General writing

On the way to school yesterday

By: Alejandro Segura

                On the way to school yesterday I discovered the most amazing statue. It was of a beautiful catamount. And then I saw something. It looked like a puma, but a puma. That’s not possible all the only things look like pumas in Vermont are catamounts, and they all went extinct. Then it moved. Oh my god. Catamounts are still alive here. T should get a picture of it, and then send it to the press.

When will this end?
Has seven minutes always been this long?
No.  Of course not.
But, why now?
Why of all times is this seven minutes the longest of my life?  
Maybe the clock broke.
Maybe people don’t know how to read time.
That’s probably true!

Two grey squirrels and a whole clan of reds

Had irritated me till I thought I'd lost my head

They'd scattered my seed far and wide,

Carting it all over the countryside.

Out came the BB gun, I was going to win this fight.

No pesky little rodent was going to test my might.

And as I stared at those two grey's, choosing which went first,

With the draw of some primitive drive causing my thirst

Out of the corner of my eye a crimson color burst

A little red squirrel

Hipping and hopping

Flipping and bopping … stopping … looking

Tail dropping

From stonewall to tree.  Now where would he go?

Lots of grass between here and there

I think them grey squirrels knew

Slow, stop motion … you move with grace

Flip, flop, tail drop … head up silhouette

Closer and closer you get to that tree

You're going to climb up there, I know

So you see,

Sure as can be, you make for the tree, you burst with glee!

I made it … I made it.

I'm so close almost at hand, two against one, I have a plan.

Gonna get those seeds, man 'o man!

Higher he goes and I watch, what is he doing I wonder?

He already can see – what's that noise, screech

What could it be ….

Oh, maybe he's smarter than me!?

That little red squirrel, it's imitating a hawk

And the gray squirrels freeze … going very still.

"Ahem!" I said, a little too loudly. Roxy and Amber glanced at me. "A-Amber are you drooling?" I said. "Wha-? Oh." She muttered, wiping her chin. "I can't help it!" she whined. "Look at him!" she pointed at a dude strolling the beach. "Eh. Not that cute." Roxy said in a bored tone. "What is it with you people and hot guys?" I said with a laugh. "Oh! Look! He's coming over here!" Amber squeaked. "Oh no." I said. "Hey, cutie." Amber said softly. "Come here." "Oh god..." I muttered. Suddenly she pulled him close... And kissed him on the lips! I stared in open-mouthed, stunned silence while Roxy gagged. Suddenly, she lurched forward and threw up on the guys back! He turned around and glared at her. "Sorry ugly." Roxy muttered with a smirk.  "Dude, not cool." he growled.

The first time I saw you... I never thought we'd ever really come this far. I never thought you'd look at me the way you do. That you'd love me the way you do. I'd never imagine it'd feel this goo to be with you. Here. Now...

But now I know that I love you... And that's all I could ever ask for...

You know that feeking when you really, trul, love somebody... But it's not easy? People try to tear you apart for their own selfes reasons...? Well I do. I know it well. I've been going through it for a while now.  My name is Shiloh. I'm senior in high school... and I have a secret. A secret that no one but the one I love knows... I secret that I'm not even sure I should be trusted with. But lest start at the beginning...

It was any other normakl day. Got up, got ready, left for school. The usual. But when I parked my car and got my bag out from the back seat and flung it over my shoulder... There was someone there. Looking at me. We locked eyes. It couldn't look away. But then he was pulled away from our glance by a friend. And it was over.

I walked into the school with an image of the boy still cought in my head. It vanished as I was startled by Logan. My very best friend sence I was like 2."Hey," she said with a smile."What are you looking at?" She tryed to gollow my gaze that led nowhere... then I looked up.

"Oh... Nothing. Just spacing out. I'm tired. Didn't get alot of sleep last night." I smiled, trying to push his now appearing image out of my mind. I opened my locker, took my books out, and ploped my bag into my locker.

Guilt, Betrayal, and Death.

That summer, the trees swaying side to side with each whisp of the breeze. The lake water barley brushig aginst my feet. The warm summer air combing through my hair. Hot summer sun wrapping me in its warmth, comforting me, putting me at peace with the world for a moment. While the rest of the world was moving, I wanted to stop, make this last forever. That hopeful feeling of the school year to come, but the dreadful winter ahead. Make this moment of tranquility and peacefulness last forever. As I lay down to sleep that last night before the next day, for it brings chaos at school, I will dream of that summer.

When I was little, I was told to shoot for the stars. One day my uncle, Todd Bell, was bouncing this big ball around. I asked to use it and he said, " Yes..." Then he was laughing at me because i had never seen a basketball before. He taught me how to dribble the ball at a very young age. The next day, uncle Todd came over again. He had it! He had the basketball! He took me out into the driveway and all of a sudden i stopped. Standing next to me, was this big, tall, staue like thing with a big blob of string at the top. I walked out in front of it and just stood there looking up at it.  My uncle gave me the ball and reminded me, " Meghan, Put the ball to your chest, look up at the hoop and jump, push the ball out of your hands and push it up towards the hoop. Shoot, shoot for the stars. "I put my arms to my chest with the ball in my hands, looked up at the hoop and jumped. The ball leaped from my hands and went up towards the sky. I closed my eyes. "SWISH!!!!" Thats all that I heard. I quickly opened my eyes. " It went in!" I screamed. I did a little victory dance. Tht was my second day with a ball, and my first day shooting, or thats what i thought it was called then. My first shot, I made!!!

Open eyes, staring ahead. Cool water flows past, currents change, water falls ahead, in line with my vision. Scales sparkle, sunligjt makes them dance. Reeds tickle. Flip my fin, start a coursetowards home. Small schoo, swims past, rippling through the water. Look out for fliers! My silent message is sent, met with murmers of agreement. Memories of Fliers many sharp fins, poking to the water. Thoughts falsh. Food is needed soon. As I think, a shiny object falls in water. Is that food? I swim towards object, biting down. Pain floods my mout, I break the waters calm roof. Towering shapes lean over me, pink with blue, laghing voice. Red flashes, dissapointed sound. A shape comes down. Suddenly I am in the water, flip my fin, swim away, Splash behind me, friends arrive, I leave the area of pianful food and strange noises. My cares leave with the rushing currents. I slip away, into the darkness and safety, water rushes past. Flows in cool kindness.

i was sitting there one day playing mw3 and shot somebody in the dome and they died.!...my name is luke cionci...i am the biggest nooob in the entire world!!!!!!!....Sometimes i have good days and bad days ...but most of the time i am terrible!!

Hello there fellow gamers.. my name is annonymus but any way im here today to talk to you gamers out there about black ops and MW3. First of all I realy love MW3 I really like all there maps and there guns. But any way black ops and MW3 is awsome yea go COD............LOL I have ps3 and x box yea ps3 rules anyone wanna buy an xbox 360???

                                                My Room

                                  My room is where I hide,

                            Its where I go on adventures,

                             Where I talk to my friends,

                           It's where I leave my worries,

                                 My room is my kingdom,

                                    It's my sanctuary,

                      It's where I sleep at night and dream,

“There’s a robin. He’s here,” cried my mother this morning. But it wasn’t with the delight that you are supposed to say that as the feathered sign of spring arrives after a long, bitter winter. It was more with a fearful undertone. Like first the robin comes long before the real snowstorms have arrived, then what?

And listening, but not understanding her tone, is our little boy, all 15 months of him. The other day he said “goat.” His first word – a product of moving back to Vermont, no doubt – was “ap-ple.” Two syllables, each distinct.

I remember the snow piled high, when we grew up here in the mid-70s, 80s. Once, on Christmas, there was so much snow that – to our great delight – we didn’t have to make the drive into Burlington to go to church on Christmas eve. Instead, we watched the Nutcracker or something on television and woke up and tore open our presents, our home enveloped by feet-high snow.

Now, looking outside, there are big muddy patches of green with small patches of white. All wrong. How many days of skiing were there this year anyway? And the robin is somewhere out there, feathers puffed in some try, alongside aggressive bluejays and small, smart winter birds, thinking that summer will soon be here. What occupies his thoughts? Planning his nest? Finding a mate?

And what if the robin’s right? And this really is the last of the snow? Bring me one of those politicians from out in wherever who still unbelievably calling global warming an invention, and let them sit in our kitchen, look out the window and see that confused robin. Then we’ll talk about what’s fiction. Lonesome robin in February, what do you know that we don’t?

I left Vermont on a Thursday afternoon,headed to Connecticut. I drove down 89, to 91 past the rolling green hills into the madness of Massachusetts. I was on my way to see my mother at her retirement community in southern Ct. Somewhere in my mind,I had a sense that I would be saying goodbye to her. Even though I was not told that she was dying,she had been failing in recent weeks. I just had a feeling  this would be the end of my trips to my hometown. I arrived 5 hours later,walked into the room where she had been receiving care and knew in an instant that we wouldn't have much time together. My sister was there with her,both of them waiting for me. My sister said "Mom,Annie is here". My mother smiled a big beautiful smile,then returned to wherever she was in that time and place-unable to communicate or respond to my holding of her hand. She passed away early the next morning. Thoughts of my childhood and all the times we had together raced through my mind. So many questions: where was she now? Was she watching over us? Was she with her own parents? Someday I will have the answers.

For more years than I care to count I've wanted to be a successful writer and share some of my thoughts and experiences I've had with the natural world. I've sat in front of this computer for hours and hours, waiting for the muse to find me, fantasizing that at some point my fingers would start flying around the keyboard effortlessly, the result would be something that most people would find some interest in...

It hasn't worked out like that. Yet.

I once heard a story about someone asking Mark Twain if writing was difficult for him. His response was "No, not really. Most days I just sit in my office in front of my typewriter until little droplets of blood form on my forehead." In nearly all of my attempts at writing I can say without a shred of hesitation that my experience has been a lot like his. Writing -good, interesting writing- more often than not is a skill that does not come easily to me. Finding the right words about the right experiences can be like hunting for a four leaf clover blindfolded. But the words do eventually come; shyly at first, like the first daffodils of spring. The skill of putting words to some of my photographs is a skill that is developing over time. In my heart I know that I have what it takes to be a writer and photographer that can effectively open other's eyes to the enormous beauty of the world and our journeys through it. The effort is slowly but surely coalescing in what will be my first book, 'Coming Home to the Heart of Nature'. It's exciting and terrifying at the same time. Now to get up the gumption to submit my stuff to a publisher to see if they want to run with it. I'd do better if a publisher would come looking for me. First I need to wipe the blood off my forehead...

www.quietlightvermont.com/book/

Sarah was trying so hard to get me to go with her, but I couldn’t get me to do it. “Come on, it won’t be that bad. Just because you are jealous doesn’t mean you have to ruin my relationship.” She whined. My boyfriend broke up with me the other day, by text.

Sarah had gotten asked out that day, by the same guy. She really wants me to go with her and Alex to the dance, but it will be so awkward. I can’t stand waiting around to see someone else get what I want, more like what I deserve. She is one of those people who like to take things that upset you and rub them in. the other day, my dog died. The next day after I told her, she told me that she made her mom get her a new puppy. The part is, it was the same kind of dog. Who does that?

The day of the dance she really got up in my face. “PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEASE!” is all she yelled at me all day. I really wanted to say yes, because this guy asked me to the dance. Going to the dance with a guy that is way hotter than Alex would make Sarah cry. She deserves a little” slap to the face” every one in a while to get her back into reality, if you know what I mean. She needs to get a sense of how I feel, or even just a little.

Chapter 1 into space...

It was 3:07 A.M. it was launch time Max the chimp was ready for blast off 10... 9... 8... 7... 6... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1...   BLAST OFF!!!  The flames burst out of the rocket. Smoke was everywhere.  30 miles high now 50 100 then it was it max was in space he new his assignment be the frist thing to go on Mars.  He drove the rocket thousands of miles finaly he saw mars he was ready to land.  He got the gears ready he landed the rocket.  Then he saw far away something green but he couldn't make it out.

The new green leaves rustle in the sound of whistling wind as rain trickles down the trunk of an old sycamore tree.  All the animals make a symphony of different sounds like tweeting birds and prancing deer all at once while frogs do their part. They combine to make a noise as if whispering a secret to me. A slight crack in the clouds allows the sun to poke his shiny rays out lighting up the whole city.

Pretty snow flakes swerl around.  Up than down and alabout.  Big or small huge or tinny. 

  Dont matter dont matter.Falling high falling low to the side and up again.  To the side and up again and again.Snow flakes how pretty you are!

         Gosh, if there was a contest for the most clumsiest person in Vermont I would win. The reason why I think I would win is because most of my child hood stories I am getting hurt. There are alot of stories that my mom told me but I am only going to share my three of my favorite stories.

         The first sory my mom told was when I had a pet rat my dad told me to kiss our pet rat through the cage that he was in. Of course I did because I was only five years old and when I was that age I thought that I had to listen to my parents no matter what they said. So when I went to kiss the rat he bit my lip. The only reason why he bit my lip was because that is how my family fed him treats, was through the cage. To this day I still have the scar from where the rat bit my lip.

         Another story that my mom told me was that one day my mom and my Aunt Hiedi was talking outside about moving my bed away from the window for my safety. As they were talking I was in my room sitting on my bed opening my wondow. I finally got the window open. I sat on the windowsill after I got the window opened. My mom and Aunt Hiedi was looking at my bedroom window as I leaned back and I fell out of my window and landed outside on the grass. Luckly my dad has just took the medal bar off the trailer or I would of have smacked my head off of that medal bar.

   "I want to go home" you say in that childlike voice.

Your fear screams from your eyes as I change you once again.

   "I know" is all I can say, but it seems to be enough to comfort you for the moment.

   You grab my face in your hands and say "I love you", and know it is not me you see. It is

someone from so many years ago, your own child perhaps. Then again you drift away.

   As I watch the distance take you, I imagine an antique keyhole there on your forehead. The

key is in my my hand. It fits so perfectly and turns with no effort. The person you once were

stands in front of me, proud and strong.

   Another voice in the room "I want to go home".

Speed,

Wind blows in my face,

The slic snow under my skis,

Pure velocity.

Focused,

On the jump ahead,

My pulse rings in my ears,

Adrenaline rush.

Dialed in,

I rise up the jump,

Wind up for a spin,

Lift off.

Silence,

I twirl through the air.

An epic crossed tail grab,

Flight.

Gravity,

The wind takes me where it wants to,

A blur of whites and blacks,

Freedom.

Awaken,

I let go of my left ski,

The blurriness becomes clear,

Gravity takes over.

“schishhh,”

My skis flop down against the snow,

A smile arks my face,

Accomplishment.

One nice spring day I went for a walk, I saw the most amazing thing ever!!! It was so cute, and pretty, and soft, and it licked me. When I saw it, it was a puppy!! I picked it up and kissed it and loved it. I brought it to my yard. We played  then we ran all around the yard – we had so much fun. But then I turned my back to tie my shoe. When I turned back around he was gone! I called for him and hollered and hooted and whistled, but I couldn’t find him. I cried and lay down on the grass. All of a sudden I felt a warm tongue on me, and it was him! I called him Snowball, because he was so cute. Then my parents came home. They asked “where did you get him from?”

I said, “Well, I saw him on the street. Can we pleeease keep him?”

My Dad said, “Well…um…I guess so.”

Then I shouded, “Yay, yay, yay…woohooo - yeah!”

Hughie, our Vizsla, was hogging the foot of the bed as usual.  It was just after midnight, and the winter wind was howling outside the windows; I could envision the tall pines swaying and the old oak creaking as it leaned against the house roof.  Hughie started whining, a whine that I couldn't ignore; he was a puppy after all, and so far he was "trained" to do his business outdoors.  I stepped into my slippers saying, "Come on, boy," and quietly descended the stairs.  Fumbling around in the hall closet, I grabbed the first coat that I touched.  It engulfed me, my husband's old down parka I was guessing.

A bad day today at school
This girl who think she's oh so cool
Convinced a teacher to change all the rules

I hate all the fuss this girl causes
The wars she starts, I think I'm living in Gaza
Then she and her bestie want all the applauses

She's constantly mean and petty
Always contriving some vendetti
She makes me want to hurl my spaghetti

She's been number one in this school for years
But last Friday she couldn't hold back her tears
And for that the teacher has his own fears

So, no more this dramatic soap opera play
It surely has been one helluva day
Graduation can't come soon enough, I don't want to stay!

up

I'm sorry. I never heard of Sinclair Lewis until the post went up on this site about today's writing event.

I am not sure I am ready to read a Nobel Prize winner for Literature yet either.

I had to look him up.

I found out he was from Minnesota.  Been there.

He went to Oberlin Prep (part of Oberlin College).  Been there.

He went to Yale University.  Been there many times, music, drama productions, football games, etc.

He worked for several newspapers in Carmel, CA.  Been there many times.

He spent time in a rehab center in Stockbridge, MA. Been to Stockbridge, not rehab!

He later moved to Washington DC.  Been there a lot too. Next summer for Teen Congress, I will make sure to go to his home.

He died in Rome. Been there.

For as many things as I have in common with this man, I knew nothing, absolutely nothing until a few days ago.