Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Upload your Stories Here
We all have a story and we all want to keep these stories alive. This is where the untold stories of English 12 (4) (5) and English 11 (5) (6) will be released. Stories that both you and I did not have enough time in class to discover. Even if it is one line or 14,000 please leave a story for all of us to read and enjoy.
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Mr. Surrette, I told you I'd write on here, not just for extra grades either. This is Brad from English incase you haven't yet figured that out. I write lots of interesting little things, here's some stuff and I will post more as they are written.
ReplyDeleteWriting, writing. Why am I always writing about this? about you, about us. It's over. Just let it. Let's go out and show up, together and seperate. I'll see you later, after school. We'll hit the road and tell our friends the good news. Where is this going? I shouldn't worry so much. I'll be fine, let's do this. I trust you.
Bring it on, I can take it. Let's go another round. I'll show you how tough I am; or how tough I can be, on the exterior. On the contrary, you're the tough one. More than tough. More than mean. What did I do to deserve this? not enough. Wasn't I good? Too good you say? But that's what she said, and her too. Why is that always the answer? Because I'm not an asshole I'm not worth it? Oh.
One last paragraph, I won't let it be about a girl. What about me? School? I despise the system. I realize though that being high and music won't save me, I would just end up being an old hippie bum born one generation too late. Why didn't anyone else figure that out? I'll follow your system America, I have no choice. I'll beat it, by joining it. I'll take advantage of it. Maybe I'll become a politician, and change the world. I could do it, but is it worth the effort? I only have another 60 years if I am lucky. Or am I unlucky?
-Mr Surrette, there is a lot about me nobody knows. I may express in my writings dark ideas, and maybe a lot of it is from where I have been and who I was, but today I am a responsible student dedicated to success in my lifetime. I will write more, and it will be about my stories, you may get to know me as a person, as history, as future. Maybe you won't take it to that extent, but I've seen and done things, and my words have more meaning than many may realize. I'm glad you made this site, I never expressed myself before in these subtle messages, I enjoy it. Take care was great having you as a teacher.
Once upon a time, there was a cellist with a magical cello. Each song has a story and each story, a song. The stories unroll when the cellist plays. He chooses a piece of music and puts it on the stand. The cellist lifts his bow and starts to play.
ReplyDeleteRebekha shifts in her saddle. After several hours on her horse Henry, her backside hurts. Turning she sees Will and Nate, the twins, riding side by side, as usual, heads together deep in conversation. Looking around her she sees the ten other men of her father’s guard. They were to escort her through the Dark Forest, to her new life. Looking ahead, she saw that they were about to enter the Dark Forest. A sense of foreboding passes over her and she shudders. Almost immediately, Will and Nate were at her side.
“What is it, milady?” Will asks.
“I’ve never liked the forest.” Rebekha replies. “It’s too dark, too mysterious.”
“It isn’t really that bad, milady.” Nate says. “Once you know that in the forest you are not the boss, even insignificant and that you are basically invisible, the fear of it leaves you. The creatures of the forest care not for us. They will let us be, if we will let them be.”
“The darkness can be very comforting.” Will adds.
“Thank you, Will and Nate. I’m so very comforted.” Rebekha says with slight sarcasm.
“We will stay with you from now on, milady.” Nate says.
“Thank you,” murmurs Rebekha.
The party moves quickly along the path. When they entered the forest, many of the men urged their horses faster, wanting to be out of the forest as fast as possible.
The cellist’s fingers stumble. Quickly, he regains the melody. Unfortunately, he wasn’t fast enough.
A loud snarl comes from the woods. The party’s horses spook. Even Henry, the most steadfast of the horses, is unsettled.
The cellist’s bow skips, creating harsh dissonances.
There are more snarls from the woods. The men tighten their circle around Rebekha, but it does no good. The beasts from the woods are closing in, men are falling. Rebekha screams……
The cellist lets his bow drop, without finishing the piece. Knowing he has completely ruined the piece, the cellist almost puts his cello down. Then, he picks the cello up again, and rights the piece of music. Putting his bow to the string, he starts again.
Rebekha shifts in her saddle. After several hours on her horse Henry, her backside hurts. Turning she sees Will and Nate, the twins, riding side by side, as usual, heads together deep in conversation. Looking around her she sees the ten other men of her father’s guard. They were to escort her through the Dark Forest, to her new life. Looking ahead, she saw that they were about to enter the Dark Forest. A sense of foreboding passes over her and she shudders……
The cellist plays through the piece, making no mistakes. Sighing contentedly, he puts the cello down, takes the piece off the stand and places his bow on the cello. The cellist stands and leaves the room, knowing that all is right and soon he will return to play again. He turns off the light. The cello seems to glow in the dim room.
Rebekha sighs with relief. They had gotten through the Dark Forest without incident. Glancing at Will and Nate, she sees them relax and look back at the forest. Looking back, Rebekha sees a cello leaning against a tree. Unknowingly Rebekha smiles and looks toward the horizon, toward her new life, with Will and Nate by her side.
By Brianna Coombs
When I looked in the cot and saw you both snuggled up together in a perfect cuddle, I realized that the bloody cat had been tolerating me until you were born. I don’t begrudge him that, as we certainly hadn’t met on the best of terms.
ReplyDeleteIt had been raining for what seemed a fortnight, and on this particular night it was soaking out. I was five months pregnant at the time and quite lonely. Still, I hadn’t exactly welcomed a gigantic wet tabby to come ripping out of the storm and into my private flat. The fact that a cat had come into my house startled me so much that I stood in the rain for a moment before tearing into the flat myself. I stormed through the house looking for the large tabby. Yet, I could find him nowhere. Finally, bemused, I took off my “mac” and went to sit by the fire that my housekeeper, Annette, had prepared.
As I sat down in my favorite chair, I noticed a patch of carpet that hadn’t been there before. The tabby! I shot out of my chair and grabbed him up. “Ha ha,” I said. “Now I’ve got you, you wee little bugger.” But then I looked at him and my heart melted. He was so skinny and wet, and it was raining out. I decided that I would feed him a little something, let him dry out and put him outside in the morning. With that thought in mind, I fed him and went to bed.
The next morning when I woke up, the tabby was asleep on my chest. In that moment, I fell in love. I knew, without a doubt, that I could never put him out and on his own again. Therefore, I fed him, washed him and kept him.
The cat approves of me, now that I’ve given him you.
By Brianna Coombs
P.S. Thank you, Mr Surette, for having this site. It gives me a place to put my many many stories. I won't put all of them though, don't worry. Just a few. Thanks again.
A new day, a new mind. For some anyways; the special. Forget the past. I don't blame you for not understanding, I also used to be thick headed. I learned my lesson. As hard as it is to believe, you can't change the past. So, take what you have, move forward. Be proud of what you earn, and do it. Don't just sit, waiting, feinding donations. Take what is rightfully yours, it's easier than it seems. I did it, surprise! who knew? Not I. It feels great making my own future; when things go wrong just remember that everybody has hard times. And it's not how sad your story is, but how impressive you are as an individual. These words will mean nothing today, you will learn for yourself.
ReplyDeleteI just want to thank you all. Why? That's exactly my point. You didn't help me. I didn't help you either. We are nothing but difference. How can we conquer the world and envious lifestyle when we never cross paths? Mom, dad, I have a confession. You know how each generation is expected to be better than the last? Well, I'm not better. I'm just different. I have different beliefs, different values, a whole different attitude. Don't be sad, you did your best. Did I fail you? or did you fail me? Don't worry, I'll take the blame. I might as well, I always did. I'm used to the idea, I don't care. It's my fault; but it's okay. I don't want what you have. I breathe different air, drink different water, inhale different smoke; exhale. Maybe I'm just a genius, or maybe I have it all wrong. So much to decide. Can I have what I want? Do I have the wrong idea?
ReplyDeletelast one for a long time- promise haha.
ReplyDeleteHas this become a daily exercise? Spare time is nothing but releasing thoughts. Walk the halls, not quite alone, not quite friendly. My shyness overcomes me. I think I am noticed, I am noticed. Why must I initiate? Why must I be the one to engage? This frightens me. Must I truly take my every moment into my own hands? But I am only learning. I can't do this without exercise. If that's the case, what should I think of you? or your best friend, husband, father, are you all weak? Or, are you all me? That can't be. I will take charge, I must. I must seperate myself from this look and act-alike contest. Shall I do better? or worse? what's better anyways? I used to think without conformation there was nothing, but what if I stand out? What if I shine? What if instead of giving up, I take this mold and shape it. This isn't a part of my "real-life" anyways. Maybe I'll just take it, to see what happens. I met a good one. The effort was fifty-fifty. I like that. She's smart. Maybe it's worth my spare time, maybe conversation.