|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.|
|Activities this Year||My Favorite Samples of Writing|
|My Favorite Books List||Mitochondria (Incomplete)|
|About my Broken Leg||High Priestess (Incomplete)|
|My Favorite Links||Aron (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.”
* * *
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.
* * *
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
* * *
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.
To be Continued...
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?
* * *
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.
* * *
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.
* * *
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,
* * *
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.
* * *
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.
* * *
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.
* * *
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.
* * *
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.
* * *
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.
To be Continued...
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.
To be Continued...
Activities That I Am/Was Involved With
Quiz Bowl- Winning 8th Grade Team
WISD Writing Conferences, Seminar
Youth Dance Theatre's "The Nutcracker"
Talent Search's Early ACT Testing
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I've Savored This Year
Try Them Out!
Starred Titles are Personal Favorites
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*
Flowers for Algernon*
Belgarath the Sorceror
Anne of Green Gables
Out of the Dust
The Fighting Ground
An Unfortunate Series of Events
Diary of Anne Frank*
No Man's Land
Playwrights at Work
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*
The Book of Three
The Secret Garden*
And the Winner is...
Watership Down by Richard Adams
in the warren, mutiny, a long journey, the
Review from http://teenink.com/Past/1992/2790.html
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"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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