Sandbox Adventure

 

In my backyard,

a box full of sand,

magical wonders,

an enchanted land.

A child’s imagination

carries me away

across the wide sea

where I sail and play.

Protecting a castle

from dragons and more,

sea creatures that slither

and monsters that roar.

They attack from the air,

the ground, and the sea,

but I battle bravely

until they all flee.

My castle protected,

I return to my shore,

then sail once again

to adventures galore.

To an island of danger,

a perilous sight,

with treasure to find

and pirates to fight.

Another adventure

in my box of sand,

magically enchanted,

wondrous and grand.

The Fairy Garden Adventure

Olivia the Bold, Winston the Brave, and Nathan the Fearless were going on an adventure.

“Where should we start?” Olivia asked her brothers.

“How about the Fairy Garden?” Nathan suggested.

“I bet there’s an ogre in there,” Winston said, “holding a fairy princess captive.”

“Oh no!” Olivia exclaimed. “We have to rescue her!”

Inside the Fairy Garden, the fairies were listening.

“You hear that?” Jenna asked Mary. “The children want an adventure. Whose turn is it to be the princess?”

“I think it’s Bridgette’s turn,” said Mae. “And Tristan can be the ogre.”

“Why do I have to be the ogre?” Tristan grumbled. “Why can’t I be the prince?”

“Because you’re the ogre and I’m the prince,” Mae said.

“You can’t be the prince. You’re a girl,” Tristan objected.

“I can too. Olivia said girls can be whatever they want to be, and I want to be the prince.”

“Fine,” Bridgette said. “Be the prince. Now here they come. Everyone, in your places!”

The fairies hurried to hide as the children, now shrunk down to fairy size, made their way into the Fairy Garden.

“Help! Help!” Gale called. “A terrible ogre has taken Princess Bridgette to his cave and is holding her for… for…”

“For a ransom?” Olivia the Bold suggested.

“Yes!” Gale said. “A ransom of… of…”

“Cookies and mints,” Tristan whispered loudly from behind a flower. Then he let out a mighty ogre roar. At least, he hoped it sounded mighty and not like the squeak of a squirrel, as he feared.

“Fee, fi, fo, fum! I want cookies and mints!” he bellowed in his most fearsome voice.

“What do you think?” Winston the Brave asked.

“I want cookies too,” Nate the Fearless said. “Do you think Mom will give us some?”

“Not now,” Winston said. “We have to rescue the princess first.”

The three adventurers entered the garden.

Olivia tread lightly across the colored glass stones, careful not to disturb a single sparkling pebble. Winston drew his sword and used it to part the tall daisies, their white petals brushing against his shoulders. Nathan leapt over the narrow stream and turned back, whispering loudly, “This way!”

The garden seemed deeper than usual. The air shimmered. Somewhere ahead, something growled.

“Do you think that’s the ogre?” Olivia asked, her voice trembling just a little.

“It could be a lion,” Nathan said.

“Lions don’t live in Fairy Gardens,” Winston replied.

“How do you know?” Nathan argued. “They could.”

“It’s an ogre,” Olivia said firmly, pointing ahead. “Because there he is.”

Sure enough, Tristan stood before them, puffing out his cheeks and stretching his arms wide, trying to make himself look twice his size.

Just then, Prince Mae the Mighty leapt from behind a rose bush, wooden sword raised high.

“Stand back!” she cried. “I will handle this beast!”

With a fierce shout, she charged at the ogre, waving her sword wildly.

Tristan shrieked and turned to run.

“You’re not supposed to run!” Mae yelled after him. “You’re a big, scary ogre. You’re supposed to stay and fight!”

“I don’t have a sword!” he shouted over his shoulder.

“Ogres don’t need swords. They have big, meaty hands!” Mae declared.

And then something terrible happened.

She slipped.

Her feet flew out from under her, and she landed squarely in a very squishy mud puddle.

Splat.

“Are you okay?” Olivia asked, hurrying forward to help her up.

“I’m fine,” Mae said, her cheeks turning pink beneath the streaks of mud. “Just embarrassed.”

“Don’t worry,” Winston said confidently. “We’ve got this.”

He and Nathan pointed toward a hollow in a wide old tree.

“I think the princess is in there,” Nathan whispered.

“But where did the ogre go?” Olivia asked, looking around.

From high in the branches above them, two tiny voices whispered.

“This way…”

“No, that way…”

Jenna and Mary peeked down from behind a curtain of leaves, trying very hard to look mysterious.

“The princess is closer than you think,” Jenna called in her most magical voice.

“But beware!” Mary added. “The ogre may return!”

Just then, a very ogre-like growl rumbled from inside the tree.

“Be careful,” Mae said, following the three children. “I mean, the three knights. He’s a hungry one.”

“I bet he’s not hungrier than me,” Nathan said, already wondering when they might get those cookies.

Inside the tree, the world opened up.

Up ahead, a waterfall spilled down the smooth wooden wall.

“A waterfall inside a tree,” Olivia marveled. “It must be magical.”

At the foot of the waterfall stood the ogre, arms crossed, guarding the misty pool below.

“The princess is mine,” he growled.

“No, she’s not,” said Prince Mae, lifting her muddy sword.

“I don’t belong to anyone,” said Princess Bridgette, who was sitting quite comfortably on a toadstool in the middle of a small stream.

The ogre hesitated.

“Well,” he corrected, “I will let her go for a ransom of three mint cookies.”

The three knights exchanged glances.

Then Olivia reached inside her bag and pulled out three mint cookies.

The ogre’s eyes widened.

“For me?” he asked.

“For the princess,” Olivia said wisely.

Princess Bridgette stepped off her toadstool and waded across the little stream.

“I believe,” she said, taking the cookies and handing one to the ogre, “that ransoms are better when they are shared.”

The ogre blinked.

“You mean… I still get one?”

“Of course,” Nathan said quickly. “We all should. Especially me,” he added.

“Hurrah!” Jenna cheered. “The princess has been rescued!”

“And the ogre has been fed!” Mary declared.

Everyone agreed that was even better.

The fairies gathered around the waterfall, and soon they were all eating mint cookies and drinking lemonade. Even Prince Mae the Mighty, still a little muddy, declared the adventure a great success.

“That was a fun adventure,” Olivia said happily. “What should we do tomorrow?”

High in the branches, the fairies began whispering again.

Dave

 DAVE

by Lisa McCourt Hollar

A monster moved into my room today. He wasn't big and hairy, like you see on TV In fact, he wasn't even very scary. What he was was 4-foot tall with curly red hair, and ears that stuck out about a mile. And though not scary, his teeth were sharp and I thought they might look more fearsome in the dark.

He was wearing jeans with rips in the seams, a Hawaiian shirt hung down to his knees. On his feet, which were really quite huge, he wore a pair of muddy tennis shoes.

I was lying on my bed, playing a video game, when he walked into my room and said, "Hi, my name is Dave. Do you mind if I move in?"

At first, I was surprised to see a monster walk into my room, but then I remembered something my mom had once said.

"Your room is a mess. If you don't get it clean, monsters are going to start moving in." I thought she was joking.

She wasn't.

"Where should I sleep?" Dave asked, as he tossed his things onto my bed.

"Umm," I said, not knowing what to say about a 4-foot monster moving into my room. So I just said, "I don't think my mom would want you living in my room."

"Oh, don't worry. Your room is such a mess, your mom will never know I'm here."

I looked around. Dave was right, it was a mess, just the way I liked it. Dave liked it too.

"Oh, I know!" Dave said, looking under the bed. "I'll sleep under here. All this dust will make a nice place to sleep."

Maybe this won't be too bad. All of my friends have brothers that act like monsters but I've got the real thing. How many kids can say that?

"You don't mind if I have some friends over every now and then?" Dave asked, opening my closet door.

"I guess not," I said, "as long as they're quiet."

"Don't worry." Dave said. "Your mom will never hear them. By the way, love what you've done with your closet. Didn't think you could pack so much stuff in there."

"Thanks," I said. "I try."

"I can tell. Good job! Well, I think I'm going to turn in. It's almost dark, and that's when all the fun begins." Dave said, as he slid back under my bed.

"What kind of fun?" I asked, wondering just what it was monsters did.

"Well, tonight it's a party. There will be music and dancing and we might even play a game of monster ball. Then, if we feel up to it, we may sneak into some little girls' room and squeak the door on her closet. That's always a riot."

I laughed, trying to imagine Dave seeming scary, even to a little girl. I don't know why mom thought having a monster move in would be such a bad thing. Dave's going to be a lot of fun.

A few seconds later, I smelled the smell. I leaned over the side of my bed, and looked under it. Dave had taken off his shoes.

"Umm, do you think you could do something about that smell?"

"Oh, I know." Dave said. "It's missing something, isn't it? My friend Sam offered to lend me some old socks he'd once used to catch a skunk."

"You mean, you want your feet to smell?"

"Well, of course! I'm a monster. Our smells are what make us special."

"Dave," I said, "my mom doesn't like smells. Not unless they're good smells."

"Then what's the problem?" Dave asked.

"Flowery smells, not skunk and feet smells."

"You don't say." Dave said. "Well, it takes all kinds. Now, if you don't mind, I think I'm gonna get some shut eye. It's gonna be dark soon, and as I mentioned, Sam's having a wing ding at his place tonight. Hear he's going to be serving stink worms. Delicious!"

"You don't understand." I said, "My mom will not want my room smelling like your feet. You're going to have to find someplace else to live."

Dave opened one eye and looked at me. "I don't think so. I like it here. Besides, I already told you, she'll never know I'm here. She'll blame the smell on something in your room."

"She'd be right." I growled.

"Ya, I guess she would," Dave snickered.

I stared at Dave a few more minutes. He'd closed his eye and was trying to go to sleep. He had no intention of leaving. I laid back on my bed and thought about what would happen when my mom got home and smelled Dave's feet. It wouldn't be a good thing. She'd come in here and start throwing things out, trying to get to the source of the smell. Then she'd find Dave. She'd scream. She might even cry. Things would get ugly. Real ugly. There was only one thing I could do.

I began gathering up all the clothes on my floor. I sorted them into two piles. Clean and dirty. I took the dirty clothes to the laundry room. Then I began folding the clean ones and putting them away in my drawers.

"What are you doing?" Dave asked, sleepily. He had one eye open again.

"Putting my clothes away." I said.

"Why would you want to do that?" Dave asked.

"Because I'm cleaning my room." I said.

Dave's other eye opened. "Why would you want to do that?" He asked, sounding alarmed.

"So you will leave."

"Now listen, don't be so hasty." Dave said. "I make a great room mate. You don't really want me to leave."

"Yes, I do." I said, picking my books up off the floor and putting them on the bookshelf. "If my mom comes home and finds you she might scream. She might even cry. Then she'll tell me that she'd warned me this would happen. Who knows, she might even ground me. So you see, you have to go."

"Think this through," Dave said, sliding out from under the bed, "If you clean your room, your mom is going to expect you to keep it clean all the time. ALL THE TIME! She'll start bringing her friends in here to show them your room. She'll brag to the neighborhood moms about how clean you keep your room. Then those moms will want to know why their kids can't keep their room as nice as yours, and make them start picking up their rooms. Your name will be the most hated name on the block. Do you really want that? DO YOU?"

I paused, book midway to the shelf. Dave had a point. This could turn into a lot of work. Then I caught a whiff of his feet again and placed the book on the shelf.

"I'll just have to take that chance." I said, as I began to pick up my video games.

When I was done, I opened my closet door. "Not the closet!" Dave despaired. "Leave the closet the way it is, and I can stay in there."

"Not a chance." I said.

Dave sighed. "You really know how to ruin a good thing. Well, you win. I'll pack my things and go. I can probably stay with Sam for a while."

"I'm sorry things didn't work out." I told Dave. "I think it would have been fun having you here, but with my mom and all ... well, I just don't think she would understand."

"No problem," Dave said, "but I'm gonna check back every now and then. Maybe someday, your room will be suitable for me again."

"Maybe," I shrugged, "but don't count on it. I don't think my mom will ever start to like the smell of skunk and feet."

"Go figure." Dave said, mystified.

Dave left and I finished cleaning my room. I even got the dust bunnies out from under my bed.

To get rid of Dave's foot odor, I sprayed some of my moms air freshener in my room. It smells like lilac mow. Dave would hate it. I know I do.

When my mom got home she screamed. Then she cried. She called all her friends and told them how clean my room was. Then she bragged to the neighbors about how clean my room was.

Later on that night my friend Tom called. He wanted to know if I could come and help him clean his room. His mom was complaining about a mysterious odor coming from under his bed

Jenny Christine and the Boogieman

 

Jenny Christine was every parent’s dream,
a quiet child who would rarely scream.
She did her homework every night
and never fussed or picked a fight.

She cleaned her room without being told
and was, they said, worth more than gold.
A bookish girl, both sharp and keen,
the smartest child they had ever seen.

She mastered math and spelling tests;
in French she ranked among the best.
She swore she’d fix a car with a wrench,
if they'd just say yes and give consent.

One thing Jenny knew was fact:
monsters were myths. That much she’d cracked.
So finding one there in her room
should have filled her heart with doom.

But Jenny only shook her head,
shut the closet door, and went to bed.
The Boogie Monster stood stunned and pale,
unsure how he could ever fail.

He popped his head back in its place,
then leapt so she could see his face.
He ripped it off and howled in pain,
then snapped it on his neck again.

He growled and groaned and thrashed about,
determined he would draw a shout.
Jenny yawned and softly said,
“Are you quite finished with your dread?”

His jaw fell hard against the floor.
He fixed it fast and tried once more.
He climbed her dresser, checked his look.
The scariest monster in the book.

He plucked his eyes out, one by one,
stomped his feet and shrieked for fun.
He clawed his hair and split the air,
but Jenny only watched his stare.

“Is that it?” Jenny coolly said.
“My brother’s tantrums wake the dead.
Next to his fits, you’re rather tame.
For such a monster, that’s a shame.”

“I do not understand,” he said.
“Why don’t you hide beneath your bed?
You should be trembling there instead,
too scared to lift your little head.”

“Why would I?” said Jenny then.
“You are not real. Just dreams pretend.”
“I am not a dream,” the Boogie said,
and leaned in closer to her bed.

“You want me false. You want me lies,
so you can hide behind wise eyes.
But Jenny Christine, I know your fears.
I’ve stood in shadows through your tears.

You tell yourself you’re not like them
so it won’t hurt you’ve lost a friend.
And if I were just make-believe,
you would not feel this.” He pinched her sleeve.

Jenny’s breath caught sharp and thin.
The fear she locked came rushing in.
She let out one piercing scream,
splitting night and breaking dream.

Her parents burst into the room.
The Boogie vanished in the gloom.
They checked her closet, searched her bed,
and heard each trembling word she said.

When all was proved both safe and sound,
they tucked her in and left the room.
But Jenny lay there, wide awake,
aware at last of what was fake.

She turned and slowly checked her bed,
then faced the closet where he’d fled.
“Good night, Boogie,” Jenny said.

From dark above, a floating head.

“Good night, Jenny,” soft and low.
“And now,” it said, “you finally know.”

Jessie Goes To The Moon

Jessie Goes To The Moon

(and meets the Sandman)

Jessie built himself a ship

and flew to the moon, oh what a trip!
He met some creatures who lived on the moon,
silly little creatures we’ll call the Loons.

They met him when he left his ship,
a parade of Loons that jumped and flipped.
They blipped and bleeped and welcomed him there,
little green creatures with bright orange hair.

They told him they were glad he’d come,
for they had a task they couldn’t get done.
The Sandman, who also lived on the moon,
had fallen asleep sometime last June.

He’d been filling his bags full of sleep sand,
when he wiped some off on the back of his hand.
It got in his eyes and he drifted to sleep,
and now he was snoring so heavy and deep.

So the Loons had gathered the sand they could find,
but making more sand had them puzzled in mind.
More and more people were staying awake,
for no one knew how new sand to make.

The sleep sand stores were running low,
and still the Sandman would not show.
They shouted and shouted and called his name,
but sleeping so deeply, he stayed the same.

Jessie tried hard to think what to do,
but how to make sand, he hadn’t a clue.
Then he said, “Bring pans, every one you can.
Let’s wake up that sleepy old Sandman.”

From every kitchen across the moon
came forks and knives and spoons in a swoon.
Pots and pans in a clanging parade,
the noisiest racket the Loons ever made.

They banged and bammed and crashed and clattered,
till Jessie thought his ears would shatter.
The noise grew loud, louder than thunder,
when suddenly up popped the Sandman from under.

He blinked and yawned and scratched his head.
“Did I oversleep?” the Sandman said.
They told him how long and all that they’d kept,
and how the whole world had nearly not slept.

Together they worked with Jessie’s hand,
mixing and sifting the fresh new sand.
Soon every bag was filled up tight,
ready to sprinkle dreams that night.

At last Jessie said, “It’s time for home,
but I’ll try to call you on the phone.”
The Loons all waved with sleepy grins
and thanked their brave and helpful friend.

He climbed aboard his ship once more
and gently rose from the moon’s bright shore.
But this isn’t the end, oh no, not soon,
for Jessie will visit again the moon.

Stinky Skunk

Stinky Skunk watched the boy kicking stones and splashing in the puddles. He was moving closer and closer to where Stinky was hiding. Stinky lifted his tail, ready to react if the boy found him … he knew this child. He liked to collect things. Stinky didn’t want to end up in his collection, like Pickles once had. The boy jumped in another puddle, splashing mud and water up onto his shirt. He was about to jump again, bending his knees and preparing to leap in the air, when he stopped. 

“Kitty…” The boy took a step towards the bush.

“Caleb, time to go inside!”

A girl took the boy by the hand and pulled him towards the house. “Look at how muddy you are.” She sniffed the air. “And stinky. Now I have to give you a bath.”

“But I don’t want a bath, Sarwah. I like being muddy and stinky.”

“Well no one else enjoys it,” the girl laughed. “Now come on, mom’s bringing pizza home.”

Stinky watched the two disappear into the house and then came out of the bushes. He had to agree … being stinky was fun. Speaking of stink … the skunk sniffed the air. He smelled something yummy. There was a garbage can by the side of the house. The lid was up and the smell was coming from inside.

“Hmmm, let’s see what delicious treat waits me inside.”

“Please tell me you aren’t going to eat garbage.” Pickles said, hopping out from behind the can.

“Of course I am,” Stinky said. “You know the saying, garbage today, food tomorrow.”

“I’ve never heard that saying,” Pickles said.

“Besides,” Stinky said, climbing up onto the side of the garbage container, “you eat flies. Who are you to judge?”

“You eat flies too.”

“And fruit, insects, yummy yummy bacon … the things humans throw out … and, oh my ... YES! EGGS!” Stinky dove into the pile of garbage … or paradise. It’s all in the eye of the beholder.

“Eggs?” Pickles croaked.

Stinky stuck his head up. He had an egg shell in his mouth. “Rotten eggs. The best kind.”

The End

I Think I'm Going To Be Silly Today

I Think I'm Going to be Silly Today

by L. Hollar

I think I’m going to be silly today
And do things  in a different way.
I’ll put my shoes on the wrong feet,
Different colors, one blue, one pink.

I’ll eat my sandwich wrong side out,
Jump up and down and give a shout.
I’ll try on mamas’dressing gown
And watch television upside down.

Since today I’m being silly,
I’ll run around all willy-nilly.
I’ll find my friends, Lulu and Nogs,
So we can hop around like frogs.

When I go to bed tonight,
I’ll end my silly day just right.
I’ll put my P.J.’s on backwards
And say some silly good night words.

Then I’ll sleep upside down,
Under my bed, on the ground.
Until Mama puts me back in bed
And kisses my silly little head.