Planet Maker
By Edoardo Albert
I couldn’t ever imagine leaving, so when we did, I took it with me. Honestly, I didn’t mean to take it all. I just meant to fold up a mountain range and some fields, and maybe a lake or two to remind me. Daddy always says I don’t know my own strength and before I knew what was happening, it was all wrapped up; mountains, seas, continents, even the crinkly, fiddly bits down the coast that I’d spent ages and ages and ages drawing.
In the rush to get ready, no one noticed what I’d done, but now we’re nearly at our new home and Daddy says there’ll be work here for aeons, so what do I do with it? Maybe I should just keep it in my pocket. Daddy would never know I’d brought it then. But really, I reckon I ought to unpack it. Gosh, I hope it’s not broken. If it’s all right, maybe I could even give it an orbit. Daddy’s eyes have got so black from sun-staring, he might not even notice a little planet if it isn’t right up next to the sun. Maybe if I hide it here?
Yes, that’s just right.