Once upon a time there was a little chimp named Hevateneo that loved to go to school. He loved learning about science and math and English. Everyday he would wake up, take a shower, get dressed and eat a heart healthy breakfast that consisted of bananas and raisin bran. After breakfast he brushed his teeth, flossed, then he grabbed his backpack, lunch money, pencil and his favorite red beanie. As he left the door his mother would always remind him to look both ways before crossing the road or else a car could hit him. Hevateneo always wanted to get to school as quickly as possible but he always took the time to look both ways before crossing the road just like his mother said to do. Hevateneo walked to school all year long. He walked through rain, snow, wind, hail, sleet, frozen rain, monsoons, hurricanes, thunder, lightening, heat, drought, meteor showers, earthquakes, and even wild fires. And everyday no matter what the situation was he always looked both ways before crossing the road. His mother was always so happy to see him come home everyday she made him fresh banana cream pie. One day after school as Hevateneo was leaving school his saw some classmates smoking a cigarette. They saw Hevateneo and invited him over. He did not want to be rude so he went over and asked what they were doing Giovanni Giraffe said that they were just relaxing and smoking a cigarette. When Hevateneo asked why, Giovanni Giraffe simply replied, “All the cool kids are doing it.” Being uncool was the last thing Hevateneo wanted to happen and as long as he looked both ways before he crossed the road his mother surely wouldn’t care. Giovanni Giraffe extended his front leg toward Hevateneo with the cigarette wedged in his hoof. Hevateneo timidly grabbed the cigarette with his thumb and pointer finger. As he brought the cigarette to his lips his eyes closed and he took a long deep breath. He could feel the popularity enter his body. As he went home he felt like a new chimp. He was on top of the world. His regular banana cream pie was extra delicious and he got the best night of sleep he had had ever. The next morning he decided to mix up his routine by having frosted flakes instead of raisin bran. His mother was shocked but understood that having a little variety was a good thing. On his way to school he stopped when he got to the road. He stared straight across the road and lifted his foot but his head instinctively snapped from side to side to see if there were any cars. As usual there were none and he preceded to school. Again after school he saw Giovanni Giraffe smoking a cigarette. Hevateneo took a whole cigarette for himself and finished it quickly. Disaster the Hippo(the prettiest girl in the school) saw him and gave him her phone number. He couldn’t have been happier and as he was walking home he forgot to look both ways before crossing the road and was hit by a Ferrari going 90 miles per hour. His mother went looking for him only to find a dark splotch on the road. She knew it was he because of the little red beanie plastered to the road. She went home, ate an entire banana cream pie by herself and cried herself to sleep. The moral of the story is never flirt with Disaster.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
WA7 rough draft
Once upon a time there was a little chimp named Hevateneo that loved to go to school. He loved learning about science and math and English. Everyday he would wake up, take a shower, get dressed and eat a heart healthy breakfast that consisted of bananas and raisin bran. After breakfast he brushed his teeth, flossed, then he grabbed his backpack, lunch money, pencil and his favorite red beanie. As he left the door his mother would always remind him to look both ways before crossing the road or else a car could hit him. Hevateneo always wanted to get to school as quickly as possible but he always took the time to look both ways before crossing the road just like his mother said to do. Hevateneo walked to school all year long. He walked through rain, snow, wind, hail, sleet, frozen rain, monsoons, hurricanes, thunder, lightening, heat, drought, meteor showers, earthquakes, and even wild fires. And everyday no matter what the situation was he always looked both ways before crossing the road. His mother was always so happy to see him come home everyday she made him fresh banana cream pie. One day after school as Hevateneo was leaving school his saw some classmates smoking a cigarette. They saw Hevateneo and invited him over. He did not want to be rude so he went over and asked what they were doing Giovanni Giraffe said that they were just relaxing and smoking a cigarette. When Hevateneo asked why, Giovanni Giraffe simply replied, “All the cool kids are doing it.” Being uncool was the last thing Hevateneo wanted to happen and as long as he looked both ways before he crossed the road his mother surely wouldn’t care. Giovanni Giraffe extended his front leg toward Hevateneo with the cigarette wedged in his hoof. Hevateneo timidly grabbed the cigarette with his thumb and pointer finger. As he brought the cigarette to his lips his eyes closed and he took a long deep breath. He could feel the popularity enter his body. As he went home he felt like a new chimp. He was on top of the world. His regular banana cream pie was extra delicious and he got the best night of sleep he had had ever. The next morning he decided to mix up his routine by having frosted flakes instead of raisin bran. His mother was shocked but understood that having a little variety was a good thing. On his way to school he stopped when he got to the road. He stared straight across the road and lifted his foot but his head instinctively snapped from side to side to see if there were any cars. As usual there were none and he preceded to school. Again after school he saw Giovanni Giraffe smoking a cigarette. Hevateneo took a whole cigarette for himself and finished it quickly. Henrietta Hippo(the prettiest girl in the school) saw him and gave him her phone number. He couldn’t have been happier and as he was walking home he forgot to look both ways before crossing the road and was hit by a Ferrari going 90 miles per hour. His mother went looking for him only to find a dark splotch on the road. She knew it was he because of the little red beanie plastered to the road. She went home, ate an entire banana cream pie by herself and cried herself to sleep.
WA6 final Draft
I lowered my gun in utter disbelief. After months and months of searching we had finally found him. Late night stakeouts, scanning file after file, record after record, photo after photo. I mean the guy had been like a ghost, no fingerprints or hairs were ever found at the crime scene. There were only two things that were ever constants; was the cause of death. All of the victims were choked judging by the marks left on their necks the murder weapon was always the same beaded rope. The second thing was a small trinket stolen from every victim. Nothing valuable, just something the victim had for memories. Other than that we didn’t no anything about him, we didn’t even know his name, heck we didn’t even no if he is a he. I think my partner was beginning to lose his mind. He couldn’t sleep at night. He wasn’t eating. This guy was getting into my partners head like no criminal ever should. My partner was becoming too emotional, he was frustrated and in effect, he became sloppy. He missed way to many opportunities. But there was one opportunity that was not missed. It started about a week ago when an anonymous caller wanted to leave a tip about the “ghost” murders (that’s what this case was called, can you believe that?). This was nothing new we had gotten so many false tips on this case that we almost ignored them completely. Whether it was a drunken high school punk claiming to be the “ghost” or just a random idiot using a corny movie line like “Breadcrumbs, follow the breadcrumbs” we had heard it all. However there was something different about this caller. I don’t know what it was but if I had to guess I would say it was the voice. It was a low raspy voice that spoke cautiously, like it was tiptoeing in a minefield. It said, “the ghost is dying” It paused and then said, “If you wish to catch him, you must let him come to you.” There was a click on the other end of the line and my conversation was over. The next day I received another call, but this time it was from a more familiar voice, my partner. He told me that the investigation was being called off, and marked as a cold case. It was because of lack of evidence and other leads. In immense frustration I went home and took the next few days off. I needed a mental rest after realizing I had spent the past 5 months wasting my time on an unsolvable case. After my break I was walking back to the station when my partner called and said that they had been sent a necklace that matched the marks found on the victims necks. The most valuable on the necklace part of the necklace were the fingerprints of several victims, and an unknown set. We checked to see if the computer had a match for the unknown pair. Sure enough the fingerprints belonged to Mr. Henry Lannes. He had committed small crimes but more importantly had lived in an insane asylum until about three weeks before the first murder. We looked his address on the criminal database. Rushing to his apartment we saw him sitting outside weaving a bead necklace. He glanced up and saw us. His eyes widened and he took off running into his apartment building. We ran after him but he ran like a gazelle. He effortlessly bounded up the stairs and ran into a door on the forth floor. Out of breath and out of shape my partner and I trudged up the stairs. We stumbled into the fourth floor door and looked around. The room was dark and musty. All of the windows had been covered. The air felt thick and heavy. But the air was the least of our problems, the room was a maze of life size clay statues. Upon closer examination my partner realized that many of the statues were the victims. But the truly haunting thing was look of terror the statues faces. My partner began to slowly move into the clay jungle but I quickly said, “Stop, let him come to us.” My partner and I waited in the doorway. It was the most terrifying moment of my life, the man jumped at me out of the shadows. He was unbelievably quick. After knocking me over he took off down the stairs, but before he could get far my partner had shot a single round from his revolver that hit Henry Lannes in the upper thigh. We called for an ambulance as my partner lit up a cigarette. We followed the short trail of blood to a dead end alleyway. When the trail of blood ended there was no Henry Lannes, all that rested on the ground was another beaded necklace. I lowered my gun in utter disbelief.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
WA6 Rough Rough Draft
I lowered my gun in utter disbelief. After months and months of searching we had finally found him. Late night stakeouts, scanning file after file, record after record, photo after photo. I mean the guy had been like a ghost, no fingerprints or hairs were ever found at the crime scene. There were only two things that were ever constants; was the cause of death. All of the victims were choked judging by the marks left on their necks the murder weapon was always the same beaded rope. The second thing was a small trinket stolen from every victim. Nothing valuable, just something the victim had for memories. Other than that we didn’t no anything about him, we didn’t even know his name, heck we didn’t even no if he is a he. I think my partner was beginning to lose his mind. He couldn’t sleep at night. He wasn’t eating. This guy was getting into my partners head like no criminal ever should. My partner was becoming too emotional, he was frustrated and in effect, he became sloppy. He missed way to many opportunities. But there was one opportunity that was not missed. It started about a week ago when an anonymous caller wanted to leave a tip about the “ghost” murders (that’s what this case was called, can you believe that?). This was nothing new we had gotten so many false tips on this case that we almost ignored them completely. Whether it was a drunken high school punk claiming to be the “ghost” or just a random idiot using a corny movie line like “Breadcrumbs, follow the breadcrumbs” we had heard it all. However there was something different about this caller. I don’t know what it was but if I had to guess I would say it was the voice. It was a low raspy voice that spoke cautiously, like it was tiptoeing in a minefield. It said, “the ghost is dying” It paused and then said, “If you wish to catch him, you must let him come to you.” There was a click on the other end of the line and my conversation was over. The next day I received another call, but this time it was from a more familiar voice, my partner. He told me that the investigation was being called off, and marked as a cold case. It was because of lack of evidence and other leads. In immense frustration I went home and took the next few days off. I needed a mental rest after realizing I had spent the past 5 months wasting my time on an unsolvable case. After my break I was walking back to the station when my partner called and said that they had been sent a necklace that matched the marks found on the victims necks. The most valuable on the necklace part of the necklace were the fingerprints of several victims, and an unknown set. We checked to see if the computer had a match for the unknown pair. Sure enough the fingerprints belonged to Mr. Henry Lannes. He had committed small crimes but more importantly had lived in an insane asylum until about three weeks before the first murder. We looked his address on the criminal database. Rushing to his apartment we saw him sitting outside weaving a bead necklace. It was so easy. This couldn’t be him. This wasn’t him. I lowered my gun in utter disbelief.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Wa 5 final draft
Part 1:
This was no dress rehearsal. My perfect day had come. The priest walked by asking if everything was going smoothly. “Yes,” I replied, “and it better stay that way. This is my perfect day and nothing will ruin it for me.”
“Yes ma’am” the priest replied.
“Good” I said turning my head away from him. “Don’t you have some blessings to do or something.” He turned walked away with a swift gait. I stood up and peered around the church. There he was. I walked over to him as he admired his sugar look alike that rested on top of a tremendous wedding cake. “Harold, I need to talk to you.”
“Well if it’s that urgent” he responded.
“It is.” I said. “This is my perfect day. Do you hear me? It’s going to be perfect or else. Do I make myself clear?”
“Y-Yes honey” He stammered. I hesitated for a slight moment, then I left him standing there as I walked back to my dressing room. I needed one final glance into the mirror before the ceremony. Gazing into the mirror I noticed my dress, it was perfect. The sound of an organ resonated through my head. I heard the shuffling of feet into pews. As the shuffling died down and the ceremony was about to commence I heard the church doors open. A It’s late guest ruining my perfect day. Why did the music stop? Whose voice is that? It’s so rough and barbaric. Suddenly an outburst of screams accompanies the sound of a brawl. I open the door and in horror see a disgusting animal mauling my poor Harold. I shriek! The beast is hauled off of Harold. Harold grasps his face and screams. Blood runs down the side of his face and stains the rug. My perfect day is ruined! Everyone is going to pay. I run out of the church tears streaming down my face, freezing and falling into the snow. I run to my car. My perfect day was ruined. I drive away from the church my heart beating furiously.
Part 2:
The cold winter air is stinging at my face. My grimy, matted hair spilling from my skull like pieces of thin, bent wire, scraping all the way down to my gnarled, blackened hands. The only thing that groans more than my stomach is the wind as it rips through my tattered clothing. A heavy snow falls as make my way to the church, a warm place with loving people and plenty of food. While walking up the main stairs to the church entrance the sweet sound of an organ blesses my frostbit ears. Opening the heavy wooden doors brings a rush of warm air filled the aroma of incense. I take a long deep breath of holy air and as I look up a hundred eyes stare at me. There are no welcoming face offering me food and shelter, only eyes that isolate me. A beautiful cake rests on a table tantalizing me. The priest asks me to leave explaining that the wedding is a private gathering. The groom examines me as if I were an animal. That’s what I am to these people. A different species. I tried to explain that I would be quiet and not bother the ceremony. However the groom now enters the conversation commanding me to leave. I became enraged. Distilled hatred, lust, and hopelessness spilling forth from my every orifice. My mind, driven by hate sent a signal to my hands. I lunge at the groom scraping his face with my long filthy fingernails. He begins to push at my face with a soft tender hand. Ravenously I sink my teeth into it, tasting the first meal I have had in days. Many hands grab and restrain me. I resist with the force of a man with nothing to lose. Several men wrestle me to the door and throw me onto the ground. I curl into a ball. I feel a tear freezing on my face and falling into the snow. I lie lonely, hating the animal that I have become and let my cold and loveless heart beat its last beat.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
WA5 draft 2
“Yes ma’am” the priest replied timidly.
“Good” I said turning my head away from him. “Don’t you have some blessings to do or something.” He quickly turned walked away with a swift gait. I stood up and peered around the church. There he was. I walked over to him as he admired his sugar look alike that rested on top of a tremendous wedding cake. “Harold, I need to talk to you.”
“Honey don’t you know it’s bad luck to see the-”
“I need to talk to you” I commanded.
“Well if it’s that urgent” he responded.
“It is.” I said lowering my voice. “This is my perfect day. Do you hear me? My perfect day. It’s going to be perfect or else. Do I make myself clear?”
“Y-Yes honey” He stammered. I hesitated for a slight moment to reinforce the seriousness of the conversation. Then I left him standing there as I walked back to my dressing room. I needed one final glance into the mirror before the ceremony. Gazing into the mirror I noticed my dress, it was perfect, my hair and nails, perfect. My shoes, my earrings, my necklace, everything was perfect! The deep sound of an organ resonated through my head. I heard the shuffling of feet into pews. As the shuffling died down and the ceremony was about to commence I heard the church doors open. Uhg, a late guest ruining my perfect day. It’s probably Harold’s brother, what a slob. Why did the music stop what’s going on? Who’s voice is that? It’s so rough and barbaric. Suddenly an outburst of screams accompanies the sound of a brawl. I open the door and in horror see a disgusting animal mauling my poor Harold. I shriek! The diseased, flea infested, beast is hauled off of Harold. Harold grasps his face and screams. Blood runs down the side of his face and stains the rug. My perfect day is ruined! Harold is going to pay. The priest is going to pay. That animal is going to pay. Everyone is going to pay. I run out of the church tears streaming down my face, freezing and falling into the snow. I run to my car and blast the heat. My perfect day was ruined. I never want to see any of those people ever again. I am so alone. Why did this have to happen to me? My life is over. All I want now is to be alone. Why is everything in life so hard?