Monday, June 1. 2009
Back to the creative writing desk...let's see if we can shatter the all-time comment record! (Although we'll probably break it during the last thread...)
From the first creative writing thread:
As something of a celebration of fine writing everywhere, I’d like you to create an original piece of writing for this thread. Take something from ...And the Earth Did Not Devour Him as a starting point – a setting, a character (you can invent another one based on that figure), a theme, a plot point, a particularly beautiful image or line of dialogue/prose – and run from there.
The usual guidelines – use fairly school-appropriate language, edit your work, present a piece that’s substantially profound enough to reward your reader for their time, etc. – remain in place. The only new requirement is that your writing must be inspired in some way by Rivera's work; whether this inspiration comes from his language, characters, stories, or themes is entirely up to you.
You may write poetry or prose, fiction or facts (or some mix of the two). You can write from a variety of perspectives – first-, second-, third-, hybrid, etc. You can use dialogue. You can establish a contemporary setting, or set it in another time and place entirely. You can experiment with form, style, and voice; in fact, I encourage you to do so, because anyone who wants to write well – at any level – as an adult needs to seem both versatile and natural. (Plots, themes, and characters seem like they should be just as difficult to master, but you’d be surprised how easily those ideas can strike; form, style, and voice require practice, and it takes a while for these to become as organic as the stories they serve.)
IMPORTANT NEW NOTE: If you wrote poetry earlier, I want you to write something in a different vein (fiction, non-fiction, fragmentation) this time.
For example, you can continue the story in the first vignette from its true conclusion – the day the boy stops drinking the water. You can take “A Prayer” and boil it into a poem – or use the desperation, love, longing, and guilt that lines the story as your subject. You could do something entirely different!
At the end of your piece, please explain the source of your inspiration (for example, “Inspired by “The Children Couldn’t Wait”). If you want, you can even explain how your work relates to the story – what about “The Children Couldn’t Wait inspired you to write? You may or may not choose to reveal exactly what is going on in your work, or whether what you have written is real; again, the choice is yours.
People who wish to submit anonymous work to the blog should speak with me. I may want to toss in a couple short pieces of my own, so you really don't need to worry about anyone finding out who wrote post #59. (For all anyone knows, it could be me.)
I do not care about the “length” of your work; as Rivera proves (quite effectively) in “Vignette #1,” you can pack a lot of meaning into a very small space. I’m concerned mainly with effort, content, and skill – not with the amount of writing on the page. So don’t get tied up in whether what you wrote is long or short enough; write as much as you feel you need to write in order to get your point across to the audience!
The example I used before: If you have a cheeseburger, wrapping it in a bunch of cotton candy doesn’t help. Needless fluff is needless fluff, especially when there’s a perfectly good burger hiding underneath everything else. (For that matter, don’t forget to add cheese and a bun just because you don’t feel like putting a lot of effort into making the burger!) Find your cheeseburger, figure out how to present it, and sit back and enjoy watching your fellow classmates marvel at your creation!
Finally, I want you to provide feedback when you see your classmates’ work. Congratulate them! Praise them! Ask them questions! Please respond to at least five or six of them, or more if possible; there’s no comment limit for this thread, so if you feel like talking to your peers, follow your instincts! (You can even do this for anonymous commentors; they’ll be reading the thread to see how you respond.)
This post is due by Wednesday, June 3rd, at 11:59pm.
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It was the most beautiful night I could have ever seen before. There were no signs of disturbances and no lights seen in the distance, the beach was completely in peace and not a single sound would be heard but the splashing of the waves meeting with the coast. The sky was so clean, that all the stars of the universe could be seen just by the naked eye, and every minute a bunch of shooting starts would be seen. The sky was lost in the horizon making it impossible to tell where the sky came to touch the sea, for the reflection of the water, all that could be seen was an infinite sky.
For every shooting star I saw I would only make the same wish over and over again, would she please love me as well…
We wandered along the coast away from the camping place and then back to it, but never fully returning. We where lost in the magic darkness of the night and the security that it brought to us. Not a single sound or light, but the sea and the stars.
Time was forgotten and we did not know if we were tired or not, but we lay on the sand anyway. It was gently cold, and if you only dug some inches, the heat accumulated by the whole day could be felt in your hands making you feel secure and warm. More shooting stars passed as the night went by, would she please love me as well…
-She is with me now; I cannot describe how happy I am in this moment and how nothing else matters but to be with her. I wish I could stay in this moment trapped forever. I will tell her I love her by the end of the night. I just wish she does as well…
We stood up and wandered some more, this time with a guide who would show us how turtles would lay their eggs on this beach and we would be able to free some newborns to the sea…even in the darkness of the night, the babies knew exactly the direction of the sea, and even though those were their first steps you could tell they didn’t delay a second to get in the sea, where they belong. They would not come back in about 40 years, but we said goodbye with a fulfillment in our hearths. Wow that was a big star; would she please love me as well…
- I am ready to do this.
Everyone left to the camp and I dragged her with me to the beach again.
-“There is something I have been trying to tell you for a very long time. We met a year ago and it seemed to me that you would never be interested on meeting me, but we did and we both found out how much we have in common. There are not enough words for me to explain how I feel for you, and I am not sure that if use the ones I know would be accurate to describe how I feel. Words just don’t fulfill the sentiment I have for you. I have heard this several times in many places, and I am sure you have as well. But believe when I tell you from the deepest of my hearth, that there is no other person I would like to be more right now in the whole world, and just by having the pleasure of encountering you in my life, I can tell you that if I left this world right now, I would leave being the happiest man on earth. I have decided that after the time I have taken to know you, you deserve to know what I feel for you. Words don’t come easy to me, and you know it, but I have thought about this moment in my life several times, and these three words I would tell no one else in the world are just impossible to forget. Just thinking about them inside of my head looking into your eyes makes them feel stronger and more alive. Please know that the shortness of the words are not because they lack meaning, but because they are to be simply understood, for the feeling they express is already too intense and complicated to understand. What I want to tell you is…”
- “Please don’t do this to yourself, don’t offer me something I can’t receive and would never appreciate as much as you do. I want your heart to be kept by someone who will appreciate it as much I know you would appreciate that person’s hearth. I am not the one for you, and I don’t want you to say the words because, once said, there is no turning back. I am sorry.
-“The reason for the one I want to say it to you is because I want you to know, there is nothing that my hearth desires more than to be an eternity by your side, but that choice is not only mine to take. I want to tell you what I feel because I have to take it out of my chest…
-“I don’t want to hear it”
-“But you have t…”
-“I don’t and I wont”
-“Why do you neglect your feelings? Why can’t you accept what is inside of us?”
-“There is nothing inside of any of us but confusion, I don’t want any of us to be hurt.”
-“Just let yourself live, life is about experiences and how much we appreciate the good times before and after the bad ones.”
-“ I don’t want to hear it”
-“I love you”
-“I hate you”
I left to my tent leaving him behind me, holding the tears as much as I could until I could come inside my tent and my friends would hear me out and help me. But when I came in they were all asleep and I just wanted to be away from everyone. I walked alone along the coast feeling the sea splash my eyes every time I gave another step.
I came back at dawn but he was gone. There was nothing different, and everyone seemed to act normally, but he was gone. I looked for him all over the place but I could not find him. –I love you too.
Time had come back to me, and so he turned back in just a memory again. I only wait for the sky to touch the ground again and make my wish again. Would he just come back…
Inspired on: A Silvery Night. It was a beautiful wedding… The Night the Lights went Out.
This was so beautiful! I can see the inspiration right away. I love that when I read your blog, I can stop and visualize what you intend to be seen with your words, your eloquent,descriptive, beautiful words. Well done!
I love how you describe every single detail in your story. It sounds really real and I can actually visualize it. It's like watching a drama! Good job!
I enjoyed reading your story. Every part is amazing and I can see the inspiration easily.
woooow Victor, this was long but that didn't matter because I knew when I started reading it that it was going to be interesting. This has English Major written all over it. Very descriptive starting from the first paragraph, which made me wish that we would have those nights here in Arcadia because I have never seen a sky like the one you described.
It is a must-see before you die. If you ever wondered why ancient civilizations were obsessed with the skies and the stars, you have never seen a sky like that one. I saw it in a beach called Colola, it is not touristic at all, it has no hotels or anything similar and it is protected by the Government because of the turtles, there can be no constructions even near it. If you ever get the chance to go there do it!...(and invite me!!!)
Victor, this was just beautiful as always. You have such a talent for writing if you ever end up writing a book or something I would be so honored to read it. I have seen beaches that are really off the path and hard to get to and they are so beautiful but I have never had the pleasure of seeing them at night. Hopefully I can someday. Keep up the good work !
all im going to say to victor is WOW!!! this is really good i can see that this book has really made you think. i like what you wrote and i have to ask. where can i get your book?
One day I sat down at a bench in my county park. I sat by an oak tree, old an withering in its long years of providing comfort and shade in the hot beating sun. Frustrated by the iniquity surrounding my life, I was dragged down in a somber and poor mood, depressed about my being.
As I sat, pouting about my existence and my poor being, a child ran to me, tired from his soccer playing with his friends.
In his hand was a flower, a poor, dead, withering flower with petals falling off. He said, “I picked this for you!”
I decided to take it, knowing full well that if I did not, the kid might never leave. As I was about to grab it, I realized he had been holding out in mid-air, with no movement towards me. I finally realized he was blind.
I heard myself shudder, chills falling down my spine, as I thanked him for picking the best flower I could see. He replied with a simple “thank you”, and went on back to his game. I wondered how he knew of a man full of sorrow. Perhaps he had been blessed with true sight, the sight to find beauty in the simple things. I then realized the problem was not with everything else, it was with me. I smelled the wonderful fragrance of the flower and looked upon the kid as once again, he was looking for another flower, maybe one day changing the life of another man in need.
This was inspired by Vignette #8. The child decided to give the teacher a button on his shirt, the only one he owned. This kind of goodness within children is genuine and true. Sometimes, we all need to show our appreciation as kids seem to do in the most innocent and constant of ways.
Your story made find beauty in things from the inside. It doesnt matter that the flower was dead, it was the gester of giving something someone thought was beautiful. Giving the smallest things can really make a difference even to a stranger.
This is like another version of the story you are inspired by. It develops the theme in more details. This piece is very impressing with its idea that it does not matter is the gift is expensive or pretty or not, all it matter is its preciousness to the giver and the receiver.
Todd this was BEAUTIFUL! I absolutely loved reading it. It totally painted a scene in my head and the way you wrote it was so perfect. It's the small things in life that mean the most .
This was wonderfully written, Todd. I got goosebumps, seriously. I loved the story. Great message.
This almost sounds like it is a true story. You did a great job on taking a story that Tomas Rivera wrote and made it your own. Also to bad us guys couldn't give a girl a dead flower and have them be so amazed by it. Maybe you should try it and tell us all how she reacts from it!
That was so beautifully written. You are such an inspiring writer Todd.
Todd this was really good! I could picture the entire thing in my head. You are a great writer.
Todd, I am quite impressed and moved by your story. It has creativity and good use of wording and imagery. I agree with you that we can find “beauty in simple things.” Whether a gift is big or small, cheap or expensive, we should appreciate it because it is from the giver’s genuine heart.
As Brian said, I really thought this was a vignette from Rivera himself. I really love that passage and see so much out of it. You did a great job on relating the story and it really made me think a lot.
It’s amazing how many comments you got already XD. It is indeed a great story, not very long, but clearly did not need to be longer, the few words you wrote touch you right away. I have heard similar anecdotes and like them all. Nice job.
This was really inspirational. I really enjoyed reading this piece and I can really understand the relation to the book! Good Job!
I like that you did a similar story to the button story.
Wow, this is very interesting and fun to read, i really enjoyed it. I can totally relate what you write about to Vignette #8. The idea and gesture of giving is really sweet, especially the other kid is blind. You are a really good writer.
This story was well thought out. It has lots of meaning and it teaches a valuable lesson to us all. The order couldn't have been more perfect. Short, but powerful.
This was a really cute story. At first i was like... Okay so you're in a park, then what? When you got to the part where the boy was blind, I can see why that story inspired you to write this. It didn't matter if the flower was dead or not, its the actual thought and courage they put up to actually go forth and give it to a person they do not know.
Conclusion to Vignette #7
I did not understand why my grandfather had criticized me for wanting ten years of my life to pass by quickly. I mean, it was my life and I was the one in complete control of my own life. But it wasn’t until that day when I realized why my grandfather had called me stupid.
My grandfather had just passed away last month. It has been five years since he last criticized me. From that very same afternoon, my grandfather and I talked for hours. I did not know how interesting my grandfather could be. That night we shared countless of stories with each other, and he even taught me some tips on how to take a girl on a date. My grandfather and I had been very close since then. I would tell him everything about my life. But now that he was gone, life has never been the same. There wasn’t anyone who I could vent my stress to. I have realized how long and memorable five years can be.
Inspired by Vignette #7.
I have "never" realized how long and memorable five years can be.
I think we all can relate to this story. As senior year is ending we want to move on so quickly. I can't count how many people say "I want this to be over already." What we don't realize is that it is almost over. Why not enjoy it. I will most likely never see most of you guys for the reswt of my life. Appreciatate these people and your years at AHS. You will never get it back. Take advice from Mr. Grandpapa
Man, this was really good! It makes me think twice about the story. I really like the way you used your words and how engaging they are. I have to say my favorite part of your blog is that you turned it into something that I could relate to, even if I didn't necessarily relate to Rivera's words.
I liked your conclusion of Vignette #7 a lot, because you really showed what anyone would have probably wrote! Basically the connection between the grandson and grandfather, finding interesting things about his grandfather, girls tips, etc. All that before the grandfather would pass away.
I liked your conclusion, Henry. It is true. There are so many valuable lessons we can learn from elderly people that it is actually unbelievable. We never know how much something means to us until we lose it. But those memories that boy has of his grandpa will never be forgotten.
Henry, I liked your post and especially your conclusion. It really makes the reader feel like the boy finally understands the essence of time when he becomes a man! (:
I love your last sentence of your conclusion. Its really meaningful and I feel that anyone can relate to this.
I think most people can relate to this. We should all treasure the time we have left with our grandparents and elderly family members, because they are not going to be here for ever.
I really like this! It was interesting to see things from a different point of view than third person. The personal connection to it made it really interesting.
I really enjoyed this story and makes you appreciates life. You never know how important things or people are until you have lost them, and it is unfortuante we don't realize how precious they are until its all gone. Life is too short to wish it all away, like the boy in the story.
I really liked your blog. I think it shows that we should never take anyone or anything for granted cause we never know when it'll be gone. We should always treasure the memories we have.
That was a very good extension/view on the vignette. I also was interested in this one. You put this together well and I agree on how even just 5 years is so important. You can't let just life pass you by, especially by the lesson of his grandfather passing away.
I didn’t imagine such an ending to this vignette. I really liked it, it is incredible the wisdom someone as old as your grandparents can share with you. And of course your grandpa will have amazing tips to get girls to go out with you! Behind those wasted faces and noble eyes is an entire life filled with experiences. Good job in your ending ☺.
Most impressive, this make me understand that I should always enjoy every moment i have with the best intention. Your writing influence me to think about this story more in depth and i fully understand the theme and this story's purpose now. Thanks.
I like the way you wrote this. It makes me want to get to know my grandpa more in his last years
“Not yet, you can’t swallow me up yet. Someday, yes. But I’ll never know it.”
He tilts his head towards the sky, a last desperate attempt to defy his fatigued body. The earth smells like burnt cocaine mixed with the suffocating humidity of the Louisianan summer night. It offended his senses, but he could not complain; he was responsible for the crack, and he might as well be responsible for the weather.
His left hand slumped from his lap to the dirt, and he left it there. His fingers wrapped around a little soil, and a cockroach scampers away from its hiding hole, disturbed by his prescence. There was not a single star illuminating the sky, and he felt a terrifying, empty loneliness.
“No, you can’t swallow me yet. I don’t care if all I am worth is food for the rats, I want to live. I can’t die yet, I just can’t. I’m going to keep hanging here, because God, I know you don’t have a place in heaven for me anymore.”
Inspired by "...And the Earth Did Not Devour Him," the story. Also, slight inspiration from a character from "When We Arrive."
Wow. I'm not going to lie -this fits incredibly well into the book and how Rivera might have even seen it. Sort of hopeless, you know? Your ending really hits me hard... I kind of get a sense of distance, and more so the fear and dread instilled in the boy's heart is semi-derived from the deep devastation of losing touch with God. That God has no more space for him, it's interesting.
Wow. Very descriptive. I loved how you filled in Rivera's blanks with your own words. I like your version of the story.
Wow. I thought it was very interesting. Really like the flow of your writing. Nice job.
This was very interesting Tamara!
I never saw it continuing this way and I really enjoyed reading it! Its intenese but very true how Rivera see's the world of the Chicano Society! GOOD JOB!
Wow this take that story even further. The description of the place made me feel a little bit of the heat of hell XD. The anger of the kid to God is now expressed as if we were inside the boy’s head. Good job with your post.
I like the detail within your story. very nicely written.
This is really strong and is really good, and it perfectly explained what the boy is thinking. The boy feel empty and realized that he has to face his fate. The fact that he lose contact with God means that he lose hope and all of his beliefs, and this really have a impact on what I i think. I totally have a new point of view on this story now, wow you are really strong writer.
“The child tore one off his shirt and offered it to her”
I did this because the poster needed the change. Without it, it just makes the other posters that much better then the button one. I didn’t need it anyway. This is the only shirt I have and I wish I could just get rid of it. But my mom says I MUST wear clothes. I don’t want to be naked; I just wish I could have clothes like the other kids. My clothes remind me of everything I don’t have.
I wrote this because I wanted to continue the story with the young kid giving the button to his teacher. His thoughts were that the poster needed change, which represents how the Chicano society needs change, because without it they will remain disrespected and taken advantage of. I believe the boy gave his button in a kind heart, because the saying is that the people who have nothing can be more giving then the people who have everything. But it wasn’t just out of a kind heart; it was out of his frustration as well. The only shirt he ever has just reminds him constantly daily that he has nothing and that he isn’t worth anything. This is what the Chicano society represents; every one of them suffers from working so hard but never progressing. There life is stuck in a tube waiting to be pushed out, but the rest of the world isn’t giving them the chance. Life for them is slowly just repeating itself, but the boy symbolizes that he wants a change and hopefully they all will feel the same way.
This sounds exactly like the boy. It really sounds like something he would say. It's realistic too even though it was very different from what we talked about in class. It shows another side of the story rather than the boy just being someone who wants to belong. He still wants to belong but you put in a different way and I liked that.
Sounds like you got inside of that boy's head! I agree with you completely. I think that is why Rivera writes this book - to give the Chicano community a chance to express what they are going through and the hardships that seem to be overlooked.
I thought that this was a inspiring way how you explained it. You've opened my views on how it relates to the Chicano society, and it made me see the passage better. I can relate to what you are saying and totally agree.
Wow, I like how you gave it a new sense to the action of the boy. I agree with you when you say the Chicano community needs a change and that they have to try to reach for higher grounds. But I don’t think at all the kid feels he is less than others. You would be impressed to see how those who might seem to have less then you can be more fulfilled than anyone you have ever met.
I feel the same way about why the child gave up his button. I thought about it as a positive way just as you did but I didn't think their was another aspect to it. Now I understand about the frustration of the boy. Props for your amazing analysis and thanks for the insight.
It hurts. What else could I have done.
I wanted to make it stop, the pain.
It hurts. Was it my fault?
Was it because of my color?
It hurts. I feel so embarassed. How can I tell them?
I will not have a better life then this one.
It hurts. The way they stare at me like an animal.
I must hide. I must get away. I must not tell THEM.
It hurts. I am a failure.
Was it my fault? I only wanted to make it stop.
It hurts. Will this ever end? This discrimination.
Who am I? Where do I belong? Is it here, in this cemetery?
It hurts. I wish someone could tell me what to do
It just hurts...
I could tell this was inspired by "It's that it Hurts." This definitely could be the thoughts racing through the child's mind. It gives a sense of how he felt and what he had to face. I also liked how you incorporated a little of "Why do ya'll go to school so much" because the person in this piece believes that he or she will not have a better life. Good job, I like your use of questions to convey meaning.
I like how you are describing the feelings inside the little Chicano boy. It is about everything he has ever felt about inequality and about how he is treated differently from other people. He also develops some wonders about why he is being treated this way. I like your way of going deep into the boy's emotions.
Lizzie, you completely captured the boy's voice! This was very well written and all the questions in your post made it seem like the boy was actually asking them. I could easily see the little boy saying your exact words!
Nice writing. You know exactly what you are writing and the feeling you are expressing.
I really like how you wrote just as the boy was thinking, much like Rivera's stream of consiousness. It was very interesting and I can definetly see this character thinking those exact thoughts.
Good poem. I liked how you got inside the boy’s head and wrote everything he would possibly be imagining. Discrimination is a major problem faced by Chicano migrants and this boy needs to know why he is being treated this way. You expressed this in an insightful way.
This was very well written poetry. I felt the same way about this short story. I see and understand how you put this together. It was perfect and great! =] I loved how you expressed the boys thought and feelings.
I like how you took this story into more detailed explanation of what the kid feels. When I read the story I understood a different perspective of the boy’s thoughts, but I do think that yours fits well too and gave it new meaning to the story. Good job.
Great Work Elizabeth!
I actually got some real emotion pulled from this. I liked how you described so much in such a little poem. It was very powerful and inspiring
nice! i like the overall flow of this. you should make it into a rap!
She took her time in everything that she did.
She got up at about 8:30 in the morning and did not rush out of bed. Instead, she stared out the window to gaze at the morning sun. It gently shined on her blanket covers and she noticed this. So she looked at her covers and examined how the light of the sun made her covers brighter. She decided it would be a bright day and that she would spend the day walking outside next to the trees.
The next would be spent on painting a picture of the trees she had seen the day before. The day after that day would be spent on framing the portrait to put on her wall.
This was inspired by “A stroke left the grandfather paralyzed…” In contrast to the boy in the vignette, the woman in this story enjoys the present as it is. She does not care to see what is ahead of her. She values time and does not want to rush through things and life itself. Moreover, her slow and steady pace make her a person who wants to take life slowly, to enjoy each moment that life has to offer.
I LOVE THIS! It's so simple, but I can immediately see your point even without your explanation. But I'm glad it's in there, just for subtle clarification. I think my favorite part is when the sun shines down onto her blanket, making the colors more vivid. How that vivid color helps her decide that this day is going to be a good , bright day -and she makes it that way. How optimistic!
Edzelle! hey "neighbor" hahaha =P I loved your post! It really ties in with the whole "Take time to smell the roses" idea. Life is meant to be lived, while remembering the moments we cherish, the moments that define us . (:
This was great! You were trying to portray the girl as someone who wishes to live slowly and that is just how you wrote it! When I read it, I noticed the slow, relaxed tone. Great job!
What an optimistic way of looking forward to life. I like how the light symbolizes a brighter day—hope. We should all definitely spend every moment of our lives like we will die tomorrow. Time is precious and we should spend it wisely. If rushed, we would not value the experiences and hardships we underwent to get to our final destination.
I like the mood of your story. It kind of made me want to sleep as she did and be able to wake up at 8:30 every morning to paint. I think peace is one of the things we seek in life, and it is wonderful how you described a worriless day.
Treasure each moment of your life, becuase you only get one. It's best to live each day as it is and not what will happen in the future or could happen. But it's always good to have a goal in mind.
I really liked this post, it was simple and to the point. The vignette itself is very simple and you followed that same concept here. I enjoyed your story, its ture people need to slow down and enjoy what they have. Life's so short to go rushing through things. Good Job!
Inspired by “…and the Earth did not Devour Him” and how many times good people die, and we can't fully comprehend it..
(fiction inspired by true life events)
3:15pm, I pull up into my driveway as I’ve routinely done for the past few years. I swivel into my impossibly small garage, roll down the windows, remove the keys from the ignition and toss them into the passenger seat, close the garage and open my door. 3:17pm and Buddy wobbles his way down two flights of stairs, skipping the entire second set of stairs and slides halfway across my living room and knocks me over. It’s been 15 years and I still can’t prepare myself for his little homecoming attack.
7:45pm he hassles me at my desk and I throw my overcoat on, grab a plastic baggy and take Buddy out on a walk. He’s getting old so when he comes home, he goes straight to sleep. “Good Boy, night now”.
12:13am, I hear his clumsy footsteps walk toward his water bowl as he leaves streaks of water and drool in his pathway.
6:10am, just as he does everyday –he wakes me up to open the door for him and if I don’t he whimpers in my ear until I can’t stand it any longer. I throw myself out of bed, open the door and get ready for school. I leave the house closing the door on his precious puppy eyes and kiss him good-bye.
7:48pm –where’s Buddy? “Buddy?” I caught a glimpse of him sleeping, I let him be.
6:10am –nothing. “Hmm, I’m lucky –Buddy slept in for once”
7:50am –I rush out of bed throw on some clothes and as I rush out the door to leave for school, he’s there…panting, wheezing…I call the vet and take him in immediately.
1:00pm –as cruel as the college rejection letterhead, “Miss, I regret to inform you that…”
2:00pm, I take Buddy home, I take him out for one last walk and dread that at 6pm I’m going to take him back to the vet.
6:00 pm, I’m driving to the hospital, dwelling on the thought that in a few minutes, I’m going to sit in the waiting room pending my dog’s passing. The nurse opens the door, “Buddy?” –my heart drops. My hands shaking cold as I plaster a smile on my face, “Buddy, c’mon boy you’ll be fine” –I lied. They set him on the table, I looked him in the eyes, gave him a big hug, and held his paw –and for one last time, the few words I’ve recited for the past 15 years, “Good Boy” The nurse injects the needle into Buddy and his eyes slowly droop as I see him using all his force to keep them open… my heart breaks. I watched his eyes drooped the same way they did everynight before he went to sleep after a long walk, except this time –I know that he’s not waking up 6:10 the next morning.
12:15am and I swear I hear him drinking out of his water bowl and my heart would freeze and speed up all in the same millisecond, but that sound... simply vanished. From the corner of my eye I saw movement…it was clear whenever I saw it happen, but when I turned to see –there was nothing.
3:17pm, I smile anticipating the homecoming attack, “I’m ready this time..” I’m ready, I’m ready, I’m ready.. –I’ll never be ready. I’ll never be ready to accept what happened, but one day I’ll be forced to. One day –not today. The house is too empty, leftovers were actually thrown into the trashcan, nothing snuggled against my feet, nothing. Nothing seemed right anymore… And the Earth had devoured him.
“Good people pass away, the godly often die before their time…and no one ponders it in their heart; and no one understands that the righteous are taken away to be spared from evil…they find rest as they lie in death” (Isaiah 57:1)
Rest in peace Buddy
Such a talented writer! Despite how sad this was, I REALLY liked it. I especially liked how you were able to make your daily life into a very well put together story. The format was really cool, how you put the time each event occur. As always, great job Lisa (:
I almost teared up while reading your story. I can imagine the feeling of losing something you had for a long time and afterwards it just felt so...empty. And again, awesome writing style! I've loved it since the beginning of the year!
This was amazing.
Last week I had to put down my four year old St Bernard because of cancer. You captured every emotion, both good and bad that you feel as a dog owner. As lame as this is I'm sitting here crying because I know how you felt. I can walk out the front door without having to ask my dog to get up, I don't have to clean hair and drool off every outfit before I get to school or wake up in the middle of the night because of his loud snoring but at the same time I don't come home to his spastically wagging tail and happy face.
I guess all of this to simply say you are a great writer and I loved reading this.
I am SOOO sorry about your loss... from the bottom of my heart, really. I can't imagine what you're going through right now... (I've lost, but much longer ago -now I have two Golden Retrievers :] ) but I don't need to tell you that you had four wonderful wonderful years with your baby and though nothing can replace that -you can always think about how he made those four years BEAUTIFUL. How those four years meant so much to you because of what he's done. He's in doggy heaven now! Maybe our dogs will get acquainted! hahah. Keep your head up! Thanks for the feedback buddy!
Lisa, I hope that you are not talking about Kenshin... Reading this from top to bottom made me feel really sad inside. I really enjoyed reading every bit of it. Good job!
NOOOOO never. If that ever ever happened to Kenshin, I would not be going to school with a smile hahaha. TRUST.
Kenshin will live forever
This was so sad, Lisa ! Nonetheless, I enjoyed reading your post and I loved your word choice, especially in the last half. The last sentence cleverly wrapped everything up and related it back to the story you were referring to in the book.
Wow. Your writing is amazing. Made me kind of sad while reading your story. What a great writer!
Wow Lisa this was amazing! I could tell it was very heartfelt so I was in tears by the end (literally haha!). But aside from that, I really liked the structure of the story; it was very original. The story was straight to the point, yet filled with so much meaning and feeling that it made it almost impossible to take my eyes away from the screen...You did a really great job!
I love this and it was so sad to read. I love the format of your writing and its amazing how well you put it.
Wow deeply touching story, I remembered the time when I had my two dogs. When I came to the US I had to leave them both in Mexico, we didn’t have space for them here. I know they are well taken care of in a big ranch where they can run and play with each other. But I will never stop missing how I would go out, sit on the floor and my puppy would come and lay on my lap, falling asleep as I pet her.
I'm sorry about your lost! I remember my siblings telling me that I had two dogs who passed away but I was too young at the time to remember. I thought you did a great job and I just wanted to say that your very creative when it comes to creative blogs!
My Grandfathers Ring
My grandfather’s ring,
given to me by my grandmother.
My prized possession,
my inspiration to do what I love.
The ring is part of me, as it keeps my grandfather close.
Sent to get clean at the jewelers they lost it…Gone forever.
They apologized, said it was accidentally thrown in the trash.
From that day, I have been lost.
I have never been found.
My heart was tossed in the thrash.
My memories, inspiration, faith, and hope, all taken away.
What now? What did I do? Why me? Why now? What’s next?
How will I make it? What’s going to help me in life?
All I needed is...
my grandfathers ring.
Inspired by The Portrait
This is just a scenario, which I would hate if it happened to me because I do have my grandfather’s ring that I got when he passed away and I cherish to this day. I didn’t lose it but I just thought; What if this happened? I would never lose it though. I hope to show that these little possessions mean so much to people that do not have much such as the lady in this piece or to anyone else.
"The Portrait" was probably one of the most memorable stories in the book for me. Something like the picture of Chuy and the grandmother's ring in your piece, no matter how hard one tries, can never be replaced. They both are invaluable. Even all the money in the world can't replace those things. It seems to me that you understand the value of certain things as much as I do (:
You have an idea of what would happen if you this would happen to you which lets you take even more caution. Many people do not realize how valuable something is till they lost it. This goes for objects, people, anything. Even myself, I tend to forget when I try to do too many things at once. I get overwhelmed and I don't think straight.
I liked how you described how much an object can mean to someone. If you had noticed, I wear a necklace everyday, it was given to me by my mother when I turned 15, and I don’t even take it off to shower, since the day I’ve put it on it has only been off so I can play with it XD. I also wear my grandfather’s belt. My mom gave it to me two years ago the day he passed on. Now, I “don’t have anything” from my grandmother who passed two weeks ago. But people who were present in our lives and for one reason or another are gone never leave our hearths. And the memories from my grandpa and grandma will stay in my head and hearth forever. My mom is alive and there is not a day I have gone to bed without a kiss from her. Even when she was here in the US and I was in Mexico she would send me a kiss every night on the phone. It will be something I will miss, but in my hearth I will always have her goodnight kiss.
Hey Martin! I really appreciate your comment. Your piece is very lovely. I can relate to that because I lost something that means a lot to me. You created a unique piece that was truly inspirational.
Wow I'm really truly sorry to hear that Jessica. I have had my mother move my grangfathers ring without me knowing and when I couldn't find it I tore up my room. Thanks for the compliment on my blog.
Conclusion to Vignette #7 (“A stroke left the grandfather paralyzed…”)
Twenty years later and now I know why.
Ironically, the most meaningful words my grandfather ever said to me were “You’re stupid”. Our conversation quickly ended and I was left confused and emotionally stabbed by his words at age ten. What did that even mean? Why was I was stupid for wanting to fast-forward through ten years of my life? All I wanted was to be older. As I watched my father leave for work every morning with his “grown-up” suit and his “grown-up” shoes, all I could remember was me wanting to fill them. I admired my father so much, I would sneak into his closet to try on his clothes, and when he caught me rummaging through his closet, he’d pick me up, pat my head and say, “Don’t grow up too fast”. I never understood what he meant, and when my grandfather called me stupid for wanting to know what happens for the next ten years, I never understood why he called me stupid, until now.
Twenty years later and I’m working in my cubicle, mindlessly doing my job and wishing for the days where all I had to worry about was…well, nothing. My childhood seems like a blur. The moments I wished to put on pause are gone and all I have left are puzzle pieces that don’t fit. My grandfather lived his life to the fullest, so what was wrong with me? What was the reason why my life was so boring and why wasn’t I living?! Only now do I realize that life is the art of drawing without an eraser. You cannot correct what has already happened; you can only make the rest of your marks on the canvas called “world” and create your best masterpiece called “life”. My grandfather was a wise man, and I was a stupid young boy.
Inspired by “And a stroke left the grandfather paralyzed…”
The flow and use of language in this is amazing. I don't think I can write the way you do, the way everything seems to flow so perfectly. Great word choice too. I especially liked the ending because of your use of analogy with "the art of drawing without an eraser." It definitely conveys in a symbolic way of how you can't go back in time and do something over. Therefore, there's no point in regretting anything.
I love your word choice in here. And how it is completely describing the boy's realization ten years later. It sounds so real too because some people actually do not cherish life as much as they should be. It's a very detailed continuation of the piece.
Awwww hahah you are not stupid Britt. That's preatty harsh to tell a baby. However I do understand where your Grandpapy was coming from.
Hahaha.. Lazarous ... it's my own conclusion of vignette number 7! my grandpa never actually called me stupid. and what the heck, did you just call me a baby?!
I can't even tell if you were kidding or not hahaha ):
Wow Brittney. That was really impressive. Your words are poetic and strong. You seem to have a good grasp and a powerful ending that is a spine thriller. Your writing is eloquent and persuasive and was truly impressive once again.
aww brit!this is a cute blog! your words are so strong and its very poetic just like everyone else who posted on your blog ...its soo good! i'm really impressed with it! good job!
Conclusion to Vignette #1
It was bitter sweet seeing my mother doing what she does everyday, I am not so sure why but I was really depressed and torn about the situation that I am in. I feel just horrible lying to my mother like that knowing that her drive for living everyday is based on my lies. If the lies that I commit are with good intentions then why do I feel so wrong, am I or my mother not meant to be happy? what is our purpose in life? At the same time I am relieved to find that my mother is up everyday working because she believes that the spirits are on her side guiding her and giving strength to go about her day.
What if I were to come clean? what effect would it have on my family and I? I wonder if my mom would be the same, on how she treated me and herself. I wonder if God would forgive me if I confessed or am I doomed to have this life and I am not meant to be happy. When I grow older and I work up the courage to confess to my mother what will that change, or over time would this big lie turn little. What ever the case will be in the end I hope that she will still love after what I have done.
I was about to choose to do this vignette, you did a great job. You did a great job on getting into the head of the boy. I think it would have been cool if you tried to do a conversation between the boy and his mother on him confessing him to what he has been doing. But I liked how you had him think of what everyone would think of him for what he had did. Great job!
I thought this was really good. It was a great extend of the vignette and especially how you expressed the boy's feelings. This made me think about my own mother and the sacrifices I would do for her. (aaaaawwwwwww..) I love how you described it in detail from beginning to end of the vignette.
Your first few sentences are very powerful. They seem full of guilt, but when I was reading it, I didn't feel sorry for the mother. Even though the kid was lying to his mom about the glasses, she still didn't know. Plus, it's only a glass of water every night. I mean, what's the big deal?
The children are confused…
they are doubting the existence of Santa Claus.
“Is it because I broke the glass and blamed it on my cat?”
“Is it because I got into a fight with my brother?”
The children remained hopeful…
they awaited the day of the Reyes Magos.
“Maybe Santa Claus got lost on the way to our house.”
“Maybe he’s preparing something bigger for us.”
But nothing came this year, the next year, ten years after that.
Until their parents are old and retarded, can't distinguish them as the younger or the older brother.
Until they finished off high school, college, and found a rewarding job, lost in the intensity of works.
Until one day, every man is equal, there is no discrimination and prejudice...
A present appeared next to the chimney in the new house.
It is a present for their mother, to be grateful for everything she has ever done for them.
Inspired by "The Night Before Christmas"
Wow I would have never wrote what you have written. I was planning on doing Night before Christmas as well, with a conclusion that led to the children finally getting toys! Yet you wrote it totally reversed instead of the children getting toys. They are all grown up and giving the mother a gift for all that she has done. good job!
The beginning sounds so hopeless for any kindness. Even towards the end I thought you were going to end it sad and depressing again. I guess it makes sense why you made it end happily. Everyone deserves a happy ending. Even you Pooh Pooh.
I liked how you ended it. The children totally understood their parents and thanked them many years later even though they never received any. This shows how genuine and kind people can be. Instead of receiving gifts, giving them can be just as rewarding.
This is different from what I would write but nonetheless it was still a good conclusion to the night before christmas. Instead of begging his mother and father for toys and gifts, the children finally see how much their mother sacrificed for them in order to make them happy. So by repaying her, they get her a gift instead. That's a really neat idea.
I have already faced a point where respecting elders is not a question but rather a fact. After Vignette #8 i can see myself actually giving up my button if i had one.
It was any other Saturday, where I woke up in the afternoon from a long night. Heading towards the restroom i noticed that i was the only one at home and felt free knowing today was going to be a relaxing Saturday. As usual i would wash up and fully get out of sleep mood and get back to relaxing by turning on the Saturday cartoons.
Morning was a routine to my grandparents. Always waking up and taking a long walk to the near by park where many other grandpas and grandmas would meet up and have daily warm ups. I felt everyday with them was smooth as Ive learned that my grandma was always hard on me. She needed to yell and scold to prove a point without actually punishing me. As for my grandpa, it seemed like he completed her as he was completely different. If you could imagine one of those old men that was always giving and caring of there surroundings then you have a picture of my grandpa.
After the morning of cartoons, i decided to go out. However, getting around wasn't easy and that is where my grandpa would come in. It was the best to be able to just get up and go at such a young age but my grandpa didn't care. He knew i like McDonald s and it was no questioned asked if i wanted to go or not. Unfortunately, this time it wasn't perfect. Almost five minutes away from our destination, my grandpa loses control from the wheel and swerves until a Bang! of two cars fully stopping traffic. I knew something was very wrong but vaguely knew exactly what was going on. The only expression on my grandpas face was a frown that couldn't seem to get lower. Even though i wasn't happy, plans had to change as our new destination was home. My mom came earlier than usual but it didn't bother me until i heard what was going on. That day i learned what a car crash was and understood the punishment for getting into an accident. In no time the day was over and my bed time was approaching. My grandpa always stayed awake with me and watched the shows i wanted to watch even though i knew he couldn't even understand it. I knew things was going to be alright because my mom did check up on me and basically cleared up everything that happened. As my last show of the night was coming to an end, i made a trip to my room to brush my teeth but getting my secret box. A brown cardboard box with my vast selection of Pokemon cards where i pulled my first and only twenty i had at that age. I knew giving it wouldn't help but it wasn't for what had happen but more as i knew i didn't need it and worth more to my grandpa than it would to me.
Continuation to Vinette #1
Who is keeping count anymore? Has it been five, ten or even fifteen years since he’s last seen her? Time doesn’t seem to be fixing anything because regret still lingers in the air.
James’s mom lost her sanity after he told her that he had been drinking the glass of water that she left for the spirits ever since he was old enough to remember. It now has been eleven years and seven months since he has been with her. As a reader, we sympathize for the loss of hope the mother was stripped of but we also cheer for her to keep on moving forward. Unfortunately her mental stability was not strong enough and her state of depression took her over. When I say that James has not been with his mother for more than a decade, I did not mean he hasn’t been with her in the physical aspect but more of the state of emotions. There seemed to be nothing James could do, he was growing up and the lie that kept his mother sane and hopeful was wearing down to its last days before James future took him away. He thought it over and over again if he should have just left the water untouched one night, and maybe that would have saved her sanity… he thought over and over again if he just stayed home and remained drinking the glass off water… he thought and he thought but nothing filled his mind more than the thought of regret so he vowed to visit his mother every day until he sees her state improve.
Every day James goes to the city mental clinic to see his mom and ironically asks the doctor the same question every time… “Is there any hope?” He asks this to see if there are any signs of improvement, any chance of her becoming sane again. There was never hope because what James failed to realize was that when his mother lost hope, she didn’t only lose hope in only the future but she lost all hope in herself. So the question still remains, does he continue to drink it? Does he leave it? Or does he still tell her?
Loved your conclusion of Vignette #1, wouldn't have expected the mom to have gone crazy, but more of a huge crushed feelings and disappointment in her son for lying to her for many years.
Saying that the mother goes insane after she finds out seems unlikely but after think about it more I don't know what I would do. What if everything you lived for was a lie? Or even just one thing like you think orange is orange but its really blue but people have been lying to you your whole life. What would you do? Could you correct yourself in saying blue?
I wouldn't have expected you to write the mom going crazy! thats crazy! anyways, good job! i like this post a lot
Love. Trust. Spontaneity.
What happens when the love is burning ever so brightly, only to leave the trust to a mere dim?
What happens when trust is gone?
Cheating. Disbelieving. Skepticism.
Rumors are wrong, of course. But they do their duty – get information around to different people. False information. Inform everyone of the cheating. Disbelieving. Skepticism.
When we are not sure what to expect, we believe anything we are told – truth or fiction.
If we believe the false terms, what happens?
We cheat to figure out the truth. We are in disbelieve that we could ever give in to such falsehood. We become skeptics for the remainder of our years, wondering if what we know is true or false. But… is the unknown ever worth dying for, instead of longing to see the outcome? Does committing suicide terminate the cheating? Disbelieving. Skepticism.
Little Johnny likes to lie. He lies about everything: school, relationships, academic, career, homework, etc, and he simply can’t stop lying because it is his nature. At the young age of 9, he lied his way out of doing homework and taking tests. At the age of 13, he lied to his parents that he has been studying hard at school, which his parents paid thousands and thousands of dollars for tuition for every semester. At the age of 17, he lied to his friends that he didn’t betray their friendships. And now, at the age of 18, little Johnny is lying to him self. All the lies that he had made before are hutting him down. His parents don’t trust him anymore, his friends still don’t take his words seriously, and he can’t graduate due to lack of academic participation at school. Little Johnny is lying to himself that everything will be fine and there will always be a new beginning. In the end, Johnny is stuck in his lies, and little can he realize the difference of realities and his fantasies.
Liar Liar, Pants on Fire
And Johnny will get what he deserves.
Terry, I'm just wondering which chapter or story inspired you to write this. It seems like the story where the boy got expelled from school inspired you or something else that I don't know of. But your story really reminds me of a certain someone I know, and now his parent's don't trust him as much as they used to. Good perspective maybe?
I feel invincible, second shot at life but you
already know the principles. Ask me for
a vision and I’ll direct you where you suppose
to go. You can never understand where I’m
coming from because where I’m coming from the
population remains only one, me.
So sit here as life passes by laughing.
I mean who am I to tell it not to, right.
I had a talk with my self and we agreed that
understanding and reasoning is what I really
lack. Am I confused? Nope that can’t be right,
just because I’m trying to do it all tonight, that just
means I’ve got plans and that’s alright. I’ve got a
certain lust for life and where it stands. Understand
the significance of my dreams. Is this something
I could never believe? Or is this something I will
never receive, is it beyond my means, inside my dreams
can it never come out because its scared to, unprepared to.
To worried about the words of the people its wear to.
You don’t want them to hear you. You just wish it was a door
that would appear that I could go disappear through, but I hope
your feeling my pain, I was feeling the same, but I promised
myself I’d never feel It again so that’s where I stand.
Hey! I like your poem a lot. You rhyme really well. Your poem was fun to read and I can tell that you added your voice. Your piece is very creative and energetic which I thought was stunning.
haha for some reason i can see you at like a poetry barn sitting in the spotlight with your dads french hat and your acting this out! haha and people are snapping for you!
It was yet another night,
that his mother left a glass of water under the bed.
And it was yet another night,
that his mother would kiss him goodnight.
It was yet another night,
that Jason would drink the glass of water.
However, during that night...
She placed the glass of water under Jason's bed.
"Goodnight Jason, I love you."
As she left the room, Jason had gotten out of his bed and reached for the glass of water.
During the time of drinking the refreshing taste of water,
his mother had walked in forgetting to give her son a goodnight kiss.
Gleaming upon him, she noticed that Jason had the cup in his hand and drops her mouth.
"Wh...Wha...What are you doing dear?"
...As he quickly puts the glass of water back under the bed
"*Sighs*, Mother, I have something to tell you."
"Wait, ar.. are... you telling me that.. that it was you this whole time...?"
"Yes mother, I have longed to tell you... but I just couldn't find the right time to tell you."
In sudden shock, the mother slowly closed the door as she walked quietly back into her room...
The next morning Jason woken up awaiting for a nice morning breakfast.
...There was no sight of food prepared on the table anywhere.
"Mother!" Shouted Jason.
As he knocked on his mother's closed door,
he slowly opened it.
There was bits and piece of water on the floor,
that were all leading to the closed bathroom door.
A note was left on her bed in bold text,
This is a rather devastating conclusion to Vignette #1. The open ending captures Rivera's style of writing well. It's hard to imagine what the mother must be feeling after finding out the sad, cold truth.
Good caption of what you think would happen if his mother found out. There are so many different ways to picture it and I guess that's why Rivera never actually spells out a specific punishment for his characters. The ending to yours was rather devastating and sad, especially when he tried so hard to keep his mother's faith.
Most elaborate presentation. I wonder if the truest spirit to this
work would be in Spanish .
To me the fact that it can be even interpreted differently makes for ambiguity which I imagine is good for a good story to evolve.
SFHP – 2
A Silvery Night
Out of all the nights of being alone, this night he would be different. It was a silvery night when I called out for the devil. The night seemed perfect; violet sky, and warm breezes. There wasn’t a soul out in the field. As I walked back home disappointed and doubted, I heard my name being called in an ere voice. When I came home I began to feel chills and my stomach became upset as well. I began to reminisce about all the scary movies my dad and I would watch together. They were mostly documentaries bout how people become possessed and ones about how the biggest rock stars would sell their souls to the devil for the riches of the earth. Maybe I’m just being paranoid. I just need to sleep.
All night I tossed and turned, sweating and feeling nauseous, but when I woke up for breakfast in the morning, I felt fine. In fact I felt great! My dad called me and asked for my help in the afternoon to load the truck with wood. Throughout the day, my dad and I would throw fits about how to load the wood, why wasn’t I wearing the work clothes, etc. I know how to do, I know what I’m wearing, and I dressed myself this morning no? For dinner, I usually help my mom with the cooking but I was tired and aching from loading wood around all day.
A few days past and I realized I was looking, feeling, and acting completely not myself. My parents confronted me and asked why I was talking in tongues when I slept. Then it hit me that maybe the night that I had called out for the devil, I had brought a bad spirit with me back home; I maybe haunted by it. My parents called the priest to come over and bless the house and myself. That did not work, so they called a white witch to come; she rubbed an egg all over my body to see how bad I was infected and when he was done, the egg looked as if it had been cooked. She said she had taken all the bad spirits and I will be protected from any evil as long as I keep a holy candle burning all throughout the day and night. Boy I never thought a simple blissful night as that silvery night would haunt me forever.
I liked how you incorporated imagery and vivid descriptions in your fictional story. It was quite peculiar how you mentioned the “white witch” and how she “rubbed an egg all over [your] body.” You are quite creative with your imaginations.
I concur with Vicky. Your very creative when it comes to the creative blogs! I love how you have fun with it and use your imagination with this story. It was really good! good job beezzy! :]
Life is always interesting and inspiring
But sometimes everything is not seen as we wish
Life can be tough and hard to pass through
As people get older and older
They have more things that they are responisble for
So enjoy the life time you have at this moment
Think about the future later
And not wish that it can pass by quickly
Because you may regret when the time finally arrives
At the end, human would rather stay as a child than become a adult
Inspired by "A stroke left the grandfather paralyzed..." when the grandfather was telling the grandson that he is stupid for wishing his life can pass by immediately for ten years. I know that life can get harder as people get older. So I feel that we should enjoy the life time we have right now and not think about things that we do not need to care at this point. Also, do not expect better things in the future because nothing is guaratee.
This is so very true, we should enjoy every minute we have at the moment. The future is what you make out of the present. Just one more week and we will all be leaving high school, therefore we should enjoy every second we have left. This is very good and really interesting to read! GOOD JOB!
A bit pessimistic but quite realistic on the other hand.
Not sure if just getting older in years means ageing or what ?
Wisdom is supposed to be gained with age and then what ?
Maybe we all need a mellower world for starters ?
As the years went on and on, the boy got older and older. Each night doing the duty he convinced himself was necessary. Every night it become harder and harder to do, he was getting bigger and the house was getting older. He was almost caught a couple of times. He would make an accidental movement, and his mother would stir. Freezing in action, he would pray that she wouldn’t see.
The years continued to pass, he was married now, with a baby girl. He confided in his wife. Telling her all that he had done, she told him he was a fool that no good could come of his actions.
“You have to tell her, you can’t keep sneaking out every night,”
“I cant, it’ll crush her”
“And what happens if you get caught? You don’t think that will crush her?”
“Please stop, I’m making her happy, that’s all I’ve ever wanted”
“I think you’ve made her happy enough.”
He finally decided it was time to tell his mother, he couldn’t do this anymore. The lies were killing him. He had carried this burden long enough. It was time for his happiness. It was a Sunday morning; his mother had come for Sunday brunch. He pulled her aside. He told her he had something important to tell her, that what he’d done, he’d done out of love. He told her fast and couldn’t look in her eyes. When he was done, he looked at his mother. She was staring at him in disbelief.
“I only did it for you.”
Looking up at him, she had tears in her eyes; she half smiled and took him in her arms.
“I love you son, bless your soul”
What the boy had feared, turned out to be nothing, his mother wasn’t upset, wasn’t crushed but glad, glad to know that she had raised a wonderful son. The day was brighter then any he’d ever seen. The dark cloud was gone from his life, and he could finally look at his world with a clear mind.
I chose this story because this is the story I enjoyed. And I wanted to create an ending that I wanted to see. It would be sad if after all the boy had done for his mother, she’d be upset with him. I think this is something any of us would do. He did this because he wanted to keep his mother’s faith. I think all of us want to see our loved ones happy, and this boy did what it took.
I love the endings that people are making to these Vignettes. This is a great ending to this because you also made a connection with Rivera's idea on fear. This is very well thought out with simple insightful wording. Great writing!
Ten years pass swiftly in the eyes of the boy. Now he was a man of twenty, the age of new beginnings. He was ready to face his mother and tell her the secret he had kept throughout the years. It wasn’t going to be easy, but he would say it anyway, just to get it off his hairy back.
It was a bright sunny morning. It seemed like a day to tell his mom “the secret.” He wonders how he is going to say it. “Hey mom I drank your cup of spirits.” Nope that doesn’t sound professional. He doesn’t want to distress her poor little soul; especially now that she is getting old. For the rest of the day, he will just lay back and think of what to say and then tell his mom when she comes back from work.
“Hey mom how was work?”
“It’s the usual, nothing new.”
“Um…Mom? I want to tell you something that I will surely regret.”
“What is it”?
“Well… I don’t know how to say it.”
“Well, spit it out son. It won’t hurt.”
“Okay mom. When I was just a boy, do you remember when you would always find the cup of water empty in the morning?
“I drank the water, not the spirits”.
It was suddenly silent, not even a cricket could be heard.
“I had to say it mother. It has been bothering me for ten years straight. I thought it would be better to tell you when I was older, like now.”
“You could have told me earlier, it wouldn’t have changed a thing. Besides, I stopped believing in the spirits right after you turned twelve. What kept me going all this time was you, not the spirits.
“So…..you aren’t angry at me for doing that?”
“No dear, I forgive you.”
The man who used to be a boy felt like a new being had emerged from his body. He was relieved that his mom didn’t have a heart attack.
This is my conclusion for Vignette #1. I chose this story because it seemed like it would be fun to finish off which it was.
Sounds like a Jessica Story alright. You just had to mention the hairy back thing! It's dramatic with a touch of humor. Very creative for such a tall girl with a big soul. You said you didn't understand the stories but I guess you understood this one. Good job on making these sad stories into something more. Well written old wise one. hehe
I really like your story Jessica! Hahah my favorite part was "I drank your cup of spirits," that really made me laugh . Very creative story and I like how you kind of took the character from vignette #7 and applied it to the story that you wanted to use.
I was hoping that someone would make a conclusion to this one. It's the shortest vignette and it's really interesting how you ended it. I'm glad that you made it positive. Great Job!
It was about three years ago when my cousin left for Africa for the peace core. By the way things are going over there I didn't know if he would ever come back or be the same. He would call twice a week to tell us how he is doing but towards the end his calls came less and less. We then found out he contracted malaria and most of the time he didn't have the strength to go to the nearest phone. Since malaria is foreign to us we didn't know the effects of the disease.
"What's wrong aunt?"
"...It's just... I haven't heard from him for 6 days and he's usually so good about calling..."
"I'm sure something happened his phone and he'll be calling anytime."
-Sure enough it was him but didn't sound like him, this voice was tired and beaten. Next thing you know my aunt bursts into tears. Later I found out he got malaria and was deathly ill. We didn't know when he would come back or if he ever would because we had no knowledge on the disease and being in the middle of poverty stricken Africa getting medical aid wasn't so easy. The loneliness that my aunt felt; not knowing any answers, is sort of like the pain the mother felt in Vignette #2
I'm sorry to hear you had to go through that with your aunt. These little stories can become reality any day. As long as we keep our heads up and hopes high, we can make it through the toughest of times. This Vignette and your story had me cherish my memories that I still have now because I know some time in the future it wont be the same status.
That is a truly powerful message. It's interesting how fast life can be quickly taken or given to us. Your family is an example of that. The knowledge of not knowing whether your son will die or live on is unbearable and shouldn't be a pain that any parent should go through. The pain of seeing your son buried instead of your son seeing you buried would be an endless pain. I hope your aunt never has to go through that.
Conclusion to Vignette #4
"Well it matters everything to me!"
"How come? you ask... We are Chicanos we do not stand a chance in this world."
"It is people like you that allow this to happen, if we all try and take advantage of our opportunities, we can be the reason for those ones on top to fall!"
"You sound so foolish! Do you understand what you are saying right now?"
"Yes I do, I am going to take advantage of everything I can, I am going to try my best in school. Everything and anything that comes by my way whether it is a trade or a new word I will try to learn."
The little boy chuckles, "Not a chance!"
"When I grow older and wiser, I'll come back to visit you. I may not be the richest Chicano ever, but I will be considered to be a wealthy man. Boy, I can't wait to see how bad you turn out to be!"
More people should have this attitude because this would actually get you somewhere in life rather then just staying at the same place. Though I'm wondering what inspired you to write this piece? Is this what you were like when you were younger? or are you portraying an situation?
This was really good. If more children had an attitude like that we would see less drop out rates.
This was really good. If more children had an attitude like that we would see less drop out rates.
The boy in your conclusion to the story has such a positive attitued and seems so determined to succeed. I think anyone, no matter where they come from, can make it with this attitude and drive.
I really like your conclusion to Vignette #4. I like how it shows that instead of just allowing things to happen, he takes matters into his own hands to make a better future for himself.
Haha just as short as it was I agreed with everything you said. I think we should grab everything we have at our reach (don’t get me wrong I know that kind of sounded bad) but as many chances we get the more successful we can be. People who never try, never succeed and victory is for those brave enough to pursuit it. I can see you are one of those persons, and it is evident that you have achieved much (not because you are on the football team), but because you seem to be someone happy with what he has and is proud of it, be it a lot or nothing. Someone happy with him/herself is truly admirable. A man is not remembered for his money, but by his legacy. (And women too )
Ok this blog was pretty intense. But when I read it I really could see a conversation this way. Your made it very real and I enjoyed seeing a conversation for once on how a Chicano can actually feel. Good JOb!
Conclusion to Vignette #1
Sixty years have gone by and now the grown man sits next to his dying mother and builds up enough courage to tell her his faults as a young child.
“Mother, I will always love you and I will not leave this chair until you have met Jesus up there in heaven.”
“Son, I feel pretty good so I’d recommend going home to your wife and kids and being a good dad instead of spending all your time with me.”
“Fine, but I will be back tomorrow to visit you.”
“Okay I love you son…”
“I love you too mom. Oh…before I leave….”
“I have a confession to make…it’s something that has been bothering me my whole entire life…I’ve just never had enough courage to bring it up.”
“What’s the matter?”
“Well, remember when I was a child and you used to put a glass of water underneath your bed every single night?”
“Yes…I remember those days.”
“Well, it turns out that I was drinking the water every night…not the spirits.”
“HA HA HA HA HA HA!!”
“What’s so funny mother!?”
“It’s just that…that was toilet water…I wanted to get rid of the evil spirits that filled our home.”
“No wonder I threw up so often as a kid…”
Mother ended up living for another 10 years and the son finally realized that it’s not good to lie to your parents.
I found this really funny. haha. i liked how you turned this piece into a humorous one. good job.
I can't help but feel sorry for this kid. Interesting spin on a fairly serious vignette, but it definitely made me laugh out loud. Perhaps the mother knew all along what her son was up to?
Inspired by "One afternoon a minister..." This is how I believe Rivera would continue this story.
Within the first days of the following week was hard. The workers are disappointed with what happened nevertheless they returned to their normal routine. Work, work, work, sleep, work, work everyday at the farm in the same fields with the same type of luck. Days turned into weeks, weeks became months, soon enough the workers began to grow old. Fewer workers are around now because many of them gave up trying or decided to suicide. The others were severely sick from eating the new experimentation corn.
Earlier the workers had tried to invent a new way of earning more money by changing the way they planted their corn. They wanted people to see that they are able to produce knowledge without the help of another. They just wanted some respect and faith. Though their corn had a few errors, many of the workers had faith this new plan would follow through. Still, useless. The workers returned to work, this time with less faith then what they had started with.
Rivera always enjoys to send the reader on a roller coaster of having hope at one point then the next no hope at all. For example "The Night Before Christmas"
Hey Anna! I love your piece. Your choice of words created a dramatic piece. It is disappointing when you have a plan that doesn't go to well. Many people probably face this type of situation. I guess the only way to avoid disappointment is to keep on trying. Your story completed the "One afternoon", and it was very emotional indeed.
I do agree about what you said on how Rivera puts you on a rollercoaster. But (in my very opinion). I don’t think the workers would have been disappointed. How I have seen people are in Mexico, they swallow their pride, and basically NEVER accept someone has been smarter than them. They would have returned to work as if nothing had happened, some weird way of doublethink. However if they ever met the minister’s wife again or the guy who ran out with her, let’s say the portrait story ended up short. However, I grew in a little different environment where my friends and I would not be afraid of making mistakes. Of course we would laugh (most of the times if you ever meet a Mexican, s/he will make fun of anything s/he can) but we would give support as well to each other, and if you admit you are wrong or that you don’t know the answer to something, you might even learn something!
A Silvery Night continued ..
There is no devil, there is nothing.
That night I slept more peacefully then any other night. I had nothing to fear.
The next morning I felt like there was a new meaning for everything.
I had one life to live and this was it. Of course there was punishment.
I would pay for my crimes in the present because there was no afterlife.
There was no heaven above me, no hell below me.
Oddly, this did not bother me.
My life changed drastically and I wouldn’t say for the worst.
I had found tranquility within myself.
your story is exactly how i would have ended it b/c i feel there really is no "him". well i mean if you are with a religion then you cant see him, i guess its safe to say your soul is safe. i think their is not heaven to the boy becasue thier is no hell. nothing on the bottom or above of higher power to the boy. He finds himself at ease with the situation...im proud of your post....
I like the way you put a positive and peaceful ending to that story. That is the way that I thought and hoped that it would end. Great job!
As I wait in line at petco, excited for my new puppy I can not help but notice the old women in front of me. Her clothes look old and not washed, her hair was not brushed, and she smelled like she used perfume to cover up her odor. The woman was struggling putting her cat food on the counter. When the cashier told her the price I noticed she was short a few dollars, I immediately took out a few dollars and handed it to her, when she turned and thanked me she said it is either me or the cat. At that moment I just felt horrible I did not know what to say. This woman was spending the only money she had to buy her cat food. I tried to think what I would do if that was me; would I make sure my cat has food or me? I could not think of what I would do because having a pet that you truly love you do not want to see them suffer. Instead of the woman giving her cat to someone or having it be a stray cat she put it first.
This story was inspired by Vignette #8 the way the child gives his button to the teacher is like the woman buying the cat food. He knows he doesn’t have many shirts but he decided ruin his to help someone else.
I think your story is very interesting and it makes me wonder if i could do that, give my last amount of resources to someone else because I loved them so much. It takes a very compassionate person to put others in front of yourself in such tight situations.
It is truly inspiring to know that people still exist in our world today in that mold. The selfless, sacrificing kind. That woman is a hero in my eyes. With the ability to sacrifice herself for an innocent animal, who probably would die without her care, is a selfless act that is very inspirational and positive for our world today.
I have always thought about what my mom said and how that was the greatest show of love I have ever heard. My aunt had breast cancer years ago, she had the cancer removed and the surgery was successful she was cancer free. A few years later she was becoming noticeably thinner, she went to the doctor and found out that the cancer had come back, and since she had not been going to her checkups it has spread.
My aunt has always been my mom’s best friend, they tell each other everything. My mom and my aunt were both devastated. As my aunt grew weaker and weaker my mom became more and more upset. It was very obvious that my aunt was very tired and losing her battle against cancer. She was struggling to be here to take care of everyone she loved, me, my mom, and her wife Laurine. One day my mom went to her and she told her
“ I love you so much, I know you are struggling to stay alive for everyone still here and I want you to know that I love you and that it is okay if you are ready to die, It will be hard but we will take care of Laurine and I know that you will always be watching over all of us and you have my blessing.”
My aunt just burst into tears, and I though that that was the most amazing thing I have ever heard. I think that the biggest sacrifice and show of love is being able to let someone go and give them your blessing to be able to so in peace. I always look up to my mom for saying this and hope that someday I will be strong enough to be able to do the same thing.
This was inspired by the book as a whole but mostly Vignette #8 the boy sacrifices his only button because he loves the teacher just like my mom told my aunt that it was okay to go if that’s what she needed to do. Right now my aunt is actually doing a bit better but is still very ill, she is gaining a bit of weight and heading in the right direction.
This was touching Melissa. It must take a lot of courage to post something from your life like this. I hope your aunt gets better, I wish her nothing but the best.
oh snap i spelled your name wronge...my badness and please forgive me b/c i do hate it when people spell my name wrong....sry
True! i agree with nickola..iknow things that personal are not always as easy to share as people think...im working on being more open and your post has given me a push in the right directiom.... oh and nice SMileY
It is easy to hang on to someone. As you get older it turns harder because you don’t want to get hurt. But it will never be compared to how hard it is to let go. I admire your mom, and you for sharing something so special with us. We will all leave sometime, and the only comfort in that moment (in my opinion) would be to be able to leave happily surrounded by the people you love. Thanks for reading my posts! I really appreciate your feedback Small gestures are what make up a life of greatness.
They were walking home from town after a day of running errands. It was a nice day, and his mother seemed relaxed and rid of her worries, so he decided to tell her.
"Mother, remember when I was a boy, and you used to leave the water for the spirits?"
"Why yes, yes I do. How do you remember that? That was quite a long time ago."
"Well, I've been meaning to tell you something about that."
"What is it?"
"The Spirits were never drinking the water. I was, the whole time. I kept doing it so you could continue to believe the spirits were looking after us. I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry son. What, did you not think I noticed?"
"What? You knew I was drinking the water? Why didn't you say anything?"
"My son, I know you. I knew what you were doing, and it just touched my heart that you would do that, showing such care for me. I never had the heart to tell you that I knew, I was just happy that you would even care."
"But what about the spirits? Doesn't that mean they were never looking after us?"
"I believe they still were. Just in a different way... You were looking after me, and thats all that matters."
This is a conclusion to Vingette #1
I really like your conclusion to Vingnette 1. It is interesting how instead of the boy disappointing the mother you let her keep her faith even though she knew the spirits were never drinking the water at night. I really like this positive ending.
I love this piece! I think it is so creative and has a really nice ending. Good job!
I think the way you ended the Vignette was really good. I enjoyed reading it. Good Job.
This is so cute! im sure thats how it wouldve turned out if she really found out. Mothers know too much about their children to not know that he was drinking the water the whole time! good job
hahaha so many people did this one! but good job on it, i like the deep dialogue.
I can almost remember the exact moment I stopped believing in Santa Claus. It was a long time coming, and I was starting to catch on more and more as the years passed. I didn’t want to believe it wasn’t true, I wanted Santa to be real; I didn’t want to lose my innocence. I would even leave little notes to him and hope he would respond, but I recognized my mom’s handwriting. One Christmas eve I couldn’t fall asleep, I was too excited, and I could hear my parents lugging all of our presents into the living room under the tree, talking about how they thought it was so cute how my brother wanted to bake more than one kind of cookie to leave for Santa so he would be happy and leave more presents. I guess I knew all along, but I didn’t want to accept it. But this night I couldn’t deny it any longer. The next morning was still exciting, I mean the room was full of presents, but it wasn’t the same. The magic was gone and they weren’t from Santa. Even though my dad cleverly would write on the labels from Rudolph or Santa Claus, he still does that on my presents even until this day, I guess he didn’t want me to lose my innocence either.
The magic of Christmas will never be quite as magical as it was when I was little and would try and look up in the sky to see if I could see Santa’s sleigh among the stars. But I have three younger siblings who still thought Santa would somehow fit down our chimney. And every time they ask me if Santa is real, I lie. I tell them he is real and he is in the North Pole right now making our toys and checking his list. I don’t want them to lose their innocence just yet, I don’t want to spoil the magic for them. I want them to keep their hope alive.
Inspired by Vingnette One and "The night before christmas"
I remember when I found out Santa wasn't real. I felt so lied to and deceived, but I am sure one day I will do the same for my children. I liked when you said he didn't want you to lose your innocence either. That is probably very true.
It was just past 0300 hours when I packed my things and snuck away from the tent. I don’t know why I was so persistent about running away, as if I had anywhere to go. Chances are I’ll probably be killed sooner than later, but I can’t take the guilt of shooting one more man. I’m sure my mama is worried about me, she always was the type who would follow my every footstep to make sure she was there to catch my fall; but here I am, bruised and wounded with nothing but this locket left. She gave it to me before I left. It’s got our picture in it, her favorite one from when I was just born. I put it on the same chain as my Virgen de San Juan del Valle medallion because I hope that between the two of them, one of them is bound to protect me.
I miss everyone a lot…but now that I’m gone I’m afraid I can never go back. I’ll never be able to face my neighbors or those damn racist kids, but worse of all- my family. As afraid as I was of fighting, I was more afraid of being a coward, a failure, a letdown. After finding refuge here in this tree for the past few days I’ve come to realize that I am nothing without my dignity- I must have left that behind in the tent. There’s nothing I want more than to go home to mama’s warm embrace and maybe a nice bowl of soup. I get more and more homesick every time I open up that silly locket. But all they ever care about is the hero; nobody wants to see a coward. Home will never be the same after I’ve disgraced my family name.
-inspired by "The Prayer," but from the son's perspective at war.
Thanks a lot Lauren! I like yours too. You are very good with words and especially creating a new plot behind Julianito's eyes. It was very creative when you added the medallion which he does wear for protection. Your piece had voice and emotions which brought the story to life.
I hated school. It hurts to be stripped naked and inspected by the nurse for lice. The pungent smell of rodent killer permeated through my nose as the nurse slapped blobs of head lice treatment over my head. I cried and ran out, cursing God why he made me this way.
“Daddy, why do I have to attend School? White kids call me a stealer!”
“Son, it’s to prepare us. Someday, you will become a telephone operator and we won’t have to work in the fields anymore.”
“Is that so?”
“The poor can’t get poorer. God, please help him finish school so he can become an operator.”
Fifteen years have passed.
I still remember the day when my father once told me that there will always be an opportunity and future as long was we hope and pray. I have transformed into the person he wished I would become—a telephone operator. Only if he lived to this day, he would be so pleased to see that I can put food on the table for my family. Times have changed. No longer is there discrimination for Chicanos. Nobody suffers from the scarcity of water or the cruel experiences my family faced fifteen years ago.
Inspired by It’s That It Hurts and Vignette Four
This was really interesting and fun to read! I like how you talked about the person the boy was able to become after suffering through those horrible experiences. Good job!
-I love her a lot. She means everything to me.
-I love him a lot. But we need to wait a little longer
-I really want to be with her but right now we can’t
-I met someone the other day. He was very nice and a real smooth talker. And he asked me to the dance
-I wish what I heard wasn’t true. How could she do this after all the promises. We promised to be faithful to one another
-It’s all a misunderstanding. I love him. I really do. I just couldn’t resist.
-I can’t explain how happy I was to see her but all of a sudden the truth just started spilling out.
-We talked and ended up breaking up right then and there.
-She’s mine no matter what & she was going to pay
-I’m not his. He can’t tell me what to do.
-I will see to it that she will be with me or no one else
-I can‘t believe he would act like this. So, I slapped him
-I can’t handle this anymore. My life just feels so empty now
-I don’t know where he went he just left
-This won’t hurt any longer. After tonight, I will be gone. But truth is, I still love her
-I heard what happened. And it hurts to know that he will never know how much I still love him.
What happened next was more than we could all bear. It was the night the lights went out.
Inspired by The Nights the Lights Went Out. I wanted to capture their point of view.
Awesome! Betrayal hurts more than bullets and I see that through your story. Although, it is kind of sad that Ramon killed himself. Your piece was fun to read and I like how I can read in both of their views. Well done Amy, it came out really well.
This is really good. The theme of betrayal is really well shown here. I like how readers are able to interpret different poins of view instead of just Ramon's. Great work!
Yeah Ramon is a terrible man. I dont think that she really loved him like she said either. She was just leading him on, which is horrible because look where it got him. I like the thoughts that they have with eachother! makes it more dramatic!.
A good but sad story indeed. When one completely devotes themselves to one person and then gets betrayed, then they feel like their life has been a waste. But their are many different outcomes from this story that could've happend. Great insight of the drama.
I like this one! i liked how you wrote it in Ramon's perspective. I agree with the other people when i say that she was completely leading him on. good work!
betrayl is a horrible thing. when people lead people on just to get something need and then drop them i think that shows how selfish people are.
.....The parents whom pray to him and work under her....
“What his mother never knew that every night he would drink the glass of water that she left under the bed. “
The idea of protecting his mother beliefs seemed much more important than crushing years of what she thought she knew.
The thoughts of her happiness and reassurance of the spirits whom drank.
The water was pure and she is ended with the small thoughts of nothing because she does not know the truth.
“What he set out to do and what he did were two different things.”
The boy knew he was protecting her but he was also enabling her from reality.
She was never taught to go to school as we are today. No one ever told her not to be ashamed that she was poor and working from pay check to paycheck. She has no one to help her except the sprits whom give her a piece of mind.
A mother is left with peace and faith that will guide her to going the next day and the next.
“Then it all became clear to him and he went home to get his father.”
The boy knew he was no longer going to stand for the terms society assumed her would meet.
“They would spend the entire day inside the trailer. A week later they left without a word. They later learned that the man had run off with the minister’s wife.”
Looking for work was only half of the problem; finding an employer who would take a Chicano with out hesitation. The parents whom slaved away their lives left the young ones with the old. Tragedies happened and everything seemed to be getting worse when no one knew it could.
“And the poor kids, now orphans, never having known their parents. Why did God have to take them away?”
The God whom they have been praying to watch over them for ages now they question.
Questioning would take seconds but work would take all day; under the heat of her; mother nature.
“Every little while they would stop. At times they could barley breathe, then they would black out and they would become fearful of getting sunstruck, but they kept on working.”
They couldn’t afford to quit nor to be sick; so once again they worked under her hot heat.
“A four o’clock the youngest became ill. He was only nine years old, but he was paid the same as a grownup he tried to keep up with the rest.”
Each hand was kept tan from working under the sun, the perquisites were to pick veggies and carry. They can not afford not to and will seem ungrateful if they quit.
But as their parents and older siblings they went along working each day by day until another hand was ready to pick.
“And without even realizing it, he said what he had been wanting to say for a long time. He cursed God.”
God whom which they put their entire faith in. The same higher power they sleeked for protection against Korea’s soldiers (a prayer) and their own lives.
Life is what? After we see it and get a taste we have no choice but to embrace. The parents whom worked for under nothing still come home to see their children with a smile and are grateful.
I was inspired to write this piece through the main lines in the book whom have really stood out and have hit close to home. I can somewhat relate to these people whom are also the true essence of what this country was built upon. Citizenship or not; we are all just people trying to survive in the game of life. My God father is a second generation Chicano. His grandmother was from Mexico but his mother was born her and he was. To some Hispanics a Chicano is lower than them because they feel if you cant make it in Mexico than you are ungrateful. He has told me to many stories of his aunts and grandmother picking apricots in the field. I feel these people are more hard working than people we see as hard working. We work for money, to make a honest and decent living that in witch we hope to support out children with. Chicanos work to survive; at least the one whom work within the fields. It is an entirely different lifestyle and they save everything they have including keeping their families well knit. There are much more that are highly educated people and I am not trying to rob them from their well earned status but I am only addressing people as the ones in the book. The parents within the novel stood out to me because of the role models I have in my family who have been through the essence of being a Chicano.
great job on this blog post! you're so creative when it comes to these types of things! i really liked how you used the main lines from each stories thats impressive. also, i liked how you talked about your godparents...how they're second generation chicanos and everything..thats crazy! good work hun!
As I just turned twelve years old; i have just started to work. It was a chilly Christmas night and as my Father has given me five dollars to buy myself a nice meal, I walked to the meat shop and bought a nice steak.
As I saw the butcher volunterring preparing my steak, as it cooked nicely and hot on the grill; I started to realize all the hard working in the field has finally paid off to a good filling meal that I will be enjoying. As he marinated the steak with the famous luscious sauce and salt and pepper, my mouth started to drool. As I could already taste the serinading flavors in my mouth, I couldn't wait to go home and devour this meal.
As I left the store and holding the warm meat in my hands, the auroma of the freshly prepared meat, flying up through nose, I started to walk faster to start this delicious meal.
As I was a block away from my house in the cold freezing weather, I saw man on the side of the wall. Skinny with only two layers of clothes, shivering.
As I see the sight of my home just three houses away, I stopped; bent down and handed over my warm dinner to the man.
My reward wasn't deserving the meat from all the hard work that I have done, but was to sacrifice what I have craved for, for someone who really deserved it.
This is inspired by the vignette of "The teacher was surprised when...". As the boy gave up his button for the teacher; it was not for brownie points or to get the teacher's love, but to sacrifice ones belonging for others because he knew it was needed for the better. The better for the others and better for himself because of the feeling of knowing he has done a good deed of helping others.
That was probably the most inspirational piece of writing I've ever read of yours. It is funny how creative you can be when one puts their mind to something. It just goes to show, that you have the ability to write just as well as anyone here, you just have to put your mind to it. For someone to have a selfless act such as that is such a nice thought. The work that I put in today isn't so much for me, as it is for my kids in the future. I want to give them a life they deserve, a life that anyone should deserve. Working hard for something, and giving it to someone else is more fulfilling than eating that steak. Great work.
I concur. Nothing makes an instructor feel better than the knowledge that his learners are willing to push themselves to new heights, and it's been wonderful to watch you grow this semester.
This story is almost exactly like the boy with the button, but with just different objects and setting. But nonetheless, it's rare that we see what you just wrote, yet at the same time its good to feel the reassurance that maybe somewhere in our hearts that we could find to do the same. By just thinking this story out, almost proves that we could and can do the same as the boy in your story as well as in Rivera's.
"They just loved each other so much, don't you think?"
"No doubt. But my question is if they loved each other that much, why let it end that way. I mean, after all, wouldnt you want it to continue?"
"Yeah, i guess your right. What did he want to prove by killing himself?"
"I heard that his girlfriend started the spark in him when she started talking to this other fellow."
"so much for love there huh?"
"yea i know, kinda weird. Maybe she just didnt love him as much as he thought she did?"
"But when should've that lightbuld above his head have turned on telling him something was wrong?"
"Dunno, maybe true love darkens all other light."
"I also heard that this other fellow she was seeing wouldn't really leave her alone. I dont know how true any of it is, but maybe he kinda presured her into a relationship or something."
"That would be unfortunate. She still never did anything herself to end her relationship with Ramon."
"hmm. All their twisted wires that make up their lives sure lead to one electrifying relationship!"
Continuing the conversation at the end of "The Night the Lights Went Out"
Very very funny ending Trevor. I love when people incorporate comedy in their writing. It something that I don't see a lot. Great Job!
Hey! You did a great job in completing the conclusion for "The Night the Lights Went Out". The conversation had voice which made your piece sound realistic. I like it a lot! The ending was very creative.
Haha I love that ending. That is a really clever way to end it. Also I like the style you wrote it in just totally conversation. Really great job!
This is a good ending and it makes sense. You are really good at writing dialouge. This ending gives people a better feeling when the story ends.
WOW! yeahh i like this. i did this story for my essay. I feel the same way about the ending. i think she was just pressured into loving Ramon. she didnt really love him the way that he loved her. she lied the whole time. and i like it when you said true love darkens all other light. Sounds cool. haha
I like how they talk about true love when if they wouldve have thought about Ramon's true feelings then none of this would have happened. but this is really good.
One night, when he thought his mother was sleeping, the little boy drank that water as usual, not noticing that his mother was watching through the door crack. The next day, as usual, the boy found another glass of water under his bed and he drank it. This routine continued for years and years until the boy was about to move out. Knowing that what he had to tell her would break her heart and her faith, the boy grew nervous as his departure grew nearer and nearer. Packed and ready to go, the boy knew he had to confront his mother. He told her how he had drunk the water for years and years. He said how sorry he was for disillusioning her. She stood there silent and he began to feel sick. She finally let out a smile. She told him how she knew all about it.
Inspired by Vignette #? “ What his mother never knew…”
lol this is cool. Dont really get it but hey! it was worth the try! haha its just like explaining the story in easier terms.
Inspired by the father from "The Little Burnt Victims"
Thanks to me, and my ability to alter the thoughts of my wife, my youngest offspring are dead. I dont really know what came over me, i just figured that they would be able to handle themselves while we were gone at work. Im not quite sure what happened, but it just devistates me that i taught them this, and look where it gets me, no where. Yeah, people keep telling me that everything is going to be ok, and that they are in a better place now but no. I do not agree. They should still be here with me today. Now, they wont need to defend themselves, so pretty much, this trajedy happened which is now irrelevant to what i taught them. I can only blame myself. I shouldve listened to my wife.
This is interesting that you decided to write about the father praying about his kids. i would have never thought to do something like this. so i applaud you.
Wow that is really hard hitting and honest. I agree that the father should probably feel that way, when i read that story i thought that was a horrible thing to teach to your children and force them to fight. Good job capturing the emotion.
After all the debris had settled and the bodies tagged and bagged, a little girl remained. One little girl, standing on the side of the road searching. She could not speak but she had this look in her eyes. A look of fear. Fear of not knowing what was going on. All she could remember is that her mother told her to stay in the car while she went talked to a man about a dog. She was so excited to see what dog her mom was getting. The little girl was disappointed when her mother came back, she had nothing in her arms butting she was stumbling out of the doors of what she thought was a pet store. That’s when the clock four.
Inspired by The lost year and a little before six...
That seems like something Rivera would write himself. Never really explaining how it ending and leaving it up to the reader. I really like your style. Very good job.
The kids were sleeping by the time I stepped out
I had to go to work that day with my husband
I would do my normal routine every morning
I would think about them constantly while I was working
One of my friends told me that they saw flames from the farm
I hoped for the best, I was praying that all of them would make it out alive
Then I saw my oldest making it out alive
The others weren’t saved
My oldest son told me that it was an accident
He had rubbed too much alcohol on their body
One thing led to another and they were caught in fire
Some how the pair of gloves never got burnt up
It was safe on the floor, the fire couldn’t destroy them
I will never get over what happened
I will never forget it
I couldn’t look at my oldest son that way anymore
Inspired by “The Little Burnt Victims”
I think this was a cool way of making the mothers point of view. This story is one of my favorites because it shows a lot about how families truly suffer. Good JOB! I liked it a lot.
A Prayer is answered . . .
When he returned home, he expected a big welcome home party with all of his family and friends . . . as he was driving by the town he saw that, nothing had changed and everything was still the same. An older gentleman was getting kicked out of the barbershop and an old lady being taking by security. He sighed and glanced at all that the stores and homes that went by, they looked older and worn down by the elements. The Chicanos working in the fields gave him a nostalgic feeling. His house was approaching his house and was eager to finally reunite with his mother after a long time in Korea. The house didn’t look like the home he remembered before he left. It looked like nobody had lived in it for a couple of years. He knocked on the door expecting his mom to open it . . . but he heard no one. He called out for his mom “MOM WHERE ARE YOU! It’s your son” he was left without option but to break into his own home. He came in through the window like when he was young and stuck outside sometimes. When he examined the interior, he was shocked at the amount of dust inside the house. He thought to himself “my mom wouldn’t even let a spec of dust fall on her pictures let alone the whole house” as he entered through the rooms he began to remember the old days when he’d run around the house and his mom would get angry cause he almost broke something that she valued a lot. As he entered his mom’s bedroom, he spotted a letter on top of his mother’s pillow. He opened it and began to read the words written in RED . . . As he progressed through half of the letter he stopped and turned his head away with tears crawling down his cheeks. He couldn’t believe what he had read and he was feeling guilty for what he had done to, in his opinion “force” his mother into this situation. But just then he raised his head with a sliver of hope still in his mind, he knew his mother was wise and always had a reason for whatever she did. So he kept on reading with a new paradigm in his mind. He began to shift his facial muscles and as he finished the letter, he began to cry once more, but this time with a slight smile on his face. He knew that his mother had every intention of wanting her son back home and being able to live and continue living, and she would have done anything to bring him back home.
Inspired by A Prayer.
This is inspired by "A Prayer"
Over the years my house has started to resemble a dog hospice. At one point within the span of five years we had a total of eight dogs check in but never check out. Don't take this the wrong way, we don't beat our dogs or neglect them or do anything else that one would see on animal cops these problems were genetic. Problems varied from being born without a heart valve to terminal cancer, we even had a dog have a brain aneurism while standing on our picnic table.
There was one dog in particular that has always stood out in my mind, she was the only dog over those years that didn't die a natural death. I remember the day we got her just as well as the day we lost her. We had lost our previous dog about a month prior and a friend offered to give us her dog. She was an Australian Shepherd that the owner had originally wanted to use in the show ring but couldn't because she was so timid. We agreed to take her and she brought her over the next morning. The owner took her out of the truck and the dog immediately ran underneath it and hid while we all talked.
For the next two years we, Tease and I, spent every moment getting to know each other. I found that Tease was able to read people's emotions way better than any dog I had ever met, she slept on my bed every night and everyday I would get home from school run over to the side gate and let her out to play on the front lawn. One day I went over to the gate and she wasn't standing there waiting for me. I honestly wasn't too worried because I figured my sister, Kim, had just taken her to the barn. My sister came home crying a few hours later, without Tease. She explained that she had taken Tease out on trail with her while she rode her horse, someone had shot a few rounds at an abandoned shooting range and it echoed through the whole canyon, the horses spooked, and Tease, being as timid as she was, took off. Kim searched for hours with no avail. For the next two weeks we went to every humane society around looking for her, we put up HUGE signs everywhere but no one called.
About a month later the phone rang, my mom answered, listened for a moment then her whole face dropped. Animal control had picked up a black-tri Australian Shepherd on the median at Santa Anita and Hacienda. She had been hit by a car and killed on impact. They asked us to come down and make sure it was our dog. My dad went because neither my sister nor I could bear to see our mangled pet that we had loved so much. He returned a few hours later with her blood stained collar and a box of ashes.
We buried her ashes in the back yard and planted a rose in her honor.
I wake up to find
I'm lost in my sleep
and I wake up to find
my dreams that I have, I can't seem to keep
and I need it to change
and I breathe in
here's my chance to find home
this is where I find meaning
I just don't want to stop this
even though my purpose isn't clear
and I'll just take what I can get
taking every chance for me to get there
The days and nights become one
laying under comfort, away from the sun
hoping no one will find me now
then fading away becomes idyllic somehow
and then it becomes clear
that what is happening, makes me feel
like I'm floating on air
And this emptiness I found
is keeping me off the ground
Then I think of hope,
It's the light that burns the unfaithfulness in me
It's a blinding light,
and yet it's something clear I can see
between this darkness and the light
my soul takes flight
and my body takes the sky
and I realize that I'm free
something awakens inside
my greatest gift is being alive
For the first time, I feel something amazing in my life
heaven is lucid and everything's right
I realized I never lost anything at all
and now I am caught up in this tide What a good life
to learn about my world, and what a wild ride
I realized I never lost anything at all
Inspired by "The Lost Year" and "Under the House"
same flow and junks
Thinking you're lost, and finding yourself.
"To discover and rediscover and piece things together"
This is absolutely beautiful. You were able to bridge the two stories incredibly well into a stunning poem. I could say that this could easily be turned into lyrics, and I imagine a nice acoustic guitar accompaniment.
On a Friday afternoon it was just another day in Mike’s life. Mike worked at his father’s deli because his father wanted him to follow in his footsteps. Although Mike despise following in his father’s footsteps, he felt like he must because his older brother recently passed away.
As the day slowly went on, the father kept giving him lessons on meat cuts and where to store it in the walk-in freezer. The father kept screaming at Mike because he could not be as good as his brother. Frustrating as it was, Mike sucked it up and went on with the lessons. Mike’s father was really specific in where to store the meats, therefore the spent the majority of the time back in the freezer.
A couple months later Mike finally learned everything his father had to offer. Mike ran the store a couple of times but failed miserably every time. He gave pork cuts instead of beef and he gave beef cuts instead of pork. He locked himself in the walk-in-freezer and had to have a customer to open the door for him. He gave the wrong change to his customers. Everything that could go wrong did go wrong when Mike was running the place by himself.
One day while working with a customer Mike took 30 minutes just to find the right meat and it took him another 20 to cut the meat right. To make the situation even worse, Mike dropped the meat on the floor while giving it to him. This pushed the customer over the edge and caused him to pull out his gun and shooting Mike.
It was a random act of violence, but it opened Mike’s eyes and caused him to become a better person. When Mike’s wound healed he went back to work and became a great deli man and his father was proud. However, Mike still did not want to become a deli man but he did not want to disappoint his dad.
Mike’s dad went on vacation for a week and left Mike running the store. When the father came back, he could not find Mike. He walked to the deli just to see a closed sign in front but the door unlocked. The father went around asking if they have seen his son, but they all thought that they all went to vacation together.
A week passed and Mike was nowhere to be found. As sad as the father was he still had to work. He walked to his deli and walked into the freezer to take out the meat. The father walked into the freezer finding his son lying on the ground… frozen.
Couple of weeks earlier when Mike was still alive, he walked into the freezer to take out the meats. However, just like in the past he locked himself inside the freezer. Now usually he would just wait for someone to walk in so he would start banging on the door in order for them to hear him. Someone would have helped Mike only if they knew the deli was unlocked but no one tried opening the door when they saw the “closed” sign in front.
Now the father lost two sons instead of one because he wanted someone to follow in his footsteps.
Inspired by the little burnt victims!
Sitting in an empty isolated cell. Bars seperating him from the rest of the world. But how did he get here? He stood no chance to fight against the world around him. He became trapped in a world of gangs, drugs, and violence. It wasn't that he should have done something to prevent his situation, it's that he couldn't.
He was the most caring and dedicated person I knew. Always sticking up for his friends, providing for his mother and siblings. But outside of all of that he still couldn't change the sterotype society placed him under. I always asked him why he never tried harder to change or escape that world he was a part of, but all he ever responded was "There's no point. I am what I am." I saw him as brother, with a kind heart willing to give up anything for those he loved, but to society he was nothing more than a screw up. He was labeled from the minute he was born. A poor hispanic family living in "the ghetto", surely he wouldn't amount to anything. I tried to help but there was really nothing I could do. No jobs would accept him because of his record, at school he was paid no attention to because teachers saw no use in helping someone who to them probably wasn't going to make it very far. His family struggled just to get by. He was forced to grow up very young and fend for himself, harden by the surronding society. He was never given a chance. For the last two years that i've been visiting him in jail he asks how i'm doing in school and if i'm staying out of trouble. "Don't ever lose hope." The part that hurts me most is that he lost all hope for himself.
Inspired by Vignette #4. The child lost hope for anything more and sucombed to the label that society placed on him.
Why are we here?
Why are we suffering?
Why have you taken my aunt and uncle away?
Why is my dad getting worse?
Why is my youngest brother ill?
Why are you doing this?
Why don’t you care about us anymore?
Why do you bury us in the dirt?
There is no devil.
There is no soul.
There is no afterlife.
There is no God.
The earth did not devour me.
One day it will, but I will be long dead by then.
Inspired by “…And the Earth Did Not Devour Him”.
this is really good. the boy truly feels that way and it is really sad because there is nothing he can do.
The boy in the story lose all of his hope, and leave God. He feel like God is not being fair to him, and he does not feel like he deserve all the suffering and hurting. The way how he choose to lose all of his beliefs and hope is really depressing.
this is cool. it's very straightforward and to the point. i like it!
Hearing praises all around me, everywhere I turn I hear a comment towards my direction, yet it was not directed at me. Instead it was to the person next to me, my own brother. Everyone constantly repeats one after another, "Oh! What a nice boy" or "Your son is so well behaved". I sit there listening to their rant as my brother takes it all in himself.
But in my mind I felt that I could literally explode into bits at all the preposterous comments I hear. I say to myself, "They don't know anything". Not wanting to seem like a bad person, I kept quiet, out of the crowd listening to their ridiculous assumptions. I would always scoff to myself constantly when I hear the same words, the same lines, the same implication of how well-behaved this brother of mine is. Two hours later... the dinner finally ended and I couldn't wait to get out of there. Without a second thought, I zoomed out of the room and into the open sky for air. As the rest of the family walked out, my head turns and I subconsciously glare at the back of their heads in rage. I brush everything off so I wouldn't get judged by them, lowering myself on the behavior chart.
Days and days go by, and in each night arguments are heard throughout the dark sky. Inside I'm yelling at my brother to stay home and stop going out to party, but as always he would never listen to me. As siblings we would never rat each other out right? I've never done it before, as soon as my parents woke up they walk into my room asking for my brother. As if it were an instinct I would always cover for him wherever he went. It always confused me. Why did I always help him out by doing him a favor when he never returned it? Is it because he's family? Or is it cause I'm scared of what would happen to our relationship as siblings? I never gave into the pressure of telling, so maybe, just maybe, I'll never know.
Inspired by "Hands in his Pocket"
Conclusion to Vignette #9
Once they arrived to the recession, something was undeniably wrong; the yard was totally trashed all over. The stunned look on the peoples' faces showed how unsuspecting this event came across. The first sound they hear a few seconds after they arrive is the sound of the bride's loud, crying voice. Sorrow immediately fills the atmosphere with everyone rushing to the groom and bride. The men begin to clean up the mess, which looked to be caused by random thugs. The canvas tent, where the newlyweds were to be congratulated, was totally destroyed. The arranged wild flowers and pecan trees were torn off and on the ground. Everything that could have gone wrong basically happened. Then suddenly, a very surprised look appeared on the bride's face. She remembered the night before when she snuck off with her best friend's husband in the middle of her bachelorette party…..her best friend was the missing bridesmaid.
Aww, did you really have to turn the only truly happy vignette in the entire book into a devastating one? Still, it gives food for thought; I do enjoy reading flipped stories such as this.
Dear mother, please do not cry. I have been away from home too many days now, maybe even weeks. I have not been able to write back to you because I fear I may be discovered by the VietCong. I have prayed to Jesus Christ to protect me on the battlefield, to save me from the gunfire. I am surely too young, too innocent to be thrown into war like this, may Jesus have mercy on my soul.
It has been too long since I have last seen you, and it pains me so to think of how you must feel. I hope you have not forgotten to care for my room while I have been gone. How long has it been since I was child, to play with that toy firetruck or the kite you taught me to fly. It has been so long since I have felt so happy, to not have to fear death from every direction as I had wandered aimlessly through this wilderness. My eyes burn with all the smoke from explosions, my nostrils filled with the stench of blood and wet soil, and my ears ring with the sound of constant gunfire as I lie here in my own blood, waiting to be rescued. I pray once again for water, as I have always prayed for every night before I slept. As long as I can dwell within the refreshment of a glass of water, I can relax and breathe for one more day. How many days has it been since I have laid here, without any food or water? Oh, it feels like it's been forever since I had any water; I lost my canteen a while back.
Oh mother, why does it have to be this way? I pray that Virgen de Guadalupe may save my heart and bring me back home. I am too young to die like this; my mother can not lose another man in her life. Father, it is too early to see you again, to leave mother behind all by herself...please let her be all right. Do not worry mother, I will be with you soon...
Inspired by "A Prayer" and Vignette #1
This is exactly the follow-up I wanted after "A Prayer." This is wonderfully written, and captures the voice of the son of a desperate mother well. It's nice to see a more solid conclusion to Rivera's extremely open-ended stories.
Conclusion to Vignette #5
After he went home, he told his father what the barber told him and ask his father why the barber could not cut his hair. His father told him that the barber is not a bad person, even though he did not cut his boy’s hair. Then it all became clear to him. The barber does not want to get himself and the boy into trouble, therefore the barber kindly ask him to leave. He then realized that the barber has done what he thought is right. Then it all became clear to him.
That boy over there. He looks very lost doesn't he? I can tell by the way he holds his hand out. See how he curls it towards his body? Yes, he is a troubled boy; very troubled at that. But he is happy. No more hunger. Oh yes, that is what he was afraid of. But no more. Don't worry little one. Oh, there he goes. Do you see him floating up there? No? Well, I see him very well. There he goes. Blending in with the clouds? There; now he is gone. Was he ever here? I don't know.
Inspired by "The Little Burnt Victims"
oops! this was supposed to be a comment to michelle's post!!! sorrrryy.
This was so simple. I loved it. People write so much, and your the perfect emaxple that less is more. You followed Rivera's theme, you rolled on what he wrote, and you did it well. I really liked reading this it has so much meaning. Good job michelle, I like your thinking!
This was so simple. I loved it. People write so much, and your the perfect emaxple that less is more. You followed Rivera's theme, you rolled on what he wrote, and you did it well. I really liked reading this it has so much meaning. Good job michelle, I like your thinking!
after all the trials and tribulations i went through, my aunt , uncle, mom, dad, and little brother i still feel anger. i mean i thought it would go away when i cursed God but it still comes back. every time i think of the work that i go through the heat i endure and the pain of my back when i am bent over all day working in the fields. some days i have good thoughts and am grateful of my family getting better but i cant keep the bad thoughts out of my head the boss always yelling and never thanks us after a good days work. one day i just want to have him work picking strawberries and me yelling at him and never giving him cold water and never caring if he has a sun stroke.
why does the world not care about the poor if i were them i would help them out not even God cares if there is one: i wonder if life will get better? and if it does will i remember where i came from? my mother always tells me to speak right about god and never question his will, but if he cared so much why does he not tell me himself. if god cared about us so much why did he hurt my family? why didn't he make us a different, or rich and never having to worry about heat or thirst? well my mother does not have the answer who does maybe only God knows.
inspired by and the earth did not devour him
I was inspired by the courage and perseverance of the young man who,
despite fears and bias, is able to throw a light on both a
vital and a critical part of the USA today; that is the various groups
that are counted as latino, hispanic, chicano and so on.
El Reseliente, the indomitable lion roars
once his true nature known.
like, that, I am coming back.
like a fog suddenly lifting, things become clearer
and simpler to know what' s what,
but not only that,
there' s even more in store.
the middle years were never that affable but grind it out,
I did not mind. and so I am very grateful and also
very humbled to be where I am today.
so lesson learned: patience is it' s own reward but
now I must stop to take another look inside.deeply so .
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