Flash Contest #18: Use a classic opening line as a starting point. The week commencing July 27 (Daily Creativity Prompt #91) was our eighteenth week of flash contests, and produced a lot of entries. Our entrants took the opening words of Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier, Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë, and I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith, in all sorts of creative directions. The pieces we received ranged from stories about extreme weather, to family and family history, and to some introspective narratives. We immensely enjoyed reading all of the writing we received; well done to everyone for your work on this challenge, and especially to our Winners and Honorable Mentions, listed below. Read on after the list of winners to enjoy the winners’ work for yourselves. Winners Wash the World Away by Fern Hadley, 11 (Cary, NC) Streaks by Rachel Feldman, 10 (Narberth, PA) My Manderley by Anna Haakenson, 12 (Beach Park, IL) A Letter by Shuyin Liu, 8 (Kirkland, WA) Pour Your Heart Into the Sink by Alice Xie, 12 (West Windsor, NJ) Honorable Mentions No Possibility by Katherine Bergsieker, 12 (Denver, CO) The Light Will Come Through Again by Sneha Jiju, 12 (Chandler, AZ) Dream and Dream More… by Prisha Aswal, 7 (Portland, OR) In the Kitchen Sink by Allie Dollar, 11 (Monticello, FL) Deadly Heat Wave by Nishil KC, 10 (Chantilly, VA) Fern Hadley, 11 Cary, NC Wash the World Away Fern Hadley, 11 Like Mom quoted Jane Eyre a few times: “There was no possibility of taking a walk that day.” It perfectly describes today. I stare through the window, my chin propped on my hand as I watch sheets of rain fall from the sky in waves, bouncing off the asphalt. Rain is collecting on the window’s mesh board like dewdrops on spiderwebs. For the most part, I love rain. Sometimes when humid storms sweep across the city, I go outside, my arms outstretched, my face turned to the sky. There I’ll stand, my eyes closed as warm raindrops fall onto my face. At night, rain is my lullaby. I can hear the gentle patter of raindrops through my window, and the melodic rhythm soothes me to sleep. But today, the rain appears no more than a nuisance. Beside me, Luna gazes out the window with me with an intrigued expression. I stroke her silvery grey fur as I wonder if she ever wishes she could stand outside in the warm rain like I sometimes do. We don’t allow her out for her own safety, although I think she wants to. “I wish it wasn’t raining,” I confess to Luna. “Now I can’t take a walk.” Or can I? Luna glances at me with wide blue eyes before turning back to the window. Her eyes look like the window’s glass, clear and wet with rain. Sometimes cats are better companions than humans because they can’t talk. “Honey, where are you?” I look over my shoulder. “I’m over here. By the window.” My mother steps into the living room. “There you are. What do you want me to make you for dinner?” “I don’t know.” I rub Luna’s chin as I continue to watch the rain. “If you don’t care, I’ll make lasagna,” Mom offers. She knows I hate lasagna. “Just make Dad’s favorite,” I sigh. “Tacos?” “I said Dad’s favorite.” I glare at her. “I didn’t say Stanley’s favorite.” Mom sighs. She leans against the wall and crosses her arms. “Hon, we’ve been through this before.” “You asked me what I want for dinner.” She ignores me. “Look, I know Stanley can’t ever replace your father. But both you and me had to get through the loss of your father, so please don’t make this any harder than it needs to be, okay? Stanley’s doing his best right now, and I am too.” “Mom, all I said was that I want Dad’s favorite for dinner.” Mom shuts her eyes. For a moment I regret what I said, but then she just turns and walks back into the kitchen. I feel even worse. I keep staring out the window, hoping that the rain would let up. Pulling my phone out, I check the weather app. It tells me that it won’t stop raining until ten in the evening. I grumble and shove my phone back into my pocket. Suddenly, an idea escapes from the depths of my mind. I quickly catch it before it can flutter away as swift as it came. Memories emerge to the surface. That, I inform myself, is a stupid plan. I decide to do it anyway and race out the back door. The screen door slams behind me. “Honey, what are you up to?” my mom calls from the kitchen. “Be back soon!” I yell back. Only moments after I leave the house, I’m soaked. I didn’t bother to bring a sweater, and I don’t care. I fly down the block, the sound of my footsteps lost in the storm. Past the forest. Over the fence. Through the field. Make a left. I run past my house, where Mom may or may not be making Dad’s favorite. I run past the school, the library, the cafe. I run past the mall, the warehouse, the police station. All the while, the storm is relentless. I decide I need a break. I sit down on a bench in the park, catching my breath as the rain drenches my hair. The first time I ran in the rain was before I even joined track. Dad had still been alive then, and he used to run with me all the time. “Where are you two going?” Mom stuck her head out of the kitchen. “Just taking a walk or something,” Dad grinned. Mom shook her head. “ ‘There was no possibility of taking a walk that day.’ ” “What is that—Peter Pan?” “Jane Eyre.” Mom put her hands on her hips. “You shouldn’t be taking a walk in the rain. You two could
Weekly Writing Workshop #18, Friday July 31: Writing About Food
An update from our eighteenth Weekly Writing Workshop! A summary of the workshop, plus some of the output published below The Stone Soup Weekly Writing Workshop is open to all Stone Soup contributors and subscribers. Every Friday, we meet for an hour-and-a-half via Zoom to respond to a new writing challenge, write together in our virtual room, and then share what we have written with one another. Our conversation on July 31 was joined by writers from across the US, and in Canada, as well. Our topic was “writing about food,” and using food to display character traits in our writing. We started our session with an excerpt from Winnie the Pooh, and an excerpt from Alice in Wonderland. In both of those, we discussed how the food mentioned in the excerpt gave us a better sense of what the character in the scene was like. Next, we moved on to an excerpt from Voyage of the Dawn Treader (the fifth book in the Narnia series), where magical elements were combined with the presence of a dinner in order to give us, the readers, a better sense of the setting and the uncanny mix of strange (the place and the creatures) and ordinary (the food and the mealtime). Our fourth excerpt was from Heidi, which is about a girl who lives in the Alps with her grandparents, and is taken away to the city to live with a wealthy family where she is very unhappy. In Heidi, we examined the chapter in which Heidi is sent back to the mountains to be reunited with her grandparents, and the way that food is woven through it to contrast rich and poor, city and country–Heidis brings her grandmother soft white rolls in contrast to her usual hard dark bread–and the joy of tasting and smelling home (for Heidi, goat milk). Finally, we looked at an excerpt from the diary of Samuel Pepys, in which Pepys describes the Great Fire of London, and how he and his friend decided to save some cheeses and wine; and also at an excerpt from writing by Mary Frances Kennedy Fisher, where she uses food to tell a family story, and reflect on her childhood. After this, we set to writing our own piece using food as a core component of the narrative. Read on to experience some of the powerful writing we were given a glimpse of in our workshop! The Writing Challenge: Write a story where food plays a key role. The Participants: Shreya, Simran, Janani, Ever, Liam, Heather, Peri, Madeline, Vishnu, Suman, Aditi, James, Charlotte, Maddie, Shel, Ma’ayan, Sasha, Lena, Kanav, Hera, and more… Peri Gordon, 10Sherman Oaks, CA The Unfair Meal Peri Gordon, 10 When Chester reported to dinner, he found Ana already eating with their host, Mrs. Ray, and not thinking twice about it. When Mrs. Ray spotted him, she seemed to give him a slight scowl. She served him noticeably smaller portions than Ana was getting, and his soup was cold. Chester knew that his sister was always the favored guest over him, being more charismatic than he was and creating no sort of trouble for the host, but Mrs. Ray was taking this too far. He couldn’t wait to get back to his parents, who loved both their children and gave them equal and equally good portions of food. Liam Hancock, 12Danville, CA The Highlander and the Hunt Liam Hancock, 12 “I’m sorry.” His whisper comes from immediately behind me yet from a thousand miles away. As far as I’m concerned, all there is in the world are these caves, these spirits, and my leather boots that hike up to my knees. Worn, leather boots. The kind that I’ve casually slipped into since I could first walk and lift them from the ground and into the air and shoot an arrow and bring home a fattened ox so that we could finally have dinner after a long dust bowl in the summer. I feel his hand on my shoulder. I’ve never before noticed how strong, how heavy his hands are when they’re holding something other than a spear or a hide. Because when they’re holding my two shoulders, it’s easy to forget where he came from. It’s much too easy. To forget he’s a Highlander, and that Highlanders hurt and they slaughter and they throw rocks into our sticks until they feel satisfied with the kill count for the day. Hesitantly, I look up to him. He’s turned away from the cliffside, from the caves. Behind his own build, there’s the Seamstress, gilded with ancient chiseled boulders and carved by time. Never mind what I’ve thought before. Now, the world is back with me. I can’t hold it in my fingers or watch it slip away with the cruel whisper of mountain air. I’m alive. He’s alive. We’re both alive. It’s all I’ve ever needed. The two of us, best friends forever, up on the cliffside hunting for the oxen and hawk that our starving families need. “It’s okay,” I whisper back, afraid that a raised voice will shatter this valley after all it’s years of work. “Let’s move on.” I press on forward, keeping my eyes drawn to the loose trail we’ve treaded since the fall brought us hunger. Gripping hunger. Even as a midlander, I was left grasping for something, anything that could fit into my throat. And even as a highlander, he knew that the cities couldn’t provide for him anymore. For us. “The oxen will probably be up on the Splat,” he warns, pointing in the general direction of the cliff’s edge. “I’ve heard the grass is growing rather fruitfully up there this season.” I nod silently and slice cleanly through a thicket of oasis brush. I’ve never much liked the Splat, especially for hunting, but it’s a necessary evil if we have a hankering for oxen. They can’t get enough of the place. As we wade through Forgery Pond, a frigid little pocket of
Book Club Report: Harbor Me, by Jacqueline Woodson
An update from our fourteenth and fifteenth Book Club meetings! Over the past two weeks, the Stone Soup Book Club has been reading Harbor Me by Jacqueline Woodson. The story is about six children in Brooklyn, NY, who end up talking to each other in the old art room without any adult supervision (they end up calling the room the “ARTT Room” (A Room to Talk)). The kids–Haley, Holly, Estaban, Amari, Tiago, and Ashton–become friends as the year goes on, and they share their problems with one another, helping each other through all of their issues. In our first week of discussion, we focused on themes and characters. We discussed how we found the characters to be relatable, and how the interactions between the characters seemed very real, as well as talking about major themes–such as immigration, bullying, racism, incarceration, friendship, and family–and what roles they play in the book, as well as how they affect the lives and actions of the characters. Next, we talked about what it means to be a harbor to someone, as is suggested by the title of the book. We also shared experiences of either harboring someone, or being harbored by someone, and how meaningful both of those were. In our second week of discussions (our fifteenth week of Book Club!) we started out with a very fun activity! We split the group up into breakout rooms of two or three, and let each group be its own ARTT room. The participants talked about whatever they wanted, and were not required to report what they discussed. Reflecting on their experience, it seemed that most people thought it was fun to talk to people they didn’t really know, and find out what interests they held in common. It seems that the Book Club participants would be interested in participating in more ARTT rooms! Next, we discussed the end of the book; overall, we all agreed that it was very ambiguous. This led to a brief conversation where we discussed if there was a sequel, what we would want it to be about. Most people agreed that they would want a sort of reunion between the characters. Other ideas included: the characters must save the ARTT room from being destroyed, or even having an entirely different set of characters who bond in the room. Finally, we chose our new book, which is listed below! IMPORTANT: Book Club is taking a week off, and will not meet on Wednesday, July 29. We will resume Book Club on August 5. Keep reading in the meantime! The Stone Soup Book Club is open to all Stone Soup contributors and subscribers, age 9-13. We meet every Wednesday at 1pm PST (4pm EST) for one hour via Zoom to discuss our chosen book. Join us! Our Next Book (August 5 & August 12): Paint the Wind by Pam Muñoz Ryan