Fall into the Land of Dreams: Volume 2

LAND OF DREAMS LAND OF DREAMS

VOLUME 2

Illustration

by Yuna Choi

Wonderful writing from 826michigan’s after-school programs

Hello Writers!

Thank you for this wonderful body of work! You created stories that have made us laugh, ponder the world, and jump with excitement. We hope you are proud of your work as you continue to create so many stories in the future.

Sincerely, your fans at 826michigan

826michigan Staff

Megan Shuchman, Executive Director

Kinyel Friday, Operations Director

Denise Ervin, Program Manager

Megan Gilson, Program Manager

Kayla Chenault, Volunteer & Program Coordinator

Eli Sparkman, Volunteer & Program Coordinator

Shai Rao, Partnership Specialist

Amy Sumerton, Communications Liaison

Paige Bennett, Teaching Artist

826michigan Board of Directors

Maria Montoya, President & Secretary

Holly Hunt, Treasurer

Christopher Ankney

Abby Fanelli

James A. Hiller

Danté Richmond

Phil Weiss

826michigan gratefully recognizes the incredible generosity of its Board, individual funders, and foundation and corporate partners that make its work possible in providing free quality writing programs to the students of southeastern Michigan. In particular, we wish to acknowledge the supporters of our Washtenaw County based work: the Ann Arbor Area Community Foundation, the Hawkins Project, the Kiwanis Club of Ann Arbor Foundation, The United Way of Washtenaw County, The Rotary Club of Ann Arbor, Michigan Humanities, EOTECH, the May Family Foundation, Domino’s, Warby Parker, Zingerman’s Mail Order, and Flagstar Foundation.

Copyright © 2023 by 826michigan and Blotch Books.

All rights reserved by 826michigan, the many whims of Drs. T & G Blotch, the illustrators, and the authors.

The views expressed in this book are the authors’ and do not necessarily reflect those of 826michigan. We believe in the power of youth voice and are thrilled that you picked up this book. No part of this book may be reproduced without express written permission from the publisher, except for small excerpts for the purposes of review or scholarly study.

Design by Darren Cools

Copyedited by Aaron Stone

By purchasing this book, you are helping 826michigan continue to offer free student programs. For more information, please visit: 826michigan.org

Also Published by 826michigan

Young Authors Book Project:

Atomic: Earth’s Final Fight with & against the Strange Glimpses of Magic

The Book of Many Wisdoms

Because No One Else Could Do It

In Our Defense

In the Clouds Over Ypsilanti

A Moment to Remember

Rare Air / Aire raro

A Lantern of Fireflies

Tell Me How It Was

Where Is It Coming From?

Enjoy! Recipes for Building Community

All I Could Do Was Look Up: Anatomy of a Middle School

What to Call the Place I Call Home: Voices of 26 Ypsilanti Middle School Students

The Moons Were Jealous

2020: Visions of the [Near] Future

Don’t Stay Up So Late

How to Rise Or, I Put My Heart into the Close

Tall Tales & True Stories

Suddenly My Heart Stopped for Just a Small Portion of Time: Defining Moments

OMNIBUS:

826michigan OMNIBUS I

826michigan OMNIBUS II

826michigan OMNIBUS III

826michigan OMNIBUS IV

826michigan OMNIBUS V

826michigan OMNIBUS VI

826michigan OMNIBUS VII

826michigan OMNIBUS VIII

826michigan OMNIBUS IX

826michigan OMNIBUS X

826michigan OMNIBUS 11

826michigan OMNIBUS 12

Selected Chapbooks:

And I Did My Best

The Big Mess-Up and Other Stories

Bon Temps Roulez!

Carrying Ourselves Across: The Art of Self-Translation

The Clouds Spell Detroit

Colors Came Out

Cuando los robots atacan

The Distance Between Two Sides of a Color

Even the Stars are Robotic

Everything You Fight For And Gain

The Fog Was Geemy

Hello Sandwich

I Am Thankful for the Moon So I Can See in the Dark

I Hope You Consider What I’ve Said: Kids’ Letters to President Trump

I Rode My Yak to School

Hello Sandwich

I Use This Pencil To Write

It Tasted Like the Sun

Let’s Make a Bridge

Maybe I Was Born to be One of the Big Creatures

My Heart Felt Sad for the Bird

Talking Back, Giving Thanks, and Why You Should Never Drink the Haterade

The Ultimate Tacocat

When the Whales Celebrate

Where Everything is Written

Zomb, the Formalist

Student Introduction

Hi! My name is Rowan, and I am fifteen years old. I have been working with 826michigan for about two years. In that time I have learned so many things and have been able to explore so many different topics. When I was approached to write this, I felt lost; I was unsure where to go with it or even how long to make it.

From the volunteers who consistently supported me and encouraged me to write down my ideas even if I wasn’t quite sure where I was going with them yet and the leaders of the program for your endless patience and support to each and every writer in this book, I hope all of you are happy and proud of yourselves to see your writing in this book, because you deserve to be!

Finally, to everyone reading this book (even if you skipped this), I hope you all walk away from reading any part of this, even if it’s just a singular story, with a new way of seeing the spaces around you and the magic that is in everything, even the mundane. I wish you each the best, and thank you for supporting 826!

While I’ve been writing this, I’ve realized it honestly feels as if I’m writing a thank-you letter to this program.

Dear Reader, Fall into the Land of Dreams is the culmination of the hard work of this fantastic community of writers. Over the course of twelve weeks, they brainstormed, characterized, wrote, peer reviewed, revised, and created the dreamscape that leaps off of the page in vivid detail. I had the absolute joy of witnessing these stories start as idea seedlings and blossom with hard work and dedication. These writers used their creativity to write in every genre from slice of life to dystopian science fiction to choose your own adventure.

This volume of Fall into the Land of Dreams includes writing by writers ages 9–13 that show the reader the mysterious, the fantastical, and even the scary in visceral and vivid language; some stories involve scenes that are just right for more mature readers.

Thank you, dear reader, for supporting these writers. Please enjoy the journey through these pages as you fall into the land of dreams.

Onward Robots,

Kayla Chenault Volunteer & Program Coordinator

Unknown

CHAPTER ONE

“Wow!” shouted Power. Sphere is a ball of energy made of electricity, water, and fire. And Power is a robot that is like other robots but not evil. They ended up in space when they were on a planet, but it got exploded by a bomb. Power and Sphere discovered an abandoned spaceship. It was rusty, small, and destroyed, but it still worked. They were traveling in space where there are planets, meteors, stars, blackholes, and galaxies. Sphere noticed a few other spaceships behind them.

“Oh no,” said Sphere.

He pressed the speed button, but it made the spaceship go slower! Zap! The lightning zapped Sphere’s spaceship. The spaceship crashed; it broke into a million pieces.

“RUN!” exclaimed Power.

They both ran and ran and ran and ran, but they were not fast enough. They both got captured by the robots who were light red, fast, and strong but not aggressive. They were made of metal with screw items, and they locked Sphere and Power inside a dark dungeon.

“Why did you put us here?” asked Power.

“We are going to put you in the army and win the trophy.”

“I have an idea,” said Power.

Power hit a red robot with the sword that he had in his pocket. The robot blocked the attack with his shield and attacked back. But Power blocked it. A loud fight could be heard in the room. When the robot attacked, Power blocked it. It took a long time while Sphere was fighting two robots. But then, the robots created a shrink ray to shrink Sphere. Power finally hit the robot in the head.

“Let’s go,” said Sphere. “But how am I supposed to fight when I have shrunk?”

“Hey,” said the red robots. “They escaped! Get them!”

Stomp, stomp, went the feet of the robots. But Power and Sphere were ready. They fought the monster for four days. Finally they exploded the robot’s spaceship.

KA-BOOOOM! The blast blasted the robots away.

“Gold, silver, diamonds!” shouted Sphere and Power.

Three days later, they bought a Lamborghini light spaceship. While they were exploring around space, they noticed a quadrillion other spaceships.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!’’ screamed Sphere.

“What is happening?” asked Power.

CHAPTER TWO

The spaceship got lassoed by a rope and pulled inside a giant glass cage.

“What the heck are you doing?” asked Power.

“We are going to fuse you into a giant monster,” said the monster leader. But Power smashed the glass in one punch.

“Let’s fight,” said Power.

Power and Sphere fought the monsters, and they won after a long time. They almost lost because Sphere had shrunk and Power had gotten weakened by the monster’s ray that makes opponents weaker.

They went into their spaceship and went to an unknown place. But when they found diamonds on the floor, they got trapped. They found it was a trap made by a monster who was dark red, aggressive, strong, but slow. There were many different types of monsters around them. They escaped by evacuating the spaceship, and it got destroyed by the monsters. So, Power and Sphere had to steal the monster’s spaceship. They did this by sneaking into the spaceship. They stole it and flew off. But they found a billion bombs inside the spaceship that were ready to explode.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” said Power.

The bombs exploded and blew up the whole spaceship. But the spaceship was bomb-proof. Then a net captured them. But it had a tiny hole. The net came from another spaceship created by the same red monsters. Weirdly, it ripped. Then Sphere exploded the red monster’s spaceship by bombing it back, and it hurt the red monsters but not the spaceship because it was bomb-proof also. So Sphere and

Power went in and kicked out the injured monsters. Then the spaceship ran out of gas and blew up. Power and Sphere flew into a planet called Nothing. The planet had a whole city of monsters, and they chased Power and Sphere onto an island. The monsters’ pet pig exploded and the island disappeared. Then Power and Sphere swam deep down into the ocean. They had to pass a red scythe with two hooks to escape the world. But there were five thousand scythes in different places that were spinning around in a tunnel. They swam but had to be patient and wait until there was an opening. It took days but eventually they passed. But there were air bubble machines that shot ninja stars that had four points. They stuck and hurt a lot.

CHAPTER THREE

Sphere and Power finally passed the ninja stars when they found themselves inside an aquarium made by the robots. They had to fight the robots underwater. They had trouble fighting them, because Power had trouble swimming. They lost and got captured. They were sent into a mysterious jail. They had to be in a stinky jail cell. The monsters put them in school.

“Weird,” said Sphere.

They saw lots of birds and had to go through a machine that checked whether someone was trying to sneak in.

“How did the video club go?” asked Figure. Figure was a monster with a head full of teeth and long arms and legs.

“The boss told us to leave because we were ‘messing around,’” replied Power.

The End

The Fridge with the Mystery Goo

Once upon a time, I ate a mystery goo from the fridge because it was the only thing left. It was orange, tasted like blue raspberry, and gave me superpowers. I was given the ability to eat anything. I was hungry, so I ate a billboard with a hot dog on it. After a little bit, I started to turn into the billboard with the hot dog on it. I went to the beach and saw another billboard that said “Come to Magical IKEA!” I ate it, and then I turned into the Magical IKEA billboard and the hot dog billboard became my minion.

JJ the Third

Jett Junior was walking around spending money on fancy cars. Jett Junior’s greatgrandfather, Jett, wasn’t very happy with him and wanted him to start being responsible. One day, Jett Junior was walking in front of a grocery store late at night when he suddenly saw a lady being robbed and saved her.

Then the robber came out of the shadows and said to Jett Junior, “I will get you next.”

Then Jett Junior got scared because the robber threatened him, so he spent money on high-tech supersonic body armor for protection. The body armor was blue and gray. It shot anything Jett Junior wanted from the chest, like tacos or diamonds. The body armor cost $9,999.99. The next day, Jett Junior fought the robber, but his body armor broke and he lost. Jett told Jett Junior that he was mad because Jett Junior had spent so much money on something that broke.

Jett said, “All of this could have been avoided if you’d asked me.”

Jett forgave him and gave away all of his power to Jett Junior. His powers were teleportation, bravery, strength, forgiveness, money management skills, and laser eyes. Jett Junior was more responsible because he would ask for help now if he needed it.

Clyde the Chicken

There was a chicken named Clyde. Clyde was a big chicken from Mars who wanted to come to Earth. Should Clyde go to Earth? If you think so, then go to section 1. If not, then go to section 2.

Section 1

Clyde should go to Earth.

So he took apart his coop to build a rocket. Then he realized he could crucklify1 to Earth or Jupiter. Where should he go? If you think Clyde should go to Earth, then go to section 1.1. If not, then go to section 1.2.

Section 2

Clyde should not go to Earth.

Clyde stays on Mars and dies alone.

The End

Section 1.1

Then Clyde crucklified to Earth. When he got there, he wanted to see New York City but crash-landed in Ypsilanti. Should he go to the airport to get to New York City or not? If he should go to the airport, then go to section 1.1.1.

If not, then go to section 1.1.2.

Section 1.2

Then Clyde crucklified to Jupiter and got trapped in the Great Red Spot, the giant storm on Jupiter, and died.

The End

Section 1.1.1

Clyde walked to the Detroit Metro Airport, close to Ypsilanti, where he had crashlanded. He boarded a plane to New York City. At the airport, he found a woman who was crazy for golf. The lady missed her flight to Vista Resort. They liked each other, so they saw New York City together. Then the lady got hungry, so she went to KFC. When Clyde entered, the chef chased him with an ax, because you know KFC’s policy, “Every chicken we see, we cook.” Clyde nearly got killed by the chef, but then he fell into a blue portal.

To be continued . . .

Section 1.1.2

Clyde wanted to go back to Ypsilanti.

To be continued . . .

Endnotes

1Crucklify means to change planets in Martian Chicken Language.

Gaby Isn’t an Innocent Farm Animal

Once upon a time, there was a cute little farm. On the cute little farm there was a goat named Gaby. Gaby was a beautiful goat with blue eyes and a latte-colored coat. She was also a bully. She would headbutt the other goats. Gaby was so beautiful that she was spoiled. Because of this, she got all the treats. The other group of goats would get annoyed that Gaby got whatever she wanted.

But what Gaby did not know was that the other group of goats had friends who were also annoyed with Gaby. It also turned out that Gaby was stealing the chickens’ feed.

The goats and chickens had a plan. The others realized that one of Gaby’s weaknesses was to eat poison ivy. Since it was summer, the poison ivy was growing faster. So the goats decided to make a delicious tempting trail of poison ivy far into the woods. Since she would be far into the woods, she would not hear the humans giving the others food.

That evening at dinnertime, Gaby had already eaten her way into the woods.

“Cockle doodle doo,” said the rooster.

“Cluck cluck cluck cluck,” said the chickens.

“Meeeeeeee,” said the goats.

The rooster, chickens, and goats all ate their dinner in peace without Gaby. When Gaby made it back, it was pretty late, and there was barely any food left for her to snack on.

Gaby has now stopped being a bully and learned her lesson about sharing.

The Power of Writing

There is a writing club in a small village, which is great but hard. One day, someone came into the clubhouse. The clubhouse was a regular building with white walls and colorful paintings of flowers in a garden.

A man came into the clubhouse and said, “I want to buy this building to make a hotel to make money because I need to be more rich.”

He was actually a millionaire who was greedy.

The club’s president, the volunteers, and the students said, “We won’t let you buy the building and make the clubhouse a hotel.”

The greedy millionaire said, “Then prove why the club needs to be together if you want to be together, if you want to be like that.”

So the president proved it by making the club members write a story that was so good the millionaire would cry. The story was about how a rich family with no love is poorer than a poor family full of love. The greedy millionaire started crying when reading this story because he related it to his family situation.

So the millionaire said, “That was good teamwork.”

So the millionaire started to walk away, and then the club members said, “Wait! Do you want to join the club?”

The millionaire felt lonely and realized the club members were good people. So he said, “I’d love to join your club.”

As a result, the club was saved, and the millionaire tried hard to be better and not be greedy, like the club members. The power of writing is amazing!

Next story’s preview: A problem comes to the writing club. The king is trying to make the building that the club is using as their club house his vacation house. So the millionaire tries to stop it, but the king has more power than the millionaire. So the writing club needs a plan. Can the writing club protect their club? Find out in the next chapter.

Two Wolves’ Problems

CHAPTER ONE

Corenden lunged, grappling the rabbit, and with one shake of his head tore it apart. Take that, Rothrike! He thought, I just stole a rabbit from your turf.

Corenden pranced into the woods, pine tree branches brushing against his snout. Corenden got up on two legs, dusting himself off: he never liked his hybrid form. It was better to rely on his full wolf form. Suddenly a wolf shot through the brush, crashing into Corenden and sending him soaring across the forest floor. Growling, he squared up against his rival pack’s alpha, Rothrike.

“You are responsible for Camy Pup’s death,” Corenden shot at Rothrike.

“Mmhm,” Rothrike mused.

Corenden growled, then bounded off, admitting defeat.

Soon Corenden found himself back at the den’s entrance.

CHAPTER TWO

Tollen greeted him, “Hey, catch anythin’?”

Corenden sighed and emptied his bag. “Four rabbits and half an elk.”

“A good haul,” said Tollen, nodding.

Corenden pranced into the cave. Moss beds lined the walls. At the center of the den a fireplace smoldered. Outside, a few wolves were in their human forms eating the new haul.

Corenden spat in disgust, “I told you to stay in wolf or hybrid form.”

“Sorry!” One of the wolves peeped. “After Camy Pup died, we’ve turned into wolf form less!”

“I know,” Corenden growled.

He pranced over to the fire and sat on his haunches.

“Hello?” Tollen asked, walking to the fire. Corenden sighed. The tensions had been growing ever greater between the packs.

“I know,” Tollen shook his head, “I don’t know how long we can hold out.”

“As long as we want, as long as we keep on fighting,” Corenden replied.

Footsteps echoed through the den. An alarm bark sounded through the forest.

Corenden sat bolt upright and growled, “Get away.”

A gray wolf launched itself from the trees, but Corenden was there to meet them before he realized that his pack was surrounded.

CHAPTER THREE

Corenden leaped into action, trying to intimidate Rothrike’s pack by dashing towards them and barking. Rothrike pounced at him, sending Corenden stumbling. Corenden nipped at Rothrike, attempting to frighten him.

Rothrike growled, “We would have broken up anyway. The merged pack was destined to fall apart!” Corenden sighed. “Of course. You always did seem to bring Camy up in our little skirmishes,” he said.

Rothrike’s gray-white fur stood on end as he lunged at Corenden. Corenden sidestepped, then shifted to hybrid and slid under Rothrike, who then spun around and bit at Corenden. Corenden simply could not dodge the enemy wolves on his left and right, and his back was against the stone wall of the den. Rothrike’s jaw clamped

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down on Corenden’s leg, sending him back into wolf form. Corenden crashed into the den’s stone wall and stumbled to the side.

“Nice chat,” said Corenden. “Let’s get into the action.”

Rothrike lunged once again, but it was too late. Corenden had already escaped, coming in from behind Rothrike, his jaws clamping down on Rothrike’s upper leg. Rothrike howled in pain and thrashed in Corenden’s jaws. Corenden let go, as the fight was even. Rothrike fled on his good foot. Corenden strode back into the den, plopping down on a moss bed. Tollen wandered over.

“We need more hunters,” Corenden woofed.

A few years ago, Rothrike’s pack and Corenden’s pack didn’t exist; they instead lived in one big pack led by an old wolf called Jane. Jane died due to a sickness. At her funeral, Camy Pup had mysteriously died. The packs split after Camy’s death.

“The deaths are too high,” pleaded Tollen. “Winter is coming, and food is low, as we’re short on hunters.”

Corenden got up.

“Then I’ll have to do it myself,” said Corenden.

Corenden slowly walked back to the den. He had spent two weeks hunting. He was slow, weighed down by his kills.

Meanwhile, a fuss had erupted within the den.

“Come on everybody,” Tollen shouted. “We need to settle down. We all agree that Corenden has failed us as an Alpha, but first we need to strategize. And find a new alpha.”

To be continued . . .

The Knife, the Flint, the First Aid Kit

CHAPTER ONE: ??/??/????

Dear Whoever’s Reading This Message, I’ve just opened my eyes and have no clue as to the time, the date, the year, or why I find myself here on this island with no shirt and a ripped pair of shorts. I have vague memories of what “home” would be.

My island contains nothing useful. Sure, it has food and water, tumbleweeds, the typewriter I’m typing on, ink, paper, trees, and undergrowth, but that’s about it. The first day on my island, I explored and had many flashbacks to my hometown, Annsomething. I forgot the second word of the name.

While exploring the island, I found a black stone.

“This won’t help me!” I roared, and smashed it in the sandy soil.

It struck a stone and split into three shards. I suddenly had a flashback of a rocks and minerals book I read. In one section, it showed a similar stone. The picture was captioned, “flint, a stone that when hit by steel creates sparks that have the potential to start a fire.”

I pocketed the stone, realizing that I had pockets. I explored more on the second day and found a machete sticking a note into a tree. It came with a sheath.

The note said, “If you are reading this, you have come to the deserted island of Malulaey (pronounced mal-U-LA-i ). Twenty paces north lays a valuable worth twice its weight in gold.”

“Twenty paces north, hmmmm. If the sun rises east and sets west, then north is dead ahead. Here I go,” I muttered, pocketing the machete.

And off I went with the machete and flint in my pocket. After walking the twenty paces, I saw a mound of recently upturned sand, so I set to work digging with my hand and eventually found white rocks speckled with gray and brown. I almost

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immediately recognized them as not rocks but sea turtle eggs. I didn’t want to eat them for fear of food poisoning. Disappointed, I found another, less conspicuous mound of not sand but dirt. Again I dug with my hands and found a first aid kit almost spewing all sorts of bandages, medical creams, and prep pads. Realizing I had no use for it at the moment, I left it under a tree and went searching for food. While searching for edible grubs, I came upon a large boulder. Thinking there would be many insects to eat, I rolled it away and found a vault door on the ground. I turned the spindle, and it popped open with a hiss. I jumped in and found an abandoned room full of old computers. The one working computer among them said:

Entry_#5032 2/14/1978

This may be the last entry, ever. The UASFTF is losing battles against Unsecure Anomlies. Subject #39645 has gone into a dormant state of consciousness. The tests were successful. The Subject was neutralized, but Subject #39646 of the same species escaped. The Top Scientists suspect it will try to get #39645 out. Other escapees include #35634, #43458, #34318, and #00001. #00001 broke out and couldn’t be stopped. Total human casualties: 642,859. I would enter more but Code 7 Omega alarms are blaing. #00001 and #39646 have been spotted inside the Euclid’s complex.

CHAPTER TWO: A New Friend

I couldn’t help but wonder if there were any survivors from the attack, but discovering this abandoned complex changed my motive from surviving as long as I could on this island to getting off the island ASAP before something happens to me. I looked for the open hatch but could not find it. It was then that I heard the scrapescrape-scraaaape, the telltale sign of claws on tile. I scanned the room for the noise but could not find its origin.

Suddenly there was a screech and a large thud. Whirling around, I nearly tripped on a wounded white creature with six arms and two legs, nearly nine feet tall, spasming on the floor. Out of fright, I dispatched it with the machete from my pocket until it was still. I saw another human. With a katana. A katana.

“Hello?” I said.

“Hello.”

“Can I trust you?”

“I don’t know, can you? Of course you can, but can I trust you?”

“Yes, you can.”

“Do you . . .”

“Want to team up to contain the escapees? No, not yet, I don’t even know your name.”

“Neither do I. What’s yours?”

“I don’t know either, but what’s your story?”

“I woke up on the beach two days ago. The first day I had temporary paralysis and multiple flashbacks. Foraging for food, I crashed through some undergrowth and fell into a different room.” While they told me this, I heard more scraping.

“Shush! Do you hear that? More creatures,” I said. I shivered at the last word and drew my knife.

“Let’s get out of here and we can talk,” they whispered.

“Deal,” I whispered back.

We silently climbed the steel ladder, rung by rung, until we were back on the surface. It was then that I realized they had two katanas.

“Want one? I saw you eyeing them,” they said.

“No, thanks. I know my knife. Plus, we can’t use katanas to cut trees for firewood.”

“I guess you’re right,” they said and frowned.

“And we can’t use it to strike my flint so we can start the fire,” I said, “but should we come across more unsecured anomalies, your skills will come in handy.”

At this, they brightened.

“We can choose names for each other, since I would prefer to call you by something, you know?”

“You could be . . .” they said.

“Frederick,” said a strange whispery voice.

“RUN!” I said.

So I ran until my legs gave out, then I looked back to see if the owner of the voice was chasing us, but it appeared to be crying. So I slowly approached to see its reaction. It jumped on my arm and made a creepy childish giggle, so I chucked it away and saw my arm was gone. It was strange because I had felt no pain and could still feel my arm.

“What was that?” the other human asked in fear.

“I don’t know, but this is getting weirder and weirder the longer I stay.”

I decided my name was Fortiss, as in fortress. They had decided their name would be Crow. I was aloof in shock when my arm disappeared. Could it be invisible? Could I be going insane?

“This is really strange,” I said.

“Welcome to reality,” Crow chuckled harshly.

“Welcome to reality, welcome to reality, welcome to reality, welcome to reality, SQUACK!”

“Run,” I whispered to Crow.

And boy, did we take off! We were thirty meters away before Crow said to stop and look. We were startled by a wee little parrot!

CHAPTER THREE: The Hunted Ones

“Before I stumbled into the bunker, I left a first aid kit under a palm tree. Maybe it has the cure to my invisible arm,” I said.

“Invisible arm? I can see both of your arms just fine,” said Crow.

“Really? Anyways, it will be worthwhile to carry, just in case,” I said.

“Then we’ll make our way over,” said Crow. As I tried to remember which tree it was under, we came across a cave.

“Greetings, Phantom Shapers. Tell me, Why have you stumbled across my cave only now?”

“Did you hear that?” I asked.

“Yeah, but there is no noise,” Crow replied, not knowing why we heard the voice.

“We communicate privately through thought. Come in, and you shall find what you seek.”

“Let’s go,” I whispered to Crow.

“Do not leave, for we have hardly met, and you can see I am quite the poet.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake, let’s get done with this,” Crow said and marched into the dark cave. I followed behind and found that I could see in the dark murkiness. Crow, however, could not and was gibbering in fear.

“Hold onto my arm,” I instructed. Crow did and stopped gibbering.

At last, we entered a large orderly cavern, like a living room but bigger, made for a giant lizard-like creature with three horns. It was coming toward us fast. I stood there, frozen in fear. Crow, however, bolted out the cave entrance. I drew the knife from its sheath and stood my ground. Apparently it was blind to every movement I made and deaf to every sound. So there I stood, waiting for it to notice me. I could have stood there for hours; I honestly couldn’t tell. And I would have stayed there even longer had Crow not screamed.

I rushed out of the cave, knife unsheathed, rushing up to meet whatever was out there. I would have run back to the cave if Crow hadn’t been held captive by a giant three-headed centipede longer than two school buses put together. It had Crow pinned under one of many large feet. Crow was attempting to sever its leg with the katana but was failing. I sped over and started hacking away, only making it more irate. At this, the monster stomped away, nearly killing Crow. I rushed over to make sure they were okay, and Crow wasn’t in the slightest. They were winded and Crow was close to choking. The creature burst into flame and imploded upon itself. I looked around and saw the ashes of the beast’s body and remembered that burnt things burn more easily. I decided that it would be a good idea to take the ashes in case I needed a fire starter. This is where I decided to make camp.

Long after the fire died, Crow suddenly spoke. “I think we should go back into the bunker.”

“Why?” I asked. “Something felt off when I went in, remember?”

“Still, I feel like there is something there that is in the bunker. Something dangerous.”

That hung in the air for a while. I took a sudden interest in Crow’s matte black hair.

“Your name is Crow, and your hair is a bird’s nest.” I joked.

Crow cracked a smile, and their chapped lips started to bleed.

“Darn it. Darn it,” they said, and dabbed their lips.

“We should go back to the bunker and set up camp.”

“Why?” Crow asked.

“I think something is off,” I said. “It seems too controlled, too narrated. You know?”

To be continued . . .

GWEN ETHERIDGE . . . age 10

Splat!

CHAPTER ONE

Once there was a cabin in the woods about five miles away from a small village. In this cabin lived a little girl named Ari and her ill mother. Every day, Ari would walk to the village with artwork that she painted and sell it. Afterward, she walked back home and cooked dinner, and soon after went to bed. But today was different. Ari woke up feeling refreshed and energized. She got dressed in an orange-and-white dress with butterflies on it and a butterfly hair clip to match the dress. Ari opened the door with a bag of her art tucked under her left arm. She began to follow the trail into town. After a few minutes, she heard thunder; a storm was coming. She could see dark clouds in the distance. She didn’t want her drawings to get wet and ruined, so she ran. The rain began to pour down on her as she ran, looking for shelter.

After she found shelter under a big rock, she began to look at her drawings, making sure they weren’t ruined. The raindrops splashed against the rough and bumpy rock as Ari waited for the rain to pass. But after a little while, she began to feel sleepy. She fell asleep with her head resting on her knee. Once she woke up, the storm was gone, and the moon was high in the sky.

“Oh no!” cried Ari. “All the shops are closed!”

She sprung up and bumped her head on the roof of the rock. “Ow!” she exclaimed, rubbing her head.

She felt around but could not find her drawings. “Oh, where are they?” she cried. She searched around the area, but her drawings were nowhere to be found. Tears flooded Ari’s eyes as she sighed.

“Now I have to go home empty-handed,” whispered Ari. But suddenly she realized something. “Wait, where is home?”

She looked around, but she could not see the trail. She was lost. She began to cry, but then she saw a light up ahead. It was an old woman holding a lantern.

Continued on next page ↩

“Why are you out here, young lady, at the dead of night?” asked the woman.

“I’m lost,” sniffed Ari. “I can’t find my home.”

The woman began to walk toward her when she looked down and began to pull something out of a pile of leaves.

“My! What pretty drawings! Are these yours, dear?” the woman said, holding out her drawings.

“My drawings!” cried out Ari happily.

Ari ran over to the woman and hugged her.

“How about getting you home?” said the woman. “Do you remember anything around your home?”

“There’s a path leading to the village from my home,” sniffed Ari.

“Now, now, dear, don’t cry,” said the woman, patting her on the back. “Do you know what I do when I’m sad? I look at what’s in front of me.”

Ari looked in front of her. “But there’s nothing there,” said Ari.

The woman dangled the lantern in front of her eyes. Then Ari saw it. The light revealed that seven feet in front of them was the cracked, old, dirt path.

“Would you like me to walk home with you? It is very late,” asked the woman, looking up at the moon.

“No thank you, you’ve already done so much for me,” said Ari.

Then the woman walked away, but Ari noticed something laying on the ground. Ari walked up to it and picked it up. It was a paint can filled with silver-and-gold paint.

“Miss, I think you dropped something,” said Ari.

“Keep it. I have more at home,” replied the woman, looking over her shoulder.

Then Ari walked to the path with the lantern in her right hand and her drawing under her left. Once she reached home, she fell to her knees and kissed the soft grass. She opened the door to find her mother and her mother’s boyfriend talking to each other. “Mom, why’s John here?” asked Ari.

But instead of her mother answering her, John did. “Young lady, you are grounded!” screamed John. “Now go and make dinner.”

John and Ari walked to the kitchen and John sat down. Ari bent down to get the pot for dinner, but the paint jar slipped out of her pocket and rolled to John’s feet. He picked it up.

“What’s this?” said John, picking up the jar.

“Hey, give it back!” cried Ari, trying to grab back the jar.

“Oops,” said John as he dropped the jar, and it shattered on the floor. “Hope you don’t mind cleaning that up for me.” John walked away. Ari was crying.

She sat down and cried harder. Suddenly she felt something cold on her ankle. She looked down and saw a hand colored as the paint. The hand began to pull Ari’s ankle towards the paint.

“Hey, stop that!” cried Ari. Suddenly more hands began to pop out of the paint to grab her.

“Help!” Ari’s voice was drowned out as she was pulled into the paint. Her body felt as if she was in freezing cold water as she fell, unable to breathe, unable to move. Suddenly, air was rushing past her as she fell down and smacked down on the hard, rocky ground. She was in pain and too weak to move, so she just laid there.

CHAPTER TWO

“Hey, are you alright?” a voice asked.

Ari sat up slowly. “Yeah, I think,” said Ari, opening her eyes.

Ari looked around. She wasn’t home.

“Hey, down here!” squeaked a voice. “Welcome to the falls!”

Ari looked down. A little person the size of a thumb was waving up at her. The little person had a ponytail, a blue pointy hat, the triangle dress you often find on a stick figure drawing that was also blue, and arms and legs like a stick figure. Ari was frozen in fear. Continued on next page

“My name is Polly, what’s yours?”

“A-Ari,” Ari said as she became less tense.

“What are you?” asked Ari.

“An elf!” Polly said.

Polly began to climb up Ari’s knee and sat down.

“Where am I?” asked Ari.

“Like I said before, the falls!” cried Polly. “It’s named this because the most common way to die here is falling off the floating island!”

“W-What?” said Ari fearfully.

“Here, let me show you around!” said Polly, hopping down from Ari’s knee.

Ari didn’t know what to do, so she just stood up and followed Polly. It was hard to not step on Polly, but she made it to the edge of the floating island. Ari looked out into the distance. It was beautiful. There were four floating islands of all shapes and sizes and weirdness. One island would have a waterfall going up into the sky, some would have blimps floating around them made from cloth and wool, and some would have a hole in them filled with cities and homes inside.

“Isn’t this neat?” asked Polly.

Ari nodded.

“Never got your name, stranger.” said Polly.

“Ari,” Ari replied.

“Well, Ari, why don’t we go get you some rest,” said Polly.

“I am a little sleepy,” said Ari.

Suddenly Polly let out a big scream, and Ari covered her ears.

“Why did you do that?” cried Ari.

Suddenly out of nowhere, a ladder dropped down in front of Ari’s face.

“Climb aboard!” a voice cried from the blimp.

CHAPTER THREE

Polly jumped on Ari’s shoulder.

“Let’s ride!” cried Polly.

Ari didn’t know what to do at first but told herself, What’s the worst that could happen?

Ari climbed up the rope ladder. Once she reached the top, she saw that a gnome was flying the blimp.

“Tickets please!” cried the gnome with a grin.

“I don’t have a ticket,” said Ari.

The gnome’s grin changed to a face of disgust.

“Then get off me blimp!” screamed the gnome.

“Relax Stubby, she’s with me.”

Polly climbed up her shoulder and sat down.

“Find a seat,” groaned the gnome.

Ari said, “Thank you Mr. . . .”

“Stubby.”

“What?”

“Me name’s Mr. Stubby.”

Ari began to walk down the aisle past rows of seats, then she sat down in the last row of the seats. Ari sat down. Polly climbed down Ari’s shoulder and plopped down in the seat beside Ari.

“Would you like anything to eat?” asked a sweet little voice.

Ari turned her head and saw a kitten with silver fur covered in black-and-orange speckles.

“I’m starving! Do you have any pie?” cried Ari.

“Sun ray or moon beam?” asked the kitten.

Continued on next page

“I beg your pardon?” said Ari.

“Moon. Beam. Or: Sun. Ray,” said the cat slowly.

“Moon beam, I suppose,” Ari said, confused.

“Good choice,” said the kitten.

Ari leaned her head on the headrest and tried to get some rest.

“Hey, Ari, your pie’s here,” Polly yelled in Ari’s ear.

Sitting in front of Ari were two large slices of pie. Ari picked up a slice of pie and took a bite.

“It tastes like meringue,” cried Ari, stuffing her mouth full of pie.

“Slow down!” cried Polly.

But Ari didn’t listen. In less than five minutes the plate was empty and every crumb was eaten.

“Wow, you were hungry!” exclaimed Polly.

“You have no idea how hungry,” sighed Ari.

“We have arrived at island number three,” Mr. Stubby said on the loudspeaker.

“Hey Ari, look out the window,” said Polly, grinning.

Ari looked out the window. Her jaw dropped. In front of the blimp was a giant island with a hole carved into its side. The blimp flew down to the hole in the island, and Ari and Polly jumped out!

“Thanks Mister Stubby!” cried Ari as she waved at the blimp.

“Come on Ari, let’s go get you a room,” Polly said.

“OK?” replied Ari. Ari turned around and saw a centaur working at a desk in front of her.

“Go over to her,” Polly whispered in Ari’s ear. Ari walked up to the centaur.

“Excuse me!” cried Ari. The centaur looked up from the piece of paper.

“How may I help you?” asked the centaur.

“We’re renting a room,” said Polly, who was sitting on Ari’s shoulder.

“Right, do you have payment?”

Polly jumped off Ari’s shoulder and handed the centaur an acorn. The centaur gave Polly a key with the number two printed on it.

“Have a nice day!” the centaur said with a joyful tone.

Polly jumped off the counter and walked over to a ladder, dragging the key behind her.

“Come on, Ari!” cried Polly.

Ari walked over to the ladder and picked up Polly. Ari climbed up the ladder with Polly on her shoulder until she stopped. On the left side of the ladder was a wooden sign with the number two on it. Next to the sign was a red, round door with a small little platform under it. Ari jumped to the platform and grabbed the doorknob to keep her balance. Below the doorknob was a keyhole covered with dirt and rust. Ari looked down at the key in her hand. It was also covered with rust. She put the key in the keyhole and turned the key. She heard the door unlock, and she slowly opened the door. She peeked her head through and saw that the room was a small den made out of mud and dirt. It also smelled like rotting meat. In the corner was a broom and a duster. On the ceiling were large cobwebs. The room looked like it hadn’t been touched for years. Ari walked into the room.

“Yeez! Of all the rooms we could have gotten, we got a dump!” cried Polly with anger.

“Well, I like it,” argued Ari. Ari sneezed, “Well, I suppose there’s some dust,” Ari giggled, “and it lacks furniture.”

“I can fix that!” said Polly.

“How?” asked Ari.

“Put me down,” said Polly.

Ari put Polly down.

“Now turn around.”

Ari turned around. The utter silence turned to the sound of a drill and woodcutting.

Continued on next page ↩

“Okay, turn around!”

Ari turned around and saw about one thousand elves in front of her, about the same size as Polly. And behind the elves, Ari could see that the room had been cleaned, a bed was in the right-hand corner of the room, a couch was on the left side of the room next to a fireplace, and a rug lay in the middle of the room.

“Do you like it?” asked Polly.

“I love it,” Ari said. “Thank you.”

Ari walked over to the bed and laid down.

“Night, Polly!” said Ari.

“Night, Ari,” responded Polly.

The End

About 826michigan

826michigan inspires school-aged students to write with skill and confidence in collaboration with adult volunteers in their communities.

Our writing and tutoring programs uphold a culture of creativity and imagination and support students in establishing strong habits of mind. Through publication and community engagement, we provide students with an authentic and enthusiastic audience for their writing.

Our programs provide an energizing creative outlet for students and meaningful volunteer opportunities for community members. We believe that with one-onone attention from caring adults, students improve their academic performance, develop a sense of belonging, and discover the unique value of their voices.

We also believe that the more fun a student has, and the more directly we speak to a student’s interests, the more we can help students find the fun in learning. That’s why our programs are more than just extra assignments. All of our programs are challenging and enjoyable, and ultimately strengthen each student’s power to express ideas effectively, creatively, confidently, and in their individual voice.

AFTER-SCHOOL WRITING LAB

In this weekly program, we build a supportive community of writers where students brainstorm, write, revise, and publish a story of their choosing. At the end of the program, students’ writing is published in a book and celebrated with a book release party. Each session includes a mini lesson taught by 826michigan staff and introduction to a new writer’s habit, such as Writers Change their Minds and Writers Make Plans–and Break Them! Students discuss and practice these new habits as they go through the writing process, building their own toolkit of writing practices and preferences.

WORKSHOPS

We offer a number of free writing workshops taught by professional artists, writers, and our talented volunteers. From comic books to screenplays, bookmaking to radio, our wide variety of workshops are perfect for writers of all ages and interests. One of the most popular workshops we offer is our weekly Wee-bots program for elementary-aged writers.

IN-SCHOOL PROJECTS

Our staff and trained volunteers go into local public schools to support teachers with their classroom writing goals. In partnership with the teacher’s writing curriculum, our projects range from writing fairy tales to crafting college essays to exploring poetry. We also partner with schools to hold Family Writing Labs: laughter-filled events in which families come together and participate in an evening of engaging writing activities and community connection.

FIELD TRIPS & ROADSHOWS

Always full of surprises and theatrics (and sometimes a visit from our grumpy editor, Dr. Blotch), our Field Trip program is an experiential writing extravaganza. We welcome teachers to bring their classes in for field trips during the school day or we can bring the party to schools as a field trip roadshow! Students join a group of volunteers, interns, and staff to help solve a problem through writing—whether that is Dr. Blotch’s insomnia, our looming story deadline, a mystery in need of solving, or one of the many others we encounter. Our field trips always end in a finished publication of original writing that students take home. Often the field trip writing is connected to a second leg of the students’ journey, whether a trip to a museum, library, or local record label, thanks to our many incredible community partners.

OUR STORE

Our Robot Supply Co. store is a one-stop shop for robots, robot owners, and enthusiasts alike. It is designed to inspire creativity and bring awareness of our programs to the community. In addition, our online store is always open; visit the Robot Supply Co. at onwardrobots.com . All proceeds from our store directly fund our free student programming.

Onward robots!

826 National was inspired to take a stand on issues of inclusion and diversity in light of the many events that spotlighted social and racial injustices throughout the country. We as educators, volunteers, and caring adults need to be aware of the wide range of issues our students face on a day-to-day basis. We need to support these young people as they navigate through and try to make sense of the world and their own identities.

We need the support and the feedback from our community to ensure 826 is living up to these standards. Through our inclusion statement, our internal diversity and inclusion group, cultural competency resources provided to staff and volunteers, and partnerships with other organizations, we are always working towards being a more inclusive and supportive organization.

We at 826 have the privilege of working with the next generation of scholars, teachers, doctors, artists, lawyers, and writers. It's our job to make sure they are able to take their own stands.

As an organization committed to encouraging youth in their creative expression, personal growth, and academic success, 826 National and its chapters recognize the importance of diversity at all levels and in all aspects of our work. In order to build and maintain the safe, supportive 826 environment in which great leaps in learning happen, we commit ourselves to inclusion: we do not discriminate on the basis of race, religion, ethnicity, age, gender identity, sexual orientation, socio-economic status, nationality, marital status, English fluency, parental status, military service, or disability.

The 826 National network is committed to encouraging youth to express themselves and to use the written word to effectively do so. We encourage our students to write, take chances, make decisions, and finish what they start. And 826 strives to do this in an environment free from discrimination and exclusion.

by Gerald Richards, CEO

A way to figure things out by ourselves

A way to help us connect to our world

We create a safe place to be ourselves and try new things

We support the ways that writers work (like thinking, sketching, talking)

We study the writing we want to do so we can try it

We learn how to change our writing for genre, audience, and purpose

We work with a group of writers who help and support each other

A way for us to use our power to make changes and build a better world

www.826michigan.org

A way to help us learn who we are and who we will become

Tremendous thanks to

Grace Metcalf and Meg Ward, our outstanding and organized After-school Interns.

Aaron Stone, our detailed and determined editor.

Darren Cools, our terrifically talented publication designer.

With special thanks to Catherine Calabro Cavin , Education Director emeritus.

And To Our After-school Volunteers:

Julie Abarca

Grace Abbud

Rachel Anderson

Eshal Basra

Emma Bogomilsky

Hailey Callan

Chihuiye (Hedy) Chen

Anne Cong-Huyen

Jess Dailey

Caroline Dedyo

Natalie Dziuban

Ahmed Elkhatib

Reilly French

Tyáe Grant

Wenting Guo

Alexa Hamama

Rebecca Hopkins

Victor Jia

Pranav Joshi

Julia Kanter

Ann Kim

Gina Kittleson

Mark Kneisel

Ella Larsen

Anne Leach

Em Liker

Abhiram Machammagari

Ziggy Martin

Eli Miller

Ashley Miller

Kaila Morris

Shrimann Myneni

Max Nelson

Billie Ochberg

Jim Ottaviani

Erin Page

Deepa Ramesh

Rye Roberts

Delanie Schaffer

Tessa Scully

Avi Segaloff

Tanya Shah

Mazen Shahbain

Diamond Sharpe

Ashley Strauss

Dilan Swami

Liem Swanson

Rachel Tucker

Ziyun (Carol) Wang

Pete Westhead

Rod White

Jesse Wilcox

Shanshan Ye

826michigan inspires school-aged students to write with skill and confidence in collaboration with adult volunteers in their communities.

Find out more at 826michigan.org