Stories come in all colours of the earth

Blue like the sky

Gold like ripe rye

Black like a dark bee

Green like the sea

Stories come in all colours of the earth

 

They can be short, they can be long

They can be weak, they can be strong

They can be funny, they can be sad

They can be scary, they can be mad

They surround us like the air we breathe

They are all different, all unique

 

Like flowers, like raindrops, like people

They come in all colours of the earth.

They live with us. They live within us.

We all carry stories. We are all stories —

 

Where we come from or

Why we are here

What we wish for, dream of, and

What we fear —

Stories of love. Of pain. Stories to learn.

I will share mine, then you can share yours in turn.

Everyone is a story of growth,

everyone has a story to show.

We’re different at first, and all unique.

With our minds, bodies, the language we speak,

but we’re all people still. People, all

facing the same moon, the milky way,

held by the same air we’re breathing today

on this one earth we share with so many stories around,

like stars, like colours, there are too many to count:

 

Red lights a fire for a Mahogany song

then invites Ruby and Carmine to write along.

Pink celebrates spring memories

White is busy with snow summaries.

Chocolate brown is a tale for those with sweet teeth

Rose, Rouge, and Peach are the pulse of the cheek.

 

Imagine we’d miss a colour shade

Imagine we’d miss the story it made,

and with it the person that lived in its lines

that sees its true colours. That decides if it rhymes — or not

That knows its worth, that is shaped by its word

Because stories are people

That come in all colours of the earth.

Reading age: 8-11

Reading time: ca. 20 mins to read aloud

Themes: self-esteem; self-confidence; self-image; self-awareness; what makes you unique; appreciating your strengths; being yourself; don’t compare yourself to others; what you’re good at; bullying; school-setting

 

Ben couldn’t sleep. Tomorrow was his 10th birthday, his Sparkday. This meant tomorrow he would finally find out what his spark was, his hidden superpower – whether he could speak to birds like Clara, or see a day into the future, like Michael, or maybe even stop time for ten minutes, like Jack.

At least he should find out what his spark was tomorrow. Most kids in his class had already discovered their sparks when they were 8 or 9. Jack had already impressed everyone by stopping time in class when he was 7. But he, Ben, was almost 10 now, and he didn’t have any special powers at all. No super speed, no X-Ray vision, nothing. Sometimes Ben worried that he didn’t have any spark. What if he woke up tomorrow and felt just the same, just like a normal, boring boy who was not special at all? 

Ben rolled over to lie on his back, trying to find a comfortable spot on his pillow. He didn’t dare to think what the other children would say if he showed up without knowing his spark tomorrow. They sometimes made fun of him anyway because he was a bit short for his age and because he was living with his grandmother. And he was good at English, which most of the other kids hated. Ben’s stomach lurched at the thought of Jack’s face when he couldn’t tell the class his spark tomorrow. He stared at the ceiling, his heart pounding, imagining the surprise, the laughter, and Jack’s sneering voice… “No spark… I knew it, you’re just a normal kid, nothing special about you...” Jack’s laughter grew quieter and his face slowly faded into darkness, as Ben finally drifted off to sleep.

Bright sunbeams were streaming through the curtains and fell on Ben’s face. He blinked. For a moment, he was just lying there, his mind still muddled with dreams and sleep. He faintly noticed a hint of a sweet, sugary smell, almost like… Ben blinked again. Suddenly, he remembered what day it was. His Sparkday! The smell grew stronger - his grandma must be making sparkcakes in the kitchen. He jumped out of bed, wide awake now, feeling both anxious and excited. Today was the day - today his spark would finally come to life! Perhaps he now had the power to make himself invisible? Or lift really heavy objects, like trees and cars? Perhaps he could silence people at will, that would be cool - he could finally make Jack shut up!

Ben looked himself up and down to see whether any spark powers were visible. At first sight, he couldn’t spot anything out of the ordinary. There were no wings sprouting from his back, no gills on his neck. His swimming teacher, Ms Monroy had gills, which was very handy. Ben held out his hands and inspected them, clenching and unclenching his fists. His grandma had once told him a story about somebody who could emit flames when he snapped his fingers. Ben snapped his fingers, but nothing happened. He tried a few different things - clapping and rubbing his hands together. But it had no effect. His hands didn’t look any different. Nor did the rest of his body. From fingertips to toes, it just looked like it had yesterday. Worse, it also felt like it had yesterday. He couldn’t sense any sign of any special powers at all.

A heaviness started to grow inside Ben’s chest. He desperately looked around the room. Not all sparks were visible - most actually weren’t. Perhaps he had a special spark stare? Perhaps he could lift objects when he concentrated hard enough? Perhaps he could speak another language and just didn’t know it yet - like Clara with her ability to speak bird language. But Clara also had told him that she knew right away, when she woke up on her Sparkday, that something was different, that something had happened. She said it almost felt like there was a magnet that pulled her out of the house, to the nearest tree, where she started a conversation with a bird while her parents were cheering from the window. 

Ben didn’t feel any of that, unless you counted that spreading power inside him that made his whole body feel heavier still, so heavy he had to sit down on the bed. There he was, plain, boring Ben, on his Sparkday, sparkless. The only child without a spark at the whole of Luminara Elementary. 

“Ben, dear? Are you awake yet?” Without any warning, his grandmother appeared in the room. Ben was used to this and didn’t even flinch. Teleportation was her spark. Everybody had a spark - everybody except him. His stomach twisted.

“What’s the matter, Sparkboy?” asked his grandma. “Why are you sitting here, all gloomy? I made sparkcakes, your favourite ones, with extra syrup if you want.” 

“I’m not Sparkboy, Grandma,” Ben whispered. “I can’t do anything. Everybody else is special, but I’m not. Everybody in school will make fun of me.” His eyes were burning. His body felt so heavy, he couldn’t lift his head.

“I see,” said his grandma. She sat down next to him and put her arm around his shoulder. They sat in silence for a while. Then his grandma said, “So the other children in your class have already discovered their sparks?”

“Yes,” said Ben in a choked voice. 

“And what can they do?” 

“Michael can see into the future and Clara can talk to birds,” said Ben, feeling heavier than ever. “And Grace grows a mermaid’s tail whenever she’s in the water and Liam can run super fast, but everybody thinks it’s not as cool as Kate’s spark because she can run even faster.” 

“Really,” said his grandma. 

“And Jack can stop time,” Ben added.

“Hmm,” said Grandma, giving his shoulder a little squeeze. “And what else can they do?” 

“What do you mean?” Ben lifted his heavy head a little and looked at her. “I just told you, Clara can talk to animals and Jack can stop time and -”

“No, no,” his grandma interrupted. “I mean, what can they do that is not their spark? This Jack guy - can he make up any good games during recess? Does he know any good stories? Is he funny?”

Ben thought about it for a moment but didn’t really have an answer. They only really talked about sparks all the time - well, Jack did, anyway. And Ben didn’t think he was particularly funny, unless you counted laughing at others.

“Is he good at remembering things?” his grandmother went on. “Does he like maths? Is he good at English?” 

Ben had never spent much thought on this. He wasn’t sure how Jack was with numbers, but in English, it was always him, Ben, who could answer the teacher’s questions and whom the other children asked how to spell difficult words. 

“And never mind Jack or the other children,” his grandma said. “What about you? Didn’t you win that reading competition last month? Didn’t you go to the corner shop all by yourself yesterday without forgetting a single thing? Didn’t Clara share her chocolate cake with you just the other day because she thinks you were the nicest boy in the entire class?”

Ben nodded. He felt a little less heavy. But still - these were not spark powers, were they? Just normal stuff, him being him.

“But these are not sparks, Grandma,” he said sadly. “These are just … me. Nothing special.” 

“Nothing special,” his grandma repeated. “Tell me, how many other children in your class can remember 15 things without using a shopping list?"” 

“I - I don’t know,” Ben said quietly. 

“And what about Clara - did she share her chocolate cake with anybody else?”

“No,” he said, a little louder.

“And did anybody else win the reading competition?” 

“No,” Ben said proudly. “It was just me.” 

“That’s right, just you,” repeated his grandma, smiling. “Wow, I would say all of that makes you very special and very sparkly, don’t you think?” 

Ben said nothing, but he could feel a lightness spreading through his entire body, pushing the heaviness away. From his toes to his non-fire-emitting hands, he felt much better. Maybe his grandma was right. Maybe he didn’t need a spark to be special.

His grandma ruffled his hair. “Our sparks don’t make us who we are, Ben. Tell me, what good is it if you can stop time but you don’t know how to spend it. Or if you can grow a mermaid’s tail, but you can’t even remember how to spell mermaid. If any of the other kids give you any trouble, you can tell them just that. You were always special, and you always will be, and I don’t care whether you can lift mountains with your eyes or change the weather with your little toe or … or clean the toilet really fast with your left hand.”

Ben chuckled. “Really, Grandma,” he said, “I’d rather stay as I am now and have no spark than have toilet-cleaning powers!”

“Well, there you go,” his grandma grinned. “If you need any more proof that the sparks are not as important as you think, just look at me. Did my teleportation spark help me make sparkcakes for my favourite and very special grandson this morning? No, it was just me and my cooking skills. 

“And you know what,” she added and got up from the bed, “those sparkcakes are about to get cold. What do you say, Sparkboy - why don’t you come down and have some and then we’ll take you and all your sparks to school?” 

Ben nodded and hopped off the bed. It was going to be all right. Being Ben was all right, superpowers or not. 

“Can I have extra syrup on my sparkcakes?” he asked. 

“As much as you want,” his grandma said. “But only if you try to outrun me first.” She winked. “I’ll give you a 10-second headstart, starting in 1…2 ...” Without asking any further questions, Ben dashed towards the stairs. Outrunning someone who could teleport was pretty much impossible but that never stopped him from trying. But as he ran down the first steps, trying to put one foot in front of the other as quickly as possible, something else happened instead.

It was like a jolt that surged through his whole body, making it feel light and full of energy. Taken by surprise, Ben stumbled and fell forward. For a moment, he felt like he was going downhill on a rollercoaster. Then his whole body became sort of weightless. His feet left the ground. His legs were pulled into the air, followed by his arms, his hands, and the rest of his body.

And then Ben flew.