(no subject)
MSDJFHJSDHFJKSD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So, for the pat day or so, I’ve had an ipod obsession. I saw them on display at American TV, and decided that I had some cash to get one. Well, fortunately, before I buy, I went online to research the topic. And, guess what, no matter what model I get, the stupid thing won’t work on any of the fifteen (exaggeration) computers we have. (my Dad collects machines and puts them back together, like Frankenstein, only less bloody.) I need a firewire and a ton of hard drive space plus a mac. Do any of you who have ipods have ways of dealing with the thing on old computers with windows 98? Tips? Or do I have to succumb and buy a new computer! LIFE IS NOT FAIR! I want to carry music around with me everywhere. And I want to pick random songs from my head, find them online, than keep them forever in my pocket! SDJFhSDHFJSDHFL!!!!!!!!
Enough chitchat,
Within five minutes after the sudden blackout, kitchen staff workers along with the custodians start handing out candles. There are literally pounds of tea lites, stuffed into large cardboard boxes. Handfuls are distributed among us, each person silently passing on the coin sized pieces of wax.
In the distant right hand corner of the hall, a flicker of light begins to grow. Starting from one individual, a flame is spreads between hands. The movement is silent, each of us waits as another will give us light by touching their lit candle wick to our dark ones.
Jacob’s hand brushes mine, and the warmth in my stomach is paired with the glow, as he lights my candle with his own. Without speaking, I turn from him and repeat the action to the boy on my left, a nervous looking kid of about eleven.
“Don’t worry,” I comfort him, “Everything will be all right.”
I pat him on the back and he gives a small smile.
“Students!” Comes a loud female voice, “We will be heading down to the dorm rooms together. Please keep your voices down and don’t run.”
Gradually, we all rise out of our seats. Plates of food, half filled glasses and lunch trays are ignored, only seen in their reflections of the candle light.
A stream of people floods through the tables and out to the hallway, down the marble floors, and walls that pour in shimmering dark gold.
No one has a face, only shadows. We resemble monastery monks, slowly carrying a casket to the tomb.
Our march is cut deep, a scream, quiet at first, than louder from the echoing walls, slits our ears as a knife would slit throats.
Candles fall from hands, someone pushes me from behind and I tumble into the boy in front of me. It’s the eleven year old from before. He gives a yelp as he falls and spills hot wax onto both of our arms. We sit on the floor, people dashing around us, yelling, and shoving. I notice that the boy is crying, holding his arms to his lips, trying to stop the pain.
“SHIT, ARE YOU OKAY?” I shake his shoulders and scream into his face. He just cries louder. Annoyed, I lift him to his feet and begin running with the crowd, while dragging the boy with me. “COME ON! Do you want to be trampled?”
Like a stampede of lemmings, the boys of Wimblelonston follow one another without a thought of the horror to come. Eventually, the group halts, forming a circle around some point of interest. I push my way through the whispering clump to find the students surrounded around what appears to be a large dead cow.
On closer inspection, I realize that this cow is in fact a person. Dressed in a light blue suit, her red hair a died redder with blood, Linda Morthen, the school hostess lies where she will never speak nor teach again.
warning, I did not have time to edit this yet!
So, for the pat day or so, I’ve had an ipod obsession. I saw them on display at American TV, and decided that I had some cash to get one. Well, fortunately, before I buy, I went online to research the topic. And, guess what, no matter what model I get, the stupid thing won’t work on any of the fifteen (exaggeration) computers we have. (my Dad collects machines and puts them back together, like Frankenstein, only less bloody.) I need a firewire and a ton of hard drive space plus a mac. Do any of you who have ipods have ways of dealing with the thing on old computers with windows 98? Tips? Or do I have to succumb and buy a new computer! LIFE IS NOT FAIR! I want to carry music around with me everywhere. And I want to pick random songs from my head, find them online, than keep them forever in my pocket! SDJFhSDHFJSDHFL!!!!!!!!
Enough chitchat,
Within five minutes after the sudden blackout, kitchen staff workers along with the custodians start handing out candles. There are literally pounds of tea lites, stuffed into large cardboard boxes. Handfuls are distributed among us, each person silently passing on the coin sized pieces of wax.
In the distant right hand corner of the hall, a flicker of light begins to grow. Starting from one individual, a flame is spreads between hands. The movement is silent, each of us waits as another will give us light by touching their lit candle wick to our dark ones.
Jacob’s hand brushes mine, and the warmth in my stomach is paired with the glow, as he lights my candle with his own. Without speaking, I turn from him and repeat the action to the boy on my left, a nervous looking kid of about eleven.
“Don’t worry,” I comfort him, “Everything will be all right.”
I pat him on the back and he gives a small smile.
“Students!” Comes a loud female voice, “We will be heading down to the dorm rooms together. Please keep your voices down and don’t run.”
Gradually, we all rise out of our seats. Plates of food, half filled glasses and lunch trays are ignored, only seen in their reflections of the candle light.
A stream of people floods through the tables and out to the hallway, down the marble floors, and walls that pour in shimmering dark gold.
No one has a face, only shadows. We resemble monastery monks, slowly carrying a casket to the tomb.
Our march is cut deep, a scream, quiet at first, than louder from the echoing walls, slits our ears as a knife would slit throats.
Candles fall from hands, someone pushes me from behind and I tumble into the boy in front of me. It’s the eleven year old from before. He gives a yelp as he falls and spills hot wax onto both of our arms. We sit on the floor, people dashing around us, yelling, and shoving. I notice that the boy is crying, holding his arms to his lips, trying to stop the pain.
“SHIT, ARE YOU OKAY?” I shake his shoulders and scream into his face. He just cries louder. Annoyed, I lift him to his feet and begin running with the crowd, while dragging the boy with me. “COME ON! Do you want to be trampled?”
Like a stampede of lemmings, the boys of Wimblelonston follow one another without a thought of the horror to come. Eventually, the group halts, forming a circle around some point of interest. I push my way through the whispering clump to find the students surrounded around what appears to be a large dead cow.
On closer inspection, I realize that this cow is in fact a person. Dressed in a light blue suit, her red hair a died redder with blood, Linda Morthen, the school hostess lies where she will never speak nor teach again.
warning, I did not have time to edit this yet!