A Story Of My Writing

     From a very young age, writing has been a passion of mine. Through writing I have developed an

As if he read my mind he grabbed my hand. I looked up at him surprised.

Writing has always been something I dread. It’s weird because I love talking and telling stories, but the moment I have to write it all down on paper, I become frantic. It’s almost as if a horse race just begun in my mind, with hundreds of horses, or words, running through my mind, unable to place them in chronological order. Because I struggle to form satisfying sentence structure, it takes me hours, sometimes even days, to write one paper. It’s not that I think I’m a “bad writer,” I just get discouraged easily. Needless to say, I don’t think highly of my writing skills. When I was little I loved to both read and write. I read just about any book I could get my hands on, and my journal was my go to for my daily adventures. Although it’s

Everywhere we went my mom would say hello to somebody she knew. My sister and I would hide behind my mom, grabbing her by her jeans or each other in nervousness and we did not want my mom’s friend to see us. We would only come out when my mom would tell us to come forward and greet. My sister and I would look at each other before we said hi. The only times when we weren’t shy were when we would see our cousins. We would run up to them and try to play. My two or three year old body would try hard to keep its balance as I ran through the tan, dark, colored dirt road. I would often trip then fall on my face and cry. My mom would always scream at us” Que les dije woe no corran!”, “Didn’t I tell you not to run?” but we never listened. We were happy to run free getting our shoes dirty in the process and it gave me much joy to see people we knew everyday. Aunts and uncles would come over to our house and the smells of the frijoles, rice, nopales and sometimes meat cooking on the stove would fill the house. Lunch and Dinner were both eaten as a family, and tortillas were something you could not live without. With all the people and kids in the house you could see the dark muddy footprints all over the white tiles of the living room, and you could follow the footsteps into the kitchen.

I always knew that one day, my worst fear would be realized....yet when it did come, I was no where near ready to accept it.

In a long story short, I originally lived in Gypsum Colorado but moved away because my parents thought that we should be more helpful here instead of there, also wanted us to spend more time with our family relatives. We've started packing up on my year of middle school, then it was decided that we would move until I have graduated, though during our clean up I was confused of what to do with my life and even more so by thinking of how my future is going to be like. If we look at it from a kid’s point of view, life is great because everything is already planned out for them. But, in due time we all grow up and find out what skills we all possess, in which depends on our life experience.

Born in the cold winter night of December was a little daddy’s princess, Sarika. Yes, it’s me. I am Sarika. That’s the name I was given by my father. The meaning of name Sarika is a bird, a beautiful thing or a princess. Like every father, he chose this name for me because he already knew someday I’ll become independent and soar higher like a bird. From the moment he first held me in his arms and stared into my eyes, he knew that I was very special and had lots of hopes and dreams for the future. On the other hand, my mom was very disappointed that she gave birth to a girl again. She wanted a boy. She had already given birth to four girls. She hoped that fifth one would be a boy. But unfortunately, it was a girl again. In dismay, she even forgot to breastfed me. She wanted to adopt a boy but my father did not agree. My father explained to her that I was the gift of the God and no matter what gender I was, I am his child.

It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, I could hear the sounds of birds chirping and I still just sat there on my bed sobbing and wondering what I would do with someone I barely know. I was pouting trying to figure out what to do. Suddenly, I heard a phone ring and it was my mom's phone and I tried to listen in on her conversation from my room but it was too hard. After she got off the phone, she came running upstairs and knocked on my door “Izzy are you up I have good news” I pretended I was asleep and didn't answer her, eventually she went back downstairs. I was so upset that I had to take a nap, so I did. About 45 minutes later I woke up and went downstairs, Mom said that she had wonderful news. “Izzy I got a phone call and I am able to bring one guest with me that can stay in the house and see me when I get back every day” I jumped with joy! “Izzy I know you want to come with me, but if you want, you can still see grandma if you want to”. As soon as mom said that, suddenly I realized that I haven't seen my grandmas in years and she knows i'm coming and she is probably super excited excited to see me. Also I want to be able to see mom, so I went back to my room to think things over. I listed the good things about going to grandmas. She probably is super excited to see me after all of these years and I do want to see her and also it would be cool to see her for 2 months because after the 2 months I may not see her fore many more years. I went downstairs and started

Have you ever found something strange while you were looking for something or cleaning? Well, that happened to me, Cara. I was cleaning my old and dusty basement, when I found something that was unknown to me. It was a picture of me and this girl, who looked the same as me. I was confused and shocked at how much this girl looked liked me. Was she a sibling, a long lost family member, or maybe even a twin?

I sat in front of my bright, intense computer screen, desperately trying to finish my math homework. I was failing this class, as well as every other class, but I was far behind my peers in math. I was wishing I could have some alien genius tutor me.

I remember when I was a little girl around four I woke up in my room to the sun. It was spring time on a Saturday and it was just me and my mom at home. When I woke up I immediately went looking for my mom knowing she was around somewhere. I checked in the kitchen and living room but it was empty and quiet. After doing that I decided to check the basement, which as a kid is the worst place to be all alone, however for some reason I felt like she was down there washing clothes because where else could she have gone. I traveled down the stairs slowly and scaredly. As I was walking down the basement stairs I passed the sunny door leading to the backyard and all of the sunlight that came from the door was lighting up the basement making it look welcoming and not so cold and dark. I then heard the washing machine turn on and that's when I knew she was there and decided to pass through the dimly lit basement to the laundry room where she was. When I approached her she turned around and seen that I was up and said “Good morning I washed Mrs. Bear ”. Mrs. Bear was a white bear with a brown threaded nose and two black eyes that I had been given by my mother. Mrs. Bear would always get dirty fast and as a little kid I cared about her alot so when I heard my mom saying she washed her I was ecstatic. I looked up to see Mrs. Bear sitting on the ledge of the small basement window, her white fur glowing from the sun, looking almost brand new. My mom brought her down for me and immediately

“Piss it out like a fire rocket!” She screamed, while repeatedly slamming the bathroom door open and closed. I was 16 years old when I sat on that toilet. Eyes wide, full of bright ideas; like the one that led me to try out Marine Corps boot camp. The drill instructor in front of me showed no mercy, standing tall and proud, Sergeant Gidean had Marine Corps in her blood. As I sat there, pants around my knees, I thought I would never pee again. How could I ever amount to a person with such courage and tenacity? Often joking with myself that I had developed Stockholm Syndrome, I yearned to be like the woman who was screaming at me, and gain her approval in every way. For two weeks we lived in the same bug filled barracks together, marching side by side, pursuing some form of self-improvement. Okay, maybe that last part was just me. But we were both so different from one another, and yet I found resemblance between us. A resemblance that kept me calm, that said “she’s human too.” But the difference that kept me motivated to change and be a better person.

Hi...it’s me, Kael Kael Eatman. I'm about to tell you the story of my life. More specifically, why my life ended. The tale of events that lead my whole city to get infected with this… I don’t even know what you would call this. A disease possibly. It was horrible, let’s start with the first encounter.

As I jumped out the car all I could think of about that wretched person who I called mother. As I got up I felt a dreadful piercing around my left ankle but the pain was better than hearing how good of an angel his mama was. I sat back down and massaged my left ankle, it didn't really help but it felt a little better than before. I started walking again, nevertheless the heat from the scorching sun made me feel hazy. It reminded me of when my pops used to take me out to a ball game. He told me one day I was going to play in the big league and he was going to guide me every step of the way. Well he can't do that now can he?

My Story….. When I was about the age of 6 years old maybe seven. I was sexually assaulted. I was at an elementary school which I will call Tree School for right now. So I had a family friend who I will call “James”. James and I were okay friends I guess. I was kind of a tomboy so I loved boxing and wrestling with boys. One day when I went to James house. We were wrestling and we decided to go upstairs because James had gotten a train for his birthday. So I went upstairs with him and asked to play with the train. At that time I didn’t really like barbies and stuff and this train was known as more of a boys kind of train but that’s not the point. Anyways so when I asked to play with the train he replied no. Of course being a stubborn