Man 48

 The guilt eats at me every time I make up another silly excuse.

"Another bowling night?" my wife Stacey complains, "Why don't you ever just want to stay at home with me anymore?"

"Babe I promised Luther we'd get in some practice before the final tournament." Another work of fiction.

I barely got out of their alive

Lisa is the relatively new secretary at the office, and I was the lucky man that got to show

her around. As we walked down the long hallways, and I showed her the ropes, I felt like a little boy as I glanced at her sheepishly. I think I may have even blushed, especially when she kissed my cheek as a thank you for showing her around. Driving home after that wasn't the easiest task, my thoughts were clouded with her laugh, her smile…even her beautiful voice. Getting away from Stacey so that I could be alone in our bedroom to call her was even harder. Not only did I have to lie a lot, but I had to deal with the hurt in my wife's  eyes. 

 Stacey's eyes…in the moment that Lisa leaned in to hug me, I stepped back with my hands up high.

"Lisa nobody at work has to know…alright?"

     As my words slowly sank in, so did the pain in this other woman's eyes. Am I a monster of some sort? Without saying anything paced backward out the door, and practically ran to the parked car. As soon as I started driving I deliberated on whether to tell Stacey the truth, I mean it's what she deserved, she was my beautiful, wonderful, pregnant, wife. But  what if she was so angry at me, that she ended our relationship and filed for divorce? My last thoughts before my entire body went into panic mode had something to do with how I'd never ever want to be apart from my Stacey.

Authors note: This really isn't my best work, I kind of started writing and this is what it turned into. I suppose it might be classified as a short story but I don't really know.

    The memory is different this time. Usually memories become old and worn over the years, but the memory of the pit is still fresh in my mind. I can still feel the rats crawling up my neck, down my shirt, nipping at my skin. I shudder as I think of the horrific darkness that consumed me in that chamber. I shouldn't have even been subjected to such living hell in the first place…. Some people say that life isn't fair, and I have to agree, but what could I have done to deserve torture to that extremity? As I lay on this creaky, dusty bed and reminisce about that awful period of time, I am silently grateful that I have never fallen back down into a pit of any kind. After that particular experience I appreciated life much more, eventually married and had my daughter Violet. But I was never able to escape the pendulum, nobody can, as I slowly come to peace with the fact that the pendulum is inescapable I whisper my last goodbye.

Tell-Tale Heart POV

Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Tell-Tale Heart” was told by an insane narrator. Through this character’s point of view you get the idea that everything is sort of blown out of proportion with this guy. I don’t think we can trust this narrator at all, because like I said before he is so dramatic about everything, and he is obviously mentally unstable. Through his eyes, we are the predator, and we don’t really get to experience the fear that the old man felt.

Now if the poor and helpless old man was telling the story, we would probably be reading about the extreme fear, and then pain he feels as he is crushed by the bed. Not that we don’t already pity the old man, but if we read this story from his view, we would probably pity him even more. This would probably be a much more gruesome story if it were told from this point.

I heard the crash at around midnight. As soon as I sat up in bed, I knew that I wasn’t alone. I wished desperately that I could see out of both eyes, so that it might be easier to look about in the dark. It became obvious very quickly that I would never fall asleep, or move for that matter, for I was completely frozen in fear. I let out a small and pitiful groan, and wouldn’t dare lie back down. As the time wore on I could feel and hear my heart beating louder and faster, until I feared that whatever was in here with me would hear it. I wonder if the predator found it amusing. All of a sudden I heard the door creak open a little wider, and before I knew what happened I had been pinned to the ground. I looked up into the eyes of the person that I had least expected this to be, but at the same time I had always known. The only thing I could do was keep from screaming as he crushed me with my own bed.

Poem Response

EVERYTHING YOU HAVE TO PAY FOR THIS DAYS

Everything you have to pay for this days
Like a bottle of water
If you want to drink it
And I believe that is insane to pay for a bottle of water
Because the water that you buy is not 100% pure
Half of the water that you drink is bottle water and the other half is tap Water
But the water that you get out from your tap is just as good as the water
That you buy in the store
Why? 
Because the water from the tap at home you don't have to pay for it
And you can drink as much as you like 

One reason I really enjoy the poem “Everything you Have to Pay for These Days, is because it is very straightforward. Sometimes when I’m reading something I don’t want to have to think around all the figurative language. I also really like the message this poem is sending out, it’s basically questioning why we pay for water at the store, when it costs nothing out of our tap and we can have as much as we like. The speaker of this poem had a very wise tone and voice to it and it is almost a little smart alecy. Overall I really enjoyed this poem and believe it gives you something to think about.

Mother to Son Response

The poem “Mother to Son” by Langston Hughes is basically one large metaphor. It is talking about how one can compare life to a staircase; you are always climbing to the top, but the staircase itself determines the kind of climb you will have. When this mother tells her son that life for her has not been a crystal stair, she is saying her life hasn’t been as flawless and simple as crystal. Instead she describes her staircase as stairs with tacks, splinters, and torn up boards, which is basically saying that she has had a life full of obstacles and pain. I think the Mother’s tone was firm yet loving with her son. This kid could have been complaining about how his life was so difficult and labored, when really he didn’t realize how easy he had it compared to his dear old mother. I felt a little ungrateful as I read this, because I’m sure most people in our grade, including me, think their teenage lives are so unfair, when they really don’t know what they have compared to other people.

Mike Noonan: Second Rate Author and Part Time Ghost Hunter

                In my own soon to be thirteen years of life, I’ve never suffered any majorly tragic losses. Sure my on and off sick grandparents, that were in fact so sick that I never got to know them, have passed but nobody that I need to have with me at almost all times has passed. I still have the one person that I can always count on for almost anything that comes to mind, Mike Noonan doesn’t. His wife Johanna died of a stroke on a hot day, in the pharmacy parking lot; while she was pregnant. If this were to happen to myself, I can’t imagine what kind of affects this would have on me, and it practically tears apart poor Mike’s life. But Johanna’s widowed husband is strong, and he faces a lot in the few years proceeding her death.

                If you are deathly afraid of heights, and you climb a wall at Adventure Rock anyway you are being brave: if you are an avid rock climber and climb a wall at Adventure Rock you are not being brave. This proves that Mike Noonan is an extremely brave man. He is not an avid ghost hunter, but he hunts the supernatural anyway. After some strange and terrifying dreams about his old lake house “Sara Laughs” Mike returns there to settle his mind. I think any normal person would want to stay away from somewhere if they were having dreams about a place in which they are attacked by a strangely lumpy monster. The simple will to go back to the house in the first place is courageous. Right when Mike walks through that door, the hauntings begin. He literally is engulfed in the sound of a young child’s tears as soon as his steps echo into the house. But does he leave? No he stays and witnesses refrigerator magnets move themselves, “Bunter’s Bell” ringing, and more tears from a little boy. Mike goes to sleep every night, knowing that some potentially dangerous creatures are watching him. Does he just ignore these terrifying spirits? No he talks to them through the refrigerator magnets. If you reflect in on yourself, you have to admit you probably wouldn’t be brave enough to withstand any of these things, but second rate author Mike Noonan can.    

                After a few days on the TR Mike runs into the potential cure for his grieving; Mattie Devore and her daughter Kyra. The lovely (and young) Mattie has also been recently widowed by her husband Lance, and the two eventually turn to each other for comfort. I’m sure they loved each other in a friendly way, but not in the passionate way that they both used to feel. When Mattie offers to house Mike for a night he refuses multiple times, and even when he accepts her offer he is reluctant. Lust was a big factor in Mike and Mattie’s relationship, and you’d think that because of how much he admired her physical attributes that he would be more eager. He isn’t though and I believe that this is because his heart is still Jo’s. One line in the book mentions a moment where Mike realizes that he has to have Jo, and no one else can hold a candle to her. It is possible that death was a good ending for Mattie because of this, just for the reason that I Mike really didn’t feel much more besides a good friendship, and a lot of lust.

                Mike lost more than just his wife on the day of her death: he lost his unborn child too. If there’s one thing Mike yearns for almost half as much as his late wife, it is to be a parent. And to know that he came so close absolutely kills him. This is similar to Rosalie Hale from the Twilight series. She would do anything to be able to live again and have a child, but unfortunately for her it isn’t possible. To cope with this she basically becomes Bella’s child’s second mother. Having a child is also a dream of the past for Mike, so he becomes almost a father figure to little Kyra. Both of these characters both find alternatives for their baby dreams. Kyra fills the empty space that has been left in Mike, and he needs her more than she needs him.

                Who knew that one event like that could snowball so much? Obviously Mike’s life would never be the same in the first place, but so much more happened that can never get reversed. For unfortunate Mike the grieving may never end, he may be forever tortured by his memories. If I were to lose someone like that my life would be changed forever, just never as drastically as Mike’s.

Identity

                In life one thing that everyone has is an identity. It can simply be their name, or something they’re known for, their “claim to fame” works too. Not everyone is simply born into a label, sometimes people struggle for years to find who they are; and it’s not a walk in the park if that’s what you’re going through. If one thing is worse than no identity, it’s the dreaded bad identity. If you are given a bad reputation you are usually shunned by your fellow coworkers, neighbors, or in Melinda Sordino’s case classmates. In the novel “Speak” Melinda was the victim of a sexual assault that changed her life, and her identity. Everyone struggles with their identity, and it doesn’t always pay off.

                Finding an identity is hard enough for the students of Merryweather high school, without the constant change of their mascot. Before the end of “Speak” the high school changes their team name at least five times. They go through many diverse titles such as the “Blue Devils” and the “Wombats” before finally settling on the “Hornets,” the “Horny Horny Hornets.” To be honest the students would have an easier time with their personal identities if they could at least say something along the lines of “Hi my name is Jenna Anderson and I go to Pewaukee High School, home of the Pirates.” An identity less school just makes things harder for everyone, especially since almost everyone that attends Merry Weather high school is searching for something to call themselves. This wacky high school is utterly missing an identity.

                Another identity seeking being in this novel is the new girl Heather from Ohio. She wants her name to be known by everyone in school, and in all the right ways. Heather is a dreamer, she wants more than just to fit in, she wants to stand out. The only thing keeping her from achieving these hopes is her rather eccentric personality. Merryweather doesn’t always accept new kids, especially ones with hopeful and bubbly personalities like Heather. The only group that will accept her is one that will treat her as a pet, someone to just do all they’re work for them. Like so many other things in this book Heather is without identity.

                Some things aren’t without identity, they just exceed it, and the art curriculum at Merryweather does this. The teacher Mr. Freeman gives them one word to branch off of; otherwise they are completely free to do whatever they want. When something has no restrictions, requirements, or obstacles can it really have an identity? In Mr. Freeman’s room there is no identity, the artist can be whoever they want, and they can create whatever they want. There is no identity in Mr. Freeman’s room, and that is one of the only places where it’s ok.

                Almost every person, every object, and every place has an identity. Identities are one of the most important things in life if you think about it. Everybody wants to be known, everybody wants people to think good of them, but that doesn’t always happen. You can never choose your identity, but you can do something to change it, as Melinda has. Melinda is now stronger and happier than she was after her assault; this girl has truly improved her life. At some point everyone accepts themselves for who they are, and by that time everyone should be satisfied with their identity.