The Christmas Puppy

The Christmas Puppy

by

Meagan Szemerda

(age 15)

Milly and her mother, Jillian, sat on the couch in the living room, looking at pictures of dogs on Jillian's laptop. Milly desperately wanted a puppy, and her parents had decided to get her one for Christmas this year. They scrolled through pictures and pictures of dogs, but none seemed to interest the energetic eight-year-old. Suddenly, as Jillian was scrolling, Milly squealed and pointed to a picture. On the screen was an adorable little dog with a curly grey coat. Jillian zoomed in on the dog and smiled. 'This one's perfect.' she thought.

   When Milly went to bed on Christmas Eve, she prayed the fuzzy dog would be under the overly-decorated tree in the morning. She spent a half hour lying on her bed, pajamas on and teeth brushed, thinking of names for her new puppy before her eyes closed and she fell into a deep sleep. Before she knew it, it was 6:30 in the morning. She got out of bed and raced down the stairs of the townhouse towards presents she knew would be under the tree. Her parents were already sitting on the sofa with hot coffees in their hands. "Open the big yellow one first, Milly!" Jillian smiled.

   Milly did just that. Inside the box (with air holes in the top) was a black and white puppy with chocolaty brown eyes. Milly squealed with delight as her daddy gathered the soft Schnoodle in his arms. He handed her to Milly, who giggled when the pup licked her nose. "What are you going to name her?"

Milly grinned, "Sophie!"

~

(assignment for Lesson #4 of Polliwog Writing Lessons)

If you are between the ages of 12-18,

(or know someone who likes to write stories)

I would like to post your story here.

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The Winter Journey

The Winter Journey

by

Meagan Szemerda

(age 14)

   

   The falling snow blows into my eyes, blurring my vision. I can barely see as I race through the forest. Massive trees shake ain the howling wind. I fear for my life. If one might fall on me, I would surely perish. Some of the lower branches whip across my face and arms, leaving me not only cold, but in pain. I attempt to dodge them, but to no avail.

   I urge my trusty steed, Bandit, onwards through the storm. I must make it back to my love before Christmas Day. I had promised her I would be there, and I am a man of my word. I started my journey across the woods this morning in an attempt to beat the oncoming storm. 

   I hear the soft patter of my horse's galloping hooves hitting the snow-covered ground. If I were not in pain, I may have found it soothing. Some coyotes or wolves howled nearby. 

   I see a light a couple of hundred feet ahead of me. A warm feeling sparks in the depths of my stomach. I smile in anticipation of seeing Cordelia again. Soon I was halting Bandit in front of her cottage and lowering myself from him. I hope it will be okay for me to take him into the barn for shelter. I do, and feed him an apple before retreating into Cordelia's house. 

   A crippled man welcomes me. I assume he is Cordelia's father.  As I introduced myself, a beautiful blonde girl in a red dress envelopes me into a hug. "My love! I have missed you so!" 

(assignment for Lesson #3 of Polliwog Writing Lessons)


If you are between the ages of 12-18,

(or know someone who likes to write stories)

I would like to post your story here.

Send me an email. I'd love to read your story!

Melody's Letter

Melody's Letter

by

Meagan Szemerda

(age 14)

    I was written a long, long time ago. It was the year 2015 in a town called Kotor in Montenegro. A girl named Melody came up with the code that makes me who I am. She showed it to no one and burned the key to the code. And thus the mystery of what I say- of what I am. 

   Fifty years after I was written, I was put into a museum. People came and stared at me, trying to figure me out. After another 100 years in the museum, universities started hiring academic professionals to solve me, to no avail. Soon enough- over 1000 years after being written- I was forgotten, put aside. No one thought about me anymore. 

   But that, of course, was just the beginning. A big fire at the museum destroyed almost every artifact except me. All eyes were on me again. I was famous. People remembered me! I felt important again. People far and wide came to look at me: Americans, Canadians, Italians, Croatians, Japanese, Chinese, Russians, Germans. Everyone was attempting solve me mystery. 

   But the hype died down. I was a pointless code that would forever remain a mystery. I was never going to be solved. People would come and go, but no one would be as smart as my Melody. 

   Suddenly, I was the oldest paper document in existence. I was popular, and mentioned in the news, but I don't care anymore. It's happened too often. I'll be left again. It has happened for over a thousand years; I was popular, then I wasn't. No one would ever figure out my code, and I was coming to terms with that. 

   In the year 4026, a man named John walked through the museum doors. He reminded me greatly of my Melody. He was intelligent. He was also very different. He was very serious and quite a bit older than Melody. He stared at me for days; weeks even. He was trying to crack my code. One day, he just up and left, but not before memorizing me. 

   John came back the next year. He stood on the stage in front of me, looking at the many cameras in the room. He cleared his throat. "Hello. My name is Doctor John Smith. Today, I have some wonderful news concerning Melody's Letter. I believe I have solved the detailed code that has had people confused for generations." He went on to explain how the code 

worked that day. After over two thousand years, Dr. John Smith had me figured out. 

   "The message written long ago by Melody Williams is this, 'I knew when I met you that an adventure was going to happen -Winnie the Pooh'."

(assignment for Lesson #2 of Polliwog Writing Lessons)

If you are between the ages of 12-18,

(or know someone who likes to write stories)

I would like to post your story here.

Send me an email. I'd love to read your story!

The Ancient Colosseum of Rome

•The Ancient Colosseum of Rome•

by 

Meagan Szemerda

(age 14)

   The Colosseum has always intrigued me. The idea of a two thousand year old ruin still standing astounded me. In October 2013, my parents, my sister, and I went to Rome. After an eight hour flight and a three day cruise, we arrived. 

   At the stadium, I climbed the stairs to the second story and looked out at the city. Rome was busier than I expected. The streets were filled with cars honking and brakes screeching as they try to maneuver their way through the city built on seven hills. I expected there to be nothing but ruins (like in Pompeii), but it was a bustling, modern city built around the decaying ruins of the Colosseum.  The old dusty air mixed with the scent of gasoline did not stink, but made for an interesting, new smell. 

  The structure was four stories tall at the time, but thousands of years later, only half has all four levels. It was a very faded white, laced with dirt and soot from the many years it has endured. It was truly beautiful. 

   The second I touched the rough stone walls of the ancient Colosseum, I could feel the weight of what had happened there: Christians being persecuted and gladiators fighting to the death. It almost made me sick. I saw the catacombs that held lions, other animals, slaves, or prisoners. The noises and smells of those ancient times were beyond my wildest dreams.

   But yet, with my imagination, I could see how magnificent the structure would've been during the time of the Roman Empire. History was definitely there.

   I wish I could remember more, but these are the memories of a twelve year old girl- a twelve year old who loved history and had a big imagination. 

(assignment for Lesson #1 of Polliwog Writing Lessons)


If you are between the ages of 12-18,

(or know someone who likes to write stories)

I would like to post your story here.

Send me an email. I'd love to read your story!