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. . .

"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.

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 seemed 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!

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.

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.

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.

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.