Friday, April 8, 2011

Twist Ending Story

            Sophie Runing P.2
Short Story
            I am going to tell this story exactly how I can remember.
            It all started back when Kevin and I were in kindergarten together. He was new in town and I was adventurous. Kevin moved into the house right across the street from mine. We would always play house together in my tree house, or run through the sprinklers in our bathing suits, or on the days when I really felt nice we would play dress up for me and super heroes for him. We did everything together that year, and every year up until our sophomore year in high school. As far as I can remember back, Kevin and I never got into any fights, sure we disagreed, but we were the best of friends and a silly argument was not going to break that.
            I remember back in the third grade, we were at recess one fall afternoon. It was a little chilly out and I had spilled juice all over my jacket. So Kevin kindly offered me his. It was extremely large and had patches all over it. I looked like an overstuffed marshmallow in it. A group of boys came up to me and started teasing me; they pushed me to the ground and threw rocks at me. Kevin saw this and ran over to the group of boys, you could see the anger in his eyes, his face flush red. He approached the boy who initially pushed me to the ground and threw a punch right at his nose. The boy fell to the ground crying, while the others started to push and shove Kevin. Teachers came running to the scene to take him to the principal’s office. He told me later that day that when the principal asked why he did such a thing he said,
            “I don’t like seeing Rachel get hurt.”
That night Kevin’s mother got a phone call from the principal, and explained everything that happened that day. When the principal told his mother what he had said his mother burst into to tears, hung up the phone, and hugged Kevin for the longest time.
            I will never forget that day. That was the first time anyone had really stood up for me.
            When Kevin and I got into high school we were still very good friends, but we had other friends and choose our own paths. Kevin was smart, athletic, and popular. I was weak, and socially awkward. I became involved with drugs and alcohol. When a big party over the weekend was busted by the cops everyone blamed me for it. I had been in the upstairs bedroom with a guy that I don’t even know the name of. He pressured me into having sex with him and when I refused he hit me over the head, the next thing I remember was waking up on the bed around midnight, and it felt like I had just been hit by a train. I called the cops suspecting I had been raped. I had no clue that everyone was still downstairs. When the cops showed up they initially asked for Rachel Windorff, but when the police noticed the aroma of alcohol in the air, that’s when everyone was in trouble. Many of the kids at the party were fined and given a minor, unfortunately they never figured out who was in the room with me that night.
            For the next few months I was teased, threatened, bullied, humiliated, picked on, and anything else that could make you feel like you’re the most worthless piece of shit in the world. That was when I turned to Kevin. He took me under his wing, walking me to every single one of my classes. He drove me to school, and even sat with me at lunch. He couldn’t stand the fact that I was being tortured the way I was for something that wasn’t my fault.
            Everyday I would walk home after school. Kids would drive by and yell vulgar words, and say horrible things. They would throw things at me: soda cans, food, even rocks. When Kevin found out that this happened he took action into his own hands. Unfortunately it was not the least bit healthy way to take care of the problem.
            Rewinding back to the third grade, we were playing super heroes in his house on a rainy afternoon. Kevin was hiding from me in hopes that I, being the villain, would not find him. I ran downstairs into the basement as my last resort and hope to find him. Sure enough I did. When I got downstairs he was holding his dads riffle. It was enormous for his hands and the weight was unbearable for a third grader. He gave it to me and I immediately dropped because it was so heavy. His mom raced downstairs with the sound of the thud emanating on the floor. Kevin was holding the gun when his mom reached the end of the stairs. She froze in her steps, and said,
            “Honey please put that back right where you found it right this instant!”
            Kevin did just as his mother told him to. She raced towards us and started reprimanding him. Kevin had no idea what he was getting in trouble for; he didn’t think he had done anything wrong. A couple years ago we talked about what happened that day. He said he never even thought about how bad the situation could have ended up. That was the first, but not the last time he held a gun.
            The day was April 26th 2010. Exactly two months after the party incident had happened. The teasing was still going on. Kevin told me not to worry, that everything was going to okay; he would take care of it. I thought that meant that he would go and talk to the kids bullying me. That is not what it meant in his mind though.
            I believe that everyone has a little depression in them. About four years ago, Kevin’s dad committed suicide. It came from out of the blue. No one even would have thought he was the slightest bit sad because he always seemed happy. As Kevin and I took our separate ways, we didn’t have the same connection we had had before. I couldn’t tell when he was having a bad day, or he just got grounded at home.
            7:30, April 26th 2010, the bell rang; everyone took their seats in homeroom. The day was going completely normal; the usual push or shove in the hallway, degrading comments said from across the hall etcetera. When lunch came around Kevin showed up late. I didn’t think anything of it until he sat down and said,
            “Sorry I’m late, I was just getting prepared, you know?”
            I acted like I knew what he was talking about when really I had no clue in the world what was going on. The straight out of the blue, Kevin pulled out a hauntingly familiar object, the gun we had “played with” as kids.
            “Kevin, what the hell do you think you’re doing right now? Put that down!” I exclaimed at the site of the riffle sitting comfortably in his hand, as if he had been practicing.
            “This is for your own good, Rachel.” He said. Then climbed up on the table and proclaimed himself as if he was king of the school.
            “LISTEN UP! Many of you have been torturing my best friend Rachel, for a mistake that didn’t mean any harm. I am sick and tired of all the bullying that has been happening to her. IT ENDS NOW!” And with those words, he opened fired on the cafeteria filled with innocent kids, students, athletes, merit scholars, big sisters, little brothers, captains, band enthusiast, friends, and family. I covered my head, the next thing I know I am being carried out to a crowd of people and at least twenty ambulances. Slowly I awoke to come back to reality. Then the shock set in. I started screaming and once again passed out in the EMT’s arms.
            When I woke up I was laying in a hospital bed, my family all surrounding me. A bullet had ricochet off of me and hit me in the arm. Waking up and feeling the love from my family, everything turned to a blur from there.
            Kevin is in jail for what he did. He wants to talk to me but I don’t think I will ever go and talk to him; maybe when I am older. For now I will carry with me that fact that a sick minded teenager, stuck up for me in the worst possible way. That day 4 teachers, 13 students, and 2 faculty members were shot and killed. This memory will be something that stays with me forever and ever.

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Daily Journal- About the Class

-the poetry unit: new ways of writing, different looks on writing, different ways to write poetry
-lyrics: new song everyday, wide variety, good start to the morning
-sitting where i want to sit
-lots of freedom
-daily journals: free prompts where i could write about anything, pictures were easy to write about
-short stories with a twist ending: free to write about anything, add own personal experiences and writing styles
-minimal homework
-time to work on homework in class
-new writing sites to look at for future class projects
-the science fiction story: it was a hard topic to write about, hard to come up with something science fiction if your not into that subject. difficult to fill 5 pages
-daily journals: boring prompts, hard to write about prompts
-the twist ending story we read on the Internet: extremely boring!

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Daily Journal-Worst Experience at a Restaurant

I hate my job. I work at a pizza place and every time I come home from work I smell like a giant, greasy, onion. To make things even worse, I smell like that the next day no matter what I do. When you first walk into the restaurant you get a giant waft of the pizza aroma. After about 10 minutes it goes away and you just acquire the smell. The uniform that I wear has a permanent smell of pizza and onions on it no matter how many times I wash it it will be there for eternity. When I am working I can feel my skin become greasy and oily from the grease of the pizza in the air. Touchy all the cold, wet, slimy, greasy ingredients is a pain because then it gets under your nails and all over your hands, which makes them smell even worse. There is so much work that also goes into making the pizzas. Most of them are gourmet pizzas so they have an enormous amount of strange toppings on them. Also when putting the ingredients on the pizza they must go in a special order according to the way they cook. Preparing the boxes that the pizzas are delivered in is also a pain. They give you cardboard slivers and cut your hands. The worst part about my job is all the dishes. For every pizza there is at least two dishes to wash. The pans that the pizzas are baked in have burned ingredients stuck to them along with grease all over them. All the utensils that go into preparing the ingredients seems like it takes 5 years to wash them all. Everything is prepared in the store. We make our own sauce, dough, we cut all the vegetables, as well as prepare little dipping sauces. This calls for a lot of tedious work that is excruciatingly boring. All the cleaning that goes into the job is off the chart. Mopping floors, cleaning the counters, tables and walls, changing dirty ingredient buckets. I hate my job.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Daily Journal-Restaurant

I would open a snack shop up on daytona beach in florida. I would also have a store in tamarindo, costa rica on playa tamarindo. I would sell snack foods, meals, smoothies, and all different drink assortments. The restaurant would be a little shack on the edge of the beach, you could eat there at the bar or simply take your food to go. College kids work at my restaurant as well as other randoms. My restaurant would be a big success because daytona beach is a very busy place, and everyone gets hungry and thirsty at the beach, especially on spring break.

Monday, April 4, 2011

Sciece Fiction Story

 July 16th 2011:
            Today has been an extreme break through kind of day. For the past five years now I have been studying aliens; their encounters, their trails left behind, and their sightings around the world. It was tonight that everything has now come together. I was sitting on my back porch, the time was about 12:30 pm, when out of the middle of nowhere in the big black sky, a flash of what looked like lightning came shooting out of the sky. I knew that it was not lightning because the light zapped down but then shined on a specific spot, not moving for about 2 minutes. My mouth dropped at the site of this. The light was extremely bright, but the strike was dead silent. Coming from the sky was a faint green light at the source of the bright, beaming strobe light. I wanted to go get my video camera but didn’t want to miss anything. I have captured a picture on my phone for evidence but the light was so intense the picture turns out a shining white.
 July 17th 2011:
            I met with my friend Gregory Smirnoff for lunch today. He works with the CIA and is extremely involved at the white house. He was in the military for awhile but while on leave took up a job with the CIA. Now he is studying intensively on aliens and creatures from outer space to help provide answers to the public on their sightings of foreign creatures. Gregory has always giving me insight on things he has been working on but nothing as extensive as what he told me today. He claims that the government is working with the aliens. They have come up with a way to communicate with them and have become allies with the aliens to try and take over the world. The government wants to wipe out massive amounts of people to start fresh with a new way of life. Advancements in technology and weapons, ways of eating and life would all be renewed in the wipeout of the universe. I was in shock when I heard this come out of my best friend’s mouth. At first I didn’t believe it but now it is really starting to sink in. I am worried for my life.
July 18th 2011:
            I cannot believe how fast word can travel. I am now on a flight to Italy, hoping it will buy me some time. The CIA found out that Gregory leaked word of their mass destruction and ally plans with the aliens. It turns out the Gregory had shared this information not just with me but with all his family and friends. He said he did it to keep them all safe. Instead it was just the opposite. Searches have gone out to capture the ones Gregory had told about the secret information. That is why I am on this plane to Italy. I need more research and more evidence to convince others that what the U.S has going on behind walls is true.
July 20th 2011:
            I cannot remember what happened to me yesterday. The last thing that I can recall is stepping off the airplane and experiencing intense heat along with an extreme bright light. I am in an unfamiliar place. There is gas blowing out of pipes and many different pieces of equipment that I have never been exposed to before. Lights are dim and all I have with me is the clothes on my back and the journal and pen in my hand. It is like I am an animal trapped inside a cage. I am very afraid.
July 23rd 2011:
It is cold where I am and I am very hungry. Last night I heard noises coming from the hallway that is right down from where I am being held captive. I can see glowing from down the hall way and small foreign noises in the distance. Still there is not a sight of any human. I do not know where I am and will probably die in the near future. If you find this journal please do not destroy it, it is the only thing left of me on this earth.
July 24th 2011:
            I am utterly speechless as to what has happened to me today. Yes I am back in my cage but I saw aliens in the flesh, along with humans, secret service men of the United States. I am appalled that they are using me for my information and are holding me captive. I find out that I am in a space ship run by aliens. The humans took me out of my cage last night to feed me. The sat me down and demanded answers. How did I find out about aliens, where did I get my information? All these questions I couldn’t answer for the fact that it was my information and to help save my friends butt. Now that I am exposed to who is keeping my hostile I will no longer be able to live a normal life again.
July 26th 2011:
            Everyone demands answers. They hit me, taunt me, tease me, and threaten me for answers. I am nearing breaking my edge. Next time they ask me questions I will answer them. I give myself no choice but to cave in rather than be beat and brutalized.  
July 28th 2011:
            Yesterday I was asked questions and had no choice but to answer. They accepted what I had to say but never believed what I had to say. They still tortured me and taunted me but once I started to give them answers about how I had been tracking alien encounters for the past 10 years they started listen. I had told them about how I had seen bright lights just days before I was taken and how the etchings in the streets of New York City matched up with what I had read in books and on the internet. They had recorded everything that I had said and kept me locked in a room for me to sit and think about more information that I could tell them.
August 2nd 2011:
            The aliens are almost human like. They look just like humans, their body statures are a little taller then what a normal human would be and their hair is very dark brown. When they get angry their mouths open extremely large and their fangs shoot out of their mouth. The way they exercise is they battle each other. One usually ends up critically injured or killed. I got the opportunity to walk around the space ship today. Everything is so much more advanced than I thought it would have been. One young alien boy showed me around, he took me into the kitchen and fed me this extremely disgusting but yet interesting food that they eat for snacks. He showed me where he lived and introduced me to his family. I had a normal dinner with them and they had said that none of the aliens are responsible for what has happened with the U.S encounters. It is their head of government and army officials that have agreed to cave into the U.S and their nasty goals for the World. We came up with a plan to resist against the government and military control. I am going to send a message back to everyone I know explaining what is going to happen and Zeda, the young alien boy, is going to rally everyone and resist what the government has planned for the future. It is extremely risky but if it means saving millions of lives I am willing to risk my own.

This was all the journals we found from the source. She is nowhere to be found.

Daily Journal-Picture

I just got so angry at my old girlfriend that I smashed the lamp she gave me with the chair she gave me.  She was never a very nice person although she was always buying me gifts. For example, that god awful chair that I am smashing the hideous lamp with were both gifts from her. She thought that making things was much better then going out and buying things but in the end she was always buying items to make her crap out of. It is a relief not to have her in my life anymore. She cramped my style and cluttered my space. As a result of us meeting is this photo that basically describes our relationship.
The table was also made by her to. Piece of crap.

Friday, April 1, 2011

Daily Journal-Behind Her the Noise Escalated

Behind her the noise escalated and screaming voices grew stronger. Sitting at the front of the roller coaster her heart was pumping faster then it had ever beat before. The climb was nearing the top and the drop was at our finger tips. Up up and over the roller coaster went. Screaming girls and yelling boys all threw there arms up in the air without a care in the world. Dips and drops and curves and turns jolted everyone in their seats. Upside down loop de loops made everyone scream for dear life. Into the tunnel, smile for the camera! As the ride came to its end everyone was energized by excitment. Rushing out of their seats to take a look at their photo and sprint back into line to ride again.