Pheonix Continued

The school day dragged on like usual, with nothing out of the ordinary. Small talk was discussed between me and my friends after school, then I started walking home. Half way there, I started feeling a strange tingling in my finger tips and my toes. Then, my long blonde hair started to whip around my face like a small tornado had just sprung up under my feet. This was so odd, because the weather only minutes ago had been perfect, with a slight breeze and the sunshine smiling down upon me. I realized I had closed my eyes, and as I opened them the intense wind stopped. Everything was back to normal instantly, which stunned me for a minute. The tingling, or should I say burning, sensation came back with a vengeance. Then I had an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. This feeling… I have felt it before. When? That is the question I do not know the answer to.

My mind went blank. The world seemed to be on mute. I could not hear birds or chattering voices or cars passing by. Then, flames burst around me. I felt the heat that they expelled upon me, but I didn’t even flinch. The warmth was not like pain, instead it was more like a comfort. Like a release of energy and emotion that had been built up too long inside of me. This was like a dream. Then I finally remembered. My dream. I had a repetitive dream where I was being engulfed by fire ever since I was a small child. When I told my parents about it a few years ago, they took me to a hypnotist and ever since I had not been able to recall that dream, and I have never had that dream again. Yet now, my dream has become a reality. The flames were still burning bright around me, and almost by instinct I raised up my arms. Then I brought them back down to my sides, and simultaneously my body was easily flung into the sky. A million thoughts were racing through my head; I ignored all but one: I am a phoenix.

Blogs and Comments

I read stories from Madelyn’s blog and Jane’s blog.

 In Jane’s blog, the stories that I read and commented on include Not a Real Love Story, If I Were in Charge of the World, I Know Why…, Quotes, and Famous First and Last Lines. Out of all of them, my favorite piece to read was If I Were in Charge of the World, because I could relate to a lot of the things that she would change about the society we live in.

In Madelyn’s blog, the stories that I read and commented on included The Enchanted Forest, The Call of the Sea, Memorable Quotes, For the Joy of Flight, and If I Were in Charge of the World. My favorite piece of hers was The Enchanted Forest, because I am in love with her creative idea that is expressed in the piece, and I would be excited to read a book about that, if she were to expand on from this short story to write a whole novel or series about it.

The Red Rose... Be Yourself... Pieces Inspired From the Newspaper

The lady with the red rose sits at her window, waiting to see the rest of her exquisite collection of flowers bloom. Looking forward to their scent wafting her way on the cool spring breeze. That might be the only thing that could clear her gloomy thoughts. They are the only thing she has to depend on in the world at this point in her life. There was once a man who stole her heart, but ever since the thief plucked her passionate heart from her chest, she has never been able to retrieve it. She is left wondering who she really is. She is left pondering why she is on this Earth. She is left wishing, hoping, praying to find her true direction in life soon. Patient she must be. Yet, her mind will not stop wandering to intense thoughts of the man who she once adored even more than her beloved flowers. Still, the fact remains that he had taken off with her pounding heart in his grasp just a few days earlier. He left but one thing, a single rose. The single rose that was the first to bloom out of her entire patch of magnificent flowers. He had cut it down out of spite, and lay it on the bed where he was supposed to be. Where he said he would stay forever with her. Now the lady grasps the red rose and clings it to her chest. She sways back and forth in a comforting manner in her worn, white, wooden rocking chair that is facing right towards the open window. She can hear the birds singing their solemn hymns. A gust of wind reaches her weeping visage, causing her cheeks to feel as if they were suddenly frozen to ice. She does not care. She wants her flowers. Her colorful babies that give her comfort when nothing else can. The lady now is left doubled over in her rocking chair. Letting all her sorrows flow through her. The red rose is dying, crumpling, wasting away in her gentle hands.

 

Be yourself. Don’t let anyone keep you from discovering your full potential. Always remember that the majority of your precious beauty lays inside your bosom, nestled tightly within your deepest thoughts.

Be a child, while you still have the chance. Enjoy fluttering around like a passionate fairy and dressing like a royal princess. Explore everything are you and dream as much as your little heart desires.

Laugh out loud. Cherish your friends and family that love you more than you may love yourself. Don’t grow up until you have to. Stay exuberant, be tenacious, and whoop it up.

Ghost Killers

They shoot the white girl first. Her dainty body collapsed onto the classroom floor. Everyone suddenly stood dead silent. Enough tension hung in the air that gravity seemed to put twice as much pressure on all of the glassy-eyed teenagers’ shoulders. Time seemed to slow, then after an eternity, Tina’s classmates ran away from the man covered in black. Tina stayed statuesque, paralyzed and shocked. To her, it looked as if everyone was trying to run under water. When she adjusted her gaze past the chaotic bodies rushing past her, she saw eyes that were behind an all-black face mask. They did not strike her as the eyes of a killer. They were wise and deep blue; Tina swore she saw a hint of sorrow seeping from his most expressive feature. A glimmer of a tear shined in the bright light that was radiating down onto him from above. He then lifted the gun. She saw straight down the barrel, then she was immediately struck back into reality. “This is actually happening.” Her brain kept repeating the simple yet powerful phrase in her mind. As if by instinct, Tina crumpled down to her feet right as the trigger of the gun was pulled. She locked her body into a fetal position, with her hands thrown defensively over her head. After a few more shots rang out and more horrific shrieks escaped the mouths of others, the man in the black fell. Tina forced herself to look up. Her vision was horribly blurred and distorted from her tears, but she could still make out the red. The deep scarlet color grew on the floor around the man’s head. Then she saw the official mark of death laying in the middle of his forehead. Tina looked backward at her teacher, who white knuckles were shaking while grasping her own gun. Tina, without thinking, screamed “NO! He wasn’t… he didn’t… he…” then her voice broke off and she started bawling uncontrollably. She knew she noticed something, almost like innocence, in his eyes. Then when her thoughts started clearing up, she realized that no one would believe her. No one else saw what she saw, or felt what she felt.

Their plan was working perfectly. The malicious duo was more intelligent than expected from a group of men who didn’t even go to college. They shared a mutual hatred of teenagers, even though one of them was barely older than eighteen himself. The young counterpart’s accomplice in these crimes was a stubborn old man. Their mixture of a psychotic nature and smarts, led to an enormous amount of blood on their hands. Together they invested the time and money into the making of a specialized brain chip. Once implanted into an innocent and unknowing victim, their body would do whatever the two men leisurely typed on their high-tech keyboards. The most sinister part of their brain chip, was that it could not block the subjects’ thoughts, so they were conscious and doomed to watch the rest of their life play out in front of their eyes. They had no control over their body at all, but they felt everything that happened to them. All of the unlucky chosen subjects were eventually killed or thrown into prison, due to actions that they did not commit of their own accord. Yet, no one would ever be smart enough to figure out the two devilish men’s role in all of the murders and robberies. The thought of being able to dodge such a bullet filled the two men with joy and a feeling of success so strong, that they almost believed they were invincible or even immortal. The elderly man had come up with the whole plan many years ago, but just recently met a young man willing to help him achieve his evil hopes and dreams. The wrinkled scumbag crawls into bed the same night that he and his partner had succeeded their first large-scale school shooting. He was very satisfied with himself. He even smiled in his sleep. The old man was dreaming about the lions.

The Old Man and the Sea

“The old man was dreaming about the lions.”

        This line ends the novel The Old Man and the Sea, published in 1952 by author Ernest Hemingway, who was born in Oak Park, Illinois on July 21, 1899. This novel is set at sea, far out in the Gulf Stream. The main character is an elderly Cuban fisherman, who is encountering a relentless, agonizing battle with a giant marlin in deep waters. The fisherman must regain his courage after a dreadful sense of defeat. I love the water, and any book that has a setting on the sea interests me. Then, after discovering the overall summary, I decided that I would like to read this novel at some point in my life. The Old Man and the Sea also seems like a perfect book for teenagers, because they have to overcome many difficulties in their life, similar to the old man in the novel.

Paradise

“They shot the white girl first.”

This line opens the novel Paradise, published in 1998 by author Toni Morrison, who was born in Lorain, Ohio on 18 February 1931. This novel is based in a patriarchal community named Ruby. The founders of which are descendants of freed slaves and survivors in exodus from a hostile and racist world. The community has an underlying foundation of righteousness, fear, and rigidly enforced law. The conflict has to do with the additional group of exiles that gathered a promised land of their own, only seventeen miles away from Ruby. What does not help the situation is that nine male citizens of Ruby feel the urge to take out their feelings of pain, terror, and murderous rage on some unlucky victims.

            I am intrigued by the title and opening sentence to the novel Paradise, and for those main reasons I would want to read it. I do not regularly go outside of my typical genres of books including fictitious horror and mystery, but I would definitely give this book a chance.

Thoughts on a Simple Quote

This small quote from Watchers by Dean Koontz is only one of the many written passages in the novel that tell the reader about life. When I read this quote it reminds me of all of the evil in this world. As Dean puts it, people who “find their happiness only in the misery of others.” For me it is hard to believe there are so many criminals living among us. Psychopaths that only live to cause others pain and suffering. That ideal actually ties into another book of his that I am currently reading named Intensity. The concept of evil human beings must be on Koontz’s mind often. The thought of a perfect society is quite tempting, but I think Koontz and I both see that there will always be an imbalance to the way our world and society works. Koontz is obviously aware of these people, as am I. Even though it seems logical to many regular citizens that harming another human being is wrong, there are others that just don’t get the message. Either that, or they don’t think they need to obey the laws of our society. This quote turns my brain into a tornado of thoughts swirling around in my cranial cavity, and I could focus forever on all of the corrupt and criminal people among us, but in the end I finally decide that society is how it is. There is nothing we can change about that; all we can do is learn to protect ourselves and be aware that not everyone in this world is looking to protect us and keep us safe.  

Quotes Everyone Should Live By

Writers as Readers: Responses to Questions one, two, and five

When I read, I need a very quiet, somber environment. Otherwise, I will not be able to focus on what I am reading at all. When I am allowed to sit in peace with a book I get sucked into its pages and the book flies through my brain as if I am watching a real time movie. I can even get so attached to characters that I start to think and act like they do in the book.

    Genres of novels that intrigue me include sci-fi, fantasy, mystery, and horror. I am absolutely appalled by gooey romantic books, as well as books that are just plain depressing. My favorite kinds of books are the ones that I can’t put down. I fall in love with books that have a twist ending. I am drawn to horror books, because it reminds me that things in my life could always be worse. Plus, I love the little adrenaline rushes I get without being in real danger. Those kind of books always keep me on edge and wanting to find out what is going to happen next. I love sci-fi and fantasy books because I have always been an imaginative person and I love the idea of so many unknown creatures, planets, or entire universes that the human race is unaware of. Mystery novels amaze me, because they throw so many things at you and you have to learn as a reader how to put them all together. Then, as the narrator begins to have all of the answers unfold, I feel as if I have accomplished something and gained knowledge of how the world works and understand more sociology. Which in turn helps me understand the human race just a little bit more.

    When I was little, I would love to read Goosebumps by R.L. Stine. Those were some of the books that I could finish in a few days, but those are really considered children’s books. The first novel that comes to mind when I think of not being able to put it down, is Watchers by Dean Koontz. It is pretty hard to keep my attention in a book, but once you have my attention I am all in. This book caught me off guard from the minute I read the first page, and all I wanted to do was find out more. Discover what will happen next. There is so much intense rising action packed into the body of the book that it was the only thing I could think about until I had finished it. Even after I had finished it, I sat and pondered over the entirety of the book, and how much I adored every bit of it. One book that I have just started that I know will take me forever to get through and fully understand is The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne. I am flabbergasted at the kind of writing that is featured throughout this novel. I have just started it and the teacher needed to explain almost all of what I had read in the first two chapters before I truly grasped what was happening and what all the words meant. One thing that makes the book even harder for me to read is that it is ALL run-on sentences. That bothers me to the core of my being, because all of my life English teachers have taught children not to use run-on sentences. But now they are introducing us to a novel that they worship, and it has RUN-ON SENTENCES. It may seem odd to some how much that irritates me, but I have legitimate reasoning for my emotions towards this book and it’s style of writing.

My Thoughts Alongside the Thoughts of Maya Angelou

Maya Angelou believes the caged bird sings of freedom. To break free of its cage and be able to fly through the wide open sky, because birds are not happy being entrapped. They are enraged and depressed that all of their life they will just be a source of entertainment for humans, instead of living like a free bird should. I agree with Maya’s thoughts about caged birds completely. I would never want to justify keeping animals that are meant to fly, locked up in a small enclosure. I understand why caged birds like to sing. Sometimes I feel trapped, but not by a physical barrier; only a mental fence that I put around myself with the “help” of others. In one word from my parents, electricity is pumped through the fence and I can hear a faint buzz and hum coming off of it. This electric fence in my mind makes me feel small, worthless, and out of control of my own life. Yet, when I sing, it helps me get the courage to rip the fence down. Singing also helps me realize that I can be in control, I just need to have the right mindset. If at some point in my life I feel as if my heart is void of all happiness, all I have to do is blast my favorite song and sing along with the upbeat music in the background cheering me on. Then, my spirits will be lifted and I will be able to remind myself of all of the good things that I am lucky enough to have in my life.

            For me, talking about bad dreams or events doesn’t give them more power over me. In my experiences, I feel better when I talk about those things. When I do, it allows me to have everything out in the open. Sometimes it even helps me get closure, especially when my friends and family members have good things to tell me in response. Their words reassure me that everything will be alright, even when it feels like the world is crashing down around me. Talking to people about bad things in my life is a much better alternative for me, instead of keeping them inside and trying to suppress my thoughts of them all by myself. When I suppress bad things, they never get resolved. When you just hope something will go away on its own, you are wrong. I always need to face what is bothering me head on or it will never leave my thoughts.

I Sing of...

I sing of happiness:

Hiding from despair.

Flying away from depression

And anxiety that engulfs me every day of my life.

Singing is freedom:

Showing the world

And myself

That I have a voice.

That I control how I handle my own situations.

That my state of mind influences my level of happiness.

If I Were in Charge of the World

If I were in charge of the world

I’d cancel cold,

Freezing wind,

Hopeless nights, and also

Low self-esteem.

 

If I were in charge of the world

There’d be bright beaches around every corner,

More generous souls wandering the Earth, and

Happiness radiating from everyone’s smiles.

 

If I were in charge of the world

You wouldn’t have stalkers,

You wouldn’t have pedophiles,

You wouldn’t have murderers,

Or “If you don’t believe in my god you don’t deserve to live.”

You wouldn’t even have any conflict dealing with religion.

 

If I were in charge of the world

A steak with a side of seafood

Would be a vegetable.

All races and genders would be treated the same.

And a person who sometimes forgot to do their chores

And sometimes forgot to be kind to annoying individuals

Would still be allowed to be

In charge of the world.

Recent Dream...

After I wrote a poem called Phoenix, I had a dream where I got a large beautiful watercolor tattoo of a phoenix. The dream started with me (in first person) walking into a tattoo parlor without any idea of what I wanted to get. The artist enthusiastically came up to me with a drawing of a large peacock that was made entirely out of interlocking monkeys. I got really excited and told him that was what I would like to get, but with a few color changes from the original drawing. I laid down on the cushiony chair and had my shirt lifted, because we decided that my back would showcase the artwork perfectly. He started working on it, then half way through he sent me home. When I got home I rushed over to the mirror, and I saw a magnificent burst of color that exploded into the form of a majestic phoenix. I loved it so much that I went straight back to the tattoo parlor to get it finished. By that time it was very late at night, almost into the morning hours. Somehow my parents and my friend showed up and were in the shop with me. They were carrying a baby that apparently was mine. I felt bad that they were there with me so late at night, and I told them they could go home and get some sleep. They responded happily that they wanted to stay with me until my tattoo was finished.

I am one of the many people that believe dreams have deeper meanings, and that they are not all just random scenes made up by our brains. I think that our subconscious is very good at mashing a lot of ideas and premonitions into our dreams. There are even books that explain what certain things in dreams could represent. From what I have researched, “To see your body appearing tattooed, foretells that some difficulty will cause you to make a long and tedious absence from your home.” Also, to dream of “a bright, clean baby, denotes love requited, and many warm friends.”

Horror Dream Thread

I was stuck, paralyzed and petrified as he stalked through the shadows, his knife gleaming in the moonlight. My heavy breaths were coming out of me like crashing waves. Suddenly I snapped back into my senses. RUN, I told myself. And so I was off. The funny thing was that the mysterious man was not chasing after me. Then I thought to myself, he must be one of those meticulous murderers… stalking his prey stealthily, quietly, calmly. I slowed my pace then, realizing that running around like a chicken with its head cut off would get me nowhere. I needed to match his intelligence level if I wanted to be able to get away alive. The next thing I know, I am on the ground, sprawled out as if someone or something had thrown me hard against the ground. I started to panic. What is happening? How did I get here? Am I up against a psycho killer or worse- a malevolent entity? My chest started heaving up and down as all of those questions raced through my thoughts. Then I felt a warmth pricking at my skin. It was comforting after being in the frigid cold forest for I don’t know how long. I closed my eyes and imagined that I was in my cozy home, snuggled up with my husband by the roaring fire place. Suddenly I was shocked back into reality. My eyes opened wide and now I knew why I felt so warm… I see fire.