The Many

Adventures
of Cass
Sitting under the dimmed lights,
all tucked away in her bunk bed
Cass closed her eyes, getting
ready for her next adventure.
While waiting for the story to
begin, she was transported to a
new place.

The walls were no

longer green and
white but lined with
jewels. She stood in
the middle of a
palace. Covered by
soft blankets and a
cold breeze from her
window, she was safe.
 Cass had lots of books in her room packed
neatly onto shelves. Her mom made her dust
them often as they sat alone soaking in the sun,
collecting a layer of forgetfullness.

The words seemed to dance off of the page as she

flipped through the colourful pages. However, her
favourite stories were never found in books but those
that were formed from someone's special mind.
 It was her dad's voice that spoke
soft but firm. She listened with
eager ears to hear the next place
she would explore. The words were
like a gift; not only was she on a
new journey, but her hero had just
returned from one of his own.

All across the Globe, or as

mom called it, the United
States, he brought back stories
and made them into something
new, crafted with love and joy.
 At school, writing was
hard and felt almost as
bad as the chores I had to
do at home. The only
stories I liked were the
ones my dad told me.
Those with far-off places
or me saving the day in a
fantastic new outfit we
crafted with our
imaginations.
Often, big words
confused my mind and
made me feel like I
needed a compass to
solve their riddles.
Cass was always
courageous in her dads
stories, but reading
often made me feel
small and like my words
were hidden.

 Each night there was a new story, but

as Cass grew, so did the ideas in her
head. Would she one day be able to
create her own stories filled with
mysticism and wonder, just like her
father?

However, when she moved to a new school,

an enormous boulder quickly fell into her
way. Everyone was dressed the same, they
must have liked Christmas a lot because
they made us wear green and red, on our
toes all the way up to our head.

They read quickly and shared their

stories with wit. But Cass sat in the
corner, with no words in her head. She
no longer felt like she belonged in any
stories. The boulder was stuck, and
her voice could not pass.
 Ph
on
ics
Not long after she arrived at the
Christmas-coated school, a weird
present was placed into her hands.
The box was blue and white, and
the words on the front looked like
symbols from the lands created in
her stories. Written in bold
letters, it spelled out P-H-O-N-I-C-
S.

The words buzzed around like

bees in the flower bed. And I
searched for understanding like
an explorer in a cave. In my mind,
it was like a game of scrabble
that I could not seem to win. Who
knew presents could be so bad!


We repeated the letters in class like a string of

Christmas lights. Slowly but surely, Cass learned how
you could sound out the same letter in different
ways.

As she learned how important these letters

could be, she began to uncover her words
that were once covered by the boulder and
hidden from the sun. One special day Cass's
teacher showed her a book by an author
that rhymes with her last name.

Romana was wild and adventurous, and

she was an explorer, just like Cass! For
the first time, she found a book where
the words lit up her mind as her dad's
stories did.
 Cass went home that afternoon with
her new book, excited to show her
whole family the adventures of
Romana. Her dad came into her room
that night, ready to tell her a new tale.
But Cass had other plans in mind and
decided it was her turn to share a
story of her own.

She read the pages of her book with

a smile on her face. It was the first
time she had truly felt connected to
a character like this.

Her dad always created stories

that made her feel like she
belonged. But as she read the
pages in her own little castle,
she saw herself in the words and
finally understood all the riddles
that reading and writing had in
store for her on the next big
adventure.
 THIS BOOK
BELONGS TO:
Cassandra