Have been going through some boxes that I had stashed away, [and promptly forgotten] at a friend's house for three years. [wry smile] It's amazing what you accumulate over the years. In one box we have found some old notes from college, pages filled with doodles, [Why did I keep those?] and a personality profile that states I am meant to be a nurse. Ha! Fat chance, as I am too afraid of needles! Another box contains some old dishes that I have no use for, and some pots and pans that are now quiet rusty. But the real find was hidden in a box marked 'old school books'. In it we have found my old school books from grades 1 through 3. [Otherwise known at grades 1& 2, Standard 1. As I did my early schooling in Africa]. Most of the copybooks are filled with my early attempts at arithmetic, letters and spelling. One copybook entitled 'My Own Stories', however contains my first endeavors as an author. Here is one of those antiquated stories:
A Storm at Sea
I am off to sea. I am very scared and frightened. I bet you want to know what I do on a boat? Well I normally scrub the deck. There is thunder and I am very scared. The boat is cracked in half, oi.
My teacher at the time thought is was a lovely story. Honestly, it says right there on the page. Lovely!
It's amazing how much simpler our stories were when we were young. We didn't feel the need to embellish them with big words, nor did we try to be fanciful and fill them with too much imagery. We simply stated what we felt and saw. 'I am very scared...the boat is cracked in half.'