Ack! You have to love and hate technology. After a few difficulties, I've finally been able to post now. :)
I'm the other writing relative, the younger and more inexperienced one. Ever since I was in first grade, becoming an author was my main goal. Various failed attempts now led me to where I am; in the midst of writing a book! None of my works are really on hand right now, but eventually I'll post something else here. For now, everybody (including my second cousin) will have to be content with a few random phrases I thought up today.
Only a loser accepts defeat; only a hero takes the fall.
If you give me money to listen to your babble, I'll consider paying attention.
Thanks for visiting our humble blog!!!
-Stacie
Monday, May 14, 2007
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Fear of Revolution
Papa brought me to the square today. I had avoided that place like the plague, for it is a place of blood and hatred. The ‘citizens’ executed the nobles by the dozens each day as well as the rich and poor. All innocents, trapped in the fear and fanatical ravings of that butcher, Robespierre.
I did not dare speak these thoughts as we entered the square, elbowing our way through the white, blue and red crowds. My mouth faltered through fear not only of my zealous father, but of the bloodthirsty mob. Any sign of treachery against the republic results in beheading, the threat snuffed out like a candle. A very effective method.
“Long Live the Republic!” The multitude screamed suddenly and hoarsely. Modestly dressed mothers of soldiers, revolutionist teens, poor wretches huddled in doorways, their reeking bodies held upright by the wooden frame, cheering at the deaths of their betters.
“You will see history created before your very eyes” my father mumbled in my ear, his worn face exultant, eyes lifted and bright: pinpricks of sunlight caught in his blue eyes. My blue eyes.
Though our eyes are the same, we do not see the revolution in the same light. Papa, like so many supporters of the revolution, feel the only chance of freedom, equality and fraternity is to destroy all remnants of the former government. However, can they not see that if we destroy one tyrant another will simply take his place?
It is up to the people to bring equality to the land. The leaders do not create an irresponsible noble class, and a riotous poor class. These people act this way because their natures dictate such actions. Rather than increase suffering through bloodshed of all classes, and adding fear and food shortages and fighting, we as a people striving for peace must first act peaceful to receive peaceful treatment.
I ache to shout this truth to the multitude, but I know this would only add my worthless blood to the cause of the revolution. Even my prickling eyes must hold their tears. Class! None of it matters. These are women, children, and honest men dying. I pray to God this triumph of Satan will fail; I pray someday people will see their injustice; I pray men will achieve their equality through equality; I pray this horrible nightmare would end!
Thud.
I look up from my musings, the loudest cry yet meeting my ears soon after. “Long Live the Republic!”
Drawn helplessly, my eyes rose to the blood soaked platform housing the guillotine. One man stood in front of the jeering, gaping mouths- the din deafening. From his hand hung a head, blood pouring in thick dark streams from the severed throat. I gagged and swerved, fearful of getting sick. My father caught my arm in an iron grip, halting my retreat.
“I regret the circumstances, daughter. It is an ugly sight. However, now the king is dead, the republic shall succeed and there shall be peace.”
“The king…?”
“That was his devilish head you saw.”
The king. Murdered by his own subjects simply for wanting to live.
My father leads me away from the guillotine, back through the faceless people. I try not to blink, for the king’s head waits behind my eyelids to haunt me- the staring eyes, the gaping mouth, the silent plea for justice. A stranger-yet still like me. He must have loved this country once- before the madness struck. I wonder if I will ever have the chance to love this country once more.
-Jessica
I did not dare speak these thoughts as we entered the square, elbowing our way through the white, blue and red crowds. My mouth faltered through fear not only of my zealous father, but of the bloodthirsty mob. Any sign of treachery against the republic results in beheading, the threat snuffed out like a candle. A very effective method.
“Long Live the Republic!” The multitude screamed suddenly and hoarsely. Modestly dressed mothers of soldiers, revolutionist teens, poor wretches huddled in doorways, their reeking bodies held upright by the wooden frame, cheering at the deaths of their betters.
“You will see history created before your very eyes” my father mumbled in my ear, his worn face exultant, eyes lifted and bright: pinpricks of sunlight caught in his blue eyes. My blue eyes.
Though our eyes are the same, we do not see the revolution in the same light. Papa, like so many supporters of the revolution, feel the only chance of freedom, equality and fraternity is to destroy all remnants of the former government. However, can they not see that if we destroy one tyrant another will simply take his place?
It is up to the people to bring equality to the land. The leaders do not create an irresponsible noble class, and a riotous poor class. These people act this way because their natures dictate such actions. Rather than increase suffering through bloodshed of all classes, and adding fear and food shortages and fighting, we as a people striving for peace must first act peaceful to receive peaceful treatment.
I ache to shout this truth to the multitude, but I know this would only add my worthless blood to the cause of the revolution. Even my prickling eyes must hold their tears. Class! None of it matters. These are women, children, and honest men dying. I pray to God this triumph of Satan will fail; I pray someday people will see their injustice; I pray men will achieve their equality through equality; I pray this horrible nightmare would end!
Thud.
I look up from my musings, the loudest cry yet meeting my ears soon after. “Long Live the Republic!”
Drawn helplessly, my eyes rose to the blood soaked platform housing the guillotine. One man stood in front of the jeering, gaping mouths- the din deafening. From his hand hung a head, blood pouring in thick dark streams from the severed throat. I gagged and swerved, fearful of getting sick. My father caught my arm in an iron grip, halting my retreat.
“I regret the circumstances, daughter. It is an ugly sight. However, now the king is dead, the republic shall succeed and there shall be peace.”
“The king…?”
“That was his devilish head you saw.”
The king. Murdered by his own subjects simply for wanting to live.
My father leads me away from the guillotine, back through the faceless people. I try not to blink, for the king’s head waits behind my eyelids to haunt me- the staring eyes, the gaping mouth, the silent plea for justice. A stranger-yet still like me. He must have loved this country once- before the madness struck. I wonder if I will ever have the chance to love this country once more.
-Jessica
Thursday, May 10, 2007
A Quick Mission Statement
To clarify before posting:
We are not great writers.
We are not professionals.
We are not award-winners.
We are not popular.
We haven't even graduated high school yet.
However, my (second) cousin, Stacie, and I don't care. We're going write. And we are going to keep writing until we are great professional, award-winning authors with best-sellers.
And, if this is not contained in either of our destinies-so be it. We've lived our whole lives without the public's attention-that will never stop us from indulging in our passion and growing in our literary ability.
Along the way, Stacie and I hope to prove to the doubtful public (sorry to say-but including you, Grumpy Old Bookman) that the overemphasized image of teenagers acting irresponsibly;caring more for text-messages than the stop-sign they just blew through; knowing more acronyms than grammer; mouthing off to parents and authority figures; giving off an overall image of someone who doesn't appreciate everything they are so fortunate to have.
Surprising as it may sound to some judgemental or prejudiced ears, the rude acts of a few far outweigh the good of the whole.
Through growing in our writing and sticking through the difficulties faced by all authors-adult or otherwise- perhaps two ordinary relatives can show how enthusiastic and dedicated the wronged side of teenager-hood can be.
Oh, and maybe share some of our tips we learn along the way.
PS If anyone out there knows how to indent paragraphs in the posts, will you let us know?
Thanks!
We are not great writers.
We are not professionals.
We are not award-winners.
We are not popular.
We haven't even graduated high school yet.
However, my (second) cousin, Stacie, and I don't care. We're going write. And we are going to keep writing until we are great professional, award-winning authors with best-sellers.
And, if this is not contained in either of our destinies-so be it. We've lived our whole lives without the public's attention-that will never stop us from indulging in our passion and growing in our literary ability.
Along the way, Stacie and I hope to prove to the doubtful public (sorry to say-but including you, Grumpy Old Bookman) that the overemphasized image of teenagers acting irresponsibly;caring more for text-messages than the stop-sign they just blew through; knowing more acronyms than grammer; mouthing off to parents and authority figures; giving off an overall image of someone who doesn't appreciate everything they are so fortunate to have.
Surprising as it may sound to some judgemental or prejudiced ears, the rude acts of a few far outweigh the good of the whole.
Through growing in our writing and sticking through the difficulties faced by all authors-adult or otherwise- perhaps two ordinary relatives can show how enthusiastic and dedicated the wronged side of teenager-hood can be.
Oh, and maybe share some of our tips we learn along the way.
PS If anyone out there knows how to indent paragraphs in the posts, will you let us know?
Thanks!
Jessica
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