Tranquility Reservoir
I gaze at the distant sun reflecting on the lake. I see the loon dipping in and out of the reservoir. Then I see a small ripple in the remote waters. That strikes a vague...
Stories
Original fiction by young writers ages 8-13
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I gaze at the distant sun reflecting on the lake. I see the loon dipping in and out of the reservoir. Then I see a small ripple in the remote waters. That strikes a vague memory of the days when my brother and I caught frogs in a nearby pond. There are frogs in my memory, jumping, creating small splashes in the water. Now, I dip my foot into the frigid water.
Storm-tossed waves broke like a thousand glass shards against the craggy black rocks at the base of the cliff. A sleeping girl, curled among the long grasses, didn’t hear the storm. She was in the midst of a nightmare, tossing and turning. Suddenly, a clap of thunder pierced the night and the girl woke up, breathing heavily. She looked around, although it was impossible to see anything.
There is one thing that always completes my summer. Mission Beach.
Every August, my family either takes the eight-hour drive or the one-hour flight down to San Diego, where my mom grew up. My grandpa lives in a small complex called Stonecrest, and about a ten-minute drive away is Mission Beach, my favorite beach in the whole world.
I paced nervously back and forth in front of Royal Blue’s stall and wondered why Dad was taking so long talking to Mr. Fields. Mr. Fields wasn’t going to buy Royal Blue even if he paid hundreds of thousands of dollars for the successful racehorse, I knew, since Dad had told me just that morning that he wouldn’t sell. Dad turned down many offers already. Why wasn’t he giving Mr.
My mother always wanted a little girl. One who would wear frilly pink dresses and bows and barrettes in her hair and would play with dolls and have tea parties with china and have perfect manners and would take ballet and would grow up to marry a fine young gentleman and then have some more lovely children.
But she got me.
At first, when it was announced that I was a girl, she cried with joy.
Where I live, the seasons come and go as they please, along with the day and night. Everything has been the same for as long as I can remember. The daily routine of waking up, brushing my teeth, and getting on the bus only to be disturbed by teenagers seemed like a part of my life now. After getting off of the bus to go in to my school, no matter what grade I was in, it never seemed to change.
Little brothers are so annoying.
Sure, you usually care about them when they’re hurt or crying or something like that. But in my opinion, they’re just crazy little things that claim to be related to us. I never knew that I could be so worried about my brother.
* * *
The smiling sun shone brightly down on my back as I walked happily down the sidewalk.
My feet slapped against the wet sand, and waves lapped at my toes. White umbrellas blossomed like flowers all over the beach, teetering and threatening to fall down in the salty ocean breeze. I crossed over to the dry, sugar-powdered sand, and I could hear my heart pounding as I sprinted through mounds of shells.
A scream cut through the cool night air, but no one was around to hear it. A small boy of around five years old huddled against a tree trunk, crying desperately. His short brown hair was plastered against his brow, tears staining his freckled face.
“Mommy!” he screamed. “Mommy save me!” He stared fearfully at a dark cave from which a deep rumbling resounded.
The waves lapped rhythmlessly against the side of the boat as I hoisted the sail and started slowly out into the bay. Dark clouds were forming on the horizon and drops of rain were beginning to fall. I squinted, trying to see through the increasing downpour, and I realized that I could not tell sky from sea. As thunder started to boom, the waves grew bigger and more dangerous.