The Hall of Stories
By Megan Tran, YWA member 2026
While newcomers traverse through the campus of Inspire Kids 2 Write Academy, many are mesmerized by the dazzling building that stands as the archive and library. Upon entering, the fresh scent of petrichor fills their lungs, with the large sign, “The Hall of Stories,” inviting them to explore further into the several adventures the shelves hold.
In the center, an embroidered rug shares the message, “Every story Inspires. Every writer Matters.” Alongside every open wall and archway, similar slogans of wisdom are adorned throughout to bring motivation to all that walk inside. Running through every inch of the wooden architecture, soft and warm lights brighten each space to create the perfect reading nook wherever the writers choose to lie at. On the floor, several pillows lay as extra comfort and support for those that wish for a communal setting to share out favorite finds or new discoveries. For the individual visitors, several lounges with fabrics of deep indigo and intense verdigris are available to seek tranquility in, all while bearing a book in hand. At every major walkway, the circletop designed windows pour the beaming rays of light across each section of the library, warming the minds and objects within.
Encased in endless rows, the hardcovers that reside on the layers of the shelves invite readers to take a look at what they have to offer, whether it be from a time of old or new. Although many novels are currently provided, the vast collection of paperbacks are constantly expanding, with a clean, empty shelf awaiting for more to be added. When the time comes for the archive to expand, the walls grow another layer of complexity and wonder—exactly how we as learners do.
From past years of fireflies and students, every type of story, competition, and previous work can be found within the pages of time and effort. Since the beginning of the academy, these pieces of writing have lasted and been memorialized into the very essence of the campus library, proving that the community built over the course of ages has been inscribed into the core fundamentals of the way students create. Though the reason for forming words into worlds may differ for every person, the fact that some retired peers are successful authors of awe-inspiring, winning works displays the type of writer each student will become.
At the 2025 Scholastic competition section, Darin Tran initiates the beginning of the tour, with his Regional Silver-Key flash fiction, to guide confused newcomers towards the clarity they require to build intricate stories that enamor the reader(s). Using his skills of great detail and precision in mood and plot, he writes about a secluded teenager, named Phoenix, that finds out the person who comes to his home is not his father.
Inspired by a previous story, Darin was challenged to participate in a category he was hesitant about by Ms. Moyano, where he had to write a suspense story to make the other ones she has read cower in inferiority.
An excerpt from “The Liberated Prisoner” by Darin Tran, winner of Scholastic Art & Writing Competition Silver Key 2025
On the top of the stairs, I press my ear onto the door, listening to the thing outside. I pray that it is Griffin, but it remains unlikely. He doesn’t make loud footsteps. Looking down, I see the shadow of the thing under my feet through the slit. Tap, tap, tap, I hear from the door slowly. All I hear afterward is my heartbeat speeding up. This thing was no Griffin. No person. No. They might be, no, they are, a monster,
In the poetry division, Megan Tran brings over a Regional Silver-Key piece about the unknown journey of life and the various limitations each person has the capability to surpass, using mathematics as a metaphor throughout.
An excerpt from “Life = Unknown” winner of Scholastic Art & Writing Competition Silver Key 2026
Factor hobbies by 7
Subtract friends by 3
Fix radical denominators
Model after parent f(x)
Until ≈ similar
Expecting an A+
While there are numerous winners in the group, the group acknowledges that none of the pieces that have displayed such raw emotion can be done without the type of improvement he showcases. This flash fiction entails a girl in the process of breaking up with her boyfriend, yet when it actually comes to that, he refuses to admit all the mistakes he made. From a warm up prompt, Glow pulled the idea of someone making a mistake and refusing to admit it, with the addition of an emotionally detached tone.
An excerpt from “Residue” Shreyas Ray, Scholastic Art & Writing Competition submission 2026
Just before he left, his eyes scanned over me with a false sense of pity. I sat there quietly, while tears began to swell up in my eyes. Quickly, I wiped them away, hoping no one would see. He stared at me as if I was a stain on a perfect marble countertop, or a nick on flawless skin. His eyes told me everything I needed to know, my presence was minor, yet somehow still inconvenient. It struck me then that I was never special to him, there was no grief in him at all, at least for me. To him, I was nothing but another surface to keep clean, another wound to cover, another of the many things in his world to be discarded after they became unnecessary.
He said it ended cleanly.
Only because he never had to clean up after himself.
Traversing through the contrasting genres of deep world building to topics that are more relatable, Katelyn Nguyen introduces the readers to a window of their own life experiences, teaching that grief and the emotions humans feel can be both bittersweet and warming to those that connect with similar aches. This personal piece was written in honor of Katelyn’s late grandmother and the memories she had associated with her apartment.
An excerpt from “White Fur Through the Lens of a Bereft Soul” by Katelyn Nguyen, Scholastic Art & Writing Competition submission 2026
Sprinting through gravel pathways, I felt as if I was one with the wind; a turbulent hurricane slamming open the door of Apartment 108. My steps into the room were tender and gentle, like I was afraid of disturbing a moment. While the lack of noise uneased me, familiar faces of relatives, some sniffling and choking out a few sobs, stared solemnly at one center in the room. On the hospital bed, my grandma lay still as a mannequin. An expression of eternal relaxation and nirvana rested on her face, slightly tugging up the corners of her mouth despite all of the pain she endured. Relating to an inanimate object felt dehumanizing, but the ambulance and I did have one thing in common; we both came too late for her.
Of course, there are those that are able to use the two feats of relatability and world building interchangeably, like Jennifer Ho, who describes every setting with perfection to reel the audience in, incorporating only a few sentences to grasp their attention. This story follows a narrator who insists that the crack in their bathroom mirror has always been there, convincing themselves that it is simply a normal part of the mirror rather than the result of their own actions.
Through the narrator’s growing discomfort around the mirror, the story explores themes of guilt, denial, accountability, and the lengths people go to avoid confronting their own faults.
An excerpt from Fault Lines by Jennifer Ho, Scholastic Art & Writing Competition submission 2026
Yet, there were moments when my body acted with a will of its own, betraying the careful boundaries I had set. Without conscious intent, my hand would drift, drawn by an unseen force, until my fingertip rested upon the forbidden split. It wasn’t sharp, not in the conventional sense, but neither was it smooth. Instead, it possessed a subtle texture, a faint roughness of a poorly healed scar. Curious, I would trace its winding course, fascinated as my reflection contorted in response. My eye elongated, my mouth skewed, and a knot of unease formed in my chest. It was like gazing upon an alternate version of myself, a distorted doppelganger that existed just beyond the realm of familiarity.
As the group of travelers gather around in a circle to possibly hear any lasting drops of Jennifer’s description, the excerpt is cut off, leaving them to crave for more. From that point, Aimee Duong takes charge with large eyes ablaze to share out her Regional Gold-Key personal narrative, leaving the readers lit by a passionate fire of fight and perseverance for witnessing a part of their self-discovery.
An excerpt from Lipstick on a Pig by Aimee Duong, winner of Scholastic Art & Writing Competition Gold Key 2026
A Change
After that haircut fiasco, I understood the message that was being transferred to me; it was going to be quite a long ride before they’d even try to accept who I am. Attempting to change myself was just going to make it worse, and the burdens would eventually crush these silly ideas. As the school year went on, 7th grade was going to end soon, and the subtle notes of disappointment in my family’s eyes were too much to carry–they’d done so much to help me grow into their ideal girl, and they were so close. I couldn’t possibly disappoint them. It was as if I was forcing a feminine part of me to form at that moment, when I rummaged through my mother’s jewelry box in search of something that would make me resemble somewhat of a girl. I looked like an addict digging for their pills hidden in the depths of their closet. There it was, lying in all its glory, collecting dust over the years I hadn’t worn it–a pair of studded diamond earrings that my grandpa had given me a while back. They were nice, I guess. Next morning, I’d look in the mirror and see an entirely different person from yesterday—at least that’s what I wanted to be.
When the earrings were on, the plaid black skirt flowed as it had once done when I was a child. leggings lay beneath it, and my shirt was neatly tucked in. I made sure to apply a tremendous amount of lip balm that day, to make up for my chapped lips that were constantly bleeding after the number of times I chewed on the skin. I had tried to shape my roughened-up nails and clean up the tattered calluses on the ends of my fingers the night before. Carefully, I shoved whatever was left of my shortened hair behind my ears, making sure my earrings were fully showing. Everything I had done was deliberately prepared to ensure that I’d look like a girl when I got to school today, but when I finally positioned myself in front of the mirror, it was just a tomboy in a skirt staring right back at me. No matter what I did, I couldn’t find myself in that reflection—I was stuck on that never-ending tight-rope of grey.
This time around, I felt ashamed when I tried blending into the crowd of girls. The one time I wanted to fit in, I couldn’t.
Despite the fact that these peers are six unique individuals with their own experiences, they are united by the sheer bond of community and belonging that IK2W Academy provides. Forging their own paths, every student is bound to leave and find themselves along the way, but this building reunites them and their memory together of the lessons they laughed and cried to learn. Though these figures are set to chart unexplored wonders in life, the certainty that their lights will forever be held within this archive is what brings the past, the present, and the future together for every student at this institution. These excerpts are only a snippet of time, for there is a vast collection from years long ago that date all the way to now. Whether it be to obtain inspiration from a previous peer or reflect on the various encounters that each traveler has shared with the world, the connection always starts here. When the time comes for the next set of students to arrive and make their mark in the Hall of Stories, they too will etch their emotions, ideas, and themselves within these very walls.
Inspire Kids 2 Write 