As I walked along the trail, the wind rustled the deep-green leaves in the tall trees. I could sense everything in the forest that day; the soft whispers of the tall grass, the chipmunks that silently skittered across the trail, the lullaby of the creek as clear water trickled over smooth stones. But there was something else. A light, joyful presence, a presence that made the whole forest stop to look. It made me stop and look too. I stood in place, still as a statue, looking for whatever creature created this magical atmosphere. And then I saw it. Quick as a flash, a burst of color in the green leaves above. It zipped past me, and towards the small patch of flowers on the edge of the trail. Only then was I able to get a good look at it. A hummingbird, each feather meticulously crafted by Mother Nature herself, shimmered in the dappled green-gold light of the forest. Miniscule bright eyes glinted mischievously as iridescent wings moved back and forth so fast that they were merely a blur. Its tiny body shimmered in the sunlight, capturing all the colors of the rainbow. It perched gracefully on in a nearby bush, and that bush seemed to quiver with delight at this pint-sized miracle. The hummingbird chirped sweetly and fluffed itself out. And just like that, the hummingbird spread its miniature wings and was gone as quickly as it had come. Clare McDermott, 12Madison, WI Daania Sharifi, 13Gainesville, VA
Hide-And-Seek
For my Opa “Faster, faster, faster!” Carlotta squealed, her eyes shining with excitement. Freja Larsen and Madeline Aaron, best friends since birth, laughed at the silliness of Freja’s younger sister. Giggling and talking, they rode home on Farmer John’s hay cart every day after school. “Three, two, one and . . . jump!” All three of them, Freja holding her little sister’s hand, jumped off the hay cart as they reached their home. Running with the hay cart to give Lily the cow a little pat, they finally waved goodbye to the cart that moved into the distance, dust trailing behind it. As they walked to the door, Carlotta blabbed on about what they were going to play once they got home. “We can play dolls!” she exclaimed. “Lotta, no, nobody wants to play dolls.” “I do.” Carlotta stuck out her tongue, held her nose in the air, and walked toward the house, her arms crossed stubbornly across her chest. “Lotta, c’mon, can’t we play anything else?” Slowly, Carlotta turned on her heel and eyed Freja suspiciously. “Like what?” she asked, squinting at her older sister. “What about hide-and-seek?” Freja suggested. Carlotta’s face fell then lit up. “I know where I’m going to hide! In our closet upstairs! The latch right at the back of the closet opens up and a hundred people can fit in!” “Lotta, you’re not supposed to tell the seeker where you’re going to hide. And anyway, it’s barely big enough for two!” “I bet you still can’t find me. It’s so . . . hidden!” Freja’s mother, Marie, was waiting for the girls at home and greeted them warmly as they came in. They walked straight into the kitchen, their mouths watering as the smell of freshly baked wienerbrød filled their noses. “Oh girls, what have you done?” Marie said, trying to suppress a smile. “Not one day goes by without you getting yourselves dirty. Now, who’s going to help me cook tonight?” * * * “And . . . done!” Freja had been helping Madeline get ready for Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish new year. This year, 1943, it was on the 29th of September. Freja had helped prepare the apples, pouring honey into a pretty jar big enough to dip the apples in. Madeline’s mother, Grace, had baked honey cake, which Carlotta was trying to nibble. Grace had also baked fresh, round challahs, and the girls couldn’t wait to eat the sweet cinnamon treats. The girls also laid out the head of a fish and some pomegranate and many other goodies. Madeline looked stunning in a beautiful but modest dress, and so did Grace. Now everything was finally set. Grace had invited the Larsens to share the first, special evening of Rosh Hashanah with them, and the best friends were excited for the first time celebrating together. Ring, Ring, Ring. The doorbell rang and everyone froze. Slowly, her heels clacking, Marie walked to the door and peeked through the keyhole, holding Carlotta by the hand. It was so silent you could hear a pin drop. Marie let out a sigh of relief and mouthed “Kasper.” Freja’s mother was in the modstandsbevægelsen, the Danish resistance, a group of people who fought secretly to protect the lives of Danish Jews. She opened the door a crack and then swiftly let the young man in. “God aften, Kasper,” she bade him good evening in Danish. Even though he was not who she had feared, Marie didn’t look very pleased. Her face showed no concern, but her eyes were filled with worry. Kasper talked quickly and secretly to Marie, not taking off his coat or hat or coming any farther than the hallway. He whispered something, and Marie’s face turned pale and her lips dry. She bade him goodbye and moved quickly back into the living room. “We cannot stay here. You must come with us to our home.” * * * Marie drove everyone back to the Larsens’ home—the car was the family’s only piece of luxury—as it was faster than walking. She told Carlotta to stop fussing about wanting to hide in the closet and ordered the girls to go to bed straight away. Madeline and her mother squeezed into the secret back closet that was Lotta’s favorite hiding spot. Freja and Carlotta went straight to bed, as it was late anyway. In their room, Lotta cuddled up to her sister and fell asleep soon, but despite the fact that Freja’s eyes felt like lead, she could not bring herself to sleep. There was a firm knock on the door about an hour later, and Freja still lay awake. She could hear her mother’s footsteps move across the tiled kitchen floor, out into the furnished living room, down the hallway, and to the door. Muffled sounds of voices and then boots scraping against the burnished wood floorboards. Freja imagined what Carlotta would have thought about this. In her mind, she could hear Carlotta’s young voice stubbornly refusing to let them in without taking off their shoes and throwing a tantrum when she saw how they were treating the beautiful house. The footsteps came closer, and Carlotta started to fuss. Knowing it would be dangerous if Lotta were to wake, Freja held her close, and Lotta’s breath slowed once more. Freja shut her eyes tight and turned the opposite way of the door. The door opened loudly and light flooded into the room. Two uniformed officers, one stout, one lanky, closed the door and shone their torches on the bed. “Please, my children are sleeping, don’t wake them.” Marie gripped the lanky soldier’s wrist and moved the torch’s glare away from the bed. Only now did Freja dare to open her eyes. “We have nothing to hide. Now please—leave my children to sleep.” The soldiers started to back out but then suddenly walked towards the closet. The uniformed officers
Optimistic Darkness
iPhone 5
Stone Soup Honor Roll: January 2019
Welcome to the Stone Soup Honor Roll! We receive hundreds of submissions every month by kids from around the world. Unfortunately, we can’t publish all the great work we receive. So we created the Stone Soup Honor Roll. We commend all of these talented writers and artists and encourage them to keep creating. – The Editors Scroll down to see all the names (alphabetical by section), including book reviewers and artists. Honorable Mention in the Short Short Fiction Contest “Potato Diaries” by Christian Goh, 10 “The Mystical Tree” by Hannah Lee, 10 “Symbiotic” by Madeline Pass, 10 FICTION Lucy Hart, 13 Chloe Meyer-Gehrke, 12 Talia Scott, 13 Juliana Yang, 8 POETRY Henry Arledge, 11 Alice Bennett-McMyne, 7 Elize Brazier, 12 Margo Tolla, 10 Ronan Tolla, 13 ART Natalie Bekker, 11 Abhi Sukhdial, 10
Snow
drifting falling a small voice calling through the wind through the clouds snowman made on the ground a snowball fight begins a cold ball hits me on the chin Eliza Wagner, 8West Hartford, CT
Snow
drifting falling a small voice calling through the wind through the clouds snowman made on the ground a snowball fight begins a cold ball hits me on the chin Eliza Wagner, 8West Hartford, CT
The Sycamore Tree
Once upon a time, there lived a bright and cheerful sycamore tree named Triffle. Triffle was bewildered by the rapid riffles at the edge of the clear blue river. She was very astonished at how rapidly the river was moving. She spotted a baying dog and a squalling bunny running away, trying to resist from getting caught. With lots of sympathy, Triffle waved her ancient branches to try and coax the frightened bunny in a safe domain under her broad roots. Triffle noticed a wound on the bunny and used her special soap as a liniment to heal the injury. The eager dog was full-fledged on catching his prey but he’ll have to hunt another day. Mira Johnson, 8New Braunfels, TX Tessa Papastergiou, 11Ontario, Canada
The Power of Nature
The water gushed from the waterfall that I could just about see and it formed a sapphire river feeding life itself. Dark green shrubs poked their beautiful heads out of the ground pleading with the smiling sun to grow and live. Just by looking at this beautiful jewel, a feeling of pure happiness washed over me. Birds sang an orchestral song and they fluttered over me while the wind blew a gentle gust of wind as I slept, not to wake for eons to come. The bridge’s planks were strong and sturdy like bodybuilders. Small fish gently swam and talked in an indecipherable language. Reeds waved to the wind, sang from sleep, and smiled a green leafy smile. The flowers all radiated beauty and life. Ants skittered to and from their anthill, all serving their queen, while a pretty butterfly alighted on my finger. All evil fled into the dark pits of hell to meet the devil while God in his heavenly throne granted the hope, wishes, and prayers of all. This was a nearly sacred idyll, undisturbed by tourists and their noisy cameras. Smoke floated up from the chimneys of the nearby village and the forest replenished the air while creatures squeaked as they ran in and out of trees. Cows mooed and talked and played with their calves. Flicks of migrating swallows showed their skill on the wing and their tails directed them home. I trotted home only to in the night dream about going to that ball of magic again. Adam Smith, 10London, UK
The Deadly Storm
“It’s so dark tonight,” said Elizabeth to her mother. Elizabeth is an only child. She’s 12 years old. Her dad died from a heart attack when she was only four years old. They were on the way to the hospital because her dad was having severe chest pains. Two years before he died, the doctors told him he needed a pacemaker, but he refused. But, to this day, they still didn’t know why he hadn’t wanted a pacemaker. When her dad died, they had to move from their massive house in Thorndale to a little broken-down house in New Jersey. Their new house was on a tilted, cracked cliff. They lost all their money when the father died. He was a scientist; he created things like computers, phones, and more. He got paid about a million dollars a month. He created something new almost every day. Also, when Elizabeth’s dad died, her mom didn’t remember their bank account number, and that was the only way to get into your bank account in 1866. Elizabeth and her mom, Sally, barely had any money. Since the night her dad died, eight years ago, Elizabeth didn’t talk to her mom at all. They were both so depressed. It just made Sally even more depressed when her own daughter didn’t talk to her. Elizabeth had just started talking to her mom a few days ago. The first words Elizabeth said to her mom were “Why do the good people have to die?” Now, Elizabeth was mad about how she treated her mom those past years. To make up for all of those years, she now cares about her, is respectful, and is a big help. That night, in 1874, Elizabeth went outside to get the snow and ice from the gigantic river they live near. When she brings it home, they put it on the counter until it turns into water. They’re poor, so they need some water to drink. She had her one foot in the rim of the river, which was freezing water. Then, out of nowhere, she slipped on the rock that her foot was on. She fell into the water. She could barely see the water around her, but she did see that it was dark—a deadly bloody red. The tide was pulling her under. She couldn’t swim. Elizabeth felt herself getting weaker and weaker. Then, she couldn’t move; she was sinking. Elizabeth’s mom was sitting on a wooden chair, drinking river water and looking at a picture next to the chair. The picture was of Elizabeth and her nine years before. After about 30 minutes, Elizabeth’s mom started to get worried. She put on her faded coat and gloves and stepped her foot outside the door. There were big streaks of lightning and loud roars of thunder. It was sunny out, but sleeting. When she was about to go down the stairs, she saw Elizabeth in the river, and the rest of her body was going under. There was blood surrounding her. Elizabeth’s mom started screaming. Then the house started shaking rapidly, and there was blood surrounding the river now. Elizabeth’s mom ran over to the river and jumped in. She twisted her ankle, but as bad as it hurt her, her daughter was still more important to her. She dragged Elizabeth out. After she dragged Elizabeth out, she realized that her head had a horrible, bloody gash in it. Elizabeth’s mom was determined to get her inside. Elizabeth just got inside and was on the kitchen floor when Sally heard the thunder and got struck by lightning. Then, she fell and passed out. It started to hail, snow, rain, thunder, sleet, lightning, and was windy all at once. Do you know what happens when they all come at once? A hurricane! All of the sudden the house started to rumble, the house started to shake when BOOM! The house went off the edge of the cliff, and BAM went into pieces. Elizabeth went off the edge first, then right after Elizabeth, went her mother. The weather stopped, everything stopped. After about 30 seconds, it was pretty and sunny. A horse-and-buggy was driving by the house when he saw the last bit of the house go off the edge. The guy, whose name was Matthew, ran out of his horse-and-buggy over to the edge, looked down, and right away saw two bodies lying on the ground. Right away, he got in the horse-and-buggy and went off to get help. But right after the horses started to run, something flew through the cloth on the buggy. What was it? It was a huge piece of sleet. Luckily it didn’t hit him, but it was so large and sharp, it went through his seat. He started driving faster and faster. The weather got worse and worse. Now there was sleet, snow, rain, hail, every different kind of weather. Right after he got off their property, it was sunny out. Matthew looked behind him at the property and heard thunder and saw lightning. That’s when it came. The tornado! He smacked the reins on the horses as hard as he could, and they ran the fastest he has ever seen them run. He needed to get someone, and it needed to be quick. He drove to the police station and talked to Officer Tom. Matthew said, “There’s a giant storm about 16 miles west, and two bodies lying on the ground.” The police officer asked, “Where are their bodies?” “Their house fell off a ginormous cliff, and so did they,” Matthew replied. Immediately, Tom asked Matthew if he could borrow his horse-and-buggy because the other policemen were using the other ones. There were other horses, but they don’t go so fast anymore. Matthew allowed Tom to borrow his horse-and-buggy. As Matthew was riding, Tom was asking him questions about the house, the bodies, and the weather. When they finally arrived he looked off the edge of the cliff, and there were the two
A Dinner Party
The old man tidied his home for his dinner party. Slowly, the guests trickled in, and a subtle murmur burbled across the room. He stepped across his woven carpet, antique and intricate like moss burnishing a forest floor. The guests seemed uneasy, whispering amongst themselves around the oaken table. The old man pulled in his ragged coat, concealing its tattered holes. “Are you adjusting well?” He turned around and saw an old classmate. “To tell you the truth, they’re taking away my house and car soon to cover attorney costs,” he replied quietly. “I’m really glad you guys came out here.” “Must have been hard . . . 25 years locked up in p-prison . . .” His friend smiled nervously, glancing down at his cell phone. “I mean—” “Sorry, I have to run. Family emergency, you understand,” his friend stuttered. They stared at each other for a brief moment before he vanished, the door creaking in his wake. Suddenly, the old man realized that all the other guests were glancing at him. He padded around the room unsteadily. Somehow he felt their stares following him, cold and cautious, betraying the veneer of their smiles. “Sorry to leave early, something last-minute came up,” someone abruptly exclaimed. “I need to babysit for a friend,” his co-worker apologized. “My wife has something she needs help with.” The chairs scraped against the ground. Confused, the old man gulped in the heady, wet-soil air as everyone began to vanish. The chandelier creaked with every slight breeze, bathing the dinner table in warm moonlight. The chairs, rocks, gazed at him with hollow expressions. The walls of his house, towering trees, enveloped him, trapping him with their tall, spectral frames. The plants whispered, glanced, stared endlessly. The hermit was alone in the forest. He had always been alone. Anyi Sharma, 10Greenwich, CT Elizabeth Hedge, 12 Alberta, Canada
In the Mirror
It’s not surprising I look like a monochrome: The only colors are pink laces on my shoes And purple bags beneath my eyes. Like an old-fashioned photograph— “Subject stares beyond the camera. Subject seems so sad.” The people in the pictures never smile. Their faces stay stony and unreadable Even though they see everything, Forever watching, like me. Smiling is hard when it looks so wrong. My best face is my frown. So I wear my frown as I walk away And the monochrome behind the mirror disappears. Anna Calegari, 12Chicago, IL
The Lonely Tree
iPad Tessa Papastergiou, 11Ontario, Canada
