Two page Backward Paper

She turned her head and died.
“Don't be afraid for me. I can see them and this place seems beautiful!”, she said with excitement despite her breath coming in breaks. A look came into her eyes and it was clear to David that Ruth was passing quickly. He held her hand so that she would have a hold on the physical all the way through to the end. David felt helpless in a way he never had, he had always been able to protect her when necessary, but not today he couldn't and probably never again.
Turning the corner into the small hospital room he could see Ruth's withering image in its deepest weakness. Then the stopped at a door and the nurse pointed, “In there,” she said and then when she saw he hesitation added, “Its alright, give her someone to be with. The nurse led David through the hallway past dozens of rooms that held their own personages who were somewhere important to someone. He started to walk behind her as she slipped down the hall. David's heart pounded with the knowledge of what he was here to accomplish.
“Follow me,” a nurse with the name tag “Ellen” directed him with a kind, understanding smile.
He looked around anxiously at every face at the hospital desk, clearly unsure who to beg for assistance in completing his quest.
“I need help finding Ruth...Jensen...” he trailed off.
Seeing the desk with three nurses in the middle of the hallway he rushed up to it. Clearing the sliding doors that seemed to be moving especially slow tonight David entered. It was clear that the hospital was small and not used to much action. He sprinted across the small parking lot toward the brown-red brick building that held the object of his affection. David pulled into one of the parking stalls and screeched the breaks to a stop while opening the door and releasing the keys from the ignition.
What would he discover when he got there and how would it change him. The sign he passed indicated that the hospital was going to be the next right turn. David's palms were sweaty on the wheel of the Land Rover and though he drove his mind was on what he considered entirely more crucial. What did it all mean? He had never felt so much worry and stress. Would it even still be called home? How would the meaning of life change if Ruth never enter their home again? It wasn't life that passed before his eyes, it was only Ruth.
He ripped onto the state highway going south. All of their excitement had now changed to tragedy, all of his dreams to nightmares. It had been a beautiful day then and they had felt like the world was theirs with nothing to slow them down. Sitting in the swinging seat they had held each other close while overlooking the still lake. They had discussed all their plans for the future, none of them involving what he was now feeling. That summer became clear like a crystal ball. David's mind focused on a solid thought of his sweetheart and memories flooded his vision so that they became quite distinct. It was unreal, it didn't even make sense.
In a jerked u-turn David spun the car around heading away from home.
“O..Ok,” David forced out as he put the phone down without realizing what he was doing.
“I'm sorry, these might be her last moments and we wanted you to have the opportunity to be with her,” spoke an intangible voice on the phone.
“What are you saying?,” said David, understanding, but not wanting to.
The voice came again,“There have been complications and it looks like she might not live much longer.”
“What?,” David whispered.
“Ruth is not doing well, and we believe that she is dying despite all we can do,” explained the cruel reality on the other end of the line.

3.8 Stock Characters

Evangelist/Rich Wido
"Maam, 'cuse me but it seems the Lawd has been good to ya!"
"Maybe I should thank the LAWD for my husband who has been dead for nine years. It was such an immense blessing."
"We'll ya see Ma'am the Lawd giveth and he taketh away. Idn't that true?"
"My husband worked for all I have, I don't think the Lord gave him anything."
"We'll den, he gave yo husban' da health to do all the this work."
"The health to be dead!"
"Now Ma'am I understand that the Lawd done bless you with an aweful lot of monetary blessin'."
"Not the Lord sir."
"We'll thats as may be, but I think you know bout all deem orphans and po'. Why I was wonderin' if you wouldn't wanta put some food on der plates wit some of yo' extreme blessings Ma'am."
"No I wouldn't."
"But Ma'am beggin' yo' pardon Ma'am, some day yous a gonna die and den where will all dose money be? I know da Lawd gonna bless you if you go an' help dese po' folks."
"No he won't."
"Now how you know dat Ma'am?"
"Because my husband donated to your cause 2 days before he died!"
"Oh."

Story in Calender form

Emily: Just to let you know I don't have your blog site, I thought I did but I dont so I'm just gonna give it a go and do my best.

Two thousand and one, the year of Luanne. January I met Luanne who was clearly the most amazing girl I've ever dated. She had that something else that just can't be explained. Between personality, talent, attraction and who I felt like when I was around her I was in love.
In February we were together nearly everyday. My schedule changed from focus on myself to making time for book clubs, dancing and even racket ball tourneys which she was better at than I was, but that never seemed to matter.
March is where I started to see real Luanne. I found out that like me she was not perfect, but her "bad habits" and mistakes didn't seem to bother me. In fact I thought they were cute. When her weaknesses made her more beautiful I realized I was hooked.
I took Luanne to meet my parents in April. My mother was the first to say, "Don't let this one go." When Mom gives the go ahead that's when you know that your seeing the real deal and not something that your mind just makes up. Her family turned out to be just as great as her and I felt like a member though I technically wasn't.
The new job that Luanne took in May had her moving out to Buffalo for two months, but it only happened at the end of the month. We treasured each moment together and firmed our promises that we would meet often and phone daily. I even secretly discovered her ring size.
Our talks on the phone were the highlight of everyday in June. I know I tired out family and roommates with my recounts of our hours on the line, but they were patient and we were still as in love as ever. We were planning our meeting the next month and I would be flying out to spend a week with Luanne, which is when I was planning on popping the question.
Her work picked up in July and her late nights working kept our phone conversations to a minimum, but the feeling was still the same. A new work load made the planned trip impossible so I held off for when she would soon be home. We could plan our future then.
August. She decided to stay in Buffalo. The work opportunity is too good. Our conversations came far apart. By the end of the month Luanne was dating other bloks and I was thinking about their dates.
We broke up September 16th and I went home to spend sometime with family. I still wanted to take a trip to Buffalo, just to see the sights, but I couldn't get up the energy to go. Besides Luanne wouldn't return the calls that I gave her to know where to tour while I was in town.
I don't really remember much about October and November except that I watched a lot of movies and was working too much to think about many other things.
December came around and friends wanted to set me up, but I was just to happy being single. Christmas was great with the family and I got a lot of things done during the month. I wasn't too excited about the new year, so I planned the trip to Buffalo that I had been planning to take for months.

Free Write-Literature and new literature

This is rather random, but I've been thinking about literature and what we think of when we write new literature. I've been thinking that nothing is really new. It's like saying that "I am completely my own person" without looking at who you were raised by and where your bloodline comes from. Sorry genetic history and examples around you matter. So when we write whose to say the are not subconsciously using other sources, other literature read, influence our own styles and subjects. In fact the majority of the writers that are considered the greats were very well read. So where am I going with this? We'll I feel like there is this idea that you have to be completely your own, but first of all it is unobtainable and second unnessesary. We will all be effected by what we read even if it doesn't seem like we are so why act like were self made writers. Besides isn't there value in using others as our examples and having something to compare to and to learn from? Its rather like geneology. When we look at what we have read it is like the family line as we start to create our own works, there is a little something from everywhere. So I say we embrace our heritage and acknowledge that, yes, we are all creative, but we are absolutely not self made. Our own styles are ours but only after we see what else is out there and make different parts our own.

Random Fiction Write-Free Write

Saying a forest is wild seems like the most obvious statement in the world. How can it be a forest if it is not a far expanse of trees, bushes, logs, creatures and other uncultivated living and dead. A tame forest makes sense only for those who were raised in cities and think the difference in an orchard and natures foliage are minuet. If land is covered by trees that man did not plant it therefore must be a forest and is most clearly wild. That is why in most cases putting the two words in the same sentence is unnessesary most of the time, except in the case of Locklearna. No, with Locklearna the forest is wild. Wild enough that it must be called thus.

Flashback flash forward handout exercise

Michael flew down the Old Tillery road on his well used ten speed. Looking desperately for Jenna he turned, tearing up a small alley that led to the Matthews Elementary School. He had to have her home before everyone was waiting for her to show to her surprise birthday party. Coming around the bend that faced the schools playground he saw her. "Jenna! I've been looking for you," he spoke quickly, ineffectively trying to cover up his fast paced breath. She sat on one of the aged and somewhat rusty swings, barely rocking. "Mom said she would push me on this swing even if I were a teenager." Jenna words came out as if she hadn't realized she were no longer alone, looking intently at the brown worn walls of Matthews. "Well, I'm a teenager and Mom won't push me," Jenna stated with only a slight quiver of emotion on the word "won't." Michael let the surprise party slip from his mind as his mothers smile came back to him. The smile was the only thing that still seemed real from the faded face that had been changed and buried more than two years ago. In the silence Michael heard a song begin far off in the distance. He didn't recognize it, but the first two notes were the same as those of a song that mother used to sing. Not often. Just when the world was all peace and she had been tucking her children into bed with the tranquil hours before dawn.

Free-write

Some of the most fun memories are those of first encounters. However I believe that we often over look some of our most important first encounters. We often consider them to be a new person that we meet. These experiences lead to funny memories of those we saw as prideful or kind only to find out that the person was completely opposite of what they seemed. How come we don't see a new event or a new place as a first encounter? How are these different from people? Often we come to see these events in a different light then we did originally. Experience changes our perception. The first time I went snow boarding I looked at steep slopes as insurmountable obsticles and yet now, to my changed eye, I see fun and hills that often seem no challenge at all. Funny how experience and time changes these first run-ins that we have to something else entirely.