LAMAR PUBLIC LIBRARY This Just In... 2025 The Lamar Public Library is pleased to announce the winners of the 2025 Writing Contest! Youth Short Story Abby Stilson - A Nightmare’s Grasp Youth Essay Julia Khen - I Wonder If Mother Had a Dream, Too Adult Short Story Kiesha Brenner - At Grandma’s Poetry Cristina Holbein - Tight Roping on the Edge of a Knife Adult Essay Cristina Holbein - My Life One Sentence Story Neveah Gomez - Just Laugh Along And the Winners are... Writing Contest
Youth Short Story Abby Stilson
Youth Essay Julia Khen
I Wonder If Mother Had a Dream Too She never told me, not even once, what she wanted to be before she became “Mama.” Not when she tucked me in at night, not while she was folding the laundry with the same care she folded every part of her life, and not even in the silence we shared while cooking side by side. She never said if she once wanted to be a scientist, or a businesswoman, or maybe someone who traveled the world and left her name written across pages or places. But I wonder. I wonder not because I see her life as small, or because I think she ever resented it—no, not at all. She never looked at us like we were a burden. Not even on the hardest days. Her love was never loud, but it was certain. It lived in things like warm meals, clean clothes, the way she always made space for us in a world that often left her very little for herself. Still, I find myself asking, quietly, when the house is still: Did she ever dream of more? Did she once lie awake, imagining a future that didn’t revolve around anyone but herself? Did she ever picture a life that didn’t include early mornings making breakfast or the ache in her back from bending over laundry for hours? I don’t ask what would have happened if she hadn’t met my father. That’s not the point. This life they built together gave me everything. I’m not questioning it. I’m only wondering if there was a version of her that existed before all of this. A version with notebooks filled with plans or a heart set on something the world never gave her room to chase. She finished school. She was smart, capable, kind. The kind of woman who could’ve led companies or discovered something that changed the world. But life had other plans. Life handed her us—and she never hesitated. And maybe that’s what makes it so sacred. Because even if her dreams were folded away, she never let ours fall. She carried us, quietly and completely, so we could dream loudly, without fear. I’ll never know all the things she once hoped for. But I see now that her love was never the absence of dreams. It was the reshaping of them. And somehow, through the life she built, her dreams became mine. And I promise to carry them with care.
Adult Short Story Kiesha Brenner
One Sentence Story Naveah Gomez She told such funny stories, I just wish she’d free me from her basement.
Adult Essay Cristina Holbein
My Beginnings When I was an infant, my parents, Lydia Morales Gutierrez and Rolando Gutierrez, left me in Reynosa, Tamaulipas, Mexico with my grandmother, Juana Morales. At that time, I was named San Juanita Gutierrez after my grandmother. She looked after me until I was nearly 3 years old. My mother, father, and sister Laura went to Orlando, Florida to work at a car manufacturing plant. They brought Laura because she was old enough for school. While in Florida, they were involved in a car accident. Laura was standing in the back seat, talking to our parents without a seatbelt. A semi-truck carrying irrigation pipes slowed down suddenly. Distracted by conversation, my father didn't notice the truck until my mother yelled. Despite his efforts to stop, it was too late. My father slammed on the brakes, swerved, and stopped. He got out, yelling, ran to the passenger side, and kissed my mother, asking if she was okay. She seemed passed out, but he missed something much more alarming. When he looked down, he saw that my mother was impaled by one of the irrigation pipes in the middle of her stomach. He went crazy. He saw the love of his life dead before his very eyes. He felt that it was all his fault. Nobody could do anything to console him. He was admitted into a psychiatric hospital. He forgot everything, including me. What he didn’t know was that his daughter, Laura, was also killed. She was ejected from the car. She was found in pieces. He also forgot about his youngest daughter, me, who was in Mexico, with his mother-in-law. His family attempted to speak with him, but he did not regain his memory until I was two years old. While he was at the psychiatric hospital, his family traveled to Mexico to retrieve me, accompanied by a constable. However, the police informed his family that only my father or mother could take custody of me. Consequently, they departed, and his family consulted my father again, but he still could not recall anything. Eventually, as he began to regain his memory, I was nearly three years old, and he came to pick me up. I was with my grandmother, Uncles Pedro and Poncho, and Aunt Irene. My grandmother considered taking me to Durango, Mexico, to keep me from my father, but my uncles advised against it due to potential legal trouble and disruption to my education. The next day, my father arrived with the police and papers proving I was his. The situation was distressing as I clung to my grandmother. The individual who desired my return was unfamiliar to me. My father, moved by the recollection of our relationship, was in tears. My grandmother expressed her anguish vocally while my uncle's provided reassurance and attempted to calm her. Despite being an infant, there was a notable desire from multiple parties to have me in their care. It raises the question of how one child could be sought after by so many individuals. 1 ______________________________ 1 This is the beginning of my Autobiography. I want to continue researching the facts of my life. I want to show the world that sometimes, bad things happen to good people, but it doesn’t have to define who you are. Sometimes curses can be broken. You just must put the time and effort into breaking the curse or cycle.
Adult Essay Cristina Holbein
Hate Hate is an all consuming Feeling that consumes Your whole entire soul. Hate hurts you like no Other feeling can. Feel the hate as you Hate the person who Hurt you. Feel the hate As your soul burns. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate the feeling more. For you Never come back from that Feeling. It haunts your very Fabric of your being. Hate is To soul as fire is to wood. Hate consumes the soul as Fire consumes the wood. Hate. Hate. Hate. Let it go before it consumes You. Just because you forgive a Person doesn’t mean you Have to forget. Let it go before Your soul is consumed And hurt. Let it go. Let it go. Love Love is the opposite of hate To never find love, is that my fate? Love is work, consuming your time. Is finding love a flip of the dime? Is love for real? Does it really exist? I find myself pounding The wall with my fists. Asking myself if it really exists. Or is it just a made-up word? I find myself not loving my thoughts. Why are my thoughts tied up in knots? I love my children, it’s an unconditional feeling. As I love my children I find my soul healing. I’ll love them to the day I Die. I’ll put my feelings, for all to see, up in the sky. I love you my children, you are my world. Let no one take you away from this world.
Lamar Public Library would like to thank all the participants for their submissions to the 2025 Writing Contest!! Until Next Year….
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