One Act Play

Samantha and Mitchell are neighbors. They have had a bad history as neighbors, and today they will experience a unique encounter. Samantha is stepping out of the car as Mitchell is leaving his house.

Samantha:[Splat] (In a angry, firm tone) MR. MITCHELL HASTINGS! (takes a deep breath) This is the last time I will ask. Please pick up after your unsanitary canine!

Mitch: Miss Adams, my, uh "unsanitary canine" is not my problem. After all it is his duty. Psh! Ta! Ha!

Samantha: Well, Mr. Hastings, it is your responsibility to maintain his hygiene.  And I'll just say that the specimen on my Achilles is not properly disposed of,... nor maintained.

Mitch: Well... Miss Adams. If this is an issue I'll uh buy ya some new shoes or somethi-

Samantha: "If"? "If this is an issue"? I can assure you that this is not an issue.

Mitch: Alright well-

Samantha: This is a TRAGEDY! A tragedy I tell you!

Mitch: Alright, okay, just write down the shows ya want and I'll ah-

Samantha: No I assure you, I don't wish for new footwear. What I ask is that this massacre you call an "issue", doesn't proceed again!

Mitch: Hey, no need to get all she-devil on me.

Samantha: Uh! and don't even get me started on your horrendous vocabulary! Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps that is why you're still living in your mother below level? Hm?

Mitch: Has it ever occurred to you that you're rude? Huh? Perhaps that's why you're still divorced!

Samantha: OH! How insulting! I am truly appalled Mr. Hastings!

Mitch: You're embarrassed? How do you think I feel?

Samantha: Embarrassed? That's not-

Mitch: Yeah! You and your mean ways...

Samantha: If you'd only clean up after you dog!

(As they continue to argue the car radio Goes on in the background)

Broadcaster: And lastly, a dog has gone missing on the North side. (Continues speaking) For any information please call...

Samantha: And you know what?

Mitch: What!?

Samantha: I hope your animal goes missing!

Mitch: Oh yeah?

Samantha: Yes indeed!

Mitch: And I hope your shoes go missing!

Samantha: Good!

Mitch: Good!

(They each get in their car and exit the drive way. Both angered,they back into each other. they exit their cars and continue fighting).

Mitch: LOOK WHAT YOU DID. Oh my goodness!

Samantha: This is your fault!

Mitch: No!

Samantha: Yes!

(Radio continues in back)

Broadcaster: Breaking news an armed robber has just broken into the bank on 34th. I am being told now that there is hostages.

(Broadcaster continues to explain the extremity of the situation)

Mitch: Just move on. Just forget this.

Samantha: I'll put the police on the phone. They'll take care of this mess.

Mitch: Weren't you listening to the reporter? No cops can help!

Samantha: If you were more careful...

Mitch: Miss Adams! This arguing is useless don't you see? Stop passing the blame. We need to move on.

Samantha: Yes but-

Mitch: Yes but, this fighting is too much! The cops are doing their job, which doesn't include us!

Samantha: Their job is to help civilians which we-

Mitch: Their job is to help civilians. People at the bank.

(A moment of silence is shared before they come to a consensus)

Samantha: Well.

Mitch: Well.

Samantha: First, I suppose we should apologize.

Mitch: Sorry. My bad.

Samantha: I apologize.

Mitch: Now what do we do.

Samantha: Let's see here.

[The End]

From the Flame- Picture Passage 6

Emitting from the flame was fear. At that moment, it was the most peaceful place she could be. However, Ava was still aggravated. She was frustrated with her situation. The  sadness bottled up inside her was too much for her to handle. She sat near the fire surrounded by family and loved ones. It was her brother's birthday, but Ava was too upset to enjoy herself.

"Want a marshmallow?" asked her mother.

She shook her head no. Anger and regret was what bothered her the most. It filled her bones and swam her veins. What bothered her when more was that she could not pin point her anger. The stress of a high schooler bothered her enough. Now that she was moving, that problem would fade. But to be mad at her parents or herself or fate, she couldn't decide.

By deciding to keep quiet, Ava began a complicated journey that would later unfold in her new surroundings. A new year, a new town, and a new Ava.

 

 

The Lake- Picture Passage #5

Heat shined around the giant, aging mountain. It beat down over like a spotlight in a Broadway show. It was well defined and carried plenty of nutrition to the leafy floor. Standing on the shore, all that filled my thoughts was amazement. “Wow” is the only word I could produce that could begin to describe my thoughts. Dampness in the air suggested the day would be hot. To counter the humidity, the lake made a relaxing wind. I wanted to jump in. I wanted to stand at the peak. Birds perched in the tree that bordered the water. They sang a unique melody. One that always varied. As the earth continued to breathe, I imagined how refreshing the water would feel. I came to the realization that nothing was stopping me. I grabbed equipment and went through the water. On the other side, the floating land greeted me. Gazing up at the mountain, I started walking. The hike was long, yet enjoyable. The summit was definitely worth it. All around the island you could see the tiny cottages. From this height, they looked like dwarfs occupied them. This location altered my perspective. I was able to admire the creations as a whole. Beautiful, and unstoppable.

7:06 - Picture Passage #4

      Frustrated by frost that glimmered in the morning haze, Mark was in panic. He was taken by surprise to awake with his car to be claimed by the winter. It was completely unexpected, especially for this time of year. His routine was unexpectedly interrupted by the earth’s freezing.  Evidence of ice from the previous night covered her surface.

                Mark looked at his wrist. It was 7:02. He was two minutes off his daily schedule which consisted of preparing himself for work and never included tardiness. The calm back roads he traveled through, always allowed Mark to arrive to his destinations when he needed to.  Unprepared, Mark had to wait an extra minute and a half for his vehicle to wake up.  He was so distraught by his predicament, that his left pinky began twitching. He was almost unable to turn the engine key.

                Bordering the line of panic attack, he got into his car. It was still filled with coolness that resembled the breath of an Artic breeze.

                When it was precisely 7:06, when he was finally able to start his day’s journey. Left onto Main, then a sharp right onto Dean.  He approached the intersection which sat below the dangling red blinking.  Beyond the light there was a car parked with the driver’s door open.  As he passed it, he noticed it wasn’t parked. The car had slipped and plummeted and its driver lay asleep. He cautiously drove around and pulled over.  Immediately, Mark’s panic transformed him into a maniac. He dialed 911, and temporarily joined the driver in a slumber.

Good and Bad- Picture Passage #3

Good and bad. Dark and light.  Dreams and nightmares. The division is clear. When you experience these things you create a profile for yourself. Are you good or bad? Dark or light? Is this a dream or a nightmare? What is good if bad is not good? Ask yourself which are you, but whatever you answer, know that you are wrong. We are good and bad. We are dark and light. Nightmares thrive through our dreams. There is darkness in each of us. It roams our mind waiting to feast on our insecurities, and praying to be revealed. Born, we are given the dark, the light, and a choice. An option of which we choose to be judged as, even though there is no true definition. We can choose to be admired and prideful, or allow the shadows to take over. For some, there lies a medium. Where you can be a “good bad” or a “bad good”. Where there is no temptation or fear; no right or wrong.  In the end, it is up to us. If you ask me, I suppose it just varies on perspective. I could be evil. It just depends on how you define “good”.

Her Words- Picture Passage #2

s

 Her soft words hypnotized me with every word she spoke.  Each sentence she composed flowed swiftly together like the wind’s breeze.  I never questioned her actions- a deep regret I bare. 

They say opposites attract. I am shy and afraid. She was what I needed.

“…just through here.”

“Into the woods?...We’re going-”she cut me off.

“It’s not what you think, Will. You haven’t been there before.” After collecting her thoughts, she continued. “It’s empty and isolated. When you’re out there… I can’t explain it. You’ll see."

We continued walking. Beautiful greens surrounded the floor in the distance. Soon the forest was divided, creating a hallway of trees. They stood parallel with strength and pride like soldiers saluting a lost soul. She turned around to catch my reaction.

“See.”

She paced ahead taking in the abstract scenery.

“It looks like something you’d see in the movies.”

“Yeah it does.. but that’s not what I wanted to show you.”

The end of the tunnel lead to a new path. It was distinct, but not guarded by trees. It wrapped round a giant, aging oak tree which went up a small hill. A few steps ahead, she stood at the peak. Over the hill was a brook.  It emptied into a flow of dark rocks and rushing water.

“It’s just over there.” She pointed past the stream to a clearing, bordered by devastation and wounded warriors. Sunlight beamed into the clearing, making the earth’s breath visible.

Two loose pieces of wood lay over the brook to travel.

“Ladies first.” I gestured.

With arms out to balance, she floated across and I followed. I watched as her foot penetrated the old wood, leaving a hole.

“Careful.”

“I know.”

She stepped back onto the dirt at the other end.

“Here.” She held out her hand expecting me to graciously take it. However, the bridge became tired of laying. Struggling, I tried to grab her, but failed. She risked her existence, to help me, which is all I can ask. She shouted for assistance, but all that could hear were the trees. Her capabilities were not enough, and it was too late. I can still hear her voice. Her voice which never ceased to impress me with her words. 

 

The Yellow- Picture Passage #1

The nothingness of the forbidden thicket was what intrigued me most. I followed the distinct path which opened up into a large labyrinth of tall leafy giants and small green shrubs. Dead golden straw covered the wood floor that sat beyond the path. I touched it. I was amazed by its texture. Astonishment filled me as I wondered how something so beautiful could possibly be so infectious. Returning to the trail, it occurred to me that I walked further than I had expected. I wandered around looking for a signal. A clue. Something to aid my loss of direction. Suddenly, the sound of twigs snapping began to follow  me. This growing sound of fear chased me. I heard something panting. It carried a sense of exhaustion and was breathing uncontrollably.  I was running in circles. If I did not start running faster, it would catch me. The yellow nothing of the forest became vivid. So vivid that it made its surroundings appear as nonexistent. The yellow nothing of the forest became terrifying. All of my fears appeared in that moment. I still struggled to comprehend what was happening. It wasn’t until I awoke in the open greens that I had understood what occurred. Death had not completely consumed the plant. Yet death had almost consumed me. 

Picture Perfect

Burst Writing Prompt

Kaylin, Louis, Tristan, Elise, & Mr. Kefor

Prompt: With different colors, start by writing one sentence. Pass it to the person to your right. That person adds a sentence and the pattern continues until a story is written.

Pancakes

Yesterday morning I was sitting eating my pancakes, when my mother suddenly fainted. My first instinct was to call 911, and that’s what I tried to do, but I forgot how to use a phone. I fell to the ground, and lost control of all my limbs; I realized I was having the same problem. I lay there on my side, wondering how something that started so well, could have gone so wrong this quickly. Confused and incredulous, I continued to eat my pancakes. Pancakes are my favorite food after all. I just decided to let my mom lie there, as the pancaked were too yummy! Processing that I could not move at all, however could still eat my pancakes blew my mind; this was astonishing! When my dad entered and saw me on the floor with my pancakes, he smiled.  Then he called 911, but started laughing at the dispatcher because he was shocked at what he saw. My dad then fell to the ground, and lost control of his limbs too. Our family apparently has some sort of degenerative disease because my brother walked in next, and the same fate hit him. Still eating my pancakes, I started to wonder which one of my relatives could be responsible for my outrageous morning. Then, in a sudden burst of unprompted madness, I plucked the family cat from the couch, clutched her close as I melted a stick of butter, and plopped her in the same pan.

Irony

My story is a complicated one that you might not understand. However that is why I am  obliged to tell it to you.  As I reflect on my situation and how I got here, rage boils inside me. The person who put me here…she deserves this. Not me.

When I think about it, my story begins earlier than what I originally thought. Way before the wedding.   Back to when we met. I had seen two applicants before her. I admired how she confidently walked in. She looked up. Her soft blue eyes, stared around the room. I remember distinctly our first conversation. She quietly on the sofa next to the library. "Hi…I'm Jack".

"Kim" she said shyly.
I hired her.  Her qualifications were limited, but it made sense at the time. After about two weeks, she still hadn't come out of her shell.

One day, she had just finished organizing the books, and immediately moved onto her next task. I saw her struggling with the coffee machine and couldn't resist helping her. I  grabbed an apron, and thought of offering some assistance, only to realize I already was.

"What are you doing?" she asked quietly.

I looked at her but said nothing.

"All fixed." I said. "You're Welcome,…Kim."

"Thanks." she said firmly.

I walked away thinking "My goodness, what a complete failure. My life is over". But then someone else must have taken control of me because I walked back over again.

"Hi." why am I doing this?

"Hey, Kim" why not?

I continued, "I just ah…I…um… So, Kim how is your day?"

"Oh, it's okay." after a brief pause she added, "Why do you ask?"

I turned to her. "Why not?"

On our wedding day she told me, "Love is a lot like hate, you see. You can't force it, and you can not resist it. You just have to embrace it when it comes along." That day two years ago is a day I wish I could redo.

The truth is I didn't love her soft eyes or her confusing demeanor. All throughout our marriage, the confusion destroyed me.  She should have never forced the love. I should have resisted. Due to her mistakes, I stand lonely. Locked away from society- envious of her position in this situation.

Hate is like love. I couldn't force her to love her. She couldn't convince me otherwise.  And likewise, the hatred eventually came along. I had no choice but to embrace it.

Poem

Poem 3/3

Original:
The Man
Yesterday I met a strange man
He offered me candy and said, "Hop in the van."
But no way; I'm not stupid!
He must have thought I was clueless.
I imagined my mother saying, "Run as fast as you can!"

Revision:
The Man
Today I was approached by a strange man.
He offered me candy and said, "Hop in the van."
But no way; I'm not stupid!
He must of thought I was clueless
And with that, I grabbed my bag and ran.

Poem 2/3

Original:

Five Numbers

Suddenly you smash into the wall,

Which leads to a purely instinctive reaction.

Immediately you glare at the bold lights and gaze 

For what is actually quite unexplainable.

You find five numbers awaiting your reaction

They lie in a significant order that surprises you.

And in that moment, nothing matters more 

Than the excitement that follows 

And those past endless hours, 

Which rearranged those five numbers.

Revision:

Five Numbers

Suddenly you smash into the wall,

Which leads to a purely instinctive reaction.

Immediately you glare at the bold lights and gaze 

For what is an unexplainable feeling

There you find five numbers awaiting your reaction.

They lie in a significant order that never fails to surprise you.

And in that moment, nothing matters more 

Than the excitement that follows 

And those past endless hours, 

Which rearrange those five numbers time and time again.

Poem 1/3

Original:

Finally No Snow

Endless days and starry nights

That lead to waking in daylight. 

Finally relaxing; All of my worries, removed.

And no absurd projects soon to be due.

Rediscovering unfamiliar things,

Like lush green blankets and birds that sing.

Winds that blow in skies of blue

Salty seaweed scents and swift sounds of anew

I am now able to travel and explore

And much less fabric is to be worn.

I can journey anywhere; everywhere I will go.

The seasons have changed, there is finally no snow.

Revision:
Finally No Snow

Endless days and starry nights
That lead to waking in late light. 
Finally relaxing; All of my worries, removed.
And no absurd papers soon to be due.

Rediscovering unfamiliar things,
Like lush green blankets and birds that sing.
Winds that blow in skies of blue
Sweet sugar scents and swift sounds of anew.

I am now able to travel and explore
And much less fabric is to be worn.
I can journey anywhere; everywhere I will go.
The Earth has changed, there is finally no snow.

Contrasting Tones

Positive: Due to the many birthdays, and graduations that occurred this spring, my enormous family decided to order a delicious, silky, oversized vanilla cake for Easter weekend.  Included with the divine dessert, were tons of tiny Italian pastries that were simply to die for. Frosting and buttercream and cheese and chocolate. All the options were endless. The scents of sweetness and sugar taunted me the whole day. When it was finally dessert time, everyone gathered around the small dining room table to sing. The whole family watched drooling as the first piece was sliced. The three-layer cake hit the plate. "OHHH!", we all shouted in perfect unison, followed by an argument for the first slice.

Negative:  Due to many birthdays, and graduations that occurred this spring, my enormous family decided to order a greasy, unnecessary , oversized vanilla cake for Easter weekend. The huge cake was evidently filled with butter. My mother kept explaining to us how healthy it was because there was no chemicals. "It's real butter! Got it from this bakery!" However in my opinion, whether it be chemicals or butter, the cake was still disgustingly unhealthy. There was no way anyone could convince me to eat that death treat.

 

Songwriter's Tone

Through both Pink Floyd’s “Have a Cigar” and Boston’s “Rock n’ Roll Band”, both artists express the same tone.  Pink Floyd carefully manipulates the song lyrics to express that no matter how hard life is, it gets better. Similarly, Boston manipulates the lyrics to convey that success requires hard work and dedication.

Have a Cigar

Speaker/Point of View: Pink Floyd (first person)/ an experienced singer/songwriter who overcame struggles to succeed.

Audience: People facing similar life struggles.

Purpose: Provide hope for others that their situation will improve.

Subject: How no matter how difficult life is, it will get better.

Tone (Speaker): Paired with the melody, the singer’s tone is solemn.

Tone (Songwriter): Hopeful for the listener.

Rock n’ Roll Band

Speaker/Point of View: Boston (first person)/ a band finally getting recognition.

Audience: People in their situation who struggle to be heard.

Purpose: Express the struggles that the writer overcame to reach success.

Subject: How Boston was not always famous and had to work hard to have their music heard.

Tone (Speaker): Playful when being sung.

Tone (Songwriter): Serious in telling his story.

Distillation

In order to express negative opinions toward intellectual beings, the author of this excerpt, includes clever syntax, a changed perspective, and fully utilized diction . The author, originally starting negatively, alters the atomosphere by using unique phrases and vocabulary like "cathcing newts" and "spiders" and including an exclamation point, which, with a change is diction, transforms the tone into a more positive one. Futhermore the author criticizes intellectuals in order to express his feelings about the working class, and how he feels it is unfair that some people must work to survive. In a similar way, the social classes of society today, can further the author's opinion because of how different classes now have the ability to earn more or less then others by doing unequal or less work. 

200 Word Sentence

When I first took a bite of what came to be the best, most incredibly delicious, insanely divine dessert of all time, I remember being completely incredulous to my mom, brother, and two cousins who would not stop telling me to try the chocolate treat that they knew I would fall instantly in love with which evidently is what caused them to all blow a gasket in the tiny, hole-in-the-wall chocolate candy parlor that could barely fit the five of us as is, never mind fit us all while they were up and about ranting, attempting to explain to me that one small bite of heaven would not in any way affect or somehow alter my temporary diet or my athletic performance for that weekend’s competition which somehow transformed into a tourist vacation, causing them to yell louder and louder at me until I tasted it and allowed them show me what I was missing out on which I later learned was many flavorful flavors of silky dark chocolate that seemed sort of minty and also featured crumbled Oreo's and warm milk and white chocolate drizzled sauce that in tasting caused my family to, what I would describe as a sign of relief that I had been put out of my misery of missing out on all of the unimaginable sweet sugars that danced on my tongue that life changing Sunday afternoon.

Unprecedented Scenarios

Dear Inconsiderate Instructor,

                       Currently, while your boss is away coaching, you have succeeded to make my desire to attend practice vanish. With all due respect, you are more suited to be his assistant, and work much better as a pair. The way you use your voice to instill fear is futile. Even your execution of explaining workouts is poor. I think my teammates and I would be much more willing to comply
with your demands, if you did so in a calmer tone. I do however enjoy how entertaining you make my visit. Everyday, tediously ranting and raving about some ridiculous "issue" is what makes practice interesting. In fact, your boisterous yelling is what the entire practice consists of. I suppose I could adjust to these new surroundings, but I fear that after a while my ear drums will pop. For example, listening to you yell, simply because I arrived forty seven seconds late, is pointless. I apologize that the stranger driving in front of me drove five mph slower than I, causing me to get stuck at a traffic light, because it was one hundred percent my responsibility. Furthermore, when you play music on the amplifier, to "keep us engaged" I would greatly appreciate songs from this era. So in reading this letter, I hope you consider my complaints and change your unreasonable rudeness and idiotic reasoning.

Sincerely, A Dissatisfied Swimmer

Apostrophe

Do It. Do It. Separte, those words are meaningless, yet when put together the possibilities are endless. DO It. I kept hearing it say to me. Something about the way it shined...something about its purpose...something about it was holding me back. Maybe it was me. Maybe there was one small part of me still left inside that was worth me saving. If I do It, will you help me? I paused. Then It started hissing at me. DO IT. A thought occurred to me. Would I regret this? No. It's not worth it to stay here. Do It. I decided to make it shut up.

Metonymy/ Synecdoche

She is born in March. Gradually growing, she blossoms into marvelous fragrances, and astonishing colors that only appear in our rest. Then, the time occurs when her children roam and fly the surface. Now, she reaches her peak. She provides us with unimaginable scenery, and spectacular opportunities to explore. You explore. You discover. But, suddenly, when you least expect it, something goes wrong. Her children crawl away. They beg for more time, but are denied. However, they are not dead. Mother is dying. Perhaps this is the worst part; seeing her creations suffer. Then it happens. All the wonderful things you once new, are gone. Or so you think.

Unreliable Narrator Piece

Why Am I Here?

Looking back at it, I’m glad I experienced the whole thing. I learned a major lesson, and have never been the same since. People change you, and you might not realize it now, but people have such a huge impact on you in the long run. As I was leaving baggage claim, that day two years ago, I got another text from my mom.

Remember, sweetie….They should be there at 5. Don’t get lost and have fun!

Having fun will probably be the worst part of this whole shenanigan.

 I can’t have fun without my friends. Especially in this stuck-up city.

I walked toward the exit. It was roughly five forty-five. As I was waiting, I was drawn to a spray-painted bench. After attempting to make out the writing, I thought to myself.

Maybe she just sent me here, because she doesn’t want to deal with me, but then again, who wants to deal with me? She is ridiculous. Where is my ride? Shouldn’t they be here already? Ugh. I’m gonna melt if they take any longer. Literally.

Aggravated, I checked my phone. Five fifty- nine. In that instant, a small black car with tinted windows rolled up. A gray- haired old guy dressed in a suit stepped out of the car.

Jeez, if I’m hot, he must be dying in that thing.

“Miss Collins.” He nodded and opened the door welcoming me into the car. Without hesitating, I got in. He took my bags to the trunk, even though I easily could have put them in the back myself.

But then again, it’s his job so what does it matter. I bet they have snobby butlers too. I could get used to this.

After a little bit, he took a turn onto a back road. I almost didn’t see. The entrance was small, and the whole stretch was covered in dirt. Then the car slowed down. A giant white gate opened, revealing a ginormous ivory mansion.

“You didn’t tell me they live in the White House.” He looked at me in the rear-view mirror, but didn’t say anything. Eventually I got out of the car. My bags were in my hands and I rang the doorbell. After a long echo, a man opened the door.

“…Mar-?” It wasn’t him

“Pardon?”

“Oh, um who are you?”

“Your uncle is upstairs, I am his butler. My name is Edward, but call me whatever you’d like. My purpose is to-” I cut him off.

“I know what a butler is, I’m not that stupid.”

“Welcome, Miss.”

I was right, they did have a butler! How lazy can you be?

Even though I had been there like five seconds, I knew it was going to be a long trip for me.

“Follow me. I’ll show you where you will be staying” He said, grabbing my bags. I followed him up a massive staircase, which lead to a long hallway. After finally reaching the end of the hallway, he said “Here is your room. Press this button if you need anything.”

Holy crap.

I had no clue what to think at that point. Whether it was a punishment to be here, or if I was being rewarded, I had no clue. I didn’t miss school at all. It was such a relief to be gone from that disgusting building.

“KNOCK KNOCK! Can I come in? Here I come. Hey, kiddo! It’s been forever! Gimme a hug!”

“Mark! What’s new?”

I couldn't have cared less.

“ Oh, nothing really. I’m more interested in you.”

Yeah, right!

 He continued. “How are you handling everything?” 

“Well, I guess…. Dunno.”

“You’ll be home in no time, just enjoy yourself while you’re here. Okay? Alrighty. Well I bet you’re jet lagged. I’ll let ya relax.”

“Thanks, Mark. It’s nice to see you.”

“You too, kid.” He shut the door.

As soon as I finished unpacking, I immediately took out my notebook and wrote. Time slipped away from me, and it wasn’t until an hour later, that I realized it. I exited my room, only to find Adam, and Emma playing on the stairs with their toys.

“KATE!” They screamed in unison.

Yep. Definitely just blew an eardrum. Keep walking. Ignore. Ignore. IGNORE.

“Kate. Kate. Kat. Hey, Katie! Kate! Oh, Katherine!” Adam said.

“What, guys?” I asked.

“Wanna play?”

“Goodbye.”  I said and proceeded into the kitchen.

Don’t get me wrong, they were pretty entertaining at times, but this time, I just couldn’t. So, I went into the kitchen, expecting to find dinner waiting for me, but it turns out, as spoiled as they were, my cousins did not have a personal chef. Mark was sitting at the table reading a newspaper.

"What's for dinner?" I asked

“Here’s some Corn Flakes. There’s a bowl over there and a spoon in this draw.”

“Devine.” I replied.

“Ya know, Kate. They’ve been talking about you all day.” I rolled my eyes at him. “Hey, cheer up, he’ll be fine.” I poured the milk and went back upstairs.

“Goodnight, Kate!”

“Nighty night, cuz!” I heard them say, and then went to bed.

The next morning, I was awoken by the flavorful smell of crispy meat.

So they do have a chef.

            But I was mistaken.

            “Morning, punk! Here's your breakfast. Did you wake up on the right side today?”

            “I hope so.”

            “Well” he started. “I called in sick today, and the other punks are at school, so we can do whatever you want.”

            “Oh, uh, I don’t care what we do.”

            “Lake? Park? Mall? C’mon, there’s gotta be something.” I didn’t say anything. We didn’t do anything either. Three days past and I not once did I leave the house. Finally, Mark decided to take me out.

“Where are we going, Mark?”

“I have a surprise. No kids, just us. Sound like a plan, kiddo?”

“I guess” We pulled into what looked like a restaurant.

“Did you and dad use to eat here as kids or something?”

“Nope.”

“Whatever.” As we walked in, I was expecting a high-end, overpriced food place with under-sized portions. But I later learned that is was just an old diner.

“Did you and Gramps use to come here?” I asked.

“Ha, do you honestly think your grandfather would take me here?! No.”

“Oh, okay.” I mumbled.

“Two please. Yep. Thank you.” He said to the server. After she took our order, I thought about it until I was positive.

“Was it her favorite restaurant? Did you and Ellie meet here?”

“Nope.” There was a period of silence before I blurted out again.

“Mark, what is this place?” He took a sip of his soda, and replied.

“To be honest… I have no clue. I pass it every day on the way to work. I thought we should try it.” he said with a giant smirk on his face.

“You dragged me to the middle of nowhere? You really brought me to this stinky, old, run down diner, because you wanted to ‘try it’? What were you thinking? I'm not a little kid anymore, you can tell me. Why am I really here, Mark. Why?” He fiddled with his straw and took another sip of it. Putting the glass down he looked at me.

“Why?” I said in a more serious tone. After a brief pause, he answered.

“Why not?”

I didn’t know whether to be angry or upset or if I should pretend I was fine.

Should I even bring up dad? I mean they are brothers, he might get upset, if I do.

But that’s when it hit me. I was miserable, yet somehow he was willing to take me to a random restaurant on the side of the freeway, just cause.

“Mark.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not ready for this.”

“None of us are, hun. You shouldn’t expect to be prepared. Nothing in life comes with a warning. That’s what life is.”

I figured it was easier for him, because of Ellie, but I asked anyways. Just to be sure.

“Then how come it’s so easy for you?”

“It’s not easy, Kate.”

“But-”

“Listen, Kate. Just because it is harder on you, it does not mean things are easy for me. There’s no such thing as easy. We all die at some point, Kate. It’s just a question of when. ” After analyzing what he said, I replied to him.

“You still never told me why are we here.”

“I did…maybe you weren’t listening.”

“Well then why are we here?”

“Why not?”

Whatever. He is old. He has no clue what he is talking about. Stupid old people and their sayings....

Two years later, on this dreary unwanted day, it finally all makes sense.

The Plot Sickens: Free-Write & Reflection

Free Write:

It was Christmas Eve. Fog stuck to the tarmac at Lindbergh field. All the passengers were finally situated and comfortable. The plane started moving forward through the eerie lane, and it was seconds before takeoff. Soon the aircraft would be leaving San Diego and arrive at Logan Airport. In a few hours, I’d be home. I was incredibly stressed with school; college is quite different from high school. All I wanted was to be home with my family. The plane continued to move, until suddenly it didn't. Followed by an awakening jolt, the plane stopped. Initially, no one thought anything of it. We all sat tediously, still expecting to be in the air in no time. However minutes passed. First two, then ten, and eventually fifteen. By twenty minutes, the plane was gridlock. My soon-to-be companions were rioting, wondering why we weren't moving. However, it was Christmas Eve, and as much as I wanted to join them, I was trapped in the holiday-spirit, unable to yell at anyone. I sat listening to the conversations of the diverse people surrounding me.

“Why aren’t we moving?” screeched William, who hadn't met me yet.

“This is ridiculous!” said his son Peter.

“Let me speak to the pilot! What’s going on?” I heard Julie say from a distance.

“Please, stay seated mam, we assure you we will be ready for takeoff soon.” The attendant replied, which we later learned was a lie. As time passed the plane still did not move; people were frantic.

“It’s Christmas Eve! What’s taking so long?” said Emily in the seat behind me.

I eventually decided to join in. “Yeah, can they take any longer?” 

Reflection:

            Referring to the author’s claim about young writers in “The Plot Sickens”, my free write piece evidently deviates. Initially, the prompt has an element of mystery. In my writing, the plane mysteriously stops before take-off, leaving the reader curious as to what happened. However there is no violence that includes characters being “burned alive, dropped from the sky” or even “being blow up on their way to baggage claim…” that the author mentioned her students included. In my prompt, eventually the reader indirectly learns that the plane never takes off. In fact, the main character becomes acquaintances with other passengers on the plane that evening. Consequently, the reader never discovers why the plane stopped, how the passengers meet, or even if the plane takes off, leaving an element of mystery. Although the story does not include violence, it is up to the reader to fill in the missing pieces, and decide if character’s will get their happy ending.

Million Dollar Essay Topic (Self- Deprecation Essay)

Million- Dollar Essay Topic

The perpetual amount of snow days, and desire to leave the house, was the one thing that made me look forward to going school that freezing morning. After dilly-dallying around the house and eventually getting dressed, I had finally made it to the car. The hardest part of my day was over- or so I thought. Creative Writing was my first class. This was where I would spend a solid hour wasting time deciding on an essay topic.

To be specific, the essay was on Self Deprecation. Immediately, a billion thoughts rushed to me. 

I'll write about how I'm talkative. Everyone always tells me I talk really fast.

I started writing.

Well now that I think about it I don’t talk that much. I'm pretty shy. Yeah, I'll write about my fear of socializing. I hate introducing myself. Ugh, how awkward. 

I thought.

But now that I think about it, I'm not shy, I just hate talking on command. So maybe I am talkative…well, talkative when I shouldn't be.

I was doing exactly what I would typically be doing in a situation like this. I could be offered a million dollars and my brain would still remain blank, and empty. Usually it takes me a while to plan before I write, so I wasn't worried. Eventually I decided to scratch my previous thoughts.

Okay, Kaylin. Restart.

That’s when it hit me. I was going to write a brilliant essay about how my athletics completely ruin my chances of have a social life! Constantly traveling for swim is one of the many things I love about the sport. Furthermore, it is also one of the reasons I loathe it. (Well I don’t loathe swimming. Perhaps you can call it a love-hate relationship). Many school vacations were stolen from me and sacrificed to my training. Sometimes, because my team is so competitive, I get pulled from school to compete.

Perfect!

I thought to myself, not realizing that I could easily loose track and turn it into an essay all about swimming rather that self-deprecating myself. So there I was, on to the next topic.

I'll write about my creativity! After all this is a creative writing class. Or I'll write about how I constantly procrastinate, and I can even use this morning as an example. No, maybe I will write about how I over analyze things too much. But, what's creative about that? Or any of this for that matter. I'm Doomed. Great Job, Kaylin.

For the next fifteen minutes I just sat, my mind completely wandering, at that point.

I'll do this when I'm home.

Hopefully no one noticed me, because I was a mess. I had been staring off into space doing absolutely nothing. I was so frustrated that I was ready to write about what I had for breakfast. Literally anything. Then, my new teacher, Mr. Kefor, explained to the class how we could potentially combine two negative traits we have into an essay.

Yeah like that helps.

Then  he made his way towards my desk.

"For example…" he began.

He pointed to my 3-2-1 Reflection that had gotten me nowhere, and suggested I combine two qualities.

You can combine how you over think things, with how you waste time.

It was not a bad idea, so I thought about it. 

Maybe. Yeah. Well. I don’t really know.

However it was a great idea. I kept asking myself why I hadn't I come up with that. With roughly ten more minutes of class, I started brainstorming about how my tendency to over think situations, always wastes so much time. Then, after finally gathering all my thoughts, I got home and typed up a story about how I somewhat, kind of, not really, did anything in class that morning.