Retelling Sleeping Beauty (296 words)
Supposing when he met her, the prince didn’t kiss her, not at once. Suppose he sat down and thought about it.
That is what Prince Mark did when he found Sleeping Beauty. First he checked her pulse to make sure she was alive, and then he sat down, thinking. After all, she was very beautiful and a stranger. There was a lot for him to think about.
Missing Treasure (178 words)
“No no, it was here. I’m sure it was here.”
The pirate crew exchanged uneasy glances. Mr. Steamroller held up the map for another scientific study, the latitudes, longitudes, significant markings and conclusive X. Yes, the treasure should have been here. It wasn’t, and that was final, too.
“Someone must’ve got here before us,” said the old salt. “We’re too late.”
Goblin Summer Song (69 Words)
God is singing in the summer
Rolling out the leaves of green
Straightening the little weedlings
And spreading every songbird’s wing.
A Dream of Light (99 words)
He lit the candle and the golden glow, even half-shadowed, was immediate. It overwhelmed the light from the Aasfresser’s lamp.
“I’ve seen candles,” said the girl.
To Be A Fish (150 words)
Sometimes he wondered what it was like, to be a fish. It must be very peaceful. James could imagine the brown cool waters closing over his head, the water life swimming around him, a wealth of good food in green muck. He could also imagine a bigger fish, mouth gaping wide and coming for him with the speed of disaster.
“James?”
Story Time (99 Words)
“Were you ’fraid, Tilly?” Noel sounded as tiny as he was, looking up into Mr. Caddy’s face with the wide open eyes of a six-year-old.
“Wisht, no,” said Mr. Caddy. He challenged his audience with mischievous eyes. “D’ye know why I wasn’t afraid? Well I’ll tell you. I knew, sure I knew, that Hattie would save me.”
Sniffkins and Sandwiches (360 words)
—Do you know what those stones are? Why, they could be anything. Sentinels over a sacred place, forgotten long before the world remembers to forget you. They could be the guardians of some terrible or great secret. Or perhaps—they are the standing graves of the chieftains who have gone before us, kings and queens rotting under the earth—
“Now you’re being morbid,” said Molls wearily. She sat down next to one of the stones, letting her back rest. “We’re never going to find my sister or the others, not in this mist.”
