I Am the AlphaI am the alpha,
the supreme one,
My will is the law
and my punishments just.
I am the queen,
the mighty one.
You must all obey
without any pause.
I am in charge,
the top dog
Yet somehow am lonesome
in my spot at the head.
I am the alpha,
The one we remember
And are glad when they're dead.
says the girl with an inquisitive stare,
pointing at the girls who aren't like her.
says the mother to her two small children
her gaze accusing as they walk by.
says the boy to his friends,
laughing cruelly in another boys face.
says the teacher with contempt,
talking to a class of mere children.
says one man to another,
guarding his wallet with unnecessary vigor.
says the father to his son,
his words more powerful than a thousand speeches.
All because they're different.
The EulogyIt was a quiet service, filled with the usual solemnity that followed funerals. The graveyard was silent, filled only with the sound of a single droning voice that spoke of sorrow and grief. The preacher stood, speaking over the coffin with the dignity of his position, carefully emphasizing every phrase that he felt was important.
"As a man of many friends, Mr. Smith was especially vibrant in his personality," the preacher was continuing, "Though I did not know the man, I have heard only good things about him. He was a strong man who knew what he wanted in life and set his goal to achieve it. He was a father, a son, a brother, and an uncle everything that a family could hope for. Although he has passed, we know he will be greatly missed."
The preacher was a younger man with a boyish face and the same chivalrous charm that a knight might have, saving a beautiful princess. He was tall and lean, handsome and well spoken, and yet somehow there was no cheerfulness in him then. With e
Backwards MoralIt was a very pretty day when Henrietta Hen made her way through the barnyard. As she passed each farm animal snickers followed her and whispers taunted her with every step. It was a sad fact that Henrietta was not a pretty hen, sporting rough gray feathers and dull black eyes, and in her yard being beautiful was the same as being God himself. More than anything Henrietta wanted to be pretty.
In the yard were other chickens, including the most attractive of all Raymond Rooster. Not only was Raymond a very handsome rooster, but he knew it and made it his business that everyone else know it too. Each day he would strut around showing all of the hens how very pretty he really was, and accordingly each would sigh and coddle as they were expected. Henrietta was not the only one to look longingly at Raymond's bright, flawless feathers, but she was the most desperate to get some for herself.
Finally Henrietta made a plan. Each night she would sneak over to where Raymond slept in the ch
April Fool's DayIt seemed like all I'd been saying today was "Happy April Fools Day", although in reality I realized there was nothing particularly happy about it. First class I had an advanced placement physics test, followed by an hour and a half of listening to my English teacher talk, topped by a math class where I failed a quiz and didn't get my homework done. It had really shaped up to be one of the least happy days I'd had that week, which was sad in many ways. I remembered as a kid I always had some big, exciting plan ready for my sister where I put green dye in her shampoo or glued the lid on her soda pop. Sadly, most of the pranks never happened.
I remembered also that for the entire school year I'd been planning a prank for orchestra class, my final class of the day. This was dangerous, because even on a good day the orchestra teacher could be a little unpredictable when it came to jokes, and to tell the truth she was never all that fond of me in the first place. Still, I didn't want to let
An Odd PairThey were an odd pair, the boy and the man who sat beside him every day in the park. They had been meeting daily for months, each glad for the other person's company. It was unsightly, a woman once scolded them, that a mere child and an elderly person should be friends when they were no relation to one another. Words that the boy did not understand were thrown at them in muttered conversations between the middle ages, tossing accusations like "pervert" around as if it were mere fact that the encounters could have no other meaning.
At first the man was weary of befriending the child, knowing what it would look like to the rest of the world. Still, the day that the boy had sat down beside him on the park bench he had been unable to stop himself from beginning a conversation. Any parent would have done it, he reasoned. Any person who was from a time period far before "pedophile" was a common word wouldn't have even had the moment of hesitation that he had.
It was just that the boy looked