Our January 2024 Flash Contest was based on Prompt #286 (provided by Stone Soup contributor Molly Torinus), which asked that participants write a story based on the classic game: Would You Rather. There were many incredibly creative takes on this prompt, and characters had tough decisions to make. They debated between super speed and super strength, a girl left her hometown–never to return, and a boy chose to change career paths after accidentally destroying cheese shop property with his pet rat. In one submission a Would You Rather spirit even forced a girl to decide between two delectable concoctions: pickle-filled oreos or a poppyseed cake doused in gravy. As always, thank you to all who participated, and please keep submitting next month! In particular, we congratulate our Honorable Mentions, listed below, and our Winners, whose work you can appreciate below. Winners “I’d Rather Not” by Alia Ashworth, 12 “Thankfulness” by Rayansh Bhargava, 10 “Would You Rather?” by Meghan Li, 13 “The Boy with the Rat” by Alborz Yousefi Nooraie, 12 “Two Years Ago” by Vanaja Raju, 12 Honorable Mentions “Balance Has Been Achieved” by Jayan Byrapuram, 12 “Would You Rather” by Angelina Chen, 13 “The Word” by Yuna Jung, 10 “The Spirit of Rather” by Kate Le, 11 “Would You Rather” by Josi Prins, 12 I’d Rather Not ALIA ASHWORTH, 12 “It’s just a game,” I whisper to myself, taking a deep, calming breath. I know it isn’t true, but it helps steady my resolve, imagining that it isn’t the single most important thing I’ve ever done in my life. My cursor wavers, darting from one button to the next. I push a strand of hair behind my ear, my mind racing. The silence of the room, only interrupted by the brief humming of my laptop, is almost deafening. This is I’d Rather Not, an intense game show where 80 competitors fight for the chance to answer one single question. I survived four rounds of rigorous physical and mental challenges to make it into the top five competitors. Now I have twenty minutes to decide my answer to one single question: Would you rather be rich, famous, powerful, admired by the world, but never be sure if those closest to you are only in it for the money and attention, or live a quiet life out of the public eye, but with real friends and real relationships? The catch is, whatever I answer will come true. And I now have 11 minutes and 48 seconds to decide my future. If I choose option one, the next few years of my life will be an incredible whirlwind of lights, fame, riches, and glory, whereas option two will lead down a road similar to what would have happened if I had never been invited to join I’d Rather Not. My cursor hovers over the button for option one. It would be so easy to click it and be ensured riches and glory for the rest of my life. I glance up at the clock. I only have 6 minutes and 17 seconds. I close my eyes, and an image flits through my mind. Me, in sixty or seventy years, laying in a bright, blindingly white hospital, an acrid, overly clean smell fills the air. I’m wired up to a machine, and I can see my heartbeat on a screen. In one world, I’m surrounded by loving friends and family, and in the other, paparazzi. Would I rather breathe my last breath in the company of friends and family, people I love and who genuinely love me back, or the flash of cameras and buzz of recording devices? Would I rather my life be a constant publicity game or a genuine attempt to be the best I can be without conforming to society’s idea of perfection? Would I rather…? I open my eyes, resolved in my choice. I turn to the screen, a smile on my lips. It’s almost funny. I competed for so long, risked so much, only to go back to the way I was before. No, my life won’t be glamorous, I won’t be envied by millions of people. I won’t live my life in the spotlight or be insanely wealthy. But honestly, I think, as I choose my answer, I’d rather not. Thankfulness RAYANSH BHARGAVA, 10 Heimlich Praüse Alaëdor gazed out the window in his room. The sun was setting in the distance, and Heimlich’s mind was distant as well. All that was on his thoughts was his longing—his desperation—to visit Earth. In Qasøe, Earth was a forbidden subject because of the cruelty displayed there by its inhabitants, but Heimlich nevertheless had always wanted to visit this tranquil yet aggressive planet. Whether it was the architecture or the cultures, Heimlich didn’t know. His whole life he had dreamt about being asked whether or not he would want to leave Qasøe and live on Earth, and his answer would have obviously been the latter. “Heimlich Praüse Alaëdor, come down here this instant! You’ll be late for school!” a voice interrupted Heimlichs’ thoughts. Heimlich stood up from his post near his desk, grabbed his packed bag, and trudged downstairs. Qasøe was a familiar place; but Earth was not, and Heimlich was eager to get a glimpse at it. “Mother—” “No, Heimlich.” His mother responded tiredly, as if she’d heard this question hundreds of times before; and she had. “But Mother—” Again Heimlich was dismayed by his mother’s response, and he reluctantly sat down to eat his våflia. He deliberately forced each spoonful down his throat quickly, and then leapt up and waved goodbye to his mother as he headed out for school. “Heimlich, don’t try anything you know I wouldn’t approve of!” his mother called after him. Heimlich just shook his head and began to jog, his backpack waving loosely behind him. The buildings were ramshackle and run-down, with some having loose windows and falling-off doors. “Earth must be so much better than this.” Heimlich moaned. Slowly, he approached the
Stone Soup Magazine for young readers, writers, and artists
Weekly Creativity #287: Draw a Scene at a Hairdresser, Barber Shop, or Pet Salon
Draw a scene at a hairdresser or barber shop where everyone has crazy hair. Or you could even draw pets with crazy fur at the groomer’s!
Saturday Newsletter: January 6, 2024
A World of Color (watercolor) by Leticia Cheng, 10; published in the January/February 2024 issue of Stone Soup A note from Emma Wood Happy New Year, all! Every year, I complain about New Year’s and yet every year, I enjoy the opportunity to reflect on the past year and resolve to be better, in some small ways, in the next. Every year, I also think about what I can do to improve Stone Soup! As many of you know, like many magazines, Stone Soup has struggled to find its footing in the digital era. This year, the Stone Soup board and I are continuing to work hard, re-examining the budget and exploring partnership opportunities, to ensure that Stone Soup can live on and thrive. We are extremely grateful to all of you who donated in 2023; thank you so much for helping support our mission! My high school had a weekly, student-run newspaper I was extremely involved in, as a writer and an editor. Over the break, a friend sent me an old article from that paper, reminding me just how incredible it was to feel like we were doing the work of actual journalists, just on a smaller scale. I learned so much from my time there, and it is where I first began to see myself as a writer. For some reason, I had never connected that experience with Stone Soup! But I see now how similar they are—and realizing this makes me feel even more connected to, and passionate about, what we do. This year, we will continue to run our weekly writing workshops, starting January 27, and we encourage you to sign up for Conner Bassett’s Fiction Writing class, “Six Beginnings, Three Middles, and An End,” while there is still room—we currently have six spaces left! Conner was so blown away by the novels his students wrote in the fall, and is excited to write more fiction with many of you this winter. Yours from our last day in Las Vegas, where we have been visiting family and friends the past couple of weeks, Purchase a Gift Subscription Register for Writing Workshops Support Stone Soup 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.
