Rice

I stared into the clear liquid in the small tank, my little fish was swimming happily through the wavy kelp and the sand that drifted to the bottom. I walked away to meet my father on the floor below, where his computer room was. I took a little while as a break, and returned to my spot to observe my little creature. It lay on its back floating, the color had disappeared from the tiny floating body.

I poked it with a little stick that I had found earlier, but it still drifted away from me. My mother came into the room with a smile on her face, and held a tray to clean the dining table.

"Hey mom...do you know what happened to my fishy?" I asked feeling sad. She stopped cleaning with a frown, her tray was placed on the dining table as she came towards me.

"I fed it some rice...but after it started to float, I realized that I shouldn't have. Sorry honey...but I killed it." she said with relief of coming clean. I fell to my knees, weak to the bone and laid down facing the ceiling for the many minutes that followed. I decided that I needed to forgive her and forget the incident. I needed to know that I should forgive and forget that incident.

Of Mice and Men

Grey fur touches the strong hands

it lays still as the hand reaches

"I could pet it with my thumb"

the mouse is dead

The soft fur of brown and white

sways through the big fingers

it hides under a pile of hay

it waits for it's owner to throw

"I'll throw him away...

It's bad enough like it is"

The tart lays next to the puppy

the soft hair, now messy and tangled

killed for screaming but an accident

Lennie means no harm

An Ugly Angel

I slowly traced the floor as I walked into the room full of people. Some of my friends gathered around the tables, and I sat in my cold, hard seat.

"I am handing out these poems for you all to find the main idea, and sketch it please." said Mr. Bustos. He passed out the paper with poems printed on them, he passed them onto the table. (One for each person.) "Touched By An Angel" was the name of the poem I got, it punched me in the face.

"Read me...read me." it kept repeating, I red it as my face lit up from the impact. I sketched, I sketched an angel with spiky wings. (Not on purpose by the way.) Mr. Bustos came patroling, and stopped by to compliment my drawing, or that's all that he would do is what I thought.

"It's beautiful! However maybe you can make the wings like this...." he said as he gracefully made curves overlapping the devilish wings. Now the angel was complete (After I had erased the devilish wings I drew), I knew there was something wrong, but soon I realized the something missing was it's natural beauty.

Don't

I must admit, when I'm mean to my brother its not like I do it intentionally. He just bothers me often, and when I bother him back, he makes me laugh and that just keeps me doing it. I do mean things to him, because the way he reacts makes me laugh, its just so silly. Although sometimes I'm mean, I'm also nice to him, for example just today I gave him a push-pop for free. I'm nice to him and he's nice to me.

I walked into the house with both my bags slumping off my back. My brother trailed behind me after another exhausting day at school, and threw his heavy dark blue backpack onto the couch.

"Hi fatso..." he said as he was taking off his stinky socks near the door. I ignored his criticising remark, and just headed upstairs to change. Soon after he followed me and threw himself onto my bed, "Hello fatso...again. You're not doing homework you know."

"What do you want?" I asked him hoping he would leave. He lay still on the bed, and decided that he wanted to bother me. He always bothers me, especially with his loud booming voice like my father's. He wiped some kind of liquid on my arm, and I spun around wiping it back. I was wiping 4 swipes a second, it was probably his saliva. (Disgusting, I know.)

"What the hell?!" he screamed with his funny voice as he rolled over. He ran out of the room just as quickly as he had come in. I laughed with the palm of my hand on my forehead, and my other on my stomach falling to the floor. I can't stop laughing until 2 minutes have passed, at the least. So as you can see, if he complains even once, I burst into laughter. I'm someone who my brother can make laugh anytime. But I'm only nice to him, when he's nice to me. (Like that would ever happen.)

The Truth

The truth will always be revealed.

The people you trust will remain there forever.

"You wouldn't tell nobody?"

In the air floats the words "trust" or "lie"

"No, 'course you wouldn'."

The truth will always be revealed.

Whether you hide it, cover it, or bury it...

The truth will never disappear, but will float.

"He'll be back alright."

We forgive and forget.

We keep and hold.

Not break and throw.

Friends are forever

Family are forever

Lies are a never

Make Me Food!

I lay prostrate on the cushioned couch, and looked up at the bumpy ceiling covered in a thin layer of fine white paint. I felt the desire to do something on a whim, something that I could do to see someone filled with rapture. My brother started his way downstairs trying to show off his haughty personality, as I heard his slippers tap on the tiled stairs.

"Make me food." he demanded, as he said that it was a "privilege" to make him his grub. I knew that even if I could make chow that was delectable, it doesn't mean that I needed to to it. However I thought that he was going to beseech me to make him some, so I made a lavish amount of food for him. I had made all the food while I was in a good mood, but I realized that it was pretty hard to make a lot of feed, so at the end I ended up hating the impetuous choice that I made to actually listen to my brother.

I pondered why I decided to do what he demanded, but at the moment that he said that the food was "Okay." I felt good, that he was gratified by my food. Even though I'm not the best at cooking, I felt proud. I had accomplished something that I thought I could never do...make my brother say that my food was "Okay." which means that it was good. My parents could hear the the sounds of my revelry, though it was only a small accomplishment I still felt proud.

Don't Get Mad

I've always wondered what good comes out of getting mad, whether your parents get mad, or if your friends get mad, and maybe even your own siblings. Parents scold you when they get mad, they ground you, can send you upstairs without dinner, and will cool off. Friends will get mad sometimes too, if you say the wrong thing, if you forget something, but after a fight, you can make-up. If your siblings get mad, you can act like it just never happened. That's how usual fights go, but for me its completely different.

My father called me to his room, to discuss some issue with me. I wondered in, pondering about what he could want me for. "This is about your...behavior...at your relatives' house." said the man with crossed arms. I started to worry, what did I do? What's my punishment? What would happen at the end? I finally gathered up the courage to ask what I did.

"I've heard from some of your relatives that you were being rude, that has started to spread within the family. The time that we went to one of your relatives' house, your mother and I asked you to wait twenty minutes with your brother when you sat on the carpet. You waited quietly, but then blurted out that twenty minutes was over, and that you wanted to leave." I stayed shocked, my arms that I had thrown onto the bed drooped, my eyes stayed as open as long as I could open them for. I didn't believe it, my relative had said that I was rude.

I pictured in my mind a beating fit for him, I pictured the relative being beat up by me. I couldn't think of anything else, except how much anger I had for him. My father told me to calm down and to forget about it, but I knew that I couldn't calm down. I took some deep breaths and calmed down, though I had given up my hope to beat him up-because he's a relative-I had not forgotten what he had said about me. I hope that someday I will get my revenge, but not a violent revenge, at least I hope not a violent revenge. I'd just like to ask him why he spread it, not to actually beat him up. I would like to use my voice, not my fist.

Rejected

I walked into the gym with my friends. We did our class of gymnastics for that period of time for P.E. Shortly after we were allowed to have the rest of the class to ourselves. I looked at the Australian boy and blushed, because, well...he was my crush. I laid down on the mats with my exhausted friends.My best friend looked at me blushing, and whispered in my ear.

"I'll go ask him for you...to the dance." she whispered. I stood up and looked at my other friends for support to stop her, but they all were too tired to stop her. She walked to the bleacher with all the boys of the class, and just had to ask when everyone was there. I laid back on the mat and covered my eyes, my friends came over to comfort me. I felt a jolt of pain, would he say yes? Would he reject me?

By the time I lifted my arms from my eyes, I battled with the bright lights in the gym. She came to me and sat down, she was prepared to tell me some news, though I had no idea what she was going to say.

"He said...he wasn't going to go. All his friends laughed when I asked for you...I'm sorry." she said. I told her not to worry, truthfully, I expected as much, I knew that nobody would ever say yes. I knew from the beginning that I was going to regret even liking him. Luckily we continued to be friends...well kind of. I couldn't help but think that we couldn't ever be friends again. Have you felt the pain? Have you ever experienced this kind of punishment? I definitely have, and I don't want to experience it again. If I don't ask anyone, I can't get rejected, at least not again.

A New Computer?

I slowly walked towards the sound of tapping keyboards and a clicking mouse. I swayed as I pass through the hall, my hands shivered, my dad had just called my name. It was loud and clear as it echoed through the halls of the house. On his computer screens were pictures of an HP desktop, that he was planning to get me.

"Is it touch-screen?"I asked.

"Yes"

"How big is it?"

"Pretty big"

"What's it gonna count for?"

"Christmas, New Years, must I say more?"

"Never mind, how much is it?

"$1700"

"OH MY GOD!" as I yelled in shock. I jumped and stomped on the ground. "No way, no way, this is a dream, it's too good to be true!" I thought as I held my hands together to stop from slapping myself. It was real, it was the real world, and this was the real deal. I felt a feeling of rapture take over me, I screamed and yelped with joy. I finished the conversation with my father and headed back to my room. I laid down on my soft bed turning on the bedside lamp, I pondered, thinking if this was the right choice. My father was saving money for a house and I knew that, should he really use his money to keep me happy?

I was beseeching myself to speak the truth, he was going to order it by the time the sun went down and the stars came out. If I didn't speak the truth, could I hold it in forever? Could I be able to live with it? Would it be too late? I thought hard, and finally reached a wall, and on that wall...was the answer. Yes, I wanted it, I wanted it very badly, but would it be right to accept it when I knew my father was saving money for a house? I thought, and thought, it wouldn't be fair for him, but would be fair for me. I decided to make a deal with my father, I would get the desktop, but in return he could use the money I had in my bank to buy his house. However he would pay me back, and of course...with interest.

A Trip to Costco

I ran screaming "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" to my father while he browsed through rows of inventory. He turned his head at my direction as i ran to him to show him something.

"I want this. Can I have it?" I asked very politely. He was shaking his head with a frown as I asked him, he had said no. I wondered why as I put the blue card back, or so I had wanted everyone to think. I peeked around to see if anyone was watching, I pulled a rectangle shaped wallet. Slowly I hid the blue card in one of the pockets of the wallet, sneakily turning around often. My father turned around and looked for me, I waved my hand in the air so that he would see me. He came with the orange cart-that looked like it had holes in it-full of items. He held my hand as we walked to the cashier. They scanned the items rhythmically as i followed with my head.

I followed the items as the cashier beeped all of them, she had reach the end of the conveyor belt. My father pulled out his own wallet and packed up the items. We arrived at home, I sighed of relief that we would never be able to make it out. Gradually I started to feel guilty, and soon showed my family what I had stole.

"Oh honey, you can't even use that." Said my father. I tilted my head to the right a bit, and wondered what he meant.

"You have to activate that at the cashier." He said laughing. I had thought that I could use it like a credit card or something. But I realized that I just stole something, and I learned my lesson. Also at the end, I ended up throwing it away, it was of no use to me after I learned I had to activate it.