Issue 8 February 2012
cover art by Richard Fay A publication of Silver Pen, Incorporated
The Silver Pen Writers’ Association Presents a Silver Pen, Incorporated Publication
Kids'Magination Magazine Director and Publisher: Sue Babcock Fiction Editor: Kellee Kranendonk Cover Art: Richard Fay Kids’Magination Magazine is a publication of Silver Pen, Incorporation, which is a non-profit organization focused on quality writing and reading. Kids’Magination Learning Center is a division of Silver Pen dedicated to children who are eager to write stories about the fantastic flights of their imaginations. Copyright ©2011. All reights reserved. No part of this publication may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information contact sue@silverpen.org All stories herein have been compiled by Silver Pen, Incorporated under Kids’Magination Magazine. These are works of fiction. All characters and events protrayed in this book are either products of the author’s imagination or are fictitiously used.
www.kidsmagination.com
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Contents Contents
A Dragon’s Tail 1 written by Shari Klase
Charles Dickens Birthday Bicentenary (Born: February 7th 1812 - Died 9th June 1870) 8 written by Helen Finch
The Magical Adventures of Grandfather’s Book by Svetlana Kortchik
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Fiction A Dragon’s Tail written by Shari Klase
“You are the worst sort of dragon,” Dudley had been told all his life since he was a baby, newly hatched from the egg. He had come to believe it about himself because if you hear something long enough it becomes part and parcel of who you are. Dudley’s father had told him that at the beginning when he had been the last of the hatchlings. His brothers and sister had been perfect in all their scaly ways from head to tail. But that was just Dudley’s problem. He had no tail and it had been the ruin of his life. Aside from the fact that he was hideous, tails were useful, even necessary for all sorts of things if one was a dragon. It was a wonderful defense weapon. A dragon could hurl his tail at an enemy or at its prey and be sure of a quick victory. Even his mother had told him he was a useless sort of dragon, even though she had said it affectionately while patting his head. However, when his siblings and would be friends said it, it was not to pity him. Now Dudley was all alone. The other dragons migrated every year to the Craggy Mountains where they went to refuel their fire-breathing powers in the lava pools of the volcano. He could not go. It was too far. The worst thing about being tail-less was that he couldn’t fly. He had tried many times. It was no use. He managed to glide a bit and then he would crash into trees or underbrush. Dragon’s tails are used for extra lift and steering. Without a tail, Dudley would be forever flightless and therefore, truly, the worst sort of a dragon, a deformed misfit. Page 1
He had spent many years alone. He had given up hunting. He could not pounce on his prey from above. He couldn’t outrun it. Without a tail, he wobbled a bit as he ran. He could not even swim without a tail for a rudder so he was a poor fisherman. Instead he had taken to eating fruit from trees. There was one thing Dudley could do that other dragons couldn’t. He could climb. He had no tail to get in the way of the branches. Other dragons had no need to climb. They did not believe Dudley’s climbing ability anything boast-worthy, so even that had not managed to boost Dudley’s self-esteem. One day while climbing an apple tree, Dudley almost ran headlong into a hungry youth upon the same mission as himself – collecting apples. “I say,” Frederick said, startled – for that was the boy’s name. “Are you going to eat me?” “Why would I want to eat you?” Dudley asked in disgust. “You are a dragon, aren’t you? Don’t you eat village people and carry off princesses and all that?” Dudley snorted. “That, you stupid boy, is a myth. Dragons hunt for a living, but they don’t hunt people. They eat deer and sheep and cows and such, but never people. Of course, there is the bad egg every now and then who will eat or kill a person who is in his way. But it’s not the rule.” Frederick eyed the dragon curiously. “Then why are you in this apple tree if you are not after me?” “I didn’t know you were in this tree. I was after apples, not you!” “Why were you after apples if you hunt for a living?” Frederick asked suspiciously. “We can’t all hunt sheep and cows and such, can we? What would become of all the livestock then? I just happen to be hunting apples,” Dudley offered. He was not about to tell this boy his terrible secret. “Now go away! There are lots of apple trees in these parts.” Frederick glared at Dudley. “I have just as much right to apples in this tree as you do.” Then he paused warily. “By the way, I’ve heard that dragons breathe fire. Is that a myth also?” “No!” Dudley sighed. “That is not a myth. Just now, all the dragons have migrated to the Craggy Mountains to refuel their fires. However, as I haven’t gone, I have no fire at present.” Page 2
Frederick looked at him cock-eyed. “Just why haven’t you gone with the other dragons? Are you some sort of dragon outcast?” “If you must know, stupid boy, I cannot fly so I cannot go to the Craggy Mountains.” With this admission, Dudley slid down from the tree and landed with a thud. He was about to make his getaway when Frederick fell down beside him and stopped him. “I’m sorry, dragon, if I have offended you. I’ve never really spoken to dragons before. And really, I’m not a stupid boy. I am of age. My name is Frederick.” Dudley turned shyly to Frederick and offered a claw to shake. “I’m Dudley. I’ve never talked to boys before. In fact, I very seldom talk to anyone. Actually I am a bit of an outcast because of my lack of flying ability.” Dudley spread his wings around himself in shame. “I don’t know why. You seem to have wings.” Dudley hung his head. “Looks can be deceiving. I am the worst sort of dragon. I have no tail. Without a tail, I cannot fly. I can’t hunt. I can’t run fast or even swim. In short, I am useless.” Frederick looked at him thoroughly. “I don’t think so. You have claws and sharp teeth. You’re large and you climb very well. Really, you are quite a handsome dragon. Tails aren’t everything!” “That’s easy for you to say,” Dudley sniffed. Frederick thought for a moment and then he hit upon an idea. “What you need is a quest. You have no purpose in life. If you find your purpose, you will be a transformed dragon, Dud. May I call you Dud?” Dudley nodded. “I’ve been called worse. Can I call you Fred?” Frederick nodded. “I am on a quest myself, Dud. Why don’t you join me?” “What sort of quest?” “The fair princess, Eleanora, was taken captive years ago by a rival king, Egbert. King Egbert is seeking to enlarge his kingdom by marrying Eleanora. He stole her away from her father, King Socrates. He keeps her in a high tower at his castle until she agrees to marry him. I am going to his castle and rescue her. Many others have tried and failed, but I am going to Page 3
succeed!” Dudley sighed and regarded his new friend closely. “If others have failed, what makes you think you can succeed?” Frederick smiled at him slyly. “Others don’t have the key to the tower. My mother was a serving girl to Princess Eleanora, working for King Egbert and felt sorry for the young princess. My father is a blacksmith and he made a duplicate key in hopes of setting Eleanora free. But King Egbert got wind of the plan, took my mother’s duplicate key and banished my family to the other side of the kingdom.” Dudley looked at Frederick with a puzzled expression. “But if King Egbert took the duplicate key…” “King Egbert is not very bright.” Frederick laughed. “If he thinks that my father would make only one duplicate key. Besides, I happen to have a very talented climbing dragon as a friend. King Socrates has promised Princess Eleanora’s hand in marriage to her rescuer. I am sure there will be a place for a powerful dragon like yourself.” Dudley snorted. “Princess Eleanora will never trust a dragon. She will not even leave the tower with me!” Frederick laid a hand on Dudley’s claw. “But she will go with me, Dud. She knows me. I’ve spoken to her many times. She will remember me. Trust me!” Dudley squinted his eyes at Frederick. Then he shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose if you want to put your faith in the worst sort of dragon, I will join your quest.” Dudley and Frederick made quite a spectacle as they journeyed together to the Castle Duncannon where Princess Eleanora was held captive. Not only were a dragon and boy walking together a sight, butDudley walked on two feet not being hindered by a tail and quite used to standing upright to look into tree tops. “Those wings must be good for something besides flying,” Frederick suggested. Dudley nodded. “Oh, they are. When I tuck my head in and enclose myself within them, they are like a shield. Arrows and spears bounce right off them.” Page 4
“That could be useful,” Frederick replied. As they neared the castle Dudley spied a moat. As all good castles are surrounded by moats, he should not have been surprised. “I told you I can’t swim,” Dudley reminded him . “Never mind swimming. Can you use those wings for short glides?” Frederick asked, pointing at a tree next to the moat. “That I can do. Climb on, Fred.” Frederick climbed on Dudley’s back and up Dudley climbed to the highest branch, spread his wings and glided easily across the moat. They made a bit of crash landing but Frederick dusted himself off and soon they were beside the castle walls. “This castle doesn’t look too intimidating..It’s covered with good, sturdy vines. Hop on!” Frederick climbed onto Dudley’s back once again and they made short work of the walls and high tower. Dudley dug his claws into the nooks and crannies easily. Of course, the guards were no problem, either as once Dudley enclosed Frederick with his wings, no weapon could hurt them. As Frederick unlocked the tower door with the key, Princess Eleanora cried out at the sight of the dragon. “He is a friend!” Frederick reassured her. “And so am I.” “I remember you. You are the son of my serving girl. You and your mother were always kind to me. But you have risked much coming here.” Just then, the door from the other side of the room flew open, and King Egbert entered. His face was red with fury. “You think it is so easy for a mere boy to rescue a princess from one as powerful as I!” he shouted. Dudley stepped out of the shadows. “A mere boy, maybe, but how about a dragon?” he roared. He grabbed King Egbert with his claws and flung him over the tower wall. Frederick’s mouth opened wide in astonishment. “I didn’t think you had it in you, Dud!” Page 5
“Is King Egbert dead?” Eleanora asked. Dudley looked over the side of the tower. “No, but I’m terribly afraid he has fallen into the moat. Let’s hope we don’t suffer the same fate because I can’t swim. Hop on!” Frederick and Eleanora climbed on Dudley’s back and the three sailed wobbly from the castle wall and abruptly landed with a crash on the other side of the moat. The Princess and Frederick climbed disheveled and dizzy from Dudley’s back. “Does your dragon always fly so badly?” she asked shakily. “I’m afraid so,” Frederick replied. The trio headed happily home to King Socrates’ castle. As it was on the other side of the kingdom, Eleanora and Frederick had much time to fall in love on the journey. Sometimes it is quite lucky to have a flightless dragon for a friend. When they arrived home, Eleanora and Frederick were married in due
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course with the King’s gratitude and blessing. As for Dudley, he was appointed Captain of the Royal Guard and awarded a special suit of armor with a built-on tail. As he inspected himself in the mirror with his new armor on, he frowned. “What is the matter, Dud?” Frederick asked, at the dragon’s unhappy expression. “I don’t believe I need a tail after all,” he replied, shedding the armor. “As a dragon, I’m really not a bad sort at all.” Frederick laughed. “Dud, you are the best sort of dragon!” THE END AUTHOR BIO: Shari Klase is a writer and poet who enjoys writing children’s stories especially. She has published in The Kids’ Ark,Shine Brightly, Stories for Children Magazine, and Guardian Angel Kids. Writing for her is more than a hobby. It is a passion and a gift.
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Historical Birthday Charles Dickens Birthday Bicentenary (Born: February 7th 1812 - Died 9th June 1870) written by Helen Finch
Charles John Huffam Dickens was born in Portsmouth on the south coast of England on Friday February 7th 1812. He is a well-known Victorian writer who wrote a many novels some of which you may have heard of. Two that have been made into films that you may have seen are Oliver Twist and A Christmas Carol with Scrooge. Dickens did go to school but when he was 12 years old his father was sent to prison because he owed money. His mother, brothers and sisters also went with him to live at the debtors prison. Fortunately, Charles was sent to live with someone else but he had to get a job so that he could support his family. Charles went to work in a factory where he had to stick labels on to pots of boot blacking (a form of polish). Hours were long and conditions appalling for such young children. Imagine if children of 12 years old now had to go out to work to support their family. The experience of working in such a Page 8
place and seeing how people struggled was imprinted on Dickens’ mind. As he grew up Dickens wanted to make his life better. The life of poverty that Dickens experienced had an effect on him. He married Catherine Hogarth in 1836 and they had 10 children. Dickens’ writing was becoming well known, he became a journalist and a playwright. Unfortunately as his sons grew up they too became careless with money ending up in debt. Dickens wasn’t happy with this and this caused problems in the family. Eventually Dickens and his wife separated. Charles Dickens also travelled. His first visit to America was in 1842. He sailed on the steamship “Britannia” from Liverpool on the west coast of Britain on 3rd January. The journey across the Atlantic was rough but finally they arrived on 22 January where he was greeted with excitement. Dickens travelled to Illinois and New York and other places in America, visiting hospitals, prisons and schools for blind and deaf children. He also went to Washington where he met President John Tyler. He then travelled south where he witnessed slavery first-hand, which he found most upsetting. He wrote the events of this journey in a book entitled “American Notes”. Charles returned to America for a second visit in 1867/68. Whilst he was there he was asked by Samuel Gridley Howe, the founder of the Perkins School for the Blind in Massachusetts if he would give permission to have his book “The Old Curiosity Shop” published in Braille (this is in the format of dots on pages which blind people can read with their fingers). Dickens was very pleased with this idea so paid for 250 Braille copies to be printed and ensured they were distributed to every blind school in the USA. Charles Dickens had several places where he lived in England. There is now a Dickens Museum which is his only London property remaining. His country home in Gads Hill in Kent is where he died in 1870, leaving one Page 9
book unfinished. There are various places which have Dickens Festivals, Rochester in Kent has two a year, one in the summer and one at Christmas and Broadstairs in Kent, another place where he would go to write, has a week-long festival in June. People will dress up in Dickensian costume and transform the area into a Victorian wonderland. Men wear long-tailed suits and top hats and ladies wear bonnets and ankle length dresses. Back in London you can join a Dickens walk. Moving slowly through the streets and alleyways and passing buildings that inspired his writing. On a quiet Sunday you can easily imagine Oliver Twist and his unlikely band of pickpockets stopping a well-dressed gentleman and asking for some coins. “Scuse me Mister, can you spare a coin or two?� whilst having his pocket watch or wallet plucked unnoticed from his pocket. Although fiction, you must not forget that this was the sort of behaviour that Dickens witnessed at this time. Within his stories is an enormous amount of fact. So if you get the opportunity to read Dickens or see a film of one of his books, remember that most of it is based on what really happened. AUTHOR BIO: Helen Finch is a working Mum of two boys aged 12 and 7. She loves writing all sorts and has two non-fiction books published, most recent Kiddiwalks in London. Her hobbies include: Painting, walking, cycling, genealogy, knitting, crafts and holidays beachcoming for fossils with our rescue mastiff, but she particularly enjoys spending time with her husband and boys.
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Fiction The Magical Adventures of Grandfather’s Book by Svetlana Kortchik
Late afternoon sun trickled through the open window, dancing on the table that was strewn with books and notepads. Although he was supposed to be studying, Andrey was busy watching the clouds outside, which were constantly shifting and changing shape. The small cloud that looked like a dog but a minute ago had just turned into something distantly resembling a dinosaur. And that one over there was definitely a submarine. The doorbell rang, and Andrey jumped up, shutting his textbook with relief. His best friend Max was outside. ‘Are you coming out to play?’ Andrey shrugged his shoulders, his voice thick with disappointment. ‘Can’t today. I have to finish my history assignment.’ ‘Come on, just for an hour! Stan borrowed his brother’s bike.’ Max looked as if he was about to jump up and down with excitement. Andrey sighed. It wasn’t every day that Stan’s older brother Boris let them borrow his racing bike. But he remembered the ominously blank piece of paper on his desk and shook his head. ‘No. It’s due tomorrow. I hate school!’ ‘Well, come out when it’s finished,’ said Max, already halfway down the stairs. ‘Who was that, Andrey?’ asked his grandfather, looking up from his newspaper. ‘It was Max, grandfather. He wanted me to come out but I have to finish my history assignment first.’ ‘What is your assignment about?’ Grandfather put the paper down and adjusted his glasses. Page 11
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‘World War II. It’s so boring! I don’t even know where to start.’ ‘I always enjoyed studying history. Behind every historical fact there are millions of lives and experiences, and thousands of fascinating stories.’ Andrey looked at his grandfather with surprise. ‘What do I care? It’s in the past.’ ‘Many valuable lessons can be learnt from history. In fact, I have a very good book on World War II. It’s over there somewhere.’ Grandfather got up and walked to one of the bookshelves, which lined every wall in the lounge room and held hundreds of books that he collected over the years. ‘Ah, here it is,’ he exclaimed with satisfaction, pulling out an old dusty tome. ‘Be careful with it, it’s a very special book.’ Andrey took the book and flicked through it. ‘There are no pictures,’ he complained. ‘You can always use your imagination.’ Grandfather winked and sank back into the armchair, picking up his paper. Andrey tucked the book under his arm. ‘Grandfather, can we get a puppy?’ ‘A puppy? Maybe. But only if you promise to look after it. I had a dog growing up. His name was Mars.’ ‘Cool! I’ll look after the puppy, I promise. When can we get one?’ Andrey quivered with enthusiasm. ‘We’ll see,’ said the grandfather, laughing. *** Andrey sat down at his desk and, opening his grandfather’s book, read a couple of pages. He picked up his pen, scratched his head and threw the pen on the table again. ‘I hate history!’ he exclaimed, shutting the book. As soon as he did that, something strange happened. The old frazzled book cover lit up with rays of bright blue light that soon filled the whole room. The floor under his feet shook and the pen slid off the table. Andrey squeezed his eyes shut in amazement. When he opened them again, everything was back to normal. ‘That was weird,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I think it’s time for some playstation.’ He walked into the lounge room. His grandfather was nowhere to be seen. There was no sign of his playstation, either. In fact, he didn’t recognize any of the furniture in the room. Their flat screen TV was missing, and in its Page 13
place there was something that looked like one of the old radios from his uncle’s antique shop. Andrey looked around in disbelief and ran back to his bedroom. Everything was different there too, apart from his grandfather’s book that was still sitting on a table that looked nothing like his brand new oak computer desk. He picked up the book and shook it, opening and closing it again, but nothing happened. Frustrated, he kicked it under the bed. ‘Hey! What are you doing in my room?’ Turning around, Andrey saw a boy of about his age standing in the doorway. His hair was red and his face was covered in freckles. The boy smirked angrily. ‘This is my room! What are you doing here?’ Andrey couldn’t believe the boy’s audacity. ‘I live here. Who are you?’ ‘You don’t live here. This is my house and I’ve never seen you before in my life.’ ‘What are you, crazy? Oh, I know, you must be from the shelter across the road that got bombed yesterday. There were all sorts of crazy folk living there. How did you get in here?’ Puzzled, Andrey stared at the boy. ‘Bombed? What do you mean, bombed?’ ‘I mean, a shell fell on it and the whole building exploded.’ The boy pointed at the window. Looking outside, Andrey saw a collapsed building and shuddered. ‘Where did the shell come from?’ he asked, his eyes widening in astonishment. Maybe this boy was right and he was losing his mind. ‘What planet are you from? We are fighting a war, or did you forget?’ said the boy, looking at Andrey with suspicion. ‘Maybe you are a German spy!’ Andrey’s eyes fell on the book that was still under the bed and he stepped towards the boy. ‘What year is it?’ ‘Stay away from me!’ The boy backed off, looking worried. ‘I don’t talk to crazies.’ ‘Who are you calling crazy?’ Andrey’s hands clasped into fists and he squared his chest. ‘Dmitri, dinner is ready,’ came a voice from the kitchen. Page 14
‘Try to explain who you are to my mama,’ said Dmitri threateningly, leaving the room. Reluctantly, Andrey followed him. ‘Did you wash your hands?’ Dmitri’s mother was a perfectly round woman with bright orange hair and the biggest brown eyes Andrey had ever seen. ‘Who is that? You didn’t tell me you had a friend over.’ ‘He’s not my friend! He’s crazy. I think he’s a German spy. Found him in my room.’ Dmitri’s mother looked at Andrey and he felt his face turn a bright shade of red. ‘I’m not a spy! I think I’m from the future. There was this book, and then everything went bright blue and…’ ‘Told you, crazy!’ Dmitri glared at Andrey with glee. ‘What’s your name, boy?’ Dmitri’s mother looked concerned, her kind eyes not leaving Andrey’s face. ‘Andrey.’ ‘You can call me Larisa. Where do you live?’ ‘I live here, with my grandfather.’ ‘Is your grandfather as crazy as you?’ Dmitri tried to push him but saw the look on Larisa’s face and stopped. ‘You don’t believe me, do you? I’m telling you, I’m from the future. We have computers and Internet and Google,’ seeing their blank faces, Andrey fell quiet. ‘Well, if you have nowhere else to go, you should stay here, we have plenty of space,’ said Larisa. ‘Mama! He can’t stay here. I’m not sharing my room with him.’ Dmitri’s face turned red from anger. Larisa shook her head. ‘Dmitri, he’s got nowhere to go. It’s war. We have to help others as much as we can and then others will help us when we need it.’ She turned to Andrey. ‘Why don’t you wash your hands and join us for dinner?’ ‘Thank you! I am pretty hungry.’ As always at the mention of food, Andrey instantly felt better. Following Dmitri to the bathroom to wash his hands, he saw a big black poodle that was sleeping peacefully on an old matt in the corridor. He cheered up even more. ‘Cool! You have a dog! I love dogs. I Page 15
keep asking my grandfather for a puppy. We might get one soon.’ ‘His name is Mars. He’s my best friend,’ said Dmitri, stroking Mars who stretched, yawned and wagged his tail. Noticing Andrey, the dog came up to him and sniffed him. Andrey scratched him behind his ears, saying, ‘Good boy! Good boy, Mars!’ He smiled happily. *** After dinner, as Larisa was washing the dishes and the boys were drying them, a loud alarm sounded. Startled, Andrey looked at Larisa. ‘What is that noise?’ ‘That’s an air raid siren. Quick, we need to go into the shelter before the shelling starts.’ Andrey looked out the window with apprehension. ‘You mean, bombs?’ He found it hard to believe. ‘Two buildings got blown up on our street last week. It’s very dangerous to be out during shelling.’ On the stairs, Dmitri pulled him behind and said, ‘Want to go outside and watch the bombs?’ ‘But your mum said it was very dangerous to be out during shelling,’ protested Andrey. The distant sound of plane engines made the hairs on his neck raise in strange unfamiliar fear. ‘Come on, don’t be a chicken. All my friends go. It’s much more fun than sitting in the shelter.’ ‘Wouldn’t your mum get upset?’ asked Andrey. ‘She won’t even notice we are not there. It’s dark in the shelter.’ Not wanting to show how scared he was, Andrey followed Dmitri down a dark corridor towards the front doors of the building. ‘So where is your dad?’ ‘He’s at the front. Left six months ago.’ ‘Do you miss him?’ ‘Of course. But he’s fighting the Germans. We’ll beat them soon and he’ll be back!’ Dmitri sounded confident but his face looked worried. When they got to the front door, Andrey lifted his eyes and there in the Page 16
purple dusky sky he saw half a dozen black dots that were getting bigger and bigger. Three boys were hiding in the doorway, looking up expectantly. A skinny dark-haired boy pointed at the planes and said, sounding slightly disappointed, ‘There’s not going to be any bombs around here today. The planes are too far west.’ Dmitri nudged Andrey and pointed at the planes. ‘Look, that one over there is a Messerschmitt. It’s got four engines and has a maximum speed of 180 kilometres per hour!’ Andrey watched the planes release bombs that exploded in the distance. Feeling suddenly small and vulnerable, he shivered. Dmitri, on the other hand, didn’t look scared in the slightest. His whole face lit up whenever he spotted a new plane and he proceeded to list all its technical characteristics. ‘Imagine flying one of those planes! Not a German plane, of course. A Soviet plane. I wonder what it would feel like.’ ‘My grandfather is a pilot. He flew many different planes. He’s been everywhere,’ said Andrey, smiling at the thought of his grandfather. ‘That’s awesome! I want to be a pilot one day. I love planes,’ said Dmitri, his eyes unfocused as if he was lost in a dream. ‘One day you will.’ ‘How do you know?’ asked Dmitri, looking at Andrey with surprise. ‘I just do. I am from the future, remember?’ *** Early the next morning, Andrey woke up with a start. Opening one eye, he realised that someone was shaking him. It was Dmitri. Shutting his eyes again, he turned back to the wall and covered his head with a pillow. Dmitri Page 17
stopped shaking him and shouted in his ear instead, ‘Wake up! Wake up right now! Something happened.’ ‘Ouch, that was loud,’ grumbled Andrey, rubbing his ear. ‘What happened?’ ‘It’s Mars,’ Dmitri’s voice was trembling. ‘We went for a walk. I took my eyes off him for a moment and he disappeared. I can’t find him anywhere!’ ‘Don’t worry, we’ll find him!’ Trying not to panic, Andrey was out of bed and dressed in under a minute. ‘Right,’ said Dmitri, ‘you go left and I’ll go right. Look everywhere and keep calling him, he always comes when you call his name.’ The boys separated. Andrey turned around the corner and ran past the playground and the closed school. He kept calling Mars but there was no sign of him anywhere. He ran as fast as he could, searching every street. Finally, tired and dejected, he sat on a bench outside their building. His heart was beating fast from running and from worrying about Mars. Dmitri mentioned that many cats and dogs were being stolen for food, as food shortages meant that more and more people went hungry. The thought of something like that happening to Mars made him shudder. Trying not to imagine the worst, he got up, ready to search again, and that was when he noticed Mars. Three boys put a rope around his neck and were trying to pull him behind the garages. Mars was struggling. Not hesitating for a moment, Andrey ran to the dog’s rescue. ‘Let him go! He’s my dog,’ he screamed as loud as he could. The boys turned around and stared at him. They were much bigger and older than him but Andrey was determined to get Mars back. The taller of the boys, the one holding the rope in his hands, stepped towards Andrey, his hands clasped into fists threateningly. ‘He’s ours now. We found him. Get lost, shorty!’ But Andrey didn’t move. Another boy pushed him and said, ‘Didn’t you hear what he said? Move!’ Although not as tall as the other two boys, he looked like a bully, with a square chin and big shoulders. Andrey stepped to the side of the taller boy and grabbed the rope, trying to wrestle it from the boy’s hands. The boy wouldn’t let go. The other boys surrounded Andrey. He knew he had to act quickly. Grabbing the boy’s wrist, he twisted it, at the same time trapping his leg. The boy went flying to the ground, letting go of the rope. Andrey grabbed the rope quickly and, before the other boys could do anything, started running. Mars ran beside him. They ran into the house, up the stairs and into the flat. Andrey Page 18
collapsed on the floor, finally catching his breath. Dmitri came back fifteen minutes later. He looked upset. ‘I couldn’t find him anywhere...’ he started saying and, seeing Mars in the corridor, stopped abruptly. ‘Mars! You are back!’ He hugged Mars as tightly as he could, and Mars gave him a lick. ‘Where did you find him?’ he asked Andrey. ‘By the garages. Three boys were trying to steal him.’ ‘How did you manage to get him back?’ Dmitri looked impressed. ‘The judo lessons my grandfather took me to came in handy,’ explained Andrey. ‘Judo? Awesome! Can you teach me sometime?’ ‘Sure! It’s very easy to learn.’ ‘Thanks for saving Mars! If it wasn’t for you, who knows what would have happened to him.’ ‘That’s ok, I’m glad I could help. Mars is a great dog!’ ‘We can share him if you like. He can be your dog too!’ ‘Really? Cool! I’ve always wanted a dog.’ Happily, Andrey patted Mars on the head. *** That evening, Andrey retrieved his grandfather’s book from under the bed and began to read. Eagerly he read page after page, about the war and about the people’s lives. Fascinated, he couldn’t put the book down. He closed the book only when he read the last page. As soon as he did that, the walls shook and the blue light filled the room again. ‘Oh no,’ thought Andrey, ‘it’s happening again! I have to say goodbye to Dmitri.’ But there was no time. Two seconds later, he was back in the familiar surroundings of his own room. He ran to the lounge room. ‘Grandfather! Grandfather! I’m back!’ Grandfather was in his favourite armchair, watching a documentary on TV. Hugging his grandfather, Andrey said, ‘Grandfather, what happened after I left? Did we beat the Germans?’ Smiling, grandfather said, ‘Of course we did. Did you finish your assignment?’ Page 19
‘Not yet but I know what I’m going to write.’ Grandfather got up from his armchair. ‘I have a surprise for you. It’s in my room.’ When Andrey entered his grandfather’s bedroom, his face lit up with joy. There, on a layer of old newspapers, was the smallest puppy he’s ever seen. It was yellow and resembled a tiny ball of fur. ‘A dog!’ Andrey couldn’t believe his eyes. ‘Awesome!’ Picking up the puppy, he held him gently. ‘Thanks, grandfather! I will call him Mars!’ BIO: Svetlana Kortchik was born in a small Siberian town of Tomsk and, when she was 16, moved to Australia with her mum. She’s lived in London for the last five years, working as a computer programmer. Her passions are writing, travelling, history and martial arts.
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