December 6, 2012
Writing on Writing

Basically, ROSE is a story of a DEA agent who is on the search for a serial killer, nicknamed “The Wolf” who lures women into meeting him up for an experimental synthetic drug. After having an argument with his wife, he goes out back into the street to search this killer since he was first brought into the case, some year back. Little does he know he saves a victim from The Wolf and realizes, with her helo, they can find the man he’s been searching for and hopefully find the missing woman last seen by him.

Writing on writing is something completely different. It can either mean what does writing do for some people, or how can writing be cut down and be easier for others. In gerneral, writing is used for many different purposes. One simple way for people to intrepet and understand writing is throughout. 

December 6, 2012
Writing on Writing: Rose

           As the cold water hit the windshield, it produced an intense cold shiver that filled the entire car. The hairs on my arm rose up since the two hours I have been waiting; waiting inside my undercover car. As the soft sounds of drops engulf the backdrop of the inner city, I close my eyes hoping I did not receive a phone call. Just as I thought I had won by escaping away from home; from the yelling and ignorance that seemed to hold my marriage together, the thing I was dreading the most came true.
My cell began vibrating. It continued to vibrate for a while, hoping that if I wait just a little bit longer, the call would die out. But it did not. Impatient, I answered the phone.
“You went out again, didn’t you?”
“Honey, you know how close I am on this case. Look, I figured… maybe if I went out tonight, there could be some possible clue as to where his whereabouts are.”
“It’s two in the fucking morning. I’m pretty sure drug lords sleep too. Listen, if you want to use your career as an excuse to run away from our problems, that’s fine. But don’t you ever do it again!”
“Do what?”
“Walk out on me.”
My hands become weak, fearing the worst is yet to come. There, I sat alone in my cold car, having a marriage crisis conversation, with my wife. I knew she was struggling with the next few sentences that were ready to come out of her mouth; she was worried and scared, like I was. After a few seconds of dead silence, she took a deep breath.
“I really want this…what we have…to work out. I honestly feel more dedicated to this marriage than you. I’m sorry, but if you weren’t going to, then I just had to say it. Lately, you’ve been more dedicated to your so-called “Wolf” case, and don’t get me wrong, I want you to get the bad guy, but I never would have expected you to bring your job back home with you. Work….work….work is all you ever do.”
“And I want to make this work too. I’m dedicated to my job, and if I’m being punished for doing what I love, then so be it. You can think all you want, but I want you….or I still want you to know that I will, and always, love you…..regardless of my job.”
After a few longer seconds of silence, she began to speak. Her tone transitioned from angry, to a softer, more upset tone.
“Look, its late and I don’t want to discuss this issue any further over the phone.”
“I’m sorry”
“Well me too. I arranged a meeting this Monday, so you”ll have all weekend to deal with your case.”
“So just like that?”
“Unfortunately, yes. I wanted to wait after the weekend to do this, so I’m giving you this time to work and think about whether or not you still want to be in this.
“Kate, wait!”
           Before I was able to reply to her back, she was gone. I was left pondering, what the future will hold for us. I just hoped she understands how close I am; close to getting this guy. Yet, at the same time, I want her to know I am willing to fight for her. Hours ago, I ran out from an argument with her. My best and only intention is to avoid any confrontation. Personally, I believe that if an argument goes to the length it went, like tonight, is for me to run.
           Ten minutes after the phone call, the rain began to pour harder. Every droplet began to fall more powerful, as the impacts on the roof of my black Suburban sounded like I was under heavy fire. It soon became a noise that I grew accustomed to, like white noise where after a while it begins to fade in the background of the mind. I had told myself to wait an hour before going back home; to give enough time for my wife to relax or simply solve each argument through sleep, yet somehow I knew she would be asleep by now.
As I was ready to put the keys into the ignition, from the corner of my peripheral, I see a woman, just simply walking in the heavy reign of water. Through the blur and fuzz from the rain, she holds up a red umbrella. There was something quite intriguing about her; the way she gracefully danced, through her walking, in the rain, wearing heels and sporting a black long pea coat, the way how the environment around her was so chaotic, yet she seemed so quiet in the distance. I was parked on the opposite side of the street, hiding inside my huge black Suburban, waiting for her to pass on by. I looked at my watch; it read “2:11 a.m.” and I thought to myself what is she doing out this late and in the rain?
In this night full of shades of grays and dark blues, her red umbrella was the only thing alive in this dark world. I waited for her next move, even though she continued to walk up the street. Maybe she lives nearby or maybe she just went for a nightly walk? Regardless, her actions at this time, seemed off, yet I could not keep my eyes off of her and her red umbrella. As she continued up the street, she made a sudden stop. I thought this was going to be the moment where I was going to get caught red handed. My first instinct was to duck down; below my dashboard. Shit, she caught me. Fuck. But, she did not. She was just, looking around, almost as if anyone was watching her, which in reality she was. I then knew I was in the clear. After he quick looking-around-to-see-if-anyone-sees-me, she made a left turn. That’s when I knew she was up to no good. She had made a left turn into a dark alley way; an alley way with a dead end as a fence.
I looked at my watch once again and started to time her. If she was not back on the street in less than 5 minutes, I was looking at a potential suspect. At2:13I started. I grew impatient hoping that she was not one of those people. The rain did not help in the wait game process. As the clock was ticking, I was staring at the corner leading into the alley, hoping that this mysterious woman with the red umbrella would come out soon. But as I continued to wait, that is when I heard it. A scream; a blood-curling scream that was meant to be heard.
I thought it was some twisted joke, hoping that the entire time she knew I was watching her like a hawk, only for the joke to be on me; a lesson to be taught about spying on others. But the screams for help did not stop. Without a second to think, I grabbed my gun and small black flashlight from the glove compartment, and ran out into ran, hoping it was not too late to save the woman with the red umbrella.
I ran as fast I could, almost slipping in the process. The gravel surface was slick from all the rain water. My vision becomes impaired as the storm continues to brew, and not even the panic reflection of my flashlight hitting the ground helped. I get to the corner of the alley, placing my back against the wall, and prepare to use my firearm. I count to three in my head. 1…2…3.
As I count to three, I quickly rushed in the dark alley way. I flash my light beforehand to get a good view, switch from angles to get a good view. To my shock I saw no one. Nothing. The sounds of water droplets engulfed the air. The sight of unanimous amounts of aluminum trash cans and a dumper caught my view. The soles of my shoes began to cool down; become cold as I ice. Before I knew it, my socks began to soak up. I looked at my feet to notice a huge puddle had been created from all the rainfall. I followed the puddle that was created by a river. I followed the alley’s river up, with my flashlight and notice a shiny grey fence. It had to be at least8 feet tall.
No one could climb up that fast…I mean I ran as fast as I could. As I continued to look around the alley way for any possible methods of escape, the thought of the woman with the red umbrella finally came back to my mind. I was so caught up in the containment of the bad guy that I had completely forgotten about her well being. Then I hurt a caught and a simple whisper. Help… me. I flashed my light at the foot of the forest green dumpster. There I saw her heels, with one foot missing its heel. I walked up to the foot and saw a small river building at the soles; the river began running blood. I rushed and flashed my light, still holding my gun in the process. Then I saw her; her pale white face, those beautiful eyes I’ve never seen, and the damaged red umbrella right by her side.  She was sitting down; begging for mercy. Maybe she thought I was dangerous? She held up her right hand, assuming I was going to shoot her. And that’s when I saw she was hurt. She had her right arm entirely exposing a huge slash, reaching from almost the bottom of her wrist to the end of her elbow. It was apparent, but not deep. Her pea coat was also damaged. Blood was running down her arm, as a result from the rain. I lowered my firearm. She stood there, as well as me, heavily breathing, knowing she was now in safe hands.
“Where are you?”
“I came back to check up on her”
“Third time this week, right?”
“Any change”
“Well it looks like she responding, but for now, she’s resting.”
“And what have the police said?”
“Well I can’t say much, but no luck so far. She must be scared though.”
“Well I’m glad you were there when it happened. I know over the weekend I said some things that were….a little difficult to hear.”
“Look, now is not the time. I don’t want to talk…”
“No I wasn’t planning on having this talk right now. I just want to say that you take your time with this case. Help her come back to society. I just…want you to help her.
“Thanks. I really appreciate it.”
“Yeah, I still want to have that meeting though.”
“Don’t worry, I do too.”
“Okay…good. Hey.”
“I love you David”
“Love you too, Sarah. Hey the doctor just came out.”
“Its fine…go ahead.”
“I’ll be home soon.”
“Okay… bye.”
As I ended my decent conversation with my wife; a conversation without her yelling at other end of the connection, the sounds of the doctor’s shoes became louder as he approached me. I looked up and noticed it was a different gentleman. From earlier reports, there were several doctors working on her case.
“Agent David Harris. Did I get that right?”
“Ok. Good”
As I responded to the doctor’s question, he was trying to balance a conversation, while holding a clipboard.
“It appears Ms. Adrianna Hernandez is requesting for your presence.”
“Yes. She asked quite specifically for you… and just you.”
“Ok. Uhm… quick question. How did you…”
The doctor casually laughs.
“The shoes. Not many visitors of hers wear shoes as nice as yours. Us professionals, ‘ya know?”
“Yes. Most of them look like trouble.”
The doctor casually laughs, once again. Ignoring my question, he quickly goes back.
“Relax. Your badge did. It’s exposed.’
“Oh… right”
“You’re more than welcomed to go see her now. She’s expecting you.”
After the brief conversation, the doctor led me into Adriana’s room. The halls of the hospital smelled of rubbing alcohol and latex; typical odors of cleanliness. As I was near the open door, the doctor made a hand gesture to show me the way. As soon as I walked in, he walked away; he probably had other patients to attend. I walked in to an empty room. There were no flowers, no balloons, or cards in sight. The room was poorly lit. The only light available was the one located directly above here. I slowly knew I was near, so I was ready to finally see her awake.
Since that early Saturday morning; the night I saved her, I had been seeing her at the hospital for the next three days, including today. For the other two days, she had been resting; never awake to fully see what I look like. Apparently she was awake this time around.
She caught the sight of me as I came closer. She literally took my breath away. She was so beautiful, almost resembling the famous Victoria Secret model, Adriana Lima. Dark long black hair, luscious red lips, with the rare blue eyes.
“And you must be Agent David Harris.”
“How’d you….”
“The shoes.”
“My shoes?…”
“Relax. I overheard your conversation. Actually, it was your badge.”
“I also overheard that as well.”
She smiles and quickly laughs.
“So what brings you back here?”
“Just came by to check up on you. How are you doing?”
“My arm is a little sore, but I’m fine.”
“That’s good to hear. Hey, uhm listen… I was wondering if I can ask you some questions.”
“I already told the police I don’t remember anything.”
“Fear is what keeps us afraid. If we let it control us, then the truth will always be hidden. You can trust me.”
           I noticed that her mood switched from very charming to a more serious tone. I know she was afraid to talk, but I figured, she might help with a recent missing person case.
           “Listen, you can help me save a life. Not to long ago, a woman your age went missing in the same fashion. Almost in the exact same way.”
           It seemed she knew what I was asking. She looked worried, but I knew she wanted help.
           “I dunno.”
           “Listen, I’m working on a case right now and your story could help me find this missing person and the guy responsible.”
           “Fine. But I want all of this confidential.”
           “You have my word”
           She struggled to say her first words; the words of the truth.
           “Okay, well I was looking for some.”
           “Yeah…uhm I dunno if I want to continue.”
           “It’s fine. Don’t worry.”
           “Okay. Yeah I was looking for something; I had been having a hard week. And I found this guy. Said he had some really good stuff and for a decent price.”
           “So you never met this guy?”
           “No. I was given a number from someone. But I don’t remember what they look like or their name. it was just very discreet.”
           “Are you sure you can’t get me that information?”
           “If I had that power, I would have given it to you right before I got to this part. I want you to find the guy who did this to my arm.”
           “Did you see anything that early morning? Like his face?”
           “No. He was hiding behind a dark cloak. Something seemed off though.”
           “what do you mean?”
           “I walked up to him, to make the quick exchange, but he was holding back. He grabbed my arm quickly and he pulled out a blade. And then I screamed. He ran as soon as I did, but the he managed to cut me. I thought no one was going to help. He climbed the fence so fast he was gone before I knew it. And then I sat down, hoping that it was a bad dream. And then you were there.”
           “Anything else?”
           “Yeah, the tip that I got from that person I don’t remember; where to find this guy. They said they called him “The Wolf” or something like that.
           When she said that, I was taken back. I had no words for what to say. Could it be? It has to be a strange coincidence. Or it could be the guy.
“What’s wrong?”
           “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong”
           “I said something didn’t i?”
           I looked up, in pure silence.
           “You know who he is huh? Tell me!”
           “Remember that missing girl I told you about? Well she went to meet a man to, also looking for drugs. The missing girl. She was taken by someone who I believe to be someone called “The Wolf”. You Adrianna… you escaped from a murder.”
           After an hour of talking to Adrianna, I decided that my job was done. The eeriness of the entire conversation. The idea that she escaped from a man, responsible for nine murders; all of which are women. The idea of the man I have been tracking down for a time span of a year. The idea that the woman I saved, was from the man I have been looking for. Everything from now on was going to remain creepy because he was always near me, but for how long?
           As I drove back home in total darkness of theSeattleskies, I kept on wondering what would happen to Adrianna; the one and only remaining survivor of the hands of “The Wolf”. Thoughts would be racing on my mind the entire drive home. Before I knew it I was home.
           Sarah was in the kitchen, preparing for dinner, while I slowly walked up stairs to take a shower.
           “David, is that you? Dinner is almost ready”
           “I’m going to take a shower first.”
           “Well hurry up.”
           I don’t remember the last time I walked like a zombie upstairs. The news is just still so raw for me. I felt nauseous and afraid at the same time. As soon as I climbed the stairs, up to the bedroom, I closed the door behind me, I ran into the bathroom, and threw up inside the toilet. As I continued to throw up, I heard a phone call ringing. It was my cell. I walked from the bathroom to the bed, where my coat was at. I looked at the caller I.D. and it was a number I haven’t seen before, but I noticed it was local.
           “Sorry is this a bad time?”
           “Yeah I’m sorry. I got your number from the desk. I hope that’s fine.”
           “Oh… I meant to leave you my card.”
           “That’s fine. The nurses were kind enough when I checked out.”
           “Oh you left the hospital?”
           “Yeah I had errands to run, plus I feel a lot better. I was tired of those hospital beds anyways. So now I’m home. ”
           “I think you should stay another night, ya know. For your safety.”
           She laughed over the line, but changed the subject so quick.
           “Listen, I didn’t have a chance to thank you; for all you’ve done for me. it’s very sweet.”
           “No you don’t have to do that.”
           “Just call me David.”
           “Okay… David. I just want to say thanks, so in doing so, I was wondering if you would like to go to dinner tomorrow night.”
           When she said that, a pure silence over came me. Was she asking me out?
           “Oh… so your married?”
           “Sorry, I just assumed since you weren’t wearing a ring.”
           “Yeah I take it off.”
           “So you don’t mix your job with your personal life, right?”
           “Well, I guess that’s a no.”
           “Yeah, ill have to pass. Sorry.”
           “Well… uhm… that’s fine. Well I’m off to take a shower. And thanks again. Maybe we can meet again, hopefully we can discuss what happened to me.”
           “Yeah, that will be fine. I have to go.”
           “Yeah. I understand.”
I closed my phone, ending the call. As I got up from sitting on the bed, I stood up and went to the window to close the bind, and get ready for a shower. I turned on the shower and walked back to the bed, to place my phone back in my coat pocket. As I placed it inside, I felt something small, rolling around in there. I pulled out a ring and just played with it, as I waited for the shower to heat up. I placed my wedding ring back on my finger as I headed for the shower.
           “Well you took a long shower.”
           “Its been a long day. Really.”
           “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”
           “You haven’t. It’s fine.”
“I heard you had a phone call. From who?”
           “You heard?”
           “David, just answer the question.”
           “What? Why does it matter, it was just a call from someone.”
           “Just answer the question.”
           “Are you serious?”
           “David, just answer the fucking question.”
           “Are you seeing someone?       
           “Why would you ask that?”
           “I want us to work this out and you have to be honest with me.”
           I could not believe my wife was accusing me of cheating. I guess my job’s passion has finally taken its toll on my relationship with Sarah. I grabbed my plate from the kitchen counter and sat at the dinner table, starting to eat with out her.
           “Are you going to eat?”

           “David, listen to me. I want us to work.”
           “Are you going to eat?”
           “Not until you talk to me.”
           She began to grow impatient, and so did I. I had no more patience in my body. This case has got me stressed; and tonight my wife was going to see. I never realized how irrational and bossy she was. How over the course of ten years of marriage, she has always worn the pants.
           “Can I have one fucking decent meal? Every night is always the same.”
           She had this shocked face, as if she has never seen me this angry before, and she was right. This was a new me coming through, but for all the wrong reasons. I stand up from my chair and walk away from the dinner table. I saw the facial expression she last made before I left, the image will always be replaying in my mind.
I walked upstairs, closed the door behind and went for my coat. I grabbed my phone, pulled it out and redialed the previous number. The dial tone continued and then she picked up.
“Hey do you think dinner can happen tonight?”
I arrived at the location I was told to go; a local favorite of mine. A 24 hour diner. I walked in and there I saw her. More beautiful than ever. I walked up to her booth and I sat down on the opposite end. The waitress noticed me walk in, and attempts to grab a menu. She walks over just as I am about to settle down.
“Can I get you something, David?”
“The usual please.”
“Alrighty, and for you miss?”
“I guess I’m having the usual as well.”
“Ok. Makes it easier for me. oh… uhm… do you mind by me asking”
“Oh yeah sorry, my name is Lauren. I’m family of David’s.”
“oh well, nice to meet you.”
“Well, ill be on my way with the food.”
The waitress walks away, leaving both Adrianna and I alone.
“Wow! Seems like you’re the town’s quarter back or something.”
“And seems you’re a liar.”
“Well we wouldn’t want to have your fans assume anything, would we?”
“I guess you’re right.”
“So why did you change your mind?”
“I had a lot of things building up. I just needed to get out.”
“Your wife?”
“Well I’m sure we can take care of that.”
“What do you mean?”
“How about, we take this meal to-go?”
“And go back to my place.”
“I’m sorry. i can’t”
“No that’s not what I mean. Look there’s some information I can show you, maybe it could help you out with your case.”
“Are you sure you have that information”
“Yes. Save on my computer and everything.”
“Fine. I guess I’ll go.”
“Does your wife know you’re here?”
“Actually no one does. I’m not even supposed to talk to you. It’s this professional code of conduct we keep within the agents.”
“Interesting. So can you tell me what you exactly do?”
“Well, my name is David Harris. I work for the DEA, or Drug Enforcement Agency…and as you’re aware, I have marital issues.”
“Well, my name is Adrianna Hernandez, I’m 28 years old. From Spanish decent. I used to do hard drugs, but after that incident, I stopped.  And I have a tattoo.”
“On my left arm. See, ill show you.
Adrianna grabbed her left sleeve of her jacket, a change from her damaged pea coat. She rolled up the sleeves and showed me.
“See it’s a rose.”
And there I saw. A beautiful rose for a beautiful woman. The rose was drawn backwards. It started from the bottom of her wrist and the stem traveled upwards, but I did not get to see the rest. It was almost located in the same area where her slash was, but on the opposite arm.
“I got it when I was young. I dunno why I chose a rose. I just always thought they were so beautiful, but dangerous because of their thorns. Every rose has its thorns. So how old are you?”
I always thought it was interesting how she has a habit of changing subjects.
“I’m 46 years old.”
“Why is an attractive man having problems with his wife?”
“So, how about that to-go?”
“Why not, you might have something I need.”
“Ok, but I wanna order something else. For my grandmother.”
“You live with your grandmother?”
“No, she lives with me. Its temporary she’s just ill.”
“Ok then.”
“Well, then to grandmother’s house we go.”
After leaving the diner, a fifteen minute drive led us to a nice home.
“Ok, here we are.”
“This is your house?”
“Yeah. It’s cozy. Well let’s go in. the foods getting cold.”
I grabbed my gun from the glove compartment and Adriana noticed.
“Your gun?”
“I never leave without it. You never know.”
“But it’s me.”
“Sorry, it’s a habit. I also wear my bullet-proof vest. I’ve gotten use to it.”
“Ok. Fine. Bring it in.”
           We enter her small house. It was nice and clean. It reminded me of my grandmother’s home, because of some of the small antique items. She asked for me to go inside and I did. I was scared. I thought something was going to happen. I should not even be here. If the agency found out I was talking to her, I could possibly lose my job. And my wife. A divorce would be a guarantee, but I came for a reason for me. I wanted to feel appreciated, something I do not get at home. Adrianna made me feel important. Maybe that’s why I was here. She asked me to come to kitchen. As I entered slowly, she was a waiting for me, with a cup of wine.
“Here’s to you, David. For being my hero that early morning. And because of you, now I decided to stay sober. I hope that with the information I share with you, helps you find the guy who was responsible; responsible for us meeting.”
She hands me the wine. Unsure of what to say or do, I just began drinking the entire wine.
“Thanks. I appreciate it. So where is your grandmother?”
“She’s sleeping in one of the rooms.”
I decided that the relationship between us was evolving further. I decided to switch the topic to make sure it was not coming true.
“So about that information on your computer?”
“Oh right. I’ll be right back with it. It’s on my laptop.”
She walked away. Leaving me standing in the kitchen alone. I walked into the living room and sat down at the couch. I waited and waited. For some reason the house got eerie quiet.
“So how exactly do you have this information?”
“I emailed him. I saved most of the messages. Maybe you guys can track it down?”
“I’m not sure if that’s how it works. Maybe some form of picture or phone number.
No response.
“Adrianna do you need help with your laptop?”
No response. But a few seconds later, I heard a noise coming from one of the rooms. I knew something was not right, so I grabbed my gun. As I began to walk towards the noise, the floorboards beneath my feet squeaked with each step.
I began to panic. Something was not right.
“Adrianna, say something!”
I continued my way from the living room down a narrow hallway, and then my yelling turned into shouts.
Just then, the entire house blacked out. No power. The quietness was creepy and I did not like it. The only sources of light came from the neighboring house. I can tell the power only went out in Adrianna’s home. I continued to move down the narrow hall, my vision began to blur. I began to stumble as my legs began to weaken. As I reach to grab anything in sight, in total darkness, I leaned against the walls of the hallway for support. Before I knew, I collapsed. My eyes began to shutter on and off. And then darkness. I fell asleep.
The ringing of my phone woke me up. As I came to my senses, the phone call ended. I had a sense of nausea as the world before me began to spin still. I knew I was poisoned. I tried to lift myself, but it was harder than I thought. The fall must have taken its toll. I saw my gun right before me too. I must have dropped it when I fell. I reached for it. I stood up and used my phone as a source for light.
I had no idea what was happening.
I continued my way down the hallway, when I heard a noise. It was coming from the room right next to me. I assumed it was the grandmother’s room. I entered slowly, with my gun ready. I opened the door in and quickly checked to see if anyone was there. I saw nothing and no one. As I was about to leave, I heard a noise again, yet this time coming from the closet.
A quick sweat began to form on my forehead. I knew something was wrong. As I had my gun on one hand, while the other one ready to open the closet door, I walked nervously to the door. I grabbed the handle, wet with sweat and turned the knob. Before I could think, I opened it and point the gun in front of me. I saw nothing but darkness. I was sure there was noise coming from there.
I shook my head and turned around and began to walk away. Just then, the entire house power came back on. Now I was on high alert. I grabbed the knob from the main bedroom door and opened it. When I did, that is when I noticed it was too late.
The sound of flesh being pierced was heard. I looked down to my cheat and saw a huge kitchen knife inside my chest. I felt the shock through my entire body. I looked up and then the knife was taken out of my. I fell to the ground. I began to crawl backwards. My chest was in pain. I felt like I could not breathe. A trail of blood was forming at my feet as I crawled away. I ended up collapsing near the closet door. I turned on my back to see her.
She was sporting a sliming cocktail dress; entirely red. Although she stabbed me, she looked ever so beautiful. Adrianna, the woman with the red umbrella, was holding the kitchen knife.
“I think you should have listened to your gut. I knew you didn’t want to come in.”
I still looked at her in shock.
“I’m assuming your confused, right?”
She turns around to the bed and opens up a drawer. She picks up a stack of paper and closes the drawer.
She throws the pile of newspapers and photos.
“The clues you asked for. Funny thing is that the entire time you were looking for me, I have been watching you. I took photos of you. I knew you were looking for me since day one. I just needed a plan to bring you here.”
I look at the photos carefully. I see pictures of me in my black Suburban car, pictures of my wife and I at home, and pictures of me eating at the diner. She had been monitoring me. the newspaper clippings helped. There were a few clippings of the victims that have been murder by “The Wolf’.
As she began to walk towards me, she began to taunt me.
“Oh wait, don’t tell me your scared. Your eyes tell it all. “What big eyes you have!” It’s a quote from my favorite fairy tale, if you haven’t noticed.”
As she continued to get close to me, I remembered I still had my gun. I pulled it up, shaking in my hand. The stab wound got the best of me.
“Well, didn’t we all see this coming? Well, aren’t you going to shoot me? im right fucking here!”
I grabbed my gun with all my strength to stabilize the shoot. I then pulled the trigger and nothing. She messed with my gun.
“Oh don’t worry, remember like you said, you never leave with out your gun… or your bullet-proof vest.”
Just then she rips open her dress and exposes my bullet-proof vest, now on her body.
The noise I heard earlier comes back, and it’s coming from the closet. I turn around, thought difficult and she a woman bounded and gagged inside. It was the woman that went missing not long ago; the one “The Wolf” took. She was scared and so was i.
I turned back at Adrianna. She had the knife point right to her cut wound.
“I can’t believe I did this for you. But hey! It paid off. I got you in the end, didn’t I?”
She then proceeded to move the knife and pointed it towards her rose tattoo.
“Roses; they are so beautiful, but never to be trusted… because every rose, has its thorns.”
Adrianna walks close to my feet, knees down, and shares a passionate kiss with me.
“Your wife’s really fucked up. You seem like a great guy. Too bad my thorns stab.”
Adrianna proceeds to stab me until I died.

December 6, 2012

One thing about revising is that it falls under many categories. It’s not just going back and fixing some things, but a process. A process in which, even after started, you constantly think about over and over again until you finally get the solid structured ideas. You go back and look at what you’ve completed and think, “Maybe I should add this/ take out that.” Revision is a process. For this aspect, I decided to write a poem in the style of a rap. Now, whenever I feel emotional enough, I manipulate my emotions out on paper. Thus rapping comes out. For this, I used an emotion of anger and betrayle to write this poem about a best friend who was going behind my back as a brother. It hits heavy stuff towards the middle portion. When I first wrote it, it was very short and was not intended for expansion. After looking back, then I started writing more, or adding. It became a rap towards the end because the poem goes into a specific flow and beat. Rap and poetry experimenting together produce nice results, but it becomes something else when you revise it. It has to be made sure if it sounds like the rest of the poem.

December 6, 2012
Revision: Broken Chain

I don’t understand why we be at this place,
knowin’ that feeling of being spit on my face
You and I were stuck together like glue,
Every emotion; every time we felt blue
You come and go, as often as you do,
fuck that idea of you being true
You promised the oath of always being by my side
Where were you when I needed you?
Oh yeah I forgot,
I guess it was the time.
I told You, you were going to be main dude
Now we’re a broken chain; ain’t nothing new.
I thought you were different,
Yet you were like all the rest
A game changer perhaps,
Nope, just give the back word “best”
Me feeling alone in this empty world,
while you sit back and relax
“Hey! How about a word?”
Nah? That’s what I thought,
’cause in the end you never have anything to say
Because me in the end,
I’m my only friend ‘til this day.

December 6, 2012

I think its important to establish some sort of narrative when it comes to anything relating to writing. You want the audience to know who they are following, whether it is a character or a the narrator who never gets mentioned, such at the writer of the piece. If not audience and readers alike will be confused. Narrative gives stories or writings a sense of common direction, securing to others that there is a path that they must go in order to get to the end. The readers want to know as much as they can when they go into something. For my piece, I used a personal writing of mines that details my struggle of losing a really close friend of mines. You can tell the beginning, middle, the end, and the tragic aftermath. I wanted people to follow my thoughts about the situation and the pain that I continue to struggle now with it. There is two parts to the narrative. The first is kid of told from the point of view, almost as if they are looking back at the past. The last part continues on with the struggle that they haven’t moved on from. It is deefinitly a deeper writing than most. 

December 6, 2012
Narrative: Freinds? What “Friends”?

Part I

We were two lost children, who happened to find each other by accident. Two lost souls who finally felt the feelings of being found. Then I made a discovery; I needed you too. As days drew out so cold and so dreary, the presence of each other kept us so warm. The stares from outside the window drew speculation, of the world no one else was permitted to pass and see. Only a rare few saw the likes of two individuals who so cohesively went well with similar outlooks, thoughts, behaviors, and common interest. Two individuals who brought their childhoods back whenever they were around. Even silence was their friend. Little did we know, play time would soon come to end. The leaves of fall fell to the cold earth below and the environment and temperature changed, yet we stood strong against the harsh conditions of the world. Now, I find ourselves alone. I am alone again. Outsiders wanted to see us fall, as I was told often. Many times actually, yet still I fought. Fought for something I had been looking for since childhood. “Friends forever?” I say. “Till I die,” I thought. The clock hands have rotated and the span has stretched, yet no matter the distance I will still always think of those times we had. Real life Tod and Copper: The Hound that found me.

Part II

Now, I see for what it actually was. A mire image of what I ideally wanted in a friendship. I wanted one thing, he wanted another. As I soon realized too late, it was nothing but a mirage; a false image of something I thought was true. Those nights where we talked, and confessed our love for each other… meant nothing. I was just a chess piece in this game of “usement”. I wasn’t real. Never was. I sit here feeling stupid with the idea that it was going to last. I even cried over the thought of losing my best friend. I knew flashes of life came crashing down and before I knew it. Silence became my enemy. It was a beautiful thing to be in the same space and no talk. But now… it’s not the same. It became something so dreaded and worse than arguments. But I guess history has a tendency of repeating itself. Maybe in life, my heart was never meant to be shared. I was bound to travel this lonesome road to realize I am alone. I see the Hound that found me… invested in the company of another like thinker. Maybe being friends wasn’t suppose to happen. Maybe it was a way to find out that it wasn’t meant to be. Maybe when we fall, it would lead him to the one friend he truly desired. It sucks to come to the conclusion all those “I love you, man”s and “best friends forever” were nothing more than messages the prince wanted to hear. The masking of the truth of a denial soul. At night, I ponder of the idea that “what if I held back, what if I never said anything, would things still work?” Maybe it was a matter of time before our duo empire soon collapsed. I doubt you ever think of me. I’ve never held anything against you. You were my best friend and that’s all I ever thought of you. My best friend that took almost 20 years to find. We were so close, yet so far.

December 6, 2012

Metaphors broaden the meaning of images, symbols, and abstracts. Metaphors, in their bare-boned nature are tools for creatively distorting our perceptions of everyday things. If a woman’s husband is a pig; we can disagree—he’s obviously a male homosapien. Then this pig image will linger. Pigs are dirty, fat, and pretty useless. We can transfer these characteristics to the male and decide, “hey this guy is kind of gravely loserly—gross and unwilling to work, like a pig.” Although I don’t agree that pigs are awful creatures, they are oftentimes used to describe despicable people. Comparing two things this way is metaphor. Metaphor, again, distorts our view of the mundane and elicits a creative mind. In the course of the semester, I learned that writing metaphors can be more difficult than originally thought (which totally changed-up my perspective), and I also learned that metaphor is paprika on the common language dish. Metaphors add zest to common phrases and make writings more interesting to read. Part of the reason why poetry can be so pleasurable and thought-provoking, leads back to the attractiveness of metaphor and how it challenges us to think outside the box. Like narrative, metaphors are everywhere. They are engraved in our brain, they beckon thoughts immediately, and they add flavor to the ‘Know’ which is great. For my piece of metaphor, I used the song I wrote inspired by Lana Del Rey’s BORN TO DIE. In my version, I used a similar beat, like hers, and wrote a completely different take on it. From the point of view of the broke, a man falls in love with a friend, by accident, which makes the friend decide to leave. Standing alone, the man is left confused about his emotions, asking the friend to come back and is willing to change, just so they can still be with each other. Not to say the whole song is metaphorical,but some of the lyrics features it. Sometimes the metaphor connects two different things and makes them coherent, as “snow” is compared to sadness, where many consider it “joyful”.

December 6, 2012
Metaphor: BORN TO DIE


Why me?

Why now?

I said, “Fear don’t bring me down”

I was lost, until I was found

What was I suppose to think

That you were coming for me?

I can’t take no more

Looking back at this fucked up sea

I’ll love you til the end of time

Why can’t I be what you want?

What am I suppose to say, say, say to you?

How about that you, you, you love me too?

I guess that’s not what you had in mind

Don’t leave me now

Don’t make it snow

Sometimes Love is not enough, it gets tough, it fucks up my whole damn mind

Anyway that you want

But please stay with me now

I’ll change the way I am so everything will seem all sweet and fine

Come take a walk on my side

See the love through my sad eyes

It’s like I told you so

Those hurtful words

but don’t make it the last time

Cause You and I

Cause I was known to die

Walking in the city streets

Touching your torso in the sheets

You made me so confused

At the thought of “us”

Why can’t we just try this whole thing out?

It’s like I told you

Don’t make me sad

Don’t make me cry

Sometimes Love is not enough, it gets rough, and fucks up my whole damn mind

Anything you want Dear

But please stay with me here

Sometimes You had enough and I hope you stand and join my life

Come take a stroll in my mind

See the pain of “friends” that you’ve lied

That you made me feel

This is my last call

I’ll stay by your side

Cause You and I

We were born to die

I fell for you

I thought you did too

I guess I wanted something more

You wanted nothing more

Now you leave me

With nothing but remorse

Of the idea that we can’t be

Leaving my heart so sore

December 6, 2012

Imagery is what provides readers the extra sensory perception. Without it, it would mean nothing to what the readers are reading. They give helpful insight into what the writer or author is trying to say, while including diction that provides a more vivid description of what is actually going on. What I learned and interpreted from imagery is that it helps paint a more lively picture; makes it easier for people to see what I write. In this section, I used the general statement “the closet door opened” to provide the background for a more vivid picture, a more specific picture. I used different senses to show readers the sheer terror and dread of what is happening to a small child in bed. We’ve all faced his fear some time in our childhood. So I basically added more vivid words to help paint a more scarier picture of what’s going on in the child’s bedroom.The imagery provides me more of an open opportunity to go beyond just a general topic, statement, or sentences, but allows more creativity to get something else out of it. Anyone can change the general into something else based on the diction, tone, and the way they present the images provided.  In my opinion there is no better way to set a scene or mood than by implementing imagery. It benefits the writer a lot since it won’t have its readers confused on the setting, action, or drama that is happening within the writing.

December 6, 2012
Imagery: What Lurks In the Closet?

General: the closet door opened

The room contained an evil silence, where almost everything went dark. All my toys took a demented turn when the lights shut off. It was something that frightened me. So, I grabbed my sheets and went under. I tried to scream, “Mom!” Something was preventing me from doing so. I was scared to make any movement or noise because I assumed it would get much worse for me. As I curled up into the fetal position, scared for my light, that’s when I heard the noise. It was my door creaking. I grabbed the ends of the white sheets and peeked my eyes from under the covers. I saw it. My brown oak closet door was slowly opening revealing nothing but pure darkness. Something was lurking there, watching me, observing me. It wanted me and I could tell. And that is when I heard the hooves. It was finally coming out to get me. I pulled the covers under me, but it was too late. It came fast. It grabbed my ankles and I was dragged out of my bed. My nails dug into my hardwood floor, leaving engraving marks of terror; my signature of vanishing. I screamed for help, but it was no use. As soon as I entered its lair, my brown oak closet door slammed shut. The darkness messed with my senses.I eventually gave myself up to it. I could feel the claw marks on my body, like an intense sunburn in summer, except this was spilling out fresh warm blood.

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