This page showcases the work of some of Brainy Alley’s best writers
Small Things Matter
By
Kaavya
Grade 3
It all started on a rosy, light Monday morning. I had sneaked into my brother’s room. I had tiptoed towards the neat and cleaned night stand. I opened up the front drawer to find mechanical pencils….his mechanical pencils.
Every day, I had the routine of stealing two pencils and then heading for school. Finally, after five days, my brother asked, “Did you steal my pencils? Ten, If my calculations are correct.”
I get a good glimpse at him. I take the courage to say “May be?”
My brother cried as if he wanted to be seen. I explained to him that I brought them to my friends. “I will give them back on Monday.”
“Fine!” he said, “But they better be back on Monday. By the way, do you know how expensive these pencils are?”
I had no idea.
Soon enough it was Monday. As soon as I hopped aboard the bus, I thought – small things matter!
The Itsy-Bitsy Spider
By
Srithan
Grade 3
Once upon a time, there was a little spider named Kia. Kia was a great warrior who bravely faced everything he came across. He was known as the most poisonous spider in the land. He would always fight like a furious lion! But he only had one goal. It was to beat his enemy the Brown Recluse.
Then one day he felt extremely frustrated that the Brown Recluse was getting praised more than him, so he grabbed his weapons and armor and headed to fight. When he was going on his path, the Brown Recluse came and pushed him into the forest.
At the time, he was scared for the first time in his life but he recovered his bravery and tried once more again. After that his people made a rhyme. They called it “The Great Black Warrior”. The tune went like this (tune of Itsy Bitsy Spider):
The great Black warrior who walked along his path.
Down came the Brown recluse and pushed him in the woods.
Up came his bravery and made him fight some more
So the great black warrior sprinted once again.
Curiosity Strikes
By
Vyom
Grade 5
“ Just don’t bulge your eyes into the computer screen” Papa always says. Usually, my brother and I play one or two games of basketball. But today, we can’t play basketball because it's raining cats and dogs! My brother, and I just sat there, staring out the window, listening to the rain pattering on the pavement.
“What are we ever going to do, it’s raining, our only hobby is basketball, and we’re not allowed to watch television!” Cliff, my brother groaned.
“Any ideas yet?” I ask after a while.
“ Of course not.” Cliff moans.
“ Any now?” I ask “ Nope” Cliff responds.
Suddenly, an idea struck me. I was curious if it would work.
“ Follow me,” I ordered. I hopped into the garage to gather all the materials - two sticks, two cardboard pieces, scissors, glue, and tape.
“How is that going to help us?” Cliff asked.
“You’ll see.” I told him. We threw on our rain jackets, took the glue and tape, and glue and taped the cardboard and stick together.
Next, I snatched one piece of tinfoil and crumpled it into the best tinfoil ball I could make. I soaked the tinfoil ball with oil.
“ Help me carry this net outside.” I requested.
“Ok.” He agreed. We placed the huge net on the front yard.
“These stick and cardboard pieces are your rackets, this tinfoil ball is your tennis ball, this net is well, your net. Since we live on a hill, we can slide around!” I explained.
“ I see where this is heading.” Cliff understood.“ Let's go!” he exclaimed, as we started backing up.
I jumped in the air, tossed the ball, and hit the ball with all my energy.
WHAP!
The rackets had snapped in half “There go the rackets.”
Slowly, the net started sliding down our hill.
“And the net.” I moaned. “ Back to being bored!” Cliff yelled sarcastically.
Eternity
By
Shravya
Grade 6
I always knew that they were hiding something from me, but I never thought it was that.
“Morgan, come inside for dinner!” my mom called, as I caught my last glimpse of the setting sun, which looked like a blank canvas splattered with dozens and dozens of blues, contrasted with oranges and reds, to make a beautiful masterpiece.
“Ok,” I responded as I made my way up the creaky wooden stairs to the inside of my house. In my house, there are a few rules. The first one is to BE TIDY AND FORMAL. We all have to sit at the big glass table, to eat our sectioned dinner, apples in the left corner, rice covering half the plate, chicken covering one third of the plate and an orange juice cup covering the rest.
One time when I was younger, I asked my mom why everything had to be so clean. She looked at me shockingly and brought me to an Exorcist. Since then, I learned that if you want to be a part of this family, you have to be neat.
“So, since you are older and more responsible, we want to tell you something.” my mom said. Uh-Oh I thought, that is never good. Her glassy skin reflected off the chandelier. I’ve always wondered why she never looks forty-seven, but like she is nineteen.
“You swear on your life that you won't tell anyone?” I nodded.
“We are immortal, and the only way that we can die is if you drinketh the immortal water,” the menacing grins explained it all, as my parents tried to hold me back.
“If thou seeks for the world beneath,
you mustn't let your child go unharmed.
Your kin must drink the water given.
to cast this spell,
be ready to kill a gazelle,” she chanted as her eyes glowed purple.
I was still trying to pry myself free from her burning hands, when all of a sudden, my mom erupted into a lime green dust explosion, blood and guts flying everywhere.
Then a mysterious voice sang,
“I counted to three,
and the potion did not swallow thee.
Now you pay the fee,
of trying to live happily”
I was still getting the blood, nerves, and was that a heart off me, when I realized that I was free.
Who cares about the mess, I thought, when I’m free!
And with that, I went running off, past the spiky electric gate, past Barbara, the suspicious old neighbor, and past the 7-11 that was always shut down.
The farther I ran, the more the cozy feeling inside of me grew.
Exiled
By
Devin
Grade 6
I was walking away, thinking about how terrible the Amtania government was. I couldn’t believe they would exile me for just that. I started to cry, even though I knew I shouldn’t. The wind was abating my tears. As much as I wanted to leave that place, it was my homeland, and I had lived there all my life. I didn’t know anything about the places beyond. Again, the fault of the government, and public school system. I never was good at geography anyways, as it only lasted about two weeks for the classes. That was because they never taught about the places beyond. They only taught about Amtania. It was really annoying hearing about how great Amtania was, and the worst part?
It was true.
Amtania was the main predator. The Apex. Nobody could beat it. Nobody had beaten it. Nobody tried to beat it. This was because the only smart living life was in Amtania. Who would have thought that the “smart life” could exile me for such a dumb reason?
I started to see all the different types of life, as my tears cleared and I saw, which I wish I didn’t, a HUMUNGOUS spider the size of a t-rex, and its fangs were winding, probably my height, but double. I probably broke the world records for how loud a human can physically scream. But then it just vanished. I realized, being in a desert in this heat wasn’t the best situation. I tripped onto the ground, face first. The heat was relentless. I hauled myself up. It had probably only been five minutes, but it felt like five hours of walking across the burning sand. It felt like standing on the sun except worse. Who would have thought that Amtania would be in a desert?
The Missing Treasure
By
Ira
Grade 7
In the busy streets of Old Delhi, amid the noisy traffic and colorful market stalls, there was a small old shop named "Memory Treasures." Managed by the elderly Mr. Sharma, the shop was famous for its collection of special items that carried stories from the past. One special item in Mr. Sharma's possession was a beautiful wooden jewelry box, intricately carved with delicate flower patterns and small gemstones. This family heirloom had been passed down through generations. Deepika, a young woman from the neighborhood, had always been fascinated by the stories about the jewelry box. She often visited Mr. Sharma's shop, admiring its beauty and imagining the tales it held. As Deepika looked at the beautiful jewelry box, its detailed carvings captivated her, filling her with awe. She caught a whiff of the old wood, and her fingers tingled with excitement, eager to touch its smooth surface and explore the sparkling gemstones that held stories from the past. However, one day, disaster struck when the jewelry box disappeared.
The news of the jewelry box's disappearance danced through the neighborhood like a haunting melody, weaving notes of mystery and sorrow.
Mr. Sharma was heartbroken, tears filling his eyes as he talked about the sentimental value the box held for his family. As Mr. Sharma sat among the old items in his shop, he looked sadly at the empty space where the jewelry box used to be. The dim light from the dusty windows added to his somber mood. When Deepika came the next day, Mr. Sharma filled her in on the news. Saddened, she offered to help with the search.
"Deepika, my dear, thank you for coming," Mr. Sharma said with a gentle smile, his voice filled with warmth and gratitude. "I can't express how much your help means to me."
"It's no trouble at all, Mr. Sharma," Deepika replied, "I couldn't bear to see you so upset over the missing jewelry box. We'll find it, I promise." Mr. Sharma nodded, his eyes reflecting a mixture of hope and sadness.
"You're a kind soul, Deepika, always thinking of others before yourself. It's a rare quality these days, and I'm truly grateful to have you by my side."
With determination guiding her, Deepika set out to find the missing jewelry box. As Deepika weaved through the crowded market, she watched vendors multitask between customers, desperate for business. As Deepika walked through the busy streets of Old Delhi, she felt like a nomad, moving through the winding paths in search of the missing jewelry box. But as days passed, her search had no results, and she started to lose hope. Deepika took a deep breath, her mind swirling with doubts and fears.
"I've never faced a challenge like this before. Can I really do it? Can I find the jewelry box and bring back happiness to Mr. Sharma?" Yet, despite her uncertainty, a newfound determination flickered within her, driving her to push forward and face whatever obstacles lay ahead.
"I may not know what will happen, but I won't give up. I'll find that jewelry box and make things right." But hours passed, and she had no luck. Before she was about to give up, she reminded herself, “Where there is a will there's a way” and kept going.
As Deepika neared the edges of the city, where children played under the bright sun, the sudden change from the busy streets of Old Delhi to the peaceful outskirts created a contrast, making her feel like she had entered a new world full of surprises and hope.
Suddenly, among the group was a girl holding the missing jewelry box tightly. As Deepika stumbled upon the missing jewelry box in the hands of a young girl, her heart leaped in sudden relief, tears welled in her eyes, mirroring the unexpected surge of emotion that swept through her. Relieved and surprised, Deepika approached the child and explained the importance of the heirloom. Moved by Deepika's story, the girl tearfully admitted to finding the jewelry box abandoned in an alley. After hearing the story behind the precious object, she realized the mistake she had made and returned it willingly. Filled with gratitude, Deepika rushed back to Mr. Sharma's shop, the jewelry box safely in her hands. As she handed it over to its owner, tears of joy filled the old man's eyes. He hugged Deepika, “Thank you for bringing back a piece of my family's history.” he cried. In the end, the once-lost jewelry box found its way home, reminding everyone of the power of kindness in the heart of Old Delhi.