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Omari’s Final Portfolio TABLE OF CONTENTS 1. The Spot 2. Ice Queen 3. Location 4. Prompt Responses 5. The Way I Read 6. Wild Card 7. 6 Word


I met her on a bridge two summers ago. It was a blistering hot day and I had been

vibing out to some fusion jazz on my ipod. She seemed interested in my choice of music so when she got closer, I took note. “Flying Lotus?” she asked. “Yeah...” I replied and smiled. “Do you come here often?” she then asked. I replied, “yeah the view here is great.. at around this time.” Our conversation lasted for about another 20 minutes or so. She said she liked my name and how unique it was. I remember her repeating it over and over again, humored by its sound. “Omari, omari, omari.” I never asked her for her number or anything; I imagined that I would see her again some day in the same spot. Her name was Michelle.

The next three months consisted of more outings with Michelle. Eventually I got

her number and a lot of times I would catch myself reading and rereading a text messages from her asking, “the spot tonight?” Simultaneously my friends started to worry about where I was all the time. They would ask me questions like, “where are you going?” Or “ how come we don’t chill anymore?” My response was always, “I’m busy...I’ll hang out with you guys later.”

One night at a party, a friend of mine got his hands on my phone and read my

most recent messages. I flipped out on him and fought him for my phone back. My head hurt from all of the sporadic anger and I didn’t know why. I guess I wanted to keep what Michelle and I had a secret, a secret that only her and I could share. Later that night my friend texted me asking, “what’s the spot and who the fuck is Michelle?” I ignored it.

That night I might as well have considered myself that message and Michelle me

because It wasn’t long before she started to become distant. Now it was rare if I saw her at the spot. Now responses to my texts took three days instead of a couple seconds. I never kissed her or anything, so why was I so attached? This feeling was weird, I figured she just didn’t want to see me anymore. It was like a kid getting bored of the same old video game. I didn’t know how to react. I kept asking myself, “Should I blow it off ? Is it a big deal? Should I try to talk to her about it?”

The next day was no different from the others. I parked my bike in it’s usual spot,

took out my ipod, and sat down on a bench. Before I could even put my my headphones on, I was interrupted by what sounded like some laughing coming from the distance. I turned around and slowly registered a moving image of Michelle walking with another guy. As they passed by me I looked her directly in the eyes. She smiled and kept walking.

The view at the spot was great that day. Flying Lotus is a great artist to vibe out to.


She freezes from afar but when close she warms like a burning fire in the winter

fresh air. People fear her but I am not afraid, I kneel down to the “ice queen.” Everyone watches her go as she silently and gracefully preys on her foe with her smile. It is more beautiful than pearls pried open from tightly closed clams, this beast slips through my fingers like sand. My lips shiver when saying her name: Helen. Helen is no ordinary girl you see, while everyone accustoms themselves to the fake life, she remains true. Even in the deepest of my dreams she tends to sit in the back of my mind. Across from her I sit, cold yet comfortable beneath untouched icicles. Thoughts like these about helen go by as quick as gunfire.

I can remember the first time I encountered her, the scene is so vivid in my head.

She stood near me in a grocery aisle. There she stood staring at all of her food, as if she were trying to communicate with it by use of an endless gaze. I wanted nothing more but to ask her what exactly was so interesting about nutella, vitamin water, and oreos. When she finally looked up from her gaze our eyes locked, and we were frozen for a brief moment. “Hi,” she said, and at that moment I felt a loss of heat scatter away from my body. I nervously replied with a “Hey”. My hand was shaking while i tried find my

credit card and she took note. As I looked down I saw that her hand was now out in front of her, looking for a handshake. She said, “My name is Helen.� At that moment everyone around me had stopped what they were doing. It was almost as if I was being introduced to some kind of serial killer. What was it about her that struck so much fear into the hearts of these people? Why was I so much different from them? Why did she say hi to me and not some other guy?

The feeling of uncertainty was ubiquitous but I liked it, I wanted to know

more. My town is quiet. At night the small shops and stores light up the unspoken air. I walk home slowly, trapped in my thoughts, always thinking about her. I glance over the street and realize that although it is quiet, It is still easy to tell what everyone is thinking. No one takes a chance to speak out about how they really feel, how they feel about Helen. A chilling hesitation flows through each and every person. But here I am walking and dismissing all those chilling hesitations. If she be a queen of ice then I yearn to be her king and sit beside her on a throne of fidelity. Together, we would be able to break the freezing tension between us and society. With the fire and warmth of our understanding of each other all will melt away.


The lights are never up there where the birds take flight. Ugg boots never shut up.

The only way to find a path is by balancing one’s feet on carpets that never speak, a plethora of blackberry’s ignite the faces of these creatures, eye’s caught in a explosion of color. In each room lies a truth to a lie captured inside the claws of a Macbook

PROMPT RESPONSES There’s a huge blizzard outside, so you’re trapped in your house. You’re very bored and can’t figure out what to do. You decide that baking is always fun and entertaining on snowy days. You look through the cabinet and find brownie mix, cake mix, cookie mix, and muffin mix, but there’s one problem. They all require eggs, but you have no eggs. You choose to venture out in the blizzard to go to the store because you are so bored. What happens? -Something falls from the sky and hits your face. You ask yourself, “where did this egg come from?”

You decide to go to the natural history museum on a boring Friday. As you walk in, you notice there is a new exhibit, "Early Settlers of North America." As you walk through, you notice something odd. In one village recreation scene, one particular skeleton seems to have four arms. Tell his story.

-Jim always wanted to make an example of his imagination. Being in charge of the night shifts brought his ideas to life.

You wake up in the morning, and realize your world is different. Lying on your kitchen table, you look up to see the fan swiveling much farther above your head than you remember it. The proportions of the world you once knew are much larger than yesterday. Looking around, you realize the salt and pepper shakers are as tall as you are. Then you look down… crap. You’re a pancake.

-Your friends warned you that stupid decisions are made when you’re drunk. I guess that genie didn’t care too much.

You are having a very bad day after getting a D for a science assignment. You feel like you cannot go to a college since you just f***** up your grade.  As you walk down the hallway, someone suddenly slaps you with their palms as hard as he can on the back of your head.  Why did this person slap you and what is your reaction?

-As you put the face together you recognize it only as jesus. “We need to talk” he says. “Shit..”

You wake up on the floor with sweat dripping down your face. You grab your shirt and realize that you’re still wearing your running uniform. Voices are now heard from up ahead and you think to yourself, “Hmm..I still have time to finish the race.” As the feet of other runners go by you, you try to get up, but it seems difficult. A woman stops you with a smile and says, “Here’s your _______, Robert. You’re not going anywhere.”

-You take the two wooden posts and screw them on to your stumps. The woman guides you toward an asylum


Ever since I was a young boy books always seemed to be a distant and annoying

idea to me. I never understood the concept behind reading a book, instead I asked myself “Why not watch a movie?” My dad, being a voracious reader, constantly urged and badgered me to read books. He reminded me that knowledge is power and that without knowledge the mind grows weak. I agreed with everything that he said, but I also believed that not all knowledge comes from books. I only read if I didn’t understand something and I needed more facts about what I was interested in. Reading was never for pleasure but for grasping needed ideas and answers. As I grew older and matured I realized that reading books was something that I could not run away from. Schools required it. My parents required it. Life required it. Escaping the idea of reading was inevitable so I accepted its offer. I slowly became more comfortable with the notion of reading something because someone told me to do it. I always thought that one day I would break

from the shell of hating books and instantly grow a love for them. Sadly this has not come yet.

To answer the question, “Why do you read the way you read?� I say that I read

because it helps me to get a grip on something that confuses me in that specific moment. I read for the betterment of my understanding not because I necessarily enjoy reading. WILD CARD MY..

As I stepped into the room, the first thing I noticed was a small lamp in the

corner. It flickered on and off constantly as if it were trying to tell me something. Ignoring its warning I slowly made my way to a gaping closet taking my time to climb over tons of worn out limbs and bodies that were strewn across the floor. When I was only a couple steps away from the door a horrid smell forced my nostrils inward abruptly and my face turned up in dissatisfaction. I rushed to the window and quickly opened it and a brolic breeze struck me in the face, adding to my discomfort. As I turned around I could hear faint screaming coming from underneath a chair nearby. I picked up a small rusted knife. It had a been drenched in blood so the only color visible was a faded red. I turned it over only to see my own reflection which I had not seen in a long time. From what I saw I noticed that my eyes were red also and full of disbelief and ambivalence. I did not know if should continue to look over myself and observe traits I did not know existed. As I kept walking toward the faint screams I noticed a girl hiding amongst the shadows. she stood tall over everything else in the room. The more I stepped closer the more inviting she seemed to be and at that moment the sun.. 6 WORD Let my mother'll burn.

Omari's Final Portfolio  

my final portfolio for my flash fiction writing class

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