The Creative Righters Journal
Memoirs
Alicia B., Age 14: The Appliances
Kay Age 10 : Amy
Myles A, Age 9: My Favorite
Alex, Age 10: Fortress
Izzy B., Age 10 : Mommy's Rules
Anna Age 6: My Trip
Hill M., Age 16: I Am Princess
Nightmare House
Charlotte - Age 10
For the first time, I held my dad’s life within my tiny 7 year old hands. On top of the rickety roof, the wind blew violently and shook the tiles like loose teeth. Shivering, my dad bravely climbed up the roof only with a deteriorated soggy rope tied around his waist. The string which held my dad from falling off was tied onto the balcony door and was slowly starting to loosen. I grabbed onto the rope like it was the end of the world. “It’s too dangerous Daddy! You have to come down now!” I screamed to my dad. He continued to climb up and said, “I’ll be fine Childe.”
Wait, you must be wondering how I got here. Well, it all started when my dad and mom had an idea to build a dream house for our family. This home was supposed to be a gathering area for everyone in our big family, including my grandma, Ama. My parents decided to buy a worn out house, tear it down, and make it the house of our dreams. I thought to myself, “This is crazy!”
A couple months later, I visited the worn out house to see nothing there at all. All that was left was an empty hole in the ground where the old house used to stand. My dad had the construction team destroy and remove the entire 120 year old house. I was so surprised, I couldn’t believe it. How were we going to finish this house? There was nothing left for us to build on. We had so much to take care of already. My grandmother had become bedridden and ill and we had my little 1 year old sister to take care of.
How could anything get worse?
Of course, it did. Coronavirus came and the construction workers were forced to stop building the house. My dad couldn’t stand looking at the half built home we had been working on for already 2 years. It was such an eyesore to him that my dad decided to work on it himself with the help of little old me, a 7 year old who had taken 1 summer of wood shop classes at the YMCA. I knew I could help build this house.
So, he took me to the balcony of the wrecked home and tied a string around his waist. “ Do you see this?” He pointed to the dreary rope and said, “I’m going to tie the other end onto the balcony door and climb up the roof so I can paint it.” That’s how we got to the rooftop.
Anyways, let's continue.
As the wind roared, my dad tripped on the rooftop with the bucket in his hand, and was about to fall down head first. He recovered his footing, to my relief. My dad began to work, painting the roof tiles quickly, so he could move onto the next. Covering every little crack with black paint, his hands shook with nervousness, in fear of falling. Every time my dad moved, his heart made a loud thumping sound. After feeling satisfied with his work, my dad cautiously climbed the ladder to get back onto the balcony. I was so glad he made it back alive that I screamed with tears of joy in my eyes.
We left the ‘dream house’ to go back and check on my mom and Ama. But, instead of seeing their happy faces, we saw a doctor talking to my mom. I went to wash my hands when I overheard a little bit of the conversation. The doctor was shaking his head and whispered, “She’s not going to make it. Your mom doesn’t have much time left.” The doctor swiftly walked out of the door with his group of nurses. My mom was holding in her tears, trying not to cry. I was too and I could see my dad was also trying to hold in his tears. The dream house didn’t seem to matter at all anymore.
A couple weeks later, the builders were allowed to start working again and we were making lots of progress. The house was a month away from finishing and my mom told me to stay at my other grandma’s house for a week. I said goodbye to Ama knowing it would be the last time I could see her. I walked to the car with tears in my eyes. Helping my baby sister into the car, I looked back at the window seeing my mom wave back at me with a sorrowful look in her eyes. My dad, sister and I didn’t say a word as we drove to my other grandma’s house.
When we finally reached our destination, my dad's mom warmly welcomed us in. Even though her welcome was sweet, it couldn’t shake my sadness. Every night before I went to bed I would rock myself back and forth thinking about how Ama was.
When we finally came back to see mom and Ama, the house felt dark and grim with a smell of depression in the air. My mom welcomed us back and said,“Ama was suffering a lot, but now she’s feeling better. Even though she isn’t here with us she doesn’t feel any pain anymore. ” As she said this, tears started to steam down her face.
We all cried for a long time and held each other.
When my mom said that, I knew what she was trying to sugar-coat - Ama’s death. Before this, we had spent every day talking to Ama about the blueprints of the house, showing her every detail. Everytime we did, she would say, “Oh this house looks so great! Which room is mine? Give me the biggest room please.”
Now, when I think about it, she had been so excited for the house. But, she passed away right before we finished. Our family had been crushed. The biggest dream we had was living together with Ama in this house - to spend good times with people close to her. But we were too late. Ama had died 1 month before the house was finished.
My dad was so depressed. My mom was anxious and mad, but I couldn’t do anything. My dad said, “ What a terrible idea this was, building this house. We should just sell it.” My mom said, “ Why did we even do this? We should have just spent the rest of the time we could with Ama.”
All these negative ideas circled the family like a never ending storm. I felt like I wanted to do something, but I was helpless. I walked up to my dad as he was rocking back and forth in a chair and said, “ You can’t give up now Daddy, we're so close. Even if Ama isn’t here we still have to finish it. Let’s make her dream come true. We can do it together."
My dad looked at me with shocked eyes. I thought he would yell at me. But instead, he couldn’t believe the words I had just spoken. “You know what?” he said. “You’re right Childe.”
After weeks of hard work we finally finished and moved into the dream house. It was almost perfect - multiple bathrooms and bedrooms for everyone. It would have been perfect though if Ama was there to see it with us. Even though there were times where we wanted to just sell the hole in the ground and give up, we pushed through and overcame all the challenges.
The other day, my dad came up to me and said, “ Thanks Childe.” I looked at him in confusion and I said, “ For saving you from getting blown off of the roof?” He chuckled a little and said, “ No silly, for keeping me from giving up.”
Amy
Kay - Age. 10
Do you have a friend who loves you?
I did.
Her name was Amy. She was one of the best friends I’ve ever had. She was like family. Amy was so sweet kind. I loved her too.
Every summer, we would go swimming. It was so much fun, even though she often had to rest because she wasn't feeling well.
Amy was everything. She always listened to me when I had a problem. She was the first person to help me with my homework.
Last summer, things changed. Amy had cancer, and two weeks later, she was gone.
It broke my heart. Suddenly, Amy wasn't there anymore. It's been 1 year since she died, but I still see her in my dreams. Life feels much heavier without her, and everything has changed. I miss her every day, but I know that no matter where I go, I’ll always carry a special place for Amy in my heart.
Lesson
Eric P. - Age 12
My little brother is annoying. Every day he says, “Eric, I wonder why people can talk but animals can’t.”
Or, “I wonder why the ocean looks blue.”
Of course, I don’t know the answers, but I can't let him know that. I just make up possible explanations, and he accepts them as if I’m the smartest person in the world. Before I answer one of his questions, I usually tell him that he’s pretty stupid and asks too many questions.
Yesterday we both got our report cards. I got B’s and C’s, and he got straight A’s. Under the “Comments” section on my report card, it said, “Eric would be getting better grades if he asked more questions.” Of course, on my brother’s report card, it said just the opposite.
To make things worse, my brother bragged all day about how I was so stupid for not asking questions. I just told him he was right—I wouldn't make fun of him anymore for asking so many questions.
Yeah. My little brother taught me something. Never be afraid to ask questions, and NEVER be afraid to wonder why.
I Am Princess
Hill M. - Age 16
My counselor says make some friends. But I have lots of friends. He keeps saying it though. I tell him he can't speak to me like that.
I'm royalty.
He doesn't know what it's like to be a princess. No one does. I am special, beautiful, smart and funny. Everyone agrees. I tell the people at school this. They laugh and tell me I'm crazy. The teachers look at me with sympathy.
They must know how hard it is to be princess. I may be a little annoying, but I'm most certainly not crazy. I try to explain this, but they just smile and pat me on the back, saying, 'sure sure'. I am princess though. If I was crazy I would have been told by now.
Mommy's Rules
Izzy B. - Age. 10
One day, my mom told me she had some new rules for me and my sisters.
We never really had any rules before - other than "Be Good."
Well, Mom took care of that and started giving us the “New Rules.”
Clean your rooms every day. Be ready for dinner at 5:00 p.m.
Be ready for bed at 9:00 p.m.
Wake up at 7:00 a.m. and get ready for school. Take the garbage cans out on Monday morning before school. Clean the bathroom on Friday.
You know what though? The rules aren't that bad. Sometimes its kinda fun.
Mom made these rules because she loves us. She wants us to learn how to be on time, be clean and neat, and be polite. So every day, we try to follow the rules.
Mother
Nila V. - Age. 10
My mom doesn't wear a cape. She works at two jobs and her feet are always sore.
But she never let her stress become my stress. Even when she’s tired, she can make something out of nothing.
Since we don't have money for theme parks, she made up "Floor Picnic Friday."
We sit on a blanket in the living room with flashlights and eat grilled cheese. Last week, when I was sad, she didn't say much. She just gave me chocolate milk and told me she was proud of how hard I try.
I see her at the kitchen table late at night with alot of bills, looking really tired. But when I walk in, she hides the papers and smiles just for me. My mom is the best. She does everything to try to make me happy.
Tomorrow, I'll try to do something to make her happy too.
Fortress
Alex - Age. 10
If you saw my backyard, you’d just see a bunch of old junk my dad was going to throw away, and a huge oak tree. But if you’re one of my friends, you know it’s actually the Fortress. It’s the only place in the neighborhood where parents aren't allowed.
Building it was hard. My best friend, Leo, and I spent three weekends bringing wood and cardboard from the construction area nearby. My hands were full of splinters by the time we finished the main floor. The walls are held together by heavy-duty duct tape that’s supposed to be waterproof.
The best part is the "Command Center." We dragged an old beanbag chair up there and found a lantern that makes the whole place glow green at night. We keep a stash of "emergency rations"- chips and juice—hidden under a loose floorboard so the raccoons don't find them.
Last Tuesday, we had our first "siege." Older kids from the next block tried to hit the walls with water balloons. Leo and I climbed up to the lookout tower and launched a counter-attack with our Super Soakers. They retreated. The Fortress held up perfectly.
When I’m up there, I don't have to worry about math homework or cleaning my room. It’s the one spot where I’m free. It’s not a pile of junk—it’s our fortress, and it’s the greatest thing I’ve ever built.
Falling
James F. - Age. 16
Am I falling? Or am I flying?
The sky is a giant, empty room where I’m trying to find my footing, but there isn’t any floor. Being fifteen feels like someone pushed me out of a plane and forgot to check if my parachute was actually a backpack full of rocks.
One minute, I’m falling. The wind is screaming in my ears, and it’s cold—so cold it feels like needles on my skin. That’s the "falling" part of life. It’s failing the algebra quiz, the weird silence when I sit at the wrong lunch table, and the feeling that everyone else has a remote control for their gravity while I’m just tumbling. I look down and the ground is coming up fast, and my stomach is doing backflips I never asked for.
But then, I stop fighting the air. I stretch my arms out wide, and suddenly, the wind isn't hitting me—it’s carrying me.
I’m not just falling anymore; I’m gliding. I see the tops of the trees like green popcorn and the silver thread of the river. It’s the late-night jokes that make my ribs hurt, the song that finally makes sense, and that one second where I actually feel like I’m pretty good at being me.
The weirdest thing about being a kid is that you’re doing both at the exact same time. I'm scared of crashing, but also so addicted to the view. I’m just a speck in the clouds, messy and untied, waiting to see if I’ll land on my feet or keep soaring until the sun goes down. The air feels amazing.
My Favorite
Myles A. - Age. 9
If I could live anywhere in the world, I’d pick Santa Cruz. My parents take me there every summer.
The Boardwalk has bright colors and the loud music. The Giant Dipper is really exciting. It’s a massive wooden roller coaster. Every time we go over the first big drop, my stomach feels like it stayed at the top of the hill while the rest of me dropped. I always scream so loud I lose my voice.
When we aren’t riding the Logger’s Revenge, we go to the arcade. I’ve spent a small fortune in quarters trying to win those tickets for the plastic spider or giant eraser.
Later, we usually walk down to the sand. The Ocean is cold—but I still try to play until my toes go numb. Last time, I saw a huge sea otter just floating on its back, cracking a shell on its belly. It's better than seeing one at a zoo because it was just out there doing its own thing.
Leaving Santa Cruz is the worst part of the trip. I always stare out the back window of the car as we drive away, watching the Giant Dipper get smaller and smaller. But I always keep a little bag of saltwater taffy in my pocket for the ride home. It’s like a little piece of the Boardwalk I get to keep until next year.
Jinx
Anna B., Age 13
On a gloomy, rain filled afternoon, I sat on the couch feeling lonely.
But I wasn’t alone. A wet nose massaged my hand. There, looking up at me with sad brown eyes, was Jinx, my sweet little terrier.
Jinx isn't just a dog. She's my best friend for life. With a whine, she hopped onto the couch, burying herself under my arm. Her warmth poured into my bones. It was a silent comfort. I wrapped my arm around her, rubbing my face in her soft fur. A happy sigh escaped her, and a choked laugh grew in me.
Jinx has this magical ability to sense my emotions. When I'm down, she becomes a furry shadow of support. When I'm happy, her playfulness arrives - her tail wagging a joyful pattern. We chase each other through the park, her barks echoing my laughter.
Jinx may not understand my words, but she speaks a language far more important – the language of loyalty and friendship. When she cuddles me, I have the strength to face any challenge.
With Jinx near me, I can find rays of sunshine even on the rainiest of days.
Lost and Found
Madeline R., Age 13
The music stopped and the Carousel stopped moving. But Mommy wasn't anywhere to be found.
My panic rose. Every time I swung past the fence, I searched for that blue sweater, but it was like she’d been erased. I felt tiny. I was starting to cry when the music finally groaned and died. The horses slowed down, their wooden hooves clacking.
I stayed on my horse, staring at my shoes, feeling totally lost in the middle of a crowd. Then, a hand touched my knee.
"Ready to go, baby?"
It was Mommy. She was standing in the exact same spot, looking like she hadn't moved an inch.
"I thought you left," I cried, wiping my face before she could see.
She just laughed and reached up to help me down. "I was right here the whole time. You were just moving too fast to see me.".
The Appliances
Alicia B., Age 14
This part of the trip is something I’ll never forget, but not because of the shiny fridges.
As we walked through the aisles, I started noticing how the salesmen were looking at us. My dad was wearing his old work boots with the scuffed toes, and his shirt had a little grease stain from fixing the car earlier. The guy in the suit didn't come over to help us for a long time. He just stood by the expensive French-door fridges and watched us like he thought we were going to break something.
When Dad finally asked a question about a scratch-and-dent model, the guy gave a huff and pointed to the very back corner of the store, near the loading dock. He didn't even walk us there. I felt my face get hot. I wanted to tell the guy that my dad was the smartest person I knew, but Dad just squeezed my shoulder and whispered, "Don't worry about it, kiddo. We’re here for the machine, not the attitude."
We spent forever looking at the cheapest models. Dad was checking every bolt and every rack, trying to find the one that would last the longest so he wouldn't have to buy another one for ten years. I realized then that while I was busy looking at the touchscreens, Dad was doing math in his head, trying to figure out how to pay for this without us missing out on anything else.
Even though we didn't have much, and the store people were being totally rude, my dad didn't let it ruin our day. He kept making jokes and telling me how "fancy" our kitchen was going to look. He was trying so hard to make it feel like an adventure instead of a struggle.
When we finally paid, Dad had to count out a bunch of bills he’d clearly been saving in an envelope. The cashier didn't even say "have a nice day." But as we walked out to our old truck, Dad handed me that giant soft pretzel. It probably cost five bucks, which was a lot for us right then.
I looked at the pretzel and then at my dad’s tired eyes, and I realized something. My parents might be poor, but they always tried to give me the best version of life, even if it meant they had to take the "scratch-and-dent" version for themselves.
Super Duper Pizza Party
Alison C., Age 10
Attention young chefs!
Let’s make the best meal ever: pizza! It's like a giant edible canvas. Are you ready to make your own masterpiece?
First, grab some pizza dough. Mix flour, water and yeast, if you want to be extra awesome and make it from scratch. Or, use a slice of white bread if you don’t have it.
Now roll the dough out and make it thin and round. Twirl it in the air a couple times like a real pro, but don’t drop it on the floor. If you do, take a napkin and wipe it clean and pretend it never happened!
Now comes the fun part: toppings! Use tomato sauce, mozzarella cheese, and pepperoni slices. If you don’t have any pizza sauce, use a packet of ketchup. If you don’t have mozzarella cheese, use a slice of Kraft yellow cheese. Trust me, it sounds terrible, but it’s still good. Sprinkle some oregano seasoning if you don’t have pepperoni.
Once you've chosen your toppings, help spread the sauce on the dough. Then sprinkle on the cheese and pile high your favorite toppings.
Finally, put your masterpiece in a hot oven until the crust is golden brown and the cheese is all bubbly. Yummy!
Giving Life
Julie F., Age 13
Do you have a friend who feels like your own sister? I did. Her name was Sara . She was my best friend in the whole world. Sara had the best laugh and cute pigtails, and we always promised we’d be friends until we were old ladies. I loved her so much.
Every summer, we played in the sprinkler in her backyard. We had so much fun running through the cold water until our grass was all muddy. But after a while, Sara couldn't really run anymore because she got sick. Sometimes our other friends would come over, but I liked it better when it was just me and Sara. I just wanted to sit on the porch and pull grass with her.
Sara always listened to my secrets. When I was scared of the dark or got in trouble at school, she told me it would be okay. Sometimes her mom would let me come in their kitchen and give us a snack. Usually, it was apple slices and juice boxes.
Then last year, Sara was diagnosed with cancer. Only a few weeks after the doctors told her family, she died. It happened so fast. They had a funeral for her, but my mom told me I was too young to go to the funeral home. She said she wanted me to remember Sara playing, not sleeping. It made my heart feel like it was cracking in half.
Sara isn't here anymore. It’s been a year now, but I still see her when I close my eyes. It’s really hard going to school and seeing her empty desk. My whole life feels different without her, and I miss her every single day. Why is life so hard?
Trip
Anna, Age 6
One day I went all the way to Canada.
It was so cool.
I met other kids there. I saw a deer in the fields.
I went to a beautiful lake. I tried to skip rocks while jumping in the air. They didn't bounce very far.
It was really fun in Canada. I met new friends.
I think I'll come back again someday.
