Somewhere in a book called Fright Club — an anthology published by a creative writing organization based in England — are two stories written by Centralia High School freshmen. One follows a man named Dabney who wakes up on a ship with no memory of how he got there, and gradually realizes he is not alone. The other follows a young couple escaping a loud homecoming dance, finding a quiet place upstairs, and then arriving at a moment of horror when the young man goes silent and still. Both stories are exactly 100 words long. Both were written in October, in Mrs. Arning's freshman English class. Both are now in print.

Jesiah Jackson and Haylie Bowen-Holtgrefe are freshmen at Centralia High School, and this past fall, they were among roughly ten classmates who entered the Young Writers Creative Writing Contest — a national competition, open to student writers across the country, with a submission requirement of a horror story in 100 words or fewer. Participating was voluntary. Both of them chose to do it, both made it into the published anthology, and both are still waiting for their Amazon gift cards. The prize structure runs from a trophy for first place down through $50 cards for second and third, and $10 cards for the places below that. Neither Jesiah nor Haylie knows exactly where they finished — the full results hadn't come through at the time of this interview. They're hoping for the good gift cards.

The stories themselves reveal two different instincts as writers. Jesiah built outward, inventing a creature called the Anooy — his own made-up word — and anchoring the horror in paralysis, in a character so terrified he literally cannot move when he encounters something he can't understand. Haylie built inward, setting her story at a familiar place — a homecoming dance — and delivering her horror through quiet intimacy. The moment her character realizes something is wrong isn't loud or dramatic. It's a hand falling. A body that's cold. A cliffhanger, in 100 words. "I feel like I could have done a little better if I could have used more words," Haylie says, "but I feel like I did pretty good with it."

Neither of them came to the contest with obvious confidence. Jesiah says he wanted to see if he could produce something worth being proud of. "I wanted to get that accomplished feeling from doing this," he says. Haylie had been told she was a good writer for years, but still needed a push. "At first I was like, I don't think I want to do it," she says. "And Mrs. Arning said, 'I think you'd be really good for it.' And I decided, okay, I'll do it." The teacher's encouragement is what tipped both of them to try. The results made both of them glad they entered.

Haylie has been writing since she was young, though her creative life extends in several directions. She plays trumpet and is in color guard, and she has a long-term interest in eventually marching with Phantom Regiment, the Rockford-based Drum Corps International group that's one of the most decorated in the activity. She wants to work with younger children as a caseworker or therapist and has also considered writing a memoir about her own life, which she describes — straightforwardly, without elaboration — as very interesting. She attended schools in Irvington and Benton before settling in Centralia. She lists band, English, and biology as her favorite subjects.

Jesiah came to Centralia from Robbins, near the Chicago area, completing fourth grade online before transitioning fully into Centralia schools in fifth grade. He plays football, basketball, and runs track. His career ambitions lean toward professional athletics, though he lists math and English as his joint favorite subjects — which, given his story, tracks. He celebrated making the book by clapping for himself and his classmates. He means that literally and with genuine warmth.

What's notable about both of them, beyond the work itself, is the honesty about why they did it. Not because it was assigned. Not entirely because it was fun. Because they wanted to know if they were good enough — and discovered, at fourteen, that a publisher in another country thought they were worth including in a book alongside student writers from across the country. Most people go their whole lives without being published. These two managed it in their first semester of high school. The gift cards, whenever they arrive, will be a nice bonus. The byline already exists.