The Mistake Choice

The Mistake Choice

When I was a child, 9 year old, my house had burned down to ashes.  We had found the person who burned down my house.  The person that burned the house is irrelevant. I am now 12 years old; to this day I remember every detail of the story.

                It was the afternoon of the day I would lose my parents in the fire. I would also lose my older sister that day too. We had owned a small farmland in Virginia. Our family lived in a log cabin. We were a very happy family. It was a peacefully sunny day, the birds were chirping, there was no harsh wind, not a cloud insight. The kind of day you feel nothing could go wrong.

                I went to the town market with my older sister to go buy some meat for dinner. I skipped along to the market town. The market town was known for its delicious meat, as well as its gossips.  My sister and I were given some warnings from fellow friends about an impostor running into the woods behind our house with a pistol.  We had decided to tell the warning to our parents when we reached home. Although, they suggested we immediately tell them. After we bought some meat, we left to go home. It was getting late, so we hurriedly walked home.

                We were too late! The house was in flames, my sister tried attacking the man who lit the house, but she got shot. Right after that, a mob came with torches, rakes, and other farming tools came running toward the man. He was slaughtered shortly later.

                I now live with my aunt and uncle. I no longer live in Virginia but in Pennsylvania. That day I had learned when someone gives you a suggestion, listen to the suggestion, especially when they are trying to help you. I always think, if I gave my parents the warning when the elderly told me to tell them, would they still be alive? I am filled with regret.

When I was a child, 9 year old, my house had burned down to ashes.  We had found the person who burned down my house.  The person that burned the house is irrelevant. I am now 12 years old; to this day I remember every detail of the story.

                It was the afternoon of the day I would lose my parents in the fire. I would also lose my older sister that day too. We had owned a small farmland in Virginia. Our family lived in a log cabin. We were a very happy family. It was a peacefully sunny day, the birds were chirping, there was no harsh wind, not a cloud insight. The kind of day you feel nothing could go wrong.

                I went to the town market with my older sister to go buy some meat for dinner. I skipped along to the market town. The market town was known for its delicious meat, as well as its gossips.  My sister and I were given some warnings from fellow friends about an imposter running into the woods behind our house with a pistol.  We had decided to tell the warning to our parents when we reached home. Although, they suggested we immediately tell them. After we bought some meat, we left to go home. It was getting late, so we hurriedly walked home.

                We were too late! The house was in flames, my sister tried attacking the man who lit the house, but she got shot. Right after that, a mob came with torches, rakes, and other farming tools came running toward the man. He was slaughtered shortly later.

                I now live with my aunt and uncle. I no longer live in Virginia but in Pennsylvania. That day I had learned when someone gives you a suggestion, listen to the suggestion, especially when they are trying to help you. I always think, if I gave my parents the warning when the elderly told me to tell them, would they still be alive? I am filled with regret.

Stuck in an Elevator

Stuck in an Elevator

Ronith Ranjan

Oh no! The elevator has broken down.

“What are we going to do?” yelled the gymnast in the elevator.

“We are doomed” screamed the muscular man

The clown’s smile turned into a frown.

“Calm down everybody!” I requested.

Everyone except me was in a panic mode.

“The department is closed till 7 in the morning tomorrow.

“Try calling the police.” I told everybody

Right as I told everybody, everyone took their phone out.

“They don’t work!” they shouted together.

“I got an idea!” I exclaimed “Break the ceiling muscular man. When he is done breaking the ceiling, climb up to the 4th floor I said to the gymnast and you clown make that frown upside down”

We all started to work together. When the muscular man broke the ceiling, the gymnast started to climb the rope wire. She then pried open the doors.

I yelled “Go to the police and tell them we are stuck.”

Later when we got rescued, we told the whole story to the police. We told every detail of the story. They then fixed the elevator. It turned out the pulley was dented, so the rope wire couldn’t move through. That day I learned with teamwork you can achieve many goals.

Six Word Memoir

I'm actually really smart.  I promise!

Turning Abstract into Concrete

Turning Abstract into Concrete

Abstract: A Hairbrush

Concrete: The aged wooden beauty tool was resting on the table of the vanity dresser. Its painted white outline fit perfectly and complimented the color of the vanity mirror. Some bristles decayed but the ones still standing were still aligned to caress each strand of the girls hair.

Paradise

                The roaring, everlasting waves clash with the resistant sand. The shells, a neutral party are constantly being taken by both sides. Seabirds duck down like airplanes touching down only to lift off again once they accomplished their goal. Tourists are everywhere, in the water splashing around and against the scorching sand, reeking of cheap sunblock. Assorted beach towels and umbrellas litter the beach, adding in every color of the rainbow. Children run, laughing and throwing sand while parents carefully track their kid’s location. The sun gives off more heat today than any other day we’ve been here. The water’s icy chill is now a refresher and the dry, thirsty sand is to be avoided.

                Exhilaration floods through me as I jog into the forceful waves. Blonde hair turns brown as water and sand inhabit my hair. A used to be damp, multicolored swimsuit became soaked and hanged loosely. My sister’s shriek of excitement and fear rushes to my ear as I watch her take on a massive wave. She lost and was pulled underwater. As she ran to receive as hot towel, she batted at her eyes and struggled to reach my family’s location.

                Hawaii was a dream. Every day there was something different to do and I found myself to be making myself at home in this island of paradise. Throughout the week, we went snorkeling, swimming, eating shopping, and accomplishing all of the tourist occasions with my cousins. Today, at the beach, was our last day and we intended to make the most of it.

                “Rachel, Rachel,” my younger sister, Sammy, shouted. “Where are you?” She was scanning the ocean, trying to find where she had left.

                “Over here,” I waved my arms frantically and her face lit up in recognition. She ran and hopped over, evading being knocked down yet again.

                Once she reached me, we continued to swim for a while as sunlight slowly bled out. We crashed on top of water and giggled as the other looked like a fool. Later, we reached the time of dinner and walked reluctantly back to the welcoming hotel. Starving, we changed quickly and efficiently. I showered and dressed up nicely with a dress.

                We ate at a fancy restaurant serving seafood and assorted expensive foods. I enjoyed the meal, but not as much as my sister did. She loved seafood immensely. After begging my parents repeatedly, Sammy and I convinced our parents to go on a night walk. We planned to collect shells and search for crabs.

                “Remember; only take the shells you really want. We can’t take all of them on the plane,” my mother warned. Being young at the time, I nodded eagerly. However, I still anticipated collecting a plentiful supply of seashells.

                We proceeded the dinner with the usual small talk. “I liked Hawaii very much,” Sammy explained. I nodded and continued her thought.

                “Sometime we should come back.” I added, hopeful of another guaranteed visit.

                “Maybe,” was all my mother said while my dad looked rather doubtful. This, nevertheless did not kill my light mood.

                The check was paid for, we skipped dessert and drove in our black rental car. The sleek black carpet in the car was now turned to a black and white dotted color from all the sand brought into it. We arrived at the hotel, somewhat exhausted, but adrenaline still rushing. We rushed up, to only proceed down twenty minutes later, all equipped for our beach walk.

                The moon had risen and taken the place of the sun, lighting our way. Samantha and I sprinted ahead, collecting every shell in sight. We decided to focus on the now, avoiding the fact that tomorrow we would have to leave our little paradise.

Check the Stairs

Marin stood, watching the waves, anxious to see the contrast of the black on tan. “Auuugh! That was my favorite pair!” She spun and glared at Chad, who held his hands up in mock surrender.

“H-hey, now! I was just teasing you,” He chuckled. “Don’t take it so seriously.” His sun-kissed, blonde hair swung like a mop as he shook his head.

                “You’re just so… Humph!”  Marin turned back to the ocean, hoping the tide would help the search more when it was high. She heard Chad snort, but didn’t bother to turn around, not wanting him to win. “What?”

                “Oh,” Chad sighed. ”I was just wondering what I should do with this pair of girls’ flip-flops that were ever so casually in my back pocket.” Marin hastily looked back at him, her rage flaring at the sight of the sandals. She ran to him, prepared to swing if need be.

                “Give me back my shoes, you jerk!” She went to snatch them out of his hands, but he moved them out of her arms’ reach. “Hey!”

                “Now, now, Marin. What’s the magic move?” Chad taunted, waving the shoes above Marin’s head. She pouted as she looked up at his face, her eyes shooting daggers into his. Then, a coy smile played across her lips, and her eyes softened slightly.

                “What do you have in mind?” She twirled a lock of her dark, wet hair. Sand and salt scratched her fingers, but she didn’t show it.

                Chad looked down at her, but then he too relaxed, falling for her flirty demeanor. “Well, you could give me a kiss.” Mischief played in his eyes.

                Marin glanced around the beach. It was somewhat empty, with only a few other teenagers strolling around in packs. “Well, come here then,” she said as sweetly as she could. She puckered her lips slightly. “I can’t reach up there.”

                Chad smiled, and leaned closer to Marin’s face. They were so close, their noses could almost touch. Marin laughed softly.

                “Gotcha,” she snickered. Chad sent her a confused look, but it suddenly changed to pain as Marin’s foot went to kick him in the stomach, but the point of impact was a little too low. As he keeled over onto the sandy ground, Marin stole her flip-flops from his now weakened grip. She quickly put the shoes on her feet and giggled at the sight of Chad in pain. He responded by firmly grabbing her ankle and pulling her down next to him in the sand. They looked at each other and laughed. They kept going even after a lifeguard came over to see if they were okay, and stayed there until sunset.

                Marin got up on her elbows. “So wait. I saw you throw something into the waves. If it wasn’t my shoes, what was it?” She stared at his face. Chad furrowed his brows.

                “Oh. Well, um… those were actually my shoes…” Chad covered his face with his hands. “And my parents will freak if I lose them. It’s the 17^th pair this year.” He groaned.

                Marin looked out at the water. The tide had come in significantly since they had first collapsed on the sand. “Tide’s in. That gives your shoes a couple hours’ head start on you,” She coyly smiled at him. Marin pushed off the ground and rose to her feet. “You might want to get started on that ASAP.”

                Chad groaned, before rising to his feet as well. The two dusted the sand off themselves. “Wanna help?” Chad asked, hopeful.

                Marin checked her phone. “I can’t. Curfew is in, like, 5 minutes. That’s barely enough time to get home. I’d stay, but, well… you remember last time, right?”

“…Right.”

Marin sent him a mischievous smile. “They can’t be too far, can they? Text me when you find them,” She called over her shoulder as she turned and walked towards the boardwalk stairs.

“See ya!” Chad waved, before turning to the blue ocean. He quickly sent a text to his parents, warning them that he may be coming home late due to… “Issues”. They understood.

“Laters,” Marin answered as, step by step, she neared the stairs. The next thing she heard was a satisfying splash!  as Chad made his way out to sea in a desperate search for his sandals. She pulled a pair of young men’s sandals out of her shirt that she found earlier in the surf. Two can play this game, she thought as she carefully placed them at the top of the stairs, knowing fully well Chad would see them on his way home.

After checking to see if he left his phone on the sand while he searched, Marin texted Chad. “Check the stairs!”

Magnet Poetry #2: "Always Known Grace"

There is a boy who loves this girl

With hair as gold as grain

And the singing voice of a bird.

Oh, what a beauty she is,

Her gracious manners,

Her light walk,

Her soft, airy dress.

The boy wants her,

This princess,

This goddess,

This angel,

Because she, like many others,

Has always known grace.

Magnet Poetry: "Summertime"

 I am sleepless,
Tossing and turning in bed,

Hungry for the summertime.

I want the morning mist,

Playtime with friends,

The burning sun shining on my tan skin,

The thick evergreen forests near the lake,

Swimming in the sea,

The monstrous thunderstorms and pounding rain,

And, when the day is done,

I gaze longingly at the luminous moon.

This is the summertime I’m yearning for.

Fire Truck

I’d like to be a fire truck,

All red and sirens wailing.

I’d like to be a fire truck,

To put out blazes raging.

To save unfortunate people

From their own stupidity.

I’d like to be a fire truck.

And that’s just what I’ll be.

The Pasture

Little hands grasp a halter,

Leading it along.

The gentle giant falters,

Before continuing on.

Little lips smile,

Revealing little teeth.

She would walk for miles

On her little feet

To feel the gentle wind

Upon her little face,

To ride this gentle giant

Would be a nice change of pace.

Softly bumping her back,

A black coat shines

And the little girl knows

“Someday he will be mine.”

The Lamp Post

I’d like to be a lamp post

With fresh black paint and a burning light

I’d like to be a lamp post

Guarding against the night

I’d like to be a lamp post

Standing tall and proud

I’d like to be a lamp post

Protector of the street

Burning bright before all that I meet.

Magnet Sentences

- My never curious faction, hence the banal language
- The sky as a sad, dreamless sculpture, never with bitter pictures
- Soaring away from language
- Say crazy lies
- The best thing to think about is
- Every beautiful night that life
- My almost mellifluous society

The Shot

The tiger was a bullet, shot from a sniper and fired by an expert marksman.  It just kept running for its prey until impact. If it misses, it will keep going, circling back into the shade to reload and await another clear shot.

Lake Imagery

The rejected lake waited longingly for company like a dog waiting for it's master. It missed the silver, darting fish and the pale green algae. This once paradise was now uninhabitable; it's water's murky and brown. Pollutants were now it's only occupant. But that didn't stop the lake from waiting patiently.

Magnetic Poem One

Our faithful companion,
My sweet puppy.
We will always cherish how you
Begged for food
Howled at the moon
Panted while running and
Always wagged your tail.
My little friend,
I will remember you.

Burning House poem

...Burning...
My house melts into flames.
The fire creeps toward me,
This is distress, and I am the dame.

Ash and smoke cloud my vision,
Not that it really matters.
I'd rather die
Than hear the clatters.

The children are in the kitchen,
Throwing pots and pans all around.
"Surely this will put it out,"
They must think as they make messy sound.

I can feel the flames,
They're trying to take my body.
My skin is peeling under the heat,
My bones, cracking out of me.

The last of my senses are starting to go.

The house is crumbling,
Burnt woods fills my nose.
As I lick my tortured, dry lips,
I think of the rose.

It started this all.

As my body gives in,
I'm working up the courage to give a final shout.
I hear the children's shrieks
as the pans run out.

"Help! Someone! Anybody! Please!" I cry.
Tears evaporate the second they release.
Snap, go twigs outside the door
"I'm sorry, okay?! Help! Please?"

Snowball - 50 word entry

Frozen water, caking every surface, flat and smooth, until it is grazed. Taken, packed, molded, sculpted, and hardened. A perfect sphere of crystallized snowflakes suspended in a snow globe, perpetually frozen. Held in the thick, warm gloves of a child, ever so slowly dripping to its icy brethren.

Like a magnet

My simile

I am like a magnet. I am attracted to some things, but not others. The things I am attracted to I quickly approach.The things I am not attracted to, I push away.

Conjuring a Dog Bowl With Words

The cylindrical, hallowed piece of cheap plastic was plopped on the dull linoleum.  Its toddler’s-toy-blue surface was dotted with reflections from the florescent bulbs on the kitchen ceiling.  There were bite marks on the rim; the shape scarred deeply, marking the territory of Scruff. 

Jackets and Dads

My dad is like a jacket to me. He protects me from the cold. Jackets make sure the people who wear them are warm when it is cold. Whenever I go outside and it is cold, my jacket is there to make me warm. Wherever I go my jacket comes with me. My dad takes me places and stays with me and never leaves my side. Jackets can hold things when your hands are full. My dad always helps me when I need it.

The Shot

The tiger was a bullet shot from a sniper fired for an expert marksman.  It just kept running for its prey until impact.  For then it stops. If it misses it will keep going.  Then it goes back in the shade to reload, waiting for another clear shot.

The Switch

Our friendship is a light-switch .It is on when we're using it and it is off when we are not. it gives power for the light-bulb, just as our friendship gives power to our life. it tells us when to turn on and off when we have to. unfortunately, at one time, every friendship dies, just like the battery in the light-switch. however, there is always another battery that will help the light shine again.

Knowledge is a small sapling.  It blossoms into something beautiful, growing every day and becoming stronger.  But, that sapling can bring joy and change to the world.

Spilt Words

                A black cup that knocks over allowing its contents to spill across the surface is just like my journal which allows it to let the words come out and shine. The black leather journal that occupies my lonely tan desk spills its contents to me. The words flow out like a tipped glass. Black, blue, and red ink takes over the pages, making an unknown drawing. Anyone who dares to lift the cover is overwhelmed with a whirlwind of words known as my journal. 

Ball Point

My marks are like business pens. Every move I do is so important. Every wrong move is undoable.  My moves can be dirty. Or they can be elegant and pretty too.  Whiteout is my mistake eraser. Doesn’t fade away, but fixes part of the mistake. My apology is just like whiteout.