Squeaker

Squeaker is a first person narrative story from a cats point of view.  This story describes the moment of a cat chasing a mouse and what it is thinking the entire time.  I think that this story is humorous because you never actually get to hear the point of view from a cat, and this allows you to.           

Squeaker

           I’ve always loved just laying down.  I don’t care where it is, I don’t care who it pisses off, I just like to be comfortable.  Maybe its that shady spot on the carpet one day, or maybe the sunny spot on the couch the other day.  Where ever it is I don’t really care as long as I can snooze.

            But you wanna know the problem with napping in open areas?  There always seems to be somebody who wants to touch me.  I mean, come on.  I’m hot.  But sometimes I just want to be able to lie in my sunny corner of the couch and take a long nap.  But no, instead I get to hear the baby voice from a grown adult come on, and then all of a sudden I’m in the air.  They think coddling me is going to get me happy, but instead I just grumble to myself.  They take this as a sign of happiness and keep rubbing my stomach, which to be honest isn’t that bad but I like to complain. 

            Finally after what seems like years they finally put me back down on the couch but by that point my warm spot is gone, so I decide to leave.  I hear little sounds of munching up ahead of me and decide to go check it out.  Right there before my eyes was a little tiny brown thing, it made my mouth water just looking at it.  Its tail twitched as it sensed my presence.

            The little brown mouse turned its head in my direction.  I watched as its eyes grew bigger, once it figured out what was behind it.

            “Oh no,” the thing squeaked.  God I hate squeakers.  And just like that it was off.  Up and down the hall I chased it, my claws grabbing into the carpet.  I saw a wall coming up and thought to myself, “This is it, I’m gonna get it.”  But turns out the little bugger was a lot smarter than I gave it credit for.  It went around the wall and ran down into a bigger room. 

            “You’ll never get me,” it squealed.

            “Oh yes I will, “ I yelled back.

            The squeaker ran through out the room, but I had it trapped. It ran under the bed, through the pillows and towards the closet.  Stupid mistake.  I chased the squeaker into the closet where I backed it into a wall. 

            Cowering into the wall the squeaker said, “Please don’t eat me I have a family and I need to be with them.”

            “Should have thought about that before you came into my house,” I replied.

            “Please…” It cried.

            As I got closer to it, it trembled in fear.  I knew that I couldn’t eat it but I could scare it a little.  So right as I was putting my mouth around its neck, I heard the squeaker scream and I knew that I had scared it enough.  I picked it up lightly and walked with it in my mouth.

            Walking down the stairs, I heard my owners talking in the kitchen and decided that was there I was going to bring it. 

            “What are you doing with me?” It squeaked loudly.

            “Shut up,” I grumbled in my throat.

            Finally I reached my owners, where I rubbed up against their legs, because it was the only thing that I could reach.  I dropped the mouse at their feet and walked away.  It had been a very tiresome day and I decided I wanted to go back to sleep.  Once I was a few feet away I heard my woman owner screech in fear, this made me smile.  Damn, it was good to be a cat.

The Story of Maximus

The Story of Maximus was based off of the original story of Rapunzel.  In my creative class we had to pick a fairytale and re-write it.  This is my re-written version.

The Story of Maximus

Once upon a time…

                  In a far off land, sat a boy.  Young to the eyes but ages old to the soul.  He sat watching out a window, a tiny little frame, where he saw birds flying across the blue sky.  He was but 12 years old and already he had the makings of a beard. His shaggy blonde hair hung in front of his eyes making him look scared and innocent.  His frame was slender and his legs were long.

            Looking up from the window he looked around his room, covered in paintings and drawings of the things he liked the most.  His bed was made and his ground was covered in papers from everything he had written.  He had just gone to his bed when he heard a singsong voice come from below his window,  “Oh Maximus dear let down the ladder.”  Maximus rushed to the window where he dropped down the ladder.

            Waiting and watching Maximus knew who was coming up but never forgot how beautiful she was.  Gold hair appeared first, then the makings of a face, and later the rest of her body.  Maximus sat watching as she climbed into his tower and knew that he would never love anyone more than he loved her.  She smiled at him and his heart broke.

            “Maximus!” She exclaimed with a gleeful smile, “Look what I brought for us.”  She showed him her basket, which was filled with a cherry and apple pie, with a container of milk and a couple of sweeties.  Maximus beamed at her and they sat on his paper-covered floor and munched on pies and sweeties while drinking in each other’s presence.

            Everything was as peaceful as could be until he heard the sounds of someone climbing the tower.  Maximus looked at the beautiful girl beside him and saw that her expression matched his.  She dove to pick up everything but just as she started to move she saw a boot come through the window.  Old dame Gothel climbed through the window with her steel-toed boots and long black cape, looking as if to be the most evil human being to ever walk the earth.  Once inside the tower Gothel’s eyes seized the girl.  Gothel hissed beneath her breath and said to Maximus, “How dare you betray me, sneak a girl in here, now see what happens to her.” 

            Gothel walked towards the girl and seized her hair as if it were a rope.  She led the girl to the window where she looked at Maximus and exclaimed, “This will teach you and anyone else who were to enter here, a lesson.”  The girl who was sobbing into her hands repeated, “No please, no.”  Maximus just sat there watching, as the girl he loved was about to die.

            Just as Gothel was pushing the girl out of the window, Maximus leaped forward and grabbed the girls hand.  The force of the push was too much though, and both went flying out the window.  They wrapped themselves in each other’s arms and fell together.  They hit the ground still wrapped in each other’s arms, where they would stay for the rest of eternity.

The End

A Story About A Hero

A story about a hero is a 3rd person narrative story.  The original assignment for this was to write a story about a 1st grader and make them a hero.  This was one of my favorite stories to write.

A Story About A Hero

This is a story about a hero named Faris.

Faris was always known as a special little boy, but there came a day when he became a hero.  Faris never talked back or fought with his mom or dad.  He played nicely with his brother, and shared his toys with his friends Aleesha and Sophie.  But there was one day that changed everything. After this day, the world knew Faris by name and could point him out even with a disguise on!

It was a cold afternoon, with a light touch of rain, and Faris was sitting on the side of the pool.  He was wondering whether or not he should jump in, when something caught his eye.  It was a little white tail, swaying back and forth off of a tree branch.  Faris watched as a kitty leapt from branch to branch, getting higher and higher in the tree.

“Don’t get too high,” Faris thought to himself.  But just as Faris thought it, the cat got so high in the tree that it was scared and didn’t know how to get down.  The kitty sat on the highest branch in the tree and looked down, scared to death. 

Faris stood up and looked up at the tree wondering if he should get somebody to help. 

“No,” he thought, “I can do this all by myself.”  Faris walked closer to the tree but hesitated and thought, “But I don’t want to get hurt!”  He had just gotten his cast off of his right wrist a couple of weeks earlier and didn’t want another one, even though he knew getting the kitty was the right thing to do.

The kitty meowed from high above Faris, making Faris feel bad that he wasn’t up there helping it.  Faris took a deep breath and knew the right thing to do.  He grabbed the lowest tree branch and started to climb.

Halfway up the tree Faris looked down and started to shake.  But he knew that there was no going back now.  He needed to save the kitty and get it back to its owners. 

The little white puffball of a cat sat on a branch and watched as Faris made his slow journey up through the tree.

The higher up that Faris got, the more the tree started to shake and the branches started to wobble.  But Faris knew that he could do it because he was a strong and brave boy.  He could handle anything.  He was only four branches away from the kitty, so close! 

He pulled himself up onto the next branch and heard it crack. “Oh no!” he thought to himself. “I need to hurry and help the kitty so both of us can be safe.” Holding on tightly to the branch, Faris reached with his left hand up to the kitty and grabbed a hold of it. 

“Yes!” he yelled out loud.  “I did it!”  Faris held the kitty close to him as he made his way down the tree.  The little white ball of fur cuddled against his chest, purring loudly for Faris to hear.  Finally, Faris reached the bottom of the tree where he hopped down to the ground.  He looked around but saw no one.  “Where could the kitty’s parents be?” Faris thought to himself. 

All of a sudden, Faris saw a piece of paper taped to a pole.  Faris walked over to it and saw a picture, of the kitty he was holding on the poster.  “LOST,” it said in big letters on the front.  “If found please bring to this address!”  Faris wrote down the address and asked a nice old man where it was.

“Well, right around the corner young man, first house on your left,” the old man answered.

Faris yelled a “thanks” as he took off down the street.  He found the house easily and walked up to the front door, and knocked.  A nice woman answered the door and looked down at Faris.

“Well, hello there,” she said. “What can I do for you today?”

“Ma’am, I think I found your lost kitty,” Faris said quietly.  He opened up his jacket and showed her the kitty he was holding.

“Oh my goodness! You found Clammy!” 

Faris nodded and said, “The kitty was stuck in a tree, so I went up and got her.”

The woman leaned down and wrapped Faris in a huge hug and said, “You are my hero young man. May I ask what my hero’s name is?”

“Faris.”

“Well Faris, you are an amazing boy.  Thank you so much for saving my kitty. Clammy is so special to me and my family.  You made my day.”

Faris nodded his head to say “you’re welcome” and turned around and walked away.  He knew that he did the right thing by climbing up the tree and getting the tiny kitty.  Now he was a hero for it. 

Faris knew that from here on out, even if he was scared he would be able to do anything.  As long as he had faith in himself and in his abilities, he could do everything he wanted to. He was not only a special boy now, he was a hero too.

                                                                                                            The End

Little Boy

Little Boy is a poem that tells a story about a little boys hard life and how he grows up.  The original assignment was to pick a picture and write a poem.  This poem is fictional.

Little Boy

There once was a boy who lived in a house,

Most days he sat around and played with his mouse,

He had long blonde hair that was ever so shaggy,

And a couple of siblings named Muppet and Maggie. 

Now these siblings were one, one of a kind,

They shared their toys and got along just fine.

But one day ago, something scary seemed to happen,

The little boy saw something, something you couldn’t imagine. 

It made the little boy cry and scream for his mommy,

But no one was there to hold his hand or rub his tummy,

His parents had left and gone far far away,

They sent him a letter saying they were going to stay. 

He wandered around town asking for money,

Till a nice stranger gave him some honey.

So he went to his siblings to show them what he got,

He thought they would be happy but instead they fought. 

The little boy ran and cried to himself,

He had done everything he could to try and keep their house.

Now the story comes to a close,

The little boy left and did everything he chose,

He grew into a man, so big and so tall,

He got everything he wanted,

He had it all.

The Pillow Speaks

The Pillow Speaks is a 1st person narrative poem, showing the point of view from the pillow.  It describes how a pillow feels, and thinks towards their owner.  This poem has no rhyme scheme.

The Pillow Speaks

I am known for comfort,

Somewhere to rest your head

When you are tired.

I will keep you company

In the loneliest of times.

As you sleep I will catch every tear,

And every scream.

I will always have a companion next to me,

But never do you use him,

Instead you stick with me.

I am not just your pillow,

But also your friend,

Because I will never leave you,

Judge you, or forsake you.

I will protect you

When you are scared,

And I will shield your eyes,

When you need not see,

I will love you always,

And you will always love me.

 

Why I Am Not A Model

Why I Am Not a Model is a collaborative piece of writing that my friend Sian and I did.  It explains why we would rather be athletes than models any day.  The original assignment was to talk about something that we aren't and compare it to something we are.

Why I Am Not a Model

I am not a model,

I am an athlete.

Because I would rather be fit,

For my own satisfaction,

Then thin for others desires.

For instance, Kendall Jenner’s

In a seventeen photo shoot.

I drop in and hear the photographer say,

“I don’t like your arms like that.

They look way too lanky.”

She moves her body to change positions.

But I am me,

I am an athlete.

Give me a ball,

And I will waste hours away.

I love the drive,

I love the power,

Of playing a sport

And knowing

Nothing else

Matters.

3:05 PM

3:05 PM is a poem that describes the last day of school, and the first day of summer.  There is no ryhme scheme, just short sentences. The original assignment was to write about a certain time, and I picked the last day of school because that is the day I am looking forward to the most.

 

3:05

 

No wind,

Just sun,

Cold's gone,

Heat has come;

Steaming sidewalks,

Wet skin,

Ice cubes melting,

Smiles beaming;

 

Loud voices,

Cell phones out,

Crowded halls,

Papers all about,

Children crying;

Goodbye slaps,

And farewell kisses,

So long to all of the Mr.'s and Mrs.'s;

 

The bell has rung,

School has officially been let out.