11/20-Emotions

To be honest, if you're hearing voices in your head, you are probably crazy. Especially if there's five of them. What would they argue about? I don't know. I don't have voices in my head. It's kind of empty up there. I kind of do what ever I think of in that moment. If there's suppose to be different emotional voices in my head, I haven't found them yet. I barely change emotions. My natural emotion is boredom, and you can't blame me. We've been dragged through school our entire life, so how sensitive my emotions are have been numbed down. It's kind of weird. I don't get angry, I don't get sad, I don't get scared, and rarely do I ever get happy. That's only when I'm doing something bad though. How am I suppose to know what a bunch of emotions would talk about when I barely have experience in them?

11/18-Treason & Historical Fiction

There's a deadly war raging across the states between two rival gangs: the Supreme Cult and the Rebels. Both gangs fight for their beliefs and their greed for power. It's basically a second civil war within the United States. The authorities don't really bother getting involved into the fight because of the extreme power both gangs have. The Eastside of the country belongs to the Supreme Cult as the Westside belongs to the Rebels. Fights happened constantly because gang members wanted control over the states. Our scene is set in Texas. Where it is not confirmed who owns it, but it might be shortly. "Hello? Are you still up for the deal or not?" read the computer screen as. "Yes, the Supreme Cult can really use this state for a major funding," replied the cultist. The rebel read this and typed, "Good, here's the plan. I'll set some explosives up, detonate them, and watch my gang pull out of the state." "Sounds good, and in return, we will pay you $250,000," said the cultist. "Deal! I'll plant the bombs tomorrow. Remember to get your people to put pressure on my people when the bombs go off. The rebels won't be able to stand their ground and will be forced to retreat," typed the rebel. "Will do. We will be waiting," the cultist responded. The mysterious rebel turned off his computer and got to work on the bombs right away. By tomorrow morning, all the explosives were ready to arm. He didn't get any sleep that night, but it didn't effect him one bit. He dressed up in his rebel outfit and headed out. He drove to the locations he planned on blowing up. On his way to the first location, the road in front of him was blocked off by rebel cars. He instantly realized what was going on, so he tried to back up but was cut off by more rebel cars. He accepted his defeat and crawled out of his car. One of the Rebel's lieutenants hopped out of the car in front of the traitorous rebel. The lieutenant pulled out a handgun and pointed it to the traitor. "You almost got away with it. You do know we are informed when one of our own boys are negotiating with our enemies, right? What did you plan on doing after you got the money? You think you can just get paid and then have nothing to worry about? We really need this state and you know that. We already have California, but when we get Texas too, we will become the richest gang. You just had to put that in jeopardy," shouted the lieutenant. The traitor opened his mouth to speak, but was shot in the head before he could. "I don't have time for excuses," said the lieutenant. He then turned away from the traitors dead body and walked back to his car. He pulled out his cellphone and called someone. "The traitor has been executed. Now let's get back to dealing with the cult," spoke the lieutenant as he got back into his car.

11/17-Found Poem

What am I doing?

11/14-The Berlin Wall

My name is Erik, and I have volunteered to help destroy the Berlin Wall. It puts a smile my face to see pieces of the wall scatter when the bombs detonate. This means I'm one step closer to seeing Claudia once again. Claudia, my sweet dear wife, and my son Alexander. I haven't seen that boy for years. He must be grown up by now. I'm going to need to make up the lost time for him. The more I think about my family, the more I ache to get over this wall. I need to work faster if we- wait... I think we made a break through somewhere. Yes, we must have! I can see thousands of people cluttering near the wall. We did! I need to see my family. It's hard to get through the crowd of people, but I will push on. I see them! My beautiful wife and my brave son. 20 years behind this wall, and today I was reunited with my family.

11/13-Macabre Arts

This "art" is suppose to represent something. I think it looks like a bunch of naked people underground. There's one guy shouting at a hole, which I think leads to the surface because light is coming through it. Everyone else is either crying or/and hugging someone else. One guy is against a wall, and on the other side of that wall is a bunch of dirt and bones. Maybe these people were buried alive. They were left to starve to death. It seems like, so there's my opinion.

11/12-The Haunted House

It's been four years since the Weston couples have moved into the isolated house. The house has been passed down the Weston family for six generations. When Mr. Weston's dying mother was on her last few days of precious life, he and his family stayed in the house long enough to say their goodbyes. The night his mother died was a sorrow for the entire family, but before she took her last breath, she asked the family to carry on the tradition and live in the house. The Westons couldn't refuse without the feeling of guilt crawling around in their hearts, so they accepted. They moved from the big city to the small countryside. The family was miles away from any civilization. Only trees and the gravel road surrounded the house. The car they came with was their transportation, and the closest school was not like the schools the Weston kids were use to. Mrs. Weston became a stay at home wife. She cleaned, cooked, carried water in from the well, and even attended to the garden. Mr. Weston was the only one that worked. He was a employee for some sort of slaughter house. It was a gruesome job, but it kept the lights on in the house. The Westons had it all planned out, but a lot of things happened in those four years they lived there. In the mornings, when the kids go to school and the father goes to work, the thick fog lays gently on the mushy grounds. A calm breeze would blow and rustle the trees. It was always quite. Not even animals were found anywhere near the house. The wife claimed several times that she had seen someone in the far distance, lurking in  the fog. The husband always said that it was either her imagination or just a hunter. Why would there be a hunter with no animals to hunt? She knew what she saw wasn't what he suggested it to be. She kept seeing these "people" in the woods. She even says that they've tried to break in. Mr. Weston became worried, but took no action. One weekend, the husband left for work and the kids stayed home alone with their mother. To the father's surprise, he came home to find police cars in his driveway. He rushed into the house to see his wife in cuffs and his badly bruised kids being escorted out. A officer explained that the mother beat the children while yelling, "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" She told the officer that she was convinced that they were the people stalking her from the woods. Mrs. Weston was arrested while the children were brought to a foster home. Mr. Weston slept through many restless nights since then. Eventually, his wife was released from jail. The two of them went into depression due to the loss of their kids. Months passed, and the wife started to see the people again. She went mad. She went to the extreme to protect herself. She set up traps and would always carry their family rifle around with her. She would shoot into the woods, hoping she would hit one of those creatures. She didn't even doubt herself anymore. She believed that the faces in the fog and the people in the woods were not illusions. On the end of the fourth year, she waited for her husband to come home from work. When the car pulled into the driveway, and the front door opened, she pulled the trigger. Mr. Weston dropped dead in the living room. Within a few seconds, she came to her senses. She mourned about the mistake she made. She collapsed to her knees and closed her eyes. She prayed for forgiveness. Then, her eyes opened and witnessed the people from the woods in her living room. She made one final decision and pointed the gun to her head. With one pull of a trigger, her insanity and her life were over.

11/7-Ewww...That's Creepy

Think...think...think. All the things to think about. It's got to be creepy but not scary. Let's think together, shall we? Many things can be creepy to some but not to others. For example, clowns might scare few, but not the rest. Think...think...think. So much to create, and so much to destroy. Diseases, murder, and suffering. How about the mind of the insane? That's unsettling enough. On the outside they might just look like maniacs, but what could be going on in their mind? Maybe it is a constant reminder of the dark sins they've committed. It could be a terrible event in the past that they experienced, and it just plays in their head again and again. Maybe... just maybe... they are on the edge of insanity. Anyone can be. The people you walk by in the halls, the people that ride your bus, or the people you sit by could all instantly snap. One moment can be normal as the next can be tragic. We've all been pushed to the edge; it's only a matter of time before we jump. How about you? Have you jumped yet? Or are you just hiding it?  Are you refusing to accept the madness? You know it's creeping up on you. Every second brings you closer to it. Let's be honest, you've thought it would be easy to "remove" that one person that always causes problems, or it would be easier if things went your way. You just have one simple choice to make, but what would the others think of you. Would you care? Of course you would. Even if we say we deny the opinions of others, we truly don't. You take a step closer to the cliff of the insane everyday. Before you know it, you've become one of the lunatics locked up in the asylums.  Like I said before, it's only a matter of time before we plummet into the realm of insanity.