CLARA
MUSICIAN, WRITER, AND STUDENT. Clara is one-and-a-half years old on Halloween night in Auburn, Maine. She looks at her mom, who is holding a camera and backing away to capture the umbrella of the tree and the plentiful apples on the ground.
Ten years later Clara plays the piano, writes poems and short stories, and draws pictures of the world around her. She likes math and science and learning new things everyday.
Presented from her exploration of varying interests are two short stories, STRAY DOG and A CHRISTMAS PRESENT, written in collaboration with Mia, a watercolor drawing, and a poem, THIS IS MY WORLD ...
Clara is contributor at MONDAY MUSINGS and can be reached here with any questions or comments you may have for her.
Ten years later Clara plays the piano, writes poems and short stories, and draws pictures of the world around her. She likes math and science and learning new things everyday.
Presented from her exploration of varying interests are two short stories, STRAY DOG and A CHRISTMAS PRESENT, written in collaboration with Mia, a watercolor drawing, and a poem, THIS IS MY WORLD ...
Clara is contributor at MONDAY MUSINGS and can be reached here with any questions or comments you may have for her.
THIS IS MY WORLD ...
Clara's watercolor at age 7.
Piano is the sky.
I reach for the stars.
I reach for my dreams.
It is there,
And I have it,
Piano is the sky.
Ballet is the sea.
It can flow very calmly,
Or act very stormy.
Ballet is the sea.
Science is the tree.
It is beautiful and dashing,
And will die without nurture.
Science is the tree.
My family is the land.
They are always there for me,
For me to love
And be a part of.
My family is the land.
This is the world,
And this is my life.
-CLARA, 2008
I reach for the stars.
I reach for my dreams.
It is there,
And I have it,
Piano is the sky.
Ballet is the sea.
It can flow very calmly,
Or act very stormy.
Ballet is the sea.
Science is the tree.
It is beautiful and dashing,
And will die without nurture.
Science is the tree.
My family is the land.
They are always there for me,
For me to love
And be a part of.
My family is the land.
This is the world,
And this is my life.
-CLARA, 2008
STRAY DOG
A short story by CLARA and MIA T. STARR
February 15, 2005
Sections in color written by Clara at age six.
Hello. I'm Kendra. One day when I was at the park I saw a stray dog! Then, I said to myself, OH! I'LL NAME YOU BISCUIT. I said to my mother, "Can we please take him home?" She said, "Of course you can take that stray dog home! Let's go get some dog food for it!"
I cradled Biscuit in my arms as Mom and I walked down the hill to our car. Biscuit whimpered.
"Mom, I think Biscuit is crying," I said.
I said, "I think he's hungry." So, after we went to the store we fed Biscuit right away. I cunned, "It looks like you like us. Looks like you hadn't got any food for a while." Then I said to my mom, "I can let her sleep in bed with me." My mother said, "She might poop in your bed, so put her on top of a plastic bag and under a blanket."
I said, "Okay."
Biscuit tossed and turned on the white plastic bag. I caressed her back. Biscuit dropped her head, then scratched and chewed through the plastic.
"You don't like the bag," I said, "Do you, Biscuit?"
She nodded. So instead of the plastic bag under her, I put a blanket there. The next morning, I took her outside to play. She pooped. I took a rusty shovel and began picking it up. I said to my mom, "Mama, where do I put the dog poop? She said, put it in a plastic bag outside in the front yard." When I did I saw a woman pointing at the dog to a man and whispering. I ran back inside of the house, just in case they wanted to steal or buy it for a price that would make me rich and make me buy into it. You know, I really love that puppy more than any other one.
The doorbell rang while I was reading Hansel and Gretel to Biscuit in our bedroom. Biscuit cowered into the blanket. I kissed Biscuit's paws, trying to ease my own fear about the person at the door. What if it's her?
"Biscuit, I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you," I said.
I was reading in the kitchen with Biscuit. I took a deep breath and said, "I'll get it!" It was the woman. I wanted to hear what she said just in case she's nice. She said, "Hello. My name is Allia. Could I buy that dog for two thou-" So I slammed the door shut except for a crack. She said to her husband, "Randie, were going to steal that dog!"
Allia slid her hand in the crack.
"NO!" I said.
Biscuit barked, then jumped and bit Allia's fingers.
"Oooooooooowwwwwww!" Allia said. "My finger! My finger! Randie! My finger!"
I said "I'm so sorry!" I accsedently blurted out. "She understands language!" She said, "Well, you know, I'm so on you!" Then, she left. Biscuit ran and got a piece of paper and wrote: I'm scared. Me and my mom said, "We are too." at the same time.
We heard tapping noises against the kitchen window. The back door creaked open. I turned to the window and saw a shadow rise from the ledge. Two black eyes peered in and stared back at me.
"Mom, we're being attacked!" I said and grabbed a rolling pin from a kitchen drawer.
Then, the woman came in as the dog ran into the bathroom. I said to Allia, "Why do you want the dog?" She said, "Your mom had a dog in collage and she was afraid that I would do something to it because we were sisters and when I was young, I guess ... I guess ... I wasn't as neat as your mother and she was afraid I would do something to the dog and Biscuit reminded me of it and I wanted to compete." As she said it, she grew more and more tears. Then my mother bursted into tears.
I set my rolling pin on the table and put my arms around my mother and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Biscuit nuzzled her head against Mom's leg. Mom cried harder.
"It's okay, Mom," I said and reached for Allia's hand. "We're going to be okay."
My mom and her sister hugged each other. Then I said, "Why don't we play with Biscuit all together!" My mom said, "I guess I don't like ruining my stuff and you thought I wouldn't let you play with the dog, but I would." "Yes," Allia said softly.
The End.
A short story by CLARA and MIA T. STARR
February 15, 2005
Sections in color written by Clara at age six.
Hello. I'm Kendra. One day when I was at the park I saw a stray dog! Then, I said to myself, OH! I'LL NAME YOU BISCUIT. I said to my mother, "Can we please take him home?" She said, "Of course you can take that stray dog home! Let's go get some dog food for it!"
I cradled Biscuit in my arms as Mom and I walked down the hill to our car. Biscuit whimpered.
"Mom, I think Biscuit is crying," I said.
I said, "I think he's hungry." So, after we went to the store we fed Biscuit right away. I cunned, "It looks like you like us. Looks like you hadn't got any food for a while." Then I said to my mom, "I can let her sleep in bed with me." My mother said, "She might poop in your bed, so put her on top of a plastic bag and under a blanket."
I said, "Okay."
Biscuit tossed and turned on the white plastic bag. I caressed her back. Biscuit dropped her head, then scratched and chewed through the plastic.
"You don't like the bag," I said, "Do you, Biscuit?"
She nodded. So instead of the plastic bag under her, I put a blanket there. The next morning, I took her outside to play. She pooped. I took a rusty shovel and began picking it up. I said to my mom, "Mama, where do I put the dog poop? She said, put it in a plastic bag outside in the front yard." When I did I saw a woman pointing at the dog to a man and whispering. I ran back inside of the house, just in case they wanted to steal or buy it for a price that would make me rich and make me buy into it. You know, I really love that puppy more than any other one.
The doorbell rang while I was reading Hansel and Gretel to Biscuit in our bedroom. Biscuit cowered into the blanket. I kissed Biscuit's paws, trying to ease my own fear about the person at the door. What if it's her?
"Biscuit, I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you," I said.
I was reading in the kitchen with Biscuit. I took a deep breath and said, "I'll get it!" It was the woman. I wanted to hear what she said just in case she's nice. She said, "Hello. My name is Allia. Could I buy that dog for two thou-" So I slammed the door shut except for a crack. She said to her husband, "Randie, were going to steal that dog!"
Allia slid her hand in the crack.
"NO!" I said.
Biscuit barked, then jumped and bit Allia's fingers.
"Oooooooooowwwwwww!" Allia said. "My finger! My finger! Randie! My finger!"
I said "I'm so sorry!" I accsedently blurted out. "She understands language!" She said, "Well, you know, I'm so on you!" Then, she left. Biscuit ran and got a piece of paper and wrote: I'm scared. Me and my mom said, "We are too." at the same time.
We heard tapping noises against the kitchen window. The back door creaked open. I turned to the window and saw a shadow rise from the ledge. Two black eyes peered in and stared back at me.
"Mom, we're being attacked!" I said and grabbed a rolling pin from a kitchen drawer.
Then, the woman came in as the dog ran into the bathroom. I said to Allia, "Why do you want the dog?" She said, "Your mom had a dog in collage and she was afraid that I would do something to it because we were sisters and when I was young, I guess ... I guess ... I wasn't as neat as your mother and she was afraid I would do something to the dog and Biscuit reminded me of it and I wanted to compete." As she said it, she grew more and more tears. Then my mother bursted into tears.
I set my rolling pin on the table and put my arms around my mother and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Biscuit nuzzled her head against Mom's leg. Mom cried harder.
"It's okay, Mom," I said and reached for Allia's hand. "We're going to be okay."
My mom and her sister hugged each other. Then I said, "Why don't we play with Biscuit all together!" My mom said, "I guess I don't like ruining my stuff and you thought I wouldn't let you play with the dog, but I would." "Yes," Allia said softly.
The End.
MY CHRISTMAS PRESENT
A short story by CLARA and MIA T. STARR
January 4, 2005
Sections in color written by Clara at age six.
Hello. My name is Laura. Here is a little story about me. One day, my mother said, "lets go visit your Aunt Ronda and Uncle Louey on the ranch." "Yay," I said. I was so exsited. My mother, my father, and me, got into our blue car. When we got there, a woman with a red, short sleave shirt, a thick brown vest, and a red pleated skirt standing next to a man with a white shirt and jeans said, "Hello Alex, Rondie, and Laura! I'm so happy to see you! Let me show you around the barn." When she did, I saw a beautiful horse. I wanted it realy badly. Its name was Loraine. I dare not tell anyone that I wanted it because if I got the horse, my parents might say, "Now, how are we going to get you lessons to ride?" After that, we drank cocktails.
That same evening I dreamt about Loraine. I was standing on a bridge in Central Park, New York City. I looked left and saw a yellow bird with an orange beak.
"Hello, Laura. Do you know who I am?" the bird said.
"No," Laura said. "I'm sorry."
"I am Loraine," the bird said.
"Loraine?" Laura said and rubbed her eyes to take a closer look. "But you're not a horse."
The bird said, "I'm a magical horse!" Then, she tok form of a horse and I was SO surprised that I woke up. We either drive by car or walk on foot to the ranch evry day exept for today because my parents said that I could tell you this story. Anyways, just when I woke up, my father said, "time to walk to the ranch!" I shouted, "Horray!" When we got there, everyone drank cocktails and talked because my Aunt Ronda and my mother are VERY close sisters, Aunt Ronda said to me, "would you like some fresh cider?" I said, "sure. Then, I'm going to see Loraine. She's magic, you know. My parents said, "Oh, of course not. You can still go, though." So after I finished my cider, I ran to her stable. She wasn't there! But the bird in my dream was. She took shape of a horse. I couldn't speak. She said, "don't tell anyone. Only you, me, your Aunt and Uncle Know about this." I slowly nodded. Soon the adults came.
Loraine dissolved into a bird and flew away without saying goodbye. My heart sank.
"Is something wrong, Laura?" Mom said, brushing my hair away from my eyes. "You seem sad."
"I miss Loraine." My lips trembled. "She's not here."
Zoey (the owner of the stable) took my right hand in hers and said, "Loraine is sick."
I believed her. Zoey said, "I could take you to see her, if you want." I said "Oh, thank you!" So I went. Okay, they new I wanted her. So, when we left the ranch, my mom looked at schedguels for horse riding! Then she said, "You will get your horse tomorrow. I couldn't wait!
I tossed and stirred in my sleep, waking up in the middle of the night in my bed with nervous butterflies in my stomach. Because I wanted Loraine so much, I began to think that she was only a dream. What if there was no magic horse or bird? The butterflies flew up like four wild parrots into my chest. My rib cage started to contract as if caving in on me. I tried to take a long deep breath to calm myself down. I remembered what my parents said to me, "It's okay to want Loraine and to hope for her, but even without Loraine, there is magic and beauty in the world." I raised two right fingers to my heart, circling the spot where my parents liked to tap me, showing me a place where there was always magic and beauty, love, and hope. It no longer mattered if Loraine was a dream or not, if I got her or not, if she was a bird or a horse, or both. I kissed my brown-eyed doll, Belle, on her forehead. I held her to my chest and said, "Goodnight."
A short story by CLARA and MIA T. STARR
January 4, 2005
Sections in color written by Clara at age six.
Hello. My name is Laura. Here is a little story about me. One day, my mother said, "lets go visit your Aunt Ronda and Uncle Louey on the ranch." "Yay," I said. I was so exsited. My mother, my father, and me, got into our blue car. When we got there, a woman with a red, short sleave shirt, a thick brown vest, and a red pleated skirt standing next to a man with a white shirt and jeans said, "Hello Alex, Rondie, and Laura! I'm so happy to see you! Let me show you around the barn." When she did, I saw a beautiful horse. I wanted it realy badly. Its name was Loraine. I dare not tell anyone that I wanted it because if I got the horse, my parents might say, "Now, how are we going to get you lessons to ride?" After that, we drank cocktails.
That same evening I dreamt about Loraine. I was standing on a bridge in Central Park, New York City. I looked left and saw a yellow bird with an orange beak.
"Hello, Laura. Do you know who I am?" the bird said.
"No," Laura said. "I'm sorry."
"I am Loraine," the bird said.
"Loraine?" Laura said and rubbed her eyes to take a closer look. "But you're not a horse."
The bird said, "I'm a magical horse!" Then, she tok form of a horse and I was SO surprised that I woke up. We either drive by car or walk on foot to the ranch evry day exept for today because my parents said that I could tell you this story. Anyways, just when I woke up, my father said, "time to walk to the ranch!" I shouted, "Horray!" When we got there, everyone drank cocktails and talked because my Aunt Ronda and my mother are VERY close sisters, Aunt Ronda said to me, "would you like some fresh cider?" I said, "sure. Then, I'm going to see Loraine. She's magic, you know. My parents said, "Oh, of course not. You can still go, though." So after I finished my cider, I ran to her stable. She wasn't there! But the bird in my dream was. She took shape of a horse. I couldn't speak. She said, "don't tell anyone. Only you, me, your Aunt and Uncle Know about this." I slowly nodded. Soon the adults came.
Loraine dissolved into a bird and flew away without saying goodbye. My heart sank.
"Is something wrong, Laura?" Mom said, brushing my hair away from my eyes. "You seem sad."
"I miss Loraine." My lips trembled. "She's not here."
Zoey (the owner of the stable) took my right hand in hers and said, "Loraine is sick."
I believed her. Zoey said, "I could take you to see her, if you want." I said "Oh, thank you!" So I went. Okay, they new I wanted her. So, when we left the ranch, my mom looked at schedguels for horse riding! Then she said, "You will get your horse tomorrow. I couldn't wait!
I tossed and stirred in my sleep, waking up in the middle of the night in my bed with nervous butterflies in my stomach. Because I wanted Loraine so much, I began to think that she was only a dream. What if there was no magic horse or bird? The butterflies flew up like four wild parrots into my chest. My rib cage started to contract as if caving in on me. I tried to take a long deep breath to calm myself down. I remembered what my parents said to me, "It's okay to want Loraine and to hope for her, but even without Loraine, there is magic and beauty in the world." I raised two right fingers to my heart, circling the spot where my parents liked to tap me, showing me a place where there was always magic and beauty, love, and hope. It no longer mattered if Loraine was a dream or not, if I got her or not, if she was a bird or a horse, or both. I kissed my brown-eyed doll, Belle, on her forehead. I held her to my chest and said, "Goodnight."
