Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Light Blue

Light blue swoops down and lifts me into it’s embrace,
And I am lost in memories,
Of clear lakes and cloudless skies. 
It is nameless and fleeting, 
Like a freshwater fish,
Darting swiftly through the current.
It sings a song of laughter,
Harmonizing with a bubbling creek. 
Nothing could anger it,
Or make it harden it’s soft shell.  
It swims in the streams,
Laughing the way only children know how to laugh. 
It holds on to it’s youth forever,
Never really growing up.
It is a collection of moments, 
Summer days that have never been forgotten. 

Candy Sky

Powder blue cotton candy,
Stretching outwards forever. 
It’s soft edges hug the horizon. 
Bits of white are strewn across it,
Clinging lazily to the heavens.
The lemon head sun sinks behind the hills,
And the puffs of sugar change. 
Blue pixie stick fades to the color of grape soda,
Vanilla to bubble gum,
And grey to a cherry cough drop. 
Beauty swarms over the sky,
A rainbow of sugary treats.     

A Wave

The damp sand hugs my feet,
Slipping between my toes.
A wave rushes in on me,
Seeming angry and upset. 
Its churning waters snarl at me,
Reaching to grab me and take me away. 
Its fluid blue arms are wrapped around me,
But there is no rage in its heart.  
It laughs merrily,
Cradling my tired legs. 
I can’t help but smile with it. 
The ocean takes a deep breath,
Pulling the wave back into its depths.
I run after it,
Yearning to hold it in my arms,
But it is already gone.                   

Moments Cherished

Young bird sings sweetly,
Chirps a song of summer days.
I cherish this tune.

Flame red sun rises,
Tearing away the darkness.
I cherish this light. 

Lemonade and ice,
Melting the thick heat away.
I cherish this taste. 

Sand beneath toes,
Comforting my weary feet.  
I cherish this feel. 

Fish cooked to delight,
Spiced with delectable herbs. 
I cherish this taste. 

Moments of pure bliss,
Glorious flashes of joy. 
I cherish these days.

Sunday, October 23, 2011


I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I really didn't. I had just come  home from school, and as I passed the door to my grandmother's room, couldn't help to overhear a hushed voice. It was strange, the way the voice rumbled throughout the house. It most definitely not my grandmother. 
Curious, I leaned in closer to the door. "You don't have much time, dearest... she is growing older... Soon, she will know." A shiver ran down my back. It almost sounded like the voice could be talking about me. My birthday had been just a few weeks ago.
A small, quivery voice murmured, "I know, father. She is growing up so fast. Too fast. But don't worry, dearest father. She will not see the truth. I have studied her for many years. I am telling you, the girl is not witty enough for us."
I stifled a scream. There was someone out there who was studying me, like an insect. I bit my lip, not sure if I really wanted to hear more. Before I could decide, the first voice began again, "Just be careful. You can't afford to mess up."
I couldn't take it anymore. I burst through the door, expecting to see two monsters carrying knives, but all I saw was my grandmother. She was sitting her chair, knitting a scarf while gazing out the window. "You should really be quieter, Evelyn. It's not polite to burst into someones bedroom like that." I rolled my eyes. Classic Grandmother Beatrice. Quick to point out flaws, as long as they weren't hers. She turned her head slowly, as if calculating something. It took about twenty seconds for her to fully look at me. When she did, I nearly passed out.
My grandmother's eyes were a sickly color of yellow. They were only like that for a moment before fading back to her normal shade of brown, but I had seen the yellow glint in her irises, if only for a second.
Old Beatrice looked alarmed by my fear. "What's wrong, dearest? Why do you look so frightened." Dearest. She called me dearest. I was scared out of my wits, but something told me not to tell her what I had seen. "I just remembered I-I..... um... I have a math test tomorrow, and I haven't studied at all."
She frowned at me doubtfully, but eventually muttered, "Well, get on it! I can't have you fail every class." My mind churned as I closed the door behind me.
I walked numbly to my bedroom, trying to process everything from the scary voices to my grandmother's yellow eyes. I wished I could climb into my mother's lap, but she was gone. She would never come back. I wished I could hold my daddy's hand, but he was gone too. All I had was my grandmother and her color-changing eyes. 
"Dinner!" she yelled. I trudged down the hall to the kitchen, and like always, I found her sitting at the table expectantly. I sighed, and got some frozen peas out of the refrigerator. I stuck them in the microwave, set it for three minutes, and tapped my fingers while waiting for my meal. 
My grandmother's eyes traveling up and down my body. I have studied her for many years. A chill ran down my body as I recalled the words of that thin wobbly voice in my grandmother's room. The microwave beeped three times, and I took the peas out of the oven, serving them to my grandmother and to myself. 
We ate dinner in silence. My grandmother's eyes did not leave me once, and I found myself trying to pretend I didn't notice. I stared at my peas as I ate them, trying to think of something else, but I kept hearing voices in my head, voices screaming, voices crying.
I finished my peas, and excused myself without a word. It was late, and I had the longest day of my life, so I went straight to my room and sprawled on my bed, exhausted. I lay there looking up at the ceiling, freaking out. I took out my journal, planning to sort out what had happened. I had come home after another mediocre day at school. There were strange voices in my grandmother's room. Someone was studying me. Someone had a secret. My grandmother's eyes changed color from chestnut brown to a pale yellow. And she didn't want me to know that her eyes changed color. I put my journal away, deciding that somethings just shouldn't be written down. 
I heard the soft padding of my grandmother's slippers as she walked down the hall. She stopped in front of my door, pushing it open with her frail old lady hands. I sat up straight as she said, "Goodnight Evelyn. Stay out of trouble." She warned, "Don't go where you are not wanted." She closed the door, and her footsteps got quieter as she walked to her room.
Don't go where you are not wanted. My mind was doing somersaults. My grandmother was trying to keep me away from something or someone. I was not sure if it was for my own good, or if she was hiding something. I was on the brink of something, something important. All I need to remember was where I wasn't supposed to go.
It hit me like a ton of bricks. The attic. I wasn't supposed to go in the attic. If my mind was doing somersaults before, now it was doing an entire acrobatic sequence. I lay back down on my bed, waiting for my grandmother's snoring to fill the house. I did not have to wait long. In a matter of minutes, the rumblings from her bedroom shook the whole house. I slipped into my robe and slippers and tip-toed out the door, careful to close it as quietly as I could.
I was full of foreboding as I climbed the ladder, and my heart skipped a beat at every rustle of the sky blue curtains in our living room. A little more dread was added to my collection every time I moved my foot to the next rung, and by the time my hand was on the trap door, I was about ready to turn back and hide under my blankets. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and flung open the trap door.
There was nothing in the room except for an old, dusty wooden chest. Despite the fact that the wood was completely intact, it let off an awful smell, like something rotting. My flesh began to crawl as I crept closer. Something was very wrong about the whole situation. I reached out my arm until the tips of my fingers touched the wooden box, and found that the layer of dust was practically an inch thick. My hand met a chunky iron lock, and I tugged on it to no avail. I was about to turn around when I remembered the bobby pin in my hair. I took it out and inserted it in the round hole, turning it with my all the strength I could muster. I heaved open the chest.
This time, I could not stifle my scream. It came out loud an clear, like a siren in a silent room. I was looking into the pale visage of my grandmother. She was undoubtedly dead.
A cold finger gripped my arm, and I slowly turned around, afraid of what I would find. Another scream rang through the house. Clutching my arm was a figure in a draping black cloak, with a hood drawn over their head, so I could not see there face. I could only see the eyes. They were a sickly color of yellow. "Goodnight, dearest." it murmured.

Monday, October 17, 2011

My Character

Character Questionaire

  1. Name: Jenna Ross Daniels
  1. Age: 28
  1. Height: short
  1. Eye color: grey
  1. Physical appearance: 
long, straight, light brown hair. Slight figure. Rosy cheeks. She's stunning, especially when wearing autumn colors.
  1. Strange or unique physical appearance: 
  1. Hobbies/interests: 
She always did well in school without acting nerdy or anything like that, but she didn’t like it. Even though she excelled in math, she found it to confining. There was always a right answer and a wrong answer. She’s the kind of girl who needs lots of space to do her thing. She love to draw pictures, especially graphic novels. She is spectacular at this, and wants to make her own graphic novel and get it published.
  1. Where does he or she live? What is it like there? 
She was raised in New York, in an apartment. She didn’t like living in an apartment very much. She went to college at University of Illinois, staying in an apartment with some friends, then moved to a suburb outside of Chicago when she got married. She stays home with Isabelle.
  1. Special skills/abilities: 
Besides being an outstanding artist, she is smart with computers, in a totally non-nerdy way.
10. Family (describe): 
She is married to Ryan Daniels. They were got married when she was 24, and he was 25. Ryan is now 29. Ryan is a lawyer. They are happy together. They have a two year old girl named Isabelle, who they absolutely adore. She has began to talk and walk and use a normal bathroom in the past year.
  1. Description of his or her house: 
She lives in a Chicago suburb. Her house is two stories, with a large backyard. It is painted white. On the first floor is the kitchen, (connected to the living room) the living room, the dining room, and the guest bedroom. The first floor also connects to the garage, and has one bathroom. The first and second floor are connected by one staircase that connects, on the first floor, to the area when you first open the door. When you get to the top of the stairs, there is another living space, with a Ping-Pong table. There are four doors coming out of there. One leads to Isabelle’s room, which looks like it someone took a bucket of pinkness and poured it all over the place. In the middle is a bed with Disney princess covers and a million different stuffed animals. She has her own bathroom connected. Another door leads to Jenna’s office, which is strewn with papers and sketches. In the center is a desk with a computer, and a swivel chair in which Jenna spends most of her time spinning. The other door leads to Ryan’s office, which is exactly like Jenna’s office except it is neat and organized, and the swivel chair is neatly tucked in. The last door leads to Jenna and Ryan’s room.
  1. Description of his or her bedroom: 
Jenna and Ryan sleep in the master bedroom of their house. There is a connected bathroom. The bed has a red comforter with brown stitching and similar pillows. The walls are painted brown, and there is a brown fuzzy rug on the floor. Above their bed, their is a family portrait in a heart-shaped frame. There is a night stand on either side of the bed. Each one puts their stuff, such as photos and jewelry, on the nightstand on the side of the bed that they sleep in every night.
  1. Favorite bands/songs/type of music: 
Jenna hates country music, but she generally likes pop stuff. She’s not into rock, but she likes Coldplay.
  1. Favorite movies: 
Likes the idea of whole idea of TRON and TRON Legacy. Likes to watch anime movies, not because of the plot, but so she can look at the characters. Animated movies intrigue her. Emotional, heart wrenching movies cause her to break down and start sobbing in movie theaters. Likes action and adventure movies. 
  1. Favorite TV shows:
Likes funny TV shows, such as modern family or raising hope. Hates anything involving vampires. Hates the news.
  1. Favorite books: 
She loves emotional books, though she often breaks down at the end, so she only reads them in bed. She like adventurous books that have a “man verse nature” theme. 
  1. Favorite foods:
Likes it spicy. Likes Indian and thai food. Likes homey food, like mac and cheese and hot cocoa and chili. 
  1. Favorite sports/sports teams: 
Jenna did not particularly enjoy sports before meeting Ryan, so she follows who he follows. Her favorite sport is baseball, and her team is the cubs.
  1. Political views: 
Usually votes democrat. Doesn’t watch the news, but Ryan watches it sometimes and tells her about candidates or things being put on the ballot.
20. Any interesting philosophies on life? 
In a graphic novel, there isn’t always a happy ending. The same is true with life. Some will win, and some will lose.
21. Religion: 
The family celebrates Christmas and Easter, because it’s fun for Isabelle, but they never go to church. Their pretty much atheists with holidays.
22. Physical health: 
She’s healthy and active, and has managed to stay slim after giving birth to Isabelle. She tries to eat health, often settling for a salad for lunch.
  1. Pet peeves:
People who are nit-picky and neat and have upturned nose about it. (unless it’s Ryan.)
Questions Part II 
  1. Favorite clothing style/outfit:
Dark jeans with brown leather boots, an orange shirt, a brown sweater, and a scarf.
  1. Special gestures/movements (i.e., curling his or her lip when he or she speaks, always keeping his or her eyes on the ground, etc.):
She bites her lip when she’s thinking or when she’s nervous.
  1. Things about his or her appearance he or she would most like to change: 
She wishes she were taller, so people weren’t always talking down to her or thinking she was sixteen years old.
  1. Speaking style (fast, talkative, monotone, etc.):
She’s talkative in a very non-annoying way.
5. Fondest memory: 
She’s 22 years old, about to graduate college. She goes into a bar with some friends. Because she is so short, someone asks to see her ID. Realizing she forgot it at home, she tells them she’s 22, and she’s just short. A bar tender asks her to leave. Ryan, seeing the commotion, comes over and talks to bar tender. Apparently, they are friends. Ryan says he is a friend of Jenna, and that she is 22 years old. The bar tender shrugs and says that, since his job is at stake, Jenna has to leave. Ryan goes with her. They talk. Neither has eaten, so they go to a taco bell. Ryan is in law school. There is a special connection, and phone numbers are given. They go their separate ways, but not for long. They fall in love. The rest is history.
6. Insecurities: 
Her height.
7. Quirks: 
Bites her lip constantly, causing them to bleed sometimes.
8. Temperament (easygoing, easily angered, etc.): 
She’s unpredictable, but generally agreeable. 
9. Negative traits:
Disorganized, unpredictable. 
10. Things that upset him or her:
When people are hypocritical.
11. Things that embarrass him or her:
Her height.
12. This character really cares about:
Her daughter, her husband.
13. Things that make him or her happy:
Her daughter, her husband, Thai food.
14. Deepest, darkest secret:
She was seeing someone else, named Darren, when she met Ryan. He was at the bar that night, but he didn’t see her leave. She broke up with him a few weeks later.
15. Reason he or she kept this secret for so long:
She thinks it will upset Ryan, especially now that Ryan and Darren are friends. Darren does not know about the overlap either.
16. Other people's opinions of this character (What do people like about this character? What do they dislike about this character?):
Ryan thinks she is funny and intelligent, but is often distraught by her disorganization. Her parents think she is smart, but worry about her decision making. Her in-laws think she’s over energetic and not quite right for Ryan. Darren doesn’t know quite what to think of her, because of what went on between them and how quickly she cut it off.
17. Dream vacation: 
She would go to Italy and Rome, then travel to England and France, and finally top it all off with a stay in Hawaii.
18. Any pets? 
The family has a dog, Sam, that is very protective of Isabelle and Jenna. At first, it barked at Ryan, but it has decided that Ryan is also part of the family. Sam does not like strangers.
19. Best thing that has ever happened to this character: 
Meeting Ryan and giving birth to Isabelle.
  1. Worst thing that has ever happened to this character: 
Breaking it off with Darren. They were sort of good for each other, in a weird sort of way. And he was a really nice guy. They just didn’t connect in the way that she did with Ryan. He was just another boyfriend in college, while she was able to build a relationship with Ryan. She does not doubt that Ryan was the right choice, but she feels sorry for Darren, because she knows that she hurt him a lot, even if it was five years ago. 
21. Superstitions: 
Not superstitious. Thinks superstition is bogus and makes people do stupid things.
22. Three words to describe this character: 
Loving, Unpredictable, Disorganized
23. If a song played every time this character walked into the room, what song would it be?
I’m not sure, but it would be something not quite rock, but something loud and awesome. She would come into the room, here the music, jump up, and start singing her head off as Isabelle giggled and Ryan laughed from his armchair. 

Monday, October 10, 2011

The Wind

The wind is angry.
I wish I knew why,
So I could sit beside it,
And whisper calming words.
Maybe it would fall asleep,
and the trees would cease to sway.
But right now,
As I sit on my bed glancing out the rain-soaked window,
I cannot understand the tortured, twisted howls,
As they fall from the murky grey sky.
I think I can hear someone crying.
Someone far off in the distance.
The wind is angry.
It lifts the red and orange leaves high in the sky,
And causes them to twist and turn and thrust.
Suddenly, I see that the leaves are dancing.
The trees are swaying to music,
And the rain is creating a steady beat.
I think I can hear someone laughing.
Someone nearby.