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

cover and border

“Try Something New” acrylic and pencil on paper Ingrid Kallick is an artist and writer. She learned folk art from her grandparents, who emigrated from Norway, Bohemia, and Ukraine. Rumor has it that she was abducted by fairies as a child. After returning, she became an artist, with her first publication in American Girl magazine at age thirteen. She wandered the woods near her home with a sketchbook and field guides for plants, birds, and fungi, and later studied sculpture and graphic design at the University of Illinois. She has done art for magazines, murals, books, stage sets, and scientific visualization. Ingrid mainly works in acrylic, but also uses gouache, colored pencil, oil, and digital painting techniques.…

the letterbox

Dear Everybuggy, Hi! I know, I know, you’ve heard this a seption (1024 ) times, but I LOVE your magazine! I just have something to say (all from February 2020). Ladybug, you are correct! Hockey is very rough. Just don’t punch-fight. Wear protective gear, and you’ll be fine, Muffin. The more protective gear, the better! Slug-go, George, and Tail, here are a pad so your slime won’t freeze and bodysuits so you don’t get ice burn. George and Tail, do not wear dancing outfits when you play hockey. It’s very dangerous! I hope this will make it better to play hockey. Happy skating! Rhianna Probst, age 11 Aurora, Colorado P.S. Ladybug, can you fly? Can I fly? You should see me! Love, Ladybug Dear Cricket, Even though I just started reading your magazines, I love the stories. My…

the cat with no meow

“JESSALYN, ARE YOU trying to merge with your chair at the cellular level?” Mrs. Lockwood asked me in her low, croaky voice from the front of the classroom. Twenty heads turned in my direction, to witness whatever cellular merging was. My plan to disappear during English period today clearly wasn’t working. Even so, I sank deeper in my seat. “You’re after Esha,” Mrs. Lockwood informed me. Within seconds, Esha was standing at the front of the class with her poster turned backward. She seemed to be looking forward to her presentation, which didn’t surprise me considering how much Esha liked to talk. Me, I’d been dreading this assignment ever since Mrs. Lockwood said we needed to share something no one else in the sixth grade knew about us. I’d never given a presentation in…

katerina and the bright falcon

THERE ONCE LIVED a prosperous landholder who had three grown daughters. One day, when the last of the snow lay in little piles beneath the cherry trees, he prepared to set out for the fair. “I am off,” he said, shrugging into his heavy coat and stepping into his fur-lined boots. “Oh, Father,” cried his eldest daughter, who lingered before the fire. “I beg of you, bring me a length of fine cloth from which I might fashion a new gown.” “Aye,” the second eldest chimed in. “I have had nothing new to wear for such a long time.” The eldest nodded. “Even my finest gown grows worn and threadbare.” Their father chuckled as he pulled on his furred cap, for well he knew how these two elder daughters loved flattery and finery and primping…

winter

The frost is here,The fuel is dear,And woods are sear,And fires burn clear,And frost is hereAnd has bitten the heel of the going year. Bite, frost, bite!You roll up away from the lightThe blue woodlouse and the plump dormouse,And the bees are stilled and the flies are killed,And you bite far into the heart of the house,But not into mine. Bite, frost, bite!The woods are all the searer,The fuel is all the dearer,The fires are all the clearer,My spring is all the nearer,You have bitten into the heart of the earth,But not into mine.…

forfeit

GALILEE PAUSED AT the large outcropping of rock lining one wall of the canyon rising before her. Among the sharp cliffs and sparse foliage, there was no sound or sign of movement. No trespassing. It is the law and part of the ongoing treaty. But she had already gone too far and must now finish it. She panted, weary from a half-day’s travel, and tried not to panic. The respect of borders was a key element to maintaining the peace between Centaur and Dwarf. But even territories must be breached when one had to save the life of the herd’s mating goad, especially if she was one’s own mother. Her gaze darted about the landscape in search of Dwarves. None, as yet. Her muffled hoofbeats thumped against sandstone as she hurried through the narrow canyon. Her…