Jane and I recently talked about - wrote about in emails - my interest in writing, in storytelling. I told her about this, probably my very first short story. I knew I had posted it on my blog a long time ago, so the other day I went looking for it.
I wrote this story in 1948, when I was eight. Most of the stories I wrote as a child, have to do with exploration, going far away, or in this instance wanting to go deep into the forest. Most kids probably love the idea of stretching their wings, exploring, dreaming of what lies ahead
Many of the fairy tales at that time had to do with going too far into the forest, Goldilocks, Hansel and Gretel, and so on. Reading this, it looks like I had learned that this was not a good idea. I can also see the kind of child I was. I never wanted to make my parents worried.
I'm smiling as I read it again and find I had no idea that periods are a good for clarity and understanding.
I like that, at the end of the story, I actually wrote - The End - My initials, IB - And the year - 1948.
Little Lisa Little Anna
Little Lisa lived in a little red house by the edge of the forest. Anna was her best friend, she lived in a small cottage a bit into the forest. Anna and Lisa wanted to go a bit further into the forest, but their mommies and daddies didn't want them to go very far into the forest because there could be very dangerous animals there that they perhaps would think were kind and perhaps they wouldn't come home to mommy and daddy and think how sad that would be if the little girls didn't come home in time for dinner and think if Lisa and Anna would never see mommy and daddy again.
The End. -- IB 1948.