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Letter From the Editor

Editor’s Note

In this issue, we greet my favorite season, fall, which holds within it many moments to celebrate and reflect. It’s a season of transition, as the leaves change color and the wind moves us from summer toward winter—as reflected in our first two pieces, a very short fiction piece called “The Wind” and a play entitled The Storm. It’s also back-to-school time, and we have two funny poems about that. Oct. 14 is Indigenous Peoples’ Day, and we include two paintings by Leticia Cheng in celebration And, of course, October means Halloween, and the weeks leading up to it are sometimes called “spooky season.” If you like scary stories, this is your time! We end this issue with a truly chilling story by Anushka Trivedi called “Tired Wounds.” In this piece, the author turns an ordinary object—you’ll have to read it to find out what!—into something terrifying. I challenge you to write a story featuring an ordinary object or situation that somehow becomes scary. Boo!

Editor’s Note

Does anything say summer fun and adventure more than this issue’s cover art, Summer Summer, by Kaavya Killawala? I just want to jump in and be part of it! But as Micki Mermelstein learns in her opening memoir, “Drowning in a Memory,” adventure often comes with risk. This season, we give you a wide spectrum of emotions and themes. It’s summer with an introspective twist. There are poems about falling, about swallows in the moonlight, about waves and sun and the spiritual experience of looking at the stars. But summer is also about escape, and we have that, too—with the funny story of a hermit crab who stands up to his bullies and not one but two fantasy stories to lose yourself in. We close with the final installment of War and Pieces by Alice Pak. It’s been an unflinching look at a friendship divided by war, but I find myself soothed by the note of hope it ends on. I encourage you to keep writing and creating this summer. Let the time away from school clear your mind, so you can explore new ideas and new ways of expressing yourself. There’s no time like the summer to take a creative risk! Happy adventuring! Diane Landolf

Editor’s Note

As spring makes its way into summer, I’m happy to greet sunlight and joy in this issue. We bring you pieces about the love of nature, including Clementine Lewis’s memoir about discovering the wonders of the ocean on a snorkeling trip in the Caribbean. And we have flowers—so many flowers! There are flower photos and paintings, flower poems, such as the clever “Flower Punctuations,” and even a trickily titled story, “Zinnia Elegans.” I call that title tricky because although it’s the name of a flower, this “Zinnia Elegans” is a science fiction piece about a self-driving car. Of course, there really are robotaxis in some cities these days, but this story takes the concept just a bit further. In your writing and art, I challenge you to think about scenarios that are a touch beyond what is happening in today’s technology. Sometimes the best science fiction is only a step away from reality. With a smile and a lot of sunscreen,

Editor’s Note

As I write this, wars are raging around the world. Although a wonderful story or poem can often be a welcome escape, it is also the role of literature to tell the stories that are difficult to tell. In this issue, we open with Part I of a story that explores the terrifying lead-up to the ongoing war in Ukraine through the eyes of a Russian boy growing up there. We’ll be publishing Alice Pak’s novella War and Pieces in three parts over three issues. It is a realistic, moving story, but it’s the note of hope it ends on that touches me the most. When we accepted Palestinian poet Hana Shqairat’s poem “Spring Will Revive,” the last piece in this issue, little did we know how violently the Israeli- Palestinian conflict would soon reignite. The striving for peace and the thirst for renewal that Hana so poignantly expresses has taken on new meaning now. We can’t know how these conflicts will play out, but we can look forward to the first buds of spring, and we can hope.

Editor’s Note

It’s January, and I was expecting this issue to be full of winter poems and stories—and there are some, such as “One Winter Day,” the evocative nonfiction piece that opens the magazine, and a chilling story called “Thin Ice.” But what surprised me was the humor I discovered this season! There’s a hilarious and a little bit snarky story about the Greek gods, a sly art theft mystery, a poem about sneakers, and the rousing tale of a little chicken with a big dream. Amidst the humor, though, is great sadness. In this issue, we give you the true story of the day Aisana Zhumabayeva found out about the passing of her father. We have a story about someone who suffers because he’s so different from his peers. I love those pieces, but I am also grateful for the humor that balances them out. Nothing warms up the short, cold days (and difficult times in our lives) like a little laughter. This winter, I encourage you to brighten your world by writing a funny story and maybe even sharing it with someone who needs a lift.  

Editor’s Note

Hello! I am beyond excited to introduce myself as the new editor of Stone Soup! I have been a fan of the magazine since I read it as a child, and I will never forget the feeling of wonder it gave me to discover that kids like me could be published authors. For many years, I worked as a children’s book editor at a major publisher, so it has been a fun challenge for me to turn my attention to work by children. I am so impressed with your submissions! This month, as befits the cooling weather, several of our pieces explore the longing for comfort—the historical story about a Jewish girl who searches for hope after being separated from her family by the Nazis; the widow who eases the pain of the loss of her husband through the creative process of embroidery; the orphan girl bringing what cheer she can to her aunt and uncle amidst the war in Ukraine; a poem called “Home.” Change is another theme authors explore this November. There’s a story about how animals deal with the extreme weather they suffer due to climate change. There are poems about changing seasons, changing friendship, a changing world. What changes have you experienced, and what comforts you through them?

Editor’s Note

This issue is full of storms—actual storms that strike trees with lightning and shipwreck brothers and cause huge waves to crash onto the deck of a beach house—as well as metaphorical ones: “I am a thunderstorm” Pauline McAndrew writes in a poem about being mixed race. A number of characters experience internal storms as well: the protagonist in “Imaginary Friend” struggles to help others see what she sees; Nicky’s anger at her cousin Laila reaches a peak in Cousins; and in “Kindergarten,” Avaline describes the fear and anxiety that filled her when she had to start kindergarten in America—without speaking or understanding English. Storms can be scary, but they are also usually cathartic: all the tension and energy that was building is released in the storm, and afterwards the world—whether external or internal—is calm and peaceful. I hope you will take the time in the next couple of months to explore storms in your writing and your artwork. Rainily Yours,

Editor’s Note

Have you ever wished you could be someone or something else? “Ivy’s Return,” the short story by Clara Gluzdov that opens this issue, perfectly captures this longing through the character of Ivy, the cat who yearns to become a human girl so she can play the piano. When Ivy’s wish is granted, however, she realizes that becoming someone—something—else is not as simple, or wonderful, as she imagined it would be. But in other stories in this issue, happiness comes through more subtle transformation: a street guitarist makes a friend and starts to change his life through music, a girl works up the courage to speak honestly to her friends, and a third grader proudly recounts her changes over the course of the year. I hope you will leave this issue inspired to write about transformations, big and small, real and imagined.

Editor’s Note

Readers! Today marks FIFTY YEARS of Stone Soup! Reaching this milestone is an incredible achievement and a testament to the importance of this project for young readers, writers, and artists. Thanks to each one of you for continuing to make Stone Soup possible. The art, poetry, and prose in this issue explore climate change. It felt right to me that our fiftieth issue should be one that explores the most significant political issue facing all of us, and especially our youth, today. Here, you will find a story about what happens when wolves come into close contact with humans, a fantastical tale about a young wizard on a mission to save the forest where she lives, a memoir that reminds us of the beauty and majesty of nature, and incredible artwork that harnesses image and metaphor to show what we are up against, alongside many other powerful pieces. You will also find the first installment of Cousins, a novella that Emily Chang, 14, submitted to our 2022 Book Contest. We are thrilled to be publishing it in the magazine, and hope that you enjoy Nicky and Laila’s story as much as we did! Emma

Editor’s Note

In this issue, we welcome spring—with spring poems and spring art. Look again at that cover image—the wash of blue sky! The meadow full of blue, orange, and yellow flowers! That perfectly contented longhorn, gazing off into the distance! The grass is too green for it to be summer—it is still spring, and I can practically feel the sun warming my face as the crisp wind blows, smell the grass and the pollen floating through the air . . .! Thank you, Shaivi, for this painting. The stories and memoir in this issue are “springlike” in theme: many examine endings—which are always new beginnings. A girl who, in growing up, loses her best friend. A daddy longlegs who begins a new life outdoors. An alien who gives up a precious, ancient coin. A young girl’s move to a new city. And more. This month, meditate on what spring looks like to you—and create around it. Warmly,

Editor’s Note

In this issue, things go missing. There is a woman who has lost her husband and is now losing her mind. There is a girl whose best friend goes missing. There is a boy who is rushed to the ER after hitting his head at the playground and momentarily forgets where he is and why. There’s a bowl of light that loses its light when brought to Earth, and an ode to the beauty of the simple eraser. This theme seemed appropriate as we begin to enter spring—a time when we begin to wake from what feels like hibernation. How quickly every year I forget the cold, dark days of winter! And so much else along with them—how to dress in warmer weather, what to eat. Somehow, every year, I figure it out. What seems to be missing is still there, embedded in my body, which often seems to know more than my mind. This March, consider writing a story about someone, or something, emerging from a real or metaphorical winter. What do they choose to remember? What do they forget?

Editor’s Note

“Snow-sleet coming down / Like alabaster flowers raining / down on me.” “Seagulls struggled to fly against the wind. They were like kites getting flung around, as flimsy as rag dolls.” “Realization sets over me, / Like the winter sun over the countryside.” “I climbed up the ladder then paused, positioning myself as if I were a famous actor making an entrance on stage.” This issue of Stone Soup is full of breathtaking metaphors—metaphors that suggest an image of such beauty that they make me literally catch my breath (“Like alabaster flowers raining / down on me”!), metaphors that make me smile, metaphors that seem just right. Yes, I think. How could that be described in any other way? The metaphor is one of my favorite craft elements in writing because of that feeling of “just-rightness” it can elicit deep inside me. But metaphors need to be wielded wisely! Using too many metaphors, or using them carelessly, can result in what we call “mixed metaphors,” which create confusion—and even comical results. Think: “Flying like a bird, the cloud sailed above my head and then stopped, floating serenely like an innertube.” I have three separate metaphors in that sentence, making it impossible for one image to settle in my mind—is the cloud like a bird or a boat or an innertube? (Of course, as with all things artistic, you can use mixed metaphors—just do so intentionally!) I encourage you to sit down and think up some of your own metaphors. Save your favorites and put them into your next piece of writing.