Compare and Contrast Essay

 

         Rights, inAmericathis ever-present battle has claimed many lives, for the African American population some seemed worth it; but in other ways we wonder why there even had to be a battle fought. While the African Americans are now sleeping sound in nice houses and have not only the right to vote but pretty much anything they want, something hasn’t settled right in the far west. Native Americans have been denied rights for hundreds of years and we’ve forgotten all about them unfortunately. This essay will compare and contrast the rights of African Americans VS the rights of Native Americans.

            To be fair the struggle of the black population has been, to say the least, hell. Slavery was started and then brought toAmerica, a “free” country. Before long the African Americans began to want the freedom everyone else had, after all it is the land of the free. Despite their mongrel efforts to try and have some say, their fight was lost by the mere set back of colour. You’d be surprised on how much is said by a person’s skin. When Jackie Robinson started to play for the Montreal baseball team in Canada, his soon to be coach (a Mississippian), complained to the initiator (the one who put Jackie on the team) saying, “Do you really think that n—-r is human?”. This is just one example of what was to be overcome in the following years; it wasn’t until the 1960s until the Civil Rights activists really started to gear up.

            But you can’t help but think, “What about the Native Americans?” Well that is a good question; since the day Christopher Columbus set foot on American soil the Indians have taken a substantial amount of abuse. So much so, that a lot of the original tribes on the continent have been wiped out completely. Andrew Jackson is often put in the spotlight for causing a lot of toil and strife, pushing the Cherokees out of Georgia after making a promise not to, then making them walk a dreadful march (known as the Trail of Tears) only to walk to a place where they would be attacked by fleets of soldiers and endure other horrors.

            Now while the African American and Native American rights are similar in many ways, they are also very different. Native Americans live on separate reservations and are a nation in themselves, they have their own government and own laws; the only time they are subject to the “white man’s law” is when they have committed a federal offence. African American’s live among us, share jobs with us, there (for the most part) isn’t a discrepancy between the white race and the black race (except for background). The thing is about a black person is that, they can make it in to-days society; while if a Native American leaves his reservation (and fails at his dreams) he is not welcome home anymore.

            To conclude, both races inAmericahave gone through extremely difficult situations and have fought countless battles to stand up for what they believe in. African Americans won their battle, but the Native American’s sadly didn’t; and that is the sad thing, we never think about them because they don’t live among us. And we exalt the African American population’s struggles but forget about the struggle that was for a lost cause. I hope one-day to see the Native American population become apart of modernAmerica, it would be a beautiful thing forAmericato finally put the terrible past behind them for good.

Reflective Essay

It’s not to say it’s much of an experience, but more of just a place where quiet is finally heard. Scattered around an old home, where a friend lives, are leaves and a large grass field to the right beside her small country home. In the field beside an old (unused) greenhouse there are trees that make a cubby. Behind the house are a dozen more tall trees, and just beyond that lay rows of haystacks; all lined up in a perfect route. To the left a couple yards is an old dairy barn, where the remnants of a rusty milk container still stand high. There is still an old red truck in that barn, which I’ve ridden on the back of plenty of times. Still, behind this and the hay are acres of beautiful farmland; strewn with cattle, high grass, and maybe a pond or two. And even further so, runs Old Hickory Creek; a beautiful road of streaming water, that passes through most of the property.

This place that is described so deeply in detail is my second home, a place where everything is beautiful and nothing hurts. I’ve seen different sky in many different places, but the firmament here is so much bluer. If a king could wear the skies as a robe, he would choose this one, the one over this quaint little farm. The clouds could very well be made into a crown, with the singing birds as his jewels. This king would be a happy king, if his world could be condensed into this croft. Despite my dull efforts to try and become happy with living in paradise, the winter inside my soul still longs to be sitting on top of the aligned haystacks looking out at a beautiful world; which is sometimes in snow.

There is an old swing set sitting next to a large tree, Sara and I used to pretend we were flying. Even now, when I sit on one of the small swings and push my feet back and forth; I still think I can fly, but I’m afraid that my wings will break. And I will be left in the dirt, with my best friend laughing at my stupidity. Stupidity, not because I thought I could fly, but because I was flying on a swing set made for children; I’m not much of a child anymore (or child-sized for that matter). In the garage an old line of rubber boots sit waiting to be used, they’ve been there as long as I can remember. Often, they are shoved on and worn to the red truck that is waiting in the old farmhouse. We just as often, climbed into the back as Sara’s  father revved up the engine, backed out of the building, and had us open the gate that held in all of the livestock. We closed it behind us as we climbed back in, slowly driving down a dirt path that was worn and bumpy.

I can tell you a lot of things about this gorgeous place, I can try and make you see what I see and hear what I hear. But I know that it will never mean as much to you as it does to me. This place is a memory, and it is a fond memory that holds many events. I’ve never wanted to be back in a place so beautiful, so much so, that I find myself dreaming about it at night to the point where it keeps me awake, and to an even further point where I think my dreams have become reality. Yet, I realize sooner or later I am terribly far away from being where I want to be; on an old farm in Tennessee looking out at a city of cattle feasting on grains and taking an occasional bath in a murky pond. When it is cold you can see their breath in the daylight, like mist fogging up a road; and in the spring their children frolic in the new grain that is about to be cut down. Try sleeping at night when that is on your mind, try sleeping also when you know part of your family is there every day, and try sleeping whenever you realize that their life goes on, but you’re dreaming about the past. I do reflect on such beautiful memories, because this place holds so many. So many memories, indeed.

A Drunk and Tired Heart

 

There is not much to say about how true the words are when a drunken heart speaks,

Or how true the words of a heart whose only demise was to sleep.

One thing is for absolute certain, the sentences put together by a tired, drunken soul

Are the most beautiful words I have ever read.

So much so, the old and stubborn sun stopped shining for a day,

And kept the world at watch.

Hoping that someone would know what to say

Back to the man who spoke his drunken, tired, thoughts

I Sway Like a Tree-

 

I sway like a tree in the middle of the night,

Waiting for my leaves to take flight.

And like wings that sprout from my back,

I take three steps and fear in what I lack.

I lack to fly, I lack to sing.

I lack of almost everything.

Except

Courage…

Descriptive Essay – Eyes

Eyes eyes eyes. What are the first things you notice about people? Eyes eyes eyes.  How their hair falls in their face? Eyes eyes eyes. Perhaps how they stand, or if they make eye contact and fumble with words while talking to you? Eyes, eyes are what I notice…whether they glimmer, shine, or sparkle; or maybe they are tarnished, lonely, and hiding behind salt water. Either way it’s their eyes, their eyes.

Everyone has eyes or has had eyes, and if not everyone at least wants eyes. So why do certain ones stick out to me? The old man on the side of the road in Bangkok, his leg filled with puss and infection, it hurt to watch him. But that isn’t what was heartbreaking, no not at all. His eyes were an old movie to me, all in black and white. Swimming in brown, with swirls of beautiful rainbow…lost. How on earth could I describe you to what his eyes were like? With his black pupils lost behind his dark brown irises, a hand formed from them and reached out to grab me. They grabbed me and brought be down to his world, a world I saw with his colourblind eyes.

Everything has a way of finding its way into my heart. No matter how wretched. You’d be surprised on how wretched eyes can be…especially when they are always looking at you.  The lady with no arms stared up at me with horrific eyes, so red and disturbed and longing. I ached to tell her something beautiful, if only I could, if only if only. But I could not, no. We cannot just go around telling people how beautiful they are! Can we? Shouldn’t we? Oh her eyes, if a brown ocean would be considered beautiful I would want to swim in her eyes. But I’d be so afraid I would get lost in darkness, have you ever been on the ocean at night? Or even a lake for that matter? You can’t see anything; it’s frightening to say the least, but it’s always frightening when it’s dark.

That blind man, his eyes hidden behind a lens of black. I could see through it, just like I could see through that cup someone had placed in his hand. Everything fell right out of it, he wasn’t loved. No one loved him or even cared, or wanted to for that matter. Was it because they couldn’t see his eyes? His sightless eyes?  I wish to be a ghost behind this man to see how many people would walk by his misery and feel a hint of remorse. I have a feeling there would be hardly any…if any. I would count how many people would lean down and put a shining glimmer of hope into his cup, or maybe even a scrap of a tree.

Missing, a man stood next to me. His kind heart I could feel through his stare. Not much was needed to be said, if anything. He stuck out his hand longing for me to shake it; I can’t believe the thoughts that ran through my mind. Should I shake this man’s hand?   Immediately my hand shot out after thinking such a disgusting thought.

“Happy N…new Year,” the man struggled to say, with his overly swollen thyroid gland preventing some movement for his impending smile.

“Happy New Year,” I said back smiling as wide as possible.

“Happ..y N…n..n…ew Year,” he walked off letting go of my weak hand, though his was  rough and strong from years of labour and toil; his eyes were beautiful and his hands were strong. His eyes, his eyes, are the eyes that don’t let me sleep at night much anymore. As well as a few of the faces I mentioned in this essay. I will tell you one thing before I go, no matter how dark the eyes or how bright…they all tell a story, a horrifically, beautiful story.

Eyes-Descriptive Essay

      Eyes eyes eyes. What are the first things you notice about people? Eyes eyes eyes. How their hair falls in their face? Eyes eyes eyes. Perhaps how they stand, or if they make eye contact and fumble with words while talking to you? Eyes, eyes are what I notice…whether they glimmer, shine, or sparkle; or maybe they are tarnished, lonely, and hiding behind salt water. Either way it’s their eyes, their eyes.

       Everyone has eyes or has had eyes, and if not everyone at least wants eyes. So why do certain ones stick out to me? The old man on the side of the road in Bangkok, his leg filled with puss and infection, it hurt to watch him. But that isn’t what was heartbreaking, no not at all. His eyes were an old movie to me, all in black and white. Swimming in brown, with swirls of beautiful rainbow…lost. How on earth could I describe you to what his eyes were like? With his black pupils lost behind his dark brown irises, a hand formed from them and reached out to grab me. They grabbed me and brought be down to his world, a world I saw with his colourblind eyes.

      Everything has a way of finding its way into my heart. No matter how wretched. You’d be surprised on how wretched eyes can be…especially when they are always looking at you. The lady with no arms stared up at me with horrific eyes, so red and disturbed and longing. I ached to tell her something beautiful, if only I could, if only if only. But I could not, no. We cannot just go around telling people how beautiful they are! Can we? Shouldn’t we? Oh her eyes, if a brown ocean would be considered beautiful I would want to swim in her eyes. But I’d be so afraid I would get lost in darkness, have you ever been on the ocean at night? Or even a lake for that matter? You can’t see anything; it’s frightening to say the least, but it’s always frightening when it’s dark.

      That blind man, his eyes hidden behind a lens of black. I could see through it, just like I could see through that cup someone had placed in his hand. Everything fell right out of it, he wasn’t loved. No one loved him or even cared, or wanted to for that matter. Was it because they couldn’t see his eyes? His sightless eyes? I wish to be a ghost behind this man to see how many people would walk by his misery and feel a hint of remorse. I have a feeling there would be hardly any…if any. I would count how many people would lean down and put a shining glimmer of hope into his cup, or maybe even a scrap of a tree.

       Missing, a man stood next to me. His kind heart I could feel through his stare. Not much was needed to be said, if anything. He stuck out his hand longing for me to shake it; I can’t believe the thoughts that ran through my mind. Should I shake this man’s hand? Immediately my hand shot out after thinking such a disgusting thought.

 “Happy N…new Year,” the man struggled to say, with his overly swollen thyroid gland preventing some movement for his impending smile.

“Happy New Year,” I said back smiling as wide as possible.

“Happ..y N…n..n…ew Year,” he walked off letting go of my weak hand, though his was rough and strong from years of labour and toil; his eyes were beautiful and his hands were strong. His eyes, his eyes, are the eyes that don’t let me sleep at night much anymore. As well as a few of the faces I mentioned in this essay. I will tell you one thing before I go, no matter how dark the eyes or how bright…they all tell a story, a horrifically beautiful story.

The Last Embrace – 2nd Place; Penang Challenge

The Last Embrace 

 The darkness was closing in; our breath was the only noise that was heard for miles. Fatal cries were, to say the least, apart of my life now; but none of that mattered. Nothing mattered anymore. Troubles had been following us, well, for years. Only because the one thing that no one thought existed rose up from ashes and destroyed the world. The cities were in flames, flames and smoke. Red with glimmers of orange and yellow were the only things you could see for miles. There was no death because no one was alive, only us.

 ***

When the world began everything was beautiful. Hills looked almost like mountains, and mountains had no words to describe them. There were no dark colours, only bright ones that made even God jealous. We boasted. We thought there was no way in hell that our world wasn’t ours. Funny the things that come from hell. To tell you what the creature is would be the end of me. So, I will just describe him. It rose from the volcano where the city of Pompeii used to dwell, the town still riddled with charred ruins even after 6,000 years. The wings of the creature stretched on for what seemed to be days. They were black, torn, and withered from lack of use. Yet, he found his way into the blackened skies. It breathed fire, but not just fire; it breathed lies masked as truths. Black diamonds fell from the sky. They were apart of the creature, and slowly they took over. Yes, this was a brilliant beast, spawned in the darkest depths of hell; made with the devil’s bare hands. The day he rose from the ground was the day our world’s colours faded. *** His hands slid around my waist, gripping it tightly as we stood on the porch and watched the blue skies turn to a deep red. “It’s finally happened Grayson. We all thought it was a lie…and now the sky is blood red.” “Emery…” Grayson placed his chin on my shoulder and whispered in my ear, “Our hands have destroyed beautiful things. God made us with his hands.” “This thing hasn’t come from God. It came from Lucifer.” My face turned to his, so our lips met; not knowing it would be the last before chaos enveloped the earth.

***

 We watched the world burn. It started from the eastern side and headed our way. You could feel it. When half of the world’s countries are in flames, it changes the all around temperature drastically. The images sent from space were quickly disposed of, though some people got their hands on them. From “God’s view” you could see smoke rising from the ozone…Earth was a chimney. We hid in our safe cell until we decided our best option was to take the long journey across the ocean. Now going back to when I said everyone was dead; everyone was, so to speak, dead. But, they were not gone; no, not at all. They roamed around through the flames in a trance, not knowing that their souls had been sucked out by the diamonds that had fallen from the sky. The diamonds were kept in the Garden of Hyperion, and it was the one place on Earth that hadn’t been destroyed. This is where our journey would end. If one person could liberate the stockpile of souls that were locked away in the black diamonds, the creature would be destroyed and peace restored.

 “Grayson, how many days have we been in Rome?” I put my hand on his shoulder and shook him slightly, trying to wake him from his sleep.

 “Mmm, four I think sweetheart.” He rubbed his eyes and looked over at me.

 “And how many more until we reach Greece?” His face was corroded with dirt, but he was still beautiful. The piercing blue eyes that I’d fallen in love with five years ago hadn’t aged one bit. None of his features had aged. He just looked, well, hopeless.

 “At least one more week, baby.” He stood up, and started packing our things. I watched him as I finally decided to sit up and stretch. It was time for a long hike, a journey through a nightmare. Trekking through fields of conflagration mixed with apathetic inhabitants, who could barely look up at a passerby, was horrifying. Trekking through it everyday made your eyes go numb and dim to what was around you, and made your body lethargic to anything and everything else remaining; consequently, this expedition was draining us. Endless fields of cadavers were everywhere. The only thing they could do was wander underneath the blood sky unaware of where they were or of what they had become. By the third day into our hike from Rome to the Garden of Hyperion, we realized water was starting to run out. By the fourth day it was all gone. We located a safety cell about thirty miles away from where we needed to be. The gate to the garden was at least fifty more miles away from our checkpoint. Inside the large steel compartment hidden underground were basic necessities including what we desperately needed…water.

“Emery, can you grab my bag? I left it on the bed.” I nodded and went into the next room, which consisted of three beds, one bunk bed and one larger bed. I grabbed the bag, and looked at the photos on the wall. They were an attempt to see what was left of our once beautiful world, before everyone was taken over by the beast. Beautiful smiling faces plastered the wall. I wondered where they were.

 “Emery?!” “Yeah, yeah! Sorry, I’m coming. Just got side tracked.” I handed him the bag, and he started stuffing bottles water into every crevice possible.

 “About how long until we will reach the gate?”

 “Two days. We will make it to our checkpoint tonight…we have to.” He took my hand and pulled me over to him, “I know you are exhausted. I am too.” I looked off to the side; he put his hand on my face, and made me look at him, “It will be over soon. I promise…okay?” I nodded, “I love you.” His eyes softened with the three uncomplicated words.

 “I love you too, Grayson. Are we ready to go?”

 “Yes, yes we are.” He held onto my hand as we stepped out into the smoldering heat. Making it thirty more miles to our checkpoint, we stayed the night in another cold room with faces accompanying the walls with their delightful presence.

***

Fifty more miles to go. It was a step by step process. A process, in which even with little steps, I thought my legs were going to fall off completely. Then I figured I would have to crawl the rest of the way. I have yet to come to a conclusion on which would contribute to the most misery. Ten miles away from the gate, the sky started changing from the dark red to black. Each step closer to the gate, the darker the atmosphere became, draining us emotionally and physically. Grayson’s hand found its way back into mine, squeezing it tightly. The creature was watching us with his eyes, his many eyes, that gleamed a bright yellow; and oh, how they pierced through the soul and mind creating such terrible nightmares. When Grayson and I arrived at the gate, it was hardly midday. But, it was as black as night with no moon in sight. Neither were their any stars, comets, nor anything else we consider striking. The entrance was, to say the least, beautiful in everyway embellished with jewels, gold, and anything else you could possibly imagine. It was large, and stood almost two hundred and fifty feet high. Inside rivers, hills, valleys and mountains, flowers and beauty were visible, but most of all you could see the souls. Grayson looked over at me, his eyes wide with fear.

“Emery, what happens here will stay here,” I looked at him confused. He wrapped his arms around me as I put my arms around him. We held each other tightly not knowing it would be our last embrace… not knowing a lot of things.

 “I love you, Emery.”

 “I love you, Grayson.” He pushed open the gate, and we went inside. As soon as we stepped foot on the sparkling ground, everything withered and shriveled into an ugly, wretched shape. The birds that were peacefully sitting on tree tops, turned black, and dropped dead onto the scorched grass. The valleys filled up with dirt, the hills shrunk, and the mountains crumbled to the ground. Then we heard it, the booming footsteps of an evil being making its way toward intruders. With each thump the earth shook, the trees fell, and Grayson and I trembled in fear. Then standing in front of us six hundred and sixty-six feet tall, the beast glowed dark red and exhaled a pungent smoke. It had gashes along its chest, back, arms and legs, and piercing yellow eyes in which its’ pupils were lost. A gravelly voice similar to that of an old man contrasted his appearance, as he slowly shrunk down to our size.

 “You’re alive?” He looked back and forth at Grayson and me, sticking out his long, saurian-like tongue towards us in what seemed to be a tasting manner,”Mmm, your souls are so pure. Did my diamonds that fell from the sky not interest you at all?”

 “Why would they? Black diamonds are worthless…just like you.” An angry hiss followed Grayson’s valiant outburst, which made him cower slightly.

 “You should watch what you say, shouldn’t you?” The yellow eyes followed a trail over to me. “And who are you?”

“Emery…”

“Why are you here?”

“I want the world back to how it used to be.”

“And how is that, my dear?” One of Grayson’s hands clenched into a fist and the other held my hand tighter.

“When the hills were tall and the mountains were taller, the seasons changed, and didn’t have a weather forecast of fire and brimstone; when I could see children laughing and older couples holding hands…when the greed that you placed in peoples’ hearts didn’t have control.” The monster cackled, and then it escalated into a sinister laugh.

“Oh heavens, my love, I did not place any greed in their hearts. I just awoke what was already there.” His smile soon turned into a snarl. “What do you want?”.

 Grayson interjected. “To save everyone…How can we do it?”

 “To save everyone who is almost dead, you must do something you will very much dread. To give up something you care about most, and to leave it behind so you cannot boast. Your heart will feel sick, and that’s how you’ll be. I need at least one miserable person on Earth, so I can live happily. After you give up your very own heart, the souls will be returned and everyone else will get a new start.” After his riddle was finished he looked at both of us, his sly grin slowly getting bigger exhibiting pointy teeth putrefied with unidentifiable grime. Grayson walked up close to him, and leaned up to his long wretched ear. He whispered something that made even the beast’s tiny pupils dilate. The creature snorted, and shook his head as Grayson looked back at me with his piercing blue eyes cutting through every inch of me that he knew. Before another word was spoken, a long whip materialized from the beast’s hand, and just as quickly as it appeared it was swung back snapping Grayson in half. In horror, I watched the love of my life disintegrate right in front of me. Revulsion convulsed through my body, and tears filled my eyes as his body that was once strong and beautiful, shriveled and decayed. His chest caved in, his skin became gray and pale, his blue eyes sunk into the back of his head, and then he was reduced to dust…what he had been made out of from the beginning. As he perished though, the grass became greener, the birds rose from the dead, valleys blew the dirt from their bellies, mountains were rebuilt, hills rose from the ground, but the most breath-taking thing was the black diamonds crumbled releasing eight billion souls back into the world. The earth returned to its original state. In anguish, I sat on my knees in front of a pile a dust. Helplessly crying, I hoped my tears would bring back the only thing in the world I wanted, the only thing in the world I needed, the only thing I loved. Nothing happened for what seemed an eternity. As the wind blew, pieces of Grayson were scattered all over the world. God knew there needed to be a part of him everywhere, because he was the one who sacrificed himself for everyone else embracing his fate.

Persuasive Essay 2010 – Euthanasia

Should euthanasia be legalized? Many people are skeptical about how euthanizing our senior citizens could lead to an easy way out. However, it seems that isn’t the only thing people are concerned about. There are two reasons as to why euthanasia should not be legalized.

The first reason is that though we may want euthanasia legalized for the final stages of terminal cancer, you can’t help but think what will follow after that; as in when senior citizens are sick, their children may just want to stop dealing with them. In support of this, it’s possible that the legalization of euthanasia, could actually lead to murders. Of equal importance, when most of the older generation is dying we lose our grandmothers and grandfathers and the history they have been through. Further more, if euthanasia was legalized, it would probably leave some children a little too happy about their parent’s deaths.

The second reason is though some may beg for death; you can’t help but think of those who do not. Euthanasia could easily lead to the deaths of elderly citizens who do not even want to die. In support of this, many people are doubtful about legalizing euthanasia because of the excuses that could be made in order to “euthanize” their “problem”. Consequently, the big idea comes together with people using euthanasia other than the purpose it was made for. Also, it leaves us imagining what could slowly the corroboration of euthanasia can lead too.

In conclusion, we have a lot of history in our elderly people, and they are all dying. So if things are sped up with the deaths of them, a whole generation is quickly wiped out. Try to picture a world, where everyone old or suffering is silently killed. Take another step of thinking about life without grandparents to show their grandchildren what they have been through, and what their generation contributed to the world. So, should euthanasia be legalized? Euthanasia should not be legalized, because with it, we lose everything.

 

The Maple Tree – Short Story 2010

    Open…Close… Open… Close… What my eyes are doing at the moment no one can fathom, or even care for that matter. Open… I’m in a field surrounded by tall brown grass. Close… It’s raining, and we are running to the car, slipping and laughing as we go. Open… The clouds have switched places again, and the wind is blowing harder. Close… We are sitting together by a fire, sharing a large wool blanket. It was late October, I remember. Open… I’m in the same place as before, it’s just as dully beautiful as I remembered. Close… You touch my face, and tell me that you love me. I try and hold onto the smile imbedded on your lips. It’s been two years already. Open. I lost it, again; funny how things can change at the blink of an eye. It’s time I go anyways.

    I pondered staying in the grass a little longer, but I knew it was useless. I had spent most of the day daydreaming anyways. It was time to head back to the apartment and figure out what to do with myself. Picking up my small backpack, I started to walk back to my old model Volvo. I looked up at the clouds to see if the shapes were how they were five minutes ago. They weren’t, nothing ever stays the same. I was approaching my car, when my cell phone started singing to me. Digging through all of the pens, pencils, gum wrappers, and assignments that I had yet to look at, I finally found it.

    “Dahlia Mae!? Where on earth have you been? I’ve been trying to call you for hours!” It was my best friend and roommate Shea, she didn’t like being left alone on weekends; but I liked being alone.

    “Sorry, I just lost track of time…I guess.” I trailed off, knowing that I wasn’t being completely honest.

    “You are at the field again aren’t you?”

    “No.”

    “Don’t lie.”                 

    “I’m sorry…”

     “Dahlie, you really don’t need to go down there. I know you have one more month until he comes home, but you just get so…I don’t know, upset when you come back. You think too much down there.” I could hear the sincerity in her voice, and I felt bad. We had talked about this, and I had deliberately driven my car forty-five minutes out of the way just to lie in grass.

     “I know, but I like thinking. Especially when a grade isn’t required, I mean, all we ever do now is school work. We don’t even party like normal college students.” By the time the last word came out of my mouth, I was already starting to laugh, and then I heard laughter on the other side of the phone.

     “You’re right, but I love rooming with you. Be home soon?”

     “I’m on my way now. I’ll see you in an hour.” I hung up the phone, and the smile on my face drooped down again. One more month of being alone it echoed in my head, bouncing back and forth on the walls of my brain.

     “One more month.” I said aloud, then I got into my car and started to drive.

                                                ***

     I walked into my bed room after getting home. It was cluttered, it has always been cluttered. I’ve never had the ability to organize, and it seemed college had made it ten times worse. My room looked like a war zone. Shea, don’t come in the room, I said to myself. I just knew she was going to, I then heard the perspicuous knock at the door.

            “Come in.”

     “Dahlia, are you alright?” She looked around my room and grimaced, I followed her eyes, and they scanned the wall looking at all of the hand written letters he had sent me.

     “Yes, I’m fine.”

     “You’re lying, why do you lie? I’ve known you since you were two, I can tell when you are lying to me.” She stared at me hard.

     “I know I am lying, I don’t want to talk about it.” I started picking up the clothes strewn across my floor anxiously.

      “You miss him?” she watched me intently; I could tell by her voice that the corners of her mouth were making a small frown, sympathetic and longing; longing to help a friend. I didn’t answer; I just stared at the floor holding a pile of clothes. She looked me up and down, and then walked out the door. I felt bad for not answering her, but she understood. I know she did.

            I dropped the clothes back into a pile on the floor, jumped into my bed, and covered myself with my sheets. Reality can’t get you if you are hidden, neither can truth beat you senseless if it can’t find you. I’m hidden. He’s here with me. I’m hiding. He’s here. I pulled the covers off of my head, and looked at the wall covered in paper with ink scribbled words on them. It was a beautiful work of art, but it was the first thing I saw in the morning; and it was the first thing that reminded me that he wasn’t here. He has a name; it is Oakley, Oakley Hayden. He has one brother and one sister. He graduated from White County High, and was valedictorian of his class. He is 19, 20 in three weeks. He’ll be home in sixteen days fourteen hours and forty-five seconds. He’s my best friend, and he is at the navy base, somewhere off the coast of Charleston, South Carolina. He’s somewhere, somewhere, somewhere, somewhere.

            I wandered into the kitchen the next morning, and I realized then how the Israelites felt when they were in the desert for forty years. I found Shea drinking coffee and reading her favourite book again. She watched me closely as I poured coffee, and then came to sit by her.

            “You have anything planned for today?” I watched as she closed her book, and slid it next to her large mug of coffee.

            “No why? Did you want to do something?” her face softened with her answer.

            “Not really, but it would be a good idea for us to get out.” I smiled and took a sip of my coffee. Hot and black, just how I liked it. Hot and black.

             “Want to —“the phone rang, and Shea got up from the table to answer it. I listened to the one sided conversation.

            “Dahlia? Yeah she’s here. You want to talk to her?” she looked over at me smirking. “I don’t know dude, you may have to pay me something…” I jumped up and grabbed the phone.

            “Hello?”

            “Hey beautiful, how long has it been since you’ve heard my voice?” I smiled the biggest smile I had in me.

            “At least three months.” I bit my lip, three months and two days.

            “I’m sorry baby, I don’t get the best reception on the ocean” I heard his chuckle, the one he does when he makes a semi-funny joke.

            “When are you coming home Oakley?” I was looking at my feet, and Shea was standing close to me, watching my body language carefully.

            “Hmmm, I don’t know. But could you do me a favour?” my heart dropped at the simple phrase of ‘I don’t know’.

            “Yes, of course. What do you need?”

            “You know where we had our first kiss?”

            “Yes, in the back yard, underneath the maple tree.”

            “Can you hang up the phone and walk out there please?”

            “Why would I hang up? We haven’t talked in months…”

            “Baby, just do it okay? You can call me back if you need to.” I looked over at Shea, she was confused. I was way beyond that, ‘Oh, and I love you.” I smiled wide.

            “I love you too. I’ll call you back in a little bit if I have to.”

            “You do that.” I could tell he was smirking, I knew he was smirking.         

    I walked out the back door following the small stepping stones into the garden. Flowers were sprinkled everywhere and hanging from every place imaginable. I hadn’t been out here in a while, I had forgotten about how beautiful it was. Walking along, I could see the tree ahead of me. I don’t really know what I am looking for, or why I am even out here in the first place.

      I get to the overgrown grass at the back of the yard, where a large maple tree stands. This was the tree where we had our first kiss, because there was ‘You + Me’ with a heart around it carved into the trunk. I looked around, hoping to find something meaningful, something that made sense, but nothing did.

   But then in the grass I saw a little white note, strange I thought to myself as I picked it up, opened it, and began to read the poem written inside.

‘I fight by day when you are having your night.

The stars, I know, aren’t nearly as pretty of a sight.

But your voice is carried from over the seas,

And I can’t tell you how much I miss you singing to me.

I hope to God I’ll come home to you,

With your bright smile that helps pull me through.

 

“- And I swore to God that when I’d fall in love, it would be with someone who could love. Not just me, but everyone else. This is what I wrote the day I fell.….”

   He jumped down from the tree, and stood in front of me as he said the last two words slowly “For you.”

            Standing in amazement of what I was seeing my mouth was wide open.

            “Don’t you have anything to say to me?” Oakley smiled that warm smile I hadn’t seen in two long years. Silence on my behalf, complete and utter silence. “Wow, nothing at all? Maybe I should just go back.” My arms found their way around his waist.

            “That’s a funny joke, Oakley.” He kissed the top of my head, and I dug it deep into his chest as his arms held me tight. I was being held by a soldier, but not just any soldier, my soldier. I heard him cough and clear his voice.

            “Are you crying?” I took my head out of his chest and took a step back, examining his face. He was biting his lip. “I promised not to cry.” I smiled wide.

            “I can tell…” He took my hand and stared at the ground, but only for a second before he looked back up at me. “I love you Dahlia Mae. I always have.”

***

    My grandmother closed the book slowly, but I noticed clearly the word ‘Diary’ printed on the front.

            “Gima, is this about you and Papa?” I looked at the old tattered book she held in her unsteady hands.

            “Where would you get an idea like that, Elara?”

            “It said ‘diary’ on the front, I just thought…maybe—“

            “Elara! Let’s go sweetheart, we are going to be late to your soccer game.” My mother stood in the doorway waiting for me to get up and get a move on.

            “Did you tell Gima ‘thank you’ for watching you today?”

            “Thank you.” I ran over to her and gave her as big as a hug I could. She smiled wide and hugged me back tightly.

            “We will finish the story the next time you are over dear. I promise. I love you Elara Mae.”

“I love you to Gima.” I smiled at her then ran to my mom, and we walked out to the car.

    As mom drove me away I looked out the window, seeing my grandmother standing next to an old maple tree in the back yard. Running her hand against what seemed to be something engraved into the bark. The look on her face was kind and longing. That’s when it all made sense.

The Pequot Massacre – Cause and Effect Essay

          The frightful pre-summer dawn of May 26, 1637 is a dawn; some people say changed America. Though most people haven’t even heard of what happened on this morning, it is shocking to those who have. And for those who hear it for the first time, it is somewhat hard to comprehend. What is difficult to comprehend is the massacre of over 500 Pequot Indians. May 26. 1637, was the day of the Pequot Massacre.

          The causes of this were somewhat childish. Leading up to the “Pequot Massacre” was in fact the “Pequot War”, which was fought from 1634-1638. This is where all of the problems began. The colonists were getting unsteady with their Indian allies, though they traded frequently. As they spread out farther into Pequot territory, they came into more and more conflict concerning land and other disputable matters. By spring, there had been colonists killed by the Pequots because they had been moving farther into Pequot territory; subsequently, this led to the souring of any remaining friendliness between the Indians and the Colonists

            After battling over conflict of land, trade, and how people were acting for 3 years; the Puritans decided to take action. This horrible action was what led to the almost complete destruction of a respected Indian tribe. Leading up to that unpleasant day, the Puritans trekked around Connecticut contacting their other Indian cronies, whose relationship with the Pequot tribe was much less than friendly. In normal terms, they were enemies; consequently, this made it easier for the colonists to recruit them.

            That night the colonists went to the Pequot living quarters, and opened fire on all of them. Trying to shoot everyone wasn’t very effective, so they decided to burn the remaining people in the compound alive. Those who escaped were found, and shipped off to the Caribbean as slaves. Despite all of this, the colonists felt good, they thought they had gotten everyone.  But they never expected one day what would become of those who escaped this atrocity.

            The effect of this was the almost extinction of an American Indian tribe, though the colonists were sure of themselves, some Pequots were able to hide out long enough to repopulate. It took many years, and up until recently the Pequots were still thought to be extinct. Instead they had been working on becoming successful in today’s world, and they achieved at that.

            The Pequot’s now own the world’s largest casino and resort, which has a steady income and has done well economically. With the money from the casino they have been able to make a better life for themselves, and they have also shown the world that it is possible to come back from the “dead”.  That it is possible to start from nothing and to succeed.

            To conclude, the massacre of over 500 people is a terrible thing; but you can’t help to think what they would’ve become if the massacre hadn’t occurred. Would they still own the world’s largest casino and resort? Or would they be stuck on a reservation (in worse conditions), watching the wind blow? The Pequot Nation is a strong one, and I have respect for them. Any person, tribe, or thing that can basically come back from the dead is inspirational; especially, when they can make a name for themselves through hard work.