It was a small sphere, glowing faintly green It was a perfect June day in the woods. The sky was royal blue, the grass looked soft, and maple trees were everywhere with golden light shining through their leaves. Clarice Hunter was miserable. As the car pulled in the gravel driveway, she averted her eyes from the house. It was just as nice as promised, freshly painted a blue that nearly matched the sky. Ivy climbed pleasantly up the sides. There were even bluebells in the window box. It did look cozy; Clary would have been thrilled to go there for vacation. But to live there?… “Aren’t you excited, Clary?!” asked her youngest sister, Eva. “Yeah,” Clary lied, turning away. The car came to a full stop in front of the house, and Eva scrambled over Olivia to get out of the car. Olive, adjusting her glasses, followed suit, and reluctantly Clary slid out after them. The three red-headed girls tumbled out of the car almost at once. Clary took Mack’s leash and led the straining brown Labrador up the front porch. There was, she realized, a window seat. Olive stood by Clary, watching their parents unloading the trunk and gazing happily at the house, while Eva ran around the front yard. “I know you didn’t want to come,” she said. “I’ll miss home too. But it won’t be so bad… knowing you, you’ll have three new best friends by the second day of school…” Clary shook her head. “No. I wouldn’t replace Ami. We’ve been best friends since third grade. But that’s not it, anyway. What if she gets another best friend now that we live so far away?” Only for a moment, Olive said nothing. Then she replied, “Can’t she have more than one friend?” “That’s not it either, Olive. You don’t have to act so smart all the time. You’re only eleven.” Shrugging, Olive knelt next to Mack and stroked his ears. “That’s only two years younger than you.” Silently, Clary handed the leash to Olive and went over to where her mother and Eva were. “Hi, honey,” her mom greeted, her eyes shining. “Just look at this place. Isn’t it beautiful?” Clary nodded mutely. * * * “It was built in the 1900s, you know, and… well,” she said when Clary yawned pointedly, “…well, Eva was really badly wanting to go swimming in the creek, and I was hoping you’d go with her.” She looked at Clary pleadingly. “It would be a really nice favor.” Clary hesitated. Her mother had promised her first pick of bedrooms. And this wasn’t such a huge deal… “All right,” she consented, “but I’m not going swimming too. I’ll just watch her.” “Thank you so much, Clary. Make sure she doesn’t go out too far. You can explore the house later.” As if that solves all my problems, Clary thought. She and Eva went inside the house together, and Clary took a sharp breath. She liked it more than she would ever admit. Why couldn’t it just be a rental house and not their house? It was, she decided, just a house; not a home. Not her home, anyway. There was something homely about it; worn places in the woodwork where other peoples’ shoes had tread every day, small nicks and chips in the wood and paint, places where the wallpaper had been marked a little. Comfortable things like that. Eva emerged from the bathroom suddenly, grinning and wearing her swimsuit. “C’mon, Clary! Let’s go!” “’K…” Clary muttered. It was only a short walk from the backyard to the creek. Eva skipped the whole way. There were pretty wild roses with their pink faces uplifted to the tall trees and blazing sky. Clary could hardly admire anything nice at the moment. She looked at her muddy orange sneakers instead. When they got there, Eva jumped right in the creek. She waded with the water up to her knees, smiling and shivering at the same time. “It’s cold. It’s nice.” It did look nice to Clary, snaking deep into the woods with bright, clear water and smooth, tossed stones at the bottom. She even peeled off her socks and shoes to put in her sweaty feet. It felt good on her toes. Eva’s short mop of red hair was soon soaked, but she didn’t want to get out of the creek, so Clary let her stay awhile. While Eva swam in shallow water, Clary practiced skipping stones for a while and even got a stone to skip four times once. Then it became a way to vent frustration. She stood with the water pooled around her ankles and named each rock before throwing it. Splash! The new house. Splash! Ami’s new best friend. Splash! Everything! It hardly seemed adequate revenge. The feeble little splash and ripples from each stone only made her more infuriated. Finally, bending to find rocks just to hurl out of pure temper, she paused. There, lying among the stones, was something else entirely. It was a small sphere, glowing faintly green. Clary’s first thought was that it might be a marble someone had dropped, but that didn’t seem likely. It was bigger than a normal marble, and marbles didn’t glow. She bent to pick it up. She’d expected it to be clammy from being underwater. It was wet, but to her surprise it was very warm, almost hot, tingling her fingertips. She turned the strange thing over in her hand, scrutinizing it. A few seconds passed, and the green glow and the heat began to fade. The sphere sitting in her palm was now dark blue and veined with thin, jagged white. It felt cold now. “What’s that?” Eva demanded, who had noticed Clary’s sudden silence. “Um…” Clary instinctively curled a fist around the sphere but opened her hand again. “It’s this weird thing I found underwater. It’s nothing.” Eva sloshed up next to Clary to take a closer look. “Can I hold it?” she begged. “No. You’ll…”
Fantasy
Adrin’s Chase
“What do you say, Adrin? Do we have a deal?” 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. The moon was hidden behind dark storm clouds that refused to shed any rain. The girl stood up, a wild, yet frightened, look in her eyes. She knew what the storm meant: Beta, along with the others in the wolf clan, was calling her, and they weren’t happy. The girl broke into a run. She ran away from the crashing waves and the inky sea. She ran through the tall grasses and thorns of the rose hips, never stopping or slowing to catch her breath. Her brown tunic was pressed against her body as the winds whipped her black hair, violently, out of its tight braid. Lightning flashed and thunder exploded, constantly keeping the sky filled with noise. Finally, the girl reached a sand dune that was hidden in beach grasses. Another jagged streak of lightning lit the sky just long enough for the girl to catch a glimpse of the worn wooden door carved with the ancient language of the wolves. This was the entrance to Beta’s lair. She waved her hand over the door, mumbling a strange incantation. The next thing she knew, she had the sensation of being squeezed though a tight tube before landing unsteadily on her feet inside the warren. The candles cast ominous shadows onto the floor of sand. Here and there were the occasional carcasses of unlucky animals or a seashell or two. Standing in the middle of the den was a great shaggy wolf with a chunk of fur and flesh missing from his left ear. He had glowing yellow eyes and sharpened teeth. The wolf started to pace in a circle around the girl. “Where is it?” growled Beta in a raspy voice. “I don’t have it, whatever you are looking for,” the girl said, refusing to be intimidated by this ferocious animal. “Do you dare take me for a fool?” growled Beta, baring his teeth, and his hackles rose. The girl was tempted to say yes, but she knew Beta wasn’t one for humor. He was twice the size of the girl and could spring at any moment, tearing the girl apart. “I don’t have it,” the girl repeated. Beta’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t lie to me, Adrin. Remember what happened to your father?” Adrin broke her gaze from Beta’s. Her eyes grew wide at the memory of how her father had lied to the wolves, just to protect Adrin. She thought back to how the wolves had forced her father out of their hut and started to fight him. Adrin remembered her father battling the clan of wolves, but to no avail. She remembered how the wolves sprung at her father, killing him in one leap. Adrin recalled how the wolves pitched her father’s limp body off the edge of the cliff and into the dark sea below. Adrin blinked out of her trance and continued to glare at Beta. “Tell me what you seek and you shall have it in eight days time.” Adrin tried to keep her voice from shaking. Beta sat down and contemplated the offer. “Hmm. The orphaned daughter of my enemy, go and retrieve the lost owl diadem that belonged to every sorcerer and sorceress that ever existed. If she fails, then I’ll take her life. Dangerous, life threatening,” Beta paused and grinned a wicked grin at Adrin, “just what I like. What do you say, Adrin? Do we have a deal?” Adrin swallowed and wiped her sweaty palms against her leggings. Her father wouldn’t have liked her to work with his enemy. Adrin was fearful for her life. She took a deep breath and nodded slowly. “Agreed. Eight days by midnight, no later. It’s a deal.” Adrin shook the paw of power-hungry Beta. “See you then, my dear,” said Beta as he disappeared in a whirlwind of sand. Arden Bastia, 13Warwick, Rhode Island Alondra Paredes, 13Bentonville, Arkansas
The Lily Hair Clip
“I… I want you to have something” 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. Smoke billowed from the cave’s mouth, and light flashed from within. The boy’s eyes widened in fear, and he stumbled away from the entrance. A large dragon emerged from the inky blackness, fire spurting from its nostrils. Its scales glowed a dark green, and its eyes flashed red. The boy screamed, but there was no hope. The dragon slowly advanced, its eyes cold and calculating. Its back legs tensed, and the dragon sprang over the little boy, briefly expanding its wings. It began to herd the boy into the cave, occasionally spurting fire to keep him moving. The boy soon reached the cave. He took one look at the dragon and rushed into the cave, fruitlessly searching for a chance of escape. The dragon followed him, its intent obviously successful. There was a piercing scream, then silence. The dragon emerged from the cave, blood dripping from its muzzle. * * * Lily knew she was going to die the moment she heard her name. She raised her eyes to the center of the village square, hoping she had mis-heard. An old man with matted gray hair and sunken, hollow eyes stared back at her. He stood beside a worn barrel, holding a slip of paper in his hand. “Lily Joanson,” he repeated, “you have been chosen to serve your town in the greatest way possible.” Lily knew what would happen next; she had heard that same speech every year, but never directed to her. “Nine years ago,” he continued, “a great dragon settled near our town. He raided our village and destroyed our crops. The only way to appease him is to sacrifice one of our children to him every year. This year, you have been chosen.” Lily felt the ground tumble from beneath her legs. The next thing she knew, she was lying on the ground, the taste of dirt on her lips. A woman was screaming in the background, “No, not Lily! My baby, my only daughter, have mercy, I beg you!” Strong arms lifted her from the ground. She looked up into the face of her oldest brother, Peter. His wavy golden hair hung around his face, freckles splattered across his nose. He gently stroked her long brown hair, whispering words of comfort to both her mother and her. But her mother would not be consoled. “She’s only twelve!” she wailed. Lily couldn’t think. She had seen this happen every year. All the children wrote their names on a slip of paper, including her, and dropped it into the barrel. No one really knew where the barrel had come from, but there was a rumor that it was the only object that survived the dragon’s first raid. The old man would draw a slip of paper, make the speech, then send the child on their way. No one had ever returned. Lily’s sharp green eyes filled with tears, but she tried to hold them back for her mother’s sake. Lily was not athletic or clever; she knew she had no chance. She stumbled back to her family’s cottage in a daze and flopped onto her mat. She fell asleep without bothering to eat and dreamed of gruesome deaths and dragons. * * * It was still dark out when Lily woke. Her mat was warm and comfortable and, for a second, she forgot her despair. But it all came rushing back when she remembered the events of yesterday. Lily quietly sobbed into her pillow. She didn’t want to die. There was so much she had to live for. It was her dream to one day have a family of her own, and have children who could live without the threat of a dragon hanging over their heads. Now, that would never be. Her older brothers stirred beside her. She had three: Peter, John, and Mark. She loved them all dearly. That was another thing. Her mother would be completely broken if she died. She was her mother’s only daughter, the only one who still wasn’t grown up. Peter was eighteen, John was sixteen, and Mark was fifteen. Her brothers rolled out of bed and began to get dressed. Their faces were tearstained. It was all she could do not to start crying again. Looking at them, she realized what wonderful brothers they had been. She rushed over and threw her arms around them. “I love you!” she cried. They hugged her back awkwardly, not sure how to respond. The family sat down to breakfast, no one sure how to act. Lily’s mother wore a pained expression, like she was trying to hold herself together for Lily’s sake. Lily’s father had died several years before in a fire. He had previously worked as a blacksmith, and a clumsy apprentice had let the fire get too close to the wood. Lily’s father, his two apprentices, and a delivery boy had died in the following fire. Although the boys provided for the family, her father’s death created a gaping hole in their lives. After breakfast, Peter drew Lily aside. “I… I want you to have something,” he said in a cracked voice. He silently held out a small hair clip. It was shaped like three lilies, her namesake. They were a creamy white with traces of pink in the middle. He gently clasped it into her hair, then stood back to admire her. “Remember me,” he whispered. With that he turned away and walked off. Lily watched him leave, a lone tear trickling down her pale cheek. She tried to go about her normal business; she
