Author: Alyssa Larue

I am the Adult and Teen Services Coordinator at the DPL and the epitome of a book nerd. When I'm not producing a teen short film or teaching a yoga class, I can usually be found with my nose in a classic, historical fiction, or fantasy read!

Writing Challenge Winner: The Amazing Adventure of Amelia Smith by Lisanna Swallow

Lisanna Swallow is an eleven-year old writer who participated and completed the summer 2024 Hero’s Journey Writing Challenge. Her short story, The Amazing Adventure of Amelia Smith” features an incredible tale of dragons and slayers, betrayals, and triumphs.

Read Lisanna’s incredible short story below:

Part One

            Dragons, said to be horrible monsters that burn down villages at a time. Only the brave or people with death wishes face them. That’s when Amelia Smith came in. She fought dragons, saved people, and hung dragon heads on her wall as a trophy. Everyone  admired and loved her. She now lives in a castle-like cottage in the middle of a small village, her hometown. She lives with her one daughter. She sells dragon parts for a living. Everyone still admires her. Honestly, sometimes, I don’t understand it. I am Amelia Smith the third. Her one and only daughter. Welcome to my mind.

          Other people don’t understand it. They don’t see it happen. She doesn’t just slay the dragons, she murders them. One day, when I was younger, she let me meet one of the dragons. The dragon was a baby hydra. Mother had already killed its family. The hydra had many heads already. The hydra was sweet and joyful. She was also weary and shaky. Poor thing. That day, I bonded with the hydra. I named her Ginger. I tried to stop Mother from butchering her. Mother was not pleased. She forced me to watch it happen. 

          Most every dragon Mother brought into the butcher was kind. It filled my heart with terrible guilt and the horrible pang of sadness to let it happen. But there was nothing to do! Every try failed. This continued on and on. There was no stopping it. Another day, another dragon. Another try, another watching the butcher. It was a horrible punishment. Mother did not seem to care for the dragons she was murdering. It made me look at her another way. As if she wasn’t my mother, but a heartless butcher.

          “Today will be different.”, I whisper to myself as I get out of bed. I change my clothes and walk to the rusty kitchen. An egg lay on the table. Not a dragon egg, but a chicken egg. One purposed for eating or cooking. I see that the firepot was already lit. I crack the egg to eat for breakfast. The fire is slowly dying, the egg will take a while to cook. I sit in patience and loneliness. I remember the days Mother would eat with me. Back when we had Father. 

          After finishing my egg, I head out of the cottage doors. A raven, tall and proud, is perched on the barren roof. I click my tongue and stick my arm out. Sure enough, tied to his leg is a letter. It reads:

Amelia Smith III

A letter? For me? I untie the parchment from the raven and reward him with a scrap of meat before he flies home towards the rising sun. 

          I run back inside and sit on the dragon scale carpet in the main room. I maliciously tear open the envelope to reveal a parchment that reads:

 Amelia Smith III,

Somebody told me that you like dragons, That you don’t  want to hunt them. I respect that. I, too, am against dragon hunting. I know of a dragon that needs saving. A dragon that you can save. For I am far too old and fat to become a dragon hero. You, however, are young and spry. The dragon in speaking is a hydra. I believe your mother has butchered his sister. Enclosed in this document is a map. That will guide you to the hydra. The hydra is now in captivity. He is being tortured and will be butchered in a month. The journey will take time. I hope you make it to him before it is too late.

Caspian

Who is Caspian? Nevermind that! In the letter he mentioned a hydra! But also another one, one my mother butchered! I believe he is talking about Ginger. I pull the map from the document and read it. The journey is long, stretched wide and far. It will be a long and perilous journey. I plan my route.  The route is supposedly the quickest route but I have no horse to ride upon so I must go on foot. It also has many valleys, many forests. Spots on the map say in red, bold writing; “DRAGON SIGHTINGS HERE” The path I chose has many of those spots.

 It is only noon. I will not set out on my journey today. For today is a day for packing, planning, and preparing. I run to my room. Ready to pack my items. I grab a lightweight handbag. I also grab my bow and arrow satchel. I will need to hunt. I run to the kitchen and find something to contain  water. I run outside towards the well. I fill the canister with water and stuff it into my bag. I run back into my house and straight into the kitchen. I grab all the scraps of food as I can and put them into my bag. My bag is only a bit more than halfway full. I run into the barn and grab a rope and knife. In the barn, I see a compass, laying on the floor. I think for a minute and decide to grab it. My bag is finally full. I run to the room and stuff it under my bed along with the map, letter, and bow and arrow set.I eat dinner alone. My mother is too busy to bother. I go to bed and try to sleep well. The thought of running away is nagging at my brain. I can’t just leave her alone without a word! Can I? I will write a note. I know it doesn’t really make a difference but it helps me sleep. And that is all that matters now.

I awake. It is early. The sun hasn’t risen yet. I grab my quill and ink and begin to write the note:

Mother,

It is time I go on an adventure of my own. I will be back

                                Your daughter,

                                        Amelia

It has happened. I am off. I will become a hero. A dragon hero.

Part Two

      I sit down on the dusty, pathless floor. I have been traveling all morning. From the looks of the dim sun in the middle of the sky  it is around noon. I pull the dry map from the coarse leather bag on my back. The tree I am sitting by is big. It is so big that it is a landmark on my map. I am still very far from the spot circled in red ink. I move my eyes back to the silhouette of the tree and see in red ink “DRAGON SIGHTINGS HERE” right by it. A rustle in the nearly-dead bushes sends me aback in shock.

I grab my leather handbag and fling it above the lowest branch I tie it on and climb as high as a can. Quickly and quietly at the same time I grasp the highest branch I can and thrust myself up to it. There are more rustles in the bushes. The orange autumn leaves stop me from seeing the cause of the rustling. The forest is beautiful and calming. The chilly autumn breeze gives me a warm sense of home. I get a tight grip on my branch and duck down. A slick, green, snakelike figure with a long tail sits in the clearing. It has two teal goat like horns and two wings far too small to support its body. Its legs have huge claws pointing out and it has two mini horns between the large horns. It sniffs the air and turns its head around. What if it smells me? 

It lays down. It doesn’t see me. What a relief! I have let the thoughts go through too soon. The snapping of a branch fills my body with ice cold fear. My leather bag falls and almost hits the creature’s scaly tail. Its reflexes were swift and quick. Before I knew it it’s perched on the thin branch next to me. A dragon! I lose my footing and plummet forwards. As I fall back from the tree, my heart races with the sudden rush of adrenaline. The regret of climbing so high hits me hard. The dragon pounces forward. Its long claws grip into my coat and keep me from falling. The dragon is smaller than I thought. It’s about the size of a large lion. “Grab my wrist.” It speaks! I do as it says. Excited and scared at the same time. A talking dragon! It flings its wrist over its head and I land on its back. It jumps off of the branch and its wings seem to expand magically. The wingspan is about as long as a pitchfork. We landed and I jumped off of its back. “Thank you.” I say. The dragon bows its head and opens his mouth. “I am Mars. Peacemaker for the animals. Dragon of Shamrock woods. I help all problems and aid all that need it. What brings you here?” 

Its voice was male. He looked at me expectantly. “I am Amelia Smith the third. My mother is a butcher to dragons but I attempt to pass through the forest in peace. For dragons are my friends and a hydra on the other side has been sentenced to death. I will save him.” I grab my bag and see an arrow poking out of its satchel, the tip glistened dark red in fresh blood. I turn to Mars to see him lying on the ground, a sleek cut on his tail staining onto the dying tan grass. “My arrows! How could I be so careless?!” I think aloud. Mars stands up, his tail thrashing to the side, shiny red droplets falling to the grass, walking towards me.  I prepare myself for the fiery wrath of a dragon but instead he stops and sits beside me. 

“Do not blame yourself. The tree is to blame. It was the branch that had snapped. The fact that the bag stayed on shows that you tied a strong knot onto the tree. You are better than you think. For it was the tree that could not handle you. Why else would the branch have thrown you off?” Mars looks at me and blinks sympathetically. Suddenly, he jumps off of the floor and into the sky. He is gone. I am alone. I lie down and look at the map. Wind blows in my face and Mars is back. He has stuff in his jaws. He lands and sets it down. His tail is bleeding heavily. “There are healing herbs and honey not far down north.” Mars speaks. He wants me to grab them. I stand and walk into the forest. 

I spot the herbs quickly and set them all in a pile together. A buzzing bee hive drips honey. Though there is nowhere to catch it. I spot a spear like stone and grab it. I walk up to the hive. I gulp at the sight of so many bees. I whisper to myself. “I can do this.”  I dig the stone knife into the yellow hive. Bees swarm out, stinging me, they mostly get my hands and arms. It doesn’t hurt very bad but it sickens me with guilt at the thought of all of them dying to hurt me. I grab a leaf and use it to catch the warm, fresh honey oozing out of the damaged hive.

I return to the clearing to find Mars awaiting me. My coat is sewn up from the claw marks and the hole where the arrow broke through the satchel is mended. I give Mars his herbs. He silently fixes up a poultice. I look to the sky and realize the sun is setting. I grab my water canister and drink a few thirsty gulps. I get my bow and arrows ready. “I’m going to go hunting.”  I tell Mars.

I catch a deer. Mars’s wound has finally stopped bleeding. It is magically stitched up. Mars starts a fire and I cook the deer. As I eat it Mars talks. “I want to mentor you. Teach you the ways of the dragon. The forest. So when you save the hydra you will be ready. I want to come with you.” I reply  “Thank you Mars. You can come with me. We leave the forest tomorrow.” I rest along the tree tonight. Mars is curled in a ball in the clearing.  

Lisanna's original drawing of Mars
Lisanna’s Original Drawing of Mars

Part Three

I awake. Mars is curled in a ball in the clearing. I sit up. It is morning. I breathe in the fresh lake air. The warm summer sun is warming my entire body. I sit up and pick up a few ripe tomatoes from a vine. Then, a hydra runs into the lake and shouts. “Save me!” Its voice is a dying groan of many voices together. It falls to the floor. “Mars!” I shout his name. He doesn’t awake. I shake him yet his body lays limp. He is dead. An arrow soars past my head. I hear a scream and the entire world comes different and falls into cold darkness.  

          I awake with a jump, my mind pulling itself back into consciousness. “Just a dream.” I whisper to myself. The chilly autumn forest surrounds me, A warm sense of home fills my thoughts. Shamrock woods is much like the forest by my house. A rustle in the autumn thicket startles me. Mars sticks his head out of the bush and then he jumps swiftly onto the clearing. His eyes gleam with an unhidden sense of confidence. “Are you ready to set off?” He asks, spreading his wings magically, almost knocking down one of the ancient trees with the size of his scaly wings. I stand up and stretch. I throw the bag over my shoulders and sit on his back. His wings flap, gusting a wind that rustles every leaf within ten feet of the clearing. He jumps greatly and we are in the sky. We are off.

          After a while of flying, the clouds seem to thicken. Finally, it starts to drizzle. Next, it’s raining. The rain keeps getting heavier and heavier. “I can’t fly in this.” Mars honestly announces. We glide down until we reach ground. “We are still in Shamrock woods.” Mars’s news disappoints me. “When will we be out?” I ask. “After the Sphinx’s maze.” “The what?” “You will see.” I look around and see a landmark that I remember on the map, the landmark that shows the exit. “We will continue on foot.” I decide. Mars nods and we walk forward. 

          We continue on until the path is blocked by a tall thicket of cold, green thorns. The green was dark and eerie. I see a tree. Its leaves are a dying orange like all of the other trees in the forest. The tree is gnarled and there are birds nests in it. The bushes are the only green in the whole woods.  Mars mutters something in another language. The hedge opens like a door in front of me. I shudder. Mars nudges my back and I step forward. I keep walking and Mars enters the bushes too. It somewhat looks like a giant maze. The hedge door slams shut and Mars sits down. “We have entered the Sphinx’s maze.” His voice sounded solemn and the leaves beside me rustle. I attempt to jump backwards but Mars’s horns push me forward. He moves to the side and I stand next to him. A large creature appears out of the bushes. A sphinx! 

          “I am the sphinx of the Thornbush maze. Only one may pass.” The sphinx walked away to let us decide. Mars looks at me and I realize he knew that this would happen. “I have to leave you now. The time has come for us to part. I will see you again.” I open my mouth to say a remark but he launches himself up into the air. “Goodbye, Amelia. I hope we meet again.” I stare in disbelief. I have to make it through the bushes. I tell myself over and over again. Not for myself, but for the hydra, but for Mars, and for my mother. So that she can see that killing these magnificent creatures is wrong. 

          The cold voice of the sphinx breaks me from my thoughts. “Amelia, is it?” I turn to face her and give a quiet nod.  She grimaces and stares into my eyes. “Well, Amelia, You will have to complete a quick riddle before entering the maze. You will get three guesses.” “Let me know when you are ready to hear the riddle.” I prepare myself. “I’m ready.” I gulp. “I speak without a mouth and hear without ears. I have no body, but I come alive with wind. What am I?” The sphinxes voice rings. “Three guesses.” 

          “A shadow.” I answer. I try to make my voice confident to hide my fear. “No.” The word rings in my head. It doesn’t stop. It’s wailing cries. Then it’s clear to me! “A ghost!” This time, the confidence in my voice isn’t fake. “Wrong again” The sphinxes voice rasps. I look up to the sky in vain, half hoping that Mars would come back down. He doesn’t come to me but the answer does. The rain is the mouth, the sun is the ears. “A cloud.” This time I answer truthfully, my voice full of fear. Cold air filled my lungs as the sphinx opens her cursed mouth to speak. “Incorrect.” Her voice feels like ice stabbing into my heart. The bushes break open to reveal an exit and a gust of wind blows me back. 

          I awake. I recognize the tree I am rested by as the one that was near the maze. But now there is no maze. I have failed. The pathway forward will sacrifice another day of traveling. I will need to eat. I grab my hunting supplies and look around. There are no deer tracks. There is no sign of any good food. I hear a rustle. A rabbit! I aim my bow and shoot. The arrow hit the rabbit’s flank. The rabbit tries to run but I shoot again, this time hitting its neck. It struggles for a while until it finally dies. I grab my arrows out of the rabbit and put them back in my satchel. I start a fire to cook and eat the rabbit. I pack up my supplies and move onward. The hydra needs me. But am I even strong enough to save him if I can’t even answer a simple riddle?

Part Four

          After what seems like forever, I finally stand up. Even if I can’t save the dragon, I will need to journey back home. I look around. It has stopped raining. The sky is starting to clear. There is no sign of Mars. This is it. I’m finally alone. I never had any friends. I have only really made friends with dragons. Mother used to be my friend. But after Father died, she didn’t really care about anything. She was all I had left and I abandoned her to save the life of a dragon. Ginger was a close friend of mine but Mother had her butchered. Mars was probably the closest thing I had to a friend. But I had to leave him to save that dragon. This stupid dragon is the reason for the loss of my friends. And I want to choose not to save him. But if I did, that would be a disgrace to my friends. The reason I lost them was because of this dragon. So if I give up, I will lose them for nothing. I have to move on. No matter how much I don’t want to. I must move on. 

          I walk forward. I keep walking. This forest seems to go on forever. Until I see a sign in the distance. I run towards it, dodging the trees and boulders. I finally reach it. The sign! It reads “You are now exiting Shamrock woods.” I step onto a dying, windy prairie. A bright light flashes in front of me. A man appears. His face is pale and he wears black robes. The robes seem familiar. They seem like the robes that the witches and wizards wear in all of the stories that the elders in my village tell me. The robes are dark and have yellow constellations on them. “Hello, traveler!” His hand is as pale as his face. “You have traveled far and made it through Shamrock woods! Continue straightforwardly for a prize! For Shamrock is a huge forest and only the brave make it through!” His smile looked honest but something was off with this man. “Who are you?” I ask. “Why, I’m the wizard of the woods! I work together with the other spirits of Shamrock forest to make the place better. My name is Mercury!” His voice and smile seemed honest yet something was still completely wrong about this man. 

          “Forest spirits?” I wondered aloud. “Ah yes! Forest spirits! There are three of us! There’s me, Jupiter, and Mars! I suppose you have never heard of them.” Mars! “I know Mars! He helped me get through the forest!” Mercury’s face lit up in shock and excitement. “Really? Well that’s curious! It’s Jupiter who helps the travelers.” I have never heard of Jupiter before. I think for a second and then it hits me. “There are eight planets! Why are there only three of you?” Mercury smiled again and said “You are thinking well! There are actually nine spirits! Three to guide the forest, three to guide the prairie, and three to guide the beach!” I nodded at the information. “That’s it! Mars said that he met a girl named Amelia! He said that if I saw you then to give you this!” He holds out a small wooden box. I grab it but before I can open it there is a loud beeping sound. “Gotta go now!” Mercury disappears and the beeping stops. 

I walk forward and stop at a small boulder. I sit down beside it. On the box there is a small parchment. It reads “For Amelia.” I open the box and inside is another parchment. I pull it out and unfold it. 

Amelia,

I  saw you in your village and decided you were the one. You were the one to save all dragons. The hydra is real. The hydra represents millions of dragons on the beach, being trapped and tortured. You need to save them. Do you remember the note? The one from a man named Caspian. It was true. It was all true. All except, There is no Caspian. It was me.

-Mars

Inside the box there is a whistle. Tied to it is a note. “Use only in an emergency.” I move onward just through this prairie is the beach. I will save the dragons. I will save them all. 

After running for a while, I run out of breath. I try to slow down but I slip on a rock hidden in the tall grass. Right when I think I’m going to hit the ground, I don’t! I look to see a dragon where I should have landed. I get off of it. “Thank you.” The dragon nods. “I am Pluto, Dragon of the prairie.” It was a female. She is pink and has a yellow belly. She is a Long dragon, like the ones in Chinese folktales. “Why have you entered this sacred land?” her voice was calm. “On the other side of this there is a beach. In that beach there are people who torture dragons. I attempt to save the dragons.” Pluto looked at me with hope and respect. “Use this in an emergency.” she handed me a whistle and disappeared in a poof of dust.

I finally exit the prairie and reach a beach. There are no dragons in sight. I move along the beach until I reach water. There are footsteps, dragon footsteps. I follow the footsteps until I see a group of people far in front of me. I hear the screech of a dragon and see many dragons near the people. “Oh no!” I accidentally say aloud. A few people whipped around and  started charging for me. I grab both whistles and blow them. The whistles disappear and Mars and Pluto appear by my side. This is a battle we will win. 

Part Five

The three approaching men look startled at the fact that Mars and Pluto are beside me but they keep charging. “We’ll all take one!” The middle one decides. I charge for him. I pull out my bow and arrow, dip it in the poison compartment that I had installed as a child and aim steadily, still running towards him. I shoot, hitting him in the head. He falls to the ground, dead. The two other men lay on the ground near Pluto and Mars. I jump on Mars’s back and he flies. Pluto flies near us and we land where the dragon tortures hideout is. 

A splash comes  from the water and a huge, blue, and yellow dragon splashes onto the shore, crushing a few of the men. It is the size of a whale. “Hi! I’m Neptune!” The roar echoes all around the beach. I run to a cage of small dragons. A sharp rock lay beside me and I pick it up, its jagged edges pricking my fingers. I use it to destroy the lock on the cage and set the small dragons free. I run to the next cage. I destroy the lock and let the dragons free. A thump brings me to the ground. I turn and I realize that one of the men from the dragon torturers has pinned me down, his foot pushing hard on my stomach. I wrap my legs around his foot and push hard, shoving him off of me. I stand up.

I hear the crying yelp of a dragon and see that one of the torturers is using the jagged rock to stab it. I slide over and kick the torturer. I grab the rock and gently pick up the baby dragon. It looks up at me and bites at me. I hold on tight to the baby dragon. I set it far from the battle and run back. A sharp pain stabs into my arm as an arrow sinks in. The bristles on the back are purple to show that the arrow is poisoned. Gladly, it wasn’t killing poison like my poison of which I made myself. Pain surged through my entire arm and I yanked the arrow out, letting my arm bleed. Pull out one of my arrows and dip it in the poison. I get a sight of who shot me and shoot him right in the head. The instant poison does the rest for me, leaving him dead on the ground. 

I finally make it back to the battlefield and unlock more cages. All of the men guarding the fortress are either gone or dead. All of the dragons outside of the fortress were also freed. The only people outside are me, Mars, Pluto, and Neptune. Neptune turns himself into a human. And runs to us. “You can turn into a human?!?!” “All dragons can.” We enter the fortress. There are only ten men, each guarding one cage. Each cage has a dragon that is around the size of Mars in them. “Help us!” Almost all the dragon cages call in sorrow. Over and over again. Their wailing begging us. Pluto is the first to jump forward. She pins one down. She opens her mouth and burns the man to a crisp. She growls and stalks until all of the men are cowering in a corner. “Are we going to let this stupid dragon boss us?” One man shouts. The others cheer and grab their spears. “STAY THERE!”  I run to a cage breaking it open. The others do the same. I open the door and let out the dragons, glad that Pluto is distracting the men.

I run up the wooden stairs, Mars following me. I reach the door and slam it open. In the roofless room there is a great hydra. It had more than thirty heads, each crying their despair. He is blue and massive. A thousand strong ropes tie him down. Massive cuts are everywhere along his giant scaly body. Nobody is in the room. I run to the hydra. “You are going to be alright.” I assure him. I use the jagged rock to cut each rope, one by one. The hydra stands up, revealing tons of cuts and scars on his leg. One of his heads came down to face her. 

“Thank you. Thank you for saving all of those dragons. But I am too scarred to leave this place. They would kill me if I walked a step. Thank you for it all. You are a hero, Amelia. Go home. Tell your Mother you are safe. Tell her all that has happened. Tell her all that you can. Tell her to stop. After what you did, she will. Goodbye, Amelia. I wish I got to know you better.” I step back. “What do you mean by that?” He lays down. He closes his eyes. He is gone. “No! NO! You can’t be dead!” he doesn’t hear me. My eyes swell up in tears as I think about earlier. He was not a stupid hydra! He wasn’t the loss of my friends! He was the start of my friends. Mars comes towards me and sets his tail on my shoulder. 

Three Months Later

I awake. Mother is cooking breakfast. I get dressed and walk to the table. Mars is waiting at the table. Pluto and Neptune are in human form, talking about something. I sit next to Mars. “Good morning, Amelia.” “Good morning,” I reply. It has been two months since we moved to Shamrock woods. Mars, Pluto, and Neptune live with us now. Mother is no longer a dragon butcher and lives a much happier life hunting with her family. And best of all, I have 9 new friends. For Mercury, Venus, Earth, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune (The other forest spirits) Are my friends now! Ever since the battle, Mars, Pluto, And Neptune are my best friends. “Breakfast is served!” Mother said, placing five plates on the dining table. We all ate breakfast quickly and ran outside. We flew to the snowy beach. All of the dragon torturers’ stuff was cleaned up and our wounds were healed. I finally have friends! I finally have a family! I finally have a home! Every day, I give my respect to the hydra. I give thanks because he is the reason for my happy ending.

  The End 

Writing Challenge Winner: Misty by Bekah Abbot

Bekah Abbot is a fifteen-year old writer who participated and completed the summer 2024 Hero’s Journey Writing Challenge. Her short story, “Misty”, tells the magical tale of sisters, friends, and mysterious creatures.

Read Bekah’s epic short story below:

Original Artwork by Bekah Abbot
Original Artwork by Bekah Abbot

May stood on the deck of the Waterwing with her sister, sad, but not without hope. She wasn’t crying, but she felt as overcast as the sky overhead. Slowly it darkened, then it started raining. Mrs. Daya who was looking after them, came and shoveled them indoors. The rain quickly turned to a raging storm. May tried to calm her sister, but she didn’t feel calm either. The waters tossed and shook the Waterwing as she rolled along on into the mist.  

“Oh, May, why did father send us on this dreadful watercraft?”  

May couldn’t help but smile at her sister’s romantic speech.  

“He already told you, Misty. He didn’t think he should leave us at home alone.”  

Misty saw the sense in that, and decided that it was a good time to curl up gloomily and bemoan her fate. Secretly Misty had always wanted an adventure, but she didn’t think that drowning in the “briny blue” counted. Wave after wave came crashing down on the deck, but nothing but the moaning of the boards reached them, until the boat jerked suddenly. Water started coming in under the door. Misty and May jumped up in terror as the Waterwing was thrown against a big rock. Misty was knocked out of her senses. May tried to wake her from her delirium, but the sea swelled up for another attack. Darkness took over as the Waterwing was swallowed up into the depths.  

“What’s that down in the sand?” Nathaniel wondered as he rode down to the beach. 

As he got closer, he thought he could distinguish a human figure! He dismounted and ran toward it, to find a girl lying in the sand. Nathaniel panicked. What was he supposed to do? Was she even alive? Yes, she was still breathing, though slowly and painfully. He lifted her onto his horse and brought her to his dad’s clinic. His dad was a doctor, he would know what to do.  

“She’ll be fine,” His dad said after careful scrutiny, “but it’s a good thing you found her when you did, she couldn’t have lasted too long it that condition.”  

Nathaniel was relieved.  

“Who’s this?” Nathaniel’s sister Lilly asked, as she came in the clinic door. 

The situation being explained to her, she insisted on bringing her to their house and taking care of her until she woke. Their dad was pleased by this proposal, and helped to get her home.  

“Where am I?” May opened her eyes to find herself in a strange room. The curtains were open, and through the window May could see the sunrise. The bright sunlight poured into the room and lit it up like magic. Someone knocked on the door softly. 

“Hello? Are you awake yet?” it sounded like a girl’s voice. 

“Yes. Please come in!” 

The door opened, and in came a tall girl with thick brown hair. It seemed to May that she brought joy into the room with her. 

“I’m so glad to see that you’re feeling better! Oh, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Lilly Valor.” 

“It’s nice to meet you Lilly, I’m May Hawthorne. Only… where am I?… and why?” 

Lilly laughed   “Oh, fate brought you here. And by fate, of course, I mean my twin brother Nathaniel.” 

May was too confused for words. “Can you remember anything? Nathaniel said you were unconscious on the beach.” 

“Not very well, and what I do remember I can’t be sure is true.” 

“Well tell me what you can remember.” 

“I was on a boat,” May had to think long and hard about the rest, “It hit a big rock pillar, and people were flung overboard. That’s as much as I can remember.” 

“Do you know the name of the boat?” 

“I can’t remember.” 

They went on like this for a while, but May had lost most of her memories. After a while Nathaniel came up to the door. 

“Oh, hi Nathaniel!” Lilly said. “This is May. May, meet my brother Nathaniel.” 

May smiled through her pain. She really liked Lilly, and she thought that she would like Nathaniel too. Nathaniel was tall like his sister, in fact he looked a lot like her, except that his hair was red and his eyes blue.  

“I trust you’re feeling better?” 

“I guess I wouldn’t know. You can’t really tell how you’re feeling when you’re unconscious.” 

Nathaniel smiled. 

“Well, you do look better. You were in bad shape last night, but as long as you don’t give up your spirit, im sure you’ll be just fine!” 

Later that night, Lilly came into May’s room with a necklace that her younger brother Braden had found down on the beach.  

“Is this your locket?” Lilly asked her. “Braden found it not far from where you came ashore.” 

May took the locket and opened it. The picture inside was ruined. The water had made a big mess of it, but she could just make out herself and another younger girl. 

“Misty?” May whispered under her breath. “This is my sister!” 

“You have a sister?” 

“Yes, and she’s probably scared half to death by now! Lilly, I have to find her!” 

“You’re still too weak to go anywhere on your own. I’m coming with you.” 

“No need for you to go anywhere yet.” They turned to find Nathaniel at the door. “I’ll go talk to the police about it.” 

“Thank you, Nathaniel, but I must look for her.” May said. 

When Nathaniel got back May, Lilly, and Braden were ready to go.  

“The Police will search the city, and on the beaches,” Braden reasoned, “so the only other way to go is into the forest! Besides, what better place to seek adventure than Coalrose Forest? You know some say that the forest is home to all sorts of paranormal creatures!”  

“But we’re not looking for ‘adventure’ Braden, we’re looking for May’s sister.” 

“It’s pretty much the same thing though, right?” 

“Makes sense to me,” May said, “who votes we take Coalrose Forest?” 

The company agreed, and on they strode into the dark woodlands beyond. 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> 

Misty’s heart pounded in her chest as she stumbled through the dense foliage, the towering trees casting long shadows in the fading light. The island was vast and unfamiliar, each rustle of leaves and distant call of birds reminding her just how alone she was. She paused to catch her breath, her eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of her sister. 

“May!” she called out, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and determination. “May, where are you?” 

The only response was the whisper of the wind through the trees. Misty wiped a tear from her cheek, refusing to let despair take hold. She had to find her sister. She had to be brave. 

The path ahead was treacherous, with roots and rocks threatening to trip her at every step. But Misty pressed on, her mind focused on one thing: finding May. She knew her sister would never give up on her, and she wouldn’t give up either. 

Suddenly, she heard a faint sound, almost like a whisper. She stopped, straining to listen. There it was again, a soft, distant cry. Her heart leapt with hope. 

“May!” she shouted, her voice stronger now. “I’m coming!” 

With renewed energy, Misty followed the sound, her steps quickening despite the obstacles. She wouldn’t stop until she found her sister, no matter what.  

“Misty?” She could hear her sister’s voice calling out to her! 

Misty stumbled along, blind with excitement. Could it really be May? She tripped, but got up and kept going.  

Misty’s relief at hearing her sister’s voice was short-lived. As she hurried through the underbrush, she suddenly found herself face-to-face with a creature out of a nightmare. A giant wolf, its fur as dark as midnight and eyes glowing with an eerie intelligence, stood blocking her path. 

“Well, well, what do we have here?” The wolf’s voice rumbled, deep and resonant, sending shivers down Misty’s spine. 

Misty froze, her heart pounding in her chest. She had heard stories of talking animals, but never had she imagined encountering one, especially not in such a dire situation. She took a step back, but the wolf moved forward, its massive paws silent on the forest floor. 

“Who… who are you?” Misty managed to stammer, her voice barely above a whisper. 

The wolf chuckled. “I am Aldebaran the cruel. And you, little one, seem to be lost.” 

Foxes, wolves, and wild cats emerged from the woods around her, slowly coming toward her. 

Before Misty could react, Aldebaran’s powerful jaws closed gently around her, lifting her off the ground. She wanted to scream, to struggle, but something in the wolf’s eyes told her that resistance was futile.  

“Chain her up with the others.” Were Aldebaran’s commands, as he effortlessly tossed her to a fox. The fox pulled and shoved Misty to his slave line, where he tethered her. Desperation was all that was left for the moment. Misty sank down against a tree and cried.  

“Don’t cry,” The boy in front of her held out his hand to help her up. “You’re Misty, right?” 

“How do you know my name?”  

“You look just like your sister, May. We were all looking for you until I got kidnapped. Of course, everyone else is still looking for you. They’ll find us soon though, I’m sure of it!” 

Aldebaran issued orders to his captains. “Onward! The girl’s sister is too close by for us to stop here.” 

The chain was pulled into action. Misty struggled to keep up. The manacles rubbed against Misty’s wrists, and the pain was too much for her. she started crying again.  

“Don’t give up hope, Misty.” Braden said. “You must have hope, and you must have endurance.” 

“Quiet, you rat!” a cat growled at him. “Do you know what happens to prisoner who misbehave?” 

Misty didn’t want to know. She walked on and tried to ignore the pain. Hope and endurance, she thought. She clung to the hope that May would find her, and endurance would be a lot easier with a friend to endure with her.  

“I know I heard Misty’s voice,” May said, “but why can’t we find her?” 

Nathaniel wasn’t listening. He was still in a state of shock from finding that Braden was missing.  

“I hope Braden and Misty are together somewhere.” Lilly said softly.  

“What was it that Braden said? Home to the paranormal?”  

All of them were freaked out now. Who knows what lives in the forest? What if Braden had been kidnapped? What if both of them had been kidnapped? May’s mind raced as she contemplated the situation, but then what was that??? 

“LOOK!” May screamed. She pointed to a huge dog print in the dirt.  

“There was a big dog here not long ago,” Lilly mused, “And it looks like it was dragging something with it.” 

The three of them looked at each other. None of them said anything, but they were thinking the same thoughts. Braden must have been taken by a massive dog. They followed the tracks, shouting to Misty and Braden, but there wasn’t any answer. The tracks were hard to see in some places, and following them was difficult.  

“haven’t we been here already?” Lilly asked. “it feels like we’ve been going in circles.” 

“No, look!” Nathaniel pointed to the path ahead. “The tracks are changing!” 

The wolf prints were lost beneath those of humans and smaller dogs. May crouched down, examining the faint footprints in the soft earth.  

“They must have gone this way,” she said, her voice filled with determination.  

“We need to hurry,” Nathaniel said, glancing around nervously. “The sun’s setting, and we don’t know what else is out here.” 

Lilly adjusted her backpack and pulled out a small flashlight. “Let’s stick together and keep our eyes open. Misty can’t be far.” 

As they pressed on, the forest seemed to close in around them, the sounds of the night growing louder. Every rustle and snap of a twig made their hearts race, but they didn’t waver. They had to find Misty and Braden. 

Suddenly, Lilly stopped, holding up her hand. “Listen,” she said. The others fell silent, straining to hear. There, faint but unmistakable, was the sound of a distant cry. 

“That’s her!” May exclaimed, her eyes wide with hope. “We have to move faster.” 

With renewed urgency, they quickened their pace, following the sound through the dense underbrush. The trail became more difficult to follow, but May’s determination never wavered.  

After what felt like an eternity, they emerged into a small clearing. There, in the center, stood a massive wolf, its eyes glowing in the dim light.  

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> 

“What did you do with Braden and Misty?” May demanded of Aldebaran.  

“there’s nothing you can do to help them.” He growled. “They aren’t here anymore.” 

“Tell us where you’ve taken them.” Lilly tried. 

“I can’t go any further, so they were passed along to a griffin by the name of Ruby Eyes. She’s as tough as a hydra, and as smart as a sphinx so I wouldn’t even think about following if I were you.” 

“Can’t go any further?” May said under her breath to Lilly and Nathaniel. 

They looked up to see a cloud of smoke swallow the wolf. Their vision went out for a few seconds, and they coughed uncontrollably, but finally the smoke cleared. Aldebaran was gone without a trace. 

“I don’t get it.” May said. “Why did he act like that? Why didn’t he kill us? He even gave us a clue!” 

“I don’t think that he knew he was helping us,” Nathaniel said, “but he helped all the same. We just have to find where he couldn’t go.” 

“But we’re surrounded in trees, he could have gone anywhere!” May said. “There must be something we’re missing.” 

The trio looked around for anything that could help, scouring the clearing and the woods nearby, until Nathaniel found something. 

“Look!” he shouted to May and Lilly.  

“It’s just a log.” Lilly said.  

“No, look,” May said, “see how it has these ancient runes on it? I bet we could fit in it, but the wolf was much too big.” 

“I’m willing to try anything at this point, no matter how foolish it may be.” Nathaniel said. 

Its bark was etched with mysterious symbols, and as they crawled inside, the world around them blurred. Suddenly, they found themselves transformed into tiny mice, whiskers twitching and paws trembling. The new dimension was a place of wonder and danger. May, Lilly and Nathaniel scurried through the grass, their tiny paws sinking into the earth. The hollow log had transported them to a place unlike any they’d ever seen—a world where blades of grass towered like ancient oaks, and petals unfurled into delicate canopies above their heads. 

“We’re mice,” May whispered, her voice a mere squeak. “How is this even possible?” 

Nathaniel’s whiskers twitched as he surveyed their surroundings. “The log,” he said, “it’s a gateway. But why mice?” 

They had no answers, only questions. The forest hummed with secrets—the rustle of leaves, the distant chittering of unseen creatures. Their mission was clear: find Misty and Braden. 

As they ventured deeper, the flora grew stranger. Blades of grass whispered secrets, and dewdrops held reflections of distant constellations. May and Lilly marveled at a spiderweb spun between two towering ferns—it was a silver bridge leading to who knew where. 

“Look!” Nathaniel pointed. “Footprints!” 

Tiny tracks led toward a grove of luminescent mushrooms. May’s heart raced. “They’re here!” she said. “Our siblings!” 

They followed the tracks through the mushrooms, and into a jungle of grass blades. The markings were recent, but they never seemed to end. Just as they thought they would go on forever, the paw prints stopped.  

“What now?” Lilly asked.  

“I’ll tell you what now.” The voice was loud and cold, but they couldn’t see where it came from. “you’re going to have to deal with me now.” An albino ocelot emerged from the grasses, towering over them. She swished her tail mischievously. “I am Falcor Ruby Eyes, feared by all creatures. There is no hope for those who resist me.” 

“Ruby Eyes, as in the terrifying gryphon that the wolf warned us about?” Nathaniel asked. 

“I am a gryphon in your dimension, but we’re in mine now.”  

“But if you’re Ruby Eyes, then you must have Misty and Braden!” Lilly said. 

“My job’s not to learn the prisoners’ names, my job is to get rid of you three.”  

Ruby Eyes thought over her options for how to take care of them.  

“I could eat you, but I wouldn’t want to debase myself by eating a filthy human. . . I could lock you in your own dimension, but where’s the fun in that?” 

May and Lilly were starting to feel sick. Nathaniel held his sister’s paw tightly in his, trying his best to be brave. 

“Maybe I’ll just tie you up and leave you here to starve.” Falcor finally made up her mind.  

She knocked them to the ground with her tail, stunning them. The next thing they knew, they were chained to a big boulder overlooking the sea.  

Misty and Braden meanwhile were headed in a very different direction. They too had gone through the log gate, but Falcor Ruby Eyes faked the paw prints that May, Nathaniel, and Lilly had followed. Ruby Eye’s hoard of ferrets, weasels, and stoats were under strict orders not to let anyone know where they were headed. They rambled through the woods and down into a field.  

“We’re stopping here for the night.” Ruby Eyes announced. “Feed the prisoners and get them some water.” 

The vermin hurried off to do her bidding. Dinner consisted of a few leaves, and a little muddy water. It wasn’t much, but they were glad to get anything at all. Braden and Misty ate their leaves with fortitude, knowing that their siblings were out there looking for them. 

“Braden?” Misty asked quietly, so as not to get in trouble. 

“Yeah?”  

“What if May can’t find us? I know she’ll keep looking for us no matter what, but looking is no help if she doesn’t find us, right?” 

“Don’t worry Misty. She has Nathaniel and Lilly with her. If it makes you feel better, I think I have a good plan to get us out of here.” 

“A plan is still a plan, whether or not it’s a good one.” Misty said. “What are you thinking?” 

“If we can once get out of these manacles, we can go anywhere!” 

“But how can we get out?” 

Braden held up a small dagger he had taken from a stoat. 

“With this!” 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> 

“What are we going to do?” Lilly moaned. “We’ve been stuck here for hours!” Lilly was starting to cry. 

“Lilly, you’re seventeen. You don’t need to cry.” Nathaniel chided her. 

“You’re not helping, Nathaniel.” May said. “We need to think positively. Without positivity we can’t think straight.” 

“Positivity?” Lilly said. “Let’s see. We’re chained to a rock…” 

“Lilly!” May shouted. 

“I’m sorry, let’s try again. We weren’t eaten by an evil red eyed ocelot-griffin,” 

“That’s better I guess.”  

“STOP! LOOK!” Nathaniel said. “there’s a shrew coming towards us!” 

The little rodent weaved between the surroundings, slowly making it’s way to the rock. It looked like it was limping slightly. When it got to the boulder, it stopped and pulled a few tools out of a bag it carried at its waist. 

“Don’t worry,” He said, “I can get you out of here. Try to hold still.” 

I didn’t take long for the shrew to cut the chains. Lilly stretched her arms and her back, it felt so good to be free again. It was starting to get dark again, and May was tired from, well, everything.  

“Why don’t we go down to my house?” the shrew said. “We can all get some much needed sleep.” 

This sounded like a great idea to May, and Lilly and Nathaniel couldn’t think of anything better. 

“We can’t very well out smart an ocelot-griffin without any sleep.” Lilly said to Nathaniel. 

“Or on an empty stomach.” The shrew said. 

That settled it. The three of them followed the shrew a short way to his house; a small door set in a tree. As they arrived, the shrew’s wife and three daughters came out to meet them. For dinner the shrew’s wife made ‘shrew bread’, which was kind of like dinner rolls, and a soup made from potato, carrot, and mushroom. They only needed a bit of each. They hadn’t slept in a bed of any sort since leaving to find Misty, so that night was the best for all of them. They planned to set out again the next morning, but before they leaft, Mrs. shrew brought them some provisions. 

“I know you three haven’t had much to eat for the last few days,” she said, “so I packed you some food for the road.” 

Mr. shrew came out of the house now. 

“Hold on!” He ran toward them frantically. “I have something here that might help you!” He pulled out a ball of string from his pocket and handed it to Nathaniel. Nathaniel was pretty confused. “it’s a gate.” The shrew said.  

“Like the log we came through to get here?” Lilly asked. The shrew nodded. “But how does it work? It doesn’t have an opening like the log did.”  

“No two gates are the same. With this one you have to loop it around itself to create the opening.” 

Nathaniel accepted the gift gratefully. Now they were off again! They were soon on Ruby’s trail once more, and it was pretty easy going most of the way. After a while, May thought she could see the group of vermin on the horizon. Then she could smell them. As they approached, May noticed that neither Braden, Misty, or Ruby Eyes was there.  

“Let’s stay hidden and watch until they get back.” Lilly said. 

Misty’s tiny heart raced as she and Braden darted through the tangled underbrush, their paws barely making a sound. The moon hung low in the sky, casting eerie shadows on the forest floor. Behind them, the menacing figure of Ruby Eyes, the albino ocelot, loomed like a ghost. 

Ruby Eyes had been relentless in her pursuit. Her crimson eyes glowed with malice, and her sleek white fur seemed to blend seamlessly with the moonlight.  

Misty’s whiskers quivered as she glanced back.  They had managed to slip away once, but Ruby Eyes was relentless. Braden and Misty knew they couldn’t outrun her forever. 

“Keep going,” Braden urged, his voice barely audible. “We can’t let her catch us.” 

Misty nodded, her eyes wide with fear. They zigzagged through the forest, leaping over small sticks, and ducking beneath fallen leaves. The scent of damp earth and pine needles filled the air. But no matter how fast they ran, Ruby Eyes was always close behind. 

Suddenly, Misty stumbled, her tiny paw caught in a tangle of roots. Braden skidded to a halt, his eyes wide with panic. He rushed to Misty’s side, trying to help her up in time. Ruby Eyes emerged from the shadows, her fangs gleaming. 

“You thought you could escape me?” Ruby Eyes hissed, her voice like shards of ice. “Foolish humans.” 

Misty’s heart sank. She had hoped they could find safety, perhaps a hidden burrow where Ruby Eyes couldn’t reach them. But now they were trapped. 

The ferrets, weasels, and stoats closed in. Misty and Braden huddled together, their fur bristling. Ruby Eyes circled them, her tail flicking with anticipation. 

“Any last words?” Ruby Eyes taunted. 

But just as she lunged, a rustling sound echoed through the forest. A massive owl swooped down at Falcor; talons extended. 

“Enough, cat.” The owl’s voice boomed. “You know your orders are to bring them to Lord Rigel alive.” 

Ruby Eyes snarled, but the owl’s gaze held her in check.  

“Noserot, Foulclaw, re-chain the mice.” She snapped at a ferret and a stoat. Then she turned to the owl. “Stay out of this, Feather bag. I can handle a couple of ten-year-olds.” 

“Yes, but can you handle Lord Rigel?” They glared at each other for a second. “I didn’t think so.” 

“Let’s get out of here.” Ruby Eyes commanded indignantly.  

Misty and Braden were dragged all the way back to the slave line. By the time they got there they were both bruised and scratched painfully. The line was immediately pulled into action. 

“Look, they’re back!” Nathaniel said. “Let’s follow behind them.”  

Lilly pulled out the leftover shrew bread and some sunflower seeds to snack on.  

“We’ll need to be careful,” May said, “if we get caught, we’ll be a completely lost cause.” 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> 

Ruby Eyes and her crew of vermin were headed for her lair, an old (and mostly ruined) castle fortress. On arriving, the ocelot issued orders to the ferrets, stoats, and weasels, sending them here and there, wherever she wanted or needed them. None of them noticed May, Nathaniel, and Lilly watching their every move. 

“We need a good, solid plan before we do anything rash.” Nathaniel whispered.  

“We have got to work together.” May said. “This will be really hard even if we can find a weakness.” 

“But we’re mice,” Nathaniel said, “she’s six times taller than we are! Besides, I don’t think ocelot-griffins have any weaknesses.”  

“Don’t be silly, you guys.” Lilly put in. “the answer’s in her name!” 

“Which one? Falcor? Ruby Eyes?” Nathaniel asked. 

“Ruby Eyes! Don’t you see it?” they didn’t. “Why do they call her that? Because she has red eyes. Why does she have red eyes? Because she’s an albino!” 

“And…” May said. 

“An albino animal’s weakness is her eyes!” 

May and Nathaniel looked at her with admiration.  

“What?” Lilly asked. “Didn’t either of you pay attention in your zoology classes?”  

Braden and Misty were scared. Their chains were tied up to a post in what could hardly be called a castle courtyard. The cold was beginning to be unbearable.  

“Braden?” Misty asked. 

“Yeah?” 

“Do you still think that May and your brother and sister are looking for us?” 

“I don’t think, Misty, I know they are.” 

“But do you think they’ll find us?” 

Braden didn’t know what to say. He really wanted to think they would, but he hadn’t seen any of them in such a long time! Maybe they were completely lost! But he couldn’t say that to Misty.  

“I think… everything is going to be okay.” Braden said. “They won’t give up until they find us, and until then, at least we’re together.” 

Misty smiled. She was very glad to have a friend with her. She didn’t think she could have survived this without Braden.  

It was getting dark again. The days and nights in this dimension were off somehow, with some days longer, some shorter, the sun and moon were always discordant. Most of the vermin went inside the castle to get some sleep, but a few were stationed outside and on the walls. One weasel brought the prisoners some old, smelly blankets. ‘Tomorrow, we leave bright and early’ he had said. They were starting to wonder when this would ever end. Still, no one knew where they were going. Misty and Braden had overheard something about a ‘Lord Rigel’, but who that was was a mystery to them. Soon most of the posted guards were asleep, and Braden and Misty were not far behind.  

May, Lilly, and Nathaniel on the other hand were alert, looking for their chance to get back their siblings. The plan was simple, but it would be difficult. They still had the chain that Falcor used to tie them to the rock. That was the best that they had in the way of weapons. Nathaniel looked in a hole in the outer wall. 

“Ruby Eyes is standing right there!” he whispered, stifling a scream. 

“Looks like this will be harder than we thought.” May said. 

“It can still work.” Lilly said. 

With Falcor guarding Misty and Braden herself, May needed to rethink her plan. With Lilly and Nathaniel helping though, it didn’t take long. 

Misty and Braden were roused for their sleep by some movement in a cluster of ferns nearby. Misty started trembling.  

“Braden, what do you think that is?” 

She was getting really nervous. Then a stone came hurling out of the ferns and struck Ruby Eyes on the shoulder. She turned to see who was there. Lilly emerged from the foliage and rushed at Falcor. May and Nathaniel appeared on either side of the wildcat, Nathaniel with the chain, and May with the flashlight. Lilly sent pebbles and gravel flying in Falcor’s face. Ruby knew that they had found her weakness, but she couldn’t keep the blinding light and the gravel out of her eyes. All of a sudden, she couldn’t see a thing. The sharp pain of a heavy chain hurled at her fore paws. She tried to scream to alert the guards, but she had lost her voice entirely. The big ocelot fell unconscious to the ground. May rushed to her sister and hugged her like a bear. Nathaniel and Lilly cried when they saw Braden again. Nathaniel pulled the post that Misty and Braden were chained to out of the ground, freeing them. They still had to be quiet, so as not to wake the surrounding vermin. May and Lilly tied the string in a loop and held it up for Misty and Braden to go through. They knew better than to question it. Then Nathaniel went through, and finally May and Lilly ducked under, letting the gate close behind them. 

They found themselves back on the beach. May was relieved when she looked down to see actual human hands! Now they were back, they could shout, cry, scream, and talk, and joy filled the air as they celebrated being together again!  

A few days later, Mr. Hawthorne arrived on board a ship called Pearl Queen.  

“I heard that Waterwing was blown off course and landed here, so I came to look for you.” 

‘Somebody twisted the truth’ May thought, but she was glad to see him again.  

“Mom’s feeling better,” he said, “the doctor says she’ll be able to come home soon.” 

May smiled. Mrs. Hawthorne had been in the hospital far away for a long time. When they had sent for Dad, they were afraid something terrible had happened to her. That was why he sent Misty and May to stay at their aunt’s house (where they never arrived).  

May And Misty were going home the next day, which meant they had to say goodbye to the Valors.  

“You will write to us, won’t you?” Lilly asked May. 

“Of course.” She said. “And you’ll come and visit now and then?” 

“Yes, we’ll try.” Lilly answered. “Oh, I almost forgot!” She gave May the locket she had left in her room. 

May opened it. Lilly had put in a new picture of all of them together. May smiled and put it on. 

“I love it.” She said. 

The End

Writing Challenge Winner: Painting the Stars by K. Ann

K. Ann is an eighteen-year old writer who completed the 2024 Hero’s Journey Writing Challenge in which she wrote a 5,000 word original short story.

Author Bio:

As the daughter of a Marine, K.Ann grew up in a world near yet strange, her experiences influencing her writing. Going from writing almost every genre to narrowing it down to one specific niche, she writes young adult contemporary and historical fantasy with hints of dystopian. When she’s not writing, you can find her touring her favorite fantasy worlds and her local libraries.

You can connect with her by signing up to her email list https://kannwriter.myflodesk.com/z8s2ldayio, as well as on Pinterest as @kannwriter and Havok Publishing, where she works on the operations team.

Read K. Ann’s original short story, Painting the Stars, below!

I tighten my hoodie, hunching against the sheets of rain pounding my back. My glasses fog for a second, and the auto cleaner function kicks in, clearing the fog as if it had never been there. Good thing I saved and splurged on them. I can see again.

I stare at the gray sidewalk. There was a time when there was color, when there was more than only shades of gray. A time before the Rift.

Not that I remember it. There’s been no color for decades.

I have no idea why, honestly. Why anything with color is illegal. But that’s the North American sector for you. There’s rumors that the South American sector has color, but that’s just it: a rumor. With the borders surrounded by a border of solid darkness, there’s no getting in or out.

I don’t meet anyone’s eyes. I’m pretty sure thinking such treacherous thoughts is illegal.

And there are people who can get access to mind reading devices—if they pay enough.

I just need to be inconspicuous.

My sneakers splash in a deep puddle, and I groan. Water seeps through, and my socks squelch as I take another step. They’re sopping. If only I wasn’t a broke runaway orphan, maybe I could afford hovershoes. But no, all I can get are regular, pre-historic sneakers.

My feet squish as I trudge up the stairs to my apartment. I place my thumb on the doorknob, and the door illuminates for the briefest of seconds. It opens, and I am met with a sparse, drab room. This building used to be a really nice hotel—at least, it was before the Rift. Now, it is one of thousands of apartments rented cheaply since it has none of the amenities the

rich folk have. Like a stove that cooks for you and seasons the food exactly to your taste if you code it to your DNA. That sort of thing.

I close the door behind me and hurry into my bedroom. All I want to do is collapse on my little cot in the corner of the room. But first, I hurry to my closet, yanking out a dry hoodie. One of those automatic drying machines sure would be nice on days like today.

But alas.

After I pull on the hoodie, I rifle through the back of my closet, glancing behind me, praying nobody can see through the walls with the latest x-ray vision goggles. Shoving aside piles of laundry that I’m saving my decis to wash, I unearth a lockbox.

Historically speaking, it’s a safe. But today, safes are locked and unlocked using DNA, not spin dials. So I call it a lockbox.

It’s so ancient that, if authorities ever knock on my door, they won’t be able to unlock it. Or so I hope. I have no clue what technology official investigators have, anyway. Or if they’d be able to use a software to discover the code.

I unlock it—459—and pull out my most prized possessions.

A set of paint and a sketchpad.

The curtains are drawn, and my door is bolted. I’m safe. Or as safe as you can be when you participate in illegal activities in the North American sector.

I sit on the linoleum floor and open the sketchbook to a new page. I’m never quite sure what I’m going to paint until I start, especially since I have never seen anything with color. It’s amazing, really, that pure paint survived the Rift untainted and lasted so many decades.

I wet my brush and select a dusty rose color. I’ve never seen the color of a rose, but it is the color I imagine they are—a pink that seems slightly darker than a normal pink, which is several shades lighter than this current paint. I brush it along the whole canvas.

I then choose a deep eggplant color—it’s probably lighter than a normal eggplant, but it’s the closest I have to what I imagine an eggplant looks like—and mix it with the pink in large strokes.

I choose color after color, and it doesn’t take long to realize I’ve painted something I’ve never seen before except in gray shades—and in my dreams.

A breathtaking sunset.

***

I scan the bag of chips someone has set in front of me, not meeting their eyes. “12 hectos.” They place their hand on the sensor, using the chip implanted there to make their payment. I place the chips in a bag and hand it to them, never once looking at them.

I’m a cashier at the Econautic Fuel station (which sells economically friendly fuel made from completely water).

I only made about 15 hectos an hour, but working ten-hour days at least pays for my apartment and a few packets of ramen, even leaving me a little extra.

Extra for the White Market.

Another person waits behind the one I just checked out. I scan his items, and he pays in real coin.

“Here’s your four centis change.” I place the coins in his hands. “Have a nice day.” “Thank you…” his voice trails off, and I glance up, wondering what he’s staring at. He’s reading my name badge. “Marita.”

“It’s just Rita.” My eyes drop once more to scrutinize the dusty counter. Why did I just say that? I never say anything to anyone beside social niceties.

“Rita, you want color, don’t you?” His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper.

I drop the hectos he gave me, and they clatter against the register. “Are you insane?” I hiss, my eyes frantically looking at the security bots that can transcribe lip movements.

He raises an eyebrow and taps his glasses. My jaw drops.

He has a mind reading device.

And I just met his eyes.

He’s going to turn me in for the reward of 312 kilos.

That’s ten years of wages right there.

I swallow a little and take a step back, bumping into the mini fridge behind me that holds grown-up drinks. It clatters, the display on top falling to the ground with a loud crash. I scramble to pick it up, my heart racing as my fists clench involuntarily. I need to get out of here. I have to run. Hide. Perhaps move to a different region entirely.

I might even have find a smuggler willing to help me illegally leave the North American sector.

“Excuse me, mam…”

I look up, and a woman with a child on her hip holds out a couple bags of chips.

I smooth my face so that there are no worry lines showing and straighten. “I’m sorry for the delay.” I scan her items, she scans her hand over the sensor, and then I’m alone.

The man is no longer here. Only one thing is. A note.

It says, Meet me at the northern corner on the east side of the White Market at midnight.

***

I’m not sure what I’m expecting, exactly. On all accounts, it would probably be safer to book it and leave town. So why am I sticking around?

That note. It’s somewhat ominous, almost as if my doom is impending. And yet, here I wait, at the northern corner on the east side of the White Market, a little before midnight. The White Market opens at 1 am and closes at 3 am. And I’m here, skulking about before it opens.

Second, why is a man who knows how I long for color to be back in the world not turning me in for the reward?

Curse my curious mind.

I hunch over, blowing on my numb fingers to warm them up. I tug my hood up over my head and draw my hands into my sleeves, then stick them in my pockets.

The distant ding of the Mountain Region clock rings through the air. It’s midnight.

I peer into the darkness. Midnight in the North American sector is dreary, with no stars to paint the sky. I glance up at the eternal expanse, wishing I could see the Milky Way, the starry system I only read about in science books when I was in school.

I’m about ready to forget it and leave—both the White Market and the Mountain Region, potentially the North American sector altogether.

But something stops me.

A figure, darker than the rest of the darkness, approaches. I hesitantly take a step back, furtively glancing around me in hopes that someone—anyone—might be there. In hopes that someone will witness what is about to happen.

But nothing. The White Market won’t open for another hour.

The figure is fast approaching, and I can make out his face a little. It’s the man from the station, the one who accused me of wanting color then left a creepy note.

My breath comes so fast and so thick that it fogs my glasses, and the auto-cleaner function has to work double-time to clear it.

“Rita.” The man stops right in front of me. I don’t meet his eyes, but I take in his figure. He’s not super imposing—rather short for a man, about my height. His cheeks are speckled with freckles.

He lowers his hood, and I see his hair is a deep shade—not a gray, but not solid black either. And, not to mention, the fact that he is wearing mind-reading glasses—they sort of look like the mythological Harry Potter glasses.

I force a little smile and take a small step backward. I don’t lower my hood, but I do remove my hands from my pockets so I can fight if need be. “Who are you?”

He is quiet a moment. “My name is of little consequence.”

“I should think not. A name is important. It’s who you are as a person.” Then I clap my hand over my mouth. I can’t believe I just said that, especially not in a time where names are not important and your entire being is shoved into the 28 digit number listed in the chip in your hand. You don’t just go shouting out that names are important when, to the leaders of the North American sector, they’re not.

“Be that as it may.” He clears his throat and glances around again. “Time is short. I need to know where your allegiance lies.”

I stifle a gasp. “W-why, to President Volton, of course.” I salute as I say his name—just like any other citizen would.

He raises an eyebrow. “Really, Rita, I’d think you wouldn’t be such a liar.” “I-I…” I swallow down the lump of fear rising in my throat. “I’m no liar.” “Then why will you not meet my eyes?”

Why indeed?

He sighs. “I’ll be straight with you. You know of the Rift, right?”

Obviously. Everyone knows about how President Volton fifty-eight years ago realized how color influenced people’s minds and made them more susceptible to rebellion. And thus, he went on a journey to discover how to separate color from the world because, without color, there would be no rebellion, and thus less death.

I don’t buy that propaganda, but I give a nod. “We all learned it in grade school.”

He shakes his head. “A bunch of lies. Written by a bunch of liars.” He gives me a wry smile. “Like you.”

I jerk my head and death glare him. “Am not.”

“Are to.” He taps his glasses again, and I grow cold. I did it. Again. Let him read my thoughts.

“What do you want from me?” I whisper.

“That, Rita, is something only you can answer. How badly do you want color into the world?” I dare myself to meet his eyes again, and he reads the answer. “Just as I suspected.” His voice drops to a whisper, and he says, “Let me help you, and together, we will bring color back into the world.”

I give an almost imperceptible nod.

He smiles. “You can call me Orion. Like the hunter who crushes the scorpion.” Oh dear. What have I gotten myself into?

***

The plan is simple: infiltrate Obsidian Holdings, retrieve the famous paintings Starry Night and the Mona Lisa. Each member of the Phoenix Squad has been assigned specific paintings to find there.

The problem with the heist? Oh, the usual—Obsidian Holdings is the largest protection facility for art—mostly, they hold paintings. Other places—like Shadow Holdings or Twilight Holdings—protect the books.

Or, should I say, imprison.

I swallow a gulp as I shudder. Cloaked in darkness, this heist is doomed from the start. Even I know that. It’s not well thought out, for one. Because who plans 27 heists to steal 54 artifacts on the same night?

The dumbo ringleader Scorpius, that’s who. We all have code names and hide our identity, covering anything that might give access to our DNA. So, gloves, hair coverings, face obscurers, the works.

I’m called Sun now. Not Rita anymore. Protection of privacy, or so they say. But I don’t trust Orion to not share that if something better comes his way. I don’t trust him.

Come to think of it, I don’t trust anyone anymore, not since my parents were killed when I was three for secretly writing novels and circulating them to the entire sector.

They were dumbos for being rebels. And here I am, a rebel.

I’m a dumbo.

Sun, do you read? It’s a neurotransmitter installed in my inner ear. It reads my direct thoughts and transmits them back to Orion, who then sends it to Scorpius. And so on and so forth.

I really cannot manage my thoughts right now. Even though anyone could have a mind reading device, and I’m allowing myself to remain completely jumbled inside.

I read. I squint at the window below me—I’m standing on the roof of Obsidian Holdings. Or perhaps I should say I’m laying on the roof of Obsidian Holdings because that is what I’m actually doing. I’m watching the night guards doing their circulations and timing how much time is between them while Scorpius does his hacking thing to take down the cameras inside.

Then begin phase 2.

I roll my eyes and carefully raise the window. No alarms go off, so Scorpius must have pulled through. One advantage to having a master hacker during a heist.

Carefully, carefully I lower myself into the building, changing the settings on my borrowed hovershoes so that I change the surrounding gravity gradually.

One thing for sure about this rebel circle: I get nice gear, better than I ever got as a runaway orphan working at an Econautic Fuel Station.

I peer around, pulling my black hood over my head. I’m wearing a face obscurer, so that if I’m caught nobody will recognize me. Hopefully. Hackers are everywhere, and if someone has a mind reading device, all is lost.

I slowly step down the hall, making my way to one of the galleries.

This is the one. Stop here. The first one is hidden in here.

I approach the door and stop. DNA scanner.

I’ve already removed the sensor. Just go in.

I turn the doorknob and enter the room, glancing around me. I hear steps coming my way, and I quickly shut the door as the guards come into view. Hiding behind a large, ornate vase, I hold my breath as someone marches into the room, does a once-over, and leaves.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I step out of my position. I have seven minutes, more or less, to find the painting Scorpius wants and hide before they’re back.

Describe the painting. I scan the room, searching for something in this room. There is little color here, but there is some. And some means some hope. Hope that color can seep back into this room, this region, this sector. Starting with this painting.

There is a dark black tree-like image that is the focal point, but that is not the main part of the painting. Imagine swirls of glorious colors, with a bright gold sun in the shape of a moon.

A bright gold sun in the shape of a moon? What in the North American sector is that supposed to mean? But I don’t directly think those thoughts because I don’t want Orion to hear them and send them to Scorpius. Will I actually see glorious colors and a bright gold sun?

Perhaps. But perhaps not. Just look for something like what I described. Vague. Obscure observations. Sure I can. My eyes scan the room, searching for something. There are a lot of paintings with hints of color seeping from them, but they’re honestly not very pretty paintings. Probably confiscated from inexperienced painters.

Kinda brilliant, though, hiding a brilliant painting with not-brilliant paintings.

I start peaking behind the stands, looking for something. I’m still not really sure what I’m looking for, though.

And then I see it.

Something so vibrant it hurts my eyes.

I thought my paints were bright, but that is incomparable to this.

The swirls seem to engulf each other, dancing across the canvas over the little town and the tall dark structure.

And the sun! The bright gold sun that looks like a moon doesn’t even begin to describe the majesty. It looks like it is reflected in a water-borne sky with a ripple effect, blending seamlessly into the mystical background.

My hand reaches out to touch it. And that’s when I hear it.

“What are you doing here?”

I whirl around, and there is a guard there, holding a laser taser. “Just taking a little peek. I’ll just be going now.” My hands pick up the painting and hold it behind my back as I slowly inch to the side.

Sun, what is the status report?

Shut up! My mind hisses. I’ve been caught, doofus! I told you this plan was doomed from the start.

Sun, what happened?

I ignore the probing questions and continue my side step. “I just got lost. I’d best be leaving.”

The guard approaches. “You’re not going anywhere.” His eyes try to focus on my face, but he can’t see me well—his pupils go in and out of focus as he tries to see my features.

I grip the painting behind me. I can’t lose this breathtaking piece of art.

The guard shoots the laser, and I dodge it, the painting falling from my hands and skidding across the ground. I leap to my feet and whirl around, the laser shooting toward me again.

I arch my back, and it shoots right past me as I leap through the air toward the guard, knocking straight into him.

He’s out like a lightbulb.

“Oh no, oh no, did I kill him?” I gasp, staring open mouth. But then I realize I can’t just stand here; they’re going to find me. I’ve got to get out of here.

Sun, Sun, do you read?

I ignore the probing and start running, scooping up the painting and turning on my hovershoes as I go. Soon I’m half walking, half flying as I dash toward the open window.

And that’s when a laser hits the obscurer on my face. And a security bot flash blinds me. Oh no oh no oh no. I turn the hovershoes on to the highest setting.

I break through the window, gripping the painting tight, as lasers soar past me into the night sky.

I fly off into the night, just as I see a picture of my face and the words “Wanted: Marita

Davis, 312 kilos” form in the sky.

***

“Sun, what the blazes were you thinking?”

Orion is mad—like, blazing mad. I don’t meet his eyes, since I don’t want him to read my traitorous thoughts to both the North American sector as well as the rebellion, but I can see it in the hardened lines of his jaw.

“What the blazes was I thinking? Fulfilling a dumb mission, what do you expect?” I roll my eyes to the painting in my arms. The colors seem to swirl, filling my vision with beauty. “It was doomed from the start—that many heists in one night is a horrible idea.”

Orion rubs his head. “It was all a farse. The missing paintings were a distraction. You could have left them! And instead you got caught, and we got compromised.”

“Sorry.” I fight surprise but feign sarcasm. “Must’ve missed the memo.”

“Duh. Scorpius was using that opportunity to hack into the government’s security banks to find the secret to how they keep color locked up!”

I glance at the painting in my hands. “They haven’t done a good job of it.”

Orion rubs his temples then sits down on a bench, leaning against the muddy gray building. “There’s a reason for that.”

I plant a hand on my hip, then remember the painting and straighten so as to not soil it. “A reason? How could—” Remembering to play it cool, I rephrase what I was saying. “Why would the government not get rid of color if they could?”

“No, no, no, not that sort of reason.” Orion takes the painting from my hands, and I clench my fists, biting my tongue to keep from yelling at him to give it back. I feel sort of… empty without it. He examines it closely and shakes his head. “The key, my dear Rita, is creativity. And you just broadcasted yourself—and the painting—to the entire nation!”

“Sun.” I reach out and touch the painting, feeling a surge of something run through my fingers. “Sorry. And creativity? What is that?”

“Think of your parents, Rita.” His brows furrow at me, his tone calming as he sees me touching the painting. He pulls it slightly away again, and my body grows cold. “Think of the artist of this painting. Think of yourself. What do you all have in common?”

And that’s when I understand—my parents could not be suppressed. Their life work, their creativity could not be stopped. They had to write, like I had to paint. Just like the artist had topaint this starry night.

Creativity. It’s powerful.

I touch the painting again with a renewed spirit. Light pours out of the painting and into me, streaming through my consciousness and into my very soul. The world seems to explode around me, weaving together in streams of majesty I have never seen before except in weak imitations.

Color.

It’s in me, around me, through me.

It doesn’t matter that I’m a wanted criminal.

What does matter is sharing this beauty with the rest of the sector.

I stare at Orion, and he nods at me. “Rita, you have the gift of creativity—don’t let them take it from you. If those few with creativity are silenced, then there is no hope for restoration of the sector.” He stares into my eyes—his brown eyes with flecks of gold in them. “Will you join me?”

“I’ve already done so,” I say, my eyes taking in his entire personage. His dusty brown hair, his eyes that match, his pale freckled skin, his pinkish lips

I think I want to kiss those lips.

I shake my head to clear that strange urge as Orion continues speaking. “Not that rebellion—the inner rebellion, where we share creativity with the world. I don’t care about hacking and stealing and setting fires. I want to restore the sector. Will you join me, Rita?”

I meet his eyes once more, removing my gaze from his lips. “Yes, Orion, I will help you.” His eyes bore into my own. “It’s not Orion. It’s Dustin.”

I smile. That’s the perfect name for him. “What do we do first, Dustin?”

***

Color seems to spring from my every step. Everywhere, there is overwhelming, swirling colors.

And Dustin can see it, too. I know that now. His desire for a rebellion to overwhelm the world, his mind-reading device so he can find those who are sympathizers to the cause and who might have the gift of creativity inside, his joining with a dumb revolution leader so that he can gain access to art that can cause the spark of creativity in someone to burn to an inferno.

And now, it’s my turn.

I can’t get into my apartment because my DNA will entrap me and garner authorities to the scene, but I don’t need my paint to do this.

All I need is a touch. This one singular painting might not be enough, but it will be the spark. The spark to bring color back.

“Scorpius, we need you to hack into the government broadcasting system.” Dustin stands, leaning against the leader’s desk.

Scorpius rolls his eyes. “Not happening. They’ve blocked my signals.”

I narrow my eyes, crossing my arms and staring him down. “Guess you’re not a master hacker, then.”

“Guess not.”

Blazes. Reverse psychology didn’t work.

“For goodness’ sake. Move over.” I push his arm, and when he doesn’t budge from his chair, I grab his computer mouse and start scrolling. I have no clue how to hack, but maybe this will get him to help us.

I start clicking and clacking away, and Scorpius huffs. “You’re ruining my algorithms.” “Your algorithms, huh?” I highlight a section of code and hover my finger over the ‘delete’ button. “You going to help us or am I going to delete this?”

“Fine, I’ll help you. I can scramble the signal and get you access to the broadcasting system.” He grabs my hand and yanks it aside, and Dustin looks about ready to blow when he sees the man touching me. But Scorpius just grabs the mouse and the pad and starts frantically typing and muttering to himself, strings of code pouring forth from his fingers. “Get ready. What are you broadcasting?”

“This.” Dustin holds up the painting. “Make this the entire sky.” Scorpius’s eyebrows raise. “All over the sector?”

“All over the sector.” I narrow my eyes. “Unless I need to destroy your code?”

“Nope, I got this.” Scorpius takes a little scanner camera thing, and a laser light scans the painting and deposits the image as code into the system.

“We need to have our voices hooked up to the system,” I say. “As soon as you start broadcasting the painting.”

Scorpius’s face goes pale. “They’ll be able to track us if we do that.”

Dustin interjects. “Do it.” The determination in his voice strengthens me. I’m a wanted criminal, but this is worth the risk.

Scorpius mutters something intelligible, then starts typing frantically. He pulls a recorder device from a drawer and connects it to the computer. “Start talking. I’m broadcasting. We have less than ten minutes before they can trace the signal and five minutes for them to get here.”

I grab the device and start talking. “Hello, citizens of the North American Sector. My name is Marita Davis, and I’m a lot like you—someone who has something to hide from the government.”

Dustin takes the mic. “I am Dustin Skies. I seek to remedy the problems that the government has infringed on us. Namely, the dystopian world they have perpetrated in locking up creativity.”

I take over. “Look at the sky. Look at the stars painted in the sky. The colors. The vividness of them. Look what we’re missing. Look at the intricacy of it, and consider this: why has the government locked up color?”

“They’ve traced us,” Scorpius hisses, frantically tapping away as his brow sweats.

“So we don’t get the idea to rebel against them!” Dustin exclaims. He is also sweating. “And has that worked? No! They’ve locked up our paintings, our books, our creativity, and to what end? We’re rebelling anyway!”

Clattering noises ring through the building, and I bite my lip. But I can’t freeze now. My voice gains strength as I continue. “Authorities are on the way here to stop us right now. But our voices will not be silenced. Our words will not be stopped. Look at the stars painted in the sky! Let that creativity abound inside you.”

The door crashes open, and someone screams, “Hands in the air or you’re getting tased!” “Don’t let your voices be silenced!” Dustin cries. “Don’t let your creativity be squelched!”

“I’ve lost the signal!” Scorpius yells.

“Silence!”

The room swarms with officials, and I grab Dustin’s hand. He turns to me and wraps his arms around me, his lips pressing hard against mine for a split second before the officials grab our arms and wrench us apart.

“Don’t tell them anything!” Dustin screams. Someone tases him, and he slumps to the floor, unconscious.

I make myself go limp, but I don’t fight. Neither does Scorpius, other than reaching out his finger to his the “delete all” button on his computer. And he gets tased for that.

I touch my lips, and they take us away.

The End.

Writing Challenge Winner: Lifeguard to the Rescue by Bella Johnson

Bella Johnson is a thirteen-year old writer who participated in the Summer 2023 Elemental Writing Challenge in which she wrote a 5,000 word original short story this summer. Bella’s contemporary adventure introduces readers to Scarlett, a girl struggling to care of her ill mother, balance her complex friend groups, and decide what to do about a mysterious magical object offered to her by an even more mysterious sorcerer.

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Original drawing of the main character, Scarlett

We began in an indoor pool with nobody there, the perfect place for 2, 14 year old girls to work. When the new aquatics center opened up nobody wanted to come to the old aquatics center. The girls’ names were Mia and Scarlett. Mia was a tall girl, with brown hair that was dyed blue at the tips. She had on a red swimsuit and Scarlett had a green. Scarlett was a little bit shorter, with red hair dyed with silver tips, she also had green eyes.

“What are you doing tonight Scarlett?”

“Same thing I do every night Mia. I have to look over my mother and watch my sisters. Sorry, I can’t do anything tonight either.”

“Are you going to hang out with me ever, I remember before your mother got sick. We used to hang out all the time. I miss that.”

“We are hanging out right now, wanna race?”

“Nah, remember the last time we raced?”

Scarlett thought about the last time they raced, she just found out that her mother was sick. She also remembered getting stuck in the water and almost drowned, but thanks to the lifeguards they saved her. That’s why she became a lifeguard.

“Yes, I remember.”

“Hey it’s time for me to go home, you got close up again?”

“Yeah, just be careful. I heard your sisters are at it again.”

“Aren’t they always? I will talk to you later bye.”

Scarlett changed out of her swimsuit into her school outfit putting on her most boring jacket. She turned in everything about that day and clock out. On her walk home, Scarlett could not stop thinking about how boring her life is. She can’t hang out with any of her friends unless her father is home or Grandma or Grandpa could come over and help out. When she got home she heard yelling inside the house. She stayed outside for a couple of minutes, before going into the crazy house.

Continue reading “Writing Challenge Winner: Lifeguard to the Rescue by Bella Johnson”

Writing Challenge Winner: Summer by Kayley Roach

Kayley Roach is a 14-year old writer who participated in the Summer 2023 Elemental Writing Challenge in which she wrote a 5,000 word original short story this summer. Kayley’s contemporary romance follows the character, Kay, a high school senior preparing to graduate. Kay’s anxiety about the future manifests into strange mystical sensations amplified by the growing tension with her friend, Skye, who claims that Kay’s boyfriend cannot be trusted.

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11:58am – After School

Sometimes, I wish I was a whole different person. I mean, I never really did ask to be who I am. All I know is that I was magically here one day and I’ve been living my life like this ever since.

I guess I decided not to do what I wanted and stay in bed till noon, but I guess I had to be there, you know. To say goodbye. If it weren’t for my best friend convincing me to come, I’d never have realized why I was being asked to come. 

If only I had stayed home… in my warm bed, writing my stories at home. But no. Instead, I had to go to school, even though it was only for two and a half hours. What was the point? Was the last day of school really that important? All I knew was that I didn’t want to go back… Ever.

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Writing Challenge Winner: Bringleclaw and the Cursed Pearl by Layla Mendoza

Layla Mendoza is a thirteen-year old writer who participated in the Summer 2023 Elemental Writing Challenge in which she wrote a 5,000 word original short story this summer. Layla’s fantasy adventure tells the tale of Bringleclaw, a curmudgeonly villain desperate to return the flourishing kingdom of Betom back to the old ways, and a group of unlikely misfits determined to stop him.

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 Chapter 1: Bringleclaw  

Far away, in a place that humans have scarcely seen, there was a kingdom called Betom, that had beautiful emerald green hills, sparkling bubbling brooks, tall, multi-colored trees that only you and I can dream of, and most of all: Magic. The magic that lived here dwelled everywhere, not just in the magical beings, but in the land itself, tucked away into the darkest corner, the smallest thorn, even small, unsuspecting insects! 

And you can only imagine how joyous the creatures that lived here were! The elves often held grand feasts and dances. The goblins, as fierce as they might seem, liked to play wondrous music when they were feeling especially happy and even the smallest fairies would go about, joining in any festivities they could. Of course, it wasn’t always like this. In the ancient days, the Goblins liked to cause all sorts of mischief, wreaking havoc in not only their own realm, but as many others as possible. 

But festivities and joyous occasions were the daily life for the citizens of Betom, and it went on for many years – the same things, the same celebrations.  But then one day, everything changed. 

Continue reading “Writing Challenge Winner: Bringleclaw and the Cursed Pearl by Layla Mendoza”

Writing Challenge Winner: The Villain, the Traitor, and the Daredevil by Isaac McKinnie

Isaac McKinnie is a twelve-year old writer who participated in the 2022 Seafarer’s Writing Challenge in which he wrote a 5,000 word original short story this summer. Isaac’s sci-fi thriller involves a young motorcyclist participating in a race that takes a drastic and traitorous detour.

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Roads are dull. There is no other way to describe them. They are just slabs of concrete shaped to make a meaningless line. However, roads are even more mind-numbing when no one is using them. On these occasions it almost hurts to see a sight so boring. Luckily for the road next the small harbor in Winfred, Sasnak, this was hardly ever the case; and today was no exception.  If someone had been counting how many cars had passed through, they would have lost count in the first ten seconds.

Yet, in all the hustle and bustle of this road, one vehicle stood out. It was a motorcycle, a Hoss Boss to be exact. Its black body paint glistened like obsidian in the early afternoon sun. The beautiful Hoss Boss sped down the (still dull) road with the same amount of importance as King Arthur and his own steed would have. The driver was unfortunately neither wearing a helmet nor taking any safety precautions at all. You might say that he was not very smart. If you did, I would commend you for being smarter than him. However, he seemed to prefer riding without any safety measures. Dylan (for that was the name of the motorcycle rider) laughed as the salty sea wind blew back his black hair and lifted the smell of the ocean to his nostrils. After he finished admiring the view, he revved the engine and sped off. As he rode, he decided to take a route he had not taken yet before going to the meeting place. He sped and then took a random turn. This was what excited him about motorcycling the most: the constant adrenaline, the rush of fear when he took a sharp turn, and the idea that anything might happen. He wove his way around the roads until he finally found his way to the meeting place. There it was––an abandoned warehouse. Now, this warehouse might look like any other abandoned warehouse.  But if you went inside and walked through the abandoned warehouse you would find a tear in the wall. If you squeezed through that tear, you would see a small shed. It was there that Dylan met up with his friends.

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Writing Challenge Winner: The Worst But Somehow the Best Summer Ever by Amy Rogers

Amy Rogers is a twelve-year old writer who participated in the 2022 Seafarer’s Writing Challenge in which she wrote a 5,000 word original short story this summer. Amy’s contemporary story explores a young girl’s unexpected summer with her aunt which turns bloodier than expected.

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Original artwork by Amy of her main character, Ana

I was happy with my life. No, I wasn’t just happy with my life, I loved it! I had indoor plumbing, electricity throughout the whole house, a comfortable smelling house [you know that nice scent when you come into a clean inviting house], and best of all I got to watch television and play video games! I didn’t have to worry about goats needing milked, and leaky roofs needing fixed, or even any chores at all. In short, I was a lazy, selfish, entitled princess who only cared about herself and nothing else.

But one day, a week before summer break, my father and stepmother told me something that changed my life forever…

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Writing Challenge Winner: Captain Howe by Layla Mendoza

Layla Mendoza is a twelve-year old writer who participated in the 2022 Seafarer’s Writing Challenge in which she wrote a 5,000 word original short story this summer. Layla’s nautical adventure tells the swashbuckling tale of Captain Howe and the spell that changes his life.

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There really was no explanation as to how Captain Howe’s vessel had ended up in the Pacific Ocean. He could have sworn that they were going to stay in the Atlantic waters, but nooooooo, they just had to end up in the Pacific Ocean, and right by the Ring of Fire, too, if he had read his maps correctly. 

“Uh, Cap’n’?” 

“WHAT?” Captain Howe shouted, banging one pudgy fist down on the wooden table where he was sitting. Maps and books that had been on the edge of the table fell to the floor, and his Cartographer, the one who had spoken, slumped a bit lower in his seat. 

“Uh, um, just that, we- ah- seem to be getting fairly close to some active volcanoes that are part of the Ring of Fire, if I’m right about where we are on the map. We aren’t exactly headed directly towards a volcano, but we might pass by one. But,” he shrugged his shoulders, “If you don’t want to take precautions-” 

“No, no,” Captain Howe said gruffly. “Do take precautions. Try to alter our course so that we don’t have the chance of getting blown up by a volcano.” 

Continue reading “Writing Challenge Winner: Captain Howe by Layla Mendoza”

The Line-Up: Alyssa

Artist: Jessica Roux

Jessica Roux is a Nashville-based freelance illustrator and artist who specializes in animal and plant subjects. Her work has this colorful yet vintage style that plays with duality. It’s warm, but jarring. It’s gentle, but terrifying. Jessica will include a beautiful bouquet of flowers in vibrant paint next to an ivory skull or slithering serpent.

An Instagram post introduced me to her work. The post advertised her new oracle deck, Woodland Wardens, and from the moment I saw the drawings, I was enchanted. Unlike a tarot deck with its traditional cards and meanings, an oracle deck is entirely unique to the creator, and Jessica’s cards use the wisdom of both plants and animals to guide the user. I bought the deck at Barnes and Noble a few days after its release, and I have spent so much time staring at these cards and their art.

Jessica Roux also illustrates book covers, and one of her projects actually led to my next recommendation!

Book: A Game of Fox and Squirrels by Jenn Reese

I picked this book up because the cover art and illustrations were done by Jessica Roux, but the story itself is just as phenomenal as the drawings. This middle grade novel is about Sam who moves with her older sister to rural Oregon after experiencing domestic violence at the hands of her father. Sam’s aunt gives her a card game called Fox and Squirrels, and the cards summon a mythical fox with a dapper suit and a charming proposition. The Fox promises Sam that he will grant her a wish if she can locate the Golden Acorn, but the only way to find this wish-giving item is to give the manipulative Fox whatever he wants.

This book is so merciful in its representation of a child who has experienced domestic violence. It covers traits of PTSD and survivor’s guilt and building trust in other adults when one’s primary caregivers have betrayed them. It’s also written in beautiful prose that encapsulates the elegant forests of Oregon. The relationships between the characters is believable, especially in demonstrating how secrecy and shame become embedded in a family driven by emotional abuse. These characters are full, rich, and human in a relatable way. As someone who has gone through similar situations as Sam, I found this book to be profoundly validating, and I would recommend it to either children currently in this situation or adults who still live with those memories and scars to this day.

Music: Out Walking by Abby Gundersen

While I love loud, aggressive music to pump me up for a workout or rhythmic, R&B beats to dance to, sometimes gentle piano music is what the soul needs. Abby Gundersen is a composer from Washington who has been collaborating with her brother, Noah, and other musicians for years on multiple projects. Most often Abby works on other people’s tracks, playing piano, violin, or fiddle in the background, but every few years she’ll release a collection of solo instrumentals.

Out Walking is her newest EP. It features six songs, all piano tracks, and explores the feelings one has when walking around a neighborhood, garden, lighthouse, or just heading north. It’s a delicate album, and each song has this way of making whatever you are looking at or doing seem beautiful and profound. I listen to this album when driving and suddenly I feel like I’m in a movie where seemingly mundane things, like kids riding their bikes or construction workers tearing up a road, are existential and poignant.

I love the sounds you can hear on this album too. I believe Abby recorded on an older piano in some kind of attic because you can hear her hitting the piano pedals and the keys striking the base. It’s a palpable album, both soothing and emotional.

I recommend starting with The Neighborhood or Lighthouse, and the entire album is available on Spotify or iTunes.

TV Show: Netflix’s The Lost Pirate Kingdom

Netflix is a hot-spot for interesting documentaries, and The Lost Pirate Kingdom is an adventure into the Golden Age of Piracy. I’ve always been fascinated by the visage of the pirate; a rebellious sea-sailing warrior armed with freedom and pretty jewels, but the truth of the pirate is much more brutal. I wanted to understand what led individuals to such a chaotic and dangerous life.

The Lost Pirate Kingdom is part documentary/part dramatization. Shakespearean actor Sir Derek Jacobi narrates a six-episode series into the beginnings and endings of famous pirates like Benjamin Hornigold, Edward Teach a.k.a. Blackbeard, Sam Bellamy, and Anne Bonny. Combined with interviews from historians, the series features actors performing these roles aboard actual ships and playing out scenes that rival the cinematography of the Pirates of the Caribbean series. It’s a succinct, entertaining, and honest account of how these men and women took autonomy over their own lives by going against the tyranny of a monarch and its repressive values.

If you are curious about the timelines, actual events, and motivations behind these brackish buccaneers, check out this trailer and give The Lost Pirate Kingdom a try!