Train ride home

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The college student tapped their foot against the cold concrete. It has been a long day and now they had to take a long train ride back home. It was nearing the end of semester 1 and they had a lot of work to do. It was flurrying out and the white snow flakes began to collect on their head. There was a loud screech coming from the tunnel, the train was coming. They pulled their laptop case closer to their body and waited for the train to halt. They felt the odd sensation of falling when the train stopped in front of them but they ignored it and boarded the train.

The ride to their parents house wasn’t that long, 20 maybe 30 minutes. But it was enough time for them to work on a paper that is due on Tuesday. They sat on one seats by the window, and an old lady sat down next to them. She smiled at them and looked away, realizing they did not want to converse. They pulled their laptop out of the case and began to type away about  Mayan medicine. The college student was really interested in the Mayan history, they were so violent but yet so ahead for their time. Not a lot of people took the college course on Mayan history making the class a little bit more intimate, which is always better for the student. They would look up every so often to look out the window, most of the time they would see their reflection because the train was under ground. Their glasses rested on the bridge of their nose, they would push it up and go back to work.

The voice over the intercom would go off every 5 minutes, stopping at each stop. People would get off but no one would ever get on. The numbers of the train dwindled till it was just the college student and a man in his late 30s. The train came to a screeching halt as it came to the college student’s stop. They put their computer back into the case and stood up holding onto the bar for support so they wouldn’t go flying when the train pulled up. The doors swung open and the two people walked out of the train. But no one boarded, which puzzled the college student but they brushed it off and walked out of the train station.

The snow was picking up and the breeze bite at their nose as they walked to their parents house. They had to live with their parents because at the moment they couldn’t afford an apartment. The snow had piled up on the sides of the street and spilled onto the poorly shoveled side walk. Their house wasn’t that far from the train station. They remember when they were kids them and their friends would say they were hanging in town but sneak onto the train and spend the day in the city. Their parents found out a couple times, they were always furious.

They reached their street and noticed a police car parked in their drive way. Naturally they were worried and curious so they began to jog to get to their house. The door was open so they walked in.

“Mom?” they called into the hallways. “Dad?”

Nothing. They walked into the kitchen and saw their parents sitting at the table with a police man. Their father had his arm around their mothers shoulders and she was crying into his chest. His father had a solemn look on his face. They had never seen his father look like that before. The police man was talking softly to the college students parents. His mother gave a deep sob and began to wail.

“Mom…” the college student said, placing their hand on her shoulder.

“He can’t be dead!” she wailed.

“Ma’am I’m sorry to say your son was in the train station when the train lost control before stopping. I am so sorry for your loss.”

“He can’t be dead, he’s just a baby, he just graduated high school,” she wailed again.

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I want to write freely
It gives me the option to be beautiful for once
I can create a world where everyone is happy, the perfect place
I write to make people feel something
Because god knows people need to feel things once and a while

I haven’t written in a week
My hands shake
My minds hurls itself at me, screaming at me to
create
But they won’t budge

The river of words does not flow out of my fingers
So I type nonsense trying to shake this feeling
In hope that my mind can
create
and make me feel whole

Without words and sentences
I am nothing
I am a girl who has hands that float around suspended in boredom
Without words and sentences I cannot produce who I am trying to be
Words and sentences, writing and poetry is how I connect

By the lake

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My family and another family rented a house right on the lake. I left my computer at home and only brought my notebook and four books. One notebook was for my novel that I am attempting to write, and my other notebook was for little things that popped into my head. I am sharing with you the notebook that was for the little things that popped into my head.

June 23, 2013

I tell him of her lost life story, he replies with the statement “Well she will just have to live it again,” as if living life twice is a simple thing to do.

June 23, 2013

In the beginning of summer I fell in love with how the moon enveloped the lake.
How the lake and the forest      melt together to create an
amorphous blob
How the moon drips down into the lake
and how the light from the houses bled into the lake
filing      the       water        to be golden
I fell in love with nature and out of love with you

June 24, 2013

The dock is quiet, except for the waves that come once and a while and crash against the rocks. And for the chatter from the house that reverberates off the dull shimmering lake. The dock is the opposite of quiet actually, it is full of sound. The cicadas whistle, the water laps at the rocks as if it was a dog, the kids screech in the distance as they get thrown into the water by a sibling or a parent. Once and a while the loon will make a noise and it will echo for a few minutes prolonging the eeriness of its call. The humidity press down unto me, making me want for the cool waters to surround me. But I fight the urge and let the lake side breeze cool me. Noura comes down, her flip flops making a noise as she rushes down to sit at the dock on the white chair. My thoughts are disturbed and my words float away as if they were on a boat.

June 25, 2013

The world seems more alive in the morning. When we are sleeping the bugs and birds come out, they whisper and giggle to one another. Telling stories of their nightly triumph. I want to preserve this moment, this moment at 4:24 on a Tuesday morning, in a time capsule. Save it for my children so they can know that when the earth is death from war, the earth was once alive. It thrived like I did once. I much like the earth is most beautiful when no one is watching. When the morning sun sneaks its way up the staircase to catch a glimpse of it’s reflections on the water. The birds will sing to it, telling it of it’s beauty.

June 29, 2013

I want to take all the rope in the world and make one big lasso
I want to lasso the stars and drag them closer to us
We could hop from star to star
Naming the unnamed after our favorite things
Each star would be different and we could absorb all of its energy
Soaking it into our skin
We could bask in the energy of our galaxy we named.