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

Cricket Magazine Fiction and Non-Fiction Stories for Children and Young Teens October 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.
9 期号


the letterbox

Hello! I am new to Chatterbox, but I have been getting Cricket for about a year now. I have three cats and two dogs. My favorite characters in Cricket are Pussywillow (she’s so cute!) and Ladybug. What are your favorite books? I know that probably a billion people have asked that question in the past, but I would like to know. I am always on the lookout for new stories to read. My favorite genres are fiction and historical fiction, though I make exceptions from time to time. Let me know! Capricorn, age 11 California Dear Capricorn, Cricket readers and we bugs have so many favorite books! Look for them in “Favorite First Sentences” (page 31) and “The Letterbox” of this issue; in “Cricket Readers Recommend” in other issues; and online at cricketmagkids.com/ chatterbox. Select “Blab…

the dragon's scales

“THREE YEARS IVEbeen waiting, when Torquil promised he’d return them in three days. I’m not waiting three more days to get back what’s mine!” The dragon punctuated his remarks with a smoky snort and a lashing tail. I sighed. This wasn’t Mr. Finnegan, the leprechaun scheduled to pick up a basket holding a dozen pounds of extra-lucky four-leaf clovers. (My boss, Torquil, had weighed the clovers before he left.) Should’ve looked before opening the door, Althea, I told myself. Not that it mattered. The dragon’s huge, scaly wings looked plenty strong enough to knock down the door (and maybe the whole building) with one flap aimed in the wrong direction. Its claws and teeth were equally impressive. “May I help you?” I’d asked politely, the way I’d been taught. (And in this…

a dragon’s dilemma

Oh, when I was a carnivore,My dinner parties were a bore.Yes, guests would cross my welcome matBut did not dare to stay and chat. No guest would stay the whole meal throughFor fear they’d end up in a stew.Not one would trust me as their host;They thought they’d end up creamed on toast. It’s true I ate a guest or two,But guest ingestion made me blue.For fear I’d have no friends againI became vegetarian. And now my parties are a hit.I don’t miss crunching bones one bit.This dragon now has friends galore,Cuz now I am a veggie-vore!…

the magic gifts

In the beautiful green hills of the Basque Country, three brothers lived together on a little farm. The farm might be small, but it was fertile and well-kept, with fields and an orchard clustered around a trim little house, painted red and white in the Basque style. Every week, one of the brothers would take it in turn to go to market and sell their produce. Depending on the season, it might be tomatoes or apples or peppers or cherries or cheese or grapes or eggs or many other things. One fine market morning, the eldest brother, Eneko, set off with a sack full of fine grapes. Along the road, he met an old lady, who asked him, “So where are you going with your sack?” “To market,” Eneko replied. “And what will you…

yara and the witch queen

I knew the dangers of witchcraft. My parents had told me about the time before I was born, when magic plagued our desert kingdom of Bahati. Untrained witch doctors trying to cure warts ended up paralyzing their patients or turning them into crocodiles. Amateur potion brewers tainted their villages’ water supplies. Warring witch clans cursed each other back and forth, and their poorly aimed spells destroyed houses, burned crops, and scared away the hogs and gazelles that we all needed for food. Magic was capable of nothing but wickedness. That’s why my parents, the king and queen, had outlawed it twelve years ago, banishing all practitioners who were caught. A witch had not been seen in our kingdom for over a decade. Magic had faded into myth, into legend, into whispers…


They sleep, the tops of the mountains and the depths,the headlands and the sources of the streams,all the species of creeping-things that black earth nurtures,the mountain-bred beasts and the genus of bees,the monsters in the ravines of the surging seas,the species of wide-winged birds, they sleep . . . Alcman, who lived in ancient Sparta, was regarded as among the best of the early Greek poets. This fragment of a now-lost larger poem, perhaps about a nighttime festival, was composed around 620 BC and preserved by a Roman author for its interesting vocabulary.…