The Letter C

C is a crescent moon,

a curling wave,

a creaking bridge,

and a colorful rainbow

C is a creeping smile,

 a crystal necklace,

a window covered in clouds,

and the sun rising in Colorado

Nature Poems

The wind howled on the grassy field

The trees provided a shield

The icy river flowed silently

and the sun wasn't shining brightly

tree buds blooming

the grass is turning bright green

it's finally spring

My Short Story

The Journal

It was the 5th move this year, my parents said it would be different this time, that we were here to stay. That’s what they said the last 4 times. Honestly, I hoped it wouldn't be different, I already hated it here. It was a small town in the middle of nowhere, and it's hasn't been sunny even once in the few weeks we'd been here. School hasn't started yet, and my parents keep telling me I should explore and make some friends before summer ends. Only problem with that is there's nowhere to explore, and no friends to make. I had already been to the library, the high school, and every little shop in town. I hadn’t seen anyone my age, or really anyone at all. The only real place to explore was the forest, the town had basically been built in a small clearing in the middle of a forest, so anywhere you go you can see the woods. That’s where the story begins, the forest.

It was the last week before school started, and the sun was shining for the first time. I knew we wouldn't be here long so I was determined to make the best of what might be the only sunny day I’d ever see here. I hopped on my bright blue cruiser. The perk of moving around so much was my parents felt bad about it, and always bought me something for each new place. The time before last it was a camera, and last time it was a phone. This time it was a bike I had been wanting forever, but had never been in a town small enough to ride it wherever I wanted. With nowhere to go in town, I rode to the edge of the forest. I don't know what I planned on doing here, maybe I would take some pictures. I entered the forest, and just kept walking until I found what seemed like a good place to stop. It was a small clearing, the sun was bright enough to see clearly, but it was sort of foggy, and the trees towered over everything casting huge shadows on the moss covered ground. The forest was beautiful, and the lighting was perfect, so I took my camera out of my bag and began looking for the perfect shot. A few seconds later I was on the ground, I didn't remember seeing anything to trip over, but when I got back up, I saw what had made me fall. It was a journal. What was it doing out here? I picked it up hoping to find some clue as to whose it was, but it was empty. I suppose I should have left it where I found it, but for some reason, I put it in my bag. I picked up my camera that had luckily fallen onto a patch of grass, and was unharmed, and also put it back in my bag. The light was dimming, so I started heading home.

My parents got home just a couple minutes after me. I told them about my day, minus the tripping over a journal, and asked about theirs. There was nothing to eat in the house and I didn't really feel like exploring the takeout this town has to offer, so I said goodnight, and went to my room.

My alarm reads 6:30, August 31st. The first day of junior year. Nothing could have prepared me for what would happen this year. Despite the fact that I was in the middle of nowhere, with no friends, I was sort of excited to go to school, or at least more excited than I was about doing nothing all day like I had been pretty much all summer. The morning went by too quickly and before I knew I was walking into the High School. I had never been popular, but I had always had friends, and no one was ever anything but nice to me. I suppose if I had had some negative said to me I would have been better prepared. I made plenty of friends my first day, but I also met plenty of people who decided the best way to start their school year was making fun of the new girl. I had no idea what I could  have done so wrong, but the whole day I heard “does she really think that outfit can make up for how ugly she is” and “who does she think she is acting like she actually belongs here, she doesn't fit in, and she never will.” I had never felt as bad as I did hearing the whispers that they made sure were loud enough for me to notice all day. I refused to answer my parents about how my day was as I ran to my room crying. I feel onto my bed sobbing.

  

Later that night I pulled out the journal I had found. Ever since I could write, that’s what I did to feel better when I was upset. Sometimes I just wrote about my day, sometimes I would make up stories, and sometimes I would base those stories on what had upset me. That’s what I did tonight. “The new girl felt lonely, didn't the other kids understand how hard it was not to know anybody, not to know what you should and shouldn't do. She supposed not all of them did, some people just belong no matter what, and she had never been one of those people. But those people wouldn't have perfect lives for long, some people don’t believe in Karma, but Lydia did. It’s only fair that bad things happen to bad people.” I paused to think what should happen to the bullies, I'm not a violent person, but I’d never felt this bad before, and it was just a story after all. “it was 2 in the morning, they were coming home from a party, driving drunk. the road home was dangerous, it was slippery due to the rain that was pouring harder than usual, they couldn't see more than a few feet in front of them.. Suddenly, a car comes out of nowhere, and crashes into theirs, causing them to run off the side of a cliff they hadn’t seen, AND THEY DIED.” Then I thought, something positive could happen too, to me of course. “She honestly thought everyone would be devastated, but she wasn’t the only person they had bullied, as the days went by less people grieved, a few weeks later, it was like nothing had happened. Lydia and her friends became the popular girls, but they weren't like the girls who went off the cliff. They were kind to everyone.” I felt better now, being in control of my writing made me feel more in control of my life. Ya I hated those girls, but I didn’t really want them to die. I had made friends, only a couple, we would never be the popular girls, but still they were good friends, and that’s all that mattered. I wouldn't let those girls bring me down again.

I woke up the blare of sirens speeding past my house. I rolled over to look at my clock. 2:30 was flashing in bright red. I tried to go back to sleep but I couldn’t, I felt uneasy. But why? The sirens had nothing to do with me. When 6:30 came I nearly jumped out of bed. After yesterday I never wanted to go to school again, but I felt like I had to, like someone would know what the sirens were about, and I wouldn’t be okay until I got answers. I got them all right, without even asking. It took less than a second before I was overwhelmed with the sounds of sobs and rumors. “Ya, off a cliff.” “The police said they were drunk.” “Hit by another car I heard.” “From that party last night.” “2 in the morning.” No, no, no, no! I ran out the door and raced home. I sprinted to my room and read over what I had written a million times. This was not okay, how could everything be happening exactly how I wrote it? It had be a coincidence, an awful coincidence, I had nothing to do with it. I told myself that a million times. But I didn’t feel any better. The funeral was the next week. I didn’t feel like I should go, I didn’t know them well enough, and my memories were nothing but bad. I went anyway. I still felt responsible, so I went to pay my respects.

Weeks went by. I realized in horror that it seemed like no one even remembered what happened. And everyone was treating me differently, like I wasn’t the new girl anymore, but like I was in charge. It scared me, I wanted me and my friends to be popular, but I didn't know how to react to all the attention. Eventually I got used to it, and even forgot what had happened. At first I was scared to use the journal again, but I did. Certain tests, bad hair days, people who got on my nerves, I was using it almost daily, and it worked every time. Each time I told myself it was the last, my life was perfect, I didn’t need to use the journal, but I still did. Day after day. The week before school ended was no exception. My popularity was distracting me from my school work. I would need a miracle to pass my classes and become a senior. Not to mention prom was coming up, and I couldn't take any chances, I had to go with the most popular boy, the chances were high without magic, but I needed to be sure. So I took out the journal, flipped to a new page, and grabbed a pen. I felt somewhat guilty, but I had something people would kill for, I should use it to my advantage. The school year ended up being great. The final bell rang, and it was summer. I felt especially bad that afternoon. My life wasn’t perfect, it was fake. It hadn't been enough just getting what I wanted, I had to make other people suffer, and that scared me. I wasn’t that kind of person before this year, and I didn't want to be. I had to fix my mistakes. So I took out the journal and opened to the last blank page. “Lydia had had a great time living her dream life. But it was time to come back to reality, to let things happen the way they should.” With that my story was concluded, but I felt what I wrote was to vague, to many things could go wrong if I wasn’t specific enough. So I wrote a final line, separate from the story, that cleaned up the mess I had made. “It was August 24th, a week before school started.” I was on the ground in the middle of the woods, my camera was lying beside me in a patch of grass. I got up cautiously.  Wow, I can't believe I missed that rock, I really should pay better attention to my surroundings. The sun was setting, I picked up my camera, and headed home.

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