-
871 woohoo.
2006-02-28 15:51:13
Not really. I goofed in English - contributed to the discussion, then my brain went a little off-topic and I started cracking up in the middle of class. Now I'm trying to figure out how to apologize to my teacher without looking like more of a jerk. Sigh. Anyway...
We're picking our next-year courses on Thursday. I'm torn between Animal Science and continuing with Choir, and I have to choose between AP Environmental Science (the third AP I'd be taking) and Oceanography - which may or may not be a slacker class. It's a decision of blood sweat and tears, 'cause fuck if I know what I want to do with my life.
I'm trying to channel that feeling into one of my characters, but I don't know how it will work out.
BTW, I've worked more on that story, and feel like expressing it (makes up for having been away from my journal). Here:
To wonder where you are. / To wonder just how far / you've come and still need to travel / to attain that place you yearn for / yet cannot find. / Anywhere.
"So anyway," said Stephie, leaning across the table, "Any of you hear about Dickie Brown? Says he saw a ghost out in Ivy Grove."
"And he wasn't high, huh?" Dave cocked an eyebrow and leaned back in the corner of the booth. "Neh, he's too straight for that, though 'straight' might be--"
"Will you stop harping on that?" Amanda gave her boyfriend an exasperated glare, then whipped her head back to rest her chin on her palm and give Stephie an "I'm listening - keep going," look. "You know any details? Steph?"
She was practically laying on top of the table. "What're you writing, Evie?" Good ol' Stephie - attention span of a two-year-old.
Evie sighed. "Nothing special. Get down, will you?" She set the poem aside as her friend sat down and ran her hand through her tawny hair, mussing up the new perm and putting chemical stench on her fingers. Holding a now-straightened lock of hair, and considering the circumstances, Evie wondered again why she'd blown all that time and money on tonight. "You were saying about Brown?"
Stephie's expression went from blank to "Aha!" and she grinned her cheesy mischievous smile as she huddled closer to the center of the table. "Well, you know the story about the school there, right?" - Evie's eyes narrowed - "The fire that killed all those kids?"
"Ivy Grove High School. Freak fire. Kids died. What's your point?"
Stephie took on her 'wounded kitten' expression as Amanda's black eyes read "lighten up!" Evie rolled her eyes and made an apologetic gesture. Not that she felt it. Stephie resettled.
"What they say is that a kid did it, after killing his classmates in cold blood." Stephie hunched lower, probably wishing she had a flashlight to light herself up with, like at a campfire. "He was some poor reject with nothing to lose - you know the type. Tricked the others into going upstairs, and they played with lighters and knives. Cops uncovered both in the ashes," she added, giving herself credibility. "And after all was said and done, the guy found himself trapped. Burned to death in the fire he started. Fitting, really. Then, some say that his ghost still hangs around. With burn scars and wild eyes. Angrily stalking the grounds. Waiting... to--"
Evie barely held back a disgusted scoff. "I'm going to the bathroom." Before they could reply, she was up and out of earshot.
Stephie was a storyteller in the corniest sense. Fast and predicable. There wasn't anything wrong with that, though. Evie sighed and leaned against the bathroom door. It was a ghost story. She knew she shouldn't have been so irritated by it. Usually she could sit all night in the diner, gabbing with her friends and telling ghost stories until dawn. But Ivy Grove wasn't a "story." It was barely eight years old. It brought back too many memories to be a simple story.
She'd been nine, bewildered and scared the morning her sister Kate hadn't come home from a school party - the Art Club fundraiser hosted at the president's house. According to the news and what Kate said afterward, a friend in the club needed to get into the school - forgot something - and she convinced Kate and a boy from the club to go with her. They met the girl's boyfriend and some of his buddies, drunk. A fight broke out, and they somehow started a fire. It burned a good chunk of the school before the fire department got there, killing six of the eight kids in the building - the girl, her boyfriend, three of his friends, and the boy from the art club. One of the boyfriend's pals was still alive, but unable to walk. The only one to get out safely had been Kate. Some time afterward, rumors started floating around saying that the boy from the club had caused it all. Kate had refused to acknowledge them. And they transformed into Stephie's story.
Evie shoved her hands under the icy sink water and splashed her face. She hated remembering that. Hated remembering her strong big sister's months of counseling and crying. Hated remembering her rough transition to a crowded new school on the other side of town. Hated remembering her expression when her friends would ask, "Did Monroe really torch them?"
Stephie and Dave had come from elementary schools out in Fairchild; Amanda was an army brat and had moved here freshman year. They had no idea, and she liked it that way. She yanked some paper towels out of the dispenser and rubbed her face. Get a grip.
"You took your time," Dave remarked as she sat down again. "Your time of the month?"
Amanda gave him a rebuking kick in the shin and looked at Evie with concern. "You are pale. Should we drop you off home?"
"Oh come on, no!" Stephie protested. "You've gotta come with us, Evie!"
Evie looked at her with suspicion across the table. "Go with you where?"
"Where do you think?" Dave finished rubbing his leg and started pulling bills out of his wallet to cover their food. "Stephie the Loon here wants to check out Ivy Grove."
"Actually, 'Manda, that ride would be great."
Stephie's cocoa-brown pigtails bobbed as she folded her arms and slouched back in a pout. "E-vie! I hate it when you ignore me!"
"Quit talking stupid and I might listen," she said as she started gathering the group's trash onto one tray. "What do you want do, find the ghost?"
"Yeah," Stephie answered, smiling as though it was obvious. "Maybe talk to him. See if he's more lonely that psychotic."
"And he shall sing, 'Baby, join me in death," huh?" Dave glanced sidelong at her and laughed. "I think H.I.M. is getting to you, Steph!"
Evie stood up and pulled her arm through her coat sleeve. Keep it cool. She looked Stephie in the eye. "I'm not going to that school. And I don't want to hear about it when you come back. Don't ask me why, just accept that I'm not getting involved in this one. It makes your other ideas sound normal." She looked at the other two. "What about you guys? Are you seriously going with her?"
Dave shrugged into his jean jacket and grinned. "I'm game. And I'm surprised, Evie. Didn't think you were scared of ghosts."
"I don't believe in ghosts."
"Then what's the problem?"
"Don't want to talk about it. Amanda?" The girl's head jerked up. "Tell me you're not crazy."
Amanda rolled her eyes and shrugged, moving past her to the door. "Well, yeah, I'm not, but someone's got to keep an eye on the screwballs. Not counting you, I'm the only one with cell privileges at the moment." She glanced sidelong at the others, who were both technically grounded. Her face turned serious when she looked back at Evie, though. "Hey, I'm not putting you on the spot, E. If it bothers you, then don't come. Besides, we're not going to find anything, anyway. There's probably nothing but rubble there, right?"
"Which is exactly," Stephie concluded, jumping and grabbing Evie in a headlock, "why there's no problem with you coming! Hye, I promise," she said, releasing Evie and laying her hand over her heart (mockingly or not, Stephie made it hard to tell), "we'll just look around a little. We'll be home before midnight. May I be 'smited' if we get hurt." She laid her hand down. "So will you come? Please?"
Evie sighed and bit her lip. "One hour. Then I'm going home. Kate's coming home tomorrow."
A late January snow had settled that afternoon, muffling all sounds and making all roads treacherous. Dave's car - or as Amanda teased, his "compensation" - crunched into a large snowbank about a block from the ruins of the school. No one in the neighborhood reacted - all tired and indifferent. Evie jumped out of the backseat and turned around to help Stephie - "Why didn't you wear your seatbelt?" - as Dave and Amanda shoved their way out of the front.
"Damned slick!" Dave swore as he leaned to check the hood for damage. "Are you girls okay?" They all nodded - he'd been going fairly slowly - and Dave sighed in relief. "Maybe we should walk from here."
Amanda took some flashlights out of the trunk and Dave locked the doors. They walked close together, for security as well as warmth, though there wasn't much need. The temperature was just around freezing with no wind, and though it was a poorer neighborhood, it wasn't exactly teeming with crime. They were safe enough tonight.
They crunched through the snow in their sneakers, but none complained when the cold soaked through. The moon was replaced by clouds and light pollution, reflecting off the snow to give everything a strong orange tint. Contrasting it with Winter's somberness and the nature of their destination worked to instill a sense of unease in the group. Evie glanced around at the others, but they trudged on with a kind of determination. No one would back down now.
Soon they could see the school - what remained of it. It had once been huge, one long rectangle - not the awkward block structure - with decals and windows all along the outside. Now many of the windows were shattered or streaked, and the structure lost chunks to various cave-ins. There was a low archway over the entrance, with columns on either side and withered vines snaking up the sides. There were plants everywhere, bending under the snow, clinging to the walls, or creeping inside through the rubble.
Amanda aimed her flashlight a few yards off, at what had once been a hedge, but was now a mass of brambles snaking out across the yard. "It's been a long time, I guess. No one's tidied up in a while, so the forest is encroaching. Spooky, huh?" She glanced at Stephie, but there was no humor in her voice. It really was spooky.
"Not really. Just overgrown." Dave shrugged and marched forward, nudging a bush out of his way with his leg. "Come on. Let's see what we can find in here."
The front door was practically frozen shut, but soon jerked open with a crack. They played a round of "after you" until Evie rolled her eyes and squeezed through the door. There was actually nothing to be scared of - and they had been the ones who wanted to come. Her eyes widened and she shivered. It was colder in here than out in the snow; eerier too. She remembered the lobby - the huge hall with black and blue tiling and stairs that flew up to the left, with a long hall that curved to the right. The main office had been to the right, with a bay window where they had displayed student accomplishments. It was empty now, except for a few yellow papers and tape residue. Evie jolted as Stephie collided with her and they both moved out of the way.
Amanda ran the light around and Dave let out a deep whistle. "Big school."
"And it looks pretty normal," Amanda added. "The fire didn't touch this, huh? I'm surprised."
Stephie clung to Evie, her big eyes scanning the room anxiously. "What do you think broke the windows?" They all glanced behind them - the windows on either side of the door were cracked and missing glass.
"Punk kids?" Evie said it lightly, but a chill ran down her spine. "Where do you want to go first?" Dave indicated the stairway as Amanda clasped his hand. Evie nodded and led the way, tugging Stephie along by the hand.
"You know," Amanda commented as she looked around, "I wonder why they never built this back up. It looks like it was a really good school in its time."
True, back then, Ivy Grove had been the most well-off neighborhood in the area. "Times change," Evie answered. "After the school closed, all families with kids headed across town to Bellridge. Everyone else...," she paused halfway up the staircase, "just faded away."
Dave concurred: "No one likes the aura of death."
Amanda gazed up at Evie. "You know a lot about this, huh, Evie?"
They reached the top of the stairs, leading to a main entryway and two hallways and a smaller version of the main office. Swinging the flashlight around, they could see that the fire had been here. Smoke stained the huge pocked messageboard, and there were scorch marks intermittently on the walls - mostly leading to the right.
Suddenly, Dave did a backflip, landing on his hands and twisting around on the smudged tile floor. He let out a hoot as he fell back on his feet - never miss a chance to show off.
Amanda stared at him: "What the hell are you doing?"
He gave her his character shrug: "Too gloomy! You realize how much we can do here? Let's relax a little! Come on!" He grabbed her gloved hands and pulled her around into a slow dance. He had a point. Such moves were hard to get away with in their own school. Evie smiled, and even saw Amanda grin in spite of herself. Stephie broke down in giggles and quickly added her own routine, bounding and cartwheeling until a tile cracked under her. She stumbled to a halt and landed on the floor with a thud.
"Jeez! Will you guys be careful!" Amanda shoved out of her guy's hold and stepped quickly over to pull the girl to her feet. "It's a burned-out building! These structures don't hold together anymore! Look!" She pointed at the cracked tile, which had once been navy blue but was now a chalky light blue-grey. From it to the wall was ash-smudged and faded, the wall itself looked and smelled of charcoal. "Don't step over here!"
Uneasy as she felt, this made Evie grin a little as they walked out.
The flashlight beam bounced around the hall as their footsteps thundered ominously. Stephie would jump every time the light caught something strange - a stain that looked like a face, a light fixture with tooth-like cracks.
wow. big long thing. And not done by any means. Even the scene cuts off here. I shall get back to it. I think it's gonna be my first thing on DeviantArt. My friend finally convinced me to set up an account there. It shall be fun.
http://www.deviantart.com/view/29399876/
Heheh. Jaa ne. -
860 2222 Banners
2006-02-21 15:06:16
Amazing.
Not writing much today. My dogs demand my hands, and I have a DBQ I need to design and turn in tomorrow. That'll be fun *kill self*
I think my fascination with Phantom of the Opera has much in common with my fascination with Akira and the like: It's a twisted and fucked-up story, but COMPELLING! So, I found the book and have been more or less obsessed over the past week. I do not know how long it will last.
Did more with my story, but I don't have it on hand, so I can't show off right now - though I don't know anyone's reaction here, so maybe I shouln't bother. But I like to.
Started watching the series Alien Nation over the weekend - very cool. Little heavy-handed with its morals, but still very good. Also saw The Marriage of Figaro over at a local university. I didn't know opera could be funny.
I think that's all. Jaa ne! -
851 It's a SHNOW DAY!!
2006-02-13 06:32:51
And I'm already showered, so I can't very well go back to bed. But I'm having fun. I finished writing my assignment for Creative Writing (two pages of stuff), and now we can't present them ;_;. Maybe Wednesday. (*gasp* I gotta figure out my history project too - DOOM). My two pages are an alpha-beta poem with ostracism as the main theme (started as a Scarlet Letter assignment, but has shades of Phantom of the Opera and others) and the beginning of a story which seems to be a cross between Akira, Phantom of the Opera (did I mention I finally saw this Saturday night?), and ... Nell? Sounds weird, I know. Wanna see them? 'Course you do!
Alpha defeats the Omega
A may be an advent, the dawn of a new age
B is my black angel, lost to sin and rage
C suffers the cruelty, inflicted by the crowd
D is a strong death wish, never cried aloud
E is the endurance, the strength to withstand scorn
F is all your family, chains forged when one is born
G is god and guilt, staple diet for the lambs
H is hypocritical, with all his lies and shams
I is the ill-fated, hung up for all to see
J is judgment given, not what it ought to be
K is to know that you don't know or care
L is the loneliness, too much to bear
M is quite the martyr, dying so others can live
N is never known, never thanked for what she'd give
O is the oddity, hated above all
P is the purity, lost to those who fall
Q is all the questions, posed from babe to mum
R is a great romance, lost to old heart numb
S is scarlet, the hue of sin and blood
T is townsmen, kicking sinners in the mud
U is unforgiven, those impossible to bless
V is a thick veil, keeping flaws in darkness
W is a wound that does not heal well
X is the existence that you will never quell
Y is lovely youth, guarded until old
Z is insane zeal, making one too bold.
the black rose blooms in my heart, and twines out of my body, seeking moonlight and water more nourishing than my blood. It also unfurls its thorns, and wraps its way around, tightening and piercing to attain its desires...
"So anyway," said Stephie, leaning across the table, "any of you hear about Dickie Stevens? Seems he saw a ghost out near Ivy Grove."
"Not drug induced." Dave cocked an eyebrow and leaned back in the corner of the booth. "Neh, he's too straight for that, thought 'straight might be--"
"Will you stop harping on that?" Amanda gave her boyfriend a glare, then rested her chin on her palm and gave Stephie an "I'm listening - keep going," look. "What happened out there?"
"What're you writing, Evie?" Good ol' Stephie - attention span of a two-year old.
Evie sighed. "Nothing special." She set the poem aside and ran her hand through her tawny hair, mussing up the perm and putting chemical stench on her fingers. Holding a now-straightened lock of hair, and considering the circumstances, she wondered again why she'd blown all that time and money on tonight. "You were saying about Dickie?"
Stephie's expression went from blank to "Aha!" and she grinned her cheesy mischievous smile as she huddled closer to the center of the table. "Well, you know the story about the school that caught fire there, right? The six kids dying?"
"Ivy Grove High School. Electrical fire. Kids died. What's your point?"
Stephie and Amanda both gave her a "lighten-up" look, and Evie rolled her eyes and made an apologetic gesture. Not that she felt it. It wasn't a "story," it was barely ten years old. Her sister Kate had been a senior that year.
"What they say is that a kid started that fire, after killing off a couple classmates. And some say that his ghost still hangs around. With burn scars and wild eyes. Angrily stalking the grounds."
Evie barely held back a disgusted scoff. "I'm going to the bathroom." Before they could reply, she stood up and walked out of earshot. True, she shouldn't have been so irritated by it - usually she and her friends would gab over ghost stories in the diner until the wee hours, but that one always struck a chord with her.
She'd been eight, bewildered and scared the morning her sister hadn't come home from a late party - the Art Club fundraiser. According to what Kate said afterward, a girl in the club needed to get into the school - forgot something - and she convinced Kate and some other club members to go with her - and four boys. Kate never said how, but a fire started, killing six out of the eight kids in the building - the girl, her boyfriend, two of his friends, and a girl and boy from the art club. The fourth boy lived, but was paralyzed from the waist down and still. The only one to get out safely was Kate. Some time afterward, stories started floating around saying the boy in the art club had been responsible. Kate had refused to acknowledge them.
Evie shoved her hands under the icy sink water and splashed her face. She hated remembering that. Hated remembering her sister's months of counseling and crying. Hated remembering her rough transition to a crowded new school on the other side of town. So how could Stephie offer it up as gossip?
"You took your time," Dave remarked as she sat down again. "Your time of the month?"
Amanda gave him a dope-slap and looked at Evie with concern. "You're pale. Need to go home?"
"Oh come on, no!" Stephie protested. "You need to come with us, Evie!"
Evie looked at her with suspicion across the table. "Go with you where?"
"Where do you think?" Dave shrugged as he pulled bills out of his wallet to cover their dinner. "Stephie the Loon here wants to check out Ivy Grove."
I don't think that's bad for one go. I'm definately continuing it! ^_^ Can you tell where I'm going?
I think I'm gonna watch Phantom of the Opera again today. Jaa ne! -
846 Envy and the need for three hands
2006-02-08 15:06:46
Never thought I would need a third hand, but with two dogs competing for attention...
Got a new dog over the weekend - surprise. Big surprise. We'd been aiming for a big female, housebroken, not in need of a fence, etc. What we got was Snap, a medium-sized beagle mix male with big gold-brown eyes who's never lived in a house before. It's an adventure. He's a sweet dog, though, and eager to learn and please. The only difficulty is his relationship with Dusty. I wonder if they can sort it out sans bloodshed.
He's actually the second dog we adopted over the weekend. We went to Petco and met all the adoptees from HART. Snap immediately attached to me (which is new for me), but we instead went home with Wiley, a three-legged, sweet, energetic bull terrier-mix. He didn't work out. That night he was laying on the couch with me, and when Dad started clearing stuff off to make room for himself, Wiley snapped at him. Ended up sending him to the hospital with a deep gash in his arm. Mom and Dad got home at about three in the morning - Cris and Izzy stayed over. Next day, I stayed home for voice lessons while my parents went out to get Snap. When they got home, all I heard from the other room was "Snap! No!" over and over again. A little worrying. But he's a sweetie.
I hope we're doing a good thing for Dusty.
Now I must go. I have to crank out two Scarlet Letter essays, pull together my Scarlet Letter soundtrack project, AND study for the history midterm tomorrow. Shoot me now.
Jaa ne! -
840 Creative Writing
2006-02-03 15:48:27
Fun stuff. I need to write more often. First I must express the pain I feel at the moment. Menstrual cramps are one of the few sucky things about being female. And when I say sucky, I mean Black hole vacuum of space sucky! I could barely get through choir today. But now I have a heating pad and a lollypop, so things can get better with time.
I have successfully ripped most of my CDs, so I can put them on my iAudio, but mostly they're just sitting on my computer. Sigh. I'm listening now to "Happy Birthday to Me" from, according to the 10-year-old Best of Anime CD it came from, Cat Girl Nuku Nuku. Bouncy song.
We did an activity in English today, using one of those A, B, C vertical poems to help us remember the story of The Scarlet Letter. It was fun, and I really wanted to take some of the verses and use them for a more generalized poem. "S is for Scarlet, the hue of sin and blood, T is for townsmen who kick sinners in the mud." Mine, yes. If I finish a full version, I'll probably put it here. Just occured to me, this isn't a bad publishing board.
Just finished my second day of Creative Writing. First I was scared, but now I'm _over_ PMS and thinking, this may be exactly what I need for my writing - practice every day. So I'll write more often.
Last entry, I talked about Baby dying. Yeah. It's funny, I didn't really think I cared enough for Baby that I would cry (well, that thought is upsetting in and of itself), but I did. I don't know what I'm trying to say; I guess: You don't realize what's there until it's leaving. The house is a lot quieter now, we no longer climb over and around her trying to get from one room to another, no one barks at trucks or people going by. Dusty is an incredibly quiet dog by herself. We're looking at the HART site to see if we can find her a companion.
It's amazing how fast Baby got sick, though. One morning, she couldn't walk. She tottered, fell down the stairs (six steps, our house is built around six sets of these leading to different levels). She couldn't control her bladder, or poop. Our local vet thought she should be put down, but recommended a specialist. Turned out, she had Myasthenia Gravis, a "rare" thyroid problem that affects different dogs in different ways. I say "rare" because our dog that we had before these two, Kristal, had the same thing before and after many other horrible diseases. Strange as it sounds, this made us hopeful. Kristal had pulled through, maybe Baby could too. That night was really hopeful. When Dr. Bush administered a drug, she could walk. She ran with us across the parking lot to the grassy area, and pooped without falling down. So the hospital kept her for a while, to see if the medicine would work and such. It didn't. Dad and I went back a few days later to see her, and decide whether to put her to sleep. Mom called my cell when she got home from work, and we both cried. I still wonder if we should have brought Dusty to say goodbye. Maybe Baby would have perked up a little, given some hope. It was probably for the best... That was a week after she fell down the stairs.
Baby was a funny dog. Beautiful, stubborn, and sweet. Not all that affectionate, but she'd give you a tongue bath if she felt like it (and regardless of whether you wanted one). She was loud. She was the alto when police sirens were soprano. And she barked at everything. Visible or not, if it crossed in front of the house, or got anywhere near the house, we knew about it. Even at the hospital, we were sitting with her in the back of the van when a FedEx truck pulled up. She raised her head up and barked at it.
I'm going to miss her.
All for now. Later!
JOURNAL: LeahNari (call me Lee-san )
Current server time: Sep 12, 2025 14:34:28