Pickle Write

The sun streamed throgh the crystal pickle jar on the dusty pine shelf, making a criss-cross pattern on the checkered wall-paper. The pale green tinge on the plaster made me think of green grass on a summer day. Of picnics on the green grass. Of the pickles in the picnic basket. Just waiting. Waiting to be taken out and put into someones mouth, so that they could explode thier bitter flavour in juices that coated the eaters teeth and slid down the throught like a good tasting cold tonic, if there ever was one.

All of this thinking of breathtaking juices and swirling flavours awakened my stomach. It growled and twisted like a couger in captivity. My mouth watered like it hadn't eaten in weeks, quickly filling my mouth and threatening to spill over to dribble on my chin.

I had to have one. Just one. One bite would satisfy this stomach-churning hunger. I suddenly felt this longing. A longing for a pickle that surpassed any wanting I had ever felt before. It made me as wild as a dead branch in the hurricane. Making my feet spin and run a reached and grabbed it wildly. I had it.

Language Lady

Faster with words than an automatic typewriter! More powerful than a stinging insult! Able to Decode languages in a single second, it's Language Lady!! The language speaking wonder! She can talk with animals and read the heinous minds of villains! Not quite, I thought. If I could read minds, stopping injustice would be all to easy.

I was reading the newspaper in my favorite cafe, Strawberry Truffle, and I was trying to act like my secret identity, Willow Trinity, but I don't think I was doing a good job. I almost wanted to drop the secret identity thing. I Just couldn't seem to stop acting like a superhero. But if I was Language Lady all the time, Backwards man would find me.

Backwards man, I thought. The Language flunk. Oh, sure, he made up his own language and stuff, but all he did was write it backwards and I could read it easily with a mirror. But, even though his languages were all to easy to understand, he tired me out. I mean, ever since he inherited that monstrous fortune he had never gone back to work, and had all the time in the world to figure out puzzles for me to solve. I wouldn't mind if some one died and left me a fortune. Then I wouldn't have to work and could drop the secret identity thing.

That would be heaven. Just to watch for injustice all day. and not have to worry about people looking at me and saying, 'HA! It's Language Lady!' or 'You can't fool me!' All the big superheros are like that. Except for Superman, but I'm pretty sure he has this thing with Lois Lane. Man, Is she lucky. She has a superhero for a boyfriend. Not even I have That.

My pager went off. I jumped up, with a little too much enthusiasm, and my coffee spilled down my skirt. Oh, drat, I thought. There goes my brand new skirt. Oh well, I'm going to change into my costume soon anyway. I quickly ran into a nearby alleyway to call my director. He would shoot me the details on my mission. He didn't answer. Odd, I thought, He has never not answered me before.

I hurried down to the directors office, still wearing my stained skirt. When I entered, The secretary greeted me as always, but she seemed more subdued than usual. For some reason, she wasn't doing anything. Not typing, or writing, or talking on the phone. She was just sitting there. I paused. Should I ask what was up? I was about to when, she noticed I was staring and said,

"Go on in," Nodding her head towards the door. I smiled and quickly strode into the room. It was dark. That was the first thing I noticed. The other thing I noticed, though sadly it was too late, was that there was a net above me, dropping towards me. I was caught. I screamed for help, but then I realized the walls were soundproof. I had always relied on this before, it allowed the director and I to talk without being heard. But now it was the worse thing I could have hoped for.

".emit tsal eht rof,ydaL eguagnaL, niaga teem ew oS"

Backwards Man!! Stupid, Stupid me! I fallen into his trap like a fly on flypaper. I wonder how I would get out of it this time. I had just finished thinking this thought when something hard came down on my head, and I blacked out.

When I came to, I had a Metal helmet strapped tightly to my skull. I almost moved to take it off, but my arms were strapped as well. I couldn't move an inch. I was trapped under a mass of neon colored cords.

",ekawa rouY" Backwards Man lisped in his not-so-foreign language. "tcejorp ym hsinif ot woN"

"What Project?" I asked in a quavering voice. What was he going to do to me? I was really in trouble now.

"esruoc fo ,segaugnal ruo hctiws ot yhW" Switch our languages. Then I could only speak in Backwards language. And he would have the power to rule the world. I had to think fast!

" But, your not wearing a metal helmet" He stiffened. Then scratched his head, rather embarrassed.

"no enim tup ll'I dna thgit tis uoY.em ylliS" He went to bustling around the office, putting wires together and strapping wires to his body. A bird twittered at the window. My thoughts were suddenly filled with her tweets of concern. Milady, is that you? Are you in trouble?

Yes! my mind screamed. And then I knew. I had to lose my power. At least for a little while. I suddenly focused on the bird transferring energy in to her little brain. She shook her head, as if trying to get something out of her ear. Then, she lifted her wings to go. No, stay. Then you will be able to speak English, and you can go for help!. She straightened, until she was at her full height and leaned forward, as if she could make the transition faster.

Go!, I screamed in my head. The transtion was complete and I could no longer speak english. The bird had my power now.

" I won't fail you Milady," she whispered, and off she went. Thankfully, Backwards man didn't hear.

"og ew ereH," Backwards Man said and he pulled the lever. I felt a strange sucking, and then it was over. Backwards man tried to speak, but he couldn't, for I had given my power to the bird. The police burst in the door, with the bird close behind.

" I told them Milady," She said in her new voice.

"uoy knahT," I said. The police reached over and flicked the lever, and everything went back to normal. Except that I could no longer speak, and the bird could speak every language. But that didn't bother me. Now I had put Language Lady to rest, and I was speechless for the rest of my life. I went and lived with the bird in the forest, and we took care of each other.

THE END!

Running and crying

My breath was puffing, which felt good on the sweat dripping down my neck and arms. My chest was heaving and my feet a blur. The leaves in the trees were just a green background to my eyes. Sticks and twigs slapped against my tear strewn face as I ran, but I didn't care. I didn't feel a thing.

The only thing my mind could comprehend was run. Get away from there. From it. I couldn't even think the word. All I could do was run and cry. Run, cry, and think, but the only thing my mind could think was run. Run and cry. And in this way I was only caught up in my running and crying. Running and Crying. Running and crying.

My mind was caught up in running and crying, so that when the creek appeared in my path, appearing out of nowhere, I didn't see it. Well, I did see it, sort of a tear-blurred version of it, my eyes saw it, told my brain what it was, told it to stop, but my mind couldn't. My mind didn't tell my legs to stop running, or even to jump. It just kept thinking Running and Crying. Running and Crying.

When I came to the creek, I didn't stop. I just ran. I ran and I tripped. I tripped on a stone in the creek and fell. Slowly, slowly I fell. Landing in the water, with a small clunk. The cold water rushed over me and, and, and strangely I didn't feel it. Couldn't feel it. I just let it wash over me. And over me, until I was numb. Until I was only a wet, crumpled mass in the creek. Crying in the creek.

When my tears ran out, so that I couldn't cry any more, the cold water did something to me. Finally did something to me. And I finally came to my senses. I shouldn't have done it. Shouldn't of Run. Why had I run? All of a sudden I sat up. Yeah, I thought. Why had I run? My mind had pulled a blank. As if I was playing 'Apples to Apples' and I had drawn a 'create your own' card. We never knew quite what to do with those cards. We always threw them back in the deck and drew another one. Everyone did that except my boyfriend.

It came to me. My boyfriend. I had left him. Abandoned him. It suddenly all came back to me. We were riding the motorcycle. The Candy Orange Harley Davidson Motorcycle. I loved that motorcycle, mostly because it was my favorite color. It had just come out of the shop. Something was wrong with the brakes. It was supposed to be fixed. But maybe it wasn't. He did send it to the cheap shop, and I'm pretty sure the guy who gave it to us was drunk.

That was it. The brakes. That is why we had crashed. We were going too fast around that corner. I knew it was too fast. I had told him. But he didn't stop, He couldn't stop, I mused. The brakes must have still been out. We had fallen. Slowly, so slowly. I didn't know time could go so slow. And then we scraped across the pavement. He was pinned beneath me. I had tried to move my leg, but I couldn't. I could feel his blood seeping into my jeans.

And then we had stopped. I called out to him. He didn't answer. I lifted him up, out from under the bike. And I dropped him. The blood. Oh, the blood. It scared me, so much that I had to get out of there. And my feet were set in motion. They didn't stop. They didn't stop until I fell in the creek. I was still in the creek. I shouldn't be in the creek. I had to go to him.

I got up so fast, I almost slipped again. I stumbled as fast as I could back the way I had come. When I finally reached the road, he was just where I left him. The sun was setting in the west. That can't be right. That much time couldn't have passed. I checked my watch, which, ironically, I trusted more than the sun. It read 4:48. I must have been in the creek for at least an hour. My boyfriend groaned. Stop checking your watch, Your boyfriends in trouble! My mind screamed. I ran towards my boyfriend, whipping out my cell phone as I did. I started crying. Running and crying.

Again, I was running and crying. With shaky fingers, I dialed 911. The operator picked up. I told her my situation and she said to me,

"Help is on the way." Finally, the tears stopped.

My Progress

Dear Teachers of GMS,

This is a letter about my progress and how you have helped me, and can helped me more. Thank You for your help.

It is sometimes hard to talk about my progress because a lot of the time I don't like focusing on me, me, me. I don't take a good look at my progress except on report cards. Which, as you know, only comes three times a year. Why? I honestly don't know. I guess I am focusing more on what I'm learning, where I'm going, and Having fun with my family and friends.

When I was little I was very stubborn. I still am. In this way I somehow handicapped my learning of speech and spelling. I grew Physically before academically. I was inching across the floor at 2 weeks, flipping my car seat off the counter at 3 months, and walking at 10 months. My brother was exactly the opposite. For example;My brother would say One-Two-free-four, When my dad noticed that he wasn't pronouncing the 3 right he would correct him, saying,

"No Caleb, It's One-Two-THree-four" Caleb would copy him to the letter, even emphasising the T-H sound. I ,on the other hand, frankly didn't care. Dad would correct me and I would stubbornly say 'That's what I said, One-Two-free-Four.' I have long since entered into a public school, and learned that when an adult corrects you they're usually right. Usually. My first grade teacher also taught me the wonder of reading, and since then I have excelled. My reading, writing, spelling, vocabulary, and grammar has improved. All of that from learning to read!

I think my next step will be to write instead of read books. I have entered into the world of reading and would like to contribute some reading materials to the following generations. To express myself into my books through my characters. To write my own style. Create my own endings. I could show those writers how its done. Well, some of those writers. Some of them I will always look to for advice. They will give me example of what to and not to do.

GMS will also help me. They give me teachers ready to help. They equip us with a blog, and time to write. They have a big library to give me more materials to study and have fun with. GMS is a place where friends can meet, to give me suggestions. The teachers are very good, and there is a variety of teachers with a variety of questions and words of praise. GMS also teaches me different ways to write my own pieces. Thank You GMS. Your help is valuable.

But you can help me more! I think it would be easier in school if we had time to work on our homework in class. I also think that this would help kids actually get their homework done, and then they could also understand it. We also would have more time to study at home (Or write Books!). Maybe we could also not have to work in groups all the time. It helps me if I can just do my work and not have to worry that the other person is doing their share. And one more thing, It would really help my consience if we used less paper. If we printed on both sides, or maybe didn't use paper at all, we would use way less trees.

Thank You,
Your student