" CREATIVE WRITING "

FICTIONAL SHORT STORY:

"The Brave Little Squirrel and the Wise Owl"

                           

In a big forest, there was a young squirrel named Nutty and an old owl named Oliver. Nutty loved to explore and try new things, while Oliver liked to sit in his tree and watch over the forest. Even though they were different, they were the best of friends.

One day, Nutty found a shiny red acorn. It sparkled in the sunlight, and Nutty was excited. "Look, Oliver! This acorn is so special! I’m going to hide it in the best spot in the forest!"

Oliver looked at the acorn and said, "It’s beautiful, Nutty. But sometimes, the best things are not for us to keep. Maybe you should think about sharing it."

Nutty didn’t understand. "But I found it first! It’s mine!" he said.

The next day, a strong wind blew, and Nutty’s acorn rolled away. He looked everywhere but couldn’t find it. Feeling sad, Nutty went to Oliver for help.

Oliver said, “Sometimes, things we want the most can slip away. But that doesn’t mean we’ve lost everything. True happiness comes from sharing and being kind to others.”

Nutty thought about it and decided to share his acorns with the other animals. Soon, Nutty had many new friends. He learned that sharing brought more joy than keeping things to himself.

Moral lesson of the story: The best things in life are not what we keep, but the kindness and love we share with others.

POEM:

"The Silent Journey"

 

In the quiet of the night,

when the world breathes slow and deep,

dreams stir like whispers

that glide through the dark,

unseen, yet felt.

They are not like stars

that scatter bright across a distant sky,

but like footprints in soft sand—

faint, yet always there,

leading somewhere unknown.

In dreams, we speak to the shadows

of things we never said,

hear the echoes of moments

we never lived.

Here, the heart speaks in ways

the waking world can't touch.

It is a quiet journey,

with no map or final place,

only the knowing that

when the dawn breaks,

the dreams will stay—

woven into the fabric

of who we are.

CHAPTER 1 :

"Fears of Love"

The school bell rang, and Dessy hurried to the hallway, her heart beating fast. She saw him: Dan. Everyone knew Dan. He was the boy who could do everything. He could sing like a star, paint pictures that looked real, and solve hard problems in class like they were nothing. Girls liked him not just because he was smart and talented, but because he had this calm, kind way about him.

Dessy didn’t just like Dan. She thought about him all the time. She wanted to know everything about him, to be close to him. But Dan always kept to himself. He wasn’t like the other boys who joked around or flirted with girls. He seemed different, and Dessy wanted to know why.

One day, Dessy walked past the music room and stopped. She heard Dan singing. His voice was soft and sad, like he was telling a secret through the song. She peeked in and saw him sitting alone with his guitar. When the song ended, she clapped softly. Dan looked up, surprised.

"I didn’t know anyone was there," he said.

"You’re really good," Dessy said, stepping inside. The song felt real. Dan smiled a little but didn’t say much. Dessy wanted to ask him more, but she didn’t want to scare him off.

After that day, Dessy kept finding ways to talk to him. She joined the art club where he painted, stayed late at school near the music room, and even helped with tutoring when he was around. Little by little, Dan started talking to her more. At first, it was just small things about school or art. But then they began sharing more personal things. As they grew closer, Dessy noticed something: Dan always seemed sad. It was like he was carrying something heavy in his heart.

One day, she couldn’t hold back anymore.

"Dan," she said while they were working on a painting together, "why do you always seem so far away? Like you’re hiding something?"

Dan stopped painting and looked at her. For a moment, he said nothing. Then, in a quiet voice, he said, "I have a son."

Dessy blinked. "A... son?"

Dan nodded. "His name is Jamie. He’s two years old. His mom—she died in a car accident when Jamie was just a baby."

Dessy’s eyes widened. She didn’t know what to say. She had thought Dan’s life was perfect, but now she saw it wasn’t.

"That’s why I don’t care about dating or love," Dan said. "Jamie is my world. I have to take care of him. There’s no room for anything else."

Dessy felt her chest tighten. She wanted to help him, but she didn’t know how. "That must be so hard," she said softly.

Dan nodded. "It is. But I don’t have a choice."

Dessy saw Dan differently now. Not just as a talented boy, but as someone who had faced loss and carried heavy responsibilities. She didn’t just admire him; she wanted to support him. She started to help in small ways, like offering to babysit his son Jamie. At first, Dan hesitated to accept her help.

"You don’t have to do this," he told her.

"But I want to," Dessy replied. "You don’t have to do everything alone."

Over time, Dan began to open up. He smiled more and shared stories about Jamie, and Dessy realized her feelings for him ran deeper than admiration. Their connection wasn’t perfect or easy. Dan still struggled, and Dessy learned patience. But together, they found that love could be a source of strength, even in life’s hardest moments.

CHAPTER 2 :

"Fears of Love"

The seasons changed, painting the town in golden hues as autumn arrived. Days turned into weeks, and Dessy and Dan’s bond grew deeper, like two roots entwining beneath the soil. Yet, there was always a wall around Dan—a fortress guarding his heart.

One afternoon, as the leaves danced in the wind, Dessy found Dan by the old oak tree near the schoolyard. He was sitting cross-legged, his sketchpad resting on his knees, lost in a world of lines and colors. But his eyes were stormy, as if a tempest brewed within.

“Dan,” Dessy said softly, her voice like the whisper of falling leaves. He looked up, startled, but managed a faint smile. “What are you drawing?”

He held up the sketchpad. The page showed a boy standing at the edge of a cliff, gazing at the horizon where the sun kissed the sea. “It’s how I feel sometimes,” he murmured. “Like I’m standing on the edge, trying to figure out where to go.”

Dessy sat beside him, the crisp grass tickling her fingers. “You don’t have to stand there alone, you know,” she said, her words like a gentle breeze. “Sometimes it’s easier to face the horizon with someone by your side.”

Dan looked at her, his walls trembling. “It’s not that simple,” he said. “What if I pull you into my storm? What if I hurt you?”

Dessy reached for his hand, her touch warm and steady. “Even storms pass, Dan. And maybe, just maybe, I can help you find the calm.”

For the first time, Dan let the silence stretch without building a barrier. “My mom used to say that love is like light,” he said after a moment. “Even the smallest spark can brighten the darkest night.”

Dessy smiled, her heart aching for the boy who carried so much weight. “Then let’s find that spark together,” she said. “We don’t have to be perfect. We just have to try.”

From that day on, Dan began to open up, bit by bit, like a flower unfolding in the sun. He shared stories of Jamie—the way he laughed, his favorite bedtime story, how he clung to Dan like a lifeline. Dessy listened, her heart swelling with admiration for the boy who had turned his pain into love for his son.

As winter crept in, their connection grew stronger. They spent evenings painting murals in the art room, their laughter echoing through the empty halls. Dan even brought Jamie to one of their art sessions, and Dessy marveled at the light that sparked in his eyes when he was with his son.

And though life wasn’t without its storms, they found solace in each other. Together, they learned that love, no matter how fragile, could be the light that guides them through the darkest night.

"The Door Guard"

I work in the King's castle, guarding a small door that leads down to the dungeon. For two years, my job has been uneventful. I haven’t seen or heard anything unusual—just silence.

But two days ago, I started hearing a faint, rambling noise. At first, I thought it was just my imagination. The first day, there was nothing out of the ordinary. But the next day, the noise grew louder and louder. I realized it wasn’t my imagination after all.

Confused and intrigued, I decided to open the door without hesitation. As the door creaked open, I froze in shock.

There, in the dim light of the dungeon, was a woman. She was tied up, her body covered in bruises. She looked weak and frightened.

Gently, I walked toward her to help. As I reached her, the King suddenly appeared at the door. His tall figure stood in the dim light, and his face looked serious. I froze, not knowing what to say or do. The woman tied up in front of me let out a soft groan, and my heart raced.

“What are you doing here, guard?” the King asked firmly, his voice sharp.

“My lord,” I said, trying to stay calm. “I heard strange noises from behind the door. I didn’t know someone was here... She looks hurt. She needs help.”

The King stared at me for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to my surprise, he sighed and stepped closer to the woman. His voice softened as he spoke. “You shouldn’t have tried to run away,” he said to her quietly. “But maybe I was wrong. You don’t deserve this.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The King, who was known for his strict rules, knelt beside her and gently untied the ropes. He lifted her into his arms, careful not to hurt her more. She looked up at him, confused but no longer afraid.

“Guard,” he said, looking at me, “come with me. We’ll take her to the healer. And you are not to speak of this to anyone.”

I nodded and followed him. As we walked through the dark halls, I kept glancing at the woman. She was bruised and weak, but for the first time, she looked like she had hope.

At the healer’s room, the King stayed by her side, giving orders to treat her with the best care. Days turned into weeks, and I saw the woman slowly recover. The King visited her every day, bringing her food, flowers, and even books. He smiled more often, and his voice was no longer cold when he spoke to her.

One day, I was called to the throne room. To my surprise, the woman stood beside the King, dressed in fine clothes and looking healthier than ever. The King announced to everyone that she would now be his queen.

As I watched the crowd cheer, I felt proud. I had only been guarding a small door, but opening it changed everything. It taught me that even the smallest actions can make a big difference.