I'm so excited to introduce a very special young lady guest blogger and writer today who is only 11 years old! She has written a short story to share with you and is so very talented! She has prepared a lot for you, so with no further adieu, I will share her post with you. Also, I'm giving away a FREE copy of "The Shoemaker" to celebrate Christmas In July to one random person from among those who leave Alli an encouraging comment here on my blog post! I will check back in the next ten to fourteen days and choose a random winner. You do have to include your email address in the comment so I can contact you to let you know you've won! Take it away Alli!
1) Hi Alli! Tell us a little about yourself (your favorite colors, what you like to do, etc.) How old are you and what grade are you in? What state do you live in? Do you have any brothers or sisters? Do you have a favorite pet?
Hello! I absolutely love to draw and make up fun things for my dolls to do like go on adventures. My favorite color is basically all shades of blue. I am 11 years old and am going into 6th grade. I live in Stow, Ohio, an amazing place to live in my opinion. I have so many friends. I have one sister named Molly, but I pretend I have like 15 siblings who are dolls. I have 3 pets. Oh, man, I can’t choose just one!! I have a black fluffy dog named Wrigley, a 6-year-old goldfish, and the cutest baby bunny in the world, named Mochaccino Chip.
2) How did you first become interested in writing and how old were you? Do you plan to be a writer when you grow up?
I really can’t remember how I became interested in writing. I was probably in the second grade. All I know is that I always loved to play pretend and imagine. Writing just lets me express all those thoughts onto paper and it makes me so happy when I sit down and let my brain explode into my stories. There is no doubt in my mind that I will be an author. I am also planning to illustrate my books.
3) What types of writing have you done so far (for example, poetry, short story, novel, journalism...)? What are a few of your writing goals (for example, publish a novel before age 25)? If you plan to write books, what genre do you think you will write in and for what audience?
At this time, I am writing chapter stories and I also wrote a short novel. One of my goals is to get a book published by the time I am 16. Another goal I have is to author a book series. The genre of books I like to write is fiction, or fantasy, but I also like mysteries.
5) Do you plan to share your faith in Jesus through your writing to help spread the Good News? Can you think of any creative ways to do this? Do you have a favorite Bible verse?
I do plan to share Jesus in my books. In the book, I am sharing with you today, my characters always pray before bed, and pray to God when they get hurt. I hope to do more things like this in future books. My favorite verse is Luke 11:9. And so I say to you, ask and it shall be given to you, seek and ye shall find, knock and it will be opened to you.
6) Can you share a short sample of your writing with us?
Alli has included a beautiful short story for all of you to enjoy! I hope you all enjoy it! It isn't very long and is very well written! Way to go Alli! Keep writing! I am so impressed! -- Lisa
A single flame
By Allison LePard- Age 11
I, Sarafé Shaffer, an 8-year-old girl from Wyoming, had never seen a fire. At least not until a week ago. This is how it all happened.
“Sarafé! Sarafé wake up honey!” I heard mum call from down stairs. The smell of fresh Chovies and Acari wafted up the wood stairwell. I slipped quietly out of bed, making sure not to wake 3-year-old Milaka. I slipped my moccasins and a red saree on and slippered down the stairs. Mum was cooking some breakfast as expected and Pop was braiding leather strips as always for the market. I had to admit I got lonely with just Milaka, Mum, and Pop. I had no nearby cousins (unless you count India as nearby) and no grandparents or aunts and uncles. My family was lone in America, in Wyoming, in a tiny little house. I sat down and took some strips from Pop. “good morning Sarafé,” Pop said grouchily. My Pop was always like this. “Sarafé, please go fetch Milaka and bring her to the table for Chovies.” Mum said. I scurried up the stairs. I loved Chovies. A nice warm Chovie made anything better. As I entered our room I wondered what was today's flavor. Milaka lay in the tiny cot, small and quiet. “Milaka! Milaka time to get up my little samosa!” I said, quoting grandmum’s name for me and my sister. She rose immediately and I helped her into her sari. It was a red one like mine, banded with gold. Mum had made these, and she always loved when me and Milaka wore them. So, I took my sister out and carried her down again to the table. Mum laid out the plates of Chovies and berry syrup. She sat the saucers of Acari out as well. I took a bite of one Chovie and knew today was Bipleberry day. Yum! Milaka bit a Chovie as well and smiled. Mum also smiled as she noticed how happy her little girls were. Pop rose from the table and took his case of the braided leather. He said no words and marched out the door. The rest of us sat in silence until mum spoke. “Alright girls time for mending.” she led me and Milaka to the braided rug where they mended sari’s and sewed new ones. I took out the purple silk sari I was working on and my needle. I also grabbed the gold lining with the sparkles hanging from it. Milaka being only 3 years old could not do this, so mum gave her wood figures to paint for the market as well. I pricked my finger on the needle and had to soak it in the wood basin. Mum said it would heal and that it happened to all sewers. Mum said a little prayer to God to help it, and I felt all the more secure. Milaka painted a little samosa wood piece and mom mended her fancy sari with the ruby lining. I soon was ready to add my lining to my sari as well and began to stitch it on. When we were done mum spoke again. “Alright girls let's go put our supplies away. Then we can go to the market. Maybe you'll find something!” she smiled and I led Milaka up the stairs. She put her samosa in a little bag and I put the newly made sari in my closet.
When we got to the market, me and Milaka ran for the stands and mum left for our families stand: the Indian stand. I held Milaka’s hand and we walked into a stand filled with Persian rugs. We both stroked their softness as we went into the next one. This stand had old toys. Most were either way too expensive or way to. . . old. When we went into the next stand, I saw millions of little plush dolls with yarn hair and crochet outfits. Milaka went to one with her same dark long hair and (what a coincidence!) a little pink sari. “Hello girls!” a lady said sweetly. “Those are a part of our around the world collection! Take a peek and see what you find!” she pointed to the table with the dolls. I noticed that there were many more Indian dolls. I sifted through them ‘till I found one that looked like me. It had my long dark hair as well with blue eyes that shimmered at me, calling me to take her home. “Sarafé please! I want one so bad!” Miaka cried to me. I had to admit I wanted mine too, so I took the money mum gave me and payed the lady $3:00, $1:50 for mine, $1:50 for Milaka’s. We took our dolls and walked around to mum’s stand. She was selling Milaka’s samosa at that very moment, when she noticed us. “Well Sarafé what did you 2 get?” she asked. We held up our dolls for her to see. She nodded in approval as she sold a sari to an Indian lady.
. . .
That night I tucked milaka into bed because she had fallen asleep on mum. I said goodnight to mum and pop and got into my own bed. I was grateful for a good night's sleep. All of a sudden at like midnight I woke up. The air smelled smokey. Oh no. fire? It couldn’t be! I sniffed again. Smoke, definitely, smoke. I scrambled out of bed and crawled over to Milaka’s bed. I swept off her covers and took her down to the floor with me to breathe a bit. She coughed and gasped and I knew I had to get her out of here. “Milaka! Please, we have to get out of here! Come with me, and crawl!” I said to her anxiously. She nodded slightly and we went for the door. I felt the knob and retracted my hand immediately. It was hot. And not just oops-I-made-the-shower-too-hot, hot; like oh-my-goodness-it's-boiling, hot. I waved Milaka over to the tiny window. I took a curtain rod and broke the stained glass. Our house was burning all windows anyway. The glass fell to the ground below and I threw a blanket down to cover it. It was all we needed because we wore moccasins to bed. I jumped out and stood on the grass. Don't worry, our house is a ranch. I held my hands out to Milaka so she could jump. Suddenly she fell out the window into my arms. “Milaka!” I screeched. She lay limp in my arms as I ran to the safe tree across the street. She had only passed out because of the smoke, she’ll be fine! I told myself. I knelt at the tree and sat Milaka down. She was breathing, ohhhhhh. That was sooooo good! She coughed but remained unconscious. I held her in my lap as I waited for mum and pop to come out.
How long had it been? I wasn’t sure. But mum nor pop had come out. It had to have been at least 10 minutes, or more. Fire trucks had come but no one came out yet. They are probably just making their way out! Right? 10 minutes more, 20, still nothing. Where were they? I was getting worried. They had to come out! Tears ran down my cheeks as fear began to overtake me. I was sitting on the side of a fire truck now as nurses got air to my sister. They said she was lucky to have me to get he out because her lungs couldn’t have taken much more of that smoke. All of a sudden, a firefighter came out of my house with a person. A person! With long black locks and a purple sari! “Mum!” I cried. I ran from the truck to see her. She smiled at me and scooped me up in her arms. Happy tears fled from both of our cheeks and we stayed like that until and officer ushered us away from the house. “Oh Sarafé! I'm so happy you're ok!” she said. We walked to the nurse station to get her checked out. She got a couple breaths of fresh air like I had and was we sat on the edge of Milaka’s bed. Mum stroked her and I told mum about how we escaped. How Milaka fell out the window and how we had to crawl to it. She praised the lord for saving her 2 beautiful girls and prayed that pop was safe as well. Soon the minutes turned to an hour, and the firefighters said that they had not found pop and that we could look around for salvageable possessions. Mum cried and I cried, and I'm sure if Milaka knew she would cry too. Me and Mum went to look around the ashes for things. We found grandma's old metal burn-proof box that held birth certificates and wedding officials. Under a big piece of drywall, I found the the 2 tiny dolls from the market in their tiny metal box home me and Milaka had made for them. It was a miracle they survived. The metal was charred and the lock was gone but, the little girls in their little saree’s were still safe. I held the box to my chest and kept walking around. I found the little box of CD’s which were now shattered, and the tiny menu for the local indian restaurant, torn, but still with us. And last I found a, no glass, frame of our family. Milaka was only 1 at the time and I was very tiny. Mum was holding her and pop stood over me smiling like mum. I showed mum and she showed me what she had found: a little chovie wrapper, the marble cross, and Great-Grandpa’s old king james version bible. The chovie wrapper was ripped, the cross was chipped, and the bible lost the table of contents but they all looked fine. We went back to the truck and the officers gave us a tote for our things. Milaka began to wake up and we told her about pop and oh how she cried. First her eyes smiled at his name but when they found out the rest they welled with tears and she fell into mum crying. I couldn’t help but cry too, my life had been turned upside down. I gave Milaka her doll and she hugged with all her might. I hugged mine too and we all talked about what to do next. Mum said we would probably go to a hotel so she could regain control and figure out where to go. We had no family near us and now pop couldn’t be with us to help. We now had to figure out an all new life on our own.
And it all started with a single flame.
Epilogue
I looked out the window of the bus as we drove to the cottontail inn. Mum sat with Milaka on her lap and I sat next to her. I had the tote at my feet and I held my little doll. We had just been sent on our way from a terrible fire at our house. We lost my room and my bed and we-we lost m-my. . .. .pop. the officers had searched the house a second time for him but they found nothing. It hurts to think I’ll never see him again. Soon we arrived and we all got off. Mum booked us a room and we hopped on an elevator. The room had two beds and a little kitchen. On the keycard it said the room was called the getting back on your feet room. Milaka collapsed onto the bed and began to sleep, for it was late at night. I took a little folded crib from the side of the room and unfolded it so Milaka could sleep. Mum took a blanket from the closet and I layed Milaka in it. Mum swayed the blanket over her and got 2 for me and her. I climbed up onto my bed and covered myself with the blanket. Mum did the same and we went to bed. Suddenly in the middle of the night the phone rang. Mum answered and woke me. “Sarafé! Come, the lobby said we have a visitor.” I rubbed my eyes and took Milaka to my hip. Yes, I can carry her. We went down stairs and there, standing with Reverend Kerry, was pop! We all ran to him and he scooped us all up we all cried and laughed. We don't know how he got here and we don't care either, because now we are whole again.