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Hedgehog in the autumn leaves

A Prickle of Prehistory – #FallWritingFrenzy

This is my third year participating in Fall Writing Frenzy, hosted by Kaitlyn Sanchez, Lydia Ludikis, and Ebony Mudd. (You can read all about this year’s contest here.) The challenge is to write a 200-word or less Fall-themed kidlit story based on one of the photographs chosen for the contest.

My previous entries were what felt like a section from a middle grade fantasy quest novel, The Road Ahead, and a counting board book, Hush! Hammock. But this year I finally found an image that let me bring my “geeking out archaeology” vibe to the fall. (Isn’t it just the cutest?) Stick around past the story for some amazing ancient hedgehog images too!

Hedgehog in fall leaves
Credit: Unsplash via Piotr Łaskawski

A Prickle of Prehistory: 
the uncommon legacy of the common hedgehog

(c) Katie McEnaney, 2024
Word count: 200

Psst… hey, you?

Not up there. Down here.

Hedgehogs are easily overlooked—it’s one of our many talents—but we have been a big deal for thousands of years. Curl up close—not too close—and I’ll tell you our tale.

Hedgehogs were famous across the ancient world. In Egypt we warded off evil. A carved hedgehog necklace kept you safe. Hedgehog rattles scared off spirits.

We predicted fall weather. When the Egyptian summer sun beat down, we would dig in and sleep underground. Weeks later we would reappear, right as the weather cooled. Don’t tell the groundhogs, but we may have been the first forecasters.

If you start looking for ancient hedgehogs, you will find us everywhere. We were carved out of stone and sculpted out of clay. We were blown out of glass and cast in gold. 

One hedgehog statue even had its own wheeled cart to ride. Maybe it was a beloved toy. Maybe it was a mysterious religious ceremony. We’ll keep that secret to ourselves.

We may be little, but we are not insignificant. We are thousands of years of history wrapped up in one small, spiky bundle. Treat us well, and maybe we will bring you good luck too!

Ancient Hedgehogs

I had seen a lot of these amazing hedgehogs at one time or another, but it was so fun to peruse them again for this story! I had a hard time narrowing it down to just a few.

© The Trustees of the British Museum
Public Domain, The Met
(c) National Museums Scotland
(c) Brooklyn Museum
(c) Museé du Louvre
(c) Brooklyn Museum

I’d love to hear which is your favorite!

Grandma’s Flute #50PreciousWords

#50PreciousWords is my all-time favorite kidlit writing contest. It’s run by Vivian Kirkfield, and it was the first writing contest I ever entered. I love the challenge to write small and two of my previous entries, Dig: an archaeological lift-the-flap and A Handful of History, have been selected as finalists. I’m excited to share my entry for 2024 below.

Grandma’s Flute

(c) Katie McEnaney, 2024
Word count: 50

When Grandma’s flute trills, my heart sings. 

My turn:
Pucker, blow…
Squeal! 
Screech!

Hugs. Encouragement. Try again.
Squeals become notes.
Screeches transform into melodies.

Nana cheers my recitals.
Graduation.
Until I have only her flute.

Silent.

Finally, my daughter—ready to learn.
Her great-grandma’s flute trills, and both our hearts sing.

The image of the flute used in the Canva version of my story come from Marco Verch on Flickr and is used with attribution under the Creative Commons license 2.0.

The Cookie Calamity

Happy December! And happy annual-holiday-writing-contest season! I’m delighted to be joining Susanna Hill and a host of other wonderful kidlit writers in this year’s contest. (You can read my honorable mention entry from last year, The Stockings Were Hung by the Chimney with Care here.) This year’s contest must feature a countdown of some kind and squeak in under 250 words. You can read all the rules, enter yourself, or check out the other amazing entries here!

The Cookie Calamity

(c) Katie McEnaney, 2023
249 words

Amelie grinned as she frosted the twelfth and final snowflake cookie. Perfect! She hoped the snowstorm wouldn’t spoil her first-ever Solstice Party.

DING-DONG! 

“It’s Mateo!” yelled Amelie’s little sister, Camille.

“I brought hot chocolate with cinnamon and chiles. It’ll heat you up, inside and out!” 

“Great!” Amelie set the drinks down by her nine cookies. Wait, nine? But before she could investigate… 

DING-DONG!

Faith and Mei dropped their dumplings near the seven cookies. “If anyone is cold, dumplings were invented as frostbite medicine,” chirped Mei, running off with Camille.

DING-DONG!

Rory, Lachlan, and Fiona tramped in with Scottish biscuits. “Good thing we brought enough to go ‘round,” said Lachlan, eyeing the plate of four cookies. 

Amelie kept holding the door. Ayo, Olumide, Jelani, and Tobi shook off their winter gear. “Nigerian doughnuts,” Ayo declared. “Thankfully Auntie was snowed in with us!”

Amelie surveyed the impressive scene: hot chocolate, dumplings, biscuits, doughnuts… an empty plate!? 

“It’s not the Solstice without my cookies! I made a dozen snowflakes,” Amelie moaned. “One for each of us.” 

“We’re only ten,” said Rory, counting heads. 

“Then we’re missing two… suspects!” Faith declared, hunting for Mei and Camille. 

The kids burst into Camille’s room. 

“Welcome to my Solstice Tea Party!” Camille grinned. The snowflake cookies were sitting in a circle with an array of stuffies. “I have enough for each of you!”

Amelie relaxed. “You planned this for us? How kind.” 

Camille beamed. Everyone found a spot. “To friends and the Solstice!” they toasted.

Hush! Hammock #FallWritingFrenzy

This is my second year participating in Kaitlyn Sanchez’s Fall Writing Frenzy. (You can read all about this year’s contest here.) The challenge is to write a 200-word or less Fall-themed kidlit story based on one of the photographs chosen for the contest. Last year I wrote what felt like a section from a middle grade fantasy quest novel, The Road Ahead. It was a fun departure for me, so I was excited to see what this year’s images would inspire.

Because I love writing stories set in the deep past, I prefer images without people or obviously-modern scenes. That eliminated most of the photographs for this year, so instead I went more for vibes and settled on this image. I hope you enjoy my hammock-inspired board book!

Hush! Hammock

By: Katie McEnaney (c) 2023. 66 words.

One Grandpa sleeping. Sway, sway, snore!
Two legs tiptoeing. Hush, hush, creep!
Three bees flying. Buzz, buzz, look!
Four flowers swaying. Swish, swish, wow!  
Five fingers plucking. Grab, grab, sniff!
Six legs landing. Tap, tap, sip!
Seven seconds passing. Stare, stare, sting!
Eight tears falling. Ouch, ouch, owieeeeee!
Nine hugs given. Squeeze, squeeze, kiss.
Ten hammock pushes. Sway, sway, snore!
One toddler sleeping. Hush, hush… sleep!

Faster, Higher, Stronger #SunWriteFun

Happy summer and happy #SunWriteFun! This annual writing contest, hosted by Karen M. Greenwald is a celebration of nonfiction (and info fiction) in 200 words or less. The theme this year was “Dreams.” You can read all the details – as well as the entries – here.

Faster, Higher, Stronger

(c) 2023 by Katie McEnaney
195 words

The cage jostled. Peristerá’s wing bumped the side. Her keen pigeon magnetic sense knew that this was the furthest she had ever traveled.

But why…

You can read the whole story in Clio’s Curious Dash Through Time!

A Bit of Back Matter

Ok, so #SunWriteFun didn’t allow for art notes (PS this is set in 776 BCE) or back matter, but especially with informational fiction, I wanted a chance to share a little about what we *do* know about this story.

Fact: The first Olympics (as defined by archaeologists and historians) took place in 776 BCE in the city-state of Olympia in ancient Greece. There was probably only one event – a foot race – and it was won by a man named Koroibos, a cook from the city-state of Elis.

Fact: The Greeks were one of several ancient civilizations that used homing pigeons to send important messages. Pigeons did report on the winner(s) of the Olympics.

Implication: Because homing pigeons only fly back to their own loft, this meant that every potential Olympian would have to have brought their own homing pigeons with them *in case* they were the winner! It was this idea (plus the theme of ‘dreams’) that made me think about all those poor homing pigeons who had to travel back from Olympia in their crates with no news to bring home.

Fact: Citius, Altius, Fortius (Faster, Higher, Stronger) is the Olympic motto of the modern Olympics and was added in 1924.

Opinion: I find it very amusing that the motto is in Latin despite the Olympics beginning in ancient Greece.

Question: What do you wonder about homing pigeons or the ancient Olympics?

River’s Secret Ambition #KidLitVibes

Bashful

It’s KidLitVibe time again! You have until Sunday to spin the “wheel of feels” and write a 125-word (or less) story for kids that matches your vibe. This year I spun “bashful.” Merriam-Webster and I had to sit with that one for awhile … I’m excited to hear what you think!

River’s Secret Ambition

By: Katie McEnaney (124 words)
(c) 2023

[France, 15,000BP]

River didn’t run with the other boys.
River meandered slowly.

When they threw rocks,
River threw himself into hidden art projects.

When they chased rabbits,
River chased beams of light between the trees.

When his brothers drew their bows to shoot,
River drew secret pictures with his arrowhead. 

“Boys must protect,” said his father.
“Boys must provide,” said his grandfather.
So River practiced privately.

Until… he thought he would burst.

River crept and crawled into the cavern. 
Torchlight flickered.
Shadows danced like herds of horses leaping along the walls.

His bold fingers flowed across the scene. Reds, oranges, and dark, charcoal blacks. A head, a mane. Prancing, pawing. The horses hummed to life.

River smiled. He had charted his own course.

Lascaux horses

Image of the Lascaux horses, ca. 15-17000 years ago

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.