Baseball
The sun beat down mercilessly on my sweaty neck. My shoulders ached. I was tired and my mouth was as dry as the Sahara. Bases were loaded. Three balls, two strikes, pressure on. I adjusted...
Stories
Original fiction by young writers ages 8-13
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The sun beat down mercilessly on my sweaty neck. My shoulders ached. I was tired and my mouth was as dry as the Sahara. Bases were loaded. Three balls, two strikes, pressure on. I adjusted my baseball cap as I stepped carefully onto the dusty mound, fingering the ball in my right hand.
Change-up, I thought. I stepped back in my windup. The ball shot out of my hand, bouncing right before the plate.
It was in the middle of the night. The sheets were thrown to the floor, useless. The window was open, and you could hear the sounds of summer. Cicadas chirping in unison, the occasional car starting, and the breeze that was so precious it was worth gold. My hair was sweaty, and I brushed away the bangs that clung to my forehead.
Maybe I should get some air, I thought.
A tiny ripple spread from the center of the pond as a small stone struck the surface. The delicate lily pads drifted and then settled as the water calmed. A dark shape swam beneath the water, then emerged, the spotted toad settling serenely on top of a dark green leaf floating like a boat. It collapsed under the toad’s weight, reminding Firoz of how fragile life could be.
"Kenna, come push your sister out to the car.”
I swing my backpack onto my shoulder and jog down the stairs just as I hear the school bus pull up to our driveway and beep.
“Can’t you do it? I don’t want to have to walk again. The bus only waits five minutes, and Anna is really hard to push over the gravel.”
“Don’t argue.
A tiny ripple spread from the center of the pond as a small stone struck the surface. The delicate lily pads drifted and then settled as the water calmed. A dark shape swam beneath the water, then emerged, the spotted toad settling serenely on top of a dark green leaf floating like a boat. It collapsed under the toad’s weight, reminding Firoz of how fragile life could be.
Ever since I was little, I knew that my future lay in nursing. One day when I was six, we visited my mama at her hospital. The sights, the sounds, and the smells all reached out to me. I told my papa on the way home that I wanted to be a nurse, and he chuckled softly. “Not too fast, pequeña, my little one. Don’t grow up too fast.
Boom . . . I woke up and looked out the window. It seemed like a nice day but that soon melted away. There was an explosion, gunshots, more explosions, more gunshots. I knew the sound. I'd heard it before. Living in Africa you get used to these things. But never this loud, this close, and this long.
I ran out and found my mom. She was trying to keep herself busy.
"Stay away from the windows!
"OK, girls," Mom said. "I'll be shopping around."
"Good-bye, Mother," I said impatiently, a little too eager to go browsing with Lauren.
I had just turned twelve three days ago, and Mom said I'd be allowed to shop without adult supervision with her in the mall, just at a different store—as long as I was shopping with a friend.
When Mom turned away to leave, I grinned at Lauren, who smiled back.
Slam! The beige metal door of the locker slammed shut. The friendly round face of my best friend Annie, framed with blond curls, peeked out at me.
"OK, Francie, finished changing my books!" A large grin formed on her face. "We can go play Laura now."
"Hurry up! Katie and Emilia are already out there!
The wind whispered through the long grass, blowing it gently into a lullaby of soft sounds. The grass rustled and the lake stirred as the setting sun dripped down the sky and below the stretch of trees that marked the horizon.
The stains it left were stunning. Pinks and oranges smeared across the sky.