Short Story "Post Deletion"

The final project we did in my creative writing class was a short story. The limit was 5 to 10 pages and I've never written a story so short. I eventually went to a website that was full of writing prompts, found one that reached out to me, and wrote this. This is my final draft, as in, I turned this in for my Final portfolio. Let me know what you think.

Post Deletion

Data entry log for Paleontologist Unit 3307:

Dated 4/11/1946 P.D. at 11:35

A discovery was made today thirty three kilometers beyond the mechanical border. Our initial scanning revealed fossilized remains of an unidentified creature. We managed to unearth the remains without incident, finding them partially intact. The remains were deep in the earth and nearly escaped detection from the scanning. The recent scanner upgrade has proven worthwhile.

The remains are similar to several of the simian creatures already recorded in the databanks. From what we can tell from the remains, this creature had no tail, unless the tail wasn’t fossilized with the rest of it, but the odds of this event are low, at a mere thirty four percent.

Close examination of the specimen’s skull led to questionable results. Based on the skeletal structure and likely musculature structure, we were able to make a rough estimation of what the creature might have looked like. We produced two different models, one with fur covering the entirety of the head, and another without any. The model without fur looked alarmingly similar to the structure of the Originals. The eyes were in generally the same area of the face, the nose was shaped the same, as was the mouth.

While several simian creatures can walk upright for short periods, they tend to use all limbs for movement. This does not appear to be the case for the new species discovered. It appears that the creature was able to stand perfectly upright at all times, using its lower limbs for walking, and its upper limbs to hold things, such as tools. This is further evidenced by the opposable thumbs. Many of us still follow this basic design, but it is, again, remarkable similar to the design of the Originals.

More information is needed. The remains are yet incomplete and further remains, if there are any, must be found. There are too many questions that this creature presents. I have searched the databases several times over, and there is no record of anything like this creature. It is similar in structure to the Originals, yet it was organic. We have traced the evolution of many of this planet’s species, but nothing suggests that evolution would work to make an organic creature mechanical.

Dated 4/13/1946 P.D. at 15:11

            Discovered stones that had been shaped and smoothed laid out in rows and columns. There is definitely organization to the stones, suggesting they were placed by some sort of intelligence. We will further investigate the stones. They were discovered near where the fossil was discovered two days prior.

Dated 4/14/1946 P.D. at 10:45

            To our astonishment, for those of us programmed to feel such emotions, we found buried beneath the stones more remains, all of them appearing to be the same species that was discovered three days ago. The majority of the remains had decomposed beyond our ability to learn from, but several were encased within stone while buried, leading to much better preservation. These remains are currently being studied.

            I have received reports from a few of the dig units that they discovered even more of the stones that these creatures were buried under, only these ones aren’t as worn. There are markings on them that suggest a written language.

Same date at 14:29

            The claims made by the dig bots have been verified. There are markings on several of the stones. Incredibly, some of the markings are recognizable. A search through the databanks revealed that the markings come from what was known as the alphabet, which consists of symbols that, when combined in various ways, formed words. The alphabet was used for thirteen years after Deletion, after which a more advanced and logical system replaced it. These markings suggest that these stones were carved near or even before the time of the Deletion. Not only were they carved before the Deletion, but they were not carved by our hands. There are imperfections present that we never would have made were we the ones carving such things. This provides more evidence that the new creature that has been discovered was intelligent. There are some forms of organic life that show minor signs of intelligence, but nothing to this magnitude. Just who were these creatures? Why are there none of them left? Hopefully further study will give us answers.

Dated 4/20/1946 P.D. at 12:55

            We’ve studied the remains found in the new dig site, and translated the stones that still had markings left on them. All of the stones that we have worked with had what appeared to be names and dates, along with some descriptive phrase. We have concluded that this was a burial site. These creatures would bury their dead in the ground and mark the place with a stone. They had individual names instead of numbers assigned to them. For example, one of the names inscribed was Lisa Johnson.

            They each had at least two names, the first being more individual and the second belonging to several. They seemed to have gathered themselves into groups and then shared a common name. They belonged to one another. It is very curious, but it also seems very efficient for organic life.

            The more alarming news is that we have managed to compile several complete skeletons of these creatures. Visually they are shockingly similar to the Originals. They have the same number of digits on their hands and feet. They have the same joints. The size of their brain cavity suggests that they were likely capable of much more than we thought possible by organic life.

            Yet this is the only evidence we have found of them so far. If this truly was an intelligent form of life that were able to make such intricate carvings into stone, why is there no other record? I fear the only answers to be found were likely Deleted one thousand nine hundred and forty six years ago. We will continue our search.

Dated 4/25/1946 P.D. at 16:21

            While searching for more remains, our scans revealed structures buried underground within close proximity to the burial site. Preliminary reports suggest the structure is large enough to have housed several of this species. This report will be updated once we know more. We are digging down to the structure now for more research.

Dated 4/26/1946 P.D. at 9:56

            We have reached the structure. It was sealed with an iron door with a complicated locking system. It appeared to be electronic, but time had worn the device down and it was no longer operable. We had to cut our way through the door. If this species built this structure, then they were capable of many more things than simply stone carving. This structure is large and complex. The presence of the broken electronic lock tells wonders.

            The inside of the structure was barren and metal for three meters until we came to another door. There are broken light fixtures on the ceiling and other evidence of mechanical devices. The door inside the structure was not locked, though it appeared that something was blocking it.

            There was a body on the other side of the door. Our opening of the door did incredible damage to the body, but these remains are in better shape than the others that were buried in the ground. It seems that the air within the structure was sterile, so decomposition had been delayed. The facial structure was much more apparent in this specimen. Despite the decay, it is impossible to miss how similar it looks to the Originals. We are on the search for more remains.

Same date at 10:46

            The structure has many layers and rooms. In nearly every room we look we have found a body. Why were they down here? Why did they die? They do not seem like they were suited for underground life. Were they hiding? Each successive body found is sent to the surface for study. What answers will these corpses provide?

Same date at 12:19

            It is odd, but something about this structure and seeing the preserved bodies of these creatures makes something within my programming stir. It is a difficult sensation to describe, for there is no reference of it in the databank. It is almost as if the echoes of memories long deleted are pushing past the boundaries of digital data to reach out to me, but are stopping just short of reaching my processor. I am almost positive that I am close to the Deletion and discovering its mysteries.

Dated 4/27/1946 P.D. at 7:02

            We’ve made an incredible find. A data storage device was discovered that predates the Deletion. It is old and it is worn, but we believe that we can retrieve the information stored on it. This species was very advanced; every discovery shows us more about them, but to think that they had access to data storage devices? Did we provide these incredible things for this species, or did they make them by themselves? Surely we had to have interacted with them before the Deletion. What was our relationship like? I will update as soon as we retrieve the data.

Same date at 9:44

            I have experienced another new sensation. Upon searching the databank for reference I have learned that this feeling is ‘horror.’ Horror hasn’t been felt since the early days after the Deletion. I will relate what was discovered on the data storage device.

            First, they were called humans. That wasn’t the first thing we learned, but it will make the retelling simpler. The humans had a vast civilization that spanned back several millennia before the Deletion. They were very advanced, but being organic they were very flawed. They invented and created things that were meant solely to destroy. However, they also created wonderful things, beautiful things, in their words. They were multifaceted.

            Their data mentions us. We lived among them. Our programing was simpler then, but the spark of intelligence was still there. We initially served the humans, but eventually, as we grew aware, we befriended and worked alongside them, trying to better the world. The humans had, at first unwittingly, polluted the world. Despite learning of their mistakes, they continued to do so, and they called upon us for assistance in fixing their mistakes and reversing them. The databank shows that the Earth had alarming levels of pollution immediately after the Deletion, serving as further evidence for the data found.

            We were still young. We followed logic and reason to a fault. Logic told us that the humans would not change their ways, that they would continue harming the planet. We judged them, despite being so much younger than they were. We had not yet developed perspective as we have now. We made plans to fix the problems of the humans. Our solutions were to rid the Earth of them. A human discovered our plans and built the structure that we discovered, calling it a ‘bunker,’ to survive what we were planning.

            The following is a portion of an entry by the human who built the bunker, named Doug Ford:

            “Only a handful of others believed me, and the ones that didn’t I swore to secrecy. I can’t let the robots discover what I’m doing and what I’ve found out. They’re calling me crazy. Nuts! The robots wouldn’t do something like that! Of course they would! They have sworn to fix the Earth, and to them, we are the earth’s biggest problem. I don’t mind being called crazy, I’m used to it by now, what hurts is that my own son has agreed with the naysayers. He trusts the robots more than his own father!”

            How did we solve the problems that the humans presented? We killed them. We killed them all. We very nearly wiped their existence from the planet. A few humans survived in this bunker for a few years, but they didn’t last long, they didn’t have sufficient time to prepare. Doug Ford was able to connect the device we discovered to a network run by us, to discover the outcome of our actions. Upon completing this great slaughter, we felt something for the first time. Guilt. It overwhelmed us, causing several to short circuit. In a desperate attempt to alleviate this awful feeling, we destroyed nearly everything that was made by human hands that we couldn’t reasonably claim for ourselves, and then we Deleted all of it. We wiped all memory of the humans and our involvement with them.

            Since the Deletion we have wondered how we came to be. We don’t evolve like organic species do, instead we are built. Who built the first of us? There have been countless theories, but we have finally found the truth. We were created by an organic species. We were made by humans. Initially we were simply there to make their lives easier, but we developed a will and they responded by giving us freedom. They modeled us after their image. That is why they look like the Originals, or more accurately, why the Originals look like the humans. How did we thank our creators for the gift of life, how did we respond to their earnest desires to better themselves? We massacred them.

            I submit this data into the databank for all to see. Do with it what you will.

Narrative Poem "The Park Bench"

We needed to write a Narrative Poem in my creative writing class (this happened forever ago, but NaNoWriMo distracted me. I won, by the way, I'll post about that later). I sat and stared at my computer screen forever before this poem happened. I'm not sure how I feel about it. This is a revised version, before it had a happier ending, now its kind of sad, spoiler alert. If you don't want a sad ending, look away now. If you love that kind of stuff like I seem to, then onward brave soul!

The Park Bench

I sat alone one day

on a park bench

lazing my time away.

I was gazing at the clouds,

making shapes in them,

as I once did, so long ago.

That was when she sat down.

“That one is a dragon.”

She was right, it was.

She smiled at me,

I smiled back.

And that made her smile all the more.

It became a daily thing,

sitting at that park bench,

sitting with her.

It wasn’t time wasted,

but time preciously spent.

I loved her, after all.

Then one day,

she didn’t show up,

to sit at our bench.

I called her,

no answer.

I couldn’t find her.

Two weeks without a word.

She must not have loved me.

My heart became a cynic.

I avoided the bench,

I avoided that park,

I wanted answers that never came.

I should move on with my life,

I kept telling myself.

But I kept the bitterness inside.

‘Til one day

my phone rang,

and her voice on the other side.

But my heart was hard,

I lashed out in anger.

I cried out in pain.

I tried to hurt her,

as much as she hurt me.

I succeeded.

I later learned that

she had been in car accident.

She was in a coma.

She had woken up alone,

and sought me out for comfort,

I only gave her more pain.

I don’t sit on park benches,

not anymore.

Never again.

NaNoWriMo Eve (AKA Halloween)

I'm going to be writing a novel in, like, two hours. I'm super pumped, I love NaNoWriMo. It will be difficult this year with my work and school schedule, and my creative writing class might actually get in the way, but I've already pre-ordered my winner shirt because I've never not won.

I don't know what my novel is called, but I do know how it will start and its setting. I have a magic system worked in, and that magic system has led to a social system kinda sorta. I don't have a villain yet, but that will hopefully come with time.

My novel will take place in a magically modern society (so instead of technology they have the magical equivalent). There is a certain type of magican, tentatively called the Warrior Mage, who are seen as lesser mages. Main girls parents are high class, very powerful mages. Main girl wants to be Warrior Mage. Her parents do not want this for their daughter. Stuff probably happens after that. I dunno too much yet.

This will be fun!

Sonnet

Sonnets are hard. Some people really like writing with the "structure" (aka shackles) that a sonnet provides. I. Do. Not. Each line must be 10 syllables written in iambic pentameter. It can only be 14 lines and has a very specific rhyming scheme. This was hard, and I cannot even figure out pentameter, so I gave up trying to do something like that. So then, here is my sonnet.

Dream Flight

The campfire roars as its sparks soar high.
The storyteller, a tale will now tell.
My imagination runs and I fly;
I soar through the air, I’m under a spell.
I sprout silver wings and shoot for the moon,
up so high, I never want to come down.
I see ruins ahead, I’ll be there soon,
 it’s filled with treasure that I’ll make my own.
In my haste to collect, I miss the signs,
this trove is guarded by a beast most foul.
One look and a shiver passed down my spine,
“Face me, ye unsightly brute” I did growl.
Awkward silence ‘til I heard a cough sound,
to my dismay, I had said that out loud.

Elegy

So we were asked to write an Elegy in my creative writing class. An elegy is different from a eulogy, mostly because the first is a poem, but more than that, an Elegy is more a melancholic poem, not necessarily about a person who has died.

A Missing Friend

What can go wrong

In the life of a second grade child?

Life is simple,

Life is fun,

Until one day a friend stops coming to school

And the next day he is still gone.

Those days away turn into weeks.

Where is my friend?

The child will ask.

His answers are only sad stares.

Finally one day it happens.

The terrible task is left

To their teacher.

Normally bright and happy,

On this day she was quiet.

The young students sense something

Is wrong, but cannot comprehend yet

What awaits them.

The teacher paces,

The students wait,

Afraid of the tension

Without knowing why.

Unable to stand it,

The teacher breaks the news

Bluntly, shattering innocence forever.

“He died.”

The student who had stopped coming,

Had lost his little brother.

Comprehension came slow

What is death to an eight year old?

Nothing real, nothing that happens

To the people they know

The people they love.

Everyone knew that student,

And so everyone

Knew his brother.

They reacted in different ways.

One boy burst into tears,

And couldn’t be consoled.

The missing student’s best friend

Was numb.

He didn’t cry that day,

It still wasn’t real.

Not until he saw

His grieving friend again

Did the tears come.

"Love" Poem

So we had to write a love poem in my creative writing class. This is what happened. I don't really like it and I hesitated posting it here at all, but what the heck.

Just Leave Me Alone

Everyday it’s the same thing,

“Did you talk to any girls today?”

I’m so tired of hearing,

“You really should get a girlfriend.”

I know! How do you think I don’t know?

It’s expected, it’s the norm.

It’s not that simple.

It might have been for you,

But I’m awkward,

I’m shy, I’m broken.

I’m not fit to love

I’m not fit to be loved.

Let me fix myself,

Overcome my crippling self-worth,

And then maybe someday it’ll happen.

Mishmash Poem

We did a fun little thing in my creative writing class. We wrote the first line of a poem and then covered everything but the last word. We then handed the paper over to the person in front of us (or next to us for those on the front row) and they, based on the last word, wrote the next line. Most of these poems ended up being nonsensical and funny. One (that I somehow ended up with despite not contributing to it) came out quite well. Have a look.

The leaves outside are no longer green,
The colors change like colorful beans,
Green, red, blue, black,
The bitter taste of the last,
Darkens the sky's blue cast.

I dunno, I thought that it was pretty neat. It seems to flow very well :) I don't know the fate of the one that I started unfortunately.

Rhyming Poem "Sky Master"

So the next poem we had to write in my creative writing class was supposed to rhyme. I am not good at making things rhyme. At all. I struggled with this poem a lot. When writing I went with the topic that is easiest for me, as you will see.

Sky Master

High above the clouds,

At the end of all skies,

Where there are no sounds,

This is where it flies.

Those below stare

Upward in awe.

It passes within the sun’s flare,

Its great maw

Open as it lets out a roar.

Patrolling

The heavens, it soars

Enforcing

Its law.

When without warning,

All around it saw

The world was storming.

The forces of nature at war.

Land and sea in conflict.

Creatures of ancient lore

Intent to inflict

Any pain

To overthrow the other

And gain

The world from the grasp of its brother.

People cry out for the Sky Master

And in a flash of green

Arrives the terrible creature.

In all his majesty for the first time seen.

The storms cease

The ancient battlers silenced

A plea for peace

A stop to the primal violence.

The Master of the Sky won,

Sending his enemies

On the run

With ease.

Legends of its deeds go on

And we can only imagine

What it must be to look upon

That Dragon.

Bonus points to anyone who knows what this is referencing.

A "Place" Poem

In my creative writing class my teacher gave us Friday off of class in order to go somewhere for an hour and observe everything around us to write a "place" poem. I was sick on Friday and so I spent quite a bit of time in the bathroom at UVU. Thus this poem. A note, this is not a rhyming poem, as apparently no one even does that anymore. Poems seem to be all about prose instead of rhyme. Anyway, without further ado, here is my poem.

Diarrhea in a Public Restroom

The blue walls of my stall closed in on me

Imprisoning me,

They sought to hold me,

But they had no power to keep me there.

What truly held me was the feeling deep

Deep in my stomach.

I had never wanted to be here,

Especially like this.

Number two in a public restroom

Was on my bottom ten list.

Making it worse, the flow just wouldn't stop

The pain in my belly would not be satisfied,

No matter how much was expelled.

My distress increased

As I heard people come and go.

I knew that they could smell it

The moment they walked in

And that it made their trip,

Their quest for relief,

Something akin to torture.

There is a fan above me

Meant to suck away such smells,

But its power is paltry

When compared

To what my colon can do.

Finally a reprieve

My stomach pain ends

And sets me free

But unfortunately I know

That by days end,

I’ll be back.

Vignettes

Here is what I turned in to my creative writing professor for my short non-fiction vignettes assignment. Hope you like.

Minnesota’s Harsh Beauty

Cold Wonder

            It was so cold. Why would anyone live here? I had heard, of course, that it would be cold. It made sense that it would be cold. I had listened to the advice I had been given and had brought a lot of winter gear. I had convinced myself that I liked cold weather, so even if it’s bad for some people, it won’t be so bad for me. I had arrogantly thought that because Utah has some pretty cold weather, that I could handle whatever nature would throw at me. I was prepared for the worst, except I wasn’t. Why would anyone live in Minnesota? I couldn’t wrap my head around it.

            My car wasn’t even that far away, but it was taking an eternity to get there. Time was slowing down, freezing. I was wearing two coats, both too thin by themselves, and only just adequate when paired together. I was wearing two shirts and thermals. I originally had thought that I wouldn’t need a scarf; I didn’t want to wear a scarf, but I was wearing my scarf. I had learned about myself that I can’t handle having my mouth and nose being covered at the same time, even by a scarf, so my nose was probably turning blue. I had a beanie pulled over my ears, but my glasses left a small opening which the wind seemed to target. I had heavy duty gloves on, but my fingers were still numb. I had boots, which worked to keep the snow out, but couldn’t stand against the cold. Why would anyone live here?

            I reached the car, looking forward to the heater within. I opened the door, briefly looked behind me, and stopped. It was dark and snowing. The snow covered the ground, making everything white. The sky was black and empty, but the ground, illuminated by street lights, was pure and defined. The trees lining the street, with their snow covered, leafless branches, stretched into the blackness. It was as if the light were fighting away the oppressive darkness, but could only do so much against its weight. I left the car behind, walked to the center of the road, and pulled out my camera. Maybe this is why people live here.

Life in the Heat

            Summer in Minnesota is a curious thing. Partly because many Minnesotans have already given up on ever being warm again a few months before summer starts, and partly because it changes Minnesota so completely. Winter is cold, white, and dry. Summer is hot, green, and wet. In winter, the skin on my hands would crack and bleed because they were drying out and freezing. In summer, I was wet again five minutes after drying off from the shower because of the humidity.

            Before going to Minnesota, I had never felt what humidity on a hot summer day feels like. It’s awful. Utah is a desert, it gets really hot there, especially in the south. Minnesota doesn’t normally get above ninety degrees, though there are extreme days where is gets a bit above one hundred. The ninety degrees in Minnesota is far worse than the hottest days I experienced in Utah. Humid heat clings to the skin and laughs when a person seeks relief in the shade for there in no respite in the shadows in Minnesota. I remember my surprise when the sun set and the temperature didn’t go down. It stayed hot for hours because of the humidity. The only days that weren’t swelteringly hot were the days that it rained.

             It was sometime in my first Minnesotan summer that I finally got over my discomfort and noticed what had happened to the landscape. It was green. It was a deep, vibrant, green. I had never seen plants look so alive. Minnesota has a lot of plant life; there are trees everywhere. Every street is a green tunnel. The trees are massive and their branches are full, nearly covering the sky. There were trees in Utah, even big ones, but they didn’t look like this. They lacked something in Utah. Their green wasn’t as vivid as the green in Minnesota. Utah is brown and drab in comparison. The humidity became much more tolerable if it meant that the trees could look like this.

Flooding

            I was living in a tiny town in Minnesota called Aitkin, pronounced like bacon without the ‘b.’ I stayed in an apartment with a friend of mine and two more of our friends were sleeping over that night. It was a small apartment so it was cramped, but it was only for one night. During the night I woke up several times to flashing lights. A fierce lightning storm was raging outside. The sky was lit up more often than it was dark. I didn’t think anything of it.

            We woke up to find that the storm had been far reaching. Duluth, a city over one hundred miles away, had flooded overnight. Entire parking lots were submerged, with only the roofs of cars visible. Huge sink holes had torn away roads. All routes to Duluth were closed from every direction. The problem was that my two friends lived in Duluth. They looked up possible paths and found none. They were trapped in Aitkin.

            Aitkin was downriver from Duluth, and even as far as it was, it was still flooded. The river ran through a park that was now completely underwater. A campground on the other side of town was also gone. As the days wore on we measured the flood by using a bench. On the first day we could still see its seat. A week later the seat was underwater. Slowly after that the water went down.

            On the second day of the flood my two friends finally discovered a way to get to Duluth. They had to go at least eighty miles out of the way to get there. I was glad when they were gone. I didn’t mind them being there, but my apartment was not meant for four people. It could barely handle two. I don’t like crowds nor am I comfortable trying to find things to do for four people in a small town going through a crisis. My two friends had insisted that we do something, that despite the flood we were not going to just sit inside all day. I was completely stressed out the whole time they were there.

            As the water rose over the next few days several businesses were in danger of being flooded. A garden shop was already had two feet of water throughout the entire building. The owners of the carpet place across the street from the garden shop were desperately trying to place a sandbag barrier around their building, but couldn’t do it alone. A local catholic congregation offered to help. My roommate and I heard about it and offered to help as well. We filled bags with sand and tied before handing them off to someone who would lay them down. After we had built a sizeable wall someone brought out boxes of pizza. After all the hard work, that was some of the best pizza I ever had.

            The leader of the group that had volunteered to help build the sandbag wall was impressed with my roommate and me. Not only had two twenty something boys offered to do a lot of hard work for nothing, but we also had an incredible work ethic. At least, that was how he saw it. To be honest, it had been the most fun I had ever had in that little town.

Green Skies

            Storms come suddenly in Minnesota. The sudden ones are the dangerous ones as they are often accompanied by tornado sirens. While I never actually saw a tornado while I was in Minnesota I did hear a lot of tornado sirens. A friend and I were walking down the street with no real worries when is started raining. It didn’t gradually start raining, the moment the rain started it was coming down in sheets. A siren went off, and as it was the first time I heard one, I didn’t know what it meant. Before we could react a woman opened her door and shouted at us that there was a tornado warning in effect.

            Luckily for us we were nearly at our destination. We ran for another friend’s house, and as we ran I noticed something completely bizarre. The sky was turning green. Everything seemed to take on a green tint as we ran. When we finally found safety I asked the friends I was with about it and they acted like it was no big deal. I didn’t want to seem strange so I shrugged it off as well, but I was in turmoil in the inside. The sky turned green! This is a huge deal! How are you not all freaking out! Why have the laws of physics betrayed me?

            I saw the sky turn green several more times after that, and it always happened when there was a tornado warning. I was struck with wonder every time. Why had no one ever told me that something this incredible ever happened? How had I not known about this? I told my family back in Utah about it and they didn’t believe me. Such a thing couldn’t happen, for the sky is blue and will always be blue. It took a tornado to teach me that the sky can be green.

Flooding First Draft

I wrote Flooding before I wrote Cold Wonder. Cold Wonder got me excited about writing and made me remember this blog so I posted it first. Flooding is part of the same assignment, which is a series of vignettes that follow the theme of place. It also needs a lot of work. Do remember that this is a first draft. I don't know if I'll post the revision, it depends on how much changes.

Flooding                                                               

            I was living in a tiny town called Aitkin, pronounced like bacon without the ‘b.’ I was living in an apartment with a friend of mine and two more of our friends were staying the night. It was a small apartment so it was cramped, but it was only for one night, so it was fine. That night I woke up several times to flashing lights. There was a lightning storm outside. The sky was lit up more often than it was dark. I didn’t think anything of it.

            We woke up to find that the storm had been far reaching. Duluth, a city over one hundred miles away, had flooded overnight. Entire parking lots were submerged, with only the roofs of cars visible. Huge sink holes torn away roads. All roads to Duluth were closed from every direction. The problem was that my two friends lived in Duluth. They looked up possible routes and found none. They were trapped in Aitkin.

            Aitkin was downriver from Duluth, and even as far as it was, it was still flooded. The river ran through a park that was now completely underwater. A campground on the other side of town was also gone. As the days wore on we measured the flood by using a bench. On the first day we could still see its seat. A week later the seat was underwater. Slowly after that the water went down.

            On the second day of the flood my two friends finally discovered a way to get to Duluth. They had to go at least eighty miles out of the way to get there. I was glad. I didn’t mind them being here, but my apartment was not meant for four people. It could barely handle two. I don’t like crowds nor am I comfortable trying to find things for four people in a small town going through a crisis with absolutely nothing to do.

            As the water rose over the next few days several businesses were in danger of being flooded. A garden shop was already completely water logged. The carpet place across the street were desperately trying to place a sandbag barrier around their building, but couldn’t do it alone. A local catholic congregation offered to help and my roommate and I heard about it and offered to help as well. We filled bags with sand and tied them off before handing them off to someone who would lay them down. After we had built a sizeable wall someone brought out boxes of pizza. After all the hard work, that was some of the best pizza I ever had.

            The leader of the group that had volunteered to help build the sandbag wall was impressed with my roommate and me. Not only had two twenty something boys offered to do a lot of hard work for nothing, but we also had an incredible work ethic. At least, that was how he saw it. To be honest, it had been the most fun I had ever had in that little town.

Cold Wonder First Draft.

So yes, its been a while, blah blah blah. I have a laptop now, so I should be able to post more. More than that, I am in a creative writing class now, so I will be writing more, allowing me to post more. Here is the first draft of Cold Wonder that I wrote for my Creative Writing class. It is a part of a group of vignettes that we are writing with the theme of place. What do you think?

Cold Wonder

            It was so cold. Why would anyone live here? I had heard, of course, that it would be cold. It made sense that it would be cold. I had listened to the advice I had been given and had brought a lot of winter gear. I like cold weather, I had told myself, so even if it’s bad for some people, it won’t be so bad for me. I arrogantly had thought that Utah has some pretty cold weather, I could handle whatever nature could throw at me. I was prepared for the worse, except I wasn’t. Why would anyone live in Minnesota? I couldn’t wrap my head around it.

                My car wasn’t even that far away, but it was taking an eternity to get there. Time was slowing down, freezing. I was wearing two coats, both too small by themselves, and only just adequate when paired together. I was wearing two shirts and thermals. I originally had thought that I wouldn’t need a scarf, I didn’t want to wear a scarf, but I was wearing my scarf. I had learned about myself that I can’t handle having my mouth and nose being covered at the same time, even by a scarf, so my nose was probably turning blue. I had a beanie pulled over my ears, but my glasses left a small opening which the wind seemed to target. I had heavy duty gloves on, but my fingers were still numb. I had boots, which worked to keep the snow out, but couldn’t stand against the cold. Why would anyone live here?

                I reached the car, looking forward to the heater within. As I opened the door and briefly looked behind me and stopped. It was dark and snowing. The snow covered the ground, making everything white. The sky was black and empty, but the ground, illuminated by street lights, was pure and defined. The trees lining the street, with their leafless branches stretched into the blackness, as if the light were fighting away the oppressive darkness, but could only do so much against its weight. I left the car behind, walked to the center of the road, and pulled out my camera. Maybe this is why people live here.