It was a Friday night and me and my cousin Shedonna were in my room with the music blasting. I was on the phone with a friend, looking in my closet for something to wear. While my cousin put on her clothes, we were ecstatic because it was Friday, and that meant it was teen night at the roller gardens. When suddenly my mom clicked in. That was unusual. I knew she was at work. So I clicked over, “Hello mommy”.
“ Kyia I need you to come to the hospital you can’t go skating”.
I was up upset, so I asked “ Why?”
“Your dads been shot and it looks bad”.
My whole world froze, and I couldn’t hear anything. All I could hear was your dads been shot, over and over again like a bad dream. Like time stopped and I was the only one in motion. Tears fell off my face, like bombs falling out of a helicopter at war. BOOM! BOOM! One on my shirt and the rest on my heart. My hollers of screams, like a whale trying to be heard in polluted water. My cousin’s strong embrace like she could feel my pain. Feel my pain pouring out of my eyes and into her heart.
Before I knew it, my mom walks in my room. We look at each other with sadness and fire in each others eyes. She grabs me and holds me close, we hold hands walking to the car. We know when we get there everything is going to change. Like from sunshine to a thunderstorm, I’m in the car and all I see is the street lights trough my tears.
We arrive at HCMC faster then I thought!! We walk in, the sound of my visitors pass being ripped from the paper. Rip through my stomach like a jagged knife. My walk to the elevator seems like my walk to hell. We at his room, I see the white board “ Lenfield Kendrick Jr. gun shot victim”.
VICTIM!!! Makes my flame up like gasoline on a grill.
I see him with tubes everywhere, my legs get weak, my throats getting dry, and my heads spinning. I can’t take it, I holler like I’m a wounded whale this time dying from the polluted icky murky water. His eyes open slightly, before I can say “Hi”.
My mom pulls me in the bathroom. Wipes my eyes and tells me I’m his golden girl, his miracle baby, and I have to be strong for him. I wipe my face once more, look in the mirror all I see is his face. Not really his face but him lying in that bed, I feel like it’s me looking back at him. This made me feel like we were connected, stronger. So strong I could feel his wounds. Not like I was shot but in my heart, my spirit, and my soul.
He opens his eyes and cracks a sick, but easing and wonderful smile. That soothes my on going fire. Opens his lips and says, “Hey mommy I been waiting on you all day”. I walk to hug him, his arms feel like a big flesh warm blanket of security. My tears dry up like the Sahara desert. My screams turn to weeps, then to soft sniffles. Like a baby whale is being born in clear, cool, deep claiming water. Being held for warmth by its mama. Lying on his chest. I felt like I was just swimming. Swimming deep in my hospital dad’s arms.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Hope - By Muhammad Khalid
Hope is one of the feelings that many people in my country rise up with, they rise with the hope that one day our country will be free of chaos, it will develop and flourish. The government will become better and that we will be freed from being under the banner of terrorism. The people would be caring and nice and that the rich will help the poor. The government won’t go killing people around and instead it will help the people to live a better life. Hope isn’t a normal feeling for my people it’s a piece of their lives, upon it is that they spend there days and upon it they continue to live their lives. I hope that one day when I return to my country I will find peace there, may God make that true.
The River
It was a hot summer day. The sun was baking people as if we were cookies. I was visiting my aunt one Saturday and we decided to go swimming in the Saint Croix River. So we packed up some snacks and headed out. When we got there we were going to ride in her boat. When we got to our destination we suited up and got ready to swim. I had a feeling in my gut that didn’t want me to go out so far. I didn’t listen to it. I was a decent swimmer and saw that the current wasn’t that strong. I swam out and was having a good time. Then I was curios, and wondered if I could touch the bottom of were I was swimming. So I headed down not realizing that nobody was paying attention to what I was doing. So I went deeper and deeper. Since I was very young I had a sense of adventure. I felt as if I was discovering a new world. I finally touched the bottom and had a sense of pride, which would soon become fear.
I decided that I have had enough fun and started to go back, to the surface. Then something stopped me. I couldn’t see what was holding me back. I feel around to see what was holding me back. I finally find what was holding me back. It was my necklace. It had gotten tangled up with a stick that was engraved deep under the sand. My body instantly was filled with fear. I tried to pull out the stick from under the sand. I thrashed and twirled but the stick wouldn’t budge. I was running out of air in my lungs. I couldn’t feel them start to shrivel into a raisin. I started to feel lighted. And with the last amount of energy I tried to break the stick. A lot of adrenaline was kicking into my body. The power coursed through my arms. I used power I didn’t even know I had. And finally the stick broke. I felt like fainting. My arms were exhausted. I let myself float up to the surface, where my lungs awaited to be relived.
I decided that I have had enough fun and started to go back, to the surface. Then something stopped me. I couldn’t see what was holding me back. I feel around to see what was holding me back. I finally find what was holding me back. It was my necklace. It had gotten tangled up with a stick that was engraved deep under the sand. My body instantly was filled with fear. I tried to pull out the stick from under the sand. I thrashed and twirled but the stick wouldn’t budge. I was running out of air in my lungs. I couldn’t feel them start to shrivel into a raisin. I started to feel lighted. And with the last amount of energy I tried to break the stick. A lot of adrenaline was kicking into my body. The power coursed through my arms. I used power I didn’t even know I had. And finally the stick broke. I felt like fainting. My arms were exhausted. I let myself float up to the surface, where my lungs awaited to be relived.
Go-kart - - this author wishes to remain anonymous
In the month of July in 2008, my friends Dustin Smeth, Jason penny, Ron cross, and I attempted to make a go-kart. It all started when Dustin came to my house with an idea, he stated that he wanted to build something this summer. “Like what?” I asked. “I found out how to make a go-kart” he said. When he finally convinced me to help, I gathered tools while got more people to help. Within a week, we had very few supplies, so we started going to garage sales and looking for free stuff. When we went, we found a steering mechanism, duct tape, and a wooden entertainment center. A week later, we found an old stroller and tried to break the wheels off. When they wouldn’t come off, we rode it down the hill on 3rd street and they broke off when Dustin ran into the stop sign. We never finished it.
Emily's Story - - by Norhan Mohamed, 10th Grade
Her name was Emily. When she was twenty she experienced abnormal activity in the house she lived in. When she was twenty-one she moved in with a boyfriend, four months later she killed him. This is Emily’s story.
When Emily was a child she always experienced abnormal things happening to her. She went to church to talk to someone who might know something. They told her it was some sort of evil spirit. They also had no explanation of why it chose her. When she goes to bed at night, she can feel something breathing on her but nothing or no one is there. She can hear someone whispering unclear things. Emily and her parents thought that maybe with time it would leave, but learned otherwise when they decided to go talk to a specialist.
The specialist told them that these spirits don’t leave. He also mentioned that trying to talk to them would piss them off and that’s not a good thing. The man told them they’re good unless they’re being messed with or being told to leave. He also warned Emily and her parents that trying to make it leave will only make things worse and have a very bad outcome—death.
Emily and her family didn’t talk to the spirit like they were told to. She was absolutely fine for a good seventeen years. As she got older she could barely tell that it was even there. Things were looking good for Emily. When Emily felt like it was time to move out, she found an apartment and moved in with her boyfriend Mike. Emily had been seeing Mike for about a year. They really loved each other, everyone could see it. Emily told Mike about the evil spirit and her childhood. He understood but still insisted on moving in with her. She loved that.
The second night after they moved in is when the abnormal activity began again. She woke up in the middle of the night completely out of breath. She woke Mike up; when he heard her panting he was startled. He turned the light on and asked her what’s wrong. All she said was, “it was talking to me…” Mike looked confused but when he figured out what she was talking about his eyes got big. “What did it say?” Mike asked. “I don’t really know—“ She replied. They both looked at each other and then they and then suggested that they go back to sleep, but with the lights on. So that’s what they did.
In the morning, they both agreed that if it got worse they’d call a specialist. Mike also came up with an idea to set up a high-tech sound recorder in the bedroom at night. Emily told him it might anger the spirit but he did what he wanted to do. They went to work and when they came home they were dead tired. So he set up the recorder and they went to sleep. He also set up a mini camera in the room just to see what would happen. Emily didn’t hear or feel anything that night, but when Mike reviewed the tape he was amazed by what he saw. The door closed and opened all by itself.
The following night they were startled when they heard the bedroom door slam shut. She slept with the lights on that night. In the morning they called the specialist, he came and hour later. Right when he walked in he told her he could feel the spirit, and that it was unhappy that he was present. He told them that they were doing good that they didn’t communicate to it and that Mike’s idea about getting a Ouija board was out of the question. Mike wouldn’t listen though. After the specialist left Emily told him he wasn’t allowed to bring it in the house, he lied and said he wouldn’t. When she went to school the next day he went and bought one. He set it up on the coffee table in the center of the room. He asked the board “is there a spirit here?” Without even touching the board the piece started moving and then there were huge monsoons in the room. Then the board started on fire. Mike stood back breathless and frightened. When everything cooled down he went over to the board and picked it up without hesitation. On the board a name was scratched on—ROSALIE.
When Emily was a child she always experienced abnormal things happening to her. She went to church to talk to someone who might know something. They told her it was some sort of evil spirit. They also had no explanation of why it chose her. When she goes to bed at night, she can feel something breathing on her but nothing or no one is there. She can hear someone whispering unclear things. Emily and her parents thought that maybe with time it would leave, but learned otherwise when they decided to go talk to a specialist.
The specialist told them that these spirits don’t leave. He also mentioned that trying to talk to them would piss them off and that’s not a good thing. The man told them they’re good unless they’re being messed with or being told to leave. He also warned Emily and her parents that trying to make it leave will only make things worse and have a very bad outcome—death.
Emily and her family didn’t talk to the spirit like they were told to. She was absolutely fine for a good seventeen years. As she got older she could barely tell that it was even there. Things were looking good for Emily. When Emily felt like it was time to move out, she found an apartment and moved in with her boyfriend Mike. Emily had been seeing Mike for about a year. They really loved each other, everyone could see it. Emily told Mike about the evil spirit and her childhood. He understood but still insisted on moving in with her. She loved that.
The second night after they moved in is when the abnormal activity began again. She woke up in the middle of the night completely out of breath. She woke Mike up; when he heard her panting he was startled. He turned the light on and asked her what’s wrong. All she said was, “it was talking to me…” Mike looked confused but when he figured out what she was talking about his eyes got big. “What did it say?” Mike asked. “I don’t really know—“ She replied. They both looked at each other and then they and then suggested that they go back to sleep, but with the lights on. So that’s what they did.
In the morning, they both agreed that if it got worse they’d call a specialist. Mike also came up with an idea to set up a high-tech sound recorder in the bedroom at night. Emily told him it might anger the spirit but he did what he wanted to do. They went to work and when they came home they were dead tired. So he set up the recorder and they went to sleep. He also set up a mini camera in the room just to see what would happen. Emily didn’t hear or feel anything that night, but when Mike reviewed the tape he was amazed by what he saw. The door closed and opened all by itself.
The following night they were startled when they heard the bedroom door slam shut. She slept with the lights on that night. In the morning they called the specialist, he came and hour later. Right when he walked in he told her he could feel the spirit, and that it was unhappy that he was present. He told them that they were doing good that they didn’t communicate to it and that Mike’s idea about getting a Ouija board was out of the question. Mike wouldn’t listen though. After the specialist left Emily told him he wasn’t allowed to bring it in the house, he lied and said he wouldn’t. When she went to school the next day he went and bought one. He set it up on the coffee table in the center of the room. He asked the board “is there a spirit here?” Without even touching the board the piece started moving and then there were huge monsoons in the room. Then the board started on fire. Mike stood back breathless and frightened. When everything cooled down he went over to the board and picked it up without hesitation. On the board a name was scratched on—ROSALIE.
I Don’t Regret It Much At All - - By: Ellen Knealing 10th grade
Derek had once loved that man’s eyes; those deep, clear, azure pools that drilled into you more and more as you stared at them, and as they stared at you. But he found he liked them better then, with less shine in them as the stared at him lifelessly from the kitchen floor. Derek had also once loved the fascinatingly pale skin of that man. He had been enthralled at the sight of it stretched over what were probably perfect muscles, and perfect bones. Yet he found that he liked that skin better as ghostly pale and gray-tinted as it was then, and as covered in crimson rivers as it was at that moment. Yes, while Derek had once loved that man as he lived, he found that he enjoyed him much more when he lay dead at his feet.
“I got you what you asked for,” A voice said from the kitchen doorway. “Do you like it, Derek?” Derek remained silent for a moment, staring at the body on the floor. The murder had been brutal, obviously, but the look of death suited Arthur, and Derek found himself smiling as he turned around.
“You didn’t have to be so violent,” he said softly. “But I really do like it. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now pay up.” Derek pulled his wallet from his pocket, thinking about the scene he was playing a part in. A couple of days ago, a scene like this could only cross his mind if he were reading it, or watching it on TV. Who’d have thought he would ever pay someone to kill his best friend? The two were closer then two peas in a pod. Why would he ever do something like that?
Because Arthur had struck first, that’s why. At first, it wasn’t that big of a deal, with Arthur bringing over a few drinks from his parents’ liquor cabinet to try. Lots of teenagers did, right? But Arthur had gone a bit too far, drinking too much as the days went by.
“Here,” Derek said. “I hope you were careful, because I’m going to have to call the cops.” He handed the money to the other man, who shrugged.
“I’ve never gotten caught before.” Without another word, he left Derek alone in his kitchen. Derek turned around to stare at Arthur again, and then forced himself to fall over and emit a loud scream.
“Help! Somebody call 9-1-1!” Almost the very same words had passed through Derek’s lips a few days ago, as Arthur had been completely intoxicated and had barged into his apartment. He had been violent, and he had left Derek bruised and in pain. He didn’t tell anyone though, and allowed himself to sit in pain those few days. He was still in pain as he sat on the floor, pretending to tremble and shedding fake tears for the man who had hurt him so badly.
The instant the yell had left his lips, the door to his apartment had flown open, and Derek’s intrusive neighbor had raced inside. Once she saw the two boys on the floor, she let out a scream louder then Derek’s had been.
“Derek! Oh my god!” Derek scrambled to his feet and threw himself at her, ‘sobbing’ into her chest.
“I…I just got home from school, a-and when I came in here…I…he…”
“Derek, sweetie, calm down. I’ll call the cops. Just come sit with me until your parents get here, alright?” He nodded, following his neighbor into her apartment and sitting with her on her hideous floral couch.
“Derek, dear…” He looked up at his neighbor, the tears he didn’t mean slowing to a halt. “How did that boy get into his apartment?”
“I…I dunno…I mean Arthur is…was…my best friend.” His neighbor nodded, looking away from Derek. “He might’ve taken a key from me, or my parents might’ve given him one…”
“Why would your parents give him a key?”
“He’s over a lot, and we find him waiting outside the apartment all the time. And we…trust him…” The words almost refused to leave Derek’s lips. After all that had happened a few days ago, he couldn’t honestly say he trusted Arthur, especially after talking to him about it that next day at school. Derek had thought that his actions were due to the alcohol, and only the alcohol, but…he had been wrong. And what Arthur had told him that day was what prompted Derek to get rid of him.
“To be honest,” Arthur had said. “I…I don’t regret it as much as I should. In fact, I don’t regret it much at all.” Then he had smiled and left, leaving Derek alone in the library, horrified.
“Derek, honey…” Derek looked up at his neighbor and found that his vision was blurred for real.
“I…I’m sorry,” he mumbled, wiping at his eyes. The tears continued to fall, however, and suddenly, he felt so pathetic… “I just…” his neighbor pulled him into her arms, and he couldn’t stop himself from sobbing.
Over the next few days, Derek’s mind was racing every which way, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about Arthur’s death. At some moments, he was so happy that he couldn’t keep a grin off his face, but at other moments, he was hysterical and ready to turn himself in. On the day of the funeral, when he wasn’t feeling anything at all, he was pulled out of school to attend, and he wasn’t the only one. He recognized so many people from school there, blubbering over the death of such a great boy. The casket was open, and Derek stood beside it for a long time, staring. No one said anything to him, and no one suspected anything of him.
“Oh…Arthur…,” Derek mumbled, brushing a hand gently through Arthur’s hair and shuddering as his fingers accidently touched the cold skin of his forehead. He had once heard, at the funeral of a family member, that the recently dead individual appeared to be sleeping, and almost looked peaceful. He hadn’t been allowed to look then, but he realized as he stared at Arthur that that had been a lie. Laying there in the clothes he never would’ve worn with his hair cleaner then it had ever been while he was alive; Arthur didn’t appear to be sleeping. He simply appeared to be…dead. He was cold and blank and gray and still, but not sleeping. Not peaceful. He was dead.
“Arthur,” Derek repeated, keeping his voice soft and barely moving his lips. He didn’t want to be noticed. “I really hope you forgive me. But you know you had it coming to you.” He stopped, hearing someone start to cry not too far behind him. Casting a glance over his shoulder, he saw Arthur’s mother sobbing in her husband’s arms. Derek’s own eyes filled with tears as he turned back to Arthur and leaned over him.
“I’m feeling worse about what I’m doing to your family and friends and to myself then about what I’ve done to you,” he whispered. “They’re going through so much, and I’m loosing my mind wondering if I shouldn’t have done what I did. But I hope that, even after what you did, that you make it into heaven. I won’t see you there if you do, though, But please forgive me. You’ve always been, and always will be, my best friend. But…” He straightened himself up and finished his sentence as he turned away from his friend and began to walk away, still crying slightly.
“I don’t regret it as much as I should. In fact, I don’t regret it much at all.”
“I got you what you asked for,” A voice said from the kitchen doorway. “Do you like it, Derek?” Derek remained silent for a moment, staring at the body on the floor. The murder had been brutal, obviously, but the look of death suited Arthur, and Derek found himself smiling as he turned around.
“You didn’t have to be so violent,” he said softly. “But I really do like it. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now pay up.” Derek pulled his wallet from his pocket, thinking about the scene he was playing a part in. A couple of days ago, a scene like this could only cross his mind if he were reading it, or watching it on TV. Who’d have thought he would ever pay someone to kill his best friend? The two were closer then two peas in a pod. Why would he ever do something like that?
Because Arthur had struck first, that’s why. At first, it wasn’t that big of a deal, with Arthur bringing over a few drinks from his parents’ liquor cabinet to try. Lots of teenagers did, right? But Arthur had gone a bit too far, drinking too much as the days went by.
“Here,” Derek said. “I hope you were careful, because I’m going to have to call the cops.” He handed the money to the other man, who shrugged.
“I’ve never gotten caught before.” Without another word, he left Derek alone in his kitchen. Derek turned around to stare at Arthur again, and then forced himself to fall over and emit a loud scream.
“Help! Somebody call 9-1-1!” Almost the very same words had passed through Derek’s lips a few days ago, as Arthur had been completely intoxicated and had barged into his apartment. He had been violent, and he had left Derek bruised and in pain. He didn’t tell anyone though, and allowed himself to sit in pain those few days. He was still in pain as he sat on the floor, pretending to tremble and shedding fake tears for the man who had hurt him so badly.
The instant the yell had left his lips, the door to his apartment had flown open, and Derek’s intrusive neighbor had raced inside. Once she saw the two boys on the floor, she let out a scream louder then Derek’s had been.
“Derek! Oh my god!” Derek scrambled to his feet and threw himself at her, ‘sobbing’ into her chest.
“I…I just got home from school, a-and when I came in here…I…he…”
“Derek, sweetie, calm down. I’ll call the cops. Just come sit with me until your parents get here, alright?” He nodded, following his neighbor into her apartment and sitting with her on her hideous floral couch.
“Derek, dear…” He looked up at his neighbor, the tears he didn’t mean slowing to a halt. “How did that boy get into his apartment?”
“I…I dunno…I mean Arthur is…was…my best friend.” His neighbor nodded, looking away from Derek. “He might’ve taken a key from me, or my parents might’ve given him one…”
“Why would your parents give him a key?”
“He’s over a lot, and we find him waiting outside the apartment all the time. And we…trust him…” The words almost refused to leave Derek’s lips. After all that had happened a few days ago, he couldn’t honestly say he trusted Arthur, especially after talking to him about it that next day at school. Derek had thought that his actions were due to the alcohol, and only the alcohol, but…he had been wrong. And what Arthur had told him that day was what prompted Derek to get rid of him.
“To be honest,” Arthur had said. “I…I don’t regret it as much as I should. In fact, I don’t regret it much at all.” Then he had smiled and left, leaving Derek alone in the library, horrified.
“Derek, honey…” Derek looked up at his neighbor and found that his vision was blurred for real.
“I…I’m sorry,” he mumbled, wiping at his eyes. The tears continued to fall, however, and suddenly, he felt so pathetic… “I just…” his neighbor pulled him into her arms, and he couldn’t stop himself from sobbing.
Over the next few days, Derek’s mind was racing every which way, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about Arthur’s death. At some moments, he was so happy that he couldn’t keep a grin off his face, but at other moments, he was hysterical and ready to turn himself in. On the day of the funeral, when he wasn’t feeling anything at all, he was pulled out of school to attend, and he wasn’t the only one. He recognized so many people from school there, blubbering over the death of such a great boy. The casket was open, and Derek stood beside it for a long time, staring. No one said anything to him, and no one suspected anything of him.
“Oh…Arthur…,” Derek mumbled, brushing a hand gently through Arthur’s hair and shuddering as his fingers accidently touched the cold skin of his forehead. He had once heard, at the funeral of a family member, that the recently dead individual appeared to be sleeping, and almost looked peaceful. He hadn’t been allowed to look then, but he realized as he stared at Arthur that that had been a lie. Laying there in the clothes he never would’ve worn with his hair cleaner then it had ever been while he was alive; Arthur didn’t appear to be sleeping. He simply appeared to be…dead. He was cold and blank and gray and still, but not sleeping. Not peaceful. He was dead.
“Arthur,” Derek repeated, keeping his voice soft and barely moving his lips. He didn’t want to be noticed. “I really hope you forgive me. But you know you had it coming to you.” He stopped, hearing someone start to cry not too far behind him. Casting a glance over his shoulder, he saw Arthur’s mother sobbing in her husband’s arms. Derek’s own eyes filled with tears as he turned back to Arthur and leaned over him.
“I’m feeling worse about what I’m doing to your family and friends and to myself then about what I’ve done to you,” he whispered. “They’re going through so much, and I’m loosing my mind wondering if I shouldn’t have done what I did. But I hope that, even after what you did, that you make it into heaven. I won’t see you there if you do, though, But please forgive me. You’ve always been, and always will be, my best friend. But…” He straightened himself up and finished his sentence as he turned away from his friend and began to walk away, still crying slightly.
“I don’t regret it as much as I should. In fact, I don’t regret it much at all.”
The Bike Race, by Diego Vivar 9th Grade
It’s was on a hot sunny day during summer and I just moved from Chicago to Minnesota. I was 12 year old and I was in sixth grade. So during the weekend I was racing with other kids in my neighborhood. And my brother came up to me a said he could beat me in a bike so I said lets race. At first was beating, but as soon as I got to finishing line I messed I hit bump which led me to the a brick wall and I was going really fast and I lost control and hit the wall. I was knocked out by the brick wall for at least one min. I woke up my mom saw me on the ground and she hurried to the car and we left to the hospital. The doctor said I needed stitches on my lip and they put white thing around my neck. We got home I went to sleep and then the next morning my whole body was sore and I had burses around my body. Since that I decide to never bike race again because I was scared of that same thing happening to me.
The End
The End
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