This summer was our first FULL summer in Oregon. My parents wanted a change of scenery without risking our safety to Corona. That's when we heard about Sun River. Sun River has biking, hiking and a little too much family time. Some people say that Sun River is the best vacation spot. It's not only the best because of the activities …
After a late day in July, the Chow family packed our bags for SunRiver. The drive to Sun River was short … compared to the eleven hour drive to California. When we got there, we checked in, and the front desk gave us the keys to our cabin.
Our cabin was at the bottom of the hill (thank goodness), but it was isolated from the other cabins. We had our own patch of forest to explore, and I was looking for one of my latest obsessions: mushrooms. I started looking, very excited to see what I could find in the lush forest that surrounded our cabin like an island in the ocean. This habitat would be the perfect environment to go mushroom hunting, I thought to myself. After scanning the trees and forest floor, I decided to retreat back to the cabin.
After a disappointing search, I was walking up to the back door when I noticed one lone mushroom growing near the air vent. As I walked closer, I saw purple glitter scattered around the mushroom. I started to suspect that the people that came to this cabin before us must have had kindergarten girls that loved glitter. Then I noticed a hole in the vent.
I went to the front desk to see if anyone could tell me more about the vent., I learned that the vent led to the attic. I left the front desk in a hurry, anxious to explore the attic.
When I got there I saw nothing, until I turned on the light of course. There I saw a wing stuck in the air vent! It belonged to a little fairy as big as my pinkie finger. The fairy was struggling to get her wing out of the air vent, but her struggle was only making it worse.
Stunned, I stood staring at the little fairy for what felt like forever, until she calmed down and with her body language, she announced that the air vent had defeated her.
I decided to help her. I got a Q- tip, and gently slid her wing out of the vent. I brought her back to her mushroom home, and right before she slipped inside, she flew over to my suitcase and touched it with her wand then she touched all the stuff I was wearing, as well as my mushroom hunting gear. Then she sprinkled glitter on my head, and disappeared into her mushroom.
~ 2 days later ~
On the car ride home, I was wearing the same clothes that I wore on the first day at Sun River (the ones the fairy touched). Of course, my mom had washed them. We were driving back home when I heard a groan, “Uhhhhh.”
“Who was that?!’’ I exclaimed ,and looked down at myself. Then the same shock went through me as if I was seeing the fairy again, MY SHIRT WAS TALKING! At the next gas station my shirt explained everything. My shirt told me how the fairy had touched them, and she had given the power to talk to me, and no one else could hear it or me when I was talking to it. Before I could even begin to absorb all this unusual information, we got in the car and we were home.
When we got back home, I decided to tell no one about the magical powers given to me by the fairy. But I know that it happened. Just ask my pencil!
The Talking Basketball
by Kevin (6th grade)
Almost every night, my brother and I play basketball with friends at an elementary school. This time, it was a little different.
We were playing basketball, when something started screaming. “OOUCH! OOF! WATCH IT!” We stopped playing basketball, and figured out what was yelling.
It turns out, the ball was screaming! Yikes.
We asked what the basketball was doing, and it said it was having some fun. “Do all basketballs talk?” we asked.
It replied, “YES! It’s just that you guys never listen! We always talk, but you guys are too busy playing to listen!”
We switched to a different basketball to try and not harm the talking one, but the ball we switched to also talked. Every single basketball we tried out, talked and yelled, “Ouch!” when it hit the ground.
My friends, my brother and I decided to just practice shooting. The basketballs though, would move around in mid air so that every time we shot, the ball would go directly through the net and never hit the rim or backboard. When the basketballs saw we were confused, they explained to us, “When we hit the rim, it hurts.”
Because of this, we made every single shot, but right around 8:30, the basketballs went back to no talking mode.
We started scrimmaging again, and at around 9:00, we went back home to sleep.
Skating Through Time, by Alyssa (8th grade)
This summer my family went to Lava Beds, a series of caves which we could enter. All of the caves we went to were cool, but one of them was especially interesting. It provided an icy memory I would never forget…
Our shoes made a clacking sound as we headed down the steps to enter the bottom of the cave. It was so steep, you could almost call it a ladder. I was the only one who went down forward. The roof of the cave sometimes got so low that I had to duck down.
Finally, we reached the bottom of the cave. It was dark, with the only light source being our headlamps. We looked around at the icy terrain. The signs we saw before informed us that the cave used to be an ice rink about a hundred years ago.
I walked up to the railing and leaned on it, happy to be in the ice-cold cave after a hot day. I imagined people skating here a hundred years ago, their skates sliding over the very spot in which I stood. I was so lost inside the vision that I didn’t feel myself sliding under the railing, and suddenly there was no ground, and I was floating, falling…
I found myself sitting on ground smoother than marble, but cold as snow. The bottom of my thighs burned with chills, forcing me to stand up. I started to look around, seeing if I could somehow get myself back to the platform, but much to my surprise, there wasn’t a platform. In its place were a bunch of older men moving too swiftly for running , but too poised for falling. Were they… ice skating? The skates on their feet made me sure I was right, but how could I be right? The cave hadn’t been used as an ice rink for a hundred years. Was I hallucinating from the fall off of the platform? I lightly pinched myself in the arm. Nope, I was definitely on the ground of an ice rink from over a century ago. Ridiculous, but seemingly true.
One of the men skated up to me. I looked at him, searching for answers to my infinite questions. But he just clicked his tongue.
“Whatsa young lady like yourself doin’ here?” Before I could speak, he said, “Don’t look so flabbergasted. You should get back to your family, where it’s warm. And put on a petticoat while you’re at it. A lady shouldn’t dress as a man does.”
I opened my mouth to retort, but I thought the better of it. It’s not like he’d believe me if I said I was from the future. So I just said, “I’ll be alright skating, please let me stay.”
The man stared at me for a moment, then declared, “I’ll get you some skates.”
Delighted, I put on the skates he returned with. I hadn’t gone ice skating since December, so I was thrilled to join the fun. I got the hang of it quickly, sometimes moving faster than everyone else at the rink. I laughed as I sped around the cave, feeling like I was on top of the world.
A few laps later, I took off the skates and set them to the side. I put my regular shoes back on, climbing back onto the ladder above. I started thinking about where I was before skating, about the platform, the cave, my family…
“Alyssa?” I heard my mom ask. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I said with a small smile. “I’m good.”
I still think about the memory to this day. When I can’t fall asleep, I’ll remember speeding around the rink faster than everyone, and I’m out quick. Some days I can still feel the ice on the bottom of my thighs, almost like I’m back there in the ice rink cave, skating like there’s no tomorrow.
A Scottish Ghost Story
By Amelia (7th grade)
The gravel outside crunched as the car slowed to a halt. I toppled out of the car, my head spinning from the long, winding drive up to the castle. A slight drizzle sprinkled down on my bare arms, and a chilly breeze whispered through the trees, sending a chill down my spine. Typical Scottish weather. Even at the peak of summer, one ray of sunlight here was about as rare as snow in San Francisco.
I shrugged on my jacket before my mother could reprimand me for it and snapped open my umbrella. Above me, the great fortress loomed in the fog like an ominous shadow, waiting to pounce. It seemed almost like an omen that something was going to happen. Something irreversibly dark and unlike anything that had ever happened before. I laughed at the poet inside me, always making my life into the fairytale it could never be, always longing for an adventure. Little did I know exactly how accurate that poet would turn out to be.
I looked around at the splendid game room around me. Every inch was decorated in some sort of animal pelt or antler. Half marveling, half disgusted at the real fox fur underneath my feet, I wandered aimlessly through the glass cases and velvet roping. Then, I heard the words “ghost story” float from the direction of the main group. My attention instantly captured, I headed to where the tour guide was standing.
“It all started when the third Earl of the house was playing poker in a small adjacent room to this one, with one of the young lords staying at the manor.” The tour guide lowered her voice to a low gravelly whisper, and the room seemed to drop a few degrees. I shivered and pulled my jacket tightly around me.
“It was a Saturday night, and as the time neared midnight, a footman came to remind the Earl that soon it would be Sunday, and no work or play was to be done on the day of the Lord. However, the Earl had had many a glass of champagne, and in his half drunken state, he sent the footman impatiently away. At a half an hour to midnight, the footman came again to the door, only to be sent away again, with the threat of losing more than his position if he disturbed the Earl once more. With this decree, no one dared to approach the two drunken lords, and the Earl plated on, unaware of the minute Hand ticking ever closer to the top of the clock face on the grandfather clock behind him.
“At a minute to twelve, a knock sounded on the door. Completely drunk, the Earl shouted, ‘Didn’t I tell you not to interrupt me one more time if you wished to keep your head?’ However, it was not a servant's trembling voice that answered. A deep, resonating voice asked, ‘Do you not care that you are knowingly playing poker on the sacred day of the Lord if you continue one minute more?’ The Earl must have heard something commanding and ethereal in the voice, for he didn’t give the order of execution, and instead hesitated, frowning. But in the end, the alcohol addling his mind took over, for he replied contemptuously, ‘I am the Earl of this house, and I can play poker till doomsday if I like!’ ”
“The door was suddenly flung open, and a great cloaked figure stepped in. The Earl must have realized his mistake, for he fell to his knees. However, it was too late. As the grandfather clock chimed midnight, the cloaked figure raised its arms and boomed, ‘If you wish to play till doomsday, then so be it! You shall be locked in this room, playing poker to the end of time!’ As it said this, the brass key to the door flew out of the Earl’s pocket and into the figure’s waiting hand. It slammed the door on its way out. There was a faint click of the lock, and neither the Earl nor his friend were ever seen again.” I loosened a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. That tour guide was one good storyteller.
“And to this day, that door has remained locked. Some say that on Saturday evenings, if you listen very closely, you can hear the sounds of cards being shuffled and dealt coming from that room,” she finished, gesturing to an ornate wooden door.
As the group filed out, I noticed some intricate carvings in the door. When I stepped closer, a glint caught my eye. Bending down, I saw that it was a tarnished brass key. At that moment, I should’ve backed away and rejoined the group. But some phantom instinct - or maybe it was my inner poet telling me a proper heroine would never let down a chance for an adventure - compelled me to reach for the key.
The moment I grasped it, I was suddenly suspended inside my body, unable to move. Outside the window, the sky suddenly darkened to an evening light. The ropes and plaques in the room vanished, and when I observed them more closely, the hands of the ancient clocks spun backwards. When they stopped, I was in a room that was the same, yet so very different. This was the house back when it was still in use, I thought in surprise. Then, my hand reached forward of its own accord. Before I had even registered what had happened, it put the key into the lock of the door and turned it.
The door swung open. Inside, two deathly pale men were sitting at a poker table. Upon seeing me, one of them - the Earl - rose and said in a voice that made my skin crawl,
“Would you care to join us, young miss?” Every fiber of my being screamed at me to refuse, to get out of this haunted room, to run as fast as I could away from this gods-cursed place. But I could do nothing to control my body, so I could only stay, watching in horror as the Earl took my hand in his ice cold one, kissed it, and led me to the table. The muscles in my face pulled back into a smile as my hands picked up a hand of cards, as if controlled by some otherworldly invisible puppeteer. As my fingers picked up and laid down cards, I suddenly noticed the grandfather clock in the corner.
The hour hand was pointed slightly to the left of the twelve o’clock mark, and the minute hand pointed straight down. 10:30. Uh-oh. I had exactly an hour and a half to figure out how to escape this living nightmare, an hour and a half before that figure came and sealed me in with the Earl and his friend, before - oh, gods. I shuddered to think of the fate that would await me if I couldn’t get out in time. No, there had to be a way to end this horrid suspension in my body. So the next time it was my turn, I focused all my energy to my hand. Don’t pick up that card. But it was in vain. My fingers plucked out the cards as nimbly as ever. I would’ve wailed if I could’ve. I was going to be shut in here forever, fading away into a mere ghost story for some tour guide in the future to tell a visiting group of tourists. My panic mounted as the footman came and was dismissed, once, twice. In the last few minutes, time seemed to slow as I silently screamed and cursed this imprisonment inside my own body. It was so tauntingly easy; I could stand up, walk away, and never look back. But only in my head. My stupid, unyielding body kept smiling, even as the door banged open to reveal my demise.
Exactly as in the story, the Earl fell to his knees as the figure delivered his sentence from the Lord for not heeding the holy day of rest. It raised its arms, and the key - which was somehow still clamped in my left hand - wriggled free and disappeared into the clack depths of that cloak, along with my last hope of escaping. The clock chimed its last peals, and the figure turned aways, stepped out, and-
Stopped. The hood tilted towards me, as if it was sizing me up, considering. Desperately, I sent a silent plea for mercy. Please. I didn’t ever want to join this fateful game. This body is not controlled by me. All I want is to go back to my normal, adventure-free life. I’ll never complain about my life being boring, ever again. After a moment that contained eternity, the figure flicked one wrist and suddenly I could move. And move I did. Choking out a blubbering thanks to the already disappearing figure for sparing me, I dashed for the door, slamming it shut behind me. In the main room, the displays were back, and a weak afternoon sun shone through the window. It was just a figment of my imagination, I thought. Just a - a glint on the ground. A brass key, gleaming ominously at me from the ground. I ran.
“Where have you been?” my mother asked.
“Oh - just - I was looking for something, and I didn’t notice the group had moved on,” I stammered, hoping my mother couldn’t hear my pounding heart, which was now hammering very loudly now that my mind was once more connected to my body.
“Hm - well, try to keep up next time, alright?” I nodded, swallowing. Now all I wanted was to get as far as possible from this fortress.
“Is the tour almost over?” I asked. Hopefully I wasn't being too suspicious.
“Yes. Why?”
“Oh, I’m just - just hungry.” My mother seemed satisfied enough with this answer, which was all very well, as I didn’t think I would be able to say anything else without breaking down completely and going hysterical.
At long last, we stepped out from under the portcullis of the castle and clambered into the car. It was hard not to breathe a sigh of relief. I didn’t look back as we drove away. I couldn’t believe that what had just happened was actually real - and that I had gotten out alive. And because of the shocking events of those frightening hours, I never let myself wish for another adventure ever again. Well… at least for the rest of the vacation
Zip Lining in Tahoe, by Jackie (6th grade)
My first time at Tahoe in the summer had its ups and downs. However, I wasn’t prepared for the adventure that this particular area had for me.
We entered the forestry zip-lining park. To be honest, I was really scared for the upcoming adventure. Thoughts raced through my mind of how many things that could possibly go wrong. We swiftly put on our harnesses, and got onto our very first course. I attempted to hook on my harness, but it was pretty hard. We finished the first course pretty easily which gave me more confidence.
“Let’s do Rainbow!” My brother called. He pointed to the “rated intermediate” track. We went about halfway through the course before my confidence completely drained away. I slowly placed my foot on the single slippery piece of wood. I walked along the plank, but I suddenly slipped and got stuck. Oh boy. I struggled to get back on the plank, but I couldn’t quite reach it. My and slipped off of the plank over and over and over again.
“You’re alright!” I heard my dad yell. I used the harness strap to pull myself up to the plank. I somehow managed to get a hold on the plank and finished the course. There wasn’t a chance I would try anything like that again. But obviously, I got outvoted and we continued on our journey.
After some more courses, we made our way to a black diamond course, and I feared for the worst. My legs and my arms ached, and I was definitely ready to go home. But of course, everyone else wanted to do more. So I got outvoted again.
By now, I was pretty good at hooking myself to the course line, so it wasn’t hard to get started. I carefully stepped onto one of the thin rings, and tried to balance myself. I slowly made my way through the first obstacle.
Finally! I was halfway through. My confidence that I had lost came back, and I was going faster and faster through the course. Little did I know, that the harness that was keeping me safe was slowly splitting in two. Eventually, the harness plit, and I had nothing keeping me from falling to my death. Without warning, my split harness snapped again and startled me. I was sent tumbling to the ground not knowing what to do next.
“AAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!” I screamed. I was falling fast so I needed to act quick. I decided to hold my breath, and close my eyes. I prepared myself to break every bone in my body. Time seemed to slow as I fell, so that gave me a lot of time to think.
“I’m going to die… I’m going to die… I’m going to die… I’m going to die…” I kept repeating to myself as I fell. Suddenly, I felt something come up under me, and I started to slowly go… up?
“Whaaa?” I opened my eyes and saw a beautiful bird underneath me. I couldn’t believe my eyes, “What in the world is happening?” I realized that the pretty bird was carrying me.
“This is… FUN!” I heard clicks of cameras, and people screaming in shock of what just happened.
A while later, the bird returned me to the ground. Then, the strangest thing happened. The bird seemed to “talk” to me!
“If you ever need help, just call,” The bird squawked. I heard more clicks, and then the bird lifted off into the sky and disappeared.
From then on, my life changed. Videos people took of me were trending on youtube, and families shared pictures with each other. But, I never called that bird again. Who knows? Maybe I will need her one day!
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