Round Robin.

Chatterbox: Inkwell

Round Robin.

Round Robin.

At first the light could only be glimpsed just above the snowy Tiuie Mountains in the south. Then it could been viewed from the village nesting next to the great walls of Yief. Finally, every citezen in Yief could see it from their homes and gasp. Whispers of "What is it?" ran through crowds all pushing to get a better a view at whatever it was. Soon everyone in the city of Yief was crowding round the marketplace where the light could be seen. It was not the three suns that rose in perfect unison, for they had already rose in the east. It was not the old hermit, wandering meaninglessly, for he could never make such a dazzling spectacle with fire, nor with magic. Only the mighty sunbird, creater of the worlds, knew, and he was jealous with his knowledge. A few could pry mere sentences out of the magneficent creature. The sunbird chose confusing words to speak. Words contradicted words, sentences made no obvious sense so the smartest man could not understand the meaning. But the sunbird knew what was to say and what was to be kept secret. As he raised his wings and flew, he waited for them, the people who would bring the end of everything and the others who might save it.   

submitted by Mke, age 11, America
(May 20, 2009 - 6:48 pm)

back to the Inkwell

"I don't know," Lisse heard her mother mumuring to her dad. "It's certainly strange, though."

"An unexplained phenomenon!" exclaimed the excitable Professor Yorlee. "Perhaps with apocolyptic affects!"

Lisse tiptoed out of bed, her toes numb on the cold wooden floor, and saw her mother shudder as she fried flatcakes. "Don't say that, Jortono."

Lisse noted, as she frequently did, how much her parents complemented each other. Jortono was dramatic and full of wonder, while Lilletti was anxious and uptight. It was hard to resist taking advantage of her mother's nervous nature and jumping out from behind the wall with a loud scream or some other such ruckus, but instead she merely walked quietly into the kitchen.

"Lisse," said Mother with false brightness. "Up so soon? Your father hasn't even left yet, and the other children are still sleeping."

"The light from the mountains woke me up," Lisse said. She wasn't afraid to admit that she enjoyed antagonizing her mother ((because seriously, people, ALL of our RR characters are Mary Sues/Gary Stus- we need some slightly abnormal, flawed, even vaguely twisted protagonist!)).

Lilletti's face grew even more pinched. "Flatcakes, Alissiata?" She always called Lisse by her full name when she as upset, as though the extra syllables made up for the angry words that she was biting back.

"With sugar and oranges," replied Lisse cheerfully.

"Sugar and ranges," repeated Lilletti softly, gazing out the window with a faraway look on her face. "Sugar and oranges, when our world might be turned upside-down."

submitted by Mary W., age 11.35, NJ
(May 21, 2009 - 4:38 pm)

Lissie stood next to Johnathan in the courtyard of the school at noon. The suns followed their regular courses while the light had ceased to move. It was as bright as before, if not any brighter, while people stared dumbfounded at it. Lessons for the day were mediocre. Students were often caught looking out the window for a glimpse of the light. Teachers lectured about astology, literature, and mathematics almost unconciously and unenthusicasticly; their mind taken up by the conspicious thought of the light. Finally when the students went out for lunch, everyone decided to look at the light as if it could give a clue as to what is was. Johnatan kept on nagging Lissie to tell him what it was. Lissie responded with "I don't know," and "What do you think it is?" Never the less ((is it one word or three?)), Johnathan questioned Lissie at constant intervals. Johnathan was a boy, as reconized by his name. He had grown beyond the average size of a boy of his age, and his strength was tremendus from working his family's farm. However, Johnathan had a slow mind, as slow and monotonous as Lissie's was fast. Do not let this fool you. Lissie was always the first to graspe things, but always the first to forget. She just could not remember what she learned in the fall when spring came alon, where as Johnathan could remember his first words. Lissie also flew over things so quickly that some, occasioanly many, answers were worng. Johnathan always thought throughly about his problems, and that was a fault. He only answered one question on the final exam because he had thought so deeply about it. Another one of Johnathan's fault was to ask unintelligent questiions. He wanted to learn everything, yet did not rely at all on common sense. It seemed unusual that these two children, opposite in many ways, could have been aquiantinces, much less friends. One thing bonded them together so tightly that nothing could seperate them apart.

submitted by Mke, age 11, America
(June 1, 2009 - 6:42 pm)

and front...

submitted by Mary W.
(May 21, 2009 - 4:39 pm)

Hope this comment willl bring this post to the first page. Smile

submitted by Mke, age 11, America
(May 21, 2009 - 7:18 pm)

The last message didn't bring the post to the front. This is my second try.

submitted by Mke, age 11, America
(May 22, 2009 - 2:07 pm)

((Just to bring the post to the front))

submitted by Mke, age 11, America
(June 5, 2009 - 8:23 pm)

((Nevertheless is one word. So's "whereas."))

"I don't know, Johnathan!" Lisse cried in frustration. "For land's sakes, stop asking stupid questions!" Then, realizing that she sounded like her worrisome mother, she added, a bit more gently, "I mean, I really have no idea. So please, just calm down."

Johnathan appeared to ponder this awhile, and then said, "Yes. Yes, I suppose you're right."

"Yes," Lisse agreed, "I suppose that I am."

There was an awkward silence between the two for a few minutes.

 

submitted by Mary W., age 11.4, NJ
(June 6, 2009 - 10:23 am)