Cold Water

My foot collapses beneath me. It doesn’t feel like stepping into snow. But there’s a crunch, and, suddenly, my body is dropping. My eyes close, and my heart falters. My arms reach to the sky, but to no avail. The melting world around me disappears. The world is black. The world is silent. My body is limp. Suddenly, life slows down. The talons of death begin to grip every inch of my body. I feel the water seeping into my clothes. It’s all around me, and it’s pulling me down. My eyes open. They look for something. They look for anything. The icy water grabs them, and forces fear into my mind. I desperately search for the light, but the sun’s warm rays are augmented with an icy window. The light shows through the watery prison in a soft shade of blue.
My arms thrash frantically through the cold dark liquid. I try to hold myself together. I feel panic coming into me. It’s bringing me down faster than the water now. My arms are thrashing faster now. Quickly Will, quickly Will. You have to try. I have to try. The water pushes itself against my mouth. My lungs push against my mouth. They are crying, they are screaming like a thousand babies for what they want most; air. My eyes hurt so much. My clothes feel so heavy. They began to latch onto me. Everything is grabbing me. Everything wants me to die. I can’t die. I can’t die. I search for an opening. The water burns every bit of my body. I shut my eyes, slipping back into the darkness. The freezing water hurts them too much. This can’t be the end. I can’t stop here. I push up against the ice. My soaked gloves slide on its surface. I kick, and I kick– I can’t sink. What can I do? What can I do? I can punch. And I punch. I punch harder than I have ever before. I slam my fists against the lakes thick sheet of ice. I hit, but nothing happens.
Suddenly, without warning, my body supercedes my logic. The icy water flows into my mouth. It electrifies my teeth, and clots my throat. My body tries to breathe, but only chokes as the lake travels through me. I push even harder against the ice. I kick even harder. But the thick sheet of imprisonment will not move. And the panic becomes too much to bear. And my hope begins to sink. And I look down. All I see is the darkness. It calls out to me. It reaches up, with its frosty grasp, and it begs for me to fall. I’m scared. I’m so scared. But I look away. I look along the plane of ice. It stretches endlessly in every direction. The water is thick with chunks of frozen debris. The light from above gives the water near the surface an eerie visibility. I turn my head up towards the light, and I see ripples.
There is a chance, I can make it. There is a chance, I will not die. I kick, and I swim. I move my limbs like I’ve never moved them before. I push the weight of my 8 year old body. I push the weight of my soaked winter gear. I push the weight of utter desperation. I push till I am free; and I burst through the water. The sun shines down on me, smiling happily at my freedom. My lungs rise as I gasp for air, but I only breathe in water. Hands reach down and grab my arms. They tug me upwards from the darkness. Are they the hands of God?
My father pulls me up over his back. I euphorically gaze around. The trees in the distance drip with the thaw of spring. The snow, the ice, and all of winter’s frozen tyranny, are dying around me. I bob up and down as my father sprints to land. He drops me onto the slushy, mud filled, snow. I’m choking. He hits my back, and gelid water flies out my mouth. Air bursts into my lungs like a hug from a mother– breathing never felt this good. My dad kneels down to my level, and looks me in the eye. His voice shutters as he scrambles the words:
“Can you breathe??”
I nod my head, only to realize I cant feel anything. I look down at my drenched snow pants to see my legs shaking. I suddenly notice that my whole body is shaking, and I look back at my father.
“You need to get inside”
He spits out, as he swoops me up in his arms, and begins to run to the house. I look up to the cloudless sky and focus my eyes on the sun. I whisper:
“I thought I’d never see you again”

What was that?

I was walking down to the Canoe Club when I saw a couple frantically paddling a double-kayak to the dock. The kayak was tilted towards the back and seemed nearly flooded, but they managed to bring it safely into port. When the inundated boat was hauled out of the river I saw the source of the trouble: the tip of the boat was gone. The yellow plastic ended in a strangely smooth way, as if it had been left in a strong acid. The couple stood on the dock looking dazed and lost. I approached them and asked what happened. They both looked up at me in surprise, as if jolted out of a daydream. Then, slowly, with both trying to talk at the same time, they told me:
They had been kayaking down the river, just having a day in the sun. Paddling along, more absorbed in eachother than their surroundings, they paid little attention to where they went. Slowly and unnoticed, a mist crept across the water, arriving silently on slippered feet tiptoeing over the water, it surrounded them. Suddenly they noticed the change: surrounded by a whiteout, they could only see a scarce few feet from the boat. They laughed nervously at the novelty of it, but the mist swallowed up the sound, making them silent with unease. The water had calmed, smooth as glass but just as impenatrably murky as before. The river seemed to absorb their cautious strokes: what ripples were created disappeared quickly as the water remained resolutely calm. Thinking logically, they made their way for shore, but land never came. Pushed by an unspoken fear, they paddled faster, but no matter how they flew over the glassy surface all they found was fog. Then, a disturbance, ripples in the water, this time spreading quickly across the surface. Again, from the left, the power of the displacement rocked their boat--but soon all was still again. Defensive now, they frantically scanned the vague waterscape, looking for the threat. Suddenly, out of the water loomed what could only be described as a massive catfish. It opened its gaping maw and latched onto the back of the kayak. A horrible sucking noise broke the silence and the beast began swallowing their boat. Screaming, they both took up arms and hurredly slapped at the fish with they paddles. Seemingly surprised by the ferocity of their retaliation, the monster fish sunk back beneath the waters, claiming the back end of the kayak. Their fight done, flight took over, as the couple paddled furiously away from the behemoth. To their relief, spears of sunlight streamed through the mist, chasing it off. Apparently they had gotten completely turned around, since the Canoe Club was now in sight, towards which they paddled before they were swamped.
They finished their tale slowly with great difficulty, as if they couldn’t quite remember the details. I would have asked them their names, but I never got the chance. After telling their account, they broke off, their eyes unfocused. Staring blankly, they walked aimlessly away until one of the employees interrupted, asking just what had happened to the kayak, to which they monotonasly stated that they must have hit a rock.

"Okay Class, Pick your partners!" Within .5 seconds, everyone had a partner. In all the confusion, I hear this high pitched voice. " I want HER to be my partner!" her pointer finger slowly arranged itself in my direction. Who was this short, curly haired freak? And why did she want to be my partner? Probably because I just answered the math question correctly. I didn't even know her name. Cindy was it? Oh crap, I highly doubt she knows my name. My new friend was different, I couldn't point my finger on it, but there was something about her that was different. I liked it. From that day on, we became really good friends. And I found out that her name wasn't Cindy but Sydney. That was in 7th grade, and now We're both Seniors. I'm excited to walk across the stage and receive my diploma with my best friend since 7th grade. She was my first friend and are we really going to go separate ways come next September? I told her, We would apply to some of the same schools, so there is a better chance we will be together. We've been with each other through thick and thin. She's been there to pick me up at 11pm on a school night because I couldn't take it in my house. And I've done the same for her. Of course we've had countless fights and they've been about god knows what. And we will probably continue to have those silly fights. We laugh about the most stupid things. We are quite crazy at times. And we both can annoy the heck out of eachother. But I'm glad to have a friend like her.

Friends and Family

My friends and family mean the world to me. Even if it is screaming and fighting with them all the time. They are my back bone. I can always rely on my family and friends. I have had one friend for about 6 years. She moved here from Maine. I was her very first friend. We have been inseparable ever since. Most of the time our friendship consists of unimportant fights. We understand each other so it is always nice to know that you can have an easy conversation with someone that understands you easily. My family not so much. They always have to evaluate what I say. It then turns into something that I never meant to say. I love my family, I love my friends. I remember this one time in 8th grade when we went on a trip and I went with this friend of mine. I was having a very hard time, and she was there every step of the way to help me. She understood what I was going through and did her best to comfort me. I have never gone with her to visit her family. I always promised my friend that I would go with her. I am going to keep my promise. Even though I get into fights with my family, it is the best family that I could ever of been born into. I know that they are not perfect. But I would not want to live in a perfect family. There would be no fun in that. I have a big family. I am more close with my family on my dads side since they like to see me more. My mothers side not so much. They live the closest to me, but don't put out the effort to visit me. My dad's side is all uncles. All we do when we see each other is joke with one another. They are easy to make fun of. Its just a bunch of laughs when I visit my family. So pretty much I wouldn't be anywhere today if it wasn't for my family and friend. and I just wanted to say thank you to them. 

Flutterby

Flutterby

The butterfly winked at me, the eyes on its wings flashing brightly in the few sunbeams that made it through the canopy above. Around me birch trees grew in a strangely purposeful grid, giving the effect of walking down ephemeral corridors as I moved amongst them. It was a place that I had seen many times off of the road and had always meant to visit, but had never gotten around to it until now. The glade was shady and covered in soft green moss, although with a definite lack of wildflowers (which is why I was surprised to find a butterfly there). While I wandered about the butterfly hovered in a sort of expectant air, always staying in sight. The twinkle of its wings suddenly drew my attention away from the trees, prompting me to properly inspect it as it fluttered about. It was unlike any flutterby I had ever seen: its wings were a deep black that seemed to shift between earthy hues of rich dirt, red clay, and mossy loam. The eye designs on the wings, by comparison, were a piercing blue which somehow managed to catch the light of the scarce sunbeams just right.
Now the butterfly flitted past and behind me, hurrying now to some destination. Not wanting to see it go, I followed blithely along. When it floated into thicker brush I hesitated, but continued on, figuring that I might as well explore a bit. I picked my way through the thickets and overhanging trees, stumbling and snapping fallen limbs in my passing. Soon though, I broke through into a clearing. Squinting from the intense light, I paused to take in the idyllic scene. Long yellowed grass with a smattering of goldenrod swayed in the breeze, while a small stream cut through the glade, crystal water tumbling over round-washed stones. I saw that my butterfly had joined more of its kin to flit amongst the grass, tasting of the wildflowers. How extraordinary, to find not one but many of these beautiful creatures. But wait, I couldn’t pick out my butterfly from the rest. As if sensing this ripple of uncertainty in my otherwise cheerful thoughts, the butterflys scattered, each speeding in a different direction. Panicked, I froze in place. It seemed terribly important that I follow my butterfly, the one that had brought me to this place. I felt that the others would lead me down insidious ways, to the darkest vales of the wildwood. Then out of the corner of my eye, a bright blue flash, and I turned to see my flutterby winking at me through the trees, offering me safe passage. Sprinting, I broke back through into the shadows of the forest.
Tumbling through the brush, I kept the winking eyes just in sight. The flutterby was too fast, I couldn’t keep up. The forest got in my way, branches whipping at me, hidden roots. My foot caught. I tripped. The trees parted, revealing a steep embankment, but I couldn’t stop, my momentum carried me forward and off the cliff. Rolling down through the dust, earth and sky blending in my muddled vision, nothing broke my fall until a peculiarly soft thud halted me.
I had landed on emerald moss, soft and springy. I bounced off of it onto sturdier ground, dusted myself off and only then finally looked around me. Here the woods were darker, great trees twisted up from the earth to blot out the sun, allowing only the rare ray of sunlight through their gnarled boughs. The green moss crept everywhere, whilst spotted toadstools peeked up from beneath the roots and plate fungi spiraled in staircases up the trunks of tree. And there were the ruins. The buildings had fallen, great walls torn down by the passage of time, with only the foundation stones still standing firm. But the statues still stood. Great monoliths of granite, looking as if they were cut from a single slab. Breath taken, I walked gingerly amongst them, while their many faces peered down at me in mourning, jubilation, rage, and submission. Sadly, they too had been touched by time: the creeping moss covered much of their bases, and roots silently worked their way into the stone, widening the cracks. I felt awed, and somewhat excited: this place was beautiful and secret, and I was here! There were no signs of frequent visitors; I might even be the first to find this place since its makers departed. But wait, why did they leave? So much effort had been poured into this place; it must have been of enormous significance to its builders. Why would anyone leave this behind? While I stood there, thinking my perturbed thoughts, a shimmer caught my eye. My butterfly! I had scarcely noticed its absence. Now it came rushing to me, beating against me with its small wings, hurrying me from the way it had come. My curiosity piqued, I glanced down the row of statues to what lay beyond. It was dark. While the twilight of the ruins gave them a somber air, this darkness was menacing; something more than just the shade of the trees.
The air and earth rumbled, as if a great horn was sounding just out of my hearing range. From the dark came a gust of wind which seemed to break around the flutterby, but what was left of its power still lifted and slammed me against a tree. Heaving myself up, I saw the butterfly lying broken in the moss. Hesitating just enough to cradle my guide in my hands, I rushed away from the ruins. The next blast was diluted by distance, but regardless hurled me up the hill. Sprawled at the top, I collected myself and darted into the trees. The third wave of air attacked, but was broken by the forest, with only breezy tendrils clutching at my clothes. Panicked, not know where I went, dodging limbs as they zipped past, I just ran. Seeing a light to my right, I veered towards it, flitting through the trees.
I burst through the trees, suddenly disoriented. I was back where I began, in the corridors of birch trees. I collapsed, my head reeling with it all. I opened my hands to see my guardian undamaged-well, unchanged. It lay still. I set it on the ground, and spent the longest time just staring, willing it to move, and despairing in how its bright eyes had lost their glamour. After the sun had set, the nights chill drove me sadly away, with only a small burial mound as a monument to what had happened. I’ve returned many times to that place, wandering in the forest hoping the chance upon the great relics hidden in the wood, or simply waiting amongst the white sentinels. But the forest seems to turn me back, and no guide comes to show me the way.

Letting Go

All of my life has been a constant fight with my family. Over nothing but nonsense. Sometimes its me starting it, because they come and annoy me when I am clearly doing something else. It might be because of my short temper, but they know me well enough not to do it. It starts off with me and my mom talking. Then my temper starts to take over. My step-dad a person who I thought was my enemy. The only enemy here is myself. He would come down and take over the situation, because he didn't like how it was sounding. That really pisses me off. I realize now that he was only trying to help me, but always went about doing it in the wrong way. Sometimes the fights get so bad. My brother starts crying, then I go and try to comfort him. Not the best time to do, since I am the one that made him cry, and I'm still upset. I don't like to hurt the people that love me, and are just trying to help me. I took my family for granted. Having a life changing experience really turned my life around. I am very greatful for that experience. I love my family, I try not to do things that hurt them. All I want to do is be the best daughter, friend that I can be to them. Its time for me to return the favor.

Where's the Respect?

My junior year I decided to take Anatomy and Physiology instead of Chemistry. I thought I would put it off until my senior year, so I would have an easier class to look forward too. Not too much homework.
The first day of school didn't start out too well. The day prior I had gotten a molar extracted and it went terribly wrong. I go to my first three classes and they seem alright and the kids in the classes weren't too bad. Then Came 4th period.
I walk into class 3 minutes late with a peanut butter and jelly. The kind of peanut butter and jelly that had the perfect amount of peanut butter. Not too much, not to little, spread out evenly on one side of the white bread. And the jelly, was grape. The best kind of jelly to put with peanut butter. Grape jelly isn't like strawberry or raspberry where you get the seeds stuck in your teeth and then it takes hours to get all the little seeds hiding in your teeth out. The kids in the class were decent. All juniors, so of course I felt superior since I am a senior. Mr. Falcone gave us an activity to do, and I unconsciously put the tempting and magnificent peanut butter and jelly down. Next thing I know, Some Junior, Whom I have never met before, is eating my peanut butter and jelly. He knows that its mine and yet still proceeds to eat it. I wasn't mad, more aggravated and confused.
Now everyday that I come into 4th period, he is always asking me for some of my food and if its not asking then he's helping himself to it. Within the last week, we have gotten to know each other and now I don't mind as much, but where's the respect?