The Elf Girl is not my only project of the moment....I still continue to write stories, poems, plays, essays....whatever I can manage. So I have created a section where you can view THOSE things too.
I have written 2 novels in the past, one in 3rd grade another in 4th. They were pretty bad, and I can't display them here anyway because they are handwritten. However, I am now editing my 3rd grade one "Beautiful Things", and hoping to improve it. This is what I have so far of it. NOTE: This is the edited version (that I have been working on for years) and it's not the original version I wrote at 8 years old. And it is STILL not perfect....I mean its only the second draft.
Beautiful Things
Intro/Chapter 1 Harriet, Maryann, and Fate In the Little Wood of Ugly, as it was called, there was only one house. It was a rickety house, a house you’d only imagine seeing in a cheery Laura Ingles Wilder story. No one really knew what its purpose was. It just kind of stood there like a prop…as if it was only standing to take up room. And it stayed this way for many years. Its wood began to mold and the ceiling began getting little cracks in it here and there. It was completely vacant…until a little girl named Harriet and her father came along to occupy it. They were a rather depressed duo, since the only cause of their moving was the death of a kind wife and mother. They were trying to start over in a new place…trying to make the best of an absolutely horrid situation. Harriet was only 4 years old. She was a chunky, hyper little thing who barely understood the entire ordeal with her mother’s death. This plump, rather homely looking youngster was not the most attractive. And the sad thing was…she knew it. Not when she was 4 of course. It didn’t happen ‘till 6th grade. She had been working hard for years at the house…there was no time for any lessons. But ah yes the time did come…when Harriet’s father finally decided to send her to school. When Harriet entered the building, she was greeted by snorts and gasps. Her cheeks began to flush when she noticed the laughter, and the more obnoxious children making gagging noises. Harriet helplessly attempted to shut all of it out, but unfortunately she wasn’t even close to succeeding. It was then that she had looked in the mirror, and noticed that she was terribly hideous. She had a huge noise with a horrible boil on the tip. Her eyes were a terrible shade of gray. Her hair was knotted and stringy, hanging like a greasy mat on her shoulders. Her lips were waterless and cracking. She was wearing a dull jumper, which was a mix of bright green and black. She sobbed. Out of all the kids in school, Maryann Jenkins was the worst. She was the spitting image of perfection and everyone resented her for it. Maryann had everyone under her prim, French manicured finger, and with a snap she could get anyone to obey. Kids gritted their teeth as she walked by, only to smile later on, frightened that she would torture them if they did not. And yet, Maryann had never really done anything terrible to anybody. She just had that feel about her. That don’t mess with me kind of sweetness. Her nose was a dainty little thing, without a pimple or boil in sight. Her bright eyes were a fragrant blue that were so deep you’d want to dive right into them. Her hairs were locks of favorable gold. She always wore delightful little dresses, all frilly and satin. Rich girl attire, if you will. She had a heck of a lot of elegance, a heck of a lot of charm, and a heck of a lot of cash. And because of it, she got everything she wanted. Harriet always hated her. Not only because she was so nasty towards her, but because of her wealth and beauty…and everything. It was weird…how the people who were given beauty also got money and power and friends and grace and smarts and everything else. But the people that were not so glamorous…like her…never got anything they wanted. Even though they were the ones who really needed it at all. Life was all about to change. Harriet didn’t know it, Maryann didn’t know it, and nobody did. But when Maryann bumped into Harriet in the hall one day, it seemed they suddenly saw the light. They looked at each other for a moment, intrigued. And then without warning, Maryann blurted out, “You want to come over later?” Harriet was startled…but nodded her head robotically until an awkward Maryann stumbled away, shocked at what she had done. You might say it was fate, and I always have. And just because of that invitation from Maryann, life DID change. In so many ways. When Harriet came over to Maryann’s house that day, they became immediate companions. Sharing secrets, giggling, and having fun just like ordinary buddies. And suddenly, just having Harriet around made Maryann seem a lot less scary to other children. They had been wonderful pals for almost a whole year, and were enjoying the beginning of their 7th grade. Maryann waited patiently for her friend to come over to her immense home, only to see a sobbing Harriet enter her doorway. She had been kicked out of school, abandoned because she had failed every class. Watching Harriet experience such despair, inspired Maryann to ask, “Would you like me to tutor you? I have done exceptionally well in ALL my classes!” Harriet did agree. Tutoring became an unspoken tradition between Harriet and Maryann. Every Saturday they would meet, and go over their studies together. It was a priceless and surprising friendship, one that was not easily broken. Until a shocking twist left both of the girls devastated, but closer together in the end. Chapter 2 The Fight One sunny afternoon, Maryann knocked gently on Harriet’s door and waited for her to unlock it. She heard loud clomping from stairs, and immediately realized that Harriet was finally here. Pulling down the latch for her rickety old door, and grasping a bag of potato chips, Harriet grinned at the site of Maryann. “Hello Miss Jenkins!” she joked playfully. “Sorry to keep you waiting. What are we going to learn today?” A large grin spread across Maryann’s face, almost as a response. “That’s for me to know and you to find out young lady!” she mock scolded. Harriet’s house was rather dull and poor inside, but it was cozy and snug in a way that it was easy to become comfortable. Maryann plopped herself down on the dog-eared sofa (something she was scolded for doing at home), and proceeded to give Harriet a playful look. It was the sort of gesture that meant, “Hand over the chips”. Harriet giggled and threw the bag towards her friend, who laughed in response. “Ok you chip hogger” Harriet chuckled. “Let’s start”. Harriet couldn’t help noticing how mature and structured Maryann became when she opened a textbook. There was a sudden authority to her posture, as if she was somehow stronger when she was tutoring. She was no longer Harriet’s friend, but a real teacher, stern and precise. Calling her Miss Jenkins, as Harriet had jokingly done before, was no where short of Maryann’s appearance at the moment. “Okay” Maryann said, interrupting Harriet in her thought. “Turn to page 21 in your arithmetic workbook, and let’s start at number…hmmm….you think you can do numbers 12-18? I forget whether or not we covered this type of math.” Harriet did as she was ordered, and turned to the specific page, observing it. “Yeah” she finally decided. “I think we can do this one”. Maryann leaned back and thoughtfully nibbled on a chip. It was amazing…even when gulping down chips Maryann was still precise and dainty. “Now as you can see” she said sternly. “It says to sum up the total and multiply it by nine. So the first step is 90 plus 54. You know the answer?” Harriet struggled for a moment, and said, “90 plus 54 equals 144”. “And what’s the easy way to figure that out?” Maryann prompted. “Add the tens place first, which is 9 and 5 equal 14; add a 0 at the end, then plus the 4 extra because of the ones place. So its 144” Harriet rattled off. “Impressive” Maryann said approvingly. “And now multiply that by nine” Harriet’s eyes went from being to proud, to feeling stupid. How could she forget how to do this….? She couldn’t multiply 144 by nine in her head. “I don’t know” she finally said, and Maryann gave a little sigh. “Harriet, why can’t you remember the rule? It’s to split up the parts of the number. You know 100 times 9 is 900, right? So 40 times 9 is the same as 4 times 9 with a 0 at the end…so that would be 360. So you add 360 and 900 together using kind of the same rule. With like, you know, splitting. 300 plus 900 is 1200. So plus 60…that’d be 1260. Understand?” She was out of breath by the time; she had finished her long explanation. There was something about her voice that closely resembled one of a teacher….that hint of disappointment sugar coated with a winding lecture. Harriet flushed and clumsily flipped through the math book. “Sorry” she muttered. “I…ummm…forgot”. “I see that” a bitter Maryann said. “Try not to”. Harriet turned away, trying to hide her embarrassment, but the tears were already staining her cheeks. Noticing her agony, Maryann softened her tone. “Oh Harriet I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to make you sad…I was just being strict. I know that now. I shouldn’t have been so sour…forgive me…please”. She sympathetically patted her sobbing friend’s back, when she suddenly caught sight of a jumble of colors. It took her a moment to realize: they were paintings. “What are those?” she asked, pointing and gazing towards the scattered paintings on the table. Before Harriet could even react, she made a dive and snatched them. The painting was of a girl, fair and blond- cheeks rosy and blissful. She was wearing a long fuchsia gown. It was a beautiful portrait, and in the background was a radiant sunset, shining upon the girls face. At first, she longed to ask who had painted it- probably one of those artists she didn’t care about like Picasso... but then she caught sight of the bottom. Harriet Smuggles, Dated 2008. “Girl in the Sun”. “You drew this?” Maryann asked in awe. “Yes” Harriet said slowly. Her face was burning. “But it’s really nothing…” She grabbed the papers and placed them carefully into a portfolio. The way she cared for the pictures made them seem like a baby. There was an awkward silence. Maryann concluded to bring up a fresh topic, and however friendly she was towards Harriet, topics did seem to always come back to herself. “You know” she said. “My mother wants me to go away this summer…to a famous company for these glamorous supermodels. She said I’d think it was marvelous, to meet them and all.” Harriet sighed as she went into a daydream. Modeling had always been her ambition…she’d love it. Striking dramatic poises, and fixing her expression to make the camera her own. But of course…now….with her looks and all she’d never make a modeling career. Never. Maryann would make it definitely…but not her. She expected Maryann to gush with excitement and explain how ‘glamorous’ all of it would be. Instead, Maryann sighed. “I don’t want to go”. Harriet’s face twisted into a gape of shock. “Not go? What do you mean? Maryann, why?” She was blubbering now, sputtering out tons of meaningless questions in Maryann’s face. “Because,” Maryann said simply. “I want a different job. Modeling is boring, unimportant work. I want to help people”. “Help people? What do you mean? Are you going to be a doctor?” “No!” Maryann exclaimed with a shiver. “Oh I couldn’t bare all that icky blood….no. It’s just…after tutoring you all this time, I’ve found I really like teaching stuff” “So?” “So, that’s what I want to be. A teacher” “A teacher!” Harriet almost toppled out of her chair as she gave an appalled squeal. “A teacher?” she repeated. “Oh why? Maryann, why?” Maryann’s face turned red with offense. “What, you don’t think I’m a good teacher?” “Of course I think you are. But…Maryann with all your money and power why would you give it all away to become a teacher? Nobody likes a teacher.” “I’d change that!” Maryann persisted. “I’d be a fun teacher. I’d be nice to kids…I’d make them feel good about school. I mean...I don’t know what I mean. I just want to be a teacher. It’s what I love to do”. “But Maryann!” Harriet cried. “Nobody loves to teach. Not even teachers love to teach!” An awkward silence followed her outburst, and the sticky air around them seemed to stifle their emotions. “Take it back” Maryann muttered. “Take that back now, Harriet” “Never!” “Just apologize!” Maryann screeched. “Are you so vain, that you can’t admit you’re wrong?” “I’m not wrong!” “Oh you ugly little brute…you could scare a monster! You know that? Just get away…I’m leaving! And don’t you expect to have me come back and tutor you. This house is filthy anyway!” And with that, she charged out of the shack. The slam of the door was a loud one, and metaphorically, it was the sound of a friendship breaking. Chapter 3 The Letter Harriet had a lump of regret in her throat, a kind of sadness she couldn’t quite explain. It was her 13th birthday, a day she was celebrating only with her father. The rest of her friends were long left in the past….well not too long ago. It had only been a few months since the enormous quarrel had taken place. And ever since it had, the girl she had used to call “best friend” had ignored her, teased her, and gone through every way possible to make her life a nightmare. On the day of the fight, Harriet had simply told her dad that Maryann couldn’t tutor anymore. There were no questions, no doubt, no typical parental “Honey, what happened?” Her father had just accepted the fact, and arranged for Harriet to begin school again. It took much negotiating for the board to allow such a girl to come back…yet her father loved her beyond belief and begged. “Harriet,” her father said. Harriet suddenly became aware of his presence. “Yes?” “Harriet, how come you didn’t invite that girl…what’s her name again? Maryann, I believe” “Oh I don’t know Daddy” Harriet replied lazily. “It just never came up, you know? Maryann doesn’t come to little parties like this. If I had invited her, she’d expect some kind of ball. We could never afford to please her” “She’s your best friend,” Father argued. “She’d manage, I’m sure. You really need to make an attempt at friends here, Harriet. Maryann is the only one you’ve got. And not even she came to your birthday celebration!” Without warning, the lump in Harriet’s throat became larger, as if reminding her it hadn’t gone away. It all came back to her…why she had that lump. The two girls had made a vow. The vow was simple, but priceless. A promise. The entire day came back to her. “We need some kind of bond” Maryann announced. “Something to prove we’ll always be friends”. “You mean like a handshake or something?” Harriet asked. Maryann giggled. “Yeah! And….hey I know. We’ll make a vow…let’s be together on our thirteenth birthdays. I mean, that’s when we’ll become teenagers!” The way she said teenagers made them sound like sacred angels. “Sure!” Harriet agreed. “That’d be amazing. But what if the party isn’t all that big?” “That’s fine” Maryann assured her. “That’s the point of it all. It’ll be our own little party, like a secret”. They had laughed and planned it all out, every bit of it. And now here Harriet was. Sitting at her thirteenth birthday party, and Maryann wasn’t here to enjoy it. A little voice in her mind, urged her to call Maryann and invite her. But how could she ask someone who had been so mean to her, come celebrate the one holiday her family had never failed to celebrate….her birthday. What would she say? “Hello Maryann. I know we had this humongous fight and you have made me cry every day since then, but want to come to my party?” No. Maryann wasn’t worth such an invite. The cake had become rather gritty on her tongue, and she asked to be excused from the table. “But you’ve barely eaten anything!” her father persisted. Harriet shrugged. “It’s alright, father. I’m not that hungry….I’ll just go to get the mail.” Harriet darted out of the front door, and scampered down the path to the mailbox. The Smuggles family was not at all fancy, and their mailbox was plain and brown. They never really got much mail, except bills that Mr. Smuggles had to pay, and boring newsletters he had signed up for. Sighing sadly as she thought about all this, Harriet reached into the dingy thing and yanked out the mail for the day. Bill, bill, bill, newsletter, ah another bill and…..oh my. Harriet stared at the next letter in shock. Her own name was printed in the center of the envelope in neat, precise cursive. “There must be a mistake…” Harriet muttered, and she examined the written address just to be sure. No. It was correct….there was actually a note addressed to her. But whom would send such a letter to her? Baffled beyond belief, Harriet stumbled into the house, still staring at the envelope. “Honey, is everything OK?” her father asked, eyeing her suspiciously. “There’s a letter” Harriet said. “It’s for me.” “Who’s it from?” Harriet gasped. During all of the excitement of receiving an actual letter, it had never occurred to her to see who it was from. She lifted it to glance at the return address. Maryann Jenkins “It’s a mistake!” Harriet declared. “A mistake? Now, Harriet how could it be a mistake? Let me see” His eyes grew wide as he snatched the letter from a helpless Harriet. “Sweetheart, it’s from Maryann. Why would that be a mistake?” Harriet gulped. She had not yet told her father that she and Maryann were no longer friends. How could she explain this? “ Oh no reason” Harriet giggled nervously. “I was just kidding….um…yeah” She grabbed the letter back. “I guess I’ll go upstairs to open it”. Harriet could tell that her father was far from convinced. “Kidding? I don’t understand. Why would you…?” “Bye daddy!” Harriet interrupted. And she scurried upstairs, trying to avoid her fathers puzzled stare. Flopping onto her rickety bed, Harriet excitedly ripped open the letter. It was printed on sweet scented paper that was magenta colored. Rolling her eyes at the decoration, she focused her attention on reading the letter. Dear Harriet, I am writing this 4 days before your birthday. Hopefully you will receive by then, but I can only hope. I really do wonder what day it arrives in your mailbox. Anyway, I was just thinking about this promise we made to each other, how we wanted to be together on our 13th b-days. Itthat I cordially invite you to spend next week at my home. It is my apology. We can catch up on each other and begin our friendship anew. Hopefully, you will see things my way and come to the agreement that we were both foolish. Now that we are both 13, I feel we can handle this situation responsibly. Please write me back, telling me if you’d like to come. If you don’t, then that is your loss but I feel as if this is our only chance to start over. It can be sort of a mini celebration of your birthday too, if you want. I know it’s in 4 days, even if you think I forgot. Yours truly, Maryann The shock on Harriet’s face was inevitable. She couldn’t have imagined what that envelope had contained…but certainly she’d never considered that it might be an invitation. And to Maryann’s home no less! Although Harriet had been Maryann’s best friend, she had definitely never even been allowed to go near her house (or more accurately, her mansion). Mrs. Jenkins was extremely picky about who could enter her home, and a girl such as Harriet could never hope to be on the honored list. She swallowed and stared at the cursive that stood so plainly on the lovely sheet of paper. Harriet wanted desperately to see Maryann again, to hug her, to be best friends. But one question popped into her head, and she knew she could not ignore it…was it worth it? It is she tried to convince herself. Despite all the things Maryann has done to me, she still manages to send me a letter. She still cares about me. She wants to make up. She wants to be my best friend again. I should say yes. Then everything will be as it should. But then she remembered. The broken promises, the lies, the insulting remarks- that had flown from Maryann’s mouth over the last few months. And how much it had hurt. Was it worth it? Was it worth trying, worth being friends? Or would Maryann turn around and stab her in the back again? Overwhelmed with thought, Harriet tossed the paper on the ground and lye on her bed. It’s worth it, she decided. I’m accepting my invitation. And with that, she began to write a letter.
This is a story that I am writing for a series, "The 12 Sisters of Monthomor". I might not continue it but this is what I have.
January
PROLUGE
As the delightful baby girls golden laugh rang out for the first time in Monthomor, the townspeople exclaimed with bliss at the sight of her. Queen Minna stroked her eager face with love and strong emotion. “Our first daughter” she whispered and could barely stand still as joy electrified her bones. The little one’s eyes gleamed in the morning sunlight, with their radiant sapphire color. Although her ebony locks were a huge contrast to her startling yet lovely eyes, her hair was what made her beautiful. Just the fact that she was born with such a thick mass of hair was a miracle, and that perfect dainty nose made everything come together as if it were the last piece of the puzzle. King William proudly but gently put his beefy arm around his wife. “She’s gorgeous” he gushed. “What did we do to please God in this way? To get him to give us this perfect daughter?” Queen Minna’s eyes filled with salty tears of pleasure. She couldn’t stop staring admirably at this wonderful child- the one she could truthfully call her own. “Oh William she is perfect. We couldn’t have asked for a better little girl….she’ll be the most amazing princess Monthomor has ever been in the presence of” The citizens of Monthomor cheered once again. “What shall we call her?” Queen Minna asked. “Only a magnificent name will do” The crowd was silenced. What would this adored girl be called? The name had to fit her like a glove. It had to be…….perfect. “January” the king suddenly exclaimed. “It’s the perfect name!” Queen Minna kissed her husband and smiled. “Yes!” she agreed. “The perfect name” Queen Minna faced the entire
CHAPTER 1
The frozen cotton balls that fell from the dazzling sky sparkled, as January awoke from her slumber. Her long hair was strewn across her pillow like piles of black licorice as her eyes opened with anticipation. She sat up in her lacy king size bed, eyeing her bedroom. The bright crimson paint seemed to call out to hear, splattering the walls with excitement. January stared out her window and let out a breath of fascination. The scene was gorgeous. Forgetting to change into her morning gown, January raced out of her room wearing only her fluffy red nightgown, and pink slippers. “Miss Kitty! Miss Kitty! Oh its just wonderful outside! Oh it is!” Miss Kitty, the household maid, shook her head. “January what are you doing?” she scolded. “A lady like you, now sixteen years old today, gallivanting around like some sort of savage! It’s not like you to forget yourself like that!” The princess immediately tensed up. “I’m sorry” she said, her voice monotone. “But oh Miss Kitty, I’m 16 today. I can’t imagine what is held in store for me! All kinds of adventure…” Suddenly, Queen Minna rushed into the room. Her thick mass of blonde hair was propped on her head in an elegant bun, and her eyes had “smile lines” as January always told her. “Child!” she cried joyfully. “Oh my! It seems as if our lovely Princess January has become even lovelier over night. And she’s a lady now too!” She held her precious daughter in a tight, emotional hug. When she let go, her eyes were teary. “You were my first child out of all of my twelve. Of course you know, I absolutely love all your sisters…..but dear your birth was amazing to me! Just amazing…..the crowd was dazzled by your intense beauty. You are loved by everyone, my sweet” January lit up and kissed her mother’s cheek. “I love you mother. Thank you so much for being my companion. You are my inspiration” There was a heavy, but gentle silence between them when Miss Kitty interrupted. “Well what are we all waiting for? We have so much work to do for this party! A sweet sixteen like no other!” “Oh yes!” laughed January. “And I must send a telegram to Joy! I need some help choosing my gown”
“Oh Jan” Joy whispered. Her voice was light and floaty, like a feather. “You look so beautiful” “Really?” January asked. She smiled sweetly at her smooth reflection. She had had many choices as to what gown she was going to wear. There was the white one, with its fluff and dazzling glitter. But January insisted it made her look like a giant snowflake. Then came the pink one, with its satin bow and lovely fringes. This one was a pretty good candidate, but January wanted to try the last one before making her final decision. This was obviously a remarkable choice. The gown was gorgeous. The long red satin draped over her sparkling heals like an elegant cape. The sleeves were decorated with dainty flowers, and hearts. January let out a sigh of content and turned to her best friend. “This is the one I’m wearing” she announced. “I think it compliments my figure….I mean the other ones would make me look kind of plump…” “Oh stop it!” Joy squealed. “You’re the prettiest girl of all Monthomor and you know it!” Joy was petite and delicate looking with pale porcelain doll features. Her lips were dainty and naturally ruby colored, and her cheeks were already covered with pink beauty when she was born. She was definitely one of the prettiest girls of town, but she always seemed to insist January was better at everything. Maybe its just because I’m a princess, Joy thought. Maybe she thinks she HAS to do that. “Joy, you stop. I am no prettier than you. You’re wonderful!” There was a steady silence between the two friends and Joy finally groaned. “Look, lets stop this! You’re party starts in fifteen minutes, and I hear you might be finding your soul mate tonight. I mean isn’t that tradition of Monthomor?” It was. Whenever a girl had her sixteenth birthday, she invited all the boys of the land. It was then she would decide on her soul mate, and they would marry soon after the party, maybe a couple of months later, a year at the most. January sighed and bit her lip. “I’m scared of that part” she admitted. “How can I be expected to find my soul mate if I only have one day? When I marry, I want to really love my husband. I don’t want any old guy” “But January!” Joy insisted. “Prince Gregory will be there!” Prince Gregory was everything any girl wanted. He was handsome, had a wonderful smile, and was very rich. But January was NOT any girl. She didn’t think these qualities equaled the perfect man- only a spoiled one. She saw how the girls swooned over him and how he waved and grinned like he was the best thing on earth. She scowled as he flexed his muscles making ladies faint with his “charm”. She couldn’t help gritting her teeth when he boasted about his money. In other words, she would never marry anyone like that. “So?” she retorted. “That doesn’t interest me one bit. Actually, I would rather he stayed home. He has plenty of money to count as he informs us everyday. And we wouldn’t want us to distract him with peasant parties, would we?” “Oh Jan!” Joy cried. “You are a princess, not a peasant. Imagine marrying THE Prince Gregory…..it would be so romantic….kissing him in the moonlight…..” “Prince Gregory’s lips are too chapped from making those big but fake grins all the time, to do any kissing. And I’d rather kiss a frog than him! Ugh” Joy seemed shocked. She gasped and fanned herself. “January! Turning down Gregory would be the biggest mistake of your life! I bet he asks you tonight Jan….you just have to say yes. It’s the chance of a lifetime” “Well I guess this is a mistake I’ll have to make”
January walked slowly and carefully into the parlor. “Mother, how do I look?” she questioned and twirled around in the dress. Queen Minna’s hand went straight to her heart as she gushed with pleasure. “Oh darling you look beautiful!” she exclaimed. “Oh my” breathed her younger sister April. “What a lovely dress!” “The satin really compliments you Jan” November added. “Its looks so good on you” “Thank you so much dear sisters, and mother. You all mean so much to me” She paused. “Mother, where is father?” “I’m right here” a booming cheerful voice uttered. January excitedly whirled around practically jumping into her fathers arms. The father thoughtfully smiled at her. “Look at you! All grown up and still just as beautiful!”
Here are some short stories I've written over the years...I give some info on each one. Enjoy.
Ghost Story
This one doesn't exactly have a sure title...I just kinda came up with the story.
GENRE: horror/mystery
I wrote this in summer of 2007.
The ghost was eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The strawberry jelly oozed under the white, soggy bread. The smile on the ghost’s face was pure and amused, yet still had a sense of mystery about it. I knew right then that this spirit was nothing but a child- a teenager perhaps. Someone who had died at a very young age. The ghost’s hair was thick and blonde, pulled together in a high ponytail. The pink ribbons tying it together looked new and shiny, but where would a ghost get such ribbons? They must have been there when the child died- preserved and untouched from the harms of the world. Her clothes looked as if they were recently washed and ironed. Fresh, denim jeans with beautiful embroidery and tiny impossible stitches. A plain white t-shirt with the words “Princess” written across the front. Worn, but loved sneakers decorated with hearts and permanent pink and purple marker. A typical girl. Except for the fact she was almost completely transparent. I met her the first day we moved. The first time we entered the eerie, old house that had stood for hundreds of years. With the lopsided roof, almost completely caved in from the weight of mold and decay. Why we had chosen such a mess of a house, I would never understand. But my parents had always liked this type of house. Old and dreary. Perfect for their occupations. My mother was a horror writer. The most famous one at the time, actually. She was known for her gothic, bloody young adult novels that made even the bravest person cringe with fright. “This house is absolutely bursting with ideas!” my mother had gushed, admiring the cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. “Imagine it, Emma! A suspenseful novel….taking place in this very house! It’ll be the next best seller of the year!” I had nodded and moved on. My mother was always giddy with delight when she discovered a new idea. My father was a scientist. He was serious and formal; he never laughed much. We knew he loved us, even if he didn’t laugh. He was kind, but mostly dedicated to his work. His studies and experiments fascinated him. EVERYTHING fascinated him; the trees, the earth, aliens, everything you could dream of fascinated him. And when he wanted to figure out what was the truth, he would. With no doubt. He would find a way. He was good like that. Never giving up. And teaching his child to do the very same. He loved the house not for its scary features, but because of the basement down stairs. It was perfect for calculating equations, mixing chemicals, and everything else a scientist had to do. “Look at this Emma!” he exclaimed, running his hand down the metal door of the basement. “It’s humongous! I can do anything here! I’ll be the best scientist ever!” He kissed my head and nodded, continuing to chatter away about how to basement would benefit the family. I didn’t care for the house. I thought it was dull and ugly. I thought it was dusty and dirty. I thought that my parents were wrong to choose it, over all the other clean, stunning houses they could have purchased. But when I fought, they fought harder. Unfortunately I had no rights. I had no say in what would happen. I was a kid. Just like the ghost. The realtor for the home was creepy. She grinned the entire time, even when she informed us, that past families living in the house had experienced cockroach problems. My parents laughed, even my father, thinking it was some kind of joke. “No” she answered, still with the creepy grin pasted on her face. “I’m serious. Watch out! And be prepared to call an exterminator. Many people have called to complain about this. So we’re warning you” We exchanged a look of confusion, then disgust, then went back to smiling. “She’s kidding” my mother whispered. I knew she wasn’t. The realtor led us through the rest of the house, carefully observing every move we made. She was so scary. Her overly happy voice made me shiver. Her eyes were sliver and magical looking- frightening. My father continued to tell me what a joker she was, but I knew if my father was laughing he must have been just as scared as I was. The ghost was in my room. She wasn’t eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich the first time- or maybe she was. I couldn’t see her, so I really wouldn’t know. But when I walked up to the room the first time I sensed her presence. The room was cold, too cold. And quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Suddenly, the room started to almost spin. I got the chills and a whisk of wind caused some items to clatter the ground. I tried to close the window since it must have been open, but was knocked onto the carpet. But none of that was the scary part. The scary part was when a clear, light, girls laugh rang out and echoed through the room. I sat on the floor, devastated and startled. My heart seemed to leap up from my chest to my throat, making it harder to breath. A laugh. A single laugh had formed a complete mystery. A puzzle that I had a strong urge to solve. My first instinct was to look around the scene. Try to come up with other possibilities. Maybe it wasn’t a laugh, but the wind scraping a tree branch. The thought seemed to calm me down a bit. Yes. That must be it. I was imagining it all. Such a house could give you frightening thoughts, and exaggerate your surroundings. Of course. And the window. That could have been the source of the wind. I remembered that I had yet to close the window. I looked up to do it, but surprisingly the window was completely locked and closed. “So honey, how do you like it?” my mother asked shoveling a spoonful of stew into her mouth. “It’s fine” I answered simply. I stared down at my food. Should I tell her what had happened? I decided on no. She would think I was crazy. Maybe even a chicken. A little wind and all of a sudden I was terrified. “I will surely get some experiments done tonight” my father announced at dinner. “That basement is perfect!” Perfect, perfect, perfect. They had been using that word all night. What was so perfect about this house? It was hideous and dirty. And maybe even haunted. Perfect- NOT. The night was silent and purely dark. I hated this bed. Every time I turned the bed would creak loudly, disturbing the whole house. The bed was an unsightly mix of brown and gray. The sheets had holes in them from past use, and the pillows were scratchy, like spiders running up and down your face. There was no light switch in the room, just a single, tall lamp that hovered above you in the darkness making terrifying shadows. The entire room was a horrible, scary scene. And nothing like, my popish, girly room back in my old house. I desperately wanted a pretty, lacey comforter. I wanted to feel my soft, cottony pillow on my cheek. I wanted a normal light switch that made no figures on the wall whatsoever. But all my wishes were wasted. This was my room, although it didn’t feel anything like me. The ghost came again that night. Another whoosh of wind flew through the house like a wild tornado. I dug my fingernails into the ratty sheet and clung to it with my eyes wide open. Again, I did not see her but I heard her laughing. Giggling sweetly in the background clairas the wind swirled around me in a rush. I still gripped the sheet, as if I let go I’d fall. Fall down, down, down into….well I didn’t exactly know what. All I knew was that I could not let go. The noise was hurting my ears. Swirling wind, laughing, things falling to the ground. All too much to comprehend. “Stop” I whispered. The chaos went on for a few more seconds, and then drifted into the distance. The next morning was still just as dark as night. No bright sunshine streamed into the room, running its long rays like fingers across my face. Just a dark, dreary cloud came across the sky. “Emma!” my mother called. “Emma, you have to go to school!” I leaped out of bed and wiped my perspired face my worn out sheet. It was so hot in the room now that I practically melted onto the floor. I looked in the mirror, observing a rather large pimple that had not been there last night. Stumbling over some astray items, I left my room looking more confident than I felt. Lunch was lonely, until a rather quiet girl approached my table, and hesitantly set herself down in the seat. Forcing a polite smile onto her face she extended her hand. “My name is Christy” she said. “What’s yours?” I sighed. “Emma” I answered. I tried to act uninterested. Maybe then she’d realize I didn’t need any “friends” pretending to like me, when they all felt sorry for me. “Cool” Christy said, as if it sounded anything but cool. “So I hear you’re new. Where do you live now?” “ Suddenly, a dramatic change came across Christy’s face. Her usually bright happy face turned absolutely pale, and her lips became dry and chapped. She stopped sipping her milk and observed my face, her eyes narrowed and her mouth pinched. She shuddered and stared in shock. “ After that conversation I had one thought in my mind: Christy was not sane. Something was wrong with her. Or maybe she made Melanie up to scare me. But….she had been crying so hard. Be good to her, she had said. Oh Emma be good to her. But how could you be good to someone who didn’t exist? It was the night I finally saw her. I had taken a scorching hot bath, and was now comfortably placed in plaid pajamas. Then, it happened. I had entered the room, yawning and sleepy when I suddenly felt the cold wind, that had always warned me of Melanie’s presence. I squeezed my eyes shut, desperately trying to ignore it. But Melanie continued to taunt me. I was thrown into a corner. “Ouch!” My leg was bleeding from smacking against the wall. Tears ran down my cheeks as I helplessly tried to get up. “Leave me alone!” I cried. “Leave me alone!” Suddenly a wind that seemed to whoosh in through a rainbow appeared, and transformed into the very girl Christy had described. She had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in her hand. Melanie stared at me in shock. She looked as frightened as I was, peering at me through horrified eyes. “Who are you?” she shouted. “What are you doing in my room?” I swallowed. I would have to explain things calmly and gently. Maybe I could get on her good side. But how could you get on the good side of a ghost? A ghost. I was talking to a ghost. “My name is Emma” I managed to sputter. “I live here” Melanie’s eyes pulsed with rage. She advanced toward me, the peanut butter and jelly sandwich, soggy and dripping in her hand. “No you don’t!” she screeched, still terrified. “I live here! I’ve always lived here. What do you want? Please don’t kill me!” I sighed with somewhat relief. Obviously she was scared of me. But why? Wasn’t she the ghost here? Realization came to me. Maybe, just maybe, Melanie didn’t know she was a ghost. “Melanie you can’t die” I answered gently. “You’re already dead” Melanie stared at me in horror and flung her sandwich across the room. “How do you know my name?! And I am not dead! Why would I be dead? You’re a lunatic! Get away! Please. Please don’t hurt me” She seemed to be silently praying, her hands dripping with sweat as if they were faucets, leaking water and flooding cities. But the sweat was evaporating, because she was transparent. She really had no idea she was dead! “Melanie you died in a car crash. You’re parents moved…they loved you a lot though. Its time for you to rest” “No!” she cried. “I’m not dead! There was no car crash! Get out of my life” “You have no life” I said, simply. “You died at age 13” “No!” Melanie glanced in shock at her room…..or her used to be room. Tears sprouted in her eyes. “I’m dead” she whispered. “I’m….dead” She turned to see her bed lying in the center of the room, the covers strewn onto the floor from when she entered. “It can’t be true” she whispered, her voice so faint I could barely hear her. “No. No. No” I felt a pang of sympathy for this girl….or ghost. She had lost her family and her life almost eight years ago and she was just realizing it now. She hadn’t been haunting me…she’d only been a poor soul. Trying to understand why nobody she knew remained in her own home. Looking helplessly overhead while another family took over all that she knew. “How do you know?” she demanded. “How….how do you know I am dead?” “Christy told me” I answered. Melanie looked even more puzzled than before, and angry as well. She gave me a confused glance. “Christy? That adorable girl I baby-sit for? Why would she tell you such a thing?!” I sighed. “Christy is not a little girl anymore, Melanie. She’s thirteen now. She told me about your death…that took place eight years ago” “Eight years ago?” Melanie’s face twisted into surprise. “But…Christy…she was…” “I know” I told her. “I know its hard. But Melanie it really is time for you to rest” Melanie tried to wipe tears from her eyes, but surprisingly her hand went right through her face. “You’re right!” she cried. “Oh my…how did I not see it before?” She was sobbing now, still trying to touch things and screaming when her hands went right through them. I stared at her, a blank look on my face. I was so sad for her, although I still carried no viewable signs of this emotion. “How do I rest?” she asked. “How?” I thought hard, my face tightening. Then, with a jolt I realized I had read a book on ghosts a couple of years back. I knew what to do. “Ghosts are floating spirits, who missed doing something in their lifetime that they have to make up for. Melanie is there something you did before you died? That maybe you have to complete or make up for?” Melanie sighed. “I do remember something….before I left….I told my parents that I hated them. They didn’t want me going to this party but I really wanted to go. One of my friend’s sisters was driving. She was only fifteen….and I don’t remember anymore. But I recall saying I hated them and then rushing out” “That’s it!” I cried. “Melanie you have to apologize to your parents” “How?” she groaned. “I don’t know where they are!” She began weeping again. “Please” I said. “Stop crying. Maybe if you just scream it into the air, it’ll mean something” Melanie took a deep breath and screamed in an airy voice, “Mom and Dad I am so sorry. I miss you so much and….I love you. Even though I’m…” She swallowed back tears. “Dead” The word seemed heavy, like a boulder on her tongue. But immediately after she said it, she was whisked away calling as she went, “Emma thank you!” I never saw her again. Even though Melanie never came to “visit” anymore, I still recall her laughter. Her voice when it was shaking with fear, and confusion. Her appearance had also stayed in my mind. Melanie was probably a wonderful person, and I feel good about what I did. I now do not fear ghosts, because I know that they are only confused, lost souls. Whenever I feel sad, I relive that moment. And I think to myself, “I put a ghost to rest”. Then with a faint, secret smile I continue the day, knowing that somewhere Melanie is happy and will soon be meeting her family in the wonderful place she is at.
The moment I saw Victoria Kenton I knew she wasn’t normal. All she ever wore was black. Everything about her was black- except her skin. She had pale chalky white skin that looked as if the sun had never hit it. When she spoke her voice was sharp, but rusty as if it had not been used in hundreds of years. And her lips. Those blood red lips, which seemed so hungry and thirsty. Putting all of these things together, you can see she was a very strange (and scary) person. Yet, I liked her. I admit it. She was mysterious- and that was the kind of girl I liked. It was only a matter of time before I changed my mind.
I felt her cold hand on my shoulder and shivers went down my spine. I looked up. There she was. “Do you need some help?” she asked. I nodded, dumbstruck, and she knelt down and helped me collect my books. “Name?” she asked me briefly as she stood up. It took me a moment to realize that she was talking to me. “Oh!” I answered. “Jake. Jake Matthews” She nodded and looked me up and down as if inspecting me. Then she scribbled something onto a piece of scrap paper.
That afternoon, a couple of kids told me the story of the house down the street. “A long time ago, probably sometime in the 1800’s a girl lived in that house with her family. One night she was sleeping soundly when a vampire broke into her house and bit her. The girl became a vampire. She hated it. She didn’t want to kill or be a monster- but she was too hungry to hold back. She bit her whole family and soon they were all vampires as well. There are hundreds of them in there now and that girl is their queen!” “I don’t believe it!” I told them. The kids gave me a smirk. “Oh yeah? Why don’t you go in then?” I gulped. I didn’t believe them. I really didn’t, but for some reason I had a weird feeling it wasn’t a good idea to go into that house. However, those kids were intimidating. “I can do it!” I boasted trying my best to sound sure of myself. Hesitantly, I walked up to the door. Did I really want to do this? I bit my lower lip. Yes, I forced the thought into my mind. I really want to do this. I opened the door. CREAK! I jumped. I glanced back. Those kids were already laughing at me. It’s not worth it, I decided. I was about to give up on it when I saw
I had told the kids I would explore the whole house. No, I thought. No. I’m not doing it. I can’t do it. I’m a chicken. I can’t take it. I went to open the door- and gasped. It didn’t budge, it was locked. I banged it, I screamed, I sobbed, but it was locked. Nothing could change that. Now what? I uttered a forced laugh. Now what? Such a question. The only question I had no answer for. Well, I thought grimly. I’m here I might as well look around. I sighed and plodded down the dark, never ending hall.
Maze. That is the word that came to my head as I trotted through the eerie house. So many ways to go, a never- ending hallway. This is so stupid, I thought. I get caught in an old mansion said to be swarming with bloodthirsty vampires and I’m exploring. I’m so dumb, so stupid! I should be trying to get out of here! I should be calling for help. I started to cry again. The door was right there! Now I don’t know where I am or how to get out of here! I’m lost. It’s hopeless. I turned around. BANG! My head hit cold stone. A door. What luck! A door that could take me anywhere! My shaking, clammy hand clasped on to the doorknob. I yanked it open. Stairs. A winding staircase was before me. I gently set my foot on a stair. CREAK! I jumped. Chicken, I scolded myself. Those Kids were right! I sighed and quietly made my way up the stairs.
Brightness startled me as I came to the top of the stairs. Torches hung against the wall blazing with fire. Ah, light. It felt welcoming and it warmed the icy air. But there was something up here that wasn’t comforting- the silence. It was so still, so abandoned. My shoes disturbed the silence as they slapped against the floor. I gulped. What kind of a mess did I get myself in now? I heard a moan. “Hello?” I timidly looked around. More groaning. A rustle. “Hello?” I felt a pang of fright and panic and my heart seemed to drop to my knees. Then a dark shadow loomed over me. I screamed.
I felt the vampire’s teeth sink into my neck. Why was I doing this? I didn’t know. It was step three of the process. I had already done step two and it wasn’t pleasant. The pain was immense. Suddenly, the vampire stopped. I felt weak and my joints ached.
I have been here ever since then. I am a vampire now. I hunt at night. I hear we may be moving into
THE END
BY: Shannon
I have many poems I have written.
Bobby’s Fashion Statement
As Bobby walked through the hallway
The kids all gaped in awe
“Wow!” shouted Amber Smith
“Oh my gosh!” added Kate McGraw
“That’s gross!” squealed Jennifer Sol
“That’s weird!” screamed Johnny Prize
All the boys were laughing
The girls covered their eyes
“How could you do it?” asked Danny Mink
“Aren’t you embarrassed?” asked Marty Jame
“What’s your problem?” said Jacob Johnson
“Did you think it’d bring you fame?”
Katie quickly whispered to her friend, “Ain’t that rare?”
As Bobby proudly walked through the halls
Wearing just his underwear
EXCELLENCE
Excellence is pure
Golden and prideful
Fascinating, Wonderful
Stunning and mindful
Excellence is working hard
Tending things with heed
Daring to try your best
Willing to succeed
Excellence is being kind
Even when the world is not
Excellence is appreciating
The small things in life people don’t spot
Excellence is being worthy enough
To soar into the stars
Excellence is thinking positive
Searching for answers near and far
Never giving up and staying strong
Being independent all day long
Excellence is to be a bird
Flying beautifully through the night
Excellence is looking within your self
Overcoming all your frights
Excellence is looking upon things
Not just dealing, but fixing strife
Excellence then is not just a word
It’s a lesson and a way of life
*Written November 2007*
An Interesting Meal Marching into battle My potatoes are farmers Trying to herd cattle My peas are students Sitting in school And the teacher that they learn from Is a carrot! How cool! My tomato is a princess That’s a bit overweight My asparagus is a man that’s running ‘Cause he’s very late My fries are super heros They always do good deeds I use my pool of ketchup For when they get hurt and bleed My meat is a doggie Running in the sand My cheese is all these people In a marching band I know it may seem vulgar I know it may seem rude But isn’t it just great fun When you play with your food?
My string beans are warriors
Pleas of The Earth
Do not contaminate my seas
Plant new flowers
Plant new trees
Don’t cover my grounds with tons of waste
So the trees can breathe, the flowers taste
Let the animals keep their homes
Where for their whole lives, they’ve happily roamed
The trees are important, they need to be there
So please don’t chop them down
They belong everywhere
Don’t flood my sky with wads of smoke
Chemicals make me gasp and choke
Please try not to waste the abundant resources
I generously provide
Usually at great forces
Re-use the things I try to give
So we don’t run out, and you can happily live
Try not to drive everywhere you go
For the gasses cars release
May give me quite a blow
You may not care about all of my pleas
Yet you may not know: this isn’t just for me
It’s for everyone here
Living on my soil
Their health may suffer
If this earth you do spoil
Runny noises could occur
Coughing and more
Red, teary eyes
And headaches galore
So remember next time
You trash my golden sands
Next time you contaminate my pretty lands
Next time you smoke, or put things in the air
That don’t really belong, that shouldn’t be there
It doesn’t matter what time, or day of the week
Just sit right back down, with no distractions
And….
THINK
*Written January of 2008*
The Gift of the
A rapidly flowing center of life
A calming sensation and cleanser of strife
A long path of radiance going strong for miles
From this beauty Egyptians drank
By this lovely riverbank
Its waters made their soils grand
This river guides them like a beckoning hand
They treasure the papyrus
That grows by the side
They thrive on the flooding
That guides them to find
Healthy crops and abundant resources
As this river of life
Flows its daily courses
They thank it and praise it all of the while
Why, it is none other than the gift of the Nile
Time Time is something that flies Like a leaf in the wind Don’t know what’s gonna happen ‘Till it’s right around the bend As the hands on a clock Tick with no heed Life goes on People do good deeds It’s a confusing thing Day after day To watch the hands on a clock sway and sway And while the hands go around Again and again People hold hands And make new friends And yet time’s not forgiving Its won’t stop or end