Category: English9

Justice Letter

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Justice Store
22000 Dulles Retail Plaza
Sterling, VA 20166

Dear Justice:

A few years ago, I finally found a jumpsuit at your store that matched my style. This jumpsuit is short and has laces at the top. The style was very attractive. I was so happy that I couldn’t wait to wear it, but I saved it for a day at the beach. A day before I went to the beach, I decided to try on the jumpsuit before I packed it into my suitcase. Then, just as I gently pulled the lacing over my shoulders, one of the shoulder laces snapped!

I was devastated because I was really looking forward to wearing that jumpsuit on the beach. I hadn’t even pulled hard on the laces; I was very careful. When I looked at the wrecked lace, I realized that the problem arose due to the fault of your stitching. The laces were stitched on too loose and carelessly; by the time I put on my dress, they completely came apart! I am very disappointed in the quality of your stitching! The dress that I paid full price for didn’t even last a few seconds. It separated and now I cannot even wear it anymore before finding a way to stitch it back myself.

I do have to commend your store for its fabulous model, though. The fashionable model and the colors of the jumpsuit went together and looked adorable. I just wish I had a chance to wear these adorable clothes and show them to others before they rip apart because of the stitching issues. The quality of the clothing I received from your store is terrible; it doesn’t have any relation to the price of the jumpsuit.

I wanted to let you know that you should improve the quality of your clothing so that they can last long. I would propose taking the time to focus more of your budget on creating the clothing instead of designing it, because I feel that the designs of your clothing are already getting an abundant amount of attention. In fact, that is the best part of your clothing!

If you advertise your improved stitching quality, I am sure that many others will be interested in buying your clothes. I have a few friends who have also had similar issues about your clothing, and I believe that taking this suggestion into consideration would be really beneficial to both your store and your customers. My friends all agree that the quality of the stitching in your clothing is the only thing that keeps them from buying more clothing from your store, anymore. After all, Justice has the best designs, but just needs to have better quality to become even more successful. Thank you so much for taking the time to read this and taking my improvements into consideration!

Sincerely,

Sreya Palnati

Every New Beginning Comes From Some Other Beginning’s End.

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Personal Narrative                                                                   
                                                                                                        
Every New Beginning Comes From Some Other Beginning’s End.

I was born in the capital city of the Dominican Republic, Santo Domingo. It’s the biggest city in the country, with a population just over 2 million. The Dominican Republic is a tropical country, where the sun is always up and shining till the night (except in the rainy season). I used to be a typical Dominican girl with a busy schedule, full of social activities and very involved in my school activities. I used to be my teacher’s assistant; I helped grading exams, organizing classes, etc. I was also my class President, so I had a lot of responsibilities on my shoulders. I had to plan all the social activities and also the fund raisers. Being the Class President is not as fun as you might imagine, as I had to play many roles, needing to be democratic and participatory, but also authoritarian or bossy- but always fair.

I loved my life; I had the greatest feeling, when you know that you have all that you need: love, family and friends that become like family. I used to love going to school, every day would bring a new lesson or adventure. Sometimes it seemed hard, especially when we had to have our monthly meeting to schedule our activities as a classroom, but at the end of the day, it turned into happiness. When I got back home my grandmother was always there waiting for me to set the table. We used to have lunch together while we watched a show called “Caso Cerrado” (Case Closed) which was a part of the day we couldn’t miss. Every day always ended up with homework. Finally, though, the most expected day of the week: Friday would arrive, which were always fun and exciting. My friends and I used to do a variety of things, going to an ice cream parlor or we could end up partying till “sunrise” which was really till midnight.

I am pretty sure that I will never forget these moments that have become  memories that will last forever. I especially miss my girlfriends and hope that even though they are far we can still keep the connection between us.  

My life new life begins with a new culture, new challenges, and new goals. This is what life is based on, changes.  We all have experienced an unwanted change, in my case it was for my own benefit. It all started when I moved to Virginia; at first, I wasn’t excited, I barely talked about it, as long days were passing by, the sadder I would be. In the meantime, I was enjoying my last months with all my friends, partying, hanging out and eating brunches. The day “finally” arrived; packing, letters, tears and sadness surrounded my room.  When I first arrived, it felt like I was on summer vacation, just like another usual summer, going out and having fun. As the days passed by and the “Back to School” date got closer, I didn’t realize it was really going to happen until I bought my school supplies.

In my opinion, everything happens for a reason. Sure, everybody says that, but do they believe it? I do. Everything has a purpose, which I still need to find – it will be a journey, not always amusing one, but uplifting nonetheless. Finally, as my grandmother says, “At the end of the journey everything will take its place.” Caso Cerrado.
                                                                                          

A Rude Awakening

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A Rude Awakening


As a child, everyone grows up with this fantasized view of the world where everyone and everything is nice and perfect. Parents love their children, bad people go to jail, and anyone who misbehaves gets in trouble. Many children wake up from this sugar-coated dream at a young age, including me. When I found out that my family wasn’t as perfect as I thought, it altered my view of the world completely.

It was a pretty average day for a five year old, with my dad driving me from my mom’s house back to his house. We were driving down that winding road that has all of those lush green trees that can take your breath away with one look. With the windows cracked open, you could smell autumn making its way throught the air, with the warm colors close behind. I was struggling to regain control of my hair as gusts of wind blew it into a mess; silence filled the car. Our conversation about school that day had just ended when, in that silence, I recalled a televison show episode I had watched earlier, That’s So Raven. In the episode I wathced, Raven goes through a situation where she thinks her parents might get a divorce. I had no idea what the word divorce could possibly mean at the time, so I continued to watch the show. By curiously watching the show, I eventually guessed that divorce was when the mom and dad seperated. Something abou that term was bothering me since I left my mom’s house, but I just couldn’t put my finger on it. I then started to connect the dots and notice the similarities to my life. A million thoughts raced through my head all at once. Could my parents be divorced? Am I adopted? If they’re divorced, why do I have four parents? Are my parents kidnappers? I couldn’t imagine my mom and dad ever being happy together. I then realized that it must be true because I knew I looked too much like them to have been kidnapped or adopted. I then asked the dreaded question, “Are you and Mommy divorced?”

My dad showed no surprise towards the question and calmly answered, “Yes”, explaining the details about how and why they had seperated. He also confirmed that I was indeed not adopted or kidnapped at any point in life. Initially, I wasn’t as shocked as expected because everything fit like a puzzle. It explained why I traveled between houses, why I had more than two parents, and why my parents didn’t get along. This moment gave me the rude awakening that no one and no family is as perfect as it’s thought to be. I also learned that just because a family isn’t picture perfect, doesn’t mean they aren’t a family.

The Secret

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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

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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. 

Backpack

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Backpack
Backpack,
you hurt my shoulders,
and my back,
also my arms,
 what would I do without you.
Backpack,
you carry all my books,
binders, and lunchboxes,
sometimes even my shoes,
what would I do without you.
Backpack,
you make me late to school,
trying to cram things into you,
you tear and rip,
 what would I do without you.
Backpack,
you can make my life miserable,
but also gleeful,
what would I do,
without you.
Backpack,
you hurt my shoulders,
and my back,
also my arms,
 what would I do without you.
Keshav Bhakta 
Block-4

Hope in the Dark

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Hope in the Dark
This nightmare that we live in,
What a terror it is.
Not knowing what’s fake and what’s real,
But knowing we will survive this.
Darkness is everywhere,
Surrounding us like a cloud covered sky.
Coming out of nowhere, 
With a blink of an eye.
The darkness is pulling us in,
With memories that are scattered.
Never good enough,
And all our hearts are torn and tattered.
But say what you will,
This life is supreme. 
Keep walking towards your goal,
And someday you’ll wake up from this dream.

Tick Tock

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Tick Tock



Tick tock, went the clock,
Twelve people alive,
One the source of it all,
But only eleven shall die.

Tick tock, went the clock,
One dying each hour,
When the clock strikes one,
The man with the black hair tied back shall die,
A man of providing.

Tick tock, went the clock,
One dying each hour,
When the clock strikes two,
The man with the white scarf shall die,
A man most feared.

Tick tock, went the clock,
One dying each hour,
When the clock strikes three,
The man with the rose shall die,
A man wanting to be loved.

Tick tock, went the clock,
One dying each hour,
When the clock strikes four,
The man with red eyes shall die,
A man who was once lost.

Tick tock, went the clock,
One dying each hour,
When the clock strikes five,
The man with the black cross shall die,
A man who was a commander.

Tick tock, went the clock,
One dying each hour,
When the clock strikes six,
The man with the wise mind shall die,
A man who was an elder.

Tick tock, went the clock,
One dying each hour,
When the clock strikes seven,
The man with the sorcery shall die,
A man who was the father of all.

Tick tock, went the clock,
One dying each hour,
When the clock strikes eight,
The man who wears glasses shall die,
A man who was a hero.

Tick tock, went the clock,
One dying each hour,
When the clock strikes nine,
The man with the polar bear shall die,
A man who wasn’t noticed.

Tick tock, went the clock,
One dying each hour,
When the clock strikes ten,
The man who was generous shall die,
A man who was poor.

Tick tock, went the clock,
One dying each hour,
When the clock strikes eleven,
The man who was always angry shall die,
A man who was a brother.

Tick tock, went the clock,
All eleven are dead,
But when the clock stroke twelve,
The twelfth with the curl was weeping,
And wished the eleven didn’t protect him,
A man who wanted to protect.