From the beginning of time came the god of the sun of an ancient civilization, located in present day Netherlands . The name of Zon shook mountains and tore through earth, only for his own satisfaction of destroying. Zon was created out of nothing, but he only ruled everything because he generated a mass amount of fear within people. Zon’s twin brother, Maan, presided over the moon. The brothers watched over humankind on the planet Earth. Zon and Maan were polar opposites, Zon known for being boastful and arrogant, while Maan was more withdrawn.
For thousands of years, Maan thought Zon to be an unfit ruler. It troubled him to think the Earth’s fate resided in such a loathsome leader. Anger steamed and boiled within Maan. One day, he developed a plan to rid the world of Zon forever. Maan knew if he made a direct attack, Zon would defeat him. So he did something unexpected.
About five thousand years ago from today, an ordinary human was having an extraordinary dream. Alida could have sworn the moon was talking in her dream. She heard him say, “I grant you the powers of a sorceress, to overthrow the tyrant Zon. Do this and be showered with riches beyond imagination. Fail, and receive a fate worse than death.”
When Alida awoke, she soon found the message in the dream to be true. Alida had the power of a great sorceress and was able to manipulate anything to her will.
For several weeks she taught herself how to use her new powers. Through her training, she learned from many suitable teachers who specialized in magic. As it seemed she was exceptionally gifted when using magic, it was not long until she became a powerful sorceress and was well known throughout the country. Every night she would receive a dream from Maan urging her to destroy Zon but her response was always, “When I am ready, I will fight him.”
She was kindhearted and fair to the people of the Netherlands and she only used her magic for the benefit of the people, but after many seasons, her kindness turned into bitterness. Alida began to wonder why she should be so kind and helpful to these people when they had done nothing for her in return. Paired with the insistence from the moon god to kill Zon, she was driven over the edge.
At first, it was small things. Ignoring distress calls of failing crops or letting the sick die. Villagers pestered and begged for Alida to help, but she was compelled indoors and kept to herself. The dilemma of wanting to lash out at every person she met or to assist the public was a constant storm within her mind. Eventually, one side won, and she began to attack at the most insignificant of things. She caused a few injuries to the villagers when they wouldn’t stop knocking on her wooden door. As time passed, Alida eventually burned houses, destroyed villages, and made it storm for days on end. Maan began to notice and confronted her in a dream.
“Why are you destroying trees when you could be destroying my brother instead?” He asked. Something in Alida’s brain snapped. “Do not tell me what to do, you lazy oaf! With all my power, I could destroy you instead!”
Maan roared, “Fool! Did you fail to heed my warning? Fear tomorrow, for it will be the first in eternal suffering.”
When Alida woke to find she was all in one piece, she brushed off Maan’s threat and continued her day. While terrorizing locals, she began to feel nauseous.
“That’s odd,” She remarked, “I do not get sick. I am certainly the most powerful being in the world! In fact, most might consider me a god.” She smirked and bellowed for all to hear, “Fear me, humans! For I am the goddess Alida of the Earth.”
With this remark, thunder came rolling ahead in the sky and a violent flash of bright lightning struck the crown of her head. The voltage ran down to her feet and into the ground.
“Who could have done such a thing?” She shrieked, her angry outburst echoing throughout the village.
When there was no reply, Alida picked up her foot to walk and continue to pester the villagers, but her foot did not budge. She glanced down and noticed roots wrapping around her feet. She screeched and tried using bursts of magic to tear through the growing roots, but it persisted in wrapping around her. Bark and wood piled up against her skin and climbed up to her neck. A crowd began to gather around Alida to see what all the commotion was about.
“Help me foolish mortals!” Alida wailed, “Help me or be tortured and destroyed!”
The villagers murmured amongst themselves, but no one moved. Her cries of protest were soon muffled when the bark was fastened over her mouth. When Alida was covered completely, she began to grow branches and leaves. A voiced carried by the wind whispered through the villagers’ ears, “And here you will stay in eternal consciousness, incapable of breathing but forever unable to die. Here you will reside until the end of time.”
The growing of the roots stopped and in place of Alida was a full grown English Oak tree. A still silence fell over the village.
To this day, Alida’s tree still stands in the heart of the town. Legend states if you press an ear to the trunk of the tree, you can hear her wail, still screaming for somebody to help her.
Category: Creative Story
The War Cry
Ethan McFerren
Mr. Koch
English 9H
May 18, 2015
The War Cry
Chinadyawaho, or Waho as his friends called him, was deeply saddened because of the cruel desires of the foreigners. When the foreigners had arrived in their beat-up, desperate looking wooden ships, their only thoughts were of pity, kindness, and friendliness. Waho’s Cheyenne ancestors had aided them, listening to their odd accented questions about building proper shelters and where to camp to avoid predators. They learned how to plant and preserve their precious crops of maize, carrots, and cabbage in the fertile young land. The foreigners had learned and grown; only too much. They knew the layout of the land, and where the camps were. They had developed selfish desires and plotted on their own friends, seeking out how to eliminate them. Before they had known it, they were pushed out of their true and rightful land, and outmatched in weaponry and numbers. This resulted in the natives being crowded into highly guarded and supervised complexes, these small, uncomfortable, and musty places of life, where innocent and guiltless dark skinned men, women and children were kept. They were treated like inmates in a jail, but why? They were Native Americans, who had helped their so-called friends. The only true Americans as Waho thought, the free and proud and… imprisoned.
They were like doves in a bronze cage and dolphins in an unforgiving net, trapped helplessly. The reservations were horrible. They were constantly being watched with no privacy whatsoever. The guards had specific and strict patrol duties and night shifts. This was their reward for helping their friends.
Soon, this would all change. Navajo Nation, the biggest Native American reservation that covered the corners of Arizona, Utah, and New Mexico, was powerful. They consisted of close to 200,000 vengeful Native Americans. They had the numbers, the will, the want, and the need, to escape from their chains of shame. They needed much more space, a place where the natives could live like they wanted to, dress like they wanted to, have their own laws, and their own government. They needed a place where proud green forest rose high, a place of crisp, fresh wood for tools, filled with singing birds and leaping deer, fat turkeys, and silver wolves. A place that would conceal their elaborate and decorative teepees, with cool aqua pools, the overwhelming and rich aroma of venison cooking, the chopping of woodpeckers. They needed a home.
This was all a dream, until now.
The day of escape was near to come. Waho had talked to hundreds of strong and courageous men who hailed from tribes like the Navajo, Cheyenne, Sioux, and many others. They wanted to try to release themselves from their unrightfully determined predicament. Waho had to admit that they were weakened, but not dead. The nails of their captivity were tightened once, but now coming loose. The bars were holding, but not for much longer. The keys were dangling, but they weren’t out of reach.
He was stirring and mixing the unrest into something that would hopefully change the future of all Native Americans. He had heard tales from his equally optimistic son Jaulawena about the government plummeting, the economy struggling, the leaders rule shaky. If this wasn’t a better time to ambush, then when was?
It was time for the retake, revival, and reawakening of Native Americans. It was time to regain what was rightfully theirs. It was time for the Native Americans to free the helpless natives from their reservations. Waho’s grandfather once said: “The difference between a wise man and a fool is one priceless asset: their wits.” Waho was growing old, but his dreams were not yet fulfilled. They were very close.
Works Cited
http://www.infoplease.com/toptens/indianreservations.html
The First Step
Hey Guys!
Here is a story that I made and sorry it is really long. This is a prequel of my poem, The Final Stand. I highly recommend that you read it first before reading this story, as it may help you understand this story a bit more. You can read it right here:
http://irockenglish.blogspot.com/2014/10/the-final-stand.html
Either way, thanks for reading this and hope you guys enjoy!
-Harish Karumuri
_______________________________________________________
Date: March 10, 3026
Location: Gamma Ray Cloud
R.A.: 05h 34m 33s
Dec.: +22:00:55
Houston Time: 3:48
In front of the Massive Terrier X-1 Photon Cruiser -a prime spacecraft of the fleet at my home planet of Xenonia – was a plethora of Gamma Radiation, an energy at the top of our radioactive wave chart. It powers our cities for years, if not decades. However, this particular source could run our planet for at least a century. This ball of gas and radioactivity is what our planet runs on, and without it our city would be devoid of the technological miracles that have been bestowed to us by the scientists of our planet. We have cures to many diseases, clean energy, and sustainable crops due to the energy harnessed within this destructive force. With my family being grown in the Pre-Bestowed time of Xenonia, a time when plague and famine had came across the planet, I felt a need to help our terrestrial sphere continue its prosperity.
“Captain, how’s the energy?” I hear, from my best friend and partner down at the base.
“Navtek, everything seems to be going well. Preparing to take in energy. And how many times have I told you to call me Clayton?” I hear a chuckle from his side as I begin to take out my Energy Absorbtors to take in the abundance of energy from the Gamma Radiation. Energy begins to first fuel up my spacecraft and then begins to store the excess. From my dock inside the shuttle I see the gauge of the Absorbtors slowly grow. But at the last second, the gauges start to show an excess amount of radiation and error messages along with red flashing lights everywhere. If you haven’t seen any good action movies, this means something bad is going to happen.
In this case, the gamma radiation was so much stronger than what I originally anticipated. The energy was seeping out of the Absorbtors and harming the ship itself.
“Sergeant! What is going on?” I hear through a crackly intermission.
“Navtek, it seems as if the energy source came into the infrastructure of the ship. Run a diagnostic now!”
Within seconds came a response. “The assumption you had was indeed correct. However, the radiation is much too extreme for a body to handle. It is required that the ship breaks apart for the escape of the energy as well. ”
“Then what the heck am I supposed to do?”
“First, wear the radiation armor. Then steer the ship to the coordinates you are about to receive.”
The pair of numbers are sent to me and the coordinates take me to some unknown planet. “What coordinates are these!” I scream in panic as I quickly put on the radiation exosuit. In my 5 years as an energy collector, this is my moment of most panic.
“Sergeant, getting back to Xenonia is literally death. This was the closest planet we could give you.”
With no other option, I hop on to driver’s seat and rush to the planet as fast as I can. “Houston, tell me the details of this planet!”
“Planet name: Un-own. Popula-on: Un-own. Biome: Un-now-.”
“IT’S BREAKING UP,” I scream at the top of my lungs with chaos going on around me. Knowing that my communication was about to be cut off, I start to take precautionary actions.
“Sur-ival Chanc-: 1.2%” my computer practically shouts at me.
The two words to describe my feelings were, “Oh crap.”
“Out of all the things I hear, that’s the one thing that comes out of you, you stupid computer!? The one thing that totally can motivate me to survive!?” I practically scream.
Everything afterward is just an indecipherable mess of static. I guess cursing at the computer made my situation even worse. I throw my hands in the air in frustration and assess the predicament I was in.
I have no other option. I have to go to this planet and survive. As I wait in anticipation, my ship suddenly goes into overdrive.
Date: March 10th, 3026
Location: Planet Unknown
R.A. 06h 34m 33sec
Dec. +23:01:56
Houston Time: 4:50?
As I painfully open my eyes, I see a desolate land with withered trees outside the cockpit. Toward the back of this cockpit is a blown up and fragmented stern. The ringing sensation in my ears recedes. As I make my way into my ship and look for any undamaged gadgets, a display on ship’s front shows the outside air quality as anything but breathable. If I go outside, I die. Luckily the cockpit itself stayed intact, retaining the oxygen inside.
I soon decide to scavenge the interior, looking for anything that I can use: mainly oxygen, food, water, and weapons. After a good while of searching, I find a small survival bunker [Thank the lords!], which gives me a week’s worth of nutrition packs with water, a small pistol with several cartridges, a blunt copper dagger, and the one thing I need the most: oxygen. There’s only one problem- I only have three days worth of it.
Three days.
I have to get out of here in three days if I ever want to see home.
See my family.
See Xenonia.
I put on my oxygen mask to head to the doors, leading to a world that I have no idea of- with no sense of what obstacles are going to come across my way, no idea of how I was going to get home, and no knowledge of surviving with any creatures that may be out there.
I take one more deep breath, and open the metal door. A screech of air releases and comes outward, causing red-orange dust to puff around and make my mask become unclear. Soon after I wipe it off, I experience a fearful awe that comes across me.
The sky was nearly dark with small sections of a yellow, glowing rock, dimly fading with a small source of light. Around and below me is a blood red crust that makes me feel miniscule, inferior, and disgraceful. Some sections seemed to be a poisonous and vicious gunk that threatened to melt the soul away from anyone who ventured into it. And across some edges were pools of molten magma, daring for something to come venture into the scalding sections. Some areas even had shriveled up plants and trees thriving for water and nutrition. In short, this place was as if Mars had crashed into the Hell.
As I walk in, I feel the swish of an arrow just above my ear.
So I fling my pistol out expecting to see the most horrifying creature alive. Well, I’m not sure if I should even call it a creature. The only thing that was visible was a charcoal black skeleton with one of the most powerful bows ever invented – a Manalyn Framed, Ferrouskyn stringed bow (Did I mention I got an A+ in Weapon Identification in college?). I had to be extremely lucky that he missed.
I shot him several times, and that only made him seem to rage even more. His body started to light up as a blinding flash came about. Then, I saw no longer a skeleton, but a flaring skeleton monster, with teeth sharper than a granite-sharpened damascus steel sword. His body grew to at least seven feet inside. When I look even closer, it seems as if it has a black smog releasing from him as his focus began to come on me.
Crap.
I began to once again shoot wildly, trying to hit every part of his evil, skeletal body. However, this came to no avail.
Then I took out the one weapon I had left. The copper dagger with a dull tip was what my life came down to. I had no other choice. I chucked the worthless piece of metal at him as hard as I could and when the knife struck him, a piercing screech shot out of him and his body slowly shriveled to ash leaving only one thing.
The copper dagger.
I slowly creep toward the body, hoping that it won’t somehow magically pop back to life in a more bloodthirsty form. But as I reach the death spot the glint of the dagger was the only thing found in the mound of dark ashes. I pick up this strange shard and begin to marvel at the power that seems to be inside.
That is, until when a hard thump of a club hits my head. The last thing I hear is a gruff man saying, “Dang it Billy! Boss told us to keep him alive!”
Date: March 11th?, 3026
Location: Planet Unknown
R.A. 06h 34m 33sec
Dec. +23:01:56
Houston Time: ?:??
“Hey Boss, I think the guy’s waking up.” I hear the same gruff voice.
I hear another unfamiliar voice, assuming it’s Billy’s saying, “I told you I didn’t kill him!”
I try to pretend to remain sleeping so I could eavesdrop into the conversation, but a third unfamiliar voice, “Wake up Clayton. We know you’ve already been awake for the past five minutes.”
What the. They know my name!
The same unfamiliar voice replied, “Yes. We know your name. That’s probably why I said it.”
I swear, these guys are freaking mind readers. I manage to open my eyes and sit up to find myself in a meager, metal-walled room with computers and flashing lights. Each screen had different things on it, like a security camera. The first camera had a picture of the atmosphere. The second was a picture of a fortress, seeming to be made out of a refined sort of the crust that I had crash landed on. A third screen trailed a buff man which seemed to embody evil. The man had a dark, ashen aura seeping out of his body. He was wearing obsidian armor with damascus iron boots, and a light, flexible black undercloth. His face showed a evil pair of eyes with no pupils showing. His blood-red colored hair was tied in an ornate fashion with jewels and gold, showing his vile face which was a stygian skin on top of the evilness that was already in him. The camera followed him until he reached a weak and undernourished boy. The boy moved his lips in fear, as if he had done something wrong. Then in a flash, the evil man took out a shadow iron sword and decapitated the poor little child.
I can’t say any more about what he did at that moment.
And on the fourth screen was a broken down Terrier X-1 Photon Cruiser.
“Wait a second, why is my Terrier X-1 Photon Cruiser on the screen!” I yell in frustration.
The third man who had spoken responded with, “Uuuuuuuuummmm. You should follow me.”
But then I realized I was talking without an oxygen mask. “Before you say anything else, where is my oxygen mask?”
“We went to refill it. There is oxygen constantly being filled in this base so you will be fine.”
Oh. So I guess these guys are friendly. What’s this guys name anyway?
“Yes, we are friendly. And the name is Ramhart. I am part of the Pure Blood clan. We are here in order to bring prosperity to this land.”
Once again, freaking mind readers! “What’s the name of this planet?”
“Welcome to planet Earth, or nicknamed by us as the Underworld.”
Yikes. I’ve only heard legends about this place by elders who escaped from the planet and fled to Xenonia. “And why do you want me?”
“You took down a monstrous force that kills three of our members every time it approaches. You took it down with no effort.”
“Well, I di-”
“Don’t say it was the copper dagger! There’s something inside of you that can help us. You may be…” Ramhart began to mumble off.
“What was that?”
“Oh nothing. Let me introduce you to the leaders.”
After what I think an hour has elapsed, I finally get an understanding of the “Pure Blood” clan. So this group has five different leaders, and each of them have mastered their minds and bodies and are now able to control one of the six elements. Ramhart has mastered spirit, giving him telekinetic powers, so he’s the only one who can mind read. The group also made him the general leader, so that’s who “Boss” was. A slender and fast girl, Bryze, controls the element of wind. Because of her, we have the oxygen in this area. A girl named Blaise pretty much bends fire, so she gives the heat when we need it. The Gruff guy, named Thomas, has electricity, so I think it’s self explanatory on how he helps the base. Finally, Billy can control water, so he gives the group hydration.
There was one more element which I questioned them about, but they all pretended like they didn’t hear it. It was frustrating, but I didn’t really want to get on the bad side of some people who could wreck my face in a few seconds.
There were also other members from crashed planes and refugees from the so called “Death Age” who helped the cause here as well. They didn’t manage to be able to “master” themselves, but they help out the place by developing new tools and such.
After being bored in the room I awoke to for a long time, I got up and and checked the place around. Despite what I originally thought, this place was gigantic and had intricate hallways and many different rooms. In the midst of roaming around, I heard Ramhart speaking from a small distance away. As I ventured closer to the sound, it seemed as if the leaders were having a discussion.
“Is Clayton the one?” Bryze says.
Wait, what? They’re talking about me? What do I have that can make this place great?
Then I hear a sound that I never thought that I would hear. Navtek.
“Clayton is your guy. He’s been one with nature since childhood. He loves animals and he has a huge garden back here. He will help Earth come back to how it was,” he said through a transmission.
I couldn’t hear anymore. I could not listen in. I immediately left the area. All that “unknown” crap he gave me about this planet. He knew the ins and outs of this place. He never wanted me to get back home. He wanted me to fight for some bloody cause. But then I heard my name once again.
“Clayton, I know you’re listening in on this. I’m sorry man. I had to do this. You know what? Xenonia is on its tipping point too. We may not have plague or hunger, but we have another problem. Greed. Wars are breaking out between us and many countries. There’s overpopulation. We need more room to grow. That’s why you are here.”
I just ran away as the ending click came. Thomas was coming out and trying to send a stun ball my way, but as he threw it, a trap door opened below my feet into a dim area. As I was falling, the door was going back into place and the only place I could go was down.
—
I seem to be waking up with paining eyes way too much within the past few, hours? Days? I don’t even know at this point. I get up off this dusty floor and I find myself in this old and decrepit room. On the far side of the room are podiums, each one with a small symbol on them. I come closer and see that the first one had a Purple circle with a four pointed star in the middle. The one after had strokes of white coming forward as if it showed a sense of wind. The one after was remarkably like a fire burst with colors of crimson and orange. The next had a lightning bolt on it with a golden yellow. The one after had waves of water.
The final one had a tree with branches that came forward at me and was calling my name. And what was really different about this one was that there was a sword handle sticking out of the top. It had an intricate carving of branches and leaves. There was a force belonging to this sword that was longing me to pull it out. I went forward to grab it and I clasp my hands around the handle.
As I tried to pull it up, the sword remained stiff and refused to come up no matter what I tried.
I pull with great strength for an extreme amount of time and begin to frustrate myself. After what I think is an hour, I give up and try to head back.
No need to though. Blaise and Bill manage to come in and help me out. They said nothing. They just get me out, take me to my room and left. Nothing more than that. I lay down on my bed, thinking about everything that happened and just fall asleep with the confusion in my head.
Date: March ??, 3026
Location: Planet Earth
R.A. 06h 34m 33sec
Dec. +23:01:56
Houston Time: ?:??
“BEEEEEEEEEEP BEEEEEEEEEP BEEEEEEEEP BEEEEEEEEEEP”
I jolt awake immediately. Red flashing lights with ear-splitting sounds scream at me. A worker tells me to go to the conference room, the same room where I heard Navtek. Everyone was squished into the area to see a giant video message from the ominous man I had seen on the security camera.
“Hello there Pure bloods,” he said with a mocking tone. “My name is Oklarth Tenebis. It has come to my attention that you are attempting to steal my kingdom. If anyone tries to steal it, I punish them. So, I have done exactly that. Take a look at these people.” Gasps came out from all around the room. Each of the clan leaders were there, tied to a pole surrounded with billions of things that could kill them. Things from flame throwers, to tear gas, to motion detecting turrets ready to fire at the slightest bit of movement. “I have heard that these people are leading this cause. If you want them back, you have one thing to do. Fight. Otherwise, say goodbye. You have 2 hours starting now. May you lose!” He followed that with the most menacing laugh heard by any being’s ears. A timer came afterwards.
I had no idea what do or or say. But then I saw a small, green pathway, similar to the one on GPS, urging me to follow it like the yellow brick road. With the shock I was in, I decide to follow it. It leads me down some stairs and directly to the sword.
The Sword.
I was about to curse and scream in frustration, but I heard a voice. A small voice.
Ramhart.
“Pull-the-sword.” I hear his croaking voice. “Pull-the-sword.”
It all begins to click in my head. Spirit. Wind. Fire. Lightning. Water. Life. A newfound will comes into me. Ramhart is right. I will pull this sword out of this podium. I will not be stopped. These are my friends at stake. This is the planet at stake.
This is Xenonia at stake.
I will be the warrior of life.
I take a good look into the sword and grasp the handle. As I pull my hand upward, there is a copper sword ready to destroy a skeleton army.
Missing Slippers
By: Sreya Palnati
I wake up to the sound of an awfully loud airplane. As I roll out of bed, I take a quick glance at the clock and realize that I am thirty minutes behind my schedule! I loudly groan as I make my way through the maze of bed sheets, comforters, and pillows. As soon as my feet touch the bare ground (at the precise location where I had placed my baby pink laced slippers the night before), a wave of coldness washes through me as if I were getting frostbite starting with my feet. “Slippers, where are my SLIPPERS?” I yell. I make sure to yell the “slippers” part louder so that my sister across the hall can hear. Little Jessica is seven and we pretty much hate each other. In fact, I can’t remember a time when we weren’t fighting. This is one of the pranks she likes to pull on me; she takes my slippers in the morning because she knows that I hate it when my feet get cold! Little kids! So immature! Jessica comes skipping down the hall like little red riding hood, skipping through the woods just in time to see her grandmother eaten by the wolf. This was the third time this week that she played this prank on me and I can’t believe that I forgot to check for my slippers again.
“Yes, my dear sister? What do you need?” she says in such a sweet, mocking tone, which kind of surprises me because I didn’t know someone so evil could talk that way.
“STOP TAKING MY SLIPPERS!!!” I scream at her.
“What slippers? You can’t blame me for everything Sophia.” she says with a mischievous smile and skips back out of the room. Again, so immature! I would’ve run after her, but at this point I really didn’t have the time. I walk into my bathroom and stop in my tracks. Tiny red handprints are scattered all over my bathroom floor and walls. As I trace the footprints to find the source, I open the curtains and gasp. I find my two year old baby brother sitting with his legs crossed and hands spread out wide. His hands are covered in red, just like the rest of his body. For a second, I thought it was blood and got really scared.
Then, he giggles and says, “Paint!” He recently learned that word and it seems like he’s using it everywhere he goes.
“Mom!” I shout.
A few seconds later, my mom appears saying, “What’s the problem?” She too, gasps when she sees the mess. Then, I tell her the story of how I found Tommy like this in the tub covered in red paint. She shakes her head and tells me to just take a bath in Jessica’s bathroom.
“What??? But her bathroom is super small and it’s way too bright and–”
“Honey, please it’s just one morning.” She seems tired and has black circles under her eyes.
“Fine!” I say and stomp my way over Jessica’s bathroom.
“What are you doing here? I told you I didn’t take your slippers. Just leave me alone!” she said.
“I’m not here about the slippers! Tommy made a mess in my bathroom and mom told me to use yours instead.”
“Ugh!” She says and scoots out of the way so I can open her bathroom door.
By the time I finish taking a bath in the cramped tub, I was late. I even missed the first few minutes of school. The whole day went by slowly with rigorous note-taking, tests, pop quizzes, and worksheets. During my fourth block, my teacher handed out the pop-quizzes we had taken last class. I guess my appalled face was apparent to my teacher because he said, “better luck next time Mrs. Markwelle!” I felt heat rush to my face as everyone in the class looked my way.
“I’m like the only one who got a bad grade on this quiz! I mean, I could tell it from everyone’s faces,” I told my friend.
“Don’t worry because I’m pretty sure that lots of people got worse grades than you,” she said.
“I’m not so sure,” I replied.
I get off the bus and walk down the path to my house. Then, I heard a rustling behind me and swiftly started walking backwards so that I could spot the source. I probably shouldn’t have done that because I didn’t see a rock and stumbled and fell on the ground. I scraped my knees where blood started gushing out. I walk home limping and knock on my doorbell. Jessica opens the door and I sigh in frustration. She looks at my bleeding knees and gasps.
“What happened?” She asks.
Then, the tears came out. I can’t help it. I’m devastated. This is the worst day ever! I actually answer her and tell her about my horrible day.
“Sophia,” She began, “It’s just a bad day. The only difference is that now, you have a chance to appreciate the good days even more! Oh yeah, I forgot something…” She quickly got up and jogged inside, leaving me sitting on the porch. A few seconds later, she came back with my much missed slippers in one hand.
“My slippers,” I exclaimed, “Gosh, I missed these so much, that I am actually happy to be holding slippers!” she chuckled and looked at her feet.
“Turn it over,” she said softly. I slowly turned it over and saw my name elegantly embroidered with a small note underneath it saying “to the best slipper in the world”.
“Wait…what? How did you do this?” I asked.
“Well, there was this girl in my school who offered to do it for me, which is why I took your slipper this morning.”
“Oh,” I said.
“Yeah, I did this because I wanted to make up for all the trouble I have caused you and I’m really sorry and—“
I stopped her in the middle of her sentence and gave her a huge hug. Her smile was ten miles wide. “I love you,” I said. This time, I really meant it.
Lost Dreams
Lost Dreams
Shivering and sweating, I woke up startled to find myself on the cold bare floor. All I could remember was my name, Serena Riley. I didn’t know what was going on. All I could see in my head were blurry pictures of random people. I felt like my heart was racing faster than lightning. As my cat-like green eyes searched across the room, a knock on the door startled me. I turned around to find myself staring at a boy with shaggy brown hair, tanned skin and piercing blue eyes.
“Serena, right?” he asked with a bright white smile. I nodded wondering how he knew my name, “I’m Charlie,” he said.
“Hi,” I replied meekly, “where am I?”
“You’re in the Caribbean,” he said.
“Oh,” I responded. I walked over to the tiny window, next to some pictures of what looked like Charlie and a girl, whom I thought I saw in my dreams. I shivered as I thought about it. “How did I get here?” I asked Charlie.
“You were unconscious in a stranded boat, right over there,” he pointed outside to the boat that was still floating in the clear blue water, “my sister, Amanda, took you to the clinic nearby.”
“What did he say?” I asked, maybe it would explain my strange dreams.
“He says that you must have hit your head on something that made you lose your memory,” he told me.
Before I could say another word, the lights turned off, books started falling from the shelves and the ground started shaking. Just then, Charlie and I looked at each other and we knew exactly what was happening. We screamed.
“Earthquake!” I turned around to see the girl in the photo, pale faced running towards us yelling.
Then I heard Charlie scream my name as the ground started to split apart. As I tried to reach for his hand I fell into an endless black pit. I plummeted towards my death, thoughts about what would happen to Charlie scared me. I felt a tear roll down my cheek. Charlie, I thought. Suddenly, everything stopped.
I woke up with my heart pounding so loud that the whole world could hear it. I took a deep breath. It was just a dream, I thought, just a dream. I sighed as I looked at the time, 7:30 am, the first day of high school. Ugh high school, I thought. I threw on a pair of jeans and a hoodie and ran downstairs to catch the bus before it left.
As I reached downstairs the aroma of my mom’s famous homemade chocolate chip muffins along with freshly squeezed orange juice reached my nose eagerly. I finished up my chocolate chip muffin, and looked at the time-8:00 it flashed. Oh no I’m going to miss the bus, I thought, so I gulped down my orange juice and raced to the bus stop in the nick of time. I got on the bus and sat down in the front.
Everything about today sucked, and all I could think about was my dream. When they first started I thought it was a normal nightmare, but then it kept on reoccurring day after day. All my life I’ve been homeschooled until now. I’ve actually never been anywhere other than my house, this neighborhood, and my nana’s. But then again I know it means something, this dream, it just has to.
“Earth to Serena,” a voice poked in my thoughts interrupting me.
“What,” I snapped as I turned around to see who I was talking to.
“Sorry I didn’t mean to bother you,” Rachel said quietly pushing up her glasses.
“Sorry Rachel, I didn’t see you there,” I said feeling bad. I just met Rachel a few weeks ago when she moved in; she’s okay quiet and sensitive, not my kind of friend though. I sighed and turned around staring out the bus window at the foggy sky, thinking about my dream.
And there it was the big old grayish brown building, a pile of bricks and cement, staring down at bus with the words “Melaonre High School” like a black curtain shutting out all my thoughts.
First day of high school. Yay. I think sarcastically.
I entered the halls of Melaonre High the home of Worms, and peeked at my schedule, I have pre-calculus first and my locker combo is, 35-19-6. I checked again to make sure and wrote down the combo on the side of my shoe.
I hurried to my locker to put my stuff away, when I ran into someone, dropping my binder and its contents. Embarrassed I picked up my belongings and looked up to say sorry, but then my mind went blank. It was like I couldn’t form words or speak in full sentences anymore. I just stared and stared until he looked at me and his face went as pale as mine. A part of me wanted to ask him his name and another part of me wanted to run away and hide in a dark corner. He had the same piercing blue eyes and shaggy brown hair; I swear he looked exactly like him.
Finally I started to speak, “Hi, I’m Serena Riley. What’s your name?”
“Charlie Gates,” he said hurriedly, his eyes darting back and forth as if he were looking for someone. A few moments passed by and he started to speak again, “Um I got to go talk to my sister, but um, it was nice meeting you Serena, so I’ll see you around,” he quickly said and took off.
“Ok,” I said still trying to recover from shock. This isn’t real, this isn’t possible. How do you dream of someone you never even met? None of this makes sense! I wonder worriedly. I looked back and found Charlie whispering to what looked like his sister, the girl in the photo, from the dream. And for a while it seemed as if they were staring at me trying to figure out if I were real or not. I tried to make out their emotions through their facial expressions but I got nothing. Yet, something in Charlie Gate’s eyes told me that he knew something about me that even I didn’t know about myself.
A Wall And A Stool
A Wall and A Stool
Another minute, another hour; I had been waiting outside of the theater after my rehearsal for 3 hours now, waiting for my dad to show up. I rolled my eyes and yanked my phone charger from the outlet. Another seven mile walk with my six AP textbooks and stage binders. I packed up my stuff and rose from the bench, with my hundred-ton backpack. I began my walk at a quick pace towards a small alley through Lanston Avenue, which I had previously taken as a shortcut. I gazed up the few stars visible in the sky and drew out a cold breath. The clouds thundered above as I tried to locate safe shelter for my textbooks and me. I swiftly stepped into a small, run down building as the rain began to fall.
“Hey!” I looked around to find a source to the loud voice. More mumbled cries echoed through the hall. As I stored my books safely in behind a wall, I caught sight of a small, dimly illuminated opening to crawl through. I slowly made my way towards a battered, but well-lit room. A tear rolled down my cheek and my heart ached.
Another shrill scream of an innocent girl reverberated through the room, and I grimaced. Small tied up children were being whipped, slapped, and tortured until the abusive adults reached satisfaction. I crawled backwards to the opening when I hit a wall. I tried to turn when something grabbed my legs and yanked me out.
“Well well, what do we have here?” A thunderous voice rumbled through the building, and I trembled in the large hands of this man with horrifying tattoos and scary piercings.
“Ha-ha! Boss will like this one, she’s fresh meat!” Another vicious voice spit, and at that, I scoffed and shoved out of his grip.
“Ahem,” dusting off myself dramatically, “I happen to be a person, and those children,” I said pointing towards the astringent room, “happen to be innocent and have done no wrong!”
Surprised by my sudden outburst, the men looked dumbfounded. My mother always said, ‘Hit a wall? Step on a stool and hit it right back’, I always thought that was ludicrous because in the end you’d anyways end up in pain; but today, I thought it came in handy. One of the men let out an acrimonious gruff and next thing I knew, it was pitch black.
I woke to, what seemed as hours later, a faint room with crying children around me, some crying in pain, others whimpering in fear. A loud thunderous voice pierced through the room, “All right men! We’re done for the day, these things will be shipped in the morning, oh and include the fresh meat as well.” I gasped at his order and pulled my legs to my stomach. They killed the lights and I squirmed out of the tight grasp of the rope to pull my phone out of my right boot. I quickly dialed ‘911’ when someone appeared in front of me.
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing? Well! Not on my watch!” he kicked the phone out of my hand and my heart dropped several levels. “You think the police will come and rescue you? Well, forget about it! That’s another 35 beats for you!” He hit me, and he hit hard. I could feel the dents and cracks in my bones with the hard swings of the bat. Before I blacked out, I smiled at the next four words announced from the phone, “911, what’s your emergency?”
About 5 years later
“…and that’s my story. These children now are very healthy and all in school! The men who committed this injustice are also being taught a lesson, something for everyone! So yea, I hit a wall, but always keep a stool handy, because you never know when you’re gonna need it to jump back up and give it a turn around.” I smiled and accepted the applause as I hobbled off the stage with my crutch.
“That was wonderful! It was so inspiring, I’m crying!” My mom jumped with enthusiasm as she handed me another medication to be taken. It had been about five years since the incident, and well, I was still recovering from the traumatic event with the miracle work of the doctors. The news of my story went viral, and parents of those children were so thankful they all pitched in for my operation, which was one and half weeks long. I stepped out, signing autographs and taking pictures, slowly making my way to the car. Once we got out of the large crowd of people, we headed to the Rosettes Foundation HQ; I was proud to have begun this organization after my surgery had taken place, the foundation provided for abused children and strived to put an end to trafficking schemes
“Alexis! We have just found a small group working on Lanston Avenue,” my mind flashed back five years; “…we are sendi-“
“No, I will go along; some people will never get it and will have to have it the hard way.” And with that, I turned towards the car.
So to my readers: I really hope you find your stool, in any situation.
The Story of a Slave
Ethan McFerren
Mr. Koch
English 9H
October 6, 2014
The Story of a Slave
“No, nooooo,” I scream in anger, sadness, shock, confusion! Though I shouldn’t be confused. I know what’s happening. The white people are leading me away from my family. My mother cries and my brother looks away, not wanting to show his emotion. My father died when I was young, so he isn’t here. I watch in despair as I am lead further and further away from my home, my life in Africa, and to someplace I do not know.
The white man shoves me in with a bunch of other black slaves. Mehimbo, a girl who I knew since I was born, is also on the ship. The white man yells an order, and we start to move. No warning. No goodbyes. My family is stripped away from me like that. Our wooden ship skirts smoothly into the Atlantic Ocean. I watch it churn like soup with teary eyes. Will I ever be able to see my family again? No. That’s for certain. I will be alone with just me and my master. Or masters. I probably go to a rich family, since I think I’ll sell for good money. I dismiss the idea from my head. Maybe I can run away.
The first day is awful. They give us bread and water for dinner. The beds in the ship are overcrowded and too small. I have nightmares of leaving my family forever. The rest of the week goes on the same way. Look at the water, occasionally talk to Mehimbo, although both of us prefer to be left alone, and of course bread and water. People vomit their meals out on deck. I pretend to vomit my food so I can get some fresh air, but they soon find out and I get whipped. People that don’t make it through the voyage are simply tossed at sea. One boy even fell overboard. I grow thinner and thinner, even though I was always skinny. Everybody is cold, or sick, or hungry, or thirsty. We are all miserable. The voyage takes us three weeks straight. I don’t know if I should be scared, or excited, or nervous. After all, I am halfway across the globe with nobody I know except for Mehimbo. One by one, we are lead out into the cool, misty morning. I breathe in fresh gulps of air like water. Then we are half led, half pushed to a wooden block in the middle of a town. The buildings look nothing alike to the small huts at home. The place is surrounded with white men and women. I feel like I don’t belong.
Someone starts the auction. One by one, slaves are carried away with their new owners. The sounds are filled with men shouting out. Ten! Fifteen! I bid twenty-five! Thirty! On and on. Around midafternoon, Mehimbo and I are selected by our masters, a kind-looking man with a beard, and a fierce, angry, and annoyed woman who has icy cold eyes filled with hatred. I’m frightened, but at the same time, I am very grateful that Mehimbo and I were both selected by the same owners, maybe because we were standing next to each other. We are slowly led down the wooden auction block. Our masters pay money in gold to the slave trader and lead us away. Forty gold pieces. That is it. That is what Mehimbo and I are worth. Forty gold pieces. Will I have kind owners? Not by the look of the lady. Will I be treated fairly? Doubtful. As I am led down a dirt path, I mourn. My new life is about to begin.
The Secret
The Secret
There’s only thirty more seconds left. Why does time have to go so fast? A movement in the corner of my eye catches my attention. It’s Tommy shooting a basket with a balled up piece of paper. “Hey, Kate! You see that? Only one try!”
I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of my reaction, so I just roll my eyes and continue my staring contest with the clock. Three… Two… One… The annoyingly loud bell screeches into everyone’s ears. Whooping and hollering is taking place in the already crowded hallways. I slowly pack up my school books, papers, and pencil, delaying the inevitable without being too obvious. I quickly glance around the room to find the teacher looking at me. Oh, no. I attempt getting out of the classroom before he tries to talk to me, but fail.
“How are you doing, Kate? You seemed a little sad today.” I want to say terrible, awful, depressing, but as usual, I say the socially acceptable thing.
“I’m fine, Mr. Moore! Just a little tired! Have good day!” My fake happiness is expertly plastered all over my face.
“Okay. You too,” he replies with delight in his voice. I sprint out the door, hugging my textbooks, with my head down. The crowd is moving like a school of fish towards the front entrance. I hate Fridays. People get way too happy about the weekend and the stupid Friday-night football games. The games are just another excuse to exaggerate the social class difference between the upper-class, jocks and cheerleaders, and the lower-class, me.
After what seems like one minute, I find myself getting off the bus. I start taking slug-like steps in the direction of my house. Even when walking the slowest speed humanly possible, I still reach my house in only eight minutes. Not long enough. I wish time could stand still, even if only for a little while. I silently insert the key into the door lock and turn it to the right. The front door noisily creaks open, making my heartbeat skyrocket. I walk through the doorway and head towards the stairs. As I’m creeping quietly through the house, I catch a glimpse of my mom who has passed out on the couch again. I routinely walk over and check her pulse. It’s still beating away, so I pick up the bottles of alcohol littering the room. I carefully place the bottles in a trash bag, to be thrown out later. Even her faint breath can be heard in the silence of the house. It’s kind of funny how such a damaged home can be unbelievably loud at one point and silent the next.
A Joyous Day
A Joyous Day
Chirp, chirp. Bright and early in the morning the birds started to sing. Their beautiful song filling the air like a fluffy cloud in the light blue sky. It was eight o’clock on a Saturday and Lisette was getting ready to attend her cousin Courtney’s sweet sixteen. She got up, washed her face and shrugged into her aqua green dress. The dress fit Lisette perfectly around her waist. It was a birthday gift from her aunt and she had been asked to wear it during the party. Even though the party didn’t start until seven o’clock at night, she couldn’t wait to try it on just once.
Lisette ran down the steps to the kitchen. Her parents and older brother had already eaten their breakfast at the table and were cleaning up.
“Good morning everyone.” Lisette announced happily.
“Good morning Lisette,” Her mom and dad replied in unison. Her brother Clark just nodded his head as a hello. As they got up, Lisette sat down. Clark exited the kitchen to his room, her mom was getting started on the dishes, and her dad was reading the newspaper. She had a huge grin on her face. She couldn’t wait to go to Courtney’s party. She’s never been to one as a matter of fact. Her friends all just turned fifteen and she was still waiting for her turn in July.
“So are you excited to go to Courtney’s party?” her mother asked.
“Definitely,” she replied. “You know the aqua green dress Aunt Becky got me for my birthday?”
Her mother nodded.
“Well, I really want to wear it for the first time at her party,” Lisette said. “You know, since it’s the first time I’ll be going to one.”
“Of course you can sweetie,” her mom said. “I’m just worried you’ll spill something on it and stain it.
“Don’t worry, I won’t.” Lisette promised. She helped her mom with the dishes, and then put them away. She ran up to her room and started reading and drawing, counting the hours till the party. She even fell asleep for two hours!
“Lisette!” her mom called out. “It’s time to go!”
“Coming!” Lisette replied while going down the steps with caution. She really didn’t want anything to happen to her new dress. She had others she liked, but this one had to be her favorite.
It was seven o’clock and the sun was setting. Its colors were fading away slowly, as if it was the last time you would ever see it. Lisette and her family walked outside greeted with a cool breeze hitting their faces. The lights from their house raided with moths, causing their shadows to dance in the dark.
An hour late they arrived. There was light shining through all the large windows in the house. Lisette knew the party had already started. She took a deep breath. They all walked toward the front door and were greeted by a middle aged woman with her hair in a bun.
“Hello Jane, Andrew, Clark, Lisette,” aunt Becky said looking at all of us. “Come in it’s cold outside. Come in.”
Lisette walked inside and started looking around at all the decorations hung up on the walls. “Whoa,” she said in awe. She stood near her parents and in an instant they disappeared, but she didn’t care. She knew her aunt’s house inside and out.
“Lisette!” Courtney yelled. Lisette turned around and looked at Courtney across the room with a smile a mile wide. She walked towards Courtney with a swing in her step. This is going to be fun, she thought.
A Day in the Dark
A Day in the Dark
“I-is there any way to make you stay home longer?” Mustering those words out undoubtedly sipped a great amount of strength from me. The emotions already began to deluge my entire body; the darkness surrounding me became somewhat bolder than before. I started to tremble violently, relying on my sturdy cane for balance. All the quivers slowly vanished when a soft hand grasped mine. Though I never even got to see what it looked like, I already knew who this belonged to.
“I’m afraid not,” my older sister, Jennifer, replied, as she squeezed my free hand as a means of comfort. “The university’s next break is next month, only three weeks from now. Then I’ll come home…but you’ll survive, won’t you, T-Rex?” I nodded, but the tears only redoubled, sliding down my cheeks in a feverish haste.
“But Jenny, how am I going to deal with high school without you? This college stuff is so unfair!” I protested, my words shrinking to pianissimo as I stated my greatest fear. “The students there are going to make fun of me.”
“Don’t think like that,” Jenny muttered, her hand sweeping in to wipe the tears from my face. Releasing my hand, a blanket of heat wrapped around me. Hugs were rarities in my life, and they only arrived at sentimental events just like this one. “You’ll be alright,” She whispered, her voice faltering. “Goodbye, T-Rex, don’t get into any trouble.” The worst part about getting a hug was its time limit, and furthermore, the level of its dedication. You didn’t know if it was long or short, meaningful or hollow. But because of Jenny’s rush to move in, the warmth of the hug ripped off of me too soon, and the pounding of sneakers began to drift away from my reach.
*Two Weeks Later*
How does it feel to be blind? In my opinion, it’s a real thrill, yet some people don’t fully understand the experience. It’s not hard, really. Go ahead; close your eyes for a moment. Every inch of light and color rapidly dissolves from existence, before you can pause to cherish it one last time. In its place is a dull, interminable black wall that soon becomes your only friend. You begin familiarize yourself with this newfound void, but it’s not long until you crave vision again, and you open your eyes. A few seconds pass until you forget the tiny centimeter of patience you donated to this cause, and you continue your day without another care.
Everyone takes eyesight for granted, but in my case, it’s a paradise I’ll never be able to visit.
“You ready for your first day, Rex?” Mom sweetly asked. It’s 7 AM, and we’re in the kitchen, a place I recognize by the elegant fragrance of Mom’s lavender air freshener. Mimicking the noise of an airplane, she sang, “Open up!”
“No,” I admitted dreadfully. Along with Jenny’s moving day, the first day of high school was not something to celebrate. “Aah,” An ice-cold spoonful of Yummy-O’s was immediately scooped into my mouth, the metal sending a brief jolt upon my tongue. This is so humiliating, the idea of being fed for the last fourteen years.
“As long as you have Caney, you’re good.” By the mischief in her tone, I could sense a smile was plastered on Mom’s face the moment she mentioned the name of my childhood “friend”. Normal kids like Jenny had imaginary friends, and I had my white cane, which I used to name “Caney”. Though children would eventually abandon the figments of their imaginations, my cane would be loyally at my side for the rest of my life.
“Mom,” I whined, and we chuckle until she serves me another mouthful of cereal. The milk and the wrinkly O’s synchronously washed out my taste buds with a final mark of satisfaction.
Clang! The empty bowl dropped in the sink, which would then be waiting for its next bath in the sink. Zzzip! My pack opens. Muffled sounds lead me to guess that she’s stuffing all of today’s supplies inside. It’s the same routine every year.
“Remember to tell all your teachers about your situation,” Mom reminded me for the tenth time in a row. “They’ll know about you, so they have a textbook completely in Braille for you.”
“Okay,” I replied, settling my cane on the frosty porcelain floor. Scratchy backpack straps rested on my shoulders, and Mom grabbed my unoccupied hand. Her hands are usually soggy from yesterday’s dishwashing, and the texture of it is disconcerting. Creeeak. The door opens, outside air streaming through my stale lungs. The bottom of my cane is lifted into the car, and I plunged into the cozy backseat. A click, a grumble, and we’re gone.
The road beneath us had many obstacles. Bump, bump, bump. However, Mom’s favorite radio station, Classical Corner, drones down the background noise. The graceful glissando of the harp binds me into a dream-like spell, and the lightweight taps of the piano never fails to give me a joyous feeling. But it’s the bass that transfixes me the most, with steadied pizzicatos and a hypnotic rhythm that makes me want to sway from left to right. The smooth, composed characteristics of the bass had always captured my attention.
A sudden lurch interrupted my thoughts when Mom parked the car. Reminiscence of what today was supposed to be returned, and it made me feel sick. Mom helped me out of the car, and my cane hoofed a seemingly bumpy surface. Mom’s hand slid into mine, and she guides me in. Our entrance is marked by the sharp smell of fresh paint, and my cane meets ceramic. Click, clack, click, goes my cane down the hallway. Shwoom. A carpeted floor satisfies my sneakers and cane. “Good morning,” A deep voice rumbled. Before I knew it, I was dragged westward, where Mom instructs me to sit down.
“Good morning, Principal Anderson. My name is Nancy Lawson, and I have a son named Rex with a current disability: blindness.” Mom’s voice said almost confidently. It’s as if she doesn’t know I’m next to her.
I’m sensitive to the word “disability”, especially if it’s used towards me. Although it’s true, the term cripples me; its negative connotation makes me feel like I don’t belong in any acceptable category. I was born without any idea of what the world looked like; I had no template. But other than that, it didn’t mean that I should be treated any differently. I keep my thoughts to myself and let Principal Anderson continue.
“Oh yes, Rex Lawson,” Principal Anderson noted, his voice directing towards me. “Pleasure to meet you, Rex,” I nodded, wishing that I wasn’t here. Suddenly, the jazzy snap of “high heels”, according to Mom’s Braille shoe dictionary, took authority of our conversation, heading towards us from the right.
“Rex, this is Miss Tiffany George.” Principal Anderson introduced. “She will lead you to all of your classes this year.”
“Morning, Rex,” Tiffany huffed a sigh, and I didn’t even need vision to tell that she was very unenthusiastic. “How are you,” Tiffany sounded like she’s reading directly from a script, without any effort whatsoever.
“Fine,” I puffed back with nearly the same lazy tone as Tiffany’s.
“Well, Tiffany,” Mom chirped, failing to notice the lack of excitement. “Here’s Rex’s schedule!” The whiz of paper made its way towards Tiffany. “Principal Anderson, it was nice meeting you, but I need to be on my way. If there are any problems with Rex, contact me on my cell.” Shwoom.
“Ten minutes left until the students arrive.” Principal Anderson stated. “Tiffany, you can take Rex to his locker to drop off that heavy backpack of his.”
“’Kay,” Her bored voice already began to annoy me. I’m not as weary as she is, just anxious. “Get up,” Tiffany barked, and the command made me stab my cane into the ground.
“Have a great day!” Principal Anderson blissfully called as I struggle to follow Tiffany. He and Mom must be blinder than me not to discern Tiffany’s moody behavior.
I gradually formed a strong distaste for Tiffany, especially when she carelessly left me confused with the staircase. “It’s a staircase, go up it.” Tiffany’s know-it-all side was frustrating as I experiment the floor’s elevated level. Gosh, what’s up with her? I tentatively ascended, making every step with caution. I haven’t been up the stairs without any assistance before. My middle-school guide, Daphne, would link her arm with mine, singing the word “Up” constantly with an unrealistically cheerful tone. Although it was embarrassing to ring arms with Daphne during school, I now preferred it over this.
As we trailed across another unfamiliar area in the school, I get exhausted of being so puzzled, and luckily, a plan struck me. “Miss Tiffany?” I spoke up. The bossy ticking of her heels pauses, shrieking as they pivot towards me. Under the newly-found spotlight, I inaudibly gulp before giving a half-hearted request.
“I’ve never said this to my mom, but I want to get an idea of what the school is like so I can navigate on my own. What if you took me to a central spot in the school, and I tried to memorize the routes of each of my classes from there? All I have to know is whether to go up, down, right, or left. I’ve been doing this since we’ve left the office, but your pace is a little too fast. I have good memory, though, so I was thinking you can remind me of my paths well enough for me to memorize it for the rest of the school year.”
Nothing comes from Tiffany’s mouth for a while, and I began to wonder if my unrevised scheme was being processed through, or on the verge of being completely scrapped. “No, do as you’re told,” Tiffany decided. An unpleasant screech broke my eardrums, followed by a steady clacking ahead. My cane talked to the beat of the shoes until after a short moment, Tiffany halted. The swivel of a school lock healed my ears.
Jenny showed me her school lock before. The process of opening it was one of my favorite sounds. Swivel, pause, swivel, pause, swivel, click! Naturally, I wouldn’t be able to open the lock, but Jenny gave me an outlook of her experience by letting me feel it. Rugged edges covered the shape where you place your fingers, and I enjoyed playing with the jagged lines. They reminded me of Mom’s bumpy car trips, except they possessed a quality that comforted your fingers, definitely not for feet and a cane.
A gust of air slapped my face, and a light drumming of something like Tiffany’s high heels was on my left, where the lockers were. “Your locker is 5481.” Tiffany indicated. “So, um…yeah,” An unnecessarily loud SLAM echoed in the hallway before I could even reach out to touch it, then Tiffany clopped away.
“I’m going to the restroom,” She told me, unexpectedly grabbing my wrist. Sharp daggers punctured my skin, and my hand forcibly slapped a solid box at room-temperature. “Keep your hand on the water fountain until I say so.” Creak, shwoom. She reminds me of one of Jenny’s old friends that Jenny used to complain about: someone who would socialize with her friends rather than taking full responsibility of priorities ahead. I tried my best to understand Jenny’s stress at the time, but it never came to my complete understanding until now.
It wasn’t very long after Tiffany’s leave when the commotion thundered from an immeasurable distance. With each passing second, the chaos crept closer, elevating with a blend of pain and anxiety. They’re coming, and I’m invisibly chained to a water fountain.
Second grade was the horrifying year that provoked my long-lasting fear. At the time, we’re all seven to eight years old, the age that initiates thoughts and opinions of its own. Many kids were bold to state theirs directly into my face, and if not, somewhere close by. First came the typical questions, which I had gotten accustomed to now:
“Why does he have a cane?”
“How old does he think he is?”
“Miss Simpson, why does he have sunglasses when we’re inside?”
Others’ reactions to my blindness were more harsh than curious, especially if they knew about my blindness already.
“How is he going to be in the spring musical looking like that?” “Exactly, he won’t fit in with any of the parts.”
“Want to see what’s on the lunch menu today? Oops! I said the word ‘see’! MY BAD!”
“Hey, Rex! How many fingers am I holding up, huh? Oh, that’s right, you can’t see.”
By the end of elementary school, the entire class was used to having a blind person, making third grade, fourth grade, and fifth grade a breeze. The petty insults slowed down, and I was starting to feel accepted, wishing I had some kind of visual to openly express my happiness. When I told Jenny about it, she told me about the gift of smiling. I’ve been unknowingly using it for a while, it seems, and now that I knew its true meaning, I began smiling to others as a means of pure gratitude. Everything was at peace for now.
Dad’s career transferred to a different state the day after fifth grade ended. Jenny and I were placed in a middle school that served grades 6-9, but because students had more independence here, their harmful actions were often aimed towards me. Peers would lay their items on the floor, deliberately becoming angry with me whenever I tripped over them. “You just crushed my brand-new smartphone…can’t you watch where you’re going?” Besides the classic prank, the taunts prepared were more treacherous.
“Rex Lawson, can you hear me? It’s your principal speaking, and I want you in my office right now…if you can find it.” A pre-mature voice mocked, followed by high-pitched snickers.
“Oh, look, it’s Grandpa Rex strolling down the hallways. Dude, let’s say hi to him and see if he can hear us,” joked the guys with gravelly throats.
Jenny eventually discovered the bullies from the supposed bruises on my legs. Ever since the incident, she’s fought them off.
All these years, she’s defended me from the cruelties of this world, but even under her brave exterior, she knew how frustrating it was to endure something as bad as this. “It’s tough to be living your life, but you’re a strong T-Rex for not breaking after all this time.” Jenny admitted one day after school. “If I had to be in someone else’s shoes, it would be yours… only if it would mean that you had a chance to live an abuse-free life for at least 24 hours.”
After my graduation from middle school, our family moved again to be closer to Jenny’s university. Though I was happy to be near Jenny while she’s gone, I was going to be in yet another unfamiliar school. I was vulnerable to everyone and everything, and there was no way to avoid it. And now that this new collection of students was beginning to stampede towards my direction, I wanted to hide.
For the first few moments of the parade, I was undetected. Nevertheless, I grasped tighter onto the box, waiting for the attention to latch onto my skin. In my chest, tension inflated like a balloon until it finally popped, leaving behind its empty, broken pieces behind. It crippled me in the end, unable to battle the apprehension any longer.
“Hey, Monica,” A girl’s airy voice squeaked. “Did you ever notice that there’s a guy with a cane over there? Is he staring at us through those sunglasses?”
“I don’t think so.” Monica replied slowly, a more mature tone wrapping around her words. “I think he’s blind, like my cousin. Thomas has always told me that_”
“Monica! Why are you looking at that guy like that? I’m going to tell Wilbur!”
“What the heck, Ryan? I don’t even know him.”
“Yeah, right.” Four booms headed towards me, the noise growing with each step. Ryan’s voice, lowered to a firm whisper, was uncomfortably near my face, my cheek absorbing the heat of the moment. He growled, “New kid, you better leave Monica alone. Don’t think that you can just come in here and try to get her with those sunglasses. Take them off!” Boldly demanding those last words, fat and grubby fingers gripped the stiff poles above my ears.
“No! Ryan!” Monica yelled, and a loud clatter interrupted her ongoing protests. A deafeningly long silence followed the reckless action. Oddly enough, my eyes suddenly felt this burning sensation, and the pain was unbearable. Shwoom.
“What in the world is going on here?” Tiffany broke the eerie stillness. Unlike her behavior from before, her strong, soldier-like pitch startled me. Taking time to analyze the situation, Tiffany’s high heels took the floor before she came to a halt. “Ryan Schmidt,” She concluded. “Anderson’s told me about your criminal record. Did you know that this boy is blind?” The sharp daggers returned, except that I’m grateful. The temples of my sunglasses were placed back on my ears, calming the irritation.
“N-no, ma’m.” Ryan stuttered.
“Really? You didn’t see the cane?” Tiffany scoffed, which was a faint reminder of her stuffy self. “The sunglasses that you just threw protect his fragile eyes, and his eyes could have been easily damaged. You really need to learn some manners.” High heels wailing, Tiffany must have steered a different direction. “You look responsible. Lead him to the principal’s office.”
“Where is that?” Monica asked.
“Here’s a map,” The sound of crinkled paper tickles my eardrums.
“Thank you. Come on, Ryan.” Monica called. Ryan’s frustration was expressed thoroughly through his departure, a dragged, saggy walk. Shweep, shweep, shweep. Once the dull sound died down, applause detonated from the crowd.
“Yeah, don’t mention it.” Waving away her newfound recognition, Tiffany’s attention turned to me. “Look, I’m sorry for giving you such a bad attitude. The last few weeks were pretty rough for me, and just like you, I’m trying to get used to the changes that are attacking me at this moment. You’re a good kid; you didn’t deserve the harsher side of me. But Ryan definitely needs some form of discipline, heh.” Surprisingly enough, the knives didn’t hurt when her hand overlapped mine. “Can we start over?”
“Sure,” I said, shrugging. Then the bell, which was an elevator’s chime, rang.
“Oh! Let’s get going. First stop: History.” Tiffany announced, tugging my arm lightly before we glided to class.
*3 Weeks Later*
Ring! Ring! “I’ll get it,” Dad announced, the whish of the telephone lifting into the air. “It’s Jenny!” He spoke excitedly. “Rex, come talk to her!”
“Okay, okay,” I find my way into the living room, which is dusted with the scent of cinnamon. Dad helps me onto a velvet couch and allows me a break from my cane. “Hello?”
“Hey, T-Rex! Guess what, I’m coming home tomorrow! Can’t wait to see you again…how’s high school so far?”
“Fantastic.”
“Whoa, seriously? Where’s the sarcasm?”
I laugh. “It really is great; the kids, the classes, the school, they’re all amazing.”
“What happened?” Jenny asked, naturally curious.
“I have this guide named Tiffany, who used to be rough on me until a bully came,” I began. “Then she started defending me, and sent the troublemaker to the principal’s office. Now she entertains me during lunch about her rebellious childhood, and helps me out on topics I’m struggling on.”
“That’s nice to hear.” Jenny said. “About the other students?”
“Well, all the bullies are gone! I thought it was neat to hear that in one week, the bully’s story had circulated around the entire school. It was like all of my elementary school years combined, all that convincing to get others used to me, had squeezed into the first two weeks of school. Isn’t that great?”
“Wow, it is!” Jenny’s clapping could be heard through the speakerphone. “I want to meet this Tiffany someday and thank her for her efforts. She seems amazing.”
“She is. I’ll tell you more tomorrow.”
“Sounds like a plan! Say, do you know where Mom is? I want to talk to her.” Jenny asked. Sweep. The heat radiating off the phone disintegrates, and Dad’s boots sigh their way to the kitchen.
Telling Jenny about my progress so far released the last of the weights off my shoulders. Everything had settled down, and for the first time, life without vision was truly perfect.