Four seniors at Salem Community High School, stepped into the world of writing by stepping outside their comfort zones. Miley Chitwood, Miranda Dailey, Laci Harrell, and Atiana Pitty were each invited by their English teacher, Mrs. Valdez, to take part in a unique project: crafting 100-word mysteries for publication in an anthology. The assignment was both simple and daunting—tell a complete, compelling story in the space of a single paragraph. To put that into perspective, this paragraph consists of exactly one hundred words. Imagine an entire mystery playing out in the time it took you to read it.

Each of them had stared down a blank page before. But this challenge felt different. The thought of their words leaving the safety of the classroom and being printed for anyone to read carried weight. “It was scary because if it got put in there, anybody could read it,” Laci admitted. “But also, if it got put in there, I knew it was worthy to be in there.” That tension—between fear and validation—was the first lesson they absorbed: putting art into the world requires courage.

Miranda chose to explore a mysterious house that seemed to claim the lives of its buyers, forcing readers to wonder whether the curse was supernatural or psychological. Laci, an admitted overachiever, leaned into her love of suspense, crafting eerie search-and-rescue scenarios that left readers unsettled about what lurked just beyond the edges of her story. Atiana went historical, imagining a Victorian-era poisoned dress that became a vehicle for vengeance. Miley, meanwhile, built a detective narrative that ended with an ambiguous smile, daring readers to wrestle with the idea that guilt isn’t always neatly assigned.

The results revealed not just talent but distinct creative fingerprints.  None of the stories sounded alike, yet together they reflected the diversity of thought Mrs. Valdez had hoped to unlock. “She doesn’t really conform,” Miranda said of their teacher. “She’s passionate and makes you want to do more.” For Atiana, who has had Valdez as a homeroom teacher all four years, that consistency has been a source of stability: “You can tell she really cares about everybody.”

Valdez doesn’t just hand out writing prompts; she creates an environment where risk feels safe. Her classes weave poetry, memoir, mystery, and even flash fiction into the curriculum, giving students a chance to try on different voices until they discover one that fits. The anthology project was a natural extension of that philosophy. “She pushes us but also makes us feel like we can succeed,” Miley said.

The act of publication changed how the students saw themselves. Words that might once have stayed trapped in notebooks were suddenly out in the world, permanent and public. It wasn’t just about being creative—it was about claiming a voice. “It made me realize writing can actually make an impact,” Atiana reflected. “It’s not just an assignment. It’s a way to be heard.”

Their paths beyond high school vary widely. Atiana is planning a career in nursing, inspired by a desire to care for others. Laci intends to pursue pre-veterinary studies with the dream of working with exotic animals. Miranda hopes to follow a more hands-on path through welding or dressmaking, combining craft with creativity. Miley, who has found joy in the kitchen, is looking at culinary arts, beginning with studies at Kaskaskia College. Different futures, different directions—but each bound by the shared lesson that creativity and risk go hand in hand.

Channeling an earlier discussion for another story I’d just had with Craig Viera, who helps out with the Girls Golf team, I observe that writing is a little like golf, in as much as it’s mental as well as mechanical. It requires resilience, self-belief, and the willingness to start again when something doesn’t land. As Laci put it bluntly: “You can’t get anywhere without risk.”

For Salem Community High School, the project underscored the importance of nurturing creativity alongside academics, athletics, and service. The girls’ stories didn’t just fill the pages of an anthology; they stood as proof that young people are capable of depth, originality, and bravery when given the chance.

In the end, the four seniors discovered that the act of writing wasn’t just about finishing a story in 100 words. It was about beginning to see themselves differently—capable of taking chances, expressing unique perspectives, and stepping boldly into the unknown.

And that may be the greatest mystery of all: how something so small—just a paragraph—can unlock something so big.