Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
A place for Writing 12 students to read each other's writing, to critique, to suggest, to improve.
About Me
- Brad
- Former adult teacher who loves island beaches. Happy homebody and family man; once devoted dog owner, now without Tashi, my Tibetan Terrier. I prefer the absurdity of the imagination to the absurdity of imagining nothing.
LInks
Blog Archive
-
▼
2009
(73)
-
▼
May
(12)
- Things I Learned in Writing 12 (short essay)
- An Exercise in "Memory" (with eyes closed)
- What did You Collect?
- Help! I Need Somebody (Pieces for Comment)
- Why Don't You Forget?
- Imitating a Great Writer
- Hongxin's Piece, "Visiting Laoshan Mountain" Edited
- Something that Happened
- Makassia's Story, "Sunrise in Jala" Edited
- Fibonacci Poem
- Punctuation Practice (A Long Sentence)
- A Piece to Publish
-
▼
May
(12)
8 comments:
Looking into her eyes it felt like time had slowed to a halt. She stared back at me in silence as if contemplating something unknown to me. I took a step closer--was this okay? Maybe I was out stepping my bounds. All I could feel was the breeze of warm air flowing over me. It was peaceful; calm even. She perched her lips to the side and smiled slightly. Maybe if was okay being this close? I took another step forward as a gust of wind blew towards us--the scent of her perfume permeated towards me. It smelt of lavender (Oh how I love lavender) and strawberries. My face was now so close to hers I could hear the sound of her breathe. She placed her hands on my waist softly (could this be happening?) and giggled to herself. I glanced at her in confusion at what could possibly be so funny.
"Why are you being so awkward about this? Kiss me."
Before I could reply to her question I had grabbed her chin and pulled her lips to mine. She moved her lips slowly with mine while continuing to hold my waist. Slowly she removed one of her hands and moved up my back to touch my hair--the sensation was unbearable. Her lips were soft and warm against mine.
"Much better, isn't it?" she said after pulling her lips from mine.
I nodded before I pulled her chin back towards me. My heart was pounding so quickly, I thought it was going to burst from my chest. The sun continued to engulf us--a sheet of warmth for this special moment. Only the sound of waves accompanied us on this empty beach. Exactly how I liked it.
A Picnic in Al- Archa
The mountainside (Al- Archa Mountains in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan) was green; green everywhere as if it had a gardener to take care of. No traffic noise, just birds signing. There were variety of trees, big rocks, and small lakes everywhere. Although, the weather was hot in the city, there was a cold breeze here.
We camped just beside a small lake under a big willow tree with its thin brunches touching the ground. With the breeze the brunches would start dancing and whispering similar to the sound of a snake- hissss…. The bright water in the lake ran calmly, making a soft sound. You could see the different shaped stones and some small rocks under it.
My sister put the drinks and watermelon on the edge of the lake in the cold water, “We need to put several rocks around them to secure,” she said to me, “I don’t want the water to take my drinks away.”
My mother, sitting under the willow tree, started piling marinated meat pieces and vegetables for the “Sikh- kebab”; my father started fire on a barbeque a little distance away.
Further away, the horseman was standing beside his horses for rent and was looking at them proudly while talking to my brother (since it was very quiet around, we could hear them talking).
“I would suggest the white horse, you’ll remember the ride forever!”
Hands on his waist, my brother looked the horses up and down, “Ok, I am taking that tree,” he pointed towards the white and two brown horses, “let’s see if you were right.”
“You’ll see!”
We went for an exciting ride.
275 words
A Piece of Memory
A summer day when I was in Grade 6, I walked to my school as usual. A burning smell drifted into my nose, somehow like stinky carbonados. I kept walking. The street was in a strange atmosphere: most shops beside the road were closed; a few catchlines hung on the windows, there were very few pedestrians that I could hardly believe this was Beijing; several crows barked on the trees. At a intersection about a hundred yards in front of my school, just below the footbridge, some thing were burning, many pieces, dark and could be hardly figure out what there were except one piece which might be lit up later—therefore I could see the shape of it—a human being—quite vague but still maintained the human body shape. The smoke came out from those pieces, and ashes were blew everywhere. Some people passed with their noses covered by hands. Some young guys with the red strips tied on their heads were still stoning the ashes and cursed the dead people.
A teacher of mine happened to see me stunned there and she dragged me away. I saw the tears in her eyes and asked what was it? She kept silent for a while and told me there were soldiers – the PLA soldiers who came to Beijing to settle the chaos. Some of them were pulled off from the trucks by those mobs and burned alive.
It was few days before June 4th,1989.
I used to support the students when the movement started, for many schools including mine were closed and they said if the situation last, our entrance exams to middle schools might be cancelled. Finally when the whole Beijing city fell into a complete chaos and I couldn’t even find a bus on street, I lost my answer.
After the Night of Tian An Men Square, I attended the funeral of those soldiers. There were six of them, at the same ages like those students. The only difference was –they were from pool families and never had a chance to become a college student like them.
349 words
Some Things Just Sticks In Your Mind
“Run!” Some of my classmates shouted, while we were in the middle of our Mathematics class.
“No one will leave the room!” Our teacher yelled. “Hide under the tables!”
The whole room or perhaps the whole school was in total chaos. Tons of people were screaming as if it was the end of the world, (doors were slamming, people were running towards every direction, broken glasses were shattered,) scared voices of the students, teachers and everyone inside the building echoed at the hallways of the building.
Immediately--without waiting for the instruction from my teacher or from anyone--I ducked under the nearest table as soon as I felt the building’s sudden movement and literally saw the floor waved like water.
(We’ve had fire and earthquake drill before, and I am glad I was present that day.) I look around me, the walls had no cracks, the ceiling was still up, the floor--Oh, I would never forget that wavy floor-- also looked fine.
“Our Father who art in heaven. . . ,“ some of my classmates prayed. “Mama! Papa! Get me out of here!” Some of them screamed. Some of them hid calmly under the table and watched their tears fell on the tiled floor, while me and my best friend, Nica, joined the prayer, “Hail Mary full of grace the Lord is with you . . .” Things like this somehow makes us believe in God--don’t they?
In a few second, the earthquake came into a halt (the building remained standing--we are alive!) and my teacher got out from her table and called out to everyone and lead us out of the building. It was very pleasant to see that everyone was fine, no casualties, no wounded people, just some sore throats, red and baggy eyes, and an unbelievably scary moment that everyone us would treasure and never forget for the rest of our lives.
It was a hot summer day. I was at the beach with my mom. I swam in the river as she did the hand-laundry. The day was peaceful—at least at that moment. The water was cool. The sound of the waves was relaxing. The sun glisten over the rive and from afar, I could see the wide river glowing like a aluminum foil, shiny and silvery.
I didn’t want to leave, especially when my uncle led me in the middle of the river (he was a good swimmer) and held my hands as I giggle and swam.
Then suddenly sad feeling surged in me. I felt horrified. I wondered what the result would be, but came up with nothing. Half an hour later, I saw my other uncle—who I didn’t expect—rushing toward us, his voice so urgent I knew it wasn’t a call for lunch. My mom left the clothes in the bucket and followed, me way behind because I couldn’t catch up with them.
The house was crowded and noisy. People were weeping. Some, crying out loud. What’s going on, I wondered. Then I scanned the crowd and didn’t see one person, my father.
I took off to where he usually sat and found it empty. His room, also empty. He was dead and in my brother room, where they grabbed and prevented me from entering. I loved summer day, but I don’t like to spend at a beach. Never.
I will never forget my grandmother’s house. On Sunny Sunday twenty eight days ago, my mom took me to visit grandmother (actually I was there lots of times as a little baby, but I had not memory it), I remembered the red windows besides my grandmother’s door, I was only four but I am so glad I can figured out all the route and exact door of her place, I was about fifteen minutes walk for an adult, but I can’t remember how long its took me to walk there as a four year old. It was those night again, my father again went to the night university since he didn’t get the chance to go university during the culture revolution, my mother, I didn’t know why on earth she had to work at night. I felt so desperate, and I remembered my grandmother’s place and decided to walk there. I eventually made through all the turns and twists of the allies and big main roads, I was so happy to stay with my grandmother, but my mom eventually discovered and escorted me home despite my tears.
I remembered I was staying very late at my grandmother’s house one time, and she walked me back home. That was a chilly winter night. I can still remember the fragrance of phoenix trees, and how I tucked my freezing hands underneath her elbow, I can still feel the warmth of her heart beat and rhythmic footsteps on the quiet street; her breath soon became a misty smoke that was reflected under the dim street lights.
I developed the habit to visit my grandmother’s house, even the last week before her death, I went to visit her and she told me to stay for dinner next week, she was gone the next week. I still go there when she wasn’t there. It took me a long time to adjust even I was only seven years old.
Before I went over there, I daily wished to visit the Golden Temple. It was morning time. We were in the Golden Temple. It was a surprise for me.
When I entered the temple through the stairs, I was shocked. I couldn’t believe I was in the golden temple. It was a big crowd over there. The people were standing in the line to worship to the guru Garanth sahib (holy book). The orange sun was rising behind the cupola of the temple. The dark sky was changed into peach. Birds were chirping on the trees. Amrit Srover (fake lake) was touched by the cool wind into million ripples. Golden Temple reflected in water, and silver water changed in to golden. A wonderful sight touched my heart, and I never forgotten.
I heard people were singing “satnam waheguru.” They covered their heads, bare feet, and placed their hand together. I was feeling I came to a warm heaven. I couldn’t hold myself; I started to cry. My husband held my hand, and we started walking. The aroma of chick curry made me realize we were going to Langar Hall (big lunch room).
Post a Comment