Jack- o- Lantern

You are plump and proud and still
Staring with sightless eyes
Forcing an emotionless grin
cool and smooth, mute and helpless
A hand slithers into your innards
It is dark and you are
nothing but a decoration,
a traditional fixture on my porch
You will not stay there long
for once the Eve of All Hallows
is through,
You will be useless, a nuisance, useless
the chilly air on your skin
will dissipate
and into a greedy black can you'll go,
pieces of your body strewn everywhere
A rather cruel death
for an innocent pumpkin
Such as yourself.

Blades of Grass
are what we are
Small and Unremarkable
Blades of Grass
long to be trees
Important, Massive
Just as
we long to be remembered
A Piece of Paper
is what we are
Not useful until filled with words
A Piece of Paper
longs to be a book
As we wish to belong
And Little Stars
are what we are
Grouped together and Glowing
Little Stars
Want to burn brighter than the sun
As we do
And this is what we are.

My Rube Goldberg Experiment

Ugh

Today I was faced with something horrifying...: Reality. In language arts, we're getting into our memoir writing unit. We have to write about things that have changed us or made us who we are today and stuff like that. But there's one glaring problem. I've realized I'm not Bella Cullen, Harry Potter, Katniss Everdeen, or Snow White. I haven't survived a dust bowl or ever gotten jumped on the way to school, (my teacher apparently did and taught herself to fight...) or become a celebrity. I don't really have anything that epic to write about. Most of my memories aren't dramatic and heart-wrenching. So the question is... What is a regular girl like me supposed to write a memoir about?? Maybe I'll just make something up. (hehe).

Eighth grade, Lindsey Stirling, And Other Stuff

    On Thursday I went to back to school night. My math teacher is Slovakian and has three (!) master's degrees. My English teacher has Twilight and Hunger Games posters all over her wall. I have a feeling I'm going to like her. I finally have a top locker and I have to bring all of my supplies in tomorrow for the first day of school. Eighth grade should be an adventure...
       Lindsey Stirling is coming to Colorado. For those who don't know who she is, Lindsey is a super cool rockin' violinist. The thing is... You have to be sixteen or older to go to her concert. Why???? Thirteen- and -a -half year olds appreciate cool violinists as much as the next, older guy!! And the tickets are only seventeen dollars!! I could totally save that much up before October 10. The only thing stopping me is that age limit.
        In other news, I got a facebook, went swimming for the very last time this summer, saw the Hunger Games for the fifth time, and went on a couple of super fantabulous vacations. That's all for now.

My Words Aren't Dead After All

For a while, I was dreading the idea that I had lost my ability to write poetry but finally, at eleven o'clock last night, I got inspired and my words began to flow again. Yay! So, here's the poem I wrote, called Heat.

Swooning over yellow fields
and farmhouse roofs
Hazy horizons and muggy air
follow in her wake
Sultry, sizzling, sighing
Stretching her dry arms further
Draping them lazily
over whatever lies in her path
Waiting for her forbidden love
A frigid blast of air
also known as Cold.

Life seems to deflate beneath her touch
She wanders slowly
Savoring the loneliness around her
and the lights that flicker out
But, Cold never shows up
With a last despairing sigh
Heat retraces her steps and
goes back to the arid, golden wasteland
from which she came.

A New Summer Posting Idea

Remember how last summer, I'd post a quote I liked every so often? I think I'm going to do something along those lines again this summer but instead, with a few song lyrics that I like. I know that I like to look for new songs and artists to add to my playlist, so maybe this will help you find some new music...? So, to start off the summer, I'd like to begin with a song that reminds me of a snowy winter's night. This heat has been bothering me so what better song is there?

"Whoa, I hear the quiet now
Of paper airplanes falling down
Whoa, the branches of every tree
Bend like a cathedral over me

Down where the river bends, everyone's waiting
But that's not the reason I'm making these tracks in the snow
There's a box in my hands as I go
Wrapped up in scarlet and gold
For you"
-Tracks In The Snow, The Civil Wars
(For the rest of the lyrics, go to: http://artists.letssingit.com/the-civil-wars-lyrics-tracks-in-the-snow-38lbwsv

Sage

So, we have decided to name our bunny Sage, keeping with the theme of his old name, Green. Sage is an easy going, hilarious and friendly bunny, much different than the neighbor's who hardly even tolerates petting. Sage has taught me that although I'm not a cat person, a dog person, a gerbil person, or even a fish person, I may be a rabbit person!

A Naming Crisis

So, say that you were to name a 2 month old black and white lop eared bunny and you had to pick between these three names: Thor,Crusoe, and Pipkin. Which one would you choose? This may or may not be a real situation and we need your help!! Please tell me your favorite name or any newer better ideas you think you have and I will post the result when we pick the winning name. Thanks!!

Haircut

A Sunday Afternoon Mandala

   This took me like two hours just to color. What can I say? I'm detail-oriented. Normally, I get tired of anything too artsy but this one was fun to do. I used watercolor pencils and a mandala coloring book to achieve this.

A Result Of Summer Boredom

Sometimes, when there's nothing else to do, my friends and/or sisters and I like to fool around with the camera and pretend like we're America's Next Top Models. I took some with my friend today but I don't know if her pastor dad would like having her pictures on here so that's why there are none. So, as there's nothing else for me to post today, you can take a look at these amateur shots. Also, Keith Urban has been nominated for male video of the year and he needs your votes so, go to http://www.cmt.com/cmt-music-awards/male-video-of-the-year/ and vote for him!! Thanks.



Mission Accomplished

Imagine this: You're sitting on the back porch, cold sweetness fills your mouth with euphoria, a yellow rosebush stands out in the twilight, the smell of roasting peppers and tomatoe plants fills the air, the soft whisper of a page being turned disrupts the cool breeze. This is how my evening was spent, eating this, a caramel sundae with cherries-



and listening to Keith Urban and reading my newest book

This is how I've decided to reward myself for getting through the year with a steady 4.0 GPA and ready myself for the summer nights ahead. Mission accomplished, let summer begin.

Ce'st La Vie

Today I helped at the Silver Creek field day. I cheered for Sophie while she ran with the torch, I gave ribbons to kids fifty-yard dashing, and I measured the distance that small children could jump. Thinking that I could beat my partner Natalie to a random chair found at the long jump station we were working, I attempted to sit down on it, not knowing that she had moved the chair away and.... fell to the ground. And then, thinking again that I could look cool and jump really far, I did so except, the grass was wet. I did jump far but, my foot slipped. I thought I did a backflip because I saw the sky and then the ground but I guess my head was just rolling around. Again, the ground and I met. I escaped from serious injury, except for those made to my pride. I should've known it would happen but, hey, that's life.

Violin

Today, I'm going to tell you about the time I fell in love. It's not what you'd think though.
It was a warm February day and I had my sixth grade registration packet in hand. Stay with the trombone or try something new? It was the question that had been racing through my mind all day. I pulled out my registration form yet again and looked at my choices. Band, orchestra, or choir. I knew choir was out of the question as I had hated it the one year I'd been in it in third grade. I was getting tired of having chapped lips from the trombone and figured that none of the other band instruments sounded very fun. The cello and viola crossed my mind but the violin was the one that stuck. Later that day, I found that my mom had borrowed my aunt's violin so that I could test it out. I drew the bow across the rough strings, probably creating a nasty sound but I immediately knew that the violin was the instrument for me.
    Now, this is my second year playing the violin and I've signed up to be in orchestra for next year as well. I've clearly made progress from tooting out wobbly notes on the recorder and sliding around on the trombone. Playing violin is one of my passions and I hope it stays that way for a long time.   

Fiddling Around

Art of the Thomases

This painting is called "The Garden of Promise" by Thomas Kinkade. He just died at the age of fifty four.


"Mountain of the Holy Cross" by Thomas Moran
            Both of these Thomases have super amazing paintings. Look them up and you'll seen the full bounty of their art. These are just a few I liked.

Synesthesia

So my friend told me to take this quiz to see if I have this. She does. Synesthesia is where you can like smell colors and letters have personalities and things of that nature. Well, I realized that I have personalities>color synesthesia?? It means I can associate people and their personalities with colors. Don't worry... I'm not some kind of weirdo. Lauren has it where weekdays have colors and numbers and letters have personalities. I think that kind is a little bit weird... don't tell her I said so. You too can find out if you have synesthesia by going to synesthete.org
Just thought I'd share that with you all. If you comment I might be able to tell you your colors...

More...

Sorry, the story keeps getting darker as it goes and I don't know how to stop it!!


     “Henry, darling, how are you?” My mother asked cautiously. I raised an eyebrow.
     “Fine, Mother,” I answered. Her brow furrowed and she laid a hand on my shoulder.
     “Henry, I don’t think you’ve been quite well since we came to Wood Lilly Place. Your father and I, well, we’ve been thinking that it’s about time to leave.” My mouth fell open.
     “No!!” I exclaimed, “Please don’t make me leave. I’m fine, really!” How could I leave just when I knew that Sabrina had never left? My mother sighed and nodded. With that, she left me sitting alone in my room. The afternoon was still foggy, just as it had been this morning. I heard some shuffling outside the door and immediately got up and opened it. Gertie stood in the hall, looking frightened. She pushed past me into my room as soon as she saw the door was open. She sat down on my bed, distraught.
     “I’ve done some bad things, Master Henry, but none so bad as this evil deed.” She gasped. A few silver strands of hair had come out of her neat bun.
     “What do you mean, Gertie?” I asked quietly. Tears began running down the woman’s wrinkled face.
     “Oh, I can’t say Master Henry!! Only that Sabrina was never ill. That was a lie!” Sabrina herself had said the same thing. Now, I was extremely intrigued.
     “How did she die then, Gertie?”
     “I cannot tell!! It was a sinister thing, indeed, though!” Obviously, Gertie knew something about my dear Sabrina’s death. Had she killed her?? I narrowed my eyes and said,
     “Please, tell me now. I loved her so much. The least you could do is tell me how she met her end. Please.” Gertie dried her eyes with her apron.
     “All right. But you can’t tell a soul what I am about to tell you, no matter how horrible it is. Sabrina was….. she was murdered, Henry.” A howl of rage began to rise up in my throat but I stifled it. Who would kill lovely Sabrina? Suddenly, an idea came to me.
     “Did you kill her, Gertie?” I demanded. Shock crossed the old woman’s face.
     “Of course not!! I loved little Sabrina as if she were my own! How can you possibly believe that I killed her?” She was right. But if she didn’t, then who did? She took a deep breath.
     “I’ll tell you more when I get the chance, Henry. For now, though, I must get back to my job.” She stood up and almost ran out the door. I glared at the heavy mahogany thing long after she had gone. After a while though, I brought out the Ouija board. If anyone would tell me who Sabrina’s murderer was, Sabrina herself would.
     “Who killed you, Sabrina?” I whispered. I felt a cold wind enter the room and the arrow stopped on the “s”. I did a mental inventory of everyone in the house at the moment. The only people with “s” names were her parents, Sarah and Samuel. Had her own parents killed her? No, I couldn’t imagine it. More confused than I’d been before, I put the Ouija board under the bed and gazed out the window at the foggy New Hampshire forest.
Sabrina

***

Take caution

Treading on dangerous territory

Anything can happen

No good to come



Treading on dangerous territory

No way for me to help

What to do?

Be careful



No way for me to help

Take caution

What to do?

Anything can happen

I avoided Mrs. Colston as much as I could. I didn’t want to tell her about what I went through. I even took measures of taking meals in my room under the false pretense that I was studying. It didn’t help, though. Every night for a week after my excursion, I dreamed of Sabrina. It would always start out with me seeing Sabrina at the end of the hallway. She would beckon to me but I could never get any closer to her than I was. Then, I would see Joel standing next to her smiling wickedly. He always held a white rose spotted with blood. I would tell Sabrina to run and then the floor always caved in under me and I fell into darkness. I woke with a start each morning. Finally, after about nine days, I got the courage to eat downstairs with the Colstons and my parents. They greeted me happily and Mrs. Colston seemed to have forgotten about the key and my trip down memory lane. Roast beef was served and we ate quietly. Suddenly, a chill came over the room and I felt queasy. My mother looked at my father with confusion and suddenly, a whisper came from the far corner of the dining room.
“I wasn’t sick!” Mr. Colston’s face drained of color and Mrs. Colston clutched her knife with white knuckles.
“Sabrina?” Mrs. Colston asked feebly. All she got in response was what sounded like a female sigh. Then, I felt something stroking my arm. Goosebumps rose where I was touched. At that moment, there was no doubt in my mind that Sabrina was in the room with us. She breathed my name and I shivered. My parents and the Colstons stared at us- me awestruck. I could feel her presence becoming weaker though, and with desperation, I exclaimed, “Don’t leave me!” With that, the cold evaporated from the room and she didn’t linger. Dry sobs racked my body and everyone looked away. When I finally calmed down, Mr. Colston glared at me accusingly and left the dining room. My father wouldn’t make eye contact with me and my mother and Mrs. Colston looked ashamed. I threw my napkin down on the table and ran up the stairs to my bedroom. I heard my mother call after me but I ignored her. I slammed my door with a satisfying bang and noticed a strange sort of board at the food of my bed. There were letters all over it and the words yes and no. There was a pointer in the middle of the board. Was it some sort of game? In tiny writing on the corner, there was a word: Ouija. I had heard about Ouija boards. Adrenaline coursed through my body and I sat before it.
“Are you here, Sabrina?” I whispered shakily. As if by magic, the arrow began to turn and thunder suddenly crashed outside. It pointed to yes. I let out a small cry of surprise and tried to slow my heart. It pounded quickly in my ears.
“You said you weren’t sick. How did you die?” I asked quietly. The arrow began pointing to letters. I, t, w, a, s. I waited for more but someone pounded on the door. I glared at it and then asked again. The arrow wiggled but didn’t move.

Sabrina
***
At last
Power surging through me
I can do this
Get the justice I deserve

Power surging through me
Henry, I spell out
Get the justice I deserve
Thunder cracks and falters

Henry, I spell out
My energy is fading fast
Thunder cracks and falters
Not enough time

My father burst in and screamed, “Stop all of this nonsense!! Sabrina is dead! Get over it and put that thing away!” I stared at him steadily and he slammed my door back shut. He was wrong. He didn’t feel the things I felt, hear the things I heard. I knew that Sabrina was still very much with us. I put the Ouija board under my bed and settled in for a long night.
I woke up the next morning to a quiet knock on my door. I got up and saw that to my horror, a blood spattered rose had been left there. I kicked it away and tried to stop my hands from shaking. I dressed and went downstairs as though nothing had ever happened. Porridge sat on the table for me. I ate it slowly, not wanting to have too much time on my hands. When I was finished, I found myself walking into the music room. It was a foggy day and the windows cast an eerie gray light over the instruments. I sat down at the piano and saw a flash of lavender out of the corner of my eye. I looked over and saw something unbelievable. Sabrina was sitting on the window seat, beckoning to me. She looked so real and alive. I got up and she did too. I walked towards her but, she walked out the door of the music room. I followed her timidly and she stopped at the closed front door to make sure I was behind her before walking through it. I gaped and opened the door. The only way I knew she was out in the fog were the flashes of her purple petticoat that I kept seeing. She kept calling for me, teasing me. At last, she stopped in front of the stables. I rushed towards her but she melted away into the foggy morning.

Where Have the Hippogriffs Gone?

I wrote this a long time ago, maybe second grade? I got inspired by this book about unicorns that was just like this story. I haven't edited it, I thought it would be better to leave it in its original form because if I got started, I'd change everything.
Where did the hippogriffs go? They have left their green, sunny oasis, with bright yellow flowers and lush green leaves. They have followed the path where the phoenix calls. Up, up into the sky they fly to glide in the soundless blue blanket in the air. Where did the hippogriffs go? Attacked by angry camoflauged hunters, they have fled to a place anew. They have flown past towering mountains and flat wastelands. Through forests and deserts. They have gone away, never looking behind them, to fly in the peaceful sky.Where have the hippogriffs gone? Frightened by whirring chainsaws whirring through the trees, and chugging front loaders ruining the earth, they have fled the construction soaring up, up, up to the fluffy clouds above. Where have the hippogriffs gone? They have galloped away from the toxic fumes. Away from the smell of sewage and smoke, down to a string of river full of fish and blue herons. Where have the hippogriffs gone? They have galloped and galloped as swiftly as they could to get away from danger. Into the moment when the sun sets, up and away to the darkening sky. Will we ever see them again?
If you go out when the stars are beginning to show and bury your feet in the cold grass and cast your gaze into the sky....... You may see a flutter of a wing or a stamp of a hoof and the muscular shape of a hippogriff in the starry night sky.

I also have a weird Hunger Games-esque story brewing if anyone is interested. I have a lot of stories going on right now.

The Hunger Games

I don't know if any of you have read The Hunger Games... but I have and loved all the books. Today, I went with the whole seventh grade to see the movie. It was fantastic. They did leave some things out, but there were a LOT of details to include and I was impressed at how closely they followed the book otherwise. I don't recommend going to see it unless you've read the books though. It wouldn't make any sense otherwise. But anyway, I thought I'd give my two cents about The Hunger Games. That is all.

My parents and the Colstons went to town again. The house was dead silent. Mrs. Colston left me a note. “I’m sorry I cannot be at home today. If I was, I’d show you Sabrina’s things. However, I’m sure you can do that just as well on your own. Use the key I gave you to get into any of the rooms that she had things in. It works on every door. I suggest you do this today as I would like to hear how you feel about it all. Good luck to you, my dear Henry. Signed, Mrs. Colston” It read. I didn’t want to go to Sabrina’s room. I didn’t want painful memories flooding in all day. I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around. Gertie stood behind me, looking gaunt. “The missus would like me to remind you to use your key. She sounded very distressed so I suppose it’s important.” I stared at Gertie, horrified. Now Mrs. Colston was getting Gertie to make sure I did this? I shivered and nodded. Gertie studied my face and asked, “Are you quite well, Master Henry? Would you like some tea?” I shook my head and fled up the stairs. I went into my room and grabbed the ornate key. I wanted to get this over with so Gertie and Mrs. Colston would leave me alone about it. I unlocked Sabrina’s door and stepped in. Sabrina’s signature composition paper was stacked neatly on her white desk. Violets were on the windowsill and a dress was laid out on a chair. Love letters for and from me were strewn about her vanity. Her jewelry box was open to display her strands of jewels and pearls. I could almost see her sitting at her desk talking animatedly about something new she’d written. It was enchanting and eerie all at the same time. I wanted to go away but it felt as though I was rooted to my spot. I was lost in memories for a moment.
“Come see, Henry. I’ve written a few poems and even some music. Besides, it’s too foggy for a walk today.” Her voice rang out in the stern house like a bell. She’d grabbed my hand and we’d pored over her poems and original compositions all afternoon. She had a gift and her plan had been to publish her work as soon as she got a bit older. I supported her fully. Again, she whispered, “I’m going to be a big name one day, Henry. People all over the world will be reading my work. Maybe I’ll even be so famous that the public will be reading my writing one hundred years from now! Just think of it, Henry, ‘An Anthology of Poems by Sabrina Colston, no- Sabrina Blair’.” She’d winked at me and I’m sure I blushed. Sabrina was never afraid to say what she thought or felt.
Without thinking, I opened one of the drawers of her desk and found a few sheets of paper. I rifled through them until I found the music she’d written that day. I left the room and carefully locked the door behind me. I headed down the stairs to the music room. I tried to shake my nervousness about going back in there and unlocked that door too. I lit a bunch of candles and sat down at the gleaming piano. I put the music where I could see it and began to play. I was not as good as Sabrina’d been but I played anyway. The tune was lilting and ethereal and filled the room with magic. I finished with the last beautiful measure and looked over the music again. I was surprised to see it was called, “Henry and Me.” I choked back tears and put the cover back on the piano. I suddenly had the eerie feeling that I was being watched and turned around. Gertie and one of the stable boys I’d seen were standing in the doorway. They both glanced at each other and composed their surprised faces.
“That was beautiful Master Henry.” said Gertie. The boy nodded in agreement although he looked at me with cold eyes. I muttered what I hoped sounded like a thank you and they turned around and left. I could hear them arguing softly as they went down the hall.
“Joel, why did you insist on watching him play?? Now he’ll be suspicious of us.” Gertie spat.
“Now, Aunt Gertie, don’t worry. I’ve got it all planned out.” The stable boy that must’ve been Joel replied. The way he said this worried me. I shuddered and again, went to the old ballroom. Sabrina’s journals were no longer littering the floor. Instead, they were chronologically lined up on a massive shelf. I randomly picked up the one for the year of 1846. I flipped open to about the middle of the journal and read that day’s entry.
February 15, 1846
Journal-
Yesterday was one of the best days of my life. It started when mother came in to wake me up. It was abnormally sunny for a February day in New Hampshire. She gave me a kiss and wished me a happy Valentine’s Day. I followed her down to breakfast, forgetting that I was still in my nightgown. When I sat down to breakfast, dear Henry looked highly scandalized and Father was extremely angry. Before I could get up and change, we were served heart shaped biscuits and pink tea. I almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation. However, neither my parents nor the Blairs said anything about it and I got to eat breakfast in my nightgown. After we were finished, I rushed upstairs, blushing and dressed in the prettiest day dress that I had. As I was brushing my hair, a knock sounded at the door. I opened it and saw Henry looking sheepish.
He asked timidly, “Sabrina, would you like to come take a walk with me? And would you permit me to paint a picture of you?” I smiled with delight and nodded.
The day was lovely and Henry had me sit in a gorgeous meadow full of flowers and sunlight. He painted me with finesse and looked at me with adoration in his clear blue eyes. I have never felt so loved, nor have I loved someone so much. My heart skipped a few beats and I felt as though I were in heaven. When Henry had at last finished the portrait he picked me a bouquet of violets, which he knows are my favorite and tucked a wood lilly behind my ear. He wouldn’t show me the painting though, no matter how much I asked. He said it was to be a Valentine’s Day surprise. All afternoon, we frolicked though the pretty little meadow until we heard Gertie call us to supper. Before we left though-and I can’t believe I did this- I kissed him. We stared at each other for a moment after and then ran to the house, laughing like giddy children. After the great ordeal of supper had ended, he took me into the music room and unveiled the painting. Henry had made me look so beautiful and angelic and the attention to every little detail in the scene was astounding.
“Thank you, Henry.” I whispered.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, lovely Sabrina.” Henry replied. We both went up the creaking stairs and each went our separate ways. I don’t know what Henry dreamed about that night but I dreamed we were dancing in the meadow.
I remembered that day well. It was the day I had first realized that Sabrina loved me. I smiled and put the journal back on the shelf. Suddenly, I heard, “Henry, love. Help me, Henry.”
“Who’s there?” I shouted into the quiet room. No answer bounced off of the rich mahogany walls. I slid the journal back into its place and left the ballroom. Shivers crept down my spine continuously and I felt dizzy as I climbed the stairs to go back into my room. Just as I opened my door, I heard the carriage coming up the drive. I felt almost relieved.

Sabrina
***
I try
I’m so weak
I can’t break through
The walls dividing us

I’m so weak
My energy is wasted
The walls dividing us
Seem to be killing him softly

My energy is wasted
I can’t break through
Seem to be killing him softly
I try

Mandalay Bay, Cesar's Palace, Eiffel Tower

I would be happy to post more Eiffel Tower pics if anyone would like to see them...

The Wedding

Rehearsal Dinner, Sightseeing, Babysitting, Oh My!!

My dad and I went to Las Vegas for my cousin's wedding. Here are some pics. There will be more, don't worry.

A New Story

I finished Damsel.... However I feel embarrassed about the sappy weird parts that I put in there so I will not be posting the rest of the story. I guess I can email you all the end if you beg me to....
So, I've started a few new stories. This is my favorite one so far.

Sabrina
*****
Sorrow
Mist everywhere
Stuck here
Lonely

Mist everywhere
Lost and cold
Lonely
Why?

Lost and cold
Searching for justice
Why?
Stuck here

The carriage traveled up the fog covered road to the Victorian style home that lay deep in the woods by a cold, glittering lake. My parents were friends of Sabrina’s parents. She and I had been sweethearts before… We didn’t like to talk about it, especially not me. The day felt damp and dreary which was normal for New Hampshire. We passed the tree which Sabrina and I had carved our initials into. I looked away, not wanting to be reminded of the past. Suddenly, the carriage stopped and my parents and I got out of the velvet seated carriage. I stared up at the cream colored house and the gray shingles. My gaze caught on the turret. The white lacy curtain rustled a bit and I heard Mr. and Mrs. Colston making their way down the creaky stairs of Wood Lilly Place. True to the house’s name, the delicate orange and red flowers bloomed in planters on the wrap around porch. Mr. and Mrs. Colston finally appeared on the porch. Mrs. Colston shouted half heartedly, “Well, come on in! We won’t bite!” with a weak smile. I followed my parents in. The house still smelled like damp wood and honeysuckle. Mother pulled off her calf skin gloves and dropped them onto the small table. She then removed her feathered hat and set it next to my father’s top hat. I studied the foyer quietly. There was no sign that Sabrina had ever lived here. The picture of her that I’d painted was gone but in its place was a spot whiter than the rest of the wall. I numbly followed the older people into the library to have tea. My mother murmured, “Ethel, we’ll be here as long as you need us. I know this has been hard for you.” Mrs. Colston nodded somberly and continued pouring the tea. My father and Mr. Colston were engaged in some conversation about poker or something. I took a sip of the bland tea and hardly noticed when it burned my tongue on the way down. “So Henry, dear, how have things been down at the University?” Mrs. Colston asked. I shrugged and offered her a noncommittal smile. Mrs. Colston frowned a little and then announced, “Well, if you’re all ready, we’ll show you up to your rooms.” We all stood up and followed Sabrina’s parents up the creaky stairs. The rest of them walked past the third room on the right but I stopped and peered in. I remembered tip toeing up the stairs with Sabrina so she could show me her poetry in this room. Everything was as it had been that day. There was still a fountain pen lying on the elegant white desk with paper strewn all about. There was a jar of violets sitting before the window and the sheets on the four poster bed looked rumpled and unmade just as if she had woken and had taken a walk and would come back. I was startled by a hand on my shoulder and whirled around. Mr. Colston glared at me and closed the door. Then, he led me to the room on the end. It was rather plain but homey. I sank down on the bed and thought about my lovely Sabrina Colston. I pictured her in my mind. Wide pale green eyes framed by thick black lashes. Her mouth set in a pretty smile. Her beautiful curly, raven hair falling around her shoulders perfectly and a strand of pearls would hang around her long, slender neck. She would be wearing a dark green off the shoulder dress with a white floral pattern. A pen would be tucked behind her ear. I sighed and wished that I was back at home. Then, I wouldn’t be plagued by these constant memories.
The next day I woke feeling dazed. My room was filled with the scent of violets and roses, like Sabrina’s favorite perfume. I sat up and suddenly, the scent was gone with a cold draft. I sighed quietly and got dressed for the day. I had the eerie sensation that I was not alone but I quickly pushed it aside.

Sabrina
*****
My love
He’s back
He needs to know
I am here

He’s back
I miss him
I am here
He doesn’t know

I miss him
I love him
He doesn’t know
I need his help.

A few days passed until the Colstons and my parents decided they wanted to go into town for something. They headed off in the carriage and left me alone in Wood Lilly Place. I sat in my room imagining that I could hear Sabrina’s laugh echoing downstairs. But, I realized that it was all nonsense and went down to eat some breakfast. I saw that they had left me a few biscuits with honey and some tea. I ate them and decided to look around. I walked down the pristine white hallways, my shoes loud on the dark wood floor. I stopped in the music room. A shiny golden harp sat by the window. The room was a hexagonal shape as it was part of the turret. In the center of the room, a sheet had been thrown off of the piano. There were chairs and sofas lining the walls. I took a candle from its place by the door and lit it. The room looked eerie in the sudden light. I took a seat on the nearest sofa and I stared at the smooth, black piano.
Suddenly, the first six notes of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata burst out of the piano. It had been one of Sabrina’s favorites. My breath caught in my throat. They were played again this time, very slowly. Had I imagined it? For a moment, I was frozen with shock but then, I quickly got up and ran out of the room, candle still in my hand. I ran down the hall until I reached the end of it and stopped to catch my breath. After my heart slowed to its normal rate I realized that I was being silly. Being back here must’ve caused me to imagine the piano playing, or maybe it had, and they just had some sort of piano that played itself. I wiped my sweaty palms on my trousers and carefully avoided the music room. I nodded to Gertie, Sabrina’s old nursemaid passing by in the hall. She looked at me with wide eyes and quickened her pace.
I frowned and entered what used to be a small ballroom. There, I saw the painting I’d done of Sabrina. In the painting, she was sitting in a meadow surrounded by lilac, wood lilies, violets, and evening primroses. Her white lacy dress billowed out around her in the lush grass. She gazed at me, the viewer, happily and a small smile played on her lips. I wrenched my gaze away and saw that there were journals and books littering the floor. I picked one up and read the heading written in Sabrina’s freestyle script. “Summer of 1847”. We had been sixteen then. Sabrina and I had known each other since we were eight years old. I gently set it back down and backed out of the room. Then, I gingerly walked up the stairs and went into my room to spend a long day alone.

Sabrina
*****
Moonlight Sonata
I used to play it
For him
Romantic but sad

I used to play it
Heart wrenching
Romantic but sad
He left

Heart wrenching
He recognized
He left
Moonlight Sonata.


The next few days passed without incident at the house. I started to feel restless though and decided to take a walk in the woods. Maybe I wouldn’t think about her there. Before I left I took my sketchbook, watercolor paints, and pencil. I hollered a good bye to the quiet house and closed the pristine white door with a thump. I wandered down the drive and then down the little path leading further into the forest. It was sunny although the light had a green tint to it because of the dense trees overhead. I paused to sketch a beam of sunlight landing on a violet surrounded by the trees. I let my mind wander as I drew the scene with quick precise strokes. I finished and looked at my work. I cried out as I saw what I had drawn. Very faintly in the background, a woman with a long dress was fleeing behind a tree. The woman had long black hair, green eyes….the woman was Sabrina! I crumpled up the drawing and stuffed it in my pocket. I glanced around nervously and moved on. Wood Lilly Place was stressing me out and making me imagine things. After that, I decided to go back to the house. I’d had my fill of fresh air for the day.
I set my crumpled sketch on the table by the door and sat down. All of the sudden, Mrs. Colston appeared from the shadowy corner of the room. She walked over to the table by the door and smoothed out the drawing. Her eyes widened and filled with tears. Her horrified face quickly turned angry.
“What do you think you’re doing, drawing things like that? You won’t do foolish things like this in my home.” She exclaimed. Then she lowered her voice and murmured dangerously, “This has been very hard for us. You’ll not go flaunting Sabrina like that anymore.” She seemed to think for a moment and then whispered, “I keep her room under lock and key but if you’d like, I’ll show it to you. Maybe one day when it’s just you and me. Mr. Colston doesn’t like me going in there and your parents may feel uneasy about it.” She backed away and I slowly climbed up to my room. I had a lot of thinking to do.

Sabrina
*****
Like I’m watching life though a window
I can’t break through
I’ve been erased
No attention paid
To a dead girl.


I was almost certain that Mrs. Colston had gone insane. She winked at me whenever I walked by and that evening a key with a yellow silk tassel on it was lying on my bedside table. She tried to act normal, like everything was okay with the adults. But, I could see the insanity in her eyes. I could see her hands shake under the table and I noticed how she talked to the servants. As if she was constantly threatening them.
I went for three days without thinking of lovely Sabrina. Three bland, routine days before she entered my mind. I thought that maybe if I visited her, I would be rid of all the ghastly imaginings and memories. I left before anyone other than the hired help was awake. I saddled one of Mr. Colston’s stallions and picked a small bouquet of violets and roses. I rode surrounded by trees. It was foggy and chills ran down my spine. I rode for about a mile before I came to the Colston family graveyard. I wandered through the overgrown headstones until I reached one with flowers and a pen carved into it. It read,

Sabrina Colston
May 17, 1831-January 12, 1848
In our hearts forever

I laid the bouquet down on her grave and wished that she was here with me, not stuck in the damp ground. I let tears flow freely now. I missed Sabrina so much. She hadn’t deserved to die. She was my one love and seeing her had been my salvation. Now, my life was pointless.
I remember the day that Sabrina died. I had been there. She’d been ill for a month. No one knew the cause or even the illness. She’d told me to come back, no matter what and then she’d died. Her face had looked like it had when she was well and she’d only looked like she was sleeping. Even now in Wood Lilly Place, it seemed like she’d gone on a trip and would be back. Her presence never left. She was always there.

Sabrina
*****
I try to get them to realize
They’re so clueless
Mother’s crazy
Father’s like a stone
Henry is heartbroken
I’m alone

Dream Jobs

After homework, I decided to look for some volunteer jobs I could do this summer. I found a couple and wanted to share them with you all. I'm posting links just in case you want to check them out for whatever reason.

1. Denver Public Library Teen Volunteer!
http://teens.denverlibrary.org/involved/volunteer.html

2.Medicine Horse Program Volunteer! (since I am under 18, I need to volunteer with an adult. Anyone interested? :) I can deal with being a mucker as long as I'm around horses. My fantasy is to help turn out the horses to pasture.
http://www.medicinehorse.org/volunteer.html

That's kind of all I have so far but they sound really fun for volunteer service hours this summer!!

Braces

Before

After

And So It Begins...

Today I'm going to get the bands on for my space keeper. My popcorn eating days are now over for two years. It's bittersweet I guess. I like popcorn and I'm sad that I won't be able to eat it but I'm looking forward to having awesome straight teeth! Hopefully I won't be like Lauren was. When she got her braces off as soon as she saw me she whispered, "I look like a person that would steal candy from babies." My goal is not to look like one of those. And so my orthodontic journey begins.

Update:
Nevermind, my bad. I guess they were just taking molds with the little bands on. As soon as she got the molds done, she ripped those bands right off. Good riddance too. They were hurting my cheeks. So now, I'm getting everything on next Tuesday. One more week of popcorn eating, yay!!!!

I Hate To Admit It But... (And Other News)

I'm feeling just a little bit loser-ish. This week has been busy. The Geography Bee on Tuesday, Spelling Bee Wednesday. I bombed the Geobee and my losing word was allocation. I'll never forget how to spell that. On the bright side, I beat a couple of my friends and made it to the sixth or seventh round? Just thought I'd update everyone on that. In other news, I had an orthodontist appt. on Monday. Next Monday I'm getting a weird mechanism called a space keeper (or something or other) and on the 24, I'm getting braces. I'll post pics of my new smile but, you may have to remind me. And lastly, I'm entering a writing contest to win an all expense paid trip to the premiere of The Hunger Games!! The story had to be about a future gone horribly wrong and had to include what your dystopian world looked like, when the society developed, how its laws affect its people, and where your character fits in all crammed into four pages. Miraculously, I just made it. So that's all for today.