Random Thoughts Blog

            As I slowly approach the end of my senior year I begin think back, back on all the time that I spent in school, and what I would have changed, and what I wouldn’t do differently in any way shape or form. I think about all the times that I may have slacked off, or done something stupid, and wish that I could go back and change it, because I know that doing that would only better my future. I think back to how much I’ve screwed up, and I loathe the decisions that I made, knowing how much better of a person I would be, and how brighter my future would be had I done it differently. Part of me wants to go back and change it all, to live my life again knowing the consequences that would occur if I didn’t do what I should. There’s also part of me that thinks I shouldn’t change a thing, because if I change all those things that I did wrong, who’s to say that worse things wouldn’t arise from that? All the things that I now count myself lucky to have could disappear.

            I sit here and wonder what life will be like once it’s all over, and once all the things that happened in my school years are behind me. Soon all those choices that I made won’t matter at all, except to me, who will always hold them in contempt in my mind. Everyone else will have forgotten, but I will remember. What will change in my life? Will I become a better person than I ever imagined because of those things that I did wrong? Perhaps they will remind me what could happen, and thus scare me into making sure that I never make those mistakes. I may also go down a darker road, one that I wish not to think of, but is surely possible, one that would makes all those who thought highly of me not even want to look at me. I sure hope that no matter what happens I can avoid that path at all costs. No matter what happens, I come at it full on, ready to fight whatever challenge the world may throw at me.

Free write poem

Free Write

A cold stillness lies in the air
The smooth wood gives comfort to resting arms
A chair that’s seen its fair share of days creaks and moans
The gentle click of the keyboard disturbs the silence
Glaring lights fill the would be dark room
Tired eyes manage to crack open in order to continue writing
Exhausted legs enjoy their break from standing
Limp arms relax at the thought of minimal movement
A weary neck rests again the chair back with great pleasure
Words flying through the mind
Trying to make coherent sentences
Only occasionally succeeding
But more often than not creating nonsense
Followed by frantic deleting
At this point it is surprising that words still are formed
This is the life of a working teenager
Hooray for Poetry

Short Story Excerpt

She stepped back from the door just in time to avoid it swinging wide open, after a second of dismay to the door being opened so violently she noticed that Grom was standing in the opening, moving toward her. He began to speak, “Alright then missy, what’s your little boyfriend got planned for you then? Some sort of army coming to rescue you?” He looked and sounded worried, his eyes were full of rage, but a trained observer could see the sense of panic buried beneath.

“I’m sorry; I don’t know what you’re talking about in the least.” She spoke with a calm tone, almost mocking his panicked state; the hints of a grin began to form as she once again noticed his worried tone and demeanor. “Is there something that you wish for me to help you with?”

“Don’t you get sassy with me, I know you’re communicating with him somehow, the fact that I haven’t discovered how yet is irrelevant. I know that you at least have an idea towards what he’s planning, and all this commotion recently has to be the work of that plan.” He was right on one note at least, Alice had been communicating with Will through a complex system of messengers that they had befriended over the years, but she knew that the recent ambush was simply a diversion from the real plan.

“Why Grom, you seem so worried about something, and I wish I could help but I just have no idea what you’re talking about.” To an extent that could be believed, she was rarely informed of events happening around the castle, unless heard through eavesdropping on the guards or if it directly concerned her. They continued to argue for near half an hour until finally Grom had given up, Alice was a beyond talented arguer and he knew that going on like this would simply be a waste of time. He ordered his guards back into their positions and left the tower, heading back to his throne room.

Points of View

A cold breeze blew through the street, winter had reached its peak and it left Halt out in a snowy blizzard. A bright street light was shining above his head, lighting the way down the dark alley, allowing him to not run into any simple obstructions. After a few more minutes of trudging through the deep snow banks, he finally reached his destination, a small hut on the other side of town. It was barely even something anyone would consider a home, but it would certainly suit for the brief meeting that was planned. As he opened the door he saw the charred remains of a fire in the middle of the room, obviously he was later than he expected, but it appears to be fresh enough that he may be able to catch up to them. He went back out into the cold, and could faintly make out a pair of footprints heading to the north, and he began to follow suit.
As he continued to follow them, making sure to keep up pace so that they would not fade into nothing as the snow fell, he couldn’t help but notice the eerie silent stillness of the town. Normally this part of the village was lively, even at this time of night, but he failed to spot even a single other person during his entire trip so far. He pushed the thought aside, as he was determined to catch up to his comrades, knowing that they would not wait for him due to the urgency of their mission. His concern did however rise when he noticed that the snow began to fall even harder and at a much faster rate, if he did not speed up his tracking he would certainly lose the tracks. A gentle jog broke into a full out sprint, he guessed where they would be going and used the tracks merely as reassurance of where they were headed. The tracks were getting more and more distinct in the snow, and then, all of a sudden, they vanished. He quickly stopped to confirm what he was seeing, the tracks had disappeared, had he been tracking anyone other than his friends he would have assumed they had backtracked, but they would certainly have no intention of evading him. As he looked around for an answer, he looked back down the road, and all he could see was a pair of dark, blood red eyes staring him down from the darkness.


I had to do what I could to keep myself warm; the cold air blew against my skin and chilled it to the bone, winter was truly here. The snowstorm that was beginning didn’t help the process either, I was worried I might lose my way, but a bright streetlight illuminated the way for me. I continued on for what I assumed to be about a half mile through the snowy streets, and finally reached my destination, the old shack on the corner. It didn’t seem like much, would made it the perfect place to have our meeting, it needed to be discreet, as we certainly didn’t want the wrong people finding out the wrong things. I opened the door to find an empty room, the smoldering fire pit in the center had been recently extinguished, and I had unfortunately missed the meeting, but I needed to find my associates to find out what was going on. I went back outside into the cold to find a pair of footprints in the snow, my years of tracking coupled with the fact that they had no intention of evading me would make this an easy task.
I began at a reasonable pace, making sure that I was gaining ground but not wasting energy, but as I walked I couldn’t help but notice the utter silence of the town. Normally when I walk through these streets there is a fair amount of commotion, even at night, but now there was not even a light to be found outside of the regular street lights. I dismissed the thought as I knew that I had to focus on catching my friends, I knew they wouldn’t be evading me, but they had no reason to need to wait for me either. I began to worry when I saw that the storm was picking up, the gentle snowfall had turned into an all out blizzard, and I began to start sprinting to make sure that I did not lose the tracks in the snow. I had figured where they would be going, so I merely used the tracks as a way of making sure that I was still right. The path continued true to where I was expecting, when suddenly, they had disappeared, lost into the snow without a hint of their whereabouts. Had they been anyone else I would have suspected backtracking, but they would have no reason to do something like that. I continued to look, until eventually my eyes had locked with something, a pair of dark, bloodshot eyes, staring at me from down the road.

The Road Blog

The dark ridges in the sand suggested a river once flowed through this valley, but the dry, sun-bleached sand suggests otherwise. The pale amber hue of the grains would let one think that a drop of water hasn’t touched any of them in generations, and thus their fiendish luster has faded. The only thing that now breaks the calm serenity is the wind, and steady breeze that comes in from the south and slowly moves grains down the hill until they gather at the bottom to wait for a new force to drive them somewhere new. They find their force. A footprint, made by that of a boot that has seen more than its fair share of days leads to a man, who wishes only to reach the town on the other side of the valley. As he trudges through the loose sand, he unknowingly collects thousands of bits of granules on his boot, but he certainly doesn’t mind. What he does mind is this now blatant object staring him in the face, which seems as if it had been waiting just for him to come and find it.
The glistening object fragment can only be that of a diamond, as its pure luster doesn’t falter, despite the years of sanding down by the winds constant barrage of little pieces of desert sand. The man can not only help but wonder how it got here, as this is not a place where such a rock is common, especially one so fantastically bright and perfect. His best guess is that it was either dropped by a caravan heading to the same place as him, or perhaps it washed down with the river when that once existed. The man picks up the object, and studies it. Its brilliant refraction of light suggests that it was hand crafted by a skillful diamond cutter, and its lack of fading either compliments the rocks toughness, or attributes to its lack of days in the sand. He beings to wonder what an item like this would fetch in the town, he could get a hefty price for such a fine rock. As he thinks, he begins to look around, seeing only barren, dry land around him, with nothing more to compliment it than the occasional rock formation. Then he recalls the sight of the diamond in the sand, as it rested there it seemed so perfect, as if it were meant to be there, letting the ground around it seem all the more memorable by the shining rock that lay to its side. After this, he realizes that the rock belongs here, in the sand, where it may continue its attempts to make such a dull valley pretty.