LHS Virtual Writing Center

This is a journal entry that I wrote for Mr. Mitchell’s class… I liked it and figured others could read it for enjoyment too. (hey, it’s the first short piece I’ve put out here!)
We finish up the lesson and I sit on the mounting block as I hold Phia’s lead line. Phia, our Norwegian Fjord pony, lazily stands facing me as we wait for the next child to come in for their lesson. The barn is quiet with an occasional bird chirp. The cream colored dun lowers her head to my level and stares at me. I stare back and can’t help but feel amazed at the beauty in her big brown eyes. I feel like I could stare into them forever without blinking. I wonder what kind of things she has seen, and how she views them. What kind of stories would she tell if she could speak? I reach out and softly touch her cheek. I let my hand glide over her rough fur. “What kind of things have you seen?” I whisper. I  smile as she slowly blinks. I try to imagine if she would remember leaving her mother and what it was like. She probably doesn’t remember or care. Does she remember former clients for her therapy lessons? Would she recall one child that she loved more than all the others? I smile as I try to picture what a horse story would sound like. There are so many questions that I would have if she could speak, but because she can’t I get to imagine as I stare into her big, beautiful, all-knowing eyes.

I can’t speak or feel or see, but I can hear the scream of despair. It’s shooting through my body and I just can’t believe it. The weeping children cannot understand as the shadows of fear eclipse the land. there is no hope, no help, no end with so much blood, so much pain, and too much death. The mothers tears and fathers sorrow deprived of liberty will never laugh again. Is this really our civilized world where love and reason stand as sacred words. The world seems to go round the bend and everywhere there is corruption. We let ourselves be blinded, nobody sees the truth. How do we tell the children the difference, between good and bad? Especially if we don’t know where the border lies.

The Sam Everett Road is a road in Fort Fairfield, Maine where all of the crazy people live. There is Herman the drunk lives in his old potato shack, James the mentally challenged forty-year-old who always cleans his house, and then there was the St. Olaf family with tulips planted in a clear circle around their house. They had to be the strangest family on the face of the earth with odd traditions like no other family. Unlike all of the other families in Fort Fairfield, Maine the St. Olaf family didn’t harvest potatoes. Every fall Fort Fairfield High School would let out school for three weeks so that all the families could harvest the potatoes. Since the St. Olafs didn’t harvest potatoes they would go on a vacation to Mexico.
The St. Olafs were all ready to go on their yearly three week vacation, but there was something that was stopping them. The toilet needed to be fixed, and there were no plumbers around in all Fort Fairfield, Maine during potato harvesting season. The St. Olafs didn’t want to have a plumber come into their house when they were gone, but they really wanted to go on their vacation to Mexico.
One hot sunny afternoon a man in a long black coat with a bag full of chainsaws came and told the St. Olafs that he had overheard about their problem. He had given them only one name to call him by and it was Mr. Plumber. The family jumped on the next plane that left Fort Fairfield International Airport and flew all the way down to Mexico that night. Mr. Plumber had told them it would take him all three weeks to fix their toilet. Only God knows what was wrong with that toilet.
It was obvious the St. Olafs weren’t the sharpest tools in the box. They were leaving a man with a bag full of chainsaws at there house for three weeks all by himself. Mr. Plumber cracked open a beer and lit a cigarette as he sat on the bathroom floor and looked at the toilet. He hadn’t a clue what a plumber was supposed to do, he wasn’t a plumber. He was just a homeless man that stalked the St. Olafs.
The St. Olafs arrived in Palomas Mexico, a very poor city. They loved vacationing in Palomas because they always felt very rich around the poor people. Mr. St. Olaf reserved five rooms for each person in the family. The St. Olafs can afford to do things like this because they are so rich when they are in Palomas, Mexico. The entire family wasn’t worried at all about Mr. Plumber living in their house
While the St. Olafs were enjoying Palomas, Mexico Mr. Plumber was attempting to fix the toilets. The third day of his stay at the St. Olafs house he decided to begin to work on the toilet. He began buy cracking open his twentieth beer and lighting his fortieth cigarette and staring at the toilet for the eighty-first hour. He looked at the toilet, and then looked at the chainsaws lying on the floor. What could he possibly do with a bunch of chainsaws that would fix a toilet? He thought and thought for about three hours then it came to him. It was the best idea he had ever thought of. First he needed to find where the St. Olafs kept their scissors. When he found then he began to cut up the wires in the chainsaw and throw them into the toilet and right when he was about to flush the toilet he remembered that he always put toilet paper in the toilet when he went to flush it, so he needed to add some toilet paper. Three rolls of toilet paper and five cut-up sets of wires from five chainsaws sat in the toilet. Mr. Plumber pushed down the flush handle and it all went down the toilet smooth as a baby’s bottom.
The end of the three week vacation for the St. Olafs and for Mr. Plumber was coming to an end. Strange things were happening for both of the families too. The St. Olafs had been talking to another rich American in Palomas and he had mentioned of a man named Mr. Plumber who came and fixed his toilet. The St. Olafs had forgotten about the plumber who was living at their house, and thanks to the other rich American they remembered. The rich American began to explain how Mr. Plumber flushed twenty gallons of Cherry-Coke down his toilet and how he had demolish his house due to the fact it was completely ruined and reeked of cherries.
The St. Olafs jumped in their car and zoomed all the way to the Palomas National Airport. They boarded the next plane to Fort Fairfield International Airport. It was a six hour flight, and it felt like twenty hours to the family. They were terrified they may have to move due to a “Cherry-Cokeified” house. When they finally arrived at the airport they jumped into their Micro-Bus and went 80mph through the usual 25mph Main St. When they turned to the Sam Everett Road the entire family became silent. What may be awaiting them may or may not be welcoming. The suspense was killing them.
The five St. Olafs busted through the front door of their house. The lights were on, and a warm fire was in the stove. The sink worked fine, the downstairs toilet flushed. Everything seemed to be fine. Mr. Plumber came out of the guest room and greeted them and told them he would be on his way and expected no pay.
The St. Olafs went to be that evening without any worries. The next morning when Mrs. St. Olaf went to bathroom in the upstairs bathroom she let out a scream that would awake the aliens on Mars. The family rushed to the upstairs bathroom to find tulips growing out of the toilet! How did the tulips get in the toilet? The youngest St. Olaf went outside and saw toilet paper growing where the tulips used to grow.
The St. Olafs never knew what Mr. Plumber did that because the tulips to grow out of the toilet and toilet paper to grow from the garden, but Mr. Plumber gave them the gift that kept on giving. Endless supply of “Tulip Paper”.

“I don’t believe in killing civilians, and I’m not going to kill civilians for the United States Marine Corp.” This is what I stood for going in– but things change when you are there– when the bullets are buzzing by you– when the smell of death is in the air– when the chaos begins. “We killed a lot of innocent civilians. To us every civilian in Baghdad was a terrorist.”I must stay; No more will I remain the same. “They said ‘they are now in civilian clothes’ that makes everybody free game. I honestly feel we’re committing genocide over here.”I am convinced my God has never loved Himself in me. “When we would pull the body out, and when we would search the car, we would find nothing. This took place time and time again. No harm, no foul, that’s OK, don’t worry about it, because this is a new type of war, this is an eradication.”

(Quotes are from a Marine)

snoflurie-ex.txtThis was my free write for last quarter. I really like it and am thinking of making it into a little picture book for fun. So, if you could see if anything needs to be changed or whatnot your comments would be appreciated. Thankyou.

This is the fifth book in the Artemis Fowl Series(I think). I started reading the series when I was younger and still love it today. It’s full of action,fantasy,and mystery. I think it’s something that would appeal to a wide audience.
The series is about Artemis Fowl, a boy genius, who uses his talents to keep his family wealthy. He’s all about strategy and rational thought. But, then he discovers a colony of faeries and it changes his whole life. That all starts in the first book. By the fifth he’s dealing with demons, but I don’t want to give anything away. Seriously, you should check this book out, I know I’m bad at summaries so disregard my ineptness and read it. Youll love it, trust me. (I’d start with the first book if I were you)

Something that’s easy to talk about, I would think, is your favorite dessert. Personally I could write at least 3 pages about ice cream, though I digress(hope I used that right). Well, you could describe the flavor, texture, when you first discovered it. Hope that helps.

This is just a litanalysis for Mr Mitchell. To be very honest I feel my writing shows my ignorance because I’m not so great with my native language. Any feed back to help fix it would be helpful, particularly with the thesis and conclusion.

“Give me liberty or give me death!”, a quote made famous by Patrick Henry in his speech against the British. The power and effectiveness of this speech came from the rhetorical devices used within it. His use of metaphors gives his ideas imagery. The use of rhetorical questions enhance his argument because the answers are obvious. His repetition by using anaphora and parallelism also heightens his argument by intensifying his point or stressing meaning.
Parallelism and anaphora are very similar to one another both are repetitious, and achieve the same goal of strengthening an argument. “We have petitioned; we have remonstrated; we have supplicated; we have protested ourselves before the throne, and have implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the ministry and parliament.” is a great example of parallelism. This helped get the point across that they have done everything, and none of it has worked. “But when shall we be stronger? Will it be next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house?” This example of anaphora helps with the understanding that, that was the peak of their military strength.
Rhetorical questions are questions with an obvious answer, which aids in the argument. In this speech Patrick Henry uses many rhetorical questions, without the use of these the speech wouldn’t have been as powerful as it was. “Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled that force must be called in to win back our love?” The answer was obvious to the people in the Virginia Convention and it showed them just what they’ve been doing wrong.”Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs and hugging the delusive phantom of hope until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot?” This question told them that they are pretty much giving up and hoping for peace to find itself.
“I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that is the lamp of experience.” This metaphor is telling use that his experiences help guide his way through life. He relates this to a lamp because it does the same thing in the dark. “They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains which the British ministry have been so long forging.” His reference here is saying that the English have been enslaving the people, and that the soldiers are there to enforce it. further proving his point for the need to fight England.
Using Metaphors made the point that England has enslaved the US and that his experiences tell him to fight. Rhetorical questions helped them realize that we were giving up early and we need to not use force to get back love. His repetition strengthened the point that we have done everything we can, and we should fight now because we are at our strongest point.Using these rhetorical devices aided him in convincing the House of Burgess to go to war.

When I was running out of ideas for journal entries an inside joke about our tennis coach popped into my mind. So i basically wrote about how the joke started but made it more fictional. It was actually kind of fun to do and very easy. So maybe writing about inside jokes would be an interesting thing to have for a journal entry.

Well, here goes the first one. Although I can be a political person at heart, I’ve never really allowed it to intertwine with my writing. This is a new experimental thing, a whole new avenue…even though it didn’t begin with more than a general idea and a general jab at politics. It evolved into this. It’s a pretty rough draft at the moment, looking for much feedback…what works and what doesn’t. Thank you in advance

-Chris

—

Settled beneath the feet sat pebbles, which, despite being solid, maintained a sorrowful structure. Like the emotions that are like fuel to the juggernaut of the soul, they are fragile, but have shown a unique level of endurance. Of a once more collective life with a boulder, or a cliff, or some other stone structure, they’ve grown separated; separated from family, home, and have been forced out on their own. It is the weaker the infrastructure of unity is permitted to become, that contributes to the degrading state that overcomes the best of everything. It is what reduces something or someone from a proud and strong tower of power into a series of forgotten, minuscule pebbles.

The pebbles were settled upon a steady, lonely plateau. This cliff itself was a randomly and beautifully crafted product of nature’s obsession with precision (although appearing just nothing more than a series of unrelated fusions and fissions, it is all Mother Nature’s brilliant trickery and illusionary habits with her atmospheric friends and her own meddling beneath the skin of Atlas’ trophy and burden. That Mother Nature, she has a method to her madness). Solitary, but not confined; just alone. The years promoted a skirmish with man and nature. The cliff did not weep, for it had a heart of stone. Once upon a time, there were rampant waters drowning the ground and small veins of cracks that carried soldiers of rain, deployed by the nimbus airliners of the great above. This kept the cliff a cool entity. But this would be a denied reality as life went on. Bursts of dangerous things, fallen from man-made fliers, and the damnation of weather hacked away. The canyon itself conformed to change, submitting to all the hellish modifications, natural and man made. The world was changing, the weather was changing; there was not a thing more that the cliff could do. It was much like a P.O.W. forced to succumb to the degrading and dehumanizing conditions of it’s captor.

The cliff was not alone, for it had a companion. It was the creation of nature, but one that rose in rebellion of. It was much like moderate religious goers who claim Christianity, but do not believe; there is a disconnection with the perceived creator. It was not the fox who devours the prey that lives throughout the forest, nor was it the lion who owns the open savannas of Africa, dictating the general order of events; it was man. One man in particular, stood out. It was not a man by gender, for the gender was not known, but just a man, as in the general reference to humanity. For countless nights, this man has joined the cliff for sunset, but while remaining in hiding during sunrise. The flowers would open themselves up for the sunrise, but soon wither and die, with a burning vengeance of a now-Venus reminiscent sky. Sunrise once introduced such themes as awakening, but now promotes damnation.

The world has undergone a lot of change. Am I republican or am I a democrat? Am I Hispanic or am I Caucasian? Am I intellectual or am I inventive? Am I Christian or am I atheist? There were days when division was inexistent, at least beyond the hounds of territorial borders of Eden and Babylon. These days had long lost themselves, and have progressively entangled itself in a growing series of conflicts that would draw the many lines of prejudice, in a monument of discrimination, supported by the pillars of cliché. It was upon these continuously cracking grounds, that the foundations of cooperation would soon evolve from a soft warning jolt in the crusts of the Earth into a full-scale, Richter scale defying quake. The spears would soon shift to cannons and eventually reach bombs of nuclear magnitude. The innocence humanity was deprived through devastation, with such little remorse that it also costed the health of the world that never ceased protecting humanity.

The winds seemed to draw further for normality with each and every day. The foul stench that carried through it, surfing the shifting air. The stench served as a reminder of every new carcinogen, every new danger, and every new source of negativity that was being created. It was worse than those who seek solutions in vain, like trees who do not eliminate carbon dioxide and still seek the credit. The world grew no better in the face of hypocrisy. Statues crumbled as civilizations engaged in an indirect war with Mother Nature. The atmosphere was skinned alive and left to bleed with no ozone left to protect the internal organs and veins of her body. Every plant, every animal, every insect, every fish; they would all learn to die, with one catch: without the continuation of their species. The response was aggressive, as Mother Nature evolved from a passive, reserved woman into a vengeful, aggressive witch. The fury of punches would extend themselves from the hearts of Bermuda and Cuba and swipe right up the eastern seaboard of North America. The hunters would soon become the hunted and the bleeding would soon inflict the identical sensation upon the hearts of thousands. The house of Earth was breaking like a family bent on abuse and conflict, with a constantly accumulating smog like the brothers and sisters had a Cuban cigar in their mouth as they exchanged piercing words and painful thrusts of the fist.

But the purposes are unclear, of where the wars begin. Do wars begin with the recklessness of a race, who claim they are being singled out? Do the hurricanes seek to trump the tropical storms in uncontrollable vanity, crushing hills in the avalanches sparked by the storms that engage their wraths for the sole purpose of domination? Perhaps the man wasn’t much different than the cliff-or vice versa. Is there such a horror, however? The disruption of environmental politics and the understanding by the intrusive homo sapien would be astronomical-or damning. It was the ultimate downfall, to attempt to save the world while defiling the opponent, which is much like juggling a ball of glass and a double-edged sword. That’s just making life much more dramatic; but this is not high school, it is dealing with the terminal cancer that is on the edge of existence for the world. No end was in sight, as much as anyone liked to believe. It was much like the theories of Atlantis, Global Warming, or bipartisan politics; the myths range far and wide, and it’s a justifiable thought to think, that most are incapable of reading between the lines. The purchasing of indulgences to gain right to step on the grass of a sacred lawn does not justify the damages already and continuously carried out. The man was well aware of the damages his people have done. Is this why he hides in shame of the sunset, but awaits the sundown in hopes that the closing could be the last of the devastating days of damnation.

Of all these thoughts, the question remains, of who of these do they belong?Are they the thoughts of a stubborn, lonely rock formation that has become as stone hearted and impenetrable as humanity, or of the wandering nomad who had become as brittle, breakable as the cliffs of the world who lost control of their destiny?

 I’m thinking of entering this in a contest, and  am looking for some input. I also need ideas for a title… ???

 The scent was irresistibly fresh and Zephyr, the young wolverine, could sense that he was very close. He had been tracking the old doe for three days now, and was becoming impatient. The deer had been unable to keep up with her small herd, and Zephyr knew that this would be a fairly easy catch. He had previously made the mistake of trying to get her too early, and almost lost the meal. He was ready now. The time was right as the doe stopped to take a drink from an icy-cold stream.

Zephyr advanced cautiously, slowly creeping, desperately trying not to startle his prey into escaping. His brown-black coat was blending with the dead autumn grass, making him almost undetectable.  A soft snarl rumbled in his throat – this doe had evaded him long enough. Hunger clawed viciously at his stomach, something he was long used to, but now it was overwhelming. He needed to eat.

            As he stalked the oblivious doe, Zephyr heard a soft rustle in the long grass opposite him, beyond the deer quenching her thirst. Before he could react, a massive timber wolf of a deep, ruddy gray color lunged unexpectedly out of the reeds. Zephyr released a ferocious snarl and leapt onto the doe’s back, clawing viciously. The doe dashed off, throwing Zephyr to the ground, and the timber wolf stopped, staring. Zephyr was infuriated, and as he slowly started to rise, there was only one thing on his mind. He must have revenge. He let out a wicked snarl, and glared back at the oversized wolf. There was no way out unless Zephyr himself was killed. This was a fight to the death. The wolf seemed to know exactly what was going on, and challenged Zephyr by baring his teeth, hackles raised, and snarling. The wolverine was furious, and lost all common sense. He went into a frenzy, solely aimed at killing. The timber wolf lunged at him and Zephyr growled, and stepped out of the way. The agile lupine whipped around, and lunged again. The wolverine had had enough. This was the stupidest creature he had ever met. Though only 40 pounds, Zephyr could take down any animal. He could scare a mountain lion away from a kill, and had driven off an entire pack of wolves from a meal before. Who was this creature that dared challenge him? Zephyr shook with rage, as he bounded towards the timber wolf. Before the lupine had a chance to do anything, the wolverine sunk his teeth into the animal’s neck, but the thick fur would not yield easily. The wolf struggled free, leaving Zephyr only with a mouthful of fur. The wolf yelped in pain, then bounded away at a blurring speed. The young wolverine took a moment to catch his breath. This would not be the first time a challenger retreated from this kind of fight, and it would not be the last.

The intolerable pains of hunger were now gripping Zephyr’s stomach with such ferocity that if food wasn’t found fast, he would die. The wolverine staggered around, the weight of starvation was making him dizzy. Suddenly, an injured snowshoe hare bounded toward the small stream. It was apparently unaware of Zephyr. The rabbit stooped to drink, and Zephyr caught site of it and focused on the meal. Slowly, desperately, he stalked the animal until he was within six feet of it. The hare was almost finished with the drink, when the wolverine lunged at him, locking his jaws around the rabbit’s throat. Death took the large hare quickly, and Zephyr started consuming the self-provided meal. All hunger pains started to subside, and after he had had his fill, he went on his way, satisfied, and strengthened. 

…Sometimes in life, you find a special friend, someone who changes your life by being part of it…

…Sometimes you find a friend who makes you laugh until you can’t stop…

…Someone who makes you believe that there is a good part of the world for real…

…Someone who convinces you that there is an unlocked door just waiting for you to open it…

…Someone who changes your rainy days in warm and sunny days…

…Someone who is very special for you…

These are forever your friends!

      A friend is , maybe , the other half of you. He/she is the one you rely on every day, and the one you love spending time with.

     A friend fills our lives with happiness and dreams come true.

    Do you believe in friends?

 I do believe in friends; in healings brought by tears, smiles and in shared stories; in relations formed on trust and truth…

I believe in the power of one hand holding the other one, in moments of pain and in miracle of spontaneous smiles and hugs.

I believe that a friendship values more than all great things of world. A friendship settles down in time and it requires respect, love and truth.

It would be better to prefer fewer friends( as quantity) , but true ones( as quality).

Because a true friend would always try to find words to thank you that you filled his/her life with dream came true and unforgettable memories.

  My friends mean the world to me. They represent me, and I care so much about them. My friends and I complete each others’ lives.

I think journal entries can be turned into short stories or papers. I use my journal entries sometimes for my writing I take one or two journal entries and expand on them.

Write about the “highlights” of your sport or job soemthing cool or intresting that happend vent about work or school if things are going tough.

What do you think it would be like to be disable. How would you be disabled? How would you get through your day? Would you be sad and need people to help you or would you find your own way of doing things?                       

   Going to college? what are you going for? what will it be like?what will you do if you don’t? where will you live campus or off? partier, studier, or find a balance? Will you be happy what you do or just doing itto make others happy? Describwe what you tink life would be after college and you have the degree (hopefully)?           

What is amazing to you? clouds thta take wierd shapes/forms? Planes and how they fly? your favorite animal and behavior? a life of a plant. Describe what is around the plane are their birds near the plane that is fyinghow do the birds react how do the clouds take a new form after the plane passes by? Are you amazing do you amaze yourself?

vent on soemthing like life hows it going write a story about yourself but put it in a different view if you want it personal your best writing comes from when you really mean it. write when your furiated or OVERLY happy!

How do you think it would be travel in a time machine? Where would you go? what would it look like? why would you travel to that time? wold you even want to travel?

Locked out of some place

Write about the time you lost somethign or soemone that was close

The dentist office like it or not why why not whats it like

characters out of the oridinary smurfs, unicorns, ligers, cat and dog put together. what would the situation be like what would they eat.

Why do we have a spleen, an appendix, or wisdom teeth

For this story you can insert any name you would like but there are only three characters one boy and two girls I’m sure you can figure out which is which. Input would be much aprreciated there will be names on my final draft for the portfolio

Cave-people

There once was a cavewoman, her name was (Name), and she was standing by a fire. Yes, she made the fire and was free of any burns. She was with another cavewoman, her sister (Name), and her boyfriend caveman (Name). Cavewoman (Name) went to go put a big piece of wood in the fire and she made a cavy sound. It went like this “OOOUHGK”. She made the cavy sound because the piece was so big that she almost fell in. Picture this someone grasping a big piece of wood; hunched over, arms full length out, then slipping in a fire trying to keep balance. I bet you would make a weird sound whether it be “OOOUHGK” or “AAA”; from being startled

Cavewoman (Name) looks up at the two other cave people, they are laughing at her. Cavewoman (Name) is laughing so hard she can barely breathe. This results in (Name) to laugh extremely hard. (Name) looks at both of them like they are crazy because they are still laughing about five positions of the moon later (five minutes). (Name) went to hurl some paper and wood in the fire but it did not go in. She got frustrated and made another cavy sound, it sounded different “AAARGHU” she said from aggravation. The started another laughing riot. The rest of the night (Name) was trying her hardest to be quiet. Of course, that did not happen.

All three of them, went for a walk, they found something extraordinary. They had no idea what it was. They looked around it, went inside, they were so interested in the lights that were flashing, and pulsating. They looked at each other and said “OO”, “Ogphm?” Who really knows what they were talking about they were just learning how to speak and pronounce letters. They pushed a cluster of buttons. WHOOSH, VROOM, PSSSH, TSSS! All of a sudden, they were in a room. They looked around and saw a bed. Caveman (Name) was on the bed jumping on it and he kept hitting his head on the ceiling but he proceeded.

They looked towards the right and saw a few people staring at them all bewildered. They cave-people thought they were just on a more advanced side of their land. There were two girls and one guy. They all had black light paint on their faces. The guy had a beard and the cave people thought that they must have known them. The people were painting on the wall, so when the cave people were just about to give them a hug. The people dropped everything, and ran. The cave people continued to look around and saw a television; they did not have much interest in that.

One thing catches their eyes out of all the miscellaneous objects on the computer desk. It is a lava lamp. It is still heating up so they sit and watch it, the bubbles start to go up and there are “AAWS” all around. They become so amused with it, (Name) touches it and gets burnt, and “FUMRGK” she says. They all look at it puzzled. Wondering where the fire is. Not able to figure it out they follow the cord thinking the heat is traveling through it. (Name) gets zapped from sticking her fingers in the outlet. They give up looking for the fire. (Name) shakes the lava lamp, the big bubbles turn into miniature bubbles. There is one big bubble and three medium sized bubbles hanging out at the top of the lava lamp. All three of the cave people are sitting or standing staring at the lava lamp. (Name) notices a face in the big bubble and medium bubbles. The one big bubble is the shape of the head and the three medium bubbles are the eyes and mouth.

For them it is a spectacular sight seeing the face and fizzy looking bubbles.

Any ideas would be helpful its a free choice for the portfolio 

The Struggle

Once upon a time, there was this young girl, she was about ten years old. This ten year old had major problems. As she reached middle school, her problems seemed to get worse. She had unbelievable stress. It seemed as bad as an adults stress is. I was selfish and did not pay attention to her. I was not a very good friend in that way. In about eighth grade I paid a little more attention to her. She wanted to change. It took her a long time to. She was a very secluded girl who pretended she was happy. It did not register to me until late eighth grade that this girl probably had major problems that made her that way.

I knew her parents got divorced in fifth grade. She was a daddy’s girl, and she was pretty close to her mom. She had an older sister just like I do and they did not get along very well they had many fights. After a year or two, they got a tad closer, and they continue to. As for the young girl, she tried to grow up to fast, made bad decisions, and did not have much consideration to help her in anyway. In late eighth grade she began to get help, she saw a therapist. Someone was actually going to listen to her and help guide her. I was never there I never helped her the only thing I did was say “You need help”

Ninth grade came along and she had to go talk to a couple district attorneys. She was sad for a couple days after she talked to them. I just told her to wait for next week to talk to her therapist. This young girl was trying so hard to be a normal teenager, but many things were holding her back she knew things had to change. In the ninth grade, the girl got into some trouble. A big old’ SUSPENSION! Popped up. There is not much to say about that just that I was very disappointed and her parents were to. In tenth, grade things got a little better for her. She was trying so hard to get back on track of her schoolwork, so she was not behind. She wanted to go to college she had all these big dreams. She said, “Nothing is going to stop me” She did not want her past to bring her down, what her past is, is her past, she is leaving it like that.

Although she got through some problems, she had another huge one to face, one she was going to tell her parents soon. She could not help it; as much as she tried, she just could not get out of the hole that kept getting bigger. The young girl was overwhelmed the past couple days. She was thinking of how to confront her parents, what she would say, how she would react. She was constantly thinking about being “six feet under”, but she kept pushing. When she had let her parents know they were devasted. She felt so relived because she knew she was cared for but she had gotten something big off of her chest and everything had gotten better fro m there on. Nothing was going to happen to her anymore and she found out how many people actually cared for her. She found out how many people actually like her being around. From then on, she has been cheering people up even more.

This is my fre choice paper for my english portfolio. I thought that you may get some enjoyment out of this little mystery…

Who Started It? 

            The decision was still unclear, but the Superintendent knew what he had to do. Both of the boys had been guilty of brawling on school grounds and calling each profane names, but still the decision to punish, was still unclear. What had willed these two children to want to strike each other, on not only school grounds, but also wanting to strike one another? Even though this may seem like the worst situation for the Superintendent, he does not have to make his decision alone. With two significant witnesses on the scene, the superintendent called them in and sought over what they had said about the situation. In making his decision to talk to the parents of the students, he recalled what the witnesses had said right before he opened his mouth to speak.

            “Would Madison Williams and Jacob Davis please report to the main office, Madison Williams and Jacob Davis,” was heard over the intercom throughout the school. Both of the confused students had an idea of what was going to happen, but remained optimistic about their fate. They walked into the office and the principal appointed them to the Superintendent’s office. Slowly, they made their way into the medium-sized cubical and sat down in the conveniently placed chairs in front of them. The Superintendent showed up immediately after the students had walked into the room. “Good afternoon,” said the Superintendent and the students responded with the same phrase. With both students looking at each other and wondering why they were where they were, one of them bravely asked, “Is there a problem sir, I have a math test that I’m very urgent to get back to,” said Jacob, “And I have to finish writing a paper for my English portfolio,” added Madison. Looking at the Superintendent, the students saw that he was about to speak, “Do not worry, I got you both excused from those for right now, I just need your help at this moment. Do you think that you can help me out here today?” Both agreed by nodding their heads in approval. “Thank you so much for your cooperation, this will only take awhile.” A long awkward pause filled the room and the Superintendent was the first to speak to break the long pause, “Do you recall the brawl earlier this morning, which happened right in front of the library, I was told that both of you were near by at the time of the incident.” Both of the students strangely sighed in relief and the Superintendent thought nothing of it. “I will talk to you both individually right now so I get compare stories. So if you would, Jacob, I know you have a class right now, so would you proceed to leave my office and go to your class and comeback in about 30 minutes. Here I will give you a note.” Jacob sat in the chair looking a little worried, then finally sat up as the Superintendent gave him his note. He left with no emotion, closed the door very slowly, and walked out.

            The Superintendent did not waste anytime in trying to figure out why the brawl had broken out.
Madison started hesitant to begin with, but eventually went right into her perspective on the situation. “W…w… well, umm I was in the library and… umm… I had seen umm… Owen approached my boyfriend Blake and… Owen suddenly, sorry this is hard for me, but umm.. Owen suddenly pulled out a knife and he looked at it. It looked as if he did not know he even had it with him. Blake then saw the knife that Owen was holding and then tackled him for the safety of our school. It got a little fuzzy after that and I do not really remember anything because I have not talked to Blake all day. That is about all I can recall from the incident, but if anything else comes up in my memory I will be sure notify you.” After the ten-minute long speech from
Madison, the Superintendent seemed pleased, thanked her for her cooperation, and said she was free to go. This left about five to ten minutes for the Superintendent to soak it all in and try to write anything that was significant about what
Madison had saw about the situation. Right as he had finished writing down what was important, Jacob Davis knocked on the door.

            “Come in, it is unlocked,” said the Superintendent, and in came Jacob. Jacob sat down and without any hesitation, he went right into his side of the story. “What I remember from this morning’s incident was that I was walking with ahh… Owen and he pulled out a knife in front of me and I was, to say the least, puzzled. I did not know what to do or what to say because this was a little umm… frightening. I had known Owen for as long as I can remember and he had a knife in front of me. All of the sudden, I had seen Blake charging at Owen, and before I could say anything Blake and Owen were going at it. I tried to stop it, but look at me. I am not going to do any damage to anyone. That is about all she wrote.” “Thank you so much, you do not know how much this helps me out,” said the Superintendent after being bombarded with a mass of information at once. As Jacob left, he did not know that he had accidentally left a very important note to him behind. The Superintendent saw this note after awhile and opened it. After recovering the evidence from the knife and reading the note, the Superintendent put all of the pieces together from what the witnesses had said and from what was not said.

            After Jacob had left the building, he tried to find
Madison. Once he found her, they needed to talk. Once their long and romantic conversation was over, Jacob realized something that he should have noticed before, the note in his pocket had been missing. Both of them panicked and ran around searching for this note. It took them over three hours to re-trace their steps, but they had both forgotten about the Superintendent’s office. They both headed off to Jacob’s house only to find both of their parents and the Superintendent as he was about to open his mouth and speak.

            “So nice of you two to join us. I was just about to tell your parents about how you helped me with the incident in school today. I was also going to tell them what you did not say, which in this case, happened to be more important that what you had to say.” This seemed to come off a little harsh from the Superintendent and both of the adolescents knew why. “Well, your son and your daughter did great in telling me their perspective of the little brawl we had at school, but I cannot help thinking that this was cooked up by them. I had found this note  in my office and I think that it happens to belong to Jacob Owenn Davis and so does this knife. I did not catch it before, but the note cleared it up. I did not know that Jacob’s middle name was Owenn with two n’s. That is why I thought that it did not mean anything because the knife was on Owen, but had the name Owenn with two n’s in it. I think that you two started this brawl within the school because your daughter Mr. and Mrs. Williams and your son Mr. and Mrs. Davis, were planning to get together after Owen accidentally killed her boyfriend. Both of you planned this just so you guys could date! I do not understand your adolescent minds, but both of you will be heading to the station with me and the police officer will take you there. So what do you have to say for yourselves?” Jacob hesitated and then said, “I never thought that it would end like this.”

This is my free choice for my portfolio. It may seem a bit bland with the plot of the story, but I was aiming for a more symbolic representation. I’m hoping somebody else notices the symbols? This is only my second draft. It is very long, but any feedback would be appreciated.

“I swear to God. If she don’t shut up, I’ll kill her right here.”

“Save it, Johnny. I ain’t got insurance on this piece of crap. The last thing I need is some blood stain screwin’ up the carpet before I sent it back to the rental company.”

The white van, similar tot hat of a stereo-typical rapist’s van, led the way on a curvy back road barely visible enough for Johnny to distinguish the double yellow lines as he drove. The destination was undefined to one of the men, yet clear as day to the other. However, their goals were similar. By the end of the evening, the woman in the back would not be screaming from beneath her strip of tape any longer.

She sat in utter fear, in such a situation where words of all shapes and sizes could not compare to the feeling in her soul. The tape around her wrists and mouth led her to believe she was going to die. The tape dug into her wrists, playing with her veins as her arms tingled. Blood rushed viciously from the tips of her purple fingers to the center of her heart, pounding with every beat harder and harder than ever before. Her black mascara was smudged down her face, following the similar path of persistent tears. Only hours before in the early minutes of the morning, she had applied such make-up to cover up her flaws, to make her feel beautiful. At this moment in time, however, the very last thing she wished was to be beautiful. Maybe if she had not tried so utterly hard, she would not be in such a position, allowing her for the first time to look death directly between the eyes. A feeling she had never experienced before, this feeling was indeed the feeling of pure terror, fear, and panic.

In the midst of such devastating thoughts, she was interrupted with a sudden slam of screeching breaks.

“This is it. It’s time,” muttered Johnny slowly, grinning with a sense of pleasure through the wide gaps of his crooked teeth. He looked at his partner and admired his general sense of self. His partner stared forward with no form of expression, no form of emotion. Deep down, however, Johnny was sure he knew exactly what his partner was currently thinking.

The back door of the rusted van opened similar to the front entrance in her house. The two doors swung open in opposite directions with a screech, indicating the thirst for grease. Icy, bitter hands grabbed at her ankles with force, dragging her from the back of the van. She closed her eyes and prayed for survival. She prayed for anything but this.

Cries escaped from her throat, the whimpering indicating her fear. The men stared down at her as they leaned her up against the side of the van. Johnny, with dirty blonde hair and a scratchy moustache, leaned in closer. He whispered in her ear, sending chills up and down her spine. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her neck. She leaned away. He pushed closer.

“What’s the problem, beautiful? Don’t let those tears dirty your pretty little face.” He brushed his finger across her cheek, wiping away tears of desperation. She could smell the scent of sweat as he leaned closer and closer, touching her delicate face with his grease-stained hands.

“Work with me here, and you must just make it home tonight.”

She closed her eyes as he picked her up and began to walk. She wiggled, forcing against his muscle strength, but she was helpless. She did not dare to open her eyes in fear of what was soon to come.

She heard the other set of footsteps walking near her captor. Why was this other man standing innocently, watching her suffer in the arms of a criminal? She wished he would whisk her off her feet and carry her to survival. She wished to witness this mystery man in action, fighting her enemy until his mere death arrived. She wished he would set her free from danger forever.

The creaking of the wooden floorboards filled her ears. The body that dragged her like a doll stopped its movement, suddenly setting her to lay down on a soft surface. She still did not dare to open her eyes. Silence echoed off the walls of an unknown room.

She squirmed in pain, for the tape across her mouth was violent removed in one smooth but painful moment. Screams immediately and uncontrollably fell from her mouth as she opened her eyes. Her desperate cries of help flooded the room, but his filthy had touched her once again.

“Scream all you want. Nobody can hear you here.”

Over the shoulder of her enemy, she saw the mystery man again. He stood quiet, staring into her eyes. At this point, it was nearly impossible to decipher if this stare was a stare of lust, of what may come ahead, or if this stare was a stare of sorrow, of pain deep within his soul. She stared back momentarily before her attention was dragged away.

The bulky man with grimy hands turned around.

“Rich, do you wanna go first? Go ahead. I’ll wait over here.”

The man, wearing a beaten leather jacket and blue jeans stained at both knees, slowly inched forward to the mattress she sat on. He crawled to her as she backed away. Unfortunately, she had come to realize her one greatest fear.

“That’s right, Richy. Have fun, but hurry up.”

She screamed louder, unable to fight back against her oncoming enemy. She had realized her previously asked question. This man, Rich, in the leather jacket, was no different than his partner. They were after one thing and one thing only.

His body, built in size but not anywhere near overweight, crawled up her body with slow but sure motions and strong intentions. She screamed and pleaded to be let free, to be anywhere but there. The man advanced to her cheek with the sweet smell of aftershave overcoming her. His cheek brushed hers as he began to whisper the soft sounds of nothing in her ear.

“Listen to me. Scream like I’m hurting you, but listen to me. I’m Officer Richard Jackson. This man has a loaded gun and four counts of rape against him in the last six months. In a few minutes, I’m going to get up and walk over to him. I’m going to attempt to peacefully arrest him. We have back-up surrounding the building. Keep screaming,” and he gently shook her body for visible and fake reasons.

Rich looked up and grinned in Johnny’s direction, who was sitting across the room with a smile on his face.

“Hurry up. We ain’t got much time, and I want my share of that pretty little girl.”

He whispered again, nodding his head in Johnny’s direction.

“Listen to me. When I get up, lay here and do not move. If things go wrong, I am armed and wearing a wire. Stay here, and when I yell ‘run,’ head straight to that door,” as he pointed to a door nearly falling off its hinges on the opposite wall of the room.

“When I sit up, I’ll slice the duct tape from your ankles and leave the knife.”

He sat up and approached Johnny with a fake sense of satisfaction placed upon his face. He leaned in and calmly began whispering to Johnny. Soon enough, the promised reaction arrived. His smile turned into anger. The blue veins of his naked arms began to show as he pushed Rich away, heading straight for the innocent girl across the room. Fear attacked her entire body as she reached for the small pocket knife at the foot of the mattress. She noticed the swelling in her ankles, but that was the least of her worries at this moment. She reassured herself that today would be the day she died.

“Jonathan Patterson, place your gun on the ground and put your hands behind your head. You are under arrest for the rape of Kristen Jacobs, Jessica Morris,”

His speech was interrupted by Johnny’s attempt at grabbing his gun from his pants pocket, half hanging out from the second he entered the building.

With his police-issued gun pointed at the criminal, his voice echoed through the room once again.

“Jonathan, put down your gun.”

He spun around and made what may have been one of the biggest mistakes of his life. His gun became fully exposed with a mind of its own, pointing at the undercover officer in the tattered leather jacket.

With his finger on the trigger, he smiled and began to speak.

“I told the girl, and I’ll tell you. Nobody can hear you scream out here.”

The sound of the gunshot, of a bullet ripping through the air, was broken by the impact upon the enemy’s upper thigh. He screamed in agony, revealing the innocent voice spoken from the mouth of a guilty man. He surrendered his gun as he hit the floor in pain. In respond to the sound of the bullet, swarms of police officers knocked down doors at every entry, piling in with their bullet-proof vests and their guns drawn for protection.

Minutes later, the dirty and injured man was lifted into an ambulance, three officers at side. The doors of the ambulance opened, similar to the doors on the van, but details like this no longer seemed to matter. She closed her eyes, and in a moment, all her problems seemed to fade away.

The Americans never understood the change. It was impossibe for them to understand that a limit to their freedom was a benefit for all. They fought against the destruction of their empire. Though they were strong and fought with their best resources, time and fatigue prevailed. After years of struggle, the nation was forced to succumb. Perhaps they were right in their resistence. After all, as a nation with such technological advancements, whose to say that the Americans did not know that this would happen? Maybe they understood after all-that world wide utopia only brought the destruction of the world.

I read “A Million Little Pieces” by James Frey and I thought that it was an okay read. Then, i read the sequel called “My Friend Leonard,” and I loved it. When this book was published it created a great deal of controversy, because while “A Million Little Pieces” was an entirely true story, the sequel told both fact and fiction. Realizing this as I read only made the tale more intriguing. I would highly recommend this book to anyone-of all ages…etc.

I thought I might remind the bloggers out there that to post to the main page (instead of just commenting), you need to go to the “LOG IN” link listed on the right.

Mr. M.

Some of my friends recently introduced me to the book Eragon and its now one of my favorites. I personally am very into fantasy and dragons, which is probably why I’m such a big fan. It takes a whole new spin on dragons. Typically dragons are pictured as violent, wild beasts, but not in this book. They have personalities, are not always bad, and are able to communicate with the people. The writing isn’t the best, but considering the author, Christopher Paolini, was only 15 when he wrote it, I found it really impressive. I strongly encourage reading the book, whether or not you’ve seen the movie. They are very different, though both good. I also enjoyed the second book in what will be a four book series, Eldest. The third comesout on September 23(I think).

I was wondering if there was anyway that i could spice up this script for my literacy and media class. We are doing a video project and i need some feedback on how the movie is going so far. Thank you!!!

 OPENING WITH OPENING CREDITS

INT. EDITH’S HOUSE- TIME OF DAY: EVENING

EDITH and FRANK open up the film WATCHING television FLIPPING through the channels eventually stopping at a random channel.

EDITH and FRANK are SITTING on the couch trying to find something good to watch, but are not having any trouble. FRANK begins to TALK.

FRANK

(Annoyed)

Edith, pick a channel already!! My eyes are getting sore just looking at the T.V.

EDITH

I am trying to find the food channel, but I cannot remember what channel number it is.

FRANK

Then just find it already. Before tomorrow, I might add.

EDITH gets ANGRY and THROWS the remote. It hits the wall at a blazing speed and the remote breaks and is crushed on impact with the wall. After the remote breaks, the television changes to the RELIGIOUS channel and FRANK and EDITH do not seem to notice it.

FRANK and EDITH start FIGHTING because EDITH broke the remote, and the on television the religious person is talking about the answer, which he repeats several times. EDITH gets up due to anger and trips and unplugs the television on accident. FRANK gets even more upset for some reason now.

FRANK

Edith, look what you’ve done, don’t you know anything. You weren’t paying any attention. Now we do not know the answer.

EDITH

Wait!!! (Saying ecstatically)

Scene no moves to the kitchen as we follow EDITH. The audience then sees her pull out a box of cracker jacks from her pantry. She then runs back to the room where she resumes her conversation with FRANK.

EDITH

(Pondering)

Maybe the answer is at the bottom of these cracker jacks.

While this is happening we see NICKERS walk in the house (not his) and he goes to the fridge. He pulls out a carton of milk and takes a swig. He then puts it back and walks out the door as if he was not even there.

FRANK and EDITH stare blankly at the door as if they could not believe what they had just seen. They return to their conversation as if nothing had happened.

EDITH

I feel the answer coming. I got it!!! I got it!!!

FRANK

(Excited)

You’ve got the answer. What is it?

EDITH

No… Look a sticker.

FRANK runs outside after having his ego crushed not-by-not knowing the answer and having to ask EDITH about it.

FRANK

(As if looking up at God)

What is the answer?

A random person yells that it is dinner. EDITH darts to the house as quick as she can because food is all she ever thinks about.

NEXT SCENE 

To keep the audience involved throughout the whole film we developed this scene where NICKERS, goes to many houses and just peaks through the windows. This is supposed to cause some humor and laughter through the film. He is a little side plot to the story.

NEXT SCENE

INT. FRANK’S CAR: TIME OF DAY-ALMOST NOON

FRANK and EDITH are driving in FRANK’S car to go to
Food City Lisbon Falls, Maine. There is some dialogue between the two and the camera shifts back and forth from the front of the car to the backseat of the car. At one point, we see NICKERS in the back seat and as the camera moves back and we do not see NICKERS anymore as if he was not there at all.

NEXT SCENE 

INT
FOOD
CITY: TIME OF DAY-NOON

FRANK and EDITH are inFood
City buying food and realize that they can figure out the answer from last night. They were walking around trying to find the ice cream isle because EDITH was hungry. While searching, FRANK comes to this realization that the answer could be anywhere so FRANK and EDITH go around asking people the question.

FRANK

Excuse me? Do you know the answer?

RANDOM PERSON INFOOD
CITY

Yup, I need to know the question first before I can give you the answer.

FRANK

But that is the question.

RANDOM PERSON INFOOD
CITY

What is the question?

FRANK

What is the answer?

RANDOM PERSON INFOOD
CITY

Well, I am sorry, but I cannot help someone like you, bye bye now.

EDITH

It is alright Frank, not everyone is nice like… well… umm… me.

EDITH and FRANK go on asking other people if they know the answer, but have no luck throughout searching inFood
City.

NEXT SCENE 

EXT. OUTSIDE OFFOOD
CITY: TIME OF DAY- A LITTLE AFTER NOON

Walking outside of the store EDITH looks at the big SAMS sign has she has a great thought.

EDITH

Frank! I have a great idea. Why don’t we go to SAMS! I’m so hungry. We can make a date out of it.

FRANK

Let’s mot call it a date though. That would kill my reputation.

EDITH

Alright, but let’s hurry because I am getting cranky.

They walk in and see people taking orders and people giving orders. They walk up to the counter and order what they desire. The camera shifts from them to a weird looking character, later known as KAHUM, and he seems to be having trouble eating his pizza. He goes unnoticed by FRANK and EDITH and leaves before they find out whom he really is.

NEXT SCENE 

EXT. WALKING IN TOWN: TIME OF DAY-MORNING

FRANK and EDITH leave EDITH’S house and start walking around town asking people they know if they know the answer. After a long time of doing absolutely nothing they start to debate what they should do next or whom to turn to for the answer.

As they are walking down the street they see NICKERS wearing a ridiculous running outfit and listening to his hip-hop music.

FRANK

Edith I’m getting so frustrated. How are we supposed to find the answer?

EDITH

Ooooh look. Ask this fine guy. He is so cute. I could see us together.

FRANK

(Looks at EDITH with the most disgusted look in the world)

Alright I will ask him for you okay.

EDITH is looking very fondly at NICKERS as he approaches and wants to say something that will make him notice her, but cannot find the words because she has a burrito stuffed halfway down her mouth.

FRANK

Excuse me sir?

(NICKERS is still listening to his music)

I said excuse me!

(Getting irritated he raises his voice)

EXCUSE ME!

NICKERS finally stops and removes his headphones from his ears.

FRANK

Do you know where we can find the answer?

NICKERS shakes his head in approval.

EDITH

Can you tell us?

NICKERS grabs a conveniently placed piece of paper and pen out of his front pocket as if he was waiting for this moment. He then writes something down.

He starts to hand it to EDITH and she is so excited because she has developed a crush on him and he was giving the paper to her. She gets all smiley and starts to giggle, then the music that was playing during the scene cuts off and NICKERS hands the paper to FRANK. EDITH shakes her head in disapproval and knowing that she is going to start a grudge against this hot guy.

FRANK

(Looks at EDITH in confusion and takes the paper)

Thanks!

NICKERS puts back on his headphones and turns on his music and begins running where he had left off.

Camera moves in to focus on the paper.

FRANK

This is where we need to go.

NEXT SCENE 

INT. EDITH’S HOUSE: TIME OF DAY-4 O’CLOCK

A big dramatic scene starts to happen with EDITH and FRANK devising a plan to find KAHUM who NICKERS had indirectly told FRANK to find. They try to make a plan with intense music playing to show the dramatic effect of the scene. They end up making a very detailed map of where they need to go to find KAHUM. During this scene there are many close-up shots and intense emotional expression because there is no dialogue during this scene.

 NEXT SCENE 

FRANK and EDITH move outside where they put their plan into motion. They stop at various places where they have marked on their map to check. They get what they need and keep going on their trek to find KAHUM. They eventually arrive at where there map has brought them and realize that the finish was right where they started or somewhere close. They spot KAHUM and courageously walk up to him. They start to bombard KAHUM with questions, well really only one question.

EDITH and FRANK look at KAHUM who has a big sign around his neck that says KAHUM.

EDITH

Are you KAHUM?

KAHUM

(Sarcastically says)

NO!

EDITH

Oh, well thank you for your very valuable time.

FRANK

(Cutting off EDITH)

Edith! That is Kahum

EDITH

He is? Oh, I see the sign now.

FRANK

(Happily pleading)

Excuse me sir? Do you think that you can tell us the answer?

KAHUM

Ah… It is the Answer that you have come for.

FRANK

Yes… we have been told to come and see you.

KAHUM

(Cutting off FRANK)

To see the great Kahum, who is currently living on the street due to his wife. But on to why you have come. I thought that you would come eventually. I will tell you the answer. But only on one condition.

FRANK

What ever you want… she will do it!

EDITH

Of course… wait.

KAHUM

Well, I know one thing… you need to be very open minded… I have not had it in a while… I feel as if this is the only time to get it… I want… a… MIGHTY KIDS MEAL!

FRANK

(Looking at KAHUM with complete blankness)

…Okay? If that is what you want I will get it. But first the answer.

KAHUM

Alright, alright. The answer is… (Coughing) it is… (Now choking) it is (he now pukes and begins to die, but EDITH and FRANK do not know what to do. They decide to watch rather than doing anything, but then realize that they will not get the answer they were so hoping for.)

EDITH and FRANK look at the dead person in front of them. Without even mourning over the dead person in front of them, they find that KAHUM had puked out a piece of paper. FRANK picks it up and sees what he has longly desired. THE ANSWER was written on the paper. In complete amazement FRANK is speechless after his find.

FRANK

(Looking at EDITH in Relief)

The answer is… YES.

EDITH

(Looking very puzzled)

What answer?

FRANK gives up on EDITH and runs away knowing the answer that has haunted him for the past few days.

NEXT SCENE 

We close up the film with the closing credits and with NICKERS swinging on a swingset.

This is actually my free-choice piece for 1st quarter. I decided that I’d like to develop and continue with it because I was having a blast writing it, and I actually want to know what happens in the end. I know this is long, so I’m just asking for input for as far as you get in reading it. Hope you like it!

A Young Knight’s Tale

Sarah wheeled around the turn and back up onto the sidewalk. She took a deep breath and let the crisp fall air fill her lungs as she rolled to a stop. She looked around at the small shops with the ancient oak trees on the sidewalks. She could see Mt. Durand towering above the shop roofs. The leaves were beginning to change color, from a deep green to fiery oranges and reds and golden yellows, and it made the mountain look as though it was on fire. Two girls whizzed by on bicycles. The young high school student was envious. When Sarah was about 12 years old her horse bucked her off and the impact damaged her spinal cord, causing her to be paralyzed from the waist down. She couldn’t ride anymore, couldn’t do most of the things that she loved, but Sarah did find consolation in books. Before her injury, reading was not one of Sarah’s favorite pastimes. She would much rather be out on a soccer field, or cantering down a trail on her horse. During her recovery, all that changed. With so little to do and so much time, books became much more appealing. At first she saw books as a way to make the hours pass more quickly. Over time she found that they were becoming more like companions. When Sarah read a book, she found she could picture herself as a character in the story, and it freed her from the confines of her hospital room. Now, several years after her recovery, her love of books had only grown stronger. That’s why she loved going to the library—it was freedom.

The library was a huge building, made of ancient red bricks that were set in many different designs. Three years ago, Sarah would have described it simply as a large brick building. It was a place she went when she had an assignment to do, or needed a book for school. Occasionally she would meet friends to study with. But that was work. As her love for books grew, so did her appreciation of the library and everything about it. Slowly she realized that those dull red bricks had been set intricately and carefully; perhaps even lovingly. Now she couldn’t enter the library without noticing again, and marveling at all that she had missed before. The bricks were laid out in many Celtic knot designs, crisscrossing over and over again. At the corners and the entrance, there were tall brick Corinthian columns with grape vines and ivy carved into them. Distanced at about 20 feet from each other stood tall arched windows. Every window was stained glass. The beautiful, deep, shades of blues, reds, greens, browns…illuminated and reveled scenes from different kinds of stories. One set of windows portrayed knights in shining silver armor mounted on white steeds, fighting poison green dragons with fiery breath. Others showed blue and gray soldiers from the Civil War charging toward each other in different battles. Still others were of mermaids and mermen swimming just above the ocean floor at a great feast. She could almost hear them singing and see them dancing, twirling about in the crystal blue water. In the middle of the building, right above the doors, was a sign that read, “Grimstrom Library, Where imagination comes to life” The library was a place of wonder and adventure, a place to get away and escape.

She rolled up the ramp to the great oaken doors and pulled on the brass handle. The huge door opened with a loud creak and she rolled in. A petite, white-haired, blue-eyed woman was standing behind the long mahogany desk. When Sarah entered the lady looked up and smiled.

“Why good afternoon Sarah! How was school today?”

“It was okay. I’m happy it’s Friday though. My teachers all assigned me a lot of homework at the same time. It was pretty bad.”

“Oh, I hated it when they used to do that. It drove me bonkers.”

“Say, Mrs. Peters, have you gotten the book yet?”

“As a matter of fact, dear, it came in just yesterday. It looks like a great adventure.” Mrs. Peters opened up a drawer pulled out a book. The old woman had a mysterious look on her face as she handed it to the young girl, as if she was holding something back.

“Thank you Mrs. Peters. I’ll take good care of it.”

“I know you will, dear.” The old woman replied with a smile.

Sarah set the book in her lap and wheeled down one of the massive, dimly lit hallways. The ceilings were high and the great stone arches were beautifully carved, with flowers, ivy, and mystical creatures that twisted and turned their way down the pillars. She tuned right down a smaller passage way and entered the lounge area. Sarah wheeled into the corner where “her couch” sat. She pulled herself out of her chair and onto the maroon velvet couch, then pulled down the navy blue blanket, curled up and studied the cover before opening the book. It was midnight blue with metallic designs imprinted into it. The middle of the cover was an imprint of a knight. The title read, “A Young Knights Tale”. Sarah opened the cover to see an introductory page. She almost skipped over it, knowing introductions to be quite boring, but a grand picture on the bottom the page caught her attention. “How unusual,” thought Sarah, “for an illustration inside a book to have such vivid colors.” There was a small printing of a knight wearing a blue and red cape, standing over a terrible giant with his majestic black horse standing nearby. It seemed very lifelike and her fingers began to tingle. She began to read it.

The introduction began, “Allow me to introduce myself as Old Sir Martin. I have indeed lived through the tale I am about to tell, although at the time I was quite young. I rode atop a fine black Friesian worthy of a king. He bore the name of Quintrell, meaning ‘dashing’. The cape I wore was a deep blue and ruby made of the finest silk. I proudly fought through many a battle bearing these colors. Eventually I was nearly killed in a duel with an enemy. After a long and painful recovery I retired to live in a small plain cottage with my horse. I hope that you find my story as fascinating as I do. Have a wonderful adventure.”

Sarah couldn’t believe it, a real knight! And he had a Friesian (her favorite breed)! She was already hooked as she read on.

~Chapter I~

“This is the age of lords and paupers. This is the era of kings and servants. But most of all this is the time, the beginning, of the great Knights in the magnificent armor that defined us. We knights rode atop grand horses dressed in our king’s colors. There are often knights riding by my small home and I watch in awe and a small bit of envy. I recall my adventure of the Great War between the first brave knights and the terrible raiding giants of the east. I don’t suppose my reader would know the story of that battle, so I have found it convenient to explain it through a small bit of poetry.”

The young girl read the poem out loud:

A young knight’s tale is told from days of old,

When Giants raided the land searching for gold.

Many brave men stood up to fight,

But all died defending what was right.

King Arthur sent out an urgent call,

To the greatest warriors one and all,

He wanted to fight for the people’s rights,

So he went with his warriors whom he named knights.

And Oh, what a sight!

To see those brave knights atop their valiant steeds,

Their armor gleaming, their swords well polished,

They marched off to battle, their foes to demolish,

Each night swore to fight and to never concede.

Sarah noticed something gleaming as she read this and looked up. She cried out in fear, for Standing before her was a real knight in beautiful silver armor! A great lion was engraved on the breastplate. She could only stare, and just as she started to regain her sense he raised his sword, then started to slowly disappear, and was gone. The young girl was stunned. She debated with herself about whether to read on, or to close the book and quit. The longer she debated, the more the book beckoned. Sarah decided to read on:

The king gathered many soldiers to join the war,

The men lined up by thousands knowing combat was nigh,

Each man was afraid knowing that he may die.

But when the Giants arrived, they raised a terrible roar.

Suddenly, Sarah jumped as a deafening roar, like that of a great throng of men, reached her ears. She looked up and nothing was there, but the noise didn’t go away! She could still hear it very clearly and was very confused and afraid, but she was not one easily torn from a book so she continued on:

The king yelled, “CHARGE!” and oh what a wonder

To hear all the hoof beats resounding like thunder,

Each knight galloped forth, his armor flashing,

And as the enemies met, the air was filled with violent clashing…

Without warning, the couch tipped abruptly, and Sarah fell. She screamed as she continued falling, and instead of landing on the hard stone floor of the library, she landed on rough green grass! She was not inside her library and she didn’t know how to get outside this nightmare! She looked up and realized that she was inside the story! Furthermore, she had landed right on the edge of the field of battle! She wanted to find a way out, but how could she with no wheelchair and no instruction? Sarah needed a moment to take this all in and calm down. She watched what was happening around her.

The knights were lined up by the thousands, with thousands more foot soldiers following from behind. The horses were tossing their heads and some were rearing as they anticipated the battle ahead of them. There was a warm breeze rustling the leaves and making the horses’ manes and tails flutter as they marched. The sun reflected on the armor creating a great radiance of light all around the army. Behind them was a mountain, and Sarah felt like she was familiar with it.

Advancing from her right she noticed the giants. They were about the size of five tall men standing on each other’s shoulders. They were dressed in layers of leather and held huge, dull looking swords. Their faces were revolting as they were the texture of a rhinoceros’s skin, but with great brown lips and terrible, empty black eyes. Their hair resembled pigs’ bristles and their skin color was dirt brown. They were the most fearsome things that she could imagine.

Sarah watched as the horses galloped faster and faster, the ground shook with their power and might. The knights and foot soldiers continued their battle roar as they neared the giants. The two groups met and the clanging of sword against sword echoed all around her. Several knights and giants instantly went down. She watched as the knights slowly carved their way through the lines of giants, and it was painful for her to watch each time one of the glorious knights fell into the arms of death. She rejoiced each time one of the dirty, malicious monsters fell to the ground. Sarah watched the battle for several riveting hours. She found herself rejoicing with the knights when they almost had a giant down. At first the giants had the upper hand, but as time edged on she could see that slowly, almost imperceptibly, they giants were being driven farther and farther back. More giants than men were going down now. She could see that a great fear of the knights was beginning to clutch the giants’ hearts and minds because they were beginning to yell and back away. The giants began to look around questioningly, as if aware that something was changing, a few at a time would run away into the forest behind them.

Just as the sun was setting the last few giants lumbered off through the woods in retreat. The knights suddenly burst out in a triumphant yell and she could see all the swords red from the blood. At the same time the sunset tinted the showing metal a beautiful orange and purple. Sarah was struck by the contrast. Almost in unison the knights bent down and wiped off their swords on the grass and then slid them into their sheaths. Sarah did not know what to do.

Gradually a young knight only a few years older than Sarah looked over at her and strode proudly to where she was sitting. He looked about six feet tall and his armor gleamed in the light of the setting sun. He was wearing a deep blue and ruby cape.

“Lady Sarah! I wondered when you would arrive!”

“H-how did you know my name?” the young girl stammered.

“You are reading my book, are you not?”

“I’m not sure! I don’t know what I’m doing!” She was quite flustered and didn’t have the slightest idea what to say. Who was this knight?

“Do you not recognize the colors that I wear?” The girl hesitated so he continued, “I am aware that they caught your attention once before…”

Sarah gasped. “The picture! The book! That was you? But I don’t understand!”

The armor clinked as the knight knelt down in front of her. She stared into his knowing brown eyes as he spoke. “Let me explain. You started to read my book. When you were reading the poem you believed. That is how you were transferred to the battle! You have actually entered your world at a different time! There is nothing confusing about that, my young mistress!”

Sarah was dazed and stared past the knight. There was the tall mountain in the background, and she realized in amazement that it was true! The mountain was familiar, and in fact she had been living right at the bottom of it her whole life! The familiar mountain a little ways off was Mt. Durand! Sarah gasped as she took in this new bit of information. It still didn’t make sense to her.

“But why am I here? And how do I get out of this story?”

“You must live the story until the end of the book. We both need help from each other if the story is to have a happy ending. Now please get up and come with me. You will come to King Arthur’s hall to dine.”

“I-I can’t stand. I have no movement from my waist down.” She looked at the ground in anger as she spoke.

The young knight smiled, and offered her his hand. “Try.”

Sarah grasped his hand and hoisted herself up. He let go of her hand and offered his arm as any gentleman would. Sarah could not believe it! She was standing! She had feeling! No wheelchair! She began to laugh in pure amazement and satisfaction. Although she felt rather odd linking arms with a stranger, she accepted the support as the knight brought her over to his large black Friesian.

“Coney!” he called and a small fat man with a brown hood walked over with a large gray horse

“Here you are my lady.” He handed her the reins, bowed and walked away.

“Now that there is Quintrell’s partner. Her name is Guinevere, for she is as fair and polite as they come. You shall have no problems with her.”

Sarah mounted and as soon as she hit the saddle she felt at home. This is where she belonged. They joined the crowd and everyone followed a great road to King Arthur’s castle where they would have an enormous feast and a good night’s rest.

To be continued…

I’d appreciate any input on how to make this easier to imagine, more vivid, or pretty much anything that you notice and think I should add or change.

I am lazily, happily eating my evening hay when my master suddenly enters my room. He grabs my black English saddle and hastily straps it on my back. He seizes my bridle and quickly puts it on my head. I can sense excitement, worry, and fear. It makes me nervous. He is normally calm and cheerful, so I do not understand this feeling. Should I be afraid? My master, Paul, leaps and I flinch as he lands hard on my back. Now that he is on me, I can feel fear and urgency racing through his whole body. I am afraid and my instincts tell me to bolt, but I need to keep him safe. My master squeezes my sides and urges me with a “Hya!” I take off at a medium gallop but he pushes me faster. I can feel my hooves pounding at the same pace as my heart. The trees are whizzing by, yet he urges me faster, ever faster. We reach a road and I can see dust flying out from our sides. My master begins yelling, “THE BRITISH ARE COMING! THE BRITISH ARE COMING!” I don’t understand, but windows suddenly light up, and doors fly open. Then the humans start to run and bang things together, making noise. The noise pushes me faster, ever faster until we are out of control. Humans begin to form in herds as we race by. He guides me past them and back to the open meadows where he lets me slow down a little bit. My master reaches down and pats my neck, then calmly starts talking, “That a girl. One more town and then we’re on the final stretch.” I don’t understand, but I feel him begin to calm a bit. I tilt my head and see a light far ahead. He urges me faster once again. His urgency and excitement pushes me, so I give it my all. I can go no faster, breathe no harder, and feel no more desperate. My hoof-beats are faster than my heartbeats now, and my lungs feel as if they will burst. He starts to yell again, “THE BRITISH ARE COMING! THE BRITISH ARE COMING!” Men run around with long sticks and lights flicker on all over the place. We continue on, bolting by all of the people’s homes. Finally, Master pulls up asks me to stop. He leaps off of me, leads me to a room, and takes my bridle off. He then disappears into a human home. I am weak with exhaustion, but stand proudly waiting for his return. My eyes begin to close just as I see a single light flicker atop a tall thing far away.

Today is the end of tolerance! Today is the end of forgiveness! Today is the end of injustice! Today is the end of it all! Yes, I suffocate. It is true that I suffocate. I suffocate in my self righteousness. I swear that no one will be spared when the sulphur rains again. Our cities reduced to ash in the wake of oblivion. The skies will then open above and, wipe this race away. I will say it sense no one else will! The human race wiped away! While sinners repent, I waste away so joyously. May the blood of the wicked wash away the ruins of our frozen metropolis. Their perversions are to blame for this. Their rapping of the planet. Their rapping of natures creatures. Their rapping of each other in the fight for power. Today is Their end. Today is our end. Oh yes, today is -the end.

I’m going to call this a short story, because it is around the same length or shorter than the typical short story you read in English class, but you might not consider it short. (Just a heads up, it’s around 7 pages double spaced in Word.) I wrote it for creative writing class, but am thinking of taking it even further and entering it in a competition, so any tips would be appreciated. I especially am looking on tips for how I could the flashback stick out more and how to lessen the word count while still keeping the flow and impact of the piece. The competition has a word limit of 1500 I think and my piece is 2200 or so words. I realize the names are crazy and very hard to pronounce, but they are mostly Latin and were chosen for their meaning. Thanks for any tips and feedback. If you don’t have any, that’s alright too. I hope you enjoy the story.

One day Misericordia, Mercy for short, a beautiful 14 year-old girl, besides the dirt she is covered in, the knots in her hair, and the animal skins she wears as clothing, was eating the remnants of a deer she had found, when a young girl, who appeared to be about the age of seven, walked into the clearing. Mercy silently stood up, stepped away from the deer, her only food all day, and it was dusk, and walked out of the clearing in the opposite direction as the girl, who stood there with a shocked expression on her face. She was very grateful to have the deer, but was scared that by some fortuitous oversight Mercy had not seen her and if she made contact with her, even to say thank you, Mercy would hurt or even kill her. The girl finally worked up the courage to say something and as Mercy was stepping onto the path leading out of the clearing, she whispered, “Thank you.” Sadly, Mercy could not hear the young girl’s kind words, or she might have turned around and have finally found a friend again, something she had not had since Faveo, who died when she was five.
She and Faveo, another child she had been traveling with, were picking and eating some berries from a bush they had found, when a group of four men walked into the clearing. Upon seeing the berries the kids were eating, they felt a pang in their stomachs and began to crave the delicious looking red berries. They told the children to leave and let them have the berries in a very calm but firm voice, knowing that in Nemorosus the smaller submit to the larger, and if this isn’t done willingly, it is forced. The children did not yet know this would happen. They knew they found the berries first and were hungry, so they refused to leave. This defiance angered the men, so they decided to kill the children, a typical decision in Nemorosus. They went after Faveo first. Three of the men attacked and beat him to death, while the forth held onto Mercy to keep her from escaping. She observed how the men stopped hitting Faveo when he stopped moving. Then, thanks to her cleverness, when they attacked her, she made the men think she was dead by not moving soon into the attack, though she didn’t understand why this made the men stop. They dropped her body on the ground and began to eat the berries. She lay there as still as she could, barely breathing waiting for the men to leave.
As she lay there, she heard them talk about Je Suis. One of the men said, “Have you ever heard the myth that Je Suis is really a prince from a far off and noble land coming to help the people of Nemorosus? It says that he knew of the struggles facing the people and, having a heart for people, desired to bring them out of their desperate state. When he first came, he walked through Nemorosus among the people, urging them to trust him and let him help them. As people began to join him, they needed a place to escape to and rest, so he built his castle. He made it strong so that any who did not believe him and thought he was causing trouble could not break it down. The castle also provided a place for the people to gather together and encourage one another as they saw how the people of Nemorosus were becoming worse and worse. It is also says that those who joined him became what we call the fairies. They come out into Nemorosus to try to bring other people out of the violence and misery of their current situation.”
“Are you serious? People actually believe those lies?” said another of the men.
“I find it hard to imagine anyone can believe them too, but some people do,” replied the first man.
“So, what’s the true story? I’ve never actually heard it,” said the third man.
Without any warning the fourth man, who had been silent the whole time so far, said, “Je Suis came to conquer the people of Nemorosus. He was a peasant from a distant and terrible land, far worse than Nemorosus, who wanted to make a name for himself. He used manipulation to make people his slaves, which we call the fairies and forced them to try to bring others to him. Over time people began to recognize him and the fairies and run from them, so a new method had to be used to convert people. He began to make the fairies put letters covered with a magic powder that turns the people who touch them into fairies in the trees. To prevent people from being able to reach and attack him, Je Suis built his castle, which he never leaves.”
By the time the stories were over, the men had finished eating all the berries they wanted, so they left. When they were a good distance away, Mercy slowly dragged herself over to the boy to tell him it was safe to get up, but he was dead. He wouldn’t move or respond. After a while she figured that he wasn’t going to respond again and she would have to get along on her own. She hid under the bushes and ate berries until she healed. From that point on, whenever she saw anyone, no matter how small or young, she got as far away as she could. She wasn’t going to let that happen to her again.
Mercy walked down the path paying no attention to where she was going. She was lost in thought, or anger one might almost say, though not at the girl. She was upset at Nemorosus, the forest she lived in, and its ways. She hates the violence and murder she encounters on a daily basis. She can’t go a week without seeing at least one puddle of human blood. If it’s a good month, she only sees one dead body. She realizes the people don’t know any other way, but she is too afraid to try to teach them one, though she has thought it through and determined that if people worked together, there would easily be enough food to go around, which makes her angry with herself. People look out only for themselves, fight over food and land all the time, and have been known to kill over a single berry. Mothers often abandon their children before they are ready for solid food because finding enough nourishment for both of them is extremely difficult. Mercy hates her lifestyle. She has to spend all her time searching for food and still barely finds enough to get by. What makes her furious though, is that Nemorosus rewards the cruel. The most vicious people have the most food, because they physically force people to give it to them. Mercy refuses to force her way in any situation, making life rough, discouraging, and miserable for her.
After walking aimlessly for about 20 minutes, she looked around to see where she was and saw a something unidentifiable inside a hole in a nearby tree. Logic said not to go anywhere near an unknown object. It was most likely dangerous, but something inexplicable made her want to investigate and find out more about it. She had to consider carefully what to do, but her thoughts always returned to how terrible her life was and how it couldn’t get worse. In the end she determined she had nothing to lose and something inside her was pushing her forward.
She cautiously made her way toward the tree. She stood on her tiptoes and peered into the hole, being very careful not to touch it or its contents. All that was inside was a sheet of paper, but Mercy knew it was potentially dangerous. At first, she could see no markings on it, but as she continued to look for some way to identify what the paper was or where it came from, though still avoiding making any contact with it, she saw the words From the Castle of Je Suis printed on it. She knew exactly what it was now.
Everything she had ever been taught told her to run away as fast as she could, but for some reason, she stood frozen in thought about what would happen if she reached out and took the letter. As she pondered these things she realized, she had never seen a fairy be violent or cruel, while people murdered others all the time, fairies always seemed happy when she saw them, though it was from a distance, and people were always angry at each other or upset about the lack of food, and fairies, every time she had seen them, were in groups, while people could not get along together much of the time. It seemed as though being a fairy might be an improvement over her current state. Of course, she would be a servant, but that didn’t sound like a terrible price to pay for a decent life. Je Suis would make sure she had food and a place to stay. She would have friends. She really couldn’t see anything bad about being a fairy, so she slowly reached into the hole in the tree and grabbed the letter.
To her surprise, nothing happened. She didn’t understand, but figured that reading the letter might help. It said:
Dear person of Nemorosus,
I, Je Suis, would like to help you escape the terrible violent, hateful society you live in. Though many
say otherwise, that is why I came here. Here is a map telling you how to get to my castle. I do not
promise an easy life, but I can promise that your needs will be provided for. I hope you come.
Sincerely,
Je Suis
Unless the letter was lying, she had finally found the way to a good life. She could find no reason not to believe the letter. She had not been transformed into a fairy, and if that were Je Suis’s goal, he would have done it as soon as possible.
Mercy couldn’t wait to start her new life. She followed the map walking as quick as she could, even running at times. She had never experienced such joy as when she first saw Je Suis’s welcoming face and heard him call her by name. If he did no more for her, she would have still idolized him, but this was not the case.
Mercy found the castle to be better than she could have ever imagined. She never had to worry about whether or not she would get enough food, even though Mercy discovered during her trips on hunting duty, the hunters were not always as successful as hoped for. There always seemed to be enough to go around. Everyone shared the food and other resources. Mercy made friends. She finally learned to open up again.
Of course, Mercy was expected to work. She had to help find and prepare the food, clean, and the hardest task of all, try to bring others to the castle, but not the way the people of Nemorosus portrayed it. This was to be done in kindness, out of love and concern for the people, to give them a better life and prevent them from facing the coming judgment.
One day while Mercy was out trying to tell people of the better life she had discovered, Mercy saw one of the men who had killed Faveo and tried to kill her. She decided it was best to avoid contact with him and hide in the bushes. As the man got closer she could see that he was injured and barely able to walk. When he was only about 10 feet away, she could hear him talking to himself.
“I can’t believe the cruelty of those men. How could I have been one of them for so long? All I did was say there was enough food, why not share with the kid, and they attack me. I have no chance in this state. Couldn’t they have just killed me?”
Mercy knew that the man was right. In his state he was doomed to death, and most likely a very slow one. No matter what the man had done to her in the past, he didn’t seem to be that same cruel man anymore and she couldn’t sit by and let him pass by to his death, when there was hope with Je Suis. She emerged from the bush and walked over to the man. He didn’t recognize her, but she was surer than ever who he was. She told him that she wanted to help him and that if he would come with her, she would take him to the castle, where he could heal in safety. All that would be expected of him was to help out once he was well and to help others come there to this better life.
He wasn’t sure whether something so wonderful could be true, but he had nothing to lose, so he went. As time went on, Mercy and Concipio, as she learned was the man’s name, became good friends. She never did tell him what he had done to her. She figured he had changed. There was no reason to ruin his or their friendship because of the past. After all talking about it wasn’t going to change it.

Here are a couple ideas I’ve had in the past for my journals. One: describe something in full detail an object normally looked over. For example Describe all the qualities of a napkin or bottle. Two: use lyrics from a collection of songs or maybe even one song and create a story from them.

I recently finished reading “Sugar Cookie Murder,” written by Joanne Fluke, which I learned was from a series of “cooking/murder mysteries.” Interesting combination, but Fluke really did make it work. I enjoyed the book because it was an in-depth story of a murder at a Christmas party. However, I didn’t like how everybody was extremely calm about the situation. A murder at a Christmas party in a small town? I would react somewhat…shocked…if that were to happen around here. However, the characters each had a meaningful part to the story, and each person was added only if needed. Sometimes, I get lost in books with too many pointless characters. “Sugar Cookie Murder” was not one of these books. The ending…I won’t give away, but I can promise you that if you read this book, it will shock you like no other book has! (Well, at least that was how I felt about it.)

This is a poem I wrote in creative writing class. I know, it’s very long, but I am considering entering it in a writing contest. If you have any constructive criticism, I would appreciate it!

Drips of water filled the air like bullets in a war
Landing where they pleased, beginning the downpour.
Joey baked his mudcakes, almost good enough to eat.
Covered with dirt from his head down to his feet.
Katie headed in, motioning Joey to the door.
“Take your shoes off. Don’t get mud on the floor!
You know Mom would yell if you got the carpet wet.
Leave your wet clothes on the porch, Joey. Don’t forget.”
They sat on the couch, staring out at the black sky.
How they wished the big cloud would just pass them by.
“Why does it have to rain today?” Joey asked with gloom.
Of course, there was no answer, but a loud and echoing boom.
Little Katie sat in anger, wishing they could play.
“Hey, Joey. What makes it rain, anyway?”
Sarcastically, he said, “I don’t know. You tell me.”
Suddenly, her small imagination began to go crazy.
“I bet it’s those birds that chirp all morning long.
I bet one’s in our birdbath and he’s singing a little song.
He’s probably not paying attention, just splashing around.
He’s making all these stupid raindrops splash on the ground.
“No, no no. That’s not it,” said Joey with a grin.
The power of imagination took over from within.
“I bet it’s Mr. Brown’s dog, from across the street.
He slobbers everywhere when Mr. Brown gives him a treat.
Or maybe he’s out drinking, splashing everywhere.
That’s probably why it’s raining. Now, I guess I don’t care.
I guess the rain’s okay. I guess I don’t really mind.
But I still do miss those days when the sun always shined.”
They laughed and they giggled, enjoyed their afternoon.
The rain no longer bothered them, nor did the alarming boom.
Their mother came slowly, staggering down the stairs
Hoping the loud thunder hadn’t given her children scares.
She expected to see them shuttering with fear.
But, to her surprise, they laughed as if they hadn’t in a year.
“Hey, kids. I didn’t know you liked the rain?”
They smiled and replied, “Oh, it’s fun just the same.”
Their mother took a seat next to her children on the couch.
“So, tell me, Joey. What’s this fun all about?”
Joey grabbed her hand. “Now we know why it rains.
Katie says it’s the bird in the bath. That’s who she blames.
She says they splash all around while they sing their tune.
I guess it could be true. They’re out there every afternoon.
Maybe they’re so clumsy that they make a great big mess.
They could be making all this rain, but that’s not my guess.
I think it’s Mr. Brown’s big dog, laying on the lawn
Drinking from his water dish ‘til his water isa ll gone.”
Katie smiled and looked up, shook her little head.
“Mom, we don’t mind staying inside instead.
If it wasn’t for the rain, everything would be wrong.
The birds would be dirty and they wouldn’t sing their song.
That big dog would be thirsty. He’d never get to drink.
Mom, we can take turns with the weather, don’t you think?”
She looked down at her children, smiling with bliss.
“You guys sure have imaginations,” and she gave them each a kiss.
“Well kids, I hate to rain on your parade, but look outside.”
As the sun shown through the clouds, their eyes opened wide.
They screeched with excitement as they tied their muddy shoes.
Now they knew they would never again have the rainy day blues.

One of the “cool” links on this blog is NoodleTools. For those of you who don’t know, NoodleTools is an online source citation composer. It allows you to use either MLA or APA citation format. NoodleTools will make your life so much easier when it comes to correctly citing sources because it “knows” the proper formatting and punctuation. To make use of the subscription we have at LHS stop in to the library for login information and tutorials.

At the urging of my students, I have posted a piece of my own writing as an example. Feel free to comment.

Good luck,

Mr. M.

Confessions of an Email Addict:

It started so innocently.

A so-called friend,
secret pusher,
peddled my first high,

“I know a lot of people use Hotmail. It’s free and pretty user friendly.”

Nothing has matched the
Hi!
of the first message in my inbox.

The rush of affirmation.
The speed and ease of communication.
The recklessness and danger of rough-draft publication.

At first, it was a casual, social habit.

Email removed the edge of
awkward social interaction
and tedious, genuine conversation.

A new persona emerged
(hendrixfan79)
and sealed my pathetic fate.

A regular user, I checked it
once a day,
twice a day,
three times a loser.

The Hotmail gateway
gave way
to Yahoo!,
AOL,
gmail.

The server served me
the junk of addiction,
left me staring, eyes straining,
trembling fingers finding their way
to the keyboard stash.

I needed the love and assurance cyberspace offered.

Yes, hendrixfan79, we do luv u.

I was transformed,
committing unspeakable acts:
misspelling words,
abbreviating unnecessarily,
clicking “Send” without proofreading.

And now I sit here,
trying not to think about Outlook,
which waits on my laptop in the next room,
minimized,
lurking on the task bar,
and gazing at me with those come-hither eyes,
luring me to snack in the lotus fields,
to click “Send/Receive All,”
to lose myself in an email haze.

The siren’s song halts productivity.
I feel the creeping, tingling need
churn in my guts.

It’ll only take a minute. Then you can get back to work. Randy has probably responded to your response to his response to your forward. Wouldn’t you like to know what he has to say? What if he is waiting for you to reply? Click the button. Check your inbox. Click the button. Click thebutton. Clickthebutton. clickthebutton.clickthebuttonclickthebuttonclickthebuttonclicktheb—

Feverishly, I reach out
my traitorous hand
and grab the mouse,
which feels so good,
so right,
cupped in my palm.

The rush of relief washes over me—
my inbox processes an incoming message.

An advertisement:
“Click here for natural male enhancement!”

The peak is over.

I must face the morning-after bath of
guilt and shame,
the introspective recognition
that I am sick.

As I come down,
I tell myself that my behavior is ridiculous.

I’ll wait a while
for my next fix.

Hey, gang –

I have a pathetic list of hyperlinks in the “blogroll” section.  If you think of one that others might find helpful or interesting, please let me know.

Thanks,

Mr. M.

Hi! I just finished reading The Hobbit by J.R.R Tolkien and strongly recommend it. It takes a little while to really get into it, but once the adventure gets going, I find it hard to put it down. I really enjoy fantasy and Tolkien uses very clear descriptions so it is easy to visualize the places and things that he is talking about. He also has some really great poetry throughout  the book. Although it is not an easy read, it is a fantastic story and has a great end.

Have you ever found yourself staring at a blank page in your notebook and waiting for inspiration to fall from the sky?  Have you ever scrounged for decent ideas for journal entries? You are not alone!

Try this link to Sandra Effinger’s 258 Journal Ideas.  If you think of a cool topic that isn’t on that list, add your idea to the blog as a comment to this post.