Silver Pen and Youth Imagination Magazine encourages and fosters creative writing, and especially writing by younger authors - teens, preteens and young adults. We also encourage writing for this young audience, and love to see great stories by adult authors, too. When stories are developed and workshopped, there's always the questions, what's next? We have the "what's next" right here - a magazine that focuses on the creative writing by, and for, our youth, sparking their imagination.
Jack stood on the front porch shivering as snow fell around him. With a deep breath, he rang the doorbell. A second later, the door flew open.
“Rah!” yelled a boy dressed in a pair of Superman pajamas with a red cape trailing behind him.
“Hi, you must be Walter,” Jack said.
“Amanda, your boyfriend’s here,” said Walter as he ran away with the cape flying.
After a few awkward moments alone on the porch, Jack walked into the house. It smelled like gingerbread and hot apple cider. He heard Christmas carols playing in the background. The outside of the two-story house was outlined in white lights, and inside he noticed more festive decorations. So different from his parents' house where they didn’t even have a tree. He usually cringed at commercialism. But he had to admit, it was cozy inside.
Mother had just put the last bowl down on the table when the house shook again. Dad jumped in his seat. Nana moaned. The rest of us, Jessica, Uncle Brian, Aunt Florence and me, watched for Mother's reaction through the flickering candlelight. Untroubled, she sat down, put her hands together and said: "For what we are about to receive, may the lord make us truly—"
Again, the house shook. A picture fell from the wall and the house began to lean very slightly to one side. Some of the smaller, lighter items, the cutlery, the tumblers, the nearly-empty jar of English mustard, journeyed toward Aunt Florence and Uncle Brian. They spread their arms wide to block anything from falling while Jessica and I, from the opposite side, leaned over to grab what hadn't slid beyond the length of our arms.
Chapter Eight - It's Not Any Better
Hayley and I stomped our feet on the way up to the back door of Aunt Georgia's house, trying to get feeling back in our toes. This time of year was always cold, but it was twice as cold here, out in the middle of nowhere with no trees around. The wind blew hard enough to nearly knock us down. It stung our eyes and cheeks, and our fingers ached pretty quickly. It was worse for me because I didn't have gloves. Sometimes I got so mad at the wind, I swore into it, but the wind just took my words away. We had started riding our bikes to the stable in the mornings because it was faster. I had mostly forgiven Hayley for abandoning me at the party, so we were back to normal, laughing little frozen clouds out of our mouths as we rode.
Chapter Seven - My Education
Who needed school, anyway? I learned a lot from Hayley. Stuff like how to take care of horses, where to download music for free, how to ride a horse, and how to bum rides into town from Jared, one of Aunt Georgia's four farm workers. Hayley also taught me how to ride a bike, since Momma had never had the money to buy me a bike and we would've had to leave it behind somewhere, anyway. Most important, I learned how to keep quiet and stay out of Great Aunt Georgia's way. That old woman was every bit as mean as she was that first day when she yelled at my sister for singing.