Prologue:
On a wet street in the middle of a city, a girl of roughly thirteen years old lay barely conscious. The streetlight shining over her emphasized her noire* hair, which was in old-fashioned ringlets, framing her thin ivory face. She was on her back, right arm across her chest, while her left was close by her side. Her knees were bent, hips turned to the right side. The people on the street looked at her as they passed, tossing coins and the occasional bill onto the ground near her feet. The girl was wearing a dress much like those found in the late nineteenth century. It was a bluish color – now brownish – with lace all around; on the cuffs, sleeves, collar, and at any other edge that didn’t have anything on it.
“Probably one of those whores from the theatre down the street,” mumbled one passerby to his friend. The men quickly walked away; scandal was the last thing they needed.
A small, scruffy-looking dog padded up to her and licked her face. The girl’s eyelids flickered open to reveal electric-blue irises. She sat up quickly, stunned to see the filth-laden animal. Backing up against one of the concrete buildings, tears began to fall from her eyes. She couldn’t remember ever seeing a dog and this one, with its wet and matted fur, scared her. The dog walked a little closer to her, then, sensing her fear, backed away and continued on up the street.
Sure that he was gone, she pushed herself away from the building and tried to stand using the rusted end of a fire escape to pull herself up and off of the dirty concrete. When the people saw her, they took a double-take. A teenager that’s having problems standing has to be a druggie, or that’s what they all seemed to think.
When she was up, she tried to walk. After taking two steps, she had begun to sweat from the strain and from all of the pieces of clothing she was wearing, only noticeable by her onyx hair sticking in clusters to her forehead.
Finally, she made it to the end of the sidewalk – no more than six steps. She sighed and wiped at her forehead, then wiped her hand on her opposite sleeve. A red light flashed, reflected in her eyes. It stayed for a minute, then turned green. Something honked at her and she spun around, seeing bright lights, and then jumped back to where she had started. Crystalline droplets fell from her eyes. She pulled her knees closer to her and wrapped her arms around them, and began to sob quietly into her dirty sleeves.
###
The tears had come to a stop. Now, she just sat there, staring at the things passing by, with their bright lights. Hardly any people were passing by now. She tilted her head up to the sky and looked for the stars, or the moon, but saw neither. The lights and buildings of the city blocked them out. Her hands went up to her face to rub her eyes, and when she pulled them down, an old woman was looking down at her. The girl’s eyes widened and she tried to hide her face in her knees, but the woman touched her shoulder and spoke softly, soothingly to her.
“Dear, do you need a place to stay?”
She pulled her head free of her knees, not really afraid of the woman anymore. Her pretty face, with few wrinkles looked kind, like it had been through a peaceful life, like nothing bad had ever happened to the woman. She nodded to her, and stretched her legs out, preparing to get up again.
The woman noticed her difficulty and offered the dirty girl her hand and asked, “Do you have a name?”
The girl took her hand and heaved herself up, shakily standing. She stared at the woman blankly, not understanding.
“Ah, a mute? Well, my name is Ms. Rose. I run an orphanage down the street. Would you like to stay there tonight?”
She didn’t know what an orphanage was, but she nodded again and a small smile even crept onto her face.
“Alright then, you’ll stay with me tonight. And I think I’ll call you. . . Celeste, until you tell me or remember your name.” Ms. Rose smiled, and took Celeste’s hand and led her down the sidewalk towards Rose Orphanage.
----------------
*Noire: Means "black" in French.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Movie Review -- Had to Write for Newspaper Class
The Dark Knight, starring Christian Bale, Michael Caine, Aaron Eckhart, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Morgan Freeman, and the late Heath Ledger, was the top grossing movie of 2008. Taking place in the city of
The movie opens with the Joker (Ledger) and his crew of thugs robbing a bank – the bank account belonging to another gang. The Joker uses this as leverage to gain the gang’s assistance in killing Batman (Bale). Harvey Dent (Eckhart), the city’s new “ray of hope,” offers to help Batman in protecting the city, even giving himself up as Batman, to keep him on the street. In turn, Dent is taken into custody. When being transported to Central, the Joker took an 18-Wheeler and ensues in a high-speed chase. Batman, of course, comes to the rescue, saving Dent and clearing his name of “Batman.” The Joker is apprehended by Officer Gordon. However, Dent is taken, along with Rachel Dawes, by the Joker’s thugs to separate buildings, both filled with oil drums. And then, a new enemy for Batman is born out of revenge and hate.
Hans Zimmer and James Newton Howard composed the background music to The Dark Knight. Fitting the title, all of the songs are very dark, and very suitable for the scenes they are played in. For example, in the beginning, the music is slightly anxious, which fits because the Joker’s minions are anticipating the robbery, are anticipated who they shoot, and who, if anyone, would shoot them. When Batman appears, the music is dark, fitting the way he’s always out at night, protecting the city of
The acting in The Dark Knight is done exceptionally well, even going so far as one of the actors, Heath Ledger, dying from getting so into character. Christian Bale does an excellent job as well, portraying Batman’s dark demeanor in his expressions and voice. Ledger seemed to have the hardest part, having to play a depressed psychopath, or Batman’s other half; the half you never see. The Joker’s character was so depressing, Ledger ended up overdosing on anti-depressants in the middle of 2008.
When I first saw the film, I was appalled at how well it was done. All of the acting, the music, even the length, I thought was perfect. I laughed at some parts, and I felt sad in others. It had me interested the whole time, despite the two and a half hour length. I could look past that, because I knew and felt that it was a great movie. And it was. Deeply entertaining, it strikes you right to the core, if you really get into wondering about how the characters think, how they feel, what made them do this, what made them do that. And since the movie is a thought-provoker, it’s easy to wonder about it. Overall, it’s a good movie, well acted, and easy to love. Easily deserving the billions of dollars it made through DVD/Blu-ray sales and at the box-office.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
The Pain of Not Knowing
I had fallen to my knees. The pain had sent a terrible shock through my spine all the way down to my toes.
Yeah, I thought, it’s happening again.
I sighed and closed my eyes, my hands planted to the ground, barely holding my upper body steady. I guess you could say I was pretty at peace in soul, but if you had seen me, you wouldn’t have thought it with my body doubled over, hands on the ground and probably sweating. It wouldn’t have been something I would have called peaceful. But I was used to this.
It wasn’t a beating, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s not some stupid transformation, like turning into a werewolf. Hell, it’s not even a disease that I know of. Honestly, I don’t know what it is. It happens to me every once in a while, and for some reason, it’s always when I’m alone. Never had this “spasm” happened in front of my friends, family, anyone at all. I didn’t know if it was something in my head, or if it was something physically wrong with me.
I had begun to wonder about my sanity. I wanted to believe that I was perfectly sane, that these waves of pain didn’t happen, even though I knew they did.
I’ve done research and I’ve been to a doctor. I’ve told him my symptoms, had X-rays, CAT scans – I’ve had all I can have done, done. The doctor told me I was perfectly normal, that my body wasn’t harmed in anyway, that I was in perfect health.
For a second, I stopped thinking of my malady and breathed, thinking the pains were gone. Only a small spasm rocked my body and made my fingernails dig into the blue earth under me.
Outside, on a trail, I had fallen. There hadn’t been anyone around because this trail was almost always deserted. I don’t even know why I had decided to go on a walk – it was just this random “want” to do it. I laughed and yet another small, but sharp, pain cut across me, almost suffocating me. Maybe that was my problem; wanting to go where no one was.
I smiled at that thought. (No pain this time.) I had always been a recluse, but when I had turned eighteen, my mother forced me to leave her house, telling me to “never come back.” I never did. She was too evil-spirited for me, this being the reason for my wanting to be left alone. The woman scared me, more than you can even imagine. I still see my sister on holidays, but that’s about it.
Perhaps this problem of mine was due to the fact of my finally coming out of my shell and going to people – friends – for comfort. It could be that my body was so sick of being kept in the darkness that every time I went out alone it would react negatively to the lack of people. It seemed silly, even to me, but I could believe anything.
I slowly picked myself up, one leg at a time. I pushed with my hands (on my knees) and rose to my feet, triumphant yet again. I coughed, and put my sleeve over my mouth out of habit. When I drew it away, it had flecks of scarlet on it.
I shrugged. This had happened before, too. I looked up the trail and knew that it was only a few yards back to my house. There, I would have my dog for company. Or at least my body counted him as company.
Staggering back to the house, a thought occurred to me; I knew one day that this strange sickness would have me and no one, not even me, would really know its reason for attacking me.
When I opened the door to the house, I walked inside, and fell onto the couch without closing the door. My dog, Seraph, ran into the living room where I was and jumped up onto the couch beside me and started to lick my arm. She wasn’t a big dog, only a small gray schnauzer, so she didn’t weigh enough to hurt me.
“Hey girl, you doing okay?” I mumbled to the dog. She looked at me with bright eyes and yelped a “hello” to me. My body felt weak as I got up to shut the door. I didn’t want to spasm again. Seraph had followed me to the door like the obedient dog she was.
“It happened again, Seraph. I want to know what is plaguing my body. Can you tell me, girl? Can you?” I bent down on my knees and got to her level, roughly a foot and a half off of the ground. She looked at me with those sparkly brown eyes, but she didn’t have an answer for me, though she did look sorry that she couldn’t help.
“It’s alright, girl. We’ll find a cure for it one day.” I patted her head and walked up to my bedroom to undress and go to sleep. Seraph ran up the stairs past me and jumped up onto the bed, waiting for sleepy-time.
When I woke up the next morning, I remembered that I had a lunch date with my friend Carmella. I looked at the clock and saw that it was almost eleven-thirty.
“Shit,” I whispered to myself as I jumped out of bed to get cleaned up. I ran into the bathroom to brush my teeth, but stopped when I noticed that Seraph was gone.
“Seraph?” I called. She was always there for me in the morning, no matter how late I slept. She never left the bedroom without me.
I walked down the stairs, not bothering to brush my teeth and only in my underwear, calling her name, but there was no answering bark.
Seraph was gone. And I had no idea where she had went.
Tears bloomed in the corners of my eyes and fell like cherry blossoms in the wind. Even if I had human friends, Seraph was my only real friend. And she was the protection from the sickness while I was at home.
But now I was home alone.
Yeah, I thought, it’s happening again.
I sighed and closed my eyes, my hands planted to the ground, barely holding my upper body steady. I guess you could say I was pretty at peace in soul, but if you had seen me, you wouldn’t have thought it with my body doubled over, hands on the ground and probably sweating. It wouldn’t have been something I would have called peaceful. But I was used to this.
It wasn’t a beating, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s not some stupid transformation, like turning into a werewolf. Hell, it’s not even a disease that I know of. Honestly, I don’t know what it is. It happens to me every once in a while, and for some reason, it’s always when I’m alone. Never had this “spasm” happened in front of my friends, family, anyone at all. I didn’t know if it was something in my head, or if it was something physically wrong with me.
I had begun to wonder about my sanity. I wanted to believe that I was perfectly sane, that these waves of pain didn’t happen, even though I knew they did.
I’ve done research and I’ve been to a doctor. I’ve told him my symptoms, had X-rays, CAT scans – I’ve had all I can have done, done. The doctor told me I was perfectly normal, that my body wasn’t harmed in anyway, that I was in perfect health.
For a second, I stopped thinking of my malady and breathed, thinking the pains were gone. Only a small spasm rocked my body and made my fingernails dig into the blue earth under me.
Outside, on a trail, I had fallen. There hadn’t been anyone around because this trail was almost always deserted. I don’t even know why I had decided to go on a walk – it was just this random “want” to do it. I laughed and yet another small, but sharp, pain cut across me, almost suffocating me. Maybe that was my problem; wanting to go where no one was.
I smiled at that thought. (No pain this time.) I had always been a recluse, but when I had turned eighteen, my mother forced me to leave her house, telling me to “never come back.” I never did. She was too evil-spirited for me, this being the reason for my wanting to be left alone. The woman scared me, more than you can even imagine. I still see my sister on holidays, but that’s about it.
Perhaps this problem of mine was due to the fact of my finally coming out of my shell and going to people – friends – for comfort. It could be that my body was so sick of being kept in the darkness that every time I went out alone it would react negatively to the lack of people. It seemed silly, even to me, but I could believe anything.
I slowly picked myself up, one leg at a time. I pushed with my hands (on my knees) and rose to my feet, triumphant yet again. I coughed, and put my sleeve over my mouth out of habit. When I drew it away, it had flecks of scarlet on it.
I shrugged. This had happened before, too. I looked up the trail and knew that it was only a few yards back to my house. There, I would have my dog for company. Or at least my body counted him as company.
Staggering back to the house, a thought occurred to me; I knew one day that this strange sickness would have me and no one, not even me, would really know its reason for attacking me.
When I opened the door to the house, I walked inside, and fell onto the couch without closing the door. My dog, Seraph, ran into the living room where I was and jumped up onto the couch beside me and started to lick my arm. She wasn’t a big dog, only a small gray schnauzer, so she didn’t weigh enough to hurt me.
“Hey girl, you doing okay?” I mumbled to the dog. She looked at me with bright eyes and yelped a “hello” to me. My body felt weak as I got up to shut the door. I didn’t want to spasm again. Seraph had followed me to the door like the obedient dog she was.
“It happened again, Seraph. I want to know what is plaguing my body. Can you tell me, girl? Can you?” I bent down on my knees and got to her level, roughly a foot and a half off of the ground. She looked at me with those sparkly brown eyes, but she didn’t have an answer for me, though she did look sorry that she couldn’t help.
“It’s alright, girl. We’ll find a cure for it one day.” I patted her head and walked up to my bedroom to undress and go to sleep. Seraph ran up the stairs past me and jumped up onto the bed, waiting for sleepy-time.
When I woke up the next morning, I remembered that I had a lunch date with my friend Carmella. I looked at the clock and saw that it was almost eleven-thirty.
“Shit,” I whispered to myself as I jumped out of bed to get cleaned up. I ran into the bathroom to brush my teeth, but stopped when I noticed that Seraph was gone.
“Seraph?” I called. She was always there for me in the morning, no matter how late I slept. She never left the bedroom without me.
I walked down the stairs, not bothering to brush my teeth and only in my underwear, calling her name, but there was no answering bark.
Seraph was gone. And I had no idea where she had went.
Tears bloomed in the corners of my eyes and fell like cherry blossoms in the wind. Even if I had human friends, Seraph was my only real friend. And she was the protection from the sickness while I was at home.
But now I was home alone.
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