Writing as a kid

When I was little my ideas for stories far outpaced my ability to write. Luckily I had people around me (friends, teachers, family) who were willing to help. I just recently found a copy of The Silence, a story my mom wrote down for me when I was six. The paper is yellowed with age, the pencil is faded and the story obviously comes from the mind of a six-year-old. Maybe it's the obvious insert of my friends and sibling's names, or the title that I remember fretting over, or just the fact that it's in my mothers handwriting but there is something wonderful about it.



The Silence
       In the shadow of a lonely hill lay the small village of Hudson. The people of Hudson led happy and peaceful lives until one spring unusual things began to happen. It started when Josh Hewitt, a small boy of six, began disappearing while playing outside. Although he always turned up and seemed alright, he could never answer questions about where he had been. Most people were not concerned because they knew small children have a habit of wandering away, to chase a butterfly, follow a bug or walk toward someone or something seen off in the distance.
       People began to notice a silence that seemed to cover the village during Josh’s disappearance. No breezes stirred, no sounds of animals and not even sounds from the large city on the other side of the hill could be heard.
       The leaders of the village met to discuss the problem. They decided the best plan of action would be to follow Josh. For several days they tried this and found they could not keep up with a six year with unlimited energy and imagination. A decision was made to use other children to help. Three children were chosen, Lee Park, Susan Winningham and Lily Park. They were to spend time with Josh instead of following him. The next day the four children spent the entire day together. After Josh had gone home Lee, Susan and Lily reported back to the village leaders. They said they had all been with Josh every minute and nothing had happened. The leaders thanked the children and sent them home. After the children left the village leaders faced one another with worried looks in their eyes. Twice during the day the silence had come and both times all four children had been missing.
       Now the problem was whether to risk sending more children and maybe still have no answers or to try again with adults. A decision was made to have a village picnic. Tha way everyone would be in the same area and surely someone would catch Josh and the other children before the silence began. All the villagers were invited, from the youngest to the eldest, and all the answers came back that they would attend. The date was set and all the plans were made.
       The day of the picnic began with warm sunshine, gentle breezes and the calming sounds of animals and birds. The people of Hudson gathered near the village school for a picnic and a search for an answer.

       As the man and woman walk along the empty fields in the shadow of a lonely hill they talk about the old stories. The stories that have been passed down for many, many years about a village named Hudson. Of how one day the village and all of it’s people disappeared and nothing was left behind to show it had ever been there. They talk and laugh about how stories start and grow and how only the young or foolish believe in them. As they turn to walk away a silence seems to cover the area the breezes stop stirring and the birds overheard can longer be heard. Instead they hear the sounds of children laughing and playing and of adults talking and visiting, in fact it seems to be the sounds of a village picnic.
The End