Stone Soup

Exceptional stories, poems, and art by people ages 6–18

Since 1973
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Personal Narrative·Lina Bhatia, age 17 — “I couldn’t believe when I stopped in here how horrible the customer service was… The girl behind the counter was texting on her phone during the dinner hours with an...

Poetry·Aashna Malhotra — My family settles beside the fire, our shadows dancing behind us. Bare trees sway and shiver; the fire leans from side to side. Scattering sparks that look like restless stars,...

Poetry·Cara Wang, age 16 — a letter to my 爸爸(baba)i’m in my own little cornerof San Francisco as pineapple mint tonicbubbles against my tongue. more mint than pineapple and it’s got that greentaste (like a...

Personal Narrative·Yatharth Chaturvedi, age 9 — I am an artist, I draw and sketch. I don’t paint when I am sad, or when I am bored, I just do it because it makes me more happy....

Poetry·Teresa Cheng, age 13 — A diary reopened, rewritten, for that reason, A page I could not flip from, a chapter from that page. The soft folds of paper were damp, and smudged was the...

Poetry·Teresa Cheng, age 13 — I told myself I’d left it all behind, My cup of life filled up with laughter, lace, But I, far from cured, and far from refined. I swore no hand...

Poetry·Teresa Cheng, age 13 — Not even willing to recall yesterday, every mind strains to remember a bland moment, when forced to cope with times now stuck, the morrow would not let it slip away,...

Story·River Mabry, age 13 — I stepped off the bus, savoring the taste of my toothpaste. I’ve been getting better at brushing my teeth and hair recently, since starting my meds. Obviously, it was expensive,...

Personal Narrative·Ali Kidwai, age 13 — For most of my childhood, my grandmother's bright red Camry smelled faintly of J. perfume, old leather and sometimes McDonald's fries that we had eaten hours earlier but somehow could...

Story·Hayun Chang, age 11 — I hauled a moon-knife from my leather waist belt and chopped up the last strands of weeds from the dry, crispy earth. It’s really supposed to be called a sickle,...

Poetry·Elyse Gillard-Book, age 15 — Your laugh echoes With it comes pain Pain that wades through my mind Past the words to block it My skin tingles A reminder of the days of ago Of...

Poetry·Teresa Cheng, age 13 — There once was a vase with a flower, rosy and plump, like peaches, sweet and soft, slim like a sprout of elegant green, with a graceful figure. She lived in...

Poetry·Teresa Cheng, age 13 — I had no official business near the couch, which is why my head was held high, like an austere national security inspector. I was not a busybody. I bowed to...

Poetry·Ruby Martin, age 18 — Awaiting the rush means I must marinate in restlessness. I’m reminded that once a consciousness slides, it receives a static shock from the Playground Gods in order to bring it...