Easy as Pie

Author's Note: I was just remembering an episode of SpongeBob I watched once, where SpongeBob says the word "cliche." It inspired me to write this piece, which is just a story with little cliches incorporated into it. See if you can spot them :) Just a note: This story has no plot line (it goes REALLY off topic)

The truth is, pie can be very difficult to make. You may think it's as easy as 123, but when you mess up it's back to square one. If it does turn out right, though, you'll be head-over-heels in love with it. Making bread is no walk in the park, either. If you don't knead it enough, it'll be flat as a pancake. Eventually, if it doesn't turn out, you'll have to give it a rest. One day when my mom and I were baking some bread, it turned out alright and my mom was grinning from ear to ear. But the bread didn't last long, because we brought it outside (where it was hot enough to fry an egg) and it flattened. I asked my mom if we could make it fluffy again and she responded "Of course. When pigs fly." It made me wonder if we could make something else. my mom said we could make cake, so I asked her what goes in it. "Oh, a little of this, a little of that," she said. Unfortunately, many of the ingredients needed to make the cake went into the bread. My mom and I drove down to the grocery store to buy more, but the long arm of the law caught up to her. The cop let her go, though, once he realized our predicament. Once inside the store, we couldn't seem to locate any butter. It was like finding a needle in a haystack. "Any idea where it is?" My mom asked me. I suddenly realized where it was. "That's a no-brainer. It's in the dairy section." We payed for the ingredients and were on our way. Soon enough, the cake was baked, but the oven started smoking. I realized there was a tiny fire inside it. "Abandon ship! Abandon ship!" My mom screamed, making a mountain out of a molehill. I located the fire extinguisher, put the fire out, and settled down to eat some cake while my mom calmed down.

Socially Acceptable?

There once was a time when people noticed you

For your brains, not your looks.

For your kindness, not your popularity.

For your confidence, not your habit of putting others beneath you. 

For your honesty, not your "coolness" factor

Most of that is in the past

It's unfortunate, but it can change
Stand out, be the difference that needs to happen

You can influence people.

Drowning

Blue shadows surround me
As I fall
Into the dark depths
Distorted
By all the lies, the lies
A pit
Inside my stomach
Growing
Bigger and bigger
as I sink
Deeper and deeper
I am
Drowning inside myself

A Horse Ride

Author's Note: This is a descriptive journal response to the art piece Le Blanc Seing by Rene Magritte.

Thick, lush leaves fluttered in the wind as I rode through the forest on my horse. A beautiful brown mare, with a thick mane and tail. The forest had a sense of peacefulness that always seemed to calm me down when I was under stress or otherwise upset. Who wouldn't be relaxed? The forest was beautiful: Vibrant flowers that shimmered with morning dew, fluttering butterflies in the summertime.

I stopped to look up into the trees, where birds were flying around and squirrels hopping from tree to tree. I’d love to live in a forest like this, I thought. My horse started to get restless, so we started moving again. I felt all the small jolts as his hooves connected with the ground. We soon stopped again so he could take a drink from a small stream, so clear that I could see each stone at the bottom perfectly. Around it, standing a little far off, was a small family of deer also taking drinks. They ran away when they saw me gazing at them. I got back on my horse and started riding deeper into the beautiful forest.

Illusions and Nightmares

An Illusion
Life is an illusion
Different from what you should see
Hidden by smoke and mirrors
Is the true meaning of life

Reality becomes muddled by dreams
Dreams invaded by nightmares
Becoming so that you can't tell
What is real anymore


Nightmares
Sat up in the middle of the night

When I woke up screaming

Things that come and haunt me

Never really go away

Dream of a life where nothing

Nothing, goes wrong
But those dreams
Turn into nightmares

Horrifying, ghoulish images
Fill me with terror
Come up in my memory
When I least expect it

The world through Teresa's eyes

Author's Note: This is a response to the book The Maze Runner and a scene from the book in another character's point of view.

Imagine waking up in a strange place, with strange people and strange customs. You have no memory of your life before that, and you're struggling to figure everything out. This is how Thomas, the main character in The Maze Runner, feels as he is bossed around by strangers. He finds out he is in an area called the Glade, where the boys there call themselves "Gladers." The Glade is surrounded by huge concrete walls, beyond which lies an enormous maze. All the other Gladers got there the same way Thomas did: one every month, with concrete memories wiped.The day after Thomas' arrival, a girl named Teresa is delivered to the Glade in the Box: the first girl to arrive. Thomas, Teresa, and the other Gladers escape the maze and find out they are being used by a scientist group called WICKED. WICKED puts them through many survival tests, and in many, Thomas is the hero. 

The book is written in Thomas' point of view, so the reader learns how he feels about everything that happens. If the book were to be told in Teresa's point of view, the reader would see the story in a whole different way. First off, Thomas is obviously a boy and Teresa a girl so the reader would see a more feminine side of things (For example, later in the book it is revealed that Teresa has feelings for Thomas. Just by stereotyping but also from other books you can see that females pay more attention to love, which the author almost always highlights).

The reader would most likely find out where Teresa was before she arrived in the Glade. When she comes out of the box and goes into a coma, no one can find out where she came from. Although, Thomas strongly believes he remembers Teresa from before his memory was wiped. If the book were in Teresa's point of view, the reader would find out a lot about what happened because when she wakes up from her coma, you can tell she remembered a lot from her life in the past. This would probably ruin the book, because one of the main things Thomas tried to find out was where Teresa came from, since he recognized her.

Another example would be when all the Gladers are trying to escape the Maze, and Thomas tells Teresa to stay behind and help the other Gladers get down. The reader gets a little bit of an idea what happens, but not as in-depth as they would have if Teresa was telling the story. 

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          I opened my eyes, slowly, because the light was almost blinding after being cooped up in the box for a while. When my eyes adjusted, I realized there was a group of boys staring at me. 

         Sitting up, I tried to tell them to back off. But I immediately became dizzy, so I had to lay back down. I don't know why, but I felt that I recognized one of them. Looking around me blearily, I felt a faint spot of recognition at the place I was in. Could I have...been here before?

         Using my "telepathic" abilities, I tried to communicate with the familiar boy, but no luck. That's odd...I could have sworn I've seen him before. I suddenly felt even dizzier. But I had a sudden burst of memory: I'd built something with him. Something big. For some organization...
         I whispered something I didn't remember before I fell back into my coma.
         I felt like I was dreaming while I was out, but strange images repeatedly flashed in. Somehow, they felt...familiar. Just like the one boy I recognized...
         Trying to remember everything just caused my thoughts to get muddled, pulling me deeper into my coma somehow. It became dreamless, and after what must have been days, I woke up.

Prediction of Delirium series (Creative Ending)

          Lena gazed at what used to be a green, lush forest, Hana by her side. Now, all that was left was a flat, burnt landscape, still smoldering from the bombings.
          "Lena...what happened here?" Hana asked.
          "The resistance. They found the Homestead and decided to blow the whole thing up. I still don't know where Julian and Alex are," Lena said bitterly.
          "Well...what do we do?" Hana looked around.
          "There's only one thing we can do. We have to keep looking for them," Lena said, determination creeping into her voice.
          "All right," Hana sighed. "Look, Lena, I want to find those two as much as you do, but I don't know where else we can look. We've searched this whole area, and not a sign of them. I give up."
          Lena was desperate to find Alex and Julian, but she knew that Hana was right: They were either dead, or had been taken away by the Resistance.
          "Fine. But I'm never going to be happy again." Lena felt like crying.
          "Not even if we showed up?" A voice said from behind her. Lena's heart raced. Could it really be them...? She spun around and ran, straight into Alex and Julian with so much force that they both stumbled backwards. Tears formed in her eyes,
          "Hey Lena," Julian said. He looked at Hana. "I don't think we've met...I'm Julian. Friend of Lena's."
          "They'd been a little more than friends," Alex muttered, but he still looked happy to see Lena.
          "This is Hana. My best friend," Lena said, ignoring Alex.
          "Hey...I think I've heard of you before. You're Julian Fineman right? I've seen you on tv," Hana said.
          "The one and only," Julian said.
          "So...what now? We found you guys, should we go somewhere?" Alex asked.
          "I think you all know where we're going," Hana said, winking at Lena. She smiled. Alex caught on, but Julian looked confused.
          "We're going to Portland, stupid. Let's go," Alex said, starting off in a random direction.
          "Hey Mr. group leader! It's this way!" Lena said, laughing. She led the way, keeping her eye on the blue seas and white sand that marked Portland's beach. The very same where she and Alex had met.