Ben's (late) short story

April 6, 1994, 5:47am:  I guess I’m surprised, but not confused. I can’t sleep.  All I can do is think, although my thoughts aren’t all that comforting.  I remember being 13 when he declared “I’m going to see where this music takes me, get big, and go out in a blaze of glory.” Jimmy’s tenacity was never questioned. It ends tragically, but no other outcome would have satisfied Jimmy.  Jimmy was never satisfied.  He was world famous, tours sold out, guitars auctioned off, but still, it all fell short. At age 23, he had basically invented a new genre of music, and, at age 27, he was dead. He didn’t really like his own music, thought it was “misinterpreted”. He liked one band, Rebelution, and one song in particular. The chorus of this song goes “Well you can gain the world, but for the price of your soul” This is exactly what he felt he’d done. Despite all that he’d gained, he thought he lost himself along the way.  

7:20 am: This feeling  is not describable. I’ve heard that grief is unparalleled to any emotion. I’m angry, but there’s no one to blame.  Even if there was, I don’t think it would help.  I’m sad, but I can’t cry.  Even if I could, I doubt that’d help either. I guess I’m indecisive.  I browse through some self help books telling me I need to “transcend my ego to move towards enlightenment.” Sounds like bullshit. I never should have stopped these journal entries, they kept me sane when life got insane. Like everything good in my life, I’d abandoned them for something bad.  In this case, I’d stopped writing journal entries in favor of tours and girls and heroin. They had their immediate obvious rewards, made me feel on top of the world. Like Jimmy, I’d gained the world for the price of my soul. So as expected, in the end, I’m blaming myself.  I guess I could blame Jimmy, but I always knew he’d stick to his convictions.  He warned me early on that he’d live, and die, on his own terms, as himself.   Not as “some malleable, publicly conscious douchebag”, which he considered basically all artists and fans of the music business. Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy, he’d never really changed.

8:57am: A quick escape is sounding more and more alluring.  It’s ironic that I’d introduced Jimmy to heroin all those years ago. I’ve unsuccessfully been avoiding that thought. I’m never really comforted by my thinking.  But that’s all there is to do; think, remember, write think, remember write....My thoughts are clouded, my memory strained, my writing stopped.  Amazing how my life would be if I hadn’t gotten kicked out of art class.  What did I think of him? what was he like? AHA!*

*Gordie suddenly realizes that he can view his work from past diary entries, hoping to find some connection or comfort.
May 25, 1980:  Kicked out of Art and moved into Drama class today. Ms. Wormwood is such a bitch! Dad wanted me to take a ride with him, which I did. As expected, it was a long, tedious lecture. “Gordie this” and “Gordie that”. I didn’t want to hear it. I don’t even remember why he needed to go on this ride in the first place, he wasn’t going to a store or anything. When we returned to my house, he told me to rake the leaves. I sharply refused. He told me “Well, you’d better start practicing; you’re in for a long life of blue-collar manual labor, you stupid fuck! Oh, yes sir, indeed!” The words sank in. They struck a chord. I’m not sure how to cope with this.  Let’s see-I’ve been here before: Screw up, get anxious, react defensively, think. I really need to think before I react, not the other way around. I don’t even really want to write in this journal, it seems pathetic. But I do, and I know I’ll continue to do so. This journal is my one method of stress reduction that’s helpful and practical.  Like having a therapist without all the bullshit and soul searching. Saw that the Melvins are stopping by Seattle on Friday so I’ll probably take the bus.
May 27, 1980: Noticed this kid in Drama class today, probably because he’s trying so hard not to be noticed. I have no clue what he’s doing in Drama class; he seems to despise the class, and acting in particular. But for some reason or another, he caught my eye.  He’s painfully introverted, and always seems to be flexing his jaw.  He has this cynical, detached way about him.  It’s as though he’s telling you “don’t fuck with me, don’t approach me” At the very least, he seems just as pissed off as I am.
May 30, 1980: If only to spite my dad, I stopped attending all classes except for Drama, the one he told me to drop. We had this weird assignment today where we were supposed to personify an emotion or state of mind.  I chose stubbornness, and remained silent. My teacher thought it was funny. Most kids would say something like funny, and fake laugh. When that kid, who’s name is Jimmy, was up, he chose nihilism.  I’d never heard of it, and was intrigued.  He then, suddenly, started yelling and thrashing violently. He screamed “GO FUCK YOURSELVES!!! YOU’RE ALL IGNORANT CLONES!!!” He stormed out.  Even the kids who would normally make fun of him were astonished and speechless.*
*Nihilism (Ni-hil-ism) noun - Total rejection of established laws and institutions.  This is what I wanted.  I fantasized about this but hadn’t completely found it within myself.  Jimmy had it. He had it intrinsically, and it showed. It wasn’t forced, or created out of some idealized version of himself.  it is how he really was. He simply did not see the world the other way that others saw it. He saw others as either normal or misfits, there was no middle ground. (I’d spent countless hours debating where I stood on this spectrum.) As with all great musicians, he molded others to see the world from his perspective, not the other way around.  He made normal people misfits, and gave misfits some consolidation, offering them a clear, rebellious identity.  This is the foundation of his music, and upon completion of showing the world how little of a fuck he gave, he saw no purpose left but to kill himself. He challenged the system, and it came out on top. He truly would leave as he came; “in a blaze of glory”.
October 14, 1982: I returned from Melvins concert late last night with Jimmy.  My dad was standing on the porch.  His face was austere, his eyes fixated and stiff.  He was holding a needle in his left hand.  I can always tell when he is really angry or disappointed. When he’s trying to motivate me he’s just a smartass.  But when truly angry, he gives me the exact look that I received last night and does something drastic. But kicking Jimmy out of the house was too much. His anger was justifiable, but our family was the one dependable source of support for Jimmy, and my father knew that.  Even Jimmy knows that he can’t turn to himself.  That excludes all of Jimmy’s outlets except heroin. His demise is looking inevitable, thanks largely to my father! Oh, how I hate him...*
   In retrospect, I realize that unlike Jimmy, I learned and matured from the experiences around me. My father had my best interest the entire time, something I’m just now realizing.  He’d always warned me about actions and consequence.  Thought without action is pointless, but action without thought is dangerous. Jimmy never learned that.  He was always pushing against, an action.  He pushed against the government, MTV, society, humanity as a whole.  But he never attempted to heal.  That requires thought. I strongly feel like healing, learning and changing from my experiences.  Don’t know where I go from here, maybe I’ll give my dad a call and thank him.

 First Page: A Boy Who changes a life

By Michelle Roybal

     La Darius yells at his father," I don't give a damn about your new job!" Henry, La Darius's dad, says " that's not your choice and you are going to be happy about it young man !!" " Where are we moving to?" Asked La Darius.  Henry answered "We are moving to New York."  La darius a brown hair and blue eyed seventeen year old boy then walks away and heads up to his room.  Later that evening he had to begin packing because he was leaving in the next day and so his mom brought him boxes to put his stuff in from his room.  "Thanks" said La Darius toward his mother while walking out of the room. " Your welcome" is all he heard from her because of the fighting that happened earlier. Meanwhile he continues to pack.  While he is packing he begins looking at some old photos that he had of him and all of his friends.  After looking at all of the photo he puts them in the boxes and carries them down stairs. After he put away he went up stairs and went to bed.

It was the next day and La Darius and his family were moving. The one thing that La Darius asked throughout the whole ride to the new house was “ How much longer do we have till we get there?”  His dad answered “ about three more hours” La Darius then sighed with his sadness and put in his ear phones to his music to block out all the world and everything around him.  

                                                Three hours later....

    “We're here!” says La Darius’s dad. Both his father and mother headed inside and started to unpacked while La Darius was still in the car meanwhile taking everything around him and his new life in.  Finally when he gets out the car he is in shock while walking through the driveway and up the stairs to the house.

Jimmy's Short Story

        The people were ready to board the plane. All the kids were sleeping and the adults were waiting to hear their boarding number. I was on my computer looking up survival stories, my boarding number was last. After everyone got onto the plane they finally called my number. When i got onto the plane there were only a few seats left. I chose the one closest to the emergency exit, just in case. I fell asleep but woke up to the sound of the fight attends voice telling everyone to fasten their seat belts, we might have a little turbulence. The plane started to shake and everyone looked scared. All of a sudden the oxygen preservers dropped and the flight attend told everyone that we were going to crash. Everyone started screaming and panicking. We started to drop and it felt like my stomach turned inside out. The plane crashed into the water and the surviving people tried to get out of the plane and swim to the surface. When I got up to the surface there was dead bodies floating, parts of the plane and people searching for their loved ones. The plane was on fire and sinking into the ocean. I looked around for anything that could help the few of us that survived the crash, and i found a survival box that had a survival boat. It wasn't big enough for all 12 of us so some of us had to hold on to the sides. 

        We were stranded in the ocean for 3 days until we finally came across a deserted island. We are all so happy to finally be on land. We decided to make camp on the beach for a few days just in case anyone was searching for us. We made tents out of sticks and leafs. I made a bonfire so it would be easy to spot us in the night. After a few days of waiting and living off coconuts and small fish, me and some of the other men decided to venture into the forest. We made markers so we would be able to find our way back. We went deeper and deeper into the thick forest until we came to a tomb, the tomb had ancient writing on the  front. It didn't look like anyone had been there in decades, it was covered in vines and bugs were crawling all over it. But we decided to make camp there because there was a fresh water lake with fish. So we gathered everyone and took our camp out to the lake. Everyone was scared to go near the tomb.

      We had survived on the island for almost a month and we had built bigger tents and weapons for protection. We did not explored the island because we didn't know what was waiting for us on the other side of the thick forest. One day some of the younger men decided to open the tomb they thought that their might be something that could help them get off the island. Many of the other group members didn't agree with them, but they didn't listen. As soon as they opened it a huge gust of wind knocked down the men and went into the sky. In the tomb they found ancient drawings on the wall. The pictures were all smudged so we could not see the whole story. All we could see was people opening the tomb and then a spirit going out into the sky. But everything after that was smudged. Everyone just ignored it. 

     A few days passed and everything was normal, except for the 3 young men who opened the tomb had gone missing. One of the other group members and i decided to go looking for him, we found tracks that led us to a camp, the camp looked abandoned. We looked through the tents and in the last one we found an old lady, the lady had gray long hair and a wrinkled face. We asked her what she was doing here and she mumbled something and smiled at us. We then asked her if she had seen 3 young men walk by and she said, "No, i haven't i haven't seen a person in over 10 years." We asked her if she wanted to come to our camp and eat, but she said she was fine here. So we went back to camp and told everyone about the old lady and how we could not find the other men. The camp members started to freak out. Some of them started run into the woods and run screaming until their screams could not be heard. I was all alone. I decided to go back to the old lady, when i got the the area of the campsite it was gone. It was like everything had disappeared. Since i could not find the old lady i decided to go back to our campsite and sleep there for a few days, just incase people decided to come back. When i went to sleep that night, i dreamt that i was back at the airport, waiting for my plane, it was like de javu. When i woke up in the morning, there were men talking outside the tent. When i went out to check what who it was, it was the men, who had gotten taken. Everyone who had ran or got taken away was back and it was like i had gone back in time. One of the men said, "So are you ready to go explore the forest?" I said "yeah." When we were deep into the forest, we saw something, we saw the shrine. 

Paul's Short Story: 1st Page

            Mondays, nobody likes them. I groan to myself as I roll over in my bed to squint over at my digital clock. At this point of the morning, it feels as if I’m looking straight into the sun, 5:33. Grumbling to myself, I pull my blanket back over my head and think to myself, “Just 30 more minutes…”

            Hung-over from our championship-victory weekend rager, I feel as if someone’s banging on the insides of my head. Neil Clifton, captain of the Jericho Warriors, I chuckle to myself. Pulling the blanket off of my body, I expose myself to the cold morning air. The clothes I wore the night before are lying on the floor in a pile by my bed. I pick up my old blue jeans out of the center of the pile and throw them on while walking over to my dresser to find a nice clean shirt. I look at my dresser, aware that I’m forgetting something. Running my finger over the top of my dresser, I notice that there isn’t any dust. Maybe Mom cleaned my room while I was sleeping. I grab a shirt and glance around the room to see if Mom messed with any of my other stuff. My room usually looks somewhat like the aftermath of a tornado, but today, it just looks empty. Shocked, I examine my Hall of Fame where i keep all of my medals and trophies, but it’s completely empty and I feel as if every single athletic accomplishment I’ve achieved has vanished into thin air.

            “MOOOOOOOOOOOM!? Where are all my stuff?” I shout stomping out of my room. No response. I half-hop half-walk down the stairs to see what was going on. There is nobody in the living room or the kitchen, so I assume that they've been sent away on one of those last-minute meetings they always have. I grab my backpack from the sofa and jog over to Adam's house. Adam is my best friend. Every morning, I go over to Adam's house and he drives the both of us to school. However, today has already proven to be a weird day so far. 

            

Ray's First Page

Ray's Short Story

Page 1

Dimitri Smirnoff is a 22 year old Russian boy. He has recently returned from the united States, where he went to College, earning a degree in journalism. There are currently presidential elections going on and he is producing Tv coverage as part of his new job. His partner at work is Nicolai Kavinsky, a 35 year old Russian man who lives with his wife and 3 year old son. They are reporting for a local news station, so they are supposed to be unbiased, yet the government signifigantly edits the contents of their reporting. One day the two men are reporting at the rally of one candidate, Vladimir Ivanov. They interview him and all goes well, but as they are packing up the film equipment, they see him in an adjacent alleyway, handing a duffel bag of money to an election official. He walks over to ask them if they saw anything and they say no. He later learns that he has been found out and begins to chase after them. The get in their van and speed away from the scene of the confrontation. Dimitri and Nicolai drive for 5 minutes, and begin to think they are in the clear. All of a sudden, they round a corner and see Vladimir in his 3 series. He begins to chase them down the road and they get onto they freeway. They drive down they freeway, with Vladimir following close behind. All of a sudden they see the Krymsky bridge approaching in the distance. Vladimir catches up and slams his car into theirs, sending them plummeting over the guardrail and into the river below. Vladimir assumes that both men have perished through falling into the river, but they both swim to shore and hide in an abandoned warehouse. They survive on cardboard and moss for the next three days while making sure the coast is clear. Realizing that the police are probably corrupt as well, our two journalists are forced to flee to Germany where they continue live their lives working as paper salesmen.

Sanams Short Story First Page

Sitting in History class is so boring. Ms. Little just lectures all day on the same old American Revolution. Man, she never comes up with anything interesting to talk about. Her voice is a drone that just keeps going on and on when she should just stop talking. SO, the teachers boring and the only thing that can make the class decent is the students. However, in all of Artesia High's 4000 students, I have to be stuck with the worst. I have no real friends in it, which is acceptable because I don't have many, but I don't even have any acquaintances either. Everyone is talking to their friends and interacting with the people around them while I just stare at the clock counting down the minutes until it is lunch. Just twenty more minutes to go now. Sometimes I just wish I could talk to someone around me and maybe we'd end up being friends but I'm too freaking shy. I keep saying I'll say Hi to the blonde haired blue eyed girl, who I think is named Ariel, next to me but I can't work up the courage to do it. It's not even that big of  deal, it's just Hi. But what if she thinks I'm weird, makes fun of me, or worst of all just plain ignores me. I give up. It's better to just not talk. If I say the wrong thing, it'll get around to everyone. In this part of Los Angeles, rumors spread around like a disease. If one person know one little thing about someone, that they don't even know is true, they have to go tell someone else about it, who tells someone else, and the cycle goes on until the whole world knows. The people that gossip the most are little Indian girls. They gossip, they're annoying, and worst of all the rumors they hear and/or make up, they tell their parents which eventually leads to my parents knowing some of the gossip at school but they can't make much sense of it. Once in fourth grade I told my best friend or so I thought my deepest darkest secret which at the time felt like the most scandalous thing. I had a crush on a white boy in our class named Johnny Fitzgerald. I was one of the only Indian girls that liked a white boy. Then, my friends from another school that didn't even know my "best friend" came up to me saying that she heard I liked Johnny, It's not really they're fault for being such gossipers, it's just the way we were raised.  


Lost in my thoughts, I blink my eyes a few times to regain consciousness of being in History class again. I see the clock and it says there's only a few seconds left until the bell rings. Everyone shuffling papers and packing their bags. Happily, I pack my bag and "brrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing", the bell rings.

Ray's Short Story Proposal

Exposition:


Dimitri Smirnoff is a 22 year old Russian boy. He has recently returned from the united States, where he went to College, earning a degree in journalism. There are currently presidential elections going on and he is producing Tv coverage as part of his new job. His partner at work is Nicolai Kavinsky, a 35 year old Russian man who lives with his wife and 3 year old son. They are reporting for a local news station, so they are supposed to be unbiased, yet the government signifigantly edits the contents of their reporting.


Inciting Incident:


One day the two men are reporting at the rally of one candidate, Vladimir Ivanov. They interview him and all goes well, but as they are packing up the film equipment, they see him in an adjacent alleyway, handing a duffel bag of money to an election official. He walks over to ask them if they saw anything and they say no.


Rising Action: 


He later learns that he has been found out and begins to chase after them. The get in their van and speed away from the scene of the confrontation. Dimitri and Nicolai drive for 5 minutes, and begin to think they are in the clear. All of a sudden, they round a corner and see Vladimir in his 3 series. He begins to chase them down the road and they get onto they freeway.


Climax: 


They drive down they freeway, with Vladimir following close behind. All of a sudden they see the Krymsky bridge approaching in the distance. Vladimir catches up and slams his car into theirs, sending them plummeting over the guardrail and into the river below. 


Falling Action: 


Vladimir assumes that both men have perished through falling into the river, but they both swim to shore and hide in an abandoned warehouse. They survive on cardboard and moss for the next three days while making sure the coast is clear.


Resolution:


Realizing that the police are probably corrupt as well, our two journalists are forced to flee to Germany where they continue live their lives working as paper salesmen.

First page short story

17 Hours, 4 minutes, and 20 Seconds

As the last bell rang at Alexander Hamilton High School, 5 teenagers rushed out of the open doors. Summer Vacation had started. Sophomore year was over. It was 86 degrees in Albany, Georgia. While Gabriel, David, Ryan, and Mark all went over to a girl’s house for a swim, John went home; as he did every day after school. He got home to the usual sight. His father passed out on the couch, empty bottle of whiskey on the three legged coffee table. John went straight to his room, and put on his black shoes, black slacks, and white button up shirt. As he walked out of the door, he stopped to look at himself in the mirror. He fixed his hair, put his nametag on, and walked to work. His dad works 4 days a week as a part time security guard at a bank. He spends most of his money on alcohol, and the rest goes to taxes. John works 3 jobs, 6 days a week.

    The summer started to go by very quickly. John worked a lot, but he went out with his friends when he could. Gabriel always stopped by at his job whenever he can to keep him company. They have been best friends since the 2nd grade. In the middle of the summer, Gabriel got his license. The very first day he got it, he drove straight to John’s work. But for some reason he wasn’t there. Gabriel figured he was at one of his other jobs. He drove to each of them but John wasn’t there. So he drove to John’s house. The door to the small house was open. Gabriel walked in to what John saw every day. Someone passed out on the couch, an empty whiskey bottle on the table. Except this time it was John who was asleep on the couch. Gabriel flipped him over, and saw the giant bags under his eyes. He had been crying and hadn’t slept the night before. Gabriel woke him up. In a frantic tone he asked “What happened, John?”

“My dad tried to commit suicide last night..”

“WHAT...?”

“And the child protective services took him. My grandparents are driving from Atlanta to get me in the morning.”

“Wait, why..? Wh.. I.. What the hell man..”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” said john in a disappointed tone. “can i stay at your place till they come?”

“Of course. Anything you need.”

    John thanked him and started to pack his stuff. they drove over to gabriel’s house and ate dinner. Gabriel went to sleep early, he had school in the morning. But John couldn’t sleep. His dad was openly an alcoholic, but he had no idea why or how he attempted to kill himself. He ended up falling asleep at around 3.

With only 5 hours of sleep, John got up to see his grandparents in the living room. They had both taken off work to come get him at 8 in the morning, so they weren’t the happiest campers in the world. The 3 of them stayed for breakfast, and started the 3 hour drive to atlanta. John slept the whole way there. When he walked in to his grandparents house, the first thing he did was go to his mother’s room, which was now his. He couldn’t take it. He had hated his mother his whole life for leaving him and his dad. After 5 seconds, he dropped to his knees and started sobbing. His grandmother walked into the room, but left and acted like she didn’t, since they had only met once. That once was 15 years ago. 15 years ago when she still had contact with her daughter, and her son in law was a business school, non-alcoholic, loving father.

Corrupt pg.1

Equipped with their plump backpacks and boxed lunches, the children marched out their front door with the appearance of tiny soldiers prepared to endure a long day in battle. As they approached the silver Honda Civic parked by the curb, their father jogs up to them to ask, “Do you guys wanna walk to school for a change? It’s such a nice day!” Thirteen-year-old Armande and her nine-year-old twin siblings--Kally and Caleb--halted mid-step. Armande could feel her face light up; and she observed how Kally and Caleb’s demeanor also brightened as they awaited their eldest sister’s answer. Even up close, the twins barely resembled each other. Kally was a full foot taller than Caleb’s three foot ten inches. Armande secretly favored Caleb due to his abnormally short height, and extrovert behavior. Another difference was that Caleb had a narrow bone structure, while Kally’s was more baby-round. The only resemblance they seemed to bear was their large, dark hazelnut eyes; which had widened to achieve their well-practiced, impersonation of the irresistible, puppy-dog eyes.

Armande gave them a knowing smile and a shake of her head. Really, she was too accustomed to fall prey to their petty attempts of subterfuge. She casually spun around to face her father and shrugged, “Sure. Why not”? Although she behaved with nonchalance, she could feel anticipation bubbling up inside. The Chinese-American family had always driven the car everywhere. And though it was a ridiculous dream, Armande had always yearned to walk rather than drive.

Kally and Caleb screeched in excitement as they dashed up ahead, while Armande strolled with her father. She watched the small forms of her siblings as they chased each other around. Always the cautious sister, Armande shouted, “Don’t go too far!”

Finally, Armande gazed at her surroundings in appreciation and a sense of tranquility.  The morning wasn’t too hot, or too cold, with the occasionally light breeze. The sun was shining. The blue sky was clear with the exception of the small, scattered, cotton-looking clouds. Armande admired the mammoth, Victorian-styled houses that lined the block, with their immaculate lawns gleaming like emeralds. She gasped in delight as a vast, grass-park filled with flourishing trees, adorable puppies, and small, wild creatures, came into view across the street. Glancing away, she regarded the spotless, long street which seemed to be bare of cars; which, no doubt, was good for the environment. Even the sidewalks were sparkly! And when she listened closely, she could hear the melodic chirps of birds, and the flow of water. There was probably a beach nearby too! This was definitely almost like paradise. But where were the people Armande wondered. And if every day was like this, it would be positively boring.

Suddenly, her bromidic, very traditional father asked the unexpected, “Hey you guys! Wanna rob this house?” Armande turned to her father and gawked. Pulling herself together from the brief shock, she reassured herself that she must have been momentarily delusional! Just in case, Armande asked, “Excuse me? Did you just ask if we wanted to rob a house!?!”

Her father replied. “Yup!”

She hissed, “Are you insane!?!”

Her father explained, “Nope. Look, if we rob this house, we’ll be filthy rich! And we won’t have to worry about money issues.”

Her father sounded so pragmatic Armande thought with dry humor. She rolled her eyes to the sky. Right…sorry to burst your bubble, but we’ve never suffered from money problems. I have absolutely no clue what he’s rambling about. Seriously, is he high? Ha-ha. Not my father. Why would he even suggest this insanity! And he’s acting like its normal! As Armande’s mind raced about, her siblings came skipping back.

TBC...

                                                                                                                                   

Taniya's Short Story: First Page

I don’t know why I couldn’t sleep. Maybe it was the thought of a new school year? Maybe it was the thought about spending another year all alone? The long lecture I got from my mom this morning about being outgoing and intelligent hadn’t really helped me. I used to be such a bright person but I don’t know what has happened to me. It’s not that I don’t try or anything. I try to do well in school, help my family and be a good person in all but it’s really difficult for me. It’s quite challenging to accept the fact that I used to be a good student once in middle school. Ever since I started high school, my life just took a big turn and for the last 3 years, I’ve hated my life more than anything else in the world. One more year and I’m done with everything. No more pressure in school or from my family. I can go live my life wherever I want. I can do whatever I want; just one more year.

  I woke up to my mom yelling at me to get out of bed and stop being lazy and blah - blah - blah. She annoys me so much sometimes. I mean, it’s Monday morning and she knows that I’m not excited about going back to school after the 3 months summer break. Anyways, I managed to drag myself out of bed and I quickly took a warm shower, brushed my teeth and got ready. I went downstairs to the dining room and surprisingly my breakfast was ready. It was 7:27, which meant I had exactly 13 minutes to have my toast and butter and orange juice. Since my dad was out on another business trip in Miami, my mom had to give me a ride. I could walk but I really couldn’t be bothered. My mom and I left the house at 7:40 and we got to Broker High at 7:55, just in time. School started at exactly 8 and if I was late on the first day, Mr. Foker would most probably kill me. 

 I walked into room F7, my Biology class, and said “Hi” to Mr. Foker. Almost everyone was already there and they were all busy talking about their summer break. The group of so-called popular girls had already started their gossiping about boys. I never understood how someone could be so obsessed with guys on the soccer team. Anyways, I went to the empty seat in the left corner of the room, casually sat down and right when I took my binder out, the second bell rang. Like every year, Mr. Foker asked us about our summer break but most of the people just ignored him. He then started talking about our lesson plans for the rest of the week. After what seemed like 10 minutes, I woke up to the bell ringing. The last thing I could remember was Mr. Foker talking about our lesson plans. If the first class of the first day was this boring, I really had no idea how I was going to survive the rest of the year.

Shenya's Short Story First Page

                            Shenya’s Short Story First Page

It’s a warm sunny day in Utah and Mali looks down at her adolescent granddaughter and smiles wondering what her granddaughters childhood was like. Pain is the automatic response, leading to thoughts of her son. The son she never got to raise, the son that she never got to reunite with. Her thoughts get interrupted, when her granddaughter asks “Why did you have to give up my dad?”. It wasn’t as harsh as it sounded, it was very complicated mali thought to herself.

“It is a very complicated story, but would you like to hear it?”
“Of course grandma Mali!!” exclaimed her granddaughter, a supposed piece of a shattered mirror that was once her son.

It was 1956 I was coming back from the fields deep in the countryside of Thailand .The sun was ruthless against my back , as I was walking back to my huge country-esque house, automatically swatting mosquitos on either side of me. As I walk in the door I am bombarded with my loud wailing brother asking me to help him convince ma. He wanted ma to let him go to school, arguing that it would be beneficial to the whole family.  I told him it was a lost cause because the farm is the main priority of this family but he wouldn’t listen.Since our family had so much work on our hands,being a very reliable farm and all, we never got the chance to go to school like the other kids in sameong,my hometown. But that was never really a problem for me because I devoted all my time to my family and the farm anyways.
It was the day before new years. Everyone was thrilled due to the fact that they had a chance to go to the city. The city was not my favorite place but I sure did love seeing my siblings be happy. Everyone throws water at each other that is blessed by monks , and partially due to the extreme heat. Yes,that was fun, but the one thing that always astonished me was the lotus festival. During the day, after everyone is done throwing blessed water at others we go and make lotus flowers. Then when the sun goes down we all go to this one river and send out our beautiful lotus creations along with our prayers into the vast waters. I was eighteen years old then and that was the year  my prayers had finally been answered. All i wanted was a little variety or change to occur in my life. But i got more than i could ever imagine.
I was walking through the crowds,feeling quite content with myself and I run into someone. I apologize, brushing aside the apology given to me, intent on finding my siblings. I feel someone grab my hand and I look up. It is an american boy, what is it that he is saying to me though, I think to myself. I shake my head trying to find a way to tell  tell him that I don’t speak english. TBC..

I walked down the stairs to the cafeteria. I save a lot more time than other students, who choose to meet their group of friends before they head down to the clean well-lit, well-decorated basement cafeteria. That's mostly because I don't have any friends. No real friends anyway. Just a group of people I hang around with who pretend to be my friends. In reality, I'm their verbal punching bag, as well as a literal one when the football team goes on patrol. They always go for the one who's least likely to try to defend himself. Not that I'm weak or anything, I just never knew how.
 "Erick!"
 I heard a voice and turned around. It was one of my "friends", Kacie
 "Where you goin'? you never wait for me anymore." she pressed
This girl has been trying to mess with my head since we met at the beginning of the year. First she acts like my girlfriend, even though she wasn't, later she ignores me and acts like she hates me, now apparently shes my best friend in the whole wide world. Personally, I preferred being ignored.
I faked a smile. "Sorry, just been a little preoccupied," I lied
 "Lets go then" she linked arms with me, not even giving me a chance to take my hand out of my pocket.
As we got down and got in line to get lunch, she abruptly let go of my arm, brushed her hair out of her eyes and beamed as three huge guys walked by. The captain of the lacrosse team and his gang. They are basically the most wanted guys in the school. Amazing considering they treat females like crap.They completely ignored  her as they walked by and cut in line about three spaces from the front.
"Someone needs to take them down a notch," I said under my breath.
 Kacie latched back onto my arm as they passed. I just kept watching the three dudes, they were thinking they were the kings of the planet or something.
 We got our lunch and walked back to our group. Justin and Nathaniel were waiting for us. They looked from me to Kacie.
 "So are you guys datin' again or what?" Justin asked playfully.
I laughed at the thought that that could ever happen. "Stop playen'," I said, "we never were and you know that."
Just as I said that I looked around and saw the captain and his crew cornering Jacob, a freshman at our school who just never hit puberty. Helpless against the three silver backed gorillas surrounding him. I knew I couldn't do much better, but nobody was helping him and I wasn't going to stand by and see this happen. I walked up to the three gigantic neanderthals with a look of determined rage on my face.

Maggie's 1st page

Maggie's Short Story

I am me. I think my name is Maggie. Female, definitely. Do I know where I am? Not a clue. It seems to be some sort of island. What a nice day! The sun is shining, the breeze is nice, and the birds are chirping. Is-is that “Thriller” I’m hearing? No, I must be imagining it. I can see the forest to my right, and I can hear the ocean to my left… arg, I hate having to choose between two things! Hmm, I wonder why? Oh, I'm getting distracted. I should just walk straight until something in my path makes me turn. 

As I walk along, a tree forces me to turn right. It is getting darker, now that the trees block the sunlight. Well its better for them anyway, since they need the sun more than I do. Photosynthesis and things like that. Wait–what is that? Or actually, who is that? Hello! Hmm. They didn't respond. Queer. Oh! I forgot-I didn’t say that out loud. Better try again. "Hello!” That's better. 

“Greetings!” said the shadowy figure.

“Could you help me? I’m afraid I’m very lost.”

         “Yes, follow me. I’ll take you to my tribe,” he said.

The man was the color of the earth, and his hair was the night. Delicately placed feathers decorated his ensemble. Perhaps I had stumbled into a Native American reserve? He looks quite scary, but I’d take him over spending the night in a place I don’t know all alone. Boy, he walks fast! I wish I was that fit. Right, left, left again. Past the funny rocks with faces carved into them. Around a swamp, undoubtedly filled with nasty creatures. Finally, taking a sharp right, we hike up to a small crevice in the rock, hidden from predators. By this time, the sun had gone from being over our heads to behind us, making our thin shadows dance in front of us.

         “After you.” He smiled, and with a slight bow he waved me through the incredibly small opening. Grimacing back, I crawled through, having to suck my stomach in. 

Tony lee's first page

Graduation 
After graduating out of college Drake lost his memories. He became a slave to his own mind. He has no intentions to either figure out or force it out of himself. Drake was a skinny young man around 23 with long brown hair with a nice face. Just like a vegetable he couldn't control himself for the morning.

Six in the morning he wakes up like a robot shared and took a shower and put on his navy blue suite and his white collared shirt with a red tie. He went across the street the street to get breakfast at McDonald. Some how he had money in his pocket every day, and he did not question it. His apartment complex is an old pipe breaking complex where rats are present in all the apartments the ration between humans to rats are 1:40.

At nine o' Clock a black car arrived in front of the fast food joint and Drake habitually stands up and everything goes dark.

The next morning he wakes up and habitually did the same thing. The black car arrives at nine. As he was getting up a girl caught his eye. Work was far from his mind time froze and for the first time he made a unique memory. Nine 30 a man in black gets out of the black car and forces Drake into the Car. He gave up trying to refuse and yet again his memory faded to black.

The next morning he wore a strangely colored red shirt almost blood like. This morning he wore all red and walked out to get break fast. This morning was like no other she was standing in front of the black car. Who was she?  

Exposition: There I was, first basketball game of the season. My heart beating, hands shaking. After couple seconds, the tip-off happened. My center jumps and smacks the ball towards me before the other team's center  could even jump. As i was dribbling the ball, I walked up the court. My defender quickly  goes for the ball and I saw it coming. As soon as he moved his arm for the ball, i threw it to my center for 2 points. After, we ran back on defense. Their Point Guard walked up the court and right when he passed the half court line, I extended my arm towards the ball. He lost balance, so I ran towards the other side of the court while dribbling the ball. An easy layup was attempted and it was a success. I was never nervous after those 2 easy plays because I got comfortable playing with my team.


Inciting Incident: I was nervous to play in the first basketball game, but got comfortable as soon as a couple plays happened. Plus those 2 plays changed my perspective in a real basketball game.

Rising Action: As the game kept going, I got more and more comfortable playing for the team.

Climax: I made the biggest shot to win the game.

Falling Action: I missed the shot for the game winner, but my center got it and passed it back and I shot it again and won the game.

Conclusion: I was doing great the whole game, and when it came time to win the game by the shot that I took, I missed. We still had a couple seconds left and then my center got the ball, throw it back at me and I was left open, so I took the shot, and made it for the win.

Expostion :  In the small of screwstone texas. The people were separated by money. In the west side there are beautiful lights,fast cars, huge skyscrapers, huge banks and west side was ran by the people.  On the east side there is just poverty, people getting murdered, drug dealers run everything, the casual houses are smalls huts. all the big houses were owned by drug lords, there was also some tiny stores and small establishments. It was everyones dream to get to the west side. People would save up for years just so they could spend one day in the west side. The only way to get to the west side is by crossing a bridge and you need to buy yourself in, get invited, or escorted.

Inciting incident:   in the east side there was 3 young boys named Neko,Nino,and Spice. The 3 brothers were orphans. an old man that owned a small dry cleaners would take care of them his name was old man rick. Neko would watch all the drugs lords drop off all their nice suits and clothings. one day he was cleaning a jacket for one of them and he founds a stack of 30,000 dollars. Not knowing what to do he put it back. The next day the druglord came in too pick up his suit , neko in a hurry got his suit and told him that he left some money in it and its inside that pockets. The druglord laughed and told him to keep it , he said that Neko reminded him of his younger self. Neko ran and told his brothers, they were so excited knowing that they could have a normal life with this kind of money and that they wouldn't have to burden old man rick anymore. they fell asleep dreaming of their new possibilities.

rising action: they woke up early and went to work. when arriving there they noticed that the door was open already, they slowly creeped inside the builiding and saw old man rick shot 3 times.  He was still alive and he told Neko too cum close so he could tell him something. he told Neko too leave the east side and make it too the other side, and help this side once he had the money. Neko and his brothers picked him up and buried him, they later sat down and figured out how they could make the most of all this money. after hours of thinking Neko said he had an idea but they would have to buy tuxedos,weapons,and a nice car. 

climax: that night the brothers bought a fast expensive race car, 3 new tuxs, 3 automatic weapons, lots of bombs, and 3 mask. They went to the bridge to cross the to the west side and planted bombs through out the whole bridge. The plan was a go they were going to rob the biggest bank on the west side. The next morning , they used the rest of there money to go through the bridge. They were so surprised of everything and how beautiful the other side was in person. When they arrive to the bank there was golden statues. Nino stayed in the car , he was going to be the get away driver. Neko and Spice go into the bank guns hot,and kill everybody . Spice watched the door, and Neko hops over the counter opens the safe with one of the bomb and takes 1 billions dollars and a couple bricks of gold. As they come out the police come and its turns into a gun fight. They werent going to make it out of there all alive.

falling action: Spice tells his brother that he ll stay and fight. he says that he ll hold them back for long enough for them to get away. Neko didnt want to leave his brother but he realized that it was going to be the only way to make it out alive. Nino and Neko drove off ,15 mins later spice was shots 25 times. The 2 brothers made it to the bridge and activated the bombs they planted the night before,clearing the way and destroying half the bridge. They made it back safe, but made it impossible to ever go back to the west side without the bridge there is no way there

resolution: the 2 brothers made it back alive, happy, and thankful. they gave money too all the poor familys,cleaned up the streets , and even hired some of the people to be police officers so they could get rid of all the crime. Neko and Nino made the east side a better place for everybody. they made a statue in the name of there brother never forgetting the sacrifice that he made.

Sanams Short Story Proposal

Exposition: A typical Indian American girl, Nadia Hossain, living in Los Angeles, is a junior in high school. School’s boring and she gets by without giving her parents a heart attack meaning she gets A’s but she doesn’t take super challenging classes that she knows she’s not capable of getting A’s in. She lives in a predominantly Indian neighborhood so her friends are mostly Indian. In her friend group she’s pretty funny but to everyone else she seems like a nice, quiet girl. Living in an Indian neighborhood, everybody knows everything about everyone. Afraid to be herself and have people talking about her, Nadia acts like a quiet girl and also, is actually a bit shy because she’s worried about what people would think of her. However, when she’s with her friends she cracks jokes, is careless, and just is herself.  One of her friends is obsessed with some guy called Zayn Malik and won’t stop posting pictures of him on facebook and it pisses her off.

Inciting Incident: She wakes up and looks in the mirror. She’s not a 16-year-old brown girl anymore; she’s still brown but a man and an attractive one at that. She couldn’t realize who she was at first but then found out she was a British singer in a boy band named Zayn Malik. She’s extremely confused at what the hell is going on and doesn’t know if she’s dreaming or not but after slapping and pinching herself to try to wake her self up, she decides to go with it and tries to figure out how to pull off being Zayn Malik since no one would believe her if she said she was some girl named Nadia from Los Angeles.

                                                       

Rising Action: Zayn/Nadia joins the rest of the boys from the band at the recording studio to record a new song.  She’s trying as hard as she can to stall and tries to not have to sing but somehow, she opens her mouth, reads the lyrics off the sheet and sounds like a younger version of Chris Brown. In the middle of recording the new track they have breaks in which they talk to some radio or a lucky prize winner that won a call with Zayn Malik and the reactions from the girls are so strange to get. They’re either insanely obsessive and know everything about you, or they just think you’re super hot and that’s the only thing they think about you. It’s strange because Nadia’s only done that with her friends about other guys she thought were hot not had it said to her and it just made girls sound so desperate. But it felt kind of good to have people that like her want to talk to her, and care about her in a way. 

Climax: After a long day of singing and interviews, the boys announce that Liam’s friend Andy’s having a party and they’re all invited. On their way to the party they see some girls who recognize and them and stop to sign some autographs. Nadia’s amazed at how polite and graceful the boys are to the girls even after the long day of work because she just wanted to go home. At the party, Maz, another one of their friends, asks Zayn if he likes any of the girls at the party and why he’s not talking to any. Pressured into chatting up a girl, Nadia practiced her brooding face which isn’t that hard to with Zayns face, and just sort of stands around with that face until the most decent girl that comes up to him somehow ends up going home with him. At his house, he assumes they’re supposed to have sex but it’s too awkward for Nadia and she runs away. 

Falling Action: Nadia realizes there’s no point in trying to be someone you’re not because you’ll never be satisfied. You use up all this energy, for nothing. No one treated Zayn differently for not sleeping with some one at that party except for the fact that things were awkward between the girl and him/her. And you always wish you did something differently because you were pretending to be someone you’re not while when you are yourself, you know that’s the only thing you would do. She also understands that the people that really care for her will always be there for her and if they don’t care and make up rumors about, it just means they’re jealous and it doesn’t matter what they think because you know yourself better than they do.

Resolution: Nadia wakes up. She’s back in her old bed, same sheets, and same blanket. Nadia checks what she looks like in the mirror and sees that she’s herself again. She doesn’t look as pretty as she did before, but she looks like her self again. Was it all a dream? She still doesn’t know because she never managed to figure out the date their but, although it felt uncannily real it had to be dream, stuff like that just doesn’t happen in real life. Nadias glad to be back, all that pop star stuff was too much work. Nadia appreciates her life and the fact that she’s able to be herself and stops pretending to be shy and does whatever she wants. She starts always acting like how she is around her friends and being happy with herself.

Simrans short story, first page

It was a hot summer’s day in Nairobi, Kenya. Sonja, a 16 year old girl who lived with her family on their small tea plantation was cooking breakfast with her mother, Kiran. Her father Rajinder walked in and threw the daily delivered newspaper down on the table. Her mother examined the paper and immediately rushed Sonja out of the kitchen and into the bed room. 

“What’s happened?” Her 14 year old sister asked 

Sonja shrugged and told her it was nothing, she knew whatever it was having 6 other children worrying about it was not going to help. Apart of her felt bad for lying though, her sister Tanvir was the second oldest behind herself. She felt she could share anything with her, because she was the closest sibling she had. 

The rest of the kids came into the room. First was Nikku who was 12 with short brown hair and very dark skin , then there was 10 year old Viro who was the shortest out of the family with long burnette hair. The two younger siblings Ragu who was 7 and Mickey who was the only son came in sobbing next. It was obvious what was wrong, the screams coming from the kitchen were pretty self explanatory. Sonja held them both and rubbed their backs soothingly. The rest of the children sat silently trying to make out what on earth their parents were fighting about.

“Well what are we going to do? Drop everything here? That’s impossible in a time like this Rajinder! Mickey will be starting school in a few months!” Her mother yelled

“You know we are in danger if we stay here, this isn’t about us anymore its about the future for this family.” Her father responded softly 

They could only here silence, and then footsteps headed towards the room. The door opened, you could see the tears in her mother’s eyes. They took seats on the one bed her brother slept on and sat in silence.

“Mom, why were you crying?” Nikku asked. 

“Look kids, we have to tell you something so everyone listen. There’s a bad man named Idi Amin and he is forcing all of us to leave the country.” Her Dad started

Sonja had remembered hearing about this around town. Idi Amin was the current president of Uganda which was the neighbor to Kenya. He had given all of the Asian population in both countries 90 days to leave or be killed.

“But you see your mother and I can’t leave Nairobi until the plantation is sold.” He held his breathe as he saw his wives heart drop. “That’s why Sonja we need you to be strong, and prove to us that you are responsible enough to take your sibling to Europe by your-“

“No dad.” She cut him off “I Can’t do that I’m only 16! I can’t work!” 

“Daughter trust in us you will be safer there, we will give you help you with money and show you where to stay. Trust in us.” 

Sonja was terrified, she knew she had been through a lot for a girl her age but she would have never dreamt of this. Her Mother began taking the few clothes out of the closet and packing them into bags. Tanvir and Nikku immediately started helping her.

Naomi's Short Story

At ten years old, Connor Bailey was fatherless.  “Not fatherless,” people would tell him.  “Your father’s just going away for a little while to defend our country.  He’s still your father, you know.”  But as far as Connor was concerned, if his dad wasn’t coming home tonight, or tomorrow night, or any of the nights after that until who-knows-when, he was as good as fatherless.  He’d smile at well-meaning strangers who patted him on the head because he was an army kid.  He’d wave flags at the parades, and he’d sing patriotic songs at the rallies, and he would despise it all.

His teachers began to send home notes.  “Connor has been very quiet in class lately.  Is everything all right at home?”  “Connor hasn’t been completing his homework.  Please let me know if he’s having any trouble understanding it.”  “Connor’s latest tests have all been handed in blank.  He is at risk of failing the fifth grade.  Please meet with me at your earliest convenience.”  Connor’s mother, however, never got these notes.  She spent her days in front of the television, or with her photo albums, eyes glassy with unshed tears.  Connor would let himself into their apartment after school, make himself milk and crackers, and sprawl out on the floor by the apartment’s dusty window with his sketchbook.  He drew the gutted, burning buildings that he saw on the nightly news, and the ashes that swirled through his town like charred snowflakes.  He drew train stations full of men leaving their families behind, and he drew cities burning to the ground.  And when he tired of drawing reality—it never took long—he drew sun-speckled trees, and sparkling beaches, and skies lit aflame with sunset.  If anything was bright and beautiful, Connor tried to capture it on paper, because he could not stand the gray that carpeted every surface of his world.  At seven years old, Connor Bailey’s world was incredibly bleak… and so he drew himself pictures of a better life.

At twenty years old, Connor Bailey was an artist.  He made his living by sketching portraits or scenery (or anything, quite honestly) for anybody who cared to buy his work.  He was still surrounded by the war.  His father had never come home, and on the day Connor turned eighteen, he woke up to a completely silent apartment.  His mother was gone, leaving behind no explanation but a yellow slip of paper on the kitchen table.  Connor knew that she would not return, and he was left incredibly confused and incredibly alone.  Every night, he covered the windows of their--his apartment with heavy black curtains, praying that he would not be woken by the screaming of bombs and the roar of flames that had already destroyed so many cities.

Every morning, Connor would go out into the city.  he would draw everything, or as close to everything as he possibly could.  And everything--everything--was gray.  The ashes and the smoke, soot and steel that made up his city.  The cement and the water; the sky and all the burned-up hopes and dreams.  Everything that made up the city was gray, and Connor could only wonder when the life (and the colors) would come back.  The war had sucked everything beautiful away.

Quite honestly, nobody understood the war anymore.  It didn’t even have a real name--it was always just “the war.”  Even after twenty years of life in a world ravaged by war, Connor could only guess at the reasons for the war.  He supposed that there had been a good reason many years ago, but now?  Who knew.

Nelia's Short Story: Trip to France

I have never enjoyed going on trips to unknown places. The last time we traveled was last year for my 11th birthday. We went to the Grand Canyon, a place not too far from home. We stayed in a seemingly abandoned RV park located just outside of the actual Grand Canyon. The whole trip wasn't so fun though because my parents were on the phone the whole time, doing work or something. I like to be somewhere where I can feel comfortable and don't have to keep an eye on what goes on around me. It rarely happens that I actually have fun on the trips my parents drag me along to, so I try to resist them as much as possible. However, it was my parents' 25 anniversary and they were determined to make it their best anniversary so far. One day when I overheard them talking about ticket and hotel prices, I knew I was in for it. Unfortunately, their destination of choice was the Provence in the South of France. While others would have been ecstatic to have the opportunity to go here, I already knew it was going to suck, especially because with my parents, everything is unexpected and our trips always get sabotaged one way or the other.

My parents insisted we come here. They've always looked for the alternative traveling arrangements. We always are the ones taking a community driven bus rather than renting a car or staying in an authentic group hut in South Africa instead of in a hotel. This time we're staying at an old French farmhouse, run by an old couple just trying to make ends meet. The house is made of cold grey stones in desperate need of reparations. The front yard is a jungle, the grass seems although it has never been cut and an army of weeds has hidden the flowers. We walk towards the tremendous wooden door, heavier than any door I have ever felt before. When we first arrive, we check in, my parents sign a bunch of papers and the old woman who owns the house shows us to our room. We walk through the narrowing hallway, the floor boards creaking with our every step. When we finally reach our rooms at the end of the hall, the woman forces open the thin wooden door. "Here's your room," she tells us in her thick, French accent. Her voice is monotone, lacking any sort of emotion or warmth. Her cracked skin and aged blue eyes depict a life of hardships and struggle. It is clear that she is not wealthy, for her colorless dress has loose threads and missing buttons. The room is simple and the furniture seems as though it belongs in a time several decades ago. Three narrow metal beds painted with a now faded pink are lined up, occupying the whole back wall. Thin woven blankets accompanied by frumpy white pillows lay on the bed. On the wooden desk, which is pushed against the chipping wall, sits a ceramic water jug and bowl embroidered with flowers, the rim lined with gold. The rooms conditions are no surprise to me. While others may have been discontent or some even appalled, my parents were beyond pleased with the arrangement. Typical. 

After we settle in, the sound of a cowbell fills the air, notifying us that dinner is being served. We sit outside under the still blazing sun, despite the fact that it is already 8pm, and eat the overcooked meal family style with everyone staying at the house. After finishing my meal mom gives me my daily pill and water. She's always worried that I'm going to get sick or something so she gives me all these pills. I look around the table, and something tells me these people are not to be trusted. I have a feeling they are plotting against me. I can see them exchanging looks, trying to figure out how they will do it. There is one girl in particular who is up to something. I can feel her glaring eyes judging my every move. She seems to be the grand daughter of the couple who own the house judging by the way they interact. I don't know what her deal is but I know that I don't want anything to do with her. I'm stilling look at her when she looks up, making awkward eye contact. When she smiles at me, goosebumps run down my spine, making my whole body tremble. She is planning something. I've only been in this place for an hour and already they are trying to kill me. I knew this would happen, I had expected it. I am always the target. Maybe its because I have a petite stature and people think it's okay to mess with me, or maybe its my personality. I think they feel threatened by me and therefore everyone is out to get me.

As the suns begins to hide behind the hills, conversation dies and we begin to leave the table and return back to our rooms. The crickets wont stop making sounds, making it even harder to sleep. The heat of the night is making my whole body sweat and I'm constantly tossing and turning, just hoping that I will be able to fall into a deep slumber. But no. I lay awake, looking at the cracked ceiling, afraid that it is going to sink into the room and kill me and my parents. Wait. What was that noise? I can hear footsteps trying to walk through the hall, trying to be sneaky but because of the old floors is creating a symphony of crackling. Who the hell is out at this time of night? I decide to go look and investigate, and see a short shadow with long hair. It's her. The girl from the dinner table. I knew she was after me. I think I should go check on what she’s doing and try to stop her from what she’s planning on doing. I creep out of my bed, careful not to make a sound to avoid waking up my over protective parents. The door leading out to the dimly lit hallway squeaks but luckily no one awakens. I step one foot out of the door and start to hear whispering from all around the house. It gets louder as I tip toe down the hallway, nearing towards the kitchen. There must be more people there. With each step I take, my heart begins to race faster and faster, giving me the false impression that I am at the verge of having a heart attack. I hear a woman’s voice scolding in a hushed tone, “No no, don’t do that. Go and keep guard of the door and make sure he doesn’t come until we are ready.” Thoughts about what they could be talking about start to race through my head. I’m almost certain they are talking about me. They must be setting up a death trap. I take a step from the hallway into the kitchen and there they are. The little girl whose shadow I saw is standing by the door across the kitchen. Next to her stands her grandmother, clearly caught by surprise, holding a huge, shiny butcher knife covered in blood. “ What are you doing here, young man? You shouldn’t be seeing this yet.” says the old woman. She makes her way over to me. I try to speak but no sound comes out of my voice. I cannot believe that this is happening to me again. When I finally build up the courage to reply, I whimper back “ Don’t kill me. I didn’t do anything wrong! ” She is trying to cover up her true motives and fool me into thinking that she is kind, and gentile. The old woman takes a step closer to me, the knife still in her hand. Unable to think straight because of the overwhelming reality that I am only seconds away from being killed, I begin to yell uncontrollably. This is the only way I know how to defend myself. I hear the slamming of doors, and a stampede of footsteps coming our way. I stand frozen, staring at the hallway, when I see the familiar faces of my parents sprinting towards us. They have come to save me from my death. My mother runs up to me and pulls me into her loving arms. My father, however, is talking to the old woman. He seems to be apologizing. I am perplexed. Why in the world is he apologizing to the woman who just tried to murder me. She looks at him with her cold eyes as her grey head bobbles up and down in understanding. I begin to get angry. “ Why are you apologizing to her?? Don’t you believe me when I tell you she was trying to kill me? We need to get out of here!!” I yell. “ Sweety,” my mom says “ She had no intention of killing you. There is no danger here. It is a safe place. You can feel comfortable here. She is just preparing a surprise meal for your birthday tomorrow. See, she’s making your favorite turkey!” I look at the bloody knife and then to the turkey. But it's all just a set up. It isn’t fair that no one believes me. I know what I am talking about. No one here is to be trusted but they never understand when I tell them that. They think I am making it up. I stomp off to the room, not wanting to hear one more second of their bullshit. Sometime I think that they are a part of it too. That they are also plotting with everyone else to get me. It would make sense. But then I remember how they are my parents and it wouldn’t make sense. 

I try to fall asleep again once I climb back into my bed. I want to get out of here, but my eye lids are heavy and my body is screaming at me, telling me to just sleep. So the next morning when I wake up, I start to pack my suitcase. My parents have also returned to bed and have started to clean up the room. We have only been here one night and already are leaving. I don’t understand why they still try to go on vacation because this happens every single time. We walk down the long hallway, back to the front of the house. When we reach the front door, my father slips off somewhere very quickly and returns with some papers. He denies permission for me to see them, saying they are private papers. As we get into our car and drive away, I lay down across the backseat in attempt to take a nap. My dad’s papers are on the seat next to me. They sit there, practically asking to be looked at. He is busy driving and talking to my mom so now is the perfect moment to sneak a glance. I lift up the first paper and see the words ‘ Psychiatric Mental Health Facility- Specialized in Schizophrenia’. I decide to look further. The rest of the page says describes multiple different locations that the mental hospital resides in. One in South Africa, one in the Grand Canyon, and one in the Provence. This tells me nothing. So much for private, exciting papers. I decide to put the papers back in their place and sleep the rest of the way to the airport, trying to forget the terrors of this ridiculous trip.