty green human! Defend our hive!!!” The bees cheered. Sleep-groggy warrior bees lined up and marched bravely out to the field. “No bee left behind! No bee left behind!” they chanted. Worker bees went to work, helping evacuate the younglings. And the mariachi band bees played some sweet tunes. Hey, everyone has their thing. Especially Daffodil. She wasn’t a warrior bee. Or a worker bee. She wasn’t even a mariachi band bee! What’s the point if you can’t charge into battle with your stinger and your shield? Or spread pollen and joy everywhere? Or even play some sweet tunes??? Well, I’ll tell you what her point was. To be a news reporter bee. “What was the first thing that happened during the encounter?” Daffodil hovered over a tree branch, pen and paper in hand. She was interviewing a burly ground hornet named Lilac who had been guarding the hive before the human came. “Well at first, everything was normal,” Lilac began. “The bees were all in their cubbies sleeping, when suddenly I heard a hose! A sweaty green human was trying to poison flowers in the hive field; land owned by their queen!” she buzzed angrily. (Hornets are very respectful of territory. If you don’t knock before coming into their hive, you’ll get stung.) “Why do you think a human might do that?” Daffodil fumbled with her pen excitedly. Lilac shook her head and sighed. “I’ve heard buzz about a ‘landscaper’ coming to town. Or at least that’s what they call themselves. But they’re really just bee killers! Poisoning flowers that us bees like…” “Wait, poisoning flowers? To kill bees?” The chainsaw was enough, but this was outrageous! Perfect for a good article! “Not exactly. See, humans get real protective over their gardens. So when they see a tiny weed, they call up these other humans to get rid of ‘em. The only problem is that the weeds they don’t like are the flowers we pollinate and feed our young with. They end up poisoning us! You guys are lucky you could use your pollen as a weapon to scare ‘em off, but they’re not gone for good. Although for now, I’d just worry about your flowers.” Daffodil sat at her desk looking over all of the information she had. She had spent hours researching this big, bad gardening company that employed the green human. The head owner’s name was Lucifer Maxwell and their company name was Green and Clean. (Which was false advertising. Daffodil could use that against them.) But most importantly, their main company building was located in Ardsley village, which Daffodil found was short of a mile or two from her hive. By herself, the journey would be impossible. But luckily, she had convinced her queen, Elizabeth (-not the British one-), to send the hive’s troops along. Along with the mariachi band bees, of course. (You never know when those guys might come in handy.) The plan was to invade the building, wreak havoc, and lastly, to force the company into retreat for the better of bee-kind eternally! They had flown a whole two miles from the hive to the Green and Clean building. They came in through the air vents and open windows. They knocked over coffee dispensers and desks. They swarmed workers and dropped a mechanical pencil on some dude’s head. All in hopes that the army could cause a distraction for Daffodil to get to the top floor. To Mr. Maxwell himself. Daffodil marched up to the very important looking glass doors of a very important looking conference room. She went right up to them, and bravely… knocked and patiently waited to be allowed in. (What? Maybe people were like hornets.) A woman with a tight bun opened the door for her. “Mr. Maxwell!” Daffodil called out, buzzing over to the head of the table. Lucifer looked up from a notepad and smiled kindly. “We have you surrounded! Surrender your company!!!” “Please, little Honey Bee, calm down. I wouldn’t want you to think your attack is worth more than a pebble or two. You don’t know what I mean? What, did you think that you would march on in here and declare war? That you could tip over coffee dispensers, or steal pencils and take down a company as large as us? We don’t need our fancy buildings and a few computers. We have our reputation and our money! We’re selling pesticides all over the world! We are more powerful than any human who’s tried to chop down your little tree, or throw rocks at your tiny hive. So head back to your little life where you won’t have to be anything more than an insignificant pollinator.” He went back to writing on his notepad. Daffodil’s heart sank. Those last words stung more than a hornet’s sting. Was that all this was? Insignificant? Was that all she was??? Maybe it was time to go home. No use fighting a losing battle. She would never get this piece published. But wait- that’s where she was wrong. She didn’t just need her story published. Even if it had been her dream her whole life. It wasn’t just about her either. This battle she was fighting was for the bees. It was for the sake of the lives of millions of insect pollinators. And maybe they were just pollinators. But Daffodil was going to show Mr. Maxwell just how insignificant they were… As Daffodil neared the glass doors, she heard a faint tapping in the air vents above. It was code. Reinforcements were there! She buzzed quietly in return. She told them her grand plan, hoping her message didn’t catch the ear of Mr. Maxwell. She stopped at the glass doorway and took the deepest breath her little insect lungs could take before shouting with volume that no one else would bee able to take. “CHARGE!!!” Bees came through the vents. Pollen was thrown. Humans were sent running for the elevator. Bees took over computers, hacking into the company’s bank account. Lucifer shouted, his face red as pork. Millions of dollars were lost. As he stood in shock, Daffodil approached Lucifer. “Wow. All you need is your ‘reputation and money’? Unless I’m mistaken, being robbed of millions of dollars by some insignificant pollinators loses you both of those things. So, Lucifer… Give up your company. Your buildings, products, workers, your mechanical pencils. Everything.” Stung by Dafodil’s words, a look of defeat spread across Lucifer Maxwell’s pudgy face. And Daffodil knew she had won her battle. If wildlife all over the world are getting forced out of their homes and killed every day, how many bees will be left to brighten up a field or simply put some honey in someone’s coffee cup? It’s a small comparison to animals all around the entire planet. But it’s not an insignificant one. And it’s not just bees. We’ve taken the wildlife that is our life for granted for far too long. It’s time to stop taking things from it.