A Short Story I wrote in March 2011

Comments are appreciated. I will probably delete this post after a while, it just depends. It has no title so if you can think of one, suggest it in the comments!! :)

No Title

A. J. Spindle

The rocks and debris bite into my skin as I drop to my knees. All I can see is the blue tarp in front of me, completely still. The hair on my arms stands, leaving a tingling, icy feeling, despite my many layers. The police men don’t say anything as they watch from behind. I reach out and pinch the corner of the tarp, hand shaking, and pull it back.

My sister, my beautiful little sister and the last of my family, lay silently with her black hair pushed back, away from her eyes that are half open as though she were just waking. I look away. My nose burns and my throat closes up. A hand flies to my mouth, startling me, but it’s mine; a knee-jerk reaction. I can’t speak. There really isn’t anything to say. My teeth sink into my lower lip and I rest my forehead on my knees to make the world stop spinning while I blink back tears.

There’s a strong hand on my shoulder, rooting me to the spot, digging me deeper into the rubble of our home. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” he whispers.

I turn and look, it’s one of the men who lived on my street. His eyes are watery and gray, rimmed in red. Folds of paper thin skin drape over them like a canopy. He opens his mouth to speak but I can’t hear him. There’s waves of rushing water in my ears as the blood pumps through my veins. I only have one thought: My heart’s beating and hers is not.

I stand quickly and rock back on my heels. The man catches me and puts an arm around my shoulder. I want to shrug it off, like it doesn’t matter if he cares, but I can’t. I’m so numb. I don’t know how I can move when my body feels this heavy, like my sadness is a thick, wet wool blanket draped over me. It’s suffocating. I’m led to the jeep and someone helps me into a seat, buckles me in. As we begin to drive away, the cold air chills me to the bone and I wonder for a second if I can ever really feel warm again.

I wake up in the middle of the night, feeling as if someone had scrapped out my insides with a dull knife. There’s an emptiness in the pit of my stomach. I swallow hard, trying to hold down the pain and nausea. I roll over on my side and shrug off my blanket. The room is filled with quiet snores, people asleep all around me, dreaming like the earthquake and tsunami didn’t happen. I envy them, peacefully asleep, able to dream while all I had was a nightmare. I get out of my makeshift bed walk around. Each face I see reminds me I’m not alone in my grief.

A child is curled up into a ball next to her mother, her eyes shut. She’s holding a doll. It’s filthy, covered in dirt and grime, but she clutches it like it’s the last good thing on Earth. Maybe it’s all she has left; the only thing not taken from her. I turn away, brush the wetness from my cheeks, and move on. There’s an old man hunched over in the corner, away from the others. His head is bent forward as if in prayer, but his lips aren’t moving. His chest rises and drops evenly with each breath. Did he lose someone too? A wife? A son? A daughter? Was he all alone now, like me?

It’s too much. I need out. I take a flashlight and go out the front doors. Nobody stops me. Why would they? With me gone, there’d me more room for the others. Someone would notice I left and take my blanket to put on top of their own.

I pull my coat closer around my ears, wandering around, not quite sure where I’m going until my feet take me there. Before I know it, I’m standing in front of my home, or what’s left of it. There’s a little bit of our roof to my left, spread across the muddy ground. To my right is a heap of scrap metal and chunks of wood that used to be the walls.

I shine my little flashlight at the debris. Photographs of me and my sister litter the yard, pieces of my room are half buried under a wall. My eyes stop when they see what’s left of my bookshelf. I climb over the rubble to get to it and scoop up a book. The cover is torn off, pages wavy and splayed out like a Japanese folding fan. It’s soggy with sea water. I drop it back to the ground. It’s trash now.

It’s so quiet it hurts my ears. I have to make some noise or I’ll go mad. I kick the heap of trash in front of me and hear a snap as the wood breaks. It’s comforting, in it’s own way. I kick it again, and again. Finally, I stop and just stand there. I try to picture our house before the disaster. The front door should be here, right in front, and the kitchen window should be to the left, next to a shrub. The walkway should go from the door to where I’m standing now.

There’s nothing left. I’ll have to go back to America, where my aunt and uncle live. Mom and Dad always wanted us to move back anyway. I guess it would be a way to honor them now. I was born there, but I don’t remember much of it; just glimpses like peeking at a photograph. Still images of an open field, horses, and cars. Lots and lots of cars.

The sun begins to rise. I should go, but I need one last goodbye. I stumble over a metal pipe and fall, skinning the palms of my hands on something rough. I sit up, more tears fall, but not because of the pain, it’s because I see her, laying there like she didn’t have a care in the world.

Curled up under the rubble was Mioko, my four-month-old kitten. I crawl over to her on my hands and knees, my clothes snagging on the wreckage. As I get closer, my elation shrinks away to nothing. Mioko isn’t moving. Her black and brown fur is rugged and patchy like someone had sent her through the washer and dryer. I reach out to her, wanting to rest my hand on her ribs, feel the warmth of her fur under my fingers. But I don’t. I just sit there and cry, let it all out. I shed a tear for everything and everyone I lost; my home, my school, my job, Mom, Dad, my sister, and now my little kitten.

I’m wiping my eyes on my sleeve when something rubs up against my thigh, brushing against my jeans. I look down to see Mioko staring up at me with those big green eyes.

I gasp and grab her up in my arms, bury my face in her rough fur. She smells of warm seawater and garbage.

“Mioko, you stupid cat. You scared me to death.” I pull her back to look her in the eyes. She squirms and tries to get free, pawing at my hands. Here we are, the only things left and she wants to play. I just sit there and hold her to my chest, refusing to let her out of my sight.

Eventually I stand up and brush myself off, tuck Mioko under my elbow, and start walking away. Away from my home, my street, the town where I grew up. I’m not really sure where I’m going, but anywhere would be better than here. And wherever I end up, I know it will be okay again. I may not be the same person I was yesterday, but maybe that’s a good thing. Changes are scary and at the same time exciting. As I near the end of my street, I don’t turn around. I keep on walking toward my new life, wherever it may be.

Updates and a Teaser

Thought I'd post a teaser from my WIP#3, The Bridge Between Two Minds:

"I felt so numb, like I’d finally gotten a sense of closure about this whole ordeal. Dan was gone, I knew that in my mind, but now I felt it in my heart. It was a calming feeling, more than saddening, and I was grateful. For the first time in weeks I felt hopeful."

I just started my new job this week at Primrose School so I haven't had time to write like I was hoping. The money will be nice though. Maybe I can buy a Mac and a new desk sometime this year. After I cancel my AT&T phone and get a Virgin Mobile phone (to save more $$$).

Hopefully I'll have some more time to blog this summer since I'm not taking summer courses this year. I'll only be working 20-35 hours a week so I should have some spare time to blog and/or work on my books.

I'm going to work on my WIP#3 today. I really want to finish it by Fall of this year. No promises though. I'm not quite sure where my characters are going to take me yet. I might have to talk it over with my cousin/brother, Jacob. He's pretty good at letting me bounce ideas off of him. He wants to be a writer too, in his spare time. It's nice having him there when I get stuck and feel like giving up. He's a pretty smart kid, or well, teen. He'll be 17 this summer!! It feels like just yesterday we were jumping on his toddler bed, watching Blues Clues together, and playing in the sand box. I guess time flies when you're having fun! HA!

I DO have the name of the anthology that my short story will be in. It will be called "Voices of Angels" and it's being published by Bridge House Publishing, this summer, late July. The forward will be written by Gloria Hunniford (who is some person from the UK that had a talk show or something). Not going to lie, I'm kinda excited to see my short story, Blue Lipped Angel, in print.

I also got my first ticket last week. I ran a red light because the person behind me was too close and I couldn't stop in time without them hitting me, so my front tires crossed the white line 0.64 seconds after the light turned red... Sooooo I had a 77.95 dollar fine. Which is NOT cool.

So, this is just an update on what I'm up to. Not much really. Maybe something exciting will happen soon and give me something fun to post about.

A. J. Spindle

The Girl in the Mirror

Here is the beginning of my new short story. I haven't finished it yet because I don't know if it's worth finishing. This is only part one, part two is written, but I didn't post it yet. I'm just missing the ending.
***I've now posted part two! Just scroll down until you find the part where it left off.***

The Girl in the Mirror

A. J. Spindle

The sound of winter’s first frost under her boots filled the air. Amy pulled the fur lined jacket closer around her neck and slung her backpack over her shoulder. The snow drifted around her, swirling in the wind and landing on the halfway-covered, yellow grass. Looking up to the sky, she held out her tongue and tried to catch a few flakes; her breath coming out in white wisps. She wasn’t watching her footing and her boot snagged a loose root, sending her sprawling across the frozen ground and filling her mouth with snow and dirt.

“Ugh!” She spit and rolled over, staring up at the sky. A bird sat watching her, its eyes like two red raspberries. “What are you looking at?” she asked the bird. It flew off without an answer.

Amy pushed herself up and leaned against a tree, checking the damage. Her jeans were ripped along the knees and soaked with fresh snow. “That’s just perfect.”

She stood up and dusted herself off the best she could. Her backpack landed a few feet in front of her, having slid off her shoulder when she fell. She bent down to pick it up when something shiny caught her eye. She left her bag and went over to investigate. Bending down, she reached out and pulled off a layer of vines and roots. Whatever the object was it had been there for a long time, hidden by nature’s hand.

Amy tugged the item loose and brushed off the remaining dirt on her jeans. It was a mirror, wrapped in a rounded frame and a curvy handle. The metal was rusted and scratched as if the owner had abused it. There was no telling how long the mirror had been in the middle of the woods. She’d taken the path many times before to get to and from school but she’d never noticed it.

The mirror felt cool, even through her gloves. Amy ran her fingers over the back of the frame. Swirling lines were etched deeply into the metal, creating an elegant pattern. She turned the mirror back over, reflective side up, and her stomach dropped to her toes. A young girl resembling Amy stared back.

But this girl wasn’t Amy.

She had Amy’s dark brown hair and blue eyes, but the girl in the mirror wasn’t surrounded by trees or wearing a thick coat and toboggan. The girl in the mirror wore a honey colored dress with ruffled white lace around the collar. A single heart shaped pendant dangled from a chain around her neck.

Amy dropped the mirror and took a step back. She looked over her shoulder, nobody was there. Of course not. Nobody goes into the woods but her; people believed it to be haunted. Amy took a cautious step forward and peered into the mirror. The girl was gone and only Amy’s reflection remained.

Amy let out the breath she’d been holding. She picked up the mirror and the girl appeared again, raising an eyebrow at Amy.

“Ahhh!” Amy threw the mirror and it bounced off a tree, sending shards of glass flying. Everything went dark, as if the sun had been snuffed out like a candle. The shards of mirror began to glow and Amy could hear laughter. She whipped her head around looking for the source of the sound. Something grabbed the back of her jacket and she tried to run but the thing was too strong.

“Let me go!” Amy lashed out with her arms but there was nobody behind her. A white mist tugged on her clothing, pulling her closer to the mirror shards where the laughter grew louder, more high pitched. “Help! Someone!”

The mist circled her and became thick like fog, pulling her down to the ground.

***

Breathing hard, Amy opened her eyes. Sunlight streamed through an open window. She was laying on her back on a hardwood floor. A young man stood over her, his face full of concern.

“Amelia, are you okay?”

She didn’t know what to say. She blinked and looked around. The smell of a sweet perfume filled the air. A marble fireplace sat to her left and to her right was a four poster bed, buried under mounds of blankets and fluffy pillows. Amy looked up at the boy who watched her with interest. His brows threaded together and his mouth set in a frown.

“Amelia, are you okay? Can you talk?” He reached a hand down to help her up.

“Why are you calling me that?” Amy finally said.

He cocked his head to the side. “Excuse me?”

“You said Amelia. Nobody calls me that.”

“I don’t understand. That’s your name. What am I supposed to call you?”

“Amy.”

He looked over his shoulder. “Your nurse went to fetch help. Can you sit up?”

“My nurse?” She couldn’t be in a hospital. At least, she didn’t think she was. She’d never seen such a fancy hospital room before. The walls were oak paneled and there was a dressing curtain at her feet. No, certainly not in a hospital.

“I hope she can find the doctor,” the boy said, looking uneasy. Amy tried to sit up. He reached down to help.

“Who are you?” Amy asked, letting her eyes follow the features of his face. His dark green eyes led down to his pointed nose, thin lips, and square chin.

“You did take quite a spill, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question. “I’m Ephraim.”

Amy gave him a blank stare.

“Your betrothed,” he clarified.

Amy burst out laughing. “What? Are you serious?” she said between chuckles.

Ephraim cleared his throat and looked down at her. “Quite serious.”

Something in his expression made Amy freeze. “Oh.”

The door opened and an older woman rushed in. “There she is!” she said, pointing to Amy. A balding man came in behind the woman carrying a black bag by the handle. He wore a thick wool jacket with a white scarf sticking out around his neck. He came over to where she was on the floor and set his bag down beside her.

“What happened, Amelia?” The man reached into his black bag and rummaged around.

“That’s not my name,” she said. The man paused.

“She’s confused, Doctor. She thinks her name is Amy,” Ephraim said.

“I’m not confused,” she said. “And my name is Amy. Amy Thatcher.”

The doctor nodded his head. “I see.”

“No, you don’t see. I was in the woods coming home from school when I found this mirror. There was a girl in the mirror, but she wasn’t me. She was dressed in what looked like an 18^th century gown. She wore a long necklace with a heart on it.” Amy put her hands around her neck, as if to show what she meant, but her fingers found a warm metal chain there. She looked down and screamed.

“It’s on me!” she yelled. The honey colored dress and heart necklace had somehow made their way onto her body.

The doctor turned to the woman who Amy assumed was the nurse. “Help me get her in bed.”

“Why am I in this dress? What’s going on? Who are you people?” Amy thrashed on the floor trying to get the doctor and nurse’s hands off her. Her foot kicked something sharp, making her suck in a breath.

“Ow!” she looked down at her foot. A shard of glass stuck out of her heel at an odd angle. Amy pounded the floor with her fists and tears welled up in her eyes.

The doctor grabbed her foot so she couldn’t move it and spoke over his shoulder. “Ephraim, get warm water, towels, and a glass of wine for Amelia. Hurry.”

Ephraim ran from the room, not bothering to shut the door on his way out.

Amy sucked in a breath trying to ignore the jarring pain in her foot. “You people are crazy! I want to go home!”

“You are home, child,” the nurse said. “Don’t you recognize your own bedroom?”

“Hold still, Amelia. I have to remove this bit of mirror,” the doctor said.

Amy froze. “Mirror? Let me see it!” she demanded, pulling her foot away from him. She bent over and saw her reflection in the glass; her face on the mirror girl’s body. She looked up and saw bits of mirror scattered across the floor. The metal frame sat a few inches away from her. She snatched it up and turned it over in her hand.

“Be careful, you could get cut again,” the nurse said, but Amy ignored her.

“This is the mirror I found in the woods, but it’s not scratched or rusted.” Except for the splintered glass, the mirror looked brand new.

Ephraim came back with the supplies the doctor requested. He held out a glass. “Drink this, Ameli-- I mean, Amy,” he corrected.

The use of her real name threw her off. She reached out and took the glass of dark red liquid; peering inside, she sniffed. “Thanks.” She took an experimental sip. The liquid burned her throat and nose, making her cough. “I don’t think I like it,” she said, handing the cup back to Ephraim.

“You need to drink it. You’re not going to want to feel this,” the doctor said, taking her injured foot again. He took a white towel and dipped it in warm water. “Hold still.”

Amy bit her lip and whimpered as the doctor took hold of the shard of mirror and tugged. The blood left her face, leaving a light tingly felling. She laid back on the floor.

“I think I need that wine now,” she murmured, eyes squeezed shut.

Ephraim leaned down and held the cup to her lips. “Is she okay?”

The doctor grunted. “She’s having glass removed from her foot, son. What do you think?”

The doctor removed the glass and wrapped her foot in a cool cloth. The pain began to ease a little as her head grew fuzzy.

“There, that should hold. Let’s get her to bed. Ephraim, you need to leave so she can change into her bed clothes.”

“No, I want him here.” Amy handed the nurse her wine glass that she’d drained.

The woman gasped. “Amelia, you’re not in your right mind.”

“I want him here!” Amy didn’t know why, but she felt that Ephraim might actually believe her. He’d called her Amy, after all.

The doctor looked uneasy but shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever keeps her calm I suppose.”

The nurse clucked her tongue disapprovingly. “The boy better keep his peepers shut if he ever wants to see anything again.”

“I think I should wait in the hall,” Ephraim said, glancing at the nurses pursed lips. “I’ll be right back.” He walked out to the hall and shut the door.

“You too, Doctor,” the nurse said.

“I suppose I’m not needed here. Make sure she gets plenty of rest and stays in bed for the rest of the day,” he said on his way out of the room.

“She will.”

After Amy was dressed and tucked safely in bed, Ephraim was allowed back in, so long as she kept the covers pulled up to her chin.

“Could you give us some privacy?” Amy asked the nurse.

The old woman’s eyes grew big. “Privacy? Have you lost all sense of modesty, young lady?”

“I need to speak with him. In private. I guess I could get out of bed, but the doctor wanted me to rest and--”

“Oh, all right. I’ll go sit over there. Drink some more wine,” she said, handing the refilled glass to Amy. She smiled and took a sip, hoping to please the nurse. It seemed to work and the nurse grudgingly walked away, taking a seat by the window.

“I need you to do something for me,” Amy said in a low voice as Ephraim pulled a chair over to the bed and sat.

“Anything.”

“I need all the pieces to the broken mirror.” She glanced up at the nurse who was watching like a hawk. Amy took another sip of wine and yawned.

“Why would you want that for?”

“I just do, okay,” Amy pleaded with her eyes for him to understand the urgency behind her words, but he didn’t.

“You need to rest for now.” He stood up from his chair.

“No, I can’t! Not without the mirror.”

Ephraim sighed and then chuckled, a light airy laugh. “Do you want your nurse to murder me? I wouldn’t put it past her.”

“Please?” Amy felt tired; her head thick from the wine. It didn’t help that the heavy blankets pressed down on her like a butterfly in a cocoon.

“You sleep and I’ll see what I can do.”

Amy had no strength to argue so she nodded and rolled over to sleep.

***

Almost My Birthday!

Three more days until I turn twenty-years-old! That's just crazy to think I was born two decades ago on April 12, 1991 at 12:16 pm. I certainly don't feel twenty yet. I feel like a kid. I think it's harder for my parents to believe I won't be a teenager anymore. Well, I'm glad I survived my teen years, not that they were hard or anything. Hopefully my twenties will be more exciting. Maybe I'll finally sell my book and people will stop asking if I'm in 8th grade.

So for my birthday I will be going to the zoo because I have a school project that day, funny how that worked out :)

So now that I'm going to be an official adult and all, I guess I'll have to be more serious...  or not. I'm fine with being goofy and crazy until the day I die, haha!

I haven't blogged in a while and I appologize for that. Not that many people read my blog, but there are a few of you out there.  School has kept me very busy. I'm looking for a new university to go to and trying to find a second job. Did you know college was expensive? Who would have thought, haha!

That's all for now,
A. J. Spindle

Please excuse the broken links. This blog is under construction!

New Short

A snippet of my new short story. I could turn it into a book, but I've set it aside for now. Enjoy. (note: this has not been edited and errors are sure to be present).

There was a knock at the door. I muted the television and set my popcorn down on the table. When I opened the door, I’m sure my jaw dropped, but I don’t really remember. All I know is that when my eyes adjusted to the brightness of the sun, I saw my mother standing in the doorway, smiling like she’d never left. Like her presence now could somehow make up for the past nine years.

  “Mom,” I said as curtly as I could, “you’re not supposed to be here until tonight.” I leaned against the open door, blocking the entrance with my body.

“Brianna, darling, I’ve missed you,” Cynthia said. Dad said I wasn’t allowed to call her Cynthia to her face, but that didn’t stop me from thinking it.

“It’s Bree now, actually,” I said, “but you wouldn’t know that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Bree.” She smiled like she’d told a joke. That just put more fuel on the fire. “Can I come in?”

Not after what you’ve put this family through, no. Do you think you can just waltz back into our lives like you never left? “Sure,” I said. I didn’t want her in the house. I didn’t want her to poison it like she did the last one. I wouldn’t forget what she did to me when she left me crying in my bedroom floor when I was seven. I moved aside, just enough for her to slide past me into the living room.

“This is nice,” she said.

I didn’t say anything back. Instead I plopped back onto the couch and turned up the volume on the television.

“Where’s your father?” Cynthia asked.

“Dunno.” I stared blankly at the screen like a zombie, thinking maybe if I tried hard enough, she’d go away.

“Where’s your brother?” she asked after an uncomfortable minute of silence.

“Which one?” I tossed a popcorn kernel in the air and caught it in my mouth.

She was quiet for a second as she thought that over. “Brayden, of course,” she finally said.

“What? Didn’t you know I had two bothers now?”

“Your father neglected to mention it,” she said. That pleased me. If Dad was keeping her out of the loop, she might not even know he’s married again.

“Did he tell you about Mom?” I don’t ever call my stepmother “Mom” but I did it just to see her reaction. She didn’t even blink which disappointed me.

“Yes, I’ve heard about Kristen. Is she...” she searched for words, “nice?”

“She’s the greatest. We do everything together.” That was a lie too. Kristen and I get a long just fine, but we don’t hang out. Not the way my real mother and I used to.

“I see,” she said.

I cocked my head to the side and looked her in the eyes. “Is there something you wanted?”

Her eyebrows knitted together. “Brianna Fletcher, do not talk to your mother that way.”

I lost it.

“Who do you think you are? You just show up on our doorstep like some stray cat and expect us to invite you in? You left us. You left me.” My voice broke on the last word and I kicked myself internally. “You are no mother of mine.” I stared back at the TV like nothing had happened.

Cynthia stood from the couch. “I see your father’s temper has rubbed off on you,” she muttered.

“Better than yours.”

  “Maybe I’ll come back when he gets home, then, hmm?”

“Does it look like I care what you do?” I snapped. She stood by the door for a minute with her fingers around on the handle, like she couldn’t decide what to do.

“I guess--”

“Cynthia?” Dad’s voice wafted in from the kitchen. Oh, great. 

Printing the Manuscript

What am I holding in this picture, you ask? Oh, nothing too important... It's just my MANUSCRIPT!! I sent my book, Bennett Nelson and the Maker of the Stones, to Staples to have them print and bind it. It looks so official and book-like! I'm so excited, if you couldn't tell by that smile on my face. :)

Anyway, I'm looking through it now and I'm smiling to myself thinking, how did I even come up with that? There are a few small typos, as was expected. For instance I put the word "Breathe" instead of "Breath" but that's okay. This book is for my eyes only, and maybe my parents.

Now I've got to find some more literary agents to send this too. Hopefully someone will want to take a look at it and maybe even represent it!

Squeal! I'm just so happy with how official it looks!

That's all for now,
A. J. Spindle

New Year!! Woohoo!

Haven't blogged in forever, I'M SORRY! I've been so busy with school, then the holidays, and now we have family over to spend the week with us.

Anyway, I thought I'd share some news with you. Some of you already know, but I met my goal for 2010. I wanted to be a published writer and it happened. I signed my contract on December 16, 2010. My goal was to sign a contract by December 31, 2010. Mission accomplished!

I'm pretty happy. No, it's not a book deal, but my short story will be published in an anthology. I'm pretty excited. It's just the first step :)

A lot of people ask me about writing so I made a video to answer some of their questions:

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

I think I'm addicted to keeping fish. I now have three fish tanks in my game room. One 2.5 gallon with a male betta fish. One 15 gallon with 1 silver dollar, 3 mickey mouse platies, and 1 peppered cory catfish. And in the third tank, a 55 gallon, I have 1 common pleco, 1 rubbernose pleco, 7 golden tetras, and 6 tiger barbs.

I don't know why fish keeping is so much fun. I love to rearrange the tank and add new plants. The fish are active and darting around the tank, chasing each other and it's fun to watch! Recently, my friend L. J. Boldyrev has joined the fish loving club. Her 10 gallon is beautifully decorated and full of pretty neon tetras, glass fish, a frog, snail, and a featherfin catfish. Daily we discuss our fishies and how happy they make us.

Recently, my bunny rabbit, Lola, passed away from flystrike. She died a horrible death and I was really sad. But these new fish have helped distract me from thinking of her. She was a great bunny. Always the calmest, gentlest, and most loving of all my rabbits. She never once growled at me, or thumped, or tried to bite or claw me. She just sat there and let me pet her and brush her fur. She was always happy and loved to move the hay around in her cage and build a nest for winter. She was very special. I adopted her when she was 1 year old. I had her for 3 short years. Her cage may be empty, but she left my heart full of joy. I buried her in the back yard under a peach tree and decorated her grave with pretty rocks.

It’s been a week since you left 

And here I sit alone, 

Collecting your pictures. 

Thinking if only 

I would have known 

That that day was your last.  

I’d have given you a hug,

Maybe kissed your nose,

Tickled your ears,

Or played with your toes.

I miss your eyes,

They way you lit up a room.

I miss the way you

Would try to groom

My arm with your tongue.

I wish you were still here,

You were so young.

Now you’re gone and all I have

Are memories to which I’ve clung

To, to get me through this time.

You had me wrapped

Around your paw,

And I was trapped in your love.

I will never forget you

As you watch from above.

Greed Only Leads to Corruption

A common problem in today’s society is greed. People always want more than they have and it’s a never ending desire. Americans in particular can’t be truly happy until they have the latest gadget or newest clothes. Scanning the news articles, one can see how greed can corrupt people, ruin relationships, and even lead to murder. Greed is an intense and selfish desire. It will exist for as long as the Earth continues on. Those who succumb to greed find themselves in a worse situation than had they hesitated to act upon their desires.

One news article from today addresses the trapped miners in Chile and their relatives. While the miners are trapped underground, trying to stay alive and keep a level head, their relatives are above ground arguing about how much money one family receives from the government while another receives less. An article from Yahoo News sheds light on distant family members who are trying to ride on the miners fame, “There are those who, despite only distant blood ties to miners, lined up for donated gifts including bottles of wine and electronic toys and Halloween costumes for children.” Greed stands in the way of what is really important: the safety of the trapped miners. These people don’t care about these men who they barely know. Their greed urges them to take advantage of the situation, and that is just wrong.

An excellent example from the Ancient World unit is in Medea, by Euripides. Jason, Medea’s husband, takes a new bride without asking or saying anything to Medea. She feels betrayed and angry with him. Her anguish is so great, her nurse fears she will snap and hurt herself. Medea had always been faithful to Jason, turning her back on her homeland to follow him and be his bride, and he repays her with this slap to the face. Jason claims that his marriage to this young princess will ensure that Medea and her two sons will be taken care of for the rest of their life, but Medea knows that he is selfish and takes what he wants. His greed gets in the way and in the end, he loses his new bride and his only two children by Medea’s doing. Jason says it’s “only naturally a woman is angry when her husband marries a second wife.” (Euripides, 865). He does not regret his decision, but expects Medea to except it because women cannot divorce their husbands, it was far to shameful. So instead, Medea ruins his life by taking all that he loves.

In the book of Genesis of the Old Testament, a man named Cain is envious of his brother, Abel. One day, while out in the field, Cain gets fed up with his perfect brother and kills him. When questioned by God as to where Abel is, Cain answers “I know not; Am I my brothers keeper?” (Moses, 72). Cain wanted God’s attention and love. When he saw that Abel was God’s favorite, he acted without thinking. After the slaying, Cain was punished more than he could bare. No crops grew for him anymore. Embarrassed by his actions, he went into hiding from the Lord, saying “...I shall be a fugitive and a vagabond in the earth” (Moses, 72). Had he been able to control his greed for attention, he could have been blessed by God and got along with his brother. Greed corrupted him and sentenced him to exile.

In the end, those who give in to their temptations and act on their desires of greed will most likely cause more problems than they can handle. If everyone could learn from the mistakes and flaws of characters in literature, there would be less impulsive people; people who think before they act. Imagine the murders that happened because of greed. What if that one person lived and they found the cure for cancer. Is it really necessary to own the fastest car, fancy clothes, and the newest iPod? Imagine a world where everyone put others before themselves. How would that impact daily life for those who are less fortunate and don’t even have a place to call home? Greed, of course, cannot be completely snuffed out because it is part of human nature, a fatal flaw, but if everyone gave instead of took, they hold the potential to change the world.