A giant woolly mammoth and a young girl, both outcasts, become fast friends In a small, secluded, quiet place lived a giant woolly mammoth. The mammoth was a huge, brown, fluffy thing. His tusks were big and grand. They were as white as clouds. He looked very brave, but in reality he was a big softie. Though his heart was in in the right place, his mind was in the abyss. The mammoth lived in a petite school, where he was supposed to be raised as the guard animal. The headmaster, Mr. Krump, would try to train him, but it was useless considering he was not a smart beast. The school was an academy for the brilliant and only accepted those of high intellect. The school had no room for arts or creative thinking, just work. Inside the school, there were students who acted, talked, and did everything the same. They were bland. They only worked and never played. Their hearts were shriveled in despair. But, as you would expect, they were smart. Every day when they came out for breaks, they would sit and study. The woolly mammoth would often come close to the children, hoping, wishing someone would want to play or talk with him, but day after day the children would pass him by. The mammoth would ask, “Will you play with me? I am ever so lonely.” The children would always reply, “We have no time for play. We are too old for that. Leave us be!” It would forever be the same, he thought. Nothing would change. * * * Then one day a little girl came along. She was different from the rest. Her brown hair was smooth and shiny, and she wore a smile upon her pale, enlightened face. Her eyes glimmered with the color of the sea and changed depending on her mood. She was different, he could tell. She looked around instead of at her phone or her homework. The other students teased her as she walked toward him. She ignored them, continued on her way, and stopped in front of him. “Hello. How do you do?” she said cheerfully. “Fine, and you?” the mammoth replied. “I’m feeling yellow,” she exclaimed. “Yellow? You can’t feel yellow,” the mammoth said, confused. “Yellow is an adjective, so why can’t I be described by it? Yellow may mean a color to you, but it means an emotion to me,” she said. “And that emotion would be . . . ?” “Happy,” she said, “very happy.” The mammoth was intrigued. He wanted to learn more about these color emotions that he had never sensed before. They chatted for a while about the different shades of colors and what they meant. On a page of the girl’s notebook, they jotted down what each color was to them. Finally, as the clock struck 12:30, it was time to go to class. “We’ll meet tomorrow, yes?” she asked. “For sure,” he replied. As the girl faded out of sight, the mammoth knew that his life meant something. * * * As the girl walked away, on the depressing, wilting grass, she realized that she may not be lonely anymore. As the girl walked into the building, she noticed the headmaster staring at her darkly. Then he said, “You’re late. You weren’t talking to that beast of a mammoth? He’s very dangerous.” “No, sir I was not.” Then she shuffled to class with her head in her books. The headmaster, Mr. Krump, was a stern man with scrappy brown hair and a goatee. He wore very expensive glasses and a tuxedo. He often would stare at the young girl because he believed that, although she was smart, she could be a risk to the rest. * * * For the next few days, the new friends conversed during every break. They talked about the beautiful things they had seen, like the birds that played on the rooftop. The young girl impersonated her teachers and the kids who took their work way too seriously. She tried to make friends with them, but they would tell her they had no time. She would often tell the woolly mammoth jokes. There was one in particular he liked: What smells like rotten eggs and has the hair of an 80-year-old man? Mr. Krump. He would laugh so hard that the ground shook as he stomped his feet. * * * One day, they decided to try meditation because the young girl had had a stressful day. She was being bullied by the other students for hanging out with the mammoth instead of working and studying. Also, a teacher had confiscated her headband and earrings, because of their creativeness. They started to concentrate but the girl got tired and fell asleep on his ginormous foot. When she awoke, everyone was gone. The courtyard was empty and quiet. Then she realized what must have happened. She said sleepily, “I have to go. I’m sorry. I’m going to be late.” As she silently entered the building, she saw no sign of anyone, which meant she could go into class and say she was late because she had been in the bathroom. What she did not know was that Mr. Krump was watching everything from his surveillance cams in his office. He had a grimace upon his face. Mr. Krump knew he had let this go too far. The headmaster had seen the way the girl did not take homework as seriously as the other students, and how she always hung out with that stupid softie of a beast. He needed to stop this at once. The headmaster yelled through the open door to his secretary, “Call in Miss Herbert!” Miss Herbert was known for punishing children—especially creative children. Children who were creative took
Fantasy
Two Princes
Once there was a beautiful kingdom called Galavor. Giant trees and impossibly green grass flooded the land like a smile on a baby’s face. The sun would always shine without a doubt, warming the vast kingdom. The king, King Charle, seemed reasonable and fair. His dark, stiff beard and squinty eyes created a wise and trustworthy appeal. Everyone was happy and everyone adored their ruler. One warm June day, King Charle and his only child, Prince Richard, were eating a breakfast of omelettes and fresh fruit. They ate alone, as the Queen had passed away a few years prior, and all of Richard’s brothers had passed away at a young age. As per usual, the only noise was clinking cutlery. Prince Richard’s soft, platinum- blond hair occasionally fell into his emerald green eyes. His hands almost blended in with the porcelain chinaware. He was in premium health, but his complexion matched his mother’s, at least in his last memory of her. His bony body made the prince appear puny, but he was stronger and nobler than any man within the kingdom. Suddenly, King Charle broke the silence. “Son, while I hope to live much longer, we do have to acknowledge that I am getting older. In two months’ time, you will turn 21, and by then you shall be engaged to the woman of your choosing. Then you and your fiancée will get married and have a coronation, for it is an event I wish to be present for. Today, you shall travel to the next kingdom, Spañia, to search for a wife.” “While I do not disagree with you, Father, I would like to ask: why you are planning to step down from the throne so early in your life? You are only 60 years of age. You must remember, I am your youngest child, as my brothers have long passed. But, very well. If that is what you wish, I must obey. I will pack after breakfast,” responded Richard. “Very well,” said King Charle. The men continued to eat in silence. At about noon, when the sun was high in the sky, Richard mounted his black stallion, gave a small wave to his father, and set off on his two-day journey to Spañia. About two hours into his ride, he began to think about what he searched for in a wife. Romantic, independent, strong . . . As he tried to picture his perfect bride, he realized that each time he imagined her, she wasn’t the slim, graceful woman that is thought to be the most beautiful. Instead, she was more handsome than pretty and had a sturdy build. He realized that marrying and starting a family with a woman filled his heart with dread. He only wished to befriend women. He thought he was starting to hallucinate. So, after only three hours, he stopped for a nap beneath a willow tree. He arrived at the palace of Spañia around two o’clock in the afternoon, when the kingdom was at its hottest. The palace was built at the top of a tall, brown, and rocky cliff. While Spañia was just as beautiful as Galavor, it was pretty in a different way. It was warm and mystical. The royal family greeted him at the gate: King Ferdinand, Queen Isabel, Princess Isabel (the eldest sister), Princess Mia (the youngest sister), and Prince Francisco. They were all kind and very welcoming. While Isabel was the prettiest of the princesses, Mia took the most interest in Richard right away. Richard knew picking a bride would be difficult, especially considering he was attracted to neither of them. Instead, he took a strong interest in the prince, Francisco. Lucky for Richard, it was Francisco who showed him around the palace and helped to get him settled in his room, which was between Princess Isabel’s room and Francisco’s room. As Richard put his things away, he noticed the massive and beautiful garden outside his window. At six o’clock, dinner was served. Richard was placed between Isabel and Mia, and across from Francisco. The King and Queen sat at either end of the long, rectangular table. Throughout the evening, Richard had boring, two-sentence conversations with both princesses. (“How was the trip?” “Fine.” Or, “The salmon is quite delicious.” “Yes, it really is.”) Finally, Richard remembered the garden. “I couldn’t help but notice the beautiful garden you have here,” said Prince Richard. “Ah, yes,” said Francisco. “I love it. It’s where I spend most of my time. If I’m not gardening, I’m wandering, or reading under a willow tree. But, really, it’s nothing much. If you like, Richard, I can show you after dinner?” While Richard’s hair fell in his face, he wondered what it would be like to have Francisco’s dark complexion and stiff, yet wavy, black hair. He was the most attractive man he had ever seen. He liked his kindness too. He admired how humble he was. “Of course! That would be fantastic!” Richard exclaimed. “Great. I’ll meet you in your room at 7:30,” decided Francisco. At 7:32, Richard was still waiting in his bedroom, which was quite luxurious. He was starting to worry. “What if he has forgotten?” he thought. “Maybe I should go check on Francisco, to remind him of our—” Richard was not sure how to define it—“date?” Richard thought it was a date, but did Francisco? Did Richard want it to be a date? Richard was now more nervous than ever. As he stood to check on the prince, there was a short and rhythmic knock at the door. “Richard? Sorry I’m late. Are you ready?” called the voice of Francisco, through the door. “I’ll be right out, and don’t be sorry, it’s alright,” replied Richard. A second later, the two men stood together in the corridor. Richard found Francisco especially dashing. Was this a date? It seemed the answer was yes. To his own surprise, Richard smiled at the revelation. “Shall we?” Francisco put out his arm. Richard
The Magic Female Butterfly
Long, long ago in a scorching, wet rainforest, where the leaves of trees were covered in sweat, lived a poor family. They had: a sister called Vigo, a boy called Cancy, and a mother, but the father was killed by a crocodile. One day, when Vigo was exploring the jungle, a vivid spark fluttered past. It was a butterfly but not an ordinary one because it was speaking. It sang: “Hi, girl, I’m The Magic Butterfly and poor people can make a wish!” “Are you joking?!” “No,” the butterfly said while gliding. Vigo waddled towards the insect. Then, as expected, the girl said: “I wish my family were the richest in the world!” When Vigo got home, she found her house was loaded with gold as heavy as an elephant. Then, ruthlessly, they started spending their wealth and bought a fabulous house. Soon the money ran out! The End Seven Guo, 6London, UK
