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Title: Creative Writing Portfolio 20062007 Forest Park

Creative Writing Portfolio 2006-2007 Forest Park
  • Kyra Walker
  • Grade 11
  • Mrs. Dowling

  • Thank you for deciding to read my portfolio.
    You will be reading short stories, poems, and
    other writings that I have written for my
    Creative Writing I class. I hope you enjoy them!

Table of Contents
  • Portfolio 3
  • Alternate Universe
  • Summer Lust
  • An Ode to Bosses
  • Misjudgment
  • HUH?
  • Dude, I Have an Island
  • Reality Check
  • All the ways to Say Bye
  • The Meaning of Freedom
  • Hopes Pain
  • Portfolio 1
  • The Little Imp
  • The School Textbook lashes out
  • Caesars Plea
  • Gen X
  • Rebelling Gone Bad
  • Old Demons
  • The Funeral
  • The Devils Pain
  • Lingering Storms
  • Reflections
  • Lost Love
  • Awakening
  • The Boredom of Life
  • See, Here How it was Doctor
  • One in a Million
  • I Believe
  • Deceit
  • Reflections

Journal Entry 1
The Little Imp That session was harder than I
thought it wouldve been. I had been
commissioned to paint a portrait of the Count
Bocchellis four children. Unfortunately, they
were all rather petulant. The youngest in
particular, Rosa I believe her name is, was a
snobbish, rude little imp. She left such an
annoying impression on me that I just had to
compose a poem about her. Here it goes
You snobbish, rude little imp Next to you I feel
so unkempt You bat your big blue eyes Like youre
trying to catch flies You petulant, annoying
little imp You kick and scream Demanding for ice
cream While everyone looks on in horror She gets
redder than red And air is going out of her head
Who knew the Count had such an insane daughter
I say Child, please! Do you have some kind of
disease? Oh what am I supposed to do? Enough,
thats it, Im tired of this
God, please, I cant take no more! I going
through that door Im so weary of this chore I
wont deal with this imp no more!
The Textbook Lashes Out
Hey, Im a school textbook. So over used and yet
so under appreciated. I could be any in any type
of style youd want me to be in, I can be written
in any language. Im loaded with information. I
can inform you about your country or any of the
other countries history and culture. I can even
teach you another language. You can read from me
incredible accounts of past historic events or
tap into the imaginations of world renowned
authors. I am able to give students and teachers
these incredible things, yet Im still so badly
treated. Im roughly shoved into lockers, book
bags, or desks. Im continuously thrown on the
floor, stepped on, kicked, thrown around, my
precious pages crumbled and torn. All I want is
for people to gain knowledge from the words typed
onto my pages. And, most of all, I want to be
appreciated. Is that really to much to ask?
Caesars Plea
My dear Caligula, My blood flows through your
veins. You bear my name, which is why I feel that
I have the right to demand this of you. You must
stop your bloody rampage at once! You are
sullying your name and the names of your
ancestors with the blood of our people. Yes, you
do have the right to avenge yourself and your
family. But you cannot allow this tragedy to
bring you down into a world of madness! Please, I
beg of you to stop or, in time, you will suffer
the same fate as I. Your uncle, Julius Caesar
Gen X
They say were sex-driven They say were wild We
say were open-minded We say were pretty darn
mild They we need some discipline They say we to
behave We say were just having some fun We ask
when is the next rave We are Generation X , and
we live life to the fullest
Rebelling Gone Bad
  • I used to live in Maine many years ago. Five
    years ago to be exact. Yes, exactly five years
    ago my quiet, stable, boring life vanished before
    my eyes. I know that Ive piqued your curiosity,
    so let me tell you what happened. I was a
    librarian in a small, little town located in the
    North of Maine. I was thirty-two and I lived
    with my mother and aunt. One day I had a
    revelation! Id realized just how dull my life
    really was. So I decided to do something
    spontaneous and completely out of character.
    That day I noticed a flyer asking people to join
    a protest in hunting animals. Ive always been
    somewhat of an activist against those sort of
    crimes, so I decided to check it out. I drove to
    the capital, where the protesting was being held.
    When I arrived on the main street, there were
    people brandishing picket signs with photos of
    different animals skinned and gutted. It was
    really disgusting. Then, all of a sudden, this
    wild-looking woman wearing a mink coat splattered
    with red paint came running towards us with a
    shot gun. She started shooting at everything and
    everyone, while cursing venomously. Seconds
    later, the police arrived and arrested everyone.
    After a few hours at the station, I was released.
    I went home, completely embarrassed, knowing the
    whole town would know by morning, and sure
    enough, they did.

Old Demons
The sounds of a persons footsteps carrying a
heavy object could be heard in the deep woods on
this dark, starless night. Then came the sounds
of digging, a man heaving, cursing softly and
then the unmistakable sound of a large amount of
weight being dropped unceremoniously to the
ground. Pattering, like rain striking a tin
roof, was the last sound that would be heard from
these ominous woods for five years.
Five years later, in Kyoto, Japan, Tsara Dorso
sits clothed in a beautiful kimono of a deep
crimson embroidered with a black dragon in one of
the citys many ancient shrines. Beside her
resides Hideaki Nakamura, one of the most feared
and respected men in Japan. He is watching
Tsaras expressions closely while she is reading
the documents Hideaki has so recently acquired.
After about twenty minutes, Tsara looks up into
Hideakis piercing eyes and says calmly, Why do
you bother to show this to me, when you perfectly
know that I am no longer involved is such
matters. Because you should be involved,
Sissy. The Yakuza in this region are getting
out of hand and youre the only one that can stop
them. Tsara, looking as though she is fighting
a great inner turmoil, lowers her eyes and says
in a whisper, Hideaki-kun, please, do not ask
this of me.
But I must, since no one else seems to have the
courage to do so. In a gentler voice and with an
expression of deep tenderness and affection,
Hideaki continues, Tsara, I know being back here
in Japan is hard for you, but going after the
Yakuza is your chance for revenge and we
desperately need your assistance. The police are
not capable of stopping them, you know that as
well as I. We cannot let what happened five years
ago happen again, it will only add to the burden
already crushing your heart.
For long moments Tsara is silent, then she
stands and walks to the shoji. Sliding it back,
she turns and stares at the face of the man whom
for years she has considered her close friend and
trusted ally in battle. I accept, she simply
replies and walks out of the shrine.
Once home, Tsara changes out of her kimono and
replaces it with a casual outfit of jeans and a
t-shirt. She steps out her apartment and into
the busy streets of Kyoto, heading to the police
station. People stare in awe as she walks pass.
She was tall and voluptuous with vivid red hair
and penetrating eyes as black as night, ancient
eyes that appear to have seen all of the
sufferings of the world since the beginning of
time itself. Even though she looks and has the
vigor of a woman of twenty, she seems to possess
the bearing, sophistication, and elegance of
someone much older.
At the police station, Tsara asks the young
officer lounging at the desk to tell her where
the office of Lt. Arima was located. Like many
of his gender, the young man looked at her with a
dazed expression, as though stunned by her
immense beauty. Fortunately, Lt. Arima chose to
appear in that moment. He started slightly when
he saw Tsara, and then his handsome, rugged face
broke into a wide, goofy grin and he quickly
strode over and grabbed her up into a
bone-crushing bear hug.
About time you came back, we missed you. Arima
says hoarsely as he places Tsara down and steps
back to look into her face.
  • Ive missed you guys too, sorry I couldnt come
    back sooner, but things are really heating up in
    the west and I just couldnt find the time to get
    away. Tsara replied as Arima led her into his
    office, away from the curious eyes of his staff.
    Arima closes his office door and steers Tsara to
    the most comfortable chair seated before his desk
    while he sat in his own. For minutes they
    chatted about old times and what they both been
    up to for the past five years.
  • I cant believe its already been five years,
    Tsara mumbled solemnly. Five years since the
    Yakuza came and wreaked havoc on Kyoto and tore
    their lives apart. Five years since the murders
    of over a hundred people, one of them being Arima
    and Hideakis best friend and Tsaras disciple,
  • Yeah, five long, trying years. Arima passed a
    hand through his thick, jet-black hair and
    sighed. Theres something I have to tell you.
    He paused, looking up at Tsara who was staring
    intently at him with those eyes that seemed as if
    they can look into your very soul and see all the
    wrongs you committed. Arima fidgeted slightly.
    He almost forgot the power those eyes held, the
    wisdom and intelligence.
  • So, what is it?
  • I found Kyo, or rather I found his corpse, he
    said, and continued grimly, he was discovered by
    a young American couple with their dog in a woods
    area in Oji. He was buried in a shallow grave
    and he appeared to have been tortured.

  • At this Arima paused, too over come with grief to
    continue. He looked over at Tsara and saw that
    her face was expressionless, devoid of all
    emotion. This reaction made his blood run cold,
    because he had known Tsara for a number of years
    and knew what she was capable of, that this was
    just the calm before the big storm. He was about
    to say something to calm her when suddenly the
    phone rings, startling the both of them. Arima
    hastily picks up and yells a gruff Yeah into
    the phone.
  • Tsara is looking at him as he listens to the
    person on the other line. As she watches, Arima
    becomes deathly pale and then his face flushes
    with anger. He slams down the phone and stares
    off into space.
  • Arima-san, whats the matter? Tsara asks,
    though she has a feeling that she already knew.
  • An old friend of our has just invited us all,
    and I mean Hideaki, Sakura, Kana, you, and myself
    over for a little party.
  • Genjo Ikari?
  • He nods and reaches for the phone once more.
    He calls his wife, Kana, and fills her in on
    whats going on. He then asks her to relay the
    invitation and the location to the others. He
    hangs up and returns his attention back to Tsara.
  • We have to be at the location, an old
    warehouse, in an hour. Kana and the others will
    meet us there. We should get going now since the
    place is a good distance from us. Are you ready
    to do this.

  • Tsara looked at him and smiled in a way that has
    brought many individuals to a cowering heap.
    Ive been ready for five years.
  • When Tsara and Arima arrive, the others are
    already there. Kana and Sakura immediately run
    to Tsara and hugs her. She draws away and smile
    at them with slightly moist eyes. I am happy to
    see you two again as well, but I wish we were
    reunited under better circumstances.
  • You know that will never happen Sissy-chan,
    not with the lives we lead. Sakura says with a
    rueful smile.
  • Youre absolutely right Sakura-san, but I
    wouldnt have minded us bumping into each other
    shopping for a pair of shoes. Kana said
    wistfully, Anyway, shall we go inside. You guys
    know that Ive always been the one to encourage
  • So they all walked inside of the warehouse,
    which was pitch dark. The door shut quietly
    behind them and left them without the reassuring
    light of the moon.
  • Do any of you sense that we were not invited
    over for a cup of tea? Hideaki murmured quietly
    to the others when the lights suddenly came on
    and the group found that they were surrounded by
    at least a hundred Yakuza members wielding very
    big swords and guns. The others nodded in
    assent. Suddenly a dagger was thrown in Kanas
    direction. But Kana, with her kunoichi training,
    dodges effortlessly. Chaos then ensued. The
    sounds of gunshots, screams, and shouting filled
    the warehouse.
  • Then it was over. Tsara, Arima, Hideaki, and
    Sakura were standing in the middle of the
    wreckage, breathing heavily. The Yakuza members
    were either dead or retreating. Those that were
    retreating were quickly caught by the police, who
    Arima had called before entering the warehouse.

Well, said Arima, that was fun. But it seems
that Mr. Ikari jilted us. What a shame! I
really wanted to see him after all these years.
Relive the old days of me beating the shit out of
him. Yeah well, Im sure after he receives
this little gift we left him, hell regret not
making it. Kana replied, a mixture of amusement
and solemness in her eyes. Arima wrapped one
heavily muscled arm around her waist and gave her
a passionate kiss.
Okay, okay, you sex-starved bunnies, why dont
we let the police handle the mess and go do some
karoke? Tsara asked, linking arms with Sakura
and Hideaki. After all, we havent seen the
last of Ikari, and we might as well have some
leisure time while we still can. Alright!
shouted Sakura enthusiastically. Sakes on me!
Still a drunk, huh? Oh shut up. Like
youre one to talk. The other three exited the
warehouse shaking their heads and smiling, while
Tsara and Sakura trailed behind, hurling insults
at each other. They all had the same thoughts
running through their minds they were all glad
to be back together again, and that this time,
they will destroy Genjo Ikari
The Devils Pain
Im a beast, a monster, the devil incarnated at
least thats what they tell me. Why? I wish I
knew. I wish I knew why Im fated to be hated and
feared. Why Im forced to rot away in a cage,
constantly trying to break free. Clawing at the
bars with my fangs, ramming into it with all of
my might, but to no avail. I wait patiently for
the time when I am allowed to take revenge upon
those who have for so long imprisoned me.
Because I will, mark my words, I will.
Lingering Storms
  • I look out at this stormy world with bright,
    dazzling eyes, in hope of one day diminishing the
    clouds that plague it.
  • I want to look out of my window one day and see
    sunshine nurturing the flowers back to their
    original life and color, not murky grayness and
    barren fields.
  • I dont want to hear the wind howling and
    snarling at my window pane like wolves trying to
    intimidate their prey.
  • I no longer want to be intimidated, I want to
    face these storms of mine head on and, like the
    sun, burn a bright tunnel through the grayness
    and find at the end my paradise, my own personal

The Funeral
Hope Dorso sighed deeply as she examined her
work thus far on her computer. She has been
working on her latest novel for a little over
three weeks now and only had about three pages.
And even what she has typed seems lousy. For
some reason, lately she just cant find the
inspiration to write. She figured she must be
going through a rut or perhaps overwhelmed by all
of the craziness thats been going on lately.
But you think Id be used to all the drama by
now, she thought to herself wryly, me being a
member of the Addams Family incarnated.
Hope once again sighed deeply and began to save
her work and shut down her computer. But as she
began to rise from her chair, she heard a loud
commotion coming down the hall towards her
condos front entrance. Hope gazed out of her
office window into the snow-covered Manhattan
The weather has been pretty foul since early
November. The temperatures were below thirty
degrees and its been snowing for the past four
days. In spite of all this, even in three feet
of snow, New Yorkers can still be seen bustling
from one shop to another, carrying three or four
shopping bags. Hope shook her head in wonder at
the city of Manhattan. This place will never
cease to amaze her, it reminded her so much of
her active hometown of Tokyo.
She was jarred from her thoughts by her aunts
heavily French-accented voice yelling, Who
bursts out laughing at a funeral, I mean really,
what is the matter with you three!
Hope walked out of her office to the living room
to find her aunt and three of her best friends
Cheza, Akesato, and Krad all looking disgruntled
and rather disheveled. Hopes aunt, Setsana
Dorso, was pacing back and forth angrily, her
beautiful gold-bronze hair flowing behind her
like water rippling on a lakes surface.
Im afraid to ask, Hope said anxiously, but I
take it that the funeral didnt go smoothly.
No, you think, Cheza replied with her usual
dose of sarcasm. Why else would Setsana look
like she could breathe fire at any second. In
fact, I think I can see a little smoke coming out
of your ears and nose there hon. At this Krad
started to laugh, but broke off quickly when
Setsana sent him a look that could shred steel
and probably would have brought Krad to his knees
if he hadnt already been sitting down.
Well, I wouldnt be looking like this if you
three would just stop acting like the Stooges and
start acting your age.
I think I act my age, Cheza quipped up in
buttery tones of the Deep South. Im out all
night at the clubs, sleep till 2p.m., and dont
have a worry on my mind. Basically I enjoy life,
isnt that how a 20-year-old usually acts?
Whatever happened to responsibility and
sophistication? Really Cheza, theres a time for
having fun and theres a time for seriousness,
and a funeral is definitely a time for
seriousness. Okay Setsana, I get your point,
so stop scolding me. Besides, its not my entire
fault. Krad shouldnt have done that, and at
least I didnt get into a brawl like Xena over
there. She pointed to Akesato when she said
this. Currently Akesato was leaning against the
wall holding an ice pack to her face. Her hair,
earlier immaculate, was now in great disarray and
her long black dress, suitable for a funeral, had
a long tear around the bodice. She had scratches
on her arms and neck, and overall looked like
shes been in a fight with a crazed hyena.
She was about to make a snappy retort when Hope
cut her off. Oh, excuse me, but if you dont
mind me asking again, what happened?
Oh Ill tell you what happened all right,
Setsana said. She had finally stopped pacing and
now sat down on Hopes leather armchair, chewing
on a piece of Jolly Ranchers she had retrieved
from her purse. First off, lets start with
these two.
Setsana absently waved a hand in the direction of
Cheza and Krad.
So, Setsana began, we were all sitting in the
funeral parlor, listening to Uncle Sal while he
gave his eulogy. Uncle Sal, huh, Hope
interrupted, I cant believe he actually gave
the eulogy. How was it? Was he drunk?
It was quite touching actually, and he did it
all completely and utterly sober.
Akesato replied, her voice muffled slightly by
the ice pack and her rapidly swelling lip.
He was completely sober he really didnt have
not one drink?
Yep, he was stone-cold the whole way through.
Theres a first time for everything. Maybe old
Dantes death gave him a wake-up call, and hes
finally found God or something, I didnt really
get a chance to question him about it.
Wow, I expected to hear that he acted outrageous
and vulgar like he usually does, being the
lecherous old man that he is. I guess Dantes
death had a strong impact on him, Aura always
said that they were in love and had an affair
going on. Hope gave a mock shudder as she said
this, the unpleasant image of those two together
popping into her mind. It must have been true.
Uh huh, well when death hits so close to home
like that, and so unexpectedly, it tends to make
the ones still living reevaluate theirs lives.
Setsana says solemnly, but continues more briskly
So, any way, were in the parlor, listening to
Uncle Sal, everyones in tears, sobbing, when
Cheza suddenly bursts out laughing. And not in a
cute little giggle, a huge barking laugh, people
two blocks away probably heard it. What! Why
would you do that Cheza? Hope turns around and
asks Cheza, about to burst out in laughter
Cheza, sitting on a bar stool, her alabaster pale
cheeks flushed with anger said, It wasnt my
fault, Krad was the one who made me laugh. She
threw an accusing glare in Krads direction, who
was reclining lazily on the sofa, eyes closed,
looking like a fallen angel. Dont look at me,
how was I supposed to know that that bobble head
would make you laugh like that. Krad replied,
one eye open to stare at Cheza in open amusement.
A bobble head? Hope inquired. Yeah, it was a
talking bobble head of Bush, with candy inside.
Its a new Japanese merchandise, its pretty
cool. Why would you place that on Chezas lap
anyway? Setsana demanded. I dont know, to try
to perk her up I guess, like comfort food.
Cheza rolls her eyes and Hope and Akesato snorts
in amusement. Setsana shakes her head, obviously
exasperated, and says Anyhow, after Cheza gets
up and leaves, still laughing (we could hear her
from outside), the rest of us has to stay to the
end of the eulogies, with everyone shooting death
glares at us.
After that, we all go back to the Marriot to
have the reception. Everythings going smoothly
when I suddenly hear screeching. I look up to see
Akesato literally throwing Vera across the room.
Vera then lunges at Akesato, screaming like a
Banshee, and then theyre on the floor having a
catfight. It was ridiculous it took five guys
to get them off of each other.
They all stared at Akesato she blushed and said,
She started it. The three of you know how Vera
and I are when were around each other. Shes my
arch nemesis, thats just how it is. Well, I
wish I went with you guys, sounds like I missed a
lot of action. Thats to be expected with you
guys, theres never a dull moment. Hope said
with a chuckle and a twinkle in her eyes. But
hey, how did Granny Polka react to all this, not
very good I imagine?
Youre right on point, chérie, she was pissed.
Krad said with a mock shiver, She said that we
are banned from her gatherings until further
notice, and if she does see us, the next funeral
well be attending will be our own.
Wow, and here I was thinking you guys couldnt
piss any more people off, silly me. Its all in
a days work in the life of the Dorso Family and
Co. Setsana says dryly.
Lost Love Shes been staying up all night
thinking Now shes sitting at the window ledge
looking out at the beautiful twilight He, unlike
her, is probably not even fretting at all But
sleeping soundly since there, it is only
midnight She bitterly thought back to their last
encounter To their fight in the park, he didnt
even allow her to explain Why she did what she
did, why she pushed him away But instead he left
her in the pouring rain She cried for days on
end She called constantly and left countless
messages on his cell It didnt matter to her that
she was making a fool of herself However, it was
futile, cause he basically told her to go to
hell Soon she realized that it was useless to try
to persuade him to forgive her So she headed for
Paris and never looked back on her tumultuous
summer fling Yet she still often wondered about
the man she loved but couldnt have She knows she
will never forget him and wouldnt take anything
Awakening Im finally here enjoying the spring
breeze Standing at the lakes edge watching the
water ripple quietly Listening to the solemn
whisper of the trees Thinking of what lies ahead
my stomach quenches tightly My heart is beating
like a drum My thoughts are all muddled Cause Im
nervous of whats to come Im sweating so much
Im forming a puddle Now Im watching the
beautiful rising sun The scenery as beautiful as
a painting This place brings me back to the time
where I had so much fun Of course life is not he
same as then Now I have to grow up and become a
responsible woman
It was 1970. Judith sighed heavily, bored and
desperately wishing she was someplace else.
Judith was a pharmacist. She worked in the local
pharmacy from six in the morning to eight o
clock at night. Basically, 14 hours of people
struck with colds or the flu sneezing and
coughing (once even vomiting) on her. Agitated
costumers ranting and raving about a misplaced or
wrong prescription. Or worst of all, jolly,
little old ladies showing her thousands of
pictures of their snot-nosed grandkids. Yep,
those were definitely the worst. At times like
that, Judith wished that she could conjure up a
pair of earplugs and daydream that she was in
Paris, a off the scale, drop-dead gorgeous
Frenchman by her side. Ahh. If only her
daydreams could come true.
Well, doctor, its like this. I still dont
know how it happened. But I do know that it
wasnt my fault. Im the victim in this whole
thing. He- he was the devil incarnate. The big
oaf. If my husband didnt show right when he
did, I dont even want to think of what could
have happened. What? He said what!? Well,
thats how it happened. Who, Mrs.Figg? She told
the police that…., for four months….affa- No! It
was self defense. Hell. He was the one that
came after me. He was going to shoot me! Look
at me! Im pale, sweaty, and Im
hyperventilating. Will a guilty person be close
to having a panic attack? Didnt have time? Im
the victim here, not that jerk. He promised me
that hed take me to see his agent friend, help
me become famous, but noo! Hes married, with
five brats. That scum, he deserved it. Id
shoot him again if I could. Hey, hey what are
you doing? Get these things off me. You cant
take me to jail! Im the victim!
One in a million What does it mean to be looked
at as just another person in the crowd, another
nameless face? Does it make me insignificant? Unim
portant? Am I considered to be more important, of
greater concern, if I had a million dollars t o
my name and a Louis Vutton bag on my arm? The sad
fact is, to a great majority of this society, I
think I would.
I Believe I believe in the unexpected, risks,
taking chances. I believe in being
different. Following no rules but your own I
believe in equality. I believe in a world where
nothing is out of my reach. Why do I
believe? Because it helps me to face head on
whatevers thrown my way. In the end, my beliefs
are all that I have.
  • A young woman lay on the floor, covered in blood.
    Her arm was rested on the floor at an odd angle.
    Ragged pieces of linen, appearing to have been
    torn from her dress, were tied tightly around her
    wrists and ankles. Silky, raven hair caked with
    dried blood framed a once beautiful but now
    bruised and bloated face, and sightless eyes as
    black as a the starless night. The silhouette of
    a tall man appeared, his face indistinguishable
    in the darkness of the room. He knelt beside the
    woman and stared at her for several long moments.
    He quietly reached over and gently closed her
    eyes. He then whispered words in Vietnamese and
    kissed her tenderly on the lips. He stood up and
    walked out of the door without a backwards
    glance. Flames suddenly appeared and engulfed
    the corpse of the woman as sounds of a motorcycle
    could be heard tearing away from the street below.

South Vietnam, 1963
Amon Dubrinsky entered a small café in the city
of Saigon. He sat at a table near the window and
looked out, casually watching the people passing
by. Everyone had a wary, slightly hostile look
on their faces, as if suspecting of being
attacked at any second. He couldnt exactly
blame them, what with the army marching up and
down the streets with their guns at the ready.
Amon admired them as they continued to go about
their everyday affairs normally, despite all of
the violence and deaths that has been plaguing
the city and the surrounding areas. It was both
admirable and sad.
Amon was brought out of his reverie as Hope
Dorso sat down across from him. She was his
protégé and also one of his closest friends.
They hadnt seen each other in a few weeks and
had decided to meet here to share information and
to plan their next move. Her usually cheerful
face was uncharacteristically grim, so Amon
guessed that whatever she had learned while up in
the mountains wasnt good. So, she asked,
falsely cheerful, how have things been? Not
very good. Did you happen to hear about that
village near Mekong that was attacked?
Yeah, one hundred massacred and a third of the
women kidnapped. Fifty-five soldiers dead and
sixty-eight wounded. Its horrible and its only
going to get worse.
Amon took a cigarette from his leather jacket,
placed it between his full lips, took out a gold
lighter and lit the cigarette all in one swift
movement. Only after inhaling a deep lungful and
releasing it towards the ceiling did he reply,
Yeah, with what happened this year at AP BAC and
then those monks torching themselves in the
middle of streets earlier this year, I have no
idea what Saigon and the U.S thinks theyre
doing. With the way things are going now, Nixon
and Diem havent got a chance to pull out before
it all hits rock bottom.
Yeah, youre probably right. Hope sighed
deeply, running her hand through her curly,
sable-colored hair, making the various cowlicks
stand on end. She turned her bi-colored eyes
onto the others in the café and said quietly,
Look, theres something I have to tell you.
Something I learned while passing through the
villages near the delta. Just stay calm and
dont start blowing things up after I tell you,
okay? Fine, whatever, what is it? Jien,
hes finally made an appearance. She hesitated
and returned her gaze back to Amon. His face was
impassive, his body relaxed. But she saw that
his eyes had suddenly turned cold, bleak.
Go on he said calmly. Well, apparently hes a
leader of some barbaric guerilla group. I heard
that he is planning to attack the NLF, I dont
know why. I was thinking that we should go and
help them. Theyre rather busy and distracted
right now, with all the fights and that blasted
Agent Orange affecting their crops and destroying
the trees in the jungles. They might be
vulnerable and could use our help.
Okay, we should go now. We might make it before
daybreak and not risk getting seen. If Jien
defeats the NLF and gains more power, Vietnam is
screwed. More importantly, this could be my
chance to get that scoundrel. Weve been playing
this little cat-and-mouse game for almost a year,
and its about time that he pays for what he did
to Mai. Hope opened her mouth to say something,
closed it, and then opened it again to say,
Good, then lets go.
They arrived at the NLF base at four in the
morning, just before sunrise. Goh, a burly
Vietnamese of about forty, was the commander of
this particular NLF branch. For many years, he
has been fighting for Vietnams independence and
now for their unification. Goh, who both Hope
and Amon had fought alongside of, greeted them
with open arms. He and his team listened
silently while Amon explained why they were here.
Goh nodded and opened his mouth to say something
when an arrow came out of the surrounding jungle
and went right through his jugular. All hell
broke loose. Hope and Amon simultaneously pulled
out their guns along with the rest of the NLF and
ran into the jungle, attacking the guerillas.
Amon ran deep into the jungle, shooting two men
in the leg, not killing them. He had the desire
for taking only one life today, and that was
Jiens. The vicious man who made even Hitler
seem like a saint. He moved through the jungle
like a tiger, gliding along at preternatural
speed, his feet barely touching the ground.
He heard the soft crack of a branch to his left
and swiftly threw a three-point throwing star in
that direction. He heard a soft grunt and knew
he had hit his target. He walked over to the
spot and saw Jien kneeling on the ground,
clutching the dagger now lodged in his throat,
the exact position where the arrow had struck
Goh. Did you truly think that you could run
away from me, Jien? asked Amon, his mesmerizing
voice now cold and mocking. Jien moaned in
despair and pain. Hm, maybe I shouldnt have
aimed for the throat. Youll be dead before I
have the proper amount of time to have some fun
and make you suffer. Please dont-
Please, are you really begging me to spare your
life? After what you did to Mai, you really
think that I would let you live. You scum. You
tortured and raped her. Not just her, no doubt
countless other women as well. You should be
happy that you managed to live this long. Now
its time for me to give you a fitting goodbye
present, prepare you for whats to come after
youre dead.
But as Amon moved to stand beside the cowering
Jien, he heard a slight noise, like the rustling
of clothing behind him. He turned around just in
time to catch the steel arrow headed towards his
heart. Amons eyes widened in surprise and
disbelief as he heard the sounds of a womans
laughter. It was a soft, dusky laughter, a sound
that he thought hed never hear again.
Youre reflexes are as remarkable as always,
love. A beautiful Vietnamese woman suddenly
appeared. She was tall, with raven hair and
matching eyes. She was leaning slightly on a
tree a few feet away from Amon, a crossbow held
limply at her side. What the-, what the hell
is this? Amon hissed, a burning rage quickly
diminishing his surprise and disbelief. He had
his left foot planted firmly on Jiens arm,
keeping him in place. His eyes, red with rage,
burned into the onyx-colored eyes of the woman
leaning nonchalantly on the tree.
You think youd be happy to see an old lover,
she replied calmly, flirtatiously. Sensing
Amons rage, she had not moved from her position,
rather she tensed up, readying herself to fight.
Mai, you supposed to be dead. I saw you for
myself. I burned your apartment so the police
wouldnt find out anything about you, Hope, and
me. How is it that youre alive, and why didnt
you come to me to tell me?
Youre right, I was dead. But I was brought
back and given a second chance by a great man, my
god. I didnt tell you that I was alive
because-, her lips quivered slightly and her
eyes lowered to the ground before she said,
because you are now my enemy.
What? Mai, what is this? Who brought you back?
Who is this man that you now work for?
His name is Zaizen, and he is all that I have
now. He is my salvation! Zaizen! Amon
exclaimed in astonishment and anger. He walked
swiftly to Mai and, grabbing her by the
shoulders, said, Are you insane? That man is a
tyrant. Hes far worse than Jien. Do you really
want to align yourself with a sadistic man who
treats everyone, women in particular, like trash?
Hes not like that! He cares for me!
Hes- He is using you. His only desire is to
see Vietnam and the U.S in ruins. He does
nothing but leave disaster and pain in his
wake. It must crumble before it can be
What! Amon released her and took a step back
looking at the woman that he had once thought
himself in love with as if he has never seen her
before. Are you saying that you want to see
Vietnam destroyed, but why?
Why?! Because Im so tired of it all. First
being oppressed by France and now this damn war.
North and South. Were fighting against each
other and the U.S at the same time. It will
never change. Violence and death will always be
on our doorsteps. So you want to bring forth
more death and violence. You fool! What will
that do? Absolutely nothing. That leech Zaizen
has corrupted your mind. Dont do this Mai,
please. If you have any love for your people and
your country at all, you will separate yourself
from Zaizen and rejoin me and Hope.
No, youre the one who is wrong. I am sorry
that things have to turn out this way, but I made
my decision. Im going to fight alongside Zaizen
no matter what you say because that is what I
believe is the right thing to do. Im
sorry. She pulled out a small black bag and
threw it to the ground. A thick, black cloud
engulfed Amon, blinding him. No, Mai, MAI!
Amon suddenly heard a piercing scream, then
silence. A few seconds later, the cloud
dissipated. Amon looked around him and saw that
Jien, (who he had completely forgotten), was
dead, castrated, with a sword driven into his
chest. He searched for Mai but knew that she was
gone. He also knew that the next time they saw
each other that they would be enemies, and that
one of them will have to die.
  • What if we lived in a colorless world? Would
    there no longer be any jealousies, no envy, no
  • Would the world be a better place cause were all
    the same?
  • Or, because of that sameness, will we all be
  • Without color, theres no individualism, no
    creativity, just frost
  • Frost because there will no longer be any yellow
    to represent the warmth of the sun
  • Bleakness, only monotone colors of gray
  • Who would want things to be that way?

Summer Lust
  • Lazy bird resting
  • On the battered, limp tree trunk
  • Eyes filled with longing
  • For new beginnings to come
  • Oh, he cant wait to have fun

An Ode To Bosses
  • The boss yells
  • Spittle flying everywhere
  • His jowls are jiggling

  • Just because Im quiet
  • Dont assume I dont know how to talk
  • Dont think that Im cold and stoic
  • Maybe Im just in deep thought
  • Just because Im quiet
  • It doesnt mean that I dont like you…well, it
    might mean that
  • It doesnt mean that you can walk over me
  • That I cant stand up for myself
  • Just because Im quiet
  • Dont think that I cant have fun
  • That I dont know how to smile
  • Just because Im quietdont think the worse of me

  • Where the heck am I? I wake up and find myself
    lying in a sinfully comfortable bed. Im in a
    brightly lit bedroom, and when I look to my left,
    out of the window, I discover that I seem to have
    magically relocated myself to a beach. I groan
    loudly, slapping my cheeks a few times, wondering
    if I had had one too many drinks. How many did I
    have? One? Two? No, more like seven. Ah,
    lucky number seven. Get wasted, pass out, and
    wake up in a beautiful beach house. Very nice

Dude, I have an Island
  • I have an island. I wake up this morning with a
    HUGE hangover to discover that I have an island.
    Big shocker. Its very beautiful. Filled with
    all of these exotic plants, with luscious
    rainbow-colored fruits. I tried this bright-red,
    kiwi-looking one for breakfast, it was divine.
    The air carries a nice sea breeze across the
    island, making the temperatures just right. Its
    my own personal paradise. Theres just one
    problem. The place is completely deserted!
    Theres no nearby islands, no boats. Oh god,
    what if Im stranded here?! Alone?!

Reality Check
  • Im finally here enjoying the spring breeze
  • Standing at the lakes edge watching the water
    ripple quietly
  • Listening to the solemn whisper of the trees
  • Thinking of what lies ahead my stomach quenches
  • My heart is beating like a drum
  • My thoughts are muddled
  • Cause Im nervous of whats to come
  • Im sweating so much Im forming a puddle
  • But now as I watch the rising sun
  • Its warmth embracing me like a mothers
    reassuring hug
  • Im brought back to a time where no worries
    plagued me
  • But of course life is not the same as then
  • Now I must grow up and face what lies ahead

All the Ways to Say Bye
  • Goodbye
  • See you later, peace, adios, dont let the door
    hit ya where the good lord split ya
  • Au revoir
  • But dont go too far

The Meaning of Freedom
  • Freedom to me is having the privilege to be
    yourself. To be able to express your self
    without feeling that you have to hide your
    emotions or downplay how you feel. When a person
    is free, theyre allowed to love whomever they
    want, have their own dreams and aspirations.
    They are just allowed to be their own individual

Hopes Pain
  • Why? Why am I so weak? How could I have let
    all this happened?
  • Hope…
  • No, Armand. Dont try to console me. Say that
    Im still just only a fledgling, that Ill get
    better in time. Its been six bloody years since
    I accepted my role as the War Goddess, and what
    the hell have I accomplished? Heh? Nothing.
    Ive done nothing but cause people heartache.
    Cause myself heartache. I should have listened
    to my mother when she said that this would be
    extremely difficult, painful. But I didnt. I
    truly believed that I could heal the world with
    my powers. Put an end to all the violence and
    suffering. Bring about eternal peace and
    happiness. Wow, what a foolish, naïve,
    idealistic little girl I was. Thinking that I
    could actually make a difference.
  • Hope, stop, thats en-

  • No I will not stop! Voice cracking, Hope
    angrily shoved a shaking hand through her hair
    and shouted, Theyre all dead! Theyre all dead
    because of me Armand, dont you see?! Because I
    was too weak to stop Zaizen. Because I was so
    cocky that I believed that I could stop him with
    just one quick stroke of my sword. But boy, did
    I get a wake up call! Not only did I not stop
    Zaizen, but he killed the people that gave their
    lives to me to protect. People that I had grown
    to care about. Mannen, Sara, Mikara, that
    monster massacred the whole village! I could
    have stopped him, but I allowed myself to be
    tricked, allowed him to lure me away from them.
    And Akiko, god Akiko, I killed her with my own
    hands! What type of person does that make me?
    Its been four years since thats happened, and I
    still havent defeated him. Instead Im chasing
    after him blindly, repairing all of the damages
    that hes causing.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Hope sat
heavily on the leather sofa. Armand said
nothing, but simply watched her, knowing that
shes been holding all of this in for quite some
time now, and desperately needed to vent. Hope
put her head in her hands, shaking it. Her
shoulders were slumped, and she looked utterly
defeated. Broken down by the terrible weight
that she has been carrying on her shoulders for
the past six years.
I dont know how much more I can take, Armand.
The pain. The guilt. The fear. Its all too
much. Like you said before, I allow my emotions
to cloud my judgments. Im unable to emotionally
detach myself from my duties. I wear my damn
heart on my sleeve, open and vulnerable to anyone
wanting to pummel it. Hope sighed and looked up
at Armand, a sad little half-smile curving her
luscious lips. To be truly a warrior, to
protect others, I have to be prepared to cut out
my own heart. Thats the way of the samurai, the
way of anyone who chooses to live and die by the
sword. But, the thing is, I dont know if Im
prepared to accept that fate, or if I ever will
  • Writing poems was the most challenging assignment
    for me because Im accustomed to writing short
  • Im most proud of Old Demons and The Funeral
    because for years I have had those characters in
    my head and am glad that I have finally put them
    on paper.
  • I did not put my autobiography in to my portfolio
    because it was one of my least favorite
    assignments and something that Im not passionate
  • I would feel comfortable extending Old Demons and
    The Funeral because I have always wanted to write
    a series based on those characters
  • I would feel comfortable changing The Devils
    Pain into a short story or an essay because I
    like the concept and the meaning behind it.
  • Lingering Storms reflects my personality the
    most I wrote it based on how I felt about soon
    becoming an adult and living on my own. It
    reflects my pride, my hopefulness, and my strong
  • I think I became stronger as a fictional writer,
    but for the poems in my third portfolio, I wasnt
    very fond of writing. I learned that I have a
    preference for fictional suspence. But learning
    of the different types of poems will help me in
    my English classes. Hopes Pain is a section out
    of part two of the Birth of the Peacemaker, which
    is not in this portfolio