Monday, April 1, 2019

Around the Corner with Sarah Joe and Time Travel

Around the Corner

There was an abandoned hospital. Full of rooms full of beds. The hospital had a cafeteria. And a closet. They say this closet was peculiar. Haunted, even. That it could only be seen at 3 am in the night. Many say people disappeared. Janitors. Nurses. Patients.
Reann Lizby, a curious woman, decided she should explore this place. Maybe, even be the first to document a true mystery. Reann slipped on her raincoat and walked through the muddy grass, until she reached the hospital gate. After a tedious climb she finally jumps into the jurisdiction of the hospital. A walk later, she arrives at a huge entrance. The woman looks through the dirty, stained glass windows. Just a long hallway with rooms. Lots and lots of rooms. She manages to pry the door open and an outburst of dust greets her. Reann steps into the hospital her portable video camera in hand. “This, as you can see, is Blightworth Government Hospital, 50 years later.” she says to her viewers. “Legend has it that, 60% of patients died here for unknown reasons, and they were buried under the ground at the entrance…” Reann walks through the empty corridors until she stops
Around the corner there is a shadow. It looked to be of a child’s. A little girl. Clutching something to her chest. Reann focused the camera as the shadow got closer, and closer. Suddenly, there is a high pitched scream. The silhouette chases Reann out of the hospital, and Reann leaves to the sound of a small girl crying. Reann later went to her apartment and slept.
Reann Lizby did not wake up the next morning. Her death cause was undetermined.
Her video went viral and no one ever knew what happened to her…



Sarah Joe
Sarah Jolene was a 6 year old child.  She was known as Sarah Joe. She was alive around in the 1960s. The little girl was very energetic and would never leave anywhere without her teddy bear, Mr. Cuddles. Around January 1969, Sarah had been diagnosed with the flu. She was sick and did not stop vomiting. As the parents made their way to the hospital, Sarah dropped her bear, and it was run over by an automobile. Mr. Cuddles did not make it. Bawling her eyes out, she walked to the hospital for her daily checkup. At the office, Sarah suddenly started screaming and was hospitalized overnight. Every night at exactly 3:13 am, Sarah Joe started screaming. The moment the clock struck 3:15 she would stop. Doctors and nurses tried everything including, stuffing saline towels into her mouth, but Sarah would not stop. One early morning the screaming stopped before the time. Sarah had died in her sleep. Her body was buried but then discreetly cremated.
Legend has it that she roams the hospital at night at exactly 3 am, clutching her late teddy bear. She screams at exactly 3:13 and stops at 3:15. Many people have see her and every single one of them have died in their sleep

Time Travel
I am a journalist. An aspiring journalist, some would say. Nevertheless, I am a journalist. Us j Journalists; we have a hard job. Always trying to find the next story that will be on everyone’s phones the next day. We journalists try to strive within this world that demands for more and more news. Sometimes, our jobs get dangerous. Really dangerous.
My name is Lyra. The year is 2153. It’s well into the future and it sure is futuristic. Yet, the practice of journalism never ended. We are a highly paid career. I struggle, really I do, to find riveting stories. For months, I’ve been researching Blightworth Government Hospital. It was a hospital around in the 1960s. Almost as old as my late great-grandmother Reann. My grandmother was also a journalist and she had documented the hospital. The footage was uploaded and became one of the most viewed videos in the world. My grandmother later died that night in her sleep. My family was angered that an autopsy wasn’t performed and that she was buried quickly. I never got to see her.
I’m here to live her legacy, and become the first journalist to document Blightworth and survive.

It is night. Here I am at my apartment contemplating whether this is safe or not. This is going to change Journalism forever! I make up my mind and put on a coat as my drone follows me.


DIsney Song School Parodies


History Sucks! - To the tune of  "Under the Sea" from The Little Mermaid


I just need to do this homework
I really hate history
When will I complete this homework
It’s really a mystery
Who cares about Wars and Congress?
I’d rather go jump off a cliff
And if you like U.S history,
You should go jump off a cliff
History SUCKS! (x2)
Forget Thomas Jefferson and Washington
History Sucks!
Tired of Wars and Peace treaties.
Mr. Teacher could you shut up, please?
When will I graduate
This class I hate
History Sucks


I will fail!- To the tune of "Let It Go" from Frozen

Friction, mass, volume, and crap
Science is oh so ACK
The formula for pi
wait a second  i think that’s math
Why do I have to sit here in this stuffy room
Couldn’t get an A
So I’m stuck in doom

I am so bored
I want to leave
Be the smart kid you’ll never ever be

All wrongs and wrongs
Someone help me!
I want to leave!

I will fail (x2)
I hate all of my classmates
I will fail (x2)
I really need a good grade
But, I don't care
What the teacher has to say
Let my grades go down
I don't think I will ever get an A

* My inspiration is Jon Cozart from "Paint" ( a YouTube channel) 
~ He makes really funny parodies so I decided to try my hand at a few. Hope you like them! :3



Brussels Sprouts
Disgustingly green Brussel sprouts
How on Earth did you end up on this planet?

A drink in my hand
To help me choke down this disgusting sand
Probably gonna feed it to the dog.















And The Story Goes On...

Manushree
I didn’t realize that the window was open. Or that my closet door was open. I kept hearing whispers and I kept seeing shadows. Maybe a red eye or two. I’m not scared. I’m not scared. My mind is just playing tricks on me. Being home alone is not scary. It’s just my inventive imagination. I imagine Spongebob with his “Imagination” rainbow. This brings some light in me. That is until I hear the door slam.
L.A.- I got up to look around, and, as bad as I wanted to get back in bed, I left my room to go find what made that sound. I saw someone moving down the stairs and into my living room. I went down to where they were, but they had already gotten outside.
“Hey!” I yelled at them, “Get away!”
They did as they were told, but once I had gotten back to bed, nervous and calming down enough to call the police, I heard another slam downstairs. AW- The phone rang and rang, the tones that normally set me on edge now a calming whisper. It rang. And rang. Then it picked up. I started telling my story as loudly as I dared. There was no response. Only static. I imagine Spongebob again. Not helping. I am suddenly finding it hard to forget all the horror movies I watched through my hands. If this is a horror movie, then being dumb gets you killed. Just think. Just think, and you won’t die. Horror movie protagonists would normally go and investigate. That’s dumb. Don’t do that.
GW- So I decided I would go back to my bed and hide under the covers. That was the smart thing to do. I ran into my room and under my covers. I lay there, hoping that soon my mom would come home from work, and soon I would not be alone, and everything that I am hearing and seeing will be gone, because they were just my imagination. They are just my imagination I told myself. I said it over and over and over hoping that if I said it enough, I would actually believe it.
MN- Somehow, I make it through the night, and the moment my ears hear the garage open, I rush downstairs. I don’t care that was Mom was extremely late. I’m just happy she’s finally here! I swing open the door as it slams the washing machine.
I was expecting our black SUV but instead, there’s a red car that I don’t recognize. Mom is not in this car. A man with black glasses and a black leather coat beckons to me. I know something’s not right because I run out of the house as far as I can until my feet hit the pavement. The red car is starting to pull out of my garage and I pound harder and harder on my neighbor’s door. She is nearly deaf and this is absolutely useless! my mind screams to me. Finally, I see her limping my way with her walker. I take a breath of relief and wave frantically through the door window. I’m saved! That’s what I thought. Everything gets dark and all I see is the inside of a brown bag. All I hear are my blood-curdling screams. All I feel is a firm grip around me... This piece was a group effort. I will give credit to all the writers down below. MN- Manushree Navaneethakrishnan LA- Levi Adcock GW- Gracie Walters AW-Alexander "Lexus" Williams


Paradise: A Short Piece

The Sun shines down on the infinite sand.
You are the only one here.
You stand, in this sea of sand, in this tornado of wind, in this painting of orange. The wet sludge engulfing your soft feet.
You look. Into the far distance. The sun blinding your eyes as you do so.
What do you see on that thin blue line?
No. It can’t be!
You thought you were the only one here!
A distorted shape, gliding on the broken waves.
Your hair flies up into the air, the mellow breeze commanding it. There is a sudden salty taste in your mouth.
The sea is within you.
This distorted shape schleps closer and closer to you. Is it a small merchant boat, or an immense cruise, filled with oodles of vacationers? It’s your beach. Tell them to go away. Tell them they can’t have any of this luscious, beige sand, or this salty, cool breeze. Or this feeling of freedom.
Tell them that they can never ever come here.
It’s yours. Only yours.
You have no one. Only the intricate shells on this beach, the scuttling crabs on the shore. The distant squawks of the seagulls. They are your only friends
The sound of the waves crashing against the shore, can’t be replaced with people’s chatters, or the unfolding of beach umbrellas.
The ship advances closer to the shore. It won’t be long until it’s old horn blares into the sky, announcing to everyone that they have finally reached Paradise.
Your Paradise.


Parallel Colors

Boredom is like a gray object. Sure, Gray's a color. A dull boring color. A lonely l kid that no one ever talks with. Just day by day, rotting away in a classroom, like a forgotten corpse. I guess, being a corpse would be better than being gray. Boring, old dull color. Let’s change the subject. Gray’s too boring to talk about. Let’s move onto yellow, or ooh maybe pink! Pink is the color of love or innocence; something light and happy-hearted. It’s not like our depressed friend, Gray. Ugh, let's not talk about her. She just rains on everyone’s parade.
Pink. The star of the show. The “girly” color. Pink! Pink! Pink! Just hearing it makes you think of light, happy thoughts. Colors are so darn stereotypical.

What Lies Beneath

             
The Garden is Delightful
As the Sun shines through
Dainty, red petals,
Pretty perfect poppies.
Golden yellow sunflowers.
A perfect view.

but under them
buried flowers.
left in the dirt to wilt
sinners
Deformities seized from their stems
crushed
Mutilated
A useless weed

Pretty flowers stay on Top.
Basking in Sunlight
Paparazzi of Bees

poor fallen rose
her petals were too small
thorns too sharp
just. not. beautiful
Yet.
Perfect posies at the top.
Plucked off too soon
To adorn a braid.
To enlighten a soul
A Trophy of what once was
In a race that no one wins