I stood on the top of the tall mountain, relishing every minute, every second, every moment. The cool breeze against my face, the wind toying with my umber coloured hair and the warm glow of the sun warming my skin… When I was surrounded by nature, by trees, flowers, valleys, rivers, and the forest teeming with life; when I was far away from the arguments between my parents, the furniture being thrown around, and the stress of my life, then I truly felt free. I sat down. I sat for a long, long time, watching the sun climb slowly up into the sky, its warm glow radiating onto the earth. A rock wren landed beside me, cocking its head. I smiled, watching as it hopped back and forth before spreading its wings and flying off. I sighed. I wished I could be free like a bird, free of worry. I was a mute; I could not speak. However, I went to a normal neighbourhood school, where schoolmates left me alone, ignored me like I did not exist. I didn’t mind, I preferred to have my own time anyway. I would sit patiently by the river in the school garden, my hands on my lap. My observant eyes and patience caught movements commonly unnoticed. I saw the sparrows collecting twigs and leaves for their nests, leaves falling from trees, squirrels storing nuts for the winter and ants working hard to build homes, bit by bit, one step at the time. Sensing how long I had stayed on the mountain, I looked at my watch, broken from my chain of thoughts. It was getting late and I had to head home for breakfast. Reluctantly, I stood up, enjoying the magnificent scenery for a while longer before carefully making my way down. I cautiously stepped on the rocks, slippery on the surface by the melted snow in the morning warmth. Spring was approaching. After walking downwards a few steps, I paused and squatted down by the stream near me and took a drink of water. The cool, clear water felt good as it ran down my throat. After the few mouthfuls of fresh water, I continued my progress down the rocky mountain. As I reached the valley, I could see my house ahead. It was a broken down building with an untended garden filled with weeds, and a hole in the roof where rain could sleep in. I took of my shoes and held them in my hands, walking barefooted in the soft grass. The grass pricked my feet, but yet it was soft, fuzzy and comforting. As I walked on, I thought I heard a rustle in the grass. I paused for a moment. There was no sound for a while, then the rustling resumed. Silently, I edged closer to the sound. Before I could edge any closer, I heard a shrill squeal and an Andean mountain cat came into view, dashing across the grass. It clutched a small bundle in its jaws, running with a slight limp in my direction. Upon closer inspection, I realised that it was bleeding on its hind leg. It was chased by a wolf with shaggy grey fur, almost close enough to deliver another bite. I looked around frantically for something to throw at the wolf, but couldn’t find anything. The wolf was gaining on the cat really fast. Then I had an idea. I reached into my backpack and drew out my purse. It contained tools I would need for survival if I ever needed them when I went out for an adventure in the wild. The purse was hard, but not too hard to hurt the wolf. Clutching it in my hands, I waited for a moment for a good aim and flung the purse at the wolf with all the strength I could muster. The purse hit the wolf’s skull, dropping onto the ground. The wolf whimpered and paused for a while, giving the mountain cat the time to run off. Realizing who had thrown the object, it spun around and advanced towards me. Slowly, I backed off and ran home as fast as my legs could carry me, slamming the front door behind me when I reached the broken-down building. It was then it dawned upon me that I had forgotten to retrieve my purse back. From the sofa, Dad glared at me. “You’re late,” he snapped. “Breakfast is on the table, turning cold.” I trooped into the kitchen, retrieving the packet from the kitchen table before walking out of the back door. I wondered if I could find my purse-and the cat. When I reached the field, the same spot where I last saw the cat, I sat down and munched on the sandwich. After a long while, I saw the grass part and the same mountain cat streaked past me. Curious, I followed the cat to see where it was going. I tailed the cat until it reached an overhanging rock. Inside lay an adorable baby Andean mountain cat. I looked at the older cat with big, grey eyes and mewed ever so softly. The cat picked up the kitten tenderly and dashed off. I followed the mountain cat. It didn’t seem to mind. The cat disappeared into a bush in the field. I peeked in and saw a litter of five kittens, all huddled together and mewing. I was surprised to realise that beside the litter lay my purse! The mountain cat picked up the purse tenderly in its jaws and handed it to me. Here, this belongs to you, thanks for saving my life. I stared at the cat, baffled. It seemed like it was talking to me, like I could hear its voice in my head. Indeed, I am talking to you. I attempted talking back to the cat. Thanks? I tried uncertainly. You’re welcome, the cat’s reply sounded like a purr. Happy with my new discovery, I sat beside the family of six as I
Animals
Butterfly
Weirdly, I find Butterflies very interesting. Butterflies are quite beautiful and elegant. Maybe I like them because they were the first things I could draw besides shapes. Also it’s because my aunt taught me how to release a butterfly. But butterflies are bugs, and I hate bugs. During summer break, I went to China and stayed at my aunt’s apartment for about a week. I learned that my aunt loved bugs and mainly butterflies. She took me outside one day to find butterfly eggs. I remember she said, “Every egg brings new life into the world and no life should be wasted.” These words were inspiring. I went to sleep gazing out the window at the shining spiderwebs that seemed to have jewels on them. I heard Pidian, my aunt’s dog coming. Pidian is old and always stares at me with a questioning expression. She gazes out at the sky with me also thinking silently. I wonder if dogs have feelings and thoughts inside. Maybe bugs do too. I observed her Butterflies and cocoons and caterpillars daily. The caterpillars were all different. Each with a unique marking. As I watched them more, I learned to like them more. I started to like them more and more. “Do bugs have feelings ?” I asked my aunt. “Well, if they have brains I suppose that they have feelings,” she responded. “Why do you help them?” I asked. “Well not all people are helpful, but small things help the world to be a better place you know,” said my aunt. The next day, my aunt took me to find more eggs and caterpillars. We finally found one which was green and sparkly. Suddenly, a downpour of water from the gutter hit the tiny thing. My aunt brought it in, hoping it would live. The next day, the caterpillar was no more. Overnight it had turned into a beautiful cocoon, leaf green with golden sparkles. It hung on a branch silently. It is waiting to go into the next part of its life. I wonder what it’s thinking about. Pidian trots in and sits next to me for a while. It too is watching the golden spotted cocoon. It trots under my aunt’s bed, tired of watching and observing. One of my aunt’s butterflies is golden. Like an angel. That one, I can tell, is very happy to have wings and a meaning in life to someday have its own babies and for them to live on. Then, finally, after one week, something happened. My cocoon had started to move. Slowly, like waking up from a deep slumber, was a butterfly. It’s wings were magnificent. They were sapphire blue with pitch black edgings, but it wasn’t free just yet. It couldn’t fly just yet. When the sun was directly above our heads, we set it free. I stuck my hand in, and it backed away as if it wasn’t sure if it wanted to leave. Finally, it cautiously walked on my hand, and I lifted it out of the box. It fluttered in the sunshine and caught a breeze to a new kind of life. I could feel myself glowing with happiness inside, and as I went inside I was sure that there was a smile on my face. Because today I learned that everything has a meaning in life. Sometimes Pidian falls and gets up or gets into some sort of trouble, but I always help it, just as I would for any other being. I know that Pidian remembers the butterfly and knows that it too, has come to this world with a purpose. ‘Butterflies’ by Moneerah Saoudy Amy Zhou, 11Skillman, NJ Moneerah Saoudy, 10Eden Prairie, MN
Butterfly
Weirdly, I find Butterflies very interesting. Butterflies are quite beautiful and elegant. Maybe I like them because they were the first things I could draw besides shapes. Also it’s because my aunt taught me how to release a butterfly. But butterflies are bugs, and I hate bugs. During summer break, I went to China and stayed at my aunt’s apartment for about a week. I learned that my aunt loved bugs and mainly butterflies. She took me outside one day to find butterfly eggs. I remember she said, “Every egg brings new life into the world and no life should be wasted.” These words were inspiring. I went to sleep gazing out the window at the shining spiderwebs that seemed to have jewels on them. I heard Pidian, my aunt’s dog coming. Pidian is old and always stares at me with a questioning expression. She gazes out at the sky with me also thinking silently. I wonder if dogs have feelings and thoughts inside. Maybe bugs do too. I observed her Butterflies and cocoons and caterpillars daily. The caterpillars were all different. Each with a unique marking. As I watched them more, I learned to like them more. I started to like them more and more. “Do bugs have feelings ?” I asked my aunt. “Well, if they have brains I suppose that they have feelings,” she responded. “Why do you help them?” I asked. “Well not all people are helpful, but small things help the world to be a better place you know,” said my aunt. The next day, my aunt took me to find more eggs and caterpillars. We finally found one which was green and sparkly. Suddenly, a downpour of water from the gutter hit the tiny thing. My aunt brought it in, hoping it would live. The next day, the caterpillar was no more. Overnight it had turned into a beautiful cocoon, leaf green with golden sparkles. It hung on a branch silently. It is waiting to go into the next part of its life. I wonder what it’s thinking about. Pidian trots in and sits next to me for a while. It too is watching the golden spotted cocoon. It trots under my aunt’s bed, tired of watching and observing. One of my aunt’s butterflies is golden. Like an angel. That one, I can tell, is very happy to have wings and a meaning in life to someday have its own babies and for them to live on. Then, finally, after one week, something happened. My cocoon had started to move. Slowly, like waking up from a deep slumber, was a butterfly. It’s wings were magnificent. They were sapphire blue with pitch black edgings, but it wasn’t free just yet. It couldn’t fly just yet. When the sun was directly above our heads, we set it free. I stuck my hand in, and it backed away as if it wasn’t sure if it wanted to leave. Finally, it cautiously walked on my hand, and I lifted it out of the box. It fluttered in the sunshine and caught a breeze to a new kind of life. I could feel myself glowing with happiness inside, and as I went inside I was sure that there was a smile on my face. Because today I learned that everything has a meaning in life. Sometimes Pidian falls and gets up or gets into some sort of trouble, but I always help it, just as I would for any other being. I know that Pidian remembers the butterfly and knows that it too, has come to this world with a purpose. ‘Butterflies’ by Moneerah Saoudy Amy Zhou, 11Skillman, NJ Moneerah Saoudy, 10Eden Prairie, MN