My heart beats a little quicker at the words ‘writing contest.’ Forget the laundry and the dishes, I have a new story to write! This time, the contest is the Fall Writing Frenzy. The rules are simple: Pick one of the Fall images provided (from those in the link above) and write about it through a poem, a story, a mood piece, or whatever comes to mind. Happy, scary, beautiful, grotesque, whatever suits your fancy for any kidlit age: board book through young adult. The word limit, minus the title, must be no more than 200. My story comes in at 197 words.
I scrolled through the images but kept returning to the photograph of the solitary witch in the wilderness. I wondered why she was alone. Did she prefer life this way, or did she hold a special wish in her heart? And what was she brewing in her cauldron? A spell? Wart remover? Dinner?
I decided that the one thing my little witch craved most of all was the very thing you and I crave, too.
I hope my Halloween story fills your heart with a case of the warm, fuzzies.
THE FRIENDSHIP BREW
Eleanor dropped a clock into her potion.
“What spell are you brewing?” asked her sister, Naomi.
“I’m making a friend who has time to play.”
“I’ll help you,” Naomi promised, “even if it takes all day.”
Eleanor added a pinch of insect wings. “I also want someone to share
“Sounds perfect! I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
Eleanor handed Naomi the spoon.
“What else do you want your friend to be?” Naomi asked.
“Someone who’ll listen when I’m happy or sad,” Eleanor replied.
Naomi offered her seashell, shaped like an ear. “Anything else?”
“Someone who cares.”
Naomi opened a pouch and dropped in a heart-shaped stone.
“Come out, come out!” Eleanor called into the potion. When no friend
appeared, she kicked her cauldron. “I knew I couldn’t make a friend.”
Eleanor wandered through the woods with Naomi for hours. They traded
favorite spells, gathered fresh ingredients, and nibbled buttered, beetle
“Thanks for helping me,” Eleanor said.
Naomi offered a hug. “It’s what sisters do.”
That evening, Eleanor filled up her cauldron again.
“What spell are you brewing this time?” Naomi asked.
“No spell.” Eleanor held out a bowl. “I made dinner for my friend.”
Leslie Leibhardt Goodman
May you know the inexplicable joy of a truly perfect friendship.
I’ll see you back here for The Monday Poems!