200 Word Sentence

The thought of summer makes everyone around us more happy, no school, warm weather, we finally get to relax, enjoy ourselves while sitting on the hot sand listening to the waves crash on the shore eating the lunch you packed, with your music blasting through your headphones; no more dreadful mornings waking up at 6 o’clock to see a group of people that we don’t necessarily care about, we don’t have to worry about looking presentable, being nice to people even if we are in a bad mood, or worrying about if you studied hard enough for the test you have that day, its finally our time to make it this best time of our lives, we get to go to all the concerts we want, go to parties, read books, go on vacations; we meet new people, people that will be in our lives for a long time; we don’t hold back anything, we just live in the moment;  we enjoy every moment because soon it will be over and the dreaded 6 o’clock alarm clock wakes us while in our deepest sleep once again, but soon it will be summer again and we are able to enjoy ourselves once again.

Dear John and Stacey, 

     I'm writing this letter to you guys, my lovely parents to inform you of the many things that you guys do that really gets on my nerves. Many times during the day I hear my named being called repeatedly "Kate! Katie! Kaitlin!" Everyone knows I don't respond to the name Kaitlin, so I don’t know what makes you guys think I would respond to it when you say it. When I'm in my room I don't like to be talked to or frankly wanted by anyone else. My door is shut for a reason. I like to be secluded from the outside world and hearing my name being called out of your mouth with an angry tone is not going to make me any happier. In all honesty I don’t even want to listen. Why can’t you walk up to my room and ask me? Why do you have to yell from the opposite side of the house? I just don’t get it.

     "Come take the dog out!" I'm more then positive that when we got our dog 6 months ago I stated I wanted nothing to do with him, so I'm confused as to why I'm being yelled at to take him out. Don't get me wrong I love the dog and he's very cute, but I'm not really an outdoors type of person. Going outside in the negative degree weather just so the dog can pee isn't really my cup of tea. 

     "Clean your room!" I'm also a very neat person. Living in dirt is not my thing, but when I suddenly have a singular sock on the floor all hell breaks loose and I’m yelled at. So in response to this I casually pick up the sock and put it into the laundry basket, but clearly that's not good enough and I'm forced to clean my entire room and the upstairs. P.S pretty positive I’m the only child forced to clean the upstairs. I have not witnessed any other child actually vacuum in my life. I really don't understand this because it’s not like I completely messed up my whole entire room or the upstairs by having a sock on the ground. It was a sock, just a sock. 

     "Set the table!" I understand this, but I’m not the only child that lives in this house. This confuses me because how come no one else is told to set the table? Are you trying to tell me that I’m the least favorite child, or something?  I’m more than positive I am the only to ever set the table. No one else, no one, just me. Once again the only child that actually does something!

      The worst of all “Change your attitude!” This really makes me angry. I probably didn’t have an attitude before we started the conversation, so clearly you did something to anger me. Why am I told to change my attitude when you guys give me attitude 99.8% of the time? I’m not deliberately trying to give you attitude. I know you guys are supposed to have the “last word”, but sometimes you’re just wrong, so I have to correct you.

      Don’t think I’m trying to tell you guys you’re bad parents because you’re not. You guys are great parents, you may even be the best in the business, but sometimes you can just get on every single one of my nerves. There are many more things that you guys do that angers me, but for the sake of this letter I wanted to keep it short and simple. Keep this letter in consideration.

Your favorite child,

Katie 

Apostrophe

    It’s been hard after hearing the news about my grandfather’s passing. I use to tell him everything, even if I knew he wouldn’t want to hear and now I feel like I can’t do that anymore. He always managed to make me feel better. I was having a bad day, and needed someone to talk to. I sat in my room and said “Oh grandpa I wish you were still here. I have so much to tell you. It’s been so hard without you these past days. I want my best friend back.” I continued to tell him about my terrible day for hours. Soon after the dark, gloomy, and sad atmosphere surrounding me changed. It wasn’t sad anymore, in fact rather happy. I felt better. He will always be there not physically, but spiritually. I still have my best friend.

Metonymy

     It’s that time of year again.  Pastel colors, jelly beans, Cadbury eggs, warmer weather, and so forth. Kids wake up more excited than ever. They walk around their house finding the treats the Easter bunny left them. They play with all of the gifts they’ve received until their mother tells them it’s time to get ready. The girl always puts on a nice dress and the boy puts on khakis and a sweater. You all file into the car and head to grandma’s house. You crowd around a huge table, tell stories, smile, laugh, and just enjoy the presence of everyone. It starts to get late so you head home and get to bed.

You Don’t Listen To Anyone

     I couldn’t help it. He hurt me. He made me do it. He deserved it. I don’t feel anything but happiness and gratitude. He’s finally gone. I don’t have to listen to his orders anymore. I feel like a free person. Not a bone in my body is filled with guilt. I’m proud, proud of myself.  I finally got the last word.

      His name is Justin Kurt. I hated him. He was a cruel human being. He deserved to rot in hell. He always told me what to do. Who does he think he is bossing me around all the time? Always giving me orders as if he runs things. “Clean the tables. Fill up the customers drinks. Get them their food” he would always say. I don’t take orders from anyone. I’m only here for the money.  I don’t come here for the joy of other people or the snobby customers. One quality about me is I do not take orders from anyone. Never have, never will. I do my own thing; I don’t hide in the shadows of other people, listening to them telling me what to do. Being bossed around by people is like nails on a chalkboard to me. I boycott the idea of people barking at me. So do I listen? No.

     I was having a bad day, but looked forward to picking up my paycheck at his house. I rang his doorbell. He opened it. Handed me my paycheck and said “Tina, this will be your last paycheck. I’m sorry, you have been fired. You don’t listen to what anyone says and that’s a problem. I wish you the best of luck. Goodbye”.  After this statement all my hatred for him began to boil. I was furious, mad, and so many other emotions. I wanted him to never see the light of day again. You don’t listen to anyone. You don’t listen to anyone. It kept replaying in my head. I was filled with utter hatred for this man. No one ever appreciates me and the work I do for them. So why would I be kind?

     I knocked on the door and he responded with:

“Go away Tina, I’m not reconsidering my decision.”

 “Please I just have to tell you something.” I said.

 He opened the door and I punched him right in the nose. I heard a pop and he started to bleed everywhere.

“What is wrong with you?” he screamed.  

“Oh don’t you worry, this is just the start to a new beginning.” I chuckled.

Next, I kicked him right in the gut, knocking him down to the floor with him screaming in agony. I couldn’t help, but smile. I was just getting started. It was like a new person took over my body. I couldn’t control my actions. This is the type of person I’ve been waiting to meet for a long time.

     I walked to the kitchen and grabbed the butcher knife from the drawer. I started to aggressively stab him all over his body, letting out all my built up anger for him. This was my relief after him bossing me around for all this time.  Chopping him into little pieces and leaving him there to rot. Blood was everywhere. On the ground, walls, the couch, and especially me. I looked at his lifeless body on the ground in utter shock at the gruesome crime I just committed. I couldn’t tell if I was mad at myself or if I was happy. I was proud, very proud, but also scared, scared at the consequences I might be faced with. The proudness I had over powered any emotions of guilt I had by a great amount. This was the first time in my life I felt noticed and not hidden in the shadows of a dark restaurant that made at least $500 a week, just being told what to do all the time.

     I couldn’t just leave the evidence all over the place so I began to clean up the mess I made. I mopped the floor, cleaned the walls, and made sure not a trace of my DNA would be left in that house. I looked at him lying on the ground and gave him a smirk and walked out of the house. I got in my car and drove away. It’s been a week and still I’ve heard nothing on the news, papers, or anything. Should I be considered? I don’t know the answer to that. I’m glad I’m not riding in the back of a car with a metal cage blocking me from the driver, headed to an unknown destination wearing hideous orange jumpsuits, that’s for sure. However, a tiny piece of my heart in the deep bottom of my dark soul has an ounce of a kindness that doesn’t show through. Even though I was proud, I didn’t know what to think. How had this crime not made headlines? This is the first murder this town has seen. I wanted fame, fame without people knowing who I truly was. I just wanted the satisfactory of killing a person, so why has this not yet appeared all over the news? This was my time where I could finally be me and not a person no one cared about.

     I thought many times about returning to Justin’s house, but I thought I better not. I don’t want anybody to see me, or leave more evidence if his body was ever to be recovered. This was a smart decision I think.  It was time for a big change in my life. I needed a clean sweep, something different. I changed my name, hair, I moved out of state, and used colored contacts to hide my real identity. It’s been 3 years since I had committed the murder of Justin Kurt and I’m still a free woman. A happy free woman. Still nothing said or heard about the crime. Surprising, don’t you think?

      I got a new job, but that didn’t last long. I worked at a zoo, but apparently letting animals out of their cage to wander around at their own free will isn’t allowed. “This is a safety hazard for the visitors.” I was always told. This job lasted about 3 weeks roughly, and then I got the horrible news, the news that makes my blood boil. “You don’t listen 

Open-ended prompt

      It was Christmas Eve. Fog stuck to the tarmac at Lindbergh field. My family and I were waiting at the terminal for our flight to arrive, so we could board. We were going to go visit my brother in California at his rehab center. My brother Matt has been a heroin addict for 13 years and my sister and I’s present for Christmas this year was being able to visit him after several years of not being able to see him. Seeing my brother and the smile on his face was heartwarming. It was obvious he had gotten much better over the years. We were going to take him to a nice lunch on the beach front as a surprise, but soon realized he couldn’t be trusted. Matt told my family he didn’t feel comfortable leaving the rehab center. My little sister was so happy to see him she stayed behind with him while my mom, dad, and I went out to lunch. There was no doubt in our minds anything bad was going to happen. We went to a restaurant on the boardwalk and watched the waves. I got a hamburger and it was delicious! It was getting late so we decided to head back to the rehab center and get ready for bed at the visiting hotel next door. As we approached my brother’s room we heard a lot of crying and commotion going on. My dad knocked down the door to find my brother crying in the corner and my sister lying on the floor not moving with syringes surrounding her. We called an ambulance and went to the hospital to find that it was too late and my sister had passed because of an overdose from heroin. My brother had injected heroin into my 9 year old sister’s arm against her will. Witnesses had said they heard screaming and yelling coming from the room. “Don’t do this to me stop, stop, stop.” Apparently my brother had connections to get him heroin even while he was in rehab. Many emotions streamed through me. I didn’t understand how someone of the same blood can turn so evil. I wiped my tears and walked off the testifying stand. Replaying the story back in my head only to tell a whole group of people in court made me more upset. The judge pronounced my brother with the death penalty for first degree murder. The last time I saw him was July 27, 2014.

The Plot Sickens Reflection

      After reading the story by Fanny Howe I would be considered one of the many students that would write about a violent crime. "All the others concluded with extraordinary violence." The author stated that many of the students wrote bout violent crimes against the protagonist or other characters rather then about heroes or happy endings. Also, that the young writers just jump into the plot of the story without developing it. She says the reason for violent writings are because of the economy. "The Economy permeates these stories as an absence of courage, mercy, or even interest." In my opinion it is easier to write about the violent acts because you can have range of stories that are sickening and wouldn't hear them often, so you can be original. However, you can also have a range of stories including happy endings and heroes, but I feel as though those can become to cliché and unoriginal. Everyone has heard of the classics "he saved me" in some sort of way. 





                     

 

Self Deprecation: Judgement  

    What is she wearing? Does she think that’s cute? What is wrong with her hair?  These are just some of the questions I ask myself as I look at some people. I’ve always been  one to judge rather quickly. I really try to keep my thoughts to myself, but it’s almost impossible. Stacey a.k.a my mother always makes it apparent to me of what I’m doing. She always adds in these unnecessary side comments like “stop staring. Can you be nice for once?” I mean I’m not trying to be rude, but seriously come on some people’s appearance just baffles me.
      I judge people from head to toe. If I see someone new for the first time there is no doubt in my mind I have found something to judge about them. I have learned to cope with my friends, but people I don't know just some how get on every single one of my nerves with their appearance. I try my hardest to keep my judgmental thoughts to myself, but I really can't no matter how hard I try. This story I'm about to share with you just goes to show the horrific attacks on the fashion world.

     There was a time I saw a woman and her image just stuck in my head even to this day, and I don’t think I will ever forget it. It was terrifying. It was a normal summer day at the mall shopping until my whole day was turned when I saw this woman. I had to take a moment and ask myself if what I was looking at was real. I didn’t know the answer to that. I was frazzled and was questioning society. This woman was around the age of 65 and a complete pickle, just socially awkward. I felt uncomfortable standing in the same room as her especially with what she was wearing. This pickle of a woman was wearing blue bermuda shorts, a yellow tank top, knee high socks with marijuana leaves on them, sandals, and a scarf wrapped around her head with her hair tied in a ponytail. I know what you must be thinking, but don’t fret my friends it only gets worse. Clearly this woman doesn’t watch fashion police. I was hardcore judging her and felt embarrassed for her. I even considered signing her up for the TV show on TLC called What Not to Wear.  

     Not only did her appearance confuse me, but it also made me very angry. How and why? Is all I kept asking myself.  How does one go out in public dressed liked that? Why does a 65 year old have marijuana leaves on her socks? I calmly walked out of that store stunned of what I just saw. I was truly angry as well. In result I took some deep breathes and walked away to another store, but then I got intrigued and walked back into the store after simmering down. I wanted to know what this woman was going to buy, so I went into stalker mode like they do in the movies and followed her around for the rest of the day. Some of the clothes she was picking out and trying on were just heinous. Floral pants with a zigzag patterned shirt? This just goes to show she really needs to go on What Not to Wear. For the rest of the day I just watched this poor women pick out the ugliest of clothing and felt terrible I couldn’t help her. Maybe this wasn’t one of my best ideas because it just kept making me angrier.

     Consequently, if you couldn’t tell I judge A LOT. It’s worse when they’re my friends. Some people just need to understand some fashion items are not meant to be put together. There are so many magazines, books, websites, etc. for fashion. I feel as though everyone should just get free magazine subscriptions so I don’t have to encounter one of these horrific experiences again.  Just writing this essay made me angry. I just can’t stress enough that DO NOT go out in public wearing items that you would wear gardening or just around the house. They’re meant to be left at home for a reason.