It is a quiet night, thought the store clerk. I have only had two customers since midnight. I should take advantage of the peacefulness and do so much needed cleaning. He then started to clean the cigarette case behind the counter. He removed the cigarette cartons from the racks and wiped the dust from the shelving. He became so engrossed with his cleaning that he did not realize that a customer had entered the store until he heard a rattling noise behind him. Cling! Clang!
The clerk quickly turned around and nodded at the adolescent customer. He was wearing a black leather jacket and faded jeans. In his back pocket, the clerk noticed the source of the rattling sound. The teen had a chain hanging from his leather wallet. The clerk greeted the young boy. “Hello, how are you this early morning?” asked the clerk.
The teen glared at the clerk and coolly disregarded the salutation. He then shuffled down the snack aisle. The store clerk recognized the customer as one of the troublemakers who regularly came in during the daytime hours with another group of punks. These boys were hoodlums. They were loud, disrespectful, and crude. They antagonized his customers with their rowdy behavior. They enjoyed running in the store and bumping into the customers. They would purposely overfill their cups and spill their drinks. They threw ice at one another. Yet, even worse, they were also thieves. Merchandise always seemed to disappear when these thugs entered the store, but the clerk could never prove it. The police were little help, because they told him that he needed proof. The clerk could only bite his lip and simmer.
“Can I help you find anything?” asked the clerk.
The young punk ignored the remark. The clerk continued to watch the boy closely as he strolled up and down the store aisles aimlessly. He is up to no good, thought the clerk. The teen then started heading for the exit.
“Thank you for your patronage, and please come again,” said the clerk.
Then it happened, the thug extended his right middle finger at the clerk. Along with the obscene gesture, he made a hateful face. The store clerk became angry! How disrespectful!, he thought. Someone needs to teach this hood a lesson! Suddenly, the clerk bolted from behind the counter.
The brash teen had already stepped out of the door and was slowly strolling on the walkway in front of the store. The clerk never thought about what he was going to do, he simply reacted. He was tired of these punks! He simply allowed his instincts to take over. He ran up behind the boy and firmly grasped his neck. He pinched the nerves in the neck so hard that he stopped the boy dead in his tracks. The thug was astonished! He couldn’t move! The clerk didn’t worry about onlookers. People simply didn’t walk around in this part of town after midnight. If any customers drove up he simply would explain the circumstances. They would understand.
The clerk tightly squeezed the gangster’s neck with his right hand. His left hand held the hood’s left arm. The young boy was alarmed. In his misdirected mind he had never expected this type of response from a lowly store clerk. He couldn’t move, the clerk’s hands were strong and he was paralyzed on the spot.
Calmly, the store clerk asked the boy, “Have I ever mistreated you in any shape or fashion?”
The frightened boy meekly replied, “No.”
“Then why did you flip me off?” asked the clerk. The boy had no answer, he simply gasped.
“Someone needs to teach you a lesson,” said the clerk. The boy was terrified, but then the clerk’s voice softened.
He whispered to the boy, “This is your lucky day, but that will not always be the case. If you do not change your ways, one day your stupidity will cost you your life.”
The store clerk told the boy to remember these words and to learn from this incident. He then told him that he was going to let him go, but that he better not try anything foolish or else he would rip his arm off and beat him with it! The frightened boy fled when the clerk let him go. As he watched the teenager run away, the clerk chuckled and thought to himself, The boy might actually make it to adulthood.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Saturday, July 19, 2008
A Strange Day in July by Jessica Brown
I have seen a lot of things in my life, but nothing like this! But first, let me tell you how I got here.
I followed the Oldsmobile from Irving to Nacogdoches. I have never flown so hard in my life! I think that old woman needs to learn how to drive. My poor wings were so sore after that trip! When the car pulled into the driveway of the summer retreat house, Sally and Mark enthusiastically jumped out of the sedan and ran to the shore of the lake. Mark always loved to show off his swimming in the cool water, and Sally loved to splash in the shallow area. The two stood at the edge of the water. I heard them agree that they would persuade their chaperone to allow them to come back later in the night to swim. I decided to make my home on a branch of a tall pine tree. This tree was perfect for me to watch them. Those kids were going to have fun, but I knew this high level of fascination could only lead to trouble.
After a scrumptious meal, the three individuals went to the shore of the lake, and Grandmother Nichols began to read a romance novel while sitting on a picnic blanket. She was not paying any attention to her young grandchildren as they played. While Grandmother was involved in the plot of her novel, Sally and Mark walked along the shore before jumping in the dark, mysterious lake. I overheard Sally ask Mark to throw three pebbles into the water, one at a time. She wanted him to make a wish each time he launched a stone into the lake. I was intrigued by the boy’s first wish. He threw the rock into the water and said, “I wish for a Golden Retriever puppy.” Immediately after the rock penetrated the surface, he made another wish and threw the next stone. He wished, “I want a new skateboard.” Sally laughed and dared him to make his final wish. Mark exclaimed, “I wish for another week here at Grandmother’s cabin!”
I was shocked when I saw the rock fly through the air, penetrate the surface of the water, and come back at him forcefully, knocking him to the ground. The little kids wailed and ran to the adult. Their cries alarmed Grandmother Nichols, and the three immediately went into the cabin. I followed them to the house but sat on the perch near the dining room window. I could see the elderly person comforting the two little ones. Grandmother looked worried. Mark had a massive bruise on his forehead, and it was starting to swell.
That night, the three family members packed their bags, and Grandmother Nichols immediately called her son and daughter-in-law. She informed them of this odd occurrence, and that they could expect them back into town tomorrow. I was sad to see the family leave, but I am glad that they departed. A week after the Nichols family left, a tornado ripped through the town of Nacogdoches. This horrific natural disaster destroyed the cabin and shredded the wooded environment that Sally and Mark adored.
This story was inspired by The Mysteries of Harris Burdick by Chris Van Allsburg.
I followed the Oldsmobile from Irving to Nacogdoches. I have never flown so hard in my life! I think that old woman needs to learn how to drive. My poor wings were so sore after that trip! When the car pulled into the driveway of the summer retreat house, Sally and Mark enthusiastically jumped out of the sedan and ran to the shore of the lake. Mark always loved to show off his swimming in the cool water, and Sally loved to splash in the shallow area. The two stood at the edge of the water. I heard them agree that they would persuade their chaperone to allow them to come back later in the night to swim. I decided to make my home on a branch of a tall pine tree. This tree was perfect for me to watch them. Those kids were going to have fun, but I knew this high level of fascination could only lead to trouble.
After a scrumptious meal, the three individuals went to the shore of the lake, and Grandmother Nichols began to read a romance novel while sitting on a picnic blanket. She was not paying any attention to her young grandchildren as they played. While Grandmother was involved in the plot of her novel, Sally and Mark walked along the shore before jumping in the dark, mysterious lake. I overheard Sally ask Mark to throw three pebbles into the water, one at a time. She wanted him to make a wish each time he launched a stone into the lake. I was intrigued by the boy’s first wish. He threw the rock into the water and said, “I wish for a Golden Retriever puppy.” Immediately after the rock penetrated the surface, he made another wish and threw the next stone. He wished, “I want a new skateboard.” Sally laughed and dared him to make his final wish. Mark exclaimed, “I wish for another week here at Grandmother’s cabin!”
I was shocked when I saw the rock fly through the air, penetrate the surface of the water, and come back at him forcefully, knocking him to the ground. The little kids wailed and ran to the adult. Their cries alarmed Grandmother Nichols, and the three immediately went into the cabin. I followed them to the house but sat on the perch near the dining room window. I could see the elderly person comforting the two little ones. Grandmother looked worried. Mark had a massive bruise on his forehead, and it was starting to swell.
That night, the three family members packed their bags, and Grandmother Nichols immediately called her son and daughter-in-law. She informed them of this odd occurrence, and that they could expect them back into town tomorrow. I was sad to see the family leave, but I am glad that they departed. A week after the Nichols family left, a tornado ripped through the town of Nacogdoches. This horrific natural disaster destroyed the cabin and shredded the wooded environment that Sally and Mark adored.
This story was inspired by The Mysteries of Harris Burdick by Chris Van Allsburg.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Dreaming & Dancing by Brittany Morgan
I would give anything to be out there, she thought, gazing out at the right corner of the field. Although the chaos of football, cheering crowds, and band music demanded her attention, she frequently found herself studying the synchronized dance steps that were taking place to the right of her. It was that very moment, early into her freshman year, that she recognized her dream of dancing for the university’s dance team. Nothing could have prepared her for how quickly the leaves would turn…
On an April morning, she walked into the gymnasium where dance try-outs were being held and found a deserted corner where she could sit and stretch. As she challenged her muscles, her eyes wandered. Suddenly, she was very aware of her competition. The longer she watched others, the more she questioned her abilities. She sat, unconsciously biting the dry skin on her lip, unaware that she was no longer stretching. She appeared to be in a trance of disappointment.
Calmly, she rose to her feet and walked out of the double doors leading to freedom. Paranoid that others were watching her and snickering, she thought, for all they know, I’m leaving to go to the restroom. As the doors slammed behind her, she dropped her head in shame. The lump in her throat grew urgent yet she refused to let tears fall from her eyes. The past six months have encompassed endless hours of practice, sweat, frustration, and feelings of pride and accomplishment, she thought. Were they all for nothing? An overwhelming sense of failure momentarily took her breath away. Yearning for shelter, she put one foot in front of the other and headed for home. As she stepped over the curb to cross the street, she twisted her ankle and went plunging face first towards the concrete.
Just as her nose was about to slam into the hot tar, she jolted awake to find herself laying in the comfort of her own bed. Her body felt warm and sticky, and she was tangled in a knot of blankets. She unwrapped herself from the mess of covers and rested her head back on her pillow. She had a bad feeling, as if she’d had an unpleasant dream. However, she could not quite remember what it had entailed. Turning her head to the right, she was shocked to see the digital clock read 1:04 A.M. in electric blue numbers. She was sure that it was almost time to get up for the day. She rolled over in bed to reclaim a comfortable position and drifted off to sleep.
6:30 A.M. came quickly, and unlike ordinary mornings, her finger did not meet the snooze button. She shut off her alarm and sat up in bed. She had to be at the gymnasium at 8:00 sharp for check-in, so there was no time to waste. It was 7:42 when she threw a bottle of water into her backpack and headed out the door. She was prepared. She had eaten a healthy breakfast. She had gotten at least eight and a half hours of sleep. Her white polo shirt was freshly ironed and matched perfectly with her black and white athletic wind shorts. She had even allowed herself 20 minutes to practice her dance steps. Yet, something was wrong. As she walked down the sidewalk towards the gym, she tried to shake the uneasy feelings that consumed her. As of the night before, she felt good about try-outs and held her head with confidence. Get a hold of yourself, she thought, everything will be just fine. If she wouldn’t have been so caught up in talking herself out of a panic, maybe she would have seen the curb of the street coming.
On an April morning, she walked into the gymnasium where dance try-outs were being held and found a deserted corner where she could sit and stretch. As she challenged her muscles, her eyes wandered. Suddenly, she was very aware of her competition. The longer she watched others, the more she questioned her abilities. She sat, unconsciously biting the dry skin on her lip, unaware that she was no longer stretching. She appeared to be in a trance of disappointment.
Calmly, she rose to her feet and walked out of the double doors leading to freedom. Paranoid that others were watching her and snickering, she thought, for all they know, I’m leaving to go to the restroom. As the doors slammed behind her, she dropped her head in shame. The lump in her throat grew urgent yet she refused to let tears fall from her eyes. The past six months have encompassed endless hours of practice, sweat, frustration, and feelings of pride and accomplishment, she thought. Were they all for nothing? An overwhelming sense of failure momentarily took her breath away. Yearning for shelter, she put one foot in front of the other and headed for home. As she stepped over the curb to cross the street, she twisted her ankle and went plunging face first towards the concrete.
Just as her nose was about to slam into the hot tar, she jolted awake to find herself laying in the comfort of her own bed. Her body felt warm and sticky, and she was tangled in a knot of blankets. She unwrapped herself from the mess of covers and rested her head back on her pillow. She had a bad feeling, as if she’d had an unpleasant dream. However, she could not quite remember what it had entailed. Turning her head to the right, she was shocked to see the digital clock read 1:04 A.M. in electric blue numbers. She was sure that it was almost time to get up for the day. She rolled over in bed to reclaim a comfortable position and drifted off to sleep.
6:30 A.M. came quickly, and unlike ordinary mornings, her finger did not meet the snooze button. She shut off her alarm and sat up in bed. She had to be at the gymnasium at 8:00 sharp for check-in, so there was no time to waste. It was 7:42 when she threw a bottle of water into her backpack and headed out the door. She was prepared. She had eaten a healthy breakfast. She had gotten at least eight and a half hours of sleep. Her white polo shirt was freshly ironed and matched perfectly with her black and white athletic wind shorts. She had even allowed herself 20 minutes to practice her dance steps. Yet, something was wrong. As she walked down the sidewalk towards the gym, she tried to shake the uneasy feelings that consumed her. As of the night before, she felt good about try-outs and held her head with confidence. Get a hold of yourself, she thought, everything will be just fine. If she wouldn’t have been so caught up in talking herself out of a panic, maybe she would have seen the curb of the street coming.
Forgive Me Father by Alina Tarango
Ashamed. That’s how I was feeling as I sat on the cold, hard, mat in my jail cell. I just couldn’t believe it! What was I thinking? All I wanted was to have amazing, new things like all my friends had. Jewelry, make-up, clothes, purses, shoes. My friends and all the girls at school seemed to have it all, well, besides me. Girls at my school walked around wearing the latest fads, while I went around in hand-me-downs. I even worked a part time job to make extra money, while my friends went to the movies and went shopping. It just didn’t make sense! Most of the kids at my school lived in the same neighborhood, and our parents worked at similar jobs. How were all my friends getting incredible things, while I had to work hard for everything I had? Well in the end, all I got was a concrete bed, a roll of toilet paper to lay my head on, and a mark on my permanent record. Was it worth it?
As I sat in my jail cell, I thought about what had gone wrong, and how terribly disappointed my parents would be with me. I replayed the past four hours in my head, wondering why I felt the need to have everything my friends had. I had spent one of my few days off from work wandering around the mall looking for an outfit for my date that I was supposed to be on right this minute. I wasn’t having any luck until I came to the last store and saw it! There it was -the perfect outfit! Everything about it was just right: the perfect shade of blue, it was the style that was in right now, and it fit perfectly! As I walked up to the check out counter, I glanced at the tag to look at the price, and my heart sank: $137.00. The red numbers looking up at me almost made me cry. There was no way I could afford to buy something like this. As I stood there losing all hope, some of my friends from school walked in. They started grabbing shoes and shirts, strolling off back into the dressing rooms. One of my friends passed by me and said, “Wow, what’s up with you? You look as if your life is about to end!” I told her about the amazing date I was supposed to be going on tonight and how I had found the perfect outfit, but that there was no way I could afford it. She looked at me as if I was crazy and said, “So what? Just take it.”
“Just take it?” I said. “What do you mean?”
She dragged me toward the back where the dressing rooms were located and started telling all the other girls about how I was worrying about the silly little dress I was holding in my hands.
The other girls laughed and said, “Where have you been? All you have to do is put it on under your other clothes, or stuff it in your bag, and walk right on out of the store.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Were they being serious? I could never do something like that. What was wrong with them?
As I sat there watching my friends trying on different outfits and watching those outfits disappear into who knows where, I just couldn’t resist. The temptation was there, the dress was calling out to me, and I already knew what I was about to do. As I went into the dressing room and put on the dress and then put my own clothes on over it, I could feel the sweat start to trickle down my neck. Was I really about to do this? All I had to do was walk right on out; through the racks of clothes, through the doors, past the food court, and out the front doors of the mall.Easy - right? I started walking towards the door, trying to look as innocent as possible. Almost there -Yes! I made it, I’m out, and I did it!
“Excuse me, Ma’am,” was the next thing I heard. I looked up eyeing the sales lady as she asked me to come back in the store with her. Well that was it. I watched my friends walk out of the store in a hurry while the cop put the tight handcuffs on me. How humiliating.
So here I sit, thinking about what a fool I am for doing something as silly as stealing a stupid dress for a stupid date. After sitting on my hard mat for a couple of hours, I didn’t even care anymore about the humiliation or the mark on my permanent record. What hurt me the most was looking at my father’s face through the bars of the jail cell and seeing the deep, sadness in his eyes as he looked back at me and shook his head.
As I sat in my jail cell, I thought about what had gone wrong, and how terribly disappointed my parents would be with me. I replayed the past four hours in my head, wondering why I felt the need to have everything my friends had. I had spent one of my few days off from work wandering around the mall looking for an outfit for my date that I was supposed to be on right this minute. I wasn’t having any luck until I came to the last store and saw it! There it was -the perfect outfit! Everything about it was just right: the perfect shade of blue, it was the style that was in right now, and it fit perfectly! As I walked up to the check out counter, I glanced at the tag to look at the price, and my heart sank: $137.00. The red numbers looking up at me almost made me cry. There was no way I could afford to buy something like this. As I stood there losing all hope, some of my friends from school walked in. They started grabbing shoes and shirts, strolling off back into the dressing rooms. One of my friends passed by me and said, “Wow, what’s up with you? You look as if your life is about to end!” I told her about the amazing date I was supposed to be going on tonight and how I had found the perfect outfit, but that there was no way I could afford it. She looked at me as if I was crazy and said, “So what? Just take it.”
“Just take it?” I said. “What do you mean?”
She dragged me toward the back where the dressing rooms were located and started telling all the other girls about how I was worrying about the silly little dress I was holding in my hands.
The other girls laughed and said, “Where have you been? All you have to do is put it on under your other clothes, or stuff it in your bag, and walk right on out of the store.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Were they being serious? I could never do something like that. What was wrong with them?
As I sat there watching my friends trying on different outfits and watching those outfits disappear into who knows where, I just couldn’t resist. The temptation was there, the dress was calling out to me, and I already knew what I was about to do. As I went into the dressing room and put on the dress and then put my own clothes on over it, I could feel the sweat start to trickle down my neck. Was I really about to do this? All I had to do was walk right on out; through the racks of clothes, through the doors, past the food court, and out the front doors of the mall.Easy - right? I started walking towards the door, trying to look as innocent as possible. Almost there -Yes! I made it, I’m out, and I did it!
“Excuse me, Ma’am,” was the next thing I heard. I looked up eyeing the sales lady as she asked me to come back in the store with her. Well that was it. I watched my friends walk out of the store in a hurry while the cop put the tight handcuffs on me. How humiliating.
So here I sit, thinking about what a fool I am for doing something as silly as stealing a stupid dress for a stupid date. After sitting on my hard mat for a couple of hours, I didn’t even care anymore about the humiliation or the mark on my permanent record. What hurt me the most was looking at my father’s face through the bars of the jail cell and seeing the deep, sadness in his eyes as he looked back at me and shook his head.
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