Thursday, February 14, 2013
Past and Present Story
The instructions are to write at least 500 words (between today and tomorrow), starting in the present moment, going back to some moment in the past, and then returning to the present. In this way, both past self and present self are revealed in a very short space. It can be autobiographical or fictional. Due at the end of the period on Friday.
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During a certain year far off in the future a boy is about to ask out his crush out on Valentine’s Day. In the future all of the technology has been increased and everyone is living in the computer age but the sappy feelings and gifts on Valentine’s Day have not really changed at all. The usual balloons, chocolate, stuffed bears, and flowers are the still the item that every girl wants and every guy has to give out to make their special girl happy. The boy’s name is Cole and he was not the most popular guy in his school but he was pretty well known for all the sports he played in. Cole like a girl in his grade for a long time and they talked all the time and everyone in the school knew about it and would constantly make fun of them and tell them they should be together. The girl he liked was named Rose and she was not head cheerleader or the best looking girl in school she was just your average sweet next door type girl. Cole has wanted to make things official for a while but he gets really nervous before he asks the question and will change the subject when he is with her. Rose is not much better when it comes to the talks of relationships, she gets just as nervous as Cole and changes the conversation just as much. Both of them like each other and want to be together. This valentine’s Day would be the day Cole would ask the questions. He bought a life sized teddy bear, chocolates, and roses for Rose and he plans to ask her at the end of the day when they are at their lockers. This date was special for Cole because it would mark the one year passing of his grandfather who played a major part in his life when Cole was younger. The memories of sitting there on a summer day with his grandpa are still fresh in his mind. Cole’s grandfather was a true man and would yell at Cole for being a girl for not asking out this girl he liked so much. Cole knew this and it was a major factor in why he was going to ask her out on Valentine’s Day. Cole thought that maybe if his Grandpa was watching he could maybe help him and give him the courage to finally go through with it this time. Finally the end of the day came and Cole was able to keep his plan a secret from everyon, he had hid all the gifts in his car so no one would know. He ran out to his car as the bell rang grabbed the gifts and ran back in the back door of the school. As he looked down the hall way he saw Rose standing at her locker that was next to his and was looking for him. Cole then got nervous again and was ready to leave when he heard a voice in his head. It was his grandpas and it triggered a memory that Cole forgot about one day when his grandpa was telling him about how he needs to ask the girl out. It brought him back to the exact place and time in his mind. His Grandpa asked him if he liked any girls and Cole being young at the time said no because he was not interested in girls. His Grandpa then told him that one day he would find a girl that he really liked and he would want to ask her out. Cole listened very closely to his Grandpa when he said that no matter what always ask the girl out first cause that’s what men do and any other way is garbage. Then the flashback ended and Cole was back in the school and finally had the courage to ask her out. He gave Rose all the gifts and finally he asked her out and she said yes and on that day Cole walked a little taller because he felt that he had made his Grandpa proud and he had the girl he had always wanted.
ReplyDeleteI am a soldier, on the front lines. This trench is my bed, my kitchen, my toilet, and it may end up being my grave. My rifle is my friend and my protector, she is the only reason I am still alive. I work to keep it clean of mud and make sure she still fires. I have been given a scope and told that I will be taking out German troops at long distance. I was scared at first because I’ve seen many snipers being shot in the head while they were looking for troops to kill. After my first few shots though, I warmed up to this and I wasn’t as scared anymore. Just as I was about to get my twentieth kill, looking at the man’s face before I pulled the trigger, I thought of one of the first enemy I remember I killed. It was during a large infantry charge, the Germans were able to break through our lines and we had to fix bayonets to fight them off. I was firing blindly around the corner of the trench, I heard screams but I didn’t kill anyone. Then one of my friends ran around the corner where I was taking cover, he didn’t make it two inches before he was shot to pieces. I saw him fall there, his face in an unchanging portrait of pain. I pointed my gun around the corner and squeezed the trigger. I think I killed someone but I never knew. I could hear the Germans advancing closer to my position, so I had to run to find better cover. I was scared and covered in the blood of my friends, my ears were ringing from the explosions of the arterially shells. I eventually made it to another corner just as they reached the last position I was at. I only saw a few enemy troops before they shot at me. I heard a barbaric scream, that only meant one thing for me, they were charging my position. I shot around the corner again; I heard one scream with pain. I had no idea how many more were still charging my position, so I racked another round in my gun and shot again. I heard another scream and went to chamber another round in my rifle. The bolt was all the way back when the German reached me. He went to stab me, but I parried his rifle, I pulled my gun back and shoved the bolt forward. I pulled the trigger but he knocked my rifle off to the side so I missed the shot. He went to stab again, I tried to parry him again but he knocked my rifle to the ground. I thought I was about to die, so I tackled him to the ground, I kept pounding on his face until it was just a mess of blood. I picked up my rifle and stabbed him again and again and again, until I was certain he was dead. I would never forget that man’s face. I can see him looking at me out of the corner of my eye as I am looking at this enemy soldier through my scope. I squeezed the trigger and the enemy soldier fell to the ground, and now his face will haunt me in my dreams.
ReplyDeleteGoing from day to another and thinking about someone else is hard but easy to think about. The story I’m about to tell you is a real story and nothing would be faked, this really happened with a person that I know and my friendship with him is strong hope you enjoy my story. A nice beautiful sunny day I was with a girl walking around the park. The sun was out the birds are singing, the grass was dark green, and the park was peaceful and quite. I went with the girl and I lay down on the grass. As soon as I lay on the grass holding the girls hand a flashback came to me and my eyes got watery. I went back to a time where I was with the girl of my dreams the one that made me smile the one that was always by my side through thick and thin. One beautiful sunny day I went to the park with the girl that I was with for two years. I and she lay on the grass and we were holding hands looking at the blue sky and just talking to one and another. That day will never be forgotten. The park was as peaceful as if the earth had no one standing on it or living in it. I lying down with this girl now reminded me of the first girl I fell in love with and the one that was like my best friend. But she moved on and I moved on but every time I come to a park and sit here in the summer or on a sunny day I get flashbacks of her and she pops in my head. Me sitting down with a girl that likes me but I don’t feel the same way about her but I want the girl I thought of to be mine. The first love I thought about always made me smile and she always knew how to make me happy. I can’t forget about her even if I’m here lying down with another girl and holding hands. The tears that drop from my eyes aren’t fake they are true tears because I missed the girl and I want to be with her but she moved on and I went ghost to her. “The clock could stop ticking but the earth would keep moving” The best thing to do is to let the person go and let the memories flow. No need for sadness because of one person if one person leaves you; that means they don’t care about you and they are not thinking about you. Everyone should have someone in their life that cares and will do anything for them. If it’s time to let a person go, its time.
ReplyDeleteNow and then I think of how much I enjoy living my life. Today feels like it is going to be a good day no matter what happens. I’m seventeen years old, and like any other individual who is seventeen likes to go to the mall. I enjoy doing that kind of stuff with my friends. But tomorrow, on that day nine years ago, something happened to me that changed the way I look at life and how I live it. When I was eight years old, my dad and I went to the State Fair in the Meadowlands, by the then Giants Stadium. My mom took my brother, who was five at the time, to see the first Spiderman movie. My dad and I wanted to spend quality time together so my dad decided that going to a fair would be fun for me and great way to spend quality time together. The car ride took a little while to get to the fair, but it was worth the anticipation. When we finally arrived at the fair, the first thing we did was get food. After that, we went on Crazy Mouse; the amazing ride that whips and jerks you around like a madman. When the ride ended, my dad and I started to walk toward to some bizarre tent that had a two headed snake. While we were walking to the tent, my dad and I drifted from each other. We weren’t holding hands, and we were both looking in opposite directions as we were walking. So dad and I drifted apart from each other and ended up in different places. I didn’t have a phone, since I was only eight years old. Dad didn’t have one either, at the time he thought electronics were dumb. Anyway, we got separated and I was terrified. I was in a big place that I have never been to before, my dad was not with me, and I had no way of getting in contact with him. When I stopped walking and realized I wasn’t at the bizarre tent, I started to panic. I ended up at the dunk-tank with a scary clown who was getting dunked. I hate clowns, and I was now alone with one. I turned around in a big circle and found my dad nowhere in sight. Tears were beginning to form in my eyes when I realized my dad was not by my side. I looked all round, but didn’t leave the spot I was standing in, figuring it would be easy if I stayed in one place. Looking at the clown, I cried hard. When I glanced up and scanned the scene, I found my dad standing about 100 feet away from me, waving his hand, signaling me to go to him. I calmed down immediately and walked over to him. Now with me being older, I don’t look around at every little thing when I’m at a place I’ve never been to. It is easy to get lost or separated from anybody. Since I am mature, I don’t have as a crazy mind. I am more aware of my surroundings, and I know to not panic. My dad since that day told me to never panic, because panic kills.
ReplyDeleteI am someone who gets everything they wish for. I don’t work for anything. It’s just snap of a finger and I get them. I ask my mommy and daddy and they run to go get them. I never had to ask for anything. Now look at me I have to do everything myself without any help. This is my parents fault though. They did everything for me and I didn’t have to do anything. They taught me that everything I wanted was just ask mommy and daddy. Now look at me I can’t even wash my clothes. I didn’t know that you had to separate whites from colors. I didn’t know that the colored clothing would begin to rub off on the white clothing. No one ever told me. My parents started this when I was about five or six.
ReplyDeleteI was five and I was on the trampoline playing. I was with my best friend Carmen. We had finished playing and we decided to go to the pool. We changed and spent about an hour playing around. Since we were very energetic we decided to play basketball. After the game we got thirst and hungry. We went inside to get ice tea. I got the powder and she got the pitcher. I poured the water in the pitcher and then when the pitcher was almost full I put it on the counter. I forgot that I needed to turn off the water and the sink was clogged that week. So we put the powder and mixed it together. Then when the ice tea was finished we walked out to the backyard with cups. We laid down and I forgot all about the water running. When I came in the whole floor was covered with water. I went outside and called my friend in and we ran to the bathroom. We grabbed the toilet paper and ran to the kitchen. I crawled my way to the end of the kitchen while my friend stayed. She held the toilet paper and I brought it over to the other side and when I reached the end of the room I laid it down. I was prepared for this so I had another roll of toilet paper with me and I put the end to the floor and rolled it over to my friend. We continued that until the floor was filled with toilet paper. When we finished my parents walked in and turned off the running water and cleaned up the floor. Later on my parents had a talk with me that all I had to do was ask them and they would get it for me.
Now that I’m in college I don’t even know how to cook. How am I supposed to eat. My friends said they would stop cooking for me. My parents are in Italy and I don’t feel like calling them just to cook for me. Also all my clothes are dirty and I can’t wash my clothes. I guess I’m going to have to walk around smelly. This isn’t my fault. My parents should have just scolded me and I should have learned from my mistakes. Now look at me I don’t know how to do ANYTHING by myself. This going to be a hard world to live in.
Today is St. Valentine’s Day and it feels just like any other day. I’m seventeen years old and this holiday seems to get more boring as I get older. Valentine’s Day back in elementary school were the best! There were no dates, relationships, and real effort being put in. Teenagers and adults in today’s society take Valentine’s Day way too seriously, in my opinion. Boys have to stress about what to get their girlfriends or whoever they made their Valentine for that year. I never remembered it that way, I liked it better when I was younger.
ReplyDeleteIt was snowing on February 14, 2003 and I was seven years old, on my way to school. I remember how Mommy used to bundle be all the way up to my neck! She put me in my pink mittens, with my pink hat and scarf to match. In my Scooby Doo backpack, she put candy and cards for all of my classmates at school. When I got to school, my teacher Ms. Greene decorated the entire classroom in pink and red hearts and banners with ribbon. It was so pretty and we all had to wear a color that signified Valentine’s Day. It wasn’t a regular day back then, maybe because I remember not learning on that day. We did projects the entire day, that we hung up or either took home to our parents. My mother was always my Valentine and to this day she still is. We always had this special relationship for Valentine’s Day alone. Now, she always assumes that I have Valentine’s Day plans with other people, and that’s not the case. I always try to make plans for her, I can celebrate Valentine’s Day on the day after with someone else. She would take me out for ice cream in the snow, it didn’t matter, she would buy me a card with candy every year. I miss this, maybe because that has faded and I got a lot older. Next year I plan on starting that back up again, considering the fact that I’ll be 18. I’m going to reverse everything and take her out and do all the cute things for her. I don’t want to break that mother daughter tradition that we took years to build.
I just really liked Valentine’s Day when I was little, I actually looked forward to it. I don’t even look forward to holidays that much anymore, unless it’s Thanksgiving. Now Valentine’s Day is a joke to me. Teenagers take it overboard and treat Valentine’s Day like Christmas and act like they’re married. I mean there nothing wrong with showing the one you love attention, but why so much on one day out of the year? I see Valentine’s Day as just another regular day. If I loved yesterday, I love you the same the next day. I guess I just grew out of the high spirits of holidays, in general. They aren’t special or important to me anymore, they all lost their meaning in one way or another. Just like Christmas, although I don’t celebrate it, children don’t even know the real meaning behind it anymore, they just look forward to gifts. It’s sad, and when I was little, I knew the story. Kids now and days are so ungrateful and ignorant when it comes to certain things. I guess I’ve matured over the past years and can now see what’s important and how things have changed in my eyes.
All the fans and all of the flashing lights in my face get just a little hectic once in a while. Even though I love the attention from the media and having fans asking for my autograph, I sometimes miss when I was in high school. It was easier back then, I had no worries in life, my only worry was just graduating and making something of myself. That was the biggest challenge for me. My rise to fame wasn’t as easy as one may think it is. I can look back and remember how my search for fame began…
ReplyDeleteIt was the end of my sophomore year in high school, I haven’t really sung out to my full potential yet so nobody really knew what I was capable of. I found the greatest opportunity to showcase my talent, and what other great way to show it then to participate in the student show case in the spring. I had everything set up perfectly, I had my little black dress on, my hair was in a ponytail, my makeup was on point, and the guy I loved was in the audience. It was possibly the most nerve racking performances I’ve ever given, and it’s so funny because I’ve performed in front of millions, but I was so ready to wow this crowd. I was sitting next to him and I was observing the other showcases, they were absolutely horrible. I felt bad for the people in the audience that had to sit through an hour of this. I was obviously the last performance because I believe in the saying ‘save the best for last.’ It was my turn to go up and I’m just standing in the wing of the stage and I’m listening for Ms. Piano to call me up, I feel the hairs on my arms rise, and a tingly feeling all over my body. My stomach is turning round and round and then I hear her call my name. I step out and I hear a roar of applause, I’m praying that the CD won’t fail me tonight. I make eye contact with Richard who’s sitting in the front row. He mouths ‘good luck’, and I’m ready to go. The music starts playing and I start singing, mind you, this was the most difficult song for me to sing at the time, but I killed it. I felt the hot lights on my body and my knees grew weak but I kept singing. I actually enjoyed that feeling, the feeling of having everybody look at me and just smile because I am filling their ears with beautiful music. I finished my song and I have this Broadway pose that I did which put the cherry on top to my song. I received a standing ovation. I have never received a standing ovation before. My face grew red and I couldn’t speak, the emotion of having people praise me like that made me speechless.
As I sit on my porch, overlooking the beautiful Pacific Ocean, I still get goose bumps thinking about that performance. Even though it was 10 years ago, I look back and just miss the days where my quest for fame began. I’ve made so many mistakes along the way, but I love where I am now and I wouldn’t take anything back.
I am sitting at my computer, thinking about what happened without fully understanding what actually occurred. To have everything right in front of you and then in a second, it is all gone. It just goes to show that you can have everything and then have nothing and there is nothing you can do about it. However, there comes to be a point where you can’t care about certain things anymore and you have to think about as if it never happened. Go back ten years, go back to when I was throwing my hardest and I had every scout in the country coming to see my game. I was number one in the rotation, the ace. No one on my team could touch my fastball and no one on the other teams could either, for that matter. It baffled some people and confused others. Some people thought there was inevitable greatness being grown within my ligaments and within my shoulder muscles; greatness that could only end up in one result; making it to the big leagues.
ReplyDeleteIt is a thought in every young boy’s mind the first time they watch a professional baseball game. They ask their father, who are those people on the television? How did they get there? The father answers them with a complete conversation about the minor league system and all of the hard work that it takes to get to the big leagues. But what that father won’t tell his son is the story of every player that almost made it, every high school legend that had no losses all the way through college and still fell short. It may not have been his fault and he couldn’t have been to blame for this outcome, but he still never made it. This is the category that most players fall into, literally. And that is exactly what happened to me. It was spring training and there was no one at the field besides me and a fellow pitcher, he was number two in the rotation. It was recognized that he had talent as well but it had been overshadowed by my performances. I couldn’t let the talent of others get in the way of my own aspirations. But that day, my aspirations went out the window along with the strength of my ligaments and the solidarity of my shoulder muscles. I threw a ball and I knew immediately. It was two torn ligaments in my shoulder. The pitcher I had been throwing with was thrust into the number one spot in the rotation and would later make it to the majors. As for me, my career ended. There was no hard work left to give. There wasn’t any more laps to run, and my little boy aspirations were crushed.
So I sit here at my computer, thinking about how things could have been different. The glory and honor of the big leagues, so close but still so incredibly far away from my reach. Instead of pitching in big games, I will be typing about them. But I can’t worry about it any longer because sometimes what you deserve you won’t get and what you get you don’t deserve. It’s just the way it happens because for some players they make it and some player, like me, fall into the category of “almost”.
It is a nice fall day. The air is still warm this September morning. The days go by faster now. I usually just sit outside and relax as the wind blows by. My young life was exciting and powerful. I fought in the army and lived a wild teenage life. But now, things are just so dull. Even if a meteor landed right on my front lawn, I would just brush it off and go back inside. Yes sir, things were great back in my day. I was born in 1995, that is a very long time ago for kids these days, and back then we had some of the greatest children’s shows growing up, better than the crap on TV now. Back to what I was talking about, I never liked school at all. I remember in elementary school me and my friends would always joke about ways we could break out of school, we were like seven and eight back then so it was all in good fun. Middle school was alright, my grades weren’t that good but I had a lot of friends. High school was great, I would always hang out with my friends and we would go to parties together. Those were some good years. After that I graduated high school and got a job at some store that I hated working at. The pay sucked, the people sucked, everything sucked. Then everything changed in 2019, the Iranian war broke out with Iran versus the U.S. I thought to myself, I really haven’t done anything good with my life so far, I’m still young, and I’m going to join the army. I passed all the tests to register, and then came the training, that was some tough stuff. Then I got sent out to the front lines. They put me right in the middle of the biggest battle of the whole war, the Battle of Tehran. The fighting was so bad that we had to fight from building to building; every floor was its own separate battle. People were falling left and right. Planes were flying over dropping bombs on the enemy. And the amount of gore I saw altogether in that war was unimaginable. Dead bodies littered the streets like pieces of newspaper on a city block. My best friend who I grew up with all my life was killed. I myself almost got killed, while fighting on the 5th floor of some apartment building; a militant came up behind me. I could have sworn that that was the end of me right there. Pictures flashed before my eyes of all the good times I had in my life. Then I heard one single gunshot, I turned around, and the militant was dead on the floor. There was nobody in the room either, I have no clue who that person was that saved my life that day, but I would give my life to find out. I came out of the war with some mental issues that I am still dealing with to this day. Sometimes o get woken up in the middle of the night remembering the atrocities I went through. Life has been good so far, after the war I got married and had three kids. But nothing will ever compare to my early years.
ReplyDeleteWalking down the aisle, one step after another. My fathers are looped around mine; it was every little girl’s dream. Standing before me was the love of my life. I could see a small bead of water trickle down his cheek. But it was not a sad tear, yet, a tear of joy. Today was our day. I kissed my father on the cheek and he returned to his seat in the pew. I looked into my man’s eyes and the memories came flooding back.
ReplyDeleteIt was a cold night in September and it was ladies night. My friends and I decided to do something a little different tonight. Usually we just go out to dinner and enjoy a drink together, but tonight we decided to take a train into the city and go to a fancy restaurant. As we waited on the train platform, a tall, slender man caught my eye. He was dressed in a white buttoned down shirt with a red tie. In his hand he held a briefcase. He turned towards the direction that the group and I were standing in and a smile light up on his face. I heard one of my friend shriek “Dan!” and she ran over to the man. After their brief reunion, she brought him over to the group and introduced him to us. She explained how they were friends in college but had since lost connection with each other. His eyes were as beautiful as his smile. As much as I was attracted to his charming good looks, and good choice in friends, I had just recently broken up with a boyfriend and I was not really looking for anyone. He ended up coming out with us that evening. He was charming, polite, handsome, and had a great sense of humor. We immediately clicked. It was the night I met my future husband.
Now I stand at the altar, staring into that same man’s eyes. The eyes that I met at the train station one September night. Behind him stood his four best friends, all dressed in suits with a daisy pinned to their jacket. Behind me stood my best friends, all dressed in their yellow bride’s maids dresses. Our family was there to support us. I looked out into the crowded church and saw tears mixed with smiles. Returning to the eyes of my lover, I knew that I was in the right place. Dan offered me security. He had the ability to make me feel better when I was sad. He offers me a future. He is the man that I want to spend the rest of my life with. If it was not for that change in plans that night in September, then I might not be standing here today. Or I would be standing here with someone other than Dan. Maybe I did a good deed that day and God repaid me with bringing Dan into my life. We will never know, but we don’t need to know the answer to every question.
After leaving this town for six years, I return today. The people here treat me with bitter words. Everyone in this town knows my mom, and they treat me harshly because of it. Walking on the street, I can hear the whispers and feels the stares. In school, I am the target to not only the students, but the adults too. They hate my mom for what she did six years ago, and since my mom is dead, they transfer their hatred to me. Believe me; I would not have move back here if I did not have too, but I do not have a choice.
ReplyDeleteMy dad died when I was an infant, and all of my grandparents are dead too. My mom has a brother, and after my dad died, my mom and I lived with my uncle and his family. Now, even my uncle’s family hates me. I still live with them though, but we do not talk anymore. It is basically like a landlord and renter relationship, except I do not have to pay and they give me food. Every time I enter the dining room, they greet me with penetrating gazes fill with loath and disgust. This makes me remember what happened six years ago like the scenes are playing right in front me.
My mom was a chemistry teacher at the local high school. She always experimented with chemicals, allowed or not. She knew what she was doing and made sure it was safe. It was a windy day in August, and there was a fair at the college, celebrating its one hundred year anniversary. My mom researched a new experiment and stayed in the college to try it out. Everything that she was using was flammable, and she had to use the Bunsen burner.
I went to the school festival to visit my oldest cousin and my mom. I asked her to come with me to the fair. She made sure to turn the Bunsen burner off and unplug the hoses, but she forgot to turn off the gasoline. The gasoline and the chemicals created a big explosion. People who were at least fifty yard from the chemistry room survived, but the ones who were close did not. Luckily, I and my mom were outside the building, so we did not get killed; however, my oldest cousin, who went there for college, died. That accident killed around fifty people. My mom lost her teaching license. Townsmen hated my mom for it, and there were paints on our door and dead animals in our mailbox. My uncle hated us for killing his oldest son. We had to move.
Now that I have returned, alone, all of the animosity for my mom turns to me. I am not yet eighteen so cannot move out, but I die once every day because I am constantly reminded of my mom’s cause and that I am the reason for it. If that day, I didn’t ask my mom to go to the fair with me, she would not have forgotten the gasoline, and none of this would be happening to me. I feel bad at first and try my best to help anyone in the town I could, but no one is grateful to me because of it. My regret turns into indifference in time. I have done enough to atone for my sin. Now, I am just waiting for the time to move out, and hopefully, leave this in the past.
There are none like me. Everyone has moved from Earth. Except me. I will perish soon for diseases are impossible to cure and there is no one else to accompany me. I am in solitude. But it’s better to die on my home than thrive on an alien world. There used to be many of us. We resisted the government and their offers to go with them. We continued our existence on Earth. But with no one to trade medicines and other necessities with, we have dwindled over the years. I’m the sole remainder. My best friend Melody died of a severe illness a few days ago. But I accepted her death and my fate. For a little while at least. But I can’t accept it anymore now that I’ve nearly broken the precious bracelet my dear Melody once wore proudly on her slender wrist.
ReplyDeleteToday I walk to her grave. And I am so lost in thought. Of her. Of my life. Of everything. That I almost trip over the jagged-edged black stone that l laid on top of her buried body. I hear the slight crunching of the golden metal that was propped up against the obelisk. But I quickly shift my weight when I feel the unevenness under my bare foot. My legs collapse and I fall to the ground, holding the treasure close to my heart and sobbing. But my tears stop flowing when I realize there is no ringing sound. I shake the bracelet but there is no noise. The tiny bell attached to the band always chimed its beautiful jangle whenever Melody so much as flicked her wrist. The sound reminded me of the happiness and friendship we shared. But now it has stopped. That short period of time under the weight of my foot for the minute bell. The reflective side has cracked and that beautiful sound would never enter my ears again. The sides used to shine like the eyes of my lost friend. But now they are dull. But not dull enough that I can’t see my own depressed and lonely face. I look intently at the glorious piece of jewelry and I think of the day Melody died.
I woke up and walked to her as I had been doing for the past week while she lied ill on her palm-leaf bed. She was looking much worse that day. That’s when I knew I would be alone soon, possibly that very day. But I never expected it would be in a matter of minutes. I wasn’t prepared and I wasn’t ready to let go. She beckoned me closer and whispered to me. We both cried and she apologized over and over again. She felt so bad that she would be able to die alongside her friend. But she and I both knew I would die all alone.
Melody told me something with her last dying breath. “It became impossible to repopulate when Gavin died. But that doesn’t mean we can’t still live. Live, Gena! I’m sorry I can’t be there when you die. But don’t let that day come any time soon. It will be hard. Being alone. But don’t let them have their way. Show them what it truly means to be an Earthbound!”
I look away from the bracelet. The memory stops playing through my head and my eyes water. But I do not cry. I stand and slip the bracelet over my own wrist and look at Melody’s grave. I smile at her and walk away. My new life begins.
The wind swirled through the visibly polluted air as Lucas looked out from the nearly collapsed pharmacy. The gas had never been explained. Maybe it was pollution from the destroyed factories, maybe it was a part of their chemical weapons. Who knows? All that anyone knew these days was never to go outside without a mask of some sort. Lucas touched the glass door as he watched his breath appear and disappear. It was calming, in a way. The other way, however, reminded him of how everything comes and goes at a rate we can’t control, including our lives. He rubbed the glass clean and turned back inside, back to his little base camp.
ReplyDeleteHe grabbed the poor excuse for a blanket that he had and wrapped it around himself as he nudged the fire he had going on the floor, trying to keep it aflame. He leaned over and grabbed some old magazines, flipping through them and tossing the ones he didn’t feel like reading onto the fire, which turned out to be all of them.
The fire was like a hypnotist to Lucas at this point. With the whole world gone and nothing but medication and old magazines from 2020 to keep him occupied, he could tell he was going insane. It was either live in the present hellhole the world had become, or retreat back…back to when the end began.
Lucas was at school when it started. It was his lunch period and he was sitting under a tree, writing the lyrics of a song he had been working on for the past few weeks. Some kids were playing football, others were playing soccer, and the kids who’d just seen the “Fight Club” remake were trying to be tough and fight on the basketball court. This was the only part he couldn’t remember. He remembered the smell of freshly cut grass, the bright shine of the sun, the rough bark of the tree against his back, but he couldn’t remember how it started. One minute he was alone in his own little world, then suddenly the panicked screams and shouts of teachers and students rattled his brain. From across the field, he could see a boy lying face down in the grass with at least one whole deck of bloody cards sticking out of his back. A man in a tuxedo and a fancy scarf stood over him, a beautiful woman in a short and sparkly red dress on his arm, both laughing maniacally. Lucas couldn’t believe what he was seeing, but the shouts of the people confirmed it. The Magician Apocalypse had begun.
People bolted for the school as more of the spiffy invaders emerged from the woods next to the field. Lucas had just finished shoving his things into his bag when the doors to the school swung open, the magician’s rabid bunnies taking down even the bulkiest of students. Lucas panicked, slinging his backpack over one shoulder and sprinting towards the road. Green puffs of smoke came from either side of him as the magicians were in hot pursuit. He’d almost made it to the street when-
A loud bang on the door startled Lucas, drawing his attention back to the pharmacy. He got up slowly, making his way cautiously towards the front of the building. He grabbed a rusty iron rod from the ground and held it above his head, ready to strike anything that broke through the glass. Making it to the door with no interruptions, he peered outside into the thick air. The glass shattered in a fraction of a second as Lucas felt the gnawing teeth of bunnies digging into his arms and legs as he toppled to the ground. He shook frantically, trying to get the snow-white beasts off of him while swinging the iron around wildly. He managed to get to his feet and shake the rabbits off who immediately ran out of the building. He sighed with relief and leaned over, trying to catch his breath. When he rose, he was met with the face of a man holding out a fanned out deck inches from his face.
“Pick a card.”
Tonight is senior night. I have been waiting for this for a week now and I have been freaking out about how it is almost the end of my senior season. Walking into the gym, taking a deep breath, and releasing the air. Looking around the gym, standing there speechless by what surrounded me. I began flashing my eyes in every direction searching for my banner. Finding it after a few seconds, my eyes were locked on it. Wiping my eyes, tears were forming in the corners of my eyes. The initials M.F.C. were starring back at me. All I can think about is the day that he died.
ReplyDeleteI was sitting in the gym with my dad and brothers, the basketball tournament was going on and we all had to help out. My mom was with Lenna in Connecticut, she was not expecting the call that she had gotten. My aunt had called my parents telling them that tonight was the night. My Uncle had been sick for 17 years and these last few weeks have been the worst. He was in the hospital for a week and half and they finally decided to bring him home so he could die as comfortable as possible. My dad told me the news and I sat there crying. Everyone was around me and I began to feel embarrassed for what I was doing. Everyone asked me if I was okay and what was going on, but I kept pushing them away. I did not want anyone near me or talking to me so I kept walking away. When my mom finally got home my dad, mom, and I went to my aunt’s house so I could watch my baby cousins while they all went to my other aunt’s house to see my uncle. I sat there trying to watch TV and trying to help my friend with his problem at the time, but my mind was in so many different places at once. My cousin whose father was dying came into the house to try and keep busy. We started talking about basketball and soccer and ate food, but all of that was ruined when my one uncle came in with red eyes. I could tell that he had been crying and I knew exactly what happened. A few minutes later my dad came in, sat down on the couch, and said “It’s over…” I began to bawl once more and this time I did not want to stop. I hugged my dad, told him I loved him, and kept crying. I turned my phone off as soon as it I gained enough control of my emotions and actions. I did not want to talk to anyone, I did not want anyone to bother me. I felt sad, mad, and sick all at once. It was the worst feeling I had ever felt in my life.
Standing in this gym, I felt that same feeling again. The emptiness filling the pit of my stomach was making me feel sick again.
PROGRESS SO YOU DON'T GIVE ME MORE ZEROS, MR. KUPIEC
ReplyDeleteThe world had changed so much since she was a child, but Georgia was still the same. It was exactly as her memories had preserved it. The air in July was hot and heavy. It pressed down on her, her chest and neck were moistened with sweat. She fanned herself frantically with a map. She had grown so accustomed to retreating into her air conditioned town house during the hottest months of the year that the heat pained her. The driver sitting at the wheel of the car was soaked with perspiration, but he didn’t seem as bothered by it.
“You come from ‘round here, miss? I ain’t seen you ‘fore. You come down here from Savannah?” The old man’s slow drawl called out to her as they traveled down the dirt road. She watched the sunlight peeking through the Spanish moss for a moment longer before she spoke.
“New Orleans, actually.”
“Whatchu comin’ all the way out to this damned place for?” He didn’t try to mask his shock for a second, this caught her off guard.
“I have a love for antebellum home. I wouldn’t dare pass up a chance at the Madison Estate.” Her voice was cold.
“Lord, miss. I don’t know what these people is tellin’ you but if you is lookin’ for a pretty house this ain’t your place.” He shook his head slowly. She dropped her manicured hands to her lap and folded them.
“What do you mean by that?”
“The ole’ Madison Estate burned down twenty years ago, ‘least. Burnt right down to the ground. All’s you got here is the land and the foundation. And the ghosts,” he looked at her face through the rearview mirror. “What they say is that Mr. Madison lost his wife to another man. Then he lost his mind. Kills his wife. Kills his children. Sets the house on fire.”
Past and Present story
ReplyDeleteI looked up at the sun, feeling its radiant beams of light on my skin. There were no clouds in the sky, which made the day even more perfect. Today felt just like that day so long ago. Days like these only remind me of her. Every year since my wife’s death I have come on top of this hill. This hill is really special to me because this was the same exact hill where I asked her to marry me.
It was a day just like that day. We were both young. She sat there with her brown hair flowing in the wind. She wore a blue dress as she sat down underneath the large oak tree. A red and white blanket laid on the ground underneath her with a wicker basket to her left. At that time there were people all around us playing and laughing. There was a couple that was walking their dog around a path. A group of kids were playing hide and seek amongst the various trees. Then there was just us. We sat there stationary while everyone around us was moving around. I had just graduated college at that time and was looking for a job. She already worked as a writer. Beside our little picnic was a little yellow lab that was only one year old. He sat their laying in the shade enjoying the beautiful day.
After we were done eating I reached into my pocket to pull out a black box. Inside was a simple wedding ring. Nothing special except that it was for her. I put all my pressure on one knee and proposed to her on top of that hill. She looked at me already half expecting it. She smiled at me and gave me a little nod and nothing else. I took the ring out of the box and slipped it on her small little finger. The sun began to reflect of the shiny metal. The little dog got up from his little spot and ran over to her finger. He began to sniff the ring since he had never seen it before. I cleared off the rest of the blanket and leaned back, pulling her with me. We held each other’s hands and looked into the clear blue sky.
I laid that same blanket on the ground. I put the same exact wicker basket that we used to carry our lunch that day as well. The shade of the tree covered it as I sat down on it. I looked around the hill to see people still playing and laughing. Little kids were still playing hide and seek. People still walked around on the paths with their dogs. Then there was just me. I quickly ate my lunch and soon took everything off the blanket. I lay down on the hill with the blanket underneath me. I stretched out my hand and imagined myself holding that same small hand I held those many years ago.
John, a lanky old man with a crick in his back lived all alone in his tall, lanky home with creaks in the floor boards. He had lived this way for years and years; not a thing had changed. Not a single piece of furniture had been moved for at least 35 years and not a single person knew whether the attic door was locked or not since it hadn’t been opened for what seems like eternity. In fact, not a single soul stepped foot in John’s residence for some time.
ReplyDeleteThere was no doubt that John was the crankiest of old men. He only stepped outdoors to collect mail and take trips to the store. He spat on those who came too close and grumbled under his breath consistently. Rumors circulated around the town of what caused the miserable creature that is Old Man John. They even reached the extremes that perhaps his old home was set on fire by Nazis or Communists or some evil group of the sort, killing his entire family and possessions, leaving him sad, alone and misunderstood.
One day, Old Man John sat solemnly on his old, sunken in blue couch reading the morning paper, grumbling at the bad news of the day. Suddenly, a few creaks and crackles came from above him. He pushed himself to move his stick neck to face his head upward to the unexpected sounds. A few more grumpy sounds escaped him as he pushed upward from the couch that pulled him in. As he climbed a creaky and narrow staircase, he realized that he sound had come from higher than the recently explored zones in his household. Somehow, something was making unpleasant rumbles in the untouched attic. What and how were questions that floated around the mind of the displeased old man.
John reached his shaky and frail hand forward to grab the untouched doorknob covered in dust and to his surprise, the door creaked open and cobwebs and decades of dust fell upon John. His coughs and waves of his arms were enough to push through the cloud as he ascended up the dark and daunting steps. The sounds of something scurrying through paper quickened as he approached the next floor. A string fell in his face and he grabbed it, turning on a lightbulb that was dimmed extremely by the coating of dust. Out of his grumpy old man eyes he saw nothing but a box, equally dusty. He had no recollection of this box, but it was clearly there and clearly moving.
His body stiffened as he crouched down to open the deteriorating box. Under the flaps on the cop of this cardboard cube, a small bat was reveals that quickly flapped its wings and escaped out of the small ajar window that let in almost no sunlight. After recovering from the shock, John reached in to pull out a photo album, but instead became interested in a neatly pressed piece of paper that fell out covered in black cursive.
“Dearest Jonathan,” it read.
To be continued…
Dear Diary,
ReplyDeleteI made a friend today. Her name is Mia. She took me to her brother’s soccer game.
I was sitting on the sharp blades of grass poked the back of my legs, as if trying to pierce holes into my skin.
“Go, Austin!” Mia was beside me, cheering on her little brother as he joined the other eight-year-olds running to kick the soccer ball. Everyone around me was standing up, cheering for the little soccer players, waving handmade posters or showing off creative dances.
Bridgeport is big on soccer, I guess.
“Charlotte, I know you’re new around here, but at these games, it looks a little weird if you just sit there, no offense,” Mia quietly teased as she bent down near me.
“Oh.” I began to stand up. “Sorry.” Once I was on my two feet, my legs suddenly felt weak. I felt dizzy. Tired. I could barely even look at the young soccer players. I thought I was over it when I first arrived to the game, but now I was questioning why I even came.
“It’s OK, Austin!” Mia jumped up and down when her brother missed a goal. Then, she turned to me. “You okay, Charlotte?”
I tried to smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.” I could hear the hollowness of my own voice.
“Charlotte, did you see me out there?” Blake asked me, holding a soccer ball with his small hands. We were walking on the sharp blades of grass together, across the field.
I looked at him for several seconds before answering. He had these big, blue eyes and messy blond hair. He had this vivacity about him that was totally expected of an 8-year-old, yet so refreshing at the same time. He fumbled with the soccer ball endlessly—first balancing it on his head, then juggling it on his knees. He laughed although nobody was talking—trapped in his innocent, little world. “Yeah, Blake I saw you,” I responded.
“Was I good? Were you proud of me?” he asked.
“Of course!” I playfully messed his hair. “Mom and dad were proud of you, too!”
Blake had this big, toothy grin on his face when I said that, and he began running ahead of me. “Race me to the car, Charlotte!”
“I can’t, Blake!” I was struggling to hold two fold-up chairs and a cooler already. Nonetheless, Blake never heard me, and he continued running away from me, giggling. I could see his dirty, red and white soccer uniform, flailing behind him. He became smaller and smaller in my vision until he was simply a red dot.
I continued to walk alone in peace.
A minute later, the peace was disturbed. “CHARLOOTTEEE!” a blood-curdling scream pierced the air. It sounded like my mom’s voice. “CHARL—” this time it cut off by whimpering. All around me, I began to see people running towards the street ahead. My heart was already racing, when I began to run, too.
My mother was kneeling on the ground, with her head in her hands. “Harold, did you call them? I said, did you CALL them?” My dad, who was next to her, never answered her question, but the nearby sounds of sirens did instead. A large crowd had formed in the street, including a car that was oddly still in the middle. I was too short to see what had happened, but my heart was beating out of my chest by now. I pushed my way through the crowd.
Blake was on the ground bleeding. He was lifeless. His eyes were shut. His soccer ball was missing. His shirt was slightly ripped.
“BLAKE!” I was screaming, kneeling down next to my brother. I just knew something was wrong. Something was so wrong. “BLAKE, WAKE UP! BLAKE!”
“Yay, Austin!” Mia jumped up and down with the rest of the crowd when Austin made a goal. I stood there. I couldn’t move. I felt like my legs were weak from running like they had five years ago when I heard my mother scream.
ReplyDeleteWe lived in a new place now. That was five years ago. I couldn’t stop remembering. I couldn’t stop thinking. I couldn’t stop the pain in my chest that made my heart throb and throb. It felt as if someone was squeezing the life out of me—or whatever was left inside me.
I was talking to Mia after the game today. She thinks I’m really lucky to be an only child. She says I’m lucky I don’t have to deal with a little brother like Austin all the time.
I might tell her about Blake and how he got hit by that car five years ago—maybe when I stop missing him so much. For now, I think I’ll stay away from soccer games.
Love, Charlotte.
The days are brighter now in every aspect. The everlasting burden was like a dense cloud embracing all that I was. The relationship haunted as an internal shadow. I remember the girl I was, a pathetic silhouette of what I am now. And I remember the day I left him, the day I was cleansed.
ReplyDelete“What if I just left, in the middle of the night?” I thought to myself. I took a look at my bruises that I previously ignored. I was convinced I haven’t lost enough to quit, but I have lost way too much. My pride, self-respect and honor are bound to his fist. I sat on the suddenly uncomfortable sofa, with a suitcase packed waiting by the door. Lapse and relapse is all I know, it is time to leave. “He’ll return soon, I thought.” I mentally prepared myself for the resentment of my decision. I cannot let up and go through this all again, it’s time to leave. What seemed like hours, but could have been minutes, I heard keys jingle outside which then led to his reveal. He noticed the suitcase as soon as he entered as well as my dismay.
“What’s wrong?” He kept asking. He must’ve been joking.
“I’m tired of cutting out my bruises and torturing myself. I am my own person and can choose whether or not I want to be part of this relationship, or not and any sane person would not want to be. You are abusive and need help. The final straw was the hospital.” He knew I was right but given his personality, would not let up until he got what he wanted. “I should’ve left in the middle of the night, back to California and never looked back. I couldn’t find it in my heart to run away, but the cards have changed to my hand and it feels good. I fantasied about it every single day, and now it’s time.”
“Please, oh baby, please, I can explain, it won’t happen again.” He desperately responded. I laughed it off because he has said that way too many times. My eyes are open now. The darkness that encased me has been broken and now to completely uncloak myself, all I need to do is walk out the door.
And that’s what I did, I got up and left. He tried to physically stop me, of course, but I managed to run and never look back.
“Wow, thank you for your insight on abusive relationships. Ladies and gentlemen, it’s important to note her strength. She went through a lot. All it takes is a little light in your life to realize the darkness, so talk to someone about your relationship if you think it’s abusive at all. Sometimes love blinds you and love can be as evil as pure. She found the strength to end it.”
It was a clear summer day,, and I had not a care in the world. I was at the beach, doing my morning run, which I usually never do, the breze in my face and my mind in a perfect state. I’m usually not a morning person, but this time, it didn’t feel like morning at all. I was filled with energy and excitement, but I hadn’t the slightest idea why. All I remember was that I was on vacation in the Outer Banks of North Carolina with my family and friends, and I usually would be asleep at this time. This morning though, strangely, I found my self running here on the beach. I didn’t even know whether or not it was morning. I was Lucky to even remember what I did. The sand did not feel at all hot, but the sun felt perfect on my shoulders. The waves were perfectly calm, and there was no sign of a rip tide or strong current. It was the beach scene I had always wanted to be in, which made it even more strange. Was this a dream? It didn’t feel at all like one;
ReplyDeleteAs I was running, I felt this strange urge that was almost pulling me from wherever I was. I tried to fight it at first, but it didn’t seem at all harmful. in fact, I felt it was something I was required to do, almost a task or something. So I surrendered and let myself be pulled, if you could call it that.
“I’m afraid she’s far from coming back to consciousness. There was no pulse and she wasn’t breathing. The CPR wouldn’t work, and her lungs are filled with water. It would be no use trying to empty them now, they’ve been filled for too long. I’m really sorry for your loss.”
I could see a group of familiar looking people standing in a hospital room over a bed, where a girl was lying motionless. She looked as if she had just drowned; her hair was soaked and her face had lost its color. It was quite a sight to see.
“It was my fault,” cried another girl. “I should have just pulled her out. I don’t know what to do right now! She just wouldn’t c-come!”
“There’s nothing you can do about it now, Cynthia,” a man was saying in a soothing tone. “She was a stubborn person, you know that. It wasn’t your fault.”
Now my confusion was getting worse. Why was I observing a scene of someone’s death? And why did these people look so familiar? What had that girl meant by “she wouldn’t come?” Where was I now? Most importantly, where was everyone I was on vacation with? Then, I remembered something; Cynthia. That was the name of my best friend, with whom I was spending the week. And those other people standing over the bed, their faces shocked and grief stricken, those were mine and Cynthia’s parents. That body lying in the bed, that was... mine! When I had come to realize this, everything else started to come back.
ReplyDelete“You comming, Cynthia,” I shouted to my best friend as I raced to the shore.
“i told you a million times,” Cynthia shouted back. “I’m not comming. I’m really tired, and I don’t really feel like losing my life in a rip tide!”
“Why don’t you take some wrisks for once,” I said, half jokingly, half disgusted. As I inched further and further into the water, I heard Cynthia panting as she ran towards me.
“Liz, seriously,” she huffed. “this is a really bad idea. You could get sucked in and then die or something.”
“You’re not my mother,” I said laughing. “Why are you so uptight? I’m really bored right now, and I’m going further. You do whatever you want, I don’t care.”
“Suit yourself,” Cynthia replied. “You’ll be rushing out in a matter of minutes, I know it.”
Like that was ever going to happen. I decided I would prove her wrong, and try to survive the riptide. It wasn’t hard to go any farther, since the current was so strong. Today,I was going to do what I’d always wanted to do, just let the current do whatever it wanted to do with me. And if I died, then I died. Life on Earth was kind of borring anyway, I thought. Maybe the afterlife would be better. I floated on my stomach, glad to be free at last. It seemed that all of my life, I was bound by restrictions and rules that kept me a part of society, but now I could just exist here, nothing to worry about. I could hear whistles blowing, but I just ignored them. I could see everyone running towards the shore, screaming at me to go over to the life guard who was jumping in with that flotation device that they always use to get people out of the water. I just smiled and dunked my head under. I was so sick of constantly being told what to do, how to live and how to keep safe. I didn’t want to be safe, I wanted to just be free. And now this life guard was preventing it. If he brought me back, then I would go back to being just another puppet of society, not being able to speak my opinion and being considdered a minor, and follow everyone’s footsteps.
ReplyDeleteThat was the last thing I remember thinking. Now, watching these people cry over me, I couldn’t believe that I had thought this. I couldn’t believe how selfish I had been that day, and I didn’t really know how much I had. Now as I watched my friend standing over the bed, sobbing with grief, I wanted to do nothing but go back to Earth, and just be there for her at the least. I don’t know why I ever wanted to “be free” from Earth.
I was able to reach out and touch her, but my hand just seemed to go through. I noticed her shivering after I touched her, and remembered her guilty pleasure involving dead people and spirits.
“I’ll follow you everywhere,” I said, hoping to ease the mood. “You’ll never escape me.”
I heard Cynthia let out a slight chuckle. Did she really see me? Could that really be possible?
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ReplyDeleteI peer out my window and see the beginnings of a beautiful sunrise over the grey sea. As I am unable to continue to sleep, I quietly get dressed and tiptoe out my sliding French doors, careful not to wake my sleeping dog. As my house is directly on the beach, the minute I step outside, my bare feet are cushioned by the soft, white sand that is cool and damp on my skin. The sky appears like a deep blue with tints of a bruised purple but over the ocean, tendrils of orange and peach weave their way through the dense covering of dark colors. I venture slowly down the gradual slope towards the tide that sweeps the shore. As I reach the water, my feet instantly shy away from the frigid water. Although it is late summer, the morning air is cool and humid so I wrap my sweater more securely around me. I am the only one on the expanse of beach and I cherish the peace of the atmosphere. A seagull squawks above me and I cringe. I am usually tolerant of the pesky and bothersome birds, but this one is exceptionally loud and its calls infiltrate my tranquil state of mind; however, as I watch the bird gracefully land on the sand near me, it reminds me of a kite slowing floating to the ground. The image startles me as it reminds me of a bittersweet memory of my childhood. With reverence, I clearly picture the recollection in my mind.
ReplyDeleteI was walking to the park with my father, hand in hand. I hummed melodies as I skipped along the path. It was a clear spring day, around noon. I had been looking forward to flying the new kite I had received for my birthday and when the park came into sight, I promptly discarded my father’s hand and ran with the kite. When my dad finally caught up to me and my boundless energy, he was breathless. I was ecstatic and immediately unraveled the string from around the kite and let the slight wind lift the slender structure out of my hands. For around an hour or so, my father and I flew the kite and enjoyed every minute of it.
The seagull’s loud shriek interrupts my reverie. Overwhelming sadness dominates my mood as I recall the last memory I have of my father. He had died later that day in a car accident. As I stand in the atmosphere of the serene morning, my stormy thoughts ruin it. The seagull continues its incessant crying which only heightens my petulance towards it. In an act of great chagrin, I yell at it to go away. With an arrogant nod of its head, it flies off and leaves me alone with my melancholy attitude. The memory is still fresh in my mind and I silently wish it away. It had become too difficult to dwell on memories concerning my late father. Once the memory is pushed away, I take a deep breath and continue to walk along the beach, enjoying the coming of the new day.