deepundergroundpoetry.com
A draft for fictional narrative (based off true events and written as a journal)
Memories 10:23 pm
It’s funny the things that stay in your mind. the little details and snippets of reality that stay sketched in your head against your desire and will. For example despite how hard I try to forget that day I can still close my eyes and see everything. I guess somethings make sense. like the way i can still feel the lashings on my back or the rocks and sticks hitting my head, that’s not something you just forget right away. but there are other things from that day, things like the orange painted walls and sombreros that hung on them. I remember it was an oddly colorful home for such a quiet family, but i dont quite remember why i was there. I remember going out the back door with the two older boys to “play house” they said. I remember the leaves were wet and it was muddy. it was a warm spring day but their yard always looked like fall. it was always dead. I remember the older boy, Rodrigo, held a little baggie. It wasn’t anything impressive just a small bag with some black beads inside, but i wanted it. I wanted for two reasons really. first, the beads were shiney and second they both had a bag and I did not. I remember my dress was green. there was yelling and argueing, and then there was a fist. . every time I start to remember I am in danger of reliving. It’s been a good long eleven years since that boy punched me, and I can still feel his knuckles on my cheek. I still taste the blood from when i bit my tounge, and its a bitter taste indeed. for a split second the world was still while I stood there dazed from the blow nausious from the smell and tast of my own blood, and then another fist came down on me. If the first hit turned my mind off making me numb and confused the second brought me power and animation. I remember rage. I remember fear. I remembe fighting and giving my all. I kicked I clawed and i hit out in a wild despiration. oddly enough I made no sound other than an ocasional grunt or whine while i fought off my attackers. Now i feel its time i should mention I wasnt a good fighter by any means, but i kept them away enough to be ok. unfortionaly for me, they didnt fight fair. Rodrigo had slipped behind me while I was blocking his younger brothers attacks. I remember the snap. with that blow to the head both my spirit and that branch broke. I have never felt such a dizzying pain. everything was spinning, shaking, everything was blurred. They were whipping me. hitting me with thistle vines. I heard laughing, and big kid words. I remember the thoughts before my mind went white. ẅhats a bitch? I think I heard Mom say that once. where is mommy? Why cant I see” I remember hearing a scream. Looking back I know that i was crying and screaming. remembering this I can see myself curled in a small ball on the ground, my watermelon green dress soiled and pushed up to my neck so that my pale skin was exposed to the thorns and stones. I don't know how long I stayed there screaming hysterically begging for anyone to help me it was probably only a matter or moments to be honest, but I do know that it felt like hours. there was an unmistakable slam of a screen door and then deep voiced shouting. I have a hard time remembering this all but I do remember being carried away, carried home in strong arms. my skin was hot, my hands were sticky, and my head was spinning. looking up with blurry eyes i saw a man. He wore white with red. I remember my eyes were wet and my hair was tangled up with twigs and leaves. I stared confused at the red dots and streaks that adorned this man's white shirt. I remember a scream, a scream that scared me and made me jump in my strange angels arms. I remember my foggy brain grasping to understand what had happened and why. My older sister, nikki had never looked so scared and never so angry. it reminded me of the time i accidently ripped her big art project, only so so so much worse. I thought she was angry at me and so i did the only thing i could do. I cried. rather pathetically and very loudly i sobbed and blubbered in her arms apologizing, for what i didn’t know but i knew i had to fix this. again it’s funny what you remember cause shit, after that my mind is so blank. I know that my sisters friend beat the hell outa Rodrigo and I know that i didn't go to school for a month, but I don't remember what Nikki said when i broke in her arms or what my angel said to my mom after I was carried away. I guess I’ve just got a messy mind, but then I’ve never had a reason to keep it clean. I never asked to keep these memories, and in fact I’ve tried to leave them behind hundreds of times.
English 8:10 am
“Another day another dollar” He said, “work hard play hard” She said. Well I’m here working, wheres my dollar? When’s it gunna be play time? I guess I’m just not working hard enough, at least thats what they tell me. They being pretty much any and every adult to ever enter my life. “come on Sabrina! Can’t you at least try” try? Isn’t that what I’m doing now? I mean what would you call waking up at 5:40 am every weekday just to sit in this outdated factory. outdated because it’s original purpose was for a mass production of orderly little workers. School, a way to keep kids outa the way and off the streets, it’s here that i spend about seven and a half hours every week day. Here I sit in dull classes laboring over whatever task is set before me. Here my opinion is shamed and quieted as im shaped and molded into a little worker, a little model of what society wants and needs. Let me think for a second on what I’ve learned. I follow authority without question, follow a bell schedule, eat what im told to eat, talk to people im told to talk to, I follow. Yes seven and a half hours of dull routine and then I’m off to real work! I don’t make nearly enough of a dollar for me to feel secure but i suppose it’ll do for now. my five hour shift at Johnny's Grill isn’t a pretty thing but it’s a time to have pride in my self I guess. I know it’s not an easy job, i just wish others knew that too… “Sabrina” why can’t my english teacher just call me Rinna? Seriously though, it’s like she’s proud to be the only person that calls be by my full name. What’d she say the first time? “call one by their name and they will grow fond despite themselves” something like that I think, in any case it is so not working any charming magic on me. I have not grown fond of Ms. Hizlour in the slightest, nor have I come to “appreciate” her class. Crap, what was I even writing about? Once more I’m caught by the thought that I’m a mess, or at least in my mind. oops! Hizlour’s walking around better attempt some of this grammar.
Pg 107/ Reveiw B/ 1-5
Almost every one of the following sentences (give, gives) you a clue to the answer
Popcorn, as well as peanuts, (was, were) introduced to European settlers by American Indians.
No one in Europe (was, were) familiar with the taste of pumpkins, blueberries, or maple syrup until the explorers brought theses foods back from the Americas.
One American food that helped reduce the famine in Europe (was, were) potatoes.
A field of potatoes (produce, produces) almost twice as much food in about half as much growing time as the same field would if it were planted with wheat
Study hall 11:11
Make a wish! I wish I was anywhere but here. well no not anywhere. I don’t really want to go home or go to work but almost anywhere else would be ok. A crowded city, or desolate small town
It’s funny the things that stay in your mind. the little details and snippets of reality that stay sketched in your head against your desire and will. For example despite how hard I try to forget that day I can still close my eyes and see everything. I guess somethings make sense. like the way i can still feel the lashings on my back or the rocks and sticks hitting my head, that’s not something you just forget right away. but there are other things from that day, things like the orange painted walls and sombreros that hung on them. I remember it was an oddly colorful home for such a quiet family, but i dont quite remember why i was there. I remember going out the back door with the two older boys to “play house” they said. I remember the leaves were wet and it was muddy. it was a warm spring day but their yard always looked like fall. it was always dead. I remember the older boy, Rodrigo, held a little baggie. It wasn’t anything impressive just a small bag with some black beads inside, but i wanted it. I wanted for two reasons really. first, the beads were shiney and second they both had a bag and I did not. I remember my dress was green. there was yelling and argueing, and then there was a fist. . every time I start to remember I am in danger of reliving. It’s been a good long eleven years since that boy punched me, and I can still feel his knuckles on my cheek. I still taste the blood from when i bit my tounge, and its a bitter taste indeed. for a split second the world was still while I stood there dazed from the blow nausious from the smell and tast of my own blood, and then another fist came down on me. If the first hit turned my mind off making me numb and confused the second brought me power and animation. I remember rage. I remember fear. I remembe fighting and giving my all. I kicked I clawed and i hit out in a wild despiration. oddly enough I made no sound other than an ocasional grunt or whine while i fought off my attackers. Now i feel its time i should mention I wasnt a good fighter by any means, but i kept them away enough to be ok. unfortionaly for me, they didnt fight fair. Rodrigo had slipped behind me while I was blocking his younger brothers attacks. I remember the snap. with that blow to the head both my spirit and that branch broke. I have never felt such a dizzying pain. everything was spinning, shaking, everything was blurred. They were whipping me. hitting me with thistle vines. I heard laughing, and big kid words. I remember the thoughts before my mind went white. ẅhats a bitch? I think I heard Mom say that once. where is mommy? Why cant I see” I remember hearing a scream. Looking back I know that i was crying and screaming. remembering this I can see myself curled in a small ball on the ground, my watermelon green dress soiled and pushed up to my neck so that my pale skin was exposed to the thorns and stones. I don't know how long I stayed there screaming hysterically begging for anyone to help me it was probably only a matter or moments to be honest, but I do know that it felt like hours. there was an unmistakable slam of a screen door and then deep voiced shouting. I have a hard time remembering this all but I do remember being carried away, carried home in strong arms. my skin was hot, my hands were sticky, and my head was spinning. looking up with blurry eyes i saw a man. He wore white with red. I remember my eyes were wet and my hair was tangled up with twigs and leaves. I stared confused at the red dots and streaks that adorned this man's white shirt. I remember a scream, a scream that scared me and made me jump in my strange angels arms. I remember my foggy brain grasping to understand what had happened and why. My older sister, nikki had never looked so scared and never so angry. it reminded me of the time i accidently ripped her big art project, only so so so much worse. I thought she was angry at me and so i did the only thing i could do. I cried. rather pathetically and very loudly i sobbed and blubbered in her arms apologizing, for what i didn’t know but i knew i had to fix this. again it’s funny what you remember cause shit, after that my mind is so blank. I know that my sisters friend beat the hell outa Rodrigo and I know that i didn't go to school for a month, but I don't remember what Nikki said when i broke in her arms or what my angel said to my mom after I was carried away. I guess I’ve just got a messy mind, but then I’ve never had a reason to keep it clean. I never asked to keep these memories, and in fact I’ve tried to leave them behind hundreds of times.
English 8:10 am
“Another day another dollar” He said, “work hard play hard” She said. Well I’m here working, wheres my dollar? When’s it gunna be play time? I guess I’m just not working hard enough, at least thats what they tell me. They being pretty much any and every adult to ever enter my life. “come on Sabrina! Can’t you at least try” try? Isn’t that what I’m doing now? I mean what would you call waking up at 5:40 am every weekday just to sit in this outdated factory. outdated because it’s original purpose was for a mass production of orderly little workers. School, a way to keep kids outa the way and off the streets, it’s here that i spend about seven and a half hours every week day. Here I sit in dull classes laboring over whatever task is set before me. Here my opinion is shamed and quieted as im shaped and molded into a little worker, a little model of what society wants and needs. Let me think for a second on what I’ve learned. I follow authority without question, follow a bell schedule, eat what im told to eat, talk to people im told to talk to, I follow. Yes seven and a half hours of dull routine and then I’m off to real work! I don’t make nearly enough of a dollar for me to feel secure but i suppose it’ll do for now. my five hour shift at Johnny's Grill isn’t a pretty thing but it’s a time to have pride in my self I guess. I know it’s not an easy job, i just wish others knew that too… “Sabrina” why can’t my english teacher just call me Rinna? Seriously though, it’s like she’s proud to be the only person that calls be by my full name. What’d she say the first time? “call one by their name and they will grow fond despite themselves” something like that I think, in any case it is so not working any charming magic on me. I have not grown fond of Ms. Hizlour in the slightest, nor have I come to “appreciate” her class. Crap, what was I even writing about? Once more I’m caught by the thought that I’m a mess, or at least in my mind. oops! Hizlour’s walking around better attempt some of this grammar.
Pg 107/ Reveiw B/ 1-5
Almost every one of the following sentences (give, gives) you a clue to the answer
Popcorn, as well as peanuts, (was, were) introduced to European settlers by American Indians.
No one in Europe (was, were) familiar with the taste of pumpkins, blueberries, or maple syrup until the explorers brought theses foods back from the Americas.
One American food that helped reduce the famine in Europe (was, were) potatoes.
A field of potatoes (produce, produces) almost twice as much food in about half as much growing time as the same field would if it were planted with wheat
Study hall 11:11
Make a wish! I wish I was anywhere but here. well no not anywhere. I don’t really want to go home or go to work but almost anywhere else would be ok. A crowded city, or desolate small town
Published 16th Apr 2015
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