A candle glows across the snow,
Casting a bright and frosty glow,
On the front of an igloo, snow packed tight,
To keep its penguin warm at night.
Inside the igloo, smells waft and bake,
Scents of lemon, fish, and birthday cake.
Nobody cares about V. No, really. That’s why I’m angry today. Nobody cares about the letter V. Only me, becouse my name is Vanessa Valerie Veracrest. Poor letter V. I hate every letter except for innocent letter V. Nobody cares about it. Really! Just today, my teacher Mrs. Redfeather was having us recite the alphabet, and she even SKIPPED the letter V! Just like that. “Q, R, S, T, U, W, X.” When I told her that she had skipped it, she said “Did I?” How careless. My friend Mary Ugle says that V isn’t very important. But why? It’s not as common as A is, but still, why doesn’t anybody respect it? “It doesn’t have a very good sound to it,” Mary said. “Vee. Vee. It sounds like a detention. The letter M has a better sound than that. Em. Em.” I think vee is a beautiful sound. Vee. It sounds like a name. Vee Taylor Green. That is one beautiful name. But I love mine just the same. Vanessa Valerie Veracrest. Veracrest kind of sounds like a brand of toothpaste or mattresses or something. But Ugle sounds like Bugle. So I guess it doesn’t really matter. But I’m getting off subject.
Just this morning, I made a “V petition” and asked everyone, even Mrs. Readfeather, to sign it. Nobody did. There was only a “Vanessa” printed in the middle of the page. It looked lonely. So I signed everyone else’s missing name around it.
“What’s the matter with you?” Mary Ugle said to me at recess. “You’re going crazy about old letter V! Just agree that V isn’t actually quite as special as M is and get on with the softball game!” That did it. I was now officially mad.
So, honored principal Mr. Jinkins, that is why I yelled at Mrs. Redfeather and stomped on Mary Ugle’s foot on purpose.
-Vanessa Valeria Veracrest
“Okay, Pardo,” my sister yawned. “Are you sure? A story so early in the morning?” My eyes grew wide. “Yes, Maria. You tell better stories than anyone else I know.” I spoke the truth. Maria should be a storyteller like grandma. “All right then,” Maria began. “This is a story about a young lady in Switzerland.” I nodded. “Begin,” I urged.
“Miles away in the country of Switzerland, there was a young lady named Sophie. Sophie Mills. This Sophie looked very boring. She always wore the same kind of faded red blouse like your cousin Rosa has, and always the same kind of old faded blue jeans like you always wear, with holes in the knees. She wore these clothes every day. Her hair was always pulled into the same tangly pony-tail. The same old straw hat sat on her head. Sophie looked very uninteresting. But she was not. Inside, she was erupting with ideas, inventions, shapes, sizes, color, photographs, memories, and firecrackers! She wanted to save the spotted hyenas! She had read her share of fabulous books and wrote her share of fabulous essays! Everyone was her friend. But the important thing about Sophie was that ever since she was about your age, Pardo, she has been the chosen Empress of Sunlight.”
I inturrupted my sister. “Who chose her?” Maria grinned a silly grin. “The sun, of course!” she answered. “Was she like the Keeper of Laughter?” I asked again. “Yes, except the Keeper of Laughter is old, and the Empress of Sunlight is young, and the Keeper of Laughter is from the Bahamas and Sophie is Swiss. Oh, and Sophie doesn’t keep the sun in her windows! That would be silly!”
“As the Empress of Sunlight’s job, she had to clean the sunlight. Or else it would be full of comets and planets and moon dust and lots of other things from where the sun comes from. So Sophie Mills pulled on her rubber gloves, just like the ones grandma has, and she filtered all of that sulight the very first morning she was an Empress.”
I coughed. “How do you filter sunight? With a big net? Or a coffee filter?”
Maria smiled and nodded. “More like a big net. One made of rope, like the ones you climb on in gym class at your school. The ones that burn your hands. But this net is as soft as silk. All the sunlight goes through and the other things stay behind. This is also why no aliens come floating onto our planet like in those movies you are always watching. Sophie also has the great Sundial.”
I laughed. “A sundial? Like the one in the park?” Maria smiled. “Yes, exactly. Only instead of all of the lines, there’s words. Countries. One says United States of America, another says Canada, one says Mexico, where we live. When the great Sundial points to Japan, Sophie fliters the sunlight for Japan, and when the sundial is pointing to Egypt, she fliters the sunlight for Egypt. Without the great Sundial, we would never get our light at the right time! Nobody would. Do you understand, Pardo?” I nodded. “But that cannot be true! Nobody has a sundial like that!” Maria breathed in. “Yes, someone does! Sohpie Mills does! The Empress of Sunlight does! Just go to her home in Switzerland and see! It’s there right now! In fact,” Maria pointed at the sunlight beginning to sprout from my window. “Sophie is using her fliter and her great Sundial to get our light to us this minute!
“Why did the sun choose Sophie Mills, you ask? From the moment tiny Sophie was born, the great Sun looked at Sophie’s tiny perfect hands and feet, and said ‘Sophie Mills shall be known as my Empress. My Empress she will be. Don’t set her to work right away. Start her off at 10 years old. Good luck, little Sophie!’ and the wonderful Sun even came down and welcomed her. He gave her the powers of heat and light.
“But now, we must stop explaining and get on with the story!” Maria blurted. “This is too much explaining! You get the idea, Si?” I grinned. “Si.” I answered.
“One day, in fact, just last week, Sophie realized that she could not be the Empress by herself! What if she needed to visit somewhere else away from all of her tools, or what if she grew ill? She nedded some helpers. Anyways, she was too kind to take all of the credit for taking care of the sun! She needed helpers, young ones that would not get tired or lose interest. Three was enough. So she picked out three hardworking children to be her Helpers of Sunlight. She picked two Dutchesses and a Duke. One Dutchess lived in Norway. Her name was Louise Maria. She was very hardworking. The next two were from Mexico. The Duke and Dutchess. The Dutchess was the Duke’s older sister. Their names were Maria and Pardo.”
I paused, excited. “Me? Me and you?” Maria laughed and smiled. “Of course! Of course! Of course they were me and you! I even have our headsets in the closet!” My wonderful sister opened the hat closet, and sitting on the hat rack were two crowns strung from beads and bottlecaps! In Maria’s special letter beads on the front read “Duke of Sunlight”, and “Dutchess of Sunlight”! “Are we really Dukes and Dutchesses?” I asked, pulling my crown over my ears. “Yes, Pardo!” Maria shouted. “Yes, yes, yes! I even have a fliter and a great Sundial in my closet so we can rule right here in our apartment! Come on, follow me! The adventures are just beginning!”