The Spectacle Dilemma
Angie pulled on a jumper and a pair of pants, not peeking. She stuck her arms in a jacket without allowing herself even to think. After gulping a cup of OJ and some cereal, she...
Stories
Original fiction by young writers ages 8-13
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Angie pulled on a jumper and a pair of pants, not peeking. She stuck her arms in a jacket without allowing herself even to think. After gulping a cup of OJ and some cereal, she brushed her teeth without grimacing. But when she was ready, backpack slung over shoulder, it was time. To decide.
I shaded my eyes against the Saturday morning sun, then snuck another peek at my watch. It was already ten o’clock, and Isabella Hohenstaufen had yet to appear. Every summer, for two weeks, my parents and I vacation at Carrie Ann Bay, where we own a beach house. This is the part of summer that is devoted to family time, when me, Mom, and Dad get to spend some quality time together.
There is a special place in the old Kingdom of Nepal where the plains meet forests that goes on up to the Himalayan Mountains until the tree line stops and it is very cold, where the daphne bird, the rhino, and the tiger are close to grazing cows.
Gopa was a beautiful cow with kind bright eyes who lived in this amazing place.
“Splat!” A blast of cold water slapped my bare arm. Gasping, I quickly whirled around to catch the source of the attack. I faced a familiar face with dark brown eyes, dark uncombed hair that stuck out in every direction, and a big, playful smile. It couldn’t be anyone but my older brother, Paul. “Fight, or prepare to die!” he yelled, trying to make his voice sound raspy and evil.
The crowds roar for me as I step on the track. I listen, and I arch my neck and dance as my groom leads me down the stretch. Mike, my jockey, sits still on my back and listens too. But I know he is excited. I can tell by the way he grips the reins, clutching them firm. I prance a little more to assure him of my confidence.
There was no noise. Everything was silent except for birds chirping and leaves rustling. Off in the distance a bell rang. Suddenly, noise erupted as students came running out of Lake Heights Elementary eager to begin their summer. Only one child didn’t run out screaming and yelling. This child was an eight-year-old girl named Suzy.
“Ewww! Its guts and internal juices are dripping down the driveway!” my sister would screech in a squeaky six-year-old voice.
“Yeah, and now they’re dripping on you!” I said, while shoving half of the dead corpse in her face.
“Girls, stop playing with our dinner. We have to eat those,” my grandmom would say.
A soft whisper echoed off the walls. “Jess!”
I jerked into consciousness, tense and trembling. The door was closed. The clock ticked as usual. The lopsided calendar above my mahogany dresser showed the same picture of a sun sinking behind the mountains that had been there when I went to bed.
Must be a dream. I leaned back into my pillow to close my eyes again.
Mom gently shook me. “Honey, your father is home.”
“What? Oh! Yay!” I cried, already out of bed. “Dad, how did your hunting trip go? Was Fern good?”
“Fabulous!” my tall father said. “She treed this one!” He held up a large silver coon. “You trained her well.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I looked up at him. “But where is Fern now?”
“She ran off. Probably chasing after a deer.
There are some things in life that you never forget—no matter how much time passes, they just cling to your heart and mind like the stubby fingers of a kindergartner clutching his mother’s hand on the first day of school. Special moments, like the day when my parents showed Nick and me the place where they met, and we sat there under the big tree, as one happy family, or emotional events, like...