Remember(a poem from a soldier)
Remember me?
I am your brother gone to war.
Do you know why?
You are the one I'm fighting for.
Sometimes the bad comes along
And it hurts the ones you love
But it's the one's you love, that keep you going strong.
I remember. . .that day I watched the flag pass by
It's colors of red, white, and blue were mounted up on high.
I felt that surge of pride swell within my chest,
And since that day not a moment goes by I remember how much I've been blessed.
And so when Uncle Sam called his sons to fight the fight,
I joined my brothers up in arms to fight for what is right.
I remember. . .the sound of men screaming in pain and in death.
My brothers died less from lead, but more from failing in health.
The enemy was strong and determined they should win.
I knew that giving up would be giving in to sin.
And so I carried on, determined to come back to you,
But when we won the fight, some boys died- a lot, not just a few.
Do you remember. . .that day you watched the flag pass by,
To give one last salute, to a soldier gone to rest up on high. . .
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
"In Germany, they came first for the Communists, And I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Communist;
And then they came for the trade unionists, And I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a trade unionist;
And then they came for the Jews, And I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Jew;
And then... they came for me... And by that time there was no one left to speak up."
-Martin Niemöller
This was quoted during the Holocaust. Look at what happended because no one spoke up. That fear of an evil power caused many to remain silent because of what that evil power would do. The result is something too horrific to even think about. The silent majority will always be overpowered by the loud minority. Fear is understandable. Everyone fears, but the strength to overcome that fear is very powerful. The events of the Holocaust were terrible, but they need to be remembered. That is the best way we can reverence those who were made victims of its terribleness.
And then they came for the trade unionists, And I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a trade unionist;
And then they came for the Jews, And I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Jew;
And then... they came for me... And by that time there was no one left to speak up."
-Martin Niemöller
This was quoted during the Holocaust. Look at what happended because no one spoke up. That fear of an evil power caused many to remain silent because of what that evil power would do. The result is something too horrific to even think about. The silent majority will always be overpowered by the loud minority. Fear is understandable. Everyone fears, but the strength to overcome that fear is very powerful. The events of the Holocaust were terrible, but they need to be remembered. That is the best way we can reverence those who were made victims of its terribleness.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Ever since I was little, I have always wanted to get a horse of my own. I have had horses to ride, but they all belong to Ball Bros., the company we work with. Well Friday I finally got my horse. Her name is Lil. I was having a hard time coming up with a name for her and then my dad suggested this one. It was the name of a horse he had had when he was younger. I really liked it and it seeme
d to fit her very well. She is a one year old filly. She is a red roan and she is one of the prettiest horses I have ever seen. She is very speedy and she likes to run around the pen and show off. Sometimes when I am standing in there with her, she will run like she is going to run right over the top of me and then take a hard turn at the last second. This is her idea of playing. She doesn't liked to be touched very much, especially around her face, but occasionally she will let you pet her. She is the friendliest when I have oats:) I can't ride her yet because she is too young, but next spring I can start breaking her. I'm way excited!
d to fit her very well. She is a one year old filly. She is a red roan and she is one of the prettiest horses I have ever seen. She is very speedy and she likes to run around the pen and show off. Sometimes when I am standing in there with her, she will run like she is going to run right over the top of me and then take a hard turn at the last second. This is her idea of playing. She doesn't liked to be touched very much, especially around her face, but occasionally she will let you pet her. She is the friendliest when I have oats:) I can't ride her yet because she is too young, but next spring I can start breaking her. I'm way excited!Friday, May 8, 2009
Another excerpt
They broke through the crowd and the boy was at the epicenter of the riotous men, what they had all been shouting at. There was a crude rope that formed a ring around two boy no older than sixteen or seventeen. Both wore only their pants. Their torsos were bare. they both had their hands balled in tight fists and raised in a fighting stance. Both boys were bruised and bloody. Sweat was dripping off their face. Street fighting.
The men screamed their dismay at the pause. They had come to see a fight, not a staring match. With a ferocious cry the larger of the two boys jumped forward and drove a smashing right hook in, drilling the smaller boy in the jaw. he grunted and stepped back. His opponent took advantage. He drilled the boy repeatedly, forcing him back each time. Slowly the bigger boy forced his opponent to the edge of the rope. The smaller boy immediately realized his predicament. He could see the bigger boy building up momentum for his final hit. He poised himself and as the fist of the bigger boy flew towards him. He jumped away to the side, propelling himself away using both hand to push off the bare side of the bigger boy.
With a howl of anger, the bigger boy went flying from the circle, driven by his own momentum. He fell to ground, cursing and livid. He had lost. The smaller boy was bent over and heaving in the center of the ring. He was quickly wiping blood away from his mouth and spitting it into the dirt. But none of the drunken men cared. Instead they shouted for the next contender to step forth.
amidst the pandemonium, the boy caught site of a familiar hat bobbing amongst the crowd. It had the familiar burned shape on the back.
"Pa!" he ran across the ring trying to reach his pa. a sudden loud cheer went up from the crowd of drunken men. As he reached the other side, he found it barred by a wall of men. "Let me through please. E wanna see my Pa!" the men ignored him and shoved him back. The boy fell over backwards from the push, but quickly picked himself up. He moved again towards his Pa who was now staring at him with bewilderment, but a man caught his arm and dragged him to the center. The boy was flung around to meet the smaller boy who no longer looked so small.
"Your name boy!" the man that had a hold of him shouted. Fear gripped the boy as the man shook him impatiently.
"Your name!" the boy finally mustered the breath to reply.
"Edward." the man shook his head.
"John Jo verses Eddie!" suddenly the man let go and before Eddie could turn to run he was being drilled in the gut repeatedly. He was backing away and moving his arms to protect himself in vain.
"Come on Eddie, fight back!" Eddie recognized the voice as his pa's. Pa had never said a word of encouragement to Eddie in his life. A sudden left hook drilled Eddie in the stomach. He screamed and fell to his back out of the circle. The crowd was cheering, but not for Eddie. The boy-wounded and broken-turned to find his Pa, searching for a safe haven. He found him glaring from a distance. The crowd became silent when a man shouted, "Hey Bill! Ain't that your boy lyin' on the ground?" Eddie watched the hate boil in his father's eyes. Eddie had humiliated him, just like always. Bill spoke clearly for all to hear, bu he stared directly at Eddie.
"He ain't no son of mine." Bill turned and disappeared.
They broke through the crowd and the boy was at the epicenter of the riotous men, what they had all been shouting at. There was a crude rope that formed a ring around two boy no older than sixteen or seventeen. Both wore only their pants. Their torsos were bare. they both had their hands balled in tight fists and raised in a fighting stance. Both boys were bruised and bloody. Sweat was dripping off their face. Street fighting.
The men screamed their dismay at the pause. They had come to see a fight, not a staring match. With a ferocious cry the larger of the two boys jumped forward and drove a smashing right hook in, drilling the smaller boy in the jaw. he grunted and stepped back. His opponent took advantage. He drilled the boy repeatedly, forcing him back each time. Slowly the bigger boy forced his opponent to the edge of the rope. The smaller boy immediately realized his predicament. He could see the bigger boy building up momentum for his final hit. He poised himself and as the fist of the bigger boy flew towards him. He jumped away to the side, propelling himself away using both hand to push off the bare side of the bigger boy.
With a howl of anger, the bigger boy went flying from the circle, driven by his own momentum. He fell to ground, cursing and livid. He had lost. The smaller boy was bent over and heaving in the center of the ring. He was quickly wiping blood away from his mouth and spitting it into the dirt. But none of the drunken men cared. Instead they shouted for the next contender to step forth.
amidst the pandemonium, the boy caught site of a familiar hat bobbing amongst the crowd. It had the familiar burned shape on the back.
"Pa!" he ran across the ring trying to reach his pa. a sudden loud cheer went up from the crowd of drunken men. As he reached the other side, he found it barred by a wall of men. "Let me through please. E wanna see my Pa!" the men ignored him and shoved him back. The boy fell over backwards from the push, but quickly picked himself up. He moved again towards his Pa who was now staring at him with bewilderment, but a man caught his arm and dragged him to the center. The boy was flung around to meet the smaller boy who no longer looked so small.
"Your name boy!" the man that had a hold of him shouted. Fear gripped the boy as the man shook him impatiently.
"Your name!" the boy finally mustered the breath to reply.
"Edward." the man shook his head.
"John Jo verses Eddie!" suddenly the man let go and before Eddie could turn to run he was being drilled in the gut repeatedly. He was backing away and moving his arms to protect himself in vain.
"Come on Eddie, fight back!" Eddie recognized the voice as his pa's. Pa had never said a word of encouragement to Eddie in his life. A sudden left hook drilled Eddie in the stomach. He screamed and fell to his back out of the circle. The crowd was cheering, but not for Eddie. The boy-wounded and broken-turned to find his Pa, searching for a safe haven. He found him glaring from a distance. The crowd became silent when a man shouted, "Hey Bill! Ain't that your boy lyin' on the ground?" Eddie watched the hate boil in his father's eyes. Eddie had humiliated him, just like always. Bill spoke clearly for all to hear, bu he stared directly at Eddie.
"He ain't no son of mine." Bill turned and disappeared.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
This was a story I was just kind of playing around with:)
The sky was an overcast gray. Street lamps had been lit earlier than they usually were in the evening. Men in black trench coats had pulled their collars up in hopes of keeping out the cold. Women rushed along the streets holding tightly to their coats as if warding off the cold by sheer will power. Only one seemed to not be aggravated by the bite of the wind. A small boy, about 12 or 13, sat staring almost uncomprehending to the cold. His brown wool jacket was worn from use. The wooden buttons had been worn smooth from being pulled through the course button holes so many times. The ends of his trousers were frayed from the element of time. The knees of these forlorn looking trousers were worn straight to his scraped and bony knees. The slabs of leather on his feet were hardly worth calling shoes, though at one time, they had seen a better day. To top off his attire, the boy wore a worn cap atop his shaggy blond hair. His gaunt and wind burned face bore no trace of expression. But if anyone of the arrogant passersby would have stopped and really looked at the kid, his eyes would have screamed his pain and humiliation. They wove a story of great sorrow, betrayal, and hurt. Those eyes would have haunted their memories for the rest of their days. But no one stopped and boy continued to sit and stare impassively across the street.
Across the street stood an old apartment building. It was still lived in, but the red brick structure looked neglected. A large oak door barricaded unwanted visitors from witnessing what was inside. It looked just as haggard as the boy sitting across the street. But unlike the boy, the door showed every badge of hurt to an uncaring audience. It proclaimed with resolute anger all of its abuses. The boy was withdrawn and contained, not like the sails of a ship before they were flung wildly about in a horrific tempest, but like an abandoned stray dog, broken and resigned to his status of starving for attention that he would never get.
Down the street, walking at a leisurely pace walked a man. . . The first thing that anyone noticed about the man was that he wore a large black patch over his right eye. His brown hair was cropped short and tinted with gray and silver streaks. He wore a long brown trench coat. It looked as though the sun had shined on it in a better day. The man's shoulders were slightly hunched forward. But even for all his badges of poverty, he walked with an odd step of humbled pride. he held his straight forward looking into the icy jaws of the north wind. His walk bore a hazy reminder to a life once lead, but forgotten to a cruel and heartless world.
The man was staring intently at the boy sitting on the crates. . . The boy could hear the man advancing but ignored him as he had the others that had passed him by. The man stopped directly in front of the boy, as if commanding the boy's attention to him. The boy continued to stare, as though staring right through the stranger. . . Finally the man spoke. His voice was deep and sounded somewhat tired.
"You look like you ain't got no hope left boy." When the boy answered his voice was guarded and held little emotion.
"Ain't no such thing as hope." the boy continued to stare down the street. . . If the boy would have looked at the stranger then, he would have seen a small smile flicker across his tired face.
"We are all born with hope in our hearts boy. Otherwise we wouldn't have the power to live."
The boy turned his head and raised it so he could see the stranger. He studied the eyes of the man, searching for sarcasm.
"Hope's only for the rich folks. Some of us don't have a choice if'n we wanna live. We just have to cuz someones gotta do all the work for the rich folks." the boy maintained a steady stare into the stranger's eyes. It was almost as if he was daring the man to contradict him. The man simply stared back. Finally, unnerved by the penetrating stare of the young boy, the stranger sat down beside him on the crate.
"You're wrong. Rich men only have an easier time to hope for things. But they are shallow and of little worth most a the time. They should be hopin that they can be as smart as you." the boy gave out a short burst of breath. It was the closest thing to a laugh for him in a long time.
"I ain't smart mister. My Pa made sure I knew that." the boy became silent as though he had said too much. The stranger respected the silence for only a short amount of time. He glanced over at the boy and noted that he was slumped up against the wall and staring into his dirty palms.
"Where is your Pa, boy?" he was answered with silence. The stranger quickly concluded that the boy's father was gone. He gave a small knowing smile. He had heard this story before.
"You look starved. Come along an' I'll fetch ya some grub." the man could see the boys hands clench tightly together. He was starving, but he wasn't going to let that man know.
"Come on boy. Yer goin' to get pneumonia out here sittin'." the stranger was silent as he waited, hoping he had convinced the boy. Suddenly an idea occurred. It was far fetched, but he was hoping the boy would fall for it. "Your Pa wants ya to come with me." the boy turned with wide eyes to look.
"You've seen Pa?" the moved as though to stand, but then leaned back as if on second thought.
"You sure you know my Pa? I ain't never seen you 'afore." the stranger nodded.
"Does your Pa introduce you to all his drinkin' buddies?" the boy continued to look at him disbelievingly. Slowly the logic of what the stranger said kicked in.
"Will you take me to my Pa and he can come eat with us too?" the stranger nodded. The boy held out a quivering hand. He held it there, waiting and then the stranger grasped it and shook.
"Now follow me lad." the boy rose weakly from his seat and followed after the man.
The sky was an overcast gray. Street lamps had been lit earlier than they usually were in the evening. Men in black trench coats had pulled their collars up in hopes of keeping out the cold. Women rushed along the streets holding tightly to their coats as if warding off the cold by sheer will power. Only one seemed to not be aggravated by the bite of the wind. A small boy, about 12 or 13, sat staring almost uncomprehending to the cold. His brown wool jacket was worn from use. The wooden buttons had been worn smooth from being pulled through the course button holes so many times. The ends of his trousers were frayed from the element of time. The knees of these forlorn looking trousers were worn straight to his scraped and bony knees. The slabs of leather on his feet were hardly worth calling shoes, though at one time, they had seen a better day. To top off his attire, the boy wore a worn cap atop his shaggy blond hair. His gaunt and wind burned face bore no trace of expression. But if anyone of the arrogant passersby would have stopped and really looked at the kid, his eyes would have screamed his pain and humiliation. They wove a story of great sorrow, betrayal, and hurt. Those eyes would have haunted their memories for the rest of their days. But no one stopped and boy continued to sit and stare impassively across the street.
Across the street stood an old apartment building. It was still lived in, but the red brick structure looked neglected. A large oak door barricaded unwanted visitors from witnessing what was inside. It looked just as haggard as the boy sitting across the street. But unlike the boy, the door showed every badge of hurt to an uncaring audience. It proclaimed with resolute anger all of its abuses. The boy was withdrawn and contained, not like the sails of a ship before they were flung wildly about in a horrific tempest, but like an abandoned stray dog, broken and resigned to his status of starving for attention that he would never get.
Down the street, walking at a leisurely pace walked a man. . . The first thing that anyone noticed about the man was that he wore a large black patch over his right eye. His brown hair was cropped short and tinted with gray and silver streaks. He wore a long brown trench coat. It looked as though the sun had shined on it in a better day. The man's shoulders were slightly hunched forward. But even for all his badges of poverty, he walked with an odd step of humbled pride. he held his straight forward looking into the icy jaws of the north wind. His walk bore a hazy reminder to a life once lead, but forgotten to a cruel and heartless world.
The man was staring intently at the boy sitting on the crates. . . The boy could hear the man advancing but ignored him as he had the others that had passed him by. The man stopped directly in front of the boy, as if commanding the boy's attention to him. The boy continued to stare, as though staring right through the stranger. . . Finally the man spoke. His voice was deep and sounded somewhat tired.
"You look like you ain't got no hope left boy." When the boy answered his voice was guarded and held little emotion.
"Ain't no such thing as hope." the boy continued to stare down the street. . . If the boy would have looked at the stranger then, he would have seen a small smile flicker across his tired face.
"We are all born with hope in our hearts boy. Otherwise we wouldn't have the power to live."
The boy turned his head and raised it so he could see the stranger. He studied the eyes of the man, searching for sarcasm.
"Hope's only for the rich folks. Some of us don't have a choice if'n we wanna live. We just have to cuz someones gotta do all the work for the rich folks." the boy maintained a steady stare into the stranger's eyes. It was almost as if he was daring the man to contradict him. The man simply stared back. Finally, unnerved by the penetrating stare of the young boy, the stranger sat down beside him on the crate.
"You're wrong. Rich men only have an easier time to hope for things. But they are shallow and of little worth most a the time. They should be hopin that they can be as smart as you." the boy gave out a short burst of breath. It was the closest thing to a laugh for him in a long time.
"I ain't smart mister. My Pa made sure I knew that." the boy became silent as though he had said too much. The stranger respected the silence for only a short amount of time. He glanced over at the boy and noted that he was slumped up against the wall and staring into his dirty palms.
"Where is your Pa, boy?" he was answered with silence. The stranger quickly concluded that the boy's father was gone. He gave a small knowing smile. He had heard this story before.
"You look starved. Come along an' I'll fetch ya some grub." the man could see the boys hands clench tightly together. He was starving, but he wasn't going to let that man know.
"Come on boy. Yer goin' to get pneumonia out here sittin'." the stranger was silent as he waited, hoping he had convinced the boy. Suddenly an idea occurred. It was far fetched, but he was hoping the boy would fall for it. "Your Pa wants ya to come with me." the boy turned with wide eyes to look.
"You've seen Pa?" the moved as though to stand, but then leaned back as if on second thought.
"You sure you know my Pa? I ain't never seen you 'afore." the stranger nodded.
"Does your Pa introduce you to all his drinkin' buddies?" the boy continued to look at him disbelievingly. Slowly the logic of what the stranger said kicked in.
"Will you take me to my Pa and he can come eat with us too?" the stranger nodded. The boy held out a quivering hand. He held it there, waiting and then the stranger grasped it and shook.
"Now follow me lad." the boy rose weakly from his seat and followed after the man.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Cinderella gone wrong...
Once upon a time, there lived a beautiful woman named Molly. Molly was a widow with two beautiful daughters. One was named Katy and the other was named Sue. Molly, Katy, and Sue all lived in a small cottage on the outskirts of medieval Hamer. Hamer was famous for its calm, sunny days and never ending summers. So naturally, it was a thriving metropolis. Knights and ladies from around the world came to enjoy the tranquil Hamer setting. Being the smart business woman that she was, Molly built a quaint hotel by Camas Creek for the weary travelers. She ran it with the help of her two beautiful daughters. And so they were happy. But not everyone was quite as fortunate as this small family. Unkown to the public lived several lazy people who had nothing because they did nothing and just expected someone else to do all their work. One day, that person came. His name was Walter. Walter believed that everyone needed a fair chance and so he decided that he would make all the "wealthy" people pay so much of their earnings so he could give it to the "financially unstable". Walter had a daughter named Ella. She was the fairest maiden in all the land, but she would never say yes to a proposal because then she would have to share her money with a man. And so she remained with her father, working good acts of service for the less fortunate. Well very few were happy with the arrival of Walter and his beautiful and independant daughter. All except for David who had fallen deeply in love with the beautiful Ella. He came to her house almost every day to give her flowers and a card voiceing his undying love for her, but every day she said the same thing, "I'm too good to be held back by a man." But David continued to call. Little did David know that Katy, the older of Molly's daughter, was in love with him. They had been friends since they were little. But with each failed attempt at winning Ella's hand, David lost hope of ever marrying her. For weeks, the good people of Hamer let themselves be bullied by Walter and his daughter. But businesses began to fail because the owners were paying a lot of their money to Walter and Ella who then gave that money to the lazy people. Owners had to let workers go and so then they were paying more becuase there were more people that Walter and Ella were paying. Finally, they decided they wanted King John to come and see what was being done. He would put a stop to it. They decided to put a ball together and arrange for King John to come without Ella or her father knowing about it. At all of these kinds of gatherings, Walter made everyone that made any money pay large amounts to get in, but the lazy people got in for free. That night, Hamer was stirring with excitment. The Hamerites were excited for their grand ball, and also the unmasking of the evil Walter and his daughter Ella. As usual, Walter posted Ella by the door to gather all the money from the "rich" ball goers. Walter stood at the entrance of the bathroom to gather a little extra from those who really had to go and would pay anything to get in. Before hand, Molly, who was a good friend of the king, had told King John of their predicament. He decided to dress as a wealthy merchant and catch Walter and Ella in the act. As was expected, everyone showed up to the extravagant ball, and unknown to Walter and Ella, came King John. Later on into the evening, King John had to use the bathroom. Walter was quick to hold out his hand demanding the "fee".
"That will be $3 sir." King John stared at Walter. The entire room was silent. Everyone but Walter and Ella knew that it was the king.
"I am King John and you and your daughter are commanded to leave this place. If those people want money, then the lazy people can go to the people that can give them money and get jobs from them and earn their money. They don't need assistance. You may now leave." And so with his head hanging low, Walter started to leave. Not wanting to leave this place where she could make so much money, Ella quickly rushed down the stairs to where David and Katy were standing with all the other people. She tripped and fell losing her shoe. David rushed to pick it up for her, not because he liked her any more, he liked Katy now, but just because he was a gentlman. She smiled at him and then turned to King John.
"I can't leave because I am dating David."
"Um no I'm not." David handed her her shoe and then walked away with Katy. But not wanting her pride to be ruined, Ella told the story differently, the way you have probably heard it today. But that was...the rest of the story.
Once upon a time, there lived a beautiful woman named Molly. Molly was a widow with two beautiful daughters. One was named Katy and the other was named Sue. Molly, Katy, and Sue all lived in a small cottage on the outskirts of medieval Hamer. Hamer was famous for its calm, sunny days and never ending summers. So naturally, it was a thriving metropolis. Knights and ladies from around the world came to enjoy the tranquil Hamer setting. Being the smart business woman that she was, Molly built a quaint hotel by Camas Creek for the weary travelers. She ran it with the help of her two beautiful daughters. And so they were happy. But not everyone was quite as fortunate as this small family. Unkown to the public lived several lazy people who had nothing because they did nothing and just expected someone else to do all their work. One day, that person came. His name was Walter. Walter believed that everyone needed a fair chance and so he decided that he would make all the "wealthy" people pay so much of their earnings so he could give it to the "financially unstable". Walter had a daughter named Ella. She was the fairest maiden in all the land, but she would never say yes to a proposal because then she would have to share her money with a man. And so she remained with her father, working good acts of service for the less fortunate. Well very few were happy with the arrival of Walter and his beautiful and independant daughter. All except for David who had fallen deeply in love with the beautiful Ella. He came to her house almost every day to give her flowers and a card voiceing his undying love for her, but every day she said the same thing, "I'm too good to be held back by a man." But David continued to call. Little did David know that Katy, the older of Molly's daughter, was in love with him. They had been friends since they were little. But with each failed attempt at winning Ella's hand, David lost hope of ever marrying her. For weeks, the good people of Hamer let themselves be bullied by Walter and his daughter. But businesses began to fail because the owners were paying a lot of their money to Walter and Ella who then gave that money to the lazy people. Owners had to let workers go and so then they were paying more becuase there were more people that Walter and Ella were paying. Finally, they decided they wanted King John to come and see what was being done. He would put a stop to it. They decided to put a ball together and arrange for King John to come without Ella or her father knowing about it. At all of these kinds of gatherings, Walter made everyone that made any money pay large amounts to get in, but the lazy people got in for free. That night, Hamer was stirring with excitment. The Hamerites were excited for their grand ball, and also the unmasking of the evil Walter and his daughter Ella. As usual, Walter posted Ella by the door to gather all the money from the "rich" ball goers. Walter stood at the entrance of the bathroom to gather a little extra from those who really had to go and would pay anything to get in. Before hand, Molly, who was a good friend of the king, had told King John of their predicament. He decided to dress as a wealthy merchant and catch Walter and Ella in the act. As was expected, everyone showed up to the extravagant ball, and unknown to Walter and Ella, came King John. Later on into the evening, King John had to use the bathroom. Walter was quick to hold out his hand demanding the "fee".
"That will be $3 sir." King John stared at Walter. The entire room was silent. Everyone but Walter and Ella knew that it was the king.
"I am King John and you and your daughter are commanded to leave this place. If those people want money, then the lazy people can go to the people that can give them money and get jobs from them and earn their money. They don't need assistance. You may now leave." And so with his head hanging low, Walter started to leave. Not wanting to leave this place where she could make so much money, Ella quickly rushed down the stairs to where David and Katy were standing with all the other people. She tripped and fell losing her shoe. David rushed to pick it up for her, not because he liked her any more, he liked Katy now, but just because he was a gentlman. She smiled at him and then turned to King John.
"I can't leave because I am dating David."
"Um no I'm not." David handed her her shoe and then walked away with Katy. But not wanting her pride to be ruined, Ella told the story differently, the way you have probably heard it today. But that was...the rest of the story.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Eyes are way cool if you think about it. I love it when authors describe character's eyes in books. In the Twilight books, Meyers is always describing Edwards eyes and the descriptions are way cool. Whenever I get bored, I think it's fun to look at peoples eyes and see what colors they are. Eyes are fascinating to me.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
here is yet another excerpt :)
Clureax found her arm to still be stiff as she tried to throw the blue tunic over the clothes line outside Oshgah’s tent. Only a week had passed and yet the wound was well on its way to being healed. Clureax no longer felt the continual ache, though the memory of the sword slashing through her flesh burned hotly at the vanguard of her mind. Even as she thought of it at that moment she couldn’t help but cringe. The pain became intense and she found herself growing dizzy.
It took Clureax a very short while to seat herself on the ground next to a tree. The green swirling mass around her slowed to a more focused picture of leaves and trees. She took deep slow breaths in an attempt to calm herself down. The aching was returning as her body began to feel more connected and the light-weight feeling of before crashed with the reality of gravity. Clureax slumped even more heavily against the tree as exhaustion began to sink in.
The past couple days had passed slowly and painfully for Clureax. She found that sitting around and being waited on was a bore and that she would prefer to help Oshgah and Tyla with their daily tasks, or at least be able to help Perlobb clean weapons or even just to care for her stallion. She knew that the others had grown tired of instructing her to sit down and relax.
After a couple of minutes of sitting weightily against the tree, Clureax raised her weary body up, and not without difficulty, began to move away from the tents. She found herself wandering through the trees at a turtle’s pace, but then, where was there for her to go that required much speed?
As she roamed through the trees, Clureax couldn’t help but take in the grandeur of it all. The leaves held daintily to the outstretched branches. A breeze gently caressed the sails of the branches and caused them to dance in the air. Flowers and blades of grass nodded at her as she passed. The breeze occasionally strengthened and caused the grass to bow closer to the earth. Then it would calm and the grass would erect back to its former position. The river could be heard as it rushed by on the other side of the barricade of foliage. Taking a deep breath, Clureax reached her hand forward and pushed aside branches and slid through the curtain of trees. On the other side, her body relaxed as she took in the comforting sight of Waiting Beach.
Waiting Beach had been a place where Clureax would wait for her father when she was younger. She could see the Waiting Tree that stood on the edge of the beach close to the water’s edge. Its thick and gnarled trunk still held the same patterns of steps that she had journeyed up every day to wait for her saupsi. The trees seemed to form a protective wall around the sandy haven. Only one person could slide through at a time and they had to force their way through. From the river, it looked nearly impossible to get through.
There in the middle of the beach was Pond Rock. The rock had been eroded down in the center to form a perfect little pool. Whenever it rained, the little pool filled up. Birds could always be found bathing in the pool after a good rain. It still stood tall and resolute. It reached higher than Clureax and she had always loved climbing up it to see if any water had gathered in it after a good rain.
Clureax found her vision blurring as she stared at this sacred piece of ground. So many memories of her saupsi’s homecomings were filling her mind. She could remember all the times that he asked the oarsmen to row closer to the shore for him. He would dismount and wade the last two feet up the beach to meet up with Clureax. The rafts would continue onward to where the men would unload them from the water.
The reunions between Clureax and Saupsi had always been sweet. So much had to be said and so little time granted it. Clureax could still remember the way Saupsi always acted so interested in even the most boring of things. He would always bring her back a small gift and always he would say, “This little object cried out to me as I passed and told me of how it longed to meet the infamous Clureax! So I brought it home to see my little Clurry.” he would then smile and tuck the small object into her small child hands.
Clureax looked down at her hands and found that she had squeezed them tightly together at the memory. It caused her arm to hurt from the force with which she was squeezing. But she felt that if she loosened her grasp, all the memories would slip away and she would be left completely alone.
She suddenly shook her head and slowly unwound her tightly squeezed fingers. Again she could feel the dizziness of reality setting in and she weaved her way slowly to the fuzzy outline of Pond Rock. Upon reaching it, she lay down against it, completely exhausted. Her breathing was short and labored. She tilted her head back against the rock and slowly abandoned her aching body to sleep. But before her mind went completely unconscious to the world surrounding her, she gave a small pitiful cry, “I miss you Saupsi.” and then she closed her tear streaked eyes.
This was how Oshgah found her a short while later. The old woman’s heart broke at the vulnerability of a young girl who had been forced to grow up faster than she was supposed to. She wished that she could shield her from all of the secrets and the stories. The young girl didn’t need to know about a broken past. She didn’t need the weight of the lives of three hundred and fifty men on her shoulders either. She was just too young for all the responsibilities life had bestowed upon her. Not wanting the young girl to strain herself, Oshgah left to go and fetch Perlobb.
Clureax found her arm to still be stiff as she tried to throw the blue tunic over the clothes line outside Oshgah’s tent. Only a week had passed and yet the wound was well on its way to being healed. Clureax no longer felt the continual ache, though the memory of the sword slashing through her flesh burned hotly at the vanguard of her mind. Even as she thought of it at that moment she couldn’t help but cringe. The pain became intense and she found herself growing dizzy.
It took Clureax a very short while to seat herself on the ground next to a tree. The green swirling mass around her slowed to a more focused picture of leaves and trees. She took deep slow breaths in an attempt to calm herself down. The aching was returning as her body began to feel more connected and the light-weight feeling of before crashed with the reality of gravity. Clureax slumped even more heavily against the tree as exhaustion began to sink in.
The past couple days had passed slowly and painfully for Clureax. She found that sitting around and being waited on was a bore and that she would prefer to help Oshgah and Tyla with their daily tasks, or at least be able to help Perlobb clean weapons or even just to care for her stallion. She knew that the others had grown tired of instructing her to sit down and relax.
After a couple of minutes of sitting weightily against the tree, Clureax raised her weary body up, and not without difficulty, began to move away from the tents. She found herself wandering through the trees at a turtle’s pace, but then, where was there for her to go that required much speed?
As she roamed through the trees, Clureax couldn’t help but take in the grandeur of it all. The leaves held daintily to the outstretched branches. A breeze gently caressed the sails of the branches and caused them to dance in the air. Flowers and blades of grass nodded at her as she passed. The breeze occasionally strengthened and caused the grass to bow closer to the earth. Then it would calm and the grass would erect back to its former position. The river could be heard as it rushed by on the other side of the barricade of foliage. Taking a deep breath, Clureax reached her hand forward and pushed aside branches and slid through the curtain of trees. On the other side, her body relaxed as she took in the comforting sight of Waiting Beach.
Waiting Beach had been a place where Clureax would wait for her father when she was younger. She could see the Waiting Tree that stood on the edge of the beach close to the water’s edge. Its thick and gnarled trunk still held the same patterns of steps that she had journeyed up every day to wait for her saupsi. The trees seemed to form a protective wall around the sandy haven. Only one person could slide through at a time and they had to force their way through. From the river, it looked nearly impossible to get through.
There in the middle of the beach was Pond Rock. The rock had been eroded down in the center to form a perfect little pool. Whenever it rained, the little pool filled up. Birds could always be found bathing in the pool after a good rain. It still stood tall and resolute. It reached higher than Clureax and she had always loved climbing up it to see if any water had gathered in it after a good rain.
Clureax found her vision blurring as she stared at this sacred piece of ground. So many memories of her saupsi’s homecomings were filling her mind. She could remember all the times that he asked the oarsmen to row closer to the shore for him. He would dismount and wade the last two feet up the beach to meet up with Clureax. The rafts would continue onward to where the men would unload them from the water.
The reunions between Clureax and Saupsi had always been sweet. So much had to be said and so little time granted it. Clureax could still remember the way Saupsi always acted so interested in even the most boring of things. He would always bring her back a small gift and always he would say, “This little object cried out to me as I passed and told me of how it longed to meet the infamous Clureax! So I brought it home to see my little Clurry.” he would then smile and tuck the small object into her small child hands.
Clureax looked down at her hands and found that she had squeezed them tightly together at the memory. It caused her arm to hurt from the force with which she was squeezing. But she felt that if she loosened her grasp, all the memories would slip away and she would be left completely alone.
She suddenly shook her head and slowly unwound her tightly squeezed fingers. Again she could feel the dizziness of reality setting in and she weaved her way slowly to the fuzzy outline of Pond Rock. Upon reaching it, she lay down against it, completely exhausted. Her breathing was short and labored. She tilted her head back against the rock and slowly abandoned her aching body to sleep. But before her mind went completely unconscious to the world surrounding her, she gave a small pitiful cry, “I miss you Saupsi.” and then she closed her tear streaked eyes.
This was how Oshgah found her a short while later. The old woman’s heart broke at the vulnerability of a young girl who had been forced to grow up faster than she was supposed to. She wished that she could shield her from all of the secrets and the stories. The young girl didn’t need to know about a broken past. She didn’t need the weight of the lives of three hundred and fifty men on her shoulders either. She was just too young for all the responsibilities life had bestowed upon her. Not wanting the young girl to strain herself, Oshgah left to go and fetch Perlobb.
Monday, April 27, 2009
The little kid questions inspired a post...
Why do boy babies get dressed in blue and girls in pink?
I have always wondered why girl babies were always dressed in pink and boys were always in blue. It's kind of a stereotype. Since pink is a girl color, then obviously it is the perfect color for baby girls, but I've seen lots of guys wear pink and I have seen lots of girls wear blue. But according to little kids, the reason that parents dress their kids in pink and blue was so that other people could tell if the baby was a boy or a girl. One little girl said that her parents didn't dress her in pink all the time becasue she had enough hair that they didn't have a hard time telling if she was a boy or a girl:)
Why do boy babies get dressed in blue and girls in pink?
I have always wondered why girl babies were always dressed in pink and boys were always in blue. It's kind of a stereotype. Since pink is a girl color, then obviously it is the perfect color for baby girls, but I've seen lots of guys wear pink and I have seen lots of girls wear blue. But according to little kids, the reason that parents dress their kids in pink and blue was so that other people could tell if the baby was a boy or a girl. One little girl said that her parents didn't dress her in pink all the time becasue she had enough hair that they didn't have a hard time telling if she was a boy or a girl:)
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Questions
Why do we have to learn math that we probably will never use for the rest of our life?
Why do girls get offended so much easier than guys?
Why do people break laws when they know they are going to get in trouble, and even if they don't get caught, don't they realize that they are going to have a guilty conscience?
Why is it that when people fight, they usually say sorry afterwards, even though they will probably fight with that person again?
Why don't they just stop fighting forever?
Why are people so shallow sometimes? All they can think about is themselves and it's like no one else matters.
Why do we have to learn math that we probably will never use for the rest of our life?
Why do girls get offended so much easier than guys?
Why do people break laws when they know they are going to get in trouble, and even if they don't get caught, don't they realize that they are going to have a guilty conscience?
Why is it that when people fight, they usually say sorry afterwards, even though they will probably fight with that person again?
Why don't they just stop fighting forever?
Why are people so shallow sometimes? All they can think about is themselves and it's like no one else matters.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
wAtER meLOn...hot summer day sitting at a picnic table next to a horde of screaming and excited cousins. The reason, the big juicy wAtER meLOn that your grandpa is bringing out. You can't wait because what little kid doesn't love wAtER meLOn? wAtER meLOn is probably my one of my most favorite fruits. I like the texture and the juicy taste, and I love spitting the seeds out and seeing how far I can get them to go:)
Branding
I love branding. I enjoy finally being able to be outside and not be freezing(most of the time). To me branding means that spring is finally in full swing because the cows will leave to go out on the grass not too long after. When we brand we use Nord Forks. They are an amazing invention that makes branding so much easier. The cowboy ropes the calf by his heels and then the calf is dragged to these forks. These forks are attatched to a rope which is attached to a deflated inner tube which is attatched to a bungie rope and that rope is attatched to a stake in the ground whoo! As the calf is dragged by these forks by the cowboy, the headcatcher sets the fork over the calfs neck and then the cowboy and his horse pull the rope just tight enough so that the calf can't move and then he is branded and given his shots(that's what I do) and then they pull the off the fork and the cowboy slacks his rope and the calf runs over with the other calves that have been branded. One calf can be done in about 20 seconds, our family has it down to a real art:) And then we gather all of the cows and calves up and take them out to the green grass. Yay!
I love branding. I enjoy finally being able to be outside and not be freezing(most of the time). To me branding means that spring is finally in full swing because the cows will leave to go out on the grass not too long after. When we brand we use Nord Forks. They are an amazing invention that makes branding so much easier. The cowboy ropes the calf by his heels and then the calf is dragged to these forks. These forks are attatched to a rope which is attached to a deflated inner tube which is attatched to a bungie rope and that rope is attatched to a stake in the ground whoo! As the calf is dragged by these forks by the cowboy, the headcatcher sets the fork over the calfs neck and then the cowboy and his horse pull the rope just tight enough so that the calf can't move and then he is branded and given his shots(that's what I do) and then they pull the off the fork and the cowboy slacks his rope and the calf runs over with the other calves that have been branded. One calf can be done in about 20 seconds, our family has it down to a real art:) And then we gather all of the cows and calves up and take them out to the green grass. Yay!
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Snow in April!
This morning I was all set to go running. I could hear the wind howling outside, but told myself that it wouldn't be that bad. I rushed up the stairs to get something to eat before i went running. Out of the corner of my eye I could see a flash of white out the window. No! I turned so I could more fully see what I hoped wasn't real. It was. It was a fresh blanket of snow carpeting the once green grass and brown dirt. I decided against running. My mom started a fire in the fire place because it was kind of chilly owing to the wintry weather. As I was coming up the stairs the smell reminded me of Christmas. That would have been fine if it wasn't April :)
This morning I was all set to go running. I could hear the wind howling outside, but told myself that it wouldn't be that bad. I rushed up the stairs to get something to eat before i went running. Out of the corner of my eye I could see a flash of white out the window. No! I turned so I could more fully see what I hoped wasn't real. It was. It was a fresh blanket of snow carpeting the once green grass and brown dirt. I decided against running. My mom started a fire in the fire place because it was kind of chilly owing to the wintry weather. As I was coming up the stairs the smell reminded me of Christmas. That would have been fine if it wasn't April :)
Monday, April 13, 2009
here is another excerpt from my book.....
Turning around, they found their way barred by a group of about twenty cutthroats. Only two were mounted on steeds that were partially worthy to even have made it as far as they had. The pathetic creatures looked underfed and their ribs seemed to be struggling to puncture through the hides that were stretched across their body. The animal’s eyes were wide with excitement at having found two more horses. But at the same time, they held an insane hunger and thirst. If not for having gentle dispositions, they might have been the meanest animals.
The cutthroats smiled showing a smile full of crooked almost black teeth. They waved their swords threateningly. They supposed these two were headed to their treasure. From the looks of fear they gave Clureax, it was apparent that they thought she was a man well practiced in the art of sword fighting. When Tyla glanced over at her friend she saw why. Clureax was tightly holding her sword at her side. At the same time, she was giving the men a glaring look that should have stopped them in their tracks. But of course, being cutthroats, they felt they had to prove themselves to be the best.
Clureax glanced towards Tyla and whispered quick directions on what to do.
“Tyla, follow me with your horse. We are going to get those horses away from them if it’s the last thing I do.” Tyla nodded to let Clureax know that she understood, and then braced herself for the task at hand. She felt that Clureax was at an unfair advantage. She faced these sorts of adventures every day. She knew what to expect. Tyla could count the times she had fought on one hand. Now, she found herself wishing that she had paid as good attention as Clureax had to Captain Sartza when he had been teaching them how to fight.
The cutthroats gave a wild cry of anticipation and lunged towards them. Clureax jabbed her horse in the ribs and they jumped up the side of the ravine. Tyla’s mare nearly ran over the top of Clureax, for Tyla was crazily kicking at its sides. There was no way that she was going to get left behind. The two horses struggled higher up the side of the ravine. They were now on the opposite mountain from Shewah Peak.
The two cutthroats on horses urged their mounts up the mountain, heedless of their heaving sides and worn out bodies. The horses did the best they could in climbing up the mountain. They were quickly falling behind the much healthier horses. Suddenly, Clureax wheeled about and stampeded down the mountain to meet the attackers. Her sword was drawn out and as she drew close enough, she began to slash it at the cutthroats on foot, for they were beating the worn out horses. The men began to fall as the sword hit them. One by one they fell and lay still in the grass. After about seven men had fallen this way, the others began to retreat., hoping to save their worthless lives. The two on horses continued to stand firm, not fearing the rider that was coming towards them.
The first contender jumped his horse forward. He was ready to fight. His sword was drawn and the two weapons clashed sending a shower of sparks. That first hit caused him to back his horse down the side a couple of quick steps. Clureax followed. Their swords met once again. This time, they continued to slash at one another. The cutthroat blocked the blows well, but he sent blows back just as well as he blocked them. Clureax wondered if maybe they rode the horses because they were the best at fighting.
Slowly, Clureax backed the cutthroat down the side of the ravine. Swords flashed in the sunlight. Suddenly, the two were on the trail. Clureax found herself to be on the wrong side and found she was being backed down the mountain. As she warded off a blow, she turned her horse and kicked him sending him up the side of the ravine. She turned and found the cutthroat staring at her. Then she realized he was kicking his horse, but the animal was too tired to move. His breathing was short and shallow. Just walking seemed to be an impossibility.
A shout caused both to turn and look. Clureax stifled a gasp at the sight of Tyla trying to fight the other cutthroat. From the looks of things, the best thing Tyla could do was ward off the blows, but not deliver them back. The cutthroat was pushing her and her horse back up the opposite side. If Clureax didn’t intervene, her friend would soon be killed. With an enraged cry, she urged her horse into a gallop in one leap. They flew down the ravine and jumped the trail over onto the other side. The horse jumped its way up the side of the mountain.
Both the horse and the rider were panting when they met up with the other two. Clureax worriedly noted that the other horse had not been pushed as much and was not tiring as quickly as his partner had. Clureax lined herself up with the man and gave a vicious blow towards him. The man saw it out of the corner of his eye and flew his sword around to ward off the blow. For the time being, Tyla was freed from the fight.
Again, Clureax found herself in combat. She swung her sword this way and that and found it to only get warded off each time. The man, at the same time, seemed to be surprised by her energy. Suddenly, the blades caught and they slid down. One of Clureax’s exhausted muscles twitched and her sword fell. The other sword embedded itself into her shoulder. Clureax screamed out in pain. With some difficulty, the man withdrew the sword and then raised it to finish her off. Clureax’s eyes were watering from the pain. She could make out only a blurred figure. Weakly, she raised her sword in a last attempt to save herself. Suddenly, the man lurched forward with a grunt. He paused and then slumped off of his horse and fell to the ground. The horse simply stood their panting.
Clureax cleared her eyes and looked down at the dead man. She now saw the reason. A long arrow protruded from his back. She looked up and smiled. Tyla was brandishing her bow and holding the rains of the other cutthroat’s horse. Clureax turned to look for the other cutthroats. She found them all standing at the bottom looking lost. She realized now, that this man had been their leader and now he was dead.
The last thing Clureax remembered was the sight of Tyla hurrying towards her. Then everything went black. A scream pierced her unconscious thoughts.
Tyla was unsure of how to handle the situation. After Clureax had taken over for her, she had hurried down to where the other cutthroat was. He was still kicking madly at his horse in an attempt to move. The horse ignored him and continued to stand there with his legs spread apart and his head low to the ground, gasping for breath.
Tyla had drawn her bow as she had gotten closer. She took aim and just as she was about to unleash the arrow of death, the man saw her and jumped from his horse. He fled to join the others who all stood at the bottom of the ravine and watched their leader fight the fearless Clureax. Tyla remembered Clureax’s words and grabbed the reins of the horse. The men glared at her, but dared not go close to her with her bow.
Suddenly, Tyla heard a scream. Without looking, she knew who it was. She dropped the reins of the horse and notched an arrow. She knew it was the fastest she had ever done it. She aimed at the man, knowing that if she missed, she would hit Clureax. The man had raised his sword up, preparing to give the final blow. Tyla drew the string back as far as it would go and then let the arrow fly. It covered the distance very quickly, and then embedded itself into the back of the villain. With a grunt, he fell forward and died.
Tyla picked up the reins of the horse and looked up just in time to see Clureax smile and then slump forward and fall off of her horse. Tyla screamed and with much difficulty because of the horse, began to make her way towards Clureax. She found Clureax’s limp body slumped at her horse’s feet. The stallion was worn out from the skirmish. The other horse had moved up away from his rider and was grazing.
Tyla jumped from her horse and rushed to Clureax. She pushed the dead cutthroat away so she could kneel down at her friend’s side. Weeping, she placed her hand gently on the wound. She knew she had to lift Clureax up onto the horse and then get her back to camp. She searched wildly about hoping to find a repentant cutthroat to assist her. They had all fled. Tyla grew impatient with herself, knowing there wasn’t enough time to go back for help. Clureax could bleed to death by then.
Turning around, they found their way barred by a group of about twenty cutthroats. Only two were mounted on steeds that were partially worthy to even have made it as far as they had. The pathetic creatures looked underfed and their ribs seemed to be struggling to puncture through the hides that were stretched across their body. The animal’s eyes were wide with excitement at having found two more horses. But at the same time, they held an insane hunger and thirst. If not for having gentle dispositions, they might have been the meanest animals.
The cutthroats smiled showing a smile full of crooked almost black teeth. They waved their swords threateningly. They supposed these two were headed to their treasure. From the looks of fear they gave Clureax, it was apparent that they thought she was a man well practiced in the art of sword fighting. When Tyla glanced over at her friend she saw why. Clureax was tightly holding her sword at her side. At the same time, she was giving the men a glaring look that should have stopped them in their tracks. But of course, being cutthroats, they felt they had to prove themselves to be the best.
Clureax glanced towards Tyla and whispered quick directions on what to do.
“Tyla, follow me with your horse. We are going to get those horses away from them if it’s the last thing I do.” Tyla nodded to let Clureax know that she understood, and then braced herself for the task at hand. She felt that Clureax was at an unfair advantage. She faced these sorts of adventures every day. She knew what to expect. Tyla could count the times she had fought on one hand. Now, she found herself wishing that she had paid as good attention as Clureax had to Captain Sartza when he had been teaching them how to fight.
The cutthroats gave a wild cry of anticipation and lunged towards them. Clureax jabbed her horse in the ribs and they jumped up the side of the ravine. Tyla’s mare nearly ran over the top of Clureax, for Tyla was crazily kicking at its sides. There was no way that she was going to get left behind. The two horses struggled higher up the side of the ravine. They were now on the opposite mountain from Shewah Peak.
The two cutthroats on horses urged their mounts up the mountain, heedless of their heaving sides and worn out bodies. The horses did the best they could in climbing up the mountain. They were quickly falling behind the much healthier horses. Suddenly, Clureax wheeled about and stampeded down the mountain to meet the attackers. Her sword was drawn out and as she drew close enough, she began to slash it at the cutthroats on foot, for they were beating the worn out horses. The men began to fall as the sword hit them. One by one they fell and lay still in the grass. After about seven men had fallen this way, the others began to retreat., hoping to save their worthless lives. The two on horses continued to stand firm, not fearing the rider that was coming towards them.
The first contender jumped his horse forward. He was ready to fight. His sword was drawn and the two weapons clashed sending a shower of sparks. That first hit caused him to back his horse down the side a couple of quick steps. Clureax followed. Their swords met once again. This time, they continued to slash at one another. The cutthroat blocked the blows well, but he sent blows back just as well as he blocked them. Clureax wondered if maybe they rode the horses because they were the best at fighting.
Slowly, Clureax backed the cutthroat down the side of the ravine. Swords flashed in the sunlight. Suddenly, the two were on the trail. Clureax found herself to be on the wrong side and found she was being backed down the mountain. As she warded off a blow, she turned her horse and kicked him sending him up the side of the ravine. She turned and found the cutthroat staring at her. Then she realized he was kicking his horse, but the animal was too tired to move. His breathing was short and shallow. Just walking seemed to be an impossibility.
A shout caused both to turn and look. Clureax stifled a gasp at the sight of Tyla trying to fight the other cutthroat. From the looks of things, the best thing Tyla could do was ward off the blows, but not deliver them back. The cutthroat was pushing her and her horse back up the opposite side. If Clureax didn’t intervene, her friend would soon be killed. With an enraged cry, she urged her horse into a gallop in one leap. They flew down the ravine and jumped the trail over onto the other side. The horse jumped its way up the side of the mountain.
Both the horse and the rider were panting when they met up with the other two. Clureax worriedly noted that the other horse had not been pushed as much and was not tiring as quickly as his partner had. Clureax lined herself up with the man and gave a vicious blow towards him. The man saw it out of the corner of his eye and flew his sword around to ward off the blow. For the time being, Tyla was freed from the fight.
Again, Clureax found herself in combat. She swung her sword this way and that and found it to only get warded off each time. The man, at the same time, seemed to be surprised by her energy. Suddenly, the blades caught and they slid down. One of Clureax’s exhausted muscles twitched and her sword fell. The other sword embedded itself into her shoulder. Clureax screamed out in pain. With some difficulty, the man withdrew the sword and then raised it to finish her off. Clureax’s eyes were watering from the pain. She could make out only a blurred figure. Weakly, she raised her sword in a last attempt to save herself. Suddenly, the man lurched forward with a grunt. He paused and then slumped off of his horse and fell to the ground. The horse simply stood their panting.
Clureax cleared her eyes and looked down at the dead man. She now saw the reason. A long arrow protruded from his back. She looked up and smiled. Tyla was brandishing her bow and holding the rains of the other cutthroat’s horse. Clureax turned to look for the other cutthroats. She found them all standing at the bottom looking lost. She realized now, that this man had been their leader and now he was dead.
The last thing Clureax remembered was the sight of Tyla hurrying towards her. Then everything went black. A scream pierced her unconscious thoughts.
Tyla was unsure of how to handle the situation. After Clureax had taken over for her, she had hurried down to where the other cutthroat was. He was still kicking madly at his horse in an attempt to move. The horse ignored him and continued to stand there with his legs spread apart and his head low to the ground, gasping for breath.
Tyla had drawn her bow as she had gotten closer. She took aim and just as she was about to unleash the arrow of death, the man saw her and jumped from his horse. He fled to join the others who all stood at the bottom of the ravine and watched their leader fight the fearless Clureax. Tyla remembered Clureax’s words and grabbed the reins of the horse. The men glared at her, but dared not go close to her with her bow.
Suddenly, Tyla heard a scream. Without looking, she knew who it was. She dropped the reins of the horse and notched an arrow. She knew it was the fastest she had ever done it. She aimed at the man, knowing that if she missed, she would hit Clureax. The man had raised his sword up, preparing to give the final blow. Tyla drew the string back as far as it would go and then let the arrow fly. It covered the distance very quickly, and then embedded itself into the back of the villain. With a grunt, he fell forward and died.
Tyla picked up the reins of the horse and looked up just in time to see Clureax smile and then slump forward and fall off of her horse. Tyla screamed and with much difficulty because of the horse, began to make her way towards Clureax. She found Clureax’s limp body slumped at her horse’s feet. The stallion was worn out from the skirmish. The other horse had moved up away from his rider and was grazing.
Tyla jumped from her horse and rushed to Clureax. She pushed the dead cutthroat away so she could kneel down at her friend’s side. Weeping, she placed her hand gently on the wound. She knew she had to lift Clureax up onto the horse and then get her back to camp. She searched wildly about hoping to find a repentant cutthroat to assist her. They had all fled. Tyla grew impatient with herself, knowing there wasn’t enough time to go back for help. Clureax could bleed to death by then.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
.:s:a:g:e::b:r:u:s:h:.
The palm tree of Idaho :) (Some might beg to differ) When I was little I hated sage brush because it meant ticks and work. But as I spent more time out in the sage brush I slowly came to appreciate it. After it has just rained the smell of sage brush is ambrosia. My dad told us stories of when he was on his mission in Virginia. People would have sage brush planted in their front yard and whenever my dad was feeling homesick he would pick some and smell it. I'm sure it took him right back to his sheep herding days :)
The palm tree of Idaho :) (Some might beg to differ) When I was little I hated sage brush because it meant ticks and work. But as I spent more time out in the sage brush I slowly came to appreciate it. After it has just rained the smell of sage brush is ambrosia. My dad told us stories of when he was on his mission in Virginia. People would have sage brush planted in their front yard and whenever my dad was feeling homesick he would pick some and smell it. I'm sure it took him right back to his sheep herding days :)
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
this is an excerpt from my book...
Clureax sat bolt upright, gasping as a sudden pain from her arm clouded her mind. She leaned forward trying to steady her dizziness. As the pain subsided, a dull headache replaced it. She sat perfectly still waiting… waiting for what? She suddenly realized that her dream had not been disturbed by the pain in her arm; rather the pain in her arm was consequential from her waking up so suddenly. There had been a noise.
Clureax stiffened when she heard the noise a second time. Instinctively, she moved her left hand down her side to rest warily on the hilt of her sword since her right arm had little to no strength to even lift the sword. But where her sword should have been she found only the clasp of her belt that held the scabbard for her sword. She silently scolded herself. A good soldier never left camp without protection. She sat rigidly still, waiting and listening. The silence dragged on, and then Clureax jumped to her feet, fighting the whirling scene, struggling to maintain her state of consciousness. She vaguely remembered staring at a tall figure with dark hair and simple clothes. He stood without his sword and held himself in a manner that stated that he wasn’t bothered by a weaponless and weak girl. She hazily remembered being scared. She was defenseless. Everything went black.
Clureax sat bolt upright, gasping as a sudden pain from her arm clouded her mind. She leaned forward trying to steady her dizziness. As the pain subsided, a dull headache replaced it. She sat perfectly still waiting… waiting for what? She suddenly realized that her dream had not been disturbed by the pain in her arm; rather the pain in her arm was consequential from her waking up so suddenly. There had been a noise.
Clureax stiffened when she heard the noise a second time. Instinctively, she moved her left hand down her side to rest warily on the hilt of her sword since her right arm had little to no strength to even lift the sword. But where her sword should have been she found only the clasp of her belt that held the scabbard for her sword. She silently scolded herself. A good soldier never left camp without protection. She sat rigidly still, waiting and listening. The silence dragged on, and then Clureax jumped to her feet, fighting the whirling scene, struggling to maintain her state of consciousness. She vaguely remembered staring at a tall figure with dark hair and simple clothes. He stood without his sword and held himself in a manner that stated that he wasn’t bothered by a weaponless and weak girl. She hazily remembered being scared. She was defenseless. Everything went black.
"People actually do that!?!" this was what was going through my mind the day before the blood drive.
"You can save three lives." Ya but its going to hurt I thought. But I kept telling myself, "You're gonna save three lives." The day arrived and I nervously entered the school. I sat in first hour and tried to block out the sarcastic and freaky comments the boys are saying trying to scare us. 11:15...dooms day! I walk into the gym to see kids and teachers sitting in chairs with white, frightened expressions on their faces. I get through with reading the entire pamphlet and go and sit on the chair to wait to get some tests done to make sure I'm "healthy" enough. The lady calls me over and she starts asking me questions like what my name is, where I live, and my race and so on. Then she pauses and looks at me and asks, "How much do you weigh?" So I told her. I guess there is a weight limit because I didn't quite make it. I had mixed feelings. I was relieved becasue I had been really worried before, but I felt bad because then it would be an entirely new experience for next year. All that worrying for no good reason.
"You can save three lives." Ya but its going to hurt I thought. But I kept telling myself, "You're gonna save three lives." The day arrived and I nervously entered the school. I sat in first hour and tried to block out the sarcastic and freaky comments the boys are saying trying to scare us. 11:15...dooms day! I walk into the gym to see kids and teachers sitting in chairs with white, frightened expressions on their faces. I get through with reading the entire pamphlet and go and sit on the chair to wait to get some tests done to make sure I'm "healthy" enough. The lady calls me over and she starts asking me questions like what my name is, where I live, and my race and so on. Then she pauses and looks at me and asks, "How much do you weigh?" So I told her. I guess there is a weight limit because I didn't quite make it. I had mixed feelings. I was relieved becasue I had been really worried before, but I felt bad because then it would be an entirely new experience for next year. All that worrying for no good reason.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Chinatown
"Twenny dolla!"
"How bout fifteen."
"You cheap! You cheap! Twenny dolla!"
Hesitate "Umm... i really don't need this." Turn to leave.
"No wait! I do it! Fifteen dolla!"
And this is chinatown for you. It was chaos! Little chinese people are everywhere and they all want the ignorant tourist to stop in and pay unnaturally high prices for items that probably will hold little value to the buyer in the future but right then are just too cool to pass up... except for that they are expensive. So the fun of it is to try and lower the price. I thought it was hilarious to watch some of the Chinese. I got one sweater from Chinatown. The lady was about 4' nothing and had an attitude like you wouldn't believe. She was out to make money and no one was going to get in her way. It was all way cool though.
"Twenny dolla!"
"How bout fifteen."
"You cheap! You cheap! Twenny dolla!"
Hesitate "Umm... i really don't need this." Turn to leave.
"No wait! I do it! Fifteen dolla!"
And this is chinatown for you. It was chaos! Little chinese people are everywhere and they all want the ignorant tourist to stop in and pay unnaturally high prices for items that probably will hold little value to the buyer in the future but right then are just too cool to pass up... except for that they are expensive. So the fun of it is to try and lower the price. I thought it was hilarious to watch some of the Chinese. I got one sweater from Chinatown. The lady was about 4' nothing and had an attitude like you wouldn't believe. She was out to make money and no one was going to get in her way. It was all way cool though.
Holocaust Museum
The Holocaust Museum was a very sobering experience. I couldn't believe that people had to go through something so terrible. I couldn't believe that anyone could think up such a disturbing idea as trying to wipe out an entire race. There were pictures and videos that all left me thinking that Hitler was very evil and ridiculously stupid. The pictures of children and just the thought of what they experienced is what bothered me the most. They didn't have a chance. They were killed immediatly. And to think they could have been the founders for a cure for cancer, a world leader that established peace, or just simply someone who made a difference. But they never would be given that opportunity. I think that the Holocaust Museum was a good thing for me to see. Those people need to be remebered and people need to be informed of what can happen if bad people come into control.
The Holocaust Museum was a very sobering experience. I couldn't believe that people had to go through something so terrible. I couldn't believe that anyone could think up such a disturbing idea as trying to wipe out an entire race. There were pictures and videos that all left me thinking that Hitler was very evil and ridiculously stupid. The pictures of children and just the thought of what they experienced is what bothered me the most. They didn't have a chance. They were killed immediatly. And to think they could have been the founders for a cure for cancer, a world leader that established peace, or just simply someone who made a difference. But they never would be given that opportunity. I think that the Holocaust Museum was a good thing for me to see. Those people need to be remebered and people need to be informed of what can happen if bad people come into control.
traveling...........
Ok so i thought that the whole plane and bus ride wasn't going to be too bad. I thought wrong. I have never been so uncomfortable. Take off was amazing and landing wasn't so bad, but the whole waiting thing just didn't work for me. And then comfort. It's hard to sleep comfortably sitting up and trying not to fall asleep with your head and arms hanging out in the aisle. The bus ride home was freezing. But the whole time I had to think, "It's all just part of the American Heritage experience." :)
Ok so i thought that the whole plane and bus ride wasn't going to be too bad. I thought wrong. I have never been so uncomfortable. Take off was amazing and landing wasn't so bad, but the whole waiting thing just didn't work for me. And then comfort. It's hard to sleep comfortably sitting up and trying not to fall asleep with your head and arms hanging out in the aisle. The bus ride home was freezing. But the whole time I had to think, "It's all just part of the American Heritage experience." :)
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Why is it that we live by time? It seems like whenever we have to go somewhere, we are either late or early, but it's never just the right time. In class we are always looking at the clock and thinking about what is going to happen in the next couple of minutes. Why don't we ever live for the minute we are in?
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
one of my dreams...
The walls were damp with a green slime. The air had a cold draft. The walls were similar to the walls of a water well. Slimed over bricks were piled on top of eachother and seemed to go on endlessly in both directions. Forever. All around there were little creatures that could fly. For anyone that has seen Sleeping Beauty they would recognize these creatures as the henchmen of the evil Maleficent. They flew around me and my little sister Lydia. We were sitting in a huge bucket that was attatched to a rope and we were slowly being lowered into a dark abyss of nothingness. I could fly, but my little sister was helpless and at the mercy of our captors. Suddenly, and I don't know why this didn't occur to me earlier, I swooped down and scooped Lydia out of the bucket and a window suddenly appeared in the wall(it's a typical dream) and I crashed through the window with Lydia...and I woke up.
The walls were damp with a green slime. The air had a cold draft. The walls were similar to the walls of a water well. Slimed over bricks were piled on top of eachother and seemed to go on endlessly in both directions. Forever. All around there were little creatures that could fly. For anyone that has seen Sleeping Beauty they would recognize these creatures as the henchmen of the evil Maleficent. They flew around me and my little sister Lydia. We were sitting in a huge bucket that was attatched to a rope and we were slowly being lowered into a dark abyss of nothingness. I could fly, but my little sister was helpless and at the mercy of our captors. Suddenly, and I don't know why this didn't occur to me earlier, I swooped down and scooped Lydia out of the bucket and a window suddenly appeared in the wall(it's a typical dream) and I crashed through the window with Lydia...and I woke up.
Monday, March 23, 2009
character description...
Clureax(Clurr o)-Clureax is the daughter of Surbald, a famous river pirate, a kind of Robin Hood, steal from the rich to give to the poor type of guy. When Surbald gets killed in a battle against the evil King Zhon V, he leaves behind his young daughter to be in charge of his band of river pirates. Clureax is the kind of girl that you wouldn't find cleaning the house, cooking dinner, or sewing socks. She spends her time robbing the rich and giving to the poor. Because of this good deed, there is a hight price on her head. She also denounced King Zhon as king of the land and proclaimed that the real heir to the throne was murdered by the greedy young king. Because the king is struggling to maintain the peace over his land as it is, he vehemenently seeks out the young pirate. Clureax is a very loyal sort of person. Once a friend a friend she will ever remain.
Clureax(Clurr o)-Clureax is the daughter of Surbald, a famous river pirate, a kind of Robin Hood, steal from the rich to give to the poor type of guy. When Surbald gets killed in a battle against the evil King Zhon V, he leaves behind his young daughter to be in charge of his band of river pirates. Clureax is the kind of girl that you wouldn't find cleaning the house, cooking dinner, or sewing socks. She spends her time robbing the rich and giving to the poor. Because of this good deed, there is a hight price on her head. She also denounced King Zhon as king of the land and proclaimed that the real heir to the throne was murdered by the greedy young king. Because the king is struggling to maintain the peace over his land as it is, he vehemenently seeks out the young pirate. Clureax is a very loyal sort of person. Once a friend a friend she will ever remain.
i remember...
being terrified of my first day of school and wondering what kind of a mother left her kid there. i remember racing through the trees on the hill at the crater not wanting to get tagged by the "bad" guy(my cousin)and feeling like i could never get tired. i remember warm sunny days eating popcicles and laying on the hot sidewalk after a cold swim in the cow trough. i remember sledding behind the sleigh while the team pulled it. i remeber the lost and empty feeling at my baby cousins funeral and wondering why he never got to experience life like i had. i remember the euphoric feeling of finishing jr. miss and remebering the fun time i had doing it. i remember feeding lambs at one in the morning hoping that i could get them to have a better life expectancy rate. i remember my dad carrying me into the emergency room after i broke my ankle and how thankful i was that he was there. i remember...
being terrified of my first day of school and wondering what kind of a mother left her kid there. i remember racing through the trees on the hill at the crater not wanting to get tagged by the "bad" guy(my cousin)and feeling like i could never get tired. i remember warm sunny days eating popcicles and laying on the hot sidewalk after a cold swim in the cow trough. i remember sledding behind the sleigh while the team pulled it. i remeber the lost and empty feeling at my baby cousins funeral and wondering why he never got to experience life like i had. i remember the euphoric feeling of finishing jr. miss and remebering the fun time i had doing it. i remember feeding lambs at one in the morning hoping that i could get them to have a better life expectancy rate. i remember my dad carrying me into the emergency room after i broke my ankle and how thankful i was that he was there. i remember...
Friday, March 20, 2009
the smell of rain brings back memories of...
sitting on a horse freezing and wishing the cows would walk faster
sad stories that make me cry
riding in the mountains right after it has rained and loving it
sage brush
clean
refreshed
splashing in the puddles
the sound of rain pounding on the roof
standing in the door way of the barn just watching it rain
relief
sitting on a horse freezing and wishing the cows would walk faster
sad stories that make me cry
riding in the mountains right after it has rained and loving it
sage brush
clean
refreshed
splashing in the puddles
the sound of rain pounding on the roof
standing in the door way of the barn just watching it rain
relief
nicknames
in my family we have all sorts of nicknames for eachother. some good and some...well you know how it goes when you get mad at eachother haha. so i thought i would go through and just give our main ones and the stories behind them...
lancer...a.k.a. my padre
this is what my grandpa is always calling my dad. i'm not exactly sure why but he does. we don't really have a nickname for my dad in our family because dad fits him so well.
stewaski...a.k.a. mother
i don't know how to spell it. when my mom was little, her aunt affectionately called her favorite neice by this name. and so my dad took it upon himself to keep the nickname alive.
alli-kitty...moi!
if ya'll went to jr. miss, you heard the reason behind this. my uncle jesse loves to talk to little kids and he has all sorts of nicknames for them. when i was little, this was mine and it just kinda stuck. layne would try and say it but couldn't so it came out Ikee.
wubba...layne
my mom called layne this when he was a baby and it just stuck.
sharky...reilly
when reilly was little, he had this shirt covered in sharks and he wore it all the time. later he got a tie with sharks on it so we called him sharky.
bubbleboo...lydia
when lydia was little she couldn't say her w so she said bubbleboo and it fit her bubbly little personality. now i call her liddy because bubbleboo is a little bit too little for her.
peep...rachel
this is something i call rachel all the time just because it fits her:)
in my family we have all sorts of nicknames for eachother. some good and some...well you know how it goes when you get mad at eachother haha. so i thought i would go through and just give our main ones and the stories behind them...
lancer...a.k.a. my padre
this is what my grandpa is always calling my dad. i'm not exactly sure why but he does. we don't really have a nickname for my dad in our family because dad fits him so well.
stewaski...a.k.a. mother
i don't know how to spell it. when my mom was little, her aunt affectionately called her favorite neice by this name. and so my dad took it upon himself to keep the nickname alive.
alli-kitty...moi!
if ya'll went to jr. miss, you heard the reason behind this. my uncle jesse loves to talk to little kids and he has all sorts of nicknames for them. when i was little, this was mine and it just kinda stuck. layne would try and say it but couldn't so it came out Ikee.
wubba...layne
my mom called layne this when he was a baby and it just stuck.
sharky...reilly
when reilly was little, he had this shirt covered in sharks and he wore it all the time. later he got a tie with sharks on it so we called him sharky.
bubbleboo...lydia
when lydia was little she couldn't say her w so she said bubbleboo and it fit her bubbly little personality. now i call her liddy because bubbleboo is a little bit too little for her.
peep...rachel
this is something i call rachel all the time just because it fits her:)
Thursday, March 19, 2009
C Ha O s!!!
you wake up in the morning, its 7:15 the bus comes at 7:30. o crap! your starving because the last thing you ate the night before just wasn't enough. but you have to choose between eating a whole and nutritious breakfast or at least making yourself look like you got up at 7:10 instead of 5 minutes later:) you choose to look nice because people notice when you look like you came to school looking like you rolled outta bed at 7:20. you go turn on your straightener so that it warms up...you think you can beat the system by multitasking, so maybe you can squeeze in a pancake(mom woke up on time)"make your bed!" mom is unforgiving because she got up on time. so you make your bed. it's 7:19. you thought you had managed your first four waking minutes better than that! you go to pick out your clothes but no matter what you put on, it doesn't magically transform you from droopy bedhead to drop dead gorgeous, instead it seems to say WHA BLAM!! she woke up late! you have now unsuccessfully tried on every shirt in your ward robe and now the entire contents of your drawer are laying in a...dare you say it...chaotic pile. moms sure to catch that one. 7:25 who is messing with that clock!? you give up and put on a baggy sweatshirt, jeans, and tennis shoes and think...well that's attractive! pony tail day. plugging in the straightener was a waste of a precious 10 seconds because you have to unplug it after never using it. 7:29 you could add a new event in the olympics to see what teenage girl could make herself look...ok in the least amount of time. you would win. 7:31. the bus is late, you could have used that minute to down a whole pancake with syrup. 7:32 well maybe you can make time for that pancake. you just get the syrup on and you sit down...THE BUS IS HERE! dang. as you walk out the door you wonder to yourself, does anyone else have these kinda days?
you wake up in the morning, its 7:15 the bus comes at 7:30. o crap! your starving because the last thing you ate the night before just wasn't enough. but you have to choose between eating a whole and nutritious breakfast or at least making yourself look like you got up at 7:10 instead of 5 minutes later:) you choose to look nice because people notice when you look like you came to school looking like you rolled outta bed at 7:20. you go turn on your straightener so that it warms up...you think you can beat the system by multitasking, so maybe you can squeeze in a pancake(mom woke up on time)"make your bed!" mom is unforgiving because she got up on time. so you make your bed. it's 7:19. you thought you had managed your first four waking minutes better than that! you go to pick out your clothes but no matter what you put on, it doesn't magically transform you from droopy bedhead to drop dead gorgeous, instead it seems to say WHA BLAM!! she woke up late! you have now unsuccessfully tried on every shirt in your ward robe and now the entire contents of your drawer are laying in a...dare you say it...chaotic pile. moms sure to catch that one. 7:25 who is messing with that clock!? you give up and put on a baggy sweatshirt, jeans, and tennis shoes and think...well that's attractive! pony tail day. plugging in the straightener was a waste of a precious 10 seconds because you have to unplug it after never using it. 7:29 you could add a new event in the olympics to see what teenage girl could make herself look...ok in the least amount of time. you would win. 7:31. the bus is late, you could have used that minute to down a whole pancake with syrup. 7:32 well maybe you can make time for that pancake. you just get the syrup on and you sit down...THE BUS IS HERE! dang. as you walk out the door you wonder to yourself, does anyone else have these kinda days?
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