Observer

I wait at the window for something.  Anything really.  A sign maybe?  But that sounds too formal-anything, I'm waiting for anything.  I may know it when it comes.  Something in the way it moves will tell me.  Or in the way it whispers to me.  Yet, I may not know at all.  

It could have happened already, and I was to absorbed at the window to see it.  I could be waiting at the window for the rest of my life, with all that could and would happen gone.  Lost in the past where I will never--never get it back.  I will only sit, still at the window, still waiting.  Completely unaware of what I have missed.

I should move from the window where I watch people with their somethings.  I should.  I should go and find my own something, instead of standing here waiting.  The world could be filled with somethings, and I would never know.

And here I am still, waiting for something.  Anything, even if it has already past me by. 

The shades are drawn,

Just at dawn

For I see something

Terribly wrong,

A man by the street,

On his feet

With no

Soul.

His eyes are wet,

No tears left to bear

No one

Cares.

I peer,

Once more

And see

A scare.

The man is no longer

There,

Just a lonely

Spirit,

In the

Air.

Malin Hillemann

9/28/12

Observer Quick Write

 The Sickness Read more »

I was running as fast as my legs could carry me from the murderer. My heart was in flames; my chest was stinging from running so long and fast. Good thing I run up all the stairs of my house, which is all ten flights with thirty-two steps in each flight, fifteen times a day! I'm fourteen and I was in a store when this guy pulled out a gun and shot somebody.

I was so scared I took out my cell phone and called 911. Well, I almost called 911; I dialed 9152#* before the guy looked at me. So I ran. I turned a corner so he couldn't see me, but he knew I had turned the corner. So I raced down some stairs to a laundromat and jumped into a huge basket of clothes. What's that smell . . . is that stinky socks and poopy underwear? Oh, come on, I jumped into the unwashed clothes!

Meanwhile, outside the murderer said, "He thinks he's so smart, doesn't he? He's gone into the laundromat." He went into the laundromat and said to the person at the desk, "Did you see a boy, almost as tall as me?" "Vell," the man at the desk said with a heavy accent, "I deed see a boy run in xe unvashed clothes section." The murderer said, "Okay, thanks" in an impatient way. He went into the unwashed clothes section. I held my breath, I was so scared I thought I was going to vomit on the "already horrible looking and smelling clothes. Disgusting as it is, I think I'm going to wait here for a while until the murderer leaves!

"Wait! Stop!" she shouts.

I am scared. What had he done? I stand in the cold wind watching my breath form small wispy clouds. I hear a distant scream and run quickly, trying not to slip on the icy sidewalk.

"Oh! Ahhh! Help!!

I shiver and feel a heaviness in the pit of my stomach. What is happening?

"No!" Silence. Then yells. I lean on the building trying to think this over. Chasing...screaming...was it a fight? I feel terrified. Do I really want to find out what this is? No! my brain shouts. Yes! my heart says, beating so loud, it feels like it's trying to leap out of my chest. I am horrified...worried...guilty. I should never have left home without telling someone.

I run back the way I came. I knock on a door loudly. A young man opens it.

"Eexxxcuuuse m-m-me," I stammer. "I saw...I heard..." How do I explain this, I wonder desperately.

"I'm sorry...goodbye," snaps the man as he slams the door.

I stand there, then run to the next house hoping someone will help.

All I could hear was the quickening beat of my heart, and the shouting. The little girl was staring up at her mother with watery eyes and cheeks flecked red with anxiety. Her mother, who looked as if she’d already been quenching her thirst that morning, was throwing insults and curses into the little girl’s face and shaking her fists in the air. The little girl could only sniffle in reply. Every inch of my body was screaming to stand; screaming to help. Despite my rising anger, I found that I couldn’t even look in their direction. Littered throughout the room I saw other observers acting just the same. They were staring into space but listening intently. The expressions on their faces ranged from mild annoyance to true empathetic pain. Read more »

I stare out the window of our apartment.
My breath leaving a steamy circle on the pane.
A gray, dull, blank city looms above me with an unexpected pop of color here or there.
A red umbrella cartwheeling down the sidewalk.
A blue raincoat anticipating a downpour from the dreadful sky.
Staring at our small alley gives no comfort.
A once blooming garden is dead, littered with trash
An animal with its tail between its legs lets out a sorrowful whine.
Like the wind whispering through the windows at night.
It chills me to the bone just as the cold air does.
Someone is throwing rocks at the mutt,
Laughing cruelly.
My hands begin to sweat, nervous for the small, lost, lonely stray.
The person runs away, and the dog is alone once again.
Not thinking twice, I pull the old afghan off of my bed, already running out the door and down the multiple floors to the alleyway,
I scoop up the shaking-like-a-leaf dog,
And, fast as I can, race up the steps to the apartment.
And I stroke him, lamenting of how I know nothing of how to console this mutt-of-broken-demeanor.
But I do know one thing,
His name will be Hope.
Because that’s what he gave me, in this gray, dull, lonely city. 

It all started when I was walking home from school. I was coming down the street when I saw a small, black, rickety car speed by. It squealed to an abrupt sudden stop, just down the road from where I stood. A sinister looking man came out, dressed in black from head to toe. He nervously glanced both ways down the quiet road, and started walking up the curved gravel path which branched off the street. I froze from my location across the road, a shot of utter fear chilling me to the bone. I stood far back behind the sidewalk attempting to hide, pressing myself into the dense trees and brush. I hoped I could not be seen. After a minute I could no longer hear the crunching sound of feet hitting the gravel on the path. I felt an urge to bolt from hiding, but suspense and curiosity kept me among the brush. In a moment’s time I heard a startling rustle in the leaves. It grew louder, and louder, then two men burst out of the trees by the path. They had big, heavy bags on their shoulders. I turned and I ran.

      My labored breath is the only thing I can hear as I trudge along the steep path, out of the tree-

line. The violent snows cut down my visibility, and I can only barely see the heels of my companion’s

crampons. The bitter cold numbs my face, freezing the moisture around my mouth and nose.  I think

back to the morning when I was warm in my sleeping bag, soundly asleep and peaceful. I break out of

my daydream as I carelessly slip on a patch of ice, which jogs me back to the present.

      Suddenly a huge gust of wind screams in from above the mountain. This stops us dead in our

tracks. We take a moments rest, wondering at what had happened. I stop dead when I hear a terrible

roar from above the mountainside, and deep rumblings that vibrate up through my boots and

into my body. I can only yell out one word “avalanche!” before its noise is buried by the falling of snow. I

quickly run backwards back to the group of trees for protection. As soon as I get to the tree-line a white

screen of powder envelopes me. The rumbling blocks out all sound as I suddenly feel extremely

claustrophobic, and start to hyperventilate in fear.

      After what seemed like hours I stood up from to survey my surroundings as I realize I am not

buried by the crushing snow. I venture forward on the trail, hoping to find my hiking partners ahead of

me. I instead come upon a mound of snow six feet high which has covered what was the remainder of Read more »

The sight of words,
piercing someones heart.
Or someone's fist,
striking a defenseless victim.
I can’t stand to see it,
the urge to yell or fight back Read more »

All I did was turn my head,
that was all,
I didn’t ask for this to happen to me.
There in the foggy air
stood a man
who was swiftly putting an end to lives. Read more »

The sight of it is truly disturbing,
it’s being branded in your mind,
the sight flashing before your eyes again
and again like a reoccurring nightmare.
And then there is the light at the end of the tunnel,
like light seeping into a dark room. Read more »

As We Wasted Time

We walked around looking in little shops,
with people we didn’t know.
We wasted time while we waited for them to be done.
We found a little photo booth,
but not any photo booth, a dancing head photo booth. Read more »

  Read more »

Frightening

Something seems so off, so wrong;

It doesn’t take me long,

My muscles seize tight;

I know something isn’t right.

I’m scared to look around,

I hear the snapping, gnashing sound.

I don’t want to breathe in;

My blood’s pumping adrenaline.

I can’t take the anxiety,

It’s simply killing me.

I wasn’t expecting this today,

I decide to run away.

Into the nighttime I race,

I keep a sprinter’s pace.

Blood, sweat, and tears;

I’m not ready to face my fears.

I wish I was dreaming,

But instead I’m screaming.

Fear is in the air;

This must be a nightmare.

By Molly Jacobs

In the ocean on a boat

Going fast, eyes tearing up; cold

Something hits me

Stop

Was it a buoy? 

Bump again

Drink falls into the water

I really wanted that. 

Hit again, harder this time, almost fall off Read more »

I never knew the true meaning of "gut wrenching" until this moment. My stomach leapt into the air, hit the roof of my belly, and did a triple front flip before landing and trembling in a corner of my abdomen. I felt the grilled cheese sandwich I had eaten for lunch coming up, the acids burning my throat. A scream escaped my lips and I lifted a sweaty palm to silence the shriek. I lifted one shaky leg at a time, trying to get myself out of the room. I had to lean my quivering body against the wall so I didn't collapse. I tried my hardest to keep the horrible pictures of what I had just seen out of my mind, but they kept slipping back in. 

I had to stop. The energy drained from my body. My legs wouldn't carry me any further. They collapsed beneath me, and the world went black. 

They forgot me. They forgot me when he fell to the ground, twitching and clutching his chest and they came with their lights flashing and took him away.

            I close my eyes and huddle against the wall. My heart is thumping rhythmically in my chest. Ba-bum, ba-bum, ba-bum. My ears are ringing, blocking every other noise out. The world is acting like nothing has happened, like a little girl isn’t abandoned outside a shopping mall, but something has and she is.
            One tear--one single tear--squeezes out the corner of my eye and rolls down my cheek, glistening and catching the warm afternoon light, and lands on the very tip of my tongue for the smallest of moments before it is absorbed back into my body.
            That tear, though small, represents a waterfall of emotions. Afraid, uncertain, anxious, hurt , abandoned, and so much more. I want to be at the hospital, I want to be with him but at the same time I just want to curl up and vanish and never have to see him in a white cot in a white room hooked up to machines.
            I can’t hide. I can’t face the world. I can’t breath. What can I do? Anything? Nothing? Everything?
            I have to do something. So I slowly stand up and enter the mall, to call the hospital and ask for my father.

“Zoe, come here!”

I wander into our TV-room that could very well be a closet with no doors. Wire bins of art supplies, board games I only place with myself, and the worn red binder with “math” written on it in Sharpie even though it holds play-dough recipes, swamp the walls and surround our 13.5-inch TV, which is on.  

That’s weird—mommy says that the TV can’t go on until after dinner, and only then if I ate my food and put my dish in the dishwasher.

Mommy is watching a movie—two buildings are burning, and blue banners stream across the screen with words on them that I can’t read and don’t want to. I don’t like this movie—I’d rather watch Madeline and the Bad Hat.

Mommy gets up and snags the phone, startling me. She stares at the buttons and asks me what Daddy’s cell phone number is. I don’t know and don’t care. Daddy will be home tonight from work, and he’ll bring Lea and I Nutter-Butters, like he always does. He’ll be home in a few hours—why does she want to call him?

Mommy dials a number and I hear it ringing—faintly, I hear Daddy’s voice on the speaker, saying hello mean-like, like when he's busy and you shouldn't pester him, Zoe; he's working. Mommy starts talking loudly—too loudly—and Daddy says something before she can finish. Mommy doesn’t take her eyes off of the TV, leaning on the big brown armchair with her free hand while she tells me to stay put for a sec, sweetie. 

In the movie, the buildings burn.

       I remember the look of pure horror in my face as I stared down at my sister’s limp body. I wasn’t sure what to do; I was frantic, reaching for the phone, wanting to call the police. “Wait,” I thought, maybe she’s still alive; wanting to call an ambulance. I decided to lay myself over her chest, and just sob. It was a pure mixture of sobs and screams of confusion.

       I kept replaying the scene in my head, my body pulsating with guilt, “I should have been here. I should have been here,” I kept chanting to myself. There was a tornado of utter misery surrounding my head, creating a fog that I couldn’t seem to get out of. What will my parent’s think? I wasn’t even sure of the cause of her death. Nothing mattered to me; my life was spiraling down into a deep dark hole that I never imagined myself even dreaming of falling into. Read more »

My heart was beating so hard, like it was trying to make me explode. My hands were sweating; I balled them up. I just stood there, yelling at myself. Why didn’t I stop him? He was right there. How could someone do that? He took it right off the counter and then smiled at me. He smiled! It was like he knew I would do nothing, like I was always the silent bystander. I could feel my face turning red. I wanted to say something, but my jaw stayed clenched. No words ever escaped the prison my mouth is. I wanted to scream, to yell, and to tell some one! I did nothing; I just stood there and watched him go. What kind of person am I? Why do I never stand up? Have I always been this weak? I wanted to change, to make a difference. I opened my mouth, but still I was silent. 

Sitting on a bench in the park...
HELP!!!
What just happened?
He stole something!
What should I do?
I watch him walk out of the store and run away.
What should I do???
Police!
I pull out my cell phone.
9-1-1
Burlington Police Department...
Someone just ran from Staples with a box in his hands.
Think he stole it.
We’ll be there.
OK
He saw me.
He kept running.
I’m afraid.
I chase him.
Passing by other people.
They look at him, then me, then him.
They follow.
He’s running too fast.
9-1-1
He’s running into the south parking garage.
We’re coming.
SMASH
He’s driving off.
9-1-1
He stole a car.
License plate...
ERG-923
Thanks.
Where did he go?
I see him.
Gun shots.
Screeching tires.
I can’t help anymore.
He turns around.
I walk away...
Look over my shoulder...
He drives towards me.
Fast
I move fast.
He misses me.
Screech
He turns around
Help! Read more »

It is a bad time for it, I can tell. I’m still sitting behind our bush. Don’t ask. It’s a hobby of mine. You see, Bobby and me, we like to sit here and watch what happens. There’s always something good. People come from far a near here, and when you get lots of people, you get lots of idiots. We love idiots.

As I’m sitting here, I think that maybe I’m going crazy, or that maybe they outside the museum are going crazy, or that light post is displaying hallucinations, instead of light. Whichever, I hightail it out of there. Making for home, I whiz around the corner of Delson Street not bothering to look back, or ahead of me. Jumping up the step to my apartment building. I body check the door into room and-wait, this isn’t right.  Before I can think, someone comes out of th-

“Hey! What are you doing in here?!”

AAHH! It’s back. Out the door I go and back onto the street. A big man on a motorcycle whizzes down. He goes to fast for me to see, but I think he’s one of them.  Back down Delson Street I go, and around the corner. I stop at our bush, catching my breath. Now I understand. Policemen are allowed to carry guns.  

My heart goes from a slow steady pace to a bolting, racing speed. I open my mouth to say something, to fight back, but nothing. Nothing can be heard over the noise. Young, worried, alone, I covered my ears. My heart goes faster, any faster, it might rip apart.

            I look over there, towards him, the lights, blinding. I close them. Alone. I don’t, I can’t see anyone, even in my own head. I see nothing. Pain beings to pound through my heart, through my ribs, through my chest. It explodes, my heart, with a searing pain all over my body.

            I wrap my arms around me, to comfort me, to lessen the pain, but the noise sinks into my ears, blaring into my ear drums. I close my eyes to fight back the noise and fight back the sound, but another wave of pain hits me, the pain of being completely alone. I see him, barely, behind the lights, behind the noise, ignorant to my pain.  

            My head pounds with every second, growing more and more tired from the pain. I fall, my body, too weak to hold me up anymore. I lie on the ground, hands over my ears, eyes shut, rolling, to rock myself to some comfort. But in this open space, with so many others, I feel so empty, so alone. My heart aches and no longer battles the pain. Read more »

My eyes are drawn to their body language, I watch intently
   
    My heart starts to beat a little faster, and faster, naturally heating up

    I tense up my hands so tightly in a fist my fingers begin to feel numb

    I close my eyes and I’m a little girl, wanting to be loved by an inadequate father of bad habits

Read more »

BURLINGTON, Vermont --- Monday afternoon on September 3, 2012 at Battery Park on North Ave., people were gathering. The first thing that I noticed when I wheeled up the remainder of the steep hill [merging onto North Ave.] was the smoke. A great pillar of grey, translucent smoke that emanated from huge barbeque grills, into the sunny sky. There was a multitude of people, some sporting red Bernie for Senate shirts among the crowd. The line for free cookout food was immense and snaked all along the park’s greenery, through puddles of shade, to the edge of the park.

On closer inspection, there were people talking, handing out brochures, and displaying posters. Clearly they meant business.

One paper given to me, presented the U.S. Senator, Bernie Sanders’s stand on the F-35 plane, the loudest, newest model of plane for the USA, but would bring down the value of houses in the vicinity, mostly in poorer areas. Bernie’s supporters say no to these new planes which are loud and unnecessary.

Once the musicians on stage stopped playing we knew the speeches were starting. Quickly we got food and sat down to listen. The top man for Bernie Sanders, Phil Fiermonte, introduced the speech makers, one after another. Some represented the mail carrier union and read out statistics, which showed that the post offices were losing money, mostly due to not being repaid their over payment of money from a corporation they once paid money.

  Read more »