My Daughter's Story

Thought it would be fun to have a look at how creative my 11 year old is. She's created a world of characters, named originally after herself and her friends (Sam, Kim and Michelle) called Sakimi. Here's how she explains them and the story that follows:

 Sakimi is the name of a race of creatures. There are many different kinds of Sakimis, including the griffin-like Eaglio and the ferret-like Flaret. this story mentions three species of Sakimis, Dilediles, Jios and Pheenixies. Dilediles are forest green crocodile-like creatures with a cream colored lower jaw and stomach. Their back is covered with rounded brown spikes. Jios resemble tan jackals with a cream colored chest and tail tip. Their most unique feature is their navy blue mask, which has pointy ears and a spike near their snout. Near their throat is a purple jeweled collar lined with rubies. Pheenixies are massive fiery birds. The story describes their appearance, so I won't need to. Below the text is a picture  of the Jio (Arkrama) and the Diledile (Jorous). Sorry, these are really bad... They look better when I sketch them.

 Mystery of the Jio

        The Desertian sun sank into the dunes. The darkness of night enveloped the endless sky. The palm trees leaned to the east with the strong wind.
        Jorous the Diledile watched the nightfall. His eyes soon grew tired, and he drowsily trudged off towards his nest. He buried himself under the cool sand.
        Sometime around midnight, a dark figure arrived near Jorous’s den. Her lean form was hidden by shadows, but she appeared to be a canine-like Sakimi. In her paws she held a scepter and an axe, a rough white robe was wrapped around her waist, and a small sack was hung over her shoulder.
        Jorous woke to the sound of her gentle footsteps. He emerged from underground, spooking the journeying creature. It was a Jio, standing on her hind legs. She kneeled down, holding her axe at Jorous’s throat. He sputtered out a strange grunt, and shielded himself. The Jio swung the axe over her head, and was about to hack apart the Diledile when she saw his terrified, innocent face. She dropped the axe into the sand.
        She stared at his face, his eyes closed in fear. Jorous opened his eyes when he realized he wasn’t going to be killed. The Jio towered above him, remaining perfectly still, as if time had froze.
        The young Diledile was still too. The Jio’s voice broke the silence. “Who may you be?” she asked in a mysterious, wise voice.
        Jorous hesitated. Should he trust this traveler, who had nearly torn him to pieces? Making his mind, he bravely declared, “I am Jorous. You are on top of my burrow,”
        The Jio took a step backwards. “I am Arkrama, warrior of Desertia. I am on a quest to become stronger,” she explained. Jorous was about to ask why she wanted to become stronger, but Arkrama cut him off.
        “I am journeying across this O’ mighty desert, for it bustles with formidable enemies.”
        “Why are you trying to become very strong? Aren’t there better things to strive for in life than strength?” he asked, sounding quite intelligent. Arkrama lowered her masked face, at eye level with the Diledile.
        “Wouldn’t you want to be the strongest Sakimi in the world?” the Jio hissed.
        “Well, that would be nice, but I’d rather-“
        “See? Even you want to be strong,” Arkrama rose, picked up her axe, and prowled into the darkness. Jorous dashed after her. The Jio turned around.
        “You must want to become strong as well. Fine, Jorous. I have longed for a traveling companion, and you seem smart and sensible enough to become mine,” Arkrama assumed. The Diledile didn’t expect her to say that. Actually, he didn’t intend on asking to come along with her. He stood there, as Arkrama continued walking.
        “Are you coming, or not? Young lad, this choice is yours. You don’t need to come with me. But I highly recommend you do so. You’ll become much stronger,” she bribed smoothly. Jorous couldn’t let the opportunity pass.
        “Yes,” he growled.  He stepped towards Arkrama, and they ventured into the night.
        He looked at the Jio’s navy blue silk mask. All Jios wear them, and he wondered what was underneath it. He pictured a face similar to that of a Wolfin, with a pointy tuft of fur. He remembered his mother telling him that no one had ever seen under a Jio’s mask except for the creatures themselves. The thought of his mother saddened him.
        She was a very kind Diledile, and always enjoyed helping others. That was, until one night, when she had left the burrow, but never returned. The same became of Jorous’s father.  Jorous believed that they had run away for an unknown reason. He just didn’t want to think that they had been killed, which may be the truth.
        Thinking of Arkrama’s face again, he decided to ask the Jio. “Arkrama, what does your face look like?”
        She froze, giving Jorous a cold stare. “Jios’ faces are a very personal matter. Every one of us had pledged never to tell or show anyone what we truly look like,” Arkrama snarled.
        “Do you look like Wolfins? Or like something else?” the Diledile asked, curiously. The Jio ignored him.
        It was soon morning, and Jorous was exhausted. “Arkrama, can I take a rest? I am very tired,” he questioned. Jorous gave him a glare full of disgust.
        “Warriors only sleep when it is truly needed. Your soul tells me you are not that tired,” she growled, angrily.
        “My soul… told you something?” Jorous asked, confused.
        “No, Jios have strong psychic powers. We can reach into your soul to find your body’s needs and current state, and your mind to find out your darkest secrets,” Arkrama told him. Jorous instantly understood.
        “Have… have you entered my mind yet?” the Diledile gasped.
        “No. It is impolite of us to read Sakimis’ thoughts without an important reason,” she said. Jorous let out a sigh of relief.
        Arkrama turned towards Jorous, and grunted, “You need to learn how to fight. It is impossible to become stronger without fighting,”
        “You can become mentally stronger without fighting,” the Diledile noted. The Jio narrowed her eyes. “Yes, you can. But that is not the point. Our quest is to become physically stronger,”
        “Arkrama, you seem rather intelligent, but all you seem to talk about is becoming stronger. That to me isn’t very smart at all.”
        “Yes. I am already very wise. To become the greatest Sakimi of them all, I must be strong,” she bragged.
        “No one can be the greatest Sakimi of them all. That is impossible.”
        “Nothing is impossible. Now stop changing the subject. You need to learn how to fight,”
        “Here we go again…” Jorous sighed. Arkrama rolled her eyes.
        “You need a weapon. I know just who to call,” the Jio flung the sack off of her shoulder. It landed at her feet. She dropped her two weapons, and shuffled through the bag. Arkrama finally pulled out a small flute made from a Trihorn’s horn.
        She tugged on the bottom of her mask, and she stuck her instrument in. Curious Jorous tried to look under the silk mask, only to be shoved away by an angry Arkrama. The flute made the mask stretch, and Jorous realized she didn’t need her paws to play it.
        He could hear the sound of her breathing into it, but was puzzled that no music or sound came out of it.
        “Is it broken?” Jorous asked.
        “No. It is a magical flute, that only the great birds of fire can hear,” her answer was stiff.
        A few seconds later, the silhouette of a bird pulling a cart came into view above them. It circled the sky, gradually losing height. When it was about twenty yards above them, it stopped circling and began plummeting to the ground.
        Jorous was fascinated by the size of the Sakimi. It stood three stories tall. Besides being tall, its tail and wings were made of fire, and the Diledile was surprised to see that the cart hadn’t been burnt. The majestic creature’s feathers were the same color as fire, and a golden red mane stretched down the back of its neck. 
        “This is Eirkru, the Pheenixie. He is the best blacksmith in all of Desertia,” Arkrama spit out the flute. Eirkru bowed. The Jio turned towards the Pheenixie. “Eirkru, this is Jorous. He has become my partner, and needs a new weapon,”
        “Jorous,” Eirkru repeated. He closed his eyes. “Greetings, Jorous.” The Pheenixie stepped a few feet forwards, and pulled the cart towards the Diledile.
        The cart was stuffed with weapons of all sorts, some in jeweled cases, others in dark sheathes. Jorous first opened a box studded with emeralds. Inside was a dagger made of gold. Its handle was shaped like a Cobralia’s head.
        “No daggers. Daggers do not make you stronger, since all you have to do is pierce your foe’s throat,” Arkrama instructed.
        “So? All you need to do with an axe is chop someone’s head off! There’s no difference!” Jorous complained.
        “There is so. You need strength to swing the axe. Axes are heavy. Daggers, however, are very light. Killing someone with one of them is like touching someone with your paw,” the Jio protested.
        “If you are strong enough to use an axe properly, how do you grow stronger every time you battle someone? And how does killing someone immediately boost your strength? I thought strength was gained through harsh battles!”
        “The taste of victory boosts your fighting spirit, therefore pushing you to achieve higher in battles,”
        “So strength only exists in your mind?”
        “Of course not!”
        “Arkrama, you make absolutely no sense to me. You just told me about your “fighting spirit”. Well you know what? For all I know your spirit might not even be real,”
         “How dare you say that! Spirits do so exist. Jios can sense the presence of spirits, whether they are contained within a living vessel or roaming freely! Even so your spirit and your fighting spirit are two entirely different things!”
        “I am talking about your fighting spirit!”
        “All you said was ‘spirits’,”
        Jorous and Arkrama continued to argue. Eirkru let out a deep breath. He growled in annoyance before taking off with the weapon cart behind him. “If all they’re going to do is argue, they are not worth being served. I have much nicer customers in need of decent weapons that I could be dealing with right now,” the Pheenixie muttered as he soared away.
        As soon as Arkrama realized that Eirkru was gone, she elbowed Jorous away, screaming out to him. She couldn’t tell if he was trying to ignore her, or if he was too high in the sky to hear her desperate shouts.
        “Great. This is all your fault. You should’ve just gone with a stupid hammer or axe or whatever. Jeez, I don’t even get your fascination in that darned dagger,” the Jio snarled.
        “It looked pretty-“
        “Pretty? Is that all you care about in a weapon? Pretty isn’t the point! How would pretty help you in a battle?” Arkrama cried, hysterical.
        “I was going to say ‘pretty, yet lethal’,” Jorous argued.
        “Yeah right. Just take this stupid scepter of mine. I never use it anyway,” Arkrama furiously hurled her weapon at him.
        “I’m surprised you’re still letting me be your partner,” Jorous murmured.
        “You’re lucky that I kept you,” the Jio sneered.
        Jorous grumpily scooped up the scepter. He watched Arkrama throw her flute back into the bag and hang it over her shoulder. She grabbed her axe and said, “Come on. Let’s go.” The Diledile sleepily walked after her, his feet sinking deep into the sand with every step he took.
        “Stop. Your soul says you are truly tired. We shall rest,” Arkrama sighed. The Jio fell to her knees and began scratching sand from the ground. She quickly dug sleeping holes for each of them…
        When Jorous woke, he found that Arkrama was already awake. She was seated in the sand, her eyes peacefully closed.
        “What are you doing?” Jorous asked.
        “I am meditating. I am calming my mind, which is active with wild thoughts from earlier,” Arkrama explained. She didn’t turn to look at him.
        “How do you do that?” Jorous begged.
        “You must focus on one thing. Something that soothes you. I focus on victory,”
        “Hold it! You said victory boosts your fighting spirit! That doesn’t seem very calming to me,”
        “Well, you’re different. So, what calms you?” Jorous thought for a while. He then answered, “My mother.”
        “Your mother? That’s pathetic. And babyish. What’s the matter with you, you seem awfully like a wimp to me. I should’ve gone for a different partner,”
        “My mother is dead. What you just said really insulted me,”
        “You must cope with dying. It happens to everyone. And insults, oh insults, are nothing compared to the wounds you get while fighting,”
        “Real nice. Don’t you have parents? Have they died?”
        “Of course I had parents. They died, yet I felt no sadness.”
        “How is that possible?”
        “Anything is possible,”
        “Why do you always say that?”
        “Because I speak the truth,” Arkrama stood up. She quickly grabbed her axe. “Fight me,” she hissed.
        “Why would I want to fight you? You pose no threat to me.”
        “I do now. Come on, this is training for you,”
        “You’re not going to kill me, right?”
        “Not unless you keep on complaining!” Jorous bounced up, scepter in hand.
        “How do I fight with one of these?”
        “You can find it out,” Arkrama barked. Purple fire emanated from her paw as she chanted a spell.
        “Ready? Go!” she cried, leaping into the air. Jorous slid out of the way as Arkrama smashed her axe down. The Diledile whacked her back with his scepter.
        “Nice try,” Arkrama purred. The Jio nimbly pounced over Jorous’s head. She slammed her weapon into his flank. Jorous expected intense pain, but he felt nothing. He glanced at where the axe had struck. There wasn’t even a scratch on his green scales.
        “Wha…? How didn’t that hurt me?” the Diledile asked.
        “I cast a spell on the weapons. They are basically made of air now,”
        “Since when can you cast spells?”
        “It’s all part of being a Jio,” Arkrama laughed. Jios were becoming even stranger to Jorous.
        “Now c’mon!” she screeched. She pounded his head with her axe. Jorous whipped Arkrama’s masked snout with his scepter. She retaliated by smacking his thigh with her weapon.
        “That is enough,” Arkrama shouted, “Now we must find some real enemies,”
        “How do you find enemies?” Jorous questioned as he dropped his scepter.
        “Anyone in this desert qualifies as a foe,” Arkrama grumbled.
        “What do you mean by ‘anyone’?” Jorous asked, confused.
        “I mean it literally and truthfully. Anyone here is to be fought,” Arkrama growled.
        “Are you raving mad? You’re telling me anyone, from the most fearsome Dragio to the most docile Diggadon is to be fought?”
        “Yes. That is what I said.”
        “You’re kidding me. You kill innocent Sakimis, all for strength that may not even exist?”
        “Yes. In the matter of fact I almost killed you when we first met,”
        “I do remember that. Right now, I’m considering going back home,”
        “You will never,”
        “Why? You said you doubted that it was the right decision that I became your partner!”
        “I was exaggerating. You are stubborn, but a stubborn Sakimi usually makes an amazing warrior,”
        “Goodbye,”
        “Take one step and you will say goodbye to your life,” Arkrama readied her axe, but Jorous remained still. The Jio closed her eyes. She appeared to be concentrating on something.
        The Diledile dashed away from his unwanted master. Arkrama’s eyes shot open, and she tossed her axe to her side. She pounced onto Jorous’s back, pinning him to the ground. He flipped over, meeting Arkrama’s menacing eyes.
        “I read your thoughts,” she rasped, “You’re mother and father were two of my first victims. I recognized your images of them.” Jorous wanted to yell, but he was so shocked that he couldn’t.
        “Now your entire family will be dead together,” she sneered, “All killed by Arkrama, Desertia’s greatest warrior!”
        The Jio’s left paw hovered over Jorous’s throat, ready to strike. Quickly, he grasped Arkrama’s mask and yanked it off.
        To his surprise, there was nothing under it but a dark cloud, and two gleaming eyes, full of hatred.
        “No… no! No, no, no, no!” the cloud of smoke howled. The eyes were soon engulfed by the smoke, and the same substance began spilling out of her neck. Arkrama’s body vaporized, ending the Jio’s malicious life. Jorous was released.
        He slid the mask over his head. “All warriors deserve to die,” he whispered. Grabbing his scepter from a few feet away, he swung it over his head.

The end… For now….