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  • Hello, welcome to Storyline Online brought to you by the Screen Actors Guild Foundation.

  • I'm CCH Pounder and today I'm reading Sophie's Masterpiece by Eileen Spinelli, the Illustrations are by Jane Dyer.

  • It's a spider's tale.

  • Sophie was no ordinary house spider. Sophie was an artist.

  • She spun webs more wondrous than anyone had ever seen.

  • Her playmates called her incredible. Her mama was proud.

  • Someday, they said, she's going to spin a masterpiece.

  • When Sophie arrived at that age when a young spider must strike out on her own, she moved to Beekman's Boardinghouse.

  • The first thing she did was look around. She saw dull green walls, faded rugs, and old window shades. The place cried out for her talents.

  • Sophie set to work. Her first project was to weave a web of curtains for Beekman's front parlor.

  • Day after day she whizzed along, blending a golden thread of sun into her silk.

  • Then one day the landlady noticed her and screamed, "I'll have no spiders in my parlor!" She swatted at Sophie with a dust rag.

  • Sophie knew when she wasn't wanted. She scampered across the wall and up the stairs into the tugboat captain's closet.

  • When she finally settled down, she looked around and saw nothing but gray. Gray shirts. Gray pants. Gray sweaters.

  • The captain needs a new suit, Sophie decided. Something bright. Blue. Like sky.

  • She began to spin patiently. A sleeve. A collar.

  • 'One day the tugboat captain caught Sophie at work. He screeched, "A spider!"'

  • Then he climbed onto the windowsill and out onto the roof. Sophie did not want anyone falling off the roof on her account.

  • She scuttled out of the closet, down the hall, and into the cook's bedroom slipper.

  • Cook's bedroom slippers were patched and dirty.

  • I'll spin Cook a new pair, Sophie thought. After I rest a bit.

  • No sooner had Sophie snuggled into the toe, than she was being flung to the floor. Was it an earthquake? No.

  • 'It was Cook who had shaken Sophie out. "Yuck!" scowled Cook. "Look at that ugly, disgusting spider."'

  • Sophie's feelings were hurt. With great dignity she journeyed across the rug and under Cook's door.

  • She made the long, long climb up the steep stairs to the third floor where a young woman lived.

  • Wearily Sophie slipped into the young woman's knitting basket and fell asleep.

  • By this time, many spider years had passed. Sophie was older.

  • She only had enough energy to spin a few small things for herself

  • …a tiny rose-patterned case for her pillow, eight colorful socks to keep her legs warm. But mostly, she slept.

  • Then one day the young woman discovered Sophie.

  • Oh, no, thought Sophie, close to tears. She knew she did not have the strength for any more journeys.

  • But the young woman did not swat at Sophie with a dust rag. She did not climb on the roof. She did not say that Sophie was ugly. She simply smiled.

  • And without disturbing Sophie in the least, the young woman picked up her needle and yarn.

  • Sophie watched as the young woman knitted, day after day.

  • "Booties!" cried Sophie. The young woman was going to have a baby.

  • After the booties were finished, the young woman knitted a baby sweater. Then the yarn was gone.

  • The young woman did not have enough money to buy yarn for a baby blanket.

  • "Never mind," the landlady told her. "There's an old brown quilt in the hall closet. Your baby can use that."

  • Sophie had seen that quilt. It was scratchy and drab. Not fit for a baby.

  • Sophie knew the answer. She would have to spin a blanket herself.

  • In her younger days, this would not have been a problem. But Sophie had grown frail and weak.

  • The baby was due any day. Could Sophie complete the blanket in time?

  • She climbed out of the yarn basket. She traveled to the wide windowsill. Strands of moonlight fell into the room.

  • Excellent! She thought. I'll weave these strands into the baby's blanket. Some starlight, too.

  • Sophie began. As she spun, new ideas came to her.

  • She worked them into the blanket . . . snippets of fragrant pine . . . wisps of night . . . old lullabies . . . playful snowflakes . . .

  • Sophie spun without blinking. Or eating. Or sleeping. She was never more exhausted. Or determined. On and on she spun.

  • She was down to the farthest corner of the blanket when she heard the cry of the young woman's newborn baby.

  • And there, on that farthest corner, is where Sophie wove into the blanket her very own heart.

  • That night as the young woman was about to cover her infant with the landlady's quilt, something on the windowsill caught her eye.

  • It was a blanket, so soft, so beautiful as to be fit for a prince. The young woman knew this was no ordinary blanket.

  • She placed it with love and wonderment around her sleeping baby. And went to sleep herself with her hand upon the little spider's last spinning.

  • Sophie's masterpiece.

  • The End.

Hello, welcome to Storyline Online brought to you by the Screen Actors Guild Foundation.

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