My Elementary School Writings

Today I rediscovered a pile of old papers of mine from elementary school in my parents' closet. My mom always liked to keep samples of my writing so I could be able to read them later. I am very glad she did so because I found it entertaining to read the off-the-wall stories young me used to imagine. While reading through my writing, I was surprised at how dark some of my writing was. I had no recollection of ever writing them. I hope you will enjoy reading a few of them as well!

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"Dada"

by 10-year-old Michelle

     Deep inside the heart of a South African jungle in a small clearing, lived a Native African girl with a beautiful long braid. The girl was an orphan and had run here to escape the bustle and violence of her poor village on the outskirts of Africa. To live in the peace and beauty of her native land was the girl's life-long goal. She was only 16 years old but already knew how to forage and to survive in the wilderness.

     The girl's name was Dada. Dada is a traditional African name for girls. Dada means: girl with curly hair. Dada' mother had long beautiful curly hair, exactly like Dada's hair, and her name was the same too. When Dada's mother passed away, Dada couldn't bear to look at her own curly hair. She couldn't withstand all of those memories about her mother overflowing her head. One day, after she couldn't bear her hair any longer, she decided to braid it.

    Before she braided, she washed her silky, curly hair as she washed away her tears. When Dada began to braid her hairy, she felt weak, as she braided more and more, she felt stronger. Finally when she was finished braiding her hair, she was as strong and everlasting as her braid.

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"The Village of Okrah"

by 9-year-old Michelle

     As she stumbled while fleeing away in the crowded streets of the city, the rain poured down, casting shadows over her eyes. The rain thoroughly soaked her clothing, so the girl threw off her apron to cast off some weight and kept on running. The poor orphan girl was trying to escape the stressful village ruled under the tyrant Okrah.

     All of the sudden, she was startled by an unfamiliar sight. It was the exit gates out of the land ruled by Okrah. She had finally found them! She rushed out of Okrah trying to lose the guards chasing after her. She turned a sharp turn and ran as far as she could. Then she rested.

     She woke up to the smell of fresh biscuits with jam. Where was she?

     A lady that looked like a grandma greeted her. Before anything else, she stuffed a biscuit down the poor orphan's mouth. The flavor tasted nothing like a biscuit. The girl managed to swallow it down her throat though.

     The quiet lady, saying nothing more, massaged the girl's blistery hands and feet and dried the girl's clothing. She handed the girl a new apron that was very unlike her other one. It was all starched and crumbly.

     After making sure that the girl was healthy and safe, she croaked, "My name is Anne Roathe and who should you be?"

     The girl answered, " I have no name, father, mother, house, friend, belongings, or," she whispered quietly, "soul". 

     The old lady laughed. Her laugh sounded like the creaking of the walls in her little cottage. 

     She said to the girl, "Of course you have a soul!"

     The girl said quietly, "Okrah took it away from me."

     The old lady stopped laughing and almost choked on the biscuit she was engulfing. While gasping for air she replied, "Okrah is a greedy, cruel man, but he can't steal souls".

     She paused.

     Then she asked, "Did you really escape his village?"

     "Yes."

     The old lady pushed her out of her house and punched her. Her punch had no effect. It was as if someone threw a wet sponge at her.

     However the girl looked so sad that it appeared as if the lady had broken her bones. The old lady had shattered the girl's confidence of finding her dream village.

     It was raining outside still. No one could see the tears that blurred the poor girl's face. She was a nobody. Forevermore.

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" The 'Place' "

By 10-year-old Michelle

     As the space creatures approached us, we ducked into the spaceship. We could hear those "aliens" chant a wicked song too wicked to hear. We covered our ears. "We are aliens here to come and get you! Get You! And eat your spirits and turn your hearts into us. If you come with us -- wait-- you have to come with us. You must turn into dust like us!"

     I, who looked very horrified at that moment, terrifingly lifted my hand to cover my face... BANG, BANG, BANG! Bad. Bad. Bad. Janet hit the lever. the door opened and the alien dust creatures fought us. Trying to force us to go with them to the "place" with them. Trying to hit them was pointless. The dust brushed through the gaps between our fingers. It did them no harm. Oh. No. More aliens approaching. Janet and I tried using all the controls in the spaceship to close the door and fight back. It was too late! Janet pushed that button and that door would be open for eternity! I tried to fight the aliens off by punching them. No! I could hear a distant sound. Someone was saying something to me.

     "You are too late!" said what I thought to be the alien chief.

     "Ahhhhhhhhh!" I screamed.

     Something cold touched my face... everything blurred. Then came clear. I could see my mother telling me to wake up and stop fighting the air and my blanket. Where was I? Was that a bad dream? Or was this the "place"? I will never know.

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Excerpt from an assignment titled "What Bugs You"
By 9-year-old Michelle

    "I don't seem to like complete silence all that much except for when I am reading or resting. It just bugs me crazy! When people have stared at me and not expressed their thoughts verbally and instead simply smiled at me, it drove me nuts to figure out what their thoughts were, why they had those thoughts, how to react, why they were looking at me,... it was hard for me to digest the information. When people acted in weird ways towards me, I processed it in my brain. I tried to figure out the reason of their behavior towards me before I went to sleep. A person can only take in so much thought before they fall asleep though.

    Thoughts BUG me. They pick away at your brain. They scratch your skin. They interrupt your dreams. Thoughts, worries, facts, quotes, statements, memories swoosh and twirl around your skull knocking on its bony walls trying to get into your brain. Thoughts about life, death, choices, and worries of all kinds usually are the main things that inhabit my head. My head sure looks small on the outside, but in the inside there is a little machine processing long lists of worries and thoughts. The stuff that steams around in my head is the stuff that bugs me all the time, especially when I am tired and while I am resting. 

    Most of my thoughts are based on people and what they do to me during the day. I also worry about tests, life, friends, and family and how I should change myself to become a better person. Sometimes when things bug me, I have a chance to see how to change myself so that something won't bug me anymore. I sometimes find myself becoming a better person when I try to adapt to the environment or situation that is bugging me."