The Boy and the Interminable Story

I was walking down the street to arrive home, and drink a warm cup of coffee because it was very cold outside. I was avid to go home because I wanted to be in inside a warm place where your hands are not freezing or turning purple, so I put on my jacket in a cursory manner as I was speed-walking through the street.

As I got home, an anonymous person was opening the door of Mrs. Caulfield's house. I didn't know what it was, but I squinted my eyes and try to figure out if could identify it. It was very dark and the only thing that was visible was the light pole I was standing next to. As he came outside, I noticed that he hadn't stolen anything, but I started wondering if he did something to Phoebe.

Then, I realized that he started to walk towards me, so I gingerly hid myself behind the light pole, but I was trembling in fear, wishing for him not to notice me. I heard his footstep come closer and closer, but in my mind, I thought the man had noticed me until he said something weird.

"Thank you Allie, thank you for not letting me get caught." I recognized that voice, but I still wasn't sure of who it was. As he said thank you again and again, it reverberated in my mind. After saying thank you about 20 times, I finally came to my conjecture. I walked away from the pole, and I saw this young man with a black jacket, jeans, and a backpack. I finally recognized him.

"For the love of god. It you, Holden Cau...." He covered my mouth with his cigaret smelling hand.

"Shhh, goddamn it. Don't scream my name. Mostly, who are you and how do you know me?" He took his hand away and took a fue steps back.

"I'm your neighbor, Casey Shields, do you remember?" He looked at me from top to bottom, but the only thing I noticed was his grimace on him face, not that it made a difference with his normal face.

"Oh yeah, Its been a long time since I've seen you." I knew he was lying, but I didn't mind. He seemed like an affable person compared to the last time I played with him. I remember he would pilfer my dolls and torture them as much as he could.

We sat down on a bench and we stroke up a conversation about how our lives were going . He seemed lackadaisical about it, so I changed the subject and made it concise so that he wouldn't get bored.

Spontaneously, he started to talk about his brother Allie. I think I must have said something that evoked him to talk about his brother. You could see his despondent disposition when he was talking about Allie, and how Allie wrote an anthology of poems in his baseball mitt. He stopped talking for 15 seconds, looking at the light pole. He turned around to face me and said something that almost made me fall off the bench.

"Wanna escape with me and move to the West?" He entreated me to go and he gave me an interminable story of how we were going to lives in the West. Holden had no inkling that I wasn't paying attention to him after he asked me to move West. I was still shocked because of his offer, but I didn't want to seem rude, so I pretended I was paying attention.

Holden is very audacious, but his mind is filled with impossible things. He is not so conscientious about things. He never thinks before saying things, and I know that if he asked many people the same thing, they would rebuff his offer again and again. I Didn't have a choice, so I said I couldn't go. I was trying to be polite and not hurt his feelings, but he went on a tirade about how everyone was the same and never gave a chance to anything. I got very annoyed, so I just stood up, said good night, and went home. After that night, I didn't see him again.

Holden is

Bitter, cold.
Hidden in a room

He is
a critisizer.
He notices,
he judges,
he makes it
sound bad.

He is
A piece of paper
you can't fold.
You can't
tare it,
you can't
crumple it.

He stays flat
and straight.
He doesn't change.

He is
leaving again.
This goddamn
place,
this goddamn
school.

He is
standing
on that hill.
Yes,
the Thomsen hill.

He is
right there.
Shaking, shivering, showing
no face expretion.

He is
kicked out
from school.
The fifth school,
but his parents
don't know.

He doesn't mind,
he doesn't think
it's important.
He will go
go home.
He just
doesn't care.

Eggs by Jerry Spinelli

Eggs, is a story written by Jerry Spinelli, which explains how something that you have lost can be found again with a friend that has experienced the same situation before. It is written in David, a nine year old boy, is sent to live with his grandmother after his mother died.

From the state of Minnesota, he moved to a new state in which he starts a new life. His father is the owner of a mall in Minnesota and is obligated to stay there from Monday to Friday and he only gets to see David at the weekends. After the death of David’s mother, his disposition had changed: David has never smiled again, never laughed and always has a serious face, he is never enthusiastic about events. He only has his father to be with and with the miss of his mother; he is the only person he is really close to him.

Then, David meets a girl named Primrose: aggressive, doesn’t let anyone insult her, and has moved from her mother also known as a psychic, but Primrose couldn’t stand her, so she moved to a car and made it her own room. Both these characters start a new friendship and continue their journey as David discovers new things.

This is one of the greatest books I have ever read. Jerry’s description of the characters and the plot makes you feel like you are in the story. Also, you can sense what feeling the character is going through and how you feel related to the character. This story has a great combination of comedy, hate, depression, and love at the same time. Even though the characters are different in many ways and fight a lot about things, they still become friends and still have fun. I have finally understood that even though something’s gone and you can’t see it, it’s actually kept in your heart, where it will stay forever.

My Brother

Is the symphony orchestra,

The melody in every string,

The beautiful prince Siegfried.

Apollo, the god,

Everyone would

love to take,

To keep, to love

A god,

From top

to bottom. He’s

The history book

You flip through.

The teacher

Who taught me

What was right and wrong.

The one that got caught

Once, just once,

But never did it again.

The Picasso,

That moves the paint brush

Slow and gingerly.

And creates

The path to glory.

Then looks straight,

To the horizon

And walks to the end of the earth.

The Messy List

1. When I have a bug on my hand, if its not cute, I would find ways to torture it or find a way to make his death slow and painful.
2. I always forget to give back the money I owe to the people(Stephanie), but its her fault that she is so nice to me!
3. I once punched a kid when I was 3 because he would always bug me about sucking my thumb. It was really funny!
4. When I'm really bored I grab my ereaser and cut it into little pieces or grab my white out and write my name on my binder. And if I daydream, I fall sleep.
5. If I see one of my little cousins dolls or toys, I will grab it, play with it, and never give iot back to my cousin.
6. I LOVE ham. If I don't see ham in the fridge, I will collapse until my mom comes home and I will tell her to go buy ham!
7. I wish to live next to Jaye so that everyday I would go over to her house instead of talking to her in skype!
8. I'm a disaster. My room is disorganized, my closet is full of clothes and when I take out all my shirts to see which one to put on, I leave everything there without putting things back. I'm really messy!!!.

I Don't Want to Go to School

*Beep* *Beep* *Beep* *Beep*

I try to open my eyes, but because I was still sleepy, I didn't want to. I wanted to sleep more, but I stood up because of my alarm.

I sigh and inhale again. Monday morning, school. I don't want to go, I really don’t want to go.

So I came up with a plan. I will pretend I’m sick, so that I don’t have to go, but which one should I choose: headache, stomachache, or pain on the bones. Yes, stomachache always seems to work with my mother. So with my acting skills, I made myself cry and I walked to my mom, who was already drinking her coffee and watching the news.

“Oh, darling, are you ok?” She ran to me and touched my face with her soft warm hands, but I just laugh in the inside. I tighten my stomach so that it looked like I was suffering.

“I’m not feeling well mom, but I have to go to school. When I’m going to eat breakfast just give me a pill.” I turn around and walk slower, but my mom touched my shoulder, “Do you have a test today?” I shook my head, and my mind was excited to hear what she was going to say next.

“Sleep on my bed and stay there today, ok?” Jackpot! I laid on her bed and she cover me with the bed sheets. I close my eyes, and then it all just went black.

I wake up again and I see the sun up in the sky. It was ten-thirty-five and I went down to eat breakfast. The rest of the day, I didn’t do anything at all and stayed home with no one to talk to. Yes, it would’ve been better to go to school.

After that day I realized that should not go to school when I’m SERIOUSLY sick, not because I didn’t feel like it. Yes, people, school is better than staying home!

This Bird Has Left The Nest

He woke up

one morning.

He looked to the sun,

raising up to top.

He lifts his head,

I still sleep.

He stands

and opens his wings.

The feathers shake

as the wind blows

and one of his feathers

touches my face.

Soft and sweet,

the feather

brushes on my face.

Slowly,

my eyes open.

He stands high

and tall.

His wings,

wide open.

One leep

and he leaves.

He flies,

high in the sky.

I stand,

watch,

as he leaves

to a new future.

He left,

hes gone.

Yes,

my borther,

has left the nest.

Spamming=Not Fun

Spam is the abuse of electronic messaging systems (including most broadcast media, digital delivery systems) to send unsolicited bulk messages indiscriminately. (Real definition.)

Spamming, everybody does it to piss people off. Mostly used in Messenger, Skype or Facebook.
The thing I abhor the most! People use it all the time when there is nothing to do and they also seem to be recluse. Then you feel despondent and think if you should talk to that person again.

You are sitting down doing homework in your computer and you connect to Skype. You open a Microsoft Word page to start your work. You are really concentrated and you try to make the best so that you get a good graded. When you’re about to finish the last sentence of your work, *beep* *beep* *beep* *beep* *beep* *beep*. An interminable paragraph of smiley faces or a cups of beer or a lot of pizzas sent from a friend, outraging you and you thought it was something really important, You just write “why are you doing this?” and they just answer “Nm(Notmuch) I’m just bored.”

Isn’t it easier to just say "hi" to someone instead to entreat your attention to them or annoy you with weird images or links to the homework page? Isn’t it better to just say "what’s up" than just wasting your time making an irascible paragraph of stupid things. At first, you may thing it was just your friend's affability, but then it just reverberates again and again. Then it will haunt you until the person decides to stop.

Ok, now tell me or not if the reason for spamming is stupid. After I got spammed by someone without knowing, I just ask “why do you spam?” and the person just answers,

Just. For. Fun

When you read that, you just are impelled to just write that he or she should never do that because you don't like it in caps, but your tremulous fingers don't want to move because you think that writing that would be to mean.

Ok, it is not fun, it’s just annoying, and there is no point of spamming people. Read a book,
Watch TV, go outside and run. Do something more entertaining than that. I don't want you to amiss this. I just want you to think, why do people think that spamming is fun?

Confession List

1. When you guys see me in school, you might think, “Wow, Caterina, why did you just do that in front of him or her,” or “Caterina, sing my part, I can’t do it!” or even “Caterina will do it; she is not shy at all!” Well my friends, you people are wrong! I am the shyest person alive. I can’t even ask for a cup of water in a restaurant, or call my friends for homework because I’m afraid their parents will answer the phone.

2. I LOVE to bug two specific people in Skype (not giving names). I bug them 24/7, but even though the people don’t write back, I still write stuff to annoy them like spamming them with their nicknames or initials. It has become my hobby.

3. When I have an apple in my hand and I eat it, I also eat the core of the apple. I know you may thing is disgusting, but there is no such thing as an apple tree growing in your stomach.

4. I almost never pay attention to my mom. I always take my iPod with me when I have to go to the salon and there is always traffic at that street. As always, cars always get in the middle of your way and that aggravates my mother. When she reaches a point in which she gets really angry, she starts scream. So I put on my headphones and don’t listen.

5. I hate Fred so much! It’s a guy that always gets on my nerves with his stupid videos. I just don’t see the point of talking with a squeaky voice and run around like a psycho maniac. Yes, he does get paid to make those videos, but even though I watch Fred fifty times, it still doesn’t make me laugh at all.

Never Ruin a Kids´Imagination

Imagination, something that all kids do when they´re bored or when they want to play alone. So this summer, my little cousin, Yoselin, would always be running around scream always the same lines of her favorite show, “Winx Club.”
After two weeks of being in Italy, my uncle decided to have a barbeque at their backyard as a welcome party for us. That day didn´t come out well as I thought it would be…

It was a Saturday afternoon (perfect day for a barbeque because all shops, and malls are closed, except the grocery shops), my mom, brother and I arrive to my uncle’s house at around 2: 15. We could smell the steak burning with the fire and the veggies cooked in the oven. All I knew was that I was famished to eat whatever was on the barbeque. My mouth watered just by thinking of it.
As I walk inside the house, my nose lifted up and searched for the appetizing smell without greeting my aunt and uncle. I close my eyes and inhale deeply the scent of the big pork chop laying there as if it was taking a tan.
As I got closer to the barbeque, I heard this loud noise that sounded like a hyena running around, and guess who it was?
Yes, it was my little, loud-laugher cousin pretending to be Bloom from “Winx Club”. Oh, those annoying words always crawling up my ear even when I’m miles away from her:
“Winx transformation whoosh!” “Force of the red dragon!” “Whoosh, whoosh, die you stinky poop!” “You will never beet the power of the Winxs!” “Yeah, The Winxs rule!”
Oh my god, I preferred to bury my face on the charcoal than listening every minute the same thing again and again!
After thirty minutes of listening about a stupid fairy beating up grass or anything my cousin would find, I walked to her and sat down. Slowly, I spoke clearly so that she could understand me.
“Ok, Yoselin, THE WINX DO NOT EXIST OK!!!!! YOU WILL NEVER BE A FAIRY!!!!” I stood up again sat down. I turned around and I saw my cousin with her watery eyes. She sniffed a couple of times, and I begged for her not to cry, but it was too late. She shrieked, cried, sobbed, and ran to my aunt.
After that day, I realized that ruining kids imaginations can lead to thinks more annoying than that.

The Sheep That Nobody Want, Nobody Needs

I am a black sheep

that nobody wants,

nobody needs.

The white sheep,

like them I want to be.

Their wan, willing, wild coat,

their coquette, craving legs,

and when they walk,

to eat the grass,

Gingerly,

Male sheep notice,

but when I get close,

they grimace.

When I smile,

they run away.

I move

to a corner of the field,

where nobody will see me,

where I can cry alone.

tears run down my rough,

black night skin.

I don't bite,

I don't chew,

I just cry,

until my eyes become swollen.

Everyday,

I wonder,

Where do I belong?

Panic Is Not the Answer

It was a sunny day, I remember I was in my mom's room listening to music while reading a magazine.

In summer, Italy is really hot and because it's Saturday, no one goes out in the afternoon. There is actually nothing to do, there are no stores opened at this time. My eyes started to close as I tried to flip the page, but the magazine fell on my face and the last thing I saw was darkness.

After one hour of sleep, my eyes start to open because of the sun's light rays hitting my eyes. My eyes swing open slowly as I used my arms to cover the sunlight. I decided to go down to my grandfather's garden. I stood up and sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand and yawned a couple of times. I walked to the door with my eyes half opened and yawned again. I put my hand on the door knob and turned it a couple of times and for some reason the door knob would not pivot. I turned it again and again but it did not opened until I heard a cracking noise. I did not mind it at all and turned the knob again, but then, it broke.

I tried to put it again but it didn't work. I started to panic and I started to cry a lot. In a cursory manner, I tried to put the knob on its place, but as I did, I noticed that the other knob from the other side of the door broke too. My eyes opened widely and panicked even more. I cried and screamed for my mom again and again. I cried and cried even louder but no one heard me.

After 20 minutes of screaming and banging the door, my mom opened the door somehow but I didn't know how. She looked at me with a questioning face and I just ran into her arms. The only thing my mom did was laugh, but I kept on crying.

After that day, I realized that you shouldn't panic because it would only make things even worse.

Pre-Kinder Chaos

Today, I will confess something (and believe it or not, it was hard for me to write this), I did hate my pre-kinder year in Haiti. I started when I was 5 and it was a really sunny day, and I was ready for pre-kinder, but when we arrived to the school, things changed.

"CATY, stop it and please let go!!" My mom was struggling to leave me in the class. I kept on pulling from her dress and cried so much, even the classroom shacked from the noise. My mom started to get really mad with me.

"Caty, please just let go. Don't worry, mom will come and pick you really soon." As a little kid I was, I believed her in which was a big mistake for my mom to lie to me. She stood out side the class room so that at least I wouldn't cry and i would look around to see if she was there. Bit by bit she kept on leaving. After one moment I got really distracted and my mom ran and left me alone. When I turned and saw that mom was gone, I started to cry and it seemed like everything was shaking.

In the end, I kept on crying for two weeks and I never enjoyed my pre-kinder because of my principle that would always get annoyed by me every time I cried. So when Everybody say that they would like to go back to pre-kinder, I prefer to go back to kindergarden.

I Go to Music Class

because it's like

going to the mall

with friends.

The ones that smile

and do what comes to our mind.

My world, my life.

I go to music class

because it's like school.

A textbook

where we learn things

and keep it

with us

for the rest

of our lives.

My world, my life.

I go to music class

because it's like my house.

Where you're welcome.

No one puts you down

and there are no frowns found.

My world, my life

I went to music class today

because I saw him.

He smiled at me,

He spoke to me today.

But I don't go

to music class because

of him,

I go because,

I LOVE music.

Last Breath, Last Heart Beat

It's dark, silent, too silent. I know it – I'm not alone. I feel his presence, but it's to dark, I can't see. I just woke up – the night is gruesome . I'm nervous, scared – I just can't sleep. I sit for an hour on my bed, moving my head, gingerly with a grimace on my face, searching for someone or something around me. My surmise is that there is no one else here. I endeavor to sleep-- I try to think about happy thing, but it's not working.
There is nothing, at least that's what my eyes see. There are no windows opened, but it's still cold. I succumb to the fatigue of being awake. I want to sleep, but again, the horror began to clad my body.

Night after night, someone comes to my house, to my room. Is it my friend, the one that lives next to me? No,no,no – it cannot be him. He's my friend, why you he do this to me? I turn and turn in my bed, and the harsh mattress has done abrasion on my back causing me irritation and desperation.

My dehydrated throat asks for water– NO! I'm not getting up! Wait... what is that? I grab the blanket and pull it near me. A shadow appeared next to the door. I was electrified.

"Who's there?" I squinted my vision, and yes, there is someone -- What does he want? I made an inventory in my mind of who could it be. He's getting closer, and closer, and closer and...AHHHHH!!!!!

Only one shriek. I fight, I push, I do what I can to save my life. I don't want to die! I rebuff him, but the bed flips and covers my body. I can´t breath, I struggle and for one moment, I simulated that I am dead, but he keeps on pressing his body on the mattress. I feel the last drop of my life leaving my body. Even though I'm dead, I can see my killer hiding my body in a cursory manner because someone is knocking on the door. He touches my hand, corroborating my dead. My killer feels no regret, on the contrary, my death derived great satisfaction to him. I would like to scream 'I'm dead, I'm stoned dead!'