My chapter book, Huckleberry Heart, won a first place Royal Palm Literary Award at the Florida Writer’s Association’s annual banquet last night. Chapter books are geared for children 6-8 years old. These stories are two-fold: they are read to youngsters who then learn to read them on their own and hopefully to others.
Here are the first two chapters of Huckleberry Heart!
GOOD NEWS
Paddy wakes with the summer sun.
He slides out of bed.
He pulls on his brace.
He hops to the window.
He sniffs a big sniff.
What does he smell? Huckleberries!
Paddy can’t run like other rabbits.
He can’t race down the stairs.
His leg brace is creaky.
Ten creaks for ten stairs.
Paddy hops into the kitchen.
His mother is there.
Baby sister Clare is there.
They are eating honey on toast.
“The huckleberries are ripe!”
“Grandpa Irl and I need to pick them!”
“Breakfast comes first,” his mother says.
“Then you can meet Grandpa Irl.”
Paddy gobbles his honey toast.
He gulps a glass of milk.
He is ready to go.
It is not far to Red Rose Cottage.
Paddy stands at his door.
He can see the chimney.
He is six and can go by himself.
He smiles about that.
Clare wobbles over to Paddy.
She grabs his brace.
“No, Clare. You are too small.
You have to grow first.”
Paddy takes his berry bucket.
He tugs Clare’s bunny-ear.
He whispers to her.
“I’ll bring you back a huckleberry.”
Paddy’s mother and Clare wave good-bye.
BAD NEWS
Paddy follows the path into the forest.
He smells pine needles.
He hears crows cawing.
He crosses Kingsbury Creek on stepping-stones.
He sees a chipmunk.
It chatters at his creaky brace.
Paddy sees Red Rose Cottage.
He climbs three steps.
He knocks on the door.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
The yellow door opens.
It is Grandma Anne.
“Good Morning, Paddy.
You are up bright and early.”
“Grandma, Grandma, where’s Grandpa?
The huckleberries are ripe!
It is time to pick them.
Look! I brought my berry bucket.”
Grandma Anne steps outside.
“I am sorry, Paddy.
Grandpa Irl cannot pick berries today.
He does not feel well.
He went back to bed.
There will be other days to pick berries.
But not today.”
Paddy turns from the door.
He goes down the steps.
Three creaks for three steps.
He crosses Kingsbury Creek.
Paddy plops down in a patch of bluebells.
“Grandpa and I always pick huckleberries together.”
Tears drip into his berry bucket.
Drip! Drip! Drip!
Paddy looks into the empty bucket.
He wipes away his tears.
“I have an idea!”
Every Day Writer 
Congratulations on your award Anne ! I regret not checking out your blog much earlier. Oh, well, better late than never!
LikeLike