Short Story #2

And here's number 2!

1776 – Amelia’s Point of View

I stood quietly next to US as we watched the men sign a piece of paper.  I brought my tiny hand to my eyes to wipe the tears.  I didn’t want to upset Britain and UK, but my people wanted to be free; I had no choice.  US and I were so young…it hurt to have to break away from them.  UK and Britain had raised us.  Mr. Franklin put a gentle hand on my shoulder.  It had been determined that US and I would go to help deliver the message to the King.  I looked up to see him smiling down at me, a slight twinkle in his eyes.

Once the meeting ended, Mr. Franklin escorted US and I out of Independence Hall.  “I know it will be difficult,” he said, “but it’s the right thing to do.”

I nodded, looking down.  I felt a tear rolling down my cheek.  My straight, dark hair cascaded in front of my face.  US grabbed my hand and gave a gentle squeeze.  I looked up to see him grinning at me, his short blonde ponytail swaying in the light breeze, “mama and papa will understand.”

“I hope they will,” I whispered softly.  Mama Britain and Papa UK would surely understand.  Both of them knew how hard they were on us after the French people tried to hurt us.  But then our other people had sided with the French.  I’ve been told that I look like them; the only difference is my blue eyes.

After around 2 months, we had finally reached Great Britain.  Mama Britain and Papa UK were waiting for us on the docks.  US and I squealed in delight and raced to hug them.  Papa UK picked me up and spun me around.  “And how is little Miss America,” he asked.

I hugged him, “doing well, papa.”

Our “babysitter” looked at us with a hateful eye.  My smile faded as papa put me down.  Mama took my hand as we walked to the palace.  I knew that this was not going to end well; I knew that mama and papa would hate US and I.

 

Once the Declaration was read, I finally looked over at mama and papa.  Mama had tears streaming down her face and her hand covered her mouth.  Papa was looking at the floor, but I could see the hurt in his eyes.  Mama quickly walked over to US and I.  “Why” was the only thing that she asked.  US and I couldn’t stop our tears, “we’re sorry!  It wasn’t our fault; we didn’t want to leave either of you!  It’s just that, you both have been so hard on us that we couldn’t take it anymore!”

Mama and Papa looked at us painfully before leaving.  I only saw them look back once; the same thought on everyone’s mind.

There will be war.

Short Story #1

Hey guys, I decided to post two short stories that I wrote last year on this blog.  Feel free to post a comment and I hope that you guys like them! :)

March 25, 1911 – New York City, New York, Unites States of America

Amelia Jackson, known only to the closest of friends, and co-workers, as Lady Liberty, tucked a loose strand of jet black hair behind her tan ear as she walked the streets of New York City, tall buildings all around her.  The people walked to work like any other day.  Although industries were booming, many of the workers weren't happy with the conditions.  She sighed in frustration.  Although being able to hear her people’s thoughts could come in handy, it also gave her insight to the working conditions that she never experienced.  She smiled whenever she saw one of my coworkers walking to work.  She stood out among the crowds of New York City.  She heard the slurs that were directed toward her.  Native American blood ran through her veins, among others, and Amelia was proud of it.  Since most of them were immigrants or born to immigrant parents, Amelia had taken it upon myself to learn as many languages as she could.  It was enjoyable, though Amelia learned many languages from other nations.  They were actually surprised that she could even speak another language besides English, even though she could already speak all of the languages spoken by Native Americans. 

Reaching the door of her building, she walked up to the eighth floor, going through the daily bag check before walking to the sewing machine that she always worked at.  Everyone, including Amelia, thought that today would be just a normal day at the shirtwaist factory.  However, they couldn't have been more wrong.

The workday had been going smoothly, like every day before, until 4: 40 pm.  One of the women that Amelia worked with told our production manager that there was a fire.  The smell of smoke filled the air.  The production manager tried to put out the fire with a bucket of water, but by then the fire had spread too far.  The women and girls began to panic and everyone rushed to the door.  The manager tried to get the fire hose to work, but to no avail.  Amelia raced to the door and ushered the girls through the door one by one, trying to calm the panicked girls.  Glancing over at the telephone, Amelia saw a woman run over to it, a panicked look plastered to her face.

"What's wrong," Amelia yelled over the screaming.

"The switchboard's not putting me through to the 9th floor!"

Cursing under her breath, she yelled, "you go on! I'll handle the 9th floor!"

She ran past Amelia to the door as Amelia turned and ran to the stairs.  The production manager was running up the stairs in front of me, trying to reach the girls trapped on the 9th floor.  When the pair reached the door, Amelia could tell that something wasn't right, something was hissing behind the door.  Realization hit her as Amelia pulled the manager out of the way, watching the door explode in front of them.  She told him that she would handle getting the girls out of there.  He simply nodded and ran to get out of the building, never looking back at youthful-looking girl.  Tears streamed down Amelia’s face as she felt some of the girls burning.  Their screams rang in her ears and she could feel the women suffocating on the smoke.  These women and girls had done nothing wrong, why was this happening?  What did these women do to deserve this?

Coughing, Amelia gripped her skirt and jumped over the flames in the doorway.  She looked around and saw that many of the girls were gone.  Some of them were still trying to make their way to the elevator.  She looked around to see other women and girls in a panic, trying to find another way out.  Amelia looked out the window to find that the fire escape no longer standing.  Left with no other option, Amelia watched in horror as two girls stepped out onto the window ledge.  Gripping onto each other, the poor girls took their final step off of the building and plummeted to the ground.

Screaming in pain and sorrow, Amelia felt the impact that, surely, killed the girls instantly.  She felt a stream of blood flow down the side of her face as more of the girls jumped to their deaths on the streets below.  By the time Amelia finally looked up, there was one girl still alive, crouched down and crying.  The poor thing looked no older than 15 years old. Amelia pulled herself up and walked over to the girl, wrapping her arms around the girl and rocked her gently.

"I don't want to die, America," she whispered in broken English.

"I'm not-"

"I know what you are," she whispered, "you are America."

"A smart girl," Amelia said, smiling.

"I don't want to die..."

Amelia stood up, with the girl still in her arms, and walked toward the windows.  "We won't."

Amelia looked down at the girl and smiled, "I'll break the fall as best I can."

She stood up on the ledge and looked out at the city.  Amelia stepped off the ledge, and curled herself around the girl.  She felt the girl grip onto her shirt as they fell, getting closer and closer to the ground below.  She couldn't tell if they were both screaming or if it was only one of them.

Amelia curled herself further around the girl and turned onto her back.  Amelia felt her back slam into the ground.  Amelia’s head snapped backward and hit the concrete.  She felt something wet against the back of her head.  She looked at the girl to find that she was still alive, thank God.  The girl’s wrists looked a little swollen, but overall, she looked fine.

People rushed over to the two and Amelia insisted that they should look over the girl instead of herself.  She stood and watched as the dead bodies were lined up and put in caskets, crying the entire time.

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Amelia woke up screaming, tears falling down her face.  She looked over to find her cellphone next to the alarm clock, her laptop on her desk, the baseball bat sitting in the corner, the TV buzzing, video games strewn across the floor, her iTouch was plugged into the stereo, and worst of all, all of Amelia’s scars were still visible across her tan skin.  A shadow appeared in the doorway, bright blue eyes looked at Amelia with concern, "America, are you okay?  I heard you screaming and..."

Amelia nodded, "I'm fine US."

"No you're not," he shook his head, running a hand through his wheat colored hair, "Amelia Jackson, tell me what's wrong."

She sighed, "the triangle shirtwaist factory..."

Amelia felt something move on the bed and a pair of arms pulled her backwards into something warm.  "I know it hurt. It's difficult to be a nation, but we get through it."

Beowulf

When I started reading Beowulf, I thought back to the mythology unit that I had in my 6^th grade Reading/English class at my old school.  We only went over a simple version of Beowulf, but I still remember the little stick figures that we made for each character.  As I read through Beowulf, I couldn’t help but think back to those silly little stick figures with missing arms and x’s for eyes.

I really did enjoy this epic tale.  That may be because I love mythology and old epics, but I liked the poem just the same.  I did appreciate the references to Sigemund from Norse mythology, and the fight between Beowulf and the dragon reminded me of the fight between Sigurd and Fáfnir (the dragon that Sigurd has to fight).  Both the dragon from Beowulf and Fáfnir are guarding a treasure while Beowulf and Sigurd fight, and slay their respective dragons.  Beowulf is, essentially, a mash-up of some of the greatest warriors in mythology.  There’s Sigurd/Sigemund with their dragon slaying streak, and the strength of Heracles/Hercules.

I admired Beowulf most of all.  When he was younger, Beowulf is the ideal warrior.  He’s brave and strong, and clearly able enough to take on any foe he comes in contact with.  I mean, he took off Grendel’s arm without any weapon for crying out loud!  I’d say that gets some major warrior points.  Even though Unferth tried to tell Beowulf that he [Beowulf] wasn’t good enough to defeat Grendel, Beowulf simply said that he wouldn’t use a sword because it would be an unfair advantage.  The only thing that I could think of was “is this guy nuts?”  And then Beowulf goes and rips Grendel’s arm off with his Herculean strength like he pulls a monster’s arm off every morning before breakfast.  I bet that back in the day, every guy wished that he could say “yeah, I took off a monster’s arm this morning.  And I didn’t even break a sweet.”

As Beowulf ages, his wisdom grows, leading him to become a wise king that cares for the protection of his homeland and his people.  Even as an old man, Beowulf is still kicking monster butt.  He wanted to slay the dragon and obtain the treasure, not for himself or his family, but for all of his people.  I feel bad that the majority of his men ran away when Beowulf went to fight the dragon.  The only one that stayed and helped Beowulf fight the dragon was Wiglaf.  Shows how brave the other warriors are.

So far, I’ve enjoyed all of the books so far, especially this one, and I hope that the other books are just as good.

Wuthering Heights

Overall, I really did enjoy Wuthering Heights.  I thought that it would have been a more Jane Austen-esque book, but I was pleasantly surprised.  I seemed like a slightly darker, more twisted version of a Jane Austen novel, which reminded me why I like creepier stories (hello We Have Always Lived in the Castle).  

Heathcliff was one of the more interesting characters.  He tried so hard to be with the first Catherine only to have her choose Edgar.  I mean, you have to feel bad for the guy.  The only girl he loved threw him away for a guy that could give her a few shiny trinkets.  But, he did become pretty mean after Catherine tossed him aside.  He became harsh, cruel.  Even after he took revenge through Hareton, Edgar, Isabella, his son Linton, and even the second Catherine, he loved the first Catherine just as much as ever.  

Throughout the novel, Emily Brontë mentions ghosts multiple times.  The spirits give an uneasy effect.  Ghosts are usually thought of as souls who are uneasy and are unable to move past the land of the living for one reason or another.  Perhaps Catherine's ghost did not want to leave the land of the living, or Heathcliff demanding that she has to stay and wouldn't care if she haunted him. Though it is nice to see that Heathcliff and Catherine are together in death, even though they were unable to while they were alive. 

Through the novel, Brontë gave the impression that love is a destructive force that almost always leads to hurting people.  In the triangle between Heathcliff, Catherine, and Edgar, all three parties are hurt by Catherine's love for Heathcliff and her decision to marry Edgar instead.  

After Hindley's wife died, he turned to alcohol for comfort (which probably wasn't the best idea with everything that he did while drunk).  Hind key must have really cared about his wife, because it was her death that made him begin to loose his sanity.

I do feel sympathy toward Linton, Hareton, and the second Catherine.  While Linton was not one of my favorites, his own father forced him to marry Catherine just so that Heathcliff could finish out his revenge against Edgar for taking Catherine away from him [Heathcliff].  The three of them are only tools in Heathcliff's master plan.  The relationships between Hareton, Linton, and Catherine are almost like the relationships between Edgar, Heathcliff, and the first Catherine, and as I was reading about them, I was just hoping that their lives wouldn't turn out like Edgar, Heathcliff, and the first Catherine.

Personally, Edgar was my least favorite character in the novel, along with Isabella.  The Lintons were too scared to stand up for themselves, it was actually quite sad.  I think that I would have liked them more had Edgar and Isabella actually stood up for themselves, or at least Edgar against Heathcliff.