Although this is not everything I have been working on, this is the portion I read in class. I am sorry for the difficulties with my blog. I think I have them worked out, just a little late possibly, but better late than never.
My One and Only True Love,
Being taken from the two of you like this is the
hardest thing I could ever imagine. I swear to you as I have before, I am
innocent, I will do anything and everything to prove my innocence and come home
to the two of you; to see our boy grow into a man will keep me strong. I will
persevere through this difficult time, I will come home.
When they took me from you, when they tightened the
handcuffs and dragged me from the courtroom into the prison van, something
inside of me died. It was the darkest moment in my life, the sun beating down
on me through the window, blocked by the dark cloud of emotions all around me.
I do not know if this is the last window to the outside world I will ever look
through, or if it the first look towards the truth within lies. I believe it was the truth calling, reviving
what had died inside of me, preparing me for the difficult road ahead.
Reaching the gates of Attica was daunting; the
structure was cold and lifeless, except for the armed guards who opened the
gates. They were everywhere, looking, watching, waiting for something, anything
to happen where they could exert their power over someone, anyone. That is what
I have learned after a few short days anyway. They took me inside and prepared
me for my new life. I was stripped and searched. They left not an inch of my
body as it arrived; they tried raping me of my dignity and my sanity. But I am
strong, I will not let them beat me into submission.
When they were finished they dressed me, they gave
me a number, 970219, they gave me sheets, and a blanket; they gave me my only
possessions I am allowed to have and took me to my cell. The walk was one of
the longest of my life, inmates chanting, their eyes beating down on me,
judging me. The concrete walls were cold and lifeless, yet filled with tortured
lives waiting to die. The sound of the creaking iron bars as they opened the
gate to my cell sent chills down my spine. It wasn’t until they closed the cell
door behind me that I realized this is my new home. The beginning of my quest
to prove my innocence starts now.
I met my cell mate, Ryan, that first night, and to
my surprise, he seems to be someone I will get along with. He told me about the
structure within the prison walls. There are four groups who seem to run the
ins and outs of prison life. Each culture sticks together: the African
Americans, the Latinos, the Arian Brotherhood, and the other. The other is
where both Ryan and I have chosen to offer our loyalties. We are by far the
weakest of the four, but that will soon change. I vow to help this group of
outcasts while I search for truth and justice. I do not know why I was framed
for murder, yet. I will find the answers my lawyer was unable uncover. I will
come back to you, or die in the process.
I will write the two of you as often as possible.
You are in my heart, my mind and my soul.
Your True Love,
O.
Once upon a time…
A boy awoke to find he no longer slept in the
comfort of his own bed. His Superman sheets which shielded the evil spirits in
his dreams, no longer covered him. But he was strong. Using both hands, he
rubbed the eye-boogers from the corners of his beautiful blue eyes. Taking one
hand from his eyes at a time, the boy squinted, making the most peculiar
face—not quite a smile, yet not really a frown. It was as if he were a ninety
year old man eating a lemon, more wrinkles than face—the boy squinted through
his one open eye in an attempt to capture the essence of his surroundings. He
thought he smelled it, but it couldn’t be, there was no possible way. Removing
his other hand, he opened both eyes, took a deep breath through his nostrils
and knew it must be so. Even though he had never seen it or heard of it before,
he found himself in a mystical forest of garbage. He was surrounded by the
items no one else wanted.
The boy was alone, and although he wasn’t scared, he
wanted more than anything in the world to be home. It was right then and there,
the boy made an oath to return home. “I...I…I” but for some strange reason, the
boy could not remember his name. He sat on a pile of old toasters, silver, red,
black, every color imaginable seemed to be there. Each toaster had snakelike cords
slithering closer and closer to his feet as he sat, trying to remember his name.
He scratched his head once, made the same old man face as before, and somehow
he remembered.
“My name is
Yungman!” he shouted at the top of his lungs as he jumped from the pile of
toasters just before the cords could slither around his ankles. The boy closed
his eyes—once again making the same lemony old man face as before—keeping his
eyes closed he could see his mother saying his name.
“Young man, clean your room. There is not an inch of
carpet to be found. When you are done, come downstairs and you can have a fresh
baked cookie.”
“Yungman, yupp, that’s it!” He said to himself.
The forest of garbage seemed never-ending to
Yungman, for he could not see but trash in every direction. On his initial look
around, he chose to begin his adventure by hiking to the highest point of
garbage he could find. While he walked, his head rapidly swiveled back and
forth, seeking treasures found in the trash of others.
“Eureka, look at this,” he said ecstatically to
himself as if he were not alone. “This must be a warrior’s sward, and this,
this is a warrior’s shield.”
What Yungman actually found was a broken guitar, the
neck and body broken in such a way he was able to brandish them as his weapon
and his protection. But the power of his imagination combined with the magical
essence within the forest of garbage, transformed these tattered items into the
very warrior sword and shield he envisioned.
“Heelllooo,” a voice meekly stated in such a way it
was not quite a greeting, yet not really a question.
“WHO GOES THERE?” Yungman demanded.
A scrawny boy with broken glasses emerged from a
pile of old wrapping paper. The boy was draped in ribbons and bows while the
clothes he wore were tattered and torn.
“I’mmm Ryyyaaaan,” he stated hesitantly.
“Hi Ryan, I’m Yungman. Wooow, that’s a cool uniform
you are wearing Ryan.”
The ribbons and bows no longer made up his outfit.
Ryan’s uniform was that of a general in the military. The bows changed to
medals the ribbons formed the stripes on his sleeves and pant legs. Both boys
looked at each other, eying up and down from head to toe and back again while
they circled around each other, waiting, waiting possibly for answers, possibly
for something else to transform. But they kept circling each other until
Yungman broke the silence.
“Where are we?”
“We are in the forgotten land of the past,” Ryan
said with a new found confidence. A uniform has an uncanny way of turning a boy
into a man.
“The forgotten land of the past?” Yungman asked.
“Yes, everything here has been forgotten by someone.”
“What else do you know about this place?” Yungman
asked.
“There are four castles at each corner of the forest
of garbage in the forgotten land of the past. Each castle detests the other.
From what I have heard something big is about to happen. A battle maybe, I
don’t know for sure though.”
“What kind of castles?”
“The castle I live in is just around that mound of
tossed out wheelchairs,” Ryan stated as he pointed at the pile of over two
thousand beat up old wheelchairs. “It’s the bubble gum castle. By far the best
one if I do say so myself.”
“Woooow, a bubblegum castle?” Yungman asked as he
couldn’t help but start chewing an imaginary piece of watermelon Bubbleyum, his
favorite. “What are the other castles made of?”
“Well, there is a pizza box castle. There is a phone
book castle.” The phone book castle was made strictly from Washington state phone books, due to the scratch and sniff apples within the front cover. The
castle was only one scratch away from smelling fresh. “And the last is the
tower of tin cans.”
“Cooool, but nothing beats a bubblegum castle.”
“What are you doing here in the forgotten land of
the past Yungman?”
“I don’t know, I have not been forgotten I know that
much. Actually I am on my way home. I just have to figure out how to get back.”
“Yea, I, I know, I wasn’t forgotten either. Anyway,
we better get to the castle, it will be getting dark soon and you don’t want to
be out here in the dark.”
The two boys ventured around the mound of
wheelchairs as the sun set. Yungman had an eerie feeling he was being watched,
every hair on his little body stood at attention as they made their way to the
gates of the castle.
“Thanks for letting
me stay here Ryan. But tomorrow, tomorrow I will find my way home."
