DUCKS CAN TALK

THE FAIRIES’ HOPE [EXCERPT]

Anya Buckley

Grade 5, Boise

Mimosa felt a breeze in the air. Instead of the usual sweet-smelling breeze, it was a dense, pulling breeze. Mimosa looked around the garden shed. She didn’t see anyone near. It must be a message from the queen. Hurriedly, she gathered up the rest of her lowers and rushed to Pixie Circle. As she passed Cofee Shack, she noticed the usual crowds weren’t there. Huh, business must be slow today, she thought. But as she got closer, she saw no one on the streets. By the time she got there, she saw every fairy she knew was there! She even saw the animal fairies on their butterlies. Uh-oh, what’s going on? Is something going to happen? she thought, fearing in her mind.

“Greetings, all fairies,” the queen said, her voice stopping Mimosa’s thought. “Now, most of you are probably wondering why we’re all here.” Most of the fairies nodded their heads in agreement. “Well, as you know, there is evil in this world, and now evil is threatening us!” she said to the crowd. The crowd gasped in return. “But, as some of you know, there is a hope, a savior, and the only way to save us is by our father up above. He has sent us a fairy to save us. Meet Graceful!” she said. Wow, a new fairy! This is so exciting, but who will be her guide? Mimosa thought excitedly. “Now, to make sure Graceful doesn’t cause any trouble around here, I need a fairy guide,” the queen continued, “I have chosen one of you to guide Graceful.” “Please don’t pick me, please don’t pick me!” Mimosa heard her friend Quaint Rose mutter under her breath. “Mimosa! You will be Graceful’s guide!” the queen exclaimed proudly. What, me?! Mimosa thought as she came up to the queen. Even though she had a smile on her face, inside she was worried. Her mind was going through lots of thoughts. I can’t take her! I have my garden! That’s too much pressure! A few minutes later, Graceful and Mimosa were quietly walking side-by-side down Main Street. “So,” Graceful started to say, “What do you do here?” “I sell lowers,” Mimosa quickly replied. As they started to get closer and closer, Mimosa started having a better perspective 65

on things. Well, once we get home, I can just set her up in the guest room, and she’ll be ine, she thought. As she looked ahead, the familiar sight came into view of her mushroom house and its red door. As Mimosa opened the door, she became relaxed. The usual smell of fresh-cut lowers illed the room. She let out a sigh of relief. “Um, so where can I sleep?” Graceful asked cheerfully, disturbing Mimosa’s moment of relaxation. “Upstairs, second door to the right!” she said. “Okay, tha—,” Graceful started to say as she accidentally knocked down the expensive vase the queen had given Mimosa. The vase shattered. That made Mimosa’s dog Butterscotch frightened, which made him run into the toadstool table and knock down the bread she was saving for dinner. “I’m so sorry!” Graceful exclaimed.

THE SECRETS OF THE FOREST [EXCERPT]

Rose Murphy Grade 6, Boise

I woke up to the sound of a duck quacking outside of my window. I slowly opened my eyes. I got up and trudged over to the window by my bed. Last night, I had forgotten to close it before I went to bed! I slammed the window shut and walked over to my closet to get dressed. Once I had gotten dressed, I headed down the creaky wood stairs and walked over to the kitchen. Since almost every day by the time I wake up my mom is already gone, I get to eat whatever I want for breakfast. Today, I decided on pancakes. I opened the black cupboard and got out some pancake mix. As I was grabbing the pancake mix, Rocky suddenly burst through his dog door from outside and started barking. It startled me so much I dropped the pancake mix onto the loor, covering Rocky and me. “Rocky!” I screamed in frustration. Rocky looked at me with sad eyes. Instead of forgiving him like I usually do when he does something bad, I grabbed my jacket from the hook by the door and headed into the forest. The crisp cold air hit me right as I stepped outside. I shivered, glad that I had my jacket on. I started walking slowly

through the forest, careful not to step on any lizards in my path. Ater I walked for a while, I realized I was in a part of the forest I had never been before. I stopped walking and observed my new surroundings. I was in an enormous green ield illed with many diferent types of lowers and plants. I was so in awe of what I was seeing that I did not hear someone start to talk to me. “Hello?! Are you ignoring me?” I stood as still as a deer in headlights trying to igure out who the unfamiliar voice belonged to. Suddenly, a green and brown duck lew right at me! “Hi, I’m Bob,” the duck said cheerfully. “DUCKS CAN TALK?” I said, not believing what I was

saying.

“Yep! Well, you are one of the only humans who can hear us,” Bob said. I just stared at him in shock. Neither of us said a word for a while. Finally, Bob explained a little more. “I know this is a bit startling, Rose, but you have to just listen to what I am about to say,” Bob said slowly. I just nodded my head, afraid if I spoke that Bob would stop talking. “Your father was one of the only humans who could talk to us.” Bob paused as if he was about to say something shocking. “Your father is not dead. He never died in a car crash.” Bob stared down at the ground like a sad puppy who did something bad.

I could not believe it! My father was alive!

RED PEPPER AND THE FAIRIES [EXCERPT]

Rebecca Piva Grade 6, Boise

Red Pepper was a small child with bright red hair. She lived in a small house with her parents and three dogs. She was 8 years old during the time I will tell you about. She normally dressed in denim shorts and a light blue T-shirt. Pepper’s three dogs were all Labradors. They were Rocky, the black lab; Chocolate Milk, the brown lab; and Golden Bell, the yellow lab. Pepper enjoyed playing with her dogs. Pepper also had found a baby barren-ground caribou and pleaded with her parents to keep it, until they inally accepted it, and named the creature Canyon Echo. Pepper spent much of her time with her animals, and 67

told them even her darkest secrets and fears. She told them how she was so very frightened that someone would break into the house at night. She told them how she didn’t use utensils at meal times when her parents weren’t looking. She told them she worried people would bully her and call her ugly, even though she knew everyone thought she was the prettiest girl in school, with her red curly hair and emerald green eyes. But the biggest secret of all was that she did not believe in fairies. She worried very much that someone would ind out. Now, that may not seem so bad to you, but not only were her parents oicial fairy researchers, but the whole town practically worshipped fairies. “I just don’t believe it. There’s no proof,” she’d tell Rocky, Chocolate Milk, Golden Bell, and Canyon Echo. Pepper awoke one morning to a small buzzing noise. She looked around her room, but saw nothing. She thought, with a glance at her clock, that she was just tired. She climbed out of bed and walked to the bathroom to get dressed. Pepper soon emerged from the bathroom wearing her old pair of jeans and a light pastel green T-shirt. She looked to the corner of the room where three dog beds and a sleeping bag were lined up. Pepper slept in that sleeping bag. She loved her pets so much that is what she did. Right above the beds was an open window with no screen and her caribou’s head sticking out of it. “Good morning, Canyon,” Pepper would say as she walked over to the hammock swing next to the cabinet in the other corner of the room. Ater about ive seconds she felt her stomach growl, and she walked to the door, pulled it open, and headed for the kitchen. The roaster had just come into view around the corner when Pepper stopped right where she was standing, forgetting all about her hunger. She saw, and this truly amazed her, what she thought to be a fairy. It was a small creature, with gray skin and blue wings. Pepper edged closer, careful not to scare it. She realized it was not, in fact, a fairy. Its face was contorted with anger, and its eyes shimmered iercely. “What are you?” Pepper asked, expecting no reply. “Me?” it said in a low, growling voice. It looked around the room and came to the conclusion Pepper was talking to it. “I’m a ummm . . .” Now, Pepper saw it. There was a tiny earpiece on the

creature. Someone was giving it orders. “I’m a fairy,” it inally said, its eyes twinkling proudly. “You are?” Pepper said, unsure whether to believe it or

not.

CUCUMBER [EXCERPT]

Daphne Pennington

Grade 6, Boise

Garden Cucumber Smith’s parents were very opinionated when it came to names. Her father, a forensic criminologist, wanted to name her Punctured Lung. Her mother was a cook and sold her fresh-grown produce at the farmers market. She had been leaning toward naming her Kale. Finally, when her parents still couldn’t choose a name, they just agreed to name her ater the fruit they both loved: organic, freshly farm-grown garden cucumbers. People just called her Cue, though Cue didn’t know why. What was wrong with Garden Cucumber? She was 13 years old and loved painting, grass, murder mysteries, and going to the farmers market on Saturdays with her mother. Her father was very proud of her murder mystery knowledge and hoped she would continue the family legacy as a forensic criminologist. Whereas her mother was very, very proud of her skills in the kitchen, and urged her to go start a bed-andbreakfast. Cue herself, though? Mostly, she just wanted to make a line of grass-scented perfume. But she didn’t think that paid very well. If grass-scented perfume didn’t go well, she would become a screenwriter and write Grass the Musical: The Musical, The Series. She knew that would work out. But just in case it didn’t, she’d write murder mystery novels, like Death by Grass. Cue’s mother said that a grass-based career wasn’t good enough for someone with her potential. Cue had no response.

Lana Aoulaiche Grade 6, Boise

There was a strange Knife Dark Lord that hid a dangerous knife and a fake plastic knife. There was Princess Beatrice otherwise known as Trix. She’s British. Trix’s mother was cursed and fell in love with a bad guy. The Dark Lord is her father secretly. The Dark Lord can control knives in any way. Trix needed to save her mother. In order to save her mom, she needed to ind the Knife Dark Lord. So the journey began. She got a sword, food, and a ton of water. Beatrice stole a horse from a random farm. She got to the irst obstacle course: a pack of wolves. Trix got of the horse and she started talking and ighting with the alpha. Suddenly they stopped. “You are special and may pass,” said the alpha. Trix smiled. “Thank you.” She got back on her horse and kept climbing the mountain. On top of the mountain, Trix and her horse Stella got tired. They found a cave and rested. The next day at 6 p.m. they climbed down the mountain. Now there’s a lake. Full of alligators. The alligators all stared. Slowly they started getting out of the lake. Trix knew to run zigzag when alligators are charging. They all began running. Trix made Stella zigzag. Ater 10 minutes they lost them. Soon ater she found the Dark Lord, her father. Right when they made eye contact they started ighting. Trix swung her sword. She missed. The Dark Lord cut of her inger. Trix and Stella magically lew toward the Dark Lord and cut his mask of. His power transferred to Trix. She lew home on Stella and made her family so proud she became queen.

Lauren Wontorcik Grade 6, Boise

The way to life is a meaning. There is maybe a reason we souls are here. I was chosen to the human world as 1495g and 3243c told me that I was switched. I loated away from the human portal and went 10 years now. I have not drank blood. In three years I have not had blood. My name is Maria in the vampire world. I can’t have blood because there are no humans.

THE SLENDERMAN

Joss Jones Grade 6, Boise

The man in a black suit and a lengthy torso was patiently waiting. I asked him in a serious manner, “Why are you always standing here?” In a sudden movement, he jerked his head towards me with an obscure pace. Then, abruptly, he speeds away. My sister, confused as well, looked up with a puzzled face and said, “Is he okay?” I shrugged and said, “I don’t know. He’s probably just another lonely weirdo.” As we watched him walk away, he tripped and fell over his shoelaces. My sister and I accidentally broke out in laughter and began calling him names like, ‘Longester,’ ‘Bozo,’ and ‘Grandpa.’ Ater we got a hold of ourselves we approached him again, ofering our hands for support. His light blue eyes communicated panic, as they searched the surrounding subway area. “No, please hel–” BANG BANG! I fell down and tried to help him stay conscious. “Are you dead? Please talk to me! SIR?!” His body squirms on the loor, ighting for life. With the mission incomplete, the murderer had to inish the job. He emerged from the subway shadows, aimed the gun downwards and said, “Now he’s dead.”

Malakai Wickstrom Grade 6, Boise

I was going home when a storm struck. So I stopped in a church. Ater a few hours a haunting began. So I called the ghost busters and ater a few minutes they were here. They said that no ghosts were here. So I begged them to take me with them. So they shot their ghost-guns at me. I was in the gun when I heard them say, “So I was ighting a ghost when I shot him, and now he’s dead.”

JUST A DREAM

Betty Clark Grade 6, Boise

A long time ago, there was a little girl they called Mary. People said she was ugly. She had brown eyes with just a hint of gold and black curly hair with dreadlocks. They called her the devil child. Well, she was quite shy but friendly. Mary’s father worked in a barber shop. They called him Phillip. His job was full time, so Mary went to school. The children weren’t kind at all. They teased Mary. Mary saw past that. One aternoon Mary came home with a bucket tipped on her head. “Who dumped your head in this time?” Phillip asked her while chugging his booze. Mary dropped the bucket of her head. “None of your concern, Father.” Phillip glanced at Mary with a frown. “I’m going to wash up,” Mary said. She turned on the sink and soaked her face with a wet towel. “Ahh!” She heard screams from a distance: “Fire!” and “The devil child is showing her true form!” The police ran into her room and lung her onto the mirror. Mary didn’t show any sign of fear. “I guess it’s really the end. Please let me perish in peace.” Phillip ran toward Mary and shoved the police to the side, but he was too late.

Maya Wogan Grade 6, Boise

Oakley is a 500-year-old oak tree, the oldest tree in the park. “Good morning,” Sally says. Sally is the mother of three saplings. She’s 450 years old, one of the oldest. “Good morning Sally,” said Oakley. “How are the saplings?” “Ugh. Dakota couldn’t sleep and kept me up until she passed out. And they were playing their favorite game: arguing. I was up until 4 a.m.,” she says with a groan. “Oof, that’s rough,” says Oakley. ***** A class comes to visit. “Children,” says the teacher, “Oakley is the oldest tree in the park.” Many “Oohhs” and “ahhs” followed. One of the children walked up to him. “Hello, I’m Elaine.” He wanted to say hello back, but it wouldn’t work. Humans don’t understand trees. From that day on Elaine always came to see Oakley. He had a friend. She made friends with every tree in the park.

SIGHTSEEING

Rehema Sadiki Grade 5, Boise

The branches of a nearby tree sprawl out into a leafy canopy. Cars hurtle by, fading in and out of sight. Where are they going in such a hurry? The thick scent of lavender hangs silently in the humid air. Grass bleeds across this all but silent landscape. Looking closely, I see tiny bugs scurry across the thicket of trembling blades. A wasp swoops down, a graceful descent to the colored mats we sit upon. The trickle of the creek, it is a sot and ambient sound, so soothing compared to the ruckus of the road. The roaring of a truck is still heard in the distance. Clear water lows in, while roots and twigs reach forth to feel the cool and refreshing nourishment from the water. A miniscule spider dances across the sand, far from danger. A female mallard glides peacefully afar. The faint scent of muck lows like the creek.

Lucca Smith Grade 5, Boise

Lucca. It’s a movie, it’s a place, and it’s the name of a 10-year-old girl. My name came from a restaurant my parents dined at together before they had me. My name reminds me of a light spring color with ields of grass on a not so sunny day. My name is exotic, yet the same calling sound yelling: “Lucca, get up and eat breakfast!” or “Lucca, get ready!” I would change my name to “Bo” if I had to. It’s my middle name. Not an unconident name like Lucca. It would be a ierce, bold, orange name! Though “Lucca” suits me. My pale skin, with contrasting freckles and my curious personality. I like my name. It’s like me sitting on a plump white cloud reading a book. I like my name. Once again, it suits me.

Betty Clark Grade 6, Boise

As Komotiia walked along a path, she gazed at her feet, as if she were unconscious or in a trance, not caring where her legs took her. Komotiia heard crying from a distance. She tried to follow the sound but couldn’t. Komotiia stopped at a rose garden and kneeled down in front of a rose bush to pick one. Her hand bled from the thorns sinking into her skin. She then walked out of the garden, moving slowly toward a tombstone that read:

Komotiia A. Forene Cause of death unknown Age: 23

Soon tears fell from her eyes to her cheeks, leaving water drops on the tombstone. She dropped the rose on the side. Komotiia fell to her knees and clenched her ist as she faded into the lower, the grass, and nature.