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. 

What if? : some questions

What if we were wrong about everything that we knew?  What if everythung thay've told us is untrue?  What if life is nothing more than a mere illusion?  All the scientifc conclusions that have been made, the experiments done?  What if it were nothing more than a dream.  The things in our dreams, what if, in some other world, in some other dimension, those things really happened, are happening?  These are questions that I have wondered over the span of years that has been my life.  Questions that I thought about, what if?  Ask yourself, what if?  Wonder what would happen if this was how it is?  How would people react to it, would they freak out and run about?  Would they faint, slumping over their face a deadly white?  Could they possiblly scream for joy?  We may never know.  All these what if questions may go unanswered for all of eternity, which, as I imagine is a very long time.  So as you sit here reading this, clear the everyday clutter of your brain, and ask what if?

The Atom: a story

"You promised this wouldn't hurt anyone!" Dan screamed through his gas mask.  Anna could barely hear him over the whistling and through the thick grey smoke that clouded the room. 

"How was i supposed to know it would make an atom bomb??" she screamed back.

"We have to get out of here, before it blows!"

"No, you go, I have to finish what i started."  And with that she turned and disappeared into the grey smoke.  Dan began to run after her only to stop again.  The realization came over him that he was standing in a cloud of radioactive smoke, 15 feet away an atom bomb was about to blow up, he had no idea as to where the car was, and his best friend had just gone to try and turn off the bomb.

He began running in the general direction where he last saw her.  He stopped when he bumped into something, Anna.

"We have to get out of here before the thing blows!"

"No" she said "we have to disable it, if we dont then it has enough energy to take out the whole town!"  And so together they began doing everything they could.  Pulling wires,playing with liquids, even attempting to smash the bomb that was supposed to be a miniture reactor.  All that happedned was more smoke.  It was getting harder and harder to breathe.  Finally Anna pulled a small green wire, the thing made a beeping noise and the light inside went out.

"You... disabeled... I think..." Dan and Anna were struggling to breathe.  The toxic smoke seemed to be thickening.  As Dans vision blurred he saw Anna reach for something.  Then he blacked out.

A flash of white startled the sore eyes.  Where am I?  He wondered.  Am I dead?  He struggled to move his head, and found pain shooting through every part of his body.  He felt things on his face, things on his arms.  He couldn't speak.  His throat felt like someone had taken a needle and ran it in circles around his throat.  Suddenly the light was blocked by a face.  "I'll send the doctor in in a minute." she said.

Later he learned that Anna had been reaching for a phone.  She was awake long enough to tell them where they were.  Dan and Anna where brought to the hospital and where treated for severe radioactive infection.  This included several surgeries and having their stomachs pumped out.  The newspapers called them heros for disabling a nuclear bomb big enough to blow out a small town.   After that they where different, more reserved.  The lab had all but melted down and was no longer in use due to radioactivity. 

Imagine: a point of view

If you want to see them then look.  But you have to look not with your eyes but with your mind.  That is the hard part.  But after you see, it's easy to see them again.  What are they, you ask?  They are the things of your mind.  They are the goblins and ghouls that scare you at night.  They are the dragons and knights found in fairytales.  They are everything, and yet are nothing.  They are inside you, in a place where only you can go. 

So just take a moment, in your living room, your kitchen, and see.  Go to a park, or deep inside a forest, and see.  See not others but those of your creation.  Nurture them and let them grow inside you.  Use your imagination, and make something wonderful with it.

Drunken Driving: a story (gory)

The world goes on, its daily life continues.  But mine does not.  My new daily life consists of waking every morning and walking to the small road off to the side of every thing else.  Not many cars come this way.  Nor many people.  Why she was even here was a mystery.

The street is narrow, barely enough for one car.  On either side are grimy brick walls, no sidewalk.  The walls block the sunlight, so it's a dark shadowy place.  Dark enough that you have to turn on your headlights when driving there.  When you walk through you feel tense, nervous.  As if a man in a black trenchcoat will reach out and grab, then pull you into the shadows, never to be seen again.

I walk along the side of the road, where the she was at the time of the accident.  I come to a spot on the wall, darker than the rest, and I hug the cold brick.  I spread myself out, splaying my limbs from either side.  I press my self against the cold stone.  The rough egde of one presses into my cheek.  I pray for my life to end like hers.  I imagine it every day.

 The silver toyota, screeching drunkly down the small alley.  She walks, her black hair drawn up into a ponytail bounces behind her.  Hearing the noise she turns, sees the veering car and runs.  It gets closer, closer.  It comes right at her, She tries to jump onto the hood, but is to late.  Half way there it strikes her.  Pushing the broken body against the wall.  You can hear the snap of the spine.  Blood spatters as her body is torn against the wall.  The look of horror stays on her face as the light is torn from her eyes.

 Days later a passer-by will see her slumped over the wrecked car, the crumpled hood had long since stopped smoking.  Her body is practicaly painted in blood, long since dried.  The reddish black color coats the hood and splatters the wall around her.  Inside the car isn't much better.  The slumped over body of the drunken driver has shards of glass sticking out of him.  The dashboard is pressed into him, creating a large crater in his skull.  A feral dog has reached her body.  One arm is missing except for a bit of flesh stuck to yellowing bones.  In his panic the passer-by he calls 911 and reports this sight. 

The police close off the alley and call her family.  I get the bad news.  And I sit.  She was my life.  Now it is empty.  So everyday i walk to the alley and press myself into the spot on the wall that is darker than the rest

The Road to No Where: a point of view

The long road to no where is a silent, evil place.
It winds past broken shops and broken people.
You see your fears and your nightmares come to life.
You are bullied, beaten and scared,
As you walk the long road to no where.

And yet, on the winding road to some where,
You laugh and love,
You weep and grieve,
You live your life,
As you walk the winding road to some where.

But as you walk a road,
Where is no where,
When everywhere is some where?

Homecoming: a true story

We got home today, from visiting family.  To get back to Korea, I went on a 1 hour flight, a 12 hour flight and a two hour flight.  With six jet lagged kids, and only two jet lagged adults, you must imagine that this is very hard.  Our first plane was delayed, so when we got to Chicago, we had to run to catch our next flight.  We had to go through customs, constantly make sure that we still had eight people, and find our gate.  We made it in enough time to get some lunch at McDonald's
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After we got off our last plane, we had to find our car.  One of my dads friends brought it to the air port so that we didn't have to take the subway.  It took us half an hour of lugging around all of our luggage (13 check bags, 16 carry ons) before we found our car.  We then loaded it and drove off.

We arrived at our apartment building and began unloading the car.  I shuffled upstairs behind my dad and walked right on inside.  The first place i went was my room.  I opened the door, and closed it behind me.  I shoved off the bags i had and fell onto the floor, just breathing, and hearing, and seeing.  I saw the blue-ish gray of my carpet, i heard the siren of a far off police car, i felt the rough fibers beneath my fingers.  I was so happy to finally be home, that it was all done, the vacation.  And so i lay, just breathing, and hearing, and seeing.

Temporarily lost: a true story

Yesterday we went on a hike.There were thirteen of us total, 5 adults and 8 children.  On the way there were supposed to be two mini waterfalls (water falling from about 20-30 feet off the ground) and a lake.  We easily made it to the first waterfall we stood under it and walked on the rocks around it.  It was a beautiful summer day, sunny, warm, and wrapped up with butterflies.  The leafy tops of the trees in the forest provided shade as they mingled high above.  On the ground fallen leaves crunched and crackled beneath our feet.  We all had our own bottles of water.  After taking pictures we crossed a small stream and did some exploring.  This was when we lost the trail without realizing it.  We found an easy to access rocky ledge about 15 feet up.  we all went up there and took pictures, my mom yelling at us to stay away from the edge the whole time.  After that we continued to explore.  We eventually came to a wreckage of about 3 or 4 downed trees.  We found an area that was sort of cleared and crawled through there. On the other side we kept on walking and talking.  In about 5 minutes we reached a cliff with a narrow path down.  At that point we sent the youngest kids back, and one of the adults.  Now there was 7.  We continued on.  We reached the bottom after a couple slips but no death.  At the bottom we found ourselves at another stream.  It took us about 5 minutes to realize we had no idea where we were.  Luckily my dad had his iPhone and we looked up where we were on Google maps and found the path.  On the bad side the path was on top of a HUGE hill.  I barely rememberd climbing the hill.  I remember huffing and puffing.   Pushing plants out of the way and extreme tiredness.  In the end we all got to the top with out to many scratches.  After that we sat around and drank water while we sent Rebecca (one of the adults) ahead to see if there were any obstacles on the path ahead.  She returned in about 15 minutes and said there's a tree but that's all.  We split up.  Some of us went forward, and others went back to the start.