Have you cleaned out your room and found an old relic from your younger years? Is there that old photograph collecting dust on the corner table? Have you seen an item in a museum and thought, “Wow, did cavemen use that?”
March 2nd is National Old Stuff Day, so in honor of this national holiday, we are hosting a creative writing competition–with prizes for top winners, to be announced at Shabbaton.
Here’s what you need to know:
Write a 250-word piece from the perspective of an old item or artifact. What do you (the object) think when you’re in use or when you’re sitting around unused? Where do you live? What do you think about the humans–or other creatures–who interact with you? What is your favorite thing to do? Do you have any secrets? What personality do you have that humans don’t realize?
Submit your Artifact Perspective piece by Monday, March 16th.
| Check out the example from our staff writers:
I sit in the closet, waiting for someone to open the door and notice me, but all I do is rust, collecting dust. Once, I was kept in a special case, shown off to friends, and held up with pride. People talked about the player whom I’m modeled after, how he stayed true to his religion. He once even skipped a playoff game for Yom Kippur. I am more than just polyresin; I am a monument to filthy pitching with a curveball that would drop 10-12 inches. But now, I’m just another old toy shoved in a corner, forgotten. I remember the excitement when I was first handed out at the stadium. The kid held me with a big smile, as if I were a treasure. He would tell stories about the player, pretending he was part of the team. I liked that. I liked feeling important. Now the kid is older, and I don’t get taken out anymore. He probably has newer things like video games, phones, and stuff that shines more than I ever could. But I still have meaning. I know that history lives in small things, even when humans stop looking. I wish they remembered that objects carry memories. I don’t need applause or cheers, but I’d like to be seen once in a while. My favorite thing? Just being held or even just looked at for a second, feeling like I matter. I might be old and dusty, but I still represent something: history, effort, and the stories people tell. I’m a piece of the past, our heritage. |
