Journal #3- Backward Plotting

Crisis Action: A man (woman) sets their house on fire
Characters: The Terrol Family (Mother, Father, Son, Daughter)

On the grim porch, the Terrol Family unlocked the front door, and slowly stepped into the creaky house.

“Why would you have us live here?” Mother asked Father.

“We didn’t have to pay a fucking penny for this, so stop complaining,” Father replied. The kids, one boy and one girl, stared at their parents bickering as they rolled their eyes. What’s new? the girl thought.

“I don’t care! This is like living in a trailer. But that’s just you, you’d rather buy the pharmacy brand than the real deal,” Mother accused. She walks over into the dull yellow kitchen and slammed her Louis Vuitton on the countertop.

“You’re damn right. It’s trouble enough that you max out credit cards with

nonsense. I won’t be pampering you anymore,” Father said. He stared at her until she let
out a breath and gave in. She started to walk up the stairs, as she heard a THUMP from
below her. Thinking it was only her husband’s small temper, she carried on.

“That’s why I have my own room!” she said, as she reached her solitary confinement.

As the winds howled and the power lines hissed, the brindle grandfather clock struck eleven. Mother felt the shivers down her spine as she studied her new room from her queen-size bed. Mother walked over to the apricot drapes and brushed the right side up and locked the windows with her left hand. She stared at her naked ring finger. She could not help but let her heavy lips frown. She walked to the drawer beside her bed and opened it. She remembered when Father proposed to her seven years ago with the ceramic steel ring, but on the day before the wedding, Mother did not want to be discomfited in front of her friends. She made Father buy a green amethyst cocktail ring with eight carat. She closed the drawer and got ready for bed. Abruptly, the windows slammed opened.

“Ah! Oh, my god!” screamed Mother. What the hell? I swear just locked the windows. Mother walked over to the windows, gripping onto her amber-colored bed sheet. She locked it again and pushed it to experiment its robustness. It didn’t budge. Her nostrils engorged from the sudden shock. Suddenly, the lights began to flicker and Mother ran out of her room. She pounded on Father’s door. Father opened a little crack and rubbed his eyes.
“I can’t explain it, but something really freaky is going on. The windows were locked and then I locked them and then all of a sudden, like out of nowhere…” exclaimed Mother as she tried to catch a breath.
“Relax, crazy witch! I’m sure it’s nothing,” replied Father. “Go back to bed.” Mother remained standing outside her door, gripping tightly onto her bed sheet. Father remembered the bed sheet was a birthday present he had bought for her because he realized Mother had been eyeing it in Macys during their vacation in New York City.
“Fine… You can sleep here tonight,” said Father. Mother walked in in relief. After such a rough night the Mother was terribly scared. She could not believe there were actually ghosts in their brand new home.

“We have to get out of this house, it’s haunted. I can hardly sleep at night. There are bad things in this house and it is not normal.” Mother complained.

“We cannot leave this house. It is the biggest in the whole neighborhood and I cannot afford to buy you a bigger one. Stop making up excuses to leave this house, ghosts do not exist.” Father assured. Suddenly he was interrupted by his son screaming. They rushed to the bathroom and Father saw his son’s head being dunked in the bathtub, but there was no one holding him. Father carried his son out of the bathroom and laid him on the carpeted floor. Father began to check for a pulse. He placed two fingers below his son’s jawbone. Father pinched his son’s nose shut and breathed two slow breaths into his mouth. His son began to cough out water.
“Paul!” exclaimed Father. Father gave Paul a hug and carried him outside of the house.

“Stay here,” Father said as he ran back into the house, telling Sarah to do the same. Father ran upstairs and signaled Mother. Mother and Father grabbed the gasoline and poured it down the stairs and down the halls.

“Hurry!” Father yelled. “We got to burn this son of a gun down! Mother panicked heavily and emptied the gasoline jar. Her eyes widened. Vehemently, she ran into her room and opened the drawer. She grabbed the steel ring, slipped her Louis Vuitton bag on and ran back out. Mother, suddenly, slipped down the stairs.
“Honey!” said Father as he scurried down the stairs and helped her up. He was about to bend toward his right to pick up the Louis Vuitton bag when Mother suddenly screamed out,
“Forget that shit! Let’s burn this hellhole!” Father cracked a grin and lit the matches on fire. He dropped it on the gasoline-filled floor. Mother ran into the kitchen and smashed all the wine bottles. She, too, lit the matches and dropped them on the alcohol, incinerating the area.
“Hurry, Karen!” Father called out, as he waited for her by the door. Mother ran out of the kitchen, through the halls, and passed the living room as shrieks echoed behind her. Mother grabbed his hand and said,
“Eric, let’s go.”

Father and Mother ran for their lives with sweat running down their faces. Father and Mother got outside the burning house and took a ten second rest, trying to catch their breath. They carried Paul and Sarah far away from the burning house before the fire caught up to them. After the house burned to the ground, the Terrol family saw that the house was no more, but only a huge pile of ash. The family looked into each other’s eyes, exchanged smiles and had one big hug. They put their soot covered hands on each other’s shoulders and walked away, toward the sunrise without looking back.

Journal #2 (Slow Motion)

Sentence: Elena stormed in her room and stubbed her toe on the edge of the bed.

Paragraph: Elena entered the house quietly, trying not to disturb her sleeping mom and brother. It was 1 AM. Suddenly, her mom came out and yelled at her timing, "It's way passed curfew! You're punished, that's it." Elena couldn't even argue back. She stormed into her dark room, thinking about the boy she was just with who tried to rape her. While she tried to walk around her bed, her rapid steps made her stumble and hit her toe on the edge. With her big toe now throbbing, she howled out in pain and gritted her teeth.

Slow Motion: After fighting with her mom over curfew, Elena stormed in her room. She rapidly stepped through the door and around her bed, thinking about why she was late today. The boy, who was all over her at the party dragged her limp body into a room, choking her out cries. How come her mom didn't even care to hear her story? The hour she spent struggling to break free from him was punishable? As her foot swung and made way for the edge of the bed, Elena thought of her mom's high-pitched yell. She must have felt worried, that's all, she thought. Her mom would think no lower of her if she told her the truth. Her leg, still moving toward the bed, was out of control. Her tears blocked her vision and she wanted to go back and explain to her mom, so she' d understand. Elena's toe poked out in her defense and slammed into the edge of the bed.The throb of her toe reflected her fast-pulsing heart.

Journal #1 (Flashback)

Mary sits at the other end of the booth, looking out at her two children playing with the basketballs. George, on the other hand, sits staring at Mary, wondering what could get him back to the love they shared years ago. Before the thought of divorce, they loved wholeheartedly. His vision began to fade as he remembers a picnic they once had.

George told Mary to meet him out by Stuyvesant Park. It was around spring, so the weather was just right, they walked in the direction of pastel colors and mini waterfall-like fountains holding hands. George's throat tightened as he rolled and jumped with her in the grass. How can I do this with her in this condition? She's the mother of my kids. I want to marry her, but her addition is not going to end. And what if she cheats again? He remembered thinking. The day passed until the sky was full of a mixture of pink and the brightest orange. Florals were scented through the air and he thought "perfect timing". At that moment, he proposed.

Now, that has easily been the most painful mistake and joyous accomplishment of his life. He blinks and notices Mary suddenly looking back at him in a room filled of children and music.

Emotion Skit

Tiffany Bryson
Pranvera Ukehaxhaj
Nicole Rivera
Hassan Khalique

Skit: Happy!

Missy is walking down the street away from her house with Elliott. They’re wondering what the possible plans for the day is. A few minutes before, Missy saw a facebook status from her ex best friend, who moved to Australia, saying “Finally coming home!” Missy’s hoping she’s not only visiting her mom and dad, but didn’t forget about her birthday. They haven’t spoken in a little over a year. Elliott is trying to hide her insecurity over Missy’s previous best friendship with Jade.
A: Missy - It must be!
B: Elliott- Really?
B: I hope Jade didn’t come back to throw her a surprise birthday party
A: Missy- I wonder…
A: If Jade even remembers my birthday. Or if she would apologize and just celebrate with me.
B: Elliott- (Gasps) You don’t suppose!?
B: I have this feeling she’s going to show up at her house. Maybe we should avoid it.
A: Missy- I’ve got one!
A: I’m going to go back into the house to give her a call
B: Elliott- And then of course (sarcastically, taking a deep breath and turning her body around to head back toward the house)
A: Missy- Better still!
A: I don’t know what Elliott’s acting weird about. But it’s best if we go back to the house just to give it one shot. That’s really all I want for my birthday.
B: Elliott- You are-
A: Missy cut her off
A: Missy- Don’t
A: I know she’s going to flatter me about what a good friend I am. But I don’t need flattery, and I am not a game of tug-a-war.
(She turns the key in the lock and opens the door to find a gaggle of girls jump out at them yelling “SURPRISE!!”, one of them being Jade)
A: Missy- OH!! (Smiles wide)
B: Elliott- …Oh.

Reflection

Dear Reader,

My name is Nicole Rivera and I am a senior at Manhattan Hunter Science high school. My academic goal for this semester was to get an average of 90 or above. I am proud to say I have met and exceeded that goal and hope to keep it up throughout next semester. This first semester, I’ve faced a number of obstacles and challenges, socially and academically. Because we are at Hunter College living the double life of high school seniors and college freshmen, it is easy to get distracted by the immense amount of free time we have. Although I’m not a master of time-management, I’d say throughout the semester I’ve done a well enough job of keeping on task while being surrounded by distractions. Specifically, in the class of fiction writing, I’ve learned a great deal of what fiction should do to a reader. A great challenge in fiction writing class is to apply all the techniques to our actual short stories. Coming into this class, I had no idea fiction had a structure. I’ve learned that even though the structure is flexible, there still are techniques that need to be incorporated in order to enhance the entertainment and connection to the reader. I’ve also learned how to utilize my emotions in such a way to allow the reader to feel the story happening. One accomplishment I want to reach before the school year is over is applying the skills we’ve acquired, whether it is using credibility, subtext, or direct methods of characterization. Over the break, I plan on recreationally writing short stories to gain practice in using these skills.

I have found one very effective method that allows more than one person to do well. Before this year, I never thought it was necessary to study or commit concepts to memory. Coming into this semester with a fresh mentality and higher goals, I knew that would have to change. My globalization and fiction writing teacher, Mr. Froner and Mrs. DeFeo, gave the entire class the best piece of advice. We needed to work as a community, and part of being included in that community is making sure everyone does well. We decided to do study groups for the first time, staying till 8 pm at times to study for important quizzes or tests. I now know what the teachers meant, preaching about not being selfish. At the same time I was worried and studying to do well on my tests, I was assisting someone else and allowing them the opportunity to do well on their tests too. One thing I need to work on, as I’m sure many do, is time-management. I depend on getting exceptional grades, so sometimes even wait till the last minute to cram studying. This is a bad habit that I am determined to growing out of. This semester has been a struggle for me because of the level of concentration that my personal life allows. For next semester, I will be more focused on further separating the two lives; both academic and social.

For the fall semester I have taken three high school classes- Globalization, Fiction Writing, and Advanced Algebra. The most difficult, personally, of the three was Advanced Algebra. Math has never been my best subject. In the very beginning of the school year, I was summoned in a group back to the high school to discuss my first failing quiz grade in math class and the consequences of such marks. Since then, I have made improvements because of study groups. My notes became more detailed and I started to get higher marks on the quizzes, followed by fluctuation again. I know next semester’s math class will be even more demanding, but I’m willing to use all of the assistance I have access to on campus. This year is the push start to the rest of my college experience and even into my career. In one year, I picture myself at Purchase College studying literature or some type of communications. Most things revolving around writing inspires me. After this first semester, I’m even interested in creative writing as a course. In five years, I expect to still be studying on my path to becoming a successful teacher, like the ones who have pushed me to do my best. I’m still discovering who I am as a writer, but I know that writing always has and always will take a significant part in my life. It’s the most liberating release to have ever been practiced, and I plan to use it in a wild range of things, such as a way to communicate properly to others, to teach its influences, and to document events, emotions, and important lessons that affect my life. I strongly believe that a good writer reflects good leadership. When one takes a hold of their skills, especially in a wide field such as writing, and adapt ways to mold themselves, they are able to analyze and see beyond what others do. A great educator is open to all possibilities, and open to making new interpretations. This is exactly what a writer does in all ways. Whether it’s interpreting a fiction piece, or journaling, a good writer always takes control.

Specifically in fiction writing class, I have learned how to express emotion properly; different ways characters can communicate through dialogue, the ways in which the reader can pass judgment on a character, and a narrative voice. I’ve enjoyed writing our first short story, with the task being to take a traumatizing event that has occurred to us, and turn it into a fictional story. The goal was to transform it to the point where the reader cannot even tell it’s based on a real story. With this, we made the distinction between memoir and fiction. This was the first fiction story I’ve ever written, and since it is an account of something close to my heart, I have a great admiration for it. I did a good job at conveying emotion the reader can connect and relate to. If I could go back and improve on one thing, I’d have to strengthen setting. Another assignment I appreciated was the six-sentence fiction story. We learned the importance of starting a story in conflict (in media res). However, the objective of that particular assignment was to see how well we can write, bound by such a requirement as six-sentences only. We learned the entertainment in sudden fiction comes with how quickly the end or resolution hits the reader. I am proud of this piece because I took an observation of someone I saw on the train, and made it my own. By the end of the year, I hope to continue writing and practicing fiction on my free time using all the techniques we’ve learned in class. I also know I will take this pre-college experience to mature and become responsible, as I’m preparing to be out on my own in college soon. I don’t want to get to college and lose track of my work while getting pulled into the party life, or laziness, or doing work last minute.

As a student and person, I am dedicated. I’ve put effort into this online portfolio because it is mandated as an assignment, and also because it is a collection of my progression in writing. I look forward to expanding my skill in writing to possibly become a great writer in the future. For now, I accept that I’m a writer-in-training, who has much to learn about the process. Writing is a part of my life because of its ability to teach and heal. With that said, I hope you enjoy my online mini-anthology.

Sudden Fiction- Final Draft

Incarcerated Hearts

“Mari, I’m done with you. Lose my number, or there’s gonna be problems. I promise you,” Jaden said. He stormed out the house they bought together. What have I done? I don’t want to lose him, Mari thought. The knot in her throat took control and she could barely breathe. Choking up, she spit the hot saliva out into the kitchen sink. Mari looked around; the crispy white paint seemed to have rot into a stinky yellow glow. When the door opened and closed, it let in an unwelcomed breeze, the kitchen turned into a refrigerator. But somehow, Mari and Jaden were standing in the middle of a bloody battlefield, a desert, on opposite sides of the front door. Minutes tick-tocked across the atmosphere, and felt like hours, causing sharp daggers to stab at her stomach and rip everything apart. Stepping out into the snipping winds, Jaden stared back at the door. No, I can’t go back to her this time, he thought, and quickly strode toward the car. He paused, feeling a headache pounding through his skull. Go back Jaden, maybe she’ll learn this time. NO! Get in the car, she’ll never change her ways. Jaden climbed in the car and slammed the door, fuming. His phone rang.

“What?” Jaden answered.

“We need to talk it out, please. Come back so we can talk it out,” Mari pleaded, shivering.

“Nah, I’m not yours anymore. You can’t control me. Feel free to move on,” Jaden replied.

“NO! I…please, just don’t leave,” Mari said. But it was too late. Jaden had already hung up. Holding back steamy tears, she felt a cold sweat break down her back. Five years ago, life was a paradise. But somewhere along the way, Jaden stopped caring. Mari knew he was tired of fighting, but still didn’t understand why he wouldn’t keep trying. No matter how much his words killed her, she stood by him. She was his rock.

Mari stood in the kitchen in disbelief. Jaden was gone. What’s gonna happen if I hold on? Is he gonna go out and find someone new? After all this time, and he’s able to walk away so easily, Mari thought. She shook her head like a baby’s rattle. Clouds hovered in the sky, while warm tears sped down her face. Her throat clogged up like a rusty pipe, and she felt an instant pull from inside her stomach. She ran to the bathroom and dropped hard on her knees. Mari watched the lumpy pale guts pour out of her, into the toilet. Her sickness was released; her intense throbbing departed her stomach. She cleaned herself up and made her way to the computer. She looked through old photos of them before they moved in together, and reread old conversations she had stored. Mari’s breathing became heavy as she typed in Jaden’s email address, pressed the “forward” button and hit “send”. The deed was done, and she sat in confusion, wondering what she’d get from it. A man’s voice stopped her heartbeat with a loud “you’ve got mail”. Mari looked up, “Santo Dios, Ayúdame por favor. Tu amor me hace bien. Te necesito ahorita. Ayúdame,” she whispered. Slowly moving the mouse, she finally clicked the returning message from Jaden. It read:

I hope you feel some type of way. I was all for you. But you were all for drama. I would have done ANYTHING FOR YOU IN A HEARTBEAT. But you were never as grateful, you claimed you loved me and did other shit. I was writing shit like this to you on a DAILY basis. And you were out doing me dirty. That's not cool. What are your intentions? Why are you sending me all this? I have all this documented already. I would have bowed down at your command. You lost me to your games. I can't go any longer with you. However, I won’t completely let you go. You’ve been my everything for too long. But you fucked shit up. So bye. Don’t send me anything again.

-J.S.

At the last word, Mari couldn’t help but sob. Not knowing what to do, she shut down her computer and threw herself on the floor. Rubbing herself along the carpet, her hair frizzed up, her sweat trickled to the rug, and her breaths became short. Within a second, Mari couldn’t breathe. Gasping for air, she started to shake out of control; she tried to call out to Jaden, but it didn’t work. Her fists clenched and her body tightened, she used her arms to drag her along to the bathroom door. It was as if a ghost was chasing her, and grabbed her by the neck. Darkness was closing in, Mari lost all her senses. Blackout.

At Morristown Medical Hospital, Jaden rushed through the maroon double doors.

“Where is she??” he asked.

“Are you Mr. Seclude?” the doctor asked.

“Yes yes! Jaden Seclude, the patient’s boyfriend. Tell me everything,” Jaden demanded.

“Well… Mr. Seclude…Mari had a stress-induced anxiety attack, followed by a heart attack. Sir, this young woman was pregnant with your baby,” the doctor replied, gulping.

“What?? A…a baby?! Is she okay now? How’s her heart? We had a fight, doctor and I know it hurt her. But oh my goodness! A baby! I know I’ve made a mistake,” Jaden chanted.

“Mr. Seclude, I’m so sorry. Mari… didn’t make it,” the doctor said. He patted Jaden on the shoulder, looking into his small watered eyes, and once again mouthed “I’m sorry”. Jaden took a deep breath and closed his eyes as the doctor walked away, giving him the space he needed. He stumbled over to the seat close by, feeling dizzy. Jaden shielded his face with his hands and began to whimper. Mari…I love you.

3rd Draft- Sudden Fiction

Incarcerated Hearts

“Mari, I’m done with you. Lose my number, or there’s gonna be problems, I promise you,” Jaden said. He stormed out the house they bought together. What have I done? I don’t want to lose him, Mari thought. The knot in her throat took control and she could barely breathe. Choking up, she spit the hot saliva out into the kitchen sink. Mari looked around; the crispy white paint seemed to have rot into a stinky yellow glow. When the door opened and closed, it let in an unwelcomed breeze, the kitchen turned into a refrigerator. But somehow, Mari and Jaden were standing in the middle of a bloody battlefield, a desert, on opposite sides of the front door. Minutes tick-tocked across the atmosphere, and felt like hours, causing sharp daggers to stab at her stomach and rip everything apart. Stepping out into the snipping winds, Jaden stared back at the door. No, I can’t go back to her this time, he thought, and quickly strode toward the car. He paused, feeling a headache pounding through his skull. Go back Jaden, maybe she’ll learn this time. NO! Get in the car because she’s never going to change her ways. Jaden climbed in the car and slammed the door, fuming. His phone rang.

“What?” Jaden answered.

“We need to talk it out, please. Come back so we can talk it out,” Mari pleaded, shivering.

“Nah, I’m not yours anymore. You can’t control me. Feel free to move on,” Jaden replied.

“NO! I…please, just don’t leave,” Mari said. But it was too late. Jaden had already hung up. Holding back steamy tears, she felt a cold sweat break down her back. Five years ago, life was a paradise. But sometime along the way, Jaden stopped caring. Mari knew he was tired of the fights, but still didn’t understand why he wouldn’t keep trying. No matter how much his words killed her to hear, she stood by him. She was his rock.

Mari stood in the kitchen in disbelief. Jaden was gone. What’s gonna happen if I hold on? Is he gonna go out and find someone new now? After all this time, and he’s able to walk away so easily, Mari thought. She shook her head like a baby’s rattle. Clouds hovered in the sky, while warm tears sped down her face. Her throat clogged up like a rusty pipe, and she felt an instant pull from inside her stomach. She ran to the bathroom and dropped hard on her knees. Mari watched the lumpy pale guts pour out of her, into the toilet. Her sickness was released; her intense throbbing departed her stomach. She cleaned herself up and made her way to the computer. She looked through old photos of them before they moved in together, and reread old conversations she had stored. Mari’s breathing became heavy as she typed in Jaden’s email address, pressed the “forward” button and hit “send”. The deed was done, and she sat in confusion, wondering what she’d get from it. A man’s voice stopped her heartbeat with a loud “you’ve got mail”. Mari looked up, “Santo Dios, Ayúdame por favor. Tu amor me hace bien. Te necesito ahorita. Ayúdame,” she whispered. Slowly moving the mouse, she finally clicked the returning message from Jaden. It read:

I hope you feel some type of way. I was all for you. But you were all for drama. I would have done ANYTHING FOR YOU IN A HEARTBEAT. But you were never as grateful, you claimed you loved me and did other shit. I was writing shit like this to you on a DAILY basis. And you were out doing Jaden dirty. That's not cool. What are your intentions? Why are you sending me all this? I have all this documented already. I would have bowed down at your command. You lost me to your games. I can't go any longer with you. However, I won’t completely let you go. You’ve been my everything for too long. But you fucked shit up. So bye. Don’t send me anything again.

At the last word, Mari couldn’t help but sob. Not knowing what to do, she shut down her computer and threw herself on the floor. Rubbing herself along the carpet, her hair frizzed up, her sweat trickled to the rug, and her breaths became short. Within a second, Mari couldn’t breathe. Gasping for air, she started to shake out of control; she tried to call out to Jaden, but it didn’t work. Her fists clenched and her body tightened, she used her arms to drag her along to the bathroom door. It was as if a ghost was chasing her, and grabbed her by the neck. Darkness was closing in, Mari lost all her senses. Blackout.

At Morristown Medical Hospital, Jaden rushed through the maroon double doors.

“Where is she??” he asked.

“Are you Mr. Seclude?” the doctor asked.

“Yes yes! Jaden Seclude, the patient’s boyfriend. Tell me everything,” Jaden demanded.

“Well… Mr. Seclude…Mari had a stress-induced anxiety attack, followed by a heart attack. Sir, this young woman was pregnant with your baby,” the doctor replied, gulping.

“What?? A…a baby?! Is she okay now? How’s her heart? We had a fight, doctor and I know it hurt her. But oh my goodness! A baby! I know I’ve made a mistake,” Jaden chanted.

“Mr. Seclude, I’m so sorry. Mari… didn’t make it,” the doctor said. He patted Jaden on the shoulder, looking into his small watered eyes, and once again mouthed “I’m sorry”. Jaden took a deep breath and closed his eyes as the doctor walked away, giving him the space he needed. He stumbled over to the seat close by, feeling dizzy. Jaden shielded his face with his hands and began to whimper. Mari…I love you, he thought.