Ella sits in her bed looking at the picture of her mother and father with her together. When Ella was three her town was under attack, and she was separated from her family. She longs to be back with them, all of the wonderful memories she wish she could have again with them. Instead she lives in a foster home. The family is wonderful and nice but it’s not the same for Ella. This makes Ella happy and sad. She looks through the family album and it felt like she could hear their voices, she could see their smiles, and it felt like she could smell their sweet smell of perfume on her mother, taste the muffins they used to make, and feel the warmth of being with them. As she flips the pages she let’s tears out. She can’t help it. Ella drops the book on the floor, and falls back on her bed. She can’t take the pain anymore, she can’t take not seeing her family, she can’t take not knowing what happened to her family. Then Knock Knock Knock. What now an0ther family looking to get her, and then breaking her heart, and not taking her. Ella wiped her tears away and walks downstairs to see such familiar faces. Her mom and dad are back. She runs to them, with her hair flying back she jumps into their arms. Ella cries with joy and doesn’t bother to wipe the tears away. At last they reunite.
0 Comments
The wind blew hard and fast. I struggled to make my way past the line of the two worlds. I felt like my feet are about to blow off. Inch by inch I walked. I lost my friend at the beginning. ‘Only one can pass’ The words of the prophecy rings in my head. I’m the one who can pass. I have to make it, the 2 worlds depend on me, I Thought. I jumped up and ran as fast as I could. The wind blew through my loose orange hair and threw me backwards. The wind stung my face.
“Pots dniw!” I yelled. It didn't work. I yelled it again. ‘The power of the line resist all power and magic.’ I remembered my mentor tell me. I sighed as I struggled forward. I couldn't shield myself, I couldn't stop the wind and I couldn't teleport myself away from the line. There is no going back from the line. I’d never heard of anyone who had crossed the line that survived the journey. The thought scared me. What if I don’t make it? What if I can’t fulfill the prophecy? All of these thoughts went through my head all at once. I started to get overwhelmed. ‘Remember, try to stay whelmed.’ I heard my friend’s voice say. He said that too often. What if I never see my friends and mentor again? The thought ran through my head along with the others. It had been days, maybe weeks until I saw the border of the line. I ran as fast as I could. I then realized that I was not moving. I looked at my feet. I was slowly sinking. I started to freak out. I then remembered that my mentor told me that the more you struggle, the faster you’ll sink. I relax my body, but on the inside, I was still freaking out. I made my way slowly and steadily so that I wouldn't sink deeper into the sand. I finally reached out my arm and touched the line. ‘Once you touch the line,everything will stop.’ I remembered my mentor say. Everything stopped once I touched it. I could move fully again and my face didn't hurt anymore and the wind stopped. I ran to the other world. I saw lush green grass, tall trees, beautiful multi-colored flowers and it was wonderful. I felt a burst of life come to me. July 3, 2013
I watched the town burn. The horses were falling backwards. People layed face down on the sidewalk. The tables were inching off the ground. The asphalt was metamorphosing into dirt. The crows bit off the heads of mourning doves. The flowers whistled, and the crops turned to ash. I knew I had just caught myself in Limbo, and it was only a glimpse of what I thought was Hell. As the water covered me, and the world turned dark, I thought that I would live. Part 1 of 3: Harvest Feast July 3, 2008. The Cline family was a family of matter. It was family tree of gods. A Grandmother who loved giving out tough, but sweet, love. A sympathetic, caring mother. Three wild boys and two quiet girls. And a father who was nice and hard working. But, he had a demon on his shoulder that no other Cline knew about. A demon that would plague his crops, murder his livestock, and send ever Cline to eternal fiery Limbo. “Are you kidding me? We’re not fine.” My screams echo into their faces. As I expect, my cry comes right back. Blood steps to me. Her eyes pierce my swelling soul.
“You are blind.” He spits many drop of warm sticky blood into the air. One lands on my shirt. That is when Death steps up. “You are deaf,” he screams letting out black liquid tainting my white clothing. I start to panick. “Please. So many people are losing me! This is not okay! We have to all be equal.” “Innocence! It is our time!” Blood steps back and starts to gargle. Then she spits into the air releasing blood. “Please help! All of me is black and red! You cannot get rid of me! Innocence is DYING!” My clear white vision starts to blind me with red blood, and black death. “please…” Finally it was Saturday the first part of the ceremony. Baby Iris would be given later on they would announce her during the ceremony but they would not actually give her to the family just yet.
“Michael, will be given to the Pevensie’s Abigail, Paul, and Cassandra” The Chief announced Cassandra and her family walked up to the stage and received Michael in a basket with a pale blanket with his comfort object wrapped in his arms. Cassandra silently watched the rest of the ceremony. “Mark, will be given to the Smith’s Susan, Scott, and Melanie” The chief announced. “Iris, will be given to the McCarver's Leah, and Lester as their first child” The chief repeated Cassandra continued to watch the ceremony as the twos, threes, fours, fives, sixes, sevens, and eights continued their ritual. This Saturday, I attended the 13th birthday of my close friend, Isabel Catalan. As I write this, I think back through the three years that we have known each other, and how we met. And, as I tell our story, I make a wish for the future as well: that we will continue to stay friends, no matter what comes our way.
We became friends because of the Harry Potter series (although knowing my obsession with the books, that’s not surprising). It was fourth grade, and I had just moved to a new school. Norwood Fontbonne Academy was, for the most part, a strict, sheltered, uncomfortable-uniform Catholic School. Comparing my new and old schools was like comparing water and fire; my first school had been a colorful, fun Montessori experience where I had loved learning, had much more freedom and many more friends. My parents, who believed that my education was very important, had made many sacrifices over the years to give me a good one. We were never really rich, and I had moved schools mainly because we could no longer pay the tuition, which seemed to me to be about a million dollars - and the new school wasn’t much cheaper. This story is set in the same universe as The Giver
No weather penetrated the barriers of the Community, but Ravan felt a storm of terror. It threatened to engulf her as she pedaled her bicycle down the river path, hurrying towards the House of the Old. No one would have guessed, with her serene expression, orderly clothing, and hair neatly brushed - but then, no one but Ravan could know of true terror in the first place. For reasons she still could not understand, the Community had no true emotion, no creativity, no weather, no hills - No love. No life. And soon -in five days, to be exact - she was to become a full member of it, at her Ceremony of Twelve. It was this causing her terror - after what she had seen, what she had discovered, she simply could not do this…… She took a breath to steady herself, wheeling her bike into its port outside the House of the Old, then looking around surreptitiously. To any Elders that might be observing her, it would hopefully look as though she was preparing to spend her last Volunteer Hours there; she had come often. Then she tensed her legs, tightened her shoulders, preparing to make the exhilarating dash - “Hello, Ravan!” She spun around. It was Jonas, coming out of the House of the Old was another of their fellow Elevens, Fiona. She smiled, then headed for her bicycle, and with a goodbye, sped off. Jonas lingered for a moment. His odd, light eyes met Ravan’s equally strange ones - one light, like his, and one dark, like the majority of their Community. Jonas was one of the few people who ever seemed to notice Ravan, much to her annoyance. Note: This is an excerpt from Julianna's NaNoWriMo novel
A storm was brewing. There was a soft pitter-pattering of rain on windows, and a low growl of thunder that sounded from time to time. Although, in the small apartment on the second floor of a dirty, soggy apartment building, there was only one small window, high up on the wall, and the only reminder of the rain was the steady stream of water that flowed down the wall from a leak. Maxwell Marlowe, however, wouldn’t have noticed the rain anyway. He sat at his desk, the only piece of furniture in the room besides his bed, and stared at a sheet of extremely messy calculations. A pencil, held in his right hand, tapped against the desk. Finally, his gaze shifted to a strange device, lying on the floor. It was a bright, shining silver, and looked like a large, thin, elegant pen - except for a sphere at the top, which rotated and seemed to shine with many different, soft, hypnotizing, colors. Several wires were connected to various parts of the pen, which were in turn plugged into an electrical outlet on the wall. For several moments, Maxwell examined different parts of the pen, the silence in the room heavy. Then, the spell of pristine quiet was broken. As I lay still on my bed with more than four blankets piled on my me, I dream silently of ?. I decide I never want to awake not from this dream. It’s so peaceful, calm, and something to enjoy. I don’t want to wake up by my stupid alarm and go to school. I’d rather sleep and sleep and sleep. But I can’t for long because that’s when all the sudden randomly, while i’m still in my dream, I hear my alarm jumping up and down awaking me. Snapping me back to reality. I’m just to far from it so instead of getting up, I slam it pressing the snooze button. Five minutes later I hear again my stupid alarm waking me, taking me out of my dream. So again I slam snooze, this time when I lay back down i’m tired, needing more sleep. I just can’t fall asleep though. My dream is lost in my mind, it’s gone forever. So I sit up dreading the day. Then I think of makes the whole situation worse. It’s Monday.
The lights outside shimmer, in the dark. As everyone sleeps awaiting for the next day. When there will be presents lined under the christmas trees. When wrapping paper and bags will be thrown across the floor. When they will have a special breakfast and have an absolute wonderful day. Everyone will be joyful in one way or another. The air will smell like pine and cookies because of the christmas trees and the cookies being baked. Seeing family and having a great feast for dinner and cookies for dessert. Watching movies at night with hot cocoa in your lap. What a wonderful day Christmas is. But when the days over, we go back to sleep and the next day isn't special like Christmas.
|
Archives
February 2023
Categories |