Hunter Hall Creative Writing Fall 2013 Ms. Brooke Smith January 13, 2014
Reflection Paper Over the past semester, my writing skills have been defined and improved upon significantly. While I loved writing before the class began, the Creative Writing I course helped me love writing even more. I did write before the class started, but a lot of it was only poetry or school work (example: reflections, written responses to questions, etc.). During this course I have grown as a writer in not only poetry, but also story writing with a plot and written responses. I have grown with these skills with the help of the course in many ways. I have improved with the help of practice nearly every day, along with notes and other daily improvements. While I have had momentous improvement over the past eighteen weeks, there are still skills I could improve upon. For example, I could practice different techniques in my poetry, like rhyming. One thing that I think I did well was having a solid and flowing plot in my stories. Finally, I have learned many lessons over this semester. The biggest lesson I learned this semester is that writing comes from the heart and it portrays someones innermost feelings. Writing has a very deep meaning for many people. I have grown as a writer a lot this semester. I feel more confident in all of my writing. My poetry has gotten better, I know I can write a good short story, I wrote a children’s book for the first time, and I adjusted to taking quizzes and tests about a novel. I know I have grown because I now know how to write different types of poetry, and I went from have writing no short stories to now having two, along with having no children’s books written to now one as well. Overall, I have grown as a writer in poetry by practicing and learning more about writing it and improving it. I grew as a writer in short story writing by writing short stories for the first time and improving upon them for the portfolio. I grew as a writer during the novel unit by practicing the short and long responses on tests. Finally, I grew during the children’s book unit by writing one for the first time. I have grown as a writer dramatically this semester and I know I can grow even more if I keep writing, which I will. I have improved in various areas as a writer during this semester. Even the journals every morning helped me improve. These helped me improve by giving me a simple question and I would have to write a detailed answer. I wrote poetry before the class started and the poetry unit helped me grow even more. I learned and became proficient in various types of poems: haikus, limericks, ballads, and more. I grew even more during the short story unit. I had never written a short story before this class, I had only read and learned about them in eighth grade. Writing one was much different. I wrote and succeeded at writing two that I believe are very good with the only errors being grammer or spelling errors. Even the novel unit helped me improve my writing; written responses are going to become a large part of my life now that I am in highschool. The children’s book helped me improve my writing skills by helping me teach myself to adjust my writing to the age and interests of the reader. When I started the class my main strength was poetry, I had never written a short story or children’s book. I have strengthened my poetry skills throughout the course of the semester, but I think that I have become even better with my other skills. I think my biggest strength as a writer is my ability to write short stories. I had the most fun writing them and I think they turned out better than any of my poems, or my children’s book. One of my main weaknesses as a writer is my ability to write with a prompt. When I had to write a poem about something specific I struggled because I had a lot of ideas in my head of what I could do, but then I couldn't fulfill them at the time because it would not follow the prompt. Another one of my weaknesses is my grammar and punctuation. Although I feel that I am very good at these, most of the mistakes that were found in my work were related to grammar and punctuation. In hindsight, I believe that a lot of my weaknesses were turned into strengths during this semester. I have learned many valuable lessons this semester, but the one that stood out to me is that
writing comes from the heart and portrays one’s innermost feelings. I learned a lot about myself this semester just by writing. I wrote about horses nearly every time we had an assignment because I love horses and riding is my passion. I wrote about bullying and sadness because I have a personal connection to that. The imagery that I had in my poems were pictures that I was looking at at the moment I was writing. When I wrote my color poem I was looking right at all the colors I was writing about. This was the most valuable lesson I learned as a writer this semester because I have never taken writing this seriously before, so I discovered a lot about it personally. The words one writes comes from the heart and tells what they feel. In conclusion, I learned about writing and myself this semester. I grew and improved as a writer, ranging from my poetry writing skills to my skills when it comes to short and long responses on a test. I also know that while I continue writing with all the knowledge that I gained I can grow and improve even more. I found my strengths and weakness, and then made my weaknesses strengths. I will continue to find weaknesses and turn them into strengths. Finally, I learned about myself in the lesson I learned: every word comes from the heart, filled with feeling. Over the semester, I grew and prospered as a writer more than I ever thought possible for myself.
Partner Poem Jeanna Disney World is the best place for this girl. And... Even though she doesn’t bake, She still loves cake! And... WalMart was fun until It was where she got lost when she was little. And... Captain America is better than the rest And Loki is a little less. And... Jeanna is a really interesting person Whose personality never worsens.
Haiku Sequence Memories Here is the new school, Yet it is old to others. No memories yet. There is the old school, So close I can walk to it. Full of memories. Now I sit right here, In the old but new courtyard, Making memories.
Observation Poem Outside Orange Wind blows, Geese honk, Autumn leaves rustle. Caterpillars munch, Ants crawl, Flies fly. Acorns fall from big trees, Twigs fall from smaller ones. Cars pull up and kids go to class And cars pull away and kids go home. Trimmed bushes line the walls, But mysterious boxes line the sidewalk. And in the middle of all these Sights and sounds, Is the panther mosaic.
Headline Poem And The Award For Most Outstanding Love Story Of All Time… Could Be Yours! Have you tried dating And resorted to baking? Have you been single for a long time And you just want someone you can call “mine”? Then you should try online dating! Get away from the cupcake making And get to know someone who could be the one! Many people who have tried have had a lot of fun. Karl and Jenny met, Got a pet, (He’s a dog named Piers) And they have been together for 4 years! Bob and Mary met on a dating website, And on their first date they flew a kite. They knew they were meant to be together, Even through stormy weather. If you tried online dating, And stopped waiting, The award for most outstanding love story of all time, Could be yours!
Color Poem Sunset Storm Late afternoon blues skies are present, Light blue sky. Blue skies approach, Dark blue. Then black. Black clouds twist and turn into the blues. Red colors of Fall leaves weave into the wind As it blows furiously. Yellow sun is still watching, Fighting for the evening sunset. Only winning a portion of the blue, blue, black, and red sky. White makes an appearance in Short, Quick Flashes that light up the dying green grass of Autumn. The evening progresses As the portion of the sky the sun possesses Becomes yellow with shooting streaks. Purple, pink, orange, red, All pointing to the bruise of a sky. The sky has been taken over With the sunset storm.
Prompt Poem (Biggest Fear) Disappeared There’s a crash, Metal screeching, Tires squealing. There’s a scream, A yell, A whimper. There’s silence, A siren, A team of doctors. There’s a mom, A dad, Two kids, And a dog. There’s CPR, Silence, And the shaking of heads. There’s also a girl, At home, Watching TV. Unaware that her family has just disappeared. The doctors don’t know there’s another. Finally, there’s her aunt, The hospital, And the family that has disappeared.
Concrete Poem (Photo)
Ballad A Poor Creature A man walks up, His boots hitting the ground hard. He’s mad, But there is nobody to take it out on. There’s no one, But there’s some one. He’s got legs, a nose, He’s got feelings. The angry man doesn’t seem to know that, though. He’s chained up all day, And he gets food and water, maybe once Every couple of days. So the angry man, Who doesn’t care, Walks up to the poor creature And it shakes with fear. Fear of being hurt, Fear of being broken, Fear of being defeated, And fear of having his life taking away. The man takes his foot, Lifts it up, And with all his might, Strikes the dog. The dog yelps, Falls on his side, Tries to catch his breath, And can’t. The man repeatedly lifts his foot And kicks the dog. As time wears on, The dog’s attempts at fighting back become weaker. When the man’s anger finally fades, So do the dog’s breaths.
As the man walks away, The poor dog passes away. The man has taken away a life, A life that had no business being taken away. And the next day, the man goes to a buyer, And picks up another dog.
Song Lyrics Change You’ve been known for a long time now The same thing every day All you want is to break free But you’re going to have to pay When you change When you change Everyone hates to see you change Everyone hates to see you bow Everyone hates to see you now Everyone hates to see you change When you change When you change Everyone hates to see you change Everyone hates to see you grow Everyone hates to see you go Everyone hates to see you change You’ve been known for a long time now Now more than ever You got lost Made a few mistakes But at least you are not a fake And you finally broke free When you change When you change Everyone hates to see you change Everyone hates to see you grow Everyone hates to see you go Everyone hates to see you change When you change When you change Everyone hates to see you change Everyone hates to see you bow Everyone hates to see you now Everyone hates to see you change When you change When you change
Everyone hates to see you change Everyone hates to see you grow Everyone hates to see you go Everyone hates to see you change
Short Story Forced By: Hunter Hall “No Mom, I don’t want to go to school!” Willow wailed as her mom forced her into the car. Her mom sighed a deep sigh, it filled her lungs and it took a whole fifteen seconds to let out, and she wasn’t even doing it slowly. “There is no reason for you not to go to school Willow Amber Downey,” proclaimed Mrs. Downey, this happened about every morning since the middle of sixth grade year. It had been two years of this... every morning. Mrs. Downey remembered her own dislike for school starting in junior high, and that was normal, more work and “no time” for fun. But she had grown out of it, Willow had not. It didn’t worry her, she thought Willow was just being a typical teenager. “Yes, there are reasons for me to not want to go to school!” Willow was nearly hysterical in her faded jeans, red tightly fitted shirt, leather jacket, and black Converses. No one could forget the lip piercing she had performed in her own bathroom (with help from the internet), much to the dislike of Mr. and Mrs. Downey. “Well, until you tell me a valid reason, I don’t care. You are going to school no matter what.” said Mrs. Downey with frustration lingering on her voice. “I am sick of these morning outbursts.” Willow sighed, threw her blue plaid bookbag into the car, and sat down in the passenger seat next to her mother, who looked ridiculous in a pink pant suit and poofy hair, ready to go to her job as an attorney. As Willow buckled her seatbelt she made sure to keep her leather jacket far enough down on her arms to cover her wrists. Willow and Mrs. Downey arrived at the middle school after about seven minutes of listening to
music on full blast through her earbuds. Mrs. Downey kissed her daughter on the forehead, told her to have a good day, and Willow exited the car with a slam that could have shaken the birds in the trees. It was cold outside that Monday, but it was getting close to Thanksgiving so it made sense. Willow welcomed the weeklong break with joy, but she had nothing to be thankful for. Yeah, she had a house, a loving family, and food three times a day, but no friends, no happiness, and no understanding. After thinking about it, she realized she did have some stuff to be thankful for, but not as much as some people. Some people had designer clothes, friends, boys who liked them, and practically all the money in the world. As she walked in the big brick building, she was greeted by a wave of warm air and the smell of another horrible day. Willow liked her classes, she was a good student who was always ready to learn. She liked her teachers and her teachers appreciated a student who actually cared about learning. With plans to become a marine biologist, science was her favorite class and she got to start off the day with it. After that, the rest of her day usually went to shambles, but that was later, not now. “Good morning!” greeted Mr. Lightner, “How is the weeping Willow this beautiful Monday morning?” Willow smiled and shook her head as she walked to her seat in the far right corner. Usually when people made fun of her name it made her want to disappear, but when Mr. Lightner did it, it made her smile. Her smile couldn’t last for long when she was reminded that she was the only one in class without a partner. She was always alone. This was the case in all of her classes unless they didn’t have to sit in groups and she could willingly sit by herself. As class started, Raymond Crude leaned over, tapped Willow on the shoulder, got so close she could smell the pancakes he had for breakfast, and said “Whaddup, emo girl.” With a barely audible sigh and a very audible giggle from everyone around, Willow turned back around and began copying the notes on the board.
After Willow said goodbye to her favorite class of the week (she might pretend to come down with a horrible and mysterious illness that would take her out for the rest of the week, she hadn’t decided yet) she headed to her doom, aka PE. PE was torture for Willow. Ms. Feer was always yelling and pushing her to do the mile run faster so that the whole class didn’t have to wait for her to finish, which was really embarrassing. She also hated the aspect of changing. She always changed in a stall to spare her the teasing and laughing that would probably ensue if she changed near the lockers like everyone else. This never really worked, though, because everyone had to use the bathroom and with only three stalls, one stall cannot be occupied. Too bad her 135 pounds was too much for the girls who had perfect curves, whose hair stayed beautiful, who probably weighed 105, and could withstand the endless torture of running because they were on every team she could think of. This was proven every day when Grace Man would giggle with all of her friends as Willow walked by in her oversized tshirt and baggy basketball shorts. To add to this, Willow would often have to run to the locker room to get her asthma inhaler. “How nerdy was that,” said Grace as Willow reentered the gym. When PE finally finished it was welcomed, but only because she didn’t have to run anymore. Lunch was next on Willow’s agenda, which was comparable to PE. She sat by herself in a booth that should be able to fit six people. Because there was nobody to talk to, she usually did homework or read books while people walked by and hit her on the back of her head and said “Dang, all that food explains a lot.” She used to have friends who would sit with her and talk about gossip and boys, but that was before her friends became popular and she didn’t. After lunch, Willow had social studies and photography. Social studies was easy for Willow, she liked learning about history and she liked the fact that it was easily memorized. She always tried to sit with who was once her best friend, Ellie Post. There was never a smile or a “hello”, just glares that
looked right through her, the unpopular girl. Photography was another one of Willow’s favorite classes. She loved taking pictures and exploring her artsy side. Her pictures were beautiful and wellrespected by the teacher. Too bad she wasn’t the best and there were kids who made sure she knew that. “Your father and I both have jobs during the day, Willow,” said Mrs. Downey after Willow had begged, once again, to be homeschooled. “The classes would be online! There is no reason that I can’t!” yelled Willow, she didn’t need her parents around to do online classes. After their argument turned into yelling and screaming, Willow went to her room to sleep, so hopefully the next day would come faster. It was five o’clock. Waking up at four in the morning had its perks for Willow. It gave her more time to perfect her hair and makeup to make herself look less like herself. She had big blue eyes, high cheekbones, and full lips. Her hair was dark red, like a red velvet cupcake. But it wasn’t pretty, it was definitely not pretty enough for the girls with green eyes and blonde hair and perfect bodies. As the morning wore on and her parents woke up, she got ready for school. When Willow and her mother, who was dressed today in navy blue slacks, arrived at the school they had the argument that they had every morning and Willow, like always, lost the argument. As she walked into school with her alternative looks, her day started off horrible. It was raining as Willow walked up to the front doors. She always thought it was weird when it was storming in the morning, it’s supposed to be bright and nice. The wind was howling and the shoes Willow had chosen to wear were so worn that they barely had soles. They were her favorites, though, so she didn’t care. When she walked into the school, she suddenly had no where to put her feet. She tripped over her boots and fell right on her face. To make things worse, it occurred in front of practically the whole
student body. As a teacher ran over to help her up, laughter filled the lobby. As she tried not to cry, she got up, brushed herself off, and calmly walked to the bathroom. While there, she tried to compose herself, but it was useless. When the bell rang she wiped her eyes once again, threw her bookbag on, and went to science. There, Mr. Lightner’s jokes about her name almost made her cry more, but she put on a smile so he didn’t ask. It got worse when people began to say things like “You should try shrinking your feet, it might be harder to trip!” and “How’s your face? Apparently not so great!” All of her classes were like that. The worst part was that she had to pretend that it didn’t matter, she had to laugh with them. When she went to PE, social studies, and even photography, it got worse and worse. At lunch, people placed banana peels near her booth and said “Make sure not to slip again!” and the whole cafeteria burst into laughter. On her way home on the bus, it continued. When she got home, it might’ve stopped being heard, but it was still being said. For the rest of the week, it continued. People could not get enough of “Bigfoot” and “Trippy” and things even more horrible. The arguments with her mom in the morning escalated. She couldn’t go back, she wouldn’t go back. On Thursday she made herself so sick that she had to stay home, and even there she wasn’t safe. People wrote stuff about her on Facebook and now that they remembered she was actually there, they brought up things that had happened years ago. She couldn’t handle it. Mrs. Downey didn’t worry too much but she did wonder a little bit. She should have been worried because this was not Willow being a teenager. This was so much more. This was bullying, in so many different ways. Willow carried those nicknames along for weeks. Weeks. They didn’t even upset her anymore, she got to school and her eyes would glaze over as she took notes. She couldn’t hear, feel, or see anything but the classwork. Even with her concentration, her grades, which was the only thing she had
left, began to drop. She couldn’t help it and her parents didn’t understand either. Last time they checked in the fifth grade, Willow had plenty of friends and was always happy. As this, and the bullying continued, Willow’s tolerance dropped. She couldn’t handle it anymore and if she tried to stand up for herself, which she wouldn’t, things would only get worse. She wouldn’t, she couldn’t, take it anymore. Her parents hardly seemed to care, no one else cared, Willow didn’t care. As Willow got out of the car she hugged her mom and and said, “I love you, have a good day at work.” Willow never said those words so Mrs. Downey, surprised, said “I love you too, have a good day at school.” Willow had gotten up early that morning to tell her dad goodbye before he left for work as well. As Willow walked in the school, she actually smiled and she didn’t care about the greetings she got. After science she gave Mr. Lightner a hug and said, “I just want you to know that I appreciate you.” Mr. Lightner, flattered, said, “Thank you, Willow, I appreciate a student like you.” Willow smiled and walked to the gym, not phased by the class that would have usually broken her. As she left, she yelled across the gym, “Bye, Ms. Feer!” with a wave of the hand. During lunch, she sat with her old friends, even though they ignored her. One last act of defiance. She said goodbye to her social studies teacher and her photography teacher, saying to both that she appreciated them and both of them, unphased, said thank you. Walking to the bus, she said goodbye to every one of her past friends that she saw. Some of them smiled a little and some just ignored her. “Oh, won’t they regret that,” thought Willow with a grin. After saying goodbye to the bus driver, she walked, with a spring in her step, up to her front door and entered her empty house. About six months ago, Willow had broken her arm in three different ways and when people asked to sign her cast at school, Willow was ecstatic. That was until they wrote stuff, in Sharpie, like “I’m a slut,” and “Someone break my arm again.” After going to get a new cast, in black this time, she
wouldn’t let anyone near her for those six weeks. After breaking it, Willow was prescribed pain medicine because of the way her arm had broken (she had been pushed down, she had not fallen off a swing, which is what she had told her parents). Thinking of those memories and more, she walked vigorously to the refrigerator where her mom had kept the remaining pills. She got a stool from the kitchen table and dragged it up to the refrigerator. She could make as much noise as she wanted, no one else was home. More confident than she had been in the past two years, Willow took the pills from their spot, moved the chair back to the table, took three fruit punch juice boxes, passed the living room her mom and dad always sat in, passed the bathroom with some of the worst memories, and finally made it to her room, her safe place. Sitting on her bed, Willow, who was never very religious, said “What up God, I’m either coming to you or the Devil, so maybe see you soon.” After that, the sun hit the spot where it shone through her room and enlightened the area. “A sign, cool,” said Willow as the pills and the fruit punch slowly began to disappear. Willow, who started to feel drowsy, picked up a stray piece of paper and the pen she always kept on her desk. Slowly, she began to write in sloppy handwriting, even though her handwriting was always impeccable. On it she wrote, letter by letter, “To all of you who made my life hell, this is for you. Mom and Dad, I love you and I’m sorry.” When the juice boxes were sucked dry, Willow laid down on her bed and let her mind wander. Suddenly, her thoughts assaulted her. “What about marine biology, Willow? What about grandma and grandpa, Willow? What about Aunt Pam and Uncle Kevin, Willow? What about a husband and kids, Willow? What about your parents, Willow? What about you, Willow Amber Downey? All at once, she wanted to go back. She wanted to undo what she had done. But she was too
sleepy, all her body wanted to do was close her eyes and sleep. As she tried to fight it, as she thought about all she was leaving, she didn’t want to leave. “Wait,” she cried faintly, but Death doesn’t wait for those who are forced into it. It was too late for Willow as she closed her eyes but never reopened them.
Scary Story He Has Come Again Hunter Hall Charlotte shivered as she walked up the steps to the huge creaking mansion that stood in front of her. The three solid knocks shook the rattly old door and taking a step back, she called for her grandmother. “Nana? Nana, it’s Charlotte. I’m here for the weekend, Mom just pulled away.” She carefully set her bags down and gingerly rested on the front steps. It was freezing. The country side of New York was not the place to be caught outside with only jeans, a tshirt, and a thin coat. Suddenly, MaryElizabeth awoke from her nap on the couch within the living room. “Is someone at the front door?” she thought as she proceeded to the recently remodeled kitchen. Through the window, she saw Charlotte shaking outside. “Oh, dear!” exclaimed MaryElizabeth and she realized it had been her granddaughter knocking ever so politely on the door as she endured the blowing wind and hint of snow in the air. She ran over, as quickly as her tremulous legs could carry her. As she flung open the door, the wind nearly blew her over. “Nana!” yelled Charlotte as she gathered her belongings and threw herself into her grandma’s arms. “Hello Sweets, I’m sorry I didn’t hear you knocking, you should have yelled for me,” MaryElizabeth said. “It’s okay Nana, I didn’t mind,” said Charlotte, still trying to warm her dainty fingers. “I started a fire before I fell asleep, you can go put your stuff in the upstairs bedroom and then
we can sit in front of the fire, I’ll make my special hot cocoa,” MaryElizabeth said sweetly. She felt horrible about little eightyearold Charlotte in the cold, too modest to be rude and knock more than three times. “Yay! Thanks, Nana!” squealed Charlotte as she climbed the stairs as fast as she could. When Charlotte and her nana were settled in the upstairs living room, they sat in front of the seventy two inch flatscreen television and watched The Little Mermaid, Charlotte’s favorite movie and a good “flick” according to Nana. After they finished watching that, it was too dark outside to go for a walk down the private driveway, even though it was only about six o’clock. They ordered an extra cheese pizza to share. As they waited for it to arrive, which would probably be a while, Charlotte looked around the large living room. “Nana, how long have you lived here?” Charlotte asked curiously. “Oh, for quite a while. Follow me, I want to show you something,” replied MaryElizabeth as she slowly rose from her chair and advanced to the stairs entering the attic. Charlotte jumped up excitedly and followed her nana as ducklings follow their mother. “Why are we going to the attic, Nana?” inquired Charlotte. “I wanted to show you this view,” explained MaryElizabeth as she reached the window on the far wall. “Watch your step, these floorboards are very old. Now look here out this window. You see that hill up there?” Charlotte nodded. “My greatgreat grandparents sat right where you’re sitting and watched the Indians come over that hill.” “Wow,” said Charlotte in amazement as she gazed through the window and observed the dusty dirt road and the stray chickens that walked over it. As Charlotte’s attention began to waver, she began looking around the attic. There were boxes
piled high, some almost to the ceiling. The musty smell of old books and paper filled the room and at some points, became overpowering. Charlotte, who was small enough to crawl and dodge things in small places, somehow made it to the far left corner. “Charlotte! Come back here, there is too much stuff over there!” MaryElizabeth scolded. “What’s this, Nana?” asked Charlotte. She had picked up a old piece of cardboard. It was very worn and folded in various ways, but the letters on it were still intact. Charlotte took the cardboard out of the box and crawled back to MaryElizabeth. “What’s this Nana? It has letters on it.” “That’s just a toy, nothing you would want to play with,” stated MaryElizabeth, evidently gaining nervousness. “I want to play with it, though!” Charlotte added with excitement. “Fine. Take it downstairs,” MaryElizabeth said wearily, as if she had aged another five years in twenty seconds. When they were both back in the living room in front of the fire, Charlotte was ready to play with the toy. “So, what kind of toy is this?” asked Charlotte. “It’s not really a toy, Charlotte. It’s called a Ouija Board.” It gave her shudders as she spoke. “It allows you to communicate with spirits.” “Spirits, like ghosts? I don’t believe in ghosts,” stated Charlotte. “Well, you might after this,” said MaryElizabeth grimly. Dozens of pictures cleansed her dusty mind, a floating table, flickering candles, burning flesh, running around a table, all of them horrifying. “Go get three candles from the kitchen table,” ordered MaryElizabeth. As Charlotte fetched them,
MaryElizabeth took large shaky breaths. She tried to convince herself that nothing bad would happen this time, but she had a bad feeling. When the lights were off, the candles were lit, and the cardboard was on the floor with both of them crisscrossapplesauce on either side, they were ready. MaryElizabeth took a quarter out of her pocket and put it in the middle of the cardboard. “You have to put your finger on the coin and you cannot, you cannot, take your finger off until I tell you. You cannot move the coin, it will move by itself.” “Okay, I promise!” said Charlotte, charged with energy, “Let’s go!” Both of them placed their finger on the coin as it began to spin in circles. When it stopped, MaryElizabeth spoke out. “Is someone there?” The coin slowly began to move to YES on the board. “Are you moving it, Nana? Because I’m not! I promise!” whispered Charlotte. “I’m not moving it, it’s a spirit. Let me talk,” she mumbled. “Are you evil?” she asked and it began to slide over to NO. A load of pressure lifted off MaryElizabeth’s shoulders. As they continued, Charlotte and MaryElizabeth found that they were talking to Leo, a man who passed away in the area. He was killed in a horrific tornado that blew away his house. As their conversation died down, Charlotte spoke for the first time since she had laid her finger on the coin. “Is there anything else you want to tell us, uhm Leo, before you say goodbye?” After she spoke, the coin began to move, letter to letter, very quickly. MaryElizabeth had trouble staying caught up but when the coin finished, she sat up in shock. “What is it, Nana? What did he say?” “Nothing. He didn’t say anything. Say goodbye now.” “Goodbye, Leo! It was nice talking to you!” and the coin began to spin violently and more intensely than Charlotte thought possible. Suddenly, it flew. It flew off the board straight at Charlotte.
MaryElizabeth gasped and nearly fell over and Charlotte fell backwards onto the cold hardwood floor. “Charlotte!” MaryElizabeth yelled as she crouched next to her granddaughter. “Charlotte are you okay? Charlotte!” “Nana,” Charlotte whispered faintly, “Nana, it’s burning me.” she gasped as her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she swooned. “What’s burning you? What’s burning you, Charlotte? Charlotte! Charlotte, wake up!” screamed MaryElizabeth as she shook the unconscious girl. As she shook her the coin fell from her neck and rolled in circles until it clattered to stillness. Where the coin had been resting upon her neck, there was a circular red marking, almost like a burn. “Oh my god,” she cried. She carefully lifted her eyelid and she jumped back in surprise. Charlotte’s dark chocolate eyes had become blue, with a red ring around the pupil. “What the..?” mumbled MaryElizabeth. Suddenly the lights flickered and the candles went out. As MaryElizabeth went to turn on the lights Charlotte came back. “Nana?” Charlotte called wearily. “Nana, my body hurts,” she stated weakly, like a sickly child. “Oh, Honey! You’re alright!” MaryElizabeth cried. “You’re alright,” she sobbed this time. “Why are you crying, Nana? Nothing happened, I’m only a little sore for some reason. And my back stings, but nothing happened.” “Of course, Sweets, nothing happened. Let me see your back.” Charlotte turned around so MaryElizabeth could examine her back. As she lifted her shirt, she tried to conceal her sob, but it broke through a little bit. “Is there something there? It stings.” Charlotte said. “It’s only a little scratch, Honey. Nothing a bandage won’t fix.” But a bandage would not fix
this. This was not a scratch, it was cut. Luckily it was not very deep but it went down the length of her back and it was already beginning to look infected. “Let me go get my medicine and I can make you feel all better.” Honestly, she did not know what she was going to do. She carried her medicine to the shivering girl and slathered it on the wound. “Ow Nana, that hurts!” wailed Charlotte. “I’m sorry, baby,” MaryElizabeth cringed. “I’m not going to put a bandage on it so it can breathe.” The real reason was she didn’t have a big enough bandage “Is your neck okay?” “My neck? I didn’t know there was anything wrong with my neck,” Charlotte said as she examined her throat. “Oh my, there’s nothing there,” gasped MaryElizabeth. “Was there something there?” Charlotte asked. “Oh no, there was nothing there. It’s getting late, let’s get ready for bed,” said MaryElizabeth, obviously exhausted. Even though she was exhausted, MaryElizabeth had a hard time falling asleep. Charlotte was in the room adjacent to hers, but she was worried. “What have I done to her? What have I brought upon her? I shouldn’t have let her even touch the board. It was him. He was lying to her. What have I done?” she mumbled aloud. At last, slumber found it’s way to MaryElizabeth. She twisted and turned in nightmares but she slept through. Soon after she fell asleep, Charlotte was awoken. She knew she was awake but she didn’t open her eyes just yet. “Why is it so cold in here?” she thought as she shivered and curled up under her covers. Instead of getting warmer, it began to get colder. “What’s going on?” she thought to
herself. She threw off her quilt and sat up straight, looking around the dark room. Her gaze wandered from the wall her bed was pushed up against to the black figure standing in front of the door. “Ah!” she squeaked as she jumped back under her sheets. “Nana?” she gasped. She was greeted with no reply. After a couple of minutes she peeked one eye out from her hiding place and checked her door frame. There was nothing there. Cautiously, Charlotte tiptoed out of her bed to the door that opened up into the hallway. “Nana?” she whispered quietly. “Nana?” After a couple minutes of silence, she began to hear the creaking of MaryElizabeth’s bed. Building up the courage to walk through the dark hallway, the creaking became louder. Finally, she walked the few yards to her Nana’s room. When she looked in the doorway, MaryElizabeth was as quiet, still, and stiff as a board. It was so quiet Charlotte could’ve heard a pin fall. Almost inaudibly Charlotte called for her. “Nan” Charlotte was cut off and with a soft shriek she fell to the floor and was dragged down the stairs. “Charlotte?” MaryElizabeth called. “Charlotte, are you there?” she asked quietly as her muffled footsteps and a horrific feeling led her down the stairs to the living room. The black figure stood next to Charlotte. She could have been unconscious, there was no expression on her lifeless face. “Charlotte,” MaryElizabeth wailed as she stood on the other side of the living room. “Charlotte come to me, not to him. Trust me, not him. He’s got you under his control. Break out of it Charlotte!” she frantically yelled. Suddenly, the black figure began moving, forming, molding into another shape. In what seemed like an hour, the figure had transformed. It’s new shape was that of a girl. A small girl. It had taken the shape of Charlotte.
“No! No, Adrian! You can’t!” MaryElizabeth shrieked. “You’ve already taken everyone else! My son, my husband, you’ve taken everyone! You can’t take this one now!” This was greeted by a small chuckle, one of a male. It sounded like it could have come from outside, across the road, and in the horse pasture, but MaryElizabeth knew all too well. As the chuckle emerged, the shoulders of the now eight year old figure became to jump up and down. He was laughing. Laughing at the girl he stood next to, with eyes wide open but no longer awake. He laughed at the now crippled grandmother, down on her knees pleading for him to stop. He laughed at himself and his final accomplishment in which he was about to fulfil. MaryElizabeth was down on her knees, sobbing, pleading, doing everything she could to have him to stop. As soon as he laid his hand on her, she would be gone, just like the rest of her family. At one point, MaryElizabeth began to stand on her trembling knees but an unseen force, like the winds of the most powerful hurricane, knocked her back down. As MaryElizabeth’s attempts at saving Charlotte became more and more futile and useless, she broke. She fell on her knees, crumpling like paper. The house began to shake as if there was a tornado looking in through the window. MaryElizabeth placed her face in her hands and sobbed. It was a deep sob, it came from her core and was as loud as the trumpet of an elephant. The shoulders bounced, the house shook, Charlotte trembled, and MaryElizabeth was nailed to the floor by her tears. Suddenly, everything became quiet. For a moment, MaryElizabeth thought that Adrian had taken pity of her and was going to return her beloved granddaughter to her. As this thought hit her, Charlotte snapped. Her chocolate eyes became lively again. They were not happy and shining as they usually were, they were dark, moist, and as full of fear as they could get. With large eyes, she screamed. “Nana!” she screamed in her high pitched voice. “Nana!” she repeated, going to take a step
forward. She never took that step. As she lifted her foot, her other foot was picked up and she was thrown upside down, eyes wide, mouth open. Charlotte was not conscious for long. As Adrian held her upside down he chuckled, making it louder and louder as his shoulders bounced up and down. In another movement, he dropped the girl and lifted her upright by her long, luscious auburn hair. As she stood up straight once again, Adrian took a small step towards Charlotte, he was already so close to her. MaryElizabeth accepted the inevitable and sobbed as she watched him. The demon crawled into Charlotte through each and every one of her pores, nearly tearing her apart thread by thread. When MaryElizabeth thought she would fall apart, literally, she came back together again. In one a fluid motion, Charlotte stood up straight, head down. MaryElizabeth shakily looked up and saw Charlotte raise her hand. MaryElizabeth followed by rising. Abruptly, Charlotte snapped her head up. Her eyes were no longer the chocolate that MaryElizabeth had come to love. They were the same blue with the red rim as they had been after the dreaded Ouija Board. “My God…” gasped MaryElizabeth. Charlotte opened her mouth to speak and when she did, MaryElizabeth nearly expired from the dark and twisted noise that escaped the child’s lips. “You signed up for this, MaryElizabeth. You made the pledge. You brought my evil upon yourself, your son, your husband, and now little Charlotte. I hope you enjoyed your wealth while it lasted. The last of the sacrifices you agreed to has just taken place. It was nice knowing you MaryElizabeth.” With a cry for Nana, Charlotte was gone.
Dead Celebrities Piece Cory and Marilyn The spotlight was too much, I said. I wanted to take a break, I said. But they broke down my door “Inspire us, Marilyn! We love you, Marilyn!” they said. The spotlight was too much, I said. I wanted to take a break, I said. But they broke in the studio “Sing for us, Cory! We love you, Cory!” they said. I didn’t want to inspire now, I said. I was influencing lives, I said. But they broke down my door “Stay in the spotlight, Marilyn! We love you, Marilyn!” they said. I didn’t want to sing now, I said. I was the center of people’s universes, I said. But they broke down my door “Marry me, Cory! We love you, Cory!” they said. It was too much pressure, Being so special. Everyone watching your every move. So I took the pills. It was too much pressure, Being so special. Everyone watching your every move. So I took the pills. “Sometimes I feel my whole life has been One big rejection.” I once said. “I say Eat fast And die young.” I once said.
Children’s Book (Photos)
A Fresh Start Student Reaches Huge Horseback Riding Goals! Article by: Hunter Hall (Raleigh, NC) December 31, 2014 A fresh start meant everything to sixteen year old, avid horseback rider, Avery Good. After a tough competition year in 2013, she was ready to take things seriously this past year. When we interviewed her we asked her what compelled her to take things seriously this year and not before; “Well, I just assumed that I was already good enough for the big shows, so I didn’t think I needed to practice all that much.” In 2013, Avery didn’t advance more than local schooling shows, barely placing in the top five. While her horses were in good health and conditioned well, the only exercise Avery got was the walk to and from the barn, and about once a week, a ninety minute ride. Avery was also diagnosed with asthma last year, making it harder for her to want to get in the saddle. “When I had my first asthma attack, it was in the dead of the summer and I was riding in our ring, which has a sand bottom. My little sister was riding in front of me, kicking up dust which eventually caused me to have the attack,” she told us. After that, Avery told us she was scared to get back in the saddle, “That was the most scared I’ve ever been in my life, not being able to breath, and I’ve had some pretty bad falls throughout my years of riding.” With help and reassurance from her parents, who have ridden since they were kids, they successfully got Avery back in the ring. “I was scared because most show rings have a sand or loose dirt bottom, which is easy to kick up. I learned that I just need to control my breathing and if I started to feel myself losing breath, my parents were right there with my inhaler at all times. Avery told us that there is about one local schooling show per month, and she showed in all twelve this year. “I started out in the smaller classes, just to get used to serious and competitive showing,” she said, “And as I improved, I would enter the larger, harder, and more competitive classes. By the end of the summer, I was placing first in nearly every show!” Even before the end of the summer, Avery was doing extremely well. She was qualifying for higher shows in the state. In October, she competed in the State Fair Horse Show, placing extremely well in all classes. “There were various trainers who came up to me and asked me to be on their showing team.” With all the showing Avery did, we wondered how she managed school with training, “School is not very challenging, I get homework done as soon as I get it so I have more time to train for the shows. Now, I ride everyday. My family has three horses, so I ride all of them so each horse gets a break between rides.” Avery rides everyday for about an hour unless the conditions are unsafe for the horses. When that is the case, she cleans tack, cleans the barn, grooms the horses, or does everything she can to learn more about riding, even if she isn’t in the saddle. Avery has improved tremendously this year as a horseback rider. She is an inspiration to many other riders; if you put in enough effort, you can make it as a successful rider in the horseback riding community. When we asked her if she had anything left to say she said, “I couldn’t have done any of the things I accomplished this year without my family. They supported me the entire time and put up with me when I was stressed or anxious. I am also fortunate enough to have the best horses, especially my
dapplegrey connemara, Stormy. I just wanted to take things seriously this year and improve as much as I could, and I did. I made it to shows I never thought I would, and I hope to do much more in 2015.”
Letter to Your Grandchild Dear Grandchild, If your mother has given you this letter, it means that I have recently passed away. There is no need to be sad though, even though I was the most awesome person you will ever meet, I’m still with you. Your mom has taught you about spirits and the paranormal and I can assure you I will be visiting around in my creepyspirit self. My mom’s (your great grandma) grandmother (your greatgreatgreat grandmother) once told her that if she did anything bad, she would come down and knock her on the head. Well I’ll do that to you, too. I’ll know if you break the law or some other teenagey thing that I was too cowardly to do. I hope you continue riding like your mother and I, while we did not make it to the Olympics or any national event, I want you to. I want you to work hard enough and care enough to try your hardest and be the first one in our family to make it to the big shows. If you ever want to take a break from riding, do it. I watched my friends mother’s push them too hard for riding and they quit. So, if you ever want to take a break, do so. Don’t do it just to please someone. When you're ready to ride again, you will. Also, even though you’ve probably heard this a thousand times, get back on if you fall off. I’ve had some pretty bad falls during my years of riding and I got back on each time. If I hadn’t, neither your mom nor you would probably be riding. You have to get back on if you fall off, even if it’s for two minutes, I did that sometimes. As long as you get back on afterwards. I’m sorry that I won’t get to see you for the major events in your life, but I’ll be watching. I’ll watch you graduate from college and get married. I’ll watch you raise your children and become a veterinarian, like me. I know that was always your dream. I’ll always be with you, even if it’s not physically. I just have a couple last things to say. I know you will be a successful woman. You’re beautiful, so don’t worry about your appearance or your personality. You’re beautiful inside and out. I hope you do whatever makes you happy, whether it be horseback riding, teaching, helping, whatever. Find friends who will stick by your side forever, mine did and I hope you find some who do too. (Find some with good middle names too, how do you think you’re mom got the name Sierra Rosalynn? Sierra, Rose, and Lynn were the middle names of my best friends who were there for me til the end.) Lastly, I just want you to know that I am always with you and that I love you infinitely. With all my heart, Grandma
MultiMeaning Poem Extra Credit In the Air The suspense is huge. Awaiting, you sit up straight, Senses tingling. You run up to it, Anticipation hits you, But don’t get ahead. Finally you’re there, And you’re in the air, soaring. A perfect ending.
Food Poem Extra Credit Guess My Food Delight Cheesy, breaded Warming, filling, baking Marinara sauce is helpful. Yummy (Mozzarella Sticks)
Fantasy Room Extra Credit My fantasy room has a lot of horses. I love horses, so my wallpaper would probably be a herd of them galloping or something similar. I like having a rug in my room, so I would have either a blue or purple rug (those are my favorite colors). My bed would have sheets and a comforter that matched the rug with a lot of pillows, preferably ones with horses on them. I wouldn’t want the horse theme to be too overbearing, so I wouldn’t want horses on all of my belongings. I would have a bookshelf full of my favorite books, a radio that connected to my ipod to play my songs, and a huge closet. I would want my closet to be big enough for shoes, jeans, dresses, etc. It would most likely have to be a walkin closet. The room should also have a huge window with dark red curtains because it would compliment my rug. I would want a large window to be able to see a barn full of my horses and a pasture so I could watch them graze. Because I am making up this room and there are no limits of reality, we can pretend that I actually have horses. To finish, I would want a television and a place for my laptop so I could watch all my favorite Disney movies and be on the internet at the same time. I would add in a bathroom as well, I wouldn’t want to share one with my siblings.
DeafBlind Piece Extra Credit No Sense I close my eyes, and I cannot reopen them. It’s like learning how to walk, but you don’t know where to go. I lift my head and my ears shut off. I can see the beauty, but the sound of silence greets it. My eyes are unable for what seems like an eternity. I can hear all the beautiful sounds but no picture greets it. My ears are unable to do their job, to pick up the reception of what’s on the screen. I’m blind, then deaf. Anxiety greets me and doesn’t leave until everything comes back.