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Egg of the Dragon I Student Ehsaas Agarwal I Online Creative Writing Program

By admin in Creative Writing, Original Stories on May 28, 2024

An original story written, by our student Ehsaas Agarwal.

Ehsaas is 11 years old young writer from Hyderabad. We are proud to have him as a student of the Little Writers Program, an Online Creative Writing Program using Applied Storytelling & Theatre tools under the mentorship of Trainer Khusshbo Chokhaani. We congratulate Ehsaas for this exemplary true self-expression.

Egg of the Dragon

It was a regular hot summer day in the palace garden. The priests were plucking Marigolds and adorning the idol. At the far end of the garden were small, beautiful nasturtium flowers. The smell of Champa wafted through the air. The delicate dahlias were feeling soft like the surrounding grass. The sound of honey bees was buzzing through the air as they sucked nectar from the sunflowers. The strong smell of jasmine enchanted everything around. The blue and violet hydrangea were doting the background. The shedding and rustling sounds made it a beautiful and ideal day.

Hidden behind the bushes was the biggest threat known to bees, Keshav Nair. He was the oldest prince of the dynasty. His brown complexion and sharp black eyes could lock onto any target. He was 15 but short for his age. He was powerful. He was going to catch a bee but got distracted by his younger brother Dev Nair. Dev was born dyslexic and lacked in studying. He was 12 years old but taller than Keshav. He had a sturdy body, strong arms, and a keen eye. Together they made a good team.

Keshav wasn’t very kind or compassionate. His ruthless eyes threatened all around.  His father wanted him to be a warrior. Whereas, Keshav didn’t like wars. He was fine with threatening, but not killing. Dev hated war as well. He wanted peace and justice. He only took archery lessons to please his father. Even though he was forced, he was excellent in archery. “You’re the Apollo of the modern age!” people used to praise him with this sentence.

Their kingdom, Udaynagar, was about to get raided over the dragon prince’s egg. Legend has it that in the oldest days, the people of Udaynagar stole the egg and supposedly destroyed it. Now the summer nymphs were mad and started invading Udaynagar.

“What’s that sound?” Dev asked groggily. “Just the fighting outside for the egg. Go back to sleep Dev”, said Keshav. Next day, Dev did his favorite thing in the morning, which was to steal tarts from the local baker. On the way to the shop through the vent, he found a massive blue rock blocking his way through. “Huh” he thought, “That’s an awful large rock blocking my path.” He completely forgot about the tart and took the rock home. He kept it in the attic of his room. “Keshav, come look what I found.” When Keshav came, his jaw hit the floor. “Dev, do you know what we are looking at?” Keshav questioned. “A glowing rock”, Dev replied. “Gosh ignorant as always”, Keshav muttered. “It’s that egg that started this war!” We need to return it now to the nymphs”, shouted Keshav.

But father told us not to leave the right wing of the palace.” Said Dev with sadness. “Then we will sneak through. Ok here’s the plan, we sneak out with the egg and get to the nymph kingdom, give back the egg, and stop the war,” suggested Keshav. They tried the plan but were caught almost immediately.

They improvised and thought of running away during the evening walk. When the time came, they ran into the forest. The egg was safe in Dev’s satchel. Right now, Dev had something more precious than life itself. There was one problem, if the egg was so precious, then robbers would come and steal the egg. The brothers hadn’t planned this far and were scared because the robbers were trained professionals and had weapons.  Then Keshav gave a completely crazy idea. “Pull out the egg Dev.” Keshav urged. “What!” Dev started to protest. “Just do it”, Keshav said annoyingly. “Fine,” Dev said and pulled out the egg.

Instantly, the robbers turned to stone. “That was awesome!” Dev exclaimed. Next, they crossed the treacherous ice valley where the egg suddenly stopped glowing. At the dawn of winter solstice, the boys reached the nymph kingdom.

They requested an audience with the king. The king was delighted. He called off all attacks. The brother felt glee and like a giant weight was lifted off their shoulders. “I guess people who strive to succeed and are desperate to do it always win,” Dev said. “I think so too”. Keshav sighed in relief.

Leave your valuable comments to encourage our students to innovate, explore, and express more.

Connect with us: +91 9166488881/notjusttales09@gmail.com to enroll your 6 to 15-year-old in our Public Speaking, Theatre, Drama, Storytelling & Creative Writing, online or offline program in Jaipur.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Poetry Collection #17 I Student Suchita Gandham I International Students Online Creative Writing Program

By admin in Creative Writing, Poetry, Poetry Collection for Kids & By Kids on May 28, 2024

An original collection of different style of poems written by our international online student Suchita Gandham from Canada.

Suchita is 12 years old, a young artist from Mississauga, Canada. We are proud to have her as a student of the Online Personality Development Program using Applied Storytelling, Public Speaking, Theatre, and Creative Writing tools under the mentorship of Facilitator Khusshbo Chokhaani. We congratulate Suchita for this exemplary true self-expression.

Poetry Collection #17 by Suchita Gandham

Moisturizer (Couplet Style Poem)

Expensive moisturizer, oh moisturizer

You are the best skin riser

 

But you have a cost which is

Higher Than my car tier

 

You can make my skin softer, Also

You can make my bank balance lower

 

Shall I pay for my classes or

Shall I pay for your extra taxes

 

Will I use you in the future or

Will I not use you in the future?

 

Sometimes I think you can make my nails softer

And that’s why I gave you the name The Cost Riser

 

Sunday (List Style Poem)

On Sundays, my world takes a gentle spin! Because…..

 

Mornings unfurl with a sleepy yawn

As sunlight whispers of a dawn

A pot of coffee thick and bold

Awakens my senses which warms the cold

As I share my breakfast with the ones I dear

With laughter and love, oh! So sincere

Music drifts on the soft Sunday breeze

And I dance to the music with ease

I bath in my bathtub like a fish

And my mom haunting after me with dish

My dad and his black glasses are like crabby cat

And me with a baseball bat on my hat

A simple meal, shared with love,

Blessings abundant, from above.

No rush, no haste, just calm and still,

A peaceful moment for the time to fill.

Afternoon nap, a blissful retreat,

Drifting away, in dreams so sweet.

Evening rises and my  painting skies with  divine,

A canvas of peace, where worries gently unwind.

And as the stars begin to gleam,

Sunday whispers, with just a dream.

Gratitude to my parents who are my friends,

In my world of Sunday, where joy never ends.

And that’s how my Sundays take a gentle spin

 

School (Free Verse Style Poem)

In halls of learning, minds ignite,

Where dreams take flight, in morning light.

Each classroom whispers secrets old,

As stories of the wise are told.

The bell’s sweet chime,

a call to learn, In every heart,

a flame shall burn.

Within these walls, young souls are shaped,

In knowledge’s embrace, they’re draped.

From desks adorned with scribbled lore,

To libraries vast, where minds explore.

Teachers guide with gentle hand,

In quest for wisdom they do stand.

In labs, where science sparks the mind,

Art studios, where colors bloom,

In strokes of passion, banishing gloom.

Sports fields echo with cheers of might,

Where teamwork shines in victory’s light.

The cafeteria’s bustling hum,

Where friendships form, a constant drum.

In every corner, stories unfurl,

Of challenges faced, of dreams to twirl.

Amidst the laughter, amidst the tears,

The journey through these formative years.

With every lesson, every test,

We strive to be our very best.

For in this haven, we are bound,

In unity, our dreams are found.

So here’s to school, in prose and rhyme,

A beacon bright through space and time.

For in its halls, we find our way,

And forge the path to a brighter day.

 

Cooking (Free Verse Style Poem)

In kitchens warmth, where aromas dance

A symphony of flavors, a culinary trance.

With aprons tied and knives in hand,

We embark on a journey, a taste wonderland.

From sizzling pans to simmering pots,

We craft our creations, connecting the dots.

Spices blend in harmony, a delightful blend,

As recipes unfold, a story to lend.

With flour dusting fingertips, we knead,

Bread rising, a testament to our feed.

In the alchemy of heat and time

Ingredients merge, a savory mime.

From gourmet feasts to humble fare

Cooking’s artistry, beyond compare.

Nourishing body, soul, and heart

In every dish, a work of culinary art.

With each chop, each stir, a labor of love,

Transcending mere sustenance, rising above.

Around the table, we gather, we share,

In the simple act of cooking, we care.

For in these moments, bonds are formed,

In kitchens adorned, memories adorned.

With laughter, chatter, and clinking of wine,

Cooking brings us together, divine.

So let the pots simmer, let the oven glow,

In the world of cooking, let creativity flow

For in its embrace, we find delight,

A gastronomic journey, day or night.

 

Leave your valuable comments for encouraging our students to innovate, explore and express more.

Connect with us: +91 9166488881/notjusttales09@gmail.com to enroll your 6 to 15 years old child in our Public Speaking, Theatre, Drama, Storytelling & Creative Writing, online or offline program in Jaipur.

 

 

About Us

At Not Just Tales we dive deeper into our Indian cultural and heritage tales like Folklore, Jatakas, Panchatantra, Mythology, Hitopadesa to find solutions to our modern day challenges.
“Stories that you tell yourself either builds you or breaks you. Choose the right story for you and others. What story would you like to be remembered as? ”

Khusshbo

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