Free write!
Skippy ran as fast as she could through the tall grass in the field behind her house. She loved the feeling of the wind against her face and the freedom she felt when she could just break free and make her muscles work until they burned. She could see home in the distance, so streaked toward it, running faster and faster the closer she got. Abruptly the tall fieldgrass became the short, close cut lawn of home, and she slowed, panting for breath as her heart beat so hard inside her chest, she could hear it in her ears.
She wandered to the old apple tree and flopped to the ground beneath it, fully in the shade of the giant. She stretched slowly, her muscles still tingling from the free, frantic running, and laid down in the grass, the cool breeze ruffling her golden locks gently. She sighed deeply and closed her eyes, sniffing the clean, crisp summer air and enjoying the feeling of her home.
Just as she began to drift to sleep, she heard a car door slam shut, and her head popped up. "Jake is home!" she thought as she sprang to her feet. In mere seconds, she was in a sprint again, dashing through the backyard, around the clothesline, past the small garden, and around the east side of the house. As soon as she turned the second corner, she saw him. He had walked from his car to the mailbox, but was already strolling back up the driveway toward the house, humming soflty as he flipped through the bills and junk mail from that day's delivery.
He looked up and when his eyes met hers, his mouth stretched wide into a smile, which only made her run faster, harder, to him. "Come 'ere girl! That's it!" Jake chimed as Skippy leaped up on her hind legs, her front paws panted squarely on his broad chest. He chuckled as he scratched her behind the ears, patting her side with his other hand. "That's my good girl," he cooed to her. "Yes, that's my love."
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
{EPS} Creative Writing - Jumble Story
Students named 4 numbers, each to which a setting, character, place and situation were assigned.
Character: a recent high school graduate
Setting: the porch of an old farmhouse
Time: sometime in December
Situation: someone feels like giving up
JennyLee couldn't believe she had already been out of high school for seven months now. She nudged the floor of the porch with her toes, making the swing sway forward and back slowly and rhythmically. She closed her eyes and laid her head back, hugging herself tightly, trying to fight off the bite of the winter air. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, her body relaxing as she did.
The day after graduation she had come to see her Grammy. It had been far too long since she had been here. It seemed just yesterday that she was young and spent every summer with Grammy and Poppy in their old farmhouse in the Kansas prairies. She loved visiting. Grammy and Poppy would spoil her shamelessly, though they had their own way of getting her to help with chores around the farm.
It had been four or five years since those days, though. As she hit her teenage years, she lost her appreciation for her grandparents. She would have much rathered hang out with her friends and swoon over boys in her classes. She kept in touch with Grammy and Poppy of course, and she would see them at Thanksgiving and Christmas every year.
Poppy passed away shortly after JennyLee graduated though, and she was shocked into the realization that her grandparents wouldn't always be there. Shortly after, she packed up most of her clothes and cosmetics, a few books and CDs, and Franklin, the teddy bear Grammy gave her for her 8th birthday. She loaded it all into the car her dad bought her for graduation, and took off to Kansas. She;d been here ever since, enjoying her time with Grammy, helping her around the house and just spending time with her, talking and learning from her.
Christmas was coming soon, though, and the pair of ladies had decorated the old family farmhouse to the nines, decking every hall and hanging every decoration they could find. JennyLee smiled to herself as she thought about it. She loved Christmas and the time with family it brought. As she daydreamed, imagining how this year's Christmas would be, she couldn't help but frown.
Grammy had changed since JennyLee was a little kid. She had always been so cheerful and happy, optimistic and the one everyone turned to for help and counsel. Not anymore, though. She seemed tired, JennyLee thought, more tired that she had ever seen Grammy. She moved slower, talked slower, did less, and most noticably, smiled less. JennyLee's frown deepened as she stood from the swing and gathered the blanket around her, then went inside.
The warmth and glow from the fireplace lifted JennyLee's spirits for a moment. She had always loved a flickering flame to sit in front of. Quickly, though, her thoughts returned to her Grammy. She tossed the blanket onto the couch as she passed through the living room and made her way into the kitchen where she found Grammy at the counter, stirring something sweet-smelling in a huge glass bowl. JennyLee stopped and watched Grammy for a few moments, examing the faded blue eyes, the creases around her eyes and mouth, the slight frown on her face. Grammy looked so sad.
JennyLee walked to Grammy and hugged her suddenly, clinging to her tightly. Grammy stopped her task and put her hands over JennyLee's and rubbed them softly. "Babygirl, what's wrong? Is everything ok?"
JennyLee took a deep breath and pulled away from Grammy slowly, letting the elder woman turn to face her granddaughter. She looked Grammy in the eye and her mind raced, trying to decide how to phrase her thoughts. "Grammy, I am worried about you. I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but you're so different. It worries me. Are you sick or something?"
Grammy shook her head slowly and looked down. Wearily she lifted her hand to her face, covering her eyes as her shoulders slumped. With a heavy sigh she looked up again and smiled weakly at JennyLee. "Oh, babygirl. I am so sorry you've been worrying. I wish you had come to me earlier.
"To tell the truth, I'm lonely. I miss your Poppy. I don't know how to live without him. Oh, I don't want to burden you with this. You're too young and should be carefree," Grammy lifted her hand to brush JennyLee's cheek softly.
JennyLee held Grammy's hand, leaning her cheek into the weathered hand, then she gently tugged Grammy's hand, guiding her to the table. The pair sat next to each other, still holding hands, as JennyLee said, "Grammy, you're one of my best friends. You can tell me anything. I promise."
Grammy sighed again heavily, as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. JennyLee could see the tears form in Grammy's eyes as they began to turn red. With a weak, shuddering voice she began. "Honey, this is going to be hard for you to understand, and that isn't your fault. It's just that you're so young and have so much ahead of you. But when you've spent 57 years with someone, waking up with them, eating with them, shopping with them, going to bed with them...well, when they're gone, there's just a hole there, and you don't know what to do to fill it.
"Losing your Poppy has made me realize that I'm at the end of my life. And now that I don't have him to spend the rest of my life with, I guess I'm just tired. I don't have anything to look forward to each day. I feel a little bit like I just wanna give up."
"Oh Grammy!" JennyLee sprung from her seat and embraced her Grammy tightly. "Please don't say that Grammy! Please! I can't even imagine what my life would be like without you! Please don't talk like that!"
JennyLee began to weep softly as Grammy pulled her into her lap, snuggling her like when she was a little girl. Softly the two women rocked gently, both weeping for their own reasons, clinging to one another as if holding on to dear life itself.
"Babygirl, I am so sorry. I didn't want to worry you or burden you," Grammy said. "It's ok. I promise everything will be ok. I just miss your Poppy is all. Especially now with Christmas 'round the corner. All I can think about is your Poppy lugging the Christmas tree up the steps and everyone coming together. It just makes me sad that he's not here for it."
JennyLee kissed her Grammy's cheek softly and slid from her lap to kneel on the floor at Grammy's feet, her hands grasping Grammy's in her lap. She looked up and with her voice full of love, JennyLee whispered, "Grammy, I love you so much. And I've been thinking about it since I came to visit. If it's ok with you, I'd really like to move in here with you. I could find a job in town and take some college classes online. You wouldn't be lonely, and I could help you out around the house. We could do so much together! I want you to teach me how to quilt, and I have always dreamed of helping you in your garden again, like when I was little.
"Oh Grammy, please say I can come live with you."
Grammy's eye flooded with tears as she leaned down quickly to pull her granddaughter to her. She squeezed her tightly and rubbed her back. "Oh honey, I can't imagine anything I would love more!"
That Christmas was one of the best the family had had. And although Poppy's chair sat empty through the revelry, JennyLee, Grammy and the rest of the family used the time together to plan get-togethers, family vacations, and Grammy and JennyLee's future. For several Christmases to follow, the family gathered in the old farmhouse. Springtime always found them spending a week in the mountains; the beach was a favorite vacation spot for them all in summer; and trips to camp in the forest were how they spent a week each fall.
When Grammy's time to join Poppy came, many, many years later, she left the old farmhouse to JennyLee. Determined to honor and uphold her grandparents' legacy, she welcoed her family back each year at Christmas, and without realizing it, they always left Grammy and Poppy's favorite chairs empty, as if the couple would join them for their celebrations.
Character: a recent high school graduate
Setting: the porch of an old farmhouse
Time: sometime in December
Situation: someone feels like giving up
JennyLee couldn't believe she had already been out of high school for seven months now. She nudged the floor of the porch with her toes, making the swing sway forward and back slowly and rhythmically. She closed her eyes and laid her head back, hugging herself tightly, trying to fight off the bite of the winter air. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, her body relaxing as she did.
The day after graduation she had come to see her Grammy. It had been far too long since she had been here. It seemed just yesterday that she was young and spent every summer with Grammy and Poppy in their old farmhouse in the Kansas prairies. She loved visiting. Grammy and Poppy would spoil her shamelessly, though they had their own way of getting her to help with chores around the farm.
It had been four or five years since those days, though. As she hit her teenage years, she lost her appreciation for her grandparents. She would have much rathered hang out with her friends and swoon over boys in her classes. She kept in touch with Grammy and Poppy of course, and she would see them at Thanksgiving and Christmas every year.
Poppy passed away shortly after JennyLee graduated though, and she was shocked into the realization that her grandparents wouldn't always be there. Shortly after, she packed up most of her clothes and cosmetics, a few books and CDs, and Franklin, the teddy bear Grammy gave her for her 8th birthday. She loaded it all into the car her dad bought her for graduation, and took off to Kansas. She;d been here ever since, enjoying her time with Grammy, helping her around the house and just spending time with her, talking and learning from her.
Christmas was coming soon, though, and the pair of ladies had decorated the old family farmhouse to the nines, decking every hall and hanging every decoration they could find. JennyLee smiled to herself as she thought about it. She loved Christmas and the time with family it brought. As she daydreamed, imagining how this year's Christmas would be, she couldn't help but frown.
Grammy had changed since JennyLee was a little kid. She had always been so cheerful and happy, optimistic and the one everyone turned to for help and counsel. Not anymore, though. She seemed tired, JennyLee thought, more tired that she had ever seen Grammy. She moved slower, talked slower, did less, and most noticably, smiled less. JennyLee's frown deepened as she stood from the swing and gathered the blanket around her, then went inside.
The warmth and glow from the fireplace lifted JennyLee's spirits for a moment. She had always loved a flickering flame to sit in front of. Quickly, though, her thoughts returned to her Grammy. She tossed the blanket onto the couch as she passed through the living room and made her way into the kitchen where she found Grammy at the counter, stirring something sweet-smelling in a huge glass bowl. JennyLee stopped and watched Grammy for a few moments, examing the faded blue eyes, the creases around her eyes and mouth, the slight frown on her face. Grammy looked so sad.
JennyLee walked to Grammy and hugged her suddenly, clinging to her tightly. Grammy stopped her task and put her hands over JennyLee's and rubbed them softly. "Babygirl, what's wrong? Is everything ok?"
JennyLee took a deep breath and pulled away from Grammy slowly, letting the elder woman turn to face her granddaughter. She looked Grammy in the eye and her mind raced, trying to decide how to phrase her thoughts. "Grammy, I am worried about you. I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but you're so different. It worries me. Are you sick or something?"
Grammy shook her head slowly and looked down. Wearily she lifted her hand to her face, covering her eyes as her shoulders slumped. With a heavy sigh she looked up again and smiled weakly at JennyLee. "Oh, babygirl. I am so sorry you've been worrying. I wish you had come to me earlier.
"To tell the truth, I'm lonely. I miss your Poppy. I don't know how to live without him. Oh, I don't want to burden you with this. You're too young and should be carefree," Grammy lifted her hand to brush JennyLee's cheek softly.
JennyLee held Grammy's hand, leaning her cheek into the weathered hand, then she gently tugged Grammy's hand, guiding her to the table. The pair sat next to each other, still holding hands, as JennyLee said, "Grammy, you're one of my best friends. You can tell me anything. I promise."
Grammy sighed again heavily, as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. JennyLee could see the tears form in Grammy's eyes as they began to turn red. With a weak, shuddering voice she began. "Honey, this is going to be hard for you to understand, and that isn't your fault. It's just that you're so young and have so much ahead of you. But when you've spent 57 years with someone, waking up with them, eating with them, shopping with them, going to bed with them...well, when they're gone, there's just a hole there, and you don't know what to do to fill it.
"Losing your Poppy has made me realize that I'm at the end of my life. And now that I don't have him to spend the rest of my life with, I guess I'm just tired. I don't have anything to look forward to each day. I feel a little bit like I just wanna give up."
"Oh Grammy!" JennyLee sprung from her seat and embraced her Grammy tightly. "Please don't say that Grammy! Please! I can't even imagine what my life would be like without you! Please don't talk like that!"
JennyLee began to weep softly as Grammy pulled her into her lap, snuggling her like when she was a little girl. Softly the two women rocked gently, both weeping for their own reasons, clinging to one another as if holding on to dear life itself.
"Babygirl, I am so sorry. I didn't want to worry you or burden you," Grammy said. "It's ok. I promise everything will be ok. I just miss your Poppy is all. Especially now with Christmas 'round the corner. All I can think about is your Poppy lugging the Christmas tree up the steps and everyone coming together. It just makes me sad that he's not here for it."
JennyLee kissed her Grammy's cheek softly and slid from her lap to kneel on the floor at Grammy's feet, her hands grasping Grammy's in her lap. She looked up and with her voice full of love, JennyLee whispered, "Grammy, I love you so much. And I've been thinking about it since I came to visit. If it's ok with you, I'd really like to move in here with you. I could find a job in town and take some college classes online. You wouldn't be lonely, and I could help you out around the house. We could do so much together! I want you to teach me how to quilt, and I have always dreamed of helping you in your garden again, like when I was little.
"Oh Grammy, please say I can come live with you."
Grammy's eye flooded with tears as she leaned down quickly to pull her granddaughter to her. She squeezed her tightly and rubbed her back. "Oh honey, I can't imagine anything I would love more!"
That Christmas was one of the best the family had had. And although Poppy's chair sat empty through the revelry, JennyLee, Grammy and the rest of the family used the time together to plan get-togethers, family vacations, and Grammy and JennyLee's future. For several Christmases to follow, the family gathered in the old farmhouse. Springtime always found them spending a week in the mountains; the beach was a favorite vacation spot for them all in summer; and trips to camp in the forest were how they spent a week each fall.
When Grammy's time to join Poppy came, many, many years later, she left the old farmhouse to JennyLee. Determined to honor and uphold her grandparents' legacy, she welcoed her family back each year at Christmas, and without realizing it, they always left Grammy and Poppy's favorite chairs empty, as if the couple would join them for their celebrations.
Monday, June 25, 2012
{EPS} Creative Writing - The story behind the music
Assignment: Listen to the following song then write a story inspired by it.
Little Jenny still has to have her mommy's help to tie the ribbons on her favorite pink ballet shoes, but she knows one day, she'll be able to tie them herself. Until then, Mommy helps her tie them snug so she can dance and not worry about them slipping.
Mommy usually dances with her in their home studio. Mommy always looks so pretty in her black leotard and black satin pointe shoes. Jenny usually wears her pink leotard so it matches her favorite pink shoes. Together they spin and sway to the music box Jenny's Daddy sent to her Mommy from overseas.
Jenny remembers the day it arrived, the box wrapped in brown paper, so plain looking. But inside, oh! Jenny's breath caught as Mommy pulled from that plain old box another box wrapped in pink paper and tied with a big red bow. Daddy was away at war, but while he was gone, he never forgot his girls back home. He always sent them each something on special occasions.
This time it was Mommy's birthday. When she unwrapped the pretty package, they both ooo'ed and ahhh'ed over the music box. It was white ivory inlaid with mother-of-pearl and some other stones Jenny couldn't pronounce. On the lid was a picture of a rose on a royal blue background. It was probably the prettiest thing Jenny ever saw.
When Mommy opened the lid, the beautiful music filled the air. For a moment they just sat and listened to it together. Soon Mommy set it on the table, though, and stood to take Jenny in her arms. She swung them both around in time to the music, Jenny's head laying back as she giggled.
From that day on, they would don their ballet shoes and danced together to the box's music. Mommy would show Jenny the steps she remembered from her girlhood days of ballet classes. Jenny would do her best to mimic exactly what Mommy had done.
Sometimes the pretty music made Jenny sad, though. You see, just two days after Mommy got the pretty box with the rose on top, two men came to the front door. When Mommy opened it and saw them, she began crying, but Jenny didn't know why. Later that night, her Mimi explained to Jenny that her Daddy had died in the war. He was a hero, Mimi said.
That music never sounded as sweet anymore. But Jenny and her Mommy danced together anyway.
Little Jenny still has to have her mommy's help to tie the ribbons on her favorite pink ballet shoes, but she knows one day, she'll be able to tie them herself. Until then, Mommy helps her tie them snug so she can dance and not worry about them slipping.
Mommy usually dances with her in their home studio. Mommy always looks so pretty in her black leotard and black satin pointe shoes. Jenny usually wears her pink leotard so it matches her favorite pink shoes. Together they spin and sway to the music box Jenny's Daddy sent to her Mommy from overseas.
Jenny remembers the day it arrived, the box wrapped in brown paper, so plain looking. But inside, oh! Jenny's breath caught as Mommy pulled from that plain old box another box wrapped in pink paper and tied with a big red bow. Daddy was away at war, but while he was gone, he never forgot his girls back home. He always sent them each something on special occasions.
This time it was Mommy's birthday. When she unwrapped the pretty package, they both ooo'ed and ahhh'ed over the music box. It was white ivory inlaid with mother-of-pearl and some other stones Jenny couldn't pronounce. On the lid was a picture of a rose on a royal blue background. It was probably the prettiest thing Jenny ever saw.
When Mommy opened the lid, the beautiful music filled the air. For a moment they just sat and listened to it together. Soon Mommy set it on the table, though, and stood to take Jenny in her arms. She swung them both around in time to the music, Jenny's head laying back as she giggled.
From that day on, they would don their ballet shoes and danced together to the box's music. Mommy would show Jenny the steps she remembered from her girlhood days of ballet classes. Jenny would do her best to mimic exactly what Mommy had done.
Sometimes the pretty music made Jenny sad, though. You see, just two days after Mommy got the pretty box with the rose on top, two men came to the front door. When Mommy opened it and saw them, she began crying, but Jenny didn't know why. Later that night, her Mimi explained to Jenny that her Daddy had died in the war. He was a hero, Mimi said.
That music never sounded as sweet anymore. But Jenny and her Mommy danced together anyway.
{EPS} Creative Writing - Journal #3
Prompt: Write a short story about me, Miss Kennedy, being attacked by a pair of strange, flying, black bugs.
The two black bugs zoomed out from behind the blinds suddenly. I had been trying to kill them all day, throwing three shoes, a remote control, a rolled up newspaper and even my purse at them as they flitted around the room, dancing a strange bug ballet in the air. I really thought I had killed them because they had become so quiet and I hadn't seen them for a half hour or so.
Without warning, I heard a loud buzz from behind the blinds, then one of the bugs escaped from one end while the other came up over the top. I was frozen in my chair for a moment that really felt like forever. When I came to my senses, though, I leaped from my chair, knocking over the glass of lemonade I had just poured for myself, sending the cat flying from fright, and then stumbling over one of the shoes I had thrown at the insect devils earlier that evening.
I screamed loudly as I ran to grab the nearest aerosol can, hoping whatever was in it would kill the bugs. I didn't bother to read what was in the can, just held down the button and aimed toward one of the bugs, releasing as much of the spray from inside as I could. I continued to scream as the targeted bug flew madly toward the ceiling, crashed, then dropped like a stone. I kept the stream coming from the can trained on the bug as it thrashed and scooted around the carpet.
Finally, it stilled, the final death throes of its little bug body shuddering a bit. Immediately I turned my attention to the second bug, my scream of fear turning into a hunter's cry of sorts. My first conquest gave rise to courage inside me as I climbed onto the ottoman, my trusty spray can pointed and at the ready. Movement in the corner of my eye made me turn to my right, and there was the second bug, hurtling through the air toward me. With a gutteral yell form deep in my chest, I depressed the spray button again, and a steady stream of my aerosol weapon hit the bug mid air, sending it hurtling back against the wall. Stunned, the bug fell to the floor, so I quickly bounded toward it.
As I moved toward the chair the bug fell behind, I felt something brush my cheek, and my scream of fear returned when I realized my buggy foe had escaped his temporary trap. I jumped backward, stepping on the cat's tail, which made him screech in pain and suprise. I couldn't take time to comfort him, though. I was out for bug's blood. I spun and chased the bug into a corner, a steady stream coming from the can. Finally, the bug drooped in flight, then hit the floor, barely able to move. I continued to spray, though, my can honed on my winged enemy, until all movement stopped.
Finally, I plopped onto the sofa, my eyes moving from one bug to the other, making sure they were both, in fact, dead. As my racing heart slowed its pace, I finally realized I had no idea to what I owed so much gratitude in helping me kill my prey. I lifted the can to eye level: Aqua Net.
The two black bugs zoomed out from behind the blinds suddenly. I had been trying to kill them all day, throwing three shoes, a remote control, a rolled up newspaper and even my purse at them as they flitted around the room, dancing a strange bug ballet in the air. I really thought I had killed them because they had become so quiet and I hadn't seen them for a half hour or so.
Without warning, I heard a loud buzz from behind the blinds, then one of the bugs escaped from one end while the other came up over the top. I was frozen in my chair for a moment that really felt like forever. When I came to my senses, though, I leaped from my chair, knocking over the glass of lemonade I had just poured for myself, sending the cat flying from fright, and then stumbling over one of the shoes I had thrown at the insect devils earlier that evening.
I screamed loudly as I ran to grab the nearest aerosol can, hoping whatever was in it would kill the bugs. I didn't bother to read what was in the can, just held down the button and aimed toward one of the bugs, releasing as much of the spray from inside as I could. I continued to scream as the targeted bug flew madly toward the ceiling, crashed, then dropped like a stone. I kept the stream coming from the can trained on the bug as it thrashed and scooted around the carpet.
Finally, it stilled, the final death throes of its little bug body shuddering a bit. Immediately I turned my attention to the second bug, my scream of fear turning into a hunter's cry of sorts. My first conquest gave rise to courage inside me as I climbed onto the ottoman, my trusty spray can pointed and at the ready. Movement in the corner of my eye made me turn to my right, and there was the second bug, hurtling through the air toward me. With a gutteral yell form deep in my chest, I depressed the spray button again, and a steady stream of my aerosol weapon hit the bug mid air, sending it hurtling back against the wall. Stunned, the bug fell to the floor, so I quickly bounded toward it.
As I moved toward the chair the bug fell behind, I felt something brush my cheek, and my scream of fear returned when I realized my buggy foe had escaped his temporary trap. I jumped backward, stepping on the cat's tail, which made him screech in pain and suprise. I couldn't take time to comfort him, though. I was out for bug's blood. I spun and chased the bug into a corner, a steady stream coming from the can. Finally, the bug drooped in flight, then hit the floor, barely able to move. I continued to spray, though, my can honed on my winged enemy, until all movement stopped.
Finally, I plopped onto the sofa, my eyes moving from one bug to the other, making sure they were both, in fact, dead. As my racing heart slowed its pace, I finally realized I had no idea to what I owed so much gratitude in helping me kill my prey. I lifted the can to eye level: Aqua Net.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
{EPS} Creative Writing - A picture's worth a thousand words
Assignment: Given a photo, without knowing the photo's story or title, write a short story based on the photo.
Photo given: Migrant Mother and her Children
Emily was tired. It seemed like she had spent her entire life fighting, and there didn't seem to be an end to the fight in sight. When she was younger, the fight wasn't too bad. It was only her and Jeb, and if they had to, they could go a night without food. In fact, their first year married, they often would share a meal that should have fed only one.
Jeb worked his fingers to the bone in the fields every day, late into the night. Emily cleaned the Abernathys's home each day and took in their laundry at night to earn money,t oo. Yet no matter how hard they worked, there was not always enough to go around. They became experts at juggling their finances. "Robbin' Peter to pay Paul," she can still hear Jeb say.
It wasn't long before their first little one came along, though. Sarah was such a blessing to them, and as their family of two became three, it seemed everything was going to be ok. Jeb got a raise, and the Abernathys shared Emily's name with another family, so she was cleaning two houses. The money stretched a little further, and they all went to bed with their bellies full every night.
Ten months after Sarah was born, Jeremiah came into the world two months early. Eighteen months later, the twins, Billy and Jilly, came along. Then there was Becky, Sam, and finally little Elizabeth. Their family swelled so quickly and by so many, it at first didn't seem like much of a difference, but soon things got almost too difficult. Emily and Jeb would fight, and the kids, who could hear them screaming through the paper-thin walls, would cry themselves to sleep almost every night.
When Elizabeth was two, Emily got the call she dreaded. Jeb had gotten caught in the baler and was killed. The grief crippled Emily for months, so by the time she was able to face the world again, she was already so far in a hole with her bills and debts, there was no way she would ever work her way out.
And now, the greatest humiliation and pain of all came. She lost the house she and Jeb were so proud of. It wasn't much -- just a two-bedroom, tar-paper wall house most would think was a shack. But it was their own. Jeb was so proud of it. And she had lost it.
Now, as she sat with the two youngest kids clinging to her, crying in her ear that they were hungry, and she didn't know what would happen next...or if she could even go on.
She was just so tired.
Photo given: Migrant Mother and her Children
Emily was tired. It seemed like she had spent her entire life fighting, and there didn't seem to be an end to the fight in sight. When she was younger, the fight wasn't too bad. It was only her and Jeb, and if they had to, they could go a night without food. In fact, their first year married, they often would share a meal that should have fed only one.
Jeb worked his fingers to the bone in the fields every day, late into the night. Emily cleaned the Abernathys's home each day and took in their laundry at night to earn money,t oo. Yet no matter how hard they worked, there was not always enough to go around. They became experts at juggling their finances. "Robbin' Peter to pay Paul," she can still hear Jeb say.
It wasn't long before their first little one came along, though. Sarah was such a blessing to them, and as their family of two became three, it seemed everything was going to be ok. Jeb got a raise, and the Abernathys shared Emily's name with another family, so she was cleaning two houses. The money stretched a little further, and they all went to bed with their bellies full every night.
Ten months after Sarah was born, Jeremiah came into the world two months early. Eighteen months later, the twins, Billy and Jilly, came along. Then there was Becky, Sam, and finally little Elizabeth. Their family swelled so quickly and by so many, it at first didn't seem like much of a difference, but soon things got almost too difficult. Emily and Jeb would fight, and the kids, who could hear them screaming through the paper-thin walls, would cry themselves to sleep almost every night.
When Elizabeth was two, Emily got the call she dreaded. Jeb had gotten caught in the baler and was killed. The grief crippled Emily for months, so by the time she was able to face the world again, she was already so far in a hole with her bills and debts, there was no way she would ever work her way out.
And now, the greatest humiliation and pain of all came. She lost the house she and Jeb were so proud of. It wasn't much -- just a two-bedroom, tar-paper wall house most would think was a shack. But it was their own. Jeb was so proud of it. And she had lost it.
Now, as she sat with the two youngest kids clinging to her, crying in her ear that they were hungry, and she didn't know what would happen next...or if she could even go on.
She was just so tired.
{EPS} Creative Writing - Journal #2
Topic: He turned the key in the lock and opened the door. To his horror, he saw…
his lover, sprawled on their bed, her mouth open wide as if she were screaming. His eye roamed over her body, trying to take in the scene...trying to understand what he saw but that his brain couldn't comprehend.
His hand flew to his mouth, which hung agape in disbelief. Never did he think he would see her like this. He felt like he had been punched in the stomach. His guts wretched inside him. He never thought he could feel such anger and betrayal. Immediately the bile rose in his throat and he felt like he was going to vomit.
He couldn't believe she was laying there like that, so vulnerable, so open. How could she do this to him? His eyes slid back up her body to her face, mouth parted, head back. His gaze roamed down her throat, the skin taught, supple and perfect, stretched tight.. Further his eyes moved down, over her shoulder, down her arm to her hand clenched tight...
The knife's blame gleamed back at him, despite the droplets of her blood congealing on its edge. He turned and collapsed to his knees in the doorway, his body shaking as the first sobs boiled from deep inside.
his lover, sprawled on their bed, her mouth open wide as if she were screaming. His eye roamed over her body, trying to take in the scene...trying to understand what he saw but that his brain couldn't comprehend.
His hand flew to his mouth, which hung agape in disbelief. Never did he think he would see her like this. He felt like he had been punched in the stomach. His guts wretched inside him. He never thought he could feel such anger and betrayal. Immediately the bile rose in his throat and he felt like he was going to vomit.
He couldn't believe she was laying there like that, so vulnerable, so open. How could she do this to him? His eyes slid back up her body to her face, mouth parted, head back. His gaze roamed down her throat, the skin taught, supple and perfect, stretched tight.. Further his eyes moved down, over her shoulder, down her arm to her hand clenched tight...
The knife's blame gleamed back at him, despite the droplets of her blood congealing on its edge. He turned and collapsed to his knees in the doorway, his body shaking as the first sobs boiled from deep inside.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Random poetry
Sweet little bird
Trapped in a cage
Not of her own making,
But one of golden bars.
Lovely, glittery bars,
But as pretty as they are,
They trap her nonetheless.
She once loved her place
Where she felt safe
And knew where she was.
But her one little
Taste of freedom prooved
No matter how pretty,
A cage is just a trap.
Madly, she flaps her wings,
Slamming against the
Cage's walls, trying to find
Her way out. But instead
She falls to the floor,
Out of breath, broken
And bruised.
And so slowly she
Pulls herself back up
To her perch, fluffs her
Feathers, dries her tears,
Covers her wounds, and
Puffs out her feathered chest,
Smiling like nothing's wrong.
Trapped in a cage
Not of her own making,
But one of golden bars.
Lovely, glittery bars,
But as pretty as they are,
They trap her nonetheless.
She once loved her place
Where she felt safe
And knew where she was.
But her one little
Taste of freedom prooved
No matter how pretty,
A cage is just a trap.
Madly, she flaps her wings,
Slamming against the
Cage's walls, trying to find
Her way out. But instead
She falls to the floor,
Out of breath, broken
And bruised.
And so slowly she
Pulls herself back up
To her perch, fluffs her
Feathers, dries her tears,
Covers her wounds, and
Puffs out her feathered chest,
Smiling like nothing's wrong.
Monday, June 18, 2012
The Dead Muse Challenge #1
Challenge #1: Wicked
Challenge Item: "Hold onto something. This is gonna be wicked."
Challenge Start Date: June 13, 2012
Challenge End Date: June 20, 2012
"Hold on to something. This is gonna be wicked," he said as he strapped me into the little log boat. He didn't have to tell me to, though. My hands were already gripping the bar so tight my knuckles were white.
What seems so safe and fun to many is terrifying to me, and he knew it. I have an insane fear of heights and speed ... and when you mix the two together, I'm a mess of nerves.
He called me early that morning and told me to meet him at the amusement park. It's something we did often together -- just walking, hand in hand, watching the people and talking was one of my favorite things to do. We had often discussed my fears of heights and speed, irrational as they may be.
When I got to the park, my stomach sank, though, when I went to our usual meeting place. We always meet at the central fountain, but on this morning, the cart from the Mine Shaft Drop was in my way. It looked as if some uncaring giant child had tossed it aside when he was done with his play for the day.
I asked one of the park employees what happened.
"Last night's storm knocked it off its tracks," he said. "I guess it landed it here. And now, dammit, we have to figure out how to get the friggen thing outta here.
"We're just lucky it happened when the park was closed. If people had been ridin' it....well, I hate to think what would have happened."
I shuddered at his words and wandered to a nearby bench where I knew he would see me when he arrived. I hugged my knees tight to my chest and watched park employees walk around the tossed cart, scratching their heads and whispering to one another, trying to find an easy and elegant solution to a problem they never had to face.
As I watched, darkness suddenly blocked them from my sight as a pair of hands covered my eyes. "Guess who," he whispered in my ear, his voice and breath so familiar and comforting to me. I smiled wide and reached up to cover his hands with mine briefly before taking them in mine.
As I turned my head for a kiss, he whispered, "I have such a surprise for you," followed by a small, playful peck on my lips. He slipped a blindfold over my eyes and said, "Just trust me," as he held my hands in his and guided me to my feet.
Slowly he led me through the park. The darkness that swallowed my view only heightened my other senses. Voices were more distinct, laughter more musical, and the sweet-tangy scent of sugar mixed with hot oil and the dough of funnel cakes filled my nostrils.
I actually enjoyed the walk through the park like this: My sight blocked so I could see nothing, but the sounds and scents were at once so familiar and more vibrant than ever.
Finally he stopped me, though, and guided me to a seat, his hands on my hips, gently pushing me this way, pulling me that, then whispering in my ear to sit, his breath hot as it tickled my hair against my skin.
Then I felt it: The bar lowered across my lap and snapped into place. I felt his hands move quickly around me, strapping me into the seat with the safety belt before I could protest...or even realize what was happening.
He leaned close and kissed my lips again as he slid the blindfold up and over my head. I blinked in the bright sunlight, my eyes aching because they had grown so used to the darkness of the blindfold, the light stung.
Finally, when I could see, I looked down to see he had strapped me into one of the small log boats on the log plume ride. I opened my mouth to protest.
"No..." I got out before his fingers on my mouth hushed me.
"Trust me," he said. "You'll thank me whenit's over. Now hold on to something. This is going to be wicked."
As the last syllable left his lips, the small boat lurched forward, and I was on my way to face my two strongest fears head on...and alone.
I couldn't help but scream as the boat pulled away, floating along the chute of the ride, bumping the walls occasionally. At first, despite my anticipatory screams of fear, I enjoyed the ride. It was slow and easy...but I could see what was coming.
Soon the boat began climbing, inching its way up a steep incline...higher and higher. With each small jerk of the boat, my stomach sank lower. I really couldn't hold back my fear anymore as I reached the peak of the hill.
The boat crested the hill, and there I was, face to face with the height of the ride...I had to be 50 feet in the air at this point...and I knew the as soon as the boat jerked forward one more time, it would plummet down the chute before me.
Down the little boat plummeted, so fast the wind whipped my hair around my head and stole my screams before they even escaped my lips.
When the boat splashed down at the bottom of the hill, I was finally able to catch my breath and let my fingers relax just the slightest bit from their deathgrip on the bar. Before I knew it, though, another hill was in front of me, looming like the giant in a fairy tale...menacing, dark, and the embodiment of fear.
Slowly the boat climbed the hill, then turned a corner...turned it too sharply! I felt the boat rock and sway beneath me, but it was too much. My head couldn't stop swimming as the boat tipped firther than it should, landing on its side in the chute.
I screamed at the top of my lungs and held on to the boat for dear life, all feeling in my fingers now long gone from gripping the bar so tightly. I could hear voices, shouts, louder than usual, but I couldn't make out what they were saying. I could only squeeze my eyes tight, feeling the tears of my realized fears stream down my face.
Higher and higher the sideways boat climbed the ride, the chain pulling it grinding, squeaking and straining to pull me up the hill. Finally, at the top of the hill, the chute flattened out and curved sharply. As the boat swung through the curve, it rocked and swayed again, tossing me around inside like a limp rag doll.
As it swung through the corner, though, the boat finally righted itself just before plummeting down the final hill of the ride. The speed pushed the air past my face so quickly it dried the tears on my cheeks.
After the final splash, the boat slowed and pulled into the boat house. I looked up, panting, shaking, unable to speak or even think. My first sight, though, was his face.
He stood there with his mouth slightly agape, his face white as chalk. As soon as my boat jerked to a halt, he rushed to me, grabbing me in his arms and squeezing me tight.
"Oh sweetheart I am so sorry." his words rushed into my ears as we clung to each other. "Are you ok? Are you hurt? Oh god, I was so frightened. I am so sorry, and I will never do anything so stupid again. I'm never leaving your side again!"
As he spoke, he held me close to him with one arm while he unstrapped me with the opposite hand. He pulled me to my feet and helped me from the boat before sweeping me into the tightest embrace I have ever had.
We clung to one another like this for what seemed like hours, until my heart and breath had slowed and I had quit shivering. Park employees surrounded us, but they parted as the park manager walked briskly through the crowd to us.
After many apologies from the manager and several free passes to the park, we decided to leave. As we strolled through the park toward the exit, our arms around each other, I couldn't help but toss a final glance at the log ride over my shoulder.
As I turned my head, I caught him looking at me, his eyes filled with fear, love, sorrow and warmth. I smiled at him softly, looked down, then liften my eyes back to his.
"Can I tell you something?" I asked. "Would you think I'm crazy if I said I want to go again?"
Challenge Item: "Hold onto something. This is gonna be wicked."
Challenge Start Date: June 13, 2012
Challenge End Date: June 20, 2012
"Hold on to something. This is gonna be wicked," he said as he strapped me into the little log boat. He didn't have to tell me to, though. My hands were already gripping the bar so tight my knuckles were white.
What seems so safe and fun to many is terrifying to me, and he knew it. I have an insane fear of heights and speed ... and when you mix the two together, I'm a mess of nerves.
He called me early that morning and told me to meet him at the amusement park. It's something we did often together -- just walking, hand in hand, watching the people and talking was one of my favorite things to do. We had often discussed my fears of heights and speed, irrational as they may be.
When I got to the park, my stomach sank, though, when I went to our usual meeting place. We always meet at the central fountain, but on this morning, the cart from the Mine Shaft Drop was in my way. It looked as if some uncaring giant child had tossed it aside when he was done with his play for the day.
I asked one of the park employees what happened.
"Last night's storm knocked it off its tracks," he said. "I guess it landed it here. And now, dammit, we have to figure out how to get the friggen thing outta here.
"We're just lucky it happened when the park was closed. If people had been ridin' it....well, I hate to think what would have happened."
I shuddered at his words and wandered to a nearby bench where I knew he would see me when he arrived. I hugged my knees tight to my chest and watched park employees walk around the tossed cart, scratching their heads and whispering to one another, trying to find an easy and elegant solution to a problem they never had to face.
As I watched, darkness suddenly blocked them from my sight as a pair of hands covered my eyes. "Guess who," he whispered in my ear, his voice and breath so familiar and comforting to me. I smiled wide and reached up to cover his hands with mine briefly before taking them in mine.
As I turned my head for a kiss, he whispered, "I have such a surprise for you," followed by a small, playful peck on my lips. He slipped a blindfold over my eyes and said, "Just trust me," as he held my hands in his and guided me to my feet.
Slowly he led me through the park. The darkness that swallowed my view only heightened my other senses. Voices were more distinct, laughter more musical, and the sweet-tangy scent of sugar mixed with hot oil and the dough of funnel cakes filled my nostrils.
I actually enjoyed the walk through the park like this: My sight blocked so I could see nothing, but the sounds and scents were at once so familiar and more vibrant than ever.
Finally he stopped me, though, and guided me to a seat, his hands on my hips, gently pushing me this way, pulling me that, then whispering in my ear to sit, his breath hot as it tickled my hair against my skin.
Then I felt it: The bar lowered across my lap and snapped into place. I felt his hands move quickly around me, strapping me into the seat with the safety belt before I could protest...or even realize what was happening.
He leaned close and kissed my lips again as he slid the blindfold up and over my head. I blinked in the bright sunlight, my eyes aching because they had grown so used to the darkness of the blindfold, the light stung.
Finally, when I could see, I looked down to see he had strapped me into one of the small log boats on the log plume ride. I opened my mouth to protest.
"No..." I got out before his fingers on my mouth hushed me.
"Trust me," he said. "You'll thank me whenit's over. Now hold on to something. This is going to be wicked."
As the last syllable left his lips, the small boat lurched forward, and I was on my way to face my two strongest fears head on...and alone.
I couldn't help but scream as the boat pulled away, floating along the chute of the ride, bumping the walls occasionally. At first, despite my anticipatory screams of fear, I enjoyed the ride. It was slow and easy...but I could see what was coming.
Soon the boat began climbing, inching its way up a steep incline...higher and higher. With each small jerk of the boat, my stomach sank lower. I really couldn't hold back my fear anymore as I reached the peak of the hill.
The boat crested the hill, and there I was, face to face with the height of the ride...I had to be 50 feet in the air at this point...and I knew the as soon as the boat jerked forward one more time, it would plummet down the chute before me.
Down the little boat plummeted, so fast the wind whipped my hair around my head and stole my screams before they even escaped my lips.
When the boat splashed down at the bottom of the hill, I was finally able to catch my breath and let my fingers relax just the slightest bit from their deathgrip on the bar. Before I knew it, though, another hill was in front of me, looming like the giant in a fairy tale...menacing, dark, and the embodiment of fear.
Slowly the boat climbed the hill, then turned a corner...turned it too sharply! I felt the boat rock and sway beneath me, but it was too much. My head couldn't stop swimming as the boat tipped firther than it should, landing on its side in the chute.
I screamed at the top of my lungs and held on to the boat for dear life, all feeling in my fingers now long gone from gripping the bar so tightly. I could hear voices, shouts, louder than usual, but I couldn't make out what they were saying. I could only squeeze my eyes tight, feeling the tears of my realized fears stream down my face.
Higher and higher the sideways boat climbed the ride, the chain pulling it grinding, squeaking and straining to pull me up the hill. Finally, at the top of the hill, the chute flattened out and curved sharply. As the boat swung through the curve, it rocked and swayed again, tossing me around inside like a limp rag doll.
As it swung through the corner, though, the boat finally righted itself just before plummeting down the final hill of the ride. The speed pushed the air past my face so quickly it dried the tears on my cheeks.
After the final splash, the boat slowed and pulled into the boat house. I looked up, panting, shaking, unable to speak or even think. My first sight, though, was his face.
He stood there with his mouth slightly agape, his face white as chalk. As soon as my boat jerked to a halt, he rushed to me, grabbing me in his arms and squeezing me tight.
"Oh sweetheart I am so sorry." his words rushed into my ears as we clung to each other. "Are you ok? Are you hurt? Oh god, I was so frightened. I am so sorry, and I will never do anything so stupid again. I'm never leaving your side again!"
As he spoke, he held me close to him with one arm while he unstrapped me with the opposite hand. He pulled me to my feet and helped me from the boat before sweeping me into the tightest embrace I have ever had.
We clung to one another like this for what seemed like hours, until my heart and breath had slowed and I had quit shivering. Park employees surrounded us, but they parted as the park manager walked briskly through the crowd to us.
After many apologies from the manager and several free passes to the park, we decided to leave. As we strolled through the park toward the exit, our arms around each other, I couldn't help but toss a final glance at the log ride over my shoulder.
As I turned my head, I caught him looking at me, his eyes filled with fear, love, sorrow and warmth. I smiled at him softly, looked down, then liften my eyes back to his.
"Can I tell you something?" I asked. "Would you think I'm crazy if I said I want to go again?"
Random Poetry
I wrote this on the notepad of my iPhone the other day.
I sat there and waited ...
Waited for you to come back,
But I never saw your face.
The long, dusty road stretched out before me,
Its length snaking through the trees,
My line to you ... but you're not there.
Please come back to me.
I sat there and waited ...
Waited for you to come back,
But I never saw your face.
The long, dusty road stretched out before me,
Its length snaking through the trees,
My line to you ... but you're not there.
Please come back to me.
{EPS} Creative Writing - Assignment #1
This assignment was for us to write a character biography with ourselves as the protagonist.
She is a relatively quiet girl who enjoys people watching more than being a part of "the crowd". She is, at her core, very shy, but she works hard every day to overcome the intense shyness that overtook most of her younger years. Because she is shy and quiet, though, some people think she is a bit snobby and perhaps feels like she is too good for everyone else. One of her deepest secrets, though, is that she usually doesn't feel good enough. She has always wanted to fit in and be a part of the crowd, but her shyness always pulls her away from that.
She has a deep faith that she doesn't flaunt, but she lives it in hopes that others will see it in her actions and demeanor. It's not always easy, though, because she has a biting, sarcastic wit that some think is hilarious, but others sometimes feel is hurtful. (She wishes this wasn't so, though, because she would rather cut off her own arm than hurt anyone ever.)
For those who see the humor in what she says at those moments, though, a lovely surprise awaits, because one of her secret dreams was to be a stand up comic. Perhaps she still will one day.
She often thinks too much and gets trapped in her own imaginings and thoughts, but when she has her "blonde moments", you would never guess she is as intelligent as she truly is. Rather than flaunt her smarts, she generally just stays quiet. When she finds a peer group on the same intellectual wavelength, though, she delights in it and basks in conversation, mild debate, and speculation.
Her biggest joy in life is to help others, whether it is to make them smile when they feel down or to aid in solving a problem that plagues them. She is a solution-finder, and while she is always willing to be a listening ear to those who need it, she has to reign herself in from giving advice for which she wasn't asked.
Her family and friends are her most cherished possessions in the world, though she does enjoy a good piece of cheesecake now and then, too.
She is a relatively quiet girl who enjoys people watching more than being a part of "the crowd". She is, at her core, very shy, but she works hard every day to overcome the intense shyness that overtook most of her younger years. Because she is shy and quiet, though, some people think she is a bit snobby and perhaps feels like she is too good for everyone else. One of her deepest secrets, though, is that she usually doesn't feel good enough. She has always wanted to fit in and be a part of the crowd, but her shyness always pulls her away from that.
She has a deep faith that she doesn't flaunt, but she lives it in hopes that others will see it in her actions and demeanor. It's not always easy, though, because she has a biting, sarcastic wit that some think is hilarious, but others sometimes feel is hurtful. (She wishes this wasn't so, though, because she would rather cut off her own arm than hurt anyone ever.)
For those who see the humor in what she says at those moments, though, a lovely surprise awaits, because one of her secret dreams was to be a stand up comic. Perhaps she still will one day.
She often thinks too much and gets trapped in her own imaginings and thoughts, but when she has her "blonde moments", you would never guess she is as intelligent as she truly is. Rather than flaunt her smarts, she generally just stays quiet. When she finds a peer group on the same intellectual wavelength, though, she delights in it and basks in conversation, mild debate, and speculation.
Her biggest joy in life is to help others, whether it is to make them smile when they feel down or to aid in solving a problem that plagues them. She is a solution-finder, and while she is always willing to be a listening ear to those who need it, she has to reign herself in from giving advice for which she wasn't asked.
Her family and friends are her most cherished possessions in the world, though she does enjoy a good piece of cheesecake now and then, too.
{EPS} Creative Writing - Journal #1
This was my first journal assignment at Edgewood Prep School's Creative Writing Class. The topic: If I Ruled the World
I sit here all alone, staring at the telephone then sliding my gaze to the computer monitor before me. The headlines are bleak: "32 die in Car Bombing in Mogadishu"; "Riots break out in Madrid"; "Revolution in Iran leaves thousands dead".
"What have I gotten myself into?" I think. It seemed like a great idea, applying to rule the world. It's every kid's dream, really: All the money, ice cream and power you could want, right?
I didn't count on humanity, though. I didn't bank on the fact that whether under one ruler or a thousand, people are still people, and they will still fight. Wars will still happen. Blood will still be shed.
I lay my head down on my hands, laying on top of my desk, and feel tears come to my eyes. I take a deep breath, and then I pray.
I feel a bit of a peace come over me. I feel the answer to this problem become clear. No one person should rule the world.
I pick up my phone and quickly summon my staff. When they arrive in my office, I tell them of my plans...plans to appoint leaders who each have qualities that best suit their country.
"Is that the best way, though, Ma'am?" asks one advisor. "Should one person even have that much power? To choose who will rule?"
I turn from them to look out the window and sigh deeply. My mind reels with "What if"s and plans.
I know this is not a solution I will come to easily....
I sit here all alone, staring at the telephone then sliding my gaze to the computer monitor before me. The headlines are bleak: "32 die in Car Bombing in Mogadishu"; "Riots break out in Madrid"; "Revolution in Iran leaves thousands dead".
"What have I gotten myself into?" I think. It seemed like a great idea, applying to rule the world. It's every kid's dream, really: All the money, ice cream and power you could want, right?
I didn't count on humanity, though. I didn't bank on the fact that whether under one ruler or a thousand, people are still people, and they will still fight. Wars will still happen. Blood will still be shed.
I lay my head down on my hands, laying on top of my desk, and feel tears come to my eyes. I take a deep breath, and then I pray.
I feel a bit of a peace come over me. I feel the answer to this problem become clear. No one person should rule the world.
I pick up my phone and quickly summon my staff. When they arrive in my office, I tell them of my plans...plans to appoint leaders who each have qualities that best suit their country.
"Is that the best way, though, Ma'am?" asks one advisor. "Should one person even have that much power? To choose who will rule?"
I turn from them to look out the window and sigh deeply. My mind reels with "What if"s and plans.
I know this is not a solution I will come to easily....
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