Challenge Poetry

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Challenge Poetry Styles:

Think of a serious challenge in your life. Modeling your writing after these commercials, write 4 poems about this challenge.

Beautiful

_____________ is beautiful.

_____________ is beautiful.

_____________ is beautiful.

_____________ is beautiful.

_____________ is beautiful.

_____________ may be ugly,

but

_____________ is beautiful.

Remember

Remember me, ____________________?

You gave me ____________________.

You made me _____________________

And ___________________________________

And __________________________________

But

You made me ________________________________

And _____________________________________

And _____________________________________.

Remember me, ____________________?

You made me what I am today.

I Want

I want to (die of, fight, worry about, etc.) ________________ ____________________

I want to (die of, fight, worry about, etc.) ________________ ____________________

I want to (die of, fight, worry about, etc.) ________________ ____________________

I want to (die of, fight, worry about, etc.) ________________ ____________________

I want to (die of, fight, worry about, etc.) ________________ ____________________

But I refuse, I refuse

to _______________________ __________________________.

I want to ___________________________ from something else.

Infections

I’m infected with ________________________________________

And ____________________________________________

I’m infected with ________________________________________

And ____________________________________________

I’m infected with ________________________________________

Understanding Who WE are!

Exploring who you are is something that fascinates many people....
here are some tools to do this:

* Personality tests

* Another personality test:
Long Test or Short test

* The Right Questions:
The Right Questions - 10 Essential Qustions to Guide you to an Extraordinary Life! (by Debbie Ford)

These are question to ask ourselves when we are making choices in our lives:

1. Will this choice propel me toward an inspiring future or will it keep me stuck in the past?
2. Will this choice bring me long-term fulfillment or will it bring me short-term gratificaiton?
3. Am I standing in my power or am I trying to please another?
4. Am I looking for what's right or am I looking for what's wrong?
5. Will this choice add to my life force or will it rob me of my energy?
6. Will I use this situation as a catelyst to grow and evolve or will I use it to beat myself up?
7. Does this choice empower me or does it disempower me?
8. Is this an act of self-love or is it an act of self-sabotage?
9. Is this an act of faith or is it an act of fear?
10. Am I choosing from my divinity or am I choosing from my humanity? (I'm not far enough in the book to totally understand this yet.)



* 7 Essential Questions:

1. How would you describe yourself as a child between the ages of 5 and 12.

2. What did you learn about women/men while you were growing up?
3. What are three or four of your early childhood memories?
4. How would you describe either of your parents?
5. What were your siblings like?
6. What's the difference between your ideal self and your real self? (
7. How would you fill in the blank?: I only matter in life when I am _______

from Kevin Leman The Birth Order Connection

Getting along with others:

Outwitted

He drew a circle that shut me out -
Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout;
But Love and I had the wit to win:
I drew a circle that took him in!

By: Edwin Markham's


The Power Of Questioning:
"Questions are the lasers into human consciousness. Use their power to cut through all obstacles in life. Successful people ask THEMSELVES tougher questions and provide themselves better answers." -Anthony Robbins

QUALITY QUESTIONS create QUALITY LIVES!

Quality Questions:
are about the questioner
use I, me, myself, etc...never her, him, he, she, they, etc
are used to understand the questioners feelings or emotions or motives or actions....

example:
Why do I....
Why did I....
How could I get my teacher to listen to me. (Not, why doesn't my teacher listen?)
How could I have reacted to.....
Where did I go wrong?
What could I have done differently?
Who am I trying to impress?


Daily Power Questions:
What makes me happy?
Why does this make me happy?
How do I feel when I'm happy?

(Goal: to understand why things make us happy so we are able to look for happiness in other places. For example: Skiing make me happy because I can think on the lift. By understanding that thinking makes me happy I can create that in other places. Also, by understanding how I feel when happy, I can recognize it! Skiing makes me happy because it makes me feel peaceful. I might then recognize feeling peaceful while reading and realize that also makes me happy.)

More Daily Power Questions:
What do I give?
How do I contribute?
What did I learn recently/today?
How has today enhanced my life?
How can I use today as an investment for my future?


As a Human Being, I have the Right:
to be considered as a mature adult.
to have my needs be of equal importance to the needs of others.
to makes mistakes and to be responsible for them.
to make my own deicisons.
to say "no" (without feeling guilty).
to express my opinion.
to feel and express anger - as well as other emotions - as long as I do not hurt others.
to be listened to.
to be responsible for myself and my actions.
to say "I don't know" or "I don't understand"
to feel positive toward myself and my accomplishments.
~not sure who wrote these?

4 agreements:
Don't make assumptions.
Don't take things personally.
Be impeccalbe with your word.
Always do your best.
~Don Miguel Ruiz

Hiroshima ~by Claire A.

The summer of 1945 changed my life forever. Nagasaki had supposedly been bombed yesterday, but I didn't believe that. Rumors were flying throughout Japan in 1945. The war was coming closer to our shores. My sister, father, mother, who was large with child, and I ran through the streets of Hiroshima heading toward the shelter. As we ran, my mother began to slow. Then she stopped, letting out a blood curdling scream. The baby was on its way.

We were separated from Momma, and she was transported to the hospital. Days went by really slowly in Hiroshima, as we waiting, hoping that no bombs would come. However, the days started going by really fast with my mother in the hospital and my family in jeopardy. It was strange living without my mother. Every night my father went outside the air raid shelter; he said, "I'm just going out for a smoke." I would ask if I can go outside with him, but he said no. I was sick of sleeping on the concrete, being trapped inside a metal building, and breathing in "people fumes."

One night I decided to go outside with my father, to see what he was really up to. I didn't want him to know, so I stayed in the doorway. I saw my father go around the corner; I followed. Papa reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and stood in front of a telephone booth. The phone started ringing. I was surprised; it seemed Papa was waiting for the call. Papa held the receiver up to his ear and said some words in a language I did not know. Confused, I went back inside. With a twisted look on my face, I shuffled over to the sleeping mat and plopped to the floor. I called my sister over, "Sazukia? Sazukia?" She came running over. I repeated the words I had heard Papa say into the phone. She had been studying English, and I wondered if that was the language he was speaking. I asked her to translate. She gave me a puzzled look, and then translated those cursed words.

Two days went by. Father still went outside for those calls. On August sixth he went outside for a final call. Suzukia and I followed. It was the same routine I had seen before: he went outside, the phone would ring, he would answer and say words I had never heard before. Sazukia's eyes widened, and she couldn't speak until I shook her out of the trance. "What did he say?" a worried tremor in my voice.
"Well," Sazukia said hesitantly, "Um he said..."
"Spit it out!" I said, getting impatient.
"He said...um...that the conditions are perfect for a bomb drop."
"He wouldn't say that! Who would he be talking to? How does he know about bombs?" The conversation went on for about thirty minutes, back and forth, back and forth as we tried to figure out our father.

Then we got the news we had a new sister. My heart was filled with emotion; it was almost overwhelming. We were going to the hospital to meet our sister. It was the first time I had actually gone outside in three weeks. My father told our escorts that he had to go to the lavatory, and he disappeared around the corner. I followed him as he snuck back to the phone booth. Right then and there I realized my father was our enemy, not our hero. He picked up the phone and placed a call. As soon as the person on the other end picked up, Papa whispered, "Now." When he said that word, an enemy fighter plane appeared in the sky. I could read the words ENOLA GAY painted on the sides. Under the plane, a white sphere kept my eye, holding it like a lion clutching a baby gazelle.

"Inside, now!" our escorts yelled.
"But my mommy's out there," I screeched hitting our escorts as they dragged me through the door. I desperately wanted to get to the hospital. The door was slammed behind me, and my father followed us inside and glared at me, an evil glint in his eye. This look I did not understand, and it was a look I didn't like.

Within seconds, everyone ran to the windows to see what the commotion was about. I ran too; I saw then the bomb drop from the belly of the plane. It fell from the sky and everyone ran away from the windows except me. My mother was out there and I wanted her back. Then, blue rays of light shone in through the windows and hit many people. I fell to the floor as the building was lifted intact and moved by the blast. A grueling ten minutes went by and the building moaned and groaned, then collapsed. It felt like the weight of the whole building was on my back as I lay face down in the broken concrete. "Help!" was the only thing I heard, and it rang in my ears. It rang endlessly, "Help, help, help."
After the smoke cleared, I saw nothing. Well actually a dry trench surrounded by scorched,crumbling buildings. The destruction was horrifying. The once beautiful park was now filled with shards of broken glass and ash.

We had struggled through the day, running from the fires. We made it to an elementary school that would serve as our shelter that night. When I woke up the next morning, I remembered that my baby sister was born yesterday. August 6th, her birthday, was the worst day of my life. I called for Sazukia, but my sister didn't answer. I clambered to my feet, ignoring the nurses who told me to stay put. I walked around regardless of my bleeding feet, and mangled skin. I called and called for my sister, over and over again. I called for my mother, and I even called for my father, even though he was a traitor. After all he might have been the only part of my family left. There was no reply. The deep gashes on my face oozed blood that ran into my eyes; it stung and I cried bloody tears. I called one more time before giving up, and that is when I heard my mother's voice. It was as thin as a spider's web. I started to run toward the voice, but I was stopped by the police.

"Excuse me, I just wanted to ask you some questions."
"Yes," I replied, nervous to find out what they wanted to know.
They asked me many questions, simple at first, but they got harder and harder, and finally they asked me the question I had been dreading. "Do you know anyone connected to the bombing?"
I swallowed hard then burst into tears, "Yes, yes I think know someone. My father has been making calls to someone...about a plane? He...he..."
"Show us your father," the guard said.
"I...I...don't know were he is," I stammered. The police led me to a nurse.
"Mam," a nurse turned around. "We would like to know where," they turned to me, "what is your father's name?"
"Kentaro Chan," I said, trembling.
Then they turned back to face the nurse, "Where is Kentaro Chan?"
The nurse turned back to the half burnt notebook and started flipping through the pages. When she found my father's name, she motioned for us to follow; we did. We reached the location of my father. He sat up, a dazed look on his face. "Is this him?" they asked me.
"Yes," I answered, swallowing my tears.
"Kentaro Chan, you are under arrest by order of the Japanese Guard!"
My father looked stunned, but I could tell he was fibbing. "What did I do?" my father asked trying to look innocent.
"You killed many people. You killed my friends; you killed Sazukia," I screamed.
He snorted. "Why would I do that?" he asked, getting agitated.
"Just come with us," the guards huffed, suspicious of his response. They hoisted my father to his feet, and then something I could never have dreamed of happened.
He pulled a gun on the guards. "Let me go and no one will get hurt," he growled. Father whipped around and steadied the barrel right in between my eyes. The guards stepped forward.
"Don't move," my father hissed.

Bang!

My father was suddenly cross-eyed, and he fell to the ground; the blood from the body I used to love dripped from his mouth.
"I'm sorry, I couldn't let another life be taken," the guard whispered solemnly.
I nodded. I was numb. I'd just watched my father die. I hobbled around searching faces for one I knew; then I saw her. She was the most gorgeous baby I had ever seen; I continued to stare then I tripped. I looked down to see what I had tripped over. It was my mom, a baby girl cradled in her arms.
"Mommy, you're alive! I missed you!" I exclaimed tears pouring from my eyes. I latched onto her in a grasp no one could break. I began to sob and tell the tales of the last few weeks.

Eight years later.......

" Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear Maskia, Happy Birthday to you!" On this day I turned seventeen, who knew it would be such a horrible day. I walked outside to breath in fresh air and realized in two days it would be my sister Chizuko's birthday and the eighth aniversary of the bombing. Then I realized I had something to do. My sister's grade at school was having a track meet and Chizuko was chosen to represent the bamboo class. I started to make my way over to the dirt track. When I got there, Chizuko saw me and her smile widened. She trotted over to me. "Hey, Maskia," she chirped.
"Hey, are you exited." I asked
"Yes, I am even kinda dizzy," she added.
"Good," I chimed, "I'm going to the bleachers now, Good luck!"
"Thank you," she said gratefully and scampered over to the starting line.
I sat down and then I saw her, it was the girl from the bombing. I could tell it was her from her gorgeous smile. "Hi there." she chimed. Her voice sounded like the angels above were singing.
"Hi," I said nervously. "What's your name? I hope it's as pretty as your face."
She giggled. "My name is Latika."
"Ooh it is pretty," I said shyly. Then I sat down, and she sat next to me.
"Gooooooooooo!" screamed the announcer. The runners were off, including my sister. She was breezing past people. Then it happened, her eyes shut and she fell to the ground. The crowd held their breath as help rushed onto the track. Her teacher picked her limp body up off the field. I stood up, so did Latika. We rushed over to the teacher who was lifting her body into an ambulance. His eyes were closed, and he was shaking his head, not again.
My mother met us at the hospital. We waited awhile until the doctor called us in. "Ms. Chan, I'm afraid your daughter has the A- bomb disease."
My mother dropped to the floor crying, I knelt with her. We cried until the tears ran out. Then we went to comfort Chizuko.

"Honey," my mom said, "you have leukemia."
Chizuko started to cry. "I'm going to die," she whispered through tears. We all were silent, the once cheerful Chizuko was thinking about death.None of us spoke for a very long time. The silence was deafening.
Then the doctor came in. He was very tall and slim. "Miss?" the doctor addressed my mother. "I'm very sorry. Your daughter is very sick. She has only a few days to live."
I felt like the world would come to an end when this little soul went to the land behind the stars. We waited by Chizuko's side late into the night. We watched her sleep. She twitched uncontrollably. It was painful to watch. As she slept, I folded cranes. Legend says that when one thousand paper cranes are folded, they will heal. I had made three- hundred cranes by the time Chizuko opened her eyes.
"The cranes." She said in a trance. " They are gorgeous."
" Thank You." I said grateful she could see them. Her jaw dropped in surprise and she started to hack and wheeze. She started to look pale faced. I jumped into the chair and started folding cranes. My mother screamed and the nurses came rushing in. They put medicine into her IV and she fell asleep. That was the last time I saw Chizuko's eyes. The doctor asked us to leave so they could check her heart. We watched them start to rush around. They brought in the Defibrillator. Hooked it up to her lifeless body and shocked her. She didn't move, she was gone. To the land behind the stars. My little sister Chizuko passed away on her ninth birthday. I still think about her often. I am now sixty-three and have a wife and three children. I wish that my sister was able to be here and see the many beauties of life.

Soccer ~by Danny

I think that soccer is amazingly fun because there are lots of fun games that my friends and I get to play. I get to play with other teams not just my team. I get to travel. Traveling is fun because I get to go to Salt Lake City, Utah and Casper, Wyoming and other places. But the games aren't the only fun part of soccer.

It is fun at practice,too, because I get to play a soccer games against the coaches. If we lose, we have to do 10 crunches. If we win, we get to tell the coaches what we want them to do. Our favorite thing is to make them do butt letters. (It's funny, trust me.)

The best game ever happened when we were playing a game at Salt Lake City. It was two hours long. There were 50 minutes left in the first quarter. We had scored 2 goals and the other team had scored 3 goals. The ref blew the whistle and both teams went to the bench. My team was losing. My coach said, "Okay guys, if you work together, you can score and win."

"OK!" we cheered. "Let's do it!"

Our break was over, and we started playing. We played better than the first quarter. We played for a long time. Then we were down to the last 15 minutes.

I passed the ball to my friend, Juan and he shot. We scored. We were so happy that we stared to sprint all around the field. We ran and celebrated until the ref told us to start the game again. We were tied, and the ref blew the whistle and we started to play. We played until there only 5 minutes left. I had the ball and when I was about to shoot, I got tripped and the ref said it was a penalty. I put the ball on the line then I got ready. The ref blew the whistle and I started to run toward the ball. I shot it extremely hard.

"Goal!!!" screamed my coach. We were all excited! My team got the big gallon of water and poured it on my coach. Then the ref blow the whistle and called it a game.
It was really fun. We got a trophy and some metals. That was the best game I have ever played!!

Olympics ~by Anna

"Aphrodite!"

"Oh, Mom! It was so great!!! I got to meet Cynisca of Sparta; she won two chariot races before me. And then I got money for Papa 'cause I don't know if you saw, but there was a fire at home and he broke his leg. But anyway, I won the pentathlon; that's where I got the mon--”

"O.K. honey. I know you're excited, but stop a moment to breathe, will you!”

"We still have to breathe when we're dead?"

"Well... no. It's just a figure of speech. Now why don't we go have a victory feast for your Pentathlon win, and you can tell me all about your adventure then."

As we walked to our dining room I took in my surroundings. Heaven was different than I had imagined. In the Bible, it said that the roads were made of gold, and nobody was in pain, but it's nothing like that. In truth it looked just like home, except not quite as dreary! My guess is that it looks different to each person.

As soon as we stepped into the magnificent dining hall, the food magically appeared onto the plates, with exactly what we felt like eating! I found my plate with no difficulty and started to dig in. After I had practically inhaled half my plate, I exclaimed, "This food is to die for! Oh wait, too late!"

"I'm guessing you should have looked before you leaped. But don't worry, you get used to being dead." My mother had passed away five years ago when a flood hit the village three kilometers from our grove.

"Oh yeah! I forgot to ask you, how did my dresser survive?"

"Well, I pulled a few strings, and I wanted to help you help your father." She turned to me and said in a more serious voice, "And by the way, I know you don't think Papa loves you, but he does."

"Sure, sure, I'll believe that when flying pigs eat purple olives underwater. So, like I was saying..."


ONE YEAR EARLIER


"Papa, will you pass the lamb?"

"Sure, here you go," he smiled.

As I picked at my leftover fish I queried, "Why so happy?"

"Our farm has just sold our ENTIRE year's harvest to the Olympic Feast!!" he explained after swallowing a mouth full of olives.

"Oh that's wonderful!" During the last four years we sold only the amount of one full harvest. This was big news for us. We ate in silence, each of us immersed in our own thoughts and dreams.

"Soooo. How was school today?" Ever since my mom's death, I'd had to go to school with the boys in my town. She had taught me at home, but now there was no one at home during the day. I could tell he was just trying to make small talk; he had never been good with silence. I loved my dad, but he didn't seem to love me enough to ask me about my school day or really care. I had always been envious of the children whose parents would greet them after school with a big hug, then go and buy them cake with honey and fresh fruit. Instead, I walked the three kilometers back to our grove, did my small pile of homework, then curled up with a scroll and read until Papa got home from the far side of the wood.

"Um, it was fine. I didn't make any new friends though." I had always been shy. I had made only one friend in my entire years here in Tavros, Greece. While I was thinking about my life in the shadowy corner, Papa stood up abruptly, knocking over the lit lantern. We both gasped. Everything seemed to go in slow motion as the lantern fell to the ground, smashed to pieces, and burst into flames.



The fire, evil as Satan himself, licked the table. It lit up, shooting sparks in a matter of seconds. It seemed that the inferno was getting ten times larger every second. Papa flew up the stairs; I thought to get the picture of mama. In reality he did grab the picture, but he also snatched a random set of clothes for the both of us. In the minute it took to get the items, the fire had sprung up the stairwell, amazingly skipping the bottom three steps.

"Jump, Papa! Jump!" And he did.

His leap was flawless, but I wish I could say the same for his landing. He caught one of his feet on the bottom step, and then stumbled into a somersault across the floor. I looked away when I heard a sickening crack. Once I looked back, his leg hung at a ninety degree angle. Papa collapsed onto the tile floor.

"Papa!!" I yelled as I sprinted over. Just as time had slowed down, it seemed speed into double time. My father was moaning in agony. What am I going to do? I ran around frantically trying to think. One thing I knew was I had to get him out of the burning house. "The fire's getting closer! Do you think you can walk?" I asked him frantically.

Papa nodded his head slowly with his teeth gritted. I attempted to help him to his feet. Once standing, he immediately fell back down again. Lucky for us, I was strong from a life of lifting crates of olives. I silently prayed that I was strong enough to lift him. I bent over and heaved. Astonishingly, he floated off the ground. Slowly, but surely, we made our way outside and clear of the blaze. I hadn't realized how hot it had been indoors until the cool night air wafted over me. It was a relief to get away from the sweltering heat.

Suddenly a thought struck me and I again ran inside my burning abode. "Our safe is under the stairs." I was thinking out loud, but I didn't care. I had to get to the safe to get our gold for a doctor. I bolted to the room under the stairs. When I opened the door, the flames catapulted out as if they were trying to escape as well. "AHHHH!!!!!" I shrieked as I darted out of the way of the roaring blaze. "I don't think a doctor will want to help us at 1:30 A.M," I said, trying to figure out how to get to the safe.

Suddenly, an idea sprang into my head. If a doctor wouldn't splint his leg, then I would. It wasn't the best idea, or smartest idea, or safest idea for that matter. But it would have to do.

I raced outside to get a piece of wood. Luckily, a stream ran a little ways away from our house. I sprinted down a fair sized hill to the little brook. Unfortunately, all of the smoke from home was catching up to me. I was wheezing when I reached the water. I'd bet the wet wood would help ease the pain as well as keep his leg straight, I thought. I frantically searched the dark, moist ground. "Ahhh!" I came up dripping and freezing. "Owwww!!!!! Hey a good piece of driftwood!” Once I removed the stick from my bottom, I sprinted back to my dad. My main reason for sprinting was to get back to Papa. My second reason was to try to dry off. I held my breath as I ran back inside the burning house. I went to where Papa had dropped the clothes. My lungs started burning as I ripped off strips of cloth from his shirt. Again, I ran into the night to where my injured father lay. I snapped his leg back into position, despite his screams. I winced as he shrieked. I placed the wood behind his leg, wrapped the strips of cloth around it, and tied the knots needed. "Not perfect, but it'll have to do for now," I said gently. I had absolutely no clue how to give him proper treatment, but I could worry about that later.


"Remember gentleman ... and Aphrodite, the human body can go for weeks without food, but can only go for a maximum of three days without water. Now have a good weekend!" It seemed like only yesterday that my teacher had said that. Oh yeah, it was yesterday. We were learning about survival. Quickly I announced, "Papa! We have to go find clean water. Our well is filled with ash up to the brim!

"Do...it...tomorrow. Need...to...sleep," and with that, he slipped off into a nightmarish sleep, full of pain for his leg and sorrow for his deceased wife and now burning home. Luckily, it was a warm summer evening and the heat of the flames warmed us, too.

I awoke to the morning light, shivering. What happened last night? I thought in wonder as I looked back on what used to be a five room house around an elaborate courtyard. It was a pile of ashes. I glanced around and spotted Papa on the ground a mere fifteen feet away. I began to crawl toward him thinking of nothing but how to get help.

An idea struck me. I abruptly stopped. "Papa, I have an idea!"

He grunted through his half-asleep pain.

"I could enter the Olympics! I've always been a good runner, and I bet I could throw a javelin and a discus!"

"Girls...not...allowed," he struggled to enunciate.



I moved Papa to a safe place to rest and went to explore the fire that had at that point burned itself out. Miraculously, my dresser was sitting on the top of the rubble undamaged, in mint condition with the exception of a few burn and scratch marks. For some odd reason, I had always kept my shoes in the bottom drawer of my dresser. "Papa! My dresser survived!!! I still have clothes and shoes and everything!" I yelled. Knowing that one dresser endured the unbearable heat, I looked for other surviving belongings. I found nothing, nothing but ashes. Unfortunately I was much, much, much smaller than Papa was, so he would definitely need clothes. Suddenly, I said aloud, “I could dress up like a boy, change my name temporarily to Aristotle, and enter!!" I felt pretty smart right then, despite the nervousness eating away at my stomach. To me it was the best idea in the world, but I had yet to learn what tragedy awaited me at the Altis wall.

My long legs barely touched the ground. This stadion was mine. I could almost touch the trophy, almost hear the praise!

Whoosh!

Oh no!! NO! I won't let him beat me! I didn't think it was possible to run faster than I was, but I did. My feet flew to the finish line. I didn't know if I had won the dash or not, but apparently I had because all of a sudden, I was compressed between hundreds upon hundreds of people! The sudden metal in my hands felt wonderful. I knew I could win this. Papa would be so proud of me! He couldn't ignore me this time. I loved the feeling of glory, but I had to go train for wrestling, which I had to admit, I wasn't too excited about.

I pushed and shoved my way out. The people finally let me out of the throbbing crowd.



Back in my tent, my Papa joined me. "A few more wins like that, and you'll have it done!"

"I'm not sure if I can win wrestling," I said nervously.

"Don't worry about it! I know you'll do fine."

"I wish I was as confident as you are."

Stepping out into the sand pit was the scariest thing I had ever done. I turned to the crowd, bowed, then looked into the opposite corner to see my opponent. He. Was. Massive. By the look of it he had to weigh 300 lbs, and he was about three feet wide. This was going to be my death, I was sure of it. Thankfully, I wasn't very good at predicting the future, and I lived to see another day.

Faster than I had hoped for, the bell tolled and my own personal devil began inching toward me. All I remember after that was seeing a great, giant fist coming straight for me. The next thing I knew, I was staring groggily up at my Papa and the referee. I hadn't won, but luckily I had survived.

My next event was the long jump. That was my next mountain to cross. Luckily, it had something to do with running. Fortunately, there was one day that I had free to practice the rest of the events. I was carrying the halteres to the starting line. BOOM! And I was off! I was running, but the sand pit didn't seem like it was getting any closer! All of a sudden, the line came. I threw the halteres over the sand; the momentum almost pulled my arms out of their sockets. I flew so far I actually leaped over the entire sand pit and on to the grass. It was a really hard landing, but it was worth it.

Again, the crowd rushed to my side, and front, and back and other side. This time the people were taller, and I could barely breathe! "Please let me out! I need to practice," I gasped. Right then and there, the people lifted me up and carried me to my tent! It was AMAZING!

"Papa! I think I can win this!!"

"Good. My leg is killing me."

Is that all you can think about when I'm risking my life for you?

The amentum was making my hand sweat so bad I thought I would drop the javelin. My first throw was, not so great. My second went about 50 whole meters. My third launch went 70! I hoped my fourth, and fifth throws would be better, though.

It turned out that my 4th and 5th throws were much, much worse. The 4th got to 44 meters. The 5th, 38. Luckily, only my 70 meter counted. As it turned out, I won that event, also! The feeling of success wore off the 2nd time. However, the crowd picking me up hadn't gotten old yet.

The 4 ½ pound disc felt like lead in my hands. It felt like there was another 40 1/2 weight in my stomach. I spun 360 degrees, and then released the discus. I waited for the judge to give clearance. Then, I walked to the scoreboard to see how far it went and was astounded to see it had gone 70 meters also!

At the end of the event, it was me against Dionysus, who had the same score as I did. Luckily, my second best score was 55, while his was 53 meters. I won!

As soon as the cheering started, I went into shock. I was in a trance the whole time I was getting my money, and trophy, and my fame. I had done it. Me, Aphrodite, had won the pentathlon! Unfortunately, after that, I got cocky.


ONE YEAR LATER

By this time, Papa's leg had gotten better. And I was Aristotle once again. This time it was a little more risky, though. After all, it had been a whole year, and I was starting to resemble a girl.

Because of my earlier win, I could almost feel it in my bones. I was going to triumph once again. I just knew it. This chariot race was in the bag. I had been able to buy my very own chariot and horse. I named him Midnight Star because of his jet-black hair everywhere along his body. Everywhere except on the top of his head, where there was a star shaped white area. I really loved that old boy. Plus, I'd gotten to know him very well over the winter. He really loved strawberries.

Ahhh!! I thought as I wildly spun around a corner. This will be my death, I'm sure of it. Oh dear god, help me! But unfortunately, He wasn't listening that day. And this time, my prediction was right.

On the next turn, the chariot slid out from underneath her, and she went tumbling down to the ground. Only to get trampled by the oncoming racers. Her mind and soul slowly floated to heaven where she met her mom, who was waiting with open arms.


BACK ON EARTH


Once the race ended, her father hurried out to determine her fate. As soon as he saw the extent of the injuries, he burst out sobbing. Aphrodite didn't see this though and she would not know that he loved her until her he joined them in heaven.


IN HEAVEN


"Thank you honey. That was an amazing story."

"Thanks for listening Mom!"

"Of course sweetie and I know your father still loves you, now more than ever. Now let’s go home."

"Okay, I believe you. And home sounds good. I'm beat....And mom?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

Gladiators ~by Gideon

When we got to the barracks, we were given a lecture. After listening ot the elder Spartan trainers lecture it seemed like if we did one thing wrong, we would be beaten until we were purple. Immediately after the lecture, we were sent on a long run . We ran for what seemed forever, but when I think back it was most likely only one mile. After the run, we dueled with wooden swords and wrestled, which was really entertaining and also frightening because some of the kids were a lot bigger than me. Every kid learned to duel and wrestle at the barracks. That was just what we had to do. I wrestled Jason, and some kid who I did not know dueled Sparcus. Jason had me on the ground in about five seconds. The kid that Sparcus dueled was about my size and got the wind knocked out of him in moments . The kid was really angry at Sparcus but couldn't do anything about it until he could breathe naturally. Every kid dueled and wrestled that day. The most exciting thing that happened was that a couple kids were thrown on to their heads which caused them to forget what had happened. Some thought this was entertaining while others thought it was scary. Most of our life had been enjoyable so far but everyone knew how hard it was about to become. We were told later that evening by kids who were almost done with training how much bloodier and scary it would get. They told us stories about the duels and warned us we would start using real spears and swords. This scared me because I was barely able to survive with wooden swords. The next couple of years would be very difficult.

After a month or so we began to receive less food from the mess hall. We were starving. We needed to eat. At about 12 o clock at night we would sneak out and steal from the market this was the only way we could survive. My friends and I thought they didn't give us enough food because the cooks were too lazy but in fact the elders just wanted us to get used battle conditions . The lecture on first day of training made it clear that if you were caught stealing you would be whipped for being so stupid as to steal. In the moment we didn't think about the consequences all we thought about was food . One night when we were out we heard screaming. Kids in another pack had been caught stealing food, they were beaten by there captain who was angry to find out that his training did not teach stealth . Jason ,Spacus and I now knew for sure, while watching the whipping, that we were being tested and that was why we weren’t getting very much food and drink. The captain beat the kids form the pack with a whip. Every time one of them was whipped a there would be a spurt of blood like a malfunctioning water fountain. They were almost in tears I think everyone felt bad for them and I think it scared everyone too. No one went out the next night to steal from the market.

I was so tired from not eating because when you don’t have enough food in your stomach it is hard to do pretty much anything. I couldn’t even sleep. I would lay awake making a plan to fill my belly. I decided not to attend the ceremony where we sacrifice to the Gods. Instead I decided to sleep and regain my energy and to steal something good from the market. I told Jason and Sparcus my plan, they think I will be caught and beaten. I told Sparcus to dress up in my robes so I wont be caught and he agreed.

The day after the sacrifice I went to the mess hall with Jason and Sparcus. All of the elders praised us for being very religious kids and announced we should get special privileges. They announced we don't have to go running. Instead we were able to go spar which is my favorite thing in the world and a priviledge. However, the one thing I didn't know is that we were about to use real swords and spears for the first time.

After, being praised by the elders, our elders let us have a day that all we do is fight. I fought a kid I really didn’t know. Within seconds, I had the tip of my sword at his throat. There was terror in his eyes he said "since when are you good at fighting?" Jason and Sparcus were crying with laughter because the kids expression was pretty hilarious. He looked like he was going to start crying but he finally got up. After that little battle there were a couple of really gory fights. Jason was fighting a kid with a spears. He hit the kid in the head with the shaft of the spear, the kid then fell onto his hands and knees and then Jason brought the tip of the spear straight down into the kid’s hand. If you can imagine a bottle of wine exploding you should be able to picture this. The kids hand was stuck in the ground cause the spear had gone straight through his hand and beyond his hand, several inches in the ground. Everyone was speechless except the kid who was screaming "take it out please!!!! " Within seconds Jason pulled the spear out and the kid had left and gone to the infirmary. In the past Jason and I would always duel but he was not dueling today and seemed somewhat down. Instead I dueled Sparcus who's reflexes seemed sort of slow. Still he was very good he almost cut my head off if hadn't ducked I wouldn't be here today. I lunged and stabbed at him but he sidestepped and I missed him by inches. He slashed down at my feet and I jumped back. Sparcus had a creepy grin on his face he looked like he wanted to stab me as many times as he could within the next few minutes without chopping me in half. He started to sprint at me I did the first thing that came to mind. I threw my sword like a dagger it went soaring and it hit Sparcus square in the jugular. Everyone was slightly impressed but they were also frightened. Several were muttering "how did he do that". It seemed that the world had stopped for me I just put a sword through my best friends throat. We all have been told by the elders that you can only live for a few minutes when your throat has been slit. My sword was still in Sparcus. I walked over to Sparcus I felt like I had no emotions. I wasn't in tears, I wasn't happy, I wasn't sad, I was just there. When I got to Sparcus he was as pale as a ghost. I was suddenly overcome with emotions. I was starting to feel extremely horrible then Sparcus whispered something to me " you fought well" then he was gone. I put my foot on his chest and pulled my sword out of his throat there was a blast of blood then it was over, Sparcus was dead. The boy who helped me out more than anyone was dead. I was going to have to overcome what had happened that day. I was changed from that day forward.

After many years of training to be a warrior I became a captain and lead the Spartans into many battles. I was one of the thousands that fought at Troy. I became what Sparcus wanted for me. Jason died at Troy he was my favorite he was killed by the Trogens spears. He gave his life for so many people he was a true hero.

In the end plenty of us survived even though my best friends were dead. I noticed that I have come a long way from being the kid who almost gets beaten with wooden swords.

Samurai ~by Aidan

Keyoko, a thirteen year old boy, lay in bed in a deep, deep sleep. At midnight, a group of four ninja soldiers crept through his open window. Dressed in all black, they blended with the night. Their hoods covered their heads, leaving them only a small slit to see through. They were silent. After making sure the family was sound asleep, they picked Keyoko up, careful they did not wake him up and took him from his bed. Leaping through the open window, they landed on the road and dashed away to Hideyoshi's golden palace.

Keyoko woke up in a bed in a room he didn't recognize. Scared he said, "What is going on? Why am I here?"He was trying to figure out what room he was in. The room was large, unlike his room at his home. He would soon learn he was in Hideyoshi's golden palace.

Suddenly a man entered his room whom he did not recognize. He was trying to figure out who it was. He did not have to wonder long as he realized, it was the grand emperor Hideyoshi. He was an old looking man, about 45-55 years old. Keyoko recognized him from the pictures that were posted in every town. Hideyoshi said, "We have decided that you are going to be the next samurai legend of Japan."

Shocked, Keyoko said, "Why me?"

“Your great grandfather was the hero in battle on the island of Kyushu where he defeated the terrifying Koreans. You will some day take my place as shogun of the Japanese army!" said emperor Hideyoshi.
Keyoko was shocked. He had not known his grandfather was in the battle of Kyushu! Keyoko was frightened, he was wondering how his parents were feeling and how sad and scared they must be. What should his next move toward becoming a samurai be? He wondered at what life had in store for him.


~ Training ~

The next day his training to become a samurai began. He battled other young boys. Four times a week they would go outside with wooden swords and battle each other. And during the winter, they would take long hikes through snowy fields to build their endurance. Slowly, he became better at the skills he practiced. However, he never stopped missing his family, he gradually became accustomed to his new life.

Eight years later, the emperor came to him and said, “Your training is complete. You are ready to become a samurai.”

Keyoko was pleased with what he had just heard! Yet he was also very scared about becoming a samurai. Not knowing what would happen to him, he thought, What shall I do?

Some years later Keyoko was granted the military rank of general for all of his hard work and effort in his training. Then, the emperor asked for Keyoko to visit him. The emperor announced, "Our land is in danger. Tokugawa's army may come to invade Japan. You are our only hope if we are to win the battle against the powerful army.”
Keyoko thought , What am I going to do? Will I survive this horrible battle? Will I be able to defeat Tokugawa the great general? Should I stay to fight or should I go back home and give up? The emperor said I was ready so why should I leave after all the training I have gone through? He quickly dismissed all his self-doubt and said, "I shall I should stay and fight. For if I don’t, we could lose the battle. I will stay to defend my people and my country!”

Every day Keyoko would go to meditate with emperor Hideyoshi. They would do this for half an hour. Meditating would relax them and calm their bodies. Hideyoshi told him that the samurai would do this before every battle to drive away all fear and uneasiness on the battlefield. After each meditation session, Keyoko felt more and more sure of himself.


~ On the Battlefield ~

Keyoko's army was at a huge disadvantage with regard to weaponry. All they had were samurai and swords. The opposing army had soldiers and guns. Keyoko saw men dying all around him. People were being stabbed and shot. He began to fear they may not win. They fell back behind a hill to a little trench in the ground. Then the archers fired a barrage of arrows into the air. Some were even on fire. Soon the archers ran out of arrows, and they all pulled out their swords and led a charge against the enemy.
Keyoko's army had almost won, but they were dangerously low on troops. Keyoko's army had about two hundred and fifty troops, Tokugawa's army has about five hundred troops left. Later, more archers had came with more arrows. With three last shots of arrows, Tokugawa's army had about two hundred troops left, and Keyoko's army had about one hundred troops left. The battle was still raging. Keyoko's army had commenced one final charge; they obliterated about half of Tokugawa's army losing all but twenty of his own men. The odds were at one hundred to eighty troops on the battlefield in favor of Keyoko. Then, one hundred men in Keyoko's army came in with spears. They killed about three-fourths of the enemy army. They ended up defeating the rest of the enemy army, and Tokugawa was forced to surrender. The battle was won.

After the battle, Keyoko won the respect of his country and learned Bushido. Hideyoshi had claimed that Keyoko had indeed learned Bushido. Keyoko was pleased by the news he had heard. He asked Hideyoshi if he could go see his family, and he agreed. But Hideyoshi told him to hurry back because they were going to have a celebratory meal in honor of his bravery and courage on the battle field.

Because he believed in himself, he became shogun of Japanese army and took Hideyoshi's place.

After that had happened, he went home to see his family again. It had been about ten or thirteen years since he had last seen his family. He gave his parents all hugs. His parents were so happy to see him that they were crying in his arms. He told his parents about everything that had happened since he had been gone from his home. He told them about the training he had done. He told them about meeting Hideyoshi, and all the warriors he had met. Then he told them about the battle against Tokugawa's army. He told them about how so many brave men had died trying to defeat his army. But his parents were so proud that he had beaten them. And that he had become shogun of the Japanese army. He invited his parents to come live in the palace with Hideyoshi and himself, and they agreed to live in the palace with their very brave son and the emperor who had found him in the first place. If Hideyoshi had never found him, the battle may not have been won, and Tokugawa would have taken over and all hope would be lost, not just for the army but for everyone. They thanked Hideyoshi for all he had done for their son. They were still a little angry that he had kidnapped their son, but they were just glad that he was alive and safe. Sadly many years later, Emperor Hideyoshi passed away. But then, Keyoko became the Emperor.

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Hatshepsut ~by Amelia

   The dew on the fully blossomed flowers was shimmering in the light. Hatshepsut strolled along the dirt path, feeling the same way she felt every day. Today was just normal. Like always, the sun god hadn't forgotten to raise the sun. The gardeners worked joyfully trimming here and there. As she passed, however, they bowed deeply with great respect. Hatshepsut was puzzled. Why did they bow? I am a girl; people only bow to pharaohs. 

 

   Hatshepsut opened her closed eyes; it was a still very dark. Just a dream, she realized.  She had been in her room the whole time. But, the dream seemed so real, she could not discount it.  She knew the dream was from the God of Pharaohs, Amen. This was his way of showing her something...but what? Hatshepsut laid her head on her pillow. She was still immensely tired so had no problem falling back to sleep. 

 

    Hatshepsut opened her eyes and sat up in her bed. The morning air was filled with the sounds of laughing children. She thought about her dream; what could it mean? I can not be thinking about my dreams! There are other more important things to be worried about, Hatshepsut thought. Today was not the day to be thinking about these type of things, for on this day Tuthmose II, her half brother and husband, would have a meeting with the generals of his army. What usually happened was they discussed which place they were going to raid. She was nervous. When they had these meetings, the next thing she knew Tuthmose would leave, attacking a country in hopes of expanding his empire. Hatshepsut wanted to know where they were going. She wanted to be included in the decisions.

      After the decisions had been made, Hatshepsut moped down the stairs to her friend Mutoket who was in the flower-filled garden. "Tuthmose is going off again," Hatshepsut said despondently.

    Mutoket muttered."Hatshepsut are you worried again?  I thought he wasn't important to you."

    "He isn't, but I am worried I won't be allowed to rule Egypt if he is killed," Hatshepsut admitted.  She thought of what would happen if she had the chance. 

    "Hatshepsut, don't waste your time on this thought. They're not going let you rule Egypt; you're a female," Mutoket reminded her.

    "You're right Mutoket; I shouldn't  even consider this thought."

     Out of nowhere Tuthmose came striding in, his horse and chariot following closely.  "I'm leaving now. I'll be back in eleven moons. My son is in charge until I get back, understand?"

    Hatshepsut nodded.  His son was by 7 months old.  How would he rule?  Who would listen?  Suddenly, Hatshepsut had an idea.  She did not knowing if she was joyful, angry, or sad. The dream was from Amun. Maybe it as an unfulfilled prophecy.   This is my chance, Hatshepsu thought.

    Then, Tuthmose turned around and galloped into the sandy desert.

 

 

    After the 20th moon, Tutmose had still not returned. Hatshepsut began to suspect what she would soon learn to be true.  She sat upon her silk sheeted bed. There was nothing to do, so there was plenty of time to question her dream. Why her?  Why was Amun giving her the dream? What could... 

    "Hatshepsut?" the woman's voice paused, "Tuthmose.... is dead."

    Hatshepsut sat stunned, still taking in the information. She jumped from her bed. She is lying. Tuthmose is not dead, Hatshepsut thought. Hatshepsut ran to the door. Prove it, she was about to say. But standing there was Mutoket, her best friend Mutoket, who never, ever lied to her.

    "Where is he?" Hatshepsut asked.

    "In the garden," Mutoket answered."You won't cry will you?"

    "No." Hatshepsut hurried down to the garden.  The torches lit the fountains turning the water into glistening drops of light. Crickets chirped. How could this night be so peaceful when things have changed so much? Hatshepsut wondered. She heard footsteps. Who could it be. Mutoket stepped onto the large path.

    "I'm sorry. I didn't startle you, did I?" she asked.

    "It's fine," Hatshepsut answered.  Where is he? Hatshepsut needed to know.  She needed to see his body before she'd believe the news. Then she heard voices from the patio.

    "How is Tuthmose III going to rule, he is but a child?" a man asked.

    "Maybe Hatsheput can rule Egypt in his place until he is old enough," the woman's voice wondered aloud.
    "A typical response from a woman, only a male can be pharaoh," the man said.
    "Well, who else could fill the slot?" asked the woman. 

    Hatshepsut walked quickly along the path towards the voices. 

    In the firelight Hatshepsut could make out the faces of her father, Pharaoh Tuthmose I, and her mother, queen Ahmose. In the shadows beside them, she saw her dead husband, Tuthmose II.

    "Hatshepsut," her father addressed her. Hatshepsut simply glanced at him; then her eyes went back to her husband.  TuthmoseI went back to arguing with Ahmose. 

    "Why not Hatshepsut?  She has been a coleader for years," her mother said.

    "I told you, women can not be Pharaohs," then his father added, "we'll just have Tuthmose III be pharaoh." Her parents keeped arguing without noticing that Hatshepsut was still there. Then Hatshepsut had the strangest idea ever. This was something she never thought of. Hatshepsut and Mutoket left Hatshepsuts parents to argue in the dim torch light. Maybe there was a way she could be pharaoh. She would try for her mother and for herself.  

 

 

    Hatshepsut was on her morning walk along the Nile River when she had an idea. Her father had said that only a man could become a pharaoh, so she would dress as a man. This would convince her father and the public that she was the next ruler. Hatshepsut went up to the room where Tuthmose II slept and went to his closet full of men's garments. She took four of his garments and headdresses. Making sure no one was there, she gathered up all the items and headed back down to her room. Once she was there, she hid them under her bed just as  her servant Aumeeza knocked on the door. Aumeeza was an eleven year old servant, who had been with Hatshepsut since she was born.

    "Aumeeza, I'm glad your here,"Hatshepsut said,"I need you to fetch Mutoket for me." Without saying a word, Aumeeza left. She was back with Mutoket quickly. 

    "Not that I'm not happy to be here," Mutoket told Hatshepsut, "why do you needed me?"

    "Well, I'm planning on .... ," Hatshepsut started to answer when she noticed Aumeeza was still there."You may go," she told her. Aumeeza disappeared into the hall,the door closed behind her.

    "What were you going to say?" Mutoket asked. Mutoket looked exhausted. There were big purple and black bags under her eyes.  Life in ancient Egypt was difficult for people, unless they were royalty.

    "When I was on my walk, I had a plan," Hatshepsut paused, "If I were to wear the cloths of a pharaoh, I might be able to convince the people including my father that I am pharaoh."

    "That's a great plan," Mutoket said sourly. Hatshepsut sensed the bitterness in her voice. "Is that all you needed?"

    "No, I need you to tell me how much I resemble a man in these clothes," Hatshepsut took the clothes from under the bed.

    "Those are from Tuthmose," Mutoket had obviously recognized the clothing. Hatshepsut said nothing. She took a garment from the pile of silk and walked over to the extra room slipping her right sleeve off as she went. The soft cashmear fabric brushed against her legs as she took off her dress. She gathered up the traditional silk outfit of a Pharaoh and slipped it onto her body. The beautiful, intricate design of the fabric held many colors: red, green, blue, and gold all woven into shapes that pleased the gods. Then she took one of her gold chest plates that stretched over her slender sholders to her back. There were many gems placed perfectly to create a picture of two lizards. Gold shimmered off of the crown she took from Tuthmose's room. The crown also had gems; it was heavy and beautiful.

    She walked out of the room and Mutoket gasped.  She bowed and said, "You are a pharaoh."

    To make her people believe she was a man, Hatshepsut knew she would  have to work hard. First, she would wear a fake beard to look like all the male pharaohs. Luckily, she had taken some when she stole the assortment of clothing items from Tuthmose. Second, she would convince her cabinet that she was the all powerful daughter of Amum. This was somewhat true, she had received the dream from him; he obviously wanted this. Third, she needed a grand speech.  She had already made a speech and was going to present it in a few hours. Her speech told how women should be treated just like men. She had already passed all of her ideas to her father. He approved her plans with a little pleading from her mother.

    Hatshepsut stood in front of all the people of the royal court. A mixture of feelings went through her bloodstream. She felt excitement, fright, and nervous all at once. Hatshepsut started her speech.

    "As you all know, only men have been pharaoh for a very long time now,"Hatshepsut started. Her words came smoothly from her lips only because of the many days of practice. She went from the women's rights to her ending which explained what she would do if she were pharaoh.  Each word sounded as beautiful as the next. The sun god was bringing down the sun for the night when she was done. This will make me pharaoh for sure, she thought.  

     

                

    "How could they not like my speech?" Hatshepsut questioned her father. There was a look of complete despair on her face.

    "Hatshepsut your speech was about women becoming pharaoh's," Tuthmose I answered." You do realize that the law states that only a man can become a pharaoh?" he added.

    "Yeah, but...," Hatshepsut was cut off by her father.

    "But what Hatshepsut? The court would change their law?"

    "Father, don't you have the power to change that law?" Hatshepsut asked.

    "I do, but I don't want to change that law; I stand by it." Her father seemed sure. There was no changing his mind. She would just have to do this herself. Wait, Hatshepsut said to herself,  I still have the temple plans.  Hatshepsut ran to her room at almost lightening speed. On the elegant wooden table that sat in a corner were the palace designs. She grabbed them and raced down to the first floor. People watched her leave the palace, and some made a face. She burst into the room where the court members usually spent their free time. It was a dingy hot room with many chairs. They had silk and lace pillows on every chair.

    "Hatshepsut," the man named Tutoo addressed her curtly.

    "Hello," Hatshepsut greeted."I'm sorry, but I will not rest until I'm Pharaoh." Hatshepsut read the disappointment in Tutoo's face."I must show you my designs."

    "Please don't waste our time,"Tutoo responded. Hatshepsut laid out her many drawings of the palace.

    "I'm planning to build the temple in Deir el-Bahri," Hatshepsut informed them. "And i'll name it Djeser-Djeseru. Then she showed them some of her other plans for Egypt. She had many ideas, old plans, new plan. The court members seemed intrigued.

     "Hatshepsut give us a month and you will either be a pharaoh or not,"Tutoo said. Hatshepsut's heart soared. Now she had a chance.    

 

    It had been five months since she had talked to the court, three months after the decision date. The court members had told her that she would be the pharaoh and that they expected many of her ideas put into action. Her ceremony happened on a very sunny day.  Many people from all over Egypt had came to see her. Streamers were dancing in the air. They were many different colors: red, green, and the all important gold. It was a day she utterly enjoyed. After all, this was her life-long dream. As soon as all the ceremonial events where done, she went to the garden. Every single thing was like her dream. The plants were glimmering, and the flowers were in full bloom. it was a beautiful rainbow of color, and as she strolled by, a gardener bowed deeply with the same amount of respect as in her dream. Now she could live the rest of her days peacefully knowing she had completed her life-long dream.

    Hatshepsut died in 1482 B.C.. She had been pharaoh for twenty-two years. After her death, her stepson Tuthmose III tried to wipe her from history, but he didn't succeed. 

Mexican Revolution ~by Julio

Michoacan, Mexico, 1909:   

    As the smell of gasoline fills the air, the bland walls tell no story. The cobbled streets of the central square are packed with people minding their own business and street marketers trying to make a living.
    People sit with melancholy waiting for a miracle.  Some people think that poverty is a sad, terrible thing but I see it as a good thing not because people are poor, but because poverty is one who slowly and secretly brings people together. Aside from poverty, it’s not all sad. People smile and laugh with the people at their side.
    There are also places to escape the crowded streets; you just have to find the empty ones that are filled with rich, inviting air. They are the peaceful ones, they are the ones that help you relax. These streets are not so rare, for they are everywhere.  These streets pave the way to escape for all who choose to follow.
                                                            ...

    On my way home from school, I saw Xochil working in the sugar cane fields. When she saw me approaching, she said in the sweetest voice, "Serapio, I want to go to school." 
    In return I told her, "Some day, my dear friend, I'll have enough money to send you to school. I'll have enough to send you for your whole life if you want!" 
    "Maybe if this year's harvest is good, we'll have enough for at least half a year," she said in that same dreamy voice.
    In my seven-year-old mind, I already knew that we wouldn't.  As young as I was, I already knew that she would not go to school.  So, I quickly departed to do my work. I truly wanted to help her go to school, but alas, I didn't know how to make the money.  People in my country of Mexico didn't have a surplus of money for loans. Even if they did, who would give it to a feeble seven-year-old in order to send his friend to school? 


    The next day was Christmas. It's odd how everybody can be happy on just one day; but they are. I've always wondered about the significance of this particular day. My parents told me that it's Christ's birthday. I wondered why he is worshiped. Would he want to be worshiped? This leads to my theory of church. Some people went every Saturday or Sunday just to rid themselves of the sins that they had committed over the week. Then, they would sin in the same way following week.  Despite my beliefs about Christmas, I still got Xochil a present. 
                                        
January, 1910:
    Today Xochil and I were walking home from the sugar cane fields when suddenly we heard the loud blast of a rifle. I thought it was my father in his drunken state. But then I saw five people mounted on horses going towards the house. Standing next to me was Xochil, who had froze with fear. I grabbed her by the arm and together we hid in the the fields watching the strange men.  What are they doing, we wondered as we watched. The strange men broke the door of the small house open and a few minutes they came out dragging the women and restraining her while pushing the men out of the house. The men threw Xochil's and my parents onto their knees all facing the same direction. Then one of the men stood forward and said, "Your land will help us achieve our goal."
    "And what makes you think I'll let you use my land?" my father boldly replied in a raspy, angry voice.

    The strange man in a blue somewhat Napoleon like army suit simply said, "You won't."  As he walked away, he nodded to his men. The four other men aimed their firearms at Xochil's and my parents. At almost at the same time, they fired.

    Xochil burst in tears. She ran towards our parents' executioners nearly knocking one of them down, she started beating his chest. But he was impervious to her blows. He grabbed her by the arms and threw her on the ground. Xochil stayed sobbing on the ground.
    As the man who ordered our parents to be killed walked passed me, I stared at him, tears rolling down my cheeks. All he did was stare back at me. I looked back to see him walk away with his men following behind him and then disappear into the sugar cane field.
    I turned and walked toward the still crying Xochil.  She had collapsed next to her parents' bodies. I grabbed her arm and helped her up. We walked away not knowing where we going or what we were going to do.  All we knew is that we had each other.

    Present day:
        I still remember my parents' death. I still remember the assassins, which include Madero's, Emiliano Zapata's, and Fransisco Villa's. Many memories of my past dwell in my mind....
 

by ~ Julio   

Forgiveness ~by Fuller

   As  Petyr  waited in Dr.Ross's office, he started to shake unexpectedly. He was reliving his terrible past.  His breathing was labored, hard. His heart was beating rapidly, and once again he saw his past playback in his head. He watched as his best friend, his mother, little brother, and sister were taken to the gas chamber like so many others. Just as suddenly, Petyr came out of his trance. He started to cry and whispered to himself, "Why  did some people survive the Holocaust while others were taken by the hand of death? Why? Why?"

    Petyr understood he was haunted by his past.  He wondered how to stop the haunting trances and nightmares. He had read and studied about this and was stuck. Was the only way through forgiveness?  He thought, I know I should forgive, but how do I forgive the Nazis? He realized, I want to forgive, but I can't. I can't forgive for the deaths of my sister, brother, mother and best friend.

    As Petyr was deep in his thoughts, Joshua walked into Dr. Ross' office, and waiting for his appointment, he looked for a place to sit. Finally, he took a seat in a chair next to another man.  The man turned his teary face toward him, and Joshua was startled. He felt as though he remembered that face, but his memories showed a slimmer, more terrified face - a face that was terrified of him. He ignored these unwanted memories. He finally offered his handkerchief and the man gratefully accepted it.  As he reached for the handkerchief, his sleeve slid up, exposing a tattooed number.  Joshua gasped.

    Petyr, still teary eyed, noticed the man's startled face.  Why would anybody be startled by me? If anyone should be startled it should be me, he thought.  Then he looked down to where the man's gaze pointed and saw the tattooed number that the Nazis gave him in 1942. It read 6783.

    Petyr was unnerved by this man who is now staring at him with a mix of hatred and apprehension. Suddenly, the man introduced himself,  "I am Joshua.  I wish to hear your story of the war...the great war." 

    Petry shook his hand.  At first he didn't want to talk, but then he though it might help his emotions.  So Petyr started telling his story from the beginning; he told his story.

    "I guess I have to start at the beginning. I was born in Amsterdam,Holland in 1928; we had a simple life.  My father was the shoemaker and my ma kept the house clean, cooking traditional meals in the traditional way. My sister, brother, and I went to school. Our life was great, surrounded by the love of a family and friends...then the worst possible circumstance happened.  

    "Hitler was elected the Chancellor Germany and soon most of Europe was in his grasp. We all know that now. We had to go into hiding in a small cell with five other people.  There were no jobs, and we depended on only two people to bring us food.  They were the only people we could trust; we were scared, scared of walking outside, scared of people seeing our faces. As I sat at the small table one night, my father announced, 'We heard today that Hitler has opened two more concentration camps... and he is targeting Jews, gypsies, homosexuals, the disabled, and so many more people. People he sees as not worthy.  This includes us,' he said sternly to my family, including my little sister who even at three years old understood. The camps are called Auschwitz and Bergen-Belson. We have to be more careful. We cannot be so loud.  We cannot be found or the fate will be terrible,' he muttered. We heard about terrors that we couldn't believe. This information came to us via a newspaper called the Polish Underground.  The stories didn't seem to be possible, but later I figured out the truth that they were right.

    "We stayed quiet for three years.  For three years, I was calm and silent.  We were safe until one day. The day my little sister looked out the window, around the blinds; she saw them.  She saw the dark green uniforms with the r-r-r-red, white, and black patch," Petyr whimpered at the memory.  Even now the vision scared him.  He continued in a scared, trembling voice, "That was the day we all feared.  She looked directly into the face, the eyes of a Nazi."

    Petry sniffed and blew his nose. Joshua silently encouraged him to go on.  Petry shook his head and continued, "It was a time of fear. You could feel it as the dogs barked and the men yelled.  I was pushed, pushed into the cattle cart.  That cart still makes forgiveness impossible. There was barely room to breathe.  I remember the little babies who were silent when they should have been crying.  Where they dead or did they know?  What I couldn't know was that the silence of the babies foretold our future. While we fought with our dreams of escape, they had silently slipped away in their mother's arms.  There were times I wished it would have been like that for me.  
    During the trip, we never slept.  We didn't dare doze.  When we would stop at each station, the whip...the crack of the whip against the cattle car would scare us.  They did everything to scare us, and it worked. Finally,we stopped. When the doors opened, I remember thinking, This is truly the end; it is.


    "A Nazi soldier grabbed me and threw me out into a huge mass of people. It was then I saw it: my brother, sister, mother, and best friend were headed in the other direction. Another wiser prisoner had told me that being moved into the left line was a death sentence; it meant the gas chambers. I saw my family and other weak people being moved into the left line like animals who were no longer in use for surplus.  Before I could yell to them, someone shoved me very hard, and I was eaten up by the swarm of the people who were awaiting the horrors of the Holocaust. I was never to see my family again. 

    "The year was 1942. My life of freedom was swept away, and I was swept with it into a world of hunger and hatred and fear. As it began, it wasn't so bad. There was less food and it seemed that two men would die each day.  It was not a number I liked, but looking back, those were the good times. Not long after arriving, however, things changed drastically. Before our eyes, we saw the pile of unburied human bodies grow like wheat. After the war ended, I learned about 50,000 Jews perished in Bergen-Belson alone, and the allied troops would find 10,000 unburied bodies during liberation.

 

    "I got weaker everyday and every day people disappeared from my life.  We saw a constant stream of smoke coming from the top of the crematorium. Then, two years after my arrival,  I was so weak that I fell to the ground.  Assuming that I was dead, they threw me onto the pile of dead bodies.  I woke up.  For those who have not experienced the Holocaust, I would imagine this would sound dreadful, but I figured I would have a better chance of living there than in the barracks, having to work each day. Under the pile of bodies, I was hidden. I was always scared when the men would run close by me. Even the crack of a twig scared me. I lived a life of fear.  During the night, I would work up the courage to claw my way out and scavenge for food.  It was during one of those nights that I watched them make the lamps."

    Joshua's eyebrows arched.  He looked at Petyr questioningly, urging him on (though he knew what he was talking about).  Petyr cried as he told more of his story.  He cried for the people that didn't make it through but might have had it easier without the nightmares and  unbelievable memories.  But, he continued, "The lamps were being made of human skin."  Petyr winced, as did Joshua. Petyr looked at Joshua and asked, "Should I continue."

    "Yes, please," Joshua responded in a sad voice.

    "It was so repulsive.  It is a story that rarely is told.  But that isn't all they made from human parts.  They made pillows out of human hair.  When I saw these things, I couldn't scream or gasp. I had to be still. It is hard to respond to inhumane acts in an inhumane way. That is one of the tragedies of the Holocaust.

    "However, witnessing this act suddenly gave me an idea of how to stay alive. I had been in the putrescent   bodies for days. I suddenly realized that I had a food and moisture source. Human skin was food and the grimy water at the bottom of the pile would be my water source. This seems barbaric but it was much better than what I saw. I wasn't sure I could do it for the smell of rotting bodies and picking through the maggots was nauseating.  It would be hard but easier than in the camp itself. Now I had to fight the insanity of the day because I couldn't move at all. At night I couldn't move much either for if a Nazi guard saw me, I would be shot instantly, or worse. The horrors were endless."  Petyr's story was further solidifying his belief that forgiveness was impossible.

    "Since I was able to observe more than most people, I saw things that happened in the camps.  Sometimes people would be forced to dig their own graves. It sounds grusome, but for some, it was a blessing.  The death rate was enormous, but the torture of living was just as high."

    Joshua spoke in a raspy voice, "It couldn't have been that bad."

    "Oh it was!" he said defensively, "For every man and women that didn't make it.  You didn't experience it. After two years had passed, suddenly they were taking people out on marches. I figured out from a friend who walked, that if someone fell, they would shoot them through the head.  Their goal was to leave no survivors.  They wanted no one left alive to tell the world of what the Nazis did. But as they walked, I stayed hidden in the decaying bodies.  I began to realize that fewer and fewer people were in the dreadful camp. It started to look deserted. There were many of us hidden in different places throughout the camp, but none of us knew what was going on.  As we realized that we were alone, we began to come out of hiding or I did for many others were much too weak.  One day, I had the courage to come out from under the mass of bodies. I walked, walked without fear for the first time in years. Suddenly, I heard cars coming down the bumpy road, fear returned.  I instantly ran back to the pile of death until I realized it was the best day of my life. The tanks and trucks were British. As the British soldiers tried to comprehend what they were seeing as it was much worse than front line, I asked what year it was.  
    A kind soldier answered, 'April sixteenth 1945. The day of your liberation.' 
    I thanked him, tears streaming down my face like Victoria falls.

    "I had been in there for three years and finally I was free.  I was seventeen and decided to look for my father. The chances were slim, but I tried to believe, to have hope.  I tried to look on the bright side.  The British fed us watery soup and gave us much water.  Coming back from near death was a slow process, but we all believed it would be OK and we could start the journey back into civilization."


    Both men were silent for a short period of time. Full of sorrow, Joshua spoke,"It's terrible what we did.. I didn't realize..."
    As soon as Joshua said that, in a distraught voice Petyr asked,"We? You were a Nazi?"

    Joshua turned to him, eyes wide.  "Yes, I was young and following orders.  Now my days and nights are filled with the horrors of what I did. My pain grows with the years. I cannot sleep for fear of the memories that haunt me.  I know I do not deserve this, but I am asking you for a favor that will allow me to rest.  Please, will you...can you...will you... please forgive me?"

    As Petyr looked into the tortured face of his tormentor, the nurse announced, "Is Joshua here?  The doctor is ready to see you now."

    Joshua took one last look at Petyr.  Joshua was met with a stare from ice-cold, blue eyes. As they looked at each other, they both knew the answer.

By ~ Fuller