Black Bear
By Imogen Clements, age 12 Grandma made me out of Grandad’s old slippers. My fur was made of black velvet and my paws were made from the spare room curtains. Back then, Grandma wasn’t a grandma and Grandad wasn’t a g randad. They weren’t even parents. I was made for Molly, their first baby. As soon as Molly came home from the hospital, I knew we would be best of friends. I remember Grandma lifting me up to the edge of Molly’s cradle and whispering in my velvety ear “ T hat’s her ! Black B ear, that’s her!” She lowered me into the cradle, Molly gurgled and held me close, her baby breath tickling my black velvet fur . I was there when Molly said her first words , “Black B ear!” I was so proud. I was there when Molly took her first steps at one years old, dragging me behind her by my blue tartan bow. I didn’t mind. I was there when Molly was four years old, when she took me to school on her first day. Her teacher , Mrs Morris , gave me a chair to sit
