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.