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

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

November/December 2019

Perhaps no other single publication has inspired generations of readers as CRICKET has. Acclaimed for its high-quality fiction, nonfiction, poetry, and brilliant illustrations, CRICKET delivers intelligent, imaginative content that encourages readers to develop their own, unique creativity. Frequent contests encourage young writers to try their hand at various genres. Grades 4-8

United States
Cricket Media, Inc.
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9 Issues


1 min.
cover and border

“Winter Wonderland” paper sculpture Born in New Jersey, I have always loved playing in the snow whether I’m making a snowman, a snow angel, ice-skating, sledding, or skiing down a mountain as fast as I can. I currently live in the south suburbs of Chicago with my husband, two daughters, and a crazy cat. I still love playing in the snow in the backyard with my girls. There are not many mountains around where I live now, but we try to travel to mountains for skiing as often as we can! I enjoy illustrating snowy scenes, and had a lot of fun making this cover for Cricket. My artwork is primarily in paper, both paper sculpture and cut-paper. The paper sculptures are made from hand-painted and textured papers, which are then cut, torn,…

1 min.
cricket us

CRICKET STAFF Lonnie Plecha Editor Anna Lender Art Director Patrick Murray Designer Carolyn Digby Conahan Staff Artist Deborah Vetter Senior Contributing Editor Julie Peterson Copyeditor Emily Cambias Assistant Editor Adrienne Matzen Permissions Specialist CRICKET ADVISORY BOARD Marianne Carus Founder and Editor-in-Chief from 1972–2012 Kieran Egan Professor of Education, Simon Fraser University, Vancouver Betsy Hearne Professor, University of Illinois, Champaign; Critic, Author Sybille Jagusch Children’s Literature Specialist Linda Sue Park Author Katherine Paterson Author Barbara Scharioth Former Director of the International Youth Library in Munich, Germany Anita Silvey Author, Critic Sandra Stotsky Professor of Education Reform, University of Arkansas, Fayetteville Roger Sutton Editor-in-Chief of The Horn Book Magazine, Critic Ann Thwaite Author, Critic…

8 min.
the letterbox

Dear Cricket, How has everybuggy been lately? I’ve been doing well. I am so excited for Thanksgiving and Christmas and winter! Ladybug, do you have any good tips for snowball fights? This sounds unbelievable, but in my area we got two inches of snow last winter. Brrr! Cricket, I think you should do a soccer comic soon. Here is a haiku for everyone: A bright moonlight Shining through a dark sky Just black and white (Pussywillow may cry.) Muffin, what is your favorite drink? I like eggnog the best. Emerson Enbysk, age 10 University Place, Washington Dear Emerson, Try to find a spot of cover where you can make an advance supply of snowballs to be ready for the fight. And Muffin favors English breakfast tea. We love your haiku. Moonlight and snowballs! Ladybug Dear Cricket, My grandma got me your magazine for Christmas,…

5 min.
yuliya’s fawn

LONG, LONG AGO on the edge of the lonely Siberian taiga, there lived a man and wife who yearned for a child. One spring there came a vicious storm. Snow and ice lashed their snug little cabin. As the chimney chuffed out smoke, the woman huddled by an empty cradle on the hearth and cried to her husband, “If I cannot have a child to love, surely my heart will crumble like a dry crust of bread.” “Let us go to bed with hope, dear wife. You never know what dawn may bring.” In the morning light, the small meadow round the cabin glistened in the cold sun. The husband trudged through the woods to a nearby pond and settled on his stool to fish through the ice. When he heard the…

1 min.
the fawn

Grandma found her and rang for us to come and in the clatter of dropped bowls and spoons and the scrape of chairs we hurried to see the fawn hidden in the hydrangeas. Her head was turned, her wet nose tucked beneath one long ruddy leg, tightly curled on a bed of crushed milky blooms. We leaned in close, our hands on our knees, yearning to stroke her round skull and spotted fur. Her wide ears fluttered, this way and that, attentive to our whispers. Grandma said the mother was foraging and would soon return to nurse. A spiced breeze blew and the hydrangeas nodded to the singing bees and we bowed bewitched by liquid eyes black, curious, and unafraid.…

12 min.
the last kirin

IN A TIME long past, when the world was young and legendary creatures still walked the land, there was a girl named Kiyo, the daughter of the emperor. Every morning, as soon as the sun had risen, Kiyo would go strolling in the palace woods, singing to the flowers and breathing in the fresh scent of morning dew on the grass. Among the animals, she had many friends, including a bushy-tailed tanuki named Ringo and a red-crowned crane named Nami. Whenever Kiyo needed someone to talk to, Nami listened, her eyes peaceful and wise, while Ringo pretended to listen, though he was actually picking Kiyo’s pockets for apple slices. One day, after her walk, Kiyo came to her father at breakfast with confusion on her face. “Father,” she said. “Why was the…