Sophia with her 14 years of age, is the youngest collaborator of our magazine who intends to promote young talents in writing – Red.Cultura – The cover image is “Rain in the oak forest” by Ivan Shishkin (1832 -1898)
SECRECY OF BOOKS
There’s a downpour of rain that has been hammering the roof for hours now, and you are all alone in the big and spacious home, suddenly the lights go out and it’s almost pitch black in the house because of the thunderclouds. You decide to grab your flashlight and head into your room, you then crawl back under the covers of your bed. A book lies on the nightstand beside your bed that you have never seen before, so you decide to open the book and read it, since there is nothing else to do, you click the flashlight on and turn the moldy-smelling pages of the strange book.
And as you start reading the first sentence of the mysteries book you strangely get pulled into the story itself. At first you feel tingling in your stomach, and then you see a bright light, you cover your eyes with your hands but when you remove them you’re not in your room anymore, but you’re in a garden of some sort and as it seems the rain has stopped. You explore your surroundings of the garden, you first cross a bridge under the glimmering ravine and into what seems to be a rose garden, it’s beautiful all around, the colors the smells, it all feels like magic has been spread to show such beauty, you keep walking into an unknown direction with flowers and plants all around you, then you enter an arc of yellow trees who’s leaves are almost the size of your hand. You spin around in all the beauty that you see, and as you keep walking you pass all kinds of nature, yet you still do not know where you are, but you suddenly reach a big tree with a swing on it and a view of a lake with a beautiful background of empty green land. After so much walking you decide to climb up onto one of the trees thick branches and rest, after you are fully recovered you decide on going back into the garden, as you are walking past the gardens you start to wonder if there is a door out, and as if on command you see a gate, you see that the gate is made out of steel and it has a big lock on it, but that doesn’t matter since you are an expert at climbing all sorts of things, and you easily climb onto a tree and onto a thick branch and jumped off of it, as easily as you climbed it.
On the other side is nothing special, just a forest with a path that led to somewhere, you follow the path that led you to a ground road, you stop and sit down as you are out of breath from all that walking, and after a quick break you head left where it seems that the road was getting distant, after a couple of hours of walking you see a village not that far of from where your standing, you get to the village in about twenty minutes or so. The village itself is apparently a small town in France and as you walk through the village you notice that there aren’t as many French in the small village, and those who are in the village are looking very happy for some reason, then you pass a newspaper boy and see that his newspaper looks very old and the writing says in French “ La Seconde Guerre mondiale est terminée, citoyens en paix” which means “ WW2 has ended, citizens at peace “ you are bewildered with disbelief, no wonder all the cars and newspaper look so old, you think to yourself, now you understand that apparently you have traveled back in time to when your hometown had been celebrating the end of WW2, you feel so proud of yourself for solving the small mystery of the place around you but you also feel proud of the people around you, and for how they fought to keep their beautiful land safe.
Then suddenly as you start walking you feel the tingling in your stomach again and then the bright light, like before you cover your eyes with your hands and when you remove them your not in the old French village anymore but you’re at home with you under your blankets. You hear your mother open the door to your bedroom and stares at you with mischief, then she says “ history is an important lesson Marie, don’t forget that ” then she turns away without giving a chance to ask what happened, but as she was about to walk down the stairs she turns around and says “ oh and by the way the library is open until six” and with that she turns and goes down stairs to the kitchen. And with nothing else to do you hop onto your bike and pedal to the library, wondering if there you will find another spectacular time travel.
ONCE UPON A TREE
Once upon a tree, there lived a little seed,
Once upon a tree, a flock of birds came home at lighting speed,
Once upon a tree, a curious little hatchling came across a seed,
Once upon a tree, the curious hatchling took the little seed back to its favorite tree,
Once upon a tree, the little seed escaped through the wide-open doors of the soft breeze,
Once upon a tree, the little seed flew to its need,
Once upon a tree, the little seed flew away from the calming shore of the soft breeze,
Once upon a tree, the little seed fell right into the mighty sea,
Once upon a tree, the little seed swam to the free land of Tennessee,
Once upon a tree, the little seed picked up a small breeze,
Once upon a tree, the little seed was back onto it’s feet,
Once upon a tree, the little seed found a spot of clearness off the side of a mountain tree,
Once upon a tree, the little seed settled in for the sweetest dream,
And while the seed slept through it’s years, we saw the curious lifespan of a soon to be a once upon a tree.
Selfpresentation by Sofia
Hi, my name is Sofia Pigulevsky I am from Moscow, Russia. I live in America, Florida. I was born in 2007.
I started writing in 4th grade. Many of my language arts teachers pulled some of my work onto the wall of achievements. I am in 7th grade now and this is where I am flourishing with my writing. My current teacher noticed my writing skills and helped them improve on a larger scale. When I wright it feels as if I can express my emotions deeper and release what’s on my mind. Something that inspires me is meeting worldwide known writers or seeing something unique, for example: a work of art, a dance (which I love to do myself) or even as simple as plain nature. I love to travel with my notebook, with it I can right all the new experiences and sight seeing’s. Though because of Covid- 19 I can’t go to school and show what I have written to the teacher, I send it on my school email. Sometimes when I go to bed I might wake up in the middle of the night, because I came up with a new short story to wright.
L'AUTORE
