Fredericks Story

by Joel

In a hot summer afternoon, just as it finished raining, under the leaf of an oak tree, stood a scared little insect. His name, Frederick. Frederick was a mosquito. He had been born in this forest, just 2 days ago. The food around him, in the mosquito egg was gone. Now he was hungry. But what could he do? Where could he go? All the other mosquitoes, all 2000 of his brothers and sisters had left hours ago. He was by himself.

He started to cry. But there were no tears, mosquitoes have no tears. But he smelled something. Something that reminded him of something special. He did not know what. But he felt he had to go to where the smell came. So, even though he was terrified of the rainwater still falling like drizzle, he took off flying towards the smell.

Oh how sweet it smelled. So soothing. So delicious. That was it. Food. What kind of food. He did not know. But he had to have some. So he flew as fast as he could avoiding being hit by drizzle drops. Around the trees, across the forest. Being careful to avoid the spider web. Why? He did not know, he just knew he had to avoid them. Keeping low to the ground, just in case. Then he came to a clearing in the forest. The smell was now stronger. He turned to see around him. There was something in front of

him. Moving. And it was making this loud noise. Frederick could not understand. What was this thing?

It didn't matter, the smell was coming from this thing. He had to have it. He flew towards it, around looking for a place to stand. Parts of it smelled more than others, so he decided to land in a brownish area. Oh the sweet sweet smell. He had to have some. But how does he eat it. He couldn't bite, he had no teeth. The thing was too big to swallow. His mouth, a tiny little straw couldn't. But hold on. The thing had holes.

From those holes, things that looked like tree trunks came out. The smell was stronger there. "If I sink my mouth into one of those holes, maybe I can taste some of the sweet stuff", Frederick thought.

And just as he did..



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