tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59758895772531160902024-03-14T05:16:51.092-07:00Broomstick BooksChildren's Illustrations & Literature
Volume IBroomstick Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04117076805712071334noreply@blogger.comBlogger7125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5975889577253116090.post-46625169630784827412009-10-17T12:55:00.000-07:002010-05-26T10:42:28.382-07:00Table of Contents<div id="ms__id306" style="font-family: georgia;"><div style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><u>Literature</u></b></span></div><span style="font-size: 100%;"><b><span style="color: black;"><u> </u></span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 100%;"><b><span style="color: black;"><u> </u></span></b></span></div><div style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 100%;"><i></i></span><span style="font-size: 100%;"><b>Rebecca Huggins <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;">(featuring artwork by Arthur Rackham)</span> <br />
</b><a href="http://broomstickbookshinynewshoes.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-style: italic;">Shiny New Shoes </span></a> <br />
<i><a href="http://broomstickbooks1.blogspot.com/2009/10/escape-to-woods.html">Escape to the Woods</a></i></span></div><div style="font-family: georgia;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 100%;"><b>David P</b></span><span style="font-size: 100%;"><b>erlmutter</b></span><span style="font-size: 100%;"><b></b> <span style="font-style: italic;">(featuring artwork by Georges Barbier)</span> <br />
<i><a href="http://broomstickbooksegypt.blogspot.com/">A Little Egypt (Yin-Yang!)</a></i></span></div><div style="font-family: georgia;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 100%;"><i><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></i></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 100%;"><b>V. Ulea</b></span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 100%;"><i><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span> (featuring artwork by Izya Sholsberg) <br />
<a href="http://broomstickbooksdeathofstar.blogspot.com/">Death of a Star</a></i></span> <br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 100%;"><b>Jeffrey J. Carey</b></span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 100%;"><i></i></span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: italic;">(featuring artwork by Jessie Wilcox Smith)</span> <br />
<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 100%;"><i><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"> <a href="http://broomstickbooksursaminor.blogspot.com/">Ursa Minor</a></span></span></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 100%;"><b>M.J. Nicholls </b><i>(featuring artwork by N.C. Wyeth)</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 100%;"><i><a href="http://broomstickbooks1.blogspot.com/2009/10/cooperating-with-ghosts.html">Cooperating with Ghosts</a> </i><i><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span></span></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 100%;"><i><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span></span></i><b>Laury A. Egan</b><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><b> </b>(featuring artwork by Vincent van Gogh)</span></span></span><br />
<a href="http://broomstickbooks1.blogspot.com/2009/10/stars-of-august.html"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 100%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 100%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.do">The Stars of August</a></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 100%;"><b>Jenny Moore</b><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><i> (featuring artwork by Gustave Do<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">r</span></i></span></span></span><meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" http-equiv="Content-Type"></meta><meta content="Word.Document" name="ProgId"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Generator"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Originator"></meta><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CBecca%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CBecca%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx" rel="themeData" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CBecca%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml" rel="colorSchemeMapping" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></link> <m:smallfrac m:val="off"> <m:dispdef> <m:lmargin m:val="0"> <m:rmargin m:val="0"> <m:defjc m:val="centerGroup"> <m:wrapindent m:val="1440"> <m:intlim m:val="subSup"> <m:narylim m:val="undOvr"> </m:narylim></m:intlim> </m:wrapindent><style>
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</style><i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">é</span></i><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 100%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;">)</span></span></span></m:defjc></m:rmargin></m:lmargin></m:dispdef></m:smallfrac><br />
<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 100%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><a href="http://broomstickbooks1.blogspot.com/2009/10/curses.html"><i>Curses</i></a></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 100%;"><i><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 100%;"><i><a href="http://broomstickbooksegypt.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></a></i></span><br />
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</style><span style="font-size: 100%;"><b></b></span></m:defjc></m:rmargin></m:lmargin></m:dispdef></m:smallfrac></a></div><div id="ms__id419" style="color: #274e13; font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><u>Artwork</u></b></span></div><div id="ms__id332" style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 100%;"> <br />
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<div id="ms__id310"><span style="font-size: 100%;"><b></b></span></div><span style="font-size: 100%;"><b>Shona MacDonald</b></span></div><div id="ms__id311" style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 100%;"><i><a href="http://broomstickbooksart1.blogspot.com/2009/10/halloween-moon.html">Bookplate</a></i></span></div><div id="ms__id492" style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 100%;"><i><a href="http://broomstickbooksart1.blogspot.com/2009/10/halloween-moon_16.html">Halloween Moon</a></i></span></div><div id="ms__id312" style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 100%;"><i><a href="http://broomstickbooksart1.blogspot.com/2009/10/secret-life-of-cats.html" style="font-family: georgia;">Secret Life of Cats</a> <br />
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</i></span></div><div id="ms__id423"><i></i></div><div id="ms__id421"><i></i></div><div id="ms__id313"><i></i></div><div id="ms__id303"></div><div id="ms__id496"></div><div id="ms__id584"></div>Broomstick Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04117076805712071334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5975889577253116090.post-35096649745747875412009-10-16T08:23:00.000-07:002009-10-25T08:26:01.220-07:00Shiny New Shoes<div id="ms__id441"><em>by Rebecca Huggins</em></div><div id="ms__id442"> </div><p><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Are you not ashamed of caring so much for the making of money and for fame and prestige, when you neither think nor care about wisdom and truth and the improvement of your soul?</span></em></p><p align="right"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">--Socrates 470 BC-399 BC</span></em></p><p align="left"><br /><span style="font-size:180%;"><strong>W</strong></span>hen I was five years old, I asked Mama for a beautiful pair of <em>zapatos</em>. They were red and clicked when you walked in them. Mama hadn’t the heart to tell me no, and every day when we’d go into town, we’d stop at the little shop’s window and look in at those mesmerizing shoes. That was the first time I realized that we were poor. And when you realize something like that, other things you’d never noticed before begin to draw your attention as well. Like the clothes I wore with their many patches and familiar scents; the pair of shoes I donned every morning—the color nearly faded entirely—was, in fact, my only pair. And then you realize that you aren’t like the other children with their shiny new <em>bicicletas</em> and <em>juegos</em>. And you begin to see yourself on the other side of the glass, like it’s not really your world at all; you begin to expect very little out of life and you learn to not ask for things anymore for Christmas or birthdays. </p><p align="left"><br />So when Maricela’s third birthday came around, nobody really mentioned how nice it would be to buy her a <em>muñeca</em>. And while we didn’t have much, birthdays went far from unnoticed in our family. When I came home from school that day, everyone was busy preparing for Maricela’s party. Edmundo and Adalina, my brother and sister, were decorating the small den with red and gold streamers, and my mother, Estrella, was busy preparing a beautiful birthday cake, the ingredients for which she’d been collecting for a year. My father, Ernesto, would probably not be home until late that evening. He was working at the old textile factory downtown in Tamaulipas, México that emitted an interminable stream of gray smog out of its tall smoke stacks that made the hot city even hotter on a breezeless summer day. Still, we’d make him a place at the table and cut him a big piece of cake, even if he wouldn’t eat it until late that night.<br /></p><div id="ms__id440"><a href="http://broomstickbookshinynewshoes.blogspot.com/">Read More!</a></div>Broomstick Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04117076805712071334noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5975889577253116090.post-58640496931639213452009-10-15T08:45:00.000-07:002010-01-08T14:40:58.126-08:00Escape to the Woods<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhndSRP4P7hE63bNIL_rCmCKbGONIZU2nQ9NB1EpfM_kLqY_ItN3ED020LWqROOBZvFHUfRu5Z8kJ6L8kSrBmlXTAn44_5fBSpfckmWdIV-CXb2kT7sapXSYpc_9suUhPIrGB-PuNnRRIz/s1600-h/3482146258_71d706ae20.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 204px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhndSRP4P7hE63bNIL_rCmCKbGONIZU2nQ9NB1EpfM_kLqY_ItN3ED020LWqROOBZvFHUfRu5Z8kJ6L8kSrBmlXTAn44_5fBSpfckmWdIV-CXb2kT7sapXSYpc_9suUhPIrGB-PuNnRRIz/s320/3482146258_71d706ae20.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424502658728962530" border="0" /></a><em>by Rebecca Huggins<br /><br /></em><div id="ms__id538"><em></em> </div><div id="ms__id505"></div><div id="ms__id508"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;">I</span></strong>nto the woods,</div><div id="ms__id507">deep, deep, deeper.<br />The darker and darker it gets.<br />The night grows cold,<br />And the trees loom ominously like giants.<br />Their arms are long and boney,<br />Their fingers like claws,<br />They reach out blindly to find us.<br />On we go now, deeper still,<br />And slowly, out of the darkness,<br />A strange little tune dances above the night air<br />Whispering words quite forgotten:<br />The yowl of black cats,<br />The flittering of strange bats,<br />And things too horrible to mention.<br />Yet in this strange place, <br /><div style="text-align: left;">We make our escape </div>To worlds quite seldom visited.</div><div id="ms__id544"> </div><br /><div id="ms__id509"></div><em><span style="font-size:85%;">©2010 Rebecca Huggins. All rights reserved.</span></em><br /><div id="ms__id511">_________________________________</div><div id="ms__id512"><strong><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);font-size:130%;" >About the Author</span></strong></div><div id="ms__id543"> </div><br />Rebecca Huggins is a graduate from East Tennessee State University where she received her master's degree in education, and is the publisher and editor-in-chief of Black <a href="http://blacklanternpublishing.blogspot.com/">Lantern Publishing</a> and its imprints, <a href="http://broomstickbooks.blogspot.com/">Broomstick Books </a>and <a href="http://crowsnestmagazine.blogspot.com/">Crow's Nest Magazine</a>. She holds a literature degree in English from King College. When she isn't writing, reading, or editing, she's spending time with her husband, two dogs and cat, watching movies and listening to Swedish rock bands.Broomstick Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04117076805712071334noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5975889577253116090.post-84768819039275939182009-10-14T08:54:00.000-07:002009-10-25T08:58:05.910-07:00A Little Egypt (Yin-Yang!)<div id="ms__id562"><em>by David Perlmutter</em></div><div id="ms__id577"></div><div id="ms__id576"><span style="font-size:180%;"><strong>T</strong></span>ess Bloch shook the long hair on her head from the glasses on her twelve year old face, looked at the piece of paper she had just been handed, and groaned in a way that was easily audible.</div><div id="ms__id564"><br />“You have got to be kidding!” she said.</div><div id="ms__id566"><br />“I am not!” said Raymond Chan, opposite her in the editor’s chair of the Gordon, the creatively named newspaper run by the students of Gordon Korman Middle School, where Tess was both reporter and student.</div><div id="ms__id568"><br />Tess groaned again, glaring at the paper—and the name etched there—with dread. Laura Block. Tess could hardly conceal her discontent from a less than sympathetic Raymond. </div><div id="ms__id570"><br />“Come on, Tess!” Raymond said. “This is a prime assignment! Just the kind of thing you’ve been bugging me about for weeks! How often does it happen that a real life, fully preserved Egyptian mummy comes around to a little tank town like this? You should be grateful for the opportunity!”</div><div id="ms__id572"><br />“I am, Ray!” said Tess, fully aware of the graveness in her editorial voice. “But do I have to keep getting paired up with Larry? Isn’t it possible that we could get another photographer for the paper?”</div><div id="ms__id573"><br />Laura Block—familiarly known as “Larry” was the bane of Tess’ existence—or at least she was at this time in Tess’s life. She was, after all, the complete opposite of the scholarly, bookish, high-achieving Tess. Tall, thin, and angular—unlike the short and slightly pudgy Tess—Larry was a tomboy par excellence, excelling at every sport or game at Korman that did not involve a brain (as Tess pointed out to others when Larry was not around). But where our purposes are concerned, she was an excellent photographer, noted for always—always—getting the shots that were needed, regardless of the obstacles in her path. This was where Larry and Tess came to a parting of the ways, since Larry was not above risking her life—and Tess’, for that matter—in pursuit of the ever-elusive “perfect shot”. </div><div id="ms__id575"></div><div id="ms__id574"><a href="http://broomstickbooksegypt.blogspot.com/">Read More!</a></div>Broomstick Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04117076805712071334noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5975889577253116090.post-25654298360559365192009-10-13T06:02:00.000-07:002010-03-09T06:31:26.453-08:00Cooperating with Ghosts<meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" http-equiv="Content-Type"></meta><meta content="Word.Document" name="ProgId"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Generator"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Originator"></meta><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CBecca%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"></link><o:smarttagtype name="place" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype name="City" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags"></o:smarttagtype><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CBecca%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx" rel="themeData"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CBecca%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml" rel="colorSchemeMapping"></link> <m:smallfrac m:val="off"> <m:dispdef> <m:lmargin m:val="0"> <m:rmargin m:val="0"> <m:defjc m:val="centerGroup"> <m:wrapindent m:val="1440"> <m:intlim m:val="subSup"> <m:narylim m:val="undOvr"> </m:narylim></m:intlim> </m:wrapindent><style>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcSNtQYCSJE3Zrfw7lem8gVPzbp8kgVzDmInNR88LW3BhiT4FakM_GptkNxnBLS0ffPpDzRZ4Zw0wwe7ULsnNPkO8E6_0_cl-_fnwaHsW6i1hI8DB39j2Y4DhJLFABps30GZEnKamgpecN/s1600-h/Wyeth+Cloud.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcSNtQYCSJE3Zrfw7lem8gVPzbp8kgVzDmInNR88LW3BhiT4FakM_GptkNxnBLS0ffPpDzRZ4Zw0wwe7ULsnNPkO8E6_0_cl-_fnwaHsW6i1hI8DB39j2Y4DhJLFABps30GZEnKamgpecN/s320/Wyeth+Cloud.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"> <i>by M.J. Nicholls</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><i><br />
</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">Jennifer kissed her daughter Alison goodnight. She reminded her she was safe and how the ghosts were too busy haunting bad people to bother with little girls. It was important mummy kept the customers in the Dreghorn Travelodge safe from dirt and rubbish, otherwise the ghosts might be put off and not haunt them!</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">Alison curled into bed beside her FM radio as the front door slammed shut. She hated when her mother left her alone for the night, but if she didn’t go to work, they wouldn’t be allowed to eat or sleep in a comfy bed. She twiddled the knob on her radio, alighting upon the soothing sound of Classic FM.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">A slight hiss crackled through the speaker. Alison was frightened of hiss: she thought ghosts were trying to escape and pull her into the afterlife. She wasn’t ready for the afterlife yet, not like her daddy. Wriggling under the sheets, the hiss intensified until the music was gone, replaced instead with a soft breathing.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“<i>Hello</i>? <i>Hello</i>?” the Voice asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">Alison was petrified. Her comforting blanket of beautiful music was gone and the ghosts were drawing nearer. She wanted her mummy so badly, but she was busy keeping the customers safe all night, and wouldn’t be back until morning. It would be too late then. The ghosts would have eaten her soul, and she’d disappear, just like her daddy.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Go away,” she murmured.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“<i>Is someone there? I heard someone… it’s OK, please talk to me</i>.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf2ZUV2rUh7lE7cz80JXgPaaUyRxKX_1ckJsB2itf1CZ3srdByI847yZ8cxH7jxQEXJJ6OP-k_xI9qxpcjCFfUis96QkmqGBne54Dz6eq_ruCzeDNPPu18sB60xYu5z0aBL7syUpbN68lM/s1600-h/Rip-van-Winkle-L.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf2ZUV2rUh7lE7cz80JXgPaaUyRxKX_1ckJsB2itf1CZ3srdByI847yZ8cxH7jxQEXJJ6OP-k_xI9qxpcjCFfUis96QkmqGBne54Dz6eq_ruCzeDNPPu18sB60xYu5z0aBL7syUpbN68lM/s320/Rip-van-Winkle-L.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">The Voice asked this twice, the second time with a softer register that quelled Alison’s fear. She rolled the duvet down, peeping her head out the covers.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“H-H-Hello?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“<i>Hello! There is someone there! How are you? My name is Eamonn</i>.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Amen?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“<i>No, Eamonn. Ay-mon. Who am I speaking to please</i>?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Alison.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“<i>Hello Alison! I am from the future, pleased to meet you</i>.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“The future? How can you be from the future?” Alison asked, calm enough in the Voice’s presence to take the risk.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“<i>Because I am. Do you not believe me</i>?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">Alison paused as the hiss faded. The voice was clear now – it sounded like her cousin Pete.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“No… I believe you.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“<i>Good. Listen, Alison, I want you to do something for me, OK? Things aren’t too happy for us here in the future, and we need your help. Do you think you can help us, Alison</i>?” </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Um… sure.” She clasped the duvet to her chin.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWEa4wP5UeWKGO3VWHO2KjDZmin_8EAvmd804qGSrJxK9H4cnSV0Dyz_DUsr6XgSrO7VdZNokHoT0eK2UeN9axeYx23q29NgKHFLU-RvLCpN_LD-nWTGlldlambP7JUQg7Pnhrlx5_rOqD/s1600-h/AIH7_loner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWEa4wP5UeWKGO3VWHO2KjDZmin_8EAvmd804qGSrJxK9H4cnSV0Dyz_DUsr6XgSrO7VdZNokHoT0eK2UeN9axeYx23q29NgKHFLU-RvLCpN_LD-nWTGlldlambP7JUQg7Pnhrlx5_rOqD/s320/AIH7_loner.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“<i>In the future, Alison, there are a nasty race of beasts known as the Haggistompers – the Hags for short. Now, these beasts, Alison, they like to eat little girls from <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Edinburgh</st1:place></st1:city>, like yourself. They also eat anything that is deliciously Scottish – shortbread, tartan, the novels of Iain M. Banks. What I need you to do, Alison, is I need you to come into the future to help me. Will you come and help me, Alison</i>?” </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">Alison thought of the afterlife, where her daddy went after the money men came and took him away, and remained silent.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“No.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“<i>Please, Alison. We are suffering here in the future. We need your help. If you do not help us, more of us will die. Can you be brave for us</i>?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“OK.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">Alison closed her eyes as a pulsing blue light emerged from the radio’s speaker, engulfing her and the bed. The light felt smooth against her skin, like the feel of her mummy’s bathrobe after an evening’s wash. When she opened her eyes, she was still in bed, but in a dark room. A gang of men in berets and black-and-white striped tops were staring at her.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr4XksQpAY4zsvTqk8lpLrFDAeY1Jf0aULQbr7t6NcM5O5BQhDXqlUnHVTOfxVLSrFN6N8mqIY18gfkxzGdSrLX-A7SunHscUGnFNY6LTpyezVFmoxO5ac5fqnsv58VzNj2wAdp4NCG04X/s1600-h/NC_Wyeth_the_Indian_in_His_Solitude_3.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr4XksQpAY4zsvTqk8lpLrFDAeY1Jf0aULQbr7t6NcM5O5BQhDXqlUnHVTOfxVLSrFN6N8mqIY18gfkxzGdSrLX-A7SunHscUGnFNY6LTpyezVFmoxO5ac5fqnsv58VzNj2wAdp4NCG04X/s320/NC_Wyeth_the_Indian_in_His_Solitude_3.png" width="209" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Hello, Alison,” the Voice said. A man who looked nothing like her cousin Pete appeared. He was wearing a smile and a ring of onions around his neck.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Hello.” She spoke softly. The men around her were scary – their eyes fixed on her with gloomy determination.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Alison. Thank you so much for coming. Now, listen very carefully. We have the Mother Haggistomper locked in a room behind us. You see that room?” He pointed to a door guarded by five burly men.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Mmm-hmm.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Now, the Haggistompers feed off Scottish stereotypes. Do you know what that means? We are dressed as stereotypical Frenchmen to throw them off the scent, but they are clever, Alison. They sniff out Scottishness. What we need you to do is to get inside the stomach of the Mother and give whoever is controlling the beast a special message. Could you do that for us?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">Alison was scared. She wanted to help the sad-looking men, but it was cold, she was far from home, and she wanted her mummy.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Please, Alison. Will you be brave for us?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">She thought about what her mummy had told her when the money men took her daddy away: <i>be brave for me, sweetheart.</i> She looked at the dour-faced men in their stripy tops and hats, shivering in the cold, then into the kind eyes of the Voice, and nodded.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Thank you, Alison. We are so grateful.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm_WY7Ri6MyYc3cXYKxQqGE_e_FaRYOHQAfSaRab2v880romRuhLQZjsEWRGqCUA59oDhkPDOf6OhS0FR-4X1jZHAp_t8i5BEIPeI7mo7CHgaALO8sSLXdov7mVtQzF9HqBMBavxGh3zuw/s1600-h/wyeth06-big.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm_WY7Ri6MyYc3cXYKxQqGE_e_FaRYOHQAfSaRab2v880romRuhLQZjsEWRGqCUA59oDhkPDOf6OhS0FR-4X1jZHAp_t8i5BEIPeI7mo7CHgaALO8sSLXdov7mVtQzF9HqBMBavxGh3zuw/s320/wyeth06-big.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">The Voice lifted Alison from the bed. He asked her to put on a tartan blazer and sprayed her with a mixture of fish batter and lager. It smelled exactly like her daddy. A bunnet with red hair was placed ceremoniously upon her head, covering her short auburn locks. The Voice whispered the special message twice in her ear. She knew something awful was about to happen, but she remembered: <i>be brave for me, sweetheart.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Ready, Alison?” </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Yes.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">The Voice led Alison to the guarded room, pushed the doors open, and gestured inside. <i>Be brave</i>. She stepped into the darkness. From the gloom, a monstrous beast, its skin made from haggises, its mouth dripping Irn-Bru, emerged from the shadows. Alison paused. <i>Be brave, sweetheart</i>. She stood as she had before the money men, defiant in the face of evil.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">The Mother Haggistomper bent its neck down, shedding Tunnocks snowballs from its nose, and opened its mouth wide. Alison peered inside: it was as though the monster was beckoning her in. Closing her eyes, the monster swiped her up, swallowing her whole. She slid down its throat, coasting down a flume of Irn-Bru, coming to land on soft bed of Mackies ice-cream.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">Before her, in tartan skirts and painted blue-and-white faces, were one hundred little girls, hunched against the stomach wall. It was made from tablet. They stood stock still, their eyes goggled at Alison as she walked past, approaching a door marked YON CONTROL MITHER.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">She tapped on the door. A loud belch could be heard inside, followed by a protracted grumble. An obese man in a string vest appeared at the door.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQohq-K6AIITl7TmaX_4BSxgBJcCeake8_-X0vPYft3STD2_aqZFPLH0aRELCSNsbymGmLDnuyqgLGvh0FgUgAq7ZEkWCmxGjAnwXzJs_sbS9WRvJE4Tz5xVOFgk8SggK0DPDXsmfl-Cnm/s1600-h/parrish11-big.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQohq-K6AIITl7TmaX_4BSxgBJcCeake8_-X0vPYft3STD2_aqZFPLH0aRELCSNsbymGmLDnuyqgLGvh0FgUgAq7ZEkWCmxGjAnwXzJs_sbS9WRvJE4Tz5xVOFgk8SggK0DPDXsmfl-Cnm/s320/parrish11-big.jpg" width="257" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Whit d’ye want?” he asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“I’ve been sent to give you a message.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Aye? Whit is it?” </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">Alison paused. The man was disgusting. He was fat and ugly like daddy’s friends at the funeral. There were crumbs of haggis around his mouth and a ring of thistles around his neck. He loomed over Alison, his chin casting a large enough shadow to immerse her entire frame.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“They said to tell you that…” – she searched her memory – “…that the tourists have gone, and the… pree-tense is over.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">The man paused. A slogan on his vest read ‘Minister For Tourism’. He cast a solemn glance at Alison.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Is… is it true? Are the tourists really <i>gone</i>? You mean we don’t have to do this anymore? We don’t have to out-Scottish ourselves, year in, year old? Could it <i>really</i> be true?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">Alison could see now that man wasn’t frightening. He had the same lost look in his eyes as the money men: he too was frightened of not being allowed to eat or sleep in a comfy bed. Maybe he too was afraid of being left alone, of being taken into the afterlife.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">With a great whoop of delight, he bounced onto the ice-cream bed, past the children, and began hurling himself against the tablet wall. Soon, a crack opened up in the skin of the beast, and he threw himself out. As he fell, the Voice produced a gun and shot him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“No! No!” Alison cried out. It had happened again, as it had with the money men and her daddy. They had given him no chance to make up his mind. The Voice gestured for Alison to jump. </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLoHwhEr0B6CXdSmIVNzoJO4kv3Tcz0Y7nPEORnVuappGs4_vuecbr7zDbUWxw6BR4EFq0jRK90zqHWkY3Xl8yAAmOQKV07xrM0JQlYyPsQapwg9Hpm-Qay9APkDztrINeEy5YXzJqEGGq/s1600-h/ncw_h1111_1x.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLoHwhEr0B6CXdSmIVNzoJO4kv3Tcz0Y7nPEORnVuappGs4_vuecbr7zDbUWxw6BR4EFq0jRK90zqHWkY3Xl8yAAmOQKV07xrM0JQlYyPsQapwg9Hpm-Qay9APkDztrINeEy5YXzJqEGGq/s320/ncw_h1111_1x.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Come on, Alison! It’s OK! You did it, you helped us!” </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Why… why did you have to shoot him! He didn’t do anything!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“We had to, Alison, we had to. Now, come to me.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“No! No, you didn’t have to shoot him! Why did you have to do that!” She broke down and began sobbing.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Believe us, Alison. It was for his own good. It was for his own good.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">She shuddered as the blue light engulfed her again. Before she could protest, she was back in her room, Classic FM was on the wireless, and the Voice intoned his last message through the music:</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">“<i>Thank you, Alison. You did the right thing</i>.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">_______________________________________________</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-GB">ABOUT THE AUTHOR & ARTIST</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><b>M.J. Nicholls </b></span><meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" http-equiv="Content-Type"></meta><meta content="Word.Document" name="ProgId"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Generator"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Originator"></meta><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CBecca%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CBecca%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx" rel="themeData" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CBecca%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml" rel="colorSchemeMapping" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></link> <m:smallfrac m:val="off"> <m:dispdef> <m:lmargin m:val="0"> <m:rmargin m:val="0"> <m:defjc m:val="centerGroup"> <m:wrapindent m:val="1440"> <m:intlim m:val="subSup"> <m:narylim m:val="undOvr"> </m:narylim></m:intlim> </m:wrapindent><style>
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</style><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">is a callow manboy clacking out experimental, sometimes amusing, but otherwise awkward fiction in Edinburgh, Scotland. He is currently undergoing creative irrigation. His works have been published in Gold Dust Magazine, the Delinquent (UK) and Piker Press and New Paradigm (US).</span></m:defjc></m:rmargin></m:lmargin></m:dispdef></m:smallfrac></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><b>N.C. Wyeth</b> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">(October 22, 1882 – October 19, 1945) was an American artist and illustrator.</span> </div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">During his lifetime, Wyeth created over 3,000 paintings and illustrated 112 books,</span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> 25 of them for </span><i style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_Scribner%27s_Sons" title="Charles Scribner's Sons">Scribner's</a></i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">, which is the work for which he is best-known.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Wyeth was a realist painter. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></div><br />
Broomstick Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04117076805712071334noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5975889577253116090.post-2067744202936693212009-10-12T06:49:00.000-07:002010-03-09T09:08:27.531-08:00The Stars of August<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>and Their Very Special Wish</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>by<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> Laury A. Egan</span></i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></i><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></b> </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" http-equiv="Content-Type"></meta><meta content="Word.Document" name="ProgId"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Generator"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Originator"></meta><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CBecca%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CBecca%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx" rel="themeData"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CBecca%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml" rel="colorSchemeMapping"></link> <m:smallfrac m:val="off"> <m:dispdef> <m:lmargin m:val="0"> <m:rmargin m:val="0"> <m:defjc m:val="centerGroup"> <m:wrapindent m:val="1440"> <m:intlim m:val="subSup"> <m:narylim m:val="undOvr"> </m:narylim></m:intlim> </m:wrapindent><style>
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</style> </m:defjc></m:rmargin></m:lmargin></m:dispdef></m:smallfrac></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1_1gaTnMGIjNkLayv4qoflY8jfmGsNLK8WdUoCq3SzoYTnuo6Qgkpgf-S_LH7iAjX1zCp2cHxI2Fpay2ItYws9V2m_JQG1Vw4JkGmeUdb7PqbekMGecKWoYXCKRevEE0-uJvtEx90UcT3/s1600-h/vangogh-starry_night_ballance1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1_1gaTnMGIjNkLayv4qoflY8jfmGsNLK8WdUoCq3SzoYTnuo6Qgkpgf-S_LH7iAjX1zCp2cHxI2Fpay2ItYws9V2m_JQG1Vw4JkGmeUdb7PqbekMGecKWoYXCKRevEE0-uJvtEx90UcT3/s320/vangogh-starry_night_ballance1.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">It was late on a very clear August night. The Moon was off on a holiday (as moons do from time to time). This left the Stars shining alone in the black summer sky, but they were quite unhappy.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“We cannot see our reflection,” said Altair with a frown and a shake of his yellow head. Altair is the eye in the Eagle constellation. He has especially fine eyesight and is a proud star.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“It is very sad,” agreed Deneb. “We shine down on Earth, but we don’t know if we are beautiful.” Deneb is a bright white star, sailing along in the Swan constellation.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Vega, who is bluish-white, is the Queen of summer stars and lives high overhead in the Lyre constellation. A lyre is a musical instrument like a harp. Vega thought about the problem very seriously. “Perhaps we can ask the Atlantic Ocean to be our mirror.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“That is a fine idea,” replied Arcturus. The other Stars thought so, too. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Arcturus is the sky’s second brightest star next to Sirius, who is on vacation during the summer. Arcturus is reddish-orange and is in the group called The Herdsman. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">-<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Vega was excited and cried out: “I will do it! Tra-la-la!” And so Vega called down to the Atlantic Ocean. “Ocean,” she said, “will you make yourself calm so we can see ourselves?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“No, I’m busy!” huffed the Ocean, who was having fun making mean and nasty storms. The Atlantic loves to make waves and strong winds. It did not care about the Stars. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXy9AYZYryXUaCgvQshhjWu8iYIHqkEPrcJUkvaoKsZL5eKm3MJZ2DCJ2Ng38CfWMeC2b7D5b4X3YJFuLgAy6oUUIqReVe1lAcBagyNdXPggNXw1Vlf05Ia8Qa0mjJuruRikwqm_hffhHt/s1600-h/van-gogh_starry-night-over-the-rhone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXy9AYZYryXUaCgvQshhjWu8iYIHqkEPrcJUkvaoKsZL5eKm3MJZ2DCJ2Ng38CfWMeC2b7D5b4X3YJFuLgAy6oUUIqReVe1lAcBagyNdXPggNXw1Vlf05Ia8Qa0mjJuruRikwqm_hffhHt/s320/van-gogh_starry-night-over-the-rhone.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Vega was surprised at the Ocean. “Please?” she asked again, but the Ocean was no longer listening. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">-<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Well, we shall ask the Sea to help us,” Altair suggested, as he flew to the Mediterranean Sea.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> “Great Dark Blue Water, will you lie flat so we could use you like a glass?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“So sorry,” said the Mediterranean, who could not calm itself. “Two mighty volcanoes are blowing up in the middle of my Sea. It is my job to eat all the rocks and lava that are exploding from the volcano as fast as I can so that the people who live in the towns and villages will not be hurt.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“I see,” replied Arcturus. It was true that it was more important for the Mediterranean Sea to save people than to be a mirror for the stars. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">-<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“We must go to Lake Huron,” Deneb told the other stars. She then went to the Great Lake and politely asked it to be still so that the Stars could see themselves. But Lake Huron was playing hide and seek in fog. The fog was so thick that the Stars could not see the water at all. </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><o:p></o:p></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Come and find me!” laughed the Lake. “Ha! Ha!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY6rwwP458Lj-dKOtb_pOOpdAnVI2_Wr5jB7qx7h-xGKuUGQ6167sOEfusJWPAuaq95NIj0UW0pUtc00vIvntXAOXHODEa4o2d-0wpa3ZD7Wzfv-q9cKkgqz1J4bDF8ZxKVrTz12O3odmW/s1600-h/vangogh4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY6rwwP458Lj-dKOtb_pOOpdAnVI2_Wr5jB7qx7h-xGKuUGQ6167sOEfusJWPAuaq95NIj0UW0pUtc00vIvntXAOXHODEa4o2d-0wpa3ZD7Wzfv-q9cKkgqz1J4bDF8ZxKVrTz12O3odmW/s320/vangogh4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">But since the Stars couldn’t see in the fog, they didn’t want to play with the Lake. They continued on their search.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Altair was twinkling very brightly, or so he thought. But since he could not see himself in the waters of the Earth, he could not behold how handsome he was. “I am disappointed in the Oceans, Seas, and Lakes,” he said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> “Me, too,” agreed the others one by one. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">-<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Surely the Mississippi River will help us,” cried Arcturus. “But Vega should go and ask because she is the Summer Queen.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">And so Vega went to the Mighty Mississippi. “O Big Muddy” (for that is the River’s baby name), “Please show us our reflection!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">But the long River was in a hurry. “I have to run to New Orleans for Carnival, and I’m already late!” (Carnival is a holiday where everyone dresses up in costumes and has parties.) The Mississippi had no time to do as Vega asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Deneb could not believe it. Neither could Vega or Altair or Arcturus.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">-<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Perhaps a simple Stream will be enough,” said Altair. </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">But when they visited a Stream, there had been a terrible thunderstorm earlier in the evening. The Stream was filled to its edges. </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“I am too full and must rush and gush, rush and gush, rush and gush some more,” explained the Stream, whose water was very white with foam and froth.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The Stars sighed with growing sorrow.<b><o:p></o:p></b></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">-<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Arcturus thought and thought. Brightening—which Stars do best—he said, “What about a little Pond?” </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><o:p></o:p></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhugO0dVD4oV4pblqZAHN56-RRP6Dqp8tDT64tw6Hw3kLrttwI_81RiuM0FX_oizi2y3vF2Ob7q71_Q9yoMcJh20iZKcm0INrKHi0gqLVd7zOqQjWJkpHiYKVHnKcJFw-hv55bWCVUXkG2V/s1600-h/the-sower-vincent-van-gogh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhugO0dVD4oV4pblqZAHN56-RRP6Dqp8tDT64tw6Hw3kLrttwI_81RiuM0FX_oizi2y3vF2Ob7q71_Q9yoMcJh20iZKcm0INrKHi0gqLVd7zOqQjWJkpHiYKVHnKcJFw-hv55bWCVUXkG2V/s320/the-sower-vincent-van-gogh.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> “Yes!” nodded Deneb eagerly. “Ponds are very small and should respect us.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">They searched and searched and finally found a little Pond. The water was very green with scum and slime. Even the frogs were not having any fun in the Pond because it was so dirty.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“I have lost my reflection,” explained the little Pond sadly. “If I had one, I would gladly let you use it as a mirror.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The Stars believed the Pond and said goodbye with heavy hearts.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">-</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“What will we do?” wondered Altair. “The Oceans, Seas, Lakes, Streams, and Ponds will not help us.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><o:p></o:p></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The Stars were growing dim with sadness because they found no water to show them their lovely, twinkling lights. They cried large, silver tears which turned into comets and meteors that flew wildly around the black sky. </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“This is terrible!” said Arcturus. “We cannot see how beautiful we are!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">They wept more comets and meteors. Then, from far below, they heard a door close. A tiny child came out of a small red house.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The Stars smiled down their best beams of light so the child could see in the dark. </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_ifsKyugdF5N0dTqK7odP4p_vyyKkZCDi6Q2c99tdpjU4IYg8IczFv79aKJCw8_bip_UbigK18AOay1D5b7hB6rBueOE7yIk2mVjnkn07_ApPHZEPfKIUo0LsDeqV92XqkEZfnWjme1u6/s1600-h/Vincent_Willem_van_Gogh_015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_ifsKyugdF5N0dTqK7odP4p_vyyKkZCDi6Q2c99tdpjU4IYg8IczFv79aKJCw8_bip_UbigK18AOay1D5b7hB6rBueOE7yIk2mVjnkn07_ApPHZEPfKIUo0LsDeqV92XqkEZfnWjme1u6/s320/Vincent_Willem_van_Gogh_015.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“It is very late for you to be out of bed, Child,” Vega said kindly.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“I know,” replied the little girl, “but I heard you talking and wondered who you are.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“We are the four Great Stars of August,” said Vega proudly. “This is Altair, Deneb, and Arcturus. And I am the Queen, Vega.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Pleased to meet you,” the child answered. “My name is Mira.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Mira?” asked Deneb. “That is a Star’s name.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Yes,” agreed Vega. “It means <i>Wonderful</i>.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Mira was very pleased and smiled up happily at the Stars.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“It is very late for a young girl to be out of bed. We did not mean to wake you,” Vega said, but then she sighed. Arcturus, Deneb, and Altair sighed, too.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Mira could tell the Stars were unhappy. She asked them why they were sad. </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Altair, the Eagle star, answered: “We are very old and very wise, and yet we cannot see our reflections anywhere on Earth.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“We have asked the Oceans, Seas, Lakes, Rivers, Streams, and Ponds to help us, but no one can show us if we are beautiful,” Vega explained, with a tear in her eye.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“You <i>are</i> very beautiful!” Mira told them.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">But the Stars had lost some of their twinkle. Mira frowned and thought hard for a few minutes. Then she rushed into her house and ran into her room. Picking up the water glass from the table by her bed, she ran outside, careful not to spill the water. Her eyes were nearly as bright as the Stars. Slowly, she raised her water glass high up above her head. “Look!” she cried. And the stars looked, already growing brighter with curiosity. Inside the glass, the Stars could see themselves dancing joyfully in the water.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4X7hDxyx417fQdT98EMrrWxwrinyTIC6COofJb6ge3u1H9p8huUAHBtfNNIVIbESxqVNofPYsYbVN4mL7QEgYOhJHjByOzvgB-2Yg8s2stXXisa9NPndLim85R8OXuSmbmkihbRD6VjtT/s1600-h/SueBond-17VanGoghRoadMender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4X7hDxyx417fQdT98EMrrWxwrinyTIC6COofJb6ge3u1H9p8huUAHBtfNNIVIbESxqVNofPYsYbVN4mL7QEgYOhJHjByOzvgB-2Yg8s2stXXisa9NPndLim85R8OXuSmbmkihbRD6VjtT/s320/SueBond-17VanGoghRoadMender.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Altair, Deneb, Arcturus, and Vega were so surprised and happy!</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Thank you!” Queen Vega sang joyfully. “My, we are more beautiful than I dreamed! Tra-la-la!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Yes,” agreed Deneb, “Look how pretty I am! All in white!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Altair studied his reflection, turning this way and that. “I have a handsome light,” he exclaimed. “Mira, you have done us a great service. You will be our favorite friend!” </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Arcturus smiled great beams of light. “Every night, we will come and shine on you.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Vega was enjoying her shining sparkle. “You are very special because you truly love us. I think you will grow up to be as beautiful as we are!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Indeed! Your eyes will always be filled with starlight,” Arcturus chimed in.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“I am so glad!” said the girl. “I love you, Stars, more than anything else!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Deneb smiled. “And we shall bring you luck, if you wish upon us.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Thank you,” Mira said politely. “I will.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">-<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt9cdntpX_U8X6PCmEFAu4lxDYAjWR5ChcdaLmjI2Eg4sUc7INHZqiQR4FOloesF7ikiNKiv1c77zBm5sJraqMl9FmbVZg0cBJDvF9xsO9FECziFJCmQ-aXKmKeXGuECCnsngIyIwxLXar/s1600-h/landscape-with-wheat-sheave.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt9cdntpX_U8X6PCmEFAu4lxDYAjWR5ChcdaLmjI2Eg4sUc7INHZqiQR4FOloesF7ikiNKiv1c77zBm5sJraqMl9FmbVZg0cBJDvF9xsO9FECziFJCmQ-aXKmKeXGuECCnsngIyIwxLXar/s320/landscape-with-wheat-sheave.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Now, it is time for all of us to go to sleep,” Vega said, “for soon, the Sun will rise. She is the brightest Star of all. So bright that the rest of us cannot be seen when she has risen.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“That’s rather selfish,” said the girl.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“It is,” agreed Arcturus, who was often jealous of the Sun.</span><i><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></i></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Thank you for your gift of beauty,” said Mira to the Stars.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Thank you for our reflections,” Altair answered, twinkling with good humor. “We will be with you in your glass, to light your dark room.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Mira said goodbye to her new silver friends and went inside her house. In her bedroom, Mira took off her slippers and climbed into her high bed. She pulled up the covers and turned off the light. Then she looked at the table next to her and saw the water glass. Inside, the Stars were playing merrily in the water, their reflections shining their cheerful white lights all around her room. </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Good night,” she whispered. </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOTA7TneZhMue3VyyyTGqusSiXal6gqgtg3Y9lIfOb0IoP6D0zp94MipLVrktcngAQCkI75d3K51tLLC4UKUuv320LrB4cMKz_6bA_I6manOKGyJJTtU5rBrjfMkur201Z31-rSAV6qqYf/s1600-h/8244.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOTA7TneZhMue3VyyyTGqusSiXal6gqgtg3Y9lIfOb0IoP6D0zp94MipLVrktcngAQCkI75d3K51tLLC4UKUuv320LrB4cMKz_6bA_I6manOKGyJJTtU5rBrjfMkur201Z31-rSAV6qqYf/s320/8244.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Pleasant dreams,” the Stars whispered back. </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Happy, Mira fell fast asleep.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">-<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><b style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Hours later, the Sun came up and grinned a big yellow smile, and the sky turned bright blue. All the Stars were hidden, waiting for night when they could come out and play with their new friend, Mira.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" http-equiv="Content-Type"></meta><meta content="Word.Document" name="ProgId"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Generator"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Originator"></meta><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CBecca%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CBecca%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx" rel="themeData" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CBecca%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml" rel="colorSchemeMapping" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></link> <m:smallfrac m:val="off"> <m:dispdef> <m:lmargin m:val="0"> <m:rmargin m:val="0"> <m:defjc m:val="centerGroup"> <m:wrapindent m:val="1440"> <m:intlim m:val="subSup"> <m:narylim m:val="undOvr"> </m:narylim></m:intlim> </m:wrapindent><style>
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<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="text-align: left;"><i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: x-small;">© 2010 Laury A. Egan. All rights reserved. </span></i></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="text-align: left;"><i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: x-small;">_________________________________________________</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: large;">ABOUT THE AUTHOR & ARTIST</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="text-align: left;"><meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" http-equiv="Content-Type"></meta><meta content="Word.Document" name="ProgId"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Generator"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Originator"></meta><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CBecca%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CBecca%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx" rel="themeData"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CBecca%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml" rel="colorSchemeMapping"></link> <m:smallfrac m:val="off"> <m:dispdef> <m:lmargin m:val="0"> <m:rmargin m:val="0"> <m:defjc m:val="centerGroup"> <m:wrapindent m:val="1440"> <m:intlim m:val="subSup"> <m:narylim m:val="undOvr"> </m:narylim></m:intlim> </m:wrapindent><style>
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</style> </m:defjc></m:rmargin></m:lmargin></m:dispdef></m:smallfrac></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>Laury A. Egan</b> though primarily an adult short stories writer, has appeared in journals such as <i>Four Branches Press</i>, <i>Paradigm</i>, <i>Shortbread Stories</i> (Scotland), <i>The Maynard</i>, and (forthcoming) <i>Tryst</i>. In addition to receiving a Pushcart Prize nomination, she has published a full-length poetry collection, <i>Snow,</i> <i>Shadows, a Stranger</i>, in 2009 (FootHills). You can visit Laury on the web at <a href="http://www.lauryaegan.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">www.lauryaegan.com</span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>Vincent van Gogh</b> (30 March 1853 – 29 July 1890) was a Dutch Post-Impressinoist painter whose work had a far-reaching influence on 20th century art <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Modern_art" title="Modern art"></a> for its vivid colors and emotional impact. He suffered from anxiety and increasingly frequent bouts of mental illness throughout his life, and died largely unknown, at the age of 37, from a self-inflicted gunshot wound.<span style="color: blue;"> <span style="color: black;">One of his most well-known pieces, </span><i style="color: black;">The Starry Night</i><span style="color: black;">, is featured here. </span></span> <o:p></o:p></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"></span></span><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
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Broomstick Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04117076805712071334noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5975889577253116090.post-50479445359468930582009-10-11T08:42:00.000-07:002010-04-12T09:34:37.390-07:00Curses<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>by Jenny Moore</i></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" http-equiv="Content-Type"></meta><meta content="Word.Document" name="ProgId"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Generator"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Originator"></meta><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CBecca%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CBecca%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx" rel="themeData"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CBecca%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml" rel="colorSchemeMapping"></link> <m:smallfrac m:val="off"> <m:dispdef> <m:lmargin m:val="0"> <m:rmargin m:val="0"> <m:defjc m:val="centerGroup"> <m:wrapindent m:val="1440"> <m:intlim m:val="subSup"> <m:narylim m:val="undOvr"> </m:narylim></m:intlim> </m:wrapindent><style>
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</style> </m:defjc></m:rmargin></m:lmargin></m:dispdef></m:smallfrac></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">I</span>t began with a blessing.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK0bwOVpbwa5BR9C7uvmjMXFQtmIpjFzB4EibUp4cIwNbzsCX7_r_aP0rEy392f8EnA95LLW-Iw3NlxDCxM3rd0WXkZrTl1VpYdLiNGg4SJGGc7NHz53hfYbd7KGqhHX7liWmCSaKHN_pZ/s1600/gustave-dore-don-quixote-001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK0bwOVpbwa5BR9C7uvmjMXFQtmIpjFzB4EibUp4cIwNbzsCX7_r_aP0rEy392f8EnA95LLW-Iw3NlxDCxM3rd0WXkZrTl1VpYdLiNGg4SJGGc7NHz53hfYbd7KGqhHX7liWmCSaKHN_pZ/s400/gustave-dore-don-quixote-001.jpg" width="317" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“May you grow forever and never die, for the good you have done our people,” a wise man of long ago whispered to a few seeds. They were squash seeds and those squash had supported the tribe through a harsh winter. The wise man felt that they deserved a blessing. The seeds must have thought so too, because they listened.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Several thousand years later, Rob bumped into the last wise man of that long ago tribe. This wise man did not remember the harsh winter or the blessing of the seeds, but he knew words of power that had been handed down from wise man to wise man for generations, and he still carried the sacred squash seeds with him wherever he went. As Rob stumbled into him, the seeds scattered across the sidewalk.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“Curses!” Rob said. “Watch where you’re going!” He scrabbled up a handful of seeds.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> “What’re these?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The old man spluttered angrily.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Rob grinned. It was nice to know that he wasn’t the only one who was mad at the world. “I guess I’ll keep them.” He shoved the seeds into his pocket.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The old man found his voice at last. “May your ears turn green and your tongue emerald!” he snarled. “May those seeds bring a shadow to your house!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Kind of a crazy old man, Rob thought, watching him stomp away. Rob didn’t really want the seeds—he’d just been giving the old man a hard time—but he took them home anyway. Maybe Dad could plant them in the garden.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Dad was on the telephone when Rob slammed into the house.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt_Vl1oKJ8ccoDI_hgcT3Zus44w-9Vlt0V__MhYadrNugbiQyt3wvIlt2piHRGdgRjM1D0uO-vKnQ6ZVt4QkBzsJC70dqepMmrc9CtmnEqyn5tx-xn7UL6-A1lYrkluvAg9xAG8IOsVvRQ/s1600/the-raven_gustave-dore-1884.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt_Vl1oKJ8ccoDI_hgcT3Zus44w-9Vlt0V__MhYadrNugbiQyt3wvIlt2piHRGdgRjM1D0uO-vKnQ6ZVt4QkBzsJC70dqepMmrc9CtmnEqyn5tx-xn7UL6-A1lYrkluvAg9xAG8IOsVvRQ/s400/the-raven_gustave-dore-1884.jpg" width="260" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“I brought you something!” Rob yelled, dumping the seeds on the table. It was Mom on the other end of the line. He could tell from the look on Dad’s face. A divorce was in the works, and Dad and Mom spent a lot of time shouting at each other.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“Mind your manners!” Dad snapped at Rob. “I’m talking!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“Whatever.” As far as Rob was concerned, the world was not a polite place. He didn’t see why he should be polite, either.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Dad did plant the seeds, though. He always went into the garden to cool off after a shouting match and this time, he took the seeds with him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">That evening, Rob’s tongue and ears turned green.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“Weird!” his sister Letty said. “Wait until they see you at school!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“Curses!” Rob said. “If you tell anyone about this, Letty, I’ll—I’ll”—He didn’t know what he’d do. Letty was the one person who didn’t care how rude Rob was, just like Rob didn’t care how many times Letty ran away.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">He ended up borrowing Letty’s earmuffs, and practiced talking without showing his tongue.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“What’s with the earmuffs?” Dad asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“New style,” Rob said coldly, keeping his green tongue behind his teeth.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“Have you seen those squash I planted?” Dad said. Working in the garden always put him in a good mood. “They’re starting to grow already!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Rob looked at the tiny plants poking out of the soil. “Did you say something?” he asked Letty.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">She shook her head. “Why?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaz_DMhd_JDWcSNxRNBuJxo41uNUEyDW21464Fm90hRSUgvFHtA6HEFpgvsLXGIyHUy3yYbNr6ewAofX7W4hI1Fr5MnspqWEiARl6Cag38tXSajUllXgX0bq2jYbYj22AzO7yFedEMDb05/s1600/Gustave_Dore-alpine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaz_DMhd_JDWcSNxRNBuJxo41uNUEyDW21464Fm90hRSUgvFHtA6HEFpgvsLXGIyHUy3yYbNr6ewAofX7W4hI1Fr5MnspqWEiARl6Cag38tXSajUllXgX0bq2jYbYj22AzO7yFedEMDb05/s400/Gustave_Dore-alpine.jpg" width="262" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“No reason.” Rob did not like to say that he could hear voices. Whispering, rustling voices. Hearing voices was definitely not a good thing.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The squash grew and grew. In two days, the plants had covered the garden. In four days, leaves were creeping over the windows and vine tendrils were spilling into the street.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">On Saturday, Mom came around to yell at Dad in person. Rob stayed to see if he could pick up some of the finer points of rudeness but Letty disappeared in the direction of the garden. Rob wondered if she was running away again, but maybe she was just going to play in the squash.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Letty didn’t come back, even when the yelling was over. Suppertime came and she still wasn’t back. Definitely run away again, Rob thought as Dad sent him out to search the garden.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The voices whispered in his ears again. They had a green and growing sound. Rob ignored them. “Letty!” he called. “Where are you?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">A muffled shout answered him. “These plants won’t let me out!” Some leaves in the center of the garden shook wildly as if someone was hitting them. “I was going to build a fort in here and now, I’m stuck!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“Oh, curses!” Rob stared at the garden through narrowed eyes. The squash plants were huge and tangled but he thought he could handle them. “Just a minute.” He went to the garden shed and dug out Dad’s pruning shears. The shears were rusty but still sharp enough to chop off some of the shovel-sized leaves. Rob waded through waist-deep foliage until he got near the center of the garden. When he couldn’t go any farther, he started chopping.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Nothing happened. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">That is, nothing much happened. The leaves twisted and grew back onto their stems as good as new. The voices got louder, almost like he was being shouted at by a bunch of plants.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">That was all.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho_HGE_hv43dQdlq7m0n8bTa0f84EHJbZP38YhyphenhyphenpVGVHTqJVNhyphenhyphenynSImXNzNI_oGIGL39GFPHTuxFOzvItuPkJBdMqwcaBupDEcvt9uFwJ_hyZdq3Q-bUAWDtX_LWaq7dHEoVv8Rej-T_p/s1600/dore_sleep3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho_HGE_hv43dQdlq7m0n8bTa0f84EHJbZP38YhyphenhyphenpVGVHTqJVNhyphenhyphenynSImXNzNI_oGIGL39GFPHTuxFOzvItuPkJBdMqwcaBupDEcvt9uFwJ_hyZdq3Q-bUAWDtX_LWaq7dHEoVv8Rej-T_p/s400/dore_sleep3.jpg" width="317" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Rob chopped and chopped and got madder and madder. Finally, he threw the shears aside, and thought.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">All that thinking resulted in Rob going back to the shed for a shovel. Maybe he could dig a tunnel under the plants.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The squash had other ideas. Scarcely had Rob begun to dig when branches grabbed his hair and pulled him backwards. The voices scolded him furiously. They were definitely plant voices. Rob’s green ears picked up every word they said, whether he wanted to or not.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“Just let my sister go!” Rob snarled finally. Not that he was talking to the plants of course, because that would be silly, but snarling out loud made him feel better. Still, he wasn’t prepared for the way his voice sounded. Sort of damp and green. He was so surprised that he bit his emerald tongue.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The plants were surprised too. They curled back from him and whispers ran all through the garden. “He talks to plants! The unbelievably rude boy speaks our language!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Rob tried to shut his ears again and clamp his lips shut but it was too late. The plants could understand him and he could understand them.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">A long vine slid up his face and tweaked his nose. “Why do you want the little girl back?” it asked. “She’s almost as rude as you are?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“Good for her!” Rob snapped. “She’s my sister! Why are you kidnapping her, you big bullies?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“That’s not very nice,” a large squash said. “We were just playing with her. We were going to let her go.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“We’re bored!” Other leafy voices joined in. “Grow, grow! That’s all we do, all day long! We want someone to talk to! Someone to listen to what we have to say!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“Who wants to listen to a bunch of dumb plants?” Rob asked reasonably. “Not me! This is crazy! I shouldn’t be able to hear you at all!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“You’re obviously under a curse,” one of the squash said in a business-like voice. “We know a thing or two about blessings and curses. Have you offended a wise man lately?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Unwillingly, Rob thought of the strange old man that he had bumped into. The one who had turned his ears and his tongue green. “Well,” he muttered. “I might have been kind of rude to one”—</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“Exactly,” boomed a large plant. “You are a rude boy. We will teach you manners and, in return, you will be our friend and talk to us!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“And you can have your sister back,” a small sly plant murmured.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Rob was seriously beginning to regret laughing at the crazy old man and bringing home the handful of squash seeds. “Oh, curs”—He stopped. Maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say. “If I’m rude, what are you? You can’t blackmail people into being your friends!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">There was a rustling pause. Rob could almost hear the little green minds thinking. Finally, the biggest squash said, “In that case, we will have to teach each other good manners. We can discuss it when we talk together.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Rob opened and shut his mouth. Finally, he gritted his teeth and said, “Please will you let my sister go?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“See?” the squash said happily. “You’re getting politer already!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“And you still have to promise to talk to us every day,” the small plant said smugly.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Rob knew when he was beaten. “Okay,” he growled. “I promise.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDmFT4faqOwuhjmv3vqvzWUbcnipVO_Op5btC007sb9LKMLBu-S0yq1sRKC_dH7BgHnnWPw1tRFt34LfQvPhmYUyeGUnBz6t2zf5BUbNfLM_Asp69Kq2e_9ttysorr8XEX-q-fDQ7UH0M2/s1600/artwork_images_1126_460346_gustave-dore.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDmFT4faqOwuhjmv3vqvzWUbcnipVO_Op5btC007sb9LKMLBu-S0yq1sRKC_dH7BgHnnWPw1tRFt34LfQvPhmYUyeGUnBz6t2zf5BUbNfLM_Asp69Kq2e_9ttysorr8XEX-q-fDQ7UH0M2/s400/artwork_images_1126_460346_gustave-dore.jpg" width="282" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Instantly, a few vines untangled and Letty shot out of them as if she had been kicked. She didn’t look very upset, though. In fact, she stared at Rob in fascination. “Can you really talk to them?” she asked. “That is so cool!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">When Rob thought about it, he realized that it was kind of cool. He wasn’t sure he liked the bit about being polite but then, the plants weren’t terribly polite either. He brightened. Maybe they could have some really good arguments!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And not everyone could say that a real, honest-to-goodness curse had been put on him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">From that day on, Rob could often be found in the garden. Sometimes, Letty was there too, demanding translations of plant talk. Sometimes, the conversations were painfully polite. Sometimes, they were painfully rude. Frequently, they were very boring. The plants still had nothing to do but grow. They crawled over the garden walls and spilled into the street where they stopped the traffic. The neighbors complained.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“Try growing straight up,” Rob suggested.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The plants did. They stretched and lifted, towering over the house, and the town, and the whole state. Scientists were baffled and tourists drove by and gawked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">People spotted Rob now and then, climbing up the wildly tall squash plants. He would find a comfortable branch to sit on, and talk and listen for hours. Conversations were more interesting when you could see everything that happened for a hundred miles around.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">As the divorce went through and the yelling died down, Rob frequently thought of the crazy old man who had put such a strange curse on him. Probably it would be better to be nice to peculiar and possibly magical people in the future. The plants kept telling him that. It paid to be polite. But on the other hand…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Curses weren’t as bad as all that!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
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</style> </m:defjc></m:rmargin></m:lmargin></m:dispdef></m:smallfrac></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: 200%; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>© 2010 Jenny Moore. All rights reserved.</i></span> ______________________________________________</div><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"> ABOUT THE AUTHOR</span><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">& ARTIST</span></span><br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>Jenny Moore</b> <meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" http-equiv="Content-Type"></meta><meta content="Word.Document" name="ProgId"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Generator"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Originator"></meta><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CBecca%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CBecca%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx" rel="themeData"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CBecca%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml" rel="colorSchemeMapping"></link> <m:smallfrac m:val="off"> <m:dispdef> <m:lmargin m:val="0"> <m:rmargin m:val="0"> <m:defjc m:val="centerGroup"> <m:wrapindent m:val="1440"> <m:intlim m:val="subSup"> <m:narylim m:val="undOvr"> </m:narylim></m:intlim> </m:wrapindent><style>
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</style><span style="font-size: 12pt;">is a member of the SCBWI. Her stories have appeared in such publications as <i>Cricket Magazine, Teach Kids</i>, and <i>Storystation.</i></span></m:defjc></m:rmargin></m:lmargin></m:dispdef></m:smallfrac></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>Paul Gustave Doré</b> <span class="IPA" title="Pronunciation in IPA"></span>(January 6, 1832 – January 23, 1883) was a French artist, engraver, illustrator, and sculptor. He worked primarily with wood and steel engraving. Doré's later works included Coleridge's <i>Rime of the Ancient Mariner</i>, Milton's <i>Paradise Lost</i>, Tennyson's <i>The Idylls of the King</i>, <i>The Works of Thomas Hood</i>, and <i>The Divine Comedy</i>. His work also appeared in the <i>Illustrated London News</i>. Doré continued to illustrate books until his death in Paris in 1883.<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></div>Broomstick Bookshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04117076805712071334noreply@blogger.com