Create Real Impact Contest

Impact Teen Drivers created the Create Real Impact Contest to ask young drivers, ages 14-22, to show how they would talk about the very real problem of distracted driving.

Teens and young adults enter to win cash and prizes by showcasing art, music, video and creative writing to address reckless and distracted driving and solve the problem. It's that simple. This unique opportunity allows for a safe and expressive platform to speak out and create real impact. In 2011, over 100,000 votes were cast on over 2,000 submitted entries - all with a network of friends, loved ones, and young drivers raising their awareness to stop this behavior.

The Spring 2015 contest is beginning soon!

February 9: Spring contest begins
April 10: Last day for entries
April 11 - 18th: Voting Period
April 21st - 24th: Winner's Announced

Visit createrealimpact.com for more.

Past Winners

Artwork

Accidents Bite by: Phoebe Jarman

Video

You won't hurt their feelings. By: Constancia Malahias

Music

Until It Happens To You By: Bianca Brown

Audio File: 

Download: Click Here



Writing

The Art of Kittens and Muffins By: Slava Butkovich

I can’t believe all of this is happening right now.
Unlock the car.

Everything seems to be falling apart.
Open the door.

I know I failed that English test.
Sit in the seat.

Samantha hasn’t responded to my text yet.
Close the door.

John has been distant lately.
Look into the rearview mirror.

I accidentally killed a cat this morning.
Wipe away the blackened tear stains.

I ran it over with my car; I wasn’t paying attention.
Put the key into the ignition.

Still no texts from Sammi or John.
Turn the key. Hear the engine roar.

I know that Samantha is hiding something from me.
Push down the emergency brake.

I think that John is hiding something from me too.
Put the car in reverse.

My grandmother threatened to kick me out last night.
Back out.

That’s what you get when you finally convince her to be sober.
Go back in drive.

She doesn’t approve of John.
Press on the gas.

She says he’s nothing but trouble.
Just keep driving.

I’m supposed to get my grades up.
A dead cat.

How the heck can I do that when I have to work until midnight every single day?
My dead cat.

I just need a break from it all.
The construction leaves a trail of fresh, dark asphalt.

I hear something.
Press on the gas; you’ll be late for work.

Where is it coming from?
Speed by the deserted bulldozers.

It’s from my pocket.
There is a red stoplight at the bridge. Stop.

I take out my phone.
Still stopped.

A text from Sammi. Finally.
Green means go.

Wait, what?
Get into the right lane.

“I luv u 2, John.”
Turn right onto the interstate.

Now there’s a second text.
Put on the gas.

“umm… wrong #...”
This ends now.

I text back:
“I can’t believe it, you evil” –

I get jolted backwards.
My phone gets ripped out of my hands.

Whoops, forgot my seatbelt.
I am reminded of this when my head smashes against the ceiling.

Where am I?
Why is the front part of my car caved in?

I guess it doesn’t really matter.
I should probably worry about why I can’t feel my entire body.

Did something just snap?
That can’t be good.

I like kittens.
Muffins are good, too.

But why must they always be run over and killed?
The kittens, not the muffins.

Well, at least I don’t have to worry about my English test anymore.
My grandmother won’t have to kick me out.

Where’s my phone?
I should curse out Samantha and John.

Oh, I know what happened now.
I accidentally entered the incoming traffic on the interstate.

Why would I do such a thing?
I guess I was too distracted.

Maybe I should have just cleared my mind of everything before driving.
At least I could have avoided texting and driving.

I feel very warm all of a sudden.
It feels like I’m submerged in a hot swimming pool.

Funny, because it’s actually quite cold outside.
It’s like one of those cheesy, cliché sayings:

“Whenever you feel that the world is chilly,
Just remember that all of the warmth you ever need comes from yourself.”

I wonder if muffins taste better if they’re shaped like kittens.
I guess I’ll never find out.

I wonder if kittens are cuter if they’re shaped like muffins.
Remember the kitten that fit into a beaker?

I think I’m becoming delusional.
I think my heart is stopping, too.

Muffins by any other name would smell as sweet.
Unless some kid runs them over with a car.

The hills are alive with the sound of songs.
They go on dancing their everlasting dance.

The greatest adventure is what lies ahead.
But now I’m dead.

Strange; you would think that death would stop the act of speech.
But I guess that –