Our village looks like a mirror without a reflection, lively, but bland. It wouldn’t, normally, but the village of Starry Night just a couple fields away outshines us by a million stars. Literally. Their side of the sky seems to favor the village of Starry Night by thousands, sprinkled with glittering souls of light that send down feathery beams of gold and silver. I lugged a basket of apples into the village of Starry Night, carrying out my mother’s bidding to sell the apples from our apple trees. It was a desperate move—especially when almost no one in their village went outside anymore. The dirt streets were barren, and all the doors of the houses locked shut. Nothing could be heard except for the faint chirping of birds, and the ringing of the church bell, which sounded steadily, a heartbeat for the village of Starry Night. A signal that they weren’t completely hiding. I rapped on the door of each house, waiting 12 seconds before moving onto the next. Soon the basket of apples seemed to grow heavier, in contrast to how I wanted it to grow lighter. I suppressed a sigh of irritation. I didn’t understand why the people of Starry Night were such hermits. As the sky grew darker and the first lights began to appear, I had almost given up. Not a single person had bothered to come out to buy an apple, or at least acknowledge me. I began to doubt the existence of these people. Wearily, I took a break at the front steps of the church and bit into one of the apples, eyes catching on a winding, twisting tower of cypress. It was just outside the village, like a guardian, or maybe a tree of curses. I wiped the juices from the apple away from my chin and tossed the core aside. Standing up, I turned and pounded on the church doors. “Apples!” I screeched like a madwoman. “Apples for sale!” After a while, there was still no response. “Or half off! You can have them at half price!” I banged on the church doors. I desperately threw my body against the door. The home my mother and I had barely gotten was slipping away from our grasp and if I couldn’t drag in at least a little bit of money we’d be living on the streets. Instantly, I could feel the wall I’d built for so many years crumble away inside me. Still, there was no response. “But we really need this money…” I whispered quietly. An overwhelming surge of anger rolled in waves through my head. “Open up!” I shrieked. Hundreds of more stars were starting to appear now, turning their watchful gazes upon me as they radiated in gold, their faint glows swirling slowly. I gazed silently at the heather hills that seemed to be moving along with the breeze. It was so quiet…
story
Castles in the Air, a short story by Anushka, 11
It was a cold winter day when I saw her. The snow was melting after last week’s heavy snowfall leaving the streets a glittering shade of black. There were hardly any cars on the icy wet streets that day. The houses along the street were so quiet I could almost hear the soft swaying of the trees. My sister, Samira, and I were looking out the window of our room on the tenth floor of our apartment building, as we often do, observing the scene on the street. We have a lovely view of Rock Creek Park and when it isn’t foggy or cloudy, we can see the National Cathedral in the distance. Ever since I was little, perched on this window sill, I had been thinking about the lives of people I saw on the street. Since COVID-19, the window had been my connection to the world. I had spent many hours seeing the world through my window. I traced my fingers along familiar scenes on the glass window—the long black road that looked like it could go on forever, the small houses along the road, the grassy patch where the streets intersected at the roundabout. I often saw people walking their dogs by this grassy patch. But something looked different today. I squinted my eyes to take a closer look. Right then, I spotted a jet black puppy with a striking red collar on that grassy patch right by the sidewalk on Eastern Avenue. I saw no owner around. “Samira, look! Do you see that puppy over there?” I exclaimed as I pointed toward the grassy patch. Samira turned her head and her eyes grew wide. It was a tiny little thing. We watched it walk around in circles for a while. We thought it looked lost. Samira and I started getting hopeful. We looked at each other and, without saying a word, we each knew what the other was thinking. Could it be that that was the puppy we were destined to have? What an incredible chance! It was like waking up from a happy dream and realizing everything you dreamt of is true already. Immediately, Samira went to go tell Mama and Baba, while I continued to observe the puppy, secretly hoping no one would show up. I watched the puppy walk around slowly sniffing the grass. It looked like it was looking for someone who wasn’t there. “Hey, little puppy, I will be here for you, okay?” I said softly, imagining that she could hear my voice. Soon my parents came into the room and peered out of the window. We watched their eyes dart towards the grassy patch. Samira and I looked at each other. It was time to implement “Operation Beg for a Puppy.” My parents were skeptical. A stray puppy with a collar did not seem possible to them. They thought someone would surely be around and we just couldn’t see them. They made us wait a little bit before going down to check on the puppy. Now, the whole family was looking out of the window in excitement and anticipation. At least two out of the four members of the family were so restless, we couldn’t keep still. You know which two. In just a few minutes, I imagined how my life would change with this puppy. I was holding her in my arms, looking into her chocolate brown eyes. I imagined her looking at me as she wagged her tail and smiled. I imagined coming back from school and having someone to always be there to greet me. Sure I had Samira, but a puppy doesn’t talk, complain, whine, screech, yell, or cry as much. I forced myself to stop daydreaming and keep concentrating on the puppy, making sure it was safe. While we were waiting, we saw a man come out of a parked car by the sidewalk with a leash who seemed to be calling the puppy. He attached the leash to the collar and carried it back into the car. Noooooooooo!!!!! The dream had ended. All our hopes shattered like a broken chandelier on a ballroom floor! There went our chance to adopt a puppy. We thought that person was the owner and they were probably going a long way and the puppy needed a little break. I guess we would never know.
Saturday Newsletter: May 1, 2021
“Hat Girl” (Acrylic) by Keira Callahan, 12 (San Francisco, CA) and published in the May 2021 Issue of Stone Soup A note from Sarah Have you had time to read the May issue of Stone Soup? I want to draw your attention to a story that caught my eye: “Awaiting a Letter” by Lila C. Kassouf, excerpted at the end of the newsletter. Though Lila doesn’t identify the time period in which “Awaiting a Letter” is set, there is something about the word choices and style that makes it seem like it may be a historical fiction story. Perhaps it is the beginning of the story, where the main character, Celeste, reads the newspaper at breakfast, or the fact that the story revolves around the anticipation of a letter in the mail. For this weekend’s activity, I want to challenge you to write a historical fiction story. You can make it clear in your narration or through the story’s events that the time period is not the present day, or you can make it more subtle, like Lila does, and never explicitly address it. What clues can you leave the reader to point at when the story is taking place? You may want to think about technology, like letter writing, or language, like speech styles and slang. There have been so many great Stone Soup historical fiction stories published over the years that you can use as inspiration. In addition to “Awaiting a Letter,” you can also check out the “Historical” category on the website, or get a copy of our anthology The Stone Soup Book of Historical Fiction, available in print or as an e-book. If you give the historical fiction genre a try, please submit what you’ve come up with! Can’t wait to see what you create. Until next week, Writing Classes and Book Club Are you looking for classes to inspire, improve, and practice your writing with great teachers and a group of like-minded young writers and readers? Join us! We do charge fees for our clubs and workshops, but we try to keep them as low as possible, and we offer discounts to subscribers and scholarships to students who need them. Contact us at education@stonesoup.com with any questions. Writing Workshop: we have two new writing groups for spring/summer, starting April 17, that will meet via Zoom every Saturday except for the last Saturday of the month. Come write with us and share your work with your peers. Find out more and register for a workshop at Eventbrite. To see some of the great work produced by current workshop members, read contributions published at Stonesoup.com, or join us at one of our free public readings! Book Club: a book club for writers that meets via Zoom on the last Saturday of every month, with a new season starting on April 24! Find out more and register for book club at Eventbrite. Check out which books we are reading on our website. Young Author’s Studio Summer Camps: we are offering a wide range of classes through the summer jointly with the Society of Young Inklings. Each camp runs for two hours per day, Monday through Thursday. All details and bookings via Society of Young Inklings. Book Contest 2021 For information on submitting to the Stone Soup Book Contest 2021, please click here. To submit your manuscript, please visit our submittable site. Highlights from the past week online Don’t miss the latest content from our Book Reviewers and Young Bloggers at Stonesoup.com! Young Blogger Allison Sargent wrote an impassioned poem, “If I Could Write a Letter to the World.” Pragnya, 12, wrote a review of historical fiction novel Echo by Pam Muñoz Ryan. From Stone Soup May 2021 Awaiting a Letter By Lila C. Kassouf, 12 (Towson, MD) Illustrated by Keira Callahan, 12 (San Francisco, CA) Eighteen-thousand dollars were stolen from the Bridgeham Regional Bank on Nov. 2. Eyewitnesses say the robber was a man wearing all black, carrying a gun. “He had a slight figure and he ran very quickly,” said one woman who had witnessed the event. This is the third armed robbery this week. Witness reports from each of the robberies confirm it was the same person. —Page 1 of The Bridgeham Times “Maman,” I said, looking up from the newspaper. “Did you hear about the robbery?” “What is it, the third one you’ve told me about this week?” my mother asked, washing dishes at the sink. . . . /MORE 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. Stone Soup’s Advisors: Abby Austin, Mike Axelrod, Annabelle Baird, Jem Burch, Evelyn Chen, Juliet Fraser, Zoe Hall, Montanna Harling, Alicia & Joe Havilland, Lara Katz, Rebecca Kilroy, Christine Leishman, Julie Minnis, Jessica Opolko, Tara Prakash, Denise Prata, Logan Roberts, Emily Tarco, Rebecca Ramos Velasquez, Susan Wilky.
