The Anthology Continues: Prepare To Be Inspired And Captivated By The Power Of Stories

Hiya guys!😃

I’m back with the third part of the anthology I’m writing. I kicked off with two of my own experiences, ‘The Gift’ and ‘That Time I Stood Up For What I Believed’. You can read them here and here. I also asked you all to share your life-defining moments with me too, to add to the anthology I wanted to create. In ‘The Gift’, I presented two beautifully written and absolutely inspirational experiences that people had sent me.

Today I am extremely​ pleased to say that I have two more to give you!

I’ll start off with one from my own Nan, as some of you will probably have noticed, she comments on every single post I make, sharing her wise words and everlasting support. Thanks Nan! Here is her story, I will just explain it a little just so it makes sense to those of you who don’t know the circumstances.

My Uncle Andy, Nan’s son,  died a few months before I was born. He was a climber and tragically his passion cost him his life, though he lost it being brave and  trying to save someone else. His ashes are scattered at the summit of Great Gable, a mountain in the Lake District, UK. Although I never met him, I miss him because the people close to me do.

Now onto Nan’s story.

When I lost your Uncle Andrew I wanted to see the top of the mountain where he was. So with all the family I set out as a sponsored climb for mountain rescue. I was 62 years old at the time. The weather was terrible that day, wind and rain. Gracie, your Dad said to me “You don’t have to do this Mum.” I replied: “Yes, I do.”. A lot of people were egging me on and although it was the toughest thing I have ever done I was determined to reach the top. I raised a lot of money for mountain rescue to help other people. Which says to me that if you want to do something in life and have the inner strength and determination you can conquer all.

Isn’t this just incredible?

Now for one from the lovely Adoma, who blogs at https://girlfromghana.wordpress.com

Her story is quite long and I can’t figure out how to copy and paste on this phone that I’m having to use as it’s the only thing I can fit in Mo. I’m having several frustrating technical difficulties currently.  So sorry Adoma and everyone reading this, I’m just giving you the link.

Adoma wanted to share an emotional and difficult experience for her and I’m honoured that she’s allowing me to post the link here: https://girlfromghana.wordpress.com/2017/04/08/what-the-june-3rd-disaster-taught-me/

Please do go read it and leave her a comment. It would be much appreciated by us both!

I hope that you enjoyed this post and that you were inspired and captivated by the stories you’ve just read. I’d love you to send me your thoughts, always love hearing from you all!

Bye for now,

Gracie.

 

 

 

 

The Gift: My Second Story + The Exciting Start Of An Anthology

Hello there people! As promised, here is the second of my life-changing experiences that I said I wanted to share with you all. If you haven’t read my first post of this series, That Time I Stood Up For What I believed In,  please click here.

I am also still looking for bloggers who are willing to step forward and share their own stories with the world, by contributing to my anthology. All you have to do is comment below, leaving your experience and I’ll put it in a post with some other people’s, to represent a diverse array of positive and negative experiences that made us who we are today.  I have a few participators at the moment, some who’ve given their stories, others who’re still writing them. It would be great to have many more though.

So without further ado, I present:

The Gift by Gracie Chick (ME!!!)

I stand pressed against the wall, I can smell the chlorine from the pool and I’m gazing down at its green-blue depths through the glass of the viewing area window.  I am surrounded by jostling, noisy kids with wet hair, just come up from swimming classes. My own ponytail is dripping down my back uncomfortably. 

Usually I would be joining in the conversation, laughing and joking with my friends, but today is different. Today is so much different.

Bittersweet feelings are flooding my body and my mind, they are intensified as a familiar face emerges from the crowd. She looks at me sadly, and then just walks up and pulls me into a hug, I hug back, my eyes pricking with tears. 

I’ve only lived here seven months, but great and strong relationships can be formed in that time. And it’s often when you go to leave them, you realise what amazing friends they’ve been. 

Her Mum calls her name and she glances over her shoulder. 

“Gotta go.” There’s a moment of sad serenity as we say goodbye. 

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Another friend comes and stands by my side and together we watch her run out of the door and down the street, away from the leisure centre. “Hug?” my friend asks. “Yeah.” I hug her too, it seems that’s all I’ve done this morning. “Thank you for everything.” I say “For making us feel so welcome, for being so kind and thoughtful, for teaching us so many new things, for becoming such a great friend.” 

She smiles and thanks me too. “I’ve got something for you guys. I gave it to your Mum.” She says and then she has to leave too. I wave to her with a brave face, but inside I’m welling up with sadness. 

Back at the place that we wouldn’t be calling home for much longer, I suddenly thought of my friend’s words about the gifts she’d left us. Me and my siblings opened the packages that had been given to us by my friend’s family, people who had taught us so much. They had welcomed us into their own house, shared all their skills and passions with us and showed us true hospitality and kindness. 

They had already given so much. I opened the envelope addressed to me first and I started to read the letter inside. It was from the eldest daughter, my friend and teacher, thanking me for listening, learning and showing her so many new things. Then she began to tell me about the gift she had given me. 

 

 She had bestowed upon me the most precious thing she owned. I would prefer not to say what, because it is quite personal, but it was the meaning and the sentiment with which it was given that really touched my heart. 

Reading her honest, heartfelt words made the emotion that already filled my body spill out in the form of tears.

I could not believe that she had valued me so much as to give me the most meaningful thing in her life. In her beautiful letter she explained that it was ‘ the most precious thing that God granted me to have and I am thankful to have it.  “I have thought many times before about giving it to you, so now is a good opportunity”. 

I felt this great and overwhelming emotion, a mix of honour, sadness, joy and strength. I could the bond of our friendship getting tighter, not weaker, as we had said goodbye. I had the feeling that this relationship would just get stronger and grow as time went on.

So there you have it, my second experience, The Gift. For someone to give me the most valuable thing in their life, as a symbol of our friendship, showed me how important relationships really are. I made up my mind to treasure this gift and keep it always.

I hope you enjoyed reading it and now it’s your turn. Please send me an experience to include in my anthology, which will be spread out over several posts, so I can learn something from you.

I’ve decided to share the two experiences that I have received in this post today! Starting with one from the amazing Thoughts In Life.

Honestly, what I have learnt from a personal experience is to not allow others to change you. I was influenced when I was younger by a person very close to me and I became a person that today I cannot recognise. I became distant from the people I love, my attitude became unbearable, I changed for the bad. But after a while I realized this wasn’t who I was. I started changing my life around, and started being myself. No matter who you meet in life don’t allow them to control you or turn you into a person you are not.

And now for one from my Auntie Melissa, one of my most loyal readers.

I vividly remember when I was about 9 being in the school playground with my friend who was being bullied. We could’ve cowered in a corner and continued to be scared, instead we stood together and passively defied the bullies. We wouldn’t fight or call them names back, but together we refused to be afraid and do you know, they went away and left us alone after that.

I learnt that you just have to be true to yourself and your beliefs and in this case, for me, it is to ‘treat others as you would like to be treated yourself’. In a kind and caring way. I still practise this as much as I can today and in my current work very much believe that if I want change, then I have to make it happen in my life before I can help and advise others to do the same. How can I ask someone to change something that I myself will not consider?

What did you think of all three stories? Please don’t hesitate to send me one yourself, it doesn’t have to be super long and detailed or a major experience, it can just be a little memory you have that always sticks with you and that you learned a lesson from. It can be short and brief, but powerful, like the ones above. 

Thanks y’all and bye for now..

Gracie 🙂 🙂 🙂

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That Time When I Stood Up For What I Believed In

Hello People!

I’d like to share with you two personal experiences that I hope will shape and inspire my future.

In return, I’m asking you to send me the experiences that have affected the way you live your life. I had the idea of creating an anthology of all YOUR most memorable and meaningful life events. All you have to do is comment your story, along with what it taught you in life. Then I’ll put them all together in a post (or two!), like a virtual book. P.S. If it’s a bit longer or more detailed, post it on your own blog and send me the link. Anyone is welcome to take part, so please don’t hesitate.

I’ll start off the anthology with mine. One of mine happened a long time ago and the other only yesterday, but both of them have made a huge impact on my life and thoughts, they’ve both taught me priceless lessons and showed me things I never really saw before.

I’m sorry that this post is so long, but please keep reading, as it’s so important to me and I’d love you to give me some feedback.

Today I’ll start with the first one, which was about three and a half years ago. The second one will be coming very soon……!

That Time I Stood Up For What I Believe In by Gracie Chick (ME!!!)

 I walk across the shiny wood floor, my walking boots thud dully and I listen to the sharp clackety- clack of all the other kids smart, black polished school shoes. I stride towards the other ten year olds, my usual shy smile replaced with a proud, confident beam. The source of my strength comes from the two gold lines that run down the sleeve on my ironed green sweater. Last week I was made a Sixer, an honour given to a few responsible, respected cub scouts. 

As I stand beside my fellow cub scouts, I can almost feel those lines radiating heat. “Gracie Chick!” A voice snaps me out of my imagination.  As I hear the leader’s words, I learn that the legendary Sixer’s conference has been called and I am told to join them, I need no encouragement.

All the younger and newer cubs, that I had once been a part of, whispered about what went on in that back room and, although everyone had their theories, none of us really knew. I knew that I was entering a new and exciting world now.

I watch as the more experienced and older members discuss what we’ll do on the special day that we get to ourselves, to practice team building and leadership skills. 

The suggestions keep on coming and I listen with interest. Suddenly someone says “What about laser tag?” and everyone agrees. “Yes! Yes! Laser tag. Perfect.” “Okay, well that’s settled then.” The leader glances round the room. Slowly and nervously I raise my hand.

“Yes, Gracie?”

“Um, what’s laser tag?” I asked tentatively. 

Everyone jumps in to try to explain it to me. 

“Basically, it’s a dark room and you get a laser gun and run round trying to shoot each other.”

“Kill as many people as you can.” 

“It’s just a game really, but it feels like a proper war.” 

I leave cubs that night with a furrowed brow and troubling thoughts on my mind. In the car on the way home to the farm where I live, I relay all the information to my Dad. I finish with “I can’t believe they find that fun!” 

My Dad thinks for a while and then says this, “Me neither Gracie, killing is never a game. Pretend guns or real guns, shooting is shooting. For too many people all over the world, war is real life. What would a kid who’s lost his family to war say if he saw people treating it like a game?” 

“I don’t want to go, Dad.” I whisper “I think it’s wrong, totally wrong.” My Dad nods sadly, he knows how much it meant to me. 

When I go home that night, I tell my Mum too and between my parents they come up with an idea. “Why don’t you email your leader and tell her how you feel about laser tag? Maybe you could talk to all the others about your reasons.” 

So I sat down and wrote this email to my cub leader. 

Dear Akela  (That’s what we call our leader)

I just wanted to talk to you about why I’d rather not do laser hub.
I feel that running around shooting people is not a game, because war makes people suffer and die!
If you’ve already booked it, it’s ok! I’d just rather not come. Maybe if you haven’t already booked it we could have a meeting about it in sixer and seconder council and I could share my views? Then we could have another vote? I’ve got some suggestions if it’s not too late.
I’ve never played shooting games with other kids and I don’t really feel comfortable doing it at cubs, if that’s all right.
I’ll mention my ideas when we have the meeting (if we can have it).
Yours,
Gracie

 

She replied the next day: 

Dear Gracie.
Thankyou for your thoughtful e-mail, I do completely understand your point of view, my own children were strongly discouraged from playing with guns when they were growing up for exactly the same reasons.
Having said that I do feel that Laser gaming is just that – an  imaginative game which has developed with all the new technology out there & I suspect that those Cubs who came up with the idea & who voted in its favour do not necessarily equate it with real life warfare. You are absolutely right that if at all possible we should discuss it.
I have added it to next week’s programme (Sixer / Seconder Council) although suspect it could develop into quite a debate. Just so you know where we are with planning,
Keego & I had discussed the possibility of going to a centre in Eastbourne where there is a laser quest option but there is also bowling. Can I talk to you tomorrow at X Country?  Akela
I started thinking immediately. What would I say? How would I explain myself? To this day, I still swear that it was one of the most nerve-racking experiences of my life. I wrote draft after draft on paper and then I scribbled it out and started again. 
Finally I decided on the words I would use and I was ready that next Wednesday nightthough my heart kept doing somersaults and I was scared of what the other kid’s reactions might be. They’d been so adamant about laser tag, how would they take to my suggestion? Would they think of me differently after this day?
I clutched my piece of paper as I walked through the door that night. I still remember the clean white kitchen, with out-of-date custard creams and black currant squash on the side. The other kids all gathered around the table. My Akela nodded at me and I managed a quick nervous smile before I began reading off of my paper. 
Last week we discussed the possibility of doing laser tag as our Sixer’s day out. For my own personal reasons, I’d rather not do that. If you’d like to know what they are, please feel free to ask me later.  However, I have another idea. I’d like to invite you all to come to my farm and play night games in the woods. We can light a campfire and cook over it.” 
Akela stepped in. “Who likes Gracie’s idea?” She asked brightly. A flurry of enthusiastic voices filled the air and almost made me fall over with surprise. I’d been gearing myself up for disagreement and disappointment, yet everyone seemed to positive.
And so that’s how it happened, my boldness changed their minds. We ran around the woods for hours, laughing and joking. We made our own food and stuffed our faces with chocolate fondue. Our bonds as a team certainly became stronger and we all made memories that night. 
And what did I learn from that experience? It taught me that I had to be the change I wanted to see in the world. It taught me that people will listen if you give them good reason to.
I want to know about the experiences that have shaped your lives? What’s the most meaningful thing that ever happened to you? Tell me your stories, I’ve told you mine. As I always say, your beautiful comments always fill me with hope. 
I especially value your opinions on my more personal and thought-provoking posts, so please send me a few words and I’ll reply. I’m also welcoming of comment discussions! 
Don’t forget that the second experience is coming soon, so watch this space….
Goodbye for now and remember to send me your own stories and thoughts!
Gracie
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Sojourner’s Truth

He said he’d set me free in a year if I worked hard. I did my best, I was so hopeful that me and my family would have a better future. When the time came, I reminded him of his promise. But the man had changed his mind. Back then I didn’t know that slavery was due to be abolished in New York when that time was up. Really he had no choice. 

Now it had been postponed and he, my slave master, had no intentions of letting us go when it was unnecessary. He was a cruel and self-centred man.  I remember the day I heard that news. The anger, disappointment and frustration that had been growing in me for so long reached its climax. I took my daughter and fled that place forever. 

We sought refuge with a family who abhorred slavery, me and my daughter were safe with them. Especially when they bought us for twenty dollars and gave us our freedoms. Of course I was happy, but I couldn’t help thinking of my fellow slaves, my many children, all of whom I knew were still toiling in the fields and bearing the lashes of the all too frequent whip. 

Slavery was abolished in our home state of New York soon after, to my absolute joy and relief. But when I tried to reunite with my son, I found out that he had been sold to someone in Alabama. That was against the law. Again, I felt that same strength inside me, fuelled by my grief and outrage. 

I was black and I was a woman, even though I was free, my rights were still little or nothing. What chance did I have of getting my son back? I didn’t know, but I had to try. I went to court, believe it or not. And I stood, in front of a crowd of all white men, and I stated my case. I was brave and it paid off. I won and my son came home to me. 

You may think I would be content with that, but no. I couldn’t bear the thought of all those slaves who were still under the power of their mean and heartless masters. The thought of the sickening stench of sweat and blood that I could still smell when I lay awake at night. When I closed my eyes I could see the straining muscles and pained expressions, hear the desperate cries resounding in my ears.

I didn’t know what I could do, but I knew that I had to do something. One day I just left my home and began walking. I changed my name to Sojourner Truth. A sojourner is a person who stays in one place for a short time, before moving on. A journeyer, a wanderer, a traveller.  I was searching for the truth. I was open, I learned as I went. I spoke, but most importantly, I listened. 

I walked the length and breadth of America, telling people about the plight of us slaves, about how skin colour doesn’t matter, how we feel things the same as anyone else, we are smart and brave and loving and loyal too. I told them about equality between humans, black and white, male and female. 

People got to hear of me I guess. I was known throughout the nation as a civil rights activist. I never really set out to be one, I was just a woman with faith and a message to share with others. I was some’s heroine and other’s enemy. But I didn’t care, I knew what I believed and I stood up for it.

I dedicated my life to the abolition of slavery in the U.S. Met Abraham Lincoln and told him the story of my life, played a part in recruiting troops to fight in the civil war to free my brothers and sisters who still suffered at the hands of their masters. I did everything in my power to wipe slavery off the earth.

That was the true story (retold by me) of a black slave woman named Isabella Baumfree, who became Sojourner Truth, a celebrated and admired civil rights activist, author of the famous and emotive speech ‘Ain’t I A Woman?’ which you can watch below.

What do you think Sojourner would think of the world how it is today? Does she inspire you like she inspires me? What emotions does the video provoke in you? Do you have any questions? Please let me know how you feel about this post as I really value all your opinions and ideas.  Comment discussions always welcome! 

 

 

 

Kindness Is Always A Choice

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Travelling round the world on a bright yellow motorbike relying entirely on the kindness of strangers? “Impossible!” I hear you cry “Crazy!” Well, that’s exactly what Leon Legothetis has done. He’s made a documentary about it too, Kindness Diaries.

You know when you watch something and it just sets off a whole load of exciting thoughts in your head, like an explosion? When one leads to another and suddenly you have this brand new and amazing idea that you can’t stop thinking about? When you start to write the words in your mind and imagine what they’ll look like on paper? When you sit down to type them up on your blog to inspire others like it inspired you?

Well, that’s what I’m going to do. Listen up because I’m about to share an incredible story with you……

In short, Leon was a successful businessman who realised that life wasn’t all about money and self. So he decided to go off around the world experiencing human kindness and paying it back where he could. He bought an old motorcycle that he nicknamed Kindness 1 and off he went, with no money, food or belongings.

After seeing this program it made me form an idea I’m calling ‘world kindness’.

Watching Leon and Kindness 1 in The Kindness Diaries made me realise just how simple kindness really is. It all boils down to just one choice, to be or not to be, that is the question. There are no ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’ about it.

In that moment you can think of yourself or you can think of others, the thoughts in your head and the decision that you make are the only determining factor of your kindness.

Anyone can make the choice. People can surprise themselves by just pushing everything self related to one side and saying yes. 

It can be quite a challenge to put human nature aside and go against your instincts, but there is kindness in all of us. We just have to let it take control. It’s that choice thing again!

The effects of world kindness could be unbelievable. All through history, war and greed have dominated. People have fought and killed over power and riches. But if every person on the planet decided to be kind perhaps we could break that pattern of thinking about self and make the future look a thousand times brighter.

We could defy the urge in us to think only of ourselves. We could stop arguing and fighting. We could start sharing instead of taking. We could achieve so much if we worked together. People would be happy and content. Because when you pay out kindness, it always comes back to you.

Imagine the world I have just described to you and remember the cost: just one, simple choice.

I’d love to hear your thoughts. Your feedback and comments mean so much and I always want to discuss things with others.  Different opinions and ideas are always welcome!  

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The Right To Be A Kid

Young people can be inspirational, empowered, passionate and aware of the world. They can make big differences, but in the end, kids are kids. They are entitled to a happy, safe and enriching childhood. An environment to play and learn and be themselves. But not all kids have this opportunity and it’s not just children that are poor or unprivileged that face this problem, even the richest and most famous of children can be forced to live in this situation.

This story is based on a true event involving Barron Trump and Chelsea Clinton. I found it incredible and it restored some of my faith in humanity.

The Right To Be A Kid by Gracie Chick (me) 

Snap! Snap! The cameras swarm like flies around the boy with the slightly bewildered expression. He is wearing an expensive blue suit and every now and then someone shoves into him, pressing a microphone into his face. His Mother is tall and glamorous beside him. She poses and then takes him by the hand and leads him up the steps, past the huge columns and  through the doorway that’s protected by tough security guards. 

His head is pounding and looks over his shoulder to see the guards closing the door on all the jostling reporters. 

He wanders around the hundreds of rooms that make up the mansion he has to call home. He feels lost. The boy gazes out of a window, watching the kids playing in the street and wishing he could do the same. But every time he steps outside he’s plagued by a cavalcade of paparazzi that descend upon him. Then there’s the fact that he moves school so often and he has no friends. No one. There’s so much pressure on his young shoulders. 

He knows what people think. As much as his parents may try to hide it from him. He knows people judge him on who is father is. He wishes they wouldn’t, he’s just like any other kid. 

The boy logs onto his fancy laptop. His Dad is the hottest topic, every news page has something to say, mostly negative. Social media is brimming with hateful comments, some regarding himself.  He scrolls through them,  each word a stab at his wounded heart.

But then he sees something different, nestled amongst the mocking messages is a glinting nugget of hope. The tweet reads:

‘Barron Trump deserves the chance to be a kid.’ The author is Chelsea Clinton, the daughter of his Father’s old rival to the presidency.

His heart is lifted as he reads through some more. 

‘Whether you support Trump or you don’t, you can’t attack Barron Trump just because of whose son he is.’ 

‘He didn’t run for office, did he? He is ten years old.’

The End.

And in the raging social media battle that ensued, Democrats and Republicans alike, set aside their differences to defend the rights of a child. I am glad that they made the decision to stand up for Barron Trump together and to fight against prejudice.

It just goes to show that there is always one thing that can join us together. Maybe if we find that one thing then the people of the world that are fighting can stop, the people who are taking can give, the people who are lying can tell the truth, the people who are sad can be joyful and the people who are crying can laugh.

I hope you enjoyed this post and I’d love to hear from you! Please let me know what you think, your feedback always means a lot, especially on my more thought-provoking posts.

 

 

 

Sunrise In The Middle East

I wrote this story about girl’s rights in the Middle East. Hope you enjoy, but any constructive criticism is welcome! I have entered this short story into the Wicked Young Writer’s Awards so wish me luck!

Sunrise In The Middle East

“Greetings People. It’s me, Sunrise, and I’m back with the latest progress on the Girl’s Rights In The Middle East front. As you know…..”

I pause to blow away some of the dust that’s trapped in the gaps between the letters on my keyboard. I smile as the tiny particles are momentarily suspended in a ray of sunlight that’s disturbing my writing session, in a good way. I cup my hands around it and watch them glow with golden light. It reminds me of myself.

“On the morning of your birth, the sun seemed larger than ever before.” my Mother’s sweet, quiet voice echoes in my ears. “ I saw it coming up on the horizon, huge and round and blood-red. It spread its life-giving light all over the earth and eventually it reached you. It seeped in through my window and into the shadowy room. Then it touched your head and you awoke. So I named you Sunrise and hoped you’d be full of life, laughter and most of all, light.”

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I sigh as I pull off a floral-printed headscarf and a cascade of knotty, tangled brown hair tumbles down my back. My amber streaked, hazel eyes that are usually full of humour and curiosity sparkle as my big flashing smile makes an appearance on my smooth olive-skinned face.

I sit back down to read my emails and idly click the first one that pops up.

Dear Sunrise

My name is Aaminah and I am 11 years old. I wanted to tell you how much you inspire me and how, because of you, I go to school and learn how to write beautifully, like you do. Thank you.

You are the Middle East’s best female activist, that is what we say at my school. All the girls are pleased that you spoke up for their education so I write to you on their behalf too.

You are very brave and you have said what our people have all been too scared to say.

Thank you again and may you be blessed.

Every time a child sends me an email like this is warms my heart so much that I click Reply immediately and begin to type.

Dearest Aaminah

I am so glad that you are able to go to school now, I am certain that one day you will be an amazing writer. It was not just me who helped you, there are many girls like myself campaigning for education. When you are a little older perhaps you will be one of them. Perhaps we will even meet one day. I would like that. Say hi to your classmates for me!

Keep safe and may you also be blessed.

Sunrise

I hover over the send button and press it down. I imagine her delight as she reads my message of hope and shows it to her friends. It makes this risky and sometimes dangerous role that I have taken on all worth it. With a contented smile on my playing at my lips, I prepare to read the next piece of mail.

Sunrise Abdullah

This is a warning. Stop your campaigning or you will suffer the consequences. What you are doing is forbidden. We will stop you because you are a disgrace to us all. How could you abandon our ancient ways for the ways of the West? Empowering women is wrong.

I sit back, my face shocked and expressionless, and stare at the screen. I take a deep breath and scroll down to see the sender. Nothing. Email address? Security protected. “Arrghhhh!” my mood changes to angry and confused.

How can people say that? How can they not see that all people should be equal? Education is a chance that all people should have. A chance to escape poverty and oppression. When you’re educated it makes it easier to change the world. And believe me, there are a lot of things that need changing. In my frenzy of mad and blind rage, I hit Reply once again.

To Whom It May Concern

You are wrong.  A rule might be ancient, but that doesn’t make it right. If you truly believe that empowering women is wrong then tell me why. Now. I demand an answer. Because I am, like you, passionate. I won’t give up without a fight. I don’t care for your threats and promises, I am a peace-maker and I make peace through education.

Sunrise Abdullah

Writer and Girl’s Rights Activist

 

 

A Quote From Gracie Chick In A National Newspaper!

On my blog I aspire to write about the world from different angles, in different styles, from different viewpoints and opinions, to challenge and to support, to make a difference through what I love, which is writing.

I am passionate and inquisitive about the world and everything that goes on in it, good and bad, and so are many other kids and young people across the UK.  That’s why a newspaper called First News has been produced, to quench our thirst for an understanding of the things happening on our planet.

It’s brilliant because it really recognises the fact that informing children is extremely important. After all, we are the next generation. It tells me and the other 2 million readers all about politics, the environment, immigration, events, sport, local issues, world issues, interesting stories, crime, interviews, advice and more.

They also have a website, feel free to check it out if you too are someone who wants to know about the world. You can watch daily news bulletins, find out about being a child reporter, enter competitions, have your say in polls, watch videos that explain things like the Refugee Crisis and make a difference. http://live.firstnews.co.uk/

I regularly visit this website and only this morning I found out all about youth courts, gun crimes in America, a plane crash in South America and children making journeys to school and what dangers they face in different parts of the world. You can comment on all the articles they write too and I often do, as I like to express my opinion.

Also this morning I was reading my weekly newspaper when I came across the ‘Quote Bubble’, the place where they put a comment from one of their readers.  I read it with interest, as I saw it was on Donald Trump. But when I saw the author of the comment I couldn’t believe it. It read:

Quote: First News Reader, Gracie, on Donald Trump:
“I think people voted for him because they wanted change. I wonder what sort of change he will bring?!”

A few days before I had written those very words on their website and now they were in the newspaper for everyone to see. I felt so privileged to have my views published like that and so proud that they had seen them interesting and thought-provoking enough to put in.

Thank you First News!

 

 

Four Birds

4

I hope you like this short story that I wrote. I’m working on my story writing and I do believe it’s slowly improving. This story is like a fable, it has a moral, and the moral is that your parents may make you work hard and learn lots, but they’re doing it because they want to prepare you for life. And they want the best for you, because they love you. Dad and Mum talk to us about this all the time. They are always teaching us things and it’s because they care.

FOUR BIRDS

There once was a family that lived peacefully up in the High Hills. They lived a simple life, in a simple little cottage, on a simple little farm. The children never knew anything about the outside world, but the parents did. Every evening they would sit by the crackling fire, the littlest on the Father’s knee, the other three curled up on the rug. The Father would tell stories of big cities, millions of people, great palaces, schools, brightly coloured markets, beautiful sunsets not blocked out by hills, mountains that touch the sky, majestic forests and exotic animals and oceans that stretch further than the eye can see.

The children listened in awe and one by one they decided that one day they too would see all these wonders. They spoke to their Father about this and he nodded, smiling. “My children,” he began ” I would like nothing more than for you to go out and explore the world, follow your dreams, settle down and help our world to grow.” The children’s eyes grew wide with anticipation. “But,” their Father continued, “but first you must be ready. The world is not just wonderful, it is dangerous too. You must be able to think for yourselves. At the moment you are fully reliant on your Mother and I. Before you go, you must learn and put the effort in. If you do not work hard, you will not be able to go out and adventure.”

The four children walked away, their wise Father’s words resounding in their ears ” You must be able to think for yourselves.”

That night, as the children lay asleep in their warm cosy beds, their Mother and Father sat talking. “Must we make them think for themselves?”, asked their Mother, “Can we not think for them?” ” My dear, the time has come. We cannot think for them always and forever. They must begin now otherwise they will be adults who have no idea how to live. They will always have to rely on someone else, they will never live their lives to the full. Surely that is not what you want for them?” “No,” sniffed the Mother, “I want them to spread their wings and fly.” “Good” smiled the Father “I’m just giving them a little push. That is my job as a Father, to help my children be the best they can be.”

At first the children worked extremely hard, watching and learning from their parents and trying to think for themselves at every opportunity they got. But their Father knew it wouldn’t last long. Slowly, they grew tired and less motivated. Their Father took them aside and reminded them. “Children! How many times have I told you the importance of thinking for yourselves?! You mustn’t keep relying on me and your Mother. It is my role to guide you , but I can’t do everything for you. If you want to go, you must do it for yourself.”

The children felt refreshed and inspired after their Father’s speech and they set about it once again. This time they stuck to it. They learnt more and more and they began to do things for themselves ever oftener.

Their Mother watched them with tears in her eyes, but also pride and joy. Their Father just looked on, content. He rarely had to say anything nowadays.

Eventually the time came when the children were ready to leave. Their parents stood on the hilltop, outside the little cottage, and watched them go. Four birds, flying free.

The Father put his arm around the Mother’s shoulder. “My dear,” he said “our children are off to live their lives the best they can and we have helped them the best we can. They are part of the future and, because we love them, we have made them as ready for it as they possibly could be. They will contribute to a bright and hopeful world.”

THE END

birds