Creative Writing Portfolio 20062007 Forest Park

1
Creative Writing Portfolio 2006-2007Forest Park

• Sophia Arrighi
• 10
• Mrs. Dowling

2
Introduction

• Thank you for visiting this portfolio. Here lie
  the genius works of the worlds most prominent up
  and coming writer, Sophia Arrighi. I hope you
  will enjoy these works as much as everyone else
  does.

Table of Contents
3
Table of Contents

• Chapter 3
• Superficial
• Rules
• Tire Inflation
• Rain
• Perfect
• Opposite
• Smile
• Museum
• Proud
• Senryu
• Petty
• Hush Child
• Reflections (1) (2)

• Chapter 2
• Wolf
• Snow
• XY
• Sans Self
• Objectify
• Dangerous Art
• Zombie
• Silly Girl
• Reflections

• Portfolio 1
• Journal Entry 1
• Journal Entry 2
• Journal Entry 3
• Journal Entry 4
• Journal Entry 5
• Writing Assignment
• Poetry
• Additional Work
• Reflections

4
Chapter three.
5
Superficial
Im superficial. Ill judge you, accuse you,
inspect you, criticize you of your brand name
shoes and last seasons hair cut and clichéd
shirt. I wont talk long if youre wearing somethi
ng ugly. I wont look you in the eye if it makes
me want to puke. I wont date you if the thought
of kissing your cracked and chapped bleeding lips
is a revolting image.
6
Rules for my Island

• No falling in love
• No killing anyone without consensus from island
• No inviting people to island
• No babies may be born without consensus from
  island
  
• No leaving the island
• No fighting without valid argument and a crowd
• No unflattering haircuts

7
Tire inflation
A good commercial to remind you to inflate your
ties would be like this Three ditzy blonde girls
with their little dogs in their pink brand name
purses stand on the side of the road giggling. A
guy in a sports car pulls over and gets out. The
girls walk over giggly and flirty. The guy
smiles, pops off one of the heads of the blonde,
hooks it up to his tire, and deflates her head.
He puts the head back on the blonde, but now its
like a deflated balloon. The two blonde girls
left just look at each other, shrug, giggle, and
jump into the back of his care. And they all
drive off.
8
Rain
Asphalt soaked with rain Leaves this suburbia sil
ent Smells of industry Reminders of pollution N
ature isnt natural.
9
Perfect
Blanketing the earth Hiding all imperfections Be
auty of the snow Just for a minute An hour A da
y Forever in my mind An image of perfection Sha
ll stay.
10
Opposite
Money, greed, jealousy, greed, green
Its opposite is just as mean Stop, bleed, anger,
red
The fatal two will leave you dead
11
Smile
Smile giggle flirt Giggle flirt kiss Flirt kiss
date Kiss date like Date like love Like love fi
ght Love fight dump Fight dump hate Dump hate f
orget Hate forget smile
12
Museum
Captured forever After the dreams die And the me
mories fade And the artist lie Captured forever
The inspired inspire Recycled dreams Recycled
desire
13
Proud
Whispers waving Through these ears Submerged, ch
eat heaving From the glory Ive been breathing S
oaking up the sun My arrogance youve won I eter
nally reside Drowning, chin up high In the sea
Of my own pride
14
Senryu
I watch gourmet dog food Followed by starving Afr
icans
On my plasma TV.
15
Petty
Its a real shame, if you really think about it.
High school love. So many pheromones gone to
waste. All these emotions, and for what? All
these raging hormones and beating hearts and
butterflies? For a silly memory and a jaded
heart? Or is it that notch in your belt? Or, my
favorite, its because you actually believe
youre going to find love. Ha. Makes me chuckle
every time I hear it. There isnt a diamond in
rough. No soul mates in this hell hole. So why
are they all taking it so seriously. Just accept
that all were going to get is a few hickeys,
emotional baggage, and for the really lucky ones,
an STD.
16
Hush Child
Hush child Has history taught you nothing No one
wants to hear the truth It makes us look bad Th
is is a time for Scape goats and hyperboles Fal
se happiness and glamour National enquired and pe
tty grudges So shut your mouth Shut your mind H
ear, dont see Theres nothing to find Say what
s polite, only whats expected
Take the face value Nothing should go inspected
Nothing need depth Insight isnt right Understan
ding is for the weak Leave thought for the meek
Leave the rest of us bliss Shrouded with lies An
d ignorance With bleached smiles And superficial
thought
We dont need it If it cant be bought.
17
Reflections

• This year Ive gained the knowledge that writing
  sound s a lot better when youre not being
  polite. Its way more interesting when youre
  being blunt.
• The grammar is really helping in Latin.
• For this chapter I like hush child, because its
  some of my poetry that I do when I do. Its how I
  really write.
  
• This year Ive forced myself, a lot, to just sit
  down and start writing. Or Ill use something
  completely random and force myself to work with
  it. It works. Its just getting started thats
  hard.

18
Reflections (cont.)
5.I think Im good at taking a new and
imaginative perspective on things.
6. Ive realized that I really hate describing
peoples appearances. I really love writing about
their personality and why they are each way.
7. I think I need to continue everything. Ive
got a lot to develop in every way.
19
Chapter two.
20
Wolf in friends clothing

• Wolf In Friends Clothing The shadows mock me.
  They point and laughs and watch. They wait.
  Trip. Fall. Lie. Love. mistake. The beg. They
  plead. The beseech for something to say. And the
  world has always been a stage. And their eyes so
  accusing. Dont mess up. dont say the right
  thing. The walls dont just have ears. "What
  big ears you have." "The better to misinterpret
  you with." "What big eyes you have" "The better
  to judge you with." "What a nice voice you have"
  "The better to gossip with" "What nice
  intentions you have" "The better to taunt you
  with" "What big teeth you have "The better to
  eat you with."

21
Snow

• I hate snow. And Im not saying it in that oh,
  everyone else likes snow so I want to be cool and
  different. No, I hate snow.
  
• We could start with all the obvious reasons, like
  its cold. And makes driving impossible, and gets
  in the way of all my plans. But its more than a
  nuisance.
• Its a show off. Like the kid in class who always
  feels the need to correct the teacher and is so
  sure of his or herself despite everyone,
  including the teacher, hates his or her guts. But
  snow is blinded by its own perfection it cant
  bother to notice no one really wants it around.
• Its white. Not just white, but blinding bleached
  teeth white. People when sunglasses in the snow.
  Thats disgusting. But I dont care that its
  white except for the effects of it being white.
  Like after a few hours of cars be able to drive
  again, you notice all the dirt being built up on
  the sides. Now, the dirt and pollution has always
  been there. But as a good American, I pride
  myself in not caring or noticing it. Snow, on the
  other hand, prides itself and say oh, look at
  the dirt. You people are so dirty but Im so nice
  and clean and now youre getting me dirty and
  its all your fault and I hope you feel bad and
  disgusting.
• Its not just the color. Its perfect. Its
  perfectly unique. Each snow flake is different,
  an individual? Yet each manages to nicely
  compliment each other, be admired. Sure, humans
  are all unique, individual, no two are alike. But
  we definitely dont compliment each other. Thats
  just snow, being its showoff-y self.

22
XY

• This time was different. I Stood by the phone for
  a few days, expecting you to call back. I kept
  your things in a zip lock bag, expecting to
  unpack them any day. I kept the little bracelet
  you gave me on my wrist, and then it moved to my
  dresser top. And slowly if found itself in the
  bag. I still waited.
• I didnt break out my journal. Not this time. And
  then, it happened. I think I was talking about
  Led Zeppelin and if they were really that great.
  Maybe it was hot air balloons. Or even the now
  epic battle of Ninjas and Dinosaurs, since we
  already determined the pirates dont have a
  chance. That was the conversation. And as he
  heatedly explained how the herbivores would still
  be valuable to the fighting process, I picked up
  the bag. And I opened they green box. Right now
  its about a foot by foot box, I think thats
  sufficient since Im only 15. Itll get bigger
  when I get older. All my notes, all my memories.
  All the boys.
• I moved on quick enough. I think its been 3
  weeks, I like this new boyfriend a lot. Weve
  been together 4 days. Its got the typical
  euphoric start. I wonder when things will fail. I
  wonder what exactly itll be. Maybe well just
  run out of things to say. Maybe hell want more
  then I can offer. Maybe I should just be happy.
• Well, there was one boy I got bored with. It
  wasnt a big loss. We dated for one month,
  exactly. I didnt know him well, but he had a
  cute face and a perverted personality, which over
  the summer I found extremely charming, despite my
  current contempt for the humor. I was happy at
  first. He accepted my boundaries like that all
  do. And he said all the nice things the rest of
  them said. And did everything youre supposed to,
  I guess.
• Thats why I was bored. I think I really like
  being ignored. Im not often ignored. It makes me
  work harder for attention. But Im amazingly
  opposed to being an attention whore. So Ill
  spend days lying around thinking of way to get
  attention without looking like Im try to get
  some. And then it doesnt matter because
  eventually well get tired of trying so hard. And
  well both be convinced it was the others fault
  things failed.
• Once I was abused. It was fascinating. He had a
  tragic drug addiction and abusive parents and the
  whole thing. And hed throw fits daily because I
  wouldnt have sex with him, and threatened to
  rape me and everything. And hed push me around.
  I always wanted to see how far hed go. The way
  he threatened me. I wanted to see if it was true,
  if hed dare. He knew that to. It was a sick
  sense of humor, I know, but I was undeniably
  amused. We ended when he admited he was having
  sex with this girl the whole time. I think I
  already knew, but I didnt want to accuse him, I
  knew hed deny it.
• This boyfriend hasnt said anything mean, and
  weve got the same sick humor, and we click. I
  didnt think people really clicked, I thought it
  was something you just heard about. Like in books
  and stuff because they dont actually have a
  reason for the characters to be together, so they
  say they click. Its nice.

23
Sans Self.

• I like songs where people sound like theyre
  about to cry. Not the emo pathetic heres-my
  heart-kind. The kind where theyre angry. Thats
  the most interesting feeling to watch in other.
  Their face keeps changing. A mix of knocking
  heads off and nervous breakdown and utter
  confusion and self pity. Its stunning. And tears
  roll down people faces but they dont withdraw,
  the polite thing to do when youre upset. They
  ignore the polite thing. The courtesies. They
  selfish.
• Selfish is beautiful. I think I like being around
  selfish people most because I always know what
  theyll do, what theyll want. I want to be
  spontaneous, I need everyone else to be
  predictable. That way I know who to take where,
  who to be around depending on my mood.
• And I always want to be around people when
  theyre angry on the verge of tears. Thats not
  when they want a hug and a shoulder to cry on.
  Thats when they scream. When self control is
  outdated. Theyre pure. Sans reality. Sans

24
Objectify

• They say Im really paranoid. I personify
  everything. Everything has emotions, everything
  has motives, everything has hate.
  
• Its true. Not everything can love, but
  everything can hate. And I think they use the
  same part of the brain. I think theyre almost
  the same emotion. Its just you choose if youre
  a hater or a lover. You either choose to love, or
  you choose to hate. And once you decide to hate
  something you can never ever love. And vise
  versa. Both are curses.
• Im positive everything hates me. My backpack, my
  door, my computer, my neighbor, my sewing
  machine, my grass, my trampoline, my car, my
  journals, my pens, and this very keyboard. And I
  can feel it judging me. I can feel everything
  judging me.
• People all judge the same. Objects dont. They
  can see something everyone else can. They see you
  as an object, like you see them. They objectify
  you. Thats when I personify them. Its only
  fair. Treat things like you want to be treated.
  Treat nouns like you want to be treated.
• Thats it. Every noun can have a verb. Language
  explains everything. Language is everything.

25
The Dangerous Art

• It starts with the request. The grand pleading of
  the damsel in distress. I moved my chivalrous
  self of the couch. A peril in itself, to remove
  yourself from a see of cotton denim and fluffed
  pillows. The grand 6-foot couch became a huge
  sea, and there you are, in the middle of a
  current.
• It grabs and drags and heaves until youre
  submerged in its cloud-like depths, begging to
  Neptune there will be mercy on your gluttonous
  soul. Gluttonous because you cant bare to part
  with the comfort of the self warmed seats, the
  miles of fleece covering like the cloud, and you,
  the helpless ship, caught in the depths of throw
  pillows and stuffing.
• But soon youre spat out, onto a carpeted hard
  floor, reminding you of reality. But the world
  isnt kind in reality. Legos thrown about like
  land mines, ready to get you were it hurts. Shoes
  are proven to be a gazillion times more likely to
  trip you when detached from the foot. The kids
  meal toys waiting to pounce, the dust bunnies
  ready to suffocate, or at least gross you out.
  And some smashed cracker mocks you, with its
  inimical tone. And the usual agility and speed
  and obvious skill once had has been sucked away
  by that damn couch laughing inches away.
• Step. Shoe. Step. Lego. Step. Trip. Fall. Attack!
  Dust bunnies get their chance. Theyd waited all
  to long, and boom, running out from every crack
  and crevice, under every couch, here they are.
  And the change! Lincolns rolling full speed ahead
  to bring you to your monetary doom.
• What are you doing on the floor? Aw, yes, sweet
  words of encouragement from the damsel herself. A
  jolt of energy and bam. Those once threats are
  now silly minions. But there are bigger fish to
  fry.

26
Dangerous Art (cont.)

• The days contents are stacked on the table.
  Newspapers, homework, mail, and things left out
  from breakfast. A massive pile of paper cuts
  waiting to happen. Each edge just waiting to dig
  into your innocent skin with its razor sharp
  edges. Death lurks on each corner. Suddenly those
  funnies arent so funny, are they? Trying to
  separate junk from the good stuff, trying to
  multi task reading all the headlines while
  protecting your skin from being scoured with
  blood clots. And finally the life-threatening
  task is done, all junk lies in the recycling bin
  awaiting its eco-friendly grave.
• The cleared table becomes an artists canvas.
  For now it looks so friendly, with its nice
  plaid cotton tablecloth and those innocent
  chairs. Innocent for now. But theres more to do
  before focusing on that. The silverware. If I
  were a werewolf, Id be dead meat. Those shining
  rows and rows of silver, pointed at the end, just
  waiting to make you meet your maker.
• Sticking your hand into that organize drawer of
  terror is pure suicide, but Danger is my middle
  name. Grab for the handle. One. Two. Three. Four.
  Forks. The spoons might not seems dangerous, but
  theyre the worse. Every carved out a pumpkin?
  Yea. Just replace that pumpkin with you and then
  imagine how things go. But my brave little
  fingers know no bounds. One. Two. Three. Four.
  Spoons.
• Phew. That was close. Now for the knives. Yes.
  Every horror movies best friend. Every secret
  agents ally. And every table setters arch
  nemesis. One knife. All eyes in tact. Two knives.
  No missing fingers, yet. Three knives. All limbs
  where they were, for now. Four knives. Mission
  accomplished, but barely.
• And now that table. That massive chunk of wood
  just waiting to cover you with splinters. Napkins
  here are your only defense against the dark
  forces. Dont be fooled by its cool design. Its
  round edges. Its quaint appeal. Its laden with
  cruel intentions. Spoon. Fork Knife. The table
  has yet to fling itself at me. Spoon. Fork.
  Knife. No reenacting of House of Flying Daggers.
  Spoon. Fork. Knife. So close, yet so far away.
  Spoon. Calm before the storm. Fork. Dust bunnies
  are eyeing. Knife. Flee!
• That was a close one. Just wait for dinner.

27
Silly Girl

• Pick a face
• Please
• Be a doll
• It doesnt matter
• Youll still fall
• Itll take a lot
• To change our mind
• And when you do
• Youll hate to find
• It doesnt matter
• What you say
• Well still hate you
• Anyway.

28
Zombie

• who do you think you are
• Just rising from the dead
• Just showing up
• when I finally got you
• Out of my head.
• Youre out of my mind.
• You were, I swear
• And then you show up
• Just standing there.
• Like I miss you
• Like I care
• Well I dont
• And this isnt fair.

29
Adventure Story

• mhm

30
Reflections

• This year I believe Ive really found my voice. I
  think its starting to be more clear my style of
  writing and poetry. I definitely dont use the
  skills from this class in any other class. I
  dont take English, so pretty much this is just
  helping me write notes to kids. They enjoy the
  notes, so I guess thats good. I bet my teachers
  dont appreciate it that much. I really like my
  historical fiction, I put a lot of time into
  that. I think thats clear by its length. I
  think I did a good job with the rising action,
  climax, falling action, and resolution. And Im
  starting to develop foreshadowing.
• I havent had challenges writing this semester.
  In fact, Im always writing anyway and I tend to
  just find a piece I wrote a week ago that fits
  the assignment and Ill turn that in. I guess
  its a pretty convenient way to get honest
  feedback on my writing.
• I think my strengths are in voice and grammar.
  Im pretty big on grammar, so I tend not to make
  that many fo those little mistakes. Or I can at
  least catch them on my own. But I really need to
  develop the resolution to my stories. Im great
  at rambling, but not so much at actually writing
  a story with a climax and logical resolution.

31
Journal Entry 1
I felt the water engulf me and flow sweetly as a
ravenous boogieman. I pushed off the bottom and
escaped the clutches of the chlorinated monster.
And just as I reached the warm, welcoming,
waiting air above me, I saw him. I saw the
goddamn hillbilly good for nothing piece of _at_
jump right off the stupid diving board and land
right on yours truly! Thats all I remember, what
happened after that is just what I hear and my
beautiful mind conjured up. I was put into a
coma, drowned, and nearly escaped the ravenous
clutches of the Lakeside Pool boogieman. I woke
up in a hospital, full of a tiny vase, full of
one measly flower, and one sincere apology note,
saying Sorry. Bob What kind of name is Bob?
Ill tell you what kind! Bob is the name of my
boneheaded stepbrother from Alabama. Hes a good
for nothing redneck, just like his good for
nothing mom.
32
Journal Entry 1 (cont.)

• And youll never guess how I became blessed with
  having such a piece of ! for a step brother
  and step mom. They met in the hospital room where
  I rest after the tragic, obvious homicide
  attempt. And from how they were acting after my
  therapy that day, two years ago, thats the same
  room where my stupid little inbred half brother
  was conceived. I dont know why those stupid
  hillbillies had to come up to this nice suburban
  town, but here they are. Swimming in my Lakeside
  pool and Im stuck playing in this stupid kiddy
  pool with my stupid half hillbilly half brother,
  navigating through the treacherous gallons of
  baby pee and chemical with a stupid little half
  hillbilly half brother screaming Roller coaster!
  Roller coaster! on my back.

33
Journal Entry 2
Feast upon the Living dead No! the little boy
said assuming cooked meant the vegetables dead
Its nasty and gross Id eat none at the most
That night the child went unfed
The same happened the very next night Shut up
it said, caused quite a fright Who goes
there? child asked with a stare Beans stared
back thats right
Every night its exactly the same, you go unfed
and were to blame Well, no more! And they
rolled out the door And dinner was never the
same.
34
Journal Entry 3
Theres not a lot To be said for thought In this
modern age When the worlds obsession Is materi
al possession
But its all Ive got
35
Journal Entry 4
the ink of the scholar is more sacred then the
blood of the martyr
36
Journal Entry 5
37
Writing Assignment
Wisdom. Some old man with a cane? Prophets
rambling about the would-be, could-be, should-be?
Metaphors that take you a lifetime to decipher?
Or maybe a little girl spinning wildly under a
big maple tree as it pours its dry rain in a
stunning show of color. Of reds and oranges and
browns and greens and a pastel yellow dress
twirling through it all. Which of these is
wisdom? Clara Dishman. Everyone knew she was pecu
liar. You could just look at her and know that.
She seemed to have a complete disregard of what
the rest of us thought. She seemed to not care
about a thing in the world. She seemed about as
bright as a five year old. She seemed silent and
simple. She seemed. So she seemed. But maybe the
wisdom is knowing things are never as they seem.

38

• I stepped last onto the bus, staring around
  fearfully at the seat, filled to overflowing with
  3 kids per seat, each and every one of them.
  People spilled into the aisles and it was a
  jungle of kids trapped in a giant yellow cage.
  Yet, third row from the front, in long flowing
  pastel yellow dress, staring out the window, sat,
  all alone, Clara Dishman. What could be the harm?
  She wont even notice me, right?
• Wrong. Every kid on that bus was well aware of my
  strange decision. The bus grew silent for a
  moment, and then a slow hum of whispers. A slow
  hum turned to a steady growl. A steady growl
  turned into quickened chitchat. And alas, the bus
  restored itself back to yells and hollering and
  screaming of animals. Animals in a cage. She
  noticed me.
• Yea. I really tried to make my voice sound like
  I didnt care. Who in their right mind would want
  to talk to the social outcast? The weird of the
  weird? The Clara Dishman? The girl that in a cage
  full of kids finds the only empty spot. She
  seemed like a curse, no one wanting to touch her.
  The leper of my elementary school.

39

• Itd be a lot easier if everyone hushed a bit
  and sat down. We could all converse easier. And
  when someone needed to move, itd be less of a
  jungle and more of a simple feet moving from
  point A to point B. Converse? Who says that? She
  spoke with a certain glow though. I could not
  help but to be reeled in to her every word, as
  much as my reputation told me to back away slowly
  and run for your life.
• I guess. I had to reply. Like a curse, her
  questions begged for an answer. So maybe my
  response wasnt as lengthy and verbose, but at
  least I acknowledged her? At least I graced the
  little weird kid with my awesome presence.
  Besides, after that she had no reply. Id stumped
  her! Or maybe just given her no material to
  continue a conversation off of. She looked back
  out the window with a hint of disappointment on
  her face.
• I thought you were at least a little different.
  It was under her breath, but just loud enough to
  know she wanted me to hear that. Her curly brown
  hair in relaxed locks, flowing off her shoulders
  and complimenting her pale skin, matched her dark
  brown eyes and gave such a peculiar face.
  Peculiar like shed had the lowest expectations
  but the highest hope for you. A sense of
  disappointment, like when a baby messes up. You
  cant blame them, because they dont know any
  better. Thats the look she gave. Id never seen
  someone stare like that. Like they knew exactly
  who you were and what you were like. She wasnt
  stupid. She knew exactly how I was going to
  respond to her. But a certain hope made her try
  anyways.

40

• It was like a jungle getting to this seat. Too
  bad I didnt have my machete. I tried to keep my
  eyes straightforward on the profanity carved into
  the seat in front, but I knew she had at least a
  little smile on her face. There, I did it. I
  engaged her. Social Suicide. Shed better make it
  worthwhile.
• Well, you could just be me. Like a skunk.
  Everyone jumps out of my way in fear Ill do
  something terrible or something, she said it
  like a joke, but I guess the funny part was
  supposed to be that it was true. I giggled, but
  in the back of my mind I couldnt help but to
  feel guilty. She was turning out not to be as bad
  as she seemed. Damnit.
• The bus came to a halt and the doors opened,
  contents flooding out. The kids were like liquid,
  cramming into every crack and crevice to get out.
  I considered crowd surfing, and then I noticed
  Clara didnt even flinch from her seat. Are you
  coming to school?
• Of course.
• So
• Whats the point of getting stuck in that mess
  when I could wait sixty seconds and walk off, no
  trouble? Its not like Im so eager to get to
  school I cant wait a minute. Her logic was too
  true, and I could feel the slow stabs of rumors
  by the passerbys as I sat back down. Most weird
  kids are weird because of the way they talk. They
  know too much, and dont know anything about the
  social rules. She was different. She wasnt
  inept. She wasnt unaware. She just had something
  better to say and no one better to say it to. The
  guilt sunk in again, and a sudden urge to be
  impressive and say something logical and witty
  and profound.

41

• I hate that show. That was my best shot. A
  television reference. I couldve smacked myself,
  but I didnt need her to think I was retarded and
  self-abusive.
• What?
• Uhm. Sixty seconds. Its a little television
  clip. Its just a little news report in between
  shows. Its, uh, sixty seconds long. Anyone else
  I wouldve said my soaps but I had a feeling
  knowing I watch television at all couldnt
  impress her.
• Oh. Oh. She was completely disinterested. And
  the aisle began to clear up. I walked off and
  spent the rest of the day hoping that by the end
  Id have something interesting to say.
• I exited school and saw a pastel yellow dress
  walking into the path through the woods. . What
  are you doing? Why would she walk? We lived five
  or six miles away itd take a couple of hours to
  comfortably walk back. My shows! Id miss my
  shows. Oh those stupid shows, they werent
  impressive anyways. I ran over to her. Why do
  you walk?
• Its pretty and peaceful. For the first time I
  looked around. Leaves, of every color and type,
  carpeted the ground, and the trees lay like a web
  above us. The sun seeped through lazily and
  suddenly I think I said the right thing.
• Lets play. I grabbed some leaves and threw
  them up in the air, making my own dry rain. Clara
  laughed and grabbed some more, throwing it up and
  twirling in it as it fell like poetry all around
  her. She was just a kid like a rest of us. But
  she seemed more then a kid. She was more then a
  kid. She had wisdom. She was wisdom. She was a
  little girl spinning wildly under a big maple
  tree as it pours its dry rain in a stunning show
  of color. Of reds and oranges and browns and
  greens and a pastel yellow dress twirling through
  it all.

42
Poetry
My name is Mary And this is my son The rest have
died Starved, every one My name is Mary Its 1
929 Im 21 Without a dime Struggling through A
n economic depression With my son As my only pos
sesion
Someone grab a doctor! Someone grab a nurse! Get
this man some blood
And oxygen And a hurse.
43
Additional Writing Assignment
44
Reflections
The most challenging assignment was my
additional piece, because it wasnt a structures
assignment. It was just a broad prompt. And the
requirement was to make it a 3 page story. (for
English class)
Im most proud of my character sketch, because I
got the most compliments on it.
Im not including my autobiography because its
not a good representation of my work.
45
Best Sentences.

• I felt the water engulf me and flow sweetly as a
  ravenous boogieman.
  
• I like this sentence because of the
  contradiction. You wouldnt associate sweet and
  ravenous. And its meant to be sarcastic, which
  tends to be a very hard thing to relay to
  readers.
• People spilled into the aisles and it was a
  jungle of kids trapped in a giant yellow cage.
  
• I like this one because it shows how wonderful I
  am at giving imagery.