Everyday is different
That growing seed
Bigger and bigger
Changing every part of her
She is strong
She waters the seed
Everyday is different
She is hurting
Days--Weeks--Months
It’s dragging on
She loves her seed
So hard
Everyday is different
One step closer to another
The love for the seed grows
The seed grows
Growing as one
Changing bodies
Forming a bond
Everyday is different
10 weeks left
Everyday will forever be different
He stands in front of me
The way he looks
Hands black hair a mess
Tired and ready for slumber
Yet he doesn’t stop
He doesn’t stop working
He doesn’t stop loving
He gives, gives, and gives
For our unit
He is unstoppable
Hands black hair a mess
He leaves me breathless
Feeling lucky
Nothing else matters
Forever is on its way
Hands black hair a mess
Caring about everyone
Putting himself last
Wanting to be the best I can
For him who leaves me breathless
So I take care of his black hands
I take care of his mess of hair
All he does for me for us
Forever is on its way
Short story:
Hello, I am small. I am so clingy. I think I am a baby, but I’m just a dog. Well, maybe not just a dog. I have taught my “mom” that she has to give me attention for me to be a good girl. I need attention or I will poop on the floor. I don’t really care what she thinks because she knows I need her attention.
Mom put peanut butter in my toy and as I got distracted I looked up and she was gone. My mom wasn’t in the house. I don’t know what I did wrong? I was just licking up my butter. Was I not supposed to? Now I am sad, and crying and I know the neighbors can hear me. I guess all I can do is play with my toys and take a nap. I hope she comes home. I love my momma.
I wake up to the sound of keys at the door. In walks my mom with a ton of bags with food in there, I’m not sure why she got all of that. I can’t eat any of it. I only eat my stupid dog food. I’m probably going to go pout because this isn’t fair. She yells my name and I slowly approach her. SHE HANDS ME A NEW TOY. My momma is the best momma. She always comes home with a new toy, but my tiny brain gets overwhelmed and I forget.
My dad always is at work and I miss him very much all day. My momma is great and she takes care of me well, but my dad gives me the best cuddles. I miss my daddy. It’s only one o’clock in the afternoon, and I know I won’t see him until around seven o’clock. Which in my time, it seems like days. Dad makes my momma happy and we always the best time, just the three of us. My momma has a big round belly and keeps telling me about my brother. I don’t think I need a brother. I don’t think my parents need anyone else to take care of. I take up all of their attention and it sort of hurts my feelings that they want someone else around. I hope he’s not going to pull on my big ears, I might have to nibble his toes.
My momma and dad always tell me that they love me. Today I realized how happy my parents make me, even when I don’t think things are going well. My days are long, but I get taken care of so very well. I could still be locked up at the pet store in the mall. I could still be alone wanting someone to adopt me. I love being here. I currently live in an apartment. Dad and momma have been working on a big farmhouse for all of us to move into. I have so much more room to run. I have a lake I can jump into, but I gotta make sure my life jacket is on or I will drown. Momma wouldn’t like it if that happened. I am momma’s best friend.
I am such a happy pup. I love my life. I love my people. I love my toys. I have such a good life. I am a pup but I am a real life baby too. I am so thankful to be where I am.
Classmate’s work 2:
Story:
The scenery was nothing like they had seen before. It was so enchanting that it appeared to be a mirage, a painting they had mistakenly walked into. All the tree’s leaves were at the perfect point of orange and red, as if they were candy. The air had the distinct pleasurable smell of dying leaves and wet dirt. It filled their souls with determination for the days that followed. The trail in front of them was long and winding, and was a pale wheat color. It looked freshly walked over, as to remove the guilt of the travelers for being in a place that appeared so remote and untouched.
They arrived at the entrance, and the leading actress began to make a fuss about how they were not to destroy any of the nature there, as she lit her cigarette. She gestured drunkenly to the glory of the outdoors, exclaiming how they would never have another opportunity to see anything so beautiful again! So, the multiple cars pulled over at the entrance, in front of them a long winding road and a large wooden sign, engraved with the word, “ASURA.” One of the men on the camera crew looked up at the pale sign through his sunglasses and said, “Asura, huh. If this goes well, maybe I’ll name my daughter that.”
They began to tread along, realizing the path in front of them was much longer than they had expected. All the time the director had mostly stayed quiet, attempting to find some kind of perfect place to stop and just start filming. She found that it was entirely too perfect where they were, and the trees were too close to the edge of the road. So, they all kept walking. The director lit a cigarette and felt some form of guilt and a cold air kiss her neck. She had the chills but ignored it and kept walking.
Finally, they arrived at the center. It was a large circle of land where nothing grew and the dirt was compacted down so that it was almost like a concrete. Trees surrounded them, but besides that, there was nothing. Some of the crew complained, saying they assumed there would be some form of tent or cabin for them here. The director’s assistant calmed the rustle amongst the small crowd and told them that they had brought some tables and tents. It was now getting gray in the sky. Everyone took off their sunglasses and became quiet. No one wanted to walk the long trail again just to come back the next day, so with a sigh, the director made orders to begin shooting. And so they did. It was an independent film, so the quality was already not so fair. They figured the beautiful scenery and good script would make up for it. However, once they began shooting, the actors kept getting interrupted.
There was strangely hardly any bushes or grounded foliage in the woods behind them, so they went into a close area of the woods to shoot a scene. As soon as the camera began rolling, the leading actress began bouncing her head from side to side and asking if anyone heard what she heard. No one did. They all put her nerves off as amateur's remarks, and told her it was the wind and to stay on topic. She became irked, but listened. The scene was finished. It was the main character’s introduction, where she layed in the dark grass and rotting leaves and self reflected. It was not the smartest scene, nor the most original, but that suited this actress.
As the day turned to nights, the tents were set up and the workers retreated to attempt to sleep. All seemed well. Some of them felt as if it was the best sleep they have had in a long while, as there was no tossing and turning, and hardly any dreams. But, in the middle of the night, at about 4:25 A.M., there was a low, groaning. Almost a howl. It filled the air and woke everyone. A chill went up spines, hairs stood on ends. For a moment, everyone almost believed it wasn't the wind.
Poetry:
“Hell Town”
There’s an old tree on the far side of that place called “hell town”
It was called hell town because there was a
Bridge rumored to have a constant crying of a woman under it,
And because the town cemetery’s grass
Looked like eyelashes in the night,
And because most of the locals would
Eventually go missing after developing
A stange
Black ring
Around their right ankle.
And the tree’s roots looked like old man’s fingers
Digging into the ground,
Gripping onto the last bit of life the man’s hands
Seem to have
The trunk leans over, twisting into branches that reach up into the sky,
And though the tree has seen better days
(much better days)
Its limbs are like your hair when you lay on my bedroom floor,
The individual strands tangling and refusing to
Stop growing.
You wanted to take a visit to hell town
And tie a bottle around one of the old tree’s branches,
But i told you to write down everything about the bottle first,
And i was never satisfied with what the bottle was.
You got tired,
So tired that your hand had to stop writing
And your feet had to go to hell town.
You left the bottle and your shoes for me.
And i did not follow you into that black ring.
"Night Time, My Time"
She peeled back her skin gently
Behind it was nothing so special
Just the worms and feathers and dirt,
The new skin was much better, at least for the night.
Crawling, creeping, sinking
Into the dog skin,
Filling out all of the edges and holes.
She was too tall for the dog skin though, so
She stretched, and let it rip a little showing the smooth white flesh
Under the fur.
Outside the hut she made no hesitation,
There was one special place,
One special boy,
One special skin,
One special soul,
She wanted this night.
She slinked out into the tall grass,
Which turned into sand,
Her paw-hands gripping and holding as she walked.
Her walk was somewhat of a fake,
An imitation of a walk,
It was an insult, and she knew and thought it was funny.
She found the boy’s grandmother,
Her brown and wrinkled skin looked prideful,
The dog did not like wrinkled skin,
But she had to do what she must,
And what she must, she did.
She growled and gawked, and slunk up to the old woman.
The woman fell, gasping and trying to fight.
She failed, though. And the dog
Bit her ankle.
She slipped inside the old, dry, weathered skin,
She stretched and howled.
The boy awoke, finding his grandmother,
Standing unlike how his grandmother would stand,
Unlike anyone would stand,
Or maybe could stand.
She looked like her bones were broken,
Or maybe as if her muscles and organs,
had traded places.
He asked if she was okay,
But there was nothing else he could say,
Because his organs and muscles
Traded places,
And his bones seemed to all break,
When she stretched.
Chae
Classmateswork.docx
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