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Creative Writing 2011

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Creative Writing 2011 - Page Text Content

S: Creative Writing 2011

FC: Creative Writing

1: CONTENTS: Pages 2-8: Dangerous Game Continuation 10-11: Short Story Prologue 12-19: Smoke Short Story 20-29: Four Seconds Drama 30: "We Are The Night" English Sonnet 31: "Dinner" Italian Sonnet 32: "I Speak In Silence" Villanelle 33: "A New Kind Of Family" Rondeau 34-35: "Kid In The Flat Brim Hat" Concrete Poem 36: "Deal With The Devil" Pantoum 38-39: "Chillin' Like A Villain" Free Verse

2: Whitney pulled aside branch after branch as she trekked her way across the dense jungle floor. She’d managed to swim to the island after anchoring the ship offshore to locate her suddenly missing friend, Rainsford. She made her way through the jungle with a large sharpened hunting knife in her hand and a silver pistol strapped onto the belt of her cargo pants. “Rainsford!”, Whitney called for the thousandth time in the past hour, but no one but the clustered tree listened to her lonely voice. “Rainsford!” Whitney came from a family of three older brothers and a devoted outdoorsy father. Subjected to constant torment from her male counterparts, she learned quickly how to fend for herself. Rather than resisting, she adopted their ways of life and even perfected it. Though she had never worn a dress and couldn’t bake a cake, she could hunt like no other and track down any given animal from gentle deer to vicious tiger. She thrived on adventure, but more importantly, a challenge. “Rainsford! I leave you and what happens? You fall off the ship! Must I always be expected to look after you, you pansy. Sanger Rainsford? No, he’s no hunter. He's actually quite the opposite.”, she said to herself, venturing onward. Whitney peered through the empty jungle. Vegetation was lively and each green leaf or gentle flower flourished to its ultimate potential. Instead, she observed the rough mud and soil beneath her footing. She crouched to the earthen surface and traced a finger around the impression left in the mud.

3: This was precisely what she’d been searching for. The impression of a boot wasn’t fresh. Instead it was dry, cracked, and had been there for approximately a day and a half, she measured. She noted that the heel imprinted deepest, which could only mean that whoever it had belonged to had been running. Suddenly, Whitney heard a faint rustle. It was only slight and calm but she stood at alert, knife out, as she gripped hard on the handle. It was too light to be a large fearsome predator, but to steady to be a small animal either. “Rainsford?”, said Whitney, unsure. “Whitney?”, said Rainsford with a familiar smile as he stepped into her view. Her fearless stare turned vibrant in mere seconds. “Rainsford!”, she rejoiced but then paused and turned over her emotion. “You fool, Sanger Rainsford. You fool! Only an idiot, like you, could manage a feat such as this. Only you could get lost on an infamous island and expect me to come along and rescue you. How very masculine of you, Sanger. You are impressively lucky for surviving this long.”, she scolded him. “That or incredibly skillful”, said Rainsford blankly. Rainsford was practically unreconizable. His eyes were red and strained. His brown basic shirt was torn and dirty, yet his pants were new and flawless, with an unfamiliar pistol strapped at his side. His stare was no longer full of a clever intelligent luster, instead it was sly and unpredictable. “Are you well?”, asked Whitney keeping her knife in hand and pointing at him with it.

4: “Never better.”, he said proudly after a short hesitation, as though he’d dazed off miles away. “My dear, Whitney, I cannot begin to articulate how ecstatic I am to gaze upon you once more. This island may be harsh and unforgiving but you, you are a relief from that tolling strain.” She finally lowered her knife, while she cringed from his comments. “Have you gone mad?” “Mad? We are all mad to some measurable degree, but no, I wouldn’t say I’m madnot completely. I amawakened, rather. Fair lady, my short vacation to this fascinating world has taught me more than anything else. In a few short daysI’ve been reborn.” “I surmise that we should leave this awful place immediately.”, demanded Whitney. “Leave? But I have discovered a new home, a new world. Whitney, we mustn’t leave, at least not until I introduce you. You don't see what I see. It’s unlike anything I’ve experienced prior.” “I can only come to the sad conclusion that you’ve stumbled upon a new, groundbreaking hallucinogen, judging by your dilated pupils and blood shot eyes. So please inform me, Rainsford are you on drugs? Have the natives introduced you to their world of bliss? Truly, you cannot be serious.” “It’s better than drugs”, he said, leading her through the brush. “Drugs are for the weak and broken, but us, no, we are strong. Strong hunters can only be satisfied through a frivolous chase with a satisfying end result of pride and this certain, otherwise unachievable, slight smile that succumbs us as we stare down upon our conquered prey. Surely there is no drug that can mimic a high such as that.”

5: “Truly but—“ He pressed his index finger against her smooth lips. “Ssssh! You will see. Patience, patience.” He led her into a mysterious house off the shore. Whitney eyed the walls of animal heads; both familiar and unfamiliar. The musty air and ill-lighting bothered Whitney as she followed him down the dim, dark hall. Meanwhile, Rainsford seemed content and at peace.“Where are we?” “My home”, he said with a content sly smile. She shook her head. “No, your house is an impressive cabin in the Canadian wilderness or perhaps the lodge in the deep jungles of the Amazon. You have no house here and certainly no home.” “I have a home now. This is my home.” She huffed but calmed her racing mind as she examined the gloomy animals' expressions. “I presume that in mere days even you could not slaughter this number of native animals.” “He did.”, said Rainsford plainly, point a single pale finger down the hall. Her hand came to her mouth with a gasp when she observed the sight he’d referred to. “Who are you?”, she whispered, almost afraid to speak too loudly. “I’m a hunter, like yourself.” “You’re no hunter, you are a murderer. What happened out here?” “Kill or be killed, Whitney. Kill or be killed”, he repeated under his breath over and over. “You place a human head on the wall like a glorified trophy. This was more than survival.”

6: “His name was Zaroff”, Rainsford explained as though in a trance. “He cast me out into the jungles of this unfamiliar island to be hunted like an animal. Eventually the hunter became the hunted. It was him or me. For all those days I spent, dwelling in the wilderness, coming up with a plan, I assumed he was merely mad. Then, after I won...after I felt as he felt when he slaughtered those people, I then understood the method of his madness” “No....no.”, Whitney protested. He suddenly grabbed her wrists and screamed in her face. “Feel as I do! Hunt with me, Whitney! I will show you! I will show you!” “Stop this! You are not this man. I know you. I'll find you the help you need, I promise.” “I do not require help. I require a new hunt, a new chase, a new challenge. There’s only one thing left to do”, he said, eying Whitney carefully. “I refuse.” “You do have one other option”, he toyed with his own sick idea. He grabbed at her hands and softened his voice. She tried to pull away but he wouldn’t let. “Whitney, you can marry me. We will hunt together. We can dominate side by side like we have in the past. We have the potential to be the happiest, deadliest pair that the world has ever seen. You are beautiful and fierce...our children would be just as infinitely divine.” “I will not.” He gave a sickly smile. “Then start running.” Whitney paused, waiting to see if he was serious. She hoped that he would suddenly burst out laughing but his unfamiliar stare never faltered. “You are my prey, Whitney. I will not fail. Whether I kill you or you're imprisoned to me until death do we part, you will be mine.”

7: The first day, he merely toyed with her. He let her run. He always seemed to be ahead of her, calculating each next move she designed. They were former hunting partners with the same techniques, but now pitched against each other. Eventually, Rainsford found the crewmen. One by one Whitney heard their screams rip through the jungle, each one more depressing than the last. She knew what she had to do. She couldn’t be a hunter anymore, she had to take it from a whole new angle.. “Rainsford!”, she called into the jungle, beckoning him to come as she stepped into a clearing. “Show yourself, coward!” He appeared behind her,. “I refuse to play your sick game, Rainsford. I will not partake in this hunt.”, she said and plopped her gun onto the ground. Then she calmly took a seat on the solid ground. He approached confidently, weapon pointing to her head. “I won’t even flinch”, he promised. She remained seated. He pushed the cold barrel of the gun against her chin, lifting it up to meet her eyes. She didn’t appear frightened or even worried. “You won’t kill me.” “Yes, I will.”, he contested, pressing the barrel further. “No you won't. You love me.”, she said confidently. “You always have, and I’ve always known. I'm an expert, I observe the small details. You aren’t going to kill me. You can’t.” He cocked the gun in his anger. She remained calm, her breath steady and constant, and met his eyes. Her stare alone made his skin crawl as he stared back, falling apart inside.

8: The gun fell from his gloomy weak grip and onto the unkempt ground. It bounced lightly with rhythm until it came to a still. She listened closely to his harsh, unsteady breath as he gasped desperately for words. He choked on unsaid words and pulled her in to meet his chapped, dry lips. Whitney allowed the mad man to steal the warmth of her lips for just a moment, as she swiped the sharp hunting knife of his belt. She held the black handle tight in her grasp and slid the blade through the skin of his chest, into the place that a human's heart would reside. He choked his final breath and collapsed gracefully into Whitney’s arms. “You are not a man capable of love, not anymore. You are not the man I once knew. I will mourn the tragic death of Sanger Rainsford, but I will never mourn you.”, she hissed as he died, the deep crimson seeping out of his broken heart and staining her own tanned skin and dirty tank top. She was forever marked with the killer’s blood, but not Rainford’s. She thrust the blade out from the killer’s chest as tears formed in her pained eyes. She was alone now. Whitney whispered softly into the emptiness, “It’s all over now.”

10: Smoke Prolougue Awhile ago, I wrote a song detailing the beginning to an evil villain, straight from his point of view. Instead of the overused focus on how one becomes a hero, I wanted to demonstrate the process in which one becomes a villain. It was the view of a villain’s mad mind instead of an epic hero and his tiresome back story. I enjoyed it’s twisted nature of the song; the way the villain rationalizes why he’s chosen his actions, organized within a note addressed to “All the people I’ve turned away and all the faces that still haunt me today”. The song was a different interesting concept. This led me to believe that a story in the viewpoint of the villain, to reflect the song, would be an even better concept. Our new emerging villain will be our main character. His name is Vincent, and he’s about 18 years old. He lives his life striving to please his father but never is able to succeed. His father constantly gnaws at him for his lack of success. Vincent achieves little, but always tries as hard as he can. He fails in school, he doesn’t excel in sports, has no friends to mention, he’s quiet, and he has no future as far as his father can perceive. He’s merely an unsuccessful, poor, quiet loner. He’s invisible to those around him. The reader should pity Vincent, at least initially. Eventually, madness will ail his vulnerable mind. All the rage he’s bottled up will finally explode. He takes out

11: his pent up anger on his own town. He burns it down with no remorse. Vincent loses his humanity in the hungry flames. He becomes obsessed with taking his revenge on this world for his prolonged pain. He becomes an evil villain. Only a hero can stop him now.

12: Smoke Vincent carefully slid a fresh cigarette from his pack, and balanced it between his lips. He held the flame from his lighter to it until soft gray smoke released from the end. He sucked in the rough tainted air while the lit end smoldered magically with a sparkling red glow. The burn slowly crawled down the cigarette, never to return to it’s precious white purity. He locked the heavy smoke inside his lungs, then gradually unleashed it into night. The sweet pale gray smoke contrasted beautifully against the bare blackness of the night. It twisted in gentle wisps, reaching for the dark sky. Vincent couldn’t help but grin as he watched his artwork climb into the night and disappear as though it had never corrupted the natural air at all. Eventually, Vincent constructed the courage to return to his house, where his father would be patiently waiting for his arrival. The hassle had become an unfortunate routine. “Where have you been?”, demanded Maximilian before Vincent even got through the front door. Vincent met his father’s cold eyes and shut the door behind him with a gentle close. “I went out to have a cigarette”, Vincent answered honestly and upheld his calm soothing voice. “If you keep up these shenanigans, you’ll never make anything of your life”, said Mr. Rowe with a smug frown. “You’re already a failure, Vincent. It’s time to step up to the plate! Get serious about something.” “I’m sorry. I’ll try harder”, he said while staring at his toes. Maximilian shook his head. “It’s not enough.”

13: “Please, tell me what I can do to make you happy. I’ll do it.” “No, you can’t. You can’t do anything right”, said Maximilian. “When I was in high school I was king. I was captain of the wrestling team and had a full scholarship. I own two successful local restaurant and I made a name for myself. I was a success. What have you done? What have you done to make yourself worthy of being my son? You have no friends, you have no talent, you’re hardly passing school, and you have the athletic ability of a lawn chair. No one will even remember who you are. Your life is disgraceful. When people ask me about my children, I don’t mention you because I’m too ashamed to call you my son. You don’t exist to me until you prove to me that you do. When are you going to make a name for yourself?” He didn’t deny it. He didn’t retort him. Instead, Vincent stood perfectly calm and still, intently listening to his father tear him apart. He even nodded in agreement with his harsh words. Vincent strived to please his father but never could quite achieve his approval. It seemed like no matter how much effort he put forth, it only ended in disappointment and harsh vilification. He understood that he could never live up to Maxamilan’s high expectations. Though he understood that, he couldn’t accept it. Max’s criticism had become a daily one-sided argument. Max shouted while Vincent listened and even agreed. Vincent didn’t defend himself or explain how hard he’d been trying. He simply nodded and apologized for his shortcomings, promising that he’d try harder to please his father. “I’m sorry. I know I’m not good enough.”

14: Maximilian leapt from his place on the couch, clutching a ceramic plate in his hand. Vincent flinched, jumping backwards only to slam his back against the wall. Max held the plate threateningly while the lacy designs glimmered against the dim lamp light. He suddenly broke into a deep laughter. “You’re not even worth it”, he muttered. It was only when he heard the rough slam of the front door that Vincent realized he’d escaped the house in the heat of the moment. Just as he stepped into the night, he heard the plate crash against the door. Panic struck through him with the muffled sound. He choked it away and regained his composure. The lonely black night was comforting to poor Vincent. His true thoughts were unwelcome in the confines of his own home, but the night received Vincent with wide open arms. He breathed deeply, trying to alleviate his steaming inner emotions. For many, the blackness was frightening and unpredictable, but for Vincent it was home. The sincere dark shadows accepted Vincent for who he was and never demanded anything from him. They liked him here. As he slowly walked the dim neighborhood streets, Vincent watched a beacon of light unfold in the distance; Skye’s house. As though he’d fallen into a trance, he found himself being sucked in by the deep blue doorway like an asteroid into the depths of a black hole. Knock! Knock!

15: As he stood on the porch, full of nervous butterflies, Vincent realized that he’d never actually visited Skye’s house. She pulled open the thick front door to greet the panic-stricken boy standing in front of it. Her golden blonde hair was pulled into a wispy bun, letting gentle spindles fall into the floral perfumed air that surrounded her. “Oh, hello”, she said politely in her angelic, nearly musical voice. Vincent stood dumbfounded by her astounding beauty. He couldn't collect the words for a proper response. “Can I help you, Vincent?” He hesitated, realizing that he had no actual answer. “I didn't know where to go” She bit her lip anxiously, then flashed a pearly smile. “Come inside and sit for awhile” “My dad tried to throw a plate at me” “You poor thing”, she sat across from him on her living room couch, sipping water through a straw. She tapped her fingers against the glass, and bit her lip again. “How long are you going to be, you think? Can we talk about this another time, maybe?” “Is it a bad time for me to stop by? I knew I shouldn't have come over like this...I'm sorry.” “Well, I was just about to go out to a party, with a date. Right about...now.” “A date?” “Yes. He's really sweet and...hot. I thought I told you about him.” “Oh, of course. I just thought...”

16: “Thank you, Vincent! I knew you'd understand. You're a good friend”, she said, waving him goodbye and leaving him alone in her empty lavish house. Vincent's eyes glazed the room. Family pictures matted the walls like barnacles to a ship's side. He scoffed at the images of expensive dress and shining teeth. “Lies”, he muttered, while grabbing a new cigarette from his side. He got up from the dark green couch, and lit his cigarette, caring little that he was inside a strange house. He made his way up the stairs, while staring at the joyous family pictures and vibrant flowers encased in deep wooden frames. They disgusted him. He wandered the empty rooms, while allowing the cigarette ashes to fall against the off white rugs that had been so well kept from dirty sneakers. Eventually, he found Skye's room, full of white and pale pink to compliment her dark fake-tanned complexion. The gentle colors only upheld the lie that she lived. He cackled at the paradox through a thick drag, as his cigarette burned away. He toed his way over to her light-wooded desk, covered with pictures, papers, and one purple notebook. As the cigarette hung from his mouth, he choose a picture of a much younger Skye with her strapping father holding her tightly. Both figures were smiling wide, with a bright blue sky opening up behind them. Vincent shook his head as he held the picture in his hand. When he did this, a smoldering red ash fell from the end of the cigarette and landed on the joyous face of Skye's father. The hot cherry quickly crippled the photo, burning away in the from of a crater, until Skye's father was completely absent from the image. Vincent grinned.

17: He could feel the excitement ripping through his fingertips and through the rest of his body. It consumed him. He grabbed his lighter from his pocket and held the flame against the photograph until it slowly started to gather into black curls, letting the image disappear. The heat crawled towards Vincent's gripping fingertips until he thrust it onto Skye's bed of false purity. The sinister black ashes tumbled and stained the perfection, ruining it forever. Vincent flipped at his lighter and let the beautiful flame unfold in front of his face. For once, he felt powerful. He was in control. His mind was racing, suddenly finding himself...happy. He grabbed Skye's sweet perfume from her white dresser, unscrewed the top, and drenched the stained lacy bed with it. The graceful scent of Skye filled the room, making Vincent almost nauseous. He plucked what was left of the burning cigarette from his mouth and playfully threw it onto Skye's bed. The spark took and the flames scurried across the bed, leaping into a magnificent display. Vincent laughed victoriously. He made his way back to Skye's desk and carefully ripped a page from her notebook. He grabbed a pen and took a last look at his work. The flames quickly devoured the bed in a roaring beauty unlike anything that Vincent had ever seen. The heat stifled him, but he embraced it. The sweat from his brow reinforced the hard work he’d put into it. The glow of the burning bed illuminated his smile, as he slipped another cigarette from his quickly diminishing pack.

18: He approached the flames, without fear, and inserted his cigarette into the roaring fire, just enough to light the end. He laughed maliciously and placed it between his crooked smile. The smoke flowed up to join its brothers in the air of the bedroom. Engulfed in a sick thrill, he left his beautiful work to be found. The night progressed into its harshest depths of blackness. However, those who lived in Vincent's town only experienced excruciating orange brightness at those deep hours. Screams and cries emptied into the hollow night, shattering the usual comfortable calm. While the town was engulfed in sheer panic, Vincent Rowe stood before a place he once knew. He crossed the street calmly, while others fled in terror all around him. Some stopped briefly enough to catch the unforgettable crooked smile across the strange boy's face. Vincent approached an untouched telephone pole, and carefully nailed the piece of Skye's notebook paper to it. The lines were no longer empty, instead, they were filled with messy black inked words. Vincent nodded at his letter with triumph, as he went over his fateful words in his head one last time: For all the people I turned away, and all the faces that still haunt me today; this is not an apology. I'm not sorry for what I've done. Post this in the center of town because when you find it, I'll be long gone...

19: Vincent walked away, leaving it all behind him. To his back, his artwork painted the night. His canvas could be seen for miles. The thick billows of smoke reached their long curvy fingers towards the black night sky. The light gray of the smoke appeared so graceful and beautiful against the deep darkness. It lifted into the sky and escaped, as though it had never been there at all. Eventually the layer of gray defeated the villainous black and hung over the town like a horrible reminder of what was happening to them. Maximilian Rowe got his wish; no one would ever forget his son.

20: Four Seconds Characters: Easton Sirynne Shay [Easton, Sirynne, and their friend, Shay, climbed to the top of a parking garage in a small city. Together, Easton and Sirynne run to an edge, lean over the railing, and stare down to the distant street below, approximately 8 floors down. Shay runs to the opposite side, looking out into the distance of the city while they marvel at the ground below them] Sirynne: “We’re so high up.” Easton: “I know, this is breath taking.” [They were silent for awhile, staring down into the bare street full of busy cars and strangers.] Sirynne: “It really makes you think, you know?” Easton: “It does.” [Pauses, turns around, and shouts at Shay] “SHAY! Get over here, man!” Shay (yells from a distance): “WHAT?” Easton: “I said to get over here!” [Turns back to Sirynne and the street below.] Sirynne: “Imagine. All of this can be over in mere seconds. I don’t mean this is a suicidal way, more of a...speculation. I mean that it’s just amazing.” Easton (nods): “It’s not suicidal at all, it’s just interesting. Everything we know, everything can just end like that. [snaps his fingers] Think about it. If we just jumped right now, our lives would be over. All of this; our dreams, thoughts, friends, familyit could all be gone in the blink of an eye.” Sirynne: “It’s fascinating that this is how life worksthat this is what it all comes down to” Sirynne: “In seconds, mere seconds, everything we know as of this moment can change. In seconds our life can be differentor it can be over.” Easton: “Here, let’s time it.” [Easton throws his dying cigarette butt off the building and they watched it fall to the street below] Sirynne: “One” Easton: “Two” Sirynne: Three” Easton: “Four” (It hits the pavement) “Four seconds. In four seconds, our lives could end that easily.” Sirynne: “The pavement will have no remorse. It could take our life away, in just four seconds.” Easton: “It makes you realize how fragile everything really is. All it takes is a slip of the wheel, a step in the wrong directionjust one screw up. Just one. And that’s it.” Sirynne: “That’s why I try hard to make every moment count.” Easton: “It’s all we can do. Live our lives while we’ve got the chance, because in four seconds, we can lose it and we won’t get it back.” Sirynne: “I suppose that’s one way to justify our poorly thought through actions.” Easton (twiddling his thumbs, looking into the distance of the street): “My father chased me with a gun the other day.” Sirynne (seems strangely unphased): “Again?” Easton (nods): “Again. He pressed the barrel into my chest, and I swear at that moment, I thought I was about to die. I thought those were my four seconds, and all of this crossed right through my mind in that short length of time. He cocked it. It was the most terrifying sound I’ve ever heard in my life. A sound that I will never forget. Thenhe popped out the bullets, and do you know what he did?”

21: Easton: “Completely.” Sirynne: “In seconds, mere seconds, everything we know as of this moment can change. In seconds our life can be differentor it can be over.” Easton: “Here, let’s time it.” [Easton throws his dying cigarette butt off the building and they watched it fall to the street below] Sirynne: “One” Easton: “Two” Sirynne: Three” Easton: “Four” (It hits the pavement) “Four seconds. In four seconds, our lives could end that easily.” Sirynne: “The pavement will have no remorse. It could take our life away, in just four seconds.” Easton: “It makes you realize how fragile everything really is. All it takes is a slip of the wheel, a step in the wrong directionjust one screw up. Just one. And that’s it.” Sirynne: “That’s why I try hard to make every moment count.” Easton: “It’s all we can do. Live our lives while we’ve got the chance, because in four seconds, we can lose it and we won’t get it back.” Sirynne: “I suppose that’s one way to justify our poorly thought through actions.” Easton (twiddling his thumbs, looking into the distance of the street): “My father chased me with a gun the other day.” Sirynne (seems strangely unphased): “Again?” Easton (nods): “Again. He pressed the barrel into my chest, and I swear at that moment, I thought I was about to die. I thought those were my four seconds, and all of this crossed right through my mind in that short length of time. He cocked it. It was the most terrifying sound I’ve ever heard in my life. A sound that I will never forget. Then...he popped out the bullets, and do you know what he did?”

22: Sirynne: “What?” Easton: “He laughed.” Sirynne: “Sick bastard! I thought he was getting better!” Easton: “So did I, Rynn, so did I.” Sirynne (stares into the distance): “Do you think we’ll be like our parents?” Easton: “I don’t know, we’d have to make it that far I suppose.” Sirynne: “I think we’re going to die young.” Easton (chuckles): “With the way we livethere’s a pretty good chance..” Sirynne: “Yeah. We might see it but we might not. Either way, I’m not about to live softly while the threat of death hangs over my head every day.” Easton: “Living softly is a waste of time.” Sirynne: “The future is so abstract. We don’t know how long we have and we don’t know what the future holds, but it hangs over our heads even now.” Easton: “I try not to think about the future.” Sirynne: “No, I don’t believe in it. It’s a curse word if I know one.” Easton: “It’s just, I can’t be concerned about what’s down the road, because who knows? I can die four seconds from now or forty years from now, but I can’t know that. You know?” Sirynne: “And if you die, that’s all you get. It’s over.” Easton: “You can’t go back.” Sirynne: “You can’t even go forward.” Easton: “You and me, Sirynne, we’re one of the same.” Sirynne: “What do you mean?” Easton: “We fill our lives, pack it full of memories and risks and moments that make it worth living.” Sirynne: “We do. We push our limits and try everything there is to try before we run short of time, whenever that may be.” Easton: “We live for the moment and don’t think about the consequences. We just live, for moments like these.”

23: Sirynne: “We live to feel.” Easton: “Live to be.” Sirynne: “Live to experience all we can, while we have the chance. No regrets.” Easton: “Not one.” Sirynne: “Because tomorrow may not exist. All we have is now, right now. Because in four seconds, our lives can end.” Easton: “Just four seconds.” Sirynne: “That’s how I justify all the stupid things I do.” Easton: “Yeah, me too. I’d rather do something stupid than nothing at all.” Sirynne: “We have so many great stories and memories. I mean, it may have been stupid and probably illegal but we always make it worth it.” Easton: “Do you remember how we met?” Sirynne (laughs): “Yes.” Easton (laughs back): “Yeahthat was an interesting introduction.” Sirynne: “I’ll sayyou randomly brought a strange dirty black lab to my house on the night of homecoming...I don’t think I even invited you.” Easton: “It was a nice dog.” Sirynne: “I didn’t even know you!” Easton: “Rocky invited me.” Sirynne: “I, still in my dress, just remember opening the door to you, your scruffy dark stubble, two unfamiliar friends of yours, and then this massive black dog staring up at me with her tongue hanging out.” Easton: “Billy.” Sirynne: “It was a girl dog.” Easton: “Billy-girl.” Sirynne: “Then you started telling me the story about how you found the dog and something about getting chased by wolves. Then you came inside with the strange dog, played my guitar, ate my food, and left. That’s the night I met you.”

24: Easton: “It’s so funny.” Sirynne: “What?” Easton: “I mean, if I had gone somewhere else that night or stayed homeI would have never met you.” Sirynne: “I probably would have met you eventually.” Easton: “Probably but instead, we have that story.” Sirynne: “I mean, before you stood in my doorway with a big dirty old dog, I knew who you were.” Easton: “You did?” Sirynne: “Yes. You were Rocky’s crazy outrageous best friend who sings in that band with Kennedy Cole.” Easton: “Well I knew you too. I knew you as the girl at the show. I remember seeing you there, hanging out with my old drummer and your brother. I didn't know your name though. We’ve come a long way since then.” Sirynne: “It’s odd.” Easton: “What?” Sirynne: “I guess I wouldn’t have ever guessed we’d come so far from “that guy in that band” and “that girl from that show” Easton: “Yeah, back then, I wouldn’t have ever guessed.” [Both pause, looking down to the street again. They share a comfortable silence until Sirynne speaks.] Sirynne: “Do you remember the day your mom had the seizure?” Easton: “I can’t forget it. It was just you and me, coming back from Christmas shopping for your brother. We were going to Remy’s but we stopped inside to get the sweatshirt you left in my room.” Sirynne: “There was snow on the ground. You unlocked the front door and made some comment that your father would think you’re a slut because you were bringing another girl inside. Then that’s when he screamed.” Easton (screams, mimicking his dad) : “EASTON!” Sirynne: “I thought you were in trouble or something.”

25: Easton: “So did I. Then we ran inside, but the front door was locked, so I had to unlock it first to get inside, which we found odd. My mother was on the floor, unconscious.” Sirynne: “I was lost at what to do while your father frantically screamed at your mother in his arms to wake her up. We keep telling him to stop and calm down and not to touch her, but he didn’t listen. He was so desperate and justso scared.” Easton: “But not you and me. We were in work mode. I ran to the phone and called 9-1-1.” Sirynne: “Your dad told you to turn on the lights, but I did it for you because you were calling the ambulance. Even at desperate times he still minds enough to take his hate out on you.” Easton: “Eventually she started to wake up. She didn’t remember anything. My dad kept telling the same story in frantic desperation. He told it to you and me several times and then kept repeating it to the ambulance people. It sounded made up.” Sirynne: “And we've wondered since that day; who would have the time to carefully place the groceries on the table and lock the doors behind him while their wife is having a seizure on the floor?” Easton: “I remember that we debated it for hours afterward, trying to figure out what piece of the puzzle he was leaving out but more importantly, why. He was desperate \to tell his story to anyone that would listenlike he had to convince everyone he was telling the truth. Eventually, we just stopped worrying.” Sirynne: “We'll never know I guess. The whole thing was so chanced, but it changed me.” Easton: “I changed us both” Sirynne: “We went through all your notebooks after. Spread them all across your bed, all of it, and just read through them.” Easton (smiles): “Yeah, we did.” Sirynne (glances up to him) : “You're good, you know.” Easton: “Not good enough.” Sirynne: “Spoken like a true writer.” Easton: “It's what I do. It's what I've got.” Sirynne: “Well, it's worth a lot more than you know. Writing is freedom.” Easton: “Why's that?” Sirynne: “Well, you get to feel and perceive things how you want to and no one can tell you that you're wrong.” Easton: “You're a great writer yourself.” Sirynne (shrugs, leans out over the bannister, and stares down to the street below): “Maybe.” Easton: “You're talented in ways that I'm not.” Sirynne: “Back at ya.” Easton: “I don't think that anyone takes out enough time to really understand us.” Sirynne: “You do.” Easton: “I don't completely understand you. I wish I could.” Sirynne: “You get me more than most people.” Easton: “Yeah?”

26: Easton (smiles): “Yeah, we did.” Sirynne (glances up to him) : “You're good, you know.” Easton: “Not good enough.” Sirynne: “Spoken like a true writer.” Easton: “It's what I do. It's what I've got.” Sirynne: “Well, it's worth a lot more than you know. Writing is freedom.” Easton: “Why's that?” Sirynne: “Well, you get to feel and perceive things how you want to and no one can tell you that you're wrong.” Easton: “You're a great writer yourself.” Sirynne (shrugs, leans out over the bannister, and stares down to the street below): “Maybe.” Easton: “You're talented in ways that I'm not.” Sirynne: “Back at ya.” Easton: “I don't think that anyone takes out enough time to really understand us.” Sirynne: “You do.” Easton: “I don't completely understand you. I wish I could.” Sirynne: “You get me more than most people.” Easton: “Yeah?” Sirynne: “It's just that there's not many people I could stand on a rooftop with and discuss my philosophies of life with. You, however, are one of those people. You listen even when I sound mad.” Easton: “You listen to me...and I am mad.” [pauses, looks around frantically] “Did Shay leave?” Sirynne (turns, searching): “No, he's over there by the flag pole.” Easton: “SHAY!” Shay: “What?!” [Shay turns and waves from across the parking garage] Easton: “What are you doing over there, man?!” Shay: “I don't know! ...I'm thinking!” Easton (to Sirynne): “He's so strange but he's a good kid."

27: Sirynne: “Yeah, I like Shay.” Easton (pauses): “He loves you, you know.” Sirynne: “I know it.” Easton: “...so?” Sirynne: “So what?” Easton: “...I don't know.” Sirynne: “A lot of people love me. Actually, I think that they just think that they do.” Easton: “What about you?” Sirynne: “What?” Easton: “Do you love anyone?” Sirynne (shakes her head and makes a face): “Oh no, I hate everyone.” Easton: “I won't argue with you. Love is complicated but it will teach you a lot.” Sirynne: “I like being on my own. I don't have to worry about anyone but myself.” Easton: “But you do it anyway.” Sirynne: “True. No one has to worry about me though.” Easton: “But some do anyway, like me.” Sirynne: “Well, stop it.” Easton: “I can't.” Sirynne: “But it's me that worries about you. I worry that you don't see how great you are, I worry that your going to let your father get to you, I worry that no one will get to see the incredible songs you write, I worry someone is going to hurt you or take advantage of your big heart...but more than anything, my worrying for you is selfish because I worry that you're never going to worry about me.” Easton: “Not a day goes by that I don't worry about you. I worry about you, I think about you, I wonder about you...and if I'm not doing any of that, I'm dreaming about you. You never really leave my mind. I don't know what it is about you, but you just stick there.”

28: Sirynne: “I lied.” Easton: “You lied? About what?” Sirynne: “Before.” Easton: “When?” Sirynne: “When I told you that I didn't love anyone. That was a lie. I lied.” Easton (smiles): “So what's the truth?” Sirynne: “I wasn't going to tell you but then I realized that I might only have four seconds left. What if I leave this on my tongue to die there? That's ridiculous and I can't let it happen. If I want something then a risk is a small price to pay in order to get what I want, right? Why not just say it right? Better out then in...right?” Easton: “Sirynne” Sirynne: “Sorry, what?” Easton (grabs her by the shoulders and plants a smooth, deep kiss on her lips): “I love you.” Sirynne (in a whisper): “I love you too” Easton: “Well, the cat is out of the bag.” Sirynne: “What do you mean?” Easton: “Just that we used our four seconds wisely.” [Grabs a cigarette from his pocket and lights it. He turns away from the side of the building to realize that Shay is no longer there. Sirynne turns around with him] “Where's Shay?” Sirynne: “Did he leave?” Easton: “...I don't know.” [ Both run towards the opposite side of the building where Shay had been standing, overlooking the cityscape. They stand on their tip toes to lean over the edge and see the street below. Sirynne gasps in a frightened cry and her eyes fill with tears. She grabs Easton's hand with fear. Easton is struck with overwhelming perplexity and horror. They stand speechless, staring at the crippled lifeless body of their friend below]

29: Easton: “This can't be happening.” [As he leans over the edge, Easton's cigarette falls from his mouth and down through the air. It hits the street below, just to the right of Shay's body. Sirens begin to go off in the distance and city strangers go into a chaotic panic. Both remain silent for awhile.] Sirynne (in a whisper): “Four seconds.”

30: We Are The Night The cool still of the night drifts me away, And into an escape of gentle fantasy, Separating me from the strain of the everyday. The quiet creates a natural ecstasy. Embrace the quiet for it may not last. Submerge yourself into it like a steaming hot bath. I stand unwavering and proud as time rolls past. It grazes over my cheeks, it crosses over my path. Let your eyelids fall softly with the soothing calm Collide with the darkness and loathe the light. Simple as an element with the might of a bomb, Within my depths, I hold the key of the night. I neglect attention to the utopia of struggle and violence, As I listen in intently to the sound of silence.

31: Dinner In the midst, I can taste the infection My face goes hot with the good of the pain It curls through my stomach. It twists through my veins. It's less a sickness, more an obsession. Twitch beneath the tender touch, eyes roll back, I gasp for breath– and swear it's my last. I tease the moment. I neglect the past. I'm tangled in the soft venom, braced for impact. I wondered why he gave such a wicked smirk When I first asked what he wanted to eat, But I understood when I felt his cold touch and taint spread I'm consistently drawn to the dim corners that danger may lurk, Finding myself the trouble that welcomed my life's complete I invited him for dinner, but he had me instead.

32: “I Speak In Silence” My thoughts speak loudest in this busy room, It overwhelms the chatter. It overtakes the noise. Behind word of mouth, state of mind booms. We're so wild like fresh flowers in bloom Just waiting to be freed by the snip of the stem. My thoughts speak loudest in this busy room. The sounds of the wind, her alluring perfume; Admire the smallest things for their small beauty. Behind word of mouth, state of mind booms Even on our safest day, the threat of death looms This particular moment here is as good as any My thoughts speak loudest in this busy room Do not spend worry on your empty tomb Time will fill it with the grains of your life, Behind word of mouth state of mind booms A clear state can peer through the hazy fumes, And interpret life as it was intended; simple. My thoughts speak loudest in this busy room Behind word of mouth state of mind booms

33: New Kind Of Family We’re all different but we are one. We’ve stood together since it begun. Even when times get too rough, We stand together, we stay tough. A closer family, there is none. All so different, always fun, Cannot be replaced by anyone I swear these friends are enough, We’re all different but we are one. If things get hard, we never run We just stand behind everyone Times may grow hard, times may get rough, Beside these friends it’s not so tough Together, this war has been won. We’re all different but we are one.

35: Kid In The Flat Brim Hat Hey, kid in the flat brim hat! You drive me crazy and I love to hate that. Don’t pretend that you don’t care. In the corner of my eye, I see you stare. The lights flash over the glitter on my eyes, You don’t approach, but the bite of your lip doesn’t lie. I glance, ignore, and try to forget About that one sweet night I don’t regret You’re clever, probably nearly as clever as I. You pretend you’re not strung out. You’re so sly. But tomorrow morning, I know I’ll receive a text. After a “hey”, you’ll impatiently wait for what I say next. But there’s a secret that I’ve not let you known. Though, through my desperate glances, it’s probably shown. Kid in the flat brim hat, you are one of a kind And since that strange kiss, you haven’t left my mind. You’ve left your mark, mentally and physically too. Kid in the flat brim hat, I think I might like you.

36: Deal With The Devil The demon king's grotesque smile beamed down. A cold swift strum plays it's disease. Bent over his guitar, he performs to the ground. He's genius; he's precise, but plays with ease. A cold swift strum plays it's disease The thick curse hails down to take this expensive toll. He's genius; he's precise, but plays with ease. The devil cackles, “Just to play guitar, you've sold your soul?” To the scream of the notes, he's happily bound The price was worth this beautiful sound.

38: Chillin' Like A Villain For all the people I've turned away, And all the faces that still haunt me today, This is not an apology. I'm not sorry for what I've done! Post this in the center of town, Because when you find it, I'll be long gone I didn't mean to disappoint you, But you lost faith in me a long time ago. All I wanted was for you to see A whole new side to me. I was nauseous with beauty... I'll tear it down, I'll burn this town to the ground To the ground, to the ground, As I watched smoke roll out of of all I've ever known, Triumph fell over me, Staining my hands with the color of victory. Are you proud of me now? ...Are you proud?

39: Avoid eye contact, avoid eye contact Maybe I won't see you, Hidden in plain view. They all avoid eye contact. I couldn't resist, maybe it's my nature, Maybe it's been waiting inside me, ready to rupture. So, are you proud of me now? Put this disaster into your past, Nice guys always finish last. Angel from above, please rescue us from mayhem And god bless the souls that rot in the ground I laid them. Post this in the center of town-- ...Or whatever's left of it. Can you hear me now? As you look to the sky for guidance, It's opaque with layers of thick smoke, No one is coming to save you from me. This is my town now. No one will soon forget me. Isn't that what you wanted? This is your fault! You could have saved them all. This is your fault. Are you proud of me now? ...well, aren't you proud?

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Gabby Lang
  • By: Gabby L.
  • Joined: over 5 years ago
  • Published Mixbooks: 1
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About This Mixbook

  • Title: Creative Writing 2011
  • All my work from highschool creative writing class joined together to form a neat, organized book of my own personal work.
  • Tags: None
  • Published: over 5 years ago

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