9/11 Tribute

Smoke and fire
Licking fingers, teasing shoes

Bricks and Dust
Falling, flying, rolling, dying

Tears and Sobs
The crys of the people

China to America
Around the world, friends and enemys

This is 9/11/2001
One of our nations greatest wounds

This is 9/11/2011
We recover, but the hurt is not gone

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This is a day late, but I didnt think of this until I woke up this morning.

Death and Darkness

I fall, falling

Can anybody see, I cannot

Down and down, does not stop

Can anybody hear, I cannot

Heart slows, lungs wheeze

Can anybody feel, I cannot

Spinning, whirring, nothing

Can anybody smell, I cannot

Nothing, darkness, emptiness

Can anybody taste, I cannot

Where is this, this is nowhere, everywhere

Death, this is death

A Day in the Woods: a short story

 I open my eyes.  The cool, familiar breeze of the forest brushes my face.  The dirt and sticks press into my back.  Above me the dark sky pokes through the leafy green cover.  I slowly sit up and rub the sleep from my face.  Careful not to make any bones pop, I sit up and stretch.  Quietly I stand and begin tracking my food for the day.  My oiled boots like cats paws on the dry earth and the crackly leaves. 

I slide my knife from my belt and grip it in my hands as I go to my snares.  With luck I find a squirrel trapped in one.  I skin it and gut it, carefully putting the parts in a thick pouch for later.  I start a small fire and cook the squirrel by holding it over the fire.  When I am done eating I pack away everything and begin moving a gain.  Out here you must always move.  If you stop for to long then you will die. 

I trot on the balls of my feet.  I take a short stop every hour or so and drink from a pouch.  Soon I reach a lake.  I check my underwater traps and finding nothing, replace them with more bait, the remains of the squirrel.  On the way I see another squirrel but I do not catch it.  I pick some blackberries off a bush and eat them as I trot.

The moon high in the sky, I start looking for a place to sleep.  As I am clearing a spot deep in the foliage, I hear the howls of the wolves.  Bracing one foot behind me I throw back my head and howl with them.  Soon the 10 or 11 howls meld together to make a beautiful harmony.  When we are finished, I finish clearing, and lay down to sleep.

It has been many years now since I chose to leavee civilization.  Taking only a knife and my belt, as well as my knowledge, I ran to the woods, and here I live to this day.

Russias' thoughts: Hetalia

"BBBBBBBRRRRRIIING!!!  BBBBBBBRRRRRIIING!!!", was the first thing Ivan heard after waking up.  Still half asleep he got up and ambled over to the cell phone on his desk.

"'Allo"he said, still half asleep,"Ivan here, can I take a message?"

"Russia!!!"cried a bubbly voice on the other end,"Oh I am so glad you answered!!!"

The pale man sighed and replied"What do you want Italy, I was having a pleasent dream."  He thought about what he had been dreaming about, squashing everybodys heads while holding the earth in the palm of his hand.  Just thinking about it gave him a little smile that can only be described as creepy.

"I Called to say that Germany says hiiiii!!!  Dont you Germany??!  Oh yeah and Germany says he's planning to bomb you on OOOOOWWWWW!!!!!  Germany, why'd you hit me??  I was just- no! NO!!!  Pleasedontpleasedon'tIbruise, donthitmeeeee!!!!!"  And the line went dead.

The nation walked over to the window, his friendly blue eyes scanning his sunflower garden out the window.  War.  It was practically the second world war now, and so close to the first.  It was taking its toll.  In the end Germany would lose though, Ivan smiled at the thought of brutally stabbing him until he was no more.  But of course, he would not be the one to do so if that happened.  That show-off Alfred would most likely be the one.  Ivan made a mental note to crush America the stab Germany. 

He looked down at the phone, he was feeling a bit lonely, and overworked what with the war and all.  He dialed the number, and waited.  And waited.  And waited.  Finally Yaos voice came up from a prerecorded answering machine message. 

"Nihao!  This is Yao speaking, if you are hearing this then I am rebelling or hitting someone with a wok.  Of course I could be doing something else, so please leave a message after th beep."  This message was followed like a long beep.

"Yao, it's Ivan, I-I was wondering if you would like to come over for dinner sometime this week.  The war has been hard and I thought we might take a little brake.  C-call me when you get this."' and he hung up.

He had no idea why he was so nervous around Yao, it was so simple isn't it?  It's not like a, like a date.  Just dinner.  To sooth himself Russia went and sat down in his crimson arm chair, and thought about finally defeating Germany and then squishing his head.

Making Fun of Pots: a true story

Yesterday I spent the day out with friends.  First we went to the store for school supplies, then we went to the food court for a while.  While there we talked about Hetalia (an anime show that personifies countries) and we began talking about an incident in school earlier this year.

For one of our projects we had to turn an Edgar Allen Poe story into a small skit.  My friend and her group got the Masque of the Red Death.  For those of you who do not know what this is, the Masque of the Red Death is a story about a sickness.  It ravages the kingdom so the ever so wonderful Prince hides in his castle with all other Nobilities.  Then while all the peasants die the rich people are safe.  There is a masquerade and a clock that keeps scaring everyone.  For the sound of the clock. one of my friends brought in the pot.  In the end the personified red death kills everybody.

After the skit was done she kept forgetting to bring the pot home.  And one day her mom wanted to make soup, but didn't have the pot to make it with.  So she went in the next day and wrote in big red letters on the board,"BRING POT HOME".  And because we are all inappropriate middle schoolers, my other friend and I found it extremely funny when we heard this story.  We laughed for a straight half hour asking if the soup was good and if she used her "pot" in it.  And even after that we wouldn't let it go.  We kept bursting out in random laughter, just saying pot, soup, or scones.  For those of you who don't watch Hetalia, we were making fun of personified Britain (Iggy) making"special scones" using my friends "pot".  And that is how we spent an hour and a half making fun of pots.

(NOTE: I have no idea how to make scones, and I am unsure if you use a pot to make them.)

Baird the Carnivourous Unicorn: a story (gore)

The squirrel scurried across the branch, and hopped down to another one.  Beautiful fall leaves surrounded him, as he stopped at clusters to pick up acorns.  Somewhere in the same tree a bird chirped and sprung into a beautiful song.  Below him a chestnut horse with a single golden horn on its head silently waded through the piles of leaves.  Its head was bent over so low that the mud colored mane lightly brushed the leaves.  He stopped as he saw movement about a hundred feet away.  For any normal creature this would be impossible, through the trees and all, but for Baird the unicorn, anything was possible.  The movement that had made him stop was a wild dog that was coming this way.

"Wonderful" thought Baird.  Barely making any noise he buried the golden beauty atop his head under leaves.  Then he stood for a moment and concentrated.  Seconds later his chestnut coat had turnd to splotches of reds and golds and browns to match the forest around him.

The wild dog, unaware of the beast hiding amidst the background, kept on coming.  Soon he was right in front of Baird.  With a loud snort, Baird jumped out of the leaves, his horn goring the wild dog who made one last little yelp as he died. 

The colorful flurry died down and Baird removed the dead dog from his horn.  He gathered up the body in his mouth and began dragging it.  Behind them trailed bloodstained leafs from the bleeding body.  When they reached a smalll stream Baird set the dog aside and began dipping the golden spiral into the current and quickly removing it.  He did this several times for a half hour before his horn was clean.  Only then did he turn his attention to his kill.

The hole in the dog was rather pronounced, being about three inches in diameter.  Around the wound was matted down blood-stained fur.  It had been gored straight through the side at a slanted angle.  The unicorn nelt down and sank its razor-like teeth int the softened flesh of the dog, and pulled a way a chunk.  It continued eating it away until all the skin and fur was gone.  Then Baird began on the meat and the organs, stopping every now and then to drink from the stream beside him.

Remebering Norway: a memorial

 

Today marks the one month anniversary of the Norway massacre.  Seventy-seven people were killed, seventy of those victims were youths at a summer camp on the Norwegan island of Utoya.  It started with a car bomb outside the prime ministers office.  That killed seven.  Next a man dressed as a cop came to the island and confirmed the text messages that the youths had been recieving.  He looked like an officer, but he was not an officer.  After gaining the trust of the children he pulled out a gun and began open firing.  Every body ran.  Some begged for mercy, some hid.  Others tried to swim the channel, and died trying, either they were shot or drowned.  There was nowhere to go.  Let's take a moment in a victims shoes.

I was in the back of the group, and I heard the gun fire up front.  I heard kids screaming, and I got up and ran with the rest.  I found my best friend in the crowd of screaming children.  I've known them forever, we lived next to each other our whole lives.  We ran together, down to the waters edge.  We kept on running, splashing desperatly throught the water for our lives.  It hit me then, we couldn't swim the channel, it was to big.  I stopped my friend and we turned back only to see the cop.  He held a big gun in his hands, it was shiny and black.  Behind him and in front of him I saw bodies of kids and adults, blood staining the grass around all of them.  I looked down and saw the brown water now had a reddish tinge.  I heard more gunshots and looked over to see my best friends' dead face sinking into the water, blood swirling around him.  I looked one more time into his eyes, and then he shot me.

Now let us take a moment to remember the victims of the massacre, on it's one month anniversery.