Fire

I walked quickly toward our home after making a sketch of Mona Lisa. I had a feeling that something was wrong since morning. I walked cautiously toward our gate, grabbed the padlock, and slipped my key in to open it. I went into our creaky house and looked around.

Nothing was amiss. The house was still a mess and my sister was wiping the counters. Well, that was amiss, but that’s not the point. I took out a pitcher of juice and took out a glass. “ Hey. Take out the trash,” my sister said. I was not in the mood to argue so I left my juice and did as she asked.

As I walked out with a trash bag in hand, I heard people screaming and running. At first I thought there was a riot. Then I saw a large cloud of smoke. “ What’s that pretty red cloud doing there?” I asked myself. Then I realized that that was a cloud of smoke from a fire nearby.

My body went stiff. I was unable to look away from the smoke cloud approaching our home. I swallowed and in a deadpan voice said, “ Look, a fire.” Immediately, my sister went out and looked at the sky. We immediately knelt down and said a prayer, asking for protection and guidance on what to do.

As I opened my eyes, I immediately felt relieved. I felt no fear. We calmly called our parents in case that would be our last moments alive and then packed up a few necessities in case we needed to evacuate. The fire was soon put out and life went on as usual.

Bummer

The day was a bummer. Nothing seemed to be going my way. The internet had gone haywire and I had a bunch of projects due. I needed to get a bunch of stuff but I was broke. I almost got run over by a car and I had forgotten my phone and wallet at home.

I felt like screaming my head off. I needed to walk in the sizzling heat to get home and beg my mom for money. I had about an hour to get home to type an essay and print out our research paper. I sighed knowing that fretting over things would just make everything worse. I picked up my bag and began to walk.

It was so bright outside that I had to squint. Sweat was dripping from off my skin and my shoe kept falling off my foot. I cursed the loose shoe as it fell into the small hole in the road. I didn’t have time to do all this. Quickly, I snatched my shoe from the hole and continued my walk.

I crossed the street slowly. Suddenly, I heard the screeching of tires and a chorus of horns honking all around me. A large bus stood beside me. A guy on a motorcycle screamed obscenities at me as he passed. I screamed obscenities back at him as I walked on.

Finally arriving at our shop, I walked through the doors only to be met by the horrifying sight of the attendant accidentally slicing his finger and splattering his blood all over the floor. I sat in front of the spare computer, still recovering from the shock. I quickly printed out the research papers and the essay. After getting some money from my mother, I quickly got on jeep and headed to school.

Everybody was screaming when I arrived. They were picking up their bags and leaving in a hurry. Papers were scattered all over the hallways. I began to panic, thinking that there were terrorists in our school. I thought that the terrorist threats had finally come.

I stood there, speechless. Suddenly, a classmate grabbed me by the shoulders, screeching into my face as she shook me. I stared on in confusion. Then I realized what she was saying. “ Classes are canceled!”

Jeepney Ride

It was almost noon when I decided to go to school. My sister had already gone ahead since her class started at nine in the morning. I put my keys in my pocket and left. The sun was hot and I began to sweat as I walked toward the main road. The main road was wide, wider than the streets in my hometown. Large trucks, jeepneys, cars and motorcycles whizzed past me as I stared, trembling.

The road seemed clear enough for me to cross and so I began walking slowly toward the other side. Suddenly, every car, jeepney and motorcycle began to honk their horns at me. The sound irritated my ears and terrified me beyond comprehension. I wanted to run quickly to the other side but I knew that if I did I would be run over by a truck. I held in my breath and continued to walk forward.

I reached the other side of the road and got into a jeepney that would pass by the school. The inside was packed with various people and I wondered if I would be able to sit down. The jeepney began to move as I walked toward the only available space for me. I was grateful to be able to sit although I was gradually slipping off the seat.

The inside of the jeepney was like an oven and everyone inside was sweating like pigs. The woman beside me looked as if a bucket of water and oil had been poured all over her sleeveless shirt. The fabric was sticking on her fat rolls. Suddenly, the jeepney stopped to let another passenger on. Everyone moved to accommodate the passenger and I was squished between the sweaty fat lady and a man who kept sneezing.

I could feel the woman’s sweaty armpits rub on my shoulder, coating it with a layer of yuck. My eyes widened in disgust.  I tried to move away but I was stuck. Suddenly the man beside me sneezed and I saw something fly out of his nose. I turned toward him slightly and flinched.

Hanging on his nose was a string of snot. He made no effort to wipe it off. Instead he held his handkerchief close to his nose and waited for the snot to fall. The jeep began to move faster and I could see the snot moving toward me. I tried to move away and felt the lady’s sweaty armpit against my shoulder once again.

There was no escape. I sat in the jeepney, sobbing inwardly for my misfortune. When I finally arrived at my destination I quickly got off the jeep and rubbed some hand sanitizer on my shoulder. I was shivering as I crossed the road toward the school. I vowed to myself to never ride a jeepney alone. EVER.

Evening Ghosts

The evening was cold and rainy as I sat in front of our PC. My eyes rapidly moved across the long line of images and letters. I could not believe that such a thing was even humanly possible. “How could anyone dream consciously?” I asked myself. It was practically impossible. The topic of lucid dreaming had piqued my interest so greatly that I began to obsess over facts regarding it.

                My curiosity was so great that I eventually decided to see for myself if the facts that I had read so far were true. I thought that if all went well I could dream about potatoes all night and if not then I could just dream normally. The instructions that I found in the internet told me that all I had to do was close my eyes and lay perfectly still until I slipped into the dreaming state. “That sounds easy enough,” I thought to myself. And so that night I turned off the lights, closed my eyes, and waited. Nothing happened.

                I wondered what I had done wrong. I lied perfectly still. I did everything perfectly. Night after night I tried yet there were no results. In the end I gave up.

                One night, I went to bed while I was very exhausted. I couldn’t even bring myself to move. I lay perfectly still, looking like a dead person. My breathing slowed and I waited for my mind to fill with nonsensical dreams. Unfortunately, that did not happen.

                I was aware that I had not fallen completely asleep. I knew that I was dreaming yet I could not seem to move or do anything I wished. I could see a small figure sitting at the end of my bed. It was a little boy of about five years old. He was staring at me and saying something that I could not understand.

                I should have been frightened. I should have panicked like a trapped bunny yet even though the boy was strange I felt calm. I tried to smile at him. I think he smiled back. Then I woke up.

                The bright light of morning was streaming into my window and I knew I was almost late for school. I tried to concentrate on preparing for school but I was unable to keep the little boy from bugging my mind. The little boy had even replaced my obsession with potatoes.  He annoyed me so much that I decided to try lucid dreaming once more.

                I smiled to myself as I slipped into a conscious dreaming state. I could see the little boy at the foot of my bed once again. He did not seem so dark and mysterious anymore. I could vaguely make out his facial features now. He had beautiful brown eyes and black hair. He was smiling sweetly at me.

                I smiled back as I tried to get up. I was still unable to move. I sighed and tried to ask him the question that had been bugging me all day. “Who are you?”

                He tried to reply but his voice would not be heard. “What?” I asked again. He frowned and tried again yet I heard nothing. He looked dejected and I felt guilty for asking him such a question. Then I heard a knock at my door and I went back to the world of the conscious.

                I tried to speak to that little boy every evening and, although we were unable to communicate in words, we became friends. Eventually I was able to move freely during my dreaming state and we played games and drew pictures. I began to develop a feeling of attachment to this nameless boy. I looked forward to seeing him in my dreams every evening and laughing quietly at his silliness. And then came the night that I dreaded most.

                The room was empty that night. I looked under my bed and inside my closet yet I could not find him. I called for him yet he never came. I was heartbroken. My little ghost boy was gone.

                In the morning I told my mother of the dreams I had been having and the little boy that I saw. She asked me to describe the little boy’s face. I saw the look of shock and then worry in her face as I told her. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Nothing,” she replied and she continued to cook breakfast.

                “He might have been your little brother,” she said under her breath. I laughed. I was the youngest child of the family. That was impossible. Impossible.

                I still wonder where that little boy had gone and why he had left my dreams so suddenly. I often wonder why my mother had told me he was my brother and why I wished to believe her. I often miss that little boy and pray to see him again. After all, he was my little ghost boy.

The Spuds

Anonymity is a beautiful thing. It gives you the ability to create mysteries, to hide behind masks, to be someone else. It can grant you the freedom to do, say, or think anything without having the fear of consequence chasing you like a rabid dog. It also provides a way for people to post hate and insult others. That isn’t very nice so if anyone wants to hate or insult me feel free to do so with your real names so I can hunt you down with an axe later. I’m just kidding.

Who would ever want to hate some potato girl anyway? That’s right. The potato girl is me. I have a variety of nicknames, some of which have totally no relation to my real name. My name is Hannah Emrys Abraham Sojor. You can call me Hamie, Hams, Han, Na, Melo, Chum-chum, Twee, Piggy, or whatever you can think of. I prefer to be called the potato girl though.

I have often been compared to various animals and things including pigs, rabbits, hamsters, puppies and hyenas. I don’t consider myself as fat so it may be hard to understand why I was compared to a pig. It may be because I was born in the year of the pig or it may be because I love bacon a lot. (with potatoes of course.) I guess people tend to see me as a bunny or a hamster because of my timid and shy nature around strangers. I am told that my face looks like a rabbit when I’m pleased. I highly doubt that.

My friends say I’m lazy and happy-go-lucky. Honestly I just seem that way because I have the urge to sleep every time I hear the teachers’ voices. Their words are like sleeping pills to the ears. Staying awake in class is like a boxing match where you have to try really hard to dodge the punches and keep yourself from getting knocked out.

It’s a wonder how I managed to graduate high school and get into a good university. I never studied and I always fell asleep in class. I got good grades regardless of my behavior. It may be because the teacher’s evil faces haunt me in my dreams and give me lectures there.

I like to doodle, to draw, to write, and to paint. I’m not as good as I want to be and I will never be satisfied in a million years. The only thing I am actually satisfied with is potatoes.

In high school, I came to be known as the potato girl among my friends because of my unnatural obsession with potatoes. I used to doodle potato creatures all over my notebooks. I randomly talked about potatoes just to start up a conversation with anyone and everyone. I loved to eat anything with potatoes. French fries, mashed potatoes, potato chips, and potato salad are just some of my favorite potato dishes.

There was a time that I made an animation of a flying potato just for fun. It wasn’t very good but I loved it to death. I sometimes search the internet for similar animations but, sadly, I find none. I found a potato song in the internet once and I’ve had the tune stuck in my head ever since.

Flying Potatooooo by ~chiihime-chan on deviantART

I want to give a shout out to all the Irish people out there who seem to love potatoes as much as I. The way they say the word potato is just so adorable. I often watch videos on Irish accents just to hear them say my favorite word.

I imagine your faces to be scrunched up in confusion by now. You must be wondering, “What’s wrong with this potato girl?”  Well, I’ll tell you what. Nothing, that’s what! That’s just how a potato girl works in a potato world so deal with it. I hope you will be able to forgive my ramblings and understand that your decision to read this is not my responsibility.

I am an artist, a writer, a student, and a nonsensical creature. Most of all I am a potato girl and I love it. Smile today and know that you are not the weirdest kid in the world and neither am I.

All hail the potato lovers and let us all spread the potato word. Show some love to all the lovely spuds out there and never be afraid to show your crazy side.

Till we MEAT again spudders.