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Old Untitled Short Story That I Wrote When I Was 8 Years Old

electricbluemonkey · 2005-01-31T02:11:10Z

ATTENTION! I wrote this story when I was 7-8 years old, and kind of...sucks, so be afraid, be very afraid! Many years ago there lived a Korean woman named Ha-Neul Sun. She was a poor, daughter of a shepherd who spent all day, and sometimes all night, planting crops and gathering fruits and vegetables to sell in the market. Every day she had to wake up at five o’clock in the morning and go to sleep at ten to be prepared for a new day of harvesting. One day, she was woken up by a soft whimpering sound that was coming from outside. As she went to alert her father the whimpering got louder and deeper so she thought she should take a look outside. Grabbing a walking stick as a weapon to protect herself against whatever was out there she walked leisurely out the door and stopped dead in her tracks. She slowly corked her head up and examined a tree. There, up on a big, brown, leafless Korean pine was a huge, ten feet tall bird. As Sun made her way closer to the tree she could make out what kind of bird it was. It was a brown and yellow, big-eared, long-beaked Great-Horned owl. Ha-Neul gasped and took a step back, grasping her walking stick hard and waving it at the owl. The owl took a step on a branch and flew down slowly, right next to Sun. As the owl flew off the branch the tree shook immensely and almost fell on Sun. Sun immediately got out of the way and looked at the owl. She noticed the owl had a big, thick, brown thorn stuck in its talon. Sun took the owl in, carefully trying not to wake up her father. It was almost five o’clock and she knew she needed to go work in the fields, but the owl needed her. Sun took the thorn out of the owl’s talon and made it rest. After the owl was okay again and it had slept for many hours Sun made it go outside where it could fly again. The owl nudged Sun for her to go on it. Sun did so and the owl lifted off high up in the clouds. Sun almost fell off the owl as they flew everywhere. She put her hands apart and glided on the owl at amazing speeds. They reached thirty miles per hour. Sun decided to land now that it was getting dark. The owl landed on the top of Sun’s house’s roof. Sun jumped down off the roof and walked into her house. Bo-Hinn-Kim, the town’s mage, was standing, arched over her father’s bed. He was putting something in Sun’s father’s mouth. The mage turned and told her that it was medicine; her father had gone sick with an incurable sickness. Sun asked him how they could cure him. The mage answered slowly and said that there was a faraway plant that when you played a lute to it just right, it would drop a fruit. They needed to get that fruit and get and enchanted hourglass called the Dwemer Hourglass to time the medicine. Sun set out with directions from the mage. She mounted the owl with a lute tied over her shoulder and set out toward a dark mountain. Now Sun had learned how to travel in the owl better. She went right and left and swooped down into the mountain. Sun got off and slowly walked into a big, dark, ominous cave. The owl followed, Sun insisted that it should stay but the owl had other plans. They walked and walked, skipping from rock to rock, watching out for holes in the ground. As they got to a wall Sun took out her lute. A plant was growing on the wall, climbing up on it and going through the roof. She slowly played her lute carefully and skillfully. She started fingering it and then striking the strings softly. The sound carried out for miles like clouds. The music was so soft and delightful that the owl almost started dancing but he stumbled and fell the second he moved his legs. The plant moved and a giant flower the size of a human’s head opened up, bearing a small fruit. Sun at once ran toward it and took the fruit. Now they only needed the hourglass. As she walked into a room something went flying at her. She flinched and ducked to the left just in time as a snowball came splattering into a wall. The owl jumped up and grabbed on to the plant’s root that was embedded into a wall. A snowball went whizzing past it and just missed its beautiful tail feathers. Sun examined the room. A white, fluffy snowman, almost ten feet tall, was standing there guarding a big, golden hourglass. It has branches for arms and a carrot for a nose and was flinging snowballs off his belly. Sun ducked once again and the owl charged at the snowman. The owl got sent back by a snowball. Sun looked out a narrow opening. She ran toward it and saw that rocks were in the way of it. The owl started hitting the rocks with its beak and they started falling down to the ground. The opening got bigger and a sheer streak of sunlight hit the snowman. Instantly it stopped for almost a minute. The ground started getting wetter and the snowman smaller and smaller. It was melting. The owl jumped up and snatched the hourglass. Sun jumped up on him and they flew outside. As they landed on the roof of the house again, the owl gave sun the hourglass. Sun carried the fruit and the hourglass inside and handed it to the mage. Days later, Sun’s father was well again and they were happier than ever with the giant owl that had helped them save a life. ____________________________________________________________________________________ Hmm, I don't even remember writing this story, must be even older...I should really date this stuff../

electricbluemonkey

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Mon Jun 13, 2005 2:53 am

electricbluemonkey says... · Mon Jun 13, 2005 2:53 am

Wow...thanks everyone...really. And Liz, you write way better than me! You're a very good writer! DONT GET YOURSELF DOWN LIKE THAT!

Ooh, I haven't had the time to rewrite this. I might...next weekend, if I can, but be sure to see it rewritten in June (when school is out).

Gotta a find a woman be good to me,
Who won't hide my liquor, try to serve me tea.

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Kilty

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Wed Jun 22, 2005 4:24 am

Kilty says... · Wed Jun 22, 2005 4:24 am

Wow. When I was eight I was still interested in poop jokes.

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Sam

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Wed Jun 22, 2005 4:39 am

Sam says... · Wed Jun 22, 2005 4:39 am

HEY!!

poop jokes are COOL!

*ahem*

Anyway...

Graffiti is the most passionate form of literature there is.

- Demetri Martin

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carelessaussie13

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Sat Nov 18, 2006 1:02 pm

carelessaussie13 says... · Sat Nov 18, 2006 1:02 pm

This is wicked good for an 8 year old, not that you haven't heard that before. Anyway, reworking this would be way cool.

All hail the painful process of rewriting! :roll:

“To awaken quite alone in a strange town is one of the pleasantest sensations in the world.” - Freya Stark

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Who wants to become a writer? And why? Because it’s the answer to everything. It’s the streaming reason for living. To note, to pin down, to build up, to create, to be astonished at nothing, to cherish the oddities, to let nothing go down the drain, to make something, to make a great flower out of life, even if it’s a cactus.
— Enid Bagnold

Old Untitled Short Story That I Wrote When I Was 8 Years Old

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