When I was about six years old, I lost one of my teeth. I was so excited that the Tooth Fairy was going to visit me and give me money. I told my mom about my lost tooth and she smiled.
That night, my mom snuck into my room when I was asleep and took my tooth. The only problem was, she forgot to leave money under my pillow in return.
When I woke up the next morning, I looked everywhere for the money. In the end, I was devastated- the Tooth Fairy had stolen my tooth. I told my mom about the incident, heartbroken and outraged. She assured me over and over that the Tooth Fairy would probably realize her mistake and come back the next night.So when I went to bed, my mom snuck in once more in the middle of the night and corrected the "Tooth Fairy's" mistake.
When I awoke the next morning, I sat up and rubbed my eyes before looking around sleepily. Suddenly, my eyes widened and a toothy grin (with the exception of my missing tooth, of course) broke out on my face. Glitter covered my bedspread and my hair.
I then stood up on my bed and lifted my pillow up. Low and behold, a small mound of change was beneath it. There was also one other thing. A small note of apology from the Tooth Fairy sat beside the money. Back then , I thought I was pretty special to get fairy dust, a note, AND extra money for one of my baby teeth.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Christmas Nonfiction
Now that Christmas is coming, I start to think about all the good Christmases I've had in the past, and the bad ones. I'm reminded of the worst Christmas ever when I hear the lyrics to the song "Feliz Navidad." The worst Christmas I ever had was when I was just four years old. My parents were divorced then, but my dad was able to take me and my brother out once a week according to the lawyer. We happened to go out with my dad late one Christmas Eve. He ended up with a few charges against him. He was arrested that night. It was terrible.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
My Friend's Emancipation
This weekend has been a tough one. I had to face people who were spiteful and hateful, but it was all in order to help one of my friends escape his family. They threatened to call the police on me, and said that I manipulated my friend into wanting to be emancipated. But I know that it was his choice and that he deserves a chance at living a normal life without such a disfunctional family holding him back. I'll start at the beginning.
My friend lives in a family who doesn't care enough about him to do the right thing for him. The stepfather does drugs and spends all the money that is supposed to go to food and rent for his family. The mother is too weak to leave him and give her kids what they really need in life. It is an abusive and secretive household, and there is so much corruption that I can not believe my friend has kept a hold on his good heart.
I met him only a year ago, but I know so much now that I know that the best thing for him to do is be emancipated and live on his own. He has had to grow up fast, and take care of himself and his little half-brother and sister when his mother was too busy cleaning up after her husband's mistakes to care.
Last week, the stepfather did something so horrible that my friend felt that he needed to become emancipated sooner than he expected. He already had a place picked out to live with a few of his older friends, so all he had to do was go to his house and pick up his things. But he had to tell his family what he planned on doing.
Since he doesn't have his driver's license yet and because I wanted to do all I could to help, I drove him to his aunt and uncle's house (his parents are moving to St. George but he had to finish up the first quarter of school) to get his things. He said that more than anything he needed moral support.
I haven't been welcome at his house because the entire family believes that I ruined his parents' marriage. It is ridiculous to think that I, at that time seventeen years old, could be capable of ruining someone's marriage. I even comforted my friend's mother when she came to me crying on my shoulder because of his drug addiction and infidelity. A thirty-four-year-old woman cried on my shoulder complaining about her husband, and I got her to talk to my mom about it. But a week later she was perfectly fine with her husband again and all of the sudden hated me, spreading the word to her family that I was the Antichrist of marriage problems.
So when my friend told me he wanted to come inside, I was hesitant because I am now eighteen and can be arrested. But I decided that if she told me to leave I would. So the two of us walked into the house. Right when his aunt saw me, she said with spite and malice, "You have to leave right now. If you do not leave, I will call the police."
Calmly, I asked her, "Why?"
"Because his mother told me that you are not allowed to hang out with him because of the damage you've caused to her marriage."
Yes, I was angry and shaken and so completely confused on how these people could be so fucked up. But I left. I decided to wait in the car for a few minutes in case he came out with his things, but after five minutes it was apparent that that wasn't going to happen. The aunt and uncle came out of the house yelling at me and threatening me once more with the police, so I left, talking on my cell phone with my mom for moral support. I had never had adults act so hostile toward me in my life. I have always been the good student in school, the polite and quiet girl, but these people looked at me as if I was the exact opposite. It shook me.
I cried on the way home and for a little while in my room, waiting for the phone to ring in case my friend would be able to get out. His family was so unpredictable. The crime that my friend's stepfather committed was completely covered up by him, the mother, and the mother had enough nerve to tell my friend that it was okay to tell a little lie to get out of such legal matters. I was apalled, and so afraid for my friend. Their selfishness proved that they cared more about themselves than their children.
After waiting for a while, I decided to watch a movie to get my mind off of it. I was halfway through the movie when my cell phone began ringing. I snatched it off the couch and saw that it was my friend. I answered it and he said simply, "They let me go."
I sat there for a second as the words sunk in, and he asked if I could pick him up and take him and his bags to his new place. He had only talked to his parents for an hour, while his aunt and uncle talked to him for two.
When I got to him, he told me all the things that were said. His stepfather simply swore and threatened and verbally abused my friend while his mother sat on the couch trying to guilt trip and manipulate her son (which I have seen her do countless times).
My friend said that he would tell the cops what his stepfather did, and his aunt cut in with a line that I cannot believe any decent human being would EVER say. "The Bible says to honor thy husband. Well, I would throw my kids in the street before throwing my husband out in the street." My friend was just as angry and disgusted as I was, especially when his mother chimed in with the same statement. I couldn't even imagine having my own mother say that about me. I will never know how my friend feels, but I am trying my best to understand and help him however I can.
His uncle, however, was completely supportive, saying that he knew what his homelife was like and that he encouraged him to live on his own. Even though his uncle hates me too, I was so happy that at least one person was on my friend's side.
I drove him to his new place, where his best friend and a few other guys live. I am glad he will have someone close to talk to, and the rent payment is cheap so he won't have to work so hard at living on his own. His first month is even paid for already by his roommates. His friend helped him with his bags, and even though the place is kind of small, it's still a place to live.
My friend's mother is signing the emancipation papers on Friday, and I couldn't be happier for him. I am so proud of him for doing all of this, and at sixteen years old. I hope that he can do all that he needs to without feeling so stressed or overwhelmed. I know that sometimes it is going to be hard for him to deal with, but at the same time I know that this is the best decision he has ever made for himself. I believe that he can do this, and I pray for all the help he can get.
My friend lives in a family who doesn't care enough about him to do the right thing for him. The stepfather does drugs and spends all the money that is supposed to go to food and rent for his family. The mother is too weak to leave him and give her kids what they really need in life. It is an abusive and secretive household, and there is so much corruption that I can not believe my friend has kept a hold on his good heart.
I met him only a year ago, but I know so much now that I know that the best thing for him to do is be emancipated and live on his own. He has had to grow up fast, and take care of himself and his little half-brother and sister when his mother was too busy cleaning up after her husband's mistakes to care.
Last week, the stepfather did something so horrible that my friend felt that he needed to become emancipated sooner than he expected. He already had a place picked out to live with a few of his older friends, so all he had to do was go to his house and pick up his things. But he had to tell his family what he planned on doing.
Since he doesn't have his driver's license yet and because I wanted to do all I could to help, I drove him to his aunt and uncle's house (his parents are moving to St. George but he had to finish up the first quarter of school) to get his things. He said that more than anything he needed moral support.
I haven't been welcome at his house because the entire family believes that I ruined his parents' marriage. It is ridiculous to think that I, at that time seventeen years old, could be capable of ruining someone's marriage. I even comforted my friend's mother when she came to me crying on my shoulder because of his drug addiction and infidelity. A thirty-four-year-old woman cried on my shoulder complaining about her husband, and I got her to talk to my mom about it. But a week later she was perfectly fine with her husband again and all of the sudden hated me, spreading the word to her family that I was the Antichrist of marriage problems.
So when my friend told me he wanted to come inside, I was hesitant because I am now eighteen and can be arrested. But I decided that if she told me to leave I would. So the two of us walked into the house. Right when his aunt saw me, she said with spite and malice, "You have to leave right now. If you do not leave, I will call the police."
Calmly, I asked her, "Why?"
"Because his mother told me that you are not allowed to hang out with him because of the damage you've caused to her marriage."
Yes, I was angry and shaken and so completely confused on how these people could be so fucked up. But I left. I decided to wait in the car for a few minutes in case he came out with his things, but after five minutes it was apparent that that wasn't going to happen. The aunt and uncle came out of the house yelling at me and threatening me once more with the police, so I left, talking on my cell phone with my mom for moral support. I had never had adults act so hostile toward me in my life. I have always been the good student in school, the polite and quiet girl, but these people looked at me as if I was the exact opposite. It shook me.
I cried on the way home and for a little while in my room, waiting for the phone to ring in case my friend would be able to get out. His family was so unpredictable. The crime that my friend's stepfather committed was completely covered up by him, the mother, and the mother had enough nerve to tell my friend that it was okay to tell a little lie to get out of such legal matters. I was apalled, and so afraid for my friend. Their selfishness proved that they cared more about themselves than their children.
After waiting for a while, I decided to watch a movie to get my mind off of it. I was halfway through the movie when my cell phone began ringing. I snatched it off the couch and saw that it was my friend. I answered it and he said simply, "They let me go."
I sat there for a second as the words sunk in, and he asked if I could pick him up and take him and his bags to his new place. He had only talked to his parents for an hour, while his aunt and uncle talked to him for two.
When I got to him, he told me all the things that were said. His stepfather simply swore and threatened and verbally abused my friend while his mother sat on the couch trying to guilt trip and manipulate her son (which I have seen her do countless times).
My friend said that he would tell the cops what his stepfather did, and his aunt cut in with a line that I cannot believe any decent human being would EVER say. "The Bible says to honor thy husband. Well, I would throw my kids in the street before throwing my husband out in the street." My friend was just as angry and disgusted as I was, especially when his mother chimed in with the same statement. I couldn't even imagine having my own mother say that about me. I will never know how my friend feels, but I am trying my best to understand and help him however I can.
His uncle, however, was completely supportive, saying that he knew what his homelife was like and that he encouraged him to live on his own. Even though his uncle hates me too, I was so happy that at least one person was on my friend's side.
I drove him to his new place, where his best friend and a few other guys live. I am glad he will have someone close to talk to, and the rent payment is cheap so he won't have to work so hard at living on his own. His first month is even paid for already by his roommates. His friend helped him with his bags, and even though the place is kind of small, it's still a place to live.
My friend's mother is signing the emancipation papers on Friday, and I couldn't be happier for him. I am so proud of him for doing all of this, and at sixteen years old. I hope that he can do all that he needs to without feeling so stressed or overwhelmed. I know that sometimes it is going to be hard for him to deal with, but at the same time I know that this is the best decision he has ever made for himself. I believe that he can do this, and I pray for all the help he can get.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Being Civil
I was at work when a guy came in to make a copy. When he was at the register, I told him it was eight cents. I held out my hand for the change he was sifting through. He looked up, dropped one nickel into my hand. After a moment of hesitation he dropped the other one into my hand. I gave him two cents change, dropping the first penny into his outstretched hand. When I dropped the other one, however, it bounced off his hand and onto the counter. I grabbed the receipt and handed it to him, but he still held out his hand, and I realized he still hadn't picked up the other penny. I picked up the penny and put it in his hand and he said, "It's called learning to be civil." After he walked out the door, I thought to myself, What a jerk. But then I began to think about it. Although he didn't have to be rude about it, I realized that a little reminder to be polite can't really hurt a person. I mean, remembering to hold a door open for someone, giving someone a compliment, those are things that make a difference. You might not even remember helping that person but later you might find out that it made all the difference for that person having a good day or a bad day. It's like that commercial where a man helps an older lady off a bus, and someone else sees it and then does something nice for someone else and someone else sees that and does something kind for someone else and so on and so forth- it can start a chain reaction. So even though it was a small comment and two small minutes out of my day, that comment made a difference. Don't just be civil, but be kind and mean it because it could really turn someone's day around.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
When I'm a Mom
Over the weekend I visited Lake Powell with my family and my mom's friends. On Sunday, my mom's friend drove the boat on the lake while her husband rode on waterskis off the back. The wind was getting really bad because of a storm that was coming, and my mom's friend wasn't that experienced in driving the boat, especially in such a strong wind.
Her husband insisted on skiing in the places where there were more rocks, and their cliff faces towered hundreds of feet above us. His wife was really nervous about driving with so many obstacles around her but she drove anyway. As her husband fell off the waterskis and we turned the boat around to go back and get him, the engine shut off.
We all looked around for a minute before realizing that the rope connected to the skiis was caught in the propellor. So we shut off the engine and untangled the rope. As we finished and started up the boat again, however, a sudden gust of wind blew and my mom's friend couldn't turn the wheel hard enough to get us away from a rock that jutted up out of the lake about five hundred feet into the sky. The front of the boat headed straight for the rock face, and everyone started screaming.
I, being at the front of the boat along with my mom's friend's four-year-old little girl, grabbed her as quickly as I could and headed to the middle of the boat. She clutched to me as tightly as she could as her mom took hold of the wheel and cranked it as hard as she could, missing the rock by mere inches.
Everyone started swearing and gasping in relief as we headed away from the boulder, leaving my mom's friend's husband to swim to the boat to avoid any more mishaps.
As everyone was calming down, I held the little girl as close as I could to me. No one seemed to notice how upset or frightened she was just yet. Tears were gathering in her eyes and I sat back down at the front of the boat, holding her on my lap. I put her head against my chest and whispered in her ear that everything was okay and that I loved her very much. She said softly that she loved me too, and I asked her if there were any songs she'd like me to sing. She nodded yes, but didn't volunteer one, so I began to sing "You Are My Sunshine" very softly in her ear, stroking her hair and holding her very close. After I was done singing it twice, I looked at her and saw that she looked very calm, and not one tear had fallen.
I can't even describe to you the fulfillment I felt in calming that little girl down and holding her close to me. I sang that song for a while after that, and even on the bumpy boat ride back to the shore, she almost fell asleep on my lap while listening to me hum it.
On the way back, I pointed out the different rocks and told her that they looked like cheese because of all the holes in them. She giggled and smiled and it was as if the incident of almost crashing had never happened.
Someday I want to be a mom. Even if I don't get the dream job I've always wanted or get to live where I really want, I want to be able to be called 'Mom' by my own child and take care of him/her because of how much love and joy I feel when I do it. How I am making a difference by being the best mom I can be.
As sappy and maternal as this all sounds, this is what I want to be. I want to be the fun, quirky, comforting, and caring mom. And once I find the perfect guy, I will make it my goal to be the best mom ever when I have kids.
Her husband insisted on skiing in the places where there were more rocks, and their cliff faces towered hundreds of feet above us. His wife was really nervous about driving with so many obstacles around her but she drove anyway. As her husband fell off the waterskis and we turned the boat around to go back and get him, the engine shut off.
We all looked around for a minute before realizing that the rope connected to the skiis was caught in the propellor. So we shut off the engine and untangled the rope. As we finished and started up the boat again, however, a sudden gust of wind blew and my mom's friend couldn't turn the wheel hard enough to get us away from a rock that jutted up out of the lake about five hundred feet into the sky. The front of the boat headed straight for the rock face, and everyone started screaming.
I, being at the front of the boat along with my mom's friend's four-year-old little girl, grabbed her as quickly as I could and headed to the middle of the boat. She clutched to me as tightly as she could as her mom took hold of the wheel and cranked it as hard as she could, missing the rock by mere inches.
Everyone started swearing and gasping in relief as we headed away from the boulder, leaving my mom's friend's husband to swim to the boat to avoid any more mishaps.
As everyone was calming down, I held the little girl as close as I could to me. No one seemed to notice how upset or frightened she was just yet. Tears were gathering in her eyes and I sat back down at the front of the boat, holding her on my lap. I put her head against my chest and whispered in her ear that everything was okay and that I loved her very much. She said softly that she loved me too, and I asked her if there were any songs she'd like me to sing. She nodded yes, but didn't volunteer one, so I began to sing "You Are My Sunshine" very softly in her ear, stroking her hair and holding her very close. After I was done singing it twice, I looked at her and saw that she looked very calm, and not one tear had fallen.
I can't even describe to you the fulfillment I felt in calming that little girl down and holding her close to me. I sang that song for a while after that, and even on the bumpy boat ride back to the shore, she almost fell asleep on my lap while listening to me hum it.
On the way back, I pointed out the different rocks and told her that they looked like cheese because of all the holes in them. She giggled and smiled and it was as if the incident of almost crashing had never happened.
Someday I want to be a mom. Even if I don't get the dream job I've always wanted or get to live where I really want, I want to be able to be called 'Mom' by my own child and take care of him/her because of how much love and joy I feel when I do it. How I am making a difference by being the best mom I can be.
As sappy and maternal as this all sounds, this is what I want to be. I want to be the fun, quirky, comforting, and caring mom. And once I find the perfect guy, I will make it my goal to be the best mom ever when I have kids.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Vampires
I watched an anime series the other night about vampires. It was about a girl whose family consisted of vampires. She, on the other hand, has a disorder where she has massive nosebleeds, and she injects the blood into her victims before she has the bleedouts. Her blood multiplies and she is constantly embarrassed because of her disorder. She meets a human boy who, for some strange reason, causes her blood to multiply twice as fast as it usually does. They end up becoming friends, but she has many nosebleeds in front of him. Eventually, she starts liking this boy, but she cannot tell him her secret or her family will kill him. It is an interesting story and it led to me thinking about a reversal in roles where there is a couple, one of them hunting vampires for a living and the other being a vampire.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Reading The Grapes of Wrath
Since reading the book, The Grapes of Wrath, I've thought about what it would have been like if I had lived in that time period. How would I have survived as an immigrant back then, and how would it have affected my family? The imagery of the book is very beautiful, and I think being a person living in those hard times with no food or money would give me so many reasons to keep going. The immigrants were despised back then, and even though the work that was given barely paid anything at all, they would do it in order to feed their children. It's admirable and such a touching story. But then I think, What if I didn't have family with me? What if there were people who would give up instead of being determined enough to survive?
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Storytelling 101- Sibling Rivalry
I was the spoiled type of only child who played the cutesy act and got away with absolutely everything. My mom would often fret about this, but my cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents doted on me so much that her words were lost in the presents and loving words they bestowed upon me.
But when I was just two years old, my brother Sam was born. The attention was split equally between the two of us, but since one of the few words I understood was ‘want’, I found that I could only want more attention than Sam at all times. From then on, I took every opportunity I could to sabotage him and make him look like the bad kid.
The story that my mother tells the most about that time of sibling rivalry is when I colored on the wall when I was merely four years old, pinning the blame on two-year-old little brother.
My brother followed and did whatever I said when we were younger, and idolized me. I knew that he loved me and now that I am older I feel bad about the way I treated him. But I can’t change what happened all those years ago so I try not to think of how much of a little demon I was back then. After all, we can only learn from our mistakes, right?
Sam couldn’t speak yet, and I quickly turned that to my advantage that day in the playroom. I had my box of twenty-four Crayola crayons, which I dumped on the floor. Sam sat down, his diaper cushioning his fall, and stared as I took one crayon in each hand.
He watched as I furiously began to scribble jagged and curly lines across the white wall of the playroom. After going at the wall for about five minutes, I stepped back to admire my handiwork with a smile. I turned to my brother, who still sat on the floor looking up at me with a curious look in his eyes.
I gave him an overly-sweet smile and stuffed the two crayons in his hands. He looked at them for a moment before beginning to suck on the one in his right hand. Perfect, I thought to myself. Now I just need….
“Moooooooomm!!! Mom! Mom!” I yelled, running all over the house screaming for my mother.
“What?” she came out of the kitchen with her apron on, looking worried and frazzled.
“Sam colored on the wall!” I blurted out, pointing down the hallway to the playroom.
Her expression went from worried to ‘oh no’ in a fraction of a second before she took off towards the playroom to see the damage done by her precious little boy.
When she entered the room and saw Sam clutching the crayons in his grubby baby hands, an attempt to recreation of Van Gogh’s early work etched onto the wall, she gave a sigh. Sam didn’t understand what was going on, but when his hand was slapped and he was taken to the pantry to be given a spanking, he knew he was in trouble.
I could hear him cry from all the way down the hallway, and I smiled with satisfaction. Yes, I know I was an awful little girl. If that wasn’t enough, I repeated this act about three times before my mom caught on to my scheme.
For the fourth time that day, I scribbled on the wall. I put the crayon in Sam’s hand before heading out to find my mom again.
But when I got to the door, my mom was towering over me, her arms crossed. She had been spying on me through the crack of the door between the playroom and the hallway. All I said was, “Uh-oh.”
“Yeah, ‘uh-oh’,” she said with a nod. For all the spankings my brother received, I got it ten times worse.
Although I didn’t try to get my brother in trouble (more than once anyway, learning that a trick was likely to be discovered after being attempted more than twice), I constantly waited for him to get in trouble or tattled whenever I could.
Luckily, I got over the sibling rivalry, and my brother and I ended up getting along for a few years before we grew apart again because of gender differences during adolescence. So I guess my point is: try to get along with your brothers or sisters because even though you might be an attention hog or a spoiled brat, at least your siblings will try to see past that because they’re forced to love you anyway by your parents.
But when I was just two years old, my brother Sam was born. The attention was split equally between the two of us, but since one of the few words I understood was ‘want’, I found that I could only want more attention than Sam at all times. From then on, I took every opportunity I could to sabotage him and make him look like the bad kid.
The story that my mother tells the most about that time of sibling rivalry is when I colored on the wall when I was merely four years old, pinning the blame on two-year-old little brother.
My brother followed and did whatever I said when we were younger, and idolized me. I knew that he loved me and now that I am older I feel bad about the way I treated him. But I can’t change what happened all those years ago so I try not to think of how much of a little demon I was back then. After all, we can only learn from our mistakes, right?
Sam couldn’t speak yet, and I quickly turned that to my advantage that day in the playroom. I had my box of twenty-four Crayola crayons, which I dumped on the floor. Sam sat down, his diaper cushioning his fall, and stared as I took one crayon in each hand.
He watched as I furiously began to scribble jagged and curly lines across the white wall of the playroom. After going at the wall for about five minutes, I stepped back to admire my handiwork with a smile. I turned to my brother, who still sat on the floor looking up at me with a curious look in his eyes.
I gave him an overly-sweet smile and stuffed the two crayons in his hands. He looked at them for a moment before beginning to suck on the one in his right hand. Perfect, I thought to myself. Now I just need….
“Moooooooomm!!! Mom! Mom!” I yelled, running all over the house screaming for my mother.
“What?” she came out of the kitchen with her apron on, looking worried and frazzled.
“Sam colored on the wall!” I blurted out, pointing down the hallway to the playroom.
Her expression went from worried to ‘oh no’ in a fraction of a second before she took off towards the playroom to see the damage done by her precious little boy.
When she entered the room and saw Sam clutching the crayons in his grubby baby hands, an attempt to recreation of Van Gogh’s early work etched onto the wall, she gave a sigh. Sam didn’t understand what was going on, but when his hand was slapped and he was taken to the pantry to be given a spanking, he knew he was in trouble.
I could hear him cry from all the way down the hallway, and I smiled with satisfaction. Yes, I know I was an awful little girl. If that wasn’t enough, I repeated this act about three times before my mom caught on to my scheme.
For the fourth time that day, I scribbled on the wall. I put the crayon in Sam’s hand before heading out to find my mom again.
But when I got to the door, my mom was towering over me, her arms crossed. She had been spying on me through the crack of the door between the playroom and the hallway. All I said was, “Uh-oh.”
“Yeah, ‘uh-oh’,” she said with a nod. For all the spankings my brother received, I got it ten times worse.
Although I didn’t try to get my brother in trouble (more than once anyway, learning that a trick was likely to be discovered after being attempted more than twice), I constantly waited for him to get in trouble or tattled whenever I could.
Luckily, I got over the sibling rivalry, and my brother and I ended up getting along for a few years before we grew apart again because of gender differences during adolescence. So I guess my point is: try to get along with your brothers or sisters because even though you might be an attention hog or a spoiled brat, at least your siblings will try to see past that because they’re forced to love you anyway by your parents.
Monday, September 17, 2007
Dream Creature
As I stared at the creature before me, I realized that I had seen it before. I didn’t know exactly what you would call it, but it appeared to be a spider-like bird. It was the size of a raven and its multiple eyes were that of a spider’s, black and beady. When I looked closer, I saw with some intrigue that the eyes, as spider-like as they were, had a few distinct characteristics of an animal. The eight eyes had a film of bright water over them and were watchful and understanding even though they were pitch black. I gasped at the reaction it stirred within me, but the creature made no indication that it wished to move away. All over its small body were sleek black feathers that ended in clawed bird feet. Dark brownish-black spidery hairs sprouted from its stick legs, causing me to shiver slightly. Lastly, instead of tail feathers, multiple fingerlike growths, resembling the rubbery body of a tarantula, spread like a fan on the tail of the creature. A few feathers the color of the spider hairs peppered the eerie tail, which vibrated slightly as it ruffled its feathers lightly.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Venture #2 | Rayla Gomez
She raced down the paved canyon trail, the wind warring with her now-tangled mass of hair. Where to hide, where to hide, she thought over and over. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest as her eyes darted from side to side, forward and back.
“Alissa! Where are you?” a distant voice called. Alissa looked back to where it came from. Bright pastel blue bore into her eyes and the sun’s rays drenched her and soaked into the black pavement beneath her. She turned her attention to the expanse of burnt-looking trees with spots of green atop the red mountain, and it made her feel like she could honestly get away with so much space around.
She turned back to the trail ahead and jogged to the left side of the trail. As slowly as she could, she descended the riverbank until she could feel the wet from the mud seeping into her Converses. Looking down, she saw muddy strands of river grass swaying and dancing to the water’s steady hum as it travelled around the riverbank’s bend.
“Alissa!” The voice was above her now. She backed up as far as she could against the dirt walls on both sides of the river, shivering at the damp cold of the dirt and the tickle of the tree roots brushing along her neck. Turning her head to the side and placing her cheek against the wall, she saw a solitary leaf on one of the tiny roots move to the rhythm of her panting breath.
She listened as hard as she could, moving her feet slightly so they wouldn’t get wet anymore than they already were. Alissa’s hands lay flat against the wall as she stood perfectly still. The only sounds were that of the river and wind, and the hard thump of her heart which she urged to stay quiet.
As she began to relax, she took a deep breath and looked around. If she head up the river more then she could avoid anyone finding her. She began to edge her way along the river, but before she could take two steps, a hand caught her by the shoulder.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!!!” Alissa screamed. She lost her balance and fell into the river, the water soaking her from the waist down.
Laughter came from above her and she sighed in exasperation. “Did you really have to get me all wet?” she asked.
“Well, it made my day. Not only are you It, but your butt is soaked. Now it’ll be harder for me to hide from you ‘cause I’ll be laughing so hard at all the people walking up the trail staring at you. So, in all fairness, you should be thanking me,” the other girl said with a smile.
“Thanks, Nicky,” Alissa said, rolling her eyes.
She dragged herself out of the water before chasing Nicky back up the riverbank, racing down the trail where the home base was.
Venture #2
The webbing of the branches stretches across the distant red-and-green speckled face of the mountain. Dark, burnt-looking trees adorned with the greenest leaves dot the rusty red of the mountain. The backdrop is pastel blue and almost blinding after being in the subtle shade of the trees. Almost as if there were stars in the sky on this cloudless day, the particles begin to settle behind my eyelids after the dazzling colors begin to fade.
Muddy strands of river grass sway and dance to the river's steady hum as they bend to drink, some being swept away by its force. The cave of green and yellow-green fall clothing surrounds and encloses the river, which wears a path right through the enemies it feeds. The large rock pinned down by its own weight sits at the bottom of the riverbed and, having been smoothed over by the water's constant onslaught, creates a tiny waterfall that makes white, bubbling splashes around the rock. The sun-tanned water causes millions of of mirrors to spring up, only to move and glimmer like fish scales the next second.
The solitary leaf on a wind-swept and gnarled oak tree blows in the slight breeze, only to be blown in the opposite direction from a warring wind. Its sits at the very end of the stemming branch near the ground that sits at an upward-slanted angle. For fear of touching the millions of scattered stones and dirt clods on the ground, it lets a caterpillar eat to lighten its already light-as-a-feather load. It soars higher now in the breeze, reaching for the sky it will never grasp.
Muddy strands of river grass sway and dance to the river's steady hum as they bend to drink, some being swept away by its force. The cave of green and yellow-green fall clothing surrounds and encloses the river, which wears a path right through the enemies it feeds. The large rock pinned down by its own weight sits at the bottom of the riverbed and, having been smoothed over by the water's constant onslaught, creates a tiny waterfall that makes white, bubbling splashes around the rock. The sun-tanned water causes millions of of mirrors to spring up, only to move and glimmer like fish scales the next second.
The solitary leaf on a wind-swept and gnarled oak tree blows in the slight breeze, only to be blown in the opposite direction from a warring wind. Its sits at the very end of the stemming branch near the ground that sits at an upward-slanted angle. For fear of touching the millions of scattered stones and dirt clods on the ground, it lets a caterpillar eat to lighten its already light-as-a-feather load. It soars higher now in the breeze, reaching for the sky it will never grasp.
Friday, August 31, 2007
2020 Class Blog
I had a dream that I was a criminal who was turning her life around after a run-in with old enemies. These enemies were a brother and sister who were about twenty-two to twenty-three years old. About ten years back, I had taken almost everything from them because of an old grudge, such as seen in a cheesy evil villain/good guy kind of movie. I happened to come across them a few years later but still kept up my old appearance of the bad guy. I did this by following them out of curiosity and seeing them get kidnapped by a forty-or-so clean-shaven man. He had tied them up in the harbor and left them in a raft. A storm was beginning to brew at that time. The sky was gray, the clouds swirling into threatening rainclouds, and the ocean waves looked uncertain. Rain was already spilling in buckets, and the lightning drew my eyes to the brother's and sister's faces. Their eyes were wet, whether from rain or tears, I did not know. Their mouths were bound shut through the ragged bandanas knotted around their heads. I felt real compassion for the two when I saw the fear in their eyes, but when they finally saw me, I had already masked over my apathy with my old cruel gaze which they had seen many times before. I couldn't understand myself. Why was I pretending to be the awful person I used to be? Hadn't I changed for a reason? And wasn't that reason important enough not to hide in front of the two people I had hurt the most during those regrettable years? After the man shoved their small yellow raft into the impending storm, I turned around and stalked back to where my apartment was, nearly a block away. Before I could take even five steps, I saw a small huddled mass next to the boat rental stall. I could barely hear her sobs over the pounding of the rain, but when I heard the names she was repeating, I realized what I had just done. I went up to their little sister and picked her up without a word. She didn't fight me but she didn't stop crying either. I still did not look back to where the brother and sister were probably on their way to certain death. When I stepped into my apartment, I set the girl down on my couch and threw a wool blanket over her shivering body. I went into the next room and turned on the television, holding off the nausea as long as I could. All of the sudden, I realized that I was letting people die that I could still save. I leaped up from my seat, turned off the television, and bolted for the door. The little girl, however, was standing in front of the door, which was opened a crack. She was giggling and smiling the biggest smile I had ever seen. Her tear-streaked face didn't dull her smile in the least, but after losing her brother and sister, I didn't see how she could be smiling. She said happily, "There's a visitor for you." I didn't say anything but opened the door the rest of the way. Instead of feeling the utmost joy for whom I had been waiting for for so long, I felt a thrill of fear throughout my entire body. Standing in the door was the metallic man who was not human in the least. An eerie feeling crept into my body, as if my thoughts were suddenly not my own. I stood there open-mouthed, silent, cautious. The little girl kept giggling. The man suddenly took two of my fingers in a vice-like grip in hard, cold, metal-like fingers. He dragged me into the kitchen, but before I could say anything, the little girl skipped up to the man and pressed a button on his chest. The red button lit up, and I realized that she was recording our upcoming conversation.
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