Short Story: The Animals’ Court

May 3, 2017May 3, 2017 | Allison

Hello there, dear readers! Today I wanted to post this short story which I wrote for school a while ago. 🙂 It was supposed to be a humorous paper, so I hope you find it funny. XD Ahem.

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The Animal’s Court

One clear night after all the lights of the farmhouse had disappeared and only the stars were left, a queer noise issued from the open doors of the old white barn. Of course, no one was there to hear it but the stars, but they all twinkled and sparkled with curiosity, and drew closer to the remarkable scene inside.

Quite a selection of animals were milling about on the spacious barn floor, carefully stepping between holes and past creaky floorboards. Various moos, clucks, barks, meows, and grunts mingled together in loud cacophony, until finally one of the rabbits stamped her hind feet in frustration.

“Order! Order! I demand order!” a large black rabbit named Diamond grunted ferociously as she hopped onto a dilapidated haybale. The animals gradually quieted, the last whispered moos and clucks dying away under the fierce stare of the doe. Once the barn was silent, Diamond continued.

“Now. As you know, we have called this meeting because we rabbits have heard your various complaints and wholeheartedly agree with you: something simply must be done about those pestiferous humans. Tonight the humans are on trial and you, the jury, must give us the verdict: guilty or not guilty. We shall begin with the largest witnesses first, and move towards the smaller. Mrs. Cowe, will you please step forward?”

A large, black and white Holstein cow plodded ponderously over to the haybale, mouth munching casually in time to her slow-swinging tail.

“Yes, Diamond ma’am, Your Honor,” she mooed in her deep placid voice. “You called? Mmm… what am I supposed to do?”

“I hereby request that you unburden your soul to us, your dearest comrades, upon the subject of humankind and its many erring ways.”

A vaguely puzzled look crossed Mrs. Cowe’s face. “Ah, would you… would you mind repeating that, Your Honor?” she said slowly, a frown of concentration furrowing her large brow.

Willow, an absurdly fluffy rabbit, heaved a sigh and shook her furry head. “Never mind, Mrs. Cowe. I’ll translate for you. What Diamond means to say is, can you tell us your experience with humans and explain why you either admire or dislike them?”

Diamond glared at Willow, but Mrs. Cowe looked relieved. “Ah, yes. Of course, Your Honor. Well I think, and this is just my opinion of course, that humans are a bit too intrusive, if you know what I mean. Why just the other day the tallest human-girl was ambling around, poking a strange black box in our faces. I can tell you in nearly frightened me to death! And the way that thing clicked! As if it would explode any minute. I tell you I nearly choked on my cud. I… I just down hold with those folks, even if they do give us pretty good eats, but of course that’s just my personal opinion.”

Diamond blinked slowly. She sighed. Then she said in a dry voice. “Very well, Mrs. Cowe. Thank you kindly for your very perceptive witness statement.”

Mrs. Cowe looked inordinately pleased at this dubious praise. A wide, lopsided grin spread across her great mouth, and she ambled happily back to her place among the animals.

Diamond stamped her hind feet sharply on the haybale, calling for order although the hush still prevailed. “We will now hear a statement from Magnolia the Labrador retriever, or Maggie, as most of us know her.”

Diamond’s iron composure faltered slightly at the sight of Maggie’s wide, toothy smile, despite the fact that all animals had sworn a truce for the night. She gulped.

Maggie trotted happily up to the haybale, waving her tail.

“Hello, Your Honor!” she barked brightly. Maggie always spoke in exclamation points. “I am very happy to be here tonight! I am also very happy to say that I, for one, entirely approve of humans! They are kind, loving, and altogether wonderful pets, as far as I am concerned! I would highly recommend them! Of course, they do need a considerable amount of protecting – there’s a strange beast down the hill from their house that they just do not seem to notice, no matter how much I warn them – but I am more than happy to protect them! Are you feeling happy today, Your Honor? You look exceptionally tast- I mean beautiful!”

Diamond lifted her ears a bit higher at this, and looked more tolerantly at the energetic dog. “I’m feeling alright, yes. Thank you, Maggie. You may go now. Mr. and Mrs. Clukken, may I call you up?”

Maggie’s tongue swept surreptitiously over her chops at the sight of the two chickens, but she immediately regained her self-possession and bounced back to her spot.

Mr. Clukken was always “training” himself to be a world-class flyer, much to the dismay of the many chickens who happened to intercept his unsteady path. Mrs. Clukken was a nervous bird, always clucking softly to herself and casting fearful glances at her overbearing husband.

Mr. Clukken now strutted importantly up to the forlorn haybale and cleared his throat. “Ahem. I believe I speak for all chicken-kind when I say that humans are nothing but a menace, an absolute menace to chicken society. Right, Mrs. Clukken?” he demanded, jerking his head sideways toward his wife.

“Oh, certainly, dear,” she agreed, jerking her head up and down rapidly in emphatic agreement.

Mr. Clukken looked satisfied. “For instance, how are we supposed to continue our line of offspring when they mysteriously snatch away our eggs?”

“How, indeed?” echoed Mrs. Clukken sadly.

Mr. Clukken gave what he judged to be a tear-inducing crow of sadness (but which really sounded more like the cry of a wounded duck), and fluttered pompously off of the haybale.

Diamond winced. “Mmm… Excellent testimony, Mr. and Mrs. Clukken. Now may I call up Jinx the cat?”

Jinx did not look entirely happy to be crowded into this dusty barn with so many disgusting, uncivilized animals, but he merely waved his tail gracefully and narrowed his eyes until they looked properly bored and condescending for such an occasion.

“Hmm, you called, Your Honor?” he meowed in a somewhat sarcastic tone. “I have heard you wish to speak to me on the topic of humans, which happens to be a topic I find most unpleasant. In essence, I live with humans because I would never stoop to the wandering life of a barn tomcat, even if it would mean freedom from human trials.” A scruffy looking tomcat in the jury twitched his whiskers ferociously at this offensive remark.

“Humans,” Jinx resumed, “are a pest. There are no two ways about it. They are always picking you up or nearly strangling you, especially that young human whippersnapper of a boy, and they respond most slowly when called for. True, there are times when a good scratch under the neck is a pleasant way to relax after a hard day, but the costs far outweigh that benefit. If it were not for the regular, though somewhat unappetizing, rations, I wouldn’t put up with their nonsense.”

Diamond lifted a paw. “Hear hear,” she said with heartfelt depth. After a moment, she called up the last witnesses, “my sisters and brother, the rabbits.”

Five rabbits in varying colors hopped forth from the crowd. They all touched noses respectfully with Diamond, then lined themselves up in a neat row. Willow, the fluffiest, spoke first.

“Well I know I’m in the minority here, but I think humans are decent creatures. Sure, they can be pretty annoying when they chase you all over the pen trying to squish the fluff out of you, but in general they’re pretty sweet. They often bring us delicious treats like willow branches or fresh spring grass or maybe a mess of dandelions. Yes, they’re a decent lot, for all their shortcomings.”

Clementine, Willow’s rival, spoke up next. “I object!” she shouted. “I object most strongly! Humans are nothing but pesky two-legged workers of ill deeds. They are always trying to corner you, always snatching you off of safe ground and holding you insecurely in their clumsy hands. And they get so angry when I bite them, as if they didn’t have it coming! As if calling me “Booger Nuggy” wasn’t enough to make any self-respecting rabbit a bit on edge. I mean, really!”

Snickers hopped up to the haybale. “I, for one, agree with Willow. The way to a buck’s heart is through his stomach, as they always say, and humans certainly do well in that department! Mmm, I could really go for some more of that fresh grass…” he trailed off wistfully, licking his lips with a tiny tongue.

Lily, who looked like she had eaten rather too much fresh grass, waddled her large self forward. She said, between wheezes, “I… I think… humans are… pretty nice, even if… some of them… are a little… insulting. But my human… always says my eyes are pretty… so I forgive them.” She batted her large dark eyes, which were in fact quite beautiful, although they were often half hidden by the blubber surrounding them.

Lastly Olaf, a nervous white rabbit with startling red eyes, spoke. “I-I don’t hold with humans. Th-they just aren’t predictable. I mean l-look at me! I’m obviously a d-doe, but that silly human b-boy thought I was a buck and named me O-Olaf! It’s a disgrace, I tell you, a disgrace!” Olaf shook her head remorsefully.

Diamond, who happened to be Olaf’s especial friend, quite agreed with her and proceeded to expound her agreement in such long-winded terms that Mrs. Cowe nearly fell over with boredom-induced exhaustion. Thankfully Maggie nipped at her heels just in time.

At last Diamond reached the end of her speech, and addressed the jury. “Now, my friends and fellow animals, I leave it to you. You have heard our witnesses and must make the decision yourselves. What will you decide? Are humans kind, peaceful creatures, or are they simply pests who make our lives miserable? It is your choice.”

A murmur vibrated through the jury at this. Heifers and tomcats, roosters and does conferred among themselves in loud whispers. Finally they raised their heads and one of the tomcats stepped forward.

“Your Honor, we have discussed the matter, and we find humans…”

By this time most of the witnesses and audience were chanting, “Guil-TY, guil-TY, guil-TY!”

The tomcat waited until the noise died down. “As I was saying,” he glared, “we, the jury, find humans… GUILTY!”

A deafening cheer erupted from the crowd, far overpowering the scattered boos and frowns.

The stars winced a little from their high perch, and backed away from the roar.

“DOWN WITH HUMANS! DOWN WITH HUMANS!” the animals thundered.

Suddenly, over at the farmhouse, a light blinked on.

“DRIVE THEM OUT, WE SAY!”

Another light.

“WE CAN TAKE CARE OF OURSELVES!”

Crunching footsteps.

Suddenly a young calf standing near the door wobbled quickly to the haybale. “EVERYONE, LISTEN TO ME!” it shouted in a quavering voice. “THE FARMER IS COMING!”

A stifling blanket of silence suddenly dropped on the barn; the sound of a hundred voices holding their breath.

The door creaked open. A man stood silhouetted in the moonlight, the beam of his flashlight cutting effortlessly through the darkness. The flashlight fell upon dilapidated haybales, a creaky floor full of holes, and air filled with dust. He squinted his tired eyes, rubbed them, peered into the blackness again, and shook his head.

“Some dream,” he muttered to himself. Then he turned around and walked slowly back to the house. Maggie, a happy Labrador retriever, trotted joyfully beside him. Six rabbits rustled the straw in their cage. Thousands of chickens clucked and crowed in their chicken houses. Many cows raised their heavy heads to look sleepily at him. A meowing black cat met him at the farmhouse door.

“Some dream,” the farmer said again.

And the animals never felt led to correct him.

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Hee hee! I had so much fun writing that. I hope you enjoyed it! Most of the animals in there were our pets, and I drew a lot of inspiration from real life. (We really do have an old white barn with creaky floorboards and holes, and my brother Jeff really does kinda torture our cat, Jinx. XD )

***Allison***

P. S. Oh, by the way, thank you all SO much for your feedback in the last post! I’m so happy you like photography posts because I really do like posting them. I’ll probably post mostly photography, especially in spring and fall, but I definitely won’t only post that because I can’t resist sprinkling in writing, art, and other things like that. 😉 Thanks again, guys!

P. P. S. As you’ve probably noticed by now if you’re actually reading this on my blog, I’ve changed my design! What do you think? I mainly just changed the header and button, as well as the little “About Me” picture and description on the sidebar, but I’m still working on a few more changes.

Happy Easter!

April 16, 2017November 12, 2018 | Allison

It’s Easter! For some people that means it’s time for egg hunts and chocolate candy, for some it means it’s time to devour a huge feast with family and friends, and for some, it is a time to remember the day we were set free. For some, it is a time to remember when Christ was crucified for our sake, how for us he bore the tremendous burden of all sin past, present, and future on himself. And that is no little thing!

If you’ve been a Christian for a while or all your life, truths like this can be far too easy to forget or push to the back of your mind. I know it’s that way for me. But every time I stop and think, really think, about what Easter means, it nearly makes my heart explode.

First of all, I can tend to brush it off and say, “Oh, Jesus was God, so how bad could it have been? And he knew he wouldn’t stay dead in the end, right? I mean, if I knew all that, I could probably do it.” But… nope. I couldn’t. Because even though Jesus was fully God, he was also fully man, something that our puny human selves just can’t get our minds around. That means that he felt every single thorn in his crown and every single nail in his body, and it hurt him just as much as it would hurt you or me. Death by crucifixion was the most terrible way to die there was. Jesus was beaten, stripped, scorned, mockingly “crowned” with a painful ring of thorns, and nailed to the cross. That’s the part that always gets me. I can’t even imagine how much it would hurt to have nails driven through your palms and feet, and then to have to hang there against the rough wood, hour after hour, barely able to breathe, while your blood and life just drain away… it’s terrible to think about anyone undergoing such treatment.

And even though Jesus did know that death couldn’t hold him, he still wasn’t looking forward to the ordeal of proving it. He prayed to God his Father and said, ““Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.” (Luke 22:43) Later it says, “And being in agony he prayed more earnestly; and his sweat became like great drops of blood falling down to the ground.” (Luke 22: 44) Isn’t that a terrible picture? It’s terrible to know what’s coming, and to know it isn’t good. You know when you have to take a test for school or something and you’re just so nervous? Jesus was about to take the hardest, most painful, most terrible test ever, and he wasn’t just nervous. The Bible says he was in agony.

What makes it even worse is that Jesus didn’t have to do this at all. It would have been perfectly just and good to leave us to our sin and let us die a well-deserved death. But he didn’t! Think about it really hard: Jesus loved his creatures, his people so much that he was willing to go through all of that agony for them – even though they hated him!

At least it would have made a little more sense if the people who crucified Jesus had a reason to call him a criminal, but Jesus was no criminal. Since He was fully God, Jesus was perfect. He never made a mistake. Not even once! That’s another thing that’s almost impossible for us to completely understand. Well certainly he must have made one teeny tiny little mistake, right? Wrong. Jesus was perfect, and that means he didn’t mess up – ever.

Then why was he crucified? Because we are fallen creatures that can’t see our Savior when he stands before our eyes. We look at his face and we are afraid. Afraid and guilty and ashamed of our sin. We don’t want someone to tell us how sinful we are and to rule over us. We want to take care of ourselves and live our own lives how we please. So we kill him.

Isn’t that terrible? I mean, think about it! It makes no sense at all – we as broken, sinful humans crucified the very one who came to save us from that brokenness and sin. But it’s true.

That just makes it all the more wonderful. If you met people who hated you with every ounce of their strength, who flogged you and beat you and wanted nothing more than to get rid of you in the most torturous way possible, would you want to voluntarily die for them so they wouldn’t have to pay the price of their sin and die a terrible death themselves? I, for one, would never do that. But Jesus did! He died for the worst of sinners, he died for the people who were killing him!

But, of course, that isn’t the end of the story. Jesus didn’t just die for us, he rose for us too. Jesus is the only one who can conquer death itself. I love the part about the resurrection. When Jesus’ disciples see the stone rolled away and the linen wrappings left by themselves inside the tomb, what a shock that must have been! Had someone stolen their beloved Teacher’s body? But the stone sealing up the tomb was so heavy, and there were two guards in front of it. What were the other options?

And then, when they saw Jesus, how amazing would that have been? If you think about it from their perspective, you can understand why they could hardly believe their eyes at first. I mean, here’s this wonderful man that you love so much, dead. Gone. Sealed inside a tomb. Then one day he appears in front of you, inside a locked room! No wonder the apostles thought they saw a ghost at first. Can you imagine how deliriously happy they must have been when he showed them the nail marks in his hands and feet, and they realize that it wasn’t a ghost but their beloved Teacher, risen from the dead?

And that is the Easter story. Jesus died for the criminals that hung beside him on their two crosses, and he died for us, his people, and not only that, but he rose again. I know many of you have heard that phrase “He died for us” over and over and over again until all the life has worn out of it. But don’t let that happen! That truth, that fundamental truth of the Christian faith, that is what sets us free. It is what gives us hope. It is the most amazing thing you will ever hear, and I pray that you and I will remember it this Easter. ♥

***Allison***

Beauty from Ashes, Part 6 {Finale!}

April 10, 2017April 10, 2017 | Allison

Wow, it has been forever since I added to this. (It seems like I always say that, doesn’t it? XD ) I’m excited to finish this story up. I hope you enjoy this last chapter!

If you haven’t read the previous chapters, you might want to do so here.

Alright, let’s do this!

Part 6

As the carriage glided smoothly over the road, the thoughts in my mind jostled against each other. Should I have stayed with the Prince’s grandmother? She looked like she needed some help. Then I remembered why she told me to go, and my thoughts soared in another direction. I was to meet the prince! Me, dusty little forgotten Ella. Think of that! What would my sisters say when they saw me? My, wouldn’t they be surprised? And then my thoughts would start over again, back at the beginning, a repeating, never ending circle. I thought I had solved one problem only to come upon it again. But I really shouldn’t have left Grandmother…

Finally the circle shattered: we had reached the palace. I pushed my head out of the carriage window for a quick peek and forgot to draw it back in. My mouth fell open and my eyes sparkled with the reflection of hundreds of candles in hundreds of windows, set in a dazzling cacophony of turrets and towers that nearly touched the clouds. A bubbling fountain sparkled in the immaculate lawn, dancing and murmuring to itself in the dying light. Everything was bathed in the soft rose light of sunset.

I almost forgot to breathe.

My glass slippers tapped on the cobblestone walk as I left the carriage, and my heart echoed back every tap with a loud and breathless voice. My hands felt damp and slippery in their soft white gloves.

Two well-dressed men stood at the door to greet the guests. I couldn’t believe that they bowed to me politely as I went in. I was the one who should have been bowing to them! After all, who was I but a lowly servant girl?

But all other thoughts were swept away as I stood at the top of a majestic marble staircase leading down to the ballroom. There were so many people! And so many girls waiting to dance with the prince! Girls who no doubt far surpassed me in beauty and kindness and good character. I thought of all the times I had lost patience with my sisters and stepmother, all those times when I had been so weak and cried myself to sleep, all those times when I felt ready to tear myself apart with anger at myself and my never ending chores and my tiresome, miserable life.

My heart sank. I knew I could never make the Prince happy. He deserved a princess, and I was only Cinderella, the filthy servant girl who swept floors and cleaned fireplaces.

I whirled around to leave, hot tears of shame and self-pity burning my eyes, but suddenly I stopped. The room had gone silent; the music had stopped. All faces had turned toward mine, all eyes were fixed on me, tearing me to shreds from the inside out with their scrutiny. By this time I didn’t care whether my sisters saw me or not – in fact, I hoped they didn’t. I felt terrible, foolish. What had I been thinking? But then the crowd of people turned away and looked with one accord at another figure.

It was the prince. He parted the sea before him and walked towards me. I shrank back, but he held out his hand. He ascended the staircase and smiled his beautiful, brilliant smile at me. He didn’t say a word, but took me by the hand and led me down, down into the sea of faces, all looking at me with wonder and surprise. I gripped the prince’s hand so tightly my fingers hurt.

Then I saw my sisters and stepmother – they were looking straight at me. I wanted to cry out, to turn around, to flee, but I didn’t. I dropped my eyes, and then quickly looked up again. They were looking at me with the same wondering expression that everyone else had. They didn’t recognize me.

Finally we reached the end of the sea of people. The prince looked at me again. For a moment he wore the same amazed, wondering expression that everyone else did, and then he smiled again, wider than ever.

“Oh, Ella!” he whispered joyfully. “I knew you’d come.” I tried to answer him, but all my words were bottled up in my heart. So I just smiled and squeezed his hand.

Then the music started up again and everything went back to the noise and laughter. But it was different. Now everyone kept stealing glances at me and the prince. I wondered if they were inwardly laughing at my disguise. Could they see the real me underneath the layers of lace? Finally I could stand it no longer.

“Why are they looking at me?” I cried to the prince, stepping and turning in time to the music.

He held my hands tighter as we whirled and spun. He whispered in my ear, “Because you are beautiful.”

I was shocked. Was that what everyone was really thinking? I pondered in silence for a while.

“That is because of your wonderful grandmother,” I said at last. “Can you believe that she have me this dress?”

The prince nodded. “I can believe it. But you were already beautiful, even before the dress, Ella. You were beautiful the first day I met you with dirt on your cheeks and an apron over your dress. You are beautiful because your heart is beautiful and as pure as the sun, and it shines from your eyes and your whole self.”

As he spoke, my heart soared inside of me. As he spoke, I knew that I could marry the prince, not because of who I was, but because of who he was, because he had chosen me. I could marry the prince because he loved me and I loved him back. It didn’t matter if I was a servant girl or the fairest princess in the world. It didn’t matter if he was a wild, shaggy Beast or a wealthy, handsome prince. I knew that it didn’t matter at all. Suddenly the words that were bottled up in my heart spilled over, and for hours and hours we talked and laughed and danced as if we were the best of friends – because we were.

But suddenly, I stopped up short in the middle of a dance. I heard something faintly – a chiming clock. With increasing terror I counted each chime. Twelve o’clock. Midnight.

Suddenly I broke away from the prince and dashed through the people. I raced up the stairs, stumbling over my dress. One glass slipper clattered down the steps, but I ran on, panting and gasping for breath.

It was no use. When I reached the top of the stairs, my gorgeous dress had turned into my filthy, soot-stained apron. My hair had fallen around my face in dismal strands.

I was Cinderella again.

Again, the crowd grew quiet. Suddenly, three shouts burst from the sea of faces. Three people hurried toward me. My sisters and stepmother. I couldn’t hold back the tears. I was outraged with myself that I hadn’t left sooner, had embarrassed myself in front of them and all those people… and the prince.

My stepmother spoke first. “Cinderella! What on earth are you doing here? Don’t you know this is no place for servant girls?”

Anastasia and Drucilla just stood dumbfounded. I hid my face in my hands and wept. It had been such a wonderful evening, and now this!

I heard a voice through my tears. “But don’t you understand! Her name is not Cinderella, it is Ella. And she is not a servant girl. She is a princess. My princess.”

My head shot up. It was the prince. And he had… he had called me…

I ran to him and threw myself into his arms. “I will always be your princess,” I whispered.

For a moment, everyone just stared. Then Anastasia broke the silence. “WELL!” she huffed. “WELL!” She beamed me a look of pure hatred, and stalked out the door. Druscilla looked at me with the most shocked expression I have ever seen, and then she dissolved into wails. For once my stepmother’s iron composure had been broken. She gathered up what was left of her dignity and dragged Druscilla after her.

I turned back to my prince. My prince! And I was going to be his princess. He had turned me from a servant into royalty, from a miserable, lonely girl into the happiest girl on earth. He had found beauty in the ashes.

*******

I looked out over the crowd, happy to see Grandmother sitting among them. She looked older than ever, and just as exhausted, but her smile made her face look young. I found my sisters and stepmother watching me intently, but they looked away as soon as they saw me glancing at them. I knew they were ashamed now of how they had treated me, but I had forgiven them. I couldn’t change the past, but I could make the future better.

And thinking of the future, my eyes swept back to the prince. He telling me something, something important. I didn’t hear his words, but his eyes told me what he was saying.

“I do.” I answered. “I will always be your Cinderella forever and ever, until the end of time.”

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Ta-daa! I hope you liked it! Ahh, it feels nice to have finished the story. 🙂

Thank you for reading, dear friends!

***Allison***

WordCrafters 2 Finale!

March 26, 2017 | Allison

YAYAYAYAY! I’m so excited to show you guys the last chapter of WordCrafters 2! To all who participated, thank you soooo much! I loved reading all of your chapters, and you did such a great job! If you need to read through the story again first, click here.

Are you ready to see how it ends? It DID get rather long, so settle in. XD

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“Esme!” shouted Pippin, Vivi, and Katri in relief. Esme looked quite relieved to see them too, but not for long. Suddenly she started talking faster than her friends had ever heard her talk.

“Guys, we have to find Devin! I was looking for unicorns but then the ground opened up and I fell into this weird underground place and this really mean guy grabbed me and hurt me but then Devin came and saved me but all the sudden a super scary dragon or something appeared and the mean guy was going to catch us both but Devin fought him and saved my life AGAIN but now I don’t know where he is and Daisy said he’s in danger and… and…” Esme stopped for breath, then broke into tears. “Now we have to save him.” She raised her teary eyes to look at Vivi. Vivi dropped her head and kicked at the ground, muttering something under her breath. Pippin looked a little stunned that Esme had just talked faster than he ever had, and Katri… Katri had her face in her hands.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“For what?” Vivi said, a little ferociously.

Katri breathed a trembling sigh. “Well… that ‘mean guy’ was…” her voice dropped even lower. “My father.”

Everyone’s head shot up.

You could practically see the steam hissing out of Vivi’s ears. She gritted her teeth so hard you could hear it and shot imaginary flaming daggers at Katri.

“Listen,” she hissed. “I know Devin isn’t my favorite person in the world, but did your dad really have to do all that to him? And what about my friend Esme? Huh? Oh, and what about you? Are you hatching a secret plan to kidnap all of us?” She bit off each word sharply, as if snapping a cracker in two.

Katri backed away. “No, no! I promise I’m on your side! I mean I was supposed to be against you guys at the beginning, but once I really met you, I knew I never could be.”

Pippin spoke up. “Hey, but how do we know you’re telling the truth? I vote we use some Honesty Powder on her.”

Katri dropped her head again. “It’s not real. It doesn’t work.”

Now it was Pippin’s turn to explode. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT DOESN’T WORK? And how do we know that you’re not lying to us AGAIN?”

By now tears were rolling down Katri’s face. “Please,” she whispered. “Please, you can trust me now. I… I want to be your friend, not your enemy.”

“STOP!” Esme wailed. “Can’t you see how much you’re hurting her? Can’t you see she’s telling the truth?” She looked disapprovingly at her friends. “And you know arguing isn’t going to save Devin, no matter how mad we are.”

For a moment everyone was silent, ashamed and taken aback by Esme’s unaccustomed air of authority.

Pippin and Vivi both sighed at once. “Sorry, Katri,” they mumbled.

Katri gave them a little smile and wiped her eyes. “It’s alright.”

Esme let out a long breath. “Okay, is everyone good now? Because I really want to go find Devin.”

************

They were quite a procession walking down the path: two girls (one astride a fuzzy gray unicorn), one boy, a fairy and an elf (who were keeping their distance), and a tiny baby dragon who had started it all.

Katri led the way, flying quickly until they reached her father’s “office” a.k.a dungeon where Devin was held. They all stayed outside while Katri slipped in stealthily to find Devin’s cell. Finally she appeared at the entrance. “Number 38” she said quietly.

Daisy, Faun, and the baby dragon stayed outside, but the rest of the friends all tiptoed down the long, dark hallway where the voices and moans of prisoners echoed off the wall. Esme moved closer to Vivi. Finally they reached cell number 38. There was Devin, sitting dejectedly on the hard stone cot at the back of the cell.

Pippin’s face lighted up when he saw his brother. “Psst, Devin!” he hissed. “Over here!” Devin looked up quickly, clapping a hand over his mouth to stifle a yell.

“I knew you would find me!” he beamed. He and Pippin grinned at each other for a moment until Devin’s smile faded. “Um, excuse me for asking, but what do we do now? How are you going to get me out?

Katri clenched her fists. “Leave it to me.”

****************

Thirty long, slimy minutes later, the whole troop emerged from a trapdoor in the ground, covered from knee to toe in gooey greenish mud. Daisy sniffed them disapprovingly, and the dragon and elf on his back turned away in disgust.

Esme gasped and fell onto the grass. “I hope… I never… have to do that… again,” she said between gags. She looked ruefully at her lovely black hair which was currently striped with a startling shade of mossy green. “Why doesn’t your father clean up those passages every once in a while?”

Katri shrugged. “He only ever uses them in case of emergencies, which we haven’t had since… well, since a long time.”

Vivi scowled. “Well you’d better be grateful Devin, after all that.”

“Oh, I am!” he beamed Vivi a sincere smile, which quickly melted her scowl.

Suddenly they heard footsteps rounding the side of the cave. There was no time to do anything but stand still, looking scared.

It was Katri’s father.

“RUN!” Katri screamed. “FOLLOW ME!”

For a moment, Katri’s father was too stunned too move. His daughter was helping those children? She should be hurting them. His shock gave them just enough time to disappear into the woods, only stopping to rest when they finally reached the main path.

“Now that was close,” Pippin panted. “Too close. Let’s just get this dragon back to its home without any more mishaps, okay?”

And they did – mostly. Most of the tenser moments were caused by words rather than actions, like the time when Pippin referred to Daisy as a “she.”

“FOR THE LAST TIME, I AM NOT A ‘SHE’!” Daisy exploded. “MY NAME IS DAISY AND I AM A VERY IMPORTANT, VERY RARE MALE UNICORN THAT CAN SURVIVE ONLY IN DAISY FIELDS, OKAY? OKAY! WHY DOES EVERYONE HAVE TO TEASE ME ABOUT MY NAME?!”

Pippin grimaced. “Sheesh, okay. You don’t have to take it so personally, Mr. Daisy.” He grinned at the unicorn’s indignant huffle.

Or the time Katri and Faun got in an argument about whether fairies or elves were the best. (“At least I don’t have an evil father,” Faun said triumphantly.)

Or that time when they thought they lost the baby dragon (again), but found him curled up in Pippin’s pocket. (“Oops. Heh heh. Honest, I just forgot he was in there!”)

But the worst of their adventures happened when they finally reached their journey’s end. Esme stared at the wicked-looking mountain looming over them. “Th-the baby dragon lives here?”

Katri nodded grimly. “That is the happy home of Snow White. The worst, most bitter person I know besides my dad.”

“Hold on,” Esme squealed. “Did you just say SNOW WHITE?”

Katri nodded again.

“But why is she such a bad person now? I thought she was good!”

Katri sighed. “It’s a very long story. But pretty much she was jealous of my sister Ariel”

“Wait, as in Ariel the MERMAID?” Esme broke in.

“Yes,” Katri said shortly. “So anyway, she was jealous of my sister so she basically banished her from this world and now no one knows where she is, and that’s why my father’s the way he is.” Katri hung her head. “That’s why I am the way I am. We miss her, so terribly. It’s horrifying to think that she could be anywhere – even in the human world! That’s why we staged the dragon egg thing in the first place. We need people like you to find Ariel for us – we could never pass unnoticed among humans. I was supposed to assign you this journey as at test, to see if you were up to the task. But it was a test for me too, and I failed. Miserably.”

Everyone was silent for a moment, digesting this large chunk of information. Then Vivi spoke up.

“But… if you’re on our side, why did you make us take the dragon all the way here instead of taking him yourself and letting us go home?”

“Because my father programmed the compass not to take you home until you completed your mission… at which time he and I would show up at Snow White’s mountain and blackmail you into agreeing with our plan before you went home to search for Ariel.”

“Oh.” Devin said in a small voice, the magnitude of this adventure finally coming home to him.

Esme looked around nervously. “So why isn’t your father here now?”

“Because he wasn’t prepared to leave his duties this soon and come here. Not to mention the fact that Daisy was a very helpful transportation device.” Daisy whinnied proudly. “But you’re right, he’ll probably be here awfully soon. You’d better leave while you can.”

As if Katri had conjured him up on the spot, a dark speck appeared in the sky. Katri’s father on his terrifying flying beast.

And he was flying fast.

“OH NOOOO!” Esme wailed.

Katri jumped into action. “Here, quick! Where’s your compass? Who has it?” Everyone looked at each other with terrified blank stares.

Then, “I have it,” Faun jumped up, holding the precious compass in her tiny hands.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. “Here, let me have it,” Vivi demanded. She grabbed the compass and slammed it hard onto the mountainside.

It didn’t break.

“NOOOOO!”

“My father’s trying to deactivate it!”

The black dot was a dot no longer. It was a terrifying, fire-breathing arrow shooting straight for them.

“Here, let me try,” Devin said frantically. He scooped up the compass and heaved it downward with a mighty effort.

It shattered.

Everything went blindingly bright, but before she totally disappeared, Katri shoved something into Esme’s hand.

“For when you come back,” she shouted above the whirling, swirling noisy light surrounding them.

“WE’RE COMING BACK?” Esme screeched, but it was too late. She could see nothing now, feel nothing except the hard object in one hand and the strong grip of Vivi on her other.

And then they were home. The birds were singing, the sun was shining, and everything was exactly like it had been the minute the dragon had hatched. But everything, everything had changed.

The four friends looked at each other, blinking and shaking their heads. They gathered around the object in Esme’s hand.

It was a small, leather journal stamped with strange characters on the front. Slowly Esme opened it. Katri’s Diary. STAY OUT! Proclaimed the first page in bold letters. Then, Esme knew. Katri had given them her precious journal because she had not had time to answer all their questions. And she knew something else, too.

They were going back someday.

________________________________________

There, done! So how did you like it? Did you see what I did there at the end? I don’t know if you remember or not, but Snow White was the one who captured Alalia and Jacob in WordCrafters 1, because she was jealous of a certain Ariel and needed their help. Hmmm… Hee hee! If that doesn’t make sense, don’t worry. It should make sense later when… well, you’ll see. 😉

Well this has been quite a long post already so I won’t go into many details about WordCrafters 3, but suffice it to say that there WILL be a WordCrafters 3, hopefully around June, and Josie and I have some very exciting plans for it!

Thanks once again for helping us create this wonderful, fun story, guys. Give yourselves a round of applause. 😀

***Allison***

What to Learn from Good Books {A Writer’s Guide}

February 28, 2017 | Allison

what to learn from good books (800x533).jpg — {image via unsplash.com}

Hello, dear readers! I finally got around to writing this post. 🙂 I’m so happy that you guys liked the last writing tips post, and I hope this one will prove helpful too!

I’ve been reading plenty of books lately, and I always naturally pick them apart a little when I read. I wanted to share with you guys some of things I’ve learned just by reading, because that is an great way to improve your writing: read good books. Not just interesting, fun to read books, but books that you admire for the author’s writing style, books you wish you could write. Poke around the pages and try to notice what you like about the book. Is it the characters? The words? The images the writer calls to your mind? Always be on the lookout for your own writing tips.

A little disclaimer before we start: I am by no means a professional writer. I don’t even write that often, actually! (Except for plenty of blog posts. XD ) I just thought I’d share these tips which I need to remember, and hope they help you too.

******

Okay, so want I want to do is give you two wonderful examples of books (or rather, series) that I have learned a lot from. They each have good things to emulate and bad things to stay away from. Then I’ll do a general summary of some tips I learned from good books. Are you ready? Let’s start with my all time favorite…

The Mysterious Benedict Society

AHH I LOVE THIS BOOK! It’s so clever and suspenseful and entertaining and… well, you’ll see.

Originality: One of the top things that draws me to a book is how originally or creatively the author tells the story. That’s something I have trouble with: coming up with original plots. Although I can’t say the basic plot of MBS is super original (in a nutshell, four children work as a team to save the world from the terrifying plans of an evil genius), the details and characters are pretty creative. I would never have thought of many of the interesting characters or the delightful riddles and puzzles that intrigue you as a reader.
Interesting and Relatable Characters: This is one of my favorite things about the MBS. Each character is unique. Reynie is the leader of the children, a thoughtful and intelligent boy who has always felt out of place. Sticky, the worrier, has a photographic memory and a mysterious and unhappy past. Kate is a bright, athletic girl who always carries a red bucket filled with everything you could possibly need in an emergency. (She and Sticky especially have some of the funniest quirks and characteristics.) And Constance… well, the children don’t know quite what to make of the tiny, sleepy girl who’s always complaining, arguing, or making up terrible poems. Even though the children are so different from ordinary children, you can still relate to them and their worries and triumphs. Some other interesting characters are Mr. Benedict, who has a strange condition that causes him to fall asleep at inopportune moments; “the pencil woman,” aka Number Two, who hardly ever sleeps, is always famished, and is too embarrassed to use her real name; and Milligan, a sorrowful, weatherbeaten man with a very mysterious and surprising past.
Mystery and Plot Twists: I love all the mysteries, the many plot twists, the clever riddles, and the can’t-put-it-down factor of this book. Almost any story can be improved by an element of unknown. It keeps the reader hooked.
Skillful Writing: I also appreciate Trenton Lee Stewart’s excellent writing style. I think this is why the MBS is still at the top of my list. Other books may be more exciting or interesting, but very few are as well written as this one, in my opinion. His style is very natural, interesting, and sometimes funny. The way he wrote the book with a mix of old and new technology makes it seem timeless and not old-fashioned, and I like the way the author brings out the characters’ story rather than focusing too much on the time period or setting. He has mastered the art of invisibility, he lets the characters tell their own story.
Slow Beginnings: The one thing that I think could be improved upon is a quicker start to the book. It’s a little slow at first, which was fine with me, but as an author you have to be quick on your feet to keep readers from abandoning you before they even get started.

Keeper of the Lost Cities

This is one of the most exciting series I’ve ever read! It is sooo hard to put down.

Suspense: This book is SO suspenseful! Sharon Messenger nearly drives you crazy with all the mystery and suspense, but in a good way. 🙂 I believe the key to keep your readers reading is to leave out a few important facts that they can’t wait to uncover. The author is a master at that! If anything, I think she goes a bit overboard. There are so many mysteries that Sophie, the main character, has to figure out for herself, and you can’t help but wait with bated breath for her searching to pay off.
Interesting Character Relationships: Keeper is a lot different than the MBS in this way. I mean, the character relationships are both good, but the ones in Keeper are just… different. The relationships are more complex, and she develops the characters so well, they feel like real people! You feel very close to the characters and this makes it easier to fall into their world. Which brings us to…
Well-Developed Setting: Shannon Messenger takes extreme care in creating the elvin world. She provides enough background information to make the world believable. She makes you think, “Well I know this isn’t true, but it almost could happen.”
Poor writing style: PLEASE DON’T KILL ME, KEEPER FANS! XD This is strictly my opinion, and I’m sure there are lots of people who absolutely love her writing style. Anyway, there are several things I don’t care for. Number one, it does not seem very natural. The author seems to be trying hard to make the story even more suspenseful by adding, for instance… Way. Too. Many. One. Word. Sentences.

And her paragraphs are one-lined a lot.

Like this.

I think one-lined paragraphs are extremely useful when used in moderation, but when you overuse them it gets tiringly dramatic. True, in some ways it is easier to read, but on the other hand, it’s almost too easy. My brain likes it better when it has to work just a little bit to extract the story. And number two (or is it three?), I don’t appreciate how modern the words are. That is just my preference, but I don’t like how she uses such casual, sometimes slang language. I would enjoy reading it much more if she had more of the timeless style that Trenton Lee Stewart does. That’s probably THE main difference I like the MBS better than Keeper: because of the writing style.

Alright, I’ve gone over a few of the things I like and dislike about two certain books, but now I want to summarize some general tips that go for pretty much all fiction books.

Be Original: Use words no one else has used to tell a story no one has ever told before. Don’t tell a story that’s already been told unless you can tell it in a more interesting way. Stay away from clichés and make up your own metaphors and descriptions that no one else has thought of, to give your readers an interesting perspective on your subject. No one needs to tell us again that her eyes were as blue as the sky; what about as blue as the mountains where she came from?
Keep Them Reading: Don’t let the reader know everything. Things left unsaid make the him want to keep reading. Plot twists and mysteries are handy little tools that really go a long way towards making your book a can’t-put-it-down-er.
Spend Time on Your Characters: I personally think characters are one of the most important part of the book – sometimes even more important than the plot! Think about it. Some adventure stories, or stories without much of a plot, can survive because you’re just reading for the characters. You laugh at their antics and cry at their tragedies, because they have become your friends. While you read about them, they are real people. That is your goal as a writer, to make your characters seem like real people. Rereading the book should mean visiting old friends, not just remembering the plot you already solved. So, spend time on your characters. The best characters are relatable, which means they aren’t perfect, just like you, and just like the reader. Just like everyone. Good characters have quirks and fears and likes and dislikes just like real people. And believe it or not, not everyone in the real world is an orphan or a princess. (Even though, sadly, there really are the former if not many of the latter.) But don’t make the character too imperfect or he’ll become a one-sided bad guy. Give your character some good traits so that the reader wishes he or she could have too. And as for character relationships, I’ve noticed that a little bit of romance (even just a tiny bit, not anything too gross XD ) makes the book more suspenseful and interesting. But that, of course, is up to you and your tastes.

And thus concludes my lengthy opinions! I hope this was helpful to you guys. 🙂 What writing tips have you learned from good books?

Thanks for reading!

***Allison***

The Dust Pixies, Part 8

February 16, 2017 | Allison

Wow, it has been forever since I posted an episode of The Dust Pixies! If you haven’t read the story yet, click here to see it so far. And here’s a little refresher from the last chapter:

This was too big for four dust pixies to handle by themselves. We needed help. We needed Rosalind.

Rosalind perched on the side of her bed, her chin in her hands, her blue-gray eyes opening wider and wider as I told the sad tale.

“And oh, you’ve just got to help us, Rosalind!” I finished. “How are we supposed to save two of our friends from a band of bloodthirsty fairies by ourselves?”

Lyri held up her hands. “Whoa there, Mae. I wouldn’t call them bloodthirsty, exactly. Just a little…”

“Crazy?” Fiona interjected helpfully. She had quickly made friends with Rosalind, but Petre, on the other hand, cowered behind me, his little hand gripping mine for dear life.

Rosalind finally spoke. “So let me get this straight. Finn went out to collect supplies for him and his wife, who apparently is the fairy Princess, but then the Princess’s friends and family KIDNAPPED him because Finn married her and then they kidnapped the Princess too for good measure? Sounds like such a sweet group.”

Fiona rolled her eyes. “They’re crazy, I’m telling you. And they’re fairies. What more could we expect?”

“They’re not all bad,” I said, remembering Eli. “And what about Annabelle Rose? She’s one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met, even if she is a little dramatic.”

Lyri nodded in agreement. “So we all know they need to be rescued, but how?”

We all stared at each other blankly.

Petre sneezed. Twice.

“Sorry,” I apologized to Rosalind, “Petre is allergic to dust. It’s rather unfortunate since he’s a dust pixie and all, but…”

“That’s it!” Rosalind sat up suddenly, sending us all tumbling into the valley she had made in the bedcovers. “Oops, sorry,” she winced. “But I have it! I have a plan!” She grinned mischievously. “But first, you all need a bath.”

*************************************

It’s a good thing my parents weren’t there to hear us, because judging by the bloodcurdling screams and shouts and yelps, they would have thought we were being mauled by a house cat or something. Okay, so maybe the water wasn’t that bad, but if you’ve never had a bath in your entire life, you’d be terrified too. I couldn’t believe Rosalind had betrayed us like this.

I put on my best angry face as I finally climbed out of the bubbles and put on my clothes. Rosalind had even washed those too! I gave the teacup-bathtub a kick in passing, and yelped when warm water sloshed out onto my foot. Hmph.

I peeked out from behind the makeshift curtain Rosalind had folded from a sheet of notebook paper. Apparently Fiona and Petre hadn’t particularly enjoyed their baths either. They both wore a frown, clean clothes, and soaking wet hair. Lyri, on the other hand, was smiling.

“It actually feels kind of good to be clean, don’t you think, Mae?” she asked brightly.

All I could work up was a “Hmph.”

“So, traitor, are you ready to tell us that marvelous plan of yours now that you’ve finished torturing us?” Fiona poked Rosalind’s arm.

Rosalind laughed. “Oh you babies. The water didn’t hurt you, did it? And besides, you need to be clean in order for my plan to work. You can’t look like a fairy if you’re covered in dust.”

“WHAT?!” we exclaimed. We were going to be disguised as fairies now? Oh boy, why did we have to come to Rosalind in the first place?

*************************************

I had to admit, Rosalind was a pretty great disguise maker. I twirled and whirled in my new dress made of willow leaves and decorated with tiny whit flowers, then caught Fiona’s hand and twirled with her. Her dress was shorter, and made of silky lavender flower petals. Petre was not so impressed with his maple leaf shirt and pinecone hat. His little lips were turned down in a pout. But when Fiona stepped out from behind the paper curtain, we all gasped. She looked like she was made to be a fairy. Her long brown hair tumbled down her shoulders and onto her delicate fern dress. Rosalind had woven her a sparkling headband from something in her room that looked natural but probably wasn’t. You could never tell with humans.

{via}

Oddly enough, I felt like crying. Lyri looked so much like a fairy with her clean, beautiful face and new clothes that I felt like I had lost my friend and was seeing someone else. But instead of crying I smiled, and twirled with Lyri too.

Rosalind cleared her throat. “Well, girls, I’m glad you like your dresses and all, but we should probably get started. We want to get there well before dark.” I shivered. Yes, I definitely did not fancy creeping around the Inner Forest at night.

So out we went.

It took us a while to reach the woods, but when we reached them, I wished we hadn’t. It was just as spooky as last time – spookier, maybe, because we knew one of the dangers that lurked inside. And we didn’t only know it, we had come to fight it.

The woods were silent, but somehow it didn’t feel like silence. The lack of sound pounded in our ears until it nearly deafened us, and the heavy air pressed about us as if trying to force us back, back, out of the forest with its secrets and mysteries, out into the light where we belonged.

But we didn’t obey the silence.

Finally we heard something – the faint sounds of arguing voices.

Fairy voices.

We all halted, and peered through a prickly holly bush at what could only be a fairy camp. The fairies’ tents were set around a tiny fire that sent up a tiny wisp of smoke in the middle of a tiny clearing. The tents were camouflaged; they were made of a light but strong fabric of woven grass and leaves, supported by a frame of slender twigs. Rosalind could crush it all in one step, I realized with a mixture of awe and horror.

Then I saw the fairies.

Three of them had appeared at the entrance of one of the tents, arguing and waving their hands in a frenzy. I instantly recognized the midnight skin of Reuven.

He was shouting at the other fairies in an angry voice. “I say kill the pixie. Kill him! Once he’s done with, Princess Annabelle will have no reason to return to that miserable human dwelling.”

Another, younger fairy whom I didn’t recognize interrupted Reuven in a somewhat calmer voice. “But Reuven, Sir, don’t you think he could be useful to us? He knows the ways of the dust pixie and we can teach him the ways of the fairy. He would be the perfect spy. And Princess Anabelle is here now. We won’t let her go so easily this time.”

“Besides,” the other, taller fairy broke in, “killing the Princess’s husband is not exactly the way to win her over, if you know what I mean.”

Reuven was silent a moment, considering the advice. “Fine,” he said in a low voice. “I agree. Being the man who killed the Princess’s husband is probably not the best tactic. So maybe he’ll just suffer an ‘accident.’ ” He lifted his chin, dark eyes glinting.

Rosalind gasped, then shut her mouth tightly. We all looked at each other with panic in our faces.

It was time to put our plan into action.

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Cliffhanger! 😀 Hee hee! I hope you enjoyed that, guys. 🙂 Thanks for reading!

***Allison***

P. S. We dusted off (literally) an old record player that we have, and my siblings have been listening to old records all day. They even found a record from 1989 that played a milk advertisement! XD

Generations {A Farm Girl Essay}

January 30, 2017 | Allison

Hey, guys! I’m going to do something a little different today. I had to do an interview for school, so I interviewed my mom and my grandmother who were both farm girls growing up. I wanted to compare their growing up years to mine, and show the changes and similarities of their world versus ours. And, as you have probably guessed, I decided to post my essay on here too – but in a much revised and shortened form (it was 7 pages long originally XD ).

Note: Italic notes in the answers were added for you guys – they weren’t originally in my essay. 😉

I hope you enjoy it!

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Gram:

What did you do for fun?

Gram and her siblings loved playing in the creek, but unfortunately the “bloodsuckers” (leeches) loved it when they played there too. “After we played we’d check our toes, ‘cause usually between our toes there were leeches, so we’d pull them off and put them on the grass to die.” Gram said they didn’t think about it too much at the time, but looking back it seems pretty gross. Blech! It sure does! I haven’t encountered leeches very often, but the few times I have were not very pleasant. 😛

Isn’t this so cute? Poor little barn kittens. XD “We’d get our doll clothes out and find the bonnets and the dresses,” and then “[We’d] dress up our kittens and take them out in our little doll carriages and ride them around. Talk about a lot of fun!”

What are a few of your school memories?

“We had to walk down the blacktop to the bus stop, and while we were waiting, we’d pick up beer cans. If you stomped on them, they’d stick on your shoes.” Back then, Gram says, the fad was for kids to put little gadgets called “heel taps” on the bottoms of their shoes which made clinking, tapping sounds when they walked. The popular kids and the rich kids had those heel taps, but Gram and her siblings didn’t. But that didn’t stop them – who needed heel taps when you could make your own from old beer cans?

What was the technology like? What toys, clothes, etc. were popular?

Growing up, Gram’s family had just one phone, a rotary phone, and it was right beside their Dad’s chair. When they answered the phone, their Dad was sitting right there, and he could hear every word they said. So when Gram and her siblings got boyfriends and girlfriends, they finally convinced him to get a longer cord for the phone so they could step into the bedroom for a little privacy! Yikes! Isn’t that funny? XD

Their family didn’t have a TV. TVs had been invented, but they weren’t very common – mostly just rich people had them. They did have a big radio, though, and they listened to a few programs on it (the ones their Dad approved of).

Their stockings reached all the way up to their waists, like tights, and had suspenders to keep them up. They also wore girdles, which were like corsets, and made their waists slimmer. Ugh, that must have been so uncomfortable. One woman told Gram that she could always tell when someone wasn’t wearing her girdle! Dear, dear! XD I thought that was pretty funny. XD

Instead of getting spices at the grocery store, a McNess man named Mr. Rogers would come round to their door. “He was… this little old man. He always had his cap and he had a big ol’ hump on his back. He would open [his car] from the back and he had these boxes of spices and detergent and cleaners.” Mr. Rogers came around to their house about every month to see if they needed anything, and Gram’s mom was always ready with a list. I thought that part was really neat. It sounds like old times, doesn’t it?

What were Sundays like?

They always went to church on both Sunday mornings and Sunday evenings, and in between they had to do the farm chores and milk the cows. But they still found time for occasional picnics in the pasture. “That was something that was really special,” Gram remembers. They’d plan the picnic before church, so that when they got home they could fill up their picnic basket with food and head right down the hill.

For non-picnic Sunday lunches they always had chicken with broth, crackers, milk, and pie for dessert. Gram’s mom made all kinds of delicious pies – apple, cherry, pumpkin, lemon, and Gram’s favorite: blueberry or peach pie. In the evening that had a light supper or snack of grape juice and popcorn because they had to eat early before they went out to milk the cows again.

What chores did you do?

When Gram and her brother got up in the morning, they went out to the barn to clean out the manger and scrape out the manure. In the evenings they fed the calves and taught them to drink out of a bucket instead of a bottle. They had to milk the cows, too. They had a stanchion barn that could hold 40 milk cows lined up side by side – but sometimes they were packed so tightly that they squashed you between them when you were milking them.

On Saturdays they cleaned the house and baked. The girls made cookies or cakes, and Gram’s mom usually made the pies. But when it came time for Gram to learn the art of pie-making, somehow they just didn’t turn out quite the same. Her brother could always tell when Gram had made the pies.

“Well I know Mom didn’t make these pies,” he grumbled, “they must be yours!” Heh heh. That was one of my favorite parts of this interview. XD The way she said it was just so funny!

They helped in the garden, too – weeding, picking, and harvesting the vegetables. They canned peaches, applesauce, and grape juice, as well as all kinds of pickles: several varieties of cucumber pickles, and watermelon rind pickles and mixed pickles – a pickled mixture of all the leftover produce such as old corn or old beans. They really liked mixed pickles. I tasted mixed pickles once. They were okay, but I don’t know if I would say I like them or not… And you don’t hear of watermelon rind pickles every day, now do you?

“You didn’t buy that stuff at the grocery store,” Gram explains, “you either canned it or you didn’t have it.” Well that’s certainly changed.

What do you miss about your childhood?

When Gram was little, she loved to work out in the fields with her dad and drive tractors for him. She said she could hardly remember learning how to drive a tractor – she just knew for a long time. But after she got married she didn’t drive them as much. “The tractors got complicated and so then I kinda quit driving tractors.” She says she misses the old, easy to drive tractors.

What don’t you miss about your childhood?

Milking, cleaning the barn, and ironing. Ironing was quite a process: her mom would take a little pop bottle that had a cork with holes punched in it, and she’d lay the clothes out flat, and sprinkle them. Then she would roll them up and put them in a bag to soak. Gram said they would have to be careful not to leave the clothes soaking too long or they’d get moldy. Yikes! O.o

What traditions did you have?

Every summer Gram’s family would get together with their friends and make a whole bunch of potato chips and doughnuts. Another fun tradition was an Easter one of dying eggs and hiding them. After they had found them all, they ate the eggs.

What did you do for celebrations or for special?

Gram always looked forward to Fridays, because her Dad often gave them a little bit of money to buy a treat with. “He would be down at the milk house when we passed by on our way to the school bus, and he’d say, ‘Well do you need a dime today?’ And we’d always say, ‘Sure!’” For a nickel they could buy an Imp or a dreamiscle, and for a dime they could buy a drumstick or an ice cream bar. Usually Gram bought two different treats for a nickel each instead of spending her whole dime on one thing. Whoa, ice cream for a nickel?

What are your favorite memories from childhood?

Gram loved the picnics in the pasture, and she loved playing in the creek, despite the bloodsuckers. And she always looked forward to making potato chips and doughnuts with her friends every summer.

Mom:

What did you do for fun?

“I mostly liked to play outside in the barn with kittens, or watch the cows,” Mom says. She loved the outdoors and she loved to run barefoot through the fields. She also loved to play in their creek – where fortunately there were no leeches!

What are a few of your school memories?

Mom always packed the same lunch in her little tin Strawberry Shortcake lunchbox: a sandwich, chips, fruit, and cookies, with a Thermos of water. Always.

What was the technology like? What clothes, toys, etc. were popular?

Their radio was “this big piece of furniture, a big wooden chest” she says, much larger than our modest radios today. “We would lay on the floor and listen to the radio since we didn’t have a TV,” she remembers.

Mom had a doll called a Real Baby that was supposed to be the same weight and height as a newborn. “I was so proud of that.”

“And did it look like a newborn?” I asked her.

“No, it didn’t look like a newborn at all!” Ha ha! XD

What were Sundays like?

“We didn’t shop on Sundays, and we only did the necessary farm chores.” They always went to church every Sunday morning and usually every evening too. Sometimes they stayed at home for Sunday lunch (only they called it “dinner” instead of “lunch”), and sometimes they ate at a friend’s house.

Mom’s Sunday evening supper sounds remarkably like Gram’s: “sandwiches, popcorn, and a jar of home-canned grape juice.”

What chores did you do?

Mom and her sisters had to feed the calves and of course clean the house on Saturdays. “Then when we got a little older – ‘bout twelve or thirteen – we had to milk the cows.” They also helped out in the garden.

What do you miss about your childhood?

“I miss the small farm and the cows in the pasture. We would just sit and watch the cows and it was just so peaceful – more idyllic instead of commercialized like it is now.” Mom and her youngest sister would sit up on the haybale feeder and let the cows come up and eat around them. They got to know the cows’ personalities, and even named a few of them. I really liked Mom’s description of that.

What don’t you miss?

“I don’t miss getting stickers in my feet from running barefoot through the fields. I’d do that a lot,” she says with a laugh. “I’d dig out splinters from my feet all summer.”

What did you do for a celebration or for special?

“On Wednesday night Dad promised that if we were good at church we would go to High’s afterwards and get a hand dipped ice cream cone – and we could pick our flavor! That was fun.”

What were some of your traditions?

The main tradition was each of the kids choosing their own birthday supper, but they had some smaller traditions too. A daily tradition was to sing a prayer or hymn before their meals instead of praying. It felt strange to say a prayer before a meal instead of singing it. We still usually sing a prayer or pretty hymn when we go to Grandma and Grandpa’s house for a meal.

What are your favorite memories from childhood?

“Wading in the creek, finding kittens in the barn…” Sometimes, they would take a picnic back to the field and eat their lunch on a blanket. Other days, “Dad would say, ‘Let’s go to the lake today,’ so we would leave after breakfast and stay there until we had to be back for milking – about 3 or 4 o-clock.”

Snow days were sure to be fun as well: “If we stayed home from school on a snow day we would almost always make doughnuts.” Yummy! I’ve made doughnuts a few times, and it’s a lot of fun.

*****

Wow, isn’t it amazing what has changed? You certainly can’t get an ice cream cone for a nickel anymore, and you certainly can buy pickles and such at the store – and pretty much anything else. Radios are much smaller, TVs are an electronic staple in most homes, and the fads have changed from heel taps to iPhones and coolest brands of clothing.

But then again, a lot of things will never change: the pleasure of summer picnics, the freedom of running barefoot over the grass, the cuteness of little kittens, and the fun of wading in a (hopefully leech-free) creek.

I hope you enjoyed that essay, even though it was still pretty long. What was your favorite part? Thanks for reading! ♥

***Allison***

Beauty from Ashes, Part 5

December 10, 2016April 10, 2017 | Allison

(Read previous chapters here.)

Today. Today I’m going to the Prince’s ball. Me, Cinderella! The thought was so unbelievable that even after it had circled around and around in my head for hours, I still felt a sense of shock as I waved goodbye to Druscilla, Anastasia, and my stepmother. I would see them again soon – at the ball. I smiled as I imagined their stunned faces when I would stride through the palace door.

But now. The sky above me deepened and darkened; sparkling stars punched miniscule holes through the black velvet cloth of night. The stars were my companions. They too twinkled and sparkled, bubbling over with barely restrained joy. It was time.

When I reached the rosebush, the Prince’s grandmother was there waiting for me. She was old. Very, very old. Her long, pure white hair rippled down her hunched back like an avalanche of snow. Her hands held out to welcome me were grotesquely bent and twisted with age, and wrapped in translucent, paper-thin skin. Her face was dotted with dark age spots and moles, turning her otherwise pale skin almost brown. Her eyes were cloudy blue skies, but they snapped and twinkled like the stars above us. She was beautiful.

“Come, Ella, my dear,”she said eagerly, in a soft voice. As I drew near, she gazed at me, smiling the Prince’s brilliant smile. “Yes, yes, he was right about you.” She laughed, a surprisingly loud and hearty laugh for such a frail body. Perhaps she wasn’t as old as she looked.

Grandmother, as she told me to call her, looked me over appraisingly. “We share the same eyes, don’t we dear? Blue eyes, blue skies. We must choose your dress accordingly.” Suddenly she closed her eyes, dropped her head, and was still for a very long time. I was startled, then puzzled. Had she dropped off to sleep? I stared at the ground uncomfortably, but when I raised my head to speak, I let out a most un-princess like squeal instead. The old woman held out the most beautiful dress I had ever seen. It was the same shade as my eyes, with white lace trimmings and a line of pearl buttons all down the back. In her other hand she held out a long pearl necklace and matching pearl earrings.

“Oh,” I breathed, “is it really for me?”

“It really is,” the old woman replied happily. She seemed even older, even tireder than before, as if doing the magic had taken something out of her.

“M-may I try it on?” I whispered in awe. She nodded, her eyes sparkling with delight at my joy.The dress fit perfectly.

“Now for your hair,” she said. Her bony fingers proved gentle and skillful, working a magic of their own with my thick caramel curls. She braides and looped and twisted until finally she was satisfied.

“And you must not forget your shoes,” she warned with a smile.

I had forgotten about the perfect glass slippers the Prince had given me, but now I slid them on quickly. I felt like a real princess.

Grandmother led me to a hidden lake in the forest, a lake whose waters were as smooth and clear as the glass of my slippers. I saw my reflection looking back at me in the moonlight. My hands flew to my mouth. That was me? My hair was done up high on my head, curled in braided coils and intricate twists. A few strands of hair hung down like dripping caramel. My dress and slippers were too beautiful to be true.

“Oh!” I exclaimed. “I can’t… it’s so… I just…Oh THANK you ever so much, Grandmother!” I flung my arms around her neck with such force that I nearly knocked her into the pond, but she just laughed and hugged me back.

“One last thing,” she said, drawing back from my embrace. She paced the shore of the lake, the wrinkles of her brow deepening in concentration. After a while she threw up her hands and sighed. “I suppose this will have to do,” she murmured to herself. “It will take all I have, but it will be worth it.” She picked a small yellow pumpkin off its vine, and abruptly closed her eyes and bowed her head and was still for a very long time. But this time I watched. I watched the pumpkin transform before my eyes, watched it grow bigger and bigger until Grandmother set it on the ground, where it grew bigger still. A door appeared, then a window. Two horses appeared in front of the pumpkin, which was now the size of a carriage, and a plump stagecoach flicked the reigns. As the finishing touch, a door opened, and out came a footman to usher me in. As soon as the transformation was complete, Grandmother crumpled to the ground in exhaustion. I ran over to her to help her up, but she shooed me away.

“Go,” she whispered faintly. “It’s time to meet your prince.”

******************

There we go! I hope you liked it! Thanks for reading, my friends. ♥

***Allison***

The Dust Pixies, Part 7

November 11, 2016 | Allison

(Read the previous chapters here.) It’s been waaaay too long since I wrote a chapter for The Dust Pixies. Good gracious, it’s been more than a month! So are you ready to see what happens to Finn?

Here’s a little refresher since I posted the last part so long ago:

She had found Finn. He was bound to a tree, eyes closed in despair and exhaustion. He opened them when he heard his wife’s cry, but immediately shook his head and motioned us to stay away.

But he was too late.

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The leaves above him came alive. Dozens of grim-faced fairies dropped out of the tree and in a split second we were surrounded. I gulped. Lyri squeezed my hand tightly. One of the fairies stepped towards Anabelle. He looked like the night: black hair, dark skin, snapping chocolate brown eyes, and teeth that sparkled like stars when he spoke.

“Oh goody. Just who we were looking for. My my, you don’t seem to be any the worse for wear from living inside. Just as beautiful as ever, my dear girl. But come now, your father misses you. He hasn’t seen your charming face in far too long because of this – this miserable house-dweller.” His black-velvet eyes narrowed in disgust as he spat the last few words. “You must come with us, back to your rightful place as Princess of the fairies.” He bowed low.

Anabelle’s looked just as frightened as we were. “I can’t go with you, Reuven,” she whispered. “You know that I can’t leave him now. I don’t want to come back… and… and… It’s not true. Father doesn’t miss me. I know he doesn’t.” She hid her face in her hands. “He could never love a traitor.”

Rueven patted Anabelle’s shoulder awkwardly. “Nonsense, my dear. Of course he loves you! Your father will forgive you everything as long as you come with us. But if you don’t… well, if you don’t, your dusty friend here will have to be disposed of.” He sneered at Finn. “So what do you say, Anabelle? The choice is yours.”

Anabelle’s shoulders drooped. She glanced toward Finn who was emphatically shaking his head. He would pay the price, his eyes told her. He would make the sacrifice. But Anabelle smiled sadly and shook her head back. She straightened and spoke firmly. “Let my husband go and I will return with you.”

Reuven nodded his approval. “That’s the spirit. I knew you had a wise mind to go with that lovely face.” He winked at her and broke into a gleaming smile. The other fairies untied Finn in disappointment, muttering insults, and made their way over to Anabelle.

Reuven finally glanced down at us, surprised, as if he noticed our dusty selves before. “And who are these young friends?” He asked in an oily voice. “I see you have followed the path of the traitor like both of these noble heroes?” He laughed. “Ah, well. Scurry on home, kiddies. You wouldn’t want to cause any trouble, now would you?” His mouth smiled but his eyes were menacing.

At this we all quickly stepped back. We watched in shock as they took Anabelle away. But for some reason a few of the party stayed behind, milling around beside Finn. Finally, when Anabelle was out of sight they jumped upon him and tied him up again, laughing and jeering all the time.

My heart stopped. Wait! This wasn’t right! They were supposed to let Finn go! I almost rushed out into the ring, but I decided against it. What good could one lone dust pixie do? As we looked on with sinking hearts, the fairies prodded Finn into the forest, step by painful step. Lyri was in tears beside me.

“We have to do something, Mae,” she whispered fearfully.

“I know. I know.” I stood there quietly, thinking, until I was startled by the sound of footsteps. Were the fairies coming to get us too? But before I had time to run, a face appeared.

It was as black as the night.

For a second I thought Reuven had come back, but I noticed that this was a boy, not a man.

“Hey,” he whispered hoarsely. His eyes were wide and filled with fear. “I’m on your side, okay? They’re takin’ him – Finn, I mean – back to camp. You gotta save him! I don’t know what they’re gonna do to him, but I can tell you sure, it ain’t gonna be good. I don’t dare free him myself – do you have any idea what my Dad would do to me? It’s gotta be you! Please…” The boy’s face was earnest. “I can’t stand to see innocent people get hurt – even if he is a dust pixie. All you have to do is follow the trail of scuffed-up leaves. It’ll lead you right to camp. Come on, guys, whadya say?” His wide eyes gazed at us pleadingly.

“Uh… yeah. We-we were just going to work up a p-plan,” I stammered. “Don’t worry, we’ll do it. Th-thanks for warning us. Yeah, we’ll save him.”

The boy looked relieved. “Oh boy, that’s great. Well, you gotta be quick – they’re gonna do the judgement call tomorrow morning.” He turned to leave, but shouted over his shoulder, “Oh, and my name’s Eli. Bye.”

I heaved a giant sigh. This was bad. This was too big for four dust pixies to handle by themselves. We needed help. We needed Rosalind.

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Ooohh, the plot gets thicker yet! XD Thanks for reading, dear friends. 🙂

***Allison***