walking memoir
- Thread starter Chronicle_
- Start date
Morbid December
I’ve always been considered a boy with a good life and a good future, just like my father. He was the first Victor Perry. I was expected to follow in his footsteps. But of course no one wanted to ask me what I wanted. I was to inherit my father’s law firm based in New York City.
It didn’t matter how much money I made, or how thrilling it was to my father: I wanted nothing more than to sit down at my laptop each night and type line after line of anything that popped into my head. I wanted to become a famous writer, but if I became the owner of my father’s firm, I would be given no time to follow my dreams.
I don’t care that becoming a writer is difficult and I know the probability of becoming a successful writer is slim, but I live for the challenge. My father found it foolish of me when I chose Creative Writing to see if I could expand the horizons of my writing rather than Accounting. I looked forward to the day, almost counted down to the beginning of school, but the more I waited, the slower it seemed, so I tried to write as a way of easing my anxiety.
Even though my father was embarrassed by the fact that I wanted to be taught like the majority of the United States, I pushed it until he caved. I soaked up the drama of my co-ed school; I even recorded events that I thought might lead to some interesting scenes in a story. When I got to class I had so longed to take in my junior year of high school, I was met with disappointment.
The teacher, Mr. Helix, was a fate worse than death. He had the entire class doing poetry within the first fifteen minutes. Now I didn’t join up with the class to do poetry and I told him so. He told me that if I wanted to pass the class, I would need to do more than just stories. He told me that I could change classes or go along and complete his class.
I left his class with a smile, not content inside, but happy because I had shown that I was better than him. Unfortunately, the guidance counsellor did not see it my way and said I needed a better excuse before she would allow me to change the class. So, feeling the wind taken from my sails, I trudged back to the Creative Writing room to take my seat and do the poetry assigned.
Through September and October, my hate for Mr. Helix grew to a silent plea for blood. It wasn’t until Thanksgiving of that year that my hate grew to something of immediate danger. My mother’s sister had joined us that day to celebrate, but she had brought a guest with her as well. You can imagine my disbelief when Mr. Helix showed up at my front door in a grey overcoat, holding the hand of my aunt.
During dinner that night, just before everyone started to eat, Mr. Helix stood and gave an announcement that not only stunned my family, it made my blood run as cold as the water running beneath the ice of the small creek behind my house. He announced that they were to be married on Christmas Day, a single month before the ceremony. I wasted no time in excusing myself from the table and running as fast as my legs could carry me to the bathroom,taking just a moment to lift the lid of the toilet and drop to my knees before losing the little food that I had consumed throughout the day. I managed to compose myself and return to the party, explaining that I didn’t feel well.
Every time that I closed my eyes, I thought of my teacher marrying my aunt and becoming my uncle. My pain reflected my grades and as I grew angrier, my grades followed suit and dropped. I was soon failing every class, including Creative Writing and although my parents were baffled, I knew the reason. I had recessed so far that by the beginning of Christmas break, my parents had gone to a conference with each of my teachers, trying to find the reason for my troubles.
When Christmas came around, my parents said I looked horrible, my emotions had begun to degrade my physical health and I looked plagued. I felt a small bit of relief when my parents asked me to stay home on the day of the wedding so I wouldn’t get worse. I spent the day plotting a way to end my torture and found a single answer to my problems. Mr. Helix would have to suffer a fate worse than death; I didn’t want him to die; I wanted him to suffer like I had during the months of hell that he had put me through and the likelihood that his reign of terror wouldn’t end.
I had my chance one evening not quite a month after his marriage. Mid-terms had been given the week prior so he stayed after school to grade as many as he could. As soon as I got home that evening, I drove to my aunt’s house on the edge of the lake and met her on the front porch. My mind felt so numb at that point that whatever happened after I grabbed her neck, was a blur.
Accusations followed the murder of my aunt. I remained a victim of Mr. Helix’s insanity throughout his trial and the years following his sentence in a facility for the mentally unstable. He never plead guilty and to this day, his motives have remained a mystery. They say he’s written works to explain what happened, but non are even close to the truth. Victor Perry killed his own aunt, in cold blood, for sweet revenge.
I’ve always been considered a boy with a good life and a good future, just like my father. He was the first Victor Perry. I was expected to follow in his footsteps. But of course no one wanted to ask me what I wanted. I was to inherit my father’s law firm based in New York City.
It didn’t matter how much money I made, or how thrilling it was to my father: I wanted nothing more than to sit down at my laptop each night and type line after line of anything that popped into my head. I wanted to become a famous writer, but if I became the owner of my father’s firm, I would be given no time to follow my dreams.
I don’t care that becoming a writer is difficult and I know the probability of becoming a successful writer is slim, but I live for the challenge. My father found it foolish of me when I chose Creative Writing to see if I could expand the horizons of my writing rather than Accounting. I looked forward to the day, almost counted down to the beginning of school, but the more I waited, the slower it seemed, so I tried to write as a way of easing my anxiety.
Even though my father was embarrassed by the fact that I wanted to be taught like the majority of the United States, I pushed it until he caved. I soaked up the drama of my co-ed school; I even recorded events that I thought might lead to some interesting scenes in a story. When I got to class I had so longed to take in my junior year of high school, I was met with disappointment.
******
The teacher, Mr. Helix, was a fate worse than death. He had the entire class doing poetry within the first fifteen minutes. Now I didn’t join up with the class to do poetry and I told him so. He told me that if I wanted to pass the class, I would need to do more than just stories. He told me that I could change classes or go along and complete his class.
I left his class with a smile, not content inside, but happy because I had shown that I was better than him. Unfortunately, the guidance counsellor did not see it my way and said I needed a better excuse before she would allow me to change the class. So, feeling the wind taken from my sails, I trudged back to the Creative Writing room to take my seat and do the poetry assigned.
Through September and October, my hate for Mr. Helix grew to a silent plea for blood. It wasn’t until Thanksgiving of that year that my hate grew to something of immediate danger. My mother’s sister had joined us that day to celebrate, but she had brought a guest with her as well. You can imagine my disbelief when Mr. Helix showed up at my front door in a grey overcoat, holding the hand of my aunt.
During dinner that night, just before everyone started to eat, Mr. Helix stood and gave an announcement that not only stunned my family, it made my blood run as cold as the water running beneath the ice of the small creek behind my house. He announced that they were to be married on Christmas Day, a single month before the ceremony. I wasted no time in excusing myself from the table and running as fast as my legs could carry me to the bathroom,taking just a moment to lift the lid of the toilet and drop to my knees before losing the little food that I had consumed throughout the day. I managed to compose myself and return to the party, explaining that I didn’t feel well.
******
Every time that I closed my eyes, I thought of my teacher marrying my aunt and becoming my uncle. My pain reflected my grades and as I grew angrier, my grades followed suit and dropped. I was soon failing every class, including Creative Writing and although my parents were baffled, I knew the reason. I had recessed so far that by the beginning of Christmas break, my parents had gone to a conference with each of my teachers, trying to find the reason for my troubles.
When Christmas came around, my parents said I looked horrible, my emotions had begun to degrade my physical health and I looked plagued. I felt a small bit of relief when my parents asked me to stay home on the day of the wedding so I wouldn’t get worse. I spent the day plotting a way to end my torture and found a single answer to my problems. Mr. Helix would have to suffer a fate worse than death; I didn’t want him to die; I wanted him to suffer like I had during the months of hell that he had put me through and the likelihood that his reign of terror wouldn’t end.
I had my chance one evening not quite a month after his marriage. Mid-terms had been given the week prior so he stayed after school to grade as many as he could. As soon as I got home that evening, I drove to my aunt’s house on the edge of the lake and met her on the front porch. My mind felt so numb at that point that whatever happened after I grabbed her neck, was a blur.
Accusations followed the murder of my aunt. I remained a victim of Mr. Helix’s insanity throughout his trial and the years following his sentence in a facility for the mentally unstable. He never plead guilty and to this day, his motives have remained a mystery. They say he’s written works to explain what happened, but non are even close to the truth. Victor Perry killed his own aunt, in cold blood, for sweet revenge.
Short Poems: Food for Thoughts!!!
learning sets us going,
practice breaks us down
therefore, it is called the cycle of life.
When one looks at the blue sky,
one can dream of possibilities.
When one looks at the red flowers,
one can imagine the beautiful within.
When one looks at the black canvas,
one can see the colors molded together.
Now, when one looks at the white curtains,
one knows it is the end.
Paddle hard,
Moving fast,
Paddle slow,
staying still.
p.s. these are random poems that came up randomly in the past couple of days. No specific format, criticize away! i want to see it all <3
learning sets us going,
practice breaks us down
therefore, it is called the cycle of life.
When one looks at the blue sky,
one can dream of possibilities.
When one looks at the red flowers,
one can imagine the beautiful within.
When one looks at the black canvas,
one can see the colors molded together.
Now, when one looks at the white curtains,
one knows it is the end.
Paddle hard,
Moving fast,
Paddle slow,
staying still.
p.s. these are random poems that came up randomly in the past couple of days. No specific format, criticize away! i want to see it all <3
Letters to Unknown
Without the bright light you shone through my heart, i'd rather taste shadow's pain to search you,
without the love you have committed, i'd rather enter into the path of loneliness,
how is one suppose to feel, when nothing around is real
caught in fire, spiral in pain,
fully committed, yet nothing can be gained
full of surprises, full of vain,
falling gently into a dark abyss, pain as striking as a wound
can be seen only by you.
gliding along the cloudiness morn,
tenderly brushing against the wound,
thinking about nothing but you.
Without the bright light you shone through my heart, i'd rather taste shadow's pain to search you,
without the love you have committed, i'd rather enter into the path of loneliness,
how is one suppose to feel, when nothing around is real
caught in fire, spiral in pain,
fully committed, yet nothing can be gained
full of surprises, full of vain,
falling gently into a dark abyss, pain as striking as a wound
can be seen only by you.
gliding along the cloudiness morn,
tenderly brushing against the wound,
thinking about nothing but you.
Give Thanks
I really treasure my position in your heart,
I can really ravish, capture, attract you.
How blessed am I to fully gain your love attention,
to forever have you gaze upon me.
When I have my ups and downs,
I give thanks you always been by my side,
Thank you once again for being you,
The one who can always satisfy my needs,
For this, I will forever love you.
Inspirational Quotes
To start and to end, many miss the process from start to end. it is sad to end but it also bring fears to start, it isn
I really treasure my position in your heart,
I can really ravish, capture, attract you.
How blessed am I to fully gain your love attention,
to forever have you gaze upon me.
When I have my ups and downs,
I give thanks you always been by my side,
Thank you once again for being you,
The one who can always satisfy my needs,
For this, I will forever love you.
Inspirational Quotes
To start and to end, many miss the process from start to end. it is sad to end but it also bring fears to start, it isn
Corruption
Not everyone is lucky enough to get a second chance. I, Alex, swore on that day that I would change. I made that vow for my friends, my family and most importantly for her, Eva. It all began in the late spring of 2007; it was then that I mysteriously received a letter from my principal notifying me that I had been accepted into the Ace program.
As I started on my way home, a girl walked up to me. She told me that she had overheard the conversation in the Principal's office and wanted to know more about it since she was the second candidate for the same program. Now I was even more confused, I vividly remembered she was the top student in the class. My grades weren
Not everyone is lucky enough to get a second chance. I, Alex, swore on that day that I would change. I made that vow for my friends, my family and most importantly for her, Eva. It all began in the late spring of 2007; it was then that I mysteriously received a letter from my principal notifying me that I had been accepted into the Ace program.
As I started on my way home, a girl walked up to me. She told me that she had overheard the conversation in the Principal's office and wanted to know more about it since she was the second candidate for the same program. Now I was even more confused, I vividly remembered she was the top student in the class. My grades weren
Will.You.Love.Me.For.Ever.
Will
Will I love you?
Will you love me?
Will love really surpass all?
Will love guide us through?
Will love truly be surrounding us?
Will dreams really be our reality?
Will steps we take bring us closer?
Will you ever let me go?
Will time and age change us and separate us?
You
You never complained
You never yelled
You never doubted
You never screamed
You never cheated
You never lied
You never steal
You never wandered away
you never gave up
Love
Love is strong
Love is warm
Love is power
Love is dream
Love is hope
Love is content
Love is cruel
Love is possessive
Love is great
Me
Me is fun
Me is outgoing
Me is self-center
Me is spoiled
Me is confident
Me is spirited
Me is crazy
Me is flirty
Me is talkative
For
For the three months we been together
For all of the promises we made
For the commitment we holds
For the time we spent
For the love we nurture
For the nights we wished upon
For the hope we share
For the future we look for
For the grace we experienced
Ever
Ever wonder how love really works or how hate is created?
Ever imagine being in the same place with someone else?
Ever think of how compatible we really are?
Ever dream of how far we can go?
Ever care of how much we really can love?
Ever long for that day when we join hand in hand?
Ever sought after that night when we exchange our love?
Ever regret of walking down this path?
Ever dare to choose again?
Will
Will I love you?
Will you love me?
Will love really surpass all?
Will love guide us through?
Will love truly be surrounding us?
Will dreams really be our reality?
Will steps we take bring us closer?
Will you ever let me go?
Will time and age change us and separate us?
You
You never complained
You never yelled
You never doubted
You never screamed
You never cheated
You never lied
You never steal
You never wandered away
you never gave up
Love
Love is strong
Love is warm
Love is power
Love is dream
Love is hope
Love is content
Love is cruel
Love is possessive
Love is great
Me
Me is fun
Me is outgoing
Me is self-center
Me is spoiled
Me is confident
Me is spirited
Me is crazy
Me is flirty
Me is talkative
For
For the three months we been together
For all of the promises we made
For the commitment we holds
For the time we spent
For the love we nurture
For the nights we wished upon
For the hope we share
For the future we look for
For the grace we experienced
Ever
Ever wonder how love really works or how hate is created?
Ever imagine being in the same place with someone else?
Ever think of how compatible we really are?
Ever dream of how far we can go?
Ever care of how much we really can love?
Ever long for that day when we join hand in hand?
Ever sought after that night when we exchange our love?
Ever regret of walking down this path?
Ever dare to choose again?