Monday, January 23, 2012

Creative Piece

AUTHORS NOTE: using a defense mechanism, (Being far from a personal expeerience) the short story is about a girl who doesnt realize that her life is crumbling before her and refuses to do anything to get out of the mess. It only pushes her so far to the point where she attends her own funeral.

Free
“It’s simple” they encouraged me. “Put your mouth against the tip and inhale as much as you can, hold it in for about 10 seconds then release.” I could feel the thick smoke fill my lungs as my brain started to feel uneasy. As soon as I released my breath the windows fogged, a nauseating aroma of skunk filled the sealed car. My nervousness soon started to fade away as my muscles relaxed and everything started to move in slow motion. My heart slowed down into a heavy slow thump that tingled throughout my body every time it beat.  The heavy bass of Kid CuDi rattled my brain, my whole body vibrated to the rhythm. My thought process, my reflexes, everything, started to fade right then and there.
            Ever since that night I knew I was corrupted. The lying, drinking, partying, it all began. I ran blindly, without intention, in fear such as I had never known in my life. I soon lost innocence of everything I’ve ever known. Grades were dropping, and the carelessness had been triggered. I needed motivation but I had absolutely nothing. Everything was dissolving at that point. I looked up to my parents, but that came to an end when my father went to prison when a party of the police came, very unexpectedly, into the house, and proceeded again to make rigorous investigation of the premises, which was quite lovely; and my mother was so mentally unstable she was not there for me anymore. I knew right from wrong, it was the fact that I didn’t really care; I started not to give a **** and stopped fearing the consequences. My life was unbelievably good. I had everything a teenage girl could want: my friends, and the night.
            “Where were you?” My mother said strictly as I entered the door. “Out.” I said as I walked straight into my room and closed the door behind me. We didn’t talk for the rest of the night. That night I also heard distant silent sobbing from upstairs. I knew my mother was crying. “It’s probably one of her mood swings” I convinced myself, she’ll be better in the morning. This daily routine of hanging out with my friends and participating in illegal activities, not doing homework and coming home at 10 PM continued for months. I found no problem with this what so ever. I could catch up with my homework later, and do my chores later. My mother was doing just fine and I was living the life to its full potential.
            It was a clear day, and yet there seemed an intangible pall over the face of things, a subtle gloom that made the day dark. The room was silent. Nothing but the faint sound of the heart beat monitor. I sprang up from my bed when I had a dream that I was falling off a bridge, about to hit the sharp rocks below that had death written all over them. As I awoken realized I was not home. As beads of sweat dripped down my forehead as I looked around. It was pitch black in the small quarters and my hazy vision couldn’t make out where I was. Feeling nauseous, dizzy, and baffled I tried to feel around for my phone, to get some recognition of the night time and date. Trying to get up to go to the bathroom, I was jolted back from a sharp yanking pain from my right hand. I started to panic when I realized that I was in a hospital gown as soon as my bare, weak feet had hit the chilly marble floors of the hospital. Where was I? What had happened to my friends? What did I do last night?
            “Was this overdose intended?” I was questioned, I felt confused, overwhelmed, distorted and sleep was the only thing on my mind. “No, it was an accident.” I convinced her. I wondered who would do this to me. Who would want me to overdose? Was this intentional? Who would try to hurt me like that? Millions of questions overflowed my brain all at once. “I must have underestimated my pill tolerance.” I told them. “Then what are these marks on your wrist?” I looked down to see deep cuts. Startled I told them “I have no clue” I stated with honesty. The woman looked at me with a deceiving glare as she marked me down for and accident and not a suicide attempt. Relieved, I got back in my mother’s car to have a completely silent ride home. I wondered what troubled her. She was scared, that’s all.
            Still confused on what had all happened. I pushed it to the back of my head. I was not going to let a little incident like this prevent me from living my life. Like I said, I had my friends, had the night, and I’d be alright. Because I had nothing worry about, everything was just fine.
            Sitting down at my therapy classes I did nothing but day dream and look at the clock. Every second seemed like an hour. Plus, I’ve heard this bull shit a million times “You need to open yourself up and share your feelings.” “Marijuana is a gateway drug.” Did they not think I knew that? What do people not get when I tell them that I know and I still don’t care. Saying that marijuana is a gateway drug is the same damn thing as saying “Learning how to walk means you’ll be running from the cops in no time.” I thought. They had no clue what they were talking about. I appreciate their help but I was sure, did not need it.
            It wasn’t until I was sitting at my own funeral when I realized I had gone too far. I’ve officially fucked up. Looking down at my mother sobbing and stuttering trying to give a speech, I’ve never felt such pain. I should have done something when I had the chance. I made her miserable and I knew she was throughout this whole process. My whole family and friends were there. I never actually realized how many people were there for me, and how many people loved me. How many people I could have gone too when I needed help.  But it was all too late now. Weakness filled me as I soon realized that now I could never get married, have kids, go to college, graduate. What have I done to myself and everyone that had loved me, what have I done.
                       

An Occurance at Owl Creek Bridge

An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge
            “On cloud eight” is a common used phrase to demonstrate that feeling of always being one step behind perfection and satisfaction “An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge,” written by Ambrose Bierce, demonstrates how a man can have all his valuables torn away from him even when he is so close to achieving that personal satisfaction and perfection. By having his beloved family at just at finger tip’s reach, his death is pure torture when revealed to him to what he can never have again.
            Sentenced to death, the main character Peyton Farquhar relives all of his happiest moments in his head with his family, trying to make the crucial punishment not so brutal. After succeeding his nearly impossible escape he finds himself back into the arms of his beloved family once again. He had finally reached that cloud nine. Shouting with relief Peyton “Ah, how beautiful she is! He springs forward with extended arms. As he is about to clasp her, he feels a stunning blow upon the shock of a cannon – then all is darkness and silence!” (198).
To be that close to the one thing you love, then getting shot down right after must be agonizing. To be one inch away from that cloud nine. Luckily, Peyton did not have to go through the pain of the downfall due to such a quick death. Hopefully he will die with the memories of his last sight being his wife.

Black Cat


Black Cat

. The man in the short story “Black Cat”  by Edgar Allan Poe showed that the abuse of alcohol can change oneself; from a once was warm hearted person to nothing better than soulless man. Throughout the story, it portrayed how he finally unleashed his inner beast and did not look at the outcomes till he had gone too far.
Denial was mans fatal flaw throughout the story. To escape reality he used alcohol for a better vision for life. Although sugar coding his life with alcohol seemed to be helping, he did not realize the troubles of his life and the utter hell he was going through. It takes him a couple of days after to realize some of the trauma that he’s actually caused. Being in denial can be a huge problem till it gets pushed over the edge. When you end up murdering your wife you know you have pushed your limit. That is when you know you have lost control of your true persona. Unfortunately people often do not know their limits, they get too caught up in what they think is their twisted, version of reality.
Although man had transformed into inhuman murdering beast, he still had that soft inner core. The core that cared, loved and treasured others. As the story begins the man states “In their consequences, these events have terrified- have tortured- have destroyed me.” It was unfortunate when the man had not realized what he had done, until the end when he looked back on everything.
Although you can get caught up in a moment, everyone knows deep down who they really are and what their morals are, no matter how much you try to deny yourself. Knowing the pure truth is always beneficial.

To Build a Fire

To Build a Fire

            Despite how intellectual the human brain is, maybe no amount of book smarts will ever be able to outwit instinct. Author Jack London suggests this is mans fatal flaw. In the short story, “To Build a Fire” by Jack London this fatal flaw evolves into a larger issue(6) for the main character, struggling to survive in the harsh, bitter(11) winter. His mind, which is protecting him from the brutal reality of death, tricks him otherwise. The story shows(10) a constant battle of Man vs. Nature, and the strengths of man’s instinct to compete for survival against the cold.(6)
            Mind over matter is a bold aspect(11) for every human being.  Ones mind(10) can be restricted(11) to a certain degree in which in some cases, you’ve lost all control.. In times of the worst, this is when your mind functions best. The character in the book, being a male, has the basic mindset of survival. Creating sufficient tools or creations that will help him in the long run, will distract his mind for only a minimal amount of time. What (11) the character is ignorant of is that there might not be a long run, he cannot just only center his mind on ways to stay warm or ways to eat, but ways to survive overall (5), ways to live and to proceed with his life.
 Going into denial can be one of the worst things a humans mind can do. It is hard for people to focus on what the reality of a situation is, and move forward to help the situation by thinking in a clear manner. Although it is hard to think clearly when your body is failing, it is the key to survival. This is why the flaw of instinct of mankind, can be so fatal.