Running from the silence

2024 7th & 8th Grade Prose Winner

Dear Diary,                                                                         9/14/83
           I found the perfect spot. My plan is set to happen in two days. I won’t be taking you with
me, I’m sorry, I just need a break from all the noise. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, it could
be a day or forever. I live in two worlds, one of silence and the other filled with words; they
swarm around my head but will never escape my mouth. I never make a sound, lurking in the
shadows, never to see the sun. My mom is the opposite, if there's rain, she turns it to rainbows,
and winter to summer. She is a beam of sunshine and nothing can stop her from shining.
Sometimes I wish she would just let the rain come instead of hiding it all away. I know I will
miss her but it's better this way—with me gone. She’ll never have to explain my condition with a
fake grin, concealing her embarrassment. She’ll never have to pick me up after a day of bullying
again. Anyway that's it for now.
        - Jameson Thompson

Dear Diary,                                                                         9/14/83
           Where to even begin, I’m sorry that I haven’t written in a while but my therapist thinks it
will be good for me because...I feel like I failed as a mother. After all, we've been through it
since the loss of my husband, the loss of James' speech and the bullying. My sweet, blond,
scrawny little boy. His hair that shimmers in the sun with gold specks, his eyes that are clear as
ice. It’s a tragedy really. It's gotten especially bad this year, James often locks himself in his
room and won’t come out for hours after therapy. I try to put on a brave face for him but it's
impossible, like dragging your feet through quicksand. After a long day at work, he just stares
up at me like he’s longing to say something but can’t. My hopes lift, hoping to hear the words
“Mom” but they never come and the more I wish, the more devastated I become. I wonder what I
could have done differently, if I caused this. It's the most soul-crushing feeling when you can’t
help your child. I hope things start to look up soon because, to be honest, I’m not sure how much
more I can take.
        - Rebecca

Dear Diary,                                                                         9/15/83
           My favorite memory of my dad is when I was 5 years old, which was only a few days
before he died, he took me to the farmers market. I remember complaining for the entirety of the
trip.
           “Dad, I hate this, take me home, take me home now!” I said to my dad, kicking and
screaming.
           “James, I want to take you somewhere special, you just have to promise me you’ll calm
down, take ten deep breaths.”
           He led me back to the car and we drove for what seemed like forever. When I stepped out
all I saw was an old tree. What was so important about this tree? So I asked him and he said:
           “This tree symbolizes my love for you. Whenever you feel upset, come here and take 10
deep breaths, my love will calm you down.”
          “Okay dad, I love you too,” I said, my heart filled with warmth and unconditional love.
          It was one of the last things I remember him saying to me and the last time I truly
remember speaking.
        - James

Dear Diary,                                                                         9/16/83
           Today is my last entry. You have helped me get through the worst and the best like a
blanket comforting me from the outside world. Now it's time to face the world, one step at a
time. Alone. Forever, never to see the light of day again. I will remain in the shadows, when I
need food I will eat from the scraps on the ground. The world doesn’t understand me and I’m
nowhere near understanding it but I have to figure out how to stay afloat. If I drown there will be
no one to help me. Good bye, Goodbye everyone. Time to move on to the next chapter of my
lonely life.
        - Jameson Thompson

Dear Diary,                                                                         9/16/83
           One hour, where is James? He was supposed to meet me right outside after school for his
therapist appointment. Two hours later, the school hadn't seen him. They said he didn’t show up
this morning. Where could he be? Five hours later, the police have searched the area. No sign of
my beautiful boy. The sun sets and with every minute I sink further into despair. Ten hours later,
no word, no call, no James. Please god, bring him home, please I’m begging.
         - Rebecca

Dear Diary,                                                                         8/10/78
           Today is my 9th birthday, now for some people this might be a celebratory cause but not
for me. My dad used to always tell me whenever it was my birthday that he would take me back
to my favorite spot, the tree. He never got to though and since he’s been gone, I go there
whenever I need a break from everything. When I’m there it makes me feel like he’s there too. I
miss you dad.
         - James

Dear Diary,                                                                         9/17/83
           Imagine this, a mother looking through her missing child’s room. Tearing through paper
after paper, drawer after drawer. Suddenly something falls out, a worn-down blue book. Doesn’t
seem like something out of the ordinary, but inside contains a whole new world. So the mother
reads, she reads until her eyes are red and her brain is tired. When the mother is done reading,
she collapses to the floor in tears. Fear, anger, sadness drowns her. Suddenly an idea, flickering
off and on. Growing brighter and brighter until she runs out the door looking for her son. I am
the mother and I’m going to get my son back.
        - Rebecca

Dear Diary,                                                                         10/17/83
           It’s been a crazy two days, let me tell you how it all went down. I was sitting in my
favorite spot, when suddenly I heard my mom calling out,
          “James! James, are you here? Please come out,” she yelled.
          I climbed out of the tree and walked over to where the sound was coming from. That’s when I
saw her and all the pains in my heart floated away. I sprinted to her and threw myself into her
arms.
          “I missed you so much. Don’t ever scare me like that again!” she screamed, half laughing and
half crying.
          That was the moment I thought to myself, all these years of not speaking because of Dad has
really affected my mom. So I did the unthinkable.
          “Mom,” I whispered, just loud enough for her to hear me. She froze and then cried, squeezing
me so tight I could barely breathe. On the car ride home, it was silent. Not the bad silence that’s
suffocating but the silence where you know everything will be all right. That’s how I feel, that
everything will be all right.