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!'