Korean Soap Opera Inspired High School Story

As the title suggests I wrote this after watching a Korean Soap Opera ... so if it sound a little melodramatic or over the top blame the soap opera. I just wanted to see if I could write inside the mind of one of those really messed up character you would find in any Soap Opera. I think the main character might just be a politician's daughter.

I turned the knob of the shower very slowly and took in the last couple of drops that hit me. My breathe was slow and I opened the door to the shower and shivered as the cold wisps of air started to hit me. I quickly got a towel and started to dry my body. The only part of me that wasn't wet was my hair which was tied into a tight bun. It took me years to learn not how to get my hair wet and I finally perfected my technique.

I wrapped the damp towel around me and stared into the steamed up mirror. The face staring back at me was not the face everyone saw. My eyes were full of sadness and my mouth in a straight line. I hated doing this but I had to. My father and mother couldn't accept a sad me. Oh no they needed their daughter to be perfect. I looked away from the mirror since part of me was ready to smash it with my bare fist.

I walked to the bathroom door and made my way to my room. No one was at my house it was just me. My room was more sickening to look at than my face was. Everything so perfect.

Anytime anyone came in I knew what thoughts raced through their head because they said it out loud. "Wow Alice your room is so nice and neat. I wish my room could be that way." The bright colored bed spread, my desk, chair, and even my dresser reeked with the perfect girl I pretended to be.

On my bed where the clothes I picked out to wear. The name brands which made them overly priced where obvious on them. I dropped my towel and quickly dressed myself. After that I walked towards my dresser and looked at myself in that mirror. I took deep breathes. Glancing at my almost straight A report card just made everything twice as worse. I could already hear my mom and dad in my head. "Alice how could you get a B - in Math. Next time do better." They were never satisfied ... never. That was the part that hurt me the most.

I looked back into the mirror and picked up the various makeup I usually applied. I knew I didn't need it. I was one of those lucky girls that won the genetic lottery. My outside appearance was beautiful. In a way my makeup flawed in. The flaw in it was what I liked. Although no one else noticed except him. I won't forget how he just glanced at me that one time and told me I shouldn't wear it. He wasn't the usual him I knew either. Maybe because we were alone. Despite that I still liked him.

After I was done with my makeup I let my black hair down and watched it fall into perfect place. The person in the mirror was the one I liked. The one I craved to be but sadly she wasn't me. I was going to put on the mask of her though. Become her. I stopped as a pang went through my body.

I grabbed onto the side of my dresser and fought wildly with myself to fight the oncoming set of tears. I don't know why they choose to come now. I couldn't cry now though ... I had to go and meet my friends at the mall. I grabbed tighter onto the dresser but the tears wouldn't give up. Something deep inside me was coming. It was the monster that was born from my deep hating of myself. The me that knew I was a failure, worthless, idiot, and worst of all a fake.

I let go of my dresser and fell back leaning my back against my bed and started to cry. I didn't make a sound, because that would give the true me satisfaction. The hot tears ran down my face and I knew they were going to ruin my makeup. Each tear that fell made my makeup look worse. The hating of myself was also growing with the coming tears. I fell onto my knees and reached towards the dresser drawer that contained my cellphone.

Opening up the drawer I reached in and removed my cell phone. The true me was screaming out wanting to show the world herself. My mask was fighting against it. My internal struggles were shown through my external struggle. I kept the fight with my tears up but they were getting stronger and stronger. I never felt pangs this strong but the pangs in general weren't out of the ordinary.

I had this mask on ever since I was in sixth grade and I could keep it on well. It disturbed me after 5 years of keeping this mask on it was falling apart now. I finally let out a sob and gave into the temptation of taking off the mask. Something deep inside me told me it was the right thing to do. I had the urgent need to tell someone ... to reveal the true side of me.

Going through the names in my cell phone list I landed on the girl who saw the most real me. My best friend. I stared at the letters that made her name. J-U-L-I-A I spelled her name over and over in my head. It had a comforting feeling. I pressed the call button on my cellphone and put it to my ear while still crying.

The phone rang once but no answer. Please answer Julia. Twice. "Hello," Julia said.

"Julia I need to talk to someone." I said while fighting back the sobs. Despite my attempt it was obvious i was crying.

"Are you okay?"

"I need to talk in person." My voice was a little stronger this time. "Can you meet me somewhere?"

"Yeah sure where at?" She sounded worried and in all honest truth that seemed to soothe me a little. She cared even though I was crying ... maybe she would like the real me.

"How about the playground at the elementary school?"

"Ok I will see you there and Alice?"

"Yeah."

"Don't do anything stupid."

We said goodbye and I got up still crying.

It was a weird feeling. All my emotions were turning and twisting. I ran over to the bathroom sink and washed off all my makeup and made my way down to the first story of my house. Opening up the door I started running towards the school. It was nearby my house so I would be there in about 5 minutes. My tears were stopping little by little and I felt my mask go on.

When I got to the school though I saw Julia waiting at the corner looking worried. The look she gave me. The concern and the care of that look tore off my mask and I started crying again. This time it would be different though. It wasn't a bad cry, I didn't have to fight it. I had a shoulder to cry on and a best friend who I knew would accept the flawed me.

Each step I took closer to her I felt the two me colliding. My mind was racing and my emotions were at the highest I ever felt them. The tears were falling fast and followed by a sniffle or a sob. "Julia..." I said looking up at her. She came and just hugged me. "I need to tell you something." I said that in between broken sobs. "I'm tired." I could tell Julia was in shock. I was in a way too. I didn't know it was going to be this bad. "I'm can't keep it up. This act, I need to end it." My crying started to slow. This was as worse as it was going to get and she was still here.

"Let it end then," Julia said. My shock grew bigger at her words. Part of me was relieved. She had accepted me. The flawed girl who's name was Alice. A silence erupted between us. Not the bad silence though. The silence filled with understanding. The wind swept past us both marking a new beginning for me. Not the girl with a mask on. I wasn't the sell out anymore.

Everything was better now but deep down inside I knew it wasn't going to always get better. Deep down inside I knew ... someone like me didn't deserve this.

One Night's Dream

A while back I had this dream. It was weird so I decided to write it down and finally decided upon posting it. Warning ... it might be slightly melodramatic XD.

It was the usual second story classroom I was in. Big open windows on the left wall allowed the setting sun's rays come in and bathe the room with their golden orange colors. Six rows and desks with six desks in each row faced the chalkboard and teachers desk in front of the room. To the right side of the room was the door that many students entered and left from each day. I sat in the desk third row, fourth desk. For some odd reason this scene brought in a very uninvited nostalgia.

I felt my hand shake and the pit in my stomach grew worse. Rage seeped through my veins like gasoline running through pipes made of fire. Nothing seemed right anymore. How could someone who claimed to be my friend and who I considered the best of them do this. It use to be so different and the thoughts in my head use to be admiration but now were doubt. How swiftly and how carefully planned you shattered my opinion of you. The door to the room open and I see your body emerge from the hallways embrace.

The golden orange lights seeped over your body. I stood up from the desk fire running through my body. It all seemed to enter my tongue and eyes and I looked up at you. "I hate you." I yelled my words filled with wrath intended to pierce you like a sharp weapon. When I yelled at you my voice sounded oddly different it didn't belong to me but somebody else. I couldn't bear to be in the same room with you so I started to walk about. I muttered final words as I was several feet away from you. Your eyes opened in shocked and I knew they had stabbed you viciously. My heart sent a shot of adrenaline through me during that small and brief victory.

Two steps away from you I was about to turn and brush past you but your strong hands grabbed my shoulders. With a strong force you pushed me back. I hit the foot of wall in-between two windows. I looked up filled with loathing. Our eyes met but something was wrong. Your eyes were filled with something more than hurt. They were layer on with submission. The emotions that circled through them sent chills throughout my body. It was obvious you didn't want to be left.

Despite that I stood up and started to walk forward. You grabbed my shoulders and pushed me back into the wall. I felt like your eyes were eating me. I got up again my rage growing. I was pushed back again. I don't know how many times I hit the wall that evening. We were locked into a battle of emotion and of will. Of course I could have just walked the other way but our eyes were locked and silently we were waging a battle.

Thud! I hit the wall again. Your eyes slowly destroyed the barrier that my anger put up. Tears started falling down my face as I slid down the wall and sat on the ground. "How could you?" My voice cracked because I was nearly sobbing. You just continued to look down at me. I looked down when you started moving towards me. You sat down next to me. We sat there until the next day. No words were spoken but then of course those weren't needed.

The Execution

I was just randomly writing and I ended up writing this about a pious man during Medieval Times.

In the letter you never wrote to me, you said many things. Some good and some bad. The letter you wrote to me was one that poured out your heart to me not only by the words but by the tear stained paper it was written on. In the letter you never wrote you told me I was your best friend and that my last ten years of my life were not wasted in vain. It reassured me that you did care about me and now in my time before death it consoled me and finally allowed me to accept the cruel punishment that was bestowed upon me.
Too bad the letter was only a figment of my imagination. Some worthless thought to think about before the unsteady wooden platform beneath me is removed and my last breathe will be brought in right before the rope tightens. The things I remember now sends swift churns through my stomach as nostalgia grips my nerve racked body. We were so naive as boys. You were always the smart and strong one. You knew how to make everyone laugh and your tongue was like silver. The perfect boy to some but I could see more. I saw the boy that could become ten times better.
Unlike you I wasn't strong or I wasn't fast. My intelligent was above average but no where near yours. I was an average looking boy while you looked like a handsome god taken out of myth. But I had something you didn't. I was gifted with what you could never achieve. The abilities I had could not be learned because they are given. Like a malediction muttered upon the unlucky princess in the fairy tales.
The benefaction God had given me allowed me to understand emotions. See what people hide deep down. Those little hidden wants and desires. I knew how to manipulate them and have people act and do what I wanted. When people had pain I could take it away. If they wanted to be happy I could tell them the things they wanted to hear. I knew praises that gave them smiles and self worth.
My mind emerged from the images of the past and I looked forward at all those cold starving people looking at me. I was the example of what happened to people who thought differently. Who broke the bounds of this dying society. I stared at the people right before they dropped the board and yelled out one sentence. And the crowds face changed. I fell down and the rope gripped my neck. I died knowing at least I gave them courage.

The Monster

This is something I wrote when I did something I really shouldn't have. I don't know what it is but I am thinking it is leaning more towards poetry.

How easy it is for the boy to cross the line. For you see his eyes are clouded and his emotions are uneven. He's a cross between unrequited and unheard. His anger runs rampant and his words are tinted with coldeness that he doesn't notice.

The words that she speaks repeat in his head like a mantra and he starts to see the monster he unleashes. It's great big eyes staring at the prey. It's claws out ready to dig into the body of flesh and it's black furred feline figure waiting to push someone onto the edge of reason.

So as the anger subsides the boy feel remorse and looks upon himself with sad eyes. His voice comes out trying to make soft spoken words but they come out all wrong. The boy understands why you want to run. He silently waits though hoping you will understand and stay.

You see the monster comes out prying. It's tied to being worried, to being hurt, to feeling ashamed, to feeling bad, and to caring. It's born to protect but ends up destroying what the boy so dearly treasures.

The boy now lies on the floor. Hoping he could be understood. He lost his careful composure and now he is paying for it. Slowly caging the beast so it won't run unbridled again.

But who knows how well the cage will hold? The boy is working his hardest leaning his body against the door as the monster slams against it with it's muscular body and it's piercing yellow eyes staring so intently at the boy. The boy can smell the putrid breathe of the monster and feels like giving up. But he fights with all his strength against the cage door. He's wishing and praying that the beast stays caged.

Yet neither knows how long the cage will hold. Just remember the boy is going to be trying now and forever more. He will fight against this monster like he did the others and show that he is stronger. For that's all he can do besides saying sorry.

I was killed for sport.

I tried to imagine what it would feel like to be a deer. This is what I wrote.

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The forest was quiet which meant it was safe. I ran swiftly across till I reached a little stream that had clear water run through. Lowering my head I took a couple of sips. The cold water refreshing and rejuvenating me from the inside out. I heard a crack of a twig and I bolted. Running faster and faster I felt my body turn into something different. I became a fast animal running for safety. I jumped over fallen trees while darting my way through the still standing ones.

A boom echoed out acoress the forest resonating inbeteween every tree and across every riverbed. pain made its way acoress my back leg and I fell with it twitching. I felt warmth along with the pain and tried to crane my neck to see. I kept on trying to get up but my leg was being arped by that dull burning pain.

I fell back down. wanting to get back up. But I couldn't muster the energy required. I heard a shrill and menacing bark and saw from teh corner of my little beady eye a wolf like beast. Then it come to me. The stories that I heeard since I was a fawn all make sense now. This other creature came up to me and he spoke some strange magic spell to the wolf like beast. It stopped barking and backed out of view. The creature lifted up a metallic piece of something and I heard a boom.

Color Poem

This is my last poem. I adapted it from my color story.

In a nostalgic dream I sat under one of the many trees

The filtered light from the tree put me deeper and deeper into a wayward longing

I missed my childhood and the innocence you still carried then

Worry free still young and naive living in a pure world of bliss and joy

Behaviors not too closely watched for stigmas

Free from societies rigid rules and stale traditions

The horrid chains modern life ties will become a cumbersome burden

This attempt to figure out the basic essence of childhood

Light hearted sigh

Filled with an unusualy tint of happiness and cheer

Emotion strong and brilliant

Something will happen to make this emotion pale but I feel it in my veins right now

Bathed in this feeling timely splashes wash over me

Poetry

So I decided to write an acrostic poem about poetry itself. It took me about an hour but this is what I got.

Perhaps I am mistaken
Or merely deluded
Either way poetry's flow
Tires to elude my writing hand
Right on to the point
You stop reading this

Bomb Haiku

This is one of the three poems I wrote for class. I wrote it after reading a little about atomic bombs.

The bombs fall faster
Remains litter broken earth
What have we become?

Top Ten Reasons To Love LOLCATS 4'sho ^_^;;

So up till now I did serious stuff but I have to confess my love for lolcats and why you should love them too.

1. They make you feel warm and fuzzy inside. 
2. It is original ... you have to admit.
3. They have their own language (Kitty Pigin).
4. The captions are white ... pretty white.
5. It makes people believe you have too much time on your hands. Because according to their logic what busy person would have time to look up cats.
6. Busy people who are stressed can become de-stressed by lolcats. (it has been clinically proven)

Ok so I can't find another 4 things to say but just look at these pictures.

7.

8.

9.

10.

Bathroom Introspection

This was an interior monologue I wrote one day during class. I tried to capture my thoughts that happened when going to the bathroom. ^_^

Going to the restroom. Christ I need to go pee bad. I am walking to the restroom. I hope no one is in there because it's awkward when there is. Big girls don't cry dun dun duhhhhh. That song was never really too catchy. In the restroom now. Oh laws of physics someone is at the urinals. I'll use a stall then. Lock the door... it won't lock. UGH WHY DOES THIS HAPPEN TO ME!!!!!!! Shouldn't they have fixed this stall by now? Maybe I should tell a teacher or something. They hold the power at this school ... I think. Well the principal-nator has the supreme power. Okay screw thh lock if someone walks in, I'll just walk out. I'm safe at school... safe. Restrooms still freak me out. Ever since those park sex scandals in the restrooms. Also those Republican dudes sex scandels. Man Lincoln must be turning in his grave when he looks at the Republican party.

Wow there is no toliet paper in the dispenser. What if I had to take a crap ... I'd be screwed. Time to go pee. Unzip the zipper and aim. Oh crap hitting the seat!!!! Adjust. Ok good. I wonder if Jesus peed. Wow think of deities peeing. How weird ... Buddha. Did he pee in a toliet ? India is a cool place. I want to visit the big Buddha statue there before I die and see the Jains. To sweep the floor so you won't step on bugs... those nonviolence practices own Ghandi's. I wonder if Ghandi like peeing sitting up or down. I prefer standing it's faster. Care bears pee rainbows!!!! Well I don't know that for sure but it's possible. Ok done peeing. Zip up zipper and time to wash hands.

Wow the water faucet is stuck .. the water is flowing. Soap up hands and rinse. A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q ... do you have to sing the whole alphabet to really wash your hands. Maybe Trish lied. I wonder it we are going to the hospital. Didn't Joyce say sing "Happy Birthday" twice? Eh scrw this. Dry the hands. Paper towels are so rough. Ah!!! there is a mirror. My hair is curly.. why thought? Maybe it has to do with atom structure. I want to go to Berkeley. Can I get in though? Hmmm What was that songs name? I'm walking up the stairs... oh freak I almost fell. Woah I could have died. What if I did? Who would get my stuff? "Hey Aaron!!!" Oh wow Jenny just said that. Open door to class. I'm walking in.

This is my free write I did for class. We were allowed to write about anything. After watching a movie about drunk driving and teenage suicide on lifetime this came out. I originally wrote this in eighth grade but rewrote it this year to see how different it would come out. I like it even though I am not convinced it is the best I can do.

The chilly wind seemed to blow as if it was trying to play a game with the ancient trees. The massive existences proved nature's dominance over the man made objects that were nestled into the lush green grass. This place almost seemed like it was severed from time and the surrounding world that the trees blocked out. This place would be pleasant even joyful as if you should see children running along the grass laughing without a care in the world. But this place was far from that. It's presence brought respect out in everyone except maybe a few robustious teens. When entering the place you felt a veil of silence being put over you. Words that were spoken were said softly.

I stood in this place on a cold May afternoon. My being seemed out of place after standing there for so long just staring at what was in front of me. The setting sun was the only reminder that time still did exist even in places like these. I've never seen an animal in this place, not even an insect. They knew all to well the power that resides over it. My tears lingered down from my eyes, to the side of my nose, and finally onto my lips where they ended. My tears were the only smell I cared to smell. Warm and moist with a hint of salt. The best therapeutic smell that ever could exist in my opinion.

Cool tears stained my arms as my warm body battled against the silky algidity in front of me. I was surprised by how formidable my composition was. Before coming here I thought I would break down but I held myself together. Even if it was just because of the algidity my body was battling against. I never thought I would be standing in this place. No one ever thinks about standing in this place unless they are a hopeless pessimist. Eventually everyone ends up here to finally rest.

At the beginning of this year I could never have imagined certain events happening but they all did. Each one tearing away the black and white world that I saw. A world caked in innocence. Now I see the world with all it's vivid colors. Their impressive and overwhelming state make this world slightly more scary to live in than before. The colors even have smells. Like the smell of alcohol and the horrid way it stuck onto someone's breathe. Or the ear splitting sound of the color that came from hearing someone's contemplation of suicide.

Everyone eventually sees these colors and lose some if not all of that black and white world. Each person's story is different. Alone any of us could look like the bad guy or the person who caused all the suffering the colored world has to offer. But together you see the full story and how each person slowly led to their our salvation or destruction. For you see in my small understanding that's how life plays out. You can't blame other people for anything. Things happen because they happen. No one can change events and dwelling is just useless. You have to take the steps to eventually accept what happened and use it as strength not as some weight attached to you.

"Ein..." I heard her whisper my name softly and it emerged me from my thoughts for just a second. The algidity was the girl in front of me. Her usually warm body cold. For she stood in front of something that brought her immense pain and sadness. Something that was put there two days ago. She didn't say anything else and we just stood there in the cemetery. Both of us just staring at the grave.

The grave marked the place of a decaying body that lied six feet under. The body was slowly rotting away and it being there almost showed disrespect to the person who once possessed it. I held my friend close to me and heard her sobbing. I could do nothing now. Sometimes when you think of it you never expect people to get into the car after drinking. Or for them to make a mistake. Maybe, just maybe you never thought that you out of all drivers could get into a car accident while the person that was throwing up in the back seat didn't care to attach a seat-belt to the buckle. But it was people like you, that never did think, that killed people like him. Like my friend's brother.

Then people like me are stuck with the emotions that tend to plague our nightmares. Grief, sadness, and a terrible welling that starts in your stomach and seems to soak the rest of your cells. When someone dies they aren't the only one who die. No that would be much to black and white. Instead you see the grief of a mother, the tears of a sister, and then you get the thoughts of a friend. The thoughts that I held so precariously to.

Eulogies and Obituary

Note to teacher: Ask for them because I didn't want to post them up.

Merry Musings

One day while listening to the Japanese band Merry this just popped into my head. Oh and when I talk about church and preacher in here I'm talking about a cult. The boy is in a cult. I repeat cult. So please don't feel angry or offended if your religious.

The lights were dimly lit and the wind blew very gently swaying the shadows they casted ever so gently. He smiled with a gentle air about him as he lit candle after candle. The squeaky old boards that surrounded him seemed to whisper to him to continue. This old attic was alive tonight. Down to the cobwebbed crevices and dusty corners. A single broken window laid to one side of the attic perfectly broken. I say perfectly because it allowed wind to go through in such a way that it gave off a howling like sound.

Now the boy finished lighting the last of the 60 candles and their weak glow made chills go through his arms. He laid in the middle of the attic letting the cold wind rush over him. This was his secret hideout. A place adults could not linger or the fears of modern day city bustle couldn't touch him. Other people were so odd to him. Busy creatures working faster and faster. They always had something to do or somewhere to be. In this modern age they were gifted with technology and countless conveniences but they still couldn't do things fast enough.

He watched as one of the candles was blown out by the wind. He didn't bother to get up and light it. Why fight with nature? The boy had no idea of the storm coming. If he did he probably would have left for the church a while back. A cage or better yet a conformist institution ran by a totalitarian style preachers who seemed to lurk in every rule they imposed. Today he was lucky. While at church there was that brief chance to slip to here. His hiding place that was covered by orderless candles and several boxes of matches.

He picked this house because it was abandoned. Unlike other abandoned houses this one kept a sense of decency. It withstood the natural decay of time and stood proud, owner-less but proud. Rain started gently pattering onto the roof and the boy looked up. He didn't have much time left in this sanctuary. He quickly went to every candle and blew their little flame out as gently as he lit them. No need for him to be rough when they fought so hard to stay lit. As he reached the last candle he blew it out with regret. Regret for having to leave this place. Regret for being born into a society such as this one.

The boy climbed through the window and felt the light drizzle of rain hit him. Its cold wetness went through his shirt. The shingles on the roof that he was standing on were slippery and he edged his way slowly to where vines safely laid for him to climb down. Once he was down he started to equip himself with his church persona. He ran towards the church once his feet decided to move. Each step bringing him closer to the world he tried to ignore. Another 6 days and a half in this world until he could return to the sweet confines of his solitude. That abandoned house on the corner of Mulberry Street.

insert text here

A piece of Simon.

This is actually a piece of a project I am doing for my English class. In it we had to write a character journal about someone from Lord of the Flies. I choose the character Simon since it seemed like he mystified me the most. After writing the journal I realized I am a lot like him. To this day he remains my favorite character in literature.

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After I saw the faux beast that stood up with his parachute on the mountainside, I realized what the real beast was talking about. My throat lusted for drips of water and my body was trying to fall into the black abyss of sleep to regain energy, which it had been stripped of during the last couple of hours. But I couldn't listen to my body. I had to get down the mountain. I had to save the rest of the boys. Save them from themselves.

I made my way down the mountainside and felt my senses flash on and off. My body wasn't telling me to go but something else was. Something much deeper that seemed to lead my limp body towards the direction I needed to go. Each step I took my senses continued to flash on and off. I was living in an alternative world when they were off. A world that allowed me to see things in people that otherwise would not be seen. Not their faces or their bodies but things that made them tick. What made Piggy, Ralph, Jack, and even me go and continue to survive. This view of the world flickered on and off trading with the world that my senses gave me.

In the alternative world I felt the boys all together. I shuffled through some bushes and made my way to where they were. They were overrun by rampant fear and it reached down into all of them slowly chocking the ethics and reason out of their soul. What they feared was me, the bearer of what really was happening. The most afraid was the snake, Jack. I felt them surrounded me and my senses flopped back into working. Their chanting was rhythmically loud and along with the heat of their bodies it caved me into their inner workings. Workings of savagery, would cause them to harm me. My body felt beats and stabs from blunt spears. Skin tore and I tried to speak, tried to warn them. But my voice was lost within their ritualistic rendezvous with fear. They kept on repeating, "Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood! Do him in!"

While my body was being twisted with pain my senses switched off and I was there during the first day of the island. Standing in the middle I had Jack to my right and Ralph to my left. All the boys stood behind Ralph and the conch. Jack's face was twisted and blood was on his hands. Red blood, that glimmered in the sunlight. Its metallic smell and taste seemed to reach my mouth and nose. I knew it reached the others boy’s mouth's and nose's too. Drawing them ever so slowly the blood made boys switch sides. Each boy that left Ralph to join Jack made the blood spread a little on Jack's arms. It turned the skin that it covered with its sticky texture to scales.

Jack became something else with the blood covering him. He was a red snake with green eyes and a flickering tongue that tasted what made the boys fear. Slithering and hissing, he made his way around Ralph, coaxing more and more boys. Promising them, luring them, blinding them. Ralph blew the conch and the boys on Jack's side looked at him. They listened for a while leaving Jack powerless. For the boys he manipulated gave him power. He stood fixed on Ralph, the snake charmer and waited.

Soon Ralph's breath ran out and the conch’s trumpet sound ended. Ralph's charm ended on Jack. Jack's boys looked back lustfully at him; the boy, no the snake, who would bring them meat. The boy covered in the pigs and soon my own. The boys on Ralph's side continued to fall to Jack until the only one was left on Ralph's side. It was Piggy. The conch was cracking and Ralph could not charm Jack again. Jack towered above them all. Jack, now covered fully in blood, started to do just the opposite. He enticed the snake charmer. Now Ralph and Piggy went to stand behind Jack and I felt the snake's eyes look at me.

My senses flashed on again and I felt pain. I saw all the boys, even Ralph, my hero in the circle around me. I stumbled through their circle and made my way towards the edge of a cliff. They followed and all jumped on me. I felt them bite, scratch, stab, and worst of all the rhythmic pound of fists that matched their chanting. Through each pound of a fist or savage tear at my skin I heard the laughing of the beast. "I told you, you were going to have fun." He said it mockingly. "These boys think you're batty. Too bad you are or maybe they would have listened to you." His laugh pierced into me trying to break apart who I was. My heart was wrapped in the laugh and I felt tears come to my eyes.

"Break down little Simon. Why don't you fight back little Simon?" I didn't want to listen to his words. I wanted to say something to him but this time my tongue wasn't the only thing that swelled. My body swelled from the beatings and I couldn't move it. Once my body had enough of the beating the pain went to my soul. The beast's laughs turned more sinister and then they ended. The boys scattered as rain started to fall. I knew I was dead on the sand. I’m now in a place out of the beast’s grasp. Elevated above it all I watched my body leak blood as the sand around it hungrily slurped it up. I had won against the beast. It may have destroyed my body but my soul did not break. My soul withstood the beast’s hate, anger, savagery, and even that mocking laugh. That mocking laugh, the only thing I think I truly ever despised.

Midnight Monsters

For this story we had to write a childhood narrative.

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The clock struck nine P.M. and I felt a wave of excitement run through me. Tonight would be the first night I slept by myself in my own room. I could tell tonight was going to be a brave new journey into the previously unexplored life of sleeping alone. Before my sister and I had our beds in the same room, which forced us to put up with each other.

I practically jumped for joy for her annoying tendencies in the morning would finally cease to annoy me. For some reason even to that day I still was annoyed by her waking me up playing with her Barbies. Especially when she tried to pretend one was a boy since she had no boy Barbies. Plus on those mornings when I refused to get up I wouldn’t feel her strong brute punch in the stomach as an alarm clock.

I perked up my head when I heard the familiar call from my parent’s room telling us to go to bed. I ran to my room not even waiting for the second more threatening call. Each step allowed thoughts of freedom to be unburied from the recess of my subconscious and those thoughts rang through my mind. How grow up I was finally being able to sleep by myself.

“Sparky, Scooby, Fest, Pug, and Steve.” I said addressing my stuffed animals as if I was a military commander. “Tonight we are on our own.” I lined them up on my headboard and looked all around my new room. It looked like my sister’s room. Plain white walls and a single old bed with a creaky mattress that had several springs that stood higher than the others which really hurt your back if you slept the wrong way. The glorious difference in this room was my sister wasn’t in it.

The first several minutes of me trying to sleep were peaceful bliss until I noticed how the darkness around me could be concealing monsters or some other kind of horrible beast. My mind ran rampant with those thoughts. It spun sounds of their shallow breathing and wove images of them by my bed. Even the dark seemed to take life of its own accord for it become suffocating.

Fear gripped me in the usual tight dictated way. I started to take slower breaths and I wish I had super strength like superman or one of those power ranger morph coins that turned them into their powerful alter ego. Heck I would even settle for batman’s utility belt. I would do anything to ease the cursed fear that paralyzed my body.

My mind ran to my emergency plan for monsters due to the realization that super powers or any useful coins or belts wouldn’t find their way to me at that moment in time. “Ok run to mom and dad while they eat my sister.” I whispered. Then it came to me like a ball hitting you on the head. There is no sister snoring in this room for them to attack first. I was vulnerable and could imagine the monsters looking at my pale skin and seeing it as a glow in the dark snack a mist the darkness.

I heard a movement from my doorway and begged my body to move. It listened and I quickly grabbed one of my stuffed animals and held it close to me. I looked down at it and realized it was my neon orange dog Sparky. In my own mind he could shock anyone and it made him the perfect choice to clutch to. My mind filled with fear and thoughts which all contained the phrase I am too young to die in it. I decided that Sparky’s ability to shock would also make him not only an ideal protector but an ideal weapon as well. So I launched Sparky at the intruder by the doorway. “Sorry good old friend,” I said already feeling guilty for betraying a close ally and loved one.

I heard Sparky’s body hit something and froze again. “Ouch! What are you doing you dummy?” I rejoiced for it was my sister’s bossy voice. I also gulped knowing I would probably regret throwing Sparky at her. Still the monsters from my imagination faded like a nightmare’s hold on you, with her presence in the room. That alone made any future regret I would feel from her future punch bearable.

I felt tears flood my eyes filled with relief and joy that tonight for the time being I would be safe. My eyes shut quickly as the light from the lamp my sisters turned on flooded my eyes. I squinted them and noticed she was crying too. I wonder why my brave older sister would be crying. It couldn’t be because she had monster troubles too.

“They can’t do this to us,” she said in between sobs. I agreed despite the fact that an hour ago I hated sharing a room with my sister. She turned off the lamp and laid down next to me. Together we fell asleep.

To this day I still don’t know why my sister was crying since my move back into her room the next day seemed to annoy her more than anything. I choose to not ask her and let that one question from my childhood still plague my thoughts every now and then. Some nights as I lay in my bed at night I chuckle at my past self. I admire his imagination that became reality and the relief that his dictator of a sister brought him.

Just another firework going off.

For this story we had to write a childhood memory of a serial killer. I tried to go for a less sensational story as instructed. It was done in the time period of around 15 to 30 minutes. My killer was the Son of Sam.

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It was The Fourth of July and I was not in a very good mood due to the humidity and hot sun. The day had not gone well especially since I got in trouble several times by my mother. Each time because I couldn’t keep still and watch TV like a good boy. For my punishment I received a swift smack from a broom or any other object that was near to my mom and didn’t have sharp edges. It was seven and the sun was barley starting to go down leaving all the other neighborhood kids waiting anxiously so we could start the fireworks.

I was different than all of them because I could wait patiently for things like that, things that excited me. Like a tiger waiting till its prey moved just into the right place. I could wait forever till the excitement started. The couch I was laying on had a spring sticking out and it was really uncomfortable. My mother entered the room and I quickly straightened up to a sitting position. “Hurry up and come outside,” She said with a ruff voice due to her obsessive chain smoking.

I followed her outside as we watched my older brother light fireworks (most of which were illegal) and our fellow neighborhood kids follow after them. I was at once transfigured into my place by the beauty of the light show and the elegant ear splitting whistle they gave off. My eyes didn’t move as my brother lit another one. I was enthralled when it started sending out more colors and lights. Even the whistle of this one was louder.

The urge to run forward and touch it was immense but I was scared of how my mother would react. Especially if the task it ended with her hitting me again. While I was mulling over that thought a beautiful girl with blonde hair was trying to light a firework. I watched, as it didn’t work. With a loud bang it exploded leaving her face charred from one of the upcoming flames as she screamed. My eyes opened wide and for some reason I couldn’t break my eyes off as everyone ran off to help her. Something about that fixated itself in my soul. A weird metallic taste erupted into my mouth due to the image. I decided I liked that taste. I stood there and watched while people fussed not moving and thankful no one got in my view. How brilliant the image.

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This wasn't my best story ... just so you know.

Sundried

For this story we had to describe a color without actually saying the colors name.

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The sun’s beams bore down onto the grassy mountainside that towered over the river as it playfully wound its long course in front of their dominating presence. Several trees dotted the mountainside their protective leaves adding shelter from the intense sun. As if like in a nostalgic dream I sat under one of the trees as I watched the shapes of several children splash in the river’s foamy waters.

The sight along with the filtered light from the tree overhead put me deeper and deeper into a wayward longing that seemed to plunge into the very depths of my being. What I missed was my childhood and the wondrously brilliant curiosity that was correlated with the innocence you still carried then, that innocence which I had lost when I first became a teenager.

Laughter from the children rebounded all around me. How worry free they were, in their young and naïve presence. They live in a pure world of bliss and joy. Each and every one of them was still free from the common problems that plagued adolescent and adult life.

Free to wonder and dream. Their behaviors not too closely watched for stigmas let them be truly free from many things. Mostly it allowed them to be free from society’s rigid rules and stale traditions.

In an odd way I felt truly happy they still had this chance. For soon the horrid chains, modern life ties on you will become a cumbersome burden to them. Another part of me wanted to warn them and tell them to run from those strong chains. But where could they run?

I looked up and saw one of the figures starting to run to me. It seemed the hot sun gave him more energy and vigor to him than it did to people my age. Once you hit your teenage years the sun seems to start draining you of energy more than giving it to you. As the figure drew closer I recognized it as being my little brother. His smile widened revealing a gap in his teeth where he lost his first tooth.

“Why are you so serious?” he asked me sitting down next to me. I found his attempt to try and figure me out one of the basic essences of childhood. Always trying to figure out what was way beyond you.

"Something you can’t understand till you’re older” I replied.

“No fair,” he said in a whiny voice.

I couldn’t help but laugh at him. What he wanted to know might one day be something he didn’t want to know. With a light hearted sigh, that in a couple of years will sound more convincing, he ran off to join the other kids again.

A bird started singing and for some reason I felt my longing for the past leave. The void that was left by it was filled with an unusually tint of happiness and cheer. It was strong like the sun or this hot summer’s day. Maybe just maybe it was like what those kids felt. An emotion strong and bright radiated through me. Eventually something will happen to make this emotion pale or maybe even darker but the important thing is that I could feel it in my veins right now. I closed my eyes and bathed in this feeling as I let the bird’s melodic song and the children’s timely splashes wash over me.

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Just in case you didn't figure it out, my color is yellow.