Captured (2000 word)

They took me when I was twelve, too young to be introduced to the evil of this world. They took me from the quiet, African town I called home. This was the place where my parents and family were, where I enjoyed the hot, sunny days running around with friends. The place where I was innocent and  believed no one could touch me. Who was to know what would happen next, nobody could believe such evils existed, but they do.  I was at school, a small, one story building with one-hundred students.This was a place where us kids felt safe and protected. It was a day like every other, very hot in our small, packed classroom. That day we were learning the times tables: “Okay class twelve times four?” asked the teacher. “Forty-eight,” replied the class. No one could have predicted what happened next. As the teacher looked up to ask the next problem her face turned white, her mouth opened slightly. Then we heard the bang. A hole appeared on her forehead, blood oozing out from it and she fell to the ground, dead. We all screamed and ran for the door, where men dressed in black, with their faces hidden in cloths suddenly came marching in. Everyone stopped moving, I had already started to cry but now I was shaking. I was the one closest to the door, not knowing what to do I slowly started inching back. All the men came in holding guns, and I stopped moving completely. One man came out in front of them, scanned the room and let out a wicked laugh. “Perfect” he said. “Okay all the gentlemen step forward to the front of the room,” he commanded. Nobody moved. “MOVE I SAID!” he roared. The boys scurried reluctantly to the front, their heads down, all of them crying. “Positions” said the man to his group. The men stood in front of the boys, each one holding a pistol to one of the boys’ head. Everybody cried out, afraid of what was going to happen next. “Shoot,” the man exclaimed. I looked at the boys, their eyes were closed tight and tears were streaming down their cheeks. I heard a loud bang and saw Adisa, the smallest boy in the class, fall down to the floor. Then came a series of shots, each ending the life of one of my friends. The shots vibrated through the walls, ringing through my ears. I quickly shut my eyes, covered my ears and dropped to the floor. I felt sobs shaking through my body; I could not believe what was happening. They killed them. Why had they killed them? Why haven’t they done anything to us girls? I did not know I was screaming until the room stopped vibrating and I was able to hear myself again. I couldn't look back up but I saw as I looked at the floor that a river of blood inched closer to me. I fell back, trying to get away from it.The man who commanded the order to kill the boys looked at me, bent his head towards his shoulder and smiled through his yellow, rotting teeth. He started to walk towards me “Well hello pretty lady,” he said as he stretched his hand down and put it in my hair. I shuddered at the feel of his hand, stroking my scalp, when suddenly he took hold of my hair tightly and pulled me up. I cried out and put a hand to my head to try and relieve some of the pain. He then released me and kicked me against the wall. “Okay start loading them to the trucks, these and the ones in the other rooms. They will be waiting for us at midnight by the river,” I heard him whisper to one of the men. The men started shouting again and then pushed us all through the doors and out into the blazing sun.

As I stepped outside and felt the sun hit my skin I felt a sense of security, I was afraid of the dark not the light, nothing and no one could hurt me right now. Someone would have to see us, these men were not being discreet with their actions, surely someone would come help us.  My sense of security and hope were quickly wiped away as I heard a scream coming from inside the school building and then, a deafening shot. Everybody on the courtyard turned toward the building, their eyes filled with terror. I didn't dare move, afraid as if I did the shot I just heard would follow me and hit me. This went on for a few minutes; nobody moved or made a noise. Just then the doors swung open and a man came out carrying a girl not much bigger than me on his shoulders, there was a path of blood trickling down the back of his shirt. My body filled up with terror and I started to shake. What was happening? Why were they doing this? The man continued walking through the courtyard, the girl’s head bobbing with each step he took. When he reached one of the trucks, he threw the girl in the back, and leaned on the car, waiting. What happened next is all a blur to me, we were loaded on the trucks and taken to the river, where the real terror began.

        When we arrived at the river it was already dark, now we were shadows and it became very clear that nobody would be able to help us. When we were unloaded from the truck it was noticeable that there were fewer girls than the ones from the courtyard. Those of us that remained were ordered to stand in a straight along the edge of the river. The men ordered us to not make any noise and to not move. They were walking around with guns, ready to shoot at anyone who made a sudden movement. I did not know what we were waiting for but I do remember I was afraid, I felt alone and I did not know what was going to happen to me. Had I done something wrong? What did I have that they wanted? Hours went by like this, the night became darker. I remember I was very tired, we had spent hours on our feet and all I wanted to do was lay down. My eyes were also giving up on me; they grew heavier with each blink. Just when I couldn't resist it anymore and I was ready to drop to the ground I heard them, and all the exhaustion slipped away. They were the voices of a dozen men, and they were getting closer. I remember thinking they might be here to help us, but they might also just be more of them. When the men finally got to where we were I looked at them, trying to decide whether they were going to help us. It was obvious they were not, most of them had a smirk on their face and were nodding at each other. A sudden coldness invaded my body, these were the men that were going to take me, they would take me far away and never let me come back. Suddenly a shout interrupted my thoughts: “Clothes off! Now!” There were gasps and murmurs from the girls around me. I froze as I realized what was happening, these men had come to take us off as brides. I looked at them, they were mostly older, had big stomachs and yellow teeth.  My body shook and I started crying. The girls around me had already started taking off their clothing. I did not want to move, I was not going to expose myself to them. Just then I felt a hand touch my arm, it was the girl standing next to me. “Please, they will hurt you if you do not do it.” she said, I looked over to the man who was still shouting. I turned to the girl and nodded, she gave me a comprehensive look and continued undressing herself.  I then begun to take off my head wrap, untwisting it and letting my curly hair loose. Then I moved down to my dress, unwillingly, but I understood what would happen to me if I did not obey. After removing my dress I instantly felt the cold chill of the night. I felt humiliated, I did not want the men looking at me like this and so I used my hands to try and cover up whatever I could. The men started moving, I could hear them shuffling to my right, they had already started looking at the girls. My heart was beating in my ear, I did not want them to get close to me, I could not move though, if I did they would kill me. I just stood in place, focused on the floor and on trying to control my shaking legs. As I tried to block out what was happening, a dark form appeared in front of me. I froze, my breath caught in my throat and tears stung at my eyes. “Hey there,” said one of them. I did not want to look up, not wanting to see the wanton look in the man’s eyes. I bent my body in an effort to try and conceal as much of my body as I could. The man moved, reached his hand to my chin, and raised it upwards. My eyes met his, and a smirk appeared on his face. “You have very pretty eyes” he told me. My eyes were burning with the tears I was trying to hold back, but they went against my wishes, and I felt a drop fall against my cheek. The man frowned, “Oh do not cry darling,” he said as he used his thumb to wipe it away and his left hand massaged my arm. I wanted to smack his hand away, to yell at him not to touch me, but there was nothing I could do, unless I wanted to die. So I let him continue, although the disgust building up inside me almost caused me to puke. “Do not worry, I won’t hurt you” he said to me. He called over one of the men that was patrolling the other girls. “I want this one,” he told him. “Come with me,” replied the other man. He finally let go of my shoulder and walked over with the man towards the trucks. I finally allowed the tears to stream down my face, he would come back, but he was not here right now. I reached over to squeeze the arm of the girl next to me, hoping to be able to gain some strength. She reached over to me and took hold of my hand, squeezing it tightly. “You have to be strong. Whatever happens next, you need to be able to keep your head up,” she told me. I looked her in the eyes and nodded, squeezed her hand one last time and then let go. I used my hands now to wipe the tears away, and filled with determination, I raised my chin. 

The man was now walking back towards me, he was looking into his wallet, nodded and then put it away. How much had he paid for me? What was my life worth? I looked up at the sky, saw the full moon illuminating us and prayed to God he would help me remain strong. This man could own my body, but he would not be able to control my thoughts and emotions. There was no way out of this, and so my only form of rebellion would be to remain strong, to not give him the satisfaction of killing me internally.  I owe that to myself and to the girl who helped me get through the most horrible day of my life. I will get through this. I am strong.

Old Money, New Money, and Everybody Else

                In the book The Great Gatsby, the division between the new money and the old money is very clear. The "old money" which consists of those people whose families have been very rich and powerful for some time and now are living off inherited money. The "new money", gosh I can't think about that term and not think about Titanic "Don't sit for tea with her, she's new money!", are those who have become rich from either starting a new business or finding oil reserves on their property. Remember that the late 1800's and early 1900's were all about Industrialization and making use of the natural resources from this country.
         The divide between these two groups of people can be seen when the Buchanans go to one of Gatsby's parties. On many occasions it is stated that Daisy is disgusted by the people. To her they seem to lack etiquette and poise, not until she saw Gatsby was she in a good mood. If these two groups are so obscenely rich, and yet do not get the respect of each other how is "everybody else" seen/ treated? I think that can be seen with Myrtle's husband. Myrtle and Tom flaunt their relationship around and the man does not notice a thing. By them acting as if he is not even in the room they show that they think of him as nothing. It's sad to think that these things will never change, the more money you have: the more you are worth, but what can we do about it?

I am thankful for...

       In my English class, sixth period, I am thankful for Ashley Cruz. Ashley had English with me last year too and we both went through the hardships of failing vocabulary tests and not understanding the Odyssey. We used to sit close to each other last year too, and walking to class on the first day of school this year I sat down next to her knowing that she  would be nice and supporting to me if any case this English class would be as bad as the last one , which it isn't because we have an awesome English teacher.  I am thankful that she helps me out when I am not understanding something and that she does it with kindness not like other people that will help you but they'll do so in an annoyed manner. I am also grateful for the fact that we share similar thoughts and we don't really have to argue with the answers when working in groups because sometimes always being in a constant fight with your peers over what the answer will be will not get you anywhere and therefore you will not be able to finish the work.

       I am also grateful for the fact that Ashley cares about her work, she's an  inspiring person , she works all day on school work and I've never heard her say anything bad about it, she likes it. I would like to see more of Ashley in myself but that's tough because she is amazingly smart and a really hard worker.

I Celebrate Myself

      Society nowadays has a specific portrayal of the person whom you should aim to be. People are not unique anymore because they are afraid of being judged and not being able to fit in.

     But I celebrate myself, I like myself I feel like I am unique and I do not do strive to please other people. I do what I do for myself, I wear what I wear because I like it and I don't stand in front of the mirror thinking "Am I going to fit in?" There are some people who want to no be seen to be invisible and not stand out. But I don't find a point in that, you exist so you deserve to be seen and you shouldn't live life thinking that it's better to blend in than to stand out.

    People think that' it's a bad thing to be seen because it might define you as weird but that is not the case in fact if you are too quite and don't make yourself seen then people will see you as different and weird. So celebrate yourself because we are all amazing, unique people who deserve to be acknowledged.

Poe

          I really like Poe, he is very gruesome and always gives us an unexpected ending. I like the gory details and the supernatural beings included in his stories.
       
      When I was in eighth grade my teacher made us read a lot of his stories and I really like them. There were two stories which I really liked. One was when a man killed his cat and the cat was "haunting" him and then one where this man had a obsession with a woman's teeth and he took them out and that was amazing.
   
        But I actually do feel bad for Edgar since he was very depressed his wife died and so did many other loved ones and well I really feel like he is expressing himself in his stories and so I feel really bad for him because he is speaking from his heart and if those are the things coming out of him then he must be really hurt on the inside. Hopefully he didn't end up a crazy man because that would be really sad.
   
       Well but if he didnt have those bad thoughts then we wouldn't have the crazy good stories we have today that he left behind, those bad things happened to him form some reason.

What is an American?

           Since no one really is from here, except maybe the Native Americans, we cannot really say that there is an American. But since the U.S has had almost 200 years of existence it has some of its own characteristics that makes the people that follow them "American".
          Many of our ancestors have come here looking for a better life, leaving their homeland behind. They bring with them their culture and hope for their children to continue to live as if they were being raised in their homeland. But what most of the time what happens is that the children become more like what the country they are in is, in this case the U.S. And then after many generations the outcome will be a person who solely believes they are American since many of their ancestors have lived their whole life here, they cannot connect with the place where they are originally from. They act like the other people that consider themselves American and they have the right to say that because what defines what you are is what you grew up doing and believing in.
         This reminds me of a book I just read about how a girl found out she had been adopted and that her biological parents wanted her back and she didn't know what to do. She had grown up in a family and those were the people who cared for her and loved her. But just because now someone is telling her that isn't true it doesn't mean it should stop being that way. The place in which you grow up in shapes you to be who you are. This girl doesn't know what to do because she really isn't from one place nor another, she cannot connect to her biological family but what she thought to be her family really isn't. Most of us cannot classify ourselves because we too are not from one place nor another. But even though  America isn't our native homeland, we grew up with its culture and language making it easier for us to say that we are American because we really cant connect to our native homeland the way we do with the place in which we are living in.
              So overall, I believe that all of us that follow the "American" culture can classify ourselves as American because it is what we can mostly relate to.

The Modern Day Puritan

      Who is the Modern Day Puritan? Is there one? Well, while reading the scarlet letter I couldn't help thinking about my favorite movie "Easy A". That movie just shows how WE are the Modern Day Puritan, we judge people just as harshly as the town judged Hester. We might think as we read the book "How can these people behave this way?" But come on! I bet if one of us walked around with a scarlet A on our chest, people would react the same way they did years ago.

        I actually hoped I could find someone else to portray as the Modern Day Puritan, but everyone around the world, will behave the way the townspeople behaved when they found out about Hester. I know it is bad but even when I get the news about someone being pregnant without being married, deep down I have that feeling of disappointment. We all judge people harshly, maybe not always for the same reasons the Puritans judged back then but we do form our little cliques and whoever steps a little out of line are looked down upon, "bullied" as we call it today.

       For those of you thinking "Oh no! We are not like that!", if you say that you are being hypocritical- we have all felt that way although maybe we fake liking the person and offer our support but deep down we are all the same judgmental, malevolent people.