Memoirs from kids
Read the 2 different memoirs below written by kids.
Missing Charlie
By Lily S. age: 12 Nebraska |
Game 5
By Anne D. age: 13 Pennsylvania |
Missing Charlie
By Lily S.
age: 12
Nebraska
I sat up in my bed and swung my legs out from under the covers. I slowly walked across the room and down the stairs. Once I was in the kitchen, I looked out the window of the backdoor. Outside were my cats, Tiger, Chito, Pesto, Georgie, Bea, and Bunny. I noticed that one of my cats, Charlie, wasn’t with them. I thought to myself, ‘Maybe Charlie is under the porch.' It was a reasonable explanation. It often got hot outside and Charlie had particularly long, dark fur and probably wanted some shade. With this thought, I didn’t worry too much about Charlie.
I noticed that I was the first one up that day. Both my sisters, Ellen and Molly, were still asleep, as was my mom. My dad had to get up early for work.
After I ate a quick breakfast, I went outside to play with my pets. My cats sat on the porch watching me while Pesto rubbed her side against my legs. Bea meowed loudly. I patted her on the head but she didn’t stop. I walked down the steps and looked under the porch. Charlie wasn’t there.
My next thought was that he was in the silver barn down the hill. That barn was where the cats were fed, so there might have been leftover food that Charlie was taking advantage of.
I ran across the sidewalk and driveway, and down the rocky hill. The cats followed me hopefully, thinking I was going to feed them. I slowed down when I got nearer to the barn. Charlie wasn’t there. In fact the only things down there were a pile of logs, a red tractor, many crawling bugs, and two large platters.
I began to worry. What if Charlie ran away or he accidentally went over to the neighbors and couldn’t find his way back? Sadly, I remembered how Charlie and Bea’s sisters, Mini Mae and Ruby, went missing one day. What if Charlie went missing forever too? I remembered how I would pick Charlie up and he would always play with my hair when he was close enough to touch my face.
I walked back up the hill and into the garage. I searched behind the wood pile, looked in all the buckets, checked every shelf, box, corner, and table, but Charlie was nowhere to be seen. Giving up hope, I went back inside and found my sisters watching 'Regis and Kelly' in the TV room. I told them how Charlie was missing and how I looked everywhere I thought a cat might be, but I couldn’t find him. Molly and Ellen said he would probably turn up later.
I thought, ‘Maybe they are right’ and decided to pass the time by reading. I got my book, INKSPELL, and tried reading it but found myself reading the same line over and over again and not taking in a word of it. I was too distracted to read.
That night after dinner I went outside again. Bea was curled up in a small ball on the porch. When I opened the door she immediately jumped up and ran over to me, expecting the leftovers from the night’s dinner. I showed her my empty hands and squatted down to pick her up. She did not squirm around in my arms like she usually did. She just sat there with her head resting sleepily on my arm.
Dusk had arrived. Crickets chirped and a horse neighed. I walked down the steps and around the house, into the front yard. Maybe Charlie was in the tall grass that lined the sides of both the front and back yards or in the ditch at the edge of the yard.
Bea began to squirm so I put her down and scanned the tall grass for signs of movement. When there was none I walked up the driveway. Bea followed me silently. When we reached the end, I picked her up again because I didn’t want her to wander across the street. She squirmed a little but then stayed still. I looked in the ditch and did not see anything. Then I looked to both sides on the road to see if Charlie was there. He wasn’t.
Again, I looked everywhere I could think of for Charlie and still didn’t find him. It soon became too dark for me to see anything. The only light was the one that stood high above on the pole by the garage. I glumly went inside. My mom was doing laundry in the room next to the back door.
“Mom, Charlie is missing and I can’t find him!”
“Did you look for him everywhere?” asked my mom.
“Yeah!” I said, as I looked out the back door’s window. I saw a figure emerge from the darkness of the garage. Without telling my mom what I was doing, I ran back outside and to the garage.
Charlie’s fur was oily and stiff. He barely moved. I picked him up. He didn’t try to play with my hair even if I put it right in front of his face. I tickled his stomach but he didn’t try to play with my fingers either. I put him down and ran back inside to tell my mom.
“Mom! I found Charlie but there is something wrong with him.” Without giving her time to respond, I went back outside. She followed me to where Charlie sat. He was in the same position that he was in when I put him down.
My mom told me to get him some food and I quickly obeyed. I set a handful of cat food in front of him. He smelled it but made no move to eat it. I asked Mom if I could take him inside and she agreed that under the circumstances Charlie should be let in the house.
Once we were in the kitchen, I opened some canned chicken and gave it to him. This he ate vigorously. I got a rag and tried getting the oily substance out of his fur but it didn’t do anything. After a little bit, Mom told me to take him back outside with the can of chicken. Instead of putting him on the back porch, I put him on the front porch where the other cats rarely went. This way they wouldn’t eat Charlie’s food. I sat with him for a while but it became too late and I had to go to bed.
We were leaving for Chicago in the morning. I didn’t want to leave Charlie. When I checked on him in the morning he was still asleep. Soon we were piled in our S.U.V and were ready to go to Chicago. As we reached the end of the driveway, I saw Charlie sitting on the edge of the porch steps. Seeing him there just made me feel more guilty for leaving him. I watched him and he watched us until we were out of view.
I lost Charlie one day. And then I found him. Curiosity almost killed the cat that day.
By Lily S.
age: 12
Nebraska
I sat up in my bed and swung my legs out from under the covers. I slowly walked across the room and down the stairs. Once I was in the kitchen, I looked out the window of the backdoor. Outside were my cats, Tiger, Chito, Pesto, Georgie, Bea, and Bunny. I noticed that one of my cats, Charlie, wasn’t with them. I thought to myself, ‘Maybe Charlie is under the porch.' It was a reasonable explanation. It often got hot outside and Charlie had particularly long, dark fur and probably wanted some shade. With this thought, I didn’t worry too much about Charlie.
I noticed that I was the first one up that day. Both my sisters, Ellen and Molly, were still asleep, as was my mom. My dad had to get up early for work.
After I ate a quick breakfast, I went outside to play with my pets. My cats sat on the porch watching me while Pesto rubbed her side against my legs. Bea meowed loudly. I patted her on the head but she didn’t stop. I walked down the steps and looked under the porch. Charlie wasn’t there.
My next thought was that he was in the silver barn down the hill. That barn was where the cats were fed, so there might have been leftover food that Charlie was taking advantage of.
I ran across the sidewalk and driveway, and down the rocky hill. The cats followed me hopefully, thinking I was going to feed them. I slowed down when I got nearer to the barn. Charlie wasn’t there. In fact the only things down there were a pile of logs, a red tractor, many crawling bugs, and two large platters.
I began to worry. What if Charlie ran away or he accidentally went over to the neighbors and couldn’t find his way back? Sadly, I remembered how Charlie and Bea’s sisters, Mini Mae and Ruby, went missing one day. What if Charlie went missing forever too? I remembered how I would pick Charlie up and he would always play with my hair when he was close enough to touch my face.
I walked back up the hill and into the garage. I searched behind the wood pile, looked in all the buckets, checked every shelf, box, corner, and table, but Charlie was nowhere to be seen. Giving up hope, I went back inside and found my sisters watching 'Regis and Kelly' in the TV room. I told them how Charlie was missing and how I looked everywhere I thought a cat might be, but I couldn’t find him. Molly and Ellen said he would probably turn up later.
I thought, ‘Maybe they are right’ and decided to pass the time by reading. I got my book, INKSPELL, and tried reading it but found myself reading the same line over and over again and not taking in a word of it. I was too distracted to read.
That night after dinner I went outside again. Bea was curled up in a small ball on the porch. When I opened the door she immediately jumped up and ran over to me, expecting the leftovers from the night’s dinner. I showed her my empty hands and squatted down to pick her up. She did not squirm around in my arms like she usually did. She just sat there with her head resting sleepily on my arm.
Dusk had arrived. Crickets chirped and a horse neighed. I walked down the steps and around the house, into the front yard. Maybe Charlie was in the tall grass that lined the sides of both the front and back yards or in the ditch at the edge of the yard.
Bea began to squirm so I put her down and scanned the tall grass for signs of movement. When there was none I walked up the driveway. Bea followed me silently. When we reached the end, I picked her up again because I didn’t want her to wander across the street. She squirmed a little but then stayed still. I looked in the ditch and did not see anything. Then I looked to both sides on the road to see if Charlie was there. He wasn’t.
Again, I looked everywhere I could think of for Charlie and still didn’t find him. It soon became too dark for me to see anything. The only light was the one that stood high above on the pole by the garage. I glumly went inside. My mom was doing laundry in the room next to the back door.
“Mom, Charlie is missing and I can’t find him!”
“Did you look for him everywhere?” asked my mom.
“Yeah!” I said, as I looked out the back door’s window. I saw a figure emerge from the darkness of the garage. Without telling my mom what I was doing, I ran back outside and to the garage.
Charlie’s fur was oily and stiff. He barely moved. I picked him up. He didn’t try to play with my hair even if I put it right in front of his face. I tickled his stomach but he didn’t try to play with my fingers either. I put him down and ran back inside to tell my mom.
“Mom! I found Charlie but there is something wrong with him.” Without giving her time to respond, I went back outside. She followed me to where Charlie sat. He was in the same position that he was in when I put him down.
My mom told me to get him some food and I quickly obeyed. I set a handful of cat food in front of him. He smelled it but made no move to eat it. I asked Mom if I could take him inside and she agreed that under the circumstances Charlie should be let in the house.
Once we were in the kitchen, I opened some canned chicken and gave it to him. This he ate vigorously. I got a rag and tried getting the oily substance out of his fur but it didn’t do anything. After a little bit, Mom told me to take him back outside with the can of chicken. Instead of putting him on the back porch, I put him on the front porch where the other cats rarely went. This way they wouldn’t eat Charlie’s food. I sat with him for a while but it became too late and I had to go to bed.
We were leaving for Chicago in the morning. I didn’t want to leave Charlie. When I checked on him in the morning he was still asleep. Soon we were piled in our S.U.V and were ready to go to Chicago. As we reached the end of the driveway, I saw Charlie sitting on the edge of the porch steps. Seeing him there just made me feel more guilty for leaving him. I watched him and he watched us until we were out of view.
I lost Charlie one day. And then I found him. Curiosity almost killed the cat that day.
Game 5
By Anne D.
age: 13
Pennsylvania
The Mellon Arena crowd bristled with nervousness and excitement; both emotions reached their peaks. The familiar sound of beer and food still fell on me after three hours, as did the idle chatter that occurred during the intermissions. However, both were lost on me, as I was busy contemplating the circumstances of the game.
This game meant so much to the seventeen thousand inside and the thousand people outside. The game meant the end of the series against the Rangers. This game meant seeing what could have been the finish of Jaromir Jagr’s National Hockey League career. This game energized the crowd, but still kept them on a teetering edge. This game, after all, meant everything.
My family and I awaited the beginning of overtime anxiously. My father, who had been a Penguins fan since before they had won the Stanley Cup in the ‘90s, looked up at the scoreboard in trepidation. The score was tied and the game was beginning overtime.
When the Pittsburgh Penguins emerged onto the ice the crowd roared joyously. I, too, did this, though it was accompanied by a plethora of nervous butterflies.
We had been on a power play at the end of the third period and it had continued onto overtime. While the Penguins did not disappoint, firing shot after shot at the shaken goalie, none managed to fall into the net.
My hope started to twitch. I had been through other experiences with the Penguins that were close-calls, so I did not quickly lose my faith. It still nerved me, however.
The Penguins dominated the first five minutes of five-on-five expertly. It seemed as if it would be merely a matter of time, though I was sure it would be one that would stretch tauntingly.
Another minute passed to prove that point, and they went down the ice again, heading towards the net.
My breath hitched.
Time seemed to slow down as the superstars methodically passed the puck to each other, the Rangers watching with acute alertness. Every person, I was sure, was nervous about the experience; I was nervous about the experience, definitely.
The puck was passed one last time and in a quick flurry of movement the puck flew into the net, the shot so desperate, so miraculous, that no second after the puck crossed the blue line was silent.
The crowd exploded in fervor; my heart stopped as a red light indicated their success. The game-- and series-winner--had been scored by Marian Hossa, who was triumphantly celebrating alongside his teammates. The Rangers, as well as their fans, eyed us with anger and envy; they could hardly stomach their crippling loss.
However, that did not matter. The only thing I could focus on was my ecstasy. The crowd fed off of every person’s energy, resulting in deafening cheers of joy.
The Rangers were gone and we had passed another leg of the playoffs. That fact alone caused outrageous joy as I hugged my family to rejoice.
The victory should have been enough, but I could hardly leave. My family, as well as a vast number of fans, stayed as if expecting another game, idly watching the empty ice for a few minutes.
It was with reluctance that we left, but our energy only traveled from the arena to the city itself. Various cars honked melodically, Penguin towels on their windows and people cheered to each other on the street like good friends, worn Penguins jerseys on their backs.
I could scarcely believe it on the ride home; my eyes were alight with euphoria. Everyone could scarcely believe it.
I knew, after hours of being star-struck by victory, that this game was vital. This game was direly important in the Penguins’s quest to win the Stanley Cup. I also knew that because of this game the Penguins were not only prepared to play the Philadelphia Flyers, but bloodthirsty, too.
With the Flyers soon approaching, I knew I was.
By Anne D.
age: 13
Pennsylvania
The Mellon Arena crowd bristled with nervousness and excitement; both emotions reached their peaks. The familiar sound of beer and food still fell on me after three hours, as did the idle chatter that occurred during the intermissions. However, both were lost on me, as I was busy contemplating the circumstances of the game.
This game meant so much to the seventeen thousand inside and the thousand people outside. The game meant the end of the series against the Rangers. This game meant seeing what could have been the finish of Jaromir Jagr’s National Hockey League career. This game energized the crowd, but still kept them on a teetering edge. This game, after all, meant everything.
My family and I awaited the beginning of overtime anxiously. My father, who had been a Penguins fan since before they had won the Stanley Cup in the ‘90s, looked up at the scoreboard in trepidation. The score was tied and the game was beginning overtime.
When the Pittsburgh Penguins emerged onto the ice the crowd roared joyously. I, too, did this, though it was accompanied by a plethora of nervous butterflies.
We had been on a power play at the end of the third period and it had continued onto overtime. While the Penguins did not disappoint, firing shot after shot at the shaken goalie, none managed to fall into the net.
My hope started to twitch. I had been through other experiences with the Penguins that were close-calls, so I did not quickly lose my faith. It still nerved me, however.
The Penguins dominated the first five minutes of five-on-five expertly. It seemed as if it would be merely a matter of time, though I was sure it would be one that would stretch tauntingly.
Another minute passed to prove that point, and they went down the ice again, heading towards the net.
My breath hitched.
Time seemed to slow down as the superstars methodically passed the puck to each other, the Rangers watching with acute alertness. Every person, I was sure, was nervous about the experience; I was nervous about the experience, definitely.
The puck was passed one last time and in a quick flurry of movement the puck flew into the net, the shot so desperate, so miraculous, that no second after the puck crossed the blue line was silent.
The crowd exploded in fervor; my heart stopped as a red light indicated their success. The game-- and series-winner--had been scored by Marian Hossa, who was triumphantly celebrating alongside his teammates. The Rangers, as well as their fans, eyed us with anger and envy; they could hardly stomach their crippling loss.
However, that did not matter. The only thing I could focus on was my ecstasy. The crowd fed off of every person’s energy, resulting in deafening cheers of joy.
The Rangers were gone and we had passed another leg of the playoffs. That fact alone caused outrageous joy as I hugged my family to rejoice.
The victory should have been enough, but I could hardly leave. My family, as well as a vast number of fans, stayed as if expecting another game, idly watching the empty ice for a few minutes.
It was with reluctance that we left, but our energy only traveled from the arena to the city itself. Various cars honked melodically, Penguin towels on their windows and people cheered to each other on the street like good friends, worn Penguins jerseys on their backs.
I could scarcely believe it on the ride home; my eyes were alight with euphoria. Everyone could scarcely believe it.
I knew, after hours of being star-struck by victory, that this game was vital. This game was direly important in the Penguins’s quest to win the Stanley Cup. I also knew that because of this game the Penguins were not only prepared to play the Philadelphia Flyers, but bloodthirsty, too.
With the Flyers soon approaching, I knew I was.