The Secret Library
Short Story Contest
A just-for-fun short story contest for young writers, ages 9-15.
Congratulations to our Winners!
Ages 9 to 10:
‘The Secret of the Room’ by Grace Kerr Voschezang – New Zealand
Ages 11 to 12:
‘Fifteen Minutes’ by Teddie DeMoss – United States
Ages 13 to 15:
‘Baldric’ by Rebecca – United States
Honourable Mentions:
‘The Secret Library’ by Moriah Borstad – Age 9
‘The Amazing Discovery’ by Freddie Chesswas – Age 11
‘Problems Yield to Effort’ by Clover Alsop – Age 13
‘The Art of Forgiveness’ by Willow Brooke – Age 14
Winning Entry (Ages 9-10):
The Secret of the Room
© Grace Kerr Voschezang – Age 10, New Zealand
I brushed my hands across the dusty books of the library of mystery. The library had mysteriously appeared at April Road on June 26th, 1992.
I had been curious to find what books lay in the library’s arms; I came across a pink fabric covered book beside a large door shaped mirror. I pulled the book halfway off the shelf. Warm air rushed across my face as I read the title: ‘The Secret of the Room’.
I put the book back on the shelf and, turning to face the mirror again, I froze. The mirror had swung open, revealing a secret room! Heart pounding, adrenaline pulsing through my veins, I stepped into the hidden room. The mirror door closed behind me with a soft “click” and I was alone in the dark, secret room. I wandered forward, blinded by the darkness.
A screech echoed above me, and I stifled a cry. Soft, furry hands touched my back. I yelped, and leapt into the never-ending blackness, landing in a crouch. As I turned my head, I saw a soft glow emitting from the corner of the room. I slowly stood and began creeping across the room.
Cold air swooped over me, and a scream came from behind. I bolted forward and skidded to a holt beside the glow. It was the book! “Not you again!” I groaned. The book fell open to a page decorated with pictures of an island surrounded by sapphire coloured water.
A tall spire rose from the middle of the island. I leaned forward for a closer look. Suddenly, the book glowed brighter and the screams and screeches behind me turned to howls of fright. Salty air enveloped me, and I fell into the pages of the book. A kaleidoscope of colour swirled around me, and I twirled quickly in the salty, colourful air.
Without warning, I fell out of the colour tunnel and landed with a muffled “whoomph!” in the golden sand. I lay moaning in the hot sand, my mouth full of its grittiness. “What a nice surprise!” said a cheerful voice behind me. Then I turned onto my back and stared. I sat up, spat the sand out of my mouth and asked, “who are you?”
The man in front of me chuckled. “I’m the keeper of the island, so it’s my job to ask questions, keep secrets, and greet visitors!” He laughed. “Course, I also protect a few things round here.”
Looking serious, he turned away. I struggled up. Now standing, I followed the man into a thin border of trees that stood on the western side of the island. Waves lapped against the shore as we entered the leafy border. I followed the man through the thin canopy of trees. They leaned toward me as if they would like to snatch me up, they didn’t lean toward the keeper.
Instead, they parted to let him through onto a glowing silver path at the edge of the trees border.
The trees were closing in on me, and I realized I wouldn’t be able to get through to wherever the man had gone. I began running at breakneck speed, leaping over logs and hidden tree roots. At the last second, I threw myself forward and dove through the trees and onto the silver path.
I looked around and began walking down the path. The man was now a large speck in the distance, I began to jog and was soon metres away from the keeper.
After what felt like a year, the man stopped at the top of a small valley and lugged a long, smooth board out of a nearby bush. He sat down on it and slid down into the valley. I ran to the bush and bent down. “Wow!” I said with surprise. The bush was hiding a small cave which stored more boards. I grabbed a purple board and sat down on it, grabbing the handles on the sides I pushed off and slid down the slope into the valley below. Wind rushed past my face and my long hair flapped like a ship’s sail behind me, I guided the board onto a small track, and it began to go faster. I whooped in excitement and the board slid as fast as lightening! I slid the board into another small cave.
I looked up, I saw a big, gleaming silver building in the middle of the valley. A tall, twisted spire rose from the centre like a phoenix from the ashes. A sign beside it proclaimed its name ‘The Library of Answers’. I gasped and ran towards the library, not caring about the long, scratchy grass and sweet- smelling blooming thistles that tore away at my blue patterned jeans.
I stopped by the library doors, and slowly, they swung open. I stepped inside. To my right was a tall bookcase which boasted many books of all size and colour. To my left was a large poster on a pink wall.
A single shelf held one book, the pink fabric book which brought me to the island. Beneath it was the poster. On it was a map of ‘The Library of Answers’. One section of the library was called ‘The Library of Mystery’. I headed in that direction, as I wanted to know how and why the Library of Mystery appeared on April Road, June 26th, 1992.
As I entered the Library of Mystery section, I gasped. The room was as round as a full moon, and it was as if the bookshelves reached to the heavens. My eyes scanned the shelves eagerly. Unexpectantly, a small yellow book fell from one of the shelves. I caught it and read the books title. It was called ‘Answers to the Library of Mystery’ I flipped the book open to the first page…
Winning Entry (Ages 11-12):
Fifteen Minutes
© Teddie DeMoss – Age 12, United States
Fifteen minutes.
Sweat trickled down Piper’s forehead as she rummaged through the many colorful books stacked neatly on the shelves.
Fifteen minutes. Move fast, Piper.
She pulled a book out, frantic hopefulness sparking in her green eyes–and then sputtering out when she put it back. Not what she was looking for.
Think, think, think.
If she was an unknown sorceress disguised as the Queen of Tampesk, where would she hide her complex Masterplan to take over the city?
She reached far back into one shelf hiding in the corner. Her groping hands bumped into something. Something unexpected. She felt it more to determine what it was. A handle maybe? She ducked her head inside the bookshelf and pulled out a small penlight from her jeans pocket. She flashed the light at the back of the shelf. A knob. With a padlock on it.
Thirteen minutes to go.
Thirteen minutes before the guards woke up from their drugged sleep. Thirteen minutes before they would see Piper’s empty cell and come storming through the palace to find her.
Move fast, Piper.
Thirteen.
Twelve.
Eleven.
Her fingers worked methodically over the padlock, and after three minutes and fourteen seconds, the lock sprang with a relieving click! She poked her hand through the small, revealed space. She grasped something thin and small. She dragged it out into the light.
A piece of the Masterplan.
It was ripped along the edges, which gave Piper the impression that the sorceress had hidden different pieces of it all around the room. Hope bubbled up in Piper’s heart–a trickle of anticipation–but she fought it down, careful to stay on track.
Ten.
Nine.
She ran her hands down the next shelf, feeling through every nook and cranny. Goosebumps erupted on her skin as she pulled out another piece.
Eight.
Seven.
Her body wanted to shut down. Sensory overload. TOO MUCH! Her brain screamed as anticipation, fear, hope, and dread corroded her veins. She ignored it and continued to search.
Move fast, Piper.
Six.
Five.
Her hands found another one hiding in a secret compartment underneath a floorboard.
She pieced the three scraps together and determined that she was only missing one, maybe two more pieces.
Move fast, Piper.
Faster.
Faster.
Fifteen minutes. That was it.
She found the last piece wedged beneath the cushion of a chair. She eagerly set to work at piecing them together.
Three.
Finish strong.
Piper finished gluing the pieces together. She gasped at the finished product. An intricate map, ancient and yellowed. A long path, filled with snares and monsters. And at the end…a volcano. Circled in blood red ink.
Vulcan’s Inferno.
The legend of the monster, Vulcan, was one that Piper had heard many times. The wicked lava monster unleashed torrents of hot, fiery chaos on whoever had been cursed by…
His owner.
The so-called mythical sorceress Milani.
That’s what she was looking for. Now she knew who she was fighting against. Milani.
The name sent frigid shivers up Piper’s spine. She had to stop this.
Madness.
She gathered the map and sprang to her feet, just as…
Two.
One.
Zero.
Angry shouts carried through the castle and burned their way into Piper’s ears. She leaped onto a bookshelf and tried to unscrew the bolts of a window high up on the wall.
Move fast, Piper. Here they come.
A soldier knocked down the heavy oak door. His comrades followed, crossbows raised. Their brass buttons shone immaculately on their professional uniforms.
“Piper Trokan,” boomed the first soldier, “you are under arrest for stealing the personal property of the newly crowned Queen of Tampesk, leading the revolt of rebels against royal authority, and escaping from detainment! I suggest you come down right now; my men have crossbows and are ready to use them.”
Piper smiled.
“Sorry, officer. Not going to happen.”
“And, may I ask, why not?”
“Because I’m about to jump out of this window.”
The bolt fell to the floor and Piper knocked open the window. With a playful smirk, she dove out and fell three stories, arrows flying all around her. She hurtled toward the ground and somersaulted onto it, jumping up and running as fast as she could into the forest.
Swish, swish!
Arrows pierced the air with screaming hisses, and Piper stumbled many times while she dodged them. Suddenly…
Swi–SHICK
An arrow shot into Piper’s calf. She gasped and winced. “I guess I do have an Achille’s heel,” she deadpanned through gritted teeth. She dragged herself up onto her horse, who was tied to a tree deeper in the forest.
“Come on, Stalyan,” she urged, “let’s get to the hideout.”
Half an hour later, Piper reached it: a cave hidden in the crevice of a tall mountain. She tied Stalyan outside and pushed through the thick ivy covering the entrance. She limped to the small, crackling fire in the back of the main entrance and sank to the floor.
“Enza! Corbin! Where’s everyone?”
A petite girl with gorgeous dark hair, skin, and eyes appeared from an entrance in the back. A boy with tan skin, chestnut hair, and blue eyes followed.
“Piper, what happened?” Enza rushed to her friend’s aid, her long dark hair flying. She bent down and handed Piper a bottle filled with deep blue liquid. “Here, drink this,” she said. Piper drank it, grateful for something to soothe her parched throat, and immediately felt smooth relief calming her heart and numbing the pain in her leg. Enza delicately pulled out the arrow and bandaged it with a shred of her light blue tunic.
“What happened?” Corbin echoed, standing behind Enza with concern in his stunning eyes.
“Spread the word,” Piper answered with a satisfied smile on her face. “Tell the others that I stole her masterplans from right under her nose. The rebellion is finally going our way. We have a lead.”
Winning Entry (Ages 13-15):
Baldric
© Rebecca – Age 13, United States
Once there was a girl named Ada, who despised reading. She thought it was boring and a complete waste of time.
One summer she visited her grandmother’s house. In Ada’s room was a tall bookshelf crammed with books.
On her first morning there her grandmother said, “There’s a present for you in the living room.”
Ada ran into the living room and saw a wrapped present on the couch. She sat down, grabbed it, hurriedly tore off the wrapping paper, and stared in disappointment at the object in her hand. It was a book called Paddington.
“My mother gave me this book,” said Ada’s grandmother. “I disliked reading books as much as you do now. When she gave it to me, she told me what I am going to tell you now: Read some tonight, before you go to sleep, and after that you can forget all about it.”
“Okay,” said Ada, “I will.”
That night she read the first chapter of Paddington and found it better than she expected. She put the book on her nightstand, turned off her lamp, and fell asleep. Sometime in the middle of the night a strange noise startled her awake. It had come from her bookshelf. She turned on her lamp and saw, to her surprise, that some of the books on the bottom shelf were getting pulled inward. As she stared in amazement out clambered a bear. He looked familiar.
“Hello,” he said, lifting his hat.
“Why, you look just like Paddington!” she exclaimed.
“I am Paddington, who else would I be?” he said, sounding slightly offended. “I’ve come to take you to Baldric.”
“Where?” asked Ada in confusion.
“Baldric,” said Paddington turning around and jumping through the hole he had just clambered through.
Ada walked over to the bookshelf and peered through the hole. She was surprised to see a room full of books.
“Come on,” Paddington called, and Ada jumped in.
“The emergency meeting will now commence,” called a loud voice from behind Ada.
She whirled around and saw an old man with a pointy hat and a long beard. Behind him stood a large mouse on its hind legs, a girl with a bright red bucket hanging from her belt, an old man, and a young girl with a crutch.
“I am Gandalf,” said the old man, addressing Ada, “you may know of me from the Lord of the Rings movies. Sadly, you do not know me as well as if you had read the books. However, you can mend that if you wish.”
Then Gandalf turned to the people behind him,
“Please introduce yourselves to this young lady.”
The mouse stepped forward, “I am Reepicheep, Chief mouse of Narnia. You can read about me in Prince Caspian, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, and The Last Battle.”
The girl with the crutch stepped forward next, “I am Leeli, Song-maiden of Anniera. I’m in all four books of The Wingfeather Saga, along with my brothers.”
“I’m Kate Weatherall,” said the girl with the red bucket. “I’m 13 years old and I’m from The Mysterious Benedict Society.”
The other old man said, “I am Ebeneezer Scrooge, from A Christmas Carol.”
“And I’m Paddington,” said the bear, “from the Paddington books.”
Then they all looked at her expectantly.
“I’m Ada,” she said, a little uncertainly.
“This meeting has been called to address your resistance to reading,” said Gandalf. “We are permitted to tell you a few things, but most you will have to find out on your own, by reading.”
“May I ask some questions?” wondered Ada aloud.
“Yes,” said Gandalf, “but we can only answer one question each, so be careful.”
“What is your bucket for?” Ada asked, turning towards Kate.
“It’s for carrying my tools and equipment,” she answered.
“What kind of equipment?” Ada started to ask, then she stopped, “I guess I’ll have to read the book if I want to find out,” she said slowly.
“Weren’t you once really mean?” Ada asked, looking at Scrooge.
“Unfortunately, yes,” he said, “but not anymore.”
Then Ada turned to Leeli, “What’s a Song-maiden of, umm?”
“Anniera?” said Leeli, “A Song-maiden of Anniera is the third child of the King of Anniera. They have a gift for music.”
“So you’re a princess? Oh, never mind, this only one question rule is hard to remember,” sighed Ada.
“Your Grandma has the whole Wingfeather Saga series,” said Leeli, “if you really want to find out more.”
“Please, sir, Gandalf,” Ada said, “is this a magic bookshelf?”
“I’m afraid, my dear girl,” said Gandalf, “that you have already asked me a question.”
Then Paddington said, “I can answer your question, and yes, it is a magic bookshelf, though I don’t think it’s as nice as my magic kit.”
“There’s one more thing I’ve been wondering about,” said Ada to Reepicheep, “I’ve watched a Narnia movie, and you were much smaller.”
“In the Narnia books,” said Reepicheep, “I am about three feet tall, which is the height I am know.”
“Now,” said Gandalf, “you must go back to bed. Paddington will show you how to get up.”
There was a kind of stair, partly hidden by books, up to the bottom of the bookshelf in Ada’s room. She followed Paddington up. When she was standing in her room, she remembered something.
“When we were here before, I asked a question that you answered, but then you answered another in Baldric.”
“Up here I can answer as many questions as you ask, as long as they don’t tell what happens in books.”
“Then I have one more question” asked Ada, “Why did Grandma say to read Paddington before I went to bed?”
“In order for the magic to work, you must read something before bed,” said Paddington. “Now goodnight.”
In the morning Ada asked her grandmother if she knew about Baldric.
“Yes, I do,” said her grandmother, “Did you visit it?”
“Yes,” said Ada, “and Grandma, where are your Wingfeather Saga books?”
Honourable Mention:
The Secret Library
© Moriah Borstad – Age 9, United States
Deep in a mountain where no man ever dared to set foot a dragon lived. She was not a big dragon like in the Middle Ages. She was the size of a cat, but she was dangerous. Her name was Thorn. She was golden. Thorn had been sent there by a group of wizards to protect a secret library. The library was stuffed; practically bursting with scrolls and books. They were ancient and filled to the brim with magic. Thorn slept in the hole that led to the library. One night just as she was beginning to drop off, she felt eyes on her. She jumped up and looked around, hissing. There was an overhanging rock ledge. Thorn began climbing up the rock wall. She jumped on to the rock ledge and began to twitch her growing wings. Just then she saw a shadow of a dragon.
“I know that you are there,” she said.
A dragon stepped out of the shadows. She saw that he was her age.
“What are you doing here?” Thorn asked.
Honourable Mention:
The Amazing Discovery
© Freddie Chesswas – Age 11, New Zealand
I ran up the huge stone steps, and walked into the new library that had just opened today. “Hello young man!’’ said a lady at the counter of the library, just as I got in. “Enjoy yourself!’’
“Yes, Madame.’’ I said. I eagerly started looking for books in the children’s section. I found one labeled ‘Stories and Secrets’ by J.S.H Sharkle-Coltvesh and started to read.
It was written by hand in very elegant writing. I started to read.
A record of all the secret places in the town of Gustruphes.
I looked up, surprised. I lived in the town of Gustruphes.
I flipped through the book, and went to the back.
No. 65,730. In the new library of Gustruphes, opened 5th of September 2023.
I looked up, and a gasp caught in my throat. I was in the new library of Gustruphes. Today was the fifth of September. The library opened today. I looked back down at the book.
Honourable Mention:
Problems Yield to Effort
© Clover Alsop – Age 13, New Zealand
Flora sighed, sitting down on her bed and looking at the picture she was holding. “I’m sure everyone here is capable of solving this problem,” Miss Vivian, Flora’s maths teacher, had said as she gave each student a copy of this picture. “The instructions are on the back of the page.”
“Well, I’m certainly not capable of solving this,” said Flora aloud. She glanced down at the picture. It was quite a nice picture, actually—a room lined with books leading to another book-filled room, possibly a secret one, given the way that the room was shaped.
But the questions on its back spoilt the picture entirely…
The dimensions of the first room are 12 feet x 10 feet x 8 feet (the length, width, and height of the room), which makes its volume 960 feet3 or 1,658,880 inches3.
The second room is triangular, so you would find its volume by multiplying its length (8 feet) by its width (8 feet), dividing the product by 2, and then multiplying the quotient by its height (8 feet). This equals 256 feet3, or 442,368 inches3.
If the first room is filled with 47,396 books, and the volume of each book is 35 inches3, how many books (hypothetically) will it take to fill the second room, given the fact that it already contains 200 books?
“Yes,” decided Flora. “ I definitely can’t solve this.”
Honourable Mention:
The Art of Forgiveness
© Willow Brooke – Age 14, New Zealand
Tiron
When I was twelve, I cursed someone.
All I said was, “I put the curse of the hills upon you,” to people who were being cruel. When using words was the only way I knew to fight back.
But words have a hidden power I didn’t realise then. When I was told I was wrong, I prayed for forgiveness, but the guilt burdened me, and I thought I was beyond redemption. So I turned bitter inside. It’s easy to go wrong at that age, when you’re poised between childhood and adulthood. In any case, I came to the crossroads, and I took the wrong path.
Instead of building up, I broke down. I left home and became an outlaw, searching for treasure that never satisfied me when I found it. Now, following a rumour I had heard in the last village I had passed, I strode through a dark forest, looking for a cottage reputed to be full of treasure. “The girl who lives there’s the richest in the world,” folk whispered, and I had believed them, fool that I was. I was regretting my blind trust in their rumours as I heard a wolf howling in the distance.
“A good book makes you want to live in the story. A great book gives you no choice.“
– Unknown
Honourable Mention:
The Secret Library
© Moriah Borstad – Age 9, United States
Deep in a mountain where no man ever dared to set foot a dragon lived. She was not a big dragon like in the Middle Ages. She was the size of a cat, but she was dangerous. Her name was Thorn. She was golden. Thorn had been sent there by a group of wizards to protect a secret library. The library was stuffed; practically bursting with scrolls and books. They were ancient and filled to the brim with magic. Thorn slept in the hole that led to the library. One night just as she was beginning to drop off, she felt eyes on her. She jumped up and looked around, hissing. There was an overhanging rock ledge. Thorn began climbing up the rock wall. She jumped on to the rock ledge and began to twitch her growing wings. Just then she saw a shadow of a dragon.
“I know that you are there,” she said.
A dragon stepped out of the shadows. She saw that he was her age.
“What are you doing here?” Thorn asked.
“It is pouring outside,” the strange dragon answered.
“What is your name?” she asked.
“Oak,” he answered.
“OAK!” Thorn cried.
She threw herself at the dragon and flung her wings around him. Oak and Thorn tumbled off the ledge. CRASH! They hit the cave floor.
“Oof,” Oak said rolling over.
“Ouch,” Thorn said. “Where did you go?” she asked Oak.
“Oh, I was stolen,” he answered.
“Stolen!” Thorn squeaked.
“Yup,” he answered.
“Cool and scary,” she whispered in Oak’s ear.
“HEY!” Oak yelped, “that tickled.”
He jumped up and danced around the cave, wiggling a claw in his ear, his brown scales jumping on him like they were alive.
“Hahaha!” Thorn laughed, “you look so funny.”
“I am going to ask you a question,” Oak said.
“Why are you here?”
“Hmm tell you later,” she mumbled.
When Thorn had fallen asleep. Oak crawled through the hole that led to the library.
…
Thorn woke up.
“Oak?” she whispered she turned her head and saw empty air.
“Oh no,” Thorn whispered. “The library.”
Oak was in the library. She rushed into the library and saw Oak standing in the only place to stand.
“This is amazing!” Oak breathed.
Thorn reached out, then grabbed him. And before he could move, she had bonked him on the head. Thorn dragged him through the passage and dumped him on the cave floor. One hour later…
“Ouch OW!”
CRASH. Thorn, who had been in the library making sure the books and scrolls hadn’t been misplaced, hurried out and saw that Oak had fallen off the rock ledge where she had put him. She began laughing helplessly and, taking pity on him, fetched a bucket of water and a cloth that had been lying unused in a corner. Thorn was used to having to fix him up, as they had been best friends in young dragonhood. As she fixed his head, she wondered that he could stand still in the library ALL night.
“Thorn?” Oak whispered. “Do you remember what we were raised for?”
“Yes,” she answered, “we were supposed to get married and have dragonets.”
“Well,” he said, “let’s do that.”
“When I am older,” she answered.
Then she returned the bucket to its corner and spoke.
“It’s early afternoon and too nice a day to spend in this cave.”
Later as they watched the sunset Thorn sighed.
“We had better go into the cave; it’s beginning to rain,” she said.
“I was just going to sleep,” Oak grumbled.
“Race you!” Thorn shouted.
They raced through natural passageways back to the cave. They collapsed in the middle of the cave.
“It’s cold in here,” Thorn said.
“Where is the bucket! the rock ledge! and the library entrance?” Oak asked.
“We are in the wrong cave!” she whimpered.
They raced through the passages and finally collapsed in the right cave.
“Whew,” she coughed.
“That was scary,” Oak said, breathing hard.
“We must have been under the mountain!” Thorn said in an awed voice.
Then they went to sleep. That night she was visited in a dream by the master magician.
“Thorn, my dear dragon, you must marry Oak at once. He shall help you guard the library, and you are old enough to marry.”
Then he slipped out of her dream. Next, he went to Oak’s dream and told him to marry her. In the morning Oak and Thorn told each other their dreams. After a breakfast of codfish Oak flew away to find a wandering magician to marry them. Three days later he returned with a magician running after him. It took both dragons to carry him into the mountain as the entrance was high up.
“Do you promise to stay together in marriage till you die, treat your dragonets kindly, and most of all to love each other?”
“We do.”
“I pronounce you married,” he spoke.
Then he disappeared. Nine days later when Oak came home from hunting, four eggs sat in the nest that Thorn had made a day ago.
“The eggs!” he cried dropping the rabbit he had caught.
“Yup,” she said.
Ten days later they began hatching.
“Oak!” Thorn yelped.
“What?” he said.
“That egg! It’s cracking open!” she yelped.
“Those two are also cracking open!” he exclaimed.
Then, “pop” a baby dragon leaped out his egg “pop” the same thing happened to the other eggs. Soon Thorn told Oak that there were two boys and two girls. They named their first son Ember because he was red and black and looked like a dragon-shaped ember. Their next dragon was a boy also and they named him Sleet because he was white. Their last baby dragons were girls. One was green and they named her Vine. The other was blue and named Dolphin. Thorn and Oak grew old and died. Their children had children and they all protected the library. So, when the miners came for gold, the dragons defended the mountain and won.
Honourable Mention:
The Amazing Discovery
© Freddie Chesswas – Age 11, New Zealand
I ran up the huge stone steps, and walked into the new library that had just opened today. “Hello young man!’’ said a lady at the counter of the library, just as I got in. “Enjoy yourself!’’
“Yes, Madame.’’ I said. I eagerly started looking for books in the children’s section. I found one labeled ‘Stories and Secrets’ by J.S.H Sharkle-Coltvesh and started to read.
It was written by hand in very elegant writing. I started to read.
A record of all the secret places in the town of Gustruphes.
I looked up, surprised. I lived in the town of Gustruphes.
I flipped through the book, and went to the back.
No. 65,730. In the new library of Gustruphes, opened 5th of September 2023.
I looked up, and a gasp caught in my throat. I was in the new library of Gustruphes. Today was the fifth of September. The library opened today. I looked back down at the book.
If you want to find the secret place, you must solve this riddle. It will lead to the starting place. There will be another clue there.
You must move on, to a place of water.
Most people don’t drink from there.
From there, turn left, and there you will see,
Hidden in plain sight, your next clue
“Toilets.’’ was the first thing that came into my mind. Who’d drink from a toilet?
I went straight to the bathroom. I faced the door and turned left.
I saw a sign on the wall.
It was a big glowing green sign with the words “Counter’’ and an arrow pointing to the counter.
I smiled. I had to go to the counter.
I walked to the counter. I saw a piece of paper hidden beneath a book. I looked at it.
It said:
I start with T.
I end with R
My middle letters are PD.
I have double vowels in my second syllable.
My first syllable is the same as the first syllable in a type of quadrilateral.
The definition to this riddle is above the location of your destination, but go with caution, not elation.
“Excuse me?’’ I asked the lady at the counter.
“Yes dear?’’ smiled the lady.
“Do you have any books on quadrilaterals?’’ I asked.
“Yes, there are a few with the most common ones in them in the children’s corner on the picture bookshelf. The best one is by J.S.H Sharkle-Coltvesh.’’
“Really!’’ I said. That was unbelievable. I went off to the children’s corner and found the book.
“Square, rhombus, trapezoid, parallelogram, rectangle.’’ I read. “One of them.’’
I got a piece of paper. I wrote down the first syllable of each one.
Square.
Rhom
Par
Trap
Rec
I looked at the piece of paper.
“Double vowels.” I read.
I crossed out square, for it had a vowel at the end, and it was obvious nothing started with them.
I looked. The one with the most meaning was Trap, and it started with T. I put OO next to it, wrote four more Traps, and put the other vowels next to them.
I put D between Trap and the two vowels in each one, and put an R at the end.
One made sense.
“Trapdoor!’’ I cried, slapping my forehead.
I searched the entire library but found no trapdoor.
I studied the note.
“That note seems to have an awful lot of T-I-O-N words.’’ said a voice behind me.
I spun around, but no one was there.
I decided to look for more J.S.H Sharkle-Coltvesh picture books.
I looked at one, and gasped.
It was on T-I-O-N words.
I opened it.
A word was scrawled on the front in the same handwriting as the note.
Corner
I grinned. These clues from J.S.H Sharkle-Coltvesh were really helpful.
I looked in the most secluded corner: right by a section labeled: Boring Books for Boring People.
Sure enough, there in the corner was a trapdoor.
I opened it, and climbed down a ladder. I then felt something soft. Marshmallows and pillows! I jumped into them the rest of the way down and landed safely.
There was a dark stone passageway. I followed it.
There was a door. I reached out for the handle, just when a voice said “Well, you are here!’’
I jumped. Standing behind me was a tiny man. His beard touched the ground, his mustache was expertly twirled, and his face was a white as a moon.
“I am Jack Samuel Henry Sharkle-Coltvesh.’’ he said. “I am sorry, but you cannot go in there. It is my private writing room. Do not worry. I will not harm you. I go up every now and then to edit my published books.’’
“But…but…’’
“Why am I down here? You see, I designed the whole library. I live down here.’’
“Oh…I see.’’ I said.
“You love books.’’ he said abruptly.
“Yeah, I do!’’’ I said.
“Well, I have a special room for you.’’ said J.S.H Sharkle-Coltvesh. “Follow me.’’
I followed the man. He led me to a panel. He gave it a push, and it opened.
“Wow!’’ I said.
In the room was a place filled with all kinds of adventure, mystery and chicken books, all my favourite kinds.
“You can have the whole place if you like.’’ said J.S.H Sharkle-Coltvesh. “As long as you keep it an absolute secret.’’
“Of course!’’ I breathed. “But why give it to me?’’
“You are the keenest book reader in Gustruphes,’’ said the brilliant man simply.
“Speaking of Gustruphes, how do you know all the secret passages in it?’’
“I designed the whole town,” he said. “Enjoy the room. To get out, all you need to do is climb the ladder, push the trapdoor, and exit.’’ And with that, Jack Samuel Henry Sharkle-Coltvesh walked out the room, leaving me to sink onto a soft cushion, select a book, and leap into the story.
Honourable Mention:
Problems Yield to Effort
© Clover Alsop – Age 13, New Zealand
Flora sighed, sitting down on her bed and looking at the picture she was holding. “I’m sure everyone here is capable of solving this problem,” Miss Vivian, Flora’s maths teacher, had said as she gave each student a copy of this picture. “The instructions are on the back of the page.”
“Well, I’m certainly not capable of solving this,” said Flora aloud. She glanced down at the picture. It was quite a nice picture, actually—a room lined with books leading to another book-filled room, possibly a secret one, given the way that the room was shaped.
But the questions on its back spoilt the picture entirely…
The dimensions of the first room are 12 feet x 10 feet x 8 feet (the length, width, and height of the room), which makes its volume 960 feet3 or 1,658,880 inches3.
The second room is triangular, so you would find its volume by multiplying its length (8 feet) by its width (8 feet), dividing the product by 2, and then multiplying the quotient by its height (8 feet). This equals 256 feet3, or 442,368 inches3.
If the first room is filled with 47,396 books, and the volume of each book is 35 inches3, how many books (hypothetically) will it take to fill the second room, given the fact that it already contains 200 books?
“Yes,” decided Flora. “ I definitely can’t solve this.”
“Positivity, sis!” yelled Nick, Flora’s brother, right in her ear. Flora screeched, glaring at him. “What would you know? This is impossible!”
“‘It’s always impossible until it’s done!’” quoted Nick, grinning as Flora rolled her eyes. “Honestly. Look, it’s nearly 8:30. Sleep on it. I guarantee you’ll have the answer by the morning.” He patted her shoulder encouragingly. “Good night!”
“Night,” answered Flora, getting into her pyjamas and hopping into bed. She picked up her book, Keeper of the Lost Cities, and soon was engrossed in Sophie’s first day at Foxfire. Flora had just reached The Great Splotching Incident part, when she began to have a struggle keeping her eyes open. She closed her book, and as she turned her light off, she had one last fleeting thought of the maths problem before drifting off to sleep.
*
Flora was in a triangular room, crafted of a lovely dark wood, and lined with laden bookshelves. This is the room from the picture, she thought. It’s beautiful! I wonder— but suddenly the room began to shake, and books started to fall slowly from the ceiling.
They landed into stacks, and Flora counted that each stack contained 112 books. Soon the books fell more quickly, and she noticed that they appeared to be passing through her. Surprisingly, she wasn’t at all alarmed: it all seemed very reasonable. After all, this was only a dream.
Stacks of books were falling all around her, plummeting to the ground and Flora counted 13 that were completed. The books fell faster and faster, and soon there were 27 stacks, then 79.
Titles flashed past her eyes: Neverseen, Polar Bear Explorer’s Club, Prince Caspian, The Lord of the Rings—but where were they all coming from?
Flora glanced up at the ceiling, where a gaping hole loomed, wondering how it could hold so many books. And then she saw it.
A head—a human head—poking around the edge of the hole.
And she recognised that head.
“Nick!” Flora cried, as the 89th and 90th piles fell. “Nick!!!”
Nick didn’t appear to be able to hear her, but he winked, and then disappeared from her sight.
More titles cascaded: The Siege of Macindaw, Operation Yes, Echo, Eagle of the Ninth, Shadow Spinner, The Book of Three, Detectives in Togas, forming stacks number 110 and 111, and although the room was triangular, and as such had a mathematically unfillable shape, it seemed to be nearly full.
Then 37 books gently floated to a stop immediately above Flora, giving her just enough time to count them before they whizzed off, and jammed themselves into corners.
*
“111 piles of 112 books, with 37 books left over!” exclaimed Flora, sitting bolt upright in bed. “That has got to be the answer!”
She got out of bed and went over to her desk before snatching up a pen and notebook and scribbling down the sum, ending up with 12,469 books. Flora reworked the sum 3 more times, each time getting the same answer.
Elated, she quickly threw on a dressing gown, and then she raced down the corridor to Nick’s room. Once there, Flora grabbed his shoulder, and shook him, hard. “Nick!” she said, as he opened his eyes blearily and unwillingly. “You were right! I know the answer now! Thank you so much! You are a genius!!”
“Always have been, always will be,” Nick mumbled, turning over. “Glad to have been of service.”
Honourable Mention:
The Art of Forgiveness
© Willow Brooke – Age 14, New Zealand
Tiron
When I was twelve, I cursed someone.
All I said was, “I put the curse of the hills upon you,” to people who were being cruel. When using words was the only way I knew to fight back.
But words have a hidden power I didn’t realise then. When I was told I was wrong, I prayed for forgiveness, but the guilt burdened me, and I thought I was beyond redemption. So I turned bitter inside. It’s easy to go wrong at that age, when you’re poised between childhood and adulthood. In any case, I came to the crossroads, and I took the wrong path.
Instead of building up, I broke down. I left home and became an outlaw, searching for treasure that never satisfied me when I found it. Now, following a rumour I had heard in the last village I had passed, I strode through a dark forest, looking for a cottage reputed to be full of treasure. “The girl who lives there’s the richest in the world,” folk whispered, and I had believed them, fool that I was. I was regretting my blind trust in their rumours as I heard a wolf howling in the distance.
I fingered my sword-hilt in – surely not – fear? I was never afraid. But there was something unsettling about this forest, and it was with relief that I caught sight of a light through the trees ahead and made my way towards it. When I reached it I drew my sword, took a deep breath, and opened the door.
In my head, I had built up pictures of overflowing treasure-chests and such. But all I saw as I stepped inside was books. Stacks of books, reaching to the roof, making it seem that they were all the house was built of. Precious – to some people – but not what I had come for.
Anger built up in me, higher and stronger until it spilled over. I howled with rage, slashing my sword so books fell to the floor. Again, again, until a huge stack fell away from the wall, crashing to the floor in what seemed like slow motion as I stared at what was behind them.
There was a hole in the wall. Not a roughly-hewn one, but one that was meant to be there. An archway led into another book-filled room, but this one looked cosy and had little candles set around. As I stood and stared, another unexpected thing happened.
A girl poked her head round one of the pillars.
Ivy
I looked up from the Book and saw him, standing in the archway that had been ‘booked’ up months ago. I had heard his angry cries in the other room and the books falling. He held a naked sword, and yet I was not afraid. I saw he had been hurt deeply, as I had once been hurt. I felt his pain.
And I smiled at him.
Tiron
She smiled at me, unafraid. Surely she had heard me in the other room? Didn’t she understand that I had the power to kill if I chose? I had never killed anyone before, but there was always a first time.
But when I met her eyes I saw she knew this. And yet she did not run away or try to defend herself. She simply sat and looked at me, and I was frozen by the compassion in her gaze.
“When I was twelve, my brother was poisoned because of me.”
I jerked, startled by her voice.
“He was my only family, but he was killed by a man who wanted to marry me. He drew a sword to threaten me, but my brother stepped between, taking the blow meant for me and killing the other man. Later, I held his hand as he died of the poison from the wound he had received, knowing it was my fault.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I said.
“Because I know you have done something you regret. You have prayed for forgiveness, and you believe no answer has come. But if you have asked sincerely, you have already been forgiven; you just have to forgive yourself. I have been there,” she said softly. “And done that. So what I say is true. You can remain here for a time, if you want.”
“Why?” I asked.
The girl was silent a moment. “You need healing,” she said. “Perhaps you could find it here. And I am lonely sometimes, when the days are long and dark. I need a friend.”
Ivy
I could tell my words had surprised him. He lowered his sword, staring at me.
“You want me? But no-one wants me,” he said.
“I do,” I said.
He let his sword-tip drop lower so it struck the books at his feet. Bending, he came forward into the room and stood looking down at me as I looked up to meet his eyes.
He shook his head. “Who are you?”
“I am Ivy, a religious philosopher. You and I, we are alike; we seek answers to the world’s pain.”
“And have you found them?” he asked.
“Some of them. But there are always new things to discover.” I paused and looked at him. “Will you join me?”
Tiron
I knew Ivy’s words were true, but believing was another matter. I stared at the bookshelves and thought. I had prayed for forgiveness, hadn’t I? And I had gone ‘wild’ when I thought my prayer was unanswered, but really I had been forgiven all along.
Suddenly a great weight lifted off my soul.
I sheathed my sword and knelt next to Ivy. “My name is Tiron,” I said. “Will you teach me what you know?”
Ivy
For the rest of the night we sat there, reading to each other or sitting peacefully. The candles flickered, sending dancing shadows over the spines of the books. We were safe, comfortable, happy.
And I felt as if I had fought the world and won when Tiron laughed.