Holly's gift

Ever since she was a toddler, Holly has had an incredible imagination. I don't know where she got it. I don't have a creative bone in my body, and Robert is definitely more the logical, engineering (i.e., anal retentive) type too. Holly also has always enjoyed being read to. She's very auditory, remembering everything she hears--just like Robert, and believe me, this is NOT to my advantage with either one of them.

Combine her imagination, her exposure to books, and her strong language arts skills in general, and she's an amazing fiction writer. She does some fiction writing for school, mostly because it's enjoyable. Like most writers, she runs hot and cold, usually in periods that last several weeks. She asked if she could substitute her own writing this week instead of her writing curriculum, and of course I said yes. I always do. She rarely does any story planning on paper, just starts writing and can't seem to stop. She also rarely goes back to make any type of changes or editing, it just ends up on paper exactly as she plans. She started this on Monday, and completed this first chapter yesterday.

I have her permission to post her first chapter here, and I'm jumping at the opportunity. Comments are welcomed. :)

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Chapter One:

My stomach growled in hunger. I put a hand over it and felt it rumble, like the Earth rumbling in a thunder storm. Across our yard I could hear the unicorns and dragons eating happily. I blinked up at the sun. 10 past one. Why hadn't Mom made lunch yet? My stomach rumbled again, this time louder.

"Owl!" Someone screamed my name from behind me. I turned to look, scaring the fairies who sat in my light brown hair away. It was my big sister, Hawk. "Owl, why are you sitting down there?" Hawk barked.

I looked around. Pine trees and tall dark green grass sprang up beside and all around me. "Is it BAD I'm sitting here?" I asked her, raising an eyebrow.

Hawk walked toward me a step or two, her black dress flowing in the sight breeze. "Well, you could get dirty," she said, stammering a tad.

I gave her a questioning look and cocked my head. "Hawk. Oh Hawk. I don't care if I get dirty. Besides, my dress is brown. The dirt would blend right in," I pointed out.

Hawk paused considering this. But then she said, "Mom wants you in the house, so get up."

I stood slowly, and brushed off my back side with my pale elfin hand. I gathered the pine needles I had collected for a pine needle basket. I put them in an old straw basket Hawk had made three years ago when she was 13, my age. I slowly waltzed toward her, swinging the basket around. Hawk's brown elfin cat like eyes looked toward a tree where a robin sat chirping. As I walked beside her back to our 2 story stone house, I heard Hawk's stomach moan. "You hungry too?" I asked, looking down at my knees and watched how they made ripples go through my dress. Hawk nodded, tucking a piece of her dark brown hair behind her curled brown hair. "Why doesn't mom do anything anymore?" I asked quietly so Mom wouldn't hear.

Hawk looked at me, "I think because of Dad." She was so quiet my ears had to strain to hear. Our Dad left for a battle, between our clan and the neighboring one, almost 1 year ago. We don't hear from him much, only 1 time every other month, but when we do hear from him he always seems happy and healthy.

I frowned and stopped walking. Hawk stopped beside me. "But why? Dad always seems fine. And he's a good warrior--" My voice stammered so I stopped talking.

Hawk shrugged. "She's probably still worried 'bout him. Owl, even the good fighters die," she said, then walked quickly to the house, where my twin brother Thunder sat at a wooden table, playing patty-cake with our 2 year-old sister, Leaf. Mom sat across from him, writing something. Her turquoise dress was ruffled and her blond hair was falling out of the bun she had thrown it into. I put the basket of pine needles down next to her.

"What are you writing?" I asked, plopping down into a pine chair beside her. Mom looked up at me.

Despite the way the rest of her looked, her light blue eyes were bright and happy looking. "A letter to your father," she answered simply. Her head went back to the thin yellow piece of paper and her long slender fingers moved the quail feather pen across it.

"Oh...well Hawk said you needed me." I rested my chin on my palm.

Mom sighed. She put down the pen beside the letter and the small clay bowl of ink, which was blue berry juice. "Yes, I do. Could you and Thunder go pick berries? I want to make a pie," she said. I grinned. We haven't had one of those since Dad left.

Thunder jumped up almost knocking his chair over. "What kind?" he asked.

"Any kind. But I would like strawberries," was Mom's answer. Leaf laughed and clapped her tiny hands. Thunder ran out of the door, but I stayed where I was.

"Why are you so happy today, mom? I mean--" I started, but Mom cut me off.

"Owl, I know. I've been acting like it's the end of the world since Dad's gone. But I've decided to quit worrying and go on with life. The war will soon be over and everything will go back to the way it used to," said said.

"C'mon Owl!!!" Thunder yelled. I grabbed two baskets to carry the berries in and ran out the door.

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