YOUNG VOICES November Winner: Short Story by John Marcos C., 9th Grade, Mineola High School

Congratulations to John Marcos C., a 9th grader at Mineola High School, for being named one of the Young Voices November Winner!
His captivating short story demonstrates remarkable creativity and skill, highlighting the talent and promise of our community’s young writers. Don’t miss the chance to explore John’s unique perspective and storytelling ability in this award-winning piece!

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Upon a prestigious valley, the blooming grass swayed in the wind, splotches of color danced side to side. The morning sun shone upon the sweet beads that littered the fields of green. On a hill was a wooden cabin. Out stepped an old man, tan in color yet black and gray in the hair and brown in the eyes. Out followed his offspring, a young boy with brown eyes and black hair. The old man plunged his silver shovel into the ground, parting the soil. A gentle tick was heard as the old man placed a wrinkled brown seed, a peach seed.

“When will we see the fruit?” The little boy said. He wore a white shirt with a brown dirty tunic. The tunic was held together by stitches and drooped down below his waist. He wore brown baggy clothing with brown scuffed up shoes. The boy was standing on a green valley with his home in the distance. His head looked down with adoring gray eyes. His father who was wearing the same thing as the boy, finished patting the dirt and, looked down at him.

His son leaned against his fathers leg as the father picked up the child and placed him over his neck, the son then leaning forward. The father picked up his shovel and carried it behind his back and walked away. Day by day, the boy ran towards the plot of soil and crouched down, wishing to see something. The father would follow him to the plot and sit beside him. The father would pat his head and put his arm around his back. The boy continued smiling and looking at the plot of soil. The sun settled and raised, then settled and raised. Even when the boy did not see a tree from far, the boy still went to the same spot.

After many days and years, the young man saw how big the tree had grown! Yet the young man continued to look down at the large sprout. Astounded, he ran to his father and told him the news. The father lay on his bed coughing until looking at his child who has grown so tall. The father’s skin was yellow with his eyes being consumed with gray. The father smiled and patted his son on the head before laying his head back. The son grew confused and nudged the father. The father did not respond but only lied there motionless. His final breath lifting into the air and filling the room with silence.

The man went outside with his shovel and dug a deep grave for his father. He placed many vases and many scents with some silver inside. The man buried his father, the ground eroding with his tears. He patted his grave down and placed a ring of stones with a large one to the front of the grave. The man sat down and wept beside the king in blue. The king in blue hugged his side while the man wept. The man then looked up to see in the distance, his pear tree growing tall. It was now visible from the hill it was placed on. The king drew away for a new Life appeared. The man took his shovel and walked towards the hill. The man looked down at the tree, measuring its growth. The man noticed that his tree was drooping to one side and ran back to his house to get sticks.

The man planted his sticks into the ground that held the tree up. The sticks guided the tree upwards before growing to be as tall as the man himself. The man looked forward at the tree and caressed the leaves. The man smiled at his hard work while stroking his beard. The man walked back to his house and picked up his young son. The son was carried into his arms and the man carried him to the tree and the son looked forward in adoration. The father lent his son down and the son crawled towards the tree and gripped the trunk. The father smiled and picked up his son. His son nestled between his arms and the father carried him back home. The father continued to water his plants and watch it grow. The father eventually grew ill and looked at the tree, only starting to sprout the first few buds.

The man grew concerned and scared of his oncoming Death. He watered the plant more than he was used to and cursed at the sun to come up. The man tried to pull on the trunk in order to get it to grow faster. Over the years, the man grew older and his son surpassed him in height. The father wept and was once more greeted by Tragedy. His thought of never seeing his first few peaches dreaded him. From the door that was ajar, the child peeked through to see his father weeping. The child stepped forward towards his father and tugged on his leg. The fathers eyes widened and looked down at his offspring. The father cried while hugging his son, accepting his fate in the process.

The child nuzzled on the man’s shoulder and also teared up. Everyday now, the father taught his child how to water the plant. One day, the father grew ill and lay down on his bed. From the window he saw his son watering the tree the same way he did. The father smiled and saw his own fruit that he bared. The son, when done, went back to his father and hugged him. Day by day, the tree grew more and more until shading his house from the hot sun. The father looked at the tree and opened his eyes, the fruit grew big and bright. The beautiful orange and red colors mesmerized the old man. The man smiled and watched as his son rejoiced in the fruit that his father and grandfather bore. The man watched as his son waved to him with a smile. The man sighed and closed his eyes, Death took his hand and the man smiled knowing that his labor was made for something he loved more than himself.