Family

 Author's note- This is my final essay for our group novel- Life As We Knew It.  In this piece I describe the theme of the book.  I never come outright and just say it, but I hint multiple times as to what it is. 

Lead in- Once upon a time everybody died.  Do you love your family? Too bad, they're dead. Your friends? Them too.  Ha! And you thought you were so tough!? What are you doing, crying in the corner with your head in your hands? You sit there and feel sorry for yourself while everybody else is dead!  Why would you want to live when you life isn't even worth living? Open you eyes! What is a hollow life but a shell of death and despair? You want to live now?  You're crazy.

Sixteen year old Miranda is faced with one of the greatest tragedies mankind has and will ever face.  With death around every corner family is the only thing standing between life and death, or even worse, insanity. With earthquakes and tsunami's racking the earth in search of blood people are terrified.  Food is so scarce that people are cutting down to one meal every other day, but even though a little goes long way, it doesn't go forever.  People are so desperate to live that they have gone so low as  to eat a poor innocent pet cat! No one is safe, and, quite frankly,  no one even remembers  what safe means.

I think that in my novel, one of the main themes is survival and the will, not necessarily for yourself to survive, but for the others that you love to survive.  Family is always there for you.  They hold you and comfort you, and even though sometimes you just want to knock them senseless, you love them and you don't know what you would do without them.  I have a large loving family at home.  They accompany me when I want to be alone, the make me smile when all I want to do is cry.  Honestly, without them, I don't know where I'd be today, other than knowing that I surely wouldn't be where I am.  Not only the Physical factor of them not feeding me and all, but the quilt I would feel if they died would surely kill me too.  Especially if I was placed in the position of Miranda in my novel. 

Miranda's family stands by her and she loves them so much that I know without a doubt she would give their life so they could live.  Jonny, Matt (her brothers) and her mother would do the same.  Honestly, as sweet and touching as that is, it is definitely not very efficient. Do you see the problem yet? If they all die so the others could live then they'd all be dead and no one could live! Starving, Miranda's mother believes that if she gives up all her food her little kids could survive, but they can't! Not without a mother! If my mom just went and died without a second thought, my brothers and I would be, for lack of a better term, dead.  We can't live without a mother, no matter how  "Mature and responsible" we are.

Life and death are the immortal equalizers that turn our innocent sweet minds into dark gloomy pits of despair and worry.  Will I die soon?  Will other people I love die while I'm alive? Will I have to watch? These are the questions that no matter how many times you kick them out they will still manage to creep back into your head.  Sometimes, though, these terrible questions that we are too terrified to think about just happen to answer themselves.  And when they do- beware, you can hide from questions all your life but you can never hid from answers.  They find you, they always do.  Surviving might be tough, keeping sane, even harder, but coming through on the other side unscathed, that's impossible.  The will to live is what kills us.  The will for others to live, that's our only hope. 

Blind Men

Piscine Moliter Patel, Pi for short, has a problem. He's trapped on a dingy lifeboat with a four hundred fifty pound Bengal tiger, and the only cat chow to speak of within a 500 mile radius is Pi himself. After many weeks of constant worry and starvation, Pi's physique begins to go downhill. First it's his skin, then his eyes, and eventually, his mind.

While drifting aimlessly through the ocean, Pi hears something. It sounds like an elderly man, but who knows what the ocean could do to you. He turns. The sound of the ocean drifts away and the sweet song on the human voice melts Pi's bones. The man asks if Pi has any food; Pi replies that he doesn't and asks the man if he has any food, same results. Pi’s heart goes out to the man; here he is eating boots while Pi has fish literally jumping to feed him. The man starts to climb over to Pi's boat and trips, his hands coincidentally landing directly on top of Pi's neck, hissing, "Yes your heart is with me, as with your liver and your flesh," He cackles as his hands begin to tighten. Pi struggles to warn the man of the tiger slowly creeping up on them, but he doesn't notice. Suddenly the tiger pounces and the assailant is killed instantly while Pi is left without a scratch. What a strike of luck to find another man in another lifeboat stranded in the middle of the ocean. Or is it?

Although I do not believe that the blind man was real, I also do not think he is completely a figment of Pi's imagination. The author, I think, put this experience into the story to symbolize the leaving of Pi's id and him turning himself over completely to his primal instincts.

They say "the eyes are windows to the soul", and since Pi is blind, does that mean his old soul is abandoning him? I believe that the tiger represents Pi's soul, while the other castaway represents Pi's instincts, and the creature he is slowly becoming. Think about it: Pi was blind before the meeting, and he regained his sight after he defeated this evil being that was taking over him. Coincidence? I don't think so. Pi's id was represented in the vengeance of the tiger attacking the blind man and when the tiger won, he got his sight back.

In order to prove my conclusion I need to explain the actions of the blind man and the tiger that led me to such ideas. The blind man is a cannibal, and even if he wasn't one when he started his journey to insanity, he is now. Why? Only to survive. In the beginning Pi couldn't even kill a bug, and since desperate times call for desperate measures Pi decides that it would be in his best interest to man up and do it -- to survive. The tiger was once beautiful and all powerful; now he has grown weak and thin, and Pi tames this beast, just like he attempts to tame his mind. Strangling Pi, the blind man cannot see the tiger, just as he cannot see himself being beaten while he is in the lead. The tiger leaps and easily the evil man is dead. Sanity returns, and the pair continue on their journey like nothing has changed but something has changed, inside Pi's mind.

The tiger, Pi's moral self, has won.  Had the primal blind man won I am positive that Pi would not have survived.   Pi's mind, the only reason why he is holding on, is the difference between life and death.  The difference between life and death is the will to survive.  The will to survive will keep someone alive, but they will exist only as a blind animal and without the stability of a zookeeper an animal cannot live through itself. 

The Journey

See through the storm,

Find the light through the dark,

The journey is rough,

To win the prize you need luck,

So luck I will wish you,

Till the end of your days,

Someday you'll thank me,

Possibly,

Maybe.

You will need it I'm sure,

To get where you're going,

Your brain will give up but you'll keep going,

Never doubt love,

The love in your heart,

You will need it I'm sure,

To keep up on top.

Terrible monsters will block your path,

You will be frightened but never fall back,

Your heart will be open,

Your brain will be closed,

They cannot hurt you remember to know,

I'll hold your hand,

I'll hold it tight,

Never let go through day and by night. 

When you get there, you'll know,

Your heavy heart will feel light,

Your eyes will fall closed,

The stars will shine through the night

You might fall to the ground,

A joy in your soul,

For once in your life,

Your heart forever,

All right.

Would you Rather??

Authors Note:  This is a twist on those annoying little Would You Rather- cards.  I think that these two settings perfectly capture the human's ideal world.  We all want to take the easy way out.  Everyone wishes they had perfection.  Sometimes I do too, but when you read the last line- think about it.  The obvious choice is not always the right one.  Comment with your answer. 

The bus bounces over hills and valleys , scales mountains, floats over rivers, each mile another lost memory.  The clouds snake across the sky and the sun plays hide and seek with the earth.  One moment sunny and gorgeous, the next dark and revealing.  Town after town disappears back with the horizon.  City lights come to life in the night and fall asleep suddenly once the sun shows its face.  Some of the passengers constantly have their faces squished up against the windows, while others sleep like babies through everything and anything.  Lastly there are the bouncy exited people that can never seem to take in the fact that they are actually going somewhere.  They can’t help it when their smiley little mouths come unhinged  and their tongues loll out in awe.  They look like dogs but are much more interesting than the sleepy sweaty ones.   The cozy seats look so pleasant and soft.  The lights in the ceiling never falter like the sun sometimes does.  The bathroom is always open.  The driver is always pleasant.  No one shouts, no one disturbs on another.  People say  excuse me and thank you.  No one is ever hungry.  It is perfection.  Constant serenity.  Peace.  Simply nothing. 

The fight was just starting to heat up.  There were two older men, obviously intoxicated, swinging madly at one another, only managing to make contact every other punch.  People averted their eyes when they saw the men.  Parents pushed their curious little kids along the street pretending not to notice the chaos.  Homeless people on the corners cheered the men on and one scraggly old geezer had even tried to start a round of "Fight! Fight! Fight!" but the chant died out as soon as it started.  Eventually the scuffle broke apart when a nearby police officer decided it was time to put an end to the disturbing entertainment.  The men were dragged off kicking and screaming by the officer and the spectators began to disperse to their separate ways .  It was insecure.  It was violent, but it was surely something. 

Which do you choose?

Poverty

"This child, one of the many hungry in this small village hasn't eaten in days. " The image of a boy, probably around five years old flashes across the screen, his rib bones clearly exposed under the sickly skin stretched over his thin frame.  The speaker continues-

"To let this little one go to bed tonight without food in its stomach would break your heart.  Give today.  Call the number at the bottom of the screen and donate from your heart.  A dollar a day can save a life."  The boy disappears in a split second and a new commercial starts.  What do you do?  Fast forward through the scene, calling it a scam?  Do you ignore it?  Why should you care about some kid you've never met?  The few of us that pick up our phones and dial the number, do you question your actions later?  Do you wish you could call again and take it back? Be true to yourself, we all have our own evils, and whether that evil is as obvious as selfishness, or even being too lazy to pick up you phone and punch in the numbers, and we make up excuses to fool ourselves into thinking that you are doing the right thing.  So ask yourself-  would you pick up the phone and call that number and save a life, or do you fast forward and forget you ever saw anything?

The air was thick with dust and seemed to cling to every crevice and hole in the ground.  It was sweltering and at least half the village was down at the river, licking up the very essence of water and savoring it as mud squelching in between their toes.  The dry season was coming soon, the river had already dropped quite a few feet in the last few weeks and worry was creeping into the minds of everyone.  Killing off all the crops, the dry season was a nightmare.  Not a drop of rain falls for the long three months from July to September, and without this necessary ingredient for life, the human body can only survive little over a week, but the mind falls apart much quicker.  The crazy ones go quickly, forgetting to ration their intake and then ending up drinking their three months worth of water in less than a week.  Many mothers barely get by on a gallon a week, saving theirs for their children.  More than half the villagers die. The greatest prize to the survivor is that blessed rain from the heavens to signal the beginning of another year. 

Later that night many of the villagers began to bail the river.  It usually would take months for little over a hundred people to empty a river, but these people knew what was at stake and a little less than a week later, not a drop remains.  After they finished, all the water went all go to the village's water holding compartment which was basically a giant hole in the ground covered in thick waxy leaves that helped keep the thirsty ground from drinking up their water.  Once the drought started the holding compartment was open only once a week and each family would take only it's designated ration, none more, and certainly none less.  Depending on the amount of water stored up, the rations varied from year to year.  Some years it was as little as 2 gallons a week and on good years you could binge with a full 5 gallons a week! The will to live is the only thing that kept you alive during these months. 

The once noisy happy village falls into a desolate slump.  No one dare sweats, as wasting water was the worst possible thing you could do.  Screaming at full blast through the cloudless sky, the sun was relentless.  Not only did the days reach to temperatures of at least 125 degrees, but the thirsty sun seemed to be sucking every last molecule of liquid out of the empty ground. Children did not play.  Mothers did not talk and gossip in the town.  Fathers did not go out hunting.  No one dared leave their house.  The silence was deafening and it echoed throughout the village like an angry battle cry announcing the feeling in everyone's heart and shouting it to the world.  A foreigner would most likely name the once alive and well village a ghost town and go home.  Every day seemed to get worse and worse until the weak would ones lose it and keel over.  The tough ones would cry and even the kind ones would get bloodthirsty.  No matter how many times you blink and rub your eyes this nightmare never dies until you do. 

July passes, slowly but surely and the water  holding compartment is only half full.  The people begin to worry.  August is gone in the blink of an eye, and the compartment is almost empty.  The villagers are parched, their rations have been cut in half, but the water is disappearing much faster than it should.  The wise men hold a meeting to discuss this recent problem.  The elders are in a league of their own, separated from everyone else, by their want to keep their village alive.  They have lived longer than most, and have the greatest will to survive when the going gets tough.  They are looked up upon by their followers, and everyone's dream is o one day be an elder and rule their town to be strong when they no longer have the strength. The elders solve any problem you could ever have, and although sometimes you might not like it, it keeps you alive.  The animal water rations are cut.  Keeping animals alive during the dry season is extremely difficult, as they require water and food and care to produce necessary things like milk and eggs.  No one dares argue with the elders and the animals die.   September passes. 

Imagine the joy of not seeing a single drop of rain for over three months.  What would you do when you see your first rain?  Do you dance and sing?  Do you rub your eyes and blink, wondering if you are dead?  The villagers rush out of their houses and laugh and sing and play. Every emotion that they hadn't felt for the longest time rushes back and tears of happiness mix with the rain and fall to the ground, the dry dirt now a soppy muddy mess.  The children run and jump into the mud, covering themselves head to toe with the glorious slop. Fathers hang to the side, not as soft as the mothers and the kids, but everyone of them has a grin the size of Africa stretching across their face.  The world is right again and the once empty eyes of its people fill with joy.

Yann Martel Metaphore

In the novel, Life of Pi, the normal everyday life of a Hindu/Muslim/Christian boy is turned upside down when he finds himself stranded on a sparce lifeboat with only a Zebra, a hyena, an orangutan, and a Bengal Tiger.  The author later descibes his inspiration for the book in these words-
"The idea of a religious boy in a lifeboat with a wild animal struck me as a perfect metaphor for the human condition. Humans aspire to really high things, right, like religion, justice, democracy. At the same time, we're rooted in our human, animal condition. And so, all of those brought together in a lifeboat struck me as being... as a perfect metaphor."
Yann Martel, the author, also states that he coincidentaly released his book on the actual day of 9/11/01, when the superficialities of the human race and their beliefs were the most exposed.

I believe that Martel was truly, underneath all the tiger and ocean drama, was trying to teach the reader how the exaggerations of certain beliefs causes people belonging to that belief to act in ways that in no way coordinate with their reliegion.  Martel clearly exposes the superficial flaws of humanity by comparing how, no matter this being seemingly impossible, a young boy survives 227 days on a lifeboat stranded in the middle of the ocean, with only a tiger for company.  And although the instincts of the tiger and the knowledge of the boy are not made to mix, they abandon all opinions of one another in order to achieve a common goal, survival.

Soccer Injuries

There are two minutes left in the state championship game and your team is down by one point.  If you can manage to score your team will be given a shoot out.  Without this last goal, you will go home losers.  Running up and down the field, you look for a pass.  You teammate sees you and gives you the perfect ball.  You snatch it up and speed down the field towards the goal.  The opposite team goes flying by as you cut them all with a swift turn of your ankle.  You're in the home stretch.  It's just you, one last defender, the goalie, and the goal.  The defender is big, her head towers above you, but you aren't scared.  You take it to her.  When you get with in inches of her you throw a move and pass her.  You let out a nervous breath.  Just you and the goalie in the 18 yard box now.   Kicking the ball away is almost the worst thing you can do.  Lining up the shot, you back swing and then, inches from winning the game you are plowed over by the defender.  A pain unlike anything you have ever felt before shoots up your leg and you turn your head slightly to notice the awkward angle it is sitting at. You know it's broken.  The ref blows the whistle and your coach and mother run onto the field.  They lift you up and carry you off the field. 

Soccer is an intensely physical sport that requires physique and strength.  Recently injuries have gotten much worse in soccer children, as the competitiveness increases.  Have you ever asked your parents if they played contact sports when they were kids?  They will tell you that it was hardly like it is today.  Nowadays we have five year olds out there, pummeling each other, parents on the sidelines screaming them on like they should be proud of their overaggressive kids.  My brother's friend actually got his collarbone broken in a soccer game, and he's only seven years old! I also know someone else who got their femur broken in a soccer game because another player kicked him.  My mom got her ankle broken by playing soccer and has never been the same since. So- all you football players- beat that!

There are an estimated total of 148,913 soccer injuries in the US in a single year alone.  In between the ages of 13-18 there have been over a million injuries in the time frame of one decade.  Concussions, an ongoing issue are much more likely to occur in player to player play rather than player to ball play.  In fact player to player injuries are responsible for over 40% of all injuries. 

In football the players are covered head to toe in pads and they don't need a very high level of physique in order to play. Quite a few football players weigh over 400 pounds and tell me- have you ever seen a 400 pound soccer player?  Not to mention all the rules they have in football that state exactly how you are supposed to take a player down.  No facemasks, no fighting, no swearing at other players, no roughing the passer, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah- I don't care! Not to mention all the new rules they are making because of health problems.  Pretty soon they will have to play two hand touch because they are too afraid of getting hurt.

Soccer players are surely more likely to sustain injuries, the players are more violent and injures have recently skyrocketed in young child's play.  Football players are covered head to toe in pads and the most common serious injury is a concussion.  I am a soccer player myself (if you couldn't tell) and I have never seen a red card pulled, even though there have been plenty of times when it should have been.  Soccer is definitely more violent than football and to and any football player that disagrees with me, I have the statistics to prove it. 

Witch Girls

Life was dull in the Proctor household; John and his wife were out and Mary** (look to bottom), their indentured servant, was managing the household.  All was good and Mary felt hope for the first time in a long while.  There was nothing so pleasant as the birds that chirped and sang outside and the soft smell of the approaching spring crept through the open window.  A seemingly beautiful winter day was about to be dreadfully ruined. 

                                                                                ~~~~~~~~~~

"Mary, come here," John called from the kitchen.

"Yes sir," She walked to the kitchen to find her master and his wife, arm and arm, waiting. 

"Mary; Elizabeth and myself are going out. Tend to the house while we are away.  We will be back sometime tomorrow afternoon," John turned with his wife and walked out the door.  Mary felt like she had just been slapped.  It was like this anytime the master went out with his wife.  It was just so hard to waste away loving someone who would never love you back.   Mary was lost in her own wave of self pity and jumped at the sound of the doorbell.  She pulled the door back and although the visitor's face was covered in the shadows there was no mistaking the sight of the devil herself, none other than Ann Putnam Jr.  **

Ann pulled back her shawl and looked expectantly at Mary. Her pupils were dilated, almost invisible in the great depths of her green eyes.  It reminded Mary of the look of feasting in the eyes of a big cat as it bore down on its prey.  Ann continued to stare at Mary as if she was a foreign creature never discovered before by mankind. As Mary pondered the options and the choice that would forever change her life; Ann looked on knowingly as if every time she went to someone’s house they had to ask themselves if they were safe. Deciding that she had nothing to lose, Mary stepped back and let the little not-so-innocent Ann into her heart.  Ann removed her jacket and Mary led her to the parlor where she poured the visitor a cup of steaming tea and they sat down with heavy hearts. 

"We want you to join our circle," Ann stated.

"What are you talking about?"

"You have to swear not to tell a soul," Mary contemplated the offer and the responsibility. 

"Fine Ann. Whatever you say," she replied

"We are a group of underestimated unnoticed girls who meet twice a week with Tituba,"

"Wait- Tituba the pastor's maidservant? Why would you want to meet with her?"

"Yes, she practices the black arts.  We see the future and perform dangerous spells in order for us to understand hidden information, lost to us by precarious laws that forbid it"

"Why would I want to join a group of villainous girls doing illegal things for their own amusement?"

"What if I made you a deal?"

"What are you talking about Ann?"  Mary knew she was falling into Ann's trap, but she just couldn't resist the temptation. She was embarrassed by her actions but she continued play along.

"Don't think we don't know about your little secret with John.  We know how badly you want him to be yours instead of that evil Elizabeth's.  We can get rid of her, no strings attached.  Imagine the life Mary.  You would have everything you ever wanted." Mary's mouth began to water. 

"I am very suspicious of you Ann,"

"No need to fear fate.  Let your heart lead you in our direction.  I expect to see this Thursday."  Anne stood up and dusted off her dress, preparing to leave.  Mary went to get her jacket and held it out to Ann.  The door that had betrayed Mary slammed shut and, thankfully; Ann with it.

                                                                                               

The snow fell in dirty clumps and landed ungracefully on the frozen ground.  Mary hunched down and pulled her sweater closer to her body.  The church stood tall in the distance, a beacon of light in a world of dark.  The pastor and his wife were out on another mission trip and the faint light of a candle flickered in one of the windows.  The hard brass knocker of the church door mocked her.  It sat there day in and day out, never having to make a decision or worry about what might happen because of it.  Reaching up to grab the brass knocker she was surprised when it swung open in front of her and the too familiar face of Ann Putnam Jr. stared into her soul. 

"I'm glad to see you.  Please come in."

Mary felt like she had just jumped off the side of a building and found out she could fly.  The meeting had gone wonderfully.  All the other girls respected and honored her even though she was considerably older than them.  Tituba had told her that she saw love in her future! Love! Mary’s spirits were higher than they had been in months and then she opened her mouth, and let the cold white snowflakes land blissfully on her warm tongue.  Life was good.

Mary slept late and woke to the sound of the large front wooden door opening and slamming shut. 

"Mary!"  John yelled with such ferocity that made Mary bury her head into the blankets.  He stormed into her room and threw the bed sheet off her.  

"How dare you! I take you into my house and I give you food and water and a room and you repay me by breaking the law! Get up you lazy cow!" Mary did as she was told and hung her head guiltily.  How had he found out so quickly? Who told him?  Why would they want to betray her? Questions flooded through her mind as John took the whip out of his shirt and threw Mary against the wall. 

Mary went to the next meeting, and the one after that.  She loved the meetings; they made her feel alive, unlike anything she had felt before.  The Pastor’s daughters were a little quirky, they had spells of mindless terror and panic, but otherwise the meetings were fantastic.  John no longer beat her, and she wondered if maybe one of the girls in the group had tried to test her faith to the group by making her put the group before her wellbeing, but no one seemed surprised when she came back.  Ann of course had many crazy ideas about how they could become noticed and respected among the other villagers noticed, but all had been shot down and called stupid by the others.  Everyone made her feel welcome, but by being welcome to the outcasts, wouldn’t that make you and outcast as well?

 “Who did this to you?  Tell us; who is putting you poor girls through all this painful suffering?” Ann’s lip quivered and she looked like she might cry.  She looked up, for an omen or something of the sort to reach out to her.  As she opened her mouth to speak, all that escaped was a shrill scream that bounced off walls and made the audience cover their ringing ears with shaking hands.  The pastor reached over to comfort her but Ann swatted his hand away and went on shrieking.  Mary, standing nearby had absolutely no idea what was going on.  What is he talking about?  Witches and temptations?  Had everyone lost their minds? One by one the other girls of her circle fell into hysterics of screaming and hissing, and Mary followed along, falling onto her hands and knees and coughing her lungs out , but her heart was not in it as much as the other girls’. Mary knew this was wrong but it was so exhilarating to finally be noticed by someone! The pastor sank to his knees and began praying vigorously for the poor tormented girls’ souls.  The audience had also fell into hysterics, their eyes closed and their heads bowed to their feet, obviously following the pastor’s lead.  Those of them who couldn’t seem to handle the hysteria had stood with trembling legs and made their way to the door.  Even some of the very weak hearted had passed out in their pews, oblivious to the chaos around them.  The pastor rose from his pew, his praying finished and once again he attempted to speak to the girls. 

“Children who is causing this ruckus on you poor hearts; do tell us, they will pay,” The reached out to pat Ann’s shoulder and this time she did not revoke him.  She opened her mouth ever so slightly and uttered one word before collapsing-

“Tituba.”

                                                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The entire town of Salem was in chaos after the event at the church that afternoon.  There had been three accused as witches; Sarah Good, Sarah Osborne, and Tituba. No one trusted anyone and if any type of outcast was seen in the street they were given at least a nine foot diameter circle around them and no one dared step within it.  People’s eyes had a certain look of evil in them that wasn’t there before.  These innocent people were bloodthirsty and only witch blood would be sufficient.  Mary walked with her head down, sure of her punishment once she got home. She walked as slowly as possible, but eventually she found herself scared to death facing the large door of the Proctor household.  As Mary considered entering through the back way she was ambushed from behind by the strong arm of John Proctor. 

                                                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eating her way through a bowl of cold cabbage soup, Mary could barely hold back groans with each swallow.  She had washed the blood off her back but the horrible sting remained.  Mary debated whether or not she should continue to go to the meetings, now that Tituba was gone, and was about to go see Ann to tell her about her decision when a sharp knock echoed through the house. 

“Mary, go answer the door,” Elizabeth called from the kitchen.  Mary did as she was told and was surprised again by the horrifying sight of Ann Putnam Jr. 

“Who is it honey?” Came the voice from the kitchen.

“It’s no one Elizabeth.  Just a friend of mine,”

“Oh.  Okay then, have fun.”

“We need to talk,” Ann whispered. 
“I agree,”

“You are now an official member of the circle.  You may not leave or tell anything that you know about us to anyone.  You hear me, Mary? There are no second shots.  You can leave now and give up on ever having your only true love or you can stay.  What do you say?”

“I will stay.  I have a question Ann,”

“Yes?”
“Why are you doing this?”

“What am I doing Mary?”

“Pretending to be tortured,”

“Who ever said anything about pretending?” Ann giggled but there was as much innocence in that gesture as there was in a killer’s guilty weapon. 

                                                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The accusations continued and Mary played along grimly.  One of the accused, as Ann promised, was none other than Elizabeth Proctor.  John was absolutely crushed and every time Mary tried to comfort him he would send her to do some obnoxious chore that would eat up her entire day and then some.  Second thoughts bounced around in Mary’s head and she wished with all her might that she could go back to that first day Ann came to her door and slam the door in her face.  Unfortunately Mary could not, and there was only other choice.  She had to expose them. 

                                                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mary stood in front of the entire congregation and choked.  She had everything planned.  She would call out on the girls, day that they were faking it, prove it somehow, and everything would be over.  The “witches” would be let go and everyone would thank her and pat her on the back.  Unfortunately that was not to be because as soon as she tried to speak all that came out was a squeak and with all those evil eyes staring into her she fell to the floor without a sound. 

                                                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She woke in small room that was certainly not her room.  The decorations were sparse, the wallpaper peeling, the entire room was falling apart at the edges and was completely bare of furniture except for a small bed in the far corner of the room and a chamber pot in the other.  Mary did not have much time to look around because as if she was watching for when the victim awoke, Ann burst in shaking her fist and frowning like a crazy maniac. 

“Just tell me.  What could possibly make you betray us like that?” Mary shrugged.

“I don’t know,” She whispered

“That is not an answer! Did you think I was joking when I said there was only one try at this? Are you trying to test me? “

“No-”

“Then what was it? Temporary insanity?”

“Well now that you mention it.”

“Silence.  Do not try that stuff with me,”

“I guess I just wasn’t happy,”

“You’re not happy? How about Elizabeth?  How do you think she feels- rotting away in a cramped jail cell while her servant tries to make it good with her husband?”

“That’s not what I mean…..“
“Okay then- What do you mean?”
“I mean it was better before I even joined the circle and I want to go back and make everything like it was before,”

“Well life is not fair.  And since you don’t like us at all you can’t leave.  You will be forced to come to every meeting and follow along just like you were doing very well before.”

“But Ann….”

“I said life is not fair.  You think I don’t have total control over you? 

“No,”

“No what?”

“No nothing,” Mary sighed. 

“Exactly what I thought.  Good day.”

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next few weeks passed in a blur and with them more accusations and more “witches”.  One of the very first accused, after Mary’s little outbreak, was none other John Proctor but Mary was too numb to take any notice.  They came to take John’s belongings now that neither he nor his wife was living there anymore. This left Mary completely homeless.  The nights were cold, the days were hot, and all she fed on were the compliments of the other girls in her circle when they came to visit. 

                                                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The trials started soon after the accusations slowed and many of the accused were sentenced to death by hanging.  Gallows Hill was abuzz with nasty witchy spirits.  John was hung while in the meantime Elizabeth was released home with a broken heart and a mourning spirit.  Mary lost track of time and her heart ached to go back to the start and change it all but that was not to be, as the only consolation left in her heart were in her dreams                                                                

                                                                               

Bibliography

Important Persons in the Salem Court Records . (n.d.). Retrieved October 25, 2011, from Salem Witch Trials Documentary Archive and Transcription Project: http://www2.iath.virginia.edu/saxon-salem/servlet/SaxonServlet?source=salem/texts/names.xml&style=salem/xsl/dynaxml.xsl&group.num=all&mbio.num=mb30&clear-stylesheet-cache=yes

Rinaldi, A. (1992). A Break with Charity. San Diego: Gulliver Books.

Linder, D. O. (n.d.). Dead. Retrieved October 25, 2011, from Salem Trials: http://law2.umkc.edu/faculty/projects/ftrials/salem/ASAL_DE.HTM

Rinaldi, A. (1992). A Break with Charity. San Diego: Gulliver Books.

** People during the time of the Salem Witch Trials-

Mary Warren- An indentured servant living and working in the household of John Proctor.

John Proctor- A regular everyday person in Salem.

Elizabeth Proctor- John’s wife. 

Ann Putnam Jr. - The daughter of the drama queen of the town.  Her mother is very mean to everyone but also quite influential.  Everyone knows Ann as the spitting image of her mother. 

Essay Outline

Persuasive

Topic- Soccer injuries

What About It?- The sport of soccer has many possible injuries and is more dangerous than football.

Stance-  Soccer

Middle-

Paragraph 1 (Soccer Statistics)

• An estimated total of 148,913 soccer injuries in the US alone
• In the time of 13 years there was an estimated amount of over a million injuries for ages 13-18 alone
• There has been a significant increase in soccer related injuries among girls
• Concussions were more likely to occur in player to player rather than player to ball
• Player to player contact was responsible for over 40% of all soccer injuries

Paragraph 2 (Football Statistics)

• Head to toe in pads
• Multiple rules on how you need to take people down
• Many more players in football, and barely anymore injuries
• Helmets
• Mouth guards
• Face masks
• Worse shape than soccer players so injuries are easier to get
• Referees call every foul
• Getting less and less dangerous as they raise health awareness

Paragraph three (Comparison)

• Soccer injuries are intentional acts to knock someone away, where as football you are supposed to knock them down so there isn't much glory
• Soccer players wear only shin guards to protect themselves, but football players have much more pads
• Every player plays
•  Much more running in soccer, more speed when getting hurt
• More likely to suffer from heat or overactive sickness/more running (soccer)
• Only 8 minutes of real play each quarter

Conclusion-

Soccer players are surely more likely to sustain injuries, the players are more violent and injures have recently skyrocketed in young child's play.  Football players are covered head to toe in pad and the most common serious injury is a concussion.  I am a soccer player myself (if you couldn't tell) and I know someone who had their femur broken in a soccer match.  I have never seen a red card pulled, even though there have been plenty of times when it should have been.  Soccer is definitely more violent than football and to and any football player that disagrees with me, I have the statistics to prove it. 

Materialistic People (a.k.a- Essay Hook)

Many people in today's society become attached, a little too closely, to material objects. These objects may include money, possessions, or even... fruit? In a snowy isle of Russia, there is a woman who is extremely attached to her pet blueberry. This Halloween she lost her blueberry in a freak accident involving a food disposal and this woman has never gotten over it. Is it possible for today's human beings to love material objects as much as they might love a family member?

The Yellow Cat and a Sugar Cube

Rebecca flicked her hood up and tilted her head forward, cowering, as the tiny rain pellets stung her relentlessly.  The wind whipped leaves around, and they mixed with the rain.  A walk that should only take 10 minutes was turning into a half hour trip.  She always walked, rain or shine, when she went to work, because the boss tore down the parking lot to promote exercise and a healthy lifestyle.  Hypothermia didn't exactly count as a "healthy lifestyle", but what can you do? Rebecca walked in the front door of the warehouse and shook the rain off her jacket.  To her surprise the usual chill that ran through the giant building was gone, replaced by a comforting heat that raised goose bumps on her arms.  Ha, maybe her boss did have an ounce of guilt in him. 

She walked over to the coffee machine on the folding table in the corner, like she did every morning and

poured herself a cup. There was something sticky all over the floor and she looked down to see that someone had spilled the milk all over the floor.   She reached for a sugar packet, but there weren’t any left.  Rebecca sighed and reached for a cube.  She hated using the sugar cubes, but nobody else seemed to care that anyone could potentially poison them or something.  She not being overcautious, she thought, it just seems wrong.  As much as she loved her coworkers she didn’t exactly love it when her coffee tasted like cat hair. After she finished her coffee, she glanced at the clock on the wall and jumped. 

She was late, again.  Rebecca sprinted down the hall to the meeting room and slowly opened to door to not disturb her coworkers.  She poked her head in to the completely empty room.  Of course the first thought that came to mind was that she missed the meeting, and she started to panic.  She wandered around the warehouse for awhile; trying to stick to the more shadowed areas, but was a bit on edge by the unusual silence that seemed to hang over her head like a raincloud.  The warehouse itself was quite large and spacious, and she found that if you were to shout from one end of the building to the other, the person on the other end would have no problem hearing the obnoxious echoes that rang out.  This was silent. Dead silent.

The sound of the front door was a sweet relief, and Rebecca slowly exhaled the breath she had been holding for who knows how long. She walked fast, but with purpose, to the door. As the cold metal door came into view she was surprised to find none other than Daniel Jacobs, her coworker’s husband.  He had a look of frightened urgency, his face pale against his clouded eyes.  Rebecca asked what he was doing here, but he paid no attention and hurried past her.  She ran after him and had to practically chase him across the warehouse until he suddenly disappeared.  Rebecca looked around; confused, as to where he could have gone. She scanned the area with my eyes but could not seem to find him.  Then there was the scream.  It was a bloodcurdling, hair-raising, eye-rolling scream that seemed to come from above Rebecca’s head.  She began to tip my head backwards to see what was up there when something warm and wet landed on her forehead.  She swiped it off with her finger and in the florescent light of the building saw the unmistakable red of human blood.  Rebecca couldn’t stop herself, she tried with all her willpower but she couldn’t push back the urge.  She looked up, saw, and screamed.

The man was masked. Rebecca couldn’t see his face, but I can tell you what she did see, and that was the silver glint of a handgun pointed at her.  He was standing on the catwalk that they used to reach the top shelves and the walk seemed to sway hypnotically back and forth, but the man was still.  What should you do if you were there making eye contact with a killer? Run, of course, is correct.  Unfortunately like in any exciting chase scene, her feet were like iron weights, the ground felt like bubblegum. She ran, but the entire world felt like it was going in slow motion, except the man.  

“STOP!” he yelled.  Rebecca weighed her options.  Die, or die with glory.  She chose the second and forced her legs to move faster.  The door had come into view, but every step seemed to be taking her farther away from it, rather than closer.  Out of the corner of one eye she thought she saw a cat, but as soon as she looked there, it was gone.  Her feet felt like they were getting all tangled up and her knees went out.  She fell forward and threw her hands out to save herself, but they hit something cold and hard. The door! How had she gotten all the way to the door?  Her eyelids were heavy and all she wanted to do was fall asleep.  With the last of her energy she pushed open the door and tumbled out into the rain. 

That afternoon nobody noticed the large green van pulling out of the parking lot of the warehouse.  All they could see were the swat vans and the police cars, along with every other emergency vehicle you could possibly sent to a mass murder site.  A young woman by the name of Rebecca had tipped them off when she was found crawling through the street on her hands and knees screaming for help. She had taken in a large amount of poison that just so happened to be hidden in the sugar cubes she had put in her coffee that morning.  They found six bodies; all poisoned, and were only able to save three.  A poison control team was investing an almost sterile crime scene when they came across a pale yellow mask thrown into the corner apparently in a hurry.  Rebecca was investigated to no end, but she remembered nothing except seeing a yellow cat that seemed to be looking at her right before she left the building. 

The Bus

Author's Note- This is just a fun piece with no real reason to it.  I am not really feeling like anything today so I just thought of one of my favorite childhood books and wrote about it.
 

The bus,

The stinky,

Smelly,

Yucky,

Blucky,

Stupid ,

Smelly bus.

The kids,

The meanie,

Yelly,

Jumpy,

Sneaky,

Picky,

 Smelly  kids.

The milk,

The owey,

Gooey,

Squirty,

Messy,

Owey ,

Gooey milk.

My hair

My flouncy

Brownie

Swishy

Swooshy

Milky

Yucky hair

The bus,

The stinky,

Smelly,

Yucky,

Blucky ,

Stupid,

Smelly bus.

--- Thanks to Junie B. Jones and Barbara Park

Author's note- I am working on a book at my house (it is not my independent novel, just one I'm reading for fun)  and it is called Antsy does time.  It is where a teenager named Gunner is told where he has only 8 months to live, and people are donating part of their lives to Gunner so he can live longer.  It is a humorous book and the disease isn't really real, but trouble is bound, because these kids are trading their lives away for little things like soda pops and candy bars and such.  


What if,


What if someone told you,
You had two more weeks to live,

What if sanity took it's course,
And sent you straight to bed,

What if the angels began to sing,
High above the sky,

What if time old lovers,
Came back to say goodbye,

What if you kept it really secret,
And then one day just died,

What if all you family members,
Sat all day and cried,

What if all you could do,
Was wait until the end,

What if you sat around all day,
and cried for what you couldn't try

What If nobody really cared,
Your death wasn't even a scare.

What if I was at your side,
The unfortunate day you died,

What If someone told you,
You only had 2 more weeks to live,
Would you remember me?

Burned

Once upon a time a girl decided to play with fire.

Once upon a time that girl got burned.

Once upon a time there was no way to heal her wounds.

Once upon a little girl got scarred.

That girl was me.

I was always going to be an outcast, nobody ever told me, but I knew.  I hid in the corner during playtime, even before the burn, and counted to tiny lines on my hand.  Once I heard that the longest line was supposed to be the lifeline, and the longer it was, the longer you were going to live.  I wanted to see how mine compared to the other kids, but their pointed fingers and mocking glares kept me at a safe distance.  My mom had died giving birth, and my father was an alcoholic.  My aunt came over most of the time to watch me and cook dinner, but sometimes when my dad and I were alone, he would slap me and call me nasty things.  I hated him up until the day he got killed in a drive by shooting.  Later, after all the legal papers were filled out and such, I was up for adoption.  My aunt was my legal guardian, but she claimed that caring for a small child like myself was too much work for her frail body to keep up with.  Lucky me got adopted a year later by a family by the name of Greene and moved out west to Oklahoma. We lived in a tiny ranch on the upper tip of the pot handle and my "mom" always claimed that the stars never shined brighter than right here, over the roof of their tiny 2 story house.  I went to school, had a relatively normal life, ate normally, worked normally, counted normally, but I was not normal.  At most I spoke hardly three words a day, and I refused to go to public places.  I looked normal, nothing was wrong with me, I just hated people.  People would abandon you and slap you and tell you that you're worthless, which is why I preferred to live in my head, rather than with others.    You could say that I was scarred for life by my past, as the metaphorical saying was strangely ironic, but that's for later. Life itself was hiding from what I knew, my past, my future, my life.  I was all alone in life, no friends, no family, no nothing.  Until the day when I got burned.

The Case of the Curious Cat Food

Chapter one-
I set down my book bag with a heavy thump on the desk, then slouched over to my worn mahogany desk.  More paperwork sat on top of yesterday's pile, and the remainder of Tuesday's.  I took out my pen and prepared for 8 hours of hand labor.  I picked up the first pile of papers and set to work. Three hours later I was rudely interrupted by a heavyset man barging through my door with a scowl the size of Africa taking up most of the space on his pudgy face.  My boss threw a pile of papers at my face and plopped down in the chair across from me.  I was actually surprised when the chair didn't crumple under the weight of his enormous backside.  He eyeballed me as I tidied my desk, seeming oblivious to the anger seething through his ears.   "Miss Greene!" He shouted.  I looked up, surprised to see him there in my beautiful office. "You didn't get the employers signature for page 334 of this packet!  And you spilled ranch dressing all over the cover! Do you realize what this means? " He continued without waiting for me to answer. "This means that 65 of our new employees are gonna be given the paddle!" I cannot afford to throw my employees out the window the way you fill out this paperwork! I hired you as a secretary and you blow off your job to get yourself into these messes that you expect me to clean up, I am very disappointed in you.  One more strike and you're out missy.  I mean it this time!  One more messed up letter and I swear I'll let you go! If this company goes under you will be the only one at fault Miss. Green!" He took a breath and I caught some McDonalds and maybe a bit of syrup from breakfast to the eyebrow. I swept my hand over my eye to wipe it off. The crimson of his face before had now just gone to an off red, his usual shade and I watched as he lumbered off to my door. As soon as he was out of sight I went back to my paperwork. He does this every week.  Comes barreling through my door, demanding to know why I left mascara tracks across the bathroom mirror.  He screams at me for ruining his company and my reputation then trudges out again.  But he never, ever threatened to fire me, and to be frank, I was a bit shaken.                    
------------------------------------------------------                   
 When I opened the door that evening to find that somebody cooking in my kitchen was a bit unnerving.  I threw off my coat, tossed my bag on the coffee table, and walked over to the kitchen.   "Hi honey!" My mother had on her signature sunshine apron and was covered from head to toe in something that slightly resembled cat food, and didn't smell much better.   "Mom……." I trailed off. "This isn't your house," I said slowly, more for my understanding than hers.   "I know sweetie but I'm gonna have to live with you for a little while.  My house is having some issues if you know what I mean."  "No mother I don't and really I don’t want to either.  Take the quest room and, please, stay out of the kitchen.  I hope that I don't need to remind you of what happened last time," Last time my mother's house had it's "issues" she had come here and burned my kitchen to a crisp, literally.  Of course I got a new kitchen out of it but that isn't the point.   "Thanks pumpkin!" My mother said as she ascended the stairwell, suitcase in hand. "Don't mention it," I muttered.  Another month and a half of torture.  Great. Last time my mother had come I didn't know what happened to her house until a week after she left when I read in the paper  LOCAL WOMAN LOSES HOUSE TO HEALTH DEPARTMENT  And of course there was a picture of my mom's house, her in the front yard, holding all ten of her cats.  Let's see, there was Little Tabby, Crazy Katie,  Laughing Lovvy, the list goes on and on.  Turns out her cats were doing their business in certain places and when my mom started to smell the youknowwhat, she called me over to investigate.  I walked in the door and walked right back out again.  From there I ran home, called the health department, and a week later my mom shows up at my door wanting to stay with me.  I really need anti-stress pills.   Something crashes to the floor upstairs and I hear my mother scream- "It is ok.  Nothing is broken." Then under her breath she adds, "Not really" Later I hear the vacuum cleaner start to life and I groan.  That woman is a walking tornado.           -------------------------------------------------------------
The next morning I wake up to the sound of pounding at the front door. I get up and pull back the curtains to see who it was, and I am greeted by the sight of four cop cars and my mother walking out the front door with a confused expression painted on her face.  Not good.  I looked to my clock, 7:15 am. Darn it.  Now not only were there four police cars in my driveway but I was also late to work.  I grabbed my robe and headed outside.   "Excuse me sir, but what is going on out here?" I ask politely.  The obvious man in charge motions for one of the other men there with him to tend to me.  "We were called here to investigate a robbery of cat food from the local Walgreens,"  "Why would they send four cops over to investigate a cat food robbery? What did they do, use the food to knock out the checkout clerk?" "No.  They used the cat food to feed all the cats in the pet store.  The lady working the shift at the pet shop said that the lady just walked in like she owned the place, took each of the cats out of their cages, and started feeding them a bunch of cat food.  Apparently these cats were on a special diet and they couldn't eat anything other than 2 cups of HappyCat Food per day."   "Oh.  Well can't you let her go? She's just a sweet old lady!" "A sweet old lady with a knack for getting through locked doors!"  The best idea ever came to me right then and there. "Okay fine.  Take her away.  I don't care."  "You better not care because you don't exactly have a choice in this matter" "Excuse me? She's my mother!" "She's a criminal!" "I always knew that this day would come."  "What when your mother got arrested?"  "No when I'd start defending my mother," I sighed.  The cop stifled a laugh and turned back to his boss. "Take her away." He motioned towards my mother. "This one-" he waved towards me- "Can stay.  She is no use to us." I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and walked back to my house.  I was about to slam the door behind me when I heard something that I knew was coming.  My mother was trying to fight off the cop and the cop was reaching for his taser.  I contemplated just walking back into the house, but I couldn't leave my mother like this.  I walked back down the driveway to the head cop trying to sustain my mother while he charged his taser.   "Hey mom," she looked up, surprised. "This man is just going to take you down to the station. He needs to ask you a few questions," I looked to the cop.  "Is that right?" I asked him.  "Yes your daughter is right. We will not hurt you as long as you cooperate and get in the cruiser." I looked at my mother, pleading her to do as the cop says.  Finally my wish is answered when she stops fighting the handcuffs and  lets herself be dragged away into the car.  Five minutes later the cruisers are all gone and I am in the shower, getting ready for work.             ----------------------------------------------------------------                 
TO BE CONTINUED