YOUNG WORDSMITHS

write4joy

YOUNG WORDSMITHS Young Wordsmiths is the online magazine of Lekha Writing Center. It is dedicated to publishing writing BY and FOR children. FOUNDER: Jyoti Yelagalawadi

Text Copyright by Lekha students as noted in the Lekha Anthologies published by Lekha Publishers LLC. Material in this magazine is drawn from student writings’ from Lekha Anthologies published over the years as well as from current student writings’ from Lekha Writing Center classes and camps. Images Used are Copyright Free and Royalty Free. Fonts Used: Segoe Print If you believe that you or your child has a story that children would enjoy, we would love to take a look at it. Send your submissions to the following email address: submissions@lekhaink.com

FOUNDER’S NOTE Dear friends of Lekha, Wish you a very Happy 2019. May this year bring you joy and happiness. I hope your year is filled with lots of reading and writing. I am very proud to present the 4th issue of Young Wordsmith. It is because of the support of all of you that Young Wordsmith is becoming so popular. This issue brings to you the finest works of our past students, particularly those who were close to me. As I read through the selection, my mind wandered down memory lane and it only made me more aware of why the classes and camps offered through Lekha Writing Centers are so important. Young Wordsmith as a magazine, is an extension of all the wonderful things that our students have imagined and created. The year 2018 was a momentous year for Lekha. Not only did we continue with our classes and our Publishing house, but we also brought the dream of write4joy App to fruition. Young Wordsmiths ezine was another way to reach out to all of you in addition to our anthologies. We look forward to more of you participating in future writing contests. Please continue to submit your stories, plays, poems and essays and anything that you would like to be published through the Young Wordsmiths magazine. Let’s author and publish all that we love to write. Love, Jyoti Yelagalawadi. Founder of Lekha Ink, Corp.

YOUNG WORDSMITH is a quarterly magazine. 4th issue of 2018. EDITOR: Radhika Rajesh Raikar

EDITOR’S NOTE Dear Wordsmiths and readers, Words are molded like clay To write poetry or play They can write a scary suspenseful mystery and a satirical pencil’s autobiographical history. They love writing fantastical pieces of fiction.

All powerful narratives are written with conviction Lekha’s Young Wordsmiths write4joy Hope you Enjoy!!! Radhika Rajesh Raikar

Inside this issue….. Day Play

...Page 6-8

The Heart of the Green

….Page 9

The White Cockatoo

…Page 10-13

The Bullying Shark

...Page 14-19

The Bunny

...Page 20

Ode to Ice Cream

…Page 21

Dead Silence

...Page 22

Leaves

...Page 23

Cast off at Sea

…Page 24-25

My Guma

...Page 26-29

The Colorless Opals

...Page 30-37

Life as a Pencil

...Page 38

How to avoid Writer’s Block

….Page 39

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday Day Play By Camille Boiteux

SETTING: INTERIOR OF COTTAGE-DAY

NARRATOR: Once upon a lime there lived a mother named Jane. She had five children: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. One day, all her children had an odd request. They all wanted food that started with the first letter of their names!

MONDAY : Mom, can I have mashed potatoes? TUESDAY: Mom, can I have tacos? WEDNESDAY: Mom, can I have watermelon? THURSDA Y: Mom, can I have treats? FRIDAY: Mom, can I have fish?

NARRATOR: Jane did not have all that food, so she went to shop at Wal-Mart, but before she shopped, she told her kids, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, a simple message. JANE: Kids, I want you to make sure not to let anyone in. I'm going to lock the door.

NARRATOR: So Jane locked the door and went out shopping. A knock comes at the door, it's an old lady. OLD LADY : Let me in Children! MONDAY: Our mommy Jane told us not to open the door.

NARRATOR: The Old Lady pulled out a magic wand and tied a gold ribbon to the door handle. TUESDAY: Gold! OLD LADY: You'll have it if you let me in.

NARRATOR: The children let her in, but it turned out it wasn't real gold. Next the Old Lady, who it turns out was a witch, turned the children into the food they had wanted to have. Then the witch put all the food in a picnic basket. Jane came back and a dove who had been watching everything happen flew to her and told her everything. So Jane went to the old witch's house and knocked on the door. OLD LADY: Who is it? JANE: It's Jane. OLD LADY: Your socks are dirty. JANE: Then I will take them off. OLD LADY: Your feet are dirty. JANE: Then I will chop my feet off.

NARRATOR : Jane, of course, did not want to chop off her feet, so she sneakily tucked them behind her legs. The witch however, thought Jane had chopped them off, so she let Jane in. JANE: Where are my children?? OLD LADY: The food here is your children, you just have to guess which food is which kid. JANE: The mashed potatoes are Monday, the tacos are Tuesday, the watermelon is Wednesday, the treats are Thursday and the fish is Friday!

NARRATOR: Just then, all the food turned back into children and the witch started to shrink into a tiny pebble until she disappeared. And the children got what they wanted and they all lived happily ever after.

THE END

The Heart of the Green By Pavel Doglov The Heart of Green teems with Life In its veins there is no strife The animals of the ancient wood Have leaped and laughed and long have stood The legend is bear foretold

Not one of power or of gold The rungs by which a being holds These rungs are not of plastic molds This being is one of life Not able to wield a horn or knife Against its own

The poetry of the Earth is never dead. John Keats, English poet.

The White Cockatoo By Anthony Vu

The snow white cockatoo strode up to the aged piano and flexed her feathers. Then she started to play. From the very start, the audience was in a state of total rapture. The sweet melodies flowed from under her feathers and out into the open, leaving the audience in awe. Her fingers practically flew across the keys, hammering them at the loud parts and barely pressing them at the soft parts. The piece the cockatoo was playing was called "Rhapsody in Blue." She was so intent on her music that she did not notice anything else. The bird's chest swelled up and down in beat to the music as she poured out her heart. At the end of the performance, a shout of, "Encore! Encore!" went up. The cockatoo, whose name was Jana, bowed many times before exiting the stage. "Truly, she is a prodigy," one audience member remarked.

When Jana retired to her living quarters, she flopped down onto her bed, exhausted. She was so proud of herself for having completed yet another successful performance, but practicing was so tiring. Her living quarters were very small and plain, but she had all she needed. Jana was fed twice a day by her owners, and she had a water bottle in her cage that was changed every day. Her cage was cleaned out every Wednesday and she sometimes got unexpected special treats.

Just then, her cage door squeaked open and in came her best friend, a small mouse named Mortimer. They had become best friends when Jana saved Mortimer from a cat. "Jana, you were great out there!" Mortimer gushed. "You did even better than your last performance. The audience couldn't get enough of you!" A small smile flashed across Jana's face. "Thanks for telling me that, Mortimer," she replied, "but I think it's time for a temporary retirement from being a musician. Don't get me wrong, I love playing the piano. But I think that I need a break from practicing and performances to just be a normal cockatoo instead. Like hanging out with my friends and maybe doing some recreational sports." Mortimer gaped and with astonishment, "But... but... but..."

"Mortimer," Jana sighed, "You've got to respect my decision. I will eventually go back to playing the piano. Just consider it a short break. And we can throw a party for my temporary retirement. All the household animals could come. We can have cake and drinks and games..." "And all different types of foods!" Mortimer added, now excited by the prospect of having a party. "We should start planning right now! I’ll tell everybody about the party and ask them to bring one entree for the buffet!" He ran out of the room in a flash.

Mortimer can get overexcited sometimes, Jana thought, but he really is a nice mouse. She should prepare for the party now. It should be outside in her master's backyard, because there was lots of room back there. She decided to make some salad and some dressing, getting the supplies from the enormous refrigerator her masters had. She recruited the help of some of her cockatoo friends to help her lift the checkered picnic blanket and fly it outside. It took all of her strength to lift it off the ground and fly it outside, and some of her friends kept dropping it. They finally were able to get it outside but by that time it was dark, and Jana was spent. She went back to her cage to try to get some rest.

But at midnight that night, Jana was still up, wondering if she had made the right choice by temporarily retiring. She wasn't so sure of herself after all, now. But anyway, it was too late now to take back her decision. Jana tossed and turned in her bed, unable to get comfortable. Something was bothering her, but she couldn't quite put her feather on it. Eventually she got so tired that she fell asleep.

The next day all the animals were buzzing with excitement as they made preparations for the picnic. An armadillo was baking a cake, a parrot was making vegetarian sandwiches, and a lot more animals pitched in to help make the picnic a success. The only problem was that all of the animals had gotten their supplies from the refrigerator, and Jana was worried that her master would notice that so much food was missing. Meanwhile, Jana was still trying to figure out what had been bothering her. "1 know that my decision isn't bothering me, so what is?" she asked herself. "Maybe I've sensed something is wrong with my master and his family. They've seemed so... tense, yet excited." Jana felt very frustrated that she couldn't put her claw on it. But, now was no time to get frustrated. The picnic was ready, and since she was the guest of honor, so she had to be there first. Jana opened the latch to her cage and stretched her wings. One of the first things she had learned when she had just got to this household was how to get out of her cage. Ofcourse, she didn't do it in sight of her master. Jana stretched out her wings and prepared to fly. She jumped out the door and soared into the air. It always was an exciting sensation to fly, to be able to soar above the clouds. It exhilarated her so much that after flights she always was in a good mood. She could see all the other animals filing out of the back door and onto the red and white checkered picnic cloth. Jana felt so touched that this was all for her. One tiny mouse on the ground happened to look and shouted, "Look, its Jana!" That was probably Mortimer. Everyone stopped walking and looked up as the gold­beaked, white-feathered cockatoo they knew so well soared majestically past them and out the door.

Let no one cage who you were born to be.

The Bullying Shark Nico Xepoleas Chapter 1: The Race One day, two African Dwarf frogs were swimming in the sea. Their names were Tommy and Fred. They both were brownish-green with black spots. Fred was a bit chubby, but Tommy was skinny and little. They were brothers. The sea where they lived was clear blue and really warm. The water smelled salty and there were lots of sea animals. While they were swimming, they saw a gigantic shark coming towards them.

"Why are you frogs here?" he asked.

"We're just trying to find a new home. The swamp was much too cold for us,� said Tommy. The shark chuckled mockingly. "You're so little, I could eat you with one bite� he teased Tommy. "Hey, don't call my brother little!" Fred shouted to the shark. "You're so fat!" the shark mocked him. "Leave us alone, bully!" Tommy squeaked in terror. Then the shark's eyes turned pure red. "That's it! YOU ASKED FOR IT!" he roared, swimming as fast as a cheetah towards them! They screamed and swam as fast as they could. He was gaining on them.

We're dead, Freddy thought. Then they swam into a little hole in the rocks. The shark slammed his face into the rocks. He roared so loud they thought their ears would pop off. "I'LL GET YOU FROGS! THERE IS NOTHING THAT GETS IN THE WAY OF DUKE!" Then he swam off.

"Are you okay?" a couple of fish asked. One of the fish was black and brown and the other was very pretty.

"If you mean 'scared to death', then, yes!" said Tommy. "We're fine, he means," Fred said, looking at his brother. "We're going to join the E.B.C." said the pretty fish. "E.B.C.?" Fred asked "End Bullying Club," said the black and brown fish. What are your names? We're Fred and Tommy," said Fred. "We're Lizzy and Chase," said the pretty fish. "Can we join the club with you?" asked Tommy. "Of course," said Lizzy. And off they went.

Chapter 2: E.B.C. They swam into a cave, but a guard-fish stopped them. "Halt! You are trespassing into the E.B.C.!" he declared. "We just want to join," said Chase. "Is there a problem, here?" A big black fish swam out of the shadows. "They say they want to join. Do you accept?" asked the guard-fish. "No, I do not accept!" snapped the black fish. "Why?" asked Tommy. "Because you're far too weak! I heard that shark fight all the way from here!" said the black fish. "Oh..."sighed Fred. Lizzy glared at him. "Fine! But we'll make a club much better than yours!" Lizzy shouted as swam away.

Chapter 3: Our Own Club "What should we call the club?" asked Chase. "Hmmm...Revenge On the Shark Club?" Lizzy suggested. "Sure, as long as we have enough people," said Fred. "Let's split up and find people. Then let's meet by the little hole-where we met earlier," said Tommy. "Okay Tommy, you go north. Chase, you go west. Fred, you go south, and I'll go east. Ready? Go!" And they set off. Fred swam south. It looked kind of scary...it was all dark there, with only a few fish and the plants all droopy and rotten. "Yuck!" he muttered to himself. He went into the middle of the dump and shouted, "Join the R.O.T.S. Club!" And he kept on shouting until... "The what-Club?" a very deep voice growled. He decided to tell the voice what it meant or he would be dead frog-meat. "Revenge on the Shark club..." he said. He came out from the shadows and he gasped. It was Duke! He laughed evilly. "Not so funny when you mess with me!" he growled.

Chapter 4: Rescuing Fred They were all back at the hole except for Fred. Tommy started to get worried. "Maybe we should all look for him”, declared Tommy. "I agree," said Lizzy. "Chase, you stay with the club members. We're going to look for Fred." "Where did he go, again?" asked Tommy. "Umm, let's try south," said Lizzy. Okay," said Tommy, as they began to swim south, gasping at how scary it was. 'What happened here?" Lizzy whispered. "I bet it was Duke!" said Tommy. "Oh no! Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" "Yes," Tommy almost cried. They swam really fast trying to find him. They swam into a gigantic cave full of holes. It was very dark until they entered a pen cavern. Cages full of sea-animals were everywhere. There Duke was ­putting Fred in a cage…

Tommy was about to explode with fury until he saw a net and thought of a plan.

"I have a plan," Tommy whispered. "If we could make a trap with that we could lure him into it and free everyone." "Tommy, you're the best," whispered Lizzy. "I'll go get the others for help. Try making the trap." "Okay," said Tommy as Lizzy swam off. Tommy grabbed the net and put it on the ceiling of the cave. He found a rope and attached it to the net. "Perfect," Tommy whispered to himself. "Mmm...that tasted good!" Tommy heard Duke roar. "Hurry Lizzy, hurry," Tommy muttered to himself.

Chapter 5: Trapping Duke Tommy saw Lizzy swim in his direction. "We need help. I'll explain on the way-just follow me and bring the members!" shouted Lizzy. The members followed Tommy and Lizzy. "What's going on?" he asked Lizzy. Lizzy explained everything. "Oh, no," said Chase. "Don't worry. Tommy made a trap," said Lizzy. Tommy gasped at how scary this place looked. "Come on!" shouted Lizzy. "Sorry." Tommy followed her. They swam into the cave where Duke was. "Okay, so we have to lure Duke into the trap. Just follow Lizzy's lead," whispered Tommy. They followed her, swimming into a gigantic cave... with Duke in it. "Hey Duke!" shouted Lizzy. Duke turned his head. He was ready to explode. "Come and get us!" she shouted. Duke roared and they all swam really fast toward the trap. The race was on! Duke swam as fast as lightning toward them. They finally swam past the trap. A great roar came from Duke. "Now!" Lizzy screamed, and the trap fell right onto him.

"Go! Go! Go!" shouted to the rest of the bunch. Tommy led them toward the gigantic room. Everyone let the other sea­animals out. "Thanks!" said Fred.

All of the sea animals swam away.

"Fred!" a voice shouted at the entrance. Tommy swam out and hugged Fred. "I was worried to death," Tommy said. "Guys, what about Duke?" They all looked at each other and swam quickly toward the trap.

"Do you promise never to bully again?" asked Lizzy. A growl rumbled in his throat. "Fine. Just let me out," he replied.

They did. And from that day, no one has ever been bullied under the sea again.

Courage is fire, and bullying is smoke Benjamin Disraeli, former British Prime Minister

The Bunny Story and Illustrations Olivia Burd, Age 6

Ode to Ice Cream By Ariana Van Scherrenberg, Age 11 Oh, Ice Cream. Even though you are ice cold, you put my soul on fire. You make my heart as hot as the Sun You give me enough passion to perform Beethoven’s ninth symphony by myself When you land in my stomach, bite by bite, My stomach throws a huge party in your honor Oh, Ice cream how I love you This is my ode to thee.

Poetry is when emotion has found its thoughts and the thought has found words -Robert Frost, American poet.

Dead Silence by Grace , Age One black Begins to She puts the bow her pink and black She's been wearing it ever since her father Some people admire her While others made fun of her for Every she would put it her and sigh from the aching her Her silence school was Since she had many reasons to But she knew that if she made one her bow wouldn't be a title to keep.

Leaves By Srivarsha Gulukota, Age 10 This winter day The wind has blown And the leaves are dancing now But, later they get tired And fall to the ground All the other leaves Come to the funeral of the leaf that fell down

It is very important for any writer to grab the reader’s attention immediately. A skillfully written first sentence and first paragraph can be an effective hook when it speaks to the readers with a sense of urgency. The hook can be designed to pique the reader’s curiosity and generate suspense. Sensory details can enliven the text and carefully paced drama can encourage a youngster to continue reading.

Cast off at Sea Mia Nicolacoudis Darkness. All I could see was darkness above the surface and below it. Below me was a black pit of doom. Strange creatures lurked below the water. Ocean and sky looked like an endless field of cloth with sparkles and one huge white button. You couldn't tell them apart like you could during the day. I felt small, like a grain of sand on a beach, or like a single star in a whole galaxy. I felt lonely, dreary and fatigued. I wanted to float on the water and fall asleep, but I knew that I had to stay awake or I would surely sink. I felt like I was floating in midair with my feet unable to touch the ground. Oh, how I longed for land. It all started on a Sunday when I had gone to Santa Cruz. I was having a great time until I got into the water. About an hour into my swim, something strange started to happen. As I was swimming, I felt as if something was sucking me out into the ocean. I could see the shore quickly moving farther and farther away from me.

At that moment, I knew what was happening: I was caught in a riptide. I remembered my grandmother telling me that if I ever was in a situation like this, not to fight against the tide and to let it take me out as far as it would before it wore out. It took me out miles and miles before it stopped. So that is how it all started. I was stuck in the middle of the ocean with no clue as to what direction to swim, or what to do. My mouth was so dry; I would've done anything for a glass of water. I felt tortured because an ocean full of water surrounded me, but it was poisonous to drink.

I was so scared that no one would ever find me, or that I would starve, or become dehydrated.

Not knowing what to do, I started swimming in the direction the swells were coming from. Eventually I saw land. The only problem was that the beach appeared to be three miles away. I started yelling for help in the hope that a boat would hear me. No luck. An hour later, I saw my chance. Out on the horizon, a blue sailboat was heading towards me. "Help! Help!" I screamed. My raspy voice frightened me. The boat was now only a few yards away. It had bleach-white sails and the boat turquoise. On one of the sides was the name of the boat painted in white. It read: "The Aquamarine."

"Help!" By that point I was yelling at the top of my lungs. I couldn't afford to have this boat miss me. "Help! Someone please, help me!" A couple of seconds later, a life ring shot out from behind the railing. "Hurry! Grab on!" a voice yelled out to me. I grabbed on and someone helped me up. I climbed over the railing. It felt weird to be walking again. "Would you like a towel, miss?" I looked up.

There was a man standing before me. He had dark shaggy hair, bright-blue eyes, and was almost a footer than me. "Urn, sure," I said. "Here, why don't you come with me?" I followed him to a staircase. My knees were trembling going down the stairs. I stopped. The man turned to look me. "Well, are you coming or not?" he asked. "Oh yeah, sorry."

When we got to the bottom, he handed me a towel and we went back upstairs. "Do you want anything to drink or eat?" "Sure!" "I'll be right back. Why don't you take a seat?" After a couple of minutes, he came back with two bottles of Coca-Cola and took a seat across from me. "Hi, I'm Jason." "Nice to meet you, Jason. I'm Alex."

Dramatic anecdotal narrative can shape into a very interesting presentation, where the writer can bring the subject to life for young readers.

My Guma Emily Cameron

The scorching sun glared overhead as the sleek black car pulled up beside a rusted gate. Rumbling to a halt, the car door opened and several people clambered out, including my grandmother, my mother, and myself. Shielding my eyes from the burning sun, I peered up at the house in front of me, surrounded by a gate with

spikes at the tips. We were visiting our sick Guma, who was my great aunt from my mother's side of the family. I had never seen my Guma before, but I was excited to meet her. An elderly woman came to the door, the guarded caution in her dark eyes switching to glowing warmth when she recognized us. I stared at her in confusion, accepting the gentle embrace she welcomed us with. Was she Guma? "Come in, come in," the old woman invited, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

Flinging off my flip-flops, I stepped inside the house, sighing with relief at the welcome sensation of air conditioning. Suddenly, I drew back in sheer horror, letting out a terrified gasp when I saw her. In the middle of the room, a skeleton lay on a plastic chair. No, it wasn't a skeleton-it was alive, but barely. Papery white skin clung to her faltering frame, and I could see every single bone outlined sharply against her flesh. Her eyes were sunken deep into her face, and they were a pale gray color, all the life drained from their depths. I could see

her heartbeat throbbing in her neck, rapid and irregular. A choking noise gurgled in her throat with each painful breath, and her chest heaved, fighting for air. She was on the brink of death, barely clinging to life. The lady who answered the door wasn't Guma-this was Guma. My mother rushed forward, tears spilling from her anxious eyes as she grasped the figure's bony hand in hers. I didn't dare get close to Guma, afraid that I would inherit some sort of contagious deadly disease from her. But I watched in fascination and bewilderment as my mother and my grandmother crowded around Guma, murmuring words of comfort and pity. I could see Guma's jaws moving ever so slightly, as if she were trying to say something, but she was so weak she couldn't get the words out. She stared blankly at the wall, hardly acknowledging my mother and my grandmother as they comforted her like she was a newborn baby, stroking her hair and gripping her hand. "Mom," I whispered, stepping forward to shake my mother's shoulder. She turned to me, her eyes swollen and red, her face streaked with dried tears. "Mom, why is Guma so important to your family?" My mother gazed thoughtfully at me for a heartbeat, then she settled down onto the couch. I plunked down beside her and looked at her expectantly. She stared into the distance for a while, her dark eyes brimming with memories, until finally she turned her sorrowful gaze to me.

"Let me tell you who I remember Guma as," she began. "She wasn't always like this, you know." She paused, weighing her next words carefully, before launching into her story. "When I was younger, my Guma was very close to me. My mom had four children to take care of and was always very busy, so my Guma took part in the role of looking after us. I remember how at night whenever I couldn't sleep and my mother was too exhausted to tend to me, my Guma would come inside my room and comfort me, rocking me to sleep. "My Guma will never forget the time when I was a misbehaving baby, and once I became so furious that, in the heat of my anger, I grabbed her dangling earring and pulled, hard. The force of my yank ripped a line down her ear, and the wound never healed properly. To this day, there is still a scar cutting down her earlobe.� "As a child, my Guma would always tell me about her pitiful life, complaining about how her mother had never sent her to school and how nobody ever cared for her. I grew so sick of hearing her complaints that I begged her to be quiet, but she always repeated herself. Now, I realize that all she wanted was for somebody to listen to her life and truly understand her.� "Think about the places outside your home you go to in life: the mall, the beach,

swimming pool, a hotel, school. My Guma has never been to these things. In fact, she has hardly ever been outside her own house. When she was a child, she didn't go to school, so therefore she couldn't write her own name, count, solve math problems, or even know her own age. Another major thing that was an obstacle in her life was that she couldn't ride in a car. Whenever she did, she would always complain about the 'smell' or the rocking movement of the car and felt like she was going to throw up. Because of her incapability to ride in a car, she couldn't go places very far from her own home.

"When she was younger, she was always very physically weak. When she walked, her feet shuffled across the ground in a slow, awkward movement, as if each step was painful. She always was lacking in strength. But she still helped out around the house. Every day she hung the clothes outside to dry, swept the floor, and did several daily chores to keep herself busy. Although she didn't do a perfect job because of her disabilities, she played an important role in keeping the house clean. "Once, I brought my Guma several books and tried to teach her how to read them. She actually did quite well. She was a fast learner and I taught her some basic words before I grew bored of teaching her." My mother hesitated for a heartbeat and sighed softly. Her eyes flaring with sorrowful memories and pity for the painful life Guma had been through. She glanced at the faltering frame sprawled across the chair, tears streaking her face. "Well, that's really all have to say," she concluded. "Guma has lived such a hard life, and it's sad to see her die, knowing what she has been put through. It's a tragic end to a tragic life." I stared at Guma for a moment, then turned my gaze back to my mother, finally understanding the unbreakable connection that bound them together. "Thanks for telling me, Mom," I said. "I wish all the best for my Guma, and I hope she lives a happy afterlife."

The Colorless Opals by Deepa Shridhar, Age 9

Zenni Stones wasn't an ordinary seventeen year old. It wasn't that she was rude or anything, but she was magical. It was not that she had lights flashing around her, or that she wore a black magic cape around her. It was just that she was magical!

Though, this is not a time to think of that because: Today, she was late for class! And she was so stressed out. She had a pop quiz today! She rushed to class and quickly sat down at her desk. Then she immediately looked through her backpack for a pencil. And then started to circle random answers and turned it in to her teacher Mr. Harris. “Are you sure you checked this?" he asked. “Huh?'' Zenni said, stumbling over her foot. “I said, are you sure you checked this." Mr. Harris said.

"Umn, could you check it for me?" she asked. "Alright, Hmmm, let’s see... impressive, Zenni, all of this seems to be correct!" Mr. Harris said with a smile. "Great!" Zenni said and ran off. Now that the fifty-sixth day of school was over (according to Zenni's calculation.) she ran to the school bus and after about fifteen minutes, she was home. "Thanks." Zenni said to the bus driver. "I'm here to help." He said.

Zenni jumped of the bus and ran to her doorstep and shouting, " Mom I'm home," ''Hi, Zenni." Zenni's mom continuing,'' Zenni, do you remember when you were five?". "Yeah, I remember lots of times when I was five." "Remember when I told you that you would have a mission someday-about bringing me colorless opals." "But mom, there's no such thing!" Zenni whined. "If there is, where are they?" Zenni asked, a little more calmly. "How do I get them for you?" "On your own. You will get the courage on your way there." "How?" Zenni asked. "Zanfu will give it to you." replied Zenni's mom. "Mom, I have to ask, who's Zanfu?" she asked "Zanfu, my child is a person who magical people worship." "Worship?" Zenni asked in horror. "I thought we worship Jesus." Zenni said. "Enough about that, you shouldn't tell anybody about this," Zenni's mom said. " it would be a disgrace to the magical world." Zenni's mom said. "Alright." Zenni said.

"Come on let's go, the car is ready and your bags are packed. You can eat in the car". "What!" exclaimed a surprised Zenni But her mother dragged her as Zenni kept wondering at the change in her mother. Through the Sies Mountains, Zenni kept on looking for her strength from Zanfu. Relax Zenni there is not one reason for you to be nervous, what is so scary about hiking and getting my mom a couple stones ha? Tell me... Zenni kept on murmuring. " Zenni, are you alright?" Zenni's mom said. Looking at her. "Yeah, I'm alright." Zenni said. "O.K. we are here." said her mom as she applied the brakes on her car. "Already!" Zenni said in horror. I'm toast! Zenni thought. ''Get down and make sure you don't forget anything." Zenni started to put on a backpack and another bag and a canteen full of ever cold water from the trunk. Suddenly, she dropped all her stuff and ran up to her mom. And gave her a great big huge hug. "Mom I'm going to miss you." Zenni said. "You 'll be fine Zenni, I know" replied her mother. She then ran back to her bags, picked them up and walked away slowly, looking back till she could no longer see her mother. In front of her she saw tall steel gates and jogged towards it, opened the latch, and walked through.

Now where do I go? I have no idea, though I do like to hike and research plants.

Aha! There's a tour guide person! Zenni thought to herself. She ran to the counter. It was filled with torn up cobwebs, and dust on the cash register. As she approached to the wooden counter. She saw that was a gift shop. There was a man sitting there looking as though he was waiting for someone to come.

" Hello, my name's Chuck, but people here call me old man Chuck. Tell me whenever I talk too much about myself. You see, the name started all the way back ..." " Uh, Chuck, you're going on about yourself." Zenni said "Can I help you?" Chuck finally said. "Yeah, I need to know how I can get to the nearest hiking trail." "I know, so... you go left, right, left, and then left again, and you'll meet one of my associates. He'll be your tour guide." Chuck said Zenni thanked him and went on her way thinking loudly, "So what did he say? It was left, right, left, left. aaaaaaah!" Zenni shrieked.

"Zenni musn't be scared." said a voice. "Who are you?" Zenni asked as she looked around and saw a dog-like creature. “Wait a minute, how do you know my name.” “I’m so sorry, Spoofy must say name, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, my name is Spoofy.” said the creature. “Hi, Spoofy.” Zenni said, scared to death. “Spoofy says, Zenni must not be scared to death.” Spoofy said, “Spoofy show Zenni anything she wants- Grape Vine Trail- anything.”

“Yeah, I need to go to the stone’s secret passageway.” Zenni said “Spoofy take you, come” “No, I shouldn’t be asking strangers.” Zenni said hesitating, starting to walk away. “No!” Spoofy said. “Zenni’s mom, Zenni’s mom’s mom all came to Spoofy at some moment of time.” Spoofy said. “Really?’ Zenni said, turning around on her foot. ''Yes!" Spoofy exclaimed. "Let us start!" The two of them marched of down the trail, not knowing what was going to happen ahead.

"... You see this is the white rose" Spoofy mentioned, as he would to every plant they passed while Zenni interestedly jotted down notes in the puny notebook that she always carried with her wherever she went. About two hours later, when Zenni 's notebook was filled with notes from Spoofy's lecture on plants they came up to a wide-open spot. "Stop!" Spoofy shrieked. " Whoa!" Zenni shrieked. " What was that for?" Zenni screamed. "Here is the entrance to the Stone's Secret Passageway." Spoofy said." Wait wha...? This is just a normal spot." said Zenni. "No, see, just say Barthologee" Spoofy said. '"What is that for? " Zenni asked. "It is a password." Spoofy said. "If you say so." Zenni said, more nervous than she was in the car. It was night now and not even a peep of light was to be seen. "Wait, I'll touch and feel through my backpack to see if I can find a flashlight." Zenni said. "No, don't do that. Yanze might see you." Spoofy said. Zenni sighed in fear and said, "alright then... Barthologee".

Suddenly the earth gave way and she could see a shiny trap door. Spoofy slowly opened the trap door, which led to a really bright passageway. "Aah!" Zenni screeched. "It's alright be quiet." Spoofy said, putting his index finger over his mouth. The two of them crept over through the passageway. " I do not want to have to do this once more. I have been doing this for all of my lives! " "What do you mean??"

“Yanze has the colorless opals-the power of the magical people. He does a lot of bad things using those opals. It has to be in the hands of someone strong, brave, and good. Your mother has tried to get it and so did hers and many others, but none were able to get it. I believe that you are the one.� "Me? Why me?" asked a stupefied Zenni "You'll see, you can do it. I know" said Spoofy. They went through the passage quietly, as Zenni made mental notes of where they were going. Suddenly they heard a horrible voice scream spookily, "How many more times are you going to try Zanfu? Who has come this time?"

"Who's that?" Zenni asked, trembling in fear. "Yanze" he replied and continued," Now listen, Spoofy distract, you take opals and hide in backpack, then scram". "Alright, then I will run back through this trail and down the grape vine trail and wait?" Zenni said, still trembling in fear. "When Spoofy say plan, do plan. Don't wait" Spoofy said. "0 0 Okay" she said nervously. "One, Two, Three! Plan!" Spoofy screamed.

The two of them ran to their spots. Breathing heavily, each of them solemnly did their job. Zenni quickly gathered the opals while Spoofy bravely guarded the six holes, each of where Yanze could suddenly pop out and eat them "ROARRRRRRR!!!!!!" The two them turned to look at their horror. It was Yanze himself.

"Run" signed Spoofy as he distracted Yanze with fake opals that he had brought with him. "Take care!" Zenni screamed and ran off with the opals looking back. She saw little Spoofy enveloped by the terrible creature.

Tears were flowing down her eyes as she ran past the hiking signs, the edelweiss, the papaya tree, the mango tree, the mini strawberry field, and the mini corn tree and passed old man Chuck's little gift shop, which was closed down for the night. Zenni sat there, tears coming out of her eyes. She sat there through the night, scared

and hungry. She knew she would never meet Spoofy again. As morning came, she heard the sound of her mother's car. "Mom, how come you never told my about Spoofy?" Zenni asked her mom. “What Spoofy?" said Zenni's mom. Zenni told her all that happened and showed her the Opals. “I am proud of you Zenni, you've done the impossible and about Spoofy...That was Zanfu. He shows himself to brave magical creatures in a form that they would like" said her mom by way of explanation. "But who will protect us now...Spoofy, I mean Zanfu died" asked Zenni tearfully. "Don't worry, He will be back. Nothing can kill Zanfu! Said Zenni’s mom. She then said that the opals were Zenni's to protect and that she would know what to do with them. They then drove home.

Life as a Pencil An Autobiography of a Pencil by Varija Yelagalawadi, Age 12 Quite a few memories fill up my small eraser as I remember the times of my newness. Being a mechanical pencil, I don't have to worry about shrinking in size, just have to worry about getting fed with lead quite often. We mechanical pencils are some of the best authors to be found in any store. But though we write so well, we have and will always live a depressing life. Because you see, humans are natural plagiarists. They hold us in their hand and make us figure skate all over Paper. We use our great ideas to create some of the best novels a bookstore has ever seen. Since most of our pencil lives are quite the same, I will describe my life to you so that the world can know the true feelings of us pencils. I have spent months writing many different types of writing; narrative, fiction, nonfiction, sci-fi, mystery, horror, etc. Writing 400-word essays is no easy task, mind you. After all this writing, one would presume that I would get me credit, but I don't. The child that uses me gets all the credit and even gets rewarded for my masterpieces. Though I am fed with some of the cheapest lead, I work till I can work no

more. Eventually, after writing novels, the best that my dear owner, the child, can do for me is throw me away. I feel used, terribly, terribly used. My only worry now is how my dear friend, Paper, and my brother, Pen, will write and be written on without me.

Well...well...well If you can’t be a pencil to write anyone’s happiness, then try to be a nice eraser to remove their sadness. Unknown

How to Avoid Writer’s Block Alex Yun Do you get writer's block sometimes? Here are some reasons why you might get writer's block, and what you can do about it. One reason you might get writer's block is that you're not brainstorming and freewriting enough. The solution for that is simply to freewrite and brainstorm more. Here's another reason. Another reason is that you may have run out of ideas. The solution for running out of ideas is still to freewrite and to brainstorm. Here is another reason why you get writer's block. A different reason why you might get writer's block is that you're afraid to write badly (no offense). The solution is to practice more, not be scared, and to talk to other writers. Talking to other writers is always helpful when you have writer's block.

Now you know how to avoid writer's block! l'd be surprised if you ever have problems now. And if you ever want to talk to another writer about what writer's block feels like, just ask Alex Yun.

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BUILDING CREATIVE YOUNG MINDS Young Wordsmiths is the online magazine of the Lekha Writing Center. Lekha Writing Center is committed to developing a generation of children who think beyond the book! We do this by teaching them to write creatively, using a blend of time-tested and newly-developed methods that stir one’s IMAGINATION.

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