FreshTalkingKids

Creation myth

I was small. Short, skinny. The smallest child in the village in fact. Being only five years of age, I was perfectly obedient and had no mind except to obey the laboring demands of my parents and older siblings. I was diligent and hard working and was tricked into doing most of my older siblings work (although I did not know it at the time.) I remember my younger, four-year old sister Esuma. She was stiller taller than me though. She was the only one who did not inflict more work on me and she was also more than willing to take on some of my work, but I did not let her do this because I loved her to much. Since I was so young and obedient, I was trustworthy and many people in the village depended on me to be a messenger-girl and carry many private letters to other inhabitants of the large village, although sometimes I was needed, to carry letters outside my village of Sadran. I gave this no thought when I was little, but as I grew older; all this hard labor angered me. I became a mischievous and troublesome girl. When I was handed a letter, as soon as I was out of sight, I would read it and make small changes so that the letters would say strange things that made absolutely no sense. This was great fun to me; to change the usual and boring letters into strange ones. However, one day, when I opened the letter, it was much more than usual. The contents of the letter read as follows:

Dear Ma’at,

As you, the god of justice surely know, there is a great famine in the land of Uslamoon. Although we would have died, a young lad named Esmukar came and when he saw our lack of food, he quickly brought bread, meat, and vegetables. He brought sweet corn, fresh fruit, dreamy white milk, dry wheat and white rice. He even went so far as to bring tiny grains of salt for us. We are now back on our feet and producing more crops than ever. This young boy Esmukar saved hundreds of lives. As you are the god of justice, I beg you to please repay him and give him what you think he deserves. This was a great kindness to us. Thank you for taking the time to read this letter and please seriously consider my request.

Sincerely,

Lurak

This letter was marked for the temple in our village. A brilliant idea came to me, and as I made sure no one could see me, I scribbled out the name Esmukar and wrote my name, Shaira, in its place. Then I headed faster than ever to the temple where I deposited the letter into a random priest’s confused hands. Never would I have guessed what happened next.

I soon forgot completely about the letter and went back to my normal life – for a while. After almost a week of mischievous shenanigans, I was going to bed later than usual because of the message I had to carry all the way to the far away land of Childlaborr. I was completely and totally exhausted so as soon as my head hit the pillow, I fell fast asleep.

I awoke to the sound of yelling at me to get up, the slamming of a door and feet stomp, stomp, stomping up the stairs. As the door to my room flew open, I threw the covers over my head. “Get downstairs now! I have been calling you for the last five minutes to come downstairs and chop the firewood. Now stop being lazy and get down here, NOW!”

The door to my room slammed again, and I groggily tripped over my thin sheet and fell out of my bed. I felt unusually clumsy as I tumbled down the steps. “Who in the afterlife are you?” screeched my mother.

“I’m your daughter. Now where is the firewood?” I grumbled, only half awake.

“No you’re not!” she screamed.

She ran around the kitchen for a minute, and then held up a mirror. “See! See!” she yelled.

“Oh my” I whispered.

Then I grabbed the mirror and ran out the door. I stared at myself in the mirror as I ran to the temple. The priests standing guard outside the double doors didn’t even try to stop me and instead just gaped in amazement, I ran to the statue of Ma’at and screamed as loud as I could “What did you do to me? What am I? What has happened?”

“You are a god now, the god of messages because that is what you do; this is the thanks to the village you helped.” A strange voice rang throughout the temple. “I’m- I’m a god?” I straightened up “I’m a god”, I said loudly. “You should be grateful!” Ma’at boomed sounding angry.

And that is when I fainted.

I awoke to all of the priests in Egypt maybe 400 in all pampering me to my every will. They were combing my wings, polishing my shoes and had changed my old ratty dress for a pure white one. It flowed slowly down to my ankles and the sleeves were tight down to my wrist where they exploded into the lightest, but still shiny gold, and hung loosely, but not limply, a good three inches down. The neckline started out huge enough that you could see my collar bones (if not for the next layer) and ran all the way down my dress until it was a neat thin cut, but the second off-white layer ran up behind the cut and peeked out over the neck line where the edge was bordered with brilliant golden stars. It was by far the most beautiful dress I had ever seen.

As I opened my eyes I heard shrieks of glee. The priests were all talking- or should I say yelling at me all at once. All of a sudden, one of the priests walked up to me through the mess of people. His face was excited and his voice was loud and echoed through the temple as he yelled “Calm down, fellow worshippers!” when the room got quiet, he turned to me. He bowed low and stayed like that until the rest of the priests followed his lead and bent into low stances. This felt amazing, to have to the world bend to your every whim, the world felt like soft clay in your hand. I felt like I had to say something and so;

“Hello.” At first I was confused, who was talking, was this really me? Could this perfect piano like voice really be mine? Could I really have changed that much? Gasps flew up from the crowd, were they as surprised as I was? I continued ”I am Shaira, goddess of message. My name means poet, as I write beautiful messages and carry them all over this universe. Now, who are you?” They all started yelling at the same time and I ever so slightly turned my eyebrows and the corners of my mouth down and the crowd stopped making noise so fast that I couldn’t have known they were talking before. My eyes fell on the head priest and he trembled with nervousness “So, who are you?” This time, only he answered, “We are the priests, and we ask you to please stay with us. He pleaded.” My response was quick, as if I had been thinking about it for a while. “I can’t,” I responded tersely. “To deliver messages, I must travel far and wide. I cannot stay. Goodbye!” My beautiful wings lifted me higher and higher and soared above the crowd. Someone threw a letter at me and I swooped down to catch it my talons. Then I flew out the open doors and took off to deliver a message.



Eyes

By, Princess Bobo

Most people say that my eyes are the most beautiful feature on my

face. My mom says that it because it’s unusual for a brown-haired

person like me to have the blue eyes I have, but really, what can I say? I

am an unusual girl. I’m a very unusual girl. My mom has turquoise

beauty eyes that hide shyly behind her big brown glasses. My dad has

big brown laughing eyes, joking eyes, my dad has muddy eyes but not at

all in a bad way. My sister’s eyes are thinking eyes, the way that they

can stare at something and never get bored. She has eyes the color of

chocolate, warm and melted; they are the color of chocolate. My brother

has wondering wandering eyes distracting drifting off eyes. His are

curious eyes, yelling ‘Teach me something! I want to learn!’

My eyes are inspiration eyes, Creative ‘Lets have fun!’ eyes.

Surrounded by an army of eyelashes, my eyes have four colors, instead

of three, the creamy white outside, the black pupils, the bluish outside,

and then, there is a strange orange color that surrounds the pupils, I

don’t know what it is. It’s strange that I don’t know exactly what color

my eyes are, I’ve been told that there turquoise or completely orange while some people swear that they’re green or hazel. Someone even told

me they were purple. When I look in the mirror, my eyes are like a lake,

a lake, everyone invasions blue, but when you look closely, they’re

grayish and greenish, only hinted with blue, and sprinkled with some

color that I just cant pinpoint. That color in my eyes that I just can’t pinpoint, that color in my eyes that

I just don’t know.

  Rosa’s Rosy Life

My name is Rosa. I have very straight blond hair, and my eyes are blue. I can whistle. I have an older brother named Rafi, and a dog and two goldfish. My friend Tess and I like to play fairies. In school, we are studying the letter “R”. My favorite food is pizza!! I like it even better than dessert! My favorite animal is a bunny, and I was a bunny for Halloween. I don’t like wearing pants.

This story is a character sketch written by “Rosa”, my six year old friend with a great imagination! “Rosa’s Rosy Life” is a story about an imaginary character that she based on herself.