SEM2 Q4 #1: VISUAL VOCAB STORY — MANDATORY ENTRY

NEW RULES for 4th QUARTER for ALL ENTRIES:

  • 1 entry for a “C”; 2 entries for a “B”; 3 entries for an “A”.
  • Length:  Each entry must be a minimum of 3 full paragraphs
  • Paragraphs:  Each paragraph must be 5+ sentences.
  • Any entry that is less than 3 paragraphs — and entries with paragraphs less than 5 sentences – are not guaranteed credit.

NOTE: This is a MANDATORY entry that receives 2 types of credit.

  • credit as a ‘quiz’ grade (based on quality)
  • credit as one of the blog entries.

WORD LIST:

  • austere – severely simple and unornamented
  • censure – severe criticism
  • disabuse – to correct a false impression; undeceive mentally
  • flout – to reject; mock; show contempt for
  • heresy – an opinion that contradicts established principles
  • hierarchy – a formally ranked group
  • inconsequential – unimportant
  • innate – present from birth
  • instigate- to get something started
  • luminous – issuing light

IMAGE #1 link: http://tinyurl.com/cjb23q

bottle

IMAGE #2 link: http://tinyurl.com/cs33l6

snow

IMAGE #3 link: http://tinyurl.com/6s7t7w

cereal

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82 responses to “SEM2 Q4 #1: VISUAL VOCAB STORY — MANDATORY ENTRY

  1. Trough the trees I watched the sun go down as I walked through the snow covered forest. I was just coming back from running diagnostics on the perimeter cameras for my bunker before it got dark. I am a soldier for the Global Alliance, the alliance of all nations on Earth under one unified government. I was born under the Alliance, but it hasn’t always been around. About 50 years ago the world was composed of two countries, the East and the West. The East believed that the West wanted to take all their money and spend on luxuries for themselves. The West believed that the East wanted all their farmland which the East didn’t have very much of. This conflict of suspicion lasted for years until a man from the West lived in both the East and the West and did studies in both countries and found that these suspicions were both false. After he disabused (v) (undeceived mentally) the two nations, they were so amazed and so relieved that they both asked him to lead them with his wisdom. He decided to unite the two nations under one government and call it the Global Alliance.

    Now this perfect nation lived in peace and didn’t need an army until an old general of the old Eastern army got tired of not having anything to do. He contacted a number of old officers and quickly formed a secret hierarchy (n) (formally ranked group) of former military personnel. The group secretly censured (v) (severely criticized the Alliance in the criminal underworld, trying to get support. After they had gathered some strength, the general decided to try to restart the old suspicions and instigate (v) (start) a war between the two former nations that his organization could fight in. However, the Alliance government found out and declared laws against organized militias and conspiracies to start wars. The general’s group flouted (v) (showed contempt for and mocked) the government’s laws and did not disband. The general decided his group was strong enough to take on the weak, unprotected Alliance, he declared war on the Global Alliance. He named his organized group the Veteran’s Militia.

    The Alliance quickly drafted and trained soldiers after the first few attacks. Since the militia was small compared to the enormity of the Alliance, they used guerilla style attacks. This is how I was conscripted into armed service when I was 19. Now it has been 3 years since and I have been hardened by service. It was dark in the forest now, but I close enough to our bunker that I could see the glow of the luminous (adj) (light issuing) beacons on the outer wall. As I neared the bunker, however, I felt something watching me. I have an innate (adj) (present since birth) sense of things watching me. Usually I was right. When I was walking through the forest I thought it was just a perimeter camera and so inconsequential (adj) (unimportant), but there were no cameras in that area. I put my guard up and quickly moved toward the austere (adj) (simple and unornamented) bunker. As I approached the door to the uninteresting, gray wall, I heard a shout I turned to see 6 figures in white camouflage jump up and run toward me as the door opened. I knew they were trying to get in, so I had to hold them until the door shut. I was ready to fight when a hidden auto gun on the wall cut all three down in front of me. The uninteresting wall just saved my life.

  2. It had been several weeks since residents first began moving into the new homes, just built alongside a patch of still untamed forest. The houses were bland and austere (adj, simple, common), very much out of place next to the magnificence of the wild trees. But it was not the new neighborhood that was as much out of place as the native boy who still lived in the forest next to them. In the hierarchy (noun, ranked group) of force, modern men stand above any native peoples, and the boy’s tribe had fled the area as soon as construction began. But he had refused to leave. It was heresy (noun, opinion contradicting established principles) among his people to abandon the tribe, but to him it was even worse to abandon his home. So he stayed.

    In the summer, after school let out, my family moved in to one of the drab yellow houses. I was the only one who ever spotted the boy watching us from the trees farther off, and I didn’t tell anyone about him. I would be sitting in the backyard, and I would see him, a shadow several yards outside our fence, watching me. I assumed that he hated me and my family for living where he had once hunted and wandered freely. But I was wrong.

    It took several weeks, but we gradually came to know each other. We were about the same age, so we were naturally drawn to one another. The boy had an innate (adj, present from birth) quality of curiosity, and it had been he who’d instigated (verb, gotten started) the relationship between us. He was fascinated with the strange, modern way in which my family lived, and he wanted me to teach him all about it. No minute detail was inconsequential (adj, unimportant). I was likewise interested in his life, wild and alone in the forest. I wanted to learn, too.

    He wanted to know about the kinds of foods we ate. So, one day I brought him a bowl of Fruit Loops. At first he was mostly interested in the bowl and spoon, and in his broken English he asked me about what they were made of and where I had gotten them. Then his attention turned to the cereal. What brightly colored food! Such a thing was never found in nature. Didn’t I know that if I ate a frog or a bug or a berry with such bright colors that I could be poisoned?

    I tried to diabuse (verb, correct a false impression) his perspective. The colors were made by dyes, I told him, or chemicals or something. I guessed that the Fruit Loops had really probably been a tannish color before they’d been bleached and colored, and that they probably didn’t have any fruit in them at all.

    I knew that the boy was still feeling censure (noun, severe criticism) toward the bizarre colorful food, but he did not flout (verb, reject, show contempt for) it openly to me. He wanted to show me what kinds of foods he ate.

    The next morning, I went out into the backyard to find him waiting where we always met, on the other side of my fence. He was holding a stone dish, and his eyes were luminous (adj, glowing) with pride. He handed me the dish. On it were three biscuits each with a hole in it like a doughnut, all made from wild grains and baked on the stone. Each biscuit was soaked in a different sauce; one looked blue like blueberry, another deep purple like blackberry, and the third pinkish like raspberry.

    “Fruit Loops,” he said, grinning. “Real Fruit Loops.”

    I laughed, picked one up, and took a bite. It was amazing! And it actually tasted like fruit! I couldn’t believe he’d invented this elaborate dish for me, when all I’d done for his breakfast yesterday was pour some hard, synthetic material into a bowl. As I finished off the last of the “real Fruit Loops,” I promised myself that I would make it up to him. I would show him my Game Boy.

    But the next day, when I brought it out to him, he was able to top me again. After letting me show my favorite games to him, while only watching with mild interest, he led me to the tallest tree in the forest where he lived. He helped me up to the highest limb, and he showed me the sunset.

  3. An austere (adj.) (severely simple and unornamented) bottle of Dr.Pepper sat on a bench in front of a yellow wall. On the wall above the bottle lay a poster that said “Big Brother is Watching you.” Wow. I guess I can’t take that bottle. I mean I’m hot but the drink is inconsequential (adj. unimportant) even though its my favorite drink since I was innate(n. present from birth). Its 1984 in the USA, and yes George Orwell was right. I basically have a simple life thats dull and not great. It all changed when I broke a rule.

    Wait I’m getting ahead of myself, lets start from the beginning. I’m Mr.Gibson. I was part of a hierarchy (n. a formally ranked goup) of a Special Army group that ran missions in Vietnam called the 7th calvary. We rode into battle on these helicopters called Hueys, and because of us, The US won the Vietnam war. This should’ve ended the Cold War, but it instigated (v. to get something started) Russia to promote communism in all of Eurasia, that the only countries that were not communist were Taiwan, Vietnam, and Japan. It was a very rough time. Bombings on the US soil and in NATO countries. Most of them coming from terrorists around the world. People were making censures (n.severe criticism) about how our govenrment wasn’t capable of protecting us. So our government initiated a secuirty operation, that monitors us, makes sure we don’t make heresies(n. an opinion that contradicts established principles) is , and just basically make sure we aren’t commies.

    Well one day I just flouted(v.to reject) these security devices. The next day I went to that same place where the Dr.Pepper stood. I took the Dr.Pepper and drank it. A luminous(adj. issuing light) light flashed on me. There was the police. Oh great. So the next thing I know I get taken to this place that looked on the outside a dull prison. When I went inside the outside look diabused(v. to correct a flase impression), my flase impression. It was basically a paradise. Somebody took me into a room, fed me a good meal, and gave me another bottle of Dr Pepper. Then a guy came in and said you know we want you to lead an army group into Russia.

  4. It was a hot summer day, when I came inside to have a drink. I grabbed a bottle of water and headed back outside to resume the neighborhood game of soccer. It was at this point that I saw a rather austere bottle sitting next to the house. When I started to approach it there was a shout saying, “I hope you ain’t thinkin about drinkin my soda! I mean it doesn’t taste good so you wouldn’t want it anyway.”, I thought to myself, “Soda, what’s that?” My curiosity was instantly triggered and I had to what this magical looking drink was.

    I decided that I had to ask what it was, but when I did the other kids, a few years older than me and in the hierarchy of the neighborhood, started to censure and flout me. They said “It’s always been innate that you were a fool from birth. This made me feel like an idiot, so I decided to laugh it off and continue with the game. I couldn’t, however, get the question out of my head, “What was that bubbly liquid?” I decided to ask my dad, who was also playing. When the ball was on the other side of our makeshift field I asked, “Is a soda a type of lotion?” My dad began to laugh heartily and decided to disabuse me by saying, “No, my dear boy it is a type of drink. Later we can run into town and I’ll buy you one.” I shouted, “Really! Thank you so much dad.”

    As we arrived in town I ran to the general store to get a soda. I went to the cashier and said, “Do you have any…SODAS, that’s it!” He started to chuckle and said, “Why yes I believe we do, here let me get you one. What kind would you like?” I tried my best to describe the bottle to him, but it was a few attempts before he found the right one. When I saw that bottle it seemed to be luminous. I grabbed it and paid him the 25 cents, running happily out to meet my dad. With my first sip I thought to myself, “This is heresy, they lied to me, this drink is amazing!”

    When I got back I showed the older boys and they started to laugh and then said, “Boy you better give me that soda.” I told them no and explained that I had just gotten and it was my first soda I’ve ever had. The oldest one said, “Are you trying to instigate something boy. Just give me the soda already.” I yelled no and they tried to take it from me by grabbing at it. During the commotion my dad came to see what was happening, to his surprise I was being wrestled to the ground. My dad started to yell at them to get off of me, but it was too late, my precious soda was spilt all over the ground. I started to cry and I heard the oldest boy say, “It’s inconsequential anyway, I didn’t even want the soda in the first place.” After the boys left my dad came over to comfort me, but it wasn’t ok. I had lost my soda and everything seemed dimmer. My dad said that he had something that he thought would help me, so I reluctantly followed him inside. To my surprise my dad presented me with another soda, except this one was even better than the last one. It was called a Br. Pepper.

  5. I guess you could measure our friendship in Dr. Pepper. Ever since Chelsie and I met 13 years ago, those maroon cans and clear bottles have been around. When we were young, it was just something for our parents, or her older brother. Only on occasion would we be allowed to have any. Some might call this an inconsequential (unimportant, adj) detail, but for me it’s a way of judging what was going on. Sometimes we would want to stay up really late at sleepovers and have several so we could stay awake. Those Dr. Peppers instigated (started, verb) many nights of us acting crazy. Then around 7th grade, I stopped drinking soda, so it was just Chelsie, but the cans were still around. Just this last year even, those cans slowed down a lot. It seemed like those sodas were an innate (present from birth, adj) part of us.
    When Chelsie’s food allergies got so bad that she couldn’t even have Dr. Pepper, things almost felt off. It seemed so odd that only our families were drinking it. Chelsie was pretty much addicted to it, so she got a little grouchy without it sometimes. Then about a month later, the doctors said that the reason why she was allergic was because of the corn syrup. She couldn’t have the corn, which we added to her two page long list of food allergies. Then we realized, Dublin Dr. Pepper doesn’t have corn syrup! It only had sugar. Our previous thoughts had been disabused (to correct a false impression, verb). She could still have Dr. Pepper; she just had to get the cane sugar. So those glass bottles started showing up all over her house, and mine when she came over. Chelsie decided the bottles were too austere (severely simple and unornamented, adj) so they became her art projects. Her food allergies were really bad so she would sometimes get sick, and not know she had eaten something she was allergic to. The bottles became her focus. She would color them as she was laying in bed, one by one adding personality to the bland. She colored them for all her friends, using their favorite colors, occasionally incorporating their names. I remember the day she asked me what color I wanted mine to be as we talked on the phone. I said green and blue, and she told me that she already knew that, so she had already been coloring it. She has the bottles all over her room. They are her form of decorations. We use them as a messaging system. We write little notes and have messages in bottles. It’s more fun for me, because I can stick them in whatever bottle I want and she has to look for them. I guess we are convinced that we don’t talk enough since we have to write letters.
    Her brother offers extreme censure (severe criticism, noun) for the bottles. He is convinced they are stupid, but he just doesn’t understand us. Whenever he decides to flout (to mock, verb) our little system, we just ignore him. We have better things to do than listen to him tell us that we are stupid and make no sense. Like make our own version of the board game Guess Who. Yep, you read that right. We replaced all the people in the original game with pictures of people we know, and some inside jokes. But guess what else is there. That’s right, Dr. Pepper. We have a card dedicated to it on our board game.
    I guess it just proves how it really is an oddly important factor in our friendship. Don’t get me wrong, we could still be friends without it, but it’s just something that remained constant. It reminds us of all the times we hang out. It falls somewhere in the middle of the hierarchy (formally ranked group, noun) of our friendship. Actually we don’t have an official hierarchy of friendship, but maybe we will soon. Really soon. Since I am going to her house tonight. And maybe, I will have a Dr. Pepper, even though I don’t drink soda, just for old times sake.
    I don’t really know how it came to play such an important role in out lives, but if someone tries to tell me it is meaningless, I will point out that that is heresy (an opinion that contradicts established principles, noun). I know that our friendship isn’t based on a soda, but the constant is nice to have. Chelsie and I have been best friends since we were 3, and I remember that constant even from then. I remember when our parents wouldn’t let us have any, and how the cans looked so luminous (issuing light, adj) sitting in the refrigerator. But above that, I remember how much Chelsie and I have been through together. The good and the bad. I remember how I have a friend who I can always trust, and she has that kind of friend in me.

  6. A slow, steady plume of smoke rose from one of the shacks. The Animal Keepers stood silently on the cliff of ice that overlooked the small village, taking into account every nook and cranny of each shack and alleyway. It was almost midnight, and a long cool breeze blew against the anxious Spirits and their respective tribes who were waiting to begin the invasion. Only the Night Force was available for the battle against the men tonight, and it was more advantageous to begin the attack when the men were unprepared in order to alleviate the losses for us. We could not attack until every shack was stricken silent. Since the men couldn’t see like the owls and hear like the bats, they were at a severe disadvantage; disoriented and blind in the dark.

    We had not wished to instigate (verb, to get something started) war with the men. We had thought humans would allow us to co-inhabit the frozen tundra peacefully, but the men quickly disabused (verb, undeceive mentally) our generosity. They cut down our forests and burned our trees. They hunted our brothers in the forests and left their hides to harden in the sun; and gutted our allies in the seas and polluted our rivers where our cubs drink. They had an innate (adjective, instinctive) air of malevolence about them; it seemed as if any sort of empathy was considered heresy (noun, an opinion contradicting established standards) in their cold world. It started out small; whenever a hunter entered our forests the Wolves would punish him to send a message to the rest of their killers. But the villages responded by sending out more and more hunters, systematically wiping out almost all of the Wolf packs in the surrounding area, including mine. Once we realized that the men would not disestablish their savage manners, we had to call for our Spirits to aid us in our bid for survival.

    The Animal Keepers are the army of the Animal Congregation and are divided into a simple hierarchy (noun, a formally ranked group). At the bottom are the regulars; the animals that were born in the forest and lived their lives with their pack. Above them are their Protectors, the ones who volunteer to preserve the lives of the regulars no matter what cost. In return, the regulars will hunt for them and supply them with food and shelter. The Protectors are a very dedicated class of animal, among them are the most loyal and respectful animals in our Kingdom. Each pack of animals is assigned five Protectors, and for every twenty Protectors there is a Spirit. The Spirits are the oldest and wisest animals in their respective tribe; one Spirit was elected from the hundreds of Protectors guarding over the packs. Above the Spirits there was one, sole Guardian. We have only had one Guardian for the last one hundred years. I’ve never seen the Guardian, we only receive messages and orders from him through the Spirits. I am one of the few Protectors left of the Wolf tribe, and therefore relatively inconsequential (adjective, unimportant) to the operation of the Animal Congregation.

    “Why can’t we just launch the attack now?” asked Yari, one of my fellow Protectors. He had fought many battles with me throughout our years together, and although he continually received censure (noun, severe criticism) for his impatience and temper, he was my best friend. “We cannot launch the attack until the men are asleep. If we attacked now, we would surely suffer more losses than we can afford. You know that, Yari, be patient,” replied Rey, our Wolf Spirit. Rey has been our Wolf Spirit since I was a small cub. I can even remember the day he was inducted into the Spirit clan. Even though his heart is warm, his eyes retain a cold austerity (adjective severely simple) that allows me to keep my distance from him. “Yes, sir,” submitted Yari. It was not wise to flout (verb, mock) the authority of Rey, or any Spirit for that matter. But Rey was especially dangerous. It has been one year since his family was killed in the purges of the Wolves. His son was going to be a Protector.

    The luminous (adjective, issuing light) window in the shack with the smoke faded into a black darkness. I could feel Rey and Yuri tense beside me, and the rest of the owls, wolves, bats, and bears alike began to shift into their formations. The invasion was to begin.

  7. I had been standing on that austere (adj) or severely simple porch of that austere cabin for over three weeks. The old wood of the walls and floor smelled rotten in the crisp morning air. The small overhanging above where I stood swayed dangerously covered in its pile of snow. The winds were still bitter, and though it was mid-April it felt as if the snow would never melt and spring would never arrive. I could no longer remember, staring at the barren earth, why I had wanted to come to here in the first place. It did not feel like the same ‘vacation’ home of my past. I felt compelled to disabuse (v) or to correct the false impression of my child hood, that this was a beautiful place I could come to be free of the world and finally get to what I liked best, writing. It felt like a prison, and without the presence of

    I stared out over the snow laden ground and tried to remember what had instigated (v) or started this need of being a writer within me. Though my memory was clouded by the gray morning sky it was all I could do to not remember a time I didn’t want this. But what was it I wanted? To separate myself from all humanity? To be half way through my life with no money and nothing to show of it? An innate (adj) or present from birth, presence I had once told my friends, that there was no way in the world I could do something differently. But now, sitting here, starving, I would rather have been flipping burgers at the local burger shack. I would rather have been doing anything than ‘living my dream’. I was not particularly good at writing. I was average at best and my ideas were average. I knew it would be nearly impossible to get anything I wrote published. It would simply be sent back as usual with the publisher’s censure (n) or severe criticism smeared on every page. I hated that hierarchy (n) or formally ranked group of men that flouted (v) or rejected my work. I was convinced that they did not know how much time and suffering I had put into those pages or that they were simply not human and held no compassion for others.

    The breeze had now let up, and the luminous (adj) or issuing light, sun broke through the clouds. It reflected off the crystal snow and made it impossible even in my pessimistic mood to ignore the beauty around me. A sudden feeling of warmth rushed over me as I ran to bask in that beautiful sunrise. I felt very inconsequential (adj) or unimportant standing in the breathtaking beauty of God’s work. I realized then why I longed for this escape because I was selfish. I needed to feel obsolete. I needed to stop using I in every thought I had and get over myself enough that I could write something worth reading. I huge smile came over my face and burst out into uncontrollable happiness.

    I did not know how long I stood there taking in the sky, the trees and the very earth around me. It must have been hours before I was interrupted by the sound of a motor close by. I turned to see a UPS truck trudging along the path to my isolated home. It then dawned on me my original reason for being on that porch. I quickly walked back across the frozen ground in time for the driver to hand me a small package. I thanked him and proceeded into the warmth of my dilapidated structure. I ripped open the wrapping and pulled out a small note taped to the top of a bound manuscript that read:

    Mr. Webber-

    Thank you for this submission. Though it hits on some heresies (n) or opinions that contradict established principles, it is one of the best written works I have received in some time. It is very entertaining and after some changes from the editor I have sent it to, it will be ready to publish.

    Congratulations! ~

    Sincerely, Emily Johnson

  8. It was just another morning. Just another bowl of Froot Loops.

    Every morning for the past five years I have had Froot Loops for breakfast in a white bowl, on a white tablecloth, and with white milk. I know my daily routine is completely inconsequential (adj), but it is important to me. My daily bowl of Froot Loops grounds me and is as important to my day as waking up in the first place.

    This morning, I woke up at the regular time and stalked downstairs to our austere (adj) kitchen with its white wooden cabinets, white appliances, and white sinks. I opened a white cabinet that was indistinguishable from the others and was faced by an array of white ceramic dishes. Grabbing a bowl, I moved onto the next cabinet, identical to the first. There, on the second shelf, were five boxes of cereal, all Froot Loops. The parrot greets me every morning with his smiling caricature, but today for some reason, the parrot seemed to flout (v) me and mock me. Pausing for a second, I looked at the box again, it had resumed its regular appearance. Blinking the memory away, I poured the round discs of grain into my bowl, relishing the sound that each made as they hit the white ceramic. After putting the box away, I strode over to the white refrigerator and got out the white, skim milk. As I opened the fridge, it became luminous (adj) and the bare light of the single bulb at the top of the fridge came to life. I grabbed the carton of milk, and in a ritual that was almost as innate (adj) and inherent to me as the Froot Loops, I tried to see at what point the light went off, if it ever did, when I shut the fridge. I pressed my face gently against the cool white surface and peered into the crevice between the doors, trying to discern any sign of light, but nothing could be seen, not light nor dark. I walked back over to my Froot Loops and poured milk on top of them until the bowl was full to the brim. I reached into a drawer to my left, grabbed a spoon, and carried my breakfast to the white, linen-covered table cloth.

    I took my first bite of Froot Loops for the day and relished that fruity taste that is guaranteed by the curiously mocking parrot. Nothing tasted different than the bowl from the day before, or from the past five years. As I was eating my Froot Loops, I contemplated not eating them everyday, and the possibility of branching out to a more diverse cereal. Even as the thought passed through my mind, I dismissed it as heresy (n), it would be completely against everything I have ever done or everything I have ever known to abandon my fruity delight. I looked down and sighed as I realized my Froot Loops had almost disappeared. They were truly the only color in my austere kitchen and even in my entire house, I realized. Those circular loops of fruit were the only colors I had ever identified with. I usually wore khaki pants and white shirts, I never wore colorful clothes and I never, ever painted my house in any color but white. I had no false impressions of my life that needed to be disabused (v). I wasn’t in denial about my colorless life, yet I still enjoyed the most colorful and bright cereal imaginable, more so for its color than its taste. Some people may have a strong censure (n) in my life and be very critical of the colorless fashion in which I live, but it makes something like my Froot Loops even more enjoyable than anything else in my entire day. I must admit that I love to see that little splash of color against the white of my life everyday.

    By this time my Froot Loops were well and gone. I started to get up to go back upstairs in order to prepare myself for work and for the rest of my life when all of a sudden, my throat caught. I could almost feel a tightening in my chest and a swelling in my throat as each breath that I took suddenly became a battle. I realized through the haze that begins to settle over your mind as each breath becomes fainter and fainter that I needed to call an ambulance while I still had the breath to do so. I struggled over to the old white hanging phone and grabbed the cord. I struggled to get the phone into my hands even as I struggled to get another breath into my system. Every single time I tried to breathe, it felt like just one breath would be enough, that just one intake of air would fully satisfy my lungs, but as soon as I took a breath, I immediately had the feeling that I needed just one more breeze of oxygen to go on. I managed to dial 911 and gasp through the mouthpiece that I couldn’t breathe. From some faraway place I could hear the voice on the other end of the phone calling an ambulance, so I slipped down to the white-tiled floor of my kitchen. Standing had become too much of an effort, so I decided to lie down in the hopes it would improve my breathing, but as soon as I hit the floor, all I saw was black.

    Black, nothing. It invaded every corner of my soul and was the only thing that I could see from one end of the horizon to another. It seemed to encroach upon the small figure that was me by miles every second. A huge black cloud was coming at me, for me, and there was nothing I could do. The instant before I became totally consumed and totally lost, a bright light penetrated the dark and I opened my eyes with a gasp.

    I was in an ambulance and there were two people scurrying around me, one trying to blind me with a small light and the other frantically pumping a bag that seemed to be blowing oxygen into my system. The one with the light noticed the response in my eyes as I slipped out of unconsciousness and I heard an audible sigh of relief. I tried to speak, but my mouth was covered and I realized I still was not getting an adequate supply of oxygen, so I relaxed and slipped back into the black. However, this time, it was not the same menacing cloud that seemed to blot out all light and all hope. It was a much softer black that gently cushioned my sleep.

    I woke up again and realized I was in a hospital room. Apparently I had surpassed all of the others in the hierarchy (n) of people waiting in the emergency room and I had already been seen. As I slowly regained consciousness, I could sense that something was not right. I could not talk, I could not breathe. There was a tube in my throat and all I knew was that I needed to get it out. I began pulling at the contraption on my face, frantically trying to get this tube out of my throat. Gentle hands pushed mine away and tenderly removed the tube from my throat. I took my first real breath of air and found my lungs to be fully satisfied with that one breath and fully contented, so I took another breath. I noticed a small doctor near me, he was examining a clipboard, my chart I guessed, and then looked back up to study me. He asked what I had eaten so far today and I had only one response, “Froot Loops”.

    I was at the grocery store the next day, standing in the cereal aisle. The doctor had told me that it was the Froot Loops that had most likely instigated (v) the allergy attack and after a few tests it was proven: I was allergic to Froot Loops. For some reason I haven’t reacted to them for all these years, but the doctor told me that I can never eat them again, because the next reaction would be worse, and I would probably die. I thought back to my kitchen, now empty of Froot Loops, and looked into the trash can. Five sad parrots stared back up at me from the bin and I was sad too. I pulled myself out of the memory. There was no use in being sad because I was not going to ever be able to eat Froot Loops again, no matter what. I would miss that splash of color in my life, but it was that color that almost killed me, I realized. I scanned the boxes and found the one that was the most dull and the most white. I grabbed ten boxes of the stuff, not even looking at the brand name, and pushed my cart to the front of the store. I would miss the tinkling of the Froot Loops on my bowl and the color that they afforded my life, but now it was white forever.

  9. He was 8.

    At the time, Coke was his favorite drink. All he drank was Coke. If he got fast food, it was Coke. If he went to a restaurant, he got a Coke with whatever he got. It was inherent that Coke WAS the only drink for him. It was as though he had the innate(present from birth) characterisitic of being in tune with Coke. He gave much censure(severe criticism)(n) to any other drink, if it was the only substitute for a carbonated drink. He flouted(rejected)(v) Pepsi, for it was sometimes the only drink considered as Coke. He believed he was on a mission: to spread his austere(severly simple)(adj), inconsequential(unimportant)(adj) philosophy(which he believed to be the most important idea in the world) that Coke should be the soda for everyone and that every other soda WAS NOT needed. This changed however after a mistake.

    At a driveway, his parents ordered for him a Coke as usual. It had been a very long day and he was hungry. When he saw the the medium-sized cup filled with black liquid, he became happy. However, after he took his first sip, his smile went away. Instead, an intense curiosity filled the recently-swept mind. He knew right away it wasn’t Coke, nor its failed copycat Pepsi. It was a drink he never drank before but he knew exactly what it was. DR. PEPPER. At first, he didn’t know what to think. He at first thought that only superior hierarchy(formally ranked group)(n) of the Coke foundation/manufacturers were the only ones to make a good drink. The boy, having a heresy(opinion against inherent principles)(n) that Dr. Pepper and all other drinks were terrible except Coke, had changed. This cup, filled with a black liquid that had been the sole enemy/competitor against his own beloved dark drink, had suddenly become luminous(issuing light)(adj). The drink had been accepted in the boy’s mind.

    From that day forth, Dr. Pepper had instigated(to start something)(v) in the boy. He had succumbed to its various different tastes, which may have seemed terrible in the mind. The combination of those flavors however had produced an almighty drink, just as Coke had been. The Dr. Pepper had disabused(to correct a wrong principle)(v) the thought in the boy’s mind that Coke was the only drink. Dr. Pepper had forced the boy to drink other sodas as well, such as Fanta, Sprite, and root beer. He had come to appreciate those as well those as well. Although he never solely drank Coke again, he had to be careful for how much soda he drank because he had already gotten Kidney stones twice.

  10. It is early morning on a Saturday. It is the only day of the week that I can get up slowly and sit down to eat my breakfast. Normally, I get up at 6:45 and leave the house by 7:00 to go to work out at school. I don’t feel like eating before I work out because then I always get sick. So today is special. Even though, it is special, I still start out with an austere (adj. severely simple) breakfast, Fruit Loops. Eating breakfast satisfies my innate (adj. present from birth) need for food. I sit at the breakfast table where the windows are luminous (adj. issuing light). I rank my cereals in a hierarchy (n. a formally ranked group) with Fruit Loops at the top. Cinnamon Toast Crunch is next on the list.

    Some nutritionists would flout (v. to reject or mock) me for my sugar filled breakfast. I know that protein would be better for me but I like my Fruit Loops anyway. Right now since I am not overweight the calories in this cereal are inconsequential (adj. unimportant) to me. In fact I need the calories so that I can gain weight and get bigger for football. I know that these are not the calories that I need though. I should have a protein shake instead for my extra calories. Sometimes my dad gives me censure (n. severe criticism) for my poor food choices. He thinks that I should think like an athlete at all times. Let me disabuse (v. to correct a false impression) here. I don’t mean to make my dad sound like a jerk. He just keeps on me because he cares and I do appreciate him trying to keep me focused. There really is no heresy (n. an opinion that contradicts established principles) in what he believes. What he tells me is always the same thing that the coaches tell me. So I guess he knows what he is talking about.

    Well since it is still Saturday I am going to instigate (v. to get something started) something fun to do. I will probably get some guys together and go up to school and practice baseball. Coach Pav will most likely be there and maybe I can get some practice time in catching. I really like catching because there is always so much action. I love acting dumb behind the plate and then when the runner is making his way to second I can throw him out. It is fun to block a wild pitch that the runner thinks he can advance on. I really like playing baseball and wish I had started playing sooner.

  11. He was a cute dog.

    But his stupidity was innate (adj.; present from birth).

    Within two weeks of him entering my family, he had managed to swallow the key to my parent’s safe. How he got the key was a mystery, but that wasn’t the big issue. I thought my parents would understand, but their reaction disabused (v.; to correct a false impression) my assumption. They were furious; all their family jewelry was now inaccessible. My parents really scolded me hard, and their censure (n.; severe criticism) of my irresponsibility really scarred me. They said that the jewelry proved their position in the hierarchy (n.; a formally ranked group) of the county and that this event will cause them to lose their hard-earned respect.

    “That’s heresy (n.; an opinion that contradicts established principles)!” I told them. “Who cares about your ego?! You’re supposed to love the dog, not hate it, even if he does something stupid!”

    But nothing worked. They started to flout (v.; to show contempt for) the dog and forced me to let him go. A short time afterward, we drove to a huge field where we abandoned the dog. I still can’t get the image of him looking back at me with his round, sad eyes out of my mind. I loved the dog so much. This incident instigated (v.; to get something started) a feeling of hate and annoyance for my parents ever since.

    As I sat at the table for breakfast, my thoughts returned to the dog. I usually munched on the Froot Loops happily, but the reminiscence of my dog made the cereal unappealing.

    Even at school, I couldn’t stop thinking about him; I tried to persuade myself that the dog is inconsequential (adj.; unimportant) to my life right now. I even slapped myself to get him out of my mind, which only resulted in my fellow classmates staring at me with astonishment.

    At lunch, I stood behind the lunch line, which I thought was rather short today. I looked at the lunch menu. ‘Mystery Meat,’ it read. Well, no wonder, I thought to myself. I picked up a plate of Mystery Meat and sat down at a lunch table. The meat looked rather austere (adj.; severely simple and unornamented) and it seemed to glow under the luminous (adj.; issuing light) cafeteria lights. It had a very peculiar smell that was repulsive yet familiar. I cut a piece of it and tasted it. It wasn’t too bad. I cut another piece, but stopped. Something was stuck inside the Mystery Meat. I dug my fingers into the blubbery mass and pulled out a key.

    I was eating my dog.

  12. Second picture

    On this snow night, the men and their wolves chasing the assassin who hurts their leader. This icing mountain contains too different groups, the savage Alaka and the small knight kingdom Ablaze. They have different thinking and different religions; they both think each other are heresy (an opinion that contradicts established principles), because of that they always a little inconsequential (unimportant) thing that instigate (to get something started) a big fight. The only same thing between them was there sociality are both have hierarchy (a formally ranked group) which the people live in there are listen to the higher level person.

    The people in Alaka and Ablaze hated each other, the king and chief on each side all wants to take down each other and ruling this whole mountain, because this failed assassination makes them more hated each other. The assassin was John Hathaway, he lived in the Ablaze an austere (severely simple and unornamented) house, he doesn’t have any family, he grown up at the military, build up as a murderer, so he doesn’t have any emotions, his job is always killing people. But these days he met a young beautiful traveler who changed his life, she teaches him a lot of things in the life and disabuse (to correct a false impression) his wrong ideas. Between them is not the love, was friend and respect. She ask John stop killing and go with her travel the world, this choice was very difficult to him, because he can’t left his boss who was the king of Ablaze and also the guy that grown him up. Last he decide to go with her, but before that he wants to finish his last mission, to kill Alaka’s chief, that the war will stop, and his job will be done.

    But killing a chief was not that easy, that was the most difficult mission he never done before, in his head was thinking that after this all things and wars will be over, and that he was free, but the terrible thing happen, he went into chief’s bedroom, when he trying to stab in his heart, a guard suddenly came in, he quickly stab in, but it’s too late the chief is already wake up, John missed the target stab into chief’s shoulder, he know that things are going worse, he jump off the window, and start running.

    On his back the savage soldiers with their well training wolves start chasing John. The wolves have their innate (present from birth) sharp fang and strong legs, John knows that he will be kill if he slowed down, but how could a man running faster than a well train wolf? But he didn’t give up because he wants to go with her; with her was the happiest time ever, with her he doesn’t afraid of any censures (severe criticism) and challenges, doesn’t care of anybody that flout (to reject; mock; show contempt for) at him. Suddenly he saw a luminous (issuing light) stuff flow on the sky, behind the light he saw more light, he turn his head around, Alaka’s soldiers and their wolves are running away, he turn back forward, in front of him was the king and Ablaze’s soldiers, they take him back to their kingdom in the king’s office. John told the king everything about this mission and the traveler, he knows that his boss will be angry and will throw him into the jail, but this thinking was soon been deny, because the king told John that he is ok with that, the king gives him a freedom, but the condition was not to see him again and leave this country forever, the deal was successful. On the morning, the beautiful sunshine shine on his face, he turn back and say goodbye to his country, and walk on his new life with her.

  13. This past weekend was hectic. I had an annual family reunion at my grandfather’s sisters’ house in Tyler, Texas. This was an all-weekend event, jam-packed with activities for the whole family. The problem was, some of my austere (uncompromising; strict [adj]) teachers gave me a heap of homework. I had two Spanish projects, math homework, a history essay, a chemistry lab, a chemistry test that Tuesday, and English blogs. I was going crazy with all of the homework and no time. On the way there, I managed to get my chemistry lab done. I had my cousin check over it to make sure there wasn’t anything I was forgetting, considering I rushed through it in about fifteen minutes. I got what I asked for, her censure (to criticize in a hard manner [v]). No, there was nothing missing, yet the material I had was apparently not enough. I shoved it aside to finish later and started on my Spanish. I sent a quick text to my friend asking her how long the project was supposed to be. She replied immediately- “Dr. Martin said around 7 pages.” My stomach quenched- there was no way I would be able to finish seven pages, nor was there enough information on my Indian tribe to fill it up. Around six minutes later she texted again “Haha. I’ll disabuse (to free from falsehood [v]) you of your stress, it only has to be 2 pages.” I sighed of relief, but it was replaced by anger that she would trick me at a time like this. I was flouted (insulted [v]) by her inconsideration. I had two sentences left of my Spanish when we pulled up to the house.

    My whole gigantic family was already there. My cousins were playing volleyball and jet skiing (the house is next to a river). My grandmothers and aunts were helping make lunch, and the guys of the family were crowded around the T.V. watching the game. I greeted everyone and stood around for a few minutes then walked back outside. I was thirsty after the long car ride so I opened the cooler and all that was in there was Dr. Pepper. Generally, that was all my family drank. So far I hadn’t heard any plans were made for the moment, so I trudged along to a picnic table to once again start my homework. It was forbidden that the jet skis were misused or mistreated in anyway. We were also not aloud to ride all the way down to this area about 5 miles away to what we called the main center. The main center had a restaurant, sports shops, and different places. However, that was pretty much our favorite place to hang out, so it was a big temptation. About fifteen minutes into my homework, I heard aunt Debby yelling very loudly. All that I could make out was that my cousins rode down to the main center. My aunt Debby loaded onto our boat and stood there for a second. Realizing that she didn’t know how to drive it, she looked around, spotted me and started calling. I tried to hide, but it was too late. I walked over to the boat and aunt Deb asked me to drive her over there. I couldn’t exactly say no, but I was secretly happy because I loved the main center and I hadn’t been out there since last year, also I needed a break from homework. I started driving over there. Aunt Deb was too angry to talk so I just thought about what was going to happen to my poor cousins. Somehow, Aunt Deb reminded me of the hierarchy (a formally ranked group [noun]) of us younger people. My cousins’ heresy (an opinion that contradicts established principles [noun]) would get them in a lot of trouble. As we pulled into the dock, I noticed a lot of new additions to the main center. It looked a lot more modern, and there were a lot more people there than I ever remember have been here. But my new interest was inconsequential (unimportant [adj]) at this moment.

    My cousins spotted Aunt Deb right away. They knew what that had gotten themselves into and I was sure they had already had a long speech formed up for there excuse. They bravely walked up to Aunt Deb and faced their punishment. Surprisingly, Aunt Deb was cool about the situation and casually asked what they were doing up at the main center. My cousin Bradley stepped up and told her that this was a family reunion and they all just wanted to spend a little quality time with each other. Aunt Deb smiled and nodded and motioned towards the boat, all the while I stayed quietly on the boat. One of my other cousins Ashley had an innate (present from birth [adj]) talent for convincing people to do what she wanted. She stepped forward and asked Aunt Deb if they could stay longer. Before Aunt Debby could say anything else, Ashley went into a long speech about why they should be able to stay. It worked. Aunt Deb nodded and stepped back on the boat. Bradley asked if I wanted to stay out with them, and I, not wanting any trouble, said I had to take Aunt Debby back to the house. Aunt Deb said she could manage and pushed me onto the dock. My sly homework plan was ruined. “Thanks for backing me up!” Ashley said, half laughing, and nudged me. “Hey now, I did not want to instigate (to get something started [v]) anything with Deb” I said. We stayed at the main center until about 7:00. It was getting darker so we started to head back to the house. As we were driving away, I took another glance back at the main center and saw how beautiful it looked. It was luminous (issuing light [adj]), having white string lights hung everywhere. We made it back in a record time- 4 minutes at full throttle speed. All of the adults were inside talking their lives away. The rest of the weekend went by fast, I spent it with all of my cousins. I did no more homework until Sunday night at 10:00 pm. I managed to get done everything except for my history essay that I would manage to get done that morning. All was well, and I ended up having a great experience that I would never forget.

  14. I can’t remember the last time I was holding one of these. I have attempted to disabuse (v) (undeceive mentally) myself, but no matter how many times I pinch my arm, I’m still holding the original Dublin Dr. Pepper. Although, I feel as though I’ve committed heresy (n) (opinion contradicting established principles) seeing how I work for Coca-Cola. Maybe if I was on an assembly line I’d feel better, but as the President, I’m part of a hierarchy (n) (formally ranked group) of executives. I hope my actions won’t be revealed, because word of my betrayal would be highly censured (v) (severely criticized).

    I’ve tried to stop the attraction between the real cane sugar, and I continue to be instigated (v) (to provoke) by this sweet aroma. If anyone found out about this, I would surely be flouted (v) (showed contempt for and mocked). Now there’s a truck pulling up offering a luminous (adj) (light issuing) glow from the headlights. This is making the unopened bottle of Dr. Pepper visible. I even find a joy in the mere sight of the label. I stare through the beams and wait for the driver to appear.

    The owner of the store hops out and offers me yet another bottle to have for the road. I thanked him for putting me in this state of bliss. I feel inconsequential (adj) (unimportant) next to this bottle of austere (adj) (simple) perfection. I press the bottle to my lips and take a large gulp of the liquid… WHAT IS THIS!!! This vile substance I have paid for without thought. I can’t believe I ignored my innate (adj) (present since birth) instincts and tasted the sickening carbonation. Besides, who wants to taste twenty-three flavors simultaneously, it’s absolutely disgusting. I am never returning to Dublin, Texas ever again.

  15. I stared out at the beautiful winter sunset, the straight jacket seemed to flout (verb, to mock) me, keeping me from reaching out and running my fingers across the frosty window pane. The luminous (adj, issuing light) sun called out to me but I could not run to meet it. I don’t belong here, trapped in this austere (adj, severely simple and unornamented) prison, my arms strapped down like a lunatic.

    I was not crazy and I was determined to disabuse (verb, to correct a false impression) that assumption. I simply saw what others did not. I saw what was hidden behind the mask of every person and every thing. It was innate (adj, present from birth), this all Seeing Eye that I seemed to have. Originally people just thought that I was unable to pay attention, but that was defiantly not the case. I could pay attention fine, I just chose to focus on what I found was more interesting. The problem was no one else could see what I saw. When people asked what I was staring at I simply told them the truth, not thinking anything was wrong with what I saw.

    I was always under censure (noun- severe criticism). People thought I was crazy. My own parents, afraid of their own child had given me to a research center. I was poked, prodded, and asked so many things. They foolishly thought that I was the key to figuring out the afterlife. The idiots of the center’s hierarchy (noun-a formally ranked group) thought I saw dead people. Fools all of them. I grew up under the scrutiny of men in lab coats. I felt so trapped.

    After I had lived at that horrid place for around eighteen years I escaped.

    One of the ethereal beings that haunted my vision came to helped me. I recognized him from my youth, his name was Damon. He was tall and thin. His blond hair hung down to his mid back and his forest green eyes seemed to penetrate my soul when he looked at me. When I was little he would play with me when the ‘doctors’ left, and as I got older he taught me the facts of life. He said he wanted me to be able to function when we left this place. He was my everything.

    It was actually my eighteenth birthday when he came and told me it was time to leave. He said I was of age now and that we had to escape. He took my hand and brought me through the wall that caged me in. We got about as far as the front gates, when something within me activated and I screamed as pain radiated from my body. It felt as if I was burning from the inside out. I had been bugged. Damon looked murderous and terrified all at the same time. He pulled a flute out of his pocket and played. With each note my pain slowly ebbed away.

    “Thank you.” I rasped, shaking from the affects of the shock.
    “Your welcome.” He responded in his soft whispery voice.
    “How did you get me through the wall like that? And why didn’t you do it earlier?” I said as my rational side kicked in.
    “It is inconsequential (adj, unimportant) at the moment but if you must know, I could only use my powers on you when you came of age for that was when our bond was formed.”
    “What bond?” I asked. He sighed with an almost sad look on his face.
    “Before I can answer that question, we must get somewhere safe, but we can not do that due to the bug they placed inside you. I think I may be able to remove it though, so let us take refuge in the woods.”

    I followed him and felt the fallen pine needles brush my bare feet. We entered the woods and walked until we could no longer see the gaps between the trees. He told me to sit so he could work on removing whatever it was that plagued my system.

    He put his hand over my heart and closed his eyes. I felt his power brush against me as he searched. He looked up at me with questions in his eyes, asking if he could continue. Knowing he found the bug I nodded my head in signal that he could keep going. His hand suddenly stabbed through my chest. I gasped at the feeling, but just as soon as I felt it his hand was gone once more. He now held a small metal device that was the bug that plagued me. I sighed, glad to be rid of it.

    “Now that this infernal thing is gone, we must get to safer ground for there are things that must be done.”

    I nodded. He stood up and offered me his hand. I took it and we were on our way. He strode deeper and deeper into the forest, stopping when he entered a small clearing.

    The sun shone beneath the trees, casting a small hut into shadow as it descended from the sky. Damon walked into the hut motioning me to follow.

    “This is my home. Please make yourself comfortable while I make some tea.”

    I took a seat on a deep green couch situated in the small living room and waited for him to return. He soon returned with two small cups of tea and set them on the dark wood table in front of the couch.

    “I’m sure you wish to know more about the bond I mentioned and why I brought you here.” I only nodded in response.
    “Well, I don’t exactly know where to start but I guess a short lesson on spirits would be the best way to go. Our kind has controlled this world for centuries. We are the life force it runs on. I happen to be the spirit of this forest. I tend to it and it relies on my life force to survive.

    Now each spirit has a mate. The mate is always a human for if we mated with each other we would throw the world out of balance. The human mate can always see us and this has always caused problems for no other mortal can see what they see. They are often pronounced crazy or killed for their heretic (adj, something that contradicts established principles) beliefs. This leads the spirit to die also and therefore what they controlled will severely weaken until another can tend to it.

    A spirit immediately knows when their mate has come of age. Once they know this they will instigate (verb, to get something started) the bond by going to find their mate if they haven’t already. Once a spirit has found their mate and their mate has turned eighteen there is a ritual that they must go through over the period of several weeks. It begins with the first connection of the three connection bond. The fist connection is simply age driven. Once they are old enough, the spirit can use their powers to help their mate. The second bond is all about trust. They must be able to trust each other with everything they have. This bond allows them to communicate mentally and lets one know if the other is in danger. The last is the combination of souls. Once the mates have reached this stage, there is a short ritual where the souls are split and transferred to the other. Once this has been done the mating will be complete.”

    I just sat in shock as I digested what he just told me. It was quite obvious now. I was his mate. Now everything was up to me. Whether to accept or to reject. My heart seemed to ache at the thought of leaving him to die. Plus if I rejected him I would no doubt end up in that horrid center once more.

    He just sat and watched as I went through the options in my mind. After about ten minutes I finally came to a decision.

    “I am guessing you have told me this all because I am the mate you seek.” He nodded.
    “That you are.” I took a deep breath and gave him my response.
    “I will accept the bond.” At those words the most beautiful smile I had ever seen graced Damon’s face.

    The next two months were some of the best of my life. I spent them learning how to live in the woods and everything I could about Damon. The more I learned the more grateful I was that I had accepted the bond.

    The time came. It was time to instigate our third bond. I was so nervous, but I knew this was the right decision.

    Damon pulled out an ancient leather bound book and flipped until he found the correct page. We laced our fingers and he slowly began to read. As the words flowed from his mouth, light flowed from our bodies. The light intertwined around our hands and grew so bright that I had to look away. Then the light fled back to the owner with traces of light from the other. When the light returned Damon suddenly collapsed.

    I rushed to him and cradled him in my arms. Tears streamed down my face as his hands griped my shirt.

    “Is this supposed to happen?” I ask, sadness making my voice break.
    “No, no it isn’t.” He gasped. “It has only happened one other time. This happens only when the spirit can not handle the weight of their mate’s soul. The souls within the spirits body fight for dominance, ending in the spirits death.”
    “But you can’t just die!” I sobbed.
    “But I will. You must remember that you now hold a part of me in you. When I am gone you must protect my forest. You must celebrate the time we had, do not morn my passing. For I truly have not passed. As long as you live so shall I.” With those final words I watched as my Damon turned to dust and blew away in the winds.

    I screamed out in pain and sorrow. I just sat in that spot not aware of anything for three days. On the third day I realized that I was going against Damon’s wishes. I needed to keep on living and that is exactly what I shall do.

  16. Not an Ordinary Monday Morning

    Another Monday morning – wake up, get dressed, eat breakfast, and head off to a job that was rather mundane. In light of today’s staggering unemployment, it would be heresy (an opinion that contradicts established principles, n) to say that I didn’t want my job. Honestly though, I didn’t. Being a jingle writer is about as unspectacular as it comes. Life, as I saw it, was inconsequential (unimportant, adj); a series of static and repetitive activities. Somehow, though, this morning seemed a bit ominous. This foreboding sense pervaded my morning rituals. I tried my hardest to discount the feeling that today would be eerily strange.

    I reached for my breakfast bowl, poured my cereal and doused it with milk. Before I could lift my spoon, the phone rang. It was my boss making sure I incorporated the words “nutritious” and “high in fiber” into the jingle I’d written. If we could “nail” today’s presentation and win the advertising contract, he said, I was sure to move up the corporate hierarchy (grouped ranking, n). I could care less about a promotion…I just wanted to get through the day. As he rambled on, I noticed a sudden luminescence (emission of light, n) emanating from the kitchen table. As quickly as I spied the light, it was gone. Out of the corner of my eye, it appeared as though the contents of my cereal bowl were swishing about. Charlie, my clumsy Great Dane, must have bumped into the table. His metal collar must have caught the sunlight creeping through my window, which explained the flash of light.

    As I headed back to the breakfast table, Charlie started barking incessantly. Positioned in a defensive posture, he was staring directly at my bowl. His knack to signal danger was innate (inborn, adj). His barking quickly transformed to a series of stealthy growls. Not wanting to instigate (start, v) a series of angry admonishments from my neighbors, I leashed Charlie and drug him to my bedroom. My fellow apartment dwellers had already complained about how Charlie was too big and too loud to be residing in the apartment complex.

    Now that Charlie was appeased, alone in my bedroom with his favorite chew toy, all was well. Finally, I could start my breakfast. A barely audible sound resonated from my bowl. In a militaristic tone, I heard, “Blue team—ready? Orange team—ready? Purple team—ready? Green team—ready?” What the heck…a mutiny in my cereal bowl?

    I looked down to see my cereal banding together to form groups by color. “Hey you, put your spoon down and listen to me carefully. We have come to disabuse (free from a misconception, v) the perception that we are just a kids’ cereal. We chose you to be our spokesperson. Since you seem to have such an austere (simple, adj) existence, we assumed that our cause would give you some sort of purpose.” “Sorry, not interested,” I said. “Really don’t care about your dilemma. My only purpose is to finish my breakfast, get to work, make it through today’s presentation and return home.”

    “It would not be wise to flout (mock, v) us with your indifference. We are constantly censured (criticized, v) by those other supposedly adult cereals that claim to be healthy. They contain just as much sugar as us, however we taste better. You must stand up for us. We deserve to be heard!”

    “Quite honestly, I think you deserve to be eaten.” I gobbled down my cereal and grabbed my briefcase. I rinsed my bowl and placed it in the sink. My premonition was right—this morning was, to say the least, different.

  17. I had never known anyone as well as I had known him. Then he left. Not by choice, but by the force of nature, or whatever controls us here below. To think, it all started with a look of pondering circumstances that I still cannot quite figure out. A wonderful day of summer would be typical to start out a long lifetime of romantic love for each other. But, in truth, it was quite the opposite. The most austere (adj, severely simple and unornamented) way something like it could ever happen…A cold winter’s day in Michigan, a bad hair day, and hot chocolate could be considered Aphrodite’s instigated (adj, something started) and ironic mixture of lifelong bliss. I was eighteen at the time and was on my winter holiday break in my final year of high school. I was entering the small cafe by the post office to grab some hot chocolate before I went home to unpack from my visit to my dad’s house when I saw him. It wasn’t love at first sight. Actually he had just run into a waitress, which caused a plate of pancakes to spill on one of the customers when our eyes first met (or so I thought). He had a round face, and eyes that only a mother could love, and me after I met with the true reflection of David Worth.

    It seemed like every girl that age dreams of their handsome prince charming of a great hierarchy (n, a formally ranked group) of some kind. They have the exact tones of their hair, skin, and eyes imagined even before they meet. It is basically an innate (adj, present from birth) tendency for all girls to dream of that one guy who will change her life forever. Well, I had thought about him, but he seemed hazy in my mind, and now that I look back at it, I am so glad, because I would have missed out on the greatest friend I could ever have.

    As I was sitting down at the counter, he walked by.
    “Nice trip back there,” I said with a giggle. I hadn’t even realized I had spoken to him until he replied back to me.
    “Uh, thanks.” He had a defeated and ashamed look to his whole demeanor when I spoke. After a second of awkwardness, he started to walk off.
    “Wait! Sorry, I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” he paused. “Trust me, I trip all of the time too. I swear, I think I have tripped over microorganisms on the ground sometimes. I’m Justine.”
    “David.” I was facing him, yet he never seemed to look me in the eye. He seemed to lighten up a bit as if to disabuse (v, to correct a false impression) and said, “Do you want something to drink?” That took me off guard. I guess I responded yes, because the next moment he was sitting with me drinking Dr. Pepper while I had a cup of hot chocolate in front of me.
    “Yeah, I just got back from my dad’s house, actually. He lives in Cali. Hit it ‘big’ and decided to ditch us, well my mom and me. We used to be great together though. God, those were the good days.”
    “California,” David said. “I’ve never been there. Much different from here I suppose.”
    “Yes,” I chuckled. “Much different.”
    An hour and a half went by, and however much of that was inconsequential, and (adj) unimportant to me at the time, is now dearly treasured and envied by me. I remember when I first found out about David. It was when he pulled out his wallet.
    “Oh, you like origami or something?” I asked in a teasing tone.
    “No, actually. I fold different bills to tell which one is which.”
    “Wait, why?”
    “Oh, I forgot to tell you, my eyes? Well, I was born with deformed eyes, as you can tell, and they got worse, and now I am blind…” I just looked at him as I was putting all the pieces together. Running into the waitress, never looking me in the eye, the money.
    “Oh my God,” I had no idea how to react. What were you supposed to say after someone tells you that they are blind? ‘At least your not dead?’ ‘I see what you mean?’ ‘That’s why you look like the hunchback of Notre Dame?’
    “When did..?”
    “Nine years old. The last thing I saw was Dr. Pepper shining in the luminous (adj, issuing light) rays of the sun in the middle of the summer.”
    “God, I’m so sorry. Can I help you with anything? Make you dinner, clean your house, drive you-“
    “No! I’m perfectly fine. The last thing I need is pity. So, just relate to me as you would anyone with regular eyesight. That’s all.”
    I had thought about all of the flouting (n, rejection) that he had gotten, and thanked God that I had never been involved in that, because I would’ve felt so guilty.
    “Do you have double strength or something? Because I hear that people who have a lack in one sense are twice as strong in another sense.” After I asked that I felt completely stupid and thought that he probably would be offended by my question. That was the reason I had never liked talking to boys; I always seemed to make a complete ditz out of myself.
    He smiled. “Well, I can hear better than most, actually. Sometimes I can even hear people’s thoughts.” The biggest grin swiped his face while a shocked expression ran down mine. Luckily he is blind, I thought, as I tried to recollect my thoughts and myself. It was complete heresy (n, an opinion that contradicts established principles) that I was picking fun at a handicap stranger that had told me a tragic story of becoming blind, but somehow that made him seem so real and so easy to talk to; like he wouldn’t judge anything about you. I tried not to think of ever loving him, for fear he would actually hear me.

    Winter passed. I completed school, and every day I would meet David at the café where we first met. He was perfect! We even went to prom together, but then we left half way through because “he had seen who he had wanted to see,” or so he put it. We got married and moved into a small house in Michigan.

    I didn’t even feel bad for him, really. Sure, he missed the awesomeness of spring and the colors of fall, but he experienced life like no other person that I have met. I loved his eyes. The scars of his struggles and the life lessons and perseverance he gained attracted me so close to him.

    I learned that pretty complexions mean no wisdom or knowledge has ever bruised or scared a person, and why not have some character, hard times and scars to make you human?

    I felt guilty sometimes, because I had him, and I had sight. I wished so bad that I could give life to his eyes again, and he could see everything there is to see. People criticized and gave censure (n, severe criticism) to us saying that such a beautiful girl like me was wasted on a pitiful, blind guy like him. But I don’t believe it. They just want the blind love of David for themselves.

    One day, I was getting ready to go to work, as a waitress at the café, and I saw David sitting on the back porch. He loved listening to the birds sing in those beautiful days in summer. He would sit out there for hours. I went out to say goodbye. I kissed him on the head, and said goodbye, but he didn’t respond. I went around to look at him, and he sat still, in his chair. There it ended. On that beautiful day of summer, with birds chirping and the sky so blue, where two souls could have every reason to fall in love, he fell out of my arms, and out of my life…

  18. Vocab Story No. 2

    What a perfect morning! I woke up that morning to a bright sunshine to start our winter vacation. My dad was up already and had pulled open the curtains. My eyes struggled to adjust to the luminous (adj., issuing light) surroundings. I could see that the entire mountain was covered with brilliant, new snow. The huge picture window flooded light into the little room that served as our bedroom. The white sheets and blankets all reflected the light from the window. The cozy cabin was austere (adj., severely simple and unornamented) in décor but comfortable enough for our stay in the mountains. I wanted to crawl back into the blankets but I heard my mom cooking in the kitchen area. Momentarily, the smell of bacon and pancakes filled the room, and I nudged my little sister to wake up and eat. She smiled and nodded with her eyes still closed. She is sweet, but innately (adv., from birth, naturally) lazy, especially in the mornings.

    After a hearty breakfast, we all dressed in our snow gear and walked over to the plaza. My Mom and my sister were to go shopping, and my Dad and I were to go skiing. To stay inside the cabin on such a day like my sister suggested would be heresy (n., an opinion that contradicts established principles) in my opinion. I resisted the temptation to censure (v., severely criticize) her, as she is only a ten-year old girl who has little sense of adventure. Still, I asked her to look after mom and skipped off to rent ski equipment. She yelled out, “Don’t forget to meet us for dinner at 6!” We chuckled as we waved bye to her.

    My Dad and I skied until about lunch, and ate some lunch. Then we took a quick bus ride to another mountain side to ride snow mobile. The snow mobile ride was the best. We flouted (v., to reject) all caution and went on and on. Suddenly, I felt a sinking drop and my snow mobile landed hard and stopped. I heard my Dad’s snow mobile wheezing by, unaware of my crash landing into some hole. I looked up to see dark. I couldn’t see anything, so I took off my visor. Still, it was all dark. I had to feel my way around until my eyes adjusted to the dark. Eventually, I saw a hole up the ceiling where I had fallen into. It must have been ten, twenty feet up. There was no way for me to climb back up. I yelled, “Help! Dad!” but only echoes answered me back. The snow mobile’s motor was dead and silent. I sat for a while, and then paced nervously. I was seriously getting worried. Strangely enough, I thought about my sister. Did I ever tell her how cute she was? Just because she was the youngest in our family hierarchy (n., a formally ranked group), did I always treat her as a baby? All the inconsequential (adj., unimportant) arguments we had seem so long ago.

    I thought about our last argument. She instigated (v., started) the whole dispute, of course. She took my whistle and began blowing it running through the house. I had to catch her and take it away from her. I suddenly remembered that I stuck the whistle in my coat pocket to hide it from her. I felt my coat pocket and felt the whistle. I pulled it out and blew it as hard as I could. I kept blowing it for what seemed to be eternity. Faintly, I heard some motors sounds and voices. The sounds became closer, and I kept blowing the whistle. Soon, I heard my Dad’s voice. He said, “Son, hold on, we’ll get you out!” A rope was dropped and I was pulled up to my Dad’s welcome arms.

    Everyone congratulated me on the use of whistle. They said how smart I was to think of keeping a whistle and so on. I had to disabuse (v., to correct a false impression) such compliments, so I told them that it was my little sister’s idea. I looked at my watch. It was six. At that point, all I wanted to do was go back to the cozy cabin, eat dinner, and play video games for the rest of the vacation, with my little sister of course.

  19. “Turn it to the right a little bit.”
    Sampson took three quick snapshots of the bowl of fruit loops in front of him.
    “Good, now put the spoon to the left. Make it stick out a little more…perfect.”
    snap. snap. snap.
    “Alright guys, that’s a wrap. See everyone tomorrow bright and early. We finally got the Bryer’s ice cream gig and we promised a show stopping picture because what do we do people?”
    The team of food photogrophers chanted instinctively. “Make food more appealing to the customer.”
    “Thats right! bright and early people!”
    Sampson recieved tons of censure(N) from his coworkers about being so passionate about food photogrophy. They called him names, flouted(V) him, and mocked him all to his face. Something innate(adj) was in Sampson though that said he was destined for greatness. Others saw Sampson’s life as inconsequential(Adj), unimportant, but little did they know that ffod photogrophy was just a hobby, and Sampson was much more.
    “Ew. What’s the backround on this one Lester?”
    “Hannah Terry, 25, last seen leaving a club with her ex boyfriend Cherald Smith.”
    “Judging on the small blood spatter on the walls, I’s say she died of blunt force trauma to the head. She’s been dead a good while I presume judging on the kicked in effects of post mortem. What you need to get on Les is to instigate(V) a little conversation with our friend Charald and see what you can find.”
    “Hate to be a negative nelly, but uh, I have a feeling we’re going to have trouble finding Cherald. You see, we did some digging and found no record that a Cherald Smith ever existed. Turns out, Cherald Smith was an alias for Richard Perry, a former member of an underground group called the BTK Elite. Perry was the heiarchy(N) of the group, and together the group killed a total of 12 innocent women in name of the notorious recently incarserated BTK killer. He was put in prison and conivicted along with fourteen other members of the elite of these crimes. About seven months ago, he escaped from New Jersey State Pennatentury. I guess he wanted to disabuse(V) anyone who was convinced of his identit and decided to create the alias Cherald Smith. He also dyed his hair and haved his beard. Makes him ultimetly unrecognizable. He is a scary man. Anyone who has ever worked on any of his cases has mysteriously disappeared.”
    “Well that is unlikely with us considering he has probably fled the country by now. Now we have agents on the look for him over the globe.”
    “Tomorrow morning we will start a world wide search for him. We need to hurry, get him into our custody, and question him.”
    “Tomorrow morning isn’t good for me. My food photogrophy bussiness finally got a big bite. I can’t miss it.”
    “Look Sam, you are an agent first. We need to nab this guy ASAP.”
    “Fine, but we need to get Hannah into the coroner to make sure there were no other methods of death.”
    The early darkness was rolling in around the two agents. They knew they had to investigate the crime scene quickly. All the while the feeling of two eyes staring at them never left.
    “Judging on the clues we’ve found, I’d say it is not too difficult to piece together the story here. Infact, I’d say Iknow where he has headed off to.”
    “Where?” Lester asked astounded.
    “What is that luminous(Adj) light shining through that hole over there? Going through the wood shingles?”
    “Oh I don’t know.”
    “You stay here. I’m going to go check it out.”
    “The scene seems pretty austere(Adj) and simple. It’s is easy to determine where the body was placed upon death.”
    “Still, stay here, I’m gunna go check it out.”
    Sampson walked towards the light coming through the wood in the shed. He reached for the door. Suddenly he was overcome with brute force attacking his body. He tried to scream for help, but some plastic bag was placed over his head. He couldn’t scream, he couldn’t struggle. Sampson could feel the air being sucked out of his lungs. While his suffocating continued he heard a satanic voice whispiring in his ear.
    “You think you can put me back in prison? You think you could use heresy(N) against my treaching to the members of the elite? You ruined my plan, you ruined my life! But now, you are going to pay!”
    Sampson couldn’t even tell his attacker he didn’t bust his underground investigation. He helplessly was held there, his last breath lingering close to his lips.
    *Bang* he heard a gun shot go off but it didn’t hit him. Finally his aggressor fell to the ground taking him with him. All Sampson saw was black.
    Later, he woke up in a hospital bead. He saw Lester sitting in a chair next to him.
    “Hey man.”
    “Sampson! Your’e okay!”
    “What time is it?”
    “It is about 2:00 am. That was a nasty situation huh? We got our man. It was Perry.”
    “Oh we got him? Good good. I guess that crime is solved. Faster than I thought too.”
    “Yea. And as your reward I got clearance from your doc so that you can go to hat photo shoot tomorrow.”
    “Alright! Thanks man.”
    “You do good work Sam. Wer’e just glad your’e alright.”
    Later he headed over to his studio. A group of tired teamates met him at the doors of the studio.
    “Morning guys! You ready to shoot some pictures of icecream today? Becasue what is it that we do?”
    The team chanted instinctively “Make food more appealing to the customer.”
    “That’s right!”
    Sampson had never been happier.

  20. The picture hanging on the wall reminds me something. It looks like an austere t (adjective) picture with beautiful sunlight. It was a beautiful day, and I went out with my brother in the morning. Everything looks so special for us. I know it is inconsequential (adjective), but we have never seen snow in our life.

    My body instigate (verb) me to make a snow man. It was fun and we have a fight with snow ball. We all get so messy and we flout (verb) at each other. I feel so happy; this feeling is from my innate (adjective) heart. I live in a country with hierarchy (noun). We can’t even go outside to play with the kid. They think we are heresy (noun). They will censure (verb) me if I do something, no matter it is right or wrong. It is why we move over, and we disabuse (verb) that it is a right decision.

    It was a great place and I really enjoy living over here. People are all nice and they like to share. They don’t care about who are you before, but do you get what you need. My face always looks luminous (adjective), because I feel happy everyday. I learn a lot from before. It is the best place in the world, and it will never change in my mind. Just like the picture I first took over here.

  21. I dragged the box down the stairs. It was about full despite its size. I had greatly underestimated the amount I would have to put inside. I shuffled over to the hall closet and pulled out a pretty good sized moving box. Everything had to go, or at least be hidden from sight. I assembled the box in the kitchen and opened the pantry. My eyes swam as I pulled out the boxes of fruit loops. They were disgusting, I had no idea why he loved them so much. But he did, so they went into the box.

    I tried to keep going and put in David’s beloved ramen, but my entire body froze up as the tears pushed their way out of my bloodshot eyes. My knees buckled under me and I fell to the floor. I’m not sure why the fruit loops instigated (v) the sobbing, probably because it used to be an ongoing joke between the two of us before he left. I used to flout (v) him for eating them and he would give me a speech of censure (n) for hating them, and then we’d laugh together until we couldn’t anymore. In fact, he was eating them when he told me that he would be deployed. He tried really hard to disabuse (v) my bad impression of the army, but he failed miserably. I knew right then in my heart he wouldn’t make it back. I was never the same after that moment. The world that used to be so luminous (adj) seemed so fuzzy and dim. My life was over as soon as his was.

    David wrote to me about the hierarchy (n) but that was inconsequential (adj) to me. I just wanted him back home in my arms. When the letters stopped coming, I knew. I twisted the ring around my left ring finger. It was austere, (adj) but it was the best he could afford and I loved it all the same. I twisted it like that when I spoke at the funeral about my apparent fruit loop hearsay (n) and our other beautiful memories together. Usually, I had an ability that seemed to be innate (adj) to hide my emotions, but I barely made it through that speech. This was, by far, the hardest thing I’ve ever had to face. And two months later as I was filling up these boxes with everything that reminded me of my only love, it hadn’t gotten any better.

  22. “Where did you find that?” I gave my younger sister a suspicious look after glancing at the Dr. Pepper bottle in her hands.
    “Uhh, nowhere.” Jessie turned looked away to avoid eye contact. I left her alone, I knew she took the beverage from my fridge but we had walked outside of my office building so she couldn’t put it back. There was no need to instigate (verb) an unnecessary fight. I wasn’t going to (start) fighting with her over something so trivial. “Do you have your computer? We’re not going to drive back there if you left it. We are already behind schedule because you made us drive out our way so you could do your work. I should have made you leave it, this is sister-time. If you spend my entire spring break on that computer I’m going to hurt you. How are you going to do work while we’re in a car anyway?”
    “I edit books, Jessie. That’s not very hard to do as long as I have my computer. How far are we from San Diego?”
    “About three hours, we have some time.”
    “Cool, so how are we going to waste it?” We looked at each other, we hadn’t really thought through what we would be doing during the drive there.”
    “Umm, I guess we could talk about the natural hierarchy (noun) of my high school.” Jessie rolled her eyes thinking about it.
    “How can there be (levels of power) among seventeen-year olds? What do you have to control?”
    “Not really sure, but there are.” Jessie’s poor explanation wasn’t exactly disabusing (verb) my ideas of high school. My impression was that it was socially cruel and at times, silly. If she was trying to (correct my impression) it wasn’t happening.
    “I’m starving, can we get something to eat?” Jessie looked at me hopefully, not noticing that she was drifting the car to our left.
    “We just ate an hour- LOOK AT THE ROAD!” Our car slammed into a nearby truck and swerved across the right side of the highway. After the turning had stopped, a screaming lady ran into the front of our car sending us into a lamp post.
    I woke up with a throbbing pain in my right leg and my eyes stung because of the luminous (adj) room. The (bright) lights were too much for me to handle. There was a crowd around me but the conversations and beeping machinery were faint. I could barely see and I definitely couldn’t understand what was going on. The last thing I remembered was Jessie asking for food. Jessie. I immediately tried to get up but I was strapped down to some sort of bed. I was too weak to move regardless. I had to get to Jessie, she could be hurt.
    “My sister.” My attempt at yelling failed, the doctors could only hear a whisper.
    “Ma’am, you’ve been in a car wreck. Two of your ribs are broken and your right leg is shattered. We are going to have to put you under; you are losing too much blood.” The already blurred room dimmed into complete darkness as I was put into a deep sleep.
    When my eyes opened again I was sitting on a beach. My legs were crossed and I was in front of a massive sand castle. I heard a giggle to my left and turned to find Jessie spinning in circles and acting like a six-year old. I shot up and hugged her; she was stiff as a board. Jessie didn’t flout (verb) my embrace, she just seemed embarrassed. Just because she didn’t (reject) me didn’t mean she enjoyed it.
    “What are you doing?” She stared at me with a mixture of fright and confusion.
    “Nothing, I just love you that’s all.”
    “Ok…Creepy sister.” I laughed and looked back at her.
    “Is that my dress?” Jessie was wearing a short pale blue sundress.
    “I love you so much, Anne!” Jessie returned my hug, clearly avoiding the subject. “I see your sand castle is coming along.” She pointed to the hunk of sand I had been sitting next to earlier. The ‘castle’ was incredibly austere (adj). It was so (simple) it could barely be identified as a sand castle.
    “You are so funny.” I said with obvious sarcasm. I would (criticize) hers but it was perfect, of course. Everything Jessie did was perfect. You can’t censure (verb) perfection. At that moment a wave crushed my hunk of sand. “No!!”
    “Ha! Jessie was pointing and laughing at me with innate (adj) immaturity. We (had always) laughed in situations like this. If someone trips on their feet, publicly embarrasses themselves, or just falls we always laughed. It was all in good fun though, I knew she wasn’t being mean.
    “Shutup, it was just too beautiful for the universe to stand.” I pushed her for laughing at me and she rolled her eyes in disbelief.
    There was loud thump and I woke up again. Jessie had slipped on the floor next to my hospital bed. She grunted and slowly got up off of the floor, wiping the dust from her knees.
    “I’m so sorry Anne!” she whispered, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” She was fine. There was a scratch on her left arm that was patched up, but she was alive.
    “It’s so fine, don’t worry about it. I’m just happy that you’re ok. I was scared out of my mind. Don’t you ever scare me like that again.”
    “It’s my fault that you’re here and broken. If I had kept looking at the road instead of asking for foo-“
    “It’s fine, really. You’re not on trial for heresy (noun), you haven’t committed murder. No (contradicting religious doctrine) or death took place here. You shouldn’t feel so guilty, I can’t feel a thing, but that’s probably the medication. I don’t think we’ll make it to San Diego though.” She laughed at the inconsequential (adj) statement. Where we were (wasn’t important), only that we were both safe.

  23. Walking through the snow feels great.
    Yesterday was warmer, so it melted a little. But the night is cold and it has frozen over. So it makes a nice crunchy sound when you put your boots in it. It feels like we’re making craters in the snow. We’ve got asteroids for feet, or maybe we’re dinosaurs. Big, giant T-Rex, stomping and crushing everything in our path.
    We’re holding hands. It’s a little uncomfortable to do so, though. His hands wear gloves and mine mittens, big puffy things that make it hard to hold anything. But that’s inconsequential (adj: unimportant). All that matters is we’re close. We’re touching.
    The snow is luminous (adj: issuing light), so bright you wouldn’t believe. It feels like the moon is shining out of the snow, somehow, rather than reflecting. It’s coming from the center of the earth. The stars are our audience as we make our way through the simple forest. It isn’t a real forest, I think. It’s just a place in my mind, maybe I made it up. The trees are perfectly white, covered in a thin layer of powder. I brush it away and it sweeps away in the wind.
    “Where are we going, exactly?” he asks. Truthfully, I don’t know. But we had to get away from the people who hate us with love. The people who care for us, love us even, but deny what we are, what we feel. The hierarchy (noun: formally ranked group) of our family. We had to get away. Of course I took him with me. We’re in this together.
    We escape the censure (noun: severe criticism) by putting on our giant snow suits, like we’re five years old or something. Which…are we? I can’t tell. In my dreams age is not a constant by any means. It shifts a lot.
    “Let’s go this way,” I whisper.
    “What?”
    “Let’s go this way!” I shout into the night.
    “Where does it go?”
    “Who knows?”
    He crinkles his nose for a minute, then decides to follow. “Fine. You know what? Let’s go. I trust you.”
    I grin with the knowledge. The austere (adj: severly simple) trees watch us, mildly interested. I look at him with my eyes. He’s concentrating on stepping over branches and rocks. I think of talking to him. I think of bringing up things we’ve talked about before, or things we’ve never mentioned. I think about talking about our heretical (adj: contrary to established principles) ideas, or our musical penchants, or the way the cold winter air tastes. But then I decide not to. I’m just going to enjoy his presence.
    “Your face is red,” he says wonderingly. He’s stopped. He’s looking at my face.
    I laugh, and he smiles. “Well, DUH you fool! Of course it’s red! D’you know how cold it is? It’s probably like, 3 freaking degrees outside!”
    He grins. “Well…god. I’ve never been in weather like this, okay? My face feels like it’ll never move again.” He tries to scrunch his face up really tight. I laugh again.
    He instigates (verb: starts) a shoving fight that results in me lying on my back, looking up at the stars, laughing. He plops down in the snow next to me, laughing too. His teeth are really white.
    We’re lying next to each other, in the snow. He grabs my hand again. I look at him and without a sound slip my mitten off, and take his glove off too. The icy air is a shock to my hand but I clutch his for warmth. He raises his eyebrows and smiles, squeezing my hand and pushing warmth back in it. We gaze up at the stars.
    “I’ve always had this innate (adj:present from birth) love for stars,” I whisper.
    “Me too,” he whispers back. “I mean, we’ll never reach them. Or maybe we will someday. But man! They’re so far away, you know?”
    “And maybe they’re gone already. How creepy is that?” I ask wonderingly.
    He grunts in agreement.
    Silence.
    “I love you.”
    “I love you too.”
    Silence again.
    It feels like that movie, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. When Clementine and Joel are lying on the frozen lake, contemplating life. How cliche. But how beautiful. Cliche for a reason. Sometimes stuff like that is flouted (verb: rejected) by guys who feel the need to always be mighty and powerful, and above such stuff. I’m glad he isn’t like that.
    We watch the stars a little longer, just holding hands. Then I sit up, and with a groan he does the same. The sun is beginning to come up. I gaze at it with fear.
    “Why do we have to go?” he asks, irritated. “We don’t have anywhere we have to be.”
    I smile sadly. I have to disabuse (verb:correct a false impression) him. “No, my dear. The thing is, we don’t exist. This is all happening in my dream.”
    “We’re in a dream?” He seems interested. “What do you think this dream means?”
    I smile. “I don’t know. But the sun is coming up, and so it’s going to all be over in a few minutes.”
    “But…won’t we see each other again?”
    “Not like this. If you want to, though, we’ll see each other again. We both have to want it, though.” I can’t help it. The tears start coursing down my cheeks. He stares at me, and brushes the tears from my cheeks.
    “Shhh. Don’t cry. Why are you crying?”
    “Because it isn’t real. It’s absolutely too good to be true. You’re a robot, or a bit of cloud, or…some pixie dust or something. But not real. You simply can’t possibly be real.”
    He smiles. “You know, good things DO happen in the world. It’s just possible that this isn’t a dream. I don’t feel like I’m made of dust or cloud, and here. Feel my hand. Does it feel like a robot’s hand?”
    I shake my head no.
    “Maybe I AM real. And you’re real too. And this is all real. And maybe I don’t have to go anywhere. Because it’s all real.”
    Maybe dreams do come true.

  24. She sat in the house just starring at the phone, knowing that she was going to receive a call today. Though she was positive this call would occur, it was also clear that it would simply instigate (v; to get something started) another emotional breakdown. During the last breakdown she had broken two lamps and scared her dog into hiding under the bed. Though she was prepared for the pain the phone call might bring she also could not bear the thought of not having the conversation at all. Without these phone calls she was left feeling like an inconsequential (adj; unimportant) member of her own family. This feeling had set in about six months ago, following her drastic move from New York City into the mountains of New Mexico. The motive behind this decision became more difficult to remember every day. All she could recall was this need to be freed from the lack of nature throughout New York City. Her daily walks through central park could not give her the satisfaction she yearned for. The next thing she remembered was looking on the Internet and discovering the beauty of New Mexico. She had felt what seemed to be an innate (adj; present from birth) connection with the nature shown in the photos.

    As she continued to stare at the phone she wondered whom she would get to talk to. She truly hoped it would be her brother, Jimmy. He was always the one guy who could make her smile no matter the circumstance. A smile brightened her cheeks at the thought of her favorite brother. The expression quickly faded as she pondered the thought of her eldest brother, James, making the call. James had the ability to flout (v; to reject; mock; show contempt for) her through just the tone of his voice. He had made the call the previous month and had been the reason for the two broken lamps. She did not expect to hear the voice of either her parents when she answered a ringing phone, because they would not sink to that level. There was no hope her parents would ever give up their pride and call their disobedient daughter. They looked on her decision to move to New Mexico like a form of heresy (n; an opinion that contradicts established principles) and betrayal of the corporate life they had built for her in New York. Realizations like this caused her to believe that her family was a hierarchy (n; a formally ranked group). In this ranking system her parents were of the highest rank and she was by far the child that was so low she did not even receive a ranking. Though she could not recall the exact reasons for her leaving New York she did recall the forgiveness her parents would never give her because of it.

    The feeling of isolation seemed to poor in through austere (adj; severely simple; unornamented) windowpanes containing the same lack of decoration shared by the entire home. She was always so preoccupied with her phone calls decoration seemed like an activity that could not fit into the day. Though she received a great amount of censure (n; severe criticism) from her family during the conversations she didn’t want to loose touch with them. She loved her family and knew that they had the same love for her despite their criticisms. Suddenly she heard a noise that shook the room and she depressed the button of the cordless phone already in her hand. Her expectations for a familiar voice were shattered by a sharp dial tone. The room continued to shake as the original noise persisted. Finally she looked to the home’s entry door that was vibrating with each deafening pound of the fists on the other side. She got up cautiously and moved towards the luminous (adj; issuing light) lamp in the corner of the room to extinguish the little light brightening the room. She turned off the lamp and hoped that the pounding would end and understand her disinterest in visitors.

    The pounding finally stopped and a white envelope was slid under her door. She looked at it with hopeful assumptions, believing it to be a letter from her family. This thought turned into a need, that this to be an attempt by her parents to disabuse (v; to correct a false impression; undeceive mentally) their former criticism and make peace. Before her thought had been completed she was ripping a letter from its covering. She recognized that it was not from her family but from her phone company. It read:

    “To whom it may concern, we feel obligated to inform you that over $300 in unnecessary payments have been made from this address. We have placed the money back into the registered credit account within our company’s records. We also have looked over your phone records and discovered that you have not used any of your phone minutes in over a year. We apologize for the confusion and would like to be of help in any way possible to prevent this in the future. Thank you for your business. “

    She knew the company had the wrong customer because she had received a long distance call from her family every month for the past two years. The $300 was the payment that she owed, but if they wanted to give it back she assumed that was acceptable. She looked out her window to the trees that always brought a smile to her face and went back to her comfortable chair next to the phone. As she sat she glanced over towards the picture of herself and her best friend back in New York. At first the memory of the photo escaped her, although she recognized it looked like it was from a funeral. Both herself and her friend were wearing dark clothing and standing in front of four headstones. The names on the markers were not visible and her interest in the photo disappeared when she realized she was not holding the phone. She quickly grabbed the device and waited for yet another conversation with the family.

  25. Dan looked back behind him fearfully. He had just escaped from one of the secret prison’s that the Vatican kept within it’s walls. He had been accused of heresy (n. an opinion that contradicts established principles) against the church even though he hadn’t done anything wrong. He had simply been the organizer of a petition to get the church to give more money as help for the poor but had been abducted off the street. He had awoken in an austere (adj. severely simple and unornamented) cell.

    While in prison he was subjected to a form of psychological torture that the church termed “re-education”. Re-education was in reality a soundtrack that played 24-7 and attempted to disabuse (v. to correct a false impression; undeceive mentally) all the “heretics” of supposedly dangerous notions. It was hell. Dan, however had flouted (v. to reject; mock; show contempt for) all of the church’s attempts to make him give in, and taunted their attempts to censure (adj. severe criticism) his thoughts. In response the Church gave Dan a small dose of opium in his meal. Dan soon became addicted to the drug and became Inconsequential (v. unimportant).

    Only with the help of an old man named Bill did Dan summon enough strength to get through the addiction. Bill took him in and managed to get extra food for him, since Bill was fairly high up in the prison hierarchy (n. a formally ranked group). Once Dan stopped eating the drugged meals he got better and was able to instigate (v. to get something started) a riot and escape. Once he got outside the walls of the Vatican he was forced to wear a hood in order to hide his innate (adj. present from birth) birthmark. he managed to get to a village before he saw a wanted poster with his face on it. From that point on he simply avoided villages and large towns. One day, as he woke in a snowy forest, he saw a beautiful sight. The sun had just risen and gave off a luminous (v. issuing light) glow. Outlined in the sun’s rays were two branches crossed in the shape of an X.

  26. I tiredly opened my eyes and winced against the luminous (v.)(issuing light) glare of sunlight seeping through the tree branches. “Where am I? I thought to myself and realized that I was wearing the tattered remnants of what used to be my clothes. I sorrowfully sighed, “No…not again”. It had happened. I hoped that ever since I decided to banish myself from everyone else that the changing would have stopped, which apparently hadn’t. Then something was in my mouth that kind of tasted like copper, except nothing was in my mouth. I tried to spit out whatever it was, hoping that it wasn’t what I thought it to be. My spit stained the snow a deep red. Blood.

    To fully understand what I have just went through, I’ll have to explain my family history of which I have received much censure (n.)(severe criticism) for. I was born in an urban city, somewhere in New York. My mother came from a wealthy hierarchy (n.)(a formally ranked group) so you could say that we had a fair amount of money. I wasn’t sure of where my father came from and whenever I would ask him he would just tell me that his family history was inconsequential (adj.)(unimportant). Our family was austere (adj.)(severely simple and unornamented) and although they were rich, my mother and father did not spend money on unnecessary things. My mother even cut out coupons on the weekends just so that she could be able to save that little 10% off of milk, or laundry detergent, or even clothes. My mother was the CEO of the Wells Fargo banking company in New York and my father…well, I actually didn’t know what he did, but whatever it was brought in plenty of cash to the family.

    One day I drove back home after going to school and ate dinner with my parents. Later that evening, I was sitting on a couch in the living room, watching TV, my mom was talking on the phone with one of her business associates, and my father was sitting next to me on a chair, looking at the daily newspaper that he never had time to read in the morning. I was flipping through some channels when I saw a breaking news interruption. They were talking about three of four people who were murdered. Yet the strange thing was, the corpses that were found were just skeletons, almost as if whatever killed them had cleaned their bodies of every single piece of flesh. The police were interviewing witnesses who claim that they had seen whoever had committed the crime. Most of them had said that it was some sort of half-man, half-wolf creature. “Wow…it’s amazing how many suspicious beliefs these people can instigate (v.) (to get something started) these days” I laughed, “Don’t you think dad?”, but my father wasn’t laughing. When I turned towards him to see what was wrong his face had turned ghostly pale, unlike the warm red color that it had always shone. His body was slightly trembling and his eyes contained a sort of animalistic frenzy, deadlocked onto the television screen, absorbing every single thing that it was saying about the murder. “Are you okay father?” I worriedly asked. “Y-y-yes I’m just fine”, my father responded in a futile attempt to disabuse (v.)(to correct a false impression; undeceive mentally) my suspicions that something was strangely wrong with him. “Maybe you should go to be-“ “No!” my father quickly flouted (v.)(to reject; mock; show contempt for) my suggestion. “I HAVE to see if they found out who this killer is”, he said in almost desperation. “Are you scared that the murderer’s still out there?” I asked, almost laughing at my father’s apparent fear. “Don’t worry I’m sure that they’re eventually going to find whoever it is, but I wonder who would do such a terrible thing?” my father didn’t say anything, still staring at the screen. When the news reporters said that the police were still holding an investigation my father exhaled a tired sigh of relief. “I-I think I’m going to go to bed so g-g-good night” my father told me. My father’s job always forced him to wake up at around 2:00 AM, even though I had no clue what he did for a living. He would never tell me, only saying that it was best that I didn’t know. Ever since I was little I’ve had an innate (adj.)(present from birth) curiosity to find out anything and everything I didn’t know the answer to and so that night I decided that I would find out what my father’s job was. It was around 1:55 in the morning and I was getting a little sleepy when I heard the front door close. I sprang out of bed and quietly crept out of my open window to spy on my father. What I observed next disturbed me beyond words. I saw my dad walking with his usual slouch and he looked around to see if anybody was around. When he decided that no one was in sight he crouched down onto all fours and immediately started to writhe in agony. I sat behind a bush, horrified by what I was seeing. It seemed like his spine was being ripped from his body. His entire frame was shaking so violently that I thought he might be torn apart. Eventually my father stopped shaking and in his place the hulking form of a werewolf stood. I involuntarily screamed out of fright and the werewolf snapped his head towards my direction and was upon me in a heartbeat. My father started to utter a ferocious growl, but when he saw who I was he stopped, threw me back into my room, and sprinted off into the night.

    The following morning I got out of bed and didn’t say a word of what I had seen that night, but my father was nowhere to be seen. Then I finally asked the question. “Mom, do you know when father’s coming back home?” “Oh I don’t know honey, he’s probably off at work still. You know that his job forces him to be away for days at a time”. “Alright” I responded even though I considered it heresy (n)(an opinion that contradicts established principles) for a parent to be away from their family just for a mere job. Then that night, I awoke from my sleep, hearing a suspicious noise in my room, but when I looked around I didn’t see anything. Then I saw a shadow move from a corner of my room and was about to scream when a hairy, clawed hand clamped my mouth shut. “Don’t scream” it whispered and I realized that the thing was my father. I yanked his hand away from my mouth. “Get away from me you monster!” I said. “I told you that it was best that you didn’t know what I truly was…” my father said sadly. “Like hell you did!” my voice was getting louder and louder. “How many father? How many have you killed for all of that money that we have now? How many?” I was starting to yell. “Please” my father begged, “Do not tell your mother about this. I’m begging you. PLEASE!” and that was when I realized that tears were starting to fall from those glowing, savage slitted pupils of his. Then I started to feel remorse for my father and what he has become. “I-I promise…” I said. “Oh thank you!” my father said, “ I am so sorry that you have had to endure all this time because of me”. “It’s…okay father, just change back into a human and come back home” “That’s all I want”. “I-I can’t” my father stuttered. “What do you mean you CAN”T!” I started to yell again. “I was hoping that now that you’ve accepted me for what I am that you’d be able to accept what I have done” “What…what did you do father?” I reluctantly asked, fearing what I was going to hear. “I cannot change back into my human form until I’ve fed upon a certain number of people…and one of them has to be of my blood” “So what are you saying?” I asked. “I…h-h-had to kill your m-mother” my father gasped. I stood there, in the middle of my room, paralyzed from what had just happened. Then I went into a rage, throwing books from the shelves, grabbing my desk and slamming it against the door, all the while my father watched in silence. Then I accidentally cut my hand on a splinter that was sticking out of my desk. My father’s canine nose started to quiver and his once glowing yellowish eyes, turned into blood red, stirred into a frenzy from the scent of blood. He grabbed me by throat, foaming at the mouth, and started to squeeze my breath out of me. “So this is it. This is how I’m going to die. By my own father’s hand” I started to choke out tears. Then I was thrown against the wall and my father stooped down, and bit into my neck. I began to scream from the pain I was feeling and was trying to kick my father away from me. It felt like someone was stabbing my throat repeatedly with a knife, but soon the excruciating pain was replaced by an inherent feeling of drowsiness and I fainted. The next time I awoke I found myself in the woods, covered in snow stained crimson by the color of blood. I desperately shook the snow from my body, believing that it would cleanse me of what I have done. Then that was when I began to fell a throbbing pain in my neck. I raised a shaking hand up to fell what was causing the pain and felt two small holes.

  27. In 1885, Dr. Pepper became a thing of luminous (adj, issuing light) beauty to the world. It provided a caramel-y goodness to a world austere (adj, severely simple) in taste. They were limited in their drink selection until Dr. Pepper gave the world a new found thirst quenching freedom. At first, the titans of the beverage hierarchy (n, a formally ranked group) laughed at the new drink. They insulted the name choice and in their secret meetings, where they bragged about their money, they even mocked the Dr. Pepper slogan. However, they were unaware of just how much they would regret their censure of the drinkable underdog.

    Dr. Pepper was determined to prove their company knew their way around carbonation. So they created a massive campaign disabusing (v, to correct a false impression) the soda’s name. They instigated (v, to get something started) the obsession with their soda with a catchy theme song and a commercial portraying The Happy American enjoying a nice, cold Dr. Pepper. Soon it appeared as if Dr. Pepper was innately (adv, present from birth) the drink of America, as if George Washington enjoyed a few in the early days of the country. While Dr. Pepper was sailing on their success, they never expected the rival soda companies reaction.

    Coca-Cola had been the dominant seller amongst American teens for quite some time so when Dr. Pepper was ordered more in diners, they were completely befuddled. The company they once flouted for their usage of caramel in their soda, made them out as fools! They felt as this bitter news was heresy (n, an opinion that contradicts established principles) in the world of sugary drinks. They knew whatever they said about the company would be inconsequential (adj, unimportant) to the American public, so rather than insult the good name of Dr. Pepper, they simply waited for America to remember that Coca-Cola was, and will remain, the original American drink.

  28. Waking up at early times in the morning seemed easy for my family at this point of time. It was competition season and we would wake up early in the morning to go run and lift. As I came home from the morning run, my mom had told me that we were going to Colorado, to visit my brother the next day. This was something that was not inconsequential (adj. unimportant) to me, cause anytime I got to see my brother was always great. It always takes my mom a long time to pack, but for me packing is austere (adj. severely simple).

    The following morning my dad had took us to the airport. As we boarded the plane and got seated I noticied two brother giving censure (v. severe criticism) to one another. They quickly became quiet as we took off. We landed in Colorado Springs and my brother was waiting for us at the baggage claim, we were so happy to see him. My mom of course freaked out when she saw a cut above my brother eye, thinking he got in a fight. He quickly disabused ( v. correct a false impression) her and said it happened during practice. My brother and I always flout (v. mock) each other when one of us gets injuries, so I made fun of him for abit.

    We drove to my brother’s apartment and as we were doing so I noticied how much snow there had been and wished Texas would snow like that. As soon as we got to the apartment he started changing for practice and invited me to come watch. He talked to me about the olympic training center and the practices. He told me that one time the coaches told him to hit his opponents head very hard in a match which was heresy(adj contradicting established principles). I walked through the otc amazed, he showed me the wrestlers that were once the hierarchy (adj. formally ranked group). Soon after we went into the practice room and everyone wanted to instigate (v. get started) with practice. My brother always had a scar on his ear and the other wrestlers would always ask if he got his cauliflower ear surgically removed and he would always say it was innate (adj. present from birth). I laughed for awhile because I never heard of that question be asked from him.
    It last for about 2 hours, and when they were done my brother and I went outside. The sun was luminous (v. issuing light) through the cold weather and onto the trees. That day was a very memorable day for us both.

  29. Ice swirled under my lashes, biting my face and numbing my skull. All I felt was the icy sting; my feet, pale and bare, seemed to blend in against the glittering snow. The filthy rags that hung around my body seemed to taint the crystalline landscape that surrounded me. It was cold… so cold. I looked up, knowing I would die. Although the luminous (adj, issuing light) sun played rays against the earth, no warmth reached my body. I felt a bitter surge of feeble hatred rack my bones… the sun was inanimate, but I knew that it was somehow flouting (v, mocking) me.

    I was escaping from the asylum.

    I wasn’t crazy. I didn’t hear voices or see things or speak to the supernatural.

    I was simply a child destined for great things, one who had mastered skills and intellectual capacities beyond that of an adult. I was a child prodigy.

    The established hierarchy (n, formally ranked group) of this nation deemed us dangerous to the community. It was unnatural for a child to excel an adult. There were rumors that we were blessed… with hell’s powers, from the devil himself. We were a satanic group, intent on destroying society; they threw us into asylums, prisons, jails… and ultimately, we would die by the hands of justice. To defend us was heresy (n, an opinion that contradicts established principles). To find reason against our eradication was heresy.

    “Destroy those children who threaten the order.” It was the austere (adj, severely simple) motto that propelled our massacre. If there were people who defended against our eradication, they stayed quiet. The majority of the citizens, puppets to the government, censured (v, severely criticized) our existence and turned us in to die. Soon, the instigation (n, starting) of our massacre began. There was no one that we could turn to. No one we could trust… except ourselves.

    My parents discarded me to the asylum. They had found out about the innate (adj, present from birth) gift I had received, and then I had become nothing to them. I was a piece of garbage, unworthy of their attention – a piece of inconsequential (adj, unimportant) trash they had been raising for ten years. They didn’t listen to me — I was unable to disabuse (v, correct a false impression) their impression of their child being possessed by demonic power.

    But I no longer cared. I didn’t want to think about the past. I was escaping that hell. I was leaving it behind in that terrible asylum.

    My hands shook; they were blue with the cold. I could see the intricate patterns underneath my skin… I knew the cold was freezing the water in my veins. This didn’t bother me, for I knew I could die without the darkness hanging over me. The asylum would have driven me to the point of insanity and then I would be executed. If I had stayed sane, I would have met the same fate.

    I stumbled to the foot of a tree and fell into the snow, knees buried deep in the cold. They wouldn’t ever find me. They could look forever and would never find the prodigy who escaped. I would rot away here, a forgotten child, one who no one cared about. One who was free… at last, from the darkness.

  30. I sat there staring at my fruit loops. I was wondering if that my special phone was going to ring. It was given to me by the military special ops. They would call it if they needed reinforcements at the battle sight about a quarter mile away. I completely dreaded the day this phone would ring. I just kept hoping that the military had forgotten all about me. Hopefully they thought that I was inconsequential (unimportant-adj) person and didn’t matter.

    I used have fruit loops since the day I was born. It was as if it was innate (present at birth-adj) and never left my side. My shed that I lived in for over a month now, was beginning to fall apart. It was an austere (severely simple and unornamented-adj). I hated living in that piece of junk. There is always the good side of it; it was quiet luminous (issuing light-adj) during the day time. Well, that’s what you get for livning in a hierarchy (a formally ranked group- n). The people at the lowest end of the chain have to deal with this kind of cruelty. This might seem like a bit of heresy (an opinion that contradicts established principles-n) but the government should really treat us soldiers as equals.

    It is hell to be living in these kind of conditions and watching villagers living there showing censure (severe criticism-adj) at you. I wish back with people who actually want me there. Over here the villagers make fun of you and hate you with a passion. Back home I could actually instigate (to start-verb) my life instead of just waiting here for a stupid phone to ring. I absolutely flout (show contempt for-verb) the government for drafting me.

  31. The luminous (issuing light)(adj.) sun shone through the frosted boughs of the tall oak. A lone woman, bent by the bundle of twigs on her back, paused in the cold snow. Blowing against the crisp morning air, she admired the austere (severely simple and unornamented)(adj.) beauty of the scene. Turning at last, she trudged on over the powdery snow, through bushes and trees covered in winter’s white coat. Her day indescribably altered by that moment, something in that fleeting memory caught on an innate (present from birth)(adj.) human feeling. The wonder of that snowy vista suggested, demanded, a belief in a light far greater than any made by man’s hand.

    The woman was inconsequential (unimportant)(adj.), whether she believed or not mattered little. She knew better than to instigate (to get something started)(v.) others towards the same belief, lest she receive the censure (severe criticism)(v.) of her society’s hierarchy (a formal ranked group)(n.), who found it their duty to flout (to reject; mock; show contempt for) the antique beliefs of the people. Those intellectuals who truly ran the country, who found it imperative that they disabuse (to correct a false impression; undeceive mentally) the population of its ignorant superstition. All belief, all glory was due to mankind and Mother Nature alone. A higher being had no place in the state or the world.

    The man knew not what heresy (an opinion that contradicts established principles)(n.) the young woman trudging alone through the snow had committed, and he cared little. Perhaps she had been seen passing out tracts in the town square, or entering the still ‘open’ cathedral. She could have been a nun before the election. Or, more likely, she had done nothing at all, and had simply been marked as a likely suspect. The man looked up as he blew against the cold, checking his silenced weapon, he stepped out from behind the tree.

  32. “Daaaaaaad! Make me a bowl of fruit loops. I’m running late. I forgot to do those Inconsequential(unimportant, Adj) blogs last night. I gotta get to school early so I can do them.” My dad replied, “do it yourself lazy butt. I have to feed myself. Do you know how austere(simple,verb) it is to make a bowl of cereal son. For real, I’m trying to instigate(to start.verb) you to be independent. If you would have done those blogs last night you could have sat down and ate eggs this morning. You shouldn’t procrastinate.” I then replied, “Dad, you know what, are you flouting(mocking,verb) me? Your gonna tell me that I’m a procrastinator when you wait till Sunday night to pay your taxes. Good joke Dad.”

    I then left my house and drove to school. I headed straight for the library which seemed to gleam with some sort of luminous(issuing light,adj) glow. I thought to myself, either this is my calling or I am about to reach judgement day with my english teacher. I then proceeded sit down at one of the thousand computers the school has and began to write my blogs. Five minutes in I realized my innate(present from birth,adj) ability to write. I also realized my god given ability to space off. I spaced off at the group of girls who ‘actually’ think they are part of some social hierarchy(ranked group,noun). Oh my I better get my blogs done.

    After finishing the dumb blogs, I proceeded to first period english. The class began without hesitation and everything went fine for quite some time until the topic of blogs arose. The teacher’s censure(severe criticism,verb) for some of my classmates blogs was ridiculous. I then realized he was speaking about my entries. I had to stand up and fight. I violently yelled, “everything we discuss in this class is a heresy(contradicting beliefs,noun), I don’t care anymore. Give me an F. The teacher responded, ” let me disabuse(correct a false impression, verb) this problem. I’m not talking about anyone in this class. Did you think this was you I was talking about?” And then I woke up. “That was crazy!!!”

  33. I went to my cousins’ house. They all live up North, somewhere around Chicago. It was a week or two before Christmas and the ground was blanketed with mounds of snow. It was late in the evening and the sun was just beginning to set. As I walked outside it felt extremely cold. The weatherman said it was only about 10 degrees outside. We were going to head out to get something to eat and maybe go on a drive. My oldest cousin who is 19 borrowed my Uncle’s austere(adj)(severely simple and unadorned) car and the rest of us piled into it.

    We walked into the Denny’s where we were greeted by luminous(adj)(issuing light) neon lights. We had a quick meal and we were all finished by 9. We then walked out of the restaurant to go back to the car. On the way there was a man with a knife who told us give him all of our stuff. He was mocking and flouting(v)(showing contempt for, mocking) us. He was censuring(to severely criticize) us for being weaker than us, even though he had a knife. I was sure that he would be an inconsequential(adj)(unimportant) attacker if he didn’t have a knife. I felt pretty nervous. I really didn’t want him to stab us, but I definitely did not want to give him my stuff. I was hoping for a win-win solution, where we keep our stuff and not get stabbed and maybe even get to keep the guy’s knife. All of a sudden the man‘s neck snapped forward. It was amazing. His head then went back, had a little whip-lash, and a few teeth fell out. There was a very fast flurry of a baseball bat hitting the mugger. I know that it was not nice to feel happy about him getting attacked, but he instigated(v)(to get something started) the situation.

    When I saw the attacker of our mugger I realized that he was the manager of the Denny’s that we went and that my cousin’s happen to be loyal customers of. The manager was an old-school Chicagoan, who innately(adj)(instinctively, present from birth) was more likely to take matters into his own hands than to call the police. The manager was higher up in the food-chain or hierarchy(a formally ranked group) than the petty mugger who was already starting to cry effectively disabusing(correcting a false impression) his air of toughness. I was relieved. It was the best thing that ever happened to me. I didn’t get stabbed, didn’t have to hand over my stuff and saw a mugger get hit by a baseball bat. The manager stopped beating him after about an innings worth of hits, so as he put it: “So I won’t have to take him to the hospital”. To ask him to have been a little less brutal would have been heresy(n)(an opinion that contradicts established principles) not to mention against everybody’s wishes. We were pretty lucky that day.

  34. The sparkling snow blinded my weak eyes. The winter days were coming to and end, but springs beauty was yet to shine. I opened my front door and headed towards the car. I had censured (v, severely criticized) its experiences on the wide open roads hoping my 1986 mustang would last forever. This early winter morning I was headed to my fiancé’s house. In 20 minutes I would be arriving to a house larger then the white house.

    My fiancé’s Bill grew up in a house where he had whatever he asked for. He was not an austere (adj, simple) child, but instead a child of many things. He had gone to a private school, been driven around town in a limo, and was never flouted (v, to reject). I grew up in a house completely opposite of his, I was far from being apart of a hierarchy (n, a formally ranked group). I was always afraid to meet his parents because of where I came from. To my amazement they accepted me who for I was. I felt like I had disabused (v, to undeceive mentally) them for who I really was even though it was a heresy (n, an opinion that contradicts established principles).

    I never thought I would feel love, something that has been innate (adj, present since birth). I never saw love as being inconsequential (adj, unimportant) yet instead never found enough time for it. This was changed once Bill and I’s relationship was instigated (verb, to get something started). All odds were overcome and our love with stood all obstacles. Some even say our luminous (adj, glowing) eyes show it all.

  35. “Chase! Chase come back!” Rose yelled after her black lab. He was never good about staying with her when she walked through these woods and always ran ahead, but having a four-legged companion was better than nothing; especially on a snowy day like today. She decided not to worry. Chase never went far and this would give her time to collect her thoughts. She had a big day ahead of her. Tomorrow was the day that her book came out. The book that had begun with her hitting rock bottom, and had evolved into a testament of her strength.

    Now Rose may have been damaged but she was not naive. She knew that her book was going to be no doubt controversial and she needed to prepare herself for the imminent censure(noun-severe criticism). However, she also knew that it would all be worth it. For the first time, Rose could say everything that she had ever wanted to say and people would have to listen. People could say and think whatever they wanted. Some accused her of being a spoiled brat who used her family’s standing in the social hierarchy(noun-a formally ranked group) to nurse her own jealousy. Rose didn’t give those people the time of day. She knew that her family’s secrets needed to be brought to light if she was ever going to be free. They could accuse her of heresy(noun-an opinion that contradicts established principles) until the day they died, but they would just be wasting their time. Yes, she had to admit that a book containing detailed confession of secrets that had taken years of blackmail and millions of dollars to conceal may not have been the most tasteful way to obtain absolution. But if Rose had learned anything in these last couple of years, it was that she couldn’t depend on anyone else to act for her.

    Rose flashed back to those years in the mansion on 3rd street and felt the familiar thump in her chest. Although her life appeared charmed on the outside, it was completely falling apart as were so many similar households she later came to realize. Her father was a very austere(adj.-severely simple and unornamented) man who seemed to prefer interacting with his wife and child as little as possible and was constantly away on ‘business.’ Her mother knew that her husband had countless affairs, but of course she acted completely thrilled with her life, showing the innate(adj.-existing from birth) tendency of high society women to pretend like absolutely nothing was ever wrong. The woman should have won an Oscar. Oh but these memories were inconsequential(adj.-unimportant) compared the other elaborate schemes perpetrated by her family. In alot of ways, she was ashamed to be part of such a shallow and inconsiderate group of people. Still, when Rose looked in the mirror that’s not what she saw. She saw a girl who had broken away from that despite every attempt to flout and abandon her. Honestly, she was better off. Maybe one day they would see that she was not there to instigate(verb- to get something started), but to disabuse(verb-undeceive mentally) the public from thinking that this was a genuine group of people. If they would so easily flout(verb- reject;mock) one of their own, why would they treat an outsider any better? She smiled to herself. This book had been her salvation. It was the most luminous (adj.-issuing light) event that had come her way in a long time. This was the last nail in the coffin of her old life. This was her everything.

  36. I found myself sitting in the car again waiting for my father to get back from grocery shopping. The luminous (issuing light)adj, light shone through the cars tinted windows. It was as hot as usual and I was very tired. I had just gotten out of school and had’nt had anything to drink all day. Thats when I saw a dublin dr. pepper sitting up against the wall of the store. It seemed inconsequential (unimportant)adj, at the time but later it seemed to call to me.

    I was becoming impatient, my father wasnt back and I was still quite thirsty. There was no doubt I would show my father much flout(to reject)verb, when he got back but I would have to survive the next fifteen minutes first. I had always been told by my father not to get out of the car and wander off, I would do just that. I commited heresy(an opinion tthat contradicts established principles)adj, and the hierarchy(a formally ranked group)adj, aka my father would not be happy. This I came to realize to late.

    I was certainly in for some censure(harsh criticism)adj, but it was what I could accept for a nice cold dr. pepper. The bottle seemed to grow farther away from me each step I took going through the parking lot. I was at the store on the sidewalk when I spotted another contender for my prize. It was a boy about the age of five who had spotted my cool refreshment, he had instigated(started it up)verb, himself in the matter and would be the reciever of my competitive spirit. Just as our eyes locked I dashed for the bottle, I had an innate(present from birth)adj, ability always to gain the upper hand and I did just that. He was to slow and after
    some proliferation the bottle was mine. I would later disabuse(correct a false impression)verb, my father of the fact that I had remained in the car, and would have much austere(simple fun)adj, on my ride home.

  37. I’ve always loved cereal to start my day. And my favorite was of course the sweetest one you could buy in the store. I always begged my mom to buy it for me when we went shopping for groceries. And, like every mom, she flouted (v. to reject) my wish and said that it’s not good for me and that i should try fruit or other “healthy” stuff. But, just like every kid, my love for sweets was innate (adj. present from birth).

    But as I grew older, my mom’s censure (n. severe criticism) towards the colorful cereal seemed to have worked and I slowly decreased my froot loops consumption. I also began to understand the nutrition information on the back of the box and although it wasn’t austere (adj. severly simple), I ate more fruit and other healthy foods for breakfast.

    All this was instigated (v. to get something started) by my mom’s heresy (n. an opinion that contradicts established principles) towards unhealthy breakfast. But sometimes,(when the sun is luminous (v. issuing light)), and the box of fruit loops stands just rigth, in the beam of light, I find my mom’s rules as inconsequential (adj. unimportant) and I disregard the “food hierarchy” (n. a formally ranked group). I’ll eat a bowl of it, which disabuses (v. to correct a false impression) everything that my mom has ever told me about my favorit cereal.

  38. Dr. Pepper has been a drink that everyone can enjoy and is not only enjoyed by a (hierarchy, n.) but rather any person with a dollar or two. The extreme joy that this beverage delivers is often subject to (censure, n.) by Coke and Sunkist lovers that (flout, v.) it out of jealousy. No matter what you are loyal to, as Americans, this (austere, adj.) pleasure is (innate, adj.) to us and we are never allowed to forget it. With all this hype about Dr. Pepper the makers Of Coke and Sunkist were sure to strive to (instigate, v.) how (inconsequential, adj.) Dr. Pepper was to the economy in order to make their products seem so wonderful as if they made the faces of children (luminous, adj.) with joy.

    As the months progressed the influence of Coke and Sunkist strengthened their products began to flood the shelves of every store. People soon became mindless zombies bound to the beverages as if it were the sweet nectar of life. The people became so brainwashed that they were completely underneath the will of the two companies. It wasn’t long before the drinking of Dr. Pepper and its exotic cane sugar became (heresy, n.). The Dr. Pepper company in Dublin, Tx had little chance of (disabusing, v.) the propaganda against their products that were so plentiful, everywhere you looked Dr. Pepper was being poured out and replaced with Coke and Sunkist.

    Dr. Pepper was in such a horrendous state that drastic measures had to be taken. The company hired a group of ex-military soldiers to do the unthinkable. Late at night they infiltrated the rival factories with a shroud of darkness to cover their steps. Once inside, they sabotaged all the machinery and trashed the finished products. The next day all the explosives were detonated leaving many citizens caffeine deficient for a week until a new product appeared. Dr. Pepper released a new diet orange cola flavor that swept the nation.

  39. Shoveling snow had always been an innate (adj; present from birth) pleasure.

    She never really understood why Daddy made her do it, no one ever used the backyard anyway but the dogs, and it wasn’t like they cared where they peed. That wasn’t the point though, whether it was inconsequential (adj; unimportant) to the family survival or not– it was necessary to her survival.

    One night after one of Daddy’s particularly bad tirades, they all sat up late talking about why they got up in the morning. Julie got up to see Ben, Joey to eat, Keith and Chuck to plot their next prank, Charlie got up to help Mama, Caroline to play with her dolls, and she, well, she got up to shovel snow. Of course, the whole family stared at her like she said she was joining some heresy (n; an opinion that contradicts established principles) against the Catholic Church. But what did they know anyway?

    She would lay in bed at night and wait for the first luminous (adj; issuing light) rays of the sun to pierce through the trees- today it looked like a butterfly- and then she would slip out of the warm sheets to put on her austere (adj; severely simple) boots and face the morning.

    She pretended that as she shoveled the snow, she was casting aside her own problems and instigating (v; to get something started) a new path of order that would lead her away. Of course, she never would run away, but she liked to pretend as she worked her way further and further away from the house until she was swallowed by the naked trees– she liked to pretend she actually was leaving this time. She would go out to shovel one day and then never come back– it was that simple. She doubted anyone would notice… and the snow would fall again, concealing her footprints. But no, she disabused (v; to correct a false impression) herself, Mama would know; she was the only one in the family hierarchy (n; formally ranked group) who would care what happened to her. But soon Mama would be gone too and then what??

    She stopped shoveling, dropped down into the sunken path and stared at the sky. Her mind suddenly filled with images of Winnie the Pooh; she wasn’t sure why. “And the rain, rain, rain came down, down, down in rushing rising riv’lets.” Snow was like that too- it could be so delicate and beautiful but under the wrong conditions it could become a deadly weapon. Sometimes at night she could hear the trees snapping with the unbearable burden of the snow. But in the morning, the severed limbs would be softly covered in a sparkling white blanket.

    Sometimes while she shoveled, she tried to talk to God. She asked him to let Mama stay with her a little longer. But he never responded. Sometimes, she thought he flouted (v; to reject) her because the snow would start again, destroying her freshly-dug pathway.

    One time while she was shoveling, she lost control of the slippery handle and hit herself in the shoulder. The drops of blood stained the white snow scarlet red. She tried to cover up the blood so no one would see, but no matter how hard she tried, the pure snow was stained.

    Daddy had to take her to the hospital, but not until after he gave her a lot of censure (n; severe criticism) about her carelessness, or did she want to kill herself? She mostly ignored him, just thought of the irony that the first time she was allowed to go to the hospital, and Daddy hadn’t even touched her.

    Sometimes she wondered what was the point of shoveling the snow? The next day the snow would carelessly dump into her carefully-sculpted path– so who cared anyway? But then she thought of the sharp cold, the sound of the birds awakening, the feel of the shovel, and she would slide out of bed, take her shovel out of the nook where Daddy once threw a bottle, and would open the door. In that first moment when the morning light filled the room, she would let herself hope that it would all be okay again.

  40. Jamie walked down the street on a mission to prove to her father that people enjoy Dublin Dr. Pepper more than they enjoy the regular Dr. Pepper. Both Jamie and her father were extremely stubborn, however, so naturally their stubbornness showed more in this instance than any other. Jamie’s father, Andrew, found this argument inconsequential (adj, unimportant) telling Jamie that there were many other things that were much more important in this world than an argument over a drink. But this only instigated (v, to get something started) Jamie’s mind to come up with something to “wow” her father into believing her side of the story. At first she was content with an austere (adj, severly simple) explanation as to why Dublin was the best, but as time continued, she realized that in order to convince her father of what she believed, it would have to be much more complex.

    The sun was luminous (v, issuing light) on the warm, August day and Jamie was determined to win this discussion. Her father still flouted (v, to reject) the idea of Dublin Dr. Pepper and regular Dr. Pepper having different tastes. However she was more determined than ever to sway his heresy (n, opinion that contradicts established principles) against my argument that Dublin is better. Jamie continued trying to convince her father to believe her but couldn’t seem to disabuse (v, to correct a false impression) her father’s opinion of Dublin Dr. Pepper. She could not figure out what she could possibly do in order to make her father believe her and see things her way. Jamie was so confused as to why she was not able to persuade her father to see things her way because that trait was almost innate (adj, present from birth).

    Jamie was just about to give up when she asked herself why she’d never even asked her father if she had ever tried Dublin Dr. Pepper. She went straight to her father and asked if he had ever even tried Dublin Dr. Pepper. He laughed and told her that he sure had not but had heard from a hierarchy (n, formally ranked group) of people he used to work with and they had told him not to try it for it was way too sweet. Jamie did not know what to say or feel about this. She wasn’t sure if she should be mad at her father for not telling her this earlier, or if she should just laugh it off. To avoid censure (n, severe criticism) from her father, she just laughed it off.

    Andrew asked Jamie if she’d like to accompany him to the store to pick up some groceries. Jamie was extremely bored and had nothing better to do and decided that it could possibly be fun to go. She ran upstairs to change and then quickly hurried back down the stairs to go to the store with her dad. They hopped in the truck and started driving, but Jamie was not sure of where. She found herself dozing off and woke up about two hours later, still in the car. Jamie asked where they were and her father said, “About thirty minutes outside of Dublin.” He looked over and Jamie smiling as he continued to drive.

  41. It was a cold morning and I looked out my window to see my backyard covered in beautiful white snow. The sun was peeping through some trees and the scenery was so amazing, I couldnt wait to start my day. I got dressed and put on my heaviest coat and warmest boots. I then walked outside and closed my eyes to feel the luminous (issuing light) (adj.) warming my face. I was at peace and was ready to have an amazing day.

    I started walking around admiring all the austere (severely simple) (adj.) trees. The looked cold and boring and I had a lot of censure (severe criticism) (noun) I could have said about them. Instead I kept walking untill I ran into my neighbor, Ted. We said hello and were nice to each other but inside you could tell we both felt akward. We didnt like each other because he always felt i was inconsequential (unimportant) (adj.) and he was royalty. I hated he looked down to me and how he thought he was part of some grand hierarchy (a formally ranked group) (noun).

    We then started talking about our lives and i guess I said something that offeneded him so he decided to disabuse (correct a false impression) (noun) my comment. At that point we both started to make ugly comments towards each other and we instigated (to get something started) (verb) a fight. We both were yelling amd flouting (mocking) (verb) each other. This wasnt good and we both knew it so we decided we both werent every going to agree with each other and that we both had two different heresies. ( an opinion that contradicts established principles) (noun) We both knew better because we both had lived next door to each other since our innate. (present from birth) (noun) Then we acted “fake” nice to each other again and we went our seperate ways. I wasnt going to let him ruin my beautiful day!

  42. Struggling to fill my memory card on my camera, I raced around the park snapping photos praying to capture atleast one good one. I had to go to class in an hour and I had only taken 30 pictures, and still had 70 left. I had to be taking atleast one picture for every minute. I was practically in an hierarchy (a formally ranked group; n) when it came to my art class. I was a ranking student, and the teacher loved me on top of that. I could’t believe I was rushing my art, I have never done that. Whenever I try and rush photography my pictures either get messed up because I didn’t switch my camera to the right settings, or they end up being an amazing mistake.

    I often aimed for the inconsequential (unimportant; adj) objects in life to portray. I like getting people to see things in a different way. Portraying these objects though seem to always bring censure (severe critism; n) to me, which I appreciated, I don’t expect everybody to see the world as I do. It’s the austere (severely simple; adj) things in life that were the best to capture. “Speaking of austere objects…” I thought to myself, I noticed a bare tree. Bare trees are not only my favorite thing to draw, but are also my favorite subject to shoot. Often an heresy, (an opinion that contradicts established principles; n) I love proving my teacher wrong through my work, he always says busy pictures will bring attention. My pictures are simple, and keep people wondering, I like my philosophy more. The second I noticed the tree, I noticed the luminous (issuing light; adj) sun beaming through. I knew I had to get catch that at the right angle. I moved to the side just a bit, and changed the aperature to get just what I wanted in focus. Snapping a few shots, and switching things up a bit each time, led me to the perfect picture. I couldn’t really see it at the time, but when I got to class and uploaded my pictures, I knew that was going to be the picture.

    So ofcourse, to instigate (to get something started; v) things, my classmates started judging the picture. I’m not shocked by what they say, or bothered. I try not to mind them too much. It’s not that I don’t care for their opinions, I just try not to let them discourage me. My opinion about that often comes off as arrogance. I usually have to disabuse ( to correct a false impression; v) this to my classmates. Never is my work completley flouted (to reject; v) but I still try not to let people’s negative opinions effect me. I love what I do, and I see what I wish others could see in my work. Each picture brings up a conversation or a new idea, it was almost innate (present from birth; adj) since I started photography. I loved the simplicity of that tree with the light shining through just perfectly. To me I saw so much more, than what everybody else did. I just wish others could someday see what I see also.

  43. Student #43 -- Rough Draft only

    Note: If you re-do this — following all directions — by Mon at 8:30, I can give you credit. At this point, however, it is not complete/grade-able. I look forward to seeing your next version. — Mr. Long

    ***

    I woke up in a large, white, wintery world, with the LUMINOUS ( adjective; bright) light of the sun shining in my eyes. I then stood up and INSTIGATED ( verb; to get started) my morning routine. First, I roll up the sleeping bag i fell asleep in and put it in my bag. Then I took out my fishing rod and went to a nearby creek and started fishing. People often give me CENSURE ( noun; severe critisicm) about my lifestyle that appears to be a HERESY ( noun; opinion that contradicts established principles ) in contrast to their office buildings. I prefer the more simplistic and AUSTERE (adj; simple) life free of there HIERARCHIES ( noun; formally ranked group ) and to be honest, it is INCONSEQUENTIAL ( adj; unimportant ) what they think and how they FLOUT (verb; to show contempt for ) me. From the day I was born, as far back as I can remember, it was an INNATE ( adj; from birth ) feeling that I never fit in in the society. It’s not my job to DISABUSE ( verb; correct false impressions ) about myself but it is up to them for what they think.

  44. We must change it now! Those consumers have instigated (to get something started, v ) a need for a new label! The old one is so bland according to them! My people we must change it! “But this label is innate (present from birth adj) dear sir it has been around and used forever”! That doest matter to the people, we must change it now! I know you all think that this label is a inconsequential (unimportant adj) thing to the company but fellows it is of the utmost importance! This is what makes the people buy our product! The people have submitted their comments to us, the hierarchy (formally ranked group n) of the company and they expect us to follow through with their wishes! I know that changing the label might be considered heresy (opinion that contradicts est. beliefs n) to us who have been with the company for a long time, but all things must change in time!

    Now I want you all to submit your ideas for a new label as soon as possible! Don’t be afraid that any of us here will flout (to reject or mock v) your ideas, we wont as we are desperate for new ones! But I must warn yall to take care in your designs, we don’t want to make our product seem as if its something its not! We don’t want to have to have the burden of disabuse (to correct a false impression v) to deal with in the media at all! However yall should expect much censure (sever criticism n) from the council as we only want the very best for the company!

    Now the criteria for our label is only to catch the consumers eye! We want something that is austere (severely simple adj) so the public will be able to read it however! The slogan and font must be catchy! We want to people to remember us! We want them to have motivation to buy from us! If the ad must be luminous (issuing light adj) to catch the peoples attention, so be it! Good luck everyone I look forward to seeing your designs! The luck of the company is with you~!

    dang that was kinda a weird story…

  45. The Dr. Pepper company instigated (verb, started something) new ideas I believe. It was a ground-breaking drink that would change all soda drinks. Many future sodas will attempt to flout (verb, mock) or copy the taste of Dr Pepper. Unfortunately for these fake companies, no taste will match the original taste. Many people say that Dr. Pepper was a copy from the Coke A Cola brand. In my opinion, Dr. Pepper perfected their idea of a soda.

    Today, every restaurant has the option of Dr. Pepper. It has become nationally recognized for its amazing taste. You can almost get it anywhere you go, which means that it has to taste good? Or no business would have it, right? Dr. Pepper satisfies every human sense. Hearing the can or bottle open making that pop sound, and seeing the bubbles rise to the top, smelling the aroma, and tasting the refreshing soda.

    Dr. Pepper was innate (adj, present from birth) as soon as I appeared to this earth. The first time I saw Dr. Pepper, it was in a bottle was luminous (verb, issuing light) to my eye’s. Coke brand is a heresy (noun, an opinion that contradicts established principles) to the dr. pepper company. Its ideas were inconsequential (adj, unimportant) to the company. It was not going to stop the success of the company. Although those two companies have always been hierarchy (noun, a formally ranked group), they have also been severe rivals.

    Many critics said the soda companies were terrible for people because it contained a lot of sugar and calories. Well dr. pepper disabused (verb, to correct a false impression) these thoughts by making diet Dr. Pepper. Before they took action on this they received censure (noun, severe criticism). Now their ideas are austere (adj, severely simple) because all soda companies have created a diet version.

  46. I had never seen snow before. I had never seen the soft, fair flakes that fell during the wintertime. There was no winter where I lived. No definite four seasons. I lived in Miami, Florida. Snow had always been inconsequential (unimportant, adj.) to me and I never really liked the cold anyways. But this winter my family and I were headed north for a family vacation. My mother had always had this innate (present from birth, adj.) tendency to bring our family closer together. I, on the other hand, didn’t see the importance of spending “quality time” with my family. Of course this opinion of mine was a heresy (an opinion that contradicts established principles, n) to my mother. She thought that taking the whole family to Buffalo, New York for two weeks would be an excellent way to bond. So we packed our bags and left the first morning of my winter break.

    The turbulence of the plane woke me up from my sleep only 10 minutes before we landed. My sister was trying to get my attention, but I ignored her. She tugged on my sweater once more, but I began to flout (to reject, v) her and she pouted. I already knew this trip would be a disaster. The flight attendants announced for everyone to fasten their seat belts, as we were landing soon. The plane slightly jostled us as we made our entrance to New York. When we stepped off the plane, I felt an immediate chill. I reached into my small bag and got out my coat. We had to buy big coats just for this vacation since we had no use for them in Florida. My dad caught a cab and we loaded our luggage in the trunk. I gazed out the window and all I saw was white. The snow appeared to be a large white blanket that covered the city. The appearance of it all quickly disabused (to correct a false impression, v) my judgments of snow. I thought it looked beautiful. We drove a good while until we reached Buffalo. My sister and I had imagined we were staying in a grand hotel or something of that nature, but to our dismay, the cab pulled past a sign that read “The Buffalo Family Lodges.” We got out of the cab and set foot into our cramped cabin. My sister had plenty of censure (severe criticism, n) about our lodging, but that did not dampen my mother’s spirit. To me the cabin was austere (severely simple, adj.) and plain. My mother described it as “quaint.” I looked around and quickly noticed that my sister and I would be sharing a bed. The cabin was one large room with a sleeping area, two queen sized beds with a nightstand and dresser, and a small kitchenette. There was also another issue. Only one bathroom! I knew this would immediately instigate (to get something started, v) trouble between my sister and I. I was not looking forward to the next two weeks of this “vacation.”

    Beep Beep Beep Beep! I awoke to this noise at exactly 7:15 in the morning. I slammed the alarm clock and immediately smelled a pungent smell. I turned my head to the right and noticed my mother smiling wide at me with a skillet in her hand. She was already dressed and cooking breakfast. I turned to the undersized table and saw my father sipping coffee and reading the paper. He was wrapped in a large beige blanket. That is when I realized how freezing I was. I lay back down and pulled the covers away from my sister, who was hogging them, and bundled up into a ball. There was an official hierarchy (a formally ranked group, n), in my mind at least, that the oldest would automatically receive the blankets when cold. This didn’t go over to well with my sister though. An hour later, after all of the morning commotion, we left the cabin. We were going to take a winter hike through the woods of the lodge site. I was wrapped thick in a coat, gloves, scarf, hat, and boots, yet I still managed to be shivering. We walked around the bend and took a picture of this beautiful tree. The sunlight hit right through the middle of it creating this gorgeous gleam of light. The scene was luminous (issuing light, adj.) and brilliant. It was amazing I thought, simply amazing. I started to think this vacation would be more than just a family bonding experience, but a chance to truly see the beauty in what I have failed to appreciate.

  47. Image: #2

    Zombie Nation

    “I remember what I this morning, a nice bowl of cereal, a very austere (noun severely simple) thing to eat at the break of dawn,” was the last thing I read from a book from the Dark Ages. For a few minutes of my life, everything happening right now was inconsequential(adj, not important) to me as I try to figure out what a bowl of cereal would taste like. A lot of things from the Dark Ages bother the masses even to this day in 3040. The world is a desolate wasteland, that is run by hierarchies (noun formally ranked group) called the ” North, West, South, and East Oases. They instigate (verb to start or stir up) and manipulate everything that happens in the world. Anyone who flouts (verb, to reject) or goes against them, will be destroyed. Any heresy (noun, contradicting opinions) spouted out by an individual against the Oases governments would be captured by them. I hate them for the way they treat us.

    Ever since I was born, there was always that innate ( adj, present at birth) rule that applied to everyone in the barren cold wasteland: “Love it or hate it.” There was no middle ground for living in this desert, you either live for yourself or freeze to death like the civilization from the Dark Ages. Best way to survive was to work for the Oases. I personally did not like the government, they only provided the bare necessities for the people, while keeping everything else to themselves. I used to think that if I had expanded my censure (noun severe criticism) to others about the government that they would join my cause, they did grow up in this hellhole after all. I tried endlessly time after time, but with no avail. I have come to realize that the people do not rebel against the government because they are too afraid to act out as individuals. I thought I was that luminous ( adj, emission of light) glimmer of hope that everyone needed, but all it did was lead me to the cages of the West Oasis.

    Day after day, I sit here in the cages with nothing no food, water, source of warmth, just the cold and rough iron bars of this cage. How can they do this to me… Will no one save me? They’re trying to disabuse (verb, correct a false impression) my opinions against them with torture. It’s terrible… If anyone finds this, I want you to know to admit your mistake to the Oases and go on with your life, endure the hardship and don’t go through what I did, because in the end we’re all zombies that follow their will. If one of us decides to disobey, we get thrown in the trash can or re-educated. Word of advice, be apart of the zombie nation.

  48. The leader of the band Paramore, Hayley Williams ran offstage to her bowl of Fruity Fruit Loops. Way better then those Fruity O’s. Her heresy (adj.- an opinion that contradicts established principles), but whoever thought that their cereal was better than Fruit Loops was crazy. Besides, cereal was one of the only things she could censure (v- severe criticism) and get away with. She was just always busy, touring with her band, some things were just inconsequential (adj- unimportant ).

    As a kid she was always flouted (v. to reject, to mock) and now she had grown up to be a great rockstar. Hayley had always had the spirit of being a rockstar, since birth, innate (adj.). She was anything but austere (adj, severely simple). She was a fighter as a kid, loved to instigate (v- ) and to get something started with other kids . She found it entertaining tussling around with the guys, kicking their butts in anything.

    But now, her band and her fans were her focus, inspiration to keep going. When she made a mistake, her band was there to disabuse (v.to correct a false impression) and then help her. She loved that about her band. She was constantly away from her family, but she also considered her band her family. They went through everything together, good and bad times. Her favorite part about being in a band was he luminous (adj.well-lighted) lights on stage. It made her feel strong and brave, and her
    hierarchy (adj.- a formally ranked group) was always a few steps behind her.

  49. Dr. Pepper, the drink of drinks, the song of my life. Is there a better drink in the world? Could there be a better drink in the world? Dr. Pepper has practically been innate( adj. present since birth) to any kid my age. Drinking such a drink is inconsequential(adj. unimportant), but what matters is how I stumbled upon such a drink.

    At around the age of eight, my friend David and I would mix things together. We would form drinks from all kinds of ingredients. We would have a blast each and every day. I was the brains of the mixtures though and David would accept or flout(v. to reject) or give me censure(adj. severe criticism) about the idea. I should have taken most of the credit, but if I did not have David on my side, my drinks would be poorly made. One day, David instigated(v. to get started) that we should create something new that everyone would know and love. A drink that would spark a whole new thought about soda. We always hoped some kind of hierarchy(n. formally ranked group) of highly authoritative people would come along and see our inventions, but it was obviously silly. Before we began thinking about our new drink, I had a doctor’s appointment for a physical that I would need later on that year for athletics. The doctor’s name had been Dr. Pepper. He was a great guy in our community and everyone respected him. When I arrived, I greeted him and we walked in together. I sat on the chair inside his office when we walked in directly before we began the physical. He asked me, “How was your day?” I would reply, “It was fine, David and I are creating a new beverage that we are hoping will sell.” He responded, “That’s good, I’m sure you’ll think up something brilliant.” We went on with the physical and every time he asked me to inhale or exhale or lift my leg I hadn’t been paying attention. He had to get my attention constantly. When we were done, he’d give me his usual, “Have a great day,” and I would wave and walk out the door. But before I walked out the door, he walked up to me and said, “I’ve had this wonderful idea for a drink I think you might enjoy, just be sure that if it sells, please use my name as the title of the drink.” I glanced at the ingredients, thinking to myself that it was a silly idea. I said, “This sounds pretty good, I’ll give it a shot.” I thought it would be just another austere(adj. severely simple and unornamented) mixture that no one would enjoy. I decided to give it a shot anyway.

    When I went to see David, I would mock Dr. Pepper’s voice where David would quickly disabuse( v. to correct a false impression) the situation. It was this little joke that we’d always played out after we got back from the doctor’s office. Don’t ask. I showed David the ingredients list. Directly after he saw that this mixture had sugar and salt together, he instantly moved his head left to right, clearly judging this list as a, “NO!” David believed that anything mixed together with sugar and salt was a heresy( adj. an opinion that contradicts established principles. ). I finally said, “David, let’s give this a shot, I bet it’ll be good.” We pulled the ingredients from our shelves and for hours and hours we worked on it. After it was completed, we refrigerated it over night.

    The next morning I was eager to see what it would taste like. I opened the refrigerator and there it was, giving off luminous qualities like God had just created it. I put it in a glass and drank it. It was the best tasting beverage that I had ever tried in my entire life. I completely loved it.

  50. My friend and I were walking down the assembly line at the GM plant, to go on our union issued break when he instigated (started, verb) a discussion of the big GM executives stealing our paychecks from behind our backs. I told him that GM’s hierarchy (a system of people above people, noun) wasn’t that unorganized, but he flouted (to reject, verb) my counter reaction and kept on with his argument of how the system doesn’t work. We argued back and fourth till finally he saw that there was no actually proof of GM stealing our paychecks. He was now enraged and our break had ended -sometimes I wish they were shorter- so we went back to work which consisted of watching the robots paint trucks but then the factory line stopped, it’s never stopped in the middle of a shift before. Suddenly a loud voice came over the loud speaker, and said “Attention factory worker, hello my name is Dr. Pepper and I’m your host for this evening, there is a bomb in this factory and all of you inconsequential (unimportant, adjective) minions will be my hostages until I get what I want.”

    The crowd of factory workers are luminous (full of or shining light, adj) the knowledge that they are in danger. But in the middle of the debate I had noticed that my friend Danny had been unseen for the past 20 minutes and I suddenly came to the realization that the voice who called himself Dr. Pepper -named after the drink- had been Danny. Now I knew who it was but I didn’t know what to do so I decided to go find him but as soon as I could another announcement was about to begin. “Hullo again, I just wanted to say any foul moves and boom! But if you all cooperate then y’all will be set free my demands are simple, I want a hand built car with no machines helping you build one while I talk to your bosses.” It sounded like I needed to disabuse (to correct a false impression, verb) Danny’s thoughts about GM before he does something wrong. Danny’s innate (natural, adj.) personality for accusing others for his mistakes might hurt him here so I had to stop him.

    Danny’s thoughts on how he might fix the “problem” are a heresy (an opinion different from what is generally accepted, noun). My phone had rang at just the right moment, I had receive a text from Danny that had a picture attached, a Dr. Pepper and a green background. I knew where he was in the Green room so I headed over there to offer censure (sever criticism, noun) on his latest and worst actions ever. But when I got there the whole room was empty except for an austere (having a extremely plain look, adj) note with a Dr. Pepper. The note said “haha good luck finding me” I didn’t like this but I realized that there was only one spot where you can announce to the factory through a mic the front desk and there is where I found Danny print himself many paychecks.

  51. As it is always cold in the winter mornings i can always feel the warmth of his arms around mine. He is the one who keeps me safe and out of harm. He is the one who makes me happy and laugh. I always look out the window and wonder how I got so lucky to find a man like him. When i am with him it is like everything else in the world is inconsequential ( adj.) or unimportant. I could see the ray of sunshine hit the trees like a foot hits the ground in every step. The security he brings to me is the security the tree bring to the world around us. I am so young, but I know what i am thankful for and what i love out and want out of life. I have a very austere (adj.) and very simple personality. I have been a believer all my life that when a moment hits you hard and leaves a print on you your suppose to hold onto it as long as possible.

    Before i got married i was a party, fun, and crazy girl. I lived in the tri-delta house at college and loved life. I have always been a happy go lucky person. I instigated (v.) all the parties but was never the bad girl. I loved nature and took many classes on the sun, nature and mother nature. Every day i would wake up and look out the window to see the beautiful suns luminous (adj.) color through the trees. It was something that if one person got to witness it, it could change a life. I was always influenced by the smallest things in life. It was as if the desire to find the delicate things in life was innate (n.). I never really wanted to be a part of the hierarchy (adj.) of the world because they always over looked the small important details. I have learned so much from the view of nature and hope i can influence someone someday. I was always told heresy was the worse to be accused of, but to me it is being accused of not spending time in life to notice the actual beauty!

    Throughout my life i have been flouted (v.) and turned down for what i believe but as i sit in this beautiful forest i am now old and mostly gone, but yet still very here. I have disabused (v.) people who think that they dont have time to stop and realize the great things in life. I have told them that life is a roller coater because until you take the chance to ride and feel the thrill you never know what you’re missing. I have avoided censure (v.) my whole life and it has made me a better person. I know now that this very tree in front of me is the reason my life was so fulfilled with happiness. It was a tree that stood on the ground and never moved. It stood its ground and never let anything change who it was or what it meant. Thats how i went through life and that is the reason now i look back and have no regrets.

  52. As I sat staring unnecessarily close to my ice cold Dr. Pepper, I couldn’t help but smile at how so small and simple a thing as this could bring me such joy sitting on a bench on a hot summer day in Dublin, Texas next to a wall looking as if someone had emptied their stomach upon it after winning a pea soup eating contest. As I took a long drink of the cold soda, feeling condensation dripping down my hand, I reflected on the long journey it took to obtain such refreshment and the satisfaction one gained from setting a goal and achieving it.

    I awoke from my fitful slumber on that seemingly ordinary June morning on my families ranch in the hill country of Texas. Thought my alarm clock said 7 A.M. it was already hot enough to bake a souffle and I quickly began perspiring. I pulled on my wranglers and my boots and stepped outside. When i opened the door the heat hit me like a defensive lineman and I staggered into the blinding sunlight. I looked around for any sign of life but there was none. From the absence of our family’s truck I assumed my dad had already gone to town to run errands and had undoubtedly taken my mother and sisters with him. My brother’s whereabouts were not so certain. I looked around the yard for his bike but it was nowhere in sight, then as I rounded the corner of the house a large red object struck me sqarely in the face and exploded in a tidal wave of water. As I wiped my face off with my t-shirt I saw my brother doubled over laughing at the state of my appearance. “I sure gotcha, Hank, didn’t I?” “Yeah Will, you got me,” I replied, humoring him. As I was on my way to get a new shirt a small breeze stumbled into the yard and immediately I felt a rush of cool, refreshing air wash over me. The breeze was quickly gone but I stopped and thought for a minute. On a day like this, no activity would be any fun at all, fishing would be hot, riding bikes would be hot, everything would be hot. If only there were some way to renew the feeling I had just encountered…and then it hit me. Our ranch was situated about ten miles from the town of Dublin, and in town was the location of the Dr. Pepper brewing plant where they made and bottled their own soda pop. The really special thing about this place though was that when the Dr. Pepper company was instigated(v. to get something started/started) the soda was made with pure cane sugar and a different recipe than the majority of the product on the market. These days there were few places where one could get the pure can sugar version of the drink. I had heard tell of an entire Dr. Pepper factory in Waco where you could get it from the boys at school, but none of us had ever been all the wayy to Waco so who knew if that were true, and the other place was right here in Dublin. They bottled these Dr. Peppers in their trademark bottles which showed folks that these were special drinks they were getting. I looked up at the luminous(adj.-issuing light) orb in the sky and thought just how good a fresh, cold Dr. Pepper would taste today. Once the thought was in my head, I couldn’t get it out. I mean, “Ten miles isn’t that far, is it?” I thought to myself. I Had always had an innate(adj.-present from birth) tendency toward adventures and it took very little persuading myself to decide to make the trek to town. I gathered some money together from my savings in my room, slammed the screen door behind me, jumped off the porch and I was on my way. As I walked off my brother shouted, “Hank! Where ya goin?!” “On a quest for refreshment!” I yelled back and kept walking. “That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard!” He replied just as I turned down the red dirt road toward town. I payed no attention, I was used to censure(n.-severe criticism) of my ideas by my brother. My whole family in fact was prone to flout(to reject; mock; show contempt for) any plan I came up with. Who care though, obviously I was the smart one. To even say this in my house was heresay(n.-an opinion that contradicts established principles) for my parents and older siblings were worried these thought would upset the social hierarchy(adj.-a formally ranked group).

    My decision to walk ten miles to town seemed inconsequential(adj.-unimportant) at the time, but it soon proved to be a choice heavy with meaning. I walked all day long as the sun made it’s journey through the sky and continued pounding down upon me. I crossed four barbed-wire fences which tore my jeans, ran from an angry dog which was hard wearing boots, and almost stepped on a rattler in the some long grass. The trip was far from easy and I sweated through my shirt in no time at all. I reached town as the sun hit it’s highest point feeling a little dizzy and with a mouth the felt like saddle leather it was so dry. I walked down main street and turned onto the little side street with the antiques store on the left and the big green field at the end of it where I used to play with my dog when my daddy would stop to talk to the shop owner. There on the right, last store of the brick strip, was the Dr. Pepper brewery. I stared at the storefront for a moment, smiling at it’s decor and color compared to the austere(adj.-severely simple and unornamented) versions which took up space all over the street. I ran inside and up to the counter and rang the hand bell. I waited for the clerk to come to the front and simply let the airconditioning cover my dripping face and felt accmplised. I thrust forward my money I got from collecting bottle and ordered a Dr. Pepper and ice cream float as well as a six pack of bottle for the long walk home. I spent the rest of the afternoon sitting on the bench outside savoring my Dr. Pepper and smiling to myself. I sure hoped I had disabused(v.-to correct a false impression) my family’s thought’s that I could never follow through with any of my plans. As I finished my fourth bottle I began heading down the street that would lead me to home and dinner. As I began walking I paused to look back at the statue of the founder of the brewery in front of the store, smiling and casting shadows down onto the sidewalk. “Thank you sir,” I said, raising my drink to the bronze figure. I looked toward the path which led to my place and headed that way. As I contemplated the long treck home a thought occured to me, maybe i could barter a ride by giving a kind driver one of my last two Dr. Pepper’s. With that thought in mind I smiled and stuck out my thumb. I got home late for dinner and momma was mad as can be but I didn’t care. A Dr. Pepper never tasted so good.

  53. Clink, goes the sound of the bottles in the factory. The time is 1974, and the summer heat is sweltering, and the luminous (adj) sun hangs overhead of the Western Bottling Company. The issuing light blinds people as they walk in the big four story building to start work. The hierarchy (n) shuffles behind the president of the company, Mr. R. J. Bigansworth, like a bunch of ants following their queen. Now Mr. Bigansworth (Mr. B for short) does not really like the formally ranked group that is always behind him, but he deals with it because corporate makes him. Mr. B is a generous man who has made it his life goal to disabuse (v) any stereotypes about the upper management, and how they are unfair, corrupt, and wealthy beyond belief. Which, in corporate’s case, is true.

    Corporate doesn’t show much enthusiasm for Mr. B. In fact they flat out hate him, but they can never fire him. Mr. B has the highest ratings for any bottling company in the U.S. They are always flouting (v) him with cruel censure (v), trying to corrupt him to the corporate side. But their making criticism has no effect on the great Mr. B. Of course they consider Mr. B’s thoughts and ideas heresy (n) compared to their standards of management. However, Mr. B’s opinions are austere (adj), and are also what have put this company’s ratings through the roof. Just the simple things like a greeting from him as we walk through the door, make s want to work for the guy. If only the other company’s were as kind.

    His innate (adj) ability to instigate (v) something from nothing is quite admirable. That’s how he got his title here. With his ability, which was obviously present sense he first came into this world, to start something from nothing, got him noticed by corporate, and he rose up the ladder of success so fast, that none of us knew he was being promoted until he was manager of our company. Even though they were really inconsequential (adj) things, like a picnic, or just getting everyone at work to go out for drinks at Winslow’s Bar. These unimportant things started to build up his reputation at work, until he was our boss. But I guess that that’s life, start small, and then grow big. Now if you’ll excuse me, I think that I’ll have a Dublin Dr Pepper.

  54. I walked by myself in the cold, dark night. I wondered if they were still looking for me. It was strictly forbidden to go outside the confines of The Community. I knew under no circumstances could they catch me, but I was pretty certain they had given up by not. My life was pretty inconsequential (adj. unimportant) to them, and as long as my intents of heresy (n. an opinion that contradicts established principles) and I were gone they figured I wasn’t too much of a threat.

    My innate (adj. present from birth) tendencies I had to instigate (v. to get something started) heretical movements back in The Community always got me into more trouble than it was worth. I hated it there, and I was tired of being alone in my ability to not be a zombie. I tried to change people, to disabuse (v. to correct a false impression; undeceive mentally) them from the idea that The Community was in fact an ideal place. My constantly dealt censure (n. severe criticism) of the wretched place did nothing to free their trapped minds. People even flouted (v. to reject; mock; show contempt for) me and said I was insane.

    I finally came to rest in the middle of an austere (adj. severely simple and unornamented) looking opening in the forest. I sat on a rock that froze my rear through my robe, but rested my legs for a few moments. I sat, thinking of what to do next, but my thoughts formed no sort of hierarchy (n. a formally ranked group) to help me make a decision. The cold seemed to be sucking my life, and I knew I needed to find shelter soon. At last I looked up and saw a luminous (adj. issuing light) glint of the sun rising for one last time.

  55. In the pre-dawn darkness your alarm goes off and startles you awake. Your hand slides out of the covers to quickly hit the snooze button and retreats back into the sheltering warmth of the blankets. Eventually, however, you stumble out of those warm sheets and into a hasty shower. You dry your hair and head toward a speedy breakfast of fruit Loops. In your hast you cannot fully appreciate the goodness of the cereal that your are wolfing down.

    Fruit Loops are far from austere (severely simple and unornamented, adj). They are multicolored magic with a sugar coating that creates an almost luminous (issuing light, adj) appearance. When the first batch of Fruit Loops were made, General Mills instigated (to get something started, v) a steady rise through the cereal hierarchy (a formally ranked group, adj) to the elevated place they hold today. Some have censured (severe criticism, n) Fruit Loops, painting them as sick sugary abominations. To disabuse (to correct a false impression; undeceive mentally, v) these psycho health freaks of their inaccurate extreamist views, we simply go to the cereal box. Although it may seem a heresy (an opinion that contradicts established principles, n) to say that they are good for you, the box is clearly states; fortified with 11 essential vitamins and minerals and is low in fat.

    Though Fruit Loops may have come from inconsequential (unimportant, adj) roots decades ago, but regardless of their beginning, they have an innate (present from birth, adj) ability to create happiness so overwhelming that the poorest mouse consuming them feels richer than Bill Gates. They induce a state of euphoria that can carry you through the hardest of days. Yet they are humble and do not flout (to reject; mock; show contempt for, v) other cereals for simply being better. In fact at large breakfast gatherings they often happily choose to join other cereal friends on the table to create a party of flavors for your taste buds.

  56. As I popped yet another bottle of the cold refreshing coke, the bottle cap fell with a soft clink to the ground to make company with the others. Some were mine and some weren’t, but they didn’t care, and commingled like a group of scattered bottle caps should. There was no hierarchy(n, a formally ranked group) among them, unlike their owners. Each hit and bounced with nearly the same drive as any other. The dropping of bottle caps on the driveway may seem inconsequential(adj, unimportant) to those other than me, but I think they improve the quality of my life with their clinks.

    Nothing else in the world is so dependable. The continuity of gravity and the clinking of bottle caps seems to flout(v, show contempt for) the less reliable aspects of the day. The sprinklers sometimes didn’t work, the lawn wasn’t mowed in a perfect way every time, and the headlights on the car sometimes weren’t as luminous(adj, issuing light) as they could have been, but the bottle caps always clinked on the ground. Everything in life is changeable, and anything that was innately(adv, from birth) perceived has changed by the time you think about it next.

    Getting up much too early in the morning, going to the dark and austere(adj, severely simple and unornamented) workplace, and coming home exhausted was all a part of a day’s work. It seemed almost a heresy(n, an opinion that contradicts established principles) that life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness couldn’t all happen in tandem.The only way that I drag myself through the censure(n, severe criticism) of my boss and wife is by the pure knowledge that when i come out into my driveway and sit on my lawn chair, I can pop open a cold, refreshing beverage and hear the clink of the bottle cap bouncing its way down the concrete.

    I can’t have you believing that my life is all bad and depressing, so to disabuse(v, to correct a false impression) your doubts. I have a wonderful life, blessed with children and the little joys that come with them. I don’t mind going to work, because I know I am doing something for them. I am instigating(v, starting) something inside of my children; a drive to work for those that they love and enjoy the little wonders of life. It could be a giggle, wining monopoly, or just the clinking sound of a bottle cap on the pavement.

  57. In the morning when the sun is just rising above the trees, we are out doing what we do best. We enjoy what we do and the censure (n) that others give us is inconsequential (adj). They say that we shouldn’t do what we do best for sport or even for food but to us it’s like a job. They instigate (v) things that irritate us because they just don’t understand. We try to tell them that we have a way of life like they do, but they always flout (v) our words.

    We have heresy (n) about what they say as well. They try to limit what we can do in the woods because there opinions state that we are inhuman, but it is innate (adj) to us. It feels great to us when we wake up in the morning and travel to the forest. It feels great when it’s late at night and we need luminous (adj) flashlights. It’s our way of life and soon we will have to disabuse (v) the confusion.

    We provide food for them although they criticize us. Our life, although austere (adj), provides joy to us. We were never a hierarcy (n) is this society, but most people showed us respect. Respect or not respect though we still wake up to do our job. This is the life of a hunter.

  58. Wow that was a hard football practice i wonder why the coaches decide for us to have 4 practices a day. I guess it was because we were currently on a 2 game losing streak. I looked around the locker room and saw that all the inconsequential(adj. unimportant) freshmen looked like they were about to pass out. Chuckling to myself I decided to instigate(V. get something started) their initiation. I gathered the hierarchy(a formally ranked group) of skilled players and spoke to them about the plan I had in mind for the freshmen.

    The next day

    I went up to a freshmen and talked to him about yesterdays practice as all freshmen were he was thinking ablut quiting the team due to the hard practices. Trying to refrain from laughing i told him that i had a secret method of playing through practices. I saw his eyes light up as though he saw a luminous (issuing light) from behind me. Almost like in one of those corny movies. From my bag i produced a bottle of Dr. Pepper knowing that drinking this or allowing any one to before a practice was a heretic act (Heresy-an opinion that contradicts established principles) against what our coaches had taught us.

    Later that day

    I laughed as my head coach severly censured(severe criticisized) the freshmen for continuosly throwing up during practice due to his consumption of the Dr. Pepper i had given him. But he would never tell my coach that because all the freshmen were terrified of me. I listened as my coach disabused(to correct a false impression; undeceive mentally) the false impression i had imprinted in his head. I knew I probably could have convinced him to consume steroids because of all humans tndencies to have everything go easy this tendency was innate (present from birth) thus it was in every one even me. It was shocking that something so austere (severely simple and unornamented) such as sports could influence people to rely on drugs or perfomance enhancers. I flouted(to reject; mock; show contempt for) the professional athletes who relied on drugs in order to perform better. And this was a text book example of how human beings could be used

  59. Note: A very poetic piece of writing (on a creative scale), but it lacks the definitions/parts of speech to receive full credit. FYI — Mr. Long

    I am sain, and nothing other. I see snow in summer and sunshine in winter. As the cold freezes my body the sun luminously burns through the fleash and eats to the soul. As it burns I run and run but every where I go it is, through windows doors cracks everywhere. I through rocks sticks and anything else I can find but it only flouts me at my attempts. So I sleep, for every hour the horrid beast is awake. I want to kill it…

    It was innate that this fire has been beyond the clouds, mocking me. People attempt to disabuse what I see and know but they are ignorant. They do not know what I know and do not believe what I tell them. People say I need help but I don’t, they do. But I go any ways talk as the man as he writes, then he talks but I don’t listen. The light from “him” shines through as it slowly takes over the room. What the man speaks is I consequential to this austere but vicious intity.

    I have a wife, kids, but I left to because he is after me. Day after day he instigates but I shy away, today I will fitght. I will win and I will prove to every one my heresy is true. I used to be in a heirchy and I used to have a job and a family and it was taken by “him”. Yes today I will fight, today is the day.

  60. The man’s name is Sam. He is a tall, skinny man with a inner intimidation unspoken of but recognized. Sam is a journalist for the local newspaper company. He plans to one day move to New York to pursue a jouranlist career there in hopes of being ‘the top’ jouranlist. In the office, Sam begins his ordinary day by writing a few columbs here and there and looking for new interesting stories to pursue. On this particular day, Sam’s desk phone rang with that annoying beep. “Hello this is Sam. How can i help you?” said Sam in his perfesional tone. The voice on the other end was a warm and deep voice. The man on the other end was a owner of a major printing cooperation and was looking for a new reporter. The man wanted Sam to come to New York and compete with ten more top jouranlist and told him that they would give each of the jouranlists censure(severve critisism,). Thiscall would eventually change Sam’s life forever.

    As Sam’s day was coming to an end, the thoughts of the possible competition amongst his rivals and the possibility to achieve his dreams and instigate(to get sdomething started,) his life was overwhelming. Sam had always had a talent innate(present from birth,)and in his middle years was shining through. Sam had made the decision he would go to New York and compete for the jouranlist spot.

    The plane’s engines were roaring as the plane began to gain speed and intensity. The next thing Sam knew the plane was gently touching the ground, as to flout(reject or mock,) the sky. Sam made his way through the city, nothing was stopping him, nothing would stop him. He finally found the brown brick building. From the moment he stepped inside was when the competition started. The competition was for each of the jouranlists to come up with an image to show an american classic with a twist and write a slogan about the image selceted. Sam’s goal was austere(severely simple,) and would get straight to the point.

    Sam ended up picking an image that was luminous(issuing light) and showed an American classic. The image was that of a Dr Pepper glass bottle. This image was sophisticated but simple and showed an american classic with a twist. Whether it was literal as to twist the bottle cap or to show the world a new view. This was not heresy(unimportant) to the world. This showed the world the truth behind a classic and not disabuse(false impression). This is how Sam has become the new top jouranlist in all of New York city and achieved all his dreams.

  61. I have always had an innate (adj; present from birth) passion for sled dogs like Siberian huskies, Eskimo dogs, Alaskan huskies and malamutes. My parents, however; found dogs inconsequential (adj; unimportant) and not wanting to follow my parents’ footsteps a heresy (n; an opinion that contradicts established principles). They would give me censors (n; severe criticism) about those topics and once I tried to explain to them how dogs are and how not following their parents’ footsteps was not bad in order to disabuse (v; to correct a false impression) their ideas but they would not hear it. I eventually moved out of the house, got a job, and recently began to raise three dogs. Two, Balto and Buck, were Alaskan huskies and one, Feisty was an Eskimo dog. What I did for living was not what my parents did so I think they disowned me since we have not talked for a long time. Despite that I wish they would understand me, I was doing okay. I had a pretty good job and got a raise every once in awhile for my hard work. One day though, was going to change my life. That day was when my boss told me that I was going to go to Alaska for a meeting. The one who was originally going got in an accident, so this was a last minute notice. Not being able to get a hold of my friend who usually watches over my dogs at the last minute, I decided to bring them along.

    I went on an austere (adj; simple) private plane. Eventually, we came to an area with little to no signal which will continue to be that way for the next hour or half an hour or so when my pilot had a heart attack. My dogs did realize this, but for awhile, I did not know what they were barking about and there was no signal to make contact when I finally realized it. Not knowing how to fly the plane, I put my parachute on and jumped out with my dogs. Somehow, I was able to get the parachute open and get all four of us on the ground safely. The plane eventually crashed into a frozen lake on fire but the fire went away when the plane became submerged under water. Now, we were lost and in the middle of nowhere. The air was still and it was cloudless. I knew I should start finding shelter since I did not know when the next storm would hit or when a rescue team would come since it would be awhile before they realize that we should have been able to make contact again. It seemed like hours before my dogs found shelter and by now felt extremely cold and hungry. The shelter entrance was piled with snow, leaving the opening to be small which would help keeping the temperature inside warmer than the outside. It was next to some trees as I saw the luminous (adj; issuing light) sunrise through the trees. Shortly after we found the shelter, the temperature started dropping drastically and a storm came. For this I was also glad that I collected some wood along the way. After about the twentieth try, I finally made a fire. I did not have the best clothing on and was therefore still extremely cold as I huddled around the fire. My dogs, noticing my shivering came to lay on top and by me trying to keep me warm. The storm seemed to have howled forever and I was afraid to sleep in fear that I might never wake up. I eventually unintentionally fell asleep. When I woke up, I found myself in a room at the hospital. I was told that one of my dogs, Balto, ran about half the length of the Iditorod race to get help.

    After that event, I got the feeling of wanting to race in the Iditorod. I eventually got myself a team with Balto as my lead dog. I had decided to leave three of my dogs because they would flout (v; show contempt for) some of the other dogs and even sometimes get themselves in a fight to be in the hierarchy (n; a formall ranked group). I stood getting ready for the signal to instigate (v; to get something started) the Iditorod race.

  62. LATE RESPONSE

    “Ahhhh” the fresh crisp taste of Dublin Dr. Pepper. This wonderful drink is so much better then normal Dr. Pepper; in fact regular is just attempt to save money. This version should be flouted (rejected, verb). This, to some is wrong, and many people might want to disabuse (to correct a false impression, verb) the “great taste” (This is so sarcastic if you didn’t catch that I might think differently of you from now on.) of regular Dr. Pepper (D.P.). Some may say that this is heresy (an opinion that contradicts established principles, adj) because a large portion of Americans have never tasted the really GREAT taste of Dublin D.P.

    This is just one of those tastes you wake up in the morning craving once in a while. Just after seeing the luminous (issuing light, adj) of the sun as you rise from bed. Then just after you get the cereal from the cabinet, you reach into the fridge to get the milk. As you grab it, the light from the sun glistens off something, this catches your eye. You move the butter and the orange juice to see the one and only good type of D.P., Dublin D.P. This austere (severely simple and unornamented, adj) product should be brought back. Dublin D.P. should be put back onto the public shelves across the state so that all may enjoy its bounty. Then, someday when it tops the charts as the best drink ever because of a hierarchy (a formally ranked group, adj) the world will stand up and cheer as they drink a nice cold bottle of Dublin D.P.

    This argument may be inconsequential (unimportant, adj) being that most of the population would have to disagree with this because of there corrupted taste buds. This short topic could also instigate (get something started, verb) some censure (severe criticism, noun) from the world. However these consequences are grand, this is to let Americans know that the fact of the taste of Dublin D.P. is better then regular D.P. should be innate (present from birth, adj). Oh how I wish I knew of this wonderful taste when I was young. It was tragic to me to find out that there is a type of Dr. Pepper out there that was actually drinkable.

    *note I do look forward to responses to this one.* (publish this part if you wish I really don’t care.)

  63. LATE RESPONSE

    Its a winter day in Europe as i go towards the grave sight of my fallen brothers. As I am walking this snow covered path I pass a tree with the sun directly behind it. As i look at the tree i am consumed by a luminous (adj. issuing light) light as i am being taken back in time. To a place that i thought i had already lived through. A place that will never be forgotten by the people who lived through it. A place of battle and death that was instigated (v. to get something started) by Germany and Japan.

    Adolf Hitler and his nazi regime and his hierarchy (n. a formall ranked group) failed to tell how he needed to disabuse (v. to correct a false impression; undeceive mentally) his intensions which led the world to war. At the time I was 15 when he invaded poland. When I heard of this I thought that it would end quickly and not to turn into another Great War. I believed that Hitlers ideals were heresy (adj. an opinion that contradicts established principles) and that i would join the military to help prevent anymore wars that might occur. This received censure (n. severe criticism) my parents because they thought that it was a reckless desicion to make. So i summed up in a very austere (v. severely simple and unornamented) and that I thought that it was my duty to serve my country and to protect it from dictators like Hitler.

    I joined the United states air force with the intent of becoming a fighter. Before i could train i had to get examined so that they knew i met regulations. I didn’t have 20 20 vision but i told the nurse that it was inconsequential ( adj. unimportant), that it was all guts and feeling and that if she flouted (v. to reject; mock; show contempt for) me, the Air Force would be losing one of the best pilots they had. I got to fly but after to weeks of training I lost a friend in a training accident. I flew 56 combat missions escorting bombers and flying defense for Britain. They told me i had a skill that must have been innate (adj. present from birth). I lost alot of good friends during those combat missions. As i sit there looking at there graves i remember all the great memories i have of them and that they must be in a better place.

  64. LATE RESPONSE

    It was a cold evening, I was walking through the woods with my best friend and we passed by these trees. My best friend noticed that the way the sun shined through the trees was different. He said that it would look like the most beautiful luminous (issuing light, adj.) night he had ever seen. I looked over at the trees, then at him and to me it just looked like a regular austere (severely simple and unornamented, adj.) night. Jake got so mad he instigated (to get something started, v.) an argument to prove me wrong. That was his personality though, he always needed to be right at least in his own eyes.

    Jake always said that there was nothing that was inconsquential (unimportant, adj.) to the world. Everything had an innate purpose since before mankind began. That’s one of the characteriscs I love most about him though. So as we were walking by the sun shone through the trees like a heart, but the branches looked like an X. We both thought that that was the most peculiar thing we had ever seen. It’s like it was a heresy (an opinon that contradicts established principles, n.) in the woods.

    After looking at the scene for a while and taking pictures, we walked on by and thought about what was the reason why nature formed that way. It’s like nature was trying to diabuse (to correct a false impression; undeceive mentally, v.) our thoughts. When we arrived home, we told each of our parents of what we had seen and they gave us great censure (severe criticism, n.) and flouted (to reject; show contempt for, v.) our opinions of nature. Even though they didn’t beleive us, we know what we saw and it will forever remain in our minds and souls. We will form our own hierarchy (a formally ranked group, n.) against our parents to prove us right, just like Jake’s state of mind.

  65. NO CREDIT — Vocab words not actually used in this response
    LATE RESPONSE

    Mornings are always the best at mom and pops house. They wake me up with a refreshing glass of orange juice and a big bowl of fruit loops, just the way I like it. They know just how to get to a kids heart the right way. The juicy crunchy o’s melt in your mouth with each bite and make you feel a sensation of fruitiness. What more can a kid ask for?

    Everything was always a routine except for one morning at mom and pops house when there was chaos in the house. I awoke more excited than ever to eat and enjoy my fruit loops, but boy was I in for a surprise. Mom and pop seemed unusual this morning for some reason that I can not yet put my finger on. They were acting rather mysterious. The ultimate shock came over me when it was announced to me that there were no more fruit loops! I didn’t know what to do so I spoke to the only person that understood me.

    Toucan sam and I had been buddies for ever and ever until this point when I explained to him that all of the fruit loops had magically disappeared. At first we thought it could’ve been that silly rabbit from trix or maybe lucky from lucky charms. But at that moment, sam revealed to me a humongous secret! He had witnessed mom and pop doing the unthinkable. This action was so drastic that sam had to take a deep breath before telling me what he had witnessed! He told me that he had witnessed mom and pop eating my fruit loops. “How dare they”, I thought to my self in rage. I approached them with a mean look on my face. But boy did they surprise me! Mom reached behind her back and pulled a big box of fruit loops from behind her back. This was a day to remember. Mornings are always best at mom and pop’s house.

  66. LATE RESPONSE

    Today seemed like yet another austere (adj; simple), dull day. I woke up, ate my Froot Loops, and went about my normal routine. I received a normal amount of censure (n; sever criticism) from my mother that morning, and I responded by flouting (v; to mock) her. Like most of our arguments, this one was inconsequential (adj; unimportant) and accomplished very little. It is for this reason that I rarely instigated (v; start) fights with her.

    When I walked outside to go to school, I noticed something was wrong. There was a light fog and stale smell in the air. As I looked around, I noticed that there were no birds in the trees, no dogs barking at me or squirrels chasing each other across the lawn. I thought nothing of it as I walked to my car and turned on the engine. But just as I was making my way out of driveway I noticed a man with a severe limp walking up the street toward my house. As he approached, I noticed that he was covered in blood and his clothes were torn. I soon realized that he was not alone, either. There were probably 15 more men and women in the same shape just behind him, except they were running in my direction. The shade created by the trees on my street kept me from clearly seeing who these people were, that is, until they ran through a luminous (adj; issuing light) gap in the trees. It was at that point that I could tell that there was something very wrong with these people. Part of me wanted to help them, but my instincts, and the agitated expressions on their faces, told me that I needed to escape as soon as possible. I drove through and around the people just as they were reaching my car, and as I passed several of them attempted to get on while others banged their fists on the sides. They certainly disabused (v; to undeceive) my impression that they were in need of my help. These people wanted to kill me.

    I drove around the city, just hoping to find someone with answers. As I passed the grocery store, I noticed several men and women that looked more like me, running inside. I quickly pulled up and went inside, begging them to stop and talk to me. They said that everyone had been infected by some kind of virus, but they didn’t know what. The people I was talking to were part of a hierarchy (n; formally ranked group) created in the last few hours in an effort to organize some sort of resistance to the infected. One man believed that the virus was created by someone intentionally, but the rest of the group argued that his idea was heresy (n; opinion contradicting established principals) because no man could do something so horrible.

    In the middle of our discussion, the lights in the store suddenly went out, and we could all hear the sound of footsteps quickly approaching. Within a matter of seconds a horde of the infected had made their way to where we were hiding, near the pharmacy. We were completely defenseless, and our small group was wiped out at an alarming rate. I tried to escape, but I was completely surrounded. One of the infected bit me on the arm and I knew I was as good as dead. They left me lying on the ground, waiting for the virus to fill my bloodstream. But it never did. The infected must have thought I had died because they lost interest in me and walked away. I must have had an innate (adj; present from birth) immunity to the virus. I waited for them to leave and I proceeded to gather the supplies I needed to survive. I might be here for a while.

  67. Student Response #1

    I’m responding to student #6.

    Your story was very interesting. I think it was simply because of its uniqueness. In some cases when you read vocab stories they are not very original, or don’t hold your attention. Yours was different. It held my attention throughout. I was interested in who and why they were attacking. As the story continued it made me wonder how the animals lives had truly been change by the humans encroaching on their territory.

    It was interesting seeing the situation from the animal’s point of view. It seems the story would have been very different if it had been from a human that had grown up in the village. It might be something to think about actually writing to explore your story further. What were the humans thoughts as the animals attacked? How would they react? Who would win?

    I also found the hierarchy of the animals interesting. The titles themselves were interesting. They were not just the leaders but the protectors and spirits watching over their packs. I personally think that this would be a very interesting story if you expanded on it. If you gave the reader the history of when the humans arrived, or the war that follows. Who will win, who will survive. How will it all happen. It would have been more interesting if you gave us a little more of a background on the characters. It would have been interesting to look in to the past and see what formed the animals into who they were and what life was like before the humans came. Overall it was an interesting story and you should think about expanding on it.

  68. Student Response #2

    I’m responding to Student #6.

    What?! You can’t just end it there! You had me so interested! You could turn this little start into a whole story, a novel even. It sounded like there was so much behind it, like there was a whole bunch of paragraphs and a climax and everything in store. (I’m guessing you just had other things to do than to spend time on this one assignment.)

    This story caught my attention because I love wolves and animals and nature, and a lot of the stuff I write myself deals with the conflict between them and Man. Stupid Man, always killing and destroying their forests. Another thing that made me immediately interested was the way you capitalized certain words (“Animal Keepers,” “Night Force,” “Wolf Spirit”). It definately started to sound like a fantasy or scifi story, which is what I like to read.

    A lot of the vocab stories on here are just simple stories that use all the words and have at least three paragraphs and that’s it. And that’s perfectly fine. But I love that you have created an entire world. You’ve created entities and unique names and organized groups, and they feel like they’re timeless. Your characters are so developed: they’ve got personalities, pasts, hopes, and goals. You’ve got lots of imaginative stuff in you head. I only wish you would take the time to write the rest of it down! Because I want to read it!

  69. LATE RESPONSE

    I stare blankly at my breakfast and can’t shake all of the stressful feelings. What did I forget? What do I need? What am I doing? Why can’t it all just slow down? What hierarchy(a formally ranked group)(noun) made the decision that one single word could so quickly end or destroy something? Nothing I do is inconsequential(unimportant)(adjective), everything has a purpose, either to destroy me or give me another reason to keep trying. These feelings of stress are innate(present from birth)(adjective) to me. For now I push all of these questions aside and eat. I look at the cereal box and see FROOTY LOOPYS, all of a sudden my OCD kicks in and I can’t stand to look at it any longer. My dogs start to bark and it annoys me enough to quit eating, pick up my bag and leave.

    I live in New Hope, Minnesota, but ironically there’s no hope for me. Everyday I go to work in suite 454 of the Hallifax building and am constantly censured(to receive severe criticism)(verb) by my boss, Mr. Gremil. He’s a tiny man with fake hair and he never has his tie tightened. It’s as if he walks out the door of his house waving to his wife, tie tied, and as soon as he gets on the freeway, he unties it. Once again my OCD at it’s best. After the attack from Gremil I sit down at my cubicle and watch Victoria Golds for around 45 minutes. I don’t watch her because I’m attracted to her or anything of that sort, I watch her because she disgusts me. Watching Victoria is like watching a fly land on garbage over and over, you just don’t understand why she does the things she does the way she does them. First of all her overweight body rolls over the arm rests of her chair, and her keyboard is stained by every kind of sauce you can imagine. The worst is when she notices I’ve been giving her dirty looks for the past half an hour and then I have to disabuse her mind to smooth things over. This is only 45 minutes of my exciting day. The man who has sits next to me and looks like he has sat in the same position for the last 55 years is Joe Bronstein, he’s the most austere(severely simple and unornamented)(adjective) man I’ve ever seen. He eats the same lunch everyday, a ham sandwich and an apple. Once I offered him a bag of chips and he flouted(rejected)(verb) the idea immediately.

    No one around me ever instigates(to get something started)(verb) a change in their life, they stay the same after a certain age is reached. I just wish I could have a luminous(issuing light)(adjective) feeling like I did when I was in college and I had several plans. Now I live a plan that I have not chosen, but I have to live this plan to survive. Or do I? You know what, today I become a heresy(an opinion that contradicts established principles)(noun). I’m not going to follow the paved path I think I should, I’m going to walk the beaten path threw an exciting jungle that will take me somewhere I’ve never been. No more suit and tie, no more Victoria Golds, I’m going to find my true love, whatever it may be.

  70. Student 67 (just for fun)

    LATE RESPONSE (but a clever 2nd entry from the same student, so Mr. Long is going to add it)

    Dr. Pepper you made my life.
    Dr. Pepper if you were a woman you would be my wife.
    My love for you Dr. Pepper was innate.
    That soothing feeling when I drink you is oh so great.
    I remember being 3 years old,
    Instigating something that would become age old.
    I used to think what soda I would drink
    Was inconsequential but now I realize that you are essential,
    To me, my sweet baby.
    There is a land in which they flout
    All other sodas without a doubt.
    In that land I solely am the hierarchy
    I want to look nice for you so I always wear khakis.
    The propaganda of other colas are just heresies
    When I see them in the streets I close my eyes not to see.
    Dr. Pepper I first saw you and I looked like a deer in the headlights
    Blinded by your luminous appearance I was so austere.
    Never will I ever have to disabuse
    For if I did I would only feel blues.
    Now at this time censure is felt from the critics all around
    Do not listen to their awful demon sounds.
    But listen to me now, I have one question to ask of the
    Do you even have a PhD?

  71. Student Response #3

    I am responding to Student #8

    I was impressed by how you purposely linked color (or the lack there) to go beyond a storyline about cereal. White characterized a mundane life which started with a routine morning ritual. I was easily able to picture the white cabinets, appliances, ceramic bowl, and tablecloth. This sterile, colorless environment was a perfect backdrop for you to introduce the multi-colored cereal. It made me think of an artist starting with a blank palette and then splashing every imaginable hue onto a pristine surface. You wrote, “I wasn’t in denial about my colorless life, yet I still enjoyed the most colorful and bright cereal imaginable, more so for its color than its taste.” The cereal, in my opinion, represented a renewed spirit, and anticipation of a brighter more adventurous future, void of trivial pettiness.

    I like how subtly led into the light versus dark scenario, again carrying forward the dichotomy of color theme. At first, I didn’t catch the significance of opening the white refrigerator. Obviously it had to be opened to retrieve the white milk, but there was another layer of importance. You cleverly launched into how you tried to determine when exactly the refrigerator light went dark, or if the light ever did really become lifeless. You never did answer this question -which I think was clever. Instead you left it at,”… but nothing could be seen, not light nor dark.” This was a clever double negative.

    Your cadence changed unexpectedly and often when you transitioned to black versus light. Suddenly there was desperation and a sense of deep urgency associated with the opposition of color and shading. No longer were the words “white”, “colorless”, “multi-colored” or “dark” used. For the first time you employed the color black. Black signified the possibility of asphyxiation. Your description was potent when you wrote, “Black, nothing. It invaded every corner of my soul and was the only thing that I could see from one end of the horizon to another.” I interpreted the “huge black cloud” to be death. Just as quickly as “black” approached, “light penetrated the dark.” I assumed all was well, until you changed the tempo again with, “I relaxed and slipped back into the black.” Without skipping a beat you wrote, “However, this time, it was not the same menacing cloud that seemed to blot out all light and all hope. It was a much softer black that gently cushioned my sleep.” After much back and forth, I was happy to read that everything was okay. But everything really wasn’t okay. The cereal that had brought so much hope was dead. Color had become colorless white.

  72. Student Response #4

    Response to student 67’s first post

    The questions at the first of the post seem to me the questions of a person in 1984 who just started to think. In fact this whole document reminds me of the book. The line “What Hierarchy made the decision that one single word could so quickly end or destroy something” makes me think about the thoughtpolice. This is because that just one word, just one little thought of rebellion and practically off with your head. Also FROOTY LOOPYS…I to wonder what person thought that name up, it is so original, cant you just feel the sarcasm in that comment!

    suite 454 Halifax makes me think of both the miniTruth and victory mansions. How Winston just goes back and forth, home to work and never anything else, his life is just like a record set on repeat, BORING. Mr. Gremil reminds me of BB, I really don’t know why but it does, just thought I would throw that out there. Victoria Golds triggers are reaction in my brain, telling me that she is the girl Winston hates. However they area completely different, one is fat, the other athletic. So this is really puzzling, but what ever, moving on. Joe Bronstein, hmmmm, nothing clicks for him. Other then the fact he is stuck in a deep, deep rut and isn’t trying to get out, he seems to just go through the motions of the day, day after day after day.

    The first line of the third paragraph makes me think of how no one asks questions in 1984. No instigation, no interrogative language, just oh thats interesting but I don’t want to know. When Student 67 declares themselves a heresy, it is like Winston when he buys the journal, writes in it, and then starts to go against the crowd. The main thing is that it’s when Winston breaks a rule and THINKS. He no longer walks the paved path, he runs down his own, separate from society. Also for your last line S67, good luck on your quest.

  73. Student Response #5

    Responding to Student 49

    Your story made me smile when I read about mixing together drinks. It immediately brought back memories of when I was younger. When I was in elementary school, my friends and I always got in trouble for mixing concoctions. And now one of my friends and I do the same thing really late at night. I just thought it was a really cool reminder of how we all find (or found) it really amusing to mix random items to make interesting drinks.

    I thought it was really cool how the characters became the makers of Dr. Pepper. It wasn’t expected and I thought it was a really fun twist. I also liked how the doctor would be giving them the recipe for soda. I think it is a little ironic because soda isn’t the most healthful drink, and doctors are supposed to be helping to improve health. It is just a cool concept of thinking of how products are made. It may not be something that everyone usually thinks about.

    I also like how you made David and the narrator skeptical of the recipe at first. I think that if this were real life, they wouldn’t find as much joy in it if there was no doubt. The story really drew me in and allowed me to think about how things really are created. I think that it would be really cool to hear stories about how products are created like this one. It could be really cool to hear the background stories.

  74. Student Response #6

    Responding to student #11

    I really like the beginning of your story. It not too long and not too short. It is a good sized short story. It started off nicely just like any other story, but the ending was unique. I have to admit it was pretty scary that the boy was eating his own dog. I would be really grossed out if that happened to me.

    I am happy to know that at least some people know how to spell the word “Froot loops.” I don’t think I will ever eat something in the cafeteria labeled mystery meat. I would remember your story every time I run into that phrase. I agree with you about when the dog ate the key to the safe. I would think parents would understand when the dog does something wrong.

    I also agree about the part withe the jewelry. I don’t think anyone should judge you on what kind of clothes you wear at all. There should be something else that the people should judge you on. Overall it was a really good story, I liked it very much. I would totally recommend it to it people I want gross out though.

  75. Student Response #7

    I am responding to student # 23.

    I instantly stopped scrolling the page when I got to your story. I think it is a really great talent that your first sentence could makes someone stop scrolling a page of over 70 stories to read yours. I don’t want to say that your first sentence packed a lot of punch, because the sentence seems so simple, just six words that are common vocabulary, but it is the first sentences that are simple and short that give more opportunity to learn what the story is about and for you to expand on it. The stories that have the super rambly first entences (I usually do them too) are fine but they don’t seem as real I guess. You are good at making a person pay attention to your story and that is a really good trait. Though the story didn’t really have a title, the first sentence kind of served as that because of its length, it caught my eye.

    The story in itself is a really lovely idea. As teens, it just seems like one of those little fairy tale scenarios that you always hope for. The way you used description was beautiful. You really have a knack for allowing the reader to really visualize the scene you are describing such as how you described the snow being melted a little and the giant footprints. The message of the story was really cute. How it seemed like a dream and how things can seem so perfect that they don’t seem real but they actually are.

    The dialect was what really caught my attention reading this story. The way the characters talk is actually how people talk, it seems natural. Obviously this story is a good representation of you and very characteristic of how you talk so I found it interesting how the characters in the story talk exactly like you. What I really liked is how you didn’t make the words the focal point of the story. They just flowed perfectly, just as they should. Overall your story was really lovely and interesting to read. You have a lot of talent for writing things that seem real.

  76. Student Response #8

    I’m responding to student 8:

    Wow! That was quite a story there! But I was totally entranced in it. You know how you’re just scanning through these stories, trying to find the one that seems the most intresting, one you can actually write about. Lol, I do admit I did skip one of your paragraphs, but I went back and read it :).

    I loved the fact that you kept everything plain and white. It was like a colorless story almost, fruit loops, then everything else white. That was amazingly creative, I absolutly loved it! Sorry if I’m being a little over dramatic much. But no, it was a good little mini story. Thats what I think of these vocab stories as, “mini stories”. It sort of helps me when I’m looking through all of them, so I can find one to read that I know I can enjoy.

    So yeah, not sure what else to put in this paragraph. I said it was great, very creative. It was also shocking though. I never thought the person was going to be allergic to the fruit loops! I was like, omg, crazy unpredictable. But I’m glad the person didn’t die :).

  77. Student Response #9

    I’m responding to student # 38

    I liked the story because it was pretty funny near the end. It started out just describing a Dr. Pepper. Along with the people who enjoyed it’s taste. Although I’m more a Sunkist kind of person, Dr. Pepper is a nice drink. Interesting thought about how everyone will turn into zombies because of Dr. Pepper.

    Now what happened to Sunkist? The exact opposite seemed to happen in real life. Dr Pepper and Coke still go on strong, but Sunkist disappeared off the face of the planet. Least I haven’t seen a can of that drink for awhile now. Funny though how you described sodas being the sweet nectar of life. It’s like their own drug.

    That would be pretty funny if Dr. pepper went to such drastic measures. I think Sunkist has already felt their wrath. Again, this was very funny near the end. I don’t wanna know the new diet orange flavored drink Dr. Pepper thinks of. I doubt it will taste good. I mean it doesn’t sound good already.

  78. Student Response #10

    I’m responding to Student 67’s just for fun.

    Let me just say this piece of writing made me laugh really hard. It was cleverly done, and it had a really good rhyme throughout the whole story. I would expect comedians to write something like this. You may be on your way to becoming one. I think you should try writing a poem like this only make it about Sunkist, Coca-cola, or some other soda.

    One of the things I like about your comedy poem is the last line: “Do you even have a PhD?” At first I didn’t even get it, but after a while I realized what you meant, and finally got the joke. I don’t think Dr. Pepper has a PhD, but I may be wrong. If he does have a PhD it would probably be a PhD in tasting or soda creating. Anyway its a funny joke.

    I would recommend you edit this some more, and then get it published. It would be funny to see it being told by some comedian. The vocab words are placed nicely and make sense, for example: “Was inconsequential but now I realize that you are essential.” It makes the poem sound even more hilarious, so you may not want to take them out. Overall this is a very creative piece of work. I hope you do more. 9 out of 10.

  79. Student Response #11

    I am responding to student # 6:

    I adore the story! I can totally see it being a bestseller at one point with an amazing cover page. Can I have the first signed copy if it gets published? I really enjoyed the way the animals think; it makes them sound superior over the humans. Considering that animals most likely are superior over humans, them knowing the land and earth better than we ever will.

    The line that explains why the humans are at a disadvantage by not having the animalistic senses, like good hearing and sight, puts this twist into your mind that does make you wonder: why are humans so high up on the food chain? We can’t even see in the dark. When the narrator explains what crimes the humans have committed, it makes you want to go put up signs to save the rainforest, and it’s amazing how real the animal’s mindset seems. Of course, they would never understand that the hardening of the hide had a value to the humans, but I can see what a torment it must seem to a pack-member. The animal’s point of view is easily understood and really easy to relate to.

    I enjoyed that the names weren’t ‘Jack’ or ‘Sam’; the names you gave them make sense and it gives the world they live in a deeper feel, because they have their own “language”. Even though it is the real world as a setting, the fact that it is seen through another creature’s view is a wonderful idea. You also managed to bring it to life very easily, by keeping the language simple which reminds the reader that we are seeing the world through their eyes. The names are very well placed, Rey sounds a lot like the Spanish word for ‘king’ and Rey is a respectable figure in the pack. It was a very exciting story, and I hope to read a sequel maybe soon.

  80. Student Response #12

    I am responding to student #26

    Good job, I liked that your story had werewolves in it. One of my favorite kinds of stories to read is fantasy fiction. There were also a couple other stories I enjoyed but I chose this one mainly because I wanted to ask a couple of things about the story. Don’t get me wrong though, I did enjoy your story and I am not trying to be mean or point out all the mistakes you made for your embarrassment. I just wanted to point out a couple of things that I found a bit confusing that you might be able to explain. Of coarse, you don’t have to answer me if you don’t want to nor will you probably even see this entry since I entered it late Sunday night.

    I was wondering, the father said that he “cannot change back into my human form until [he’s] fed upon a certain number of people…and one of them has to be of [his] blood” and that he had to kill his/her mother but his wife is not of his blood. Is she related to him by cousin or distant cousin or something? In that case, how distant does the person have to be? If it can go on forever, then technically, we are probably all related. Also, why did the father beg for her/him to not to tell his/her mother if he had already killed her? Shouldn’t he have begged for him/her not to tell anyone rather than just his/her mother?

    Overall, I thought it was a great story. Of course, you might have made yourself clear and it is just me that missed it or something. I have read it at least twice but I have been known to not read things clearly. Again, decides that I felt it was a bit unclear, I thought it was a pretty good story. Keep up the good work.

  81. Student Response #13

    Dear Student number 11,

    Finally someone with a dry sense of humor like my own. This reminds me of the ever so popular website FML which I will not go into detail about. I love writing and reading things that start and end with a clever something that sort of completes a circle. It really excites me when the end of that circle makes me laugh at something that is terrible. I don’t know why it makes me laugh, possibly because it’s fictional or at least I hope it is, but it never fails to raise a couple laughs out of me.

    If you’re trying to achieve a sadness in the readers thoughts then you may from others but not from me. I felt sad while reading right up until you said “pulled out a key”. The odd satisfaction of the rebirth of the key just sends a shiver down my spine and makes me smile. Call me crazy, because I probably am. Not only the key but all of the effort that was put forth to try and forget the dog make me laugh when the reason for the dog’s death is right in front of the young person.

    I feel as if the you could expand this to make it much more believable. I don’t really believe someone would abandon a dog so quickly. Also the “mystery meat” is not very believable either, I would have put in a myth that the mystery meat was dogs which were found on the side of the road that had been hit by a car or something of that sort. This story has a beginning and and end and could be beefed or mystery meated up in the midsection a bit.

  82. Student Response #14

    Responding to student 17

    Please don’t end this story! Wow, I really think that every one of us occasionally gets behind on a week and has to write a vocab story for the sake of the grade, but it really makes me happy when people write a truly meaningful story with this ones obvious quality.(not suggesting it doesn’t happen often because it does) I love this story for a variety of reasons. The most out there reason being that when I was younger I was really into DareDevil if you’re familiar with his story and this reminds me of him which is cool.

    As much as I hate it I love the ending, it leaves the reader to decide why Justine lost him. A really small thing that I thought was great was the intentional or not line of it not being love at first SIGHT. It makes me smile. I really think that if you had some time with this story it could be something really special, but alas who has the time right. To gain the time I strongly recommend taking Creative writing next year, unless of course you’re already in it 😉 The class will really let you do things with your writing that you might never have time for otherwise.

    If I may humbly offer one meant to be constructive remark/criticism, i think that the way David’s sight was lost could be played with to be something really cool. Time constraints hold all of us back in doing these stories so i understand not dedicating much time to that detail and getting to the point. Still i really think something interesting could have happened there. I’m not sure if I’ll ever know what really happened to his eyes but I’ll imagine a really cool way that casts him in a good light, and I’ll try to come up with my own version of why David was lost to Justine because the most obvious answer of death just doesn’t do it for me. Overall great story, keep writing because I really enjoyed this a lot. Thank you

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