Week 11: This Week’s Winning Stories
Hope, Love, and Imagination
I watched imported fruit be unloaded from the plane by men, almost falling over by the weight, while I waited to board my plane. The fruit was a mix of oranges, apples, tomatoes, and grapes, all things I enjoy. I was at the Los Angeles International Airport, awaiting my fate.
There were many reporters around, taking reports from random people and asking where they were going, looking for a story good enough to go in their newspaper, or looking for a person with enough importance to satisfy their readers. I hoped I would be important enough to get in a newspaper someday, if my supporters showed up, and if this once in a lifetime opportunity didn’t go haywire.
“Hey!” called out a familiar voice, “What do we have here?”
“Piper!” I yelled, whipping my head around as I tried to find her amidst all the people. I saw her arms flapping wildly next to a potted plant, and I immediately came rushing over and hugged her tight.
“I can’t believe you’re here!” I practically screamed.
Her eyes shined, “How could I miss such an important event that will shape your future! Can I see the clothes you designed for the contest?”
I smiled, and brought two dresses out of my bag. One was snow white and made out of silk, with beautiful rhinestones all around, and the other was a cotton, navy blue, knee length dress with a matching belt.
She gasped, “They’re gorgeous!”
I beamed and hugged her again. People kept coming, cheering me on. The few people I showed my dresses to had the same reaction as Piper, lots of gasping and complementing. My Aunt Heather even fainted from the shock!
Later, it was time for me to board the plane. A porter came around and took my portfolio and bag on while I followed, glancing back several times, and waving like crazy at my supporters, my friends and family.
When I was on, I started to get nervous. I don’t know why, but I was worried about leaving my home and my friends. When I looked out my window at all of them standing there, my worries disappeared. They wanted me to succeed; they wanted me to take the journey to New York, and to get a job. Knowing this made me happy, washing away any other thoughts I had.
All too soon, the plane started into the sky, leaving my childhood behind. I kept my mind picture of my supporters waving at me from outside the plane, and comported myself with confidence. That one thought, that one picture, I would keep during this trip, and any challenges I might face would become possible to overcome—all because of a bit of hope, love, and an imagination.
Read and see this story in hieroglyphics here.
I stumble over the cracks in the sidewalk, pulling up my collar and adjusting my gloves. I grit my teeth as I stomp through the cold late-November air. I hear something crunch under my left Ugg boot. I pick up my foot and see a crushed pink piece of paper. I pick it up and read it.
Are you a budding chef?
Do you want a chance to be discovered?
Do you want to win one million dollars?
Now’s your chance!
Come to the Great California Cook Off!
Ghirardelli Square, North Point Street, San Francisco, CA
This will be televised live.
You must make a food item before the event,
and all who show up with a portable* meal have a chance
to be one of the three kids who will take part in the “Championship”!
You must be thirteen or under.
See you there!
*Portable meaning pre-made and easy to transport to the square.
I smile. I love to cook. I am twelve. I have always wanted to be on TV. There is just one problem; how am I going to get to California?
When I arrive to the front door, I am a bubble of excitement. I burst through the door and practically vomit words from my mouth. “Ireallywanttobeinthiscookoff,” I pant, hands on my knees.
“Whoa, slow down, Speed Racer,” my mom says, setting her newspaper down on the coffee table.
“Please, please, please,” I blurt. I take a deep breath. “Please.”
“I saw the registration thing online,” she replies, “I was going to ask you if you wanted to go before I registered you, but then I thought you were going to say yes anyway.” She pauses. “We live in New York, and the competition is in San Francisco, so I hope you know we will have to take a plane. I hope you’re okay, Lilly.” I am fine. She continues, “We will leave for the airport tomorrow, so go pack, Lilly-bug.” I scamper up to my room, my head spinning with thoughts about the cook off.
Having arrived in San Francisco, my mom and I walk into Ghirardelli Square, and my stomach flutters. I shift my meatloaf dish from on arm to another. My mom obviously sees how nervous I am, and tousles my blonde ponytail.
“You’ve got it,” she says.
I find a place on a table and sit down on a cold metal folding chair.
“I’m going to look around at the competition,” Mom says. “I’ll be back in five.”
She walks away into the crowded square. I look to my left and see a girl with dark brown curly pigtails. She sits behind a big plate of blue frosted cupcakes. She has pursed lips and a worried expression. A reporter walks up and introduces herself as Lila Wu.
“Hi! I write a column for the San Francisco Chronicle. Do you mind if I interview you about the competition?” she asks the girl.
“Sure,” the girl stammers.
“Great! What’s your name?” Lila asks
“Em-Emily Terem.” I realize that the Emily has a British accent. Wow, if she came all the way here from the United Kingdom, she’s crazy. The reporter finishes her interview, and by then the judges have come to try our food. A man walks up to my booth holding a clipboard.
“And what do you have today, um…” he glances at his clipboard and then back up at me, “Lillian Richardson?”
“Um, a homemade meatloaf, sir,” I respond shyly. The judge takes a plastic fork out of his pocket and scoops a considerable chunk out of my meatloaf. He chews, swallows, and then he jots something down on his clipboard.
“Thank you,” he says as he walks away.
The sun had begun to set by the time the judges announce the finalists. My mom and I hold hands as we look up at the pop-up stage.
“The three finalists are,” says the woman, announcing the winners, “Emily Terem.” I was surprised. No offense to Emily, but her cupcakes looked a little stale. “Roberto Robertson.” I hold my breath. “And… Lillian Richardson!” I admit, I squeal. My mom squeezes my hand and congratulates me. I am as happy as an astronaut after returning from a successful mission.
Thirty minutes later, I am ushered onto the stage. We have had time to think about our meal and then we are instructed to report back to the center of Ghirardelli Square. I have to wait behind a counter as one of the judges talks about how big of an opportunity this is and how important it is to our future as chefs. The stress that is put on me makes me feel like I am in the show, Master Chef Junior. The judge says that this will someday be part of the winner’s life portfolio. I start to sweat despite the cool brisk wind.
“…I hope you will support these young chefs, and without further ado, let the cook off begin!” the announcer screams into the microphone. An alarm sounds, and I look at a large stopwatch hanging above the stage. It is counting down from one hour. The time shows fifty-eight minutes left. I have already wasted two minutes! In the prep time, my mom and I had decided that I would bake my signature chocolate-coffee flavored layer cake. I get to work, mixing this, adding a pinch of that. Before I know it, I am pulling the golden brown cake out of the oven. However, before the cake had finished, while I am still waiting for the cake to bake, I make my delicious homemade vanilla frosting. Now, what color to dye it? I glance out at the bay; the dark blueish-gray water strikes me as one of the most beautiful colors I have ever seen.
I stare at the clock. Fifteen minutes left. Okay, I have time. I start with blue and add black and some green, mixing almost all the food dye colors that are available to me. With five minutes left, I start to frost the cake. I am in my own little world frosting here and there. When the buzzer sounds, signaling we are out of time, I realize how beautiful the frosting is. There are blue swirls and the cake looks just like the bay. I look around me and see that Roberto had made some type of a casserole, and Emily has used the grill to make sautéed pork and veggies.
The judges travel from one kid to another, and I notice that a crowd has flocked to the front of the stage to see the winners. Of course, my mom is up front and waving. The judge comes to me and takes a fork and stabs my beautiful cake. She takes a bite and smiles. There are three judges and they all take turns taking a bite of each kid’s dish. They huddle together for a couple minutes, and then one of them breaks out of the huddle and steps up to the microphone.
“In second place,” he says, “is Roberto Robertson.” People cheer and whistle, and Roberto bows to the audience. The judge continues, “And our first place kid, winner of the one million dollars is…” I cross my fingers and silently pray. “Lillian Richardson!” I can’t believe I have won.
The Missing Scooter
“Nolan, can you support me and help me find my scooter?” Caden shouted across the street. “It has gone missing, and it’s extremely important to me. If my dad figures out it’s lost, he’ll kill me.”
“Chill, chill, I’ll help you find it,” Nolan responded, and he walked across the street and looked down as he continued to play on his phone. “Okay, when was the last time you had it?” Nolan questioned.
“Oh no, oh noooo! I left it downtown; that’s is when I had it last. We will need someone to transport us there!”Caden shrieked.
“I’ll report this to my mom and ask her if she’ll give us the opportunity to get dropped off downtown,” Nolan responded and jogged back to his house.
Caden waited for a short two minutes and then was startled by the sound of Nolan exclaiming, “Yeessss, she can take us, but she said it is of importance that we behave inside her portable car.”
“OK,” Caden said and walked over to Nolan’s house and got into the car. His mom joined, too, and drove the car away.
“Wow,” Caden said his eyebrows raising, “this is a nice car.”
“Thanks, bud, you wanna know something cool about?” she said.
“Sure,” Caden said in curiosity.
“The brand of this car actually isn’t American. They had to export it all the way from Australia! I’ve even had a reporter come up to me and ask to interview me about the car, isn’t that crazy.”
“Yeah,” said Caden, and for the rest of the drive there were no words spoken until the car came to a stop, and Nolan said…..
“Where exactly downtown did you leave it?”
“At the skate park,” Caden said, getting out the car.”
Within about ten minutes, they were walking through the skate park entrance and heard an airplane above them, possibly going to the local San Jose Airport. They glanced over to the right, and Caden and Nolan’s face went into shock when they saw someone who was about seventeen throwing Caden’s scooter side-to-side and flipping upside down and just laughing at it.
There was no possible way they were going to pick a fight with that kid over the scooter. Oh, noooo way. So Caden, after all, was never going to get his scooter back as long as that kid was riding it.
“Let’s just walk away this time,” Nolan said, still in shock.
“Yeah,” Caden responded. Then Nolan called his mom and asked to pick them up, and they simply walked out the skate park door and back to where they got dropped off.
I know, I know. This might sound crazy, but it is important. I need your help! My teacher is a monster, no joke. I reported this to my mom, but she did not believe me.
I need support or else I will be forced to export myself into a different classroom. Today, I had to do a math test. See? She’s one mean monster.
“Do your math test now, ” my teacher says.
“Uhhh,” I sigh. “Do I have to?”
“Yes,” she replies with rage.
“Fine. Uhhh,” I grumble.
I must find an opportunity to get out of this classroom! Maybe at lunchtime I can sneak out and run home. Yeah, yeah! I thought. I should do that.
One time, a reporter visited our school to interview the students. He interviewed me, and I told him all the crazy stories about how much math our monstrous teacher gives us–not to mention the math tests.
In fact, our teacher has this crazy idea of living in a portable tent inside the classroom–probably so she has more time to make tests! I have seen all the math tests she is making. How monstrous is she? It is like she has a whole portfolio of tests.
“Listen up! These tests have great importance, so do your best or else!” my teacher says.
“Or else?” I question. “What do you mean by that.”
She does not reply, so I keep working. Finally, it is dismissal time, and I go to wait for my transportation to arrive. By that I mean that I wait for my parents to pick me up from school.
Past Years’ Winning Stories
The Big Story
I’m a reporter. Yes, I report things. I’m doing a big, important, story for the local newspaper. I have left our building to go interview a school’s principal and the sixth grade teachers. Then I will interview random people. This is a tough job, but I am lucky. I get a lot of support from my family and friends.
Before I go to the school, I have to pick up my boss from the airport and bring him to his car, so he can watch me do my first interview. My transportation: the business/company car. This is the biggest opportunity for my career. I’ve never interviewed anyone before.
I retrieve my boss from the airport and transport us to the school to begin the assignment. The interview is going okay, I guess. I’m interviewing Mr. Williamson, the principal, and he remembers me from when I was a student at the school. I have to write down everything he says, word for word. It is a challenge, but I have to suck it up because, like I said, this is very important. While answering my questions, Mr. Williamson, of course, makes some jokes. Then the interview is finished. As I clean up and prepare to interview the sixth grade teachers, I put all of my work in my portfolio, and I pull out my portable device.
When the sixth grade teachers walk in, I instantly remember them. The first teacher: Colorful, Cowboy boots, and Coffee. That’s Ms. M. Artistic style, and is laughing at something Ms.M said. That’s Ms. H. I wonder if they remember me. I introduce myself. They don’t seem to know me. Ms. M whispers something to Ms. H. I hear something about one of their old students, and Ms. H. laughs and says, “Is that really her?” Ms. M. whispers something, and Ms. H. smiles. Now, I think they remember me. Yep, they remember me. Then we continue with the interview.
The Man from the News
One day at the airport, there was a reporter standing on the sidewalk near the entrance. I knew this was my only opportunity for me to get on T.V. I dressed up like the man from the news—I threw on some slacks and a nice shirt and then grabbed a portfolio that was on the ground. I talked like everything I had to say was super important so it would be more believable. I jumped up there with the reporter and shared about the importance of family-friendly transportation like bullet trains and triple-decker buses.
When we were done, I asked the reporter if she had heard the report going around that I was not really the guy from the news. She looked at me like I was crazy and threatened to call the police and have them deport me. I told her I was just trying to support my family and I was so sorry. I begged her to please not call the police. She was still mad, but she didn’t call law enforcement. I learned my lesson—not to impersonate other people.
The Grammar Report
The importance of grammar is that it teaches you about spelling, punctuation, and vague word choices. You can learn about intensive pronouns, vague pronouns, and any corrections you can make. I have a portable packet of grammar tools to support my answers and corrections.
For example, over the weekend, I worked on my report at the busy Oakland airport. It was hard to focus, though. The weather reporter wouldn’t stop blaring over the loud speaker. The export for the cargo plane was canceled, and that incident made me write down a totally bizarre answer on my rough draft.
For my report display, I imported some poster board I purchased on the Internet. I thought the display was fancy with its Hello Kitty patterned background. The transportation of the board took so long that it left me only two days to put my project together. That was a great excuse for sloppy work, though!
Finally, it was the day that the long-term project was due! Sadly, everybody’s poster was more thorough and neater than mine was. I guess the import delay wasn’t a great excuse after all. Bryce Anderson, the richest person at our school, had a porter carrying his poster for him. He felt too important so as usual, he also brought his goons with him.
Well, here it goes. Wish me luck; I’m up to share!
One cloudy Saturday morning, my family had on the news. The news reporter says that there is an event being held downtown for only 6th, 7th, and 8th graders. My best friend Kylee and I ask if we could go, but my parents start going on and on about the rules. They something here like, “This is a big opportunity for you girls to be mature and go alone. It is a good chance for you to learn the importance of being responsible without an adult.” Then they say something there like “You guys have to figure out transportation, and get money to buy a lunch.” Kylee suggested that we have our parents take us to the airport and then we can have a private jet fly us there. I note that I have a much better idea: “I ask my parents if they can drive us and Kylee asks her parents if they can lend us some money for lunch.” It’s settled! Before we leave, our parents keep talking to us about things like “If anything bad happens, just call home and report, and we will come pick you up.” Their last words before we got in the car were “Hopefully, people will support your event!”
When we arrive, the first thing we have to do is look through a portfolio about what we will be doing. Then we had to transport boxes from the truck to the people waiting in line. We worked really hard and just as it is over something happens and all we know is we heard someone yell. A big dog is attacking a girl, and she is really getting hurt. We run over to try and get the dog away but that just gets us hurt, too. We fall down and get blacked out, when we wake up we are at home with our parents taking care of us. They told us how if we had listened to them, none of this would have happened. We totally should have listened to them. I learned that it is very important to rules told to you by adults in your life because they tell you that for a reason. They only do it to protect me, and I am thankful for them to be there for me.
Have you ever been to Dreamland, where all your biggest dreams come true?
Where the trees are made of candy and the skies are cotton blue?
Where the airport is real clouds there to transport you
Where being important came naturally, and love was in the air
Where when you were feeling sad, support is always there
Where happiness was full of importance, and not just yours, but everyone else’s, too
Where when you are hungry, cake will just appear
And when you’re feeling thirsty, hot chocolate’s good for you?
And in this world it’s not perfect, people will still cry,
But even when they’re crying, no one here dies.
In this world, there’s no school, so no writing any reports
And all days are spent swimming in the golden lake,
Sun rays always showing, even in a storm
And here snow does not melt; it’s also portable
And hearing the birds chirping, humming their sweet songs
And sorrow is lost and never found at break of dawn.
The reporters only say good news because there’s barely any bad
Opportunity is with everyone, at least one time around
And knives are made for cutting bread and food is made to chew
Because everything is amazing when you transport yourself to Dreamland
Where your biggest dreams come true
The News Report
“Attention, everybody!” yelled Mr. Davenson as he came running into the office part of our newsroom. “I have very important news! There is a huge storm coming up in Hawaii in about a week. I want a team out there ASAP. There will be a gazillion teams out there, and I want my team there first.”
Everybody looked up, and three of the teams raced up to him. He finally chose a team, yelling, “Maddie, get ready; your team has a 9:00 a.m. flight to Hawaii tomorrow!” My team—Jackson, Jasmine, Riley, and me—stared at Mr. Davenson in awe and were sent home immediately to start packing.
My team all got up really early the next day and decided who was going to transport us to the airport. We gave Riley the opportunity to drive us there, but, as usual, he threw a fit, and Jasmine ended up driving.
Once on the plane, the ride was very bumpy, and it rained most of the time. Jackson said he had to go to the bathroom about thirty minutes before landing and said he couldn’t hold it even though he was a grown man, so he finally went. When he returned to his seat, he had a look of disgust on his face. He said, “The toilets are like the portable ones you would usually use at the fair or the pumpkin patch! They were gross.”
Jasmine, Riley, and I sighed, all thinking, We told you so! Well, that was just Jackson being Jackson.
We finally arrived to Hawaii, and it was pouring rain. Even thought the storm wasn’t supposed to hit for a week, it was still a little stormy out. Jasmine immediately started to take notes and draw pictures in her portfolio.
The days passed, and the day of the storm came. We were the first reporters on the scene. We almost literally had to hold onto something to keep from blowing away because of how windy it was. The rain was coming down nearly as hard as pebbles. We struggled to get out our equipment in the storm, and finally managed, starting to broadcast our weather report, as did several other reporting teams. We all had a look of curiosity on our faces when a palm tree fell over not too far away from us. Luckily, Riley wasn’t being lazy as usual and caught it on camera. I thought of the little kids who lived here and who were probably nestled in their beds hiding.
There was a woman running around looking for her dog, and Jasmine had the integrity to help the woman find her dog. She made a gesture to us when she was done, and we finally finished her report.
When we returned home, we were so tired. A week later, Mr. Davenson stopped in the middle of the office to make another announcement, this one about a storm in Alaska. We were not happy when he looked towards us and gave us his evil grin. He called out, “Maddie, your team gets the job.”
Why does the airport always have to be this crowded? She flipped her hair as she smiled at her fans as if they were important. Trixie had enough to worry about without all these people and reporters. All this celebrity business was getting out of hand.
“Trixie! Trixie!” exclaimed a reporter while running up to her. “I heard that you are singing a duet with Taylor Swift!”
“Yes! It’s a huge opportunity for me. Tay is such a great singer, and a great person! I’ve been getting a lot of support from her lately,” Trixie gushed. That’s what her manager had told her to say.
“Bob! Are you getting this?” the reporter yelled at the camera man. Trixie heard her flight was boarding and she ran to the entrance. She wanted to be there first for a window seat. When you’re in the middle, an airplane is the worst transportation imaginable. Trixie put her portable suitcase above her seat; the porter had taken her other luggage already. She sat down and heard the hum of the engine and the movement of the wheels as they rolled down the runway.
One foggy day, I was on the city transportation, the bus. I saw a bunny rabbit driving, and I mean a real bunny rabbit. I knew that this was not going to be a normal day. But this was the only opportunity to get to the airport. That is because I don’t have a car, and the airport is five miles away.
Right when the bus made it to my stop, I saw a news reporter rush up the silver bus steps. She started asking the bunny rabbit questions. She had so many questions that they were flowing fifty-five miles per hour.
I finally stepped off the bus, and I heard a whisper. It was the bunny rabbit, “Be careful,” he said, which I didn’t think was very important that he said this. When I made it inside, they asked me for my portfolio, and I don’t understand why. When I saw the plane, I thought that it would fall apart in mid-flight. I thought that because it wasn’t well supported.
Since I had to wait two hours for the plane to arrive at my destination, I was very thankful that my mom and dad had packed me my portable computer. The airport, somehow, forgot to transport my cargo, which stunk.
I had come all this way to Alaska for my new job as a crewman. For this job, I imported fish and whatnot, like fruit and vegetables. It was a good job until I got fired for no reason. So I went on and lived my amazing life, as a millionaire.
Family Trip to Hawaii
I was so excited because I had the opportunity to go to Hawaii with my family! We finished packing our bags; then a shuttle came to transport us to the airport. When we got there, we checked our bags and got our flight information. It was important that we got to the right gate so we would not miss our flight. Once I boarded the plane, I got out my portable video game.
I was in awe when they stopped the plane from taking off, and the security guards ran in and arrested some guy who was trying to export illegal explosives. The pilot requested support from the control tower, and then we got going again. The plane got up in the air, and soon I could not see the ground. Five hours later, our plane landed in Hawaii and we went to our hotel.
There was a porter at the hotel entrance who helped us transition into our hotel and unpack our bags. During the trip, I had to complete my independent study by making an art portfolio and writing a report. I got it all done and had an amazing trip. I went snorkeling, saw a fire show, and held a bunch of parrots simultaneously. It was a very memorable trip, and I will never forget it.
Stealing is NOT an Option
I whisk away at my portable computer. I think in my head for something to write. I take in a deep breath, and the sweet sensation of a triple caramel frappuccino hits my nose like a waterfall of delicious. I see someone clumsily transport a hot beverage. He slides from place to place as if he is roller skating. I see the coffee slip from his hand and onto my crisp, white pants. The liquid sears my skin like fire. My skin feels as if it has been charcoaled, ready for a barbeque. I rush to the bathroom, pushing people aside as if they weigh nothing. I thrust open the door and rub my pants, trying to get rid of the stain. I walk out of the bathroom as if nothing has happened, sipping my frappuccino. I look over at my table, and my cup flies out of my hands. My computer has disappeared. My eyes dart through the coffee shop. That computer is of great importance. It has my book that I had been previously working on. I see someone exiting the door with a shiny corner pointing out of his jacket—my laptop. What would I do for that laptop? That I do not know.
I hurry out the door, seeing the man jumping over a brick wall like Spiderman. I pull my weight over the wall and speed down the corner. I see a glance of silver turning the corner, and I rush for it. I pull the person over, and it is an old lady.
“Hands to yourself, sonny!” she exclaims as she beats me with her cane. I run away, pulling out my phone and use a tracking device that I installed on my computer. I rush in the other direction, hoping that I will be able to cut off the thief. I dial my friend’s number. I am dialing Riley; he’s a cop and maybe he can help me.
“Riley, someone has stolen my laptop; come quickly!” I gasp. Minutes later, he shows up in his shiny car. We dart off as I look for the man. I see him and we pull around. Riley takes out his Taser. Riley runs in the front of the thief, and points the Taser at him as I creep around the back.
“Hands in the air!” Riley yells. The man runs toward Riley, sliding like a base runner. Riley pulls the Taser’s trigger and zaps me, sending me back. My body shakes around, withering in pain. I finally collapse.
I awake in Riley’s cop car zooming down the street. We have a golden opportunity because the thief is walking now, not realizing we are right on his tail. I walk out of the car, picking up speed every step, and I lunge at him. I grasp onto his shoulder, but he shakes my hand off and runs to the airport, which is nearby.
I bring myself back up to my feet and bolt in his direction. I reach the airport and immediately see him take off and he run up an escalator— the down escalator. I bolt up it, too, my head swinging in every direction until I see him. He zooms into a women’s clothing store. I bolt in myself. I run past racks and hangers, and see that the thief is at a dead end. I see someone transporting a box, and he knocks into me. I look up and the thief has disappeared.
Riley is now at the airport, too, supporting me by picking me up in his car. We are driving toward the man. We are all nearing a bridge where I see a reporter telling about how cold the water below is. The man is there, staring into the water. I see a truck importing corn and another exporting corn. I don’t stop. I leap from the car, charging the man, making a hard blow to his face. He stumbles back, dropping my precious laptop. I sink to my knees in despair.
Next, I see Riley at the car, and he pulls something out of his jacket. It is my laptop.
“I drove by in a boat and caught it,” he explains. I didn’t answer; I was in total awe of Riley’s talents. I guess I should have backed everything up on a flash drive.
The Incident that Might Have Changed My Life Forever
“Mom, all my stuff is packed. Are you ready to go to Rhode Island, yet?” I asked my mom, sounding like I had just woke up at 6:30, which I did, unfortunately.
It was time to go to the airport, and we would board a plane that would transport my mom and me to the petite state of Rhode Island. This opportunity was extremely important to me because a reporter would follow me around and ask me questions about my experiences being a jockey.
* * *
Multiple hours later, I was getting my horse, Knight Cap, ready and all tacked up to go. My mom, Angie, wished me good luck and I mounted Knight Cap and rode to the starting line. At this point, Greg, my reporter was writing in his report about how nervous and shaky I was.
“DIIIING! AND THEY’RE OFF!” shouted the announcer, as if he was a formidable, old man yelling at a kid to get off his land.
Knight Cap was off to a great start, but then suddenly his hoof got stuck in a freshly dug gopher hole. I went flying about seven feet ahead of Knight Cap, and I heard the crunching of my wrist being stepped on by a horse. I noticed I had a colossal gash were my wrist bent, and it was gushing blood like a waterfall gushes water. I knew I couldn’t scream or cry because it would only make things worse and might make my wrist gush blood faster, so I stayed as calm as I could.
When I saw the paramedics come, I thought, “Yes, now I can get better after this terrible incident.”
The paramedics put me on a stretcher for extra support, and when I saw my mom cry, I did, too. A female doctor, named Dr. Sam, took an x-ray of my wrist, and then she did it, uttered the thing I didn’t want her to say, and what she said was, “Sweetie, I’m afraid we have to amputate your hand, because there is too much damage to the bones and nerves, and we cannot save your hand.”
My mom and I both started to cry and said in unison, “Why? Why?” Then we finally agreed that the importance of this prognosis was that I would heal and I would get to ride again, so my mom told Dr. Sam that we would get the operation.
* * *
Luckily, when it was time to travel home, my medical machinery was portable, so that I could bring it with me on the long trip back to California. I had to have machinery because if my arm started to bleed like crazy, I needed some stuff to stop it. When my mom and I got home, we had to export some of the most expensive machinery back to Rhode Island.
Only three years later, I started to do what I loved again: ride horses. Then I was as happy as I had been before the huge incident.
I had just arrived at the airport in Vyyn, an enormous jungle full of waterfalls and exotic birds, two days earlier. I imported illegal birds for a living, but I was so cunning I had never been caught. As I walked into my hotel, a well-dressed porter took my bags. The transportation to the hotel was ghastly, but with the comfort and support of my millions of dollars, I got through it.
I was in Vyyn to meet a very important client who was looking to buy illegal Scarlet Macaws for a boatload of money. Of course, I was already rich, but after that buy, I was going to be rich enough to buy another gigantic mansion. The importance of this buy was tremendous. The opportunity was a once-in-a-lifetime offer, so I jumped on it, not bothering to cover my tracks from the FBI. That was my fatal flaw.
I had to transport the macaws quickly or else the buyer would find someone else. As it turned out, the buyer was actually an undercover FBI agent, but I didn’t know that at the time. Before I was caught, my wealth and fame in the criminal world had been admired by many young, budding criminals.
When I was cuffed on the day of the drop, the last thing I heard before I was locked up was a reporter saying,”Chester, one of the biggest illegal importers, has been caught. We are all sitting on the edge of our chairs, waiting to see what his sentence will be.” And that was the big bang.
The Professional Barrel Racer
As my buckskin horse, Bold Ruler, and I sped around the first wobbly barrel, we were in close proximity to it. My heart was racing as we passed the finish line. Even though my ride was only ten seconds long, it felt as though it had been ten hours long.
A nosy reporter pushed and shoved people with her petite hands just to get to me. She asked me how I felt about my ride. She asked that question and others about the competition so she could write a news report about a barrel racer. “I feel like I did an amazing job,” I replied in my high-pitched voice in answer to her first question, still nervous about what place I might take in the event.
When the announcer’s voice came through the loud speakers, pandemonium broke out when he announced, “First place goes to Chloe Johnson.” This was the beginning to becoming a worldwide favorite barrel racer. I grabbed Bold Ruler, and we were off to the middle of the dirt-filled arena. The announcer brought me a microphone, and I said, “This was so important to me, and I want to thank my mom for all of the support she has given me.” Again pandemonium broke out in the arena.
As we arrive at the airport a month after my big win, I prepare for the opportunity to compete in the Barrel Racing Championships. After the airplane transported my mom and me to Texas, I settled in and feel right to sleep. Of course, Bold Ruler was transported by trailer all the way from Tennessee to the blazing hot state of Texas.
At my practice the next day, I was getting completely frustrated because I kept on knocking over barrels. I guess I was just nervous about the competition.
On the day of the event, when I heard the crowd going wild in the bleachers of the arena, I felt like someone had ripped out my heart. My stomach had butterflies in it, too. Like a supersonic rocket, Bold Ruler and I sped around the barrels like nobody’s business, Bold Ruler’s hooves beating the ground like a drum. I could hear him breathing from wear I was sitting on my worn out saddle. My ride was flawless, and our time was 9.8 seconds.
At the end of the competition, when the announcer’s voice jumped off the walls saying, “Chloe Johnson,” everything was in complete slow motion. The audience gave me a standing ovation.
When I think back to that day, I become very proud of myself for my accomplishments. Me fans were so supportive and even made me a portfolio of Bold Ruler and myself. Some of my fans even volunteered to be my porter, willing to carry my bags when I traveled, but I said, “No way, Jose.” Thank goodness my trophy and check award were portable because I didn’t want to wait a million years to have it sent to me. I am so proud of Bold Ruler.
Past Years’ Winning Stories
The Celebrity Crash!
“No questions please!” she said.
“We have to ask questions!” a man yelled
“Why?” Elika asked.
“We’re reporters! We need to make reports!” the man replied.
“Oh! Look; she’s wearing a breast cancer pin! The small pink ribbon!” a girl cried out. Elika smiled and rushed into her limousine, with a porter putting all her luggage in the trunk.
Can’t a movie star EVER get any peace? I know everyone just wants an opportunity to meet someone famous, but it gets a little overwhelming sometimes, too! I hope it won’t be too crowded at the airport! I wish I could transport myself to Grammy’s house! Air travel is my least favorite form of transportation, but at least I get some peace on the airplane! I can’t wait to get to Grammy’s house! Elika thought.
“Please turn off your phones and buckle your seat belts. We will depart in a few seconds.” a voice announced. Elika opened her art portfolio. This portfolio was very important to her since the portfolio held every single picture she had made since kindergarten. Elika never went anywhere without it. She had decided to give it to her kind and loving grandmother. She knew this would not help her grandma, but she would be happy seeing all the pictures Elika had made. Elika knew very well that this might be her last time meeting her grandmother. Unfortunately, her grandmother was suffering from breast cancer. Every time Elika visited her grandma, she thought the same thing. Will I ever see Grammy again?
Before she heard the news, Elika had never thought of the importance her grandmother held in her life. She just thought that her grandma would always be there for her, but after she heard the news, it was all she could think about. What will I do when she’s not there? What if some sort of incident happens before I can talk to her? What if… soon her mind would be filled with questions, and she would grow incredibly tired. Elika opened her backpack, pulled out her portable music player, put on the headphones, and drifted off to sleep.
BEEEEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEEEEEEP! Elika awoke to find the airplane shaking and people yelling.“Don’t worry!” a voice yelled, but Elika didn’t hear it because just then the whole world went black.
To be continued…
On Hallow’s Eve night when all the streets are aglow, and trick-or-treat is the only word you speak, I am watching you and your every move for my Halloween Happenings newsletter. I see the regular, boring, uncreative, unimaginative, most anticipated costumes ever. I see neighborhoods as busy as airports, packed with squirming, worming children and panicking adults. I see kids as bossy as reporters when they want a question answered, with the, “This is my world” attitude to accompany it. I see kids with adults trailing behind like private porters for their candy bags that weigh ten tons. As you can tell, I am a wonderful observer, and I take every opportunity I can to practice my super stealth skills. But the real loot, the happenings of more importance I have witnessed, are right below, for your eager eyes I’m sure!
Where to start, where to start? How about…costumes?! The funniest costume was a tomato. Now, I’m not sure if the boy was so fat because of his costume, or if it was the fact that he had eaten too much candy, but in any case, he looked like he needed some support because he was wobbling to and fro and ended up looking like a drunken tomato! I also saw a ninja who looked so real he might have been exported straight from Japan, except for his vibrant yellow color–good luck sneaking up on someone! There must have been an around-the-world theme that year because I also spied a baby dressed as a Chinese take-out box labeled, Imported from China, with the mom as the delivery truck for the baby’s transportation! That’s what I call creative!
This, I report, is what happens on Hallow’s Eve. Now, if you will excuse me, I’d like to find a rather nice tree and watch the stars blink out. There goes one, two, three….
The Endangered Steller Sea Lion Save
Splish splash! Splish splash! Gurgle gurgle! Splip! I was exploring the jungle for a news report, when I heard someone say there was an endangered Steller sea lion on the loose! I could hear the gurgle of a waterfall nearby so that would be the first place to look. The mission was to transport the Steller sea lion to where it would be safe and to protect these creatures from extinction! I was a reporter in training so I absolutely knew it would be of great importance to complete the assignment.
After a few minutes of slashing at the loose branches and leaves covering the threshold to the waterfall, I finally reached my destination. I searched the waters for the sea lion, but could find no sign of life in the waterfall except for a few fish swimming around the bottom. When I first started flying here, I thought it would be a piece of cake looking for a huge, furry, brown body roaming the island, but after I did my research….I thought not. The sea lion would not only be in the water, but also on land, making it even harder to meet my objective. It was going to be hard to comport myself with dignity while traveling all over the island to save an endangered species and then to write a news report about the experience.
After hours or traveling the island with my portfolio filled with maps and research, there was still no sign of the Stellar sea lion. Scribble scribble scribble. I was writing down all the events that had happened so far in case something mysterious happened. Splash splash! Whoosh! Was there something in the ocean just ahead of me? Arf Arf Arf! Was that a Steller sea lion?! I whipped out the sea lion information in my portfolio, and there in front of me were a male and a female sea lion! There was one smaller one and one larger one, and the larger one was definitely a male because of his size. I couldn’t miss this opportunity! I called in for back-up to make sure other marine experts would have something portable to haul the sea lions into the jet so we could take off for our destination.
In a few minutes, the back-up team was there to move the Steller sea lions into the jet and into a portable glass cage with the top open and a beach theme to it. As they were doing this, I was scratching down information for the news report onto my sheet of paper. I was writing all about the experience I had had. I jumped into the jet as we were leaving the island and provided extra support carrying the sea lions to the lab since they weighed a ton. It was now important for me to tell my boss that I had completed the task, complete with a full news report to tell about.
“Hello?” Sara, my boss, questioned as I reached her at her office telephone.
“It’s Laura,” I replied, “I completed the assignment and have collected a bunch of new data for a news report.”
“Bring it back to the office, and the written final draft of your report will be due on Monday morning.”
“Definitely; I’ll see you at the office soon. I’m just heading to the airport now to catch a flight back to Michigan.”
“The Steller Sea Lion Saving”
Laura Locks has just found an endangered species, titled the Steller sea lion.
She was determined to set out to find them and to make their species plentiful again, by going to a deserted island
and locating a female and male Steller sea lion. She met her objective and found a male weighing approximately 2,500 pounds
and a female weighing in at about 750 pounds. Scientists are still trying to determine where to send the Steller sea lions
so they’ll be safe again. Say Hooray to Laura Locks.”
Sara read my report when I turned it into her on Monday morning. “Good work,” she announced. “We will broadcast this onto Fox news and put it into newspapers everywhere. Congratulations, Laura.”
This had been a good opportunity, and I was glad I had achieved my goal, not only because I was going to be broadcast everywhere, but also because I saved an endangered species! It had been a win-win event between the Steller sea lions and me.
Captured! By Frogs?
“Ahhhh!” I screeched as I tumbled toward the unfathomable forest. Kerplunk! Cree…eak! This was the sound of my ankle as it broke into two. Was this it? Was this the conclusion of my life? Where was I? I thought as I wondered to myself. Then it finally occurred to me that I had stumbled upon the mysterious forest, a.k.a., backyard.
My ankle was throbbing, and it needed support. My eyes searched through the plush, uninhabited forest. I was rigid with apprehension, just like the time I took the wrong flight and was lost in the airport. However, this was much more terrifying because I just knew there were human beings involved somewhere, out there. Who knew this would happen? I wished that I hadn’t tried to catch the frog that fell off my grandma’s deck. After all, that was how I landed here.
Tears sluiced down my face as I remembered how I literally nagged my grandma to death about not letting me go down to the forest. I should have listened! All I could hear was the wind was rushing through the bushes…rush-plickla, rush-plickla! I jolted, and my voice quivered as I whispered, “Who’s there?” My ankle was throbbing as I slithered toward one of the decrepit sap trees.
“Shhhhhh! She’s going to hear us,” I heard someone call out. A hidden creature eerily screeched, “Hehehehe…Shhh! We have a visitor.”
By now, I was paralyzed, and I didn’t dare move a muscle! “Whoa! Who said that?” I silently uttered to myself.
“Camille, where are you? It is twelve, and I told you to come in for lunch.” I could hear my grandma project her voice in a melodic tone. Oh, how I wished I could skedaddle back up the deck and run to my grandma.
“Grandma, Grandma!” I cried till my throat was as dry as the Mohave Desert. Fluids drained from my ankle and made it look cyanotic.
Plish-rish-rustle! A few seconds later a miniscule, lime green frog bobbled out. “I’m Fiddlerog, and I’m a reporter for my village,” the frog said in a sassy tone. I couldn’t believe what was happening. My mind was muddled! “Come along,” the frog squealed. “Here is your transportation train. It was a diminutive train, and it felt as if I was in a whole new world. I crawled onto something that appeared to be a lily pad, and it was connected to a small frail piece of twine. Seconds later, a porter came to punch my ride ticket that Feddlerog had given to me. It felt as if I had been imported to a whole new universe. I was completely surrounded by frogs, and I knew there would not be one little opportunity to escape. I could see the world around me get a whole lot bigger. Being surrounded by so many frogs gave me the chance to think things through. I could remember on Easter when my Uncle Joel covertly sauntered to the forest and hid the one hundred dollar egg. But how? I never really found out how he got down to the forest, or how he was exported back to my grandma’s house. He wouldn’t have jumped. Then suddenly it dawned on me that there had to be a stairway. And I would find it! My eyes searched the forest up and down and all around.
Ultimately, I found an aging wooden stairway camouflaged by all that poison oak my grandma had told me about. As I was running through the poison oak to the stairway, all those lime green frogs were chasing after me. I finally made it to the hot tub on my Grandma’s deck, and I lured the frogs into the water. When the last frog plopped into the water, I slammed the hot tub cover closed and imprisoned all the frogs. Just as I was thinking my ordeal was over, I started having an urge to scratch my legs, and I noticed a red rash spreading on my body. My grandma was right; the joke was on me!
A Trip to the Middle East
“Finally!” I shouted to myself. They finally accepted me to be a reporter. This job would actually give me an opportunity to be on television. the only bad thing about the job was that I had to write a lot of reports.
My first assignment was to see how California imports oil from the Middle East. On the way to that part of the world, my transportation would be an airplane. I was supposed to meet my camera crew at the airport at 7:00 a.m.
When we arrived in the Middle East, we went to an oil rig. I was shocked by how much oil there was. Then I realized that the importance of oil was a big thing in America. In my piece, I reported on how much support we were getting from the Middle East.
When I returned to America, my parents threw a welcome back party. I exited my car, and my dad came rushing through to hug me. He took my bags and carried them into the house like a porter would do. When we were eating dinner, I got a phone call from my boss. He said my next assignment was was to see how Canada exports lead to America. I couldn’t wait!
The dry, flat land glides under the city’s airport, where large fowls land from soaring in the discomforting air of the dry, flat world. Transportation is hard to find, but baboons find ways. The mothers simply are used as porters and carry their children to different estates of the towns. The opportunity to find good deals at the grocery center is slim, so all the mommies and daddies must hunt, gather, and support their young in the wild! Some of these some times cross animals are reporters, and being reporters, they get to write all different kinds of reports about the goings-on in the city/town. Homes are important to these fuzzy natives. They build houses of rough, dead tree bark and try to find homes in splendid bushes and fallen trees. Since there are no portable water jugs, critters must go from watering hole to watering hole in search of some nice fresh drinks of water. Usually, the importance of clothes is that they slenderize because of these critters’ soft, some times feathery, and leathery pelts. This place is somewhere, so don’t deport it from your mind and say it is gibberish…. Just go to the desert.
It was silent, too silent. I was at an L.A. airport undercover as a reporter spying on a man named William Waggish! It was of importance for me to ask him certain questions such as these: Why are you in L.A., who are you meeting with, and why? I’ve been undercover before, but I’ve failed several times, so this is my last opportunity to regain my reputation as an undercover operative.
Anyway, William Waggish’s transportation had arrived, so I waited near the plane, getting ready for the best or the worst! I had heard information that Mr. Waggish had exported stuff from Africa that was then imported here. Maybe that will be my first question: What did you export from Africa to the United States.
As I saw his porter walk toward the exit, I started to give extra support in my legs so I could spring at them. William Waggish in the flesh! “Hello, son,” my dad said.
“How was your flight?” I answered.
My dad, William Waggish, said in reply, “It was fine.”
“Can we go get some ice cream?” I asked.
“Sure,” he replied.
After that, I would report back to headquarters to tell what I had learned about William Waggish’s travels. However, for now, I would spend time with my dad.
Till next time, this is your reporter signing off for now.
How to Become Rich
There was a man named Robert Torres. Robert was a reporter for the Legate Times. He was six foot two, he had a full beard, and he had short, jet black hair. Robert lived alone, with the exception of his bull dog, Jubble, in a small two-bedroom apartment. He lived an uninteresting, repetitive life until the day when everything changed.
Robert was on his way to work to give a report about the importance of goods that are imported and exported, when suddenly, a piece of paper came flying in his car window while he was driving. Screeeeech went the tires as his car came to a stop. “Oh, my God!” yelled Robert as he examined the paper. It was a Lotto ticket with a winning number that had been announced on the radio that morning. The ticket was for a thirty million dollar jackpot!
Robert knew he had to invest the winnings. He would never have this opportunity again. Robert had a friend who was working for a small company called Microsoft. The company was just starting up, and Robert decided to invest everything into Microsoft stocks.
Once invested, Robert was worried about his investment until two months later. Stocks boomed, making him richer than ever before. He didn’t need anyone’s support in order to retire. He decided to move to Hawaii and to settle down and live with Jubble. He went to the airport because it was the only transportation he could use to get there.
After arrival, the porter brought Robert his luggage and drove him to his beachfront penthouse, where he lived happily.
It was the holiday season; the smell of cranberries and spices filled your nose as you walked past a store. Every year I wished for snow, but snow I did not get. I was watching the news and the reporter announcing that it would be 50 degrees Fahrenheit. I lived in San Francisco, where it was cold and rainy, but never snowed. Every year on my Christmas list, I wanted for it to snow. This year I was going to pray and wish for snow!
There were only three days until Christmas, and my mom and I were on our way to the airport to pick up my grandparents. My grandparents were from New York, where it snowed lots, and they were coming to San Francisco to celebrate Christmas. This year we had an opportunity to go to New York, but my mom said it was a tradition to have Christmas at our house, so it was important to have it in San Francisco. My dad supported my mom’s reason, so that’s why we were still in California for the fifth time in a row.
We arrived at my house, and my dad and two brothers were on the porch waiting to greet my grandparents. I ran inside, grabbing my portable computer to check the weather report. On Christmas Eve, it was supposed to be rainy and forty degrees. I jumped for joy and hoped for it to snow.
Finally, it was Christmas Eve. It was rainy, but not cold. I hoped by tonight it would be cold because then it might snow. I had always wanted a “White Christmas.” In the movies, everyone has a “White Christmas.” The movie characters always run outside in their pajamas, snowflakes falling on them. It was time for to go to sleep, so my mom tucked me in bed and turned off the lights as she walked downstairs.
The next morning, Christmas morning, I awoke to snow on my windowsill. I smiled in delight as I looked out the window to see our grass covered in snow. I rushed downstairs to find my parents making breakfast and my brothers and grandparents sitting at the kitchen table watching the news. The news reporter said that public transportation would not be available because of the massive quantity of snow piled on the streets. I then ran outside, my face getting chilled as I stepped outside. I next drew a picture of that amazing event, and then added it to my portfolio. My wish had come true, and I was as happy as could be!
No Parents Allowed!
This is so cool! I think to myself. This is the first time I have ever been in a limo; we are on our way to the airport to drop off my parents. I have been to the airport lots of times, but we have never had this kind of transportation. Although even with the limousine, it’s kind of hard to enjoy this experience, with my brother Dylan leaning on me the whole time saying “Stop the car. I’m going to puke!” He always has been prone to puking. At least, that’s what I think.
When we finally arrive, my dad pulls me aside and says , “Now, Jenny, since you’re thirteen, your mom and I believe you are old enough to take care of your brother for four days while we’re gone, but we are going to have Karen check in on you. I think you know the importance of being responsible. You do know that, right?” I nod, but I am way too busy looking at a cute purse that a girl walking by has. “Good,” he says with lots of enthusiasm.
We say our good-byes, and Dylan and I get back in the limo; as she is walking away, I see a small tear slide down my mother’s cheek. It’s only four days I think. What could go wrong?
“Come on, Chelsea, this is the perfect opportunity to show my parents that I’m mature enough to handle this and it would be great if you would support me,” I say to my best friend, on the phone. I am nervous that something will go wrong, but I don’t want to say anything. I wait for Chelsea’s reply, while I gently stroke my light chestnut hair, when suddenly, there comes a tapping, as if someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. I hang up the phone and whisper, “It’s just a visitor tapping at my chamber door, only this and nothing more.” I get up from the couch and check the peephole in the door: “Only Karen and nothing more.”
“Hi guys!” Karen says cheerfully.
“Hi!” Dylan and I replied.
“Your dad told me to come over tonight. He said it was very important that I check in with you.”
“Great,” I respond in my worst fake voice ever. “I have a report due tomorrow, so I can’t talk now” I explain, running eagerly to my room. Before I leave, though, I notice Karen give Dylan a look; he just replies, “I don’t know; she’s a teenager.”
In my room, I remember that I have school tomorrow. Who will transport me to school? Not Karen; she is my least favorite baby-sitter. I will probably take the bus. Just then rings the phone. “Hello?” I ask.
“Hi , Honey! It’s Dad,” I hear through the phone’s receiver.
“Hi! How’s San Diego?” I inquire.
“Fine; your mother and I are dining on fancy food imported from Japan!”
“That’s great, Dad!” I lie.
“Yeah, and my boss submitted my portfolio, which means we will remain here for two more weeks, and Karen will be staying with you the whole time!”
I drop the phone and scream at the top of my lungs!
……………….To Be Continued Next Week……………….
Hello, my name is Shelby, and I’m a reporter for Fox News. I’m at the San Francisco airport. I’m here hoping to report on the importance of catching people involved in the illegal importing and exporting of drugs through public forms of transportation. I’m looking for my opportunity to break a story about corruption within airport security because last week, this story first broke when it was discovered that porters were supporting drug trades across the Mexican and U.S.A border for a small fee.
It all started on a cold winter day: January 26, 2005 to be exact. The wind whistled as it blew past Detective Preston’s ear as he crouched down and examined an old bottle covered in a soft layer of white. He gently wrapped his fingers around the body of it before picking it up and shoving it into his leather jacket. Detective Preston soon climbed into his 2004 Dodge Ram truck that had piles of snow covering the windshield. He drove through windy roads that snaked through the hills. When he arrived home, he pulled the bottle from out of his pocket and handed it to his wife, Mrs. Preston.
“It is so exotic looking,” Mrs. Preston whispered.
“Very,” he agreed as he took the bottle from between her soft hands. He slowly ran the palm of his hand over the side of the bottle, and a soft blue mist jumped out of the golden bottle. All of a sudden, a beautiful genie stood by his wife. His wife stared blankly at the genie as she sat down on the gray couch, sinking into it. The genie smiled delicately and batted her eyelashes as she put her hand out to shake.
“I am Sadie, the genie,” she admitted.
“Do we get three wishes?” Sydney, the Prestons’ daughter questioned, appearing suddenly, as if summoned by the genie.
“Sydney…” Mrs. Preston mumbled under her breath.
“Yes… One for all of you,” Sadie chuckled and rubbed her hands.
“I wish…” Sydney began, “to…” she paused for a minute to think. “Be famous.”
“Very well then,” Sadie the genie clapped three times, spun around and blew a kiss, and then that’s when it happened.
Knock! Knock! Knock! The door screamed as a reporter swung open the door and held a new camera in his hand. “Sydney, baby.” He grinned slightly and… Click! A bright light blinded Sydney, and she let out a small cry, as she covered her eyes.
Two hours later…
Whoosh! “OK, Mrs. Preston, your wish.” Sadie smiled as the words left her mouth.
“I wish… that…we were at an airport going to Hawaii…” she snickered.
Sadie did the same movements as before, and they were at a wonderful airport, with a private jet parked right in front of them. The whole family gasped in surprise. “OK, now, Detective Preston, what is your wish?
“Money, for support,” he replied
The magical movements were shown again and… Bang! A suitcase fell from the sky and landed right before Detective Preston’s feet. He reached down and grasped the case with his warm hand. “Now is your opportunity. Go move somewhere; start a business of your own. Buy a new car for your transportation,” Sadie suggested.
“Good idea,” the family answered back.
The daughter, Sydney, began to think… Where is the porter to carry our luggage? Where is the coat I ordered from Paris, the imported thing I wanted oh-so-badly? Should I export my friend Lilah’s scarf she left here before she went to Michigan? Ugh, I wish this Sadie genie would leave…
Now, five years have passed. The family has another member…. Jennabea Preston. The family owns a cherry-red mustang and also Adopt and Foster, a kennel, where Sydney is the manager. The family has bonded more thanks to Sadie. Mrs. Preston is now a reporter for the weather channel, and everyone loves her. The only thing they don’t know… is that Sadie still watched over them. She visits them in their dreams, and her bottle still is placed on the Preston’s bookshelf, on the highest shelf. Nine words are printed onto the bottle now. They read: Sadie, the one we will always love and cherish.
It all started out with the craziest dream that I had ever had. I woke up in outer space! I saw spaceships and lasers. I felt like I was in Star Wars trying to take down enemy ships with powerful lasers.
“You are,” said a creepy voice behind me. “You are in a ten gig space cruiser and you are in the middle of a laser battle.” Pew, pew!
I looked behind me and saw someone in a space transport shooting lasers at a nearby ship. BAM! The ship went down in a flaming heap, and it plunged down into darkness, never to be seen again.
“Look out; we are under attack!” A rattling sound filled the ship, and we were shot.
“We’re hit,” wept the captain. An empty hole sat right in the middle of the engine room. We plummeted down hundreds, possibly thousands, of feet, down into space, and we questioned if we would ever stop falling. Then something strange happened… we stopped falling. I looked around and got off the cruiser. I stepped on the ground; then I floated about twelve feet high like a balloon. Beside me was my friend, Jamie.
“What are you doing? There is no gravity on this planet,” said one of the workers. “Here, you will need this,” said another one of the workers as she handed me this weird belt that she said would keep me from floating off. I told her, “Jamie and I are going to check the place out.”
We got in this super cool space cruiser, and he let me drive! This beats flying in the typical airport transportation. It was awesome! I was going so fast my breath froze in midair, and I could not inhale. I was having so much fun I didn’t notice the bad things that were happening behind my back. There were three small, gruesome creatures with little things that looked like laser guns. They said something I didn’t understand and shot at us. The lasers zoomed by me as if the creatures weren’t even trying to aim. I chortled to myself, and their gleaming green eyes stared through me like I was transparent. Then, taking over the driving, Jamie made a sharp turn, and he lost them. He parked back at the damaged ship and told a reporter what we had seen. I was glad that we had escaped being shot, but it was a great opportunity to ride in a space cruiser.
“Well, it is obviously not safe to go out there, so we will start fixing the ship,” said the captain. “We will have to export the damaged parts to the nearest planet and import new parts for the ship.” It was of great importance that the ship was fixed quickly before we got attacked again. We got a call from another ship that would help support us until our ship was repaired. The porter was responsible for the ship’s regular maintenance, so he was able to get the ship fixed once the new parts arrived.
I was bored while I waited, and I started to goof off with Jamie. The captain reminded me to comport myself with dignity, so I decided to get out my writing portfolio and start writing my report, which was due on Monday. The teacher had said it could be about anything, so I decided to write about my experience that I had just had. My teacher had said it was very important that the report be based on research, and I definitely did some research on the topic of space travel. My time in space was like a dream come true. I started my report. I described the spaceship. I had been in many replica spaceships before, but none were portable like this one. I continued to write my report until the captain said it was time for me to be deported to go back home.
“Hi! I am Andrea, and I am a kid reporter for events in our supportive community. Today I have a very special report! It’s about the transportation of an orca whale to the San Diego airport from the cold waters of Russia. You probably ask why it is so important. This report has great importance because they are about to import an estimated 8,000 pound orca whale to San Diego. Then they will export it back to Russia again after its special show and vet examination. For the orca whale to get to San Diego, it will need one big ticket for the porter at the sea port! This is my first opportunity to discuss a report with you. This is the report from channel 72.3, and good day, America!”
My name is Sally Smith, and I am a reporter. My job is very important. I had the opportunity to go to Washington, D. C., to give three reports about the weather. I had to transport some of my clothes in my suitcase, so I could take them with me to the airport. All of my friends supported me and were excited for me.
When I got on the airplane, I turned on my portable CD player. I was happy that I had brought it because without it, I would have been bored.
Once in Washington, D. C., after I had done my first report, I went to the hotel and went swimming, which was really fun. My transportation while in Washington was this car called a Prius. It was awesome!
After that, I gave my second report. I had done a really good job on the second report, but on the third report, I gave the wrong weather, and I was extremely embarrassed.
After leaving, I had to check out, get ready to leave the hotel, and go home. I said thank you to the broadcasters who had allowed me this reporting opportunity and then left feeling stupid.
When I got off the plane, I went to bed and didn’t even want to think about those reports.
The Mysterious Case
“Ahhhh!!!” I had heard an ear-piercing yell. I dashed to where I heard the yell. When I got to the spot, I saw a woman laid out flat on her kitchen floor like a starfish on a rock. When I inspected her, I noticed a deep cut in her neck. That was when I took the opportunity to call the police.
When the police arrived to the house, there were already news reporters surrounding the officers, asking them questions. “What do you think happened?” one reporter asked, while another shouted, “Do you think the victim was murdered?”
I had also called in an expert to inspect the body. He came to me and said, “This woman was murdered by an important person…This person had a ten-inch knife and he or she slit the victim’s throat.”
I was shocked. I had frozen up, wondering why this important person had murdered somebody. I then called my friend, Sean, to transport me to the airport, the place I had been headed when I first heard the scream. When I needed it, up till I was thirty-six years old, Sean had given me a lot of support. Now we were both forty and having fun with our lives.
At the airport, I got out of the car. I was going to fly to Washington. I needed to get the murder out of my head. Flying is the quickest transportation to travel somewhere far away, so I had gotten to Washington quickly and found a hotel room. Once in my room, I turned on the T.V. news. As I reclined on the bed, one newscaster said, “This just in. A murder has been committed in Petaluma. A woman was found dead on her kitchen floor.” I turned off the T.V. and went to bed fast.
The next day, I woke up and flew back to Petaluma to help solve this case. At the crime scene, I found fingerprints from the murderer on the door. I went to my house and compared the prints to prints of known criminals. I found out who the murderer was. It was a man who had just been exported from prison to the community. His name was George, and he had been in prison for robbing houses. Before being caught, George had robbed twenty-eight houses.
Next I asked the police for a report. They told me that an officer had found witness. I asked the witness’s job, and the chief told me that he was a porter at an apartment building. The porter had seen George lurking near the apartments downtown. I drove to the apartments and found George. I cuffed him, and he was put in jail for the rest of his life.