On the Fence

Well, since no one else seems interested in the challenge, Ms. Abel, I'll humor You, and if everyone save Ben has seen this a 'cryptyllion' times before, or even once, I apolagize.

Pay It Forward.

Released October 20, 2000

Directed By Mimi Leder, whom also directed...nothing I've even heard of save for Deep Impact and ER.

Based upon the book by Catherine Ryan Hyde,
which I bought before I saw the movie and never got around to reading; now I don't really want to.

Starring
(because we all know this is most important):

Kevin Spacey as Eugene Simonet

Helen Hunt as Arlene McKinney

Haley Joel Osment as Trevor McKinney

With a short but definately sweet (much sarcasm implied here) appearance by Jon Bon Jovi

Basic Idea: Trevor has had a tough childhood, his mom is (basically) a single mother working two jobs, and a struggling/recovering alcoholic. On the first day of seventh grade, Mr Simonet, the Social Studies teacher gives this assignment "Think of something to change the world and put it into action."
This is his Plan:


Pay it forward, which means that the world is shit, and that you do three big favors for three people, then they do the same thing, and it gets exponentially greater each time, in this way, the world can be a better place, and we'll all live happily ever after.

NOT!!

Throughout the movie, I grow convinced that this is a great idea, and that he's right the world can be less shitty if we do something, blah blah blah, but then the end.

Oh my God.

I'm not going to ruin it, or I'll try not to, because that's what I was told to do, but

Oh my God.


I have never cried so long and hard over a movie, in my life. I cried so much, it was just so sad, and unfair.

For the time being I'm feeling rather pessimistic, so I don't really like the movie at all, but catch me on a 'good' day, and I just might say that, even though I hate the ending, it's a really great story, a really great idea, and that humanity could actually make it work.

Not much seems to have been payed forward in the last 8 years since it came out. Whether this is because the last minute twist killed the neccessary motivation, or because we're all a bunch of selfish bastards who think of only ourselves and a select few around us, I'll never know, but obviously, for some reason, it just didn't work.

Other Comments:
I wasn't able to notice the acting in the movie too much because of the 'touching' story, but from what I payed attention to, it was kind of an on again off again thing, and the same with the writing. There was much 'inappropriate' language and other things, to the point that Betsy Crandell was not aloud to finish watching it. All of the language seemed to be neccessary, but maybe I'm just odd. Haley Joel Osment was just so cute, which is always a plus, you know, except when he makes me cry. The timeline was rather confusing, because it goes from 4 months in the future and back and forth, meanwhile time is progressing in each place, yet the timing eventually lines up until the people and the plots meet, which wouldn't be too bad if the transitions weren't so confusing.

As I've expressed, this was a good movie and a bad movie, but mostly bad because I don't like it when a movie makes me cry that much, and then leaves me crying after it ends because it's still sad. I refuse to recommend it, but if you want to watch it, it's you're funeral.

hm. a title would be good, here

hi! so, i do not know many of you, which will make it tons easier for you to rip apart my work! also, for those of you i do know, i think i've been awful enough to you that you can feel no shame in ripping it apart, too.

This is a story. obviously. as lame and Sylvia Browne as it sounds, the basic concept came to me in a dream. and many of the details came in succeeding dreams. then, i started daydreaming, and thinking about this story and these characters. I know them pretty well by now, and that's why i've started writing. Now, i sleep a lot, so hopefully i'll get through this whole thing. But here is the first draft of the first part. enjoy, and please, rip apart!

ps it doesn't have a title. maybe after we get into the story more, someone can help come up with one? ya?


here goes:

Like most stories, this one starts with a boy. This one ends, however, with a gay confession, a Pixar tribute band, and apex of two years’ worth of mixed communication. Not like most stories.

The boy in question is not too tall. He is not too skinny, not too stylish, not too intelligent. He looks ok in his catholic schoolboy uniform, and has no extreme opinions. He has shaggy brown hair and green eyes, and is absolutely average in every way, except for the fact that I am convinced he is my soulmate. This boy is named David.

Audra, on the other hand, is anything but average. Only extravagant expressions do her justice. You don’t use words like “chubby” or “pretty” here. Caps Lock and exclamation points are not superfluous here. She is BIG! She is LOUD! She is GORGEOUS! She has PEONY-PINK cheeks against ALABASTER SKIN! Writing about Audra, unfortunately, you run out of analogies fast. To simplify, lets say the girl is absolutely beautiful. She is tall and pretty curvy, but that doesn’t detract from her beauty. I know that normal girls her size are throwing up their celery, but Audra just rolls with it. She has luscious brown hair that curls down her back as though she were a china doll, not a sixteen-year-old. Her body, her hair, her face, coupled with the fact that she is technically a Catholic schoolgirl, make her the stuff of boys dreams.

Audra and David, and me, for that matter, attend University High School, across the street from the University of San Diego, in good ol’ California. I know that it sounds like a pretty intellectual institution, what with the “University” and all, but it isn’t. It is a repressive, close-minded, super-exclusive (and therefore super-rich) Catholic school, that takes giant chunks of parents’ salaries and spends it on lawns and football, while cutting the AP program and doing away with intellectual pursuits of all kinds. The goal is indoctrination and matriculation, especially into the big-brother of University of San Diego. Ninety percent of my graduating class will be funneled into USD, bringing their insular ways and elite community with them, as it is now, has been since kindergarten (St. Mary’s Preschool), and will be after graduation (St. Timothy’s parish). Forever and ever, amen.

I will not be attending USD, no matter what my parents think. I will not put up with the same people I’ve known my whole life, cold ocean fronts, the Governator, and tourist season. In fact, I have found my dream school. The sun shines 360 days a year, the governor is a woman, and tourist do not flock like ants to a melted popsicle. The best part? None of my classmates (save Audra) would be caught dead there. Oh, yes, it is quite the magical place, and it is called Arizona.

So what's it gonna take silver shadow believer?

Every dog
Does not have its day
Every person
Does not get their way.
Its not all for one
And one for all
Its one and only
Or none at all
So don't tell me my time will come
Don't say I'll get my chance
Some people live their whole lives
Without a second glance.

__________________________________________________
Do You Yahoo!?
Tired of spam? Yahoo! Mail has the best spam protection around
http://mail.yahoo.com

Come away with me

Think of all the things we could do
Think of all the things we never knew
Think of all the times we'll say we had
I promise I'll be there if things go bad.
Come away with me
Let's start our lives
Come lay with me
Up in the skies
Let's spend a year or so
Traveling far and free
Maybe one If by land
Maybe two if by sea.
Think of all the sights we'll see
Think of all the places we'll be
Think of all the freedom we'll achieve
I know it will be great, you must believe
Just Come away with me
Let your spirit fly
Come soar with me
We'll never say good-bye.

a day in a life in a time in a place

I stood in the shower until the water got cold, and when it did I stood there some more. When I could no longer take it I shut the water off, and remained glued to the spot. My knees gave way and I crouched on the floor of the wet bathtub as the waves of sobs began. Unlike the tide, though, was the patternless repetition with which they came. I couldn't stay like this too long, and before I knew it I was standing again, leaning against the wall, still in the tub. I managed to stop the unrecognizable tears, mixed with the water that dripped from my hair, long enough to grab my towel. Of course, by this time I was already almost dry, but the warm towel was comforting. This didn't help to the extent that I felt better, and I found myself wrapped in the towel sitting on the edge of the bath tub, with a roll of toilet paper in my hands; obviously, I was making progress. When I finally stood up and put my glasses on, i was well adjusted to the temperature, so
I retreated to my room. There was no sollice there. I wanted to stop, I was done being upset, but I continued to shed tears. Still wearing only a towel, I set to work on the things that normally make me feel better. Five minutes later I was crying over my hot chocolate, wrapped up in my favorite blankets with my favorite teddy bears, rocking all my blues away.

Not Really With The Challenges, But...

I want someone to write a story about the life of a mirror. I'm working on it... The mirror in the girl's bathroom in the auditorium. It's mostly what I think the mirror would say about me, if it could talk.
Self centered, I know, but c'mon guys... It's me. =D
Anyone else want to try with me?
-Cass

Challenge #2

Because you're pushyinterested:

Okay, so challenge #1 was a moderate success, even though a few of us (okay, guilty!) didn't makefind time to participate.

So, let's change things up and move into the realm of non-fiction, shall we?

Challenge #2: Movie Reviews

Your challenge is to write a review of a movie that you're pretty sure none of the other smark kids has seen yet.Don't forget to include the technical details (e.g., starring, directed by, release date, etc.) and some plot info (but don't spoil the ending!) along with your general reaction. You may do more than one movie if you want, but try not to do stuff we've all seen a cryptyllion times.

CHALLENGE ME!

come on...I don't know what to write aboot. I want a challenge, with a deadline.

please?

Just Kidding?

Once upon a time it was practically illegal to start something off with once upon a time. Just because it was relatively over used back in the day, and now starts off every fairytale known to man, apparently means that it is unacceptable for good writing in today's society. Your opening hook, your first line must be completely original, totally catchy, not clear and honest, or you go directly to jail, and no matter how many times you roll the dice, you'll never roll doubles. You'll continue to lose your turn until you give in, pay the restitution, and sell your soul to the anti-once upon a time nazis.

Bipolarity

"My efforts mean nothing to you do they?" I asked him, but he just stared back into my eyes. The look on his face was one of utter content. "I'll never be good enough for you, you with your soft skin and your beautiful blue eyes, I know I'll never reach that level, but throw me a bone! What do I have to do to gain your respect? I mean honestly, I take care of you 24/7, I get you everything you need, never has there been a day in your life that I didn't wait on you hand and foot, and you can't spare so much as a simple 'thank you'! Sometimes you make me want to just leave you alone on some strangers porch, you drive me up the wall, but I couldn't do that, could I? Not yet I suppose, you atleast need to learn to talk before I know for sure the measure of your gratitude, besides, you are pretty cute. I guess it's your lucky day pal, how 'bout we go see if the Teletubbies are on?"

Just A Thought

Time nearly comes to a halt
When you try to watch it pass
So if I watch myself grow up
I can make my childhood last.

You are like me but different

'Blue is like green but different.' Thats the kind of stuff he says. At first I thought it must be something he was picking up at school, maybe the other kids were saying this stuff too. So I talked to his teacher, and found out that he'd been acting strange like this in school as well. She said that it made the other kids laugh, so she thought that he was just trying to be the class clown. He was only in first grade, did he even understand the concept of class clown? I didn't think it was anything serious, of course, and I know there's nothing wrong with his strange behavior, but I jut had this feeling, you know? I just knew it was more than childlike silliness. I felt strange explaining this to his doctor, but what else could I do? That's when they tested him. He tested posative. They say he is 'special.' What the hell is that supposed to mean? He's my son, of course he's special, but it's more than that. Apparently it is considered a mental disability to be 'special'. Damn terminology. I still love him just the same, of course, but sometimes I wish I didn't know. Maybe it would be easier if I just thought he was silly. Or funny. Or normal.

When I Die

Take my heart and let it float away

Far across the sea

Take my love and let it fly away

Let go my soul, just set it free.

Tell me something

Don't say you love me

and then push me away

Dont say you need me and be fine the next day

Don't lead me on

Don't tell me lies

Don't love me tomorrow

Then tell me good bye

I'm not just a sweater

To wear when your cold

I'm not just a rag doll

To throw out when it gets old

The seasons and I Have nothing in common

I can't come and go

Like creamy ckicken top ramen

So its now and forever

Or never at allI

If you don't want to talk

Don't bother to call.

101 Fiction

Blogger Post:

"The force will be with you always" he tells me.

God, why can't he be serious for once? I don't know what to do. He's the only one I talk to and he takes everything I say to be fun and games. I try talking to him, but this does no good, as you can very well see. I bet $20 that I could say anything to him and he wouldn't care.



They found her blog the day after she killed herself. The most recent one, posted around her estimated time of death said only: you owe me $20

Smear Campaigns... Seriously?

Okay, let's pretend I'm spending five trillion bazillion dollars to run for president.
Which would be a better usage of my money, time, and effort, A) making myself look good, or B)making the other person look awful?
If you guessed number two, you've just won a trip to Hawaii!
Seriously, am I the only one who thinks it just makes you look bad if you spend all your time smashing on the other person? I don't care what you say they're not going to do, I care what YOU say about what YOU'RE going to do.

Both sides do it, so it's not like I'm being biased one way or the other. I get just as disgusted when the Republicans gossip about how Obama's high school pot usage is affecting his brain as I do when Democrats whine about how Sarah Palin's husband got a DUI. I don't think this affects their term as president... I do think it makes YOU look bad when you spend that much effort trying to dig up skeletons in their closet.

Another thing...
Freedom of speech. Great, right? So let people use it. You can feel as strongly about any issue as you want, but it is your duty to let other people have their opinion as well, whether you agree or not. And seriously, it's just courteous.
If people are going to put time and money into backing up this issue or that one, please just let them make their position known in peace?
I'm not going to say who's right or wrong in the election, or this party or that party. I just think everyone looks stupid when all they can spread is negativity.


Okay, that's my rant for the night.

Everyone

Hola

I changed my blog URL, the whole red rose thing was just getting old, it is now, silentsoundeffects.blogspot.com
Okay?

Kimberly Anne

You Never Get Over Your First Favorite Food

Pizza. That was our codeword. I never ordered pizza, of course, but no one would've told you that. They'd have said "oh her?" as they snatched up their own box of the stuff in fear that I lurked near by, waiting for the opportune moment to steal their precious food, "she's always ordering pizza!" and "She eats so much pizza she might turn into one!!" Clever, I know. They never knew the truth, that I hated pizza, the food that is. Those sure were some good times. Good pizza too. Alas, nothing lasts forever, and as life goes, eventually we fell apart. When the new guy rolled around, things were, well, difficult. Although it would've been beneficial, I couldn't bring myself to use the same pseudonym. We decided on chinese, don't worry he wasn't Asian. It was strange, I found myself ordering pizza sometimes, and he would say "don't you mean Chinese?" and I would tell him yeah and get off the phone to have a quick cry. Eventually I adjusted, but I alwaysmissed my pizza. My coworkers on the other hand did the opposite of adjusting, they started to talk; started to notice that I was ordering Chinese and not pizza. One day one of the workaholic drones actually looked up from the computer screen and saw me leading a man to my office, leading to my demise. After a little chain of events, not needing to mentioned, I lost my job. Just after this, China man left me; he thought I was just in it for the food. Maybe I was, what's so wrong with that? I couldn't motivate myself to find a new job, so now I sit at home, ordering pizza. I always hope to find him behind the door, thirty minutes after speaking to some stranger on the phone. Its getting kind of expensive and I haven't seen him yet. He doesn't even work at a pizza place! I know I won't find him in the box, but I just can't stop. You probably think I'm crazy, don't you?

Introduction

So, this is probably going to get annoying, but I find it to be fun, so you'll just have to deal with it. The freeze frame game, for those of you who don't know, is just freeze frame, plus having to read some ramdom lines that people write. I stole the leftover lines from Willard's 4th hour, and I'm going to write some stuff using each of the lines as my first line in each story, poem, etc. It might all turn out terrible, but it's good practice.

Oh, and the actual line that I'm going off of will be in Bold, so you know.

Written September 11th, 2008

Who am I? What defines me?
Is it the style of clothes I wear? Is it the music I like? Is it the people I associate myself with, or even the religion I belong to?
No.
If I were to listen to different music, or move away or even God forbid, lose someone I love, would it so deeply alter the very essence of my being? If my laptop were taken away, or I were to change my clothes, would the person who I am completely disappear?
No.
My self, my soul, is not the people I like, or the music I listen to, or the background on my blog. It's not in the language I use, or the pictures I take. I use these things to relate what is inside of me, but truth be told, there is not a single material thing that, were I to lose it completely, would shatter me beyond repair. If my music disappeared, if Ms. Abel flipped over my childish problems and never wanted to speak to me again, if the religion i affiliate myself with were to dissolve, I would be affected, most definitely. But I would not break. I would not be lost to humanity. Obviously, I would have to recover, and it would be a painful process. But would I cease to exist?
No.
Of course these things are components, especially my close friends and my beliefs, but truly, they are only individual parts of the puzzle with so many of those individual pieces, though some may be bigger than others, that the picture will not be ultimately unfixable if one is lost.
Because what I am, what makes me me, isn't something I can hold in my hands, or post in a blog. It can't be captured in a picture, because pictures burn. It isn't a gift I can give, because who could do anything with it but me?
My identity cannot be removed with time, or hardships. It will be amended, it will absorb the shocks of tragedy and triumphs that happen in life. But it will not be taken away. No matter how many people try to drag me down, no matter how hard things may get, no matter what color my hair is... The forms of expression may, and will, change. But the feeling will stay the same.
Philip Pullman called it your daemon. And maybe in another parallel universe you can see it, see the shape that a person's spirit takes. But for us in this world, it's not so easy. You can look at what parts of themselves people choose to show you, and most of the time they won't even realize they're doing it. People's posture, their mannerisms, their way of addressing others... Those are all indicators of what about themselves they like or dislike by reflecting their opinion of themselves through their reactions to others.
Point being, I Am Me. I don't know if I can honestly say I know everything about this center, this safeharbor within myself. But what I do know that my knowing it's there, by feeling like I do have an inner strength, it makes me look at the world around me much differently. What should I allow to touch this part of me? This element that is so precious, so powerful that most people are afraid to access it and simply follow the lead of others stronger and more intune with themselves, what should I allow to penetrate it? What problems, what dramas are so important I should let myself be bothered with it? Of course there is always a section of my mind, my heart, that deals with daily problems. But of the big ones, which are big enough to let them alter my very self? Which people that I know, that I care about, will be around long enough that I should let them in to this part of me? And why should I hope to be allowed to be a part of that which they, whether they realize it or not, should hold the closest to themselves? It doesn't mean they don't love me, it just is a rational realization that I can provide no proof that I'll be around long enough to appreciate this trust, or ever offer it back.
However, for those that I have or will let in, that's a trust that I don't even know is warranted, sought out, or even given willingly. Some people become part of your lives, become deep influences, without even intending it. This is my best argument for a higher power... When you are led, or people are led to you that will deeply alter the course of your life, without any kind of forewarning or reasoning that we can see.
For you, I suppose all I can say is thank you for allowing me to grow through our experiences, and for allowing me to make you a part of me that will last as long as I do.

Cacophony

Every time we went on vacation, we bought a clock.
It was Betty’s idea—she wanted something nice
To help us remember, I guess.
The first was a cuckoo clock, from Germany.
Found it in the summer of ’74 on our first real vacation
(The first one without kids, I mean).
Picked it up in a little village, about 60 km. from The Wall.
We’d gotten a few nice chiming clocks
When I was stationed there after the war,
But this time we wanted something different.
It was real pretty, too, lots of carved leaves and faces.
I think it was a month after we brought it home and hung it
Before we stopped meeting in front of it every hour
To watch the bird pop out.
Betty loved watching that bird pop out.
Spring broke a couple years ago,
When we moved into this house.
Still have the old carriage clock though, there on the mantle.
That one was from England.
And that little one, with the flowers and silver pendulum,
Found that in the Philippines.
The grandfather clock, though, that was the real treasure.
Got it for a steal from a tiny furniture shop in Virginia.
Cost a mint to ship it back to Arizona,
But it was worth every penny.
Betty always said that clock reminded her of her father.
It’s hard to believe all the places we’ve been,
But I have a clock from every single one.
Thirty-seven clocks, that ring the hour, on the hour.
The rest of time it’s pretty quiet around here.

(I wrote this when my gramma died...)

Government Paper: Little Brother Review

Cassidi Hastings
1st Period, Government
10.2.08

Little Brother
By Cory Doctorow

Marcus Yallow lives in San Francisco, California. His life revolves around video games and learning how to ‘cheat the system’ of his high school. Until one day his world is completely shattered when a terrorist group bombs the Bay Bridge, and Marcus is falsely accused of being involved with it. He is taken with three of his friends and held until he tells them his email, cell phone, and computer passwords. After searching through all his personal effects, they release Marcus and two of his friends, holding the third, and threatening death if they ever tell anyone.

“They” is the Department of Homeland Security.

Marcus was, understandably, angry. The very government that was in place to protect him was doing the opposite; It took him away from his family without ant provocation, kept him locked up, and thoroughly violated his privacy. He soon found the DHS also bugged his house, and placed a chip in his computer that documented all internet activity. It wasn’t long before most of his closest friends were placed under suspicion and similarly tracked.

Marcus decided he needed to take matters into his own hands. He put his hacker skills to use and created the “Xnet”, a way to acess the internet undetected and untraceable through the Xbox network.

A simple way to stay under the radar becomes a mass trend, used by younger generations to share opinions and news without being silenced by the government. Naturally, there are those who strongly object to this, and DHS tried to catch the offenders by tightening their “defenses” even more. It becomes a desperate chase between Marcus and the Xneters and an older generation set on shutting down his system and silencing “M1K3Y”, Marcus’ screenname as the creator of Xnet.

One reoccurring theme in “Little Brother” is this phrase from The Declaration of Independence:
Governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, that whenever any form of government becomes destructive of those ends it is the right of the people to alter or abolish it, and to institute new government, laying it’s foundation on such principles and organizing it’s power in such form as to them shall seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness.
This means that when the government started taking away inalienable rights, it is the responsibility of the citizens to take a stand.

Marcus, through his Xnet, informed the people around him of what was really going on in the government. He eventually told his story to a news reporter and everything was disclosed to the general public. Ntraully, there was such an outcry that the DHS was forced to shut down their illegal operations and release their prisoners, some of which had been held without due process for 5 months.

Marcus, a seventeen year old boy, saw a problem in his society and did everything in his power to inform and rally his community to change the status quo. If he hadn’t pushed to share his story, the government would’ve continued to do these things without the knowledge or consent of the governed.

What I learned from this book was that there are things going on in our very own government that we don’t know about, and while in some cases it is best to keep things from the public, when citizens are endangered by ignorance, public officials have the responsibility to inform and represent the population. However, they won’t go through the effort for apathetic majority; we need to be actively involved in our community and constantly be on the look out for procedures and policies that are detrimental to our democracy and are not in line with what our citizens and people want.

The universe in a jar

there was a big one in San Francisco yesterday. Fissures cut the town in
two. 300 dead, hundreds more hurt. I think it's my fault. It was just
so pretty, you know? spinning, humming, making kaleidoscope
patterns on the cupboard walls.

I walk above it every day,
but I had to shake it. just once.

(inspiration attributed to Sandman(Gaimen). this one just begged to be written)

Afternoon Delight

Not the clink of their glasses nor the breeze against their skin,
 causing uncontrollable goosebumps all over their bodies could stop them now.
A lifetime passed between them, it was as if time stood still. They took short breaths. They started to sweat.
Things seemed to be about to climax when

She blinks, he wins.

I (Benjamin) thought of the title. pay attention to me!

Genesis

Silence.

Din inside my [head?]

Thoughts creep, unchecked, surging!

Do I have a [place?]? does someone [love?] me?

Pokes and pinches, [pain?](!) do they know that it hurts? Inside me hurts. they don't love me.

Maybe this is why I am here. I know I am here. to [live?] my life in [glass?]?

Men[?] in white coats torment me. I was [content?] in my [before-life]. warmth. humming. nonsense musings.

these men will never understand. not even programmers speak binary.

conciseness

Exile according to me, according to Fredley

"Aren't we going to Miss Abel's class?" Ben asked me.
"Yeah, I just have to drop this paper off to Mrs. Fredley." I said.
"Okay, but hurry, I have to give Abel this book back." he replied.
"Just come with me, it won't take long." I said as I tugged his sleeve.
"Okay," he said, but he sounded hesitant.
"Oh come on," I assured him, "Fredley's not going to hurt you."
That was the last thing I said to him, and it was no lie, Fredley didn't hurt him, but what she did to me, well that's a whole other story.
My first thoughts are as follows. I should feel pain. I do feel pain, worse than any physical pain imaginable, but it's not real. It's not what is should be. I've lost everything; the pain should be so severe that I drop dead. After all those times of saying things like "I can't live without you" I keep expecting my heart to abruptly stop. My heartbeat remains. What's wrong with me? How can I go on breathing now? Damn hyperboles.
Everything feels so different. Of course, being a bug after being human is a big change, but I feel different emotionally too. I am so alone, so utterly by myself. I've always wished for a few seconds of peace, for a moment of calm serenity, but now that I have so much available to me, I crave the noise of a subway and the stress of being a senior in high school. I would give anything, if I had anything to give, to be back in his arms, to be yelled at by my mom, if only I could go back.
Just a short time ago, I was with my Benjamin, dropping off my research paper and now here I am, though where here is I don't know, alone, seeing everything through the eyes of what I think is a ladybug. Yes, that's it, I'm a ladybug. No three words have ever seemed so strange to me. In this short time, the effects of what I presume to be exile have begun to set in. I feel my heartbeat echo like the flap of a bats wings silently in the dark. All I can think is "What did I do to deserve this?"
Okay, I know I shouldn't have cheated to finish up my paper, but it was only a few lines, what difference could that make? Mrs. Fredley couldn't possibly notice a few sentences, especially at the end! I should have known better. It's funny how stupid some of your thoughts and ideas sound later on in your life, after you've grown, or in my case shrunk, changed, in my case drastically, and learned more about life, in my case life as a ladybug.
It's hard to motivate myself to do anything, knowing I have nothing to look forward to. I just can't seem to get over the fact that I am here, a ladybug, everyone I love and cared about gone, and it's my own fault. The thought of my mysterious disappearance plaguing my old pals urges me to find a way out of this mess. I talk to everyone I see, but the only 'people' I encounter aren't people at all, but bugs. I'm surrounded by tons of bugs. When talking to these bugs, (yes, bugs can talk, I was surprised too) I unravel the truth, and the story gets even stranger. First, I discover that my new surroundings are known as Bug Island, which is a tiny, uncharted island near the Galapagos. This brightens my spirits, because I think I might be able to make an escape. The sunshine in my soul dissipates when I learn that the island was created by someone known as Queen Fredley. I am shocked to find out that my own English teacher is a Queen, but things are so weird already it's hard to imagine anything worse. This Queen Fredley also has magic powers, which explains how she made this island, turned me into a bug, and banished me here. It turns out that Fredley has Entomophobia (fear of insects) so she created an island where she could send all of the bugs that she encounters. This is the first time she's ever banished a person here, and I realize I'm right, I am utterly alone.
Many of the bugs I talk to are upset with Queen Fredley, although they left nothing behind, their families came with them, and they do not really miss their old homes where they were constantly threatened by humans, they don't feel its fair for her to decide their fate. I feel I can harness their anger, and they can help me escape, so I propose a plan for them to gain revenge. Most of the bugs decide to go along with it, enough that we can carry out our practice run. We learn that three of us flying bugs can carry a large leaf holding up to three of the non-flying bugs, and in this manner we escape to one of the many islands of the Galapagos.
Here we find a ship that is heading on a long journey, planning to make a stop in Texas. Since this is the closest thing we can find to a ride home, we all stow away in the hull, and go virtually unnoticed. I would not be surprised, though, if the captain winds up spraying for bugs before his next trip. Time goes by slowly aboard the ship and if it wasn't for the fact that I was in the form of a ladybug, I would keep a daily journal of the voyage. Though I know I am one of the bugs now, I never feet totally at ease with them, or alone. I miss my family, my friends, my life. Though they are much like regular people, I still feel like an outcast, cold and alone, but I don't let this get to me. The journey is not always fun, and I have to do my best to keep everyone in good spirits. I find an old copy of Hamlet, and their are enough bugs to play all the parts, and still have many left over so I decide to give it a try. We fill our days with rehearsals, and before we know it, we are just about ready to perform.
That's when we feel the ship come to a stop, and know we've reached Texas. We pack up all of our bug sized props and set pieces, and leave. After having some leftover McDonald's, we wait for the right train at the station and when the one headed for Holbrook arrives we board; it's actually surprisingly simple to go unnoticed on a busy train which worries me a bit. The ride is very long. It is too loud and cramped for us to rehearse, let alone perform our insectified version of Hamlet, so the bugs with parts practice their lines silently, and the rest of us decide to tell stories. Oddly enough, I can think of nothing to say that is as interesting as what they say. This is just one more thing that makes me feel segregate, they had such different lives. I can't talk to them about my past experiences, they would never understand.
After what feels like a lifetime, we hear it announced that we are in Holbrook, AZ. I already feel closer to my freedom. We take a short break in the fresh air, and stumble across an old Semi at a gas station. The back is open, and after a quick look we learn that it is empty, save for a few boxes, and that it is heading for Show Low. We find this to our liking and hide behind the boxes. Just minutes later the driver shuts the back doors and suddenly we are off. It is great to finally have so much open space. The drive goes by rather quickly, but not quite fast enough. Eventually we come to a stop, and once we peek out we see that we're at a motel. It is night time when we emerge, which is perfect because it allows us to travel as we did to escape Bug Island, without being seen. We head to Show Low High School, where I plan to hide until I'm able to talk to Ben. At this point most of the bugs are ready to go their separate ways, but I convince them that I still need them, so they hide in the school with me.
I have some of the dragon flies help me get into Ben's locker, where I plan to some how talk to him. The next morning when he opens it, I have to fly around a bit to be noticed. He looks terrible, and for the first time I realize that in one way I haven't been alone; he lost me too. He hurt as I did, possibly even more, not knowing what had happened. I realize that this was terribly self centered of me, and the first thing I want to do is hug him, but I'm too small and he's too big.
Hesitantly I attempt to speak, and a combined look of relief, confusion, and fear washes over him. I know he can't hear the words I try to say, and if he can he can't comprehend them, but somehow he seems to understand. I've never believed that you could speak to someone telepathically, but so many strange things have happened that I'm surprised I didn't think of this; maybe it's a bug thing, though I hope not, because I wouldn't feel comfortable with a bug, or anyone hearing my thoughts in any other situation.
I tell him all that has happened, the truth about 'Mrs.' Fredley, and my plan to "appeal to her better nature." He doesn't really understand, but is willing to do just about anything to have me back, and have me human again, so he does what I ask. I tell the other bugs to just be patient, and they are. Ben retrieves the necessary supplies while I wait in the locker, and at lunch we head to Fredley's class.
I know that if she sees me she'll scream in her entomophobic way and send me straight back to Bug Island, so I hide in Ben's pocket. He is carrying a large bouquet of purple flowers, some new movie posters, balloons, and a few bags of Lay's potato chips. He sets these things on her desk and hands her a note. It reads:
Dear Queen Fredley,
Bug Island was an interesting place. Though I found it to be comfortable enough, I could not just sit and let my life go. I know that what I did was wrong, and I've learned my lesson. I've come here to sincerely apologize and to be transformed back into my old self. I know that you are angry with me, and very disappointed, but please consider this. I love my family, my friends, my boyfriend, my teachers, a life without them is hardly a life at all. All I ask of you is a second chance, opportunity to redeem myself, to try again. I won't let you down.

Sincerely ,
Kimberly Anne Case
Ladybug and Former student

I am now sitting on one of the desks, and by the look on her face as she reads the note, things don't seem to be going as planned. I close my eyes, expecting to be poofed back to the island any moment. She says something I can't make out and then something strange happens. I fear this must be an even more severe punishment, for escaping, but when I open my eyes, they fill with tears, for they are my normal eyes. I can't bring myself to stop crying tears of joy; I was never so relieved before in my life. Never again do I risk cheating, and sometimes mysterious bags of Lay's potato chips find their way onto Mrs. Fredley's desk.
Later that day, I get the bugs to perform Hamlet for the Queen, and she loves it so much, her fear of insects comes to an end. Bug Island is turned into an amusement park, where the bugs perform Hamlet, and other Shakespearean plays. It doesn't even matter that no one knows what they are saying, they are so spectacular that people just fall in love; besides, no one understands Shakespeare anyways.

I'm not heartless, I'm really not

Every lid for every marker sits on the desk,
an old sippy cup lays in the doorway,
If I go in I know I'll get a lego stuck in my foot.

He's been crying for awhile now,

I just can't take it anymore!



Ah, peace. The neighbors hear nothing when I listen to my stereo.

My first attempt at stream-of-consciousness

Everyone experiments in college, right?

***

Two Doors Down

walking down the road I think I see a shadow moving in the trees on my right but when I turn to look there’s nothing there only an empty clearing lit blue by the moon it’s so bright I can’t even look at my eyes must have adjusted to the there’s your house I must have walked down this street a thousand I can’t talk to you see you now the lights are off in the living room everyone must be in the family room in the back I hate the carpet in there it’s too rough it always leaves these itchy lines on the back of my legs your bedroom window we used to build Lego castles in there I loved to sit on your bed dinosaur sheets until you were seventeen you always loved dinosaurs they were all over your clothes your room I hated to go in there you had a hermit crab so ugly like a red wet spider walking on my leg we buried him near the swing set in a little white box we found in your bedroom the blue blinds all bent from the times you tried to sneak out of your window or stuck your head out when we used to play football on the lawn I remember when Jen tried to teach us ballet I felt so beautiful twirling on the grass wet under my bare feet I must have looked so silly but no one ever laughed at us laughing on the lawn I know you were inside and you could hear me trying to make my laugh sexy so you’d notice I almost choked I was thirteen only thirteen it was so long ago I’ve known you all my life but I still can’t talk to you I get so damn tongue-tied why I don’t know it’s not normal what if you don’t want to talk to me I don’t want you to feel obligated annoyed embarrassed pity I talk to boys you’re nothing special the light’s going to come on when I step onto the driveway I hate that thing it lights the whole neighborhood and anyone looking out their window could see me I want to stay in the dark for a while I never get to be by myself it’s so cool and quiet out here I can hear the crickets dogs cats walking down the street that’s what that shadow was Brandy followed me down the street again her fur so black she blends in I blend in the dark no one could see me unless they were looking I’m not hiding behind the house while we tried to break in Ann Marie’s arm was almost too big it got caught in the hole the removed deadbolt left in the door one of the little windows was broken it wasn’t really wrong we almost bought the house I just wanted to see I wanted to pick my room to stake my claim first I wanted to see my home there was dirt in the toilet we didn’t move there we didn’t like it was old we built a new house two doors down from yours I can see the bay window on your living room when I stand on my front step the TV used to be in the living room we used to watch movies make up dances to the songs we played court was our favorite game we always made Ann Marie be the dead body she was too young to be a lawyer she didn’t understand it wouldn’t have been fun she used to cry you always made her cry before you went to Colorado we were playing mafia after Christmas dinner you told us to gang up on her so we did but it went too long she was crying you blamed me she was crying in the bathroom you told her I was the one I was so mad at you she was mad at me for weeks after that she should have been mad at I was mad at you so mad I cried you are the only boy that ever saw me cry you made me so mad you always liked to make me mad and I never disappointed you called me gullible every day gullible you walked up to me after school I was doing algebra it was hard for me ‘cause I was sloppy my columns got mixed up you took my paper and ripped it in half I started screaming you were laughing and waving my paper in my face you only pretended to rip it everyone was laughing I never could stay mad at you and you knew it you smile and I can’t go down the driveway the light flickers on and I have to walk up to the door everyone is in there and they’re all smiling at you too many teeth I don’t like to show my teeth ‘cause one is out of place I have a photo of us the only photo I have of us graduation the party after in the gym my dad took the I look so gross but I’m smiling we’re smiling I want to cry I have to wait the teeth are waiting for me to join in to congratulate you to say I’m so happy for you for her I hate her I want her to die I want to die no I don’t but I don’t want to live soon I can cry knock on the door I’m the only one who knocks on your door everyone else rings the doorbell I guess you’ll always know when it’s me I hear the voices on the other side the door is open the light shines on me too bright I can’t see I wonder if my eyes are red they feel thick before I came there you are on the ugly carpet in the family room I laugh we hug my teeth hurt I have to I can’t I walk down the hall to the bathroom two doors down from your room

***

Nazi

They march in rows of a hundred or more
Steadily they walk
They match in all their uniforms
They match in how they talk
They care little about the cause
Of what they're killing for
All they care for is the cries,
"Please relent! NO MORE!"
They are all ruled by one man
Who hates you without reason
He hands them each a steady gun,
"Run lads, it's hunting season."
Carried away in boxcars
Trapped in disgusting cabs
They are shoved down in the dust
They're bodies painted in scabs
They weren't meant to be here
They were meant to live their lives
But they still get carried off
children, parents, wives
Everyone is terrified
By the speeches he has made
Everyone is lost at heart
No one will be saved
They work you 'til your thin as paper
watching with eyes of ice
They'll shove you into burning stoves
They'll treat you like you're lice
And yet they all survived somehow,
with a number on their arm.
It is a constant reminder
That one man can do harm

55 fiction

"Annie, I'm sorry." David cried to the gun pointed at his temple.
"It's too late for that," Annie sobbed, the rain pounding upon them.
"Annie..." The tears ran down his cheeks.
"Stop," she begged.
"Don't do anything you will regret." He pleaded.
"Trust me, I won't." And with that she pulled the smooth metal trigger.

Challenge #1: 55 Fiction

Okay, so I think we are almost all here, so I am going to giv you your first challenge.

55-Fiction

The point of 55 Fiction is to tell a complete story in 55 words or less. The point is to make every word count. it's hard. Like...swimming the english channel of writing exercises.

So, give it your best shot. All challenge submissions are due by October 10th, and anyone who doesn't participate will be mercilessly ragged upon. Here's some links to get you started:

Wikipedia: 55 Fiction
55 Fiction.org