Submissions are closed for this year. A winner and an honorable mention were chosen for each age division in the categories of writing and visual art.

All submissions are on display at Portsmouth Historical Society, but you can also see and read them below!

2025 Winners

Ages 7–10

Ages 11-14

Ages 15–18

Creative Writing

Gabriella C.
What Lies Beyond the Creek
Winner, Writing
11-14 years old
Inspired by Whose Woods These Are by Jane Copp

The forest was calm. The water in the creek flowed peacefully, the birds chirping on occasion. The trees have all blossomed, blocking the distant view of the busy street. For once I was able to think, soak in nature and take a deep breath, letting the moist spring air fill my lungs. The creek creates a break in the trees, allowing sun rays to light up the water, giving me a glance at the forest’s true beauty. The stones have history, through years of being delicately weathered, and carved by the world around it, they hold a purpose by directing which way the streams trickle down, or what path a passing fox takes to reach the other side. 

My head was quiet, I was able to rest without worrying about every little trembling bush or a small rock moving towards me down the creek. But then a loud plane flew by reminding me I’m only in a small oasis surrounded by a never ending desert that is our world. It only takes that little reminder of reality to make my muscles tighten and turn my brain back on. The voice in my head started talking, the rock I’m sitting on began to hurt, even the bumble bee floating from flower to flower startled me. 

Suddenly a splash in the creek put my worries on hold. The small ray of sun only lit up about ten feet in front of me, leading to a void of darkness beyond the light. I sat up from my perch on the rock and headed toward the splashing. My feet clung to the rocks, holding onto the firm texture of nature. As I got closer, the branches blocked the warm sun making it darker with each step forward. It took a moment, but as my eyes adjusted I could see much further than on the other side of the creek. With each second my vision became clearer. I could now see each of the delicate leaves blowing gently in the breeze and the dew drops sliding off of them. 

My feet were now fully under the shallow water, feeling the soil beneath me. I paused for a second, realizing the splashing had stopped. The only noise was a peculiar toad croaking beside me on a short stick floating around the water. Just then, a couple drops of water splashed my leg, causing the water to ripple against me. I jerked my head towards the splash. A fallen log sat at the edge of the creek, held in place by the trees around it. I breathed as quiet as I could, trying not to scare whatever was lurking. I stepped closer. The earthy smell of the forest growing stronger as I inched towards it. The trees in this part were small, having likely sprouted just a few summers ago. 

The branches shook the slightest bit. I reached in my pocket, navigating my fingers through the fabric until I found a small camera I had stored there, just in case. I pulled the camera out, angling it towards the noise. I pressed a button. The dark trees became bright, but only in the small yellow light my camera was capable of. The bush crinkled again. I pointed my camera towards it. I stood there for a second, squinting my eyes, adjusting the light, waiting for the inevitable. 

Out of nowhere a dash of brown fur flew towards me. It went just over my shoulder, startling me into nearly dropping my camera. I quickly turned around, afraid of what I would see. The creature landed in the water, skirting to a stop and splashing droplets behind it. Its head faced me, eyes twitching uncontrollably. It was similar to the shape of a pet rabbit but had small antlers just a shade darker than its fur. It was small, no larger than a stone back in the sunlit part of the creek. It had dark bat-like ears, partially bitten off, and a huge scar across its face. The creature’s claws inched closer to me, which seemed to be getting deadlier the more I stared at them. Its front legs were short and stubby, while the back legs were slightly longer to high jump in order to attack its prey– which just so happened to be me. The creature’s claws were now scratching at the sand, preparing to leap. 

Then it did. 

Its claws extended as it flung towards my face. I took a photo. I leaned back. I saw it fly over my head. Its short legs flung through the air. I fell. The cold water hit me. I felt fur. I whipped around, seeing only a glimpse of it dashing into the depths of the forest. 

I stood up. My clothes were now soaked in muddy creek water. I tried my best to wipe it off but my natural instincts kicked in after a few seconds, forcing me to run back to the light. What was that? I thought, looking back every so often. Once I made it to the warm sunlight, I checked the camera. On the little screen was a monster– Clear as day, seconds from hitting my face. My heart skipped a beat, knowing that whatever it was, is still lurking, Waiting for its next victim.

River M.
The Adventures of Danny and Croaker
Honorable Mention, Writing
11-14 years old
Inspired by Danny and Croaker by Cabot Lyford

Danny and Croaker became best friends when they met at The Goat, drinking whiskey (Or ginger ale) and instantly bonded over their love of $.25 wings and trivia night. They bonded together so well that Croaker asked “do you want to go on an adventure?” And Danny said “YES, YES, YES!” So they hopped on a boat and sailed over to Badger’s Island.

While they were on the boat, they found a small snack bar, bought some chips, and a package of gummies. Danny ate the chips and Croaker had the gummies because he said sugar makes him “think faster.”

When they got to Badger’s Island, they saw a sign that said, “Find the Treasure of Badger’s Island!” Croaker and Danny looked at each other excitedly and Danny said “let’s gooooooooo!” and they ran off to try to find the treasure. 

They looked all around Badger’s Island and everywhere they could imagine. They looked under rocks and around the shoreline but after a few hours, they were getting discouraged. Danny said “I think this was a prank, Croaker” but Croaker didn’t think so. They kept looking and they found some smaller items like a lobster claw and a tin can that Danny threw away because… ew… no one wants a tin can. But, sadly, still no treasure.

Danny and Croaker decided to look around Badger’s Island one more time. They looked everywhere they could. Finally, there it was, a huge treasure chest in a big tree! Croaker jumped on Danny’s back to get the chest down. Once they retrieved the chest, Danny opened it. There were lots of gold coins and coupons for free ice cream!

Danny and Croaker started dancing around with happiness. Then, before anyone could see what they found, they grabbed their chest and sailed back home to the Portsmouth Historical Society. And ate lots and lots of ice cream, of course!

Isabella L.
The Sound of Summer
Winner, Writing
15-18 years old
Inspired by A Man Alone by Cabot Lyford

A high-pitched buzz fills the hot air
Only in the summertime does this noise fill my ears
Do you hear what I hear?

I ask my friend
They nod, very sincere
“Loud and clear.” 

This noise tells me that summer is here
Where does it come from?
It is not clear
from which I hear
The buzzing that is near

My friend cannot put a finger on it
And neither can I
Is this noise just simply
All in my mind? 

But no
It can’t be
My friend heard it too
But oh, there it is
Again it looms

A high-pitched buzz fills the hot air

Our Young Artists Contest will be open next April with our 2026 Exhibition!