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I wrote the following story this morning after a fun discussion the we all had a few days ago about where all of the lost hats and mittens go. Debra came up with the idea. Silvia came up with the title. I envision it taking place in a city, with the house that is mentioned being a brownstone. If anyone wants to illustrate it or has editorial comments, I would love the feedback.
The Home Hat Place
Mom told me to wear a hat today.
“Nooo!” I shouted.
But she made me put it on anyway.
On my way to school, my hat fell off my head.
And then again.
And then again.
So I followed it.
Around the corner
And down the street
And across town.
Until it went into the (basement) window of a house.
I very politely knocked on the door.
And while I was waiting, another hat went through the window
And another
And another
A very nice woman opened the door.
“You must be missing your hat,” she said.
“Yes,” I answered.
“Was it your favorite hat?”
“Yes.”
“Do you really miss it?”
“Yes.”
“Then you’d better come in.”
She led me through the hall
And down the stairs,
and opened a door into a big room.
It was full of hats and mittens.
They were jumping and playing and dancing.
“How do I find my hat?” I asked.
“You call it.”
I tried, and barely a whisper came out of my mouth…
I’d never called my hat before. I wasn’t even sure what it’s name was.
“Try closing your eyes and thinking of all the cold days that your hat kept you warm,” she suggested.
So I did.
I thought of the time I went sledding and my hat got all snowy.
I thought of the cold, cold, cold day that I walked the dog.
I thought of the time I helped shovel out the car and how warm my head was.
And when I opened my eyes to call my hat – there it was in front of me!
“Don’t forget about me again,” it whispered as I put it back on my head.
The woman smiled as she led me back up the stairs and out the door.
“It’s so nice to see a happy hat,” she said as she shut the door.
I walked down the stairs and turned to look back at the house
And it was gone.
“You’ll find it again if you need it,” whispered my hat.
I walked home to tell my mom, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get my hat to speak again.
(c) Askablog 2008
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2 comments:
Wonderful, sweet story, Aaron. You should put that thing together and send it to a publisher. Be careful someone doesn't get their hands on it out there in cyberspace. I think Emily knows how the whole story submission process goes.
The other possibility is to send it to a kids magazine like Cricket or Ladybug?? I don't know exactly how that works either, but look online.
Kelly
This reminds me of a story joke that a standup comedian used to tell about how we lose socks in the dryers. You put tow in but only one comes out. But the truth is that sometimes socks just need some time alone. It is too hard being with the other sock all of the time. Sooner or later you will find the lost sock after they are refreshed fom their solitude. Could be a day or a month or years......
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