I am posting this story, in honor of my son, the author. He didn’t grow up to be an all-star basketball play, as stated in his biography, but he still enjoys playing the the sport, for recreation. The original book that this appeared in was illustrated, by him, when he was 10 years old. It was kept in a file cabinet that was unluckily drenched by a leaking humidifier, thus explaining the rusty appearance of the pages. I reproduced the drawings with photography, and thought it of value to retype the script.
One Last Chance
Written and Illustrated by Francisco Bravo
Dedicated to my grandpa, and Ben.
I woke up early on a Saturday morning. Right when I got out of the shower and washed my face, I went outside to shoot some hoops. Then I just remembered it was Saint Patrick’s Day. So I decided to search for leprechauns.I went deep into the dark woods and saw something move. It ended up being a leprechaun. I found the little guy near a swamp. He had a white shirt on with shamrocks all over it. The pants were the same only the opposite. His hat was solid green. The best thing was that I still had my eyes on him.We were good friends, but we both wanted the gold. The whole time, when I first met the leprechaun, I thought I would find the gold. Even through all his nasty tricks, I thought I could win it.The little leprechaun led me to a field of fresh pumpkins. “Do you care for a beautiful orange pumpkin?” the leprechaun exclaimed. “The pumpkin looks good, but it would be hard to carry, and you will get away because of its weight.” I answered. “Very well then, I will make you have more hard, exhausting troubles,” the leprechaun answered back.The next problem came when the leprechaun led me to some rich, red-looking raspberry bushes. “Do you care for a bag full of raspberries?” he shouted. “That is extremely nice of you, but I will be too tempted to look at the tasty raspberries and you will get out of my sight.”Next we went to a tree where his gold probably was because there was an ax there. He was ready to chop another beautiful tree for the third time when he thought of one more trick. I had no clue what it was about. He started telling a sad story about a boy’s mother dying in a car accident. When he was finished telling the story I was crying tears bigger than a Tsunami tidal wave. When I stopped crying I didn’t see a little man in his special outfit because I didn’t keep my eyes on him. All I saw were thin strands of nice green grass!About the Author – Francisco likes to do things with his friends. He was born in Willimantic, Connecticut. He goes to Annie E. Vinton Elementary School in Mansfield, Connecticut. He has written four books in the year 1999. His favorite hobbies are basketball, soccer, football and pool. His plan for the future is to be an all-star basketball player.
On Tiffany Creek 