Holiday Writers!!!!!!

Finally! The Blog has been updated! I have included in this batch, "Holiday Writers", submissions from both November and December. We have a lot. Read ALL of them for there is a great variety. Your assignment for this month is to leave comments for five (5) entries. You choose. Because there are so many, you want to consider leaving a comment in each of the categories. Just an idea. As for the writers, you write comments for three (3) entries, AND watch the blog as the comments start filling up under your piece. ALL comments are due Monday, January 4th! (Yes, until midnight). Have a restful, healthy, relaxing, fun holiday season. I will miss you all, but as you know we stay connected on the Blog:) Enjoy the readings. You won't be disappointed. Love, Mrs. Solano

Alyssa-Dreams

Mr. Walt Disney has said, “A dream is a wish your heart makes.” So dreams hold what our hearts most desire, what we truly see as magical and what we yearn for the most. Sadly, dreams have also slowly become a fleeting item of the past. Each day we dream less, we lose hope in attaining these dreams, we believe not in our dreams but in the fact that there is no way to get them. Dreams, everyone tells us to go and chase after them, however at the same time we’re put down for even thinking about them. At a young age we are told that we can go for whatever we want. Astronaut? Sure. President? Definitely. Painter? Of course. Rockstar? Doctor? Most definitely. Go for it. However nowadays, we’re stuck thinking we aren’t good enough, that our dreams are pointless, there’s no way we can be successful pursuing them. The parents that used to encourage us to be whatever we wanted, are the same ones saying there is no possible way to make a good living out of it and to quit dreaming and think of a more practical job that’ll provide a more sustainable living. Because of this and many other reasons, we stray away from our dreams. Because of these doubts we go for the more logical answer, the job that will offer us the most money, the job that’ll give us the biggest house and the fanciest cars, the job that seems most practical to todays times of bustling and busy-ness. Because we give up on our dream, they remain a dream. Because we leave them in the past, they turn into a memory. Rather than being what we actually hoped to be, we’re stuck regretting what we didn’t do. Are we happy with this option? Do we feel like the path picked out for us is better than what we originally wanted? Is it in anyway the career you actual want to pursue? For some of us, we are lucky enough to say yes. Yes this is where I want to go, yes I feel happiest going down this road, yes I have found what I want to be doing for the rest of my life and with no regrets shall continue along being the happiest I can be. However for a good majority, the answer is no. No, I wanted to be a painter but the world says it’s not ethical and there’s no way my art will sell. No, I can’t be an astronaut because it’s too hard and it’ll take too long. No, I can’t be the dancer I dreamed of being because there aren’t enough jobs that cater to my preferred hobby that shall provide a good enough pay to sustain my family. No, I can’t go to college and get a cooking degree because everyone says cooking is a joke. No, my parents won’t let me be an actor because the opportunity of me making it to the big screen is far too slim. No, I wanted to be a writer, but everyone kept telling me to try something else. Even just saying what your dream is already elicits strange reactions from others and you can see it on their face when you tell them. They believe you’d be better off being a nurse or a lawyer or a secretary or some cubicle job that strays far away from your true fantasy. Too often we see people straying away from their true dreams because of the doubts surrounding us and then slowly we conform to the idea that those dreams were too far fetched anyway. Though sad, it is true that less and less of us are actual going out of our way to reach for the dreams we originally had in mind. Our hearts yearn for one thing but the real world snaps back at us saying to lean towards something more practical. It’s nice when you see other find a balance between their dreams and the real world but too many settle for being content rather than actually happy with what they’re doing. The luckiest are those who get to pursue their dreams full on. The ones who have worked hard to attain what they want because they knew that giving up on it wasn’t the best option. The ones who kept dreaming. So why do we all settle for leaving our dreams a dream? Why do we allow the world to dictate and tell us that our dreams are too far fetched? When instead we should be striving for them, when we should keep dreaming, when we should be turning all of our dreams into a reality because there is a purpose. I believe that when you make a dream come true, your heart’s wish is then fulfilled and only then are we happiest so why not at least try to make it come true? “All our dreams can come true if we have the courage to pursue them,” Walt Disney sure knew the importance of our dreams and I hope you do too.

Selena--Nightmare's Sanctuary

Creatures stir as the sun’s rays fade from the sky. Its oppressive radiance has left the world; it can no longer patronize them, shed dastardly sunlight on their features, make them appear grotesque and malignant. The humans go to their place of dreams where nightmares can spring. Clawed beasts tear them apart and the haunting calls of the owl or raven echo. Nightmares don’t mean harm, they never try when making humans tremor in fear. The moon takes its rightful place as the sentry of the night, the poor soul who was assigned the graveyard shift for all eternity. With the moon’s presence, finally, they can roam free without persecution. Erupting from the dead of night, a devil takes to the sky. Horns characterize him as such, yet, fluffy feathers adorn his body, and eyes like the sun pierce the darkness. He alerts his brethren that their time has come. His hoots appear ominous to mortals, as if he calls to his witch master, but he has no master, no ulterior motive. He’s prosecuted for the crime of foretelling a king’s death, which he had no intention of committing. His sole wish is to live, and he flourishes in the soothing moonlight. A trickster pads through their forest with Mischief following close by. The canopies of looming trees shield them from any sight. Two black souls, heading to the place of meeting, confide in and protect each other. A sharp caw communicates their arrival and ebony Mischief perches atop her dark knight. The wolf strides through the forest at a brisk pace. Soon, two other tricksters slide up beside him in their run. His blue eyes clash with their vibrant. Regarding each other simply, he slows his pace for the shorter of the two. She has the colors of a crackling hearth, charring the fuel into obsidian. They pass through a small parting of the trees where the moon gives her a calmer fire while her legs disappear into shadow. The lighter companion shares a likeness to his blue eyed friend, but he prefers dryer climates. Their four pairs of eyes are drawn upward by the flock of damned souls. Not all feast on the essence of others, flying foxes for instance. A grumble deep within the wolf’s throat sends Mischief off to greet them. The vampiric critters disperse to scout the perimeter of their forest. Mischief flies overhead and informs the quadrupeds that those hypocrites found nothing irregular on their way. The true fox, beside Mischief’s wolf, yips to acknowledge and thank her winged friend. They all slow to a walk as mankind’s former Elder Brother grunts. He narrows his eyes at the top of the slope. Wolf nudges him slightly, telling him to calm down, We’re all in the same boat, brother. Coyote gripes, Your boat looks fine to me, while mine is still in torrid waters. Their petite sister comes between them as Coyote bares his fangs, Come off it, boys. You’re acting like pups, we all made the journey for a reason, let’s not get held up now. Wolf dips his head in agreement, he’s easily the taller and sturdier of the three, You’re right. The raven flaps her wings backing up Little Fox, Let’s go, most of them are already here. Wolf asks, Are they all here, Mischief? Mischief responds, No, not yet. I wish people would stop calling me that. Coyote darts ahead while adding, I wish people would stop referring to me as a trickster or seducer. Wolf shakes out his pelt before trotting. Little Fox takes up the rear. The wolf and his foxy companion reach the top of the hill in no time. The majesty of the place takes their breath away, but the effect is medicinal on their aching hearts. Spider’s webs fill in-between the trees from the tops to the bottom. Elegant patterns of web mark the entrance to their sacred haven. The moon’s light makes the webs glow and dazzle in the consuming darkness. The little artists patrol the lanes of their creation, maintaining the security they offer. Wimpy humans wouldn’t dare lay a hand on the substance, for fear of their creators’ tagging along. For the fearless human brutes, the light coming from within the haven silhouettes a demon cat. His gleaming green eyes greet the travelers. Welcome, he purrs. Coyote flashes a grin while Wolf asks, Is Nightmare coming? Panther answers, She’s on her way, we’ll probably start without her. We were just waiting on you all. Panther turns his head as a tiny furball tumbles into him from behind. His features soften. Why’d you come out? The small kitten squeaks, Hyena was laughing at me… because I’m short… Coyote snorts, but is silenced by Wolf’s deep growl. Little Fox noses the sable kitten, You’re not full grown yet, little one. Wolf grins, And when you are, height won’t matter, your tongue will be much sharper than his. The kitten cocks her head, and the adults decide to enter. They pause when the kitten remains stationary, waiting for them to pass her. Wolf questions, Won’t you come? The kitten kneads the ground nervously, I don’t want to cross your path. Coyote smirks, Why not? Kitten whispers, I’ll give you bad luck. Little Fox nudges the kitten forward, It’s impossible for living beings to cause bad luck. Humans are simple-minded. The group strolls into the spacious clearing. Wolf’s lips pull at the moon’s reflection in the pond at the end, the water seems to shine pure white light. Such untainted water. Wolf bows his head stalking toward it; the light from the pool and moon make him silver. He’s a reformed demon here, they all are. He gets to peer at his mirrored reflection. Little Fox joins him; he sees her watching him, Beautiful. All other animals join them when a shadow slips from the opposite side, the nightmare harbinger, herself. Nightmare neighs, as muscles across her hide ripple, Welcome to my sanctuary, fellow fiends, monsters…

Allyssa--Never An Answer

As people we often times wonder why others do the things they do or what drives someone to make one decision over another. This could be things such as , why do people cheat on their significant other, or why someone murders another, or even something as simple as why we pick out a long sleeve shirt over a short sleeve. Sometimes we can easily analyze the situation and come up with an answer for the action, but other times, we sit and wonder why, and ask ourselves, what was the motive that led up to what they did? When I was only nine years old I had a moment where I began to ask myself that question. My family and I had been on our way to the Los Angeles airport, we were going to be going on a vacation, a cruise to the Caribbean to be more specific, and there is not much I can really remember now from that trip, but I will never forget what happened on the way there. We had been driving on the freeway and nothing about it seemed unusual, traffic was normal, the same as it is everyday in the LA area, the sun was out, it was just an average Southern California day. As we were getting closer to the airport, traffic hit a sudden halt and we were not quite sure what was going on, I had never seen so many cars squeezed in one area. There was no movement, everyone's cars were practically parked in the middle of the freeway right under an overpass,then suddenly I heard my dad say “Oh my gosh look” and he pointed to the overpass above us and a man was standing on the edge, I did not know what he was doing, he stood there for a few minutes, I could hear people yelling at him but I never heard what they were saying, I had turned my head for a split second and when I looked back, the man had jumped. Being only nine I did not know what was going on, I had never seen anything like that before and I kept asking my parents if the man was ok and why he did that. As soon as the initial shock was over my grandma called 911, but unfortunately the paramedics got on the wrong freeway and did not get to us in time. So due to the fact there was no help coming any time soon my mom being a nurse, jumped out of the car, along with a doctor who was only a few cars ahead of us and one off duty police officer who had been there trying to talk the man down before he jumped, and with no time to waste they all quickly tended to the man who had just lunged to his death. I saw them perform CPR and wrap shirts and any other things people had in their cars to stop the man's bleeding, but it was not enough, after fifteen minutes of CPR and non stop continuous bleeding, the man stopped responding and was gone. I could see through the window that everyone was silent and that many started to cry, my mom came back to the car sobbing and looking defeated, I did not know what to think, I had just seen a man go from being alive to dead in a matter of minutes. To this day I will never forget one other thing my mom told us when she got to the car, she told us that the man's phone had somehow miraculously survived the fall, and while they were giving him CPR it went off a few times, it was not until they knew he was dead they checked it, on the screen he had two texts and a missed call with a voicemail. The first text was from what we found out was his twelve daughter and it read “Hi daddy, you left work before I could say happy birthday to you, so happy birthday! I love you daddy”, the second text was from his mom and it said “Happy Birthday son, I am so proud of the man you have become, I love you” and the missed call was from his wife, they played the voicemail once the police showed up and it said, “Hi honey I have something big to tell you tonight, I am sure it is the best birthday present ever, I love you so much and I will see you when you get home”, we found out later, her important news was that she was pregnant. To this day I have always wondered what drove that man to jump on his birthday, he had a beautiful family and a little one on the way. Ever since that day I realized that more often than not our questions will never be answered.

Brianna--No Retribution

They never expected that their relationship would end this way. Not one foresaw their friendship with this outcome. They all feverishly dreamed it was eternal, that nothing, not even Death, would stop them from continuing on as friends, as nakama. It was not Death that ended the kinship in the end. Rather, it was one of their own that sliced the thin string that entwined their souls. With eyes emptied of passion, and hands void of tremors, the nakama who forced the hand of Death, ended her companions’ lives, before the world ripped itself apart. ________________________________________ She murdered Nova during the spring, as the world itself bloomed into life. Trees surged out of their slumber, greedily absorbing the light given by the sun. Earth painted itself in hues of greens, urging on the growth of Life, awakening the beasts. The rebirth of Mother Nature was a sight to behold, after being suffocated by blankets of snow. This display overwhelmed her dulled senses, after months of pure white. Her eyes filled with unspoken tears, but her resolve rang true, despite the guilt of bloodying this rebirth with her own hands. Tightening her fingers around the chilled steel resting within her hand, she set off swiftly into the forest, a mere few minutes behind the man. Her feet made not a sound, as wet leaves cushioned her heavy footfall. She listened, and followed the echoes of gunshots, the screeches of fowl flying away in terror. Stopping, she sunk gently against an old oak, tilting her head slowly out from behind it. Her gaze rested upon what seemed to be a mere bush, but what hid inside held her attention. She watched as the shrubbery shifted, and a saddened smile graced her lips as another gunshot rang out, though not one bird fell from the sky. Abruptly, the forest became hushed; not one creature made a sound. The world seemed to stop breathing, as she stepped out from behind the grandfather oak. She raised her arm, bending her arm to prevent recoil, as the piece of unfeeling steel aimed straight towards the stilled bush. She watched as it turned ever so slightly, as eyes peered out of the hideously colored plastic. The world breathed once again, as a single shot rang throughout the wilderness. ________________________________________ She assassinated Sugar as the world transformed into the sun. The leaves drifted soundlessly to the city streets, until hurried footsteps crushed them into specks. The air was choked by car horns, angry shouts; the music of buildings that scraped the sky. Weaving through the crowds, she followed his silky locks, black against the bleak heavens. The duo seamlessly moved throughout the city, until the man entered one of the monstrous buildings. She trailed the man until he entered an elevator, to which she steered towards the stairs, taking two at a time. Her breath came out in soft gasps as she raced up to the skyline. She stood atop the world, overlooking the bustling city, filled with colors of grey and orange. Fall was upon them, the vibrant colors shining despite the future before them. The colors glowed, even as she lifted the same piece of steel, and aimed it towards the man who gazed at the life before him. She sobbed softly, and watched as the man turned, facing her with widened eyes. She heard him whisper her name; whimpered as he lifted his hand out to her. She lost her hearing then, ignoring his rapidly moving lips, ignoring the words he begged to tell her. She did not hear the click of the steel, nor did she hear the last breath that he took. ________________________________________ She eliminated Immortal when snow began to fall again, smothering the world in a cloak of empty white. The forests grew still, drifting into a slumber like death. The cities filled with coughs and sneezes, with moans and grumbling. The once warm air was replaced with a frigid ghost, turning noses and ears alike, a fleshy pink. The ocean though, remained a luminous blue, even as the water drifted down to colder temperatures. Standing in the sand, she gazed tenderly at the glistening waves, for a moment forgetting her goal. She breathed in tempo with the tide, her body swaying back and forth calmly. She smelt the sharpness of the salt in the air, felt it stick to her caramel colored skin. She listened to the crashing of the water, the popping of the froth as the waves receded once again. She would have been content with simply standing there, until she saw him. The man walked along the shoreline, stopping occasionally to pick up a lone shell. He followed the sand, until she entered his vision. He halted, and stared in surprise as he recognized her. And all at once, he began to run towards her. He launched himself at her, hauling her into a clenching hug. His cries filled her ears, filled her heart with a cyclone of pain and regret. She did not lift her arms to wrap around him, did not return the passion he was radiating. Instead, her hand gripped the familiar slab of steel, and lifted it to his head as he pulled it back to look at her. She did not see hatred or misery in his eyes. All she saw were chocolate globes, reflecting her own; eyes that trusted her completely. The man closed these two mirrors, and accepted his death, as she quietly gave it, the shot freeing him painlessly. ________________________________________ Mitis stood mute as the waves crashed against her feet. She uttered not a sound as she gazed at the cloudless sky. She released not one word, as her eyes followed the nuclear missiles racing across the heavens, crashing behind her. The war had begun, but in the end, Mitis was satisfied. She had saved her friends from this pain, and allowed her punishment to be enacted. She had no more bullets, she would not free herself. This was the retribution she accepted.

Cole--What is time?

One day I found myself and a few friends of mine debating about the question, What is time?, in a discussion about the movie Interstellar. You would think it would be a simple short answer response and it's easy to understand, but really it's not! About half of the people believe that time is the fourth dimension (past, present, and future), others think that time is an illusion and does not exist. I believe that the true meaning of time lies in between the argument of dimension vs illusion. The definition that initially pops up on the internet is “Time is a measure in which events can be ordered from the past through the present into the future, and also the measure of durations of events and the intervals between them. Time is often referred to as the fourth dimension, along with the three spatial dimensions.” This defines that time is the fourth dimension and is measured is three spatial dimensions. However this can’t be true because according to the Big Bang Theory all matter, space and time came into existence, before that time did not exist. Also you can look at it through a religious view that god created the universe, god lives forever, therefore time doesn’t exist. Whichever way you perceive it time can absolutely not be a dimension. Then there is the people who believe that time is a figment of our imagination and truly does not exist. Let me give you a Mr. Dinkleman example to describe how I view it. Does the U.S. dollar actually contain an actual value or is it just some ordinary paper with ink on it? The answer is that yes it is just ordinary paper with ink on it, BUT it has value because the world believes it has value to it. Time exists because we believe that it exists. When you look at creation time was nonexistent, now however as humans there is a such thing as time. I think that time is how we measure the start of our existence to the end. It is also the same for every other living being, in which we usually compare our lifespan to theirs. Which could then lead to the question is time viewed differently by other species? But in my opinion I perceive time as a way that we describe our lives in an orderly way, because do you think humans thousands of years ago lived according to hours, days, or years? Time is something that you can use to explain what is going on around you in the past, present, and future.

Sean--Dreams

What are dreams? Are they abstract ideas that just randomly flow through or head? Are they our deepest wants and desires? Are they obtainable or are they so radical that they could never be obtained? The literal definition of a dream is “a series of thoughts, images, and sensations occurring in a person's mind during sleep.” but is that all it really is- just a series of thoughts and images? I don’t think that it’s that simple. I believe that every dream has some sort of meaning in our life and that each dream is somehow connected. What we observe in the world and how we process these things add to how we shape our dreams whether it be a literal dream as you sleep or as a metaphor for a life goal. Many times a dream will seem so crazy and just ridiculous that we either think that we’re going insane or that we may be on drugs, but I believe that that dream has some kind of physical connection to our beliefs, thoughts and morals. For instance, a traumatic experience in someone’s life may cause them to dream solely about that because of how it impacted their life. This happens because that is all they think about all the time so when the brain shuts down whilst they sleep the thoughts are trapped and still rolling around in their head so what their subconscious does is it forms the person’s dreams based on the thoughts still in their mind. This also applies to nightmares and how you feel as if you are in actual danger when in reality it’s your mind playing games with you. If you see a scary movie or if something has frightened you and that is constantly buzzing in your mind and you go to sleep, like the person who had a traumatic experience, the thoughts are still embedded in their mind and transfer to when they fall asleep. If this is true, then the same can be said for basically any experience in life that has had some sort of impact on a person. Llana Simons, an expert on dream interpretation and sequence, said “… those poems we tell ourselves at night in order to experience our unconscious wishes as real. Dreams allow us to be what we cannot be, and to say what we do not say, in our more repressed daily lives. For instance, if I dream about burning my workplace down, it's probably because I want to dominate the workplace but am too nervous to admit that aggressive drive when I'm awake and trying to be nice to the people who might give me a raise.” Even our dreams that we have that we wish to achieve in life are based on what we absorb from our experiences and from the world around us. We form what we want to do in life because someone or something persuaded us to pursue that goal. Dreams aren’t just random thoughts or ideas that our subconscious makes up because it’s bored, they are based off of real life experiences and reflect our desires, fears and ambitions. Llana Simons essay: what do dreams do for us https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/the-literary-mind/200911/what-do-dreams-do-us

Kathlyn--The Murder

It was a dark and stormy night and Emmanuel was looking at his beautiful reflection in the mirror. Feeling satisfied with his appearance he stepped out of his house to scour the neighborhood. He was strolling through the streets when he saw a mysterious black van slowly driving by him. He chose to ignore it and continued walking happily. But then the van stopped abruptly in front of him. Three individuals jumped out and masked him before he could see who they were. He fought and struggled but his efforts were no match against their strength. As they lifted him into the trunk of the car he exclaimed "You're messing up my hair!!" They closed the trunk shut, keeping him from escaping and drove away. After what seemed like forever the van finally reached its destination and Emmanuel came to the realization that he was being kidnapped. Still masked they lifted him out of the trunk and went inside an old abandoned house. After tying him down to a chair they removed the blindfold from Emmanuel's face and he looked around and saw his three kidnappers. They were wearing all black and had masks on so he could not figure out who they were. Emmanuel was very puzzled and scared, what could they possibly want from him? Suddenly one of the kidnappers pulled out a gun and Emmanuel knew that there was no way out of this. "Please don't hurt me!!" he cried. The mysterious figure pointed the gun toward Emmanuel's head and he knew that this was the end of everything. He shut his eyes anticipating hearing the gun fire and feeling the bullet pierce through his skull. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 the kidnapper pulled the trigger. And out popped a sign that said: "Kingsball w/ me?" Emmanuel was extremely confused he thought he was supposed to be dead by now. The kidnapper took off the mask and revealed herself but it turns out it wasn't a real kidnapper it was just Noelle. And she wasn't trying to murder Emmanuel all she wanted was to achieve the best backwards proposal ever. The end.

Tabitha--Ginger

Ginger the ginger gingerbread girl was very excited for Christmas. She was so excited to put up the tree and put up the lights and make everything pretty. She loved picking out the perfect gifts that she knew her friends and family would love even more than she loved receiving gifts. She started to play Christmas music in the car a week before December because she was just so excited. Ginger got pumped for Christmas early, maybe a little too early. See now Ginger was the type of girl who liked to plan out everything and she had planned in her head to have a wonderful holiday season all throughout December, but her plans were interrupted by one little boy. Tobi was had the same exact feelings towards Christmas that Ginger did except he had one more special thing planned. He wanted to pick out a special gingerbread cookie to eat with his hot chocolate. His special day had come, his mom was going to take him to the bakery to pick his special ginger bread cookie and when he got there his eyes went directly to the perfect cookie. Tobi had red hair and when he saw the little gingerbread girl with red frosting for hair he knew that cookie had to be his special Christmas gingerbread cookie. Tobi got home, ripped open the bag, pulled out his cookie, and bit off its leg. He went in for the other leg but was stopped by his mother who called him to go help being the groceries in. Ginger wakes up and freaks out when she realizes that her leg is gone. She gets up and immediately falls back down. She lays there and tries to think of a way to get away. She sees toothpicks on the counter and picks them up and uses them as crutches and limps away as she sobs over the loss of her leg. She makes it back to the bakery and finds her friends and they help her get a new leg and then they attach it with frosting. They couldn't really put it on quite right so Ginger was now a little lopsided. She got up and tried to walk and again fell down. Her friends held her up and she tried to step and fell again, but this time she just stayed there and cried. She cried for about an hour but then she saw something out of the corner of her eye, a Christmas tree. She stopped crying and called her friends to help her up to get closer to it and she took some steps with the help of her friends and then pushed them off and limped herself the rest of the way to the tree and sat under it. She sat under the tree and though about the big change in her life that happened today, she thought about all the plans she had for the Christmas season, and the rest of her life and how her new lopsided leg would affect all those plans. She decided that even though her life plans would change a little bit she wouldn't let it ruin her Christmas spirit and happily went off to her finish her Christmas cookies. She limped around the store and finished her shopping, she wobbled on the ladder and completed her tree, and lastly she plopped down on her seat Christmas morning and happily opened her present. It was sparkly new crutches colored bright red to match her hair.

Myla

She was confused. Muttering to herself questions of what's right and wrong. She scared them, an adult woman so unsure of herself walked in circles, trying to accept all she knew that wasn’t considered what was right. It was her own fault they say, watching her with piercing eyes every time she passed through the streets, she wept, but no one took pity. Her madness confused her, feeding into the lie, slowly her bright yellow dress began to fade.The society surrounded her, pointing out her flaws, every bright idea she had was smothered by gray suits. Answering a question became a failure, she tried to endure. The bright lady became pale out of fear, doubting her answer as the room filled with laughter, while the sound of clouded gray chased her away. If wrong was right and right was wrong, all she knew perished, flipped around in her head the love of colors was finally dead. In her home she packed her things, trying to conceal small bright little things. Just one more glance in the mirror, she look down from head to toe, she shed her last tear for it was forever goodbye to the yellow dress she adored. She packed her dress away with the other bright things and stepped out to the public dressed the right way. The wrongs were no longer confused, if wrong was what is right, then the madness was finally settled. She became one of them for a long period of time. One day, the sun was too bright for them all. The woman walked the same street, now assigned the right career, passing the park expecting it to be as empty as ever. The small pitter patter of little girl’s feet, jumping from one draw box to the other, she smiled and cheered over the game with one winner and one loser, like herself but that didn’t depress her. The toddler in white with polka dotted yellow, ran fast to the lady to gave her a flower. At that moment she remembered. That her mother chose her name wisely, in case she would forget to always be pure of innocence, full strength of a shiny yellow that shouldn’t be concealed. For her name is Daisy Right, who's to tell her what’s wrong with her rights.

Sienna--My Journey

My freshman year I lived in Arizona and I was content with the lifestyle I had back there. I was fortunate enough to have a stable group of friends that I had grown up with since I moved. As far as my school life, I went to one of the most excelled schools in the state, and I was doing very well. Just when the start of my high school experience was beginning to take off, things changed. I was born here in California and when we moved to Arizona, it was depressing have to leave our entire family and everything we established here behind. My family and I lived in Arizona for approximately seven years, and the topic of us moving back to California came up frequently, although we never actually followed through with this aspiration of ours. Towards the end of my first semester as a freshman, I noticed that this time my parents were serious about moving and I was beyond terrified. They had always promised me that once I entered high school we wouldn’t move because they did not want me to have to re-adapt once I have already set my foundation in high school, especially since I was doing very well in school. Unfortunately, sometimes promises are broken, my parents told me in around November of my freshman year that we were going to be moving back to California by the start of the upcoming semester. I was very confused and upset, at the same time overjoyed, this combustion of feelings was a very emotional time for me. A part of me wanted to be excited, with my parents, but the other half of me was crying on the inside because I knew this meant I would be leaving everything that I had established in Arizona behind. For the few months that preceded I masked my true emotions to my parents because I knew that this was something that they had wanted to do for a while now and I honestly, did not want to be a debbie downer. So many thoughts and questions were in my mind, where are we going to live? What school was I going to attend? Would I make friends? Will I ever see my friends from Arizona again? This was extremely overwhelming for me and I knew it was for my entire family as well, but they had different concerns. As we packed our boxes, the projected date was approaching quickly and they majority of my concerns still had not been addressed. My parents had no idea what school I was going to go to, I did not know if I was going to make any friends and I had no idea if my friendships would continue with my Arizona friends. December 13, 2012, was the day that my family and I drove from Arizona to California, once we crossed the border I began to cry hysterically, because my masked emotions just revealed itself, I broke down and let everything out. When we arrived here in California, we stayed with my uncle for a period of months and then my parents enrolled me into Etiwanda High School, my first day can only be described in one word, serendipity… a happy accident. I eagerly wanted to make friends although I did not necessarily know how to, and so I approached two girls who seemed to be fairly nice, but that was not the case. I quickly realized they had no intentions of being friends with me and I walked away in disappointment. A few minutes later I decided to approach another group of girls and they were polar opposites to the first group of girls, they even invited me to eat lunch with them! Ironically, I am best friends with those group of girls still today. Looking back now on how relentless I was to moving, I regret it, but I do not regret having mixed feelings about it because I was uncertain of the outcome and I wanted assurance. I was so utterly terrified of moving but deep down inside I knew I would do just fine adapting to a new school, and new people. My family had confidence in me and they hoped that by moving I would be exposed to more opportunities by living. By moving I actually realized who my real friends are back in Arizona because they were the ones that no matter how many miles apart we are, we still make an effort in our friendship. Most importantly, I discovered that it is okay to be unsure about the future because sometimes you just have to go wherever the open road leads you.

Matthew--The Lone Wanderer

“On the road again, huh boy?” said the man to his canine companion. The dog barks with enthusiasm as the two press forward. Across the great spans of the world in front of them, the man sees only a decayed wasteland. Destroyed buildings where great cities used to be, dried ground formally full of green and life. Dust builds and the winds blow upon the man and his faithful companion. The man stands, dawning an old duster coat upon his old tailored suit. On his back lays an old, bolt-action sniper rifle with his trusty revolver on his hip. On an old broken highway, the man and dog wander briskly down the road. While following the old road, the two stumble upon an old house. The house has been coated with a fresh coat of dust and grime, broken windows cover up the simple interior of the house. The man sees smoke coming from the house’s chimney and decides to investigate. As the two approach the door of the house, a small pift of sand straight up at the man’s feet since the sound of a gunshot ringing out to the sky. “That’s far enough, now what do you think you’re doing out in these parts?!” said a voice coming from inside the house. The dog started to growl but the man pets his friend to let him know to calm down. The main raises both of his hands. “I’m sorry to intrude, but I’m just looking for a quick rest from my travels, and I think my friend is getting mighty exhausted. I don’t mean you and yours no harm.” “Alright fine, give me a second.” Said the voice. The door opens and out walks an old man, holding a simple rifle. The old man sports a rugged beard with white hair while dressed in some tan overalls. “Feel free to come inside, sorry scaring your pet there.” Said the old man “Appreciated, c’mon boy.” Said the man. Both the man and old farmer step inside the home, with the dog in tow. They both sit down at a dinner table as the old farmer gathers some food, cooking from his stove. He offers the man and his pet a plate and they all sit to eat. “Nice to see another friendly face around here, things weren’t always this lonely around here.” Says the old farmer. “Really, and why is that?” says the man as he sets a bowl of water for his companion. “See the thing is, raiders came to our homestead and attacked us. I was able to hold them for a bit, but they ended up taking my girl. Not the first time they’ve harassed us, but damn if they aren’t persistent.” “Wait, they took your daughter? Do you know where they are now?” said the man. “I think they’re hold up at the old gas station down the road. Now, I don’t want yourself and your friend to get hurt now. I’ve been meaning to gather some friends to help me bring my daughter back home, but I’m not as young as I’ve used to be…” sorrowly said the old man. “Don’t worry, I can get her back for you.” “Really? Are you sure? I don’t have much to give in return…” “No need for that, I know what it’s like to have something taken from me.” “Thank you, good sir, please make sure she’s safe.” “Of course.” The man gathered his belongings together and the two went back on the road. After a little while, the man and dog found themselves at the gas station. Out front were two raiders, sitting by a makeshift camp. The man grabs his sniper rifle from his back. “Stand back boy, I’ve got this” The man bends down on one knee and chambers in a round into his rifle. He looks down the scope and focuses on one of the bandits. He steadies himself and holds his breath. Locked in on his head, the man pulls the trigger. Dead. The bandit sitting beside his now-deceased friend jumps, reaches for his gun and gets behind an old, broken down car. The man loads the ammo shell out of the gun and chambers in a new round. He re-positions himself. He sits waiting for the bandit to pop his head back out. He does. The man holds his breath again and aims down his scope. Dead. The man and his dog quickly get up and make their way towards the gas station. He approaches the two dead raiders and searches around any other raiders nearby. It was just those two. After quickly scanning the area, the man and dog enter the gas station building. The building is dimly lit by small rays of light, shining through the small holes in the wall. Also by small hanging lights upon the ceiling. The building is quiet, and the man slowly walks forward through the building. They enter a rather spacious room, dimly illuminated by a small bonfire. A raider sits near the fire with a tied up girl laying on the ground nearby. “So I see heard you took care of my two friends outside, guess they were never good watchmen. Well I’m guessing that you’re here for the girl. See now I can’t let you take her. I hear young ladies make for a fine price on the slave market.” Said the raider. “Yeah, well guess there’s only one way that someone’s gonna walk out of here then.” Said the man. The raider then pulled out his pistol and fired, but missed. Both got into cover. Both the man and the raider attempt firing back at each other from behind cover. One shot is able to graze the man’s arm and he takes time to heal himself behind cover. As he tends to his wound, his dog rushes the raider and is able to bite his arm. “Aghhh! Get off me, you damn dog!” screamed the raider as the dog hangs onto the raider by his teeth. This gives the man time to take a painkiller and quickly cover his wound. The raider throws the dog to the side and grabs him arm in pain. “Damn dog, I’ll eat you next.” Said the raider, suddenly he hears the sound of a revolver being cocked. “Hi.” Says the man. Dead. The man rushes over to his dog to see if his faithful friend is okay. Afterwards, they both head over to the young woman tied up on the ground. The man slowly takes off the bindings around her eyes and mouth. “Oh my god, thank you so much! I thought I’d become a slave for sure! Oh wait….please don’t tell me you’re here to enslave me too.” Said the woman “Oh god no, your father sent me. Let’s get you home.” They all head on out back onto the road, back to the farmer’s house. As they approach the home, the old man runs out and embraces his daughter. “Oh Raime, I thought I’d never see you again!” “Don’t worry dad, I don’t go down without a fight.” “You mean without me doing the fighting.” Said the man. “Hahaha don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about you, thank you so much stranger! Why don’t you and you and your dog stay the night?” said the farmer “Well don’t mind if we do.” Said the man. So they all decide to stay the night at the homestead and enjoy each other’s company. The man and old farmer share a refreshing beer as Raime shares funny stories of the raiders doing stupid stuff as she was with them. Finally, they all decide to go to bed. Early in the morning, the man and his companion awake. The old man and his daughter are still asleep. Dawn is barely cracking, but the man and his companion decide to head out. They leave as quietly as possible, hoping not to wake the two up. The two exit the house and make their way into the wasteland. As they’re leaving, the man looks back towards the house and sighs. His canine companion looks up towards his master, panting ever so happily. The man looks forward on towards the road and pets his companion. “Let’s go, pal.”

Amanda--The Fan

"Get up Ava! You're not going to sit around all day doing nothing. I know its hard dealing with this, but my duty as your best friend is to get you back up". It's a beautiful day out in LA, Ava and her friend Aria are out just shopping around after finally getting Ava up. Annoyed and hungry, Ava slumps around after Aria because she just wants to go back home to sleep away the heartbreak she recently felt. Suddenly as they're walking around the crowded streets they hear loud screams saying, "OH MY GOD ITS REALLY HIM!" Curious as ever they wander down the street passing each beautifully decorated window for the upcoming holidays to see what was happening. Abruptly Aria stops, pulls Ava to the side freaking out in a panic as the crowd rushes towards them. Up ahead is a narrow, hole in the wall store that they run into to avoid being trampled by the hundreds of people running. As they run in, they hear a loud screech outside and turn to see an all-black, shiny escalade with dark tinted windows pull to a sudden halt. Squinting from the glare of the sun, the girls turn back around to see a tall man around 6'1 with curly hair and hazel eyes walking quickly and ducking behind 2 other men. When Ava catches a glimpse of the 2 men she automatically knows who it is and starts freaking out, hitting aria's arm on the verge of passing out. Her green eyes lock with his as one of the men with him rushes towards her and covers her mouth to keep her from screaming and blowing his cover. Standing there, right in front of her, is the one and only Drake, Ava's longtime idol/celebrity crush. Once they calm her down, they all begin talking soon being well acquainted with him and end up going on a ride with him. He eventually catches on to the glances the girls share and realizes how excited Ava really is. Hours later, the blue skies turn to vibrant shades of pink, red, orange and darker shades of blue as the sun sets and the girls prepare to leave. Before leaving, someone comes from behind Ava, grabbing her arm and dragging her behind them. Drake pulls her outside and offers her floor seats to his next concert and invites her to hang out with him again. Ecstatic and giddy Ava accepts and leaves. On the way home, Ava thanks aria again for forcing her to go along with her, "Honestly Aria, you're the best. Thank you for helping get over things and pulling me out the house against my will. This has truly been the best day ever."

Diana--Confidence

Confidence is a key factor to success and happiness, and I believe it’s a characteristic people profoundly carry, either secretly or openly. The true definition of confidence is a feeling of self-assurance arising from one's appreciation of one's own abilities or qualities. For example, athletes are described as confident, one may ask why, and it’s simply from a continuous amount of compliments thrown at them based off their hard work. Although confidence can be mistakenly viewed by an individual’s appearance or how they carry themselves, it’s much deeper, it’s depended on self-acceptance of ones capabilities. Self-acceptance is only the beginning to this journey, for anyone, and most often people aren’t aware of their potentials until they are told or shown otherwise. My theory is people purposely hide their confidence because they don’t want to be portrayed as “conceited”, but that’s where we go wrong. We, humans can’t be mopping around society, rather than we have to be the inspiration for future generations. We have to show them anything is possible if they believe in themselves, but others also have to believe in us along that journey. Conceited is known to be highly self-centered, and in most cases these people aren’t willing to put in energy for others, rather than themselves. The great thing about confidence it’s like a stepping stool, it only rises an individual closer to their dreams, rather than those who constantly attack themselves, it is said we are our own worst enemy. Look at the wrestlers, sometimes they will be faced up with an opponent who is ten times bigger than them, but that doesn’t mean they’ll run away from their duty, it’s their job to walk onto the mat with confidence, and knowing they will win. Without will power, they will be destroyed within five seconds, because once a person has a set mindset then the body will begin to react alongside of it. Allowing negative ideas attack an individual’s goals only makes it harder to accomplish something that is only one step ahead of you. Positivity is similar to confidence for it is what holds the common ground and lifts up an individual’s spirits. But people have to keep a positive outlook because they know it will benefit them in the future. For example, I get tired of high school, having a job, and my involvement in extracurricular activities, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to give up and find an easier route, rather that I’m determined to continue managing all three with GPA average of 3.2, because I am determined to improve myself in any way possible, but I have also come to realization my personal self-confidence could be highly affected by my school work more so than my personal insecurities. And that’s when I learned I had to be more self-accepting, and obtain life is full of challenges with failure and accomplishments faced every day, and without having a sense of confidence there’s no happiness nor being content, and without that happiness there’s nothing worth fighting for.

Pelumi--Senior Year Struggle

Congratulations! It’s finally senior year, the last year of high school, graduation is closer, you can just see yourself walking across that stage…Watch out! Noooooo, you’re too late and you have just been hit by a hurricane of college apps. I mean, in reality you could not have escaped. You knew it was coming but you thought it would just be a breeze. You thought you would sit back, have one less period, college apps would only take a day, and brag sheets? What are those?!?! Then, you would have second semester to turn up!!!! There’s prom, grad night, senior sunset, and most importantly, GRADUATION!!! But no, instead you find yourself stressing out, you find out that the brag sheet takes forever, so maybe bragging isn’t for you. And those flipping personal statements and essays you don’t even know what to write about. And the homework just keeps coming because some teachers just don’t care! You get 4 hours of sleep and you still have extracurricular activities. Your room is a mess, and you can’t find your bed anymore. Your floor is covered with the propaganda ads you get in the mail from colleges. And you have to keep your grades up, because this is your last chance to give your GPA a boost. You spend time looking at different websites to see what colleges look for, especially your dream school, and every website is saying 100 different things. You are wondering if everything you have done for the last three years is just going to go out the window. At the end of the day, you’re just trying to get into college. And college is not doing anything to make your life easier. The college industry does what they have to. Yes, the college industry, I will explain why they are an industry. These colleges have multiple sources of revenue. What’s revenue? Aren’t you in Econ? Just kidding, I knew you weren’t paying attention. Revenue is the income that a business has from its normal business activities, usually from the sale of goods and services to customers.You see, we are the consumers, we give them money by paying to send SAT scores that we wish were a lot higher. We pay for application to a schools that might not accept us, and to top it all off there are no refunds! Not to mention the amount in tuition you will be paying the college you DO get accepted into for the next four years. To be safe, you result to applying for scholarships. But then you realize that applying for scholarships is also not a one day thing. Some scholarships require essays and letter of recommendation, it is like applying to college all over again especially since you might not receive the scholarship. Now you just do what you have to do, because you are worried about all the money you have to spend second semester because you hear that senior year is expensive, and slowly it is becoming your reality. Before all things mentioned, you thought you were struggling alone. Well, now you see you are not, even if you cannot relate to every scenario, you can relate to most. And it is not just us, high school seniors all over the country, and some internationally are going through similar things. Most people are putting the finishing touches on their applications. Those who applied early decision are having anxiety, and wether you applied early decision or are going to apply regular decision, you cannot help but thing what goes on in the decision room. You can only pray that your file ends up in the “admit” pile. So thank God for schools with rolling admissions. And at the end of the day, there is only so much you can do. The seniors before you went through this, and they turned out just fine right? At this point, you can only do what you can do. Just remember, yes, you will graduate, and yes you will get into college. So try to enjoy senior year… well maybe second semester, and don’t think about those AP tests just yet. Like the cast of High School Musical sang, “We’re all in this together!” But, we know Disney lied to us, and high school is nothing like High School Musical.

Felicia--Loss of Cognitivity

Today, my phone took a lovely plunge into a pool of water. Needless to say, it is currently laying in a bag of brown minute rice, its own sort of deathbed. It is not expected to wake up. In fact, arrangements are already being discussed about a replacement. A rather sad event, I know, quite devastating actually. I find it funny though that what’s worrying me is not the fact that I will probably have no way of hovering around Instagram, which I’m not afraid to admit that I’m pretty addicted to, but the first flash of horror that flooded my mind was the fact that I might lose all my contacts and pictures. Now, this is a seemingly typical worry, and reasonable too, but as it is that I have had no phone access all day, I’ve thought alot about this little detail. My biggest fear, at this very moment, is losing memories and connection to the people I know. Cognitivity. That is the word that I have probably over used more than any other word in my vocabulary this past year. It is one that appears in just about every college essay I’ve written so far, one that I hear at least once every weekend, one that pops into my head just about everyday. It was about four years ago, that I had my first encounter with this word, though I didn’t hear it, I saw it. My grandpa, Papa, as I called him, was a chocolate enthusiast, a lover of plaid flannels, a navy veteran , a perfect airplane impressionist, and the only grandpa I had ever known. He was always old to me with gray hair and thick glasses. But, I saw it slowly. It started with the denters, which ended his chocolate endeavors and his cravings for anything sweet. He didn’t always remember things. I had always seen Papa as the more dominant of my grandparents because my grandma could not hear very well and he was always the one we could communicate with more accurately. But, I started to notice a shift. It seemed sometimes that he was just nodding his head, but didn’t really understand what it was we were saying. It was within the last two years that I really started to notice the changes. I remember my mom getting phone calls at 7 pm from my grandmother. Papa was getting ready for work, though she feverently told him it was not time for work, but time for bed, he wouldn’t listen. He needed to get to work and he would leave without her if he had to. My mom must have spent fifteen minutes arguing with Papa on the phone before he finally gave in and went to bed. Incidents like these became common day events. Dementia. That’s what it came down to. By last December, he had few motor skills. He could smile and laugh, which he never lost, but his ability to make connections, think for himself, and speak his mind, were all gone. It was midwinter break when he was rushed to the hospital after having a breathing fit in bed. They discovered two fractured shoulders, the aftermath of an unknown fall or the possible mishandling of the paramedics in a rush to get him there, we don’t really know. From there to March, he lost his complete mobility. My grandparents had little money, but big bills, and finding money to get him assisted care was impossible. My mom and grandma had to do the majority of it from home. I gained my first experiences and confirmation of my future career as a physical therapist from helping aid his transportation and care. March 18th ,2015, he passed away. Since then, I guess i’ve developed an obsession with cognitivity. It’s such a scary surreal thought to me that at any moment in my life I could lose my memory or even the luxury of thinking. The scarier aspect is that the distinction between having and losing your cognitivity is blurred; you could continue on the rest of your life not even realizing your inability to communicate with other people. It was a painful experience to watch. Now that my grandmother on my other side of the family has been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, I am once again going through a similar experience. It probably sounds silly that my phone’s sudden downfall should lead me to reflect on my grandfather's illness, but I think it definitely reveals my current fears, and it is obvious to me why I developed them. I love thinking and I don’t want to ever reach a point in my life when I don’t have that capability. I write so much more now that I’ve considered this in order to preserve my thoughts and memories. The ability to have control over your brain is such a basic characteristic that it took this experience to make me realize how much I appreciate it. In the end, I guess there’s no way of knowing what it’s like to be the one experiencing this change in mental ability. But, what I do know from watching Papa’s ever present smile is that no matter what your brain can or cannot do, the loss of cognitivity cannot take away who you are as a person.

Didi--The Kitchen God's Wife

Amy Tan’s novel, “The Kitchen God’s Wife” is a hidden gem of a book that should be incorporated in modern day education. A somber tale of Chinese born Winnie Louie, a woman who was born into the patriarchal society of World War II era China, as well as during the Chinese Civil War. The novel is a frame story originating from the perspective of Winnie’s only daughter Pearl, a Chinese American, who has been hiding her diagnosis of multiple sclerosis from her overbearing mother. And for Pearl it is not hard to hide, because of the cultural and language gap between her mother and herself. But due to the third wedding of her cousin and a funeral for her Great Aunt Du the day after, Pearl and her mother are brought together where both must come to terms with the secrets they have been hiding and be truthful with one another. After the events of the wedding and funeral, the bulk of the story is narrated by Winnie who only pauses from her storytelling when Pearl or Aunt Helen,an old friend of Winne’s, interjects or to signify a day’s end. Throughout Winnie’s story she tells her audience,in this most cases Pearl, about her life before America. She details her life that began as the only daughter of a concubine who disappeared after being suspected of Marxist connections. And from the time of her mother’s disappearance Winnie’s life belonged to the men in them. Winnie’s father sent her to live on an island called Tsungming with her cousins and aunts. In order to have a financial leg up on the rest of their Chinese counterparts, Winnie’s aunts arrange her marriage to a young man named Wen Fu(who is the devil incarnate). From that point on Winnie’s location and life are all up to the demands of her military husband Wen Fu. Wen Fu served in the Chinese air force, and as a result he and Winnie travelled throughout China from base to base. During this time Winnie was subject to verbal, physical, and sexual abuse from Wen Fu. And as the war progressed in China the degradation of Winnie’s life grew as well, the abuse she suffered went unconfronted. The rest of the Kitchen God’s Wife chronicles Winnie’s life with Wen Fu and her struggle to escape from his grasp along with all the important life details in between. Tan is the author of many other novels that center on the lives of females and their Asian ancestry, in which you can see the recurring theme of the female story as an instrument to show endurance. And in this story Tan presents a highly believable plot line for the central characters, as most readers will be familiar with the situations that occurred in China during World War II and the Chinese cultural revolution. The book's message and theme can also be seen through the title and its allusion to the Chinese fable about Zao Jun or the Kitchen God. In which Jun, a former beggar, marries a woman of wealth and status, but he mistreats her throughout their marriage and when all their money is gone he leaves her and turns to a life of begging. One day when he sees her while begging his guilt causes him to end his life by throwing himself into a fire and for doing so receives the title of God from the king for his “courage”. Tan uses this fable as the title to relate to Winnie’s story, Wen Fu represents the unfairly praised Kitchen God, and Winnie is the unnamed Kitchen God’s Wife who receives no praise for living with the abusive Kitchen God and remaining faithful to him. Tan’s writing has a rare effect, it truly makes the audience read from line to line and delve deep into the world that she creates. And while this story has a female main character and her exploits often require some amount of female prerogative, at the same time the necessity to be in the mindset of a female in a heavily patriarchal society helps the audience better understand the character’s struggle. Along with the theme of female endeavor, Tan does bring into play issues that affect the world today even though the novel was published in 1992. One of the most prominent when read, was the issue of rape, and for most this is a subject that causes extremely strong feelings, as it should. Tan uses this all too real life experience that happens to her main character to illustrate the state of womanhood during the time period in focus; women were very much objects and had to accept the sexual abuse against them because their country and societal peers allowed it to go on. Again in highlighting this harsh reality Tan is forcing her audience into feeling what these characters felt and experiencing the mindset of these misunderstood women. Even if this review does not convince you to go and read the novel, I would honestly suggest giving it a chance. I only started reading it because were given points for having SSR books and I forgot mine that day so I just read the first thing I found. And I could not put it down after that.

Jose--Deaf and Silent

I must not talk; I must not speak! A wall of thunder and chaos has followed me here. I must not help; I must not hear! Chains of barbed wire will hook the circumference of my neck. My lips are sewed; I cannot speak; I lost that ability a long time ago. Everyone’s mouths were open and loud; the noise filled the whole room, inch by inch without missing a single spot. The room stood high in the heavens starring straight into the eyes of the sun, without a blink. I lied under it using my sunglasses for protection; possibility for cancer was never an option. And so I lied and lied for no apparent reason. It remained this way for a long while, until I eventually saw no reason to persist standing beside the great room. All of its occupants wore no lenses, not even contacts, and stood starring into the burning breath of the star. I would climb the stairs up the room however, the cost of the entrance was to open my mouth. Yet it was as if my lips were sealed, pore by pore, with a solid attachment that would never let go. Therefore, I made the decision myself to seal my lips permanently, for if I did so I would not have to ever climb the stairs of utter despair. I am right and it is final; my ideas seclude me with no other desire. I listened but I heard no difference; noises and noises cruised by my neck, yet I could not distinguish each one that whispered. Murmurs, murmurs, I heard repeatedly. My head shifted and twirled in a wall with no exit. I listened in the great room, I heard voices with obsolete definitions and claims; I detested them so much! But I remembered I could not speak, so I began to hear. ‘I am right, and they are wrong.’ Is this really so true? I had heard these people speak of such irrelevances, yet I also heard admired quotes, ‘This is the answer, ignore the rest, you know your doors are closed, so let me open them sealed rose.’ I listened and realized I was not all correct, but my ears possessed me and governed my sense of reason. I cannot enlighten or be enlightened, my ears do not hear at all except the sound of their voices. The little left on my mind was aware of the corruption, I was not alright. And so, my lips are closed and my ears are unopened. Will I stay this way forever, or will it only be a decade? I know it will be long, it is sure. Yet I will not surrender to the eyes of the ignorant. I will climb the stairs with an open mouth. I will sit at my desk in a neat suit, and I will stare into the light of the sun without the use of protection. My ears will lose their power; my mind will have opened the exits as a result of the soviet withdrawal. They once governed me, but not anymore. Now I stand on the heat of the glimmering sun, in the room, and my mouth screaming louder than the sirens around us.

Ashley--The Life of Divorced Parents

It all started back in 2009 when I was only 8 years old and finding out that my parents were splitting apart forever. Just being 8 I really didn't understand what was going on. How I understood it was that daddy was just leaving for a couple of days just to get some space, and the coming right back home. but that's not how it turned out, it turned out that daddy was moving out and going to live with someone else. Mommy then sits my brother Brandon, my sister Miranda,and I down and tried to explain what was going on, but I didn't quite understand. As mommy is trying to explain it my sister Miranda asked my mom as tears run down her face, “Daddy doesn't love you anymore, does he has feelings for someone else?” As I saw the tears running down my sister Miranda’s face I started to cry. My mom wipes the tears off Miranda’s face then mine as my brother sits there in silence and replies sobbing, “ Honey, at this point I really don't know.” As tears continue to rub down down our faces, my mom pulls us into a tight hug and hold us in her warm hug for about 5 minutes. Weeks went by where I didn't see my dad that often plus not getting to get to him on the phone as well. Still not understanding a lot of this divorce, my mommy one day comes home with some empty boxes and starts putting things into these boxes, that seem to be mostly daddy. As she is packing I ask, “ what are you doing with all of daddy's stuff is he coming home to get all of his things?” Mommy then replies, “ yes daddy is coming to pick up his things but we also have to pack all our things because we are moving to Nana and papa's house.” With confusion I ran out of the bedroom and went to go find my brother and sister when I found them I stated, “ Mommy said that we need to start packing we are going to Nana and Papa's house.” My brother and sister seemed to know what was going on because I already saw boxes packed in their room. Months later when we were all settled at my nana and papa's house my dad kept calling my mom asking to see my brother, my sister, and I, and they were making all these arrangements to see him. So when everything was arranged we started seeing him every Wednesday after school to 8 and Saturday from 9 to about 3. It seemed to be fun at first being my brother, my sister, and I were getting all these gifts and getting whatever we wanted at the store. Well this continued for weeks and weeks and my brother and sister caught on but me i grew confused because they started not wanting as many things anymore. My sister then comes home one Wednesday complaining about how daddy had brought a girl to that night's visit and tells my mom, “ This girl named Kristin was at Logans with us the whole time and it turned out to be where she works, who is she mommy?” My mom replies, “ I really don’t know who she is I just know that who your dad is staying with right now.” Years went by and my brother and sister started growing old and getting tired of what my dad was going when we would see him and especially for my sister she was done with it and started to show hatred towards him. I am now 15 years old and I barely get to see him that often and when I do see him I can't even have a nice conversation with him because he don't know me as well as my mom does. I know that my mom would have more answers to my questions then if I went to my dad.

Josh--February 29th

On the twelfth of April, Isaac’s life would be altered forever. It was a rather peaceful summer day. There was a slight breeze and clear skies overlooking the city of Detroit. Isaac Jones, fifteen at the time, was walking home from the local high school when he heard a loud noise coming not too far from his home. Isaac rushed to see what the commotion was about and saw there had been a car accident. Both cars were in terrible shape as well as the drivers he assumed. Then, Isaac’s compassion turned to fear. He had realized that one of the cars was his father’s. Isaac began to get closer but stopped. He wondered if he really wanted to see what horrendous scene may lie in front of him. It was too late to decide. The EMT’s had begun pulling both drivers out of the car. Unfortunately, it was then clear, his father had passed. Isaac’s father, Daniel Jones, was pronounced dead at the scene. Isaac had never felt such immense sadness but couldn’t even comprehend how his mother will feel. When Mrs. Jones was told of what had happened, she was devastated. She and Daniel had been married for twenty years. How could she go on without him? The answer is, she couldn’t. At least not peacefully. Mrs. Jones turned to an alternative to carry on with life. Drugs. Although, this proved to be a grave mistake. Mrs. Jones became so overwhelmed in drugs that all of other aspects of life ceased to exist. The addiction soon overtook Isaac’s spot on her priority list. Fortunately, Isaac was a very strong young man and did not let his father’s death nor his mother’s addiction impact him negatively. Isaac understood that with his mother now overtaken by drugs, he was alone. Isaac had no other siblings for help nor relatives who cared. Everyday Isaac thought of the stories his father had told him before he passed. Stories of success. His father was a very successful lawyer and knew his practice very well. He too dealt with downfalls early in life, yet overcame them. This gave Isaac hope and determination to succeed. Isaac decided that in order to succeed he must finish high school first. His grades were better than average but not outstanding. Isaac thought many hours about his future and how it will all play out. With grades like his, he would be able to get into a junior college but not much more. Restless nights began to eat away at him but somehow, he knew he wasn’t alone. Sophomore year passed, then his junior year and finally he began his senior year of high school. He had just turned eighteen when something odd had appeared in the mail. It was a letter concerning his father’s death. Isaac did not know why they would send anything since his father’s passing was over three years ago. What the letter entailed would prove to be a true miracle. February 29th was the day everything changed. Isaac’s father had given Isaac a gift from beyond the grave. The letter told of a large sum of money which was to be given to Isaac when he turned eighteen. Isaac now had a wide variety of options for his future. Isaac had decided that he would go to junior college the following fall. He eventually graduated at the top of his class. Although Isaac’s first goal had been achieved, there was many left to conquer. He applied and was accepted to an Ivy League college that excelled in law. Here began part two of his miraculous journey. Isaac struggled some with the difficult classes but was able to obtain a master’s degree in law. Finally, his goal of great success was in reach. Now Isaac could not only match his father’s legend, but surpass it. After the first few weeks of starting up his law firm, it began to prosper. Everyone in the Detroit area came to him when needing legal aid. After nearly twenty years he could expand his business much greater than imaginable, but decided not to. Isaac had decided to give back for the greater good instead. Isaac opened a youth center in his father’s name to help children like him, who are struggling. The youth center offered tutoring, counseling, as well as just a place to stay after school. Isaac’s new hope was that someday, someone from his youth center will surpass him and overcome odds as he once had.

Chris--Rooted Reality

Sweat began to drip from my forehead as I laid still on the hard, weathered oak boards. The sounds of chains and shackles rung throughout my ears, not once ceasing. Screaming – screaming persisted, as if it had the intent to penetrate the deepest extremities of my soul. Only then, was I able to open my eyes. “Where am I? How did I get here? Who are all these people?” I questioned myself. The sweat continued, profusely, and my attention was quickly diverted to a violent burning sensation on my back side. I reached for the area, and squirmed as my finger tips made contact with my skin. I looked at my hand, and froze in awe at the spectacle – blood. My confusion was extinguished when the man revealed himself. He descended from his dwellings above us; his ivory complexion radiated and his tongue produced a sound so unfamiliar. At this point I only feared that I would have to endure a life like those featured in the tales of the new land. The man signaled for all of us to approach him. He conducted a hasty examination to each body that passed, enforcing his leather whip with even the slightest acts on noncompliance. He took his time with me however. I waited in front of him as he stared at me. Minutes later, I found myself struggling to stand up as I absorbed round after round of the ox’s hide. This was the last of my personal account. What followed was blackness, eternal blackness. I awoke and found myself in a different setting. The wood was replaced by asphalt, and the noises by hand gun projectiles. The sweat again dripped from my forehead and the burning sensation returned as I rested on the ground. In the distance, I saw a man – the same man I had seen before, now decorated in uniform. He drew a weapon from his side and aimed it at me. At the sound of the explosion, my eyes fell shut and the blackness reappeared. Seventeen years ago, I awoke for the final time. My third attempt at life would prove to serve as less of a challenge; at least this is what I had hoped. I, like most of my fellows, have been directly affected by acts of racism and prejudice right in the community I thought I could call my home. What troubles me more however, is knowing that I will never be adequate or even good enough to compete with my white counterpart. Being born as a black male has made me subject to lower wages, increased encounters with law enforcement, and a heighten likelihood of being killed. My reality has been defined by the fact that I don't resemble the man who oppressed me; my dark complexion is institutionally and implicitly regarded as inferior to his ivory complexion. This truth remains far less than a threat to me though. I know that while the man may rob me of my societal power, he may never strip me of the greater power that resides in my mind and soul.

Justin--"Cliff's Revelation"

”I want to go on a nice peaceful walk” he said but he did not fully comprehend what would happen as a consequence of his actions. You see Cliff was always a happy-go-lucky kind of a guy. He was not perfect mind you but he knew how to have a good time. While Cliff went on a walk outside of his suburban home he found himself at a busy intersection. When the signal said to walk, he walked but then suddenly an SUV went roaring down the intersection nearly hitting him. Besides his freighting near death experience Cliff realized something at this moment. There were at least 40 cars in this intersection and this was but one intersection and there are millions of intersections like this one all across the world. He was but one person in this large world. He thought to himself “How many other people have gone on this exact same walk as I and nearly got hit by a car?” He figured it had at least been a dozen for he lived in a lively city. It was then he realized how insignificant he really was in the grand scheme of things and how pointless his life was for he was just doing what everyone else had been doing. It was then Cliff decided to be a superhero. However he quickly realized this would be impossible because superheroes nor radioactive induced superpowers were possible in the world he lived in. He needed to find a way to fill the void in his heart of insignificance. He could temporarily feel better by eating some chocolate cake or watching a good anime but the feeling always returned back to him. Cliff then decided to take ballet classes but no matter how hard he tried, no matter how hard he practiced he realized he would never make it into ballet performer agency. This was of course because Cliff did not have the correct figure for that trade and thus had to seek meaning in his life elsewhere. It was then he discovered a universal truth of the universe. “All the cool things in life aren’t as cool as you might think” he said with unabashed pride. Cliff then set upon a quest to find something worthy of his attention. Cliff was rethinking his entire life and what he had done with it. He realized all of the good times he had did have significance, he had not totally wasted his time because he enjoyed himself and that was enough for him. It was then Cliff discovered another universal truth of the universe. “As long as you’re having fun you can’t go wrong.” So he followed his heart to find himself a worthy goal. He found himself on another walk for Cliff enjoyed walking. This is where Cliff happened upon his local ice cream shop he just had to go in for Cliff loved ice cream. It was then where he found his calling in life, what he was put on this world to do. It was to scoop ice cream for all of the little kids to enjoy. But it was then reality hit Cliff, and it was that he could not survive off of an ice cream scooper kind of a wage. It was getting late and Cliff had become saddened by the prospect that he could not become a professional ice cream scooper. But before Cliff left the Ice cream shop he asked one of the professional ice cream scoopers “What makes a good Ice Cream a great Ice Cream?” The ice cream scooper was shocked at the question but then laughed and said “Why boy that is of course for you to decide, an ice cream is only as great as you make it.” Cliff was astounded at the response and said “What if my ice cream isn’t worthy of greatness in your eyes?” The Ice Cream scooper looked surprised and then said “Boy for as long as you enjoy the ice cream and find it great why should anything else matter?” Cliff hugged the man and wrote him a note before quickly leaving the ice cream shop with a new determination. Cliff’s ginormous void of insignificance had suddenly been filled he knew how he should live now. He went rushing back to his home and began to cross the same intersection as before. The same SUV came screaming across the intersection but this time it did not miss Cliff, for Cliff did not look both ways. Poor Cliff who had just filled the void of his heart of its insignificance, had died. His friends and family had come to his funeral and so did the ice cream scooper man. When the ice cream scooper man presented the note Cliff had wrote to him to the family they were astounded and then read Cliff’s words aloud. “The true folly of feeling insignificant is that it just doesn’t exist, we decide ourselves what we value and how we spend our lives. As long as you are true to your heart and are having a good time you are significant and what others are doing or what you are potentially missing out on shouldn’t matter. I understand now what makes a good ice cream a great ice cream.” The crowd seemed surprised but the the ice cream man knew what he meant by these words.

Creeah--Bare no Malice on Winters past

It was that rainy night in the dark December about one year and a month or so ago, when I was as usual alone in a place where reality meets insanity. It was a grimace December that year not one of Christmas carolers knocking at my chamber door but one that made me sad and dreary how I missed you mom how this thought left me ever sore. I was remembering the days when we would go to Nana’s house and bake tables full of cookies, laugh, and be merry but my heart broken soul knew it was never more. It was the third Saturday in December when we would normally carry out our Christmas tradition of cookies and cheer but the sad truth was you weren’t here. I woke up expecting you to call me downstairs to begin the journey to Nana’s but no call… then as I began to get frustrated that you weren’t awake, I remembered you were here no more. I began to cry so hard my eyes hit a fog because only god knows what I would give to say “Yes mom I’m coming ” just one more time. To this day I wonder why I woke up expecting to see you there. I asked god to give me a sign symbolizing that you were okay. I went through the next year wondering… I slipped into a depression that carried through seamlessly from season to season thinking about how might I melt away that bitter winter frost. Time continued life went on and about a month ago Dad and I went to the east coast for winter break. We traveled through Maine Laughing and feeling as though we’d never been happy before. I found a pure purple shell unlike any other it held me in comfort and gave me peace at every move. The shell meant more to me than life itself for it symbolized all the wisdom you, mom, had passed onto me it was in very moment I was able to forgive winters past.

Neida--What is mercy?

One may ask does mercy even exist We live in a world where the last thing we even think when we see all the distress, all the pain in the world, Is mercy.The saying goes..."those who are merciful will be shown mercy." If it was that easy, wouldn't we have world peace? The secret to achieve a world of peace, a world of joy, depends on you. We were born with the ability to choose to do good or to do evil. That's just already destined in our books since we were born, but many times we think that going the “good route” is just too difficult rather than easy. No one ever said that being a Saint is possible with a mere snap of the fingers. The truth is we have to strive to do good, and in doing good we receive great things. See, the decision to be a merciful person goes hand and hand with being on the good route, the good path of life. Although it is difficult, in the end it serves a greater purpose, what we do in life is a model to others. Like a a game of Dominoes, one simple action can inspire others to do the same, in hope of a positive reaction. We as humans, we get hurt easily and depending on the circumstance, the hardest thing to do is to forgive those who have hurt us, or has hurt our loved ones. Learning to overcome the hatred or the pain towards the person is the first step in being a merciful person. Huge events such as The San Bernardino shooting which took place earlier this month is a perfect example in how one can show mercy. As we all know, early in December, December second to be precise, a calm busy city, stood silent for one day. Through fear and pain, in waiting for news of who survived or to understand what really happened in that facility, being quite was the only thing the citizens of San Bernardino could do. It wasn’t too long ago, and the memory of the shooting will be forever in our memories. We will remember what we were doing the moment we found out what happened, some of us feeling the sense of relief that our family members were away from that danger or that they reported they were okay. It wasn’t until the second day, that second day, the third day of December was the hardest. Those who were in shock realized what happened. The news came out, we found out about the shooters, we learned about the Victims and their families. It was towards the end of the day, I had an event at church, and I sat down at the pews in the church, the lights went dim and one light illuminated the altar. Pictures were displayed on the screen, unfamiliar faces were displayed until I recognized one. I never had the privilege to meet this man but I knew his wife. His name was Damien Meins, his wife, Trina Meins, was the principal of the Sacred Heart Parish school. As our the pastor of our parish announced the tragedy, he shared a couple of things that impacted me the most. He told us that Trina sent her appreciation to us, as we prayed for her and her family, but she also asked us to pray for those lost souls who committed this crime. Those simple words, are the strongest most powerful words a person can do to be merciful. Putting myself in Trina’s shoes, I could imagine myself filled with pain and hatred towards that couple who killed my husband, the man whom I loved, leaving me alone with two daughters. I don't know how she and her family is at the moment, how they will spend their Christmas. Nevertheless, she is truly an example to us all, her courage is an inspiration. She may or may not be able to truly forgive them at this moment in time but to ask for prayers for them is a start. Mercy, a simple but difficult task, depending on the situation. In Trina’s case, forgiveness is an important step in walking in the righteous path of good. There may be darkness in the world, but one person, the person who chooses to do good can truly make a difference, and with that difference it is a small but huge step in piecing back the disorder of this world. In this upcoming year of 2016, in order for us to build a successful and peaceful future, we are called to be merciful. Religious or not, we are all highly capable of giving a helping hand to others, feeding the needy, being peaceful to your neighbor, and simply showing love to others. You make a difference, and sometimes we all need to be reminded that simple acts, lead to greater things.

Brittany--The very best Bhristmas of all

Now don't get me wrong, I'm no scrooge or anything, I actually really like Christmas. There's just one little mishap that the universe must've goofed up on. My birthday is on Christmas! Yes, ladies and gents I was born on the same day everyone looks forward to all year. The same day people expect a giant "jolly" man with a white beard and questionable fashion sense to somehow fit in a minuscule chimney and deliver presents. Let's remember people, those poor little boys in Europe during the 1700s couldn't even fit in the chimneys, much less survive from ash that clouded their lungs. I'm sorry, I'm scrooging again. It's just that people hype up Christmas birthdays. All my friends think it's so cool, but little do they know. For example, say I want to plan a party. I either have to plan the party in November or just settle for "the birthday song" during the family Christmas dinner. Even when I used to plan my parties in November attendance was still low. "Sorry were going on vacation", my friends would say. "Sorry, my family is over and I can't leave", they also said. But really let us never forget the greatest misfortune of them all. *Cue drumroll*, the combined birthday and Christmas gift, currently known as the Bhristmas present. "Sweetie, here's a gift card for your birthday present but, guess what! It doubles as a Christmas present too"! Memories of all the excuses rushed through my head. I can definitely say my best friend Jas is the only one who understands me. I mean she says I need to be more grateful and be less of a realist, but other than that she's the only one who separates my b-day gift from my Christmas gift. She will always be appreciated for that. Anyways, speaking of Jas, I'm about to meet up with her. She said she has a unique surprise waiting for me and that I will cherish it forever. I just hope it's not those homemade coconut brownies she made for me last year, because I can definitely tell you my stomach and buttock did not cherish those at all. So, Jas arrives at my house with a brightly wrapped box and says hop in her car. She starts driving to the outskirts of town but, I have no idea why. The houses look rundown and there are plenty of rugged trailers. I'm trying not to question her because she's my best friend and I trust her. We arrive at a very tattered looking trailer. Jas and I get out the car and she starts knocking on the door. She tells me to hold my present. I'm confused because, I could've left my present in the car. A frail young woman and her two children come to the door and immediately start crying. In this moment, like a reflex, I handed them my birthday present. Jas hugs me right after and then began to talk to the family. I just stand there watching their faces glow with illuminant expression. This was by far the very best Bhristmas gift of all.

Michael--Press ENTER to try again

So, this is it? The world around me moved as if in slow motion. A small face of disbelief with wide open eyes and mouth glanced at me. My girlfriend who I just pushed was looking at me, mouthing words at me as the world was muted. I looked to my right and looked at the bright lights coming my way as everything felt so surreal. It wasn't the kind of light at the end of the tunnel when someone passes. It was the kind of light from a 16 wheel semi truck speeding on the road heading straight for you. Before I knew it the world around me looked black; there was no light only silence. Out of nowhere the world that was once black, radiated something white in the distance. The letters approached and stopped in front of me and read "GAME OVER" in big white letters. I was speechless, “what in the world is this?” I thought to myself. Suddenly smaller white letters started to appear in the form of a list. I couldn't read what it said until the list slowly moved closer. It read CELL# 40754029000 followed by moving text that read "LIES: 24,836.” I had no idea what this random text meant until the whole list starting moving down slowly with random labels. It was only in the middle of the block of text I realized these were things I had done in my 17 years of living. The list showed how many words I spoke, how many steps I have taken, how many friends I have made and lost. I stared at the moving block of text for what felt like hours until it came near the end. What was this and why was it happening, was life some game where everyone is just a number? The final statistic that was labeled on the list was “LIVES SAVED: 1.” I then remembered what got me into this whole mess and felt like crying. Was I stuck in this dark void forever, only to be accompanied by bright text that floated in air? Out of the blackness more text along with a medium sized black and white button appeared in front of my face. The text read “Press ENTER to try again” and on the button was the word “ENTER” in the same white lettering from before. Did this mean I would be born again in the same world with the same life? Would I be born into a different life? Would I be able to retain my memories from before? A multitude of questions rushed through my head and I was completely lost on what to do. After contemplating the many possible outcomes, I realized the only thing I could do was press the button. I took a moment to gather my thoughts and took a deep breath and slowly pressed the button then waited. Nothing happened at first but out of nowhere a quick tunnel of light approached me and the black world around me started to fade away.

October Writers!!!!!

Our Blog has been updated. Check out the twelve October Featured Writers. We have a variety this month with five Flash Fiction, four Abstract, and one each of the Personal Narrative, the How To and the Book Review. There is some great reading for this month, so please, enjoy the selections. I also want to apologize for some of the formatting problems. Some pieces may be hard to read for there were a few problems with margins and paragraph breaks. I am sorry for this and I will try to rectify the pieces if I can. Your assignment: Read ALL twelve pieces. Choose at least five to leave comments. Make an effort to leave comments for each of the genres. Remember, you can always leave comments for ALL pieces if you wish, but you don't have to do so. My October Writers: Keep checking the blog and watch the comments show up for your piece. You, twelve, can choose your three favorite pieces and leave comments for those only. Remember to write helpful feedback for the writers. Tell them what you LOVE, ENJOY or find INTERESTING about their piece and give a reason. Say why you feel that way. ALL comments are due next Monday, November 2. I'm giving you plenty of time to complete this month's assignment. Now, Go Read!!!!!

Kayla S.--Man on Fire

He dismally made his way down the street that he had mindlessly walked so many times before, the suitcase containing all he possessed swaying lightly at his left knee. All of those who happened to be outside paused to watch him with their eyes reflecting a blaze of heat and those who were not, peered at him through their windows with envy. As he continued he could feel the warmth through the thin shirt, if that was still what it was to be considered, that barely lined his upper body. That evening the wind blew the coldest it ever had in his small town of Suffocation but he had taken no notice. The townspeople, no matter where they were, couldn’t help but observe the smell of something burning. Children in parks, men at work, women in grocery stores, everyone alike lifted their noses toward the sky in response to the contaminated air. Fueled by ambition his feet needed no instruction and kept him on his journey down the street. His eyes never looked anywhere but straight ahead and his arms never strayed from their established rhythm. He aspired to meet new people, see new places, and struggle with new ideas. In this small, sickening place nothing like this would ever happen but he was determined to accomplish more. In a town where everyone looked and thought the same he was confined to the amount of knowledge resembling the area of a playpen so, with this in mind, each atom of his chemical make-up propelled him forward. He knew that if he remained, his dreams would be nothing but a pacing fancy of the mind and he could take it no more. His passion had set him on fire.

Marissa--Jane Doe

My head hurts from all the complaining patients and their endless needs. What about my needs?  I’m ​  hungry. ​ I’m  ​ thirsty. ​ I  ​ want my pillow adjusted. I never knew bags under my eyes could be  permanent until now.  “Lily, you’re needed in room 210.” The high pitch voice of my boss sends angry chills  down my spine. If you look up fake in the dictionary, her name would be written in bold letters,  Miranda Burton. ​I imagine a picture of her showcasing her poorly lined lips and atrociously  long nails. I chuckle at the thought.  “Copy that, Burty.” I salute her. Two things she hates that I do. She grimaces at me  before turning away. I swiftly grab the chart before entering the room that smells of plastic  gloves and antiseptics. Written in the name spot is ‘Jane Doe,’ which I have been seeing a lot  recently. I see the burns on the woman's face, and instantly feel sympathy for her. There’s no  way they will be able to fix that.   I gather all the equipment I need to clean the burns, softly dabbing the cotton balls on her  skin. Even though she is asleep, I can almost feel her pain as I clean the torn flesh. I read on the  chart she should be waking up soon. I’m hoping I’ll be done before that. My hopes turn to dust  as her eyes begin to slowly open.   When she sees me, her eyes widen and she grabs hold of my hand pulling me closer to  her. I back away but she’s very strong, and despite her wounds she doesn’t let go. She is trying to  speak, but all that I hear are muffled words as if duct tape were over her mouth.   “Ma’am it’s alright. I’m here to help.” My attempts to soothe her fail. I look into her  swollen eyes and an odd familiar feeling washes over me. I reach for the red button behind the  bed to call for another nurse. Not a moment passes when she arrives and carefully pries the  woman's hand from mine. As the other nurse, Isobel, attempts to calm the woman, I inject a  sedative into her IV. The woman's wild eyes calm and her black and blue eyelids fall shut.  “Poor lady.” Isobel shakes her head, staring at the now sleeping body in front of us.   “It’s life.” I say, shrugging my shoulders. Saying this is the only way I keep myself from  having a mental breakdown. I like to think that it helps.     I'm sitting at lunch when I see Burty headed towards me with her giant lunch bag. If I  have to sit through another lunch with her I might lose it.   Burty sits down next to me and without skipping a beat she’s going on about her  grandkids and how she can’t wait to see them. I know one thing I can’t wait for, lunch to be over.    My pager startles me when it starts buzzing uncontrollably. It reads that it's an emergency  in room 210. I shuffle out from behind the receptionist's desk, and rush to the room with the  unknown woman. The sound of sobbing and nurses yelling stings my ears as I get closer. I enter  to see three nurses all trying to calm this one, hopeless woman.   "What's going on?" I shout over the noise, meanwhile trying to control my racing heart. I  have to tell myself not to panic, otherwise I'll only add to the mess taking place in front of me.   "She's in pain, but she won't say where." One of them replies. I roll my eyes and push  past them.  "Yelling at her won't help." I shoot them each a glare before turning to the woman. She  grabs my hand like it's the last thing she'll do, and because of her desperation I don't make any  attempt to pull away. I look into her eyes, ignoring the familiar feeling, "I need you to calm  down. I know it hurts, but I can't help unless you calm down." I say in my calmest voice. It  works, but sobs still escape her lips and she hasn't let go of my hand. "I'm going to help. I  promise." With these words she slowly nods her head and her sobs stop. "Okay, don't try and  speak. Just nod your head, can you do that?" She nods. "Do you think you are able to write?" She  nods again.  I let out a breath before I pick up the clipboard containing all of her information. I place  the pen in her weak hand and the paper underneath it. "Can you write your name?" She is barely  able to press down on the paper, but she does enough to where I can see the letters M­O­M. This  doesn't make sense.   The woman's eyes become wide and the machines start blaring with their beeping noises.  The nurses, still in the room from before, rush to help me save this woman's life.   In the commotion of all the nurses doing different tasks to figure out the source of the  complication, one of them moves her gown exposing her left shoulder. My heart sinks.  I see the small tattoo and the familiarity of her eyes, her desperate clinging onto my hand,  and the letters written on the paper cause tears to spill out of my eyes.   This is my mom.   The beeping continues, growing louder and louder along with the orders my colleagues  are shouting at each other.   My mom's eyes shut, and the machines are still blaring. This time a different sound then  seconds before.  It's now steadily humming, and the room falls dead silent. I stare in disbelief before  putting my hands on her chest and pushing, trying to bring my mother's still body back to life. I  feel like I'm in a dream when the nurses pull me away from her. Everything starts to move  slower.  In an instant, everything changed.