Day Five: I believe in recycling.

This entry is a favor to a few people. Most of all, my mother. She always begged me to save my stories. What better place to save them than online? As most of us have learned the hard way, you can’t get rid of anything once it’s online…

There’s no smooth way to introduce this subject, so I’m going to take the direct path back to my ten year old brain. In grade school, there was always the inevitable assignment of a creative story. It happened every few months it seemed, during 3rd and 4th grade. I decided to save a little brain power and create a recurring character.

Enter: Ms. Whizzelheimer. I called her Wiz for short. Wiz was a lady-bug. A talking lady-bug with super human strength and a shady past. She had six spots on each wing, and a rather unpleasant demeanor. Her travels had brought her to Bristol, VT (Hey! That’s where I’m from!), where she had befriended a young girl named Sadie.

Sidenote: I was obsessed with the name Sadie up until 6th Grade. Every story I wrote conveniently had a character named Sadie. I tried desperately to get my junior high math teacher to name her baby Sadie. She went with Rose or something. I can’t remember. Once I learned it wasn’t Sadie, my interest in the subject decreased dramatically.

Wiz and Sadie had numerous adventures together. It all began with Sadie being threatened by the school bully. Wiz used her super human strength to break the bully’s fingers. (I clearly did not believe in peaceful conflict resolution at the time.) They dog-sat the neighbor’s poodle and Wiz gave the creature a horrendous haircut. Our heroes attended the county fair where Wiz fell off a ride and into the cotton candy machine. Sadie had to save her from being eaten by threatening to punch the small child who had purchased the bug-laced confection. (Seriously? I had some aggression issues to address.)

In a holiday-themed entry, Wiz got Sadie the gift of her dreams by ordering it online, because, of course, Wiz couldn’t go the mall alone. I remember that story earned me some extra bonus points as the Internet was still fairly foreign in my very rural Vermont school.

I would write each story out by hand, complete with illustrations, and use whatever scrap materials I could find to craft what I thought could pass as a book. One involved a ripped up paper bag and red duct tape. I had such a swell of pride as I would hand the books to my parents, teachers, and friends. I have no idea if any of them actually gave a crap, but they all smiled politely and said I should create more. I think I finally stopped recycling those characters once hormones kicked in and talking insects didn’t seem like it would help my social status any longer.

But honestly, I miss those weird characters. I miss the pressure-free feeling of telling a very short story in simple words and small sentences. Now that I’ve marked a place for them on this crazy Internet contraption, maybe Sadie and Wiz can ride again one day.

6 Spots!!

Photo from here.

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