Another writing game to get your creativity going!
1. Pick an age between 12 and 18 OR 62 and 100.
2. Pick a city: Paris, Detroit, Chicago, Mumbai, Rio De Janiero, Tokyo, Moscow, Honolulu, Krakow, Athens...or one of your own choosing.
3. Choose a prominent physical feature to make distinctive: nose, ears, eyes, teeth, or hands. For example, a long, crooked nose or small, calloused hands.
4. Pick an eye color.
5. Pick a hair color.
6. Create a name, first name starting with R and last name starting with G. R_____ G_____
7. Choose a passion: painting, jazz music, poetry, aviation, environmental activism, gardening, basketball, cooking, astrophysics, social justice, butterfly collecting, space travel, mad science experimenting, training animals..or one of your own choosing.
You are now officially this character! Write a two-paragraph minimum story starting with:
I thought I had been asking politely, but obviously...
EXAMPLE
ReplyDeleteI thought I had been asking politely, but obviously the librarian was not as interested in star gazing as me. My fierce green eyes were glowering at her as she lazily thumbed through the Krakow Library's decrepit Dewey Decimal System index cards. She yawned again, and my craggy old hands snatched the cards from her.
"It's fine, I'll do it myself," I spit angrily, my grey beard shaking with frustration.
"Mr. Garrison? Roger Garrison?" I heard a small voice inquiring behind me...
ETC.
Notice how I work the details I chose into the story.
HAVE FUN!! :)
I thought I had been asking politely, but obviously the Enomologist wasn't interested in looking at my collection of colorful arrangements of butterflies stored in my gigantic greenhouse in Rio De Janiero. I looked at him with my large brown eyes until he noticed.
ReplyDelete"Oh, hello Mr. . . um. . .what was it again?"said the entomologist in a confused way.
"Its Mr Gonzalez. Rodrigo Gonzalez to be precise,"I said, in a slightly annoyed tone.
"Oh yes! Okay, Mr. Gonzalez, I have been wondering whether you are willing to go on an adventure with me to find the illusive golden butterfly?"asked the entomologist with confidence.
"I would love to go on the adventure with you, but I am only 12"I replied with excitment.
"Oh that is alright. I just really need an expert of butterfies to join me on my expedition."the entomologist said politely.
"I am Diego Alejandro Sanchez by the way,"the man said.
A few days later, we started our adventure into the forests of South America. I had trouble trying to keep my long, flowing black hair from tangling in the low-hanging branches. We spent days and nights trying to find even a slight shimmer of the golden butterfly. I was always prepared to catch it the instant I saw the legendary critter. I was very excited in finding it for my collection.
After a week of travelling, we actually managed to fid the creature. It had beutiful shiny golden wings that shimmered light into the darkness. I soon took out my net and approached the bug as carefully as possible. I then landed my net, capturing the golden marvel. We went back to the greenhouse and released it into the collection. We were both happy with the result and became good friends after that.
I thought I had been asking politely, but obviously I had said something wrong. I was still new to Tokyo, and was very rough with my Japanese. My baseball team, where I was the youngest one at 18 years young, had relocated to Japan, and we were all still in the adjustment period. We were all doing quite well, but there was still much room to improve. At this time I was with the trainer, asking him to do something to my large aching hands. I had just came back from three hours of batting practice, and my hands felt like they had been set on fire. He glared at me, straight into my unique amber eyes, and told me to get lost. I must have said something really bad.
ReplyDeleteI walked out of his office fuming, and sprinted to the sushi bar, knowing I was late, for lunch with the team. That was another thing that growed on us, a love for sushi. After lunch, we raced back to the practice field, my black hair floating behind me like a kite, and got dressed for field practice. I was in for a surprise when I got back. The manager called to me, “Rex Grand, step into my office.” “Hey kid, how do you feel about moving back to the states to play for the San Francisco Giants.” I was in shock at the offer. I accepted it and hopped on a plane back to San Francisco the next day. Ever since I was young my dream had been to play for the Giants, and now it was a reality.
Nice job on incorporating those details seamlessly and letting them guide your writing!
ReplyDeleteI thought I had been asking nicely, but obviously the three boys I was working for had just been agitated. I would to, If there were a gaping hole through MY lab. I had asked them to explain why I was needed. The boy in the green hoodie was starting to reply when a massive groaning shuddered about the lab. The boy in the blue jacket was tinkering with some sort of device that was making a humming sound. The third boy with glasses in the red T-shirt, though, just looked scary. He had what must have been dozens of sticks explosives strapped to his arm. He was also brandishing an elegant iron pickaxe. I was starting to get scared of what I was hired to do for these three. The green hoodied kid (who had now strapped on goggles) was now talking, "Do I have your attention, Mr. ... "
ReplyDelete"Gates!" I replied quickly. " Reginald Gates,! best Spelunker in all of San Fran Sokyo!" And I stuck out one of my large hands to shake.
However, instead of shaking, the Glasses kid came through and handed me an iron (and heavy!) pickaxe. "We're going to need all the cave-skill we can get" he said. The lab moaned again, louder this time. " We need to hurry." The kid with the blue jacket and crown said. The kid with the hoodie handed me a mining helmet, and we marched into a cave system that was exposed in the explosion. They explained to me specifically what had happened. They had gone mining like this before, in search of a power source for their lab, but when it was loaded in, there was a huge accident and the power source exploded. Leaving behind a huge tunnel in their ceiling leading straight toward the surface. This time, they were looking for another power source, however, much less destructive. They also told me that as soon as they get power, the clean up bots could fix the lab. I wiped my blue hair away from my green eyes as I cut through the rock with my pick and I wondered if the boys were the same age as me; 13. We stopped in a cavern where I guessed the old power source was found because the walls were glowing a faint purple. On the other side of the cavern, though, was a rock about 5 feet in diameter that was glowing soft blue. The boys faces immediately lit up. and they raced toward their soon to be power source.
-Isaac E. =D
Spelunking is one of the greatest words in the English language.
DeleteI thought I had been asking nicely, but obviously the coach didn't care. He just grunted and I looked into his cold dark eyes and he looked into my bright blue eyes. After a considerable while, he stood up and yelled at me, "Robert Grump, we here at Chicago are working to help our basketball organization, not fill it with cheap horrible talent like yours, even if you call it talent..."
ReplyDeleteIn the middle of the sentence, I blurt out, "But I haven't even played a game yet, how would you know..."
Then he, very in considerably interrupts, "Be quiet 'browny' and keep your mouth shut." He has called me blond ever since he met me. He hated me since the very day he saw my dark brown hair and then looked at his bold head. He hates a lot of other things about me as well, or at least he is envious about them, for example, my long curved nose compared to his Voldemort nose, my bright blue eyes compared to his black pit eyes of nothingness, and finally my dark brown. hair compared to his bold head. I with my closing statement, say, "I'm demanding a trade, and oh by the way, he is something the GM Manager told me to gave you." I walk away feeling happy knowing that he will be shocked when he opens the envelope and sees that he is fired. I chuckle to myself then.
Jamal N.
Ich dachte, ich höflich zu fragen, aber offensichtlich sind sie nicht interessiert waren. Es war das dritte Mal, dass ich versucht habe, ihnen zu sagen, dass ich eigentlich in der Klasse zu verhalten, so konnte ich mein Handy wieder zu bekommen. "Ich war gut !!!" Ich hatte gesagt: "Kann ich es jetzt zurück?" Aber nein, sie wusste nur nicht mir glauben! Also musste ich gehen, um "B" zu planen.
ReplyDeleteIch musste schnell laufen. Ich hinterließ eine Nachricht zurück, damit sie wissen, wohin ich ging. Ich lief und lief und lief! Schneller und schneller. Sie konnten gekommen, aber ich konnte nicht ihre Schritte hören, wenn sie waren. Ich musste durch die Stadt zum Bäcker gehen. Ihr blondes Haar war durch den Wind fliegen und meine grünen Augen wurden rund Stechen auf der Suche nach jemanden, der mich wissen. Wenn sie mich gesehen, würde ich duckte sich haben, um zu vermeiden jeder wusste, dass Gespräche. Ich habe in die Bäckerei und die alte Frau hinter der Theke fragte mich, wer ich war und woher ich gekommen war. Ich sagte ihr: "Ich bin Roswitha Greenberg. Ich bin eine 13-jährige aus München." Dann fragte sie, warum ich so kleine Ohren und ich sagte ihr, dass sie wurden mir von meinen Eltern und Großeltern als Geburtstagsgeschenk gegeben.
Ich ging nach Hause mit meinen Eltern und sie gaben mir mein Handy. Ich war glücklich ... Sie hatte mich mein Handy zurück gegeben. Ich hatte Eltern, die zugehört. Sie vertrauten mir. Und alles war in München viel glücklicher.
Sorry it's in German. I was having fun with this one. Here's the English version:
DeleteI thought I was asking politely, but obviously they were not interested. It was the third time I've tried to tell them that I actually behave in class, so I could get my phone back. "I was good !!!" I had said, "Can I have it back now?" But no, they just did not believe me! So I had to go to plan "B".
I had to run fast. I left a note behind, so they know where I was going. I ran and ran and ran! Faster and faster. They could have come but I could not hear her steps, if they were. I had to walk through the city to the bakery. My blonde hair was flying through the wind and my green eyes were darting around looking for someone to know me. If they had seen me, I would have ducked to avoid any knew conversations. I got to the bakery and the old woman behind the counter asked me who I was and where I had come from. I told her, "I am Roswitha Greenberg. I am a 13 year old from Munich." She then asked why I had such small ears and I told her that they were given to me by my parents and grandparents as a BIRTHday present.
I went home with my parents and they gave me my phone. I was happy... They had given me my phone back. I had parents who listened. They trusted me again. And everything was much happier in Munich.
Saskia! Ha!
DeleteI thought I had been asking politely, but obviously the other scientists didn't seem to care. "What was that Grimes, I wasn't listening." One of them said said teasingly. " It's Ms.Grimes to you mister!" I yelled staring at him with my oddly, bright, piecing, crimson eyes. "Yeah, yeah, sure what ever you say Rita." They laughed and walked away, I could feel my anger bubble up at them. I mean honestly they should respect me I am called the the Genius Scientist and I'm only 15meaning I was the youngest scientist here.
ReplyDeleteAfter packing up my equipment, I exited the building to be met with the bright lights and rainy sky of New York. I sighed as I forgot to bring my umbrella and began to rush from cover to cover. By the time I got home I was drenched, and my short brown hair was sticking to my face like glue. I quickly changed and dried my hair and began to finish my experiment. By the time I was done it was 2 in the morning upset about losing track of time I put the equipment away and went to bed.
I thought I had been asking politely, but Mrs. Jones didn't. She always takes thing negatively. For example, she said that my small hands would never be able to create a good piece of pottery. Because of her, I'm always hiding my,what she calls, green eyes behind my "weird" long reddish hair, and sitting in my chair, rarely interacting with anyone and listening to the honking cars of New York. The only reason I was able to come to this class is because I loved pottery, and the Mrs. Jones was my mom's lifetime friend, and no matter how many times I try, she won't believe me saying that her favorite best friend in the universe is bullying me behind her back.
ReplyDeleteAll I did was ask for some clay to start our project, making pinch pots, but she said no, thinking I would make the clay dry before I made my pinch pot cup. I never learn anything from this pottery class because Mrs. Jones doesn't let me do anything. I went home after class, wondering what to do about my hard life. I suddenly got an idea that might just work.
I thought I had been asking politely, but obviously they wouldn't let me back on the team. I play baseball for the Oakland A's. I missed one game because of a family emergency. My coach said, "We don't take excuses." I stormed out of the room fuming. Tears were running down the sides of my face. I ran to my car and drove away.
ReplyDeleteThe coach gave me a call and told me to meet him at a restaurant. We met and ordered food. "Ronald Gray, I need you back on the team. You were our best player." My coach said. He stared into my black eyes. I said, "Ok I will come back on the team if you raise my pay." "Deal." He shook my rough worn hand. And we both left the restaurant.
I thought I had been asking politely, but obviously he wasn't listening. I missed one game because I had to go back home to Chicago. My coach looked me straight into my dark brown eyes and said,"We already found a replacement, we had to forfeit that game because we were down a player. I'm sorry." I walked away without saying anything and drove home. I was a pro video game player who played on Cloud 9. I went to sleep when I got home. A couple weeks later, my coach called me and told me to meet him at a sushi place near my house for lunch and a meeting.
ReplyDeleteI met him at the sushi place and we ordered lunch. My coach, Bob, jr. told me he wanted me back on the team. He said the person that replaced me got home sick and quit. He said,"Richard Greg we need you back on the team!" I said ok and he shook my large, calloused hands. Later that day, the person that replaced me called me and told him he wasn't really homesick he just wanted me to be back on the team. Then we became best friends.
I thought I had been asking politely, but obviously the lady behind the wooden board didn’t think the same way as me.
ReplyDelete“Excuse me?” she responded, quirking her eyebrow with distaste. Her mouth was set in a stern line and the expression on her face told me exactly what she thought of me: a fool, a scoundrel, someone much lower than herself.
“I would like to trade this meat for some bread,” I repeated, trying desperately not to roll my bright amber eyes. It was always the same reaction when people found out that I was a huntswoman. It was always the same old, “Ladies should be prim and proper, not dirty. They should not wield a weapon and nor should they learn how to fight,” and everything else that was ‘wrong’ with me. She placed her hand on the board and frowned, scouring my face as if I were a new, undiscovered specimen in a damp, rotting forest. My jaw clenched, and I fought the urge to blurt out rude remarks.
“What type of meat are you offering?”
I almost sighed in exasperation. Now we were going somewhere.
“Deer meat.”
The woman shuffled around her stall and produced three fresh loaves of bread. I mentally thanked her for her swiftness. Any longer and I would have screamed; I never was a patient person and I never liked people like her.
“Give me two whole legs and you will have the bread.”
It was a fair deal. The legs weren’t my favorite part of the meat anyway.
I placed the meat on the board, making a large ‘thump’ on the wood as I did so. I took the bread and placed the loaves carefully in my basket. With the slight nod of my head, I turned and strolled away, feeling happy that I was able to get through the dealing without biting the woman’s head off her shoulders.
Ignoring the usual curious glances, I pushed my hood up the cover my strikingly onyx colored hair and shadow most of my visage.
Every other day, I would stroll through Prague with a horse carrying the things I gathered from hunting and I would trade the items for things that I needed. Simple, but irritating. It took a great deal of effort not to turn around and stick my tongue out at those who whispered and gossiped about my unusual appearance. It was very, very difficult to restrain myself.
It was particularly difficult to do so when the people of the town were talking about my eye-patch and what was beyond it; what it hid.
I hear that she has a fake eye and that it causes even the most composed of men to vomit upon seeing it.
I hear that she doesn’t have a second eye and that she was born with a gaping hole in her face.
Well, I heard that her eye will petrify whoever looks upon it.
There was a wide variety of thoughts and theories, but none of them came close to what was actually beneath the patch.
Truth be told, it was a scar. What was beneath was as simple as that; nothing more and nothing less.
I placed my newly acquired items into various satchels and bags hanging from my mare and plopped onto it’s sturdy back. There was no saddle as I prefered to ride without one; a thin cloth replaced it. With a subtle movement of my feet, the horse trotted forward, heading for the woods where I resided.
Within a half an hour, I stood in front of a large tree with a crevice in it’s center and put my hand in it. It was cool to the touch, as if rain had kissed it’s old wood.
“Home,” I breathed, and the tree’s branches twirled, causing a soft breeze to drift through the forest.
“Welcome back, Ms. Reyna Grelings.”
I nodded at the face that had appeared on the tree with a small smile.
“Thank you.”
I love how descriptive this is! I can imagine this as if it were a movie playing in my head!!
Delete~Karina V.卌
I thought I had been asking politely, but obviously he wasn't having it. I thought I could chase my dreams as soon as I turn 18, but my father had different plans for my future. All I ever wanted was to be a famous jazz musician like Charlie Parker, Lester Young, or John Coltrane, but no. Sense I'm an only child my dad wants me to be the next owner of Ganza Aviation Services, aka our family company for airplanes. It's like a common passion for generations in my family to want to be an engineer and run the company. It was my dream at one point, but when my mom died I turned to jazz.
ReplyDeleteI remember going through her old items and found some jazz records and i started to listen to them. When my dad signed me up for privet lessons for my berry sax, he figured it was a phase, but he was wrong because it's my passion.
Though, now it's as if there's no more free will. I want to carry out the business, I still love the thought of being an engineer, but I'm still young, can't i accomplish both? My father just wasn't having, what's wrong with being a musician? I could join the military and play music there without actually going out into the field like what my music teacher once told me. Then maybe when I'm ready i could run the bossiness.
To my dad's point of view, however, he thinks that my plan is pointless if i'm just going to run the company in the end. He wants me to fill his large man shoes with my small Cinderella feet, and i know I can do that, but if i can accomplish both dreams, we'd both be happy, but i don't see what's so bad if i do both, i don't see this the way he does. Every time I try to talk him into it he shoots me down.
"This is unfair dad and you know it! It's my life, why can't you let me make this decision for myself?" I stated, looking into his dark brown eyes with my green ones. I've always looked more like my mom than my dad. I had his personality, but when it came to looks i was basically my mom's clone, but younger.
"Maybe I just don't want you to leave. You have no siblings, your mom...*sigh* It's always going to be hard for a parent to part from their children, but no one can stop what's going to come. You look just like your mom, and have dreams that reach the stars and you have the capability of achieving of your goals. I don't know if you want to stay in New York anymore, but you could always find a jazz band to join here, even a little jig now and then, but if you want to go and preform for the military, or whatever your plan is, I can't stand in your way, Rain." my dad said, softly. He'd been more dependent since my mom passed, I should of noticed and been more considerate, but life goes on.
It will whether or not you're ready for it to. Stay on your toes and keep up. No one should have to be left in the dust when everybody has the chance to march triumphantly through it, and that's what I, Rain A. Ganza, is going to do, small Cinderella feet and all.
-Nikamarie F.
I thought I had been asking politely, but obviously coach wasn't hearing it. In our previous game against the Oakland A's we were crushing them going into the 9th inning. Then, all I did was miss a pop fly to the outfield that most people on my team would not even come close to catching. We won the game anyway. On top of that I was 3 for 3 on the day with a single, a double, and a triple. "Coach it was just one hit, and you know that I've caught the rest of those balls this year, I pleaded with sadness." By the look he gave me, I knew this wasn't going good.
ReplyDeleteMy coach replied, "I do not want to here it son. In fact, we are putting Angel Pagan out there!" Angel Pagan had way more years on me in the MLB, but I knew I was better. The next game I looked at the lineup card. Sure enough I was sitting. Everyone else on the team (all 25 men) knew that I should have been out there because Angel had barely recovered from his injury yet. The game after that, I guess coach realized that i should have been in because I saw my name, Ryan Gaddis batting leadoff and playing center field.
I thought I was asking politely, But obviously i was wrong. I had just called ESPN two days ago, asking them not to make a big deal of my injury. But there they were yelling at me and telling me to take care of myself. They were right though. We had just played the lions in Detroit, and I just flew to Chicago to my penthouse. I had it all, the fame, money, talent, youth, and big nose, and then I snapped my ankle. And there it was reminding me of it right on the TV: Robert Griffin III, injured AGAIN.
ReplyDeleteI hate it when this happens, sitting on the sideline, and not being able to help my team win. All i can do is sit on that freezing bench, or watch film from the previous game in the locker room. But im not gonna sit in the locker room! im gonna sit here and support my team. I don't care what the ESPN analysts have to say about it. I am going to stay out here in the cold of Chicago, big nose and all.
I thought I had been asking politely, but obviously the lady behind the counter didn’t care. I had driven out to this “Excuse me, I need to know where the guitar picks and strings are.” She just looked me in my fierce green eyes and said, “I don’t know, maybe you should look in the piano section,” she remarked, with an evident tone of sarcasm. I just flipped my long, blonde hair at her and walked towards the guitar section. I got to the guitar section and saw a boy there that I recognized playing the guitar. I realized who he was once his soft blue eyes met my fierce green ones. “You’re really good.” I complimented “Thanks. I’m Niall, Niall Horan, 18 years of age” said Niall, with an obvious Irish accent and then flashing his million dollar smile. “I’m Rosie Granger, also 18 years of age” I said, then looking to the shelf and grabbed 3 packs of guitar strings and 4 picks. “Stocking up there, aren’t you,” he commented. I just laughed and replied, “Yeah, I love playing guitar, but hate driving all the way out here to this music shop. I wonder why the music shops in Sydney are bigger and better than the ones in Melbourne” which resulted in him laughing. We chatted for a while, and then we both had to go. I remembered I had my guitar with me in my car, so I ran and got it.
ReplyDeleteI told him I was a big fan of One Direction, and asked him to sign it. Thankfully, the fact that I was a fan didn’t change our “friendship,” or whatever you would like to call it. I packed up my guitar and placed it in my car then turned back to Niall. “Hey Rosie, can I get your number?” he questioned. In my head, I was fangirling so much, since the Niall Horan has asked me for my phone number, but I stayed calm on the outside. “Sure, just enter yours (phone number) there.” We exchanged numbers, said our goodbyes, and I got in my car and drove off to Melbourne. I couldn’t believe what had just happened. I met 1/5 of One Direction, and got his number! I was listening to the radio, then suddenly “BEEP- BEEP- BEEP- BEEP- BEEP” I woke up to the sound of my alarm clock, realizing I hadn’t met 1/5 of One Direction at the music shop, and I didn’t have the Niall Horan’s phone number. It was all just a dream.
~Karina V. 卌
(P.s i was listening to ♥One Direction♥ while writing this [Of course] and Melbourne and Sydney are in Australia for those of you that didnt know.) ♥
And if it is not obvious already, I love One Direction. They are the bomb.com ☺
DeleteI thought I had been asking politely, but obviously, the tone of my voice wasn't what they were concerned about. Just yesterday, I had been told that a group of teenagers were gathering at the old lighthouse. Some people say that the lighthouse once housed hidden treasure. Never in a million years would I have ever suspected that there were pirates there, and that I would be asking to join their crew! The group of people consisted of kids around the ages of 13 or 14, and they were clad in makeshift buccaneering costumes. When I had reached their meeting place, whispers were exchanged throughout the room, followed by multiple hushed arguments, until finally, the leader of the council, a boy fifteen years old at most, began to speak.
ReplyDelete"Who DARES request to join the pirates of Half Moon Bay?! State your name, young one!"
"Uh... Reagan Gates? I'm only three years younger than you so I rea-"
"REAGAN GATES!! State your rank!"
I paused, and looked nervously around the dim, dusty room. Everyone was motioning towards the boy, attempting to egg me on. Were they expecting me to talk like him?
"The best swashbuckler in the entire town, s-ssir!", I shouted unsurely. The gap between my front teeth whistled, and a few people began to giggle.
The boy rolled his eyes, and his second in command couldn't help himself from butting in.
"She certainly don't look special, nope. A twelve year old, what with her long black hair and brown eyes. No way possible that she's the best swashbuckler in town! Not even the best swashbuckler in the room!"
The previous giggles morphed into an uproarious round of laughter. I hadn't been joking when I said that, and I could prove it. As soon as I could spot the nearest sword (which was really only made of plastic), I grabbed hold of and thrusted it towards the leader. It stopped only inches away from his neck, and a few audible gasps rose from the watching roomful of kids.
"I demand to be taken seriously! No matter what, I'll always be a true-blue pirate, with or without you," I declared bravely. The crowd was left speechless. Then, there was a clap. And then another. And another. And one by one, the whole congregation bursted into applause. The two kids in command who had nearly turned me down looked to each other, and then to the others. Finally, the eldest one looked at me and said:
"Reagan, the truest and bluest of all of the swashbucklers, welcome to the crew!"
~KA2
Note: I decided to add some back story on Ross from my previous posts.
ReplyDeleteI thought that I had been asking politely, but obviously that wasn’t enough. I’m 15 and I’ve had my driver’s permit for at least 6 months, so according to london standards, I am allowed to take my driver’s test. “Look here,” I snapped. “it says, in fine print,’You must hold your permit for six months before you can take your driving test to get your driver license.’ So, technically, I’m allowed in.” The man looked at me with a frightening stare and I could tell that he was determined to not let me in. The man looked back down at the paper, scanning for things that he could point out to not let me in, but looked back up with an annoyed face. “I’m absolutely sorry, sir. You can go take your test now. He let me pass into the back, still holding his annoyed look. As I walked past him, he scowled at me and called for the next person in line.
I sat there, waiting for them to call my name. I was there for at least 30 minutes until I heard them call me. “Ross Gavitt, report for your test.” came over the loudspeaker. As I walked towards the car, I saw a frightful lady sitting in the passenger’s seat. She looked like she would be working at a 90’s diner in her spare time. “Come in.” she spoke with a raspy voice. “I don’t bite… When I’m not hungry.” She cackled loudly as he held up her clipboard. I chuckled nervously as I settled into the seat. “So, lets get started, shall we? Start the car.” She ordered. I quickly grabbed the keys and started the engine as I put my small hands on “10 and 2”. “Go forward and make a left.” She said. As I left the DMV, I couldn’t stop thinking that the old woman was going to bite me.
She kept spouting out directions and kept marking me down for every time I forgot to use the turn signals. “Maybe she’s directing me to her secret lair.” I thought as we drove into the bad side of town. “What if she’s not a tester at all and she’s really a serial killer leading her prey away from the rest of the pack.” I kept thinking as drove down the street. Then I heard her scream: “STOP THE CAR, STOP THE CAR!!” I snapped out of my daydream and back into reality right as I drove straight into the gas station. We both screamed as I narrowly missed a gas tank and a mother and her child walking out of the store. I lurched forward as the car abruptly stopped. The woman screamed in frustration and smacked me in the arm. “YOU ARE THE WORST DRIVER I’VE EVER SEEN!!” She stamped my paper with several “fails” and told me to scoot over. As I moved into the passenger’s seat, I could hear her mutter under her breath,”Last time I let teens drive.” I sat silently as she drove me back to the DMV and nagged me about everything I did wrong, and several things I never actually did. As I got out of the car, she told me that I was going to have to pay for the damage I did. “Great,” I thought. “Family’s gonna love to have to pull out a couple grand.”
I thought that I had been asking politely, but obviously she didn't take it that way. All I did was ask the girl next to me for a piece of paper. She started yelling at me telling me to get my own paper. Whatever it doesn't even matter. My name is Rae Grace and today was my first day a dumb high school in Paris. I really didn't want to move to France but because of my Mom's new job I had no choice. This was my last year at high school, by the way I'm 17. Mom and Dad told me the school had a great soccer team, I told them I would have to see for myself. I've been playing soccer practically for forever. I just have a really bad feeling about this school.
ReplyDeleteI woke up at 6:30 am to get ready for school, school starts at 8 am. When I arrived someone came up to me and told me I had really pretty eyes, that pretty much made my day (my eyes are a grey blue). The girl showed me around school it actually wasn't as bad once I was shown around. By the time my sixth period came around which is PE my day was great. While I was in my locker room brushing my long annoying brown hair some girls came up to me and told me about where we are supposed to sit. I guess I should give this school a chance.
Now the year is getting close to be half way over and I have made a lot of friends. Today is soccer try-outs, I think I'll do fine I practice everyday endless I'm sick. Wish me luck!
I thought that I had been asking politely, but obviously the clerk didn't take it that way. He appeared to be having a bad day, and I couldn't help but pity him and stitch his mouth to a smile. It hurts my guts to see someone unhappy, so a person should smile at least 3 times a day in order to maintain a constant emotion rate (at least I think). I was at a local greenhouse shop in a small center in Kyoto which I go to every other day. Sometimes if I don't have change in my pocket to buy a seedling, other customers might just catch me watching the roses bloom. All I can say is that plants are love and plants are life. They're everything to me and my best friend Rei, who was consulting with the grumpy clerk about the price of a herb plant being 600 yen too expensive from last week. Rei calls me Vanilla from my real name Reese Gelato. Apparently my last name means Italian ice cream which is where he got Vanilla from.
ReplyDeleteThe greenhouse was a wide expanse of the most delicate flowers to the most vicious cactus. The glass exterior allowed light to filter in and cast out warmth in the building. I could see my reflection on the side of a glass panel; blood red hair cut in an A-line and cyan eyes. There were small ferns in flower pots which were dangling from the ceiling as if they were chandeliers. The grumpy clerk settled down his fit a little, and Rei smiled at me as I wondered how he managed to stop the clerk from looking like a tomato head. As we left the greenhouse shop while saving 500 yen just by negotiating with the clerk, Rei and I heard a few faint cries coming down from the busy street. It was a criminal, I thought, and I was correct. A man clutching onto a sack load of money ran sprinting through alleys and stoplights. Rei and I watched the thief from a distance. Then I noticed something so horrid and so horrific I was about to lose my head. A row of beautiful carnation flowers were planted near the edge of the sidewalk, and as the thief came running towards our direction, he purposely ran and crushed the ray of multicolored flowers thinking he didn't do the world any harm. I was so horrified at the flowers that he destroyed and wanted to scream my lungs out. When the thief came running close to me, I stuck my foot across his way and tripped him. He fell on the ground with a thud as the police came to catch him. I gave a smirk, that's what he gets for stepping on flowers. Yeah my love for plants is insane. Rei started clapping his hands very slowly and I felt extremely proud for avenging the death of those pretty carnation flowers.
-Shreya S.
I thought I had been asking politely, but obviously not since I was now being screamed at. All I did was ask for a piece of paper so I could draw but I guess you're not supposed to do that in the library. "Regina Graham!!!" The librarian stared at me with a stern look. I sighed then took my backpack and headed out. I decided that I would try and calm down by going to the stream by my house. But when I got to the stream, there was a pleasant surprise.
ReplyDeleteMy hazel eyes were nearly popping out of my head this was an amazing surprise. All of my friends had been waiting for me here! Even those who I haven't seen in a long time. "Hey Regina," said Luke and Alice. "Omg, you're hair has gotten so long! Can I braid it?" Asked Hailey. I allowed her to, and only then did I realize that my brown hair had gotten quite long. "Was this all planned?" I asked. Jordan came up and bopped my stubby little nose," why of course, I mean you're 16th birthday is coming up!" I totally had forgotten about my birthday...
Mainly the whole time we tAlked and just had a great time. I took a few friends home and the others branched off into different directions. I showed them to my room and they all gasped when they saw my art work. "Is this like...you're free time stuff? Like instead of doing an activity or sport you do art?" Luke said with an open mouth, gapping. I just smiled and nodded, feeling embarrassed kind of. They all took a seat on the floor or on my bed and we told each other how everything has been. "This is an amazing day today," Lauren said with a giant grin on her face. We all agreed. I pulled out a piece of paper and wrote down "June 4, 2012 in Rio, Brazil....BEST DAY EVER with the best friends in the whole world" then I drew some hearts and an earth. I showed this to them and they laughed. I hung it up on my wall and smiled with great pleasure. This day will never be forgotten, for it was the best and only surprise anyone has given me.
~Juliana P.
I thought I had asked politely, but obviously i was wrong about that. If I have to do this the hard way I will. To bad it had to come to that. These seemed like nice people. No, I'm kidding, they really aren't. I slide down the wall and kick one of them hard across the face. I heard a snap caused by his nose. "Gross." I said. Slowly I slide my hand through my jet back hair and blinked my daring grey eyes.
ReplyDeleteThe name is Green. Robert Chapman Green. I'm a seventeen year old international spy from Paris. My specialty? Code breaking. I've been doing it since I could talk. As of right now, my mission is to get back to Paris to report what has happened at the Lolita Factory.
I thought I had asked politely, but I was morally wrong. My name is Rutherford W. GuiLlet. I am a seventeen year old soccer player in Rio De Janiero. I have always wanted to play for Brazil. My best position is goalkeeper, except I small hands.
ReplyDeleteIt was always my talent, besides my beautiful blonde hair. Also my great blue eye wink. I actually have many talents, but soccer is my best talent overall. I have always been the best goalkeeper out of all my friends even with my exceptionally small hands. Soccer has always been my dream, and I hope to become professional.
I thought I had asked politely, but obviously I was terribly wrong. Alyss looked at me, an offended and hurt expression on her small face. The guilt began to settle into me as she turned and ran out the door towards her room, tears streaming down her face, slamming the door shut behind her. I was standing up from my desk chair, planning on following her, when I heard the unmistakable sound of Alyss locking her door and crawling into the back of her closet. Feeling like a horrible person, I walk over to my bed and launch myself onto it, savoring the welcome and calm essence that only beds give off. I doze off, but my sleep is fitfull. The scene keeps playing over and over in my mind, causing me to toss and turn in my sleep.
ReplyDeleteThis is how it happened:
I was sitting at my desk, working on some architectural designs, when Alyss had walked into the room and over to the desk. After a few minutes of her watching me work, I got really tired of her breathing down my neck and constantly asking me questions about my work. So, I let out all my anger and annoyance at once. I whipped around in my seat, startling her and causing her to jump back in alarm. Then I yelled at her to get out of my room so that I could work in peace and not have to hear her voice -- at least not for a little bit. That was when she started crying and ran out of the room.
I was tossing and turning so much in my sleep that I fell off my bed and hit the floor on my back with a dull thud, instantly waking up. From downstairs, I hear my mom call my name, "Rachel Gardiner!!! What in the world was that?!?" I sigh and get up, yelling back, "Nothing, Mom, I just fell off my bed!" I sit back down at my desk and look at my architecture designs, an idea of how to make up for my outburst at Alyss forming in my head. I peek around the edge of my bedroom door to make sure that Alyss was still in her room with the door locked. I see that her door is still firmly shut. I hear the faint sound of voices and see the faintest suggestion of light peeking out from under the door. I figure that she must of crawled out of her closet while I was napping and was now watching TV. Satisfied, I pull my head back into my room and hurry over to my desk. I text my friends from the architecture club at school, telling them my plan. Then I head down to the little shed in the backyard where I keep my wood and tools for when I decide to make small models of my architectural ideas, many of which have ended up as homes for my sister's Barbie dolls. I take out what I judge as enough to last me through this project, then head back inside to change out of my bright blue dress into something mmore suitable for the task that awaits my friends and I. The dress may be cute, but it was deffinitely not meant to be worn while building. Once I have on my old paint- and sawdust-covered jeans and an old gray tee, I went to the bathroom across the hall to brush my hair and put it up and out of the way. Once I had my hair up in a bun, I studied myself in the mirror. I looked at my small nose, my bright blond bun, and my large, round, sea-green eyes. If I was like most girls my age, I would be obsessing over my appearance, seeing the tiniest blemishes as huge flaws and always looking for ways to fix them.
But I'm not like other girls. I'm like me. And that's the only person I plan on being. The only person I can be. And I have long since accepted that.
The sound of the doorbell pulls me away from my thoughts. I hurry down the stairs, knowing that it will be some of my friends . I hurry down the stairs. All of the exhaustion and stress that I was filled with when I first got home had melted away, thanks to both my nap and the excitement of the task ahead. As I walked toward the door, I thought about how nice it is that, like me, that don't try to be someone they're not. I grabbed hold of the dorrknob, thinking how my friends and I will most likely have a big affect on Athens, the city the all lived in. But for now, they were all content to just work on small or medium architectural projects, ssuch as building a little playhouse in the backyard of Rachel's house, as they were about to. She realized that they had a long night of work ahead of them if they expected to finish the playhouse by morning, and she was very glad for it.
ReplyDeleteSorry my blog post wouldn't fit in one post.
DeleteThese were a joy to read!! So much talent!
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