After viewing the following link, please write a short story that involves 4 of the images from the Day in Pictures from the BBC News link. Everything about this story should be fictional, including the names. The story must be written in the 3rd person omniscient. Please write a double-spaced story in Word format, and copy and paste the story as your blog entry. It should be 2 pages in length. Try to create round characters as well. Follow the Freytag Pyramid however you want. Due before class on Thursday, 2/16. Thank you.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/in-pictures-17011468
Robert stood amoung the smoking ashes of the old department store, taking in the details of the arson. The chief of police yapped into his ear, feeding him a long ling of instructions that he would later disregard. Robert joined the police force right out of high school, and rose to join the detectives almost five years ago. He stood on the street corner, his hairline starting to recede as he crept up on his fiftieth birthday, and his long black coat keeping the bitter London air from cooling him down. The chief barked one final instruction into his ear; Robert winced slightly as he heard his next task. The baby killer had returned to the back alley’s of London, and he had claimed his most recent victim by means of a goldfish tank. The aging detective sauntered over to his parked car, and sped off to collect his partner John.
ReplyDeleteWhen Robert pulled into John’s driveway, he heard shouting coming from inside. Robert took the steps up to his partners house three at a time and found the front door hanging loosely ajar. Inside, John was yelling a stream of curse words and instructions at the two inner city youths attempting to rebuild his fireplace. An incident involving a prankster, a stick of dynamite, and a small badger had rendered the fireplace in need of some work. John whirled around when Robert walked into the room. He was a tall, youthful fellow, in a crisp black suit. His purple tie and close cropped black hair accented his smooth handsome face. Fifteen years his junior, Robert thought, and twice as healthy. John had joined the force straight out of college, and with a textbook romance and marriage, it reinforced the fact that these two detectives were complete polar opposites. Whereas John had a wife and a baby on the way, Robert lived alone in a small flat preferring to busy himself with work. The two said their greetings, and the two detectives sped off towards the scene of the heinous baby murder.
The large buildings sped past as John weaved in and out of the rush hour traffic. Coming up to a large roundabout just outside Trafalgar square, a large rabble of people had were squabbling in the road. Robert squinted as he tried to discern the cause of the gathering, but it became obvious as they pulled up. A large crowd of green clad Africans were fighting over a small gold statue. The two police officers leapt from their car and dashed towards the fight that continued escalating. Several police officers patrolling the nearby street jumped into the fray, which had transformed into a full blown riot. John ducked and weaved through the throng of sub-continental rioters and was able to discern from the shouting that the little gold statue was an object of religious importance. Robert also picked up their information, and was busy wrestling with a man build like a giant. This man with his bulging biceps threw punch after punch at the seasoned detective until he stumbled over and hit his head on the pavement with a dull thunk. Robert looked up and saw two men battling over the golden statue just ahead. He darted forward, hoping to snatch the coveted item and put and end to the growing riot before it got out of hand when he heard a cackle of gunfire. Two masked men brandishing automatic rifles were moving through the crowd leaving a trail of bodies in their wake. They made a beeline straight for Robert when John threw himself at one of the assailants in a crazy tackle. The masked man tossed John aside with ease, and without blinking, fired a quick volley of bullets into the young detectives chest. John pitched back and lay unmoving on the ground, spread eagled. The two wrestlers had abandoned their match for the statue in fear, and Robert dived on the figurine. He jumped to his feet and turned to run when he came face to face with the barrel of the smoking, steel rifle. Robert’s hands went limp, and the statue fell to the floor. The man behind the mask smiled. The muzzle flashed.
Jonathan Hancock
Chuck and Larry worked around the clock to prepare the new building for an exhibition of Picasso and Modern British Art. The Tate Britain was a brand new modern building located in Downtown London that showcased some of the worlds most extravagant art pieces. Chuck and Larry were in the process of painting the walls blue when they heard the intruding voice of their boss’s footsteps. “How’s it looking you two boneheads?” questioned Dale. “Everything is going smooth boss, I’m just painting one of the painting bases red,” replied Chuck. Without budging, Larry continued to work in the corner of the room. “Real nice!” exclaimed Dale. “This place needs to look spectacular for Friday night,” added Dale. On the other side of town, a boy named Mickey plotted a way to stop the exhibit, an exhibit he had been left out of. Mickey and Picasso were rivals; Mickey was an 11-year-old world-renowned finger painter, while Picasso was a painter known by the masses. Mickey was more than upset that Picasso’s cubism exhibit was chosen over his finger-paint exhibit titled “Sunny Day In London: A Colorful Story by Mickey Simpson. Mickey had always dreamed of his art one day being displayed at The Tate Britain, the granddaddy of all museums. Mickey thought of many ideas to stop the exhibit from going on including pulling the fire alarm, vandalizing the museum the night before, but it came down to one magnificent idea. His idea was to craft a small-scale airplane that had a bomb attached to it and throw it at the Tate Britain. Mickey spent night after night designing the plane on a white canvas using his thumb and an occasional dab of black ink. After nights of carefully planning the craft, Mickey came up with a design that wouldn’t fail. It took 35 hours for Mickey to construct the miniature aircraft and Friday night was around the corner.
ReplyDeleteFriday night came and socialites of London were highly anticipating the exhibit. That night, men threw on their best tuxedos and women were their best dresses. Around 7p.m., guests started pouring into the Tate Britain, limousine after limousine dropped a cluster of guests off at the main entrance. In the reception hall, guests were greeted with martinis and fresh caviar by butlers. Once the reception hall filled up, Picasso took the stage and made a toast. “I would like to thank everyone for making it tonight and would like to make a toast to the beautiful new Tate Britain,” announced Picasso. “Cheers!” everyone cried in unison. After the toast, the doors to the exhibit slid open and the crowd eased their way in. Outside the museum stood Mickey with the plane in hand waiting for the perfect time to make the throw. Mickey counted in his head, “3…. 2…. 1…. GO!” Mickey cocked back his elbow and threw the plane at the museum window with force. The plane whizzed through the crisp cold air until it made an erupt halt at the window. “Bam!” The museum burst into flames and cries for help could be heard from the street. A man in a black trench coat quickly called authority claiming that there had just been a terrorist attack on the Tate Britain. Mickey quickly fled to the alley and faded into the shadows of the night. The police department, fire department, and SWAT team arrived at the scene. The flames lit up downtown at night as if it were the middle of the day and the fire department tried to alleviate them. When the flames were completely out, it appeared that there were no survivors, however, a man in dark clothing emerged from one of the broken doors. The man appeared to be holding an umbrella and a brief case and quickly fled the scene.
Kevin Steinhart
No matter how sneaky John thought he was, he always felt like someone was watching him. Taking a quick shot of the lady in purple proved to be a more difficult task than he expected. “Why is there a lady in front of me? I can’t get a clear shot now!” he thought, having to move the camera slightly as he snapped the photo. Next to the lady in purple, John noticed a rather peculiar painting, one with shapes and colors. However, the painting was not just exercising the shapes or color’s attributes, it was something bigger. Something that not many had noticed before, a tiny keyhole that lay within the, what some may call “eye”. Although there was no key, John did not worry, for he would spend the night devising a plan.
ReplyDeleteThat night, John sharpened his tools and made sure to lock his door as he stepped onto the cracked pavement of Zambia’s streets. After John got home the previous day, he made a life changing decision. “Just one last job” he said to himself while he dozed off to sleep. People know little about John, a small man with calloused fingers who spent most of his adult life doing minor jobs for a man named Tony. Tony ran a small business back in the day before he got brutally tortured then murdered by Zambia’s largest gang, the Zambaroochas. The business was one of thievery and human trafficking. John never once did a job that included harming another human, for his artistry in lock picking has brought him so much money that he doesn’t have to do extra jobs for cash.
The walk to the art gallery is a long and quiet one. John knows what he’s doing is dangerous, but his curiosity got the best of him, and now he needs to know what’s behind the painting with shapes and colors. Once at the sheet metal doors, John unwrapped his foil covered C4 and cut a small chunk off. He placed it silently on the bottom corners of the doors in order to maintain a controlled explosion, pushed the fuse and blasting cap in, and then triggered the explosion. However, due to his extended vacation from “the game”, he no longer recalled his skills in explosives. The blast was bigger than he expected, so he knew he would have to be quick because of the loud bang and rattle of the metal alarmed a few of the surrounding civilians. Upon entering the art gallery, he wasted no time and headed straight for the painting with shapes and colors. He unveiled his lock picking tools and got to work. John was a quick worker who left no room for error. His tools ticked against the lock’s tumblers, and with one swift motion, he rotated the lock’s cylinder to completion. “At last” he said, his prize gleaming in the moonlight.
Five miles out of Zambia’s main city, the Zambaroocha’s had heard of a loud noise coming from the art gallery. Using remote controlled airplanes, one’s that mimicked the purpose of messenger birds in World War 1, the Zambaroocha’s flew a message to the Zambaroocha HQ to alert them of a possible burglary in the Art District. The gang formed a reconnaissance detail to confirm that there was indeed a thief in the art gallery. Just as the reconnaissance detail set eyes on the gallery’s busted door, John stepped out with the prize in hand. Malique, the detail’s team leader, drew his rusted Colt 1911 and popped off three rounds into John’s left side. Still bleeding out, John was soon surrounded by the infamous Zambaroocha reconnaissance detail. The Zambaroocha’s took the prize and left John to die on the cracked pavement of Zambia’s streets. They headed back to the Zambaroocha’s forward operating base near the Art District. Celebrating wildly, they took numerous pictures of the golden statue, held by Malique and surrounded by the whole reconnaissance detail.
It was a day like any other. The museum seemed quiet and calm ready for the busy day ahead. Elementary students come daily excited to see what artwork lies inside the famous museum. The museum contains artwork that draws a large crowd almost every day. In this building, security is heavy. Security must be tight due to the location of the building. The museum is on the border of two very dangerous Middle Eastern countries. Many guards as well as video cameras can be seen in almost every corner of the museum. The design of the museum was set up in a way that it would be very hard for any terrorist to harm the building or any of the valuables inside of it. This all changed one sunny, winter day in January.
ReplyDeleteMaria, manager of the large museum, makes a one final walk through before letting in the eager students at the door. The young students are excited to see the famous paintings of Pablo Piscasso, Michelangelo and Leonardo da Vinci. Maria sees something out of the corner of her eye but disregards the black box in the corner and instead lets the children into the museum’s main showroom. Little does she know that this would be the greatest mistake of her life. As the day continues, she notices that no one has moved or touched the black box and figures that someone will eventfully come by and pick it up. Eventually, she forgets about the box due to the enormous number of elementary students coming by to visit the museum that day. Suddenly, people start screaming and a loud explosion is heard from the main showroom. This was the exact location of the black box and Maria will soon find out the black box was filled with explosives and has completely destroyed the showroom as well as some of the building’s structure. Many people run to the museum to see if any one is hurt or if they can offer a helping hand. After all the dust settles, a man is seen on the phone talking to a local news station informing them of the disaster and breaking the horrible news that 10 students were killed in the bombing.
After initial shocks wears off, the Middle Eastern city must rebuild the museum in honor of the students. Prime Minister Alex Stevenson, a well-spoken well-dressed man, comes up with a strategy to rebuild the building as well as make a memorial inside the rebuilt showroom of the museum. However, a storm has blown throw the reconstruction company’s headquarters and will present a problem for the Prime Minister. After receiving information of the snow story and hearing that the roads are frozen over, he must gather a new plan of attack. It may take a week or more for the roads and weather to improve. Prime Minister Alex’s new plan is to find local janitors and handymen from his area and start work on rebuilding the building and its museum. The town will have to do the best it can with the people available to begin refining the museum. After less than a week of terrible weather, the roads are cleared and the construction crew can begin driving over to the museum. The men available have done a great job starting the tough project of rebuilding the building and its museum however they are more than ready to hand things over to the professionals. It takes a little over a year for the project to really begin to take form and two years after the bombing, the museum is reopened.
AG
This is what it must feel like to be a fish. Is this how scuba divers feel when they get in those funny suites? I want to be a scuba diver. I want to live with fish, like Sponge Bob does. “ummng Spung Bob!”
ReplyDelete“No honey, these are fish. Sponge Bob is a sponge not a fish. These are fish. Fiiiiissshhh.”
What is she talking about? Obviously these are fish. They look just like Nemo. The fish are so pretty and fun I could keep my head in this tank for forever.
“Time to look at the pretty pictures.”
Wait no! Stop. Why are you moving me? I want to stay with the fish. I don’t want to move! ”AHHHHHHH!!!” STOP!
“Shhh its ok honey.” NO IT’S NOT OK!!! TAKE ME BACK! I WANT TO GO… oh pretty picture. They are so pretty. They are like boxes stacked on top of each other.
“Honey, Picasso drew this. P-I-C-A-S-S-O. This is cubism art.”
Who is Picasso? What are cubes? They look more like blocks.. I bet he played with blocks just like me. I’ll tell Jerry. He never playes with me, but if I tell him Picasso draws blocks then maybe he will play with them too. “Bawaks”
“No honey, its not blocks. It’s Cubism.”
“Bwaks!”
“No honey, cubism, C-U-B-I-S-M, cubism”
Ugh she never gets what I am saying. She never listens. I’m done with these blocky pictures its time to move on. “AHHHH.” What is this? “Bwack Picktuwes”
“No honey, these are still life pictures. Not the block pictures.” Why doesn’t she never understand what I am trying to tell her. Of course these aren’t the pretty block pictures. These pictures look like life. I see people throwing flying things all the time. Why is a pictures of them here with the fish and the pretty block pictures. All of these pictures they are just real life. Things you can see on the TV. They shouldn’t be here. I don’t like these things. I would rather just watch tv and see them. Sit at home and watch my tv. “Home” We are leaving. Maybe we are going back to the fish and pretty block pictures? No? My parka is going on. I didn’t wear my parak the last time we saw the fish or the pretty block pictures. We are outside. its cold. There are trees made of ice. “Forrest”
“No honey, that’s a waterfall.”
“Forrest”
“No waterfall. Its frozen ice” Why doesn’t she understand? She never understands.
Caroline Paterson
Trapped inside a tank with fishes gliding around his head; his mother had to figure out a way to save him. Her poor baby was taken right from underneath her nose and she had no idea who took him, or why. The mother, Jessica, racked her brain for ways she could get her baby back safe in her arms. Jessica was a single mom, widowed at a young age because her husband was in the FBI and died in a handgun accident because he didn’t realize where the gun was pointing…Jessica had learned a lot from her husband over the few years that they had been married though, and by a lot, she learned how to annihilate anyone that got in her way. As she paced the room minutes after her baby boy had been taken from her she gazed down at the ground she saw her husband’s old FBI hat. Since he couldn’t tell anyone that he was actually an agent he use to wear it all over the house so that he could get some credit for it. That’s when it hit her, she needed to take the place of her husband and become her own secret agent to save her son.
ReplyDeleteThe problem was where to start. She had no earthly idea who could have been so cruel as to take the only family she had from her, and as far as she knew no one was out to get her. However, when he was taken they were at the art museum, in hopes that she would somehow expand his intelligence by exposing him to fine artwork. Whenever you lose something you know to retrace your footsteps, so that is exactly what she decided to do. Jessica strapped on her black boots, zipped up her black leather jacket, and buttoned up her black pants, and was ready to go. She wore a scarf around her head and neck and put on sunglasses inside the building because she had seen detectives in movies do the same. Jessica was admiring a painting by Picasso when a woman in an unfortunate purple polyester blouse walked by with a bomb behind her back. Jessica knew she had to do something, and she knew that this woman probably carried the secret as to where her baby was being held. She bent crouched down as she trying to piece together all that was happening, and then a light bulb switched on and she crept over to the fire alarm and pulled it. Everyone in the museum flew out as fast as they could, leaving the museum completely quiet and still. Jessica left the building, but stayed on the street right across from it waiting for the sound of an explosion to go off. Sure enough, it did.
From across the street she saw a man on a phone in a black trench coat who scoffed, “Mission complete.”
Jessica knew it was go time, that’s what these boots of hers were made for. She sprinted off after him, but made sure that she was as quiet as a cat burglar jumping from foot to foot, yet landing on the ground lightly. The man was moving quickly, watching his back with every step he took. He then turned the corner to a small house in the middle of this downtown area they were in. An odd location for a house she thought to herself, but the house was not actually a home inside.
The man walked in the front door and left it open. She saw him disappear right as he walked in. Jessica decided to follow even though she didn’t know what would happen to her if they saw her. She walked into a room with workers painting and constructing a new floor plan. The more she thought about this situation, the more odd it seemed to her. Jessica spun around so that she could be more aware of her surroundings when all of the sudden she saw her husband who had supposedly been dead for two years.
“Juan?” She asked shakily.
“Jessica? What are you doing here?” He stammered.
“Isn’t a more appropriate question what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be dead!”
“You’re just dreaming sweetheart I promise.”
She knew this wasn’t a dream though. She pinched herself as hard as she could, but did she wake up? No. She charged up the stairs and into another room, in it were fishes swimming all around encased in a huge glass container. And she looked all around and there was her son amongst all the fishes in the sea. Well, all the fishes in this great big glass container at least.
Every Tuesday at four o’clock, Drew could be found at the Tate Britain. His connection with this museum interests most psychologists. Like eating, Drew found it difficult to continue living life without enduring daily artistic stimulation that only British modern art could provide. He could stare at the same painting for hours, examining every detail of the piece before him. This was his television, his extracurricular activity; Drew was an art connoisseur. Although it satisfied him nicely, his friends were much less enthusiastic about Drew’s art craze. The next stop for Drew on Tuesday is the Copper Kettle Pub. That particular night at the pub, the hot topic of conversation was the Zambia victory over Ivory Coast, a spectacle to behold in the soccer world. However, Drew had no input on this conversation. He simply sat at the table silently while his friends conversed for hours. Drew kept hearing the name Herve Renard being used over and over in his friend’s conversation, and every time he heard it his mind would drift off into a realm of its own. The name Herve Renard would remind him of the French artist Herve Vilard. Drew fanaticized about Villard’s smooth and perfect brush strokes, wishing that his friends shared his passion. Nine pints of Boddingtons’s ale later, Drew’s interest in soccer began to grow. For some strange reason, he wanted to know more about the sport that he had previously found uninteresting. He yearned to hear more, but all of the sudden his friend Adam changed the conversation. Adam wanted to talk about the Grammy Awards and his favorite singer Adele. Drew on the other hand could not take any more and decided to go outside for a smoke. He always resorted to smoking when he needed to clear his mind. Outside the pub, Drew smoked half a pack of parliaments. He didn’t feel the need to stop, and he probably would have finished the entire pack if Adam hadn’t come outside to find him. Adam wanted to invite Drew to volunteer for two months assisting to end youth unemployment. Drew saw this invitation as an opportunity in disguise. He accepted the invitation hoping that by spending more time with Adam, he might gain some knowledge about soccer. Excited to learn more about this sport, Drew also ordered soccer for dummies on his Amazon app while he walked back to his flat. His anticipation was growing by the minute, and all that night he dreamed about watching and even playing soccer. The next morning, Drew woke up with a terrible headache. But he soon realized that his hangover was among the least of his worries. He recalled ordering a book about soccer and offering to volunteer with Adam for two months. Like a lightning bolt to the brain, Drew realized that he had done these things while under the influence of alcohol. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to stand the two months of volunteer work with Adam unless he was in the same state he was the night before. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to bear talking about soccer for the entire two months unless he was wasted while doing so. That day, Drew became an alcoholic.
ReplyDeleteThe man wearing a black suit and awkwardly high heels kneels mesmerized by the painting of The Three Dancers. He visits this same exact gallery everyday because he cannot stop thinking about this painting. Edward Norris has no family, no lover, and few social interactions daily. Something about the painting frustrates Ed, forcing him to feel empty and cold-blooded. Casually leaving the gallery, Ed bumps into the director who attempts to set up a new display in the corner.
ReplyDelete“It’s mesmerizing isn’t it?” Said the director looking stern in all black.
“What is sir?”
“The Three Dancers! Don’t think I haven’t seen you in here each and everyday. You are my number one customer! Are you in Art school?”
“No sir, just a viewer”
“Well, what brings you back here so habitually?”
“I’m not sure, the painting calls to me like a lover but I end up leaving with an empty heart”
“I’m sorry my friend, I do hope you find what you are looking for, good day to you”
“Good day.”
On Edward’s way out he thinks about what the director said to him. What is he looking for? What does the painting have that he needs? In a manner of spontaneity, Ed starts site seeing in the city. A magnificent aquarium full of clown fish catches his eye in a nearby window. Next, he notices a busy man in a black trench coat talking angrily on a phone in front of an abandoned garage full of rubble. Lastly, he sees a brightly colored man walking into a coffee shop. Intrigued, Ed follows inside and sits down at a table next to the mysterious man.
“Would you care for some tea?” Said Ed politely with an air of confidence
“Excuse me?” said the man puzzled
“Would you care for some tea?” Repeated Ed
“Oh well sure why wouldn’t I?”
They sat in silence for a few seconds attempting to figure each other out. Ed sipped his tea; the man mirrored.
“Why did you dress in such bright colors today?” Ed asked
“I always dress brightly”
“How come?”
“Why not? I guess I am one of the proud few who are not afraid to represent something greater than black and white. Thank you for the tea it was splendid, I must be going now.”
And with that, Mr. Norris went home, slept, and went back to the gallery the next day. He started repeating the same series of events by following interesting people into the coffee shop, gaining a new outlook on life every time. After a month passed, Ed could not find the one answer he so badly needed. He learned new things from all different people everyday growing spiritually, ethically, and inquisitively; however, he still felt the emptiness left deep inside of him by the painting.
Later that year, Ed walked in the gallery and realized the painting was missing. The Three Dancers had been relocated to a gallery in America, thousands of miles away from him. In shock, Ed felt like an incredible force crushed all his bones in his body. He failed the painting and never found the secret to warming his heart.
Athens was a mess tonight. The people had begun to protest the way the government was treating them. The fires were ablaze and everyone went around looting and killing. The people were afraid of their own countries mite.
ReplyDeleteA boy the day before wanted to fly his airplane around town. His name was Sam. Sam saw a world were the economy would flourish. A world where he could build any kind of plane he wanted. The kind of plane Sam would be proud to have his name on. He thought that if he kept fighting then one day he could make this kind of world.
That night Sam went with some of his friend to protest the Greek government. He realized it was pure chaos. People were malicious killing and stealing for their own profit. No one could be safe in this environment. They all ran away in fear. Sam and his friends were shocked when they came home because everything was gone including their parents. They had gone to the police to stop the robbers. Sam knew this would not help because the cops might have been the very people who robbed his house. He could not understand how his world had come to be this kind of place. A place where no one cared about others or even a child well being. That night he vowed to make a change.
Ten years later Sam had made a change he had made sure to study hard in college and push himself to his limits. He was finally in a position to help others, but he realized he still had a long ways to go. He was the Prime Minister in London. He went on many business trips to help unemployed youth receive jobs. He pushed to help the youths old enough to work out of their homes and into the world of a work force. He mostly helped the aviation program. He still always loved planes and had a small bias towards these programs.
One day he had to fly to Portugial to see the largest festival on pets in the world. He found a child looking at fish and he realized then what he could do to help the economy. He needed to get money into the economy with the children. People were willing to help children with their money for various reasons. He could help the Greek economy by pushing for children’s future. Fighting for adults was not enough. He created Local aviation and technology programs. People wanted new technology and they wanted children to succeed.
At Sam’s next big meeting for Prime Ministers he presented his idea. Many aristocrats pushed for him. Hoping this could maybe help Athens. They had been under for years and it was hurting the world’s economy not just Athens. Lots of money was sunk into this project, and the stocks of different companies rose as well. People were buying into helping children and technology. Sam had created a product that no one could tame. It became a machine of power. Roaring through the stock market. No one could stop Sam or could they?
Sam did not realize that his product would have a short shelf life if he did not keep reinventing itself yearly. He pushed and pushed, but he could not find a way to fix the system until he met the African team that won the Nationals. He realized he needed wild colors that brought people eyes to the project not just their minds. People saw the new project and once again Sam saved the world.
Sam went back to Athens Later in life and found that he had indeed found what he was looking for. He had created a world-renowned airplane and people now would not steal any of his goods. He went to see the place that made him into the man he is today to see other boys like him growing into fine young men.
Jeremy the Builder
DeleteJeremy A. Stockheller was a highly esteemed contractor, overseeing the operations on many giant Hollywood homes. Jeremy would often inspect his younger workers that were stationed at some homes while he dressed in a dapper suit to chat with his inferiors. This well respected man had a large house, which he bought by accruing a fair amount on money in his contracting field, which had a wonderful family that lived inside of it. His wife, who plucked the daily flowers in their garden to make their morning centerpiece, was named Caroline. Although he loved his wife greatly, Jeremy had a fond and growing relationship with his son, Jeremy, but they just called him Jerm. Jerm loved fish more than anything in the world. This little boy was so intrigued by each subtle glide of the fish’s fins. Day after day Jerm would sit staring at the magnificent tank that must have cost twelve grand, which his dad had bought him just for fun. Caroline often wondered how Jeremy could afford such magnificent gifts for their son, but she often would forget about the issue all together; she never bothered to really care. By day Jeremy Stockheller was a highly esteem contractor, but at night Jeremy took on a whole new persona, one that his wife had no idea about. Jeremy had a secret love for art, but this love was like no other. This love he had for art was more of a sick obsession. His obsession called for him to search out pieces of art in museums and plot ways as to how he would get them for himself, or sell them for high amounts of money to buy things for Jerm. Each night Jeremy would scout out his next museum target, The Museum of Contemporary Art Pieces. The back area of this Museum, where Jeremy would mainly scope his getaway, was very trashy looking sidewalk, with scraps of metal lying on the ground. He would walk around with a big black umbrella so that the guards, who were dressed in all black and often on their cell phones, would not recognize him.
Finally the perfect hour of the perfect day had come; Jeremy knew that he was going to steal his favorite piece, Three Dancing Ladies. This cubistic piece had struck Jeremy’s fancy for a great amount of time and he intended on keeping this one for himself to better his home décor. Squatting down in his black pants and black boots with high heals, Jeremy scoped out his piece to be. As the final worker passed the piece Jeremy began to stand up and pursue his glorious piece. Before ripping its frames from the wall, Jeremy inspected whether or not red lasers were guarding this masterpiece. After countless puffs of baby powder Jeremy realized the coast was clear. His feet and hands tingling, Jeremy took the painting from the wall and decided to go on a full sprint, since the painting was big and he had no way of sneaking it. Jeremy, his heart pumping more blood than ever, ran as fast as he could. As he stepped into his rent-a-truck to finish his getaway, Jeremy was struck by a heart attack and was left lying in the street for all the world to see this highly esteemed man in a whole new way, a thief.
Jerm never got another fish tank and Caroline is now married to a well-respected museum owner and art distributor.
Rahim & The Crew
ReplyDeleteThe world was lit before their eyes, each color before them illuminating a chapter of growth and opportunity. Intoxicated by their fantastical ambitions, passion dominated their movements. Dedicated to materialistic entities, corruption conquered their hearts. Each one of them visualized their victory together, holding their token of success, fearless before the world.
“Until we get that gold, we keep going” Rahim muttered. “Feed yourself first peasant” Osiris said violently. Rahim smirked at his friend. The young rebel was anxious to prove his worth and climb the social ranks he was obliviously confined to. He broke away from his clan and disappeared into the darkness. A good few hours after this abrupt transcendence, Rahim was prepared to strike. He noticed a young woman strolling alone through the city, admiring the art pieces on display. “Tragic mistake” Rahim said to himself quietly. Dressed in black, he blended in with the obscurity of the shadows. He attacked with ruthlessness, abandoning his victim with nothing left but the skin on her bones. Rahim set the scene of his vicious assault ablaze and went on to boast of his robbery to the crew.
“Whatever it takes to move forward, it’s a cutthroat world we live in”, Bavol stated. Rahim’s theft landed him a pot of gold, stimulating the young bandit to partake in similar activities more frequently. He had exposed his mind to the deep enticement of crooked ways, consequentially evolving it into a corruptive form. One tempted by the streak of light shining from his sins. Crime became habitual. The destruction of another for personal gain was an every day occurrence within the troubled tribe. A product of capitalistic barbarianism, even the victims couldn’t escape the mentality behind the very system suppressing them.
On his way home the next morning, young Rahim heard disparity screaming within the walls of his apartment. He made his way inside his family’s residence. He immediately learned that his younger sister was killed the night before, but the wicked juvenile felt no sorrow. None until the details of the incident were finally revealed to him. What he heard made him cringe and stutter, because he was responsible for his sibling’s death. He yelled to his fullest ability expressing the last bit of humanity that he possessed before he jumped to his death. Unable to face the only ones that lived for him, Rahim died with no soul that morning. He left only his fish tank behind that his sister had given him when they were kids. He used to observe the fishes and comment on their incarceration within the aquarium. In actuality, he was trapped inside of an aquarium.
The world had ended right before his eyes. Rahim was blinded by the light and in the world he lived in, his little aquarium, only the strong survive. There is no opportunity for the crippled. Darkness no sight, blinded by the light.
The fire broke after just after three in the morning. The blaze all but completely consumed the small shop that had been undergoing renovations for the past month. It got out of control rapidly due to the old age of the building and lack of a sprinkler system. Not more than thirty minutes after it first started did the fire reach a four alarm level, resulting in multiple fire departments spanning five counties being called in for aid. At that point it was just a matter of containment, not of putting it out or saving the small, family run antique store.
ReplyDeleteThe noise of from all of the sirens and commotion woke mostly everyone in the neighborhood except for Joseph, for he was already awake. His clothes reeked of gasoline and his hands had a hint of ash on them. He had been at his family’s antique store that night, he had started the fire. “How did it come to this…” he whispered to himself, pondering the predicament he had gotten himself into. It didn’t used to be like this however. Joseph had always been a good kid in his earlier years, and his family had always imagined he would find great success in life. School came easy to him, his grades were nearly perfect. He never disrespected his parents and always looked out for his two younger brothers, often going to the park with them to fly their remote controlled airplane.
Things changed in high school, and not for the better. Joseph made new friends that at the time he did not realize were part of the wrong crowd. It started out as a bit of harmless fun, with he and his friends betting on the outcome of soccer games. As he grew older it got more serious, with Joseph trading friendly gambling with his classmates to high stakes bets with seedy and crooked businessman. For a while he was making a good deal of money, supplementing his family’s dwindling income. He began to lie to his father about where he was getting the money. At first he convinced him that he got a job as a courier for the local newspaper, and as the winnings increased he would say he got a promotion for his hard work.
Joseph’s luck didn’t last indefinitely. For one of the biggest and most anticipated games of the year, the Africa Cup of Nations between Zambia and Ivory Coast, Joseph decided to wager one last time. He put everything he had, as well as all of his father’s savings in the shop safe that he took without permission, down on Ivory Coast. They were expected to win as they usually did. Zambia ended up winning in one of the biggest upsets in soccer history. Penniless and distraught, Joseph did not want his family to find out about his terrible mistake.
Five gallon tank in hand, he went down to the corner station in the middle of the night and filled it with gasoline. Arriving at his father’s antique store for the last time, he smashed the front window and trashed the place. He then set the blaze ablaze and fled. In a cruel twist of fate, Joseph was unaware that his father had stayed late to work in the shop and was sleeping in the upstairs loft. The fire department recovered the remains the next day.
David and Philip waited for their parent's decision in the next room over. David nervously paced the room, and Philip held his head in his hands. They worked on this presentation for so many months, and their parents finally saw the end result.
ReplyDeleteDavid and Philip met in their junior year of college at Princeton. They both majored in international affairs, so they took almost all of the same classes. Although they are very similar, they did not become friends quickly. After months of competing to be at the top of their class, they finally had a showdown. But this showdown would not be held on Princeton grounds. It would be help in the FBI testing arena. David and Philip were the last two contestants standing. Neither of them won. They tested the exact same, had the same amount of physical strength, and showed the same amount of potential. The Bureau decided to enlist both of the boys. Since that time, they became partners and never spent much time apart. Their friendship grew from that point on, and remained strong through everything.
Four months before graduation, the Bureau told the boys that they were going to be sent to Russia in order to do gather some intel from the Russia nuclear power plant located under the frozen waterfall near Nalchik. Obviously the boys could not come right out and tell their parents why they wanted to go to Russia for a long period of time, so they had to convince their parents that in order for David and Philip to have a successful career in international affairs, they needed to go to graduate school in Russia. Now most parents would need time to really think about this decision, or to do their own research on the idea. But David and Philip's parents are not normal parents. In order for the boys to have a chance of this perfect excuse, they needed to prove to their parents that Russia was the perfect place for their graduate school.
David and Philip put together a presentation that took numerous hours of work, thousands of pictures, and a ton of research. David and Philip were finally happy with their results a month before graduation. They warned their parents as to what their idea was and sat the two couples in David's living room on a rainy Sunday afternoon. The presentation was fantastic. The music expressed the boys dedication. The proof that Russia was the perfect place to go was in the pictures. The most exciting thing going on in England was the new Picasso exhibition in London, the riots in Greece made the parents uncomfortable with the idea of sending their children there, and the excitement over the recent soccer tournament in Zambia turned the parents off the idea of Africa completely. The only thing that the parents did not understand was the reason as to why the boys did not want to go to graduate school at Princeton. The school offered them places in the graduate program, and other schools around the country were highly regarded for their graduate programs in international affairs. The boys knew that their parents were leaning towards saying no Russia, so they left the room so give their parents space.
David and Philip found themselves worrying about what their parent's decision would be. Suddenly, the heard a clap from the other side of the door. Philip recognized this as his father's indication that the parents reached a decision about the trip. The answer was yes. But of course there were strings attached, their parents would be going to Russia and joining them at the graduate school there. The boys knew immediately that this was not going to be an easy thing to deal with.
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