Ashes Demon Child

Relection Of Assignment

2005-11-08T22:37:00.000-08:00

O.K. Well... I Did Enjoy This Assignment. I Enjoy Any Assignment In This Class. No, I'm Not Sucking Up, O.K. Maybe I Am, But It's The Truth. I Really Do Enjoy Creative Writing Assignments. Anyways, On To The Actual Assignment. I Always Like Doing Blogs, And This One Is No Diffrent. O.K. It Is Diffrent, Because This Time I Actually Know Some Coding Tips, And Can Make My Page Unique. It Wasn't All That Difficult To Do, In Fact It's Been Rather Easy On Me. I Didn't Really Dislike Anything Either, Except For Adam's Constant Nagging For Help With The Coding.
Overall I Think That This Was A Great Assignment. We Can Use This Blog Site To Keep Up With All The People We Wouldn't Ordinaraly After The End Of This Class. Also Since We Have Al Already Shared With These People We Can Get Some Feedback On Our Contiued Writings. If We Decide To Keep Them Up.
I Know That I Am Going To... Eventhough This Is My Fourth One. I Don't Actually Use Two Of My Other Ones All That Much Anyway. MySpace Is Honestly The Best Blog Site Page There Is. However, That One Would've Been Much More Difficult To Keep To The Class. Also Alot More Difficult For You To Grade. You Would've Had To Wade Through All Of The Other Stuff On The Page To Get To The Specific Journal/Blogs. Well, That's All That I Really Have To Write At The Moment. I Should Probally Go To Bed Actually. So Off I Go... Good Buh Bye From The Demon Child That Is Ash.

Writing Prompt Number Three

2005-11-08T22:19:00.000-08:00

Again I Couldn’t Decide Which Prompt To Put In Here. Then I Realized That I Should Share With The World The Truth About Santa. So There It Is, The Truth…

You thought you knew everything there was to know about the big jolly red man, this so called Santa. Well you are wrong, he isn’t what you think. He may give out presents, but he takes some as well. Santa provides to the children, and the twisted pedophiles. He takes pictures of your children as you sleep, then puts them on the internet, next to a list… “Tommy is a bad little boy… Suzie is a good little girl.”
The government has been afraid to tell you directly. They can’t catch this freak. It’s all over the place, screaming out to you, the subtle message.
“He knows when you are sleeping, he knows when you’re awake…” He creeps into your house late at night and steals pictures. “He knows if you’ve been bad or good for be good for goodness sake…” A sad little pocket of the world knows too. “He’s making a list, he’s checking it twice. Going to find out who’s naughty or nice…” All of the children on the internet listed alphabetically, asleep in their beds visions of sugar plums dancing in their heads.
The list is updated every year, over 10 and you’re out, you’re lucky. So now you know the truth about the big, jolly, red man. Santa is a actually a big, jolly, red child pornographer.

Writing Prompt Numbre Two

2005-11-08T21:50:00.000-08:00

Ok… Yeah It Took Me A Long Time To Decide Which Journal To Put In Here. I Finally Did It, There Were So Many Good Ones To Pick From. I Have Decided To Insert The Journal That Continued the Wonderful First One… Well Previewed It.

I couldn’t bear the music that made the memory, such a killing thing come to life. Everytime the music starts I see it. That horrible day, when my life changed. I had been sitting out on my porch, coloring, and having a good time, when it happened.
First there was the music, I looked up, excited as usual. Eight years old, and the ice cream lady was coming. That lovely music that heralded the perfection that was a Bomb Pop. I put my best friend at the curb to flag her down, and ran inside to get my allowance. That dollar-fifty that would get us the delicious treat of the summer.
I had seen him come out of his house with the ball, just before I went in. I was in my room when I heard it. The music, and the screech and swerve of tires. The music slowed to a stop, and there was screaming. I ran downstairs, and out the door then I saw it. The lovely ice cream truck up on my curb. He had chased his ball into the street, his parents were yelling at him now.
The ice cream truck had swerved to avoid him. In doing so she ran over my best friend. She shouldn’t have done that. That plastic penguin was the only friend I had. I loved him.

Writing Prompt Numero Uno... Literaly

2005-11-08T21:39:00.000-08:00

That’s Right People… I Am Going To Put My First Prompt Journal In Here. The One That Scared You All. The One That Made You All Realize How Insane I Am. The One That Warned You To Stay Away… Far Away.

They think I don’t know. They think that I don’t understand, but I do. I understand all too well. I get what they’re saying. I’m not crazy, I now exactly what I was doing. It’s not my fault that she died. She needed to, wanted to. She deserved what she got, and she knew it. She understood, why don’t they? She shouldn’t have done what she did, but she did it. So I did what I had to do, and all they tell me is, “You shouldn’t have done that.”
Now I’m in trouble. I don’t understand why. I know they think I’m crazy, but I did what was needed. She knew what I was doing was good. She understood, they didn’t see the look of peace on her face. I did, I saw it all. I saw what she did, and I saw what needed to be done. I did it for her, if she had done it herself she wouldn’t have made it into heaven.
Suicide is a sin. She couldn’t do it herself, so I had to. I did nothing wrong. They all think I did, but I didn’t. She knew the punishment for the crime, and accepted it. So why cant they. They think I’m crazy. If she didn’t want to die, she shouldn’t have broken my lawn ornament. I loved that plastic penguin.

Three Poems

2005-11-08T21:01:00.000-08:00

Someday
Someday I want to climb a mountain
Someday I will act on stage
Someday I will see my own child grow
Someday I will finish a book
Someday I will publish a book
Someday I will act in a courtroom
Someday I will rule the world
Someday I will rule myself
Someday I will climb a mountain,
Real or imagined.

One Window
One window is all I need
In order to understand
What it is they all hide
And what keeps me from them
I am protected and safe here
But I want to be with them
Out there, outside.
One window is all I need
To set myself free
And join those with which
I long to be

Writing
The pencil always seemed so normal. A stick, used to express creativity. Now it has transformed. It’s not what it used to be. When I’m writing it turns to a weapon. Cold and hard, unforgiving. It slices through the paper, and brings a harshness to my words. Sometimes it is a rose, with thorns bleeding me dry. It gives my writing a fragrance, light and sweet, but a metallic tang always follows. It becomes a viper, coiled and ready to strike into the hearts of those I write for. Then it is what it is, a pencil, and a part of my hand.

Fiction Best Write

2005-11-08T19:07:00.000-08:00

She stared at him from across the room. Her hair fell into her eyes, she didn’t bother to brush it away as she stared at him. “Shawn, he was such a pretty boy, with a pretty boy name.” I mumbled interrupting my thoughts.
How I wished she would someday look at me like that. Her let her hair rest across her lips and just watched him. Shawn was unattainable, the lead defender on our football team with the cheerleader girlfriend that you would expect such a guy to have. His girlfriend was sitting next to him looking at him too, with those flirty eyes. Why did they all look at him, no one ever looked at me. I couldn’t see why they didn’t, I am fairly good looking, or at least I think so. I’ve got green eyes and black hair, maybe it be better if I had blue eyes and blonde hair. If I dyed my hair and got colored contacts maybe she’d look at me like she looked at him. Maybe she’d mistake me for him and go for the attainable target. The copycat version of him, maybe. What if I joined the football team instead of taking pictures of every great tackle he makes. I could make some tackles of my own. I’ve never really had an interest in football, but I’m pretty good at it. So why couldn’t I? Why didn’t I? Maybe I should.
“Mr. Wald. Could I have your attention please?” my teacher, Mr. Smith called.
“Huh? Yeah, sorry, I’m paying attention.”
“Good, now as I was saying…The projects will be due on February 19th. Two weeks from today. I know, I know,” he said as a loud groan spread across the room, “Not a lot of time for chatting with your friends. That’s why I’m picking your groups.” Another loud groan, “That’s right me, not you. So here’s how it goes…” I zoned out until I heard my name, “Amanda Lee, Valerie Matheson, Daniel Wald, and Shawn Zane…next group”
Great I’m in a group with Shawn, Amanda, and Valerie. Why did Mr. Smith love torturing me so much. The guy I envied and two of the cheerleader bimbos that were friends with his girlfriend. Mr. Smith must have seen the annoyance in my eyes because he asked me to stay after class.
“Dan, I know those people are not your friends. You are a good strong worker, and Shawn is as well, he just doesn’t seem like it. With all of you working together you should be able to get an A. Shawn can manage a lot of the work and so can you. I want Amanda and Val to have some kind of participation so have them present.” He concluded.
“Alright I’ll try to work with them on this project.” I responded as I walked out the door and into Shawn.
“Hey, Dan, I’ve got a question for you.”
“Umm, yeah, ok. What is it?”
“Can I actually do some of the work?”
“What?” I asked in surprise. Why would he ask me a question like that? Before I could ask he answered for me.
“Whenever I get partnered with the smart or studious kids they tell me I don’t have to do anything, and to go play video games. I hate video games.”
“Umm, Sure. You can do some work. You want Amanda and Val to do anything?” I asked slowly. I was very confused. Why the hell was he telling me all this?
“No, they wouldn’t do anything anyways. Thanks man. I’ve got to get to practice, so I’ll call you tomorrow?”
“What? Oh yeah… yeah see you.”
“Bye,” Shawn said as he gave me a backwards hand wave.
I turned slowly and as I walked away I kept looking back at him. Why did he say all of that to me? Why, why, why, it was the only thing I could think as I walked home. I turned onto my driveway and sat on my front steps and waited for my mom to come home and let me in. She doesn’t trust me with keys. She’s terrified one day that I’ll bring a girl home, or something. That’s a laugh what girl would go home with me they’d all go with him wouldn’t they. God! My life sucks. I’m a junior in high school and I have to walk home from school and sit outside on the porch because my mom is paranoid. I think I should ask for a key. At least if she won’t let me drive to school I should have a key. As the car pulled into the driveway, I realized that Shawn didn’t know my number.
“Hey, Danny. How was your day?” She asked as she got out of the car.
“It was great mom. Who wouldn’t like having to go to school and having a bunch of morons talk about random crap that doesn’t really mean anything. Not me, I love it.” “Cut with the sarcasm Danny, and help with the groceries.” She was trying to unlock the door while carrying three bags full of junk. I grabbed two bags and followed her into the kitchen. We started unloading groceries without another word. Ahh, routine. How was your day Danny? Great! Enough sarcasm. Unload groceries, go to rooms, come down for supper, more random talk, make even more small talk during the dishes, and go back to solitary confinement in rooms.
“I’ll be in my room doing homework. OK mom?“
“Alright just keep your music down. Please.” She called up to me as I went up the stairs to my room.
The first thing I did was put in my Bastard Mix CD and crank it up. Then I moved to my desk, reached under the drawer to get my notebook that I’d hidden there when my dad left, and opened it to a blank page. I was near the end of it now, a five subject notebook almost full. Just looking at it made it seem as if he’d been gone all the longer. It was full of short stories, poems, swearwords, anything I felt like putting in there. All the first section had to say was…“WHY?” that’s it. It was phrased differently each page. I didn’t just write why a million times. I had poems trying to figure out why he left. Why I felt sad, and not pissed off. That was from five years ago when he first left. The second section was the second year, started on the one year anniversary of his leaving. It was then that I got pissed, a whole year and not a single attempt at contacting his ex-wife, or me. Not even on my birthday, nothing at all. That’s where most of the swearing comes in, “I fucking hate you, dad!” is written all over the place, almost every five lines. The third section was when I finally started to accept my father for what he’d done to us. Again it was started on the anniversary of his death, that’s what we call it now, at least. My mom went to a lawyer, and told him what my dad did, and she got legally divorced. She’s never tried to date, I think she just wanted to be rid on him completely. His name had been on all the bills and stuff, I don’t think she could stand it anymore. The third section still had a lingering hint of the pain my father caused, but I moved on to just writing about anything that came into mind. My first official short story is in this section. I called it Invisible. It was about a kid that moved to a new town and didn’t fit in at all. In fact, no one seemed to notice him. He figured out that all the pain he held made him that way. So he learned to deal with it, but when he finally did everyone had moved on, he was all alone. I was proud of it, it won this writing contest. I was the only 8th grader ever to win.
Of course my mom is a psychologist, and thought I was talking about myself. In a way I guess I was, but I think I was just writing a story that people could relate to. The fourth section was more stories that I thought people would relate to. My psychologist, (I wasn’t allowed to see my mom, special interest or some such shit), thought I had so many disorders he had to give me to a different psychologist. He was having me write during the week, (In a different notebook. I didn’t tell them about this one) what I felt. I made up some of the dumbest stuff. Later I turned my favorites from each month into full length short stories, that filled the fourth section. After the second psychologist decided there wasn’t anything really wrong with me, I started this section. The fifth and final section. It’s everything that I’ve decided was relevant for me to write, some of it embellished into page-long fantasies. Lately they’ve all been about her, and him. I think the first shrink was actually right on the money when he said I had an unnatural attachment disorder. The second guy just thought that was more stuff brought on by my invented writing.
“Daniel! Daniel? Dinner!” my mom called up the stairs to me.
As I trundled down the stairs I responded, “Alright, Mom! What is it?”
“It’s, umm, leftover lasagna for you.” she said, standing over by the sink wringing her hands.
“What do you mean for me aren’t you eating?” I asked, sitting down, and giving her an odd look.
“No, I have a date tonight.” she responded uncomfortably.
I nearly fell out of my chair. When I regained my senses I said, “A what?”
“A date, alright. I have a date. I’ve been divorced legally for three years, and separated for five. I have a right to date.” she defensively responded, shuffling from the fridge to the microwave.
“Ok mom relax, I was just asking.” She nervously flitted around the room going to the refrigerator every ten seconds to see if her hair was still in place. Smoothing her blouse she turned to me and asked, “Do I look ok?”
“Yeah, mom. You look great.”
“Thanks, honey,” she said turning and smiling at me.
“Who’s this date with anyways?” I asked with a slight smile of my own.
“Why don’t you answer the door. I don’t think you know him,” she replied as calmly as she could, “Oh! God! He’s here” I walked over to the door wondering who my mom could’ve met in this town.
I opened the door and stared in shock, “Mr. Smith! What are you doing here?”
“I have a date with Mary Kast?” He said slowly, and confused.
“Holy Shit!” I muttered under my breath before turning and shouting back down the hallway, “Mom!”
“Yeah, honey? Hello, Adam.” After an awkward moment of silence my mom said, “Do you know each other?”
“I’m Dan’s English teacher.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that. Well, I knew you were an English teacher I didn’t know Dan was in your class.”
“I didn’t know you were Dan’s mother. Your last names are different.”
I cut in, “I kept my dad’s name, she went back to her maiden name.”
After a few seconds of shuffling around, Mr. Smith said, “Oh, well this has been sufficiently uncomfortable.”
“Yeah, it has.” I stated hurredly, “Have a good time, mom. I’ll do the dishes. Bye, Mr. Smith.”
“Bye, Dan.” My mom kissed me on the cheek and mouthed I love you before shutting the door behind her. I stood in the hall staring at the door. My mom was out with my English teacher! What the hell kind of parallel world did I walk into! I like Mr. Smith, but why did he have to date my mom. It was weird to think about so I focused on my stomach, I turned around and headed for the kitchen. My eyes fell on a piece of paper on the counter. I picked it up, and almost immediately dropped it due to shock. My dad had written us a letter! I looked at the date it was from. It was dated 2 months after he left. My mom told me he never wrote. Why was I having all these revelations now! My mom was out with my teacher, my dad had written us, and Shawn Zane wasn’t the asshole I had imagined him to be for all my life. I sat at the table and read the letter while trying to eat as much as I could. My dad said he was sorry for leaving and that he promised to write as often as he could. He promised to write as often as he could, and my mom had never shown me any letters. Had she been getting rid of them as soon as she could? Had he even sent anymore? If he did, why wouldn’t she show them to me? I put the letter down, and finished my cold lasagna.
After quickly scrubbing the dishes I left them in the sink to air-dry, then walked to my room. I paced around the area around my bed, finally deciding what to do I strode to the second half of my room and, pulled my notebook out of its hiding spot and started writing furiously. Could all of this really be happening? I wrote a quick story about a boy who falls into an alternate dimension, and ends up changing his actually history. It was rough and made no sense, but all the same it made me calmer. Writing always did. I turned on my CD player, and walked back to the area that my bed is in. Dropping into my sunken floor I flopped down onto my bed. I must have fallen asleep. I woke to bright sun shining through my window, nearly blinding me. I blinked and looked at my clock, it was almost noon. I must have been really tired. I got out of bed, and stumbled to the shower. After I had sufficiently woken myself up with the cold spray of water I headed downstairs.
“Mom! Mom! Where are you?” I looked around the kitchen and headed towards the living room. Before I got there I saw a note pinned to our bulletin board. “Dear Dan, I had a good time with Mr. Smith last night, and he asked me out for a quick lunch today. You were asleep when I got home, and you still are. I’ve decided to let you sleep. I should be home sometime before 5. Love you, Mom” I stared at my mom’s loopy handwriting for at least 5 min before I heard the phone ring.
“Hello?” I nearly dropped the phone when I heard the voice on the other end of the line.
“Hey, Dan.”
“Shawn?”
“Yeah, it’s me. Did you want to start working today?” I just stood there holding the phone, in silence. “Dan? You still there?”
“Yeah, I am. Sorry. Sure we could start today. Where do you want to meet?” “Umm…I don’t know, I just thought we’d start working today.” I could almost hear him blush over the phone, this is so weird.
“Huh. Well…how about your house?”
He replied hurridly, “I don’t know my brothers and sisters are a hassle. What about yours?”
“We’d have to do all of our research through the book. I don’t have a computer.” “That’s fine. We can come over here to type everything, and print up the posters, later.” He said, if possible, even faster.
“Umm…OK. That’s fine. Do you need directions?”
“No, I know where you live. You’re only 5 blocks away from me.”
“Am I? I didn’t know that.” I was really confused now.
“Well…I’ll be at your house soon.” He seemed to have calmed down now, maybe I was imagining things.
“O.K. Bye.”
“Bye.”
I stared at the phone for a full five minutes before I decided I should clean up the house a bit. I immediately ran up the stairs and to my room. When I got there I started throwing things in my closet. Then I realized that my room was a hopeless mess.
“At least I know I don’t have OCD.” I muttered to myself, while rummaging through my things for my books. I finally found them, and rushed down the stairs again. When I crash landed in the kitchen I heard the doorbell. He was here already. Shawn Zane at my house to work on a project, this was unbelievable.

My Poetry Best Write

2005-11-08T08:40:00.000-08:00

All She Is To Us
It’s difficult to understand
how I feel.
She has been working
so hard
to get well.
It’s difficult to watch her struggle.

She tried
so hard
to leave us all behind.
It was
so hard
for all of us to hear.
She pretended that
she was fine.
It isn’t what she felt.

She just didn’t see
how much she means.
It seems that we didn’t do
all we could.
She is getting help,
getting better.
It’s all so painful for us.

She feels the same, we know.
It’s horrible
what we all go through.
She knows
that’s why
she wants to leave.

Debate
Sitting on the bus
Riding along
Early in the morning

All of us talking
laughing
the day hasn’t even started

We arrive
wait
and start

Finally its over
we file
into the auditorium
laughing

The official
celebration
is over
Our private one starts

Back on the bus
We talk and laugh
Congratulating ourselves

We are back at school
Waiting for rides
Ours arrives
We leave
Waiting
For the next
day to come.

Perfect Sense
I believe you
Skid row
And god
Save the queen
Chinese don’t speak English
Because they’re poor
Yeah that makes
Perfect sense

The gnomes
They are the cause
Of all war
They’re so small
It’s cowardly
To hit them
So war starts
Perfect sense

I don’t know
Vacuum salesmen
They do crazy things
Pastries are fat
Salmon
And cherry pop tarts
It all makes
Perfect sense

I Know That It Makes No Sense…That Is Indeed The Point!

My NonFiction Best Write

2005-11-07T18:11:00.000-08:00

The cheering in the stands deafens me. My voice is as loud as the rest. High School Homecoming, the greatest football game of the season. The game has already started, Kirby and I are five minutes late. We fight our way through the crowd to our traditional spot. The first thing that we see is my fellow “Orch Dork” Josh with his arm around Rachel. She really doesn’t look all that comfortable. Kirby and I have made it to the top of the bleachers and are staring at the two of them. As are the rest of our friends, almost simultaneously they all stop staring at the two of them and turn to me. Abby grabs my arm and points, “Do you see that!” They all look like I am the deciding vote on reality.
“Yes, I do. What the hell is going on?”
“I don’t know he just put his arm around her when we got here.”
We all go back to staring at them, finally not being able to stand it anymore I poke Rachel in the arm…hard. She turns around with wide eyes.
“Come here. I need to talk to you.”
She pries herself out of Josh’s arms and walks to me. We all immediately attack like the vultures we are. Her sister, Amanda, is the first to attack.
“Do you like Josh?”
“What was that about?”
“Why did you have your arm around him?”
“What the hell is going on?”
She continues staring with wide eyes and shudders.
“Ick, no! He just put his arm around me. I don’t like him!”
We all continue staring at her, Josh seems completely oblivious to what is going on, two feet away from him. I look to Kirby. He is standing a little off to the side and watching the show. The others satisfied with Rachel’s answers turn away to the game once more. Amanda and I aren’t anywhere near satisfied, we need more meat. Or at least more things to make fun of.
“Kirbit! Come over here and claim your girlfriend.”
“Yeah! Come and protect my sister.”
Amanda and I have been planning on being sisters-in-law since we found out our siblings were the same age and different genders. It is our greatest ambition. To our amazement Kirby complies with my request, and walks over to put his arm around Rachel. Now that has gotten Josh’s attention. With only the skills Kirby could have, he glares at Josh and hugs Rachel tighter. Now we all know my brother is kidding, but he does it all too well. Josh quickly moves closer to Ben, and away from Kirby. All of us are grinning like the crazy people we are. Our focus moves back to the game, and Kirby’s arm doesn’t move, but don’t think that escaped our notice. Rachel is called away from Kirby by her friend, and is moved closer to Josh, who immediately turns his focus to Rachel. We all notice this and tell Kirby to take care of his property by taking Josh out. Again he does as told, not only is this amazing because of Rachel, but because he never listens. My brother walks over to Josh, and grabs his shirt. Honestly he is going to be the greatest actor of all time. There is an odd sort of dance happening on the other side of the bleachers. We are all fascinated by the poetry of the motions. Kirby and Josh are swinging around, laughing along with the rest of us, and nearly falling off the bench. Kirby lets Josh go and walks back over to me with Rachel right next to him, close again.
Josh is attempting to be the pimp of the evening, and is failing miserably while my brother has his arm around three girls. All of which are my friends, and one of which is Rachel’s sister. He has quite taken over the Ketter family, only little Emily is left, and…well…Ted. I’m pretty sure Kirby won’t touch him though. As a mark of Josh’s complete lack of skill, all of the girls are now over by Kirby and I, and it’s only halftime.
Now this is where I ended my best-write but I continued it later…
The band is marching, and Josh is edging closer to Abby. We are all keeping an eye on Josh. He used to be normal…now he’s just horny. It’s strange that he keeps going after any girl with legs, but the one he wants. Amanda is sitting in front of Kirby. I am on his right, Rachel and Abby are on his left. Josh leans over and attempts to kiss Abby, she stops him, but Josh isn’t daunted. Abby turns away from him quickly, as Josh laughs. Kirby and Rachel lean forward so Abby can talk to me. She explains what just transpired, and Kirby is called upon again to defend his ladies honor. He stands up, and so does the crowd, halftime is over. Kirby walks over to Josh again. Before he can grab his shirt, Josh swings, and smacks Emily’s ass. A very pissed off Emily turns to see Josh standing there with a look of shock on his face.
Now it’s over…I may add more later…maybe

Creative Writing Blog Page

2005-11-07T15:45:00.000-08:00

Ok Then This Is Going To Be My Fourth Blog Spot Page...Which I Will Maintain Just As Well As I Do The Others...Hopefully. So We Need To Fill Out Six Diffrent Posts With Our Stuff From Class, Which I Do On My Other Blog Pages Anyway...So This Won't Be Hard At All. I Guess I Am Going To Have Seven Posts, Though, Since I Am Using One On This. Oh, Well. That's All I'm Going To Do For This One Though. fin