Please give a warm welcome to a student of mine, Fiona. Fiona has taken my writing workshops for several years now. She is a gifted writer, who has a talent for descriptive word choice, emotion-filled stories and the very important “showing, not telling” technique. Enjoy this short story and please leave an encouraging comment for this young author! (For details on my workshops, click HERE.)
Crushing Candies
By: Fiona, 6th grader
I stepped into my room, dropped my backpack, and flung myself into my desk chair.
“Can you believe it Paisley? Summer already!” I listened to her go on and on about how amazing her boyfriend is.
“Got to go Paisley, I’m late for work!” I hung up the phone and dug for my apron in the hamper.
My job was manning the cash register for our candy shop, Millers Candy. My dad worked in the office paying overdue bills and making orders for Three Musketeers, Butterfingers, and a wide variety of hard candies. In the kitchen is where toffee, chocolate, and other good stuff were made.
A mom and a little girl walked to the mini fridge covering the peeling yellow paint. The mom took a little paper bag to fill with ten-cent candies, and the little girl asked for almond bark. She looked like the perfect girl to be my little sister that I wanted.
Right then, a man in a black suit walked through the doors. I recognized him from the coffee shop. His name was Mr. Johnson.
“Hi, Mr. Johnson! Would you like a toffee sample?” I said with a cheesy grin.
Mr. Johnson’s Bistro coffee shop has been a success since it opened. My mom walked in wearing her apron covered with flour. She greeted Mr. Johnson.
“So Kerri,” he began referring to my mom. “Your candy shop has been getting in the way with my business.” He said with a fake smile.
“Hmmm… and how so?” my mom said with her hands on her hips.
“With your intimidating sweets around my sales are going down.” He replied.
“Intimidating?” my dad said walking out from his office with a raised eyebrow.
“So what you’re saying is no other stores in Red Oak have a problem with our sweets but you do?” I butted in.
“No, what I’m offering is a large amount of money to shut you down.” He said with his head up tall.
“We’re going to have to ask you to leave Mr. Johnson and have fun getting us out.” My mom said.
At five o’clock I closed shop and swept the floor to go eat dinner. When I was deep into my steak, I reached for my phone in my pocket, but it wasn’t there.
“Mom can I go get my phone from down stairs?” I asked. She handed me the keys.
I headed toward the stairs and went down. When I reached the shop I couldn’t believe my eyes. Little rats lay in the ten-cent candy baskets and in the cotton candy loft. Their red eyes were staring at me and their rubbery pink tails twitched.
“MOM!!!” I shouted. She came running down the stairs with a first aid kit and fire extinguisher. Her over protectiveness was shining like a sun.
“Rats” my dad yelled and ran down the stairs. He came back down with floral garden gloves and a lidded bucket. He collected each one.
My mom called the Health Department from the wall phone in the kitchen. I could tell she was freaking out a little bit or maybe a lot.
I took out my phone from the cabinet next to the register to call Paisley. But there was no answer. I went upstairs to my room and I could see the Health Department van in the driveway. Four men came out in blue disinfectant suits.
I saw a little girl with her mom walking down the sidewalk. I could imagine her being my little sister. She could sweep the floor and pass out samples. I suddenly got a text from Paisley. It read: hey, with Josh and can’t come.” I sighed of loneliness. No siblings, no friends, no boyfriend.
Life is just great!
It’s ten p.m. and the men are still here. A familiar voice called my name. Paisley was standing in our kitchen. She knew we never locked the doors.
“Can I sleep over” she asked.
“Sure whatever” I replied moaning.
“Claire, come with me.” Paisley said motioning towards the hallway.
I grabbed my umbrella and walked to the door out of the apartment complex. Paisley stopped in front of the store. She told me to look at the door sign.
Closed by the Health Department
Until Further Notice
I nearly fell down on the wet sidewalk. It was like the sign said DEATH TRAP! NEVER SET FOOT IN THIS AREA!
“Mr. Johnson did it! He put the rats here!” I cried to Paisley. Soon my parents walked outside.
“Claire, the test will be in by Tuesday to narrow the search down.” my mom whispered.
“Search?” I asked to my mom. 
“Yes, our store is perfectly clean, so it was a scam.” dad replied.
Cool relief filled my body.
“Well your father and I are going out to celebrate!” my mom said.
“Celebrate what?” I asked.
“The adoption of your baby sister!” My mom said.
I started to jump up and down. Paisley and I grabbed some toffee and went to my room.
“Maybe she’s Laura’s age?” Paisley wondered. Laura was her sister.
I sat on the store steps jotting down names for my sister. My favorite was Fallene. Tuesday was here. FINALLY! I thought to myself as the same truck pulled up. I brought the men to the living room. About to make them coffee, I noticed their Java World cups in their hands. That was Mr. Johnson shop.
They said that the man worked with coffee. (Mr. Johnson) and he had brown hair (Mr. Johnson!)
“MR. JOHNSON!” I blurted out and was sent to my room.
After many hours with the police, my mom finally came in and said that Mr. Johnson was on his way to jail.
“Really?” I shouted “I can’t believe it!” I said jumping up and down.
I called Paisley to tell her everything. She was awestruck.
1 Year Later
I waited for hours tapping my toes and wringing my hands. My parents walked in the doorway with a 14 month old baby in my mom’s arms. I ran to the sleepy child.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” my dad said loud enough to wake the baby up.
“She’s more than I ever wanted” I whispered.
Everything was great and getting better.
The End
BIO: Hi, my name is Fiona and I have been taking classes with Mary Jo since I was in second grade. I am in sixth grade and writing is one of my many hobbies. I love writing fantasy stories and short novels.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
* How would you like to take a writing workshop with me? Send me an email for details! mjcriter at comcast dot net
The need to be understood. Yep, isn’t this why we pick up the pen in the first place? We want to share our thoughts on life and emotions and feel the connection with the world. We want others to say “yeah, I get you, I totally feel that way, too.”
Live Writing: Breathing Life into Your Words
Here we go again…
Writers Inspired 