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Thursday, April 7, 2011

Stories Inspired by HFR

I am sad to announce the very last story we will publish on the blog from students at Basis in Scottsdale. This assignment was a 500-word story inspired by a picture from Issue #47 of HFR. This final story is a special "extra" story from 10th grader Sonya S. who wanted in on the action. This is a fabulous story, rich with description and brilliantly contained within 300 words, inspired by "Coppersmith's Cat" by Rena Effendi. I hope you all have enjoyed reading these wonderful stories. We at HFR have had so much fun reading through all of these stories and getting them all published on the blog. These students are very talented emerging writers, and we are proud to have had even a very small hand in assisting them in the early days of their writing ventures.

To all of the students at Basis who contributed their work to the HFR blog: Thank-you so much for letting us share your work. We think you are all very talented, and we hope you continue writing!

Here's Sonya S.' story:

The graying tomcat limped into the deserted village hesitantly, as if fighting against a current that was trying to push him back. His short, mismatched fur was matted with dirt, missing in patches around his numerous scars; his head swiveled around methodically as he began his search. Finally, the old cat paused his arduous journey--looming silently in front of him was a dilapidated, beaten little shack. One cloudy yellow eye blinked in recognition.

A low grumble escaped his throat and he trudged in, stepping cautiously around the rusty, broken tools. He vaguely remembered a time when they were new and shining and propped up against the once-sturdy wall, a time when the tinkering of metal and the laughter of children filled the house with liveliness.

He cocked his head to the side and pricked up a torn ear, as if hoping to hear a lingering echo of the living. But now, after nearly twenty long years of isolation, the only sound to be heard was the soft crying of the wind whistling through broken window panes. With a sigh, he settled down on his side in the middle of the previously undisturbed dirt floor. Quietly at first, he began to purr--low and broken, like the sound of a car engine that hasn’t been used in a long, long time.
His mind on memories of the past, memories of a warm fire and a pair of soft loving hands and kind eyes filled with happiness, the exhausted, abused cat closed his eyes.

1 comment:

Superstition Review said...

This really is a wonderful piece. It's so great to see work from young, emerging authors. Thanks for sharing!