Okay, I just now got on the computer.
Why?
Because Ch1k3n has been on the computer ever since 10 in the morning.
It is now 3 in the afternoon.
FIVE WHOLE HOURS OF MINECRAFT!!
And I mean, whole hours cause he only stopped to get breakfast.
"I'm almost done... I'm almost done..."
That's what I've been hearing for the past, like, three hours.
Right, almost done.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Answer to Sam's Question!
Oh, Sam, I get your question.
I mean you do even more dares than I do.
Like I'm almost nothing compared to you.
So if you were there instead...
Carl would've probably passed out.
I mean you do even more dares than I do.
Like I'm almost nothing compared to you.
So if you were there instead...
Carl would've probably passed out.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Broken Window Part 2
Here is the other part to "Broken Window"--
--------
I longed for my old life—before my very existence was illegal. I wish our town would revert to how it was before. I wish grandfather…
Days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months. Times would come once a week when the ‘population committee’ would come and look for me.
I would hide upstairs in servile routine. They never found me, although I heard news of some kids being dragged away.
As winter approached, days seemed to be longer.
It was an especially gloomy day when the highest point in my life came.
I watched as the slightly grey clouds evolved into a thunderstorm. It was peaceful, and I was home alone. My family was at a town meeting.
Suddenly, a discordant knock rang through the house. I quietly climbed into the attic. Out of the window, I observed as a helicopter hovered in the air.
They were searching. This was more serious than I thought.
I groped around for a blanket to hide under. I found a brown fleece throw that blended in with the couch. I sank between the cushions.
Silence.
Then a knock. A loud knock.
No, it couldn’t be simply knuckles on wood.
They must have been boots.
Someone was trying to break through.
BANG! Glass and wood shattered. My eyes widened.
Police filled the house, jostling through the door. My heart pounded. I tried to keep my breathing so that I wasn’t noticeable.
Footsteps pounded on the stairs. Voices yelled indistinct words.
What was I to do? I had been through this before, I reviewed it many times, recited the procedures for it this happened.
But I couldn’t remember it. No, not now. Not when I was rushing, everything surging through my head.
I was in danger. No, scratch that, my life was in danger. The whole being of my family was at stake.
It was up to me.
I had to collaborate my many scattered ideas to form a straight plan.
I put the facts straight.
The police were in the floor under me.
I was in the attic. Three stories high.
There was a window.
No, if I jumped out I would die.
Wait… there was a ledge under it. I could crawl onto it… It would leave me enough to jump the rest of the way.
I was not a laggard; I could make it fast enough.
I held my breath and crawled out of the couch. The police were still under me. At the window, I tried to push open it.
It was locked.
I tried the latch.
It was welded shut.
What was wrong with this house?
Footsteps were going down the stairs. I let out my breath, relived, before realizing that they weren’t going down—they were coming up!
I thought about my situation again.
I was in the attic.
I had a plan.
The plan includes careening out of a window three stories up.
Window—locked! = no going out!
I tried the smartest thing I could do. I grabbed a ceramic cup and chunked it at the window. The cup shattered. Right. Ceramic teacups= not stronger than windows!
The next thing I saw was a lamp.
Oh dear.
I unplugged it and hurled it at the window. This time the window shattered.
The door burst open.
I’m not even sure how long I stood, staring face to face with the police, their rifles pointed at my head.
Uh oh.
Police about to blast your face off= not good!
They yelled something that I didn’t hear. I was busy charging to the window.
Reality came back to me as a glass shard scraped a deep scratch along the entire length of my leg. I tumbled onto the ledge under me. Police were yelling right above me.
Bullets blasted the windows under me. Glass particles were flying everywhere. How did I get myself into this situation?
I had to live. No kidding ‘police= uh oh!’ anymore.
This was life—death facing me. At the age of thirteen. Too much.
I jumped down. Everything went in slow motion.
Glass blasted under me.
A bullet whizzed past my left ear.
Police yelled indistinctly.
I hit the grass. Hard.
Everything came back to me. Bullets were chasing me. Why couldn’t they take it easy on this poor kid trying to save her life?
I sprinted across the rubble.
I ran and ran and ran.
Into the forest, I ran, hurdling straight over a tree branch.
The sun went down. I was still at full speed, adrenaline kicking in, and multiplying my senses by the dozens.
While I ran, I thought hard about the past months. About grandfather and his last words. Wait—“When one window closes, another will be opened.” Didn’t I just save my life by jumping out of a window? …How would he have known?
By night I reached a town. I found a family that housed me.
They let me stay in their guest room and promised to retrieve my relatives.
I don’t have much, but I still have hope.
And the kindness of the people of this house, where I am writing this tonight.
--------
I longed for my old life—before my very existence was illegal. I wish our town would revert to how it was before. I wish grandfather…
Days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months. Times would come once a week when the ‘population committee’ would come and look for me.
I would hide upstairs in servile routine. They never found me, although I heard news of some kids being dragged away.
As winter approached, days seemed to be longer.
It was an especially gloomy day when the highest point in my life came.
I watched as the slightly grey clouds evolved into a thunderstorm. It was peaceful, and I was home alone. My family was at a town meeting.
Suddenly, a discordant knock rang through the house. I quietly climbed into the attic. Out of the window, I observed as a helicopter hovered in the air.
They were searching. This was more serious than I thought.
I groped around for a blanket to hide under. I found a brown fleece throw that blended in with the couch. I sank between the cushions.
Silence.
Then a knock. A loud knock.
No, it couldn’t be simply knuckles on wood.
They must have been boots.
Someone was trying to break through.
BANG! Glass and wood shattered. My eyes widened.
Police filled the house, jostling through the door. My heart pounded. I tried to keep my breathing so that I wasn’t noticeable.
Footsteps pounded on the stairs. Voices yelled indistinct words.
What was I to do? I had been through this before, I reviewed it many times, recited the procedures for it this happened.
But I couldn’t remember it. No, not now. Not when I was rushing, everything surging through my head.
I was in danger. No, scratch that, my life was in danger. The whole being of my family was at stake.
It was up to me.
I had to collaborate my many scattered ideas to form a straight plan.
I put the facts straight.
The police were in the floor under me.
I was in the attic. Three stories high.
There was a window.
No, if I jumped out I would die.
Wait… there was a ledge under it. I could crawl onto it… It would leave me enough to jump the rest of the way.
I was not a laggard; I could make it fast enough.
I held my breath and crawled out of the couch. The police were still under me. At the window, I tried to push open it.
It was locked.
I tried the latch.
It was welded shut.
What was wrong with this house?
Footsteps were going down the stairs. I let out my breath, relived, before realizing that they weren’t going down—they were coming up!
I thought about my situation again.
I was in the attic.
I had a plan.
The plan includes careening out of a window three stories up.
Window—locked! = no going out!
I tried the smartest thing I could do. I grabbed a ceramic cup and chunked it at the window. The cup shattered. Right. Ceramic teacups= not stronger than windows!
The next thing I saw was a lamp.
Oh dear.
I unplugged it and hurled it at the window. This time the window shattered.
The door burst open.
I’m not even sure how long I stood, staring face to face with the police, their rifles pointed at my head.
Uh oh.
Police about to blast your face off= not good!
They yelled something that I didn’t hear. I was busy charging to the window.
Reality came back to me as a glass shard scraped a deep scratch along the entire length of my leg. I tumbled onto the ledge under me. Police were yelling right above me.
Bullets blasted the windows under me. Glass particles were flying everywhere. How did I get myself into this situation?
I had to live. No kidding ‘police= uh oh!’ anymore.
This was life—death facing me. At the age of thirteen. Too much.
I jumped down. Everything went in slow motion.
Glass blasted under me.
A bullet whizzed past my left ear.
Police yelled indistinctly.
I hit the grass. Hard.
Everything came back to me. Bullets were chasing me. Why couldn’t they take it easy on this poor kid trying to save her life?
I sprinted across the rubble.
I ran and ran and ran.
Into the forest, I ran, hurdling straight over a tree branch.
The sun went down. I was still at full speed, adrenaline kicking in, and multiplying my senses by the dozens.
While I ran, I thought hard about the past months. About grandfather and his last words. Wait—“When one window closes, another will be opened.” Didn’t I just save my life by jumping out of a window? …How would he have known?
By night I reached a town. I found a family that housed me.
They let me stay in their guest room and promised to retrieve my relatives.
I don’t have much, but I still have hope.
And the kindness of the people of this house, where I am writing this tonight.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
And, Yet Another Poem (titled 'Fantasy')
Take a paintbrush
Dip it in
The mystery
Of fantasy.
Streak the paint
Across the sky,
Free the birds,
And let them fly.
Paint the trees,
A silhouette,
Black against
The bronze sunset.
Dip the brush
In radiate blaze
And paint the sun’s
Bright golden rays.
Dip it in
The mystery
Of fantasy.
Streak the paint
Across the sky,
Free the birds,
And let them fly.
Paint the trees,
A silhouette,
Black against
The bronze sunset.
Dip the brush
In radiate blaze
And paint the sun’s
Bright golden rays.
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