COMPLETED- Mountain Climb

As I drove up to the barn, memories of the moments where my life had all been worthless flooded my mind. I had so much hatred in my heart but I had to eventually let it free. Dylan, my older brother had always been looked upon as the God of the house. Everything he accomplished was what I lacked. My mother would constantly say, “I wish you were the exact version as your brother, you’re just a waste of space and a mother’s burden.”

All I wonder to myself is how I was able to survive all those years. Everyday, I hated myself for being raised by her and my father. My father, Bill on the other hand was on the side of showing emotions through his actions. There are exactly three scars right across my lower back. One I can easily recount was from the moment where Dylan had spilled the cup of coffee onto the white carpet floor that was newly bought. As my father returned home from his long day of work at the barn I had spent the entire afternoon memorizing my speech of who and how the contents leaked out. Yet to my surprise I was introduced immediately to the whip that my dad had kept underneath the couch in the living room. Not once did he question if someone else in the house may have caused the incident.
As I stood out of the truck, these memories kept on swarming in. Each step to the wooden door was a bundle of heavy weight upon my shoulders. I had not visited them for more then 13 years and the last thing I wanted to do was shake either one’s hand or even greet them.
I made it to the door. My first task had beem accomplished.

As I rang the door bell that had spider webs surrounded in all directions I heard my mother yelling out, “Bill get the door and on the way take out the trash, I’m making some dinner here!”
I could hear the creaks of the wooden floors, every step had been my father coming closer to an unexpected guest.
As he slowly opened the door he quickly jumped back in surprise. I could swear that this was finally the first moment ever that I had seen fear rushing through his eyes.
"What are doing here Nate?" my father said in disbelief.
"I came here to see her" I replied back.

"Well...umm..go to the kitchen" he replied quietly.

"Bill!!.. I asked you to take the trash out I ca--..
She saw me right there, there was no escape, this time I was not going to leave and neither could she.
After the long awkward moment of of standing there in mixed emotions she went on asking,

“Would you like some tea?”
After all, the journey home had been over 2 hours. My throat had been extremely dry as if someone had shoved a pile of cement down my esophugus forcefully.
“I would. Thank you.”
“Careful. It’s hot.”
“I usually prefer iced tea.”
“Mmm. I don’t have any.”
“Maybe I can put ice in this tea.”
“But that’s what I’m saying—I don’t have any cubes. Sorry.”

Before she began to utter another word, I could see tears streaming down her face like a violent storm.
I could not look at her anymore. Was she about to give her entire speech of apology and attempt to flush all those years down the toilet?

These memories came back to haunt me again.
I'd crawl up into the closet when everyone would be fast asleep, always making sure that father was a distance away, I feared him.
I would constantly pray for a miracle to take place in my life and that the biterness from my parents would switch around. I'd often cry so hard to sleep and until my eyes would stop producing tears.

I couldn't hold this grudge any longer.

I spoke the words right there out of my lips

"I forgive you."


I left the house, never returning again.

You may be thinking that I am a disgrace to my family for not returning back home to communicate with my parents but try living in my boots for a change.
You try going to counseling for four and a half years for suicide prevention and come back to me.
All I can say now is I feel a whole load of weight that I held for those many years of my chest and now I am free to acomplish any task thrown towards me.

HOW TO BECOME A WRITER- Reactions

When I read the story that was written by Lorrie Moore, I had mixed emotions about it. At first what came to my mind was how ridiculously looonng it was, over 15 minutes to read..
Anyways, I thought the meaning overall was to show the reader how there are countless things - over millions of topics/ideas to write about. Imagination is all we need and a piece of paper and pen or even a computer is all we need to be able to express our ideas endlessly, for as long as you want.
I liked how the author started off with, "First, try to be something, anything, else." At times we writers forget how to start of "creatively", especially when in Creative Writing class. We need to be able to just express what our mind is on whether it is on the topic of icecream, to kangaroos, to Chinese food....Just express anything!
That is the one thing I love about Writing, we are not being forced to stick to one main idea and we can never be considered wrong because after all you are free to express yourself.

Jealous Husband...- COMPLETED

The green wads of cash abruptly flew out of the meat packer’s wallet. The crumpled, folded bills scattered out in every direction ranging from tens to hundreds. There was over $238 to be exact. As the beautiful face began to thank her horrid husband, the clerk began to do something very expected.
“Well my beautiful lady, I won’t let you get away without a discount. How about I just charge you with half the offer, after all, you are one of a kind.”
My sudden reaction was to stare into the surroundings of the husband, see if any objects would come flying his personal bubble. Unfortunately, I only saw his face redden as Ms.Gorgeous giggled in response.
The butcher held onto my cage, his arms surrounding to the top of the handle began to give me chills onto my spine. For a moment, all I began to think about was the hell that I would bring on him at my new home but his dark brown piercing eyes that I could feel looking down upon me had sent a threat that was sure to remind me of bird stew. Obediently, I lowered my neck down as I sat on my stool, if I had to live in fear and anger, I did not want to even sense my enemy's presence.
As I lay inside the vehicle, waiting for my destination, I saw her in the passenger’s seat right in front of me as she began to take out her sun glasses. She gripped onto the thick, dark temples with her clenched arms as she slowly raised them upon her shining face. Even the costly spectacles were not worthy enough to be put upon her.
The vehicle slowly drove upon the rugged road, over passing countless of branches that had lost their balance upon the trees. My head felt it had gone through a million rollers coasters all at the same time.
I wanted to weep; let out all my emotions I had never felt so much unbearable pain all at once. However my world was different from theirs, I began to shriek and make any noise for their attention, for their safety, her hand.
“Shut the hell up or I’ll return you back this instant!!” was all I heard back in return. It was useless, I knew know what my life was all about, there was never any hope for me, I was a bird, not a human.