I Wanna Live In A Fantasy Book by Eliezer

Table of Contents Authors Foreword Nonfiction A Perfectly Normal Spring Day Extended Work of Fiction The King of Dwelmeharen Microfiction Freedom Twitter Fiction Billy’s Dream Freedom Puddle in the Sand No Way Down Formal Poetry Never Easy A Cut Cannot Heal I Hate Poetry A Wonderful Day Free Verse Castle on A Cliff The Subway

The Pear The Emptiness of the Snack Drawer Authors Note’s Freedom Castle on A Cliff The King Of Dwelmeharen A Perfectly Normal Spring Day Never Easy

Author’s Foreword One writing strategy that I learned this year in creative writing was to show, don’t tell. Show don’t tell is pretty much the process of showing what a character feels, does, who they are instead of telling. Another writing strategy that I learned this year that was sadly ineffective for me, was meter. Meter is the rhyming, and beat that makes poems flow and sound well. The third writing strategy I learned was dialogue. Using dialogue to advance a story, using it to drop a “plot bomb,” and learning how to punctuate it correctly. When I first started writing I did not trust that the reader was smart enough to understand exactly what I wanted the to. So I would tell the reader what I wanted them to see. I would tell them what was happening. Then in creative writing, we watched Andrew Stanton, the creator of WallE, who said that it is better to show the audience rather than tell them. So I looked at my approach, and started to show what I wanted the reader to know. It was hard for me at first. Every instinct in my body yelled “Tell them everything!” Once I started to ignore the voices I found that my writing began to get better and better. When we started poetry we learned about meter, and how it helped a poem flow and rhyme. Being a person who does not enjoy writing poetry, I went into the lesson not knowing much at all about the subject. I did not like poetry, and I know that I will not be writing it outside of class, so I meter was hard for me because I was not into poetry. As we started our section on fiction, we talked about dialogue. I have always had a problem with dialogue. I used it often, and it was usually boring, mispunctuated, and just terribly written. Mr. Hertzog taught us how to keep our dialogue interesting, and important. He taught us how to use it to use dialogue to drop twists in stories, and how to punctuate the dialogue correctly.

The hardest part of the course for me, was definitely poetry. I have never liked poetry. I still don’t. I know a lot more about it now, and I am better at it, but it is a bore. I like to write about dwarves, elves, zombies. Those aren’t things that poetry is supposed to be about. Most poetry is about sunshine and rainbows, BORING. That is why I don’t write poetry, it is boring, and bland.

NonFiction A Perfectly Normal Spring Day In Spring, my dad would have us outside all day. "It's a good day, go have fun. I'll call you for dinner." He would say as he shut the door on the three tired yet wide eyed faces that stared tiredly at him until they were staring at the cold, brown paint of the faux wood door. Then the three of us, my step brother Darren usually in jeans, no matter what the temperature, Michael, pale and tall, and I, would go three different ways to enjoy the day in our own way. We usually stayed on the driveway for a couple of hours, because the grass was still wet with the dew that fell in the earlier hours of the morning. Darren would go into the house quietly to take the matchbox cars, matches, and stash of illegal fireworks from his room to cause destruction in the driveway. Michael would shuffle onto the porch to crouch over the ant farm that he watched for hours, sometimes counting ants, and sometimes just admiring the workmanship. Me, I would get into the garage and saddle up my bike like I was a cowboy from an old west movie. As the years dragged on however, our routines changed with our age. I graduated to a dirt bike, along with my step brother, and Michael to taking pictures of us riding, before he too graduated to a four wheeler. One day, a few days after Michael received his new ATV, we were all riding in the corn field behind our house. I remember the day well, the clouds of dust left behind as I followed Darren as he double clutched through the corners, the sun shifting in the sky as we rode for hours and hours, it was one of our many brutal rides. Both on us, but also on our machines, another long day of red lining down the straights before riding the brakes into the corners, and landing hard on the suspension as we landed the jumps. At about 1:00 in the afternoon, my dad flagged me down as I came down the final straight of

our mock supercross track. When I turned off my bike, and coasted off the trail to see what he needed, he backed up a few steps and let me come to a stop. " I'm done mowing, and I'm going to go watch the Phillies game in the garage, so keep an eye on your brother, since he is still getting used to his four wheeler. " he said when I finally got my helmet off after a few moments of struggling with it. "Ok, I'll put my bike up on the corner and watch them." I said angrily because I couldn't ride anymore, but feeling overly responsible with the task that was given to me. I kicked my bike to a start, put my helmet on my head, and crawled up the hill in second gear before stopping at the top and parking my bike. I remember the sun in my face as I took my helmet off and wiped the sweat from my face with my grimy glove. As I sat on my bike watching my brothers ride I remember getting lost in my thoughts. I can't remember what I was thinking about, and I have spent years thinking that maybe if I would have paid attention maybe the worst moment of my life would not have happened. I distinctly remember a loud crash pulling me from my thoughts. When I looked around to see what it was I saw a scene that changed my life forever. Halfway down the hill my brothers red ATV was flipping back onto it's four wheels with a deafening crack, and my brothers limp body laying in a heap a few feet away. My first reaction, was an uncontrollable guttural scream of his name as I sprinted down the hill. Now I don’t know if it was my scream, or if he heard the Atv flip over, but my dad was on my heels all the way down the hill, and when we reached the bottom of the hill he wouldn't let me look at my brothers still body. When we arrived at the hospital, I had learned that my brother, and the one person I had shared everything with, from foster care to my deepest secret, had died in the ambulance. The next few hours were a blur of family and friends wishing their condolences, and crying so much that I was incapable of

crying anymore. When I arrived home at 3 Am the next morning, I remember laying in bed and realising that you are never too young to die, and that even though this was a horrible experience, I couldn’t have done anything to change it, and all I could do was cherish the time we shared, and live my life in a way that he would be proud of. I didn’t know it at the time, but looking back on it, in the months afterward I had matured so much that I was no longer the immature twelve year old that was selfish and mean, but the twelve year old that tried to make the best out of everything, and help everyone.

Extended Fiction The King of Dwelmeharen Ivan was a jolly man, normally. He was a big man, and usually had a smile on his face that ran from ear to ear. He had a roarious billowing laugh that would fill his hall with a noise like an avalanche. But today was different. The jolly ginger king that had a beard to his belly button had no smile today. His cheeks were not red from the consumption of his hand made dwarf ale, and there was no laughing. As he hurried down the corridor he murmured to himself, "No it can't be, not yet! Not now! He couldn't have broken the oath so soon, and just as my men were sent home for harvest!" As he passed through the halls of his palace, a small bald dwarf covered in tattoos stepped out of the shadows. He was a taller dwarf, with thick arms and a well built body, his arms and face were dotted with the scars from past battles, and his left eye socket was covered with an eye patch to keep infection out. He followed Ivan closely as they stepped through the doors and into the sunlight. "They have been outside for hours." The bald headed dwarf said. "They haven't done anything but stare at us Dwelmare. They are just trying to coax us into battle. And if it was up to you they would succeed. " Ivan shouted over the roar of a sudden and powerful wind. "Ivan, you have grown ignorant since your victory at Brommel. Has the thought crossed your mind that maybe they are just staring at us because they are waiting for something. I advise you to call in your forces. If they were here, we could have a battle ready army by tomorrow. " " I know I know. Alright. Send my courier to the house of every warrior in my kingdom: Be here tomorrow, or face death on the grounds of cowardice. " Ivan shouted knowing his men would hate him for cutting there well deserved holiday a month and a half short.

"What about us?” a small fair haired boy with a well built body and dark thunderous eyes spoke up from behind one of the three banners that sat on the perch that Ivan and Dwelmare were standing. “ What if they attack before our forces get here? Dad are we gonna die? I don’t want to die I want to live. ” the boy screamed as he worked himself into an uncontrollable fit of fear. “ Son nothing is going to happen now go back inside and train, one day the king will call on you like he is calling on his warriors today, and when that day comes you will need to be ready. So go train and let the king have some peace. He is very stressed at the moment.” Dwelmare said firmly in a soft voice that made the child feel loved. “But father...” The boy stammered before being cut off. “Welamere, now, or I will make you eat with the dogs tonight.” Dwelmare shouted at his son. “ Yes dad.” Welamere said as he shuffled away to the castle to continue his training. “Oh come now Dwelmare, the boy is scared, can’t you see? Let him come and here our talk, he will need to know if he is to be the next kings assistant.” Ivan said as he ushered the boy back to him. “Ohh yay!” the boy exclaimed as he ran back to the king who was waiting for him with open arms. The boy was just jumping into the kings arms as blood splattered the kings face, and the boys limp body landed in his hands, a long stick protruding out of his skull like a tree from the ground, and a razor sharp metal object slicing a shallow gash across the kings eye. “ Noooooo!” Dwelmare shouted as he took the limp, lifeless body of his son from his king, tears rolling down his face. “ You fiends, you know not what you did, you have just unleashed hell, and the demons within its bosom will fall over you like the waves of the Zhuf.” He yelled as he laid the

lifeless corpse of his son on the ground, as gently as if he was laying a baby down for a nap. After he laid his son on the ground at his feet, Dwelmare pulled his sword from its hilt, and ran it down the length of his palm. “I swear to the gods that the army who has taken my son from me will pay dearly, in men, in riches, and in the burning of their homes, each and every one of them will die!” “Dwelmare,” Ivan said in a kind but firm voice, “You will have your revenge, but you will wait until our army is battle ready. And you will wait for my signal to attack, do I make myself clear?” “Yes king.” Dwelmare seethed through clenched and grinding teeth, as he wrapped his hand in a torn off piece of his shirt. “I believe that we cannot wait for our army to arrive. Assemble my personal guard Dwelmare.” Ivan said as he held his eye and winced in pain as blood seeped through the cracks in his fingers. “Place them at the wall, and as soldiers arrive, feed them, then tell them to prepare for battle. All archers are to go straight to the wall, they will have food brought to them. If you or anyone else needs me, I will be bathing, and preparing for battle. Dwelmare I love you like a brother, and what happened today was terrible, but revenge can wait until the lives of the women and children of my realm are safe from the danger that is lurking outside this cities gates.” He said as he took a deep breath, turned and went inside still clutching his bleeding eye. As the sun set, and the beautiful shades of pink and red filled the sky, Ivans army arrived. Just a trickle at first, a few dozen men every hour, but that trickle quickly turned into a raging river as groups of hundreds arrived every couple of minutes. As Ivan stood in his chambers, which like the royal robe he now wore, was all purple. He watching as his army readied the defenses, and prepared for battle, he could not forgive himself. That little boy is dead, because of me! He thought to himself. I knew they

would try to kill me, I should have gone inside, but instead I let my anger get the best of me. Stupid, stu a knock on the door tore him from his thoughts. “ What do you want?” Ivan yelled as tore his wandering eyes away from the window. “It’s Dwelmare sir, may I come in?” the voice on the other side of the door yelled back.” “Oh good, come in, come in.” Ivan said as he rushed to the door and flung it open. As Dwelmare walked in, he closed the door behind him. “Your grace,” He began, “The men are ready, the defenses are prepared, and all are here. The archers are at their posts, and your guard will be back to you after they have eaten. Is there anything” He was cut off by a loud and rapid knocking on the door. As Dwelmare opened it, it creaked on it’s hinges, and a small man stood on the other side. He was dressed in all white armor is sword was out of it’s sheath, as he pulled the sword in his hand, the guard behind him fell to the ground with a crash. “Hello Ivan,” The short man stepped within the velvety room. “I see you acquired a taste for the expensive in your short time as king.” He said as he slowly motioned to the giant oil paintings on the wall. “None of these were here when I was king. I also see that you have grown fat and slow in your years of luxury. Maybe you should lose a few pounds.” He spat as he stepped into the light. He was small, maybe 5’6”, his all white armor gleamed in the torchlight of the room. His hands were gloved. He strode in circles around the room. “Marcus; How did you get in here? wh what do you want?” Ivan blubbered as he coward behind Dwelmare who’s sword was raised. “What, can’t a man come and visit his little brother?” Marcus chuckled as he slowly walked around the room, “ My, these pictures are nice,possibly one of a kind, sure would be a shame if they were ripped!” He cackled as he swung his sword at one of the

paintings, ripping it in half. “How did you get in here?” Ivan asked as he slowly backed into a corner. “Do you not remember playing in this castle as little kids? The sewers. Remember we found a way from the castle to the fields. It was our first adventure. I thought you would at least remember the times we had before you thought you were crazy.” Marcus spat at his brother as he remembered all the good time they had as kids. “I didn’t think you were crazy, that was father. I knew you were sane, but when father offered me the throne I had to take it.” Ivan said as he slowly crept out of the corner and closer to his brother. “I lifted your exile, and sent men to find you and bring you back, but they could not find you. I beg you brother, call off your army, come back, and be my counselor, I will give you land, and gold, and” He said before he was interrupted. “Do not think that your gold can buy me. I spent years trying to rebuild a life, and now that I have, I will take back my kingdom.” Marcus shouted as he gripped the hilt of his sword. “Were you the one who gave the order to fire that arrow?” Dwelmare asked as he stepped in front of Marcus,inturrupting his train of thought, “It is your army out there, they follow you.” Dwelmare accused. “That arrow, the one you meant for your brother, it killed my son, You killed my one and only son over a petty birthright.” Dwelmare shouted as tears streamed down his face. Dwelmare pulled his axe from it’s resting place on his back, and charged the white clad knight. As Dwelmare got within striking range, Marcus pulled the sword from it’s hilt, and in one fluid motion slashed at Dwelmare’s throat, stabbed at his heart, and stepped out of the way of the bloody corpse that was careening at him, unable to stop. Dwelmare’s bloody and battered corpse slammed into Ivan’s king sized drawers with enough

speed to break it in half with a splintering crash. “Tisk. That was anticlimactic.” Marcus mused as he circled Ivan with his sword still drawn. “Now it’s just you and me brother, and I always won, even when you were skinny and fast.” He joked twirling his sword in a show of physical prowess, and strength. “Here, you can fight with this.” He slid a fire iron towards his brother. “It will suit you for the short battle that will ensue. ”What you don’t know, Marcus is that I have been practicing, and I am totally prepared to defeat you here, take your head, and plant it on a stake.” Ivan said as he prepared for battle. “Let it begin!” Marcus said as he sliced toward his brothers throat. Ivan blocked and countered with a swift leg sweep that he followed up with a slicing motion that cut Marcus right under his throat. Marcus sprawled to his feet, and sliced at Ivan, who blocked, parried, and stabbed at his brother’s heart. The shot bounced off Marcus’s bright white armor, and flew right, cutting his arm in the process. Marcus’s retreated a few steps, looking at his wounds before switching his sword hand and advancing on his brother again. Ivan advanced as well, swinging the fire iron hard, knocking the sword out of Marcus’s hand. He followed the blow with a strong leg kick that toppled Marcus. Ivan stood over his brother’s Bleeding body, reached down and picked up his sword. “I used to love you like a brother, but I have to kill you. I know you Marcus you’ll just come back. So I’ll see you in the afterlife.” and with that Ivan cut off Marcus’s head, and the kings chamber was stained with royal blood.

Microfiction Freedom “I wonder what it would be like to be free?” Jimmy thought as he desperately tried to keep his mind off the meat hook stuck in his shoulder. A voice from the darkness tore him from his thoughts, like all of the flesh in his shoulder was being torn from the bone by the hook. “If you would just answer the question we will let you down, and treat your shoulder.” a dark man said in a broken english accent, “ Where can we get the predator missiles?” Jimmy thought for a moment, the pain in his arm was getting unbearable, but he decided that the best thing for him at the moment was to protect his country. “ Sergeant James Morrison, M4306, Wilmington Delaware.” Jimmy spat at the dark man staring at him. “You have made a mis” He said before he was cut off by the cough of a rifle. As Jimmy spat the mans blood from his mouth, six men dressed in all black entered the room, “ Navy Seals, we’re bringing you home,” one man said as he and another helped him down. “Thank God,” Jimmy said as the pain melted away into the bliss of possibly going home. Twitter Fiction Billy’s Dream “But Mom, I’m scared to go to sleep,” Billy Cried, “my sister scares me!” “But Billy you don’t have a sister!” Billy’s mom said frantically. Freedom “I wonder what it would be like to be free?” Jimmy thought as he desperately tried to keep his mind off the meat hook stuck in his shoulder. Puddle in the sand As the blood flowed down my arm, and made a puddle on the sand under my hand I realised that you wouldn’t save me this time. No Way Down I see the sun on the floor and realize that I must have tied the knot wrong, and now that the chair is tipped over there is no way down.

Formal Poetry Never Easy Deep in a cave dark and damp, a creature stirs waking slow, shaking the dust and the wet, from it’s body. Warming up because of the cold. As it rolls, it sees three young nursing slow. Her stomach growls and she needs food to keep her young ones alive. A mothers life is never easy even if she knew they were coming. Mother bears sleep through the pain, and wake up with new mouths to feed. Villanella A Cut Cannot Heal A cut cannot heal, tell me who is to blame because I just cannot feel. 16

The regret that I’m feeling, Leaves no time for a wound to heal. A cut cannot heal. What is left to feel? Nothing will be the same tell me who is to blame Triolet I Hate Poetry Poetry Sucks, Long I have thought. It’s so boring, and hard to write. Poetry Sucks, It’s just like rap. Hard to swallow and easy to do. Poetry Sucks, Long I have Thought. A wonderful Day A wonderful day Then a quick flash of green and It all goes away

Free Verse Poetry Castle On A Cliff Charred black grass Weapons litter the field Swords gleam in the sun The fire put out The smoke rising high The sulfurous smell Tree falls with a crash Blood covers his sash He walks off the field alone Rocks jutt out like spikes A castle shadowed black A new flag within The Subway Like Sardines we are packed together Nice and tight We crunch and bunch and we bend inside these thin metal containers We are kept cold and we are moved about to different places in this cold cold fridgeCastle On A Cliff Charred black grass Weapons litter the field Swords gleam in the sun The fire put out The smoke rising high The sulfurous smell 18

Tree falls with a crash Blood covers his sash He walks off the field alone Rocks jutt out like spikes A castle shadowed black A new flag within there is no heat we are not sardines however We are business men without cars We are travelers from out of state We are sports fans that don’t want to drive We all ride the subway The Pear Ahh the pear It’s rough green hide It’s dark green color It’s elongated shape It’s sweet yet crisp taste Better than an apple but not often bought Ahh the pear The crunch of the first bite The crunch of the last bite The thick yet flimsy stem and small but thick core Better than an apple but not often bought The Emptiness of the Snack Drawer As the long dark day begins light slowly shines dimly 19

on the contents within an empty bag sits idly by and watches the world crumbs and stains glisten as the sun slowly grows brighter An audible crunch is heard and the number of crumbs grow as they fall into the drawer with the same sound as the sprinkle of a light rain The world gazes upon the drawer as the last of it’s contents are taken from within and it is left empty and abandoned The rustle of bags is heard and the drawer is opened with a loud groan and new treats and goodies are released inside and the drawer is used again

Authors Note’s Freedom “I wonder what it would be like to be free?” Jimmy thought as he desperately tried to keep his mind off the meat hook stuck in his shoulder. When I wrote this twitter fiction, I really liked it. It was dark, and made everyone question who I actually was. I just wanted it to be longer. It just left too much to the imagination, and I couldn’t leave it like that. So, I ended up writing it as a micro fiction piece, titled Freedom. Castle On A Cliff Charred black grass Weapons litter the field Swords gleam in the sun The fire put out The smoke rising high The sulfurous smell Tree falls with a crash Blood covers his sash He walks off the field alone Rocks jutt out like spikes A castle shadowed black A new flag within When I originally wrote Castle On A Cliff, it was written with the ending first, then the middle , then the beginning. It flowed well, but was hard to follow. It confused most of the people who read it, and I understood what they meant. I changed the order, and now, I believe it flows better, and makes more sense. The King of Dwelmeharen Ivan was a jolly man, normally. He was a big man, and usually had a smile on his face that ran from ear to ear. He had a roarious billowing laugh that would fill his hall with a noise like an avalanche.

But today was different. The jolly ginger king that had a beard to his belly button had no smile today. His cheeks were not red from the consumption of his hand made dwarf ale, and there was no laughing. As he hurried down the corridor he murmured to himself, "No it can't be, not yet! Not now! He couldn't have broken the oath so soon, and just as my men were sent home for harvest!" As he passed through the halls of his palace, a small bald dwarf covered in tattoos stepped out of the shadows. He was a taller dwarf, with thick arms and a well built body, his arms and face were dotted with the scars from past battles, and his left eye socket was covered with an eye patch to keep infection out. He followed Ivan closely as they stepped through the doors and into the sunlight. "They have been outside for hours." The bald headed dwarf said. "They haven't done anything but stare at us Dwelmare. They are just trying to coax us into battle. And if it was up to you they would succeed. " Ivan shouted over the roar of a sudden and powerful wind. "Ivan, you have grown ignorant since your victory at Brommel. Has the thought crossed your mind that maybe they are just staring at us because they are waiting for something. I advise you to call in your forces. If they were here, we could have a battle ready army by tomorrow. " " I know I know. Alright. Send my courier to the house of every warrior in my kingdom: Be here tomorrow, or face death on the grounds of cowardice. " Ivan shouted knowing his men would hate him for cutting there well deserved holiday a month and a half short. "What about us?” a small fair haired boy with a well built body and dark thunderous eyes spoke up from behind one of the three banners that sat on the perch that Ivan and Dwelmare were standing. “ What if they attack before our forces get here? Dad are we gonna die? I don’t want to die I want to live. ” the boy screamed as he worked himself into an uncontrollable fit of fear.

“ Son nothing is going to happen now go back inside and train, one day the king will call on you like he is calling on his warriors today, and when that day comes you will need to be ready. So go train and let the king have some peace. He is very stressed at the moment.” Dwelmare said firmly in a soft voice that made the child feel loved. “But father...” The boy stammered before being cut off. “Welamere, now, or I will make you eat with the dogs tonight.” Dwelmare shouted at his son. “ Yes dad.” Welamere said as he shuffled away to the castle to continue his training. “Oh come now Dwelmare, the boy is scared, can’t you see? Let him come and here our talk, he will need to know if he is to be the next kings assistant.” Ivan said as he ushered the boy back to him. “Ohh yay!” the boy exclaimed as he ran back to the king who was waiting for him with open arms. The boy was just jumping into the kings arms as blood splattered the kings face, and the boys limp body landed in his hands, a long stick protruding out of his skull like a tree from the ground, and a razor sharp metal object slicing a shallow gash across the kings eye. “ Noooooo!” Dwelmare shouted as he took the limp, lifeless body of his son from his king, tears rolling down his face. “ You fiends, you know not what you did, you have just unleashed hell, and the demons within its bosom will fall over you like the waves of the Zhuf.” He yelled as he laid the lifeless corpse of his son on the ground, as gently as if he was laying a baby down for a nap. After he laid his son on the ground at his feet, Dwelmare pulled his sword from its hilt, and ran it down the length of his palm. “I swear to the gods that the army who has taken my son from me will pay dearly, in men, in

riches, and in the burning of their homes, each and every one of them will die!” “Dwelmare,” Ivan said in a kind but firm voice, “You will have your revenge, but you will wait until our army is battle ready. And you will wait for my signal to attack, do I make myself clear?” “Yes king.” Dwelmare seethed through clenched and grinding teeth, as he wrapped his hand in a torn off piece of his shirt. “I believe that we cannot wait for our army to arrive. Assemble my personal guard Dwelmare.” Ivan said as he held his eye and winced in pain as blood seeped through the cracks in his fingers. “Place them at the wall, and as soldiers arrive, feed them, then tell them to prepare for battle. All archers are to go straight to the wall, they will have food brought to them. If you or anyone else needs me, I will be bathing, and preparing for battle. Dwelmare I love you like a brother, and what happened today was terrible, but revenge can wait until the lives of the women and children of my realm are safe from the danger that is lurking outside this cities gates.” He said as he took a deep breath, turned and went inside still clutching his bleeding eye. As the sun set, and the beautiful shades of pink and red filled the sky, Ivans army arrived. Just a trickle at first, a few dozen men every hour, but that trickle quickly turned into a raging river as groups of hundreds arrived every couple of minutes. As Ivan stood in his chambers, which like the royal robe he now wore, was all purple. He watching as his army readied the defenses, and prepared for battle, he could not forgive himself. That little boy is dead, because of me! He thought to himself. I knew they would try to kill me, I should have gone inside, but instead I let my anger get the best of me. Stupid, stu a knock on the door tore him from his thoughts. “ What do you want?” Ivan yelled as tore his wandering eyes away from the window. “It’s Dwelmare sir, may I come in?” the voice on the other side of the door yelled back.”

“Oh good, come in, come in.” Ivan said as he rushed to the door and flung it open. As Dwelmare walked in, he closed the door behind him. “Your grace,” He began, “The men are ready, the defenses are prepared, and all are here. The archers are at their posts, and your guard will be back to you after they have eaten. Is there anything” He was cut off by a loud and rapid knocking on the door. As Dwelmare opened it, it creaked on it’s hinges, and a small man stood on the other side. He was dressed in all white armor is sword was out of it’s sheath, as he pulled the sword in his hand, the guard behind him fell to the ground with a crash. “Hello Ivan,” The short man stepped within the velvety room. “I see you acquired a taste for the expensive in your short time as king.” He said as he slowly motioned to the giant oil paintings on the wall. “None of these were here when I was king. I also see that you have grown fat and slow in your years of luxury. Maybe you should lose a few pounds.” He spat as he stepped into the light. He was small, maybe 5’6”, his all white armor gleamed in the torchlight of the room. His hands were gloved. He strode in circles around the room. “Marcus; How did you get in here? wh what do you want?” Ivan blubbered as he coward behind Dwelmare who’s sword was raised. “What, can’t a man come and visit his little brother?” Marcus chuckled as he slowly walked around the room, “ My, these pictures are nice,possibly one of a kind, sure would be a shame if they were ripped!” He cackled as he swung his sword at one of the paintings, ripping it in half. “How did you get in here?” Ivan asked as he slowly backed into a corner. “Do you not remember playing in this castle as little kids? The sewers. Remember we found a way from the castle to the fields. It was our first adventure. I thought you would at least remember the

times we had before you thought you were crazy.” Marcus spat at his brother as he remembered all the good time they had as kids. “I didn’t think you were crazy, that was father. I knew you were sane, but when father offered me the throne I had to take it.” Ivan said as he slowly crept out of the corner and closer to his brother. “I lifted your exile, and sent men to find you and bring you back, but they could not find you. I beg you brother, call off your army, come back, and be my counselor, I will give you land, and gold, and” He said before he was interrupted. “Do not think that your gold can buy me. I spent years trying to rebuild a life, and now that I have, I will take back my kingdom.” Marcus shouted as he gripped the hilt of his sword. “Were you the one who gave the order to fire that arrow?” Dwelmare asked as he stepped in front of Marcus,inturrupting his train of thought, “It is your army out there, they follow you.” Dwelmare accused. “That arrow, the one you meant for your brother, it killed my son, You killed my one and only son over a petty birthright.” Dwelmare shouted as tears streamed down his face. Dwelmare pulled his axe from it’s resting place on his back, and charged the white clad knight. As Dwelmare got within striking range, Marcus pulled the sword from it’s hilt, and in one fluid motion slashed at Dwelmare’s throat, stabbed at his heart, and stepped out of the way of the bloody corpse that was careening at him, unable to stop. Dwelmare’s bloody and battered corpse slammed into Ivan’s king sized drawers with enough speed to break it in half with a splintering crash. “Tisk. That was anticlimactic.” Marcus mused as he circled Ivan with his sword still drawn. “Now it’s just you and me brother, and I always won, even when you were skinny and fast.” He joked twirling his sword in a show of physical prowess, and strength. “Here, you can fight with this.” He slid a

fire iron towards his brother. “It will suit you for the short battle that will ensue. ”What you don’t know, Marcus is that I have been practicing, and I am totally prepared to defeat you here, take your head, and plant it on a stake.” Ivan said as he prepared for battle. “Let it begin!” Marcus said as he sliced toward his brothers throat. Ivan blocked and countered with a swift leg sweep that he followed up with a slicing motion that cut Marcus right under his throat. Marcus sprawled to his feet, and sliced at Ivan, who blocked, parried, and stabbed at his brother’s heart. The shot bounced off Marcus’s bright white armor, and flew right, cutting his arm in the process. Marcus’s retreated a few steps, looking at his wounds before switching his sword hand and advancing on his brother again. Ivan advanced as well, swinging the fire iron hard, knocking the sword out of Marcus’s hand. He followed the blow with a strong leg kick that toppled Marcus. Ivan stood over his brother’s Bleeding body, reached down and picked up his sword. “I used to love you like a brother, but I have to kill you. I know you Marcus you’ll just come back. So I’ll see you in the afterlife.” and with that Ivan cut off Marcus’s head, and the kings chamber was stained with royal blood. When I started to write The King of Dwelmareharen, it was months ago, and I wasn’t in creative writing. I had the story in my head, and was ready to write it. Then I got side tracked, and never finished. Then we got this assignment, and I knew this was the perfect story for the job. When I finished it however, it was way too long, and didn’t really make sense. So, I went in whole different direction with it, and am quite pleased with the final outcome. A Perfectly Normal Spring Day In Spring, my dad would have us outside all day. "It's a good day, go have fun. I'll call you for 27

dinner." He would say as he shut the door on the three tired yet wide eyed faces that stared tiredly at him until they were staring at the cold, brown paint of the faux wood door. Then the three of us, my step brother Darren usually in jeans, no matter what the temperature, Michael, pale and tall, and I, would go three different ways to enjoy the day in our own way. We usually stayed on the driveway for a couple of hours, because the grass was still wet with the dew that fell in the earlier hours of the morning. Darren would go into the house quietly to take the matchbox cars, matches, and stash of illegal fireworks from his room to cause destruction in the driveway. Michael would shuffle onto the porch to crouch over the ant farm that he watched for hours, sometimes counting ants, and sometimes just admiring the workmanship. Me, I would get into the garage and saddle up my bike like I was a cowboy from an old west movie. As the years dragged on however, our routines changed with our age. I graduated to a dirt bike, along with my step brother, and Michael to taking pictures of us riding, before he too graduated to a four wheeler. One day, a few days after Michael received his new ATV, we were all riding in the corn field behind our house. I remember the day well, the clouds of dust left behind as I followed Darren as he double clutched through the corners, the sun shifting in the sky as we rode for hours and hours, it was one of our many brutal rides. Both on us, but also on our machines, another long day of red lining down the straights before riding the brakes into the corners, and landing hard on the suspension as we landed the jumps. At about 1:00 in the afternoon, my dad flagged me down as I came down the final straight of our mock supercross track. When I turned off my bike, and coasted off the trail to see what he needed, he backed up a few steps and let me come to a stop. " I'm done mowing, and I'm going to go watch the Phillies game in the garage, so keep an eye on your brother, since he is still getting used to his four wheeler. " he said when I finally got my helmet off after a few moments of struggling with it. "Ok, I'll put my bike up on the corner and watch them." I said angrily because I couldn't ride anymore, but feeling overly responsible with the task that was given to me. I kicked my bike to a start, put my helmet on my head, and crawled up the hill in second gear before stopping at the top and parking my bike. I remember the sun in my face as I took my helmet off and wiped the sweat from my face with my grimy glove. As I sat on my bike watching my brothers ride I remember getting lost in my thoughts. I can't remember what I was thinking about, and I have spent years thinking that maybe if I would have paid attention maybe the worst moment of my life would not have happened. I distinctly remember a loud crash pulling me from my thoughts. When I looked around to see what it 28

was I saw a scene that changed my life forever. Halfway down the hill my brothers red ATV was flipping back onto it's four wheels with a deafening crack, and my brothers limp body laying in a heap a few feet away. My first reaction, was an uncontrollable guttural scream of his name as I sprinted down the hill. Now I don’t know if it was my scream, or if he heard the Atv flip over, but my dad was on my heels all the way down the hill, and when we reached the bottom of the hill he wouldn't let me look at my brothers still body. When we arrived at the hospital, I had learned that my brother, and the one person I had shared everything with, from foster care to my deepest secret, had died in the ambulance. The next few hours were a blur of family and friends wishing their condolences, and crying so much that I was incapable of crying anymore. When I arrived home at 3 Am the next morning, I remember laying in bed and realising that you are never too young to die, and that even though this was a horrible experience, I couldn’t have done anything to change it, and all I could do was cherish the time we shared, and live my life in a way that he would be proud of. I didn’t know it at the time, but looking back on it, in the months afterward I had matured so much that I was no longer the immature twelve year old that was selfish and mean, but the twelve year old that tried to make the best out of everything, and help everyone. The first copy of this story was actually terrible. My grammar and spelling was terrible, and I was a very bad writer. After a few months, when my writing progressed, I went back in and edited it so much. About three days to be exact, and I am very happy with the outcome. Never Easy Deep in a cave dark and damp, a creature stirs waking slow, shaking the dust and the wet, from it’s body. Warming up because of the cold. 29

As it rolls, it sees three young nursing slow. Her stomach growls and she needs food to keep her young ones alive. A mothers life is never easy even if she knew they were coming. Mother bears sleep through the pain, and wake up with new mouths to feed. The first copy of this poem was actually terrible. My meter was off, and I did not use punctuation. After a few weeks, when my writing progressed, I went back in and edited it to the point that it is at now, and I am very happy with the outcome.