by Camille Atebe, Illustrated by Jess Olsen
Little Red Riding Hood walked home through the woods wearily, her beautiful red cloak matted and sticky with wolf saliva. She had had a rough day, as anyone familiar with her story well knows. Her empty picnic basket knocked against her knees as she walked, and her fist clenched the bunch of flowers she had picked for her Granny, now withered and limp (not her Granny, the flowers. Although, come to think of it, her Granny was looking a little withered and limp too, after the day she’d had.) Red finally reached her own front door and pushed it open. There in the front entrance stood her mother, arms crossed, mouth pursed with disapproval, eyes blazing. Uh-oh, thought Red.
Of course Red got in trouble. She was horribly late, and hadn’t called. The fact that the Big Bad Wolf had eaten the phone did not absolve her, since it was her fault that the Big Bad Wolf was in Granny’s house in the first place. Red’s mom sent Red’s dad out to make sure Granny was okay (she was) and yelled at Red quite extensively. Continue reading
It was an ordinary Monday evening. Courtney had eaten supper and was on her way to dance class. When she got there, she saw her dance teacher, Tracy. Tracy was a super energetic person and Courtney had been taking her dance classes for two years. It had never been boring, especially not tonight, as you will soon discover!
“Hi, Tracy. How are you today?” asked Courtney.
“I’m a little confused,” replied Tracy. Continue reading
…shoved it in a blender and pressed liquefy. I tossed my homework aside for the time being, and settled myself in front of the television—determined to rid my brain of anything useful it had learned during the day.
It took me several minutes to find the remote. I finally located it shoved between pizza boxes in the bottom corner of our fridge. (We have the most organized family.) Triumphantly, with remote in hand, I made my way to the disgusting dust lump my mother likes to call a sofa. Settling myself in the most comfortable position I could find, I raised the remote to the TV. Continue reading
“I’m Julian. I love writing! I live with my mom, a dog and two cats. Try writing the ending to my short story I call, The South River School.” Julian, Age 12
I was the new kid at school and I didn’t like it. Mom said I would make friends easily but… there was something wrong with the school here. The school is fenced in for some reason and the teachers were so weird. Something was wrong I could feel it. On my first day, I met Alex and he was my only friend in that school.
I am to freaked out to talk about Day 2-6. Sorry.
It was any other day at the weirdest school in the world. I was late and the room was dead silent. “Sorry, I’m late Mr Kean.” Said a mysterious voice in the front of the room. I looked up to see a girl. Continue reading
“I am a massive fan of a popular TV series, and the minute I found out we were writing a short story, I knew what I wanted to write! My aunt is an ER (emergency medicine) physician, and I’ve been around that kind of stuff most of my life! I did some research on some surgeries and things like that, but for the most part, I did this with the ideas that popped into my head! I want to be a surgeon one day, but I also love to write, so I put the two together and that is how this story was created!”
by Josie, Age 14
“I want to be the best!”
This is a phrase many people at the top of their field say, including Dr Addison Griffin, a general surgeon at Lakeway Regional Medical Center. She and her best friend, cardiothoracic surgeon, Dr Laurie Rodriguez, aspire to be the best at what they do. Not just in their fields, but the best in their profession. Their lives consist of 36-hour shifts, lots of blood, and trying to save every single person’s life that walks into the hospital. Surgery is what they live, love, and breathe. It gives purpose to their lives—even through all the struggles and complaints. Continue reading
by Sabrina, Age 11
A mote of golden pollen tickles my nose
like a firefly through cherry blossoms,
still, as if stuck in honey,
swishing left and right, like feathers,
silvered and transformed by the moon,
which hangs like a great luminous pearl
in the centre of a sky dazzled by
birthstone-blue stars, Continue reading
“I love dogs, and do whatever I can to help them. So even though this story isn’t based on an actual experience, that is where it came from.” Anousha, Age 10
I hear whimpering come from behind a bush. I peek behind the bush and laying there is a wounded she-dog. I take the injured dog in my hands. She is not very heavy. I can tell that she is underweight because her ribs are poking out from under her. Even though I am lost, I can’t just leave an injured dog in the forest to die!
I see a sign up ahead. With the dog in my arms, I run to the sign. It says Trail Exit Up Ahead, with an arrow pointing the direction to go. I follow the arrow until I am at the exit. I see a town with lots of little homes, and just my luck—a pet hospital right next to the pet store. I rush in the direction of the pet hospital, which is not very far away. Continue reading
by Samuel, Age 13
On a branch.
Long way down.
Hands gripped with fear, on a so small stick,
to a so tall heap of splinters,
digging in my limbs. Continue reading
by Sarah, Age 14
Rushing wind blowing back my hair
Whipping it around
A hurricane of possession snatching at the long strands
The crystal clear blue
surrounds in all directions;
There is no up and down
No right way or wrong way
There’s only me
and the endless sky Continue reading
by Leo, Age 12
It’s five or six in the morning
Sighs, yawns, and groans fill the air
Car engines are running and droning
During the morning commute
The owner returns to the car
with a mug of coffee Continue reading