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100% written and illustrated by kids ages 6-13

Animals


By

Listen

“Grab on!” I told it, though I knew it couldn’t understand me The sun slanted through the trees, lighting the forest with a warm glow. The day was surprisingly warm, being the middle of autumn. I climbed a sun-warmed boulder and stopped to catch my breath, letting my gaze drift through the part of the small forest I knew so well. Every day I would come here and listen to the river chatter, listen to the wind rustling the leaves of the mighty oaks and huge sycamores above my head. Since I had no friends, I spent all of my time after school here, in the forest not far from my house. I didn’t feel so very lonely here in the forest. I sat down on top of the boulder and closed my eyes. The sounds of the forest blended together in a beautiful song; wind whispering, river splashing, birds twittering, squirrels chattering. I frowned as suddenly a new, unfamiliar sound drifted on the breeze; a shrill mewling sound. I stood up and gazed wildly about. What is that? I wondered. It sounded like a small animal in pain. At first, I saw nothing unusual in the clearing around the boulder. Then something caught my eye—something in the river. A black shape was being carried downstream by the river currents. As I watched, a strong current pulled the thrashing black shape underwater. I scrambled down the boulder and raced to the bank of the river, a bit downstream of where the black shape was floundering against the river. I gasped. The shape was a kitten! It broke the surface of the water, its jaws gaping as it let out a shriek of terror. I spun around and spotted a hollow log nearby. Attached to its mossy trunk was an old, rotted stick that once was a strong branch. I raced over to the old log and snapped the branch off. Hurry, hurry! I told myself. Back at the river, I crouched down and stuck the stick out as far as I could reach, right in the path of the kitten. “Grab on!” I told it, though I knew it couldn’t understand me. The kitten looked at me, and I wondered if it knew what to make of me—a thirteen-year-old girl holding a rotting stick out to it. The current tossed the black kitten against the stick. The kitten scrabbled feverishly at the rotting wood, its tiny claws gripping the bark. It could hold on for a while, but probably not very long. I had to act quickly, before the current could pull the kitten away again. I pulled the stick back, not too fast in case it jerked the kitten off. Once the stick was close enough to me, I stretched out my left hand and plucked the kitten off the branch. He clutched my hand and meowed with an almost relieved tone to his voice. My heart pounding, I drew the kitten close to me and dried his soaking pelt off with my jacket. He shook his head fiercely, scattering drops of water. He began to purr as I dried the fur behind his ears. “I think I’ll call you Splash,” I said, smiling. The kitten looked up into my eyes—and I knew. I’d found a friend. Montanna Harling, 13Valley Center, California


By

Carrot’s Home

I used to own real bunnies in Shanghai, China. My grandpa always bought some for me. But my only distinct memory of owning a pet rabbit was in my grandparents’ apartment. It was 2011, so I was seven years old and as obsessed with bunnies as some girls are obsessed with “Let It Go.” My friend Giselle came to visit me and my grandparents, and she brought a moving present—a real, snow-white, fluffy rabbit! I had been wishing for one already! We played with the bunny, whom we named Carrot, until Giselle had to go back to her place. Carrot was looking at me wistfully through the purple wired crate. “If you want to set him free, do that. But only on our balcony, in case he makes a mess,” said my grandma. I swear, that woman can read my mind! We let him eat carrots off the cool, tiled balcony of my grandparents’ apartment. I lifted him up so he could see the ant-like people dotting the lush green grass, and the surrounding buildings in this area of crowded China. It’s safe to say that he loved when I did that. Oh, the summertime joys! We would sometimes walk him to the park. Lots of feral cats lived there, and they actually scared Carrot! We held him, petted him, and let him drink water from a little blue saucer on the porch. He ate carrots and played with us peacefully, until, on the fifteenth day we had him, we had to give him away somehow because we were going to another part of China to stay for a couple of weeks. We let him eat carrots off the cool, tiled balcony That night, while my grandma was lulling him to sleep, Carrot drew in his last breath. His heart stopped beating. His eyes closed. I knew what happened. I ran from my room to the porch. “He knew… he knew we were going away. It… it was his time…” my grandma explained, her eyes fogging up. “Oh, Claire, I’m so sorry!” I burst into tears and hugged her tightly, as if she would float away from me if I let go, just like Carrot. It wasn’t her fault. Maybe Carrot had a disease. Maybe he was old. Maybe… I trudged back to my room, defeated. I sat on the dusty old piano bench and played “Swan Lake.” Only this time, the song sounded sadder and more lonesome. I cried until my eyes were red. Red, like Carrot’s eyes, I thought. Red, like my anger, and red like beauty. While I was trying to fall asleep that miserable night, suddenly I gasped. I saw Carrot floating on the air. He had a golden halo. He smiled at me. “Claire, you must not be sad. You took good care of me. You can sleep in peace knowing that you will see me once more…” I knew I could let my past slip away. The future is waiting. Carrot was guarding me, like an angel. He was watching me, from heaven. One day, I will see him again. Claire Mao, 10Dedham, Massachusetts Catherine Chung, 11Theodore, Alabama


By

Moonbeam

What a beautiful day! Charlotte bounded home from school, eager to get back to their ranch. As usual, halfway there, her lady collie, Sunbeam, patiently waited for her. They traveled home together. When they reached the ranch house, Charlotte was greeted by the fragrant smell of blooming flowers, which was not unusual. “Welcome, spring!” she called, joyously scampering into the cabin built by her grandpa. Charlotte was the only child living with the family. She had an older sister, named Meredith, but she was in college. Charlotte was very lonely and dreamed of having many pets. On their farm, they had goats, chickens, and pigs—but those weren’t her version of a pet. She meant cats, rabbits, hamsters, dogs, horses—things like that. Charlotte set her bags down and raced to the barn to do her chores. Sunbeam followed, being protective like collies are. She worked diligently, hoping to beat her record time. When she climbed the hayloft, a streak of silver ran past her! Too big for a mouse… too small to be a goat! Scared, she grabbed the nearest bundle and hauled it down. Quickly, she finished her job and went to the house for dinner. *          *          * The next morning was Saturday. Charlotte calmly ate her breakfast, not hurriedly at all. With Sunbeam at her heels, she went to the barn. Oh! That silver streak again! Charlotte shushed her collie and tried to follow it—with no success. She thought about the mysterious streak. Then, she decided to do something. She disappointedly finished her chores and went back to the house. “Anything I can do, Pa?” “I’m fine. Go play with Sunbeam. I’m busy,” he said, rather gruffly. Charlotte went outside with Sunbeam and played. In the pasture, the flowers were lush. She played all morning and afternoon. She thought about the mysterious streak. Then, she decided to do something. She could wake up early in the morning, hide in the barn, and maybe get a glimpse of it. Just a small sight of it. Charlotte heard her ma yelling, “Come in for dinner!” She thought, My, am I hungry, and hastily ran to the house. *          *          * Early, at dawn, Charlotte heard her alarm clock ring. She quickly turned it off. After she dressed, she tiptoed downstairs, still waking Sunbeam, whom Charlotte immediately quieted, and walked out the door, with Sunbeam trailing behind. On the new, fresh grass both walked soundlessly. She reached the barn, climbed into the hayloft, and waited for a few minutes. Finally, a lumpy form came and slowly shaped into a-a-a—cat! Poor thing! thought Charlotte. So thin! Even Sunbeam was lured into sympathy. She whined softly, barely enough to hear. The cat walked out of the barn. Charlotte made up her mind to get something for the creature. She walked to the house, prepared a dish of milk from their goats, and carefully came back, trying not to spill any. She contentedly set it down and went back to bed, undressed, and tried to catch up on sleep. When she woke up, Sunbeam was pawing at her covers, probably sent by her parents to wake her. She dressed and sped downstairs, smelling bacon, pancakes, and eggs. “What’s up with you, sleepyhead?” Pa teased. She gobbled her food and ventured to the barn, greeted by an empty dish—licked clean. You are hungry, she thought, and sneakily set the dish into the sink, just in time for church. *          *          * Waking up early and feeding her cat became a routine for Charlotte, and one Saturday, she saw the cat had changed. You’re going to have babies! she thought in excitement. Good for you! I think you are healthy now. Good! One day, the cat was not seen. Charlotte went on a search with Sunbeam, looking… looking. Eventually, they met a dark spot in an empty stall. There was the cat, looking sore with pain. Charlotte raced to Pa, and he was there, since it was his day off. “Oh, Pa, there’s this cat and she is pregnant. She needs help giving birth! Please come!” Once they had both seen her, Charlotte’s Pa allowed her to miss school. They called a nearby vet, telling of their arrival. They soon came, and the vet had a doctor ready—so they set off. He asked some questions, and when they reached the stall, he asked them to wait. He went in alone. When the doctor came back, he told them to come in with him. She had kittens! It turned out that she was a runaway from the vet’s animal shelter. And with Charlotte’s pleading, they kept the mother cat, who was very friendly. When the kittens were older, they would give them back to the vet. After this was settled, Charlotte’s mother asked, “She is yours now. What will you name her?” Having waited for this moment, Charlotte confidently answered, “Moonbeam. Also, it describes her color perfectly.” *          *          * One day, Charlotte ran home from school. As usual, halfway there, Sunbeam waited for her. But beside her, a silver-colored cat was sitting, watching for her patiently. Sunbeam ran up to Charlotte and happily licked her face. The silver cat came over and began making figure eights around her legs, purring. “Hello, Sunbeam! You too, Moonbeam! Let’s go!” she cried. This time, all three traveled home together, never straying from the group. Carrie Merhout, 10Liberty Township, Ohio Elena G. Delzer, 11Suamico, Wisconsin