Block · one region of the page, as the scanner read it. It may hold a whole story, part of one, several, or an advertisement; stitching blocks into articles is the next step. Text is supplied OCR.
Page 11 · column 5 of 6 · from the scan, no model involved

look like she had “accidentally fallen”. The police swallowed that story, and Sam had handed Joseph over to the state asylum.
The fire was sputtering low now. and Sam hurried to refuel it. He didn’t feel like reading now, so he turned on his television and went to make himself a scotch.
The reporter was saying, “They’re still searching for the man that escaped from the Wisconsin State Asylum, Joseph Warner, and now the weather with...”
Sam froze. The bottle of scotch smashed to the floor
The fire had gone out, and the wind was howling in the chimney, mocking, shrieking, “Sam, Clara, Sam, Clara, Sam killed Clara, Joseph, Joseph!”
Strange, lurid fires burned in Sam’s eyes. He screamed, “You’ll never get me. I’ll escape!”
With that he grabbed his hat, coat and car keys and ran to the landing. In his haste, he stumbled and saw the steps coming' up at him. He tumbled "down, all th£ tftWviV the stafrc&fce to land at the bottom, flopping with a broken back; then he lay still.
No sound filled the mansion except slow, mocking laughter.
Second Place-*The Dare of Death” By Justin Harrell, Grade 5:One cold day around the middle of October, a fourth grader named Joe was chatting with some friends about a diabolical old man who was now dead and buried in a nearby cemetery.
“That guy gives me the creeps,” said one boy in a shaky tone.
“Yeah, every time I come near that cemetery I feel like I swallowed a couple of butterflies,” added another.
“He doesn’t scare me. I walk past there every day and I don’t feel any different,” Joe boasted.
“I dare you to go and sit on his grave,” said one of the boys named Stephen.
“I’ll do more than that. I’ll go there at midnight, stab his grave, and leave the knife in it just to prove I was there,” he said.
Midnight that night, he got his pocket knife, put on his coat and quietly left the dark house. On the way to the cemetery, the trees looked like they were macabre faces to him. When he got to the grim cemetery, he looked for the old man’s eerie grave. When he found it, he sat down, took out his rigid weapon and thrust it into the bleak tomb.
“There,” he said to himself, and was about to leave when he noticed he
84.8%