So for those of you that don't know, I really like to write. (Duh. I have the longest blog in the history of blogs, or I will in a few years.) In my English class one of our long term projects is to write seventy pages. C-Dub (my teacher - full name Collins-Wilson) doesn't care what we write so long as if fills up seventy pages. So, naturally, people are being stupid and doing stuff like writing one word over and over again and stuff like that because they have no imagination or such boring lives they have literally nothing to write about. (And I only have a problem with the no imagination thing. I hate drab people with all of my non-existent soul. Boring people, however, don't bother me as much. I just try to avoid them.) Anyways, I, on the other hand, decided to actually do what c dub intended us to do, and I wrote short stories, poetry and a whole bunch of other fun things.
I'm also going to the Oregon Writing Festival this May (the day before my birthday - great present) and we are required to bring twelve copies of a piece of writing to share with our groups and peer edit. So below is what I think I am going to bring and you should tell me if you think its sounds okay or if I should go with my second option. So get ready for a REALLY LONG post. If you don't want to read it, just pretend you did and tell me it was fantastic. I'll be happy :)
He was a quiet kid, brought up by his mother. He didn't like to play with the other children; ever since his old golden retriever died he holed himself up in his room and constructed Lego monuments. People stopped asking about him and many even forgot he existed.
He went swimming every day without fail in the fish-filled lake behind his house. While most of the residents of his small town nursed a not-so-secret fear of the immense black body of water, he and his younger sister loved the obsidian waves and the way they lapped the pearly white shoreline.
He never went to school, yet could outthink and outsmart anyone he talked to. His mother never challenged his seclusion; indeed, she fueled it by supplying him with a steady flow of books that covered every topic you could think of. Why, he reasoned, would you want to go places and do things when time travel and teleportation is possible? He himself often traveled around the world in a single day, beginning in Greece (speaking with Homer) before breakfast and watching with a horrified look as Hiroshima was demolished just before dinner.
He participated in earnest philosophical discussions with his third grade sister. It was quite stunning to listen to them: the tiny eight year old girl and the quietly muscled would-be junior could both talk to the queen of England, should she ever invite them to tea.
He taught her everything he knew, and when she came home crying from school because kids had insulted him, her idol, he only laughed and reassured her that he didn't mind in the least. Unconvinced, when a boy in her class made the mistake of calling him a retard she decked the poor kid with a single punch, forever proving she'd earned the black belt that hung in her closet.
Her brother laughed for a full minute when she told him what happened, but disappeared into his room after dinner instead of reading Harry Potter aloud to her like they'd been doing for years. Later, when she crept past his closed door, she heard him sniff. Throwing the door open, she discovered him crying softly. When asked what was wrong, his simple reply was, "I don't deserve a sister as amazing as you."