Nature in My Eyes
Chapter 1 The Seed I am a seed who was planted by Native Americans into the rich, fertile soil of the forest paradise of the wilds of Michigan. Each day, forest would grow, and...
Stories
Original fiction by young writers ages 8-13
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Chapter 1
The Seed
I am a seed who was planted by Native Americans into the rich, fertile soil of the forest paradise of the wilds of Michigan. Each day, forest would grow, and water would flow, Nature would do its thing. This never-ending cycle of creation was the lifeblood of Mother Earth’s greatest creation, Life. I am Life, and you are Life.
There was a space. The space was empty, but, if you think about it, it wasn’t an absence; it was a presence. It didn’t belong. Inside her heart, there was the absence, or presence. In her heart was an empty space, or filled space, and it just didn’t belong. The rest of her heart, though, could take years to describe thoroughly.
Like the mythical creature,
It calls out a sound.
Just not a pleasant one;
A torture in its own way.
Siren.
I hold my ears and tell myself to breathe. One, two, three, four . . . 12, 13 . . . 20. This will pass; don’t worry. It’s just a siren, you don’t have to have another Freak Out, Lila. It’s okay, it’s okay. See, it’s leaving? Okay, okay.
At the first whisper of the unicorn’s warm breath in my ear, my worries begin to fade. I lean back against a burnt tree stump and close my eyes. I can feel the dewy grass of the clearing tickling my ankles above my sneakers. The heavy summer wind falls like a mantle on my shoulders. A bitter-tasting lump has formed in my throat, but I let myself sink into the warmth.
Chapter 1
I lay on my bed, wracked with worry. Horrible thoughts floated on my conscience. I buried my face in my pillow, my long hair spread over the silk. I tried pushing the thoughts away, with no luck. It was hard concentrating on anything these days. I had pushed my friends away, and spent less and less time with my mother. I knew she was worried too, but I had to admit I was angry.
Once there was a beautiful kingdom called Galavor. Giant trees and impossibly green grass flooded the land like a smile on a baby’s face. The sun would always shine without a doubt, warming the vast kingdom. The king, King Charle, seemed reasonable and fair. His dark, stiff beard and squinty eyes created a wise and trustworthy appeal. Everyone was happy and everyone adored their ruler.
I’m living in a magnificent city. In the morning, when the first sunlight illuminates the earth, the buildings seem to wear a beautiful yarn shirt. The world revives, people get to work. Cars make a beautiful picture, like a glittering lake.
In the afternoon, flowers blossom, trees and grass make a marvelous photo. Children play happily. There’s laughter everywhere.
Only ten minutes had gone by since the last rest stop, but to me it felt like an hour. My knee bounced. My leg jiggled. My fingers drummed out syncopated rhythms on the door handle.
“Jennifer,” said my older sister, Ula. “Stop tapping.”
I gritted my teeth and began slapping the side of my thigh instead. “It’s Jenny.”
“Jennifer, you’re still making noise.
My mom and I walked through the narrow hallway, noticing all the people around us. I saw a girl in a purple floral dress standing next to her dad. She looked a little younger than I was. I wondered if we were going to be friends. After that, I saw a cast on the girl’s right arm, a type of cast I had never seen before. It looked like decorated plastic.
In Shenzhen, China, the night before my first performance on tour with the Joyous String Ensemble, one of the youngest string ensembles in the world, I dreamt of a plum. Up close, it was a combination of pink, red, and orange. In front of me, two paths intersected, forming a shape like a cross, with an aqua pond in the middle and a spectacular fountain hovering in midair that had ...