The Ocean Child
The summer cabin was wonderful. We all thought so. It was white with blue trim around the windows and doors. The roof was gray like mist. I had been waiting all summer to visit this...
Stories
Original fiction by young writers ages 8-13
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The summer cabin was wonderful. We all thought so. It was white with blue trim around the windows and doors. The roof was gray like mist. I had been waiting all summer to visit this cabin, but it was the beach I was most eager to see.
My name is Jasmine, and I love the beach. I love the sound of the waves, finding empty shells on the sand, swimming.
The hot July sun beat its fiery rays down on the heads of the slaves working in the shelterless Carolina cotton field. Tall, twelve-year-old Curtis, dragging his cotton bag behind him, paused to steal a moment to soothe his aching back. Straightening up, he winced as his back stretched. His hands, rough and scarred from picking cotton day after day, twitched at his decrepit straw hat.
Matt opened his father’s drawer. Within lay a large pile of phone, water, and electric bills. One after the other they read “late” or “unpaid.” Next to them, there was a small pile of grocery coupons that was being rapidly depleted. Wrong drawer, he thought. I’ll try the bottom one.
As Matt opened it, the bottom drawer creaked loudly and released a musty smell. Matt chuckled.
How the sea looked so different at night than at day I will never forget. How the sea lapped at my toes, moving up with the tide, to my ankles, knees, and eventually to my head.
I was engulfed by the sea. Every time I lifted my head up to breathe in the salty air I noticed how beautiful the moonlight caught the waves, how the symphony of the ocean crashing against the rock was so enchanting.
Hugh gazed happily at his creation. Yes. He’d done it!
“Leah, come look at this!” he called, holding the kite for his nine-year-old sister to see. Leah gasped out loud.
“Whoa!” she breathed, admiring his handiwork. Her eyes traced over the delicate needlework on the smooth fabric.
“Pretty cool, huh?”
“Yeah…” She leant out an arm to touch it.
“Don’t touch!
By Elizabeth Surman
Scenario Number One: I’m not sure if the directions on my math homework mean one thing or another.
Solution: Go to Dad. Scenario Number Two: I woke up late and can’t walk to school today. Solution: Ask Dad to drive me. Scenario Number Three: Mom hasn’t gotten back from grocery shopping but I’m hungry!!! What do I do? You guessed it!
I squeeze my eyes shut and yank the plastic goggles from my face. Pulling them away, I swipe at the inside, attempting to clear away the fog that is obstructing my vision. My feet are coated by the gooey bottom of the Crystal River.
The rest of my group remains face down in the water, searching for manatees. I shiver and my goggles fog up again.
“Annabelle, I just don’t think this is a good idea,” my best friend said nervously. “I mean, the sign even says, ‘Private Property: No trespassing, No swimming, No exceptions!’”
“Oh, come on, Sarah! Nobody’s home right now anyway,” I replied. I enjoy having fun. You know, taking risks and doing the most ridiculous dares ever. That was fun.
Carl looked out the window. He could barely see the park across the street because of the fog. He had to stay at his house all day today because of the fog warning. Now all he had to do was to get his baby sister to bed so he could sit back and relax. She had had her bath and was in her pj’s and ready for bed. When he looked back at his living room, he groaned.
“This is dangerous,” I say. The cold wind stings my cheeks and ruffles my hair. But I keep climbing up the old rusty ladder, trying to ignore my numb hands and my pounding heart and the fact I’m over twenty feet in the air.
“Well, yeah,” Addie says, snorting sarcastically. Isn’t she the perfect, ever-supporting best friend? No.