Short Stories
Larry The Leprechaun
By: Reagan Duchnowski
Larry was a leprechaun but when he followed the rainbow to the end there was nothing but grass and mud. Just the Earth. He didn’t get why all of the humans always thought there was a prize like a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. The humans even made him doubt himself that there was actually a prize but even though he knew that wasn’t a reality every time he saw one he would always check anyway. Every time he checked there was always nothing there and he somehow was always sad or let down by this fact. It is safe to say that Larry wasn’t very smart, but he never let that stop him. Mostly because he had no idea that he wasn’t smart and he thought his IQ of 37 was normal.
When Larry set off on his journey at 9:00 P.M on March 14th, he found his target and quickly snuck into the house leaving chocolate gold coins and little gold sprinkles and obviously knocking things over and dodging all the little traps that the children had made. When he knocked over some books they fell with a loud crash and then he heard the shuffling and footsteps of the family and made a run for it leaving tiny little footprints on the counter where the kids had left a mound of flour to track his footsteps.
After he made it back all the way to Ireland it was exactly 12:00 A.M on March 15th. He had just made it back in time before he could be spotted by curious children and their families.
As Larry lay back in his chair enjoying a nice hot cup of coffee he thinks about how excited he is to do it all again next year. Then he spills his coffee all over himself.
Santa made a new holiday for elves and he made a new elf. This one's name was Cupid. If you thought positive was bad he was even worse!There was no tolerance for that guy; he didn't even look like an elf! Santa sure created him. I hated this elf, he didn’t know how to make toys! Santa said it was okay and that wasn’t his plan for Cupid. Maybe Cupid could not make toys but he sure could shoot a bow and arrow. His skill sure brought a crowd and I sat there holding a sign that said I hate the crowd. What talent does this guy even have? That's when he shot me. After that I saw the most beautiful grumpy woman anyone had ever laid eyes on. Her and I lived grumpily ever after.
Written by: Anonymous
Trapped In A Snowglobe
By: Reagan Duchnowski
My family and I wake up and we don’t recognize our house. We go out into the backyard and see that not only is our grass gone, the ground is white! We look in front of us and see that we are enclosed by a circular wall of glass which only means one thing. We are trapped in a snowglobe! I run back inside and tell my parents what I have discovered. After that, we all start to panic and run back inside and try to go back to bed hoping that this was all just a dream.
A few hours later, we wake up and everything feels different again! This different has a sense of familiarity though. This is because we were finally back in our house. We got out of bed and asked each other if this was another dream or if we just all happened to have the same dream. We continue our day as normal and never touch back on the subject again as if it had never happened.
Tom The Turkey
By: Reagan Duchnowski
Tom the turkey was a very nice turkey who was nice whenever he could be. He smiled and waved at people he passed on his daily walks. Tom was a special turkey. He was one of a kind, one in a million, you could never stumble upon a turkey like Tom.
He volunteered at his local food bank and handed out food bags to local townspeople. He also rang bells outside of grocery stores for the Salvation Army. One of his stories he loves to tell goes something like this.
Tom was ringing a bell outside of Schnucks when a fellow turkey walked up. The turkey put a $100 dollar bill inside of his collection bucket! He was so shocked and thanked this generous donator tremendously! He was so baffled he called his boss back at the headquarters and his boss told him to give this donator his business card and tell them to call him.
Tom agrees and when the donator comes back out of the store, Tom hands the turkey the business card and when the donator looks up at Tom, Tom realizes it was his brother Ted and he had finally come home from the Army! Tom was so excited that he couldn’t help but wrap Ted in a hug and break down in tears. Tom was so excited that he could now spend his Veterans Day and weekend with Ted!
Ghost in The Basement.
By: Reagan Duchnowski
Samuel was walking down to his basement, he had heard a weird noise down there and decided to go check it out. When he got down there, the lights started flickering. He heard rustling behind some boxes even though he was home alone and he had no pets.
He goes upstairs and he calls his mom. He doesn’t know what to do in this situation, he is only six years old. Then he went back downstairs and the lights flickered one last time and then the power went out. Samuel ran back upstairs and grabbed a flashlight and called his mom again. Now, with his mother terrified she tells him not to worry and she is hurrying home and hangs up the phone.
20 minutes later Samuel’s mother gets home but as soon as she puts her key in the door everything goes back to normal. The power turns back on, no more noises in the basement and no more rustling behind the boxes. Samuel’s mother is in disbelief that her son would lie to her. She grounds Samuel for a week and puts dinner in the oven.
By Paisley McDuffee
It’s exactly thirty-one days away from Halloween, and my parents’ pumpkin patch is busier than ever. Every other year it has been, “Oh, let’s go to the pumpkin patch!”
“Yah, mom, that’ll be awesome!”
“What patch do you want to go to?”
“How about the Beaumont’s!”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, of course I am!”
That was the normal conversation about our pumpkin patch. The most we’ve ever gotten (not including this year) is around ten to twentyish people. This year we had more than two hundred. I was very confused.
“Mom!” I screamed one morning as I walked down the hall.
Normally a “Yes honey?” would answer but there was nothing today. I walked over to our kitchen windows to find out where my parents were.
“Ahhh!” I screamed for the second time this morning.
You might say, why Becca, why is looking out the window to an empty pumpkin patch so scary? I would ask myself that too, except for the fact that today, it was not empty anymore. Normally on the first of October, the day that our patch first opens each year it’s empty, yet it was packed with people. The Jefferson’s were even here! They owned the most popular pumpkin patch in the entire White County area. The biggest reason why I screamed was that I was standing there in Spongebob Squarepants pajamas, next to a ginormous window that outside of it was packed with people. The worst of it was that Justin Grant was out there! He’s my crush that I’ve had since fifth grade.
“Ju?” a tiny voice, my brothers’ voice squeaked.
“Yes, An,” I replied.
My brother is two years old and he hasn’t fully developed his speaking abilities. He calls everybody by their first two letters of their first name. I play along with it and call him by the first two letters of his name.
“I herd yelng, I wa worie bot you,” An answered.
“Oh, it was nothing,” I explained, “except for the fact that we are going to be rich soon,” I said the last part very quietly so An couldn’t hear me.
“I go bak to beed no,” An stated.
“Ok, An,” I said, not even thinking about our conversation.
“Sin me son!” An demanded.
“Sorry, An, I have to work, I can’t sing you a song right now,” I replied and walked to my room to get dressed into my uniform.
After I got dressed and walked outside to the pumpkin patch to ask my parents a very important question, “Mom, Dad. Will you please explain to me what is going on? I almost got embarrassed in front of Justin!”
“Honey, we can’t worry about that right now,” my dad replied.
“But-” I started but my mom interrupted me.
“Juliette, do you know what is going on?” my mom interrupted.
“No…?” I questioned.
“Is Andre okay?” she pondered.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” I replied in a tiny voice.
“Okay so, can you man the check out with Hanna?” my dad said, finally paying attention to our conversation.
“That doesn't matter right now,” I responded.
“Hein?” my parents replied together, they’d lived in France for their entire lives then moved here about ten years ago. Three years after I was born, they still speak in french every once and a while. And hein means huh.
“Why is it that almost everybody in Brookston is here!” I yelled.
“Honestly, we don’t know, we already told you,” my dad replied.
“Can I-” I started.
“Yes, my little adventurer,” my mom interrupted while smiling, “I’d love to see the wonderful attraction that is going to take us to hawaii,” she winked at me.
“Okay,” I replied and sprinted off.
I walked around till I reached the scarecrow at the pumpkin patch, everyone was huddled around it. What’s so special about a scarecrow?
“What’s going on?” I asked a random person.
“It’s just that-” the speaker stopped to turn around, it was Justin Grant! “You live and work here! Don’t you know?”
“Uh…” I stammered, I couldn’t think when I was around Justin.
“Earth to Juliette,” Justin said while waving his hand in front of my face.
“Oh, sorry, I’ve um gotta go,” I quickly said and ran off.
“Sorry folks, I’ve gotta go make sure the crows stay away!” our scarecrow said and wandered off yelling something about how much he hates crows.
“Hey you!” I called and raced off after him.
“I’ve got to scare the crows!” it yelled and sprinted off.
I chased it down until I yelled, “I own this patch so, you are under arrest!”
“Ahhh!” it yelled and got on its knees in front of me.
“It’s okay, I just want to know who you are,” I asked.
“It’s me Juli, Rebecca,” Rebecca replied.
“I’m so sorry Bec,” I added.
“It’s okay, I just wanted you to have some fun before Halloween! I know how much you love detective chases!” she laughed.
“Thanks Bec,” I replied.
“Happy Halloween!” a voice that came from our..actual..scarecrow replied.
“Ahhhhh!” Bec and I screamed at the same time.
Diary of Henry VIII
By Braylynn Corbett-Difiore
Dearest Diary, tis I, Henry VIII. If you would like to hear how I am, I am quite fine. Other than the fact that I am currently on my last straw with my wife Catherine of Aragon, we have been married for twenty-two years and she has only had the ability to bare me one living child, Mary. She has been pregnant six times, five of which were born stillborn. I always tell her to fast but I believe that she is not listening to me. I also heard word from the guards that she has been sneaking out to her personal garden every night and I fear that she may be eating the vegetables. But word from the kitchen staff says that there has been no missing food from the garden, or the pantry, or the stocks, which is very odd. Yet, unfortunately, I fear that I cannot do anything about her as the church refuses to let me divorce her. But I do not have a choice, I must get rid of her one way or another.
Dearest Diary, I am back and now with a second wife, Anne Boleyn. She is not much better than Catherine, we have been married two, almost three, years. She has, like Catherine, had stillborn children, one so far to be exact. Yet she has managed to produce a singular child, Elizabeth. I am still furious that she has not managed to produce a male heir, but perhaps I will give her more time. Thus far she has also managed to break all of England from the church. It is December 23 two days before Christmas and Anne is pregnant again and I would find it lovely if she could finally produce a male heir. If she cannot I shall have to have her beheaded.. I do have my eyes on another young lady named Jane Seymour and if I must leave I shall for her.
Dearest Diary, have you missed me? I am now with my third wife, Jane Seymour. We have been married for seventeen months and she is pregnant. She, unlike Anne and Catherine, has only had one miscarriage, and she may produce me a male heir. However, she is becoming very sick and may not even live long enough to have the child. News on Anne: she was beheaded, just as I suspected, and did produce a male heir, but he was unfortunately stillborn. Now I may have a redemption with this new child. In a turn of events, Jane is actually Anne’s second cousin and would like to make sure that Anne has a proper funeral. Yet I told her that if she wanted her cousin to have a proper funeral, she would have to pay for it herself. Which of course she could not as she had none of her own money, it is all mine. It is October 30 and the child is said to be born on November twenty-seventh, as we are less than a month away from the birth. The whole country is ecstatic as they are ready for new royalty. For once I actually love a woman after a year of being married, but again I do fear that death for my dear Jane is coming closer and closer.
Dearest Diary, fourth wife, fifth month and I truly hate her. She is from Germany, Dusseldorf to be exact, and I already know that I will soon be divorcing her. It is June 12 and I am already over being married to this woman, she is absolutely horrid looking, and just utterly rude, I should have known that I shouldn’t have picked my wife by just a portrait because Anne, yes she shares a name with a previous wife of mine, is so much more ugly looking than it showed in her portrait which was just honestly disappointing. She will have to leave soon enough because I just cannot deal with the disgrace anymore.
Dearest Diary, I am onto the fifth wife, Katheryn Howard, I am now on the sixteenth month of marriage. Although I am forty-nine and she is only nineteen. Yes, there is a thirty year difference between the two of us, she is not utterly beautiful yet she is not ugly like that of Anne, the second one that is. Actually speaking of Anne Katheryn is the first cousin of Anne Boleyn which makes her the cousin of dear late Jane as well. I specifically married this woman for the ability to have more children, thinking that since she was young she wouldn’t have any problem producing an heir, yet I just don’t feel like failing to produce a male heir again. I fear that she is heading toward the same fate as Ms. Anne Boleyn, beheading. Although I do adore the way that her name is spelled and she does not come from a bad family, although I can’t stay with her much longer I fear.
Dearest Diary, this may be the last time I write to you, I am getting very sick and I am on the brink of death. It is January twenty-sixth and I am now with my sixth, loving wife, Catherine Parr. I appreciate you listening and dealing with me through the years, through all six wives, Catherine of Aragon, Anne Boleyn, Jane Seymour, Anne of Cleves, Katheryn Howard, and Catherine Parr. I hope that death, remarriage, and everything after I die does them, that they are never forgotten, that each and everyone of them gets recognized anytime someone in the future sees a picture of them. I hope that they get books written for them, plays made, who knows, maybe even get a catchy musical written about them. Whatever happens to them I just hope that it does them well, they deserve at least that. King Henry VIII saying goodbye for the last time.