StoneSoup e Magazine by Young Writers Artists Illustration by Anna Welch, age 13, from Flynn, page 5 Sometimes it seemed like Zitza had the spirit of a girl, not a zebra Zitza After Jack hears Grandpas story, he promises to win the 400meter dash Bowl of Strawberries n ov e m b e r d e c e m b e r 2 0 0 8 6. 5 0 u s 6. 5 0 c a n a da

StoneSoup e Magazine by Young Writers Artists Stories Flynn by Hugh Cole . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 If the Alarcon looks Flynn in the eye, it can take away his powers Zitza by Alexandria Lenzi . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14 After years of drought, Zambias family is desperate Stille Nacht by William Gwaltney . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19 Tom Foxley remembers a special Christmas 53 years ago

Gerry Mandel William Rubel Editors Nikki Howe Subscriptions StoneSoup e Magazine by Young Writers Artists elcome to all our readers, old and new Weve had the pleasure of publishing Stone Soup for over 35 years. It is our belief that, by presenting rich, heartfelt work by young people the world over, we can stir the imaginations of our readers and inspire young writers and artists to create. Staci Sambol Design and Production W Barbara Harker Administrative Assistant Stone Soup ISSN 009

e Mailbox I am writing to congratulate Emmy J. X. Wong on her story, The Gift JulyAugust 2008. It was a sweet and enjoyable story. The mention of Make Way for Ducklings, a story I love, made me smile. Emmy made me feel Jen and her grandmothers positive relationship strongly. Jen is so innocent and fairylike that I want to hug her Also, the illustrations were awesome. Anna Welch made Emmys characters come alive through drawing. The shading, use of color, and details were all amazing. Go Anna Rac

It was getting dark. He knew that he needed to head back to the cabin 4 s t o ne s o u p

Flynn By Hugh Cole Illustrated by Anna Welch F lynn Cadara looked up at the sky. It was getting dark. He knew that he needed to head back to the cabin. It would be dinnertime undeniably, and he didnt want to miss it. Tam Flynn called out. A large, wolflike dog appeared, heading toward Flynn at a slow trot. Its time to head home, Flynn said. Did you find anything interesting Theres a large herd of elk not far from here, Tam said to him, looking up at Flynns face as they headed up a low hill. Yo

What took you so long, son And what have I told you about those, those... pants Winters not a month away And you dont even have your boots on Tallinn called out in frustration. My boots are too small, and these pants are more comfortable Oh, well, well go into town tomorrow to get you some more boots, but if you wear those, those... shorts anymore before winter is over, Ill burn them. Come inside, were having supper. Your mother is worried sick about you. Tallinn was a strong man, a kind but fir

dashed to Tallinns bed, which was across the room from his. Selenia was slumbering fitfully, but... Tallinn wasnt in the bed. Flynn looked over at Tams small bed. Empty too. Come on, are you coming or not whispered a voice below him, making him jump. It was Tam. What Flynn whispered back. We have to get to the elk as soon as possible. We wont have this chance every day. Cmon Selenia said... Flynn began. Dont pretend that you dont want to go hunting, Flynn. Im sure Selenia will understand when sh

It roared out into the night and looked over, directly into Flynns eyes 8 s t o ne s o u p

What was that Flynn gasped. I dont know, Tallinn said, but Flynn wondered if he really did. What made it run away Flynn asked Tam quietly as they walked back to the cabin. Your father hit it in the eye. How did he know to do that Flynn inquired, but they were back at the cabin. Tallinn and Flynn slowly crept in, took o their clothes, and got into bed, trying not to disturb Selenia. W T he next morning, Flynn got up and asked his father if he could go out. Tallinn said no. Flynn understood, b

One more thing. What How did you know about the monster Tallinn hesitated. Ask Tam to tell you, and Im sure he will. OK, Flynn said, and he went and got into his bed. ver the next few weeks, Flynn rarely went out. He constantly asked Tam about the monster whenever Selenia was out of sight, though the big dog refused to give any details. He continuously told Flynn that he would tell him when the time was right, though Tam didnt say when the time would be. Tallinn told Selenia about the entire ord

Explain my powers, Flynn asked. You have your ability because your greatgreatgrandfather didnt kill an animal when he was starving to death and when he had the opportunity. The animal granted him the power and then showed him food. Thats all. And the power was passed down in your family, Tam said quickly and simply. Wait, asked Flynn, perplexed. If it passes down in the family, why doesnt my father have the power It was on your mothers side, though she lost it when she married a man from a diere

Book Review By Anna West Ellis Louisianas Song, by Kerry Madden Viking Childrens Books New York, 2007 16.99 W Anna West Ellis, 11 Orono, Maine e just keep walking but going nowhere. This statement, spoken by Livy Two, the main character in Louisianas Song, explains the childrens diculty in reconnecting to their father after his car accident. The car accident leaves him without any memory of his family and his past. This situation gives the Weems family an unexpected opportunity to discover

Louise, the artist of the family, who is shy and tall, forever longing to get out her brushes and paint, leaving the rest of her complicated world behind. Louise too knows the true meaning of hardship, and with Livy Two by her side, she takes life into her own hands and gathers enough courage to paint portraits on the street for strangers, beginning to sing a song of her own. As Louisiana ponders her own complicated world, I as the reader have questions too. The whole time I read Louisianas Song

Zitza By Alexandria Lenzi Illustrated by Joan He Alexandria Lenzi, 13 Stockton, California Joan He, 11 Wynnewood, Pennsylvania ambia sat in a rare patch of green grass, surrounded by the tall yellow strawlike plants that made up the African savanna, her homeland. This was her place. She came here to be alone with her thoughts and escape lifes anxieties. A feeling of peacefulness washed over her every time she lay down there. Shed lose herself in the warm breeze rustling the golden stalks arou

Sometimes it seemed like Zitza had the spirit of a girl, not a zebra it seemed like Zitza had the spirit of a girl, not a zebra. Zambia and her tribe were starving, and many had died from lack of food and water. Many were dying now, including her mother. There was nothing she could do about it. Just wish for rain, rain, rain. She stood and hoisted herself up onto Zitzas back, wrapping her arms around her friends neck. A gentle nudge with her foot signaled Zitza to start walking. She knew where

center. Zambias family hut was the farthest away from the othersand the closest to the Bush. When they arrived, she slid o Zitzas back and led her to her arena, which shed made years ago for the zebra. Good night, dear Zitza, she whispered, and went inside. Her father greeted her solemnly and said good night. Zambia knelt by her mother, who was lying down already, her eyes closed. It hurt Zambia to see her so thin and her stomach bloated with deprivation of water. After kissing her hot forehead,

Zitza frantically scanning the field for blackandwhite stripes. Zitza Zambia shot o at a run, still screaming, until she fell onto soft grass. She pressed her face into the ground and tore at the plants with feverish hands. When I look up shell be there, grazing in our special place, she thought. Slowly she lifted her head. Nothing. She was alone. Her head dropped back onto the ground, her body shaking with sobs. No, no, no Not gone Not my Zitza Zambia stayed there until it got dark. Finally she

Winter By Danica Lee The flowers call Their last farewell To the woods As winter comes To wilt their petals. The snow falls Upon brown leaves Fallen on the roofs Of houses strung With sparkling lights. The crisp air And glittering frost The little pus of breath And mugs of steamy tea Only come in winter. Danica Lee, 12 Sanford, North Carolina 18 s t o ne s o u p

Stille Nacht A World War I Christmas By William Gwaltney Illustrated by author christmas eve , 1967 ld Tom Foxley sat in his living room by the fireplace hearth, the logs of the fire burning brightly. His dog, Mack, lay next to his armchair, like a pile of laundry, his shadow flickering on the wall behind him. The warmth of the fire was the only warmth Tom felt this Christmas, for many of his friends were now gone and his dear wife, Elizabeth, had passed away the previous spring. In the corne

The warmth of the fire was the only warmth Tom felt this Christmas 20 s t o ne s o u p

that he missed her fussing almost as much as he missed her. He gently reached down to stroke old Macks head, remembered more happy Christmases of the past and then... the most memorable that he had ever witnessed. t was Christmas Eve Day, 1914, and the continual barrage of shells and gunfire seemed to pound his ears like a hammer. Young Tom, just seventeen years old, kept as low as possible as he moved through the sloppy trench, the water in the bottom rising well above his knees. As explosions

days. No one slept well in the trenches. Some men simply slept standing on their feet, while others preferred to sleep in dugouts, small holes crudely cut into the earthen walls of the trenches. They were cramped and damp, and sometimes ratinfested, but not nearly as wet as the trenches themselves. Tom went in search of his sergeant. He found him at a small table set up in the driest part of the trench, consulting with the lieutenant over a series of maps laid out in front of them. Tom saluted a

Thousands of eerie yet beautiful little lights illuminated the edge of the German parapets n o v em berdece mber 2008 23

but one of the Saxons climbed out of the trench to set it right again. A wilder thing Ive never seen. He was in full view of our gunners. But there he was, plain as day, without a care in the world. It was almost as if he was daring us to shoot him Suddenly, a beautiful sound filled the crisp night air. The Jerries are singing, said Fred, his voice filled with awe. Stille Nacht, thats Silent Night Oddly enough, the hymn sent joy surging from Toms heart right into his very soul. He felt happier a

dead with dignity. And, thought Tom, to celebrate the holiday as it was meant to be celebrated in peace. The lieutenant looked thoughtful for a moment. Finally, he saluted. Very good, sir, he responded as they reached out to shake hands over the wire. The German smiled, but only for a moment. Then a fit of coughing wracked his body, causing him to turn away. As he began to return to his own side, Tom called out to him. The man stopped. How long have you been sick asked Tom. The German sighed. Fo

Tom could hardly believe his eyes. The man looked much dierent, but the sweater was the same 26 s t o ne s o u p

A loud ruckus brought Tom back to the present. Mack was barking insistently. Tom decided that he must need to go out. Heaving his seventyyearold body up out of his chair, Tom headed for the door. He had, of course, never seen the sweater again, but that was all right. Tom only hoped that it was because the German had lost his address, or perhaps lost the sweater, or simply gotten too busy once he returned home to his family to think about sweaters or war or young men back in England. Tom did no

Book Review By Nora Katz Red Moon at Sharpsburg, by Rosemary Wells Viking Childrens Books New York, 2007 16.99 W Nora Katz, 13 Riegelsville, Pennsylvania hen I first glanced at the cover of Red Moon at Sharpsburg, by Rosemary Wells, the rich hues and hypnotic detail drew me in. A fire bursts out of the sunset as a young girl and two men look on, entranced. This fire burns deep inside India Moody, a fourteenyearold girl caught up in the Civil War behind Rebel lines. In a letter from a friend,

and Emory have plans to publish a paper on popular European studiesmedicine, bacteria, and disease. India transcribes Emorys letters and they prepare for a breakthrough in science that will have lasting impact and save millions of lives. India believes in the Rebel cause, yet she is primarily concerned with curing victims through preventative medicine. Because I am a believer in pacifism, I see myself working as India did, doing anything possible to help those aected by war, no matter which side

So, says Cheryl, how have your precious drawings been going lately 30 s t o ne s o u p

Irah, the Princess By Lena Greenberg Illustrated by Zo Dong he is leaning against the school sign that reads HalfDay Friday Her brown hair comes only to her chin. In her hand she carries a plain, brown book. I have never seen her before, but I know at once she is my friend. Kara, dont forget your lunch bag, my mother says from the front seat, jerking me from my thoughts. I nod, take it from her and start across the lawn. What did your mommy want, Kara Cheryl Reyes asks, striding over to me. Non

Cheryl snis. Shes weird. But when the bell rings, I notice that Cheryl is careful to avoid the new girls eyes. have a student Class, welook up from newsketching today. I my to see Ms. Reynolds, our teacher. I hope you will all treat her nicely. Would you like to come up and introduce yourself The girl I saw on the playground looks up from her journal and nods. As she walks to the front of the room, I see that she is still barefoot. Ms. Reynolds notices as well. Where are your shoes, please I le

far Ive been running until I stop, hearing a soft cry of surprise. Somethingor someonejumps down from the tree overhead. Then I see her hair messed and tangled now, but otherwise looking as she did in the classroom. Irah, the princess. She smiles at me with a mysterious, beautiful smile, reaches down, and pulls up an obscure little wildflower Id never noticed before. One of the leaves is cracked and brown. This is a pretty one, dont you think she asks. Um, yeah. I want to ask a million questions

Irah looks over them, and her eyes light up. She understands 34 s t o ne s o u p

the princess The princess eyes the girls without any kind of hatred. Instead, she smiles slightly before taking out her journal and leaning against the wall. I, Picasso, however, grow brickred in the face. When I see Irah, however, I suddenly remember what she said the other day in the woods, about Cheryl being very nice. What did that mean I wasnt sure. But all I knew was that if a princess could think Cheryl was very nice, I could too. fter that day, something has changed. Irah is the reason I

rah does not show up in class for the rest of the day. I cannot concentrate on school. The numbers and letters blur together into one confusing shape. I only think of Irah, and how I have hurt her. I hope that maybe tomorrow she will be back in school. But she is absent. After school, I go back to the patch of woods, hoping that maybe Irah will magically appear to reassure me. I find no sign of her. Finally, Ms. Reynolds brings us news in class. You all remember Irah Anders, she says. She is mov

Kara. I have enclosed something for you and your classmates to shareI hope you like it. Your loyal friend, Irah, the princess We helped her understand about reality I thought she understood everything. But under it all she was just a girl, like Cheryl and I were girls. She wasnt a magical spirit. All she did was look past dierences and see people underneath, like I was seeing her now, not as a magical creature, just as a friend. But that was all I had wanteda friend. I unwrap the package next,

One Night in Autumn By Rhiannon Grodnik The wind Is blowing strongly into my face. It feels good. I close my eyes and lie back In the wet grass. It is dark out and everyone else is sleeping. Everyone but me. Its a nice feeling, being alone Out here. Ticktock. I hear the sounds of my watch, Every second, every minute. Why does my watch have to remind Me of the time passing It was nice to forget About time. Always people are so busy, They never have time to think About who they are And who they w

Am I really here, all alone, so close to my home, Yet so far Is this a dream Everything that happened and everything that will happen Rides away on the wind Up, up it goes Past the moon and into infinity. Dawn creeps in on me and I quietly let myself In through the back door. I tiptoe up the stairs into my bedroom Like a burglar in my own house. Safe in my bed again, I pretend Im sleeping. No one will ever guess where I was that autumn night But I will never forget it. n o v em berdece mber 200

Jacky kept a steady pace, enjoying the scenery around his neighborhood 40 s t o ne s o u p

Bowl of Strawberries By Andrew Lee Illustrated by Chasen Shao J acky kept a steady pace, enjoying the scenery around his neighborhood. His old, worn sneakers kissed the asphalt every time he took a stride. The sun was out, and clouds scattered the sky like the stung from a ripped pillow. Jack felt his heart pound in line with his breathing. His legs slowly relaxed as Jack continued on his run. It was good to be alive and moving. As he approached his house, Jack slowed to a jog and stopped on t

Hey, Mom Whens my next meet I wouldnt know, honey. Why dont you go check the calendar Im sure its sometime this week. Jack smiled. He threw the apple core into the trash and walked to the family calendar, tracing his finger over the paper. Hmm. My practice on Monday goes until 515 this week, Mom. My meet is on Tuesday. Youre all coming, right Jacks mom came into the room, wiping her hands on her kitchen apron. This Tuesday Im sorry, Jack, I forgot to tell you. Grandpa said he wasnt feeling well

tripped and fell hard onto the track. I tell you, it wasnt pretty. He tripped you Jack was indignant. That guy should have been disqualified No one ever proved anything, and the ocial wasnt exactly paying attention, explained Jacks grandpa. Heck, I dont even know myself. I mightve tripped myself by accident. But I learned to accept it over time. After all, if life throws mushy apples at you, you can always make applesauce. Anyway, I twisted my ankle and felt a deep pop. Heard it, more like. I di

dumbly. The ocial stretched the runners along the stagger positions for lanes two through six. He walked out of the way and held up his gun. Runners to your marks Jack spread his feet apart, leaning forward. Get set He tensed. Bang The starter gun went o. Jacks stomach leapt to his throat. And then he was o, sparks flying o his feet. He sprinted fast to gain a bit of lead. Jack concentrated on his pace as he rounded the first curve. Now the race was just him, the track, and his own fatigue. Jack

Jack felt tears spring to his eyes. But I lost, Grandpa. I promised you I would win Jack felt tears spring to his eyes. But I lost, Grandpa. I promised you I would win. He sobbed, grief overcoming his exhausted body. He saw a few parents staring, but he didnt care. Jack. His grandpa looked him straight in the eye. Im proud of you. Never forn o v em berdece mber 2008 get that. I wanted to come to thank you personally for finishing my race. I owe that to you. You did well to place second. And no

Silence Is Golden By Aviva Leshaw Illustrated by Sarah Jessica Osburn E Aviva Leshaw, 13 Teaneck, New Jersey Sarah Jessica Osburn, 12 Lindley, New York very day, when I arrive home, I step o the bus after chatting loudly with my friends. The bus engine roars, and the passengers voices swell, and then the wheels begin to turn. And I watch over my shoulder as I walk up the drive. The bus shrinks in size as it trundles down the treelined street. And now, the only things heard are the faint sound

The bus shrinks in size as it trundles down the treelined street document, and an audience erupts into applause. And yet, all the while, I stand in my quiet little bluetiled kitchen, the silence enveloping me. And at that moment, I may not be adorned with diamond rings and bracelets, but I am the richest person in the world. Why Because silence is golden. n o v em berdece mber 2008 47

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