Innholdsfortegnelse for January 2021 i Cricket Magazine Fiction and Non-Fiction Stories for Children and Young Teens

“Try Something New” acrylic and pencil on paper Ingrid Kallick is an artist and writer. She learned folk art from her grandparents, who emigrated from Norway, Bohemia, and Ukraine. Rumor has it that she was abducted by fairies as a child. After returning, she became an artist, with her first publication in American Girl magazine at age thirteen. She wandered the woods near her home with a sketchbook and field guides for plants, birds, and fungi, and later studied sculpture and graphic design at the University of Illinois. She has done art for magazines, murals, books, stage sets, and scientific visualization. Ingrid mainly works in acrylic, but also uses gouache, colored pencil, oil, and digital painting techniques.…

THERE ONCE LIVED a prosperous landholder who had three grown daughters. One day, when the last of the snow lay in little piles beneath the cherry trees, he prepared to set out for the fair. “I am off,” he said, shrugging into his heavy coat and stepping into his fur-lined boots. “Oh, Father,” cried his eldest daughter, who lingered before the fire. “I beg of you, bring me a length of fine cloth from which I might fashion a new gown.” “Aye,” the second eldest chimed in. “I have had nothing new to wear for such a long time.” The eldest nodded. “Even my finest gown grows worn and threadbare.” Their father chuckled as he pulled on his furred cap, for well he knew how these two elder daughters loved…

The frost is here,The fuel is dear,And woods are sear,And fires burn clear,And frost is hereAnd has bitten the heel of the going year. Bite, frost, bite!You roll up away from the lightThe blue woodlouse and the plump dormouse,And the bees are stilled and the flies are killed,And you bite far into the heart of the house,But not into mine. Bite, frost, bite!The woods are all the searer,The fuel is all the dearer,The fires are all the clearer,My spring is all the nearer,You have bitten into the heart of the earth,But not into mine.…

In memory I hold a vision of my grandpa grooming one of his Shetland ponies on his farm in the 1940s. He was expecting a family to visit that evening—a possible sale. “But you know, Millie,” he said to me as, brush in hand, he gently stroked the pony’s sleek, brown hide, “we have to be careful who we sell our ponies to.” “What do you mean, Grandpa?” “Well, some people don’t know how to care for a pony. If you give a pony too much grain, its feet can become deformed. And too much new spring grass can make ponies really sick. In winter, Shetlands stay healthier outdoors, instead of being kept in a barn. A three-sided shed is all the shelter they need. Other than that, they’re fine…

ALEXANDER SELKIRK RACED after the wild goat as it bounded ahead of him up a steep slope. His calloused feet hardly felt the rocky ground. The Scottish sailor grinned, remembering when he’d been too slow to catch a healthy goat. The desperate animal sprinted up a crag, thick with bushes and trees. Selkirk, a hairbreadth behind, reached out to grab his prey. Suddenly there was nothing but air beneath him. Selkirk screamed as he plunged over a precipice, crashing to the ground far below. When he regained consciousness in terrible pain, Selkirk felt something soft beneath him—the dead goat. Falling on it had saved his life. Selkirk moaned. Realizing that he needed to reach shelter if he wanted to survive, he began the long, painful process of dragging himself to…

“JESSALYN, ARE YOU trying to merge with your chair at the cellular level?” Mrs. Lockwood asked me in her low, croaky voice from the front of the classroom. Twenty heads turned in my direction, to witness whatever cellular merging was. My plan to disappear during English period today clearly wasn’t working. Even so, I sank deeper in my seat. “You’re after Esha,” Mrs. Lockwood informed me. Within seconds, Esha was standing at the front of the class with her poster turned backward. She seemed to be looking forward to her presentation, which didn’t surprise me considering how much Esha liked to talk. Me, I’d been dreading this assignment ever since Mrs. Lockwood said we needed to share something no one else in the sixth grade knew about us. I’d never…

GALILEE PAUSED AT the large outcropping of rock lining one wall of the canyon rising before her. Among the sharp cliffs and sparse foliage, there was no sound or sign of movement. No trespassing. It is the law and part of the ongoing treaty. But she had already gone too far and must now finish it. She panted, weary from a half-day’s travel, and tried not to panic. The respect of borders was a key element to maintaining the peace between Centaur and Dwarf. But even territories must be breached when one had to save the life of the herd’s mating goad, especially if she was one’s own mother. Her gaze darted about the landscape in search of Dwarves. None, as yet. Her muffled hoofbeats thumped against sandstone as she…

Alexander Selkirk and the fictional Robinson Crusoe both suffered from loneliness and fear before learning to live comfortably on their islands. Both kept cats and goats, dressed in goatskins, hid in trees, feared the arrival of hostile strangers, and took comfort in reading their Bibles. But Crusoe’s much longer story was probably also influenced by accounts of other castaways. Perhaps the idea for Crusoe’s eventual companion, a Carribean Indian he called Friday, came from the story of a Miskito Indian from Central America called Will, who was marooned for three years on Selkirk’s island in the 1680s. To survive, Will sawed the barrel of his musket into pieces and forged them into harpoons, hooks, and a knife. English surgeon Henry Pitman’s account of his adventures when he and several companions…

In “Forfeit,” Galilee helps resolve a longstanding conflict between Dwarves and Centaurs. And in “The Cat with No Meow,” Jessalyn and Esha resolve a misunderstanding over whose cat is whose. Even good friends don’t always get along—not only Cricket and you-know-who with the black spots, but even George and Tail, who are two ends of the same worm. For this month’s contest, everybuggy agrees that they want to read your best story about resolving, or settling, a conflict. Maybe you will write about brothers or sisters who always disagree, like Max and Sera in “Sisters and Other Life Forms.” Or your conflict might involve a social issue you care about, like improving the treatment of animals or preventing pollution. Perhaps you’ll write about friends who have a silly misunderstanding, like…