Ryan's Webpage

Welcome to Ryan's Webpage! First of all, a little about me. I'm fourteen years of age, and really enjoy creating things such as stories, art, music, and various other arts. I play the piano and am a retired violin virtuoso. Some of my other passions include nature, simplicity, reading, and taking long walks. Writing and drawing would probably be my lifeblood, however. I aspire to be an architect or a computer programmer, and a part-time writer of either fantasy or sci-fi. I have had a knack for computers ever since the first grade, and already have several other webpages done in pure HTML, but a Wysiwyg editor makes it easier and somewhat more fun. Architecture interests me because I love drawing buildings and blueprints, and designing art glass and woodwork. Some of my heroes include Frank Lloyd Wright, who made brilliant structures that were meant to be spacious and harmonious with nature, but are also ingenious and beautiful. I also admire Henry David Thoreau, who stressed simplicity in life. Some of my favorite authors are Richard Adams, Orson Scott Card, Michael Crichton, J.K. Rowling, and Brian Jacques. All right, enough about me! Have fun exploring my page, and remember comments are always appreciated! Send them here.

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Activities this Year My Favorite Samples of Writing
My Favorite Books List Mitochondria (Incomplete)
About my Broken Leg High Priestess (Incomplete)
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Favorite Pieces of Writing


Mitochondria (Incomplete)
A Work of Sci-fi
[This story is censored in places so it is appropriate for school purposes]
Dust motes scattered as an electronic datapad was set on the podium. They swirled, like snow flurries, choosing their own, unique course. The datapad was turned on. The audience fell silent, as if their tongues had been suddenly ripped out- perhaps by the piercing glare of the thin man who stood before them. And so began the solemn initiation.
“They have been around for millions of years.” The man said, his fingers quivering, following the text on the screen with his dull gray eyes. He was interrupted by a blast of sound from a public announcement system.
“Mitochondria number five-hundred-fifty-one RND, you are late. Please report to the generating room or risk termination,” was the scratchy instruction. The man cleared his throat and glared at the P.A.
“Before I was interrupted by a mere battery attention announcement, I was saying.... They have been around for millions of years, newcomers. They have survived even through apocalypses, the great nuclear war of 321 N.A. when that terrible nuclear winter occurred, and all the plant and animal life was killed, when the electromagnetic pulse destroyed our electronics.
“They survived, as we did. Their way of life is balanced and perfect. So we followed them. They led us to balance. Now it is 4561 N.A. Have we not still survived based on their template of life?”
“You have, and more than sufficiently,” replied the newcomers, with little expression.
“Of course we have! Now you choose to join us, not live in that disorganized outside world of ruffians and idiots. You will now live in a perfect metallic spherical expanse- a wonderful community with uncountable living quarters trimming the walls that can be accessed from multiple docks. You have chosen to join our formidable system. We are coming to power! We always shall bear the reins of strength and glory, and no one will stop us! We shall survive forever, just like cells!”
“Yes, Nucleus De’taran. You shall be eternal,” The reply was almost ominous.
“No,” corrected Nucleus De’taran, “We shall be eternal.”

* * *

Gharith quickly gathered his possessions from his unmade bunk. Ducking under the concrete awning, he hailed a transport vehicle. Eventually, one veered out of the fray of the main airway. Gharith sighed, and quickly boarded the transport vehicle with a sigh. The driver looked at Gharith as they began to accelerate.
“Eh-heh.”
“What is it?”
“You’re a Mitochondria, aren’t you?”
“I should think it would be obvious.”
“Well- you bangs do a good job of concealing your brand.”
Gharith sighed again, annoyed. He quickly brushed back his raven bangs to reveal the burnt imprint that made him pitied and the victim of contempt by almost everyone, except his own kind.
“Now can you see?”
“Aye, 551.”
“My name is Gharith. I’m a person, not a number. ”
“If you say so. So, are you on duty today?”
“Unfortunately. Yesterday they took 5,000 Gigs from me. My head still throbs.”
“God, that’s gotta’ hurt. Lucky I wasn’t born into a Mitochondria family! Did you hear that an ancient Mitochondria was fried a couple weeks ago? His brain was just a useless wad of gray matter when they examined it, all used up. Geez, they sucked every drop of power from him- over five hundred nonillion mega-gigs. He was an old fart anyway. Born in 4460 N.A., I think. How old is that? Lesee… ”
The driver had barely enough time to pull out his palm supercomputer when Gharith replied with the answer quietly, boasting impressive accuracy.
“One-hundred and one.”
“How’d you do that? Y-you’re a Mitochondria!”
“Well, since we’re deprived of everything technological, we Mitochondria have to learn and perfect those sort of things with numbers. It just sort of comes easy to me, I guess.”
“Geez- I mean, I have some comprehension of numbers, just in case- but to do that sort of thing in your head? You’re certainly the most intelligent Mitochondria I’ve ever met.”
“I speak out. Many feel too lowly to converse with the common.”
“You mean all Mitochondria can do that?”
“Most of them.” The conversation came to a halt as the silver transport vehicle swerved to a dock.
“Well, we’re here- the generating room, right?”
Gharith nodded , with a shudder.

* * *

Gharith collapsed on the stuffed woolen cot that lay worn on the floor of the small cube of his concrete living space. Beads of sweat and tears covered his face, stinging his bleeding lip on which he had bitten to quench the burning pain of the “generating process”. The searing pain still ebbed in his brain, pulsing with every exhausted heartbeat. He still felt the merciless sucking feeling- of the life streaming from his body- coursing from his blood and his head to the pin inserted into his neck, then into the huge energy vacuoles in which the energy he provided was stored. It felt as if shards of broken glass were streaming throughout every vein and artery. But slowly, too slowly, this pain subsided, leaving Gharith shaking as if he was an ancient old lady.
Gharith recalled when it had been very bad. At age five, his brain was developed enough to begin “the process”. After his first session, he had left the generating room unconscious and soon lapsed into a coma for several weeks, during which he was fed crushed energy capsules via a tube in his nose. While Gharith was still unresponsive, the generating continued religiously each day, for no one cared about his life. It was during these generating sessions when he lost most of his childhood memories, because Gharith’s dormant brain was susceptible to loss when unprotected by his strong will. After this experience, Gharith learned to bear the pain of the generating process and stay conscious, for those who didn’t did so at the expense of their memories.
A teenager about Gharith’s size and age peered at him from the small circular entrance of his meager home. Gharith was still gasping heavily, struggling to draw in as much fresh air as possible. His eyelids, formerly closed wincing with pain, fluttered at the detection of footsteps. The onlooker’s flushed, healthy face was etched with deep shadows, but Gharith recognized him as his gaze drew over the strands of crimson hair that cascaded over his forehead, shading his eyes.
“Gharith?” The person stuttered, brushing his bangs from his amber-flecked eyes.
“Don’t… worry,” Gharith said with a pant. “I’m… I’m just a bit exhausted. C-come in, Acer.” He tried to be inviting even though the cramped space was barely ample for the both of them. Acer climbed in, crouching by Gharith’s cot. The blanket of darkness in Gharith’s small concrete cavern that he called home immersed Acer’s body in a layer of frigid air.
“They really did you this time, didn’t they?” Acer said, struggling a smile.
“Yeah.” Came the solemn reply, and a similar weak smile from Gharith.
“So, uh- do you feel up to going someplace? I was thinking we could go get a drink.” Acer twiddled his thumbs, not really knowing what to say. Then, his fiery nature seemed to be unearthed from nowhere. “It’s not fair what they do to you! To us! Aren’t we people, too?” His voice was toned with a sharp piercing anger.
“They don’t consider us people, Acer. You’ve got to understand that. We’re things- batteries… numbers! Remember- freedom is a state of mind. Even if we are prejudiced, we can still be free because we can think what we want to think. We have our memories. They can’t take that away from us.” Gharith eyes were focused on Acer, and his voice was toned with a certain air of wisdom.
“Yes they can! They use their [[censored]] machines and suck our brains away! They can take our mind away from us, and they are. Nucleus [[censored]] it, Gharith- how can you be so calm about this?” Acer’s hair seemed slightly more ruddy as he became absolutely livid.
“Don’t swear, Acer!” Gharith replied in a hushed whisper. “Besides, there’s nothing we can do. We just have to accept our duty.”
“No we don’t! I’m not taking any of that [[censored]] from them! I’m not!” Acer pounded his fist down on the smooth concrete ground.
“You always have before.”
“Well, I was na´ve- I didn’t understand! I was just a little kid, and thought that generating was just a normal thing that they did to everyone, Superiors and Mitochondria. But as I grew up I realized that we were being treated differently than the Superiors. They wore fine robes, we wore drab, roughly woven tunics in shades of white and gray. They had huge apartments overlooking the vast outside world of the cell. We had small, uncomfortable living spaces. I never saw a one of them set foot in a generating room. This is when I realized that everyone else considered us scum.” Acer’s voice was less harsh, and more pained as he confided this to Gharith.
“Life isn’t fair, Acer. All Mitochondria loathe their position. But the Superiors are too powerful. We can’t fight them…” Gharith sympathized with Acer’s feelings, but knew nothing could be done. His voice was sad and reluctant to relate the truth- Rebellion was next to impossible.
“If we were organized we could successfully rebel!” Acer’s face grew excited and hopeful. “The Mitochondria are greater in number than the Superiors….”
“…and lower in knowledge and technology,” Gharith finished, his voice doubtful.
“Not you! You’re really smart! You could teach us all to be smart!”
“You can’t teach someone to be smart. That someone has to learn, Acer.”
“Sometimes you think you’re as smart as that Nucleus [[censored]], Gharith. Oh well, come on… let’s get a drink. Maybe if I get you drunk you’ll agree to my plan.” Acer had himself a good laugh, as his eyes lit up and danced.
“You’re really dumb. Come on, we’ll catch a transport.”

* * *

“Nucleus De’taran?” A woman dressed in robes of blue and green velvet peered into the half-spherical chamber. As she stepped into the room, her footsteps echoed eerily and she could hear each swish of the heavy fabric against her steadily moving legs. She had never been here before. She gazed at the intricate circular tiled pattern on the floor, chips of crimson, gold, and aquamarine reflected her face thousands of times as if she were gazing into a many-faceted gemstone. The room was huge and spacious, the half-sphere shape of it seeming to soar up eternally. The walls were made of intricately stained glass that sent patches of colored light to grace the floor.
Besides the glass walls and tiled floor, the woman noted a decorative arc of plants that trimmed the gently curving walls, basking in the light from the world outside of the Nucleus. Crimson fabric upholstered chairs with slender chrome legs and backs were placed facing each other all around the tiled design on the floor. The woman felt a strange aura as the warm air circulated around her. She was in the very heart of the giant metallic globe that was their cell-based world. A powerful feeling, some type of an indescribable energy flowed through the woman’s limbs. She continued walking forward, towards the huge computers and control panels situated exactly across from the door.
The woman found the Nucleus’ stately chair empty, and took a closer look at the control panels. They controlled everything from the temperature and brightness of the cell to the cell’s police force in case there was trouble. A large screen showed a huge blueprint of the entire cell, and showed millions of small dots moving around with even tinier identification numbers following them.
“This computer tracks all mitochondria movement!” The woman exclaimed in hushed amazement.
“Indeed, it does,” a hollow, yet authoritative voice resounded from behind her. The woman whipped around to see the wrinkled face of the Nucleus, his eyes mere slits as he gazed upon her with disapproval.
“Your Excellency!” exclaimed the woman, bending at the waist in an awkward bow. His voice shot back as if beams of laser fire.
“Who are you and who gave you approval to enter the nucleus? These are my private chambers and it is absolutely forbidden to enter them!” The Nucleus’ voice was harsh as he snapped, his eyes focused directly on the woman who recoiled as much as she could against the computers with every word.
“The guards allowed me entry when I told them I had important business,” explained the woman meekly, practically shivering from the Nucleus’ powerful, frightening presence.
“I knew I shouldn’t have chosen younger guards to replace my older, more dedicated pair. These new guards are weaklings and have no respect for my authority! Something must be done,” the Nucleus said to himself, striding across the tiled design to his computers, brushing the woman aside. His bony fingers artfully pressed several buttons.
“By the glory of your infinite reign, sire- might I be permitted to leave now that you are handling this problem?” The woman said, her tense shoulders calming.
“Oh no, no, no, my dear! I command that you remain here!” The Nucleus cackled, making the woman uneasy. “It will only be a matter of time, I have already activated it.”
“W-what do you mean, your grace? Activated what? I…” The woman stopped mid-sentence, her eyes clouding over as she gasped for air and clutched her stomach. Soon, her eyes became blank, and her body motionless as the last signs of life fleeted from her body. She fell backwards with a void thud that echoed on the stained glass dome.
“I activated your termination, along with those two irresponsible guards,” the Nucleus said needlessly. “The cell disposes of all waste!”

To be Continued...

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High Priestess (Incomplete)
A Work of Sci-fi/Fantasy
I looked out the window, placing my hands on the cold glass gingerly. Daelius seemed so far away. My home was slowly moving away from me. Although Daelius was slowly diminishing like old thoughts that one yearns to remember, the happy times and memories remained, engaging my mind in endless circles of emotions and events.
I thought about the crisp blue sunlight of Daelius. Warm, unlike the smooth windowpane on which I rested my long fingers. I thought about the fresh, clean Daelius air. It was much fresher than this stuffy air in the commuter. I inhaled sharply; wondering what the air on Chivia would be like.
Chivia. That was another aspect invading my thoughts. My brain pulsed with the long contemplated query. No matter how much I tried to make this query disintegrate, it remained in my brain like a short tune that plays over and over in your head. The query was monotonous.
Why? Why? Why must I go to Chivia to be trained? Why must I feel like an over-plumed bird, wearing glittering robes that are bothersome and itchy? I had so many questions. If my dear Pedagogue back on Daelius had heard me ask these questions, his first answer would be intelligent. Yet, they were such simple questions. Even I knew the answers. The brain will not accept answers sometimes, and I suppose that was the case with me. Yes, I knew the answer to my query. I knew the answer to every one of them.
I had been handpicked, handpicked by the Empress herself. It was a great honor in this way. But why had I been picked? I had been happy on Daelius. Again, my Pedagogue shunned me in my head. Again, needless questioning. I knew why I had been picked. I had the special scar. The Empress’s prophecy had been fulfilled.
I would be the high priestess of Chivia.

* * *

The commuter was dark. It was odd. I supposed it was night. But it couldn’t be! On Daelius right now, it would be morning. It was a strange feeling I had never felt. It made me feel how faraway I was from home. I didn’t even know what solar system I was in. I wondered what the Chivians called their star?
While I was thinking on the subject of stars and solar systems, I realized something I hadn’t before. The sunlight in Chivia’s solar system was white, maybe yellow! That was quite a new concept to me. Different colored starlight? What an oddity! While I was contemplating this, Dae-Yaelran summoned me.
“NemtÚ Adaria!” Called Captain Dae-Yaelran, summoning me loudly. I found it odd that he addressed me with the title of “most honorable”. I had only heard two people referred by that title by citizens on my home planet; Senator NemtÚ Jarinn, our pride-filled ruler of the planet, and Captain NemtÚ Dae-Yaelran himself. It was quite an honor, but was hard to accept such praise. I wonder how NemtÚ Jarinn took his praise? He took it modestly, no doubt. He was a kind man and filled his position with dignity. Now I outranked both of them, though it was difficult to admit that, even in my head. I felt rather uncomfortable and quite out of place.
I finally came to the cockpit of the commuter, where Dae-Yaelran sat. The view was beautiful! Millions of stars glazed black space, shining and sparkling. A small planet was stuck in the middle of all this beauty. Its waters, which were of a deep blue, offset the numerous small green islands. I turned to Dae-Yaelran, raising my eyebrows; asking a question with my eyes. Dae-Yaelran understood.
“That’s Chivia,” he remarked.
“Is this why you summoned me?” I questioned, struggling to keep good posture.
“No,” said Dae-Yaelran, “in fact, there is a small crisis.”
I slumped down, in panic. There is a small crisis? We do not have time for a crisis! Does the Empress not want me? After all this travel, she is going to send us back? I calmed myself, realizing I jumped to and fro conclusions like a small sandpiper hopping among the shore of a sandy beach. I straightened myself out, taking short, graceful breaths. I opened my mouth slowly to ask the dreaded question.
“What is the matter?” I questioned, my voice hinted with worry. Dae-Yaelran noticed my concern.
“Oh, ‘tis nothing really. ‘Tis just a small annoyance. There have been certain problems on Chivia concerning illegal immigration. They just sent a projection to us, stating that it is the duty of the space blockade to scan our ship and interrogate us. It will only take a little while.” I sighed, relieved.
“Thank you, Yaelran.. I am relieved the problem isn’t...” I stopped in mid-sentence. I covered my mouth with my hand. I had called him Yaelran! I had forgotten to slip in the formal title of “Dae” and called him simply Yaelran! I was thoroughly embarrassed. Only a female united partner of a man used his plain name.
Dae-Yaelran stared at me, obviously shocked and equally embarrassed. I made a curtsy, swallowing quietly, and saying in a meek voice,
“Thank, you sir, for informing me of the situation.” I bowed low to show my exceeding apology for such a terrible deed. Suddenly, something happened. It made me feel awkward inside. Dae-Yaelran smiled at me, and said, in his firm voice,
“Your mistake doesn’t matter, NemtÚ Adaria, for we aren’t on Daelius anymore.” It was odd for a man in a placement of such honor would simply brush off my terrible mistake that usually left dishonor. I had a strange feeling inside of me, but I couldn’t describe it. I turned around to retire to my room, so I could fall asleep and clear my brain of this odd feeling.

* * *

I was glad to get some rest before we reached the blockade. I was especially glad to take off my itchy, glittering robes of stature and change into a flowing silk sleeping dress. I had been wishing for a nap in my glass dome bed all day. I lifted the hinged domed glass top off the circular bed, and slipped my pale legs into the crimson satin sheets. Then I slipped in my whole body, curling myself into a warm ball. The crimson sheets were smooth and had been heating all day. Now the heat was transferred into my body, filling me with a warm feeling that reminded me of my cozy cottage on Daelius.
Automatically the bed sensed I had curled up, and the glass dome was lowered. I heard air shooting into the bed area from some mechanism at the top of the dome. It was lavender fragrance. Its scent tried to persuade me to fall asleep, but I was waiting for the comforting sound feature of the domed glass bed. Then, out of a quiet emptiness it came, the sound of rain pattering. I closed my eyes and listened, remembering the wet rainstorms of Daelius. I remembered when I was a child, and I heard rain outside, I would rush out and dance in the rain, looking up towards the heavens. They were beautiful to me, they were wide and inviting, even when a light gray. The drumming of raindrops were soon accompanied by a soft piano solo. It was a pity I never got to hear the whole of it.
Suddenly, after seemly only seconds of sleeping, I was awakened by a purely robotic voice, and turned to a thing that looked like a metal trash receptacle. I stifled a giggle.
“Did you enjoy your nap, NemtÚ? I excuse my interruption, NemtÚ. Let me explain, NemtÚ. I am Dae-Yaelran’s service robot. I was commanded to awaken you, NemtÚ. I was commanded to tell you to dress, NemtÚ. My commands were not explained, excuse me, please. We have reached the space blockade. Would you care for a refreshment, NemtÚ?” I yawned. It was quite a lot for a service robot to say. I decided if it was Dae-Yaelran’s service robot, though, that it was serious. I hopped out of the domed bed.
“A refreshment?” I contemplated out loud. “Yes... that would be nice.” I watched in amusement as the little service robot’s arm reached towards a silver-colored cylindrical case at his side. After he hand gripped it, his other arm, obviously magnetic, stuck to it. The magnet rotated, unscrewing the cap. The robot set the top of the bottle down on a small table next to the bed, upside down to use as a cup. His other hand, which gripped the other part of the bottle steadily, lowered, and a steaming red liquid was poured into the cup.
“Thank you for allowing me to serve you, NemtÚ. Dae-Yaelran expects your attendance is fifteen minutes,” the robot commented, wheeling towards the exit of the room. I quickly hurried to the wardrobe, opening the hinged silver doors and idly taking out a crimson dress with faux fur lining that I particularly liked. It would be easy to put on, and luckily not as itchy as my regal robes. Hurriedly, I disrobed from my sleeping dress and changed into the crimson one. It certainly had a different, more confined, feel to it.
Then, I took out the mahogany case that held the hair accessories. Without looking, I pulled out a large ebony comb embedded with mother-of-pearl and a thick golden circlet. I inserted the comb and placed the circlet on my head, then I braided my hair into several braids and let them fall by my shoulders. I didn’t bother with inserting the hundreds of gold and silver beads that would have been essential if I had been addressing an important speech. Quickly, I examined myself in the mirror, checking to see if I looked at least partly decent. Presentable enough, I told myself. I wondered if I was in the Chivian fashion; hopefully I was.
I still had a meager amount of time to drink up that liquid that the little service robot had given me. I lifted the silver cup to my lips, sipping it carefully, so as not to spill any on my dress. It was warm, and tasted of sweet red berries that we had back on Daelius, but it wasn’t at all like punch. It tasted as if it were a fruit flavored tea, actually. Suddenly, the delightful flavor shifted. It changed into a bitter, horrid taste. I swallowed it hastily, so I wasn’t compelled to spit it out. My mouth was left with the taste of the tonic water that my mother mixed with her cordial.
I set the cup down in disgust, shifting my facial features to a face signifying the bitterness that remained in my mouth. I looked in the mirror, trying to bite my lip to keep from laughing. It was such a funny face that it was unfortunate that no one was there to see it. I loved when people laughed at my antics, because it gave me a refreshing feel in my heart, the feel that I had given pleasure to someone. I looked around the barren room, inhaling the stuffy air that had become all too familiar and smelling tinges of the lavender fragrance, leftover from my domed bed, recreating the ambiance.
There was no one here to laugh at me, which was obvious. There would be no one on Chivia who would laugh at me either, for I held a title and position of high honor and they would consider it a disgrace to laugh at me. That is, if they’re as polite as I’ve heard them to be. No one would laugh at me on Daelius, but that was obvious, as I was informed long ago that I would never see my family, or a Daelius citizen for that matter, again. I was left with only one who laughed in my presence, Dae-Yaelran.
His laugh did not leave me with any pleasure, though, to be very honest. It was too strong of a laugh; its capacity of joy seemed very little, making it a noise of hollowness instead of a noise of cheerfulness, as all laughs should be. Dae-Yaelran’s laugh seemed mocking. Yes, it was a strong laugh, stronger than the rich coffee, dark as night, which my father used to drink. That Dae-Yaelran! Everything he did matched his disposition, which was quite depressing. He would make a terrible scholar of the arts. He was always thinking about duties, never loosening the vice on his head that controlled his thoughts to let some creative imagination seep in.
A clear and unwavering tone sounded, summoning me to the cockpit. I took one last, longing gaze out at the stars, reminding myself of everything I had left behind. Unlike those stars that I gazed at, though, the memories would never die. Or perhaps, I said to myself, the memories are already dead, leaving each their own special scar so I will constantly be reminded of their presence in my mind. That was a more realistic way to put it. We had reached the blockade, and so reached Chivia, where my life would be changed forever.

* * *

I strode gracefully off the ramp out of the commuter, pointing my toes, heeding Lyria’s advice that it would make me look stately. I looked around. I never realized the space blockade was just several space stations orbiting the planet. I had been notified we had docked our commuter at the space station D-15. It was a large, airy room with, gray and white seeming to be the color scheme. It seemed to be all made of metal, with an ugly concrete-like floor. It wasn’t lovely at all, at least, unlike the commuter. It was very noisy. I heard ships docking in, electric tools humming, and overall many unpleasant noises. People bustled about, some speaking languages I had not heard before, and some just looking different. The smell of fuel tinged the air harshly. I felt confined enough in the crimson dress, but to have Dae-Yaelran close to me on one side and a boy who looked just a bit older than on the other, I felt crowded.
I glanced at the man I did not know who was standing on the left. I had remembered him boarding the commuter with the other passengers, but had not remembered his purpose or name. He just barely caught my glance at him, brushing his head towards me. I looked away but concentrated on his face in my mind. His hair was blonde, not like most Daelians, but he had high cheekbones and pale skin, just like the Daelians. I was trying to remember his name, sorting all multitudes of names in my head.
He seemed to be glancing at me curiously. It was then that I noticed his flushed cheeks. He looked much like a traditional Daelian actor, with the traditional red pollen swiped on his cheeks. I needed to call him something in my brain, so I named him “Dae-Rudd-y’pollenface”. Then I giggled quietly. The name was ridiculous and much too long. I could imagine myself doing a low curtsy and saying gracefully, “I am honored to be in your presence, Sir Dae-Rudd-y’pollenface.”
I giggled quietly, but obviously Dae-Yaelran had heard me. He swiped his hand across his forehead, trying to arrange his coarse dark bangs casually, then nudged me. I straightened myself, walking slowly so my headdress wouldn’t topple to the floor. The circlet was much too heavy for its size; I felt as if I was balancing two elephants on my head.
I heard many footsteps behind me, and curiously turned my head to see at least five bodyguards, each holding a silver pistol by their armored chest. This made me feel uncomfortable. Why are bodyguards necessary? Does someone want to kill me? I felt another nudge from Dae-Yaelran. I would certainly hear it from him when we were in private circumstances. I swung my head back, focusing my eyes to the front. In the process, though, I knocked my headress into Dae-Rudd-y’pollenface. Accordingly, my heavy circlet fell off, landing on his toe. He clenched his teeth in pain. Dae-Yaelran held up his hand as a signal for the bodyguards to stop, and he turned to the victim of my murderous, naughty headress.
“Dae-Ghent!” He exclaimed. “Are you alright?”
I giggled a bit louder than I should have. The sight of “Dae-Ghent” hopping on one foot like a drunk ostrich was more than I could bear. Dae-Yaelran glared at me, and Dae-Ghent looked at me crossly, transferring a message to me that I should be silent. So, I was silent. Dae-Yaelran cleared his throat. This meant an apology was required. Dae-Ghent keep his concrete stare firm, and filled with that cross expression.
I made a deep curtsy, keeping my supporting leg strong and stable. I closed my eyes and looked down in shame.
“I am sorry to burden you, most honorable Dae-Ghent, for disgracing you and not maintaining my composure. I assure you that this will not happen again. I am sorry to laugh insincerely at the terrible pain that I inflicted on you,” I said, keeping my head low, choosing and speaking my words slowly, yet gracefully. I lifted my head up, sadly, and said in an unintentional dramatic voice, “I am also exceedingly sorry for the trouble that my headress caused, it is so bothersome, but it was not its fault, it was my entire fault…” Oh goodness! What had I said? My choice of words was ill, and now I was left thoroughly embarrassed. I smiled sheepishly, focusing on Dae-Ghent's phenomenal nose.
Dae-Ghent laughed wildly. I brightened up, smiling at him happily. I brightened up not just because he wasn’t mad anymore, but also because I had been wrong. No matter where I was, people would never stop laughing at my stupid mistakes and silly antics.

* * *

After what seemed like miles of walking down the spacious, metal-scented docking bay, we came to a large door that swished loudly and opened as soon as we approached it. We stepped in the room, which was generally a “waiting room” of sorts. It consisted of metal chairs with crimson cushions, facing towards a large picture window that viewed into space. The floor was not concrete in here. Instead, it displayed various tiled patterns. In the center of this room, there was a short, cylindrical pedestal. Then I noticed another door. Dae-Yaelran noticed, too.
Before we could proceed to the next room, a shaft of bluish light crept up from the pedestal on the floor. Instantly, a three dimensional figure appeared. I realized immediately the pedestal on the floor was a hologram projector. They can’t meet us in person? Why not? I promptly asked Dae-Yaelran in a quiet manner this question. He groaned, responding back to me in a muffled voice.
“This was to be expected. They really aren’t taking any chances, are they?” The hologram, which had stayed motionless, began to move. I wasn’t sure what type of creature was being projected, but his crossed arms meant business. His head was shaped like an egg, and was a light green color, darkening by the cheekbones. He had two long antennae, protruding from his head and curving regally. His eyes, nose and mouth covered all his “body”, not leaving room for a chest or waist. So I supposed all in all he looked like a green head with thin, long limbs... and antennae.
“Hanli-ko! Ter tem mikart’foa fae ki’ko cuun gua fair-yertrem, Adaria Tero.” His words seemed grim and faraway. When he spoke, a pleased smile, still slightly grim, appeared on his face.
Dae-Yaelran turned to Dae-Ghent, asking a question with his eyes as was his custom.
Dae-Ghent turned to us, spread his arms and addressed us.
“The senator says that he is honored that NemtÚ Adaria could be in his presence.” Dae-Ghent spoke with a wisdom beyond his years. That is, if he was as young as I thought. I found it odd that the creature had addressed me instead of Dae-Yaelran, but I was beginning to be accustomed to attention. Finally, one of the questions I was yearning to ask was answered. Dae-Ghent had come along with us as an interpreter.
“Ah, my deepest apologies, I wish you must accept,” The creature said. “I had quite forgetted that you had come from a distant planet from which you traveled far, quite. I have quite forgetted to spoke your language.”
I wanted to giggle at his funny placement of words, but I maintained my dignity, and realized if he would have heard my poor Chivian that he would have laughed, and how that would have made me feel. I looked at the creature gratefully, hoping that he would think I was pleased with his Daelius speech. He glanced at me and his expression softened like warm butter.
“Ah, Adaria Tero, I have forgetted you do not suppose who I is. I is T’yur-t’in-kyuur, I is the senator and is the personality assistant of Empress Maliki, conjurer of the heavens, and ruler of the re-knowned territories of Chivia.” I decided to please him by using his native tongue. I smiled curtly and made a deep curtsy, using the words that he had welcomed me with.
“Hanli-ko! Ter tem mikkiturt’foa fae ki’ko coan gua fair-yertlish, T’yur-t’in-kyuur Tero.”
He burst into laughter. I’ll have to do something about my stupid mistakes. Later, Dae-Ghent informed me that I had said to T’yur, “Greetings! I am disgusted to be flattening your cake, honorable
T’yur-t’in-kyuur.”

* * *

After a bit of explaining, and a rather annoying scan of our ship, possessions, and bodies, we were led to several lovely apartments where we were to stay for the night. Everything went smoothly, especially when we got to our apartments.
When I entered the apartment, the attendants took me to another room adjoining it. It contained a large bathtub, probably made of marble. A detailed statue of a fish was mounted on a pillar near the head of the bath. The attendant silently turned a marble knob near the fish statue. It turned, but not without a loud creak.
I marveled, clasping my hands as steaming water splashed out quickly from the fish’s mouth and into the bathtub, gurgling cheerfully. Taking a flask from a nearby mahogany table, she removed the cork and poured some pink liquid into the bath. I inhaled through my nostrils, taking the scent in. It flowed through my body like a delicate piece of music, its manner soft and mellow. I recognized the smell. It was that of a T’ier-Adaria blossom for which I was named! I thought T’ier-Adaria trees only grew on Daelius!
I looked at the attendant and smiled. I wondered if they called them the same thing on Chivia.
“T’ier-Adaria?” I questioned curiously, using the tone of voice I would use for someone much younger than I. The attendant brightened up and her cheeks became as red as that dreaded fruit tea that Dae-Yaelran’s service robot had given me. She smiled happily and nodded.
“Tee-aire Adaa-rae’a!”
I smiled back at her, trying to be friendly. She looked nice. She had light dark hair, beige skin, and eyes that shone like stars. I wanted to find out her name. I wondered if she understood any of the Daelian language. I motioned to myself slowly, pronouncing each syllable clearly.
“My name is Adaria,” I said, “what is your name?” I queried this while pointing to her.
“Tee-aire Adaa-rae’a!” She repeated cheerfully, a confused look sweeping across her face like wind sweeping across a plain. I pointed to myself again and repeated my name.
“Adaria,” I pronounced.
“Adaa-rae’a?” She questioned, pointing to me as if she needed verification. I nodded slowly.
Before I could speak to her more, a high tone chimed from a contraption on the wall that looked like a public announcement system. Quickly, the girl made a low curtsy, her knees pulsing as if she was about to topple over. She made one last of her brilliant smiles, displaying her ivory-colored teeth. She gathered up a silver tray on the mahogany bath table, and trotted off it a dignified way.
I looked at the luxurious bathtub, touching its smooth surface. Was it marble? I had much to learn if I was to stay on Chivia. Of course, I wouldn’t think about those things now, for a steaming perfumed bath was waiting for me.

* * *

I gazed at the white ceiling of my room in the space blockade ship. I yawned, and wiped the hair from my forehead. My hand swept across my face, which had been left smooth from the bath. I wondered when I would get supper. Chivians must eat rather late. I had slipped on a plain, short-sleeved white frock after my bath, but needed a better dress before I could be served my supper. That is, if they were going to give me any supper.
I scurried to my wardrobe chests that had been carried on by attendants. I sorted through the small compartments, taking out a golden circlet embedded with bits of turquoise. It seemed pleasing to me, as it looked neither bothersome nor informal. I then sorted through my dress selection. It was very limited selection, because not all of my wardrobe chests had been carried on. I chose a turquoise dress that matched the turquoise in the circlet. It was embroidered with lilies made from golden floss. Folded in with it were elastic armbands with golden flags attached so they trailed along and enhanced arm movements.
I slipped the dress over my head, and then put on the armbands and placed the circlet on my head.
Spinning in front of the grand mirror that spanned the wall of the private blockade chamber, I admired the sheer beauty of the dress. I heard a knock at the door, and quickly stopped spinning. My chin immediately arranged itself high in the air, the former teachings of grace and beauty making this regal position commonplace.
A male attendant entered, and fell to his knees, his tunic wrinkling with the movement.
“Madam,” He said, in broken Daelian, “Honorable T’yur-t’in-kyuur requests cordially your attendance for supper.”
And so started my first traditional Chivian dinner.

* * *

At dinner, I found myself sitting next to Dae-Yaelran, but I felt as if I was sitting next to confusion. I was left befuddled with the odd eating utensil, which was similar to a pair of tongs, except made of wood and lacquered to a black color. An embossed lily adorned the top of the tongs, where the tines met together and became thick and fanned out.
I was accustomed to a fork and spoon, so I struggled with this awkward instrument. I wiggled my hand and made pensive face expressions as I tried to bring some type of steamed grain beads to my mouth.
Dae-Yaelran watched my struggle with an amused expression. He was the only one who noticed. Why did he have to notice everything? I suppose his vigilance made up for his lack of creativity. The others,
Dae-Ghent, and T’yur, seemed to be concentrated on the steaming dish of victuals.
“Here,” Dae-Yaelran offered, taking my hand which held the eating utensil, “You seem to be having some difficulty. Let me show you how to use these tongs.” Dae-Yaelran looked into my eyes, his gaze sparkling. His hand, which touched mine, spread a familiar feeling throughout my body. It was similar to the feeling I had had when I had addressed Dae-Yaelran informally, and he had taken it lightly. Dae-Yaelran proceeded to show me the correct usage of the tongs.
Finally, after many fascinated glances from Dae-Ghent and T’yur, I finally managed to produce a beautiful and skillful tong hand. I thought about Dae-Yaelran’s touch that had spread that feeling throughout me. Somehow, the feeling was different. I didn’t want to be cleared of it; it seemed comfortable.
I glanced at Dae-Yaelran, who seemed to now be occupied with his meal. I remembered his gaze, and then shook my head in disbelief. He was just trying to help me in a respectful manner... or was it...?

* * *

The shadows of nightfall were evident in the small, warm room adjoining the massive dining hall. A glistening holographic fire was burning in a faux fireplace, yet it seemed real because of the heat that was being produced from heating vents in the floor.
T’yur was seated in a chair obviously made specialized for his type of species, with the antennae, short limbs, and egg-shaped head. I was noticing that much of the crew on the space blockade was of his species.
Dae-Yaelran sat next to T’yur, holding a large goblet of what smelled similar to that dreaded fruit tea that had scarred my taste buds. He retained a relaxed expression, and was speaking quietly with T’yur. I was sitting on the divan couch with large velvet pillows, next to Dae-Ghent. His dark red cheeks matched the dying holographic embers of the fire.
He shook his head, his pointy flaxen bangs bouncing casually. His brown eyes focusing on mine as he turned to me. Is it custom nowadays for people to focus intensely on other’s eyes? I wondered, looking away bluntly.
Dae-Ghent finally stuttered out some words.
“Your dress is very pretty, especially the embroidery. Was it made especially for you?” He queried with interest. I shook my head.
“No, it was made for my older sister, but it became too small. I miss her…” I explained, my eyes trailing to the wall in sadness.
“I know how you feel,” said Dae-Ghent with a sigh. “I have been away from my parents for a terribly long period. My mother is Daelian, but my father is from Earth, which is the prime planet of the Orion arm of our galaxy. Daelius is claimed by Earth, but is still individually ruled, rather like a protectorate, you might say.”
“Oh?” I asked, looking at Dae-Ghent.
“Yes,” he said, “I was recently staying with my grandparents on Daelius, because of lack of funds on my home planet Chivia. Now that I am here, I shall stay with my parents. I have been parted with them long enough.” His voice was laced with a familiar sadness. It was distinct and very easy to recognize, especially because I knew the feeling. My family was no longer with me. But Dae-Ghent would see his family soon, and I knew I would never see my family again.
Dae-Ghent gaze was drawn away from the floor and for a brief moment, his amber eyes met mine for the second time that night. His lips curled into a handsome smile.
“By the way, you need not address me by my traditional name. Call me Ghent; just Ghent.”
Why was my heart racing so?

* * *

Night was falling, and the Chivian moon had become evident as it shone its crisp, milky-white rays on my pale face. The rays were quite delicate, and yet you could not break them, however hard you tried. They remained the same, crisp shafts of moonlight. I thought of my mother, with her powdered face, and long plaited ebony hair, just like mine. She would have wanted me to be like that moonlight, delicate and beautiful, yet unbreakable. I feared that trait was not evident in myself any longer. I feared I was not “unbreakable”. I feared these two things because I though my heart was breaking. I had never felt that way before, so knew not what to think.
The cause of this supposed broken heart was because of the two faces that looked upon me with kindness and understanding. A pair of faces that were filled with sympathy and shared feelings. I had realized their interest during the very first forms of it, and yet refused to believe. I didn’t need any handsome admirers to charm me. I needed my family. My wise father, my beautiful mother, and my sweet sister. I needed their comfort, but knew however far I reached for it, I would never be able to grasp it and clutch safely.
A tear ran down my cheek, and then more and more. As these drops of crystal ran down my cheek, I collapsed onto the bed, sobbing. Tomorrow I would go to Chivia. I would make myself hate it. I would scream until they let me have my family. I hated Ghent, and I hated Yaelran. No, I wouldn’t use those informal titles to show a hint of similar feelings that weren’t there. Forever in my heart, I would hate Dae-Ghent and Dae-Yaelran.
I couldn’t convince myself they were my enemies; I realized it was very obvious I was hopelessly in love with them both. I couldn’t stand any of my painful, out-bursting feelings. I did the only thing I could do. I kept crying. Many more tears would be shed that night before we would head to the surface of Chivia the next morning.

* * *

My gold leaf covered slippers felt heavy, as if they were made of lead. My arms were drooped by my side, not swaying in their usual contentment. My vision was blurred, and my breaths were short and slowed. I tried to stay awake, but I feared it would be difficult because of my lack of sleep. I began to slump, tiredly.
“Do hold still,”
“NemtÚ, oh NemtÚ, do not droop like a wilting flower,”
“Lift your arms, honored one,”
“Hold still, please, my dear! Don’t lift your arms!”
“Do not look down, keep your chin up,”
“Hold out your hand, dear,”
“NemtÚ Adaria, don’t move!”
“Chin up!”
“Your hand, please,”
“Do stop drooping!” Seemingly thousands of attendants were swarming about me like hornets, each spewing out commands left and right, some contradicting. I couldn’t think, and the sounds became muffled. My senses became muted, as I had not slept a wink. I could only feel my eyelids slipping over my eyes, and attendants clothing me and fiddling with my previously disheveled hair.
I wore silk stockings that were tied with golden garters above my knee, with a large red dress, then a very thick and hot robe, glittering with gems. I felt as though I were about to topple over, not just from my sleepiness, but also from the excessive attentions being ministered to me. I nodded, bobbing my head about wearily and widening my sleep-lacking eyes, idylls flashing in my memory. I let out a sigh and reminded myself we had landed on Chivia. Dae-Ghent and Dae-Yaelran would soon leave my side.
Soon, the worker ants around me began to subside, and I was left alone in my chamber. Relief struck me, as the loud commands had withered away like a tepid leaf, carelessly plucked from a elegant bough of a tree. I wobbled slowly and unsteadily towards the mirror, and gasped at the strange person staring back at me.
She was unfamiliar. Her hair was plaited and set into buns intricately, and a towering monstrosity was perched on her head. The monstrosity had three crests, adorned with gems and feathers, and was pinned on with literally hundreds of jeweled hairpins. Her face, as if not pale enough, was covered with white face makeup, seemingly applied with a large coal shovel.
As the looming, early morning shadows laughed at the peculiar sight before them, I realized the girl in the mirror was I. It was a strange, terrible representation of me. I glared at it in disgust, wrinkling my nose until it was as shriveled as a dried apricot. A snowstorm of white powder drifted from my nose, the wrinkles upsetting the carefully applied work of art.
The work of art-The thought suddenly came to my mind. The gaggle of handmaidens had never cared about how I felt, or if I were comfortable, or even if I was having a good day. All they fussed about was my appearance. Could it be that I was meant to be a work of art, and not meant to be who I really was? As I contemplated this I wanted to rip the headpiece from my hair, dishevel my hair defiantly, and shout robustly, “I’m a person, not something you can just change to suit your standards!”
But I didn’t. Great dishonor would befall me if I did. Then, I did something I hadn't done in days. I stared at my scar. It was three parallel scrapes, which were a crimson red. I didn't understand how those scrapes could so easily change my life.

To be Continued...

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Aron (Incomplete)
A Work of Fantasy
It was just a long, slender tube of plain wood. Faded, rumpled tassels didn’t make Aron’s seemingly ancient gift any better. His parents were foolish to have tucked it in with him when he was a child. He would suck on the tassels, and chew the beautiful mouthpiece. Now those years had toiled to the instrument, causing it to be in its current unsightly state. The flute’s end had tooth marks, and the mouthpiece was worn down to plain, undecorated wood. Supposedly it had magical power. The handmaiden of Korinia, great Oracle of Dinamya had deemed the birth-gift the most powerful of any she had ever seen. Aron didn’t think it contained any special powers. The song that it played probably wouldn’t be beautiful from a flute of such poor quality, and lessons from the Luestriedan court composer would be tedious and no fun at all.
As morning shadows began to creep along the sheets of his divan, trying to run away from the sun, Aron sighed, and threw the already battered flute to the ground. He had more important things to worry about than his dumb birth-gift. Dust motes scattered like birds from a field of an angry farmer as he tossed away the ivory-colored sheets. In an unneeded hurry, he disrobed; throwing his nightshirt on the chair that matched his writing desk. The nightshirt was still tired, and hung its limbs lazily from the seat of the chair, hiding behind a streak of shadow. Aron sorted through his clothes chest, finding a pair of serviceable leggings, and an undershirt. Then he chose his usual sky-blue tunic to wear. The tunic went down to just above his ankles, a length representing status. To hide the feet would be dishonor- for feet symbolized constancy. Tying a sash at his waist, he reached for the long ivory ribbon to tie at his forehead. Finally slumped to the ground, carefully tying his leather sandals.
“Aronis!” a small voice trilled from the hall. “You’re a sleepyhead! Wake up you dumb son of a walnut! Are you even awake?” the voice’s body pounded at the thick door.
“Quite making a racket,” he groaned. “You sound like a heard of wild horses banging on the door like that! And calling father a walnut! My, my! He’s the king of Luestrieda for the goddess’s sakes!”
“Well, let me in!” Insisted the voice.
“Just a minute,” Aron said, preparing himself in the mirror, then sauntering to the door, and opening it slowly. His sister, Arielle leapt in, pouncing on him with great force and throwing him to the ground. Her locks of brown hair bobbed happily as she sat up. Aron rubbed his back and glared.
“Arielle! Why’d you do that?” he queried, his voice as sharp as the sting of an adder.
“Well,” started Arielle, her eyes still closed in merriment, “I figured you needed to be awakened!”
“I have to say I am not terribly amused,” Aron replied dryly, wiping dust from his flowing sleeves.
“Shall we go to the fields to gather wildflowers?” Asked young Arielle, tugging on Aron’s sleeve.
“Well, I have tutoring today,” said Aron dejectedly.
“Hmm. This is misfortunate,” Arielle stated, placing her hand on her chin in contemplation.
“Don’t start brewing one of those foolhardy ideas of yours, Arielle,” suggested Aron, slowly pushing himself off the ground.
“I won’t,” promised Arielle, as Aron left the room. He didn’t see the impish grin that formed like a crescent moon on Arielle’s face, as she pulled a small polished stone from her pocket.

* * *

It was midday, and the sun hung high in the sky, like a large ball of glowing iron on a blacksmith’s anvil. Aron rushed through the palace courtyard to the royal library, panting heavily like a hunting dog tracking a fox. He opened the carved mahogany doors, and as he stepped in his footsteps echoed across the huge walls of books. His garments became multicolored as he sat at his writing desk under the monumental stained glass window. He looked around apprehensively.
“Pedagogue? Pedagogue Abendroth?” Aron called, only hearing his own echo. It was after a while he decided to begin his lesson without his tutor. Slowly, he dipped his chocolate-brown quill pen into the small vial of black ink, and neatly printed sentences in his copybook. Over and over he scratched, his script becoming more and more messy as worry built up. Where could Abendroth be? Finally, he set the pen down agitatedly, sending a short spray of ink dots across the yellowed pages of his copybook.
“Drat,” he commented. Not feeling like working, he turned back to the first page of his copybook. He couldn’t believe the messy scrawl was his name. It had been four years since he had written on that page. He thoughtfully gazed at it with apparent nostalgia, then remembered his pedagogue was absent. The huge library seemed eerie and abandoned without Abendroth’s warm voice, and soft footsteps. Aron placed his hands on his hips, and grew silent. He heard a crowd outside in the courtyard. Slowly, he darted through the library doorway to see what was happening.

To be Continued...

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Activities That I Am/Was Involved With



Played Edmund in the play "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe" Please do take a look at the Chelsea High School Theatre Guild Webpage
Quiz Bowl- Winning 8th Grade Team
WISD Writing Conferences, Seminar
Piano Lessons
Youth Dance Theatre's "The Nutcracker"
Talent Search's Early ACT Testing

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Books I've Savored This Year
Try Them Out!

Starred Titles are Personal Favorites


Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone*
Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban*
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire*
Ella Enchanted*
Ender's Game*
Marlfox
Stop Pretending
Flowers for Algernon*
Belgarath the Sorceror
Anne of Green Gables
Frenchtown Summer
Out of the Dust
The Fighting Ground
Falling Leaves*
Lord Brocktree
An Unfortunate Series of Events
Watership Down*
Diary of Anne Frank*
Speak*
No Man's Land
Playwrights at Work
Skellig
Go Ask Alice*
It Happened to Nancy*
Zebra & Other Stories
C.S. Lewis- A Biography
The Horse and His Boy*
Child Star- Shirley Temple's Autobiography
The Golden Compass*
Prince Caspian
The Book of Three
The Secret Garden*

And the Winner is...

Watership Down by Richard Adams

Trouble in the warren, mutiny, a long journey, the
new found home, fighting to set the imprisoned free,
and finally fighting to protect yourself and your new
home. Sound interesting? Would you believe it's about a mismatched group of rabbits? Well, it is. In this particular warren, there is a young rabbit, Fiver, who can sense things that are going to happen in the future. And for his warren, he senses trouble, big trouble. He goes to the chief rabbit to warn him. But no one believes him at first, except his older brother, Hazel. The story turns to mutiny. The rebel rabbits who were not caught by the Owsla (the rabbit form of police) embark on a long journey to find Fiver's vision of a safe home. Once they find this place, they are happy until they realize that there is not a single doe (female rabbit) among them. Then they hear about a
warren whose chief rabbit is harsh and cruel, so they plan a way to help the imprisoned rabbits escape. Will they succeed? Read Watership Down and find out.

Review from http://teenink.com/Past/1992/2790.html

Check out these Watership Down Links!
The Real Watership Down Page
A Great Watership Down Page

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My "Trip" This Year
When I Broke my Leg in Maine

There I was, atop a ski slope with one of my best friends contemplating the party we would hold that night in honor of my birthday. I gazed down the slope, glistening with a thin sheet of ice. My friend began the descent and I soon followed, weaving around the dangerous ice patches. In just a few seconds the day became a nightmare. I hit some ice that was covered by fresh powder snow and lost control. I kept going faster and faster and couldn't stop myself on all the ice. To my horror, my leg slammed right into a tree with a "whump", and my skis broke. So did my leg. I heard and felt a crack. A merciless burning pain twisted and stung my leg. I started screaming and screaming. I thought I was dying. Luckily, a member of ski patrol had been right at the scene and contacted some other members. My leg was on fire and I was shrieking with pain as they tried to calm me. They lifted me up into a sled attached to someone's waist. The sheer pain surged. He skied, speeding down the hill. It was like a plunge into the underworld the whole ride. They took me to the ski patrol place and cut off my jeans and snowpants. I begged them to take off my ski boot, because my leg was ebbing with pain. They took it off and gasped. A shard of bone was sticking out of the back of my leg, and blood was spurting out quickly. They hurriedly called an ambulance, and when it came they loaded me in. They stuck an IV in my arm and gave me some medicine. At this time, the pain was so great I couldn't feel it anymore. They rushed me to a hospital where they did a bunch of tests and examined me. Then a doctor informed me they didn't have the equipment to help me. So they loaded me up into a helicopter, and drugged me heavily. I couldn't feel my body, and I was crying and whimpering. Finally, we arrived at another hospital where they immediatly took me to surgery. They cut veins from my right leg and performed a vein transplant, and placed my bone together. They realized that too much blood had flowed into my muscle and pressure was building up that might make my leg burst so I would have to get it amputated. Quickly, they sliced huge slices down my left leg to release the pressure. Then, they inserted metal pins into my bone and flesh which connected to metal bars that held my leg together. Throughout my stay at this hospital, there were many complications. The place where they had cut out vein and then sealed got infected, so they had to reopen it and sterilize it. Also, a hematoma (a swelling blood bump) was cut out of the same place. They also discovered a hemotoma on my left leg which they evacuated. I wasn't getting enough protein, so they had to feed me protein drink via a tube in my nose. Being in the hospital was torture. I had to have blood draws two or three times a day and my arms got so bruised and tender that they installed a line that went through my veins to a vein in my neck where they could automatically draw blood. After this, I had to have two shots a day so my blood was anticoaglated. I also had awful dressing changes where they packed bloody gaping wounds with gauze and medicine while I was under sedation. These changes lasted hours. Soon, after many weeks in the hospital, they decided to skin graft my wounds. They shaved skin from my upper leg and grafted it to all my open wounds. I had spent next to three long months in the hospital, and finally got to fly home. My first couple weeks home were pretty hard, but eventually I got better. I learned to use crutches, and had the metal bars and pins removed. After a while I returned to school and was able to bend my leg and bear some weight on it.

The day when I hit the tree was probably the worst birthday "present" of my life. But it has made me stronger and a better person. Deep down inside I'm actually glad it happened. It taught me a lot. But for now I'll have to work hard and restore my leg back to its former function level.

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Check Out These Cool Links!
My Sites

My Incomplete Personal Site
My Incomplete Fantasy Site

Other Sites

My Computer Instructor's Page
Daily Japanese Smile Proverbs
Nine Planets-A Tour of The Solar System
Boogie Jack's Free Graphics

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