NaPoWriMo

April is National Poetry Writing Month. In my creative writing class, we will be writing a poem everyday for the entirety of April. This blog will be focused on poetry and I will try to post everyday for NaPoWriMo. Happy Poetry Month!

Recovery Road

Two weeks ago, I posted a flash fiction post. This is the novel excerpt of that post. The plot of the whole story is a girl’s mom and little sister die in a car crash. Throughout the story, she deals with her inner self, the relationships around her and mostly survivors guilt. She meets Tyler at a group therapy session who has gone through a similar scenario. Together, they help each other cope and become closer then just friends.

February 6

It’s just a normal summer day. My mom, sister and I are driving down highway I-80. I’m sitting in the passenger seat of our red jeep. My mom drives, lecturing me.

“Lydia, it’s summer but I won’t let you slack off and do nothing! Next year you’ll be a senior, then off to college and you’ll need money! So get a job. Working is a great experience…..” I drown her out, earbuds in my ears, volume going up. I close my eyes, envisioning the song. Billie Eilish’s ‘Bury a Friend’ blocks out my surroundings until I hear the squeal of tires. I smell burning rubber. I open my eyes wide. Glass rains down, and I jolt forwards and I see darkness and I’m falling. Falling, falling down.

June 6

Four months ago, I lost two very important people in my life. My nine year old sister, Haley and my mom, Adeline. My life wasn’t supposed to end like this. Metaphorically speaking of course since I’m not the one buried six feet under. Now, I’m surrounded by people I don’ want to be near. I’m forced to listen to stories I don’t want to hear. Love and loss. It’s like Shakespeare wrote out my life. The walls enclosing this group therapy session stare at me.

I look up at the clock. Five more minutes till we start. I don’t talk in these “meetings”. People don’t need to know my business. Maybe one day I’ll share, but so far, it’s been the same thing, every time.

“Lydia, would you like to share?” Brent (the group therapist and my personal therapist) asks.

“No,” I reply. He always nods and is always so nice. He understands.

Three minutes. Then, one hour of talking and I’m free to go. I look around the room and see a few new faces mixed in with the familiar ones. I put my long, blonde hair up, trying to make the time go by faster. I hear the door open and I turn in that direction. The guy that walks in sits across from me. My attention is all on him. He looks right into my green eyes. I stare back into his icy light blue ones. I’m the first to glance away.

“Alright. It’s 11:00. Who would like to start?” Brent asks.

At first, no one says anything or moves. “I’ll go,” the guy says. I feel his gaze burning into me and I can’t help but look up at him.

“Great! Say your name since your new, why you’re here and how the situation has affected you!” Brent says.

“I’m Tyler Harding. My dad and older brother died in a plane crash two months ago. I’m here because my mother forced me to be,” He pauses and you drop your eyes to his grey hoodie. “My mom and I always fight. My friends call me moody and all but three of them don’t talk to me.”

Tyler and I stare, eyes challenging each other. My mouth speaks before I can comprehend what I’m doing.

“My mom and baby sister died in a car crash four months ago.” I stop and look up at the clock. I feel not one, but multiple stares. I look at Brent who radiates shock, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. I spoke. I said what happened and I’m almost as shocked as everyone else.

My eyes once again, meet Tyler’s, who already is watching me. His face softens and he gives me a small smile. I smile back, the corners of my lips slightly turning up. Time to wait for fifty minutes to pass.

https://www.flickr.com/photos/islandis/9159813213

Expeditus

The forest I’m in had no fire. No smoke signals, no ‘help’ or ‘SOS’ spelled out. I don’t need any of these. I do not want to be found.

The breeze makes the leaves quiver. Each day I explore. Some days I take my dog. Some days I make camp. Others I don’t go too astray from the shelter I call home. Living among the wild animals and trees is freedom. No one can stop me. No one will find me for I do not want to be found.

I’ve seen animals of all colors and species. Brown bear, black bear, grey wolf, red fox…. The list goes on. The few occasions I turn my portable radio on, I hear my name. Missing person they say. I’m not missing. I ran. I know exactly where I am. I’m in the midst of a forest, nature on every side. They say, “…still missing….” because I do not want to be found.

Recovery Road

In my creative writing class, we are doing 6 word, 2 sentence, or 50 word flash fiction pieces. We make one and eventually, will develop it into a short story. This is my 50 word flash fiction!

It was just a normal day. Driving down the highway in the passenger seat of our red jeep. My mom drives, lecturing me. Earbuds in; drowning her out. Normal teenager stuff. Then, it happened so fast. Glass rains down on me. I see darkness and I’m falling. Falling, falling down.

The Walk Through Chaos

The clock strikes. The red numbers change. It’s that time again. Time to take a walk. A walk to your next class. With your backpack, heavy with hours of long work slung over your shoulders, you brace yourself and walk. Left, right, left, right.

Look there! Wait, no! Avert your eyes. You don’t need to see that. Focus on that black backpack, dark as the night. You march across the school, people running by you while you walk down the chaotic halls. Crowds of kids stand right in the middle of the hallway, chattering away like birds. Your grip adjusts on the straps of your backpack, cringing at those boys in one huddle, popping off disdainful comments left and right.

Everywhere you look, students are bumping into each other. Looks of boredom are plastered across many faces. Seniors block the doorways as they crowd the sacred bench they’ve all waited for. Past the hall of the Eagle’s Nest. You’re so close, you’re almost there. Thoughts swirl in your mind, lost to the outside conversations that permeate into your skull. Do you have a test today or tomorrow? Maybe it’s…..

He pushed you.

You contain your anger, boiling into fury. “Can’t they walk?!?!” your brain screams. It’s fine. Calm down. You’re so close. You count the yellowy tiles that makeup the floor, trampled by the soles of thousands of students. Then finally, safety. You take a seat in your hard metal chair. The four white walls decorated with brightly colored posters never felt more secure. But don’t worry! You still have three more months to go.

https://www.flickr.com/photos/sheila_sund/8370889743

Magnifying Glass

Look through the glass, 
What do you see?
On that flower,
Is a honey bee.
Look through the glass,
Use your eye,
Fluffy white clouds,                                                                                         
In the light blue sky.
Look through the glass, 
Under it this time,
Is a small snake,
With dark scales that shine.
Look through the glass, 
With the last beam of light,
Geese to the heavens,
Lost in flight.
Look through the glass, 
With wonder and bright,
But now through your window,
With stars in the night.

Book Review #1: The Hate U Give

The Hate U Give, written by Angie Thomas, is outstanding. Starr lives in a poor neighborhood called Garden Heights but goes to wealthy, prep school Williamson Prep. Starr has to keep the two “lives” shes lives separate and she does, until her childhood friend Khalil gets shot and killed by a police officer.

This book shows what it is like for both points of view. Thomas does a beautiful job of portraying them. If I had to recommend this book to anyone, I’d say teens and adults, due to the language, content and the social issues this story tackles. If you are looking for a book that you can’t put down, pick up The Hate U Give.