The story of Dr. Kim and Mr. Tamjung Kim
I had an important mission, to keep a golden diamond that was the last jewel in the whole world, and give it to the right person. Since I had to secure the gem, I slipped the luxurious gem into my underwear, decorated with different, colorful crystals. Waiting for my destination to Bangbae in Korea,
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Renewed by Bethany Cannon
Renewed
Although to a guest there was much noise, all was silent to Haley. Her ears
had grown accustom to the beeping machines, the squeaky wheels, the moaning
patients, the rushing footsteps of nurses, her crying family, and the sounding alarms.
Although to a guest there was much noise, all was silent to Haley. Her ears
had grown accustom to the beeping machines, the squeaky wheels, the moaning
patients, the rushing footsteps of nurses, her crying family, and the sounding alarms.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Thank you, Kayla and Sarin!
Thursday
1. Pray: 1 Jn. 1: Walk in the Light
2. M.C. 2004 and 2006
3. T-Party: See Kayla and Sarin's design.
4. Send in
a. Your flash fiction and poem copied into turnitin.com
b. You favorite writing piece from this year to
i. marcusschwager@gmail.com
ii. mustangnewsteam@gmail.com
HW: Study Cards
Kayla's and Last Year's AP Shirt
Thank you, Melody Clark (this is her design)!
We can go with this or design a new one. You will all get quotes; we'll find a few designers, and we'll see what we can come up with.
1. Post a quote to this blog entry (not zazzle).
a. Click "comments"
b. Type in your quote, your title, and your name
c. In profile, you may pick "anonymous"
2. Look over other quotes during the week.
3. Come with ideas to the T-Party on Thursday.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Mary Whitaker
The Silver Prison
The room was quiet, shut off from the rest of the house, muffling the cacophony of
snoring, gunshots, explosions, and obnoxious infomercial hosts. The room was dark, but one
small ray of light pierced the darkness, casting shadows that crawled along the floor and
slithered up the wall; they then crouched on the ceiling to wait eagerly for more of their shadow
kin. More rays collected together, permeating through gauzy curtains. Shadows danced along the
ceiling, greeting each other in the morning haze. I watched this. I was lying in bed, staring at the
ceiling, extremely entertained by the shadow ballet. But my buzzer rang, breaking the silence,
and the shadows jumped and scattered. I was alone.
I stood by my door, dreading the noise that awaited me on the other side. I reached for
the cold door handle and, through my peripherals, I saw a monstrous figure looming to my right
side, extending a cracked and splotched claw towards me. I turned but in front of me was a girl
with atrocious bed-head, looking perplexed and some what frightened. So I walked out of my
room into the noisy world. I did not look back, but behind me I could feel movement, as if the
monster was stepping out of its silvery prison.
Around 4:00, the fog covering the ocean oozed itself over the hill and enveloped the
neighborhood in grey. A girl who was walking home with me saw the fog appear, and
commented on the sudden weather shift.
“Wow!” she exclaimed, “It’s thicker than pea soup”.
“Nice use of cliché”, I said in a semi-sarcastic tone.
She narrowed her eyes at me and then turned, changing face. “I can barely see that stop
sign.” She pointed. In front of her, about 20 feet away, was a stop sign with an Inn n’ Out sticker
slapped on the front, above the white-lettered command. However, we could not see the sign or
the sticker, but we knew it was there from passing it numerous times. The fog was thick, just like
pea soup: murky and dense. The girl’s long arm was disappearing in the murk, her hand replaced
The girl looked at me, hand on her stomach and said, “I’m so hungry! Are you hungry?”
“No, I plan on going home and waiting until dinner to eat.”
She walked ahead of me, into the fog. “Oh, ok… I’ll see you tomorrow at school. I’m
going to go buy a burger. You can come along if you want”.
“That’s ok. I’m going home.”
I watched her disappear into the fog. I was alone, standing isolated from the world in
a small grey room, a silent grey room. Then a deep growl reverberated around me. I turned
full circle, searching for the source, but could only see grey. I yelled into the fog, towards the
invisible girl. “Your stomach is really loud!” There was silence.
I was in my room, looking at my reflection in the mirror. I stood, staring, traveling across
my face, examining every detail: my nose, my eyes, my cheeks, ears, and mouth, all of my
features, plain, neither pretty nor ugly, just plain. I stood there for a millennium, lost in a glassy
world. I did not notice the figure behind my reflection, hiding half of its deformed face. I broke
my stare, and saw her. Her skin was hanging loosely, connected directly to bone by an intricate
web of tendons. Every bone stuck out and when she moved toward me, her bones punctured
the skin like a dagger through leather hide. I turned around to face the being directly. I reached
out my hand and she took it. The fingers were brittle, breakable, and the skin on the hand was
swollen and yellowish. I looked into her thin face, a strangely familiar face and said, “You’re
beautiful”. She smiled. The smile was weak; every face muscle was straining to maintain the
The fog lifted from the hills and light flooded into the room. She began to fade and I was
left standing alone, looking out my window at the rising fog. Light diminished and darkness
encircled my room, stalking its prey. It was dark and I was alone, but not completely alone; I had
her, my monster, my ideal reflection.
The room was quiet, shut off from the rest of the house, muffling the cacophony of
snoring, gunshots, explosions, and obnoxious infomercial hosts. The room was dark, but one
small ray of light pierced the darkness, casting shadows that crawled along the floor and
slithered up the wall; they then crouched on the ceiling to wait eagerly for more of their shadow
kin. More rays collected together, permeating through gauzy curtains. Shadows danced along the
ceiling, greeting each other in the morning haze. I watched this. I was lying in bed, staring at the
ceiling, extremely entertained by the shadow ballet. But my buzzer rang, breaking the silence,
and the shadows jumped and scattered. I was alone.
I stood by my door, dreading the noise that awaited me on the other side. I reached for
the cold door handle and, through my peripherals, I saw a monstrous figure looming to my right
side, extending a cracked and splotched claw towards me. I turned but in front of me was a girl
with atrocious bed-head, looking perplexed and some what frightened. So I walked out of my
room into the noisy world. I did not look back, but behind me I could feel movement, as if the
monster was stepping out of its silvery prison.
Around 4:00, the fog covering the ocean oozed itself over the hill and enveloped the
neighborhood in grey. A girl who was walking home with me saw the fog appear, and
commented on the sudden weather shift.
“Wow!” she exclaimed, “It’s thicker than pea soup”.
“Nice use of cliché”, I said in a semi-sarcastic tone.
She narrowed her eyes at me and then turned, changing face. “I can barely see that stop
sign.” She pointed. In front of her, about 20 feet away, was a stop sign with an Inn n’ Out sticker
slapped on the front, above the white-lettered command. However, we could not see the sign or
the sticker, but we knew it was there from passing it numerous times. The fog was thick, just like
pea soup: murky and dense. The girl’s long arm was disappearing in the murk, her hand replaced
The girl looked at me, hand on her stomach and said, “I’m so hungry! Are you hungry?”
“No, I plan on going home and waiting until dinner to eat.”
She walked ahead of me, into the fog. “Oh, ok… I’ll see you tomorrow at school. I’m
going to go buy a burger. You can come along if you want”.
“That’s ok. I’m going home.”
I watched her disappear into the fog. I was alone, standing isolated from the world in
a small grey room, a silent grey room. Then a deep growl reverberated around me. I turned
full circle, searching for the source, but could only see grey. I yelled into the fog, towards the
invisible girl. “Your stomach is really loud!” There was silence.
I was in my room, looking at my reflection in the mirror. I stood, staring, traveling across
my face, examining every detail: my nose, my eyes, my cheeks, ears, and mouth, all of my
features, plain, neither pretty nor ugly, just plain. I stood there for a millennium, lost in a glassy
world. I did not notice the figure behind my reflection, hiding half of its deformed face. I broke
my stare, and saw her. Her skin was hanging loosely, connected directly to bone by an intricate
web of tendons. Every bone stuck out and when she moved toward me, her bones punctured
the skin like a dagger through leather hide. I turned around to face the being directly. I reached
out my hand and she took it. The fingers were brittle, breakable, and the skin on the hand was
swollen and yellowish. I looked into her thin face, a strangely familiar face and said, “You’re
beautiful”. She smiled. The smile was weak; every face muscle was straining to maintain the
The fog lifted from the hills and light flooded into the room. She began to fade and I was
left standing alone, looking out my window at the rising fog. Light diminished and darkness
encircled my room, stalking its prey. It was dark and I was alone, but not completely alone; I had
her, my monster, my ideal reflection.
Will Cook
A water story
River's flow with melodious grace.
All is still until the leaf picks up pace.
Nothing so melodious as the stream's trickle.
The spoken splash of fish's ever-changing path of fickle.
The ocean picks up with a sound of thunder.
Slamming down everything that used to be under.
Sand crabs send messages to dig down.
While every other creature tries to stay above ground.
The tidal wave forms as the child jumps in.
Was there any madness to the wave that would win?
Chlorinated water killing all creatures.
The once trodden grass hopper had lost all of it's features.
River's flow with melodious grace.
All is still until the leaf picks up pace.
Nothing so melodious as the stream's trickle.
The spoken splash of fish's ever-changing path of fickle.
The ocean picks up with a sound of thunder.
Slamming down everything that used to be under.
Sand crabs send messages to dig down.
While every other creature tries to stay above ground.
The tidal wave forms as the child jumps in.
Was there any madness to the wave that would win?
Chlorinated water killing all creatures.
The once trodden grass hopper had lost all of it's features.
Will Cook
"The lights glared down on the stage"
The lights glared down on the stage. The curtains were anxious to unfold. Everything up to this point had been a preparation for this magical moment. The floor creaked, as he cautiously stepped onto the old wooden floors. So many before him, had made this journey, from back stage to the front of the stage. He laboriously went over his act in his head. One card trick, one bunny in the hat, one joke, and then he would end with a blowup doll. Everything seemed well planned out in his head, but just as he was stuffing his tricks up his sleeves, the curtain was accidently opened so that his entire show was unfolded quicker than anyone would have wanted.
He shook and without a moments notice, everything fell on the floor: the bunny, the folded hat, the doll. He slumped down and began to weep. The audience, slowly agonizing over the embarrassment with him, stood up and began to clap. “I don’t know what to say”, said Charles. “ My whole act is ruined.” The applause pounded until he figured he would have to figure out a way to finish the show.
He ran back stairs and grabbed the only trick he had not done. “But I haven’t practiced this one since I was a kid,” he thought to himself. He knew it was his only hope, so he put the deck of cards into his pocket and plodded himself back on stage.
“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, this next trick would dazzle the minds of young and old alike. What I need is a volunteer. You sir, you with the tall black hat.” As young Chireesius stumbled up the stairs, his chest pounded with anxiety. He had never stood before a crowd before, but he knew there was a first time for everything.
Charles unbuttoned his sleeves, and pulled out the cards. He began to tell the crowd about how the trick would work, but meanwhile Chireesius was too fascinated by the way his heart was beating. He had never heard such a rhythm before. It seemed as if, his heart might as well jump out of his chest at any moment. However, when it came time for him to take the card from Charles’s deck, he carefully selected the card, and put it in his pocket. “No,” said Charles. “Keep the card in your sight at all times.” As little Chireesius slipped the card back out of his pocket, it was evident to Chireesius that he had a deep fascination about how and what Charles was about to do. But even before Charles had time to comprehend the future, the card had magically changed colors and was no longer in Chireesius’s hand.
The audience cheered, and Charles bowed, along with Chireesius. After the show, Charles invited Chireesius back stage and they had a talk about the future that they might be able to have together. However, as Charles was only seven years old, they both saw that it would be difficult for them to pursue a future together. Chireesius was busy with school, and there was no way his mother would allow him to skip school just so they could go on tour. So instead, Chireesius said goodbye to Charles, and Chireesius’s family left.
Charles packed up his bags, and without even desiring payment for this show, made his way to his Ford Model A car. He then drove home across the bumpy cobble stone roads, and before he knew it, he was home. He unlocked the driver’s door, and before he could even step foot outside. He found himself being gagged with a bag over his head. He drifted off, and the next time he awoke was when he felt water being splashed on him. “Get up, you filthy scum.”
With that, Charles stood to his feat, and to his surprise has hit in the back with a chair. After he fell over, they pulled the sheet off and sat him upright. “Is this him boss?” said Bernard. “You idiots,” said the boss, “I was looking for Chireesius, the magistrate’s son, not Charles the magician. How could you be so stupid? I told you several times that this job could not be screwed up. Do you all not understand that my life is at stake? Return him at once.”
(7 months later)
Charles, sat patiently waiting in the magistrates office. “Was this the man, they were looking for? Why had it been so hard for them to find this man? He was nothing more than a common man, but something must be special about him.”
“He is ready to see you Charles”, said his secretary.
“Very Well”, said Charles.
He stood up and walked past the double doors, and saw sitting his with back turned towards Charles appeared to be the magistrate. Bernard turned around and Charles soon became aware, that they had found this man. A huge gash appeared on his right cheek and he saw that he had a patch over one eye. “Have a seat Charles,” said Bernard. “ I have called you hear today, to talk about what took place on July the second of last year.” Do you remember anything of that day at all?”
“Well,” said Charles, “I do believe that that day was the debut of my show in London. It was the day, that my show was ruined and I was forced to pull sympathy from the audience by pulling a boy from the audience.”
“Do you perchance, happen to remember that young boy’s name,” said Bernard.
Charles began to sweat; his brow glistened under the reflection of the fireplace. Was he in trouble for using this child without consent? “Surely this could not be the case,” so he mustered all the strength he had and without warning blurted out. “Chireesius!” said Charles.
The magistrate glared at him with disgust. “Do you have any idea of who that boy is?”
“In fact I do not,” said Charles. All I know is that he wore a tall, black hat and seemed to be nervous with stage fright.”
“Yes that is the child all right!” said Bernard. “We have been searching for that boy, my son, for several months after he was mysteriously taken from our house that night.” “Do you remember if he said anything peculiar to you, as you departed.”
“No, nothing to strange, but now that I think of it, he did happen to wink at me almost as if he was performing a magic trick on me.” Said Charles.
And with that, Bernard stood up and began pacing across the room. Charles noticed the various awards on the wall, and saw just how many pictures of Chireesius, that Bernard had. Some of him, painted by eloquent painters, and others: photographs, longing to be dusted. Charles knew that Chireesius must not have been an ordinary son, and the thought of being able to help this man find his son, soon turned a key in his soul, and he suddenly remember to here details from the conversation from the car which had taken him to where he was kept for a few hours. They said the boy’s powers had manifested themselves over time, and he was now able to do things that were otherwise thought to be impossible. Everyone was trying to lay there hands, on this young boy. “The card!” Thought Charles. “He made the card disappear, but I could never think of how he actually performed this trick. Here I thought I was the magician, and the next thing I know, I’m the one who was getting the joke played on him.”
“Exactly,” said Bernard. “He had special powers that were otherwise not supposed to have existed.
And with that, Charles stood up. “We must find this boy!” He has powers that could be used worldwide. Surely something must be done to find him.
The lights glared down on the stage. The curtains were anxious to unfold. Everything up to this point had been a preparation for this magical moment. The floor creaked, as he cautiously stepped onto the old wooden floors. So many before him, had made this journey, from back stage to the front of the stage. He laboriously went over his act in his head. One card trick, one bunny in the hat, one joke, and then he would end with a blowup doll. Everything seemed well planned out in his head, but just as he was stuffing his tricks up his sleeves, the curtain was accidently opened so that his entire show was unfolded quicker than anyone would have wanted.
He shook and without a moments notice, everything fell on the floor: the bunny, the folded hat, the doll. He slumped down and began to weep. The audience, slowly agonizing over the embarrassment with him, stood up and began to clap. “I don’t know what to say”, said Charles. “ My whole act is ruined.” The applause pounded until he figured he would have to figure out a way to finish the show.
He ran back stairs and grabbed the only trick he had not done. “But I haven’t practiced this one since I was a kid,” he thought to himself. He knew it was his only hope, so he put the deck of cards into his pocket and plodded himself back on stage.
“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, this next trick would dazzle the minds of young and old alike. What I need is a volunteer. You sir, you with the tall black hat.” As young Chireesius stumbled up the stairs, his chest pounded with anxiety. He had never stood before a crowd before, but he knew there was a first time for everything.
Charles unbuttoned his sleeves, and pulled out the cards. He began to tell the crowd about how the trick would work, but meanwhile Chireesius was too fascinated by the way his heart was beating. He had never heard such a rhythm before. It seemed as if, his heart might as well jump out of his chest at any moment. However, when it came time for him to take the card from Charles’s deck, he carefully selected the card, and put it in his pocket. “No,” said Charles. “Keep the card in your sight at all times.” As little Chireesius slipped the card back out of his pocket, it was evident to Chireesius that he had a deep fascination about how and what Charles was about to do. But even before Charles had time to comprehend the future, the card had magically changed colors and was no longer in Chireesius’s hand.
The audience cheered, and Charles bowed, along with Chireesius. After the show, Charles invited Chireesius back stage and they had a talk about the future that they might be able to have together. However, as Charles was only seven years old, they both saw that it would be difficult for them to pursue a future together. Chireesius was busy with school, and there was no way his mother would allow him to skip school just so they could go on tour. So instead, Chireesius said goodbye to Charles, and Chireesius’s family left.
Charles packed up his bags, and without even desiring payment for this show, made his way to his Ford Model A car. He then drove home across the bumpy cobble stone roads, and before he knew it, he was home. He unlocked the driver’s door, and before he could even step foot outside. He found himself being gagged with a bag over his head. He drifted off, and the next time he awoke was when he felt water being splashed on him. “Get up, you filthy scum.”
With that, Charles stood to his feat, and to his surprise has hit in the back with a chair. After he fell over, they pulled the sheet off and sat him upright. “Is this him boss?” said Bernard. “You idiots,” said the boss, “I was looking for Chireesius, the magistrate’s son, not Charles the magician. How could you be so stupid? I told you several times that this job could not be screwed up. Do you all not understand that my life is at stake? Return him at once.”
(7 months later)
Charles, sat patiently waiting in the magistrates office. “Was this the man, they were looking for? Why had it been so hard for them to find this man? He was nothing more than a common man, but something must be special about him.”
“He is ready to see you Charles”, said his secretary.
“Very Well”, said Charles.
He stood up and walked past the double doors, and saw sitting his with back turned towards Charles appeared to be the magistrate. Bernard turned around and Charles soon became aware, that they had found this man. A huge gash appeared on his right cheek and he saw that he had a patch over one eye. “Have a seat Charles,” said Bernard. “ I have called you hear today, to talk about what took place on July the second of last year.” Do you remember anything of that day at all?”
“Well,” said Charles, “I do believe that that day was the debut of my show in London. It was the day, that my show was ruined and I was forced to pull sympathy from the audience by pulling a boy from the audience.”
“Do you perchance, happen to remember that young boy’s name,” said Bernard.
Charles began to sweat; his brow glistened under the reflection of the fireplace. Was he in trouble for using this child without consent? “Surely this could not be the case,” so he mustered all the strength he had and without warning blurted out. “Chireesius!” said Charles.
The magistrate glared at him with disgust. “Do you have any idea of who that boy is?”
“In fact I do not,” said Charles. All I know is that he wore a tall, black hat and seemed to be nervous with stage fright.”
“Yes that is the child all right!” said Bernard. “We have been searching for that boy, my son, for several months after he was mysteriously taken from our house that night.” “Do you remember if he said anything peculiar to you, as you departed.”
“No, nothing to strange, but now that I think of it, he did happen to wink at me almost as if he was performing a magic trick on me.” Said Charles.
And with that, Bernard stood up and began pacing across the room. Charles noticed the various awards on the wall, and saw just how many pictures of Chireesius, that Bernard had. Some of him, painted by eloquent painters, and others: photographs, longing to be dusted. Charles knew that Chireesius must not have been an ordinary son, and the thought of being able to help this man find his son, soon turned a key in his soul, and he suddenly remember to here details from the conversation from the car which had taken him to where he was kept for a few hours. They said the boy’s powers had manifested themselves over time, and he was now able to do things that were otherwise thought to be impossible. Everyone was trying to lay there hands, on this young boy. “The card!” Thought Charles. “He made the card disappear, but I could never think of how he actually performed this trick. Here I thought I was the magician, and the next thing I know, I’m the one who was getting the joke played on him.”
“Exactly,” said Bernard. “He had special powers that were otherwise not supposed to have existed.
And with that, Charles stood up. “We must find this boy!” He has powers that could be used worldwide. Surely something must be done to find him.
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