other bits of blog

Friday, November 13, 2009

making an author out of 6

This will be the one and only post containing a story that yours truly didn't write. I feel alright about that, I guess, but my nieces, Sadie and Rosie, who are Alana's children, desperately begged me to post. But, I mean, how could you resist this?
I know. Adorable. You'll see more of Rosie later.
Anyway, Sadie is a little writer herself. Maybe she'll start her own blog someday...


Ghost Spy... so far
By Sadie C. with very little help from Maia V.
Chapter One
Footsteps
Thunder boomed and lightning flashed. I put my head under the covers. I looked at my clock. It was 12:00 at night. I tried to go to sleep but I couldn’t. I stayed awake thinking. I couldn’t get Mom, Dad or Stacey to be comforted.
I heard footsteps in the hall. I peeked behind the door. Nobody was there. I went to my bed thinking, who could have made those footsteps? I looked out the window. Nobody was there, either. The sun was starting to rise. Soon Dad would have to get up for work and Stacey and I would have to get up for school. Now it was 3:30 in the morning. The same question went over and over again in my mind, who could have made those footsteps?
It was now 4:30. 5:30. 6:30. Time to get up for school. I could hear Dad opening his and Mom’s door. And I could hear his footsteps in the hall. Unlike the footsteps I had heard last night.
All of a sudden I heard my Dad’s voice. “Juniper!”
“I’m coming Dad,” I said. I went into the bathroom and brushed my teeth. I walked to Stacey’s room and opened the door. I walked in and said, “It’s time to get up, Stace.”
She stirred. “I’m coming, Juniper,” she said.
I knew that she was lying. The thing I know is that the most important thing to Stacey is sleeping. But I think it’s plain dumb.
I put on a blue fancy short-sleeved dress and tied the sash at its waist. It was a hot day so I didn’t put on any socks. I put two rainbow strands of beads around my neck and two green butterfly earrings on my ears. Then I braided my hair into two ropes hanging next to my ears and walked down the hall to the stairs. I could smell Mom’s fresh bacon and eggs. Stacey was not there yet. I beat her to the kitchen.

She's six. Six years old. Could you write like that when you were six? I think she's really amazing. Also, I just want to note that the line in bold, my favorite line, was all written by Sadie. Just amazing. I'm dumbfounded.



I swear, she's going to become and author.


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