Cricket Magazine Fiction and Non-Fiction Stories for Children and Young Teens

“Whale of a Day” digital (Procreate) Born in Taiwan and raised in Yamaguchi, Japan, illustrator Jui Ishida studied art at Art Center College of Design in California. The winner of several awards in both illustration and graphic design, Jui has also gained the appreciation of young fans through her artwork in such books as God Created by Mark Francisco Bozzuti-Jones, The Silver Moon by Jack Prelutsky, and Animal Stories: Heartwarming True Tales from the Animal Kingdom by Jane Yolen. Jui loves rainy days, especially since it’s a rare occasion in Long Beach, California, where she lives. She also enjoys gardening, fixing things, and cooking (also eating) yummy food.…

My Dear Dreamers of Other Worlds, I felt the need to write a shout-out to the many splenderific people frequenting this delightful publication in the November/December 2021 issue. Cora, thank you for the fact about pangolins! Did you know that snails can have over twenty thousand teeth? I wasn’t even aware they had teeth till I happened across that! Silverfeather, you have great taste in books. Mystic Moon, you have my respect for playing the violin. Many instruments I’d like to play. Violin is high up there, but I have only learned the piano, which I love. Kylie, have you read The Emily trilogy by L. M. Montgomery or The Tillerman Cycle by Cynthia Voight? Also try Inkheart books. I am utterly spiffed whenever I find a bookmark that’s more than an…

SALMA PICKED HER way along the shore, holding her nose against its rotten-egg smell. Her flip-flops made a loud squelching sound. As her foot slid on slimy green goo, she flailed her arms to steady herself, but landed with a splat. With a groan, Salma cupped her dirty hands around her face, making sure not to get mud in her hair. She squinted until the scene almost resembled a paradise—like the one she pictured when her mom said they would get to live by the water. A paradise with rippling waves and sand. Seashells and dolphins. A magical place to help counteract the sadness of leaving her friends and her home in the city. But when she dropped her hands, she again saw the gloomy warehouses and factories surrounding the bay. She also…

What was t hat yellow two-wheeled contraption flying down the streets of Oakland, California, in 1895—scaring horses and making pedestrians dodge for safety? It was a new-fangled bicycle, also known as a “wheel.” Bicycles with chains had only been around for about ten years, but they were rapidly becoming popular. Daring men, and a few brave women, rode them. There were even bicycle clubs where “wheelmen” gathered to talk about their one-speed, two-wheeled marvels. They were just a fad, of course, not likely to replace a good horse and buggy. Still, for a young butcher like twenty-nine-year-old George Loher, there was a good deal of pride in the sight of his Stearns Model A Yellow Fellow bicycle. It had cost one hundred dollars—a lot of money when most folks earned less than two…

I’M SITTING IN the back of a Chevy van somewhere in Nebraska, staring at the meanest-looking weather I’ve ever seen. “See that, Emily?” Dad points as he speeds toward the greenish underbelly of a monster cloud. “That’s the laboratory for a tornado.” “Really?” I gulp down a throat full of fear. Actually, I should be used to the T word. Dad and I have been looking for tornadoes all week. He opens his window now, hangs his head out, and searches the sky. Then he points across a wheat field. I follow his finger and see a ragged chunk, dark as midnight, extend from the monster cloud. “What is it?” I ask, trying not to sound worried. “A tornado forming,” Pop murmurs, sounding awe-struck. “You’re kidding, right?” I lean toward the window, holding my breath. This…

Part 1 Rosica’s Perspective OF ALL THAT I lost when we moved to America, my personality is what I missed most. Not lost in a forever kind of way, perhaps just misplaced, because after I had a friend, it began to show up again. In Mexico, I knew the language well enough to easily understand and make jokes. And though I had missed my dad, who was thousands of miles away from us working long hours and sending home his money, I was in the habit of laughing hard and often, with my friends as well as Mom, Abuela, and my brothers. Then, when I was seven, we moved to North Carolina to join Dad. It was good to see him every morning and every evening. He was so happy to…