It was September 11, 2001. Out my bathroom window,a blue sky kissed the New York skyline. I was in my bathroom doing my makeup when I heard my daughter ask, "Mom, can I go to the dance?" Sasha said it in a nice way, but that wouldn't change my answer.
"You are not going to the dance," I said.
"Why?" my daughter asked angrily.
"Because I have to go to work and I can not pick you up,"I said.
"But Aunt Lizeth can pick me up," Sasha replied.
"NO!! You are not going to the dance and that is my last word," I said. It was hard for me because she always argued and never listened to what I said. It has always been like this with Sasha; I try, but she doesn't.
"I hate you!" Sasha said to herself stomping her feet.
"EXCUSE ME?? What did you just say?" I asked.
"You heard me," Sasha said, with that defiant head shake that make me want to kill her.
I walked towards the door mumbling, "You are in so much trouble when I get home." But I knew it was just going to be another fight.
"Bye," I said and Sasha did not answer. I just kept walking to my car. I was already tired and it was only 6:30 in the morning. This was a normal fall morning. It seemed like we had a fight every morning.
I drove to work, toward the North Tower. I was a secretary on the tenth floor and had been working there for five years. I arrived early that morning - too early, 7am. Already at that time there were many people in the building, but not nearly as many as would fill it later in the day. I got to work early because I had lots of work to do. At 8 am, I was caught up in my work, and I had started my normal day. I was really into my work when I heard a thunderous noise outside. Curious, I looked. A plane was flying by. Everyone in our office was looking out the windows and wondering why a plane was flying so close to the tower. "I have never seen a plane in Manhatten?!" I said to my boss. Nobody knew why it was there! And, it was flying so low, too low.
Boom!
The plane crashed into the top floors of the North Tower. I felt the building shake, and smoke seemed to immediately fill our office. I thought I was going to die right there. As I ran to escape from the building, I heard many people were calling for help. I wanted to help them, but I was trying to save myself. Instinct pulled me toward the stairs, away from the pleas for help. I was running down the stairs without thinking. I had reached the second floor when I heard a loud rumbling. Only later would I find out this is when the tower started falling down. I didn't slow down, I just wanted to get out.
It was all happening so fast. Suddenly, my daughter popped into my mind. I knew that she would be worried about me if she had seen this on the news. The building shook again and I fell down, and I couldn't breath because all of the smoke. I thought, I am going to die. But just as suddenly I thought, I will not die. I will not leave my daughter alone. At that moment I didn't care about the fight that we had had that morning. I knew that I would change if I got out of this building alive. There would be no more fights or anger, just happiness. So I had to get out, but how? Everybody seemed to be screaming and crying, but I soon realized that I was on the first floor of the tower; I was almost out! It was then I saw something coming towards me. I felt as though the entire building crashed down upon me.
The next time I opened my eyes, I found myself in the dark. I thought I was dead, but then I coughed. I coughed again, and then realized that I wasn't dead, but I was hurt. I screamed for help.
Finally, a firefighter found me. I wasn't dead, but I was hurt really bad. I had broken a leg and a arm. My body was covered with blood because of all the cuts that covered every inch of me. He picked me up, but even though he was trained to help me, I couldn't help thinking that we weren't going to make it out. All I wanted to say to my daughter was, "I LOVE YOU." Some way I had to tell her that. But how? I didn't know then that all the phones lines were dead, so I couldn't call her, and she couldn't call me ether. I kept trying to reach for my phone, but my arm wouldn't move. I wanted to get out of the building quickly so I could call my daughter to let her know that I was OK. I knew I was OK. In my heart, I knew that I wasn't going to die; I couldn't. That's when the firefighter leaned down and said, "We are almost out of here. Hold on!"
I'm Safe! I thought when I saw light right in front of us. We were coming out of all of the smoke, and like a dream I saw my daughter and my sister running towards me. I couldn't believe it, my daughter was crying. I had never saw my daughter crying for me; in my heart I knew that she had changed, too. The firefighter put me in the ambulance, and my sister and my daughter jumped in. We all drove to the hospital together. I got to the emergency room and a lot of nurses gathered around me. They took me to a white room, and the doctor put me to sleep. When I woke up that night, my sister and my daughter were in the room with me, each one holding one of my hands. We were together in the dingy green room, my daughter asleep next to me in a blue rocking chair. My sister asked me, "How do you feel?"
I answered, " I am OK...now."
The doctor came in, and he told me that I had a broken arm, broken leg, and five broken ribs: three ribs on the left, and two on the right side. My daughter woke up, and she asked me, "Mom, are you OK?"
I answered, crying, "Yes, I'm OK."
"I LOVE YOU," she said.
I answered with a smile, "I LOVE YOU, too." It's ironic, tragedy has a way of bringing people closer together.
THE END!
By ~ Yesenia
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Sonamax - A Gladiator Story ~by Paul G.
This is a true story, not make believe. I hoped that I would earn my freedom, but this is reality. Often in tales the good guy wins, and evil fails. But not in reality. In reality, people die and evil often does win. So here is my story, a true story.
I have to get there! I have to get there! The thought filled my head; it was all I could think. Though I could not yet hear the guards footsteps behind mine, I wanted to get to the house as soon as I could and warn my boy about the games.
There was no time to think about my escape from the Colosseum. I could feel the burn in my muscles and the pain in my chest. I was breathing hard. I had to try to calm down. Around me the trees were whispering to each other, urging me on from the gentle night breeze. Dashing swiftly and quietly through the mud and brick city's dirt road, I saw that I was close. I turned one more corner and there it was. A single tear fell from my eyes. My small house; through the darkness of the night I could make it out. I knew this would be the last time I would ever see this house.
Another tear started to fall; I wiped it away quickly. There were other things to worry about. I could hear the guards footsteps coming closer now. I was going to be captured. I had to make use of these last minutes before they found me.
I was only a couple feet away from my house, so I jumped up onto the porch and ran through the doorway. The smell of bread and cheese filled my nostrils; I ran to my boy's room, and tapped him on the shoulder. He woke up and said in a shocked voice "Father, what are you do-."
I interrupted him before he could finish and said, "Shhhh. Now listen to me. Never become a gladiator! Do you hear me? NEVER! If the soldiers are capturing slaves, don't try to be brave. Just run."
My son was more awake now, nodding his head in agreement. "Yes father, I hear you," He cried. His eyes, like mine, swelled with tears.
"Now, I want you to tell your mother that I love her, and that I shall see her again in heaven." Tears now flowed freely from my eyes. I hugged my son knowing that this would be the last time I would ever see him . "I have to go now or they will take you too," I sobbed.
"No, please stay here, I don't want you to go!" he stuttered, tears running down his face.
"I'm sorry. You are the most important person in my life, and I can't have them take you too. Goodbye. I will never forgive myself." Those were my last words and I was out the room.
I saw the guards circling the house now, their swords ready. I figured that they must have seen me run into the house. I saw that they they hadn't covered the back of the house yet, so I hopped out the window and started to run. But before I took three steps I saw a guard running toward me, calling out my name. "Sonamax! Sonamax! Come out. We know you are here!"
I could see the guard clearly in the light glowing from his lantern. A silver, shiny suit covered most of his body, and a silver helmet protected his head. He had a three-foot long sword and a small round shield. Thank God it was night, otherwise he would have seen me. I picked up a large branch and hid behind a corner. I was hoping that if I could hit the guard hard enough, the blow would knock him unconscious, and I would be able to make a run for it.
I could hear his footsteps getting closer. I only had one chance to get this blow off. I saw one of his feet step into my view. As he walked around the corner, I threw the branch and it whistled through the air. Before he could harm me, there was a deafening clash and the guard dropped to the ground unconscious. I knelt down and my fingers touched something wet. I picked up the lantern and looked. I could see a puddle of blood starting to form behind his head. I picked up his head and saw what was causing the bleeding. There had been a rock right where his head had landed.The branch had knocked his helmet off and the back of his head had hit the rock.
It was then I flashed back to the fight at the Colosseum. The bleeding corpse at my feet. The crowd cheering at the death.
Just as quickly, I was back in my small town with an unconscious guard lying in the soft grass; his head bleeding, his arms and legs limp in the darkness of the night. I knelt down and checked his pulse, one of the only positive skills I learned in gladiator school. He was still alive. I grabbed his sword and started to run but a piercing pain bolted through my leg. I tumbled to the ground, only to find an arrow sticking in my calf and four guards approaching.
"Well, well, if it isn't Sonamax?" said the guard in front. "We have finally caught you. Hard to believe that you could actually escape the Colosseum. The guards were amazed when you where able to sneak through the barracks and past them without any of them noticing!" The guard was a tall man, possibly six foot three to six foot four, stern and hardened from years of fighting. But at that moment, he seemed pleasantly amused. By the look of his face, I figured he was in his late twenties, possibly early thirties. I studied the other three guards. Two of them were also tall, and by the look of their faces it looked like they had not smiled in years. But the last guard was shorter than the others by an entire head. "Come, let's chain him up; we have a long way to walk." They pulled my hands behind my back, and tied chains around them. They picked up the unconscious guard and then started to walk. I looked behind me and considered trying to run. But the pain in my leg was to strong, and they would probably catch me in an instant, so I just went with them.
Then the shortest one said, "So Sonamax, tell us your story. It will give us some sort of entertainment for the walk back."
I refused at first, but then I figured there was nothing better to do. I knew they would kill me either way, once we got back to the Colosseum. "Well," I sighed, "I was captured last year in 245 BC. I was just a regular man, living a regular life, until you came in."
"Me?" the man questioned.
"Guards," I said. "Lots of them. When they first started the raid, I had no idea what was happening. I saw smoke on the other side of the town, and people running and screaming. Then I saw guards riding on armored horses throwing nets over the citizens. When I saw this, I knew what was happening. I had heard stories," I sighed, "I started to run, too, but in an instant, I was trapped under a net, and I was falling onto the hot dirt road." I paused. I looked at the guards' faces. They were emotionless, the same as always, not troubled by the story.
Then the shortest one said, "Then what?"
At least he showed some interest! "I can't remember what happened then, I think I hit my head on a rock. I woke up a couple hours later, riding in a wagon. There were four other people on it also. They all looked very muscular and sad, as if something terrible had happened to them." I stopped talking. I could feel the tears coming. I blinked and held them back. I noticed the guards hard faces still looked emotionless. "Then, I remembered what had happened and why these people looked sad. I remembered the raid and the guards on the horses. I started to sit up but a person with dark skin and big brown eyes said, 'No. Stop and rest. You hit your head badly you need to let it heal.' I slowly laid back down. The man was tall, maybe six foot two or six foot three. He had a thick body, muscular arms and legs, and scar running down the side of his face. I fell back asleep and I didn't wake up until we stopped at the gladiator school."
It was a big, brick building with very few windows. We were taught to fight each other using wooden swords, and blunt iron objects. We trained with an instructor. The instructors were mostly past gladiators who won their freedom in the Gladiator games. They told us of great fights and victories. I heard that once a man had to fight his own brother to the death! Anyway, the training went well. I was better than I thought I would be. Everyone said I was a natural, able to do all the strike attack movements easily. I relaxed and began to enjoy myself until I had my first fight the Colosseum. It was at the end of the fight..." I paused sucking up the tears and recollecting myself.
"I was fighting a bigger man, possibly six foot eight of six foot seven. Had a broad face and a beard and dark blue eyes. And as I said it was at the end of the fight. I lunged my sword straight at his stomach but he blocked it with his shield. He pushed me back with his shield, took a step back and swung a blow at my head, I ducked, took a step to my left, and swung my sword at his wrist. It hit, and blood pulsed out. He dropped his sword in shock and tried to cover the wound. He was defenseless and his life was in my hands. I looked at the emperor; he was contemplating. He stuck his hand out and put a thumb down. The crowd roared. I knew what I had to do. I raised my sword and brought it down on his neck. It was then that the enormity of what I had done hit me. I saw the man laying there; his face pale and his body motionless. I knew that man probably had a family and dreams. And I had ended them with one quick stroke. After that I went crazy thinking of what I did. I didn't want to believe I was a killer but I was. From that moment on, there was always something to remind me of what I had done. I thought about committing suicide, but I could never bring myself to do it. It didn't take long until I knew I had to worn my boy about the games."
"Yes, I was wondering how you could have escaped."
One of them said, "Then I shall tell you."
I said, "It is quite simple actually. I had studied and devised a plan. In the morning I found a rag and wrapped it around my leg. I will tell you why I did this later. I figured out that at mid day the guards would go for their meal. At the same time a man would walk through the barracks giving food to the gladiators through the bars of the cells. The Gladiators had to stick their hands out for the man to give them food. When he saw me sitting in a chair away from the bars he asked me why I wasn't standing at the bars like the others. I told him that my leg was injured and that he would have to come give it to me. I showed him the bandage wrapped around my leg. He took out a key, opened the gate, and walked over to give me the food. When he did, I punched him in the stomach and then slammed his head in the wall. I made sure he was alive, then made a run through the opened gate." I looked at the guards. "I assume someone had to see me, or you wouldn't be here." I said. I looked ahead and saw we were arriving at the Colosseum.
"Killing was not like I had been told. There was no glory, no pride. Instead I felt like a thief. I had taken all that man's hopes and all that man's dreams for nothing. All his dreams had vanished in a flash. And he was innocent.
"I wish I had never killed that man. After it was over, I wished I were the one killed, not him." The guards looked at me strangely then the one in front said, "Well Sonamax, tomorrow you will get your wish!"
I looked at him and whispered, "Thank you."
By ~ Paul
I have to get there! I have to get there! The thought filled my head; it was all I could think. Though I could not yet hear the guards footsteps behind mine, I wanted to get to the house as soon as I could and warn my boy about the games.
There was no time to think about my escape from the Colosseum. I could feel the burn in my muscles and the pain in my chest. I was breathing hard. I had to try to calm down. Around me the trees were whispering to each other, urging me on from the gentle night breeze. Dashing swiftly and quietly through the mud and brick city's dirt road, I saw that I was close. I turned one more corner and there it was. A single tear fell from my eyes. My small house; through the darkness of the night I could make it out. I knew this would be the last time I would ever see this house.
Another tear started to fall; I wiped it away quickly. There were other things to worry about. I could hear the guards footsteps coming closer now. I was going to be captured. I had to make use of these last minutes before they found me.
I was only a couple feet away from my house, so I jumped up onto the porch and ran through the doorway. The smell of bread and cheese filled my nostrils; I ran to my boy's room, and tapped him on the shoulder. He woke up and said in a shocked voice "Father, what are you do-."
I interrupted him before he could finish and said, "Shhhh. Now listen to me. Never become a gladiator! Do you hear me? NEVER! If the soldiers are capturing slaves, don't try to be brave. Just run."
My son was more awake now, nodding his head in agreement. "Yes father, I hear you," He cried. His eyes, like mine, swelled with tears.
"Now, I want you to tell your mother that I love her, and that I shall see her again in heaven." Tears now flowed freely from my eyes. I hugged my son knowing that this would be the last time I would ever see him . "I have to go now or they will take you too," I sobbed.
"No, please stay here, I don't want you to go!" he stuttered, tears running down his face.
"I'm sorry. You are the most important person in my life, and I can't have them take you too. Goodbye. I will never forgive myself." Those were my last words and I was out the room.
I saw the guards circling the house now, their swords ready. I figured that they must have seen me run into the house. I saw that they they hadn't covered the back of the house yet, so I hopped out the window and started to run. But before I took three steps I saw a guard running toward me, calling out my name. "Sonamax! Sonamax! Come out. We know you are here!"
I could see the guard clearly in the light glowing from his lantern. A silver, shiny suit covered most of his body, and a silver helmet protected his head. He had a three-foot long sword and a small round shield. Thank God it was night, otherwise he would have seen me. I picked up a large branch and hid behind a corner. I was hoping that if I could hit the guard hard enough, the blow would knock him unconscious, and I would be able to make a run for it.
I could hear his footsteps getting closer. I only had one chance to get this blow off. I saw one of his feet step into my view. As he walked around the corner, I threw the branch and it whistled through the air. Before he could harm me, there was a deafening clash and the guard dropped to the ground unconscious. I knelt down and my fingers touched something wet. I picked up the lantern and looked. I could see a puddle of blood starting to form behind his head. I picked up his head and saw what was causing the bleeding. There had been a rock right where his head had landed.The branch had knocked his helmet off and the back of his head had hit the rock.
It was then I flashed back to the fight at the Colosseum. The bleeding corpse at my feet. The crowd cheering at the death.
Just as quickly, I was back in my small town with an unconscious guard lying in the soft grass; his head bleeding, his arms and legs limp in the darkness of the night. I knelt down and checked his pulse, one of the only positive skills I learned in gladiator school. He was still alive. I grabbed his sword and started to run but a piercing pain bolted through my leg. I tumbled to the ground, only to find an arrow sticking in my calf and four guards approaching.
"Well, well, if it isn't Sonamax?" said the guard in front. "We have finally caught you. Hard to believe that you could actually escape the Colosseum. The guards were amazed when you where able to sneak through the barracks and past them without any of them noticing!" The guard was a tall man, possibly six foot three to six foot four, stern and hardened from years of fighting. But at that moment, he seemed pleasantly amused. By the look of his face, I figured he was in his late twenties, possibly early thirties. I studied the other three guards. Two of them were also tall, and by the look of their faces it looked like they had not smiled in years. But the last guard was shorter than the others by an entire head. "Come, let's chain him up; we have a long way to walk." They pulled my hands behind my back, and tied chains around them. They picked up the unconscious guard and then started to walk. I looked behind me and considered trying to run. But the pain in my leg was to strong, and they would probably catch me in an instant, so I just went with them.
Then the shortest one said, "So Sonamax, tell us your story. It will give us some sort of entertainment for the walk back."
I refused at first, but then I figured there was nothing better to do. I knew they would kill me either way, once we got back to the Colosseum. "Well," I sighed, "I was captured last year in 245 BC. I was just a regular man, living a regular life, until you came in."
"Me?" the man questioned.
"Guards," I said. "Lots of them. When they first started the raid, I had no idea what was happening. I saw smoke on the other side of the town, and people running and screaming. Then I saw guards riding on armored horses throwing nets over the citizens. When I saw this, I knew what was happening. I had heard stories," I sighed, "I started to run, too, but in an instant, I was trapped under a net, and I was falling onto the hot dirt road." I paused. I looked at the guards' faces. They were emotionless, the same as always, not troubled by the story.
Then the shortest one said, "Then what?"
At least he showed some interest! "I can't remember what happened then, I think I hit my head on a rock. I woke up a couple hours later, riding in a wagon. There were four other people on it also. They all looked very muscular and sad, as if something terrible had happened to them." I stopped talking. I could feel the tears coming. I blinked and held them back. I noticed the guards hard faces still looked emotionless. "Then, I remembered what had happened and why these people looked sad. I remembered the raid and the guards on the horses. I started to sit up but a person with dark skin and big brown eyes said, 'No. Stop and rest. You hit your head badly you need to let it heal.' I slowly laid back down. The man was tall, maybe six foot two or six foot three. He had a thick body, muscular arms and legs, and scar running down the side of his face. I fell back asleep and I didn't wake up until we stopped at the gladiator school."
It was a big, brick building with very few windows. We were taught to fight each other using wooden swords, and blunt iron objects. We trained with an instructor. The instructors were mostly past gladiators who won their freedom in the Gladiator games. They told us of great fights and victories. I heard that once a man had to fight his own brother to the death! Anyway, the training went well. I was better than I thought I would be. Everyone said I was a natural, able to do all the strike attack movements easily. I relaxed and began to enjoy myself until I had my first fight the Colosseum. It was at the end of the fight..." I paused sucking up the tears and recollecting myself.
"I was fighting a bigger man, possibly six foot eight of six foot seven. Had a broad face and a beard and dark blue eyes. And as I said it was at the end of the fight. I lunged my sword straight at his stomach but he blocked it with his shield. He pushed me back with his shield, took a step back and swung a blow at my head, I ducked, took a step to my left, and swung my sword at his wrist. It hit, and blood pulsed out. He dropped his sword in shock and tried to cover the wound. He was defenseless and his life was in my hands. I looked at the emperor; he was contemplating. He stuck his hand out and put a thumb down. The crowd roared. I knew what I had to do. I raised my sword and brought it down on his neck. It was then that the enormity of what I had done hit me. I saw the man laying there; his face pale and his body motionless. I knew that man probably had a family and dreams. And I had ended them with one quick stroke. After that I went crazy thinking of what I did. I didn't want to believe I was a killer but I was. From that moment on, there was always something to remind me of what I had done. I thought about committing suicide, but I could never bring myself to do it. It didn't take long until I knew I had to worn my boy about the games."
"Yes, I was wondering how you could have escaped."
One of them said, "Then I shall tell you."
I said, "It is quite simple actually. I had studied and devised a plan. In the morning I found a rag and wrapped it around my leg. I will tell you why I did this later. I figured out that at mid day the guards would go for their meal. At the same time a man would walk through the barracks giving food to the gladiators through the bars of the cells. The Gladiators had to stick their hands out for the man to give them food. When he saw me sitting in a chair away from the bars he asked me why I wasn't standing at the bars like the others. I told him that my leg was injured and that he would have to come give it to me. I showed him the bandage wrapped around my leg. He took out a key, opened the gate, and walked over to give me the food. When he did, I punched him in the stomach and then slammed his head in the wall. I made sure he was alive, then made a run through the opened gate." I looked at the guards. "I assume someone had to see me, or you wouldn't be here." I said. I looked ahead and saw we were arriving at the Colosseum.
"Killing was not like I had been told. There was no glory, no pride. Instead I felt like a thief. I had taken all that man's hopes and all that man's dreams for nothing. All his dreams had vanished in a flash. And he was innocent.
"I wish I had never killed that man. After it was over, I wished I were the one killed, not him." The guards looked at me strangely then the one in front said, "Well Sonamax, tomorrow you will get your wish!"
I looked at him and whispered, "Thank you."
By ~ Paul
Escaping The Cultural Revolution ~by Adam
Sayman gazed out the window to the bustling streets of 1996 Shanghai. Children laughed and darted about without a care, their parents striding past the colorful market stalls. Sayman sighed sadly. She knew she did not have much time. The cancer resigned her to a miserable fate. The sparkling sunbeams filtered into the hotel room, a balmy glow making her feel drowsy. Sayman knew that the time had come for her children to know of her story.
"In the small town where we resided, your father, Nounsan, and I were celebrating your sister Jacqueline's half birthday. The door burst open, and a telegram was delivered. I glanced at my husband's face. He frowned. 'I must leave tonight, or they will kill me.' While this was not overly surprising, as China had been under communist rule for over a year, and Nounsan was bourgeois, capitalist, and belonged to the five black categories, I was stunned. His voice burst through my thoughts. 'We will leave separately and meet in Hong Kong as soon as is possible.'
"No!" the strength of my own voice surprised me.
"Sayman," Nounsan whispered, "it is for the best." I followed him to the door where he held Jacqueline and smiled. The warmth of that smile would heat the coldness of the coming months. "I will see you soon." It was not a plea or question; it was a fact.
Through my tears, I made out the figure hurrying through the dark night. I wandered throughout the house remembering the long, happy years spent here. I left just minutes after Nounsan's departure with Jacqueline in one arm and a small bag with food and a box of matches in the other. Glancing back through the small doorway, I saw three bowls of rice still warm on the table, a reminder of the happy celebration interrupted just hours before.
I ran. Feet pounding against the dry ground. Stumbling occasionally, I did not feel the burning of my legs. I felt only the sorrow of my heart. The sorrow for a girl who may never again see her father. The sorrow for a man fearful for his family. Sorrow for a world filled with war and power struggles. But for myself, I felt only the anger fueling my lungs. For the first time, I hated Mao, the one who started it all.
I slowed and tramped for miles, until the dusk engulfed us. I continued until the dawn lengthened our shadows once more. Jacqueline's plump face was peaceful, and she had not made a sound for hours. I trekked along the rutted path for a mile more. Over the fertile hill appeared a rural farming town. Entering the largest of the random roads, and weaving through small homes I wandered aimlessly through the town. . We slept. Everywhere I looked, Mao was there, red painted on the background around his face. The people of this village had calloused hands and worry lines from their hard and tiring work. After the communists came to power, everything changed, and yet nothing had. (more powerful shorter.) We slept in an abandoned, mud splattered cart found on the road that night. The cart was a weary companion for countless travelers. For the first time, Jacqueline and I slept under the starry skies of the heavens.
Months later, I had relocated from town to town countless times. I allowed myself to stay at each town for no more than a month, because of the fear that we might be found by the Chinese police. All the time, I towed the cart with Jacqueline inside. She had adapted and become a quiet baby. This was necessary or she would endanger our lives. We had learned many things traveling. We had learned how to satisfy our hunger with stream water, and not to trust those who could not think for themselves, those who Mao had brainwashed and blinded with propaganda. We had learned how to pick berries from bushes, and while the berries never filled our bellies, we would not steal. But on that well trodden path to a town by the sea, I realized that nobody could ever succeed in preventing determination from reaching its destination. Corruption, evil, hate, and malice could delay the eventual outcome of a struggle, but they could never change it. I paused to rest under the shade of a peach tree. The half-formed blossoms swayed in the gentle breeze. Like this tree, I would bend to the communist party, but I would not break. I continued down the slight incline to the boat headed for Shanghai.
I clambered onto the slow cargo ship, Jacqueline toddled beside me. At one and a half years, she was surprisingly large and strong. We had bribed the crew hands to smuggle us to Shanghai, but only after we were sure they would not betray us to the authorities. When we snuck on board, a man holding a lantern beckoned to us. We followed him into a hold full of goods that were headed to the big cities. The goods were under tarps and I did not dare to ask exactly what the cargo was. The man lifted a small plank to reveal the handle of a trapdoor. "Get in!" he ordered.
I descended the ladder. A difficult task with a small toddler. As we climbed down into the darkness, I heard frightened whispers. At the bottom of the ladder, I lit one of my remaining matches. The match's small aura of light revealed many faces huddling together, a small taste of the sorrow that communism had secretly brought to our country. "Who were you?" a small refugee asked in a pinched, tired voice. I recounted my story, the tale of my content life before, and others quietly recounted their stories as well. It was strange: a group of the oppressed shivering in the rags of their former wealth. A musty ship's hold their palace, and rats their courtiers. Lost in our stories, the only possessions we deemed fit to share with others, we barely realized that we were on our way to Shanghai.
The ship stopped with a jolt. We had traveled only half of the time needed to arrive at Shanghai, and this terrible fact silenced all conversation. Boots traveled heavily on the deck above, ripping sounds echoing as the tarps were torn. Soldiers. Jacqueline cried, a testament to how frightened she felt. The tramping stopped. Urgent hisses told me to quiet her. I smothered her mouth, so she could breath but not make noise. The soldiers continued their search. Jacqueline fell asleep my to my relief.
My eyelids, crusted over with salt, opened. The movement of the ship was eerily absent, and the water lapped at the hull. The refugees began emerging from the boat, one by one into the darkness. The stragglers waited under the deck, half expecting screams and gunshots. Nothing. Only the wind swishing over the water. I emerged, cradling Jacqueline in my arms. A shadow darted from a bush, and I froze, hardly breathing. I waited for the gruff voice of a tired soldier, but heard a familiar one. "Sayman?"
Nounsan! I ran toward him. As we walked slowly so that Jacqueline could keep up, we could not control our feelings of disbelief. At last, we had been reunited. Nounsan had waited for almost a year for us, checking continually for our arrival at the corner of Haiying Cun. Jacqueline looked up at her father's face, now the face of a stranger. The black waters of the harbor embraced the land. Lights from the surrounding city mimicked the stars of the night sky. I took a breath. It tasted cool and moist upon my tongue, the taste of freedom, of safety, of the promise of a new life.
The day passed as I told my tale. The velvet folds of night had enclosed us. I looked at the world around us. I knew I would savor this life.
by ~ Adam
"In the small town where we resided, your father, Nounsan, and I were celebrating your sister Jacqueline's half birthday. The door burst open, and a telegram was delivered. I glanced at my husband's face. He frowned. 'I must leave tonight, or they will kill me.' While this was not overly surprising, as China had been under communist rule for over a year, and Nounsan was bourgeois, capitalist, and belonged to the five black categories, I was stunned. His voice burst through my thoughts. 'We will leave separately and meet in Hong Kong as soon as is possible.'
"No!" the strength of my own voice surprised me.
"Sayman," Nounsan whispered, "it is for the best." I followed him to the door where he held Jacqueline and smiled. The warmth of that smile would heat the coldness of the coming months. "I will see you soon." It was not a plea or question; it was a fact.
Through my tears, I made out the figure hurrying through the dark night. I wandered throughout the house remembering the long, happy years spent here. I left just minutes after Nounsan's departure with Jacqueline in one arm and a small bag with food and a box of matches in the other. Glancing back through the small doorway, I saw three bowls of rice still warm on the table, a reminder of the happy celebration interrupted just hours before.
I ran. Feet pounding against the dry ground. Stumbling occasionally, I did not feel the burning of my legs. I felt only the sorrow of my heart. The sorrow for a girl who may never again see her father. The sorrow for a man fearful for his family. Sorrow for a world filled with war and power struggles. But for myself, I felt only the anger fueling my lungs. For the first time, I hated Mao, the one who started it all.
I slowed and tramped for miles, until the dusk engulfed us. I continued until the dawn lengthened our shadows once more. Jacqueline's plump face was peaceful, and she had not made a sound for hours. I trekked along the rutted path for a mile more. Over the fertile hill appeared a rural farming town. Entering the largest of the random roads, and weaving through small homes I wandered aimlessly through the town. . We slept. Everywhere I looked, Mao was there, red painted on the background around his face. The people of this village had calloused hands and worry lines from their hard and tiring work. After the communists came to power, everything changed, and yet nothing had. (more powerful shorter.) We slept in an abandoned, mud splattered cart found on the road that night. The cart was a weary companion for countless travelers. For the first time, Jacqueline and I slept under the starry skies of the heavens.
Months later, I had relocated from town to town countless times. I allowed myself to stay at each town for no more than a month, because of the fear that we might be found by the Chinese police. All the time, I towed the cart with Jacqueline inside. She had adapted and become a quiet baby. This was necessary or she would endanger our lives. We had learned many things traveling. We had learned how to satisfy our hunger with stream water, and not to trust those who could not think for themselves, those who Mao had brainwashed and blinded with propaganda. We had learned how to pick berries from bushes, and while the berries never filled our bellies, we would not steal. But on that well trodden path to a town by the sea, I realized that nobody could ever succeed in preventing determination from reaching its destination. Corruption, evil, hate, and malice could delay the eventual outcome of a struggle, but they could never change it. I paused to rest under the shade of a peach tree. The half-formed blossoms swayed in the gentle breeze. Like this tree, I would bend to the communist party, but I would not break. I continued down the slight incline to the boat headed for Shanghai.
I clambered onto the slow cargo ship, Jacqueline toddled beside me. At one and a half years, she was surprisingly large and strong. We had bribed the crew hands to smuggle us to Shanghai, but only after we were sure they would not betray us to the authorities. When we snuck on board, a man holding a lantern beckoned to us. We followed him into a hold full of goods that were headed to the big cities. The goods were under tarps and I did not dare to ask exactly what the cargo was. The man lifted a small plank to reveal the handle of a trapdoor. "Get in!" he ordered.
I descended the ladder. A difficult task with a small toddler. As we climbed down into the darkness, I heard frightened whispers. At the bottom of the ladder, I lit one of my remaining matches. The match's small aura of light revealed many faces huddling together, a small taste of the sorrow that communism had secretly brought to our country. "Who were you?" a small refugee asked in a pinched, tired voice. I recounted my story, the tale of my content life before, and others quietly recounted their stories as well. It was strange: a group of the oppressed shivering in the rags of their former wealth. A musty ship's hold their palace, and rats their courtiers. Lost in our stories, the only possessions we deemed fit to share with others, we barely realized that we were on our way to Shanghai.
The ship stopped with a jolt. We had traveled only half of the time needed to arrive at Shanghai, and this terrible fact silenced all conversation. Boots traveled heavily on the deck above, ripping sounds echoing as the tarps were torn. Soldiers. Jacqueline cried, a testament to how frightened she felt. The tramping stopped. Urgent hisses told me to quiet her. I smothered her mouth, so she could breath but not make noise. The soldiers continued their search. Jacqueline fell asleep my to my relief.
My eyelids, crusted over with salt, opened. The movement of the ship was eerily absent, and the water lapped at the hull. The refugees began emerging from the boat, one by one into the darkness. The stragglers waited under the deck, half expecting screams and gunshots. Nothing. Only the wind swishing over the water. I emerged, cradling Jacqueline in my arms. A shadow darted from a bush, and I froze, hardly breathing. I waited for the gruff voice of a tired soldier, but heard a familiar one. "Sayman?"
Nounsan! I ran toward him. As we walked slowly so that Jacqueline could keep up, we could not control our feelings of disbelief. At last, we had been reunited. Nounsan had waited for almost a year for us, checking continually for our arrival at the corner of Haiying Cun. Jacqueline looked up at her father's face, now the face of a stranger. The black waters of the harbor embraced the land. Lights from the surrounding city mimicked the stars of the night sky. I took a breath. It tasted cool and moist upon my tongue, the taste of freedom, of safety, of the promise of a new life.
The day passed as I told my tale. The velvet folds of night had enclosed us. I looked at the world around us. I knew I would savor this life.
by ~ Adam
9/11 ~ A Story of an Hero -by Yesica
It was Tuesday morning in Manhattan, New York. Blue skies were overhead; it was a sun-shinny day. I had arrived at work early today and was logging into my computer. I'd worked for Cantor Fitzgerald for seven years. I had lots of friends at work, and best of all my best friend worked with me, too. My friend had a baby. When she went to work. she always left her baby with a babysitter.
I open the blinds for window of my office; I looked outside the window and at 8:00 is was already nice and warm. It was a beautiful day outside. The day was flying by as I had already been at work for 37 minutes. I looked outside the window again thinking that it was really a beautiful day.
At 8:45, a plane was flying by the tower. This never happened! It was too low. My coworker shouted, "Why is that plane flying by?" Nobody answered. Nobody knew why. Then we watched as it crashed into the North Tower. Fire exploded out of the building.
We all started running toward the door. I just wanted to get out. Everyone was shouting. My boss stopped us and told us, "Calm down. We need to think."
Looking across the way at the North tower, I saw people on fire. Black smoke poured from the towers. Fire trucks were arriving at the scene and firefighters were spraying water onto the North Tower because there was fire even at the bottom. We watched from the 77th floor. Thousands of people were exiting both of the Twin Towers. I watched people run out of the towers.
I knew I needed to get out too. I knew I needed to take my best friend with me. I found her and she said to me, "Should we get out of here?"
"Yes! We should," I said. We both ran to the elevator, but it didn't work. We had to go down the stairs, even thought it was a very long way.
"I hope I make it home to my baby," she cried as we started down.
As if no time had passed, a second plane came into view. It was going to crash in to the tower that I was in. Everyone panicked and started running. I started thinking of people who were in the top of the tower. Would they get out? I felt scared that we would not get out of the tower. Would we be stuck? How are we going to get out? Am I going to die? I wondered. I was also so scared that my friend would never see her baby again.
My friend was crying about her baby we went where her baby was but the baby sitter wasn't there the other plain crashed into the tower. She was screaming about her baby she saw the baby sitter going down stairs with the baby. She took the baby out of the baby sitters arms she told the women if her baby was okay.We started walking the sitter didn't go with us. We stopped and told her to come with us she said she was to old to run. I told her I would carried but she didn't come.
I was terrified. I knew I had to run in order to save my life, but could I leave these people behind? The 77th floor was filled with injured people covered with blood, and people who were already dead. I turned to my friend. She was bleeding and limping. I knew I had to save her. I took her baby in my arms and took my friend from her arm and started running down stairs she was falling down but we keeped running down stairs.
As they exited the tower, a policeman ushered them down the street. The TV crews were waiting at the edge of town. A cameraman asked, "How did you have the strength to carry her?"
She said, "It wouldn't have been worth living, it I had let her die!"
I open the blinds for window of my office; I looked outside the window and at 8:00 is was already nice and warm. It was a beautiful day outside. The day was flying by as I had already been at work for 37 minutes. I looked outside the window again thinking that it was really a beautiful day.
At 8:45, a plane was flying by the tower. This never happened! It was too low. My coworker shouted, "Why is that plane flying by?" Nobody answered. Nobody knew why. Then we watched as it crashed into the North Tower. Fire exploded out of the building.
We all started running toward the door. I just wanted to get out. Everyone was shouting. My boss stopped us and told us, "Calm down. We need to think."
Looking across the way at the North tower, I saw people on fire. Black smoke poured from the towers. Fire trucks were arriving at the scene and firefighters were spraying water onto the North Tower because there was fire even at the bottom. We watched from the 77th floor. Thousands of people were exiting both of the Twin Towers. I watched people run out of the towers.
I knew I needed to get out too. I knew I needed to take my best friend with me. I found her and she said to me, "Should we get out of here?"
"Yes! We should," I said. We both ran to the elevator, but it didn't work. We had to go down the stairs, even thought it was a very long way.
"I hope I make it home to my baby," she cried as we started down.
As if no time had passed, a second plane came into view. It was going to crash in to the tower that I was in. Everyone panicked and started running. I started thinking of people who were in the top of the tower. Would they get out? I felt scared that we would not get out of the tower. Would we be stuck? How are we going to get out? Am I going to die? I wondered. I was also so scared that my friend would never see her baby again.
My friend was crying about her baby we went where her baby was but the baby sitter wasn't there the other plain crashed into the tower. She was screaming about her baby she saw the baby sitter going down stairs with the baby. She took the baby out of the baby sitters arms she told the women if her baby was okay.We started walking the sitter didn't go with us. We stopped and told her to come with us she said she was to old to run. I told her I would carried but she didn't come.
I was terrified. I knew I had to run in order to save my life, but could I leave these people behind? The 77th floor was filled with injured people covered with blood, and people who were already dead. I turned to my friend. She was bleeding and limping. I knew I had to save her. I took her baby in my arms and took my friend from her arm and started running down stairs she was falling down but we keeped running down stairs.
As they exited the tower, a policeman ushered them down the street. The TV crews were waiting at the edge of town. A cameraman asked, "How did you have the strength to carry her?"
She said, "It wouldn't have been worth living, it I had let her die!"
Roman Gladiators ~by Brady
Running down a narrow alley, away from the Roman police, was the baker, Fabricius. He just stolen some money from a merchant. Since his family was poor and he needed the money, in his mind, it was time to take drastic measures. Finally, when the policemen were within reaching distance of the baker, a policeman lunged and took out the legs of the muscular man. He fell to the ground about 100 yards from the bakery. At that moment, the baker lost all hope. The coins scattered everywhere. He was on the ground and the police were on his back, chaining him in shackles. They lifted him up, and drug him to a cell.
Fabricius's family was at the house sitting in front of the fire, wondering where their dad was. What could he be doing? his wife Flora wondered. Julius, his son, began to worry. She walked her son to his room to put him in bed; they said their worried prayers. "Please let daddy come home," prayed Julius. She left the room with many thoughts about her husband floating in her head. Throughout the night, she sat near the fire in hopes of hearing her lost love return. Finally, resting her head on the table, Flora slowly drifted to sleep.
Early the next morning the Roman police stormed into the house, stopping where Flora was lost in sleep. She awoke with a hectic start. Many questions tried to force their way out at the same time, but all that came out was, "Who are you? Where are we? Do you have my husband?" Then Julius woke with a loud a treacherous scream. The woman knew instantly they were taking her child. The crazed woman thought of her son and grabbed the closest vase. She made a break for her son's room, snatching some knives along the way. She spotted a guard in the doorway facing the child. With rage filling her swing, she plunged the knife into the back of guards neck, sending him straight towards the ground. Entering the room, Flora smashed the vase over the guards head who was reaching for her son. Flora was in such a state of anger and fear, she was randomly was picking up objects and hurling them at the guards' heads. Finally, the guards pried the miscellaneous items from her hands and threw her to the floor. Yelling and moaning in pain, she knew she lost. She was about to lose her son as she had lost her husband.
Once they got Flora under control, the guards informed her, "Your husband is in jail for theft."
Immediately she was questioning the guards, "How is this possible? He is an honest man. There must be some mistake?" Inside she wondered, What must he have done?
Without answering her questions, the guards told the Flora she would have to offer up food and taxes for the injuries that were inflicted upon the guards.
Flora nodded. Then she grabbed her son and coat and bolted for the door. Once free from the police, Flora sprinted towards the jail facility. She ran through the market place, bumping into citizens, breaking pots, and running into stands. She was rapidly approaching the facility. Flora sprinted at the speed of wind, dragging Julius behind her. Rounding the last corner, she sped down the final straight away. She finally rushed into the door and calmly demanded to see her husband. She was let to her husband's cell. With one quick glance she knew exactly what was going on. Her husband had chosen to be a gladiator instead of face trial.
Fabricius knew what she was thinking, and it wasn't good. Sitting in a corner of the stone cell, with shackles hanging around his wrist, he could do nothing to convince her that this was the right decision. He was sure it was the best decision, until he thought about his family. How will they ever survive without him running the bakery? As he tried to convince Flore, but she just stood by the bars in shock. And then, unexpectedly, she walked away. She walked away as if she had no more feelings towards her husband. He instantly shot himself against the bars. Fabricius stood up, shook the bars of the cell, and pleaded with his wife to forgive him. Flora stopped walking. With sudden hope and relief, her husband exhaled, but there was a long pause. Then, she carried on and thoughtfully strode out the door, shedding a light, thin stream of tears from both eyes. In a rage, Fabricius screamed and punched the wall. He immediately hit his hands together against the cell wall trying in vain to break free. Blood dripped down his arms to the ends of the lead chains. He knew his life was over. For many hours straight, all he did was pray that his wife would take him back.
After a long painful night, a guard suddenly pounced into the cell where Fabricius was lying down. In a state of shock, Fabricius realized the guard meant business, and with one sudden movement, the guard heaved him up with one arm and carried him away. The guard brought him to a horse drawn wagon. He tossed Fabricius in among many other slaves and crooks.
"What a day," said a black man beside him.
"Yes, what a day," Fabricius replied.
"My name is Accius. I am a prisoner, a slave to the Roman empire, and you?"
"I am named after my father Fabricius. I am here because I robbed an old man for money. After that, I ran away from the police. I led them through town. After a while, though, they caught me and threw me to the ground. I was put in jail, and here I am now."
"Harsh way to live my friend," Accius replied. Nothing was spoken for a long while on their way to the dreaded Colosseum.
Fabricius nodded off and then awoke with a sudden halt of the horse-drawn wagon. Fabricius took a glance at the new environment. There was so much going on that his brain could not comprehend most of it. When his gaze returned to the cart, he realized that Accius was being taken away by guards. Fabricius' instinct was to run after him and assist, but he knew he would be in far more danger then he was now. When his attention was focused on Accius, a guard crept up behind him and threw a chain around Fabricius' neck. After a struggle to break free, Fabricius grew very weak, and within seconds, he was out cold, limp and lifeless.
Fabricius regained consciousness with a start. He was in a room that was cold, dark, and covered in dry dirt. The room resembled the cell that he had been in recently. However, there were no bars or locks. He was wondering how long it had been since he was put in the room. What time is it? What day is it? Then he remembered Accius and his attack. Where is Accuis now? he wondered. Fabricius tried to get up, but noticed it was hard to breathe. He unsteadily reached his arms up to his neck, and felt deep indents in his neck. A shock of remembrance ran through his head, and now his head was filled with a lot of different thoughts. Memories flooded his mind; he had been choked. Despite the pain, he knew had to try to find Accius. He had to help him.
He stood up with a grunt, and it wasn't too long before he was surprised again. Almost instantly, he felt pressure in his stomach. Curious, he lifted up his shirt and found deep red marks resembling the ones on his neck. Fabricius began to panic and hyperventilate. This made him cough violently, and within seconds he was choking on his own blood. With blood dripping from his mouth, he moaned in agony. Cough after cough came, and he was choking up more and more blood. For a split second, Fabricius thought he was dying. He couldn't tell how much blood he had lost. Over a period of time, his vision started to blur. Before he knew it he was laying on the ground again. Out cold.
Fabricius woke to the sound of a beating outside his room. He heard a familiar voice; it was Accius. His friend was getting a licking and it seemed that he couldn't do anything about it. While listening to Accius scream in terror, he tried to make his way to the door that was slightly ajar. As he was moving to the door, he collapsed. He was in agony, lying on the ground, but he knew he had to help Accius. Fabricius got up, adrenaline racing through his body. He slipped through the door, but he was too late. There was Accius lying on the floor of his room, across the hall from Fabricius. He was covered in blood. It was hard to imagine that his friend had been beaten so closely to him. Am I next? he wondered. He crouched down and put his ear to Accius's chest, listening for a heart beat or his breathing. Accius spoke in a quiet, rough voice, "Help me, please."
Immediately, Fabricius dragged him into his room and shut the door. Fabricius vowed to protect Accius through times helplessness and despair. Everything was silent but the crying of Fabricius. Accius leaned toward Fabricius and said, "you are a good friend. If you carry on throughout your life like this you will succeed." Accius' head grew limp and gently rolled back. He was asleep but his eyes were still opened. Fabricius knew his friend had passed away.
~By Brady
Fabricius's family was at the house sitting in front of the fire, wondering where their dad was. What could he be doing? his wife Flora wondered. Julius, his son, began to worry. She walked her son to his room to put him in bed; they said their worried prayers. "Please let daddy come home," prayed Julius. She left the room with many thoughts about her husband floating in her head. Throughout the night, she sat near the fire in hopes of hearing her lost love return. Finally, resting her head on the table, Flora slowly drifted to sleep.
Early the next morning the Roman police stormed into the house, stopping where Flora was lost in sleep. She awoke with a hectic start. Many questions tried to force their way out at the same time, but all that came out was, "Who are you? Where are we? Do you have my husband?" Then Julius woke with a loud a treacherous scream. The woman knew instantly they were taking her child. The crazed woman thought of her son and grabbed the closest vase. She made a break for her son's room, snatching some knives along the way. She spotted a guard in the doorway facing the child. With rage filling her swing, she plunged the knife into the back of guards neck, sending him straight towards the ground. Entering the room, Flora smashed the vase over the guards head who was reaching for her son. Flora was in such a state of anger and fear, she was randomly was picking up objects and hurling them at the guards' heads. Finally, the guards pried the miscellaneous items from her hands and threw her to the floor. Yelling and moaning in pain, she knew she lost. She was about to lose her son as she had lost her husband.
Once they got Flora under control, the guards informed her, "Your husband is in jail for theft."
Immediately she was questioning the guards, "How is this possible? He is an honest man. There must be some mistake?" Inside she wondered, What must he have done?
Without answering her questions, the guards told the Flora she would have to offer up food and taxes for the injuries that were inflicted upon the guards.
Flora nodded. Then she grabbed her son and coat and bolted for the door. Once free from the police, Flora sprinted towards the jail facility. She ran through the market place, bumping into citizens, breaking pots, and running into stands. She was rapidly approaching the facility. Flora sprinted at the speed of wind, dragging Julius behind her. Rounding the last corner, she sped down the final straight away. She finally rushed into the door and calmly demanded to see her husband. She was let to her husband's cell. With one quick glance she knew exactly what was going on. Her husband had chosen to be a gladiator instead of face trial.
Fabricius knew what she was thinking, and it wasn't good. Sitting in a corner of the stone cell, with shackles hanging around his wrist, he could do nothing to convince her that this was the right decision. He was sure it was the best decision, until he thought about his family. How will they ever survive without him running the bakery? As he tried to convince Flore, but she just stood by the bars in shock. And then, unexpectedly, she walked away. She walked away as if she had no more feelings towards her husband. He instantly shot himself against the bars. Fabricius stood up, shook the bars of the cell, and pleaded with his wife to forgive him. Flora stopped walking. With sudden hope and relief, her husband exhaled, but there was a long pause. Then, she carried on and thoughtfully strode out the door, shedding a light, thin stream of tears from both eyes. In a rage, Fabricius screamed and punched the wall. He immediately hit his hands together against the cell wall trying in vain to break free. Blood dripped down his arms to the ends of the lead chains. He knew his life was over. For many hours straight, all he did was pray that his wife would take him back.
After a long painful night, a guard suddenly pounced into the cell where Fabricius was lying down. In a state of shock, Fabricius realized the guard meant business, and with one sudden movement, the guard heaved him up with one arm and carried him away. The guard brought him to a horse drawn wagon. He tossed Fabricius in among many other slaves and crooks.
"What a day," said a black man beside him.
"Yes, what a day," Fabricius replied.
"My name is Accius. I am a prisoner, a slave to the Roman empire, and you?"
"I am named after my father Fabricius. I am here because I robbed an old man for money. After that, I ran away from the police. I led them through town. After a while, though, they caught me and threw me to the ground. I was put in jail, and here I am now."
"Harsh way to live my friend," Accius replied. Nothing was spoken for a long while on their way to the dreaded Colosseum.
Fabricius nodded off and then awoke with a sudden halt of the horse-drawn wagon. Fabricius took a glance at the new environment. There was so much going on that his brain could not comprehend most of it. When his gaze returned to the cart, he realized that Accius was being taken away by guards. Fabricius' instinct was to run after him and assist, but he knew he would be in far more danger then he was now. When his attention was focused on Accius, a guard crept up behind him and threw a chain around Fabricius' neck. After a struggle to break free, Fabricius grew very weak, and within seconds, he was out cold, limp and lifeless.
Fabricius regained consciousness with a start. He was in a room that was cold, dark, and covered in dry dirt. The room resembled the cell that he had been in recently. However, there were no bars or locks. He was wondering how long it had been since he was put in the room. What time is it? What day is it? Then he remembered Accius and his attack. Where is Accuis now? he wondered. Fabricius tried to get up, but noticed it was hard to breathe. He unsteadily reached his arms up to his neck, and felt deep indents in his neck. A shock of remembrance ran through his head, and now his head was filled with a lot of different thoughts. Memories flooded his mind; he had been choked. Despite the pain, he knew had to try to find Accius. He had to help him.
He stood up with a grunt, and it wasn't too long before he was surprised again. Almost instantly, he felt pressure in his stomach. Curious, he lifted up his shirt and found deep red marks resembling the ones on his neck. Fabricius began to panic and hyperventilate. This made him cough violently, and within seconds he was choking on his own blood. With blood dripping from his mouth, he moaned in agony. Cough after cough came, and he was choking up more and more blood. For a split second, Fabricius thought he was dying. He couldn't tell how much blood he had lost. Over a period of time, his vision started to blur. Before he knew it he was laying on the ground again. Out cold.
Fabricius woke to the sound of a beating outside his room. He heard a familiar voice; it was Accius. His friend was getting a licking and it seemed that he couldn't do anything about it. While listening to Accius scream in terror, he tried to make his way to the door that was slightly ajar. As he was moving to the door, he collapsed. He was in agony, lying on the ground, but he knew he had to help Accius. Fabricius got up, adrenaline racing through his body. He slipped through the door, but he was too late. There was Accius lying on the floor of his room, across the hall from Fabricius. He was covered in blood. It was hard to imagine that his friend had been beaten so closely to him. Am I next? he wondered. He crouched down and put his ear to Accius's chest, listening for a heart beat or his breathing. Accius spoke in a quiet, rough voice, "Help me, please."
Immediately, Fabricius dragged him into his room and shut the door. Fabricius vowed to protect Accius through times helplessness and despair. Everything was silent but the crying of Fabricius. Accius leaned toward Fabricius and said, "you are a good friend. If you carry on throughout your life like this you will succeed." Accius' head grew limp and gently rolled back. He was asleep but his eyes were still opened. Fabricius knew his friend had passed away.
~By Brady
Olympic Dreams ~ by Melissa
My Plan:
Throughout my life, I've been very observant. I watch and I learn from the people I look up to. My life plan was simple let them figure it out and I would copy. This created a habit that I called "Note to Self," which meant that I recorded important information that I might use later.
My Dream:
Get ready! Get set! Go! The shot went off in my head. I ran, ran, ran until I was flying; I was free; I was invincible. The hot Greek summer sun snaked around my body. The hard earth underneath my feet was trailing along with me on my race. This is the best time of my life. I have been on this earth for 13 and a half years now, and I have been to the Olympic games for as long as I remember. It is the very beginning of the second century A.D., and I am free as a bird. That day will be a special day.
Olympics, 200 AD:
"Runners, on your mark!" I made it. "Get set!" Here it comes. "GO!" I can't believe I'm at the Olympic games, I thought to myself, preparing for a great event.
Five athletes, one winner and four losers, sprinted away from the line. In the lead was the most famous athlete. He had won most of the competitions during the last week. He thought he was a big shot and flexed his muscles for the women. He was so big and muscular, and just by the look on his face, you could tell that he only cared about himself. In second place was the other hot shot. He had won first place in one of the games and second, third and fourth in the other games. He was a clear contender for this race. In third place was the guy who really, really wanted to win. He had a very concentrated expression on his face. He was shorter than the others but just as strong.
As I watched the race, I saw different expressions. Some were on the prize, while others were filled with determination. Some were actually angry. I watched as they started the race. Some flew out of the starting blocks, while others took it nice and easy. Only few kept a pace, others thought that by going faster and faster they would make it. Should they really make it after starting fast and ending slow? Or just the opposite. Everyone started slowing down, one by one. The person who started out in last place, was now in the lead by what I guessed was two feet. One by one their expressions changed from wanting to win, to the expression of a mother lion preotecting her baby. The lead runner was almost to cross the finish line; he was so close... then, the runner in fifth place threw his boney yet muscular arms out to the side and went past the other runners to reach the finish line first. The crowd went wild. Who would have guessed that he would have won the race? The person no one suspected would win, won.
Note to self: start out slow then speed up to reach victory.
"Venus!" I knew that voice, that voice that I had heard my whole life.
"Father!" I ran to him. My father was the Olympic Game coordinator so he got to put the games and activities together.
Note to Self: You never have to, you always get to.
"Venus, did you enjoy the race? " father asked.
"I loved it! I would never have guessed that Leonidas would be the winner of the race -"
I was interrupted by my Father's best friend and working partner, Uncle Jonathan. He had black, sleek looking hair and was tall and strong.
"Robert, so glad to see you! Oh, hello, Venus." Uncle Jonathan patted me on the head and turned his attention back to Father. " We need you down by the finish line to congratulate Leonidas. We need you right now!" He looked at me, "Wasn't that race exciting? I knew that kid would win. That's a great strategy!"
Father turned to me with an expression that said, Sorry honey. I'll catch you at dinner. I love you. I knew that he was a very busy man. Sometimes he was forced to go and do his job when he would much rather be spending time with his family. Uncle Jonathan was always, and I mean always, busy. He was only free on weekends when the family had picnics. We all knew the games and embraced the Greek sun, and the Emperor wanted them to be good.
I started to look around for anyone I knew, but the crowd was so thick it was like looking for a piece of straw in a hay stack. I walked around a corner to see what else was going on. That was when I I saw all of the contestants who had been beated. Their good sportsmanship had all but disappeared as they kicked at the dirt, complained, and threw their things around.
Note to self: Everyone who loses in an event of any kind will be very mad. You can tell what people are like if they throw a huge fit in public or if they wait to be alone. Good Sportsmanship is an important trait.
To the crowd and their families, the "losers" were saying it wasn't a big deal and there was always next year. If their eyes hadn't been filled with anger and defeat, I would have believed them. But alone, they seemed to be mourning their missed shot at victory.
"Venus!" I was startled. Who could be calling my name? How could they even find me? I turned in all directions and then finally saw a familiar skinny, muscular, tall body. It was my best friend Zues. Our parents had known each other even before we were born. We were next door neighbors, so we got to spend a lot of time together. Zuess was older and taller, but not faster than me. We always competed with each other in running races, and I always won. He came closer and stood directly in front of me. "Where were you? One second you say we can sit together, and the next thing I know you are running almost as fast as the racers." I blushed and turned pure red. Could he see that? I thought I was only running in my dreams.
"Oh, you saw that?" I blushed even more. "Did you enjoy the race?" I wanted to change the subject fast.
"It was awesome! It would have been a lot more awesome if you were with us. I was amazed when Leonidas won!"
"Same here," I knew that everyone would be saying that for a while, a shock it was to everyone.
"What a strategy! Oh, I saw your 'Uncle'," Zuess used air quotations. He knows pretty much everything about me - even how I think about my uncle. "He looked very buisy. He said hi to me though. He stopped me, looked me in the eyes and said that someday I could be the winner."
Note to Self: Winners always need someone to believe in them first.
"Oh please, I could outrun you in a heartbea!." I didn't mean to brag, but it was the truth. I hoped that he wasn't hurt.
"Well, bring it on! I can beat you to the VIP arena."
" Oh, you're so on!" We started to run. We ran, ran, ran, ran, and ran....
We spent the next four years running. It was 4 years since the last Olympic games, since I ran with the racers. It had been four years of practicing my come from behind strategy. Four years since my dream. And during those four years, my dream of becoming an Olympic athlete has become so large it is like a sponge absorbing every ounce of water.
I have become taller; I have grown more in every way. What has grown the most is my passion for racing and my love for running. Olympia, Greece was still hot, sunny and welcoming. I wouldn't wait for the Olympics; they were two weeks away. I walked into the sun room and sat down on the long sun chair. Shall I read something about love, sports, or.... I couldn't help myself but I driffted into a daydream.
I was running and living an even more lovely life than I have. I seemed to be running toward a big house. Is that my house, I wondered. I am a star runner, and there is a man. He looks like a boy, but he looks handsome. No, he is more of a man. Who is this? Is he my husband? Suddenly in my heart I know that it is. He was about to turn around...and I am about to see his face.....
A faint voice suddenly got louder and louder, interrupting the moment. Then, I noticed it was my mother, breaking me free of my dream. Disappointed I opened my eyes.
Note to Self: Run faster in my dreams!
" Venus. There you are. Dinner needs to be prepared." My mother has always been beautiful. She was nearly 38 years old and still elegant.
" Okay, mother. I'll be there in a second." I tried to imagine his face but I couldn't get it back into my head. Frustrated, I got up to help with dinner.
Later that night, Zuess and I raced through the fields. "How can you do that?" Zuess was tring to catch up to me. He was very shocked just like every race when I beat him.
"I just have skill!" We were walking on the mountain by our favorite childhood hiding place that over looked the Medeterrianean Sea. It was nice and warm. This was the place where we could talk without anyone hearing. This was the place we shared our dreams.
There was an evening breeze, and I was wrapped up in a blanket, my long, brown, wavey hair blowing in every direction with the breeze. In sync, we slivered up the tall oak tree, like snakes slithering up a human body. I sat down on a branch that over ooked the ocean and inhaled the sweet salty sent of the summer sea. I didn't want to break this silence, yet I wanted to connect.
I was about to speak, but he beat me to it and his voice was so soft, deeper and more mature than last year. "So, how have you been Venus?" It surprised me as he rarely said my name. I noticed that I was feeling fidgeting, strange.
Note to Self: Sometimes things change with boys, the older they get the more they want to be mature.
"Good, I have been learning how to do housework, knitting, pot making, time keeping and some more running." I decided not to tell him about my dream. "What about you?"
"Um," he stuttered. I knew Zuess had something to tell me, something that I wasn't going to want to hear. "I have been fantastic actually. I have been learning how to hunt and build." His face was becoming sad. His smile faded and his face was turning depressed. I was nervous and my heart became a train, going faster and faster each beat. "I haven't wanted to tell you this, but...I don't want to lie to you anymore. For the past year, I have been training for the olympics. Under the running category. Your father and your uncle think I am going to be great this year. "
My heart shattered into microscopic pieces. I had to be brave, but I was too stunned, too jealous, too angry. I could not keep it together, especially in front of my best friend. I took a breath that seemed to come from the bottom of the ocean. "Wow. I am, proud of you," I couldn't find the right words to say. "That's amazing. You really deserve it. You have become an outstanding runner." I looked at the sky. It was as if the gods heard me and the sky turned gray.
"You know I owe it all to you. Without our races..."
"You really deserve it," I said again. My voice betrayed me. I was about to cry and we both knew it.
"You should be getting home. Me, too. I have to train tomorrow." Zuess was acting like a brave man but before he could get something over to me to protect me from my pain, I started to run. It was a sudden jog, and Zuess caught up to me quickly. He even ran a little further than I did, but as the lighting struck I ran faster than he did. I made it to my yard and took a moment to cool down, I felt the light rain become heavy rain and the rain soaked me. I watched as he ran toward me, something familiar stirring in my stomach.
"I like your style. You are a better runner. I still have a lot to learn from you." Zuess was humble as he ran off toward his house.
I climbed up the vines to the top floor where my bedroom was. I climbed in and immediatley went to my bathroom. I took of my clothes and wrapped a warm cream-colored towel around my skinny body and my developed chest. It was so warm and so comforting. It wasn't until I got to my dresser to put on my pajamas that I realized that my best friend, the boy across the street, the boy who I grew up with, the boy who is slower than me was now living my dream. He would be in the summer olympics in just two weeks. My anger began to boil. My hands were shaking and tears were sliding down my face. He was going to run in the Olympics, and I wouldn't be. I couldn't. My dream was not even a reality. But why? Why couldn't I?
NOTE TO SELF: Don't let others create your reality.
I turned for the door and jumped down the stairs very confidently, sliding down the silky wood rail. Mother and Father were in the kitchen, and I was ready to ask them - demand to know - why girls couldn't run in the olympics.
" Good evening Venus," Mother spoke with a soft lullaby tone to her voice. Her voice took me into a sleep trance, as if I were a baby. After the sudden silence, I came back to earth and was determind to get some answers.
" Good evening Mother and Father. I want to run in the Olympics?" I meant for it to be a demand, but I was unsure about my words and it came out as a question.
They looked at each other like there was something that they have never told me, and there was. Father answered, "I've always loved your passion about the Olympics. But, you know the Olympics are very important to MEN. The running and sports help us to determine who is the strongest and bravest, " To me, it seemed like he was going on and on.
The only response I could think of without making this longer than it should be is, "Yes."
"Do you ever see any women in the stands during in the olympics?" Mother was calm, but not as calm as it was before.
I still didn't want to make this drag on so I just said what I knew, "No." We were silent but I bet my face was turning blank.
"Well, it is against the rules of the Olympic Games for women to be watching the olympic games if they are married," Dad reminded me of this rule. I was nearing the time when I would no longer be able to even watch the games. "If woman cannot even watch the games, you know that it is against the rules for women to race in the olympic games."
My heart shattered for the second time that day. We stood still for what seemed like forever when I finally gave up and tears started filling my eyes and weakly I spoke.
" Never?" I couldn't help but starting to cry.
"Never." My mother and father spoke in union.
Not only had my best friend been chosen to race in the Olympic games, stealing away my dream. My parents had finally shattered it. I would never be in the Olympic games. I ran upstairs and into my room. I closed the door behind me trying to make it as silent as possible, but I was sure Mother and Father heard it. I leaped to my bed and started to cry. I began to sob. It was like having my baby being taken from me by someone I loved only to slaughtered it. A puddle was forming on my pillow, but I didn't care. All I wanted was to run. I cried until I fell into a fitful sleep.
I had a dream that night that I was racing in the Olympics without a care in the world. And when I woke up the next day, I knew that was my mission.
NOTE TO SELF: It's good to have a mission.
"Venus, could you please go get some fresh water from the well?" Mother was washing the floors.
"Of course, mother. " I grabbed the bucket and left. I was now on my mission to the garden. Father, Uncle Jonathan, and a few of their emplyee's were in the garden talking about the Olympics, which were one week away. I lingered along into the garden and went to the well, slowly attached the bucket to the string, and lowered the carrier into the water.
"The celebration meal will be held at the stadium, but who will be the cook?" I couldn't help but overhearing what they were saying. (I hadn't planned on listening to their conversation, so you can't call it eavesdropping!)
"In the market there is the best restaurant. They have cooked for us before and they are amazing! It's just by the south fruit place and they are true Greek cooks." Father had showed me that restaurant before, and they were amazing chefs. Two summers ago, Zuess and I would saved up our money and buy a frozen treat to quench our need of a cold treat. Feeling nervous about listening, I swiftly moved back into the house and handed mother the bucket, then I grabbed a tray of sandwiches for the men. This was my time to complete my task. I moved like a dancer through the garden, waving all of the bugs away so they wouldn't attack the penutbutter and honey sandwiches. I finally reached the table and gently put the tray down.
"Thank you Venus." Father cheered. I could tell that they were all very hungary after all of that work. I smiled then waited because they would have to make small talk with me if I was just standing there.
"So how is your summer treating you Venus?" Uncle Jonathan looked eager to get back to work, but he was being polite.
"Great," I needed to get to the chase fast. This was my only time. " So, how are the preperation coming?"
"Okay, we are having some difficulties but that is just how work is." Father loved taking time to talk to me. I loved that about him. They started turning around from me to get back to work, then that was the time I had to say it.
"Are there any surprise racers in these Olympics games?" I know it sounded to eager, but they really don't know my plan so I was safe, or at least I thought I was.
"Not yet, but there are always surprised at the starting line!" Father looked at me strangely and then returned to his work.
"Zuess is coming along! I predict he will have a fine showing in his first Olympic games," Uncle Jonathan looked very different then he had any other time I had seen him. He seemed excited, proud. It was like he had discovered Zuess himself.
"I just wish women were allowed into the Olympics," I said as I turned to walk away, "then there would a race!" I smiled as I left them speechless.
" Women in the Olympics?" one of the other men asked.
They were silent for a while then Uncle Jonathan decided to speak. "Women in the Olympics?! That is the most uneducated thing I have ever heard anyone say. Women can't run! They can't race!"
I froze. Anger was growing.
"No women should ever even think about that. Women just need to stay home and cook, clean and stay silent. I don't even like how women are getting an education. It is quite annoying for men who need to go to collage, women are just stealing everything," he continued.
I was still in shock. Who would say that? Was this the person I have always known? Or had he been wearing a mask for all of those years? Furious, I stormed away.
"You've got that right," one of the men said. Father spoke up finally, changing the subject and getting people focused on their work again. I could tell he felt badly for me, but he didn't know my plan. I was now on another mission. I was determind to show him and the other men at that table who would an Olympic winner. The Olympics were two weeks away, and I had a lot of training to do.
Olympics, 204 AD:
Get ready! Get set! Go! The shot went off in my head. I ran, ran, ran until I was flying; I was free; I was invincible. The hot Greek summer sun snaked around my body. The hard earth underneath my feet was trailing along with me on my race. This is the best time of my life. I have been on this earth for 13 and a half years now, and I have been to the Olympic games for as long as I remember. I am free as a bird. That day will be a special day.
I walked out of the athletes room ready to prove Greece wrong. I was for sure though that they would recognize me by my face and body structure, but I guess I didn't fool anyone. I walked out with four other men, including Zuess. The men and Zuess wore a diper type bottom and that was it. I on the other hand wore a type of man dress. I had wrapped my chest with cloth so that I didn't blow my cover. I wrapped my hair up and put it in a hat. I really looked like a man. I even dirtied my self up a little bit.
"Contestants, to the starting line." Almost there. " Get ready," I was ready. " Get set," I was surely set. " GO!" Everyone dashed from the line except for me and Zuess. Has he been watching me everytime we raced? Of course he did, he was fasinated by my skill level. I was the last one and I was following everyone else. It looked like I needed to catch up big time, but I knew it could get in front. Faster and faster everybody went except for Zuess and I. I really wanted him to win, but I was the one in this race. The first three started to slow down, now it was me against Zuess. I started going faster picking up all of that energy. I knew he could sence me and sped up, but before he knew it I was in front of him. He looked stunned but I wasn't suprised. He tried to keep up, but he was too slow for me. The finish line was three feet away. I spread my arms out and I split through the ribbon. The crowd was shocked and yet they went wild. I could hear the others behind me and they finished the reace two. In the backround I could hear Jonathan kicking and screaming. He thought that Zuess would win, and I bet he had bet a lot of money on him. It was the perfect timing to show who had really won. Gently getting everyones attention, I faced my face to the sun light and un vailed my hat and my long brown hair drapped around my manly looking body. Everyone who was watching, even the animals, dirt, rocks, and other contestants gasped so loud that the loudness could cause and earthquake.
" Disquallified!" Jonathan rushed over to us. I had a seriouse look on my face because I knew I could out wit him. I could even see my father in the corner of my eye standing there frozen.
" I am not!" I was wanting to make a statement with this.
" Yes you are! Women are just silent creatures that should never, ever particapate in a sporting event! They shouldn't even be allowed to get an education!" The crowed gasped again. I wasn't supprised at all though. In his eyes, you could tell he wanted to take back those words.
"You know what Jonathan," I had thought about this moment my whole life. I have even dreamed about doing this, and I knew that the gods were on my side.
Note to self: When you know something will happen, think about what you will say so you are prepared to win a battle with words.
"Women have every right in the world to do what ever they want." I knew that this would throw him off and it did. He was silent then moved away. How could an adult man be afraid of a fourteen year old girl? I felt I had power. The crowd started cheering again and I felt fantastic, and I had forgotton that Zuess was watching all of this time. I turned to him then he took two steps to me then pulled me to him and gave me a kiss. My first kiss from my best friend, which was know my love.
"You are amazing," He towered me, but I felt comfort. "I tried to do what you do, but you always do it best." We hugged and just stood there while the crowd went even more nuts.
"Today, I got to live my dream, and I have always wanted to share it with my best friend." I gave him another kiss and at that moment I had begun the rest of my life.
Note to self: Everyone can dream, but the ones who follow them are the ones with the power.
Throughout my life, I've been very observant. I watch and I learn from the people I look up to. My life plan was simple let them figure it out and I would copy. This created a habit that I called "Note to Self," which meant that I recorded important information that I might use later.
My Dream:
Get ready! Get set! Go! The shot went off in my head. I ran, ran, ran until I was flying; I was free; I was invincible. The hot Greek summer sun snaked around my body. The hard earth underneath my feet was trailing along with me on my race. This is the best time of my life. I have been on this earth for 13 and a half years now, and I have been to the Olympic games for as long as I remember. It is the very beginning of the second century A.D., and I am free as a bird. That day will be a special day.
Olympics, 200 AD:
"Runners, on your mark!" I made it. "Get set!" Here it comes. "GO!" I can't believe I'm at the Olympic games, I thought to myself, preparing for a great event.
Five athletes, one winner and four losers, sprinted away from the line. In the lead was the most famous athlete. He had won most of the competitions during the last week. He thought he was a big shot and flexed his muscles for the women. He was so big and muscular, and just by the look on his face, you could tell that he only cared about himself. In second place was the other hot shot. He had won first place in one of the games and second, third and fourth in the other games. He was a clear contender for this race. In third place was the guy who really, really wanted to win. He had a very concentrated expression on his face. He was shorter than the others but just as strong.
As I watched the race, I saw different expressions. Some were on the prize, while others were filled with determination. Some were actually angry. I watched as they started the race. Some flew out of the starting blocks, while others took it nice and easy. Only few kept a pace, others thought that by going faster and faster they would make it. Should they really make it after starting fast and ending slow? Or just the opposite. Everyone started slowing down, one by one. The person who started out in last place, was now in the lead by what I guessed was two feet. One by one their expressions changed from wanting to win, to the expression of a mother lion preotecting her baby. The lead runner was almost to cross the finish line; he was so close... then, the runner in fifth place threw his boney yet muscular arms out to the side and went past the other runners to reach the finish line first. The crowd went wild. Who would have guessed that he would have won the race? The person no one suspected would win, won.
Note to self: start out slow then speed up to reach victory.
"Venus!" I knew that voice, that voice that I had heard my whole life.
"Father!" I ran to him. My father was the Olympic Game coordinator so he got to put the games and activities together.
Note to Self: You never have to, you always get to.
"Venus, did you enjoy the race? " father asked.
"I loved it! I would never have guessed that Leonidas would be the winner of the race -"
I was interrupted by my Father's best friend and working partner, Uncle Jonathan. He had black, sleek looking hair and was tall and strong.
"Robert, so glad to see you! Oh, hello, Venus." Uncle Jonathan patted me on the head and turned his attention back to Father. " We need you down by the finish line to congratulate Leonidas. We need you right now!" He looked at me, "Wasn't that race exciting? I knew that kid would win. That's a great strategy!"
Father turned to me with an expression that said, Sorry honey. I'll catch you at dinner. I love you. I knew that he was a very busy man. Sometimes he was forced to go and do his job when he would much rather be spending time with his family. Uncle Jonathan was always, and I mean always, busy. He was only free on weekends when the family had picnics. We all knew the games and embraced the Greek sun, and the Emperor wanted them to be good.
I started to look around for anyone I knew, but the crowd was so thick it was like looking for a piece of straw in a hay stack. I walked around a corner to see what else was going on. That was when I I saw all of the contestants who had been beated. Their good sportsmanship had all but disappeared as they kicked at the dirt, complained, and threw their things around.
Note to self: Everyone who loses in an event of any kind will be very mad. You can tell what people are like if they throw a huge fit in public or if they wait to be alone. Good Sportsmanship is an important trait.
To the crowd and their families, the "losers" were saying it wasn't a big deal and there was always next year. If their eyes hadn't been filled with anger and defeat, I would have believed them. But alone, they seemed to be mourning their missed shot at victory.
"Venus!" I was startled. Who could be calling my name? How could they even find me? I turned in all directions and then finally saw a familiar skinny, muscular, tall body. It was my best friend Zues. Our parents had known each other even before we were born. We were next door neighbors, so we got to spend a lot of time together. Zuess was older and taller, but not faster than me. We always competed with each other in running races, and I always won. He came closer and stood directly in front of me. "Where were you? One second you say we can sit together, and the next thing I know you are running almost as fast as the racers." I blushed and turned pure red. Could he see that? I thought I was only running in my dreams.
"Oh, you saw that?" I blushed even more. "Did you enjoy the race?" I wanted to change the subject fast.
"It was awesome! It would have been a lot more awesome if you were with us. I was amazed when Leonidas won!"
"Same here," I knew that everyone would be saying that for a while, a shock it was to everyone.
"What a strategy! Oh, I saw your 'Uncle'," Zuess used air quotations. He knows pretty much everything about me - even how I think about my uncle. "He looked very buisy. He said hi to me though. He stopped me, looked me in the eyes and said that someday I could be the winner."
Note to Self: Winners always need someone to believe in them first.
"Oh please, I could outrun you in a heartbea!." I didn't mean to brag, but it was the truth. I hoped that he wasn't hurt.
"Well, bring it on! I can beat you to the VIP arena."
" Oh, you're so on!" We started to run. We ran, ran, ran, ran, and ran....
We spent the next four years running. It was 4 years since the last Olympic games, since I ran with the racers. It had been four years of practicing my come from behind strategy. Four years since my dream. And during those four years, my dream of becoming an Olympic athlete has become so large it is like a sponge absorbing every ounce of water.
I have become taller; I have grown more in every way. What has grown the most is my passion for racing and my love for running. Olympia, Greece was still hot, sunny and welcoming. I wouldn't wait for the Olympics; they were two weeks away. I walked into the sun room and sat down on the long sun chair. Shall I read something about love, sports, or.... I couldn't help myself but I driffted into a daydream.
I was running and living an even more lovely life than I have. I seemed to be running toward a big house. Is that my house, I wondered. I am a star runner, and there is a man. He looks like a boy, but he looks handsome. No, he is more of a man. Who is this? Is he my husband? Suddenly in my heart I know that it is. He was about to turn around...and I am about to see his face.....
A faint voice suddenly got louder and louder, interrupting the moment. Then, I noticed it was my mother, breaking me free of my dream. Disappointed I opened my eyes.
Note to Self: Run faster in my dreams!
" Venus. There you are. Dinner needs to be prepared." My mother has always been beautiful. She was nearly 38 years old and still elegant.
" Okay, mother. I'll be there in a second." I tried to imagine his face but I couldn't get it back into my head. Frustrated, I got up to help with dinner.
Later that night, Zuess and I raced through the fields. "How can you do that?" Zuess was tring to catch up to me. He was very shocked just like every race when I beat him.
"I just have skill!" We were walking on the mountain by our favorite childhood hiding place that over looked the Medeterrianean Sea. It was nice and warm. This was the place where we could talk without anyone hearing. This was the place we shared our dreams.
There was an evening breeze, and I was wrapped up in a blanket, my long, brown, wavey hair blowing in every direction with the breeze. In sync, we slivered up the tall oak tree, like snakes slithering up a human body. I sat down on a branch that over ooked the ocean and inhaled the sweet salty sent of the summer sea. I didn't want to break this silence, yet I wanted to connect.
I was about to speak, but he beat me to it and his voice was so soft, deeper and more mature than last year. "So, how have you been Venus?" It surprised me as he rarely said my name. I noticed that I was feeling fidgeting, strange.
Note to Self: Sometimes things change with boys, the older they get the more they want to be mature.
"Good, I have been learning how to do housework, knitting, pot making, time keeping and some more running." I decided not to tell him about my dream. "What about you?"
"Um," he stuttered. I knew Zuess had something to tell me, something that I wasn't going to want to hear. "I have been fantastic actually. I have been learning how to hunt and build." His face was becoming sad. His smile faded and his face was turning depressed. I was nervous and my heart became a train, going faster and faster each beat. "I haven't wanted to tell you this, but...I don't want to lie to you anymore. For the past year, I have been training for the olympics. Under the running category. Your father and your uncle think I am going to be great this year. "
My heart shattered into microscopic pieces. I had to be brave, but I was too stunned, too jealous, too angry. I could not keep it together, especially in front of my best friend. I took a breath that seemed to come from the bottom of the ocean. "Wow. I am, proud of you," I couldn't find the right words to say. "That's amazing. You really deserve it. You have become an outstanding runner." I looked at the sky. It was as if the gods heard me and the sky turned gray.
"You know I owe it all to you. Without our races..."
"You really deserve it," I said again. My voice betrayed me. I was about to cry and we both knew it.
"You should be getting home. Me, too. I have to train tomorrow." Zuess was acting like a brave man but before he could get something over to me to protect me from my pain, I started to run. It was a sudden jog, and Zuess caught up to me quickly. He even ran a little further than I did, but as the lighting struck I ran faster than he did. I made it to my yard and took a moment to cool down, I felt the light rain become heavy rain and the rain soaked me. I watched as he ran toward me, something familiar stirring in my stomach.
"I like your style. You are a better runner. I still have a lot to learn from you." Zuess was humble as he ran off toward his house.
I climbed up the vines to the top floor where my bedroom was. I climbed in and immediatley went to my bathroom. I took of my clothes and wrapped a warm cream-colored towel around my skinny body and my developed chest. It was so warm and so comforting. It wasn't until I got to my dresser to put on my pajamas that I realized that my best friend, the boy across the street, the boy who I grew up with, the boy who is slower than me was now living my dream. He would be in the summer olympics in just two weeks. My anger began to boil. My hands were shaking and tears were sliding down my face. He was going to run in the Olympics, and I wouldn't be. I couldn't. My dream was not even a reality. But why? Why couldn't I?
NOTE TO SELF: Don't let others create your reality.
I turned for the door and jumped down the stairs very confidently, sliding down the silky wood rail. Mother and Father were in the kitchen, and I was ready to ask them - demand to know - why girls couldn't run in the olympics.
" Good evening Venus," Mother spoke with a soft lullaby tone to her voice. Her voice took me into a sleep trance, as if I were a baby. After the sudden silence, I came back to earth and was determind to get some answers.
" Good evening Mother and Father. I want to run in the Olympics?" I meant for it to be a demand, but I was unsure about my words and it came out as a question.
They looked at each other like there was something that they have never told me, and there was. Father answered, "I've always loved your passion about the Olympics. But, you know the Olympics are very important to MEN. The running and sports help us to determine who is the strongest and bravest, " To me, it seemed like he was going on and on.
The only response I could think of without making this longer than it should be is, "Yes."
"Do you ever see any women in the stands during in the olympics?" Mother was calm, but not as calm as it was before.
I still didn't want to make this drag on so I just said what I knew, "No." We were silent but I bet my face was turning blank.
"Well, it is against the rules of the Olympic Games for women to be watching the olympic games if they are married," Dad reminded me of this rule. I was nearing the time when I would no longer be able to even watch the games. "If woman cannot even watch the games, you know that it is against the rules for women to race in the olympic games."
My heart shattered for the second time that day. We stood still for what seemed like forever when I finally gave up and tears started filling my eyes and weakly I spoke.
" Never?" I couldn't help but starting to cry.
"Never." My mother and father spoke in union.
Not only had my best friend been chosen to race in the Olympic games, stealing away my dream. My parents had finally shattered it. I would never be in the Olympic games. I ran upstairs and into my room. I closed the door behind me trying to make it as silent as possible, but I was sure Mother and Father heard it. I leaped to my bed and started to cry. I began to sob. It was like having my baby being taken from me by someone I loved only to slaughtered it. A puddle was forming on my pillow, but I didn't care. All I wanted was to run. I cried until I fell into a fitful sleep.
I had a dream that night that I was racing in the Olympics without a care in the world. And when I woke up the next day, I knew that was my mission.
NOTE TO SELF: It's good to have a mission.
"Venus, could you please go get some fresh water from the well?" Mother was washing the floors.
"Of course, mother. " I grabbed the bucket and left. I was now on my mission to the garden. Father, Uncle Jonathan, and a few of their emplyee's were in the garden talking about the Olympics, which were one week away. I lingered along into the garden and went to the well, slowly attached the bucket to the string, and lowered the carrier into the water.
"The celebration meal will be held at the stadium, but who will be the cook?" I couldn't help but overhearing what they were saying. (I hadn't planned on listening to their conversation, so you can't call it eavesdropping!)
"In the market there is the best restaurant. They have cooked for us before and they are amazing! It's just by the south fruit place and they are true Greek cooks." Father had showed me that restaurant before, and they were amazing chefs. Two summers ago, Zuess and I would saved up our money and buy a frozen treat to quench our need of a cold treat. Feeling nervous about listening, I swiftly moved back into the house and handed mother the bucket, then I grabbed a tray of sandwiches for the men. This was my time to complete my task. I moved like a dancer through the garden, waving all of the bugs away so they wouldn't attack the penutbutter and honey sandwiches. I finally reached the table and gently put the tray down.
"Thank you Venus." Father cheered. I could tell that they were all very hungary after all of that work. I smiled then waited because they would have to make small talk with me if I was just standing there.
"So how is your summer treating you Venus?" Uncle Jonathan looked eager to get back to work, but he was being polite.
"Great," I needed to get to the chase fast. This was my only time. " So, how are the preperation coming?"
"Okay, we are having some difficulties but that is just how work is." Father loved taking time to talk to me. I loved that about him. They started turning around from me to get back to work, then that was the time I had to say it.
"Are there any surprise racers in these Olympics games?" I know it sounded to eager, but they really don't know my plan so I was safe, or at least I thought I was.
"Not yet, but there are always surprised at the starting line!" Father looked at me strangely and then returned to his work.
"Zuess is coming along! I predict he will have a fine showing in his first Olympic games," Uncle Jonathan looked very different then he had any other time I had seen him. He seemed excited, proud. It was like he had discovered Zuess himself.
"I just wish women were allowed into the Olympics," I said as I turned to walk away, "then there would a race!" I smiled as I left them speechless.
" Women in the Olympics?" one of the other men asked.
They were silent for a while then Uncle Jonathan decided to speak. "Women in the Olympics?! That is the most uneducated thing I have ever heard anyone say. Women can't run! They can't race!"
I froze. Anger was growing.
"No women should ever even think about that. Women just need to stay home and cook, clean and stay silent. I don't even like how women are getting an education. It is quite annoying for men who need to go to collage, women are just stealing everything," he continued.
I was still in shock. Who would say that? Was this the person I have always known? Or had he been wearing a mask for all of those years? Furious, I stormed away.
"You've got that right," one of the men said. Father spoke up finally, changing the subject and getting people focused on their work again. I could tell he felt badly for me, but he didn't know my plan. I was now on another mission. I was determind to show him and the other men at that table who would an Olympic winner. The Olympics were two weeks away, and I had a lot of training to do.
Olympics, 204 AD:
Get ready! Get set! Go! The shot went off in my head. I ran, ran, ran until I was flying; I was free; I was invincible. The hot Greek summer sun snaked around my body. The hard earth underneath my feet was trailing along with me on my race. This is the best time of my life. I have been on this earth for 13 and a half years now, and I have been to the Olympic games for as long as I remember. I am free as a bird. That day will be a special day.
I walked out of the athletes room ready to prove Greece wrong. I was for sure though that they would recognize me by my face and body structure, but I guess I didn't fool anyone. I walked out with four other men, including Zuess. The men and Zuess wore a diper type bottom and that was it. I on the other hand wore a type of man dress. I had wrapped my chest with cloth so that I didn't blow my cover. I wrapped my hair up and put it in a hat. I really looked like a man. I even dirtied my self up a little bit.
"Contestants, to the starting line." Almost there. " Get ready," I was ready. " Get set," I was surely set. " GO!" Everyone dashed from the line except for me and Zuess. Has he been watching me everytime we raced? Of course he did, he was fasinated by my skill level. I was the last one and I was following everyone else. It looked like I needed to catch up big time, but I knew it could get in front. Faster and faster everybody went except for Zuess and I. I really wanted him to win, but I was the one in this race. The first three started to slow down, now it was me against Zuess. I started going faster picking up all of that energy. I knew he could sence me and sped up, but before he knew it I was in front of him. He looked stunned but I wasn't suprised. He tried to keep up, but he was too slow for me. The finish line was three feet away. I spread my arms out and I split through the ribbon. The crowd was shocked and yet they went wild. I could hear the others behind me and they finished the reace two. In the backround I could hear Jonathan kicking and screaming. He thought that Zuess would win, and I bet he had bet a lot of money on him. It was the perfect timing to show who had really won. Gently getting everyones attention, I faced my face to the sun light and un vailed my hat and my long brown hair drapped around my manly looking body. Everyone who was watching, even the animals, dirt, rocks, and other contestants gasped so loud that the loudness could cause and earthquake.
" Disquallified!" Jonathan rushed over to us. I had a seriouse look on my face because I knew I could out wit him. I could even see my father in the corner of my eye standing there frozen.
" I am not!" I was wanting to make a statement with this.
" Yes you are! Women are just silent creatures that should never, ever particapate in a sporting event! They shouldn't even be allowed to get an education!" The crowed gasped again. I wasn't supprised at all though. In his eyes, you could tell he wanted to take back those words.
"You know what Jonathan," I had thought about this moment my whole life. I have even dreamed about doing this, and I knew that the gods were on my side.
Note to self: When you know something will happen, think about what you will say so you are prepared to win a battle with words.
"Women have every right in the world to do what ever they want." I knew that this would throw him off and it did. He was silent then moved away. How could an adult man be afraid of a fourteen year old girl? I felt I had power. The crowd started cheering again and I felt fantastic, and I had forgotton that Zuess was watching all of this time. I turned to him then he took two steps to me then pulled me to him and gave me a kiss. My first kiss from my best friend, which was know my love.
"You are amazing," He towered me, but I felt comfort. "I tried to do what you do, but you always do it best." We hugged and just stood there while the crowd went even more nuts.
"Today, I got to live my dream, and I have always wanted to share it with my best friend." I gave him another kiss and at that moment I had begun the rest of my life.
Note to self: Everyone can dream, but the ones who follow them are the ones with the power.
9/11 ~ A Story of a Police Officer -by Sandra
It was dark outside, and the moon glowed like a bright crystal ball, just like all the stars that surrounded it. I was sitting on the living room floor with my three wonderful sisters:Yesania, Sasha, and our youngest sister Lizeth. She had dark blue eyes and a smile that would brighten any one's day if they saw her red-pink lips formed into a smile. We were all talking, and usually all at once! Yesenia told me about how her day was at school and what she had done with her friends after work.
And Sasha told me about her day at work also. We were all gathered around the living room floor. We talked about our day; even though it was a talk that wasn't that exciting, I didn't really care, all I cared about was spending time with my sisters. It was nice to hang out with them. We told each other jokes. Giggles came out of us, even when we told the same old lame jokes. We talked for at least two hours, non-stop until our tongues were numb. "Lets do this tomorrow!" Sasha said filled with enthusiasm. We all agreed with each other that the next day would just be about fun. We said this not knowing what a nightmare we were going to live through the next day.After an entire night of bonding and gossip, we all went to bed.
BEEP BEEP my alarm went off that next morning. A bright yellow sun was rising just right above the World Trade Centers. The glow of the sun looked as if the buildings were crystals of ice, shimmering in the summer morning light in New York City. Every morning I woke up and opened the curtains in the living room of my house. I admired the beauty all around me, from the buildings and the cityscape to the people. What I loved the most was to walk up to my window, open the curtains, and hear the birds singing the songs that could be heard throughout the city.
"Bye, guys," I said to my sisters the next morning. I remember the way they looked as I walked out of the house. "Have a good day at work today."
I arrived at the New York Police Department for my shift. It was 7:00a.m. The morning at the department seemed to be normal. The city was calm. Mr. Hikera,our police chief ,was giving his morning briefing. Today we would go to investigate a gas leak a couple blocks from the World Trade Towers. Shortly after we arrived we heard a plane fly overhead. The sound of the plane caught our attention since it was unusual to see a plane flying so low. I looked up suspiciously trying to spot the plane. As I was watching I saw the plane crash into the towers! My first thought was to wonder if this could be real. The screams from my fellow officers brought me back to reality. My sisters are inside, I recalled. I ran back to my police car; it was 9:00 in the morning.The red, blue and white lights flashed and my siren sounded as I sped towards the towers even though I felt as if I was going so slow that a snail had passed me. I was driving at 30 miles per hour in the first couple minutes of driving, but ounce I arrived closer to the scene, I had to slow down my speed.
There was a crowd of people running away from the buildings, trying to find a way to escape the flaming towers and the falling debris. The crowd was so big that people couldn't find a way out. I had to drive even slower, "Uuuhhh!" I screeched. I was too impatient to stay in my police car, so I jumped out and ran as fast as I could. It was hard to see. Smoke and ash covered me as I ran, faster still towards the burning buildings. People were inside the Twin Towers and needed to find a way out. I needed to help them I thought to myself.
My heart beat so fast I could hear the thumping in my head. I tried to think positive thoughts for my sisters, but an image of my sisters inside the towers covered with fire flames was haunting me. Thoughts race through my mind. Are they alive? Are they hurt? How can I get to them? I promised that if I ever saw them again, I would be sure they knew I loved them very much. I trembled as I wondered, Will I ever see them again? Will I be able to give them a hug? I knew at that moment that I would be willing to risk my own life in order to save my sisters' lives.
As I ran down the stairs, I promised that if I lived, I would always enjoy life - as if every moment was my last. What happened that terrifying day made me realize life isn't forever. As a police officer, I had already taken a vow to help people, but never could I have imagined being witness to such a horrific event. From this day forward, I vowed to make every day count. I went to work the next day with a renewed sense of purpose, thankful for what I had always taken for granted.
By ~ Sandra
And Sasha told me about her day at work also. We were all gathered around the living room floor. We talked about our day; even though it was a talk that wasn't that exciting, I didn't really care, all I cared about was spending time with my sisters. It was nice to hang out with them. We told each other jokes. Giggles came out of us, even when we told the same old lame jokes. We talked for at least two hours, non-stop until our tongues were numb. "Lets do this tomorrow!" Sasha said filled with enthusiasm. We all agreed with each other that the next day would just be about fun. We said this not knowing what a nightmare we were going to live through the next day.After an entire night of bonding and gossip, we all went to bed.
BEEP BEEP my alarm went off that next morning. A bright yellow sun was rising just right above the World Trade Centers. The glow of the sun looked as if the buildings were crystals of ice, shimmering in the summer morning light in New York City. Every morning I woke up and opened the curtains in the living room of my house. I admired the beauty all around me, from the buildings and the cityscape to the people. What I loved the most was to walk up to my window, open the curtains, and hear the birds singing the songs that could be heard throughout the city.
"Bye, guys," I said to my sisters the next morning. I remember the way they looked as I walked out of the house. "Have a good day at work today."
I arrived at the New York Police Department for my shift. It was 7:00a.m. The morning at the department seemed to be normal. The city was calm. Mr. Hikera,our police chief ,was giving his morning briefing. Today we would go to investigate a gas leak a couple blocks from the World Trade Towers. Shortly after we arrived we heard a plane fly overhead. The sound of the plane caught our attention since it was unusual to see a plane flying so low. I looked up suspiciously trying to spot the plane. As I was watching I saw the plane crash into the towers! My first thought was to wonder if this could be real. The screams from my fellow officers brought me back to reality. My sisters are inside, I recalled. I ran back to my police car; it was 9:00 in the morning.The red, blue and white lights flashed and my siren sounded as I sped towards the towers even though I felt as if I was going so slow that a snail had passed me. I was driving at 30 miles per hour in the first couple minutes of driving, but ounce I arrived closer to the scene, I had to slow down my speed.
There was a crowd of people running away from the buildings, trying to find a way to escape the flaming towers and the falling debris. The crowd was so big that people couldn't find a way out. I had to drive even slower, "Uuuhhh!" I screeched. I was too impatient to stay in my police car, so I jumped out and ran as fast as I could. It was hard to see. Smoke and ash covered me as I ran, faster still towards the burning buildings. People were inside the Twin Towers and needed to find a way out. I needed to help them I thought to myself.
My heart beat so fast I could hear the thumping in my head. I tried to think positive thoughts for my sisters, but an image of my sisters inside the towers covered with fire flames was haunting me. Thoughts race through my mind. Are they alive? Are they hurt? How can I get to them? I promised that if I ever saw them again, I would be sure they knew I loved them very much. I trembled as I wondered, Will I ever see them again? Will I be able to give them a hug? I knew at that moment that I would be willing to risk my own life in order to save my sisters' lives.
As I ran down the stairs, I promised that if I lived, I would always enjoy life - as if every moment was my last. What happened that terrifying day made me realize life isn't forever. As a police officer, I had already taken a vow to help people, but never could I have imagined being witness to such a horrific event. From this day forward, I vowed to make every day count. I went to work the next day with a renewed sense of purpose, thankful for what I had always taken for granted.
By ~ Sandra
Vietnam War ~by Jose
The Vietcong bombed a United States supplies ship in the Tonkin Gulf. South Vietnam thought that the North Vietnamese were betraying them, so Ho Chi Minh sent a group of solders to the North Vietnam along the Ho Chi Min trail. Ho Chi Min's desire was to spread Communism to all of Vietnam. This scared the United States. When Ho Chi Min's group started it was very small, but soon his group grew bigger, so the U.S. had no choice other than to send a group of solders into Vietnam. There was a question that President Johnson had in his head, If I send in soldiers how many will die in this war? Is this really our war to fight? In the end, he ignored that question and sent many solders to fight in Vietnam.
***
I'm General Black, a survivor of the Vietnam war. I wasn't always sure I would survive to tell my story.
I was scared of dying and never going home to my family. It has been a bloody war since Squad B and I stepped onto this dirty and deadly land that is Vietnam. During my 20 years career in the military, I have never been in a war like this one. I have seen many soldiers falling to the ground, covered with blood though the enemy is not in sight. I have seen others fall into booby traps only to lose their legs when they are stabbed by very dangerous weapons, sharper than any knife. I dont think you would believe me if I told you that the weapon was made of sharpened bamboo sticks. We had no idea they could be so deadly. I have seen other soldiers cut off their own legs to avoid being captured by the Vietcong. I don't know how long this war is going to last, but I'm terrified. I have to hold my emotions in if I am to survive this bloody war. I can't show my fear to my enemies because they might think that I'm a weak, easy target for them. I don't want the Viet Minh to find me. Insteaad of acting scared, I pretend I'm confident and that I love this war.
Although we have very powerful weapons, the Vietcong has the advantage. They use their knowledge of the land as a weapon. It feels that we are playing hide in seek with them because we are mostly fighting in shadowy jungles and swamps. It is hard to see. They hide down beneath the dark, foggy forest. But, the most difficult thing is we have to walk in dirty swamps where we can't see anything, not even our shoes. Wading along in the water is dangerous because there might be booby traps rigged with knives or even grenades. Sometimes they put two stakes on either side of the creek with the safety pin partially removed from the grenade. If someone hits the trip wire, it explodes. I am always worried, never calm, in Vietnam.
I want to go back home, but I cant. I'm stuck in Vietnam like an animal in a cage. I'm trapped here until the end of this war. I hope God protects me and all our troops.
6 months later:
My prayers have been answered. My squad plus some other solders from other squads like A, C, and D are being sent home. We are alive and now we were going back home to our families. We can leave this war behind and have fun with our children, neices, and nephews. As we board the helicopter, our commander speaks to us, "Enjoy the time you are not on duty. Enjoy your lives with your families, but you shouldn't forget the loses the United States has experiences. Remember the 58,200 solder who have died in Vietnam. Pray for them in their next life, in the arms of our lord, God."
As the helicopter is taking off, suddenly Vietcong bullets are flying through the air. They are still chasing us, but the helicopter is in a clearning they are not willing to enter. As we run to load into the copter, a soldier fires in the direction the bullets seem to be coming from. I run to the copter as fast as I can, I do not want to die in Vietnam, not when I am so close to getting home. As the copter takes off, I realize there are Viet Cong troops on the ground, and unfortunetly, there are a few American soldiers laying there, too. I realize some of my friends are being left in Vietnam. I know that I will not forget what happened here. May their souls rest in peace, away from this land.
Our plane finally landed in the San Diego airport. There were people waiting for us, but they weren't cheering. I was seeing people who were sad and angry. One woman held a sign that read, "Why didn't you save my dad?" I felt guilty and sad for all the soldiers who died in Vietnam. I knew that I would feel miserable forever. Soldiers returning from Vietnam were not treated like heroes. No, people spit on them and yelled at them as they tried to make it home to their families. I wonder if they would have done it if they knew how we were feeling inside.
***
Back at the White House:
"STOP THE WAR! STOP THE WAR!" This is what I hear every day from thousands of people outside the White House. Protesters come daily since they have seen the television of how many people are dying in the war. People question if we can win this war. People are angry. They aren't asking for an end to this conflict, they are demanding it. A garden of humongous posters demanding an end to the war is in the front lawn of the White House. I see more protesters. This group is holding a huge poster with both the flag of the U.S. and Vietnam and around both flags is a peace sign. Can we live in peace? Can we end this war? I wonder. The expressions on their faces tell me that they are not proud of the United States or my decision to fight in Vietnam. I know that this is affecting the solders. They come home expecting to be heroes, but instead, they are yelled at and spit upon. They are confused and they should be. They have been sent to defend our country, but they cannot take pride in what they are doing when they believe their friends and neighbors are against them. "Will the war end soon?" I asked my military leaders. "I don't want the war to take much longer. I hope the war ends very, very soon. We must win so that every soldier can return home safely to his family and enjoy the rest of his life."
The leaders of the army, navy, and marines all shake their heads. "Mr. President, we are in for a long war. The end in not in sight."
I shake my head and look out the windown. I hope God protects me and our returning soldiers from our citizens, and I hope God allows those who have fallen a chance to rest in peace in heaven.
By ~ Jose
***
I'm General Black, a survivor of the Vietnam war. I wasn't always sure I would survive to tell my story.
I was scared of dying and never going home to my family. It has been a bloody war since Squad B and I stepped onto this dirty and deadly land that is Vietnam. During my 20 years career in the military, I have never been in a war like this one. I have seen many soldiers falling to the ground, covered with blood though the enemy is not in sight. I have seen others fall into booby traps only to lose their legs when they are stabbed by very dangerous weapons, sharper than any knife. I dont think you would believe me if I told you that the weapon was made of sharpened bamboo sticks. We had no idea they could be so deadly. I have seen other soldiers cut off their own legs to avoid being captured by the Vietcong. I don't know how long this war is going to last, but I'm terrified. I have to hold my emotions in if I am to survive this bloody war. I can't show my fear to my enemies because they might think that I'm a weak, easy target for them. I don't want the Viet Minh to find me. Insteaad of acting scared, I pretend I'm confident and that I love this war.
Although we have very powerful weapons, the Vietcong has the advantage. They use their knowledge of the land as a weapon. It feels that we are playing hide in seek with them because we are mostly fighting in shadowy jungles and swamps. It is hard to see. They hide down beneath the dark, foggy forest. But, the most difficult thing is we have to walk in dirty swamps where we can't see anything, not even our shoes. Wading along in the water is dangerous because there might be booby traps rigged with knives or even grenades. Sometimes they put two stakes on either side of the creek with the safety pin partially removed from the grenade. If someone hits the trip wire, it explodes. I am always worried, never calm, in Vietnam.
I want to go back home, but I cant. I'm stuck in Vietnam like an animal in a cage. I'm trapped here until the end of this war. I hope God protects me and all our troops.
6 months later:
My prayers have been answered. My squad plus some other solders from other squads like A, C, and D are being sent home. We are alive and now we were going back home to our families. We can leave this war behind and have fun with our children, neices, and nephews. As we board the helicopter, our commander speaks to us, "Enjoy the time you are not on duty. Enjoy your lives with your families, but you shouldn't forget the loses the United States has experiences. Remember the 58,200 solder who have died in Vietnam. Pray for them in their next life, in the arms of our lord, God."
As the helicopter is taking off, suddenly Vietcong bullets are flying through the air. They are still chasing us, but the helicopter is in a clearning they are not willing to enter. As we run to load into the copter, a soldier fires in the direction the bullets seem to be coming from. I run to the copter as fast as I can, I do not want to die in Vietnam, not when I am so close to getting home. As the copter takes off, I realize there are Viet Cong troops on the ground, and unfortunetly, there are a few American soldiers laying there, too. I realize some of my friends are being left in Vietnam. I know that I will not forget what happened here. May their souls rest in peace, away from this land.
Our plane finally landed in the San Diego airport. There were people waiting for us, but they weren't cheering. I was seeing people who were sad and angry. One woman held a sign that read, "Why didn't you save my dad?" I felt guilty and sad for all the soldiers who died in Vietnam. I knew that I would feel miserable forever. Soldiers returning from Vietnam were not treated like heroes. No, people spit on them and yelled at them as they tried to make it home to their families. I wonder if they would have done it if they knew how we were feeling inside.
***
Back at the White House:
"STOP THE WAR! STOP THE WAR!" This is what I hear every day from thousands of people outside the White House. Protesters come daily since they have seen the television of how many people are dying in the war. People question if we can win this war. People are angry. They aren't asking for an end to this conflict, they are demanding it. A garden of humongous posters demanding an end to the war is in the front lawn of the White House. I see more protesters. This group is holding a huge poster with both the flag of the U.S. and Vietnam and around both flags is a peace sign. Can we live in peace? Can we end this war? I wonder. The expressions on their faces tell me that they are not proud of the United States or my decision to fight in Vietnam. I know that this is affecting the solders. They come home expecting to be heroes, but instead, they are yelled at and spit upon. They are confused and they should be. They have been sent to defend our country, but they cannot take pride in what they are doing when they believe their friends and neighbors are against them. "Will the war end soon?" I asked my military leaders. "I don't want the war to take much longer. I hope the war ends very, very soon. We must win so that every soldier can return home safely to his family and enjoy the rest of his life."
The leaders of the army, navy, and marines all shake their heads. "Mr. President, we are in for a long war. The end in not in sight."
I shake my head and look out the windown. I hope God protects me and our returning soldiers from our citizens, and I hope God allows those who have fallen a chance to rest in peace in heaven.
By ~ Jose
Battle of Iwo Jima ~by Ruben
BATTLE OF IWO JIMA
"Hey, it's Ira! The great hero from Iwo Jima!" exclaimed the crowd .
"I'm no hero; the real hero's are the ones who died for our country," said IRA in drunk voice.
"Anyone who served in WWII is a hero. Come on Ira. Tell us your story!"
"OK, " IRA said with a drunken look on his face. "But only if it will shut you up!"
The crowd screamed with joy
As soon as we hit the beach of Iwo Jima, the men to my right and my left were hit by mortars. My brain told my legs to move, but they did not respond. Bullets flew every which way barely missing me. The man in front of me jerked involuntarily as a hole ripped through him large enough to frame the Japanese gunner who was firing. Finally, Rene, one of the other soldiers, pulled me down on the dark sand. When I finally came back down to earth, I realized how much blood there was on the sand and how many boats had been destroyed. The beach was strewn with brains, intestines, and everything else usually kept inside the human body. Our commander, Stank, ordered us to take out the bunker that contained the man and the 47 caliber machine gun that was ripping through our men. We chucked every grenade we had at the enemy. BANG. BANG. The explosion was great. The Japs couldn’t see, but that didn’t stop them. They shot blindly; firing even on their own soldiers without knowing it. My whole squad stopped at one point, but I kept on running. I heard the whiz of bullets coming toward me. Once I reached the top of the bunker, I pointed my Thompson down and pulled the trigger, decimating every living soul in the bunker.
"Nice job, Hayes," yelled Strank, "those Japs probably didn't even know what happened until they met the devil himself!" I only grinned at the compliment. The whole squad sat in the bunker looking at the holes in the roof, shock registering on their faces. No one ever excepted that an Indian from a reservation would have the guts to do what no other man in the squad would dare to do. Their thoughts were suddenly put into place.
Now that we had taken the beaches, Mount Surabachi was our next target. As we climbed the mountain, struggling to gain control, more and more marines fell to the bullets of the Japanese. The bodies of the dead were filled with bullets coming from the Japanese. More and more bullets flew toward me, missing by centimeters. A bullet whizzed past me and hit Bradley in the leg. I watched as he fell a couple feet before the medics carried him away on a stretcher. After that, rage flowed through me like it was the blood pumped by my heart and soul. The only thing that mattered to me now was killing as many of the Japanese as possible. I wanted revenge for Bradley. I pulled out another magazine for my Thompson, my hand shaking. The deafening noises surrounding me only made it harder to concentrate. I put the magazine into the gun and let the hot lead fly from the barrel, hoping at least one bullet would hit its target, a Japanese gunner on the mountain. Finally after two magazines, one bullet hit its target. I watched a Japanese soldier grab his chest. The bullet breaking any bone in its path.
After the gunner was taken out, a lot of the heat let down. My squad was able to charge up the mountain. Once on top, we went into close quarters combat (cqc). One Japanese soldier pulled out a knife and came at me. I hit the knife out of his hand, and then I kicked the Jap over a nearby cliff. There was a scream, but before I could see the Jap hit the ground, another Jap armed with a knife came at me. I pulled my pistol out and shot the man in the chest cavity. He fell to the ground a couple inches from the edge of the cliff. As I was looking down at him, a grenade rolled to my feet. I kicked, but it still knocked me over. I opened my eyes and bullets were still flying everywhere. I couldn’t think straight or aim right, so I got on a mounted machine gun, the jap still holding his chest dying slowly, i shoved him out of the seat, grabbed the gun and fired blindly into the crowd of Japanese soldiers. Long after every Japanese soldier was dead and the mounted gun was out of bullets, I still kept my finger tightly closed on the trigger. The constant sound of clicking came from the empty gun. Finally, Rene came over and calmed me down. It was then we realized that we were half way to taking the island.
After we had taken Mt. Surabachi, my squad raised the American flag, more mortar fire came and we raced down the mountain to suppress the Japanese and keep them from getting any closer. All six of the flag raisers were there on their knees in the sand covered in blood. Most of it was American blood.
Strank was drawing a plan for us in the sand, and we heard the sound of mortar fire again. Then...suddenly, Strank was hit. He shattered; his guts, brain matter, arms and legs flew in every direction. We all just sat in shock. Our first in command had just been blown to pieces right before our eyes. "What are we supposed to do now?" someone asked, for all I know it could have been me. Finally someone else stepped up and took our commander’s place, Corporal Bradley.
"Well? Are we just going to sit here in grief because one man sacrificed his life for his country? If you haven't noticed that's has been happening all around you!” yelled Bradley. "Are we going to sit here and cry or are we going to kill some Japs and help our country and win this island over!" Little did Bradley know that those would be his last words, for just an hour later as we were rushing into more Japanese resistance, Bradley came to the same fate as Strank, leaving only four of us: Block, Rene, Franklin, and me.
After we had a better handle on the island, we started to get shipments of flamethrowers and gallons of gasoline from our allies. We had more and more marines come in to help secure the island. We had pretty much taken over the island all we needed to do is clear out the foxholes and get the Japanese out into the open. We poured gasoline in the entrances of the foxholes and had men waiting with guns to either shoot resistant Japs or take them prisoners. We all knew that a Japanese soldier would rather fight to the death than to surrender. We were ready. At other times we would use the flamethrowers to chase them out into the open so that our sharp shooters could shoot them. Of course we couldn’t get all the foxholes, but that would be dealt with later.
Finally, Franklin, Rene, and I were running back to the boats. Rene in front of me and Franklin was in back. I was looking at Franklin, and he had an expression on his face that said, "We did it! We finally did it!" He was proud. Then, I heard a sound that was too familiar, and Franklin dropped, a hole in his back oozed color red. Looking past him, I saw a Jap running back into a foxhole. Rage flowed through me mixed with my own blood. I took my last grenade. I pulled the pin and held the trigger to let it cook. I then turned around and threw it into the foxhole. The Jap crawled out and yelled something I didn't understand, but it was too late for him. The grenade exploded.
They had to pull me back before I went back in and got myself killed. We loaded onto the boat. Once we were on the way to Okinawa, I decided to stop making friends. Maybe if I didn't make friends, I wouldn't care if they died. I know that every death touched my heart, ripping a bit of it away. One bit for each of my fellow marines who died. Was it possible to witness all that death and not care? not be impacted? I pondered these questions until my head ached. Finally, we reached Okinawa...
(Thump!)
The crowd gasped as they stared at Ira laying on the bar room floor. He had survived Iwo Jima and Okinawa, but he would not survive this night. Ira lay dead on the floor of the bar. As the crowd disapated, they all knew a bit of their heart was ripped away. They all knew this is what war does to people.
By ~ Ruben
"Hey, it's Ira! The great hero from Iwo Jima!" exclaimed the crowd .
"I'm no hero; the real hero's are the ones who died for our country," said IRA in drunk voice.
"Anyone who served in WWII is a hero. Come on Ira. Tell us your story!"
"OK, " IRA said with a drunken look on his face. "But only if it will shut you up!"
The crowd screamed with joy
As soon as we hit the beach of Iwo Jima, the men to my right and my left were hit by mortars. My brain told my legs to move, but they did not respond. Bullets flew every which way barely missing me. The man in front of me jerked involuntarily as a hole ripped through him large enough to frame the Japanese gunner who was firing. Finally, Rene, one of the other soldiers, pulled me down on the dark sand. When I finally came back down to earth, I realized how much blood there was on the sand and how many boats had been destroyed. The beach was strewn with brains, intestines, and everything else usually kept inside the human body. Our commander, Stank, ordered us to take out the bunker that contained the man and the 47 caliber machine gun that was ripping through our men. We chucked every grenade we had at the enemy. BANG. BANG. The explosion was great. The Japs couldn’t see, but that didn’t stop them. They shot blindly; firing even on their own soldiers without knowing it. My whole squad stopped at one point, but I kept on running. I heard the whiz of bullets coming toward me. Once I reached the top of the bunker, I pointed my Thompson down and pulled the trigger, decimating every living soul in the bunker.
"Nice job, Hayes," yelled Strank, "those Japs probably didn't even know what happened until they met the devil himself!" I only grinned at the compliment. The whole squad sat in the bunker looking at the holes in the roof, shock registering on their faces. No one ever excepted that an Indian from a reservation would have the guts to do what no other man in the squad would dare to do. Their thoughts were suddenly put into place.
Now that we had taken the beaches, Mount Surabachi was our next target. As we climbed the mountain, struggling to gain control, more and more marines fell to the bullets of the Japanese. The bodies of the dead were filled with bullets coming from the Japanese. More and more bullets flew toward me, missing by centimeters. A bullet whizzed past me and hit Bradley in the leg. I watched as he fell a couple feet before the medics carried him away on a stretcher. After that, rage flowed through me like it was the blood pumped by my heart and soul. The only thing that mattered to me now was killing as many of the Japanese as possible. I wanted revenge for Bradley. I pulled out another magazine for my Thompson, my hand shaking. The deafening noises surrounding me only made it harder to concentrate. I put the magazine into the gun and let the hot lead fly from the barrel, hoping at least one bullet would hit its target, a Japanese gunner on the mountain. Finally after two magazines, one bullet hit its target. I watched a Japanese soldier grab his chest. The bullet breaking any bone in its path.
After the gunner was taken out, a lot of the heat let down. My squad was able to charge up the mountain. Once on top, we went into close quarters combat (cqc). One Japanese soldier pulled out a knife and came at me. I hit the knife out of his hand, and then I kicked the Jap over a nearby cliff. There was a scream, but before I could see the Jap hit the ground, another Jap armed with a knife came at me. I pulled my pistol out and shot the man in the chest cavity. He fell to the ground a couple inches from the edge of the cliff. As I was looking down at him, a grenade rolled to my feet. I kicked, but it still knocked me over. I opened my eyes and bullets were still flying everywhere. I couldn’t think straight or aim right, so I got on a mounted machine gun, the jap still holding his chest dying slowly, i shoved him out of the seat, grabbed the gun and fired blindly into the crowd of Japanese soldiers. Long after every Japanese soldier was dead and the mounted gun was out of bullets, I still kept my finger tightly closed on the trigger. The constant sound of clicking came from the empty gun. Finally, Rene came over and calmed me down. It was then we realized that we were half way to taking the island.
After we had taken Mt. Surabachi, my squad raised the American flag, more mortar fire came and we raced down the mountain to suppress the Japanese and keep them from getting any closer. All six of the flag raisers were there on their knees in the sand covered in blood. Most of it was American blood.
Strank was drawing a plan for us in the sand, and we heard the sound of mortar fire again. Then...suddenly, Strank was hit. He shattered; his guts, brain matter, arms and legs flew in every direction. We all just sat in shock. Our first in command had just been blown to pieces right before our eyes. "What are we supposed to do now?" someone asked, for all I know it could have been me. Finally someone else stepped up and took our commander’s place, Corporal Bradley.
"Well? Are we just going to sit here in grief because one man sacrificed his life for his country? If you haven't noticed that's has been happening all around you!” yelled Bradley. "Are we going to sit here and cry or are we going to kill some Japs and help our country and win this island over!" Little did Bradley know that those would be his last words, for just an hour later as we were rushing into more Japanese resistance, Bradley came to the same fate as Strank, leaving only four of us: Block, Rene, Franklin, and me.
After we had a better handle on the island, we started to get shipments of flamethrowers and gallons of gasoline from our allies. We had more and more marines come in to help secure the island. We had pretty much taken over the island all we needed to do is clear out the foxholes and get the Japanese out into the open. We poured gasoline in the entrances of the foxholes and had men waiting with guns to either shoot resistant Japs or take them prisoners. We all knew that a Japanese soldier would rather fight to the death than to surrender. We were ready. At other times we would use the flamethrowers to chase them out into the open so that our sharp shooters could shoot them. Of course we couldn’t get all the foxholes, but that would be dealt with later.
Finally, Franklin, Rene, and I were running back to the boats. Rene in front of me and Franklin was in back. I was looking at Franklin, and he had an expression on his face that said, "We did it! We finally did it!" He was proud. Then, I heard a sound that was too familiar, and Franklin dropped, a hole in his back oozed color red. Looking past him, I saw a Jap running back into a foxhole. Rage flowed through me mixed with my own blood. I took my last grenade. I pulled the pin and held the trigger to let it cook. I then turned around and threw it into the foxhole. The Jap crawled out and yelled something I didn't understand, but it was too late for him. The grenade exploded.
They had to pull me back before I went back in and got myself killed. We loaded onto the boat. Once we were on the way to Okinawa, I decided to stop making friends. Maybe if I didn't make friends, I wouldn't care if they died. I know that every death touched my heart, ripping a bit of it away. One bit for each of my fellow marines who died. Was it possible to witness all that death and not care? not be impacted? I pondered these questions until my head ached. Finally, we reached Okinawa...
(Thump!)
The crowd gasped as they stared at Ira laying on the bar room floor. He had survived Iwo Jima and Okinawa, but he would not survive this night. Ira lay dead on the floor of the bar. As the crowd disapated, they all knew a bit of their heart was ripped away. They all knew this is what war does to people.
By ~ Ruben
Ketu, the Tomb Raider -by Scott
My name is Ketu. I'm a proud Egyptian boy. My father is dying, I'm holding on to his cold chilly hand. Thoughts are running through my head. How will I survive? I'm sobbing as I watch my father struggle for breath; he is wheezing hard. He's looking paler and paler by the minute. I say to him, ''Hold on, Father. It will be okay.'' But, I know in my own head it won't be. He is in horrible pain; he wants to pass away. He can't stand it any longer.
Minutes later, he slowly passed away.
I wake from that terrible dream dripping in sweat. I've been having this exact dream for the past two months.
I wake up ready for school. I walk down stairs. "Do you want breakfast son?" my father asked.
"No, I'm not hungry." I continue walking, ignoring my father. I know he is mad at me for acting this way. It's not like I'm trying to be mean. I realize that we cannot afford more food. For this, I cannot forgive him. It was his fault we are poor; in life he made many unwise choices. He has kept us poor. I leave him and continue slowly walking down the path to school.
Finally, I meet up with my friend Sett. Sett is too short to be twelve years old. He has large brown eyes that follow me everywhere I go. He asked, "How you going?"
"Fine," I reply in a grumpy tone.
“You don't sound fine."
"Seriously, don't worry about me." We come up to the markets, I walk up to a fruit stand and casually snatch an apple.
"Why do we always steal?" Sett questioned. Sett probably feels bad being around my influence. He wants to be friends, but I wonder if he feels uncomfortable breaking the rules.
"Because I have barely any food at our house, certainly not enough to survive on anyway."
Sett nods. I don’t have to explain this to him, his life is the same. But he said what he always said to me, “Ketu, remember there are many ways to be rich.”
Sett and I arrive at school go our separate ways. School is the same as always since I started when I was 10 years old. Our teacher instructs us about the proper way to write. We copy and recopy passages until they are perfect. I am expected to try my hardest because my father paid his entire fortune for me to go to school. One day, though, I will be a famous scribe for the Pharaoh.
Later that evening I met up with Sett and we started to talk. Sett had a very solemn look on his face. "Hey Ketu, have you heard the news?"
"No, what news?" I asked.
"Well, King Tutkhamun has just died."
I froze as the news sunk in. I wondered how can this happen; he was only 18 and he always has body guards with him. He rides the fastest horses and is protected by the finest chariots. He eats well and has plenty to drink. "How did this happen?" I questioned still very puzzled.
"No one knows; it's still one big shock."
"Be careful, Ketu! Who knows what could be lurking around the corner. I will see you tommorow," Sett said, "Remember be careful!" he exclaimed. Sett was always worried about Ketu. He soon cut off to a different path to get himself home.
I couldn’t stop thinking about King Tut’s death. I was wondering, Was there a secret assassin? Could someone have killed out pharaoh?, Did he commit suicide? I continued walking extremely cautiously. I heard something in the bushes; I froze solid afraid to move. Then the noise grew louder and seemed to come closer. A shadow was starting to form. I thought, I should run, but what if he chases me? Is it the assassin? If I keep silent, he might go away. So I crouched down and kept quiet. No matter, it jumped from the bushes. I jumped and almost screamed. Then I realized it a cat.
Later that night I lay in bed awake; I was still curious about how our pharaoh died. Questions raced through my head over and over again. Then out of the blue a vision popped up into my head: Tuthankhmun's burial chamber! Everyone knew that the pharaohs were buried with more gold and food than pheasants had their entire lives. Everyone knew that the pharaohs took these things to their graves to help them in their next life. But, he hasn't done anything to help me or my father. He's just taxed us, taking more and more leaving us with less and less. I knew that I should not be thinking of stealing from our pharaoh, the son of Ra, but the thought would not leave me. I planned for many months and created a detailed plan of how I would steal from him. Soon his tomb would be ready and so would I.
My plan was set. The night before my departure, I slept very little. The next morning I got up before the sun had risen. I received only two and a half hours of sleep the night before. I was very nervous about what I was going to do. I didn't know if I should continue or not. I spent almost ten minutes arguing with myself. But when I saw our empty pantry and storage pots, I knew I had to do it. It wasn't an option. I stormed out of the house heading for the Valley of the Kings, rushing away before I changed my mind.
After almost four hours of walking under the boiling hot sun, I had arrived at the valley of the kings. The first thing I had to do was make my way through all these mazes. It took me about half an hour just to find an entrance. Once I found it, I had to use absolutely all my strength to open the door. I saw a long narrow tunnel that seems to go on to nowhere. I started to walk slowly and steadily. I was being extra careful not to set off any booby traps, I'd heard about them from my father. He knew many stories about tomb robbers of the past. Then the tunnel became smaller until I was crawling on my knees. I was scared, Am I going to make it? Will I make it out? I suddenly was faced with a dead end, and my heart sunk. I stayed there, just staring at the wall. Then I screamed out, ''I must not give up. I must not give up,'' slamming my fist against the wall. Then I felt a little grove in the wall, I put my hand in there and pushed to the left. The wall shifted and I knew that I had arrived at Tutankhamun's tomb.
A beautiful picture appeared in front of my eyes. What I saw was clothing enough to last a few months. There was so much food, delicious food fit only for a pharaoh. There was also elaborate jewelery, statues representing servants that would care for him in the next life, and beautiful pictures of scenes of daily life painted on the wall. In the center of the huge room was a box made out of wood with beautiful paintings on it. I knew Tutankhamun would be in there.
There was enough food in here to last me and my father for months. Plus all these clothes, I could change my clothes for once instead of wearing only these stinky old rags. Or, I could sell them. We would be rich. This thought kept running through my head. I walked up carefully to a pile of rare jewelery. The jewells shimmed in the light. I picked up a handful of jewelry. I said mockingly to King Tut, “You won’t miss this in the next life, will you?” Right there I had a thought. How would I like it if someone stole from my father. What if it was my father who was in that tomb? And then a more troubling thought came to me, How would it make my dad feel if he knew I was stealing? This thought clouded all the jewels and food that was within my reach. I knew what I had to do. I didn't have to be rich in money to make me happy, being rich in knowledge would be enough for me.
I walked away from the beautiful tomb. I walked away from what could have made my father and me rich. But as I walked away from my dreams, I knew it was my only option. It was the right thing to do. I left the tomb feeling that I had accomplished something great. I may be going home empty handed, but my heart and my conscience were full.
I arrived home feeling great. I yelled out to my dad. There was no reply, only an awkward silence. "Dad are you there?" Still, there was no reply. I walked in to the dining room. What I saw shocked me. My dad lay on the couch. I ran up to him as fast as I could. I knew he was in a bad condition. "Dad I will get you to doctor," I told him. "No son this is it for me," he paused for just a second, "Son, you know I've always wanted you to be happy, that's all I've wanted is you to be happy." This just the way I pictured it in my dream, but know I am not dreaming. He was wheezing hard. I started to cry and then and there he slowly passed away.
by ~ Scott
Minutes later, he slowly passed away.
I wake from that terrible dream dripping in sweat. I've been having this exact dream for the past two months.
I wake up ready for school. I walk down stairs. "Do you want breakfast son?" my father asked.
"No, I'm not hungry." I continue walking, ignoring my father. I know he is mad at me for acting this way. It's not like I'm trying to be mean. I realize that we cannot afford more food. For this, I cannot forgive him. It was his fault we are poor; in life he made many unwise choices. He has kept us poor. I leave him and continue slowly walking down the path to school.
Finally, I meet up with my friend Sett. Sett is too short to be twelve years old. He has large brown eyes that follow me everywhere I go. He asked, "How you going?"
"Fine," I reply in a grumpy tone.
“You don't sound fine."
"Seriously, don't worry about me." We come up to the markets, I walk up to a fruit stand and casually snatch an apple.
"Why do we always steal?" Sett questioned. Sett probably feels bad being around my influence. He wants to be friends, but I wonder if he feels uncomfortable breaking the rules.
"Because I have barely any food at our house, certainly not enough to survive on anyway."
Sett nods. I don’t have to explain this to him, his life is the same. But he said what he always said to me, “Ketu, remember there are many ways to be rich.”
Sett and I arrive at school go our separate ways. School is the same as always since I started when I was 10 years old. Our teacher instructs us about the proper way to write. We copy and recopy passages until they are perfect. I am expected to try my hardest because my father paid his entire fortune for me to go to school. One day, though, I will be a famous scribe for the Pharaoh.
Later that evening I met up with Sett and we started to talk. Sett had a very solemn look on his face. "Hey Ketu, have you heard the news?"
"No, what news?" I asked.
"Well, King Tutkhamun has just died."
I froze as the news sunk in. I wondered how can this happen; he was only 18 and he always has body guards with him. He rides the fastest horses and is protected by the finest chariots. He eats well and has plenty to drink. "How did this happen?" I questioned still very puzzled.
"No one knows; it's still one big shock."
"Be careful, Ketu! Who knows what could be lurking around the corner. I will see you tommorow," Sett said, "Remember be careful!" he exclaimed. Sett was always worried about Ketu. He soon cut off to a different path to get himself home.
I couldn’t stop thinking about King Tut’s death. I was wondering, Was there a secret assassin? Could someone have killed out pharaoh?, Did he commit suicide? I continued walking extremely cautiously. I heard something in the bushes; I froze solid afraid to move. Then the noise grew louder and seemed to come closer. A shadow was starting to form. I thought, I should run, but what if he chases me? Is it the assassin? If I keep silent, he might go away. So I crouched down and kept quiet. No matter, it jumped from the bushes. I jumped and almost screamed. Then I realized it a cat.
Later that night I lay in bed awake; I was still curious about how our pharaoh died. Questions raced through my head over and over again. Then out of the blue a vision popped up into my head: Tuthankhmun's burial chamber! Everyone knew that the pharaohs were buried with more gold and food than pheasants had their entire lives. Everyone knew that the pharaohs took these things to their graves to help them in their next life. But, he hasn't done anything to help me or my father. He's just taxed us, taking more and more leaving us with less and less. I knew that I should not be thinking of stealing from our pharaoh, the son of Ra, but the thought would not leave me. I planned for many months and created a detailed plan of how I would steal from him. Soon his tomb would be ready and so would I.
My plan was set. The night before my departure, I slept very little. The next morning I got up before the sun had risen. I received only two and a half hours of sleep the night before. I was very nervous about what I was going to do. I didn't know if I should continue or not. I spent almost ten minutes arguing with myself. But when I saw our empty pantry and storage pots, I knew I had to do it. It wasn't an option. I stormed out of the house heading for the Valley of the Kings, rushing away before I changed my mind.
After almost four hours of walking under the boiling hot sun, I had arrived at the valley of the kings. The first thing I had to do was make my way through all these mazes. It took me about half an hour just to find an entrance. Once I found it, I had to use absolutely all my strength to open the door. I saw a long narrow tunnel that seems to go on to nowhere. I started to walk slowly and steadily. I was being extra careful not to set off any booby traps, I'd heard about them from my father. He knew many stories about tomb robbers of the past. Then the tunnel became smaller until I was crawling on my knees. I was scared, Am I going to make it? Will I make it out? I suddenly was faced with a dead end, and my heart sunk. I stayed there, just staring at the wall. Then I screamed out, ''I must not give up. I must not give up,'' slamming my fist against the wall. Then I felt a little grove in the wall, I put my hand in there and pushed to the left. The wall shifted and I knew that I had arrived at Tutankhamun's tomb.
A beautiful picture appeared in front of my eyes. What I saw was clothing enough to last a few months. There was so much food, delicious food fit only for a pharaoh. There was also elaborate jewelery, statues representing servants that would care for him in the next life, and beautiful pictures of scenes of daily life painted on the wall. In the center of the huge room was a box made out of wood with beautiful paintings on it. I knew Tutankhamun would be in there.
There was enough food in here to last me and my father for months. Plus all these clothes, I could change my clothes for once instead of wearing only these stinky old rags. Or, I could sell them. We would be rich. This thought kept running through my head. I walked up carefully to a pile of rare jewelery. The jewells shimmed in the light. I picked up a handful of jewelry. I said mockingly to King Tut, “You won’t miss this in the next life, will you?” Right there I had a thought. How would I like it if someone stole from my father. What if it was my father who was in that tomb? And then a more troubling thought came to me, How would it make my dad feel if he knew I was stealing? This thought clouded all the jewels and food that was within my reach. I knew what I had to do. I didn't have to be rich in money to make me happy, being rich in knowledge would be enough for me.
I walked away from the beautiful tomb. I walked away from what could have made my father and me rich. But as I walked away from my dreams, I knew it was my only option. It was the right thing to do. I left the tomb feeling that I had accomplished something great. I may be going home empty handed, but my heart and my conscience were full.
I arrived home feeling great. I yelled out to my dad. There was no reply, only an awkward silence. "Dad are you there?" Still, there was no reply. I walked in to the dining room. What I saw shocked me. My dad lay on the couch. I ran up to him as fast as I could. I knew he was in a bad condition. "Dad I will get you to doctor," I told him. "No son this is it for me," he paused for just a second, "Son, you know I've always wanted you to be happy, that's all I've wanted is you to be happy." This just the way I pictured it in my dream, but know I am not dreaming. He was wheezing hard. I started to cry and then and there he slowly passed away.
by ~ Scott
Sparticus ~by Cameron
Sparticus opened his eyes sleepily, but he was not in his bedroom. Where am I? Sparticus wondered. Then he realized that he was in his father's barn. He had fallen asleep again.
His Dad was going to kill him if he found out he was sleeping when he was supposed to be cleaning out the stall. He jumped out of the hay stack, when he heard his dad yell in a grumpy voice, "SPARTICUS! YOU HAD BETTER NOT BE SLEEPING IN THE BARN AGAIN!" He ran to the supply closet and grabbed the broom; a splinter stabbed into his hand right as his dad walked in the door. The pain from the splinter flowed through him, but Sparticus did not flinch. "That's good that you're working. For a second I thought you were sleeping," his father said.
Sparticus lied, "Dad, I would never sleep when I should be working." He turned around and smiled to himself. I have a great dad, he thought. He did not know that today was the last day he would ever see his father alive again.
"How about you go to the market and get some bread from the bakery?" his father asked.
"Ok. I'll be right back," replied Sparticus. As he was heading down to the market, he saw a group of Roman soldiers pass by. He kept his head down because when he was a boy, his dad would tell him, "When you're sixteen, if a Roman soldier sees you, you will be taken away with no warning." But Spartacus couldn't help looking to see where they were heading. He looked back and saw that they were heading in the direction of his house. I bet there is another house that they're going to, Sparticus thought, They couldn't be heading to my house...they just couldn't be.
Sparticus got to the market with questions still bubbling in his head: What are Roman Soldiers doing in are town? Why did they pick this town? What do they want? Do they want more people to be gladiators? Sparticus paid for the bread. First he walked, then he jogged, and finally he ran until he was home. Sparticus ran through the doorway. His eyes swelled up in tears as he saw his dad lying on the floor with a knife in his chest. Sparticus looked away. He could not look at his father again. He then woried, Is my mother dead, too? He heard a noise deeper in his house and thought, That could it be my mother.
He ran into the kitchen but it was not his mother; it was two Roman soldiers. They saw him as he came though the door. Sparticus stopped in his tracks as the Roman soldiers lunged at him. He felt a bone crack in his arm and screamed in pain. He felt every limb in his body go stiff as the weight of the two Roman soldiers pinned him down. He was captured.
During the fight, he had managed to break the nose of one soldier and give the other a black eye. They started dragging Sparticus out of the house, but he kept fighting back. Then he grew tired of fighting and just went limp, his arm still stinging from the battle. Sparticus woke up and found himself in a cart; he sat up and looked around. There were a lot more people in the cart, he guessed they too had been captured by other Roman soldiers. Then saw someone who looked to be about his same age. The boy smiled and waved, but then he looked away. As Spartacus looked around for the reason the kid looked away, a shadow came over him. Sparticus looked up; a Roman soldier was looking down at him frowning.
"Were you talking to that boy over there?" the Roman soldier asked Sparticus.
"No sir," Sparticus lied.
"Good," said the soldier. The soldier turned away.
Sparticus sat up after another nap and looked at a shadow far away, it finally came into focas and Sparticus then thought, Oh no. In the distance was a huge ship with a big flag on it that showed a gladiator fighting another gladiator in a big arena. After everyone had boarded the ship, it set sail. Sparticus was very worried now. Will I ever go home again? he wondered. When the other boy looked back again, Sparticus was the one who waved hi. Then, Sparticus quickly moved forward and sat next to the boy. Sparticus asked, "What is your name?"
He said, "Solum. What's your name?"
"Spartacus." They spent the rest of the trip telling stories about their lives.
After weeks on board the ship, they heard a loud horn play far away. Sparticus looked up and saw a big island with at least one hundred buildings. In the the middle of everything was a huge coliseum. Sparticuses and Solums mouths dropped; it was the biggest building they have ever seen in their whole lives. Sparticus and Solum were marching down the smooth stone paths with a least twenty Roman soldiers to their front, side, and back. Everyone came out to see the new captured slaves. The Coliseum got bigger as they marched closer. Then, they finally were inside. The coliseum had so many passageways that Sparticus was supprised that the soldiers knew were to go. They had been walking for a least a half hour when they reached one big wooden door. The Roman soldiers opened the door, and when Sparticus looked throug the door, he was amazed and very afraid of what was inside.
Inside, at least two hundred slaves, who had been kidnapped from their homes, looked very worried and nervous. Sparticus looked around and saw women, men, and kids. The soldiers took off the handcuffs and pushed Sparticus and the others into the room then slammed the door shut.
It was at least two hours had past before a guard came back. A man was behind him, but he did not look like another prisoner. He had a golden crown and a big black robe made of bear hide. He stopped in the middle of the room and said, "Hello young and old people! I will tell you why you're here in one minute."
"We don't need to know why we're here; just let us go," said a prisoner.
The robed man looked at the prisoner and said, "Then leave!"
The prisoner looked suprised and stood up and walked up to the door. But before he could open it, a dagger flew from the man's hand and landed in the prisoner's neck. He fell to the floor before he could escape.
"Now," the man said in a calm, mocking voice, "does anyone else wish to leave?"
Sparticus felt sick, but he could not look away from the man on the floor. He remembered seeing his father lying on the floor and started to feel as though he would faint. He sensed he was falling to the floor, pictures of the prisoner and his father swirled in his head. He tried to scream, but no words came out. He fell to the floor in complete darkness.
Sparticus woke up, but could not see anything. He guessed he was still in his dream. Suddenly, a torch lit the room and the same man who killed the prisoner was now smiling down at him. Sparticus jumped away in fright.
"There is nothing to be afraid of" the man said. "It looked like you got a big bump on your head when you fell," the man said again.
"Who are you?" Sparticus asked.
"I am Emperor Ramados". I have chosen you to entertain me!"
Weeks later:
Sparticus would not fight. He could not kill another human being. He had always been a good peson, never thinking that fighting was the answer to any problem. But now he was scheduled to fight in the colusseum. He was supposed to fight and kill another person just to give other people - those who had never fought themselves - entertainment. As if this situation was not bad enough, his opponent was Solum.
The night before the battle, Solum was pushed into his cell by the gaurd behind him. The gaurd said, "This is the person you will fight."
Sparticus could not speak. He had befriended him on their journey here, and now they were to try and kill one another to entertain the emperor. He could not do it. He would not do it. Suddenly, a plan shot up into Sparticus's head.
Before the guard could close the door, Sparticus jumped. He quickly grabed the gaurds neck "SNAP" the gaurd fell to the floor Sparticus was so supprised that he had killed the gaurd that he almost fell to the floor but caught his balence again. Sparticus and Solum ran out the door to the cell and turned down a corner then another corner. They heard yells from gaurds that found the body of the killed gaurd. Sparticus ran for his life he saw light get closer and closer till he burst through the door Sparticus looked back to see if Solum was there but he was not there Sparticus's heart was beating so fast that he thought it would burst. Then relief washed over him as he saw Solum come through the door "Hury up" Sparticus said to Solum.
"I'm coming" Solum said panting. Sparticus saw a fishing boat ahead he raced to it with Solum right at his heals. He jumped into the boat then Sparticus heart lept as Solum jumped onto the boat they ducked down behide the rall. A couple of seconds past befor a hole troup of Soldiers came racing past the boat. Sparticus and Solum quickly raced below deck. Sparticus whispered in an excited voice, "Where to now?"
In an exhilirated voice, Solum said, "Welp... I guess we will go where ever the water takes us!"
Sparticus and Solum smiled broudly. They were finally free, so regardless of where they ended up, all was well.
By ~ Cameron
His Dad was going to kill him if he found out he was sleeping when he was supposed to be cleaning out the stall. He jumped out of the hay stack, when he heard his dad yell in a grumpy voice, "SPARTICUS! YOU HAD BETTER NOT BE SLEEPING IN THE BARN AGAIN!" He ran to the supply closet and grabbed the broom; a splinter stabbed into his hand right as his dad walked in the door. The pain from the splinter flowed through him, but Sparticus did not flinch. "That's good that you're working. For a second I thought you were sleeping," his father said.
Sparticus lied, "Dad, I would never sleep when I should be working." He turned around and smiled to himself. I have a great dad, he thought. He did not know that today was the last day he would ever see his father alive again.
"How about you go to the market and get some bread from the bakery?" his father asked.
"Ok. I'll be right back," replied Sparticus. As he was heading down to the market, he saw a group of Roman soldiers pass by. He kept his head down because when he was a boy, his dad would tell him, "When you're sixteen, if a Roman soldier sees you, you will be taken away with no warning." But Spartacus couldn't help looking to see where they were heading. He looked back and saw that they were heading in the direction of his house. I bet there is another house that they're going to, Sparticus thought, They couldn't be heading to my house...they just couldn't be.
Sparticus got to the market with questions still bubbling in his head: What are Roman Soldiers doing in are town? Why did they pick this town? What do they want? Do they want more people to be gladiators? Sparticus paid for the bread. First he walked, then he jogged, and finally he ran until he was home. Sparticus ran through the doorway. His eyes swelled up in tears as he saw his dad lying on the floor with a knife in his chest. Sparticus looked away. He could not look at his father again. He then woried, Is my mother dead, too? He heard a noise deeper in his house and thought, That could it be my mother.
He ran into the kitchen but it was not his mother; it was two Roman soldiers. They saw him as he came though the door. Sparticus stopped in his tracks as the Roman soldiers lunged at him. He felt a bone crack in his arm and screamed in pain. He felt every limb in his body go stiff as the weight of the two Roman soldiers pinned him down. He was captured.
During the fight, he had managed to break the nose of one soldier and give the other a black eye. They started dragging Sparticus out of the house, but he kept fighting back. Then he grew tired of fighting and just went limp, his arm still stinging from the battle. Sparticus woke up and found himself in a cart; he sat up and looked around. There were a lot more people in the cart, he guessed they too had been captured by other Roman soldiers. Then saw someone who looked to be about his same age. The boy smiled and waved, but then he looked away. As Spartacus looked around for the reason the kid looked away, a shadow came over him. Sparticus looked up; a Roman soldier was looking down at him frowning.
"Were you talking to that boy over there?" the Roman soldier asked Sparticus.
"No sir," Sparticus lied.
"Good," said the soldier. The soldier turned away.
Sparticus sat up after another nap and looked at a shadow far away, it finally came into focas and Sparticus then thought, Oh no. In the distance was a huge ship with a big flag on it that showed a gladiator fighting another gladiator in a big arena. After everyone had boarded the ship, it set sail. Sparticus was very worried now. Will I ever go home again? he wondered. When the other boy looked back again, Sparticus was the one who waved hi. Then, Sparticus quickly moved forward and sat next to the boy. Sparticus asked, "What is your name?"
He said, "Solum. What's your name?"
"Spartacus." They spent the rest of the trip telling stories about their lives.
After weeks on board the ship, they heard a loud horn play far away. Sparticus looked up and saw a big island with at least one hundred buildings. In the the middle of everything was a huge coliseum. Sparticuses and Solums mouths dropped; it was the biggest building they have ever seen in their whole lives. Sparticus and Solum were marching down the smooth stone paths with a least twenty Roman soldiers to their front, side, and back. Everyone came out to see the new captured slaves. The Coliseum got bigger as they marched closer. Then, they finally were inside. The coliseum had so many passageways that Sparticus was supprised that the soldiers knew were to go. They had been walking for a least a half hour when they reached one big wooden door. The Roman soldiers opened the door, and when Sparticus looked throug the door, he was amazed and very afraid of what was inside.
Inside, at least two hundred slaves, who had been kidnapped from their homes, looked very worried and nervous. Sparticus looked around and saw women, men, and kids. The soldiers took off the handcuffs and pushed Sparticus and the others into the room then slammed the door shut.
It was at least two hours had past before a guard came back. A man was behind him, but he did not look like another prisoner. He had a golden crown and a big black robe made of bear hide. He stopped in the middle of the room and said, "Hello young and old people! I will tell you why you're here in one minute."
"We don't need to know why we're here; just let us go," said a prisoner.
The robed man looked at the prisoner and said, "Then leave!"
The prisoner looked suprised and stood up and walked up to the door. But before he could open it, a dagger flew from the man's hand and landed in the prisoner's neck. He fell to the floor before he could escape.
"Now," the man said in a calm, mocking voice, "does anyone else wish to leave?"
Sparticus felt sick, but he could not look away from the man on the floor. He remembered seeing his father lying on the floor and started to feel as though he would faint. He sensed he was falling to the floor, pictures of the prisoner and his father swirled in his head. He tried to scream, but no words came out. He fell to the floor in complete darkness.
Sparticus woke up, but could not see anything. He guessed he was still in his dream. Suddenly, a torch lit the room and the same man who killed the prisoner was now smiling down at him. Sparticus jumped away in fright.
"There is nothing to be afraid of" the man said. "It looked like you got a big bump on your head when you fell," the man said again.
"Who are you?" Sparticus asked.
"I am Emperor Ramados". I have chosen you to entertain me!"
Weeks later:
Sparticus would not fight. He could not kill another human being. He had always been a good peson, never thinking that fighting was the answer to any problem. But now he was scheduled to fight in the colusseum. He was supposed to fight and kill another person just to give other people - those who had never fought themselves - entertainment. As if this situation was not bad enough, his opponent was Solum.
The night before the battle, Solum was pushed into his cell by the gaurd behind him. The gaurd said, "This is the person you will fight."
Sparticus could not speak. He had befriended him on their journey here, and now they were to try and kill one another to entertain the emperor. He could not do it. He would not do it. Suddenly, a plan shot up into Sparticus's head.
Before the guard could close the door, Sparticus jumped. He quickly grabed the gaurds neck "SNAP" the gaurd fell to the floor Sparticus was so supprised that he had killed the gaurd that he almost fell to the floor but caught his balence again. Sparticus and Solum ran out the door to the cell and turned down a corner then another corner. They heard yells from gaurds that found the body of the killed gaurd. Sparticus ran for his life he saw light get closer and closer till he burst through the door Sparticus looked back to see if Solum was there but he was not there Sparticus's heart was beating so fast that he thought it would burst. Then relief washed over him as he saw Solum come through the door "Hury up" Sparticus said to Solum.
"I'm coming" Solum said panting. Sparticus saw a fishing boat ahead he raced to it with Solum right at his heals. He jumped into the boat then Sparticus heart lept as Solum jumped onto the boat they ducked down behide the rall. A couple of seconds past befor a hole troup of Soldiers came racing past the boat. Sparticus and Solum quickly raced below deck. Sparticus whispered in an excited voice, "Where to now?"
In an exhilirated voice, Solum said, "Welp... I guess we will go where ever the water takes us!"
Sparticus and Solum smiled broudly. They were finally free, so regardless of where they ended up, all was well.
By ~ Cameron
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