stewart by wuyunyi

VIEWS: 24 PAGES: 74

									Creative Writing Portfolio
       2006-2007
       Forest Park
       Meghan Stewart
         10th grade
        Mrs. Dowling
              Introduction
    Hello, thank you so very much for choosing to
look at my portfolio. In the next few pages you‟ll
see a combination of opinion, memory, and
extreme feeling. So without further adieu, please
enjoy reading my pieces. 


               Table of Contents
                    Table of Contents
• Portfolio 1               • Portfolio 2              • Portfolio 3
    – Off Of 42nd  Ave.
                               –   Three wishes           – The Rule of Meg-
    – Living Under a
      shadow                   –   Part of the crowd        Isle
    – My Fear                  –   My Hatred              – Sovereign Speech
    – The Perfect Body         –   Pharmacy love          – Waves
    – Paradise Is In Your                                 – One thing
      Mind                     –   My closet
    – The Final Blow           –   The Blessed One        – What does it take?
    – Predicted Darkness       –   Disappointment         – Do You Have the
    – The abandoning           –   Additional Work          Cheese?
    – Suicidal Lover                                      – Just Because
                               –   Reflections
    – Reflections                                         – Da Truth
                                                          – Reflections
                        Off Of              42 nd         Ave
            As the Le Jeune children migrate to get home from school, Le Jeune Gardens
becomes the greatest place in the world. At least to me, the inside kid on the block who only
comes out when her father decides she can. The streets quickly begin buzzing with kids
fueled with excitement of finally getting out of school. This is the best time of the day to me,
but that‟s what I think, and I don‟t care what other people think. Walking through, the
normal group of people are sitting and standing next to the tank. But wait I know one of
them; I‟ve seen him around when I had the chance to go outside. He gets up and come
towards me. Hey! It‟s Ron. He‟s my boyfriend I‟ve been going out with him for about a
month now. He greets me with the normal hug, fearing the thought of him kissing me and
my father rolling by in his truck.
            Walking down the street in our own pace wasting time trying to be together as
long as possible, a fight breaks out. Ron, being protective of me, puts me on the other side.
Seconds later gun shots ring out. It sounds as if someone emptied a clip, miraculously, no
one was shot.

                                              Next page
      Continuing to walk, I see a group of really little kids
messing with a crack head. Disoriented, she tries to fight
them off. The feel of his warm hand takes me away form the
scene and brings me back to him. As he slowly moves my
face to look at him and not the distractions, we just stand
there. In the midst of this we don‟t move, his hand is the only
connection between us, we stand there looking into each
others eyes. Finally he gives me a hug and goes off.
      Turning around, I see a bunch of my neighbors not even
attempting to hide their interest. I walk down my street, the
smell of weed telling me my brother was home. As I walk
into the house I‟m greeted by my dog. She is my beacon,
telling me I‟m safe, that I made it another day


                                                 Off of 42nd Ave. Cont‟D
     Living Under A Shadow
        Something that‟s been bothering me is the high
standards of expectations given by parents. It seems as if the
older you get the higher they become. From „its okay‟ to „I
want better grades,‟ even if you have a “B” and to add on to
this pet peeve of mine, is the expectation to be like someone
your not.
        In this case, a younger sibling pushed to be like an
older one who exceeded vibrantly. It‟s not like we mind, we
being myself and all other younger siblings that have with
family pressures. But being pressured makes it harder for us
to concentrate on the work at hand and the goals that we are
trying to achieve. Instead we‟re concentrating on not getting
anything wrong leading us only to get a few correct.
                                                       Next Page
     Being a younger sibling and have to live up to
the bar that your parents have set because they‟ve
seen your older sibling go through life without a
problem, is in fact hard. It‟s like they‟re trying to
get you to win a game you know nothing about.
It‟s stressful and it really irks my nerves!
     So, all in all, the only thing that really bothers
me are the really, REALLY high expectations
given by parents. This bothers me in short version
because they want you to live covered by a
shadow that wasn‟t yours to begin with.


                                             Living Under a shadow cont‟d
           My Fear
       Standing here scared stiff
              I am alone
    My heart beating out of control
     Pounding like cannon thumps
                 I cry
         Tears fall as I realize
My thoughts echo through the emptiness
  Looking up into my stormy world


                            Next page
     I see hope out of reach
            I jump I climb
        It’s still not enough
                   I quit
              I am alone
Why aren’t my gifts good enough?
      Why can’t I succeed?
              I am alone
Snarled and rattled by the thought
           For I am alone

                                     My Fear cont’d
 The Perfect Body
         Ever since a while back I wondered why people
wanted to be “fit” or have the perfect body. Romans
have famous sculpture and paintings of muscular men
and well curved women, and yet their kings were fat
and round. Is there an unknown want hidden in the art
of cultures?
         People try their hardest to have the perfect body,
going as far as injuring themselves to get it. So why do
people want the perfect body? Could it be because of
movie icons and video models or the pressure? I
believe that people should be happy with what they
have. If they‟re happy and want to work out just a little
bit its okay as long as they don‟t obsess.
                                                 Next Page
     The want, the need, the desire, to have the perfect body
(which is unreachable) have led to the development of many
diseases. Well I wouldn‟t say disease because they are more
like problems. Such as anorexia and bulimia, these are more
common in the teenage years due to the “effectiveness they
have on making you skinny!” Not only diseases but also
drugs have come up and due to the unfulfilled desire to have
the perfect body, they have become a multi-million dollar
industry. The main drugs being painkillers and steroids.
     So is the “Perfect body” a thought, is it a dream, is it
worth is, most of all is it healthy. What is the point?! Why do
so many people want it? I‟ll never know the answer. My god
mother told me that we are fearfully and wonderfully made.
That is how I live, that is how I think. Why can‟t the rest feel
the same way? Do you?



                                              The Perfect Body Cont‟d
Paradise Is In Your Mind
       Paradise- a place of extreme beauty, delight, or
happiness. A state of supreme happiness; bliss.

        I was sitting in the car one day with my mom
singing India Arie‟s new song, there‟s hope.” When I
heard her say, “paradise is in your mind.” That when I
began to think about what she really meant. How could
paradise be in my mind if when I sit and think, I begin
to cry? So I sat in every one of my classes and thought
about what it meant.
                                               Next Page
       Eventually, I realized I wasn‟t going to come up with the answer. So
while I was walking… okay, so while I was limping to get to class before the
ball rang for 7th period, I saw a boy who was permanently bound to crutches.
He asked me about my crutches and I saw I look in his eyes that told me he
knew what it was like to desperately want to be off of them.
       As I told him goodbye, I suddenly remembered him from past lunches.
Every time I saw him he had a smile on his face. It made me think, I hate my
crutches but this boy who is on them everyday seems to be enjoying life. This
boy was so happy that I began to see him in a new light.
       Knowing this, I began to sing the sing the song. I finally understood
what the thought, “Paradise is in you mind” meant. That boy on the crutches
is in his paradise because he‟s thankful that he can move on his own, but that
also he isn‟t more seriously handicap. Then I looked at a fully abled person
and realized that even if they‟re not handicap, they‟re in paradise. And its
because they‟re happy with who they are.




                                                     Paradise Is In Your Mind Cont‟d
                   The Final Blow
           BANG!! Almost instantly, Chris felt a cool burning pain overwhelm his
body. Why hadn‟t he gone home? Where was he? What happened?
           “Chris! Quick someone call…” he heard someone but he couldn‟t tell
who it was.
           “Ma?” he whispered, tasting the blood, he swallowed and continued on,
“Ma, I‟m sorry. I didn‟t have enough time to get the things you wanted, so I took
what I could and ran. Guess I didn‟t get too far huh?” He tried to laugh but the pain
in his ribs made it hard.
           “Chris baby? Don‟t worry…” his mother was trying to tell him
something but he couldn‟t hear her any more.
           “No!” Whitney yelled waking up from her nap. Panicking she looked
around the room and saw Chris sitting on the couch talking to his girlfriend or
whichever one it was today. He looked up.
           “Ma, you looked worried, you okay?” he asked, hanging up his phone to
help his mother stand.
           “Yea baby, I‟m fine, where‟s your father?” She asked, still on edge from
her dream.
                                                                            Next Page
       “You tell me who he is and I‟ll go find him.” Chris said as he plopped down on
the couch and took out his phone.
       “Stop playing boy and tell me where your father is!” she demanded, walking
into the kitchen.
       “Mr. Williams, went to the corner. He said he‟s going to go pick up his money
from his, let‟s just say from his workers.”
       “Oh.” Whitney knew she was in for it. Katae never liked to be broke and this
week was bad. She winced as she felt the scar on her ribs.
       “B****, get your sorry a** out here now!” Katae yelled, slamming the door
closed. “Two stacks, I only made two stacks!” Whitney began to back up and Chris
walked out of the room, knowing what was going to happen next.
       “Why isn‟t there more than two stacks?” Whitney shrugged her shoulders, “I
know you don‟t know. You never know anything, you‟re just a stupid whore!!”
Whitney fell to the floor, hurt from the impact of the vase hitting her head.

                                                                           Next Page




                                                                   The Final blow cont‟d
     “ Pick up this mess, you dumba** slacker. This house is never clean!” he
dropped his sandwich wrapper on the floor went up to the bathroom. Crying
Whitney waited for the sound of the shower before moving. Chris stood in the
shadows shaking his head.
      “Ma, why you let that man hit you?”
      “He‟s just angry baby.” Whitney picked up the pieces of the broken vase.
      “Ma, it ain‟t no angry in it. That man is going to kill you and your going to
let him!” Beginning to get angry, Chris walked up to his mother and gave her a
hug, letting her tears fall on his shoulder.
      “Ma, I‟m going to get you out of this but you have to trust me, okay?” He
waited for his mother‟s response.
      “Okay baby. But don‟t do anything crazy. I know deep down that he‟s a good
man.”
      “Deep down where?” Chris exclaimed, moving his eyebrows like Jim Carey.
With his mother snickering, he went off to get the first aid kit.
                                                                            Next Pag

                                                            The Final Blow cont‟d
                                       ***
       “Mr. Williams! Your girl at the door”
       “Tell her I‟m coming!” he grabbed his wad of cash and walked down the
stairs. Approaching Chris, he stopped.
       “Lil‟ nigga, if you got a problem go ahead and say something. And if you
not gonna say Nothing, go help your good for nothing momma cook my dinner”
       “No!” Chris yelled, “get your lazy a** in the kitchen and cook it yourself!
Ma is in bed sick, and I‟m taking her to MY grandma‟s house to get better.”
       “Ah,” Katae said mockingly, “Lil‟ nigga got some groupies and now he
think he the yit!!” Chris held his tongue because he knew today was THE day.
       “That‟s what I thought! Get your sissy a** in there and use that sugar in
your walk to bake me a cake.” It took every muscle in Chris‟s body to restrain him
from hitting the man standing in front of him.
       “Whatever.” Katae shouted as he left with his girl for the week. Watching
him leave, Chris shouted.
       “Ma, C‟mon, it‟s time. You‟re going to Aunt V‟s house. Jessica said she‟d
be here by 8 to pick you up.”

                                                                         Next Page


                                                                   The Final Blow Cont‟d
      “And where will you be? I thought you were coming too.”
       “I am, I just wanna…” Just then a knock came from the door. “Ma, Jessica‟s
here.” He opened the door, “Hey bae, how you doing?” Chris asked, welcoming her
into the house.
       “I‟m fine. I saw the car in the driveway leave, was that him?”
       “Yea, hold on, MA!”
       “I‟m coming, I‟m coming.” Chris grabbed her bags and carried them to the
car.
       “Ma, I should be at the house by noon.”
       “Okay baby, be safe.” Chris stood at the door, making sure they got down the
street safely.
                                         ***
       “Ma, I‟m coming, I‟m just grabbing a few things from the store.” Chris
checked his gun to make sure the bullets were all there.
       “Chris, be home in half an hour.”
                                                                           Next Page


                                                            The Final Blow Cont‟d
      “Alright, love you Ma bye.” Quickly moving, Chris grabbed everything he saw
that was worth something to his mother. He knew Katae was coming home in close to
an hour. Just enough time for him to drop off his mother‟s things, and get back at his
so-called “father.”
      It had been two months since he and his mother had left, but with the time they
had to pack, she had forgotten a lot of her things. He dropped the bag under the step of
his aunt‟s house and headed back to his car.
BANG! The gunshot echoed throughout the neighborhood. Whitney ran out the door
and saw her son fall to the ground. Crying, she hurried over to her son‟s body.
      “Quick someone call an ambulance!” Rocking her son back and forth, she heard
him try to speak.
      “Ma?” It seemed as if he was fighting just to get the words out. “Ma, I‟m sorry. I
should‟ve come home, but I got your things.” He

                                                                               Next Page




                                                               The Final Blow cont‟d
tried to smile but it seemed like the pain was preventing it. She saw the ambulance round
the corner.
       “Chris! Baby, don‟t worry, the ambulance is here.”
       As she sat and watched the ambulance ride off, she looked in to the night and saw
Katae.
       “You see, you can‟t just leave me and think I‟ll be okay. I was going to find you
and you knew it.” Katae walked slowly towards her, closing the gap between them.
       “What do you want?” Whitney looked around and spotted the gun lying in the spot
Chris‟s body once laid. He kept closing the space. As she backed up she tripped. The
gunshot rang out.
                                          ***
       Taking in a deep breath, Whitney opened her eyes. Beginning to stand, She felt a
helping hand she looked up.
       “It‟s okay Ma,” Chris hugged her, “We‟re finally safe.” They walked off as their
wings glistened in the sunset.




                                                             The Final Blow Cont‟d
Predicted Darkness
         As I stood there
    Watching him walk away
     I realized that we were
              already
           Miles apart;
              No kiss
              No hug
    No agreement to try to be
              friends
         I felt misplaced
             Or was it
         That I was dazed

                   Next Page
    I thought we could make it
     But I was painfully wrong
           And there I was
             Once again
                 Alone
        I began to hide away
      Trying to mask my pain
           But it was too…
               Obvious
    I wanted to tell him to stop
     But I knew it was too late
            He was gone
         Like everything else
  That had once made me smile
Covered by the darkness that comes
            After the light



                               Predicted darkness cont’d
The Abandoning
                             Three more hours
          Two hours and fifty nine minutes left
                   Why does time move so slow
                                      I lay there
                                        Thinking
        What will happen when the door opens?
                       Goodness how time flies
                                       He’s here
                                       That look
                                          Oh god
                         We’re going for a ride
                              I don’t want to go
                          Hey we’re at a forest
                                 Chase the ball
                                Where’d he go?
                                       I’m alone

                                      Next Page
    Once again abandoned
               I wander about
                      I’m home
                 His cars there
           I scratch the door
   What is she doing here?
       He doesn’t want me
       What? I’m confused
Once again I feel abandoned
              I have no home
                        At least
                  not anymore
          I walk to the street
                     I lay there
   Making sure not to move
               The car comes
      All dogs go to heaven
                   Don’t they?



            The Abandoning
                Cont’d
The Suicidal Lover
               He died
       The stupid jerk is dead
   With all that I‟ve done for him
    He didn‟t even say goodbye
          I hope he‟s happy
    This is what he‟s done to me
I hope everyone else will understand
    That I can‟t live without you
     I‟d rather drink the poison
      Of a thousand scorpions
  Than go through life without you

                                Next Page
And in writing this I hope they understand
                      that
   I am who I am when I‟m with you
         And now I jump, rope
      sturdily tied around my neck
             I squirm a little
    But that‟s because this rope is so
                uncomfortable
          Sincerely yours…no
             Yours truly… no
       Until new birth do we part,
            The suicidal lover.




                                             The Suicidal Lover cont‟d
                                        Reflections

•The most challenging assignments to me were the five journal entries. It challenged me to further explain
my thoughts and to make sure they were all on the level that I wanted them to be able to show exactly what I
felt when I wrote them.

•The assignment that I am most proud of is the conflict story because I feel that grasped the concept that I
was trying to get, also because the story is so realistic that it seems as if it could have happened to anyone.

•I choose not to put my character sketch in to the portfolio because I didn‟t entirely understand how to write a
story that show people what my friend looks like without telling them straight out.

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4.   “She is my beacon, telling me I‟m safe, that I made it another day” –from, „off of 42nd Ave.‟ I find
     this the best because of the symbolic meaning of my dog to me.


“…They want you to live covered by a shadow that wasn‟t yours to begin with.”- From „living under a
   shadow.‟ This fragment comes to me as way of serious expression because I believe no one like to
   held under a bar that someone else set and would rather set his or her own goals.


“For I am alone.” –from my fear. This one line speaks to me s the best in this poem because it is me
      stating a fear that I have long held and with me stating it, I unveil a long list of emotions.

“ …We are fearfully and wonderfully made.”- From the perfect body. It‟s the truth, the reason why I
like this fragment of the sentence is because it is the truth and everyone should try his or her beat to
understand why.


“I saw a boy who was permanently bound to crutches.”-From Paradise is in Your Mind. I chose this
sentence because it gives recognition to the boy who inspired me to write that entire journal entry.


“They walked off as their wings glistened in the sunset.”-From The Final Blow. This sentence is my
favorite because it has a lot of happiness glowing form the words and it makes me feel warm inside to
know that my characters had a happy ending even though they were killed.
                                                                                        Reflections cont’d
                                                                                                 Next Page
“But it was too… Obvious.” –from Predicted Darkness. This sentence stands out to me because of an
earlier poem that I wrote the week, and it made me continuously think about all the moments that
would‟ve seemed obvious if I wasn‟t so obsessed with the world being perfect.


“All dogs go to heaven” – from The Abandoning. This is like the joke of a really serious poem. If you
recall the movie all dogs go to heaven that‟s what I was thinking, but I brought it back to serious with the
question, don‟t they?


“I‟d rather drink the poison of a thousand scorpions” –from The Suicidal Lover. I chose this because of
such pain those word feel, plain and simple.
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                                                                                       Reflections cont’d
5. As a writer your main focuses are showing emotion and making sure your point is known. Seeing as those
are your strong point your writing reflects the work you put into it to show those points leaving behind
purpose and the imagery is no as well as it could be and your diction in the short story could‟ve have been
improved. I suggest that when you write you write from a reader‟s point of view and make sure that
everything flows together and your imagery leaves pictures in your mind.

6. I would most likely extend „The Final Blow‟ because I feel that there is a lot more to the story that I could
get in, a lot more that I could explain and a lot more feeling that I could I could give into writing the story.
Extending „The Final Blow‟ would be easier to me because it‟s a story and every story has more than one
point if view. The poems can‟t be extended because further extension would take away from the feeling.

7. I would feel most comfortable adapting the perfect body into another genre. It would be easier because I
have such a strong opinion on the thought that people would do so much to their body to please other people.
With the emotion I feel about it, I would adapt into the poem genre.
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                                                                                        Reflections cont’d
8. To chose one of my writings to reflect my personality is hard because I try my hardest to put myself
           into my story, but if I had to choose one I would choose „The Abandoning.‟
When I read my poem I see my fear of being alone, showing my friendly personality because as the
    saying goes, “you attract more flies with honey than you do with vinegar.” The second thing is my
    love of dogs which makes me playful because having a dog means you can‟t just sit on you bum all
    day, you have to play with him. They‟re just so darn cute. Finally, the end of the poem show my
    most shown personality, depressed because when you look at your life and realize that is not how
    you thought it was, its really hard on you.

 9.One of the things I was told about my writing was that I was hard to follow. Ever since then it was
      sort of hard for me to get back out there and write another short story. But taking to heart what
      she said I worked on my writing and the next chance I get, I‟m confident that it will be better.
 10.Georgia from the series, confessions of Georgia Nicholson, written by Georgia Nicholson.
 Meghan,
 Your writing is great, way better than my vati‟s DIYs. If you work a little harder your writing could be
      la mouche. I don‟t think that anyone in och aye land would be able to write with such passion as
      you do no matter how much they rate themselves. Hold on Archie is trying to eat the pencil,
      seeing as Libby dipped it in his normal lunch. Any who, I hope you continue to work on your
      writing; you have so much potential.
                                   Sincerely,
                                                Georgia
                                                                                 Reflections cont’d
      Portfolio II

The Continuation Of A Growing Mind
                Three wishes
     I wish that all of the non-ugly people weren‟t gay. It
hurts me so much to see them kissing other cute guys. It‟s
just not right. I mean, the cutest people that are guys are
gay. But, the ugly guys who think they‟re cute because they
have cash in their pockets and dress well, are straight.
Where is the justice in that!!!
     I wish I were back in Florida living with my dad
because Virginia stinks.
     I wish I had fairy god parents tog rant every single wish
I have from now until I die because three wishes isn‟t
enough to fulfill my desires.
Part of the Crowd
      To be or not to be
     That is the question
    But what if the answer
    Leaves you in a crowd
           Numbered
    Placed among the rest
           Un-unique
    Just like everyone else
  Who choose the same as you
     One in a million
    But there‟s a million
        Just like me
    Who share the same
          Aspects
 What makes me different
Is what makes me the same
         Numbered
     Just like the rest
        I‟m original
      Yea, whatever
     My hatred
     In the midst of my anger
           I fall into you
         The one who lied
The one who told me I was nothing
  Holding back my want to hurt
               To kill
         To destroy you!!!
   If you thought I was nothing
      Then now I won‟t exist
      Haunting your thoughts
       Invading you dreams
    Trespassing into you fears
       Creating an alternate
          More dominant
       reason for you to live
          To lose yourself

           Next page
My hatred cont‟d




                      In a never ending void of despair
                            Your own black hole
                    Leading into the darkness of my mind
                   Showing you the result of your betrayal
                          You‟re in my world now
                  Pharmacy Love
        It was 1970 when I first met him. He was 5‟2” with a caramel
complexion that would Mrs. Clause leave the jolly old fat guy for her
Christmas. As I walked into the pharmacy, I could see how his eyes lingered
over me. I decided to play hard to get.            Talking to the pharmacist was
the best way to go. I told him I wanted to refill my mother‟s medication and he
dropped it on the scale.
        “That will be $27.49 Ms. Thomas.” I reached for my purse but a hand
stopped me.
        “I‟ll take care of that ma‟am.” I later found out that he meant the bag,
but he offered to pay for the medicine as well.
        “ Thanks trying to go through my purse right now would‟ve agitated me
to high heavens.” I looked at him and realized he had the sexiest hazel eyes
I‟ve ever seen. The part is they were looking straight at me.
        “So, is it Ms. Thomas?” I think he purposely emphasized the “ms.” But
it felt like someone had put earplugs in my throat because it was like
something was choking me and keeping me from answering. Awkwardly, he
repeated himself. This time I made sure I spoke smooth and poised.
      “Yes, but that doesn‟t tell me who you are. So Mr. Gentleman,” I said
trying to look as sexy as possible, “ who are you?” he looked amazed
                 “If you must know, I‟m the guy who just paid for your
mother‟s medicine. But you can call me Aaron. I‟m usually called Mr. James
by my kids.”
      By this time we‟d gotten to the parking lot and had begun to walk
towards my car.
      “ Oh so you‟re married.” I was trying to get as much out him as possible
and he knew it.
      “No, I‟m a doctor. I‟m single but this lady I met today won‟t give me a
chance to ask her out.” That stopped me dead in my tracks. Was he talking
about me? I wanted to know- heck! I needed to know. So I did what any
curious person would do. Ask!
      “So why don‟t you?”
      “I don‟t know. So I‟ll just ask. Ms. Thomas, would you like to go out
with me on Friday night.”
                  The Closet
     If some one were to open my closet they‟d never be
the same. I‟m not talking about the everyday run-of-the-
mill closets. I‟m talking about the closet in the mind.
Everything, from my secrets to my fears resides in there.
Everything would suffocate you with its severe intensity.
     If someone opened that closet they‟d be brought
toward that back by a light of false hope, then torn apart
limb from limb by my most torturing fear. As they open
their eyes, swiftly breathing in air, they‟d be touched by
the film of my childhood memories. Crying when such an
innocent little girl scrapes her knee while playing outside
     If someone opened that closet and walked to the
darkest corner they‟d see a dead little girl afraid to grow up
because she‟s to scared to be alone. They‟d see the tears
that don‟t look of tears but of black coal.
     If someone opened the closet in my mind, they‟d want
to go away. In my mind things happen but I can never get
away.
                  The Blessed one
       “Aaaah!” screamed a woman holding a child as her body was
completely engulfed in flames.
       “Mariah! Mariah where is Talia?‟ screamed the woman‟s husband as the
fire unmercifully burned down their home.
       “She‟s with me.” As her last word escaped form he mouth, the final bit
of life she had left was lost forever to the blazing flames. Her husband still
alive lay next to her. Even though the pain was unbearable, he refused to say a
word for his daughter was safe, shielded by her mother and father‟s burnt
corpses.
       The next morning as the fire fighters put out the last of the flame that lit
up the morning sky, they heard the cry of little Talia. Sorry for the child, they
dropped her off at the Wayside Christian Orphanage.
       “Good luck angel. OH well look at this! A necklace! It says your name
is Talia. Well nice meeting you.” The fire fighter kissed Talia gently on her
fore head and handed her sleeping body to the head nun. Three years passed
when the Lambert family finally decides to adopt her.
       “We‟ll love her like he was our on flesh and blood.” Mrs. Lambert
assured, carrying Talia on her hip.
        “As official policy we have to take her picture for you and do a complete
background check on you and your family. Alright! Talia, smile!” As the camera
Flashed Talia snapped back from her daydream as Ryan, her foster parents‟ son,
got off of her.
        “It‟s a good thing you‟re her sis,” Ryan said mockingly, “how else would I
release this sexual frustration?”
        “Ryan,” Talia said coldly, “I hope you burn in the deepest darkest pits of
hell!” She glared at him with her intensely beautiful eyes. She‟d put up with her
so-called „brother‟ raping her sense her seventh birthday. An no matter how much
she told her foster parents they never believed that their real son had ever done
such an act of disrespect for her. Besides he had a girlfriend, why would he want
her?
        “I‟m sure you do sis. But until then,” he got in her face and gave her a deep
kiss. Once she pushed him away he continued “you‟re all mine, and if you ever get
a boyfriend, I‟ll personally Kill Him.”
        That sent Talia crazy. She rushed out of the room to her sanctuary, to the
attic. She ran so fast that she hardly noticed the big black chest that tripped her
over. Luckily there was another chest there to catch her.
        “What in the world? That damn chest, what the heck is in there anyway?”
curious she limped over to the chest and opened it. I guess you could say it wasn‟t
all that hard considering the lock was broken.
        “Hey I remember this lady.” Talia looked at the picture as she suddenly
remembered the lady from her dream was in the picture and so was the guy.
       Overwhelmed with curiosity she continued to look deeper in to the chest
finding everything from newspaper clippings that kept talking about some big fire, to
picture of the couple she kept having dreams about. Looking deeper she found her
adoption papers. Seeing this took her by no surprise, seeing as everyone in that house
made it known that she was adopted.
       “I wonder what my adoption papers would be doing in this chest with all this
old junk with some lady and guy who got killed in fire about the same time I was
born.” Realizing that she‟d been reading about her parents he jumped and quickly felt
the pain of why you shouldn‟t. She leaned over holding her hands to her injured head
and cursed the ceiling for being so darned close. In a matter of moments Talia had
gone through every piece of paper in the chest. Coming across headlines such as:
“The couple from hell” or “Stone family kills another.”
       “Talia! Get down here and eat!” Mrs. Lambert hollered form down the steps to
the attic.
       “I wonder why she never comes up here anymore. I mean she had to have
come up her once before because all of her stuff is here.” Talia questioned loudly as
she dawdled down the stairs.
       “Hey moms, why haven‟t I ever seen you go up in the attic? You always stop
at the steps or send someone up to get me.”
       “I don‟t see any reason of me ever going up there. I have nothing I‟ll ever need
up there.” Her mother said fixing herself a plate of mashed potatoes.
       “Well, what about that chest up there?”
Her mother paused, thinking about the answer and calmly answered,
       “Which chest Hun, there are tons of chests up there that you could be
talking about?”
       “The big black chest with a broken lock that has a lot of newspaper
clippings. Most of them are talking about a man and woman who were killed
in a huge fire. You know that one?” Talia gave her mother the most innocent
stare and hoped for an answer, but to put a little added pressure, she ended her
blinking gesture with, “that same chest with my adoption papers in it.”
       Standing still looking out to nowhere her mother bluntly changed the
subject.
       “You know that room of yours hasn‟t been cleaned in while now. After
dinner make sure that you do that, ok babe?” she walked into the dining and
dropped the conversation there.
       “If she‟s not going to tell me about my own parent then I‟ll find out for
myself.” After diner she grabbed the phone and rushed upstairs.
       “I‟m cleaning my room Mom!” she yelled giving herself half an hour to
call the people on the adoption papers.
       “Hello Wayside Christian Adoption center, this is Sister Annaleisa how
my I help you?”
       “Um yes, my name is Talia Stone. And I was told that I was adopted from
her around 1994. Do you think you could help me find out about my real
parents?”
       “Talia! Oh my lord yes! Um do you have instruction on how to get here?
Never mind tell me where you live and I‟ll come get you!”
       “Um I don‟t think you should do that my foster parents would like that very
much-- you know me?”
       “Yes I remember the night they brought you here?”
       “They?”
       “Yes the fire fighters, I‟ll tell you more once I see you.”
       “Do you think you could meet me at the church on sherry lane?” Talia look
outside her window and looked at the old church.
       “Sure that‟s fine how about on Saturday at 4? I have something I have to do
that morning that I can‟t put off.”
       “Sure! That‟d be wonderful” Talia squealed
       “See you soon Hun!”
       Pleased with how well she‟d done that she continued to clean her room. Out
of that shadows her brother arose and grabbed her by that neck.
       “Who are you trying to meet over there by that church Bea? An old friend?
A new friend? A boyfriend?” he threw her on to her bed and pinned her down.
“Didn‟t I tell you about getting a boyfriend?”
       “I‟m meeting a friend but it‟s not a boy!” she said in a panicked voice.
       “How do I know you‟re not lying to me?” he said yanking off her skirt with
one hand and holding her down with the other.
       “Ryan, have I ever lied to you?” she said scared for her life, hoping that he
would show some sort of mercy.
       “No but how do I know that today isn‟t the day that you decide to start?”
Ramming himself into her he began to viciously beat her while at that same time
Rape her. Ten minute and a thousand tears shed later he got off of her and left the
room.
       “If I see you with a boy I‟m going to kill him and then I‟m going to kill you.”
                                         ***
       “Are you sister Annaleisa?” Talia walked up to the only nun on the block.
       “Yes I am, Talia?” Sister Annaleisa Gasped in disbelief as if she was
standing in the presence of God himself.
       “The one and only. So please could you tell me about me about my parents?”
Talia took sister Annaleisa by the hand and gave her big puppy dog eyes.
       “Yes but please I need you to come with me. I want to show you something,
and I think it will answer a lot of your questions in itself.”
       “Okay, let‟s go.” Talia looked around at the block and noticed only a navy
blue Mercedes and a lime green Porsche. “So where‟s our ride?” Talia asked
wondering what sister Annaleisa came in.
       “Right here,” she stated as she pointed to the navy blue Mercedes, “what
do you think I drive around in a beat down ugly car?” Giggling, she unlocked
the car and le t Talia in.
       About an hour later they were in front of the Wayside Christian
Cathedral. A beautiful Building with doors that looked as if it touched the sky.
       “What are we doing here?” Talia looked at the building in confusion.
       “This is the church where both your mother and father were born and
through out their lives they helped served and protected those who lived
around, and worshipped in our church. I guess you could say that they were
born to be together. Since they were given such a great responsibility God
blessed them with, I guess you would say, powers. They had the power to hurt
those who hurt them or anyone else they loved. This is why when more and
more foreigners moved in and our natives died out that they weren‟t as
appreciated.” Looking at Talia to see if she had understood most of what she
had said. But, she found Talia sitting on the ground crying,
       “That explains what happened to Ryan yesterday!”
       “What do you mean child?” Sister Annaleisa inquired, looking at Talia
in complete confusion.
       “Three days ago Ryan, my foster brother, threatened me. He told me if I
ever got a boyfriend he‟d kill him then he‟d kill me. And that I was his release
for his sexual frustration. Then Yesterday, I was thinking of ways to teach him
a lesson when the hospital called and said that he‟d been admitted and was in
critical condition. They weren‟t sure if he‟d live or not but they wanted his
family. But what spooked me the most is when they told me that he had been
caught in a twelve car Pile up and was the only one who was injured. The rest
or the people walked out of the accident with a few scratches on them. He was
the only one.”
       “Oh my goodness!” Sister Annaleisa got to her knees and tried to
comfort Talia. “Hush Child, don‟t say that. God was tired of seeing his
blessing being treated in such a Manner.”
       “So, what does this all mean?” Talia looked up unveiling her red-
rimmed eyes.
       “It means that you are already in line to receive God‟s blessing. Talia
you on your own have the power to protect the people you love. But when the
Lambert‟s adopted you we made them promise that once you were ready they
would tell you about everything but, after the Adoption was final we realized
that they were the family that killed your parents but we had no proof.”
       “Then how did you find out?”
       “They told us.”
At that moment it seemed as if the world was coming to an end. The sky
darkened and it rained Down Black soot.
       “Talia! Talia listen to me this isn‟t the way to handle anything.” She
covered herself as a huge gust of wind blew through out the area.
Darkened by the anger that had suddenly blocked her senses, “why Should I?
They handled it like this.”
As sudden as it had started everything ended and Talia fell to the ground.
       “Talia! No lord have mercy at the Gates to home This Child knew not of
what you have blessed her with. Please just give her happiness as she moves to
sit next to you in your great wonderland.” She kissed Talia‟s Forehead and
fingered the necklace around her neck.
      The following Thursday as Talia‟s body was laid to rest and as soon as
her body was completely covered with dirt for the first time since her death eh
sun came out. She looked down on what was her home then turned around and
hugged her mother and father.
      “Jesus?”
      “Yes?”
      “Why like this? Why did I have to go through so much? Why didn‟t I
Die in the fire with my mother and father?”
      “Because My child it was what you choose, as it was in the beginning.”

          He turned and walked away into the infinite unknown of heaven.
      Disappointment
             What?!
         Are you serious
            NOOO!!
Who will deliver the presents now?
   The Final Installment


The Masterpieces of the Grown Mind
The Rules of Meg-Isle
           1. Do not steal
    2. Take only what you need
   3. Eat to live don’t live to eat
       4. Trust your friends
         5. Be trustworthy
  6. Listen to whatever I say
    7. Exercise twice a day
    8. Don’t hit each other
9. Don’t go pass the safety line
10. Always have a song to sing
            Sovereign speech
      Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me you ears.
Okay seriously, I‟ve invited you all here for many reasons.
The main reason I‟ve invited you is because I wanted you
to live here on my island. With your help I can modernize
and make this our home. We could all, how the lawyer
says, “populate the island” and have a great time. I know
you all have lives back on the mainland but with
teamwork, cooperation, and determination we could all
live here happily.
      This is a big job but with your help and expertise I
believe that we as a people, the new inhabitants of meg-
isle, can do it. This beautiful island is now ours to mold
and shape into our very own society, if you chose to accept
my invitation. So the question now lies unanswered. Tell
me now, do you?
                      Waves
     I imagine myself looking at this I feel refreshed yet
hot, relaxed yet stressed because I realize today is my last
day on vacation and I‟ll soon be back in the bustling streets
of Miami, Florida. I breathe in smelling and tasting the
saltiness of the sea not to far away. A tear falls. I smile.
This vacation was amazing. Looking at those trees,
memories of a place I‟ve not left begin to play. Reading in
the shadows of the tree and playing hide and seek on the
beachfront with my family.
     Warmheartedly I turn on the radio and begin packing,
making just enough noise to wake my niece. I breathe in
once again and try to stay in the moment but the constant
tugging on my skirt brings me back to reality. Back to my
heart and joy. Back to packing so we don‟t miss our plane.
Stopping, just long enough to give my niece an apple to
soothe her growling tummy. For a second nothing could
get better until the alarm clock rings. Now I can officially
begin my day.
                   One Thing
     The one thing that truly makes me happy is
swimming. I have to admit that I‟m not the best swimmer
but being in the water makes me think I‟m so free, well
until I hit the wall. But when I swim its like nothing in the
world could slow me down. Jumping in the water the first
time I get in to a pool sends so much of a burst of energy
through my body its like nothing in the world could
compare to that first moment. The clear blueness of the
water is just so relaxing.
     I mean everything about swimming is great. The first
time you hit the perfect dive after messing up two and
three times in a row gives you such a feeling of
accomplishment. There are other things that make me
happy but I can do those things year round. Unlike
swimming, when you only have a certain amount of time a
year to do it. I guess you could say it‟s my ecstasy.
           What does it take?
     What does it take to let people know that they are
wrong? I don‟t want to be overbearing or anything but
sometimes when people are wrong and they KNOW it they
jus keep fighting hoping that you‟ll give up. I think it‟s
hilarious but sometimes it‟s annoying. For instance when
you‟re arguing with your parents, lets face it everybody
argues with their parents. But when you are arguing and
you notice that they are stuttering, don‟t you want to smile
because that means they know that they are really close to
losing.
     They don‟t want to admit it but they are. In my
opinion I think they should give up when the first realize it.
But no that won‟t happen because you are both egotistic
people and they don‟t want you to win because then that
means that their kids are smarter than them. And that‟s a
big blow to their ego. So I guess it take a continuous flow
of blows to their ego before they just give up.
     Do you have the cheese?
     (Cheesy tots push the tater tot in to the corner when
the door bell rings; at day care center called the burger
king. The tater tots parents are sitting with the head of
     daycare when the parents come in)
     Head of daycare: Mr. and Mrs. Cheese. Your twins,
Cheddar and Mozzarella have been             bullying the
     other tots around. I just don‟t know what to do with
them.
     Mrs. Cheese: well I‟ve never. They‟re the best tots
I‟ve ever had.
             Mrs. Tater: well potato came home yesterday
     saying he needed to get some cheese.
             (Mrs. Tater starts crying.)
             Mr. Tater: my job doesn‟t give me cheese
insurance.
     (Picture of cheesy tot flashes on the screen as the
     voice over begins)
     Voice over: new cheesy tots at burger king™. Are you
tough enough to handle them? Now at       burger king for
prices starting at
     Have it your way jingle plays

                ~End of commercial~
  Have you ever?
   Been sad without a reason
     Stayed up to fall asleep
Dressed completely out of season
Felt strong when you were weak
     Eaten slugs just for fun
     Gone sledding up a hill
    Started talking to no one
        Given someone a $750 bill
  Climbed on your roof just to get away
      Cried for attention by being bad
               Tripped on air
         Turn away and hit a wall
Felt someone tapping, but no one was there
     Waited for an answer but no call?
      Just Because
         Just because I‟m me
     Don‟t expect me to change
Don‟t think my opinions are wrong
         I might just be right
         Just because I‟m me
It doesn‟t mean I‟ll always disagree
     It doesn‟t make you perfect
   We‟re all messed up sometimes
            Just because I‟m me
             I want you to smile
               And to be happy
Just because I‟m me- please try to understand
    Da truth
    You started saying
    you were the truth
A lie in your first words
   You said you cared
   A lie in the next set
      But in the end
I guess you was Da truth
   Just to let you know
   My name is Meghan
                  Reflections
~~How have you developed as a writer this year? What
have you learned or what skills have you gained?
As a writer this year I learned to write outside of my little
circle and explore other areas. In doing this I‟ve learned to
write about anything if I put my mind to it and excel at it.
But determination is the key.
 ~~What lessons about writing can you apply to other
classes?
Well, I was lucky enough to have gone over the poetry unit
in creative writing before I went over it in English. So
when the quiz came around I was prepared and knew
everything. It also helped when my project require an
analysis, I knew just what to do
What strategies have you used to overcome some of the
 challenges of writing this year?
 My main strategy was to just have fun, because nothing
 good came from somebody hating what they had to do.

What were your strengths in writing?
My strengths were being creative and that came in handy
 when the major projects came around.
What have you learned about yourself this year through
your writing?
I learned that while most people writing reflect how they
feel, that I can pull any emotion out and make it seem as if
I was feeling that on my paper.

What areas do you need to continue to develop as a writer?
I think the main area I need to develop is the understanding
of a deadline because that is my weakest point in all my
classes.
Have a nice day!!!

								
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