W8, #1: VISUAL VOCAB STORY

Set-Up: Vocab, photos, you get it. At least — by now — I hope you do. [smile]

Challenge: Use any 10 words that you select from all vocab words given so far [with the part of speech, please] to creatively describe 1 of the following photos:

Length: 7+ sentences

Words: Refer to the full SAT vocab words list (& additional words you were given during the week of 9/9)

Photo 1: (link: http://tinyurl.com/3j3ayya)

Photo 2: (link: http://tinyurl.com/4zl2ow)

Photo 3: (link: http://tinyurl.com/6ad88y)

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22 responses to “W8, #1: VISUAL VOCAB STORY

  1. Nothing to do but run.

    I’m running, running, running as fast as I can. Breathing hard, trying to get away. ‘Escape’ flashes through my mind, the one word a prisoner imagines, the one word a bird feels as it gazes sadly at the cold bars of its cage. I trip, fall on my face, taste blood, and continue. Running does not relieve the pain. It simply puts it out of mind for a while. But it helps.

    The fear in my head threatens to overwhelm me, but the running impedes (verb) it, not exhaustively (adverb), but sufficiently enough. I feel the fear in my pulse. It is as much a part of me as my blood. It is a parasite that is connected to my life source, connected to my being. I can never escape it–I can merely supress it.

    The look in his eyes was fire. It was simple fire, a blaze that was burning straight for me, a heat I could not abscond. It was not a pleasant fire, however; it was an inferno that seethed with rath, and grew with each burst of flaming anger. His arm, long and broad and evil, whipped out, and I felt my face crack with hurt and regret. Bruises to my body and to my heart. They are all over; my ribs and legs and head are examples of his malicious (adjective) ideas. I cry but he answers with an impassive (adjective) stare, eyes now full of a cool fire that burns apathy (noun). Even when I run, when I scream and burst from the room, he sits, breathing heavily but otherwise showing no evidence that he hit me.

    My breath is steadier now. Before, I was having difficulty breathing, because my sobs were choking me. These abate (verb), but not after I have exhausted my strength. I slow, first to a jog, then to a walk. Then a bench, a shining paragon (noun) of rest, enters the scene and claims me. Settling down upon its hard plastic surface, I exhale slowly. I am yet wary (adjective). He may hunt me yet.

    Doubts swirl about my head, making it ache evermore. Why me? Why him? Why anything? Questions with no meaning or answer envelope my mind and try to possess it, before coming together and forming into one being: Why are people the way they are? It has been pondered, researched, tested, and studied for thousands of years, yet some things do not connect. He…loved me, loved me with a fervor (noun) never matched. But then, why did this happen? How could one explain such a thing? Sitting on the bench, I feel like I’m in oblivion (noun), forgotten by the rest of the world, except for one solitary bird who walks along the pavement. He was amazing, a fantastic man. But this transformation could not be explained. It was a mystery.

    I have caught my breath. I pull myself slowly up from the bench and begin to run again.

    Escape.

    ***

    Mr. Long: You continue to take full advantage of these prompts. Week after week after week, your stories use the vocabulary as a spark for something truly significant. Each story has the weight of the world on its shoulders, but you control the story’s message with great delicateness. Really appreciated the shift mid-way through when you slowed the pace of running/breathing down, allowing the runner’s thoughts to carve a new arc of reflection. The ‘nemesis’ in her mind also evolves at this point. Striking.

  2. Its beauty lies in its simplicity. You simply pull yourself up and you will find yourself gliding through air as the wind guides your path. You are intrepid (adj.) yet sage (adj.) while your feet are churning fast. Even though running involves shoes, feet, heart, lungs, and every part of your body, once the feet are going, all other parts of your body seems to click automatically and meticulously (adv.) There is no need to be wary (adj.) of anything other than listening to your own even breathing. The more you run, the easier it is to levitate your thoughts. Nothing can impede (v) your progress, and all cares of the world are ephemeral. (adj.) All runners know this, even though they are most likely reticent (adj.) to delineate (v.) exactly how or why they feel this way. They can corroborate (v) with my fervor (n) during the running experience. I, as with all runners everywhere, are in complete veneration (n) of the wondrous experience that is running. As I put one foot in front of the other, there is an implicit (adj.) understanding that I will relish (v) another exuberant experience of the mind and body.

    ***

    Mr. Long: Love the first line, BTW. In fact, I love that the idea of running comes slowly, while the poetic language grabs your attention in those first few lines.

  3. Running. Running. This very action sets my thoughts racing. It ameliorates(v) the status, no matter what. It has bolstered(v.) me, making me audacious(adj). This penchant(n) for running has everyone asking a question. Why? When seeing my face when I run, I am not ebullient(adj). I am not garrulous(adj) when talking about running. The reason exists nowhere except within me. It cannot be elicited(v).For me, running impedes(v) every single problem at hand. This will remain an enigma(n) to everyone. This engima will continue to reside within me. Many are impassive about running. However, running is what calms me.

    ***

    Mr. Long: Intriguing use of “impassive” and “calms” as a contrast at the end.

  4. Image 1

    Everyday I sit and I wait. I watch among all these paragons (noun) of artwork. The employees know me by now, and are used to my abnormal ways. They used to try to elicit (verb) my purpose, but now they just leave my food and I alone. I try not to leave too much of a mess for them, since they don’t enforce the rules of no eating on me. Anyway, I see many people, old and young pass by me everyday. Some of the older ones are bolstered (verb) by wheelchairs, and there are always a few audacious (adj) young ones who try to escape from their parents. Parents…. The more of them I see, the more I wish mine hadn’t given me up. If they decided to spawn (verb) then they should have taken responsibility for me. I just wish I could meet them, just once, but that won’t happen. The orphanage said that they were just trying to ameliorate (verb) my life by keeping the identity secret. The day I was eighteen I was out of there. I suppose they were just trying to exculpate (verb) my parents that way. But keeping it a secret just shares the blame of who kept this a secret for so long. Maybe if I could meet them just once it would motivate me. To get out of this museum I come to searching for answers everyday. To go out and live my own life to the fullest. But that’s just a bunch of hypothetical (adj) rambling. It’s useless to embellish (verb) my thoughts like that. It won’t do me any good. I just want to break free from this way of thinking. Thinking that I have no purpose, that I can’t do anything useful. I wish I could just burnish (verb) my thoughts so that they are bright and happy. But that’s not the way it works. I just have to live how I always have. I guess I have never been happy.

    ***

    Mr. Long: The narrator’s voice suggests a really interesting protagonist for a story. I can almost imagine someone living inside the museum 24/7…observing this niche world of museum visitors and trying to understand the outer/real world through them.

  5. “Stop,” I yelled at my brother, Ron, who was sitting in the front seat of the car. I was gradually becoming vexed (adj) with him because he kept turning around and flinging random objects at me. “Be quiet you two or I will turn this car around and rescind (v) this trip!” I could tell my mother was trying to daunt (v) us, but my brother and I knew she wouldn’t do it. We had been driving for four hours and only had about five minutes until we reached our Aunt Kate’s house. My aunt was extremely gregarious (adj), but I thought she was odd and was an enigma (n) to me. She had a lake front house and my mother and she were very close, so we visited her as often as we could. I always had a horrible time because there was no one for me to hang out with. Ron and my cousin Steve, who is very boorish (adj), just played video games all day, and my mother visited with Uncle Paul and Aunt Kate the whole weekend. “Alright, get your things out of the trunk and go greet your Aunt Kate,” my mother told us as we pulled into their driveway. Aunt Kate came running out of the house and gave us all a big hug. “How are you? Oh, you’ve grown so tall!” she exclaimed with fervor (n). “I’m just happy that we are finally here,” I prevaricated (v). I then lugged my suitcase into the house and up the stairs. I had just finished unpacking my things into a small dresser when my mom called up the stairs to me, “Megan, put on your swimsuit, we are all going swimming!” Great, I thought. I didn’t necessarily have a penchant (n) for swimming. It wasn’t that I didn’t know how to swim; I would rather just curl up and read a book. “No thanks mom, you can go without me,” I yelled down the staircase. “Ok, if you want to come we’ll be right out front,” she replied. About five minutes later I heard the door slam. They were all enjoying the lake while I was alone upstairs. Sometimes I felt as though I didn’t really fit in with my family. I often found myself alone or miserable. It wasn’t the worst thing though I thought to myself. I was able to relish (v) the silence of the large, empty house. So, I picked through my things and grabbed my book. I always felt solace (n) when I read. Books provided infinite possibilities for me and my imagination. I began to read when I heard laughter and splashes come from outside the window. I decided to peek out and take a look. There was my brother and Steve doing handstands in the water and having a great time. I went back to the small bed and just laid there. As I stared at the blank ceiling, I could only hope for a better future.

    ***

    Mr. Long: I wonder if everyone feels this way at some point: “Sometimes I felt as though I didn’t really fit in with my family.”

  6. I always love the water, no matter how dirty it is. Everyday, after my mom is done home-schooling me, I become very garrulous (adj.) because it is that time of the day to have a little fun. And by fun, the only thing anyone could possibly think of is my magnificent backyard lake. If I don’t give all I’ve got in my work at home, my mother punishes me and I’m not allowed to go to my favorite place in the whole world. If I don’t do my work, I make sure to prevaricate (v.) to my mother so that she believes my work is done. I know this is bad and I don’t recommend lying to any family member but if you are willing to, then make sure to be very wary (adj.) of the situation. If I pay attention and I do excellent on my work, my mother curtails (v.) our session of school and I am allowed to go straight to the lake. When I’m in the lake, I love doing hand-stands, back flips, and front flips. My brothers always ask me to do different stunts in the lake and I always act in an audacious (adj.) manner. I’m pretty sure I could be the next daredevil but I would have to compete with many adversaries (n.) to become famous. Maybe if enough people come to see me, they might think of me as a paragon (n.), but I might be pushing it just a little. I wish that it would rain for a few days to fill the lake back up because every summer a small amount of water desiccates (v.) and slowly but surely my lake seems to dissapear. Maybe when I become famous, I could order a profusion (adj.) of water to fill my lake back up, so when I’m older I could come back happy. I would make sure that not a single person swims in it but me because I’m a person who is considered to be a “zealot” (n.), as my brothers have told me.

    ***

    Mr. Long: It’d be fascinating to write a quirky short story where the character had to fill the lake back up to relive certain memories in real-time.

  7. Every morning I wake up and grab my shoes. I head out the front door feeling very ebullient (adj) because I love the sensation of running. If I don’t run every morning I don’t feel exhaustive (adj). I relish (v) running more then I can delineate (v) it. I take running seriously, but the feeling I get when I’m running is indescribable. When I’m running, I feel a plethora (n) of joy and contentment, but I also feel this fervor (n), this rush of adrenalin pumping through my veins. My friends call me a zealot (n), some call me a paragon (n), and others boorishly (adv) delineate me as someone who will try and try but won’t get anywhere in life. These comments are prevalent (adj) in my life, so I show appreciation to the good and flout (v) the bad. No matter what anyone says my penchant (n) for running will never be damaged.

    ***

    Mr. Long: Confident piece. While I’d like a few definitions in the rapid-fire parts (with multiple vocab words), the overall piece works even if the reader may not understand why certain words are used.

  8. Image 2.

    I want to push myself to be the best I can be. I want to ameliorate (v.) my running skills. I know I can do anything I set my mind to. All I need is for people to bolster (v.) me and to know I am intrepid (adj.) and can do anything I want to do. I want my adversary (noun) to look at me in a wary (adj.) way and to know I am the furthest thing away from being indolent. (adj.) I want to become an audacious (adj) competitor who relishes (v.) winning. When people look at me I want them to look at me like a paragon. (noun) When they see my name I want the one word that come to their mind to be audacious. (adj.)

    ***

    Mr. Long: I’d say that same thing that I did to student #7, FYI.

  9. Every morning I get up before sunrise, and I relish (v) my three mile run, and I do not curtail (v) corners. I am a zealot (n) runner, I even have posters of my favorite runners on my wall, these pictures act as a paragon (n) of what I inspire to become. One day I plan to become a famous runner that has a profusion (n) of fans. And the only way I can reach that status is by running with a fervor (adj) personality.

    I have burgeoned (v) as a runner since I first started these three mile runs. I used to hinder (v) my ability’s, and I had no self confidence as a runner. But now I am a intrepid (adj) runner that is willing to the extra mile. I am very ebullient (adj) runner, and always will be until I reach my goal.

    ***

    Mr. Long: Re-think “fervor”, otherwise all seems to fit.

  10. He doesn’t work here, but I see him every day. The other guards call him the Enigma (noun). None of us have ever heard him speak a single word, but I suppose that’s because none of us have ever spoken a single word to him.

    Every morning he pays his entrance fee, signs out one of the handicap vehicles, and rides around the museum, leaning over and picking up whatever he finds on the floor. At first I thought he was picking up trash, just being a nice guy, but last week I saw him impassively (adv) snatch up a visitor’s book that had been set down for a moment. It was taken back with fervor (noun) by the girl to whom it belonged, and without even noticing the old man merely kept humming along in his vehicle. I wonder if his indiscriminate (adj) gathering behavior has something to do with his age. He may be passing into a sort of oblivion (noun) with the years.

    One day I decided to approach this mysterious, reticent (adj) man, just to talk to him. I’d never been bothered by his behavior, as the boss was growing to be; I had come to sort of venerate (verb) him, like a quiet old grandfather that has a hidden life story to tell. I was hoping I could elicit (verb) from him exactly what it was that he was doing day after day. My hope, however, proved to be ephemeral (adj).

    “Excuse me, sir?” I called. The man had just swooped by and grabbed a museum guide’s bag of cookies that lay waiting to be eaten during break. “What are you doing?”
    The man didn’t stop. In fact, he began to speed up.
    “Hey!” I shouted, beginning to jog along after him. “Those don’t belong to you!”
    The little vehicle, embellished (verb/adj) at the top with the man’s puff of white hair, sped away around the corner and out of sight.

    I slowed to a walk. Unsuccessfully I tried to abate (verb) my smile. Perhaps this man wasn’t such an Enigma after all. People have been known to go to drastic measures when it comes to cookies.

    ***

    Mr. Long: Love the unexpected turn in the use of this image. Clever twists. And I find myself wanting to know who this guy was, although ‘Santa’ comes to mind for some strange reason.

  11. It is an amazing sight. This picture seems disparate (adj) from the other paintings on the wall. The other paintings symbolize the modern age, but this picture takes place years ago. The man boorish (adj) behavior to everyone he met now vanished as he set his eyes on this masterpiece. Paintings about horses are prevalent (adj) throughout our time, but this one seemed unique. The man, being a perfectionist, had some ideas to ameliorate (v) the image. He believed that the detail work done in the audience was poor and wanted to complain about this to the painter himself. He thought that some indolent (adj) fool had ruined this masterpiece.

    The next day, the man went to visit the painter himself to tell him about the error. The man told the painter how he had a penchant (n) towards the pieces of work his. As the conversation progressed, the painter understood why the old man came here. The man wasn’t satisfied with his work! This vexed (v) the artist. As a result the painter banished (v) the old man from his house and never wanted to see him again.

    This was an audacious (adj) move by the old man, coming to the painter’s house to complain. In the end he got want he deserved. This taught the old man a lesson, instead of being rude and grumpy he went to work in a gregarious (adj) mood. He found his day much more relaxing, because his co-workers didn’t ignore him as much. From then on, he venerated (v) all the paintings he saw. He never complained or was impolite to anyone he met ever again.

    ***

    Mr. Long: Love how the painter comes back to stare at his own painting while its already in the museum. Opens up a lot of story ideas.

  12. Every day after school my reparation (N) for getting into a fight in school was going to the senior citizens center every Monday and Friday afternoon for three whole months. I was not excited about this community service I was being forced to pay. I was completely vexed (Adj) that the school chose my punishment to be what I detested most, old people. Old people have a certain way about them, they were always asking teenagers why their pants are so low, not to mention they have a smell about them. I walked in on my first of many days at Rivertown Senior Citizen home.
    “Hello young man. What brings you here today to volunteer?” a short lady with glasses asked me.
    “Punishment” I replied.
    A sad look crossed her face. I did not mean to be boorish (Adj) really, but this place gave me the creeps. Ever since I saw my grandpa die I’ve always been afraid one will just keel over right in front of me. What would I do? Despite my apathy (N), the lady, whose name I learned was Carol, was still gregarious (Adj) and talkative as ever.
    “This,” she pointed out “is where the seniors play games and socialize. We call it the mess hall. To the right is the desk where I work so if you have any questions feel free to ask.”
    “What is it exactly you want me to do?” I asked wary (Adj) of the answer.
    “You can just go in the mess hall and socialize with the seniors. On Fridays,” she looked at her clipboard. “Oh good you’ll be here on Fridays. On Fridays we take the seniors on a field trip, it is always really fun. Anyhoo so just start talking to them and socializing. Maybe play some games.”
    She basically shoved me into the mess hall.
    I stood there awkwardly for about three minutes until I felt someone grab my shoulder. I jumped out of my skin and back in again to see an old woman standing there.
    She said nothing. She Just stared at me.
    “Hello.” I said laconically (Adj), in as least words as I could.
    A man walked up. He was a volunteer too, his nametag read Harry.
    “I’m sorry,” Harry said. “She can’t hear you. She can barely see you.” He chuckled uneasily and walked away.
    I felt a sudden pang in my side that I didn’t know existed. I realized then how sad old people made me. Their so fragile and small. Throughout their long lives they have seen so much, many of these old folks were probably alive during the Great Depression. What pained me the most was thought that they themselves were erudite (Adj) in the subject of their fraitality and probably know the rest of their life will be ephemeral (Adj).
    I was jolted back into reality when a man started talking to me.
    “Hello sonny, my name is Hank.” It seemed everyone here was the opposite of reticent (Adj), they were not shy at all and they talked a lot.
    “Hello sir my name is Jonah. Would you like to play a card game?” I asked almost automatically.
    He rolled is eyes. “You’ve played one card game you’ve played em’ all fiftay times. To answer your question, no. No you wanna hear about me flying F-86s in Korea?”
    “Sure.” I said and he led me to a table with a checker board. We apparently talked for three hours because I looked up at the clock that read 7:00 pm.
    “7:00 already?” I asked aloud.
    Hank smiled at me. “You know you don’t have to go.”
    “Don’t worry Hank. I’ll just look forward to seeing you Friday.” The surprising thing was that I meant it.
    ****************************************
    Friday rolled around slowly as usual and afterschool I headed off to the senior center. Today was the senior’s field trip to the art museum. We rode there in little white vans that read on the side RIVERTOWN. I was assigned the job as picture taker to snap pictures to put in the scrapbooks on the lobby tables.
    Carol randomly walked up to me and smiled. “I see your starting to make friends with Hank. That is great!!”
    “Yea I really like him, he’s a good guy.”
    “I know. It is an enigma (N) that will never be solved to why his family never visits him.”
    “What do you mean?” I asked.
    “Well his family always says they are going to come but they never do. It really lets Hank down. I don’t think he’s seen them in two years.” Something averted her attention elsewhere. “Ms. Hadley that’s not for eating!” Carol raced off.
    It really bothered me how Hank’s family never visited him he most be so lonely.
    I looked up at Hank and blindly snapped his picture while he was rolling in front of a painting. I snapped it quick before he saw. Without his knowing or consent I would keep that picture forever.

    The weeks went by and by and soon my ‘punishment’ was over. I still went back to Rivertown every Monday and Friday though. All I did for three hours was talk to Hank. It was never a chore, always a pleasure. Hank taught me a lot and I clued him in on what he had been missing locked in this prison. Over the span of about thirteen months Hank and I became very good friends.
    One week I had to go to Florida for my second cousin’s third marriage. That Monday I was back I went to the senior center and greeted Carol as usual.
    “Hello Carol. How are you?”
    She had a somber look on her face but I could not ponder why.
    “Everything is just fine Jonah” She said with a slight tremor.
    I walked away not wanting to get involved in all that emotional woman stuff. I looked around for Hank but couldn’t find him. I went back into the lobby.
    “Carol, where is Hank?” I asked.
    She whimpered. “I’m so sorry Jonah.” Was all she said.
    I was utterly confused until the giant boulder fell on my head and my reason was restored.
    “He passed last week on Friday Jonah. He only asked for you.”
    I felt a lump rise to my throat. This was my entire fault, I wasn’t here, and I abandoned him.
    As if she could read my mind she stated “It was not your fault. He was old.”
    Old. The term I used to describe so many others. Through this I have learned that they are not old, they are experienced. In fact, they are the youngest spirited people I know. I was so angry and sad. I did not know what I was feeling. I just sat there in the lobby for hours watching the experience go by me.

    At Hanks funeral I finally met his family. They seemed intrepid ( Adj) in asking for the will over and over. I snarled at these people. They never really even knew their grandfather. In the reading of the will it came up that half of his belongings went to me and the other half went to charity. His ‘family’ stormed out. In the will there was a note left for me. The priest handed it to me and when I got home I opened the envelope.

    Dear Jonah,
    Over the past year you have gotten to be one of my very best friends. I know you won’t understand this but I want you to know how grateful I am to have a friend like you through the last leg of my life. My loneliness was consuming me and I actually believe meeting you has made me stronger. For your ability to make an old washed up man like me feel that way, I have left you half of my possessions. Hopefully now you will continue your strand of good deeds and make another down on his luck geezer feel as good as you made me feel. I hope the world spawns (V) more children like you. Never underestimate the power of a true friend.
    Your pal,
    Hank.

    I was in tears at dear Jonah.

    Ten years later I am still listening to the words of my great friend Hank. Every week I go to a senior citizens center and visit, and listen to all the great stories they have to tell. Hank was of coarse right, you can never underestimate the power of a true friend I live by that everyday.
    And that snapshot I took of Hank at the art museum remains in my room to remind this forever.

    ***

    Mr. Long: Given any thought to submitting this one to Calliope later this year? While your writing always has enormous potential, this one seems to be the most anchored in possibility. I’d even recommend leaving it more wide open at the end…although I don’t want to change your goals for the story. What would happen if you started your story with the way you ended it, and then let the story’s past/present intermingle in various ways?

  13. Robert is a very zealot (n) man; he shows excessive enthusiasm everywhere he goes. He is also very erudite (adj) when it comes to art. Every Saturday Robert goes to the museum. This Saturday was different though as he rolled out of his door to go to the museum. Robert had a penchant (n) for all art but especially liked art with running horses in it. Today the museum had gotten a new picture! Someone had told Robert it had running horses in it and that he would relish (n) it greatly. So off he sped down the sidewalk in his little motor chair headed for his favorite place. Thankfully there was not a plethora (n) of people on the sidewalk like usual so Robert made great time getting to the museum. Once there he asked the sage (adj) tour guide to show him to the new painting. When Robert sees the painting his eyes light up. Rodger stared in aw at the amazing painting. It was so good the artist did not need to embellish (v) it anymore than those simple details already there. After several minuets of staring at the painting Robert started to recognize it. This painting looked exactly like one his very own grandfather had painted long ago. Frantically looking for the tour guide and also very happily Robert sped up and down the aisle the picture was on. Robert asked the tour guide who the painter was and she corroborated (adj) the name of the painter. Sure enough this was the painting Robert’s granddad had painted years ago. He had thought this painting was oblivion (n) or forgotten many years ago and that his granddads talent would never be recognized. Robert had a strong urge to buy the painting but he knew his granddads fame must not be ephemeral (adj) and needed to last a long time. So to make a tribute to his granddad Robert wanted to write a commentary for the plaque by the painting to delineate (v) and explain his granddad and why the painting is so great! Robert was so excited he found his granddads painting and even though he was dead Robert would make sure it got some recognition. This was Robert’s best Saturday in a long time in all his 80 years!

  14. Image #1

    It seems as though I was a kid just a few years ago…actually, I’m eighty-two years old now. The older I get, the more ephemeral (adj) the years seem to be. Young people are oblivious (adj) to how short life really is. They don’t appreciate how quickly the years pass. They ought to realize that they should not be in such a hurry to grow up. Being old and non ambulatory is not much fun. People pass by me and look at me dismissively (adv). In actuality, I should be considered a sage (n) because of the wisdom I have gained through my life experiences. I miss the ability to walk on my own two feet, as this electric wheelchair is highly vexing (adj) and hard to control. People try not to stare at my wheelchair, but they naturally have a penchant (n) to look and then quickly look away. I am at this art museum in which there are many impassive (adj) people wandering about. I feel that many people consider elderly people as desiccated (adj), forgotten and worthless. It is not true that elderly people are apathetic (adj), but as you grow older, it’s harder to be ebullient (adj) about things. I may not have many more years to go, but that is no excuse to lie back and be indolent (adj). A museum is a place where an artist’s work lives on and can be appreciated, even if the artist has passed away. Perhaps that’s the real reason I am here. Life is so short!

    ***

    Mr. Long: Great use of the word “ambulatory”, BTW — perfect for the picture…and it’d make a fine SAT word, now that I think of it. (wink)

  15. “Grandpa! Grandpa! Can we please leave you know I have to get home for Gossip Girls.” Amy yelled at her grandfather from across the hushed museum room. Her Grandfather shot her a less than satisfied look and buzzed past multiple pieces of art in his speedy chair. Amy and her grandpa were very close and she had taken him to this exhibit for his birthday because he is a zealot (n) when it comes to artwork, a true fanatic. Grandpa was thrilled with the generosity of his granddaughter but this did not ameliorate (v) or help improve the rude attitude she was now displaying. The grandfather simply turned his chair around, smiled at his granddaughter, and they left the museum in a great hurry. Amy did not allow her granddad to navigate his wheelchair and she simply pushed him as fast as she could to the old Cadillac in the parking lot. The fervor (n) of the situation was rising as Amy became more and more intense about seeing the season finale of her favorite show. All the while even as Amy went sixty through three schools zones her granddad just wore a silent smile. As the car swerved into the driveway with a loud squeal Amy sprinted inside forcing her granddad to fend for himself. Luckily this elderly man was an intrepid (adj) senior citizen and he did not hesitate to hop all the way to the front door on his one good leg displaying his fearless nature. When he reached the door, which Amy had forgotten to close, he found his beloved granddaughter collapsed on the floor in tears. She looked up at her granddad lacking her usual garrulous (adj) and talkative nature and simply stated “no cable.” Grandpa smiled as he remembered that one bill his retirement fund would not cover and gave a loud chuckle. Amy sprung from the floor and stared intently at her granddad as if she were about to truly tell him off. And as her mouth began to open and the climax of the situation approached she began to laugh a little as well.
    Amy could not bring herself to apologize for her rude actions at the museum but her granddad did not seem to mind especially since he felt guilty that his inability to pay impeded (v) and blocked her ability to watch her favorite show. As the night progressed Amy made a birthday dinner for the two of them and then proceeded to look up on her laptop the finale episode of her show. Though the capabilities of her computer only allowed fifteen minutes of the show to come through Amy relished (v) every minute and became cheerful due to her extreme enjoyment of this show. As the granddad observed the joy his granddaughter received from this show he decided that no matter the cost he must get cable for the only member of his family that tried to make his birthday special. The following morning Amy got up and gave her granddad his plethora (n) of medicines both with needles and pill forms helping a great amount with his many medicines considering he often forgot certain pills. Amy’s smile and sweet disposition goaded (v ) her grandfather to choke down his last pill and without her urging it seemed he never would take all of his medicine. When eleven oclock arrived Amy kissed her Grandpa and ran out the door promising to be back in three days to spend more time with him. Grandpa just smiled as always and buzzed his chair over to the counter to attempt another Sudoku while he finished his rice pudding.
    Upon finishing his bowl of rice pudding Grandpa’s nurse arrived and he explained to her his dilemma relating to his lack of cable. The nurse simply smiled and said that he could talk to his financial adviser and see if any funds could pay for the right channel to watch Gossip Girls, but she doubted this was possible. When the nurse finally left and grandpa had his three hours of freedom before the next nurse was on duty he dialed the number for the bank and made the proper arrangements. Grandpa delineated (v) his actions to no one because he was not a talkative individual and explanation was beyond his comfort zone. As the next day came Amy arrived at her grandad’s home prepared for their habitual Wednesday picnic in the park and she loaded him into the car. It was a beautiful day and they ate tons of jello, rice pudding, and prune juice, the only edible things within grandpa’s diet. As they began to make their way home Amy looked to her grandpa in horror as she saw the paleness of his face and heard the difficulty he was having breathing. She knew from previous experiences that he needed a certain injection and so she began to speed home. She went sixty miles per hour through three schools zones and swerved into the driveway. She sprinted inside leaving her granddad to wait for the injection in the car, knowing she could prevent a stroke for him. However grandpa knew what his granddaughter would find in his home and somehow managed to hobble to the front door. As he reached the open doorway he found his beloved granddaughter crying on the floor. Only the words, “you have no medicine grandpa” came from her mouth and the old man managed a smile and the phrase, “but I have cable.” With that the loving grandfather collapsed to the ground completely content with his life and decisions.

    ***

    Mr. Long: So many possibilities for this story went through my mind in the first half. Made me really like the “but I have cable” comment at the end. Funny, human, unexpected. Great details and commitment to fleshing out the story overall. Well done.

  16. The only way she could abate (v) her stress was by running for miles until she became focused on the stress on her lungs rather than in her life. At work she made her peers look indolent (adj) by being a fierce adversary (n) in debates on what the company’s strategy should be. She even daunted (v) her superiors with her profusion (n) of knowledge on almost every subject. Although she was seen as the strongest at work, she was the loneliest. Her conversations with her coworkers were always ephemeral (adj) because she appeared haughty (adj) when speaking of topics she knew well. She really did not want to appear ‘snobby.’ She only wanted to impress everyone. Despite her huge success, she was jealous of the mail room attendant. She was eclectic (adj) and didn’t care what others thought of her. The woman thought to herself that her garrulous (adj) was simply resting, waiting to surface itself. She decided on Monday she would be nicer to people and let them have some of the glory and maybe her fastidious (adj) reputation would fade.

    ***

    Mr. Long: Liked how you didn’t let the running be the main topic.

  17. (This isn’t very well written. I tried but I couldn’t figure out how to make it sound right. This is the best I could do.)

    It was funny. Before I had simply thought of her as my Granny, but as I watched those old photographs play upon the wall, she became more. She was somebody’s newborn baby, she was a feisty little girl. She was a beautiful teenager with superb taste in shoes, which she had a profusion(n) of. She was a loving wife and mother, she was my grandmother, she was everything. The beautiful pictures showed how she had burgeoned(v) throughout the years. There was one of her and her brother doing cartwheels in a pond, and one of her hanging sheets out to dry on a windy day. With different fervors(n) of emotion I laughed and I wept thinking of her. In my train of thought I started to think of how I ended up here.

    I can tell you what it used to be like. Well, kind of. She had been sick for the majority of my life, but the difference was that she used to know me. I remember the doorbell would ring and I would run to the door. I’d throw it open and she’d step up, beaming. She’d hold her hands out and hold my face and say, “There’s my baby. You’re so beautiful.”

    That period of time was all too ephemeral(adj). Slowly she started to deteriorate. Alzheimer’s disease didn’t take her as much as much as it dragged her. It got to the point where she couldn’t walk or eat by herself. We eventually made the decision to put her in a nursing home. Visiting her was one of the hardest things I’ve had to face. Before when she looked at me her face lit up and you could just feel how much she loved you. Now, her eyes were cold and distant. She looked at me like she never knew me, like I was a stranger. She didn’t know my name, she didn’t know my face. I was in oblivion(n). I was nothing to her.

    Every time I saw her it’d get worse. She couldn’t talk. She wouldn’t even respond to my smile anymore. Her eyes saw right through me. To her I was analogous(adj) to a veil or a deep, solemn fog.

    Then there was the first time she was admitted to the hospital. The doctors said she was going to die for sure and we should prepare to lose her. The hospice nurses were on duty and my uncle flew down from Washington. I was simply daunted(v) by the whole thing; we all were. I refused to leave and I spent that night at the hospital. I achieved two and a half hours of sleep on the floor, during which I woke up to a room full of my family. Everyone was asleep besides my granny and my mom. My grandmother was fighting to say something to my mother, but she simply could not. My mother, not knowing I was awake, started to cry. It broke my heart to see her so deeply suffer, but I didn’t dare breathe a word. I rocked myself back to sleep to the sound of her saying, “Oh, momma.”

    To everyone’s surprise, she pulled through. It was a good thing but we all knew that it would happen again, and it did. She had several teeth pulled, which wasn’t supposed to be a big deal. But one day it started bleeding a little. One day it started bleeding a lot.

    She was rushed to the hospital, and there we were again. Her blood pressure was dangerously low, she was bleeding profusely from the mouth, and she had a UTI. If this didn’t foreshadow the end, the only words I had heard her say in a year came out of her mouth that first day. Those words, or rather that word, was her mother’s name. We knew that she would be departing, if it wasn’t stated outright it was at least implicit(adj). Now all we could do was wait.

    I prayed for strength and tried to remain relatively gregarious(adj). Hours upon hours were spent in that hospital room. We talked to her and we watched her, but she wasn’t conscious to see us there. I like to believe she could feel us even though she was suffering. The sound of her struggle to breathe still haunts me sometimes.

    She didn’t die in my presence, my mom had made me go home. It was for the best though, she had long suffered and deserved to go home. The majority of the devastation came from the finalization of her death. For the last few years it had seemed as if she was already dead. Now it was just official. I just wish she could have left with her memories. They must have been wonderful. I wish I knew what they were, but her life had been curtailed(v) too early for me to ask.

    I only have two regrets:

    1)I didn’t visit her more often in the final years. I wish I had just sucked up my emotions and been there with her. It would have been worth it.

    2) I can no longer remember what it sounded like when she spoke my name.

    ***

    Mr. Long: I’m humbled by the last line of the story: “when she spoke my name.”

  18. (Continuation of Week 7 Visual Vocab Story-)

    She watched the aqua-animals rise and fall again, as they did daily in bright fluroescent colors. Salacia had been sitting on the ground for quite so time now. The cold concrete was starting to evolve into a pain. Salacia’s mind was elsewhere when she was ripped out of her state of oblivion (n). Finley, again. Finley’s sparkling eyes gave nothing away of what his true intention was, but uninvitedly sat down. Salacia forced herself to stare back at the leaping yellow wolves now, in a combat of power.
    “Are you ever going to talk to me?”, he asked. It must be a bad trait to have, to be garrulous (adj). Constantly having to look for a way to grab a person’s attention and make them break their peaceful silence. Salacia sighed, pulled her knees up to her chin, and for the first time in two lock-jawed days, she replied his question.
    “If I have one conversation with you, will you then-“, she was curtailed (v) by Finley who immediatley jumped into action; “I will hang myself from the shower rafter if that will coax a sentence out of you.” He flashed a smile of ecstasy. Salacia had to grin.
    “ I was going to say, would you then jump into the fountain and sing for me.” Finley’s smile faded. Salacia had cracked the human code already, embarrassment was far more a punishment than death was to them. The good thing about Finley was he was intrepid (adj). “I will, if you talk to me.”
    Salacia made sure he held onto their deal with a daunting glare. Afterwards, Finley immediately got to work: “Why were you flouting (v) for the past week?”.
    “Who wouldn’t have?”, Salacia replied back. She would have imagined him to rescind (v) their conversation, but he laughed. Slacia stared at him.
    “ I guess, you’re right about that.” Finley gave her a smile of levity (n). “So, where’s that big shiny-thing you carry around?”
    Salacia’s mouth fell open. How had he found out about the mermaid brooch? Finley meticulously (advrb) went on, “I don’t want to steal it or anything. I was just curious. When I saw you with it, it was almost like” he was searching for the right words. “Almost like you found an answer or a treasure or something. Your face was so serene and peaceful it was just, angelic.” He stopped. Salacia still gaped at him.
    “I don’t know what it is, but I know it was shiny!” Finley attempted to lighten the mood. He succeeded. Salacia laughed so loudly that people started staring. Her back fell onto the floor where she continued her hysterics. Now, Salacia new why Finley had picked her as his victim. Maybe this conversation wouldn’t be such a waste of time after all. If she was lucky, Salacia may even elicit (v) the answer to her mission.

  19. This is a little weird and different. But I think it has a good point to prove.

    Tick. Tick. Tick. I sit here. Just waiting. I know not what to do. Steady, steady now. It is hard to keep to the beat. Just breathe, breathe….

    I am usually reticent (adj) and I rarely communicate sporadically. You can say that I am very precise and punctual, but I just hate waiting….

    Sometimes it is too quite; they can hear my heart beat. Tick. Tick. Tick. The master of the house visits here every day, not recognizing my full being. At ten ’till three she comes, happy and ebullient (adj) to see view her gallery. Not me. She does not acknowledge me, even though I keep her on track. Oh, how she wastes me. Am I only good for embellishing (adj) this room? This quiet, magnificent room?

    I will shout! This will be my time! Ha ha! I do not care if you notice or not! I will tell you what I have to say, and it is true! Listen, though, because you are old, and are wasting away every fleeting moment of your life. Your apathy (noun)for me might change if…..

    Ah. I do not know what to do. I do not have long. I do not like the thought of making this malicious (adj) act. But I want her to notice me. She had to have wanted me, surely. Someone, at least, wanted me…right? I was spawned (adj.) for a specific reason by someone. Surely I am loved by them? Someone did burnish (verb) my facing. Someone bolstered (adj) my backing so I could hang here. They did, I know it. I am original, like no other.

    I will do it. I will equivocate (adj) about the time of day. I will lie and she will listen. I demand her acknowledgement. I want to be noticed for what I do.

    Warily (adverb) I will wait, till nineteen passed three. I will make sure I do not slip up and perform my usual act.
    ****
    Here, here she comes! As always. She’s admiring the horses over there again. I am a work of art, too. She will see.

    Its 30 seconds till nineteen passed three. I do not think that I could wait any longer. Those ephemeral (adj short-lived minutes seem like hours; and I would know.

    “Coo-coo! Coo-coo! Coo-coo!” Task achieved. She looked up abruptly, I guess she had fallen asleep. My master does get exhausted quickly. Did she not notice? I have just made my first mistake in my whole life-time. She is leaving. Leaving me here, still completely unacknowledged.

    Will she ever take the time to know that I exist? Can she not stop for three seconds and take a break from her routined schedule? I have a feeling pulsing through me. I do not think she ever has, or ever will take the time to acknowledge my time, and my legacy.

  20. Image Two:

    It was two o’clock and I had just finished a meeting with my coach. He was telling me how much potential I had and how easy it would be for me to ameliorate (verb) my time, with hard work and dedication. He said he knew I wasn’t an indolent (adj) person and therefore thought it would be extremely easy for me to improve my time to the standard I had set at the beginning of the year. Besides, I had a penchant (noun) for running anyway, so the determination aspect would not be a problem.

    He always told me, “Your only adversary (noun) is yourself,” meaning I could accomplish anything. The only thing standing in between me and my achievements was my work ethic. I strived to be a paragon (noun) when it came to running the mile. I wanted my run to be flawless, with an outstanding time. So I decided to corroborate (verb) my coaches thoughts of my dedication by running around the track every day after practice for an extra hour, as well as an hour before school started.

    I began to burgeon (verb) into a better athlete, with a much more impressive time. I venerated (verb) my coach a great deal for believing in me and having the faith I needed to succeed. He was very gregarious (adjective) and therefore extremely kind to me. “Job well done. Your task is exhaustive. You have completed what I asked you to do, I am extremely impressed.” He continued praising my improvement as I began to stretch for my morning mile.

  21. It’s amazing how intrepid (adj.) you can feel when all that lies ahead is an open path. As i run every night around 8 I go out to clear my head and to take in all i have been given. I have been blessed with so many gifts in my life i couldn’t say thank you enough. So when i’m running i take a backpack along with me and in it i keep all my thoughts. Now i know not literally can i keep all my thoughts in a backpack but i do keep it empty so when i need to put away a thought and always have it there with plenty of room. All my life i have been wary (adj.). I have been careful of my actions and always been afraid to take chances. But i found someone who showed me that taking chances are worth it sometimes. The story goes…….. I was out running one evening and i tripped over my shoe lasses that were untied. So as i bent down to tie them I saw a guy running. He ran past me then stopped and asked if i was ok. I told him nothing to worry about and he told me if i didn’t mind if he could run with me. I told him it was fine but to not make a usual thing he does. So as we were running i was not myself. I was not garrulous (adj.) at all like i usually am. I probably said two words the whole time. But he started talking and i tended to flow into the conversation without it being awkward. We stopped at the bench up ahead and rested for a while. By then it was late around 11 and I said i had to get going but it was “great meeting you”, i said. He yelled after i took a few steps and said “Is there anyway i could have your number?” I stormed off furious he would even ask. I think i left him totally confused but I didn’t care i wasn’t falling for the charming act just so he could take me on a date. As i walked away very audacious (adj.) and bold i tried not to think about him but for some reason couldn’t get him out of my mind. He was cute, athletic and tall, what more could i want? But i knew i realized that i wasn’t going to take a chance on someone who didn’t even know who i was. So the next night i headed out for my jog and i see him, trying to run supper fast i accidentally lock eyes with him and have no other choice than to stop and talk. He said not that its important any more but “why wouldn’t you give me your number the other night, we had such a great time?” I looked at him and was scared to say im just not a chance taker but instead i sat reticent (adj), uncommunicative. He looked at me and for the first time in my life i felt like someone was looking through me and seeing things that i couldn’t let shine to the world. He gazed at me and said “do you always wear your feelings on the inside or just with me because again not that its important now but sometimes giving someone a chance isn’t the worst idea.” I sat there not knowing what to say. He turned around and started running and as i sat there i watched an amazing man run farther and farther away. Months passed and i didn’t see him. Even though i thought of him every day after what he told me i longed to see him again and tell him i have changed that i will take a chance on him but i figured i would never get the chance again. One day as i was running it started to rain and it was already cold to begin with so the rain didn’t help at all. Rain around this area was never prevalent (adj.), rain only came during the hot months? But i knew today had been a bad day anyways so i told myself i was going to run in it even if i got sick. I started running and goading (v.) myself to go faster. I couldn’t stop…..i wouldn’t stop. I was running away all the sorrow that i had kept inside me for so long and all the words i wished i could have said to him that i didn’t. As a levity (adj.) came over me i began to feel myself running father than i ever had and all of a sudden out of no where i see a blur through the plethora (adj.) of rain. As tears and rain were streaming down my checks all turned to tears when i saw it was him. He ran and picked me up into his arms and told me he could love me forever and asked me to marry him! Without any hesitation i said “YES!!” As i stood and relished (v.) the greatest moment of my life i realized that all my quietness and thoughts that i impeded (v.) from showing was all a mistake. The reason i am who i am today is because of the man that came and turned my whole world around. Until i found him i carried the weight of the world upon my shoulders and was very meticulous (adj.) about who i let in close enough to get to know me. I have made a lot of regrets in my life but the one regret i had turned out to be the greatest success any girl, especially me, could ask for. We have been married now for 6 years and couldn’t love each other anymore, yet we passed the limit of normal love the day we said “I DO.”

  22. Saturday was the big race, so today was a day to ameliorate (verb) the state record. The competition was going to be fierce and intrepid (adj.) like the last race where seconds count like hours in the real world. This race was going to be different though and she was going to redeem herself by the defeat of her adversary (noun). In this race she had to show her audacious (adj.) personality on the track. The following week the big day started as the sun rolled out from behind the awaking clouds. She had been waiting for this day with fervor (noun) of emotions and it was finally here. All of her hard work, dedication and un levity (noun) attributes to track would soon be worth the sweat and tears. Even though the winner is an enigma (noun) till the ending seconds of the race, she just knew that this time there would be no need to count seconds. Her competition gave off a haughty (adj.)/ malicious (adj.) type of personality. In the end she proved to herself that with dedication and love for something you can achieve anything if you work hard to achieve it.

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