Spring DWA

Tell Us a Story

 Author's Note: In this piece my main focus was improving a lot on my idea development and content. My fall DWA scored very low in this category and I definitely know why. In this piece, I wrote in a similar mode to irony. The only difference is it doesn't start off in chaos, It's much more of an everyday setting to start. I also tried a new way of writing in this story. I wrote in an almost Princess Bride method.

"Grandpa's coming over today Joey!" She's so excited she looks like a squirrel drinking coffee.

"Great…" Joey's sarcastic tone has no effect on Jane.

"I know right? Do you think he'll tell us another story today?"

"You're darn tootin' I will!" Their grandpa walks in and pulls them in for a hug; settling down on the couch and motioning for them to join him. "But today I think it's time that I tell you about the bad memories too. Not just the good ones." Grandpa nudges Jane and winks, and she laughs remembering the story about grandma.  "Did I ever tell you I was in the war?"

The soldiers around me gasp for breath and trudge along beside me, hoping that I know. That I know the true way out of combat and into safety. Their hope is the only chance at living that they're forced to hold on to. Frightening as it is, 67 soldiers are putting their lives in my hands. Just praying that I can truly save them.  We've been fighting for over eight months now and just today alone we've walked thirteen miles. I can't bear to be here another day. Even the thought of my family wells up tears in my eyes in seconds. I'm sure the others feel the same way.

The smoke fills my lungs and I take my final breath. My final breath until my fellow commander notices that I'm in much worse condition than he is. I pass out and don't recall the bomb going off which I'm told in such gruesome detail later on when I wake up.

"What do you mean grandpa? Why was there smoke everywhere? What do you mean there was a bomb?" The children bubble over with nervous excitement and their grandpa tries to calm them down and have them just listen to his story.

"Hold your horses. I'll explain everything in a minute"

I wake up with the blinding fluorescent lights shining directly into my eyes. The doctor notes my consciousness and calls several other members of his staff over for assistance in sitting me up in this make-shift bed.  To my left sits one of the members of my unit who's right arm looks too limp for comfort.  To my right lays a man I have never seen before. But by the looks of it, he won't make it through the night; or morning. I honestly couldn't tell  you if it was midnight or eleven in the morning right now.

I was too occupied observing the surrounding soldiers that it took me several hours to even consider looking at the shape I'm in. I know what I feel like. I've been aware of that since I gained consciousness. I work up the courage to look at my legs. Assessing the damage, I am relieved. My legs are nothing more than a slightly used pick-up truck. The true damage has been done to my arms and around my ribs. The pain hasn't eased much with the pain killers the mobile hospital can't afford. Gritting my teeth, I see my fellow commander who so bravely risked his life for me limping towards me.

Barely holding on to reality, I listen in horrible detail to what happened seconds after I lost consciousness. I'm told that the bomb our troop triggered blew us back with an immense amount of force that easily could've killed me.  Unfortunately, 25 of my hard-working soldiers were the true definition of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The impact killed them and I can't prevent what comes next.  Grieving wouldn't be a strong enough word to describe what I did for the following couple hours. More like hysterical sobbing. The tears pouring out of my eyes like a waterfall.

"Why did they have to die grandpa?" Jane's mood has completely shifted hearing her grandpa talk about his past. Even Joey had worked up a general concern for these people his grandpa knew who lost their lives in the war.

"They didn't have to die." Their grandpa frowned at the floor deeply lost in thought. "Maybe that was enough for today. I think I'll leave now. See you on Thursday." He smiled wearily and walked out the door without another word. Jane and Joey's eyes were glued to the door for a good five minutes hoping that any second their grandfather would prance through the door like a pony and be the same magical self he always used to be. 

Alone

Author's Note: I realized that real life experiences bring out the best writing. In this piece, my inspiration was from a trip to Chicago to visit my cousin who goes to school there. So in this piece I will also be working on Idea Development and Content. 

I watch as the selfish people stroll by happily whistling to a tune or teasing each other. They're oblivious to the fact I'm sitting on the ground at the side of a building with nothing but the clothes on my back and a plastic cup I grabbed from the streets. At night they go out to bars, or go bowling, and have a warm, gentle bed to climb into at night. They have a roof over their head, a loving family, the whole nine yards. What do I have? I don't know. Honestly, I don't even have a life. Just a depressing little world, population; me. The spoiled people who pass me take their luxuries for granted. I only wish I could do the same.

"I'm alone, on my own. And that's all I know. Ill be strong, I'll be wrong. But life goes on. I'm just a girl trying to find a place in this world." Quoted from a song written by Taylor Swift called "A Place In This World", that in an unintentional way expresses  the feeling of the poor people who are sleeping on the streets at night. In a way, the lyrics in the chorus explain the standpoint of children that live by themselves without a home to go to at night.

Recently, I was visiting my cousin, Kyle, who has an apartment in Chicago. We were discussing what it would be like for either one of us to have no home or nobody to find comfort in. He mentioned that every night, over 20,000 people sleep on the streets just in Chicago. That's one city. That's 20,000 people who aren't fortunate enough to have what we so mindlessly take for granted. This includes young children who have to tough it out on the streets, parents who can't afford to feed their children or themselves, and people who can't afford the proper health care they desperately need.

 

Sitting on the train that Saturday, watching the scenery below me, I truly realized how grateful I really should be. No more complaining. No more whining. I now realize how pathetic it is for me to argue little chores like taking care of the dishes, cleaning my guinea pigs cage, or picking up the living room. It's ridiculous the struggles some of these people are faced with everyday. Simple luxuries that we so ungratefully possess.

Understanding your good fortunes is almost a synonym for the purpose of an irony, or an ironic mode of literature. "At least my life's not that bad"