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Kyle Jones October 19, 2009 4th Period Essay Topic:

Kyle Jones October 19, 2009 4th Period Essay Topic:

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Published by Kylejones00
this is my first real story just need some constructive critsism and i know the ending is lame as crap im working on it
this is my first real story just need some constructive critsism and i know the ending is lame as crap im working on it

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Published by: Kylejones00 on Oct 23, 2009
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Kyle JonesOctober 19, 20094
th
PeriodEssay Topic:
NOVEL WRITING
In collaboration with Scholastic Inc. PUSH imprint, the Alliance for Young Artists & Writersis pleased to present the Novel Writing Category. Novels are longer narratives divided inchapters. Adaptations of, or sequels to already existing published works are notaccepted. The submission must include an outline for the entire book, not to exceed twopages, which is not counted in the 50-page limit. Approximately 500 novel manuscriptsare submitted each year. One national-level Novel Gold Medalist will work with aprofessional editor to complete his/her manuscript, with the possibility of publication.Students whose works are not recognized will NOT receive feedback on their submissions.
Grades 7 – 12:
Limited to 12 – 50 pages. Must include at least three and no more thanfive chapters. If more than 50 pages or five chapters are submitted, the first 50 pages orfive chapters will be read.
Special Deadline
for ALL Novels regardless of region: Allnovel submissions must be received by March 12, 2010 and sent directly to: Alliance for Young Artists & Writers (Novel Writing), 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012
Friday January 16,2009
It finally happened today. My anger finally got the better of me. My new court mandatedtherapist tells me I have to keep this stupid journal from now on, “This will help you place your anger into a safe outlet.” She wants me to write down what happened first. Well here goes.It started like every other Friday of the year; I woke up, ate my captain crunch, got dressed andwent off to school. On my way to my fifth period A.P. Art Jasper stopped me in the hallway and toldme he needed to talk to me after school in the parking lot. Jasper and I have been friends since we werein first grade. We spoke to each other about every thing so I thought nothing of this. After the 7
th
period bell rang I went to my locker and gather all my books together and casually walked out to my car, onlyhalf-remembering that Jasper had asked me to meet him. As I unlocked my car and start to put all mystuff into it, Jasper came up to me in close to a complete panic, which is very unusual for Jasper  because he is generally a very calm and collected guy. When I got a good look at him I was terrified.“What's wrong!” I exclaim with worry in my voice.“It happened again!” he screamed so loud it's a wonder the windows of the school didn't shatter.“Jasper,” I say hurriedly, “calm down and tell me what happened! ”“It's Harlow. Its happened again.”By now he's completely out of breath. If it weren't for the black Honda shoved underneath him Idoubt he would have been able to stand. Usually I would have mocked him unmercifully for being insuch a ridiculous state of exasperation, but this time I couldn't bring myself to do it for he had saidthose words. Those words meant Harlow was in serious trouble and she needed our help fast.Harlow was Jasper's twin sister. Ever since I can remember she has always been apart of our “Rat Pack”, as our parents called us in an obscure reference to a long forgotten time. She's about fivefoot nine inches tall and one hundred and five pounds, she was very proud of this fact so she made itknown to us every time the subject even remotely came up. She was beautiful; she has red-brown hair and silky smooth, lightly tanned skin. Her eyes are a glorious amber brown, when she's not wearing her  blue contacts, that engulfs your entire body and leave you in an euphoric state of bliss, and her voice isa sweet, soothing symphony of harmonic tones. In essence, she is the perfect girl. Harlow, however,has an issue with her love interests. In the past, Harlow hasn't had the best of luck with guys.
 
“Where is she?!” I exclaimed with anger filling every fiber of my being.“She's with that jerk Bobby,” he said. I could tell he was just as mad as I was.“Okay, get in.” I said with my eyes glazed over in rage. Bobby had no hope.Jasper and I speed off in my car, mine was much faster than his, and rushed to Bobby's house.We knew exactly where this was because on more than one occasion we have had to come pick her up.Bobby, as well as any other of Harlow's boyfriend, was the typical jock. He was tall, athletic, and onlyreally cared for one person, himself. He has the I.Q. of a pickle and only ever wanted to date anyonelike Harlow to get into her pants, and when his type doesn't get what they want they tend to get violent.By the time we got to Bobby's house it was too late. Harlow had already been thrown to thefloor and was completely unconscious. As I walked in I saw her beautiful limp body laying motionlesson the floor. I lost it. My rage had absolute control over my body. I charged into Bobby with all mymight. As he lay on the floor underneath me stunned my fist begin to fly wildly. I have lost all controlat this point. As my fists sink into Bobby's face, with blood dripping from them, I hear some onescream, “STOP YOUR GOING TO KILL HIM!” but I pay no attention. I had to teach this monster alesson that he wouldn't soon forget. It wasn't until Jasper got a full grasp on me and tore me away fromhim.My heart is racing so fast I can barely hear anything but the constant thud of it against mychest. There is sweat droplets racing down from my forehead. I take a few deep breaths and I amsucked back into reality. All around me there is screaming and all I can see is Harlow grasping on tothe chest of Bobby. I look down at my hands and see they are stained with a hideous crimson liquid. Ilook back up and I see Jasper still clutching me. I can feel his body quiver as he holds me. I look intohis eyes and and I can tell something bad just happened.I stand up quickly and rush over to Harlow. She's sobbing. I try to pull her into a hug to comforther but she shoves me away.“YOU'RE A MONSTER,” Harlow shouts at me, her voice filled with a trembling terror anddetest that stabbed into my soul like the dagger that Brutus so infamously drove into Caesar's back. Her eyes were as cold as they looked on to my face.“I was just trying to protect you Harlow. Why are you being like this?” I asked in a confusedtone. This was not like Harlow. She usually was very grateful after we saved her. “I saved you fromhim.” I said, my anger begging to rise again. “He's the 'monster' not me. All I've ever wanted to do was protect you! What's wrong?!”Tears were now streaming down my face. I was so confused. My hands were covered in blood,the girl I had idolized ever since we were two-year-olds playing in a small plastic pool in the backyardcouldn't stand the sight of me, and Jasper was huddled into a corner pale faced and quivering. I stoodup and took in a deep breath and looked around once more. As I scanned the area I finally noticedBobby lying there in a pool of his own blood. His face was already turning black and blue where myfist had met his face. His nose was swollen and oozing blood and his mouth was just as turgid as hisnose with the same amount of blood in or around it. As I stared at the limp figure I couldn't help butthink that Bobby wasn't so tough anymore.Later on, after much fighting between Harlow and I and several attempts on Jaspers part to break up the fighting we settled down long enough to explain to the police, who Bobby's attendant wasever so nice enough to call, what happened. They incarcerated me for aggravated assault and due to thefact that I'm still a minor and I've never been in trouble before I only had to be apart of this new“criminal rehabilitation program” that requires me to where a big R, for rage, over my clothes for twomonths.
Saturday January 17, 2009
My therapist, excuse me Jenny, as she wants me to call her now, tells me that I will be allowedto go home tomorrow. It's about time. Beside going to and from therapy I've been stuck in this halfwayhouse of “anger/aggression victims.” It's a living hell in here, all these people blow up over thestupidest stuff. I don't belong here! I can't wait to see Harlow and go back to my normal life.
Sunday January 18, 2009
 
I went home today. My parents came home to pick me up from the stupid halfway house thismorning around 8 a.m.. Mom was so excited to see me she started to cry. This made me laugh, for shewas not crying because she missed me or because she was happy to see me or any other motherly thingyou could think of; she simply needed the attention. I could tell Dad was happy too, even with his usualnon emotional demeanor. He wasn't happy to see me, however, he was happy I had finally donesomething remotely “manly.”My parents were the typical nine to five Tom Jones and it's five o'clock somewhere BettyHomemaker. Paul Lorde and Suzann Grace were students of Perfectville High School. Paul was captainof almost every school sport and was considered the home town hero. Suzann was the captain of thecheer leading team, queen of every dance and president of the school pep squad. Paul and Suzann werethe perfect couple all the way through high school. Don't get me wrong I don't mind a couple who gottogether in high school and loved each other and stayed together for that reason, but Paul and Suzannwere “high school sweethearts” for the sake of popularity. Behind the facade of their very publicromance, the two hated each other. When they were finally out of the public eye they would get intoscreaming matches with each other, pulling every demeaning, humiliating, and mean term from thinair. Suzann would cry until her make up was so run down she could have been mistaken for MarilynManson, and Paul demand that she stop acting this was she was just being overly dramatic. This illfated romance of two teenage lovers soon turned into an ill fated romance of two twenty somethinglovers in which Suzann would pretend she was happy and turn to alcohol to drown her sorrows. Paulalso matured along with his “love”, except he did not turn to alcohol for his answers instead he turnedto “work.”This pattern continued each year until the year I came into the picture. To my mother, I was theanswer to all of her and my father's problem, and for awhile she was right. When I was first born Paulturned into Dyno-Dad and Helpful-Husband. He would take me for walks when my mother was tired,feed me when mom “needed a break”, as she would say. All seemed to be going well; we were truly afamily. But, as in most cases, this period of happiness and gaiety came to an abrupt end. As soon as Iwas able too feed myself, dress myself, and form coherent enough sentence to call the police, they were back to their old ways.In the long run I suppose I don't really think I would change the way my parents were. I mean if they had been good, responsible parents I wouldn't have been force to mature so early and not be thesame person I am today. Either way it's almost time for Harlow and Jasper to show up so I guess I'mdone writing um bye.
Monday January 19, 2009
Jasper and Harlow were supposed to come by yesterday, I guess they just thought it wasdifferent due to the circumstances, I don't know. Either way it's their night for dinner, ever since wewere five years old Jasper and Harlow would come to my house on Sunday nights to eat some of mymoms fried chicken and I would go to their house on Mondays for spaghetti, so, I guess I will see himthen.I wasn't planning on writing again tonight, but something very odd happened after I left home togo to Jasper's.I was walking down the stairs and about halfway out the door when I quickly shouted “ByeMom,” as is customary. But both Mom and Dad let out a huge shriek of terror That was so ear piercingthat I thought my ears were going to bleed saying “STOP!!”“Where are you going?!” They inquired, still with the pitch of banshees.“Over to Jasper and Harlow's, like I've done every other Monday for the last twelve years of mylife?” I replied in an inquisitive tone.“I doubt they would want you there, we certainly don't want you he....” my dad was instantlyinterrupted with a hard blow to the stomach and a harsh look from my mom.“What your father's trying to say is,” she added and meant to continue but I had enough.“Yeah I get what he's trying to say,” I interrupted, “and by that look on your face you feel thesame way so bye!”

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