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"If"
I want to tell you I still need you,
but I'll only be let down,
by how weak my willpower is when there's no one left around.
I want to tell you I miss you,
only to hear a disappointing reply,
it's amazing how I fall apart when you look me in the eye.
I want to tell you I hate you,
to make myself believe what I say,
It would be so much easier going without thinking of you for a day.
I want to tell you that I will love again,
and you were just a first run,
but what if that was the last chance, what if my chance to love is done?
IF I told you I still need you,
you wouldn't budge a bit,
IF I told you I miss you,
you'd say we'll always be friends but that's it.
IF I told you I hated you,
you'd make me want to cry,
IF I told you that I will love again,
I'd be burdened with a lie.
The only thing I can say and know that it will always stand true,
is that no matter where you are I will still love you. |
Minique
12th grade
N. Bangor, NY |
| About the author of "IF"... 16/f/NY, one of the
easiest poems to write because it was all true. Every word came from
personal experience. |
A novel for all time
"In some distant arcade, a clock tower calls out six times and then
stops. The young man clumps at his desk. He has come to the office at
dawn, after another upheaval. His hair is uncombed and his trousers are
too big. In his hands, he holds twenty crumpled pages, his new theory of
time, which he will mail today to the German journal of physics."
That man was Albert Einstein-one of the greatest minds of the 20th
century. We now know, though, that he had many more theories of time-over
thirty in all. Alan Lightman's Einstein's Dreams, the source of the
preceding quote, documents and fictionalizes these theories, creating
thirty easily understood stories that each describes a different theory of
time.
One theory describes time as a visible dimension, one that we can see and
speed or slow as we choose. In this world, if one is dissatisfied with
this point in their life, they can speed time up, traveling to a more
pleasant place in their life. Or suppose a moment occurs that one simply
cannot leave; in this world, a person could slow time, staying in that
moment for lifetimes. Perhaps you could never move to the next event in
your life, staying in one moment for eternity. Of course, this theory of
time does not exist in our universe, but that is not the point. These
theories are simply possibilities-possibilities for a universe different
than our own.
Einstein's Dreams is a thought provoking novel and provides a great
introduction into the world of theoretical physics. Also, it corrects the
common misjudgment that time is an absolute, citing example after example
of situations where time has a different nature altogether. This novel
will captivate you and will open your mind to an entire new world most
never knew existed. |
Tim
12th grade
Greeley, CO, USA |
About the author of A novel for all time.
I am an avid reader and like to mix both classics with contemporary
literature. I am working to improve my writing and be published. All types
of music, writing, reading, and working at a theater occupy my free time. |
Deep Inside
Deep Inside are the words I feel
The Words too secret to reveal
All bottled up deep inside
Are all the things I try to hide.
Concealed and masked from the world
the private information never unfurled
Beneath the stars and Midnight Sea
a tunnel of thoughts flowing through the leaves
Trapped in a whirlwind of thought and speech
Hushed to the point of innocent grief.
A silent whiff of inter-planet breath
Brushing under all ideas unkept .
Released to the point of no return
never to come back, never to learn
The thoughts drift away easy it seems
until another night of utopian dreams.
And when it feels as if you have no thought
your power is drained, your mind distraught
look to the stars and you will find
all good answers come in time. |
Keanna
9th grade
Toledo, OH |
Keanna is a 9th grade student at Toledo School for the Arts
in Toledo, Ohio and she is thinking about pursuing a career in acting or
journalism. At school, Keanna likes, tap dance, chorus, and martial arts
in which she currently has a red belt in. At home, Keannna likes to read,
write, chill, surf the web, and listen to music. Bar-B-Q ribs from
"Po' Mo's" in Toledo and Chocolate are her fave foods. Her fave author
is Francine Pascal. She also hopes to someday publish a few fictional
novels for teens.
|
The
Stage of a Woman's Soul in Kate Chopin's The Awakening
For centuries the refined literary battle between the sexes has resounded
in the output of quilled warriors. Sometimes, the communiqués have been
quite straightforward and naive; sometimes a subtle understatement was
enough to show another point of view. Through The Awakening, Kate Chopin
gives voice to the smaller but, dare I say, the stronger-headed, feminine
side of this silent dispute. The novel became a classic the classical way,
forgotten and rediscovered. Its theme of a woman discovering herself
is forever prevalent in the lives of women and affects the lives of men.
Chopin deftly portrays her characters in a triptych-like fashion to
present a bold vision of a woman's soul and slightly steps ahead of her
times in her way of thinking, thus she can be considered an avant garde of
further literary movements.
The description on the back cover of the Penguin edition ("A daring
novel of a woman's sexual and spiritual rebirth"), especially after
the dynamic progress of the past century, gives a delicate foretaste of a
strongly exaggerated feminist tract. Indeed, the novel was received
diversely by critics in Chopin's times for its ostentatious portrayal of
woman's sensuality, but today, after reading a few books by certain
writers and under the pressure of mass media and popular culture, one
takes the book as rather tactful and subtle. The one sentence
summary seems insufficient to capture the novel's true meaning. What
the book really does is describe women in general, outside the screens of
society.
Though the end of the romantic era brought on many changes in society and
politics in America, and women were certainly part of that agenda, the
book doesn't deal with either society or politics in an explicit way.
Rather, since it focuses on the portrayal of a woman's soul, society is
just a backdrop or screen on a stage wall, which can be bare or can be
decorated, for example, with the essence of Creole life. In front,
the real action takes place. The main characters are Adele Ratignolle and
Mademoisell Reisz, so different from each other
yet tied together by the third and most important, Edna Pontellier. It is
Edna that is facing us, as Adele and Mademoiselle Reisz, staring intently
at her, stand partly turned to us. They form a narrative triptych,
and through this scenic eavesdropping, we glimpse their thoughts and
emotions, with Edna's emotions flowing down freely to engulf us in her
problems.
Why should we consider society a background? one may ask. Some people seem
to tie the main meaning of the book to a feminist defiance of the strict,
absurd rules of Edna's surroundings. The novel starts off with a
detailed account of her community: "Mrs. Pontellier, though she had
married a Creole, was not thoroughly at home in the society of Creoles;
never before had she been thrown so intimately among them." And the
further description of the community takes up a few chapters. The amount
of words dedicated to describing the Creoles in the beginning chapters is
misleading, and one can think that the main idea of the book is a
description of it. But later on as the soul comes forth the society does
drop back in meaning, hardly contaminating readers' minds. Besides,
if it weren't the Creole society (that Chopin knew so well and could
easily and accurately describe) Edna would have married into any society
just to defy her family. As Chopin describes in the conversation betwee!
n Adele and Edna, leading to Edna's brief retrospective of her life:
"Add to this the violent opposition of her father and her sister
Margaret to marriage with a Catholic, and we need seek no further for the
motives which led her to accept Monsieur Pontellier for her husband."
Society's reaction to Edna is partly voiced by the doctor when he tells
Leonce, "Woman, my dear friend, is a very peculiar and delicate
organism - a sensitive and highly organized woman, such as I know Mrs.
Pontellier to be, is especially peculiar." - but this understates
Edna's capacity for changing her internal world. Each fragment of the book
shows that society itself doesn't consider itself something secondary and
tries to interfere with Edna's internal life, not appreciating what is
going on within her, that is much more than any one of them could expect.
By throwing away the visual confinement of an imagined stage, a seemingly
abstract but possible thing to do, one ends up with a vision of only a
woman's internal world (a most curious picture) in a vast, timeless
emptiness. In describing Edna it would become a little like the music that
Mademoiselle Reisz plays for her:
....The shadow deepened in the room. The music grew strange and fantastic
- turbulent, insistent, plaintive and soft with entreaty. The shadows grew
deeper. The music filled the room. It floated out upon the night, over the
housetops, the crescent of the river, losing itself in the silence of the
upper air.
She is potentially much more than anybody around her could imagine because
she is just at the beginning of change. And as Chopin observes,
the beginning of things, of a world especially, is necessarily vague,
tangled, chaotic, and exceedingly disturbing. How few of us ever emerge
from such beginning! How many souls perish in its tumult!
As Edna wakes from her symbolic slumber and begins to discover
herself, even the doctor is lead to observe that she is like "some
beautiful, sleek animal waking up in the sun," her previous state of
mind being in need of change as she begins her search for who she is and
what she wants from herself. She stretches her wings lazily, yet already
anticipates how she can use them. And so we see the Icarian flight
of Mrs. Pontellier into the vast universe of being. But we never found out
if Icarus didn't whisper, falling into the sea: "It was worth
it."
Edna flies into a world of passion, emotions and dismay. After the
symbolic sixth chapter, every chapter dives deeper and deeper into the
vast sky that opens up in front of the reader. Her breaking the rules of
society is only the breaking the rules of the ground from which she wants
to rise. But maybe her wings aren't yet strong enough, which Mademoiselle
Reisz didn't foresee, or maybe she is tied down by her maternal love to
Raoul and Etienne, which Adele encourages, and so her jump ends in the
tragedy that closes the book.
And here her co-stars in the abstract play of a woman's soul come
out and call to her. Adele calls from the palace of maternity and
happy family life she built on the ground using her husband's love and
society's approving hand. Mademoiselle Reisz calls out from the sky where
she moves freely, yet her wings have become strong and sinewy in order to
sustain the artist in this celestial position, not the beautiful and
delicate wings of Edna. Yet they don't realize that they have the support
of society and family, or artistry and defiance that
Edna doesn't. Warm hearted and full of sensuous motherly affection
for everyone, Adele is a woman naturally at home in her society. She
tries to infect Edna with this maternal instinct, which Edna yearns for
herself. Whereas Mademoiselle Reisz is fully absorbed in her music
and defying the society she deems not worthy of listening to her, finding
in Edna not only an avid listener but also a successor of her artistic
life. Edna, torn between the two, seems to know that neither life suits
her fully, and she finally finds a way of connecting the two in her last
bath:
The foamy wavelets curled up to her white feet, and coiled like serpents
around her ankles. She walked out. The water was chill, but she walked on.
The water was deep, but she lifted her white body and reached out with a
long, sweeping stroke. The touch of the sea is sensuous, enfolding the
body in its soft, close embrace.
The three heroines are very different from each other, each represents a
different path which leads in a different direction. But the material
their worlds are made out of is in fact the same, and all women's souls
are similar though brilliantly different. To Kate Chopin, each heroine was
a part of her; she had the wings to write, but she was also very happy in
her earlier family life. This novel becomes another subtle argument
describing women from the feminine side. This struggle to describe a
human's soul is not a battle for winning or losing, and I think many
authors close their books and wonder what they are really fighting for and
if they attained it. And they probably come to the conclusion that it is
not a fight to be won but a gentle argument for the sake of understanding
one another and oneself. |
Ania
Torun, Poland |
Skid Marks of Death
This is the spine-chilling tale of the unusual and brutal murder of
Frederick Doogenheimer. Frederick Doogenheimer lived in the slums of
Williamstown (which basically describes the whole town). He had just
finished a course on taking care of animals at the local Tafe. This gave
him the idea to get a pet of his own and test his new knowledge so he went
down to the local pet store and had a good look around. Eventually
Frederick found the perfect pet for himself a Hawaiian Shrieking Monkey.
Frederick called over the shop assistant and said, "I'd like to buy
that monkey", the assistant replied "that'll be $200 mate".
The thing about this though is that Frederick was about as sharp as a
billiard ball and had left almost all his money at home. A quick look
through his pockets also revealed that all he had was 10 cents, an old
button and a moldy looking bit of pocket fluff when he told this to the
shop assistant he said "no worries you see I happen to have this
Arabian voodoo lizard out the back for only 10 cents and if you throw in
that button and piece of moldy pocket fluff for my button and moldy pocket
fluff collection I'll even give you a terrarium to keep him in". Like
I mentioned before Frederick wasn't the brightest bloke around and to him
this sounded like a good deal even though to someone with half a brain it
would be obvious that this guy was a bit suspicious but Frederick decided
he liked the idea and took his new lizard home.
Something that Frederick had learnt in his Tafe course was that lizards
needed warm surfaces to lie on Frederick then remembered that his friend
Weiner von Crumpet worked at the local nuclear power plant and that maybe
he could get a rod of plutonium for his lizard to lie on. Most people
would have thought this would have killed the lizard but as we know
Frederick wasn't smart and you can find cockroaches that were more
intelligent than Weiner so they went and "borrowed" a rod of
plutonium from the plant and took it home for the lizard. At first the
lizard was wary of the glowing green rod but got used to it and even liked
it. One day soon after Fredrick noticed the lizard was running in circles
so he decided to visit the vet. The vet stood around and whispered to his
nurse made weird noises and then said to Frederick "I'm afraid your
lizard has M.L.D. also known as mad lizard disease and there is nothing I
can do to help him, you'll just have to put up with him it's probably!
the reason why you got him so cheap" upon hearing this news
Frederick decided he was still going to keep his lizard and returned home.
Over the next couple of months Frederick started noticing subtle
differences such as the lizards head was growing larger, the lizard gave
him dirty looks and he had used some materials to construct a small
curtained room blocking Fredrick's view of what was in the back corner of
the terrarium. Frederick wondered what was behind these curtains for a
while but then decided he had better not invade the lizard's privacy and
left it alone. Then one day Frederick decided he couldn't hold out any
longer and had to look at what was behind the curtains. What he saw should
have shocked him but because his lizard was an Arabian voodoo lizard he
thought it must have been perfectly normal for it to have voodoo dolls of
himself lying around with pointy sticks in them. He then realized the
lizard was watching him, he turned and stared at the lizard eye to eye for
several tense hours before the lizard pounced with super lizard strength
and landed right on Frederick's face. The lizard then started biting
Frederick's ears just like Mike Tyson would have done. Frederick started
screaming like a schoolgirl and with an extremely lucky shot he knocked
the lizard of his face and ran into his bedroom. As he entered his bedroom
the phone rang he answered it and heard a deep voice that said "do
you know where I am". Frederick did not know what to say. He hung up
and then ran to the curtain and looked to see if he could spot the lizard
through the window but he was ambushed by the lizard who had been hiding
against the lime green curtains. This time the lizard had a weapon.
Frederick did not know what it was but it sure did pong he then felt the
lizard stuffing something down his throat and he could now see what the
weapon was, a skid marked old pair of g-strings. He felt himself gagging
and then heard a voice that said "Fool you should have never put that
plutonium in my terrarium a psycho lizard and a radioactive rod of
plutonium do not mix well it has turned me into a viscous, smart, strong
and incredibly handsome lizard and now you must die". As everything
turned black the last thing that Frederick heard was "Ha Ha nobody
ever suspects the lizard". Frederick was found 2 days later and taken
away. There was no murder weapon so the police assumed that seeing
Frederick was so dumb he had simply forgotten to breathe. His possessions
were split up between his friends including the Arabian voodoo lizard and
from that day forth every one of the lizard's owners mysteriously died of
suffocation. |
Simon
11th grade
Williamstown, South Australia, Australia |
Butterfly Beneath
I truly am a butterfly
A butterfly beneath
Judge me with your eyes shut tight
Love me with an open mind
This butterfly flaps its fairy wings
From petal of pain to petal of hope
Against the breeze the world bestows
Upon those who dare to be different
I truly am that butterfly
That butterfly beneath
As delicate as the morning dew
On blades that sliced relief
My wings fold back, afraid of flight
No wind to uplift the soul
Blindly flitting among the stars
Wishing upon them every night
I truly am a butterfly
A butterfly beneath
I am hidden in deep sorrow
Touched by graceful faith
I'll become the butterfly
No longer sheltered beneath
I will be a beauty queen
A youth showered in kisses of love
By him and many millions
Destined to be free
I will become that butterfly
Set free from beneath
And finally I will love myself
The butterfly beneath |
Sarah
11th grade
Rockton, Il |
| It's truly who I am. Only now do I realize that we are all
beautiful. Some of us it shines through. Others, it's sneaks a peek. And
some, it's beneath. But only is all this, to the judging eyes of others. |
Act
Such an act. How many times have I paced through these halls?
Down these stairs?
Nervous as if I were on stage.
My body stiff.
My eyes blank.
How many times have I walked, sit, and played.
Such an act.
My life, like a rerun show.
Nothing changes.
Upon waking late and staying up late.
Looking older.
Acting older.
I have to you know?
I think you do.
Seeing me when I'm alone.
Your the audience.
You make me stiff.
Make me nervous.
Your the audience and part of the act.
Come watch me play. |
Sarisa
8th grade
Eagle River, Alaska, USA |
| I'm a beginner writer. I've gotten a lot of positive feed
back from many of my writing teachers. So I thought I would try and see
how this works out. |
"When I Was
Strong"
I think i must be grieving,
For something i left alone,
In mourning over empty spaces,
That burn between my bones.
I'm lost inside the absences,
Of my self-reliant heart,
I'm waiting for the light to shine,
From too deep inside the dark.
And I always thought the weaker ones,
Were those who talked to that dark,
But now i see that being weak,
Means keeping us apart.
How long am i supposed to be,
This picture of reality,
When no one really understands,
That just isn't me they see.
The storms that rage inside my heart,
Can be healed with just one touch,
But vessels sail away,
When the seas ask them for too much.
This black hole sits in waiting,
For the chance to bring me down,
When will they learn that this is me,
To keep pretending just can't be allowed.
It drives me away to the bitter outside,
Then pulls me back home until,
There's nowhere else for me to go,
And I'm left here standing still.
This monster of darkness,
This girl of the light, (this girl is my angel)
Fight a new battle everyday,
Until i give into the night.
I cannot wake now,
From this dream induced reality,
And i cannot find myself,
I'm not where i used to be.
So i keep trying to retrace the lines,
To figure out where i went wrong,
'Cause i need to be one step behind,
I loved it when i was strong. |
Shanithia
10th grade
Saudi Arabia |
| I'm getting better nowadays. |
Glass Moves
Legend has it that there is a ruby flower that gives you the power to fly.
They say that you have to hold it up to your nose, breathe deeply, spread
your arms, run like the wind, and think fly fly fly, and suddenly, your
feet go off the ground and grass sprawls below you and the stars glimmer
down at you. It is said that a ring of these ruby flowers thrive
around the Windersholm swamp on the west side of town, and you can only
find them on a full moon night. They can only be found by those that
are pure of heart - those with marred spirits will cause the ruby flowers
to wither at their touch.
Unfortunately, this is only a legend of the town crafted by generations of
children yearning for something to believe in, something to keep them away
from the harsh realities that so often plague parents in the factory town
of Windersholm. Windersholm has a spell woven into its foundations,
a spell that depresses its residents into becoming a grinding part of the
machinery of its factories. The children of Windersholm are not born
with thoughts of cogs and widgets. Their heads are full of dreams,
and lemonade stands, and chocolate trees and merry-go-rounds. The
machines of Windersholm have a tendency to feed on these dreams and spit
out parts to autos and aero planes. The dreams of children slowly
seep away to feed these machines as the children grow. When the
dreams are gone, the children have become parents, unknowingly trapped in
slave labor to the factory. But while the children are young,
legends grow and twist like the roots of the magnificent cypresses that
flour!
ish in the Windersholm swamp. One day, a bold boy named William
Hughes came to the swamp, climbed a cypress and dared to believe in a
legend. There is another spell in Windersholm, and that spell is
that if a legend is taken to heart, it becomes true. William Hughes
heard about a legend, took one look at it, and stuffed it into his heart.
"Did you know," said William Hughes to Jessica Hyde, "that
glass is actually a liquid at room temperature?"
"I don't care," said Jessica.
"But," continued William, as he followed her to class,
"think about this. We all look through windows right?
Windows let us see. And people think that glass doesn't move, that
we always have to see through the same old glass. But they're wrong!
Glass moves, the window's moving, and the way people see things can change
too!"
"William, I'm sick of your metaphors, I'm sick of your games with
words, I'm sick of your dreams, and most of all, I'm sick of you. So why
don't you go talk to somebody who cares?"
"I think I'm going to do something," William said with an intake
of breath. "I don't know what exactly. But I've been
thinking about windows, and I've been thinking about thinking, and I've
been thinking about you. I think I need your help to do what I want
to do."
"Think about this. I don't like you. You scare me.
Stay away from me. Don't talk to me. Ever again."
Jessica ran off from William to school, leaving him alone on the path.
William liked watching storms. At the slightest scent of rain,
William would run to the field where the carnivals and the fairs came.
He would lay down on the grass and let the falling water soak his clothes
and permeate into his bones. He relished the sight of lightning
dancing across the dark sky. He would place his hand on his heart
and feel the echoes of the thunder rumble deep within him. He loved
the suddenness of it, the rapid shift from a sweet summer lilac sky to a
ravaging dark storm. While the lightning was strong and swift, it
moved with a grace that soothed his soul. William cherished
contrast. When he heard the thunder echo in himself, he thought the
lightning was in Jessica's eyes. William was in love with Jessica's
eyes. While her words were bitter and accusing, her eyes flickered
whispers of please, please forgive me! Because of this, William held
on, despite her caustic abuse, and so, William watched sudden summer
storms to bring him closer to her!
ambiguity.
While William searched for ambiguity, Jessica searched for a certainty, a
steady rock to grasp in the whirling sea of her life. Both her
parents worked in the factory and left Jessica at home to prepare their
dinner and care for their three-year old daughter Bethany. Jessica
loved Bethany but she had other obligations as well. School work for
one. She also carried the burdens of being lonely. She had
very few friends, and those who were, used her for her intelligence.
One day, she had been in school and her teacher had reproached her for
forgetting her project. The moment of the teacher's scolding was
badly timed, for the night before, Jessica had been beaten by her father.
Her father was lost - years of work had drained him and made him unstable.
Her mother did nothing to stop him and she was as weak-willed and feeble
as her father's spirit. Jessica had screamed at the teacher and ran
out of the classroom leaving faces stunned and aghast.
She had run out of the room into the pouring rain. Even the weather
is against me, she had thought, fighting back tears. Jessica ran
onto the field outside of the school and let the rain wash over her.
Suddenly, she saw a form in the grass, smiling staring up at the sky,
mouth open, letting the drops flood his mouth.
"What are you doing here!" Jessica shouted at him, as if
his presence ruined her dramatic vision of dashing on the field with tears
running down her cheeks.
"Something must be wrong," said the boy in the grass,
"because never would you let me see the day where you stand out in
the middle of pouring rain and stinging wind in order to talk to me."
The boy in the grass looked up at Jessica. He smiled.
"What are you smiling at!"
"I can see the lightening in your eyes."
"So what! Just stop staring at me like that," she said
between her deep breaths from crying.
"Doesn't that strike you as beautiful? That lightening so dark
and fierce can be in something so bright and warm."
Jessica's face loosened and something of a smile scurried across her face,
but she hurried it along and it disappeared. "You can't go around
saying things like that! Just . . . talk normal!"
"Jessica, I think we should go to my house right now and get you
something to eat."
William got up from the grass and held out his hand.
"Come on," he said softly, looking deep into her.
Jessica shuddered as she remembered waking up that morning and seeing her
life tearing at its seams. She needed something to hold her
together. Jessica, her hair wind-tossed, her body bruised, her heart
thundering, her spirit ready to give, reached out in the thick foam to
grasp the rock that stood out, a temporary respite from her troubled
world.
They sat at his dining table quietly. Jessica sat across from
William and she peered down into her lap. William's arms were
crossed and he was reading a book. The silence was welcome.
For Jessica, the silence was a change from her constantly churning life,
and for William, the silence was a delightful disparity to the storm that
raged outside.
Something's missing, thought Jessica. I mean, sure houses are quiet,
but I've never heard anything this silent. Does he live alone?
How come there aren't any clocks ticking? No refrigerator humming?
What's wrong with this house?
While Jessica was looking around the room, William focused on the words
that he was reading but none of them registered. Should I get her
food? I mean, I did offer her food, but that was just an invitation.
I - I don't even know what to say to her. I'll just let her stay
quiet. She doesn't seem to mind it, he thought.
Why doesn't he give me any food? I'm starving, thought Jessica.
But then again, it's been awhile since lunch. Maybe I'll just give
her some cookies.
"Um, do you . . ." began Jessica.
"Yes!" sprang up William, running to the cupboard.
"Here!" he dashed back and put a box of chocolate chip cookies
on the table.
"Thanks . . ." said Jessica. What happened to his
boldness? He's always so forward.
"Of course," said William. Why isn't she making fun of me?
She's always so mean to me.
Jessica brought the cookies to her lips and chewed gingerly.
"Would you like some?" asked Jessica.
"Well, they are my cookies," said William. "I'll take
some if I want some."
Silence began rising up from the floor, where it had been dozing off, but
Jessica decided to push it back down.
"What book are you reading?" asked Jessica.
"Oh!" said William, his face suddenly brightening.
"Someone gave me this book a long time ago. It's about this
town! But . . ." he paused, "I don't think you'd want to
read it."
"Well, why not? I like to read," proclaimed Jessica
indignantly. Silence stalked off into a shadowy corner of the room.
"It was written by my grandfather, who built this house. He
died a few years ago. He raised me."
"So who raises you now?"
"I'm all raised up."
"You live alone?"
William nodded.
"Well don't you get awful lonely?"
"I don't mind. I go to school in the morning. I work in
the General Store. I have my books at night. That's all I
need."
"William, I'm sorry. About all the times . . ."
"Don't worry about it. And call me Will."
"Okay, I will," she laughed. This time, she let her smile
shine from her face.
"You have a nice laugh," he said.
"I don't laugh very often."
"I'm sorry, you should. Here. I want you to take this
book and read it tonight." Jessica had been sitting far back in
the chair, slumped into herself, as far away from William as she could
possibly sit. But when William offered her the book, she reached
forward across the table. Yet the table was very wide.
"Come on Jessica, you've got to stretch a little. Just a
little. There you go."
Jessica laughed again and took the book.
"Okay. I need to go now. I have to make dinner for my
parents. Who makes dinner for you?" she asked.
William was silent.
"Would you like to have dinner with us? It's the least I can
do."
Jessica rose from the table and opened the door. The rain was
softening. "Just come on," she said, extending her hand.
William smiled as he stood up and then he followed her out of the silent
house.
To William's excitement, Jessica's house was noisy and brighter than his.
Her sister Bethany screamed intolerably and suddenly shushed as her eyes
caught sight of a new toy. Her house was warmly carpeted and heat
crawled along the walls. The warm hum of the microwave calmed him,
and a rich smell of soup and fresh bread wafted to his face.
"Where are your parents?" William asked.
"They'll be here soon. Can I ask you one favor? Please
try not to disturb my father. He's had a long day at work. He
needs his rest and he can't stand too much noise. The factory is
very loud and he needs some place where he can find peace."
"Yes, but when I mentioned your parents, you began trembling.
What's the matter?"
"Oh nothing, it's just that they can be . . . unkind after a long day
of work, I mean, that's understandable. Who wants to work all day
and come home to an upset house?"
"How unkind are they?"
Jessica began whimpering. William rose from the table and came up
behind Jessica and put his arms around her.
"Don't touch me!" screamed Jessica, whirling around.
"Sorry . . ." said William. "I'm just trying to
help."
Jessica turned her back to him and said quietly, "just go back to the
table and wait." Jessica left the room and William stared down
at his plate.
The doorbell rang. Jessica went over and opened the door. Her
parents walked in, her father tall, dark unkempt hair, beard, strong
build; her mother, heavy, angular yet with a certain grace. William
could see where Jessica's fierce but soft looks came from.
"We have a guest?" said her father's rich, deep voice.
"Hello, I'm William," he said, standing up. Her father's
presence commanded respect. William offered a hand to him. Her
father looked at his hand and shook it as if it did not belong to William
but as if it were a separate object that one must touch to exchange
greetings.
"You will be joining us for dinner?" asked her mother, her voice
monotone.
William looked at Jessica and she said nothing. Jessica looked very
small to William. William spoke up, "Yes, Jessica invited me.
Is it okay?"
Her parents looked at Jessica and then at William. Both the father
and the mother almost made their moves and gestures unanimously and
precisely. "You can join us," said the father.
"Sit."
William sat.
William seemed uncertain with what to do with himself as he ate with
Jessica's family. As they all sat down, it hit him that he was
eating with complete strangers. He barely knew Jessica let alone her
parents. Something uncomfortable began to prick up the hairs on his
arm. While the silence at his house had been soothing, the silence
here was devious, moving from person to person, tying each of their
tongues, and leaving a feeling of deep discomfort after it passed.
The dinner grew more and more disconcerting as moment and moment passed
where a word could be spoken, yet was not. Words dangled from
William's mouth, and he had an intention to say them, but when he saw
Jessica rapidly shoving food in her mouth, he did the same, and he
swallowed the food along with his words.
Towards the end of dinner, William's glass suddenly shattered, as he had
been squeezing the glass tighter and tighter throughout the meal.
The pieces skittered across the floor and William looked up at Jessica's
parents. They had hardly noticed. No one made a move to clean
the shards of glass. It was as if her parents were completely
oblivious to any action, and they were hardly concerned with picking up
the pieces. He understood why Jessica had been trembling before.
Living alone, he thought, was louder that this. Despite the hum of
the microwave, the warmth in the house, and the yellow lights, the house
suddenly felt cold. He couldn't leave Jessica alone here. He
looked down at the glass on the floor. He saw a piece shimmer,
almost as if it were moving on its own. Did it just glide an inch?
William stared again. The glass was still. Yet when he looked
out of the corner of his eye, the glass did appear to be moving.
That's all we have to do, he thought. He stared at Jessica and
flicked his eyes towards the door.
William didn't think there were any words necessary to be excused from
dinner. He left the room quietly and waited outside of her house in
the dark. The night washed over him.
"William," he said weakly.
"Papa?"
They sat at the dinner table, eating their routine seven o clock Sunday
dinner of boiled ham, potatoes, gravy, carrots, warm cornbread and water.
"I think . . ."
"What Papa?"
"I think . . . I need to go to bed. Can you help me?"
William rose from his side of the table and walked to where Papa was
sitting. William wrapped his hands around Papa's warm, skinny frame.
"That's it William," he heaved as William helped him out of his
chair.
William had his hands around Papa's shoulders and neck, as he slowly
walked him to his room. Papa talked as they walked.
"You're very lucky William, you know that?"
"I know I am, Papa, cause I have you."
"I want you to think of something. At night, when I'm asleep,
do you feel happy?"
"Of course! I read, and I write, and I think and I figure out
what the day means."
"So it is not me that makes you happy, it's the things you do,"
said Papa.
"Well I'm happy because I know when I get up, you'll be there too, so
I can tell you what I've figured out."
"I'm going to give you a goal," said Papa. "I've
decided, that in order to help you out," he paused, breathing deeply,
"I'm going to go to sleep for a very long time. That way,
you'll have more time to read, write, and think and figure things out on
your own. And when you're done," Papa continued, "come see
me and tell me about your life. But I have to give you something as
soon as we get to my room."
William continued to walk Papa and soon enough they were in Papa's
bedroom. William helped Papa sit down on his bed, and Papa lay back
on the sheets.
"Wait Papa, if you are going to sleep for a long time, you're going
to need something warmer than that." William left the room and
then came back with a heavy, warm blanket.
"Here," said William.
"And here's what I have for you."
Papa handed William a book.
"I've written this in ink. Because ink doesn't last forever, I
want you to memorize it, and make it part of your life. Oh and do
not read the last page until you know you are ready. When you are
ready to come see me, read the last page."
William pulled the blanket over Papa.
"I've seen a lot of things, William. A lot of things trouble
me. But when I see you smiling, you laughing, I know that you can
change things. Remember, whatever you see in this world that you
don't like, that you think is unjust, that you think is wrong, you can
change it. You can change people, William."
"What if you need water in the middle of the night?" asked
William.
"I won't."
"Well, Papa, just in case, I'm going to put a glass of water besides
your bed. Drink it when you need it."
"William," whispered Papa. "I love you."
"Why are you whispering?"
"I'm tired, William. It's time to go to bed. Give me a
kiss."
William bent down and kissed his grandfather's wrinkled face, and William
smiled at the thought that a man so wrinkled, could be so strong.
That a man so old, could bring William such youthful life.
William yelled at the men who came into his house and took his grandfather
away. He told them that he was just sleeping but the men did not
listen. William sobbed into his hands and did not know how he could
keep up with the rate the world turned.
"William! Wake up!"
William felt himself being shaken and he opened his eyes. Jessica's
face loomed over him.
"Jessica," he said. "Where are we?"
"You're sleeping outside my house! It's two in the morning.
Look up!"
William looked when Jessica pointed, and he saw a bright silver moon
smiling.
"It's a full moon," she whispered. "Come on!"
William sprang to his feet and held onto Jessica's hand.
"Let's run!" Jessica pulled William along, grass licking
at their feet, night air kissing their young faces, branches pricking
their legs, the dark night caressing and tickling their spirits.
As they were running, William asked her breathlessly, "do you believe
the book?"
"We have to William. I'm sorry I was wrong. Everyone here
is wrong. What do we lose in believing in it? Nothing!
We have everything to gain, William."
Soon, they were both in Windersholm swamp. An orchestra of crickets
rose up from the woods behind them and fireflies blinked on and off like
applause. Jessica bent down into the dirt and searched frantically.
"They're up there!" shouted William.
Above William and Jessica was a tall tree filled with blossoming ruby
flowers. He ran over to the trunk of the tree and shimmied up the
bark. He crawled out on the first branch and took two flowers.
Below him, William saw the reflection of himself in the swamp and was
delighted at the sight of the luminescent flower in the dark water.
The lake rippled like the broken glass had on the floor. William
felt himself swell and he knew he was ready. He leapt down from the
tree and handed Jessica a flower.
"Now we run?" she asked.
"Yes, and when we are running very fast, we think to ourselves, fly
fly fly and then it happens!"
"Are you ready?"
"Yes," William said trembling.
"Hold my hand," said Jessica. He reached out and took hold
of her warm, dry hand.
"Now!" whispered William.
Together, William and Jessica began running, out onto the field where
William had spent countless hours watching thunderstorms, where his
grandfather had taught him to fly a kite, where he had reached out to
Jessica. Their soft feet padded against the earth as they ran, and
now and then, they laughed, and their laughter sprinted out in front of
them, clearing the path for them, so that they could embrace the night.
When dawn came, William groggily opened his eyes and found Jessica
sleeping besides him. His heart was content but something gnawed at
him. Why was he here? Yes, then he remembered. Had he
flown? Did the flower work?
He shook Jessica. "Jessica, wake up," he whispered.
Jessica opened her soft eyes.
"Hello," she yawned gloriously.
"Jessica, did it work?"
"Did what work?
"Did we fly Jessica? Please remember."
"I . . . I can't. I don't remember."
"We have to go back and try again."
"William," said Jessica, "relax. Look at how
beautiful this morning is. Just give me a hug and be content."
William reached out and hugged Jessica warmly. Soon, sleep began to
overcome him and he yielded to its spell.
He sat in the rocking chair out on his porch one August evening. The
sky was dark and rain threatened, but still he sat. His gaze was
fixated to the sky and never did he blink even when the lightning came.
"Jessica," he yelled softly. "Come out here."
"Jessica!"
The old man rocked and rocked and the sky rumbled.
"Oh Jessica," he sighed. He got up from the chair and
slowly limped into his house. He walked up the stairs, one painful
step at a time, and finally made it to his room. He stretched out on
his bed. He drew him warm blanket over his body. He reached
down under his bed. There, a dusty book lay.
He opened the book to the first page, dog-eared, wrinkled, and stained.
The ink was barely there. He could faintly make out the word
"legend." He flipped through page after page, reading from
his memory, tasting his youth so beautifully written out on the blank
pages. Finally he got to the last pristine page. For the first
time, his fingers turned the page. The ink was dark and rich.
Slowly, he began reading.
Hello William, it said. I told you I'd be back. Did you really
think that I'd be gone forever? I had a wonderful sleep. I
dreamed about the time when my legs were still strong enough so that I
could dance. Oh, how I danced! Remember that time when I put
on that Beatles tape, and we danced like crazy? I hope you are still
dancing William. Sorry, you don't need to be lectured anymore, you are all
grown up. I'm sorry I haven't talked to you in a while, but I told
you, I needed to give you time to figure things out for yourself.
What did you figure out? Did you ever learn to play the guitar?
Have you felt hot sand whispering through your fingers? Did you ever
laugh the whole night away? Did you touch a child's life? Did
you meet someone that you could name a star after? Did you meet
someone that taught you how to fly? You came back to see me because you
learned something. And I'm here, ready to listen. Tell me what
you figured out.
William told him and his heart swelled and a smile brought tears to his
eyes. Papa, he said, thank you for teaching me about magic.
That's what makes glass move. That's what makes the world turn.
I won't forget it. He stretched contentedly and his heart told him
that he was finally ready to go to sleep. |
Sushrut
graduated
Ashland, MA, USA |
"Late Nights"
A dark and warm ocean
murmurs of another world
and beckons you to join it there
by letting sleep unfurl
A flashing sea of glitter
giggles eagerly and seals
its fading heart with your own
in a burst of golden fireworks
A stringent stretch of sea
beats against your skin
and rips you away with cruel intentions
from a blanket's consoling embrace |
Monifa
12th grade
Cincinnati, OH |
| Monifa is a high school senior living in Cincinnati, Ohio. |
Fresh Pain
Hearing the smooth beat of the bass drum in my ear, I realized it was in
sync with my steady heartbeat. I always listened to music as I ran each
morning. But, for some odd reason, this morning was a little different
than usual. My mind wasn't crammed with facts, dates, body parts or math
equations. It seemed like I was totally drained of all my knowledge.
Where I was going had no impact of me. Running was all I did, not caring
what was going on around me. I had my own problems that I didn't want to
deal with, let alone anyone else's. But I knew I would have to deal with
them sooner or later.
I would prefer later.
Not noticing how far I had ran, I stopped to get a drink at a water
fountain. I thought to myself, they have water fountains on street corners
now? That's when I realized I wasn't on a street corner. I had somehow
ended up at the local college.
Bemused, I looked around for any sign of life, but there was none. I
looked at my watch, 6:15 a.m. Of course no one would be up. I guess I had
started out earlier than I thought. Realizing I looked a little odd just
standing at the drinking fountain, I took a long drink and turned around
for home. But for some bizarre reason, I couldn't remember where I lived.
Everything around me looked exactly the same. So, I just turned around and
started to run towards the college library.
Suddenly, everything went white.
I mean, I could see the blazing red of the stop light then the grassy
green of the 'go' signal but that was it. Turning onto an unknown street,
everything came back into my sight. Another thing I hadn't realized while
I was running was that my hearing too had been blocked out. Again, I heard
cars whooshing by, dogs barking at the trespasser jogging by, and the
birds chirping their merry song of the day.
Straight ahead, I saw a tall, ivory house with many windows. That house
looks familiar, I thought. Then it came to me: it was my house. I quietly
sneaked into the house, hoping I wouldn't wake my parents. I would be so
lucky if they weren't already up. I guess today just wasn't my day because
when I stepped onto the sheep skin rug in our front passageway, my mother
started to yell at me.
"Where have you been? I told you not to go jogging unless you tell me
when you are leaving! Look at you, you're all sweaty and you only have
fifteen minutes before you have to leave for school!" she screamed in
a shrill voice. I glanced up at the wall clock, 7:15 a.m. Where had all my
time gone! Last time I checked the time, it was 6:15! It couldn't have
taken me an hour to jog back home! Standing there in amazement at how
quickly my time had gone by and how slowly I must have jogged, my mother
was hollering at me once again. "What is wrong with you Nicole? Go
get ready, NOW!"
I ran to my room and gently shut my door. I quickly threw on my washed out
denim jeans and my bright red muscle tank. There was no time to put on
make-up so I ran to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth.
Practically running back to my room, I was trying desperately not to wake
my father too. If I did, I knew there would be consequences. He came home
late last night from the bar and probably had a hangover. I didn't want to
deal with that before school. Because of him, I had become "best
friends" with the school counselor. He drank, then came home and
abused my mom, and then my mom came after me to take out all of her rage.
Trying to put that out of my mind, I searched through my room for my black
Converse. After looking for them for what seemed to be an endless time
(actually it was about 2 minutes), I finally found them. I grabbed my
backpack, shoes in hand and went out the door to my car. Quickly, I
fumbled through my backpack looking for the keys to my yellow Volkswagen
Bug. I felt the square shape of my key chain that says "I'm busy,
you're ugly. Have a nice day!" I knew it sounded a little mean, but I
liked it.
I pulled my keys out and lodged them into their hole. Hastily, I opened
the door and thrust my bright orange backpack into the passenger's seat.
Getting in the car, shoes still in hand, I hurriedly turned on the engine
and began to back out of our precipitous driveway.
I arrived to school just as the buzz-like bell rang. I could see
parades of kids roughly pushing each other so they wouldn't be tardy to
class for the one-hundredth time. I sprinted to my Chemistry class and
was, to my amazement, on time. Trying to put my shoes on furtively with
one hand, I pulled my binder out of my backpack with the other. The
monotonous teacher began droning on about molecular structure and I began
doodling tiny people all over my binder. The class went by surprisingly
quick.
Second period was my session with the school counselor, Miss
Hannagan. Miss Hannagan was a tall, slender, pale, young woman. I would
guess she was about twenty-four years old. She had bleached blonde hair to
her shoulders and it looked sort of tacky on her, with her being so pale
and all.
Sitting down on the uncomfortable couch, she gave me a jovial hello and
asked about my morning so far. Not wanting to tell her, I mumbled that it
was fine and hoped she will change the subject. But, all she did was sit
there patiently waiting for me to tell her what actually did happen that
morning. Not wanting to surrender so quickly, I pulled my foot up to my
chin so I could untie and retie my shoe. I did this for about five minutes
straight. Untie, retie, untie, and retie.over and over again. I could feel
Miss Hannagan's eyes burning a hole in my neck.
I looked up at her and noticed for the first time that her eyes were of
the brightest blue. They were brighter than the sky on a clear day. She
smiled at me and I accidentally smiled back. By accident I mean; I didn't
want to show this woman that I really did have feelings, whether they are
happy, sad, angry, anxious, or frustrated.
I checked my watch and it was time to go. I guess she noticed it was time
to go too because we both stood up in unison and she opened her dark oak
wood door for me. After she closed the door behind me, I slowly walked out
of the administration building out into the overly crowded hall into a
swarm of high school students hurrying to chat with friends, go to their
locker or just go to class.
After that, the day went by pretty fast. Most teenagers would be happy
about this but not me. Everyone else got to go home to their e-mail or the
next episode of Jerry Springer, but not me. I went home to an extremely
depressed mother and a drunken father. I walked out to my car trying to
think of something that I could do to stall from going home. I finally
came up with an idea: I could go to the mall. I did have some extra cash
from babysitting last Saturday.
Trying to forget my problems at home, I went into the record store. I
ended buying the new Sum41 c.d. and a Blink182 poster. Finally, I decided
to go home.
That decision was a mistake.
As soon as I shut the door behind me, my mom grabbed my arm and
threw me against the wall. A bruise around her eye was just now forming.
It was obvious my dad had been home during his lunch break. Not even
asking for an explanation of where I had been, my mother grabbed me by my
hair and threw me to the ground.
She kicked my in the stomach several times while yelling "You are no
good! Next time you go somewhere tell me, or else I swear to God I will
kill you!"
Grabbing my stomach, not only for protection from my mother's black
Stiletto heels but also for a little comfort, I turned over and she began
kicking my back, arms, and the back of my head.
"Get up!" she screamed in a high-pitch voice. I slowly peeled my
self from the ground and stood up in front of her. Looking at the ground
so she wouldn't see my tears, I noticed a fine line of scarlet blood that
I was sure was mine.
"Clean this mess up before your father gets home!" she yelled as
she stormed out the door, not telling me where she was heading. I backed
up against the wall and slid to the ground. Just what I needed, fresh
pain. I knew that she would be home before my father so she can spare
herself a beating. I guess it was too late for me.
I walked into the kitchen and grabbed a sponge and the carpet cleaner. I
scrubbed the sheep skin rug until my hand was burning with pain.
Slowly, I got up and walked into my room. Looking into my full-length
mirror, I could see the drying blood on my arm and under my nose. I looked
at my arm for bruises and could see blue spots appearing. Deciding I
should probably clean myself up, I went into the bathroom and washed my
face. I stared into the mirror wishing I wasn't alive. That night, my
father came home in a good mood, which made my mother happy too.
I got up early the next morning but I didn't go running. I wasn't in the
mood for it; I was so sore from the beating I had bore the day before. I
just took a shower and got ready for school. I left a little earlier than
usual so I could avoid my mother.
My first period class went by fast. Second period was next. I thought to
myself, why did second have to come after first!? I sat down in the lumpy
chair and looked at Miss Hannagan. But, for the first time, she wasn't
staring into my eyes; she was staring at the large bruise on my left arm.
"Excuse me a moment, Nicole", she said in a calm voice. She
returned fifteen minutes later and asked me how my day had been yesterday.
"So-so", I replied. And that was all that was said that period.
Third period, I got an urgent message that called me to the office. When I
got there, two men greeted me with big smiles.
"Hello Nicole. We are from Child Protective Services and we would
like to talk to you about your parents and those bruises on your arm.
Please, sit down". |
Carole
9th grade
Bakersfield, Ca USA |
| Hey everyone! The subject this story is based on is a major
problem in our world today. If you are or know any one who is being abused
by their parents, get help, soon. Thank you. |
Hiding From The Truth
Chapter One
"Okay, let me get this straight," I said, trying to process
everything Haven had just told me," Brandi told you that she is angry
at the world and that her life sucks?" "Yep, that is exactly
what she told told me. She also told me something else though. She said
that it seems to her like she has no friends. Worse yet, when she was
through telling me all this, my mind went completely blank. I didn't say
anything to her. I mean, our best friend basically just told me that she
was thinking about suicide and I didn't say anything to comfort her! Some
friend I must be." Haven was going completely nuts and I didn't blame
her.
"Wow," I thought," now everything is going together. I now know
why Brandi has not been acting like herself for the past month. If only I
would have realized this earlier. Brandi has not been talking, laughing,
or smiling to anyone for the past month and we didn't even think that
there was a problem."
Snapping back into the real world I realized that Haven was still going on
about how she should have said something to Brandi.
"Haven, it's okay," I said trying to calm her down," Brandi
seems fine today, just look at her. She was actually talking to us at
lunch and now she is over there talking to all our friends. Maybe we don't
have to worry anymore. Let's just wait and see how she holds out,
okay?"
"Okay, it sounds like a deal," Haven sighed.
I wasn't so sure if that was such a good idea though. But I was afraid to
tell anyone about it because what if Brandi is really fine? Then I would
feel stupid for getting Brandi into the mess of having people think that
she had mental problems. I just wanted to make myself and Haven think that
she would be just fine. So, as we sat outside after lunch watching Brandi
talking to our friends a few feet away from us I told myself," She is
going to be fine. Just wait and see."
Chapter Two
"I had the worst day the other day," Mandy was saying just as
Brandi walked into the room.
"Yeah, well everyday sucks for me. My life is crap," Brandi said
as she kept on walking down the stairs, leaving all of us stunned.
Haven, Brandi, and I had spent the night at Mandy's house and we were
getting ready to go sledding outside. As we were getting ready Haven,
Mandy, and I were talking about the days when nothing seems to go right.
We were in the middle of our conversation when Brandi had walked out of
the bathroom and made us realize that she wasn't better.
"I guess she isn't better," Haven whispered quietly. I could
only nod my head in agreement as the three of us sat there thinking about
Brandi and what she had said.
"I have to tell someone about Brandi. Even if she is just faking it
for the attention," I thought. I knew that I would never bring myself
to do it though. That is just the way that I am. I was to afraid that if I
told someone, and Brandi found out that I was the one who told, that she
would get angry at me. If only it wasn't so hard for me to tell an adult
that I might know someone who is thinking about suicide.
Soon enough though, we all started talking about other subjects and
finally went sledding. Nobody mentioned Brandi's problem but that was all
that I could seem to think of at the time. I was really starting to worry
about her.
"Okay," I thought. Trying to sort out my mind," first Brandi wanted
everyone little bit of attention that she could possibly get by
complaining about a hurt ankle. Then she wouldn't talk to anyone, not even
me. She didn't talk for almost a whole month. All that, plus what she had
told Haven, was almost a sure sign that she was thinking about suicide. I
know that we can't tell anyone about this though. Only Haven and I know
what Brandi might possibly be thinking. If only we could stop telling
ourselves that nothing will happen to her. It's almost as if we think that
she will get better if we ignore the problem. But I know that it doesn't
work that way."
Chapter Three
"Take that off your wrist right now!" I hissed at Brandi. We
were sitting in a school assembly listening to someone talk about a war
that they had been held prisoner in. Brandi was sitting next to me and was
showing me a rubber band that she had so tight around her wrist that her
hand was turning blue and purple. She was really starting to get on my
nerves the past few days with the rubber band on her wrist and cutting her
wrists and ankles. Whenever I would tell her to stop something she would
just ignore me and say some other lame comment.
"No, it is kind of cool," was her answer and the only answer I
have been getting out of her lately. I wanted to yell at her right there
but knew that I would be the one who would end of getting yelled at by the
teachers. So, I decided it would have to wait until after the assembly to
get all my stress out of me.
A few minutes later the assembly was over. I rushed to catch up with
Brandi and realized that the rubber band was still on her wrist. She was
taking this all to far. As I caught up with her I made her stop so she
would listen to me.
"Brandi, you have really been acting strange these past few days and
it is really starting to bother me. Now, take that thing off your wrist
right now!" I said furiously, but it didn't seem to affect Brandi, it
seemed like she didn't even hear me.
"I am so tired," she said, basically blowing off my comments
that I had just made to her.
"Look at me right now Brandi. I want to make sure that you hear me
clear. I told you last week, when you said that you have only been getting
three hours of sleep each night, that you had better be getting more sleep
at night. If you don't start sleeping more and I find out, I am going to
tell your parents. Also, you have to take that rubber band off of your
wrist before it causes any damage. Oh, and one last thing. If I find that
you cut yourself up anymore, I am going to do something about it." I
had taken way to much crap from Brandi that week and it was all starting
to spill out of me. What made it so difficult was that all the girls that
do stuff like Brandi has been doing usually end up killing themselves. I
didn't want to think that way though. I wanted to believe that Brandi
wasn't acting like that.
"Whatever you say," she said as she just walked right past me
and into the choir room. I just stood in the hallway and tried to fight
back the tears that I could feel welling up in my eyes. I was so afraid
and confused that I just wanted to let it all out but, I knew that I had
to be strong. I was hurting so much inside to see my best friend acting
the way she was.
"Why does this have to happen to me?" I cried out inside of me.
Chapter Four
Walking through the school hallway at the end of the day isn't always
easy, it can get you real stressed. I still had not cooled down from
yelling at Brandi earlier during the assembly either, so it probably
wasn't a good idea to be walking with her to my lock. It only took her one
question to get me all upset at her again.
"Do you have a sharp pencil that I can use?" Brandi asked me
casually as if it was not a big thing.
"No, I am not going to give you a sharp pencil just so you can cut
yourself with it," I was trying not to yell that loud but it was
hard. Brandi didn't say anything after that. She stopped at our friend,
Jennifer's locker, while I kept on walking towards mine.
When I got back to Jennifer and Brandi, I found Brandi looking through
Jennifer's pencil bag with one pencil already in her hand.
"Jennifer," I practically yelled as I grabbed the bag and pencil
from Brandi," don't let her have anything sharp. She only wants to
cut herself."
"Fine, I'll just get a pencil from someone else then." Brandi
said as she turned and walked away getting lost in the crowd.
"What was all that about?" Jennifer asked me as she turned
around to face me.
"Well, Brandi has been cutting her wrists and ankles lately. She says
that she doesn't cut her ankles but I know that she does. She does admit
to cutting her wrists though but doesn't really seem to care when I tell
her that she shouldn't do that." I said. Then I added softly," Watching
her hurt herself hurts me."
I guess that Jennifer realized how much I was hurting because she put her
arms around me and held me like she really cared.
"It will be okay. If anyone is strong enough to deal with a situation
like this, it is you. You always know what the right thing to do is."
Jennifer said calmly.
"I know, but for once in my life I don't have the strength to do what
I know is right," I answered quietly with tears in my eyes. I felt so
weak. I would never have thought that it would be so hard to tell someone
that you think a friend may be thinking about suicide, but it is, and I
couldn't do it.
Chapter Five( 2 months later during summer vacation)
"Brandi is the worst one of all," Haven said. Haven and Mandy
were telling me about the attitudes of everyone on their soccer team as we
sat at a table by the neighborhood pool.
"You remember when she was cutting her wrists and showing us, right?
Well, when our coach asked her what the cuts were from she just told him
that they were nothing and walked away. She never would go through a whole
practice without complaining about something either. Oh, she also told me
the other day that we never include her in anything and if we do, she
thinks that she is always a last resort. She has been fine for the past
month but now she is starting to act all weird again. I mean, I know that
she thinks that her life is shitty and all, but she should at least be
able to recognize that we are her friends." Haven said.
"Gosh, I thought that she was getting better too. I haven't really
seen her do anything dramatic like cutting herself for a while. I haven't
really talked to her though either, so I guess that would probably be why
I haven't heard her say anything about her crappy life." I was just
beginning to feel okay about Brandi but now that bad feeling was back in
the pit of my stomach. I wasn't sure if I could go through all this again
either.
"Well," Haven started," I am not sure what to do about the
girl. I think that we should just keep ignoring the fact that she has
negative thoughts in her head. We did it before so why not keep doing it?
I know that she is the type of girl that would never put her life at risk.
Now, how about we put this conversation on hold and go swimming. I am
burning up just sitting here talking."
Even I knew that what Haven suggested wasn't the right answer to our
problem, but both of us were afraid to face the horrible truth. We just
didn't want ourselves to think about what Brandi could be thinking. Still,
when I got home later that night all I could think about was Brandi. I
wanted to tell someone, but what made it hard was that sometime Brandi was
fine and other times I really worried about her. So right when I would be
getting up the courage to tell someone, she would seem fine and then I
would think that I was just being over worried.
Chapter Six
~Larissa~
I know how much of a pain I must have been for the past three
months. You will probably be relived when I tell you that I am going to
stop all of this. Never again will you have to hear me complaining or have
to yell at me to stop doing something. By the time you read this I will be
home alone while my parents are at the pool. I anyone cares about where I
will be, I will be in the garage free of all the pain I have been in for
the past few months. You could not possibly understand how much I hate
myself right now. Please do me one favor though. Please, Please, never let
yourself turn to what I did, you are better than that. You have a great
life ahead of you, unlike I did. You have been a great friend and nobody
else will ever be quite like you.
~Lots of Love~
Brandi
"No, no, no. This cannot be happening to me right now," I
thought, my head spinning as I reread those awful words on my computer
screen over and over again. Only yesterday I had been talking to Haven
about how Brandi was going to be fine. We should have done something.
"Mom," I screamed," I am going over to Brandi's
house."
I ran out of my house and grabbed my bike as fast as I could hoping
that it wasn't to late, but I had a horrible feeling that it was. Peddling
over to Brandi's house only took about five minutes. The whole time I
could only think," This cannot be happening. Brandi, you are better
than this. You can't do this to yourself."
I saw Brandi's house coming up and noticed that her parents were
still at the pool. Pulling into the driveway I jumped of my bike and ran
to the side garage door that was always unlocked. Taking a deep breath I
opened the door.
"Brandi!," I shrieked when I saw her limp body laying on
the ground. Both cars in the garage were running so I ran to open the
garage door before passing out. Then I rushed over to where Brandi's body
was crumpled on the ground. Frantically I searched for a pulse, but I
couldn't find one.
"Brandi, you had a better life than this. You can't do this to
me!" I sobbed as I tried to do CPR, but I knew that she was already
gone. I sat crying with Brandi's body laying on my lap.
After sitting in the garage for about twenty minutes I finally got
up to make a few phone calls. I slowly walked into Brandi's house and
picked up their phone. First I dialed Haven's number.
"Hello, Hunt residence, this is Haven speaking," I loved
the way that Haven answered the phone. She was the only person in her
family who answered that way and it always made me smile, but it couldn't
make me smile today.
"Haven, this is Larissa," I choked back the tears, "
you need to come over to Brandi's house right now. She finally went
through with it."
"Oh my," I could tell that she was already crying, "
I'll be right over."
The next call was going to be a lot more difficult. I slowly dialed
the pool's phone number. I asked for either Mr. or Mrs. Kentwood and
waited to tell them the horrible news about their daughter.
"Hello," I recognized Brandi's mom answer the call.
"Ummm....Mrs. Kentwood, this is Larissa. I am afraid that I have some
bad news for you," I couldn't stop the tears from coming this
time," I just found Brandi in the garage with the cars running.
She...she is dead. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I should have been more like a
friend and told someone before it was too late. I am sorry. I really
am."
I heard Mrs. Kentwood scream and them Mr. Kentwood asking what the problem
was. When he finally got the answer I could only hear him repeating the words," No,
no,no,no."
Finally Mrs. Kentwood got back on the phone and said," We will be
right home."
I hung up the phone but then picked it back. I had to make one final call.
I dialed the numbers 9-1-1. When the dispatcher answered my call I took a
deep breath and said," My friend just committed suicide," my
voice was shaking uncontrollably," I found her in the garage with two
cars running." I only wished that it would have all been a bad dream,
but it wasn't. My nightmare had just come true.
Chapter Seven
"Brandi and I have been friends since third grade. We were best
friends on the same soccer team until I switched teams. We were reunited
soon after in junior high and we were then inseparable. I never would have
guessed then that we would go through as much pain as we did in the past
three month. Only three months ago did I realize that Brandi was hurting
herself physically and mentally. It hurt me so much to listen to her talk
and to watch her. When she spoke, I could hear the pain in her voice. I
would cry silently as I listened to her be in so much agony. I only wish
now that I would have told someone then what I knew. I didn't tell anyone
though and that is what killed her. I should have gotten up the courage to
tell an adult that I knew someone who might possibly be thinking about
suicide. But, I didn't. I will forever regret that I didn't tell anyone
because I could have had one more best friend by my side right now. I
tried to make myself believe that she would get bet!
ter because that is what I wanted. When I thought she was getting better,
she was only getting worse. If I could go back to last week I would
tell someone that Brandi was possibly thinking of suicide. Finding Brandi
in the garage was the worst moment of my life. I will never, ever forget
what I felt when I opened that garage door.
The only thing that I can do now is to spread the word. If you have a
friend that you suspect to be thinking of suicide, please tell someone.
Don't be afraid like I was. You can save a life. Don't be like me and kill
your best friend because of something you didn't do. Brandi, if you are
listening, please forgive me. I will miss you so much and never will I
forget you. I love you so much." Getting towards the end of my speech
tears were flowing down my cheeks. Brandi's parents had asked me to make a
speech during the funeral service and I had agreed with no regrets.
I stepped down from the podium in front of the funeral service and sat
down next to Haven and Mrs. Kentwood. Haven handed me a tissue to wipe
away my tears and Mrs. Kentwood took my hand into hers. She squeezed my
hand and when I looked into her glistening eyes I saw Brandi in them. I
started crying even harder and put my head on Mrs. Kentwood's shoulder.
The only thing I could do now was let myself cry, letting go of all the
pain inside of me. Brandi was gone, and she wasn't coming back. It was
time for me to stop hiding from reality and face the truth. |
Jessica
9th grader
Toledo, Ohio USA |
| This story is based on a true story that actually happened
to me. I wrote this story hoping that it would help me cope and face the
truth about what happened to my best friend. I enjoy writing and hope to
start another story soon |
Plug Me In
Plug me in.
Into the warm summer night.
Into dull consciousness
and a numb sensation
of being suspended in midair
until you open your eyes.
Plug me into a period of life
void of all responsibility,
where a child's hands glow
of a firefly gem.
Into a world soft as warm cotton.
Can you feel it against your face?
Plug me into an ocean
of velvet, with silvery slits,
where the slippery carpet
pricking my bare feet
cannot distract me from that sea.
Plug me into the hot forest.
Into a wet dream.
Into the beat of a heart
beneath thick layers of sweating flesh.
Lay me in the wild, in the dark.
Lay with me.
Plug me into your warm summer night.
|
Jenn
12th grader
Cincinnati, OH, USA |
| About the author of Plug Me In - I'm Jenn, 16, and live in
Ohio in a constant state of boredom and/or apathy. I love poetry as an
outlet of my entire self, and favor it most among my other hobbies of
drawing and story writing. |
The End
The wind howls outside the window,
Rattling her life.
She sinks deeper into the everlasting drifts formed in her mind.
She looks around and sees,
Life has become dull,
No longer the keen razor edge she used to walk.
Life is like a burden dropped onto her stooped shoulders,
A burden she is cursed to carry for all eternity.
With a heavy heart she stands to leave.
Standing on the cliffs,
Bombarded with the wind and rain she wavers,
The wind is strong,
But she is stronger.
Suddenly the cliff is empty and she is falling,
Every second like a year.
She hits the water soundlessly,
No ripples show upon the surface.
Darkness stays, all is gone,
None wake,
The dawn will not come without the sun.
|
Anastassia
7th grader
Pleasanton, CA |
About the author of The End. My name is Anastassia, i live
in Cali, an internet junkie, err... that's pretty much it.
If you want to know anything else, well that's just too bad, isn't it? |
A UNIVERSALLY
COMMITTED CRIME
You my friend, yes you, I find you despicable. You are guilty of one of
the most horrific crimes that anybody could ever commit. You are a
disgrace to the name of humanity. You disgust me and repulse me because
there is no need for you to do what you do, there is no cause for you do
to what you do, but you still do it. I bet your wondering what I am
talking about aren't you? You obviously have no idea, do you? You consider
yourself innocent and you consider me some psychopath who is ranting and
raving because she has nothing better to do. You think I'm being
unreasonable, don't you? Let me tell you though, it is you who is the
unreasonable one. Unreasonable cannot describe what you are considering
what you have done. You and only you are the unreasonable one. You still
don't know what you have done, do you? In fact, now you have decided that
you are going to find out my name and address and book me an urgent
appointment with a nearby psychiatrist. It's hopeless! You won't gues!
s your offence; you are too clueless. I'll give you a big hint.
Think hard. Can you remember that time when you were walking down the
street and you saw that group of rough, untidy, tall, muscular, youths?
You saw them with their large gold chains, piercings in every place,
tattoos and their shifty looking eyes. They were walking in their large
mob and with hands in their pockets, you were both walking in opposite
direction on the same street. You saw them and your heart began to pound,
you started to recite psalm 19 from the bible, you started to sweat
furiously. To you they looked so "dodgy", what if they mugged
you or savagely attacked you? Your fear got the better of you and you
crossed to the other side of the road after giving them a filthy look. If
only you had known.
You see those "dodgy" boys, were actually on their way to their
church youth group. They often got together in this youth group to think
of ways in which they could raise money for children's charities. You
thought they didn't notice when you crossed over the road and gave them a
filthy look. You thought they wouldn't care, but they did care. They knew
it was probably because of the way they looked that you reacted that way
to them. They felt so hurt because of it too. They didn't like being
treated the way you treated them that day. You acted as if they were not
even human beings, when really they were probably the nicest bunch of guys
that anyone could ever hope to meet. But it is too late now, you had
already made up your mind that they were up to no good. You already judged
them. You already hurt them.
Which brings me on to your crime. Guessed what it is? I am guilty of it,
everyone else is guilty of it, but most importantly you are guilty of it.
You my dear friend are PREJUDICED.
Please stop today. |
Eki
10th grader
England |
| About the author of A Universally Committed Crime. I really
like writing essays and other stuff too. I channel all the things that are
going on in my head into my writing. In this essay prejudice is a subject
i feel strongly about so i just poured out what i thought onto paper.
Thanxs for reading! |
"Who am I?"
I am me-
And I am completely original.
Yet at the same time,
I am my mother.
I am my father.
I am my teacher.
I am my bestfriend.
I am my other friend,
And my other friend,
And my other friend.
I am Shakespeare.
I am Picasso.
I am Holden Caulfield.
I am Oprah Winfrey.
I am also your thought.
I am your eyes.
I am your smile.
I am you.
But at the same time,
I am me.
And I am completely original. |
|
Lina
11th grader
Athens, Greece |
| My name is Lina . I am an army brat, so I've practically
lived the world. I'm sixteen years-old, and I was born in El Paso, TX. I
am a Greek-American now living in Greece. My motto in life is "mind
over matter", truth is, it helps me through everything: school,
family problems, sports. It's my key for continuance. |
Baseball
The count is full
the bases loaded
bottom of the 9th.
The team is losing 7-3
You need this hit for your team to win
The Crowd is cheering
their spirits high.
You swing...a hit!
You watch it soar.
It sails over the fence
You jump with excitement
The crowd lets a roar.
You have won it
It is all over.
You are the champion
|
Max
9th grader
Clay, AL , USA |
Waiting
He sits.
Not in anticipation.
But with a sense of completion
He sits.
I wait.
I wait in hopeful expectation.
I wait for him
To stand.
But I wait in vain.
For he does not know I wait,
Or at least not on him.
Fear forbids me tell him,
He may not stand,
Even if he knows that
I wait.
And so I prefer to wait,
Wait in hopeful expectation,
Than for him to know that I wait
And yet never stand. |
Dionne
10th grader
Barbados |
Love
Prelude
Here is a story I think you'll enjoy
It's about a pretty girl and a shy little boy.
Finally together they made quite a pair,
Although it took them some time to get there,
Two years to be exact.
So I'll tell you the story and that'll be that.
Part 1
The girl lived her life, and the boy lived his own.
Through them both, intelligence shown.
One day the girl looked at the boy not the same
And soon her friend gave the feeling a name.
Her friend said "Hey girl, that look in your eye
You get it whenever you look at that guy.
I know on him you have a crush."
And boy that girl she ever did blush.
She denied and denied.
And to him she did lie.
He asked did she like him and she said "No way"
Then she turned her back to walk away.
But when she changed her mind and turned around
The boy was nowhere to be found.
Part2
Next came two more years of moping around
A lasting relationship neither one had found.
A school year that was barely new.
One where friends came two-by-two.
A mutual friend thought they'd make quite a pair.
Although she didn't know the history that was already there.
One night on the net they got together,
Not knowing then it would last forever.
Now they live together in a house with a mote.
To each other their hearts they do devote.
And sadly now I tell you my friend
The story I started has come to and end.
They filled their lives with love and laughter,
And together they've live happily ever after.
|
Jeni
10th grader
New Madison, OH |
| My name is Jeni and I wrote this about my boyfriend and me.
It's all true just with a few twist. Although some of it is a hopeful look
at the future. |
|
