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Love in 1860: Part 5

Love in 1860 (An Easy English Story): Part 5

February 25, 1861

Dear reader,

The snow is melting. I can hear more birds in the morning.

And I am going to leave this house in the spring.

My plan is simple. I don’t want to stay here anymore.

When the weather is warm, I will tell David and Elizabeth, “I am going to pick berries in the woods.” I will hide food under my skirt. I will leave and never come back.

We are living in Virginia. If I walk north, maybe I can go to New York. I think New York did not have slaves in 1861. In movies, some people hide on trains. Maybe I can find a train to New York. I can hide in the back with the animals. I can sleep in the hay.

After David talked with the neighbors in December, I did not talk with him for three weeks. He and Elizabeth were worried. They said, “Don’t be angry. We need to keep you safe. You are not our slave. But if other people know that you are not our slave, they will try to take you. A black woman living with a white family is not normal. Maybe you are from the north. Did any memories come back?”

Not normal.

My mom’s parents were from Nigeria. My dad’s parents were from England and Mexico. Mom and Dad got married in 1997. This life is very normal for me.

I can’t tell this to David and Elizabeth. They can’t know that I am from 2025.

Last week, David gave me a book. It had many pictures in it. “These are pictures of cities in the north. Maybe you can remember your home.”

I looked at the pictures. I pointed to a picture of New York City. “Maybe this was my home…” I lied.

After seeing that picture, I decided to leave after the winter.

Yours truly,
Grace Miller

Part 6>

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Love in 1860: Part 4

Love in 1860 (An Easy English Story): Part 4

December 2, 1860

Dear reader,

I am scared.

Our new neighbors came to our house this morning. I was making breakfast in the kitchen. They knocked on our door. David opened it.

“Can I help you?” David asked.

The new neighbors are a man and a woman. Both of them are about twenty years old. Their voices were friendly. “We’re your new neighbors,” the woman said. “We are building a house near the river. It’s nice to meet you.”

David quickly said, “It’s nice to meet you too.” He added, “Let’s go talk outside. I can show you our barn.”

It was snowing outside, so I turned around. “I just made breakfast,” I said. “Would you like to eat with us? Our kitchen table is small, but it’s warm inside.” I laughed, “David, it’s so cold out! Our new neighbors will freeze.”

The woman looked at me with wide eyes. She whispered to her husband. Then her husband asked David, “Your slave calls you David?”

Slave?!

David looked at the floor. “It’s okay. I asked her to call me David.”

The woman crossed her arms and looked at my clothes. “Her clothes are beautiful.”

“We’re having a party tonight,” David lied. “I want her to look nice for our guests.”

When the neighbors left, David closed the door and sighed. “I hope this war ends soon.”

“I’m not your slave!” I yelled and threw my wooden spoon at him. “Why didn’t you tell them?”

“If they know about our love, they might hurt you,” David said. “Don’t you know that?”

I’m not good at history. But even in 1860, I will not be anyone’s slave.

But I can’t leave David and Elizabeth’s house. Where will I go?

Yours truly,
Grace Miller

Part 5>

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Love in 1860: Part 3

Love in 1860 (An Easy English Story): Part 3

October 3, 1860

Dear reader,

I might like it here. It is so calm. So peaceful.

David, Elizabeth, and I work in the garden and in the barn all day. I feed the chickens, and I take water from the river for the plants. The birds sing in the trees around us. Elizabeth bakes fresh bread for dinner every night. David buys sugar, flour, and butter from the market every week. He makes money by selling furniture.

Last month, I told David, “I want to help you make furniture. You and Elizabeth are so kind. Let me help.” Now, David is teaching me to make a table out of wood. We work together in the barn every night.

Yesterday, David and I were carving flowers into the table. The night was cold. My hand started shaking. David put his hand on mine. His hand was warm and rough.

David asked quietly, “Can I hold you?”

I looked up at him. David looked away. His cheeks were red.

“Yes,” I said.

David pulled me to his chest. He rubbed my back and my arms. “Are you warm yet?” he asked.

I was very warm. My heart was beating fast. But I said, “I’m still cold.” David laughed and hugged me tight.

I felt safe in his arms. I feel safe here. If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up.

Yours truly,
Grace Miller

Part 4>

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Love in 1860: Part 2

Love in 1860 (An Easy English Story): Part 2

July 20, 1860

Dear reader,

I miss my home. I miss my cat, Stripes. I miss my apartment in Boston. I miss riding the subway. I miss my friends. I miss drinking a hot cup of coffee every morning.

The names of the woman and her son are Elizabeth and David. They are very kind. I can’t go back to 2025. Elizabeth asked me, “Where are you from?” I couldn’t explain.

I told her, “I can’t remember.” It was a lie, but I cannot say “from Boston in 2025.”

Elizabeth gave me a hug. She smelled like fresh bread. She said, “You can stay with us in our house. You hit your head, right? Maybe you will remember soon.”

Elizabeth is like a mother. But I miss my own mother. I miss Mom’s big smile. I miss her Jollof rice and fufu. I miss watching America’s Got Talent with her.

Yesterday, David saw me crying behind the barn. I was thinking about home. David walked in, stopped, and left. He came back five minutes later. He was holding a piece of bread and jam. David put the bread in my hands. He opened his mouth. I thought he wanted to say something. But then he left.

How will I get back home?

Yours truly,
Grace Miller

Part 3>

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Love in 1860: Part 1

Love in 1860 (An Easy English Story): Part 1

July 15, 1860

Dear reader,

My name is Grace. I am 28 years old. You may not believe me, but I am from the year 2025.

Last week, I went hiking in the mountains. I fell down. When I woke up, my head hurt. I could not find my phone. It was evening, and the sun was going down. I needed to leave the mountains.

Then I smelled smoke. Maybe someone had a fire. I walked to the smell. I saw a small house in the woods. I knocked on the door. A woman looked out the window. She was surprised, but she opened the door.

“Please help me,” I said. “I fell and hurt my head. I don’t know where the road is. Can I sleep here? Can I use your phone in the morning?”

The woman said, “We don’t have a… phone. But you can sleep here tonight.” She looked around the forest and pulled me inside.

The woman was about 50 years old. She lived with her son. He was about 30 years old. They gave me some bread and a blanket. I slept on the floor. I was tired and went to sleep.

In the morning, I woke up. I looked around. The house had a wood stove. There were blankets on the windows. There were no lights—only candles. The woman and her son were outside in the garden.

I asked, “What is today’s date?”

The son laughed. “It’s July 15, 1860.”

Am I dreaming?

Yours truly,
Grace Miller

Part 2>

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See the World: Part 10

See the World (An Easy English Story): Part 10 (Final Part)

After the surgery, like always, Neil throws up. He doesn’t have time to take out the lenses, so he vomits with his eyes closed. If he sees the cells in his stomach, he will definitely throw up again.

Neil slowly stands up, takes out the lenses, and walks out of his office. The hospital’s hallways look orange in the sunset. Dr. Umar stands in front of a big window. She is crying and smiling. And talking to a news reporter. A cameraman points a large camera at them.

Dr. Umar notices Neil and waves to him. “Neil!” she calls. The cameraman turns toward Neil, and Dr. Umar tells the reporter, “This is Dr. Neil Kalkan. He just finished the cancer surgery with me.”

The reporter waves her hand, asking Neil to come closer. She holds up a microphone. “How does it feel to use such an amazing piece of technology? The lenses, I just…” she sighs excitedly, “can’t believe this is possible!”

The reporter pushes the microphone closer to Neil’s face. Neil is not wearing the lenses, but he imagines the germs on the microphone. Neon pink slime might cover the top of the microphone, even brighter than the reporter’s lipstick. Green spikes might swirl around the handle. Some of the reporter’s yellow breath might float toward Neil’s head. Dr. Umar’s shirt sleeve, covered in tears, might drip with purple and gray germs.

Dr. Umar’s tears flow down to the corners of her mouth. They might be filled with disease. But they are filled with joy. They are filled with life.

Neil breathes in deeply.

The world will never be the same. It will always be filled with spiky, slimy, moldy germs. People will always be weak, always be followed by sickness. But there will always be joy and hope.

Neil grabs the reporter’s microphone, stepping closer to her. “Using the lenses feels…” Neil cannot finish his thought. He grabs the microphone tightly as his eyes fill with tears. Through his tears, the orange sunset, Dr. Umar’s white coat, the reporter’s worried smile, the blue hallway tiles, the green patient chairs, his gray shoes–they all blur together.

-THE END-

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The Cold: Part 10

The Cold (An Easy English Story): Part 10 (Final Part)

We hear guns.

The police shout, “Come out of there now. If you run, we will shoot.”

More gun shots. Then it is quiet.

An ambulance drives by. Then another.

Priya and I wait. Three police cars eventually drive by. Each police car has two people in the back. In one of the cars, I see two of the men from the truck. One is the driver, and the other was carrying the boxes. I don’t see the other men. In the rest of the police cars, there are only women. One of the women shouts at the police officer from the back seat. The rest sit quietly. One looks out the window. Her face is red.

Priya knows what I am thinking. She says, “I think it’s safe. Let’s go. Maybe your dad is there.”

Priya slowly backs the car out from behind the wall. We drive to the large building. Many ambulances and police cars are still parked outside. A news van is also there. Cameramen walk around the building, filming the inside of the large trucks and the metal boxes that sit on the ground.

Police are opening each of the metal boxes. First responders stand behind them. They shake their heads. Police cover the boxes again.

One of the police officers walks toward our car. Priya rolls down her window. “This is a crime scene,” she says. “It’s not safe to be here.”

“My dad might be there,” I whisper.

The woman’s frown becomes soft. “How old is he?”

“50.”

“The people in the boxes are all at least 70.” The woman pauses. “There are more people inside, though. You can come check, but are you sure? Some of them are dead.”

My heart sinks. I don’t want to see Dad if he’s dead. But I want to be sure.

The police officer leads us into the large building. The inside is much cleaner than the outside. The walls and the floor are cold and white. The air smells like bleach. There are aisles of glass tanks. Inside the glass tanks are people. Their skin is puffy and light blue.

“These are the successful ice bodies,” the police officer explains quietly. “A few spas in Clayton are working with scientists. The scientists know how to freeze bodies and melt them after. They started to ask people with diseases if they wanted to be frozen. We looked at the patient information. The scientists kept records. They froze people with any health problem: cancer, diabetes, PTSD, depression. They especially tried to get people with depression. They sent them messages: Do you want to die, but are you afraid? You don’t have to die. Freeze your body and sleep until your problems are gone. People were interested in that.” She sighed. “Sleep until your problems are gone. It sounds great.”

Was Dad depressed? He was never the same after Alex died. He was quieter. He was angrier. I remember Dad’s note. I’m sorry, Alex. If I didn’t buy you that car, you would never have died. It’s all my fault.

I stop at one of the tanks. An old man lies inside. His eyes are closed. His face looks gray. His thin white hair floats in the tank.

I know him.

I saw him at the spa in the mall. He went there to be frozen? Why did he want to sleep? And did Dad go to that spa, too?

The police officer brings me to another room. It is small, like a doctor’s office. But it doesn’t feel like a doctor’s office. A frozen body of a young man lies on a table. Two women stand next to him. They are wearing white coats. Five police officers stand behind the women. They hold guns close to the women’s heads. The women quietly pass tools over the ice body. A yellow liquid is pumped into his veins. Slowly, his blue skin turns a light pink. “He just needs some time to wake up,” one of the women says.

The police officer with me walks over to the women. She points at me. “Her dad might be here. Find him and wake him up.” Her voice is deep, and the other police officers raise their guns. One of the scientists sighs and looks at me. “What is your dad’s name?”

“Henry Brooks.”

The woman looks through a stack of papers. She shakes her head. “Not here.”

The young man on the table opens his eyes. He begins crying for help. The scientists walk away from me and go back to help him.

I run out of the room.

The building is filled with hundreds of tanks. None of them are Dad. If his body isn’t in here, will he appear on the side of the road as an ice body? Will a young girl see his body out of the bus window? Will his arms and legs be covered in blue and purple marks?

I slow down and look at the faces. I notice that the names are in order. Martinez, McDonald, Murano… Maybe the scientist was wrong. Maybe she made a mistake. I need to check.

Bailey, Boushaki, Brenes...

I see him before I see the name.

Dad’s skin looks gray. I see the bones in his arms and legs. Even though he is sleeping, his face is tired. Even if he slept a thousand years, he would never feel alive.

I press my hand against the blue glass. “Dad…” I cry. I look down and see his name printed on the bottom of the tank. Alex Brooks. He used Alex’s name.

The police officer comes up behind me. “Is this him?” she asks. I nod. “Over here!” the officer shouts. She kneels down next to me and hugs my shoulders.

The two scientists use a machine and lift Dad’s tank into the smaller room. They carefully take his body out and lay it on the table. “Melting” him only takes an hour, but it feels like a week.

His skin turns from gray to a warm brown. I see his chest rise and fall as he breathes.

I run over to the table. My face is wet with tears.

I grab Dad’s hand. It is warm. Full of life.

His eyes open.

-THE END-

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The Cold: Part 9

The Cold (An Easy English Story): Part 9

Priya holds my hand with one of hers while she drives. The streets are as silent as ice.

After we arrive at the mall, I tell Priya, “Wait here. If I don’t come back in an hour, call the police.”

“What are you talking about?” she asks. “I’m coming with you.”

My eyes fill with tears. They sting. “Thank you,” I whisper.

Priya and I walk up to the mall’s main entrance. Of course, the mall is locked at 2 a.m., but we wanted to try. “Let’s try the back entrance,” Priya says. We walk around to the back of the cafe, near the trash. That door is of course locked, too.

I begin to shiver with worry. What if Dad is in the freezer in that cafe? What if he is slowly dying, and I can’t get through the door?

I walk around the mall, trying every door to see if someone forgot to lock it. Priya stays by the cafe, pressing different numbers on the lock. Maybe she can guess the password.

We try to get in the mall for an hour, and it does not work. My fingers are frozen, and my heart is heavy. I begin to say, “Let’s go home,” but hear an engine. It’s getting louder. Priya and I hide behind the bushes next to the cafe entrance. A red light shines through the leaves and gets brighter.

A large, white truck is backing up right next to the cafe.

The driver steps down from the truck and throws open the back door. Three more men climb out. They are wearing medical masks and gloves. The driver drops his keys, and another man picks it up and throws it gently toward the driver. They laugh.

Priya and I crouch lower. The men begin unlocking the door. But it is not the cafe door. It is the door next to the cafe.

After a few minutes, the men come out, pushing a large metal box on a cart. They lift it into the truck. They go back inside and get another box. And another. And another. They stack the boxes on top of each other, like coffins. One of the men sits down on the back of the truck, tired and breathing heavily. He says, “I wish I were them now,” and the other men laugh.

The three men climb into the back of the truck, the same as before, and the driver shuts the door. Priya and I look at each other and nod. It looks like they have ice bodies. We have to follow them.

When the truck begins driving away, Priya and I run to the other side of the mall and jump in her car. The truck goes down a long road around the mall. Priya keeps her car’s headlights off and follows them. When the truck gets on the highway, Priya turns on her lights and slows down. “I want to get farther from them,” she says. “They can’t know we’re following them.”

There are sadly a lot of trucks on the road in the early morning. Priya changes lanes on the highway. The white truck is always a quarter mile ahead. After 20 minutes, the truck turns off the highway. Priya and I follow.

We drive for 30 more minutes. The rushing sound of the highway grows quiet. We drive past cow fields. Their eyes shine under our car light.

Finally, we reach a large building. It is gray and has no windows. There is one entrance for people and one entrance for trucks. Neither entrance has a sign. The truck parks next to the big entrance. The driver gets out, opens the door, and drives the truck inside. The door closes with a loud bang behind them. Priya and I drive past the building. We don’t want them to think that we are following them. We stop the car down the road, behind a wall.

Priya and I sit quietly. Then Priya claps her hands together. “I don’t care if we get in trouble. It’s time to call the police.”

I nod and take out my phone. My hand shakes. A woman with a calm voice answers. “911, what’s your emergency?” I tell her about the truck and the metal boxes. I even tell her about the ice that I saw in the old cafe. I hear the woman typing my report down. She then says, “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but fifteen people called us today. They all said that they can help find the ice bodies. I know you want to help, but our police are so busy.” She sighs. “But I’ll send a police officer to see you. He’ll be there in about half an hour. You’re pretty far away from the station.”

In half an hour, Dad could be dead. If he is still alive…

I turn to Priya. “I don’t want you to get hurt, and this is about my dad, so it’s my responsibility. I’m going to that building before the police get here.”

“Ari,” Priya grabs my hand. She is adventurous, but I know that she is scared now. Her cold fingers squeeze my palm. “Those boxes… I think they’re coffins. If your dad is in there…” She shivers.

“I might see his dead body.” I finish Priya’s sentence.

“Why don’t we wait for the police? They have guns, and they can ask them to open the boxes. They can save your dad better than you can,” Priya whispers, “If he’s alive.”

I put my head in my hands and wait to hear the police sirens.

Part 10>

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How I Passed the Hardest Level of the Japanese Language Proficiency Test without Studying

Read this blog post in Easy English or Advanced English below.

Easy English

I hate studying.

I am a teacher, but I hate studying. I think that textbooks and flashcards are boring.

This was a problem when I started studying Japanese. I used some helpful sites to study for the JLPT, a Japanese language test. These sites were JLPT Sensei and Nihongo no Mori, and they were great. But I was still bored.

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I wanted to find a fun way to study.

I am always looking for fun study materials for my students. I want to use books that real English speakers wrote. These fun materials can:

  • Teach about culture
  • Teach vocabulary and grammar
  • Be interesting to read!
  • Help students have fun

I want fun materials for my students. Why don’t I use fun materials to study Japanese?

I asked my Japanese friends to tell me their favorite books, and I started reading. And I stopped using textbooks.

My dream was to read a science fiction book. Sadly, there weren’t science fiction books in easy Japanese. So I started by reading books for elementary students about daily life.

I had so much fun! And I took notes on the vocabulary and grammar in the books. My Japanese got better and better.

Slowly, I read books from different genres: historical fiction, fantasy, and mystery.

One day, I found a science fiction book for adults. And I could read it! Reading for fun helped me so much. I started reading easy books for elementary students, but soon I could read my favorite type of book. I reached my goal!

After reading many books, I took the most difficult Japanese language test: the JLPT N1. And I passed without studying. No textbooks. No grammar worksheets.

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This is the power of reading for fun.

Studying with textbooks is helpful, but the most meaningful learning is fun learning.

This is why I created Fun for Fluency. There are not many easy English stories that are fun to read. Most adults who learn English have to use children’s picture books. But Fun for Fluency has interesting stories in easy English.

You can read different English stories here. There are new stories every week!

Advanced English

I hate studying.

I’m a teacher, but it’s so hard to focus on studying vocabulary flashcards and doing reading practice exercises.

I’ve been teaching myself Japanese for years, and around the time that I was studying for the intermediate Japanese proficiency test, the JLPT N3, I used textbooks and study sites, like JLPT Sensei and Nihongo no Mori. They were useful and I recommend them to anyone studying for the JLPT.

But I wanted to learn with fun materials written by native speakers.

As an ESL teacher, I know the benefits of authentic materials. They help language learners:

  • Understand the target language culture
  • Acquire natural vocabulary and grammar in context
  • Access interesting content
  • Feel motivated

So why wasn’t I studying with authentic materials myself?

When I began studying for the JLPT N1, the most difficult Japanese proficiency test, I decided to do away with study sites for the time being and looked instead for Japanese books that sparked my interest.

I am a HUGE science fiction lover, but unfortunately there weren’t any science fiction novels that were at my level when I started studying for the N1. (This is one of the reasons I created Fun for Fluency, so that English learners can have more access to interesting stories at a comprehensible level.)

I started by reading novels for upper elementary and middle school students that featured topics of daily life. These were much more interesting than practice JLPT articles I had been reading, and I was able to take notes on the vocabulary and grammar I was encountering in the novels and learn them naturally.

As my reading progressed, I began branching out into different genres. I read historical fiction, fantasy, and mystery.

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And finally, the day came when I was able to read a science fiction novel written for adults. I couldn’t believe that I had gone from reading an elementary-level book about school friends to a classic novel satirizing the public’s belief in aliens.

And after being able to read even novels for adults, I passed the JLPT N1 on my first try. No studying.

Reading for fun is what got me there.

There is no problem with studying, and it is at times necessary to learn a new concept. But I 100% believe that the best kind of language learning is learner-initiated and authentic.

This is why Fun for Fluency is so effective. There is such a shortage of interesting materials for beginning learners of English. Fun for Fluency is a growing database of engaging, easy English stories for adolescent and adult learners. It is the gateway to being able to read authentic materials while having fun.

Check out our different English learning stories here. Stories are updated and added frequently, so visit again for more resources!

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The Cold: Part 5

The Cold (An Easy English Story): Part 5

My phone buzzes, and I wake up. It is 2:45 a.m. I don’t know the phone number, but I answer the call.

“Hello?”

“I need your help.” It is a man’s voice. He is whispering.

“Who is this?” I ask.

“I can’t tell you. April gave me your number. She doesn’t want to talk to any reporters. But I do.” He sounds scared.

I quickly get out of bed and turn on my desk lamp. I open my notebook and say, “Go ahead, I’m listening.”

“I saw an ice body.” He pauses. “And I saw where it came from.”

I begin writing down his story.

“Do you remember the news about the ice body behind the shopping mall?” he asks. I remember. It was a 30-year-old man. Trash collectors found him in the dumpster behind the mall. As usual, he was naked, and parts of his body were frozen. His hands and feet were purple, and his ears were black with frostbite. “I walk my dog on the street by the mall every morning. Four people came out of the back of the mall. They were carrying a large metal box. It looked heavy. They dumped the box into the dumpster and carried it back inside.” The man on the phone begins speaking quickly. “I didn’t know it was an ice body! I thought that the metal box was strange, but…”

“Did you see the faces of the four people?” I ask.

“No, I was too far away, and they were wearing face masks.” He pauses. “But when they went back into the mall, one of them opened the door. The back door of the mall is locked with a password. Those people know the password.”

“Did you see them leave the mall? Did they have a car?”

“No. They only went to the dumpster outside the mall, and then they went back inside.”

I have one more question. “Why doesn’t April want to talk to reporters about the ice bodies?”

“She thinks that news stations are killing people… so that the news stations can make more money.”

I roll my eyes. “What do you think about that idea?”

“Well,” he says. “It’s not crazy. The CEOs of WRN and NewsAmerica are both $50 million richer now.”

“Then why are you talking to me? The Observer is a local news station, but we’re still journalists.” I expect him to get angry. When people believe all news is fake, they believe that all journalists are liars.

“I think the CEOs are bad, but I don’t believe you’re bad. You saw an ice body, right? Maybe my story can help save people.”

I need to get to the mall.

There is still a lockdown. The mall is not closed, but the news says that people shouldn’t go out. I can’t drive, and Mom and Dad will definitely not take me to the mall.

I remember Ms. Sato’s words: “We are a news station.  We report real news.  We can’t write an article that says, ‘Maybe the ice bodies are real, but maybe they aren’t.'” She will not be happy with my online research. And the man’s story about the mall body isn’t enough for a full news story. I need to give Ms. Sato a good news story. Or a great one.

I text Priya and Carlos. Can one of you take me to the mall?

Carlos replies quickly. WTF? There’s a lockdown. Why do you want to go shopping?

I reply: It’s for a news story. I’ll explain later.

Priya replies a few minutes later: let’s go!!!!!

And then she sends another message: …but my dad probably won’t let me go…

And then another: but who cares! we’ll find a way.

Priya lives with her father. It’s different from my situation. I live at home because I don’t have enough money to move out. She lives at home because her father was paralyzed last year. He can’t move his legs, so Priya helps with housework.

We both want to move out.

Carlos sends another message. I don’t want to go inside the mall, but I can drive you, Ari. Unlike me and Priya, Carlos has a car and an apartment.

Thank you!!!!!! Is tonight okay? I still don’t know if my parents will let me go, but I make plans anyway.

Carlos will pick me up at 7 p.m., so I go downstairs to tell my parents, thinking of a reason to go. They are watching TV in the living room.

“So I need to go to the mall tonight for work,” I say strongly.

“Your boss wants you to go to the mall?” Dad asks.

“Yes,” I lie. Ms. Sato didn’t ask me to go, but I’m going for work. Close enough. “I know you’re worried. So I asked Carlos to go with me.” Mom likes Carlos. He likes to bake and brings a pie or pastries every time he visits.

“Well, if Carlos is going…” Mom says.

Dad frowns. He stands up and walks upstairs. “Do whatever you want.”

I didn’t get a “yes” from Mom or Dad, but I didn’t get a “no” either. I’m not going to argue.

Part 6>