Flash Contest #25: Write a Story that begins with “Once upon a time in a land far away. . .” and ends with “. . . and they all lived happily ever after.” Our November Flash Contest was based on our weekly creativity prompt #125, asking participants to write a story–any story–with the traditional fairy tale opening and closing lines. What a difficult task we had judging these entries! We could see that all our entrants had fun with the idea of playing with and subverting the fairytale form, and we loved reading the range of imaginative journeys everyone took. While we enjoyed many stories involving the more traditional witches, royalty, dragons and other magical creatures (not necessarily in traditional mode, though!), we also encountered aliens and were transported into outer space–and even entered the mind of a roll of toilet paper (look out for that one on the Covid-19 blog)! A huge thank you and a hearty well done to everyone who wrote a piece and submitted it to us. In particular, we congratulate our Honorable Mentions and our Winners, whose work you can appreciate below. Winners The Aliens by Benjamin Fraenkel, 8, Mansonville, Quebec, Canada The Queen and the Tiara by Samantha Lee, 11, Thomaston, CT The Bookcase by Iago Macknik-Conde, 13, Brooklyn, NY The State of Matter by Maya Mourshed, 8, Silver Spring, MD The Forest of Mystery by Areesha Nouman, 12, Westlake, OH Honorable Mentions Happily Ever After by Isabella Bixler, 13, Fairview Park, OH The Witch’s Journey by Lorena Manrique, 11, Fort Worth, TX Dragon Tales by Georgia Grace Hoover, 11, Forth Worth, TX The Naughty Princess by Atalie Lyda, 11, Portland, OR My True Self by Michelle Peng, 10, Scarsdale, NY Selected for the Stone Soup Blog Pecky’s Bravery Saves The Forest by Elise Cheung, 8, Danville, CA The Toilet Paper Roll’s Quest by Charlotte Zhang, 12, Portland, OR Benjamin Fraenkel, 8Mansonville, Quebec, Canada The Aliens Benjamin Fraenkel Once upon a time, in a land far away, a rocket-ship landed in the middle of a playground. I know because I was there. I was just walking home from school when an unknown kind of alien climbed out of it right next to the sandbox. Their rocket-ship made poisonous gas and horrible noise. And they themselves were unlike anything I had ever seen. They had two eyes, one nose, one mouth, two ears, hair uniquely on the tops of their heads and their skin was pale! They were also wearing weird white suits. I couldn’t understand them, so I took out my languaginzinator to comprehend what they were saying. Here’s what appeared on the screen: “Who are these weird aliens with green hair covering their bodies, three eyes, two noses, two mouths, four ears, and shiny black skin!?” “No idea, but take out your gun, they may be dangerous!” Gun? I didn’t know what that was, but I was furious. They seemed to be insulting my green fur. I had groomed it nicely, thank you very much! I knew what I had to do. I had to go to the supreme king of Planet Benzadya, King Benzoubi. He was chosen by the citizens of Benzadya because he had gotten the highest mark on the goodheart-measurer. He was a kind, good ruler. “Aliens!? Hamuns? I mean, humans? My, my!” he exclaimed. “I must help them! I have seen how they destroy each other and their planet. I will speak with them, and then I must create a portal to planet Dearth, eh, I mean, Earth.” He bustled out of the room in a hurry. I heard much talk after that, and I even overheard them speaking about something they call “war” where they divide into groups as though to play zorkball, but instead they kill each other! Silly hamuns! We gave them a goodheart-measurer, a device that allows you to detect jealousy, anger and goodness in a person’s heart. And also a copy of Benzadya’s book of wisdom translated into human-speak. We all study it in school here. I have not seen the humans since then, but I can only hope that they brought our wisdom back to Earth and lived happily ever after. THE END Samantha Lee, 11Thomaston, CT The Queen and the Tiara Samantha Lee, 11 Once upon a time, in a land far away there lived a little bunny. The bunny’s name was Tiara, for it had long been told in those parts that if you said the right words, the little bunny would turn into a gleaming tiara. Tiara’s fur was a perfect, sparkling white and was softer than fresh snow on a winter day. Her graceful ears and big eyes made Tiara the cutest little rabbit in all of the land. She would spend her days frolicking in the Caramel Meadows and bounding through the Lollipop Forest. Sometimes, the bunny would go to the far edge of the meadow and look up at the sky where she could just imagine a shimmering castle glistening beneath the clouds, always housing a little princess in a sparkly tiara and glittering gown. As it turned out, Tiara’s imagination was closer to reality than she would have thought, though farther off than she would have wished. The sparkles and light had long since vanished from The Castle in the Distance. So had the glittering girl Tiara pictured. Instead there loomed a stark, menacing castle and a Queen that was both starker and more menacing. The Queen’s imagination wasn’t nearly so lighthearted as Tiara’s. The Queen imagined conquering more wide, green lands and taking more innocent people as servants. The Queen’s favorite word was “more”, especially when it came after the word “much”. One day, The Queen heard tell of the magical bunny Tiara from one of her older servants. A wicked grin spread across her lips and an evil laugh slipped out. The Queen wanted Tiara. She wanted her very much. And when the Queen wanted something, she would do anything at all to get it. Tiara inhaled deeply as she sat in one of her favorite clearings in the Lollipop Forest. A sweet, fresh smell always seemed to linger about there, making the whole clearing radiate a perfect aroma. The berries were
Flash Contest
Flash Contest #24, October 2020: poems that can be read in both directions – our winners and their work
Flash Contest #24: Write a Poem That Can Be Read Up or Down. Our October Flash Contest was based on our weekly creativity prompt #121, another great prompt from Stone Soup intern Anya Geist. It always feels like a little miracle that our writers can craft these pieces of work, and give us two poems in one! Whether we end up with two poems that emphasise one another’s points, or whether the poem says the opposite depending on which direct you read it in, all of these poems really make the reader think, and even when the topic is sad, the form brings great pleasure. It wasn’t easy to narrow the choices down with the large selection of poems on a diverse range of topics, but with Anya’s help we were able to come to a decision. Thank you, Anya, for a great writing prompt and some wise judging! Congratulations to all this month’s entrants, and especially to our Honorable Mentions and our Winners, whose work you can appreciate below. Winners Home by Arishka Jha, 12, Redwood City, CA Perspective by Lily Jones, 10, & Sawyer Hanley, 10, Eugene, OR A diary of a young musician by Alice Ruan, 8, Beaverton, OR Fall Fiesta by Adele Stamenov, 11, Bethel Park, PA War, Love, and Peace by Chloe Zhang, 9, Portland, OR Honorable Mentions Save the Earth by Prisha Aswal, 8, Portland, OR Wild Fire by Cathy Jiang, 11, Portland, OR The Light by Grace Mancini, 12, Glenside PA Fire and Water Collide by Sophie Yu, 12, Houston, TX My Toys by Jessie Zhang, 8, Portland, OR Arishka Jha, 12Redwood City, CA Home Arishka Jha, 12 lost. hope is not truly important and the belief that happiness can exist here is simply an illusion. ignorance is beautiful and life is money, power, destruction, and nothing more. it is unrealistic to believe that we live in a world of happiness, learning, and freedom. we are surrounded by constant confinement. really, there’s no such thing as home. Sawyer Hanley, 10Lily Jones, 10Eugene, OR Perspective Lily Jones, 10, and Sawyer Hanley, 10 By him I am hurt It’s a lie He is nice And what I say next is not true He is a despicable mean guy No, I believe He is kind and caring Never will I accept He’s rude He’s friendly And I refuse to consider He is selfish Alice Ruan, 8Beaverton, OR A Diary of a Young Musician Alice Ruan, 8 Today is the day I will make myself clear I am no good at music And I refuse to believe that Violin songs are heartwarming I hate harp It is not true that I would rather play piano instead of video games Scales, songs and practises are a waste of time I refuse to believe that Music brings harmony I am positive that No one likes music It is not true that Music is strong, and brings people together Today is the day I will make myself clear Adele Stamenov,11Bethel Park, PA Fall Fiesta Adele Stamenov, 11 The wind blows freely Crisp air fills with excitement Leaves glow through the breeze Colors splash above Small kites dominate the sky Dancing in the park Like a fiesta There is always so much joy In windy fall days Chloe Zhang, 9Portland, OR War, Love, and Peace Chloe Zhang, 9 War is everywhere It is a lie that Everyone is at peace It can not be more true that People can not love Only the morons think that The world revolves around love and peace I am sure that We will never see a day of peace It is a lie that Love exists I’d rather believe that Life is cruel and harsh It is a lie that Anyone can be at peace
Flash Contest #23, September 2020: Flash Fiction from the Perspective of an Object – our winners & their work!
Flash Contest #23: Create a piece of flash fiction written from the perspective of the first object you saw when you woke up this morning. Your narrative should be no longer than 250 words. For our first monthly version of our regular Flash Contest we decided to request a piece of flash fiction from an unusual perspective: that of a random object. Given that we asked for the perspective of the first thing the writer saw when they woke up in the morning, we gained a lot of insight into the inner lives of lamps, pets, curtains, toys, clothing, bedding, books and magazines, desk items like pens and pencils, and many other stalwarts of the bedroom. It was so much fun to read the various lively and perceptive voices you gave to these inanimate (or non-human) objects. Many of them seem to take a very dim view of the humans they have their silent eyes on most of the day (or night), especially all the things they witness that they would rather not see . . . We are delighted to share the work of our winners with you on this page. Congratulations to all of them, and to our Honorable Mentions. Remember: the next monthly flash contest will be based on the first weekly prompt of October! Winners “The Silent Stalker” by Chloe Chan, 12, Bellevue, WA “Worst Fear” by Scarlet He, 9, Scarsdale, NY “Travails and Humiliations of a Cotton Shirt” by Iago Macknik-Conde, 13, Brooklyn, NY “Wanted” by Daniel Wei, 13, Weddington, NC “Woes of a Blanket” by Lacole Yang, 13, Irvine CA Honorable Mention “Story of the Bed” by Vaishali Andukuri, 10, Oakland, NJ “Day of a Pencil Box” by Judah Davidoff, 9, Brunswick, MD “The Proud Life of a Blanket” by Lucy Kershen, 13, Norman, OK “The Life of a Lamp” by Chloe Mancini, 9, Glenside, PA “New and Improved” by Sanvi Patel, 11, Midland, MI “Morning from the Eyes of a Doll” by Joycelyn Zhang, 10, San Diego, CA Chloe Chan, 12Bellevue, WA The Silent Stalker Chloe Chan, 12 Ding ding ding! The half-awake girl below me groans loudly as she hears the alarm clock ringing maliciously in the morning. Finally, after rolling around on the bed, she wrenches the teal green blanket off and stumbles–if not sleepwalks–into the bathroom. I see everyone and everything from a bird’s eye view. I know the secrets of everyone. There are some things I would rather not see. Just like when I saw a toddler picking his nose with his thumb. Just like when I saw a laughing mother binge-watch “Kitchen Nightmares.” Just like when I saw the girl make up an excuse to her teacher when she forgot her homework. “My dog ate my homework,” is what she mumbled. The girl exits the bathroom and heads downstairs into the kitchen. Yes! My favorite part of the day! I hear a racket of pots and pans. I smell an assortment of berries, batter, and butter. Hmm . . . is she making pancakes for breakfast today? I look at her, hovering over a brown, spongy pancake with a spoonful of aromatic berries to go onto her pancake. Yum! Oh, how I wish I could taste this masterpiece! But I am unable to do so. You may be wondering what I am. Well, I can’t tell you my answer or else scientists will come after me! Just thinking of this gives me a nightmare! You will just have to guess. At least, I call myself the silent stalker. Scarlet He, 9Scarsdale, NY Worst Fear Scarlet He, 9 I peered through the tinted green tank. Big human woke up. Left room. I swam around. Plants on the bottom of my tank grew. Grew and grew . . . never-ending growing. Soon, my whole tank was filled with the long stems of plastic plants. You could no longer see the rainbow rocks at the bottom of the tank. I swam around once more, dazed. The human had not come back. Where had she gone? All I see is an ocean of green and black. It had been at least a few hours. Human still not back. Plants overwhelming me. I closed my eyes. I drifted to the top of the tank, my belly facing up. My worst fear had overcome me, once again. I opened my eyes. Where was the green? A big grinning face was looking through the tank. The water was clear, like clear glue, and the plants were gone. The rainbow rocks reflected off the tank, casting a shimmering glint. Iago Macknick-Conde, 13Brooklyn, NY Travails and Humiliations of a Cotton Shirt Iago Macknik-Conde, 13 I am a shirt. A red cotton shirt, but fading fast. That’s because of my wearer, thirteen years old and going on six. I kid you not, the brat took me to the Y last Friday and used me as a swim-shirt. First of all, he keeps me on while he changes into his swim-trunks, and there are just some things you can’t unsee. As if that’s not humiliating enough, then I have to swallow the insults from the swim-shirt gang in the pool. “Aye, what’re you doing here in the water, you landlubber!” The creeps talk like pirates like they think that’s cool. Dorks. “Ahoy, scallywag, try to not choke your swimmer!” The swim-shirt closest to me jabbers on, and I realize that air is trapped below my collar, turning me into a buoy. So now I’m suffocating the little moron. Finally the class ends, with the kid half dead, my body drenched, and the seadog losers laughing their hems off. Two days ago, I get some relief at last when the cleaning lady arrives. She puts me inside the washing machine and then lays me inside the dryer for a full-body massage. Best of all, she sets me on the highest shelf of the closet, next to an unmatched sock who has been hiding here for longer than I’ve been alive. We should be good for a few years: no way the brat can reach us without a stool