And obviously ignore the part about the October 14th due date. They'll be due on Friday, October 21st. Have fun!
I can't wait to do this assignment!
A Harmless Smoke
Hastily tossed aside, it rolled as if on a mission. Under the seafoam green bench. Past the lockers, finding its way through flip-flops and feet. Rolling. Bounced down the green grassy slope across a concrete path, coming to rest on a patch of dry, crisp grass underneath a purple slide. A cool breeze picks up coaxing the smoldering embers back to life. A single spark. Shooting into the sky, decends back to earth glowing. The grass starts to smoke, then a visible flame appears, eating. I spreads licking its way across the garssy plain to the slides it grows. Fueled by wind, it begins to engulf a slide. A bell rings in the distance, people start to rush past. But it is too late, it has already gone out of control. When the smoke clears, firemencan be seen rolling hoses up and piling back into the shiny, red trucks. Looks of regret pass from face to face. The Lakeville City Water Park is no more.
At 8:00 a.m. the alarm that brings Jimmy back to consciousness every day went off. But this time, Jimmy was already awake. He was unable to sleep because today was the day he’d been waiting for all summer. It was his bi-annual check-up at the dentist’s office. After quickly eating his breakfast and getting dressed, Jimmy went straight to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Time flew by, and 1.5 hours and half of a tube of toothpaste later, Jimmy looked at the clock to find he was late for school. After arriving at school, he counted the minutes until he could leave Miss Applejack’s third-grade classroom and go to the glorious dental office. Finally, the intercom dismissed Jimmy and he sprinted into the parking lot where his mom was waiting. Once they arrived, he went immediately to the bathroom, busted out the toothbrush and toothpaste he always carried with him, and brushed away. Suddenly, his name was called and he hurried into his favorite room in the entire world. The smell was refreshing, the chair was heavenly, and “The Lion King” was playing on the ceiling TV. The cleaning was as magnificent as he remembered and it was now time for the main event. His hero had arrived to take a look at his teeth.
“You’re teeth look great,” he said.
Jimmy could hardly contain his excitement.
“However, your gums look as if they’ve never been flossed before. You have severe Gingivitis.”
Jimmy was crushed.
As I walked through the locker room, I
could feel the tension. A tension so thick
that you could cut it with a knife. Looking down at my teammates faces, I see the desire to win, the desire to be the best. Stepping up to make my speech, my words don't come so easily. "It's been a long journey, but now is our time to shine. We have a real team, not just a bunch of McNabbs and T.O.'s, but a real team, a family. Let's go out there and show them how we play." Stepping down, I lace up my cleats, strap on my pads and throw #12 on. Running out into the lights, one word is on my mind. Repeat.
The day starts at eight. It was an uncomfortable ride to school but I made it all the same. From first period I knew it was going to be a rough day, as we had a surprise quiz in Calculus. That’s what welcomed me to Thursday. I was pushing too hard to get the correct answer; meticulously carving out each number and equation. The next couple classes were a breeze as there weren’t many notes to take, so I just got to kick back and doodle a bit, trying not to do anything too mechanical. On my way to fourth period I realized what would be awaiting me: the summer essay. Before I even began I knew I would need to sharpen up. By the end of the day I was getting dull, worn down to almost nothing. Anyway, if a student thinks their day is hard, I bet they can’t imagine what it’s like from a pencils point of view.
Hot stuffy air and only my thoughts are with me in this moment of despair. The hopeless feeling and I pushing myself to the limit praying that I will not be found. For I know, if I am, utter doom will come to me with open arms. Off in the distance I hear the soft pacing of foot steeps. I hold my breath my heart quickens. Then the pacing descends off into the other direction. I start to relax, but as soon as they go the foot steeps come sounding louder and faster as they approach. I hold my breath and try to ball up even tighter, almost becoming one with the box I’m hidden in. Now pure silent’s; wondering how can moments this silent, be so loud. Worrying if my heart beat can be heard through this box. Then, sharp pain goes through my leg my world starts spinning, and time seems to stop. A bright light comes through the box as it tips over. I fall out of it in a fury. All I hear next is a soft chuckle and the pain full words of defeat, “Your it.”…. Dang Cramp.
It was a school night, and my brother and I were staying up late for a good cause. We were watching Return of the Jedi, when all of a sudden we heard a noise outside, a bump in the night that could only mean one thing: burglars. It was clear that evil was afoot, so my brother and I charged out the front door to do battle with villainy. I was armed with a Red Rider BB Gun and my brother wielded his incorruptible Master Sword; he was the hero of time and I the Lone Ranger. Ever-vigilant, we waded through the darkness outside in our tennis shoes, perusing every corner, every shadow for signs of the nefarious intruder. Upon securing the perimeter, we decided that the coward must have fled once he sensed our valor and spiffiness, so we reentered our secret headquarters and continued watching Star Wars. Evil fears us.
I had a blast doing this assignment!
My burning lungs ached as I sprinted to help those in the field. In what seemed like a split second half of my platoon was killed, crushed by the opposing forces. I fled like a coward full of anger, shame, and fear. Why do these guys have such a strong arsenal? During my sprint for safety I came across an unconscious but alive soldier with a rank symbol I had never seen before. Trying to help him I couldn’t help but notice how cold he was. He awoke mid treatment with a start and pushed me away. Recognizing me as friendly he hands me some files, a vial, and a toolkit. “Finish my job” he asked me in a hollow voice through shallow breaths. Staring at his tired but determined eyes filled me with a sense of pride and duty. “Tell me your objective brother” I replied. “Everything you need is in the files, thank you” he said in an extremely faint voice. As he took his last breath I remembered all of the things I left behind when I joined the service, my family, my friends, my girl. This dead man likely had a similar life and I felt his pain of losing it. I opened the surprisingly clean manila folder and found a picture of our commander shaking hands with the opposing forces leader in front of a huge stack of weapons. The next picture shows the commander in front of hundreds of cameras and the American flag. Are we fighting forces we supplied? Could our commander really be behind all of this pointless death, and become president because of it? I hurriedly open the toolkit and find devices that seem to be straight out of science fiction. Then I realize this dead man, with such a strange rank, wasn’t from our side or the enemy’s side. He isn’t from our time. He knew what was coming and gave the knowledge to me. I will finish his job and change the future.
Arriving to the stadium after a gruesome day of listening to monotonous superiors, Josiah placed his rump on the cold metal seat. Watching the athletes, his eyelids started to droop and in an instant he had opened his eyes and felt refreshed by the crisp fall breeze. Through the haze he watched in amazement as a touchdown was snagged by the home team. His eyes lit up as he glanced at the distant scoreboard. The home team had crushed the opposing team. The crowd roared with excitement and he himself had felt a jolt of sanity. He had reviewed the score and was flabbergasted. His eyes had deceived him!
It starts at home. A new window opens. I watch you, smiling. The tricky thing is, you can’t see me. You may have no idea that I’m even watching you. I’ve watched you grow up from a baby, to young adult. You may not know my face and only my name. But I know exactly who you are. We share friends and even similar liking to certain things. I know your birthday, hometown and even your work. I can feel what you’re feeling. I know you’re every thought. Sometimes I wish I had the mere courage of stepping up and sharing a personal thought of mine with you. To just have something else in common with you. When I haven’t heard from you in a while, all it takes is a quick refresh. I often think to myself, why can’t we be friends? It’s so simple. And then I log off of Facebook.
They never knew I existed, but for three months I had been sneaking in undetected. They probably didn’t even know this room existed based on the dust packed in inch thick heaps.
Every night I scaled the olive tree with treat in hand, for the cat. I would slip in the window and lay on a flannel sheet they had in a closet.
I loved to listen to her tell stories. I imagined her sitting on the edge of his bed just like any mother would. As she told the story I could see her facial expressions and the way her hands moved as she explained how Aladdin and Jasmine flew through the sky on their magic carpet.
It got cold upstairs but I didn’t mind. Sometimes the cat would come lay with me. Around 1 o’clock I would glide downstairs to find some food they wouldn’t miss.
Tonight I chose a banana. I unwrapped the fruit and went back upstairs to my hideout. But just as I reached the top stairs there he was. He looked just like any other boy his age: dark brown hair and bright blue eyes with a ring of sleep around them.
“Can I have a bite?”
Slowly I broke off a piece and handed it to him. He took it gracefully turned around and went back to bed.
My heart was pounding and I could do nothing but run. There were footsteps at a distance. I shut the door. They were at the stairs now. I grabbed my backpack and stuffed the flannel sheet inside. The door handle began to shake and another set of footsteps approached. My finger grazed the light switch and the room went dark.
I see my victim. Its brown, coarse body tiptoeing through the field. It doesn't know what I'm about to do; that he has no hope of survival. I hunch down in the engulfing grass. My paws quiver with excitement. Using my perfected army crawl, I make my way closer to my prey. It's almost time to pounce. Closer, closer..attack! The little critter's a quick one! He slips through my slashing claws heading for the nearest tree. I can't let him reach his fortress or I've lost him for good. My legs are practically falling over each other but I won't take my eyes off that bushy tail. He's getting closer to the tree. I can't let him escape! Run...faster! My mouth is open inches from the fluffy body. Almost got him...no! I've failed as a hound. My no surviving prey seems to be mocking me through the branches of the tree. My ears feel extra droopy. What an embarrassment. Then, from the corner of my eye I see another brown flick of fluff and I'm at it again.
Your 12th birthday- the one that will determine the rest of your life. My heart skipped a beat as the letter came through the door and the owl flew away. The distinct gold seal shimmered in the light. I could barely break the seal as my hands trembled in anticipation. There it was, even better than I could have imagined: "We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." I immediately packed my bags, although there was still 52 days until term began September 1st. I held my want in my hand anxiously awaiting the day that I would run through platfrom 9 and 3/4. The best day of my life, but you muggles would never understand.
I needed a ride. It was the eve of my birthday, and trusty ol' Shakira had broken down again. He was of the awkward sort, someone you might by and not notice but to remark on the oddness of his immaculate dress, But he was there, and he had a license. Yet, the night turned out fun, with two of my best friends and me battling through the November rain in heels and a run-in with a child whose visage was marred by an abundance of cilia. The success of our driver earned him the right to chauffeur the rest of the week and gradually driver transformed to friend. Now, nearly a year later, he, this boy, this man, lies laughing on my bed between us. A friend, a companion, found merely through the necessity of a ride.
Stormy, gray clouds blot out the sun. A well lit night, although it is mid morning. Rain sprinkles down upon an old, rundown apartment complex, which is, surprisingly, still in business. Weeds and other unwanted plants have snuck their way around the building, and having met no opposition, are beginning their climb up the dismal walls. On the third floor, a young man works furiously in his apartment.
The apartment contains four rooms: a bedroom, a kitchen, a living room, and a bathroom. The paint is peeling on every wall, revealing a sickly, yellow, pus-looking material behind it. The door is splintered, and there are holes in the walls, results from the past frustrations of the occupant.
In the kitchen, dirty tile scatters itself across the floor. It retains a filth that will never be clean. The cupboards are a mix of open and closed, and everything in between, randomly, chaotically. A few are even falling off their hinges. A hectic mass of dirty dishes lies upon the counter, all oddly assorted. Some look to be growing mold. The sink is ill-kept and looks as if it might be more likely to spew mud than water.
The young man, sitting at his kitchen counter, scribbles furiously. His eyes are on fire and his brain is spinning from the effort, the thrill, of the math he is working out. The math required to power his idea. The idea he wants to make reality. So fervently he works, so focused upon his ideas and inventions and the seductiveness of complexity that he fails to note the beauty of the rain. He fails to hear the rhythmic patterns it makes upon the window, or the steady drumming it makes upon the ground.
Outside, the gray, cloudy skies weep softly. They weep for the changing of the times and the violence of the beasts that inhabit the world below they love so much. They weep for the ingenuity of humanity, for the progression it has made, for the irrelevance of its cause. "Don’t they know they will ruin themselves?"
The page went blurry, or was it my eyes, what had I been doing? I blinked to clear my eyes, to focus on the text. My eyes adjusted only to revert back to their earlier confusion. The word were a dyslexic like mess. I pulled myself back together. 9:30, biology homework, studying disorders. My fingers pressed the paper where I left off a minute before, retracing back a few lines and started again. Soon my eyes dried, dried so I couldn't close them, frozen on 3 words. Cystic Fibrosis and fetal.
Right under Sickle cell anemia. Factual, cold and impersonal. That isn't Alex. She hilarious,goofy, warm.
The best person I know. But I didn't. I didn't know what she would be. I didn't know how real her disease was. No one had told me. But I did now. Knew she would never have kids, knew we wouldn't grow old together, knew she was going to die before I was over the hill. Alex deserved more then a 6 line paragraph in a text book, and more then 35 years to live. But, I guess, life isn't fair.
I opened my eyes and looked at the clock. It said 6:30am. Not being a morning person I had never actually seen the hands in that position. I took a shower even though I had taken one the night before. I put on my best pants and shirt. I even tucked it in.
The bus ride to school seemed especially long. As I entered Mrs. Verner's third grade class room, I took my seat. I turned my head and saw Annie walk into the room. She was carrying a plate full of homemade cookies. We were going to celebrate her birthday today in class. I've had a crush on her for over a week and I knew she felt the same about me. On top of the pile of cookies was one that was five times bigger than the others.
She began passing out the cookies to the class. When it was my turn to receive one, she smiled and handed me the big cookie. I knew this was a declaration of our love. I was so excited to take a bite.
When I looked down at it my heart sank. It was a peanut butter cookie. I knew right then and there that my love walked hand and hand with my doom. As I looked even closer I could see the excellent craftsmanship and care that was put into this masterpiece. With my EpiPen at the ready, I took a bite. Within seconds,I could feel my tongue swelling and my throat closing. With my last breath I looked at Annie and said,
Then I quickly stabbed my right thigh with my EpiPen. Before leaving for the Emergency room, Annie kissed me on the cheek.
The cool spring sun and the warm summer nights rewarded him for his thousand year journey. Every disturbance had created a vehicle that drove him ever so closer to his goal, but no more. He had finally made it. What once was a life of cruel submersion had turned into glorious freedom. Freedom to enjoy the freshness that the spring rain would bring, freedom to be exposed to the bitter gusts of fall, and freedom to experience the clarity of each night as it revealed an innumerable amount of angelic dots at a distance he could only dream of. He enjoyed this life for decades, but centuries of the same leisure would be curtailed by the whim of one. On a particularly warm summer afternoon pale faces of three beasts entered his domain. His figure was singled out of the many clones and clutched in the sweaty palms of the monster as its grainy fingers prepared him for unwanted nostalgia. He flew. He had always wanted to, but as he licked the water again and again a horrible realization hit him as he hit the bottom. He had been flung generations. Back at the starting line the years wore on and time ceased to exist as he gazed toward the sky hoping it would reveal a clarity he had once cherished, but it remained distorted by the murky depths of his underwater prison.
-The Life of a Rock
Everday is the same thing. Slowly I opened my brown sack lunch, listening to the brown wrinkles crinkling, as my stomach grumbled excitedly in anticipation. Considering I had skipped breakfast that morningin my hurry to arrive to Spanish on time, my mind had been with my mothers' lunch all morning. Moms' world-famous turkey sandwich topped with lettuce, home-grown tomatoes, mustard, on wheat bread. Laying beside it rested the succulent yellow Granny Smith apple- my favorite- and a Rice Krispy Treat from Costco. "Seriously?" I groaned. I glared at the apple atop my lunch. Surely my turkey sandwich was flattened. Surely my lunch was pulvarized. How many times had I told that woman first goes the apple, followed by the Rice Krispy Treat, followed by the oh-so-delicious sandwich. Ugh. I reluctantly unpacked the food. The sandwich was unharmed as it was cushionedby a bag of Goldfish(also from Costco) andmyday was no longer ruined.
As he becomes aware of the rocket-ship blasting away from earth, he wonders "Is this real? Am I going to the moon?" He's memorized by the billions of stars that are zooming past the ships windows. The moon that once was a speckle in the distance is now in full view. The ship is not slowing down. It just past the moon. He panics at the thought of not going to the moon, but soon he passes mars. "Where is this ship taking me?" When the alarm from the gas gauge awakes him from his starry dream he comes to his senses and see's he's strapped into the control seat. He was going to have to crash land this ship. The next planet that he was about to pass was Saturn. As the impact of hitting the planet is about to occur he springs up from his bed. Sun shinning from the window and birds chirping in the trees. "Darn it was just a dream."
Sam hadn’t been planning on robbing anyone that day. Without time to prepare himself, he found himself shaky, and he tried to still his trembling hands with a quiet cracking of knuckles. Carefully, slowly, he reached into the coat pocket of his doppelganger, his sweaty fingers closing on the leather wallet. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with oxygen before releasing it slowly. With a swift movement, he pulled the wallet out of the expensive looking coat. Suppressing a smile, Sam turned around, and walked to a telephone booth. Shielding himself behind the flaking blue paint of the structure, he flipped through his prize. He smiled as he looked at the picture, almost a mirror image of himself. He glanced at his new name, Joseph T. Cottonwood. Sam could practically see himself ripping up his criminal record full to the brim of unimpressive misdemeanors. This was a new chance at life for him, a new identity that gave him a little bit of an advantage. The stack of 50s folded in the side pocket didn’t hurt either.
The next day, police arrested Joseph T. Cottonwood for company embezzlement. In response to the outlandish denying of his own identity, authorities responded simply, “Photo ID doesn’t lie.”
My first ever snowball fight resulted in tears, a sore behind, and a black eye. Now that you know the ending, let’s start at the beginning. One very snowy day in December, about thirteen years ago, my two older brothers and I were very bored. Like the sensible kids we were, we suited up in our snow gear, and sprinted outside to enjoy the heavenly white fluff. Once we got outside, my brothers both declared that they were at war with me. Knowing my brothers, I was likely to get hurt somehow. So I stuck my tongue out at them and refused to take part in their war. One of my brothers, Chris, called me a chicken, and said I couldn’t hit him anyways, so I would just lose. Being naturally competitive, I screamed “you’re on!”, and raced to the opposite side of the yard to construct a fort. But before I had picked up any snow, I was being pelted by snow grenades. My only chance was to take cover behind a large tree in our yard. As my adrenaline kicked in, I could hear them running towards me. So I hurriedly grabbed handfuls of powder and smushed them together, resulting in a large pile of powder around my feet. When I heard them a few feet away from me, I snatched up a chunk of snow, surprised at how hard it felt. This was it, my last stand. I gripped the snowball firmly in my right hand, and turned around to face the enemy. Poof! My face was covered in white powder and I fell backwards onto my behind as my brothers began to snicker at me. I was so surprised, that I didn’t realize that I was crying until warm tears were pouring down my face, melting the snow. The brother who had hit me, Chris, freaked out and ran over to apologize, trying to pick me up. I saw my chance, and I seized it. Closing my eyes, I pulled back my arm like a major league pitcher, and shot it forward, releasing at the perfect moment. I opened my eyes because my brother had dropped me on the ground. Suddenly I heard high pitched screaming and looked over to see Chris lying on his back, holding his left eye and screaming my name. Later, I found out that the chunk of snow I had grabbed was a large piece of ice. Victory was mine!
That was the only thought I was capable of thinking as the ground flew beneath my feet and the underbrush scratched at my legs. Nothing else mattered, except that I make it to the river. Ignore the stinging of the scrapes, ignore the burning of the lungs, ignore the dizziness in the head, and just get to the water! If I can get to the water, I’ll be safe – maybe.
My heart was beating as fast as my racing steps, threatening to leap out of my chest if I pushed my pace any harder. My legs were screaming in pain, but I couldn’t stop no matter how much they ached for rest. I ran as if the hounds from hell were behind me, which, they might as well be. I could hear the wolves behind me, their howls nearing by the second.
That was the only thought I was capable of.
In the gym, the players feel the vibration of the music is blasting. As they are getting ready for their battle, their parents and fans are trickling in. It is almost time… my excitement is building, ready to explode. I stare down their coach. In my mind I make a slitting motion across my throat. The whistle blows. The energy in me bursts out like dynamite. The gym is loud with girls yelling. The ball is bouncing around the battle field like in a pinball machine. There is a second pause as the ball flies high in the air. I look on the opposite side of the net, wink at my victim and go in for the kill.
The bond forged between brothers is one that reaches deeper levels than the sea of dreams. Especially one not created by blood, but by heart. I find myself often pondering the future and thinking of all the wonderful things to come, but oh so much for not only me, but him to do. In preparation for the excitement of years to come, it is more and more important; the bond of brothers that is felt through and through. I tell him to prepare for the tearful hug we will share after walking across the stage in June. I tell him to prepare for that moment he finds himself giving a speech raising his glass to me in front of hundreds. I Tell him to prepare the camera for that day when new life is introduced into the world. All this time preparing seems rather premature, but I know for a fact that when I find myself vowing, "Till death do us part," it is not only to the person with whose hands I am holding, but the one standing behind me whispering jokes in my ear that I really committed that to so many years previous. But for now, I'll just tell him to keep preparing...
There he stood, Galatix, my sworn arch nemesis of the realm Golgatron! He was holding my beloved princess Sequeesha of Nethergard above a raging, whirling, bolstring vat of the dreaded Trillwock; the most vile, decrepit creature that ever came to be. Turning on my anti-matter suit and second generation Ray Gun2000 I propelled viciously at Galatix with all my mighty power. Sequeesha cried out in terror as a glancing beam of light gashed my chest. I quickly countered with a three shot burst from the hip, destroying his bodyguards and dispatched his amor and weapon at the same instant. I walked up to Galatix, who was now defeated and helpless, so full of rage and fury that my eyes glistened with blood and not even Hades himself would dare look at me. I holstered my weapon, slowly clenching him by his gullet, and hurled him headlong into the dark abyss from whence he worth cometh.
Turning my eyes upon the princess, the wrath now draining from every fiber of my being, only love could calm my hatred. Quickly forgetting every battle scar I had endured, I swept up Seaqueesha in a warm embrace and flew up with her into the stars. As we arrived at Nebulon 6, we took one last gaze at the tattered planet Golgatron. Now, finally. The moment had come. With passion flowing in our veins, our eyes met with love beyond all telling. I leaned in for the kiss...CARL!!! Wake up son you're late for your interview with GameStop! By the way if you get somehow get the job honey you gotta move out. You can't live in our basement forever. Poppy and I are fit to move into the retirement home shortly. I laid there stunned for a second as my hairy belly rumbled for some of my mommas bacon omelets. Finally I responded, Geepers mom I know! I'm only 42...
He didn’t know what to do.
The sun slathered his face with heat, but did not cause his sweat. His heartbeat frequented many times over. The height had not scared him; he had seen this before, many times in his mind. The people below did not scare him either, he cared so little for any of them. The last time he had been scared, he had witnessed his mother’s most sacred giving. It was not his father who had received.
The source of his sudden fright was not even the police, whom had come to see him, and had not known him until seconds ago, but were adamantly convinced of the many things he had to live for. They could not stop him. But someone could.
He had been ready to jump, ready to fall. Those who had created pseudo intimacy with him were down on the street, looking up and weeping. The tragic horror of this information passed through his brain without a feeble chance of reaching his soul. They had never known him. He was not angry anymore, not sad, certainly not sorry. There was determination in his mind, something altogether more dangerous.
But so few words stopped his path with the force of an iceberg.
“You’ll have to push me first”
She hugged him. She was there for him now as she always had been. Her eyeliner trailed down her cheeks as if she were a crying painting. Tears were no longer in her, only determination, something entirely more stunning.
He didn’t know what to do. He had known something so simple for a long time, he had known where he was going, he had known what he had to do, he had conditioned himself for the task, just as his life had conditioned him for the pain. Yet the serenity of his plan had been put to shame. But she stood between. She had dared to care for him, making no mistake of the risk. She had cared beyond culture, beyond friends, beyond many parts of better judgment, she had reached. Damn her. Damn it all!
She looked up at him, as though she were gazing at a crucifix. He had no defense for her. She had gone deeper than all those who had cheated, all those who had dangled love before his face without satisfying. He did not know what to do. He stepped back, and fell to his knees.
I get to class just wanting to catch up with my buddies when mean teacher man decides to rob us of our first amendment rights all day. Then he stifles our creativity and any artistic prowess. Then he forces us to do an assignment the likes of which we've never seen before. He's adopted this ludicrous learn by doing approach, which is borderline impossible when every ounce of creativity is being put down. This short story assignment is lame.
The adrenaline pumping through my body as I sprinted was infuriating. I’ve been trained to handle situations like this my whole life. So what, if I have an elite strike force of ninjas chasing after me. So what if my Dad, the person who trained me, also trained them. Traitorous son of a – never mind. I continue running. So what if they outnumber me ten to one. I can do this. Getting over confident, I ran into a random alley. Catastrophic mistake. I blink. My heart skips a beat. I’m surrounded. Ten Ninjas. My heart regains rhythm. No way out. I should run. That’s what they’d expect. But, taking a breath, I realize I can’t do that. Not anymore. I left that life a long time ago. Why Run? What’s the point? You’re probably thinking, “Because there are ten ninjas trying to kill you!” I say, “No, no, no, when faced with adversity you can’t just run away. Especially with ninjas. Where’s the fun in that? You have to kick adversity in the face. Figuratively speaking, of course.” Yeah, I was taught to run when you’re outnumbered. Not a chance. Not this time. Running from a fight is for babies and quitters. I am neither. So, I stood my ground, and prepared an onslaught of face kicking. Literally speaking.
As I gazed across the crowd full of wandering people, I finally saw him. From a distance, he looked perfect. Instantly I felt as though my cheeks were on fire, and my stomach was filled with the spasm of a thousand heartbeats. He began to walk towards me, the outline of his lips in a perfect boyish grin, his smell intoxicating, overwhelming my senses. I had a sneaking suspicion that he had a very important question to ask me. All I could think about was being twirled across the dance floor, with a gentle breeze that left me covered in goosebumps. He had almost reached me, when suddenly a loud noise broke his attention, and I was jolted awake.
It takes one swipe of a card. Twenty dollars, thirty dollars, eighty dollars, a hundred! Wow what a rush, oh the excitment. Need news shoes, new seater, new jeans, did i really need that? Of course! Out with the old in with the new. Ponder...do i really need this? Of course! Last pair of heels in my size? Their mine! Well of course. Is that girl eyeing my shoes? Get her, their mine! What did you do today? Go shopping? Well of course!
To most, it’s another course of assigning meaning to numbers. For myself, it’s a way of assigning numbers to an unnatural, even maniacal denotation. Time is a ticking mechanism which could drive a man to insanity. I ought to know, how do you think I got here? I can count to the day, the hour, minute, even second I have been here and it’s all because of the intolerable clock. But I know what they’ve done. They’ve put it here just to spite me. Sitting here, now, I can feel blow of its ticking in my head. It hurts my head, so I try to throw it out. I’m not mad, am I? As they say, only time will tell.
Abby Reynolds is not your typical 8-year-old girl. She spends her free time in a cold, desolate, hospital room with her mom who is suffering a rare heart disease and is in need of a vital surgery. The days had been gloom and dreary in the little town of Bay Grove. Abby would watch out the window as the rain came pouring down, pelting the dark pavement with puddles of hopelessness, as if the sky would never see the sun shine again. One day, the weather took a turn for the best. Abby peered out the window gazing her eyes upon a beautiful array of colors forming a rainbow in the sky. Smiling from ear to ear, Abby’s heart burst with joy as she remembered a tale she had once heard. There was one thought crossed her mind, the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. If only she could find the end, surely she would have enough money to help her mom recover. With the thought in mind she raced out the door in sheer determination.
After what seemed like hours of searching Abby began to panic, unsure of how far the end of the rainbow could be. In desperation, she ran into a nearby floral shop. As Abby gasped for air, she timidly asked for directions to the end of the rainbow. The woman, concerned, had to break the cruel truth to her. Abby was distraught, and broke into a soft cry, letting out her troubles of her mom’s illness. The lady smiled at Abby. She said that her husband was a successful heart surgeon that would gladly perform the surgery. She gave Abby a bouquet of flowers for her mom, along with the news that a bright future was on its way.
In many days of darkness, Bay Grove did cast light upon the town, bringing hope through the sign of a rainbow to everyone, even Abby and her Mom in room 109 at Bay Grove Hospital.
As I looked across the tile floor after a startling pounding on my door, an overwhelming fear swept upon me. They're coming for me. Sitting up slowly but surely, I listened, but could only focus on my heart trying to launch itself from my chest. I tried to think once more with my head banging and sweaty palms, but couldn't with all the earsplitting noise. So I crept over the chilling floor, biting the tips of my toes. Moving as if I was carrying a ticking time bomb, I peaked around the steel door out the window. A surreptitious shadow swayed outside on the prowl, veiled by a burnt out lightbulb. Horrified and curious, I placed my hand on the doorknob. With sinister music playing in the back of my mind, I opened the door.
"Hi, I'm Mary Sue. Would you like to buy some Girl Scout cookies?"
The hum of the V6 in our family’s SUV washes over me in a wave of relief. Everyone’s eyes are straight ahead. The tension in the air was as thick as my mothers’ hard headedness. It’s mid December, a blanket of snow covers the ground around the open highway. “Does it feel warm in here to you?” my mother subtly asks. My father points outside and explains to my mother at which the temperature water freezes. A bad move on my fathers’ part for his ignorance of the chocolate wrappers littered about my mothers feet will cost him dearly. It was no sarcastic comment my mother made about the temperature in the car.
The man was solemnly laying there, legs broken unable to run. There was no escape. Blinded by the rays of the lamp, all he could do was watch and listen to the shadows that lurked about the room. The gleaming metal beneath him illustrated the reflection of what seemed to be a bottle. He could make out only two letters “lk” from the worn, tattered label. He did not need to ponder the contents of the bottle for he knew perfectly well what was to come. At that moment, his head was submerged into the unspeakable substance. Gagging and feeling his skin crumble, the man gasped for his last breath, but was interrupted by the abrupt appearance of an angel. The figure, although still large, was significantly smaller in stature compared to the others. As it grew nearer, the man suddenly realized the true identity of his savior. The sight of the scarlet garbs that draped the figure’s body and unforgettable charcoal hair flashed all but pleasant memories into the man’s mind. These recollections contributed to the man’s stubborn behavior towards the figure’s following interrogation. Being dedicated to his allegiances, the man abstained from answering the figures questions. As the figure was growing impatient, it was merely from one motion of the hand that caused the man to divulge all of his knowledge. With a piercing cry the man shouted, “NO, NOT THE GUMDROP BUTTONS!”
Within my hands, sat the worlds most precious discovery. So powerful and yet all contained within a simple glass vile. I gawked lustfully at the thick liquid. It had valuable properties contained within it, having the ability to prevent diseases and harden bones. Such a prize would help all the human race! No longer able to resist the temptation, I lifted the glass to my face, staring at its majesty, then pressing my lips upon it’s smooth surface.
Suddenly, a strong force pushed up against my shoulder as a man hurriedly ran by. The elixir slid from my finger tips and gravity took hold upon it. I watched helplessly as it fell, falling almost as if time had slowed itself. I’ve never felt so powerless in my life. Finally the glass made impact with the hard floor, shattering the container and spewing its contents along the floor. Letting out a silent scream, I stared in horror as life’s nectar drip along the tiles. My knees gave out and I fell to the floor, kneeling over the remains. Tears sprung to my eyes and I wept. All had been lost.
My mom often told me not to cry over spilled milk, but I didn’t listen.
Once upon a time there was alittle mocha colored mouse and alittle white mouse. They wouldalways go to the feild across from their homes. one day the mocha mouse, Sam, didnt show up to come play with stella. She got scared something had happened to him so she went to go find him. first she check t his house but there was nobody home.She had remembered the rail road track no far from their homes where Sam would go to get away and look at the city. Stella ran as fast as her little legs could. When she got close to the tracks she saw a little pinkish tail hanging over one of the tracks. She ran faster. At the tracks she saw the thing she was most scared of. dealth of her best friend. She cried and cried. Everyday she goes to the spot where she last saw him and lays down a single flower in his honor.
I live under a supernatural tyrant by the name of Specter. By my religion he is the antichrist. My mother warned me not to confront him, but I knew that would be the wrong choice. I was determined to kill him despite the failure to do so by so many others. As I walked to his temple I was horrified by the sickly green tint to the air. I clasp my ax in my hand as I enter in search of the main chamber. Once I located the chamber I took a deep breath and entered silently. I scanned the room, but there was no sign of Specter. I took a deep breath of relief and opened the door and Specter was standing right there. I swung my ax at him but he caught it and broke my wrist releasing the ax from my clutches. He then seized me by the throat and tossed me across the room. Before I can get up Specter appears before me in a puff of smoke and thrust my ax deep into my chest.. There I lay in a pool of my own blood remembering the sound of my mother’s voice as I lay dying. Specter walked away dissatisfied at the mere child’s play of the one sided struggle.
I am a train conductor. Every day, for the last 20 years, I take this train from one location to the next. I pass the same scenery daily, feeling the loneliness and isolation of a conductors life. No family, no companions, just my thoughts and the train tracks ahead of me. the only thing that gets me through the day is the enthusiastic wave from the beautiful woman on her front porch. of course, I only see her for a moment while passing. but that moment is the source of my only happiness. I felt our connection was real and tried to gain the courage to knock on her door. once I did, i found out to my dismay, that she wasn't waving with joy at me. She was cursing the train that woke her up daily.
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By each day I feel that I will never escape. As I grow stronger my will to seek the light savagely occupies my every thought, but this tantalizing dream is constantly crushed by the tangible reality that the walls which surround me are closing in. The pulsating pounds which have engulfed me for as long as I can remember rapidly penetrate the warm walls of my confinement. They seem to be carrying a mysterious code that I quickly decifer. A new era awaits just beyond the horizon. My nine month imprisonment draws to a close, moments later the warm walls release me, the light poors through as new journey begins.
Dreary Lane is located amidst a petite Louisiana neighborhood where the sun always shines. The person who resides on this street hasn't many friends however, only acquaintances, as none truly know him. He resembles somewhat of a Boo Radley, a mysterious figure always feared but never seen. Children of the town make a game of collecting data to prove his existence, a trail of crumbs or perhaps a scent. Only during the night does he dare venture out of the confines of his home when no one watches. Every so often he hears the faint sound of children chiding the ancient song written to mock his lonely existence. The man fears other life to the very core of his being; sweat beads above his lips, veins protrude from his skin, nails dig into his sweaty, balled fists. Perhaps this uncontrolled anxiety is why nobody wants an introduction, but he cannot understand. Unfortunately, The Muffin Man is condemned to an eternity of anonymity and the delicate art of baking muffins.
It was five am and I slapped my obnoxious alarm. No one would see the red silk superman underwear inwas wearing because well there was no wife, no sister, no girl, nothing, alone. It was okay for me to still devour a bowl of coco puffs and have that hideous clue left behind, "The milk stash". No one was going to see and judge my failure to grow up like us "Adults" were suppose to do. So I took my hand and wiped off my milk stash leaving the white substance on my skin that was used for a temporary napkin. Put on my shirt and tie, and grabbed my suit case sitting by the door. I opened the door as the crisp breeze gave my skin a morning call. Suitcase in hand, I was ready to take on the day...one foot in front of the other I was strutting down the cobbled street when I noticed eyes shifting to me and laughters whispered from surrounding areas. An anxious frightened boy came from a far an slowly approached me. I questioned his appearance. I towered over him as he got closer, his eyes scanning me while then pointing to my lower quartile, and laughter bursting out of his quivering mouth. I looked down to see that my superman red silk boxers were now seen by every wife, every sister, and every girl. Taking on the day was an under statement.
Shots flew all around as I dove for cover. I reloaded my clip and waited. I had eight shots remaining and there were enemy tangos closing in from all sides. I blindly chucked my last grenade from my hiding place in the brush. The gunfire continued from all sides and I called for my comrades through our earpieces. No reply, they had all been killed. I knew now that it was time for me to make a last stand. I can take solace in the fact that if I go down it's with all of my brothers. I poke the barrel of my sniper rifle above the brush and shot and missed a tall lanky commie (communist). At this point my location is completely given away. The commies converged on all sides of me. I pulled out my pistol and inflicted two fatal wounds. Then I turned around and looked down the barrel of a communist AR 15. It is at that instant that my entire world went dark. My mom turned off my xbox because it was apparently time for dinner. I was furious until I found out my mother had mad chicken alfredo.
The blustery wind swept across the bedroom window. Startled, Caroline woke up realizing she was late for school. With jacket in hand, book bag swung over her shoulder, she trampled through the snow to the bus stop. Surprisingly, she did not see the bus arrive with all her friends from high school, it was instead a horse drawn carriage. As she stepped into the carriage, the scenery suddenly changed into the late 1800’s Boston. Frightened as to her surroundings, the carriage arrived at a church schoolhouse. As she stepped out, she was suddenly greeted by the teacher who looked so vaguely familiar. Could it be her great great great grandmother? She had the same honey colored hair and eyes like her mom. She was suddenly destitute. Then the teacher began repeating her name over and over. How could she have known her name? ……. Smack! She was suddenly awakened by her antagonizing younger sister, swinging the clock in front of her face. She was definitely late for school after all.