Friend or Foe

Long ago when the earth was still young when the sun was still a ripe orange and the mountains reached high into the scarlet blue sky groping for the clouds. When animals could talk. There lived a mouse named Anita in a tall oak tree in the deep forests of India. Near that tree there lived the jungle king Jara the Tiger who harassed all the creatures of the jungle including Anita. Anita and Jara were sworn enemies and no creature in the jungle ever thought of them as friends. When ever Anita thought of going out of the tree to get food she had to be very careful. Jara was ready to eat her up every time she left her home. Anita was a very quite creature while Jara was the king of the jungle he was ruthless and mean and very power abusive but little did he know he would make a friend that would teach him to be kind and gentle.

 One day a hunter came to the forest. He choose the clearing where Anita and Jara lived to set his trap. The trap lay there all day until one helpless animal like a deer would stumble in to it and would be caught in the twine and string. It would not be able to move anywhere. The hunter always came back at sun rise to see what game he had captured. Now Jara was very careful not to go near the net but one day…

Jara was lugging a baby deer on his back coming back for the hunt. The deer was wounded badly blood was dripping slowly. Jara a rather savage creature amused him self by catching the deer’s blood in his mouth as it dripped slowly. Jara was very lazy because that morning the sparrow above his den had woke him up very early with its unnecessary chirping. Jara walked on. His heavy feet beat against the soft grassy ground the air was cool and nice the wind seemed to be singing a song of delight. It seemed to be saying “it’s the time of the evening when every thing is quite when all the creatures of the jungle listen to the winds song” and so on. The drowsy Jara was crookedly walking towards the clearing and before he knew it he was in the hunters trap Ahh!!!! he cried the twine had snapped right on his tail. His cry echoed through the jungle waking every creature up from there evening nap including Anita.

When she heard Jara’s shrill cry she ran outside and started skipping for joy, and when she saw Jara entangled in the hunters dangerous net she cried “Ha-ha Jara my friend look who is going to die”. This is indeed a day to celebrate! Shouted Anita in excitement. The little mouse danced in joy her happiness was unbelievable. My enemy is gone” “my enemy is gone she kept yelling into to the trees. The miserable Jara sat with his back turned to Anita. The sky was turning a pale gray the sun had set behind the mountains.  The world was enveloped in darkness. The moon shone like a bright pearl in the starlit sky. It looked like the eye of an eagle flying over the snow peaked mountains. Anita was jeering at Jara mocking and taunting him unkindly. She stepped into the middle of the clearing but before she could utter another insult she heard with her sharp ears a rustle in the trees above. She peered up into the leaves and saw a hungry owl peering down at her. Anita was frightened, the owl was one of her enemies and was ready to come soaring down from the tree and eat her up. She stayed completely still not moving a muscle until there came a sound from the bush next to her. Anita turned her face in horror it was a mongoose another one of her foes. Everywhere she looked there was an enemy.

On the tree, the owl, near the bushes the mongoose and in the net Jara. Anita racked her brains wondering of what to do. Finally she thought of an idea. She cautiously approached Jara. “What do you want he said tensely?” “Look Jara” Anita said “I will free you from your plight if you help me get away from the mongoose and the owl.” “What can I do to save you when I am ensnared in this filthy net?” “Let me crawl under the net and sit by you until my enemies are gone after that I will cut the strings that are holding you and give you your freedom it’s a win win situation”. “But what if you just don’t cut the strings and run away after all you were taunting me just a few minutes ago”. “You’ll have to just trust me” Anita replied. Jara could see the hope in Anita’s eyes and agreed to the deal. She crawled under the net and settled herself comfortably. Anita thought to herself whoa “I actually feel safe under the protection of Jara the tiger”. Jara thought “Anita is really ensuring my safety.” The mongoose and the owl stared at this unbelievable sight. “I can’t wait forever” the owl said “it’s almost dawn” I’m leaving. “Me too” said the mongoose. When they both went away Anita said my turn to return the bargain. And without further a dew Anita started attacking the net with her teeth trying to beat the sunrise.                           

    Anita started chewing madly at the strings, biting and biting into the sleek thread. The sun was creeping over the high mount tops she could see the shadows of the trees looming over her like a monstrous bird. Jara peered down at Anita in amazement admiring her unmatched determination. “Just a few more strings to go” Anita thought. Her sharp teeth were moving with incredible speed like razors cutting into soft chicken meat. The sky had turned dusty blue now. Both animals new that meant the hunter was due their any moment. Anita was on the last string. Her teeth felt like they were going to fall of any second. In the distance both animals could see the outline of a human. It was the hunter. Anita with her wonderful hears herd the screeching of the hunter’s blades rubbing together. The soft taping noise that he made with his unkempt sandals broke the unbelievable silence of the jungle. The tapping was growing louder every second. Anita was still chewing away at the last few strands of the string. As the hunter came upon the clearing Anita cut the last strand of the net and Jara was free. The hunter was astounded and enraged to see his new net torn in pieces. Seeing the rat under the remaining parts of his trap the hunter viciously seized poor Anita and shoved her into his bag. The hunter was just about to walk away, when there was a rustle in the bushes as the hunter gazed into the greenness. Jara suddenly jumped out and lunged at him. His claws drove into the hunters flesh wounding him badly. The hunter ran for his life dropping Anita on the hard ground. She lay unconscious.

When she awoke she saw Jara looming over her with caring eyes. Anita sat up and there was a pause 

                                                  

“Thank you” She said panting for breath. Her tail had a small gash on its side it was bleeding madly. The gooey substance was all over the grass making it look like the red sea. Anita stared at Jara but before she could utter another word she collapsed onto his soft paw. When she opened her eyelids she saw Jara. “why did you do that” she asked softly “that’s what friends do” Jara replied… and from that day on Anita and Jara were the best friends of the jungle       

Author Presentation

http://prezi.com/ufudu7vnq7lr/jk-rowling/

When the jungle is quiet

When the jungle is quiet

No creature is stirring, for something exciting will soon be occurring

The birds on the trees, the flowers and bees all sit and wait for something great

The fish in the pond, the fox and the deer are waiting in silence for it to appear

The rhino and the hippo, the elephant and the giraffe, even the little humming bird stops taking a bath

The cheetah and the leopard climb down from their tree to chatter and whisper about what they would see

All the animals gather in the center of a clearing   

What’s coming?

Is it big, is it scary, is it long is it hairy?

Does it have sharp teeth and feet that smell?

Is it something that will make you yell?

Or is it sweet and full of joy?

Is it a girl or is it a boy?

All the animals sit there very scared, their eyes up and teeth bared.

And finally dawn arrives, and sleepiness fills the animal’s eyes.

Then a rustle from the bushes, was followed by shoves and pushes

And something came out with a yell and a shout

So then what did the animals do?

That my friend is up to you.

Who is it?

“Police stumped! No clues to the recent disappearances in the Winfield area. The offender is known to be impersonating another man or woman; people are advised not to open doors to any unknown surveyors or business men.”

Jessica sat on her couch gazing upon the television screen as this headline blared from WNBC’s reporter Steven Matthew. Her eyes kept darting to the windows and doors as her hands began to tremble and twitch in a state of paranoia. She kept imagining things; people in her house. She had just recently moved into this house and wasn’t used to its emptiness and vast size yet. The house was located on a suburban street called Hillcrest; it was a colourful street where each house seemed to stand on its own little isolated hill. Tonight, however, one could hardly notice its beauty due to the cascading down pour of rain pounding the street, and the prospect of a cold blooded killer lurking around. Jessica was just thinking she would check to make sure all the entrances to the house were locked when she heard a light knock on the front door. Her body seemed to seize up as she cautiously approached the large wooden door.

“Who is it?” she inquired.

“Good evening Ma’am I’m looking for Ryan Davis”

Jessica stared through the peephole and saw a relatively tall middle aged man, wearing what seemed to be a well-tailored suit; it was difficult to tell due to the blurred droplets of rain masking his image. He had no umbrella.

“Who?” She asked

“Ryan Davis, I’m a business associate of his and he hasn’t been answering my calls for weeks.”

“I’m sorry there is no Ryan Davis living here, this is the Martin residence.”

“ Is this 415 Hillcrest Street?” He asked.

“Yes” Jessica answered hesitantly.

There was a pause; the man seemed to be thinking.

“Ma’am, do you think I could borrow your phone? I don’t seem to have brought mine”

“Why don’t you just drive on over to the police station 6 blocks down, they’ve got one there.”

“I don’t have a car Ma’am and it’s raining very hard! Please Ma’am just one call!”

“I’m very sorry but no.” Said Jessica as she walked back towards the couch and sat down.

A few minutes later, there were several bangs upon the door. Jessica jumped and hurried to peer through the peep hole.

“MA’AM! PLEASE YOU MUST LET ME IN!” cried the man, he was sopping wet and still hammering against the door frame.

“NO I DON’T KNOW YOU!” Jessica yelled

“BUT MA’AM YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND! I JUST SAW A MAN CLIMB THROUGH YOUR UPSTAIRS WINDOW!”

Jessica wield about, and gazed upon the staircase leading to the second floor. She instinctively grabbed a metal poker from the fire and held it behind her back.

“PLEASE MA’AM I CAN HELP! YOU’RE IN DANGER!”

Jessica’s hands were sweating, as she very cautiously opened the front door and the man stumbled in.

“Matt Palmer pleasure to meet you ma’am.” He said, a sly smile creeping across his face.

Jessica didn’t answer; she was still gazing at the carpeted staircase winding its way upstairs.

“Don’t worry there’s no one inside your house! I just said that to get inside, it’s raining so much I couldn’t stand it!”

There was a still silence. Jessica’s face was contorted with a mixture of fear and rage as she turned to the stranger.

“Gotcha!” said Matt as he began to remove his jacket.

“You probably think I’m that killer they’ve been talking about on the news. I bet you’re thinking: what is he going to use to slice me up?” He said, now fully grinning.

Jessica made out a gold filling at the back of his mouth.

“Don’t cha?” He said, now laughing manically.

Jessica fingered the hot poker behind her back, and asked timidly, “What do you want from me?”

“Hmmmmm a hot cup of tea and some bread would be nice. It was deadly cold outside.” said Matt now rubbing his hands together.

“Fine, but you must go after that!” said Jessica as she led him to the kitchen, dropping the poker back near the fire.

The kettle whistled two minutes later, fogging up the kitchen windows with steam. Jessica gave Matt his tea and watched him drinking hesitantly.

“Ahhhhh that’s better! Thank you Ma’am.” Said Matt

Jessica didn’t answer; she had noticed a shiny metal instrument protruding out of the man’s pocket.

“Please you must leave now; my boyfriend will be home any minute.”

Matt laughed. “You don’t have a boyfriend ma’am! Nobody knows you’re here.”

“Please leave or I’ll call the police!”

“And what if I said I’m not going to… at least not yet?” he said smirking.

Jessica picked up the nearest phone and dialled 911.

“Officer please some man has entered my house! My address is 415 Hillcrest Street!” She yelled, and slammed the phone back down on the receiver.

Matt got up and yawned. “Okay ma’am, I’m leaving nothing to worry about,” he said and proceeded to open the front door. As it creaked open, another man was revealed standing on the door step, and Matt caught off guard retreated as fast as he could back into the house.

The man entered the house, his sopping wet boots preceding his lanky frame. “Police Department, you called for assistance.”

“YES! Officer this man has entered my house and is not willing to leave! He’s going to kill me! He’s the mad killer on the news!” yelled Jessica.

The officer said nothing, but pulled a gun from his jacket pocket and pointed it towards Matt.

“WAIT MA’AM BACK AWAY FROM HIM!” cried Matt.

“Shut up and get your hands behind your head!” said the officer.

“HOW CAN IT BE POSSIBLE THAT THE POLICE WOULD COME TO YOUR DOOR JUST SECONDS AFTER YOU CALLED?” screamed Matt.

“WHAT KIND OF POLICE OFFICER DOESN’T WEAR A UNIFORM!?”

Jessica picked up the poker she had left near the fire and waved it in front of her, hitting the officer’s gun to the floor. She lunged for it and stood up pointing it at both Matt and the so called police man.

“WHO ARE YOU!?” she asked, yelling and shaking.

“I’m just a thief,” replied the man in a husky voice his hands raised.

“BULL SHIT! HES THE KILLER SHOOT HIM MA’AM!” screamed Matt

“I SWEAR I’M NOT! HONEST IM JUST A THIEF!” said the man

“KILL HIM! OR HE’LL KILL US BOTH” yelled Matt.

“Jessica listen to me, I came to steal from Ryan Davis’s house,” the man pleaded.

“THIS IS THE MARTIN’S HOUSE NOT RYAN DAVIS!” thundered Jessica.

The two men were sweating profusely, as they backed up towards the couch.

“SIT OR ILL SHOOT YOU BOTH,” warned Jessica

“Ma’am…please ma’am... Do I look like a killer?” asked Matt

“OF COURSE HE DOES SHOOT HIM MA’AM!” said the thief

“SHUT UP!!!!” She yelled and fired a bullet through the ceiling. The sound echoed and the two men fell silent. Jessica’s eyes were bulging and her neck twitching.

Matt and the thief sat deadly still looking at the woman before them.

“Ma’am please listen to...” but before Matt could finish his sentence Jessica had sent another bullet whizzing through a china doll, just feet from where they were sitting.

“SHUT UP!” She yelled now retreating a couple steps from the couch where the men were situated.

The thief stood up and started to laugh, “Only two bullets ma’am” he said cheekily beginning to advance on her. Jessica pulled the trigger but nothing was fired, and the man began to roar with laughter. Then out of nowhere Matt dived across the floor and groped for the hot poker from the fire, and just as the thief turned to face him drove it into his gut. Blood gushed from his body, staining the carpets covering the floor a brilliant scarlet. Jessica screamed a blood curdling scream which seemed to reverberate around the room. Just as she screamed, there was a blast of thunder and lightning and the lights in the house went out. Matt could hear running footsteps proceeding up the spiral staircase.

“MA’AM! IF I DIDN’T KILL HIM HE WOULD HAVE KILLED US BOTH” he cried to the darkness, but there was no reply.

Matt reached around in the darkness for the phone to call 911, but as he placed it to his ear, no dial tone could be heard. He followed the wire connecting the receiver to the plug point and to his horror found it to be cut by what seemed to be a serrated knife.

“What?” Matt thought, puzzled.

“Who would cut the cord!? Does this mean..?”

“MA’AM! THERE’S SOMEONE ELSE IN THE HOUSE! Matt yelled out loud as he began blindly thundering up the spiral staircase. There was no answer. Matt’s heart was pounding, threatening to burst out of his chest. Slowly, he pulled the tiny camp knife from his waist coat pocket and held it out in front of him. The darkness was overwhelming and all he could hear was the consistent down pour of rain and the thunder booming outside.

“Ma’am?” He whispered into the darkness, still no reply. Matt was panting now, his feet were shuffling through the corridor making hardly a sound, then suddenly there was a CRASH, the sound of breaking glass, and Matt without thinking began running straight ahead, his eyes set on the sanctuary of the room before him. And then he tripped, over something large, something soft. His knife flew out of his hand as his face collided with the stone cold floor, breaking his nose and spewing blood. As he turned to see the cause of his fall, a stroke of lightning flashed and illuminated a mangled and mutilated body. It was Ryan Davis, the real owner of the house. Eyes rolled back so that only white could be seen, he was dead. Piecing it together, Matt recalled the day’s news headlines: “known to be impersonating another man or woman.” Matt felt a chill trickle down his spine and turned to face the true killer.

“Gotcha,” said Jessica, licking her lips.

Writers Block

A block, impossible to beat

Incessantly overwhelming.

I gaze far as the eye can see upon blank.

Fingers entwined on a piece of wood.

Through the window I see no light

Enveloped by the darkness

A curse no man can bear

This lonely road of blocks.

And desire to fill this pale parchment

Burns as Helios chariot.

Yet, the road is still blocked

And I am still alone

My path is starting to twist and turn

Realms of dense, dark isolation.

The piece of wood trembles

Still impeded by these barriers of thoughts.

Till, with a sudden burst of light

This road is now full of the tall and thin civilians

Who help, move these large barricades.

And they walk straight, towards my mind.

The curse is lifted

Blocks smashed by the oncoming hoard of humans

My eyes open, glitter.

The wood has touched the parchment

A Drop

A drop, crystal and clear hung from the tip of a glistening leaf. Like a man at the edge of a cliff, the drop would continuously rock back and forth, yet it would not fall, something was drawing it back. The leaf was its home, its sanctuary and once it left there would be no return. Once it lost its grip upon the bright green stem the drop would fall, thundering towards the dark damp earth below. This was not its place, it had come from the sky. The looming grey clouds above had been its origin, its home and the drop remembered it as though it was yesterday.  But it was yesterday, literally 24 hours ago the drop had been up, within the gigantinc dark gods above, and without warning it had been plucked and banished, to the hell which is the earth. Now it still hangs, perilously close to falling, surrounded by stems of large green grass encasing it, there was no escape. The ground was beckoning to the drop, like a flame to an unwilling moth. Oh how it tried to resist, this was the devil in its most minute form, desire. The drop felt this. Desire to be free from this world, desire to be rid of the looming prospect of falling, desire to rid the stress of holding on. Finally, the drop could feel its strength fading every second, slipping closer to the edge of the leaf. It was as though life renched out the drops imaginary fingertips clutching on, and the drop fell. It's stroke of brilliance and beauty would never be forgotten, it had finally given up. It was gone, and finally free.

A Pinch Of Magic 

    It was my mother who picked the book up, in a remote library situated on the outskirts of Atlanta. Its walls were crumbling from age and its paint was pealing, most of its color faded. I was walking through aisles surrounded by towers of novels and magazines when she came to me with a book in hand and said, “The librarian recommended this one.” I distinctly remember the sneer which crept across my childish face as I gazed upon the tattered old book entitled “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s stone.” Running my hand over the embossed lettering I remember giving her a skeptical look as if saying “What is this sorcerer’s rubbish?” Although by then she was giving me one of her intimidating piercing glares so I decided to give the book a gander. When I look back on this incident, I thank god for the old librarian at the front desk who pitched the idea, because if it wasn’t for her I wouldn't have ever flipped the pages of the book phenomenon which changed, or in a way, started my life. And so it began. 

    Days later I distinctly recall lying on my bed in the sultry hot interior of my bedroom, clutching the book in between my hands. A bumblebee was circling the room “BUZZZZ” it went distractedly as it came perilously close to my ear. As I turned the first page, a flash of scarlet caught my eye; it was the shining eye of a lion emblazed upon a coat of arms. Underneath this coat were several wise words. “Never tickle a sleeping Dragon.” I remember the puzzled feeling of uncertainty I felt as I gazed upon the crest which I then realized also contained: A timid badger, a bronze eagle, and a glistening serpent. Finally after much pondering and consideration I hesitantly turned the page. “The Boy Who Lived” were the first words that punctured my mind’s eye, like a pin popping an inflated balloon. Mildly interested, I began to read. 

    It was several minutes, or it could have been a trivial couple of hours or even four brilliantly sun lit days before I finally put the book down. All I knew was that I had immediately left the place I had known as reality and was enthralled into a realm of magic and mystery. A world where wizards truly exist but are hidden from other humans, a world where a half giant can raise his sopping wet  boot and send a door cascading to the ground. I had entered J.K Rowling’s fantastic imagination, and unbelievably it was as though I was staring through the glasses of the young lanky boy with jet black hair and almond shaped green eyes. I genuinely felt as if I was there, standing in the entrance hall shuffling my feet, my stomach rumbling from butterflies, so nervous to be sorted. And then there was the start of term feast, oh the feast; in my opinion the most marvelous of occasions in the story. My mouth literally watered as I visualized all the scrumptious looking food which magically filled the hundreds of empty plates scattered across the table. There was roast beef, skewered chicken, pork chops, lamb chops all of which sizzled like Helios’s chariot as they came to rest with the surface of my tongue, sending my taste buds on a roller coaster ride. And of course turkey, with pillowy mounds of mashed potatoes, butter drenched dressing, and tiny onions swimming in a sea of cream sauce.

Suddenly these marvelous sensations disappeared, and I was Harry gazing into the cold slit pupils of Lord Voldemort as he stood, his spiderlike white hand clutching the gold rim of the mirror of Erised. I felt rage and fear. I compared this to the salivating feeling I had experienced at the beginning of the novel, both were equally exhilarating. And just as suddenly as this image appeared, it was fading. I was now speaking with the one and only Albus Dumbledore, questioning him, I wanted answers, I felt betrayed. Why were my parents killed? All these questions swirled around my head banging against the inside and once again as though someone had switched a channel in my head, the scene before me ended. I was now gazing lustfully as the castle retreated and the great scarlet steam engine was taking me back to Privet Drive. I could feel the rain beating against the train window as the smell of pumpkin pasties wafted through the cabin door. Just as this was happening I seemed to be speeding down a light spangled tunnel, back to where I truly belonged. And I awoke, back in the heated confines of my attic bedroom, feeling as though it’d been a year since I’d last been there.

    And now, it’s as though a film is playing in my head, as these memories of my first encounter with the book flash by. Today as I sit on my porch, I stop and ponder; how much of an impact Harry has made on my life? If I look back, I realize my friendship with Harry Potter couldn’t have had more perfect timing. Apart from helping me survive plane rides, my sisters whining and my parents countless arguments; Harry ignited my relationship with my best friend which has probably been his most valuable contribution to my world, for I couldn’t imagine life without her. To many, “Harry Potter” is a story of flying broomsticks, evil dark wizards and talking spiders, but to those of us who get it; this story will intricately be woven into our own lives. To those of us who understand it, these characters will forever and always be our true friends. Even though the book and film franchises are over, I will always remember the tattered pages of the book that launched me into a whole other world.