The Adventure to America
A Second-Class Boat
Lydia stared at her humble trunk. Ma and Pa didn't make me do this, there's no reason I should be mad at them, she reminded herself. Exhausted, she pushed her tangled mess of hair behind her ear, not bothering to take it all down and put it all up again. It's not that she was lazy, just tired.
Only a few hours ago, Lydia had boarded the boat going from Africa and landing in America. Luckily, her father traded a lot with America and had taught her some of their language, but not so much that she could speak fluently. It was so hard learning a new language, especially one that is completely different from the one you were raised with! But Ma had reminded her that no changes are ever easy.
But one can learn a lot about a boat in a few hours. You can learn that waves are very choppy and bumpy and disagree with your stomach. You can learn that the portions are small and mostly inedible. You can also learn that blacks like her weren't allowed up on deck.
Lydia thought that was unfair. What kind of boat was this? Was it going to be like this in America too? If so, she didn't want to go. Would they even seperate what kids you could play with, or how differently you were treated? Lydia was suddenly scared of this new world. She was a stranger here. A strong gust blew through the windows that didn't close and were always open. Tired and wanting to just fall asleep, Lydia fell asleep, all wrapped up in her woolen blanket at the foot of the ladder leading up to the deck. She dreamed that she was dressed all fancy like the white passengers upstairs, and she was having a party. Little did she know that it would take a lot to get there were she was going. Little did she know that all her worst fears were about to come true.
The man in the black coat walked down the street. The brim of his hat cast a shadow across his face so no one knew who he was. He turned a corner, and turned into a small building. Inside was a room, with a huge crowd surrounding a dead body, all their mouths wide open. Murmurs were going through the crowd as they stared. The man was confused. Was this the murdered man that had been killed three weeks ago? The man spoke:
"What is going on here?" he asked. He only knew a few people from previous experiences at work. But half of the people examining the dead body the man could not name.
"Oh, Detective Black! We're so glad you've come! We need you to find out who murdered this man!" said a woman with a pointed hat like a witch's.
The case had been covered weeks ago by a journalist that worked for the local paper, the Motown Chronicle. Not even the police had found out yet who had committed the crime and why. Strange things seemed to be happening. Detective Black remembered random murders like these back in the days of before he had destroyed his evil nemisis in a sinking ship. All of a sudden, a man dressed in a purple robe in front of a very old mantle, said to be as old as time itself, sighed impatiently as if waiting in a long line for something very important he needed to get to now. "Black Panther, come with me," he said, making motions with his gloved hands. Detective Black was startled by being unusually adressed by his secret agent name, the Black Panther. He followed the man in purple robes to a secret trapdoor right in front of the mantle. Everyone watched as Detective Black crossed the room, but when the man in purple opened up the trapdoor everyone's attention was drawn to the dead body on the floor. Reluctantly, Detective Black climbed into the trapdoor, not sure if the man in purple was a friend or a foe.
Black Panther (or Black for short) followed the man down a steep ladder that almost felt as if he were climbing on the bottom of the monkey bars it was so slanted. Sweating, Black landed on the hard dirt ground of the tunnel. He coughed as dust arose and caught in his chest.
The man in the purple robes fell gracefully to the ground almost without any noise. Dust swirled around him too, but he did not cough. Black tried to see his face, but it was covered by a purple mask. Of course, thought Black. Perfect. Now I don't even know who he is!
"You may be wondering who I am," said the man in purple with a deep, low voice that was somehow recognizable, but Black couldn't put his finger on it.
"Of course," said Black. "Anyone would be." He tried to sound calm, but really he was very frightened.
"I already know your name. My name is Maricous Brooks. I believe we've met before, when you tried to kill me not so long ago." The man smiled wickedly.
Black gasped. That's why the voice was familiar! It belonged to his evil nemisis, Maricous Brooks, on of the country's top ten most wanted criminals. Brooks cackled as staggering men with spears and ragged clothing came out from all around him, encircling Black. The detective pulled out his knife and slashed away, but magically the wounds seemed to heal without a single scar. He fought them off with his knife for what was like ten hours to him, but was really about five minutes. Exhausted, he stopped, breathing hard. Brooks laughed as his men bound his hands and feet with rope on a stick. As they carried him away, Black's head hit a rock. He blanked out for a long time, so long that Brooks even thought he was finally dead...
But was he?
Black awoke in a small, confined space. Trying to be calm, he realized he was in a coffin. Buried alive! he thought. He suddenly realized his throat was parched and his stomach was growling mercilessly. He searched his person for an apple or something, but nothing was there. In fact, he wasn't wearing any of his own clothes but instead was wearing a pair of flimsy, white, cotton drawstring pants and a plain white tunic with a nearly invisible vine pattern on the v-neck collar. He noticed the faint smell of cologne and aftershave. Black longed for his old clothing, but had no way to get it. Shivering, he drilled a hole using the mini power drill he kept in his shoe that was wide enough for his whole body to fit through in the lid of the coffin and pushed himself through the hard soil up into the night sky.
Black had no idea where he was, but he had his handy compass. Headquarters was North, but his apartment was East, and Black needed a long rest. He began to head in the direction of his house, but after a while he realized how far away he was. He had been walking for over thirty minutes and still wasn't home. in ten minutes he reached a harbor. Now he was very scared. He lived nowhere near the sea. What was going on?
Black decided to ask directions to the East End Apartment Building, where he lived. But it seemed that only one fisherman spoke any English. All the others spoke some foreign language that sounded a lot like Russian.
And this man didn't even seem to know where Black was talking about. "Shop's closed," he said, but Black kept asking. "East End Apartment Building. Also known as East End Apartment Complex? Never heard of it? What is this place?" Black questioned the man.
The fisherman looked at Black cluelessly, then went to a shelf and pulled out a map of a country that looked nothing like America. Everything was in, again, some weird language. "I don't live here. I live somewhere else. America. Where am I?" Black said, confused.
The fisherman looked surprised. "America? America far. Not here. Can't help you. Sorry. Shop's closed." And this time it really was. Black, once again, found himself alone in the streets of a small Russian fishing village, with no money, no car, and no food. What was he going to do?
After walking aimlessly for miles, Black came across a huge glass dome fenced in with barbed wire. Desperate and a little curious, Black was able to squeeze his skinny body through a wide hole in the fence.
Black entered the dome through the unlocked front door and climbed through the rafters of the huge structure. There was a big machine in the middle of the dome covered by a huge blue tarp. Black heard voices and shrunk behind the rafters.
"...rid of Black, we can put our plan into action!" snickered a gruff voice. Black peered through the bars and saw Brooks and one of his comrades walking into the complex.
"Why so tense, sir? There's nothing to worry about! With Black out of the picture and no longer a threat, we can put our problems behind us and get to the heart of the matter--getting this past The Boss. Do you think he'll approve?
"No," replied Brooks simply.
"Why, sir?" asked the comrade, obviously confused.
"Because," responded Brooks, "Black is not behind us. He is in this very building."
Footsteps. Unavoidable footsteps. "Hello, Black."
Stories By Genna
Once upon a time there was a ladybug. Her name was Ladybug.
"Oh, how I love my dress and shoes and hair and self," she said. She was a very stuck up ladybug.
One day, Ladybug was walking around when she saw Elf. Elf was a very mischievous fellow, and so when he saw Ladybug he decided that he would play a prank on her and her dress and shoes and hair and self.
"Hello Ladybug. How are you on this fine morning?" asked Elf rather suspiciously, because elf was NEVER nice.
But Ladybug, being the dumb, self-centered, compliment-hungry ladybug that she was, didn't notice and said "Fine, Elf, and you?" in a rather pleasant way.
"Good, good. Listen, I hear that is is a very nice time of year in Maine," Elf said. He laughed silently. It was freezing cold in Maine this time of year! Ladybug would hate it! But Ladybug didn't know any better, so the next day she flew to Maine. It will take her weeks to reach Maine, thought Elf as he waved her goodbye.
In her haste and eagerness to get to Maine, Ladybug had left her leaf house unlocked. Elf slipped in and stole everything--her shoes, and clothes, and silverware and plates and glasses and everything else that he could carry. Then he came back to the house with a big truck and he put everything that he couldn't carry like her mushroom table, her cotton bed, and everything else that was too big for him to hold. Then he drove away and put everything in his own home and sat back and relaxed for a whole two months. Soon, Elf started to get fat. He couldn't get off Ladybug's comfy cotton bed, because he wasn't getting enough exercise. He wanted to get up and play more pranks on his other "friends", but he was too busy delighting in the comfiness (is that even a word?) and luxury Ladybug's household items brought him. So when Ladybug returned from Maine, he didn't even notice. He was sleeping and eating cheese.
But the next day, Grasshopper walked into Elf's house. He didn't knock on the door, and didn't even take off his muddy shoes. This was not like Grasshopper--being Leaftown's personal policeman, he was usually very polite. But he was there to solve a crime, so he didn't have time for etiquette. Once he walked inside Elf's bedroom, he was stunned!
All of Ladybug's personal items were in this room! Her rock-washer! Her shoes and clothes! Her cotton bed! Her…balloon?
Then Grasshopper realized that what was sitting on Ladybug's not-so-missing-anymore cotton bed was not a balloon, but Elf. He was so fat Grasshopper barely recognized him!
"Elf, have you stolen Ladybug's bed?" asked Grasshopper.
"Not stolen, exactly, but borrowed," said Elf.
"Same with her shoes?"
"Have you stolen EVERYTHING in Ladybug's house?" asked Grasshopper.
"Then what haven't you stolen?"
"Everything. I haven't stolen anything. I've BORROWED it, like I told you."
"Well then what haven't you BORROWED?" Grasshopper asked. He was getting very frustrated.
"Her wallpaper. And her roof and her floors and her walls and her nightstand."
That was true. The nightstand had been a rather ugly thing to look at, so Elf had decided to leave it behind.
"You know that's not what I mean! Oh, never mind. I demand you to return Ladybug's things this instant!"
So, being the fat little elf that he was, Elf hired a team of moving cockroaches to do all the work for him. But no matter how much he tried, he still couldn't get off of Ladybug's comfy cotton bed, which didn't displease him at all, by the way. So after three weeks of sleeping on her not-so-comfy wood chip couch, Ladybug complained to Grasshopper again, who decided that, again, he'd have to take matters into his own hands.
The Summer Children
The next day, Alexis was washing dishes with Mom after breakfast. She hadn't worked up the nerve to tell her about her little night walk outside last night, or the flash of light, or the sonic boom, or the aliens (or at least, what she thought were aliens). Finally, as Mom was wiping the fog off her glasses, Alexis blew it all out. "Aliens, Mom! Last night, outside, there were aliens!" Mom looked up from her glasses. "What?" she said, confused.
Once she was done explaining the whole thing, being outside, eating the ravioli, seeing the flash, hearing the boom, getting freaked out by the alien kids, Mom just stared at her, probably more confused than ever. Finally she decided. "A dream, honey--it was all just a dream. You probably ate that ravioli and went to bed, and you were so tired you didn't even realize it. That food before bed probably gave you a bad dream. Don't worry, sweetie, there's no such thing as aliens," Mom reassured her daughter. But Alexis wasn't so sure. The boom, the flash, the kids--it had all been as real as her toes. But she went along with it. "Oh, yeah, I was probably just dreaming," said Alexis.
"That's right, honey. Dry this one for me, will you?" Mom handed Alexis a plate. But that wasn't on Alexis's mind. All she was thinking about was that "dream" last night. She wasn't concentrating at all and dropped a plate. She grabbed for it as it fell, but she couldn't reach it. She anticipaited the crash. She waited.
But it didn't come.
Alexis opened her eyes. There, hovering a mere inch or two above the floor, was the plate she had dropped, perfectly intact, not a crack in sight. Alexis couldn't believe it, but Mom hadn't noticed, and her stack of dishes to dry was getting bigger. Alexis put the plate gingerly away in the cupboard, and then turned to the rest of her dishes. She dropped none of them, and none of them appeared to float or fly away. But Alexis was still creeped out beyond imagine. Once she was done with the dishes, she decided to go outside.
Thanks to past summers, Alexis was an avid explorer, and her night vision was great. But it wasn't great enough to lead her to entirely new places every day. The woods in her backyard were full of little crawl spaces and secret hideouts, made out of some fallen tree or a past avalanche, from the times when the slopes of her backyard was actually a mountain, back when the dinosaurs lived. Alexis could see everything in the light of day, explore ever tunnel, crawl under every fallen tree, shimmy through every hollowed out log, see every frog and bug out on the swamps and puddles. Alexis loved it.
But there was one tunnel. One tunnel just like all the others, a little bigger in size, but perfectly the same. It was covered by a rock formation that Alexis thought was hardly "natural", because it looked like the maker had selected very specific shapes of rock and limestone to make the cave. It was like the opening to a subway tunnel--like a piece of macaroni cut in half sticking out of the ground. The doorway looked like something out of Stonehenge. Alexis couldn't wait to explore it.
Book Reviews By Genna
By Astrid Lindgren - Pippi has been at sea all her life. So, naturally, when she moves into the ramshackle house of Villa Villekulla, her neighbors are curious to find out more about this girl that can lift horses off her porch, has a monkey for a pet, and even has a whole suitcase full of gold pieces! Follow Pippi, Annika, and Tommy in their adventures to the park for a picnic, school, and even the circus! For anyone who is looking for a book filled with humor and happiness, this is a great read.
By Madeleine L’Engle - Meg Murry is an ordinary girl with no father. But Meg then discovers that her father has been studying the fifth dimension of time and, during a dangerous experiment, was flung through space. Now the time comes for Meg, her friend Calvin, and her brother Charles Wallace to save him. But can they join together to outwit the forces of evil that are the only things that stand in their way on this action-packed journey through time and space? Read the book to find out!
Stories By Viewers
T minus ten.
My heart is beating in my chest, so hard that I swear the world can hear it.
T minus nine.
I know I'm on national television. Is this my only time of fame?
T minus eight.
I strap my self into the chair, and prepare for the "lucky" number.
T minus seven.
I know that now the final mistakes occur. It's too late to chicken out.
T minus six.
I have to do this. For my friends and family.
T minus five.
Halfway through. No turning back now.
T minus four.
I'm shaking in my seat. I'm starting to feel nervous.
T minus three.
The final seconds. These last moments on Earth.
T minus two.
It's almost time.
T minus one.
One more second. One second left.
the cat walked back
he fell into a vat
the vat had cheese
now he has fleece
Book Reviews By Viewers
This book was fantastic!! It was Poppy and Rye, written by AVI and it was about two mice that somehow find their way into love together. A must read! Hope this helped. Happy Reading!
DON'T SAY HER NAME 3 TMES! B-Mary(x3) is a book I wrote on this site. It's very funny, but CREEPY!!! Its about me, and BFFs, on Halloween; and my friends dare me to do Bloody Mary. We do it, and the one who dared me to do it, Indie, chickened out, 2 minutes into the dare. I try all of them, and it didn't end well. I wrote it when I had pink eye, listening to Lady Gaga- Bloody Mary. I was scared, so... I kinda write what I feel. Bloody Mary's a witch. She's right behind me, isn't she? I'm not kidding, she's really behind me She scratched mBLOODY MARY
Okay, she's gone. OH, by the way, I wrote this on the Wii Internet! Love, your beloved storywriter, Knuckles