posted
I am comfortable writing all kinds of stuff, from fantasy to political satire, from live journals to science fiction, but I never could get the hang of writing for children.
I kept adding to much that was interesting to me, way above what small children are set to handle.
I never tried.
Then, while returning from our annual Thanksgiving Day trek to Atlanta my son got upset. To calm him, I created the following story (It needs work, and pictures, but its a children's story start):
While driving down I24 outside of Chatanooga, if you look way up top of the mountains you will see a great big building.
Some say its a church.
Others say its a mansion for the wealthy.
But some of us know the truth.
Its the home of the Chatanooga Dragon.
Many, many years ago, before there were highways, or cars, or any such thing, Chatanooga was a small town with a big problem.
Every day smoke flowed down the mountain sides and filled the streets and the homes of the good Chatanoogers.
This made them cough.
And cough and cough and cough.
It hurt their throats so they could never yell, or scream, or shout or even sing.
Little Alex loved to sing. He loved it when his mother sang, but then the smoke would come and his mother would stop singing to cough and that was no fun at all.
So one day Alex had had enough. He took his trusty walking stick, and a sandwich for later, and a crisp apple, and he headed up the mountain to see where the smoke came from.
All morning he walked, and much of the afternoon, until he found a great big castle. The door was as big as a barn, and the barn, well it was bigger than anything Alex had ever seen except for the mountains themselves, and the castle.
The castle was even bigger than the barn.
But Alex was not afraid. He knocked on the door.
Bang, Bang.
The door slowly opened. Inside was a swirld of smoke and a glow of red and yellow. From it came a deep monsterous voice. "Who dares bother the Chatanooga Dragon?"
Many boys and girls would have been scared here, and Alex was a little. But Alex remembered his mother's cough, and her sweet singing voice that she rarely used. He shouted back, "I am Alex form the town below."
The voice chuckled. "Come in Alex From The Town Below."
As Alex walked into the smoky room, the door slammed closed behind him. A dragon tale tapped him on the shoulder. "What do you want."
"I've come to ask you to stop sending all of your smoke down into the valley." Alex spoke fast so he wouldn't cough.
"Why should I?" the dragon asked. "Why don't I just eat you up?"
At first Alex was afraid that he would be eaten. Then he stood firmer. "I don't think you like eating little boys."
Out of the smoke, the scarey dragon face leapt at Alex. "How do you know that is so" it hissed.
Alex jumped back. "There have been no little boys or girls missing. If you haven't started eating them before, I don't think you will start with skinny little me."
Alex crossed his arms and stood tall, for a little boy. He said those brave words right to the giant teeth of the dragon mouth.
The dragon opened his giant mouth, and let out with loud and wall shaking laugh.
"Har, Har, Har!" laughed the dragon. "No, I don't think I will start with a thin little boy like you. But still, I can't just stop sending my smoke down into the valley because you said please. What would the other dragon's think. I must trade it for something. What do you have to give me to save your town from my smoke?"
Alex thought hard.
He had eaten his sandwich.
He had eaten his apple.
He didn't think the dragon wanted his walking stick.
Little Alex didn't have anything else to give...
except...
perhaps...
his song.
Little Alex sang the song his mother sang.
But he sang it in his own sweet and pure voice.
For the dragon had not heard expected singing. It surprised him. The dragon listened and the dragon cried.
"Again" demanded the dragon.
"I cannot" coughed Alex. "The smoke won't let me."
"Then I will blow the smoke far, far away. But please, sing to me again. You sound almost like the song my mother sang when I was but a hatchling."
With two mighty sweeps of his dragon wings, the smoke blew far away. Little Alex sang again, until the dragon fell asleep smiling.
Too this day, once a month, the best singers from all of Chatanooga go up to the Chatanooga Dragon's castle, and sing him a lullaby. Too this day the dragon blows his smoke far, far away so as not to hurt the voices of the Chatanooga singers.
So next time you drive down I24 outside of Chatanooga, and you see the castle at the top of the mountain, sing him a little song. He'll blow all the smoke out of your way too.
Posts: 11895 | Registered: Apr 2002
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posted
Except... we little towns far, far away are the ones who get all the "dragon smoke" from the big cities' dragons, and end up with smog advisory days in our little farm villages...
Just bugging you. Good story!
Posts: 624 | Registered: Mar 2005
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quote:Every day smoke flowed down the mountain sides and filled the streets and the homes of the good Chatanoogers.
This made them cough.
It *is* good -- but something seems to happen between these two lines. The voice changes. It gets more simple, and more rhytmic. It seems that, between these two lines, you begin writing for a slightly younger audience than you were before.
Just my thoughts. Nothing a very, very slight edit wouldn't fix.
Posts: 2267 | Registered: May 2005
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beautiful!!!
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