Shockproof

I am not a poet. I don't wine and dine over a full course of syllables, tempt to tease with tone, question the alliteration allowed, eat off the well structured plate of imagery. I am not a poet. Poets play patiently with practicalities for every season; for uniform is not the only form - even the spastic have elastic control over the rhetoric of rhyme and reason. I am not a poet. A poet is an ironic thing; two steps longer than a meaningful sentence, three steps short of a base prose, that even a well-placed simile of assonance could not save.

Kovah Setters, Sophomore, Homeroom Most people say that homeroom is useless. I find it relaxing, though. It’s an unproductive period, but it’s a good place to think. There isn’t anything we need to do in homeroom; just sit there and wait for the bell to ring. I guess I take comfort in the moments with no obligations, the moments people mistake for “wastes of time”. Today’s homeroom is quiet as usual. People are always sleepy when they get here. One kid’s even got his head down on his desk. I look at my own desk. The words, Life sucks, are written in blue ink. Why? If it was so important to point out, I don&

Oh, we're so brilliant, aren't we? We're so freaking lovely. We're filled with glowing rainbow pride And we're so pretty it's ugly Our self-made wounds throb with beauty And you'll paint your face with hypocrisy We're everything we're believed to be We're saviors and artists and celebrities We're gulping down ego and inhaling pride We're gestating self-worth in our insides We're icons of envy to all of our peers Self-assured by attention attained all these years I'm something you need and something you're not She's almost so hideous that it's something I want But I did say almost (But you did say want) Oh, we're such liars It

Murdering Mary Sue Every aspiring writer has met her at least once, whether in his own works or in those of others. The alluring temptation of a perfect character taunts the author from one side while his muse urges him to keep writing from the other. Who wouldn't love her? She's the most beautiful, talented, fantastic woman in the universe, with not a flaw in sight. Every woman wants to be her; every man wants to marry her, so why would anyone want to kill her? Who would want to murder Mary Sue? I would. I and many greater authors have been working hard to keep this succubus in her proper place: the trash can. Mary Sue is one of the wors

GOD: Next, please. MAN: Yes, hello again. GOD: I'm sorry, my memory fails me. Which one are you? MAN: Well, I was Martin Fry. GOD: I'm sorry, those records are terminated. What's your number? MAN: Eleven thirty-one. GOD: No, no, not your queue number. Your executive number, the eight-digits. MAN: You expect me to remember that? GOD: Well, it is within the seven plus-minus two limit, which you should achieve if you've reached up to level one. Or, are you the reincarnation? MAN: Yeah, that's right. That's what I wanted to discuss with you. GOD: Did you miss your stop? MAN: No. GOD: I only sent you off a few hours ago.

Josie simply could not comprehend how anyone could believe in love at first sight.  Actually, she could get quite animated about the issue, especially if some unwitting friend dared to say that was how she met Andrew. ‘It was lust at first sight, okay?  LUST!  I fancied him!  He fancied me!  We did not love each other until we knew each other!  You can’t love somebody just on the way they look - I mean, God, how shallow is that?’ It was because of her temper that Andrew wasn’t quite sure whether he really did love Josie for a while, even after she had been in love with him for weeks.  But he got there eventually. They h

Dear Diary, I ate a sandwich today. I realized for the first time that one does not use a spoon to eat them. I was at the deli and I ordered my usual, a turkey breast with salmon, bacon, and teriyaki sauce, sat down and began to eat, spoon in hand. The man next to me turned and said, "You know… You don't use a spoon to eat sandwichs…" This blew me away. All that I had known: destroyed. My world became swirling mist of the unknown. Every fact I thought I knew suddenly came into question. The way of the universe died that day. The man grew concerned about the glazed look I had while I was shaking uncontrollably in my chair. I snapped to, spo

Master of Ravens 1 My little brother is nine years old the first time I decide to kill him. During the night, snow fell over the jagged wreckage of our land. In the morning I realize he will follow me outside if I call to him. Like an awkward-limbed colt he'll stumble through the snowdrifts, and I can leave him to the ice and wind in the shadow of a three-walled building. No one will see me. Our father will think he has gotten lost on his own. I too will cry when they find his body. When the mourning is done, however, I will be my father's true and only son. 'Cam,' he will call to me, and I'll kneel down before him. My father. Master of

He didn’t bother getting out of the car.  For some reason they’d taken to locking the front door, so he couldn’t go in and get her.  He hooted.  She quickly appeared, not looking too cheerful, and got into the car. ‘Only half an hour late this time,’ she said. ‘Hello, darling.  How are you?’ She shrugged.  ‘All right.’ Surely, he thought, she should be getting over this teenage surliness by now.  Things had been rocky between them a few years ago, when she’d developed that temper and taken to screaming at him every time their paths crossed.  Once, she’d slammed the door so hard when s

Jan. 4 Dear Professor ____, I am an inmate here in a prison in ____ and I got your name from an engaging op-ed article of yours in the Times some weeks ago. I am writing to ask if you would please consider arranging a one year subscription to the Times for me. I apologize if you find my request offensive but I enjoy literate material and feel the newspaper an excellent alternative to a college classroom. An inmate here in the facility has a subscription and once in a while an issue will trickle into my hands, which is how I came across your piece and the enclosed order form. I should add that I don't skim through the Times but spend a few