Grade 7-8 Winners
HONOURABLE MENTION (GRADE 7-8)
Grace Glosnek (Riding of Perth-Wellington)
The Stars Aligned
The clock struck eleven. It was September 1935. The low-pitched bells rang and bounced sound waves off every edge and crevice of the museum. Rows of lights flickered off one by one in a foreboding, synchronized manner. It was now pitch black and quiet. In that moment, time and space had stopped as little 6-year-old Nova looked around at the exhibits that surrounded her. Knowledge had engulfed her once again, as it always did when she stepped through the grand front entrance of her second home, The New York Museum of Natural History.
It was silent at this late hour, unlike the constant ruckus when visitors and curators weaved in and out of the museum in a constant flow. Now, the only noises were from rain tapping against the many tinted glass windows and taxis honking at one another outside in the heart of the concrete jungle. The air was stuffy and thick and there was an ominous feeling in the museum at night. However, Nova shrugged it off, pushed up her glasses and continued on her way.
She crept down many hallways in her bright yellow, buckled boots attempting not to make a squeak. Nova remained cautious of her every move as she passed first by the new dinosaur exhibit, then the marine biology exhibit with its iconic blue whale dangling midair from flimsy chains, and finally one of Nova’s personal favourites, the extraterrestrial exhibit that unfortunately would be closing soon. As Nova was passing by that very room, a ticking rhythm came from the museum’s large imposing spruce grandfather clock.
Tick, tock. Tickety tock.
The rhythm welcomed her as she entered the room. The room was a chamber of many undiscovered secrets. Now, however, the room was past its glory days as it now resembled an abandoned storage closet. But Nova still loved it for one specific reason, the feeling she got deep within her that allowed her to feel sheltered from the crazy, hectic world. This feeling of security was especially strong when she held a small, grey stone with many rough but rounded edges in the palms of her hand. The stone was a fragment of a fallen star. Nova liked to believe that the stone was from a foreign galaxy especially because of the tiny, unique crystals throughout its grain. There had to be more to the stone. No other artifact conveyed this indescribable energy that was both intangible and undeniable. This stone had to have fallen out of orbit with an intent of something more.
Even though Nova was focussed in her thoughts, she still somehow heard that same old “tick, tock” coming from the clock. She immediately snapped her out of her trance. Nova gently transferred the stone from the palm of her hand into the pocket of her glossy, red slicker and set off on a steady march.
As Nova ventured further into the heart of the museum, a gravitational-like force pulled her towards the museum's core. Its nucleus. Its galactic center. The force knew exactly where Nova was headed. Then almost psychically, Nova heard footsteps from afar in the dry, still air. Nova feared who was coming, the night watchman. He had steady, brisk steps that Nova knew from his daily rounds. As expected, a broad-shouldered figure had arrived. Standing tall, in a commanding tone, he spoke into his walkie-talkie. “Major Tom to ground control, the room’s all clear.” Nova knew where he had just come from as it was where she was headed.
His thumping steps and his merry whistling eventually faded. Nova sighed with relief as she emerged from behind a gazelle diorama. Nova was unable to let go of her scrunched-up facial expression as she grasped how close she had come to getting caught. Nova was getting closer and closer.
Nova came to an unexpected halt at a heavy wooden door emblazoned with the words “In Progress”. As she had done many times before, she pulled out an ID badge attached to a key with a photo of a middle-aged woman with wide, adventurous eyes much like her own. Nova stood up on her tiptoes, reached for the handle and inserted the key. But the brass knob smoothly turned without the need of the key. Why?
Beyond the door, Nova entered a dark room with a visible yet faint circular outline. She then used her key to lock the door behind her. Nova ventured to a complex-looking machine. Having been raised alongside a projector and a telescope, Nova simply flicked a few switches and focused a lens and ticking and rolling sounds filled the room. Nova began breathing heavily. She couldn't believe it. She had done it!
Nova quickly moved towards the center of the dome-like room and closed her eyes as she began counting backwards from ten. At one, she opened her eyes to images of a well-lit sky filled with twinkling stars that flushed the sky. A deep, raspy voice began, “Have you ever wondered how it all began? Life, the earth, the cosmos? Beyond the skies and the stars? Because the further out we look into space, the further back we are looking in time.” Mid speech, an ancient shooting star made its way across the dark, shimmering sky. It then morphed into the image of two stars, one much brighter than the other, orbiting around one another. The reflection of the two stars could be seen perfectly in her eyes. An emotionless expression swept over Nova’s face. She was possessed from the beauty of the great unknown.
After 10 seconds, one star grew brighter until it was blinding. Then, there was a burst of white light which transformed into an abstract, galaxy sky. Pink, purple, blue and green hues swirled and the perfect illusion created even more wonder in Nova’s eyes. Billions of years of the world’s history were hovering in those stars, in that very sky. The colours steadily began disintegrating into the darkness of the heavens above, but its many fragments still floated softly through the sky, as high as it was wide.
The voice carried on, “Each star follows its very own complex system, a binary star system to be exact. Binary stars are two stars that orbit around the same point. When one of the stars, which is a carbon-oxygen white-dwarf star, steals too much matter from its companion star over time, the over accumulation of matter results in an explosion called....” The film cut out abruptly, and the room turned to a pale black. Nova had discovered the last missing piece to her puzzle. At last!
In a jolt, she pushed up off the floor and rushed through the aisles, benches and chairs. She placed the black silk cloth that was over the projector exactly the way she had found it. She then turned left instead of an expected right. With her legs thrusting forward, one in front of the other at light speed, she stopped not in front of the forbidden “In Progress” door, but beside a metal grate releasing a cold, dry draft. She popped the lid right open and didn’t look back.
At the end of the dusty, dark shaft, there hung a sole flickering light. Nova lurched herself forward out of the compact enclosure and twirled her head around. There was just enough light given off by the dim bulb to reveal an enclosed room full of cobwebs, wooden shelves and a checkered tile floor. But that wasn’t all. The walls were plastered in hundreds of sketches of small dots being aligned with fine lines. They were constellations. That’s what they were.
In particular, the four most-beautifully-crafted sketches of them all were hung on a cord of twine that flew diagonally from one end of the room to the other. Each individual paper was attached by a clothespin and each image represented one smaller part of a much bigger picture. The first sketch showed an image of two stars orbiting around an intense orb of energy. The second focused on the one star specifically. It was circular and had pure white rays shooting out of it at every angle. It was evident that the star was dense and powerful. The third image was of the star attempting to latch onto the other. Then disturbingly in the fourth, there was a gruesome image of the larger star sucking the life out of the other as it multiplied in size.
Nova knew her mission was to draw the fifth and final stage. She recited to herself stages one through four in a low, murmured whisper, and then she said the fifth with the word she thought was used. It all made sense to Nova. The explosion of a white dwarf star in a binary star system was a supernova. A supernova was the cosmic rainbow eruption she had just seen just minutes earlier in the sky.
Nova laid down on the floor and sketched in quick, hasty strokes the image she had seen only minutes before. She then rushed out of the storage room and secretly snuck to a window on the first floor. There she slid past the guard into the foggy night, pulled up her hood, placed her sketch underneath her slicker and dashed out of sight. Her next stop, Grand Central Station. Her mission had been completed at the museum.
It was only a short 30-minute ride home from Grand Central Station to the lower east side of town and the 15-story brownstone building that was her home. Unfortunately it was now 12:30 in the morning. Nova had arrived over an hour late. She unhooked the black fire escape ladder to her building and quickly climbed the 100 steps to the top floor. As she had practiced, Nova tugged at the window latch but it wouldn’t budge. Then she saw a dark figure turn the light on in her room.
Nova’s father, Samuel Trowbridge had just woken up, worrying about the next day's events. He was shocked to find a made up but empty bed that was missing a sleeping girl.
Nova entered.
Samuel asked where she had been.
Nova showed her dad the sketch and a look of shock came over him. He knew exactly what the picture was, and although unprepared, especially at this late hour of the night, he had been hoping that nothing like this would occur any time soon. Tired and stressed, Samuel decided to take his young apprentice outside to view the real stars in the sky.
Nova and Samuel ascended a flight of steep stairs from the attic up to the roof. It was now one in the morning and, in the calm and tranquil air, Nova confessed,
“I went to see your and mommy’s project again.”
Samuel smiled a hearty smile.
“Daddy, I’m sorry I didn’t ask you. I’ll never do it again.”
Samuel let out a deep sigh and replied, “It’s okay. Mommy would be proud of you. It was both her and my dream to complete the planetarium. It’s all we ever wanted, of course until you came along. I’m glad you enjoy it just as much as she did. Your presence keeps me close to your mother. Now you and I get to finish what your mother and I started.”
Samuel continued on. “Nova, you have always been special. Your mother and I always wanted to share our passion of the stars with the person we both loved so profoundly, our Nova. That’s also why the first show’s about you, our little supernova. Also, this is why throughout the show’s creation, I would bring you with me. It’s as if our family was being reunited. As you got older, I never told you what that explosion was in the sky, so I thought I’d leave it as a mystery for you to unravel. I knew you’d eventually figure it out.”
Nova was so young and innocent, but she still grasped every single word being said. Nova responded by asking yet another tough question. “So what did happen to mommy?”
Samuel quietly shed a tear. “Your mother passed away when you were only one week old. Money was getting tight and she couldn’t handle the struggles of the world any longer. She always wanted to follow her dreams but sometimes money was too big an obstacle. So one night, sadly, she chose to end her life, to end her struggle. She loved you so dearly Nova and now she’s among the stars.”
The stone Nova held, at first felt warm but now became burning hot. It was a sign. Nova’s mother would always be watching over her.
“So then why did the two of you name me Nova, Daddy?”
Samuel paused.
“Your name is a tribute to your mother. When she passed, you had no name yet so I thought long and hard. Then it dawned on me. At the end of a star’s life, when it runs out of fuel and the core cannot withstand its own gravitational force, it collapses. This is what occurred to your mother, and the collapsing of the star results in a supernova.”
Nova still remained puzzled.
“Your mother's explosion was tragic, but it brought me to a new beautiful watercolor-stained sky. You, my darling Nova.”
Nova was very confused. “But I thought a supernova was caused by…?”
“You’re right. There are two ways” Samuel stated. “But I couldn’t bear to use the real reason. I changed it to lessen my hurt.”
The next day, at the first show, Nova stood behind her famous father, the architect and astronomer Samuel Breck Parkman Trowbridge, who designed the Hayden Planetarium at it’s opening at The New York Museum of Natural History. He delivered a powerful speech on how our children were our only future, and how he hoped that generations to come, such as his daughter Nova, would never give up on chasing their dreams, because if they shoot for the moon, even if they missed, they’d land among the stars.
Nova stood tall on the platform alongside the generous banker who had provided the grant for the planetarium. She looked into the sea of people at the opening and she noticed Major Tom. While glancing in his direction, he shot her a wink and a smile. It was now apparent that the door the night before had not been left open by accident.
Carefully listening to her father’s speech, Nova realised that she was truly inspired to be just like him, and that she would never give up on her dreams. In the following years, Nova Trowbridge would play a big role in some of the Museum's biggest discoveries, such as the first radio-wave emission from the planet Jupiter being received in 1955.
But what mattered even more was that Nova’s memory of her mother would live on in her heart for eternity and the stone in her hand warmed her soul.
The stars had truly aligned.
WINNER (GRADE 7-8)
Anna Noseworthy-Turgeon (Riding of Algoma-Manitoulin)
Waffles on the Screen Door
Sometimes, you hear about disasters that you think will never happen to you. And then, when it does, you are completely unprepared.
The rhythmic pitter-patter-pitter-patter of the drops hitting the roof and the sidewalk was calming, and I was almost falling asleep. It was like being in my own little world, away from people and their beloved pets and computers. This was a place where none of that existed, just me, alone with the rain.
"Ellie! Wake uuup! Earth to Ellie!" "What?" I snapped, annoyed.
"Come on, it's your turn!", my friend Jessi shrieked in that high, shrill voice I found incredibly annoying, but had learned to live with. "Oh! Ummm....", I stammered. I had actually forgotten what we were doing, but I didn't want to admit it to any of my friends. I looked around at them, all sitting in a semicircle in front of me. Talia and Lillian, the twins, had dark brown hair and icy blue eyes that, with one look, could pierce right through you. Larissa had long blonde hair, always in a braid that stretched all the way to her lower back. She, too, had blue eyes, but hers were softer, much like her personality. Jessi had lightish brown hair with purple streaks that she wore in a messy bun, and her brown eyes were shielded by a pair of bright blue glasses she had worn since the age of four.
But despite their differences, they all had one thing in common: they were all looking at me like I was nuts. I thought, frantically, and tried to remember what we had been doing moments before. Think, Ellie, think! Oh.... I almost have it.... Right! Telephone! (Telephone is a game where you whisper something into someone's ear, and they pass it along until the message gets to the end. Then, you see how it has changed) I remembered how, moments before, Talia had whispered some random words in my ear. It sounded a bit like.... "Waffles on the screen door?" My friends all burst out laughing.
Talia and Lillian laughed the exact same way, a muffled snort followed by uncontrollable shaking. Meanwhile, Larissa would just giggle to herself, while Jessi would just let it all out: HA HA HA HA HA! I was getting kind of annoyed now. I looked at the dusty old grandfather clock my mom had inherited from my great-aunt Theresa. (In a way, it kind of resembled her.) The time said 6:31. "Um, guys, don't you have to go now?"
"Oh, yeah!", said Larissa, and she ran to put on her bright yellow rainboots, and everyone else followed. "Bye guys!"
That was when it started to rain harder. Now it was like harsh, pounding footsteps on the roof, instead of the soothing pitter-patter I had heard before. Just as I got up to call my mom, the lights flickered, then shut off completely."Oh noooooo!" I groaned, then flopped on the couch, very much resembling a dead jellyfish."Well, I guess I'm not reading a book.", I said remaining motionless.
Then I heard a weird sound. It sounded like a mix between breaking glass and splitting wood. I sat up quickly and looked around. I felt a slight chill. Then when I turned to look at the front wall, I realized that half of the window was missing! What's more, the road and my front yard were filled with about a foot of water, and the water level was rising quickly. Water and wind started coming through the space where the window used to be at the speed of lightning. Thinking quickly, I ran to my room in the attic of our immense, historic house. Once I was there, I blocked the windows with my mattress, so no broken glass would come flying. I felt like I was preparing for a hurricane, but then again, maybe I was. I grabbed my numerous throw pillows (all different shades of purple and blue) and hid in the corner.
That was when I heard the door open, and Mom shout, "Ellie, come quick!". I ran downstairs, bringing all my beloved throw pillows with me, and saw Mom standing by the kitchen table. Her once perfectly ironed dress that hotel employees were required to wear was soaked, and one of the sleeves was blown right off her shoulder. There were shards of glass stuck in her dress and shoes, and there were a couple rips and holes here and there. Her auburn hair, usually swept into a tight bun, was blown everywhere, and it too, was sopping wet. I could see that there were tears in her jet-green eyes.
"Ellie! The mayor called everyone to the hotel; everyone's homes are flooded and management is letting everyone stay in the upper floors of the Hampton until this crazy storm stops!"
"Well... then I guess we've got to go!" We rushed out of the door and into the car. Right now, I was so glad that we lived at the top of a hill, so we weren't trying to drive through a huge puddle (more like LAKE!) of water. The car was really slow, though, because the tiny wheels had to fight through all that rushing water flowing downhill. On the way to the hotel, I caught a glimpse of all the destruction this storm was causing, and a single tear escaped from my eye.
When we pulled into the parking lot of the Hampton, Mom whispered, "I never thought I'd be coming back to work after hours."
"Oh geez.... Mom, it's okay."
" But Ellie, there's nowhere for me to park!" She was right. It seemed like every single parking space was full, and Mom was almost crying. Then she just gave it all up and parked in the middle of the road. As we climbed out, I could feel the rain beating down on my back, and the wind almost blew me over. We sprinted into the crowded and wet hotel lobby, where an employee wearing the same purple dress as Mom greeted us with a room key.
" Room 435. By the way, you're sharing with the Robertsons. The top floor rooms get filled up first, 2 beds per room, 1 bed per family. OK, good."
"Fantastic!", said Mom enthusiastically. She took the key from the purple-clad employee and we ran up the stairs, not taking the risks of an elevator in a bad storm like this.
When we reached number 435, the sweet perfume of roses wafted out from under the door. It was like finding an oasis in the desert. Mom opened the door, and we walked in. Mrs. Robertson greeted us with a worried smile. "Hi Sherrie, Ellie. Come on in! It's a bit cramped, but we'll have to work with what we've got." Mr. Robertson was sprawled out on the extremely boring, coffee-brown couch, a worried look spread across his face.
The TV was turned to the news channel, where a reporter was describing the storm that was going on right outside our window. "Trees have fallen and knocked down power lines and roofs, streets are flooded, and as far as we can tell so far, there will be much more destruction to houses in the very near future. Currently, most of the residents of Elliot Lake, Ontario are staying in the Hampton Inn due to damage to their homes."
No duh, smartypants! I thought. This reporter was extremely annoying. Mr. Robertson just sighed and turned off the TV. I wasn't sure what he was thinking. "I just want this damn storm to be over!", he said sadly. "I just finished building my new garage, and now the entire roof is caved in." He sighed again, and Mrs. Robertson went to his side, and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, Jeremy. Lives are more valuable than objects," she said lovingly. Mr. Robertson just looked away shamefully.
It seemed like I slept forever. Everything that was going on around me just seemed to hit me and bounce off. I hoped that when I woke up, this whole thing would just be a dream.
I awoke the next morning to Mrs. Robertson's sweet voice in my ears. "Ellie, dear! Wake up! It's time for lunch!"
"Has it stopped?" I grumbled, hoping for good news.
"Not yet, but they're saying the storm will be over by tomorrow," replied Mom. That seemed a good enough answer for me, so I rolled out of bed and pulled on the jeans and t-shirt I wearing the day before. I grabbed my sweater, then Mom, Mr. and Mrs. Robertson, and I walked down to the hotel's kitchen for lunch, which I hoped was crispy lime cilantro wings, my favorite meal. They were actually serving ham sandwiches, but I was hungry, and food was food, so I took it.
After we ate lunch, there was pretty much nothing to do except watch for weather updates, and keep an eye on the rain. So, this was the way I spent my day, sitting at the window, waiting for the storm to stop. Sleep was the only way to escape this dreary, destructive rain.
The next morning, I woke up well before everyone else, and I crept downstairs, quiet as a mouse. As I expected, the ballroom and lobby still had a small layer of water coating the floor, smooth and shiny as glass. I looked outside, and the scene saddened me. It was just like the reporter
had described the day before. I slowly went back upstairs, and into our room. I must have sat on the couch, staring off into space, for several hours.
When Mom woke up, she opened the curtains and smiled from ear to ear. The storm had stopped, though it had left a lot of destruction in its wake, and as soon as she realized this, mom's expression went back to normal: the same expression that had been painted on all of our faces for several days.
As soon as Mr. And Mrs. Robertson awoke, they went down stairs to see the manager. Mom and I awaited the news eagerly, but grimly. As soon as the Robertsons got back to the room, they announced together, "They're letting us out!"
"Oh..." I said. So, there it was. We were being thrown out with no food and destroyed homes. But that was that, so, in the blink of an eye, we had the room looking exactly the way it had before, and we were heading home.
When we got back, the first thing we noticed was that the railings that were supposed to be on the porch were torn off, and lying in the driveway. We walked inside, and everything was a mess. Tables were overturned, glass was shattered, and, to my surprise, the bent- out-of-shape screen door lay on the kitchen floor, with a box of soggy toaster waffles sitting on top of it.
I thought about that game of telephone, only a few days ago. Strange to think that it felt like a lifetime had passed since then. Surprisingly, I started to laugh. You know how they say laughter is contagious? Well, I laughed so hard that Mom started laughing too. We laughed so hard that we fell over. We rolled around on the wet floor, making our clothes soggy too, but we didn't care. It's funny how something so silly could bring light to the darkest situation, but there, laughing with Mom about the strangest thing, waffles on a screen door, was the best feeling I had had in days.