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"No, you’re wrong it's New Jersey and New York, now you say it"

"Ard, I got chu new jewsey and new ywok"

"Sigh… pero por que tu segi desiendolo haci?"

“what chu been por que? Haci es como yo hablo?”

“sigh”

People nowadays are just so quick to fix someone else up when really there's nothing that's broken. People want others to speak what they consider and accept as "normal" when really it's just one of millions of ways to talk. For an example, when I'm talking with my brother he says that I sound like I'm from Brooklyn or if I'm Italian when honestly I don't It's just the way I talk. It's kind of stupid that people want everyone to talk like how they talk. Everyone is different in everyway. But, then there are some people that take it to a whole other level even though it's not that deep. Just because one say certain words how the majority of people say them doesn’t mean the whole world need to say it the same way. When I'm having a full conversation with different people they all say that I talk weird because I speak both Spanish and English at the same time and I be pronounce things differently than others. For an example some words that people say that I always say wrong when I know that im saying that they are right are, “Inevitable”, “Congratulations”, “talk”, “New York”, and “New Jersey.”

When I'm speaking to my close friends I also switch back and forth using both Spanish and English to talk to them. When I'm talking to my friends when we go to the corner store and we all are making fun of each other or something we always switch from Spanish to English. So when I talk people say that I talk really weirdly because I apparently talk “Ghetto”, like an Italian, and Spanglish. Im always having somebody correct me and I get annoyed because I know that im right and it’s just the way that I want to pronounce them.

“Ayo, por que tu siempre esta hablando haci. You saying that the way that I tolk is wrong when u can’t even pronounce have of the words you is saying.”

“Si pero like you say New York and New Jersey like a whole italian boul or if u from Brooklyn when u is not and u talking like one of the drugies around here.”

“I know im not cambron pero that’s the way I talk and I don’t get it, why is it wrong like how is it wrong”

“Porque tu nunca oyo los gentes aqui talking like that, you talk like a whole nut daawg”

“o.”

The conversations would be full of argument about how we both talk and the pronunciation of words ect. Also, I think that I am the only person that talks the way I do because I haven’t seen anyone else talk the same way. Like, the combination of English, Spanish and the Italian accent and Brooklyn accent. When im having a long conversation with someone they realize it imitaly and the point it out. Then that’s were it starts the argument of how Im just talking normal and they say that it is not normal and they begin to correct me and talk slow for me and they just cant because I don’t know how else to say them. So, I have im guessing a few accents mixed into one.

Now another example is when im talking on the phone to a company and I start talking how I always do my mom would get mad because I sound like im talking “ghetto” or “dumb” when really it’s just the way I talk. Why is it that when we talk there is a “smart” way to talk and a “dumb way” to talk. Shouldn’t talking just be Basic English everywhere we go and not be judge by how we pronounce words or the accents that we have. So I think that I could relate to “Tonge Tied” a lot because in the story there was a quote that said “She didn’t understand black language. I stood their nervous and sweating I did not know how to react or what to do. I couldn’t run away, I couldn’t breath, I could not even swallow.” This quote explains how I feel when people give me a weird look, or ask me about what I just said.

Another quote that I could relate to from the same story is when it say’s “there are different Spanish’s. “Every Spanish speaker waits and wants to hear what kind of Spanish you use. If u mess up a lot of words or the pronunciation of a word you are look down at and they will think that you weren’t raised right or you grew up in a bad neighborhood”. I have this feeling all the time when talking to my mom friends or when talking to my friends because I don’t want to make a mistake I want to speak as perfect as they do but it’s hard when I talk the way I do. If I were to pick a thesis for this story it would have to be “Everyone’s a critic, always ready to judge one’s language and style.” Why I decided to pick this thesis was because I think that it’s true how no matter what race, age or sex one can be are there’s always someone ready to judge the way you talk and will look at you differently once you open your mouth and that reputation will always follow you because of the first time you talked to someone they will always have some kind of word to describe you.

• Hicimos un PSA sobre contaminación en Filadelfia.
• Es un asusnto importante a nosotros porque Filadelfia es bello pero mucho contaminación.
• Esperamos que el público de Filadelfia esto lo que puedes hacer para parrar el contaminación en Filadelfia.

  “May I the have the turkey club without bacon?”
“Sssr Hun. Would you like some wooder?”
“Yes please with lemon.”
I did not know it then, but the way I speak has a big impact on how the world views me. Some people might think I’m rich or something because I speak “proper”. Some people think I’m sucking up or trying to act superior.
“Why you talk that way? Are you White?” I usually ignore them because I don’t really talk all that differently then they do. In fact I talk the same way they do in a language called English. You would think people with an accent would have a hard time fitting in But for me its the opposite. My lack of accent is what makes me standout for better or worst. When in the “hood” some people think it’s uncool. When out in the street some people look at me like “ I didn't know black people could talk” I think I have always talked well, but never in a dry NPR kind of way. I have an accent apart from my “white” or Philly ones. It is my accent picked up from living with a crazy family, and hours of watching Star Trek.

When I was little I loved using big words because if you did people would listen. Strangers would upon meeting me exclaim how smart I was, telling my mom I should get tested as if she did not know me. My big vocab at a young age also got me into trouble. For example in kindergarten a fellow classmate was talking to me about animals.

“ My favorite animals are cats and dogs and fish and...”

I knew a lot on the subject and chimed in.

“ You know you’re a animal”

“No I’m not,” she said loudly

“ Yes you are, you’re a mammal”.

At this point she had enough of my blasphemous tongue, so she ran off to the teachers. “Khari called me a mammal” It took the teachers a while to calm the child. Then they want me to say sorry to her, for what I thought, but gave a half hearted one anyway. Now I know this is taking it a bit too far but people seem to be insulted with certain language when the meaning is unknown to them. It holds some weight over their heads. One must first take in account the place where people come from in order to communicate.

I used to feel that in order to be understood I had to change the way I talked depending on where I was. I didn’t want them to judge me by the way I spoke. So I try to sound less like me and more like the people I was trying to fit in with. This reminds me of a quote in James Baldwin If Black English Isn’t a Language, Then Tell Me What Is. He says, “What joins all languages, and all men, is the necessity to confront life”. This fear of being left out or being seen as an outsider brings to mind “the necessity to confront life”. For that is all a language is, a way to describe life. So that being said the language of others I used to fit in, was not reflecting my life. I want to not lie to people with my voice, I started to talk normally and use “big words”. The dreaded insults came back, for a little while anyway, but over time they got bored with the teasing and got used to my voice.

Looking back, it feels rather silly to try to sound like someone am not. However the reasoning behind the action was sound. With so many people in the world trying to fit into social boxes, it is hard to say true to yourself. I might have stopped trying to sound like other, but there is still pressure to be like them. So keeping in mind “the necessity to confront life” I must make sure I’m true to mine.  

Andy woke up to another rainy morning in Quillayute, Washington. He slipped on his jeans and stomped his feet into his rain boots. He drug himself over to the bathroom to brush his teeth.  Andy never brushed his hair. He thought it would make him look like he tried to too hard.   

“Andy you still aren’t ready?”, his mother hollered.  

He snapped back at her, “Chill out Mom. I’ll be down in a sec.”  

Andy trudged down the wooden steps of his back stair case, moaning and groaning as he stepped into the kitchen. 

“Don’t forget you have to be home right after school to help Grandpa with his storm door. I made waffles; they’re in the toaster,” his mom said without taking a breath. 

“That doesn’t mean you made them. It just means that you put them in the toaster.” 

“Either way, they’re toasting! Eat and leave for school. I’m going to work  now.” 

She gave him a quick peck on the head and rushed out of the door yelling, “I’ll be home before 7!” 

“BING!” The toaster screamed and the toast was in front of Andy instantly. He munched down on it in three quick bites and left for school. He walked to his girlfriend’s house so they could catch the school bus. Just like he did every morning. 

He walked up her front patio, knocked on the door, and waited for Clara to come out. 

She stepped out of her house saying, “Hey And-Man,” a pet name she had for him, “did you catch any Z’s?” 

“Barely. All I could hear was thunder.” 

“Me too! Luckily we had a hard volleyball practice so I fell asleep fast.”  

“I’m jealous. I will most definitely be sleeping in all my classes today,” Andy said has he reached his arm around Clara. 

During gym, Andy went to his locker and the locker door met his hand. Mark Efritt, Andy’s sworn enemy, began to walk down the aisle he was standing in. “What’s going on Handy Andy?!” 

“Seriously Mark, leave me alone. I’m not bothering you so stop trying to bother me.” 

“Oh but you are bothering me! Just seeing you here is bothering me.” Mark proceeded to grip Andy’s arm as if he were to yank him away from the locker. Andy pulled his arm away from Mark. 

“I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE ME ALONE!”

At that moment a chair flew across down the aisle of the lockers right towards Mark. Mark was able to catch himself in time in order to not be hit by the chair. He fell to the ground and scurried away. Andy didn’t even understand what was happening. He  had no idea where the chair came from. He knew no one else was in the locker room besides him and Mark at the time. 

“Did I do that?”, he thought to himself in astonishment. Andy decided that he needed to go home and get out of school so he could calm down. He grabbed his things and ran to the nurse’s office to fake sick in order to get home quick. 

Once Andy got home, he sent a quick text to Clara, “Come over after school. Not feeling well & left early.” Andy’s mind was racing though. How could a chair just take flight if no force had touched it? He couldn’t wrap his mind around it. Andy clicked on the television to try to relieve himself from his wandering mind. Of course, during the middle of the day, the only thing playing was old comic cartoons about super-heroes.  

Andy sat up in bed and looked around. His eyes stopped on his door. He focused on the closed door. Then suddenly, the door was open. Andy tried searching for another object to move. His eyes settled on his boot. Again, he began to focus. The boot flung across the room and hit the wall. He knew it. Andy knew he could move things with his mind. 

“How could this be? I don’t understand how something like this could happen. Should I tell anyone? Definitely not my mom, she won’t understand. Clara? She might get freaked out though!” Andy was pacing around his room trying to figure this out. He heard the front door creak open. From downstairs Clara called up to him. 

“Andy, I came right over after school to make sure you were all right.” 

“Yeah, I’m feeling better. You can come up.” 

Andy began to get really nervous. He didn’t know if he could exactly control it. Clara came up the steps and into his room. 

“Hey big man, what’s going on?” 

“Not really sure. I just felt nauseous and I couldn’t focus at all in class. I felt like I was gonna pass out.” 

“Were you able to get any sleep?”, Clara said as she walked over to the bed and sat down. 

“Not really, just watched some toons,” as Andy followed her lead. 

“Well why don’t you lay down now and try to get some rest. I have to get to volleyball practice soon.” 

Andy didn’t say anything to Clara but was trying to be very cautious about his actions and temper. A few weeks passed and everything was fine. 

Andy began to notice there was a new kid that had just moved into town. He seemed quiet and not very friendly. The next day, Andy saw him in the locker room getting ready for gym. Andy thought it would be nice of him to say hi and introduce himself. 

“Hey man, my name’s Andy. Welcome.”

The boy glared at Andy and finally just said, “Hey.”

Andy thought it was very strange how the boy reacted but didn’t pay any mind to it. He saw the boy more and more. He had no idea who he was. Andy had seen the boy again in the locker room and thought maybe he’s just shy. 

“Hey, I think we got off on the wrong foot. My name is...” 

“Andy, I know.” 

“Right, I guess I did tell you that last time. So, what’s yours?” 

“Hank.” 

“Where did you move from?” 

“Abroad.” 

“Oh, so over seas! That’s pretty cool.” 

Hank didn’t even look Andy’s way and left the locker room. Andy thought there was no hope in trying to get to see who this kid really was. He decided to put it behind him. 

A few months had passed and nothing seemed strange. Andy was very happy and surprisingly, his relationship had gotten better with his mom. He thought that maybe it would be okay if he told her about himself. 

That night at dinner Andy said to his mom, “Mom, I have something to tell you.” 

“Are you on drugs or something?” 

Andy gave a little chuckle and said, “No Mom, but you might think I am after I tell you this.” There was a long pause before Andy told her. “I can move things without touching them.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

“If I focus on an object, I can move it.” 

“Ha-Ha-Ha, very funny Andy.” 

“I’m not kidding! Watch!” Andy immediately looked at his glass of water and began to focus on it. Within seconds, the glass slid slowly down the table to his mom. She was dumbfounded. She had no idea what to say. 

“Andy, don’t do that again. You’re freaking me out.” His mom got up from the table, put her dish in the sink, and walked into the living room to watch TV. Andy just got up and walked out the front door. He wanted to tell Clara what had happened.  

He walked up her front patio like usual and knocked on the door. Clara answered and let him inside. Andy stepped in quickly and they went into the basement and sat down.  

“So, what happened with your mom?”, Clara said quickly. 

“I told her something that I don’t think I should have.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I told her I can move things without touching them.” 

“I thought super heroes and like villains only did that stuff.” 

“Well, apparently I can too.” 

“I’m sorry, but that’s a little hard to believe.” 

Again, Andy preformed the same thing for Clara as he did with his mother. Clara herself couldn’t believe it either. “Andy, maybe your mom is right.” Andy simply got up, kissed Clara on the forehead and went home. Once he got home he went straight to his room and went to bed. 

Andy woke up with the sound of a knock at his bedroom door. He checked the clock quickly. The clock read four in the morning. Andy rolled over and pulled the covers up to his head. He then again heard a knock on his bedroom door. He  used his mind to open the door not expecting anything, but standing there outside of his bedroom was Hank. 

“HANK!? What are you doing in my house! Get out!” 

“Andy, you don’t understand what you’ve done. They’re coming for you. You need to leave now.” 

“What are you talking about ‘they’?” 

“The other talented ones.” 

“I have no clue what you’re talking about. 

“They are on their way! We must leave write a quick note to your mom. Leave anything precious to you here. And don’t bring your cellphone. I’ll break it. You need to make it seem like you ran away.”  

“Can I at least say goodbye to Clara?” 

“I’ll take you there for a few minutes. But you can’t wake her up.” 

Andy quickly grabbed a bag and threw in as many clothes as he could. He grabbed a pad a paper and jotted down a few lines: 

I decided I must take some time to figure some things out. Please don’t come looking for me. I’ll be home soon. I’ll be safe. I love you.  

Hank and Andy left the house and went to Clara’s. Clara was fast asleep. Nothing would wake her up. Andy wrote down another note to leave Clara: 

I love you more than anything. I need some time away from here. I’ll  come back soon. Please don’t worry. Don’t forget me. 

And with that, they were gone. The other talented ones were hunting for a person  that had the ability of mind control to add to their team. But this was no ordinary. Each member had a special power that all together, they would be able to bring pure destruction to whom ever they chose.  

Andy’s mom woke up the next morning and found Andy’s note. She did not make a big deal about is but simply tried to understand. She kept her hopes up and did not try to search for him. She stayed right where she was just incase Andy would need her. Clara for a long time was confused and didn’t understand what happened. She continued to hope that Andy would come back one day. 

                                                     Chronic Rebellion

The air was crisp as Taylor stared at the envelope that was lying on his front step. Something about that letter intrigued him. Perhaps it was the fact that it was on the cement step rather then stuck in the crowed mailbox with the rest of the mail. Analyzing the letter, there were no postage marks or return address to be found anywhere. The only thing that the letter showed was mysterious lettering spelling out “Taylor Smith.” Something about this letter gave him a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. But he knew that opening the letter was the only way to find out what was inside of it.

Taylor couldn’t take the pressure any longer but the intense urge was eating him alive. Sliding the door shut Taylor placed the letter down on the counter. The fact that he was skipping school for the second day didn’t even cross his mind. As he poured himself a bowl of cereal he heard the front door open.

He could hear the door’s lock having struggle will it was being fiercely pulled back and fourth before it opened.

“Taylor! Anyone home” Taylor’s eyes opened real big as he pour his milk. His dad’s voice made he jump as he scattered to close the milk. Throwing his bowl in the sink, with fast thinking he opened the back window from the kitchen and climbed out of it. Taylor’s dad entered the kitchen and found the back window opened. With an annoyed emotion on his father face he closed the window tightly. Squatting down beneath the sliding of the window Taylor felt the thump of the window being closed waiting for his dad to be away from the window so he could make a run for it. Before he could make a clear run for it, he waited for his dad to get into the car and pull out of the driveway until he was turned the corner and was completely out of sight. Taylor stood up and jumped over the back yard gate and onto the sidewalk. While Pulling out the crumpled up cigarette pack out of his rusty blue jeans he looked at the pack and began to light it. Placing the pack back in his pocket he found the note. Walking by the field he saw his 3 childhood friends Luke, Chris, and Steven.

     “Guys I was this close to being caught by my pops today”

“Good one bro, that’s all we need is for you to get caught” Chris said as he sat back in the dugout against the gate. Luke looked at Taylor and then down out his front pocket where the letter was hanging out.

“What’s this your little love letter”  Luke said as he grabbed it out of Taylors pocket before he could grab it.

“I don’t know what it is, should we open it?”

“What are you waiting for” Luke handed back Taylor the letter and everyone crowed Taylor to see what was inside of the envelope.  Ripping the envelope opened a tiny paper fell out of it and slowly floated down to the circled that was perfectly formed by their feet. Taylor picked it up quickly. This was it! This was the moment Taylor waited for all morning. Reading the letter outloud it said.

       Taylor, This letter is not to put you in any kind of danger at all. We would like to think of it as a gift or a responsibility Not only for the future and but the safety of others.

-       Unknown

Taylor stared at the letter.

“Someone’s just trying to mess with your head” Steven said as he took the letter out of his hand and reread it in a girly weak voice. Taylor grabbed the later out of his hand while the rest of them laughed.

“Enough guys! I’m not going to worry about it”

Taylor made his statement to the guys as a joke but he knew that it was becoming a seriously problem.

With a confused look on his face Taylors eyes rolled back into his head.

 “GUYS! I think Taylors going to pass out”

         The bright lights were all Taylor could see when he opened his eyes. The force of his hands felt tight and he felt like the pressure was unbearable to left. “Why am I here” Taylor thought to himself.”

“Who am I” “Where am I” Taylor had no idea where he was or even who he was but all he wanted to figure out was how he got there. Walking up on a what appeared to be a surgery table wasn’t what Taylor experienced ever in his life.

He was in a different room, one he never saw before. Where was here? And why was he there. Did this have to do anything with the note?  The force of his arms started to tighten up. Cringing to get away he knew it wasn’t possible to move.

“Behold, one of the Seven Wonders of the World!”

James whispered this simple, yet nostalgic thought to himself as he gazed at the towering Pyramids of Giza. The marvels of engineering glistened in the soothing sunlight that projected enormous shadows off in the distant desert. He was basking in excitement that could potentially rival that of a young teen at a Justin Bieber concert. Contrary to everyone around him, he lived an extremely dreary life as a second grade math teacher in the small town of Warrington, Kentucky. Faced with this stark reality, James decided to finally pursue his dream of visiting the Egyptian pyramids. From a very young age, he shared a distinct interest in ancient Egyptian mythology, culture and history after his mother began to read him stories about mummies. As he got older, he sought out more advanced information on the topic and soon fell in love with the engineering capabilities of the ancient Egyptians.

James always knew that he wanted to visit the place he pictured in his mind so many times. This drove him on a five year saving campaign to raise enough money to pay for his trip. This process was hampered when the State of Kentucky slashed his salary by 25% and he still had to take care for his mom. After each paycheck, James barely had enough money left over to pay for his trip. However, he made it work through sacrifice, dedication, and prayer.

As he walked up to the base of the Pyramid of Khufu, the largest of the three pyramids, he stated, “I am living my dream right here, right now. I am finally here at last!” As he made his way toward the pyramid to get a better look, the idea of climbing the largest pyramid popped into his head. There was an internal battle as he decided if he was going to make this idea come to fruition. Before he reached the security fence surrounding the pyramid, James had already made up his mind. “Yeah, I am going to do it. I have to make the most of this trip. I am coming back after dark.”

He came back after dark when all the security guards had left and hopped over the security fence under the watchful light of the full moon. As he neared the top of the pyramid, James saw a small golden eagle protruding from one of the stones. “What is this doing here?” he exclaimed, “I guess this is my lucky day.” He could not believe something this valuable was left lying around of this pyramid that is frequented by some many scientists and researchers. As James got closer to the eagle to pick it up, he soon realized that this was no ordinary piece of gold.

James suddenly lost total control of his body and stood motionless in the same spot on the pyramid for about two minutes. After this initial period of time, his body began to slowly jerk forward with his left arm outstretched, trying to grab the golden eagle. He tried to suppress these movements but his resistance was futile. When he finally grabbed hold of the golden eagle, he held it up in the air and turned his head towards the moon.

The next thing James remembered was waking up in a well-lit room surrounded by individuals peering down at his face. As he slowly opened his eyes, he realized that none of the faces were familiar and he sprang out of his bed, grabbed a small Swiss knife and threatened anyone who dared approach him. “Who the hell are you people? Where am I? What am I doing here? Is this even real?” James was so confused since it seems like it was only seconds ago that he was in Egypt with no control over his body while clenching a golden eagle. “How did I get here? Was it that eagle? Was it some kind of ancient magical instrument? ” James definitely suspected time travel and the golden eagle since he picked it up against his will and that was his last complete last memory. These series of thoughts were interrupted by a muscular, middle –aged man who stated, “Are you drunk or crazy or something. Please put the knife down.” James immediately complied because he was only making a fool of himself and he needed the help of these people to figure out what is going on.

“Excuse me, if you don’t mind me asking! Do you happen to know today’s date? ” asked James tentatively. The same man that urged him to put down the knife replied, “March 11, 3110.” This proved what James had thought all along since the date he visited the pyramid was July 1, 2010. He was a time traveler and the power of the golden eagle was the source of the power. “Where is my golden eagle? Please locate my golden eagle for me?” screamed James frantically. Without the eagle he could not go home to his original time period and if the eagles was not with him in the facility, it must be on the where he found it on the Pyramid of Khufu. James knew that if he was to return home, he will have to visit this pyramid again so that he could get access to the eagle one more time.

I soon realized that I was living in an underground military facility commanded by General Wallenberg of Fourth Stryker Battalion. In the year 3085, a type of humanoid species known as Ewigs invaded Earth with the hopes of establishing a new colony. Although the humans fought bravely, they were not match for the advanced weaponry and intellect of the Ewigs. This was a small band of soldiers that survived the initial war and now waged a guerilla war against the occupying aliens.

James explained to General Wallenberg that he wanted to journey to the Pyramids of Egypt but he did not tell him a specific reason. The general while scratching his beard replied.  “A dangerous trip like that is virtually impossible given the air dominance that the Ewigs possess. We would not make it ten blocks from this base before we would be shot down. I am sorry but I do no think that we have the necessary equipment or the resources to carry out such a mission.”

James’s heart quivered as he heard this news since he did not intend on living in this time period. His real life was back in his original time period. James knew that he had to keep his resolve strong and find a way to rectify the problem. After minutes of sobbing softly at the dinner table, James responded to the general’s comments stating, “Instead of trying to fly to Egypt in a human airplane, why don’t we just hack into the computer system of one of the enemy’s airplane and guide it to a safe location using remote control. This way, they won’t suspect one of their own jets.”

Over the course of the next six months, James along with other military scouts studied the flight paths of the jets. They recorded the acceleration, displacement and velocity of the particular jets that they could hack so that they would know exactly when to spring the trap. The main battle jet (MBJ) of the Ewig Airforce could accelerate from rest to a speed of 150 m/s in 5 seconds. James then found the acceleration of the jet, which was a whopping 30m/s/s and the distance the object traveled during this time is 375m. After the initial 375m of the jet’s flight path, the jet then slows down for 10 seconds and then moves at a constant velocity of 80m/s for the rest of the patrol. James knew that the perfect time to attack the jet was while it was moving at a constant velocity.

Armed with this key information, James and a team of two others soldiers settled into their positions in skyscrapers along the flight path of the jet. The jet approached right on schedule and was scanning the buildings and roadways for the signs of any humans. As the jet passed by James’s position, he shot the jet with a bullet that contained malware that bypassed the security firewall. He quickly gained control of the vehicle through remote control and guided it to a secure section of the city where the driver was taken prisoner and James was praised as a hero. James could now fly to Egypt in the captured vehicle without being fearful of being shot down.

The next day, James said his final goodbyes to the people who had cared for him and assisted him in achieving his goal. “I was a stranger to all of you but still treated me as one of your own. You treated me like a brother. I admire your undying loyalty and support for me in my quest to return how. I marvel at your values, brotherhood and intelligence. Again, I thank you all and I will never forget your kindness.” As James turned around to shake General Wallenberg’s hand, a tear glistened in his eyes. When he finally climbed into the cockpit of jet, he broke down crying because he knew that he would never see these people ever again.

As he flew towards Egypt, James knew that nothing was guaranteed. If the Golden Eagle was not on the pyramid, this means that he would be stuck in this world forever. Even if the eagle was there, there is no assurance that it takes him back home to his correct time period. However, James yearned for home, especially his elderly mother. He wanted to go back to his job in his small southern town. James realized that although his life can seem uninteresting to the outside world, he is happy with the decisions he made. During the ten-hour flight, James grew more sophisticated with a greater appreciation for life, the world and the role he plays in it.  As James landed in front of the pyramid of Khufu, the environment looked unchanged. He dashed out of the jet and ran towards the pyramid and began climbing up toward the spot where he first encountered the Golden Eagle. James constantly mumbled:

“Please be there, God please let it be there.”

 Smoke rose to the sky, leaving the impression that there will never be sunlight again. The smoke was so thick that it felt as though it was strangling me, almost wringing the air out of my body. The loud piercing sound of alarms wailed, off in the distance. I gazed over the land that I once called my home. My home was alien to me, unknown, foreign, unfamiliar.

I was rather frantic at first, in denial most likely; I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

I sat on the steps of a demolished building. The only building that I could still recognize; the only building that wasn’t turned to ruble. I pulled my shirt over my mouth so I could catch my breath and breathe air that was perhaps less toxic. I scanned the streets to see if there was anything that would help me figure out what happened. I started to question why I was still here. I have no clue what happened. The last thing I remembered was going to bed.

There was a slight breeze, the sound of grasshoppers outside my window. The peaceful calming whisper of the words, “I love you,” in my ears. It was the last words I had heard from my wife. The last person I had seen.

I woke to this, a desolate, barren, destroyed city, with no sign of life. At that moment, I realized something that made my heart drop. How did I get in the city? My house is nowhere near the city. “What’s happening!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, wanting anybody, anything, to hear me. There was nothing but the cracking of the fire that surrounded me and the slight breeze that fueled it.

I closed my eyes and tried to sleep on the hard steps. It took a while, but sleep came. It was unpleasant. I had a dream, no a nightmare. Some beast snatched my wife up and I couldn’t do anything about it. I was restrained to my bed by something. I woke to the same thing I fell asleep to, a destroyed city.

I got up from the steps of the building and walked. I walked until my feet hurt. Everything looked the same, some structures still stood tall with only the frame of the buildings left. Everything else had been turned to ruble.

I neared my house. When I came up to the end of the block, I saw something off in the distance. I was again in total shock. Both fear and excitement rushed through my body. My eyes widened, I felt like my body couldn’t move; I was stationary. My house was there. The entire structure was in tact. It was as if nothing had touched it. All of the houses around it were completely destroyed, burning; nothing bush ashes blowing in the wind making it appear like there was black snow.

My head was spinning. Should I enter? I questioned myself. This overwhelming fear was pulsing through my body. Without my command I start to move towards my house. I don’t want to move, but perhaps I did want to at the same time. As much as I told my body not to move I still continued forward. I came to the door. I felt like I was going to drop over, pass out, because my heart was beating so fast. It was beating fear through my body with each beat.

I reached the door; hand reached out. I twisted the handle of the door, which was ice cold. I pushed the door open and stood in the doorway. Confused on what to do now I stood there. Everything was exactly where it should be. Everything was fine.

I dropped to my knees. Confusion at this point was more overwhelming then my fear. I thought maybe if I just sat here that something would happen. Darkness approached and as did the cold of the night. However, I still sat in the same spot. Hunger set in, along with thirst.

I stood back up on my feet and decided I needed to walk in. I took a step inside. I could smell the usual smell of cinnamon from the candles. “Karen,” I whispered. No response. “Karen,” I said in a normal tone. Still there was no response. “Karen,” I said once more even louder. There was no response once more and a tear began to form. “Karen!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. I kept screaming her name. I kept hoping that my wife would hear. “Karen!”

It was silent. There was no answer. I stood in the middle of the living room. Looking around as if she was maybe hiding from me. Like this was some sick game of hide and seek. I didn’t want to play. I wanted to see my wife again; I wanted to pretend like everything I saw outside wasn’t real. I wanted to pretend everything went back to the way it was. In a way I wanted my house to be destroyed.

I looked over at a picture on the fireplace of my wife and I. We were on our honeymoon. I walked over to it and picked it up. Wishing that we were back on our honeymoon.

I picked my head up as I heard a sound behind me. I turned and as quickly as I turned I dropped to the floor once more. Stood before me was my wife. Alive, normal, healthy, beautiful, my wife, my wife was standing in front of me. My head was spinning. I got up and ran to her, wrapped my arms around her. I didn’t want to let go. “I love you,” the same peaceful words whispered into my ears. “I love you too.” I was so happy. As I talked to her about my day she just listened with a smile on her face. A smile that alone could light up the smoke filled sky. As much as I just wanted to sit there and lay with her the entire night I really wanted to get some sleep. As I started up the stairs Karen urged me to stay down here, but I insisted. I walked into my room.

Words can’t express how I felt in this moment. The overwhelming feelings that rushed back, the fear. I was so afraid. I was so afraid and so alone. My wife was lying there on my bed. There was so much blood that it seemed as though someone took a bucket of paint and poured it on her. Her body was mangled, extremities twisted in ways they shouldn’t be.  A creaking of the door behind me caught my attention and after seeing my wife’s twisted and mangled, I thought my fear couldn’t reach any higher levels, but it did. As I turned I saw my wife. What I thought was my wife. Standing in the door way. “I love you,” she whispered. With those words her head quirked and her body started to convulse. I wanted to aid her because she was my wife, she wasn’t but she was. I watched as she laid there squirming on the ground.

I walked over her body to get out of the room but didn’t take my eyes off of her. I started down the steps and the convulsing stopped. I wasn’t going to wait and see what happened. I was getting out.

I ran out the door. Ran down the street. Ran as far as I could. I ran until my feet hurt again. Then I ran some more. I was reaching the city; going back to the only place that still somehow made sense to me. I reached the building I sat at earlier. I tied getting a grasp on what was going on. Nothing made sense. It was over for me. I was going to kill myself. I was alone. There was nothing left for me, I didn’t understand what had happened here and I didn’t want to live anymore.

I walked into the building since it was still somewhat in tact. I took the stairs to the top floor. I couldn’t stop thinking about my wife the entire time. How my wife’s twisted body was just left there. How that person looked exactly like my wife, smelt like her too. Everything about her was the same. I walked to the edge where I could make clear that I would hit the ground and meet my fate. I closed my eyes and smiled. Knowing I would be with my wife soon. I felt warm. I could almost feel my wife with me. Her arms around me, whispering into my ears, “I love you.” The last words I shall hear.

I opened my eyes, to hear the words “I love you,” once again. I turn to find my wife standing there. “No, no it can’t be. You are not my wife! You do not love me! You are an imposter!” I grab a large piece of concrete that was once part of the wall, I ran at her and bashed her head. Over and over again I smashed the rock into her skull. Even after I knew she was dead I kept hitting her. There was blood everywhere, but she was dead for sure this time. “I love you,” those words came from elsewhere, from the door. My wife stood there saying those words. I looked down under me in disbelief as I had just bashed her head in. She was still under me, but in front of me at the same time. I’d had enough I ran to the edge and jumped. I was free, and I wouldn’t be alone anymore. 

The war had ended over a year ago. Radio signals about a month ago. Minutes before the first impending explosion, Robert Oppenheimer appeared on the television. Standing at the podium in a suit with his porkpie hat, he cared a grim filled look on his face. He looked at the camera before looking back at the top of the podium, where his speech was. Taking of his hat, he began to read his speech.
 "Hello, America, Russia, and the rest of the World-"

 He stopped himself, then began to speak again, with a penitence look on his face.

  "When me and the team at Los Alamos labs created the first atomic bomb, we created a peacemaker and the destroyer of worlds. When we watched the test of the very atomic bomb, we knew that we created a power that shouldn't be used in anyway, but we knew it would be used, but we hoped not to a magnitude like this. To America, Russia, and the rest of the World, I'm truly sorry for the creation of our demise."
All radios and televisions went to static afterwards. Screaming, gun fire and utter turmoil was all that could be heard through the thick, concealed ceiling of the shelter. Sitting back in the seat at my single-seater dinner table, Leer looked at the glass of water that was in front of him. Waiting for the slightest signs of disturbance in the water's flow, signaling the beginning to the end.
The glass fell over, with all of the water spilling out to the right side. The books began to fall off of their shelves, covering the floor in an assortment of titles and pages. The shelves began to rattle, shaking violently, with the glassware in the shelves beginning to hit the ground below; The wire hung lights shaking back and forth, to the breaking point.  Leer sat there in his seat, away from the razed environment that sat around him. The shaking, the swinging, and the shattering began to cease. Everything layer motionless, with not a sound being made or a movement. It was like time had stopped. Droplets of water began to hit the table, which was the only standing object in the room, next to the seated chair. The only sound was that of the chair running over the floor, creating a hissing screech. The though that he could be the only living creature for hundreds of miles, or possible the only one left in the world. His mind was running into all sorts of places, and he knew allowing it to continue would lead to regrettable results. He put his head down on the floor, looked at his watch and closed his eyes.
   That was over a year ago.  Leer has stayed in this unit since the bomb droppings, not having set foot out since days before the occurrence.  The thought of an outside world without life was terrifying to Leer, what could be even worse, there could be outside life, who reacted to him in a negative way. The food and water levels in the shelter are imminent to run out soon, leaving Leer with two options, dying of starvation in this shell, or exploring the outside world in hopes of survival. While one option holds promised death, the other one lays way for an unforeseeable future, where the unknown is. Sitting at his dinner table with his hands to his head, Leer looks at his watch with, then back into the distance, back at his watch, then back into the distance of his base, this place that was his home for so long, but it wasn’t his home. His home, or rather where his home once had sat, laid near the grounds of this base. What lay left of it he asked himself? Did anything within his home survive the explosion? He knew that none of these questions would be answered, unless he got out of his seat and went above ground.

  He removed his hands from his head, placing them on the table in front of him. He began to lift himself up, rising from his chair. He walked over to the kitchen cabinet that was filled with chipped and broken dishes. Feeling around the back of the cabinet, he begins to pull out a rucksack that’s covered in fragments of plate and dust. Leer puts the bag on the counter top underneath the cabinet, going through the sack. Within, there’s a 32 oz bottle of water, a first aid kit, a rain jacket, and a thin knife.

  Closing the bag, Leer puts his shoulders through the shoulder straps and begins walking towards the exit. Turning the vault like exit counter-clockwise to open it, he stopped and dropped to the floor. What could happen if he stepped outside? Would he die of radiation poisoning? Would it be a field of raze? What if the bombs never went off, and the noises he heard a year ago were from something else? He couldn’t concentrate, or bring himself to open the door. The thought made him sick to the stomach, but he knew it had to be done. Without opening the door, he would never know what awaited him on the other side. He got on his feet, grabbed the vault knob with both hands, and tired as hard as he could, while pushing forward. The door opened, and he fell through, landing on something that has been unseen, but not forgotten - the outside world. Putting his hands on the ground to get up, he felt a grainy material, like sand. Leer got to his feet, taking in deep breaths, clenching his eyes closed. The air was different than what that of the underground, it felt un-recycled, like what was below.

  No longer being able to take being without visions of what the new world looks like, Leer opened his eyes wide. Before him was what was the neighborhood he had once called his community. All that stood before were the remains of buildings that had once stood. Once fully bloomed pine streets were blow into charcoal sticks rising from the ground. The surface of it all was covered in all sorts of debris, which would rise into the air when a wind came by and picked it up.

  Starring out into the distance of it all, Leer just stayed standing there, motionless, barely breathing. The wind hitting his face, scattering the remnants of what’s left of the place he once called. A feeling of abandonment came over him, which was physically unseeable, but leaving him a mental wreckage. He wanted to turn back around, to enter his shelter and die there, but he was curious as to what this new world was like. Beginning to take a few steps forward, he was about to find out exactly what this transformed land held. The remnants of the buildings that once stood were charred pieces of metal now. Pieces that once created the foundations for modern architecture were now broken frames. Art and life was scorched to nothing. Stopping now, he looked down at the ground, where outlines of a doormat were thinly visible. Looking even closer, you could see the outlines of a few letters that had once been a apart of the mat. Leer got down on his knees to examine the letters even closer. He started to look at the letters closer and closer. He saw a “W”, followed by an “E”.

“We?” Leer said to himself.

But there was more than that. He started to see another letter, a “L”, then a “C”.

“Welc?”

More letters began to become visible, with an “O” coming next, followed by a “m” and “e.”

“Welcome.” 

            All throughout my life people have told me that I’m very well spoken. I take it as a compliment. Even though most of the people telling me that are friends of my parents, who say stuff like,

“Oh you’ve grown so much since the last time I’ve seen you.”

Or,

“Oh, you’ve gotten so much taller since last time.”

I think of myself as being pretty impressionable and easily influenced. If I see someone that I look up to doing something, I tend to mimic their actions because I look up to them and want to do things similarly to them. I think that both what I’ve been told and what I’ve assumed go hand in hand for me. I think it is because I tend to spend a lot of time around people who have wide vocabularies and are very articulate. According to my mom I’ve been that way from a very young age.

            I heard the phone ringing. I was only four years old and I loved answering the phone.

“Who could it be?” I thought to myself. “Is it for me? Is it about me?”

I picked up the phone.

“Hello.”

“Hello, am I speaking with um Karen?” the man behind the phone asked.

“No, this is her son, I’ll put her on.” “MOMMMM! Someone is on the phone calling for you.”

“Okay, thank you, Isaac.”

I walk into the other room to hand my mom the phone.  My mom put the phone to her ear.

“Hello… No thank you, bye!” said my mom as she violently hung up the phone.

“Who was that?” I asked.

“Oh it was just some annoying person trying to sell me something.”

“Oh okay.”

I kept wondering why my mom would be angry with someone for calling and trying to sell her something? It didn’t seem so horrible to me.

“Why were you so angry with the person calling?” I asked.

“I’m on a list called the “Do not call list” and I get really annoyed when those people continue to call me when I’m on a list that states I don’t want to hear from them.”

 Finding out that my mom didn’t like when people called our phone trying to sell something to her gave me something new to look out for while being at home.

            A few days later I was sitting at home one night with my mom. The phone rang. I jumped up to go answer it.

            “Hello.”

            “Hi, is this Karen?”

             “No, it’s her son.”

            “Oh okay my name is…”  

            “Are you her friend or are you just trying to sell her something?” I asked.

I heard laughter come from the other end of the line.

            “No, no, no I’m her friend. It’s her friend Susan.”

            “Oh, okay. She’s here. I’ll go get her.”

I handed my mom the phone. I listened to what she was saying just in case the caller had tricked me.

            “Hello… Oh hi Susan.” My mom said.

All of a sudden she started to laugh.

            “He really said that? No, no, no. He is only four years old.”

A few minutes later my mom got off the phone with her friend.

            “Isaac…”

            I interrupted her mid sentence.

            “Who was that mommy? What were you…?”

            My mom interrupted me.

            “She is a new friend of mine.”

            “Oh okay. What were you laughing at?”

            “Isaac, she thought you were a teenager because of the way you answered the phone.”

            How did I sound like a teenager? I thought to my self. Is that supposed to be a good thing or… I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Was my voice deeper than the average four year old? Did I have a wide vocabulary? I had no idea what could have led my mom’s friend to jump to that conclusion, but I guess I took it as a compliment.

             “Why did she think I sounded like a teenager?”

            “I don’t know but I heard you ask if she was either my friend or trying to sell me something so I guess it might’ve been the manner in which you talked to her.”            

How could asking such a simple sounding question make people think I’m more grown up than I actually am? On the outside I felt overjoyed and excited but on the inside I wasn’t sure how to feel.  It surprised the heck out of me that someone just, would assume that I was a teenager all because of a few things that I said.

            Before that, I never really had thought about how people’s ways of speaking can tell other people a story about them and their identity. James Baldwin who wrote the essay If Black English Isn’t a Language, Then Tell Me, What Is? Wrote,

             “Language, incontestably, reveals, the speaker. Language also, far more dubiously, is meant to define the other- and, in this case, the other is refusing to be defined by a language that has never been able to recognize him.”

            This quote is relevant to my story because it says that language can reveal a lot about a speaker.  Since the person had not ever met me or heard me speak, she couldn’t have known how old I was. Yet she thought I was much older. This occurrence really made me think about how powerful language can be. I guess now that I am sixteen years and in fact a teenager; maybe my language on the phone makes people assume that I am twenty-six. I’d love to find out how I can use it to my advantage, but I have no idea how that could occur.