Guest page stories by the Grandkids

A Story About an Elevator that Got Hiccups. 
by Victor Anderson age 8
 
 
 

Once upon a time there was an Elevator in a big apartment house.  People liked to use the Elevator so much that one day it got the hiccups.  Unexpectedly, people who rode the Elevator started getting the hiccups, too. Moreover, their pets, like dogs, become jumpy after a ride on the Elevator and started making these funny noises, like hiccups. Everybody was so concerned about such an accident that they thought about how to fix it. 

 

-You cannot give some water to the Elevator!

-You cannot scare it either, since it’s not alive!

-You cannot bring it to a doctor, unless you’ll bring the whole house with it! (And how would you do that?)

 

Luckily, there was a little boy named Luke who got this brilliant idea. He called his friends over and gave a pan with a lid to each of them. Then, the kids came close to the Elevator and began playing some rhythms. The Elevator got very confused. It wanted to make the same rhythm with the kids, but the hiccups did not go away that fast.  However, after a few minutes of practicing, the Elevator was able to catch up with the group, and the hiccup finally calmed down.

 

Now, when we ride the Elevator, we can sometimes hear music or rhythms coming out from the radio, and we like it much more than the hiccups.

 

 The End.
 
What Happens in Real Life, Stays in Real Life

By Taylor Anderson  Age 15

“The room was dark, so much so that I couldn’t see anything more than a foot ahead of me. I kept thinking to myself, Why am I here? I could be at home curled up in front of my television with some warm chocolate milk.But I had to keep going, not for myself, for him.

            As I walked further into the room the darkness seemed to swallow me up, God I wish my cell phone hadn’t died on me. I walked further and further into the dark room, searching for something I wasn’t sure was there. I was just about to call out when I heard footsteps behind me. If I can’t see them than they can’t see me. I naively thought to myself. How wrong I was.

            I stood there for what seemed like an eternity, though it couldn’t have been more than five minutes. The footsteps seemed so close but there was no telling the distance. They were also walking circles around me; I didn’t figure it out until about three minutes into the whole charade. That’s when I started panicking. Finally the footsteps stopped, somewhere to my left. I quickly switched the blade I was holding onto for dear life into that hand, just in case.  I waited for another minute or two before mustering all my courage and saying into the darkness, 'Who’s there? I’m warning you, my mother knows I’m here and I have a knife!'

            That voice, I will never forget that voice, not in a million years. It came into my ear, my right ear, as clear as if the owner were standing right next to me. It was sweet and soft and pleasant, and cold. So cold that it would send a shiver down your spine and leave you paralyzed, helpless before its enticing tones. It whispered in a voice so soft that I had to strain my ears to hear it, and it said to me, 'Do you know who I am, Alexandra?' And indeed I did.

            What happened next is imprinted in my mind like a burn mark or a tattoo. It will be with me forever, replaying itself over and over again in my mind. It happened so quick that I could replay it thousands of times in my head during the span of one day.

I remember lashing out with my knife, only to have it strike what seemed like metal. I dropped my only weapon and held my hand in pain as vibrations ran through my body. Sensing my moment of weakness, my faceless opponent took the chance to hit me with inhuman strength and sent me careening against the wall, which turned out to be much closer than I thought it was. Struggling to get up, I supported myself with the wall and felt the warm trickle of blood run down the side of my head. I have to find a weapon of some kind  I thought to myself. Running my hand along the wall as I went, I ran in the direction I thought I had come. I hadn’t made it more than ten steps before I was thrown high into the air and landed with a sickening thud on the ground, I could hear the crunch of bones being broken.

Gasping in pain I tried to clear my head when suddenly, I felt a weight on top of me, then came the voice again, 'Now now Alexandra,' it said in its sickly sweet voice. 'It doesn’t have to end like this you know.'

'Yes, it does.' I replied through gritted teeth.

A low hiss emitted from the weight on top of me, digging the shattered bones of my body further into my flesh. 'So be it,' came the almost inaudible reply… "

 “Dorothy, what are you doing inside reading on a day like this?”

Putting my book aside I turned to glare at Lynn. Why did she have to do that?

“I’m inside reading on a beautiful day like this because there is nothing else to do,” came my quick retort. Why couldn’t she let me disappear into my books in peace?

“What are you talking about?” she said looking innocent and confused, “There’s lots to do! Go build a fort or play tag with your friends.”

“I’m not ten years old! God why do you seem to forget that all the freaking time!” I shouted at her dumb brunette self. She’s been my stepmother for about two months now and she thinks she owns me!

“I’m sorry. You’re right, I do forget that a lot. I’m trying to be a good mother, I really am. I guess we both just got a little getting used-to to do.”

There she goes with her guilt trip, the only tactic she seems to know besides getting my father to get me to listen to her. “I guess it will.” I said simply returning to my book. When she didn’t go away afterward I knew the conversation wasn’t over, to her at least. With an exaggerated sigh I turned back to face her with the most exasperated and irritated look I could manage. She just stared calmly back at me until I said, “Yes, what is it?”

“I think we should have a girl’s night out, just the two of us. We can go shopping, get a bite to eat, go catch a movie maybe. But I think we should spend some time to get to know each other.” She looked patronizingly at me.

“Yeah sure, whatever.” I replied loftily. I just wanted her to leave me to my book.

Apparently satisfied with my answer she finally left me alone, I was happy to be back to my book, but not so excited about the “Girl’s night out” I had agreed to.

Macdonald’s, Netflix, and a thrift store. That was her idea of a “Girl’s night out." I like Macdonald’s, and Netflix is okay, but really, a thrift store? Oh well, they can’t all be fun. And I was able to finish my book after I promised to go with her, so that’s an upside. And I had an interesting conversation with her. She wants me to stop reading so much. She thinks that reading is taking away from my real life experiences. My argument was that reading fills in the experiences that I’ll never have.

            Then we fought, or rather she fought, about how good reading actually is for you. She had the nerve to ask me if I had ever even had a boyfriend before! I told her I had (and it was true even if it was only for two days). Then she asked me if I knew what to do in case of a fire or a robbery or if someone was choking. How horrible can one conversation turn? Well, all in all, the dinner was loud, the shopping was bad, and the movie was awkward.

The next day was just like any other: school, homework, babysitting for people in an entirely different town that I have to get a ride to every time because my dad works late and we only have one car. So, I’ll skip past all the boring parts and get right into the exciting, if not absolutely freaky, parts.

Okay, so after getting dropped off by my friend, Anne, I came to the house I was to babysit at ten minutes late. With a brief apology and a hasty reprimanding the parents left me with their obnoxious five and seven year old boys, Matthew and Patrick.

I had just fixed them a fabulous dinner of chopped hot dogs and macaroni and cheese when Matthew, the five year old, starts choking on a piece of hot dog. Quickly remembering the conversation I had yesterday with Lynn I did a not-so graceful scuttle over to the boy and proceeded to execute a not- so-gentle Heimlich maneuver. It worked. The hot dog popped right out. I called the ambulance just in case, and comforted the crying boys. About five minutes later I heard the shattering of a window.

 Oh God, what now? I said to myself. I quickly grabbed the first thing  I thought I could use as a weapon, a lamp. Going to check on what was happening, I saw a small man climbing through the window of the children’s bedroom. Quickly and quietly I went back to the boys, put them in a closet and called the police. They didn’t believe me at first because I had just called for an ambulance and now I was calling for help. And finally, to end my wonderful, if not significant day, I start a fire. Yes, a fire. It started when the robber came in on me hanging up on the police, and I, in a rash and desperate attempt to defend myself, threw the lamp at him. Now obviously the lamp I threw was unplugged, but the lamp it just so happened to hit, was not. Once again, recalling yesterday’s conversation with Lynn, I quickly located the fire extinguisher and put out the flames. By the time I was done the robber had split. He probably didn’t know people were home. The police arrived about five minutes after the ambulance and thirty minutes before the parents came home. I don’t think I’ll tell Lynn about this.  You won’t, will you?

 
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