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What I Write

 
 

I have a class called Creative Writing. One day one of the girls in there said "We write to much in this class!" It was realy... ironic.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

The following piece was recently written. It is based on a true event.

My class realy liked it. I could have done better but I did not have much time. I wrote it in two days. 



12, Oct. 2000



Characters

May: A young tomboy and body guard

Travis: A young boy who annoys May

Aaron: A young shy and awkward boy

Leon: A young boy who picks on Aaron

Ben: A team captain

Greg: Another team captain

Tony: Leonís brother

Narrator

Act I

Narrator: Hundreds of fourth graders ran crazy, scattering to cover the entire playground. Most of the boys ran to the field behind the swings and most the girls ran to the swings to watch the boys pick their teams. May sat on a swing waiting to be picked.

Ben: I choose John N.

Greg: I choose.......Casey P.

Ben: I choose May.

Greg: (Yelling at Ben) What! You canít! I wanted her! It wasnít your turn any ways! You have to wait your turn!

Ben: was too my turn. You chose Casey.

Greg: Well, I didnít want Casey. I was about to replace him with May. (He turned around to face May) May youíre on my team!

Narrator: Ben took Greg by the shoulder and turned him around so they were face to face.

Ben: (Yelling at Greg)You know it was my turn. I picked her fair and square! Pick someone else! (He turned towards May) You know youíre on my team. Now come back over here.

May: Well Greg, he did pick me first and yes, it was his turn to choose. You will just have to pick someone else.

Greg: (Yelling at both Ben and May) The two of you bite! It was my turn! She is on myyyy team! I donít have to put up with this! I quit! I donít want to play with you losers anymore! (Looking around trying to find someone he began to scream at the top of his lungs.) Travis! Trav - is! Where are you Travis! Travis you no good....

Narrator: With a haughty attitude Travis interrupts just before Greg completes his sentence

Travis: If I were you......I would not want to finish that statement. Now would I?

Greg: (voice quivering) No. No, No I wouldnít.

Travis: Now whatís with all the yelling? What you want with me?

Narrator: Greg replies in snobbish way, combined with a tattle tale kind of attitude.

Greg: Ben and May are cheating and..

Narrator: Travis interrupts, mocking Greg.

Travis: ďBen and May are cheating and .... andĒ And What you want me to do about? Tell the teacher!? Ha. Ha. Ha.

Narrator: Greg looked down at his feet avoiding eye contact with Travis. He then took three steps back. And when he began to talk he stumbled.

Greg: Well, Well if you are going to be that way then...

Travis: Then, Then what?

Greg: Nothing.

Narrator: In a small and quick burst of confidence blurted out, ďIíll just have to pick someone else to pick my team.Ē Then he ran off screaming, ďHeís going to kill me!Ē May Began to chuckle. Travis then turned around to look at her and gave her a dirty look.

Travis: What ere you laughing at?

May: Your ugly, big, fat, dirty face!

Travis: Did you want to get pounded into the ground or something.?

May: Yes, I think I should enjoy pounding you back into the deep dark hole you climbed out of!

Travis: Iím not going to bother with you! Besides if I hit you my fist would get stuck in all your blubber!

May: What did you say to me you ugly skunk?

Narrator: Ben sarcastically interrupts

Ben: I donít mean to intrude in your love fest, but can we just play the game?

Narrator: Ben then ran off scared the two of them would go after him. (They almost did)

Travis: I donít love her!

May: I donít love him!

Travis and May: You best watch what you say to me!!

Travis: Whose team is May on?

May: I am on Benís team.. Whatís it to you skunk boy?

Travis: Good! I wouldnít want to be an the same team as that fat *itch!

Narrator: May Raised her fist about to knock Travis out when across the play ground she heard Aaron begging and pleading for his life. She then turned around and began to look around to locate were Aaron was.

Travis: Hey, sounds like you need to go save your boyfriend! May: Bite me skunk boy!

Narrator: May located Aaron and began to run to help him. About half way there she turned around and shouted, ďIím not finished with you skunky!Ē

Act II

Narrator: May just barely made it to him in time. Just as Leon was about to hit Aaron she stepped in. Leon was not paying attention and swung. Leon hit May instead of Aaron. Frightened by his mistake he slowly stepped back.

Leon: Now May, Donít get mad. You had no rite stepping in. You werenít suppose to get the beat down. You canít hold me responsible.

May: You OK Aaron?

Aaron: Yea Iím fine. Thanks.

Narrator: Leon ran as far as the soccer field and stopped. He began to yell at May and Aaron. He had a little attitude in his voice trying to look cool to on lookers.

Leon: Hay Aaron, your body guard ainít going to be able to save you next time. Yea I whooped May good!

Narrator: The other guys just looked at Leon like he was crazy. They told him that if any one got whooped it was him.

May: Leon, what are you doing over there? Scared of me? Come say it to my face!

Leon: Iím not scared of you! I could beat you blind folded and with both hands tied behind my back!

Narrator: A few of the boys were tiered of him always boasting and they were watching his every move so they pulled his shirt over his head so he couldnít see. Then they took his belt off and tied his hands behind his back. They told him, ďWe would be happy to take you up on that bet.Ē Many of the school kids gathered around him and started to take bets. One boy began to shout, ď50 cents on May. ďItís going to be a quick fight but even if he could use his fist and could see. He would loose one way or another!Ē

Leon: Tony? What are you saying? Iím Telling mom when we get home. You are going to get into allot of trouble!

Tony: So what! Iím going to tell mom you hit a girl! Leon: What girl? I never hit any girl!

Tony: May. What do you think May is? Iím telling dad you hit a girl any ways. Ha. Ha.

May: What?

Tony: Nothing.

Narrator: The eminence crowd began to whisper, ďSheís coming. Sheís coming.Ē Just as May reached Leon the bell rang and everyone began to run in. Travis cuts in, ďHey every one, Leon Peed his pants and is crying like a girl.Ē

Tony: You are such a wimp. Canít stand up to a GIRL. What kind of man are you?

May: Skunk boy! Hey skunk boy what do you know about being a man?

Narrator: She raised her fist to him to see what he would do.

May: Ha. you flinched. Your a wimp too! Iím not finished with you any ways. You just wait until tomorrow. Donít you even dare think about calling in sick!

Narrator: Aaron and May slowly strolled back to class talking.

Aaron: You know Iím a big boy. I can take the beat down. Thanks any way. Truthfully though, Iím glad it wasnít me.

Narrator: May playfully pushed Aaron lightly.

May: I know you were. Besides that little slap would have knocked you out cold!

Aaron: NO it wouldnít have! I can take it just fine!

May: My God Aaron, you donít have to be so defensive!

Aaron: Well, you attacked me!

May: No I didnít. But If you want me to I can!

Aaron: NOOOOOO!

Narrator: Aaron ran off into the school screaming . May chased after him screaming, ďI was just kidding around. You know I would never hurt you. Aaron! Aaron are you going to tell on me? Hey were are you?Ē



THE END




The fallowing piece is an essay I wrote in creative writing.

It was the first time I had written on the subject. It was my saddist piece but my class said it was the best thing I wrote all year. 

October 3,2000

May 5th

Just past nightfall, the upstairs phone rang. My mother caring on a jovial conversation with my father in the next room slowly walked to answer it. My sister and I were in the living room watching TV and eating dinner. As always, when we did not know who called would watch and listen to the conversation, waiting for them tell us who it was. A frightened look overcame my mother so my sister and I got up to stand next to her. We would ask her what was wrong but she would just signal us to be quiet so she could hear the other person. Her breathing rapidly amplified, her face turned red as her lips began to quiver and speaking was near impossible. She robustly tried to hold back her emotions, yet she could not. As soon as she hung up the phone, she instantly fell to pieces. In so much despair and grief, she nearly dropped to her knees like a child first learning to walk. Now her face was ghost white. Tiny tears dropped rapidly down her face like a waterfall. My mother gave us hugs, just trying to cradle us like newborns. She tried to hold back the tears so she could tell us what was going on.

My uncle BJ always calls the upstairs line when he panics. That was on of those times. He had called to be the barer of ghastly news; he was the messenger of death. We were all soon informed of my grandfatherís worldly release. The impact of the news ran us all over like a bus. We dropped like flies one by one as the news of the epidemic spread. So overpowered by emotion we could not tell up from down.

My mother and sister tried to be bold and strong and I never saw my fatherís reaction. I on the other hand bawled and wailed like an animal ensnared in a bear trap. I was so grief stricken I did not know where to turn. I would fall on the floor kicking and screaming like a spoiled rotten child having a temper tantrum, rolling like pigs in a mud hole. Eventually I rose, weak and weary. Hunched over, I walked in a circle like a little puppy chasing its tail. I was a volcano, erupting and spewing every emotion possible. I would stop for a few seconds and start right back up.

Soon I found the stairs and with barely any strength left in me, I crawled up the stairs and into my room. I then climbed into bed and tried to suffocate myself by wrapping my self in my sheets. I tried to fade away and hide from everyone else. I just wanted to be alone even though I was rickety like a cold, wet, abandoned child that was scared and lost. My mother came up and brought me back down stairs. Like an old person, she had to hold me so I could walk.

She said I could not be alone at such a time. We all had to stick together, downstairs. She was afraid by the way, I broke down that I would mentally shatter. She was frightened that I would fall into a pit of despair and never come out. She was just terrified that I would become a vegetable. The idea of me becoming physiologically unhinged was my motherís worst nightmare.

The shock was so grate that if I had gone to sleep I probably would have not woken up. For my wound, there was no Band-Aid that could bind, nor was there an ointment that could heel. I was ready to leave my family and join him. My grief was stronger than my will.

My father immediately made travel plans for the next day. We could have left that night but we were in no shape and becoming organized was defiantly out of the question.

My grandfather had a wake before the actual burial. When we got there every one seemed to have it together, somewhat. As everyone walked around socializing one of my older cousins broke down. No one ever saw him cry, ever, before that day. One of my other cousins, Jonathan, asked where grandfather was and my uncle and grandmother looked at each and then looked at the open casket. They began to cry when he said that. He walked over to the coffin and peered in. He just watched him and then he looked around. He spotted our grandmother and our uncle, then this indescribable look took- over his face. I knew then that he understood.

My Father felt out of place, and I was a faucet that leaked occasionally. I was struggling to keep it together. My grief triggered an asthma attack and an anxiety attack. Then when my father left to drive around, I went with him so I could be away from it all, just for a little while.

Then at the burial, the little kids played in the plush, green, grass and newly bloomed summer flowers. They picked flowers and then were picked up so they could lay them upon the coffin. My oldest cousin cried through the whole ceremony. I had my arm around him and his was around me, even though he had not seen me for about six years. At the end of the ceremony, there was a solute, three shots fired by young soldiers, which were aligned perfectly in a row like toys. Then one of them handed a flag to my grandmother, folded eloquently and in perfect formation.

Anytime my grandfather was brought up, a hush would fall over the house. Everyone would take a deep breath that followed a solemn sigh. They were brief and uncomfortable situations. Andy and I always left they room when the occurred because we did not want any one to see our pain. By the benevolent looks, Andy and I got you got the felling that of all my grandfathersí grandchildren Andy and I took it the worst. We were chain smokers, any time one of us cried another would start until we were all smoking. Many, like me, could not bare the reality of his passing. Ever since his death, I would brake down in the mention of him in a conversation. Even to this very day if he is brought up, I will stand in complete aw. My family takes a moment of silence to remember him.

I would begin to sob for what had appeared to be no reason, but actually, something or someone that reminded me of him triggers it. For example, one time while eating dinner in a restaurant I saw a group of people walk in. The large group reminded me of my family and I began to shed tears. People just looked at me as if I were mentally deranged.

The thing that hurts the most is regret. I shied away the month before he died. It was such a vital time that I wasted. I wish I had not thrown away the opportunity to get closer to him. I knew he was dieing and that I should have spent time with him. I was just so scared of getting close to him. I did not know what to say or what to do around him. I was apprehensive that if I was emotionally involved that it would hurt more in the end. I cannot fool myself any more; I already was close to him. The oversight haunts me constantly like a stranded and lost soul. The feeling is overwhelming and it chokes my thoughts. It sits exceedingly heavy upon my heart. I suffer so much guilt and so much anguish. I do not know which one hurts the most.

The little ones were the smartest ones at the time because they played with him so carefree and clueless. They were so jovial as if he would always be there forever. I wish I had been that blind. I was a fool and in one aspect: naive. Unfortunately, it was in the wrong way.

The guilt is harsh so I make up many asinine excuses and millions of hypothetical situations. Then I play the situations repeatedly in my head. Some times, I think, if only I had a childís naive, innocents then maybe it would be different. I think sometimes, what if I was a child and he died. Would I have acted the same? Probably not, I say this after observing my little cousinsí reactions and actions, never a whimper or tear from them. Then I think maybe I would have. Perhaps they were not developed enough, with the exception of Jonathan.

The only thing I want to do now is go back in time. To once again be a sweet, innocent, loving, foolish, naive child. I always had something to say and I always wanted to play and sit in his lap. I was unbelievably attached. I never wanted to be separated.

It is still hard for me to grasp the concept of losing the only grandfather I ever knew. My mother always told me he lived a good, fulfilled life. I knew that and I still do. Even the good recollections make me weep. The thought of his absence makes my eyes tear up and my chest feel tight, my chin tremor and my stomach ach as if I had never eaten before.

My little cousins were not aware of what had happened or how things were going to be different. I on the other hand, knew everything was going to change. I knew that my grandfather would not have another February trip to Galveston. He would also not be sleeping in the car while the girls went shopping. He would not be there to watch cartoons with me in the morning either. Nor would he have arrived at my house and been there by the time I got home from school. In addition, I would never hear him bitch about my dog Maggie being the only dog that hates him. Now every time I see my grandmother I cry, for two reasons one because I am happy to see her and two because I miss him.

Three grandchildren; never showed an emotion other than playfulness were swept off there feet. I was one of them. When my great aunt died, I just shrugged my shoulders and never thought of it again. My cousin did not even cry when his great grandmother died. No emotion was shown then, yet when our grandfather died we were helpless.
 

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