Friday, May 30, 2008

Dusk by Kate D., Age 9

Dusk, is the moonlight fairy that makes the moon rise and fall and helps people fall asleep. Every night Dusk whispers her favorite lullaby that her mother sang to her when she was young. When the moon comes up she goes to the moon and stars and paints them with a shimmering, vanilla bean white paint and then sings, “Hush Little Baby” to help people fall asleep. They hear it in their dreams and soon they are in dream land.

Dusk has ruffled dark-blue wings that flutter through the night sky. She wears a hot-pink dress made of silk and a silver tiara that shimmers in the sun. She smells like fresh bubble gum with a touch of sugar.

Dusk lives in a house in a hollow mushroom that smells like a forest. On the first floor in her kitchen, she has a table and some chairs, a charcoal stove and a peppermint sink. She loves to cook for her family which visits the fourth Tuesday of the month. She always cooks fresh corn on the cob and pot roast.

Her bedroom is chocolate brown and hot pink, which smells like coffee. She has a brown water bed, a pink ruffled lamp and a soft brown and pink side table. On her side table there is a smooth magic globe that shows her family and what they are doing – every fairy gets one. When she says a family member’s name, they pop up out of nowhere.

Dusk used to be a juggler, who wore a big red bow in her hair and a stripped red and white shirt and pants. One day while she was on stage, she heard a big “boo” and she saw who it was and started to cry. Then she ran out of the circus and hid in a pizza parlor that smelled like fresh tomatoes. After she felt a little better, she went to her parent’s house and told them the whole story. Before she became a juggler her parent’s had always wanted her to be the moonlight fairy, and that is how her soon-to-be-new-career had started. Every night when she was young, her mom had sung Dusk her favorite lullaby, “Hush Little Baby”.

When she told her parents what happened at the circus, her mother said now was the time to become the Moonlight Fairy. So she did.

Dusk had to go through extensive training and finally did it. She is now the Moonlit Fairy and is much better at this than being a juggler on stage. So the next time you have trouble falling asleep, simply close your eyes and listen for Dusk, the Moonlight Fairy, to sing you to sleep.

My Teddy Bear - A Personal Essay By Sosy B., age 9

My Teddy Bear

My teddy bear has been with me since I was seven months old. Waa! He has held his smell of me for a very long time and it has the scent of lilacs. It sometimes smells like a winter day with snow pouring out of the sky. He reminds me when my dad’s friend gave him to me. “Here you go.” When he gave him to me he hugged me and he lifted me in his arms. He also reminds me of the middle of the day. He makes me feel secure and comforted. I have had him for nine years now. We love each other. He is so cuddly and feels rough on his head where he has a big hole but I still love him. His eyes feel really smooth and round. His nose feels bumpy and his knob for music is really bumpy and hard. He has never gotten lost because he is always on my bed or in my arms. Every night I have chocolate with him and at bed-time I say good night to him.

The End

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Trapped By: Anna S., age 14

Trapped in this place I don’t know
Struggling to be set free
Hoping to find what I’ve always hoped to be -
Happy and giddy, friendly and carefree
Just like everyone else.

Wishing I didn’t have to sit here in this skin
Numbing my soul and setting it free
Even though I know it’s killing me
Sometimes I wish I wouldn’t be me

Pirates by Maura Z, age 14

Wispy gusts of snow veiled the street outside of the warm cafĂ© window. Carter and I sat there with steaming mugs of cocoa in our hands, as his mother rambled on about how far back their faith goes. Carter's family went to church every Sunday, literally (if the world exploded, they'd still be kneeling in the pews) and his mother always raved about how her great aunt was a nun, or that her brother was off in the peace core. But the incessant flow of Mrs. Petry's voice stopped abruptly, and she awkwardly stumbled over that one shame in her ancestry. "Well, you see…" She sucked in her breath and held it as while before continuing," That's the end of our long line of commitment to the church I guess, your Great Great Grandfather; was a pirate"

Carter, who at the time had been aimlessly twirling his finger in the fluffy whipped cream, snapped his head up at that. Now you can imagine how any 2nd grader would feel about this chunk of news, nothing became more important to him. I watched as a spark of interest exploded in his sea green eyes, and something told me he might take this too far. I never saw anyone spit out as many questions at once as Carter did: Who was he? Where was he from? Do I look like him? Do we still have his treasure? The list went on and on. Mrs. Petry avoided the questions as best as she could weary of herself for even thinking of telling Carter of all people. But Carter never stopped asking questions for the rest of that Friday afternoon. I had no idea that on Saturday, the old Carter would walk the plank.

I woke the nest morning in the pale winter sunlight, and dressed in bundles as I got ready to walk the dog. Carter and I took our dogs on long walks every Saturday morning, even though Mr. and Mrs. Petry didn't really approve of a mutt like mine, but tradition is tradition. So I stumbled across the sick iced sidewalks as quickly and carefully as I could to Carter's crisp, white colonial home. Henry panted excitedly as I rapped on the large red door, both of us excited for a good day. The door creaked open reluctantly as Carters little sister appeared, eyeing me doubtfully. "Hey Riley, is Carter home? We always take the dogs on a walk on-" But she interrupted me. "I guess I can get him..., but remember, I warned you" With that she had flown up the stairs to her brothers room. Before I knew Carter was on his way downstairs, ready for a walk, but…"Carter" I exclaimed surprised,"What's on your hand?" I gestured to the twisted metal duct taped to his wrist. "It's the Caribbean Commander, the best hook for fighting in all the seven seas" he said with pride. "But it's just a fork with its prongs twisted""I think I would know," Carter let out a hardy laugh," You landlubbers think you know it all" I soon learned through all the confusion that there was an immediate change in my friend, and it wasn't easy to deal with. As much as I tried to make sense of it all, I couldn't, and the only thing that was clear was that in his mind, he'd always been a sailor with a hook that loves to steal treasure. The whole day he talked about a big storm that had blown in, while he fought on the waters, like he was the bravest pirate there ever was; but that was only the beginning. On Sunday, after his mom took him to the chapel and back, it seemed that something had grown on Carter's shoulder. It was like a mass of paper and tape strapped to himself. "Okay Carter, I think you're taking this a bit far, I mean seriously, what is that?" I admitted desperately, pointing at his shoulder. "What do you think it is?" he scoffed," It's my parrot of course; every good pirate had a parrot! And stop staring at me like I'm an alien, you act like you've never seen me like this in your life!""That's because I haven't Carter!" I blurted," You've never been like this in your life- you are not a pirate!" But of course this didn't affect his spirit much, he was a second grader who truly believed that right now, he is a pirate, and there was no changing his mind. I dropped the whole thing in the end, but it was hard to ignore his swarthy language, that "parrot" on his shoulder or the hook he swung wildly about. Boys, what did I expect? "Mom, what's his name? Please I promise I won't ask again!" Carter pleaded his mother as we sat in the warmth of the kitchen. He was dying to head over to the library and look up as much as he could with the librarians help. Mrs. Petry clanged the dishes together as she stuffed them in the cabinet. Wearily looking down on Carter's face, she pushed the hair out of her eyes, and sighed," Joseph Arthur Jones, and his 'friends' called him Black Soul Joe" she seemed to murmur that part under her breath," so go do whatever you want to about this, but that's the last time I'm bringing it up!". As she huffed out of the cozy kitchen, Carter was already bolting up the sidewalk towards the large brick library. I jumped on my bike and pedaled toward home in frozen waves of wind wondering what else Carter will find out about his ancestors. It was kind of interesting, all this talk about ancestry, if you think about it, you could be connected to anyone. For all I know I could be related to Queen Elizabeth or anyone else of famous history! The day dragged on with no word from Carter, and it was nearly nightfall when I heard our door bell echo through the house; ringing over and over again. Of course he was out on the porch, and his puffs of air smoked up in the bitter cool breeze. There was no hiding that mischievous gleam in his bright eyes. "But Carter-" I exclaimed in surprise," Where's all stuff? I mean the clothes and the hook… and where'd your bird go?" "Pirates don't interest me, they never really did," he simply stated," but guess what! I never really was part pirate in the first place, I'm all Viking!" We talked for a couple of minutes, and he excitedly told me all about his Great Great Great Grandpa who was now apparently Viking. He also explained that he had to go tell his mom (can't imagine how excited she was!) and I watched him dash across the snowy yards towards home. I suppose I couldn't expect anything more, from a boy with that kind of imagination.

The Tree By Maura Z. Age 14

The Tree Cars whizzed by,
All too fast,
And I imagined things the way they used to be,
With tumbling hills, brimming with warbling birds and flowers so sweet,
The way the fresh wind would blow on my branches, stretching my limbs for a new day,
But now I could only see a wide highway cuttinginto the roll of the fields as I stared onward,
The exhaust had tattered my once tender leaves, and shards of glass littered the base of my trunk,
I thought back to the old farmhouse that used to rest nearby, with its bright windows and warm presence,
I remembered when the children tied a rope around my strongest branch,
And swung in the breeze, their young laughter still echoeinceg thorough my mind,
But the builders came and explained that people with places to go and no time to waste had to come through here,
So the solid little house is gone,
And the people with places to go and no time to waste still race across the once brilliant landscape, not admiring the hue of the golden grases that whisper their sad tales to the fluent wind,
A splatter of mud speckled my trunk and I repeated those words that never left my heart,
Just wait a little longer, someday the sun will sing bright once more. -Maura Zindler