Daily Writing

Flowers

2-9-12

Authors note: Sorry I forgot one on the previous post but anyway. This is inspired but a true story. Also the names of people besides myself have been taken out, this will prevent drama! Yes teenage girls go through drama. Enjoy,also I was working on word choice in this piece. 


Flowers, they show your love for someone. They show how you feel towards someone. When you think of a school setting up a fundraiser by having students buy carnations and sending them to their friends seems harmless right? No, it's not, this gentle fundraiser can be very hurtful. The pain is directed to me. Last year on the wretched day of Friday, February 17 was a day full of embarrassment, anger and tears. This is how the bullying starts, someone making a small joke or prank towards someone, then snow balling out of control. Someone who will not be named started the snowball effect on me. This person wasted her money buying a carnation, then instead of writing her name on the line she wrote mine.

Like most victims of bullying I asked why? Why would someone I considered a friend do something like that? The worst part of the entire thing was when on the line placed for the name of the person who would receive the devilish flower was someone who was also my friend. We had been fighting like cats and dogs in a jokingly way had finally got along with each other for more than an hour and had gained a new friendship.

Myself being excited for the valentine's dance that would be held after school, was in a particularly good mood like I usually am, went out of the room when the flowers were being delivered. Coming back into the room seeing all of those eyes staring at me wasn't normal. "What's up guys?" I asked, my fellow student just looked at me like a deer in the headlights, then one girl started to smirk and said "Oh I think Kati has a crush on…". The most devastating part was the stare that the boy who had received the flower. I look once, looked away then looked back in astonishment, It had said my name! My name was in the place of where her name should have been. In pure astonishment I looked at him with no answer but words kept babbling out of my mouth. " That, That wasn't me, I.. I would never do that" were just some of the many things that flowed out of my mouth like a river.

The girl who had sent the flower, had previously talked to me, telling me that she had sent a flower from me to someone directly to my face. Being the person I am, I threatened back " Well, I will send one from you to someone!" I said to her with a determined tone in my voice. Then she had started to plead " no, Kati, don't… seriously don't" Trying to be a nice "friend" I didn't.

If you ask people about me they would say something like "Oh, Kati is really confident and doesn't care what other people think". But this day and hour I did, I cared what my peers in resource thought of me. They way they stared at me like I was some sort of animal in a cage was petrifying. The way that the culprit giggled and smiled at me was terrible. Including the fact that she has denied herself sending the blood flower was excruciating.

I moved on, I got over the fact that she had done that was out of my mind, until the student council meeting of February 2nd. The president had announced the carnation sale. My heart sank, it sank into a deep dark part of me that made me want to go home and sleep. I looked over at the girl who had done the dirty deed last year. She was looking at me with a specific look, the look of a tiger who is about to kill a baby gazelle. She started to chuckle, chuckle as though the experience last year was some sort of joke. It wasn't.

Today, was a seemingly normal day. Except for the fact that I had fought a brutal battle with my family and was angry and depressed all morning, I had began to work. Teenage girls email, that's just what we do, I had received and email from a trusted friend this morning. An email that put me over the edge. My friend had told me that in her first hour social studies class the bully was talking, talking about carnations. When my eyes scrolled over the words "Heads up, she might be sending a carnation from you to someone, she had been asking us for ideas" I burst. That is when my barrier of trying to be tough in front of my friends shattered. Tears started to slowly flow down my cheek.

Later in second hour I had finally reached a steady cry, my loving friends who care so much about me (I am blessed to have them), took the initiative I would have never done and took me to the guidance counselor. There I was able to vent and cry without having to put up a show for anybody. I was told news that I needed to hear, our Dean of Students will be talking to the bully and hopefully be put to a stop.

The meaning of this story isn't to hate on the girl. It is to tell everyone that, if something like this happens, tell someone. I know that at our school assemblies they tell us to do that and some just throw the tip over their shoulders and walk away. But this helped me, I have seen progress from this morning's meeting already. Hopefully this girl will be stopped and that this won't ever happen to anyone else. Just remember, tell someone. I told my friends and now I feel so much better.

Kati Kleinhans

Apple trees 

Authors Note: warning, this piece is fiction, this never happened to me so don't worry. Also I am working on voice in this piece. 

 A tree dropping it's leaves, peaceful, quiet. Not a care in the world. Falling leaves are innocent,  as they dance towards the dying grass. I remember being here, My grandfather's orchard. When I was a child I used to race my cousins up the trees and see who could collect the most apples, being the oldest I always won. Then we would take the apples to our grandmother who would bake them into pies, pies that when you tasted them would feel as though you had just bitten into a small piece of heaven. Now my cousins and siblings are grown, I no longer climb those trees.

As I drive up the gravel drive way, the browning leaves on the trees of my childhood only add to the sadness. Today is the day of my grandparents funeral. When I was younger I used to hear our grandparents joke about who would live longer. They never would have expected this, they were sitting on the porch when it happened. My grandmother was quilting and my grandfather was sipping apple cider when a strange van pulled up into the long narrow drive way. A masked menace walked out, asked for their money, they refused. He shot them.

Something like this had never happened in my family before. We are all heartbroken, especially my mother, after their death all my mother does is sit in her room mumbling to herself. My father says it will stop soon but her cries only make my siblings and I sadder. My youngest sibling being only four doesn't fully understand what has just happened and at the funeral he asks, "Mommy, why is Gramma and Grandpa sleeping in those boxes?" No response.  I grabbed him and held him close to me, trying to take his focus off of your dead grandparents. As the service ends, I met people that I have only seen pictures of. They tell you that they are sorry and that they were good people. Trying to stay strong I hold back the tears and nod at what they are saying.

A few weeks later a mug shot of a man is posted on the local news, it was the man that pulled the trigger on the weapon that was responsible for killing my family. When I saw his picture on the TV, angry thoughts raced through my head, thoughts that I would never believed that I could think. Enraged, I punched the TV shattering the screen. I lay on the ground crying, hands bloody and glass everywhere. My father races in screaming "What happened! What's wrong?" as soon as he sees me he picks me up and cradles me. His calming words soothe me " It's okay, you will be okay. They are with God now."

Kati Kleinhans


Mars 
Authors note: this piece I am working on voice and word choice again.

Barren, unknown, a mystery to the world. That’s how I feel right now. I feel as though the whole world knows I am here but doesn't care. I look up in the sky, I see the stars. Glistening, shining seen every night. They are noticed, I want to be a star not mars. At school I walk through the hallways unrecognized to most, this is not how I want to be remembered. I had always dreamed of the future when we show our kids our yearbooks, I wanted to be the one that when they see my picture in a sea of others that they would cry out " I remember her, she was so great".

I have always been shy, when I was in kindergarten I used to sit in the corner with my doll not talking to anyone while the other kids played on the jungle gym and run with toy planes in their hands. My doll was my only friend and In didn't want to make anymore. I felt that I was mars and she was my moon always there for me. Now as I sit here in front of this computer typing these words I feel as though I am the sun. The bright, radiant sun that everyone notices. Sadly this is no reality, these are just words put on paper that only two or if I'm lucky three people will see.

I want to overcome my shyness, I truly do but whenever I walk up to someone, or the teacher calls on me my words seem to get caught on my tongue refusing to only let out gibberish. The mumbled laughs and strange looks only add to the nervousness. My teacher gives me a strange look then ask someone who can manage to get the words out of their mouth.

The only person I can truly talk to is my disabled grandmother, she is blind, in a wheel chair and lives in a retirement home. When I talk to her the words seem to flow out of my like a river into the sea. The best part is, she listens. She listens like I am the only thing that is making any sound. My parents on the other hand don't. It seems as though they can't understand what I am saying and just reply with an innocent "that's nice honey" and move on with their lives. Sometimes I wish that they didn't treat me like I am speaking a foreign language.  I don't see any reason they would pay attention to me, they already have one daughter  that can speak in front of crowds and wants all the attention she can get. I am just the extra child. 

Kati Kleinhans


Trophy

Authors Note: This is a comedic fiction that I wrote based off of the word trophy. Hope you enjoy.

 

Standing on the stage in front of the microphone on a single stand. "I've done it" I think to myself, "I've actually done it" Tonight is the night of the Oscars, on of the most prestigious nights in Hollywood and I am standing here. I stare out into the crowd, glistening eyes stare back at me, the country is looking back at me. I finally mumble words out of my mouth that has been glued into a shocked smile "I don't know where to start, I have so may people to thank but one of the most important people in my career is my mom, first off she gave birth to me, 12 hours of labor paid off right ma!" I did not just say that. I am relieved to hear a roaring laughter from the audience.

I continue with my acceptance speech, "I would also like to thank my agent for finding me through an online recruitment site and taking me all this way". My time is ticking, ten seconds left, "in all" I proceed "everyone has been a great help to me, thank you". As I walk off the stage the host shakes my kisses my hand and leads me away. I walk to my seat and grip my awards as though it was for my life, I had actually done it, best actress award was mine!

As the award show concludes, A final announcement is made "Folks, it seems as though we have another award to give out tonight, Kati Kleinhans Please come up here and accept your second award tonight, ladies and gentlemen, this young woman has also won the "youngest recipient of Best actress award". Is this really happening, not only have I won my first Oscar tonight, but also my second! I pop up from my seat, rushing in my gown. As I reach the stairs I fall, shocked at the fact that I had just fallen and the world is watching I sit up and laugh.  What a night

 

Kati Kleinhans