Artist Spotlight

An interview series designed to highlight the creativity, drive, and skill of the amazing students at Denver Writes, “Artist Spotlight” poses questions about writing and the writing life to authors age 8-15 and includes an excerpt from the author’s poem, story, play, comic, or essay—created in our studio at Back Space. Enjoy reading about our recent spotlighted artists!

Artist Spotlight with Tessa Hansen


Tessa is a 14-year-old writer who attended the October 2014 “Scary Stories” Workshop. During the workshop, she authored the short story “The Shadow Behind the Couch.” 

DW: What was the inspiration behind your story “The Shadow Behind the Couch”?

TH: I read a lot of books with kind of violent plots, like The Hunger Games, Divergent, and others. A lot of my story ideas come from the books that I read, and I am constantly coming up with new story ideas. When I knew that I was going to the scary stories workshop, I suddenly just came up with this idea of a person’s shadow killing them. I thought it was an amazing idea, so I used it!

DW: How did Denver Writes help you write this story?

TH: The people at Denver Writes are great writers, and when I explained to them my idea, they all loved it and helped me proofread it and make even small details in it major to the whole plot, even though the story was short. It’s great to have people who know what they are talking about to give input on your writing.

DW: What do you love about writing?

TH: There are a lot of things that I love about writing. One of the biggest things that I love about writing though is that you can write about anything, and no one can tell you not to. If I want to write about how much someone makes me mad, or happy, or something that surprises me, or a fan fiction, I can do that. Writing lets your imagination flow freely, and it doesn’t set any boundaries on your ideas. No matter what you want to write, you just put it down on your paper. I want to be an author when I grow up, if that helps you see how much I really love writing.

DW: Which books or authors are you reading right now?

TH: As I said in the first question, I am pretty obsessed with The Hunger Games trilogy by Suzanne Collins and the Divergent trilogy by Veronica Roth. I also love John Green books, especially The Fault in our Stars. I cried pretty hard when I read that book. I have also read The Girl of Fire and Thorns trilogy by Rae Carson, which isn’t a very popular series, but I think it should be. I also like the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling. I mostly read teen fiction books.


DW: What are your future writing goals?

TH: I really want to be an author when I grow up, and I want to write teen fiction books or fictional stories in general. I would like to write this genre because that is what I am most interested in currently. I am not certain that this is what I will want to do when I am of the age to get a job, but right now I’m pretty set on writing novels. I just need to be ready for people to read my stories more, because I usually don’t let many people read my stories besides my really good friends and my sister, occasionally.

Click here and fast forward to 22:20 to here Tessa read her story, “The Shadow Behind the Couch”!  


Artist Spotlight with Elyse Hansen


Elyse is an 11-year-old writer who attended the August 2014 Summer Camp, “Adventure Tales and Survival Stories.” During the weeklong camp, she authored the short story “Crashing.”

DW: What was the inspiration behind your story “Crashing”?

EH: Well, I think I have always dreamed of living on an island like Hawaii and all the fun I would have, so then I thought maybe I could have my character be trapped on a paradise like Hawaii and learn to enjoy it. The inspiration of a plane crash came to me when I started writing and I started over many times. I just thought that maybe I could convince a few people that survival could be a mighty good adventure!

DW: How did Denver Writes help you write this story?

EH: I think that they helped me develop my character and my setting. They had me do a lot of planning, which I wasn’t too exited about, but it definitely worked out fine. Mainly though, they were there to guide me through my piece of writing. I’ve always thought that Denver Writes was a place you can go to sharpen and broaden your mind and vocabulary. Also if you need help you can always just borrow a friend’s or a volunteer’s mind for a while and get some great and new ideas.

DW: What do you love about writing?

EH: I love that you can just pour your heart and soul into your writing. It doesn’t matter if it doesn’t make it all the way to being published (if that) but that you enjoy it. I feel that if you need a place to escape for a while than just write a poem or a story of just write something and you’ll feel relaxed.

DW: Which books or authors are you reading right now?

EH: That is a tough question. I’ve been so busy with school… Well, I just finished reading a book called Freak The Mighty. I loved that book—it was about a boy named Freak whose legs didn’t work and a boy named Max who was like six feet tall and in seventh grade. Freak and Max meet and they become friends. They go on many adventures and Freak, who is incredibly smart, rides on Max’s shoulders and Max is his legs and Freak is Max’s brain. Together they become Freak the Mighty.

DW: What are your future writing goals?

EH: Well, I’m currently attending Denver School of the Arts (DSA) as a theatre major. I do hope someday, however, to publish a book of children’s stories. This ambition started in kindergarten when I won the Young Authors contest out of my whole school (which went through the sixth grade). I thought it was fun, but now I see it as an opportunity to do more.

Excerpt from “Crashing” by Elyse Hansen

Chapter One


I laugh, a nervous one; as I wave, the laugh, I soon notice, turns into a sob, as one tear after another splashes onto my pet dog, Mocha, a velvet-brown soft Chihuahua mix. My waving is directed at my Poppa, a young man, graying, but otherwise perfect. The line for the plane moves forward and Mocha starts to whine. I am going away forever, where? I don’t know. The dad, well, I might not see him again, for he, for he…

“Lillian Page,” says a voice in my ear. I jump. The speaker is a girl my age, a girl I know, my best friend from pre-school. I wipe away my tears and give her a hug. I glance over my shoulder at my father; he is walking away.

“No,” I scream. He turns and gives me a little smile, and he walks away. He is going to fight in the war, and he is sending me away, to where? I don’t know. My friend Cassity pats me on the back, and points at another man. He walks over.

“Lilly, this is my dad. He’s going away and sending me,” she puffs out her chest, “to my auntie’s house. She lives in a mansion. I can’t wait!”

“Oh,” I say.

“Why are you flying away?” she asks.

“My dad is going away too.” I don’t know why I don’t tell her the whole truth. It’s like saying the words aloud makes them true. I don’t want them to come true. We board the plane and I’m suddenly excited, where will I go when I’m away? Maybe to relatives, like Cassity, or maybe rent a house, I am eighteen after all, maybe I can get a job when I’m older. My stomach twists at the idea of me getting a job somewhere else other than home. As I take my seat, I think of my long lost mother, and then don’t. I might cry again if I do. Instead I lift my zebra-patterned suitcase up into the rack and stuff my tote bag up with it.

CRACKLE! I jump, but it was only the flight attendant coming over the loudspeaker.

“Ladies and gentlemen, prepare for takeoff.” My seat is vibrating as we reach the runway. I glance outside of my window and I can almost see the outline of a young man. He has his back to me and is walking to a car, getting in, and pulling away. I scrunch my knees up and bury my face in them, all the way up into the air.


Chapter Two


            “Ladies and gentlemen, we will be landing in twenty minutes.” The clear voice of the flight attendant comes over the loudspeaker again. I reach up for my tote bag until my wandering fingers find a snack bag full of salted peanuts. I pull them out and open them. The peanuts are salted, which naturally makes me thirsty. I pull a cold bottle of water from the stash in my bag, and drink, then choke as the flight attendant spoke again. This time her voice is crisp and it is clear something is wrong.

“May I have your attention please, the right wing has been damaged, please brace yourselves. We are going to crash.” Panic is my only weakness, so naturally I am hyperventilating, sweating and crushing my peanuts almost to peanut butter. Crashing? Crashing? Crashing? The words echo around the plane.

“Ok, relax,” I tell myself. My suitcase is only one and a half feet tall and one foot across and only carries clothes for four days, but luckily there is a variety to cool off or warm up. My tote bag is stuffed with food for the flight, but I haven’t eaten anything except the peanuts and the water. I peer out of the window and see a thick forest of palm trees. Then crunch-crunch, scrape, bang, and the plane lands on the muddy bank of a small island.


Artist Spotlight with Amanda Gin


Amanda is a 10-year-old writer who attended the June 2014 Summer Camp, “Adventure Tales and Survival Stories.” During the weeklong camp, she authored the short story “When the Coyote Howls.”

DW: What was the inspiration behind your story “When the Coyote Howls”?

AG: I just wanted to write about how life was back then, and the struggles in life, such as starvation and thirst.

DW: How did Denver Writes help you write this story?

 AG: At first, I didn’t know much about the Native American culture. Denver Writes helped me by taking me to all sorts of places with information on the Native American culture and society.

DW: What do you love about writing?

AG: Technically, I love everything about writing! My favorite part about writing is expressing my ideas, thoughts, and perspectives using words! I truly believe that people can learn a lot from reading other people’s writing, even if it’s fiction.

DW: Which books or authors are you reading right now?

AG: I’m actually reading a lot of books right now. A couple of recent books include: Pandora series by Carolyn Hennesy, WhoDunit mysteries books, and The Homework Machine by Dan Gutman.

DW: What are your future writing goals?

AG: The one goal I’ve been longing to achieve is getting a book published! I want to share my ideas and thoughts with the rest of the world.

Excerpt from “When the Coyote Howls” by Amanda Gin

Chapter One


I was the last of my family, the ancient ones who had, except for me, all died in the Great Coyote War. The Great Coyote War started when the head of the coyotes got shot down by one of the obnoxious hunters who always bragged about the animal skins he brought back. The coyote pack started to sneak into teepees at night and steal the well-hunted deer and buffalo skins. That was only the beginning. Sadly, the entire pack was killed and the war ended.

I was 18 years old and had been raised by Smooth Dove, the kind medicine woman. Smooth Dove had sewn me a whole wardrobe of moccasins and cloaks out of animal skins. “It is the best I can do for your family who sacrificed themselves for our village,” her welcoming voice had told me. “If they were alive, they would thank you greatly,” I had said back to her.

Now I was alone. A great illness had overcome Smooth Dove and she did not have the cure. That fateful day, I had stayed all night, crying over Smooth Dove’s still and lifeless body. It was only when the morning water ceremony began, I was forced to leave my foster mother’s side.

And over the course of a few years, I spent the nights threading beads onto cornhusk pouches and making prayer fans for the Chief. I sometimes hummed to myself and once in a while, I’d present a homemade pouch with a beaded design to some of the village children. My life was a lonely, quiet one.

That is, until Alex came along.


Chapter Two


I had just finished a cornhusk pouch when a tiny girl ran in, laughing happily. Moments later, a teenage boy burst in. I sized him up. He looked about 16 years old and carried a rifle and a tattered leather book in a long fur sack on his back. He scooped up the little girl and stared at me. “Very sorry ma’am. I did not intend any trouble here,” he said, blushing.

“That’s alright. No harm done,” I replied.

“Alright then,” he said, turning to exit.

“Wait!” I found myself shouting. The boy whipped around, his eyebrows raised. “Is there a problem?” He asked me. My gaze drifted to the ground. “Um, I was just wondering what your name is,” I said quietly.

“I’m Alex, my Native American name is Shining Star.”

“I’m Jordyn. I don’t have a Native American name.”

Alex squinted at me. “I haven’t seen you around,” he said.

“Well, I like to keep to myself sometimes,” I said, defending myself. Alex changed the subject.

“Who are your parents?”

“Well, my real parents died in the Great Coyote War and my foster mother died a few years back.”

Alex looked down. “So…you live all by yourself?” he finally asked.

I nodded. A loud voice interrupted us. “Alex! Where are you and your sister?” Alex grinned. “I’ve got to go. See you around!” With that, he dashed off with the little girl in his arms.

That night, I was dying feathers for a prayer fan when somebody ran in. I shrieked. When I realized that it was Alex, I calmed down. “Sorry,” I told him. Alex sat on the ground next to me. “Just came to give you company. Must be lonely, these nights?”

I shrugged. He took out a small bag and reached inside. He pulled something folded out and handed it to me. “I got it from one of the elders,” he explained. I carefully unfolded it. It was a beaded buckskin dress! I was speechless. “For me?” I managed to say. “Yeah,” he said.

“Thanks.” I hugged him. He stood up. “Well, I’ve got to run now. Maybe I’ll see you around.”


Then Alex vanished into the inky black night, leaving me staring into the dark, wishing I had a family who could comfort me during these silent cold nights.


Artist Spotlight with Clary Reichley



Clary is a ten-year-old writer who attended the June 2014 Summer Camp, “Adventure Tales and Survival Stories.”During the weeklong camp, she authored the short story “The Dark Side of the Light.”


DW: What was the inspiration behind your story “The Dark Side of the Light”?


CR:The inspiration for my story “The Dark Side of the Light” came from my love for tigers (a), my love for adventure and good always defeating evil (b), and my love for fantasy writing (c) — all put together in one.


DW: How did Denver Writes help you write this story?


CR: Denver Writes helped be sculpt this story by providing fun and interesting fieldtrips around Denver, ranging from The Museum of Miniatures, Toys, and Dolls to the Denver Public Library. Denver Writes volunteers are another inspiration. The volunteers range from people who just moved to Denver to native Coloradoans. I feel all the writing-kind of people are an inspiration for me to put beautiful words onto paper.


DW: What do you love about writing?


CR: I love writing because you can create so many different things that in your world might not seem possible. But in your story, people can fly and walk on water and that is considered normal. I love the fantasy involved in writing a tremendous story.


DW: Which books or authors are you reading right now?


CR: I just finished the book The Girl Who Could Fly by Victoria Forester, which was about a girl who had the extraordinary ability to fly. It was a very good book that I would recommend.


DW: What are your future writing goals?


CR: One future writing goal is to participate in NaNoWriMo, National Novel Writing Month, in November, which challenges young students and educators to write a novel in a month. I have done it in recent years and enjoyed it. My novel title this year is going to be called, A-P-E.



Excerpt from “The Dark Side of the Light” by Clary Reichley




I was born in the year 1815, born to a very rich and well-known family. I have three older brothers Henry, Daniel, and William. My name is Fiona, and I am almost 15 years old and the youngest in the family. Since I have three older brothers they have taught me many manly things; archery, riding, and hunting.

I always enjoy going to India. We (meaning all my brothers and I) always went hunting. Our favorite sport was the tiger. I grew to care for the tigers and one day I came across the Indian myth, the mystical white tiger. This caught my attention and started to make me wonder about things that never crossed my mind before.


I told my brothers of the findings, and they (being humble enough) decided to trap it. But I was put under the spell as sailors are under a sirens’ spell. I wanted nothing but to see the tiger wild and free. This tiger started my destiny. I ran away that night to ponder about life, about animals, and about the invisible rope that held me and the tiger latched together.


Chapter 1


Whenever father has “special” guests we have to act prim and proper. This is one thing my brothers and I are really bad at. Seeing the prime minister following my father makes my skin crawl; I am the sister who hates to stay clean. My brothers are the same way. In a heartbeat our maid, Patricia, is knocking on my bedroom door.


As I mentioned before my parents are very rich and well known, my mother is Baroness Pearl and my beloved father has the job of merchandise. He sells furs, velvet, and leather—all very expensive things—and he made a fortune doing it. Even with our riches, he refuses to buy a huge house that is on the market these days.


Again our maid knocks on the door. I am knocked out of my daydream and put back into the real world. I look around my room is a MESS; I was even told to organize it that morning. Father is going to be upset. Patricia knocks on my door one last time, “FIONA!” I let her in and her appearance has not changed. She is still the plump little witch that lives in the guest cottage


She shuffles into my room and lays out my blue silk dress from India. It is my favorite and she knows it. It makes me smile just seeing its perfection. As she gets me all gussied up, I see out of the corner of my eye, a flicker. A red flicker of something familiar. Fire. Outside the window I see not normal fire, but a black red fire of darkness. In unison, Patricia and I gasp in horror.


Artist Spotlight with Diego Torres-Carrión


Diego is an nine-year-old writer who attended the August 2014 Summer Camp, “Adventure Tales and Survival Stories.”During the weeklong camp, he authored the short story “Hunt of the Monsters.”


DW: What was the inspiration behind your story “Hunt of the Monsters”?


DTC:The Monsters and Legends book in the Denver Writes library inspired me, because it gave me the idea of the creatures that Bob (the main character in my story), hunts.


DW: How did Denver Writes help you write this story?


DTC: They helped me by typing and recording my story. They gave me more ideas like adding more monsters and a map.


DW: What do you love about writing?


DTC: I love the ideas writing gives you; you can imagine anything you want with pencil and paper. You express your feelings; you can contact others like when you use letters.


DW: Which books or authors are you reading right now?


DTC: I’m reading J.K. Rowlings, Quidditch Throughout the Ages and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. I’m also reading The Dalton Cousins (a Lucky Luke adventure).


DW: What are your future writing goals?


DTC: My future writing goals are to write with better spelling, give better explanations, and to add more details. I would like to write on historic places, like the history of the Roman Empire.




“Hunt of the Monsters” by Diego Torres-Carrión





            George was a smart boy who loved legends. When he was 20 years old, he decided he would look for two of them. They were called Ogopogo and Ninsyo. They were creatures of the sea. If he found them, he would take them and return them to the zoo. First, he would go look for Ogopogo. He would look in Fwgoog first. After five weeks of looking, he found a picture of one. It had a body of a monkey and the tail of a fish.




            He bought a submarine to find it. After five weeks, he had dived at least 17 times and tested 40 times. He searched and searched, but sadly he found nothing. It was time for a different plan of attack.




            Then when he was home, he got 13 letters from Fred.  Fred is George’s cousin who knows he has a fascination with monsters. Each letter had a new monster.  The monsters were Bigfoot, gremlins, the axe-handle-hound, the flitterbick, the gillygaloo, the pinnacle goose, the goofang, the splintercat, the cactus cat, the hoopsnake, the upland trout, the sea-pig, and the gulon.




            One day he found out that someone was looking for his secret. The secret was that his mother was a Snake. But how? He went to the supermarket. There was a monster with blood all over his feet. He had a snake-like head, elephant body, and a crocodile tail.

“I shall find your secret,” said Mokele, George’s enemy, and vanished.




One day when he was walking down the beach, one of George’s crew members came running and said, “We found a Ninsyo! We found a Ninsyo!”




After finding the nine lumberjacks, he went looking for Bigfoot. After 17 weeks they found Bigfoot and a yeti. He got lots of papers and gave it to one of his co-workers to finish all of them. It had been about a year since they had started, and they had two more encounters with Mokele. After that he had one more creature left, the gremlin. With a fake plane, he caught three.




            After facing Mokele in his office and making him retreat with a paper cannon, he went to the zoo and gave them the monsters, and left for home and had a giant party with his friends.


The End.


Artist Spotlight with Julian Tittmann


Julian is an eight-year-old writer who attended the June 2014 Summer Camp, “Adventure Tales and Survival Stories.”During the weeklong camp, he authored the short story “COMPUTERIZED.”


DW: What was the inspiration behind your story COMPUTERIZED?


JT: That we use computers so much today and how they kind of control some of us.


DW: How did Denver Writes help you write this story?


JT: They gave me good tools and a good place to write.


DW: What do you love about writing?


JT: It has a different meaning to everyone and you can do anything with it.


DW: Which books or authors are you reading right now?


JT: I am reading the books Skulduggery Pleasant by Derek Landy, Wonderstuck by Brian Selznick, and The Blue Sword by Robin McKinley.


DW: What are your future writing goals?


JT: I would like to write a trilogy or a series.



Excerpt from “COMPUTERIZED” by Julian Tittmann


Chapter 1


It was a Sunday afternoon, the only time I get to read. I was sitting by the Great Falls reading Citren Con, my favorite book. Oh! I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Finn Sparkalak. I’m 30 years old, and I’m a farmer. I was supposed to be a miner and all my friends were made in the mine, but someone set the dissolvers wrong and something fell on my head. I was out for a week, and when I woke up I had a sudden obsession with farming. After this I’ll go to my underground home and put away my book, after that I’ll plow the fields. Then I’ll go to my mother’s and have dinner. I’ll also comfort her about father.

He disappeared a long time ago, but mother has still not gotten over it. The last time I saw him was the day before he disappeared. He was pouring a small vile of disgusting liquid on his pasta. He saw me when he had poured half the vile on the food. He chucked the vile at me and slammed the door behind him. The bottle hit my left ear. The liquid burned the inside of my ear, so I can only hear with my right ear. That night at dinner father didn’t talk, he just ate his pasta even faster then I could. I love pasta! The next morning he was missing.

After mother’s I’ll go to brother’s and give him tips for his farm. He also said he had something for me.   


Chapter 2


Traveling through the land is very easy. The plains in between the falls and my farm are pretty flat. I ran quickly over the plains. I got to my farm and slowed down. I climbed the ladder into the entrance of my house. I hung my hat on a handmade hook. A small feathery creature waddled up to me and said “awald.”

“Hi Arthur,” I said. I then walked into the living room. My velvet couch and armchair waited expectedly. I went into the kitchen, sorry forgot to tell you what Arthur is. Arthur is my pet quagerluck (half quail, half duck). Now, as I was saying, I went into the kitchen. Then I went into the dinning room, then to the library. I placed the book on a shelf and hurried out of the house.

I went into the old barn. Its red paint was peeling. I got the plow out of the barn. I plowed the fields of wheat and thought about what my brother was going to get me, I expected something important. I finished and put away the plow.

I started to travel through the country. I went over plains and across lakes and rivers. I got to my mother’s, and she was making pasta. I talked to my sister for a while, and then had dinner. After a delicious dinner of pasta, I set out for my brother. My brother, Jake, opened the door before I could knock, which resulted in me falling on him.

“Hello,” said Jake. I got off of him and closed the door. Later, Jake and I were sitting on the couch discussing his problems.

“Recently my kex have been exploding” stated Jake.

“What have you been feeding them?” I asked.

“Hay,” Jake responded.

“Feed them kex feed instead,” I replied.

“Okay, time for the present,” said Jake.

He gave me a heavy and long parcel. I opened it and gaped at what it was. It was a strong heavy club. That’s when it happened.


Chapter 3


Jake’s quagerluck’s eyes turned green. They seemed to blaze with an eternal fire. Its webbed feet grew long thick claws. It attacked. I swung at it with my club. It dodged, and it flew towards my head. I heard a loud crash as a woman was thrown through the window.

“RAWHH” she yelled, as a bullgot stabbed her in the leg.

I ran outside, the streets were total chaos. Animals swarmed everywhere. The most trouble was being caused by a vivovivov. Then I saw him, riding on the back of a siglotzot was Person. He swooped down on me and nearly cut my head off. I jumped on to his siglozot and swung on him. He blocked it with his sword, and punched me in the face. Warm blood tricked down my face, and everything went black.                         


Artist Spotlight with Molly Blevins


Molly is a 10-year-old writer who attended the June 2014 Summer Camp, “Adventure Tales and Survival Stories.”During the weeklong camp, she authored the short story “CAKE.”

DW: What was the inspiration behind your story CAKE?


MB: My inspiration was a saying, actually. “You have to earn trust.” So I kind of weaved that saying into my story. Uncle Tilmisto did not earn the trust of the king or the prince.


DW: How did Denver Writes help you write this story?


MB: They were VERY EXTREMELY helpful with vocabulary, and when you didn’t know what to say next they helped you right away and were very, very patient.


DW: What do you love about writing?


MB: You can do absolutely whatever you want—it’s like being a play director only minus the yelling and stubborn actors. You’re the boss of everything!!!


DW: Which books or authors are you reading right now?


MB: I’m reading… Pseudonymous Bosch’s Secret Series for the second time,

Wonderstruck by Brian Selznick for the second time, and True Colors by Natalie Kinsey-Warnock.


DW: What are your future writing goals?


MB: My future writing goals are to write more scary stories and get better at fantasy writing.


Excerpt from “CAKE” by Molly Blevins




“And…. Begin!” announced the king of kings, Bastel. “Shall thee be king of a hopeful heart,” read prince Jarblead as he continued with his 10 page speech. On the bleachers, sat a fair maiden with a moon on her forehead and eyes that shimmered with every word.

“I am proud to announce prince Jarblead now as King Jarblead.”


Chapter 1: Confused


“I swear he has hated me ever since,” King Jarblead finished, shrugging.

“Uncle Tilmisto? He could never hate you,” I said scrunching up my nose.

“Kings don’t lie so why would I have told you that story?” King Jarblead asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Urggh,” I mumbled.

“Ahhh, no mumbling to me. Straighten your back and chin up!” lectured King Jarblead.

“You’re right, father,” I said sulkily.

As I left my father’s meeting room, I could not help but wonder, how could Uncle Tilmisto hate anyone? His loving smile could outshine the stars. Being a chef of a famous restaurant, Uncle Tilmisto always brought cakes or pasta to dinner. And King Jarblead let him stay in the cottage for all of the relatives that wanted to live with us.


Chapter 2: His Past


I was three years old when the Romans attacked the town of Salborn and conquered a tiny part of it. My mother had saved me by sliding in front of an arrow aimed directly at me. It hit her left rib and it’s still there in a crystal box by the king’s memory room. All I was left with was a long, skinny scar from when the arrow skid across my leg and into my mother’s rib. King Jarblead was attacked and broke three bones in his body, his rib, arm, and foot. He was put in a velvet puffy armchair and was instructed not to move. I sat next to him, telling him stories of brave kings and knights.


Chapter 3: Goodbye


“And I present to you…” Uncle Tilmisto shouted gleefully, “My Masterpiece.” He lifted the top of the platter, revealing a cake… a cake with blinding pink frosting smothering it.

“Sorry Uncle Tilmisto, I don’t eat cake… in fact, I don’t eat sugar… until Friday,” I said, frowning. King Jarblead, on the other hand, dove in and already finished one slice and was going on to his second when suddenly the face hit the plate and his body went limp.

The sudden realization that my dad had just died.


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