"They Who Dance"

To she who dances in the woods of red,

Her time will pass and you shall pay no mind;

A crown of thorns, a burden on her head.



Her visage, sad, shows that her dreams are dead.

Look further still, walk forest paths that wind;

To she who dances in the woods of red.



At once you see the man whom she shall wed

Dons pure white clothes. Behind a tree, you find

A crown of thorns, a burden on her head.



Dancing over frosty ground, the man does tread

And soon you notice his milk eyes are blind

To she who dances in the woods of red.



The woman falls. If only she had said

How misery accompanies this bind;

A crown of thorns, a burden on her head.



Ground of frozen dirt and leaves becomes her bed.

Scattered grave, she finds the worms in kind

To she who dances in the woods of red,

A crown of thorns, a burden on her head.

J.D. Larsen

Emma Dunne Exercises

Dialog Exercise

"Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey, Are you listening to me? Can't you feel me tap you?" Billy asks, jumping up and down in his seat. "Hellooooooo? Anybody home?"

Mumbled grunts escape the old man's mouth, scowling at the little boy.

"I can't understand you!" the child shouts. "What are you saying? Hey! Wanna see me be like an airplane? That'd be fun!"

"Ehhhh, shut up, would'ya?"

Billy wipes his face. "Eeeeeewwww! Why'd ya do that for? It's  mean to spit on people, ya know." Curiosity shines in the boy's eyes. "Hey? What's with your teeth? Wait, my dad told me you fight bulls. Did ya get them knocked out? Hey! Guess what? I lost a tooth too, do you wanna see? Huh? Do ya, do ya do ya?"

"Well, I got a secret for you, partner," The former cowhand responds, every word sounding like an indistinct mumble.

"Oooo a secret?" Billy asks, leaning into his seat. "I love secrets. Well, except the last one someone told me, it was my dad. He said my mom was a crackhead bitch with no life. I dunno what that means but--"

"Do you wanna hear it or not?"

"Okay, okay, tell me!"

"After my wife died," the cowboy says, grinning so wide, his gums were exposed. "I wouldn't stop yapping and yapping. I talked till the cows came home. Wanna know what happened, young man?"

   "What happened, what happened?" Billy shouts the question, bouncing up and down in his seat. Every three seconds, he inches closer to the toothless cowboy, hands shaking with anticipation.

    "They ripped my teeth out!" The old man jumps up from his seat and opens his mouth, grinning at the little boy.

    An ear-splitting screech erupts from Billy, running away from the cowboy as fast as his little, energy drink filled body can take him.

 Another voice comes from behind the old man.   "C'mon, dad, that's not nice to say for a kid."

   The old man rolls his eyes at the man behind him. "Next time you bring your kid," he warns, shoving an index finger in his son's gut. "Make sure he doesn't drink any of them energy drinks."

Description Exercise

Five feet, nine inches. To the average person, this is not very tall. Compared to buildings, trees, or basketball players, five foot nine is actually quite short. To the tiny three-year old hiding behind her mother's' leg, the height of this man might as well be a skyscraper. Open house occurs twice a semester, and with the work hours of being a doctor taking up this mother's day, she has to take her toddler with her. The three year old peeks her head out at the strange man in front of her mother. His voice booms like claps of thunder, sounding like the giant in nursery rhymes. Cowboy boots stomp around the classroom, making the three-year old clutch onto her mother tighter than ever before. Her eyes grow wide at the size of the teacher's hands compared to her small, pudgy ones. Emotion is not something toddlers pick up, so she can not realize although this man is big and has a voice that booms in her ears like a symphony of drums, he is smiling. A tremendous, deep-voiced, loud stepped, dark clothes wearing, stranger is the only thing in the toddler's line of vision. The sight of this strange, new, individual makes her cry, wails louder than fire alarms going off.

Stav 3 assignments

Dialog "I done killed her" "I've murdered her !"

10 year old 2 bulls

Cowboy widower

Stage guidenscousler office

Charlie a 10 year old at bicentennial elementary school went to see his guidance counselor mr.west

Charlie with a rapid pace said "what's up mr west how you been man, wow real shit hole in here kind of like my room hahahahahahahaha."

Mr. west responded disregarding Charlies remarks" charlie what's wrong with your body it's shaking."

Charlie said " nah man its cool red bull is the best."

Mr west said "sonny" as he took off his cowboy hat "yall cant be drinking that during school mkay."

Charlie said "Shut up you drunken lazy piece of shit move of the couch."

Mr. west" son where did you hear all them vulgarities."

Charlie said" mom said them everyday for 2 years to paps."

Charlie said "man what's good with your teeth."

Again Mr west ignored that he said "sonny if you ever need to talk I'm here for you." and sent him to his classroom.

Bill gates back 20 years walked into the classroom and becomes speechless back when windows 3 was turn of the century he looks at the computer he runs around the room in a circle hands mr Greene a hefty check.He then tears open the mainframe of a computer to look at the coding. He shrieked. He runs out of classroom computer in hand and hops skips and a jump to his time machine. This leads to a time paradox and the earth becomes a black hole.

Mr.greene caught my eyes I trembled  the tall masculine with a  long hair beamed at me I was confused I've never met someone that looks like severus snape. Being from the past this movie was just released. He had  a modern room as only Bill could assume and a cowboy impression because of the boots he was wearing and the plain shirt. Bill noticed Mr. Greens room being large and smelt like old spice cologne.

Andres's home work

Andres Hulfachor

As Louis walked in this classroom his eyes lighted up as he saw the chairs. Now he can be as dirty and smelly as he wants to be without it being too noticeable. Louis the writer he is saw lots of computers to fulfill his passionate love for writing. Louis sat on a chair and looked around the classroom seeing that there were not many athletes so he can't get made fun of for his fake Jordan Jacket and other fake apparel that he has.

Andres Hulfachor

 

The boy said " Where in the hell are all your teeth you fat lard."

The Cowboy in an angry expression and a lispy voice " Who do you think your talking to big fella. Don't think I won't beat the snot out of you."

The boy said in a comical expression " You won't do shit you fat pussy. What are you going to do? Bite me." At this point the man was angry and started to chase after him. 

He started to scream " Get back here boy so I can give you a lesson on how to treat your elders."

The boy came back and said hopping up and down " What's a fat bitch cowgirl like you doing in my hood."

The cowboy said in an angry remark " Stop speaking to me like that you son of a bitch."

The kid yelled " your right my mom is a bitch but she'd beat the shit out of you." Finally the kid ran off into the dark laughing to himself really hard."

 

As I walked into the classroom I saw this wide shouldered 5'9 man with no facial expression on his face. I tried to stay as quiet as I could walking to my seat. He turned and looked at me with an expressionless face with his scruffy goatee. He had long brown hair that almost reached his shoulders. He walked over to me, and I tried to look away and not notice him. He came over and in a deep growl he said I am Mr. R.W.W Greene. Welcome to creative writing. He didn't blink once as he kept looking at me in his expressionless facial expression. I couldn't tell if he was happy or mad. Whichever it was it overwhelmed me. I managed to finish the class and I immediately went to guidance and switched out.

 

Jackie's Writing exercises

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                                                           Excited description exercise

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Skylar sighs and lays back in her chair. finished at last! The numerous hours spent on this piece would all be worth it. She saved her work and a something hit her. She would soon be up there at the front of the room, reading off what she wrote to the class. Everyone's eyes staring at her blankly, their opinions kept to himself for politeness. Skylar's eyes darted across the room at this thought, a desperate to find something that could help her calm down.As hereyes glance around, her eyes find nothing in contrasting enough to draw her attention. Everything in the room seemed to be the same off-white color, except for the board, which had various black, red, and green words she couldn't make much out of. The only thing if interest on row of monitors in the isles in front of her was the people behind them; people who would judge her on what she had wrote sooner or later. Dictionaries lay scattered haphazardly around the room, containing words that would mock her for her stupidity should she open one. Whenever she touched one, she found a word that could of been better suited in her writing than in a dusty old book with thousands of other words. Each time her finger grazed over the cover, she could feel her writing get smaller and smaller, as if just the thought of how little she knew how to write made it shrink with embarrassment. This wasn't helping.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Afraid description exercise

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As she at in the old chair, Skylar's heart sinks into her stomach. She slouched into the cushions, unconsciously making herself smaller. Glancing up, her eyes landed on the teacher in the front of the classroom, typing away at a computer. He was humming, quite loud, to himself. The last bell rang, signaling the start of class, and Skylar ducked her head behind her monitor.

Shutting off music she didn't even realize was playing, the giant look up from his laptop as he got ready.

"Alright, time to start. If you're not here, tell me so i can take attendance."

Silence. No one dared say anything, she sure didn't. This lack of answer seemed to be what he was expecting, and he continued.

"Right, that makes Things easy." He said, typing a little more on his laptop. "Its that time again. You guys have until the clock's big hand reached the 3 to do some writing." he drew out the r in writing, perhaps in a vague attempt to make himself seem less intimidating. If it was, It failed. Everyone started writing as soon as he finished . Some on paper, some on a computer. A very loud keyboard sounded through the air, telling Skylar that someone was using a typewriter.

The teacher walked around the room, the loud thudding of boots sounding as an alarm, telling her when she was safe from his gaze. As he began humming once more, Skylar found it hard to focus on writing anything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dialog exercise

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey, Mister! Hey!" A young boy bounces up to an old man sitting idle on his porch. Everything about the house seemed colorless compared to its surroundings.

The man groans and sits up, the patio bench creaking with the slight motion. "What do you want, boy?" The man seemed to slur his voice, sounding vaguely like the boy's father, and coupled with his southern accent, the young kid had to guess most the words he had said.

"Why's your house all dull and stuff? Don'tcha like color?"

"This Is color, boy, can't ya see the red?" he sneered, and the kid glanced up again at the house. A lifeless red tinted the walls.

"Its not very bright, Oh! Can I color it? Please, Please?" The kid gave a look that seemed more fitting to be on a dog. Years of practice gave him skill enough to play on pity.

However, the man had no pity left, Life had killed any he used to have with his wife. "You can color it when I'm dead. Now leave."

The grim response only made the boy even bouncier than before, and he seemed not to of listened to what the man had just said, "Hey, you like the color blue? My friend says it's his favorite, so I have tons of blue crayons. He also loves the color orange, well then again, he might of meant the fruit, Hey, what's your favorite fruit? I haven't had a lot but mine is-"

"Irrelevant. Would ya just shut up" The man rubbed his temples with one hand, the other clenched into a fist. Oddly enough, the boy flinch

She walks into the class, full of gray, uenthusiastic students while she displayed the complete opposite, stopping to admire every little thing in the room. First she comes across the shelves upon shelves of typewriters, enough to supply a 1950's publishing company. She knows she'll get annoyed glances from her fellow students if she decides to use the loud, clicky writing tools, but it's not like she has much in common with them to begin with. Besides, she didn't exactly join the class for the students, the only thing they supplied her was that beutiful clickity clack of their creative processes at work. She finds a seat without a computer, wanting to at least have an excuse for using the ancient technology other than that she just wanted to. Sitting in the chair she cringes, knowing the chairs were probably older than her, maybe they even housed a now dead person or two. She pulls out her pocket notebook and begins to write down the idea of this phantom sitter, always finding such ideas more comforting when they can be ripped off and thrown away. She finishes the description, whom turned out to be an aspiring soldier who simply took the class because he had to, but turned out loving it, using as a way to cope during the war. She had been planning on throwing away the idea of the phantom sitter as a form of self-therapy, but now she feels honored to sit where this war veteran once did, the warmth of the seat now feeling like encouragement from a past soul. She looked around from the phantom seat, her thoughts of a dead soldier becoming more and more realistic in her mind as she inspected the numerous examples of aging, the water damage, the yellowed walls, and of course the phantoms chair.

She decides this phantom sitter needs a face to connect with, wouldn't be such a demanding order of character design, simply a young aspiring military officer. First a strong, yet soft face, given he knows of war but not in grim detail. A stron-

The door of the classroom slams shut, in front of it now standing the teacher.

She inspects her mentor for the next six months, noting how militant he looks himself, much like the soldier he wrote of. Then again, her teacher only lgave that impression clothing wise, his hair giving the opposite impression, being wild and unkempt. He walked over to his podium and stood high over her and the rest of the students, giving full view of a coffee stain on the center of his shirt.

"Before you say it, yeah I got coffee on my shirt" He said "It's bound to happen when you're a writer, lot of coffee"

She shaking her head in eager agreement, having had this exact experience time and time again. He takes notice to the little outburst with a chuckle, she buries herself back in her seat in mild embarrassment. He didn't take notice to that, instead went straight into his teaching routine, a lot more fluid and improvised than she was used to.

"My name's Mr. Greene, but you may, though I doubt, know me as R.W.W. Greene" He said, sending schockwaves through the girl. He continued to speak, but the words no longer got to her, she mindlessly fishes through her bag in utter fear. She pulls a weathered book from her bag, worn from mulitple reads, but despite that the front still housed a legible "R.W.W. Greene". She froze up, was she supposed to happy to have her favorite writer as her teacher? Whatever she was supposed to feel, she knew she plain felt anything but. It sure didn't help when he called out her name.

"Abigail Curtis?" He said, forcing Abigails heart skip a beat. She attempted to hide the book as fast as possible.

"You alright? I'm not gonna crucify you for reading or anything, but maybe do this not during a lesson? And from the looks of it you've gone through it enough to recite it" He said, not entirely being wrong.

"Oh, of course, sorry" She said, quickly stuffing the book back inside.

"Oh it's fine, what is it you're reading anyway?" He said. She froze once again, almost having put the book away. Sh looks back up to meet his eyes, while thier was no intensity in them or the question, she couldn't help but feel intimidated.

dialog & description exercises from blue

Shania's revision

Revised: The Mini Mart

"Hey watch where you're walking old man!"

"Pardon me young fellow but your parents should teach you some manners."

"Oh shut up gimpy! My parent aren't around."

They both proceed out of the mini mart.

               "You've really got a mouth on you boy!"

               "At least I have teeth."

               "You listen here boy, I lost these teeth fighting for your safety and I lost my wife while doing it so I'll be damned if you think I'm going to sit here and take that type of disrespect from a stray!"

               "I'm sorry sir."

Revised: Mr. Greene impression

               I clench my books tight in one hand and hesitate to open the door with the other. I take a deep breathe and walk in the coffee scented room. Everyone turns around to see the new girl. My neck feels like fire and my palms begin to sweat.

               "Mr. Greene." One student breaks the silence.

A tall man standing at the white board turns to see what interrupted his lesson.

"Can I help you?" He said.

I felt a lump in my throat and attempted to clear it before I could stutter "I'm Alex."

My stomach feels uneasy as he begins to walk towards me. He placed his left hand on my shoulder firmly. I can feel his ring digging into my collarbone as he introduces me as the new girl, though i had just told him my name.

"Are you going to sit?" He said

I walked to my seat like a dog with his tail between his legs.

Revised: Observations of the room and Mr. Greene

• A clock faster than the others

• A slight breeze with no source

• Smudges on the board

• Shuffling of chairs and feet

• Typing

• Dust in between the old keys

• Posters

• Staplers everywhere

• Unnecessary amount of sweaters laying around

• Antonio's pen tapping

• Antonia talking loudly about Taylor Swift Lyrics

• Door slightly open

• Monitors making quiet noise

• Scuffs on the dirty floor tiles

Mr. Greene

• Shoulder length hair

• Smells like coffee

• Green button up long sleeve shirts

• Blue jeans

• Tall; about 5'8 5'9

• Wears pens in the pocket of his shirts

• Male

• Cowboy boots

• Mustache, Go-T, and beard

• Wedding ring

• Watch on left wrist

• Blue eyes

• Energetic

Description of room from Mr. Greenes perspective:

He walked into a room at the end of the hall, the smell of dust and spilt coffee in the air.  The seats in front of the computers seen worn, but he didn't want to use the technology yet. He saw typewriters of various shapes and sizes.  He strolled over to the shelves, exploring each one, hoping to learn the stories they held.  Some could be stained by cigarette or could have broken keys.  The whiteboard in front had writing on it, tickling his mind with the endless possibilities as to why it's there.

Dialogue Exercise:

A small child emerges from a dark alleyway, wiping liquid from his face.  He calls for a taxi at the same as an older gentleman did.  The yellow car pulled over.

"Excuse me sir, want to share this cab?  I really need a ride." said Ben

In a heavy, sloppy Southern accent, "Sure thing!  Hop on in!" said Butch

They both get in, with Ben starting the conversation.

"Sir!  You sound funny!  What's with the voice?" said Ben, waiting for a reponse.

"I got no teeth!  See here sonny?" said Butch

"Gross!  What's with the hat?"

"I wear it because I'm a cowboy.  Where are your manners?  Didn't your parents teach you them?"

"They didn't, they're splitting up so I don't listen to them anymore.  They say to go to bed, so I stay up.  They say to not have energy drinks, but I did that today too!  Now I'm going to the airport to escape!"  Explained Ben, now out of breath from a continuous stream of words.

"That's quite a story!  I'm going home, the wife passed recently.  Went here to see my family, but now I have to face my own demons."

Description of Mr. Greene from Mr. Greenes  perspective:

His voice was booming, startling at first when you don't know about it.  However loud he is, it's quite soothing, smooth like butter.  His long hair and goatee with traces of five o'clock shadow are comparable to a modern day Jesus.  An olive green shirt and dark jeans, with a pair of brown leather boots slapping the ground gives you a sense of anxiety.  His eyes are blue with oceans of experience behind them, giving me a sense of awe.  The presence of this man made me take a step back, wary to engage in a conversation with him.     

Kayla Woodie's B2 assignment

Dialogue

"OH! Sorry mister cowboy man!"

"It's ok little man, just be more careful."

"You talk funny. That cowboy hat real?"

"Quit jumpin kid. No siree, my wife made that thing 20 some odd years ago."

"Wow! Wish momma would do something like that for pa, or for me! Your wife, she pretty?"

"Little man, she done was the fairest lass in all the cornfields…"

"Damn it don't you cry! You old and stuff!"

"Yes, yes son I am."

"Huh, are you my pa??"

"No, I don't got no children anymore."

"Oh. Sorry mister cowboy! I won't ever bump into you no more!"

"Thank you, boy."

Description

The class brings a breeze of cold air as I enter. My backpack hangs heavy in this new place. The room was white, but now is yellowed with decay and wear. The tables are filled with the only modern thing- glowing desktop computers, though half of them are broken, and greasy roller seats straight from the seventies are parked at each, but they looked comfortable enough. Clutters of art and papers and posters decorate the wall. In the back, closed blinds glow concealing the outdoor light. Shelves hold typewriters- the kind I've only seen in movies- in dozens of worn colors. People sitting are clicking and tapping away at them or away at the active computers, without noticing me, all writing out things in big chunks. A few are quietly chatting, but most were listening only to their earbuds. The teacher wanders around the room with heavy feet, talking about how he smelled like coffee. And he does. I take a seat, and it seems like it's going to be a pretty cool class.

Thanks Mr. Greene

-Kayla

Kaylee Vicente

Kaylee Vicente

2/14/18

Block 2

Mr. Greene

The cool air couldn't subside the beads of sweat trickling down Carl's forehead. He sat in the far back row, distancing himself from the others, his eyes averted upwards quickly finding the comforting water stain on the ceiling. He studied the dark rimmed blob and watched the picture change into different shapes with the help of his imagination. The sound of the final bell rung, pulling Carl out of his trance. Swiftly he looked away from the ceiling only to greeted with blue eyes searching for his. Without haste Carl lowered his head and shifted his gaze to his hands that found comfort in between his thighs. "Just ignore him", he told himself. It'd be awfully hard to do so considering Carl was achieving for honor roll this year. The blue eyed man began to speak, his deep voice echoed off the walls and retreated back to Carl. Goosebumps scattered across his body when the man made a sadistic joke about about death, trickery. Finally the voice was replaced silent and was replaced with the sound of fingertips aggressively typing away. With shaky hands Carl slowly unzipped his bag, flinching at the sound it made. His desperate eyes looked up make sure he didn't draw unnecessary attention to himself but his fellow peers were hypnotized  into their screens. Satisfied no one noticed he pulled out his notebook and began writing his story about a crazed man with hard blue eyes.

He was so lost in his writing he hardly noticed the footsteps approaching him, until they came closer to him. His heart felt like it ceased to beat when the steps came to an abrupt stop. Out of the corner of Carl's eye he could see the worn cowboy boots close to his seat. Without warning the owner of the boots squatted down to his level causing Carl to move all attention to his messy writing. The man was so close Carl could feel his hot breath burning the hairs on his arm. The mixture of moist, nervous sweat and a shaking hand resulted in the pencil falling right out of the boy's clutch. "If you want," the dark voice from earlier whispered by his side "You can use my computer. Your hand looks a bit tired." He finished. Carl could feel those blue eyes piercing his hand and he quickly shoved both hands back into the comfort of his thighs. Hesitantly Carl turned his head and looked at the ends of the man's hair thanking any God there was for the length of it. "M-M.. No thank you." His weary voice stuttered out, finally releasing the breath that almost made him blue. The man nodded and walked away, Carl's heart re started beating faster than ever. He had done it, he survived Mr. Greene.

Descriptions & Dialogue

Description one:

I run into my new classroom, nearly colliding with the desks situated just in front of the doorway. Rows of them line the room, each with numerous swivel chairs that I already know will be the most comfortable chairs in the building. Every second chair is accompanied by a computer, each one worn out from being used for so long, which must mean they're trustworthy. It's much like the tv in the front of the room with a line of paper covering the bottom. It must be a special television to have been kept around for so long. The writing on the not-so-white whiteboard, all in different colors and handwriting, must be so important to someone, even if it just looks like useless scribbles to me. Everything is so meaningful here. I can't wait to spend the next semester here!

Description two:

I stared up at the man invading my home. I want to fight him off, but he's so much bigger than me. What could one lonely mouse do to a human like this? Everything about him is dangerous. He could squish me with those cowboy boots and not even notice. His hair is long enough to wrap around my neck at least three times. He could easily crush me in his giant hands. What if he locked me in his left pocket with the two different colored pens? He could click them and stab me. One thing is for sure: this large, flannel wearing human is too much for me. I better just hide in my corner until he goes away.

Dialogue:

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!" Benny says, running around the room. He approaches the only man standing nearby, desperate for social interaction. "Hey! Can I have your hat? I want your hat!"

"No."

"But I want your hat!" Benny whines

The man sighs. "Fine, but give it back later."

Benny cocks his head in confusion. "What happened to your mouth?"

"Bar fight."

"Ooh, I wanna see a bar fight!" Benny tugs on the man's hand. "Let's go see a bar fight!"

"It's too dangerous for a boy your age."

Benny cackles. "Dangerouth," he repeats, mimicking the man's toothless sound. "But I got myself a fancy hat to protect myself now! No one's ever gonna notice I'm there!"

"That's not at all how it works."

"Why not?" Benny covers his face with the man's cowboy hat. "You can't see me because I can't see you. Now come on! Let's go see a bar fight!"

The man fixes the hat for him. "That's not going to happen."

Benny takes his hand and attempts to drag him towards the door, his young ten-year-old mind not processing that he's much too small for that. "Let's go! Do you have a horsey? I bet you have a horsey, don't you? Let's to ride a horsey to a bar fight!"

The man pulls his hat off of the boy's head. "We're not going to see a bar fight, so stop asking."

"Why?" Benny whines. "Daddy used to go to the bar all the time! I bet he got o see a lot of bar fights!"

"You ain't your daddy, kid."

"You ain't yo daddy, kid," Benny mimics in a high pitched voice, mocking his pronoun citations.

The man sighs. "Fine, wait here, and I'll be back in five minutes with a horsey just for you."

But, when thirty minutes go by and he still hasn't returned, Benny finally realizes he missed his chance.