It was just a typical bright and sunny day. I was cruising down the streets in my brand new shiny red truck. I had just gotten a job at my local fire department and I was so enthusiastic to start work. As I was driving, I didn’t know how it happened. My mind just went absolutely blank. It was so blank that I didn’t realize I was driving into a building and onto the second floor. I was thinking of something else, and suddenly BAM! I look out the driver’s window, and there I am hanging, hanging out of the wall. I heard a crack, and I felt the truck slowly, oh so slowly, falling. I knew that I had to get out. As I scrambled out of the driver’s seat towards the back door, I felt the truck tilt back and forth like a weighing scale. I immediately froze and waited for the truck to stop moving.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that I had gathered quite a crowd down below. People stood on the sidewalk and spilled out onto the street. Some cars even stopped to take a look at the beautiful mess before they had to keep moving because someone honked at them. I could see people murmuring and whispering to each other. They were probably all wondering how the heck I managed to get myself up there, and even I can’t answer that question. I inched slowly to the back door and I could feel the truck slowly shifting with my weight. The truck was so long, that by the time I got 5 or so inches closer to the back door the truck started shaking violently again. I took a deep breath and told myself that it was now or never. I sprinted for the door, and I could feel the truck beneath me thrashing like a fish out of water. I finally got to the door. I pulled with all the power I had left in me but the door wouldn’t budge. The truck was starting slip, so I knew this was my last chance. I kicked the door open and I instantly regretted that. My toe felt like it had been dipped into honey and stuck into a bee hive. I jumped onto the second floor just as truck went tumbling down and crashing onto the street. Luckily the spectators were smart enough to get out of the way and no one was hurt, well except the truck. I lost my job and my toenail that day, but I saved what was most important to me, my life.

“Captain!!” I yelp. “The air brakes and steering has failed. The plane seems to be flying on its own.” Which was true. The fighter jet seemed to be flying on its own. I felt a little apprehensive after flying over what used to be Sagrada Familia. There was a bombing on what used to be the newly built Sagrada Familia church called by President West back in 2023. I didn’t believe in specters or ghosts, nor did I believe in enchantment until this circumstance took place. Many Christian civilians died, in fact, a graveyard appellated Cementerio Sagrada was built in honor of these noncombatants.

After this situation, today, on the last day of President West’s term, he commands to bomb Park Guell. I am just undertaking my order. But the plane is not cooperating. It is almost like auto-pilot, but it is not activated and auto-pilot does not steer. “Captain, do you copy, the plane is stalling towards…Cementerio Sagrada.”

~ Ehmery Hunter, Caretaker of Watchman’s Hill (also called Ehm by some)

It was a sunny morning in the village, some clouds wispy, and some clouds like cotton balls, and the world was still. Until this cat came by and decides to sit on a lion statue in the backyard by the flower garden. But, this statue is not just any large lion statue found around in the mysterious and expansive gardens of Watchman’s Hill. (Speaking of which, there were many. To be exact, thirty three of them.) This large lion statue was the one who guarded the flower gardens and also kept them blooming in all seasons- winter, spring, summer, fall. Of course, there were also other guardians, such as the weeping angel statue that protected the graveyards, which you couldn’t blink or look at unless you were the caretaker, meaning me, or my apprentices, Dess and Lian. There was always the stone crow with the wandering eye, but he didn’t do much except caw and creepily stare at the passerby walking on the flowers, and also the cherub that more often than not fired painful stone arrows if you strayed off the path, but back to the cat now. This cat was spotted by Lian while she was watering the flowers and topiaries. (The guardians don’t do that, though they should…) She said that the cat was white and had black markings that resembled flowers, or more specifically, asters. Well, anyway, that’s what Lian said. There was also another aster-shaped marking on the top of the cat’s forehead.

Jerry is one the most genial kids you will ever meet, while on the other hand, Gary is a very troublesome child. They seem to balance each other out. Always together with no one else on their minds. They always seemed ecstatic and no one was ever sure why. One of their best memories together is the story that is about to be told.

Best friends Jerry and Gary were walking down main street. All by themselves. With no one in site.

“Jerry how would you feel if we snuck into Ms. Patty’s and stole some pies?” Said Gary.

“What the heck! What if we got caught? We could go to jail. I’m only seven. I can’t go to jail now. Please, please don’t make me go. I’m begging you!”

“Aren’t you hungry? You haven’t eaten since lunch. That was five hours ago. And we only had a sandwich. Not even a big one. Come on.” Gary said very, very mischievously.

“I am really hungry. But I’m not sure.”

“Come on!”

“Okay.”

So the two little boys tried to sneak into Ms. Patty’s. They thought deep down and found their inner ninja. They made short choppy movements, but at the same time they were so smooth. When Jerry first saw the one and only worker. He wanted to bolt, but Gary was there to protect him. They kept moving and they stayed hushed because even though there was only one worker, she was petrifying. They were making their way up to the counter. The crawled on their knees around the counter and Jerry accidently hit his foot on the counter. It made a blaring scratching noise. The boys just froze and acted like they were statues. And nothing happened. The one and only worker didn’t even turn around. You are probably wondering how this is even possible, but as I forgot to tell you earlier, the one and only employee had headphones in that I’m guessing were roaring music into her ear and probably causing some damage to them.

They were so close now. All they had to do was make it through one door and then they would be to all of the pies. Ms. Patty’s had a very large door that was heavy and made loud noises as you opened and closed it, so getting through that door was the hardest part. Gary crawled up to it and grabbed the handle. He pulled the door open as cautiously as he could and the worker didn’t even move a muscle. They hurried in and closed the door very cautiously too. The two boys realized that they were in pie heaven and started stuffing their faces with pies.

Creeping down the stairs Dave and José peered around the creaky stairs. Leaning on the railing made loud noises that ran around the hotel in like a high pitched scream. The coast was clear, not a person in sight. The boys took a few steps forward leaning back cautiously looking in every direction. A big silver door was the only thing in-between them and their dreams. José inched his hand forward towards the handle that seemed three times the size of his own hand. The handle slowly turned without a sound, and the door flung open.

Their eyes grew three sizes and their stomachs growled like they have never growled before. They ran to the nearest table and took out a tray of the most delicious cherry pies from the fancy hotel restaurant’s cupboards. They scoop their hands into the pies and grab all that they could possibly hold. They stuff their faces with as much as their cheeks could hold in without bursting. Without thinking they both let out a big “mmmmmm” and keep eating. With each bite they relax a little more forgetting about everything that is happening in reality. Dave looks to the left  to scratch his shoulder with his ear. He sees someone, his ears perk up, his back freezes, his eyes gain a gallon of fear and he knows he is about to be in trouble.

Every day was a day to gather food for the squirrel. He would scurry around and gather nuts and berries and bring them back to his home with the trunk of a grand oak tree. Every day was wake up, run the routs and find the food. Then he would bring them all back to his wooden home. But one day was different. When he awoke from his sleep he scurried out of his home to find little foot prints in the snow. He dismissed these print and kept on moving down the routs for his first batch of nuts.

At the end of the day the little squirrel arrives back home to find pigeons. And yes you herd me correctly, pigeons. There were about 20 of them crowded around the tree that he called home. But being a squirrel in the forest, he didn’t know what pigeons were exactly. So he moves slowly and quietly up to one of the pigeons. Then as he got closer, he grabbed its head and started licking it. Then out of nowhere came this guy and he took a picture at that exact moment.

The vigorous 6-11 left handed pitcher was one pitch away from having a perfect game. 9 innings 26 outs No walks. He was one out away. The pitcher threw a 102 mph fastball for a strike. The crowd was animated.  The second pitch, a 98 mph curve ball that curved too much and hit the batter in the head. The perfect game was ruined. A batter had been walked. The pitcher was enraged . He had just given up his chance for his first career perfect game. He was so enraged that he charged the batter and heaved a punch right his face. The batter was flabbergasted at the pitcher poor sportsmanship. But know he was infuriated too. Without hesitating the batter pummeled the pitcher with two punches and a kick. This started an all-out brawl between the two teams. Each dugouts benches cleared and every team mate ran onto the field and was throwing punches left and right. The umpires where trying to put a stop to the massive scuffle by throwing players out of the game every other second. But this did not nothing. Each player had their mind set to batter the living day out of the opposing team. Soon people from the crowd jumped down from the stands and were running towards the fight. Then….

The truck. A simple truck. It didn’t know what it was in for on the day of the crash. The truck was black and grey, along with everything around it. He had a crisp silver lining at his front, with his rear that seemed to be constructed with already rusted parts. He’s been on a plethora of different jobs, including transportation during the second Great War. Now, after all his adventures and excessive use, he retires as an old truck in Belgium that now is used for transporting building materials. All has been well ever since the war, where he was lit up by a series of rounds from a German G43 Rifle. For his brave service, his driver at the time was rewarded with the truck after the conflict.

He then found himself puttering around in Belgium, then one day, his owner was pulled of the truck on their routine trip through the market. Another man flung into the driver’s seat and pushed down the ignition. They traveled to the top of the market ramp, through the cobblestone buildings, and with all the speed he was forced to muster, the truck was slammed into the wall. After the damages, all he could see was him within a wall, over a marketplace with others looking up at him.

Mama started working in the pastry shop half an hour from our small house in the country, not far from my little elementary school.  Mama told me to go there with my brother after school, to the shop, so that we could go back to my house after the shop was closed up and the pies were all done.  The walk is only half a mile on this thin little old country road.  We walk fast hoping to get there as soon as possible so that maybe mama would give us a snack if she had some let over but we both knew that was unlikely.

I remember when she got the job at the shop.  She was ecstatic about finally getting a real job and a great job at that.  Ever since papa died last year it has been really hard for her to keep up with our small garden, school, and to have enough money to buy clothes for all nine of my siblings.  Mama then tried to get a really job but no one was hiring her because of some nit-picky detail.  When she went in for the interview Mrs. Rose said that she was perfect for the job and mama just light up like a Christmas tree she was so happy.  She loves to work there and is actually happy to go there every day.  We kids now are in charge of the garden and helping her knit but it’s worth it to see her so joyful every morning.

We walk around the corner and heading to the little bakery.  We can see the colorful cakes in the window and we start to get a little jumping from excitement.  We walk in there and the smell hits us like a brick wall all at once. The smell of sugar and dough come off of everything in the small one room bakery.  The fragrance alone is enough to make us go absolutely crazy from the growling coming in the bottom of our stomachs.  It’s hard not to give in and eat everything in the room but mama told us to stay out of the pies because they are for the customers tomorrow.

Before long the perfume coming off of the cherry pies is all that I can think about.  I could smell the cooked cherries, the sugar, the dough and I couldn’t take my eyes off of the beautiful pies.  We haven’t had anything to eat since lunch at our school and our brains knew it.  My eyes were mesmerized and the smell- oh the smell of them was so fantastic.  I couldn’t handle it anymore I needed to taste them.  Just a small bit, no more, I promised myself.  I turned to look at Peter to see if he was watching me.  He’s eye met mine and I could tell he was going mad from the fragrance of the pies to. I slowing walked up to the pies trying not to make any sound, so that mama would come in here.  In one swift motion I suck my finger in the pie and ate just the smallest bit.

The pie tasted just as good as it smelled if not better.  The sweet fruit melted in my mouth and made it impossible for me to think of anything but the pies again.  I had to have more.  Before anyone could stop me I took my whole hand and put it in the pie and brought it to my mouth.  I turned to look and Peter, who was doing the same thing. I didn’t even stop to think for a second I just kept eating and eating the pies handful after handful.

Just like that, the city was engulfed in water. It came out of nowhere. The only warning was the towering shadow coming from the tsunami. It was as if the whole city was frozen. Many cars and people were left stranded, and flailing in the water. We tried to desert the city as quickly and swiftly as possible. But there was no use. It was the end of the road.

It was pure chaos. People were thrusting themselves as hard as they could into the tall buildings but they doors were sealed in order to not get water intruding into the building. All there was to do was wait. Eventually the water will ooze its way out. Right?

It was the last turn in the race. I felt my body go up and down as he was galloping. Betty, was that name of my horse. Only one person in front of me, I’m catching up on him. I pass him on the inside of the turn. I’m on the lead, the finish line ahead of me. Suddenly, a thought came to mind, how many likes would this get? A shot right before a big victory. I hung by the horses neck, hanging there. I pulled out my emergency selfie stick. Facing the horse I said in a soft voice, “Cheese!” Right after, I passed the finish line. The crowd roared.

And the referee blows the whistle to start the game! Today we have the Polar Bears versus the Penguins on the Mansion Stadium. Johnson snaps the ball to Markus. Markus launches the ball at a ferocious speed straight to Neil. Neil turns and sprints vehemently down the sideline, flames practically bursting from his heels. Suddenly, the mansion next to stadium burst into flames, completely engulfing itself in the orange and red tendrils! This game was the final for the Super Bowl 1, so no stopping this game despite the monstrous flames.

Neil continued his run down the sideline as Jefferson comes running in. Neil quickly jumps to the right, sending Jefferson sprawling over the sideline. Neil is almost to the end zone. He runs up to Allen and suddenly contorts his body to the left, then jerks back to the right leaving Allen in the dust. At this point, the firemen have already arrived, unceasing in their efforts to stop the house from burning down.

As I glared at the ever growing wall in front of me, my head throbbed and throbbed as the minuscule blood cells rushed through my brain. I had no idea whether or not to believe the fables of the enchanted wall, yet I still drove the bus towards the brick-stacked structure. My foot was glued down to the pedal and I was rocketing with unimaginable speed and force down the dead-end road. The closer I got to the wall, the more time around me slowed down. It was as if I were imagining the world as a snail. Slowly, slowly I crept and crept closer to the wall. In reality, my speed was ludicrous. Eventually, I was so close to the wall I could almost touch it, at this point, the world in my mind almost seemed to stop in its tracks. Upon collision with the seemingly impenetrable wall. It was instantly made clear that the story of the wall was an old fallacy. The speed of the bus was so high that the wall gave in and the bus the bus penetrated the wall sharply.

It was October the 2nd 2013, and the city of Westville was busy working on constructing their city. They were working on millions of buildings every day. Their moto was that the world needed more cities and less oceans. They would constantly throw their waste into the oceans causing pollutions. This did not bother the citizens at all, all they wanted was their city to be the best it could be. They were greedy and selfish and only cared about money.

Every year many flocks of geese would migrate westwards to Westville for the winter. Every year that they came to Westville they would swim in the oceans and they always enjoyed it. This was a tradition they always maintained. Many generations had been coming to these oceans for years and years. The descendants of many mothers and fathers kept coming back and enjoying the nice weather. But one day when the geese were flourishing in perfect formation westward they came to the oceans and discovered the murky brown, waste cluttered oceans they had loved. The geese were stunned, who could do this to our oceans they thought.

Later that day they geese decided that they needed to do something about this. Animals were looked at as unequal and they believed that that was not okay. This was the most important thing they had ever done as it determined their future and the future of their children.

The very next day, the geese of eastside came together to formulate a plan. They knew they had to make this protest powerful. They didn’t feel very powerful though because they were only animals. The meeting then ended and each member was told to think about what they could do and to discuss it at the next meeting.

The geese thought for many nights and days and then 5 days later they collected themselves and met to discuss their plans. Many members said that they thought they should leave it alone, but the chief was sure that they needed to do something. After all of the geese told their peers their thoughts, the chief told the geese they were hopeless. Many of the geese cried because they felt defeated but one morning the chief geese had an idea. He told the geese they should all fly down to the town and wait there on the ground until the people of the town would see what they wanted. They geese all agreed that they would give it a try.

So the next day they all flew down to the city and gathered around the ocean spreading out almost a mile. The geese stood their but their efforts were worthless so they decided to give up and headed back home.

Here I am with my head in a washer, you may think poorly about my state of mind looking at me now but you will not after I guide you through the path I took to get here. It all started sometime ago when I left my dysfunctional prison that I call home to wash our families laundry down at the Laundromat. As soon as I closed the door to my house I glided down the rustic tile stairs of the apartment complex, in that moment I felt free of this world, gliding to a better tomorrow but when I hit the bottom of the stairs that feeling evaporated instantly. As a pushed I heaved open the heavy iron door that keeps me prisoner complex a tall ominous man dressed like the blackest cat I have ever seen pranced across the street towards me like an angel. I soon realized that I live in the Bronx and when a stranger in pitch black runs at you he is most likely trying to either mug you or mug you then murder you, so I ran. I ran faster than I have before I leaped past the trash cans in the night and I flew over the bumps in the concrete towards the misplaced Laundromat. Going to the Laundromat that is next to a weapons depot has its pros and cons. On a normal day if you were to walk down the street towards a weapon depot as a nine year old, you’d usually get questioned but today was no normal day. I hoped that the man not continue hunt me down when he saw that I was running towards a weapons depot but he pressed on. When I was 30 feet from the Laundromat I turned around to check whether I was still being followed by the suspicious man something hit me hard and that is the last thing I remember. Now I have woken up in a washer in the Laundromat with not even the faintest idea about what happened last night. So there it was not me who was responsible for my head being engulfed in a washer so think again about this picture and don’t forget to……. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH (Slicing noise) (thunk)

She laughed as the wetness slapped her, once, twice. The girl’s pigtails swished as she danced and grinned, and though the mare’s ears were pinned the horse allowed the toddler to stroke her nose. The girl held out her hand, and when the mare tried to nibble on it, gentle as a dove, she squealed as tears of laughter dribbled from her eyes. A woman’s hand reached out to clasp the toddler’s waist, and the girl giggled as she was lifted up. The mare’s head followed, and she slurped her tongue over the girl’s arm before retreating to the calm of her paddock.

“Stop”! What an overrated word. I can’t stand it. People need to stop saying stop! I see and hear the word every single day. I never knew why I always hated that word. But I remember that I hated it since I was a baby. Just like a lot of people have certain words that they can’t stand, well, mine is “stop”. My burning fiery hatred for this word grew and grew over time and I refuse to see it any longer. I have a plan, a really magnificent plan that’ll make my world such a happier place.

People think I’m weird. I’m not that weird. Okay, fine, maybe I’m a little weird. But I can’t help it if I’m different. Let’s be real here, I don’t really have any friends but I do have a best friend named Arnold. Arnold is my computer and I have learned all of my hacks from this very big “box”. I have always been a technology wizard. I grew up as the daughter of two successful engineers; who I guess, transferred their passion and knowledge of technology to me. I could literally hack into the Pentagon and steal all of their information if I wanted to but I tried to do that once and my mom grounded me.

Today is finally the day. November 3^rd. The day of my birthday and the happiest day of my life. I will never have to see the word ever again… That is, if no one ever says the word again. A quarter past 8 PM arrived and I immediately hopped onto my trusty computer. I first hacked the traffic control server which had access to the stop signs in the entire city. That’s right, I said the entire city. I cautiously logged into the city traffic control control centers and switched around the letters to Halt. Oh no! I quickly realized that it wouldn’t let me as “error” blinked on and off on the screen. “5 – 4 – 3 “, the screen read as it was going to turn off in just two seconds. I didn’t have enough time to switch all the letters, the only thing I could do, was change “s-t-o-p” into “s-t-p-o”.

I thought that my master plan would work, but who knew the traffic stop signs were more safe than the Pentagon? Oh well, at least stpo is better than stop!

After their long swim in the lake, the tiny cygnets clambered up onto their mothers back, and rested while she paddled them hastily back to their island in the middle of the lake. Once they got back to the small island, each of the cygnets sprung off, and went to lay down. Once each and every one of the cygnets had gone to sleep, the mother went off to go get food, on the threatening streets of Chicago. At one point on her expedition for food, the mother came close, oh so close, to a car that was zooming past at high speeds. After that near fatal collision, the mother swan was very suspicious of everything, every little thing, that she saw. For the next hour, she looked for food, and when she found it, she decided to go back to her little baby cygnets. On her way back, she had another startling miss with a train. This time though, she wasn't quite as lucky, and a couple of feathers were plucked off, and drifted away after the train. When she got back to her babies, she decided to never go back to that terrible area in the city.

He walks on ice. A tall dark figure and his familiar cadence. 3 long strides, 7 small steps. Every morning at 7 o’clock without fail there he is. 3 long strides, 7 small steps. Never breaking the pattern not as the day grows longer. Not as the Texaco Wisconsin looms behind him. A daunting dark, shape just off his left vision. Does he know of the Texaco Wisconsin? I’ll never know. I have never stopped this ship to ask him.

The Texaco soldiers on its path. As the man walks in between the thin leveless trees. The result of some artic phenomena, I am sure. I stare, in pensive thought towards the monotonous view of winter white ice, as the Texaco Wisconsin continues its tedious journey onward. Who is the man? Why is he here? Where is he going? Thoughts cloud my mind. However, I’ll never know. I have never stopped this ship to ask him. And I never will.

The wind howled ferociously into the night as swirling snowflakes danced through the crisp air. The usually bustling street was vacant, yet felt filled to the brim with an eerie silence. It felt almost as if the breath of everyone in the city was being held; as though they were huddled in the safety of their homes. Watching. Wondering. Waiting. Like they knew that something was about to happen. A small figure now appeared out from the shadows of a lengthy, dark alleyway. As it drew closer, it uttered a small mewing sound like that of a cat- yes, a cat it appeared to be. He grimaced and turned his head away from the driving, powerful wind as he staggered forward; the tremendous force of the gale nearly knocking him to the ground several times. The frost bit at his paws and nose until he could barely feel them. The bitter cold forced him to squint his water-filled eyes until he could hardly see at all; so that the world was all a blur. He desperately wanted this all to be a dream. He wanted to wake up to a warm bed and satisfying- really filling meal… something he hadn’t had the fortune of having in a long time. His whole body ached. Every breath, every step was a tremendous effort. His thin, white tail and back legs lay limp on the ground as they were dragged forward by the last bit of will he had in him. He wanted- he needed to stop; but he pressed forward. After what must have felt like an eternity, he reached a large set of stone steps. With a deep shuddering breath, he began to climb up; digging his claws into small patches of ice so he could pull himself up to the next step. Two colossal statues towered over him as he came to the last step. He lurched himself forward toward the nearest statue- a lion. He curled up into a tight ball between the lion’s gigantic paws. As soon as he rested his heavy head on his own paws, he fell asleep and the deep, aching cold he felt all the way in his bones immediately washed away.

The Baseball War

The pitch grew closer and closer. He could now clearly see that the ball was going to strike him in the sides, and he knew that it was done with full intention of doing so by the pitcher. As the ball forcefully crashed into his ribs, he winced in pain, which quickly turned into a feeling of utter contempt that started in the lower depths of his soul, and soon came to a boiling point. With a look of pure loathing in his eyes, he charged straight at the pitcher’s mound, and as he swung with a vigor that he had never felt before, his punch connected with the pitcher’s lower jaw, causing him to crumple to the ground. As he was about to take advantage of the now prone pitcher, he was grabbed from behind, and the full-on war between the two teams began.

Lt. Smith had two more weeks until he was done in the air force. We as so  jubilant to come home to his wife and kids, he felt as if he was walking on cloud nine. He has been serving for 2 years and has only shot down one plane. He was on his way through the country side only 1,000 yards up, before he was engaged by a whole wave of enemy fighters. He dove quickly to 300 yards and soon began to rise and attack from underneath like a shark does to a seal. One down. Two down. Lt. Smith was so ecstatic to see he had taken out 1/8 of the pilots. He turned his head around and was filled with terror as he saw over 300 30 mm bullets coming at his plane. One hit his right wing. Two hit the left wing. Then it stops. He flies through some clouds and turns around to see his end. Four though his cabin. He started to lose cabin pressure. Then only on shot hit his propeller and he knew where it was heading. As he started his nose dive he took two more enemy planes with him. He took out the picture of his family from his wallet one more time. He was closing in promptly on the graveyard below him. He said one finally word. The name of his wife.

For 38 monotonous years I have lived here in the Arctic Ocean. I have been through it all and seen some pretty insane things in my day. I have 43 children that have grown up and now have families of their own. I invested more than half my life to them and taught them all I know. I now feel as if I have nothing to do, they were my everything. I am now feeling lonely and bored, just waiting for the day I die.

As I lie on this gate and gaze at the beautiful scenery around me, out of the corner of my eye I see something astounding. She was perched on a glacier with the sun beaming off of her. I had never seen such an elegant walrus in my life. I decided to swim over and introduce myself, we ended up talking all night. The whole night I was grinning from ear to ear.  It was one of the most perfect days I have had in a while. We now meet at the gate every day to look at the scenery and talk. I have a new found beginning in my life and I am elated for the future.

He is nearing the finish line, galloping with all of his might. He sees a horse coming up in spitting distance behind him. His big brown eyes, the color of bitter dark chocolate, untouched morning coffee, and dusted with hazel, glimpse the end of the track. All he ponders is the training, pain, sweat, and blood, “is it all for nothing?”

He only has to focus on what he came here to do: Win. His jockey pushes him to his limits. Pushing so hard, the jockey gets propelled from the stirrups, plummeting to the ground. He quickly latches his arms around the horse’s neck, grasping to stay on. There’s no time to pull himself back up, so he just dangles there, desperately, oh so desperately. By this point the two horses are neck to sweaty neck. One horse pulls forward, then the other pulls ahead. This game continues until the final step of the race. The finish is going to come down to the tips of the horses noses. The jockey knows if he falls, he will be disqualified, and everything will be over. He makes one last decision to toss his feet over the finish line, bounding after they cross.

The many sounds of yelling and sirens woke me from my deep, deep sleep. What time is it? What is happening? Is this a dream? Dozens of questions flew into my head which left my half-awake self extremely puzzled. Its 6:14 am, one minute before my alarm was set to go off, I prepared myself to swiftly turn it off to avoid that loud obnoxious buzzing noise. I was still confused as to why all of the chaotic noises were around me, but then I peered out my window to see a heavy stream of water rushing down through the largest street in town. Mobs of fearful people were pulling their children and loved ones to safer areas on the streets and calling for help, but it was right then that I realized that I was one of the people they were crying for. As a police officer it is to help keep everyone safe, and it was my time to help people in the way I had been training to do for years. Once I had finally gotten dressed and out the door, I had to use my inner leader and direct everyone to the safest possible place. I stood where I always stand every day of the year, on the corner of the street. Familiar faces flashed past me. The happiest environment turned into nothing but an environment resembling a nightmare. Hours passed, and the scattered people gathered into one large crowd, except for me, I stood as still as a statue risking my life in what had seemed a bottomless pit water. The rain continued and by the time it was 6:00 pm, it was hardly sprinkling. An empty stomach. Drenched from head to toe in water. Sanding on the corner of the street, all alone.

The sun arrived. The rain disappeared. The people appeared. The mess was created all from water. Slowly but surely- surely, the city came back to life. Fixing one thing at a time. The buildings were refurbished and lives were put back together. I was able to see everything get put back together. I saw new lives being assembled. I saw old lives being completed. Standing from that one corner.

Lewis was overflowing with excitement. It was his favorite- absolute favorite holiday. St. Patrick’s Day. The air was crisp and it had a buzz to it as if it was electric. Lewis’s home town was sitting on a hill that over looked beautiful lakes, rolling hills and a lush forest. Earlier this morning he had stepped outside and found a four leaf clover. To see a leprechaun was his one wish. Soon after, Lewis and his family headed downtown for the big parade. Every short green object was closely-oh so closely- inspected by Lewis so the he was sure they weren’t leprechauns.  They finally reached the main square and settled in for the show. Only after most of the town was there did the parade begin.

Dancers in green performed cartwheels and flips as they moved down the cobblestone streets. Next came the floats. Giant four leaf clovers soared through the air. The crowd cheered and cheered and cheered. Lewis was the only one who failed to cheer for he was too busy searching for leprechauns. The next float was a humungous green top hat with a shiny, golden ring around it. Suddenly, Lewis sprinted out into the middle of the road. He had no care for the parade for all of his attention was fixed on finding little men in green suits. He peered high into the sky and looked inside the hat for hiding leprechauns. There were none. Only a few steps behind, Lewis’ mother ran into the road and scooped him up off the ground. The look- that evil look- on his mother’s face dared him to do it again. Lewis slumped his shoulders and let his mother drag him off to the side. The parade was approaching its last event, but Lewis had yet to find a leprechaun.

The last part of the parade was a traditional song performed by kilted men playing the bagpipes. The sound of the music was almost louder than the crowd’s cheers. The cobblestone road thundered as the men marched down the road. They were led by a leprechaun. A short happy leprechaun. ‘Real or not real?’ was the only thing that was going through Lewis’ mind. Real or not real? He failed to come up with an answer. It would be risky to run again but he decided his wish might depend on this very moment. He stepped slowly- oh so slowly- onto the street and looked around. Nobody had noticed him yet. He broke out of the crowd and ran. And ran. Straight towards the leprechaun. The poor leprechaun was being chased by Lewis who was being chased by his mom who was being chased by a policeman. Lewis reached out to grab the leprechaun. He was close- so close- to grabbing him. But just as he swiped the leprechauns scampered up a bagpiper’s tree trunk legs. Lewis grabbed the man’s kilt and pulled it back so that he could look for his leprechaun. There was no leprechaun! ‘How could it be?’ Lewis thought to himself. He then turned around and saw his mother quickly approaching him. He turned around again and ran off like he’d been shot out of a cannon. Lewis ran for about two feet before he ran right into a musician that was playing the bagpipes. Down he fell, like a rock tumbling off a cliff. As soon as Lewis hit the ground his mother picked him up. She took him straight home and put him in timeout. He was so mad- no not mad, he was furious. Finally Lewis slowly drifted into a deep, deep sleep, where he found his leprechaun floating on a four leaf clover in the hands of a tall, kilt-wearing bag pipe player.