December 23, 2010
and skipand prance in a fancy stance
my life revolves around this act
so flawlessly, I can interact
as I make my way accross the floor
my dancing pants fly out of the door
I still am dancing flawlessly, but
without regard for the law you see
It's something i can't bear.
They seem to be multiplying everyday,
I cannot stand the color of their hair.
I avoid them on the streets, in the halls, and on the bus.
Their red hair drives me crazy, and they tend to look like trolls.
I know it seems like I'm creating quite the fuss,
I avoid them because rumor has it, they like to steal your souls.
it's an ipse dixit, to be exact.
There's no proof of the color of the sky.
Those who claim blue, are just telling a lie.
The blue that you think you see
is merely an illusion, a mere fancy.
Don't trust it because your eyes decieve
What you see is not what you should believe.
You came so fast, it was like a dream
Purring so loud, damn, we make a good team
The second I saw you, I knew it was love
The way you look... you must be from heaven above
When I turn you on in the morning,
You get hot real quick
When I go to shift you, I have to touch your stick
Up all night, exploring the town
But later on, it all goes down
You're my reason for living, you're my escape
I could play back our memories like playing a tape
When you're not with me, I feel so alone
The second you come back, you put me in the zone
Come back to me, I miss you so
We'll ride off into the sunset and never let go...
Do you know what the best thing in the world is? Watching Death Sea go under. A ship with many memories, the ship I grew up in since I was 5. But now washed away and in Sea’s world. I was close to Davy Jones’s grip, but I got away. Alas me lad, this isn’t the first time that I have encountered Jones’s. (But strangely it’s better than receiving a Black Spot. Uncle Edmund got one 5 years ago, and the next day he was found dead along the shoreline.) It’s like I have been cursed since the day I was born. But now I’m a 20 year old man, all alone in this rowboat, with a bottle of rum, a true pirate’s friend. Even my duffle is empty. There’s only some loot, a compass, my bottles of ink, me rum, an old map and me feathered pen. I’m a chowderhead for not taking my things when I heard the cannons from afar. But am I a silly pirate for carin’ about me old crew? Oh devil, I’m a love pirate.
The sea is different when you’re all alone. It’s calm and eerie. But I’m not afraid of the old ocean. But being all by myself… Maybe I am afraid of being alone at night. I had a cabin. Now it’s just an old rowboat, a tiny ship at the least. Other pirates could come across my boat, jump in and kill me in an instant. It’s crazy. I don’t remember the codes remarking any killing. The sea is inspiring me.
A pirate’s way is the only way
To kill another and go for the prey!
To steal the loot and grab the bay
A pirate’s way is the only way.
But what happens when a pirate
Is a man of his word?
And the word for him is never to kill
To meet another pirate, and sail with thee
A friendship that lasts as long as the Sea
This pirate’s way is the only way.
The only way for me.
It’s getting dark, the sea is about to become black with mystery. I won’t be able to write in this until morning. I have 2 bottles left of ink. I remember before that an old Pirate once said that writing wasn’t a trait for a Pirate. I may be a chowderhead (Another word for stupid, also something I’ve learned with writing.) at some points in time, but a Pirate with intelligence and understanding, is a Pirate that will get the loot.
Its short, fuzzy legs
Try to walk across the floor
Slipping and sliding towards me
His long body wiggling
Desperatly trying to reach me
So he can grasp the treat in my palm
His big ears
Larger than his whole head
One of his best features.
My heart stopped beating.
How was I suppose to know
That at that moment
Your heart stopped beating to.
The only difference being
Mine restarted, then you took your last breath.
Mommy tells me your in a better place
But when I look around your not here.
How can you be away from me
But be in a better place?
I want you to be here
Be wrapped up in my arms
To wipe away my tears
And tell me its all right.
I love you
I love you so much
But I guess this time
Love just wasn’t enough.
So don’t cry
Don’t be sad
Your out of pain
What do you think of this poem?
red corners frayed
thin binding falling off
yellow stained pages
thousands of words, vandalized
haughty messily circled
few shiny gold words
With trash through out the gutters and flickering lamps give the only light
People with hoods lie in the dark with angry faces, while holes in the houses let out small sounds of babies crying
The flashing lights of the police car stop where the hooded people stand, they run fast through the darkness of the houses.
and off she goes.
Flapping her wings
with a breeze in her nose
Sadness I feel
Because I want her by me.
because she is free.
hopping from flower to flower.
Not looking back
as I get sadder and sadder.
Come back to me
my beautiful butterfly.
You are unique and exotic
and I tell you all the time.
Hold on to me
as the wind gently goes.
Hold on tighter
as the gale violently blows.
December 22, 2010
Was worse than the belt.
As my body fell,
There was no way to tell.
As the blood came down,
My lips held a frown.
Pain held inside me,
Please just let me be.
A poem I wrote a few days ago when we first started the Poetry unit. Not a happy poem though. What do you think?
Slithering, slimy, sneaky, and cold
he moves in the shadows; unseen.
Clever and cunning
he knows what he wants and how to get it.
Scales slide across the smooth ground
invisible until he shows himself.
Cold and cruel are the means to an end
he conceals his motives from all.
He plays on your fear and hope
hissing in your ear ever so softly.
Yellow eyes, green skin, and porcelin fangs
hypnotize you into his plans.
Once in his trap there's no escape
words hiss out as he delivers a strike.
enjoying a rutabaga,
when suddenly I realize, I don't want to stay.
I go to leave, I grab my rucksack,
with my mongoose bike and rutabagas,
there's no need to come back.
My dear Lola, or Al's clubhouse as Greene has said,
she's calling my name,
I'm gone, to paint this town red.
Any suggestions to make it better?
December 3, 2010
four hours today. He sat in his car, binoculars in one hand, and a tape recorder in the
other. He clicked the record button.
“This is C.P. I’m waitin’ outside the Hills Salon, watching the subject. She seems to
be in for a haircut and a perm. I think she will be heading to either her husband’s
house, or to get her son,” he said calmly as he talked into the tape recorder. He was
now working overtime to help out an old friend who was looking for his son, who he
was trying to get custody of. He hated to get involved with the marital crap, but when
it involved a kid, he felt the need to. He tried to think it was the good guy in him that
made him take those kinds of cases, but he knew the real reason why. He knew that if
he could reunite a child with his parent, then he wouldn’t seem as bad as a father
himself. But no matter how many cases he accomplished, he would still be a dead
beat dad after they were done. The high only lasted for a few hours, and then he
would start to think about Meredith. He hated to think about her now while on the
job, but she kept flooding his brain. Meredith, his beautiful ten-year-old he hasn’t
seen for longer than an hour at a time in her life. She was his, but not his. Another
man had entered her life when he left it. As he walked down the steps, knowing he
would be losing his place in her life forever, it bothered him. He was fighting the urge
to run back in, scoop her up, and kiss every single one of her tiny baby fingers. He
wanted to kiss her milky cheeks, and feel her heartbeat on his chest. But instead, he
kept walking. Charles knew it was wrong, but at the time it just was right. He
couldn’t provide for her while he was driving around town, hiding and stalking
people for hours at a time. Charles couldn’t be there to change her diapers, or wake
up with her. He had to turn over tapes, and sleep in his car. He had pictures, but not
much. It was just a reminder of what he could have had. And as she grew up, losing
her dimples, and blonde curls, he saw her less. But every year he never forgot to send
her a birthday card with a wrinkled ten in it. Charles stared sadly out of the car
window and breathed heavily. He had no idea why he was searching for someone
else’s child when he couldn’t even find out have to salvage his own relationship.
Charles put his Volvo in reverse and drove away from the salon. He would
get back to his subject sometime today, but for now, it could wait. And besides, she
wouldn’t be going anywhere in a hurry; she was a large, slow-moving woman. He
drove down I-90 imagining what he would say. I’m your dad. Hey there sweetheart,
remember me? I’m sorry… I should have called. Nothing seemed to fit. Beads of
sweat were pouring off his face as he gripped the steering wheel. Charles glanced
around, and loosened his tie.
”I should turn around,” he said out loud.
“Damn it! Don’t be a chicken! This is your daughter, not the army you’re facing!” He
screamed at himself. But as Charles thought about it, it felt like he was entering a new
dimension, ready to fight a war.
He made a sharp turn into a gas station, hoping to buy sometime. He sat in the car
and pulled out a twenty from his wallet, handing it to the black man at his
window. The man walked back into the store, and soon came out.
“What type of gas would you like sir?” The gentleman asked. Charles looked at
the man’s wrinkled face.
“Uh put in regular please.” The man nodded and started to pump. From inside the
car, Charles was relaxing. When the time came, everything would work out-he
hoped. A light tap made him turn his head.
“It’s done,” the black gentleman said. Charles looked at him confused and got out
of the car.
“But that was what, five gallons?” he asked.
“Sir your car was already very full when I started,” the man told him. Charles
nodded and ran a hand through his hair.
“Well can you wash my windows please?” he asked. The man nodded. Charles sat
back into his car.
“You seem troubled,” the man said. Charles looked at him sheepishly.
“Yeah, sorta,” he admitted.
“You are stalling something. I can tell.” The man smiled at him as he washed.
Charles stayed silent.
“You shouldn’t be afraid. Whatever it is, it will turn out alright.”
“How do you know about my problems? I’m pretty sure this is nothing you’ve
ever had to deal with.”
The man whistled and went around the side of the car. Charles watched him
“Everybody has problems. I know I do. But I’m not trying to get into
your business, I’m just saying you seem worried,” the man said. He came
around and stood near Charles.
“All set sir.” Charles reached into his pocket and offered him a five.
“I can’t accept it,” the man refused. Charles slowly put the
money back into his pocket. The old man saluted him.
“Go to her, she’ll understand,” he said. Charles smiled puzzled, as he pulled out
of the gas station.
ok yall, im curious if you feel a strong emotion when reading this. does the ending make you think he will go see his daughter, or is it not enough information.....
November 3, 2010
Mr. Greene Greene walks around in his khaki and vest. His vest conceals his poorly pressed shirt. His fingers are embellished by rings. His attire seems formal with a tie and button-up shirt, but at the same time looks casual with his vest and khaki pants. His hair is groomed, but at the looks unruly. He has a low voice, yet it is assertive and confident. Mr. Greene is full of contradictions.
The room is warm with many computers and many bodies emitting heat. The room is lit by fluorescent light. The ground is covered with cheap vinyl flooring. In front each computers sits a comfortable rolly chair. Which can be wrongly used as transportation around the room. The white austere wall is adorned with quotes and posters. There is a perpetual hum of computers. The posterior wall divides the other room with windows and occasionally marketing students creepily peer into our room; mocking our inferior technology.
October 31, 2010
“Everything is according to plan.” The King told the High-War council. On the High-War council there were the leaders of each type of force in Ardrounge, The High Paladin, Royal Guard, Knights, and Rangers.
“When the boy, Jaraiz, is successful he will be arrested then left to die in the dungons of West Ardrounge.”
“Sir, my knights will arrest him the moment he re-enters the city.”
“No!” The King barked, “He is a smart one… if we try anything like that he will most surely escape…”
“So what do you suggest sir? Throw a bag over his head when he’s not looking or something?” The High Ranger said, and everyone laughed. “Or shall my team fill him to the brim with bolts and arrows.” He smirked as he said this.
“Hmm, we may have something here… but I’m afraid that might not work either even…”
“Why not sir? My team and I are excellent shots; we surely wouldn’t miss this… peasant.”
“Yeah, why can’t the rangers just take him down? They’re the best shots in the land.” The Paladin spoke up.
“Because,” The King started “If by some amazing stroke of luck by Jaraiz, if the rangers shoot him, they just might miss him, it’s been known to happen. And also, if anyone sees” The King couldn’t stop the sarcastic, ‘you moron’ from coming out in how he said this “it would be the end of my rule!”
After hours of pondering, The King and his Council were in unity over the plan they’d thought up.
“Very well. We shall allow him in, to enter the castle, then up to my chamber. Then you” The King turns to the Paladin “you will arrest him, and take him outside where you,” He turns to the Knight “you will accompany the paladins with the prisoner to the jail house in West Ardrounge,” The King turns to the Archer “covered by your archers along the way, and suppressed once he reaches the cell, by your archers in towers, and your knights at close quarters. If anyone asks, he has become an enemy to the state, and is under arrest for crimes of treason.”
“Yes sir!” The Council responded in unison.
“Dismissed, and get to it.”
“Will do sir”
The King decided that now would be a good time to go back to his chamber, have a bottle of wine, and pass out on his bed for the night. As the King walked into the chamber, his door which he had left open, closed by its self. In both shock and utter surpisment, The King turned around to face the darkly dressed man, standing next to the door, a Knife in his hand, a dagger, who started to walk towards the King.
As the stranger approached, the King realized he wasn’t a threat after all. In fact, he was quite the contrary.
“Ah my good friend, how good it is to see you again! You gave me quite the start there, though I suppose you aren’t known for your subtleness.” The King said chuckling.
“Ah, couldn’t be more right as usual” The stranger sheathed his dagger. “I must apologize for the heart attack I have given you.”
“Quite, anyways how did you… never mind, the reason I called you is tha…”
“You want someone killed, and you thought of me to do it, oh how sweet you are! Who shall my target be this time?” the assassin said
“Well if you would let me finish…” the King tried to keep the anger out of his voice “The reason I called you here is that I need you to spy on a boy for me, report back how, and what he is doing.”
“Ah friend, I might want to go call the doctor for a house call, you are not well”
“Would you st…” The King tried to speak
“I mean to want to start following boys around, little boys I take it? Or is this a grown version of a boy, a man?”
“That is quite enoug…” The King was trying to interrupt him but he kept talking anyways.
“So you want me to be your eyes while you use your power for sex with a little child, I must admit myself shocked to hear you want to do something this low, I mean honestly.”
The King as fed up, he grabbed his sword and charged at the assassin, he swung but the assassin whirled around and stopped the swords blade before it his him with his dagger, then pulled a second dagger and put it to the King’s thought.
“Now now now, you know better than to try me like this, you’ve become rusty at that my old friend.”
“Would you shut up!” The King hollered.
“Cool down man it was just a joke, so, who am I following, and where can I find him?”
“Jaraiz Leaden. He’s a guy whom undertook my mission for me, the conquest. I need to know how he is doing, and what he is doing. Does this fit with your approval?” The King was being sarcastic.
“Hmm, well I might have to give this one some thought it really seems difficult, I mean following this boy, leading thousands of troops, all without being seen, I don’t know if I can pull this one off…” this time it was the assassin’s turn to be sarcastic.
“You dare use that attitude with me? The King?”
“Dear Guthix cool down Jim, it’s just a joke, remember? A Ha-Ha?”
“Never call me Jim again!” The King was outraged and screaming.
“Ah, you’ve changed my old friend, no wonder you were coming here to drown yourself in wine and pass out.”
“How in Zamorak’s name did you kno… you know what, never mind, I should know that blasted answer.”
“Ok so where will I find this guy?”
The King turned to the map and pointed at 2 points, “he should be in one of these two spots… I’m not sure which however, but I’m sure if you lo…” The King turned around and realized he was talking to air. “Damn, he’s good I need to admit… Oh well, it’s why I pay him so much, but that sarcasm. I might want to think of a pay cut for him… meh, oh well.” The King thought to himself. The King went through with his plan for the night, he was going to be glad he did too, the next few years would be a pain in the ass for him.
October 30, 2010
Little white flakes fluttered down from above,
Landing on my pink tongue,
Where it quickly evaporated.
It fell all around me,
Coating the earth in a white blanket.
My face was beat red,
Frozen from the cold.
The snow worked it's way into my boots,
Melting into small puddles.
My feet went numb,
As they squashed around in the snow.
The white flakes fell heavier now,
The snow on the ground rising higher,
Making it apparent that in just a few hours,
We were going to be buried in snow…
October 29, 2010
In my AP Art class, we did an exercise that involved writing a line of poetry and then having our neighbor write the next. We were only allowed to see one line before the line we were writing. It was a lot of fun, and I think it came out wonderful. Let me know what you think about it!
The lightning bugs glowed like the moon reflecting off of the ocean,
Burning brighter than the sun, yet as soft as a candle,
A truth in all lies, manipulating the convinced,
Not knowing what is coming next,
A meteor about to crash down,
Star dust glittering in the grass,
Like diamonds that fell from the heavens,
Like a song written to the sound of your eyes,
With the beat going along with the rythm of your heart,
As loud and thunderous as mighty drums,
The world goes silent once again.
This was about the last photo taken before the end of the world, and it's supposed to be a description of an artifact in a museum from the new world.
The next morning I woke up with a pounding headache. When I looked next to me there was no one there, just a space that hadn't been slept in. I got up, slipped my slippers on and walked to the bathroom. I splashed water on my face then looked in the mirror, but the reflection wasn’t the same today, it was almost like I was looking at a completely different person. I took one last look when I remember what had happened last night, I can’t believe that I got so mad over something so stupid, and it resulted in me murdering the person I once loved. The guilt was unbearable. Every time I looked at myself I could only see a murderer. I was no longer Lyllian Taylor. I was the girl who murdered her husband because he didn’t agree with the choice I made, what kind of person had I become?
Does this make you want to read more? Is it interesting enough?
Little Miss What’s Her Face gets it all. Olivia, little miss princess has her ways. Her outside complex is a small figure, long blonde hair, big brown eyes. Her smiles can comfort the deepest depression in the world, yet her mind doesn’t care. Her goofy, hyper personality can justify you to the same. But you are warned, she may become a hassle. You might believe that she’s a sweet little angel, but deep down inside; lives the daughter of the Devil. Her thoughts are so cruel, you wouldn’t believe your ears if you heard her. She tries her best to sabotage me, finding every little way to hurt me. Soon enough, she will find a way to hurt me deep inside, leaving a mark from the god of hell, never to go away. Yet the parents of mine, doesn’t understand this. They understand she isn’t “perfect” but they say no one is. “Oh, just do this and do that. Help this young child. She has no one, it would mean a lot to us if you do.” Blah, blah, blah is what I hear from them.
The fire intensifies. The yells, the screams, the cries, falls in deeper than before. My dreams are in the depths of hell, her body surrounded by dark flames, reds, blacks, color of blood. Blood drips from her face. “Even in your dreams, I will hurt you. I know you at your weakest. You will never win. You will lose, fall on you knees and cry. No one will hear you, care for you. If you let me, I will make this quick, if not, you will die in pain slowly.”
What do you think of this story? What thoughts pop in your head when you read this? What could i do to make this part better?
This is something I wrote in a writing exercise, describing the final seconds of life after being decapitated. Does it describe what might happen during death? What could I add to make it a little more dramatic?
My vision went blurry as I walked into the room. Everything was fuzzy but i could make out a round table in the center of the room. There were 8 figures seated around the table. I made my way to what looked like a unused seat. I sat down at the open seat at the front of the rectangular table and tried to get a clear view of the faces before me.
My vision got a little bit blurrier. Soon, all I saw were the figures, the table and a white background. I struggled to see better but to no avail. The figures and the table melded into the white background. Now, the whole room was enveloped in white.
I picked up my pencil and put it to the white canvas. My pencil scribbled acroos the canvas and images started to form. When I was finally completed, I took a step back to behold my creation, a painting of 8 men seated around a table.
Dawn creeps upon the Forest of Darkness as the moon sets beyond the trees and the sun raises among the horizon. Screams of human-like beings tear through the forest scattering the birds into flight. A man of blond hair and odd tan eyes holds a stake in one hand and the beheaded head of a woman. He throws the head into the light of day and instantly it began to burn. A shrill scream comes from behind him as a woman hurls herself from the sunlight at him
As if it were as simple as breathing, the man turned around and thrust the stake through her chest. With a gargling sound, she fell to the ground of the wooden cabin and sliced off the head of a man behind him. When he first arrived, there were twenty to get rid of. Now only four remained. With a grin the man continued his slaughter until the last “living” being dropped dead.
“One by one i will free this world.” He said, a gleam in his eye. “From the rule evil of the nocturnal beasts doomed to a life of darkness. Vampires and werewolves alike, i will kill them all.” From that moment, his vow rang true and he continued his hunt for the immortal beasts. He searched long and hard for the next target his next prey.
The Forest of Darkness was once a calm place where chatter of birds and barks of wild dogs filled the forest. Now everything was burned red as the man started his hunt. Wolves launched themselves in the light of the moon as the man pointed silver loaded guns at each body. A silver tipped stake lay await in his palm as he shot each wolf down.
As a young she-wolf ran up to the man, he turned on her and stabbed the stake into her back. A cry of pain thundered from her jaws and she fell to the ground, unmoving. The man shot the last wolf dead and grinned. Twenty-five to none. Every last one dead. Finally content with his killing, the man left the Forest of Darkness.
in pure daylight
i removed the lens
to see the dark of night
this burial place
in a land of wonder
was covered in fog
and a distant thunder
behind each stone
was a zombie, all dead
some wore shoes
a few without heads
i couldn't tell
should i be frightened?
but as they inched closer
so did the lightning
i had nowhere to run
each one a killer
but i sighed in relief
when the theme song was "Thriller"
What moods is this giving off? Does it potray the true life of a twinkie?
It was freezing outside and all she had on was her blue pajamas, her gray sweatshirt, and the necklace her grandma had given her when she died. She took her light brown hair out of its pony tail and soon felt reassured by its soft strawberry sent. Her necklace is an oval shaped red stone with a gold chain. She never took it off except for when she took a shower and even then she didn’t feel like herself without it on. Her grandma had died four years ago and Eliza had felt a new part of herself open up when she put the inherited necklace on.
This is the beginning of one of my second short story. Any feedback would help.
They blow softly now,
Leaving peace with this place.
Rays of sun shine down,
Casting beauty for thee.
The beating of wings,
Heard softly here.
A hummingbird flickers near.
The colors attracting.
The secrets perfuming.
A simple eye cannot contain.
The ear, twice, cannot only hear.
This beauty is before one.
It cannot be captured,
And it cannot live forever.
As quick as the beating wings,
It will cease to exist.
The wings stop beating,
The hummingbird is gone.
And scents fading now.
The season is changing.
Beauty is hidden,
But it will return in time,
For nothing is ever truly gone.
Kept in memory,
One can't hold the beauty,
But they can keep the image for peace.
The winds of time,
They blow softly now,
Leaving solace with this place.
This is a piece I wrote as a writing exercise after looking at a photo. What feeling do you get when reading this?
The waves continued to crash against the peninsula while some just flowed up to the beach before retreating back to the ocean. People went on playing in the surf while some simply laid on the beach tanning. The random Coca-Cola sign at the end on the peninsula made beach goers thirsty. It was calm and sunny. A perfect day.
But suddenly, something on the horizon disturbed the serene setting. A wave over 100 feet high was heading towards shore. Left and right beach goers ran inland, trying to outrun the massive tsunami. It took less than 30 seconds before the wave reached the shore.
Palm trees were ripped from the ground and buildings were either damaged or leveled completely. People disappeared as the wave caught up with them. The only noise that could be heard was the rush of water and the wave crashing against buildings and the ground. Screams were drowned out by the gargantuan wall of water.
Within a matter of minutes, the tropical paradise had been reduced to a watery graveyard.
October 28, 2010
Joshua is a man around thirty-five years of age, shopping in Forever 21 trying to find something for his girlfriend Sylvia, to wear on their date tonight. It’s a special date because they have been together for 21 weeks, which is why he is shopping at Forever 21. He searches around the store for something but he comes up empty handed. In desperation he is about to leave the store and look somewhere else when he sees it. It is the most beautiful mannequin that Joshua has even seen. He has to take it home and make her his wife. Joshua walks up to an employee to see if he can buy her and take her home with him.
“Excuse me ma’am, how much is this mannequin,” Joshua inquired.
“I’m sorry sir but it’s not for sale,” the sales associate replied.
“I will pay you three hundred dollars for that mannequin.”
“Let me go get the manager to see if you could possibly buy the mannequin.
The sales associate walks around the store looking for the manager. She finally finds the manager ringing up a customer.
“Excuse me Celia but I have a customer here who wants to buy a mannequin. He’s willing to pay three hundred for it,” said the sales associate.
“Tell him he can buy it for three hundred and fifty dollars,” replied Celia while trying to ring up another customer.
The sales associate walks back to Joshua and tells him the good news, “good news the manager said you can buy it but she’s looking for a higher price than what you said before.”
“How much for the mannequin?” Joshua asked.
“Three hundred and fifty dollars.”
“I’ll take it. I’ll pay cash for it,” Joshua hands the sales associate three hundred and fifty dollars in cash. He grabs the mannequin and walks out of the store. “Thank you so much for letting me buy the mannequin.”
October 24, 2010
"Love is so strange a feeling, so open, so free. It's everywhere, anywhere, countries, states, cities, towns, neighborhoods, schools, rooms, two people. Love is everything all the time."
"there is a lot of things I regret in my life, but meeting you is not one of them, nor is the fact I can now proudly call you my girlfriend."
“You’ve got mail!” sounded through the dark office of an anxious 27 year old man named Jimmy, he rushes towards the computer, and triple clicks the e-mail he has just received and it pops open instantly. “I hate the taste of liver; we should just go to a diner or something. I’m, so happy I have finally found someone… like me.” Jimmy was e-mailing a new lady friend named Shelia, a pen-pal from a couple towns over that he met on a special blog. Jimmy has had trouble dating before in the past due to uncontrolled conditions and is happy to find someone that he has a lot in common with. Jimmy replies quickly stating he is more than ok with going to a diner and he will meet her at the Fog Diner around 6 o’clock.
A couple hours later Jimmy was driving to the Fog Diner he had been thinking about the date all day. He was nervous now because he could not remember the last time he had been on a real date with a girl.
When Jimmy arrived at the diner he left his car and walked towards the entrance to the diner to wait for Shelia. 7 minutes later Shelia showed up in her Red Hyundai, parked and approached Jimmy. Jimmy was very excited to see Shelia was a beautiful tall strawberry blonde woman with dazzling features. They greeted each other with great excitement and walked into the restaurant. Once they were in the restaurant and settled down the two conversed about their days for a brief moment and then the waiter approached their table. They both ordered red wine and a shared a side of bread sticks for the appetizer, for the meals Jimmy ordered a double big-boi bacon burger, and Shelia ordered a buffalo hot-shit chicken salad. Jimmy was in no mood to save his appetite and chowed down on the small order of breadsticks. They both made small talk for the beginning of their night not really knowing much to say until finally their meals arrived. “I love this diner” Shelia said as the waiter placed a steaming plate in front of her. “Agreed! Best diner around in my opinion” Jimmy replied. They both indulged into their meals with no hesitation. After about 15 minutes it was around 7 o’clock now. “So, it is almost time now Shelia” Jimmy said suddenly. “Yes, I know I didn’t want to bring it up yet.. I am excited for what is to come.” She replied. “Yes I am very happy I have found someone so similar to me, especially such a beautiful woman like you.” They smiled at each other and then Jimmy whispered “you said a fox right?”
When they were both done dinner around 7:30 Jimmy immediately put one finger up in the air for the check. The waiter crept over and placed the leather case onto the table and Jimmy placed a $50 dollar bill in the case without hesitation. “We must get going now we have little time.”
Surrounding the Fog diner was a large river named the fog river, that a narrow path ran along and every morning fog would rise from the river giving the river and the diner the name their names. When Jimmy and Shelia exited the restaurant they headed over to the path that the fog river ran along and they began heading down the path. It was a cool summer night and it was now around 8 o’clock as the two characters were walking down the path silently. “I am nervous for what is about to come” Shelia said quietly. “Don’t be nervous Shelia, we have something special within us just be happy we have each other now. Shelia smiled as they continued walking.
The two came to a river bank as the sun was finally about to set. “So I guess this is it now, are you ready?” said Jimmy. “Well I don’t really have a choice now do I?” she replied. “I guess not” he said chuckling.
As the sun went down a very mystical thing occurred. Shelia and Jimmy both were Animagi’s, this is a condition when a individual turns into an animal as the sun sets. Shelia was a fox, and Jimmy was a spider monkey. As the sun set on the two individuals they sat beside each other knowing the extreme and rare occurrence that was about to happen. Screeches and howls could be heard for miles away as the two half animal half human’s turned into their primal selves.
All went silent for a brief moment when Shelia and Jimmy were finally transformed until they both woke. Jimmy a black spider monkey had large beady eyes with a thick coat of fur, while Shelia was almost as beautiful as before, a red fox as sleek as when the fog river is frozen.
After the transformation was complete all was quiet. Jimmy crawled over towards Shelia and gently moved in for the kiss.
October 23, 2010
October 22, 2010
When you hear the sounds of the waves in the ocean, you can tell the world is calling to you. The waves lap agasint the earth, cleansing it. The sounds of the fire crackle and spit. Heating th air with it's red and orange flames. The life of the erath. The live of every living thing. The sound of the fire and the waves colide and sing the song together. The rusting of the wind can be heard, flutter and praying with the waves of fire. A long loud sound completes the music. It's voice flows like the water but dances like the wind. It's soft and gentil but stong and forcfull like the fire. The oice sings along with the elements. Their watcher: the moon. The voice shines out and mingles with forever grace. As smooth water. As playfull as wind. As strong as fire. As peacefull as the moon. With the elements, the voice sings. The voice of it's master sings. The wolf sings to her mother moon.
This was something we did as a writing exercise. The task was to talk from the perspective of a snack cake. Can you tell this is a Devil Dog speaking?
There used to be 4 of us. Now, there are only 3. The 4 of us were more than just coworkers, we were close friends. We all worked in a local restaurant. I was the cashier, Joe was the baker, Jean was the waiter, and Gary owned the place. We each had a job and in we each did it well. The specialty of our little restaurant was our famous grilled cheese sandwich. Our grilled cheese sandwich could brighten anybody's day. We would all love to watch the huge smile that appeared on somebody's face when they bit into our sandwich.
The best part was that each of us played an role in the crafting of the sandwich.Joe would bake the bread, I would add a layer of cheese, Jean would put the sandwich on the grill and Gary would take it out and cut the sandwich. A year ago, old Gary died. All of us were heartbroken. Just recently, we decided to make one of our grilled cheese sandwiches. Joe baked, I added the cheese, Jean grilled, and we al cut the sandwich together. When we bit into our sandwich though,we felt something was missing. The sandwich wasn't making us smile, it was bringing us to tears.
"Go for it, I mean, maybe it could work... A year after you become famous" Sam smirked.
"Oh yes, thank you for the confidence boost love" I laughed off her comment and picked up the guitar. I strummed a simple chord pregression consisting of Am, Dm, and Cadd9.
"You know, a song usually means a little more when there are words" Sam remarked. So I started to sing the first things that popped into my head.
"How can you make it this hard, for my mind to form these words, that can describe, how very, very much I feel, I've tried and tried to get your brown eyes out of my head." I stopped searching for words."So why do I dissapear, it's so unclear... Why do I forget my lines, No trace of me at all." I stopped again and put the guitar down.
"That's it. Really?" Sam asked
"Eh, I'm not feeling it. Too Taylor Swift"