Untitled

Untitled

It only looks perfect in the postcards. I stand before a town sign saying, “Welcome to Hallowed Hills! Population: 17,871.” The sign seems awfully cheerful considering all of the things I've heard about Hallowed Hills. Or maybe it’s just my bad mood; I did just get into a car wreck. I couldn't see the bloody road ahead of me for all of the fog and I ended up slamming my car into a bloody tree! Bloody ‘ell!

The fog is so bloody thick I can’t see ten meters ahead of me. But, my job forces me to be here. Y’see, I’m a psychologist. I've been working at a local asylum trying to figure out the cause of mental breakdown in a group of patients. While their causes were mostly different, every single one of ‘em had one thing in common: they all visited Hallowed Hills right before their mental breakdown. I couldn't figure out the significance of it, though; any time I brought up Hallowed Hills, they’d all faint or have a seizure.

So, with the intent of finding out more about this breakdown, I've traveled to the mountain resort town of Hallowed Hills. I already have a headache from this. This trip is going to be wonderful indeed.

I walk passed the sign, leaving my totaled car behind. Maybe I can find someone in town who can tell me where I can find a tow truck; I can’t call for one, my phone was smashed in the crash. I really wish I brought with me my jacket, the air is like ice. It’s almost solid, like it’s trying to keep me out. I huddle inside my shirt and walk on.

I notice that the road would continue ahead through a tunnel, if it weren't blocked off by a chain-link fence. It covers the entire tunnel entrance; I couldn't climb over even if I wanted to.

That’s just bloody great; I’ll have to wander in this fog until I’m in the town proper. Nearby is a gas station with a fairly small parking lot. On one end of the lot is a staircase leading down the mountainside. This way must lead to town. There’s no other reason for its existence. I walk there, slowly descending the mountain. I notice something strange; as the fog gets thicker, the air gets warmer.

I hope I don’t end up falling off the mountainside. The fog is too thick to see even five meters ahead now. The edge of the mountain could come sneaking up on me. I walk along the twisting path down the mountain. The air is no longer cold, and the fog is letting up a little, too. As I walk, I find myself in a graveyard. There is someone standing before me, her back to me.

“Excuse me!” I call out. She turns to me. “This one has a few questions, that I do,” I say with my somewhat unfortunate idiosyncrasies. The lady cocks her head to one side.

“Questions…?” she asks slowly.

“Er… Yes. This one just wants to know…” I think only one question is a good idea for know, but what? “… just wants to know… What is with this fog? There is no lake or river nearby, that there isn't.”

“The… fog…?” she thinks. “Oh! Yes, the fog! That’s just the town’s way of saying ‘Hello!’”

What is this? I don’t even… “Is that all? This one thanks you, that I do.” I walk past her, uncertain of what she meant. She seems like she’d be a regular at my place of employ. A white sweater and red jeans, she looks a little weird and out of place. As I walk through the cemetery, I hear her call out, “Bu-bye, Mister!!”

First a car crash, then thick fog, and now a grown woman talking like a small child. I can’t but think that time is moving slower. I walk through the opposite gate of the cemetery and finally find my way into the town proper. It seems like days have passed, when the reality is that it has only been about fifteen minutes. The fog is still persistent in town.

I see another figure ahead, shrouded in fog. I call out to it, but it shuffles away. I head towards it. It couldn't have moved very far or very fast, but it somehow disappeared. As I follow the road, I start to hear sounds behind me. They’re difficult to make out. Some sound like growling, some like claws against pavement, some sound like laughing, some sound like crying. I check behind me, but there’s nothing there.

I turn back, and there’s a streak of blood across the street. The blood wasn't there before. It seeps from a rusty old car and trails off further down the street, into the fog. That shuffling figure from before is standing there, waiting. I call out to it again, but it shuffles away again. I’m starting to understand why all of those patients pointed this place out. I need to leave this town.

I turn and run back. I’m overcome with an irrational fear. This town, with its randomly appearing bloodstains… I rush and run through the fog back the way I came. The fog suddenly vanishes with a load, unholy growling echoing behind me. In front of me, where the road once was, there remains only a gap. An abyss, I can’t see the bottom. What’s more, the growling I heard before has caught up.

Bloody ‘ell…

To be continued…

This is Halloween

This is Halloween

 

 

My favorite Halloween was the time I got a new pet. We only kept the pet for a few hours, but it was still amazing. One day, many years ago, there was a strange noise coming from the upstairs bathroom of my house. Walking in, there was something small in the bathtub. I later found out it was a bat. A small, little flying bat was sleeping in my bathtub. It stayed with us for a few hours until it flew out an open window. I really enjoyed Halloween that year, more than I normally do. Now that’s saying something.

 

My favorite Halloween treat is real ginger bread. Not that Christmas cookie in the shape of a person or a house, I mean real ginger bread. My family has an old recipe for it that I can’t remember off the top of my head. This ginger bread is like any other kind of bread, but it’s just so good. As for ones I’ve received, I don’t really have an answer to that. I always get enough candy to make myself sick, and then I don’t remember which piece I had first. I’m that guy who always has his favorite piece first, and I can’t ever remember which ones I started off with.

 

I don’t really remember all of my Halloween costumes. I’ve slept since the times I’ve worn them. But I do remember a few. One year I went as a ninja, once as a zombie/clown thing, once as an undead warrior, and this year I’m going as a Spartan. If I had to pick my favorite costume, I’d have to say the Spartan. In addition to the armor that makes up the costume, I have a horse head mask that I’ll wear and a foam battle axe. This costume is supposed to be something along the lines of the Minotaur’s cousin, or something like that. In all actuality, my favorite Halloween costume is the most recent one I wear or will wear.

 

The best costume I ever wore was actually one I haven’t worn yet. It’s this year’s costume. I always try to outdo myself each year. This year I got a costume that looks like Spartan armor. Then I got this mask that’s supposed to be the head of a horse. I also got a brutal looking foam battle axe. My goal was to create something unique, something that nobody else would think of. So I created what is essentially like the Minotaur from Greek mythology, only with a horse’s head instead of a bull’s head. I almost want to ditch my friends this year just to see how many people I can scare. That’s what makes Halloween so great; you can terrify as many people as you want and nobody will even raise an eyebrow, so to speak.

Music, Music, on the Radio...

Music, Music, on the Radio...

Question 1) When you listen to music, what feelings/emotions does it evoke?

 It depends on the emotion behind the song. A sad song will inspire sadness, while a heroic song will inspire feelings of courage.

Question 2) What is your favorite song? Why? Is it connected to a certain time, event, or place?

While I don't like playing favorites, I do have a good answer to this. The song is called Dream of the Sky, by Miracle of Sound. This is a lengthy song at around six minutes and thirty seconds. It's a song about the video game Bioshock Infinite. It's my favorite song because it inspires so many different emotions and thoughts. This song will always be connected to the time when I got the game last summer and stayed up for three days straight until I beat it.

Question 3) How has your taste in music changed over the years?

My taste in music changes a little whenever my friends change. Whether it's new friends or losing friends or friends becoming different, my taste in music will change slightly. However, the major part of it will never change. Nothing will happen to make me dislike Sum 41. My theme song is Underclass Hero by them.

Question 4) Why do you gravitate towards certain types of music? Why do you dislike certain types of music?

I gravitate towards certain type of music because, simply, music is important to me. I dislike certypes of music because they make my ears bleed.

Question 6) Without music the world would be...

A quiet and boring place. Music holds an important role in story telling as well as in history. Without music, life would be so dull.

Question 8) I admire the music of ___ because they...

I admire the music of Miracle of Sound because it is a band of one. The guy in charge of it, Gavin Dunne, writes all of the music and lyrics. Then, he performs on each instrument and sings it out in different octaves. When he's finished, he mixes and masters the song until it is what it is. The songs sound very professionally done, like they were performed by a group of people, when the reality is that only one person is doing everything.

Memoirs

6-Worded Memoirs

 

 

Reece Martin

Glues quarters to the ground sometimes

 

Robin Martin

A nice woman geeked at birth

 

Chris Stacy

Vlad the Impaler's biggest American fan

 

Alex Fithin

A friend through thick and thin

 

Gavin Dunne

Miracle of Sound, the one-man band

 

Amy Luong

Amazing artist and hilarious person

Window of Poem

Window of Poem

 

Out the window I see a weeping willow tree whose leaves barely avoid the ground

To the left of what I see there is a pile of oak leaves. Even rustled by the wind, they rest without sound

However, today something is off. the leaves are all gone, all removed. in their place is a big black trash bag. stuffed and round

This happens with the changing of the seasons. Sometimes I split the bag. Once, there was something inside worth being found

Outside now I see a frog with a leaf atop his head. The stretched shadow appears as a prince crowned

In the distance I see an old tree; I can't tell the type. Close up I see an open book; I can't see the text. I hope it's something profound

Nighthawks

Nighthawks by Edward Hopper, recreated by the marvel that is Legos

This is the original version of Nighthawks by Edward Hopper. I don't recall if we had to choose on of the four works we discussed in class, or if we could just choose one of his works in general. So here's my story.

A man in a suit walks in. He sits at the counter. With a bored expression, he orders a cup of coffee and a slice of apple pie with a slice of cheese on top. Lots of people on the road order that; it gives them everything in a meal a man could ask for.

I serve him as he pays the bill. The lady over near the corner asks the man, "What's with the guitar?"

With a sigh like he's asked this a thousand times a day he says, "I'm a travelling musician." As proof, he picks up the acoustic and plays a short riff.

The other guy there, the one sitting next to the lady, says, "Hey, that's pretty good. What else do you know?"

The man pulls a quarter from his pocket. Using it as a guitar pick, he plays that old song Amazing Grace.

When he's finished, I give him back his cash, saying the meal's on the house.

With a weak smile, he eats, says his thanks, then walks out the diner. He must have skipped town; I never saw him again.

Now, as promised by the title, here's the Lego version of Nighthawks.

Pretty close to the original, huh?

Grasp at the Future

Reach for the stars, Grasp at the future

I can't for the life of me remember that presentation on careers in the arts from whatever Monday it was on. However, I can answer the other parts of this assignment. What I can see myself doing in one year is travelling all across the United States with some of my friends. We plan on going on a road trip. It truly doesn't matter where we go, we just want to travel. If we either don't know or don't care where we're going, it doesn't matter what path we take; we'll get there regardless.

In five years time, I ought to be finishing up in college. At twenty-three years of age, it should be around the time I have a wife, though that remains to be seen. I'll also be applying for a job somewhere to become a voice actor. There will never be a shortage of work down that career path.

In ten years time, at twenty-eight, I hope to have a little child running around, causing trouble the same way I did. Hopefully I'll have earned enough from voice acting that I can afford to have my own house built. I'd buy a plot of land outside a city, then have construction workers build a mansion extremely-very similar to the mansion from the remade version of the first Resident Evil game. Surrounding the mansion would be a forest of maple trees, whose leaves are always orange, creating an eternally autumnal forest. This is best, and least zombie-infested, image of that mansion I could find.

And finally, in fifty years time, at sixty-eight, I expect to be retired and living the rest of my life peacefully in this autumnal world I've created. It's a simple kind of life, one that anyone could do if they really wanted to. But it's my life, and there isn't anything in this, or any other, world that can stop my from achieving this dream.

The Pillow Drawing

The Pillow Drawing

Glowing spirit wolf

Relaxed, half-formed guardian

Brilliant blue beast

          That above haiku was what I got when I described the drawing of that pillow. When we were looking at that drawing, I noticed the wrinkles before I noticed what they were on. What I saw in those wrinkles looked like a wolf-like creature. It looked like it was there, but at the same time not, kind of like it was some kind of spirit. Knowing that wolfs were domesticated to protect children while adults were away- one reason why domestic dogs exist today- I decided to make the wolf-spirit-thing into a guardian.

Art Print

Not quite the art print I looked at, but what the hey? It's close enough.

          Looking at the original art print I was reminded of both coffee and camouflage. I do, in fact, think of both of these on a daily basis. My favorite drink is coffee. I have it literally every day. My favorite of which is the Sumatran Mandheling coffee I heard from a show. The show is one of my favorite Halloween time show, Soul Eater. The coffee is so good, according to the show, that it made one of the characters just by him remembering it. So, I had to try it out.

          I think of camo most days because my over-shirt is a shadow pattern. It's black, grey, and silver. I think of it because I sneak up on my friends a lot without meaning to and they call me a ninja. A synonym for ninja is shadow warrior, and my over-shirt is a shadow pattern, so I end up thinking of my camo shirt a lot.

Here's my tonka poem we had to write about the art prints.

Camo of coffee

Hidden under dark and shrub

Brown and black shadow

Neutral colors that only

Are ignored, thought of as dull