Thursday, October 21, 2010

Celeste's Short Story

Here's one of Celeste's writing assignments, done with very little assistance (maybe 1%) from Allie. Read it, pretty darn good for a ten year old - and waaaay better than I could ever muster from the dusty corners of my forty year-old brain.

I sniffed my pencil. It smelled woody and sweaty. In other words, it smelled much like any pencil that has been used all day. “Blah blah blah.” That was all the teacher was saying. “Blah blah blah.” Come on, teacher, I already know how to use quotation marks! I mean, really, can I at least write a story with them? School is boring. Super boring. I rocked back and forth in my chair casually; staring at the average classroom with average desks made of average wood, an average dull teacher wearing average clothes, average kids with average pencils, writing very average things.

Maybe I shouldn’t rock back in my chair, I thought. I could fall and really hurt myself. Well, I guess it’s okay if I’m really careful. I am holding onto my desk. I took a sip of my not-anymore-cold water. It felt nice as it went down. It made my stomach feel heavy, and it seemed to massage my belly. Ahh, I thought. That feels much better. I put my foot under the leg of my chair. Actually, I just put my shoe under it. Then I was able to easily rock myself back and forth. It felt nice being partially elevated, too.

I sighed. Now what to do? I mean, other than listen to the teacher tell us about stuff I learned in 2nd grade! Hmm… maybe if I break my pencil, I can be excused from this horrible boringness for at least a second. Okay, I’ll give it a try. I raised my hand and broke my pencil.

“Yes, Celeste?”

“Can I sharpen my pencil?”

“Of course you can!” the teacher exclaimed. As I walked over to the pencil sharpener, relief coursed through my body. Before I had been overwhelmed with monotony, but now I was as happy as a dog that was about to eat a big, juicy steak, topped with another big, juicy steak. Whzzzz… went the pencil sharpener, drowning out the dreary teacher’s dreary speech. Hey-dog, I thought. It would be cool if we could bring our pets to school. I remembered my pets: Juno, a yellow Labrador retriever, and Alpha, a betta fish who was scared of everything. Hey-fish. It would be cool if we had fish tanks on our desks, or even cooler, fish tanks built into our desks. Hey-tanks. It would be the coolest if we could have terrariums and aquariums surrounding our desks. They would have snakes, frogs, fish, bugs, lizards, and salamanders in them.

My train of thought disappeared as I walked back to my seat, and I started to rock back and forth in my chair, forgetting what I had thought earlier about rocking back in my chair being dangerous. Then I rocked too hard. I tried to stop my fall with my arms, but I couldn’t. I remembered when I had been like this before. I was at a party and I tripped on a gift. I couldn’t stop myself, because falling is a quick event, but to the person falling it’s as slow as a snail crossing your driveway, giving the person the illusion that he or she has all the time in the world to catch his or her fall. While, in reality, he or she doesn’t even have enough time to move their arms forward. In addition, that party had delicious ice cream. I could almost taste it. Mmmm… Suddenly, I was on the ground, and my classmates were staring at me. My friend asked if I was okay.

“I’m okay,” I replied. My head and back stung from the fall, but overall I was fine. I checked my watch. 10:30. Wow. It was the same time as it was when I was making my point (in my head) about how boring school was. Am I a snail crossing a driveway or what?


Anonymous said...

really good!

Anonymous said...

Grandma and Grandpa are very proud of our little author!

Anonymous said...

What a Creative Mind! The work of a 5th grader -- Amazing! The other Grandma and Grandpa.

Anonymous said...


Truly enjoyed your short story. In fact,amazed is a better description of how I felt as I read it.

If you write another story, please send it to me.

Love to You!

Grandpa Herzog