Silver Specks, collaborative piece (mixed media) by Georgia Marshall; created during the Half-Baked Art Exchange and published on the Refugee Project site A note from Laura Moran Greetings all, I hope everyone’s summer vacation is officially off to a great start! This Tuesday, June 20th, is World Refugee Day, a day of observance to raise awareness about the plight of refugees and to demonstrate a commitment that the world’s forcibly displaced people are not left behind. We at Stone Soup are committed to providing a platform to showcase the creative works of refugee youth. Through the Stone Soup Refugee Project, we have collected over 300 pieces of creative works—including paintings, photography, poetry and plays—from children living in refugee camps and host countries around the world. I invite you to take some time this month to explore the wealth of material displayed on the Refugee Project web portal. The Stone Soup Refugee Project has also facilitated a number of initiatives to encourage engagement between our Refugee Project contributors and our broader readership. Among these is the Half-Baked Art Exchange, the work produced in which you can now explore on our newly created web page! This workshop, offered in collaboration with My Start Project, provided an opportunity for Stone Soup participants to engage with a piece of artwork created by a young person living in Kakuma Refugee Camp. If you are interested in the Refugee Project and are looking for a way to get involved while also sharpening your writing skills, please consider joining me in my virtual studio summer camp, Anthropology of the Everyday: The Art of Creative Nonfiction, July 24th through 27th. In this camp, students will learn to write personal narrative essays using the techniques of ethnographic writing, which emphasize storytelling and “thick description,” and are a staple of anthropologists in their research and writing. As part of the Refugee Project, participants in this class will have a follow up opportunity to participate in an exchange of the creative writing they produce in class with young people living in refugee camps. Additionally, participants’ writing will be displayed on the Stone Soup Refugee Project portal. Finally, please consider donating to the Stone Soup Refugee Project in order to ensure the continuation of this creative outlet for refugee youth and the further development of Refugee Project initiatives such as those described above. With thanks and best wishes, Donate to the Refugee Project today Register for Anthropology of the Everyday Anthropology of the Everyday: The Art of Creative Nonfiction July 24–27; 1–3 pm PT Taught by Laura Moran, cultural anthropologist and Stone Soup’s Refugee Project director, this course instructs students in a method of personal writing called autoethnography that combines storytelling with details about your daily life. Explore more summer camp offerings Intro to Publishing June 19–22; 1–3 pm PT Once your story is written, where does it go? Join Carmela Furio, Stone Soup’s production coordinator, in a deep dive into the basics of publishing. Campers will also learn how to start and run a literary magazine! Intro to Poetry: The Image and the Line June 26–29; 9–11 am PT In this class, Emma Wood, Executive Director & Editor in Chief of Stone Soup, invites you to immerse yourself in what a poem is and what it can do. Students will write their own poetry, shaking themselves out of established modes of thinking. Genre 101 June 26–29; 1–3 pm PT Carmela is teaching a second camp about some of your favorite types of fiction! Explore science fiction, historical fiction, fantasy, and magical realism, and learn new techniques to confidently write in different genres. The Art of the Personal Essay July 10–13; 9–11 am PT Emma’s second course will introduce you to the beauty of creative nonfiction as well posit some ethical questions for consideration and discussion—such as “What if my mom reads it!” Campers will also experiment with the form by writing their own essays. Advanced Novel Writing July 17–20; 9–11 am PT In Writing Instructor Conner Bassett’s course, learn the basic techniques of good storytelling, such as setting, plot, character, dialogue, and more! Brainstorm concepts and share ideas for your novel that will keep readers hooked from start to finish. Freedom through Constraint: Experiments in Poetry & Prose July 24–27; 9–11 am PT In this workshop taught by Stone Soup Blog Editor Caleb Berg, campers will study and use self-imposed constraints such as omitting specific letters and patterns of repetition in order to maximize the untapped potential of their work. The goal is not necessarily to make sense but to excite the senses! Playwriting August 7–10; 1–3 pm PT Conner will also teach a class about the history and craft of writing drama. Campers will ponder the practicalities and philosophies of the art form as well as work on developing their own 10-minute play! Click here to see more course offerings from Society of Young Inklings. Buy one, get one half off! Share the gift of Stone Soup with your friends and family! Free submissions to the magazine, access to 20+ years of digital archives, and new issues bimonthly. When you buy one Annual Print + Digital subscription to Stone Soup, we’ll send you a coupon code to purchase a second, half off! Don’t miss your chance to save on the magazine 100% written and illustrated by kids since 1973. Shop our Summer Sale Stone Soup is published by Children’s Art Foundation-Stone Soup Inc., a 501(c)(3) educational nonprofit organization registered in the United States of America, EIN: 23-7317498.
Another Story for Mita, a Personal Narrative by Isabella Filart, 10
The sobbing was faint at first, echoing to me through shut doors. I curiously wandered into my parents’ room in no rush. My mind was still half-asleep, my eyelids drooping, my movements sluggish. At this point, the sun had not even risen. The door creaked open, revealing my parents and brothers anxiously huddled on the bed. Their shoulders shook, and their breathing was unsteady. I immediately noticed the glow of Mom’s phone, and the motion flashing across the screen. I approached my family cautiously, my presence noticed but not acknowledged. What was going on? Why was my family ignoring me? Why were they crying? The bitter taste of dread flooded my mouth, as even more thoughts raced through my head: Someone probably had COVID! It was 2020, the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, and I was positive one of my relatives was sick, causing this commotion. But who? And how?! We had all been so careful! We wore masks, we stayed home, we even wiped down our groceries. How could the virus have squeezed past all those precautions? I slipped onto the mattress, discreetly swallowing a growing lump in my throat. For a few moments I stayed like that, as silent as a mouse, my ears trying desperately to hear, my mind racing to put the pieces together. I was not used to being left in the dark, much less the shadow of pandemic that now engulfed the world. Finally, after a couple of quiet minutes, I heard a familiar voice saying something about my grandmother, Mita. Suddenly, a new ominous possibility emerged as I recalled that Mita was “high risk.” She had been living with stage 4 cancer for many years now. I remembered the colorful scarves she proudly wore on her head, her talks with Mom about healthy eating and cutting out sugar. Was her cancer acting up now of all times? Did she get COVID? Somehow, within seconds, the situation progressed from bad to worse. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead, despite the fan gently buzzing nearby to combat the summer heat. I continued to sit there, paralyzed in my own worry, as I overheard more bits and pieces of the tragedy: the paramedics could not come to help her… my uncle drove her around for hours before finally finding a hospital that would not turn her away… the doctors were now on their 7th attempt to resuscitate her. And as I listened to all that, as my dread and confusion intensified, and the sobbing turned into wailing, nobody turned around and hugged me tight, promising that it would be okay. What an unforgiving, harsh way for an 8-year-old to wake up. I ran out of my parents’ room, overwhelmed by all that was happening. I launched myself under my covers, screwed my eyes shut, and prayed harder than I had ever prayed before. It was the first time in my life that I really, intensely, legitimately prayed… And I did not just pray. I begged God for Mita’s life, tears finally finding my eyes, feeling the full weight of fear and sadness and pain straining my body. Dad entered my room, his head bowed low, and his shoulders slumped. My gaze met his, my heart somberly hopeful, as he opened his mouth to speak. It was a mere whisper, soft and delicate, but it shook my room – “Mita’s gone…” No, no, no! How could this be happening? How could this be happening to me?! My flicker of hope, a dim light, faded, and all that remained was a deep cavern of black. I tried to breathe, but it seemed impossible in these depths. So, this is what drowning feels like. I choked on my tears as I became fully aware that I would never again feel the joy of my long story times with Mita. Mita Mita video-called me each week, settled on her corner couch with a cup of piping hot coffee and a fancy notebook. She sat poised, as usual, sometimes with her legs crossed, sometimes with her legs propped up on her table, but always prim and proper. She would listen intently as I read my stories, oftentimes for hours on end. She would nod, she would take notes, she would ask questions about my crazy characters and their equally crazy adventures. No matter how cringey my stories got, she appreciated them wholeheartedly. She told me over and over again that I was her favorite storyteller. She told me my stories made her heart happy. Mita was supposed to call again so I could share my most recent story with her. But that was now an impossibility. How was Mita gone… how was she no longer with us… on this earth… smiling, dancing, and brightening the atmosphere? She was so full of life, even in her sickness. She was so strong. She was so special … so special to ME. She made MY heart happy. How could I ever write again? My family and I were in shambles, confined to grieve alone, literally locked down, stuck, and still reeling from the other blows the pandemic had hit us with. Surely my sadness could not be shared with anyone; so much heartbreak already existed among us, and around us. And so, for the next few years, I held on tight to my sorrow, and carried my burden alone, wrapping it tightly around my heart, vowing to never let it loose. A few months ago on my eleventh birthday, I stumbled upon an old shoebox. Inside lay cards and letters from years past written to me. As I rummaged through the stack, a dainty, handmade card caught my eye. I recognized the beautiful penmanship instantly — the scribbly cursive that could have easily come straight out of a calligraphy manual. In my hand was the last card Mita ever wrote to me before her tragic death. I hesitated. I braced myself for what I thought would be a crushing weight of emotions that
The Girl Who Drank the Moon, Reviewed by Camille Paek, 11
Has one book made such a big mark on you that it stays with you for the rest of your life? That is what The Girl Who Drank the Moon did to me. The plot revolves around a girl, Lundi and her caretakers and friends, Xan the witch, Glerk, the swamp monster, and the dragon, Fyrian. The story moves smoothly and beautifully. At the end, the conclusion blossoms like a pink rose in spring. One way it changed me was how I thought about generic “witches” in fairy tales. Most had puke-green faces, warts, and a pointy black hat along with matching black robes. They rode broomsticks and were evil. The witch Xan is not evil, she is gentle and caring, but all the people in the village think that she is evil. The Girl Who Drank the Moon is a fictional story with magical elements, but I think it tackles some problems about stereotyping in the real world, too. Luna’s rashness in the beginning of the story also reminded me of my own cheerful and mischievous childhood. Luna acted so upbeat but ten times as troublesome as your average toddler. Seeing her antics that caused serious damage, like turning a barn into a gingerbread house, made me giggle and shake my head at the same time. It was exciting to see a young me in the book. Finally, when I realized the true antagonist of the book, my first thought was, “Whoa, I don’t want to be like that when I grow up!” And do you know what’s sad? The antagonist could have become a nice normal person. They just made the wrong choices. I plan on not making the wrong choices. The Girl Who Drank the Moon has impacted me in so many ways. It was a great book, and it has changed me a lot. The Girl Who Drank the Moon by Kelly Barnhill. Algonquin Young Readers, 2019. Buy the book here and help support Stone Soup in the process!
