Rubbing Off

Yesterday afternoon, my brother came up to me with a bright and excited look on his face. "Look, Morynn! I wrote a story." He handed me the papers which his story was written on. I smiled. "That's awesome. You like writing stories, too?"
"Yeah! You gonna read it?"
"Of course I am! I'm a little busy right now so I'll read it later, kay?"
"Oh. Okay."

This morning I pulled out his story and read it. He named it, "The Poem". It's about a Nazi doctor who had to decode a poem in a lost language. What does it say? What does it mean? What is Hitler going to do with its message? It's a wonderful story written by an eleven year old boy who happens to my brother. So I decided to put it on this blog. :) Enjoy reading! (the link is below)

The Poem

What Got Me Started

I started writing stories a long time ago when I was about 7 years old. I wrote a story about a princess, a witch, a prince, and a happily ever after. A typical little girl's short story. I even illustrated it! My mother still has the whole story tucked away somewhere for safe keeping. I also wrote a story about a muffin and cupcake. Another one about a knight and terrible monsters. And at night, I would tell my siblings stories from my own imagination. I was quite the story teller. Often times one of my younger siblings will ask me, "Morynn, do you remember that story you told about the Easter Bunny and the crazy kids?" I just smile, nod my head and laugh.

Now, some years later, I decided to take up writing stories again. It started with a class at Williamsburg Academy (wacademy.org) that was all about short stories. During the course, we had to write flash fictions, short stories and even poems and ballads. I enjoyed it so much I couldn't stop! So that is what woke up the little 7 year old girl deep down inside me who wrote her own little stories and illustrated them with such care with her special crayons. :)