Missing You | Jessica Flory

Hi, all. I thought I might write something that's on my mind at the moment. This is just for fun. You never know; it could make SOME story some day.

It was hard to come to terms with what she was feeling. As far as her head was concerned, she could wait as long as it took until she saw him again. It was only a week and a half; she could certainly bear the separation. But her heart felt something very different. She missed him-no, ached for him. Her heart stuttered whenever his face came into her memory. Her chest tightened with the excitement of running to him and being wrapped in his arms once again. A week and a half seemed like an eternity.

Revised Poem; The Photograph | Jessica Flory

You, the little princess, a precious jewel too,

if you could jump into the future, would you?

If you said yes, this is what you'd see:

an older you of course. That would be me.

Ask yourself, do you like what you know

about this "you" that you see and into whom you will grow?

Or are you disappointed with the “you” you'll become?

Am I too serious? Do I have any fun?

Did I mess up somewhere? Do I walk in the light?

Would you still love me if we met tonight?

From what I remember, I like what you do.

I loved my childhood; me, young, is you.

So tell me once more, do you like what you see?

If not, please change it! You will grow to be me.

Dialog exercise

“Where have you been?” My sister’s voice was infested with worry, although she gave no sign of moving from the kitchen table.

I sighed, rather inaudibly. “Out,” was my reply.

“Out,” my sister repeated, as if she were trying to grasp the concept that her brother could have possibly spent time with someone other than himself.

“That’s right.” I opened the refrigerator and grabbed the last carton of chocolate milk. Sitting across from my sister, I opened the carton and took a swig. I caught her looking at me, and I stared back at her. I knew what she was going to say. Tonight she would give the lecture of how afraid she was whenever I went out without her notice.

“I thought we talked about this kind of thing,” she said, not taking her eyes from my face.

I raised the carton to my lips. “We have,” I replied before chugging the chocolate milk once more.

“And…” my sister waited for a reply.

“I don’t know what you’re getting at.” I set the empty carton on the table and started slowly twirling it around with my fingers. At seventeen years old, it was ridiculous to me that she was still afraid of being home alone.

“I’m just trying to figure out what happened.”

I sighed once again and stopped fiddling with the chocolate milk carton. I looked her in the face, and slowly leaned forward, my hands clasped in front of me.

“Go ahead,” I mumbled.

My sister looked down at the pencil and paper that lay before her and started to tap the eraser against the lined notebook. “That doesn’t help. You said you would help, at least.”

I chuckled and leaned back, fiddling once more with the empty milk carton on the table. “Sure,” I said, still smiling.

“Okay, that’s what I’m talking about.” My sister’s tone became a bit more irritable as she dropped the pencil onto the paper in utter disgust.

“What’s what you’re talking about?”

“That I just can’t deal with this kind of…” My sister’s voice trailed off as she scrunched her eyebrows in concentration. Her elbows on the table, she hid her face in her hands and muttered, “Forget it.”

I leaned forward, placing my hand on my sister’s arm. This scene played over and over every night, and although I knew that she would never tell me what was truly bothering her, I asked, “What?”

My sister shook her head, still hiding her face behind her hands. “Forget it. Nothing.” She leaned back against the chair, away from the touch of my hand. She looked at me once more , let out a discouraged breath of air, and shook her head. “I’m leaving,” she said as she slowly rose from the chair toward the door.

I surprised myself when I heard my own voice plea with her. “Don’t.” I had also risen from my chair and was standing there, begging with my eyes to make her stay.

“Well,” she began, trying to explain her sudden flight from the kitchen. No doubt that it had to do with how frustrated I was making her. I loved my sister. I wanted so badly to explain to her how proud I was of her that she was trying to get of her drug dealing friends, and how lonely I knew she felt. I wanted her to know that she was my only source of comfort and friendship. I wanted her to know that I truly did care for her and that I loved her very much. I just didn’t know how.

“Just don’t leave,” I slowly uttered the words, trying so hard to get them off of my tongue and past my lips.

My sister’s hand slid from the doorknob and back to her side. Her eyes became wet with tears, and they stared back at me. Through the wet curtain, I could see in her eyes that her mind was turning and slowly beginning to figure that I truly cared for her. All the things that I had wanted to say aloud were being said silently through my heart, and she could see them.

“No?” She took a small step toward me.

“No,” I replied. And in a moment, we were embracing, grateful to the other
that they were there.

Gust of Wind | Jessica Flory

The raft was suddenly dancing in the air. Being on top of the boat, I could’ve almost reached out and grabbed it to force it to stop dancing, but a sudden boom and lurch of the boat instantly brought my mind to what was happening.

Andrea, who had been asleep, suddenly appeared behind me. “Did you feel that?” I asked her, as her siblings appeared behind us.

“Yes, that’s why I woke up. I felt that.”

Another boom and lurch of the houseboat sent us running downstairs, wanting to laugh or make this thing more exciting, but unable to do so.

The wind picked up extremely fast and I could see things from on the top of the houseboat being blown into the lake. I suddenly heard Mike’s commanding voice.

“Is everyone on the boat?!”

Al and Megan boosted themselves out of the water as Mike’s voice came again. “Get out there and help re-anchor!”

Andrea, Megan, Kendra, Al, and I scuffled quickly off the boat and each went to one of the ropes. Chris, Tyler, and Sarah were already outside, each doing their own thing to help.

Suddenly, the boat began to tip to the side and I could see Markey on the top floor of the boat almost thrown to the other side. The rope we were holding onto went taut as the boat slammed into it. Everyone let go, but for some reason, I didn’t.

“Let go!” Everyone screamed, “Let go!”

I instantly let go and made my way quickly up the hill towards my friend, Kendra, who was only in her swimming suit. I, being only in shorts and a T-shirt, but at least having a little more cover on me, threw my arms around her scrawny shoulders and tried to block her from the sewing-pin like dirt that stung our legs and arms and any bare part of our body.

The sewing pins kept stabbing at our bodies as we were commanded to get hold of the rope that the boat was now pulling towards the lake. With our legs set firm in the sand and our arms locked, we kept the boat from tipping again. Until… the wind picked up even harder. The sharp pieces of sand went into our bodies again as we were dragged towards the lake.

I prayed for strength and… the wind suddenly settled for a moment and we were able to anchor the boat firmly. On that side, at least.

We noticed the top on the smaller boat being blown almost completely off. Megan, Andrea, Kendra, and I advanced towards the boat as the wind began to pick up again. Kendra and Andrea hopped into the boat and began to take the top down. However, Megan and I, feeling the pain from the sand, hid behind a rock. I felt foolish.

Finally and suddenly, the storm stopped. We anchored the boats better than we had before and then all settled down to thankfully rest.

For the rest of the vacation with my friends, I would always keep a sharp look out for dark clouds. And whenever a gust of wind came by, my breathing stopped.

We were in a canyon in Lake Powell. We did not even want to think of what happened on the lake.

The Brook | Jessica Flory

The brook laughs when it trips,
as it purls over rocks and pebbles.
Why can't we laugh when certain circumstances
befall us?

Laughter
is heard all day by the river.
Should it not be heard by us just as often?

The brook will always laugh
no matter how hard it falls.

The Wolves' Song | Jessica Flory

Listening in pitch black

To the wolves outside my tent.

They have the voice that I lack

The voice they have was sent.

They sing their song so neatly,

So high-pitched and so serene.

They don’t seem to do it discreetly

And their voices do careen.

They sing their song forward and back

Making a beautiful choir.

The song is beautiful within the pack

Like the comfort of a warm fire.

Tonight, nothing could go wrong,

May the howl in my mind, I keep.

The Wolves’ beautiful song

Seems to put me to sleep.

And with my sled that I steer

I go off with my dogs of ten.

Oh, I hope I can hear

The Wolves’ Song again.

Wolves | Jessica Flory

Wilderness masters are going
Off to sing their
Lullaby to the
Vast
Emptiness of their
Serene home.

The Night Sky | Jessica Flory

Laying on my back,
gazing at the diamond filled
sky, I dread morning.

Emotional Wreck | Jessica Flory

The “disappearing road,” as most called it, was a trail of asphalt that ascended to what seemed like Mount Everest, then immediately dropped. Teenagers who wanted to take to the air rocketed up the trail, and then flew when they reached this peak in the road. It was located a good twenty minutes away from my home; therefore, I had never experienced the airborne sensation. Nathan, who was a friend of mine, had traveled on it many times, and had just finished telling me of previous exploits on the “disappearing road” when he and other certain people were sent home from work. Disappointment hit my stomach like a car that had just hit the asphalt as I watched him and others leave.

I knew where he was going. The party invitation had been extended to everyone, but I was still at work and could not attend. This Halloween would be different from previous years. This Halloween I would not be trick-or-treating with my friends or even sitting in the church parking lot with my mother helping hand out candy to young trunk-or-treaters. No, this Halloween I would be trapped inside a fast food restaurant taking orders, putting them together, and handing out treats to those who were silly enough to come trick-or-treating through the drive-thru.

Children whom I knew came through with their parents in hopes of receiving a special treat. I handed them their prizes throughout the night and watched them drive away, as they licked their cones and laughed over their performance.

Customers stopped coming and the bell finally rang for the place to close. Tired workers cleaned, filled, and put things in their proper place. I finally stepped out into the night air, which stung my nose with every breath inhaled. Despite the fact that I was now living a grown-up version of Halloween, tomorrow was a new day and I most likely would never think of my Halloween disappointment ever again. I walked silently through the chill of night toward my vehicle, but turned when my name was called.

The two figures moving toward me expressed the fact that they needed rides to certain destinations, one of which was home. One of them, however, wanted to see if the Halloween party was still going on. That would be fun. However, my home was another twenty minutes away. The delay of my return home would be unacceptable even with a phone call to my parents.

I dropped my friend off at the party and watched her tread across the lawn toward the house. Cars were pulling away and I wondered whether I should wait to take her home. After watching her enter the house, I pulled away and continued my task in taking the other individual home, paying no mind to a car that pulled out right behind me.

Smashed pumpkins littered parts of the street. A strange sadness swept through me and I desperately wanted to go back to the house and party like everyone else. Nathan would possibly still be there, and we could talk some more.

I suddenly disliked very much the boy with whom I was driving. An odd bitterness surpassed the melancholy feeling. Perhaps if he had not asked me to take him home, I could have gone to the party like everybody else. However, these feelings were locked deep in the recesses of my heart, and they knew better than to come to the surface. The boy instructed me to turn right onto the next street, and I did so. The boy thanked me for the ride as we pulled up to his house, and exited my pathetic looking van. I wrenched the car into drive.

I eased the car forward a bit, but a familiar sight out of the corner of my eye caused me to stop. Nathan smiled and waved at me from his car. My heart leaped into my throat, and I could not help but grin and excitedly wave back. He pulled in front of me as I threw the car back into park. Nathan jogged back to my car, and I opened the door and smiled. I wanted to tell him how excited I was that he had found me, but he spoke first, asking me if I wanted to go on a ride with him. “I could take you on that road I was telling you about,” he suggested.

Instantly, worry swelled in my throat. My parents told me not to be alone with him anymore. I ignored feelings of unease and concern and smiled once again. Nodding, my brain worked vigorously to devise some sort of plan. If it was around ten o’ clock, I would make sure that the ride would not last more than half an hour, and I would easily be home by eleven o’ clock. Eleven might be pushing it, though. But I can just tell my parents that work got out late.

I followed Nathan to his home where I would leave my car while we went on the ride. As much as I tried to erase the guilty and troubled feelings, they kept penciling themselves onto the paper of my mind. Something might happen. Remember what my parents told me… remember what my parents told me…

Nathan and I talked, and that seemed to calm me down, but not completely. There was still an urging that engraved the words obedience and disobedience into my brain. I found it hard to have a normal conversation with one of my closest friends because these words and feelings would not let me be.

The Pirates of the Caribbean soundtrack that Nathan had turned on seemed to create the perfect background music as we pulled into a gravel parking lot; it was calm, yet eerie. Just as we shot from the parking lot, however, the music heightened and became the backdrop for a completely different scene. Something was about to happen. As the music became faster and louder, the car picked up speed traveling down the mountain.

We were going too fast. It finally hit me as the side of the hill came closer… closer… and even more so… and I knew that the peak of the “disappearing road” would no longer be the exciting or frightening part of the drive. Nathan turned the wheel and hit the brakes to make the turn, but the loose gravel prevented the car from doing so. As the little car ran up onto the hillside, everything seemed to happen in slow motion, although it was blurred. I squeezed my eyes shut and braced myself as the car started to flip. A sharp sudden pain made me realize that my hand had found its way out the broken window and was being crushed by the car. I yanked my hands close to my body and formed a fist under my chin to avoid any more injury. The car finally came to rest on its roof and Nathan and I hung from our seatbelts.

The music had stopped. The air was quiet. Even the chirping crickets had been frightened into silence. Nathan finally spoke. “Are you okay?”

I muttered a silent, “Uh huh,” but that was not enough to satisfy him.

“No! Are you okay?”

I muttered again, as firmly as I could at the time, that I was fine. Silence rested upon us. We were left alone, each one to his or her own thoughts. The thought of how I would usually love to have a story to tell people at school instantly came to my mind. As much as I loved storytelling, and as much as I loved being the center of attention with a story, I wished with all my heart that this incident had been a dream. Unfortunately, I knew that it was not. My parents are going to kill me. This thought weighed most heavy on my mind.

“Can you get out?” I finally asked. I tried to unbuckle myself, but my weight had jammed the belt. I pushed on the ceiling of the car to relieve the pressure, and my head soon came into immediate contact with the ceiling. I then tried to get out through the shattered window. Fear struck me as I realized that I could not manage it.

No, Jessica, I thought to myself. You must get out. You may have to hurt yourself or get yourself dirty, but you must get out. Scraping my body against the pieces of shattered glass and gravel, I finally managed to crawl out of the car, meeting Nathan as I stood up. I tried to retain my cheerful self, but to no avail. I was shaking—not from cold but rather from shock—and realized that even without a coat the chilly October air was rather warm.

A man’s voice was heard and the bouncing orb of a flashlight could be seen moving toward us. Nathan expressed the fact that everyone was fine and that we were just shaken up a bit.

After calling Nathan’s father, the man was going to let us have our wish by staying outside and waiting for him to come, but the flashlight beam soon fell onto my blood soaked hand. Nathan gasped, and the man seized my arm and led me to his home. Embarrassment almost overtook my shock and guilt, but as I was seated, I realized that guilt would exceed all feelings that I would ever consider.

What had I done? What had moved me to do something that resulted in this? I was not the kind of person to lie to my parents and deliberately disobey them; and yet, that is exactly what I had done. Surprisingly, I was not afraid to face my parents and tell them the story, for nothing could make me feel worse than I did at that moment. They would be angry, yes, but I had tortured myself enough. What kind of person have I become? Why did I ignore the feelings and urges I felt before? Tears flooded down my cheeks. I had known that what I was doing was wrong, but the influence of a boy had driven me to do otherwise.

Regret and remorse can be terribly painful things. They can, however, be used in humbling oneself. I would not wish the feelings of remorse upon anyone, but the humbling influence upon the soul was something I was appreciative to have. Despite my feelings of guilt and shame, the accident would forever be impressed upon my mind as an adventure.

Boy Story | Jessica Flory

Prologue

The opposite sex has a very definite effect on any girl. Liz first noticed, when she began the sixth grade, how much some of the boys started paying particular attention to her. It started out as something nice the boys would say, and then she began to realize that she could actually make friends with some of them. Of course, she had had friends in her younger years that had been males, but those had been the friends of her younger brother, and she would feel very special anytime it was “just her and the guys”. But back then that “specialness” was felt by Liz in knowing that she was what people called a “tomboy”, and she wanted it to stay that way.

Sixth grade changed things in a manner where Liz could say that none of the boys that she now called her friends even knew her younger brother. It seemed like a miraculous happenstance that something such as this could even be possible.

A small event that would live for some time in the young sixth grader's mind happened toward the end of school when the entire middle school gathered at the track to have Field Day. Liz felt a sort of importance to her name when she was asked to pass information to the “captain” of their four-by-one relay, Bret. Together, they walked across the track, heads tilted towards one another so as to hear the other speak. At this point in time, the young girl didn't think about this relationship in any way more intimate than a friendship. But, to be friends like this with a boy! How exciting this was for her! She was just made a bit more excited by this new experience to find out that Bret showed at least a bit of “like” towards her. Having their heads tilted that close together and actually walking shoulder to shoulder had to mean something!

When seventh grade rolled around, that intimacy with Bret faded and the sixth grade friendship died. Liz, being the young, carefree girl that she was, let it pass with a smile and went on with her seventh grade life in the new school that had just been built. That is until she was assigned a seat in English class next to Parker.

His physical appearance wouldn't make a girl stop and turn around, but with the naivety—or the lack of concern—in something such as outward characteristics, Liz simply was attracted to him because he talked to her first.

The concept of “going out” was, for some reason, shunned by Liz. Even in her older years she would never understand why this was not on her “List of Values”. However, she believed that she liked Parker, and there was always the hope that he liked her back, for he talked to her first and continued to do so. Since “going out” didn't even come to Liz's head, she devised in her little mind a way to keep their friendship close by writing notes to one another. However, rumor had spread that Parker was “going out” with a girl by the name of Dynna. Liz wasn't crushed by this, but her high hopes of Parker liking her plummeted and never cared to rise again, although she still remained friends with him.

Perhaps this was the start of what Liz began to call, “The Ultimate”. The seventh grader began to explain this word in terms of “number one” or “being at the top of the list or totem pole”. Although the boy that she “liked” may have had a girlfriend, Liz believed that if she was someone the boy could talk to and if she remained friends with him, she was still “The Ultimate” and he liked her above all. But just as a friend, of course.

When ninth grade came, Liz had painlessly come to find out that she was not a girl who could turn a boy's head or even one that a boy would call “hot”. Since she knew nothing of being on any boy's “hot list”, not being on that list was pain-free. She was just Liz. And being just Liz was spectacular.

Now, dear reader, do not think that Liz's whole life revolved around the opposite sex. From sixth grade to ninth grade, of course she thought of boys. But very little, mind you. What girl didn't? She was caught up in her school work, her church activities, her friends, her family, her life! Boys were friends for Liz, and the thought of liking them more than that was a hideous one.

But, if this story was about a tomboy who never reached a mature stage in her life, what an irksome one it would be! We all read about those kind of girls, and they do eventually find out that they have a feeling of like for some figure of the other gender. However, this story is not exactly about falling in love and getting a first, high school kiss either. The objective of this story is to perhaps bring one to an understanding of standards and values that a certain girl had.

The Prank | Jessica Flory

Act I

Scene 1
(A High school hall is full of students going to classes. The bell rings and the hall empties except for one or two stragglers. Entering from a door stage right is a TEACHER and ETHAN, who is receiving the new student orientation. ETHAN is barely listening, but suddenly notices that he is walking alone. He turns to look back. The TEACHER has come to an abrupt halt and is listening intently to the radio in her hand.)

TEACHER

I'll be back in a moment. You're welcome to look around if you want. Just make sure you stay in this general area. (UNDER BREATH) Stupid teenagers... I can't believe they would do that to the bathroom. The bathroom of all places!

(Exit TEACHER stage right. ETHAN begins to wander through the hall, looking at the bulletins on the walls and such. Enter ANDREA stage left, who drops her books. She bends to pick them up, and ETHAN rushes over to help her. He notices that her eyes are red from crying.)

ANDREA

You can go; you're late for class already.

ETHAN

Nah… I don’t have a class, and the teacher who was escorting me just abandoned me, anyway.

ANDREA

Are you in trouble too?

ETHAN

No. No, I was getting the student orientation. I'm new.

ANDREA

Why did the teacher leave you?

ETHAN

I think it had something to do with teenagers and bathrooms.

ANDREA

(Stares at ETHAN for a moment, and then goes into a fit of sobs)

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

ETHAN

Are you okay? What's wrong?

ANDREA

I can't believe I was talked into that!

ETHAN

What? You flooded the bathroom?

ANDREA

I didn't want anything to do with it, I swear! It was Tommy's fault. He was behind the whole thing. He thought it was so funny, but... oh, I'm becoming like my brother! What if I get suspended? Oh, no! I can't get suspended!

ETHAN

Why would they suspend you for flooding a bathroom?

ANDREA

I didn’t just flood a bathroom.

(The door to the DETENTION room suddenly opens and TOMMY stands in the doorway.)

TOMMY

Gosh, Andrea, we can hear you sobbing from in here. What’s up?

ANDREA

Yeah, don't pretend you don't know, Tommy. Because of you, I might get suspended!

TOMMY

What are you talking about? Oh, you're talking about the bathroom incident!

(He laughs and turns to ETHAN and hits him on the shoulder)

'Twas the best prank ever, my friend. The best ever!

(He realizes he's never seen ETHAN before).

Who are you?

ETHAN

I'm Ethan. I just moved here.

TOMMY

Sweet! C'mon, Andrea. You can get some studying done while you await your sentence.

Scene 2

(TOMMY, ETHAN, and ANDREA enter the DETENTION room, carrying the books. A TEACHER asleep at the desk in the front of the room, with his head down, and eight STUDENTS occupy it. In the back of the room, ASHLEY and KYLIE sit listening to music on an iPod that is between them. KYLIE is holding two pencils and banging them to the beat of the music like drumsticks. Near the window, STEVE is sitting with a pad and pencil in his hand, drawing furiously. Around him there are crumpled pieces of paper that he has been tossing over his shoulder when he doesn't like what he draws. Near him is a box that is full of various art utensils. On the right side of him is MEGAN, who has thick glasses on her face, making her look like a bug. She is busily typing on a laptop in front of her. ETHAN sets the books on the desk that ANDREA sat down at, and TOMMY sits at a desk next to her and somehow pulls a bag of potato chips out of his pocket. Numerous chip bags litter the floor. ETHAN suddenly spots ERIC, who looks too young to be in high school. He has a pencil resting behind his ear and a back-up pencil in his rear pocket.)

ERIC

(notices ETHAN, just as ALL of the other students do, but rushes over first and grabs ETHAN'S hand to shake it.)

What are you doing here, man? Detention on your first day, huh?

TOMMY

You know this kid?

ERIC

Of course I do! Guys, this is Ethan; he is visiting my family. Ethan, this is Tommy. The one in the corner is Andrea.

(ERIC drags ETHAN across the room and introduces him to STEVE, MEGAN, ASHLEY, and KYLIE.)

ETHAN

Hey, everyone. What exactly are you doing in detention?

TOMMY

Oh, what a story to tell! It was the most wonderful prank in the world, my friend!

ANDREA

No, it wasn’t

TOMMY

Yes it was. Here’s how is started: It was the dead of night, with no creature in the building, not even a mouse…

ASHLEY

Oh, stop exaggerating, Tommy. It was during our free period. Not at night. And stop trying to re-tell a Christmas story.

TOMMY

Okay, okay. So, as I was saying, it was during our free period, when no one was about. There we were, eight of us, sneaking down the hall, following Steve's detailed instructions. Each of us had a small bucket of dynamite...

MEGAN

Will you stop it? It was not dynamite.

TOMMY

Okay, whatever! It wasn’t dynamite. It was dry ice, but from the way it exploded in the toilets, it sure acted like dynamite.

(ANDREA STARTS SOBBING AGAIN.)

TOMMY

Andrea, it wasn’t that bad.

ANDREA

Oh, yes it was!

ASHLEY

The boys headed toward the boys' bathroom, and the girls went straight to the girls' bathroom.

TOMMY

Our explosion was fantastic! We turned on the hot water in the sinks and when that was done filling, we broke a piece of dry ice off and placed it in the sink. The thing started bubbling immediately! We also placed some pieces in the toilets. When we were through, boy, you couldn’t see two feet in front of you!

ANDREA

It wasn’t funny. Especially when the toilet automatically flushed on me, and blew up. The pieces went all over the place, and I wasn't fairing very well either.

TOMMY

Yeah, and after that, a teacher came to see what happened, and as she looked down the hall, she caught us just as we were escaping from the crime scene. It was a sad day, but it felt, oh, so good.

ETHAN

Wow... it sounds like you've got quite an imagination to cook up something like that. And you actually go through with it. Wow...

TOMMY

You have no idea, little buddy.

(Enter the TEACHER who had been giving ETHAN the orientation. The TEACHER who is sitting at the desk gives a grunt and wakes up.)

TEACHER

(glares at the teacher for falling asleep, grabs ETHAN, and hurries him out of the room.)

There you are! Come now, we are way behind schedule!

Lake Exercise | Jessica Flory

The placidity of the lake seemed to mock him as he sat on the bank with his knees pulled to his chest. Small ripples pushed against the embankment, as if nudging him, and saying, “We're happy. Why aren't you?” The tiny ripples would then dance slowly and effortlessly toward the middle of the lake where they would wave at him like a child on a playground. The man sighed and rested his head on his knees.

The gentle breeze that whispered by assumed the act of a motherly hug, but it's efforts fell, disregarded. The light current seemed to sense this and continued past the man to play with the grass. Hisses of laughter from the weeds and grass that grew alongside the embankment hit the man's ears with a force that caused him to stand and sink his hands deep into his empty pockets.

After a time, the man began to dig absentmindedly in the dirt with the toe of his shoe, bringing loose rocks to the surface. Their blank faces stared back, for they knew that they could do nothing about being forced from their home, but they hated it just the same.

The man looked around again. Every part of nature had some other element to care for it. For the rocks it was the soil; for the trees and grass it was the lake. The lake. The provider for all that was beautiful here. If the temperatures were to rise and the lake were to dry up, the creations living about would perish and all would become gray and ugly.

So be it, the man thought bitterly. He then turned slowly from the tranquility of the scene, from what he used to know, and walked away, the thought of many scorching days ahead weighing heavily on his mind.

Burning Barn Exercise | Jessica Flory

A young woman stared into the wild flame ascending from the burning barn, not knowing whether the sweat on her face was from the heat of the fire or from the heat of emotion. Was it her feelings or the flame that made her face so hot? Yet, despite the flame that leaped from the barn into a cloud of black smoke, she shivered. Chills of excitement continued to pulse up and down her spine, creating little lifts in her lips as she finally allowed her excited mind to recall the events of the cool evening.

The burning barn groaned in weariness and sat a little lower upon the earth. The sudden shift of the building emitted a rather large burst of heat, which brought the young woman back to the present and made her heart crash against her chest. The same feelings she was feeling here had been felt only a few moments ago. The same beads of sweat that sat on her brow were the same that had sat there only minutes before. And her heart crashed against her chest as it had done not long before the fire.

The fire. The fire was inside of her, it consumed her. The burning barn was not the source of her perspiration, nor was the quickness of her heart the result of people rushing to put the fire out. The fire would never be quenched. It would forever burn inside of her, yet she would feel no pain. Only until she let her guard down would she be burned.

Translation of 1st Nephi | Jessica Flory

This script is based on something that actually happened and that I thought was very humorous. It needs a ton of work, but I thought I'd put it up here anyway.

SET IN A SMALL APARTMENT THAT HOLDS A COUCH AGAINST RIGHT WALL OF LIVING ROOM, WHICH SERVES AS THE KITCHEN COUNTER. FOUR BARSTOOLS ARE BEHIND THE KITCHEN COUNTER. A SMALL ENTERTAINMENT CENTER HOLDS A T.V. AND SITS IN THE LEFT CORNER OF THE LIVING ROOM. THE KITCHEN HAS A SINK ON THE BACK WALL ON THE RIGHT AND A REFRIDGERATOR ON THE FAR RIGHT SIDE. CUPBOARDS ARE PLACED ALONG THE WALL AND A DISHWASHER IS SITTING UNDER THE SINK AND TO THE LEFT. THE DOOR LEADING FROM THE APARTMENT IS ON THE FAR LEFT. CHRIS STANDS IN THE KITCHEN. CAMERON AND CYNTHIA SIT ON THE COUCH, LOOKING AT A BOOK TOGETHER. TYLER SITS ON A BARSTOOL IN THE KITCHEN.

CYNTHIA

You think that'll work for Monday?

CAMERON

Yeah, we'll be fine. I think this was a great idea.

CYNTHIA

(SHE CLOSES THE BOOK)

Me too. It will get the group involved and actually teach them something rather than just playing a game.

CAMERON

(HAS BEEN LOOKING AT THE COVER OF THE BOOK INTENTLY. THE BOOK HAS A PAINTING OF THE LIAHONA ON IT WITH A CANDLE BURNING NEXT TO IT.)

That's a cool painting. It has the Liahona and everything.

TYLER

I've never seen a Liahona before.

CYNTHIA

(TURNS THE BOOK TOWRDS TYLER. THIS SCENE IS MEANT TO BE A VERY LIVELY SCENE WITH LAUGHTER OR CHUCKLES AFTER EVERY COMMENT.)

Yeah, this is an actual photograph of the Liahona too. In that actual time period. When Lehi sent his sons back to Jerusalem, it was really to get their pictures developed at the Wal-Mart in that area.

CHRIS

Unfortunately, Laban owned the Wal-Mart and had an “All Services Here” part of the store. They had to go there to get their camels tuned up.

CAMERON

You know how you have to imitate the sounds that your car makes when it's dying? Imagine what it would be like if they had to do the same with their camels.

(IMITATES SOUND OF DYING CAMEL. ALL LAUGH.)

CYNTHIA

Laban was always complaining, “I left my Photoshop in the camelback.”

CHRIS

And the Brass Plates were really the negatives.

CYNTHIA

Or their photo album that they had to steal from Laban. That's the real reason why Sariah was so angry. She couldn't do her scrapbooking.

CHRIS

(IMITATING A WOMAN'S VOICE WITH A CHUCKLE)

I know you're a visionary man! I can't put that on paper!

TYLER

Wow, you guys are weird.

CAMERON

Hey, Chris, can you do 2^nd Nephi for me?

CHRIS

Oh, yeah right. Those Isaiah chapters would kill me. They were probably just pictures once Nephi and his brothers got a hold of them. So, Isaiah and Picasso understood each other; Isaiah just drew pictures.

CYNTHIA

(PRETENDS TO DRAW AND LOOK BACK AND FORTH FROM SOMETHING SHE'S DRAWING)

Nephi's like, “Yeah, this is what he meant.”

CHRIS

(ALL IS SILENT FOR A MOMENT UNTIL CHRIS CHUCKLES)

Come to me next time and I'll have Lehi's dream all translated for you. It's really about genealogy; the family tree of life.

LAUGHTER DIES DOWN AND EVERYONE IS SILENT FOR A MOMENT. PERHAPS A CHUCKLE OF REMEMBRANCE NOW AND THEN. BUT SOON ALL IS SILENT.

TYLER

(AFTER A PAUSE)

Did you guys here about the man who almost shot himself because of debt? He sat on the edge of a cliff with a 44 Magnum in his mouth.

CHRIS

(TRYING TO GET LAUGHTER AGAIN)

It wasn't me, by the way.

TYLER

No, it wasn't you. You would'a missed.

LAUGHTER ERUPTS ONCE MORE IN THE ROOM

CAMERON

(GETS UP FROM THE COUCH AND HELPS CYNTHIA TO HER FEET)

Well, I'd probably better take you home. You have a big test tomorrow, don't you?

CYNTHIA AND CAMERON EXIT THROUGH THE DOOR WHILE SAYING GOOD BYE TO ALL.

TYLER

(SHOUTS AFTER THEM)

Don't be too long standing on the front porch. You never know what could happen!

CHRIS

Whatever, Tyler. She won't even let him kiss her. I don't think much is going to happen. Heaven forbid their hug should be an uncomfortably long one.

From the Diary of a U.S. Soldier | Jessica Flory

“17 October:

“Today was so hot and I was unbearably tired and needed sleep so badly! I was nodding off every five seconds. I just wanted to die. On top of that, there was the lieutenant doing his “bored thing”. Every time this guy gets bored, he thinks up some new rule to make us more irritated and uncomfortable. Today I was about to fight someone and I did not care who. I just had the desire to smash someone's head in.”

Matthew Harrison read over what he had written, clicked his pen into useless mode, and closed his journal. He leaned his head against the wall of the barracks and closed his eyes. The smell of the desert in Iraq singed his nose hairs, but he took a deep breath, which made his eyes sting and start to water. He let the drops of salt water fall from his eyes and course evenly down his cheeks.

Suddenly, the smell of a campfire filled his nostrils. The temperature had fallen, which, mixed with the smell of the campfire, made it perfectly cool outside. He continued to sit, his head against the barracks' wall, not wanting to open his eyes for fear it would disappear. Sweet memories flooded his mind. The prospects of holidays and snow, family and Christmas were kindled within his heart, and it filled him with intoxicating joy.

###

The tower was a long way from anywhere, but at the same time it was too close for the kind of privacy he wanted at this moment. He took a last glance toward the base, but knew that nobody would really be watching him. Nobody cared. Nobody cared that Matthew Harrison was on the other side of the planet, sitting under a jentacular sun that his tower roof did not supply shade for yet. He was alone.

Slowly, he pulled from within his jacket the seventh book of the Harry Potter series. He laughed at himself for reading such nonsense, but found this book to be an escape from his surroundings, from his life. He opened to the eleventh chapter of the book and began to read.

Not long into the reading of his new-found life, a voice that sent blood chilling sensations up and down his spine barked at him. He knew, as soon as the sound reached his ears, that he was in for the worst treatment of his life. Dread crawled down to the pit of his stomach. He could feel the color drain from his face and his whole body went limp and heavy. Terror began to play with his gag reflexes.

“Harrison! What do you think you're doing?” Sergeant Hayes was livid and began using more than his usual profane vocabulary to cuss Matthew out.

Physical pain did not cross Matthew's mind at this moment. He could handle what came in that sense. However, it was the words that brought Matthew to a sense of pure hatred toward his team leader.

“...Article 15!” Hayes was angrily yelling, “And you know what that means, Harrison.”

Yes, Matthew knew. Article 15 meant a reduction in rank and no pay for the month. The fire in Matthew's bowels burned higher and brighter, turning his face a deep shade of angry red.

###

“23 October:

“I hate my life. I can barely get through a day with a headphone in and a book at the shack. Now those things are being taken away too. I hate my team leader. It seems to me that the more I vent the better it gets. But the part that burns me up the most is the prospect of having to deal with the same stuff for seven more months. I think I would rather die. It is going to be nothing short of a miracle from God that will keep me sane and allow me to finish this tour. All this stress has helped me develop a nasty habit of swearing. I hate it and I wish that I felt that there was some other release. I have nowhere to go. I just get weaker and more and more angry. I pray to God that I don't kill somebody or go insane. I hope God has mercy on me and I hope He will understand why I am acting this way. I hope I can find the light. God help me.”

Matthew tucked his journal and pen under his bunk and made his way to the tower. Once there, he would sit and try to force his mind elsewhere without the help of books or music. Wishful thinking, Matthew thought bitterly, for he knew that without the aid of escape routes, his mind would never leave Camp Bucca. Hopelessly, he lowered himself onto the floor of the tower, leaned against the wall, and looked out over the vast stretch of pavement-like sand.

Footsteps could soon be heard coming up the stairs of the tower. Matthew gave no heed, and he continued to stare into the desert. Someone sat across from him, but he gave no sign of acknowledgment until the man spoke. The nervousness in his voice made it almost inaudible, but it forced the two men to catch the others' eye.

“H-Harrison, I'm Charlie Fullmer. I was told to come watch with you.”

“Welcome,” Matthew said sarcastically, “to my Tower of Terror.”

Matthew jumped when Charlie laughed out loud. The young man even slapped his knee, which produced a more humorous effect. Much to Matthew's surprise, his own lips curved into a smile barely noticeable as Charlie continued in his guffaw.

“That was a good one!” Charlie said, once he could breathe again. “Have you ever been there? To the Tower of Terror?”

“Nope. Just heard of it.”

“Ah, it's an amazing place, it is. I went there when I was small, but it scared the pants offa me, so I ain't forgotten it.”

In the silence that followed, Matthew offered a small grunt of a laugh. This seemed to be a welcome invite for Charlie because he began talking yet again.

“So, Sergeant Hayes busted you for headphones, huh? I tell ya', you gotta be careful in this business. They'll getcha when you least expect it...”

Matthew's anger forced him to tune out immediately. Thoughts of days past and encounters with officers of higher rank swept through his already bitter mind. He could feel the anger compressing in his chest and in his head. The angry animal within him lashed out at his insides, which produced a terrible stomach ache.

He didn't know how long Charlie babbled on, but he was very grateful when Sergeant Loria appeared and ordered the boy elsewhere. All was silent once again, but this didn't help the surge of emotions that were now running at full speed through Matthew's body. He wanted to escape, he wanted to forget, and be released from this terrible nightmare he was having. But waking up wouldn't be a solution in this situation. Every day he woke up brought new frustrations and a newborn hatred for everyone and everything around him. No, waking up only made this nightmare worse.

More footsteps brought Matthew back to the tower. This time, he looked up to see who had disturbed his angry intellection. The man who was standing there was sure to place these bitter recollections into another present reality. Sergeant Hayes wasn't going to make this moment any better.

###

“25 October:

“Hayes showed up at the tower yesterday and we ended up talking for an hour and forty-five minutes. He sat down and went over everything. He laid out the big picture and actually showed me that he cares. That was an unusual thing coming from an NCO.

“I had some distinct impressions as he talked with me. The most powerful is thus: My attitude has been really terrible. I mean, I have had so much resentment that I am amazed that I have made it as long as I have. My attitude is changing. I need to stop listening to talks or music on tape and I need to stop reading books at the CCT shack, and just deal with what I have been dealt. There are definitely some behaviors that needed to be changed and philosophies that needed to grow up. I want to be a man of stature, someone you can look up to. Camp Bucca is going to be the place where I learn what it takes to become a man. This gives great meaning to my experiences and the sacrifices that are to be made. I will soon be able to call myself a man. I think that I am beginning to know what that means now.

“I am so thankful to God to have given me these pieces of knowledge that have enabled me to see through the mists of darkness that are about me. I have been given enough light to penetrate the darkness and see my way through.”

After reading through his entry once more, he shut his journal and pushed it beneath his bed. Laying there in the dark, staring into space, he let the thoughts of the day rush through his head. No longer was the angry animal slashing at his gut, trying to get out, and no longer did his bitterness constrict his breathing. The animal within lay silent, comfortable, and he felt as if he would burst. Not because of anger, but because of the thrill of his initial discoveries and successes.