Thursday, May 3, 2018

Did I Ever Tell You The Definition Of Insanity?

(This is a censored version of a quote from the game “Far Cry 3.” The main villain monologues this to you because... I don’t know. Because he is crazy. Here you go) 
Vaas: Did I ever tell you what the definition of insanity is? Insanity... Is... Doing the exact... Same thing... Over and over again expecting... Things to change... That. Is. Crazy. The first time somebody told me that, I dunno, I thought they were messing with me, so - boom - I scolded him. The thing is - He was right. And then I started to see it everywhere I looked -Everywhere I looked, all these people, everywhere I looked, doing the exact same friggin’ thing... Over and over and over and over again thinking, "This time is gonna be different. No-no-no-no-no please... This time is gonna be different..." ...I'm sorry, I don't like the way... (pushes crate over cliff) ...you are LOOKING at me! Okay, do you have a problem in your head? Do you think I am messing you, do you think I am lying? Screw you! Okay? SCREW. YOU. (beat) It's okay, man. I'm gonna chill, hermano. I'm gonna chill. The thing is... all right? The thing is I killed you once already, and it’s not like am crazy. It's okay. (beat) It's like water under the bridge. Did I ever tell you the definition of insanity

Wednesday, March 14, 2018

The Sprain

It was lunch time. This was one of the few days of the past two months where we could go outside without jackets, so I was happy. After about twenty minutes of eating and chit-chat, Anton had suggested a game. This game was called “Shoe, Jeans, Backpack.” Slowly eating my Cheetos, he explained the rules slowly. “If I were to say ‘Shoe’ you would jump. Last one to touch the ground, loses. If I say ‘Jeans’ you would twirl on one foot like a ballerina. Last one to stop wins.” Pause. An anxious pause snapped by the crunch of Cheetos getting ground in teeth. “If I say ‘Backpack’ you have to find the nearest Backpack and declare your love to it.” Everybody in the group chuckled. This was normal for Anton’s sense of humor. We all went along with it. We lined up next to our lunch table, and Anton quickly said “Shoe!” We all jumped and Anton couldn’t tell who lost, so he had us jump again.

Across the lunch area, on the asphalt covered hill, someone threw a ball. He most likely saw a few kids lined up for some stupid reason, and decided to throw a ball to get their attention. After witnessing them jump for after one had loudly proclaimed the word “Shoe”, he lifted the soccer ball into the throwing position. Right as it left his hand, he heard the really tall one yell “Shoe!” One thing I don’t know is whether or not this person felt that something was off or if he didn’t notice. What could go wrong?

As Anton yelled “Shoe!!” once again, I jumped, of course. I saw everyone’s feet start to collide with the ground. I was thinking, “Crap. I’m out. Better accept it.” One foot was about six inches from the ground. The other, about the same, but I could feel something under it. I had blinked a split second before this, and my eyes were closed. I never saw exactly what happened. I felt my foot go to the left, out in a weird way I’d never felt my foot go before. And that is the story of how I sprained my ankle. 

Friday, February 23, 2018

Addressed to Dallas Winston

     Dear Dally,

     You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to write those words. I’ve said them to myself in my mind, sometimes out loud when in lying in my bed. People talk, that’s one lesson I’ve learned in my 18 years of being your little sister. People also lie and steal—something both you an I know all to well.
 
     My birthday was almost two months ago, and not even a single wish from no one. Sort of thought turning 18 would’ve been a special occasion, but I guess I hadn’t learned to not keep my hopes up as high as I do. I miss Tulsa, I really do, and you know better than anyone how hard it is for me to say that. Darry and Soda, How are they doing? I think about the Curtises a lot. Ponyboy, heard he’s going places through the grapevine. Mom and Dad aren’t doing to well, but I know better than anyone that you don't give a rat’s ass about either of them. You have reasons to, I understand. Here in Colorado, I haven’t met no one. The scar Dad put on my face scares people to much. I got a job working at a gas station. Meeting all sorts of folks everyday is fun, but does get mighty old.
 
    A lot of Hoods come in. Last week I got a gun put to my head by one, but I wasn’t really scared. The boy had this look in his eye, this long, longing look. Reminded me of you. His soul... a lot like you and I’s. Something about them were calming—I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. Just wanted to do something for the sake of doing it. Never got his name, and I couldn’t stand to watch him Leave the place. My other buddy was at the back patio, smoking a joint for the whole thing. Our boss lets us smoke inside, but you know how much I cant stand the smell.
 
    The other day, this kid came in with his Momma, spent a real long time in the candy. He tried to walk out with a pack of M&Ms. Darn little thing, I could tell he was one hell of a troublemaker. There a fit when his Momma told him he couldn’t have it. Got to the point to where I let him walk out with it for free. Momma, you could tell she was being run ragged by the little fella. Almost felt sorry for her, you know. Life is like that sometimes.

    Two or three months back, an 18-wheeler and a tow truck had crashed into each other on the highway out front. The tow truck didn’t have its hazards on and the 18-wheeler wasn’t paying attention. Made a real mess. They were other alright—the divers I mean. Both vehicles had gone to hell. If the fire crew hadn’t gotten there when they did, both would’ve exploded. Didn’t take long for the police to clean up all the glass and metal. Only took halve a shift from crash to clean-up. Wish you would’ve been there, I know we would've talked about it for hours afterwards.
 
   Something tells me you would really like Colorado. The folks out here are real easy going. Seems like everyone knows how to play the guitar. The mountains are real nice, but in the winter the sun sets real early. Sometimes before I get home. I’m barely making enough to keep my makeshift apartment, hardly any for food. My buddy and I go out for Mickey D’s for lunch Tuesdays and Thursdays, sometimes that’s all I have. Lost probably 30 pounds from when you last saw me, and I was pretty small to begin with. Living off candy and gas station coffee isn’t all that great, but I’m handling it. Working at a gas station, you sure do have a lot of things happen to you, a lot of stories to tell. I probably have stories for the rest of my life it seems.
   
I talk about you a lot, contrary to popular belief. Sometimes to the point to where my buddy wants so smack my head on the counter. He’s quiet, and I can’t learn to shut my trap when it’s needed. They have music playing all day at the station. It’s gotten tot he point to where I know all the.  words to every song on the radio. I’ve grown to like The Beach Boys, so does that make m a soc? I guess not, to poor to put gas in my car. I walk to work most days, but when the weathers real bad my Buddy offers to give me ride.

      Two-bit just called me. I don't know how he got my number—Darry said a few words. “Maree, somethings happened,” play in my mind. Johnny, I’m sorry. Dally, it wasn’t your fault. Don’t self-destruct. Life is an amazing thing, something so harsh and cruel, yet extremely delicate. Darry told me a story how Johnny and Ponyboy had run away after killing a Soc. He also told me you helped them. I told him that didn’t sound like you. I know how Johnny paid attention to you most. Heard he died from trying to save children from a church. He was speaking so quickly I didn’t hear the word “fire” till someone said it in the background. Oh Dallas, It wasn’t your fault. Remember when dad had took our dog Oli, saying that he had a broken leg, so Dad shot him in the house and made us clean it up? I can remember crying each night, haunted by the sight, but each time you held me, and I would bury my face in the crook of your neck when I tried to sleep. You kept saying, “It’s going to be okay Mae,” shushing my sobs away.
 
     The night you had finally cried with me, is the one I remember most, the whole reason why I remember the whole ordeal as well as I do. I hope you remember that night, even when you kept denying that you hadn’t. Even since you left that night for your reasons in leaving to New York. That night, you remembered how to cry. Dallas, please still remember how to cry. For your little sister please ball. I don’t care if its when you’re alone in your car, right now, or sitting on the couch in the Curtises. Yell, kick, scream, it helps. Johnny was your friend, family. He deserves to be cried about. Feel pain now rather than later. You’ll be better off, you and I both know. Don’t do anything stupid, please. I got no one else besides you, and you’ve been slipping away from me ever since I left for the mountains. I regret it Dally, I regret moving. I wish I hadn’t. I regret leaving Tulsa. I’m sorry for what I said that day when I hopped into my car and didn’t look back. Remember what Pony said that day? “You take up for your buddies, no matter what they do. When you’re a gang you, stick up for the members. If you don't stick up for them, stick together, make like brothers, it isn’t a gang anymore. It’s a pack. A snarling, distrustful, bickering pack like Socs in their social clubs or street gangs in New York or wolves in Timber.” (P. 26). I wrote that down on a note when you first told me. You, Dallas Winston, you kept our bothers a gang. You helped Johnny and Ponyboy when they needed someone. You drove them to the Dairy Queen and got them foot. You’re willing to stand up for Soda, Darry, Pony, Johnny, Steve, Two-bit, and so on. After Darry had told me the news, Pony was passed the phone. He told me that “Cherry was afraid of loving you,” saying, “She saw Bob, but also the carelessness, and the way Dallas carried himself, she kind of admired him.” (P.27)

     Dallas, all I'm trying to say is, no matter how much you're broken, alone, and numb, unable to feel the tiniest bit of emotion in the world, you're never alone. You always got Darry, Soda, Steve, Pony, Two-bit too, but most of all, you got me. Your, "Rag-tag annoying ass little sister" that you held at night when life was catching up to her. I'm the one you ran to after your buddy got shot up in New York. I remember, you came back all beaten up and I ran out and hugged you when I saw your face for the first time in months, maybe years. Dallas, there are people who need you, I need you. You are my big brother who can take on anything and come out fine. You have a family and the support.

   When Grandma Ann died, when we were real young, I know that's when everything started. That's when Mom started doing the drugs and Dad started to drink because of Mom doing the drugs. You and I, we have been surrounded by death our whole lives, but we always made it through the pain no  matter what. We both have turned cold because of it too. You can't let this take you away. Just because you and I haven't talked in years, I still talk about you. I talk about you relentlessly.

     That one day in May, couple summers ago when I was coming home from school and I was
walking through an alleyway I wasn't supposed to be in, and when that man jumped me? He grabbed my wrists so hard I had bruises on them for weeks. He would've taken me if you weren't just a few paces away. You saved me. We're blood Dallas, and you always fight for blood. Dallas Winston, I will always fight for you, even from 1,000 miles part, I still wont go down without a one. You fight through this.

     There are always going to be Johnnies in the world just like Darries, Ponies, Sodas, even Steves Two-bits. There are always going to be Dallas and Maree Winston, and stupid kids playing in a burning church. There are always going to be drunk parents and bad police officers, Hoods and Socs. Bad, good, better, and worse. That's life. You have to live through it or else you're a coward.  Dallas, don't die a coward afraid of seeing things through. Hell, I would've killed msyelf long ago if it weren't for you coming home from New York. You came back for me because you knew you could always count on me. You can still always count on me, forever and always.

We're blood, and there's nothing changing that.

I love you brother.

~Maree Winston







   










Tuesday, February 20, 2018

Hey, Grease!

The year is 1960 in Manitou Springs. School is running as normal. Mr. Rohanason is instructing us on how to do basic calculus for the 5th time this year. Fine enough. I’m sitting there, watching him slowly scrawl on the board, the chalk lining imaginary, misshapen bodies, trying to pay attention. That’s how I would stay awake, imagine the numbers, and variables, and parentheses as bodies. Like the chalk liner in crime movies. That guy has a good job. He was probably a crappy sketch artist, so they had him draw with chalk on the ground. I would try to imagine the backstories of every number, and what happened to him or her to be drawn on a board. Stupid, I know, but I do what I can. I also, can’t understand a single word the guy is saying, but I’ll live. After about 30 minutes he finished up and asked if there were any questions. The guy two seats to my right, Joe, said: “Can you say that all again? I wasn’t listening.” Everybody started yuking it up, even earning a quick chuckle from me. Since I was one of the first to calm the hell down, I noticed the teacher snickering. That wasn’t good. Whenever he started snickering, he was about to yell. Quick as a bullet, I shot up and said, “Sir, may I please go to the can?” He slowly nodded, and I shot out of there like The Flash to get away from the firestorm of hell that was about to rain down on these fools. As I was walking back from the can, I could still hear him going bonkers in there, so I passed the classroom, instead opting for the library. Slowly entering the most mystic room in the building, I saw the three people I hated most. Guy, Sheri, and Guillbert. Guy was wearing that one Italian suit he owns, just to rub it in the faces of all the other kids. Sheri was wearing her cheerleading skirt in the middle of February, of all months. Guillbert was wearing that blasted Ivy League style dress-up thing, acting like he’s actually going to get into one of those schools. I started to slink out of the library, as to not get noticed by the trio, but alas Guy shouted to me, “Hey Grease.” With that, I froze. My heart skipped a beat, as I could feel the oxygen stop flowing in my blood. After that near death experience, I slowly turned on one heel and quietly asked, “Yeah?” “Ohp. Never mind, just wanted to see if you were really that ugly.” I didn’t notice that, at the time, Guillbert was slowly trying to get Sheri away from the fight that would soon ring out. Slowly making my way towards Guy, I did the one trick I knew how to do with my butterfly knife. I thought back to what Uncle John thought me. Start with the knife completely closed. Hold the knife out while holding both handles closed. Let the bottom handle drop into the vertical position and swing it back around in one movement. Now it’s open and ready to be used. If Guillbert and Sheri weren’t gone before this, they were now. Guy didn’t move a muscle. “So what Grease? What are you going to do. Stab me?” I didn’t. Turned out, what Guillbert was doing was flanking me, and going to stab me in the ribs. Luckily his switch hit the bone, but it still broke the skin and started bleeding. Everyone in the room, other than yours truly ran out. I tried to leave, cursing like a sailor all the way. I went back to class, payed attention, and passed out from blood loss at the end of the day, as I had not seemed any medical attention. Just another day in the life of a Greaser. 

Friday, February 9, 2018

Slow Down

I saw her running away from her house. Tears streaming down her red cheeks. A terrified yet angry expression on her face. She didn’t even look at me. She just ran. Thinking quickly, I followed her as fast as I could. She seemed immensely frustrated. She always runs faster when she’s mad. I could barely keep up with her.

I knew where she’d run. To the tall oak tree in the middle of the park. She’d climb up it. Then she would sit on the highest branch that she could reach. Watching the sunset. Waiting until the stars came out. Sometimes, she’d go there to cry. I knew that she wouldn’t want to see anyone tonight. That she would want to be alone. 


Still, I decided to go through a neighborhood and cut her off. As I ran out into the grassy park, I felt a chilling breeze tickle my spine. Where was she? She should’ve been there before me. Frantically, I spun around to look behind me. Then I saw her tall, slim silhouette approaching quickly. She was looking up at the sky. Why wasn’t she watching where she was going? How could she know that she had reached the tree if she wasn’t looking? She needed to slow down! She needed to watch. She should’ve slowed down... If only— she’d slowed down

Moon Truther

Here is a fact, the moon you see every night isn’t real. This may be a shock to you but the truth needs to be said. How is the question you need to ask yourself. But that is also the question I will answer. Now at night it is well known that the world gets colder, now who said that the sun isn’t affected by this too. Now this means that the sun cools into a rock substance that shapes into the moon at night.

Thursday, February 8, 2018

Lies

Imagine we were having a conversation and I told you, “I lie to myself all the time.” you might be confused at first, right? Surely someone can’t lie to themselves. I would have thought this as well, but after reading The Outsiders, I realized that it’s true. At the end of chapter 1, Ponyboy says, “I lie to myself all the time, but I never believe myself.” This means that even though Ponyboy knows the truth, he tries to make things better in his head than they are in real life. I realized after reading this that I also lie to myself all the time. For example, if I get a lot of homework, I will try and convince myself that it’s actually not that much and I can get it done easily. Most of the time this works and I get everything done, but there have been a few times where I don’t believe myself and I give up completely. I also lie to myself about the unknown. Like many other people, one of my biggest fears is the unknown, such as what happens after we die or just the unexplainable things that happen in every day life like things moving around on their own or a mysterious death. Since nobody has an explanation for any of these things, I try to come up with something that makes sense and I convince myself that it’s true. This is how religions get started, and although I’m not a religious person I still believe things easily just so that I have some sort of reassurance. This is also why I believe lots of the conspiracy theories I hear and I’m very interested in them, even though they freak me out. Although, like me trying to convince myself I don’t have much homework, sometimes I won’t believe myself, and this is what is called an existential crisis. Even though I try not to think about how big the universe is or contemplate the inevitability of death, every once in a while one of those thoughts will slip into my head and I won’t be able to convince myself of anything. This leads to hours or even days of me lying on the floor or sitting in a dark corner just staring blankly at the ceiling thinking about all the things that I and the rest of humanity will never know the answer to. Although I sometimes don’t believe myself, I do lie to myself all the time.

Aim for the Heart

The snow crunched under Ruby’s feet as she ran through the rock formations of the area once known as Garden of the Gods. Behind her she could hear the pounding of paws and loud howls of wolves calling for the rest of the pack to follow. After dodging several trees, Ruby swung herself around to face them. Set, nock, pull, release; Ruby recited in her head as she gripped the wooden handle of her bow with her right hand. Using her left hand, she pulled an arrow out of her quiver and nocked it. The largest wolf of the pack slowly crept towards Ruby, bloody teeth showing as he snarled at her. For a moment, Ruby studied the wolf’s features. He looked like any other wolf, but something about him seemed… unnatural. The way he moved, the way he snarled, the way his eyes stayed locked with Ruby’s seemed almost robotic. It was almost like the wolf wasn’t present in the moment, yet he was there, slowly creeping closer and closer to her. Ruby, although a bit confused, quickly put the idea aside as the wolf lunged forward. Using her lightning-quick reflexes, Ruby pulled the string of her bow back to her cheek, and released the string. The rest of the pack watched as the arrow flew through the air and found its place directly in the wolf’s heart. A single screech escaped the wolf’s mouth before it thumped onto the ground, dead. The rest of the pack hurriedly scrambled away.

Wednesday, February 7, 2018

Atmosphere

His footsteps could be heard from a miles away as they were just about the only sound throughout the quivering forest. The trees trembled at the bite of the barren wind. Even the birds were sleeping. There was nothing there except him. The man kept walking even though the howls of the wind begged him to stop. He kept walking even though the rocky path told him it wasn’t safe. The man just kept on walking. The grass swayed in such a welcoming way, the man thought it was safe. The whole forest was alive, warning him of the unforgiving terrain ahead. All expect the grass. The grass mischievously disobeyed the wind and welcomed the man on to the remorseless mountain. The man kept walking. You could almost hear the sound of the grasses’ villain-like laughter as the man mounted the rocks. The grass got his way, and once again the forest crumbled. The trees sank a little lower to the ground, and the wind slowed to a breeze. The flowers wilted and the rocks cracked. The forbidding atmosphere drew closer and closer to its grave

Ernie Gang: Explanation

The day is November 29th, 2017. A man going by the internet name of Alpharad decides to play VR Chat with some friends. He finds a cult of tiny Rainbow Girls. This gives Alpha an idea. They go to the character select area, and pick the most colorful character they can. Ernie from Sesame Street. About ten of his friends pick Ernie as well, and they start the first raid. They go to a bar. The owner asks them to leave. Eventually they say “Ernie Gang” so many times that the owner of the bar has to admit that Ernie Gang owns the bar. They leave the bar and raid the Rainbow Girl cult. Alpha is able to convince a few of them to join the Ernies. After they switch their character models, they raid the bar again. The bartender says, “Oh. You’re back.” Alpha asks him, “Who owns this bar?” The bartender whispers “Ernie Gang.” “Who?” The bartender reluctantly squeezed out “Ernie Gang.” This goes on for some time until he finally says in normal volume “Ernie Gang.” This concluded the great Ernie raids of 2017. Some say that the bar always has at least one Ernie in it, and it was able to stay that way for a month-and-a-half, at least until the Ugandan Knuckles raids of 2018. No one has heard Ernie Gang for a month. That concludes this chapter in internet history. At least, so far.

the world is flat

The world is flat, that’s it it’s true but you might want proof. How, you are probably thinking how could the world be flat, but I will tell you the truth. First write the word freedom on a piece of paper, now you can see that the word freedom is flat. Now do you know the definition of freedom, of course you do it’s America. Now what is America, that’s right basically the world.

Rules

   I’ve broken plenty rules in my lifetime, but they were just rules like eating something I wasn’t supposed to, or taking too long of showers. Some of the rules I have broken were a little bit worse than that. 
   Breaking rules is like a mission, because you have an objective your trying to get done, and you can’t get caught while doing it. So it makes breaking the rules way more fun than following them, because everyone likes a little adventure in their life right? When I broke the rules, it sort of made me feel alive, like I was actually doing something important. 
  The first time I drove a car on the road, I was of course underage. I only drove in my neighborhood, but it was still illegal. I was probably having way more fun driving that car at just 15 mph because I was breaking the rules. I asked my dad if he enjoyed driving this much, and he said no, because it had gotten really boring. I’ll bet if he was doing it illegally, he would be having more fun.


The Clouds

The clouds were the only escape from the horror. The only escape from reality. Escape from the bitter cold eating away at her. Emily looked down from her staring contest with the clouds, only to find her situation unchanged. She was still atop the Sierra Mountains.  As far as the eye could see there were snowy peaks. Her tattered coat was hanging low and her thin skirt full of holes were the only clothes she had. All that was left was a wagon with no ox, and she barely had any food. She was the only survivor of a cholera plague in her family. Her dream to get to California through the Oregon Trail had turned into a nightmare. The clouds were outstretched as far as she could see, coating the mountains that seemed to go on forever. She looked out to the unforgiving wind, covering her eyes from the burning white of the mountains. She trekked along her makeshift sled, made of scraps of wood from her wagon. There she carried any food or water she could get. The wild forests of pine before her brought a wave of fear crashing through her, not knowing what awaited her there. Emily headed forward, hoping to someday reach civilization, or a pioneer camp, at least, to rest and finally feel comfortable. Her hazel eyes set on the clouds once more. Her heartbeat slowed to normal, but the overwhelming sense of sadness from her family’s passing surpassed the assurance of the moving clouds. 

Monday, February 5, 2018

Hey!

Hello, everyone!  I've enjoyed reading your stories, poems, and essays.  I love how reading a book like The Outsiders can make you think about all kinds of things...

I've left comments on a few posts.  Don't worry, I'll get around to all of them soon enough.

Welcome back, it's good to read your voices.

Love,
Ms. Spengler

The Fearful Walk Part 1

I walked out the front door of the middle school finally getting a gasp of fresh air. Being crammed in a school over the span 8 hours was too long of a time. I had to walk to the elementary down the road. To me, walking was always better than driving. Cars were to small to be in for a longtime, and I had people driving me around a lot earlier in the week. Even though I was only 12 I still felt like I was old enough to walk many places alone.

I got off the sidewalk by the middle school and started walking on the back road because is was faster than the main road. Walking down the street was relaxing because there was no one else around to distract me. Of course there was always the occasional car engine or dog barking, but for the most part it was quiet. Since it was quiet I could get lost in my thoughts very easily. I liked to sing songs in my head, to pass the time.

While walking you come across many different things. There are different trees, houses, cars, and people. I was walking and I came across this creepy looking house. The wood on the outside was rotting and turning black, the chain link fence in front was rusting, all of the grass had died. It was pretty creepy. On the street level there was  a short, long bush. All of the leaves on it were still growing really well so it look weird in front of the house. As I walk next to the bush I heard rustling.

Right as I heard it I stopped right in my tracks. I looked at the bush, but I couldn't see anything in it because it was so heavily leafed. I started to walk, but a little slower this time. I moved a little farther when I heard it again. This time instead of stopping, I sped up a little bit. As I walked a little faster the noise started to follow me. I didn't know what to do. I was almost at a slow jog by now. The noise would not go away. I could see the end of the bush now so I knew I would know what is was soon.


To Be Continued...............................................................................

Breaking the Rule Barrier

Tick Tock Tick Tock…….. Even if there wasn’t a clock that somebody could hear out loud. I
could hear it. The wires connecting everything to everything making such an evident sound
anywhere, everywhere. Surrounding everything. Everything, but the actual world.

1:47 AM,
the bench dedicated to Haylor Mayne,
53 steps away from the side walk with a official orange streak on it,
the light pole with a bulb out.

I wanted to write more, so much more, but I couldn’t. Somebody was staring. Staring at me.
No - no -NO! They’re eyes. ALL of them. They were boring into my body. Straight into my soul.

Tap..TapTap.. Tap Tap Tap Tap.

My foot bounced, bounced, bounced, bounced.

Up down Up down.

Anybody could decode it. I was anxious,
I was excited,
I was nervous,
I so incredibly………… Anticipating

I was about do something. At the moment of this planning, I perceived that it was going to alter
my life permanently, but I felt it needed to be done. For I was doing something illegal.
Something the feds would for sure hunt me down for. I was accomplishing my greatest
challenge.

Break the Rules

And to do that I had to plant some nitroglycerin.

Growing Up and Loss of Innocence Villanelle

You miss when your thoughts would trail off like Butterflies
You miss the curiosity and lack wiseness 
With innocence gone, left only to Agonize.

You miss when actions all filled with surprise,
And never was moment of stillness,
You miss when your thoughts would trail off like Butterflies

Now all your thoughts, they only formalize
Because business is business is business, 
With innocence gone, left only to Agonize.

With creativity gone, its hard to cling onto lies 
You wish the world would again have their quickness, 
You miss when your thoughts would trail off like Butterflies,

But that's not the case, you had to compromise,
To become and adult and leave dream for consciousness, 
With innocence gone, left only to Agonize.

Now you are grown up left only to fantasize, 
To dream of former impulsiveness, 
You miss when your thoughts would trail off Butterflies,
With innocence gone, left only to Agonize

A True Horror Story

The silent breeze of the autumn winds gently stirred my hair, letting the fresh air of the colorful season brush by my forehead. Strolling through nature always gave me a feel of lively- ness. I was strolling home from a long day at school, which had mercifully come to an end. 

The joyous sound of a multitude of jubilant birds shared my feelings of the relief that it was finally the weekend. Colors of red and gold littered the surface of the earth, letting off a subtle crunching noise that gave my unhurried stride a harmonious noise. Golden leaves danced and fluttered, cascading downwards to join the floor of color and beauty. 

I should have noticed how quiet it was, too quiet. The breeze was a stranger breathing down my back, the crunching of the leaves were superimposed with the splashing noise of afternoon autumn puddles. All this bore down on me menacingly. The path seemed to hypnotize me, its rhythmic pattern of sound leading me on and on, until I was indiscreetly cornered. This was the feeling that scattered throughout my bones; the feeling that I was not alone. 

At the time I foolishly couldn’t have cared less. There was not a car in sight, the steady hum of a lawnmower in the distance, the song of the bluebird, and the harmonious patter of my stride was all my ears could perceive. I very nearly floated away in my thoughts like the gentle breeze which soothingly shook the elegant branches back and forth, back and forth, back and... then out of the blue, a noise from not four feet away to my right, blasted my thoughts into millions of pieces causing my startled heart jump a foot. For a moment the world seemed to stand still. The orderliness buzz ceased like a dog being muzzled, the power button being hit. The only sound to apprehend was the steady beat of my heart which drummed  through my body. 


The sound was but a crunch of autumn leaves, coming from so close it was like a firework going off by my foot, exploding in slow motion as it triggered my brain to go ecstatic alert signals flashing violently throughout my body. My head swiveled in the direction my whole body stiff as stone. The menacing figure stood rigid and deathly only just shy of arm reach, her eyes dark and unmoving as they closed in on mine. Her shadowy face seemed to leap out at me as she steadily held her gaze. I held my breath for what seemed an eternity, then all I could think was, “Oh deer.” She then completely ignored me and returned to her task of devouring a fresh clump of grass, then trotted off leaving me completely dumbstruck.

Quickwrite

It’s a part of human nature to lie to yourself. Every single human-being alive has lied to themselves. And I'm no exception. 
Humans lie to themselves because they want that lie to be the truth. They want the alternative reality where everything is peachy and everything goes exactly how they want it to. If a soccer team loses a game and they say that they were much better than the other team they probably weren't they just wish they were. I lie to myself all the time about things I wish were true.
I refuse to accept the truth because, in a way, I'm scared of the it. I lie about how people act towards me, about the way I look, about the way I act, and I lie to myself a lot; I'd say that one of my flaws is that I lie to myself so often. I can't accept that anything is my fault or that I'm wrong sometimes. 
It's also not always a bad thing to lie to yourself, it could help protect you from things that are too scary or painful to think about at that moment. But like with everything you must have self control with lying to yourself as well to make sure you can bring yourself back from your imaginary world so you can deal with your problems in real life. When danger is right in front of you and it's real enough you can sense everything around you, people start to lie to themselves. They want this danger to be gone so they lie to themselves that they are safe and that no danger is around. They are scared, and even hysterical, so they put themselves in a magical world where everything is fine. They just want to feel safe. Whenever I feel scared I lie to myself. If I'm walking home and a guy starts yelling at me and chasing me my mind is blank in the moment but after the fact I distort the truth and lie to myself to feel safe in my own home. The real truth or real danger or just reality scares people beyond their wits and it would make people go crazy if they didn't lie to themselves. 



Is There A Doctor in The House?

So, a while back in December, around the 11th and 12th, (if memory serves) tryouts for our school play were held by the Drama Department Director, Ms. Harms. This post will include a brief synopsis of the play and a link to a page featuring the playwright.

"Is There A Doctor in The House" is a comedy western adapted from the work of a famous, French 14th century playwright known as Molière that focuses on a girl that fakes losing her voice to avoid a forced marriage organized by her father. Multiple characters attempt to find solutions in the form of many different doctors. As such, when they all come back, it degrades into chaos. The performance utilizes fast-paced slapstick routines, one-liners and seemingly infinite repetition.

Come see our performance on Feb. 25th!

Course of fate

I could feel the brisk wind pulling me as I attempted to climb the slippery, paint covered cement. The sharp stench of spray paint gently whistled through my nose. As I mounted the inside of the colorful bridge, I could feel my hands stick to the paint covering the protracted beams beneath the bridge. Cars whistled over head as I found my balance, and embraced the drafty atmosphere. Turning my gaze to the ground far far below, my stomach slowly began to turn, and my eyes blurred a little at the rocks below. I scampered towards one of the massive pillars holding up the bridge. I practically collapsed on the pillar, as it was the only sustainable thing to hold. Without thinking, I clambered even higher, to one of the beams that extended across to the other side. With only a moments hesitation I began my journey across. My arms were drawn-out to a shaft above my head, in order to keep my balance all the way. Within moments, I had reached the other side and was securely leaned up against a pier. After being there for a length of time, I had forgotten that this was illegal.

I could faintly hear my sisters vocalizing amongst themselves. I couldn’t hear them all the way as I was in somewhat of a daze, admiring the world around me. I slowly came to and developed a slight paranoia that someone might catch us. I noticed some police lights flashing on the rocks above. I figured it was just just someone being pulled over and I didn’t have anything to worry about, but that didn’t stop me from worrying. It appeared that my sisters didn’t notice the lights, because they just kept chatting. My forehead began to drip, I yelled across the beam and told pointed at the lights. To my dismay, they didn’t hear me over their giggles. A couple of minutes later, I noticed someone strolling down the dirt road leading to the majestic falls. The cans. The cans were lying in the other side of the bridge, just out in the open. My eyes widened in frustration. It would take at least 30 seconds for me to get back across. Within a moment, I was on my feet and reaching up to the shaft. My feet wobbled a little as I gripped the plank. I steadily began to cross over the frigid water beneath the bridge. For a moment, I glanced over to the path. I could see now that the person was a woman, she looked pretty professional. Turning my glare back to the cans, I briefly noticed my sisters frantically scrambling to hide them as well.


I began to wonder who the woman was and what she was doing here. At that moment, my imagination swept me up. What if she was a police officer? Then, she would take us to the local police department because this place is closed. She would call our mom and then we would get picked up and lectured when we got home. If she was another person doing graffiti, she might cover our master piece. If she was a hood, she might demand that we leave, or call her gang out to toss us out. Nonsense. I told myself this was all nonsense and that she was probably just some person who snuck in just like we did, here to chill or something. I began to panic as she climbed the small slope up to the flat area near the rocks. She was drawing closer, and closer. All I thought to do was sit, and wait for fate to take its course on me.

The Walk of Terror

I trudged along a dirt trail eroded by the harsh changes of the seasons. It was an off road of a street that I took to school earlier this day. A quick  rustling in the bushes peaked my interest for a short while but then got pushed to the back of my mind in a matter of milliseconds. Then it was back a rustle in the trees almost as if someone was following me hidden by the swirling of the dried dying leaves and the warm rays of sunshine mixing together. I glanced up briefly noticing a bird swooping to a nearby branch above my head. As I continued walking I was at ease that the noises was a bird. Then there it was again the noise I froze not knowing what to do next. Then my mind ran wild for what it was coming up with the most gruesome and terrifying things that it could be what is it, what could it be, a man or a beast.
Then it stoped and I found my self looking into a pair of pitch black eyes focused on my face unwavering as it stared locking eye contact with me. I instinctively flinched as it went for me running me down at a pace that I could not meet. Materializing out of thin air a deer its golden hide making it devolve into the background mixing with the autumn leaves. I felt stupidly happy at the sight of it looking back I thought the deer was coming straight towards me when it was running away from me and more to that it was afraid of me.


Lies and Innocence


             Losing innocence is a scary thing, but lying to yourself about a situation in the attempt to save your innocence is an even scarier thought. When we watch the news we often turn it off after seeing that a person has been killed or that their is an active shooter on the loose. Things like this scary us so much that sometimes we go to extreme measures to convince ourselves that we are completely safe at all times. If you see on the news that their is an active shooter in the area you may go immediately to google maps to see for yourself just how far away the threat was last spotted. If your blue dot is too close to the location pin you might try typing in the address again or even zooming in on the map so it gives the illusion that the danger is farther away than it really is. We lie to ourselves for the feeling of safety and comfort. Most people don’t want to lose that innocence so instead they push away all the things that make them uncomfortable. I think we lie to protect our innocence everyday. We tell ourselves that these things aren’t really happening in our world. Things like war, discrimination, hate crimes, judgement, danger, hatred, drugs, economical problems, government, and fear are all things that we ignore in hopes of saving our childlike innocence. Living in such a safe neighborhood I often don’t realize the pain and suffering that is going on in the world. In the book, The Outsiders , Ponyboy and Cherry come to a sudden realization that we all see the same sunrise and sunset. We feel so disconnected to the pain of the “real world” because we are constantly lying to ourselves. We are locked in a gilded cage of lies when outside of the cage lies hurt, fear, anxiety, and worry, but often times we never fully experience these things because of our need for protection. Would the world be a different or maybe better place if we let ourselves truly experience pain? Would we have more sympathy? Would we be more willing to help others if we truly knew what they were going through? Can it be a good thing to lose innocence and gain the knowledge of the real world? Personally, I think that each way has its pros and cons. Keeping innocence keeps you in a near perfect world, but you will never really feel for those on pain. Your lies will will block true connections with you and the ones who need you the most. If you lose innocence and knock down the wall of lies then you have the added pain and fear from always being aware of the danger around you, but on the contrary you will build relationships you never would have dreamed of creating. Your connections will be stronger and you will experience things with all truth. In a perfect world we would have both, but unfortunately or fortunately, depending on how you look at it, we have to choose which life we would like to live. What life will you choose?

Miss Nameless

Her name? No. No she does not have a name. She was not given a name, most likely she doesn’t deserve a name. Why is she here? No one knowns. But for now let’s leave her as.. skinless… boneless… hardly even there. Do you get the image?
Miss skinless, sits everyday in the same place, she goes unnoticed. Her scarf overflowing her petite coat. Her boot cuffs topple over her jeans. She doesn’t ever change. She is always the same. Most of her spectators like it that way. 
Her face is forgettable. The only way I can describe it is that it is the most bland, most boring, most expected thing ever. If you were to spot this sight you would easily forget her. She wears the same thing and does almost nothing. I have seen her everyday of my life and still I forget her. Miss boneless has no emotion painting her face, but her eyes tell a different story. They show that of a frightened child, lying through her teeth every second she speaks. She never changes. 
Why do people notice her? Because it’s the only stable thing in there quaint town. Everyday she sits there, staring, while everyone else is stressing and bustling. She goes unnoticed most the time, but to those who pay attention, you will see her. 

Go outside, take a moment and look for her. She will be there.

The Night Everything Changed.....

The sky was a dark blue that night, you could point out every little star. The ambulance sirens began to be drowned out by the city around. The lights faded away as the vehicle traveled further and further. All I could focus on was the stars that night, the night my life was flipped on it’s head. My life was like a movie which the writer decided to flip the script before I was finally going to escape. 

Fear Quickwrite

--Note: This story is probably not my favourite, but my editor partner person seemed to like it. Please do me a favour and avoid judging me. Thanks :) --

I was walking down a lonely path, admiring the brightly coloured leaves that hung from the tall trees around me. My burgundy converse lightly fell against the dirt trail, the deep red colour blending quite nicely with the reds and yellows of the leaves scattered across the ground. It was a rather nice day, autumn sunlight glimmering down through the crisp air. Being the introvert I am, I had been content to walk the winding trails that circled my neighbourhood in solitude. In hindsight, perhaps that wasn’t the best idea. I’m not saying I would’ve been any less scared if I had been with someone. Maybe it would’ve been worse. Regardless, I was scared. For some odd reason I’ve recently developed an odd sense of paranoia about walking/running/riding on horseback/traversing through nature or wooded areas. It’s actually quite dumb, I know. But as I walked along the cheery path, a rustling noise from the trees jarred me from my quiet thoughts. It was a quiet noise, nothing even remotely alarming. However, it struck me as more than just the wind rushing through the trees or a bird taking flight. No, that was a human-kind-of rustling. I kept walking, what else could I do? If I acted as though I hadn’t heard, maybe I’d be safe. Heart beating in my ears, I continued along the path. Against my will, my footsteps quickened slightly, the crunching of dirt beneath my shoes the only sound in the quiet air. Only moments before, the silence had comforted me, but now it filled my mind, adding to my anxiety. I endured several minutes of this, my gaze darting around from one shadow to another. The anticipation slowly built up, nearly giving me a heart attack as another rustling noise shattered the silence. Eyes widening, I couldn’t stop myself from turning this time. Fear coursed through me, irrational fear. It was irrational, right? How could I be afraid of- My heart stopped as I saw a branch move, swaying in the wind. 

--As I said, pathetic. Yes. I was scared of a branch. But please understand that it wasn't the branch. It was the whole idea of what it could be. So... this story is surprisingly unexaggerated. I may have changed a few minor details for the benefit of the story, but other than that, yeah. Feel free to laugh at me in the comments.--

The Tic Tac story



 One day after my mom and I finished shopping at city market, Mom went to the self check out and I went to look at the candy. The candy shelf was conveniently place behind the self check out so I was easy to not be spotted.
 Being the stupid little kid I was when I really wanted I would do what ever it took to get that something. Whether it was throwing a tantrum, or doing something that I knew was wrong. In this case I did  something I knew was wrong. The one candy I would look at in particular was the tic tacs. It was so easy to open and so susceptible to stealing.  So I would take a container of tic tacs off the shelf  and I would  open it and pour some in my hand and eat it. Then, I would  put it back on the shelf half gone and go on my merry little way. 
 I stopped doing that for multiple reasons, for one my family started watching a crime show and one episode was a young boy getting busted for shoplifting. That really hit me hard, it did not want to get talked to by a police officer. Two, my mom caught me. That is a story all on its own, and three, this took awhile, but I finally  look up only to find there was a security camera right over me the whole time. The real question is, I wonder why city market never caught me? 

 To be honest I knew I was doing something wrong, but I never thought it was that bad. I never thought I would get caught. I think people will eventually learn the difference from good and bad, but I don't think people know from birth. I think you have to be taught. Now that being said I don't think that just because people know what is wrong and right does not mean that they the necessarily will follow that. Bank robbers know that robbing a bank is wrong, but they still do it. I knew that what I was  doing was wrong, but I still did. 

Losing Your Innocence: Good or Bad



       Everyone has to lose their innocence at one point in order to grow in their life. I lost part of my innocence at the age of ten when I shot my first deer. I had fallen asleep in the blind while staring at a barren field. I awoke to my dad telling me it was time to leave, so I got up and opened the door of the blind. When I looked out I was shocked that there was a young buck standing out in a field behind the blind. I quickly got into position to shoot. When I first shot at it I missed do to nervousness about my decision to actually kill it and because it was my first time hunting for deer. I then regained my composure and made a clean shot dropping the deer where it stood.

When I walked up to the deer I felt sad at first because I had ended the life of the deer. Once we started to clean it and harvest all of its meat I started to feel a lot better about it because I knew it was going to good use.

When someone says they are innocent they mean that they haven’t seen many bad things in their life such as violence, drugs or alcohol, and death. When Cherry says to Ponyboy that he is not innocent, she is thinking of all the violence he must witness being in a gang and the fights he has seen and been in. She also knows that he has seen a lot of drugs and alcohol among his own family already. These are things that would cause Cherry to think that Ponyboy is no longer innocent.

Losing your innocence can be a good thing because you are introduced to the reality of life and it means you are growing up. It can also be a bad thing if it happens to someone at a very young age because they may become scared or afraid of things or people due to an event they witnessed. Some people try to lie to themselves about losing their innocence but if they do they will never fully grow in their life, and never have a chance to move past the thought of losing their innocence.

I realized at that point that I had lost part of my innocence witnessing and killing an animal , but it helped lead to many great memories with friends and family and to a new insight in life.

Quickwrite Post

Innocence is kind of like being naive. You don't have many problems and you aren't as aware of how cruel the world can be. Many things can take someone's innocence. It can range from people, accidents, natural causes, most anything can. You could see something happen to others, happen to you, even just knowing they're happening make you lose a little bit of innocence. Ponyboy’s parents died, Cherry knows how tough that must be for a young kid. Johnny is abused, that makes him lose his innocence.

Not being innocent isn't a good or bad thing. If you are innocent, I suppose ignorance is bliss. If you aren't innocent, you can take and see things how they are. With one you are naive and happy. The other, wise and cautious. Both have pros and cons. It's not good to be so innocent that anything can hurt you, that you can blindly let things go when you shouldn't. You also shouldn't be so guarded that life is dull and you push everything away out of defense. People can't decide how innocent they are, innocence can be taken in a moments notice. Innocence is lost when you face reality.

 People also lose innocence differently. Some things affect other people more. Someone who is more innocent will take tragedy very hard and someone who is less innocent is more tolerant to life's downs. We all try to protect ourselves and other people from losing innocence, everyone sane at least. Most humans are empathetic by nature, we might even connect ourselves to other people who have lost innocence, and lose a bit ourselves.

The Ride Home

“See ya Frank!” I hollered as I began to turn over my cranks to start the steady decent down the hill. As I made my way down the hill I realized I was late, I knew I should have been home at least an hour ago. I looked up and noticed the sky was near black and I could barely see. Though the sky was black it was a type of black that looked powerful. It was rich, the purest of pure, with the gray clouds letting only a small amount of the moon’s light through. This made me stress even more. As I made the turn at the bottom of the hill something caught my eye. I quickly skidded to a stop and looked down, sweet it was 10 bucks! The bill was soaked and ripped, but still useable.
As I focused on lining my feet up with the petals of my bike I heard a thud. I didn't think much of it. Then there it was again, at first I thought it was coming from me. It sounded like a giant beast taking steps, breaking through the concrete with each step it took. Panicking I fumbled my feet as I hurried to stick them to the petals. Once they were secured I quickly turned my cranks as fast as my legs would let me. I heard it coming close behind me. At the sound of another thud, I spun my head around and just barely out of the corner of my eye I saw a giant ball of fur. I paused. It was just a bear stuck in a trash can. This relived me, it wasn't that far away, and it didn't even seem to notice me. I soon escaped the pounding and realized I was alone once again.

Though I knew there was nothing to be afraid of I still felt the need to rush home in a panic. I justified this by telling myself it was because I was gonna be late, but really I knew it was because I was scared of what was really out there. I continued to jump at every small sound until I was able to throw my bike in the yard and bolt inside. I quietly shut the door to the house as I hustled in. I took a sigh of relief that was quickly interrupted by my mother’s frustrated call of my name. I quietly said to myself, “At least I'm home safe.”
I stuttered the first letter but pulled back the urge, the struggle to just lightly let the word slip out, for a quick and powerful blow. My inner self was screaming at me to don’t, don’t, stop, don’t do it. I was proud not to use the powerful and hurtful word, but the look of despair and rage on my sisters face opened me to the fact that I let the word slip, and to the regret of it all.

There are certain social rules that we all must follow to assure ourselves the highest of social class. These days people worry more about the social rules society has created then actual rules made by governments and towns. I have broken some of these laws occasion, and I will now tell the stories of these occurrences, and how I broke the rules.

Social rule one, keeping Snapchat streaks, this is gonna be short, I’ve never had a streak over around 8, and yes that’s bad, but I don’t really like the whole taking a picture of room and writing a red s across the screen. Moving on

Social rule two, never deny a high five. I am the firmest believer of all believers in this rule, you can ask anyone. But I still have broken this rule, but with reason. Previously that day Max Goede went up for a high five in which I shot my hand as fast and hard as I could to get the maximum high five contact. He pulled away before the contact, making me hate the inside of him with passion. Later in the day I returned the favor, so I had reason

Social rule three, respond to a text as soon as possible. I’m pretty sure everyone has broken this one, but I’ve decided to still place it in here. There’s been the occasional scenario, where I’ve seen a text, decided it’s not important, and decided not to respond. Don’t hate me. It just happens, but usually only for random texts that don’t have any important value. Moving on.

Fourth and Biggest social rule, for only people with siblings. Don’t mention big breakups when fighting with sister. My sister and I really don’t fight often, but about a two years ago, we were in a pretty big fight, I have no idea what about. The thing was, I was pretty heated, as my sister had just gone through a break up. Suddenly I had a terrible idea. I could win this fight by playing unfair. I never ever ever won fights, I was 11 and she was 15, she just had more tactics, and more experience. I thought maybe I could just mention his name, just to win this one fight. But my morales tried to stop me. I stuttered the first letter but pulled back the urge, the struggle to just lightly let the word slip out, for a quick and powerful blow. My inner self was screaming at me to don’t, don’t, stop, don’t do it. I was proud not to use the powerful and hurtful word, but the look of despair and rage on my sisters face opened me to the fact that I let the word slip, and to the regret of it all. That just made everything worse, and I lost the fight anyway. 

So those are the social rules I’ve broken, I regret all of them. But they happened. And in the end, these rules don’t matter...

Rules Quickwrite

    My first thought of something I have done against the rules brings me back to kindergarten. I had half days in school, so I went to the daycare for the other half waiting for my mom to get off work. Almost every day I had a juice box, and for some reason I didn’t like to throw them away. I would throw the actual box and plastic straw away, just not the plastic wrapper around the straw. You know what I am talking about, the plastic wrapper around it that you lose half the time anyways?
    I would hold the juice box in one hand, and the straw wrapper in the other, walk around the classroom for a little bit (to wear of suspicion of others) then… BOOM!!! I did it, I nonchalantly dropped the wrapper to the ground.
     //I realize this story is really idiotic. It would have taken the same time and energy to just throw the wrapper into the trash rather than having elaborate plans to litter across the classroom.
But whatever.
I was 5, in kindergarten.//
    I would get super anxious of being caught, I went day after day as a 5-year-old criminal.
    I was never caught.
        Or they didn’t care.

RIP "Honest John"

It was a great day for launching rockets. There was no wind, no one around, and a new rocket ready for her maiden voyage. I put a D12-5 engine in the “Honest John”, an engine a bit to powerful for the rocket, but I kinda wanted to see the rocket explode. I connected the igniter to the engine, and the remote control to the igniter. The “Honest John” must have gone at least 2,500 feet, cause I lost a visual immediately after liftoff. The parachute deployed on time and the rocket sailed gently down. The “Honest John” landed about 25 yards from the launch site. It touched down about 20 feet from the only other kid in the park. I walked over to recover the rocket when the other kid started to approach me. He looked to be about 16, had blond hair,  and was pretty short and plump. As I picked up the “Honest John” the kid went off on me. He told me how the rocket was going mach one and how it landed two feet away and almost killed him. I told him he was full of it and started to walk off. He yelled that he was sorry and that when he was little he launched a rocket and it exploded in his face, so now he is paranoid of them. When he asked to see the “Honest John” I felt bad for him and forked it over. The second he got it he broke it over his knee and took off. On his “great escape” he yelled that his story was made up, and said “don't mess with the O’Doyle’s”. I was pissed. It took me about two weeks two build that rocket and I wanted to be the one to destroy it, not some human bowling ball. I never told anyone about this experience because I was red revenge. I got out one of my rockets from when I was young, the “High Jinx” to be exact, and went back to the park a week later. I secured the rocket mount to a piece of plywood, got the rocket ready to launch, and slid the “High Jinx” on the rocket mount. I pointed the rocket towards the the kids car, and pushed the ignition button. In hindsight I should have just put an engine under his car and launched it, but that wouldn't be much of a story would it. The “High Jinx” flew reasonably strait and hit the tire. The tired exploded as I watched in awe. The kid came flying out of his house after he heard the “boom” of the tire. He saw me at the park, mesmerized at the sight, and started sprinting towards me. Now I'm a reasonably smart kid, so I had a trailer attached to my bike for a quick getaway. The chunker never stood a chance. He has never found me.

Blood Mountain Pt. 1

The Appalachian Trail between Blood Mountain and Hiawassee presents an early challenge for thru-hikers in the earliest stages of their journey toward main, both due to the terrain and the notorious reputation of area. Blood Mountain, a tough climb in itself, is made even more of a challenge due to its reputation for harrassment and unfortunate interaction between the backcountry Georgia locals and hikers attempting the climb. Indeed, the shelter on top of the mountain, just a mile from highway __, is permanetly closed to campers. The year I attempted my thru-hike, a female backpacker was abducted at gunpoint from the shelter, and was reported missing for some time until her corpse was recovered by a search party some weeks later.

Having reached the southern base of Blood Mountain the previous night, my second on the AT, I was determined to make an early summit and push for a long day to make it to the shelter before the road to Hiawassee, nearly 20 miles down the trail, in a single day. However, that night, I had endured my first encounter with the most ferocious, tenacious, and terrifying beasts I would encounter on the trail: the common field mouse. Starved by a dearth of natural food sources in late Spring, these tiny terrors had learned that they could live in abundance in the various shelters that dotted the trailside every few miles. Night after night, they thrived on the various crumbs human backpackers would inevitably leave behind, and once darkness fell, would run rampant along the shelter walls as they began a nocturnal feast. Though I would eventually become acustomed to the nightly mice raids, that night I had slept little as the fearless rodents fell like rain from the rafters, making little ploping noises on my sleeping bag when they happend to fall. I spent the night hours huddled at the bottom of my sleeping bag, holding the open end closed, hoping none of the fearsome creatures were motivated enough to gnaw their way into my safe space. Though the vicious rodents had dissapeared by the time the sun returned the next morning, I found one last trace of their terror when I went to drink from my Camelback — apparantly in their desparation for food, one mouse had decided to gnaw apart the bite valve, which I hadn’t thought to pack away with my other supplies. Unfortunately it wasn’t until after I had put the end of the tube into my mouth that I noticed this regrettable fact. Needless to say, I was delayed in my departure that morning, but managed to begin my ascent up Blood Mountain and make progress toward my goal, albeit at bit sleep deprived (and thirsty).

Despite its macabre name and reputation, I remember a beautiful morning as I climbed toward the top of the open, rocky summit. As I reached the top, I met a few other day hikers, and spent a few minutes resting in the ancient shelter on top. Unlike most newer shelters on the Appalachian Trail, this one was fully enclosed, and made of stone blocks. It was unusual to build a shelter on top of a mountain, with no reliable water source. The insides of the stone walls were covered with 60+ years of graffiti, which gave it a threatening aura. I didn’t want to imagine how it might have felt for the poor female thru-hiker who had been abducted only weeks before from this very spot. There were still missing person notices describing her appearance and last known location, even though her decaying corpse had been recovered weeks before.

Saturday, February 3, 2018

She Won’t Cry Anymore


 She could still remember what he said. The tone of his voice. The way he looked at her. Discussed. He didn’t love her. He never loved her. So how could she have let him down? How was this her fault? They both knew what happened. Why it happened. She could have stopped it. She knew she could have. But if she had the chance, would she? Would she have left everything to protect what’s already been broken?


Though she knew it had ended, nothing could stop the sultry tears from pouring down her hot face. She still wanted to save it. The last of his love. A shriek of terror. This was the end of her. She couldn’t take it. The unbearable pain. Her heart. She let him break her heart. The one thing she had left. The one thing she needed. He broke it. Ripped it out of her chest, and thrown it into a volcano. Still feeling the burning pain. Her heart is gone. She is gone.

Friday, February 2, 2018

The Worst of Us

I did it
Yeah, “it”
“That”
Whatever you want to call it
The unspeakable

      …

I broke the rule
The one rule 
The untouchable 
I just had to do it
It was more tempting than anything I’ve ever seen, tasted, or heard 
Because now I’ve gone and done it, it'll hurt everyone
You
Me
That guy over there
Everyone

      …

Why did I do it
I don’t even know why
Stuck in this eternal loop 
Of guilt
Of paranoia
And of course
Regret
Now I’m going to be questioning myself endlessly
Not just me though
Everyone

      …

What are they going to do to me
Beat me
Kill me
Take all I have
What else
All I want 
All I love
What else

      …

I did it 
And now
The world is (kind of) ending

      …

Although
If you actually think about it 
It wasn’t my fault
Thank God 
I knew there was something wrong with this whole mess
I mean
Just really think about it

      …

There’s no reason for you to blame me
What evidence do you have
Exactly
So
Reconsider my proposal 
Does it look good
Agreed 
Now it’s all on him
All the shame
The blame
Coupled with a bit of fame

      …

I’ll let you in on a secret 
It was me
The whole time
Yeah
I had the same reaction too
Priceless
Isn’t it
Now just think
I went from the villain 
Right to the top
A true hero
Yeah I know
A real good joke
    
  …





Did I Ever Tell You The Definition Of Insanity?

(This is a censored version of a quote from the game “Far Cry 3.” The main villain monologues this to you because... I don’t know. Because...