“You better get those dishes cleaned before my daddy gets home, you don’t want to get whipped again,” Ann warned Billy pulling away from his face. Billy glanced at her with his round, deep brown eyes and his swollen lips muttered, “Alright, alright.” Ann sat down cross-legged, her thighs pressed against the cold tile. Billy got to work. “You know,” he said, “One of these days me and you won’t have to sneak around no more. One day I’ be free and it won’t be no problem for us to be lovers. I know I’m just a lil’ boy but I know we got somethin’ special. We’ll be togetha for life baby.” Ann’s eyes watched her skinny finger as she traced it through the cracks in the tile. “I hope so Billy, when we are all grown up we can get married and mama and daddy will be there supporting us. It will be lovely.” Her white teeth gleamed as a smile splashed across her face. “Mmm hmmm,” Billy replied, “I ain’t never seen no couple like us before, but we could be the first. We’d make history.” Just then they heard the front door swing open and Ann’s father’s footprints clanked overhead. Both of their eyes grew about an inch and they stared at eachother for a moment. Ann leaped to her feet and rushed out the door. Ann and Billy continued this secret relationship for many years. They made love in the cotton fields in the starts eyes. When Ann became pregnant she knew she could never stay with her famiy for fear her father may kill Billy. They ran away together to Canada and raised their child in freedom.
If I could have any super power it would be… hmmmm… to read people’s minds. I always wonder what people are thinking. I think it would be fascinating to know what’s going on inside people’s heads. Thoughts are such an intimate, private thing but I WANT TO KNOW! I think it would be really interesting to hear what people are thinking, if it was weird, funny, disgusting, cute, silly or rude. My weakness would be getting my feelings hurt if anyone were ever to think something mean about meor about someone I care about. That would be the hard thing about it. Of course if anyone were thinking nice compliments about me all the time that would be wonderful but obviously that’s not always the case. So, if I had that super power I would have to deal with the negative thoughts of people as well.
What would your perfect world be like? If you could create your own world:
What would it look like? Would there be chocolate rivers? Would you make trees that grow money? Would there even be money? What would the people be like? Would there even be people at all or would you create some other species? How would they look? What would the weather be like? What would there be to eat?
Write a paragraph describing your own perfect world. You don’t have to answer all these questions. They are just to get you thinking. BE CREATIVE! 
Thank you for asking this question Jessica because it is an important one and one that I’ve been thinking about quite a bit lately. Since I am in my senior year I feel like I am expected to know exactly what I want to do in my future and have a clear plan of how to get there. For me, this question has never been a straight answer. I am not one of those people who has had my heart set on a particular career, or lifestyle ever since I was young. I have always changed my mind. The first thing I can remember really being passionate about was in 3rd grade. We studied Helen Keller and I was so fascinated by her. She was my idol and I really wanted to grow up and help blind and deaf children. I wanted to learn sign language and help children become as amazing as Helen. Although I was very passionate about it then, I have since then changed my plans for my life several times. I’ve wanted to be a lawyer, a dolphin trainer, a hotel manager, a psychologist and a hair dresser. Right now, I am focused on becoming a hairdresser. I am going to Vidal Sassoon Academy next year to take a 10 month course and get a licence to be a hairdresser. Then after that I am going to university. I am still not sure what I am going to study :S I am considering psychology or maybe business so that some day I could own my own beauty salon. So, that’s my answer. I still am quite unsure! I have plenty of ideas but I’m just unsure of what I would enjoy doing most in my life and what would bring me the most success and happiness. I guess time will tell.
What character would make the most interesting in a short story; in what way would they have to be presented? What character flaws should he/she have, what age what attitudes to life etc? Make up a character or write about a character you read previously, presenting the character the way you would find him/her most interesting, to read?
A character that I found most interesting was Edward Cullen from Twilight. I know so many boys are sick of girls talking about him and how he is the perfect man bla bla bla. Before I read the book, I heard from so many people that “you’re gunna fall in love with Edward Cullen.” And I didn’t think i would, I was like he’s a vampire, that’s wierd. But he was just such a fascinating character. The way the author writes about him just makes the reader have this connection with him. The way she describes him makes him seem so flawless and handsome. I think in a short story, or any story there needs to be good descriptions of the character so that the reader can really imagine everything about them in their mind.
I enjoy a story when I am somehow connected to a character. Whether I love them, admire them, hate them, feel sympathy for them or can’t stand them, if I feel some sort of emotion toward the character I enjoy the book. When the character in the book comes alive and I can really imagine their persona, I enjoy reading about them. I tend to get really bored with books if I’m not enjoying them, but when there is a character that I am interested in I enjoy reading on about them.
Jesse stomps in with her Jimmy Choo heels and fake Gucci bag. Late. But who cares? She is the next Shakira. She sways to the music. ‘Please notice me, I wanna be famous!’ She twirls, crashes down, fractured tailbone. She will definetly be remembered, just not the way she wanted.
Hello, this is what I have created from my aniomoto poem. I added onto it and change it a bit. I need a title though! Help me! Also… I’m not sure if I say the Dalai Lama or just Dalai Lama. Let me know what you think and anything else you want to say is appreciated… as long as it’s not to harsh 
On February 19th, 1917 in California, I dove into life
I had a blissful childhood, spoiled with gumballs and toys of every kind
I was raised in the most ridiculous of mansions with 8 floors and crystal chandeliers
I’ve fallen in love a billion times with gorgeous, wealthy, famous men
I’ve travelled 6 times around the world, from coast to coast and back again
I’ve been to the Grand Canyon, climbed Mount Everest and seen the Northern Lights
I’ve hovered in space, jumped out of an airplane and ridden on a wild bull
I’ve participated in almost every Olympics, and set 13 world records
I’ve met the Dalai Lama, Marilyn Monroe, and The King himself
And now, in my old age, I’ve forgotten it all.
Hey Everyone! This is my latest poem I wrote, I was inspired to write it from the excersize in class with the painting on the smartboard. I hope you like it! I would like to know what you think is going on… because I want to know if I made that clear enough. Also I don’t really like the line about her eyes… so if you have any suggestions for that please give me them. If you have any suggestions about anything else either I would love it. Thanks homiesssss!
THAT SILHOUETTE
This was the last image my hazel eyes embraces before it was over:
The light mist descending from a world of grey
The thick branches pinching dying leaves ready to fall
The eerie fountain trickling slow drops into the pool of filth
The mirror placed along the marble ground from last night’s showers
The gloomy clouds glaring down at my soon to be lifeless body
The curious silhouette of that woman
Her slim, fragile figure underneath a blanket of black
Her oily white hair peeking out from under her charcoal beret
Her tiny heels rippling the water below
Her slits of eyes dancing around uncomfortably
But where were her hands?
On the pistol that would take my life in 5…4…3…2…
