English 3 - Rami Public Feed
Sci-Fi Story - Allison Patterson
The Experiment
“Don’t leave until you finish your homework” Jessica’s mother yelled down the stairs, barely catching her daughter before she headed out the door. “It’s only Saturday and I’ll be home early” said Jessica dashing out before hearing her mothers reply. She knew she’d be in for it when she came home but this was more important. The ringing has been going on for nearly 15 minutes. Jessica knew she wouldn’t last much longer.
As she raced down the empty Chicago streets, the winter air chilled her burning face. She always loves the cold; it’s Jessica’s security blanket. Jessica turned right, then left and soon vanished behind a vacant warehouse where the Doctor was waiting.
“3 months already? Jeez next time I’ll have to make these last longer” the doctor says in a sarcastic tone. “Jut fix it I have places to be” Jessica said as she pushes past the doctor and into his slaughterhouse like office. As Jessica marches into the back looking for her room, she sees other children in the same position as her. Close to the end at any moment but not willing to let go. As Jessica lies on the icy, steel table she thinks of the day she became one of the experiments.
It was January and her mother was behind in more than 4 months rent. Jessica knew the only reason she still had a home was because it was illegal to evict people in the winter, but winter fades. Jessica remembers the walk home from school when she met the doctor. That day she decided to take the back route it was faster than the main streets but dangerous. Jessica had a lot of homework so she went. She saw the vans with the tables and the ovens as they were moved into the warehouse. Then the doctor saw her and yelled, “Hey, do you wanna make some money?” Jessica said in a timid voice “ Sure.” The doctor walked her into the warehouse and told her to sit down. The doctor went over the logistics, the removal of the lungs, the heart, and the blood loss. He explained that they would be sold to people that need new organs or blood. He showed her the machine, the gears and wires that would soon fill her body. He told her she must keep it a secret because the machinery is not government regulated but, if it works, it could save many lives. He told her this would be the cure to cancer, HIV, and even natural death. Jessica just heard $5000 a month for life.
As the doctor finished up her “tune up” as he describes it, Jessica asks him why she can’t know his identity. The doctor stops fiddling with the gears and says, “Your question is too dangerous to answer.” He then claims he is finished and walks out the room. Jessica leaves the warehouse knowing some thing is not right but not being sure what. Then the ringing begins again.
Jessica falls to her knees; with not enought strength to stand she crawls back into the warehouse. She yells for the doctor, who arrives with a smile and says “another experiment gone wrong.” He yells down the hall “Hey Carmon, fire up the oven. This one is almost gone.”
“Jeez Jess I thought you’d be dead by now” the doctor says as he walks into her room. “Thanks for the support” Jessica replies as the doctor begins to change her IV, “When can I leave? It’s been 5 months.” The doctor insists that she will never leave. “Jessica, you still don’t get it? You have been here because you are broken. It’s only a matter of time before we toss you out. Like the others” says the doctor as he leaves the room.
Jessica, stunned by the doctor’s harsh words, gets up from her bed, removes her IV, and walks out of her room. She hasn’t seen sunlight in months and wants to feel the sun’s rays once more before it’s over. As Jessica walks down the hall she sees the new experiments waiting for their turn and her stomach begins to turn. Jessica thinks to herself “this is unacceptable.” At that very moment Jessica knows what she needs to do.
“I know you think I’m crazy but do an x-ray or something. I’m not insane.” Jessica explains to the police officer. “I find it hard to believe that some crazy doctor can actually turn people into machines without others noticing” says the police officer, “Listen write down the location and we’ll check it out.” Jessica is escorted out of the police station and told to go home. As Jessica begins her journey home her body begins to give out. She falls to her knees and her bones begin to dissolve. Where Jessica once stood, now lays a pile of gears and wires.
I write...
Why I Write
I write because I am told to
I write because I like to pass my classes
I write because I am graded on it
I don't write to express my feelings or to feel better
I write to ensure my high school success
I write to ensure my diploma
I write to be sure that never or ever will I have to say I received an F
Or a D
Or even a B
I write because I am told to
Not for freedom or expression
I write because I am told to
I write because I like to pass my classes
I write because I am graded on it
I don't write to express my feelings or to feel better
I write to ensure my high school success
I write to ensure my diploma
I write to be sure that never or ever will I have to say I received an F
Or a D
Or even a B
I write because I am told to
Not for freedom or expression
I write because I am told to
J. Pullins, Why I Write
In life, there are often times in which the established order is the norm. It becomes taboo to question it, and one must go about and simply accept it as fact. In situations where argument is invalid or holds no merit, the power of writing is necessary.
Throughout the world, powers and political influences the citizens of a nation. In situations where one's voice is silenced, the power of writing is freedom.
In everyone's life, there are times in the measures of the world prove too daunting and the problems are far greater than the solutions. The words to describe the feelings are non-existent, and the eloquence of a pen may be the only thing one can depend on. In situations of life, the power of writing is mandatory.
Throughout the world, powers and political influences the citizens of a nation. In situations where one's voice is silenced, the power of writing is freedom.
In everyone's life, there are times in the measures of the world prove too daunting and the problems are far greater than the solutions. The words to describe the feelings are non-existent, and the eloquence of a pen may be the only thing one can depend on. In situations of life, the power of writing is mandatory.
Why I Write
Why I Write
Expressing myself is hard enough
To say it out loud is really tough
Thinking what I say will be so bad
Worrying about if people would laugh
Figuring out what to do
How to get my words out for people too
Homework assignments easiet thing
Writing down my own words to say
Only thing I can do is write
Scared of the wrong I might
What to do when I can’t speak
Will my words I say get the best of me
Afraid of embarrassment from my peers
Now I just write down what you want to hear
Why I write is a question that I need to answer
Why I write something I can’t answer
Because I write for many reasons
My writing changes more then the seasons
Why I Write Poem
Why I Write
By: Ronald Jackson
A little boy came over to me
He asked me about slavery
He wanted to know what it was like
This is why a write
I was once a little boy
I went to school one day
My teacher asked me why I looked so sad
This is why I write
Then, time came to apply for high school
I looked through the requirements
I noticed that I had to prove that I was best for the school
This is why I write
The end is now near
I have proven my point
I am different
That is what I wrote
By: Ronald Jackson
A little boy came over to me
He asked me about slavery
He wanted to know what it was like
This is why a write
I was once a little boy
I went to school one day
My teacher asked me why I looked so sad
This is why I write
Then, time came to apply for high school
I looked through the requirements
I noticed that I had to prove that I was best for the school
This is why I write
The end is now near
I have proven my point
I am different
That is what I wrote
alysha
As i look at this blank piece of paper,
i see Nothing but a starting point.
Where each individual can express their self.
we write the story of our lives,
we write the stories of lies,
fiction or not,
it catches out eyes.
As our heart spills out on the paper & creates a story.........
CSheridan;Why I Write
Cyndi Lynn Sheridan
English 3 - Rami
October 19, 2011
Why I Write:
I write to express my emotions.
To release all the anger and frustration
that’s holding me back from accomplishing any task at hand.
I write to record the memories that make me who I am today.
I write to a friend that always listens and never judges.
I write to brainstorm ideas that can possibly make a difference in the future.
I write to feel free of speaking my voice.
I write to escape reality and live in dreams,
which helps me live forever.
In a world where secrets and privacy exists.
I write to concentrate and feel a sense of purpose in life.
I write to reveal the truth.
I write to try and accept any circumstance.
English 3 - Rami
October 19, 2011
Why I Write:
I write to express my emotions.
To release all the anger and frustration
that’s holding me back from accomplishing any task at hand.
I write to record the memories that make me who I am today.
I write to a friend that always listens and never judges.
I write to brainstorm ideas that can possibly make a difference in the future.
I write to feel free of speaking my voice.
I write to escape reality and live in dreams,
which helps me live forever.
In a world where secrets and privacy exists.
I write to concentrate and feel a sense of purpose in life.
I write to reveal the truth.
I write to try and accept any circumstance.
Why I Write
Writing isn’t easy for me.
How can I put this idea on paper in a way that makes sense?
Yawing all day because it took me all night to come up with a thesis.
Irritated because I didn’t get the grade I wanted.
Writing is something that I have to do to pass my classes.
Reality is that I rather use my spare time to do something that is easier for me.
I envy those who can create words that make me want to read them over and over.
The ease of writing comes to me occasionally.
Every once in a while I do write something awesome.
i write...- maddie walls
i write... by Maddie Walls
i write to feel the rhythm of the keys dance under my finger tips. to hear the clicking that marks the release of thoughts that have hung heavy in my head waiting for the sweet and sacred moment were they flow through my hands and mark a moment of pure exploration that frees the mind of the weight that weighs so heavy on every action it makes. i write to state the things that i can't say the things the lips will not move to express. it comes out in an easy pouring motion sloppy at first until the mind settles into the pattern a flow a grove that gives the sense of purpose or meaning. a connection of the mind and soul that creates a picture not with paint or pen but words that mean nothing but everything all at once that drives ones to the point of joy and sorrow which each passing word. the joy that the meaning that you have been searching so hard for draws nearer to you with every key that you hit but the sorrow that it will all come to an end and may remain as words that the world many never understand but meant so much to you that you shake to the point of explosion. writing leads one to the point of insanity having to find a way to express hours days years of though into short simple sentences that take only small parts of your soul which you have put firmly into these some time meaningless thought. it then leads you on a roller coster of ups and downs through the inevitable writers blocks, distractions and trials that lay in the path to true expression. i write to make to the impossibly far away feeling of completion. the feeling that everything has been said and nothing has been left unsaid or explored. my simple true is that i will never reach that blissful release i search for but i write for if the one day comes that i can find it i am there to greet it with pure passion into my arms and accept my truth, my writer identity. this is why i wrote, write and will forever continue writing…
