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100% written and illustrated by kids ages 6-13


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Artist Portfolio: Sage Millen

Artist’s statement I got into dance photography about three years ago. Looking back on that first photo shoot with dancer Lizzie Garraway, 13, who is featured as the solo dancer in all of these photographs, we both cringe. We have both improved so much that all we can see in those early photographs are our errors. We’re still improving—as somebody once said (I forget who), “Dancers strive for perfection. Once you’re perfect, why bother dancing?” The same goes for photography. I submitted this portfolio only a month or two ago, and I can already see areas for improvement—Lizzie didn’t wing her foot, or the photo isn’t quite straight, among other things. That said, I’m excited to share these images with you, and I hope you enjoy them. The hardest photo to take was “Heart but Apart,” because of two elements: first, there are two dancers, and second, they are both jumping. It’s difficult for two dancers to be perfectly coordinated. On the rare occasion that it did happen, usually at least one of them wasn’t satisfied with their jump. This photo must have taken at least twenty jumps! Also, I post-edited it a bit—it was taken in low light and my camera isn’t amazing, so I just brightened the colors a little and added some vignette. The easiest photo to take was probably “Love.” I saw this mural and thought it would be a great location for dance photography. The more I take photos, the more I notice locations and think, “Hey, this would be a great background!” Even if you think there are no good locations for photography near you, trust me, there are. Anyway, it took us a few tries to get the pose right but once we had that down, it took only seconds to get a shot we both liked. Things you want to keep in mind for dance photography include: location, model, pose, wardrobe, lighting, and angles. Usually, the dancer should be wearing bright, colorful and tight-fitting clothes, unless you’re going for a specific theme. A flowy dress could work as long as you consider how that will affect the dancer’s lines and mobility. If you’ve never tried dance photography—give it a chance! You might enjoy it. Also, most people are flattered if you want to take photos of them—I was nervous asking Lizzie and her sister Ana, 15, (who is featured in “Heart but Apart”) for the first time even though we’re good friends. Luckily, they agreed, and we’ve had so much fun ever since—even when the photos didn’t turn out! Sunset Silhouette Stag on the Skyline Firebird Love . . . Heart but Apart Sage Millen, 12 Vancouver, Canada


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The Flowers That Live Forever

Olivia Judertt is determined to bring color to her gloomy, gray town A young girl walked through the gloomy roads of Brickville. As she walked, some rain began to fall. Huh, the girl, whose name was Olivia Judertt, thought. What perfect rain for flowers. Olivia loved her town, but it had no real color. She also didn’t like the fact that the town had no flowers. Olivia hated gloomy and gray things. She was very fond of flowers and color. Olivia loved coloring more than sketching, and she would rather get a colorful paint set than a phone as a gift. Her room was painted rainbow, and the first time you set eyes on it, you had to shield your eyes: the colors clashed together so much and it was too bright. So when she noticed that the town was missing color and flowers, her two favorite things, she decided to change that. One day she hopped into the kitchen with a new idea forming in her mind. “Mom, Dad!” she exclaimed. “I would like to plant some flowers in our backyard!” Mrs. and Mr. Judertt laughed uneasily. “Oh, silly girl,” they said. “The soil in our backyard isn’t nice enough for some pretty flowers. Besides, the weather here is very foggy, and flowers need plenty of sun.” Stubborn Olivia refused to give up. She emptied her piggy bank and walked to the closest flower shop. Olivia looked around the flower shop. Lots of colorless, grown flowers covered one side while seeds were stacked on top of each other on the other. She walked around, trying to pick out the just-right flowers. All the flowers there were expensive and not very colorful. “This is hopeless,” Olivia grumbled after half an hour of searching for the perfect seeds. Then something caught her eye. On the top shelf at the back of the store, sitting proudly right behind two really ugly flowers, was the most beautiful and colorful flower Olivia had ever seen. Olivia scrambled around for a stool to stand up on. She found one, climbed onto it, reached high, and brought down the flower. “Oh, it’s just a package,” she said to herself. The name on the package really drew her interest, though. It read, “THE FLOWERS THAT LIVE FOREVER.” “That will be perfect!” she exclaimed as she took it off the shelf and brought it to the counter for checkout. Olivia brought the flower package to the checkout center. She waited in line patiently with her heart thumping excitedly in her chest. When it was her turn, she put the package in front of the clerk. The clerk looked at her strangely. “Where’d ya get this package?” he asked. “We don’t have no flowers that live forever. This package right here must be a fake. And where are your parents, kid?” “My parents are at home,” Olivia answered truthfully. “And I insist on having these seeds. I want them no matter what.” The clerk sighed, shaking his head. His red, fluffy beard swayed as his head shook. “Kids these days,” he muttered. Olivia left the flower shop feeling both happy and excited. She had finally bought flowers! This was her big day! But she also felt that something fishy was going on with these flowers. The clerk had said that he’d never seen flowers like those before. He didn’t recognize the flowers either. Whatever, Olivia thought. He probably just doesn’t know the flowers in the store well enough. She raced over to her backyard and planted the flowers, following the instructions on the package. When she’d finished planting, she ran back into the house to get her flower pillow. The pillow used to be gray; now it was rainbow. Olivia had taken out her homemade colorful permanent markers and colored every inch of the pillow to make it as colorful as possible. She had named the pillow Colory. As she started going back outside, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned around. It was her mother. “Olivia, honey,” Mrs. Judertt said kindly, “where are you going in such a hurry with Colory?” “I’m going to show Colory the flowers I planted!” Olivia said cheerfully. Mrs. Judertt’s jaw dropped and Mr. Judertt dropped his mug on the floor. As soon as the mug touched the ground, it shattered into a million pieces. “You did what?” Mr. Judertt asked sharply. “I planted flowers!” Olivia said happily. “Lead me to them right away!” he ordered. As he passed Mrs. Judertt, he whispered: “Get me a small knife.” Mrs. Judertt nodded quickly and went into the kitchen. Olivia led her father to where she had planted the flower seeds. In this short amount of time, the flowers had already grown an inch. “These flowers grow pretty quickly,” Mr. Judertt said, trying to sound cheerful. “I know,” Olivia said, nodding and smiling thoughtfully. Mrs. Judertt arrived with something clutched in her hand. She went straight to Mr. Judertt. “We can’t get caught with colorful things!” Mr. Judertt shouted. “We must still keep colorless so no one will think we’re crazy and insulting! “Mommy,” Olivia said curiously, “what’s that in your hand?” “Nothing you need to worry about, sweetie,” Mrs. Judertt said sweetly. She slipped the knife into Mr. Judertt’s hand when Olivia wasn’t looking. Mr. Judertt held the knife at the ready. Olivia turned around just in time. “No!” she screamed, flinging herself toward her father, “No! Please! What are you doing?” “Get out of the way!” her father roared, “I don’t want you to get hurt!” “Don’t. Mess. With. Me. And. My. FLOWERS!” Olivia said through gritted teeth, pulling on her father’s arm to stop him. “We can’t get caught with colorful things!” Mr. Judertt shouted. “We must still keep colorless so no one will think we’re crazy and insulting! The town is still grieving from the hurricane, and we must grieve with it!” Suddenly Olivia stopped pulling. Mr. Judertt knew he had just spilled the beans. He dropped the


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Editor’s Note

I know March is winter still in most places, but I couldn’t wait to celebrate spring and all it symbolizes—new life and new beginnings. As I write this from the end of 2020, I don’t know what the winter will hold for all of us, but I feel sure that we will all be in need of many long, cleansing rains, big puddles to jump in, mud to squelch beneath our boots, tulip bulbs beginning to peek through the dirt, cherry blossoms, California poppies, rainbows, baby bunnies, fawns, songbird song, and everything else that comes with this wonderful season. Most of this issue is about spring—in a literal sense (spring is coming!) and also a metaphorical one. “Spring”—in the form of growth and new life—is coming after an emotional “winter.” Much of the writing in these pages tackles difficult experiences: divorce, fights with friends, moving, bullying, depression, and therapy. But what I love about these pieces is that the narrators are eventually able to see past their own feelings of isolation during these hard times, and to realize that these challenging experiences and difficult feelings are actually part of what connects us rather than keeps us apart. Enjoy the almost-spring!


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Highlights from StoneSoup.com

FROM STONE SOUP WRITING WORKSHOP #28, ON WORD CHOICE 30-Minute Writing Challenge: Write a short story in five minutes; then spend the rest of the time cutting it down to its essentials to make a six-word story. The Near-Doom Incident Peri Gordon, 11Sherman Oaks, CA Original We were hiking. I didn’t want to stroll. I stretched my legs and launched ahead of my parents, feet flying freely over the sandy trail. The foliage glittered around me like green and brown angels, but I paid no notice. I arrived at a place where a family was, positioned as if struggling to see something, but all I saw was rough, brown ground. They called for me to stop. My parents caught up. “Peri, they were taking a picture!” But no, they were not. The family pointed at a small, slithering thing snaking its way up the path. A rattlesnake. We showed our gratitude to the family that had saved me from doom, and we were on our way. No more running. Six word version Dashing ahead. Snake. Could’ve been doomed. About the Stone Soup Writing Workshop The Stone Soup weekly Writing Workshop began in March 2020 during the COVID- 19-related school closures. In every session, a Stone Soup team member gives a short presentation and then we all spend half an hour writing something inspired by the week’s topic or theme. We leave our sound on, so we feel as though we are in a virtual café, writing together in companionable semi-silence! Then, participants are invited to read their work to the group and afterward, submit what they wrote to a special Writing Workshop submissions category. Those submissions are published as part of the workshop report on our blog every week. You can read more workshop pieces, and find information on how to register and join the workshop, at https://stonesoup.com/stone-soup-writing-workshop/.


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Stone Soup Honor Roll: February 2021

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. ART Maggie Kershen, 10 STORIES Cora Burch, 13 Maya Dakua, 13 Scarlett Flamm, 13 Thomas Gilmore, 9 Naomi Pond, 12 Sanara Roeser, 9 Mackenzie Whitney, 10 POETRY Lena Aloise, 11 Ethan Chen, 10 Jonathan Li, 11 Grace Mancini, 11 Oliver Nelson-Meinert, 11 Lucy Rados, 13 Amarie Silverthorn, 12 PERSONAL NARRATIVES Emily Chang, 12 PLAYS Anya Geist, 13


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Scared

A strange noise spooks the narrator My eyes were wandering around the page of my book as I was sitting in the fort I made. The moon was strangling the sun and winning for the next eight hours until he was finally defeated at dawn. A frightening sound whispered through the window. Horrified as a person could be, I abruptly hid under the covers. The time went by and I didn’t notice a thing, so I quietly read so I could hear if anything came close. As I heard something come close, tears rolled down my face and dripped on the page, slowly washing away the words. “Man, that was my library book!” I exclaimed, quickly covering my mouth just in case. Slow as a sloth, I unfolded my covers, accidentally leaving my bravery behind. I got closer and closer to finding out what was making that noise. The covers were finally letting me see what was around my room. My eyes scanned the room: nothing was there. “I guess it was just the wind,” I mumbled to myself as the wind whistled, and I went to sleep. Kaydence Sweitzer, 9Virginia Beach, VA Jeremy Nohrnberg, 10Cambridge, MA


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The Vast Imagination of Melanie McGee

Melanie is determined to save Riverhaven, home to unicorns and dragons, from being torn apart Staring at the harsh sunlight, Melanie McGee smiled. She was glad to say that the miniature dragon nuzzling her shoulder had not dared to take a step away from her. She grimaced at the thought of leaving all the grown unicorns alone, who were in fact not that grown at all. They were quite a foolish species. No matter their age, they always seemed to find trouble. Leaving them unguarded surely meant the ghastly notion of being fired. Melanie McGee, who seemed to be no older than twelve, had been given the preposterous job of watching over the irritating animals of the Riverhaven Zoo. The job was impossible. That, at least, was what nearly all the townsfolk had said. *          *          * The mysterious town of Riverhaven was like no other. It was filled to the brim (if that’s even possible) with all types of unusual species. You never knew if you might bump into some strange creature on the street. Unicorns, dragons, hippacles, griffins, monerines—the list could go on forever. The people of Riverhaven had disliked the creatures since the beginning of time. All they had ever wanted was to be left in peace with no foolish unicorns, playful griffins, repulsive monerines (it is believed that this species is a cross between a goat and a sheep), or engrossing hippacles to stop them. Ever since the end of the Battle of the Diddod, the people of Riverhaven were never to live a regular life again. You see, the Battle of the Diddod had been the worst in centuries. The people of Riverhaven announced war against all of the odd creatures, who were given this name: the Diddod. The war went on for 200 years, 200 long, bloody years. In the end, the creatures won. They were allowed to stay in the town. No one could stop them. The people could declare more war, but no one wanted to relive the horrors of having no food, water, shelter, family, and life. Melanie McGee was not an inhabitant of this town then. But this is her story. And it is my job to tell it. So, I am going to take you to a place a lot nicer than the town of Riverhaven. I am taking you to New York, where Melanie was born. *          *          * Now, before I explain Melanie’s life, I will start from the very beginning, with the life of Melanie’s father, Mr. McGee. Mr. McGee was the type of person who could become popular within a matter of seconds. He was well known in the city for his mathematical ability and his way with science, and he was one of the many who constantly claimed that Riverhaven was not a real place. Not that many people disagreed. However, Mr. McGee had his quirks: he, even to his own daughter, refused to say his full name. He was always leaving town unexpectedly, and when he came back, he didn’t mention any details of what had happened, let alone tell Melanie where he’d gone. He had never, according to Melanie, written with pen and paper; he always used a typewriter. However, his weirdest feature was that he always kept a large metal feather in his pocket. There was no way that the feather had been created by a sculptor. Melanie was sure of it. Not even the best of the best could match the amount of detail woven into the metal. She was also sure that it was definitely not from any animal she had heard of. “New York is not a place for an imaginative child. It is not a place for a girl who likes to run, climb, dance, and prance around the city. New York is for success. For attentive children. For children who follow the rules. For children who aren’t foolish and aren’t babies. You, my child, are not ready for New York.” This was the exact wording of what Mr. McGee had told her after Melanie had once again broken her arm trying to catch a butterfly—it had been flying so elegantly! It had landed on her nose with a light flutter. A shiver of delight had scurried through her skin. She had trailed behind it as it flew by bustling citizens, as it headed for the streets, headed for the cars, until, at last, it halted with a sudden motion. Melanie was a cheetah at that point: she couldn’t stop. Her body flung itself onto the road. Cars screeched to a stop. A man with curly brown hair down to his shoulders left his car and picked up Melanie’s prostrate body. She had been driven to the hospital and was now pacing in her room, arm wrapped securely in a cast. These types of incidents were a ritual for Melanie. Something like this happened at least once a month. And, if she was feeling particularly foolish, maybe even twice. And every time it happened, her father’s frown would dig deeper into his face and he would sternly repeat the same words. Then he would give Melanie one last glare and leave her to think in silence. Melanie always tried to prevent her silliness, but it wasn’t much use. She wasn’t a city girl. She was meant to be roaming rural landscapes, searching for hidden treasure and mythological creatures that her father said didn’t exist. But Melanie knew better. She had read books about the Battle of Diddod. She couldn’t help it: she was fascinated. She was meant to be roaming rural landscapes, searching for hidden treasure and mythological creatures that her father said didn’t exist. But her father, tired from all the pestering, had made a decision. The following day, he stated his plan: “Melanie, I have come to realize that you aren’t fit for this lifestyle.” Melanie rolled her