BHS- Where you want to go, if you love to write!
They believed she was someone who was happy,
who was not bothered; they’re wrong.
She tries to be strong but she can’t.
She’s tired of being strong all the time.
She’s tired of wearing a mask,
She’s tired of hiding who she really is, broken.
She hurts everyone she loves and she doesn’t mean to.
They act like it’s all her fault but it isn’t.
She can’t help that she’s broken like a glass that was shattered on the floor and can’t be
put back together.
Why can’t she be put back together?
And why isn’t anyone helping her?
Cause she’s not trying. Cause she’s scared that’s all they are going to see,
But she’s not.
She loves music,
she loves writing,
she loves her family.
Those are the things puttingt her back together and without those, she’s broken again.
By Chadé Green-Rose
I woke up before the birds
Before the thawing of the night
Before the people walk out in herds
I don’t bother changing my clothes
Or even put on shoes
I walk down to the water, the morning frost nipping at my nose
I sit at the water’s edge
Watch the moon take it’s rest
And then I see something appear, peeking just above the ledge
It starts off with a sliver of gold among the sea of blue
Then an explosion of orange takes over half the sky
The sun is now visible too
All these colours are screaming
And yet it is complete and utter silence
It feels as if I’m still in bed dreaming
It was the size of a finger and not all that pretty
This caterpillar, it did not live in the city
Instead, it lived in a snug town, and it liked it that way
It was satisfied with its life, it was never in dismay
It had friends, it had love, this caterpillar was never alone
It had so little, yet was so grateful
It felt safe there, at home.
It sometimes felt hateful,
But little did it know, that was not the way to go
It soon found itself,
In what seemed like a shell
A cocoon, which was a tight fit,
It could barely even see through it
It told itself it wasn’t so bad,
It was going to get out soon,
No use in being sad.
Sooner or later it hatched, this cocoon
Alas, the caterpillar was set free
But what it found as it slipped out, did not bring it glee
Out spread some elegant wings,
Some colours, some patterns, all sorts of things
This caterpillar’s friends had been jumping with joy
They thought their new wings was a sight to enjoy
But the caterpillar disagreed,
“I want my old self back!” he would plead
Its loved ones had left it unintentionally
They flapped their wings and soared freely
But the caterpillar stayed there, as a new found butterfly
It did not wish to leave, it did not wish to fly
It cried and it wept all day,
It was no longer at home, the wind swept it away
It found itself lonely, no one nearby
To reassure it instead of wanting to die.
It did not like this change, did not like this life
Inside it was always a caterpillar, not a stunning butterfly
At night, it thought about everything it left behind, lay there awake
But there are some decisions that are just not yours to make.
In my forest I sit and wait
I wait for someone to come help me escape
But no one ever stays
Well that's just great
I don’t know how I got here
I don’t know how to leave
Won’t someone help me escape this forest
Please oh please?
People come and go
And although I beg and plead
They simply just ignore me
Won’t even help me to be freed
For a while I tried
I tried to ask for help getting out
But it never worked
So eventually, I stopped all my shouts
I hate it in this forest
It’s dark and dreary
So why people even bother visiting
Makes me very weary
It makes me want to cry
It makes me want to scream
But I don’t out of sheer terror
That someone will end up stuck with me
So that’s what I do
I sit amongst these huge trees
I feel like they are going to swallow me up
And I wait for the day that I will finally flee
A Flower bloomed
It was a warm spring afternoon
The snow had just melted after a cold winter
The sun was out,
The sky was blue,
And the birds had just returned home
A Flower was blooming.
When the kids came out to play,
A Flower was hoping to share its beauty with them.
The kids crushed the flower.
A Flower continued to bloom
Still hoping to share its beauty.
More children came and stepped on the flower
A Flower struggled to keep blooming.
A mother and her son walked by.
A flower wanted to share its beauty
With them though it was damaged.
The boy smashed the flower with his foot.
His mother didn’t notice.
She continued to walk.
A Flower was damaged.
It turned gray and shriveled up.
It was gray as the cement that paved the road.
All it wanted to do was share its beauty with the world.
Instead, it was destroyed,
And its beauty taken
I woke up on a cargo plane, with what seemed like a hundred people aboard, sitting and waiting. I saw hands shaking, legs shaking, fingernails being bitten. Not one person spoke, they avoided eye contact. I was unaware of what was happening, and how I got here. The intercom broke the silence, everyone jumped and looked up.
Someone with a low and raspy voice spoke, “Attention passengers, in approximately one minute, we will be arriving at our destination. You will find a number on your left hand, this signifies your group, please identify your other group members before arrival. Upon arrival the cargo doors will open and you will jump, a parachute has been provided under your seat. Your objective is to scavenge for supplies, and kill anyone you may see, last one standing wins… Oh and watch-out for the radiation and bombing zones... “.
My heart was going a hundred kilometers an hour now. We were then assigned teammates. I saw the cargo door open and right away people jumped. I couldn't believe what was happening. I heard over the gusting wind “EVERYONE WITH THE NUMBER 18, JUMP NOW!”, I looked down and saw inscribed in my hand the number 18, I looked up and saw my group jump out, I followed.
I woke up on the ground, my teammates surrounding me looking at something. I was cold, I felt the snow go down my shirt and into my boots as I sat up.
They started to shout, “LET’S GO! RUN! NOW!”.
I looked behind me and saw what looked like a giant blue wall made of some sort of gas. It was coming fast and I crawled and stumbled when getting up. I began to run. We entered an open field and I started to hear the distant sounds of gunshots. We were still running and the wall was closing in on us. I saw one of my teammates get sucked in. We got to a road and saw a car. The only problem was that the road was parallel to the wall. Would we have time to get to it? There was only one way to find out. We started to run. I felt the adrenaline,which was already pumping, go crazy. The snow made it hard to run. Every breath froze my lungs. Finally we got to the car and sped off as fast as lightning. We looked behind us and saw people getting devoured by it. Some running, some shooting at our car.
“Desperate, aren’t they?”
“What was that?” I exclaimed.
“I have a feeling that was the radiation the operator was talking about,” one of them said.
Another one spoke, “Probably to bring us all together to the fight…”.
There was a moment of silence, until the driver spoke, “So, what’s your names, mines Jerry.”
“Dylan, ”one of them said.
I was the last to say my name, “Tyler”.
“I guess we’ll never know what our other teammate’s name was…”Jerry said.
There was silence.
“No..no! No!” Jerry said while hitting the steering wheel, “Out of gas…” he said looking outside.
“Already?!” I said leaning over the seat looking at the dash.
“I think it’s about time to get some supplies and gear," Dylan said.
We opened the doors and popped our heads out. We scanned the area to make sure nobody was around or following us. With caution, we ran across the road. There was a house big enough for all of us to loot. The first things I found were a Glock 19 with 9mm rounds and an energy drink. I then soon found a suppressor and stangelly, a frying pan which doesn’t seem that helpful but I pick it up just incase, you never know when you’re going to have to smack someone over the head to spare a bullet. When we gathered back outside I was surprised to see my teammates with larger assault rifles. Dylan also had what looked like a sniper rifle. I looked down at my gun and looked back up at them who were staring at my finds. Jerry start held back his laughter while turning around.
I spoke, “What? Does size really matter?”
Jerry said while smiling, “Some cases it does," he looked at Dylan and back at me.
“This is one of those cases…do you have another problem with that case?” He started to laugh with Dylan.
I exclaimed, “Oh come on guys, seriously, is this really the time to be making inappropriate jo...”
An alarm cut me off.
Dylan and Jerry ceased laughing.
“What was that?” Dylan said with a worried face.
We looked around and by luck, I looked up. I saw what looked like white dots coming down to our location fast.
“Umm… guys..” I said.
“What?” They said.
I pointed to the sky. We started to realize what was falling down. It was an air strike.
“SCATTER,” I screamed.
We started to run to different locations. I saw Jerry run into a shed, I proceeded to run into it with him but as soon as I got to the door, it slammed on me.
“JERRY! IT'S ME! LET ME IN!”
I ran to the window and started to knock on it, screaming for Jerry to let me in. He did nothing to help me. I hear the first missile hit the ground then the second. Each one made my bones rattle. I closed my eyes, I was ready. I prepared for impact. The next second, I felt my body get lifted off the ground and a burning feeling on my face, my ears rang and suddenly, darkness.
Next thing I knew, I woke up, disoriented. I touched the snowy ground and dug my hands into it. I opened my eyes, the brightness of the sky reflecting off the snow hurt my eyes. I touched my face and felt the heat radiating off the right side as it was burnt to a crisp. I put my face in the snow to cool it. I then realized where I was. I started to feel my body, making sure I wasn’t missing any parts. I was fully intact. I lay back down, closing my eyes. -“thank god”.
I turned my body around to face the ground and went on all fours. I slowly stood up. I squinted, while looking around, because the sun was making the snow blinding. My eyes finally adjusted to the light and I was able to distinguish footprints leading from the shed out to a field. I heard a sound come from the house behind me. I turned around. I thought maybe it was Dylan, but it sound like multiple people. I slowly walked towards the house, my pistol in hand. I got to the deck and attached my suppressor, but as I was screwing it on, I dropped it. The sound of it hitting the deck was enough to make a pair of footsteps move towards me. I quietly ran to the other side. I heard the door open and I hid right at the corner of the house. I heard footsteps come towards me. I quickly attached the suppressor. I was ready to take the shot, but the footsteps stopped. I held my breath. I unable to control my heartbeat, and I was worried it would give away my location. I was relieved to hear the footsteps start to head back to the door, so I started to make my way to the front door. The slightest crushing of ice that my boot made was enough to make my heart and the footsteps stop. I heard what sounded like a name call then he walked towards me. I drew my gun and pointed it in their location. As soon as he stepped out from the corner I shot three rounds before he dropped to the ground. I slowly ran to the other side and into the front door. I crouched by a pair of windows in the front porch. I saw them, they were reloading their guns. I exited the front porch and snuck around to get to a better angle to fire. By the time I got to the living room, they were both gone. I slowly entered the room that they were once in and saw one of their feet in mid step exit a doorway. I followed. I turned the corner and was behind one of the guys. I took out my frying pan and wacked him over the head and held his body in front of me. The other man turned around and started to fire his assault rifle at me, but the body was taking all the shots. I threw the body towards him and ran into another room . I went to the front door and got outside. I looked ahead and saw Jerry’s body. He was shot from behind. I ran over to his body and turned him over. I looked at my hands, they were bloody. Had I lost my mind, I’ve already killed two people. Suddenly, a flash bang was thrown right beside me. A flash followed by ringing made me fall to the ground. I felt nauseous. I rubbed my eyes, my head and blocked my ears trying to make the ringing and brightness go away. I could hear the footsteps right behind me. I crawled to get Jerry’s gun. A boot plumided to my back. I got pinned. I tried to reach for my pistol on the ground but they kicked it away. There was another man. I guess I didn’t notice or see him inside.
“Well, well, well… Look what we have here…” One of them said.
The other looked up and pointed at something. I turned my head and saw the radiation. It was stationary at this point. I tried to crawl and wiggle my way out but one grabbed me. He started to drag me by the hood of my sweater. I grabbed at my neck as he was choking me. An idea popped into my head. I grabbed my zipper and unzipped my sweater. I stood up but was shot in the leg by the guy to my right. I grabbed my leg in pain and screamed, but they picked me up by the arms and feet and started to move me towards the radiation. I tried my best to get out of their grasp, but nothing helped. They proceeded to throw me into it. The second I hit it’s surface, I felt pressure slowly crushing my head. I opened my eyes. My vision was blurry and tinted blue. I could feel my legs and arms become numb. I tried to crawl my way out, but my legs were so numb I could barely move them, or at least I didn’t feel them move. I looked back at the men, and heard a distant gunshot. After a full second, they both fell to the ground. A bullet went through both of their heads. I soon after passed out.
I woke up on a bed, inside a house. My leg were wrapped in bandages and a wet cloth was sitting beside my face. Dylan was sitting by the window, looking outside. I tried to get up but Dylan rushed over to me and sat me back down.
“Here take these,” he said as he passed me some painkillers.
I laid my head on the pillow and popped the pills in my mouth.
“I thought you were dead… I guess not…” he said while tightening the bandages.
“Yeah, by some miracle I guess,” I responded.
“It’s a good thing I found you or you would have legit been toast,” he said.
“Ya, thanks back there by the way…” I replied.
“I’m surprised I got you out of that radiation, I’m also surprised I was that good of a shot.”
We both turned our heads to the sound of gun fire in the distance.
“We should really get a move on, the radiation is probably on it’s way. Oh, and also grab a gun...” he said while walking to the window revealing a pile of guns on the ground.
I got up and surprisingly I was able to stand up and walk, but with a limp. It must have been the painkillers acting quickly or I was still numb. I grabbed an assault rifle and followed Dylan.
We probably walked out five meters before we heard more gunshots coming from another direction, but this time a lot closer. We got to a wooded area and I checked my ammo clip to make sure it was full. Me and Dylan scanned the area before proceeding to walk forward. We saw movement in the thick undergrowth. We drew our guns and aimed. Suddenly, we saw flashes deep in the woods before bullets went flying in our direction. Some hitting the ground, others hitting the trees and some going right past our heads. We ran behind thick trees. The gunfire continued. I never looked back. I was so scared that a bullet would go through the tree I was up against, even if I knew it was big enough to stop a bullet.
“Okay, here’s the plan…” He stopped and looked around the tree.
“You don’t have a plan do you…” I replied.
“No..no I do not… should we make a run for it?”
I nodded at him.
“Here, drink this energy drink, it will get your adrenaline pumping.” He said while passing me a redbull.
“I think my adrenaline is already pumping enough.” I said with a slight chuckle.
He counted down from three. “Ready? Three, two one...”.
We got up and ran as fast as we possibly could. We saw the bullets hit the ground right next to us. We took a couple shots towards them while running. We were very close to getting to better cover but that's when we heard a very loud blast come from the woods. Louder than a normal assault rifle. I swear I saw a 50 caliber bullet in slow motion line up perfectly with his leg. I tripped over his body as he fell to the ground. I struggled to get back up on my feet, but bullets smacked the ground right in front of me.
“Leave without me! Run,” he shouted, trying his best to crawl to a tree.
“No way! You’re staying alive!” I shouted back.
I hid behind a tree shooting rounds out the side. I put my back against it and looked at Dylan. He had a grenade in his hand.
“Just run man, LEAVE ME," he said.
“No! We are winning this together," I shouted shooting more rounds.
“I’m just going to slow you down,” he shouted.
“Look at me! I got shot in the leg, and I’m fine!” I shouted back pointing at my leg.
“Look, there’s a difference between a 50 caliber bullet and a 5.56 millmeter bullet. They are probably some of the last ones, we’ll never hit them with our rifles, they’re too far for one of us to throw a grenade, I’m already injured so I can run at them and throw it.,"Dylan said.
He got up and I grabbed his arm.
“Are you sure about this…” I asked.
He nodded and started to run towards them. I never looked back. BOOM! I got up and started to run. I got to cover behind a small stone wall. I looked over expecting gunshots but Dylan got them. I turned around and saw a man standing with his back to me looking around. I got up slowly, that was enough to make him spin around shooting. I closed my eyes. I heard the faint click of the gun. It was out of ammo. I looked beside me to find bullet holes right beside my head. He looked up at me with a worried look on his face. I raised my gun, pulled the trigger but I was out as well. I took out a frying pan as he took out his grenade. He threw it towards me and I whacked it back with the pan. It hit the ground beside him and he looked up. I ducked behind the wall and the blast made my ear rings. Debris fell all around me. I crawled away expecting another person, but the radiation slowly disappeared. I sat there confused. Am I the last one standing? Thump. A blunt object hit me in the back of the head.
I woke up in a room. A meal provided in front of me. There was a man looking at me.
“Eat," he said.
I looked down. I was so hungry and without caring, I grabbed a chicken wing and took a bite.
I woke up on a cargo plane, with what seemed like a hundred people aboard, sitting and waiting. A dreadful expression came over my face, a scenario that was all too familiar.
It never fails to amaze me that every time I walk into a saloon all eyes end up on me, I guess to size me up. This dive was no different. It didn’t help that I was dressed head to toe in black with a trench coat and brimmed hat soaking wet from the rain. As I start walking towards the bar I’m stopped by an 8 foot gorilla of a man, who was obviously heavy into body enhancements, probably some cybernetics too. Without saying a word he points to the basket that says “WEAPONS”. Angering the local muscle is never a good idea, especially when they were 2 feet taller than me. I walk over and drop my new and improved Colt M1911 Pulse pistol inside. The saloon looked no different than any of the other 4 that I had visited in the other ghost towns, shop upstairs, gambling area somewhere in the back and of course drunks everywhere. This place did stand out more than the other places, though it did have more high tech equipment and more hired help like my gorilla friend at the entrance. Could be the right ghost town I’m looking for, sure hope it is. I make my way to the bar and ask the trash can looking robot bartender for a shot of whiskey, the good stuff and I flash it a silver token for payment. I Show a little coin and hopefully it will draw the right attention. After 2-3 shots I get a visit from a lady who seems to be the main mistress of the saloon. She was wearing a fine dress that was a bit revealing but not too much. She introduces herself.
“Name’s Cali, - what’s yours cowboy?”
I don’t say anything. She continues anyway, “Strong silent type eh? - I’ll call you Bob, you look like a Bob,” she says with a smile ,“so Bob, what’s your pleasure, .. gambling…”
I finally respond, “Information.”
She responds with a disappointed voice, “Well that’s boring! But I might be able to help. What are you looking for?”
I say, “Tech, black market tech for a client that would rather not go through regular channels.”
“Avoid the red tape huh?” She says with a smile.
“Exactly” I say “Avoid the red tape.”
“And this item is?” she asks.
“A clone synetheziser,” I respond.
“Oh I can see how that would be something that would require a lot of channels and questions. A very expensive request,” she says.
Without saying anything I pull out a gold token, basically a small fortune. She snaches it out of my hand, walks away and talks to someone in the back of the saloon. After a couple of minutes of heated discussion between them she comes back to me.
“Get a room at the hotel across the street and come back tomorrow night - someone will be here you can talk with but don’t waste his time or you might find yourself in trouble”.
She doesn’t wait for my response, she just walks away. I finish my drink, retrieve my gun and leave.
Still raining... I see the hotel she told me about but I’m smart enough to know that me going there is a trap so instead, I head to the hotel at the edge of town. Bit of a walk but good way to see if I have a clue. Even in the rain, the town is alive. People using buckets to collect the rainwater to drink and live. Kids running around splashing each other and mothers screaming for them to come in or they would catch a cold. A cold here could be a death sentence with no medication but they don’t care. Ghost towns are joyless cities, any fun is worth the risk. The buildings are stacked together and house dozens of families, the poor and the unwanted. All this because the government collapsed and the corporations took over. They built gated cities, those who could afford to live there stayed. Those that couldn’t were forced out to these ghost towns, controlled by the ruthless, a perfect place for crime and black market tech. The criminals would go into the cities and steal the tech to sell or use and come back to the ghost towns to live. Police would not go after them so they would hire people like me, TekHunters, to retrieve the stolen goods for money and a chance to live in the city. Not a great life but better than living in this hell. I get to the hotel with no incidence and get a room. I setup my usual traps incase I get unexpected visitors at night, strip my jacket and boots off and fall asleep in my damp cloths.
The next morning I am woken up by a knock on the door. The first thing I do is reach for my gun that's on the nightstand next to me. I make my way to the door and crack it open a bit. I see no one at eye level but I look down and see a kid standing there. I hide the gun behind my back and open the door fully. The kid turns out to be a boy but I couldn't tell with his long hair and dirty face. Without saying anything he hands me a note. I take the note and the boy remains there waiting for something. I reach into my trench coat pocket hanging next to the door and hand him a bronze coin. He looks really surprised to get something this valuable. He starts to leave my doorway but I feel bad for the little guy so I say, “wait,” and he turns around clutching the coin thinking I was going to take it back, instead I toss him a snack bar that I had in my jacket pocket. He looked like he needed it more than I did. He mouths the word thank you then runs off.
I close the door and look at the note. The front had the name Bob on it. It took me a few seconds to figure out who Bob was. With a smile I open it up.
“I guess you’re not good at listening to simple instructions, hopefully you can follow these ones. Let’s meet at the church at high noon to discuss the information you're looking for.” It was signed Cali.
I chuckled to myself thinking, “so much for no one tailing me”. I check the time and it’s 10:30 giving me enough time for breakfast and to prepare. A church isn’t a likely place for a trap but you can never be too sure.
The church was in the middle of the town. I looked around for Cali but instead found my gorilla looking buddy and a bunch of his friends. I walk over to them starting to feel a little nervous but still keeping my composure. Before I could say a word gorilla man points to the confession stand. I’m starting to think that the gorilla is a mute. I open the door and go in. I jokingly say, “Forgive me father for I have sinned”. The slot in front of me opens and someone starts talking.
“I hear you’re seeking some information,” a mysterious male voice says.
“I am looking for some information but if you have the merchandise here then we can deal right now and I can be out of your hair,” I say with a smirk.
He responds by asking, “You have the money now?”
I tell him that it’s somewhere safe. We agree to have some of his men come with me to go get it, then they would bring me to his warehouse. Once we exit the church I think to myself that this is really easy, a bit too easy, that’s when I see my gorilla friend smile for once, then I feel a powerful hit to the back of my head and everything goes black. I wake up from a splash of water to the face. At first I don’t know where I am. I start looking around and notice that I’m in the warehouse that the mysterious man was talking about. In front of me are two really big guys that don’t have any weapons but I guess they didn’t need any considering how big they were and I was tied up. They step aside and out comes Cali, no longer dressed in her dress but instead in army clothes.
She starts, “Sorry I had to do this to you.”
I didn’t say anything, I just give her a pissed off look.
She continues anyways, “I have what you’re really came looking for.”
From behind her back she pulls out one of the most expensive, most valuable tech known to man. God’s Hand - capable of recreating dead cells, torn muscle tissue and even bone marrow. Only the beta version was whispered to exist.
She guessed right, this was indeed my actual target.
“How did you managed to steal it from the Corporations?” I say with a little awe in my voice. Stealing this sort of tech must have been an impossible mission.
“You people are so dumb sometimes. We didn’t steal this, we made it. These silly Corporations are the ones doing the stealing, not us,” she says
“So all this time the Corporations have been the thieves, not you guys?” I respond
“Exactly! We are the ones making all the tech so we can survive but somehow the Corporations find out, lie to people like you then send you over here to take our tech,” she says in an annoyed voice.
“For all I know you could be lying to me,” I say
“You’ve seen the security the Corporations have, do you actually think we can simply walk in and take anything? We are left here to die! This tech is the only thing keeping us alive, keeping my boy alive,” she says.
Out from the dark the same boy that I gave the token and food to this morning runs to Cali and holds her hand.
“WE SHOULD BE THE ONES RULING THIS WORLD, NOT THEM,” she screams. “I RULE THIS TOWN BUT I COULD BE SO MUCH MORE, WE COULD BE SO MUCH MORE!”
She motions her hand and someone appears behind me, cutting my bonds. The big guys move closer to Cali but don’t stop her. Cali reaches her hand out and says -
“Join me, join us and help us take over these damn Corporations, help us take back the world.” She looks back at her son and then back at me. “There is kindness in you.”
I hesitate for a minute and then reach out and grip her hand. I bring her closer and whisper -
“I’m sorry but it’s too late.”
I quickly let go of her hand and duck down. A concussion grenade comes crashing in through the window blinding everyone. Dozens of Corp military troops break in guns blazing but thankfully I got to cover behind a shipping container. It doesn’t take long, these guys are merciless. I come out from my cover and see a bunch of dead bodies on the ground including that of a little boy. Merciless. I look around and find Cali. She was dying from a shot to the chest but her eyes were on her dead son. Then she looks at me with pure hatred.
I walk up to her and say, “This was over before it began,” I continued. “The moment I got a knock on the door I figured I was followed so I activated my tracking device to call in the cavalry. I knew all along that it was a trap and I would end up in a situation like this so I played along by going to the church and talking to the man in the confessional stand. I even took a hit to the back of the head to end up here,” I said this while rubbing the back of my head.
Cali didn’t care - her eyes were open but she was gone. I close her eyes and move her next to her son. I pick up God’s Hand and rejoin the team as they head back to the helicopter. I look back one last time at Cali and her son, feeling my eyes watering up. The soldiers don’t say a word. For them this is routine, the poor are lesser beings so not worth caring about much less shedding a tear. I sold my soul a long time ago for money and a nice bed in the city but sometimes I realize how bad a person I really am but it never lasts too long. As we sit in the helicopter and it starts taking off, I hand the prize to the lead sergeant who hands me a bag full of coin and a folder. My next mission, where I have to do this all over again.
For my blog post, I will be talking about why I think School is too long. I do think education is necessary in one's life as a teenager. It's important that we are educated and know the key information to help us for the future.The thing is at the same time I think school is way to stressful and long. For example, think about it, we have school for about 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. I think that's crazy because more than 70% the week we spend most of our time at a desk doing work.Since the age of 5 we've been exposed to the working lifestyle.Even when we were little kids we were assigned homework.We never really get a break from this even as adults we will be working 5 days a week.High School is supposed to be difficult because its preparing us for when we have to have jobs, but I think school for us teens is way too difficult and causes us a lot of unwanted stress.I read somewhere that 70% of the reason teenagers are stressed is because of the weight on our shoulders to do well in tests and assignments.I think in the future the school system should add 1 more day of weekend so that its a bit more fair, school days will still be longer and stuff but at least we'll have a much longer weekend, a break from school .One day makes a huge difference. I also think the school system should make homework on weekends banned.Weekends are supposed to be the few days in the week we can do whatever we want, hangout with friends, just have a break!! Yet most of the time we are given homework at the end of the week,and then in the end we have no free time during the weekend.
We’ve all heard of area 51. Whether it be in a book, movie, or from a story whispered around a campfire, you’ve probably at some point heard of this mysterious government building. Located about 150 miles from Los Vegas, it has been called an “Air Force base” that houses government scientists in complete secrecy. They try to tell the public that area 51 is classified for purpose of national security, but what are they hiding? What is so secretive that it requires maximum security and total classification that must be kept secret from the entire world? Well many have theorised that the government is hiding aliens and or alien spacecrafts. The first bit of evidence to ever see area 51 as more than a military aircraft testing zone was the incident in Roswell New Mexico, 1947. Brazel, a farmer, heard a very loud crash in his field so he went to investigate. Upon closer inspection on the crash sight, he fond pieces of plastic and silver metal scraps that he did not recognise. He called the sheriff, who was just as baffled by the findings as Brazel. The sheriff called the military. When the military arrived they came with fully armed vehicles and carted the debris away. Once this story hit the media, many came up and spoke out about how they saw this mysterious object crash from the sky. The government had told the public, that this was in fact a balloon that they had been testing for something they call “project Mogul”. It was said that project Mogul was a top secret project that was designed to detect sound waves in the upper atmosphere from Soviet atom bombs tests by flying microphones on trains of balloons at high altitudes. Some accepted this explanation, but others we're very sceptical. There was a video released of a supposed dissection of the aliens said to come from this crash, but that video was later debunked as a fake.The Roswell incident, as it’s most commonly referred to, is the turning point in all alien sightings. After this incident, reported “alien sightings” skyrocketed. This is around the time where people started to question the true intentions on area 51 and what work they were really doing. In 1989 a man by the name of Bob Lazar did an interview with local news that really solidified peoples belief of area 51 and their alien conspiracy. He is said to be the one who outed the truth about what happens in area 51. He claimed he worked in a lad within area 51 underground. He told local news all about the multiple disc shaped crafts much too small for any human to maneuver. He had been talking to his friends about all the space crafts and he tried to sneak them in to show them the crafts. He was inevitably caught and fired. The government tried to deny these claims and said he never even worked for them. This is a classic he said she said story and people who believe in aliens use this incident as further proof while sceptics stay sceptics. The true happenings within this secret government lab as of now is still greatly debated and very few know what's really going on.
A lot of people say that dogs are better than cats because they love their owners more. While studies have shown that dogs show more affection towards their owners, cats are not just cold hearted animals, they’re are capable of love. I myself have two cats at home, and even though it took awhile, they’re both very affectionate. I think the reason that people assume cats aren’t as affectionate as dogs is because dogs are extremely friendly when you first meet them. A lot of my neighbours have dogs and every time I’ve met them they’re always extremely friendly and want attention. Cats are different. It can take a long time for cats to get used to you before they give you attention. Both of my cats are currently 5 years old and it took one of them 4 years before she sat on my mom’s lap for the first time. When we first got her, we had to be in the room for at least 15 minutes before she’d even come out of her hiding place. Now she sleeps in my parents room and loves to get affection. I’ve also read that cats don’t know when you’re feeling down, and again, that is wrong. Whenever someone from my family has had a bad day, my cats won’t leave them alone. I’ll be sitting in my room doing my homework and both of my cats will come up and give me affection to try and make me feel better. Cats know when you’re feeling sad. I don’t know why, they just do. Also, cats are very loyal. Everytime I come home from school in the afternoon my cats are sitting at the window, waiting for me. If I walk up to the window they’ll meow at me and then jump off the table and go to the door to see me. After they’ve given me affection and sat with me while I’m doing my homework, one of them will go and sit on the chair in front of the door and wait for my mom to come home. Also, whenever I go to a friend’s house for the night, or my mom goes on a trip, my cats will sleep on our beds. They’ll walk around the house and meow, then they’ll go into our room and lie on our beds. So in conclusion, I’d just like to say, dogs are not better that cats just because dogs seem to love their owners more. Cats are capable of showing love and affection but it just takes longer for cats to get comfortable with humans than dogs.
The Canadian health programme suggest that every kid should do a minimum of one hour of activity a day to stay healthy. This is very true one hour of activities a day could make a big impact on your health life and even your mental life, the reason it makes a big impact is that kids these days mostly watch televison or Youtube and eat food when there not at home. When kids are at school they mostly sit down all day with a bunch of energy but that’s why schools have lunch breaks so the kids could go outside or go to the gym and do activities, which is very smart as they get rid of all there energy and get fresh air and get ready for the next class, but what do they do when their at home?
Good thing school’s give time to kids to do activities because a lot of kids won’t do their one hour of exercise or activities if they stayed at home all day, on average most kids and teens watch TV for the whole day which is very bad for their health and mental health. The one hour of activities a day could make a big difference in your life, when you do your activities your body starts exercising and gets you stronger and your mind is now relaxing from the TV screen and is now getting fresh air and thinking about the activity or exercise your doing which could make a big difference in life.
This idea isn’t only for kids it’s for everyone, when you get older and retire a lot of people don’t know what to do with themselves so they just stay home and watch TV which again is very unhealthy. This causes a lot of older people to gain wait and start having problems with their body, an idea for these people is to start taking long walks just so your body is moving and your mind is on something else then looking at a screen.
There are many positives about doing activities. First of all you stay in shape, you also get to rest your eyes and your body will start feeling great which is the best part. If you start having trouble to exercise and don’t feel like doing it just remember it’s only one hour of twenty-four hours so it won’t take long and you will start feeling great and everyone in our world will be happier.
Most people don't know much about the various cultures and religions of ancient civilizations. But today, I hope to allow you to learn about a specific deity I've always been fascinated by... that deity is the Triple Goddess.
The concept of the Triple Goddess reaches back to the time when Paganism was the largest religion in the world. Triple Goddesses are the representation of feminine energy, rebirth and psychic abilities, always depicted as three aspects. These three entities are, the Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone (though there are others, more ancient versions, this is the Neo-Pagan version), symbolized either by the Triple Moon (comprised of a waxing, full and waning moon) or the Triple Spiral.
But what exactly do the three aspects represent?
Well, the main quality the Maiden entity represents, is the idea of new beginnings, as well as youth, excitement, enchantment and female energy. Because of this idea of new beginnings and youth, the Maiden aspect was often celebrated during the Spring Equinox, known in Wiccan culture as the festival Ostara, when the world is awakening from its winter slumber. A festival, I may add, was most commonly used to celebrate the Maiden Germanic goddess by the name of Ostara, or Eostre. This festival is known in modern times as Easter.
Next, the Mother aspect. The idea of the Mother makes the Mother Goddesses, which are generally not triple entities, relate to the Triple Goddesses. This aspect is representative of power, fulfillment, fertility, but mainly the concept of new life. Worshippers of the Triple Goddess, almost all of them being women, in whatever form they choose to worship her, or them, in, often planned to bear children at the time of year when the Mother aspect was said to be strongest, the Summer Solstice, Litha.
The final aspect is that of the Crone. The Crone is mainly the spiritual representation of great wisdom, but also of magic and the underworld. Because of this, she's said to rule the cold season, her reign starting on the Wiccan Samhain, the ancient version of Halloween. She's looked to by her worshippers when they're in need to make a difficult decision and are seeking wisdom.
Now, there's two different versions of the Triple Goddesses pertaining to these three aspects. The first is that each aspect is represented by the same, triple goddess, either as three maidens, or one singular crone entity. An example of this is the Celtic battle goddess, the Morrigan, which has three aspects, Anu, Badb and Nemain, and the Greek witchcraft goddess, Hecate, who's three aspects aren't named.
The other belief is that different goddesses represent each of the three aspects, instead of one goddess representing all three. For example, the Greek triad of goddesses, the Maiden, Persephone, the Mother, Demeter, and the Crone, Hecate.
Today, the Triple Goddesses are still being worshipped by Neo-Pagans throughout the world, the most popular being worship of Hecate and the Morrigan, though there are many others. Hopefully, you have learned something interesting about this intriguing type of deity.
I was buried in words and sentences and grammar and everything of the English language that one could possibly need in order to write a book. And all I could think, the entire time, was how overwhelmingly big publishing my own book was. Its size didn’t really fit it was such a big concept. At first, I was doubtful and sort of wary of what it would turn out to be but as the book took some shape (after quite a while of writer’s block and some serious page-staring), I started to see the very faint outline of what I wanted it to be and how I wanted it to end. But you know what, I think it was one of the best things I’ve ever done. I feel so accomplished, even though there are some typos and it’s not going to become a classic or anything, but that wasn’t my goal. My goal was to publish a book, a book that I wrote and poured over with all of my brainpower and heart. I achieved my goal and I am proud of that, not because I think that my book is amazing or anything but because I did it and that’s what I wanted to do. The one person I would like to thank for making all of this possible is my passionate teacher, Ms.Melinda Cochrane. If it weren’t for her none of this would have happened. Believe me, when people say shoot for the stars they’re not joking, because I shot for the stars and now my book is officially published! So go out there, and wherever you are, shoot for the stars, because how far in the deep galaxy of life you might end up will surprise you.
All schools teach about writing is grammar and the structure of an essay. Kids are taught to always follow the guidelines and they will fail if they don’t. However, true writing has been forgotten by the annual curriculum. Writing should be delving into your creativity and simply capturing it on paper, not the boring repetition of creating a response to some weird story. Thankfully, I was lucky enough to have a course this year that allowed me to write freely without anything holding me back. This opened up the world of writing to me and presented new opportunities. I got to write an actual book and create a business to sell said book. This course taught me not only what it was to write, but to be a writer as well. A writer is not someone who simply writes a story. A writer is someone who is determined to succeed and pursue their passions through writing. They have a drive to continue writing and won’t stop no matter how many people try to bring them down. A writer writes because they love to write. This class perhaps is one of the most eye opening courses that I have taken, as it taught me life skills, like how to start and run a business. This world of writing is truly a tremendous community to be a part of and I hope that many other people my age will discover it as well.
Writing is more than just a few words on a piece of paper, it’s a million thoughts in a few sentences. It’s the thousands of crazy emotions and images flashing through the writer's head. The thoughts about what to write next, what to add, how to fix up the story, these thoughts never leave. These thoughts follow you everywhere and will emerge when inspired by something so simple or simply nothing at all. Writing is that rush you get when everything falls into place, when the missing piece of the puzzle finally comes to your mind. Writing is a random thought scribbled on a napkin so you don’t forget about it and stuffed into your pocket for later. Writing is that perfect patterned noise of fingers dancing across the keyboard. It’s pouring your soul into every single word and forgetting the time as you’re sucked into your own story because when you’re writing it’s not a story anymore it’s your own reality. Writing does not involve only the writer, it involves the world, people around you, teachers who showed you the way and other writers. It’s much too difficult to explain to someone who doesn’t write the feelings that emerge, no words could possibly describe it perfectly. You will drive yourself mad trying to come up with the perfect word, the perfect sentence, the perfect story. But the thing is that writing is not perfect there is both beauty and pain, suffering and freedom. There are times you wish to give up, throw away the pen, delete everything, and sometimes you will do that exactly, but that just leaves a blank page to start again.
So the year’s come to an end and what a year it’s been. Let me just start by saying, I wrote a book!! Yes, that’s right, a real life book is sitting in my home, and a few other people’s houses as well. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t proud because those 20 000 words were some of the hardest words I’ve ever written. I was swamped with planning and choosing which words to go where, and don’t even get me started on the unexpected writer’s block that would sneak up on me at any given moment. All to say, I couldn't have gotten through this without my friends and most importantly my writing teacher, Ms. Melinda Cochrane. She taught me that it takes dedication to become a writer and when times get tough you need to keep pushing through. She also helped me see the beauty in writing and how freeing a few words on paper can be. I admire her perseverance and talent and I can’t wait to see her name on the New York Times Bestseller list. Because I know she’ll get there and when she does I’ll look down at her name and think, that, that’s my writer’s room teacher and I’ll remember how honoured I was to have her teach me almost all I know about writing. So now I’ll be off resting in the sun or gallivanting through a field that I’m most certainly not supposed to be in, whilst I gear up for the onslaught of grade 10. But before I go, I would just like to thank Ms. Cochrane for the gift she gave me; the gift of writing.
Over the past year, I’ve been lucky enough to take part in the first ever BHS Writer’s Room. At the start of grade nine back in September, I remember being so excited about the new course; the idea of publishing a book sounded amazing to me. It was something that I’d been dreaming of since I was very young, a dream I thought would never actually become reality.
Classes started, and soon enough the huge project was assigned. I remember it seeming surreal and almost insurmountable at the same time, a daunting mountain that I had yet to climb.
The journey of writing what would become my novella took place over the course of seven months. Some days the ideas flowed and others were a struggle. Some days I thought I would never finish by the scheduled deadline, and others I was confident about the exact same thing.
But despite every obstacle thrown my way, I did finish my book on time. Twenty thousand words of my blood, sweat and tears have now been printed on paper, and flipping through them I feel nothing but pride. All those late nights reading and rereading the same passages over and over again until I practically had them memorized, all those long days of hopelessness and perseverance and dedication, they were all worth it. Why? Because in the end, my novella allowed me to discover a part of myself that would have otherwise remained hidden...and for that I am very grateful. So to Ms. Cochrane, and all of the Writer’s Room students who made this year so memorable: thank you.
Writer’s Room was a great opportunity for me to push my creative boundaries. I got to explore my ideas through many different compositions, such as blogs and a novella. In the process of writing my novella, I experienced some challenging and rewarding moments. Formulating ideas for characters and developing their personalities throughout the story was something that I quite enjoyed. I felt immersed in their world and the problems they faced. I tried to create characters that the audience would easily be able to identify and sympathize with. What type of backstory would cause a character to behave a specific way or act a specific way? I pondered this question frequently while composing my novella. I also learned about the hardships of writing and, as most writers, experienced writer’s block. For example, even though I knew what type of scenario I wanted to incorporate, it was sometimes difficult to put into words. Other times, I was dissatisfied with the direction in which the story was heading, and often reworked paragraphs or even entire chapters. At the time, it was quite frustrating, but well worth it, as the end product was really something I could be proud of. Writer’s Room allowed me to tell a story and to receive a hard copy of my work. I will forever treasure this class and the writing skills it has taught me. Many thanks to a great teacher and mentor, Ms. Cochrane, for allowing me to test the waters of the literary world, and what a truly fantastic world it is.
Writing my own book was far from easy. It was exhausting, emotionally straining and very challenging. However, I would have never changed the experience. An unexplainable feeling comes from typing that last word of the book. Finally finishing the story of the characters that have lived in my mind for months. Finishing off that happy ending that I always hoped for. In a way, a writer lives through their books and writing. This story will always be a part of me. I am so proud of my work and how far I have come this year. The countless hours spent writing finally paid off. All the stress, writer’s block and hardships were worth it. Receiving the paper copy of my book, yes the book that I wrote, was such a special moment. Holding a story in my hands that was just a figure of my imagination a couple of months ago left me speechless. I learnt that I didn’t care what other people thought of my writing… after all I never wrote the book for them. The book was written for myself, so I could say I did such an amazing thing that never in a million years I could have ever guessed would happen. What was even more great about this experience is that my friends supported me through the whole way. They were there when I couldn’t think of something new or when I didn’t think I’d ever finish the book. They were inspirations to my characters and without them the story wouldn’t be what it is. A book is a very personal thing to share, for me it’s kind of like a diary. Sometimes you have to face your fears and share that diary for other people, and that was the publishing process for me. The book was a learning experience for me, and I could not be more thankful for having this opportunity.
In winter all I think of is opportunity, and how the world becomes bigger and smaller at the same time. It becomes bigger because when covered in white it seems endless. It becomes smaller because often the thought of being in a snow globe comes to mind, which is contained and petite. Thinking this I take myself back to last January at the sledding hill…
I’m in my not-so peaceful mudroom with my noisy and excited siblings, laughing as I struggle to put my snow gear on. It’s finally the perfect day to go sledding, what with the fact that it only snowed on New Year’s. Suited up, I do my best to get into the car, because I feel like a marshmallow and look like one too. We drive to the sledding hill down the street and start to pile out of the car and unload our sleds from the trunk. I’m disappointed because it’s not snowing, even if there’s plenty on the ground. By the time we make it up the hill the sky is dark dark blue, and the only light comes from the streetlamps in the park. I settle down on the packed down snow at the peak and tilt forward to get enough momentum to slide down at top speed. I descend on my saucer, feeling like I’m flying and weightless. The air is cold and sharp against the tops of my cheeks where my neck warmer doesn’t reach. I am laughing hysterically and screaming as I fly. The world is pure snow. White and light and cold and perfect. It gets better, because now instead of just air I can feel snowflakes and my vision blurs because the sky is full of them. They dot the dark blue sky slowly and peacefully. My eyelashes are full of them and I let go of the sides of my sled to raise them up to the falling snow. Through my glee I realize the blackness approaching and it hits me that there is a drop coming up, but not soon enough. My hands fly back to my sides to grip my sled and my stomach drops and I coast down the steep little hill at the bottom. Then it’s over. My cheeks are pink, I am dusted with snow, the world is back to how it was, and yet the snow keeps falling.
The Singer Building used to be one of the most iconic buildings in New York City, but it is now forgotten and gone from the city that never sleeps. This skyscraper stood at an impressive 186 meters and was the tallest building in the world from 1908-1909, until the Metropolitan Life Insurance Company Tower was constructed. This structure was commissioned by Frederick Bourne, who was the head of Singer Sewing Company (hence the name 'Singer'). He hired architect Ernest Flagg, who was a designer of an architectural style called Beaux-Arts. This man believed that buildings more than 10 or 15 stories high should be set back from the street, which would explain why the Singer Building tower only occupies one quarter of the lot. The narrow tower’s floors were squares that measured twenty meters on each side. It featured magnificent classical detail on the exterior that was visible from all points in the city. The main lobby of this building was quite impressive, with ornate columns rising high up into several domes. Singer operated out of this building for around fifty years before moving to the Rockefeller Center in 1961. William Zeckendorf then obtained the building and pleaded for the New York Stock Exchange to move there, but was unsuccessful. Sadly, this outstanding feat of architecture was uneconomical because of its small interior sizes. The demolition of the Singer Building commenced in 1967 and ended in 1968. If the structure was deemed a landmark by the Landmarks Preservation Commission, it would have been saved. I think that it should have been given a landmark status, as it was one of the most iconic buildings in the city and could have been used for tourism. Many visitors would have loved to have seen it since the skyscraper was architecturally beautiful and had great views of New York. Despite that, though, the Singer Building became the tallest building to have ever been demolished until the Twin Towers, ironically built on the same location, were destroyed.
Lessons From A Blank Page
Writing a book is something I’ve wanted to do for as long as I can remember. For years now, I've imagined myself, a finished novel in hand, flipping through pages of a world from my imagination. This year I’m lucky enough to be a part of the Writer’s Room, a class which will allow me to fulfill this dream. But it’s a challenge that’s easier said than done. Sitting down at my computer, a blank screen with the words “Chapter One” staring me in the face, I suddenly felt weighed down by discouraging writer’s block.
Does this mean I can’t write? That my idea isn’t good? That I should just give up? Some days, that’s what I believe: and although it can be a difficult burden, I’m lifted by the realization that I can understand an important lesson. Writers who jot down whatever, who string together words because they have a deadline, are those whose works are missing something. A passion, a flame, a spark. Us millennials expect everything to be done instantly, but the world just doesn't work that way and learning to accept this is important. Not only is writer’s block a part of the creative process, but it can be a springboard for other great things along the way. Just look at me: it was while staring at the first blank page of my novella that I came up with the idea for this blog.