You're Write Online Zine
Calling all teens ages 13-17: share your writing in our online zine, You're Write
Anyone from the age of 13 to the age of 17 is welcome to submit short stories, poems, and creative nonfiction via the submission form. We will select and post work on a quarterly basis, with new issues going up in January, April, July, and October. We'll let you know if your work has been selected within a month of your submission date.
 
Please read our submission guidelines before submitting.
 
NEXT ISSUE (Fall) comes out September 22, 2017.
DEADLINE for submissions is September 15, 2017.
 
Please enjoy the selections for our latest issue below.

“And they never thought it could be done,” I thought proudly as I listened to the steady humming of the plane engine behind me. I could just picture the headlines right then: “Amelia Earhart, First Woman Pilot, Flies Again”. I looked out toward the horizon, thinking of how I wouldn't want it any other way right then. The sky was clear and blue, the crystal sea distinguishing its deep turquoise as they met at what seemed, at least to me, the beginning of a new adventure.

I've always loved adventure. Even when I was little, I'd get lost in the woods, chasing some strange little animal I'd never seen before, or end up climbing trees with a skirt and swimming in creeks with all my clothes on. Needless to say, I also ended up in trouble a lot at my granny’s house, since one of my favorite things to do there was climb the roof of her house and swish down it like any other kid does on a slide at the park. I don't know why my granny was mad I didn't act like a normal little girl, but even as an adult now, I just can't resist the call of adventure.

I covered my head with a pillow. "Dad!" I moaned. "Ten more minutes! Please!?"

"Up and at 'em, Sally, Molls," he replied brightly, turning on the overhead light.

I talked, still under the pillow. "I'm pretty sure I've asked you at least twenty times not to call me that. I'm not even named Sally! And I like my first name better."

He kept on grinning. "Sally is easier to say than 'Nadira'."

I peeked at him from beneath the pillow. "You're the one who named me," I reminded. "You could just call me 'Nad' like Mom does."

He shrugged and walked out of my room to wake another unsuspecting child. "Breakfast's in 10," he yelled over his shoulder.

Your back is turned to me as you clean the house. Your attempts at wiping that brown stain off the counter are futile yet you still try every day to remove it. However, the brown stain is not what captures my attention. It is you, scrubbing and scrubbing, trying to get rid of it like you are the knight with shinning suds and the stain is the evil dragon kidnapping the Princess Pristine Counter.

You are so busy playing knight you do not see me standing there, watching you. I want to reach out to you. Make a joke like we used to do so many times before, back when things were easier. I see you attacking that stain and tears prick my eyes.

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