The Water of Bodies, part 1

9/29/12

   Livia and her mother walked down the windy path strewn with crumbling orange and red leaves.  They had been on a morning hike, hoping to strengthen their cardiovascular systems; or at least, that is what her mother wanted.
   Livia was 14 years old, but anyone that saw her would have told you she was 17 or 18.  Her hair, tied up in a bun was frayed in spots, her clothing was small, and tight for her tall frame.  She had the looks of someone much older than herself.
   The path branched off into two directions, and neither remembered to bring a map.  They looked at each other, concerned, and separated, promising to run right back to the fork when they figured out which way to go.  Pulling out her cell phone and putting it on the highest ring setting, Livia took the path to the left. 
   Distracted with her phone, she wandered farther than she expected to go, and decided she should go back to see if her mother's path had been any better.  She turned around and started to walk back. Perhaps because she hadn't been paying close attention on the way out or maybe because she was getting a little nervous and walking faster and faster, the route back to the fork didn't seem to take nearly as long.  Leaning over with her hands on her knees to catch her breath, she began to think it odd her mother had not returned to the fork.  As she rose to get a better look around, her heart stopped. This was not the fork where she left her mother.  Here the path forked into three paths instead of two.  She took her cell phone out of her pocket again, her hands trembling slightly as she dialed her mother's number.  No reception.
   She ripped a piece of her jacket and tied it to a branch to remember where she had been and took the path farthest to the left, hoping to circle back toward her mother.
   "Mom?" she called.
   No answer.
   "MOM?" she called again.
   Nothing.
   She was walking fast now, almost jogging.  Another fork.  And now there were four paths.  She tied another piece of her jacket to the branch of the tree closest to the left most path and noticed that someone else had the same idea.  There was a red piece of fabric on the branch next to it, contrasting her blue strip.
   "Hello?" she called out, hoping someone would find her.
   Fog started rolling in, and the further she walked, the harder it was to see.  She reached another fork. and there were four strips of cloth on the tree close to the middle path.  One red matching the last, a dull olive-green strip that had obviously been from a t-shirt, a beige one that could have been pink at one time, and a polka-dot one, being the newest looking one of them all.
   Slightly panicked now, she decided to follow that path, for it seemed others had done the same.  She tied her strip and ran.
   "Hello?" she called, again.
   Again, there was no one to answer her. 
   She reached the end of the path, at a full sprint now, trying desperately not to fall over roots and rocks, the fog is completely consuming her the closer she ran to the end.  She can see more light as she reaches those last few steps before hearing crunching and seeing the ground below her toppling over. She skids to a halt as the first few inches of ground pummel over the edge of a cliff.  She stepped back, every foot down made more ground collapse below her.  She started to feel like an elephant treading on a balloon.  Finally she reached sturdy ground.  She was completely lost.  As she turned around, time slowed to a crawl. Through the fog, a face slowly emerged.  A woman with a polka-dot sweater, teeth bared, arms outstretched, came out of the fog.   Before Livia could utter a sound, the woman had launched her off of the cliff.
   The surface of the water below crushed the air from her lungs.  Deeper and deeper she sank, stars dancing around her eyes.  Summoning every ounce of strength and will, she struggled to the surface, gasping moist air and icy water.  Coughing and desperately trying to pull in more air than water, a hand brushed against her leg and she gasped again, sucking in a big gulp of the nasty water and slipping back beneath the surface.  There were other people sinking and floating around her.  Only, they weren't alive.
   She reemerged from the surface and coughed out a scream, swallowing a big gulp of the nasty water.  She looked down below.  There were dozens of bodies below her.  She recognized the red coat from the strip that was in the branch, and gasped, disgusted.  She had been lured, and, apparently, so had dozens of other girls.
  

Buce

Sniff, sniff.
Looking around.
What was that?
Stand guard.
Snort.
Growl.
Chase.
Sniff, sniff. 
Where'd you go?
Oh look, a squirrel!
Human.
Sniff.
Lick, lick, lick.
Sniff.
Stare.
Snap.
Why are you crying?
I'm sorry.
Human?
Come back.
Wait, I don't want to go to bed.
Chase me.
Come back here.
Love me!

Don't forget about my alien contest!

There are more details on the Contest Page of my website!  Make sure to check it out!

YES, a Picture, Drawing, Poem, Photograph, Creation, or Model will work!  Be creative and submit soon!

Send your final product to sarahakaider@gmail.com

If it is a creation, make sure to photograph it for your submission.  If taking a picture of your creation is difficult, email me and we will work out a way to get somebody to photograph it for you, or I will let you send it to me, and I will photograph it myself.  (Yes, you will get it back, if you wish.)

I am looking forward to entries! :D

Forensics and its Flies

Thanks to Forensics
whenever I see a fly,
I cringe away from it, yelling,
"I'm still alive!!!"

By Sarah A. Kaider

The Girl With Peacock Feathers In Her Hair

   Ava sat down on the bench after a long run and cried.  It was cold, windy and rainy, but she cared not.  People passed by with umbrellas and gave her long cold stares.  Nobody offered to share.
   She wiped her eyes with a sigh, shivering and blubbering, but she couldn't force herself to get up.  The weight of the world was weighing down on her.  She put her face back in her arms and continued to sob.
   "Hey," said a voice near her, and she defensively jumped up, ready to run again.  When she caught a glimpse of the guy that had spoken to her, she realized that he was just a passerby.  She relaxed a bit.  "Are you alright?" he asked.
   "I'm alright," she said, pulling on a happy face, but it was all too apparent that it was fake.
   "Right," he said, slipping into the bench next to her, making a squishing sound as the rubber from his coat rubbed against the wet wood.
   Ava looked at the stranger, worrisome, hoping that he wouldn't be of any harm to her.  He was around her age, young, about 17 or 18, his chocolate brown hair popping out of his hood in places.  She knew him from somewhere. 
   "Why are you crying?" he asked, handing her the umbrella that he insisted he did not need, due to his coat.
   She covered her head with the umbrella and sighed, "A group of boys were chasing me.  I was around the Lasker Pool and Rink, and they..."
   She couldn't continue.  She was traumatized.  He put his arm around her shoulder, trying to comfort her, and coax her to continue.
   "They didn't like my hair," she gestured to the now tangled brown mess on her head with soaking wet peacock feathers running through.  "So they chased me down to the Lock, and on the way, one of them grabbed me and pulled me to the ground.  He was a big guy, vicious and rude, and when he landed on me, my leg made a crunching sound.  I think it is broken."
   The boy's face was neutral, though he had anger rising in his mind. He helped her turn in the bench and held her leg up on his lap for elevation.  Her pants were too tight around the leg to take a look at, so after asking for permission, he cut away at the pant leg with his pocket knife up a little bit past where she said her leg was hurting the most.  Her leg was swollen, and purpling around the area she complained about most.  When asked to bend her leg, it would not move, and she began to cry some more.
   "Definitely broken," he said, and pulled out his cell phone.  He called the ambulance, and they promised to meet him in a matter of minutes.  "How did you get here?  How did you get away?" he asked her.
   "I hit the guy that knocked me down, and rolled out of arms reach from all of them trying to attack me at once.  I grabbed the trunk of a tree to pull myself up, and continued to run for it..."
   "On this leg?" he asked, shocked.
   She nodded, "It wasn't easy."
   "Then what?" he asked.
   "They chased me to the lock, where a lot of hikers were, and I weaved through the hikers and through the wooded area away from the path.  They weren't able to catch up, and I evaded them somewhere along.  But they haven't found me yet."
   "Nor will I allow them to." His eyes flashed with anger.
   She still couldn't figure where she knew him from.  All she knew was that this stranger was completely compassionate and understanding.
   "You still haven't told me, stranger," she said with a weak smile as a shot of pain rushed up her leg, "what your name is."
   His smile turned to a neutral face again.  "You don't remember me?"
   She felt bad, "No, I recognize you, but I cannot figure out who you are."
   "You must have hit your head as well.  Do you remember anything other than what just happened?"
   "I remember that I really liked these feathers," she admitted.
   "You don't remember anything else?" he said, starting to frown.
   "No, not especi---"
   "Well if it isn' our little bird!" a voice called from behind the trees.
   A group of boys emerged from the wooded area.
   "Thought you could escape us, didn't you?" said another boy with deep red hair.
   "Knock it off, boys," Ava's stranger called, getting up and stepping in front of her.
   "Look, boys.  Birdie has herself a little sparrow," the mousy looking boy said.
   Ava's stranger stepped closer to them.  "Her name is not Birdie, and you have no business playing with her like you have been."
   "Why, is the sparrow jealous?"
   Ava's stranger socked the guy in the neck.  A huge fight emerged, and she realized that one of the members of the gang had been missing.  The Vicious One. 
   Her stranger had been really good at fighting them all, until the mouse jumped on his back. They had him on the ground, one boy stomped him in the stomach, another kicked him in the face, someone was punching him in the side.
   "Stop it!" She shrieked.
   "Fly away, Birdie," a boy taunted her, "fly away with those wings of yours."
   "Leave him alone!" she cried.
   "Fly away," her stranger called to her, "Leave!  Go somewhere safe!"
   She started to get up and turned toward the opposite direction.  The Vicious One was right behind her, smiling in her face.  She froze as he continued to stare her on.  He laughed, and then moved to the group of boys.  She turned back to them to see the boys back up and The Vicious One moved toward her stranger. She became frightened at the thought of her only hope being killed. 
   The first punch hit her stranger and she could not bare it.  Everything was slowly coming back, her name was Ava, she lived in New York, she had been visiting the Rink, she was a junior in high school, her best friend was Mariyam, and she was currently dating...
   "James!!!" her cry echoed around the woods.
  She had a sudden adrenaline rush, got up and ran toward The Vicious One and scissor-kicked him in the face, she stumbled on her landing and grabbed the red-head that charged next and rammed him into the mousy kid.  One by one she fought them all, she knew she couldn't harm them, but that she could hold them off.
   Where is my ambulance? She thought, still favoring her left leg.
   The Vicious One came back and hit her in the gut, but she managed to sweep him when she fell and punched him continually in the face.
   The sirens echoed across the land and the boys were getting nervous.  All of them ran except for The Vicious One and the mousy one.  Ava had the mouse in a head lock between her legs and wrestled against The Vicious One.
   "WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?" cried the man from the ambulance crew.
   "You're late," she said, crying and letting go of the boys, hopping to her love, James, who was left unconscious trying to save her, still favoring her left leg as the idiot boys were cuffed by the police that arrived shortly after, and the ambulance crew lifted James onto the stretcher, and then her.

I Am A Beast- Freestyle Poem

I Am A Beast - Freestyle Poem
By Sarah A. Kaider
9/19/12

"I am a fiesty beast
orange and black.
I run 60 mph at least,
giving my prey a heart attack.

Some think me cute.
Some think me evil.
I may be a brute,
but at least I'm no weevil.

My fur stands up on ends,
making me look like a king.
It's no wonder I haven't any friends
when all I like is biting.

I lunge for my prey
missing by an inch,
then I grab him and play
but his stench makes me cringe.

I sound like a tiger, don't I?
Well, unfortunately, I'm not.
I sink down with a sigh.
Being a cat isn't nearly as hot."

Why My Dog Hates The Rain

Albus, my little ori-pei (a mix between shar-pei and pug), is a very silly pup.  Whenever I try to take him outside in the rain, he whimpers and fights me.  I will be outside the garage pulling him, and he will be inside pulling against me.  It is like playing tug of war, but with his poor little neck. 

This raises me to the question: Why does my dog hate the rain?

When I think about it, I hate it when my jeans or clothing gets wet.  If I am wearing clothing, other than a bathing suit, and they get wet, I cannot stand to wear them.  Maybe it is the same for Buce.  Maybe he hates to get his fur wet.

But dogs are supposed to love water!  I am pretty sure my dog is not a cat, which, if he were, it would have made more sense.  Dogs swim and shake water off of their backs.  While my puppy is good at shaking the water off of his back, he hasn't seemed like the type of pup that would ever swim.

I have come to the conclusion that he does not like to get his paws wet.  He gets mad whenever he put his paw "accidentally" into his water bowl.  Maybe he doesn't like the rain because of puddles, or walking on wet pavement.  Well, I am still uncertain, because I am not a dog psychologist.

Love Cinquain

                                                             My Love
                                                      within the embrace
                                            brings upon an utmost amount of joy
                                                as you slowly fall for me too
                                                            My Heart

                                                    By Sarah A. Kaider
                                                           9/27/12

"Stay Away From My Pants!"

So, my mom just got home and handed me a new pair of gorgeous light blue jeans, and a pretty gray and blue tank top.  My dog, Albus, who is notorious for chewing things up, lately, started sniffing my new pair of jeans.

"STAY AWAY FROM MY PANTS!" I yelled in a baby voice to my puppy, because no matter how mad he makes me, I will always show him affection.

My dad smirked and said to my mother, "And that is how I know I won't have to worry about her dating."

My mother, agreeing, smirked back and said, "And hopefully, she'll say it in that voice."

Sarah A. Kaider's Topics of the Day

In case you all have not been checking my website daily--- which I am sure you do, because how else would you have found my Blogspot account?--- you may not already know what my "Topic of the Day" is or what that even means.

Let me clarify.  Topic of the Day is a stimulation based on a Creative Writing course that I have been taking.  For my Topic of the Day, I list a topic which could be a word or two, a quote, a phrase, or a picture.  For those of you like myself that like to write, Sarah A. Kaider's "Topic of the Day" is designed to stimulate your mind and give you inspiration for the day. 

When my Topic of the Day is Moist Cabbage, which it is today--- Yes, I am aware that moist cabbage is not the most pleasant thing to think of, but I assure you the idea was not mine to begin with.  You can blame my friend, Jake, for that one---  the idea is to write for five minutes (or longer for my veteran writers) about said Topic. 

I know that today's example is not all that great of a topic, but keep in mind that inspiration can come from strange places, and that hating "Moist Cabbage" may just be your next big poem. 

The other day, my topic was "Stalking Elephants"; which, if you were wondering, also came from Jake.  Now, a couple of my friends thought that "Stalking Elephants" may just about be the weirdest thing they have ever heard, and an absolute bonkers topic.  Then, my friends started getting into a debate on whether the elephants were stalking us, or we were stalking the elephants.  Which I noticed, stimulated a lot of thought and interesting opinions from them.  Then, my friend, Jake, noticed that after our friend, Kathryn, asked if the elephants were stalking us, he envisioned an elephant standing on tip-toe with shades on and creeping behind him.  How is that not creative?

So I assure you, as odd or pleasant as my topics may seem, they definitely stimulate your mind to think something; whether positive or negative is up to you.

I will be posting a topic every single day on both my website under the tab News and Topic of the Day, and on my Facebook page in an album called "Topic of the Day."

Keep checking back, and try reflecting on these topics for, at the bare minimum, five minutes a day.  It will not kill you, and may in fact be good for your mind.  After writing a bunch of stories, poems, etc. based on these topics, look back on them from time to time when you need inspiration.  Especially if you are like me, constantly writing stories and getting the writer's curse: Writer's Block.

Who knows, maybe your writing will improve.  Maybe you will start liking to write if you haven't before.  Or, maybe, just maybe, you might like moist cabbage.

~Sarah A. Kaider~
9/27/12

First Things First

Hello Everybody!

I just wanted to let you know that I have expanded my horizons from my website blog to Blogger!

I know, SHOCKING!

Anyways, I know you all would love to know whether I will still be using my website.  Well, the answer is thus:  OF COURSE!  But now you have two places to look for information about me!  Isn't that exciting?  Yes? No? Maybe?  Well, I should assume so, seeing as you were curious enough to find this.

Anyways, my website is www.sarahakaider.weebly.com if you wish to find me there, too, in case you're a new follower, in which case, YAY!
I am also on Twitter: @sarah_a_kaider
and Tumblr: sarahakaider
and Instagram: sarahakaider
And Facebook: www.facebook.com/SarahAKaider

Lots of love,
Sarah A. Kaider