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i read the whole thing i thought it was very motivating :)
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13th-Sept-2250
Dear Diary,
They say ‘Birthdays’ are celebrations of getting one step closer to death. That may be true but not in my case!
Today as you know, on 13th of September, some two-hundred and fifty-six years ago I was born…and I still don’t know for how long would I get the ‘privilege’ of being stuck on this Earth. I seldom write in you because even after I write yearly, I still lack the topics to write about. But today…I feel to recall that day that is responsible for all this.
Back in those good ancient days, when I was nine and the world was full of every silly magnificence, I was a boy of free spirit and good-will. I was walking on the footpath when I saw an old man crossing the street. I felt pity for his decimated appearance but at the same time a mischievous smirk built itself on my lips. Suddenly, the old man stumbled and fell face forward on the ground. I couldn’t control myself and I began to laugh hysterically. The old man straightened up and walked over to me in a better perfection than that hobble. I instantly tried to shut my laughter but its vestiges remained on face in the form of a smirk.
He stared at me for a while and this made me feel guilty. I bent my head low in guilt and said, “Sorry! I didn’t mean—” but he cut me in between and said, “May you live a life of thousands of years my child,” I looked at his face and it showed a smile that appeared warm. I was further embarrassed but more puzzled. I had thought that he would say some harsh words…but…finally, I saw him wince his eyes pleasantly as he said, “God Bless You!”
I instantly found my vision blur but it cleared too soon. I looked around for that old man but he was gone…as if he melted himself in the environment. I found my senses faltering as my vision blurred and my body felt limp. Suddenly as the senses grew normal, I heard a shrill scream of a woman. I turned for a look and found her wide-eyed looking at me with her mouth agape in a horrifying scream. Reflexively I looked towards my right, and even before a scream could form in my throat, I saw a red truck coming towards me in great speed. I couldn’t move…it was fear that gripped me there, and my reflexes were numb. It was like…I had to collide with that truck. As if I was meant to die…as if my destiny wanted that accident…
I put my arms in front of me reflexively to protect myself, and suddenly as if from nowhere a sound escaped me—a hiccup—as that truck, I saw, piercing its mass into my body. I closed my eyes…and felt no pain……
My eyes opened at the very moment when I thought they would never open. I lay on a bed in a room of a hospital. My mother was sitting on a chair beside me with her head buried into the mattress of the bed. My father stood besides her talking to a doctor. The doctor looked grave as he said, “I am sorry, sir. We tried everything but the accident was so severe that it was impossible to save him. I am sorry again. We failed…”
I was horrified! How could that be! I was alive—my mind shouted. I didn’t feel any pain!
I looked at my mother and she had begun to cry even hysterically while my father stood wide-eyed and numb besides her. I called for my mother…she didn’t react. I called for my father…he didn’t react. No one did. It was like they couldn’t see or hear me calling them! I straightened up to touch my mother but was horrified to see my arm pass through her body. I screamed aloud but no one could hear me…
Since then, I have lived a whole new life of death. I have seen life. I have felt death. I have known time and I know how painful it is to die. I know how terrifyingly painful it is to feel that no one can hear you, see you, feel you and you are nothing but an abstract phenomenon!!! I know how ghastly it seems to let the time pass through your hand and you can do nothing but to sit on some chair moaning about nothingness, and waiting for that journey to the abyss.
My diary, on this occasion of my birthday, what should I say…because:
Dear Diary, I am Dead!
Written by: -Prerak Bakliwal
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CUZ ITS THE FIRST STORY I EVER WROTE! I WAS JUST 11 YEARS THEN!
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CUZ ITS THE FIRST STORY I EVER WROTE! I WAS JUST 11 YEARS ..."
WOW! And it was that awesome?? Prerak! You have Talent! Get your stories published and I'll be the first one who buys it! (Okay, maybe not the first but I'll buy it)
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This is a memoir I wrote for my American Lit class:
The Arts of a Thespian
Talking in third person takes time; time that I don’t want to waste. So, I am not going to talk in third person.
My life has been filled with the arts. I sing, I write, I paint, sketch, doodle, and other forms of drawing. I read and I dance. But, one thing I do that I treasure most is I act. As a thespian, I bring all the arts together. It’s like a dot to dot. You have the tools (or the dots), but you have to connect them to create the final picture. When I am selected for a part in a play, I find my stomach filled with butterflies fluttering in frenzied excitement. The beginning is always the most fun; when you know who you play, and an image of that person (or animal, thing, fairy, or some other odd or end) forms in your mind. The first rehearsal you attend is a fascinating experience; you’re filled with wonder at the amazing people that surround you, and often feel intimidated, if you’re anything like me. Unfortunately, by the second or third rehearsal you come crashing down from your temporary euphoria. This is where the hard work begins. Prepare yourself for two or three months of rehearsals three times a week from four until ten (and then you don’t get home until around midnight because you stayed behind to help clean up or mingle with friends). Depending on whom you are and what you play, your life will either be uneventful or full of chaos during this time.
You remember how I said as a thespian I bring the arts together? Do you want to know how? (This is where I pause for effect). Okay, okay, don’t all jump at once! I’ll tell you. The first art I mentioned was singing. In most plays there are one or more songs to bring the play to life and keep it from being too incredibly boring (this tactic only works sometimes). Even if there isn’t a song, my training as a singer can help me project farther into the audience, letting them hear what I am saying. Next, writing. This is only useful if you are the one writing the play; otherwise just discard it for later use. Now, painting, sketching, drawing, doodling, et cetera, et cetera. When you attend a play, there is more often than not a beautiful background mural to create the illusion of being in a shadowy forest or a regal mansion. What a lot of people know, yes, I said know, is that those murals (again, more often than not) are painted or drawn by the very actors and actresses that are roaming the stage in front of it.
I also mentioned reading. When I read my script, I learn and understand the story. It helps me to follow along when other actors are onstage and know what is going on. It also makes it more interesting, so I won’t get bored and goof off (which happens more than you would think). The last thing I mentioned before acting was dancing. There’s not always dancing in a play. Actually, there’s usually not any dancing at all (I find these play to be rather dull, don’t you agree?), but it still helps to know how to move your body. If I were to play a noblewoman (yes, yes, I am drawing inspiration from Mistborn, sue me), the grace and balance that dancing gives me would be invaluable to the illusion that I am, indeed, a noblewoman. Not to mention the fact that if there actually was dancing, my knowledge as a dancer would reinforce the illusion of the play.
When I act…I feel a sense of power within myself. The way the audience hangs on my every word… the feeling of accomplishment after finishing a scene with a standing ovation. When I act, nothing else in the world matters. I can lose myself in the spotlight, where I am not me…I am someone else.
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You need muse. hehe
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This is a memoir I wrote for my American Lit class:
The Arts of a Thespian
Talking in third person takes time; time that I don’t want to waste. So, I am n..."
OMG Bri, that was amazing too! And the title was captivating.
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I wrote this for english class, it was supposed to be sad so.. A letter
Dear Daughter:
Love is the most powerful thing in the world. That feeling can move hearts, move people, and move lives. It can push others to limits that were never meant to be crossed. That feeling that for some people can mean nothing.
To me it meant everything.
To me it was all. Without love, it was meaningless to me. That’s because I was lucky enough to find the love of my life. That certain someone that makes you feel special. That whenever he says just the simplest words, you feel loved.
It was heard to realize how lucky I was when he was around. When he was around to tell me how much he loved me. How he was the lucky one. That I was the only one he would be able to love. And I felt the same thing for him. We were meant for each other.
And I regret so many things now.
I regret not saying ‘I love you’ enough. I regret not trying to see him more often, even if my parents weren't happy with the idea. I regret everything I wasn’t able to do when him was around.
Because he was the best thing that ever happened to me. Him coming into my life was a miracle, a dream come true. If he hadn’t come into my life, I would’ve been empty. It would’ve been meaningless. But he gave it light, joy and love. Just when I was about to give up on everything in life, he was there. He was there when nobody else was.
Because he taught me all that I know.
He taught me that there’s one person meant for another one in this world. That each and every one of us was born with a destiny. A destiny with our special someone. And that some people were lucky enough to find that someone, and some weren’t. But that once you found him, your life would be complete.
And mine was, mine used to be.
And I wish it could be like that again.
You’re probably wondering why I’m mentioning all of this. All of the love stuff. Well, that’s where I wanted to start. I wanted to give a complete definition of love, of everything it meant to me. It all goes to one name. Seth.
Seth was the one who made me feel alive everyday. He made me see the world from other perspective. Lots of people said he wasn’t good for me. There was a moment when I believed that myself. But he changed my life.
Sure, he might have been a bad guy. He might have been a college dropout. He might have been a bad son. But he was my boyfriend, my fiancé. My daughter’s father. He might have been all of those things. But he was never a criminal.
This is our story.
I was sixteen. A junior. Some would consider I was still a kid. But I had been dating Seth for more than a year. Of course, against my parents’ will. I wasn’t going to break up with him just because mom and dad disapproved. He was the one who made it worth it live everyday.
But then it happened. It was all so fast. We were at the mall. We were going to pick out what we were going to wear for my junior prom. And then, I heard screaming and shouting. And he was being taken away from me. Handcuffed and forced out of the mall. Into a police car. I followed the policemen and demanded to know what was going on. Seth had been accused of murder. Apparently they believed that he had robbed a store and shot one of the workers there. I tried talking to every lawyer in town, and none of them could help me get Seth out of jail.
And that was just the beginning of my problems. I started throwing up, fainting in classes. I went to the doctor and found out that I was pregnant. I felt happy at that very moment, but I also felt scared. Because I knew that the father was in jail. And I was only sixteen.
That same day I went to prison to visit him. And I told him about the baby. I couldn’t believe the joy in his eyes. His smile. He was so happy about the fact that he was going to have a baby. And that day, he promised. He promised me that he was going to get out of there to see me have my baby.
Mom and dad kicked me out of the house when I told them. I didn’t want to hide the fact that I was pregnant with Seth’s baby. They had no compaction and gave me ten minutes to pack my things. They said I could stay, if I had an abortion. I said no. I can’t say I wasn’t sad. But I had the relief that there was at least one person out there caring about me. About us. And that was Seth.
I visited him everyday. From Monday to Sunday. And everyday we counted the days until he would leave. Eventually we learned that the baby was a she. He wanted to name her Joann. I wanted to name her Elena. But we agreed we would decide that the day she was born.
Yet, everyday was a burden. All of my friends had turned their backs on me. I had no place to live. Worst of all, I didn’t have Seth with me. And he would be getting out of jail two week before the baby was born.
He promised he would be out before my baby was born. He promised. And he almost did it. I swear he almost did.
I remember the last day I saw him. I will never forget that dark day.
His last day in jail. They had proven he was innocent. And I was out there, waiting for him to get out. I saw his figure coming out the door, walking towards the gate, where I was standing. He was smiling. I had missed him.
Just as the gate opened I heard a scream. Then a gunshot. Seth’s eyes went blank, and his body went limp as he fell right in front of me. All around me there was chaos. But I could only focus on my boyfriend’s bleeding body. I leaned over and told him to hang on. He blinked once and looked at me. Reached for his pocket and took out the most beautiful ring in the world.
“Sydney…” He said taking a deep breath. “Would you marry me?”
I couldn’t hold the tears back I started crying. I nodded and said yes. He slipped the ring into my finger and gave me one last kiss.
Why am I telling you all of this. Because some people say that you can’t mend a broken heart. And it’s true, it’s almost impossible. Seth had my heart. He was my everything. And someone took it away.
Love is the most powerful thing in the world. That feeling can move hearts, move people, and move lives. It can push others to limits that were never meant to be crossed. That feeling that for some people can mean nothing.
To me it meant everything.
To me it was all. Without love, it was meaningless to me. That’s because I was lucky enough to find the love of my life. That certain someone that makes you feel special. That whenever he says just the simplest words, you feel loved.
And I did feel love. And it hurts to remember him. But I had to move on. I do now. And there’s one simple reason. My daughter.
One day she’ll ask about her daddy. One day she’ll ask why he isn’t there with us. And I’ll have to answer those questions. I’ll tell her that her father loved her very much. And that if he were here, he wouldn’t stop telling her so.
And that’s why I’m writing you this letter. Because one day, when you’re old enough, I’ll show it to you. And it will be a little piece of who your father was. Because you help me mend my broken heart.
One day, you’ll be lucky to find that special someone. That one person who makes you feel special. And Seth was that one person to me. I want you to remember that he is always watching over us, in heaven. There’s an angel up there caring for us. His name is Seth, and he is your father.
He will always love you Joann, no matter where he is.
Your mother, Sydney.
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True, but she looks more like a princess in blonde, haha.
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It was amazing, and the title totally suited the story. It was sad, as you said and I feel...wow...deep.
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Whoa. Andrea....whoa.
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Ha, the whoa effect is working on me.
Bri wrote: "Lol, yeah, she does :) Whoa. Andrea....whoa."
Natshane wrote: "@Andrea
It was amazing, and the title totally suited the story. It was sad, as you said and I feel...wow...deep."
Thanks :)
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Ha, the whoa effect is working on me."
:D
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Thanks, I have a boyfriend so yeah you could say i love someone *blushes*
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This is a picture of my cousin Sharita, my sister Megan and myself. I chose this picture because it shows how I love to be crazy, have fun, and be around friends and family. It also demonstrates how I am not afraid to be myself and goof off once in a while. I love to hang out with my family and friends, doing fun family activities and traditions. I feel it’s important to be with family and friends because it will bring us closer. Friends can be uplifting and understanding and are important too. Happy people can make the best friends.
My friends and I like to find ways to entertain ourselves. Most of the time, we do that by putting on funny faces or costumes and snapping hilarious pictures. We like taking all kinds of random pictures. Sometimes we will grab our cameras, hang out, and pose for photos and capture other things on film. We try to make our snapshots interesting by being silly. In the photo above, Sharita and I decided to not to smile, but to make a weird face instead. If you were to look at my mother’s camera you would probably think we are full of ourselves, because my friends and I are the subjects of almost all of the pictures.
I love chilling with my sisters and brother. When I am around them I can be myself, laugh all I want and have a blast. Lots of people find their siblings very annoying, and at times I find mine annoying also, but the reason they act like that is because they love me and want to be like me. We like to get together as a family and go camping, fishing, and play games. When we are doing these things it brings us closer as a family.
I think that if you can be friends with anyone in the world, you should choose your family. My family will always be there for me, whereas friends come and go. It’s better to have a strong relationship with my family now, then be on my own and not ever talking to them. I know that my parents and siblings can seem like a pain sometimes, but they just want what is best for me. I think that it’s not only important for me to be friends with my family, but to also have friends outside of my family. I need friends in my life almost as much as I need my family. Friends sometimes understand how I am feeling better than my siblings might.
I surround myself with good friends that lift me up and make me happy. If my friends drag me down and make me sad, then I need to think about finding new friends. I always remember though, that friendship goes both ways. I have to be a good friend and include others in my group of friends. I try not to exclude someone just because they are different, or I have never met them before. For all I know, that someone may be in need of a friend. Friends and family are a big part of my life, and I don’t know what I would do or be without them.
Friends and family can lift me up and be entertaining. Being together will strengthen my relationship, especially with my family. Although family can be difficult they are always there. It takes work to build a good friendship but I know that if I give it time, and stay a good friend we will have a strong bond forever.
http://www.goodreads.com/photo/user/4...
My friends and I like to find ways to entertain ourselves. Most of the time, we do that by putting on funny faces or costumes and snapping hilarious pictures. We like taking all kinds of random pictures. Sometimes we will grab our cameras, hang out, and pose for photos and capture other things on film. We try to make our snapshots interesting by being silly. In the photo above, Sharita and I decided to not to smile, but to make a weird face instead. If you were to look at my mother’s camera you would probably think we are full of ourselves, because my friends and I are the subjects of almost all of the pictures.
I love chilling with my sisters and brother. When I am around them I can be myself, laugh all I want and have a blast. Lots of people find their siblings very annoying, and at times I find mine annoying also, but the reason they act like that is because they love me and want to be like me. We like to get together as a family and go camping, fishing, and play games. When we are doing these things it brings us closer as a family.
I think that if you can be friends with anyone in the world, you should choose your family. My family will always be there for me, whereas friends come and go. It’s better to have a strong relationship with my family now, then be on my own and not ever talking to them. I know that my parents and siblings can seem like a pain sometimes, but they just want what is best for me. I think that it’s not only important for me to be friends with my family, but to also have friends outside of my family. I need friends in my life almost as much as I need my family. Friends sometimes understand how I am feeling better than my siblings might.
I surround myself with good friends that lift me up and make me happy. If my friends drag me down and make me sad, then I need to think about finding new friends. I always remember though, that friendship goes both ways. I have to be a good friend and include others in my group of friends. I try not to exclude someone just because they are different, or I have never met them before. For all I know, that someone may be in need of a friend. Friends and family are a big part of my life, and I don’t know what I would do or be without them.
Friends and family can lift me up and be entertaining. Being together will strengthen my relationship, especially with my family. Although family can be difficult they are always there. It takes work to build a good friendship but I know that if I give it time, and stay a good friend we will have a strong bond forever.
http://www.goodreads.com/photo/user/4...
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Family is our best friend, they won't turn their backs on you no matter what, and friendship always goes both ways, that's what I kept on telling myself, that you have to put yourself out there and socialize, sympathize, to earn their trust!
Yeah. I have a very strong opinion on friendship and family.
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Thank you very much. :) it took me like 5 hours to write an edit it, but I finally finished it.
The gator is staring at me. I hold my breath and try not to move. It comes closer, staring at me. I am so scared, my heart is pounding so hard I am afraid it can hear me. Finally after five minutes of it staring at me, it flipped it's tail and dove into the water swimming away. I let out a deep breath, and ran back to my house, never to wander into the African jungles again.
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message 43:
by
Bri, A poem begins with a lump in the throat.
(last edited Nov 11, 2011 04:35PM)
(new)
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Kennedy willed her mind to obey. Her hands shook slightly, the only visible sign of how anxious she was. The car cruised along the highway, the desolate “flats” flying past the window. Her mom was on the phone, jabbering away with one of her out-of-state sisters; in mind as well as home town. The tension in their conversation added to Kennedy’s hysteria. She really shouldn’t have anything to worry about. Although the study group she was headed for began an hour earlier, and she still had forty-five minutes of driving time to go, these weren’t the reasons for her nervousness. The cause of her shaking hands and jumpy mind was the presence of David at the café where her other friends were meeting at.
Only a few days before, David was in Hawaii, not due back for another month; but that morning, he revealed that he returned early and therefore would be attending the study group, a big fat “SURPRISE!” attached securely to his statement. Of course, Kennedy wouldn’t have found this something to be nervous about before Saturday, but Saturday was five days before this day and two days before February 14th, and everyone knew that February 14th was trouble all around.
The car lurched, bringing Kennedy back to reality. Several minutes had swung by while she reminisced, and tall mountains flanked them on their left. Warm air streamed steadily from the air vents, a stark contradiction to the snow still holding the earth captive outside Kennedy’s window. The heat seeped through her, easing her tension for a little while, as she stared blankly out the window.
When they reached the city, Kennedy’s heart began a drumming like the sound of wild horses inside her chest. You shouldn’t be this nervous, Kennedy thought vehemently, but a small part of her mind whispered back about the strange way David had a hold of her. She wouldn’t dare to say the words she wanted to even if he seemed to think that everything would turn out right, it couldn’t possibly work out.
Finally, they arrived in the small parking lot dedicated to the customers of the wifi café/deli on the corner of the busy street. Taking a deep breath, Kennedy gave her mom a hurried hug and a “thank you”, grabbed her backpack and laptop case, and tried her best to walk boldly into the café. She felt like she’d just walked out of a freezer into an oven, but maybe that was just her. To her left, right as she walked in the door, was the deli. Tables were set seemingly at random in the center of the room; small booths were set at the edge, by the windows. Switching from bold to ninja mode, Kennedy began creeping towards the booth now hosting her friends; David, Gavin, Claire, and Audrey.
Before she could reach the table though, Claire turned her head and let out a shriek, naturally drawing the attention of the rest of the table towards Kennedy, including David. Giving up all pretenses, Kennedy walked boisterously towards their table, a window booth. Three laptops, a couple notebooks, pens, and the remnants of a meal littered the table. The booth had two benches in worn red pleather, and a chair at the end that wasn’t next to the window. This Kennedy sat down in, laying her backpack by her chair and her laptop precariously on the table in front of her.
For a few painstaking moments, silence reigned over the table. Kennedy looked around at her friends; Claire, with her long silvery brown hair pulled into a ballerina bun and golden eyes shining with mischief, Audrey, the image of the girl next door with her medium length light brown hair, brown eyes and a spatter of freckles, Gavin with his brilliantly blue eyes and dirty blond hair, she couldn’t help but smile. Lastly, she turned towards David, his midnight black hair sticking up in odd places and his skin golden brown from the Hawaiian sun. Suddenly lowering her gaze, Kennedy was struck with the intensity of his stare, his eyes a golden hazel full of a mystery she was dying to uncover…and Claire dashed the moment to pieces with an exclamation, “I need a hug!” Startled out of her momentary fixation, Kennedy looked over at Claire who was leaning across the table, her arms outstretched in expectation.
“Oh,” Kennedy said, plastering a relatively genuine smile on her face, and hugged her. Audrey decided that she wanted one to, so for a few moments hugs were passed around. Thank all things good that David didn’t ask for his hug, Kennedy thought wryly. She probably wouldn’t have been able to let go.
Without thinking, her nervousness overwhelming, Kennedy flung the words, “You’re really tan,” at David. A slight smirk overtook his face, and he answered in his smooth voice, “Thank you.”
Embarrassed, she looked around the table and said hurriedly, “So…what’re we doing?”
Audrey, laughing somewhat obnoxiously, answered, “We’re supposed to be making an outline of the United Nations, but so far we haven’t gotten anything done.”
“Gavin and David were about to race each other to the end of the block and back when you arrived,” Claire added, sending a carefully curtained exasperated glance towards Audrey. Kennedy had to stifle a smile for Claire’s sake. Audrey made it her business to flirt endlessly with Gavin, and Claire didn’t like it a wit. Gavin nodded from his spot by the window, and nudged David in an attempt to make him move. While Kennedy kept her eyes carefully down, they departed at a slow jog, and moments later flew past the window and down the side walk at a sprint.
Audrey’s phone began ringing the moment the guys were out of sight, bringing Kennedy back once more from her wandering thoughts. “Hello?” she answered in an annoying chipper voice, standing up to walk to a corner nearby where she could talk. Claire, taking advantage of the moment, whispered softly, “So, how you holding up?”
It would be just like her to read the tension between David and me, Kennedy thought. Out loud she said, with a smile that both she and Claire new to be fake, “Okay, considering.” She didn’t add considering his insane love letter supposedly sent from Hawaii… but she wanted to, just to make herself feel better about rejecting him. Claire’s look was pitying, and it made Kennedy feel like crying some more.
Popping up at Claire’s elbow, Audrey looked sad as she said, “I have to leave early for volleyball. My mom’ll be here in a couple minutes.” Kennedy forced herself to say, “Oh Audrey, I’m sorry! We didn’t even get to hang out that long!” She was glad she did later when Audrey gave her a wide grin and a hug, looking extremely happy. Claire gasped, making both Audrey and Kennedy turned towards the window. Gavin and David were tearing down the sidewalk, Gavin in the lead. For a few moments the girls sat watching as the stop light turned green, making crossing the street legally impossible.
Gavin stopped at the light, and in a flash David flew past him, crossed the street at a gallop while dodging various cars, and swept into the café with a last puff of breath as Gavin, still at the stop light, looked on in dismay. When he finally returned, there was an argument of the legitimacy of David’s j-walking and whether or not it should count. In the end, Audrey had to leave, so it was decided that David won, since he finished first.
Kennedy’s mind wandered as Claire, David, and Gavin started talking about religion. She wasn’t the best philosopher; all she knew was that her church was the true church, and that’s all she needed to know. She couldn’t argue logistics and hieroglyphics. An hour went by, and still Kennedy couldn’t bring herself to talk much. She opened her laptop, attempting to write a poem.
It was awkward and strange, seeing you there, it’s been awhile since we talked, I tried not to stare…
Finally, they were alone. Gavin and Claire had left a couple minutes before, and Kennedy was searching for something to say. They were sitting on the couch set in the corner, secluded from the rest of the café; knees touching slightly, Kennedy’s eyes regarded them with a wonder at the way his simple touch made her body vibrate with electricity. She glanced up to find David staring intently at her, making her flush. When he didn’t say anything, Kennedy tilted her head to the side, considering him.
Without warning, he gently grabbed her hand, pulling her closer to him. Their faces were no more than an inch apart, and Kennedy could feel David’s warm breath cascading across her face in delicious ripples, her own breath coming out in loud bursts. For a few soundless moments they looked at each other, their eyes boring into each other’s souls, then smoothly leaning forward, David touched Kennedy’s lips with his own, working his jaw slowly across hers, lighting a flame in her stomach. For a moment she kissed him back, the world, her problems, their problems, forgotten in this brief moment. His hand cupped the side of her face when Kennedy pulled back, turning away, scared of the way he made her feel. She whispered, “I can’t do this David…” He looked at her earnestly, hungrily. “Kennedy I’m sorry. I know you said it couldn’t work, but I know it can. We can make it work. Together.”
She desperately wanted to believe it. Her mind raced, trying in vain to honor the reasons she had so carefully thought out as a shield from his love. She turned to face David, his eyes beseeching, willing to protect her and to love her. Slowly, Kennedy nodded her head, sending her doubts flying out the window with her common sense. Taking a leap isn’t as frightening when you have some to hold your hand and jump with you. As she leaned in to kiss David again, Kennedy’s mind raced with an idea for a poem;
When you tell me to go out in the dark,
I’m trusting you,
When you say to hold your hand and jump,
I’m believing in you,
When you tell me everything’s gonna be okay,
You better be right,
When I’m upset and can’t seem to cope,
I want you to hold me tight,
When I’m happy and full of life and laughter,
I want you to laugh with me,
When I fall silent and look at your lips,
I want you to kiss me,
When you’re sad and need a hug,
I hope you tell me,
When life gets tough and you feel alone,
Please trust me,
When you want to be with someone,
I hope you come to me,
When you want to love someone,
Love me.
The Story of a Hero
“Grandma, who are these people in the picture?” Jacob asked holding the picture with care. His grandma looked at the picture with a sad smile as memories came flooding back to her. “Come here Jacob; let me tell you a story.” Jacob got up and settled on the couch by his grandmother, ready to listen. “It all started when I turned 18 in the year 1939...” Jacobs’s imagination took over and he was transported to the year 1939.
The walls of the ice cream parlor shook terribly and the whole building trembled. Everyone rushed out of the shop going for cover as the ground shook more. The streets were in chaos as Mary and her fiancé, William hurried for the safe house across the road. They quickly made it inside where the rest of Mary’s family was. The younger children were all in tears, so Mary and her mother tried to calm them down while William and Mary’s father helped neighbors into the underground cellar. Their worst fears had taken effect; World War II had begun.
“Do you really have to go?” Mary asked with tearful eyes. “I’m sorry Mary, but I have a duty to our country. I’ll come back, I promise. In the meantime take care of yourself and our baby, okay?” He said kissing her head. “Okay.” She said in tears. They exchanged one last kiss. Before he left Mary’s mother snapped a picture of the couple. William got on the plane waving goodbye to his beautiful wife.
“But grandma, what happened to William?” Jacob asked breaking her from her trance. His grandma looked at him sadly “Unfortunately Jacob, William never made it back home to his wife and beautiful daughter. Although he was gone, Mary always knew that he was always looking down at his beautiful wife and daughter, and still is to this day. Now he also has wonderful grandchildren to watch over also.” Jacob looked at the picture again “Was he a hero?” He asked curiously “He most defiantly was.”
“Grandma, who are these people in the picture?” Jacob asked holding the picture with care. His grandma looked at the picture with a sad smile as memories came flooding back to her. “Come here Jacob; let me tell you a story.” Jacob got up and settled on the couch by his grandmother, ready to listen. “It all started when I turned 18 in the year 1939...” Jacobs’s imagination took over and he was transported to the year 1939.
The walls of the ice cream parlor shook terribly and the whole building trembled. Everyone rushed out of the shop going for cover as the ground shook more. The streets were in chaos as Mary and her fiancé, William hurried for the safe house across the road. They quickly made it inside where the rest of Mary’s family was. The younger children were all in tears, so Mary and her mother tried to calm them down while William and Mary’s father helped neighbors into the underground cellar. Their worst fears had taken effect; World War II had begun.
“Do you really have to go?” Mary asked with tearful eyes. “I’m sorry Mary, but I have a duty to our country. I’ll come back, I promise. In the meantime take care of yourself and our baby, okay?” He said kissing her head. “Okay.” She said in tears. They exchanged one last kiss. Before he left Mary’s mother snapped a picture of the couple. William got on the plane waving goodbye to his beautiful wife.
“But grandma, what happened to William?” Jacob asked breaking her from her trance. His grandma looked at him sadly “Unfortunately Jacob, William never made it back home to his wife and beautiful daughter. Although he was gone, Mary always knew that he was always looking down at his beautiful wife and daughter, and still is to this day. Now he also has wonderful grandchildren to watch over also.” Jacob looked at the picture again “Was he a hero?” He asked curiously “He most defiantly was.”
Bex wrote: "The Story of a Hero“Grandma, who are these people in the picture?” Jacob asked holding the picture with care. His grandma looked at the picture with a sad smile as memories came flooding back to ..."
nice story. it was sad but, i liked it
A Motivational story about Positive Thinking
by: Unknown
Read this, and let it really sink in... Then, choose how you start your day tomorrow...
Jerry is the kind of guy you love to hate. He is always in a good mood and always has something positive to say. When someone would ask him how he was doing, he would reply, "If I were any better, I would be twins!" He was a unique manager because he had several waiters who had followed him around from restaurant to restaurant.
The reason the waiters followed Jerry was because of his attitude. He was a natural motivator. If an employee was having a bad day, Jerry was there telling the employee how to look on the positive side of the situation.
Seeing this style really made me curious, so one day I went up to Jerry and asked him, I don't get it! You can't be a positive person all of the time. How do you do it?" Jerry replied, "Each morning I wake up and say to myself, Jerry, you have two choices today. You can choose to be in a good mood or you can choose to be in a bad mood.
I choose to be in a good mood. Each time something bad happens, I can choose to be a victim or I can choose to learn from it. I choose to learn from it. Every time someone comes to me complaining, I can choose to accept their complaining or I can point out the positive side of life. I choose the positive side of life.
"Yeah, right, it's not that easy," I protested. "Yes, it is," Jerry said. "Life is all about choices. When you cut away all the junk, every situation is a choice. You choose how you react to situations. You choose how people will affect your mood. You choose to be in a good mood or bad mood. The bottom line: It's your choice how you live life."
I reflected on what Jerry said. Soon thereafter, I left the restaurant industry to start my own business. We lost touch, but I often thought about him when I made a choice about life instead of reacting to it.
Several years later, I heard that Jerry did something you are never supposed to do in a restaurant business: he left the back door open one morning and was held up at gun point by three armed robbers. While trying to open the safe, his hand, shaking from nervousness, slipped off the combination. The robbers panicked and shot him. Luckily, Jerry was found relatively quickly and rushed to the local trauma center. After 18 hours of surgery and weeks of intensive care, Jerry was released from the hospital with fragments of the bullets still in his body.
I saw Jerry about six months after the accident. When I asked him how he was, he replied, "If I were any better, I'd be twins. Wanna see my scars?" I declined to see his wounds, but did ask him what had gone through his mind as the robbery took place. “The first thing that went through my mind was that I should have locked the back door," Jerry replied. "Then, as I lay on the floor, I remembered that I had two choices: I could choose to live or I could choose to die. I chose to live."
"Weren't you scared? Did you lose consciousness?" I asked. Jerry continued, "...the paramedics were great. They kept telling me I was going to be fine. But when they wheeled me into the ER and I saw the expressions on the faces of the doctors and nurses, I got really scared. In their eyes, I read 'he's a dead man.'
I knew I needed to take action." " What did you do?" I asked. "Well, there was a big burly nurse shouting questions at me," said Jerry. "She asked if I was allergic to anything. 'Yes,' I replied. The doctors and nurses stopped working as they waited for my reply. I took a deep breath and yelled, 'Bullets!' Over their laughter, I told them, 'I am choosing to live. Operate on me as if I am alive, not dead.'"
Jerry lived thanks to the skill of his doctors, but also because of his amazing attitude. I learned from him that every day we have the choice to live fully. Attitude, after all, is everything