Writer's Block

Aphrodite's Downfall

2007-09-24T19:31:08Z

I am in love with this piece. It took me a long time to do it and I just love how it turned out. The first half is all me, and the second half I used song lyrics/poems for the most part:
"The First Single" - The Format
"The Walk" - Imogen Heap
"The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" - T.S. Eliot
"Over My Head" - The Fray
"Break So Easy" - Johnathan Rice
"Sick Cycle Carousel" - Lifehouse
"The Hollow Men" - T.S. Eliot

I'm looking to make it even better so please let me know what you think!! (Some of the formatting is lost because LJ sucks but you get the main feel so it's alright)

It’s not you, it’s me, in the strangest way possible. I want you for my own purpose, me, mine, not for you. Not for your wants, needs, desires, passions -- for mine. Not for your thoughts, capabilities, ethics, morals, intelligence, attractiveness, not for anything but my selfish, bitchy, self-conscious, moody, unconfident, unhappy self.

I want you for me. I want you to make me happy, happier, happiest. I want you to transform me from this to that, from black to white, from up to down. I don’t care how nice your hair looks today, tell me how I look.

I want you to make me feel primal, instinctual. I want you to make me feel exotic, quixotic, hypnotic. I want you to make me feel like I am the only thing worth anything on this forsaken planet. I want you to make me a Goddess, to take me from my mundane trivialities and transport me to a heaven of my own design.

The world is not an oyster; it is the pearl inside of me, growing grain by grain until it becomes a perfect sphere. I need you to pry me open and seize my pearl in your rugged sea-worn hands.

I’ve been waiting all this time to be
Something I can’t define

Locked eyes, silent questions, a brush of skin on flesh. A glance, a laugh, suggestions of things to come. Slow sensual smiles. I pause. You inquire. The time is gone for hesitation. Now, seduction.

I want this, and yet…

And yet…
(I think you’d better leave)

Graze of hand on arm, on cheek, erasing doubt. Quickened breath, parted lips anticipate. Warm skin shivers.

(That’s where this ends, no mistakes, no misbehaving)

Moist pressure on skin, on lips.

(I feel a weakness coming on)

I was doing so well

Could we just be friends?

Don’t make it harder than it already is

big trouble losing control primary resistance at a critical low on the double gotta get a hold.
point of no return one second to go

Why make me feel like this?
It’s just what I don’t need.
I don’t want to feel like this.
It’s definitely all your fault.

Give in, give in
and relish every minute of it

Later
After the restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
(I should have been a pair of ragged claws)
I wonder – was it worth it, after all, was it worthwhile?
I dared disturb the universe.
You vanished.

I wish you were a stranger I could disengage

Oh lord, we break so easy
Oh lord, we shatter like glass

If shame had a face I think it would kind of look like mine
If it had a home it would be my eyes

I never thought I’d end up here
I tried to see how low I can get down to the ground
I guess I kind of thought it would be easier than this

I guess I was wrong

I dared
I dared
I dared disturb the universe
And it ended with a whimper.

The Pond

2007-09-16T22:27:42Z

No light on the water
As I dove in alone.
Naked flesh yielding to
Icy crests.

Sunlight on the water
As I dove in with you.
Clothed flesh protected from
Cool ripples.

Moonlight on the water
As I dove in with him.
Undivided flesh enclosed by
Fervid waves.

Poem I wrote at Raquette Lake

2007-09-10T03:37:36Z

It is as of yet untitled.

I saw the dim in your eyes
when I asked you the question.
Sometimes, I guess, we need to find ourselves first.
Maybe we just need a push before
we take the long-awaited plunge;
like novice divers on an overhanging bridge.
Because we both know the bottom of desire
but have yet to find the meaning of this.
Somehow I see a
Beginning and an End
Encroaching upon us with
Rapid ferocity.

I guess we won't have long to wait.

Joseph Burns

2007-08-14T01:38:17Z

Finally, a new story! This was inspired by countless hours hating my job followed by conversations of dripping water with Daron and Kelsie. It was just a fun little thing to keep me entertained but I really enjoy it. Let me know what you think, and also, any title ideas would be great.

Joseph Burns’ face was mere centimeters from his monitor, the light of which illuminated the drops of perspiration coursing down his large, reddened forehead. He chanced a glance at the clock: ten of eleven.

“How’s it goin’, Joe?” came a voice dripping with the sickly taint of over-friendliness.

The man in question swiveled around in his office chair, startled, and stared at the man leaning against his cubicle entryway as if he was some unpleasant material found in a public restroom.

The man took a casual sip from his coffee mug while peering around the organized mess of Joseph’s cubicle in an appraising sort of way. “Just wanted to remind you that we need that report in by 11:30, alright buddy?” asked the man, stepping forward to punch Joseph’s shoulder in an old-school-pals fashion.

Joseph rubbed his shoulder and nodded. Once the man left his cubicle, Joseph again resumed his position in front of the computer, typing frantically.

“Just wanted to see how that report’s coming!” called a sickly-sweet woman’s voice from his cubicle entrance. Joseph, currently in the “zone” as it is often referred to, did not even bother turning around or responding in any sense. After a few moments the woman stalked away, disgruntled.

Another glance at the clock: 11:10.

Joseph reached into his suitcase. He rifled through his overdue bills and pictures of his kids and ex-wife until he came across several sheets of paper with various notes, numbers, and percentages scrolled across them. Back to the computer.

Type, Type, Type.

Type, Type, Type.

Type, Type, Type.

Type, Type,
Drip.

Joseph stopped typing. He even stopped breathing. Every ounce of his body was listening. All that he could hear was the normal bustle of the office. After a few moments he resumed his work.

Drip.

Every muscle in Joseph’s body clenched, from the back of his neck to his hand and legs. He shook his head slightly and forced his fingers to continue typing.

Drip.

Joseph’s head shot up like a clown being blasted out of a cannon. His breath quickened and became increasingly more shallow. His head began to tremble as the muscles tightened in his neck.

Drip.

Standing up so quick that the chair spun itself in dizzying circles, Joseph peered over the walls of his cubicle, his eyes narrowed as if to force them to turn into drip-seeking binoculars. As he searched his eyes fell across the large clock mounted on the far wall: 11:20.

Cursing his unproductive span of time, Joseph quickly sat back into his chair and resumed work, typing as quickly as he could while remaining accurate.

Type, Type, Type, Type, Type, Type, Type, Type,

Drip.

He paused for half a second then willed himself to continue working.

Type, Type, Type, Type, Type, Type, Type, Type,

Drip.

Type, Type, Type,

Drip.

Type,

Drip.

Type, Type, Type, Type,

Drip, Drip.

A slight pause.

Type,

Drip, Drip, Drip.
Another, longer, pause.

Type,

Drip, Drip, Drip, Drip, DRIP!

Type, Type,

DRIP, DRIP, DRIP!

TYPE, TYPE, TYPE!

DRIP, DRIP, DRIP, DRIP, DRIP, DRIP!

With a great howl of rage Joseph gained his feet and ran in the direction of the offending noise.

DRIP, DRIP, DRIP!

He located it almost immediately: a sink located in the empty break area. Now at a full sprint, Joseph could plainly see the hellish object. Clear, round liquid was forming at the end of the faucet. Joseph ran faster. The water began to ball towards its center, stretching itself longingly towards the metal basin. He was nearly there.

The water detached itself from the faucet and fell as if in slow motion, landing with a resounding DRIP!

Joseph bellowed like a wounded animal and tore the faucet effortlessly out of the countertop.

It was done. He had defeated the dripping menace. He stood for a moment, holding the faucet in his right hand and breathing heavily. Then, dropping the faucet unceremoniously onto the floor, Joseph walked calmly back to his cubicle, unaware of the frightened glances from his coworkers.

As he rounded the corner, he spotted the man and woman who had stopped by his cubicle earlier standing in front of his entryway. “Ah, there you are ol’ pal,” said the man. “Got that report on Proper Mental Care for Employees for us?”

“Yes, can you believe it?” simpered the woman. “Some people believe we work our employees too hard and don’t pay them enough, but I’ll defend this company ’til I die!” she laughed, twisting the cap off of her bottle of cold water.

Joseph watched the bottle as it was lifted up towards the woman’s lips, watched the condensation gather at the bottom as she lowered it. The liquid balled towards the center, and then stretched itself towards the tiled floor.

Drip!

Romeo

2007-03-30T21:03:23Z

Revised! Different tone, and I love this one better. Thanks Aaron!
EDIT: After reading it at the Blue Frog, I feel very happy with it. A lot of people liked it :-).

Ryan looked like he was in a teen movie. First, he was in that stupid pose that everyone thinks they need to do, you know, where they’re leaning over the sink and peering intently at themselves. Second, he did his best to look exactly like Freddy Prinze Jr. off of She’s All That, the spiky hair, the preppy clothes, and in fact, his motto of the night was one of the corniest lines from that movie: “Sometimes when you open up to people, you let the bad in with the good.”
Not only was his inspiration for the night a really cheesy chick flick, but Romeo and Juliet was prominently exhibited on his desk. See, Ryan had the hots for this girl Jess, who he’d known for a few months now. They’d actually become pretty decent friends, but, Ryan was now working himself up to profess his undying love to her.
Once he felt sufficiently psyched up, Ryan grabbed his coat, keys, and wallet, and headed to the flower shop like any decent hopeless romantic. But, see, apparently this girl was worth it. She was his Laney Briggs, his Juliet. After purchasing his classic dozen roses, he headed off to Jess’ with the swagger of a confident man.
Nearly leaping up the steps towards the porch, Ryan knocked courageously on the door, a fearless smile upon his face. Nothing happened. Ryan’s smile faded. He knocked again, slightly less exuberantly. After a moment, the door slowly creaked open, and a sleepy girl poked her head out. “Waddya want?” she murmured.
“Uh….hey, is Jess around?” Ryan asked, trying to look over the girl’s head into the house. The girl glanced down at the flowers Ryan was grasping in white knuckles.
“She’s at a party. Down on Main, can’t miss it.” SLAM.
Ryan stood on the porch for a moment, fairly dazed. The flowers themselves seemed to wilt in his hand. Reminding himself of his quote of the night, he assumed that this was simply the bad that had to come along with the good. A party? Well, that could be ok, he’ll just go talk to her there! And so he turned from the porch, with a little less of a swagger than before, and headed towards Main.
The party scene he had imagined was nothing compared to the reality. Music was blaring, people were shouting, and the smell of beer hung like sulfur in the air. He considered for a moment retreating back to his place, but would Freddy Prinze Jr. have done that? Would Romeo? I think not. And so Ryan marched bravely on, squeezing past the intoxicated undergrads strewn about the porch until he finally reached the door. There wasn’t any point in knocking, he figured, since nobody would be able to hear it anyway, and so, he forced his way in.
For a split second, he lamented about ever finding Jess in such a crowd, but he soon spotted her, much to his chagrin, scantily clad and dancing provocatively on the dining table, surrounded by a horde of hungry guys.
Pushing his way through the masses, Ryan made it to the table, and before he could try to get her safely down, she spotted him.
“RYAN!” she screeched out, tottering as she balanced on high heels, while on a table three feet off the ground mind you. She made a sudden leap for him, and luckily for her he was sober and caught her, dropping the flowers on the beer-soaked floor. As Jess gained her balanced, Ryan looked down upon the flowers in regret. The boys around the table looked disappointed about the disappearance of their entertainment. “How ARE you?” she yelled, partly from intoxication and partly to be heard over the noise.
“Hey, um, good….I uh…kinda wanted to talk to you…”
“YEAH! OK! Let’s go TALK!”
Jess grabbed Ryan’s wrist and led him into a surprisingly empty bedroom. Even after shutting the door, the noise was incredible. “I’m SO glad you’re here,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck in a tight embrace. She smelled like a toxic mix of perfume and alcohol. As she began to sway, Ryan feared that she would fall and so sat her down on the bed. She grabbed his wrist and made him sit next to her. “Listen,” she said, “I gotta tell ya somethin’, but…it’s a secret.”
Ryan was growing uncomfortable. This is not what he had envisioned at all. In fact, he was quickly thinking of a way out of the situation. He didn’t want it to be like this. “O…ok…” he stuttered, stalling for time.
She leaned forward and whispered in his ear, with rancid beer-breath that made his nostrils involuntarily curl up in disgust. “I…..LOVE….you!” she managed to breathe out, right before puking all over his shoulder and leg. “Oh, oh God I’m sorry…” she stammered as Ryan jumped up.
After he cleaned himself up and washed off Jess’ face for her, rather kind of him if you think about it, she looked up at him. “Didn’t you want to talk about something?” she asked.
And so, Ryan headed home, flower-less, love-less, and covered with puke. Henceforth, he will never be Romeo.

Romeo and Juliet...what would have happened

2007-03-30T03:31:51Z

I'm reading this tomorrow at the Blue Frog, but it needs a little bit of editing. Any help would be great! Also, I need a title, as the one I have now is annoying me.

He stood in the bathroom, alone, his slumped body supported by hands gripping the cold sink. He stared into the vanity mirror, directly into his own reflection’s eyes, just as he’d seen in countless teen movies. He stood there for a while without moving, just, staring.

Finally, he turned into his bedroom and sat down at his computer, tossing his favorite play, “Romeo and Juliet”, onto his bed and out of his way. Logging onto AIM, he immediately saw that she was on. His cursor hovered over her screen name as he pondered his next move before settling on a simple and non-invasive “Hey Jess,” sent across the internet thanks to a double-click and a series of keystrokes.

“Hey Ryan!” she replied, quite quickly too he was happy to note.

What now? Again, he played safe. “How are you?”

“Great! You?”

“I’m good.”

“That’s good.” Quite a pause there, uh-oh. Suck it up, Ryan, you can do this.

“Hey, listen, can I come over? I kinda wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Yeah! Come on over!”

This was it! Excited, Ryan logged off of AIM, threw on a jacket, grabbed his keys, and headed out of his apartment towards Jess’. As he walked, he rehearsed his speech in his head, just as he had for the past six months. He imagined himself as Freddy Prinze Jr. in that chick flick, She’s All That, or hell, even as Romeo. He thought that he should be nervous, but, just the thought of being able to speak with her brought joy to his heart.

After a short walk of three blocks, Ryan began to approach Jess’ apartment, where he could hear lots of noise. Was she having a party? As he drew closer all doubts faded. Music was blaring, people were shouting, and the smell of beer hung like sulfur in the air. He considered for only a moment retreating back to his place, but would Freddy have done that? Would Romeo? I think not. And so Ryan marched bravely on, squeezing past the intoxicated undergrads strewn about the porch until he finally reached the door. There wasn’t any point in knocking, he figured, since nobody would be able to hear it anyway, and so, he forced his way in.

The party scene he had imagined was nothing compared to the reality. For a split second, he lamented about ever finding Jess in such a crowd, but he soon spotted her, scantily clad and dancing provocatively on her dining table, surrounded by a horde of hungry guys.

Pushing his way through the masses, Ryan made it to the table, and before he could try to get her safely down, she spotted him.

“RYAN!” she screeched out, tottering as she balanced on high heels, while on a table three feet off the ground mind you. She made a sudden leap for him, and luckily for her he was sober and caught her. The boys around the table looked disappointed. “Let’s go TALK!” she yelled, partly from intoxication and partly to be heard over the noise. Gaining her feet, she grabbed Ryan’s wrist and dragged him towards her room. Even after shutting the door, the noise was incredible. “I’m SO glad you’re here,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck in a tight embrace. She smelled like a toxic mix of perfume and alcohol. As she began to sway, Ryan feared that she would fall and so sat her down on the bed. She grabbed his wrist and made him sit next to her. “Listen,” she said, “I gotta tell ya somethin’, but…it’s a secret.”

Ryan was growing uncomfortable. This is not what he had envisioned at all. In fact, he was quickly thinking of a way out of the situation. He didn’t want it to be like this. “O…ok…” he stuttered, stalling for time.

She leaned forward and whispered in his ear, with rancid beer-breath that made his nostrils involuntarily curl up in disgust. “I…..LOVE….you!” she managed to breathe out, right before puking all over his shoulder and leg. “Oh, oh God I’m sorry…” she stammered as Ryan jumped up.

After he cleaned himself up and washed off Jess’ face for her, she looked up at him. “Didn’t you want to talk about something?” she asked.

“It was nothing,” he replied.

As soon as he got home, Romeo and Juliet went in the garbage.

Elysium: Finished Draft!

2007-02-24T19:10:12Z

My story was one of the few to be definitely accepted. We edited it a little more, and here's the final version. I'm very pleased with it and it's getting published, wooh!

Elysium

She sat facing west on her porch, five steps above the cool grass, her bare feet resting on the fourth stair. Clothed in simple jeans and a plain white tee shirt, the woman was leaning forward, resting her elbows on her knees as her hands clasped a half-full mug of coffee. The aroma rising from the mug teased the woman's nostrils. She closed her eyes and raised her chin slightly, breathing in the comforting scent as a cool breeze caressed her hair. Bringing the mug to her lips, she allowed the warmth of the liquid to swirl about her taste buds before sliding down into her stomach. Upon opening her eyes, the woman watched as the sun slowly began its traditional descent behind the hill. The hues of the sky, purple, orange, red, and blue, complimented those of the autumnal leaves canvassing the hillside. The sun was radiating these beautiful colors as a last claim to memory before it slid below the horizon. The woman considered the grandeur from both sun and leaf when their ends were so near at hand. Swiftly, a breeze snatched a scarlet leaf from its branch, swirling it off beyond the woman’s sight. As the sun sank, the sky gradually gave way to dusk, and the illuminated hillside, too, receded into shadow. Looking up at the dark blue sky, she could faintly make out the stars of Orion gleaming near the moon. Smiling slightly, she recalled the myth surrounding the constellation. Artemis, Goddess of the Moon, had fallen in love with Orion, a hunter. Apollo, brother of Artemis and God of the Sun, in disapproval of the relationship, tricked her into killing him. Artemis, devastated at what she had done, placed Orion in the heavens with her for all eternity.

Her coffee mug now empty and the land committed to night, the woman stood up on her porch, five steps above the ground, turned east, and retired into her home to await the sunrise.

Prometheus

2007-02-13T06:21:51Z

Another story! This one is influenced quite highly by Johnathan Rice's beautiful song "City On Fire".
No love
No love
Stop right where you are
There's no use pretending
There's nothing left to see below
Love below
Love our little window
There's the sound of shouting explosions in the street

So sleep well tonight my dear
Sleep sound shut out the noise you hear
You know it gets harder with each passing year

No love
No love
Stop right where you are
There's no use pretending
There's nothing left to see

Sleep well tonight my dear
Sleep sound shut out the noise you hear
You know it gets harder with each passing year

City in love
City on fire
City in love
City on fire
I awoke to find the city on fire

You should really hear the song to get the full effect though. If you have itunes I can send it to you, just IM me. So here's the story, first draft so yeah, needs some editing. Let me know what you think :-). Also, I need a title. I don't want to call it "City on Fire", and I want it to have something to do with "Prometheus". Let me know if you guys come up with anything!

“I wish we could just burn down this place,” she had said with disgust, frowning out their little window. Her arms had been folded across her chest as she peered down at the city sprawled over the valley below. He had come up behind her, to follow her gaze down the hillside. They lived in one of the many overpriced and under-kept apartments on Promethean Square, with one singular window overlooking the dilapidated city below in the Caucasus Valley. She turned to face him. “It gets harder every year, Ardyn. I don‘t think I can do this anymore.” He looked into her eyes and saw a dejection that was never present before. Drawing her into his arms, he held her and caressed her hair. “I know, love.” He could offer no more comfort than that. He knew she was tired, they both were. A look of determination slowly ignited within his eyes as he gazed down upon the skyscrapers and defiled buildings. He knew what he had to do, for Bridget’s sake. For his sake.

It was night when he returned. He found Bridget in her pajamas with several bags at her slipper-clad feet, pulling a coat on. The look of accomplishment he entered with did not fade at the sight. Bridget glanced up as he entered before fastening her coat and hefting her bags up in a series of hasty motions. “I can’t do this anymore, Ardyn,” she whispered, staring at his feet while she spoke. “This place…the noise….it’s worse than ever before. I haven‘t slept right in months” Ardyn’s complacent smile spread. “Come,” he replied quietly, moving past her towards the shuttered window. The noise was incredible, he noted. “I don’t have time for this,” mumbled Bridget, fumbling with her bags before stepping towards the doorway. “No, love, stop where you are.” Bridget turned to look at Ardyn. His voice sounded different. She peered at him for long moments. “What is that smell on you?” she asked. Ardyn only smiled as he stood by the window. He extended his arm out, offering his hand to Bridget. “We’ll sleep well tonight, my dear.” Bridget didn’t move. “Don’t pretend there’s nothing left to see here, love.” Ardyn’s smile was now gone, replaced by a look of resolute composure. With an apprehensive glance, Bridget lowered her bags onto the floor and reached out her hand to take Ardyn’s, allowing him to draw her towards the window. As she stepped towards the shutters, she could hear what sounded like an explosion from far away. “Close your eyes, love” said Ardyn in a hushed tone. Bridget obeyed, attempting to place the chaotic noises now beginning to infiltrate her conscious. She could feel Ardyn open the shutters before he moved to her side to again take her hand in both of his. “Now, open them,” he whispered.

A blanket of orange flames shrouded the valley. Explosions and screams could be heard rising from the streets as the flames overtook building after building. The red flashing lights of the fire trucks were only concealed by the immense flames licking along the outer edges of the city. Suddenly, from the center of the city, came an enormous explosion, casting debris hundreds of feet into the air as the sky momentarily took on an orange discoloration. “We’ll sleep well tonight, my dear” repeated Ardyn, smiling once more. Bridget watched the city burn with an open-mouthed expression before turning to Ardyn and kissing him with a heretofore unknown ardour.

Elysium Revised

2007-02-05T05:53:17Z

Thanks to Daron's suggestions, I tweaked the story a little bit and added an addition about the constellation Orion. I also just submitted it to Transition, so, hopefully it'll make it in :-).

Elysium

She sat facing west on her porch, five steps above the cool grass, her bare feet resting on the fourth stair. Clothed in simple jeans and a plain white tee-shirt, the woman was leaning forward, resting her elbows on her knees as her hands clasped a half-full mug of coffee. The aroma rising from the mug teased the woman's nostrils. She closed her eyes and raised her chin slightly, breathing in the comforting scent as a cool breeze caressed her hair. Bringing the mug to her lips, she allowed the warm liquid to flow into her mouth, permitting it to swirl about her taste buds before sliding down her throat to heat her stomach. Upon opening her eyes, the woman watched as the sun slowly began its traditional descent behind the hill. The hues of the sky, purple, orange, red, and blue, complimented those of the autumnal leaves canvassing the hillside. It appeared as if the sun was radiating these beautiful colors as a last claim to memory before it slid below the horizon. The woman considered the oddity of such grandeur from both sun and leaf when their ends were so near at hand. A scarlet leaf detached itself from its branch, became caught in the wind, and gradually swirled off beyond the woman’s sight. As the sun sank, the sky gradually gave way to dusk as the illuminated hillside, too, receded into shadow. Looking up at the dark blue sky, she could just begin making out the stars of Orion gleaming near the moon. Smiling slightly, she recalled the myth surrounding the constellation. Artemis, Goddess of the Moon, had fallen in love with Orion, a hunter. Apollo, brother of Artemis and God of the Sun, disapproved of such a relationship, and tricked her into killing him. Artemis, devastated at what she had done, placed Orion in the heavens with her for all eternity.

Her coffee mug now empty and the land committed to night, the woman stood up on her porch, five steps above the ground, turned east, and retired into her home to await the sunrise.

Elysium

2007-02-01T06:46:50Z

This one I wrote with the intention of submitting it to Transition, the literary magazine. This is the extremely rough draft as I just finished it 2 minutes ago and I wrote it in half an hour, so obviously it needs some editing but I wanted to put it up here and get any suggestions I could from people. Also, I'm not going to give you the meaning right now, so if you read it please reply and let me know what you think the meaning is, I want to know what I need to alter to make the meaning clear. Thanks!

Elysium

She sat on her porch, five steps from the cool grass. Clothed in simple jeans and a plain white tee-shirt, the woman was leaning forward, resting her elbows on her knees as her hands clutched a half-full mug of coffee. The aroma rising from the mug teased the woman's nostrils. She closed her eyes and raised her chin slightly, breathing in the comforting scent as a cool breeze caressed her hair. Her feet, supported by the fourth stair, pointed straight towards the falling sun. Upon opening her eyes, the woman watched as the fiery orb slowly began its descent behind the hill. The hues of the sky, purple, orange, red, and blue, complimented those of the autumnal leaves canvassing the hillside. It appeared as if the sun was radiating these beautiful colors as a last claim to memory before it slid below the horizon. The woman considered the oddity of such grandeur from both sun and leaf when their ends were so near at hand. As the sun sank, the sky gradually gave way to dusk as the illuminated hillside too receded into shadow.

Her coffee mug empty and the land committed to night, the woman stood the full five steps above the ground and retired into her home to await the sunrise.

The Hunt Rekindled!

2006-11-28T04:01:00Z

I edited the short story, The Hunt, that I wrote a few months ago. The ending is a lot different and more....sophisticated? The original I loved because it cracked me up and I had a grand time writing it, but no on really got it. Honestly, I didn't even get it. But, I have to present this tomorrow, so I wanted it to mean something. I took a good hard look at it, and against Aaron's judgments, decided to take most of the humour out. I still laugh at some parts, but it's not as blatantly funny as the original was. I think overall I like this version much better because it has an actual meaning and frankly, I'm just proud of it. Anyway, enjoy, and please comment, because I'm thinking of submitting this to the college literary magazine.

Evening fell across the placid forest and still fields beyond. The palette of twilight stretched across the darkening sky in hues of blue and red and gray as a final fanfare for the drowning sun. Entwined leaves reflected the orange glow, barring the light from the underbrush, refusing the sun. The last rays of light slipped below the horizon, plunging the world into obscurity. That’s when he awoke.

Eyes glowing as the dawn, he rose from the coarse nest of grass as would a creature of the netherworld. He sat, rigidly, listening to the restless whispers of the night and watching as the darkness enveloped the cave which he had turned into his shelter. A breeze twirled itself around the tree trunks, gently disquieting the sparse layer of fallen leaves to distribute them along the mouth of the cave. He sat, waiting…

Suddenly, all noise withered. As if possessed by some otherworldly being, the man leapt naked from the grass and moved swiftly to the mouth of the cave. There he stood, illuminated by the moonlight and casting a long faint shadow back onto the cave rock, a black silhouette against a blacker night. Moonlight reflected from the man’s shining eyes, but could not penetrate his thick layers of hair. There were no stars, only the faint glow of the moon that tried in vain to chase away the shadows of the night. The man stood still in the mouth of the cave, becoming intoxicated with the vehement atmosphere. That’s when they came.

Out of the shadows crept dozens upon dozens of unclad humans, men and women, flocking to the clearing surrounding the cave which rested in the center of a long-forgotten wood. All had long unkempt hair, with vicious scars running the lengths of their bodies and eyes that penetrated the dark with their brightness. Without a sound, the squalid humans bowed low in front of the man, who remained standing in the cave’s entrance, watching the gathering with rabid delight. As more emerged from the shadows, the man lifted his face to the sky and closed his eyelids, breathing in the air through his nostrils. The flow of humans slowly came to an end, as nearly a hundred humans bent before the man. Finally, after many painstaking minutes, his eyes slid open in a state of ecstasy. The clearing erupted with a clamoring of screams and riotous cheers as the pack of humans went wild. Leaping from their docile positions, the humans began howling and tearing at each other with long, sharp nails and snapping teeth under the anticipation of the night ahead.

Without warning, the man took off at a run into the forest, his enormous pack following behind. The moonlight, bated upon the dense forest canopy, became ensnared upon the leaves and rarely completed its journey to the ground; however the Wilds did not need the light. They could smell their destination.

Eyes flashing, the humans traversed through the shadowy forest at incredible speeds. Howling, play-biting, and snarling, the Wilds dodged about tree trunks, low limbs, fallen logs, and large stones, hurtling their way towards their destination. Silence fell as they approached. The low wooden fence was in sight, and within it, domestic humans. The Wilds slowed as they neared, looking upon the fence with disdain and hatred. Advancing towards the barrier, many of the Wilds clawed and kicked at the fence, remembering the slave labor that had erected the enclosure. The leader, especially, tore furiously at the wooden structure, any gleam of ecstasy previously seen in his eyes now converted to pure rage. Within the fence itself they could see the physical and mental abuse given to them by their cruel masters, and they had long vowed to put an end to their reign. There was a time, they remembered, long ago, when they were the rulers. A vague memory of long hours of work swept among the Wilds as they strained to remember how they had fallen from grace. Humans, once the rulers of the world, became so entranced with the dull life of work that the current rulers had little difficulty overthrowing them.

The leader motioned to his pack. One by one the Wilds leapt soundlessly over the barrier in order to encircle their prey. The darkness of the night sky was beginning to wane as dawn approached.

The Domestics stood grouped together in the center of the paddock, surrounding a small fire, grazing upon the dewy grass. The fire emitted warmth and light, which glinted off the Domestics’ bald scalps, giving the impression of distorted halos. To the side lay several piles of wood, carefully crafted pieces that were ready to be used for building. Further down rested a dilapidated farmhouse in desperate need of repair. The Wilds crept undetected towards the huddled mass and tightened their circle to prevent any escape. Suddenly, a Domestic that was slightly apart from the main group noticed the approaching danger and let out a shrill scream. Two Wilds were on her immediately as the rest sprang into the mass of Domestics. Chaos ensued. Howls and screams echoed against the dense forest, bites and kicks were inflicted upon both sides. Suddenly, the Wild Leader broke into the center of the Domestics and pulled three burning brands from the fire. Holding the sticks in front of him to stave off any attack, he rushed towards the wood piles. Thrusting the burning torches deep within the hearts of the piles, he coaxed the fire to catch quickly upon the dry tinder. Satisfied, the leader turned to survey the battle. He did not wish to kill any of the Domestics, however, he knew that they could have escaped over the fence had they any inclination. They wanted to be kept as slaves. He could not allow them to lend their skills to their owners. Leaping into the mass, the Wild Leader tore out a Domestic’s throat with his teeth. Domestic bodies littered the ground as the Wilds continued their massacre.

Suddenly, a group of sheep stumbled out from the farmhouse, clad in tunics made of human hair. Arming themselves with stones, they came running fearlessly into the fray, thinking of nothing except the protection of their domesticated humans. Once within range, the sheep began heaving the stones into the Wilds, bleating hysterically in the hopes of chasing them off.

Grenade-like-stones crashed into the Wilds, injuring many. Angered, the Wilds turned their sights from the defenseless Domestics to the sheep owners, their embodiment of evil. Just as the Wilds began to descend upon the sheep, a rooster who had been resting by the farmhouse door awoke instinctively. The sky was brightening. Straightening up, the rooster aimed his beak towards the sky and let out a booming crow.

Howling in pain, the Wilds fell over upon themselves. Having been caught up in their mission, they had lost track of time. The rooster’s crow proved deafening and disastrous. Many Wilds clasped their hands over their ears and knelt down on the ground, screaming in agony. Gritting his teeth in pain and frustration, the leader pushed the Wilds within reach back towards the forest, remaining behind until every last Wild safely returned to the confines of the shadows. The sheep chased after them to the fence, hurling stones all the while.

The sun began to rise. The darkness was pushed into the forest as the light reclaimed the sky. It was a new day, and the Wilds wouldn’t be back for many more nights. Waddling about the paddock, a few of the sheep owners began looking after the injured Domestics while the rest turned their rocks upon the uninjured ones in order to spur them to work. Slowly, the Domestics began collecting wood and creating new piles.

The Wild Leader watched the scene from the shadows of the forest. Any burning ecstasy or hatred was gone now from his eyes as he passively viewed the Domestics continuing the work of the sheep. A dull sadness clouded over his vision as he slowly turned into the depths of the protective canopy.

Country Story parts 5-8

2006-11-21T16:32:57Z

Please comment!

(I recently discovered a mistake I had made -- this story is meant to have taken place in the 1950s, and the television shows and commercials listed a few weeks back are from the ’90s. Also, “Lucy Raises Tulips” is an episode in which there is a flower contest where wax flowers, having replaced the real ones, become melted in the sun.)
Although I was still very angry with Ellen, the bee had somehow connected us. I felt like the flower in the front yard, as silly as that would sound, and was proud of myself for not letting the bee scare me away. Despite our brief bond, however, Ellen remained silent for the rest of the meal. Feeling like I had already allowed her to win by smiling back at her, I decided to not strike up any sort of conversation with her.

After dinner, Ellen and the adults cleaned the table while I migrated to the living room and sat in front of the TV. Ellen came out a short while later and giggled. “It’s not on, you know.”

“I know,” I said simply.

Ellen shrugged and sat next to me, peering into the black box. “Is that what you do in the city?” she asked after a moment.

I continued to sit in silence. Eventually, our parents came out from the kitchen and sat in the chairs facing the television. “Time for some TV!” my Aunt announced. I wondered just how much TV they watched in this house if it was such a big deal for them. I also hoped that my TV time wouldn’t be cut down when they came to live with us.

Our parents were very excited as this episode, entitled “Lucy Raises Tulips”, was the latest of the show “I Love Lucy”. I didn’t like the ending, but Ellen laughed and laughed.

I was hoping we could watch more TV but Aunt Kathy turned it off. Without a word, Ellen got up and went outside. I continued to sit in front of the TV and imagined myself to be watching an action movie.

“Why don’t you go outside and play with Ellen?” my mother asked from behind me.

“She’s mean,” I replied without turning around.

“Oh, you just have to get to know her is all. I’m sure she’ll be excited to learn about the city, why don’t you go tell her all about that?”

“She just likes to look at flowers and listen to birds,” I said. Finally, I turned around. “You know, I don’t think she’s going to like the city very much.”

My Aunt looked at me with sad eyes but didn’t say anything.

“What makes you say that, dear?” asked my mother.

I thought for a moment before responding. “Well, the city’s a lot louder than the country is. Also, there’s all this nature out here that she seems to like so much. I don’t think she’ll like all the buildings everywhere.”

My mother nodded. “Well, it definitely will be a change, but I’m sure she’ll do fine. Why don’t you go outside? The fireflies should be out soon.”

“Fireflies?” I asked.

“Yes, go see!”

Imagining flies that had burst into flames, I jumped up in excitement and tore outside. I could see Ellen in the dimness cupping her hands around small flashing bulbs of light and wandered over to her. “Where are these flaming bugs?” I asked.

She looked at me curiously before showing me her cupped hands. Inside was the tiniest insect whose butt lit up occasionally. “What, no fire?” I asked, disappointed. “My mom said there were fireflies out here.” Ellen just looked at me before gently tossing the bug into the air and watching it fly away.

A small flash of light near my eyes caught my attention and I quickly clapped my hands around it. When I opened them, I could see bug-smear all along my palms along with a glowing material. “Hey, look at me, I’m glowing!” I shouted as I extended my palms towards Ellen. She looked at me with the same sad eyes her mother had just peered at me with. Ignoring this, I began to have great fun catching the bugs and rubbing them against my skin. The darker the sky got, the brighter I glowed, until all I could see was streaks of green on my skin with the flicker of bug-lights around us.

“I hope you enjoyed yourself,” said Ellen who was sitting on the ground. “You just killed a lot of poor bugs.”

Feeling slightly ashamed, I tried to show Ellen the coolness of the situation. “But look, I’m glowing!”

Unamused, Ellen lay back in the grass and stared at the sky. “No,” she said. “The sky is glowing.” Confused, I turned my head upwards as well.

I felt my jaw drop as I stood in amazement. Never before had I seen such a spectacular sight. Little prickles of light stretched from horizon to horizon, covering the sky in a sort of blanket. It was as if the world had changed. The night was supposed to be black and scary, not light and beautiful. The moon, also, shone brightly in the sky, smiling down upon us. Although the lights reminded me of the city at night, I began to feel as if those lights were but a cheap imitation to the splendor of these. There, the lights made me feel larger than life. Here, I felt smaller than a pebble. The wind gently blew against me and I could smell the sweetness of the night air. Suddenly, the science courses kicked in and I realized that these stars were billions of miles away and the light shining down on us now was given by some of the stars hundreds and hundreds of years ago. Adding to that was the knowledge that some of these stars were as large as our sun, I even thought I remembered my teacher saying that some could be entire galaxies. “Wow,” I breathed. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“You don’t have stars in the city?” asked Ellen quietly. I could only shake my head, entranced by the sky. “How sad…” she whispered. I barely heard her, but at that moment I felt more connected to her than I ever had before. Without removing my gaze, I laid down beside Ellen and we stared silently at the wonder of the night. I felt as if the stars were eyes, gazing back down upon us, though I was not afraid. Rather, I was comforted by their presence and beauty. Without knowing why, I felt a tear well up in my eye before tracing a course down my temple.

Hearing a soft noise from Ellen, I glanced over at her. She was crying. “What’s wrong?” I asked, surprised at myself for caring after the day’s events.

“After tomorrow, I’ll never see the stars again,” she whispered.

“I’m sure you’ll come back to the country some day.”

Ellen lay in silence for a long while and I didn’t think she would respond. “No,” she said with a hint of resignation. “No, I’ll never see the stars again.”

As we lay there in silence, peering up at the vast complexity of the night sky, a sudden brightness caught my eye. Flashing across the sky streaked a trail of light, the sudden magnificence of which made me gasp out loud.

“It’s a shooting star,” said Ellen softly. “You’re supposed to make a wish.”

I looked over at Ellen to see that she had closed her eyes, presumably to clearly envision her wish. I closed mine, as well, and searched for something to wish for. All that came before me was the vision of Ellen crying. Before I could stop myself, I found myself wishing that Ellen would be able to see the stars again after we took her to the city. I opened my eyes again to see the trail of light fading into darkness.

“That was so quick!” I said in regret. Ellen remained silent.

Even now I remember that shooting star. How quickly it had flashed into my life and then faded out, how swift its own life compared to mine, and yet such an impact it had on me! If, after all these years, one could remember such a seemingly simple thing. And yet how extraordinary it was, how magnificent the night. It occurs to me now that we are all but shooting stars, flying in and out of this world in a myriad of flashes. It was at that moment that I realized how small and insignificant the world, and indeed us as individuals, truly was. It was at precisely that moment I realized why Ellen did not want to go to the city. I began to join with her and feel at peace with the soft grass and comforting sky. I found myself unwilling to return inside.

Later that night, as I lay on the cot that my Aunt had set up for me in Ellen’s bedroom, I found myself staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars Ellen had put on her ceiling. They were, in fact, the same that I had in my room back in the city, yet now they seemed so different. There was even one that mimicked a shooting star. I found myself growing angry at this cruel mockery. The artificial green glow was just an insult to the glorious wonder of the real nighttime sky.

I rolled over onto my side in a vain attempt to ignore the green glow and stared into the darkness. I felt myself on the precipice of some great understanding, yet I could not look over the side. Instead, I fell into a deep sleep.

The following morning, I was awakened by the smell of breakfast wafting in through the cracked door. Ellen was not there. Yawning and stretching, I trundled out to the dining room. My mother and Aunt were laughing together in the kitchen while Ellen sat silently at the table, digging her fork into the eggs, staring off into space.

“Morning!” I crowed. The adults smiled warmly at me from the kitchen but Ellen did not look up, even when I sat down noisily across from her.

“Here’s some breakfast!” said my mother as she set a plate of eggs, pancakes, and bacon before me. Without a second thought, I dug into the food with a wolfish appetite.

“So what’re we gonna do in cow-town today?” I asked, smirking. I knew that was something Ellen would react to.

Ellen answered my smirk with a glare before turning her attention to her own breakfast. My grin faded as I, too, turned my eyes to my plate.

Our parents joined us, relieving some of the awkward tension that stretched between Ellen and myself. “Why don’t you two go for a walk today?” my aunt suggested. “It will give us a chance for packing.” I glanced at Ellen to see that she was nodding her head slowly without raising her eyes. Feeling bad for Ellen, I spoke up. “Yeah, let’s go for a walk!” I said enthusiastically. Ellen looked up at me with a slight smile.

Breakfast continued with idle chatter from the adults, who were talking about someone coming to the house later in the day. Ellen and I finished our breakfast quickly without paying much attention to our mothers. Finally we headed outside.

“Where to?” I looked around the back yard. “The tree fort?” I asked hopefully.

“No,” said Ellen, shaking her head. She was standing in front of me near the tree line and staring intently into the woods. The morning sun shining behind us illuminated her hair and gave her the look of a tree spirit. “No,” she repeated. “There.” She rose her arm and pointed her finger. Above us loomed what I had originally presumed to be a mountain but had been told that it was but a hill by my mother. The hill was covered with dense forest save the ridge at the very top, which remained bald as an old man. “We’re going there,” she said commandingly before lowering her arm. Ellen again stared intently before pushing her way into the forest.

Without a second thought, I crashed into the underbrush after Ellen. She was moving quickly, so I rushed to keep up. “Ellen!” I called. “Wait up!” She halted where she was without looking back at me. Finally, I caught up to her, doubled over and breathing hard. She remained still. When I caught my breath I straightened and looked behind us. I was stunned. The trees, grown so closely together, coupled with the leafy bushes and branches, shrouded the house from view. Unlike in the tree fort, where a tunnel of light led back to the yard, here in the forest I found myself secluded in the overwhelming encompass of nature. It had been a bright sunny day, but now the sky was a mesh of green and brown, with rays of sunlight filtering through to illuminate the ground in certain places, including where we now stood. Occasionally a bird would begin singing in the foliage above, giving the area an uplifting feel. The tree trunks rose up about us like the buildings in the city, only with a serene sentinel quality that the buildings did not have.

I looked at Ellen to find her eyes penetrating mine with a wild look I had not seen before. “Come on” she said, and stepped off quickly further into the forest.

I followed along after her, remarking at how she walked so quietly with ease, while I myself felt that I blundered along behind. Every leaf and twig I stepped on cracked with an insufferable sound that made me wince. Ellen, however, led on stoically, with the air of one who needed to reach a destination. Brambles reached out and scratched at my legs, forcing me to push for every step, as if the undergrowth was attempting to create a barrier that I would be unable to break through. Although I wanted to go back to the house, Ellen walked with such certainty that I couldn’t help but follow her. Eventually a persistant low undertone reached my ears. “What is that?” I asked, untangling myself from a thicket I had managed to walk straight into.

“Aistrigh Creek” she replied without turning her head.

I tried to wrap my head around the name of the creek and found myself unable to do so, but I was reluctant to ask Ellen any more questions as she seemed intently focused on the view ahead. As we continued walking, the noise grew into a quiet murmur.

Finally, we reached the bank of a swift-moving creek. The ground sloped down sharply towards the water and became increasingly muddy the further down one looked.

“Come on!” I looked down and saw Ellen at the edge of the water, looking back at me with a gleam in her eyes. “We have to cross here.”

“Why do we have to cross at all?” I muttered as I cautiously began to make my way down the slippery bank.

“Because this is how we get to the top,” she replied matter-of-factly.

I managed to make it down the bank without falling and, standing beside Ellen, I looked at the water. It wasn’t deep, but it wasn’t shallow, and the swiftness of the current unnerved me. “This way,” said Ellen, heading towards a broken line of rocks that led from one bank to the other. The rocks barely reached above the surface of the water. “I…I don’t know,” I replied. “It doesn’t look very safe…”

“Oh, don’t be a scaredy-cat, I do it all the time” she bragged as she deftly hopped from one rock to the next before turning expectantly towards me in mid-stream.

Gingerly, I placed one foot on the first rock, ensuring its stability before releasing my weight from the good solid ground. Looking ahead, I realized most of the rocks, except the one Ellen now stood on, were big enough for only one foot. Ellen remained silent and continued to watch me, as if I were a circus performer for her entertainment. Ever so gently, I swung my other leg and repeated the process. After making it past three rocks I found myself feeling rather accomplished. The country girl didn’t think I’d be able to do it, yet here I was crossing as well as her. I looked up to grin at Ellen and show her I wasn’t afraid. As I did so, I allowed my left foot to fall firmly on the next stone and released all weight off of my other leg. Before I knew what was happening, I felt my left foot slide off of the stone and suddenly I was immersed in freezing water.

Country Story Parts 1-4

2006-10-16T04:52:09Z

It’s strange how the place where we grew up has such an impact on our lives later on. It’s also odd to see how someone with a completely different set of experiences reacts to a place we feel so comfortable in. As for me, I prefer the country life. I didn’t grow up in the country, in fact I didn’t move out of New York City until I turned 25, yet I feel more comfortable in the country than I ever will again in the City. Even now during the final years of my life I remember my first trip into the country, and how a girl named Ellen changed my life forever.

I was 9 going on 10 that spring and was a city-boy through and through. I had never been, nor wanted to go, outside of the City. The hard concrete and tall commanding buildings were as comforting to me as a teddy bear is to a small child. My mother and I lived alone in a small apartment, and though we were not wealthy, we were happy with each other. My mother had a mediocre job and I had mediocre grades; it was a mediocre life. That spring, my mother received a phone call from her sister who had just lost her job and would need to stay with us and get a job in the City. My mother, being a courteous woman, had no objections to the arrangement. She planned for us to stay with her sister for a few days while her affairs were set in order, and then drive them back home with us. “It will give us a nice break from the City” she asserted against my protests. My Aunt Kathy lived in a small farming town in Upstate New York with my cousin Ellen, and I had no intentions of going to what my friends called “hickville”.

“But mom, they’ll all have banjos and go cow-tipping and chew tobacco and be poor and ugly and dirty!” I wailed.

“That’s nonsense,” she replied. “You’ll have fun. Besides, you can play with your cousin Ellen.”

I crossed my arms defiantly. “I don’t want to play with no inbred red-neck girl!” I muttered.

Despite my most earnest of arguments, including how we would be shot because everyone in the country has shotguns and is scared of new people, my mother would not allow me to thwart her attempts to help her sister. I refused to go along quietly. “But Jimmy and I were gonna go to the movies!” I cried as I threw my bags into the car.

“You can go next week with Jimmy and Ellen,” my mother responded while calmly placing my tossed luggage into neat piles in the backseats. Her calmness angered me even more.

“I hate this, I don’t want to go, why can’t I stay here?” I begged.

My mother sighed. “Look, honey, if you come along and behave I’ll buy you a new skateboard when we get back. Would you like that?”

I stopped talking and thought for a minute. “Fine,” I said after a while. “But only if it’s a Zoo York!”

Another sigh. “Alright, a Zoo York then. Come on, let’s finish packing.”

It was a gray dawn the morning we left. The fog encroached upon the City like some somber predator, encircling the buildings and smothering the roads in its denseness. It pressed its muzzle against the windows, straining to get inside the car to envelop my mother and me. Dark shapes moved in the fog and loomed about the slow-moving traffic. Had I not been so terrified I would have tried to get some sleep; however, the fog-shapes began to invade my unconscious and startled me awake whenever I began to drift off. I brought my legs up and tried to get comfortable, although the seatbelt was very confining. Even though my mother was with me I felt very alone. She left the radio off for both our benefits; so she could concentrate on her driving and so I could sleep, though the silence became as pressing as the fog. Finally I allowed my head to fall against the pillow I had propped against the window. I closed my eyes, trying to imagine that I was back in my 3rd story apartment with the noises of early-morning traffic drifting in through the apartment window to sooth me into sleep.

A bright light fell across my face. I opened my eyes to a clear blue sky and immediately shut them again. Shielding my eyes against the light I sat up and stretched, yawning. “Good morning, sleepy head!” said my mother from the driver’s seat. “You’ve been asleep nearly 2 hours. We should be to Aunt Kathy’s in another hour or so.”

“Good,” I grumbled, determined to be miserable the whole trip. At least I’d be getting a Zoo York when we got back.

A series of shadows fell across the car followed by shafts of light. I looked out the window to see passing trees all settled stoically alongside the road as if they were built there. “Mom!” I yelled. “Where are all the buildings??”

My mother laughed. “We’re in a forest, honey, there aren’t too many buildings out here.”

I gaped in amazement as we passed tree after tree on the curvy roadway that seemed to go forever upwards. “Where does everyone live?”

“Well, most people live in or around the towns. Occasionally you’ll see a nice little cottage out here in the woods.

“Why would you want to live in the woods?” I asked, as I stuck my tongue out at the thought.

My mother laughed again. “To get away from little nuisances like you!”

I didn’t laugh. Instead, I turned the radio on and was pleasantly surprised that not every station was Country. After a few minutes of flipping through static and the occasional clear channel, I settled on a heavy rock station. “Are we there yet?” I asked grumpily.

“Not yet,” said my mother. “Soon. Enjoy the landscapes!”

I looked out the window at the trees. Through the gaps I could see miles of hills pushing against the far horizon. “What’s to enjoy?” I asked.

We drove out of the hills and into a valley. Suddenly, a stench like none I had ever smelled before hit me like a bag of bricks. “Oh! What is that??” I yelped as I covered my nose with my hands.

“It’s manure,” explained my mother matter-of-factly. “Farms use it to help their crops grow.”

“Ugh, well it stinks.”

My mother continued to smile.

“What are those?” I asked, as we passed a field where stood many large creatures grazing upon the grass.

“Those are cows,” replied my mother. “Farmers get milk and beef from them.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling more stupid every second.

Finally, we pulled into my aunt’s driveway. The driveway consisted of small pebbles rather than pavement with small weeds pushing themselves up between the stones. I felt like one of those weeds -- solitary and distinct in a place I clearly did not belong. At the end of the short driveway was a dilapidated green and white garage which complimented the green and white one story double-wide trailer that was placed next to the driveway. Although the house looked decent enough it was clear that it had some years beneath its foundation.

My aunt and cousin stepped out of the house to greet us as we clambered out of the car to stretch. Aunt Kathy hugged my mother affectionately, then turned upon me and squeezed until I gasped for breath. She was a plain woman, taller than average and rather bony with cropped curly brown hair and thick glasses. She wore a loose t-shirt over fitted jeans and sneakers which had obviously seen better days. Although I didn’t see many similarities between the two my mother claimed that they were sisters.

My cousin Ellen was my age, and surprisingly pretty compared to her mother. She had soft brown eyes which gleamed intelligently behind cascades of her long wavy brown hair. She, too, wore jeans and sneakers but with a fitted red shirt that had an embroidered butterfly. She wore a flower with white petals and a yellow center in her hair.

I was worried Ellen would want to hug but she only looked at me keenly as she stood behind her mother. I glanced about the yard and couldn’t help but notice the grass and trees. I had no idea what anyone could do with such a wide outdoor space.

“Do you like it?” my Aunt Kathy asked me with a sad sort of smile. I didn’t, really, but I nodded anyway because I thought I should. It was just too simple.

My mother opened the back door of the car and everyone helped in the unloading. Finally, we were able to relax a bit. I marched into the house and headed straight for the living room.

“Where’s the remote?” I called back to Ellen. “You do have a TV, right?”

Ellen didn’t smile. She followed behind me into the room and pointed at the TV. “The remote’s on top of the TV. There’s no reason to be rude, you know. Anyway, don’t you want to go outside for a bit?”

“No,” I replied, as I grabbed the remote before flinging myself contentedly on the couch, flicking through the channels.

Ellen sighed before turning and walking out of the living room. I heard the front door shut and knew she had gone outside. I noticed I seemed to be having that kind of an affect lately. I continued flicking through the channels, looking for anything vaguely interesting.

“Try out our new Bun-Master 3000!”

Click.

“Buy your stack of un-rippable paper today!”

Click.

“Jesus will save you if you accept him into your heart!”

Click.

“So then I said beep you, you beepin’ beep!”

Click.

My mother and aunt entered from the kitchen.

“Don’t you want to go outside and play with Ellen?” asked my aunt.

“No,” I replied as I continued searching.

My mother took the remote out of my hands and turned the TV off.

“I was watching that!” I protested.

“Your aunt and I have to talk. Go play with Ellen,” said my mother. “Don’t forget about our arrangement!”

Right. That Zoo York. I was about to reconsider and trade the Zoo York for the TV until I saw the looks on their. “Alright, fine, I’ll go play with Ellen,” I muttered grumpily.

I stormed outside and slammed the front door behind me. Couldn’t they see that all I wanted to do was watch some TV? Maybe Beavis and Butthead or some other equally educational program.

I spotted my cousin sitting on the lawn surrounded by a group of flowers that were identical to the one in her hair. I walked over and started stomping on the flowers.

“Hey! Don’t do that!” she shouted, glaring up at me.

“Why? They’re just a bunch of dumb flowers,” I responded, continuing to stomp.

Ellen stood up and pushed me to the ground. “Because I said not to!” she commanded. She put her fists on her hips. “Would you like to try that again?”

I looked up at her, dumbfounded. Had a country girl just pushed me onto the ground?

“I didn’t think so,” she said before settling herself back onto the ground.

I sat in silence for a moment before clearing my throat. “Well, what are you doing sitting in a bunch of flowers anyway?”

“Watching the bees,” she stated in that matter-of-fact tone my mother liked to use.

“Bees?” I cried as I jumped up.

She looked up at me, exasperated. “Yes, genius, bees. Where there are flowers, there are bees.”

“I don’t think we should bother them,” I said, trying to sound manly as I backed up slowly.

Ellen laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. They won’t bother you if you don’t bother them. Look,” she said as she bent to peer intently at an individual flower.

I stayed off at a distance for a moment before realizing that Ellen continued to hold her attention on the specific flower. Inching forward, I attempted to stay as far away from it as I could while straining to find whatever Ellen was observing.

“Come down here,” she said bossily without moving her gaze.

Not wanting to look like more of a girl than my girl cousin, I dropped to my hands and knees and cautiously approached Ellen and the flower.

“Right there,” she said. “See him?”

Finally I was right next to Ellen and could see the flower. On it was a small bee. We held our breath as we silently watched the bee rub its legs together in its quest to collect pollen.

“That’s the world,” said Ellen, smiling softly.

We sat motionless and watched the bee collect pollen. I didn’t know what Ellen had meant by saying that was the world, though to me that’s all that mattered then. All thoughts of the Zoo York fled as I watched this insect, previously viewed as a threat, go about its task. We watched silently as the bee flew from a daisy to a lily to continue its work.

A car drove by and I found myself irritated at the interruption. As if also disturbed by the noise, the bee stretched its wings and flew off the flower towards a group of trees nestled on the far edge of the front lawn.

“I told you it wouldn’t bother you,” said Ellen matter-of-factly.

I sneered at her. “That’s ‘cause I scared it off,” I stated.

Ellen grinned. “Sure.” We sat on the ground in silence for a while and I was surprised to find it so pleasing. Eventually, Ellen stood up and brushed herself off. “Come on,” she said, as she headed off towards her back yard. “I’ll show you my tree fort!”

Excitedly, I jumped up and jogged past her. Ellen, grinning, began running and quickly caught up to me. Realizing this, I picked up my pace and we were in an all-out dash towards the forested edge of her back yard. I had a lead on her until I tripped on a rock and landed face first in the dirt.

“Are you alright?” Ellen asked, as she came trotting towards where lay my prone body. Bending over, she offered my her hand.

“Yeah…” I said, feeling my face turn red. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I ignored her hand and got up by myself, looking down at the dirt streaked across my clothes like tread marks on a road.

Realizing I was alright, Ellen started laughing. “Oh man, that was great, you just flew!”

Feeling like an idiot, I smiled slightly to make it look like I was fine with the situation, though my burning cheeks told a different story. Still giggling, Ellen grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the forest.

She led me towards two pine trees which partially jutted out of the border between the yard and the forest. Though the trees stood close together with intertwining boughs, I could see a dark gap that looked like a tunnel into the Metro. I stopped.

“Come on!” said Ellen, pulling on my arm.

“Well…there could be a bear in there,” I said, trying to sound brave.

Ellen laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous, I was in here this morning, there’s no bears.”

“Well…there could be.”

Ellen continued to laugh. “There’s not.” She dropped my arm and proceeded into the darkness alone.

I stood alone in the yard, peering into the darkness and straining my ears for any sound of a bear massacre.

“Are you coming in or not?” Ellen called from the darkness.

“I think I’m just going to go watch TV” I said, turning back to the house.

“Oh, come on, don’t be a chicken!” she called.

Although I was dying to watch MTV’s “Cribs”, I didn’t want Ellen to think I was a chicken either. What would my friends think if I let a country girl call me that?

“I’m not a chicken!” I proclaimed as I stomped fearlessly into the darkness.

Pine needles brushed against my face as I attempted to peer into the blackness. The overpowering scent of tree sap came upon me like car fumes.

“Come over here and sit down and you’ll be able to see in a second,” came Ellen’s voice.

I made my way over to something round and hard that was laid out on the ground. “Puh, this place sucks. I can’t wait to get back to the city” I remarked as I sat down on what I thought to be some kind of cruddy sofa.

“And what’s so great about the city?” Ellen asked.

“Oh, man, we’ve got all different kinds of people and buildings and stores and skate parks, there’s always something to do.”

“There’s always something to do here,” she said simply. I got the feeling she had had this conversation already.

“Well, the city’s full of, I don’t know, a kind of opportunity you don’t have out here. Here it’s all country bumpkins who don’t know anything about the world.”

“And you do just because you live in the city?” she replied scathingly.

Getting the idea that I was treading on sensitive ground, I ended with a “you’ll like it there” which Ellen didn’t reply to.

Finally, my eyes began to adjust and I could see around the enclosed ‘fort’. We were sitting on part of a log, and I could faintly make out Ellen on the other side silently staring down at the ground. All around us hung the boughs of the pine trees like a suspended blanket of needles which concealed us from the outside world. A shaft of light from the opening fell upon the log between the two of us. There wasn’t much to it, really, just the two trees and the log -- and us. Just as I was about to tell Ellen that I was going to go inside to watch TV, she looked up at me sadly. “I don’t suppose I’ll be back here again.”

Slightly taken aback by the sincerity in her voice, I cast about for something to say. “Well, we have parks in the City. They’re pretty.”

“Parks,” she repeated. “Parks don’t measure up to this,” she said, looking about our enclosure. From up in the boughs a bird started singing.

“No,” I said quietly, beginning to understand what Ellen meant. “No, I suppose not.”

Dusk was beginning to encroach upon the valley when our mothers came out in search of us. We had begun playing in the tree fort and had lost track of time, however the callings for dinner reminded me how hungry I was. I came tripping out of the fort ahead of Ellen and ran towards my mother. “What are we having for dinner? Pizza? KFC? McDonald’s?” I yelled as I approached.

My mother smiled at me. “No, honey, your Aunt and I made spaghetti and meatballs for supper tonight.”

I stopped in front of the pair. “Sagettee and meatballs?” I asked. “Where did you get it from?”

“We cooked it,” answered my Aunt Kathy.

“You cooked sagattee and meatballs?” I asked again. “Can’t we go out to eat?”

“If my mommy’s spaghetti isn’t good enough for you, then you can just eat dirt,” said Ellen from behind me. The adults chuckled.

Burning with embarrassment, I turned to look at Ellen. She had her arms crossed and was looking at me smugly. “Country girls eat dirt!” I yelled as I pushed her onto the ground.

“Thomas!” exclaimed my mother as she grabbed my upper arm firmly. She had never touched me like that before. Ellen sat passively on the ground, watching my mother and I with a small smirk. I hadn’t even hurt her.

My mother pulled me away from Ellen and my Aunt Kathy. “Mom, I…”

“Listen to me, Thomas,” said my mother. I was shocked, she always let me talk first. “Your cousin and Aunt are going through a very difficult time right now, and I’d appreciate it if you could be nice to them. We’re leaving here the day after tomorrow, so you’ll be back home in the city, but don‘t forget that they’ll be staying with us too. If you want that Zoo-York you better start behaving.”

“But mom!” I whined.

“What, Thomas?” she asked, exasperated.

“She pushed me on the ground earlier!”

“Why did she push you on the ground?”

“I don’t know,” I lied. “I wasn’t doing anything!”

My mother looked at me with her penetrating blue eyes. “Thomas,” she said after a moment. “Please, for my sake, just be good for the next few days, alright?”

“Fine,” I grumbled as I kicked the dirt with my foot.

“Now go apologize to Ellen.”

Ellen had got up and was standing beside her mother, watching us. I shoved my hands into my pockets and walked over meekly until I stood in front of her. “Sorry,” I muttered as I stared at the ground.

“What’s that?” she asked as she cupped a hand around her ear and tilted her head towards me. “Sorry, you’d better speak up.”

I glared up at her. “I said I’m sorry,” I said a bit louder.

Ellen giggled. “You’re what?”

“I’m SORRY!” I yelled.

Ellen stuck out her hand. “Well hello, Sorry, I’m Ellen!”

The adults chuckled again and I did not remove my hands from my pocket. She grinned at me, knowing she had won. Finally, she lowered her hand and traipsed off to the house. I hated her then. She had made me look like a fool in front of our parents. My mother even acted differently to me because of her. She had pushed me to the ground like a weakling and didn’t even make a noise when I did the same to her. I hated everything about her and her stupid crummy house and her stupid crummy yard with its stupid crummy tree fort. Tears of anger fell upon my cheeks as I wished fervently to be transported back to the city.

“Come on, honey,” said my mom softly as she gently placed her hand on my shoulder. “Let’s get some dinner.”

I grudgingly allowed her to steer me inside. The last thing I wanted to do was be forced to be around Ellen for any extended amount of time. I vowed to myself to ignore her for the entire meal.

My mother and I sat on one side of the rectangular table while Ellen and Aunt Kathy finished bringing the food. My mother helped put spaghetti and meatballs on my plate and I ate with my eyes upon my food, avoiding Ellen’s gaze at all costs. She didn’t say anything the whole meal, so our parents talked about the “good ol’ days” or something. I was surprised to discover that the “sagettee and meatballs” weren’t that bad.

Suddenly, I heard a buzzing noise. Confused, I looked about the dining room until I saw a small bee flying about the ceiling light. Instinctively, I held my breath and prepared to dive under the table until I remembered what Ellen had said about not bothering it. So instead, I sat as still as I could as I watched the bee fly about lower and lower until it alighted, presumably attracted by the pine sap, on the hand I had set on the table. Nervous, I sat as still as a traffic jam, afraid that the bee would be able to feel my increased pulse and sting me. Much to my relief, the bee, finding nothing of interest, flew off my hand and landed instead on Ellen’s, who watched the little insect crawl around with great interest until it flew off her hand, too. Then she looked up at me and smiled.

I smiled back.

danner0408 @ 2006-09-27T21:53:00

2006-09-28T01:54:54Z

We had to write a poem in response to one in our Poetry book. The poem I chose was about the 1900s and went through the alphabet A-Z to describe it. My response was originally going to be a joke but now I kind of like it.

All I know is that
Because we are mortal we
Cherish the seconds
Differently than
Every mythological God.
Fear will do that to the
Greatest, make us
Have an appreciation for the life we all share.
I
Just can’t believe that there is still
Killing over things we have no knowledge of.
Love
Mankind unconditionally.
Nostalgia is a person’s way of lamenting their youth.
Our poems are that kind of
Personal lamentation, harboring the
Quintessence of our emotions,
Rendering us
Senseless at
Times.
Ugliness means nothing when you’re dead.
Vicissitude allows us to propel the
World into previously unimagined realms.
Xenophobia paralyzes.
Your poem shows me that the world is at once large and small.
Zephyrs will be the end of us.

Short Assignment

2006-09-22T01:15:44Z

It's crazy, but I like it. I wrote it for my Writing Fiction class and am going to change it a bit and broaden it. The inspiration for this was "The cock crowed at dawn", not to mention a deadline.

Evening fell. The palette of twilight stretched across the darkening sky in hues of blue and red and gray as a final fanfare for the drowning sun. The last rays of light slipped below the horizon. That’s when he awoke.
Rising from the coarse nest of grass as a creature of the netherworld, he sat rigidly listening to the noises of the night. He watched as the darkness enveloped the cave which he had turned into his shelter. He sat waiting…waiting…
Suddenly, as if provoked by some otherworldly being, he leapt naked from the grass and moved swiftly to the mouth of the cave. There he stood, illuminated by the moonlight and casting a long faint shadow back onto the cave rock, a black silhouette against a blacker night. There were no stars, only the faint glow of the moon that tried in vain to chase away the shadows of the night. He stood still in the mouth, becoming intoxicated with the tenebrous atmosphere. That’s when they came.
Dozens upon dozens of unclad ferocious humans flocked to his cave which rested in the center of a long-forgotten wood. All came to gather about this seemingly ordinary place in the most unordinary fashion. Without a sound, the squalid humans crouched low in front of the man, as if bowing. This position was maintained for several moments while the man stood with his eyes closed, breathing in the air through his nostrils. Finally, after many painstaking minutes, his eyes slid open. A clamoring of screams and riotous cheers emitted from the small clearing in front of the cave as the pack of humans went wild.
Without warning, the man took off at a run into the forest, his motley pack following behind. Although the bated moonlight was captured upon the leaves and rarely completed its journey to the ground, they did not need sight. They could smell their destination.
The humans traversed through the shadowy forest at incredible speeds, dodging about challenging obstacles without a break of pace. Eyes flashing, the humans approached their destination. As they came nearer they fell silent. The fence was in sight, and within it, domestic humans. One by one the wild humans leapt soundlessly over the barrier and encircled their prey. The sky would soon brighten. They would have to hurry.
The domestic humans stood grouped together grazing upon the dewy grass. The wild humans crept undetected towards the huddled mass and tightened their circle to prevent any escape. Suddenly, a domestic human that was slightly apart from the main group noticed the approaching danger and let out a shrill scream. Two wild humans were on her immediately as the rest sprung into the mass of domestics. Chaos ensued. Howls and screams were heard, bites and kicks inflicted. Before any fatalities could occur, however, the farmers arrived.
Out of the farmhouse stumbled a group of sheep, each armed with several roosters in each hoof. They came running fearlessly into the fray, thinking of nothing except the protection of their domesticated humans. Once within range, the sheep began heaving the crowing roosters into the wild humans, bleating wildly in the hopes of scaring them away.
Grenade-like-roosters crashed into the wild humans, injuring many. The sound of their crowing deafened many for hours to come, some even permanently. Howling in pain and fear, the wild humans leapt over the fence and disappeared deep within the forest.
The sun began to rise. It was a new day, and the wilds wouldn’t be back for many more nights. The domestics and their sheep owners could be at peace.

Story Part 2

2006-08-11T01:32:31Z

By the time they reached the village, only the bright stars and full moon lit their way. From a distance off, however, the two women could clearly see the firelight emitting from the village square as well as figures dancing about before the flames. Every building they passed on the outskirts of the village was left dark and alone. As Helena observed these seemingly forsaken abodes she choked back yet more tears.

"Adriana," began Helena to the woman with her, who nearly jumped of fright. Helena had not spoken since they left the shore. "I'd mich rather go home."

"Oh, nonsense," replied the pretty young girl. "It will be good for you to mingle and have fun."

"I'd much rather go home," Helena repeated, attempting to divert their course away from the village center.

Adriana laughed. "Come now," she said good-naturedly as she grasped Helena's arm to prevent any escape. Helena reluctantly allowed Adriana to pull her towards the firelight. As they walked, Helena glanced over at her captor.

Adriana, just past her 21st birthday, was a good four years younger than Helena. She was slender, curvy, and pretty, the object of all the boys' eyes. Her sleek blonde hair was done up in a pretty bun for the feast. The blue dress, which brought out Adriana's similarly colored eyes, left little to the imagination.

Once the pair reached the edge of the firelight Adriana was immediately beset by numerous suitors. Despite remaining attached to Helena, Adriana fluttered her eyelashes and smiled prettily upon the surrounding young men. None paid the slightest attention to Helena. Helena the Haggard, they called her, she who promised misery and misfortune to any whom affiliated themselves with the woman; however, they did not seem to mind Adriana's physical proximity to this wretched woman.

Adriana continued on past the suitors and led Helena towards the Grand Table near the traditional fire. Helena took her seat, for all knew their positions at the Table. Immediately, Adriana set off to flirt with the boys. A servant walked by with a tray of mead and Helena motioned to the man for a glass. Staring into the liquid, Helena gave a quiet sigh before quaffing the drink in a most unladylike fashion. The young man sitting across from her, Dillan Cordial, stared dumbfounded as Helena finished glass after glass.

On the opposite side of the fire came a piercing whistle, causing all noise to cease and every gaze to be directed there. Suddenly, gleeful cheering erupted from every corner of the center as dozens of little children rushed to the source of the whistle. The adults followed eagerly, though with a more measured pace, all save Helena. Having accumulated quite a few more drinks before the townspeople flocked to the opposite end, Helena was quite pleased to have the table to herself. She knew she was missing the traveling magician; however, with the hole that Thomas' absence created she was in little mood to be entertained. Fighting back tears, Helena glanced to the seat on her right -- Thomas' seat -- before completing another glass.

Before long, Helena had drank herself into quite an interesting disposition. A sudden explosion of lights, noise, and cheering from across the fire signaled the end of the magician's performance, and before long the crowd of villagers began making their way happily towards the feasting table where Helena sat in solitude. Many of them avoided any eye contact. Adriana, who was uncharacteristically lagging behind the crowd, spotted Helena and rushed to her side.

"Come, dear, let's get you home," she whispered as she gently grasped Helena's forearm.

Helena pushed off the offending hand. "No! You're the one that...that wanted me to come!" she argued as she attempted to rise, failed, and settled back in her seat.

"Helena!" hissed Adriana insistently. "Come! You need rest!"

The sound of laughter and music washed over them as the village band began to play. Helena laughed and clapped like a child, much to the chagrin of Adriana who began peering about the firelight, surveying those around.

Suddenly, Helena clambered upon the table and began dancing, knocking cups, plates, and decorations onto the ground. Holding her dress slightly above her ankles, Helena tapped out a rudimentary sort of jig, nearly falling off the table, and catching the attention of many of the villagers standing close by. Gradually, the remaining villagers as well as the band came to watch the spectacle.

"Get down, Helena!" shouted Adriana. Helena stuck out her tongue and kicked a cup in Adriana's direction. Adriana looked about desperately but saw that she would get no help from the awestruck onlookers. Even the old traveling magician was standing just outside the firelight, watching Helena's every move. Desperate, Adriana called out the one thing she was guaranteed a reaction for: "What would Thomas think?"

All noise and movement came to a jarring halt, as if Adriana had evoked an evil demon. Helena stared down at her, the firelight reflecting off her eyes giving her the appearance of that demon. "Don't you ever dirty his name with your tongue again, you wretched harlot!"

A gasp arose from the crowd at the insult as a man about Helena's age stepped forward to redeem Adriana's honor. "Take that back, drunkard! Young Adriana is of pure heart, and has stolen mine. Do not insult the one I love!"

A few snickers arose from the crowd for all knew of Adriana's flirtatious ways. "Pah!" replied Helena. "A few kissed behind the townhouse do not equal love. Ten shillings she doesn't remember your name!"

All eyes turned to Adriana, who blushed a deep scarlet and muttered "Jacob" under her breath.

Helena laughed loudly. "Even I, in this most demoralizing state I'm sure, know the boy's name to be Jonathan! Now, let me tell you all about Thomas!" Helena stood as straight and tall as she was capable of and began to sing a shanty she had obviously been composing for some time.

"My sailor left on a cold long day,
He went on his ship and sailed away,
He kissed me sweet and he hugged me strong,
And he said 'I won't be gone for long,
No, I won't be gone for long!'

The days are all passed with heartfelt pain,
And I can't wait to see him again,
And though he's been gone an awful time,
I know he'll never be out of mind,
No, never be out of mind!

Sad are the nights that I pass without,
Knowledge or word of his whereabouts,
And though I hope home will soon be found,
I fear that he's been sent heaven bound,
No, he's been sent heaven bound!"

Men and women with sympathetic tears in their eyes lifted their cups of ale to Helena, who did not hesitate in drowning her sorrow. Adriana's outraged expression was the last thing she saw before all turned to darkness.

Story Part 1

2006-06-29T18:10:23Z

Helena stood upon the shore, motionless, allowing her bare feet to sink into the cool sand. The ocean waves crashed time and again into her shins, but the woman remained as rigid as a boulder created in the beginning of time. Such was her resolve. The breeze, catching her sheer, flowing white dress and shining auburn hair, would give any unknowing onlooker a seeming image of an angel or sea nymph.

Somewhere in the rocks and cliffs bordering the beach came the call of a sea gull. Still, Helena did not move. Her eyes remained fixed upon the horizon. Slowly, her hand reached up to clasp the ornament hanging about her neck. Her fingers gently felt along every familiar ridge, seeking comfort in its presence. She reached up with her other hand and undid the catch, then rose the ornament up to her eyes.

It was a beautiful piece of jewelry, and, as Helena believed it, entirely unique. The ornament itself fit comfortably within the center of her palm. Two dolphins, fashioned from a clear green stone, encircled a flawless blue gem. Where the dolphins noses met was attached the gold chain from which to hang about the neck. The back of the ornament was cut flat with an inscription reading across the backs of the two dolphins that read:
"Upon sunset's final glow
The path homeward will thus show."

Helena brought the necklace down to her waist as she began again to stare across the endless water to the distant horizon. It would be sunset soon.

"Helena!" came a call, echoing against the cliffs. She remained motionless. "Helena!" came the call again, sounding closer, though with the echoes it was difficult to determine. She looked down again upon the necklace, examining its every aspect once more before clasping it about her slender neck. Finally, she looked to her left, from where she believed the voice to be coming from. A woman dressed in a light blue gown was making her way down the beach towards where Helena stood ankle-deep in sand. Helena made no move towards her, rather she watched the woman's approach impassively.

"Come, Helena," said the woman softly upon reaching her. "It is nearly time for the Summer's Eve Feast, and I know you wouldn't want to miss that. The whole village will be there, with no exception to you," she smiled.

"Thomas won't be," spoke Helena, clearly but quietly.

The woman's smile faltered. "Yes, well...well come along. The ocean will be here tomorrow." She slipped her arm around Helena's waist and turned her from the seascape, leading her to the path which led up the cliffs and to their village.

Upon reaching the top of the path, Helena turned her head for one last glimpse of the sea. The sun was just beginning to set and appeared as a great fireball drowning in the immense water. The beautiful rays affecting the hues of the clouds, sky, ocean, and cliffs appeared to Helena to be death throes cast by the sun in one last desperate attempt to climb above the reaches of the unforgiving sea. The woman placed slight pressure onto Helena's back to urge her forward. As a small tear coursed down her cheek, Helena turned and walked with the woman into the ever-darkening sky.

Reflection #1

2006-06-26T23:24:26Z

Reflection #1

What is death? Is it the end of our path through life? Is it the beginning of a life beyond the current experience? Death appears to be in an exact relation to life, and therefore an examination of that which we experience constantly could illuminate areas of such an unknown event.

The question then becomes 'what is life?' Is it a matter of viable organs and bodies? It seems that the body in all its forms is the container of life. Since one, during life, cannot seem to escape the confines of the body, it would appear that all matter of life is 'trapped' within a type of body. It is interesting that, once dead, the body is then referred to by such terms as 'corpse', 'cadaver' and 'dead body'. These reinforce the idea of life being 'inside' a body. For people at least, life seems further confined to our brains. Despite the ability to control ones extremities (to an extent), one does not sense their own presence elsewhere than in the mind. Is it, then, that life is simply the interactions the brain has with the body and itself? The realm of plant life immediately comes to mind. Although lacking a brain, plants hold the ability to grow and reproduce. I would proclaim, then, that life at its basic form requires the ability (as a species rather than individually) to grow, change, and reproduce.

It would seem that death requires the deterioration of the body as life requires its growth. It is odd that as we grow, we deteriorate. This again demonstrates the dependency of one upon the other. As with any pair of opposites, one could not exist fully without the other. It is interesting that, although death is the one event all living things will at one time experience, it is also the one thing that no living thing has.

Death appears to be the body becoming unable to cope with the living process.

We are slaves unto ourselves.

First Post

2006-04-04T01:12:51Z

Hey guys, I've been itching to create a separate journal for my writings. This is definitely much more for me than for you but if you request anything for me to put up then I will. I'll mostly be putting up essays (as that's primarily what I'm writing at the moment) and on occaision movie/book reviews and on extremely special occaisions even parts of the book I'm working on. Feel free to comment on anything I put up, I'd love any praise or criticism :-).