Archive for the ‘Student Fiction’ Category
My first volcano hiking was when I was seven years old. My father´s family owns a coffee farm that takes part of the Acatenango Volcano. The Acatenango, as it is named, is the third tallest volcano in Guatemala out of more than twenty in the entire country. Acatenango is about four thousand meters high or about thirteen thousand feet. The farm’s inner roads go into the volcano as high as three thousand meters, meaning that we had to hike about one thousand meters to the first peak. Acatenago has to peaks with a difference of approximately three hundred meters. The views are incredible.
Our last time at Acatenango, about three years ago, my family and some friends, went to see the volcano. Of course, not everyone could conquer the second peak, and some take more than one hour to get to the first one. We began walking up at around four pm, expecting to have the camp ready by six pm. We get to gather, as we go up the volcano, some firewood for the night. We stay up in to the night singing, telling stories, and basically hanging out. Reaching the second peak is the next early morning challenge, but running the volcano downhill is the best part.
Once upon a time there was a little girl named Duba. She was short and blonde and had a very nice eyebrow ring. Every day she went skipping around to school, croquet, and searching for her prince. Unfortunately, she met a lot of evil pirates along the way. One was very large and bribed her with soda. Another was a big strong basketball player that captured her and took her away to the far away island of Palmetto. On one particularly sad, rainy day Duba was having her acrylic nails put on when she heard a knock on the door. Her tall, handsome, well-dressed father Bergei answered the door. A young lad in white tights and a sword drove up in his silver carriage with his crazy curly-haired knight. The lad was very handsome with red hair and a nicely shaped beard. He asked Bergei’s permission to see Duba, for he heard she was quite a fair maiden. Bergei slammed the door in the poor lad’s face. A week later, Duba was outside of Seven Eleven when the lad approached her. “Hello,” he said. “My name is Vom.” They fell instantly in love. Duba and Vom spend days together walking the beach, sharing secrets and reading eachother poetry. One day, Bergei saw them together. He told Duba she was forbidden to talk to him or see him ever again, that she was too young and needed to focus on croquet. This made Duba very sad. Fortunately, Duba met a very nice, happy girl named Fana. Fana and Duba became best friends and Fama helped Duba with all of her problems and vice-versa. Fama had a blackberry which Duba used to call Vom. They spoke every night for 2 hours. Fana didn’t mind that her phone bill was in the thousands because she knew Duba was happy and that made her happy. One day, Bergei eat a magical piece of fruit shaped like a heart that made him open to the idea of a relationship between Von and his daughter. Now, Duba, Von, Bergei, and Fana are all close friends. They go fishing, shoe shopping, out to fancy restraunts and help eachother with their diets. They all lived happily ever after.
Yesterday I went to the mall to pick up a present for a girl. I went to the best jewelry place they had to see what I could get her and what she might like. I was looking through the glass cases trying to pick something out. It was so hard because there is a lot of nice stuff and I couldn’t figure out which to get her. When I got to the diamond section I wasn’t even watching my surroundings when all of the sudden I bumped into some little short dude with dreads. When that happened there were four huge body guard looking dudes all over me holding me back. All I heard was a very weird laugh that sounded awfully familiar. Then I saw some little creature with dreads walk through the towering guys and I had to blink like a hundred times to figure out that it was Lil’ Wayne, my favorite rapper. I apologized to him I don’t know how many times. I was so embarrassed. He said it was okay and laughed. He also said no problem as long as Iwas a fan not a hater. I was like “no way Weezy you’re my favorite.” He asked me what I was doing there. I told him all about my anniversary with this special girl. He appointed me to the best jeweler there and said don’t worry about the cost. After that I was shocked and so excited at the same time. He gave me his personal assistants email for when I wanted concert tickets the next time he was in Florida. He said he had to get going because his diamond grillz were going to be done later and he had to meet up with his agent. I asked him more then anything besides covering the cost of my girl’s anniversary present if he would perform at IMG. He said he would defiantly get a date open and come and perform. April fools!
When I stepped outside, upon the barrage of noise, I took a moment to look up into the sky. It was in this moment my eyes were filled for the very first time. So vast and so devouring, my pupils became consumed with the stars above. In a state of peace, it was when my eyes absorbed the spectrum of stars. I noticed for the first time how fortunate I am. For, at the same time I looked into the sky, so did a boy whose life was far different then mine. This boy, unlike me, is faced with dying every day. At the end of his day, he walks out onto the barren land and walks far from the safety of his mother. He knew if his mother ever caught him he would be in a great deal of trouble. What drives him to rebel from his mother’s wishes is not because he wishes to upset her. It is simply because after a long day filled with fear he wishes to simply look up into the sky. To be able to feel free and have a sense of comfort knowing he is all alone with nature. While my eyes are still consumed with the stars, this young boy’s desire to live is driven by the stars. He realizes that if he does not survive he will never see the beauty that most men oversee. This, in fact, scares him more then dying. — Greg Romein
Once upon a time there was a little boy named Mr. Kennedy. He lived with his stepfather, the crazy butcher, and stepbrother – the aspiring artist that always hit on him. They were the meanest people in all the land of Bradenton, Florida. Each day they would make him go to IPI and walk down the street with all the evil hicks who offered him candy. He would sit in his classroom every day and pray to be rescued by a fair maiden. He would sing “in my own little classroom at my own little desk, I could be whomever I want to be.” He would pretend to be a star basketball player scoring the winning basket with 5 seconds to go. He would put on his brothers tights and pretend to be Mikhail Baryshnikov, the famous dancer. He would even steal his stepdad’s leather pants from the 80’s, mix flour and water to make a face mask, use food coloring to dye his lips, and with another little something here and there – he convinced himself that he was KISS guitarist Gene Simmons.
One day, there was a knock at the door. A lovely African-American woman asked to borrow some flour for the cake she was baking. He quickly learned she was the next door neighbor. First, he thought he was out of luck because he’d used all the flour for his “rock concert”, but then he realized he could just give her cash so she could buy some. He stole a twenty from his dad (which was always hidden under the machine gun he kept in his sockdrawer) and gave it to this beautiful woman.
Well, we all know what happens next. Now little Mr. Kennedy is as happy as ever living in her trailer with ten racially confused kids and comes home to a nice dinner and clean clothes every night. Although he didn’t make it as the next Gene Simmons, he found the love of his life and that’s what counts.