My son has always been a lover of books. Before he could read independently he would sit with us for hours as we read to him book after book, going on many different adventures. He would memorize the words of his favorite ones so that he could “read” along with us. The past few months I have been buckling down and writing my novel as well as keeping up my blog. He loves to read my posts, especially my Fiction Friday stories. “I want to write a story,” he said one day. I smiled at this thought. He would be an amazing writer just knowing the imagination he has. “You should! Want to try to write one for Fiction Friday?” I asked. He beamed and immediately got to work. So today I’m proud to present a Friday Fiction written by my son. Hope you enjoy!
I remember the day my mom brought home the lovable, bright orange stuffed tiger. She said she got it from a mysterious old lady at an antique shop downtown. She always liked antiques and only picked the best ones to buy. I looked at the tiger curiously. It seemed from the look in its eyes that it was alive! Was that a wink? No, we all know that is silly, right?
That night, I woke up to a loud CRASH! BAM! As soon as I opened my eyes, I saw a monster lying on the green carpet of my bedroom. I was startled at the sight and knew exactly why, MY TIGER WAS GONE! Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the small orange stuffed tiger and he was beating up the monster! The tiger looked at me and I quickly pretended to fall back asleep but I am not a very good actor. “Excuse me! Are you up?,” the tiger said. “If you are, HELP ME!” I jumped out of bed not even questioning if it was a dream or not. Truth is, it wasn’t a dream. After the battle, I asked the tiger what his name was. “A stuffed animal’s name is earned and has to be given by my best friend,” he said. “I never had a name before.” I knew that I had to come up with something great.
That morning my mom took one look at the stuffed tiger and was shocked. “Take care of this more, he’s very valuable,” she said as she was gracefully sowing him back together. While she was sowing, I ran upstairs to my bedroom to grab my homework before school. The papers were recked during the fight last night and all over the floor. I picked the pieces up and left for school. At school my teacher asked for my homework and I decided to tell her everything that happen. “PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE NOW!” she yelled. That day my mom had a talk with me about “lying”. She said she loved my imagination but we need to be honest. Grownups never understand! The next morning I had scratches on my face from another battle. My mom asked, “Why do you have scratches on your face?” I told her and she smiled, shaking her head. “You have some imagination there, you should write a book!”
The years went by and the tiger and I went on amazing adventures until one day, we went up against the monster boss. His name? Well we don’t no how to speak monster but it sounded like a nightmare. We were fighting for what felt like days but we finally beat him working as a team. I was so out of breath, I tried to say something but all that came out was, “Tiggy.” That’s how he finally got his name.