By Sarah I. Jones

As I open the book

My story begins.

A boy in a hole

And then it ends.

plotholes

I sigh as I read

This horrible start.

I think and I think

But I know in my heart

There’s more to this tale

Than could ever be told.

But how to begin?

Before I get old.

I pick at my story

And tear out the start.

Poking and prodding,

I cut out the heart.

My story’s now lifeless,

But, hey, it is done.

No, I can’t leave it hanging

When it’s only begun.

There’s a tear in my pages

And a rip at the seam.

Oh, blast it all, story!

I’m going to scream!

But wait, I can fix this,

For all that it needs

Is a dab of ideas,

And a bit of a dream.

I can fix up that ending

And fill in that space.

A hole in the plotline

Would be a disgrace!

I’ll add in some fantasy

And throw in some art.

All it needs now

Is my pencil’s lead heart.

A drop of the pen,

A touch of a key,

That hole in the plot

Means nothing to me!

Insert this storyline,

Throw out that plot,

This hole in the page

Will be naught but a spot.

An image of grandeur

Is shimmering through;

I imagine the sights

And think of the view!

The light of ideas

And the twinkle of dreams

Shines out through the letters

And glows from the seams.

Enough with the writing,

The hole is now mended.

And, as all stories must,

My tale’s now ended.


sarah-jones

Fifteen-going-on-sixteen-year-old Sarah Jones lives mainly in the real world of SoCal, and her imagination is always wildly active. Living life for her Creator is one of her greatest pleasures. Between her awesome-crazy brothers, 24/7 homeschooling, and just having fun with her friends, she never has any time to be bored with life. Even so, she still dreams of fantastic adventures and will quickly eat up a good fantasy book or adventure series. However, when she can’t find a book to fascinate herself with, Sarah will take to the pen and paper (or the computer) and create her own world to disappear into.