Me, Me, & ......... ME!

By Rachel, 14, USA

Hey everyone it's moi, the anonymous writer on this site! I just wanted to take some time to say how much I appreciate everyone reading my work and I love the oppurtunity to write for you all!
I especially love it if you read my work & reply to it, tell me what you think, and what changes should be made. I like a nice, honest opinion!
Please visit my page as often as you can because I update it at least every other day! Thank you tons! (July 2005)


*~*Rachel*~* P.S. Please Reply!!!

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Just Let Go

By Rachel, 14, USA

After a major tragedy,
overcomes your life.
You learn to take things the hard way,
like allowing the blade of a knife.

After a sadness sweeps o'er the land,
after a desolate drought.
You probably know what I mean,
and what this is all about …

You learn to move on,
and to let go.
You learn to keep going,
even though the sadness is still showing.

You force a smile,
even though you're mad.
You force a giggle,
even though you're sad.

You stifle a cry,
of pain and angst.
Showing how very brave you are,
this is how everyone knows you are truly a star!
(July 2005)

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Forever Young

By Rachel, 14, USA

If I could sip a magic potion,
keeping me real small.
I wouldn't have to grow up,
really really tall.

I wouldn't have to get a job,
or pay those stinky bills.
Since I wouldn't be taking any tests,
I wouldn't get spine-tingling chills.

No more suits and no more ties,
no more panty hose.
A lot of things would have to leave,
I'd wave "Goodbye, it's time you go."

I'd stay a kid forever,
for all the years to come,
I wouldn't have to drive a car,
yet in a way it wouldn't be fun.

Because then I wouldn't get married,
and have a bunch of kids.
Who would learn to make their own mistakes,
just like I once did!
(July 2005)

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A Rare & Beautiful Thing

By Rachel, 14, USA

A thing we take for granted,
Is something that can be great.
It can be as silly as a shoe,
or as delicate as a skate.

The things in life we shun,
turn out like once-thorny roses.
The petals open up to the sun,
Just look at them taking their poses!

An ugly little duckling,
can turn out really quite pretty.
An outcast suburban woman,
can end up rich in the city!

A beaten-up rag doll with no eye,
can be sewn and magically repaired.
It would be as if all these things were loved again,
and somebody actually cared.
(July 2005)

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Alarm Clock

By Rachel, 14, USA

In the morning of a school day,
something wakes me up.
It's not my Mother calling my name,
it's simply my Alarm Clock.

It buzzes, beeps, and bounces,
it flies right off the wall,
it jumps and leaps and twirls;
now I have seen it all!

I slap the button with my hand,
it finally just stops humming.
"You're going to miss the bus," Mom complains.
That's when I start my running.

I catch the bus in the nick of time;
luckily for my Alarm Clock I'm not late,
I didn't suffer a terrible fate.
And thanks to Mom I didn't die,
but that annoying buzzing still made me cry.
(January 2005)

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A Jar of Sour Pickle Juice

By Rachel, 14, USA

A jar of something creepy,
was sitting on a bench,
it was green and icky,
and had a dreadful stench.

I twisted open the lid,
and I peered inside,
what I saw
made me cry.

It was a bundle of pickles,
all green and slimy too,
I never ate pickles after that day;
I can't blame me; can you?

Those pickles cast a shiver,
right down my spine.
The sight of the dreadful green veggies,
made my whole self whine.

I tossed them in the garbage,
and sat there with a pout,
for I didn't know what this whole deal
was really all about.
(January 2005)

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Heaven on Earth

By Rachel, 14, USA

"You can do this, Edward, we know you can do this," Edward Flinton's parents whispered into his ear as he lay quietly on the cot in the lonely hospital room. "Just breathe in and out. It will be over soon, we promise." Even though Edward's eyes were closed, his ears were not. He was listening to every word his parents were telling him and he smiled a little, too.

"How does it look, Doctor?" Edward overheard his father speaking to the Doctor.
"I'm afraid… not so good, Paul, not so good," the Doctor replied as he removed his plastic gloves and tossed them in the waste basket.
"What do you mean 'not so good'? It has to be good. He's all right, isn't he? He has to be!" Edward's dad complained.
The Doctor leaned against the countertop, glanced over at Edward, and then back to Mr. Flinton, "I'm sorry, Mr. Flinton, but it doesn't look like Edward's going to make it much longer. It's surprising he's been able to hold on this long." And with that the Doctor strode out of the room and left Edward with his parents in pure silence.

After about a moment's silence, Mrs. Flinton broke out into tears. She couldn't hold back the urge any longer. Mr. Flinton even had to take her arm and lead her out of the room into the Waiting Room where she could calm herself as to not make Edward worry. Little did they know, Edward was already quite aware of what was going on. He knew he couldn't battle his cancer any longer. He had already lost all his hair, his hearing in his right ear, and his hope of surviving.

Edward sat there in the quiet, watching as dust bunnies circled the lamp on the table beside his bed. The warm, radiant glow from the lamp cast a shadow on the Get Well Soon card his best friend, Bobby, had sent him. Along with the card were numerous boquets of flowers, bundles of teddy bears, and boxes of the finest chocolates. But none of these would make Edward as happy as he would if his cancer went away and he was homebound.
After all, Edward Flinton hadn't been home for months and months and he had already lost count.

The door opened a crack and in stepped his father. He sat on the edge of the bed, took Edward's hand into his, and patted it comfortingly, "Everything is going to be…"
But Mr. Flinton was cut off by his son, "No, Dad, I know what you are going to say. Everything is not going to be all right. I know what's going on, Dad. I heard. My cancer isn't showing signs of going away and I know that I could… pass any time now."
It took Mr. Flinton a minute or two to finally say something in reply, "I'm afraid you're right, son. I'm so sorry." Edward was wondering if that's all his father had to say, but Mr. Flinton couldn't find the words to describe how he felt for his poor son.

That night, around 7:00, Mr. Flinton and Mrs. Flinton went home and Edward was left at the hospital with the doctors and nurses frantically dashing from one hospital room to the next. Edward couldn't sleep with the beeping of the monitor in his room, the rolling of a cart's wheels down the hall, a distant moan from a patient, and the clip-clopping of the nurses' high heels on the tiled hallway floors.
He tossed and turned and thought of how he had taken his precious life for granted. It was that one day at baseball practice that changed his life. He pictured that day in his mind and rethought all the terrible things that took place. They were receiving their trophies when Mr. Flinton got the call on his cell phone that the test was positive and Edward had cancer. That one, solitary day changed the rest of his life forever.
Thoughts swirled through his mind and bugged him. He looked up and saw rain drizzling outside his barred window. He turned his back to the window and his face was now facing the door which was cracked open just enough to allow a sliver of light simmer its way onto the floor.
Finally, after thinking happy thoughts about his little sister who would be born in just a few weeks, Edward managed to shut his eyelids and drift off into a deep slumber.
"Wake up, sleepy head, it's time for your breakfast," Nurse Betty's chirpy voice awoke Edward. When he opened his eyes he found himself in a different hospital room.
"Where am I, Nurse Betty?" He asked as he sat up in bed and looked at the room around him.
"I'm sorry, Hon, but we had to move you again. We had a man who had been shot by a bullet come in late last night and while you were sleeping, we carried you in here and let the man who had been shot have your old room. Hope you don't mind."
"Not really," Edward admitted, "but where are my flowers and cards?"
"Oh those? Nurse Patricia is bringing them in later on. Right now she's putting clean bedsheets on for the man."
"What's the man's name?" Edward asked as he examined the french toast sticks on his breakfast tray.
"His name is Benedict I think. Well, enjoy your meal," and Nurse Betty dashed out of the room.

Edward bit into one of the french toast sticks and smiled with delight as he swallowed it down with a cupful of orange juice.

"How is he? How's the boy holding up?" Edward heard two nurses whispering outside his room.
"Oh, Edward Flinton? He's fine, he's fine. He's in there now eating his breakfast."
"But do you…" the other nurse paused, "do you suppose he knows about the c-a-n-c-e-r?"
"I dunno. Nurse Betty says he does but… knowing children, well, you just never know."
And their conversation drifted with them as they continued walking down the hall.

When Edward was finishing up the last french toast stick, his parents came into the room. "How's my man?" Dad said playfully as he handed Edward a baseball.
"What's this, Dad?" Edward turned the baseball around in his hand.
"That, my boy, is a sign that your team, the Bluejays, won the cup! You won the championship, bud, congratulations!" His Dad bounced around the room with glee for him. "Oh, and by the way, all your teammates signed the homer ball and they told me to tell you they miss ya."
Edward reached over and hugged both his parents.
Then Mr. Flinton kneeled down beside his son, "Edward," he said, taking his hand, "even if these fews days are going to be your… last… we are going to make them the best days of your life you have ever had!"

Edward paused to rethink this, "But, Dad, that isn't even possible. There's no way we can have any fun in this Hospital."
"I know, that's why we're going outside, bud!"
"Outside? But, but, but we can't, Dad. Doctor Craig would have a fit."
"Well you leave that up to me. I already talked to Doctor Craig and Nurse Betty and they gave me the OK. Anything you want to do these next fews days is absolutely OK by us. Right, honey?" And he looked over at Mrs. Flinton who quickly nodded in agreement.

Outside, Edward and his Dad played ball awhile and his Dad even surprised him by bringing his whole team over to the baseball field and they all played a baseball game like old times. Edward even got to be the pitcher; his favorite position.
After a nice game of baseball with his pals, Edward requested to go to some Museums and get some ice cream and go play some ice hockey. But by the time all this was finished, he was worn out.

Back at the hospital, his parents waved goodbye again and left for home. He ate some dinner of ravioli and garlic bread and dozed off.

Next morning, Nurse Betty awoke him. She opened the shades and the morning sun poured in. "Beautiful day, rise and shine, scout," she chirped and she handed him his breakfast of Cheerios and a glass of apple juice.

Later, when his parents came for their regular visit and they were about to take him outside, they received some dreadful news. Edward was not going to make it another day and he couldn't go outside under any circumstances. He was to stay inside at all times and some more tests had to be taken.
Fearfully, Edward's parents paced in the Waiting Room as Edward had numerous tests done and papers written and signed.
The clock in the Waiting Room ticked and time seemed to stand still.
Finally, Doctor Craig walked out into the Waiting Room. But what he had to tell the Flintons made them even more unhappy and anxious. Things weren't looking so good for Edward.
"Why can't we see our son? We want to go in and see our son!" Mr. Flinton complained.
Doctor Craig replied, "We will let you two in as soon as the tests are all done, I promise you that," and he vanished through the swinging doors and into the Operating Room.

While waiting, Mrs. Flinton began to grow sweaty and her baby was kicking many countless times. She felt like she was going into labor. "This is not a good time to go into labor," Mr. Flinton complained, even though he knew she couldn't help it whatsoever.
The Flinton's little girl was about to be born the same time their only son was fighting for his life.
"This can't be," Mr. Flinton said, "this just can't be." He immediately rushed in to tell his son the great news. This made Edward smile.

Three hours later, Mrs. Flinto was giving birth and Edward was still being held in the Operating Room. Mr. Flinton didn't know where to turn. But he stood beside his wife and there in Mrs. Flinton's arms his beautiful baby girl. Maybe this was some kind of sign as to say that God wanted Edward to be able to see his sister before he passed.
"I must go show her to her older brother!" Mr. Flinton proclaimed as he cradled their baby, Grace, and rushed her into the Operating Room. "Edward, Edward, look! It's your sister, Grace! She was born one week early! Isn't that fantastic?"
Edward smiled from ear to ear and reached over to grasp his new sister and then he looked at his Dad with his eyes watering.

"Father," he spoke in gentle, angelic words, "now you have seen both the miracle of the beginning of life… and the end of life where I shall be born into a new life of even better things to come for me. Even happier times. I will be so much happier in Heaven, Father." And with that, Edward blinked for the last time, smiled, and shut his eyes.
Mr. Flinton broke out into tears of joy as he and Mrs. Flinton and Grace gathered around his bed and embraced him in a circle of love. Edward would forever remain in their hearts.

Later on, when they were cleaning out Edward's hospital room, they discovered a picture he had drawn with crayons beneath a pile of Get Well Soon cards. On it he had drawn his Dad and Mom hugging, and him holding his sister in front of a beautiful sunset with Angels hovering above their heads; strumming their harps and singing to the Heavens.

Never would Edward Flinton be forgotton. Never.
(January 2005)

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Coming to Life

By Rachel, 14, USA

The puppet that sat in the workshop,
was lonely and forgotten by a child,
she sat there staring blankly,
at old magazines that were highly piled.

One day when the sun was just rising,
the door of the workshop creaked,
the puppet sat there silently,
but inside she was truly freaked.

A little child about two or three,
came running up to her,
could the puppet be dreaming?
Or was this whole thing for sure?

The little child embraced the puppet,
and danced with the puppet in tatters,
but now that they were united,
nothing else really did matter.

The puppet came to life and her beady eyes glowed,
her heart warmed up and her happiness showed,
the child laughed gaily and the puppet just beamed,
the both of them were happy now; or that's the way it seemed.

The sun began to set later on,
and their playtime was now all done.
The child had to go to bed,
this was the end of their fun.

The puppet closed its eyes once more,
and dozed off into a dream,
even though this happy day passed,
the memory continued to gleam.
(January 2005)

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Dismal Days

By Rachel, 14, USA

The dismal days of December,
with chunks of coal and ember.
The miserbale days of March,
with nasty things like starch.
The sappy days of September,
those days I shall always remember.
Those mad, mad days of May,
I thought they'd never go away.
Those jealous days of June,
those jealous days will be over soon.
The jaunty days of July,
where all the kids would lie.
Those naughty days of November,
these months I shall always remember.

All these things I have said,
simply just popped into my head.
None of it is even true,
I don't believe it. Do you?
I just like to rhyme random words,
even though it sounds absurd.
Now that this poem is done,
I think I'm through with my fun.
(January 2005)

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Down Barringer Boulevard

By Rachel, 14, USA

Isadora and Stanley Vikkson lived on the last place on earth you would ever think to search. They lived at the very end of Barringer Boulevard in the very last home in the very last cul-de-sac.
The weather there was never pleasant and, not surprisingly, neither were the neighbors. Every family kept to themselves and no one on Barringer Boulevard ever conversed or stepped foot on another family's property.
I say property because every house on Barringer Boulevard had a concrete square instead of a yard of healthy, green grass. Every home was a despicable, despairing grey shade with dark black shutters and a mildew-tinted rooftop.

Isadora was sitting, sad and all alone, out on the tireswing that hung from the droopy branches of the solitary, leaf-less and fruitless tree beside the house. The clouds that hovered above were glaring unhappily down toward her and instead of being fluffy like clouds should be, they were scraggly and spiky. It looked as if it were about to pour any moment.
Isadora used her black boots, which were sooted from having to clean the chimney numerous times, to push off the ground and swing backward.
Stanley came outside with his hands stuffed deep into his pant pockets and the little pea-sized glasses that rested on the crook of his nose stared in disbelief down toward the dismal concrete ground.

"We'd better go inside," Stanley finally muttered; breaking the awkward silence.
"You go ahead. I'm gonna stay here a little while longer. I need some thinking time." And with that, Isadora pushed off again and went flying backward and forward - two and fro.
"All right, but it's going to rain, so don't stay out too long. Father says if you stay outside while it is raining, you will catch a deadly cold."
Isadora shrugged as she was swinging and so Stanley ambled through the rusty grey door of their home.

As the clouds open up only moments later and the pebbles on the ground bounced about and as the rain began to drip-drop at first steadily and then drizzle and then soon pour down to the earth, Isadora stopped swinging and just sat on the swing with her head staring up toward the overcast sky.
"What is this? Is this a sign?" she shouted toward the heavens. "Is this some kind of message to say my life will get better soon? Will Father ever return? Will Mother ever quit her habit? Will we ever be one, big, happy family again? Or is this just another way of telling us that more bad luck is to come of the Vikkson family? What is this?"
Then, the rain halted. The distant thunder stopped. It was like life was on pause. Was this a sign? Were things going to get any better for the Vikksons?
Isadora's heart skipped a beat and she was overjoyed. She went inside to share her glee with her twin, Stanley, but he was busy with his nose in another Science novel.

"What are you bickering about now, Isadora? Can't you see I'm busy?" Mrs. Vikkson stated, quite perturbed, when Isadora tried explaining the situation to her.
"I'm sorry, Mother, I just thought you would like to hear my feelings on the matter. Maybe the rain ending was some sort of… sign."
"Dora, hunny, there is no such thing as religion, luck, and 'signs'. Trust me. Now go do your homework or go in your room and play with your dollies or whatever it is you kids do these days." And with that, Mrs. Vikkson pulled a cigarette out of her pocket and lit it with a metallic silver lighter.
"Mother, please don't call me Dora. You can call me Isa, or even Isador for all I care. Just… anything but Dora."
"Like it even matters," her Mother cackled sinisterly as she blew a puff of disgusting smoke into the air.
Isadora winced and shuddered at the thought of her Mother continuing this dreadful habit, and she immediately marched to her room and did her homework as she was told.

"I heard what Mother said to you," Isadora looked up and saw Stanley perched in the doorway of her miniscule room. "What all did she say?"
"She doesn't believe me. She says I'm lying. She thinks that 'signs' are made up."
"That's too bad, Isa. Sorry to hear it. But living on Barringer Boulevard is plain ol' bad luck. Nothing ever changes."
"Well it might, Stanley! Why can't you just have a little faith? Of course with that attitude we're never going to get anywhere!" And Isadora charged out of the room and went back outside to the tireswing.


Outside of her home, she spotted one of her few neighbors across the street; picking invisible weeds in his invisible garden. Mr. Eisenhower wasn't exactly a normal human being. He believed in invisible friends and invisible things but for some reason he didn't believe in money whatsoever. So basically he was bankrupt and was about to be taken out of his home for not paying his taxes… but he hadn't a single clue.
Isadora pondered whether or not she should try making small talk with this strange fellow, or whether she should leave him to his 'gardening'.
She finally gathered the bravery to wave and shout, "Hello there, Mr. Eisenhower! How is the wife?"
Mr. Eisenhower glanced, took off his invisible gloves, and waved unsurely back.
"How is the Mrs.?" Isadora had to repeat herself since Mr. Eisenhower was deaf in one ear.
"Oh, her? She's doing mighty well, mighty well. She's inside this moment baking oatmeal cookies. She thinks she is the world's best dessert chef. I never told her, but honest to goodness her baking is the worst I have ever tasted. Plain nauseating. She always burns everything."
"I heard that, Bert!" Mrs. Eisenhower shouted angrily out the kitchen window as she threatened him by waving a rolling pin in midair.
"I was just kidding, sweet pea, you know that," Mr. Eisenhower remarked awkwardly.

Isadora didn't want to get in the middle of the Eisenhower family argument, so she backed out of it and retreated to her backyard where she could think in peace.
In the backyard, on another rectangle of concrete ground, Isadora lounged out on a long bench beside her Father's grill. Though the grill had never been used so it was still in tip-top shape. Probably the only thing in the Vikkson household that wasn't destroyed.
The grill had not yet been used because their Father left them three years back and had never come back. It was the day before he left that was his birthday and Mrs. Vikkson had given him the grill as a gift. But he never got to use it. When Isadora's Father left, that's when Mrs. Vikkson had taken up smoking. A dreadful habit. Probably the worst thing you can do.

Isadora pondered all sorts of thoughts in her head that seemed to weave in and out of her brain and wouldn't quit bothering her until she thought up the solutions to the problems and so on.
She stared up at the gutter with moss wound up around it. She stared over at the only colorful thing on Barringer Boulevard - a big, red and orange bouncy ball that lay next to the house.

Fifteen minutes after thinking, she went back inside and her stomach was rumbling. She was starved. "What's for dinner, Mother?" she questioned.
"It's in the microwave," murmured her Mother as she pointed in the general direction of the kitchen appliance.
Isadora trudged over to the microwave and took out a styrofoam plate wrapped in aluminum foil. She set it on the table, peeled open the foil, and took a good look at the ghastly sight in front of her. What was lying there on the plate was a mound of year-old roast beef with maggots hovering around the top and five peas scattered around it. It looked like a sad excuse for a volcano with the gloppy gravy being the lava and the peas being the village people.
"What's this?" Isadora said in a shocked sort of way as she poked at the mysterious object with her plastic fork.
"It's your personal favorite; roast beef a la cart," her Mother said with sarcasm. "And by the way, Dora, if you want a drink you can get up and get it for yourself."
Isadora hated being called Dora, but she dared not to mention it to her Mother who was already quite upset about something. She hastened to the fridge and popped out a carton of skim milk and poured herself a nice, tall glass.


After her dinner, which - by the way - she had to force down her throat in order to finish it, she cleared her plate and she finished the remainder of her homework. She just couldn't stop thinking about the rain starting and stopping so quickly. She didn't believe her Mother. Maybe her Mother was wrong and she was right. Maybe everything would be all right. Or maybe, it would not…



(* Not a true story. This story shall be continued in the sequel to come quite soon. Hope you enjoyed*)
(January 2005)

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Du Wop

By Rachel, 14, USA

I'm sorry, but what in the world does Du Wop mean? It's in 60s songs and all, but it seems pointless like it has absolutely NO meaning whatsoever. I hate it! It just confuses me!
Is it lingo for something or slang from the 60s or what?!
I am so confused about the Du Wop thing!! Help!!

~*~*Rachel*~*~
(January 2005)

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My Advice on How to Get a Guy to Notice You

By Rachel, 14, USA

Hey Hey Hey!!! Here is my advice on how to get a guy you really like to notice you:

1.) Don't try to act like someone you aren't just to impress your crush. He'd probably like you better off the way you are and not like some phony.

2.) Compliment him if you notice he got a new haircut or new clothes.

3.) Congratulate him on a good grade on a paper or Test.

4.) Make small talk - ask him what sports he's into.

5.) Don't act too girly-girly; guys hate that.

6.) Everytime he looks at you, simply smile. It'll make his day.

-Well! There you have it! My 6 simple steps to getting a guy to notice you!-

~*~Rachel~*~ ;-)
(January 2005)

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Andre the Eskimo

By Rachel, 14, USA

Andre the Eskimo clapped in joy,
for he was going fishing,
all these years he wanted to do so,
and now he could finally stop wishing.

He got on the sled and whipped the dog,
it took off like a rocket,
snow flurries flew down from the eye,
and tingled the back of his eye socket.

He dropped the line into the hole,
and sat there with intent,
he felt a tug and reeled in the line,
and to his heart's content…

A fish the size of a whale popped out,
and flopped around on the ice,
it was as slippery as some jelly,
but white as dice.

Andre was so proud of his prize,
he sat there with a smile,
this was the only fish he'd caught
in really quite a while!
(January 2005)

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The Bully

By Rachel, 14, USA

The girl was walking home from school,
with books in her hands.
A figure withdrew from the shadows,
and began to yell demands.

"Give me your money, all of it,"
And the little girl whimpered in fear.
Something formed inside her eye,
perhaps a tiny tear.

The little girl reached in her pocket,
she pulled out the money with fight,
and the big, mean bully
smiled with delight.

The bully shoved her to the ground,
and the little girl hit her arm,
a passerby saw the whole thing,
and charged toward the bully in alarm.

"You hurt that girl, you mean ol' bully,"
the passerby screamed as she chased,
the bully ran and ran and ran,
like she was running a race.

When the bully was gone and out of sight,
the passerby helped the girl to her feet,
the little girl was very grateful,
for this hero acting so sweet.
(January 2005)

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FingerPrint

By Rachel, 14, USA

Yes, I'm Detective Stacey.
I'm working on a casey.
I have my badge and case,
I have to keep my place.

No I'm not Nancy Drew.
I'm simply someone new.
I have to solve the crime,
I have to solve it on time.

There's suspicious people lurking,
in the pond waters there is murking
a dark figure who's the suspect,
how did I figure this out? Intellect.

Aha! A clue!
No, it's just a shoe.
Yay! Another clue!
I found the answer to the crime,
it's simply a bucket filled with lime!

What's this I see?
What was the crime?
I guess somebody stole the pail,
but now I found it on the trail!
(January 2005)

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Pinky Swear

By Rachel, 14, USA

I pledge allegiance to my heart,
from here again I shall not start,
to be a nuisance everywhere,
I'm won't put gum in David's hair.

I promise not to start a fight,
I promise not to cut the lights.
I swear I swear to be real sweet,
I swear I won't put spiders on Amy's feet.

I cross my heart and hope to die,
I hope I grow wings so I can fly.
I swear I won't put glue in Zach's shoes,
I'll count by threes and then by twos.

I pinky swear I'll start anew,
I'll stop being a brat and a pain, too.
I pinky swear not to cut your hair,
I'll even stop putting red ants in Daddy's underwear!
(January 2005)

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Geese & Men

By Rachel, 14, USA

If geese and men switched bodies,
the geese would do Karate.
The men would have white wings,
the geese could finally sing.
The men could fly in air,
the geese could admire their hair.
The men could float atop a lake,
the geese could drive for goodness sake!

If mice and men switched bodies,
the mice would play piano,
the men couldn't sing soprano.
The mice could pay the bills,
the men could crawl on window sills.
The mice could use manners such as "please",
the men could finally eat some cheese.

If dogs and girls switched bodies,
the girls could wag their tails,
the dogs could paint their nails.
The girls could eat bones,
the dogs could answer the phone.
The girls could fetch a stick,
the dogs could look so slick.
(January 2005)

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Two Baseball Legends

By Rachel, 14, USA

My name's Rachel. My purpose in life is to share my thoughts and feelings and tales and poems and stories with the entire world. I am not afraid to divvy out my true opinion to the world. Not one bit. Here goes the story of Splint Flint and Herbert Gerbert:

"Aw geez, Herbert, why do ya always getta go first?" whined Splint as they arrived at the barren, fruitless land where the baseball field was supposed to be.
"Fair and square, Splint. We did Rock Paper Scissors and I won and you know it, too. Don't be a liar." Herbert tossed his green bag of bats and balls into the old, abandoned dug out.
"All right, all right, you win Herbert." Splint gave in and sat down forlornly on the bench.

Herbert fetched a metallic silver bat out of the bag and stepped up to the plate. Splint adjusted the blue baseball cap, that read: NY, on his head. Splint took a mitt and a worn-out ball with some stitches missing and stepped up to the pitcher's mound.
Herbert swacked the home base several countless times with the bat, smacked loudly on his bubble gum, and chanted, "We want a pitcher, not a belly itcher!"
"Oh shut up, man! You're making me lose my concentration!" Splint yelled, quite flustered.
When Splint lifted his leg, forced it back down and tossed the ball with all his might, Herbert got a good piece of that ball and the ball went flying over their heads and over the fence. Herbert jogged triumphantly around the bases with his arms in the air.

"Gosh. First hit and he's already making Homers," grunted Splint as he watched in disbelief.
"I win! I win! I win!" Herbert screamed with merriment as he andSplint traded places so that Splint was the batter.
"Oh shush up, Herbie. The game's only yet begun." And with that, once Herbert pitched the ball, he swung his bat with all his energy and he clobbered the ball and it flew and flew and flew way, way further than Herbert had hit it. It went over rooftops, fenches, and shrubberies.

"Yaaaaaaaaaay!" Splint screeched for joy as he went around the bases and made his way back home.
"Can we take a water break, please?" Herbert requested. "I am plum beat from running all those bases."
Splint nodded in agreement and the two headed toward the dug out.

After a water break they finished up their long, tiring game and went home. Splint had victoriously won and Herbert had lost for the first time in weeks.

Next day, they continued their usual summer-day sport of baseball at the field in Highland Park.
This time, Herbert won and Splint lost.


"You boys play way too much baseball," Splint's mother remarked when Splint walked in from the game that afternoon. "You should do what other boys do during the summer; get out and make some friends down at the swimming hole."
"I have a friend already, Mother," stated Splint.
"Yes, of course, dear, but you only have that one friend of yours. Um… is Terbert his name?"
"It's Herbert, Mother. Herbert Gerbert."
"Well it's not like I would know, anyway," she stuttered as she washed a dish and put it away in the cabinet, "he only just moved in two weeks ago."
"Well I'm going to get some shut eye, Mom. I need some rest for tomorrow's game."
"No, no, no you don't," she remarked as he was ambling off to his bedroom, "tomorrow, bright and early, I want you to go down to the swimming hole and meet some other boys, Splint. No more of that… ball game. Understood?"
"But WHY Ma? WHY?" Splint demanded with fury.
"I want you to make some more friends, dear. You need more friends. You can't just have one."
With that, Splint slowly dragged his feet to his room in sheer terror of what was to become of him the next morning. If Herbert heard about this, he probably wouldn't want to be friends with him anymore. The kids at the water hole, after all, were much older kids and they spent their time bullying and teasing others to make their lives miserable as possible.


Next morn, Splint woke up to the wet feel of dog slobber all over his cheeks. "Ewe! Not again, Rover!" he yelled at his basset hound who was huddled in the corner.
He had his breakfast, put on his trunks, and headed down to the swimming hole on his newly painted bicycle.
"Well here I am," he whispered to himself, "the destination where I will most likely die." He wheeled his bike up againt an oak tree and rested it there.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't a new kid," taunted one older kid name Syches. "What brings you to this side of town, kid?" Splint looked up at him and couldn't help noticing his awfully yellow eyes and yellow teeth.
"My…my Mom says… I should get out and make… some friends," she stuttered.
"Oh is that so?" Syches teased again. "Well, come on in, kid. The water is just great." And with that Syches and his gang splashed the surface of the water with their arms to make 'plip plop' sounds.


Splint cautiously took off his jeans to reveal his orange and blue trunks. He took a plunge into the icy waters and when his head came up to the surface, he noticed five angry faces huddled around him.
"Look, kid," another guy with lots of freckles and red hair remarked in a nasty, nasty tone, "we won't do ya any harm if ya just do as we say. Kapeesh?"
"What?" Splint found himself asking.
"Just do as we tell ya, and you get away scotch free. OK?"
"Yeah, um, sure," Splint replied reluctantly.
"Good. Now the first thing we want you to do is get outta the water. You heard me. Get outta the water." So, being afraid of these mean, strong bullies, Splint did as they said immediately.
"Very, very good, kid. We're impressed," Syches took over this time. "Now, empty out your jean pockets. Give us all the money and you can get away without bruises, bumps, or sore aches."
Without question, Splint emptied his jean pockets to reveal a $20 bill and he handed it to Syches.
"Good boy, good boy. One last thing and that's all we ask."
"What…what's that?" Splint was now trembling; not only because he was scared, but because he was cold.
"Give us your bike. We want your bike. Then you can leave and you don't ever have to worry about us again. Isn't that right, boys?" And he elbowed each of the guys in the rib cage. They nodded instantly.

"OK, OK," Splint said and rolled the bike over to Syches. "There. Can I go home now, please?" And Syches nodded his head and him and his bullying friends hopped on the bike and did wheelies to show off.


Once at home, Splint dried off and phoned Herbert to tell him what had just happened. He didn't want to bother explaining to his mom because he knew she wouldn't believe him. When Splint told Herbert, he was pure speechless for fifteen minutes straight.
"You gotta be kiddin' me," Herbert was shocked.
"No lies. They took it all. My money, my new bike, and mostly… my dignity. I'm humiliated."
"Don't be," Herbert calmed him, "at least you are OK and that's all that matters. I would have given them anything to get away from punches and kicks."
"Yeah, you're right, Herbie. You're right." And Splint hung up the phone.


So Splint and Herbert continued their baseball games throughout the remainder of the summer and he never did lay eyes on Syches and his gang again.
But as the years passed by, Splint and Herbert grew apart as most friends do.

Coincidentally, they ended up on the exact same baseball team together. They played together and did so well they became Pros.
And guess what… remember Syches? Guess what happened to him… he dropped out of High School, never got a decent education, and he became the Peanut Boy at all of Splint and Herbert's Basbeball Games!!!!!

(*Moral= That's why it pays to be nice to everyone and not be a bully; someday the person you bully could turn out to be a Major League Star*)
(January 2005)

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The Adventures of Cassie & Carly

By Rachel, 14, USA

"Friends forever?" Cassie checked as her best friend in the world, Carly, was about to get in the car and drive to her new home in her new homestate.
"Friends forever," Carly smiled and she hopped into the blue minivan and the car drove off down the boulevard.

When Cassie walked into her home and shut the door, her Mother, Alexandra, looked up from a pile of Vogue Magazines. "How did it go, sweet heart? Is she doing OK?"
"Just fine, Mom," Cassie answered hastily; not wanting to have to bring up this rather depressing subject.
"OK, good, dear. Dinner'll be ready in five minutes so don't go too far." And with that her Mother looked back down at the stack of Magazines.

When Cassie was enclosed in the comforting privacy of her rectangular bedroom, she leapt onto her Queen-sized bed and weeped her eyes out. This was the first time she had to go through with watching a best friend move far, far away and she couldn't stand it one bit.

At dinner that night, Cassie wouldn't even speak a solitary word to her Mother, Father, nor her favorite aunt, Aunt Lilah.
"How did it go with Carly, darling?" Her Father, Jim, finally broke the deadly quiet.
Cassie was using her fork as a pitchfork and had stuck it into the yellow-tinted mashed potatoes to look like a haystack. "Fine."
"Were you two crying?" Her Father asked as he wiped the corner of his mouth with his orange napkin.
"No, Dad, we weren't. Can we PLEASE drop the subject now?"
"OK, dear, OK." And her Father went back to spooning pork chop slivers into his mouth.




-This concludes Part ONE of the Cassie & Carly Series. How will Cassie do with her BFF? Find out in the next adventure!!!-
(January 2005)

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Life Savers ... Literally

By Rachel, 14, USA

Sonia and Tanya were so excited about their upcoming ski trip to Sugar Mountain, North Carolina. They were going to have a blast learning to ski, cuddling up together as best friends by the blazing fireplace, and meeting some great guys perhaps on the ski lift.
It was only one day away from their drive up to North Carolina from Florida and they were so, so used to the hot weather of Florida that they were more than ready for the cold, cold weather.
Sonia and Tanya were at Sonia's house packing away all their suitcases and stuffing their luggage into the back of Sonia's Dad's pickup truck. "Thanks for all you are doing," Tanya told Sonia's Dad, "I really appreciate it."
Sonia's Dad smiled a warm smile as he helped load the last few duffel bags into the car. "Any time," he stated.

Next day bright and early, Sonya and Tanya were out on the road with Sonia's Dad and her little brother, Tony.
"Are we there yet, Dad?" Tony whined.
"Sorry, Tony, not yet. Another hour."
"But I really gotta pee, Dad. Really, really badly."
So Sonia's Dad pulled over to the nearest gas station and let Tony out to do his business in the public restroom.

When they arrived at the Ski Lodge, they signed in and checked out their Condo. It was very nice and roomy indeed and the fireplace was already on and glowing; casting happy black shadows dancing across the crimson carpet.
"Sheesh, this is nice," Tony remarked as he claimed the bed closest to the window that looked out onto the slopes.
"You betcha it is," remarked Sonia's Dad, "only the best for you three awesome kids."
With that, all three kids smiled. "Now how about something to eat, Dad? We're starved!" commented Sonia.
"Sure thing, kiddo. I'll cook us up something real tasty to eat. Tomorrow, we hit the slopes!"

Sonia and Tanya excitedly unpacked their belongings in the new room they were to share for the next four days. They unloaded their piles of clothes onto the hangers in the closet and dispensed all their soaps, shampoos, and toothpaste and brushes into the bathroom they were to share.
"No using our bathroom, Tony! You already mess up the one at home enough as it is!" Sonia was dead serious, too.
"You won't have to worry about that, sis," Tony stated merrily, "I get my own bathroom!" And with that Tony dashed off into the Living Room and flicked on the TV set.

After a dinner of roast beef sandwiches, they all fell sound asleep to the sound of the crackling fire.


Next day, Tanya woke up Sonia and Sonia woke up Tony, who woke up their father. Sonia's Dad got dressed and prepared some scrambled eggs and bacon for them all. "Gosh you kids sure like to get up early!" He said, stretching.
"Sure do, Dad. After all, we don't want to miss this glorious chance to ski on such a glorious day now do we?" Sonia said sarcastically.
"No, I 'spose not." And her Dad continued with the meal.

When they arrived at the bottom of the ski slopes, Tanya and Sonia and Tony stared up in amazement toward the top. "Oh…my…gosh," remarked Tanya, "how in the world are we supposed to get down that thing?"
"I dunno," Tony answered her before Sonia could, "but it sure looks like a heck of a challenge."

"Here are your ski lift tickets, kids. Hurry along now and get in line," Sonia's Dad came up to them and handed them their tickets. "Be sure to pin these to your jackets so you don't lose them. If you lose them, you can't go up the mountain. Got it?" And all three nodded.
"Good," continued the Dad, "I'll be back in exactly one and a half hours to pick you up. In the meanwhile I will be at the market closest to here picking up the groceries we need for the time we are here. OK?"
And they all nodded once more and off he strode.

Tanya, Sonia, and Tony hiked in their heavy boots and skis, with their poles in hand, to the lift. "Here we are, Sonia," Tanya remarked. "I never thought in a million years I would gather the bravery to do this. But here we are."

As Tanya and Sonia went up together on the ski lift with the bar securely down in front of them, they turned their heads and looked back only to see Tony was miserable because he was paired up with this crazy kid with glasses who had stuck his tongue to the pole.
"Gross," Sonia whispered, "look at that kid who's sitting with my brother." Tanya turned around and took a good look at the dweeb. Indeed he was strange.
"That's odd. I hope he isn't stuck like that. Maybe we should warn someone or go get some hot water."
"Aw don't worry about it," said Sonia calmly, "I'm sure someone is taking care of it." And Tanya nodded approvingly.


At the very tip top of Sugar Mountain, both girls and Tony too looked down the tremendously steep hill. "How are we ever going to survive this Demon Drop without breaking any bones?"
"Dunno," Tony whispered with a shiver of his body, "but I'm terrified of heights. I can't believe I ever agreed to come on this trip. I should have listening to Mom and stayed home with her in Florida."
"Oh please, you little chicken. Since when have you wanted to spend quality time with Mom? You know if she had the chance she would drag you to the Mall, buy you a Sailor's outfit, drag you to a G-rated movie, and you would die of embarassment," Sonia stated with a giggle.
"Yeah really," Tanya added, "so what would you rather? Be here skiing or home with your Mother?"
It took Tony a few minutes but then he admitted, "I guess here with you guys."

After five minutes of dead silence and watching in amazement as other skiers sped down the hill past them, Tanya finally started moving her skiis downward. "Sorry guys but we can't stay here forever. We'll die. We have to get it over with. Who knows, it may be fun." And with that she took a daring push forward and off she flew down and down and down until she was a speck in the far distance.
"Man is that chick brave!" Tony shook his head in disbelief. Then he took off after her.
"Hey! Wait for me, Tony! Don't leave me all alone up here!" And Sonia pushed forward and followed her little brother down the Demon Drop.


As she sped down and down it seemed like forever to Sonia. Tanya and Tony were no where in sight. Sonia had already knocked over a total of 8 people and counting and she did it accidentally, of course. She couldn't really control her speed or direction and she surely didn't know how to stop so she kept on speeding down and down the hill and her heart was pounding faster and faster.
So far she was regretting ever suggestion a ski vacation.
When she was at a sign that read: Halfway Mark, she was relieved. Well, sorta.

Something bad was about to happen to Sonia and she didn't even know it. It was already getting dark out and the sun was setting before her eyes. The Demon Drop was way, way longer than she had expected and her friend and brother were still nowhere in sight.
Sonia was flying down with both poles tucked snugly under her arms when she slipped over something she didn't quite see (because snow was flying into her eyse) and she tripped and when tumbling down the hill uncontrollably and she was inching closer and closer to the edge of a cliff she didn't know about.
She was right about to fly off the edge of the cliff when she quick grabbed for whatever she could grab and caught hold of a root stuck into the ground.
"HELP ME!" She cried as she looked down and noticed she was dangling off the side of a cliff. Her skiis were way too heavy to lift up so she couldn't move. She kept on calling for help. The sun had set and by now she figured all hope was lost. "HELP ME! HELP! HELP ME!" She continued to cry out desperately.


Finally, after about what seemed like a full two or three hours, someone came to her rescue. It was a Ski patrol guy about her age.
He grabbed her arms and helped force her back up and skiied with her all the way back down to ensure her safety. She was so relieved to be off that cliff edge that she was thanking God that very minute and not thinking of anything else.

When she returned down the slopes, Tanya and Tony were there with a crowd of other people (including her father) who were applauding the Ski Patrol. "Aww, it was nothing, y'all. It was nothing." And he led Sonia over to her father and said, "I think this belongs to you sir," and smiled at him and then Sonia.
The Ski Patrol was about to rush off when Sonia called to him, "Thank you so, so, so, so much! What is your name?"
The guy looked back and smiled, "Matt. I'm Matt. And you are?"
"I'm Sonia," she said as she blushed and stared toward her feet. "Thank you for saving my life, Matt."
"Well let's keep in touch," Matt smirked and tossed his phone number toward her and dashed off. This made her heart skip a beat of joy.


After that ski trip, Sonia and Matt hooked up and luckily to say skiing became addictive to Sonia and Tanya. They grew up together and, funny enough, became great, great skiiers in the Olympics. Yes, gold medalists.


**THE END**

(~~NOT a TRUE story~~)
(January 2005)

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Chocolate Sensation

By Rachel, 14, USA

A chocolate sensation is my kinda treat.
It's when you eat lotsa chocolate & don't feel obsolete.
Chocolate bunnies, hearts, and flowers.
Chocolates piled in stacks and towers.
Chocolate pushed around in carts,
Chocolate baked into tiny square tarts.
Lotsa chocolate everywhere I go.
Let there be some chocolate snow!!!
(January 2005)

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A Poll

By Rachel, 14, USA

On a hot summer day if you had spare time what would you rather do? (PLEASE reply!!!)
A.) Go swimming w/ some friends
B.) Have a lemonade stand to earn some money
C.) Go to the Movies with some friends or a BF
D.) None of the above; I like being home to relax
-Thanks for the imput all!!!-
**Rachel** ;-D
(January 2005)

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The Shoe Shiner

By Rachel, 14, USA

Kirk was his name. Shoe shining was his game. Actually, shoe shining at the airport was more of a way to earn some money rather than a fun hobby.
Kirk was rather bored with his job of shining men's shoes as they came and went at the main airport in Los Angeles, California. But he was quite thankful he at least had a job to feed the mouths of his three children. For, most men were out of jobs after 9/11.
One particular day in March when it was so hot that you could fry eggs on the sidewalk or even the hood of your car, Kirk was about to close for the day, until one final customer came rushing by.
"Sorry, I'm closing," Kirk informed the tall man with a brown mustache. He turned the sign that said "OPEN" around so it read "CLOSED."
"Please, sir. I am desperate. My wife is expecting me home soon and we're going on a date and my shoes are in terrible condition. When I was boarding the airplane from Nebraska to here, it was so rainy and muddy. My shoes got so messed up and they look all… terrible. Please, sir."
Kirk couldn't pass him down and he also needed some spare money for dinner on the way back to his apartment. "Well, all right. Real quick, though."
"Oh God bless you, sir! Bless you!" The man with the mustache, or Kipp, sat down in one of the high black leather chairs and held out his suede shoes.

Kirk snatched an old, grimy dustrag off the counter that was beside a can of paint.
He immediately got to work spraying the man's shoes and wiping away the dirt and filth.
Afterward, he remarked, "That'll be $5.00, sir."
The man, Kipp, reached into his coat pocket and pulled a leather wallet out from inside of it. He opened it up and pulled out two dollars. "Oh my gosh, I am terribly sorry, sir! I seem to have misplaced the rest of the money."
"Excuse me?" Kirk was now a bit confused and angry too.
"I… was rushing to get off the plane. It might have slipped out. Or, or, I might have bought some peanuts and a beverage aboard the plane. I am so, so, so sorry, sir!"
"Um," stated Kirk flatly, "need I remind you that peanuts and a drink are free on the plane?"
"Oopsies, I forgot that minor detail. Well, do you mind terribly?" Kirk went silent.

The man with the mustache pulled out a blank white index card and a ballpoint pen and jotted something down upon it that read: I O U.
"An I O U? I don't even know you, sir," said Kirk.
"Well you do now," replied the man named Kipp as he wrote down his full name, phone number, and address on the back of the card, "I should be going. Send me a bill. Thank you so, so much again, sir!"

As the man, Kipp, with the mustache was running off, Kirk called out through cupped hands, "Nah, wait a minute! Don't worry about it, man!" He took the index card in his hands and tore it up into shreds. "This is my early Christmas gift to you, Kipp. So, good luck with your wife!"
"Thank yoooooooooou!" Called Kipp as he dashed off.

This definitely made Kirk happy. He was glad he could do something kind for someone else for once.

(*obviously NOT a true tale*)
(January 2005)

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Prunella Pott & the Missing Kitten

By Rachel, 14, USA

"Rocket! Come here, darling Rocket! Dinner time!" Prunella Pott's aged old voice echoed throughout the enchanted old tudor home. Her new little kitten, which she had adopted from an Animal Shelter, came prancing into the tiled kitchen on tiptoes. "There you are, sweet muffin," said old Prunella as she dished the tuna into Rocket's food bowl.
Rocket consumed the food in less than five minutes. "A new record, Rocket! Will ya look at that!" Prunella danced around the kitchen with her wooden spoon raised up in her hands. "Finally!" She was so proud. Ever since she adopted Rocket two weeks ago, she had timed Rocket to see how fast he ate. She was so proud of him this time that she took a picture of him with her polaroid camera and had it instantly printed and hung on her refrigerator door.
Rocket yawned and stretched his furry orange paws on the tiled floor and quietly hurried into the Living Room where Prunella Pott was sewing under the light of an ancient lamp.
"Ooh, come sit right on Mommy's lap," Prunella patted her lap when she noticed Rocket prance into the room. Doing as he was told, Rocket leapt up onto the navy green sofa and snuggled up in Prunella's lap and he slowly closed his beady little eyes and fell sound asleep there.

Next morning bright and early, Rocket was awake and alert as usual. He sucked up all his breakfast and played a while with his new yellow cat nip toy.
Prunella was too busy preparing her own breakfast to notice Rocket wanted attention.
Rocket grew bored fast. He was an adventurous young type, not the lazy fat cat type that sauntered about the house collecting hairballs.
Since Prunella was obviously ignoring him, he decided he should roam the outside wilderness. He sneakily escaped out of the house through the cat door Prunella had built into the back door. Rocket was outside in no time at all.
As he trotted down the grassy avenue with pride of escaping the old mansion, he soon spotted something he did not want to see. Ninn. Ninn was the pit bull he was most afraid of. Ninn would tear him up in a second if he had the chance. Rocket quick hid behind a bush and peeked his fuzzy little head out and saw that Ninn was tied up to a lamp post with a chain. Lucky for Rocket.
So, Rocket took a leisurely stroll right on past Ninn's house and ignored Ninn when he was barking ferociously.

Prunella sat down to her eggs and sausage links, said her meal prayer, and noticed something unusually quiet as she was chomping into her first sausage link.
"Rocket! Oh Rocket! Come here, kitty kitty kitty!" She called. But she heard no mewing, purring, or tapping of little claws on the floors. She soon grew worried.
She searched the house from top to bottom three times and was sure by now Rocket was missing outside somewhere.
"My poor baby! All alone in this nasty, cruel world! I must go find him!" Stammered Prunella.

Rapidly, she cleaned up her dishes with a sponge and some bubbly grape-scented soap and she thrust her leather jacket on over her winter sweater.
"ROCKET!!!" She screeched as she walked down the avenue with fear of him being run over by a car. "BABY! COME HOME! MOMMY'S HERE! FOOD!!" But still there was no mewing or purring or jingling of Rocket's name tag being clanked against his metal collar.
"Oh deary me, what am I ever going to do without that…" but she paused and could have sworn she saw a little head peering out from behind a row of bushes. But she had been searching for hours and since she had an intense migraine she figured it was a mirrage and she headed on home with great disappointment.

She sat down inside her empty old home and it was now completely dark outside. The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed but she sat still in her rocking chair. She didn't eat a morsel or do her usual nighttime reading because she was so worried about her precious kitten Rocket.
But, as the hall clock tick-tocked, she heard faint scratching at the front door. She pounced to her feet and scrambled to the door to unlock it. Indeed below her at her feet stood Rocket. Rocket mewed and Prunella sighed a sigh of relief as Rocket rubbed against her loafers.
She picked the kitten up into her arms and cradled him gently as she placed him back on the wood floors and closed the door.
She scolded him and barred up the cat door with wooden planks and nails so Rocket could never escape from her again.
She prepared for him a fine feast. She made him tuna with gravy, tomato sauce, and hot dog bits. It was Rocket's absolute favorite dish that he only got to eat on special occasions.

From then on, Prunella never kept her eyes off her kitty. For, even for one minute if you are not looking after something precious of yours that is living, it could be gone in the blink of an eye. And thanks to dear old Ms. Prunella Pott, many children to this day are taking better responsibility for their pets.

(*Not True Story*)
(December 2004)

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Friends are like Stars

By Rachel, 14, USA

Friends are truly like stars.
They will come and go.
But the friends that truly shine are the friends that stay and their glow never ever fades away.
They twinkle in the night sky,
they disappear in day.
But only the truest 'stars' are the ones that really stay.
(December 2004)

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Faker Faker

By Rachel, 14, USA

Faker, faker, give-or-taker.
You are greedy and so mean.
I think you should leave the country,
or at least for the time being.
You steal and cheat and rob poor people,
you lied to the Mayor at the peak of the steeple.
You take things for granted and have an alias,
it appears as if you have been touched by an evil kiss.
Stop your lying and stop your fakes,
stop your snarling and give instead of take.
Don't be foolish, don't be filled with glut,
don't abuse the little boy with the pet mutt.
Do not ever use profanity and do not ever swear,
maybe if you were nicer, people would actually care.
(December 2004)

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Damion Checks Out

By Rachel, 14, USA

There was a poor beggar boy who found only one way he could continue living his young life. There was a Hotel in New York City he secretly snuck into each night and he slept in the Hotel basement, or storage room. This boy, Damion, was about 12 or so, and he ate food by sneaking upstairs during Dinner Hours in the Cafeteria Court and filling a satchel full of juicy fruits and luscious breads and cheeses.
This was all working just fine until one Thursday night when Damion was coming back from a walk in Central Park and a Valet caught him sneaking in through the back door. "Excuse me, sir, but you are not allowed through this door. Only those who work here are permitted in this way. You will have to leave."
But Damion was a clever 12-year-old and he had a genius trick up his sleeve indeed.
"But I do work here, sir," replied Damion in an ever innocent tone, "I am the… Sweeper Boy. I'm new here, so that's probably the reason you do not recognize me."
"Sweeper boy?" The Valet asked suspiciously. "Never heard of that job. Whatever. Just be on your way with your job. And, by George, where is your name tag? All employees, yes even the sweeper boys, MUST have name tags." Damion cracked up. This Valet guy was beginning to sound paranoid.
"Whatever. I'll go get mine. I… left it… in the Mens Room." And Damion excused himself, brushed past the Valet, and strode downstairs into his 'house.'
That might have gone swell, but the next night was worse. Damion was returning from another walk in the park, when the same Valet as the previous night stopped him short as he was entering the back door.
"Scuse me, sir," said the Valet.
"Yeeeeees?" Damion said wittily.
"The Manager would like to have a word with you… in his Office… immediately!"
"Oh? What about?" He asked with puppy eyes.
"Oh don't you pull that on me, mister." The Valet angrily shouted. "Because of YOU, I almost lost my job. Now follow me." And he led Damion into the Manager's Office. "Sir, this is the phony 'sweeper boy' I was telling you about."
A middle aged plump man with a halo of white hair around his mostly-bald head leaned forward in his chair out of the dark of the room. His dark brown eyes sparkled with revolsion and he began to twiddle his thumbs.
Then he reached out a single hand to shake Damion's, "I'm Chuck. Chuck Weisler. I own this joint. Who do ya thing you are? James Bond?"
"No, sir… I mean Chuck… why would you think that?" Damion was beginning to become nervous now.
Chuck stopped twiddling his thumbs and instead got up from his rolling chair and paced the room, "With that little stunt you pulled last night, you come across as a James Bond. You are clever, boy, but DUMB. Thanks to you, one of my workers almost lost his job. And my business can't AFFORD that right now. Where have you been hiding this whole time, kid?"
"Um, whaddya mean, Chuck?" Asked Damion, with a lump the size of a golf ball in his throat.
"If ya tell me the absolute truth, kid, I'll go easy on ya. I'll ask ya one more time and one only. Where… have you been hiding this entire time, eh?"
"Well….." Damion knew he had to confess, "the basement, sir. I have no money and when my parents died, none of my relatives would take me in. Instead, my evil great Aunt Janice sent me to an Orphanage here in Manhattan and I HATE Orphanages! So I escaped and came to live here, since I knew there was a warm shelter and food."
"Again, very intelligent of you, kid, but also very STUPID. For what you did, I have no choice but to send ya back to the Orphanage."
"FINE, but I'll just escape again! No one can make me stay there! Do you know what they do to kids there, sir?"
"Kid, this world is a nasty place and ya just gotta get used to it. Ya hea?" Chuck plopped down on his leather chair with finality and gestured for Damion to leave his office instantaneously.
"But I… oh PLEASE don't make me go, Chuck. PLEASE!"
"Kid, it's either the Orphanage or Jail. You're just lucky I'm not turning you in to the Cops for that little crime you just committed, ya little delinquent. So skidattle." But Damion just stood there, angrily staring at the Manager. But Chuck wouldn't take this. He pressed a big red button on his desk adjacent to his coffee mug and in charged two security guards. They took hold of Damion's arms and dragged him out of the office.
"Noooooooooooooooo!" Screamed Damion, half in tears, as he was shoved into a police car and driven to the Orphanage.

When he arrived there, familiar old women greeted him at the front door with open arms. "Oh sweetie pie, cookie, muffin, pumpkin, we missed you so!" Said the southern accented black woman as she reached forward to kiss his cheek.
"Ewe! Gross!" Stammered Damion in definace. "I don't want to be here! I don't want to be adopted! I just want to be alone!"
"Heavens, Hon, why would you want that?" Asked the other old lady from Tennessee.
"I HATE this place! I HATE the food! I HATE the families that come in here! I HATE it all! I just want my REAL parents back!" Whined Damion as he pounded his fists on the front desk with tears rolling down his pale cheeks.
"I think Damion needs a nap and some milk and Tylenol," whispered one lady to the other, "he's a little grumpy." And the other ladies laughed heartily. "Come along now, deary, let's get you some milk and Tylenol to rid of your head ache. And then, let's take a wittle nappy time. K?" They said in baby words; as if Damion couldn't understand them.
"NO! LEAVE ME ALONE!" And with that Damion took off running out of the Orphanage and down the lengthy street. He didn't care if it was raining. Heck, he didn't even care if he had to sleep in Central Park under the trees. All he wanted to do was get away from the crazy Orphanage women who pinched his cheeks and treated him like a baby.
The women at the Orphanage were frantic; running around with their hands flailing in the air above them. One called the Police. The other fainted on the tiled floor. The other was clueless so she sat down and watched Wheel of Fortune.
Damion reached Central Park just in the nick of time and he rested beneath a huge weeping willow tree. He was starting to get real hungry, so he reached into his satchel and pulled out a shiny red apple. He chomped into it and before long he heard sirens. The sirens' wailing grew closer and more intense. Damion knew it was the Police coming to look for him. He grabbed his satchel, chucked the apple core at a tree, and dashed away. He hid in a bush until the Police men passed and then came out of hiding.
What he didn't know was that there was another Cop hiding behind a tree. The Cop came running at Damion, snatched him, hand-cuffed him, and dragged him back to the Orphanage in his dirty, old Cop Car.
"This isn't fair, mister Cop, and you can't treat me like this. I don't WANT to go back there. Can't you see? Why can't anyone SEE?" Damion demanded with intense emotion.
"Kid, my duty isn't to please you. It's to… arrest people… so back off. My job's already stressful enough as it is." And with that the ugly, old Cop scratched his dark stubble and hopped back in his Police Car and rode away.
Inside the Orphanage, a fire in the hearth was crackling and children were no where to be seen. It was 7:00 PM. That meant bedtime. That was another thing that stunk at the Orphanage. They had super early bedtimes.
Damion cried himself to sleep, knowing no matter how many times he ran away, he would always be caught. He knew it was better to just surrender already and live with being an Orphan boy of New York.

However, one sunshiny Saturday (adoption day) many parents came to look for the perfect child. There were large parents, skinny parents, old parents, young parents, odd parents, perfect parents, rich parents, poor parents, and on and on. As the day went by, most of the younger kids were adopted and only Damion and five other boys and 3 other girls his age were left without parents. Damion was starting to give up hope again… until the last family of the day stepped in.
The two parents were fairly tall with bright red hair and welcoming green eyes and they greeted each child with a warm smile and handshake and asked each child to tell them about themselves. To them, none seemed as delightful as Damion himself. Finally, there was a light at the end of the tunnel.
The two parents, Fred and Lynn Anchler, adopted Damion and Damion was glad all this patience paid off. He loved his family indeed and this beat living in a Hotel cellar any time.

Along with his parents, Damion found out he had an older brother and a baby sister; John and Carly. He got along with both of them so well and he even got a puppy as a present that Christmas. He was so happy and even though he missed his real parents, this family was just as good and he was more than content.

(*Not a true story*)

Moral of Story= It pays to be patient.
(December 2004)

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Bloodthirsty Beast

By Rachel, 14, USA

A cruel, heartless beast.
Roamed the haunted woods.
One day as I was hiking,
there the beast stood.
It glared at me with bloody eyes,
and snarled and revealed its fangs,
as I was about to scream my head off,
I heard a round of real loud 'BANGS'.
A hunter with his rifle,
came to my recue,
and with his rifle in his gun,
he managed to make the beast shoo.
I thanked the man so gratefully,
and he went on his way,
I never did see that hunter man,
again after that day.
(December 2004)

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A Kiss of Evil

By Rachel, 14, USA

As I was strolling down the block,
a bolt of lightning flashed.
A thought popped into my mind,
and anger began to thrash.
I figured since it was a gloomy day,
no one would be out.
So I graffitied the subways and alley walls,
getting in trouble was one doubt.
Something came over me that I cannot explain,
it all happened in the damp, misty rain.
The thunder roared and the lightning shined,
at that very moment I was losing my mind.
Evil overtook my body and my hand began to shake,
it felt like I was caught in the middle of a very large earthquake.
I was about to make a very huge mistake,
I pulled a gun from out of my pocket and again I began to shake.
I really didn't want to do what I was about to do,
but evil overcame me, so what was there to do?
I sped on down the alleyway with the gun in my grasp,
what I almost did next nearly made the Angels gasp.
Outside an apartment was standing an old lady,
she looked really six and at least eighty.
I approached her with an evil smirk pasted on my face,
there was nothing but air in that cold, abandoned place.
She stood there, helpless, staring back,
she stood holding up a little sack.
I took the gun and pointed straight,
what I was becoming was a demon of hate.
The lightning flicked and the thunder boomed,
this woman's life was to be over soon.
But I just couldn't do it, I couldn't kill the lady,
no I wasn't really evil, I was just a tad bit crazy.
I dropped the gun down to the road,
and away from me she speedily strode.
I fell down with disbelief,
I had almost killed a woman on Christmas Eve.
But at least the evil demon left my soul,
and disappeared my heart's hole.
My Christmas gift that very night,
was turning a Christian and seeking the light.


(*of course this was not true about me. It was about a bad teenage delinquent boy who was a member of a gang who was overcome by an 'evil demon' that made him turn evil. But his inner good overcame the evil and he becomes a Christian and follows the ways of Christ*)
(December 2004)

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Moving On

By Rachel, 14, USA

My mother and I lived in an apartment building in New York City. We were constantly surrounded by people of different cultures, colors, and beliefs. Some people were really neat with their outfits and styles of walking, while others were the scary type you would find in dark alleyways at midnight when only a sliver of the metallic moon was beaming down from above through the haze.
My mother, Joetta, suggested one day after I returned from school that we move away from the hectic city life and go somewhere more… peaceful. So we did.
The next month, we had packed all our belongings and were moved into our new home in the suburbs in South Carolina. Nice and peaceful.
I made about two friends the first day we moved into the large white house with the wide front porch. Their names were Becca and Erin. Nice girls. Both 11, like me, and both went to the same school as I had started. They introduced me to their friends and showed me around the town so I could feel at home and welcome. I did.
I was glad my mother suggested a change. That's the one thing we desperately needed ever since my father died three years ago. We just needed to leave those sad memories of him behind and move on to something more cheerful.
A couple weeks after the move, I was at the grocery store. I was on an errand picking up some groceries for my mother. When I strolled up to the cash register, I said hello to the cashier guy. He simply nodded and rang up the few items I placed on the counter. I tried to start friendly conversation, but he said nothing the entire time.
"What's wrong with that man?" I asked another cashier as I was leaving.
"Oh him? He's a mute. He can hear what people say, but he can't talk. He was in a fire once and he hasn't been able to talk since. Poor old man." I felt dreadful for the old man. It must have been torture to be able to hear but not answer. I later found out he had to write everything he was thinking down on paper.

Weeks continued to fly by, and I learned the man's name was Phil. I kept coming to the same grocery store and soon we became good friends and I needed him and he needed me. It was like we were two support beams that held up a boardwalk.
Sooner and sooner, my mother and I invited Phil over for an occasional dinner of tacos and whatnot. However, he seemed to grow sicker and weaker as older men tended to do and one day he died. We were devastated. We went to his funeral and placed roses and a box of chocolates on his casket, and to this day we will never ever forget Phil and the great things he did for the world.

(not a true story)

*Even if you do have a problem, cancer, cripple, or you are deaf or a mute, that doesn't mean you are any different or lower or worse than the rest of us. In God's eyes everyone is equal and that's exactly how it should be. Just keep that in mind.*
(December 2004)

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Spin the Dreidel, Dad

By Rachel, 14, USA

I was a Christian girl way back when. As I look back on my young life now as an elder woman, I figure all those things such as clothing and my home I took for granted. I had a friend back then, for instance, named Mary Grace and her family was Jewish. They had strong beliefs and celebrated Hannukah, where they would eat a grand feast, light the candles on thir windowframe, or play the Dreidel game. Yet, Mary Grace's family was mighty poor and I was constantly complaining about how my home and clothes were not good enough. I think back now and remember how she never complained once and didn't even have half as much as we did. My name is Catherine and I am about to tell you a story that happened a long time ago…

"Catherine, Catherine, think fast!" I looked up from reading another novel I had checked out from the library and saw a football soaring toward me. I quickly dropped the book to the brick steps and caught the ball - right before it hit me smack dab in the face. "Good catch, Catherine!" Johnny, my older brother, yelled through cupped hands.
I tossed the football back at him and continued reading the novel. "Catherine, dear, your friend is coming over. She said she has to tell you some very important news." My Mother called through the kitchen window. I nodded in agreement, brought the book inside, and waited on the front stoop outside the front door for Mary Grace to arrive.
I saw her walking up the street toward me with a tearstained face as red as a cherry. She looked terribly sad about something. When she finally reached me, I inquired, "Is something the matter, Mary Grace?"
"We have to move," she said, biting her lip to await my reaction.
I jumped back in a startled way, "What? Why? Why now? I was just getting to know you!"
"I know. It's my Father's job. I can't help it. But we can write each other."
(December 2004)

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What's New About Me, Rachel

By Rachel, 14, USA

I am Rachel and I'm still 14. Yep. What's new about me is pretty much nothing. Well, my grades I'd say are fair. I still ADORE writing and Karate and HATE Social Studies and Science. What else is new!?!
I still have a dog. I still have a fish. I still want a kitten for Christmas of this year.
I have a laptop. I'm, apparently, a very famous and well-known author on this site. (I have published many of my writings on this site & I have many more still to share) I am in the 8th grade and I absolutely love tennis as well as bowling and sometimes swimming. LALALA! Bored.
Um, I still have three best friends. Lea. Taylor. And Jenna. Yeah. My other friends were mean enough to abandon me. Cruel.
I have to go because it's my bedtime. (10:00 PM) Lol! Don't ask! It's a family thing!
Cya! Thanks to all you fans of mine out there! Luv ya!

~~Rachel~~ ;D
(December 2004)

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Flaming Red & Maiden Mary Anne

By Rachel, 14, USA

I was sauntering through the gardens of the Platinum Plantanium Hotel when I looked up and saw this old man with a cane seated on a cement bench, looking up at a water fountain. I thought it would be polite to introduce myself. So I did just that. "Hello, sir. Good day, isn't it?"
"Quite." He answered without looking at me.
"My name is Arlene. What's yours?"
"I'm Quincy." He replied. "Quincy Macintosh. Nice to meet you." He looked at me, finally, and shook my hand.
"Nice to meet you too, sir." I smiled.
"You may sit beside me if you'd like," he remarked, patting the open space beside him.
"All right," I nodded my head and sat myself down.
"Would you like to hear a story, Arlene?" I noddded. "It's the story of Flaming Red."
"Flaming who?"
"Flaming Red," he responded with a point of the finger.
"Oh." I stated flatly. "What's it about?"
And so he began the story…..

"Along time ago, there was a young maiden girl, Mary Anne, who worked at a castle and did chores for the Prince. His name was Edward and he had the brightest red hair in his entire kingdom. She was deeply in love with the Prince and the Prince did not know of it. He barely even knew she existed. All he knew was she was the servant girl. One day, she was tending to milking the cows when the Prince rode up on horseback and smiled at her. 'Your name is Mary Anne, is it not?' he requested. Mary Anne nodded. 'Would you like to take a ride with me?' Mary Anne nodded. But she was curious why the Prince had asked her. So, together, they went riding alone through prairies and meadows and open fields with swaying wheatgrass until they came to a glistening stream.
'What a gorgeous stream!' Exclaimed Mary Anne. The Prince nodded in agreement and took her hand in his. 'I barely even know you, with all respect, your grace,' she said, taking her hand out of his.
'It may seem that way, but I've always had an eye on you. The moment I first saw you, you were beautiful. I still think you are, Mary Anne. I have always loved you. Don't think it's just women who get nervous around men. It goes the other way around too.' Mary Anne laughed and the Prince laughed as well. Then she placed her hand back in his.
'This is sort of embarassing, but I've always secretly liked you too.' But she knew it was more than just liking him. She loved him. She just didn't quite have the gut to tell him.
'Really? Is that so?' Asked the Prince. She nodded and beamed and brushed a piece of her hair out of her face.
The Prince leaned forward and kissed her. It was a magical kiss. Five months later, the two were married and a year later they had a child named Becca. THE END."

I clapped and grinned and I thought Quincy's story was quite amusing. "Marvelous!" I applauded. "Absolutely marvelous! So where did you come up with this story?"
"Come up with it?" Quincy said, quite startled. "Who said anything about making it up, child? It's a true story!"
"How is it a true story? And how would you know that? That story sounds like it took place back in midieval times, with all that talk of Princes and Princesses."
"Well," Quincy cocked his head to one side and finished his sentence, "I'd know because Becca grew up, had kids, her kids had kids, and on and on until my parents. So basically, Prince Edward and Princess Mary Anne were my great great great great great… super great grandparents."
I was in awe. My jaw dropped and my eyes widened. "But that would mean you are… royalty." I stepped back and took a bow, quite ashamed I hadn't done so earlier. He grinned once again.
"Yessiree," he replied. "I have it in my blood."

-And that was the tale of Flaming Red & Maiden Mary Anne.-
(December 2004)

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$ The Fun, Fun Bribe $

By Rachel, 14, USA

My name is Rebecca. My younger brother, Dwayne, is a bit absent-minded. He thinks the world is flat and it's going to come to an end the moment there's an earthquake. I suppose you could say he's ... 'special.'
I'm about to inform you of a mighty short tale that really happened to Dwayne about two and a half years ago.
-. Dwayne was 6 and a half and he was in his bedroom looking at a piece of pencil lead under his microscope. Strange. Anyways, I knocked on his door because I wanted to borrow one of his many pairs of roller blades. He didn't answer the first time so I knocked again and he opened the door, but he didn't look too pleased to see me standing in his doorway.
"Whaddya want? Can't ya see I'm busy?" He demanded.
"Can I borrow a pair of your roller skates? Like… the purple ones maybe?"
"You can have 'em," he chucked the roller skates at me, "now just leave me alone." And he slammed the door. He must have been working on something much more important than a piece of lead.
"Mom, Dwayne's up to something," I said as I entered the Living Room and I saw my Mother reading a magazine on the couch.
"Why would you think that, Hon?" Asked my Mom.
"Well, I asked for a pair of rollerblades. He chucked them at me. He even said I could 'have' them. He NEVER lets me keep any of his stuff. That's why I think he's up to something."
"Uhuh," Mom mumbled, not looking up from her magazine.
"But Mom! Something's up with him! Maybe he's sick!" I begged for her attention. That got my Mom to look up from the magazine and then she looked back down again as she licked her pointer finger and turned the page.
"Well I'll have a talk with him when I'm finished reading this article," she responded, "it's actually quite fascinating you know. I mean… who knew that caverns were so interesting!" I could tell she was too into her magazine to even know or care (for that matter) what I was talking about.

That night after Mom finished her magazine and we all finished supper, Dwayne was getting up to leave the Dining Room but Mother stopped him. Good, this proved she was actually listening to what I was saying earlier.
"Dwayne, can you hold on a sec? We need to talk." Mom didn't even wait for his answer, she just took his arm and forced him back into his chair.
"Wha…what'd I do, Ma? I swear I studied for that Social Studies Test. I'm sorry I got a D- but I'll try much, much…."
"Save your breath, Dwayne, that's not what Mom wants to talk to you about." I informed him with a giggle. He stuck his tongue angrily out at me.
"Can we please be alone, Rebecca? I need to talk with your brother in private."
"My pleasure!" I said, leaving the room with more giggles.
Dwayne stomped a foot, "I didn't do anything, Mom! Why am I in trouble?"
"I never said you were in trouble, Dwayne, I just said we needed to talk. Rebecca and I feel you spend too much time in your bedroom. You need to get out and exercise and 'hang' with your friends… or whatever it is you kids do these days." Mom patted him on the back. "Listen, bud, I know it's gotta be hard at school. I'll admit I was never a genius either. But you gotta stick with it and try your absolute best. All right?" Dwayne simply nodded and twiddled his thumbs.
"I don't… have any friends though," he said, half in tears.
Mom rubbed his head, "Aww, it's all right, Dwayne. Say, I thought that Daniel boy was your friend."
"He moved." Dwayne cried.
"How about Rodney? Rodney Smithers?"
"I think he died," Dwayne snapped back.
"DIED?!" Mom was flabbergasted.
"Well ... m ... maybe," Dwayne's voice was quivering as he tried to hold back his tears.
"To make you feel better, I got you an early Birthday present," Mom said and went to the closet, opened it, and pulled something that was wrapped out from the top shelf. "Here, Dwayne, go ahead and open it."
Dwayne smiled and forced his tears away as he ripped off the metallic silver wrapping paper and he screamed with delight. "The new Science Experiments Kit! Gee, Mom, thanks a bunch! I'll bet ya $50 dollars the kids'll be jealous of me!" Dwayne hugged his Mother.

Dwayne ran up to his room with the box and I could only imagine he was tearing off the cover and playing right away without any further delay with his new microscope, set of slides, tweezers, and whatever else kind of rip off junk came with it.
I was leaning against the Dining Room door and it squeaked and I gasped slightly. I heard Mom chuckle inside the Dining Room, "I knew you were there the entire time, Rebecca. I guess you got my eavesdropping genes. You can come on out from hiding now." I came in, laughing my head off, and we sat together at the Dining Room table discussing random things like how bribery somehow worked like 'magic' in getting my brother to do things our way.
One thing, for instance, that we discussed was how pathetic it was that Dwayne would do anything (even clean the bathrooms) for one measley Chocolate Deluxe Bar. Pretty dumb, huh?
Once I even tested him to see if he'd do my homework for a tiny bag of Runts. And guess what… he did! I know it's not right to take advantage of someone's weakness… but it 'is' sort of fun, you must admit.

(*NOT A TRUE STORY*)
(November 2004)

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The Irishman on Adbigg Avenue

By Rachel, 14, USA

I was bored out of my mind Sunday afternoon. The sun was baking hot and the air conditioning in my house was broken. I would do anything to cool myself off. My mother suggested I go for a dip in the neighborhood pool. But I wouldn't dare go in those nasty, murky waters. The pool in my neighborhood was disgusting. It was filled with leaves and pinestraw and pinecones and dead bugs all because we didn't have a lifeguard and no soul was brave enough to fish any of that sick stuff out.
Dad suggested I hose myself off, or make some lemonade and drink some while selling the rest because he said I might as well be making money while I'm relaxing. But we were in the middle of a drought in Arizona so I didn't think it was too grand of an idea to disobey the government warning. And I was much too lazy to make any lemonade… even if I was quite thirsty.
My older brother, Brandon, suggested I buy a fan and fan myself off for hours or take a mighty long shower with freezing cold water. None of these ideas seemed to please me.
So I decided not to waste my the remainder of my precious weekend moping around the house, and instead I went out for a walk down town. As I was strolling further down the avenue, I spotted a funny looking midget man in a green vest with striped green stockings and pointy ears dancing around the rim of the huge fountain in the town square. I ended up joining the crowd who was surrounded around him and I watchedm giggling, as the man did a silly jig and clicked his heels.
After his performance ended, I was sad, but I tossed a five dollar bill in the hat he had turned upside down at his feet. I smiled at him and thanked him for the entertainment and he took a bow and told me he was about to put on another show. I was too excited to leave, so I stayed. Some of the crowd that was there in the start were still there, while the rest wandered off to browse in the cute little shops around the village square.
During his next performance, the man did magic tricks with a bunny, multi colored hankerchief, sawing a volunteer from the crowd in half, and making another volunteer disappear before our eyes.
I was absolutely stunned when he asked me to be a volunteer for the next trick. "What do I have to do, sir?" I asked him.
He responded, "All you have to do is stand here," and he pointed to a miniature stage, "and I'll pull coins and eggs out of your ear. Got it?"
"Got it!" I shouted with joy. I was the kind who didn't have stage fright at all, so I was proud to get this once-in-a-lifetime oppurtunity. I did as he said and stood there, grinning but still motionless, as he pretended to pull eggs and coins and scarves out of my ears. He was pretty funny, I had to admit.
So when the show had ended, he said that was his final performance and that made me sad. I put another five dollar bill in his hat and he was very, very grateful. "Thank you so much, miss. I finally have enough to buy myself a real meal." He rubbed his stomach and let out a hearty chuckle.
I was puzzled, "Finally? Have you not eaten food in a while?" It wasn't exactly my place to ask him that, but as I concerned citizen I felt the need to.
"Well," he admitted with a sad expression, "not exactly. See… this is my job and it's a good fun job, kid, don't get me wrong, but it's not too well paying all the time. It's not like a real, steady job where you know exactly how much you're going to get paid after a full days work. See, at this job, you never know how much you're going to earn and or if you're going to earn enough to keep a roof over your head, feed yourself, or buy new clothes. See, it's difficult."
"Are you from Ireland?" I asked. I figured he was by the way he danced and dressed and by his accent, but you could never be too sure.
"Is it that obvious?" He and I laughed.
"Sort of," I said with another giggle as I once again examined his very green ensemble. "Why can't you just fill out a resume and get a real job?" I asked him.
"It's not that easy, kid, I've tried. Believe me I have. But each time I get rejected or fired. It stinks."
"It must! I can only imagine! Say, my dad is a business man and he's looking for a business partner. Perhaps you could work for him if you'd like."
"Really? You'd do that for me?"
"Yes… after all, it is what God would want. So come on with me and I'll introduce you to my family."

…So that day, I learned a very important lesson… to always be kind to strangers and someday they may just pay you a favor back…

(*Not a true story*)
(November 2004)

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Honeysuckle

By Rachel, 14, USA

Have you ever experienced the joys of something so simple; such as a honeysuckle?
Have you ever plucked the bottom of the honeysuckle out and drank the sweet nectar?
Have you ever wanted to do something wild and daring… but then changed your mind because it was too risky?
Have you ever dreamed such a dream that came true?
Have you ever climbed the tallest mountain?

Have you ever swam across the longest ocean?
Have you ever written a best-selling novel?
Have you ever wondered how just one person (being God) created such a big universe?
Well I don't know about you… but I haven't done all of the above. Yet, I have wondered about how just one person (being God) created our world.
After all, don't YOU sometimes just wonder?

Well, my friends, something as simple as a honeysuckle can change a person's mind and soul.
It sure changed mine.
I was at a Summer Camp one summer and there were some not-so-good people I was hanging around. Now don't ask why I was around them, I guess I just was because my best friend Sammi was, so I thought they'd be decent people.
Sure enough, one day, they dared me to spray paint some of the cabin's at midnight and trash some cabins and dumb pollution in the lake and all this bad stuff like that.
At first I said yes… (and this was during the day)… but then as I was later playing tag with Sammi in one of the flower meadows, I came across a beautiful honeysuckle.
I plucked it, held it gently in the palm of my hand, and I sniffed it once and then ate the sweet, golden nectar.

That's what changed my mind. I figured I was like a honeysuckle. I started out just so sweet and tender. But if I did what these nasty, cruel girls wanted me to do by trashing the campsite, I'd be like a honeysuckle during a rough winter storm and I'd either collapse, wilt, or turn black and fade away into nothing. I didn't want to be a nothing, a nobody.
So I went back to those girls and said "No way!" And later I told on them and they got in trouble. They were angry at me and Sammi, but that didn't matter.
I know now that I would have totally ruined myself if I had agreed to doing as they said.
So don't you make the same mistake….


(*NOT A TRUE STORY… JUST A TALE TO TEACH AN IMPORTANT LESSON*)
(November 2004)

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We are the Hope of the Future

By Rachel, 14, USA

We, the kids of America, are the hope of the future.
The adults and elderly are relying on us.
We are the ones who will vote.
We are the ones who may (sad as it is) choose to take drugs.
We are the ones who may makes mistakes.
We are the ones whom the little children look up to.
We are strong.
We are reliable.
We are… the Kids of the Future!
(November 2004)

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The Gum Drop Castle

By Rachel, 14, USA

Well I was out on a walk, when this bright light flashed from the sky. It was such a beautiful sight! An Angel floated down from the Heaven above me, she picked me up by my arms… and she flew me up through the cotton candy clouds to her mystical kingdom above the world.
When we arrived at a humungous golden gate, she blurted a password and the gates open wide. So we stepped on into the kingdom and the first thing I saw was a river of ginge rale and mountain of pink marshmallows.
She led me to a castle atop a grand hill of sour apple sourstraws.
On the hill and inside the gumdrop castle were two thrones. Sitting on one throne was whom the Angel called Princess Peanutbrittle. On the larger throne sat a quiet displeased-looking man who I later found out was King Peppermint Patty.
I asked the King what was the matter and he just groaned and slouched down even further into his chair, now more upset then earlier.
"He has always been this grouchy," the Angel later explained to me, "he's never quite been the same since his wife, Queen Skittles, died a year and a half ago."
Now I understood. I had to do something to cheer him up. That was why I was brought there. That was my mission.
So I fell asleep later on my cotton candy cloud bed as soft as lying on a stick of butter and I awoke to the chirping of bird's made out of licorice whips.
I arose and rubbed my eyes and I went to wash myself but I found out there wasn't any real water there, there was only a river of gingerale, a lake of apple juice, a fountain of orange soda pop, and an ocean of vanilla ice cream. This disappointed me. "What about the water? Where is the water?" I asked the Angel who was sipping from the fountain of orange soda pop.
She rubbed the orange stain off the side of her mouth, "What's this water you speak of?"
"Never mind," I said with disappointment, "I have a duty to attend to. I must cheer up King Peppermint Patty!" So I stormed off in search of something that would cheer him up.

"But we've tried everything, little girl," the Angel cried, "and nothing has worked."
"Well let me just try my luck at it," I pleaded and the Angel nodded. At least I'd give it my best shot.
So I went wandering around on a scooter made of gumballs and I discovered a meadow of flowers… yes! Real flowers! Finally something real! So I picked a bundle of bright red pansies and a bundle of daisies and even a handful of pretty white roses and trotted to the King's Castle and handed him the beautiful boquet. He took them, stared at them, and tossed them aside and groaned a deep groan. He then rested his chin in his palm as if to say "This is hopeless."
But, no, I was not going to give up just yet! I headed back toward the flower meadow when I spotted something even better… a tub of books! Yes! Real reading books! Everyone likes to read!
So I carried the books to the King, but still he rejected the gift and the Angel told me once more that no matter how hard I tried I could never cheer up the King.

I finally thought of something. Maybe it wasn't a material thing he had longer for, maybe it was just love he needed. And his daughter certainly didn't seem like the kind of girl who was loving. So I skipped to the Gum Drop Castle and I hugged the King, right then and there. He blushed and the Princess gasped to see what her father's next reaction might be. Then the when I finished hugging him, the King hugged me right back with a big smile. I had accomplished what I came for.

But then, something was shoving me and calling out my name… something was… I was awaken in my bedroom in my bed by my Mother. I must have been delirious. She soothed me as I was tossing and turning and I awoke figuring out I had just had the best dream ever! (November 2004)

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Tom the Turkey

By Rachel, 14, USA

Tom the Turkey was in a trance.
His tranquility was slowly turning into tragedy.
Tom turned so his turtleneck was tighter.
Tom stood up and trotted out of the Thai Restaurant.
There is no point to this Tom the Turkey tale.
I think you could say I was terribly bored.
"Tell me the tale of the terrible tooth," Tom pleaded to
his Mother, Tina, as she rocked back and forth in her
old rocking chair.
"But it's terribly late timing, Tom," she teased with a
titter.
"Please, Mother, I must hear the tooth tale," Tom whined.
"Well, all right, Tom dear," his Mother tickled him.
As she told him the terribly lengthy tale, he turned
about on the couch, feeling terribly hungry for a tomato.
"May I go get a tomato?" He questioned.
Tina the Turkey nodded. So Tom strode into the tiny
kitchen to fetch the tomato. He touched it and turned it
about in his feathered hand and trotted back into the
Living Room.
"May I continue the tooth tale?" Teased his Mother Tina.
He nodded with a teeny grin.

--THE END--
(November 2004)

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The Decision - My Decision

By Rachel, 14, USA

One day I was faced with a decision I never thought in my wildest dreams I would have to face. Smoking.
I was at a High School football game and my friend came walking up to me with a group of kids I hadn't seen around before. (Most likely because our school was so huge!)
I smiled, at the moment not knowing what was going on, and introduced myself to her 'new friends.' At first I sensed nothing to be wrong or bad or anything, so we sat down in the stands to watch the remainder of the game. But then one of my friend's friends, Adrianna, suggested we get up to stretch. She then told us to follow her. So I did, thinking we were just going to get ourselves a pretzel, a coke, or even a hot chocolate since it was so darn freezing.

But we walked further and further under the stands and we got to a dark place underneath the stands where no one could see us. "Um, what are we doing here?" I finally asked since no one else would break the uneasy silence.
Adrianna pulled something out of her purse and handed it to her friends along with my friend. I couldn't really see what it was since I was so darn dark out.
But then she stepped a little further into the light. She handed me a… cigarette. It was terrible. Yes, a cigarette.
I forced it right back into her arms. "No, I'm not going to smoke," I said with courage and forcefullness.
"Jeez," Adrianna had responded, "what are you? Chicken?" Her and her friends began to make clucking noises. That didn't bother me though. What really bothered me was that my own friend accepted the cigarette and hadn't turned it down.
"Come on, let's get out of here, Carla," I had suggested as I took her arm. But she shoved me away.
"Listen, Rachel, you aren't my mother. I already have one and I don't need two. So just leave me alone."
"Smoking is so bad for you! It's like killing yourself! Come on, Carla, you don't really want to do this do you?"
She paused and then scowled at me, "Of course I do and you can't stop me and you can't tell my parents. I am allowed to do whatever I want to do. And you're such a loser for not smoking."

I immediately walked away and of course I told her Mom. She was punished and permanently angry at me for life but that didn't matter. All that mattered was that I saved her life. I mean, in school and stuff, we would get these lectures from our guidance counserlors about what to say if we were put in that spot, but I never ever imagined I really would be. Who knew. I was wrong. Way wrong.
But all that matters is I saved my old friend's life.

Do you have a friend or a loved one you know is seriously in danger and their life is being threatened? Then you need to do something about it. Now. Don't wait 'till the 14th of never. Get out there and save a life. Even if it's risking yours.

--Take it from someone who knows--
(October 2004)

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Draculina - the tale of Dracula's daughter

By Rachel, 14, USA

Draculina was often to be found in her bedroom chambers in the highest tower of her father, Dracula's, kingdom. She was mostly combing out her dreadfully tangled hair, doing her homework, or tormenting her pet bat, Bootsy.
Draculina wasn't exactly the nicest little Vampire on her block. There were the nice little Vampire girls named Beatrice, Donna Jo, and of course the 'perfect Vampire child' Angelina.
Draculina was jealous of these girls and their talents. Yet she hated them because they just always had to be so 'perfect' and 'prissy' and 'pretty.' Those were the 3 p's about the girls she disliked the most.
One day when Draculina was untangling her knots, Dracula her father interrupted and said that Angelina wanted to know if she could come out to play hopscotch with her and the other girls. But Draculina said "No way" and Angelina and the girls were disappointed but they understood.
The next day and even the next, Angelina would come over to try to invite Draculina over. But she would always say "No" and leave it at that.

But that changed the following Thursday, a very bright, warm, sunny day. That kind of weather was very rare in Vampirtown and whenever there were sunny days, they were taken advantage of. That day, Angelina and Donna Jo (Beatrice was sick that day) came over to try one more time to see if Draculina could play.
Unfortuanately, Draculina had homework. "But I'll tell you what," she told the two girls, "I'll come and play once I'm through with this homework as long as… we play things my way."
At first, the two girls thought nothing of it so they shook their heads in agreement. But then they figured that could be a bad thing. It was too late though, they had already agreed to it. So Draculina rushed through her homework and she zoomed outdoors to greet the girls once again.

"We are so glad you could finally join us," Donna Jo suggested with a curtsy and a grin. Draculina just pushed her way past the girls and cackled.
"I say we play bob for apples first," she laughed in a horrifying manner.
"Um, all right, that seems harmless enough," Angelina agreed in her usual, perfect high-pitched voice.
So Draculina set up the game and blindfolded the two girls and spun them around faster and faster. Then she pushed Angelina (first, of course) in the direction of the cauldron filled to the brim with her 'mysterious brew' and Angelina discovered it with her hands and dunked her head into the gushy, mushy, slimy goo. "Ewe! What is this stuff?" Angelina said, coming up for air.
"You'd be surprised," responded Draculina, "it's my pet bat, Bootsy's, business."
"HER WHAT?!?!?!" Angelina ripped off the blindfold and stormed down the street to her house. (Most likely to tattle on Draculina) But Draculina didn't care.
"Um, I think I have to go now," Donna Jo gagged as she ripped off her own blindfold and chased after Angelina.

Draculina threw her head back in amusement and laughed as hard as she could. "That teaches you to mess with the daughter of a Vampire!" She called after them, still laughing.

~~The End~~
(October 2004)

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Snap, Bubble, Pop

By Rachel, , USA

Snap, bubble, pop.
A taste that will never stop.
Flip the lid and sip back on your sprite.
The taste so overwhelming and at the same time light.
It fizzes and sparks and the taste satisfies.
The soda screams, explodes, and cries.
Snap, bubble, pop.
Release this fantastic taste.
I know that this soda will NOT go to waste.
If you want some, go get your own.
Without getting one, the taste you'll never have known.
Snap, bubble, pop.
The taste will never stop…
(October 2004)

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~~Ransom~~

By Rachel, 14, USA

Mr. Wexler was a rich man who owned at least 4 mansions on the coast of California. He used to be a great movie star but then when he got older he retired. One day, something happend to him that changed his life... something that no one expected from him... something terrible and yet... mistaken...

Mr. Wexler was out on a joy ride in his ferarri. He spotted a baby bundled in a cloth lying alongside the road. He stopped his car and got out and picked the baby up. He examined it and noticed it had a small note on it which read: Whoever finds this baby... keep it. Do not try to look for ANY owners of the baby OR get the Police involved or else... oh, and another thing, ask a ransom for the baby. Write the ransom on a note using letters cut out from magazines and slip it under the door of the Baxter Mansion on top of the hill at 35th Avenue. Then, if you DO get any ransom money, send it in a bag to Oakford Park by noon on Friday the 14th of November. Remember: DO NOT GET POLICE INVOLVED!!!...

Mr. Wexler was speechless and clueless. He skimmed the note once more real quick and then looked back down at the innocent baby who was smiling from ear to ear. Mr. Wexler smiled back awkwardly since he never had any children and didn't know how to raise them. So first thing he did was take the baby back to his house and he changed its diaper. (it really did stink!)
Next he did as the note had said and requested the ransom money. He did this only to be fair and to make sure he wasn't in any trouble with the police or whomever or whatever (for that matter) wrote the note that was stuck to the baby with a strip of scotch tape.
So he slipped the ransom note under the Baxter Mansion door and drove away. When he got back home he bathed the baby and fed it a bottle of lukewarm milk.
"What should I do with you, kid? I've never raised any kids before. I'm clueless!" Mr. Wexler admitted while rocking the baby in his arms and examining its every move to make sure she didn't slip away. The little baby closed her eyes and fell sound asleep. Mr. Wexler just grinned.

Hours later, the ransom money was dropped off where he told Mr. Baxter to take it: The Java Coffee House under one of the booths. So he snatched the bag of ransom and hauled it home in his BMW convertible and locked it in his safe to stay until the 14th of November.

... that day of the 14th of November ...

Mr. Wexler took the baby, placed her in a carseat he bought at a garage sale, and drove to Oakford Park. It was almost noon and he was rushing to get there on time.When he arrived there, the baby was sound asleep and he grabbed the sack of ransom and headed toward one of the trees in the park where he was to set the bag. He placed the bag in the hole in the tree. Only he was bold enough not to set money in the bag... but a bees hive! Ha! What a clever man he was! No... he was NOT going to let some kidnappers get away with kidnapping a baby and still get money for doing so. Mr. Wexler was brilliant to think a bees hive was a just punishment since he couldn't get the Police involved.

Even the baby laughed as she and Mr. Wexler watched the kidnappers scratch and run in torment as the thousands of bees buzzed after them menacingly.
"Well, baby, I suppose it's time to bring you back to your daddy," Mr. Wexler sighed as he pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward the Baxter Mansion. When they arrived at the top of the hill, he placed the little baby girl in the carseat, set it in front of the door on the doorstep, rand the doorbell, and drove away. He couldn't stay to say goodbye to the baby: he knew it would just sadden him.
Mr. Baxter knew all along what Mr. Wexler had done... and he was very proud. He had watched him and followed him all along to see what decisions he was make. So I guess this proves one thing: Not all rich people are snobs, even if they appear to be. They are just like us - normal.
So, even though Mr. Baxter never did thank Mr. Wexler, he knew in his heart what a noble thing Mr. Wexler had done for him.

~*~ THE END ~*~
(November 2004)

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Summer Breeze

By Rachel, 13, USA

As I sit sway on the porch swing at my Grandmother's house, a breeze with a scent of lemons rushes past me and flows through my hair. I close my eyes and smile warmly as the breeze sweeps past me again and refreshes me.
Grandma joins me on the porchswing and sniffs the air and smiles as well. She takes my hand in hers and grasps it with love, and offers to get me some lemonade.
Again I smile, but offer to help her make it since she is old and I am young. She smiles with thanks.

We pour two glasses of lemonade, place ice cubes in them, and walk back out onto her porch to swing on the porchswing. Another breeze blows past us; this time it smelt of sweet, sweet chocolate chip cookies. Grandma smells what I smell, and she offers to bake me some cookies.
I grin but tell her I'll make them. So I roll out the dough into little circles, place them on the tray, and set them with care in the over to bake.

When the oven 'dings', I fetch the cookies out of the oven with my oven mitts on and place the cookies on a plate for her and me to share.

Grandma's house is definitely the greatest place to be in the Summertime!

I love you, dear Grandma!
(August 2004)

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No one has promised tomorrow

By Rachel, 13, USA

No one has promised tomorrow. Tomorrow might not even come for some. The sun hasn't promised to shine. The rain hasn't promised to fall. The weather hasn't promised to vary. The schoolteacher hasn't promised a test.
The wind hasn't promised to blow. The tree leaves haven't promise to change colors. The birds haven't promised to sing.
The car hasn't promised to function. The dog hasn't promised to bark.
And let me tell you this...no one's promised tomorrow. So don't take the beautiful things in life for granted. Enjoy them while they last, because no one's promised tomorrow.
(August 2004)

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A Light at the end of the Tunnel

By Rachel, 13, USA

As I stared out the only window in the corner of my hospital room, I wondered if I'd ever get a chance to go outside again. From outside I could hear the birds chirping and the sound of an ice cream truck. I could see blue and white cotton candy clouds floating above, and little children playing in the yard below.
Suddenly, the Nurse walked into the room and I grew excited. Was she going to let me go outside? No; she had just brought me my usual lunch on a tray.
I had real bad cancer, and I hadn't been outside at all for over three months. My parents seemed to only visit me every three days since they said they had "hectic lives" and "busy schedules."

But one day, the Nurse came in my room without my usual lunch tray. This time, she had brought someone with her. A man.
"Sarah Grace, I'd like you to meet Mr.Jones." Said the Nurse.
"Hello, Mr.Jones," I said politely.
"Hi there, Sarah Grace." He smiled back and rested a had on my shoulder. "Sarah, if it's all right with you, I'd like very much to take you outside."
My smile widened from ear to ear, "Really? For real?" Mr.Jones nodded and helped me into my wheelchair. He rolled me out of the hospital and into the park across the street. There were children of all ages playing and running everywhere.
I introduced myself to a girl about my age. "I'm Sarah Grace," I said blissfully.
"Nice to meet you, Sarah Grace. My names' Jen. How old are you? I'm 11."
"Me too! It's a great day, isn't it!" Jen nodded and looked, with concern, toward my wheelchair.
"Are you….what happened? A car accident? That happened to my Mom a few years back."
"I'm sorry to hear that about your Mom. But, no, I wasn't in an accident. I...I have cancer."
She looked at my head and noticed some of my hair was missing. But then she smiled once more.
"My Mom died in that car wreck," she said with despair, "I was only 7 years old. My Dad woke me up in the middle of the night and told me she got into an accident on her wway home from work. I stayed up crying all night long." Even though I barely knew Jen, I reached forward and we hugged.
"Where are your parents?" Jen asked; dropping the subject about her mother.
"My parents are always away on business trips. I'm here with Mr.Jones - he takes care of me now."
Jen pulled a piece of paper and a pen out of her jeans pocket and questioned, "Do you have an email address?" I nodded, took the pen and paper, and wrote my email on it.
"I check my Email every night," I informed Jen, "to check if I have received anything from my parents. I only have one friend beside you; Haley. She seldom emails me. But at least I can look forward to your emails!" Then she wrote her Email address on the bottom of the paper, tore it in half, kept one end and gave me the other.
"I should get going," Jen finally said. "It's my Grandma Josephine's birthday today so we're going out to dinner at some fancy restaraunt."
"I'll see you around then," I told her as she began to walk away with her father.

That night, I had already received my very first email from my new friend Jen. It read:

'Hi there, Sarah Grace. It's me, Jen. We just returned from dinner and we had chocolate ice cream cake for dessert. My Grandmother Josephine turned 78! Can you believe it? Anyway, please send me something back. I'll be checking my Email every night, too. Bye for now!

-Jen-'

Then I saved the message, turned my laptop off, and fell asleep in my bed.

For the next few weeks, Jen and I continued to email one another. Every day, Jen told me, through her emails, that she was praying for me. And boy did that perform something miraculous!
A month later, Nurse Betty and Doctor Willmin came into my hospital with my parents to tell me the good news. My cancer had passed and I could go home now!

I emailed Jen the first night back in my real home to share with her the fantastic news! She emailed me back right away to say she was so happy for me. Now my hair's starting to grow back and I'm back to normal again.

With friends like Jen, miracles really can happen! So, basically, there really is a light at the end of the tunnel! Even if you think you're lost forever - well, you won't be for long.

Thanks for your time!
(August 2004)

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Phone Blab

By Rachel, 13, USA

I am an average American girl; which means I LOVE to talk on the phone! I could talk for hours on end! - Only, I'm afraid of having to pay some sort of phonebill. This is a random poem (not really even a poem) but that's the point! This is my own unique work. And if you don't like it...well....that's just your opinion and I'm OK with that. Everyone has their own opinion. (like me, for instance)
I talk on the phone with my friends, my relatives, cousins, family....etcetera.

But I'm glad I don't have a phone in my room because all day long all I'd do is blab blab blab.
My parents would have to cut the phone cord to get me off of the phone!
Seriously, though, I really would have to pay like 9 pages of a phone bill.

Thnx for your time, guys!
(August 2004)

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All 'Bout Me

By Rachel, 13, USA

I am 13 turning 14 in a few months. I have four main friends: Anna, Taylor, Emily, and Erin. I desperately need to make some new friends!
I have dirty blonde hair, hazel eyes, slightly tanned skin, and short fingernails. BYE! :)
(August 2004)

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My Dog, Brandy

By Rachel, 13, USA

I bought this puppy just yesterday. His name is Brandy and he's here to stay. He's house broken, and smart, and attentive as well. He's the best puppy; boy is he swell!
He sits, wags his tail, and shakes you hand. If you give him a treat he'll even do a dance. He's the friendliest pup you'll ever meet. He's the best dog ever; isn't that neat!?
(August 2004)

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The Twist Dance

By Rachel, 13, USA

Back in time, let's go back in time to the era of the upbeat dance. Move it on back to the 1960's where we're gonna twist all night. This fun, fun dance puts me in a trance. We're gonna strap on our dancin' shoes. We're gonna get in the dancin' mood.
Dance, dance, dance! That's all we are gonna do! Twist, twist, twist. The Twist makes you happy; not blue.
Turn on your boombox and groove to the rhythm. The beat, the beat, will make you smile. You'll sure be dancin' for quite a while.
So come on baby. Let's do the Twist! Come on, Hunny, so we can do the Twist. Take me by my little hand, and it goes like this.

We'll go around and around and a-up and a-down. We'll do this dance all night, even in our nightgowns.
Come on and join me to this hiphop beat. We're gonna do a dance that's pretty darn neat!
(August 2004)

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The Fog

By Rachel, 13, USA

It was a Monday morning. The rain had cleared away.
The thunder and the lightning had turned the blue clouds gray. The tree bark was so, so soggy. The ground was very wet. That one Monday morning was terrible; how could I forget?
There was a thick patch of fog drifting around, and mildew drops on the ground. Now that the storm had passed on through, the sun came shining for me and you.
Like a tune or a melody, the wind played a song as it flew. The clouds quickly turned from dark gray to blue. Now that the sun is out, and shining gloriously.
It's proof that even cloudy days come, but the sun will reappear; see?
(August 2004)

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