Gazing at the plain darkness of the clouds, my gut tells me something big is coming.
“These clouds are most likely holding a storm, my grandson.”
The sound of my grandfather's voice draws my attention from the worsening dark skies. The road is deserted as my grandpa’s grey Lincoln speeds at eighty miles per hour down route twenty-four. It is about four o’clock in the afternoon. The Red Sox are on the radio, I increase the volume as David Ortiz prepares for his at bat. Knowing this would be something worth my attention. A loud rumble of thunder jolts me in my seat. My ears started to ring a little. Rain begins to beat down, so hard you could not see five feet in front of you. I tighten my seatbelt as we take the exit towards route four-ninety-five.
We arrive at the Sports Center at around five. Forty minutes before my spring hockey game. I run into the arena, my hockey bag slung over my shoulder and stick in my hand. I am soaked as I reach the door, ten feet from the car.
I am soaked again as I leave the arena. Sweat drips down my face, which is now red because I had given my full effort on the ice.. My grandfather and I run to the car, I throw my stuff in the trunk and get in. The abandoned back roads of Foxboro are soaked with the rain seeming to never end. I am staring into space, listening to the vague sounds of the windshield wipers as they pace back and forth rather quickly.
BOOM! BOOM! CRACK! the thunder continues to rumble. Suddenly, there is a blinding flash of light. Grandpa slams the breaks. Little did I realize, I had nearly been struck by lightning. For a few minutes, I am in shock. Eventually I regain understanding of my surroundings and discover that I am home. I thank my grandpa for the ride and run inside. The power is out. The darkness is an advantage to me though. I remove my hearing aids, take a shower, then go to sleep. The silence and darkness is soothing.
#2
As we sit side by side, all of us together, we look back at all the remarkable memories we made this past summer. When it started, we barely had any knowledge of one another's existence; But now, as we prepare to leave Lake Petersen, we are the best of friends. Over these past two months, the realities of our lives were washed away with waves. It was no longer important where we came from, what we left behind, or who we were before we arrived. All that mattered was a whole summer away from the stress of everyday life. As we talk on and on about what the future holds, we all take a moment to think, a moment to reflect, as we gaze off at the beautiful sunset on the horizon.
I had just turned twenty one a week before I made the trip down to Lake Petersen. I needed a break. I needed a break from college, my divorced parents, just life in its entirety. I take a sharp right turn, driving my crappy ‘98 Chevy Silverado into a bumpy driveway, which leads me to my parents lake house. I had not been here since I was in elementary school. The chipped, brown and yellow shingles are hanging on their final nails, the door is busted and requires a body-check to open. Inside it is not much better.
For the first couple of days at the lake, I just sat around the house, got some much needed sleep, and did some fishing. About a week into the summer, I decided to take the boat out for a ride. I power up the motor and set out on the lake. The wind blows in my face slinging my long hair back. After driving for a while, I see a group of girls playing volleyball on the shore about four-hundred yards in front of me. I drive my boat up close to the shore, and ask to join their game. These girls seemed cool, they allowed me to join. About two hours later, two more guys arrive, on their own boats. The nine of us eventually sat down around Megan's fire pit, yes I learned her name, and we got to know each other. The two other guys names were Jack and Alex. Jack was a twenty-two year old from Michigan, while Alex was a twenty-one year old from Kansas. The two of them had met when they first arrived at the lake a few days ago. The four girls, Megan, Ally, Rachel and Brooke had all been friends since childhood. They were from Tallahassee, Florida, which confused me because they all lacked a southern accent. All of us were here for the same reason, to escape reality. We all enjoyed the rest of the summer together, we hung out on our boats, played volleyball, went to the fair, and even threw a party. It was clearly the best summer ever.
The memories that we had this summer will live on forever. And now as we sit here on the dock, mourning the fact that is our final night her at the lake. We promise that we will always stay in touch. And tell of coming back next year. Though we all know the chances are slim of that. After discussing the future, all stood up and jumped off the dock, we don’t know why we did it, but we did.
#3
As slight breeze tickles my face as I approach the intersection of Parsons and Padelford. I seize motion in front of the stop sign, awaiting the arrival of the bus. Personally, I’m not excited for my first day.. I feel a slight pain in my chest, stress is building up inside me. Will I succeed, or will I fail. The little voices in my head tell me failure is on the horizon. Which doesn’t make anything better. As the bus turns the corner onto my street, I prepare myself to board. The door swings open and I enter, taking the first empty seat I see. I am quiet the whole ride their.
My school looks bigger than I remember, and but the incoming freshman make me feel a little less small. I remember what it was like to be a freshman. You walk into school on your first day, all bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready to take the next step towards becoming an adult. But now that I am a sophomore, I feel a little less excited. Thoughts rush through my head like cars on a race track, the idea of taking MCAS tests that determine whether I graduate makes me sick to my stomach. But I manage to survive first period without throwing up.
Next period is my honors English class. All summer I would lay awake at night, trembling at the thought of taking such an advanced class. I take a deep breathe, and enter the class. I am greeted by who I assume to be my teacher. Her smile is as bright as the morning sun. In fact, it slightly blinded me. I sit in my assigned seat. On my right, is a brown-haired girl I’ve never met before, on my right, a boy I had classes with the previous year. I am strangely comfortable in a seat I’ve never sat in before. The class is surprisingly basic. Of course, I expect to be balling in sadness within a few weeks when reality kicks in and I realize the class is actually hard. But as of now, I am calm.
The rest of the day is a blur, I occasionally doze of from exhaustion, but come back at the sound of a teacher's voice. I exit the building at approximately 1:45 pm. The cool and crisp air of the bus awakes me a bit as I buckle my seatbelt. Within the hour, I return to the stop sign. One day down, one hundred and seventy-nine more to go.
#4 (For test grading and contest)
The silence is bliss, I sit for a moment to relax. Only hearing the soft sound of my breathing. I am alone, peering over my shoulder, the base of the mountain is hundreds of feet below. There is no turning back now. I reach the top, pulling myself up as onto a flat mountaintop. Pulling my backpack from my shoulders, I unzip the front pocket. Inside is a small plastic bag. Within is two pieces of bread, between them, lies ham with swiss cheese. I open my mouth and take a massive bite.
The sun is beginning to descend over the horizon. I have a tent and fire set by the time sunlight has retired to night. I sit before a war fire, the stars are beautifully aligned on this particular evening. I am feeling sleepy before the fire begins to dim down. I pace slowly over to the tent, once I am inside, I pull the zipper, closing the door with a high pitched screeching sound. My eyes begin to feel heavy, slowly shutting, marking the end of a successful day on the mountain.
My eyes open to a flash of sunlight. The zipper makes yet another agonizing sound as I open the door to the outside world, another gorgeous day is ahead. I am packed and on the move within the hour. Walking rather fast, I reach the cliff rather quickly. I look to my left, the open skyline has barely any clouds, a group of birds fly overhead, most likely looking for food. I look to my left, and I see a tree, an old tree, leaning over the mountainside. I put some weight on its branches to test strength. It is indeed strong enough to hold me.
After attaching my rope and harness to the tree and placing it on my body, I begin my descent down the mountain. I then hear a deadly sound, Crack, crack, crack. The branch had given up, I plunge towards the ground watching as the gorgeous mountainside scenery whooshes by me faster than a the speed of light. I close my eyes, but this time not to sleep, but to….. CRASH!
#5 (For a test grade and contest)
I am the worst person on the face of the earth. It is the middle of January, my kids and I sit, wrapped in old and moldy blankets, counting change. I have not eaten in a month, my kids, have not eaten in a few weeks. Every time I gather enough change from the sidewalk to make a dollar, I walk down to the convenience store, and buy two twinkies, for ninety-nine cents. I usually do not get any of it, because my kids are the first priority when it comes to food.
The three of us sit here, in our alley, freezing down to our bones, staring at the small pile of change before us. Just one penny, will give us enough for our twinkies, one penny. My daughter is falling asleep, or is she passing out? I am very scared now. I stand on my two feet, grab the change, and begin to slowly pace towards the convenience store. I enter the main street.
The cold winter air stings my face as I walk ever so slowly. I am beginning to feel faint. I am scanning the area for one single penny. Soon I see it, sitting there in the corner of a doorstep. My arm emerges from the blankets and reaches out to grab the penny.
“Finally!” I am crying tears of joy.
I arrive at the convenience store a few minutes later. The space heaters feel like heaven to me as I approach the cashier with two twinkies. I hand the short man with a beard my ninety nine cents. He counts the money and prints a receipt. I feel so happy in that moment.
But, when I returned to our alley, my kids lay their, stiff as wood. Their lifeless eyes confirmed my theory. They were gone. I begin to weep. Eventually I opened up the twinkies and chewed. It was the worst tasting meal I’d ever had.
#6
EEEEE! EEEEE! EEEEE!
I am woken by the dreadful sound of my alarm clock. It’s an average Monday morning, I’m exhausted and don’t want to attend school. Everything is a blur as I prepare for the day, a hot shower, teeth brushing, and putting on clothes. I am in my car fifteen minutes after I wake up, which I believe is a new record for me. My arm is numb as I reach for the gas pedal, I put the car in reverse and back out of my long, curved driveway.
Within five minutes I am before a speaker, I request a hot one this morning, which felt weird to me considering it was spring. But regardless, I complete the order and drive up to the window. There it was, waiting for me, steaming hot, bursting with flavor. It is in this moment I realize why it is called the juice of the gods. A rather pretty girl hands me my cup. The styrofoam warms my hands in the crisp spring air. I pay the necessary price and drive off.
As I take my first sip, my spirit awakens, I begin to feel an overwhelming amount of joy, I have a smile as wide as my face. Once I arrive at school, everything is peaceful. I feel, awake. Classes go smoothly that monday morning, I am focused and energized throughout the day. But I could not have done it without you, my morning coffee.
