Give Me A Reason

Give Me A Reason

By Ariana Eshraghi

The stars twinkle merrily, sending the city a spotlight,

Billions of golden, shining beams giving me a reason to smile.

The moon glows quietly, covering the sun in silvery smoothness,

One, shining, silver coin giving me a reason to cry.

The sun rises past the mountains, bathing them in a fierce light,

A fiery ball of blinding, burning gold giving me a reason to hope.

The sky, so vast it reflects the land, a peaceful tranquil blue,

A shadow of love, so pure and sweet,

It gives me a reason to love.

Wild Survivors

Sally and Max ran from home to live in the wild. They built their home on a quiet meadow, far away from the city. They dug up some dirt and mixed it up with clay from a nearby river, sun baking it into blocks. These were called adobe, invented by native Americans long ago. The two friends had learned that in social studies class before they decided to leave. “It will be useful for the wild,” Sally said to Max at the beginning of the Indian unit. Max had been eager to get going. But Sally wanted to learn about how the Indians survived in the wild. Maybe, she thought, they could make a tribe of their own using a combination of all the past tribes’ cultures. Max liked the idea so they started out with adobe-brick houses. They also grew a garden of good vegetables and gathered wood from the nearby forest in case they would have to travel fast from predators or other hostile creatures. Then they made a schedule on huge bush leaves, scratching in the words with Max’s sharp stone, found at the river. Sally woke up early to smear mud on herself to look Indian-y and repel the bugs  before gathering firewood and herbs. All day after that, she would  weave their clothing from other huge leaves and the long, wavy grass that grew in the meadow. Her old cloths from her house were used as wash cloths and were far too dirty to be worn again.

Max woke up at exactly the same time as his friend and set out to hunt. While looking for game, and possibly some fresh, tasty, wild berries, he would gather freshwater from the river and gather huge tree branches in case he and Sally would ever face the prospect of running away. He also sharpened his rock on other rocks and carried huge, jagged boulders back to Camp. He and his friend were currently working on building a big stone wall around their space. It would mark their territory and, if it came to fighting predators such as wild wolves, they could simply hurl rocks while being protected by their structure. Today, Max found the perfect boulder. He dutifully picked it up along with today’s hunt-three squirrels, a couple of defense stones, and his own sharp rock.

Max had found his rock when he first explored the area with Sally. He had tripped near the river and fallen. He hadn’t been seriously injured but he had a deep wound from the rock. Amazed more than in pain, he had picked up the rock and called it his own. With enough patience and good enough stones for sharpening, he now had an even sharper, even more dangerous rock for defense.

Sally pulled out weeds. Instead of throwing them out, she took the greenest stalks and blew on them. The weeds made a sound kind of like a duck, but an animal responded. The animal was a sheep named Snowstorm. Her coat was grey and her kind was rare. Sally began clipping her fur with wooden sheers, tipped with stone. The sheep responded by baying and walking away. Sally let her go. Snowstorm was a free spirit, and was not meant to be cooped up in some kind of farm.

Sally started sawing at a tree, using a stone ax Max had stolen from his father when they escaped, until she found a piece of rope buried in the ground. Confused, she stuffed it in her pocket. Then she wandered a little farther into the wood. Sure, why not? The more you explore, the more you discover, right? She passed through the dense greenery and emerged on the other side, which was packed with snow. She couldn’t believe her eyes.

   Rearing on its muscular hind legs was a brilliant white horse. Its coat gleamed in the sunlight and its eyes were glassy, black pearls of intelligence. The horse snorted, and Sally knew he was getting ready to bolt. She had to act fast if he were to be hers. How amazed Max would be! Even if the occasional stallion trotted around their house, they never managed to capture it. It wasn’t worth it anyway.

Sally had no idea how to capture such a beauty, though. All she had was a flimsy piece of twine and an ax, which she doubted the stallion would take kindly to. She used the weeds she picked up earlier and threw them at the horse. He snorted suspiciously, pawing the snow, sending ice flying in every direction.

Smiles

The world is like a mirror. If you face it smiling, it smiles right back.☺

I wanted to start my post with that quote from Poem Graphic #66

www.desicomments.com | this website.

I would like to teach you something about computer graphics, today. I learned this from my friend, Rachel. If you are wondering what computer graphics have to do with smiling, I will get to that in a moment.

There may not be one on every keyboard, but if you look closely, you may see a number keypad on yours. On the keyboard below, the keypad is to the right, with big numbers, next to the vertical ENTER key. Have you noticed all my recent posts have smiley faces? Not regular ones like “;)” but ones like “☺”? If not, click on the RECENT POSTS tab. If so, you have just seen a glimpse of what I will teach you.

 

 

The keyboard picture source is: http://www.foreignlanguagekeyboard.com/images/Large%20Print%20Keyboard%20White%20on%20Black.jpg

 

If you press and hold the ALT key, in this case to the left of the space bar (long bar in the middle) and then press any key on the keypad, you will come up with little images such as:

You can even type double-digits (to create letters) and triple-digits:

§

{

±

^

Try some combinations of your own in the comments below!☺☻☺☻☺☻☺☻☺☻☺

 

Note: I do not think this works with macs for all you mac people.

 

 

 

My Stories

Here are some feedback questions for my pieces. When you comment, consider answering the questions that follow based on each story I have posted on this blog. Refer to the stories if you need to.

This feedback paper refers to Moonlight at the Beach, The Three Unicorns, and Burning ice. Pick letter choices for each individual story.

1. What do you think of the title of each of the stories?

a) The titles do not match the writing at all. What I expected from [this] piece is not what was shown. The title was not well-thought and the author did not spend enough time thinking of an appropriate choice.

b) The title was O.K and fit the story, but it could have been better. It is appropriate for the piece but poorly chosen. I think the author should at least rethink of a better title suited for this piece.

c) The title is perfect for this writing. It brings out the tone and mood of the piece. It was well-thought out and cleverly chosen. I recommend the author not change the title.

d) None of the above. I have my own opinion:_________________________________________________________________________________________________.

2. What do you think of the ending of this piece? Does it really leave you yearning for more or is it brief and boring?

a) The ending was not very cleverly written. When it ended, I did not wonder about the cliffhanger, if there was any. It was a bad way to end a piece like that. I strongly advise the author to revise the whole ending from paragraph number ___ to paragraph number ___.

b) The ending left me thinking about it, but did not affect me as much as it could. Weak ending and minimum signs of making the reader think about what she or he just read. I suggest the author think about editing some sections.

c) FANTASTIC! The cliffhanger, if there was one, left me wondering about what happened. If there wasn’t one, the end paragraph(s) is beautifully written and I wouldn’t tire if asked to read the last section again.

d) None of the above. I have my own opinion:_________________________________________________________________________________________________.

3. How good is the story itself?

a)  Poorly written and very bad. The hook did not capture my attention and the story did not make sense. The cliffhanger, if there was any, was weak and I strongly advise you revise the whole piece.

b) There are very few grammatical mistakes and I do not like some of the writing, but overall, it was good.

c) Everything is nearly perfect or very perfect. The words are carefully chosen and very colorful. Wouldn’t change anything.

4. Check every dot that is true in your opinion.

  • I love this story.
  • I dislike this story.
  • This story affects me
  • This story brings me to tears.
  • This story teaches a lesson.

Thanks for giving me your opinion!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Eragon

I was looking at my posts the other day and was absolutely delighted when I found my I Am Number Four book review had gotten many comments, all of them compliments, and some of them saying how the person had read the book and loved it. Thank you to all my viewers who commented! You have inspired me to make another post on another of my favorites. This series is one I am currently reading, so please don’t spoil if you have already read it!

But first thing’s first. To all of you I Am Number Four fans, the new book, Fall of Five, has just come out! I haven’t read it yet because it has been checked out at the library and there are no copies left, but I know someone who has and I know it’s very good! Again if you are one of those early-readers who buy new books the day they come out, please don’t spoil anything!

Now for my recommendation. The Eragon series is very good. It is about dragons and dragon riders who fight Shades, who are people who have summoned spirits that have consumed them. I don’t recommend this book to anyone who does not like deaths in books. There is a couple within the whole series, and I have already read a few, even though I’m only on the second book! For those of you who love action however, this book is not some fairy-fantasy tale. The books are around 400 pages long, but they are so good, anyone who doesn’t like reading would get pulled through them. Also, if you have read the I Am Number Four series, you would probably like

Burning Ice

In my other post, Moonlight at the Beach, I described the exuberant sensation of soothing water at the beach, on a full-moon night. I described the senses of the waves. I was not expecting it, but I did receive a comment! I, as a writer, love writing. Last time I was itching to write about short stories like The Three Unicorns. Then, after that, I had a deep interest in sensations like in Moonlight at the Beach. Now I will continue that route by describing to you the horrible feeling of being freezing, and end on a happier note. I highly encourage you to get cozy and warm before reading this and please don’t drink or eat anything cold.

Imagine…

A dark figure looms above you. Darkness rolls off of its billowing cloak and you can not see any features of its face except for its golden cruel eyes. “Youuuuu,” it hisses with acid. “You…will…pay…” You squeak in alarm and try to move but shadowy tendrils seep out and hold you fast. Their grip is solid iron and very strong for shadows. You are immobilized in fear.

The figure laughs quietly. Its shape is a mass of swirling gloom, changing and molding and overlapping each other. The dark creature narrows its eyes and they start pulsing red. Shadowy tendrils dart from its body.Your heart quickens but you are transfixed in the monsters burning glare. The eyes slowly grow bigger until all you can see is two burning coals that seem to roll off fury in waves so strong, you can barely save yourself from toppling over.

You wake up in a winter misery land. The lush snow behind you fall in clumps. Your clothing is damp, thin , and cold. Your shoes are already sinking in snow. You breathe raggedly and they puff out like miniature clouds. You stagger to a hump and scoop it up, sucking meekly at the ice. It only seems to make your throat drier than it already is.  You clutch at your neck now as night falls. You look up at the twilight sky, gazing at the stars. There is a supernatural silence in the air that makes your breathing sound like blizzards. Things hiss, snarl, and grow around you. Something thumps near. But when you look at the stars, tiny glowing orbs, your fear goes away.

It seems like minutes even though it is actually hours going by when you stare at the dark sky. Everything around you goes quiet, even the heavy breathing of darkness. It is a calming quiet, the peaceful one of sleep. Suddenly, there is a breeze, and you hear whispers on the air. You tense, ready to run if needed, but there are no creatures out there.

You hear it again, louder, sweet murmurings that float past your ears, barely out of reach. You notice warmth spreading throughout your body. The claws of hunger and thirst have stopped scratching.

Then, silence.

You hear it softly at first, three pure notes in usion. They are the sweetest sounds you have heard. The melody continues, the hum filling the air around you with joy. Monsters scuffle away, growling. One of the floating voices laugh, a tinkling sound, like tiny bells. The air all around you is so light and happy, you can almost see the light. The melody continues to drift all around you and the darkness darts away, as if allergic.

The song ends with flourish, one high note sounding before they vanish. The sun comes up, and the scene begins to change. The hump you attempted to drink from brightens into the color of your bed covers and the snow surrounding you gets revived of color. The sun leaks through your window, bathing you in gold. But you can still listen to that ending pitch of the beautiful song, almost recognize it. Then you do recognize it.

It was hope.