10/365

Friendship: Write about being friends with someone.

Thomas Klaken found himself in a terrifying situation when be befriend a girl from his school named Louisa Aerosky. Louisa was new to Rockefeller Jr. High School in Jasper, Alabama, unlike Thomas, who had been a student in the city of Jasper since he was a child. Klaken was a native born Alabamian. No one was quite sure where Louisa was from, not even the teachers fully understood where she was she transferred from because her paperwork simply stated “RUSSIA, RUSSIA.”

No one in Thomas’ school had even been to Russia and their only understanding of Russia was that communism was bad for just about everything they stood for in America; this was grounds enough for the kids to exclude her from any social gathering that happened during or after school hours. This, unfortunately for Thomas, was how he happened to meet Louisa, and how his first interaction with Louisa would be the sole event that changed his life completely.

The weather is Alabama is always quite fair and if it isn’t fair that means the weather is horrid and on this day, the weather happened to be horrid. A common occurrence in Alabama around February was what locals called “nado, weather,” or simply put, tornado weather. Thomas, like most Alabamians, had seen his fair share of tornado warnings and tornadoes; but tornadoes were completely new to Lousia.

The school day was coming to an end, and like most tornadoes, they came towards the end of a school day around 1pm. “Why couldn’t they come in the morning so I didn’t have to come to school”, thought Thomas. Thomas heard the sirens whine in the background of an otherwise normal day of school. The students stopped to listen to the echoed sound that seemed to be a layer above anything else that made a sound. It seemed almost apocalyptic, the minutes before a tornado. There was a calmness in the air and the sky looked like leafs in the fall just as they start to change colors. Every student and every teacher intently stared at the sky almost as if waiting for some sort of prophet to return from the heavens with information that could possibly help them in anyway.

It had begun. The students formally stepped out of their classrooms and into the hallways to sit down with her heads against the wall and the thickest textbook, which was always the history textbook, over their heads. Teachers yelled professionally with a slight pinch of fear in their voices for students to get into position. Students and teachers are trained to remain in this position when the fear of a tornado becomes all too real. It was always even more apparent to the students the seriousness of the tornado warning if teachers always sat down in the same position as they did. This was one of those days.

Thomas sat down and looked at his inner-ankles and noticed a bit of hair starting to grow on them. He forgot to wear socks today. Thomas thought about school and what he would do after the tornado warning had pasts and what he would do at home whenever the bell rang. Thomas understood the seriousness of the situation but he couldn’t seem to careless because of how normalized this process had become to him. However, next to Thomas was Louisa, who, according to Thomas looked terrified of the situation and felt the need to constantly look at her surroundings.

“Don’t worry about it,” Thomas said to Louisa.
“Why shouldn’t I? It’s a tornado! That thing can kill us.” Louisa spoke when a hurried voice that seemed to have nowhere to go.
“This happens all the time, like, 10 times a year in Bama.”
“Alabama sounds like hell.” Louisa replied without looking at Thomas.
“It ain’t so bad.”

Thomas looked at Louisa, who seemed in no mood to reply. It was then that the stillness emptied the air around everyone in the school for a brief second before a trickling of hail slammed against the school walls and windows. The sound of category-5 winds slugging hail against structures sounds like a swarm of locust coming to devour whatever lay in its path. The teachers and the students knew that before the tornado came hail and after the hail came the fear. Thomas felt the same fear that Louisa was filling now. Tornado warnings were just tornado warnings but hail meant a tornado was surely going to hit near you.

There was a shattering bang that seemed to come from all directions that caught everyone off guard. A few of the teachers could be heard screaming and ducking next to the children for cover. Thomas quickly looked over at Louisa who seemed stoic and unmoved by the recent progression of  events that continued to turn worse as the minutes went by. Louisa looked over at Thomas and smiled because she knew he knew what she knew, and that everything would be okay regardless of what was to come next.

What came next was the most devastating tornado in Alabama since the early 1900s. Several teachers had died and hundreds of students did too as the tornado destroyed everything in its path. Thomas and Louisa were two of the unlucky ones and perished during the horrifying weather.

 

Advertisements

9/365

Animals: Choose an animal. Write about it

i rest before sleep to remain restless for the majority of the evening, so that up until dawn, i lay awake in a trance of unprovoked thought. i have come to understand and realize that as a person i am not sad, i am not depressed, i am what i allow myself to be. even as i write i begin to feel as though i am elevating upwards towards something new, a sort of enlightenment or sorts, an aufklärung. i understand who i am and why i am this way.

life is a constant struggle of understanding why we are reactionary to principles we can’t control, but if given enough thought, we can understand we are doing what we are inadvertently apart of.

i have found answers beyond what i thought capable. my minds thinks freely and more abstract, i am more human because what makes me human is what i don’t understand about myself. i understand all this now. my body is not and my existence is not, but me as a being that has come to understand what i am and who i am, well that is more than me.

one needs to begin to traverse the perils of self-understanding and wallow in the incomprehensible and appreciate it. we are flawed and we hate what we are, but we are just that.

so then what? we hate ourselves and forlorn? the opposite though, appreciate the very ideas that we are more than our physical self; love yourself for just that.

8/365

Dream-catcher: Write something inspired by a recent dream you had.

 

I don’t sleep. Every night, every dream, every second under the veil, I can see your face all over again; I can see each minuet detail of every facial expression you’ve ever made contorted into one hideous disfigurement of the love you used to represent to me. You come in closer towards my face and do what I can only comprehend as kiss me on the cheek. There is no sensation from it; there is no feeling like there used to be. A part of my mind seems to remember this feeling, like a wind chime remembers a tune after each breeze of wind, but it doesn’t stick onto the conscious level and in the end, only a distant hum can be heard from the wind hitting the chimes.

I miss you. I know that is what my dream is telling me. There isn’t a hidden message in it. Explanation need not be Freudian because the answer is very clear and right there. I miss you. During the day, aside from daydreams that carry me on a treadmill placed in a pit of mud, I can ignore it and just try to move on; It is only when I sleep that I truly can see your face again and here your innocent laugh. Love is the painful process that has recycled my brain into nothing. To cry that it is unfair is clique, but to say that it isn’t is ignorance.

Every sentence she spoke and the words she learned to use so perfectly to form the exact statement I wished to hear, melt in my dreams. I can see the physical words, drenching the floor around me taking the walls with it, and with walls of thoughts crumbling, the viscosity of your words cling to me pulling me down further into your words; and I wonder if I suffocate here in your words, would I die in my sleep like I would in my dream. There is no help shaking them off and like seed pods stuck to wool socks, your words attach themselves to me and soon begin to sprout and root me to the floor. Every thing you’ve ever said to me bounds me to the place in my head that is killing me.

I wake up the same as I do every morning; the only thing that changes is that each day I wake up it becomes more painful than the day before. There is no gauge that is showing me how much longer I can go before the pain and the memory just become too much for me to bear. Nothing seems that real anymore to me, not even your mother. She tries her hardest everyday to be there for me but I can see even in her that she’s crushed physically; she’s a waif; a drawn up figure with nothing of value in a 3 dimensional world because of her habitual morning cocktails. We both have our methods of handling each night, but I couldn’t tell you who’s was healthier.

Every night I hope the same thing – that my dreams aren’t the last place I will see you.

 

7/365

The Rocket-ship: Write about a rocket-ship on it’s way to the moon or a distant galaxy far, far, away

The last group of Americans tersely murmured with one another. There was an overwhelming sense of dread that circulated among the crowd. Today was, what was coined by the Meteorologist, the Great Unveiling of Mankind. All precautions were done to ensure that this day would never come but it seemed that no matter what the city of Peoples did, the end was still inevitable. That is until the Doctor had a great revelation and convinced the town of what would be needed in order to curve the smoldering doom. The plan was simple and everyone, aside from a single family, was fully disposed and eager for the plan to commence. It made perfect sense for the single family to not be supportive of the Doctor’s grandiose idea.

What exactly is the plan? The father asked the 3 men standing by the door in religious garbs. What the father could assume was the leader of the 3 men explained that the Doctor believes that a sacrifice need be made to appease the intergalactic overlords. The Doctor understands the fanatical concept of this demand but, without explaining more than a schoolboy’s thought process, he said that they had simply run out of ideas. The father protested but 2 men pinned him down and the leader left to take his son.

Without fight, the boy was taken by the man. He was too young to really understand what was happening, but the sight of him seeing his father struggling built in him a tantrum-filled fight. The man did what he could to calm the boy down before he simply pulled out a garage-made handgun and shot the boy with it. A small zap of electricity came out of the gun and it stunned the boy, soothing his emotions and putting him into a catatonic state. After a few seconds of the father screaming, he too was soon shot by the stun-gun.

The boy was put into a clay pot shaped like a portly-round bottom, skinny top; he was placed at the bottom of the pot. People gathered around and chanted a pray aloud hoping this would be the final testament to their love for the Holders, as the townsfolk called them. From within the pot can be heard a feint knocking sound against the clay as it was loaded onto the launching-dock that was used to transport objects between the Survivors and the Holders.

“May the Holders be pleased.”
“May the Holders be pleased!”

The clay pot was launched upwards and taken by a lurid blue beam that left everyone watching blinded for a few minutes. Bits of clothing and hair were burned by the impact of the light. Nothing was said after the boy was transported but everyone seemed much more hopeful that the sacrifice would suffice. The Survivors awaited patiently for their fate, while the father of the boy eagerly awaited his chance to see his boy again.