You would be surprised to hear that my four year old sister concocted this magnificent story. Just imagine the story possibilities with an imaginative kid running around!
An Old Woman’s Elephant
By Abigail Doubleday
4 years old
Mary is shoveling. She’s a tiny woman who can only make little piles of snow with her short shovel. Her chair inside her house is the same size and she sits in it every day. She only has one chair at her dining room table and has small bits of food to eat. Sometimes she doesn’t have any food. She always has a pout on her face and crunched eyebrows. Today is sad for the woman because she has no one to play with and nothing to do.
Mary is alone because no one lives around her. No one wants to either. She used to wear dresses to parties with other people, but no one liked them because no one liked her. Her dresses aren’t like the other girls dresses because Mary’s dresses are a mix between black and white, but not quite gray. The dresses Mary wore were mostly dirty dresses with holes in them.
Today Mary is extra sad. So Mary puts down her shovel and finds her helicopter that she built all by herself. She builds a lot of things, and this helicopter is one of the best things she made. She knows how to build everything, but she doesn’t know how to make friends with other people.
Mary climbs into her helicopter and flies up into the sky. From up in the sky Mary can see all the land like a big map. Her house is hidden behind lots of trees. The closest house is another state over. Mary realizes how alone her house is.
Mary sees a pink spot from the sky and soars down to see what it is. When she stops the helicopter Mary notices a stuffy elephant. He’s a special elephant who is striped pink with blue polka dots. He reminds Mary of a rainbow, like the one she used to watch when she was little. Mary hugs and snuggles with the teeny tiny elephant. They go into the helicopter and fly to Mary’s home.
Mary doesn’t have to be alone anymore. She smiles at the elephant and he snuggles with her again.
After my sister Abby spinned this story off to me, she simply nodded her head and said, “It’s a sad story.” And then ran off to play. Who knew such a young girl could hold such bursting talent as a storyteller? I’d even go as far to say that anyone can be a successful writer if they try. Anyone who plays with their story like a child, playing the “what if” game and letting their imagination run wild can become a writer.