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Katie McEnaney

A Gift for the Spring #SpringFlingKidLit

Happy Spring and happy #SpringFlingKidLit! This annual contest hosted by author Ciara O’Neal and agent Kaitlyn Sanchez challenges authors to create a spring-themed, 150-word kidlit story illustrated only by a singular gif. You can read all the details here.

A Gift for the Spring

By: Katie McEnaney, 150 words

The ice covering the spring groans loudly. Ardith tightens her cloak and adjusts the bronze fibula pin her brother Hollis forged.

Today? 
Not yet.

She gathers scrawny twigs, remembering the towering firewood pile Hollis stacked, now long-gone. Ardith shivers. Without Hollis’s wisdom and strength, how will the family hang on?

Another dawn.
Cracks web the ice. Widening. Widening.

Soon?
Yes. But not yet.

Dawn brings bursts of purple irises. Ardith rushes to the spring. Crack. Bubbles burst through the ice: Springtime!

New season. New hope. Now.

Ardith unclasps the pin from Hollis. She has to bring him back. She kneels in the irises and recites her prayer to the gods—her plea for her brother’s safe return.

One last kiss; she flings the pin into the bubbling waters.

A whisper of warmer wind guides her, carrying the sound of a distant flute. 

Ardith flies down the path toward home. And hope.

(c) Katie McEnaney 2023

A Few Historical Notes for the Curious

In my mind, the scene is set in ancient Britain or northern Europe, and I had great fun finding the perfect Anglo-Saxon names for my characters to set the mood. I actually have an uncle named Ardith (he went by Art), and when I discovered Ardith is both an Anglo-Saxon name meaning good war and a Hebrew name meaning flowering field, I knew it was the perfect fit for this springtime story. Hollis is an Anglo-Saxon name meaning hero (and the name of both a freshman dorm and the library system in college). Although I couldn’t cram it into the 150 words, canonically in my head Hollis is off fighting against outside invaders or another tribe.

Late 2nd-Early 3rd century CE Roman fibula found in Germany along the Rhine, now at the MET (click image for details)

Fibula is the Latin word for a cloak pin, similar to a safety pin in many ways. The leg bone we call a fibula was named for these pins – the tibia and fibula fit together in a similar way. Many ancient cultures believed in leaving votive gifts or offerings to the gods as a way to strengthen the power of your prayers. Let’s hope it worked for Ardith.

Maybe I’ll have to turn this into a full middle grade novel to find out!

Feel free to share your thoughts or a link to your #SpringFlingKidLit entry below.

A Handful of History #50PreciousWords

It’s time again for Vivian Kirkfield’s #50PreciousWords contest! I was delighted to be a finalist last year with my short story, DIG, which you can read here.

This year’s story, A Handful of History, was inspired by Paleolithic cave paintings. In a recent study, archaeologists recreated these blown-paint hand outlines and determined that many of them were likely made by children. You can read the full study here or the Atlas Obscura article here. (The background image is from The Panel of the Hands at El Castillo cave in Spain.)

If you enjoyed the story, please leave a comment here on the #50PreciousWords blog post. Thanks!

A Handful of History

Shadows flickered against the cave wall.
“Here?”
“No—here!”
Proudly the boy raised his hand, fingers spread.

Fwomp!
His mother blew into the hollow reed, scattering paint.
He giggled; it tickled. 

Together, they admired their artwork. 
Then, a new creation— 
Now, 40,000 years old.

How will you leave your mark?

(c) Katie McEnaney 2023

Pilfering Parrots

This month’s Valentiny contest is organized by Susanna Leonard Hill, and you can read more about the contest here. The challenge was to write a story in 214 words (2/14) or less that is Valentines-focused and includes a skeptical character.

My 5th graders just wrapped up their Greek myth plays, so my inspiration comes from “Eros and Psyche,” but you may better recognize Eros by his Roman name … Cupid.

Pilfering Parrots

By: Katie McEnaney, Word Count: 208

“No. Way,” Preston the parrot squawked in dismay.  “Valentine’s cannot possibly be your favorite holiday. All that snuggling and kissing, ugh.”

“There’s tasty treats!” his friend Petunia insisted. 

“True. We’ll keep the treats but ditch the lovey-dovey. THAT’s why we’ll steal Cupid’s arrows. No more arrows, no more huggy-snuggly Valentine’s Day. Just treats!” 

—

The plan was proceeding perfectly:

Sneak into Cupid’s castle? Check.

Locate the quiver of arrows in his bedroom? Check.

Snatch the arrows, speed out the window, carry them to the nearby volcano, and melt them into oblivion?

Not. 

Quite. 

Check.

Instead, Preston swooped down and grasped the arrows by the tip. “Ouch!” 

Cupid’s love potion flooded him from tip to tail. Preston’s heart fluttered faster than his wings, and his beak began beaming. Why, love was a marvelous thing! 

“What a glorious day!” he crowed, waking up Cupid. “I LOVE love.”

Petunia fluttered down. “But … why … what about too mushy and too gushy?”

Preston perched beside her and cuddled close. “Love is a celebration of friendship and joy. Now I get it!”

Cupid smiled at the foolish friends. “Come, join me! Together, you shall be my ambassadors of love.”

… and THAT is how the Agapornis parrots became forever known as love birds.

Leave a comment with your thoughts below or visit Susanna’s site for my official entry comment.

The Stockings Were Hung by the Chimney with Care

This year Susanna Leonard Hill’s Annual Holiday Writing Contest featured bad guys. The challenge was to create a new holiday bad guy and feature them in a kid-friendly story of 250 words or less. I was delighted to learn that my Indomitable Sock Monster (the lesser-known cousin of the Abominable Snowman) received an honorable mention!

Read on and you’ll find out where all those misplaced socks actually go …

The Stockings Were Hung by the Chimney with Care

By: Katie McEnaney

Long before washers, long before dryers, 

Before electric lights and gas-only fires, 

There lived a monster. 

His quest? To steal one sock from every pair ever knit.

No matching sock in your drawer? Indomitable Sock Monster.

An odd number of socks left hanging to dry? Indomitable Sock Monster.

What could be done to stop his sock-stealing rampage? The townspeople were at a loss.

But clever Siobhan had a plan. She knitted the largest, longest, most colorful pair of socks ever seen. Irresistible. 

Siobhan nailed them up near the chimney and tied the loose end of the yarn tightly to the nail.

That morning, one sock had been stolen! But it left a trail of yarn behind as it unraveled. Siobhan raced out the door to follow the yarn … it wound around town, across the meadow, and up the hill to the abandoned castle.

There she spied the monster: 

     his terrible teeth … 

          his horrifying horns … 

               his mouse-mittens and squirrel-sized scarves … 

Wait, what? 

The monster was turning stolen socks into gifts for the Winter Solstice?

The town came together and declared a truce. Every Solstice townspeople hung their largest unmatched sock above the fireplace for the Indomitable Sock Monster. He stole his fill of socks on that night only, leaving the remaining pairs intact for another year.

Everything worked out perfectly until a jolly old man started interfering and using those single socks for his own purposes …

     but that’s another story.

Snolloween #Halloweensie

The 12th Annual Halloweensie Writing Contest is sponsored by Susanna Leonard Hill, and you can read all the details here at her blog. The challenge is to write a 100-word Halloween-themed story using three specific words. This year’s words were slither, treat, and scare.

In trying to think of original ideas for things that slither, I thought about the Halloween Blizzard of 1991, and the year we trick-or-treated by car. If you enjoyed the story, please leave a comment on the blog or over on the official Halloweensie post. Thanks!

Snolloween

A sudden snowstorm stopped the animals’ annual Halloween pumpkin party.

“Too cold for costumes!” chattered a cheerleader chipmunk.

“Too windy for wands!” whined a witchy weasel.

“I’m scared of snow!” stammered a swim-suited squirrel.

Helpless and horrified, they huddled in the tree hollow behind their newly-carved pumpkins. Snow slithered and swooped toward them, coming closer …

  and closer. 

Luckily, the lit jack-o-lanterns held firm, stopping the sneaky snow.

“Halloween is saved!” they cheered. 

Pom-poms, brooms, and sand shovels attacked the mess. Bravely, Squirrel scooped snow into three bowls, and Chipmunk squirted syrup. 

A tasty treat and a toast to Snolloween!

Heads up about #PBCritiqueFest

Writers and illustrators, looking to win a professional critique from a published author, illustrator, or agent this Halloween season? Author Brian Gehrlein is hosting the 3rd Annual #PBCritiqueFest now through October 31st. Hop on over to this post for all the details.

All you need to do is fill out the survey at Picture Book Spotlight, and you’re entered. You can gain additional entries for posting on social media and your own blog. Let me know if you enter, and good luck!

The Road Ahead #FallWritingFrenzy

It’s #FallWritingFrenzy season! Thanks so much to co-hosts Kaitlyn Leann Sanchez and Lydia Lukidis, plus guest judge Alyssa Reynoso-Morris, and thank you to all the incredible prize donors. The challenge was to write a kidlit story in 200 words or less, inspired by one of 14 fall-themed images. I chose the image below.

Fall- Credit: John Mccann for Unsplash

The Road Ahead

By: Katie McEnaney

The only path was forward. Alone. He knew the headmistress was lying about his arrival at the orphanage. This final quest would reveal the truth. 

Aylmer slipped away from the camp. Early fog rose from the marshes, obscuring him from view. He crept carefully, looking for the path his heart told him was nearby.

Aylmer had traveled many paths before, following the deep longing in his soul, but they were never right. Flat and endless ones, pin-straight across the plains. Rocky and winding ones, meandering through mountains. Paths so thin they could barely be seen, and thoroughfares so wide two teams of oxen could pass without noticing each other. 

Nothing prepared him for this. The fog lifted, and a glow emerged from the forest ahead. 

Bending trees framed a canopy above, while leaves of all hues made a carpet. The wind carried faint echoes of memories. His footfalls were a whispered crunch. 

Aylmer began to run as he saw the cottage; windows aglow just like in his dreams. 

The door opened. Her eyes stared back; their hazel shine was like looking into a mirror. “Mother? I’ve found you at last!” Her arms opened wide. The only path was forward. 

Together.

Read more about #FallWritingFrenzy and view the other entries here.

But Dorothy Did #SunWriteFun

Photo from https://www.arch.cam.ac.uk/files/dorothy_garrod_at_cambridge.pdf

But Dorothy Did

a brief biography of pioneering archaeologist Dorothy Garrod
By: Katie McEnaney, 200 words

     From the beginning, Dorothy did the unexpected. Most girls in 1921 didn’t attend university, but Dorothy did. She studied anthropology, wondering and learning about people in the past.

     Most people never set foot inside a cave, but Dorothy did. She crawled in, dodging stalagmites and ducking stalactites. She witnessed wonders: herds of painted bison and thousand-year old footprints. 

     Few archaeologists considered cave sites, but Dorothy did. She excavated caves across Eurasia. At Mount Carmel her teams dug 75 feet down, uncovering 75,000 years of prehistory.

     Few excavations employed women, but Dorothy did. She hired local women as crew members and launched the careers of many female scholars. Some years her team was entirely women.

     Few archaeologists worked and traveled widely, but Dorothy did. Rather than focus on one area, she pondered how sites around the Mediterranean were related. She uncovered a new culture, Natufian, and proved that these first farmers were connected across Afro-Eurasia.

     Women could not become professors at universities, but Dorothy did. She was the first female professor at Cambridge. She worked tirelessly creating a program for studying early humans.

     Explorer. Archaeologist. Professor. Not everyone lives their life exploring their passions to the fullest, but Dorothy did.

Shared for #SunWriteFun 2022

Dig #50PreciousWords

Dig: an archaeological lift-the-flap book

Dig down.
What’ll be found?

A broken pot,
All we’ve got.

Tough to fit
Pottery bits.

Trowel clicks.
What’s this?

Sheen? Green!
Coins gleam.

Dump, lift.
Trays sift.

Small seed?
No, a bead!

Search the past.
Artifacts last.

Stories found
In the ground.

Work slow,
Uncover.

What will you
Discover?

(c) Katie McEnaney 2022

You can leave a comment on the official #50PreciousWords post.

#50PreciousWords

August Afternoon (50 words)

Another tremor. Nothing fell over this time. Liviana continued weaving.

Marcus burst in, pointing out the window. “The mountain! It’s growing!” Rather than low clouds, the mountain had tripled, shooting up a column of gray. As the ash began raining down, they grabbed hands and ran.

Behind them, Vesuvius exploded.

(c) Katie McEnaney 2021

The #50PreciousWords challenge runs the first week of March. You can read the details and enter here.