Unfinished Stories

Story Activities Collected by K. Ayala

Table of Contents

  1. My Chocolate Brother

  2. The Soap Bubble Boy

  3. The Frog Princess

  4. The Blue Bottle

  5. The Lucky Coin

  6. Imaginary Sister

  7. The Would-Be Bird Dog

  8. So You Want To Be A Superhero?

  9. Ona And The Butterfly Prison

  10. One Thing

  11. Two Trees Talking

  12. The Sea's Surprise

  13. Trouble For Sammy

My Chocolate Brother

 

It was right after lunchtime and Dad was so busy chasing down baby that he made a mistake. One that Mom would never make. He told both of us, "If you eat any more chocolate, you'll turn into chocolate." Not bright, Dad. Mom would have simply taken the chocolate away.

 

My little brother didn't realize what Dad meant was no more chocolate. But what can you expect from a five-year old? When you get to my age, you can tell better what parents mean when they say confusing things, but five-year old boys hear only what they want to hear. Or so Mom says.

 

So my little brother did just what Dad didn't want him to. He took another chocolate bar, a big one, from the snack bin, opened it and took a huge bite. I figured he'd get into trouble, but I never figured he'd turn into chocolate.

 

Which is what he did. I know it was chocolate, because I took a little bite from his ear. Just to make sure.

 

"Dad?!" I hollered. "Dad?"

 

Dad yelled back, from somewhere upstairs, "I'm changing baby, can you please deal with whatever it is yourself?"

 

He was always having me deal with stuff myself, since I was the oldest. Like cleaning up spills. Or making sure my little brother has both his shoes and socks on. Or making Ritz peanut butter and jelly cracker sandwiches for lunch and pouring glasses of milk. But I had never had to deal with a chocolate little brother before.

 

I looked at my brother. He was completely chocolate, even his clothes. And he wasn't moving. He had this huge smile on his face and a half-eaten chocolate bar in one of his hands. I wondered if he was really made out of chocolate.

 

I sort of knocked on him gently, to see if he was hollow inside like those cheap Easter Bunnies. He wasn't. He was solid chocolate. If he were an Easter bunny, he'd be the biggest one we had ever gotten.

 

I wondered how he tasted. That's when I had the little nibble I mentioned earlier. From his ear. Just a tiny bite. He tasted just like chocolate. Good chocolate. If I hadn't had tons of chocolate already, I would probably have eaten more. But I did snap off some of his  shirtsleeve and put it in the refrigerator, to save some for later, and to make sure it didn't melt.

 

Melt! My little brother is going to melt! I knew I had to do something fast, but what?

 

I ran to the bottom of the stairs and called up, "Dad?!"

He said back, sort of tired sounding and testy, "Can't you please take care of it yourself?" He was obviously having some trouble with baby. Maybe she ran off without a diaper or wouldn't let him put on her shirt. She does that.

 

Well, if I had to handle this by myself, I would. Here's what I did...

 

 

 

 

Link: www.stuartstories.com | Activities - My Chocolate Brother

 

The Soap Bubble Boy

 

Okay. I admit that I deserved it, but bigger brothers have been doing this for years and I don’t think it has ever happened to any of them. So why me? 

 

But, anyway, here’s what happened. My stinky little sister Katrina was out in the back yard blowing soap bubbles, the kind that make rainbows. She was trying to see how far they’d float. I was out there reading a book. Honest! Well, I had to because I had a book report due the next week. So it’s true.

 

But, anyway, it was one the those warm Spring days and it was hard to read with all the other kids running around in their back yards and me stuck reading a book.

 

 

It was a good book, I admit, but it was a still a book. It was about some kid who got caught stealing some basketball player’s sneakers and was sent to the desert to dig holes in the dirt, but anyway, I was more watching Katrina blow bubbles than I was reading the book and I decided that I’d have some fun.

 

I walked around, pretending to read while I was walking, and tried to look like I just happened to get in the way of her bubbles. That they bumped into me and popped. Not the other way around.

 

Of course she yelled at me every time a bubble hit me, but I couldn’t hear her because I was reading my book. Well, you know that’s not true, but she didn’t. Then the game sort of turned into me not even trying to pretend to read my book and simply popping her bubbles.

 

She got madder and madder. And the madder and madder she got, well, the more fun it became for me, I guess. She deserved it, though. She had no homework to do. Well, she did have homework, but she had finished it and second graders have so little homework to do it’s unfair.

 

“Don’t!” she yelled for maybe the tenth time and then, finally, said,

 

“Please stop,” which is what we use when we really want someone to stop doing something.

 

Mom and Dad say that if they hear either one of us say “Please stop” twice then the other one is in trouble. But Mom was still at work and Dad was in the front working on the garden, so no one would hear her even if she said it a hundred times.

 

"Okay,” I said and started reading my book again. But soon the next bubble came my way, which is where they were all going. No accident, since I could tell which way the wind was blowing. She was trying to see if she could get one to float all the way over the fence into the sick old lady’s lawn.

 

Mom said she had some brain disease and was in the hospital, but she was really sweet every time I saw her so I think maybe Mom is wrong about the brain disease, because don’t brain diseases just make you crazy and angry and yell at little kids thinking they are your children even though your children are now grown and have kids of their own?

 

But anyway, the bubble came my way and I sort of leaned my elbow out and it popped.

 

Boy was Stinky Kat mad! She actually started crying over a stupid soap bubble! Can you believe it? But she was always turning on the tears to try to get Mom and Dad on her side. So I said I was sorry. I did. And I said I wouldn’t do it again and that she should try to see if the next one would make it all the way over the fence.

 

The next one was a really nice bubble.

 

Not too big, not too small. Very round and not at all wobbly. You know how some of them are all wobbly and drippy and you know they’ll just pop all by themselves? Well, this one wasn’t like that at all. And as it left her, her- what do you call those things? Wands? That’s a stupid name, but I can’t think of a better one right now. If I had time, I could.

 

But anyway, when it started to come towards me, I knew this one would make it over the fence. And so did Katrina. It started off higher than the rest and was far enough away from the house, but not so far away that it’d get popped by the cherry tree branches. I was going to let it go. I was. But she gave me such a mean look that, well, I had to pop it, now.

 

But I waited. I followed it towards the fence, reaching my finger close to it, teasing her. And pretending to pop it and then pulling away at the last second.

 

Stinky Kat got up off the picnic table bench. She put her hands on her hips like she was my boss or something and said, “If you pop it, I’ll tell Dad.”

 

Like Dad would do anything bad to me for popping a stupid soap bubble. He’d say something like ‘stop bothering your sister aren’t you supposed to be reading your book don’t you know your book report is due Tuesday and maybe this is why you’re not getting straight As like your stinky sister.’ Though I guess he wouldn’t say ‘stinky.’

 

Just as it was going to go over the fence and just as I had decided, I think, to let it go so I wouldn’t have to hear her whine all day, she said, “If you pop it, I hope you’ll pop.”

 

That did it! For a smart girl, sometimes she says the dumbest things! “Yeah, right,” I said and poked my finger at the bubble.

 

I felt my finger touch the soapy bubble and even felt the bubble sort of ‘pop’, but instead of the bubble popping, I did. I think I did, anyway, and Stinky Kat said that I did afterwards, but it I felt more like I melted.

 

But really quickly. I mean, like really, really quickly. Like when one of those window stickers suddenly peels off a window all by itself. You know what I mean? Like the very last sliver of ice melting in hot chocolate. It’s there, then it looks like it’s still there, but it’s really completely gone? It was weird.

 

Up from my toes and down from my head at the same time.

 

Then, suddenly…

 

Link: www.stuartstories.com | Activities - The Soap Bubble Boy

The Frog Princess

 

Prologue: The Birth

The day Princess Meaghan was born, frogs rained from the sky. Only a few people in the castle noticed. Not one of them thought it was important.

Chapter One: The Frog Princess

The King threw up his hands in disgust.

 

"What's wrong?" asked his wife, the Queen.

 

The King sighed. "The Princess is what's wrong," said the King.

 

"Meaghan? Our little girl?" The Queen was incredulous. "What did she do?"

 

"Follow me," said the King.

 

The two of them walked out of the throne room and down the grand hall to their daughter's room. When they opened the door, they saw that the Princess was sitting on the floor, in a beautiful deep red velvet dress, playing with a frog. She poked the frog's back legs, trying to make it hop away. The frog didn't move. In fact, the frog looked as unhappy as a frog could possibly look.

 

"Not again!" declared the Queen.

 

The King sighed. "Unfortunately, she did it again."

 

You might think that the King and Queen were angry with their daughter for  playing with a frog in the floor in her best dress. It's not so much the dress or the frog that upset the King and the Queen, but who the frog used to be. Because just a few minutes ago, the Princess was playing with an eight-year-old Prince, named Eduardo, the son of a nearby King.

 

The King looked sternly down at his daughter and asked in that tone of voice that parents use when they already know the answer to their question, "Did you kiss him?"

 

"Yes, daddy," said the Princess, suddenly looking very sad.

 

"And what did I tell you about kissing boys?"

 

The Princess hung her head even lower and said nothing.

 

"Meaghan?" the King prodded.

 

The Princess said, as if repeating a lesson, "Don't kiss any boys."

 

"And why not?"

 

"Because they'll turn into frogs," said the Princess, who had started crying.

 

"It's okay, sweetie," said the Queen, as she reached down and picked up the little Princess. "It's not your fault that every time you kiss a boy he turns into a frog, but you do have to be more careful."

 

The Princess wiped the tears from her eyes. Then she asked, "Can I keep him?"

 

The King laughed for a second and then stopped himself. In a serious, fatherly voice, he said, "No, honey. We have to have the Court Magician turn him back into a Prince and then return him to his parents." He picked up the frog gently. The frog still looked miserable.

 

The Queen kissed he daughter on the head and put her down. The Queen sighed. "I guess it's time for me to write another apology note," the Queen said as she and the King went on their way to the Court Magician's tower.

 

Later that day, after the Prince was turned back into a boy and sent home to his parents, the King and the Queen met with the Grand Vizier.

 

The Grand Vizier was a very old man with a very long white beard who spoke very, very slowly. While the King wished he would speak faster and often found himself yawning while the Vizier spoke, there was no doubt that the Vizier was as smart as he was a slow speaker. And the King, usually impatient, listened to whatever the Vizier said, since the Vizier usually gave the King advice that was worth well the wait.

 

"Let's think this through completely," said the Vizier. "How many boys has she turned into frogs?" he asked.

 

"Three," said the Queen.

 

"And did these boys have anything in common?" the Vizier asked as he stroked his beard very slowly over its entire length.

The Queen answered, "They were all Princes."

 

"Very interesting," said the Vizier. "And does she turn other boys into frogs, or just Princes?"

 

The King and the Queen shrugged. "She doesn't turn me into a frog," replied the King.

 

"Or me," said the Queen. "But I guess we've never seen her kiss a boy that wasn't a Prince. We don't allow her to play with common boys."

The Vizier said, "Perhaps we should try the experiment."

 

A Page Boy, who was standing by the door, suddenly realized the danger he was in and tried to slowly sneak out of the room, but the King caught him by the collar.

 

"Wait here a moment, Page Boy," said the King.

 

The King went to get his daughter. He soon returned, the Princess at his side.

 

"Kiss that boy," said the King pointing to the Page Boy, who was looking very nervous and a little scared. "Stop worrying," the King said sternly to the Page Boy. "The magician can turn you back. And you will be rewarded for your troubles and courage." The Page Boy tried to look braver, but couldn't.

 

The Princess said, "But I thought I wasn't supposed to kiss any boys."

"Do as your father commands," said the Queen. So the Princess leaned over to the boy, puckered up, and got ready to kiss him.

 

The Page Boy closed his eyes. So did the Princess. She kissed him and...

 

...nothing happened. The Page Boy looked just like he did before the kiss, only with a small smudge on his cheek.

 

The Princess grinned and exclaimed happily, "Yay!"

 

The Page Boy said, "Phew!"

 

The Vizier, stroking his beard, slowly asked, "Is that where you kissed the other boys, to say, on the cheek?"

 

"Yes, Vizier," said the Princess.

 

"Then," deduced the Vizier, "whatever magic it is that turns boys into frogs, only works on Princes. All we need to do is avoid letting her fraternize with Princes."

 

The King and Princess were happy and started hugging and dancing around the floor. The Queen became suddenly very sad.

 

Said the Queen, "Then how will she marry a Prince? She simply has to marry a Prince!"

 

The King and Princess stopped dancing, because they, too, knew that Princesses must marry Princes and what's a marriage without kissing?

 

Everyone looked at the Grand Vizier who stroked his long beard, so slowly it seemed as though his hand wasn't even moving. Eventually he had stroked it its full length and said, "A Princess whose kiss turns Princes, and only Princes, into frogs. The solution to this problem might take some time."

 

They tried everything.

 

They consulted the Court Witch, who made the Princess drink potions made from bat wings, dragon scales, eyes of newt, frog breath, and whatever else she could find in her cabinets, at the Witches Supply store, and even under rocks. Nothing worked.

 

They visited the Court Magician who read so many spell books his eyes started to cross and cast so many spells his hands got tired. No luck.

 

And, of course, after each of the potions and spells, the Princess had to kiss a Prince, to see if it had worked. All the neighboring Princes were sick of being turned into frogs and back again and had all developed a slightly green tinge.

 

"I'm out of ideas," said the exasperated Grand Vizier. "I have no idea how she picked up this curse -- for a curse it must be! And I have no idea how we can rid her of this curse."

 

The Queen started crying. The King looked disappointedly at his daughter. And Meaghan felt sad that she had caused so much trouble and had made her parents so upset.

Chapter Two: _______________

That next morning, the Princess dressed in her oldest clothes, took a few gems from her jewelry box, a loaf of bread, a small wheel of cheese, and a bottle of grape juice from the kitchen. She put all of her supplies into a leather sack and ran away from the castle.

 

You and I know that running away will not make our parents happier and will, in fact, make them much, much sadder. But you and I are not princesses and when we kiss Princes, they do not turn into frogs. So we cannot judge Meaghan. We can, however, follow her adventure.

 

The Princess soon realized that the Court Dog, named "Dragon," was following her. At first she shooed him away, "Get lost, Dragon! Go home!" But as she talked further and further into the Dark Woods, and the day became gloomier and gloomier and actually looked like it might start to rain, she began to welcome his happy company.

 

Soon Dragon was walking by Meaghan's side and the two of them, following a thin, mostly overgrown path, looked warily from side to side as they inched their way further from the castle. Suddenly, Dragon stopped walking, raised his hackles, and started growling menacingly towards the bushes.

 

"What is it Dragon?" asked the Princess, now terribly afraid. "What's in those bushes?" No sooner did Meaghan ask than she found out, because from out of the bushes leapt...

 

 

Link: www.stuartstories.com | Activities - The Frog Princess

 

The Blue Bottle

 

One night, Millie was up late reading in bed.

 

 

She finished the book she was reading (The Story of Ferdinand) and looked over to her shelves to see what else she might read before she went to bed.

 

Right there on her shelf was something she had never seen before. It was a blue bottle. The blue bottle was about as tall as a small book, had a round bottom, and a thin neck. And while the bottle looked as if it were made out of glass, Millie could not see through it.

 

Millie got out of bed and went over to the bottle. She picked it up, carefully, afraid that it might break. She was surprised at just how heavy it was. Certainly heavier than any other bottle this size she had ever before lifted.

 

She looked down into the bottle, but it was too dark inside to see anything. So she shook it. She heard a rattling sound. There was something inside! She turned the bottle upside down and shook it again, to see if anything would fall out.

 

Something almost fell out and then it didn't. Whatever was inside was now stuck in the bottle's neck. Millie shook harder and harder. Finally, something small fell onto the floor. It was a ...

 

Link: www.stuartstories.com | Activities -  The Blue Bottle

The Lucky Coin

 

Chapter One: The Drive Home.

At first Billy thought he was being lucky. But after a while, he decided that the coin must be lucky. A lucky coin.

 

His grandfather gave him a silver dollar at the end of his visit and now that he and his Father were driving home -- a two hour trip -- Billy was sitting in the back seating flipping the coin and calling ‘heads’ and ‘tails.’ The coin always came up what he wanted.

 

“Heads,” said Billy as he flipped the large coin.

 

“Not so high,” warned his Dad gently for the second time. “I’m driving.”

 

Billy caught the coin, slapped it onto his wrist and opened his hand. Before the coin slipped onto the car seat, Billy saw that it was heads. It landed heads on the car seat, too.

 

Billy turned the coin over, looking at its tails side. Then he looked at the edge, scraping his mostly chewed fingernail around the ridges. It seemed like a perfectly normal coin to him, but he had never had a silver dollar before.

 

“Hey, Dad?”

 

“Yes, son?” answered his Father. His Father didn’t like talking when he drove, said it was distracting. Otherwise, he was a great Dad.

 

“I think Grandpa gave me a lucky coin.” Billy flipped the coin again, very lowly this time. “Tails,” he said. The coin came up tails.

 

“Umm hmmm,” responded his Father. And then, “What makes you think it’s so lucky?”

 

Billy leaned forward in his seat, pushing against the seat belt. “Every time I say ‘heads’ and then flip the coin it comes up heads. When I say ‘tails’ and flip the coin it comes up tails.

 

Billy’s Dad was an Engineer, but not the kind that drives trains and that was all that Billy understood about his Dad’s job. He was always teaching Billy about math and statistics.

 

Billy tried to listen, most of the time, but before the lesson was over Billy would realize he was thinking about something else. He would start to pay attention again, but by then he was lost. Billy thought his Dad was about to give him another one of those lectures, so he slumped back in the seat.

 

“When we get home,” said his Dad, “I’ll tell you about statistics again. But right now I’m driving and you know that I have a hard time talking and driving at the same time.”

 

His Father caught Billy’s eye in the rearview mirror. “Which is more important, Billy? Driving or talking?”

 

“Driving,” said Billy softly. Billy looked over the silver dollar again and said, “Tails.” He flipped the coin, reached out to grab it and missed. It dropped onto the floor of the car, a place Billy couldn’t reach without getting out of his seatbelt and he knew he wasn’t allowed to do that.

 

Billy looked at the coin on the floor. Tails, of course. He wondered how he could get the coin without getting in trouble.

 

“Dad?”

 

“Yes, Billy?” said his Dad, but it sounded more like “What now?”

“I have to pee. Can we stop, please?”

 

Chapter Two: It Takes Two.

 Billy showed the coin to his friend Ralph.

 

“Doesn’t look very special to me,” said Ralph.

 

“Watch,” said Billy. He called “Tails” and flipped the coin. The coin landed tails.

 

“Big deal,” said Ralph.

 

“Keep watching,” said Billy. He picked up the coin, called “Tails” and flipped it again. It landed tails again. Ralph shrugged.

 

“A two-tailed coin?” Ralph guessed, sounding board.

 

Billy showed Ralph the heads side and flipped it again, for the third time calling “Tails.”

 

After five tails in a row, Ralph snatched the coin from the ground and looked at it. He tossed it up and down in his hand. “It’s probably weighted to always land tails,” Ralph explained. Even so, he was clearly interested in the coin.

 

This time Ralph flipped it. “Tails,” he said. The coin landed tails.

“Sometimes it’s heads,” said Billy, picking up the coin. He called ‘Heads’ and the coin landed heads.

 

Ralph tried the same and he, too, got heads. “Cool,” said Ralph. “Can I borrow it?” Ralph picked up the coin. He didn’t give Billy a chance to answer. He left quickly.

 

Ralph returned a few minutes later. He handed the coin back to Billy and said, “Stupid coin.”

 

Billy quickly placed the coin in his pocket, then asked, “What happened?”

 

“I won some bets. I lost some bets.” He glared at Billy. “I lost my favorite card.” Billy knew it wasn’t his fault, but he felt bad anyway.

 

After Ralph left, Billy took out the coin again. “Heads,” he said, flipping the coin. Heads. “Tails,” he said. Tails. “Maybe it is me,” he thought.

 

Once at home, Billy found a quarter and flipped it. He called it in the air. “Tails!” It landed heads.

 

His mother lent him another silver dollar. (Billy was careful to make sure the two coins didn’t get mixed up.) “Heads,” he called and flipped the coin. It landed heads. “Tails,” he called and flipped the coin again. It landed heads. He tried three more flips and only got it right once.

“It’s not me,” he thought.

 

He returned the silver dollar to his Mom. Then he got out his lucky dollar and flipped it five times. Each time the coin landed what Billy had called.

 

“It must be me and this coin,” he decided.

Chapter Three: It’s The Thought That Counts.

Billy had always been a good boy. Did well in school. Well enough, anyway, so that his parents and teachers didn’t complain too much. And he didn’t get in trouble too much. Not that he didn’t want to get in trouble, just that he could never think of the bad things to do before his Father and Mother told him not to do them.

 

Ralph, on the other hand, had no trouble getting into, well, trouble. He was always being punished for one thing or the other, made to sit right in the front of the class where Mrs. Archibald could ‘keep an eye on him,’ kept inside his house on sunny days, and not being allowed to use his bicycle or skateboard for days, and sometimes weeks, at a time.

 

So when Billy wasn’t sure what to do with his lucky coin, he asked Ralph.

 

Ralph, of course, had an idea, but he also wanted to try an experiment.

 

“I want you to flip the coin and say ‘heads,’ but think ‘tails,’ Billy,” said Ralph.

 

Billy eyed Ralph curiously. “Why?”

 

“Just try it.”

 

So Billy said “Heads,” and flipped the coin. He watched the coin spin through the air and fall to the ground. It landed heads.

 

Ralph glared at Billy. “Did you think ‘heads’ Billy?”

 

Billy looked around nervously. “I forgot.”

 

To Billy’s surprise, Ralph said, “Good.” He picked up the coin, handed it to Billy, leaned in very close to Billy and said, “Let’s try it again. But this time, remember, you say 'Heads' but you really want Tails."

 

Billy nodded. He could do this. He hoped.

 

The second time didn’t work very well either. Billy flipped to coin and yelled “Heads” correctly, but he wasn’t really sure if he thought heads or tails. He looked at Ralph sheepishly.

 

Ralph picked the coin from the driveway. He brushed off some dirt. Then a look crossed his face that Billy had seen before. It was the look Ralph got when he had an idea. It was also the look Ralph got before he got into trouble. Billy knew there was a connection.

 

“OK,” said Ralph slowly and menacingly. “I’ll flip the coin. You say Heads. But if it lands heads I’m gonna sock you in the arm. Hard.” Ralph made a fist. Billy gulped. “Ready?” asked Ralph. Billy nodded. Ralph flipped the coin high into the air.

 

Billy yelled “Heads!” Then he closed his eyes. He thought about getting punched in the arm. He hoped the coin landed tails. ‘Please land tails’ he thought.

 

“Tails!” hollered Ralph joyously. “You did it!” Billy opened his eyes, expecting to see a happy Ralph, but instead he saw Ralph’s fist.

 

“OK. We’re going to try that again. We have to make sure it isn’t just luck.” Billy nodded, wishing Ralph would put his fist away, not sure if asking Ralph to help was such a good idea in the first place.

 

“This time,” said Ralph. “You say ‘Tails’ but hope for heads.” Billy nodded. Ralph warned, “And don’t forget what happens if you get a tails. Billy nodded faster.

 

They tried the experiment four more times. Each time the coin landed what Billy wanted and not what he said. By then, Ralph was so antsy he was dancing around Billy, coin held high in the air, singing, “We’ve got a lucky coin! We’ve got a lucky coin! We’re going to be rich! We’re going to be rich!”

 

‘We?’ wondered Billy. But he also wondered how the coin was going to make them rich.

 

Ralph handed the coin to Billy and hugged him. “You know,” he said. “I was never really going to punch you. I just wanted to make sure you really, really, really wanted it to come up what you didn’t call.”

 

Billy nodded and smiled. But he wasn’t so sure.

Chapter Four: What Happened Next.

It was in the middle of dinner, poking at his peas, when Billy realized why Ralph had made him say one thing and think another. Because no one would play with you if you always won. But if you could lose sometimes, only when you wanted, and win the rest of the time, then people would just think you were being extra lucky.

 

Billy shook his head in amazement. Ralph was one smart guy. But Billy also knew that Ralph was trouble.

 

The real question, thought Billy, was what to do with the lucky coin. Billy must have been thinking about his coin for a while, because his Mother chided, “Billy, if you don’t hurry up and eat your peas, you won’t have time to go out and play after dinner.”

 

So Billy quickly ate his peas, not really thinking about them, and then, after being excused from the dinner table, went outside.

 

As soon as he got out the door he knew exactly what he wanted do with his lucky coin. At that same moment he saw that Ralph was running towards him.

 

Quickly, Billy...

 

 

Link: www.stuartstories.com | Activities - The Lucky Coin

Imaginary Sister

 

I'm sure you've heard of children who have imaginary friends.

 

Perhaps you had or have one yourself. But have you ever heard of grown ups having one? Would you think they were a little crazy? And what if they kept telling you that this imaginary friend was your older sister?

 

Deddy (short for "Daedalus") kept hearing his parents talk about his   older sister, Chandra, but he never saw her around. They would set out food for her, which she would never eat. Which was too bad, because there frequently wasn't enough food to go around and Deddy had to go a little hungry so his "imaginary sister" could have some, even though she never ate any of it.

 

Whenever Deddy asked his parents where his sister was, they would shake their heads, look very sad, and say, "We don't know." Whenever he asked if he could see a picture of her, they would shake their heads, look even sadder, and say, "We don't even have a picture of her."

 

So, you can imagine that Deddy thought his parents were a little crazy, setting out food at dinner for a sister that, as far as Deddy could tell, didn't exist.

 

Then one day, he realized his parents weren't so crazy after all...

 

 

Link: www.stuartstories.com | Activities - Imaginary Sister

The Would-Be Bird Dog

 

It’s hard to blame the poor thing. After all, Rolluf was a dog and dogs can easily become confused by things people say.

 

Here’s the first confusing thing he heard: “Oh, Rolluf, there? He’s a sheep dog not a bird dog.”

 

This was said by Rolluf’s master, Ed. And it’s true that Rolluf was a sheep dog. About as true as it can get, since Rolluf’s job was to guard the town’s sheep on the hill.

 

Rolluf was a good sheep dog. It was his job to make sure the sheep stayed on top of the hill and didn’t wander down the hill and into the street where they might get hit by a car. Or into the town where they might cause some trouble. So far, not one sheep had gotten way.

 

But back to the “bird dog” comment.

 

When his master sad that Rolluf was not a bird dog, Rolluf got confused. While we know that a bird dog is another name for a hunting dog, Rolluf thought that a bird dog was a dog that could fly. As I said, it’s hard to blame poor Rolluf.

 

While Rolluf did have some dog friends, they, too, were sheep dogs, so he didn’t know that bird dogs were just regular dogs. He really thought that bird dogs had wings or some other way of flying.

 

So Rolluf ran around the sheep on the hill day after day wondering what it would be like to fly like a bird dog. When he circled the sheep he pretended they were clouds and that he was soaring around in the sky.

 

If you were Rolluf, you might play this game as well.

• •

A few days later, when Rolluf was getting his hair shampooed and cut, the groomer said the second confusing thing. He said: “You can have him in just a minute, Ed. I have to comb out his feathers first. Won’t take but a sec.”

 

Now you might know that some people call the long hairs on the back of a dog’s legs ‘feathers.’ Or you might not. But either way, when the groomer spoke about Rolluf’s feathers, he was talking about these long hairs. But Rolluf, of course, thought he was talking about real feathers.

 

Rolluf thought he was finally turning into a bird dog. Imagine how happy you would be if you believed, really believed, that you were growing wings and would soon be able to fly.

 

The next day, Rolluf decided he would try to fly. He ran across the top of the hill and when he got to the edge he jumped. It was a gently-sloped hill so he would not fall far if he didn’t succeed.

 

And of course he didn’t fly. But he did believe that he went further than just a normal jump. Rolluf really believed he flew – even if just for a little bit.

 

Day after day, Rolluf jumped and jumped, trying and trying to teach himself how to fly.

 

His dog friends thought he was crazy, jumping around all day, but Rolluf said, “Just you wait. One day I will become a bird dog and fly away.” The other dogs just laughed.

 

Ed, Rolluf’s master, did not think that Rolluf was crazy. He simply thought Rolluf was jumping at bees or wasps or something. So long as no sheep got away, Rolluf’s master didn’t much care what else Rolluf might do.

• •

The next afternoon – just a few minutes before dark – Ed (Rolluf’s master) slowly trudged up the hill and when he got to the top …

 

 

 Link: www.stuartstories.com | Activities - The Would-Be Bird Dog

 

So You Want To Be A Superhero?

 

My story is different from what you might have read in the comics, but it’s real.

 

I was walking home from school one day (I live in the city, but the walk is only a couple blocks) when I see an old lady surrounded by two big men and some sort of overly-large dog. Maybe a wolf. Now, I am not stupid enough to get involved.

 

I am just a kid, but I figured I had to do something. The old lady did not look afraid. She was darting her eyes around as if she were looking for a way to escape. But I didn’t see a way, since she was backed into a corner of a building under construction. Yet another CVS.

 

She and I made eye contact and she waved her head at me, as if to say ‘You will only make it harder for me.’ But this couldn’t be true. I had to do something.

 

“Look down. In the crack between the sidewalk and the grass.”

It was a voice in my head. Odd, you may think, but to be honest, I didn’t even think about it. I just looked down and saw a silver necklace with a large marble pendant.

 

“Don’t look at the marble.”

 

But I already had. It was black, but began swirling with yellows and pinks and seemed to grow larger and dizzier and I started to feel nauseous…

 

“Look away!”

 

I did. Happy to do so. I felt better instantly.

 

“Ball the necklace up in your hands and throw it to Glor-, hemm, the old woman. Make it a good throw. This is our one chance.”

 

I was scared. I was not a good thrower. It was too far away. I looked to see if Lee or Jordan were around. They were good at baseball and maybe they could help.

 

“You can do it.”

 

I could do it. I could make the perfect throw. And, just like in the movies or in comic books, I swung that necklace around three times and I sent that necklace careening through the air, across the street and right into her hands. She caught it in her fist. She winked.

 

“Nice throw. Now run and do not look back!”

 

I started to run, but, of course, looked back. Instead of an old lady, there was some sort of yellow and pink tornado of fabric. I only caught a glimpse before everything went dark and I realized I was falling.

 

 

I landed on the sidewalk, skinning my knees pretty badly, but more worried about why I was suddenly blind. Really, everything was black. And I hadn’t even hit my head.

 

By the time I got back to my feet, my eyesight had returned and the old lady, two men and the wolf were gone.

 

I realize now that the voice in my head gave me the confidence to make the perfect throw as well as blinded me briefly so I couldn’t see the lady turn into a super hero.

 

At the time, though, the voice seemed about as normal as when you are talking to yourself in your head. And the throw, well, the voice did give me the confidence to do it, but the throw was all mine.

 

To make a long story short (too late, I know, ha ha), I heard the voice in my head again the following Saturday morning. Very early. Just after the sun had come up and many hours before I normally even wake up on Saturdays.

 

“Go back to the spot where you found the necklace and you will find a note. It is your reward. You did well.”

 

“What is it?” I asked, ummm, myself. But the voice in my head was gone.

 

So I dressed quickly, didn’t waste any time brushing my teeth or washing my face, and ran to where I found the necklace. There was a small piece of paper balled up and stuck in the crack. It was light yellow, an odd color.

 

I opened it and inside was a hand-drawn circle (about as big as my hand) and the words: reach into the circle and take out your reward.

 

I stuck my hand into the circle (it was like reaching into Jello) and pulled out a larger piece of paper that looked like one of those certificates you get when you write the winning story in the school contest or are awarded for having perfect attendance at the end of the school year.

 

I cannot remember what the scroll said, since I do not have it any more, but it pretty much congratulated me for serving the greater good and said that the PSL (I still do not know what that stands for!) wanted me to join.

 

To join, it said I needed to do two things:

 

1. Decide what I wanted to be my super ability
2. Come up with a name, for starters anyway.

 

Again, it wasn’t in these words. The words it used were all fancy and teacher-like, but I could understand them well enough.

 

There were some details on the bottom and some math equations, which I found sort of odd, but one of the notes read: The smarter you are naturally, the less power you will receive.

 

I read a lot of comics, so this made me laugh. It made sense. In fact, Ash and I had a joke about superheroes. With great power comes great stupidity. It sort of evens things out a bit. So it was very funny that this was, in fact, a rule.

 

Finally, the letter said I had a week to decide if I wanted the power at all and what the power would be and that I could ask no one for advice. If I did, the deal was off. Not in those words, of course.

 

I stuffed the scroll into my front pocket and ran home to my room. When I got home the scroll was gone. I didn’t bother to look for it, since I knew it hadn’t fallen out of my pocket. It had disappeared. Nothing falls out of front pockets.

 

You can guess what I did next…

 

 

 Link: www.stuartstories.com | Activities - So You Want To Be A Superhero?

 

Ona And The Butterfly Prison

 

Chapter One: Moon Flowers and Missing Monarchs

Ona looked out her bedroom window and saw that it was a perfectly clear day, which was perfectly fine with her. After her last adventure with Michael B. and the lightning storm, Ona would be happy if she never saw another cloud again.

 

Ona’s mother was outside in the yard taking care of the flowers. Of all the boring things her mother did, Ona thought gardening was the least boring. Ona ran downstairs, grabbed a spill-proof cup, and went outside to help her mother.

 

Her mother tousled Ona’s uncombed hair and asked, “Isn’t it just a glorious day?”

 

Ona had no idea what ‘glorious’ meant, so she asked her Mom a question. “What kind of flower is that?” Ona was pointing to a large white flower that looked like a sundae glass.

 

Her Mom explained, “That’s a moon flower. It attracts bats and butterflies.”

 

Ona shivered. She had seen movies about bats and wanted no part of them, but she did like butterflies.

 

Her mother saw the look on Ona’s face and tousled Ona’s hair again. She reassured Ona, “Don’t worry, the bats only come out at night. And they are small, nice bats.”

 

Ona looked around and saw no butterflies. “Do the moonflowers ‘tract nice butterflies?”

 

Her mother yanked a dandelion from the garden and gave it to Ona.

 

 

“All butterflies are nice, but moon flowers generally attract monarch butterflies. Monarch means king, so these are the kings of the butterfly world.”

 

“What do they look like?” asked Ona. She put her spill-proof cup on the ground since she needed two hands to pop off the top of the dandelion.

 

“Momma had a baby and her head popped off,” she sang softly.

 

Her Mom continued, “Monarch butterflies are big and orange. They have black eye-shaped spots on their wings.” Then Ona’s mother frowned, “But there are almost none around this summer. I wonder where they all went.”

 

Ona wondered if they all went back to their castles. She hoped no one had captured them, since she knew that kings were constantly getting captured and needing to be rescued by their princes and princesses.

 

Her mother asked Ona, “Did you brush your teeth this morning?”

Ona nodded ‘yes’ without trying to remember if she had or not. And anyway, how could her mother worry about dirty teeth when all the monarch butterflies needed rescuing?

 

Ona asked, “Are there prince and princess butterflies?”

 

Ona’s mother said, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of any butterflies called prince or princess. Now run back upstairs and brush your teeth, just in case you forgot.”

 

Ona picked up her spill-proof cup and started walking back to the house. ‘Then I guess I’ll have to rescue the king butterflies myself,’ Ona thought.

 

 

Chapter Two: The King Leads and Ona Follows

Toothbrushing led to bedmaking which led to clothesputtingaway and by that time Ona was tired and frustrated and wondering why she had to do all the housework herself.

 

If course it could have been done in just ten minutes, but Ona made it take nearly an hour and, to Ona, that felt like the whole day.

 

Then, when her mother told her to put her spill-proof cup in the sink before she went outside, Ona had taken all she could stand. She stomped her feet on the floor and started to cry.

 

Her Mom sent her back to her room (the site of all the bedmaking and clothesputting away) which wasn’t a good place to make the crying stop.

 

Ona threw herself onto her bed and was just about to declare the entire day a waste of time when a large orange butterfly landed on the outside of her window screen.

 

Ona gasped softly. “A king butterfly,” she declared aloud. She carefully sat up, slid gently off the edge of her bed, and … step … step … step slowly edged over to the window.

 

Resting, the butterfly looked more like half a leaf than an insect. Its feet were so thin, they seemed to be halfway through the screen.

 

“Shhhh,” Ona said to the butterfly. “Or whoever is capturing all the other king butterflies will capture you, too.” Ona imagined a huge giant with a tiny butterfly net chasing the terrified king butterflies until they could fly no longer and then scooping them up and taking them away to a prison full of other king butterflies.

 

“Bad giant!” Ona yelled at the imaginary giant and must have also brushed against the screen since the monarch butterfly suddenly took off. “Don’t go!” yelled Ona. “You’ll get caught!”

 

Ona looked out the window and saw the butterfly round the corner of the house, towards the back, and out of view.

 

“I have to save him!” Ona declared. This, of course, required Ona to put on her prettiest pink leotard, her ballet slippers, a fancy yellow and purple hat, and hang two strands of plastic beads around her neck. Ona was ready!

 

She ran out of her room, forgetting of course that she was supposed to stay there. She ran down the stairs, past her Mother’s voice calling “Ona?!” and out the back door.

 

There was the butterfly, gently soaring off the side of the hill. Without thinking about the last adventure with Michael B. and the lightning storm, without even thinking about grabbing a granola bar or a spill-proof cup, and without even making sure she had chosen the very friendliest one, Ona jumped on a cloud and followed the monarch butterfly away from the hill.

 

Chapter Three: What Ona Saw Above The Clouds.

It was a good thing Ona learned how to make the clouds go up, since that’s where the butterfly led.

 

Ona drove her small fluffy cloud up through the other small fluffy clouds and soon found herself soaring upwards towards the thinner layer of clouds way, way, way above.

 

The butterfly continued upwards until it zipped through this thin layer and out of sight.

 

Ona also zoomed through the upper layer and, sitting on the top of the thin clouds, she saw a tall, square castle. (It was actually more of a keep than a castle, but Ona didn’t know there were such things as keeps, so she did the best she could by calling it a castle.)

 

“This castle must be where all the butterflies have been taken prisoner,” thought Ona. She landed her cloud on the edge of the thinner clouds just as you might pull a boat onto a sandy shore.

 

“Stay here,” she commanded to the cloud. Now remember back when I said she didn’t take the time to choose the friendliest cloud? This is where that makes a difference. No sooner had Ona stormed up to the keep and in through the slightly ajar front door, than the cloud floated away.

 

But Ona won’t find that out for quite some time, so let’s go back and see what she found when she stormed into the keep.

 

With one small exception, Ona saw exactly what she expected to see when she entered. She saw a huge room like in all the picture books, complete with a fireplace and a Persian carpet and fancy furniture.

 

However, she also saw…

 

 

 

Link: www.stuartstories.com | Activities -  Ona and the Butterfly Prison

One Thing

 

Bretta, age seven, was sitting on her couch wondering why adults thought they knew everything. 

 

They’ve been here longer, for sure. On this Earth. But they don’t seem to notice or think much. 

 

They’ve had more practice, also for sure. But they seem to do the same things the same ways over and over again. 

 

She shook her head and stood up. 

 

“I will do one thing new,” she said aloud to no one. “One new thing.” 

The cat, blue eyes with a dark grey patch over one eye but otherwise mostly light grey and white, lying on a sunny patch in front of the large and leaky window, didn’t even flinch. 

 

Bretta only needed to know what that one new thing would be. She sat down again. 

 

“One thing no one has ever done before.” Then she added. “One thing that’s very, very good.” 

 

She rubbed her left eye as she pondered what might be truly new, her finger completely covering the small blue tattoo under her left eye for the briefest of moments. 

 

“Ah… got it!” she declared, thumping the couch with her right hand.

 This made the cat glance up, but not in a startled way. It slowly turned its head while raising it upwards, moving from the sun’s rays into a darker space. It’s eye patch was now less noticeable, and the animal’s blue eyes seemed to fade to gray as well. 

 

Then Bretta stood up again and began to work on her new idea, pacing the small room as she did so. 

 

The idea that no adult would – or could – ever think to do since, well, adults just always seemed to do the same thing over and over again and, as Bretta correctly understood, didn’t really think very hard or deeply about their actions. 

 

So… what did Bretta do?  

 

 

 

 Link: www.stuartstories.com | Activities - One Thing

Two Trees Talking

 

At the edge of a forest, where a cliff overlooks an ocean, a couple tall trees were talking in the dark late one night.

 

One said, "May I ask you something?"

 

"Certainly," said the other.

 

"I know you all have been all over the world. I, on the other hand... well, I have never been out of this forest. So my question is, What was it like for you in other places?"

 

The other tree brought in its branches a bit to gather its thoughts.

"Well, I'll tell you," it said.

 

But it couldn't. Because at that moment, a sudden gust of wind blew. And then another, and another, and suddenly you couldn't see the stars anymore for the clouds racing up....

 

Link: www.stuartstories.com | Activities - Two Trees Talking by Mark Freeman

 

The Sea's Surprise

 

Jim and Andy walked along the beach, looking for an adventure. They joked that someday they would find a talking fish or a mermaid or a bottle with a treasure map inside. So far they had only found shells and rocks and seaweed. Today though was different.

 

 

The boys felt excited.

 

Sea crabs scampered on the rocks. Up one side and down the other. They were quick and lively. The tide didn’t seem to ever wash them away. Then Jim saw a fish. It was stranded on the beach, just flopping around.

“Can it talk?” Andy asked.

 

 

“It looks like any other fish,” Jim said. He picked it up gently and carried it to the water.

 

“Do you think it will grant us any wishes?” Andy laughed.

 

The boys watched as the silver fish sped off through the water. “Nope. Maybe next time.” Jim grinned.

 

As the two friends walked farther down the beach they came upon a bottle. It was green with a cork in the mouth.

 

“Our luck will change. Does it have a map inside or a genie?” joked Andy.

 

Andy reached down and picked up the bottle. He rubbed it. Nothing happened. He pulled on the cork. Nothing happened. He shook it. Nothing happened.

 

“Try the cork again. I bet the genie is waiting for us to release him. Or we’ll find a treasure map and have a real adventure,” Jim exclaimed.

 

Andy tugged again on the cork. He wiggled it back and forth. He twisted it around and around. Finally it popped out without breaking. Andy shook the bottle. Nothing came out.

 

Looking inside he couldn’t see anything. Jim looked too and shook his head. Empty.

 

“It’s just an old wine bottle,” Jim grumbled. He grabbed the bottle and tossed it back onto the sand.

 

The bottle hit a rock and shattered into many pieces. Both Andy and Jim gasped as they saw a long, silver key on the ground in the glass shards. They looked at each other. Why didn’t it make noise when they shook the bottle? Why didn’t they see it? Andy bent over to pick up the key.

 

Suddenly the glass pieces came together to form a bottle again. The key was mysteriously back inside! The bottle began rolling slowly toward the ocean …

 

 

   Link: www.stuartstories.com | Activities - The Sea's Surprise by Cindy Stevens

Trouble For Sammy

 

Sammy was so tired. It had been a long night already. First he had been confused. Then he had gotten lost. Sammy was trying to find the beautiful moonlight reflecting off the water. It was supposed to be like a guiding light. Somehow he’d missed it. If it hadn’t been for that nice man,

 

Sammy would still be lost and in trouble. With a kind and gentle voice the older man had said, “Little fella, you seem to be going in the wrong direction. Let me give you a hand.”

 

Oh, there was the water. He could see the moonlight shining brightly on its surface. Without looking back, Sammy made his way to the ocean. It would be the last time Sammy ever came onto land again. All he had to do was get into the water and swim.

 

Suddenly, as Sammy was almost into the ocean, a ghost crab came scooting across the sand. Crabs ate sea turtles like Sammy. Sammy’s short life was in danger. He tried to move quicker. The ghost crab moved directly toward Sammy and …

 

    Link: www.stuartstories.com | Activities - Trouble For Sammy by Cindy Stevens

Impressum

Texte: Collected by K. Ayala
Bildmaterialien: BookRix
Cover: BookRix
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 16.08.2021

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