Congratulations to our middle school authors who have impressed the Scribes’ judging panel, the high school AT Publication course judges, several middle school ELA teachers, and teacher librarians. Criteria included best fit to the genre, meaning, craft and structure, careful revision work, and reader response. Here's a piece by our winner for the flash fiction category, Sabrina P.S.:

April 10, 1912. 

The streets of the seaside town were filled with people. Food vendors sold everything from chocolate to ice cream to savory pies. Well-off men and women rode in horse-drawn carriages filled with suitcases. Short, stout buildings lined every street, housing stores that sold clothes and pastries. Above them, there were apartment flats with window sills that jutted out. Once in a while, a tram would chug down the street, passing telephone booths and streetlamps at every corner. Young boys sold newspapers for a penny apiece, proudly displaying their headlines for all to see. 

Down by the Southampton docks, seagulls mewed and eyed the large nets full of fish that sat beside oysters nestled in crates packed with ice. Fishermen called to one another as they hauled their catch from their boats, many of which were overrun by scurrying rats. The wharf was lined with shabby storage shacks composed of scrap metal haphazardly nailed together. The ships and factories released clouds of grey air that mixed with the stench of fish and smoke, a noxious potion only assuaged by an occasional breeze that carried in the sweet smell of the boulangerie and the salty sea. Families with young children lined up by the pier, waiting to board the ship heading to New York City. Most hefted their large suitcases and duffel bags by themselves while the more fortunate paid porters to move their belongings. 

When all of the bags had been stowed and everyone accounted for, the ship slowly sailed away from the docks. People on board waved to friends and family, bidding them farewell. The further the ship moved away from land, the clearer the skies became; a vibrant shade of blue in between patches of clouds that matched the crystal cerulean of the water. As I stood aboard the deck, I looked out towards the vast, seemingly unending stretch of sea beyond the harbor. Beyond, where opportunities and adventure lay in wait, where social class differences would not matter, and where opportunity would not depend on heritage. As the ship sailed out into the sea, I stayed on the upper deck, leaning over the railing, contemplating my future and watching the waves break against the hull of the RMS Titanic.