Revision #3: The Golden Rule

Original            

           “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”  This is known as the Golden Rule, or the rule that took the privacy out of the world. 

My name is Heather Wilkins.  I am sixteen years old, and it is currently 2045.  I am writing in this battered notebook in hopes that someday, someone will see the things that I see, and understand.  Note that these words must be kept hidden from the blind followers of the science of the Revealers, and only shared to people who can see.  I see things, and not the normal things that people see.  My parents and my friends don’t understand.  They don’t understand what kind of world we live in.

After Hitler and the Nazis fooled the world with their convincing grins and breathtaking speeches in World War II, the world was in ruins.  Americans were flustered at the sight of the torture that the Jewish people were put through in concentration camps, and even more horrified that they had no knowledge of it.  The German people would have to recover from being at the top of the world with a ruthless tyrant, and would have to pay the price.  Every other country that fought in World War II was trying to recover from debt, damage, and an extreme death toll.  Despite the damage that the war inflicted, it brought about a great change in the minds of the leaders of each nation.  In a meeting now called the Assembly of Peace, the greatest minds and leaders from each country got together in the heart of Berlin, Germany to discuss how to prevent such an act of betrayal and violence, as Hitler’s, again.  This is when the America’s president at the time, Harry S. Truman, remarked that he could never tell what was a truth or a lie out of Hitler’s mouth.   

This is what gave scientists the idea to develop the “Revealers.”  The Revealers are contacts, specially designed to fit every eye.  A unique technology is placed inside of each contact lens that allows the wearer to read other people’s emotions.  They were designed to keep the peace; as long as every person knew the other’s emotions, there would be no misinterpretation of thought or action, and no more secrets.  As long as every person knew the other’s emotions without misunderstanding, they should treat them how they would like to be treated.

Lawmakers around the world quickly took to the idea of the Revealers, claiming that they wanted to prevent “such ghastly violence and revolting betrayal.”  It soon became required for all citizens in the United States over the age of 17 to get a surgery that fused the Revealers onto the corneas of the eyes.  Citizens 12 years and older would have reusable pairs of contacts with the emotion-detecting technology embedded in the lenses.  Before an entrance into any building, each person 12 years and older has their eyes scanned using a biometric eye scanner that specifically checks for the technology of the Revealers.  If a person is not wearing their specially designed contacts, the scanner will alert a 24-hour security team.  The person will have no time to run, because security will promptly show up to take them away in less than 20 seconds.  Out of all the people that are taken away, no one knows where they are taken. At least, that is what the government wants you to believe.

There is a small amount of people who rebel against the system of the Revealers.  They have decided that being able to read people’s emotions leaves them no room for air, no privacy.  If everyone is analyzing each thought that goes into your head whilst in a public space, it is like you are stripped bare for all to see.  Candor has become the number one priority in society, but not by choice; it was by a law and a surgery forged out of fear. 

Each person rebels differently depending on their age.  Sometimes, children 12 years and older will take out their Revealers, and walk through the scanners.  The eye scanners will automatically pick up the missing contacts, and they will be taken away.  People 17 or above can avoid the scanners, but if a person avoids the biometric eye scanners for over a month, security details will check up them to make sure they are wearing their contacts.  Many rebels are also caught this way.  When a rebel of the system is taken away, they are taken to an underground facility underneath Berlin, Germany.  The Rebels have nicknamed it Auschwitz after the horrific Nazi concentration camp during World War II that took the lives of over 1.1 million Jewish people.  The name suits it; for, the rebels are brutally tortured and nearly starved to death, similar to the Jews that were forced to attend the camp.  Once a prisoner is on their deathbed, a torturer will bring a rebel out of their weeks of solitary confinement for questioning.  They want to know why they have not been wearing their peacekeeping Revealers. 

“Easy,” the rebel will grin through greasy hair and a racking pain that causes their whole body to shake, “They endangered my peace of mind.”

A fire will light in the prison keeper’s eyes as he stares down at his decadence captive. As these are the only unfortunate words that the rebel has muttered in the last few weeks, the warden will drag the prisoner back to their dank cell, and grimly say, “Since it was too difficult to wear the contacts, I don’t think you have a use for your eyes anymore.”  They will then proceed with the protocol of chaining the prisoner up to the wall, and brutally stabbing them in each eye to blind them.

As the torturer holds the knife above the bloodied and convulsing rebel, he will grimly whisper, “Now you will have plenty of time to think.”  The torturer holding the knife smirks, and hurls the now crimson knife to the floor.  “Welcome to Auschwitz part two.”

Now you know the terrible irony of the situation at hand; the leaders of the world “committed” to peace take rebels of the system to the heart of the violence to subject them to excruciating pain and conditions, all for one question.  The leaders of this world have broken their precious Golden Rule, and for that they must pay.  Whoever is reading this must find the rebels, and spread word of the violence.  Do not give in to allowing yourself to be brainwashed by the idea of peace by the Golden Rule and the Revealers; people deserve the right to their privacy.  My name is Heather Wilkins, and I am sixteen years old.  In two days, I will attempt to run from the surgery that fuses the Revealers onto my corneas for the rest of my life.  Do not try and find me, and do not ask how I write this information.  All I ask is that you keep this journal safe, and spread the word.

Revision

           “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”  This is known as the Golden Rule, or the rule that took the privacy out of the world. 

My name is Heather Wilkins.  I am sixteen years old, and it is currently 2045.  I am writing in this battered notebook in hopes that someday, someone will see the things that I see, and understand.  Note that these words must be kept hidden from the blind followers of the science of the Revealers, and only shared with people who can see.  I see things, and not the normal things that people see.  My parents and my friends don’t understand.  They don’t understand what kind of world we live in.

After Hitler and the Nazis fooled the world with their convincing grins and breathtaking speeches in World War II, the world was in ruins.  Americans were flustered at the sight of the torture that the Jewish people were put through in concentration camps, and even more horrified that they had no previous knowledge of it.  The German people would have to recover from being at the top of the world with a ruthless tyrant, and would have to pay the price.  Every other country that fought in World War II was trying to recover from debt, damage, and an extreme death toll.  Despite the damage that the war inflicted, it brought about a great change in the minds of the leaders of each nation.  In a meeting now called the Assembly of Peace, the greatest minds and leaders from each country got together in the heart of Berlin, Germany to discuss how to prevent such an act of betrayal and violence, as Hitler’s, again.  During the meeting, America’s president at the time, Harry S. Truman, remarked that it had been impossible to tell if the words coming out of Hitler's mouth were a truth or a lie.  

This is what gave scientists the brilliant idea to develop the “Revealers.”  The Revealers are contacts, specially designed to fit every person's individual corneas.  A unique technology is placed inside of each contact lens that allows the wearer to read other people’s emotions.  They were designed to keep the peace; as long as every person knew the other’s emotions, there would be no misinterpretation of thought or action, and no more secrets.  As long as every person knew the other’s emotions without misunderstanding, they would treat them how they would like to be treated.

Lawmakers around the world quickly took to the idea of the Revealers, claiming that they wanted to prevent “such ghastly violence and revolting betrayal as Hitler's, again.”  It soon became required for all citizens in the United States over the age of 17 to get a surgery that fused the Revealers onto the corneas of their eyes.  Citizens 12 years and older would have reusable pairs of contacts with the emotion-detecting technology embedded in the lenses.  Before an entrance into any building, any person of age to be wearing the Revealers has their eyes scanned using a biometric eye scanner that specifically checks for the unique technology.  If a person is not wearing their specially designed contacts, the scanner will alert an omnipresent, 24-hour security team.  The person will have no time to run, because security will promptly show up to take them away in less than 20 seconds.  Most people think that this is good, this is safe.  The security teams are keeping us safe by keeping these rebellious people off of the streets.  What these people do not know is where these people are taken.  Out of all the people that are taken away, no one knows where they are taken.  At least, that is what the government wants you to believe.

There is a small amount of people who rebel against the system of the Revealers. Instead of seeing it as a technology designed to keep the peace, they see it as a weapon of war.  They have decided that being able to read people’s emotions leaves them no room for air, no privacy.  If everyone is analyzing each thought that goes into your head whilst in a public space, it is like you are stripped bare for all to see.  Each emotion, the good and the bad, would be broadcast to the world.  If a venomous emotion is aimed at the wrong person, there would be no hiding it.  War is a distinctive possibility with the Revealers, even more so now that the people are unable to hide their true opinions.  Candor has become the number one priority in society, but not by choice; it was by a law and a surgery forged out of fear.  

The people who rebel against the Revealers do it differently depending on their age.  The children who are required to wear the Revealers as contacts will take them out, and will defiantly walk through the biometric eye scanners.  The eye scanners will automatically pick up the missing contacts, and they will be taken away.  People older than 17 are able to avoid the scanners, being that they already have the lenses fused to their corneas.  Unfortunately, this does not make all citizens blind followers of the emotion-detecting technology.  People highly opposed to this system with the misfortune of having the contact-fusing surgery will go as far as blinding themselves to prevent themselves from being used as the government's "guinea pig" for peace.  Due to the law of the Revealers, security details must come once a month to check up on every person who has had the surgery of the Revealers.  If a person is found to have blinded themselves, they will quickly be escorted away.  When a rebel of the system is taken away, they are taken to an underground facility lying underneath the heart of Berlin, Germany.  The Rebels have nicknamed it Auschwitz after the horrific Nazi concentration camp during World War II that took the lives of over 1.1 million Jewish people.  The name suits it; for, the rebels are brutally tortured and nearly starved to death, similar to the Jews that were forced to attend the camp.  Once a prisoner under the age of 17 is on their deathbed, a torturer will bring the rebel out of their weeks of solitary confinement for questioning.  They want to know the why of it, so they can solve the problem early on in other children's lives.  They want to want to know the why of it, so they can snuff out any other remaining resistance.  They want to know why the child has not been wearing their peacekeeping Revealers. 

“Easy,” the rebel will grin through greasy hair and a racking pain that causes their whole body to shake, “They endangered the peace; they were weapons created for war.”

A fire will light in the prison keeper’s eyes as he stares down at his decadence captive. As these are the only unfortunate words that the rebel has muttered in the last few weeks, the warden will drag the prisoner back to their dank cell, and grimly say, “Since it was too difficult to wear your contacts, I don’t think you have a use for your eyes anymore.”  The torturer will then proceed with the protocol of chaining the prisoner up to the wall, and brutally stabbing the child in each eye to blind them.

As the torturer holds the knife above the bloodied and convulsing rebel, he will brutally whisper, “Now you will have plenty of time to think.”  The torturer holding the knife smirks, and hurls the now crimson knife to the floor.  “Welcome to the new and improved Auschwitz concentration camp." 

Now you know the terrible irony of the situation at hand; the leaders of the world “committed” to peace take rebels of the system, children no less, to the heart of the violence to subject them to excruciating pain and conditions, and all for one question.  The leaders of this world have broken their precious Golden Rule, and for that they must pay.  Whoever is reading this must find the rebels, and spread word of the violence.  Do not give in to allowing yourself to be brainwashed by the idea of peace by the Golden Rule and the Revealers; people deserve the right to their privacy.  My name is Heather Wilkins, and I am sixteen years old.  In two days, I will attempt to run from the surgery that fuses the Revealers onto my corneas for the rest of my life.  Do not try and find me, and do not ask how I write this information.  All I ask is that you keep this journal safe, and spread the word.

Revision #2: Dangerous Lives

Original

            Her bright blue eyes gleamed with indifference as she was roughly dragged by the arms to the shimmering blue lake.  She did not kick nor scream as a bald, heavyset man untied a rope from her mouth.  She simply gazed at the clear, cloudless sky, and cleared her mind of her impending fate.  As the man continued to drag her towards the lake, veins popping out with effort, the girl imagined herself elsewhere.  She imagined that was swimming with her family in the neighborhood pool, and laughing as her father pushed her little sister in the cool water.  Her memory was cut short when she felt her feet hit the rough wooden boards of the lake’s dock.

            As she looked around the foaming white lake, she caught her last glimpses of beauty.  On the lakebed were pale rocks, seemingly untouched by human hands in their perfection.  Next to the weathered rocks was a dogwood tree with flowers blooming on each branch.  The pure flowers gently whispered in the wind, causing petals to fall off the tree and into the lake.  The tiny petals broke the water’s surface, causing ripples to flow out in every direction.  As they approached the end of the dock, she dimly became aware of how bright it was outside.  The sun shone down, breaking up any lasting clouds; it was a spotlight on her execution.

            When they finally approached the edge of the dock, the man’s devilish black eyes gleamed as he stared down at her with hate.  From a bag slung over his shoulder, the bald man pulled out a pair of handcuffs.  His smile was menacing as he replaced the rope that bound her wrists together with the gleaming iron cuffs.  When the handcuffs were locked in place, the same process was repeated to her ankles- forever binding them together.  To the girl’s horror and her executioner’s glee, she saw him expertly tie three lengths of rope around the width of a cinderblock found at the edge of the dock.  It looked as if it had been previously placed there; her execution was planned.  The girl shut her eyes, blocking out the sunlight, and pictured her slow demise.  She would attempt to hold her breath out of the desire to survive before a raw panic would completely overtake her.  Her body would thrash like a dead fish in a vain effort to swim, and then go slack as she began to drown.  Memories would flash before her dimming mind, which would prevent her from staring around at her inky grave.  Ever so slowly, her thoughts would fade into nothingness, and there would be no more light.

            The girl’s eyes snapped open at the sound of the man’s feet rushing off, and she saw a blazing red fire.  The flames were coming from the forest near the lake, and quickly spreading to the trees near the lakebed.  A sudden swell of anger built up inside of her as she realized that the last sight she would see would be of the flames eating away at the gentle dogwood tree.  She also realized that her captor had left her here to die, and ran off to save himself from the approaching flames.  Just as she thought that all hope was lost, she saw a man racing towards her.  She recognized him.  It was Darwin… Suddenly, there was a roar of thunder, and a flash of lightning lit up the interior of the house.  I thought that I heard my little sister scream bloody murder from upstairs; for, she was terrified of thunderstorms.  As I glanced back at the television to see how Darwin would save his lover from a fiery death, I noticed that the television had been turned into static due to the lightning.  I grumbled with distaste at the hazardous conditions outside, wanting to ease back into a lovely night on the couch with my soft velvet blanket and an episode of Dangerous Lives.  I would just have to watch tomorrow’s episode to see if Darwin’s love escapes, or if the inferno will be her last glimpse of beauty.

Revision

            Her bright blue eyes gleamed with indifference as she was roughly dragged by the arms to the shimmering blue lake.  She did not kick nor scream as a bald, heavyset man untied a rope from her mouth.  She simply gazed at the clear, cloudless sky, and cleared her mind of her impending fate.  As the man continued to drag her towards the lake, veins popping out with the effort, the girl imagined herself elsewhere.  She imagined that she was swimming with her family in their neighborhood pool, and laughing as her father pushed her little sister in the cool water.  She was suddenly brought back into horrid reality whenever she felt her feet hit the rough wooden boards of the lake’s dock.

            Instead of focusing on the pain being inflicted by the gruff man hauling her down the dock, she looked around the foaming white lake for her last glimpses of beauty.  On the lakebed were pale rocks, seemingly untouched by human hands in their perfection.  Next to the weathered rocks was a dogwood tree with flowers blooming on each branch.  The pure flowers gently whispered in the wind, causing petals to fall off the tree and into the lake.  The tiny petals broke the water’s surface, causing ripples to flow out in every direction.  This was the vision that she would take to the grave.  As they approached the end of the dock, she dimly became aware of how bright it was outside.  The sun shone down, breaking up any lasting clouds; it was a spotlight on her execution.

            When they finally approached the edge of the dock, the man’s devilish black eyes gleamed as he stared down at her with hate.  From a bag slung over his shoulder, the bald man pulled out a pair of handcuffs.  His smile was menacing as he replaced the rope that bound her wrists together with the gleaming iron cuffs.  When the handcuffs were locked in place, the same process was repeated to her ankles- forever binding them together.  To the girl’s horror and her executioner’s glee, she saw him expertly tie three lengths of rope around the width of a cinder block lying at the edge of the dock.  It looked as if it had been previously placed there; her execution was planned.  He was going to throw her into the lake, drown her, and he had planned it.  The girl shut her eyes, blocking out the sunlight, and pictured her slow demise.  She would attempt to hold her breath out of the desire to survive before a raw panic would completely overtake her.  Her body would thrash like a dead fish in a vain effort to swim, and then go slack as she began to drown.  The sparkling image of the dogwood tree would flash before her dimming mind, preventing her from staring around at her inky grave.  Ever so slowly, her thoughts would fade into nothingness, and there would be no more light.

            The girl’s eyes snapped open at the sound of the man’s feet pounding on the dock, rushing away from her.  From where she stood trapped on the dock, she saw his muscular build sprinting towards an area to the right of the lake.  An area that had not yet caught fire.  She gasped as she saw a blazing red fire coming from the forest near lake, the flames quickly spreading to the trees near the lakebed.  A sudden swell of anger built up inside of her as she realized that the last sight she would see would be of the flames eating away at the gentle dogwood tree.  Her eyes took in the sight of the dogwood tree, branches ablaze in death.  The once snowy flowers were now turning to ash in the roaring inferno.  As she struggled to free herself from her bonds, she felt a sharp twinge of pain.  All of her struggling had left her skin bloodied, and crimson drops of blood trickled onto the cracked boards of the lake's dock.  Unfortunately, that was the least of her worries.  The fire was nearing the dock, and she still found herself stuck on the edge of it.  As she stared off into the oncoming smoke, she saw a man racing towards her.  Hope filled her chest.  She recognized him.  It was Darwin… Suddenly, there was a roar of thunder, and a flash of lightning lit up the interior of the house.  I could hear my little sister screaming bloody murder from upstairs; for, she was terrified of thunderstorms.  As I glanced back at the television to see how Darwin would save his lover from a fiery death, I noticed that the lightning had turned the television into static.  I grumbled with distaste at the hazardous conditions outside, wanting to ease back into a lovely night on the couch with my soft velvet blanket and an episode of Dangerous Lives.  I would just have to watch tomorrow’s episode to see if Darwin’s love escapes, or if the inferno will be her last glimpse of beauty.

Dear Grandma

Dear Grandma,

            I am writing this letter to you to say thank you.  I did not realize how much I truly appreciated you until I grew up, since you moved closer to home a few years ago.  Since you moved closer to home, I feel like we have grown closer, and gotten to know each other more over the time that we have been able to spend together. 

            Thank you for being my best friend.  You are someone that I can completely open up to, which has not always been the easiest task for me (although I am sure it is not for anybody).  Even if it is something that I have not told anybody else, I know that I will be able to tell you, and you always seem to know the perfect thing to say.  I am immensely grateful for the times we have spent at your kitchen table after the rest of the family has dispersed.  I believe that we could talk for the whole night if Bing let us.  Thank you for also being someone that I can laugh with.  Whether we are getting lost on the way to Cooper, or painting our shirts white with flour, we always seem to get a good laugh out of it. 

Thank you for your constant compassion towards others.  I cannot think of a moment when you have put yourself over another person.  It could be something simple, such as making sure that you are the one to do the dishes, instead of a guest.  You could also make dinner for 20 people, family, friends, and strangers alike.  Never have I seen you decline someone’s request to come to your house for dinner; instead, you welcome it with a warm glow.  Whenever people come to your home, they are allowed to be themselves, because you make the time spent with you fun and relaxed. 

Finally, thank you for being my grandma.  You have helped me to grow and learn in my life in more ways than I count, and have been doing it since that first day in the hospital.  You have been there from the moment that I took my first breath, cried my first tears, tried my first barbeque rib, and nicked my first garage door.  Although I cannot remember many of these firsts, I hope that you can be there for many more firsts that are to come in my life.  Since you have been there for me since day one, I know that you have been gently shoving me into the woman that I will be one day, and I am extremely grateful for the ever-present encouragement and love that you have given me throughout my life.  Thank you, Grandma.

With love,

Meghan

Revision #1: Crimson Nightmare

Original    
     I was standing in a field of daisies with the wind blowing my soft brown hair in the wind.  I was clothed in a simple white dress that matched the field of daisies, and it flowed around me as I twirled and laughed in joy.  As I looked up from the magnificent field of flowers, I saw a girl.  She looked like a younger version of myself, and even had on the same white dress as me.  As I ventured closer to the young girl, a bloom of crimson appeared on the girl’s chest.  It increased in size, expanding until there was not one spot of white left on the front of the girl’s chest.  Right before my eyes, I watched horrific bruises appear on the girl’s face, arms, and neck.  Her once beautiful white dress became ragged as if a chainsaw were allowed free reign on it.  Her skin had been clearly ripped off or badly burned where the dress had been torn away.  I wanted to avert my eyes from the ghastly scene, but something kept my eyes locked on the little girl’s.  Her eyes were not open wide in burning agony, but filled with a fiery hate that could stop a heart.  The little girl looked back up at me, right in the eye, and smiled. 

***

     I woke from the nightmare in a cold sweat.  My white sheets had become tangled with my legs, and my body was contorted in an interesting manner.  I was trembling, and tears of pure fear leaked out of my now fully awake eyes.  I was just about to turn on the lamp beside my bed, when I saw a figure out of the corner of my eye.  Someone was standing at the edge of my bed, watching me.  I could feel my hand trembling as I found the switch to my lamp, and turned it on.  The little girl from my nightmare was standing at my bedside.  Time seemed to slow down as she extended her hand out towards me.  Crimson blood dripped from her perfect porcelain fingers, and splattered onto my white bedspread.  It looked as if a small heart lie underneath my comforter, slowly bleeding its life away.  Then I saw something around her wrist that caught my attention.  It was a bracelet, my mother’s bracelet.  It had been years since I had seen that bracelet.  Against her bloodied skin, the shiny silver looked brand new. Suddenly, my bedroom door was thrown open, and my mother appeared in the doorway.  Her face was taunt with fright.  “I thought that I heard you call...” she breathed.  Her voice died as soon as her eyes fell upon the little girl standing at my bedside.  My mother's eyes widened as she stared at the ragged girl.  A thin line of sweat began to trickle down her forehead, and her breathing became rapid.  There was something off about her expression, though.  I could There was none of the fear that I had first felt at first seeing the horrendous little girl in her expression.  Instead, anxiety was etched into her expression.  Despite my incessant terror, I forced myself to look at the little girl.  She was a younger version of myself, the bloodstains slightly concealing  a birthmark on her cheek that has been known to run in our family.  Then there was my mother's bracelet.  Its alluring shine heavily contrasted with the girl's bloodstained dress.  "Mom?"  I asked, "What is going on?"  The little girl smiled.

Revision

     I was standing in a field of daisies with the wind blowing my soft brown hair in the wind.  I was clothed in a simple white dress that matched the field of daisies, and it flowed around me as I twirled and laughed in joy.  As I looked up from the magnificent field of flowers, I saw a girl.  She looked like a younger version of myself, and even had on the same white dress as me.  As I ventured closer to the young girl, a bloom of crimson appeared on the girl’s chest.  It increased in size, expanding until there was not one spot of white left on the front of her chest.  Right before my eyes, I watched horrific bruises appear on the girl’s face, arms, and neck.  Her once beautiful white dress became ragged as if a chainsaw were allowed free reign on it.  Her skin had been clearly ripped off or badly burned where the dress had been torn away.  I wanted to avert my eyes from the ghastly scene, but something kept my eyes locked on the little girl’s.  Her eyes were not open wide in burning agony, but filled with a fiery hate that could stop a heart.  The little girl looked back up at me, right in the eyes, and smiled. 

***

     I woke from the nightmare in a cold sweat.  My white sheets had become tangled with my legs, and my body was contorted in an interesting manner.  I was trembling, and tears of pure fear leaked out of my now fully awake eyes.  I was just about to turn on the lamp beside my bed, when I saw a figure out of the corner of my eyes.  Someone was standing at the edge of my bed, watching me.  I could feel my hand trembling as I found the switch to my lamp, and turned it on.  The little girl from my nightmare was standing at my bedside.  Time seemed to slow down as she extended her hand out towards me.  Crimson blood dripped from her perfect porcelain fingers, and splattered onto my white bedspread.  It looked as if a small heart lie underneath my comforter, slowly bleeding its life away.  As she extended her hand into the light, I saw something around her wrist that caught my attention.  It was a silver bracelet, my mother’s bracelet.  It had been years since I had seen that bracelet.  Against her bloodied skin, the shiny silver looked brand new. My mind reeled as it attempted to solve where this nightmare of a girl had retrieved my mother's favorite bracelet.  Unfortunately, I did not have time to ponder this further; my bedroom door was suddenly thrown open, and my mother appeared in the doorway.  Her face was taunt with fright.  “I thought that I heard you call...” she breathed.  Her voice died as soon as her eyes fell upon the little girl standing at my bedside.  My mother's eyes widened as she stared at the ragged girl.  A thin line of sweat began to trickle down her forehead, and her breathing became rapid.  There was something off about her expression, though. I could see none of the fear in her expression that I had first felt at first seeing the horrendous little girl.  Instead, anxiety was etched into her tired eyes.  Despite my incessant terror, I forced myself to look at the little girl.  She was a mini-me, and her emerald eyes shone beneath the blood and gore.  I imagined her without the crimson overcoat, and saw a girl with bouncing brown curls, a round, pale face, and a body as thin as paper.  In other words, she looked like me when I was about seven years old.  If I took a closer look at the bloodied girl, I could just make out a birthmark shaped like a small bell on her right cheek.  I stared at her, at it.  This was a birthmark that had been known to run in my family for generations.  How could she have it? She couldn't.  It wasn't possible. The little girl's mouth curled up in amusement as I analyzed her. My eyes again found my mother's lost bracelet shining on her wrist.  Its alluring shine heavily contrasted with the girl's bloodstained dress.   "Mom?"  I asked, "What is going on?"  The little girl smiled.  My mother grimaced.  "Sierra..." she whispered.  As I stared at mother in confusion, I felt something wet touch my forearm.  I slowly lowered my eyes to look at my arm, and saw the bloodied hand of the little girl.  Then everything went black.

***

     I opened my eyes to a field.  No, it was the field I had been in before, the field where I had first seen the girl.  White daisies blew around the hem of my snowy dress.  This time, it caused me no joy.  I felt the presence of the little girl before I saw her.  The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as if electrified, and my whole body tingled with panic.  I braced myself for the horrific sight of the girl before turning around, and gasped at what my eyes beheld.  I was standing on the side of a road, staring as my mother threw the clean little girl out of a silver van.  Their movements were slightly blurred, as if they were not real, a memory.  "Sierra, stay in the car," I heard my mother croon to a small child sitting in a car seat in the back of the van.  With a start, I realized that the small child was me.  It was me when I was about three years old, or eleven years ago.  I watched as my mother shut the door of the van, and walked to the girl lying on the side of the road.  Even from where I stood, I could hear the girl's dejected cries of some powerful emotion unknown to me.  When my mother reached the sobbing girl, she ordered her to stand up.  When the girl stayed where she was, I watched as my mother got down to eye level with the girl, and slashed the girl's arm with a gleaming knife.  It had come out of nowhere.  I wanted to run to the girl, but my feet stayed planted in place.  I couldn't move.  This was not my mother.  My mother would not harm a fly, let alone a little girl.  The girl's cry was one of pain and betrayal, a betrayal that could be felt in the marrow of my bones.  Words of brutality and insult began to tumble from my mother's mouth in a sort of crazed frenzy.  Each word came with a thrust of the knife at the little girl, and none of them missed there mark.  The little girl stayed where she was, taking each blow as if she were a punching bag.  Blood poured onto the girl's white dress, and jagged rips and holes appeared in the smooth silk fabric where the knife had torn it away.  Eventually, my mother threw away the knife, instead choosing to tackle the little girl.  The verbal abuse was now coming in unintelligible screams of rage, and my mother began to wrap her hands around the girl's neck.  Before she could completely crush the girl's breathing tube, a small wisp of sound escaped from the girl's mouth, "Mother, please."  That is when I started running.

Easter

This is Easter

A holiday where we are

Forced to dress up

In bows and ribbons and dresses galore

This is my grandmother's house

Decorated with lace, love,

And flowers

This is my cousin

Whose bright eyes and curly hair

Are always a welcoming a sight

This is second lunch,

A bowl of fresh noodle soup,

Eaten out of bowls with straws

Instead of spoons

This is a day full of travel

And back-and-forths,

"Hello's" and "Good-bye's"

And "Look at how much you have grown's"

This is a day filled with joy

And jumping on the trampoline

Playing dead-man walking, or

Running from wasps in the tree house

This is Easter

A holiday filled with love,

Happiness,

And family

The Capital of Kiev

A place of beauty

Of magnificence

Of duty

A place of glory

Of bright minds and

Of shining stars

A place of gorgeous white columns

Where marble climbs the buildings,

And pictures of old adorn the walls

It is a place of structure,

Where great speakers come to speak

Of the splendor of Kiev

It is a place of revolt

Where people run screaming in the streets

Fighting for their lives as they cry

Fighting for a cause

Fighting for their city

Fighting for Kiev

A place of war

Of bombs and of fire

And of rage

A place of destruction

Of love ones lost and

Of love ones never found

A place of smoke and flame

Billowing up into the great grey sky

The orange flames burning everything in their wake

It is a place of chaos

Where the screams of the dead

Cannot be hidden from the living

A place of mourning

Of broken hearts

Of words left unsaid

A place of memories

Of the once shining Kiev

Of the first fire

A place of ruin

Of families broken

Of marble crumbling

It is a ghost city

Where people walk dead in the streets

Where people stay hidden in their homes

It is a place of divide

Where opinions differ and

The sides have been chosen

It is a place of turmoil

Where the cries of bloodshed will always be heard

In the once magnificent capital of Kiev

The Forbidden Books

            Rule one:  be respectful.  Rule two:  listen to your father.  Rule three:  do not wander.  The fourth unspoken rule is:  do not think for yourself.  If you follow the rules, you will be okay, you will be safe.  There will be no punishment for you, no one armed with a belt or wooden spoon in your bedroom.  Well, I have a secret.  I don’t follow the unspoken rule.  I haven’t since I was four, and first got my hands on a book that my father did not allow us to read.  Yes, my brothers and I have “assigned” reading.  Assigned by our father, and taught by our father.  Most of them have to do with farming plantations, or American history, due to the fact that my father owns a large plantation.  He wants my brothers and me to take it over when we are of the proper age, so he has decided to turn us into his little minions.  Well, my brothers can be fooled into turning into my father’s minions, but he cannot hide me from the rest of the world just so I will do his bidding. 

            These unapproved books have my saving grace from the menial tasks of everyday work on the plantation.  They offer knowledge beyond what my father teaches, and a myriad of works and theories in mathematics and science.  Learning about Galileo and Copernicus, infinity and zero, and the anatomy of a human being have opened my mind to see the world differently that of a young boy living on a farming plantation.  All that I want to do is share this information with my brothers and my family, but then I remember my father’s unspoken rule.  If my brothers and I were allowed to think for ourselves, as I have been doing, my brothers may not have the desire to take over the plantation for my father.  After exploring countless of my father’s unapproved books, I have realized that the plantation is not where I want to be for the rest of my life.  I could do so much more with my life; I could explore the world, or I could come up with the next Pythagorean Theorem.  Even though I am only 10 years old, I made a promise to myself after reading that first forbidden book.  I will not be bound by father’s wishes; I know now that I have control of my own life.