Five Walker’s Students Earn Scholastic Writing Awards

The Scholastic Art and Writing Awards has honored five Walker’s students for their outstanding writing. Nellie Kenney ’25, Sammi Moya ’25, Joon Mulcahy ’26, Poppy Browne ’27, and Victoria Qu ’28 received honors across multiple categories, including science fiction, personal essay, poetry, dramatic script, and short story. We are proud to have such talented writers in our community!

Founded in 1923, the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards have inspired bold ideas in creative teens throughout the country for over 100 years.

Excerpts

Please read below for portions of some of the recognized students’ works.

Nellie Kenney ’25
Delusion
Gold Key, Poetry

Briefly, in the lot behind a movie theater,
in the mirror of a parked SUV, you see yourself:
beautiful and young,

not a daughter from the marriage of matter and energy,
not a product of the bizarre convergence of atoms,
or of sun and frisbees and faulty sprinkler systems
and melted popsicles seeping into the pockets of your palms,
or of parents who set solemn hands on your shoulders,
say don’t try to do two things at once,
or of stress or shame or sorrow.

No. You are a product only of this single, indelible now. 
Tomorrows wait for you, to spill out from this moment
into the great basin of your possibility. 
Reality waits too, fists in her pockets, a tune on her tongue
as you imagine taking those hands from your shoulders,
smiling, saying: I’m not going to do two things at once. 
I’m going to do everything.

Sammi Moya ’25
Echoes of the Past
Silver Key, Science Fiction Story

She pulled her phone from her pocket and switched it on–the stream of light cutting through the shadows like a knife. Slowly, she swept the flashlight across the attic revealing forgotten relics: stacked boxes spilling out with lost family history, chairs and desk left to gather dust, and shapeless objects draped in white sheets. It was everything she expected of an abandoned attic. 

Then, as her light passed over the clutter, something flicked in the corner of her eye: a faint glow. She repositioned her light and finally stepped onto the attic floor, leaving the safety of the ladder behind. A single box, haphazardly closed, emitted a soft light from within, almost as if it recognized her presence.

Sadie froze, her grip on her phone tightened. She stood still, watching the box as its glow illuminated the surrounding walls. Whatever turned on inside the box had been waiting–waiting for someone to open it. For someone to find it.

And now, it had found her. 

Poppy Browne ’27
Stand
Poetry, Honorable Mention

I think war is immature
Why must we let death be the deciding factor
Why must a bomb distort and destroy the bodies of man
When those who chose this fate
Will never feel that embrace

They shall never feel the strike of a gun
Nor the slice of knife
Their heads stay intact
And their hands still pray