Hi again … Um, this is just a picture of me, because this site is horribly boring without any photos … That was in 2008 of course, but I have changed … a lot. OK, imagine me as a lot taller and minus the fringe, and the hair has gotten longer …. Yeah, so it doesn’t look like me … I have better photos. OK, bye.
The holidays in Sydney have been amazing, and I bet there are a few more days of fun left. I’m sad to leave, but also excited and nervous at the same time about what unexpected surprises are going to pop up! As some of you, who read this site, probably know that I am leaving for grade six. Time flies by so quickly in life that you don’t have enough time to explain it all, every second your getting older. Before I knew it – I’m in grade six! It seems like yesterday when I was a little four year old starting prep, grasping hold of Mum’s leg, she ushered me into the classroom, and I was reluctant to go in, but then I looked around in my surroundings then cautiously walked into the classroom. My mum said goodbye to me, I wasn’t used to this. I was used to being with all my little friends in Pynjara. And this was Melbourne, and I was a Sydney girl. Well, now I’m in grade six, and next year I’ll be off to high school, imagine how confused I’ll be then.
Well, it has been a fine Summer, and I was ecstatic to learn that the mean, sickness machine called Gastroenteritis is NOT going around in Spring-Summer 2008!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hey, great, now I have to worry about this year! I hope its extinct. I remember last year, how paranoid I was about gastroenteritis, I kept using the instant hand wash which irritated the skin on my hands, some of the kids said that they were gross and why did that happen, and why did I have a bottle of liquid in my desk? I told them a big fat lie saying it was hand moister because I have bad allergies that affect my hands and makes them all sore, cracked, and dry, and I used to stay up till midnight, then get up two hours later and play on the computer because I was paranoid I’ll get up and you know … that “V” word.
Yesterday, was a fine day, with a scorching sun that pounded down on us. We went to the beach. The beach had massive waves, and the deep pool I went in was filthy. It wasn’t exactly filthy, it just had lots and lots of seaweed which covered it ubiquitously. I seaweed stench was wafting around too. There used to be quite a lot of algae growing on the ledges, but the mighty waves power was phenomenal and washed it all away. It even pushed me over to the baby pool, everyone was laughing because I was just kneeling down there and then a huge sudden wave came and I back flipped off and landed headfirst into the baby pool. Nice. Even the lifeguards were having a little laugh. Hmm, very funny. Not for me.
Today, my grandmother is sick with the flu. This morning I made some smoothies, I quite liked them, seeing that I’ve never made a smoothie before. It contained: Mango, Peaches, Raspberries, Blueberries, Banana, Ice Cubes, and Milk. I just sort of threw them all in. Later I might pop down to the shops and purchase a pineapple and watermelon. They say vanilla ice cream is ace with smoothies, I might try that as well.
I know, this is probably the most boring story you’ve ever read on this site. So what? I deleted most of my site, as you can see, and I’m hoping to change the template too, maybe to something blue, and not as ugly as that. (That horrid template was Dad’s choice). Well, good luck for this year and have a good Day!
The Lost Soldier:
Many people, except us, had moved on. Our lost corpses had been dumped in a small, claustrophobic crevasses; no name, nothing. We missed everything – the celebrations, the parties; we never got to tell our story to the new generation. Never. How would you feel being dumped in a cold dark grave? Especially when you’re thrusted into a small compartment with no headstone. How would your family know where to put the flowers? We, nameless soldiers, spirits hang around, watching our families at home, eating peacefully and seeing their fathers and sons return home from the traumatizing war. Seeing them throw celebrations for the return of their relatives. But some never return. While our body rots and deteriorates into nothing but a clump of ash, our bodies shake with fear on what will happen to us, what the afterlife will be like. I wish life was a time machine and could turn back, but who would want to turn back to a disastrous war when you hear ear splitting screams, blood curdling gun shots, and even worse … death?
We spirits hang around. When we return home, unknown we’re dead, we feel heart broken – families grieving, pets looking like they were dumped at the pound’s doorstep, and then you see the letter, that letter. The letter that tells you your loved one has died, and then that’s when it happens. When they bury your corpse, you can never return. Never again will your heart beat, never again will you feel the sensation of new born air soaking into your lungs, when you’re joyful and feel victory bubbling inside you, tingling your finger tips. But that is all left behind, that will never return. All you must do now is follow your heart and decide what to do. Let your spirit glide in the graveyard, watch your family all solemn, or look at all the returning soldiers, all proud and they tell their sons and daughters their destructive journeys.
When you leave your body, you feel awkward, like a stinging sensation, then a huge lump in your throat when you turn around and gaze at your corpse. Your eyes poise attentively to it – like it’s the ugliest thing you have ever seen. Your face scrunches up in disgust, and then a ghostly tear falls from your face. We always know we’ll be remembered, remembered as those who tried.
Several years later your spirit has left this world. Everything had been modernized. Houses, cars, buildings, clothes, everything, but we have been left untouched. Everything had changed around us, as quick as lightning bolts crackling in the sky. Then after years, you join your family again. You watch the world from a distance with them, just like modern families sit at the lounge and watch television, back in our days, we didn’t have entertainment. I remember me as a young soldier, representing my country with pride. I was as prouder than a Wedged Tailed Eagle grasping a fish with its talons. I was grasping my pride with my talons because I know we will never be forgotten, and I will always keep that saying in my ghostly mind…
Lest we forget …
By Juniper
(me)
I’m on fire. Just like a rocked zooming across the light blue cloudy sky. I shuffle around where the bag of cat food was. Then I sense something’s around me. Watching me. I crash to the ground from a heap of a bolt of weight. It’s Banjo. I run and I bite his ear! I zoom past my aponent. Then Willow comes. Banjo seeks a hiding place. I don’t hide. I climb up the scratching post. EW! The stench. The stench of Banjo hairball, the stench of Banjo poop! It stinks! Willow dives over to me. She pounces on me. I scratch her, she doesn’t care! Willow caries me up and away. After that day I found a homeless teddy bear. Here is the story of the headless teddy:
(Plus these were all taken the morning I was sick and fainted, just right after I woke up from sleeping! Then I took medicine and then these were taken!)
I wait here. Ready to pounce on whatever’s below me. There’s a shuffling sound. I watch on. I can’t see what’s below me with my big green eyes. What is it? My brother? A mouse? Could be anything. I hope it’s a mouse! My eyes a poised to the direction the shuffling’s coming from. My eyes aren’t darting around like usual. Usually when my eyes are poised like this my owner’s get mesmerized. I decide I should get up. I feel like tumbling down. My stomach, I just ate. I need to digest I don’t want to get indegestion. I find an itchy painful spot hear my ribs. I start licking away and accidently swallowed a tuft of hair. Oh well. Then the shuffling stops and I POUNCE on whatever’s down there. It was my brother, Harley. Whoops. We have a cat fight. I bite his ear. He claws my back. I smack his nose, he smacks mine. I try to run off; but he digs his class into my fur and hangs on. Suddenly I realise that I shouldn’t swallow my fur. Harley retreats and watches on. He hisses and claws the scratching post. I growl back then suddenly the big tuft of hair comes out. I meow. Oh no. Here comes the annoying little girl.
