Scribble Buddies
Where education and fun collide!
C.E. King
Children's Author
I received a bachelor's degree in musical theatre in 2004 and an MBA in 2012. Since completing my MBA, writing has turned into a passion. However, it was not until my son was born that I turned toward writing for children. I began writing an adult novel and reached the halfway point when I realized how much I wanted to be writing for a younger audience.
Since changing my path into a focused journey toward children's literature, I have written several early readers, short stories, poems, and picture books. I constantly explore new themes, styles and ideas. ​
​
Over the past several years, I have had the pleasure of learning from children each and every day. I serve as the director for a performing arts program that sees hundreds of students every week. I also am the co-director of a summer art academy where we have classes in every art discipline imaginable, including culinary arts and creative writing. My books are also inspired by these kiddos.
​
I have the great fortune to be represented by Lindsay Auld of Writers House LLC.
Swaying
In the heart of a forgotten meadow, where green grass met golden leaves, an empty hammock hung that no one dared to touch.
​
The crisp autumn air whispered secrets as it rustled through the trees, allowing leaves to dance their farewell waltz.
​
Every evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, children nearby gathered to witness the eerie phenomenon.
​
They shared tales of the hammock's haunted past; stories too spine-chilling to speak of in broad daylight.
​
Some said it was cursed by a mischievous spirit who appeared on deepest, darkest nights.
​
Others claimed it was a portal to another world, with only a peal of phantom laughter echoing through the stillness.
​
But what truly sent shivers down their spines was the sight of the empty hammock swaying gently in the breeze, as if beckoning them to take a seat.
​
No one challenged its mysterious invitation, for they knew that once you entered its embrace, you might never return.
​
So, as the nights grew colder and the leaves withered, the empty hammock remained an
​
unsettling mystery,
a silent entity in a web of whispers,
where the unknown lurked in the shadows,
waiting for someone brave enough to unravel its chilling secrets.