Cricket Magazine Fiction and Non-Fiction Stories for Children and Young Teens November/December 2015

I started drawing at a young age. My older sister, who is also an illustrator, was always drawing beautiful pictures, which inspired me to draw, too. The things I liked to draw the most were animals and the countryside. My friend from school remembers that I always drew princesses with tall hats! When I got older, I went to art school and tried different techniques. We often had to draw from life and from locations. At college I illustrated my first stories. I was always interested in pictures that tell stories and that you can interpret in different ways. So, what do you think is happening in my photograph above? Is it time to renew? shop.cricketmedia.com 1-800-821-0115…

To: Cricket and Buggies! I may be the first person to say this, but I do not like your mag. I love it! I have two amazing dogs. One is a whippet named Nezumi, and one is a husky/border collie named Casca. I love to read and play video games. I also draw and bike. I am hoping to go mountain biking this year. I just moved, so it is interesting living in a new house. I have been homeschooled my whole life. My favorite books are Eragon, Ender’s Game, and The Ranger’s Apprentice series. I love the Cricket story “The Christmas Day Kitten” by James Herriot (November/December 2013). I read it to my cousin all the time. Aidan Woodbury, age 12 Zeeland, Michigan Hi, Cricket, Your mags are nothing…

LET’S GET THIS LIST STARTED! YOU’RE THE NICEST OF ALL, PUSS, SO YOU ARE THE FIRST ON THE LIST. OF COURSE. (DON’T BOTHER ASKING WHAT I’M GETTING YOU BECAUSE I WON’T SAY!) NEXT ON THE LIST WOULD BE MUFFIN. NICE, RIGHT? A TRIED AND TRUE FRIEND. NICE, NICE, NICE. ALMOST TOO NICE, IF THAT’S POSSIBLE. IT IS POSSIBLE TO BE TOO NICE, COME TO THINK ABOUT IT. SHE’S ALWAYS SO, SO VERY KIND AND THOUGHTFUL. IT CAN MAKE OTHER BUGGIES FEEL KINDA SMALL. AND MEAN. AND SHE NEVER, EVER LOSES HER TEMPER! THAT MAKES ME SO MAD! ISN’T THAT KINDA... NAUGHTY? I THINK IT IS. THERE! MOVING ON. ZOOT IS PERFECTLY NICE, REALLY. HE’S PRETTY GOOD AT THAT CELLO, AND HE’S ALWAYS READY TO SHARE HIS MUSIC WITH ANYBUGGY. NOT…

“CHRIS ,” STEVE SHOUTED from behind, “I’m hungry!” Steve jammed his poles into the crusted snow and pushed his skis along the path. The trail seemed longer than it had last year when Dad was with them. Or was his older brother just trying to show his superiority again? “Another break?” Chris stopped and looked back at his thirteen-year-old brother. “OK. One more trail bar and then let’s get to Gem Lake.” He glanced up the trail and shook his head. “Dad and I would have been heading back by now.” Steve shrugged. “My legs are shorter than yours.” He took off his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes. The late morning sun reflected off the snow, poking through the pines and bare aspen at Rocky Mountain National Park. He grabbed…

THE BACK OF the truck was dark and smelled of dirt and sweat. Olivier leaned forward and peered through the slit in the canvas. Outside, the trees waved their tangled arms in the warm spring breeze. Small birds perched near their nests, calling to their mates. Olivier longed to hear their songs, but the whirring and grinding of the truck’s engine drowned out every sound. They passed through a gate guarded by dogs on leashes and rifle-bearing soldiers.Olivier clutched his knapsack. Would the soldiers take it away? In the towers, a sign said: Stalag 8A. A cold shiver ran up Olivier’s spine. “Raus! Raus! Raus!” German guards hurried the prisoners off the truck into the barracks where they gave out uniforms and mattresses made of straw. It was dark when…

“ WE’LL PICK YOU up at one o’clock,” said my mother. She took my father’s elbow and the two of them hurried away, huddled under a single black umbrella. They left me standing at the entrance of the Spanish Riding School. I had enough Austrian money to buy a ticket, and a little extra for emergencies. I was eleven years old. I didn’t speak German but I wasn’t anxious. I was about to enter the riding hall where the Lipizzaner horses trained and performed. Having read The White Stallions of Lipizza by Marguerite Henry, and every other horse book she’d written, I was in a state of high excitement to be seeing the Lipizzans at last. After getting my ticket, I used some of the emergency money to buy a…