What to do when off school for days or weeks before Pesach? Think about matzah, that’s what! We asked local young people for 50-word stories with the word matzah in them.
What unleavened gems we received!
There once was a little old woman and a little old man who lived alone in their little old cottage. The two had heard stories of gingerbreadmen and whatnot, but alas all they had was matzah. So the little old woman and the little old man made themselves a matzahman!
—Lydia Lancina, Whitefish Bay
He ran through the woods, the sounds of branches cracking behind him. Closer and closer they came, but he got to it first. Nudged into the spindly, white Y-split of a birch tree, it was all his. A sealed, unsalted box of matzah.
Matt had always loved pizza. One day, he finally opened a small shop in the middle of town but couldn’t decide what to name it. As Passover approached, he figured out the perfect name: Matzah. A combination of both Matt and pizza(h)! It was genius!
—Zach Duckler, Mequon
“It’s yummy, like candy,” my cousin Lucas smirked as he passed me a spoonful. The bright pink dollop of horseradish jiggled as I brought it closer to my mouth. Cautiously, I ate it. My tongue burned, my eyes stung. There was only one solution: matzah. I grabbed a fistful.
“Go!” mom yelled. There was no time to waste. $5 was riding on this. Under the couch? No. On top of the bookshelf? No. Where could it be? “Found it!” No! Not again. Maybe next year you’ll find the afikomen. At least the matzah with a little jelly was good compensation.
Two siblings ran into their kitchen. Both grabbed the delicious box of matzah. “I want matzah!” one yelled. “No me!” the other yelled. “Dah?” their baby sister gurgled. “Know who’s going to eat the matzah?” their mom asked, “ME!” she laughed, stuffing the last of the matzah into her mouth.
—Elliot Lippman, fifth grade, Milwaukee Jewish Day School
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