Izzy’s Gone!
Carl looked out the window. He could barely see the park across the street because of the fog. He had to stay at his house all day today because of the fog warning. Now all...
Stories
Original fiction by young writers ages 8-13
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Carl looked out the window. He could barely see the park across the street because of the fog. He had to stay at his house all day today because of the fog warning. Now all he had to do was to get his baby sister to bed so he could sit back and relax. She had had her bath and was in her pj’s and ready for bed. When he looked back at his living room, he groaned.
“This is dangerous,” I say. The cold wind stings my cheeks and ruffles my hair. But I keep climbing up the old rusty ladder, trying to ignore my numb hands and my pounding heart and the fact I’m over twenty feet in the air.
“Well, yeah,” Addie says, snorting sarcastically. Isn’t she the perfect, ever-supporting best friend? No.
Her eyes snapped open, instantly awake. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and jumped out, fully dressed. Lightly, she padded down the hall and through the house. Cautiously, she cracked the sliding-glass door open, wincing as it squealed across the floor. She froze, half expecting her father shouting to “get back to bed this instant or else.
It was hot, much too hot and stifling for my liking. My long-sleeved wetsuit wasn’t helping, and the zippered ankles weren’t much relief. I sighed and rolled down the window. Soooo much better. The playful wind whispered in my ear, danced around my collarbone, and lifted my hair just slightly off my back.
This story includes some words in Tagalog, the language of the Philippines. See the glossary at the end of the story.
Today, Lina didn’t wake up from hunger, thirst, or the heat like she usually did. Today she woke up from the sound of voices. She looked at the rusty alarm clock on the shelf above her: 4:45 A.M. It was too early for voices. Tatay should still be at work.
"All right, girls. You did a good job in practice today, although I would like a little less talking between laps. . Now, don’t forget that we have a big meet this Saturday, so I’d like you all to get a good night’s rest before then. Be at the Westwood indoor pool on Main Street at nine-thirty, and the meet will start at eleven.
“Bye, guys!” Mom called as she shut the door behind her. I looked at my sister.
“Can I watch TV?” That was one of the two questions that I asked Nava every time we were home alone.
“No,” she said.
“Can I have some ice cream?”
She looked at me with her I-can’t-believe-what-I-have-to-live-with face and said, “What do you think?”
“Humph!” I got up.
Leaves rustle, a twig snaps. My eyes flash open, two sulfurous spheres wide on my dish-like face. My white feathers are rumpled, awry, and misplaced on my back. I peer out of the tree, gazing out through my window, a round hole in the rough bark. Moonlight glimmers off every surface, landing in shimmering pools, splashed there.
“Octavia, do not hold your threads so clumsily; you are not an animal,” Cassia said. Her young mistress frowned and then suddenly threw the ball of dyed yarn on the floor.
“Cassia, you may be my slave but I cannot weave even to a quarter of your abilities,” Octavia said with derision. “Weaving is useless; why must women get all the dull jobs?
“We’re what?!!” I gasped, blinking in disbelief. “Moving, Naomi. To Hawaii.” My dad looked like he was torn between which expression to wear: excited or sympathetic. He ended up looking understanding when he was talking to me, and thrilled when he looked at my eight-year-old sister, not that she needed it. Peyton was practically bouncing off the walls, squealing with delight.