The Creative Righters Journal
Memoirs
Nightmare House
Charlotte N. - 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.”
Lost and Found
Madeline R., Age 13
The carousel slowed down. The music stopped. After a dizzying spin, kids hopped off their wooden horses, laughing and cheering. But not Laura. Six-year-old Laura, head still spinning from the ride, searched through all the strange faces. But none of them was her Mommy. Panic swelled into her throat. A tight knot wrapped within her stomach. Hot tears blurred her eyes and the colorful carousel turned instantly into a haunted house. Lauda stood frozen, a tiny island lost in a sea of legs.
Then, a loud voice shouted through the roar. "Laura!"
It was Mommy. Her voice was heavy with worry. Finally, Laura could breathe again. Relief washed over her warm and soft. She turned and finally saw Mom, pushing through the crowd.
Mom scooped her up in a crushing hug. Tears spilled down Laura’s cheeks, hot and sticky, but this time, they were tears of joy. Buried in her arms, the chaotic carousel disappeared. She was safe, with her Mom, and everything was okay again. The Spinning Carousel …never again.
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.
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!
