tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62927956869384773792024-03-13T14:12:11.300-07:00Noah's Creative Writing Blog Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239678125617730444noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292795686938477379.post-69861760419166012172015-06-17T05:34:00.003-07:002015-06-17T05:34:12.691-07:001 Act Play: This was Supposed to be Fun <div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jason and Christina are sitting in a Dairy Queen at 11:00 at night, they just got done eating dinner at the 99 restaurant. They were set up on a blind date by John and Leah, John is Jason’s brother and Leah is Christina’s sister. They begin ordering their ice creams. </span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-dd568f7b-0182-4498-798c-70753a71b62b" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jason: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hi, can I please have...uhh...a medium, vanilla soft serve in a cone? Um with cherry dip. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Christina: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Can i please have a small, chocolate soft serve in a cup. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As they both get their ice creams, Jason pays for them, and the take a seat in the booth farthest from the store windows and door. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jason: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">How’s your ice cream Christina? </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Christina: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It’s great, thanks for paying, you really didn’t have to do that. You’re so sweet.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jason:</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> No problem, it was my pleasure. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Christina: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sit down, stay awhile.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jason: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Oh..uhh.okay. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Christina: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I know I learned a lot about you already, but what else can you tell me?</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jason: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Umm.. I’m not really sure. What exactly is it that you want to know about me?</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Christina: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Well, you never told me where you’re from, I am from New York, New York, how about you? Where are you from?</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jason: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Oh, uh.. I am from Norton, Ohio. I just moved here from there two years ago.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Christina: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Thats random, New York is probably much nicer. Isn’t Ohio like all farmland and ranches?</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jason: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">No, umm.. no its not. Ohio is really nice and quiet, I have a lot of friends there. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Christina: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Well I can see why you haven’t made any friends here yet, you’re really awkward and not very funny. Why aren’t you funny? </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jason: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Oh, im sorry..I didn’t..uhh..mean to. I’m really sorry. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Christina: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It’s okay, I’m like the life of the party. (She bursts out laughing at what she said) </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jason: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Oh, uh yah. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Christina: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You’re honestly so weird, why are you getting so scared...I’m just a person. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jason: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Maybe, we should...um just leave. I can see you don’t really like me. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Christina: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Okay, bye. (She got up and left) </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jason was sitting alone in dairy queen, just trying to be his awkward self. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6666666666667px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239678125617730444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292795686938477379.post-4725662235640939362015-06-11T03:34:00.001-07:002015-06-11T03:34:08.045-07:00Picture Perfect Prompts <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OLIfzUSr-0g/VXlj5mzMquI/AAAAAAAAAGc/_JL-kf3QOH4/s1600/rocking%2Bchair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OLIfzUSr-0g/VXlj5mzMquI/AAAAAAAAAGc/_JL-kf3QOH4/s1600/rocking%2Bchair.jpg" /></a></div>
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<u>Story #6</u><br />
Every time I went to my grandparents house, it would be sitting there on the porch. It stared me down intensely. I never knew why it was there since no one ever used it. One day, I decided to ask. Before my grandmother told me, she warned me that it was probably going to sound crazy, but if I wanted to know she would tell me. I still wanted to know. So she told me the story of my great, great,great, great grandmother and her rocking chair. She said she would sit in the chair all day, every day. No matter what. Rain or shine, she would sit on her porch in the chair. She ate dinner there, breakfast and lunch too. So, when she found out she was going to pass away due to a cancer, she asked that my grandparents leave the chair where it was. She said she wanted to sit there while she watched over everyone. Of course they listened, and they do believe that she sits in it still. I believe too, because I can feel her presence and it so crazy. Now, every time I walk by it, I say hi to her. Is<br />
that weird?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239678125617730444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292795686938477379.post-55958950762994140692015-06-11T03:23:00.001-07:002015-06-11T03:23:15.855-07:00Picture Perfect Prompts <u> Story #5</u><br />
I took her down to our favorite place. Casually, we walked as if it was just any other walk. She didn't know yet, but of course I did. That was the night everything in my life changed. We got to our favorite bench. We sat there just staring at the beautiful water, amazed even at out millionth time seeing it. I turned to her. Her eyes were shining like stars, and her smile took up the entire beach. I went down on my knee,and popped the question. "Will you marry me?' I asked her with the ring in my hand. She started sobbing with happiness, and she eventually spit out the word. She said yes. I knew from that day one, we were going to be the best for friends. We would become parents to our child. I couldn't wait. It was like nothing else I had ever experienced and I would do it over a million times if I could. Today, we are living with our too young children, in a nice home together. What else can you ask for.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W_Ccwik3H-M/VXlhhg4AknI/AAAAAAAAAGM/-bTBG82cFvE/s1600/marsh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W_Ccwik3H-M/VXlhhg4AknI/AAAAAAAAAGM/-bTBG82cFvE/s1600/marsh.jpg" /></a></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239678125617730444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292795686938477379.post-52949688755907985122015-06-11T03:13:00.003-07:002015-06-11T10:01:12.719-07:00Picture Perfect Prompts<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FuX90pOzX_0/VXlfH63jKhI/AAAAAAAAAF8/RSpSaoAGIHM/s1600/graveyard.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FuX90pOzX_0/VXlfH63jKhI/AAAAAAAAAF8/RSpSaoAGIHM/s1600/graveyard.JPG" /></a><br />
<u>Story #4</u><br />
When James was a child, he was very curious. As soon as he could talk, he wouldn't stop asking questions. One thing that intrigued him greatly was graveyards. Every time he drove by one, or saw one, he would ask about it. His parents felt he wasn't mature enough to actually know yet, so they never told him what they were. Despite this, he never stopped asking until one day. His parents took him on a walk. When they came close to a graveyard, they knew they were going to get some questions. This time was different though. They were ready to explain to their son, what a graveyard actually is. When he asked, they explained that it was where peoples body's go when it is time for them to go to heaven. He was shocked. As he got older and older, he was traumatized by the experience. James wouldn't step within 100 feet of a grave yard anymore. How can something be so beautiful to someone, and then be their biggest fear? It was 4:23 in the evening, on January 1, 1990. A new year had just started, and James was ready to start fresh. He was now living at his own house with his girlfriend. When he arrived to his parents house to have dinner with them, he knocked on the door but go no answer. He thought nothing of it and just walked in. When he walked into the kitchen. His father was sobbing. He couldn't see her yet but his mother was lying there on the floor. Next, they came in to get her. He was awestruck. So surprised. Not in a good way. His mother was dead. It was time for the funeral and wake. He couldn't usually go to grave yards, still, but everyone figured he would make an exception. He didn't. He was too scared. He didn't show up. Not only to the wake, but ever, he was gone and no one knew where he went. No one but his mother.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239678125617730444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292795686938477379.post-26347969899766957982015-06-11T02:56:00.000-07:002015-06-11T02:56:07.198-07:00Picture Perfect Prompts <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DCZL9Nfq6sY/VXlbAJRuc2I/AAAAAAAAAFs/N7raMLyJ6qw/s1600/sunset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DCZL9Nfq6sY/VXlbAJRuc2I/AAAAAAAAAFs/N7raMLyJ6qw/s1600/sunset.jpg" /></a></div>
<u>Story #3</u><div>
It was 5:00 in the morning, when I heard the birds screams I woke up immediately. My girlfriend was lying there next to me, motionless in sleep. Despite the amazing sunset I could see clearly out of the back window of the hotel, there was something unnerving. I could feel it as my bones tingled. I didn't really know what t do. I didn't want to her up so early, but I felt I had to. So, I woke her up and although she wasn't extremely joyful when she got up, we left the hotel as soon as we could. As we began the long drive home, it was awkward. No one was talking, not me and not her. The car was silent, no music, no conversation, nothing. Was it me? I kept asking myself this, but something kept telling me that it wasn't. When we got home, she ran straight upstairs. I stayed downstairs, because I had no idea what to do. I walked up the old stairs slowly, scared for some reason as to what I would see. I walked into the bedroom we shared, although we weren't married, and saw her. Lying there. With pills spilled all over the. I looked for a pulse. It was no where to be found. I ran my fingers, slowly, up and down her arms and legs. I was just thinking about how much I loved her. After I came back to reality I called 911. When they arrived and took her away, I lost it. I couldn't take it anymore. I went over to the suitcase I had used for our trip, and got the ring out of it. The ring I was going to give her tonight. <br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239678125617730444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292795686938477379.post-51872645310603518552015-06-05T09:39:00.003-07:002015-06-11T10:01:38.318-07:00Picture Perfect Prompts<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VeMiEZ06U_w/VXHQjatUS5I/AAAAAAAAAFQ/r7gc9d0TAu0/s1600/blogger-image--1856759673.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VeMiEZ06U_w/VXHQjatUS5I/AAAAAAAAAFQ/r7gc9d0TAu0/s320/blogger-image--1856759673.jpg" width="180" /></a> <u>Story #2</u><br />
We were eight and nine years old. She was eight. Although young, we were mature. We knew things most children our age didn't. We were like two peas in a pod. Inseparable. We would play tag, hide and go seek, and even just run around. We often played in our favorite spot. There was woods behind my house. One day, we went out and were just walking around, weaving in and out of the tall, intimidating trees. She stopped. She sat down on a near by rock. I didn't know what to do. She asked me to come over, so that's what I did. For once, she asked if we could talk. I agreed naively. She wanted to talk about her family. She said her parents would be getting a divorce. I replied with my condolences, and thought we would go back to playing. She continued. I never realized, that she would have to move away to live with he mother. When she told me, I was distraught, devastated, unnerved. I had no movement and no thought. She acted as if nothing had happened, and asked if I wanted to play hide and go seek with her. I nodded. We played, at least I thought we were playing. She hid first. I was counting, and when I was done I went to go find her. She was gone. I looked, and looked, and looked. She was no where to be found. I went home. I told my parents about what had happened. My mother told me that her and her family just drove away in a moving bus. That would be the last time I had ever seen her, so I thought. I am 40 years old now, and I still remember how I felt that day. I had lost all hope of finding new friends. I did everything alone after that. Until one day. The greatest day of my life. I walked into out local Starbucks like every morning, and there was a woman sitting there. I had never seen such a beautiful woman. Little did I know, it was her. I went up to her and said hi. I had know idea who it was. She recognized me. I then figured it out. I was so happy. Went slowly went on, dating and becoming best friends again. Now we are married with three beautiful children. It went from bad to perfect so quickly. It was okay though. It was perfect then and that is all that matters. Until yesterday. We found out she has an extremely deathly cancer. She will die in two day, and I don't know what to do. I can't do this. Good bye Samantha, i'm sorry.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239678125617730444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292795686938477379.post-4286663211584392992015-06-05T09:13:00.002-07:002015-06-05T09:13:56.001-07:00Picture Perfect Prompts <u>Story #1</u><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vemQMI5rHz8/VXHG8yfGxII/AAAAAAAAAFA/TeL8o0XAW8o/s1600/DSC01760.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vemQMI5rHz8/VXHG8yfGxII/AAAAAAAAAFA/TeL8o0XAW8o/s1600/DSC01760.JPG" /></a></div>
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Suddenly, I couldn't breathe. Something was over my mouth. It felt weird. It felt like a persons hand. I couldn't see either. I didn't realize what was going on at the time. That is until I was thrown into the back of the white, filthy van. I could see then, and I could breathe too. There was only one small window that I could see out of. I saw many trees, and we were on a narrow, dirt path. I had know idea where I was going, or who was driving me there. At this time I still hadn't realized what was going on. The path went on forever, like a black hole. It felt like the ride was never ending. When we reached the end of the winding path, there was an old, torn, log cabin. In front of us, was a huge tree. Bigger than anything I had ever seen in my entire life. I had never felt so vulnerable. There was five men. All extremely muscular, and could easily destroy me all on there own, but there were three. I didn't know what to do. They didn't speak one word. They used gestures to lead me into the house and down into the musty basement. There were at least 30 other men there. They all looked as scared as me, they seemed to also have no idea what was going on. We were all in the same position. The three men had left. They left me there with all of the other men. No one had said anything, and I knew, without instruction, to not speak. I am sitting in this room, where 40 other men have arrived, and it has been only two more days. I don't have any idea what is going on. Help. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239678125617730444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292795686938477379.post-25544541503019174862015-06-03T06:56:00.002-07:002015-06-03T06:56:54.269-07:00My Pictures <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239678125617730444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292795686938477379.post-14577026442324652252015-05-28T09:36:00.000-07:002015-05-28T09:36:29.556-07:00Alphabet Creative Writing Prompt: Children Always dreaming, thinking, wondering. Boisterous children frolicking through the woods. Courageous yet naive, innocent from the world surrounding them. Dandelions everywhere making them ever so happy, without them even knowing why. Even the smallest of things amaze them. Forever they smile, again, without knowing why. Guiding them are their helpless hearts. Hiding inside of their shell like a turtle, afraid yet excited to come out and see the world. Insight, their creative, young minds slowly being destroyed by their elders. Just one thing keeps them young. Knowing what is too come, would abolish all that they have. Lives we could easily be cherishing, but aren't. Making them spitting images of ourselves and completely ignoring what they want themselves. Not only are they superior, but they are the key to our success. Often ignored by society. Put in schools to be ruined by ignorant persons. Quietly, some disobey but those are the ones who are punished. Really, are we really sure what we are doing is right? Stop and think for a minute. Try to look at it from their point of view. Understand where they're coming from. Verify if what you want them to do is what they want to do. When they try to express themselves, let them. Xylophones, guitars, pianos, we need them all. You need to be able to let everything out and express your feelings. Zephyrs speak quietly to children, so that they know whats right. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239678125617730444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292795686938477379.post-13403898140162927432015-05-19T09:32:00.001-07:002015-05-19T09:32:35.041-07:00Ironic Situation: Aren't Ambulances Supposed to Save You?<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was 5:00 pm on May 21, 2001. The sun was still shining and the birds were still chirping. Chanel and her daughter were driving down the road at a normal pace, but increasing in speed rapidly. As she got a text from her husband, she haphazardly unlocked her phone to check it, immediately putting herself and her daughter in danger. </span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-0b2c0f9d-6d04-3fcc-1c83-485f0e1aaa16" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As she started reading she got through the words, “Hey, honey how are you and…,” but before she could finish, there was an eighteen wheeler abolishing her and and her daughter’s future. There was an uncanny silence among the street. The cars stopped coming and nothing moved. Surprisingly, Chanel’s daughter, Shalyssa, survived the horrific crash. Since she was only eight years old, so she was crying out of fear only, she had not yet understood the flabbergasting fate of her mother. She did the best she could to get out of the car, and when she did she just stood in awe at what had happened. She then began calling for her mother.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Mommy! Mommy! Are you okay?”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A near by car arrived at the scene, and called 911. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Hello, my name is Carmen. Are you okay sweetie?”</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Shalyssa answered timidly, “Yes, but I don’t know about my momma.”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“The ambulance will be here soon to check on you and your mom. Stay where you are,” Carmen assured her.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You could hear the ambulance from a thousand miles away, but the eighteen wheeler </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">blocked the view of when exactly it would arrive. As the sound of an alarm grew closer and closer they knew it was coming. Shalyssa’s heart was beating a million miles an hour and her emotions took over her. She began sprinting into the street. Her short, young legs wouldn’t take her very far, very fast, but soon enough something happened. She was hit. Completely demolished by some car. Carmen could hear the entire thing as she was trying to stop her. When she got to the other side of the eighteen wheeler, Carmen saw two things. An ambulance sitting there, with Shalyssa lying there in front of it. Lifeless. </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239678125617730444noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292795686938477379.post-74730446851901585752015-05-10T18:46:00.001-07:002015-05-10T18:46:42.102-07:00Found Poem<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-dh_yN3iEhao/VVAJ_zKuMaI/AAAAAAAAACc/f2ITIhaXeYw/s1600/Snapchat-1715969599776540305.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-dh_yN3iEhao/VVAJ_zKuMaI/AAAAAAAAACc/f2ITIhaXeYw/s640/Snapchat-1715969599776540305.jpg"> </a> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239678125617730444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292795686938477379.post-61165163083063400902015-05-01T08:22:00.001-07:002015-05-07T07:26:10.976-07:00Poems<div dir="ltr">
Elegy:<br />
He was so young and naive,<br />
so unique, you wouldn’t even believe.<br />
when he passed us with pride,<br />
without meeting a bride,<br />
I couldn’t even imagine my life.</div>
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Only a boy, not even a teen,<br />
why does life have to be so mean?<br />
all of his life, his experiences great,<br />
but then this happens.<br />
Then this happens?</div>
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I hate him for this, I hate him,<br />
but i loved him.<br />
It flew in like a bird, without one word,<br />
and took him with no regard.</div>
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He was no good anyways, but…<br />
I cannot lie, I am nothing without him in my life,<br />
I cannot go on.<br />
I can never go on again.</div>
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I have to move on, I have to<br />
I can no longer do this…<br />
I can not reminisce with remorse,<br />
no more sad songs singing in my head,<br />I'm done.</div>
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Limerick: <br />
There once was a frail, fragile frog,<br />
he made friends with a big, brown hog.<br />
When the others made fun,<br />
he would just shun.<br />
but of course he would never flog.</div>
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Triolet:<br />
Her smile was so bright,<br />
it made my day and every night.<br />
She sang with such delight,<br />
Her smile was so bright,<br />
She made me feel like i was in flight,<br />
so, why did we fight?<br />
Her smile was so bright,<br />
it made my day and every night.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239678125617730444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292795686938477379.post-59456892590484981912015-04-06T07:34:00.002-07:002015-04-06T07:34:16.243-07:00Opposite Tones: Divorse<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My parents were so in love, and now they want nothing to do with each other. How did this all happen and why does it have to happen to me? People who get married are supposed to stay together for the rest of their life! I hate this world, and everything in it. I don’t understand it, and I want nothing to do with it. I hope both of my parents and everyone else just leave me alone for the rest of my life. I wouldn’t even be upset if I never saw another day. I can’t even explain my anger towards EVERYTHING right now. Please, someone tell me why! Hate isn’t even the word. Its 10 times worse than hate. It’s death I cannot stand it. I will never put my children through something like this, my parents are terrible people. I hope they’re happy, because I am not. </span></div>
<span id="docs-internal-guid-9b729da7-8f26-e29a-8f19-395a4a680ab6"><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> My parents were in love, now they can’t even look at each other. Their hearts are broken, and they’re “endless love” has come to an end. I can’t describe the sadness I feel for both them, and myself. Although it may be selfish I feel terrible for myself because my family is the most important thing. I know I can’t get us back together, but I can dream. I don’t feel angry towards them, I feel empathetic. I can understand why they wouldn’t feel as they did before towards each other, but I never thought that their love would seize. I dreamt of a feeling of love like my parents had, but they broke their love into a thousand pieces and my dreams are a lie. I know that we will make it through this, and I know it will be hard. I just want everyone to be happy. </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239678125617730444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292795686938477379.post-25426658441927938342015-03-30T19:16:00.001-07:002015-03-30T19:16:24.970-07:00Distillation<span id="docs-internal-guid-e88de3a4-6d9b-cd9f-2120-283c83bae5e4"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Arguing the inhumanity of scientific experiments in the excerpt, the narrator uses a change in point of view, imagery, and diction to strongly advocate for his or her opinion towards the subject. Initially introducing negative ideas and then switching to an accusation of the scientists creates the narrator’s hatred towards them and their experiments. The narrator’s feelings towards the unorthodox scientists and their awkward experiments are conveyed through the excerpt in order to stop scientists’ experiments and to create an army of advocates for his or her view on the subject. The excerpt is full of the narrator’s judgments against intellectuals involved in scientific experiments so that readers can understand and retain a negative view point on the subject. </span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239678125617730444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292795686938477379.post-85812894354354141102015-03-26T06:55:00.003-07:002015-03-26T06:55:53.586-07:00200 Word Sentence: Soccer<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"> I woke up this morning thing to myself about why
I play this game, why I play this game every weekend through the snow and rain,
I have come to a conclusion; I play with cold, hot, rainy, snowy, or any kind
of weather because I love the sport and it makes me happy when nothing else
can, the feeling you get when you’re on the field and you score a goal is like
nothing else, I can’t even explain it, my heart beats faster than ever and I
get a certain tingle in my entire body, it is unreal, when I am celebrating
with my team it seems as if all of the hardships and dismay of life are gone,
and I wouldn’t trade that feeling for anything else in the world, I hope that I
can contain this feeling for the rest of my life, that is the reason that I
wake up early every weekend to play the sport in any weather; cold, warm, hot,
rainy, and even snow, because I love it and because there is nothing else like
it in this big, huge world full of feelings, I love it so much I would do
anything to keep it for the rest of my life. </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239678125617730444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292795686938477379.post-42814894142282712462015-03-24T17:39:00.000-07:002015-03-24T17:40:17.694-07:00Tone/ Angry Letter: All Teachers <div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dear every teacher to ever live,</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I do thank and praise you for your help with many new things in many new subjects, but to be completely honest half of you can’t even teach which I may also remind you is your job. So, we students have to come to school early every morning, on week-days of course, and sit in a class for 6 hours and 23 minutes where we aren’t even learning what we are supposed to, due to your inability to teach anything. Then you proceed to charm us with 4 hours of homework, per class I may add. Just to add on, teachers and colleges expect after-school activities too. So, if you expect us to be able to complete hours of homework per night, study, and do a sport during the noon time and then wake up at 6:00 in the morning with a positive mood, you’re a delusional dreamer. Not to mention, we also have to maintain a healthy weight and physical appearance in order to meet expectations set for us. Also we are supposed to make time to hangout with our friends, otherwise we are “socially-awkward”. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">For a 14-18 year old to have to deal with that many things during each and every week is extremely stressful and overwhelming. The stress can build up along side the sleep and energy loss and can make for a very unhealthy unhappy teenager, and it is all your fault. How does that make you feel? You could easily try to rebuttal my argument yet it would be pointless because it wouldn’t be valid. I respect that teachers want the best for their students and can sometimes be one of the best support systems for students, but ever think that they are the ones causing most of the teens’ problems? I have and I think that they do. So, please reconsider the amount of homework you give to your students because they are already under a huge amount of stress and they do not need any more added to it. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Sincerely, </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Noah Taffah</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239678125617730444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292795686938477379.post-18564579416332531582015-03-16T20:35:00.002-07:002015-03-16T20:35:49.937-07:00Apostrophe: Heaven So beautiful you are, but I am not ready to meet you so soon. Although when I do, I know it will be the most delightful of meetings. Your luscious clouds and dreams seem so appealing to me. I cannot lie by saying I would like to meet you, but I will admit it is the inevitable. I have accepted our future relationship and I hope to find my loved ones with you. Heaven please be what I have always hoped. I need you Heaven to be that. Heaven, oh Heaven.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239678125617730444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292795686938477379.post-30755023652600683772015-03-16T20:28:00.004-07:002015-03-16T20:28:38.097-07:00Synecdoche: Relay Race The crowd is yelling, chanting, "NORTON! NORTON!" Yet my anxiety has taken oven and I can't hear one word coming out of anyone's mouth, not even mine. I am waiting and waiting for what seems like forever but is really only about 1 minute. Finally it approaches me. I take off as the baton gets closer and closer, and soon it is in my hand. My nervous, clammy, young, little hand. It's all up to me now, it feels like I have to win it for the team. I am running and running and running and I cross the finish line. All of a sudden, the noise reaches my ears and I can hear everything and everyone. I crossed the finish line without even realizing that we won the race with the school record. I can't wait until the next race as the baton reaches me and I take off.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239678125617730444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292795686938477379.post-19981134919010506592015-03-12T07:39:00.000-07:002015-03-12T07:39:10.936-07:00Good Luck Fixing Me: Unreliable Narrator/ Unorthodox POV <div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"> </span><i><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Why
are we here? How are we here? Who put us here? Is this all just a game? What is
the point? I wake up, go to work at McDonalds, and come home to go to sleep.
What psychotic, millionaire, alien is the one who is tormenting us in this life
of depression and anxiety? All I want in this so called “life” is to know why
I’m living it, because it seems worthless to me. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> I have these things that help me get
through the day, but they’re expensive. This is the real reason I work at
McDonalds, although my family doesn’t know that. I am a 15 year old drop out.
Life isn’t even worth it, so why would school be? All I live for is the feeling
I get when I use those things I use. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> Without these things I have, I would
not be able to live through one hour, never mind one day. If my parents and
sister ever found out they would be so proud of me! They would finally realize
that I’m a good kid! That is why I have to tell them soon. They will think I am
so smart for finding these things and buying them. They will finally love me. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Mom! Dad!” I said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Come here I need to tell you something!” I yelled. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“What do you want now?” They sighed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I have these things here look! Aren’t you proud of me
for getting them?” I asked<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“What is that? Where did you get those? You’re a terrible
son, who doesn’t deserve anything. I cannot wait until you’re out of my house!”
My mother said to me with un</span><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;">explainable</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> wrath. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> I just
walked away. The conversation didn’t go as well as I had hoped. I thought they
would have been happy that I got those things. So I used them, but a lot this
time. I had never taken that many before and it made me feel great! I was so disappointed
that my parents didn’t love me, all I wanted to do is lay in my bed and cry and
do nothing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> It had
been three weeks since I showed up to work or even left the house, and my
parents didn’t even care. I got fired that morning from my fast food job. I wouldn’t
be needing another job. My parents thought I was worthless and so did I. <i>Maybe I really shouldn’t be here… Maybe I
should just end it all right now. It would be better for everyone. I wouldn’t
have to deal with anything anymore, my parents would be free of the weight I
put on their shoulders, and my sister could have my room.</i> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> So, I
decided to do it. I ended everything. I ended my depression, all with one huge
gulp of 15 of those things I had. I ended it. All of it. That easily. It was
all gone. But was it really? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> I could
still see them. I could still see my family, and they hadn’t found me yet. I
couldn’t wait to see their happy faces when they saw my limp body lying there
on my bed! What would they say? “Finally, he is gone,” is what I expected. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> That’s
not exactly what happened though…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Oh my god! John come in here! Help!” My mother yelled. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My dad came running in, “What, what, what is it, what
happened?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“He’s gone, he’s really gone!” My mother sobbed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> I thought they wanted me gone…? Mom
said I didn’t deserve anything</span></i><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">. I made a huge mistake. Hearing
the 911 call my mom made was displeasing and made me feel guilty. I thought
that this would make everything better but I guess I was wrong. I made another
bad mistake and I couldn’t fix it<i>. I may
as well make the most out of it. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> I was
looking for someone to talk to, but no one else was there. <i>Where is everyone? Why am I all alone?</i> I started running, and I
never stopped. I was sprinting, and instead of getting tired, I was getting
faster, faster by the second. <i>Where ever
I’m going, I know it’s the right way. I just have that feeling that everything
is going to be okay. I feel like everything is going to be right here.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> I finally
found someone, but as soon as I saw her I lost everything I loved. My family
was gone for good. I knew I had made a horrible and unchangeable mistake. I
knew the woman, I knew her well actually and she knew me too. She was an
elderly woman, and she was here with me. We had both lost everything, and so I
assumed I could talk to her about my feelings. I assumed wrong, she was
surprisingly unsympathetic to my case. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Hi, where is everyone?” I asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Hello Shaun,” the woman said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Umm…where is everyone?” I asked again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I know what you did Shaun!” the woman yelled at me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> I tried
to run, but I couldn’t. I tried and tried and tried, and I couldn’t run. She
was controlling me? I know her and she wouldn’t do that. It’s someone else. I
didn’t know what was going on, but I still had that feeling that everything was
going to be okay, and I would find happiness in the unknown place I was in. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> It was
weird, I started to hear my mother’s voice calling my name. Increasing in
volume each time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Shaun. Shaun. Shaun! Shaun!” I heard her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> I woke
up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> I don’t know
what happened, but I woke up that day in a hospital bed. I think I died and
woke back up, but I don’t know how. I think maybe god did it. I think he helped
me fix my mistake. That is why I was going to fix the rest of my mistakes now.
I am writing this because I have to. You guys are making me do it. You say,
“This is going to help you get better okay Shaun.” I don’t believe you really,
but you guys are all I have right now and I told My parents I would do anything
you asked of me so I will keep that promise. Hopefully this helped you guys,
good luck fixing me! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239678125617730444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292795686938477379.post-1704840597308767012015-02-26T05:51:00.002-08:002015-02-26T05:56:24.843-08:00The Plot Sickens <div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; text-indent: 0.5in;">It was Christmas Eve.
Fog stuck to the tarmac at Lindbergh field. My family and I were getting ready
to head out to New York City where we would stay in a hotel until New Year’s
Eve. My wife and I had celebrated in New York before, but never with our two
children. My son’s name was Jacob, my daughter’s name was Samantha, and my
wife’s name was Janette. Our family had always had an amazing bond, and we
could not wait to spend our favorite holiday together.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> It was 7:00 and our flight was coming
up. 30 minutes until boarding time, and everything was going as planned. Next
thing I knew, both of my children were tugging at my pants begging me to take
them to the frozen yogurt shop down the hall and of course their little puppy
dog eyes were irresistible, so I took them. My wife was sleeping in a chair
near our gate so we left her there in peace.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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All three of us had our yogurt, and we even got one for Janette. We were
on our way back to the gate and everyone was in a good mood. When we got back,
Janette was nowhere to be found. At first, we assumed that she was in the
bathroom, but she wasn't. We waited and waited assuming that she would be back
soon, but the flight was boarding and she never came back. We did not board the
flight and we notified the police, but did they really care?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> On
Christmas Eve 5 years later, and we still had no Janette. Where did she go?
Little did we know, the police were actually looking for her and they thought
they would be able to find her within the next few weeks. I didn't tell the
children because I didn't want them to get their hopes up about finding her for
real and actually getting her back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> It
was 4:30 pm on a hot Saturday, summer night when I received a call from the
local police. They told me that they know where Janette is, but they don't know
how they are going to get her just yet. Of course the new is a delight to me,
but we don't have her for sure just yet, so I haven't told the children. They
told me that they wanted my help to come up with a plan, so I did.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> We
found a plan, we would surround the building she was in with police cars, but
in places that they couldn't be seen. I would approach the man keeping her whose
name happened to be Mark, and act as if I was buying some drugs from him. Then
the authorities would charge in and save my wife. It all worked in the end and
we found Janette. The only thing was it wasn't the same Janette I knew before.
5 years locked up can really impact a person and it's kind of funny how I never
thought about this before. I figured we would just send her to therapy and she
would be fine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Everything was not fine, I found out that she caused her kidnapping by
not paying back her DRUG DEALER. She had been doing cocaine for the past 10
years without me knowing. Our marriage was done and I took full custody of the
children. I cannot believe that this all happened to me, why me? I never did
anything wrong.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Everything seemed pointless until I met the love of my life I knew I
could trust more than anyone, even Janette. We got married and lived out the
perfect lives with my beautiful children. In a life that was perfect and
instantly turned to tragedy, my new lover changed everything and made life
worth all that pain I went throughout. I am so happy that this all happened
because otherwise I would not have the life I have today. Everything happens
for a reason right?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Reflection: In the article, "The Plot
Sickens" by Fanny Howe, Fanny proposes that young contemporary writers conclude
their stories with violence to the craziest extent due to their inability to
find a rational solution to the very problem in which they created. In my
"free-write", the only thing I accomplished was proving Fanny Howe to
be completely and utterly correct. My story ends with the main characters wife
getting kidnapped on Christmas Eve, and then she never comes back to them
because the police are too preoccupied to help them out. I don't know if
laziness or inability was the cause to my uncanny ending, but it is still not a
good way to end my story. I need to find a rational solution to the problem I
created for the main character and his family. It is actually kind of sad how
young writers like myself are too naive to find an ending to a problem in which
THEY created. Hopefully I can use this article to improve my writing and other
students' too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239678125617730444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292795686938477379.post-81551899474118914952015-02-25T19:54:00.003-08:002015-02-25T19:54:32.010-08:00Self-Deprecation: Nobody's Perfect? Wrong. <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Its
first period on a Monday morning and I am sitting in my seat in math. I am all
the way to the left in the second row. We go through our new lesson and go over
the quiz I failed last Thursday. I am already extremely annoyed due to my
sub-subpar quiz grade and then we get assigned a new math homework which
consists of 60 problems. I am distraught by the amount of homework I already
have and its only first period! I guess when we were offered 15 minutes to
start our homework I was stoked, but would I really benefit from it? It has
been 5 minutes since we started and I have already re-written my heading 4
times yet everyone else is already on problem number 5. 10 minutes now and I am
only on problem number 2…everyone else was on problem 12. Our 15 minutes is
over and I only managed to complete a total of 4 problems while everyone else
completed 17 because everything I write has to look perfect otherwise I have an
anxiety attack. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I am
sitting at home trying to complete the mile high pile of homework that I have
and then I look over on the couch next to me and see a pile of blankets. I
really, really, really need to finish this homework so that I can get a good
night sleep, but then look at those blankets. “No, keep working,” I tell myself
but I can’t help it, something in the room is not absolutely perfect and I can’t
take it anymore. 5 minutes later I have all of the couch pillows set and the
blankets folded and I am ready to keep working on my homework. Yet, my need for
perfection is still taking over my life because, all of my writing has to look perfect
and that takes a while. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
one thing I love the most besides my friends and family in this world is
soccer. Yet my anxious personality and need for perfection can sometimes take
over and ruin a game. We are up by 2 within the first 15 minutes which is
great, but we are still not playing to perfection and I am starting to get aggravated
with everyone including; the ref, my teammates, my coach. And most of all,
myself. I start yelling at people and at the ref, “What are you doing? That was
terrible, you’re ruining the game!” I am yelling at myself and smacking the turf.
Keep in mind we are winning 4-0 right now, and I am still not satisfied because
I only want perfection. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>How
am I ever going to succeed and be happy with myself when perfection is the only
thing that satisfies me because no one, or anything, is, or ever will be,
perfect right? How am I supposed to live with myself if I can’t believe that I
did something right? I guess I will try to find satisfaction with less than
perfect eventually, but right now perfection is what I want and I will continue
to strive for it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Hi, I
bet you thought the essay was done, but it’s not perfect yet right? I know I am
asking you a lot of questions as a reader, but you’re going to have to deal with
it. I have come to realize that this essay is most likely not going to be
perfect and I guess that’s okay. I am not entirely happy with my need for perfection
because even though it is good to strive to be the best, almost all of the
traits that it brings out in me are negative towards my personality, but that
is me so deal with it right? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239678125617730444noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292795686938477379.post-7811375886241439432015-02-24T09:12:00.002-08:002015-02-24T09:24:19.174-08:00I Thought the Police Department Was Supposed to Help You: Open-ended Prompt<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"> It was Christmas Eve.
Fog stuck to the tarmac at Lindbergh field. My family and I were getting ready
to head out to New York City where we would stay in a hotel until New Year’s
Eve. My wife and I had celebrated in New York before, but never with our two
children. My son’s name was Jacob, my daughter’s name was Samantha, and my wife’s
name was Janette. Our family had always had an amazing bond, and we could not wait
to spend our favorite holiday together. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"> It was 7:00 and our flight was coming up. 30 minutes
until boarding time, and everything was going as planned. Next thing I knew,
both of my children were tugging at my pants begging me to take them to the
frozen yogurt shop down the hall, and of course their little puppy dog eyes
were irresistible so I took them. My wife was sleeping in a chair near our gate
so we left her there in peace.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"> All three of us had our yogurt and we even got one for
Janette. We were on our way back to the gate and everyone was in a good mood.
When we got back to our gate Janette was nowhere to be found. At first, we
assumed that she was in the bathroom, but she wasn’t. We waited and waited
assuming that she would be back soon, but the fight was boarding and she never
came back. We did not board the flight and we notified the police, but did they
really care? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"> Today is Christmas Eve 5 years later, and we still have
no Janette. Where did she go? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09239678125617730444noreply@blogger.com0