A while back I was asked to create a children’s story to move onto the next phase of a writing competition. This was something I had in mind, an attempt at something I’m not sure I wish to pursue, but as all of my ideas come from places unknown, I was glad to get it out. It’s abridged, for the competition had a word count limit, so there is more to the story wondering if it’s going to get out of my head and placed in plain view. If you have comments I’d appreciate it, for books for kids have their own specific rules that I know I’m not following.
Also, to see where I’m going with this, I wrote something I thought about making a series called Tales Of A Librarian. It’s stories inside of stories, and hopefully the’ll teach a lesson about reading, or something like that. If you’re interested, here’s the link: https://aridtestimony.com/tales-of-a-librarian/
In a small hut, in a fishing village, a boy was born, and he was named Benin. His Mother was so happy to have a son. Taking him in her arms, she took a big sniff from him and said, “You smell like the sea.”
The women that were there to help took a sniff, and said “You’re right. He smells like the spray of the ocean and the wind in his hair”. From then on they knew he would be a great fisherman when he grew up.
They lived on the coast of Parrot Island, popular for its parrots. Red ones and green, blue ones and yellow. Even blue and green ones, and yellow and red ones. So many bright colors and so many combinations.
On some days Benin’s mother would carry him out to a table that was set up outside their hut. Then she would collect different melons from inside and set them out on the table. There would be cantaloupe and honeydew, watermelon and sugar baby. Then she would cut the melons into big chunks.
The parrots would then swoop out of the trees, landing on the table in a flurry of feathers and colors, surrounding Benin with happy caws and whistles. They were always polite, and would wait until baby Benin handed them a piece of melon, carefully taking it in one claw. Benin would always make sure each parrot had a piece of melon before eating his own.
His Mother would beam brightly at the colorful scene, Benin surrounded by parrots and all of them eating melon.She wished days like this could last forever. But she knew that Benin would grow up soon, and become the fisherman everyone knew he would be.
And sure enough, he did. His Uncle, a stout and scruffy old fisherman, took to visiting him and taught him how to tie knots. He turned it into a game, one which Benin took to easily, and by the time he was five he could tie any knot you could think of.
When he was six he caught his first Bluefish with a stick and some fishing line he tied all by himself. He caught it off the old stone pier, a long pile of big rocks that went way out from the beach, where there was nothing but sun and sea and seagulls calling out. The fish was almost as big as he was and he almost lost it a few times as the fish flapped and flopped.
When he was seven he learned how to make a thin rope from the hairs of coconuts. From this he made his own fishing net. He would cast it from the old stone pier, hoping to catch some red and yellow fish. The small waves would lap and shine from the sun as he hauled up his full net, all by himself.
When he was ten his Uncle gave Benin a small boat. It had a single mast with a single sail and a rudder to steer the boat. He had fun that day sailing around the harbour, learning which way the wind was blowing and catching the right waves. When he was done learning all he needed to steer the boat right (and done being a nuisance to all the other fishing boats that were trying to get to port), he grabbed a fishing rod and headed for the open sea.
It wasn’t long before he got his first bite, and it was a big one. It tried to pull the boat out to deep water, far away from the shore. It was all Benin could do to drop sail and tie off the rudder, and hold on to the rod. The fish swam left, then it swam right. Then it swam left again, and then right again. Benin held on with all of his might as the fish swam further and further out. He began reeling down and pulling up, hoping to tire the fish out. This went on for hours and hours, with the fish pulling him along, and Benin pulling it up.
Benin never gave up, and at long last, he got the fish. A four foot fat Bass fish was now in the bottom of the boat, leaving Benin exhausted. He rested for a bit, gasping for air as the waves rocked the boat. When he rested long enough, he set sail and headed back to the harbour.
The sun was setting when he pulled up to the dock. All of the other fisherman heard he was back and ran out to greet him.
“Wow, that’s a big fish” said one.
“And for a kid your size” said another
“You’re going to be a great fisherman” said a third.
“Thanks” said Benin. He quickly tied up his boat, slung the fish over his shoulder, and ran home.
“Mother, come see, I caught my first big fish!” He showed her the Bass and beamed proudly.
“That’s very good” said his Mother, beaming right back. “But you had me worried. You were gone a long time.”
“I know, sorry”, said Benin. “It was a long fight, but I got the fish. Does this mean I’m the man of the house now?”
“Oh look at you” said his mother. “The man of the house. Does this mean you won’t help me feed the parrots now?”
“No” Benin said quickly.
“Then don’t be in such a rush to grow up. Now help me with the melons.”
They went inside their hut and grabbed as many melons as they could carry. They took them to the table, and Benin’s Mother began slicing them up. Down came the parrots in bursts of feathers and colors. Benin began handing them pieces, and made sure each parrot had one before he ate his own piece.
His Mother smiled at the scene. She knew Benin would grow up to be the greatest fisherman ever. But for now, she was just happy he was still a kid.
Arid Testimony 