Irony story

 In the morning i begin my routine of getting the kids on the bus and letting my excitable dog out. I grab the paper from its deliverer he receives his weekly ten dollar tip. Reading the papers day in and day out describing the horrors of a mass murderer. How he's getting messy leaving the bodies about, instead of burying them or hiding them at all. Supposedly he still roaming. What i'm not quite understanding is how a person could go that far off the deep-end. I wonder if he has a family, children? Maybe he single. I've always wondered about the twisted horrors within their minds, thoughts of killing related with enjoyment sounds like acid to me, eating away at my skin. I wonder deeply how much their head hurts. My dog prances around the room happy to be eating his breakfast. I go on reading the sickening paper wondering what i myself would do if i found myself in the position of a mass murderer standing over me. would it be like in the movies? where you open the door at 2am wondering who's knocking and open the door in curiosity? The murderer has killed 15 people all in the same sick twisted way. They all are gutted. I hate the paper, yet i still read the damn thing. Eh the hell with it. I go about my day, listening to the squabbles of people whispering of the horrors in the night. Its like theyre talking about “the one who must not be named” people were not talking about voldemort. I try my best to ignore them, such annoyances, my brain feels fuzzy. I make my way home, feed my wagging dog and lay upon my bed. brain fuzzy and full i fall. The next morning i awake, i'm covered in blood, what? i rush to the bathroom and find a knife. what even? my mind starts to buzz again. blackness. Its nothing but acid.

Original/ unrevised

Pastoral

The mountains peek above the clouds

majestic, strong, withstanding horrors of winter

the tips of the mountain sprinkled with freeze dried snow

flowers cling to steep slopes 

protected by the rocks

the rocks weathered and rough

hey are truly everlasting

the trees are shortened at the heights

due to their lack of breath

much like the reactions of the passerbyer

truly remarkable as it stands

forever timeless

Epitaph

As she strongly insisted,

her memory is happy and unfaltering

As she insisted,

a wordless stone, to which i have altered

As i kindly disobeyed, 

because i know it make her smile 

Free write 

Hay spikes the nose sensations

The horses paw at their rubber mats

The grain room filled with their temptations

Flakes tossed upon the flats

The sun peeks through the weathered wood door 

The air warm and still 

Gentle beasts dance for more 

They are still hungry 

A saddle placed upon ones back

He snorts and dances in the hall 

Mounted and dressed in all his tack 

Unnerved by any fall 

A seat upon pads 

He prances, hands gripping leather 

All thoughts melt 

Because is just him and I together

Epitaph

As she insisted,

her memory is happy and unfaltering

As she required,

a wordless stone, to which i have altered

As i disobeyed,

because i know it make her smile

Free Therapy (Free Verse)

Hay spikes the nose sensations

The horses paw at their rubber mats

The grain room filled with their temptations

Flakes tossed upon the flats

The sun peeks through the wood door

The air warm and still

Gentle beasts beg for more

They haven't seemed to get their fill

A saddle placed upon ones back

He snorts and dances in the hall     

Mounted and dressed in all his tack

Unnerved by any fall

A seat upon felt

He prances, hands gripping leather

All thoughts melt

Because is just him and I together

Pastoral

The mountains peek above the puffy clouds

majestic, strong, withstanding horrors of winter

the tips sprinkled with freeze dried snow

flowers cling to steep slopes

protected by the rock faces

the rocks weathered and rough

they are truly everlasting

the trees are shortened at altitudes

due to their lack of breath

much like the reactions of the passerbyer

truly remarkable as it sits

forever timeless

Two Tone

The ham comes out glazed and punctured with sweet sweet pineapple, it sits upon the table, utterly mouthwatering. perfectly pink and moist, succulent. Its been carved to perfection each slab perfectly sliced. Upon my plate its cut into perfect squares, and covered in raisin sauce. The sauce is sweet with warm plump raisins, mixed with the juicy ham it creates a eruption of flavorful joy in my mouth. Every bite creates the same reaction much like when diet coke and mints mix together to create an explosion, just complete satisfaction. Easter ham is nothing but incredible.

The ham overcooked, and dry. I punch it around my plate with my fork and knife, unable to cut it. The fat has taken up 60% residence in the ham, destroying it. The raisin sauce is dry and cold, and the raisins are dry. i try once again to cut the stone ham. Nope its not stone its a diamond, unable to crush or cut. Easter ham is far from any food id like to eat.

Distillation

Depicting the intentions of humans in the passage, the narrator describes how people (scientists) can go past the point of feeling bad for plants and animals by hurting them to potentially help other people in the future using vivid imagery, dramatic irony, and hyperbole. Painting out dramatic images, the narrator describes when the scientists “stick pins through the miserable wretches, or cut them up, without a pang of remorse, into little pieces” to also display the irony that “nine times out of ten” scientists “take to torturing something -and they firmly believe they are improving their minds” its ironic because they are hurting living things to improve the lives of others. Hyperbole is distinct when the narrator speaks of “pouring over the spiders insides with a magnifying glass”... “or cut them up...into little pieces” reason being because its not as brutal as the narrator makes it. The narrator brings together a piece depicting the reasons a scientist can be depicted as a mindless fool, however from peoples point of view they are doing better for all humankind.

To the chinese people who made my dress,

 To those responsible for creating the (masterpiece) to which is considered an evening dress. I am aware of the slave work you have put into the (dress) or whatever you'd like to call that thing. I also understand that you have put money into that pathetic dress, although i'm sorry to inform you but that so called dress is nothing but a waste of perfectly good material, ruined by your careless craftsmanship and lack of care, and poor advertisement. I can assure you that nothing about that dress is the same as the pictures you had provided to me. Other than looking like a pink jellyfish the zipper also broke upon unzipping to which i can also assure you has nothing to do with my size. I'm not requesting a partial refund, simply because i don't want this dress, honestly if much rather watch it burn, then it may be considered pretty. I want nothing but a complete refund, not only because you have provided me with something that was broken and not as advertised, but because i need that money to repurchase another dress. I in addition would also like to be refunded the $60 it will cost to return the dress to your godforsaken country in only god knows where. I'm very not sorry for this intended anger embedded in this letter, but i see it as nothing but necessary. I have the right to a full refund and i expect to get it. Thanks for your time.

Sincerely,

Mickayla Shepard

200 word

 Sometimes i sit in the sun, just staring at the marshmallow fluffed clouds, making up the shapes all by myself- sometimes they’re in the shapes of dogs, rabbits or penguins, although at other times they’re fluffy and look soft as the grass i sit on- the skys are blue, much like the ocean-but not rough like the ocean- soft and smooth like watercolor paint on a wet canvas as if the sky is painted, although everyone knows the sky isnt actually painted, and the clouds are not cotton balls put in random shapes, the clouds are nothing but the evaporated water-water that has evaporated from the blades of grass that i sit upon- although i still ponder thoughts of laying upon their plush surfaces-even though everyone knows that you'll just fall through and end right back where i sit, upon the grass all alone, even though i'm not alone, with the birds flying above-also admiring the clouds- and the animals down her in the grass with me, and sometimes i also ponder if the animals themselves look upon the sky towards the clouds and see themselves in the shapes they form into, even though we all know its all in our imagination.

Short story

  I lay by the fire, slowly drifting to sleep. The kids toys strewn about the living room and I find some among my bed, somehow to comfort me I guess. My mother strokes my hair. There is occasional sharp stabbings of pain in my right side but I ignore it, I wish for my family to smile not cry. It never bothers me, and it never will.

   I've been to the doctors three times this week, they've told my mother and father I have something called cancer, which is twisting its way through my intestines. They said there was nothing they could do. I’m not really sure what that entails but for some reason my family has changed in a way. They've brought me out for long strolls in the woods, we play Frisbee more, and Mother has even given me some extra food, but I wish they weren't different, I want them to be normal like when I was young. 

   Back in the day when I had a spring in my step, my mother would take me for weekly "daycare" as she called it, although to me it was a time I could romp around and play rough with my friends. I could play Frisbee with my Parents forever without ever getting tired. I could eat mounds of food without ever getting full. I could stay up all night pretending to protect the house from intruders making noises at anything that moved, and scaring my parents when they came downstairs for a drink. It used to be so easy.

  Now I’m no longer young. Tonight things finally feel normal to a point. I wasn't hungry but Mother fed me at five anyways, the kids, as always, laid a toy or two upon my bed. The sharp pains seem to subside and then they come again. I lay down on the old couch next to the fire. My mother sits beside me and strokes my hair. I feel myself fading into a deep slumber, but this feels different. At that moment just before I drifted I thought of things I’m proud of. Every day I start the day without caffeine. I’m always cheerful, ignoring my aches and pains. I never complain and bore people with my troubles. I eat the same food every day, and for that I am always grateful. I always understand when Mother and Father are too busy to give me time. I can overlook when people take things out on me. I can face the world without lies and deceit. Lastly I can love unconditionally. Because I am, my family’s dog. 

Free-Write

  It was Christmas eve. Fog stuck to the tarmac at Lindbergh field. I sat slouched on a lumpy chair in the lobby waiting for someone whom no longer stood waiting for me. The chair at this point had become impossible to be in, it use to be new and plush. I arose from the chair and wandered down the corridor. I remembered how our hands melted together as we walked down this very same hall three Christmases ago. I stopped and glanced out the window to peer into the courtyard in the front of the tarmac. I still see you sitting there, waiting, why couldn't I drop theses memories that haunted me.
  It was at this tarmac 3 years prior that my boyfriend and husband to be waited for me here. I was running late because of all the damn traffic. He decided he'd take a cab because it was Christmas after all and he wanted to see me, and I wanted nothing more than his embrace. It had been so long since id last been held by him. It turned out that it was an accident. A greyhound bus slid sideways. The taxi cab side swiped and thrown into the woods. There were no survivors.
Every Christmas since then 1 show up exactly at 5:00 wishing I hadn't been late.

Self-Deprecation

   I'm always a very protective person of my animals. Being a lover of all living things, I think I can give myself that label although sometimes its to a fault. It makes my skin crawl when I hear of people abusing animals, when all I want to do is save them. I also hate when people say I have too many animals, or animals I'm not allowed to have. This makes me more angry than most likely intended. The first thought that comes to my head is, "Leave me alone I'm saving these animals, look at them! They're happy and healthy, go mind your own businesses." My anger is my weakness.

   I sat sinking into my living room couch, with an abstract mind, just admiring the sunny lazy day. I heard an ominous knocking on my door, disrupting my absent minded thoughts. (Now let me let you in on a little secret, I don't have visitors. So this knocking startled me and gave me a knot in the pit of my stomach) I got up off my smooshy couch and walked around into the kitchen and peered through the window to see who the guest of honor could be. Of course it was no other than my stout, paunchy, rude neighbor, to whom if you haven't guessed is one of my least favorite people on this planet. Id pondered what she could possibly want, excluding the memories of my rooster crowing at 3:00, then 4:00, then again at 5:00 in the morning, then I gave up and watched her descend down my rickety apartment stairs hoping shed fall. I went to the fridge and retrieved a glass of water and went to the living room windows so I could make fun of her waddling down my dirt driveway, although she was nowhere to be seen. I thought deeply as to how fast she could walk, and I knew it was nothing faster than a penguin. I opened my porch door to investigate as the warm summer air engulfed me, it was such a nice day. I crept onto the edge of the landing searching for the land whale. Then I spotted her, behind my dumpster, over my coop, TAKING PICTURES. This rude cynical miscreant was on my property, uninvited, taking illegal pictures of my rescued chickens. I felt my face heat and anger seethe from my body. I stood up, no longer caring if she saw me and said in a stern pissed off way.

““Can I help you?!”” She of course was startled which was good, I hoped shed faint of a heart attack.

““You'’re not allowed to have these animals”” she spit. Now I had hit top hatred for this woman. I would have given her free eggs if she asked nicely. “”I went to the town hall and you didn't’t pull a permit, you can’t have them”” she was defensive and I stood silent trying to hold my tongue. “”Also how many dogs do you have anyways? It’s a law you can only have four without a kennel license”” she still was on the warpath. So I spat right back.

““I have two females of my own, one foster dog, and my mom has one.”” I was melting with anger. “

“That’s FIVE dogs”” she stressed on five, she obviously had to go back to school if she can’t count that I actually only had four.

““Actually that’s four dogs, learn to count.”” I wish my words were bricks I could throw at her head. She was set aback by the comment. But then retaliated like a viper.

"Well, they bark". My blood instantly began to boil. The reason being, because they use to have a German Shepherd that in fact lived outside and barked 24/7 but my dogs that bark when they want to come in is such an inconvenience to her. I brought this up to her and she began to protest, although I interrupted her dead sentence and told her to stop talking because she was doing nothing but lying to herself and to me. That shut her up. Finally shed shut her flap of a mouth. "You can't have these chickens, you don't have a permit and they are farm animals" words at this point were practically firing out of my mouth at this point.

"Well what if I don't get rid of them? What will happen then?"

She responded nastily, "Well then the town will send you a notice, to make you get rid of them" I pondered my next thought, but still was pissed she was fighting with me on my property after taking pictures so I replied with a simple snooty

"Okay, well, I'll be waiting for that letter" I watched her turn and as I said awhile before, waddle slowly down my driveway. I was so angry I began to cry, because she was just an obnoxious neighbor, but I loved my chickens and I didn't want to get rid of them. Three weeks later and nothing from the town. Still, I decided it be in the best interest for my roosters and chicken to live with my mom to be free ranged and without having the threats of being taken away forever. My chickens are now happily living on the country side.

Sometimes our anger can get the best of us and can cause us to become a little crazy. Of course I still extremely dislike my neighbor, and I would like to see her fall so I could point and laugh. Although she did have a point about my noisy roosters in the morning. In the end we just need to take deep breaths and remember the world will not end; sometimes we have to assure ourselves and be our own rock in the world that threatens to blow us away like a singular balloon in a windstorm.