'Magination Issue 12 by Sue Babcock

cover photograph by Eleanor Leonne Bennett A publication of Silver Pen, Incorporated

Issue 12 June 2012

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: Cave Wall by Eleanor Leonne Bennett 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 ©2012. 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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About our Cover Illustrator

Eleanor Leonne Bennett is a 16 year old internationally award winning artist. Her photography has been published in the Telegraph , The Guardian, BBC News Website and on the cover of books and magazines in the United states and Canada. See more of her photography at www.eleanorleonnebennett.zenfolio.com

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Contents Contents

Mind Thief

by Mark L. Glosser

Mr. Custard and the Goblin

by Jax Aemilias

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Fiction Mind Thief by Mark L. Glosser photographs by Eleanor Leonne Bennett

Chandra is a planet orbiting a red dwarf star. Like our moon Chandra is “tidally locked.” This means the gravitational pull of Chandra’s sun prevents Chandra from rotating on its axis. This results in one side of Chandra, like Earth’s moon, always faces its sun and is boiling hot. The other side is perpetually dark and is colder than Antarctica. A narrow strip of land circles Chandra like a ‘ribbon’ and separates its hot and cold sides. The climate in the Ribbon is ideal for humans. Eric Faulkner skidded into class just before the final bell. As usual, Mr. Stubb sat on the corner of his desk studying his students with unblinking eyes. With his wide shoulders and shaved head, he looked like a hungry vulture eyeing fresh road kill. “Let’s get started,” Mr. Stubb said, rubbing his hands together. “I want each pair of lab partners to hand in their reports.” Eric’s stomach did a flip-flop. He’d Photograph by Eleanor Leonne Bennett

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forgotten to write the report. Eric turned toward his lab partner, Nathan Frye, and slowly shook his head. Nathan’s death-cold eyes sent a chill up Eric’s spine. “I’m sorry,” Eric whispered. I’ll talk to Mr. Stubb and turn it in tomorrow.” Nathan leaned across the aisle and shoved his face to within inches of Eric’s face. Eric could smell the eggs Nathan ate for breakfast on his breath. In a cold, emotionless tone of voice Nathan said, “I hate you.” Eric swallowed the lump in his throat and remembered the Nathan who had been his best friend. That Nathan had a warm smile and a ready laugh, but the ‘old’ Nathan no longer existed. Last month, after Nathan’s father was elected president of Chandra, Nathan became colder than the rivers of liquid ethane that flowed across the frozen Darkside. The ‘new’ Nathan hung out with no one and ignored or insulted anyone who came near him. After school, Eric made the long bike ride to Crystal Cave and sat under the click-clack tree waiting for his other best friend, Ian Cray, to finish football practice. The ever-present breeze cooled Eric’s tall, wiry body and rattled the tree’s black, washcloth size leaves. Cotton candy clouds scuttled across the yellow sky and the soft purple grass invited Eric to sit down. Eric walked into the cave. The geometric designs formed by the cave’s multi-colored crystals reminded Eric of the patterns found inside a kaleidoscope. Without warning, a distorted shadow, almost as high as the cave itself, appeared against a wall. It was accompanied by a thumping sound. Eric’s heart skipped a beat, then it skipped a bunch more. Eric backed out of the cave in record time and, in a quivering voice, called out, “Hello.” There was no answer. After a moment’s thought, Eric yelled, “Come out or I’ll shoot. I have a blaster.” That was a lie. He didn’t have a peashooter let alone a blaster. Still, the bluff worked. A voice called out, “I’m coming.” The voice belonged to what looked like a four-foot tall kangaroo covered with long, curly fur. It had two big feet and a thick tail. A thousand confused thoughts sloshed around in Eric’s mind. It felt like his brain short-circuited. Short circuit, or no short circuit, one thing Eric knew Page 2

was that only intelligent beings could speak. He also knew humans had never, ever encountered any other alien civilizations. Eric was trying to put enough words together to say something when Ian appeared. Pointing at the creature Ian said, “What’s that ugly thing? A new pet?” Leaning back on its thick tail the creature thumped its foot and said, “I am not a pet, nor am I ugly. My name is Zekeerstfal Pranhbibitt, but you can call me Zeke. I’m the ruler of what’s left of the planet Atria.” One half of Eric believed Zeke. After all, seeing is believing. But Eric’s other half thought someone might be trying to con him, so he jokingly said, “What brings you to Chandra? Are we being invaded?” Zeke’s protruding eyes sank deep into their sockets and his body stiffened. “This is no joke. You are being invaded. The invaders are a parasitic race called the Gresh. They resemble a jellyfish and live inside other people’s bodies. They get inside by oozing through pores in the skin. Once it’s ‘Integrated’ a Gresh can force its host to do whatever it commands.” Ian walked over to Zeke and in a suspicious tone of voice asked, “How come you know all this stuff about the Gresh?” Zeke’s tail went limp. “I ruled a powerful nation on my home planet, Atria, when a Gresh called Rider ‘Integrated’ with me. Since I didn’t rule the entire planet, Rider forced me to conquer all of Atria because the Gresh need more hosts and want to expand their empire. The war killed millions and devastated Atria so badly it was worthless to the Gresh. So, Rider came here to try again.” Then Zeke made a fist with three of the four fingers on his right hand and pointed the fourth finger at the ground and made three short jabbing motions. “I intend to destroy Rider before millions more lives are lost.” Eric cocked his head to the side. “Why didn’t Rider kill you so that you couldn’t follow him?” “Rider thinks it killed me by stopping my heart just before it left my body. But I was lucky. My heart started beating again after Rider was gone.” “Chandra’s a big place,” said Eric. How are you going to find Rider?” Page 3

“Its ship landed on the Hotside. If I locate it, I may be able to track down Rider. But there’s a problem. I need your help because I don’t have an environmental suit able to withstand the Hotside’s temperature.” Ian looked at Eric. “Do you think he’s telling the truth?” “I don’t know, but if we go with him we’ll soon find out. Besides, if he’s telling the truth, it’s important we find Rider as soon as possible.” Ian nodded toward Zeke. “We’ll be safe. Zeke’s unarmed and we’re bigger than he is.” Three hours later Ian, Eric and Zeke were in the cab of an automated and environmentally secure vehicle. The harsh landscape of the Hotside was devoid of life. Hissing plumes of smoke shot from cracks in the ground like steam escaping from a boiling teakettle. Geysers of super heated water and molten metals roared hundreds of feet in the air. ”The magnetometer’s indicating an artificial electromagnetic source to the north,” said Zeke. “It could be Rider’s ship.” Photograph by Eleanor Leonne Bennett Page 4

Five minutes later Eric and

Ian were in their survival suits examining a cylindrical, metal object about seven feet tall with tail fins. Nothing was in or around it. Nearby was Molten Tin Lake. Eric walked toward the lake shading his eyes from the sun’s glare reflecting from its shimmering surface. “Over here,” shouted Eric holding up a knapsack. Inside it was a silvery, cloth-like object about the size of a football and shaped like a three-fingered glove. “That’s Rider’s space suit,” broadcast Zeke from inside the cab. “Right,” said Eric. “And the backpack belongs to Nathan.” Back inside the vehicle’s cabin, Eric ran his fingers through his sweat soaked hair and explained, “Not long after Nathan’s father was elected president we hiked around the lake. We took a break somewhere around here. I remember Nathan taking his backpack off. I bet Rider hid in it and then oozed into Nathan.” “Did I hear you say Nathan’s father is the ruler of this planet?” asked Zeke. “That’s right,” said Ian. “He’s been off-planet since the election, but he’ll be back in seven days. Is something wrong?” “Well,” said Zeke, “Since a Gresh sees, hears and knows everything its host does, Rider knows Nathan’s father is President. I’m sorry, but when Nathan’s father returns, Rider will kill Nathan to keep him quiet and Integrate with his father. Then Rider will force him to trick everyone on the planet into being Integrated and made Gresh slaves.” “Wait a minute,” said Eric. “Something’s not right here. There’s only one of him and millions of us. How can one Gresh, even with the President’s help, trick millions of people let alone Integrate with all of them?” Zeke hopped over to Eric and spoke in a pleading tone of voice. You must believe me or risk having your entire planet enslaved. Rider will trick people the same way he intended to on Atria. The President will declare a health emergency and insist everyone be vaccinated. Each vaccine will have one of Riders cells in it. In short order, each cell will grow into a new Gresh. “What can we do to help?” Zeke’s avoided looking at Eric and Ian when he answered Eric’s question Page 5

with a question of his own. “What’s worse, one person dying or millions dying?” “Dying? Who’s going to die?” asked Eric. “ Nathan. Since Rider is inside Nathan, Nathan will have to die so that I can kill Rider.” “You’re not going to kill Nathan!” said Eric crossing his arms in front of his chest. “There has to be a way to get this thing out of Nathan without killing him.” “Rider won’t voluntarily leave Nathan’s body without first taking the time to kill him. Remember, Rider left me only because it thought it had already killed me.” After a long silence Ian said, “Come home with us and we’ll all try to think of something. We’ll pretend you’re an off-planet pet we’ve adopted.” “Okay,” said Zeke. “But remember, Rider thinks it killed me before it came to Chandra. If it learns I’m alive and that your helping me it’ll have Nathan kill us.” “We’ll have to be extra careful,” said Eric. “I don’t want to die, but I’m willing to take a chance and risk my life if I can rescue Nathan.” “Me too,” echoed Ian. Six days later a depressed Eric sat slouching on his bedroom chair. Ian was lying on the floor with his shoeless feet on Eric’s bed. Eric’s computer beeped. “What is it?” asked Eric. The computer replied, “Mr. Stubb wants you and Ian to come back to school and meet him in the science lab.” “Why?” “No reason given.” “Let’s go,” said Ian. “Leave a message so Zeke‘ll know where we are.” The science lab was empty. It was almost creepy. Eric and Ian waited, but no Mr. Stubb. “Let’s get out of here,” said Ian. “We’ve wasted enough time.” Page 6

Eric gave the doorknob a twist. It didn’t move. He tried again. It still didn’t move. Eric’s stomach fell to his knees. Nathan was peering through the door’s permaglass window. His eyes were empty, devoid of emotion. After a moment Nathan turned and walked away. He didn’t look back. “This is not good news,” said Eric. “If Nathan doesn’t kill us, I’ll be late for dinner… again. In that case, I might as well be dead.” “Worry about your parents on your own time!” shouted Ian as he frantically started opening and closing cabinet doors. “We’ve gotta find out what Rider’s done.” “Over there,” said Eric pointing at the glass vacuum chamber on the workbench. Inside the chamber was a battery, a digital clock with two minutes showing on its display, some wires, a huge chunk of explosive and a pressure switch. “We might as well kill ourselves now,” said Eric. “If we open the vacuum chamber and let air in, the pressure switch will detonate the explosive. If we wait, the timer’ll set off the explosive. There won’t be enough of us left to fill a tea bag.” “Why would anyone want us in a teabag?” asked a shaken Ian. “Maybe Zeke will find us.” The blood drained from Eric’s face. “Don’t tell me you forgot to leave him a message!” screeched Ian. “I forgot. I‘m really sorry.” Ian sank zombie like into a chair and stared at the digital display. A minute to go. The doorknob rattled. Eric looked through the window. It was Zeke and he had a blaster. A beam of light too bright to look at cut through the metal door slicing out the lock. The door flew open and Zeke charged in. Eric wordlessly pointed at the bomb. A moment later its wiring and control switches were puddles of melted metal. Back at Eric’s house Ian asked Zeke, “How’d you know where we were?” “I asked the computer. Why?” Page 7

“Just wondering.” “Oh no,” said Eric popping out of his chair like a jack-in-the-box and pointed at the computer monitor. “Nathan’s father is returning in a few hours and not tomorrow. He’s going to present an award to the Coldside research lab. It says Nathan will meet him there.” “Have you changed your mind about the suggestion I made last week? “ asked Zeke. “Perhaps Nathan would want to die under the circumstances. I know I did.” “No way we’re killing him,” said Eric. Eric started to walk in tight circles muttering to himself. He had an idea. “The only way Rider will leave Nathan’s body is if it thinks it’s too dangerous to stay in it. So, we’ve gotta create a really dangerous situation without hurting Nathan.” “How do we do that?” asked Ian.

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“Grab your survival suit and I’ll explain later,” said Eric dashing into the garage and returning with his backpack. The cold zone was a desolate wasteland. An impenetrable darkness cloaked the land. But for the lights marking the trail to the lab nothing was visible. Billions of years had passed without the ground ever having felt the warmth of the sun. Clad in their survival suits, Eric and Ian stood on the bridge high over the boiling-cold liquid methane river. The Coldside research station was on the other side of the bridge. “What’s your idea?” asked Ian “We’ll push Nathan off the bridge. Rider’ll have to come out then.” “That’s crazy. We’ll kill Nathan as well as Rider.” “Right. But, we won’t actually drop Nathan. You’ll hang onto one of his arms or legs and let him dangle in mid-air. Rider’ll assume we’re getting even for when Nathan tried to kill us and will want to get out of Nathan’s body. It’ll try to get to you but, before it does, I’ll shove it in the river.” “Nothing personal,” said Ian, “But your plan means I have to rely on you to keep Rider from Integrating with me. If you make a mistake, I’ll end up Integrated and Nathan will end up dead.” “I know we can do it,” said Nathan in a calm, firm voice. “I don’t!” shouted Ian. “What else can we do? Look! Here comes Nathan.” Eric took a calculated risk. He leaped forward and wrestled Nathan over the guardrail. Ian reacted without thinking and grabbed Nathan by the ankles, and held him dangling in mid-air. Eric and Ian watched as a football sized blob of a green goo oozed through Nathan’s survival suit and squirmed up Nathan’s leg, straight toward Ian.” “You can’t touch Rider. It’ll just get on you,” grunted Ian, his mouth clenched from the strain of holding Nathan. “If you don’t have something to push Rider off with I’m dropping Nathan. I’m not joking.” “Eric pulled a collapsible, hiking pole from his backpack, and said, “I Page 9

thought ahead for once.” Eric leaned over the railing and poked at Rider. Rider mounted the rod. A moment later Eric dropped it shouting, “Don’t forget to write.” Rider, still clinging to the walking stick, did a lazy somersault in mid-air before it smashed into the river. Rider simultaneously froze solid and shattered into a thousand pieces. “Don’t just stand there,” groaned Ian. “Help me pull Nathan back.” Eric grabbed one of Nathan’s legs while Ian held onto the other and they dragged Nathan back over the railing. Nathan landed on his belly. After a moment, Nathan sat up and began to speak, “Thank.…” But Ian interrupted. “Nathan. You gotta loose some weight. I think I sprained my back hanging onto you. If I can’t play football for the rest of the season I’ll never talk to you again.” Everyone laughed until it hurt.

The End

AUTHOR BIO: Mark L. Glosser is a retired attorney and a life long science fiction fan. His work has appeared in various print and on-line publications. He lives in Pittsburgh, PA with his wife Caryle, two dogs named Obi Wan and Ozzie and a ca tht thinks he is a dog. He has two grandchildren named Eric and Ian who are ten and eight years old.

PHOTOGRAPHER BIO: Eleanor Leonne Bennett is a 16 year old internationally award winning artist. Her photography has been published in the Telegraph , The Guardian, BBC News Website and on the cover of books and magazines in the United states and Canada. See more of her photography at www.eleanorleonnebennett.zenfolio.com

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Fiction Mr. Custard and the Goblin by Jax Aemilias photographs by Eleanor Leonne Bennett

Mr Custard opened his eyes. The goblin had gone. What had it stolen this time? He quickly did an inventory - and muttered. There was no time to lose. He saddled the flying kitten. ‘Giddyup,’ he shouted as he climbed onto her back. ‘Let’s get that thieving goblin!’ Despite his best efforts, the kitten refused to move. Sighing, he rushed to the fridge. He poured her a saucer of milk and impatiently waited as she slowly lapped it and then washed herself. Afterwars, she rolled onto her back, purring, waiting for him to tickle her tummy. Glancing anxiously at the clock, he obliged, knowing she wouldn’t fly until she was tickled. Eventually, she stood Photograph by Eleanor Leonne Bennett

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and permitted him to remount. ‘Find the goblin, Kitty-Hawk,’ he said. ‘It must be making for the woods.’ Whooosh! The flying kitten was almost turbo powered. Milk always had that effect on her. He scanned the ground for the goblin as they flew over the village. Kitty-Hawk began to hiss. Excitedly, he looked for the goblin, but saw only a large dog. ‘No, Kitty-Hawk,’ he said. ‘Find the goblin.’ She continued to hiss at the dog, and swooped towards it. As they plummeted, he desperately offered various bribes, finally promising, ‘I’ll let you eat the goblin if we find it.’ That did the trick! Back on track, he scanned once more for any sign of the goblin. His grip tightened on the spear. Kitty-Hawk really could eat the creature; it had gone too far this time.

Photograhy by Eleanor Leonne Bennett

He remembered how he’d taken it in, after finding it in a basket on his doorstep one morning. Kitty-Hawk had detested the beast at first sight and Page 12

had sprung at it, her claws drawn. He’d cradled the goblin to him, not fooled by its baby disguise, but unable to turn it away. The ungrateful brut had run off with his new shoes on the first day. He and Kitty-Hawk had chased it and it had promised to behave in future. Each time it stole from him, he forgave it. But this time he would show no mercy! ‘There, Kitty-Hawk!’ He pointed towards the entrance of the woods. ‘There’s that no good goblin.’ The goblin looked up at them and blew a raspberry. Kitty-Hawk hissed, and Mr Custard took aim with his spear. The goblin yelped as the spear hit its bottom. ‘Down, Kitty-Hawk,’ Mr Custard ordered. He leapt from Kitty’s back as she hovered above the goblin. Rubbing its bottom, the goblin scurried into the woods. Mr Custard gave chase, shouting threats at it. He threw himself at the goblin’s legs and knocked it to the ground. The goblin promised it wouldn’t steal from him again, but he was determined not to take it back. ‘Have your nasty clown boxer shorts back then,’ it laughed, breaking wind before removing its underwear. ‘They’re ripped where you threw that spear at me.’ Mr Custard tearfully looked at the damaged boxer shorts. His granny had made them and the matching clown jumper just before she’d emigrated to the moon. ‘If I were you, I’d run,’ he said, his voice menacing. ‘Or Kitty-Hawk will eat you.’ The goblin looked towards the silhouette of the approaching kitten, took to its heels, and was never seen again.

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THE END

AUTHOR BIO: Jax Aemilias is married and lives in Plymouth, England, where he works for the local theatre. Many of his short stories and poems have appeared in magazines, anthologies and webzines, and have also been broadcast on the radio. Heâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s had some competition success.

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