serein

United States

[Child of God]
formerly "in_love_with_writing"
Call me Ari if you like. (or any other nickname--my name is ariana)
Girl | INFJ-T | aspire to be teacher, (author?) | ATEEZ| I'm not half as obsessed with kpop as I seem...

Message from Writer

Shoutout to my lovely friends (go follow them!)
AliMuscles04
rainey grace
Lata B.
Ren
Rohan's Defender (my ranting about kpop buddy)
✧♬TwinklingLights♬✧

probably headbanging to ATEEZ, and/or crying to "She's in the Rain" by The Rose.

serein: the fine rain that falls from a clear sky at sunset or in the early hours of the night.

Rant at me in the comments--I'm sooooo bored.

#giveusbackourwords

(lol I would put song recommendations here, but I don't want to scare y'all.)

Published Work

unheard


her throat is parched, dry and crumbling into sand.
all these words clawing to get out--
long-fingered hands reaching for air
dripping with zeal, with the desire of expression.

alas, her mouth is sealed shut,
killing off communication, and with it
that last spark from fire of passion.

and she's all that's left.
a girl and the chaos of the thoughts in her mind.

can you hear me?

Cyanide and Tea

Miss Angelina’s long fingers tightened around the handle of the tea-cup. She eyed the man before her: greased back brown hair, side-parted. Round spectacles that were slowly sliding down a long, narrow nose. Thin lips pursed in a line. Was it worry? Or determination?
“Mr. Osbourne,” she lilted, relishing the name. “How much do you know about...the...erm...incident, shall we say?” She smiled coquettishly, but her eyes betrayed the rising fire growing inside her.
Mr. Osbourne cleared his throat nervously. “Not much, Miss. I was simply walking home from work and I happened to see a young man--surely not older than you--doing something...he seemed to be, uh, burying a body. Miss?”
A young man. Miss Angelina nodded, and smiled sweetly.
“Do have some tea, Mr. Osbourne. I’m sure it will help with shock.”
A wave a relief passed over Mr. Osbourne’s face. He sat back in his seat and watched Miss Angelina as she delicately poured the steaming...

Poetry and Spoken Word Competition: 2021

the seasons of emotion


i. tears

Hold me in your hands while I cry the tears of salvation.
Let the salty droplets run down your wrinkled walnut fingers,
and hit the ground in an explosion of miniscule globules,
saturating the earth with the salty fragrance of the sea.

ii. spring 

Wipe my eyes with the petals of a lily-flower.
Catch the streaks of fire trodden by the water of the ocean that mirrors the sadness of life and death;
let it soak into the frosty fronds and bring about spring's rejuvenation. 

iii. deja-vu

Kiss my cheek with your cracked, bleeding lips, a mouth smelling of awakening and determination.
Set me down as the pungent smell overwhelms me;
I fall down dizzily, only to get up back up and stray into a nightmare of deja-vu,
left only with the memory of a pair of gruff lips grazing my cheek.

Poetry and Spoken Word Competition: 2021

the seasons of emotion


i. tears

Hold me in your hands while I cry the tears of salvation.
Let the salty droplets run down your wrinkled walnut fingers,
and hit the ground in an explosion of miniscule globules,
saturating the earth with the salty fragrance of the sea.

ii. spring 

Wipe my eyes with the silken petals of a lily-flower.
Catch the streaks of fire trodden by the water of the ocean that mirrors the sadness of life and death;
let it soak into the frosty fronds and bring about spring's rejuvenation. 

iii. deja-vu

Kiss my cheek with your cracked, bleeding lips, a mouth smelling of awakening and determination.
Set me down as the pungent smell overwhelms me;
I fall down dizzily, only to get up back up and stray into a nightmare of deja-vu,
left only with the memory of a pair of gruff lips grazing my cheek.

Poetry and Spoken Word Competition: 2021

the seasons of emotion


i. tears

Hold me in your hands while I cry the tears of salvation.
Let the salty droplets run down your wrinkled walnut fingers,
and hit the ground in an explosion of miniscule globules,
saturating the earth with the salty fragrance of the sea.

ii. spring 

Wipe my eyes with the silken petals of a lily-flower.
Catch the streaks of fire trodden by the water of the ocean that mirrors the sadness of life and death;
let it soak into the frosty fronds and bring about spring's rejuvenation. 

iii. deja-vu

Kiss my cheek with your cracked, bleeding lips, a mouth smelling of awakening and determination.
Set me down as the pungent smell overwhelms me;
I fall down dizzily, only to get up back up and stray into a nightmare of deja-vu,
left only with the memory of a pair of gruff lips grazing my cheek.

Home’s Essence

an exploration of the home


People say my house smells like spices. Especially on Thursday, when my Dad cooks up one of his mouth-watering dishes that take hours to make but only about ten minutes to eat. Smells waft through the house. Turmeric, saffron, cinnamon, each providing their own distinct aroma as they simmer in a huge pot.

Sounds fill our home as well. A random alarm clock that rings every morning at 10:03. Stairs talking to each other in creaks and croaks as someone runs up them two at a time. Long nails that need a trimming scratching the floor as my dog runs from window to window, watching my sister outside. Someone singing "Grenade" for the fourth time today (and another voice yelling "shut up"--it might or might not be me). Maybe even the rare sound of my grandmother plucking out a tune on the piano, filling the room with the rich sound of Chopin.

Home isn't necessarily found in the senses, though....

sometimes i just want to crawl away in a hole and never bless people with my face again


you don't know how much your words hurt me. 
they lash out, spitting fire, just to disappear--
leaving only a bruise;
something you don't notice until it starts feeling sore again in the deep dark of the night when no one is watching.

ugly words. that just add to my burden of showing
happiness
smiles
laughter.

all lies, lies.
meant to cover up the discolored misery that boils away in the inky abyss of my stomach.

your pointless words.
why? why do you feel the need of insulting me? 
why don't you think i never want to take pictures, or be posted on your tiktok?
know i'm ugly.
i just don't need you to tell me.

they tell me to "love myself."
all these stupid songs.
"it's a great message."
yes it is.
but what if i'm not my type?

oh how these shoulders ache.
i'm not sure I can stay standing much longer.
already my knees buckle, as...

my soul craves being alone to satisfy the hunger of the monsters (footnotes)


i like being alone. curling up in a tight ball with my hood on and wading through a sea of sadness. letting my thoughts wrap their arms around me and squeeze every smile, every drop of laughter out, wringing out the cupcakes and rainbows.

songs in my head washing over me in melancholy waves leaving me dripping in warm tears. they dribble down my chin in sticky streams, fighting their way into my mouth. salty.

alone. i fight the monsters alone. the darkness is spreading, swallowing me up

you wanna hurt yourself I'll stay with you...it's better to be held than holding on

words scream across my mind
                not enough    not enough
no one cares / no one knows

 ̶b̶u̶t̶ ̶i̶ ̶s̶t̶i̶l̶l̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ 
  

no.
who are you? a song. a nebulous idea brought to life by someone thousands of miles away.
reality is darkness / darkness is reality

hope is gone, the light covered by sheets of...

the sun will rise again (footnotes)


and when the sun sets and the shadows emerge
from that dark hell of sadness and misery
crowding the fiery heart and blowing out its flame with a breath from putrid lips
Hope will whisper her seductive message of inspiration
tickling your ear with the sound of ringing bells.
in your hand she will place a spark, shining bright against against the Stygian sky
a tiny golden drop from the rays of Faith, the last in this bleak world.
and you will blow--
you will feed it with oxygen, and breathe into it life and coax it into a flame
you will raise it high and light the sky with raging red tongues of fire
licking up the shadows and spitting them back into hell.
and Hope will look you in the eye and smile
"the sun is risen again."

Friendship Tweet

jokes, lunch, and ripped pants


Friendship is laughing at the same stupid inside jokes. Friendship is eating lunch with five other people but only talking to you. Friendship is missing class to help you find another pair of pants after you ripped yours again. (Let's staple them back together, shall we?) Friendship is being able to tell you absolutely anything and knowing that you will always support me.
Friendship slipped through my fingers. But I think I'll be able to hold on better next time.

the sun will rise again (footnotes)


and when the sun sets and the shadows emerge
from that dark hell of sadness and misery
crowding the fiery heart and blowing out the flame with a breath from putrid lips
Hope will whisper her seductive message of inspiration
tickling your ear with the sound of ringing bells.
in your hand she will place a spark, shining bright against against the Stygian sky
a tiny golden drop from the rays of Faith, the last in this bleak world.
and you will blow--
you will feed it with oxygen, and breathe into it life and coax it into a flame
you will raise it high and light the sky with raging red tongues of fire
licking up the shadows and spitting them back into Hell.
and Hope will look you in the eye and smile
"the sun is risen again."

i have no words--please read footnotes


This is unexpected; y'all slapped me in the face, but instead of the sting I feel a rush of happiness
How do I express my gratitude sufficiently with the meager words the English language provides?
Always I will remember each and every one of you
Not as "100 followers" but as a multitude of friends, surrounding and encouraging me, your
Kindness will never be forgotten.

You have helped me through so much
Over and over I ask for help and am answered, always you helped me
Up



 

Year by Year

in which i write a boring list of the events that happened to me each year of my life

Year one: I am born, a twin, crying softly as I enter the cruel world. As usual for me (a perfectionist) I am born right on time, seven o'clock I believe. My twin, on the other hand, was born forty-eight minutes later, bawling and screaming. My family always jokes that I wanted to come out, while she just wanted to stay in and sleep.

A couple weeks later, my mom brings me to the hospital, where I am diagnosed with Meningitis. (I know there's different types, I'm not sure which one I had). According to my mom, I probably had a really bad headache. I stayed at the hospital, while me mom tried to stay with me for as long as the Italian doctors would let her. In her free time, she pumped milk. I remember she told me once that she pumped milk for so long, had filled up a couple bottles, and then spilled them. She was so tired she...

epiphany


lying in bed with hot salty tears running down my face
creating trails of fire down my cheeks
and streaming down my neck and under my hot sweaty pyjamas
i thought of you--
your laugh (the way you sounded like a cackling villain) 
your blue-gray eyes (you'd always ask me whether they were blue or grey)
lunch (trading my sandwich for your pizza)

and no one turned off the tap flooding with memories
they just kept coming and coming
in a stream of never-ending words, pictures, colors
latin (we sat next to each other)
track (hugging you after winning the race)
basketball (celebrating after winning the championship)

until i stopped. 
and the realization slapped me in the face and knocked me over
that you weren't crying for me. 
you didn't care.
you didn't remember.
because you aren't the same.

and the tears came
and i couldn't breath because the sadness that hit me had knocked the breath out of...

in which i write about a mysterious being comforting me because i am in need of comfort *footnotes*


Hold me in your hands while I cry the tears of salvation. Let the salty droplets run down your wrinkled walnut fingers, and hit the ground in an explosion of miniscule globules, saturating the earth with the salty fragrance of the sea.

Wipe my eyes with the silken petals of a lily-flower. Catch the streaks of fire trodden by the water of the ocean that mirrors the sadness of life and death; let it soak into the frosty fronds and bring about spring's rejuvenation. 

Kiss my cheek with your cracked, bleeding lips, a mouth smelling of awakening and determination. Set me down as the pungent smell overwhelms me; I fall down dizzily, only to get up back up and stray into a nightmare of deja-vu, left only with the memory of a pair of gruff lips grazing my cheek.

Dream Big

teacher


My mom is a teacher.

Every day, I hear her wake up early to go to work.
I see her walk in at four o'clock and drop her books on the floor.
I sit at dinner as she complains about her students
I watch her late at night scrambling to get her planning done.

From the moment she started teaching, a spark lit in me.
I'm not sure what I'll teach, but want to inspire students the way she does. 

Cause

I want to wake with the birds in the dark morning and make the drive to school.
I want to stagger inside after a long day at work and drop my stuff on the cabinet by the door.
I want talk between mouthfuls at dinner about my students.
I want to stay up while every one else is fast asleep and finish planning I didn't have time for during the day.

I want to be able to say I...

not dying


my heart is drowning in a sea of salt water
the chalky substance eats away at my maladroit heart
leaving behind ribbons of nugatory red, dripping the
last dewdrops of love like molten red wax
that hardens at the bottom, never to thaw again;
for in this everlasting winter, spring is hidden in the clouds of desperation, and she refuses to reveal her glowing face to       
    the longing heart.

'cause your love was sunshine
        until it wasn't.
   
your love was a shard of hope, that last part needed to piece together a broken soul and bring life to the lifeless.

cause i can't live without you.
i can only not die.

The Creditor's Daughter and the Debtor's Son--Chapter 5: Ezra

One morning I was walking down to work the way I did every morning. It was colder than usual, and the wind blew right through my thin coat. I kept my head down in an attempt to shield my face from the stinging wind-- until I saw something that made my head snap up so fast it hurt. I looked over to the other side of the street to see a girl, who looked strikingly similar to Ada, walking with some strange guy. She was smiling and talking easily to him. Just to make sure, I quietly crossed the street and slid in a couple feet behind them.
    As I watched them, I realized it was definitely Ada. I could see it in the way she walked, the way she unconsciously flipped her hair off her shoulder. Every now and then, she would turn around to look behind her and I would drop my head. I don’t think she...

the Bible Challenge--aka why I believe God exists

So I’m going to hop onto the bandwagon and write a piece about why I believe God exists. Just like all the other pieces out there, this is not meant to convert anyone (although if that happens, I will be very happy) it is only meant to tell you my reasoning behind God’s existence. I would love to hear feedback in the comments if you have any, and I’ll answer any questions. 
All right back to business.
#1: Moral Code
I have read many of the other pieces on both sides, and many of them used the moral code as an example. How is it that we have a clear perception of right and wrong--that we can feel guilt, that we have a conscience? I am learning about evolution in my biology class. Although we focused a lot on the evolution of the body I never remember learning about the evolution of the mind. Sure, I learned that our brains...

gone with the wind


her ice-cold eyes told a story of sadness, rejection. they shone in the midnight sky rivaling the stars with their twinkling as she sang sad songs in a soft crooning voice. a nightingale they called her. more like a mourning dove, calling to the skies, eyes wide open and reflecting the emptiness that answered her back. she sighed, a long drawn out moan that barely escaped her choked up voice cracking with the resignation of her fate. and even as her parched lips echoed that last song, a breath blown from the heavens she had so forlornly looked up to swept around her willowy body, playing with her golden strands of hair until she was surrounded by its whirlwind. she breathed her last breath, sang her last note, and then she was gone. A flame blown out by unknown lips. never known, never to be mourned, never to be remembered. gone with the wind.

a conversation with writer's block


ME: Um...excuse me trying to come through....

WRITER'S BLOCK: Yeah, no.

ME: I'm sorry what? my friend, i need to write something

WRITER'S BLOCK: Honey--how do i say this--YOU WRITE TOO DANG MUCH YOU NEED TO SLOW DOWN

ME: oH mY gOsH aLfRiGhTy mY fRiEnD

WRITER'S BLOCK: you say my friend one more time--

ME: mY fRIenD

WRITER'S BLOCK: That's it! You're done--you can't even finish writing this!

ME: oh my gosh al-

WRITER'S BLOCK: *evil laugh*

Book Review Competition 2021

"Unbroken" by Laura Hillenbrand--a biography unlike any other


"In the predawn darkness of August 26, 1929, in the back bedroom of a small house in Torrance, California, a twelve-year-old boy sat up in bed, listening."

So begins "Unbroken", by Laura Hillenbrand, following the journey of world-class runner Louie Zamperini from the Olympics down to his capture and enslavement in a Japanese concentration camp. Set in the chaos and tumult of World War Two, Laura Hillenbrand's impressive writing is able to capture the minute details of Zamperini's life without the boredom of a typical biography. 

The story begins with Zamperini, a rebellious child, violent and indifferent. He stole, played pranks, and even knocked people unconscious. His parents were at their wits ends, when finally Louie’s brother Pete stepped in. An avid runner himself, he introduced Louie to track and field. As the vigorous training progressed, a special passion for the sport developed in Louie’s heart. Finally, he had something he was good at, something that made him feel...

Given First Line

Dreaming about ships


Ships at a distance have every man's wish on board, a fantasy lost in the sky, far from the concrete land of reality. A void in their hearts calls to be filled, yearns to cross and ocean of dreams unprepared for the unexpected. They look to the sea, envying the care-free seagulls, wishing for the wind whipping through their hair, for the weightlessness of indifference. They wish to shrug off the responsibility of wives and children, jobs and bills. But the wind is strong, the sea is wide, the ship far from land. Men are brittle branches broken off the tree of Humanity--not adapted to the sea's rage. So they turn their backs on the ships, and return to their work, muttering about pipe dreams. And though the fantasy is pushed to the back of their minds, every now and then they look to the sea, thinking about the dreams, wind, and ships.
 

Book Review Competition 2021

"Unbroken" by Laura Hillenbrand--a biography unlike any other


"In the predawn darkness of August 26, 1929, in the back bedroom of a small house in Torrance, California, a twelve-year-old boy sat up in bed, listening."

So begins "Unbroken", by Laura Hillenbrand, following the journey of world-class runner Louie Zamperini from the Olympics down to his capture and enslavement in a Japanese concentration camp. Set in chaos and tumult of World War Two, Laura Hillenbrand's impressive writing is able to capture the minute details of Zamperini's life without the boredom of a typical biography. 

The story begins with Zamperini, a rebellious child, violent and indifferent. He stole, played pranks, even knocked people unconscious. Finally his brother Pete steps in and introduces him to running. Louie falls in love, and a track star is born. 
He competed in the 1936 Berlin Olympics running the 5,000 meters, although his favorite distance was the 1,600.

The book explores many concepts, from resilience, to forgiveness, but at the heart of it is...

The Creditor's Daughter and the Debtor's Son Chapter 3--Paris

I had never felt so bad in my life. Alphonse Tudor, my best friend’s father, contacted me asking if I could go and watch over Ada while he was away on a business trip. Now, I was merely a year older than her, but I was already a busy person. I was an only child, which immediately makes me the heir to the family company. If I hadn’t had a meeting myself that week, I would have gladly gone and stayed with her. After all, I had full intentions of being with her forever. 
    I had several memories of Ada forcing me to play “family” with her, and I was always her husband, even when she thought she liked someone else. Ada and I met when we were just toddlers, her three and I four, but I assume it could have been sooner. See, our mothers were good friends and spent a lot of time together, and it was...

your name


I think of your name, forming it with my lips. Sarah. Just that--a two syllable word--and the memories come rushing back.
Your smile, the way you would walk down the school hallway swinging your books easily. But most of all, I remember laughter. 
Pealing laughter. At our jokes. At recess, playing basketball, laughing at how much better you were. Talking about our classmates, imitating our teachers. Your jokes, that down-to-earth way you used to talk. That was you. That was Sarah. But I'm not sure you're Sarah anymore. You're someone else, someone who makes fun of your friend for going to an all-boy high school. Someone who doesn't answer calls, texts. You don't talk the same way. And I miss you. I miss trading lunch with you. I miss skipping class because you ripped your pants (again). I miss sitting in the cafeteria with the rest of our friends but only talking to you. I miss our nicknames. 
I used...

i hate


i hate talking to my best friend knowing i've been forgotten.
i hate people acting like 2021 will be better, when i know it will be the same.
i hate hearing laughter downstairs but feeling sadness up here.
i hate reminiscing about the past, whishing to go back in time.
i hate feeling choked up inside and unable to explain my feelings.
i hate not having a single person to talk to, to let out all these feelings to.
i hate the rain drumming into my head, seeping in, drowning my thoughts.
i hate hearing your name knowing you never think of mine.
 

i dont know what to name this


you put the stars inside of me 
and now i can't get them out
they roll around in my stomach
lighting fires in my heart.
i cry diamond tears of desperation
they form into puddles of rocks
rubies, sapphires, emeralds
slipping down my pinched face
but they mean nothing.
ignited by the stars
my heart alight with raging flames
i dream of the prophetic day
when the stars will lead you to me
the way they led me to you.
 

Lost in Translation

تعارف‎

"Ta'arof nakon!" my father said to his friend. "Don't ta'arof!"

My confused mother asked my father what "ta'arof" meant, only to find out it was one of those words that the English language does not provide a translation for. 

When I looked up what this phenomenon meant, I found that sometimes even the internet doesn't have the answer. Google translate wasn't able to tell me, and the only website that came close was Wikipedia. According to them, Ta'arof is "a Persian word which refers to an Iranian form of civility or art of etiquette that emphasizes both deference and social rank."

I'm not sure about the social rank part, but otherwise, I would say that Wikipedia has given an untranslatable word a very good definition.

Ta'arof, also known as "taarof" or "tarof" plays a large part in Persian culture (almost as large a part as their tea does). In Farsi, it is spelled  تعارف‎.  

The only way to define it...

Writing Resolution

I pledge


I pledge mercy
to those who've hurt my heart
    I'll give it to you as a gift
    for you to remember me by.


I pledge patience
to friends and sisters
    I'll spend as much time as I can with you
    while I'm on this earth.


I pledge generosity
to those who have less than me
    My blessings are countless--I deserve less
    let me share some with you to even things out.

I pledge love
to each and every person
    I love you all--every single last person
    Your virtues, your flaws, every part of you.

    
    

The Roman Catholic Church (Informational piece) *FOOTNOTES*


*The purpose of this piece is to clear up some common rumors that people believe about Catholics, and to provide you with something informational*

What is the Roman Catholic Church?
The Roman Catholic Church, also known as the Catholic Church, is the world's oldest Christian church. With around 1.3 million baptized individuals, it is also the largest Christian church in the world. It is headed by the Pope, considered as the apostolic successor to Peter. Our faith is based on the Bible (mostly the New Testament), our dogmas, and doctrines.

The Brief History:
The Catholic church was founded when Jesus made the Apostle Peter head of the Church: "And I tell you, you are Peter. and on this rock I will build my church," (Matthew 16:18) He also gave the Apostles the Great Commission: "Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, and baptize them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy...

nostalgia


i miss the good old days . . .

Merry Christmas!

Christmas. Houses lit up with lights, trees being dragged in and decorated sloppily by little hands. Letters to Santa, cider, eggnog. Christmas movies--"White Christmas" and "It's a Wonderful Life"--being watched with popcorn on the side, snuggling up on the couch. A fire roaring in the fireplace, the smell of burning wood wafting through the house. Maybe someone is baking something--cinnamon rolls? Gingerbread men? 
Christmas music playing softly in the background, whispers about presents and shopping.
A time of happiness. Of warmth and joy. A time set aside to be spent with your family, to have a reunion. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, coming together to celebrate, with plenty of food to go around.
But this year it's going to be different. Each family celebrating alone. Maybe you'll miss them. Maybe you're happy to have a break from the hustle and bustle that comes with this season. But no matter what, the meaning of Christmas is still here. Even in these dark...

the love i used to have *footnotes*


he took my heart and tore it in half/so now i'm sewing it back together/with the thread of tears and sorrow and cries of anguish/he wrenched my heart from my soul/and tore it into fiery strips and ribbons/abandoning me to a parched desert/ thirsty for his warm touch/he blew out the light from my life/and left me in utter darkness/to wallow through a mud of desolation/unsure of where i'm going/bumping into desperation and anger and vengeance/choking on the love i used to have/and all because of a broken heart/

the love i used to have *footnotes*


he took my heart and tore it in half/so now i'm sewing it back together/with the thread of tears and sorrow and cries of anguish/he wrenched my heart from my soul/and tore it into fiery strips and ribbons/abandoning me to a parched desert/ thirsty for his warm touch/he blew out the light from my life/and left me in utter darkness/to wallow through a mud of desolation/unsure of where i'm going/bumping into desperation and anger and vengeance/choking on the love i used to have/and all because of a broken heart/

Bread and Light

My nourishment

There is a certain light in our loves that nourishes each of us.
For some, it is simple bread and water.
For others, it is their family and loved ones, their faith.
And while all this is true for me as well,
There is a special thing that nourishes me, 
And that I believe nourishes you as well.
Writing.
Writing nourishes me.

To some, the written word is just a symbol on a piece of paper.
To me, it is an outpouring of feelings, emotions.
Writing has filled up a void within me,
It has given me a way to let go and live.
It nourishes my very soul, and sets me free.
It allows my to spread my wings and take flight.
My heart beats because of it.
My soul sings because of it. 

Without it, I would starve.
My heart would weaken
My soul would wail.
My mind would turn off
And I would turn into a zombie. ...

i didn't want to


i didn't want to hurt you
the way you hurt me

i didn't want to see you
fall apart in my arms

i didn't want to feel your tears
mingling with mine.

i didn't want to hear "i love you"
from unfeeling lips

i didn't want to meet my lips
with yours one last time

i didn't want to lose you
but i did

 

Roses

    He wakes up in the morning. Birds serenade him, as the sun pours through the window. Slowly, he sits up in the creaking bed and steps out of it. He gets dressed and smiles happily. As he walks down the stairs, Carmen, his caretaker and general housekeeper nods at him. 
    "Up early today, aren't you Earnest?"
    "Well, I have a party to get to!" he says mischievously.
    "A party? Which one?" Carmen asks, buttering some toast.
    "Well the little girls from Italy are visiting their grandmother next door and it's their eighth birthday today." He takes the eggs Carmen hands him and starts eating them meticulously. 
    "Sounds fun. Did you get them a present?"
His face falls. "Oh. Didn't think of that. Guess I can't go."
    "Oh Earnest," she sits down next to him. "Look at your beautiful garden. All of our neighborhood knows about Mr. Earnest Earman's roses!"
    He beams. "Of course! Why didn't I think of that earlier!...

no more


dancing in the shadow of the moon/with only the sun for an enemy/the wind weaves into my hair/arms creating illusions with the shadows/the dusk for a partner/the murky sky my audience/the world my stage/a daffodil in the wind/i wave to and fro/rippling waves in the ocean/a zest for expression/caught up in the exhilaration of movement/oblivion/the sun bleeds into the sky/the light pooling on my face/screams/is it from me?/my body falling apart. crumbling, disintegrating/i am no more/

no more


dancing in the shadow of the moon/with only the sun for an enemy/the wind weaves into my hair/arms creating illusions with the shadows/the dusk for a partner/the murky sky my audience/the world my stage/a daffodil in the wind/i wave to and fro/rippling waves in the ocean/a zest for expression/caught up in the exhilaration of movement/oblivion/the sun bleeds into the sky/the light pooling on my face/screams/is it from me?/my body falling apart. crumbling, disintegrating/i am no more/

Lies


stick a needle through a balloon; phlbert it will deflate
pins and needles, weak but true, are stronger than your current state.

you throw your nonsense lies at me, they look full, promising, a balloon. 
but I know better: cunningly, I stick my needle through.

it all exploded with a bang; you thought I would not find out
and with the sound the whole house rang: those lies they will not sprout.

so now you know I won't be fooled; don't tell me your BS
for in my heart truth always ruled: I'll wait for you to 'fess.

remember that the Devil made lies; they are his go-to tools
a promising, strong balloon in disguise, but weak where truth is in rule. 

 

The Creditor's Daughter and the Debtor's Son Chapter 1--Ada

    “Dad, I’m eighteen years old. I can manage taking a walk!” Just seconds before this, I had gathered up the courage to come to his room and ask him if I could go take a walk around town for a bit, maybe buy a couple things. I even told him that I would make sure that I was home before he left later that day. But, as per usual, he told me that he would only allow me to go if I had an escort. 
    “Ada, you know the rules. I can’t allow you to. Not without someone accompanying you.” I stared at my father, exasperated. Alphonse Bentley Tudor seemed at first glance not much of a man. In his late sixties, he seemed even older, maybe his seventies. When sitting down, he looked like a rather plump, wrinkled walnut. But when he stood up, and unfolded his long self, you were able to see much better why the entire...

Mid-December Grab Bag

Dear 2020


Write a letter to 2020. (by Dmoral)


So...um...how to start this? 
Here goes:
Dear 2020,
why
just why.
why did this happen?
why were you so cruel?
not only did you split the world in half,
you minced it up, too.
you tore us up by the roots
and spun us around
until we got dizzy.
and as the dizziness went away
you stitched up our world 
but mixed up the pieces.
and when we woke up
out of the dizzy spell,
we were tasked with the job
of turning our upside down world
right-side up again.
I hope
i truly hope
that 2021
is a kinder year,
and I am glad 2020
is over.



 

Dust Jacket

My dust jacket, because I have nothing better to do and I'm cold.

1. Were you named after someone?
    I actually don't think I was. My mom is American, my dad is Iranian, and we were living in Italy at the time. My     parents wanted to find a name that could be said in English, Italian, and Iranian. The end result? Ariana. Yup, that's     my name.

2. Have you always been called a nickname?
    Actually, no. When I moved to America, people started calling me nicknames. I was really short, so I got called names     such as "shrimpy," "inchy," and, of course, "grande."
 
3. Do you know anyone with the same name?
    Yes. Obviously, there is Ariana Grande, and although we don't know each other (obviously) she is a well-known figure     that unfortunately I get associated with a lot. 
    However, I have a friend back in Italy that shared my name, only she spelled it with two 'n'. Her little sister's name     was the same as my sister's.
 
4. Does your...

A Letter to my 20 year old self.

Dear Ariana,
I assume since you have opened this and are reading it, that you are currently at least twenty years old. If you are not, PUT THIS AWAY IMMEDIETLY! No peeking! 
Anyway, how's life? Did you go to college? If you did, how's it going? I hope you're not behind on any of your assignments. Moving on.
Do you have a boyfriend? If you don't, don't feel bad. Just be sure to try extra hard to get one. And if you do have a boyfriend, please be sure he is actually worth your time. I trust that my impeccable judgment has not disappeared over five years. 
How's the family? Everything good? Great. Dang, Flora will be fourteen! Make sure that she is acting responsibly. Being a good teenager requires some experience, and you, having lived through the teen years, have lots.
Have you been to church lately? If not, God have mercy on your soul! I want you to...

Performance (edited)

"And next we have Maria Abner, playing 'Chopin, Waltz in B Minor!'"

Maria heard the dreaded sound of her teacher's voice calling out her name. Her heavy Russian accent choppily ran over every syllable, and mixed with her rather husky voice, it was hard for anyone except Maria and the rest of the students to understand her. The skin on the back of Maria's neck prickled, and her hands started shaking--not good if you're about to play the piano. She subconsciously looked around the room. The church where the recital was held was chock-full of people: loving mothers, nodding their heads and smiling encouragingly. Fathers bouncing their legs, sighing, and looking at their watches. Excited grandparents, studying the program and pointing their grandchildren out to each other. Bored brothers and sisters unable to keep still, and constantly asking "Is it over yet?" 
And now it was her turn, to play in front of all these people, to impress her...

Daddy *FOOTNOTES*


D-d-daddy!!!

Daddy's home!

Daddy wook what I found...

Daddy I got a boo-boo! :(

Daddy I wuv you...

Daddy? Mommy where's Daddy?  I WANT DADDY!!

Mommy? Is Daddy in Heaven?





Hey Dad. Happy Birthday. These are the only flowers I could find, and cemetery is kind of far from our house, so its not perfect, but the best I could do. 
I love you.

The seal of love

look at the stars. their shooting
lighting up my heart with fire
i take one down from the satin sky
and break it in half: one for you, one for me
a bond that can never be broken
for who else has sealed their love with stars?
 

a one sided conversation ft. my mom and a scammer *mistakes fixed*

*my mom's phone rings*


Mom: "Hello?"

Mom: "Hello?"

Mom: "Are you a real person?"

Mom: "Mhm. Oh yes, I'm interested."

Mom: "I would like to speak to your manager."

Mom: "No, I can hear you, but I would like to speak to your manager."

Mom: "So what country are you calling from?"

Mom: "Mhm, Atlanta. I asked for a country not a city."

Mom: "No, you responded 'Atlanta" that is not a county that's a city."

Mom: "Oh, I can hear you. Once again, I would like to speak to your manager."

Mom: "Mhm..."

Mom: "So what is this program?"

Mom: "Oh, you want me to just hand over my bank account information so you can fix my 'debt"?"

Mom: "Yeah, no"

Mom: "Um, hello?"

Mom: "Hello?"


*dude on the other end of the line hangs up*

To cleave (or not to cleave?)


Cleave.
Such a funny word
    when you think about it.

Does it mean
to split
    or to stick?

The English language doesn't seem to sure.

If only we could do the same with broken hearts.
And cleave the one side to the other.
After they've been cleaved.

    

The seal of love

look at the stars. their shooting
lighting up my heart with fire
i take one down from the satin sky
and break it in half: one for you, one for me
a bond that can never be broken
for who else sealed their love with stars?
 

The seal of love

look at the stars. their shooting
lighting up my heart with fire
i take one down from the satin sky
and break it in half: one for, one for me
a bond that can never be broken
for who else sealed their love with stars?
 

Trapped


im in a prison
trapped in the cell of my mind
isolated, closed off from world
and yet here i am surrounded by family
i don't, i can't feel
the darkness envelopes me, rising, choking
instead, i laugh and smile
if only they knew what was behind that mask
im living a double life
that of the actress, and that of the bystander
watching other people enjoying life
if this is life i don't want it
and they'll never know
what's behind that mask
darkness
 

Trapped


im in a prison
trapped in the cell of my mind
isolated, closed off from world
and yet here i am surrounded by family
i don't, i can't feel
the darkness envelopes me, rising, choking
instead, i laugh and smile
if only they knew what was behind that mask
im living a double life
that of the actress, and that of the bystander
watching other people enjoying life
if this is life i don't want it
and they'll never know
what's behind that mask
darkness
 

what does it feel like


what does it feel like to be on top of the world
looking down on the ants that are people?
accomplished?
respected?
what does it feel like not to have a care in the world
to just live your life not worrying if you're doing it right?
indifferent?
weightless?
what does it feel like to be loved
to know there is someone out there
willing to sacrifice anything for you
to be there for you no matter what
that loves you above all things?
breathless?
is that joy?
the meaning of happiness?
 

The end


what is the end?
i think i've reached it
this is it
this is the end
i can't feel
my heart is cold
no happiness
or sadness
hope
excitement
all gone
i just cant--
the never-ending 
d a r k 
it envelopes me 
its fingers clutch my heart
im gone--
the
end.
 

There we go again

i catch you looking in my eyes
you look down
embarrassed?
it seems like years ago
that fight we had
do you even remember it?

there we go again
my hand twitches
with longing to be in yours
you take a step closer
but no
it wasn't meant to be

i want to be in your arms again
that feeling of security
i want your lips to touch mine again
that warm fuzzy feeling 
in the pit of my stomach

there we go again
longing for something that 
isn't possible
im not yours
and your not mine
so stop
dont look at me
we cant go back there
again.

Performance (edited)

"And next we have Maria Abner, playing Chopin, Waltz in b Minor!"

Maria heard the dreaded sound of her teacher's voice calling out her name. The skin on the back of her neck prickled, and her hands started shaking--not good if you're about to play the piano. She subconsciously looked around the room. The church where the recital was held was chock-full of people: loving mothers, fathers looking at their watches, excited grandparents, bored brothers and sisters. And now it was her turn, to play in front of all these people, and impress her parents. To show her teacher that all her hard work would pay off. Shakily, she stood up, and walked up to the bench. She bowed to the audience the way she had practiced during her lessons, and made her way to the piano bench. Taking a deep breath, Maria place her hands on the keys. She switched her brain to music. Pedal, dynamics, phrasing. She...

Seasons


In summer time my sister and I
Tried not to think about going to school.
We went to the beach, and played at the pool,
Attempting in vain, to try to stay cool.

Then fall arrived, and my sister and I 
Raked the leaves that fell from the trees.
As our hair was played with by an early winter breeze
And--"Achoo!" she sneezed. (don't get a cold, please.)

At last winter came, and my sister and I 
Thought of her birthday and Christmas and snow,
While decorating our tree by the fire-light glow
And tenderly topping it off with a bow.

And finally, spring ended winter; my sister and I 
Picked flowers as our garden bloomed
And made the house smell sweet with their perfume, 
Excited for fun-filled summer to resume.

 

Lies

stick a needle through a balloon; phlbert it will deflate
pins and needles, weak but true, are stronger than your current state.

you throw your nonsense lies at me, they look full, promising, a balloon. 
but I know better: cunningly, I stick my needle through.

it all exploded with a bang; you thought I would not find out
and with the sound the whole house rang: those lies they will not sprout.

so now you know I won't be fooled; don't tell me your BS
for in my heart truth always ruled: I'll wait for you to 'fess.

remember that the Devil made lies; they are his go-to tools
a promising, strong balloon in disguise, but weak where truth is in rule. 

 

Life


Life is like the sky. 
Sometimes it rains,
Sometimes it snows.
Sometimes it hails, 
Sometimes it's cloudy.
But once in a while, the sun shows.

“All Alive”

Fur

He comes running towards me, laughing and showing his teeth, his puppy fur flopping up and down on his back. I am welcomed by his little paws and sharp claws scraping my leg, and his little whine of happiness. "Down!" I tell him, and we lie on the floor together, his warm wriggly body heating up my cold one. I scratch his back, feeling the soft, shiny puppy fur. It feels like silk in my hand, so delicate, so sweet. I rub my hands up and down his back, he turns his belly up, tongue lolling, eyes begging for a belly rub. I massage his little naked stomach, the soft pink skin warm to my cold hands. Smooth and softer than a baby's butt. He pants and closes his eyes. I move my hand back up to his back and play with his fuzzy fur, like a rabbit's tail. The thin wisps barely feel like anything in my hand,...

Creative Nonfiction Competition 2020

Putting My Life Back Together

This is the story of a family. A family who's life, who, like everyone else's was shattered. But as the pieces of our life fell to the ground, we picked them up. The sharp points on them cut our fingers. But we ignored it, and started the slow process of putting our our life back together. Here is my story.

The first time I heard that the "coronavirus" was killing thousands of people, I was in eighth grade. Every news channel was talking a mile a minute about a mysterious virus infiltrating China and the rest of the world. They promised that our economy was going to collapse, that the world was going to end. I was minding my own business, about to graduate, and trying to finally win the 1600 meters in track while I had the time. I was busy worrying about getting into a good high school my parents could afford; I had no time for the...

Creative Nonfiction Competition 2020

Putting My Life Back Together

This is the story of a family. A family who's life, who, like everyone else's was shattered. But as the pieces of our life fell to the ground, we picked them up. The sharp points on them cut our fingers. But we ignored it, and started the slow process of putting our our life back together. Here is my story.

The first time I heard that the "coronavirus" was killing thousands of people, I was in eighth grade. Every news channel was talking a mile a minute about a mysterious virus infiltrating China and the rest of the world. They promised that our economy was going to collapse, that the world was going to end. I was minding my own business, about to graduate, and trying to finally win the 1600 meters in track while I had the time. I was busy worrying about getting into a good high school my parents could afford; I had no time for the...

a one sided conversation ft. my mom and a scammer *mistakes fixed*

*my mom's phone rings*


Mom: "Hello?"

Mom: "Hello?"

Mom: "Are you a real person?"

Mom: "Mhm. Oh yes, I'm interested."

Mom: "I would like to speak to your manager."

Mom: "No, I can hear you, but I would like to speak to your manager."

Mom: "So what country are you calling from?"

Mom: "Mhm, Atlanta. I asked for a country not a city."

Mom: "No, you responded 'Atlanta" that is not a county that's a city."

Mom: "Oh, I can hear you. Once again, I would like to speak to your manager."

Mom: "Mhm..."

Mom: "So what is this program?"

Mom: "Oh, you want me to just hand over my bank account information so you can fix my 'debt"?"

Mom: "Yeah, no"

Mom: "Um, hello?"

Mom: "Hello?"


*dude on the other end of the line hangs up*

a letter to my middle school "bully"

Dear Grace:
You weren't really a bully. No. You were a lonely girl, a reject of our sixth grade. All you wanted was a real friend. Not your sister, or her weird friends she hung out with. Someone of your own. But you were a manipulator. You saw me: a quirky girl who was new to the school, new to school any school really, since the last time I had attended one was in Italy in the the third grade. You put that fake smile on your face and pretended to welcome me, and show me around. You pretended to be that angel. And I, being a naive idiot, fell for it. I knew you had no social cues, but I thought of you as a kind, sweet girl who was slightly awkward. And all the while, when you would pull me by the hand from my other friends, when you would make fun of me because I was short,...

Creative Nonfiction Competition 2020

Putting My Life Back Together

This is the story of a family. A family who's life, who, like everyone else's was shattered. But as the pieces of our life fell to the ground, we picked them up. The sharp points on them cut our fingers. But we ignored it, and started the slow process of putting our our life back together. Here is my story.

The first time I heard that the "coronavirus" was killing thousands of people, I was in eighth grade. Every news channel was talking a mile a minute about a mysterious virus infiltrating China and the rest of the world. They promised that our economy was going to collapse, that the world was going to end. I was minding my own business, about to graduate, and trying to finally win the 1600 meters in track while I had the time. I was busy worrying about getting into a good high school my parents could afford; I had no time for the...

December Grab Bag

Someone Like You *FOOTNOTES*!!!

Prompt #4: Write a story inspired by a song, with credit to the songwriter in the footnotes. (by I like to write)

   Katie scrolled through her Instagram feed. All she saw was the same thing she saw every day. Beautiful people showing off their expensive clothes and their gorgeous vacations. She was about to turn off her phone when something caught her eye. She scrolled back up a little. It was a picture of a man and his wife, who appeared pregnant. They were sitting on the couch and hugging, one of his hands on her slightly swollen stomach. Then it hit her. It was Peter Adler. Peter Adler, the guy who she had dated for--oh so many years. The guy who had pledged his never ending love to her. Katie looked at the picture again and was brought rushing back to that day...

    "Hey, Peter. Uh, can I talk to you?" Katie looked nervously at him,...

Oh Eldorado!


Oh Eldorado! Eldorado! 
Where it lies no one knows.
Is it the place where happiness grows?
Like flowers in the meadow?
Is it up high? Or down below?
To or fro?
Which way should I go?
For this I know:
Once I find Eldorado,
I shall get rid of the dark shadow,
Who settled on my heart years ago.
Where are you Eldorado?


 

Go ahead, make fun of me


You want to make fun of me? Go ahead. Here you go:
I'm homeschooled, and proud of it. 
Yeah and how about I only listened to classical music until three years ago? I only started listening to pop (barely) a couple years ago. I still dont really know any of the new songs. Really only the ones written in the early two-thousands.
I also dont have a phone, so I dont know the latest tiktok trend. I really still dont know anything. I have never watched Star Wars, and I started watching Marvel this year. (but of course FELL IN LOVE) 
OH how about my BOMB style back in fourth grade? You know, that trendy outfit. What was it? Oh, right. Polo shirts tucked into a black maxi skirt. 
I also just caught up on American culture a couple years ago, when I moved here. (I have a perfect American accent because my mom was American, but I was born...

The Fire of Love *Footnotes!!!*


Still in its embers living the strong fire of love
Simple water cannot extinguish it.

Tears

   
     a
   tear
 slipped
out  her
   eye
 

Change

my friend changed.
she went to high school without me and changed.
i used to be able to tell her everything and now i'm not so sure.
i don't know who to talk to anymore.
something inside me died the day i called her and realized she changed.
she was a part of my soul
a part of my heart
we were intertwined and connected
it's like we were two seeds in an apple 
someone kept me but threw her out
to grow somewhere else.
they say change is hard
but you don't know that until it hits you
but especially if it hits your best friend.

darkness

my mind is a jungle, a forest of beauty
and in it flowers blossom
and take shape into stories, poems
but an invisible hand
turned the light switch off
and all imagination 
and colors
and rainbows
were blocked.
and without these seeds
i cannot water them with my heart
and put them in the sunlight
for you to see
to flourish and blossom
after tended to with reviews.
so in order to fulfill 
my longing for expression
i must write of blank slates
and the 
darkness
that has settled into my brain.
not the type of dark
where eventually your eyes are adjusted to it
no
this is an never ending abyss
the utter and complete lack of light
darker than the richest black.
but their is 
hope
for in a couple hours
i assume
i will find a some seeds
from the last time i was here
and replant them.
they will blossom into flowers
from flowers into a...

What is love?

What is love?
They say that until you experience it, you will never truly know what it is.
Is it butterflies?
Does your heart triple in size like the Grinch?
How do we know that you love with your heart?
What if you love not with your heart but with your soul?

What is love?
Love is when you know that person is far from perfect
But you worship them for their flaws.
Love is not a crush.
Love is not that hot boy or girl at school
That you like only because that's what they look like.

What it love?
It is beyond words, cannot be explained.
Love is when all you think about is that person
And you can't focus on anything else.
Love goes beyond the surface of looks.
It delves deeper

Love is two people sharing one soul
Yes--
Two people sharing one soul.
 

Pandemic Memoir

2020

2020 be like: WAIT! There's more!

i'm sorry

two little words
i'm
sorry
together become stronger
im sorry
but they don't really have meaning
empty of emotion
like a mirage--
seems real, sincere
but behind the facade
can be fake
and were only said to be dismissive
to get rid of you
and the problems you carry with you
so that they can go back to enjoying 
their perfect 
problem free
life
without having to worry
about
how much
they
hurt you.
 

What is love?

What is love?
They say that until you experience it, you will never truly know what it is.
Is it butterflies?
Does your heart triple in size like the Grinch?
How do we know that you love with your heart?
What if you love not with your heart but with your soul?

What is love?
Love is when you know that person is far from perfect
But you worship them for their flaws.
Love is not a crush.
Love is not that hot boy or girl at school
That you like only because that's what they look like.

What it love?
It is beyond words, cannot be explained.
Love is when all you think about is that person
And you can't focus on anything else.
Love goes beyond the surface of looks.
It delves deeper

Love is two people sharing one soul
Yes--
Two people sharing one soul.
 

Pandemic Memoir

2020

2020 be like:: WAIT! There's more!

YOU in threes

Myself in threes (I was bored, and this did not require much thinking...)

Three quirks or idiosyncrasies:
A common answer, but just being plain weird.

Three communities to which you belong (these can be unusual):
*quickly looks up different types of communities because she's not sure if she belongs to any* Ummm all I can think of is I belong to the Catholic community. And the WtW community! Maybe the homeschool community? (is that a thing?) My family?

Three adjectives your peers would use to describe you: 
Probably honest, smart, and sometimes funny.

Three adjectives your family would use:
Hardworking, kind (very rarely), and happy?

Three adjectives you would use:
Writer (that can be one, right?) sarcastic, and a little sad sometimes

Three things about you that very few people know.
That I'm doing WtW (actually no one knows that) that I had meningitis when I was a newborn (and another serious illness that I don't know the name of when I was three), and that I lost my best friend (I do...

Pandemic Memoir

2020

Too many lives ruined too quickly.

i'm sorry

two little words
i'm
sorry
together become stronger
im sorry
but they don't really have meaning
empty of emotion
like a mirage--
seems real, sincere
but behind the facade
can be fake
and were only said to be dismissive
to get rid of you
and the problems you carry with you
so that they can go back to enjoying 
their perfect 
problem free
life
without having to worry
about
how much
they
hurt you.
 

my brain when im trying to sleep

what if I fell in love?
(its kinda something that happens to a lot of people)
who would it be?
(well I dont know well have to see)
when would I meet him?
(honey, youre fifteen you have plenty of time)
but maybe i already like someone
(no you don't ariana stop lying to yourself)
he will never like me back
(since you don't like anyone that shouldnt matter)
hes already taken anyway--they were holding hands
(but were they?)
okay stop i thought i wasnt supposed to like him!
(its my job to confuse you)
fine lets change the subject: where will i go to college?
(maybe youll meet him there)
oh shut up!
(...)

5 seconds later

O MY GOSH ITS MIDNIGHT
(thats right..and you have to wake up early tomorrow..)
im going to sleep
(...)
(whats the name of the boy you like?)

GOODNIGHT!
 

my brain when im trying to sleep

what if I fell in love?
(its kinda something that happens to a lot of people)
who would it be?
(well I dont know well have to see)
when would I meet him?
(honey, youre fifteen you have plenty of time)
but maybe i already like someone
(no you don't ariana stop lying to yourself)
he will never like me back
(since you don't like anyone that shouldnt matter)
hes already taken anyway--they were holding hands
(but were they?)
okay stop i thought i wasnt supposed to like him!
(its my job to confuse you)
fine lets change the subject: where will i go to college?
(maybe youll meet him there)
oh shut up!
(...)

5 seconds later

O MY GOSH ITS MIDNIGHT
(thats right..and you have to wake up early tomorrow..)
im going to sleep
(...)
(whats the name of the boy you like?)

GOODNIGHT!
 

What I ask myself everyday

Here

Is

What

I

Ask

Myself

Everyday:





WHY ARE YOU SO AFRAID OF THE DAMN CRICKETS ARIANA?!?!?
THOSE TINY CREATURES WOULD NEVER BE ABLE TO HURT A HAIR ON YOUR HEAD, YOU DUMBASS!!

Jenna

    Jenna wasn't sure if she could make it much longer. It was a hot summer day, and even though the forest's trees covered most of the sky, she felt like she could melt right at that minute. Her legs ached from constant running and felt swollen and heavy from the strain. Her head felt ready to burst as if the sun was living inside her brain. But she could not, would not stop. She must continue and warn the Wise One before--They--destroyed her world. In her hands she carried the small kitten with different colored eyes: one green and one purple. She had heard of its power, and knew that with it the Wise One could destroy Them and their wild schemes.
    Far off on the horizon, Jenna could see a small speck that was steadily growing. Soon she realized it was the Wise One's cottage. She moved her legs faster in anticipation, sweat...

Flame

Dancing side to side
The flame's dance is never the same
It lilts and leaps in joy.

Is it wierd

Is it weird that I didn't tell my mom about this?

I'm actually not exactly sure why I didn't.

I used to write a lot when I was younger

And then I sort of stopped.

I feel like she would judge me for trying to be a writer.

And that she would ask to see my work

(Which is a big no-no)

One day, if I'm a published author,

I'll tell her the whole story.

But not yet.

Holding Hands

Watching the movie
Sitting between them
He touched my foot--
I look at him startled
But he's not looking at me
His hand travels across the couch
And meets hers
Finger touches finger,
Until, slowly I realize
They're holding hands

Glass

My heart is made of glass
Don't drop it.

Words

Words
That speak to me like music
Each letter, each sound
Spoken from a different voice
Can make them sound special.
Give them a different meaning.
Like different colored string.

Words
That can communicate feelings, emotions:
Sadness, love, joy, 
Woven together like a tapestry,
To create a picture, a story
Or sown as neat stitches onto a cloth
Like a polite greeting, remark.

Words
That can bring so much joy, understanding to the world
But like a double-edged sword
Can also bring hate and tears,
When taken like a string and tied up in knots.
We must be careful,
And pick and choose wisely
What we create with these strands of beauty
And untie the knots 
And turn them into something beautiful.

Glass

My heart is made of glass
Don't drop it.

Weird things I wonder at *Footnotes*

Why is it that when we cry, salt water drips out of our eyes?

Why is it then we think something is funny, we make weird noises to show our appreciation?

Why is it that seeing a woman in bikini is ok, but seeing one in her underwear is not?

Why is it that when we sleep, we get weird hallucinations that we believe are real?

Why is it that when we see a really good performance, we smack our hands together?

 

Laughter

I laugh at the stars 
And the stars laugh back

Words

Words
That speak to me like music
Each letter, each sound
Spoken from a different voice
Can make them sound special.
Give them a different meaning.
Like different colored string.

Words
That can communicate feelings, emotions:
Sadness, love, joy, 
Woven together like a tapestry,
To create a picture, a story
Or sown as neat stitches onto a cloth
Like a polite greeting, remark.

Words
That can bring so much joy, understanding to the world
But like a double-edged sword
Can also bring hate and tears,
When taken like a string and tied up in knots.
We must be careful,
And pick and choose wisely
What we create with these strands of beauty
And untie the knots 
And turn them into something beautiful.

Words

Words
That speak to me like music
Each letter, each sound
Spoken from a different voice
Can make them sound special.
Give them a different meaning.
Like different colored string.

Words
That can communicate feelings, emotions:
Sadness, love, joy, 
Woven together like a tapestry,
To create a picture, a story
Or sown as neat stitches onto a cloth
Like a polite greeting, remark.

Words
That can bring so much joy, understanding to the world
But like a double-edged sword
Can also bring hate and tears,
When taken like a string and tied up in knots.
We must be careful,
And pick and choose wisely
What we create with these strands of beauty
And untie the knots 
And turn them into something beautiful.

Perfect

"They're perfect for each other."
You hear that all the time.
Her hand fits perfectly in his
His lips seem formed to match hers
They're shapes fit perfectly in one another
Like a jigsaw puzzle.

He's quiet, she's lively.
He's a thinker, she's an adventurer.
But maybe they both are
He finds adventure in his books
While she in living her day-to-day life.

Perfectly balanced.
Body, mind, nature, soul.
Their hearts made for each other
To mold together and become as one
A one in a lifetime thing.

Perfect.

Remember

Remember when we sat
Under the starry skies
Pointing at the moon
Enveloped by the deep blue night?
That was back when you loved me.

Remember when we met at the park
Just to hold hands
And look into each other's eyes
To pools of color, sparkling, alive.
Before you moved away.

Remember when I knew the taste of your lips--
I would lean in close, heart racing
Your warm breath caressing my skin
And our lips would meet--soft, smooth, loving
And then she came along...

I used to love you back then.
I think I still do.
But I know you don't.
 

Remember

Remember when we sat
Under the starry skies
Pointing at the moon
Enveloped by the deep blue night?
That was back when you loved me.

Remember when we met at the park
Just to hold hands
And look into each other's eyes
To pools of color, sparkling, alive.
Before you moved away.

Remember when I knew the taste of your lips--
I would lean in close, heart racing
Your warm breath caressing my skin
And our lips would meet--soft, smooth, loving
And then she came along...

I used to love you back then.
I think I still do.
But I know you don't.
 

Thanksgiving

Just a quick lil' poem:

Guys, it's Thanksgiving!
It's time for forgiving,
loving,
and giving.

Give thanks for today,
(I agree: this poem's cliche)
And especially that turkey
(Eat away!)

But what are you most thankful for?
Be sure
to open the door
of your heart 
and use some thought
for whether your rich or poor
There's got to be something
Some kind of blessing!

So Happy thanksgiving everyone!
And be sure to have lots of fun!




 

Corinne (Chapter 2)

    Stella walked with me down the empty hallway. (She had stayed after school with me so she could walk me home after my visit to the principle's office). 
    "So. What did you talk about?" she asked, her green eyes fixed on me as if she expected to hear some kind interesting tea.
    "Oh, you know what you'd expect." I answered. "He asked me why I hadn't turned in my homework for weeks."
    "Well? What did you say?"
    "What could I say? He knows about my dad. One would think he'd be smart enough to figure the rest out."
    She smirked. "Yeah. I wish my mom could help out with Teddy." 
    "Oh Stella." I said. "Your mom has her hands full with your five other siblings. I can't just dump my little brother on her!"
    She stopped walking. We were at the door of the...

Corinne (Chapter 1)

    You would think that after two years of high school you might get the hang of things. You might have gotten your life together, know which group of friends are "trouble", and have your papers turned in on time. Well, I've certainly got my friends figured out. Stella's been my friend for ages--ever since I can remember. But what would seem easier--homework--I have NOT gotten figured out. 
    "Corinne Slater-Cox!" Mr. Eaton takes each syllable of my name, chews it, and spits it out. "You realize this is the fifth time you have not completed your homework, right? Do you have an explanation for this?" He fixes his eyes on me, staring right through me. I sit there in my seat, in his stuffy office that smells of sardines, struggling to stare back at those unblinking eyes. Do I havean explanation? How was I supposed to tell him that my dad had disappeared years ago and...

Corinne (Chapter 1)

    You would think that after two years of high school you might get the hang of things. You might have gotten your life together, know which group of friends are "trouble", and have your papers turned in on time. Well, I've certainly got my friends figured out. Stella's been my friend for ages--ever since I can remember. But what would seem easier--homework--I have NOT gotten figured out. 
    "Corinne Slater-Cox!" Mr. Eaton takes each syllable of my name, chews it, and spits it out. "You realize this is the fifth time you have not completed your homework, right? Do you have an explanation for this?" He fixes his eyes on me, staring right through me. I sit there in my seat, in his stuffy office that smells of sardines, struggling to stare back at those unblinking eyes. Do I havean explanation? How was I supposed to tell him that my dad had disappeared years ago and...

One more thing

So as you may have heard (or not) AliMuscles04 and I are doing a collab!

However, I just got an idea for another series so I might also be publishing one on my own. (I think it will be short, not more than 10 chapters  but we'll have to see).

I think I'll start tomorrow with mine! Super excited!
 

Maybe a series?

So: I'm thinking of starting like a book series about a rich girl and a regular boy who get together, and it sort of has a twist at the end. 

Will it be stupid? Yes
Predictable? I can see that happening

But I always have all these ideas and I feel like the best way to start is to put them down. 
You don't necessarily have to read it, it is mostly so I can get my ideas on paper.
Also, don't be surprised if I stop half way or if this doesn't even happen--cause it probably won't.

I also don't know why I'm telling you this
Just a heads up I guess?

would unfollow me if... *Footnotes*

If I told you I was born in Italy and lived there for 11 years? 
If I told you my grandfather was Jewish?
That I'm white?
That my mom is American but my dad is Iranian? 
That my mom and my two sisters converted to Catholicism
That we are very religious?
Would you unfollow me if I told we believe in the sanctity of life from conception until birth?
That we do not have a Black Lives Matter sign in our yard not because we do not believe black lives matter, but because we believe ALL lives matter whether you are black, white, asian, hispanic.
Would you unfollow me if I told you that although the elderly should be protected, we believe in opening the economy up, especially schools?
Would you unfollow me if I told you that I believe in the traditional marriage, and that God never made a mistake in creating you the way you were?

But would...

Long Day

Today's been a loooooong day...

Babysitting from seven forty-five
Twelve: hop in the car for a homeward drive
Had some lunch and after wrote some
Have to get this competition piece done!
A grueling bike ride at two forty
And showed up at the orthodontist a little early
Biked back home and took the dog on a walk
It was so cold I--now I have writer's block!
Finally, home again (no more cold, yay!)
To try to force myself to write and essay... :(

 

Long Day

Today's been a loooooong day...

Babysitting from seven forty-five
Twelve: hop in the car for a homeward drive
Had some lunch and after wrote some
Have to get this competition piece done!
A grueling bike ride at two forty
And showed up at the orthodontist a little early
Biked back home and took the dog on a walk
It was so cold I--now I have writer's block!
Finally, home again (no more cold, yay!)
To try to force myself to write and essay... :(

 

Creative Nonfiction Competition 2020

Putting My Life Back Together

I remember the first time word that a "virus from China" was killing thousands of people came out. Every news channel was talking a mile a minute about a mysterious virus infiltrating China and the rest of the world. They promised that our economy was going to collapse, that the world was going to end. I was in eighth grade, my last year at the private school I went to. All I was focused on was finally winning the 1600 meters in track while I still had the time, and getting into a good high school my parents could afford. My father's small business of selling leather goods didn't make enough, so my mother had to take up teaching to pay for the school tuition. We lived with my grandmother, and we were trying to save up and move out. Little did we know how hard those dreams would crumble.
   
Then the lockdown came crashing down.

School was...

Creative Nonfiction Competition 2020

Putting My Life Back Together

I remember the first time word that a "virus from China" was killing thousands of people came out. Every news channel was talking a mile a minute about a mysterious virus infiltrating China and the rest of the world. They promised that our economy was going to collapse, that the world was going to end. I was in eighth grade, my last year at the private school I went to. All I was focused on was finally winning the 1600 meters in track while I still had the time, and getting into a good high school my parents could afford. My father's small business of selling leather goods didn't make enough, so my mother had to take up teaching to pay for the school tuition. We lived with my grandmother, and we were trying to save up and move out. Little did we know how hard those dreams would crumble.
   
Then the lockdown came crashing down.

School was...

Creative Nonfiction Competition 2020

Putting My Life Back Together

I remember the first time word that a "virus from China" was killing thousands of people came out. Every news channel was talking a mile a minute about a mysterious virus infiltrating China and the rest of the world. They promised that our economy was going to collapse, that the world was going to end. I was in eighth grade, my last year at the private school I went to. All I was focused on was finally winning the 1600 meters in track while I still had the time, and getting into a good high school my parents could afford. My father's small business of selling leather goods didn't make enough, so my mother had to take up teaching to pay for the school tuition. We lived with my grandmother, and we were trying to save up and move out. Little did we know how hard those dreams would crumble.
   
Then the lockdown came crashing down.

School was...

Creative Nonfiction Competition 2020

Putting My Life Back Together

I remember the first time word that a "virus from China" was killing thousands of people. I was in eighth grade, my last year at the private school I went to. All I was focused on was finally winning the 1600 meters in track while I still had the time, and getting into a good high school my parents could afford. My father's small business of selling leather goods didn't make enough, so my mother had to take up teaching. My family lived with my grandmother, and we were trying to save up and move out. Little did we know how hard those dreams would crash.
   
Then the lockdown came smashing down.

School was closed for a month (or so they said) and the governor issued that everyone must wear masks, stay six feet apart ("social distancing" a new term for me to get used to!) and only gatherings of under ten people were allowed.
I remember...

Creative Nonfiction Competition 2020

Putting My Life Back Together

I remember the first time word that a "virus from China" was killing thousands of people. I was in eighth grade, my last year at the private school I went to. All I was focused on was finally winning the 1600 meters in track while I still had the time, and getting into a good high school my parents could afford. My father's small business of selling leather goods didn't make enough, so my mother had to take up teaching. My family lived with my grandmother, and we were trying to save up and move out. Little did we know how hard those dreams would crash.
   
Then the lockdown came smashing down.

School was closed for a month (or so they said) and the governor issued that everyone must wear masks, stay six feet apart ("social distancing" a new term for me to get used to!) and only gatherings of under ten people were allowed.
I remember...

Creative Nonfiction Competition 2020

Putting My Life Back Together

I remember the first time word that a "virus from China" was killing thousands of people. I was in eighth grade, my last year at the private school I went to. All I was focused on was finally winning the 1600 meters in track while I still had the time, and getting into a good high school my parents could afford. My father's small business of selling leather goods didn't make enough, so my mother had to take up teaching. My family lived with my grandmother, and we were trying to save up and move out. Little did we know how hard those dreams would crash.
   
Then the lockdown came smashing down.

School was closed for a month (or so they said) and the governor issued that everyone must wear masks, stay six feet apart ("social distancing" a new term for me to get used to!) and only gatherings of under ten people were allowed.
I remember...

Found (republished after editing)

She's the type of girl who smells the book before she reads it.
He's the type to scoff at being smart.
She spends her life surrounded by books for friends.
He has time only to practice football.
She knows who she is, what her purpose is.
He is in a fog, trying to find himself.

She sits at the park bench, immersed in her book, the world around her meaningless. On the other side, he passes the football with his friends, swinging his arm back and letting loose the ball like a bullet.

Twenty minutes go by, and she is still reading her book, unaware of her surroundings. His friends have left, and night seems looming on the horizon. He looks around the now empty park, his steady blue eyes taking in the peacefulness. He  finally settles on the park bench and the girl, muffled in her coat, her eyes alive as she reads as if her life depended on...

Found (republished after editing)

She's the type of girl who smells the book before she reads it.
He's the type to scoff at being smart.
She spends her life surrounded by books for friends.
He has time only to practice football.
She knows who she is, what her purpose is.
He is in a fog, trying to find himself.

She sits at the park bench, immersed in her book, the world around her meaningless. On the other side, he passes the football with his friends, swinging his arm back and letting loose the ball like a bullet.

Twenty minutes go by, and she is still reading her book, unaware of her surroundings. His friends have left, and looks around the empty park. His eyes settle on the park bench and the girl reading as if her life depended on it. He had seen her there before, every day, reading in the fresh air. She went to the same school he went to. No one...

Found (republished after editing)

She's the type of girl who smells the book before she reads it.
He's the type to scoff at being smart.
She spends her life surrounded by books for friends.
He has time only to practice football.
She knows who she is, what her purpose is.
He is in a fog, trying to find himself.

She sits at the park bench, immersed in her book, the world around her meaningless. On the other side, he passes the football with his friends, swinging his arm back and letting loose the ball like a bullet.

Twenty minutes go by, and she is still reading her book, unaware of her surroundings. His friends have left, and looks around the empty park. His eyes settle on the park bench and the girl reading as if her life depended on it. He had seen her there before, every day, reading in the fresh air. She went to the same school he went to. No one...

Found (republished after editing)

She's the type of girl who smells the book before she reads it.
He's the type to scoff at being smart.
She spends her life surrounded by books for friends.
He has time only to practice football.
She knows who she is, what her purpose is.
He is in a fog, trying to find himself.

She sits at the park bench, immersed in her book, the world around her meaningless. On the other side, he passes the football with his friends, swinging his arm back and letting loose the ball like a bullet.

Twenty minutes go by, and she is still reading her book, unaware of her surroundings. His friends have left, and looks around the empty park. His eyes settle on the park bench and the girl reading as if her life depended on it. He had seen her there before, every day, reading in the fresh air. She went to the same school he went to. No one...

Ten

I thought I might do something a little different and share a poem my grandmother wrote for me when I turned ten. (I am currently 15)
Also, thank you so much to everyone, you have given me such a warm welcome!


Ten

I watch you leap, and see your smile,
A girl who can run many a mile
And look as though she's not attached to earth.
I watched you enter, that easy slide,
And should have known you would soon glide
Along as smoothly as you did through birth:
A girl who also knows her mind,
Who dwells in books where she can find
The stories that she needs to know.
Perhaps one day when you are grown
You'll find you need to write your own,
For these are good seeds you have sown.



Thank you Grandma! I love you!

Time Travel

I wish I could go back in time
Back in eighth grade
When we actually went to school
And learned 
    and had fun
        and hugged each other

I wish I could go back in time
When the coronavirus was just a joke
And when someone
sneezed
    or coughed
        we would yell "corona!"

I wish I could go back in time
Back when my family's business
Wasn't in danger
Of
    being shutdown
            losing money
                closing

I wish I could go back in time when life was normal            

Spotlight

Woosh
The curtain goes up
Eyes blinded by the light
Feet rooted to the ground
Then...
The music starts
The melody, ingrained in my head, ingrained in my bones
Wakes me up
Toes pointed
Legs straight
I start to dance
The pitter-patter of point shoes on the dance floor
Lost in a dream of the glow of lights and the soft music
I follow the beat with my legs and arms
Gracefully moving across the stage
Until, at the end, the final notes playing
I stop--
APPLAUSE!
Loud, blaring, sudden
I make my bow and move off the stage for the next dancer to perform. 
 

Spotlight

Woosh
The curtain goes up
Eyes blinded by the light
Feet rooted to the ground
Then...
The music starts
The melody, ingrained in my head, ingrained in my bones
Wakes me up
Toes pointed
Legs straight
I start to dance
The pitter-patter of point shoes on the dance floor
Lost in a dream of the glow of lights and the soft music
I follow the beat with my legs and arms
Gracefully moving across the stage
Until, at the end, the final notes playing
I stop--
APPLAUSE!
Loud, blaring, sudden
I make my bow and move off the stage for the next dancer to perform. 
 

Time Travel

I wish I could go back in time
Back in eighth grade
When we actually went to school
And learned 
    and had fun
        and hugged each other

I wish I could go back in time
When the coronavirus was just a joke
And when someone
sneezed
    or coughed
        we would yell "corona!"

I wish I could go back in time
Back when my family's business
Wasn't in danger
Of
    being shutdown
            losing money
                closing

I wish I could go back in time when life was normal            

Time Travel

I wish I could go back in time
Back in eighth grade
When we actually went to school
And learned 
    and had fun
        and hugged each other

I wish I could go back in time
When the coronavirus was just a joke
And when someone
sneezed
    or coughed
        we would yell "corona!"

I wish I could go back in time
Back when my family's business
Wasn't in danger
Of
    being shutdown
            losing money
                closing

I wish I could go back in time when life was normal            

Ten

I thought I might do something a little different and share a poem my grandmother wrote for me when I turned ten. (I am currently 15)
Also, thank you so much to everyone, you have given me such a warm welcome!


Ten

I watch you leap, and see your smile,
A girl who can run many a mile
And look as though she's not attached to earth.
I watched you enter, that easy slide,
And should have known you would soon glide
Along as smoothly as you did through birth:
A girl who also knows her mind,
Who dwells in books where she can find
The stories that she needs to know.
Perhaps one day when you are grown
You'll find you need to write your own,
For these are good seeds you have sown.



Thank you Grandma! I love you!

Ten

I thought I might do something a little different and share a poem my grandmother wrote for me when I turned ten. (I am currently 15)
Also, thank you so much to everyone, you have given me such a warm welcome!


Ten

I watch you leap, and see your smile,
A girl who can run many a mile
And look as though she's not attached to earth.
I watched you enter, that easy slide,
And should have known you would soon glide
Along as smoothly as you did through birth:
A girl who also knows her mind,
Who dwells in books where she can find
The stories that she needs to know.
Perhaps one day when you are grown
You'll find you need to write your own,
For these are good seeds you have sown.



Thank you Grandma! I love you!

Doubts

I have this urge to express myself
To write down my feelings for the world to understand
But I am plagued by doubts
                    What if nobody likes it?

I feel like their are two voices inside me
One that feeds my brain ideas
And another that rejects them, questions them
                    That story is so stupid

And then I am left with nothing
If all my ideas are stupid
What is left to write? 
                    I'm never going to be an author

So I start over and take every idea
Think about it carefully
And try to write it in the least stupid way possible.
                    See what happens when you try to suppress your doubts?

All Talk

Still Friends

"Linda, did you hear about Jake and Sarah?"
"No, what about them?"
"They're DATING!"
"Oh."
"I guess Jake was lying when he said he liked you."
"I knew it was too good to be true. No one would want to date me when I look like this."
"Yeah, it's probably your glasses. You look like a nerd."
"Wow, thanks, Hanna."
"Oh, and don't forget that pimple that just camps out on your forehead. Oh, and the one on your chin. And don't forget about that one, oh, and that one, and--"
"You know what Hanna? I think I'm tired of your comments. All you do is make fun of the way I look, the way I dress, how short I am, and I'm sick of it. Goodbye."
"Wait...Linda..."
"What do you want? To make fun of me more?"
"Look--I'm sorry. I didn't realize that would hurt your feelings so much."
"Well you were wrong. It did."
"It's just that...you...