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In this journal are my works; things I've written. If you wish to see or read more, please tell me so. Tell me what you think, be it good or bad. I take both, for they are opinions.

A woman walks around the park every day. I've seen her walking sometimes before. She seems like a pleasant lady. She was holding a bundle in her arms; she always walks around the park with that bundle in her arms. I hear from some other people who notice me watching her with curiosity, that she supposedly walks at night too. This lady, anyone can tell she's homeless by her rags. Sometimes she stops to eat or sleep, but she never sets the bundle down. When she's not sleeping or eating, she's always walking, carrying that bundle.

For about three days, this woman has been out here, walking. One of those days, I confronted her, saying "Hello, beautiful day, isn't it?" She answered in a quiet, hushed voice, "Yes, it's a very nice day," she paused, "Sh . . . My baby's sleeping." All the while she kept a calm, steady voice, and she had the sweetest expression. Just as I was about to ask another question, she started walking again, as if I never was there, like I had never even spoke to her. I guessed that was goodbye, so I continued on my way.

The next day, in the afternoon, I approached the park, saw her, and she was surrounded by four police officers trying to coax her into the back of the car. When that didn't work, a female officer kindly asked to see the baby. The woman kept asking them to please be quiet, the baby was sleeping and not to wake it. The lady officer hushed her voice and asked again, to see the baby. It was always covered, which was suspicious; it was asleep every time someone asked, also suspicious.

The woman began to get panicky, and she herself began to raise her tone. She seemed desperate to keep the lady officer from taking her baby. The lady officer was being very sweet and gentle, but persistent and growing ever closer to the woman. This probably made the woman so nervous.

Two of the other officers took her by the shoulders and held her; she began to panic more. The lady officer took the baby from her, who -despite "mother's" now screaming and ranting, relentless to hand it over- seemed to be sleeping soundly. The lady officer had on rubber gloves, the other officers restrained the now frantic woman who was screaming as if she were in pain, even though she wasn't, the other officer went over to help the two restrain her. The lady officer unwrapped part of the bundle, and I could see that she almost dropped it in pure astonishment. It wasn't a baby... at least, not a living one.

The woman was screaming and sobbing now, in distress. The officers tried to get her in the car now, but the woman, somehow, broke free, and outran the officers: How? She ran into a major intersection and managed to cross without getting hit, or stopping a single car. Each officers that followed on foot were not as fortunate . . . One was sent flying over the hood of a car, then under the wheels of another, which the driver of saw coming, went to stop, and the car stopped on top of him. Another officer, not far behind, was hit by the car behind the car that stopped on top of the first officer; the car had swerved to avoid hitting the "tomb car". The third officer, somewhat lagging behind, was hit by a confused and rather frantic SUV driver. The car in front of the SUV had been halted, and the driver got out to see the action of the first two police officers hit. The SUV crashed into this car- hard. Thus making the driver jump away in shock, then stare in awe and horror at the third officer, sh-mushed in between the back bumper of their car and the front bumper of the SUV. The driver of the SUV got out and started flipping out.

The lady officer, from before, drove up and stopped the police car on the sidewalk. (She had put the "baby" into a bag back at the park, and brought it with her.) She was honking at other cars and pedestrians to move. She got out of the car and got closer to see what was the matter. Then she saw each of the other officers in someway dying, or dead. She went from one to the other, in order of accident occurrence, checking their pulse. The first and third were looked obviously gone, but she checked anyway. The second was nearly hanging on. She got out her pager and reported the incident: Asking for back-up to settle the witnesses, an ambulance for the injured, and for the other police officers stationed around the city to keep a look-out for the woman, describing her as she needed.

I had followed the policemen at a distance, that was how I knew what happened. I decided to go look for the woman, so I took off in the direction I saw her head in. I asked people, and some saw her, pointing me in her direction.

The sky was turning overcast. I reached a bridge that crosses the large lake. I saw her standing on the railing. I called out to her, asking her to wait - maybe she had a chance. She turned her head, looking at me over her shoulder. Before I could say anything more, she turned back to the open water and stepped off the railing. Something in my stomach lurched; my body wouldn't move at first, it was stunned. When I regained myself but seconds after, I raced over to the railing, leaning over just in time to see her plunge into the water, and the splash. I stared in utter astonishment and utter disbelief.

It started to rain.

Later, I looked up the incident. With the baby's corpse, the police had later identified that the mother had only kept her dead child. When she had given birth on the streets, the child was born on a cold night. The child came down pneumonia and had died. The mother, traveled into a mental state of shock and fantasy. She no longer responded to the living world. I'm guessing the reason why she jumped was because, if her child would be taken from her, then she would also be taken by death. When the cops had taken away the child, she snapped out of her shock, but couldn't get over the fact that her baby had died. She wanted to be with her child, being it all she had left. Thus, she figured, since her child was gone from her and the world, she would go to her child by leaving this world.

Community Member

Community Member
2:48 PM, Thursday, November 02, 2006

Fallen Angel
Don't hang your head
Don't droop your wings
Don't cry
Flap your wings
And fly high
Higher than e'er before
Believe in yourself
Be the angel you truly are
Be yourself

August 24, 2006 (First day of Tenth grade)

The Day When "Life" as We Humans Know it . . .
. . . Comes to an End

The very day that the grass turns blue and the sky turns green;

The clouds dissappear and the waters turn to rocks and rocks to grey liquids;

When snow turns to styrophoam and styrophoam turns to pebbles;

When iron melts at room temperature,
and room tempurature varies with the decade;

When winter becomes summer before becoming spring,
and autumn becomes spring without becoming winter;

When trees turn to leaves,
and leaves to stones,
and stones to leaves,
to seeds,
to water,
to grass;

When the earth flips up-side-down,
rotates and revolves in the opposite directions;

When the blazing Sun freezes and Pluto is set ablaze;

When stars explode seimoltaneously;

When food turns to burning coal in our mouthes,
and insects grow in size,
and rocking chairs rock nevermore;

When a properly strung piano makes no sound as the key is struck;

When an explosion does not deafen;

And when the theory of peace and hope dies in the minds of the believers,
because the believers themselves have become non-believers and now only exist:
not really think for themselves or question their rutines,
- but rather just walk on limply,

When nightmares become your sanctuary . . .
and your sanctuary become nightmares . . .

. . . this is the day love dies and death lives;

The day when courage cowers and fear reins as bravery;

When friends become enemies and enemies soon cease to exist . . .

. . . along with all other "human" sense or theory.


"I was 'simply' feeling as deep as the ocean, thinking as large as the universe, and had recently gone through some friendship issues. I was also questioning "impossible" while I originally thought of "When nightmares become your sanctuary . . . and your sanctuary become nightmares . . ."and then came this entire flower from the blossom blooming. So, now - I dare you to answer this question: Keeping the "major scheme" in mind, what is "impossible", really?"

Community Member

Community Member
Shadow's Dance

Mother, you left in silence.
Like the shadows
That are whisked away
By dawn's first light
Carried far into the distance
Into the hallows
Empty and set astray
Against your every might.
To call you requires assistance
Forget the bellows
You're too far away
In this deafening night.
Once again in the silence
Dawn will follow
Let come what may
You're out of sight.
You resume the shadow's dance
It's not mellow
They regret not say
It's the perfect night.

Love's Fate

Blessed are the days
When I see your sweet face;
Those days when we meet;
Those hours cannot be beat.
Graceful is your hand in mine;
With you, I'll always be fine.

Cursed be that day,
When our love is set astray;
That dreadful day of deceit;
When we finally admit defeat.
Does this curse in our fate reside?
In our love, then, can we yet confide?

My love for you
Will always be true.
For this reason, here,
You should never fear.
I vow to be yours beyond time's end.
This love we share is too true to pretend.

Community Member

Community Member
every mouse isn't white.
every witch isn't ugly.
every book isn't hard.
every hand isn't warm.
the curse of the stereotype
is always ontime.
that's why they call it a curse
because it goes by it's own time
which is, in our time,
the worst times.

(revised on Wednesday, June 14, 2006)
Every mouse isn't white.
Every witch isn't ugly.
Every book isn't hard.
Every hand isn't warm.
The curse of the stereotype
Is always ontime.
That's why I call it a curse;
Because it runs by its own clock,
which are(by our watch),
the worst times of all.

A powerful weapon or shield,
One of which we all wield.
Fear can be either a friend or foe
Though, it never allows it to show.
Who's the wise man to say
that the brave man has no fear?
Who are the rescued to say
that the rescuer did not hesitate?
Who's the civilian to say
that the hero will not scream?
A weakness or strength,
Be there no part played by faith.
Fear can be both seen and smelt
As well as heard and felt.

Community Member

Community Member
If you hate a person, you hate something in him that is part of yourself. What isn't part of ourselves doesn't disturb us. - Hermann Hesse

I have not failed, I've found 10,000 ways that won't work. -Thomas Edison

Four things come not back -- the spoken word, the sped arrow, the past life, and the neglected opportunity. -Arabian Proverb

If the enemy within cannot kill us, then the enemy without can do us no harm -African Proverb

If you stand up like a nail you will get hammered down. -Japanese Proverb
Vision without action is daydream. Action without vision is nightmare. -Japanese Proverb

Fear is only as deep as the mind allows -Japanese Proverb

To be damned by the devil is to be truly blessed. -Quai Chang Kane

Faith is to believe in things that we do not see, and the reward of this faith is to see in what we believe. -Unknown

Whoever gossips to you will gossip about you. -Spanish Proverb

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