Upload
masters-mastests
View
224
Download
1
Tags:
Embed Size (px)
DESCRIPTION
A compolation of works in Ms. Bhattacharya's Flash Fiction seminar
Citation preview
A Compilation of writing between the fall of 2011 and the winter of
2012 in Ms. Bhattacharya’s Senior Seminar
Robby Kuster
2
TableofContents:I.MyLifeasaReader:AStoryin3Parts pg.35II.ArrivaloftheBirds pg.67III.Canyonsin68Words pg.8IV.HalloweenPiece pg.8V.PavedinGold pg.910VI.Eyes pg.1112VII.QuestionandAnswer pg.13VIII.Prompted pg.14IX.AlphabetSoupX.DefinitionofGhostCats pg.16
3
Mylot.com
MyLifeasaReader:AStoryin3Parts
Part1:ItwasalwaysaboutthePokemoncards.ChangingfromVelcrointolaces,my
littlesixyearoldselfdidn’twantanythingtodowithblackscribblesonapage.What
didIcareaboutMrs.FrizzleandtheMagicSchoolBus?Wasn’tmybusiness.My
businesswasoutsideonmybike,ormoreimportantly,insideobsessingover
Pokemon.YouknowPokemon.Theridiculouslittlecreatureswithnamesthatsound
morelikemysteriousdrugsthanfire‐breathing,
water‐wieldingJapanesecreations.Iwatchedthe
show,playedthevideogame,butespeciallyhad
theplayingcards,eachwithitsownPokemon.As
akid,Iwouldmakemyselfasecondcarpet,
rearrangingandreorganizingasIsawfitIdreamt
thatonedayIwouldcatch,orIguess“collect‘em
all,”andIwasdeterminedtodoso.
Isoonrealizedthatmyparents,alittleconcernedwithmydisinterestin
reading,gavemepraiseifIeverdaredtopickupabook.Mymalevolentselfraised
thebar,demandingthateverycouplebooksIcouldreadintheirpresencemeant
anothertriptotheToyStore.ThereIwouldbuyanotherelevenpackofPokemon
cards,prayingacreatureIdidn’tyethavelaywrappedbeneaththecrinklycolorful
foil.
Myreadingprogressed,asdidmypilesofPokemoncards.Veryslowly,I
startedtocareaboutwhatwasgoingoninmybooksandlessaboutPokemon.
CaptainUnderpantsandIfYouGiveaMouseaCookiebecamethemoreinteresting
thanthefictionalanimalsofmypast.Iwasmovingontobiggerandbetterthings.
Part1ofmyreadinglifeclosesjustasthoselittlekidsclimbedintothatMagicTree
House,pointedatthatpicture,andsaid,“Iwishwecouldgothere.”
Part2:Bythetime4thGraderolledaround,MagicTreeHousewasn’ttheonlything
onmyagenda.Ibroadenedmyhorizons:Astrangelookingboyonabroomwitha
lightningshapedscar?Whythehellnot?AToad,Rat,Mole,andBadgerdrinkingtea
4
inaboatonariver?Well,thatonewasprettyadvancedsoIletmymomreaditto
me.
Ireadforpurepleasure.Allthemesandmetaphorswentcompletelyovermy
head.Ididn’tknow,andIdidn’tcare.Readingwasexciting.Exceptforthosebooks
weHADtoreadinschool.Yuck.Theywereneveranyfun.Atleastthat’swhatItold
myself,becauseallmyfriendsweresayingthesamething.Lookingback,IthinkI
secretlylikedreadingthebooks.Iwouldfindmyselfimmersedinthestory,and
inadvertentlyreadahead.
AsIenteredmiddleschool,readingbecameaseriousbusiness.Crispinand
hisshenanigansenteredmylifeasItrudgedthroughthetextsearchingfor
metaphorsandsimilesasahomeworkassignment.Alsoby8thgrade,Irealized
Shakespearewasnothingshortof
devilspawn,andforcingyoung
childrentoreadsuchthingsshould
bethoughtofaschildabuse.
However,withadvancedreading,
morebooksflewofftheshelves.
Myeyesdartedthroughmore
HarryPotter,TomSawyer,Alex
Rider(teenagespy),andevenaDanBrownbookasmiddleschoolended.
In9thGrade,Ibegantodiscoverthathiddenthemeswereindeedpossibleto
find.HoldenCaulfieldreallywashidingsomethingunderthatorangehuntingcap.It
wasjustdifficulttofind.Contrastingthat,wealsoreadOldManandthe…oh.I’m
sorry,Ijustfellasleep.WhatwasIreading?Oh,thatemotionlessdrawlfromErnest
Hemmingway.Itprobablywouldn’thavebeenasbadifIdidn’thavetojournal
aboutitevery10pages.Itwasfrustratingbeingforcedtowrite,“Hetalkstohishand
hereandyellsatitforlettinghimdown.IthinkthisshowsathemeofBLAHBLAH
BLAH.”Idon’tcarewhatthemesareinthatbook,I’mnotlookingatitagain.Now
thatjoyouslybringsusintopart3ofmyexistenceasareader.
Greetings child. I am Shakespeare. Read me.
paralleldementia.guildportal.com
5
TakenOctober,2010onMt.Elbert
Part3:Sophomoreyear,Ireadoneofmyfavoritebooks,andgetthis:itwasfor
school!1984blewmymindinitsterrifyinglyrealisticportrayalofwhatmightjust
happeninthefuture.GeorgeOrwellwasagenius.Notmuchwasdifferentsincemy
daysasafreshman.However,thatallchangedmyjunioryear.
Agooddealofmy1stsemesterwasspentinthewoodsofLeadville,Colorado
whereIhadtoreadenvironmentalists’viewsontheearth.Somethingaboutsitting
onarocklookingatahugemountainmakesreadingThoreausomuchmore
bearableandrelatable.Ashediscussed
humanity’srelationshiptonature,relationshipto
civilization,andhowwehaveseparatedourselves
fromwhatwasonceourhomemadesense.I
realizedthenthatreading,whatevertheliterature
happenstobe,isallaboutcontext.IfIweresitting
inaclassroomreadingThoreau’sdaydreams,half
ofthatstuffwouldhavegonerightovermyhead,
andIwouldneverhaveunderstoodthetruthin
hiswords…evenifhewasanarrogantprickwho
didn’tevenfollowhisownadvice.Icanonlyimagine
whatreadingtheAdventuresofHuckleberryFinnsittingonaraftonaforested
sectionoftheMississippiwouldbelike.Readinghadtobecherishedinthecorrect
environment,andatthecorrecttime.Otherwise,theoriginalmeaningofthetext
willbelost.
Now,I’m17.Throughmyyears,IhavecometorealizewhatIamasareader.Iread
forenjoyment.Icanonlygetsomuchoutofabook.Don’tgetmewrong:I
understandalotofsymbolsandhiddenmeanings.TherecomesapointwhereIjust
loseallinterestinthetiniestofminutedetails.Callmeabluntreader,butIdon’t
thinkthatiswhatreadingshouldbeabout.It’saboutgettingabsorbedinaworld,
feelingtheemotionsofthecharacterswithouthavingtostopanddeeplyanalyzea
texttoactuallyunderstandwhatishappening.That’swhereIstandasareaderso
far.Myopinionmaychange,andImightsuddenlyhaveamaddesireforPokemon
cardsagain.Onlytimewilltell.
6
The Arrival of the Birds
InspiredbythesongArrivaloftheBirdsbyCinematicOrchestra
Many years ago, I watched the arrival of the birds. It was something I knew
took place every year, but never one I cared to understand. They were birds, and
I had more important things to do in my youth than watch the birds fly over our
town on their way south. But one year I decided to look up at the sky and view
the mundane evolve into the extraordinary. Ever since I made sure to watch the
sky, searching for the message of life that rushes through my soul and the town
without fail.
In they fly, a chorus of petrifying grace, arriving in a tidal wave, sweeping
across the mountains, valleys, and plains, unwavering in their course, certain of
their path through this world. The birds screech a song, one only loved by those
who know why the birds chose to fly. They fly for their future, they fly for their
survival, they fly because that is all they know. They fly through heaven, and
they fly through hell. And they fly through hell because they know that heaven
can’t be far away. And they must know this or the birds would never fly. As they
arrive, they call to Mother Nature, and she answers, guiding them on their way
across the vast regions of the earth.”
They don’t stop because they know that one day, the end will come. One
day, they will reach a land, one they see every year, a land they know, a land they
trust. Here they will rest their limbs weary of a long journey, a journey through
heaven and hell. Here they will find solace, and sanctuary. But they won’t stay
forever. Just as with all things, the birds will know when to fly again. And they will
Northshorefallcolors.com
7
leave the land behind, flying back the way they came. Back to where their journey
began.
I once asked my father about the Arrival of the Birds. “They come and
they go every year,” I said. “Why do they fly all that way, across mountains,
valleys and plains, just to return to where they once were?”
He smiled and asked me a question in return, “Why were we brought into
this world, only to find ourselves
leaving when we just got started?
The beginning may be the start,
but don’t forget that it is always
the end.”
SuperPipo2010flickeraccount
8
TheCanyonsin68WordsInspiredbyDarkCanyoninSoutheasternUtah
If a man in Utah were to travel through time, he would come upon a
stream, cautiously picking its way through the desert , unsure of its path, cal l ing
for the ocean. He might notice a crack in the parched dirt beckoning water through
its opening. But Mother Nature was at work, wielding her powers, creating the
unbel ievable…
Flying forward, a stream created something only the Gods could understand.
Halloween Piece Skeletons: Never wave to figures in the dark; you never know who they might be.
TakeninNovember,2010attheJunctionofDarkandLostCanyon
9
PavedinGold
MynameisJeremy.IthinkmylastnameisDoyle,butIcan’tbesure.It’sbeen
solongsinceI’veseenanyofmyfamily.Idon’tremembermuchaboutmyMomma
andPapa.Welivedonafarm,wherewegrewpotatoes.Wenevergottoeatvery
much.Papasaidweneededtosellthemsowecouldeatlater.Ididn’tunderstand
whywecouldn’tjusteatthepotatoes.Therewasalwaysfighting,andwhenevermy
fatherhitmymother,mybrotherwouldhidemeinthecornerbehindthedresser.
Hedidn’twantmetoseewhathappened.
Thenoutofnowhere,mybrotherwokemeuplateatnighttotellmetoget
readytoleave.Weweregoingonanadventure.Toalandacrosstheocean,where
wewouldneverbehungry,wherewecouldseeprettyladiesindressesandmenin
top‐hatswalkingthroughthecities,wherethestreetswerepavedwithgold.His
eyeswerewideandhisbodywasshaking.IaskedifMommaandPapawerecoming.
Hesaidtheywouldcomelater,butthatwecouldn’ttellthem,ortheplacemightjust
disappear.
“SoJeremy,”mybrotherwhispered.“DoyouwanttogotoAmerica?”I
nodded,andletmybrotherleadthewaytoAmerica.
Idon’tremembermuchoftheboatride.Iremembertherats.Ihadtoeatmy
foodfast,ortheywouldstealitwhenIwasn’tlooking.IfeltlikeIwasgoingtobeon
theboatforever.Wewouldsailrightofftheearth,andthenkeepgoinguntilallthe
breadwasgone.
WhenwegottoAmerica,Irememberlookingaround,tryingtofindthe
streetspavedwithgold.Whenmybrotherwastalkingtoanotherman,Iaskeda
nice‐lookingladyifsheknewwhereIcouldfindwhatmybrotherhadpromised.
Shelookedatmewithpityonherface.“I’msorry,child.Youwillhavetolook
harder.Noteveryonecanseethestreets.Butifyoupray,ifyoustaystrong,then
maybeoneday,theymightberevealed.”
Ididnotunderstand,andtothisdayIhaven’tseenthestreets:Notwhenwe
werekickedoutofourapartment,notwhenmybrotherwentofftowar,notwhenI
10
begforfoodfromtheprettyladiesindressesorthemenintop‐hats.Theystillhide
fromme.SometimesasIwalkbacktomyalley,eitherwithbreadinmyhandora
blackeyefromthebaker,Iseelightreflectingoffthewindowsfromaroundthe
corner.ButwhenIgettotheroadandturntolook,allIseeisdirtandbroken
promises.Ihaven’tlosthopethough.Iwillneverstopsearching,hopingtoseethe
glimmerofadreamIhaveyettoforget.
11
EyesInspiredbythenovelWinesburg,OhiobySherwoodAnderson
Warisafunnything.Youdon’tthinktwiceaboutthedangersyouface.You
dowhatyouweretoldbecauseyourofficertellsyou,andthat’sit.Buteverything
youdo,everythingthatmakesyouwhoyouarecanbeerasedinaninstant.One
pieceofmetal,flyingthroughtheair:itcanendyourlifeorthelifeofsomeoneright
nexttoyou.Allittakesisoneunluckystep.Butthesimplicityofwarisalmost
beautifultosome:deadoralive,killorbekilled,liveinthepresent,dieforthe
future.TherewasamanbythenameofJacksonTenetwhounderstoodthesimple
logic,thedarktruth.Helivedthroughthewar;thecardshewasdealtgavehimhis
life,thoughataprice.Itlefthimwithafaceblastedbytheshrapnelofagrenade,the
lossofvisioninoneofhiseyes,andthelossofaclosefriendnamedAaronShade.
Mr.Tenetborehisscarsproudlyashesteppedoffhisplanewhenhelanded
home.Itwasatragicsymbol,teachinghimnevertoforgetthebattlehefought,his
friendnowgone,andthebluntnessofwar.Awifeandchildwaitedeagerly,andhe
greetedthemwithopenarms.
Butsoonnightmaresandvisionsofthatterribledayfloodedhismind.Every
dreamwasthesame.Itwouldbeginafewminutesbeforetheevent.Theplatoon
waswalkingthroughwhatseemedtobeanabandonedtown.Therewaslittle
tensionintheair,andmanyweretalkingorlaughingaboutsomethingthat
happenedbackatbase.Thenallofasudden,Mr.Tenetremembersitquiteclearly,
theinstrumentofdeathcamesoaringthroughtheairfromahiddenwindowand
cametorestathisAaron’sfeet.AllspaceandtimecametoahaltasAaronlocked
eyeswithMr.Tenet.Uttersadness,totaldefeat,confusion,fear:emotionsburstforth
throughtheretinasofamanjusttryingtounderstand.Mr.Tenetcouldn’tthink,
couldn’tmove,couldn’tbreathe,ashestoodfrozeninthissingularuniverse.Allhe
coulddowaslookbackatAaronShade,ashisfriendtookhislastbreathonthis
earthpursuingananswerinMr.Tenet’seyes.
TotalDarkness…
12
AndMr.Tenetwouldwakeupwithhisfriend’spiercingstaresearedintohis
mind.
________________________________________________________________________________________________
Astimewenton,thefiguresinMr.Tenet’sdreambegantolosetheirshape.
Platoonmembersfellfromthegroup;thestructuresinthevillagebecamewarped,
thenfadedoutoffocus.ThenfinallyAaron’sfigurestartedtoleaveMr.Tenetaswell.
Hisbodybecamedistortedandirregular.Thefeaturesofhisfaceoozedandlostall
proportions.Theonlythingthatneverleftweretheeyes,alwaysburningthrough
Mr.Tenet,andstraightthroughhisdamagedsoul.Hebecameanalcoholic,andcome
stumblinghometerriblydrunkintheearlymorningscreamingaboutvisions.He
beathiswifeandchild;hebroketables,smashedwindows,unabletoprotect
himselffromtheunbearablestarethatneverlefthislife.Mr.Tenet’swifeandchild
lefthim,fearingfortheirlives,buthecontinuedonhisrampageofterrorand
hatred,unabletoforget.
Manyyearspassed,andMr.Tenet’swildrageswereneverseenagain.
Althoughhesoberedup,withthisclaritycamebitternessandcrueltythatnoone
couldbreak.Hegrewold,andnowlivesalone.Hishouseitisn’tasdecrepitasit
looks,butthosepassingbyfeeluneasy,worryingthatthetiresomethingwillone
daycrumble.Butitliveson,andsodoesMr.Tenet.Hecan’tseemuchanymore,but
hestillhasn’tforgotten.AaronShade’seyesstillstareback.
13
Question and Answer 1) What is freedom? Buddha on a motorcycle.
The law had finally passed. Years that went back farther than the
oldest generations; the last oppressive law in the land was brought to
a close. Cheers, tears, and everything in between could be heard
from every corner of the nation. At that moment Keanu Reeves
revved his new Harley Davidson, as the land of the Buddhas took its
final step towards freedom.
2) Why are men mortal? Because trees can’t walk.
Treebeard lumbered through the woods of Fangorn forest in Middle
Earth. He had had a hard day. He had just seen what he thought was
a monkey building a house using the legs of his good friend
Saplingmustache. It grieved him to see his buddy demoted to a
disabled tree, What made matters worse, he knew that that monkey
man would never die, with nothing in the world able to die and all.
More and more would be made! Then all of a sudden, he came across
a set of buttons that fell from the sky. It seemed that Treebeard
could make a choice: Keep things the way they are, or sacrifice all
tree’s legs so that the humans will one day die. He realized that was
the only chance the trees had to survive. He closed his eyes, pressed
the button, and froze.
14
Prompted
1) Youwakeupinthemorning,andrealizeyourworldisdifferent.Lyingon
yourkitchentable,youlookuptoseethefanswivelingmuchfartherabove
yourheadthanyourememberit.Theproportionsoftheworldyouonce
knewaremuchlargerthanyesterday.Lookingaround,yourealizethesalt
andpeppershakersareastallasyouare.Thenyoulookdown…shit.You’rea
pancake.
Respond:
2) YouarewatchingTVathome.JustanormalSundayafternoon.However,
thatisbeforeyourtelevisionstartsfreakingout.Theimagesandsounds
fillingthescreenbecomedistorted.Youtrytochangethechannelbutitisno
use.ThelightfromtheTVbecamesobrightyoushieldyoureyesfromthe
searinglightfillingthehouse.Theneverythingstops.Youopenyoureyes.
YouareintheTVshowyouwerelastwatching.
Whatdoyoudo?
3) Youhavedecidedtogoexploringwithyourfriendsinthedensejungleof
Brazil.Apparently,usingamaphefoundonStumpleUpon,yourfriendthinks
helocatedahiddentreasuredeepintheAmazon.Afteracoupleflights,afew
taxis,andonelongboatride,youandyourfriendtakeyourfirststeptoward
treasure,orterribledanger.
Respond:
16
Definition of ghost cats:
Ghost cats are commonly known as the most glorious beings a human
can behold. Expert Dominic Benger commented, “Yo dat shit (ghost
cats) is so real, if you know what I mean.” The creatures are able to
meld between the normal and paranormal, by using a telekinetic
power to interrupt space-time. The few and far between who have
laid eyes upon the ectoplasmic felines seldom live to tell the tale,
for a ghost cats’ gaze is similar to that of a basilisk in Harry Potter,
freezing most in place. Those who have survived become altered
beings. Joe Biden, Kanye West, and the red Teletubby are just a few
of those we know who have seen the creatures. Hitler saw one, but
exploded at first sight due to its overpowering catlike abilities. This
is a common misconception from WWII. Another we know alive and
well today is Dusty Rainbolt, author of the critically acclaimed
Ghost Cats: Human Encounters with the Feline Spirits. His insights
have helped humanity gain a better understanding of the fantastic
beasts. Where can you see them, you may be wondering? Well it is
uncertain, however, the most sightings have been in these locations:
Moscow, New Zealand, Six Flags (the one in New Jersey obviously),
the southwestern corner of North Dakota, and Mars (may or may not
include its moons). Tread carefully in your search. You may find
more than you are looking for.