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100% written and illustrated by kids ages 6-13


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When the World Woke Up

A celebration of dawn’s quiet joy The ashen sky was dusted with creamy pearls. Street lamps cast their gentle aura across the unlit streets. No sounds could be heard; it was too late for the owls and wolves to be out but too early for a siren to shatter the deathly silence. A cool breeze churned through the crisp night air, changing it into something much softer and warmer. Suddenly, smears of color began to span the horizon, as if the world were catching fire. The fiery inferno of sunrise began to lighten the world. A gentle, buttery light took a stroll through the dim town. Closed blinds let in the faintest strips of gold and copper, which stretched across walnut floors. Leaves rustled and trees swayed. The morning began to grow louder, and through the scattered pandemonium, the soft and delicate songs of the birds could be heard. Splintering light flooded into dreams. Soft murmurs drifted through open windows and into the open air. Oh, and the food! Every breakfast pan was a new sight or smell. Hands of all different colors, from chocolate brown to a sandy hue, reached into the dishes and frying pans to flip their pancakes or stir their stew. Spicy and sweet scents of food from around the world blended into a perfect mix, and if you stood on the street, you could breathe in the aroma of fresh bread and fiery curry and buttery croissants and rich coffee. Flavors melded together. Brightly colored fruits let sweet juices drip from the corners of mouths. Under every rooftop a family was gathered, making the time to treasure the morning and lock it away. Children turned the pages in their books. They talked with their brothers and sisters. They quickly scarfed down their lovingly prepared breakfasts. No face was without a smile. At last, the fire on the horizon had spread across the whole landscape, and the world bathed itself in such beautiful tones of amber, emerald, sapphire, crimson, lilac, and tangerine. Even in the midst of all this, nothing could shine brighter than the warm smiles spread across every face. Maggie Shelton, 12Bethesda, MD Djin Thornton, 10Purdys, NY


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Editor’s Note

One of the stories in this issue is called “A Place in the World,” and that phrase perfectly captures how I see the pieces in this issue cohering. How do you—do we, does anyone—find their place in the world? What happens if your place has already been determined or selected for you? What if you don’t like that place? What if your “place” is physical—but then you move? What if you feel like you have no place? These questions have been much on my mind lately as my family and I were displaced for several months because of the fires in our corner of California; they are all questions worth exploring in any medium, and I hope you will do so. I usually talk about the written works in these notes because most issues are built around the themes I find in the writing, and the artwork follows. But the art we publish, and especially the art in this issue, is simply incredible—imaginative, skillful, beautiful, surprising. For instance, in Mountain and Trees, the mountain seems to be floating—or perhaps it is a lake. The ambiguity is unsettling and gives the piece a mysterious, magical quality. Or in Music to my Ear, I love how the curves of the violin visually echo the curves of the inner ear. Though I don’t have the space to talk about each piece, please spend time looking carefully at all of the art in this issue, noticing what the pieces make you feel or think and why. Till next time,


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Tales of Regret

A collection of enigmatic fables Mouse Trouble There were seventeen mice in a small and stiff classroom. Every few seconds you heard a sneeze, and not one mouse really paid attention. Instead, they passed notes and whispered. One day, one mouse handed a crinkled paper to another mouse. The note read: “Yell as loud as you can, and I’ll give you twenty bucks.” The mouse flipped the scrap of paper over and wrote, “Yes.” So, then the one mouse took a deep breath and screeched like 700 banshees. She was sent to the principal’s office as the other mouse laughed and said, “I’m not giving you the twenty bucks. Who are you kidding?!” Vanessa’s Letter Vanessa was going to send her friend Clarice a letter. An important one. She thought she knew Clarice’s address and phone number, but she couldn’t be sure. She could ask her mom, but she was too comfy to move. She wrote the address she thought was the correct address and sent it off. Instead of Clarice’s house, it got sent to people wearing belts and rags. A woman named Lagestry read the letter and smiled wickedly. For she had a wicked plan. The Moon, the Star, and the Sun “I will destroy you,” shouted the moon while chasing a tricky star. “Catch me if you can,” snickered the star, running in a confusing circle away from the moon. They did not know they were actually running around the sun. The moon was big and wobbly and accidentally kicked the sun as it ran. The sun got really angry, and his face looked as if it were saying, “Don’t mess with me, for I am the wrath of angels.” The sun then roared and started after the moon. The sun was very quick and ran right into the moon. Then the moon ran right into the star. Soon they were all bruised and in a tangled mess. Lana’s Flying Lana believed she could fly. Every day she jumped off the diving board and flapped her hands after she jumped. Every time she tried, she landed in the water in a belly flop. She never quit. Analise Braddock, 8Katonah, NY


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Stone Soup Honor Roll: December 2020

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 Evie Humphris, 11 Dessie Mikels-Carrasco, 13 Li Rightmyer, 11 Ruby Xu, 10 STORIES Mayri Carsen, 10 Christabel Fernando, 11 Sage Hyatt, 11 Charlotte McAninch, 12 Ava Munt, 10 Jacob Su, 9 Anna Wetherell, 9 POETRY Benjamin Ding, 9 Benny Dvorin, 9 Linus Fleischer-Graham, 12 Astrid Gothard, 13 Gideon Rose, 9 Mazzy Seja, 11


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The Dew Drop

I wake up, I walk out the door. The dew smells like flowers. As I walk, I feel the morning mist brush against my tired face. I see the daisies so bright and blue. As I touch them the dew falls off and onto my foot, chilling me to the bone. As I walk through the forest the dew falls off the trees and keeps me cold. As I walk home the trees shake in the breeze, all the dew falls onto my face. Now I am as cold as winter, as cold as a polar bear. Esther Hay, 8Ancaster, Canada


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My Earliest Memory

My earliest memory Is seeing my mom for the first time. She held me lovingly. It was warm and snug. She tucked me in her lap, Even when I cried. I was very happy. It was the happiest moment Of my entire life. Audra Sanford, 8Davenport, FL


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Cinka Times Two

Cinka’s birthday wish is granted—in a very peculiar way “Happy birthday, Cinka!” said Cinka’s teacher, Mrs. Reynolds. “I know it was your birthday yesterday, but it was Saturday, so the class will celebrate today. You’re early as usual, so while I prepare, you can have some free time.” “Thanks!” replied Cinka. She didn’t feel like reading, so she got out a piece of paper and some colored pencils. The only thing she wanted as a birthday present was a dog, preferably a puppy, but her parents only said, “Maybe one day,” or, “We’ll think about it,” whenever she asked. The best she could do was make pictures of her dream puppy and look at them a lot. She chose her favorite color of brown and started with a cute puppy face. She kept drawing and even drew a background with a dog bed and food and water bowls. Shadows make things look realistic, but when Cinka tried to draw them when she was younger, they just looked like blobs. Because of that, she left the shadows out. Cinka took a step back from the table and looked at her picture. The tail of the puppy gave a little wag, but that must have been her seeing things. She rubbed her eyes and the shadows seemed to deepen. Wait. Shadows? Cinka hadn’t even drawn shadows! She closed her eyes and counted to ten. That was better. Everything was back to normal. She started drawing an oak tree with spreading branches, and this time there were no weird shadows. The picture felt incomplete, so Cinka quickly made a line of ants before she went to the bathroom. When she got back, class had started. “Put your drawings in your folder and get a dry-erase board before you join us,” said Mrs. Reynolds. As Cinka sat at her desk, she felt something wet near her ankle. When she looked down, her dream puppy was pawing at her leg. The puppy gave a little yip and tried to jump into her lap. “Todd, stop making animal noises right now or I am going to have to send you to the principal’s office,” said Mrs. Reynolds. “It wasn’t me, honestly! I know I did it yesterday but—” protested Todd. “GRRAF RAF RAF RA—” Cinka covered the puppy’s mouth and raised her hand. “Can I go to the bathroom?” she squeaked and ran out of the classroom with the puppy tucked in her arms before the teacher gave her permission. It was as if the animals in her picture had walked right out of the picture and into the classroom. After she locked herself in a stall, she sat the puppy on the floor and stared at it. On the one hand, she was elated that she finally had a pet, but on the other hand, she was worried: Where had the puppy come from? And what was she going to do with it? She couldn’t bear to just leave it in the bathroom, but what would her teacher say? What would her parents say? Cinka checked her watch. It would seem suspicious if she hid any longer. She headed back to the classroom with the puppy and stuffed him in her jacket, which had been tied around her waist. When she got back to the classroom, she pretended she needed something in her backpack but instead zipped the puppy inside the bag with a gap for breathing. When she turned towards the board, she saw a little line of ants crawling up her teacher’s leg. “Uh, Mrs. Reynolds, there are some, uh—” “EEK! ANTS!” shrieked Mrs. Reynolds. She started jumping up and down like there were ants in her pants—probably because there were. While Mrs. Reynolds was freaking out about the ants, Cinka took out her art folder. She had a sneaking suspicion that the puppy and the ants in real life might have something to do with the animals in her picture. Sure enough, when she opened her folder, the backgrounds were the same, but the animals were gone. It was as if the animals in her picture had walked right out of the picture and into the classroom. After Mrs. Reynolds had finally gotten rid of the ants, it was already time for art. Cinka thought to herself that if she had to draw anything, she would leave out the animals just in case. When she arrived at the art room, the art teacher announced that today they were doing self-portraits. Cinka sat at her favorite seat and listened to the teacher talk about how to draw noses. They each had a mini mirror so they could look at themselves, but Cinka couldn’t draw while looking at it. When she was done with the portrait, it was almost the end of class, so she quickly put it in the hand-in box without looking at it. After she cleaned up her supplies and was about to leave class, the teacher pulled her aside. “Cinka, you’ve never done anything like this before, so I’m not angry at you. But why did you hand in a blank piece of paper?” Cinka glanced around and saw herself walking out the door. She barely had time to process what she saw, and the teacher was waiting for her answer. Panicking, she came up with an excuse. “Oh, that must have been Todd playing a prank!” she replied. “I saw him take a piece of paper out of the hand-in box and put a blank sheet in!” The art teacher looked relieved. “Okay. I’ll have a talk with Todd about that. Thanks for telling the truth,” she said. Cinka felt guilty because she was lying about Todd, but she couldn’t think about that right now. She had no idea what she had seen, and the only explanation was that some other girl who looked kind of like her had walked out the door and Cinka had been so flustered that she thought it was herself. But as she