Category Archives: early childhood

A Secret for Two #99WordStories

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The current prompt at the Carrot Ranch is to In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about two who can keep a secret. Is the secret between them or is one keeping a secret from the other. Who are they? What remains unknown? What is revealed? Go where the prompt leads!

Like adults, some children can be better than others at keeping a secret. It may depend on how interesting the secret is and what the consequences may be for telling it. Regardless of age, people often have a desire to share a secret, at least once. And that’s okay, as long as the next person swears they won’t tell. I’ve eavesdropped on a couple of children with a secret to share. I can’t tell you what their secret is though, as, you know, it’s a secret.

Do you want to know a secret?

‘Wanna know something?’

‘What?’

‘A secret.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Billie said I couldn’t tell anyone, but you’re not just anyone. I’ll tell you, but you mustn’t tell anyone. Okay?’

‘Okay.’

Josie bent close and cupped her hand around Daisy’s ear. ‘Swzh, swzh, swzh.’

Daisy giggled and automatically swiped her ear, accidentally hitting Josie on the nose.

‘What d’you do that for?’

‘It tickled. Tell me again, but don’t tickle this time.’

Billie loomed over them. ‘Hey. What’s going on?’

‘Um. Josie’s just telling me something.’

‘Um. It’s not your secret.’

‘It’s another Billie.’

Josie kicked Daisy, purposefully.

‘Why’d you do that?’

How could I write a post about secrets without sharing this wonderful song?

Thank you blog post

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A Place Where Children Once Played #99WordStories

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This week at the Carrot Ranch, Charli Mills challenged writers to In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about a place where children once played. It can be a field, a playground, or any place that attracted children to play. But now it is empty. Abandoned. Go where the prompt leads!

This is my response. I hope you enjoy it.

Locked and Abandoned

Grow up.

Stop those childish games.

Remember your manners.

Cease with the stories.

Fairies aren’t real.

Santa’s for fools with more money than sense.

She was a dutiful daughter and diligent student. She submerged herself in lessons, wiped her mind of childhood nonsense and got on with the serious business of being grownup, though she was not yet nine years old.

She went on to be dux at school and won the university medal but had no friends to celebrate with.

Sometimes, in night’s solitude, she’d hear a jangle of keys and a tiny voice crying, ‘Let me out!’

Thank you blog post

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Note: The collection of stories made in response to the previous prompt Gloria can be read at the Carrot Ranch.

Golden Onions #99WordStories

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This week at the Carrot Ranch, Charli Mills challenged writers to In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about a golden onion. Any golden onion. One planted or harvested. An onion chopped for a meal. How can you use an onion as a prop in a character’s hand? Go where the prompt leads!

In her post, Charli used the analogy of a golden onion for writers as peeling back the layers to find the essence of who we really are as writers, what we write and who reads our work.

I write under a few different hats and I’m not sure any fits quite as well as I’d like. I’m a freelance educational writer, a blogger, an aspiring children’s author and a would-be dreamer of other things too. Too many possibilities. Not enough time.

I generally, but not always, use Charli’s prompts to write about children or to explore situations that may spark an idea for a story for children. I’m always pleased that Charli says, as she reiterated in the current post, that the ‘Carrot Ranch is a place to play, practice, and grow (or peel) your onion’. While Carrot Ranch readers may not be children, they once were (or maybe still are at heart, like me) and some are teachers and parents. I hope my stories speak the child that was or about a child that is.

Thank you for your patience in reading my stories. Here is my response to this week’s prompt ‘Golden Onions’.

No Trust

Jamie was an explorer. He had to find out for himself. ‘No’ was an answer he couldn’t trust. Did it mean, ‘You really shouldn’t” or ‘Of course, go ahead’?

Sometimes he discovered forbidden delights. Like the tiny brown squares Mum hid, saying, ‘No, Jamie. You won’t like it.’ He found he really did. A lot!

Sometimes he discovered the hard way. Like when Dad was cooking and said, ‘Don’t touch. It’s hot.” He found that hot hurts.

When Mum peeled a golden shell off a white ball, she said, ‘No. You won’t like it.’ Should he trust her?

No!

Thank you blog post

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Note: The collection of stories made in response to the previous prompt A Smear of Jam, including mine, can be read at the Carrot Ranch.

A Smear of Jam #99WordStories

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This week at the Carrot Ranch, Charli Mills challenged writers to In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about a smear of jam. Is it across a slice of toast, a white shirt, or something unexpected? The jam could be the focus or detail that ads a twist. Who are the characters with the jam and where are they situated in space and time? Go where the prompt leads!

This is my playful response. I hope you enjoy it.

A Smear of Jam

Teddy hoped he’d get away with it. His paws were clean and his eyes unblinking as he crossed his heart and hoped – well, what could a teddy bear hope? 

Ollie decided to have some fun. He overloaded the slow-thinking Teddy with questions faster than his processing speed.

 “Admit it. You ate my jam.”

“Okay.” Teddy crumbled. “How did you know?”

Ollie smiled. “I don’t need to be Sherlock. You’re the only one here. Besides, you’ve a smear of jam on your nose.”

“Sorry, Ollie.”

“Never mind,” said Ollie. “But be honest next time – or hide all evidence.” They laughed.

Thank you blog post

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Note: The collection of stories made in response to the previous prompt Love Letters to Nature, including mine, can be read at the Carrot Ranch.

Optimism #99WordStories

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This week at the Carrot Ranch, Charli Mills challenged writers to In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story that is optimistic. Feel free to explore optimism in all its forms from a positive mindset to toxic positivity. Is it a heartfelt story or a devious one? So much wiggle room for the optimistic writer. Go where the prompt leads!

In her article, Charli linked to another on Positive Psychology called Positive Mindset: How to Develop a Positive Mental Attitude.

The article includes this definition from Kendra Cherry at Very Well Mind:

“[P]ositive thinking actually means approaching life’s challenges with a positive outlook. It does not necessarily mean avoiding or ignoring the bad things; instead, it involves making the most of the potentially bad situations, trying to see the best in other people, and viewing yourself and your abilities in a positive light.”

The article goes on to list some of the traits of a positive mindset, many (most) of which we encourage in young children. These traits of a positive mindset are often the building blocks for success in life. They include:

Being optimistic and having a go rather than being defeatist and not even trying.

Accepting that things don’t always work out and being willing to learn from what eventuated.

Being strong and resilience when things don’t work out.

Being grateful for all the good things in life.

As a teacher of young children and an aspiring picture book author (I’m optimistic), I know that things don’t always work out as I’d hoped, but I am resilient and never give up, being grateful for the people and opportunities I have in my life.

As both teacher and writer, I always try to respond to Charli’s prompts with children in mind, either as subject or audience or both. This is my optimistic story. I hope you enjoy it.

Building Blocks

Clare’s tower was almost the tallest she’d ever made. One more block would do it.

Harry accidentally backed into it and sent blocks flying.

“Sorry,” said Harry.

“It’s okay. I can build it again. Wanna help?”

“Sure.”

“We need a bigger base. That one was getting wobbly anyway.”

“Let’s go as high as the roof,” said Harry.

They carefully placed the blocks and soon had to stretch on tiptoes.

Clare stood on a chair. Harry passed the blocks.

“We’re outa blocks,” said Harry. “It won’t reach the roof.”

“Let’s build on the table,” said Clare. “It’ll reach the sky!”

Thank you blog post

Thank you for reading. I appreciate your feedback. Please share your thoughts.

Note: The collection of stories made in response to the previous prompt Lady Shadows, including mine, can be read at the Carrot Ranch.

A Lady Shadow #99WordStories

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This week at the Carrot Ranch, Charli Mills challenged writers to In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about a lady shadow. Who is this person and why do they lurk in the shadows. What is the tone and setting for your story? Go where the prompt leads!

I pondered how I could make a connection between children and a lady shadow without sinister overtones that seemed to crawl out from the dark with every beginning. I finally decided to write about the fun that children have playing chase with their shadows, knowing that they can never catch their own. I hope you enjoy it.

Chasing Shadows

Unable to catch their own shadows that stretched across the sand, they jumped on each other’s then dashed for safety in the tumbling waves. As they dived and splashed, the playful wind captured their laughter and carried it far.

Dragging their shadows up compacted wet sand, they compared footprints that waves would soon erase. Where it met dry, another’s shadow immobilised them as might a barbed-wire fence. They cast their eyes along the lady shadow’s length, then squinted upward at the face, obscure and unreadable, haloed by the setting sun.

“It’s time to go,” said mum.

“Coming,” they chorused.

Thank you blog post

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Note: The collection of stories made in response to the previous prompt Rabbits, including mine, can be read at the Carrot Ranch.

Wheels Keep Turning #99WordStories

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This week at the Carrot Ranch, Charli Mills challenged writers to In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about how the wheels keep turning. Are the wheels tangible or metaphorical? Go where the prompt leads!

My first thoughts went to the Rawhide theme song with its ‘Rollin’ rollin’ rollin’’ refrain.

Of course, they’re not wheels that are rollin’, so that song wouldn’t do. But how wonderful to see these actors, who looked so old when I was a child, look not much more than children to me now.

My next thought was of Proud Mary and her big wheel that kept turning.

But that wouldn’t do either.

I wanted to return to my girls Amy and Lucy and their little red convertible from previous stories but couldn’t decide how. You could say the wheels were turning but I wasn’t getting anywhere. Fortunately, I thought of a third song about wheels.

That was more my style and this is my story. I hope you enjoy it.

The Wheels of the Limo

“The wheels of the bus go —. No, wait. The wheels of the limo go round and round, round and round —”

“Why’d ya stop?”

“I didn’t stop. We’re stuck.”

“But the wheels are turning.”

“Must be something underneath. Okay. Everybody out.”

Teddy, Ollie, Ellie, Monkey and Bunny piled out. They watched as Amy hoisted the little red convertible for Lucy to check underneath.

“There’s a rock,” said Lucy. She reached under, withdrew the culprit, and hurled it into the shrubs.

“All aboard!” she called.

The passengers settled back in, and everyone sang, “The wheels of the limo …”

Thank you blog post

Thank you for reading. I appreciate your feedback. Please share your thoughts.

Note: The collection of stories made in response to the previous prompt Bones, including mine, can be read at the Carrot Ranch.

I See the Light in You #99WordStories

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This week at the Carrot Ranch, Charli Mills challenged writers to In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story that references “I see the light in you.” You can use the phrase or demonstrate it in a story. Who is shining and why? Who is observing or reacting? What is the setting? Go where the prompt leads!

In the post, Charli explained the prompt as being inspired by ‘the beautiful Ojibwe greeting of “aanii.” It means, “I see the light in you.”’ Charli suggested it was a great way to greet people, to see their light and avoid judging them. I imagined it as a saying shared by a family over generations. This is a different response from my recent playful  ones. I hope it works, nonetheless.

Gran’s Inside Light

Jamie squeezed his hands and clenched his knees, as if that might still his churning belly and stop his heavy heart from falling. Like recycled paper, his thoughts were all mushed up. They said Gran was sick. She mightn’t get better. What did that even mean? Gloom dragged his face into a frown.

“You can see her now,” said Mum. Jamie looked up, questioning. Mum simply nodded. Jamie tentative step-by-stepped, hopeful, fearful, step-by-step.

“Gran?” he whispered. Dull eyes flickered. This isn’t Gran. Gran’s eyes sparkled.

Jamie trembled. “Where’s Gran’s inside light?” Mum hugged him. “In you and everywhere now.”

I missed responding to Charli’s previous prompt due to lack of time and imagination. However, I decided to write a sequel to Gran’s Inside Light with that prompt in mind. The prompt was to In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story that expresses the idea, “for the water.” You can find inspiration in water protection movements. Is it a celebration or a dark dystopian warning? Consider your place and the bodies of water that have shaped you. Go where the prompt leads!

Gran’s Light

Jamie sniffled and wiped his face with his sleeve. He and Mum weren’t the only ones crying. Everyone at Gran’s graveside was crying. Even the umbrellas cried teardrops of rain that fell from darkened skies, as if the whole world was grieving his Gran. As the final words were spoken, the clouds parted to let the sun shine through and paint the biggest and brightest rainbow Jamie had ever seen. He squeezed his mother’s hand and pointed. “Look, Mum. There’s Gran’s light.” Everyone looked. Umbrellas were folded and smiles lit faces with joy remembering a life well-lived and loved.

Thank you blog post

Thank you for reading. I appreciate your feedback. Please share your thoughts.

Note: The collection of stories made in response to the previous prompt For the Water can be read at the Carrot Ranch.

A Ritual Involving Tea #99WordStories

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This week at the Carrot Ranch, Charli Mills challenged writers to in 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about any ritual involving tea. It can be a daily afternoon tea prepared specifically or the reading of tea leaves in a cup. What do you know? What do you imagine? Is your story deep and ponderous or bright and flash? Go where the prompt leads!

As a child, I enjoyed playing with my tea sets. It was fun lining up my toys and having tea parties. I remember two tea sets from my childhood. One was a pretty little floral set made of china. The other was red and white plastic.

I remember sitting on the back steps one day when I was about three, washing my china cups and saucers. Perhaps I was getting ready for a tea party or cleaning up after one. I’m not sure. But while I was sitting there, busily at my work, Dad came out and didn’t see my pretty little cups and stood right on them, smashing them into little pieces. He was very apologetic and, surprisingly, I was very forgiving. He would tell the story many times later about how I’d looked up at him and said, “It’s okay, Dad. You didn’t mean to.” I think the adult me could learn a lot about forgiveness from the little me.

As an adult, I consider a very special treat to be a high tea with its cucumber and smoked salmon finger sandwiches, fresh baked scones with jam and cream, and a selection of petit fours. I have enjoyed a number of these over the years, usually in very special locations for very special occasions.

I remember having one with my mum and other family members to celebrate her 90th birthday at a restaurant she had enjoyed going to with her mother when she was growing up. It was definitely a special treat and an occasion to remember.

I’ve allowed some of these ‘special’ thoughts to influence my response to Charli’s prompt as I add another event to Amy and Lucy’s imaginative play. I hope you enjoy it.

The Tea Party

Ollie said the table looked divine. Teddy agreed, adding the fairy cakes were the prettiest and sweetest he’d ever tasted, and the tea was the perfect temperature. Amy and Lucy beamed. The tea party to welcome the happy couple home from their honeymoon was a success. Everyone was there. It was all going swimmingly, until a balloon popped. Ellie started, upsetting the teapot with her flailing trunk and whipping the cakes from their stand. Monkey screeched. Bunny watched tea puddle under the table.

“I’ve ruined the party,” wailed Ellie.

“It’s okay, Ellie,” said Lucy. “No one’s hurt. Nothing’s broken.”

Thank you blog post

Thank you for reading. I appreciate your feedback. Please share your thoughts.

Note: The collection of stories made in response to the previous prompt Broken Arm, including mine, can be read at the Carrot Ranch.

Broken Arm #99WordStories

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Broken Arm

This week at the Carrot Ranch, Charli Mills challenged writers to In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about a broken arm. What happened? Is there a cause and effect because of the broken arm? Was the injury faked? Why? Go where the prompt leads!

I’m pleased to say that I’ve never had a broken bone. I hope that continues to be true for the rest of my days. Breaks can become more frequent as we age. So far as I know, neither parent had a broken arm, though my brother did when he was five (a big boy fell on him) and my daughter did when she was eleven (an accident at gymnastics caused by a younger child). So, with no personal experience, I’ve stayed with Amy and Lucy and their imaginative play. It’s wet outside, so they’re playing indoors – no red convertible this time.

Teddy’s Broken Arm

The waiting room was crowded. As usual, Doctor Amy was running late.

Nurse Lucy looked at the list. “Teddy!” she called.

Teddy was hugging his arm, trying to stifle tears.

“What appears to be the problem?” asked Doctor Amy, looking over her glasses.

“I think my arm’s broken.”

“Nurse Lucy, we need an x-ray,” said Doctor Amy.

The x-ray agreed with Teddy. Doctor and nurse plastered his arm with plasticene and tied it in a handkerchief sling.

“Lunch time,” said Mum. “Oh, what’s wrong with Teddy?”

“He’s got a broken arm,” said Amy.

“Just a fake one,” said Lucy.

Thank you blog post

Thank you for reading. I appreciate your feedback. Please share your thoughts.

Note: The collection of stories made in response to the previous prompt Mud on the Tires, including mine, can be read at the Carrot Ranch.