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High School Journalism

writing is a way of life

10/15/05 08:19 pm - _stefalie_said_ - Animal Cruelty Speech

Okay, so before you open this, be aware that it is a persuasive speech about animal cruelty that I wrote for English. It is somewhat graphic, and I toned down so much of this to even say in class... Don't read it if you don't want to hear it.
kinda graphic, don't know who will want to read thisCollapse )

10/9/05 10:40 pm - emilybriskey - yet another creative writing story

Let go

Through a haze of dreams I heard the faint whisper of his voice. The words formed. They spoke of me, “I can't believe I'm so lucky, you're the best thing that has ever happened to me, you are my best friend." Finally, my favorite came, "I love you."
No one can even imagine what that feels like to be loved. Some think they can, but in reality they haven't even the slightest idea how important what I have is. Yes, he loved me. It's not that silly high school love bullshit either, believe me, I had been there, done that. This was real.
I felt a kiss on the forehead and then I felt him get out of bed. It must have been morning already. He had now gone to work. We had been dating since early high school and living together since we started college. Now here we were, seniors in college and ready to officially start our life together.
The phone rang.
"Hello," I mumbled.
"Not awake yet Lucy?" Brittany giggled from the other line.
Brittany had been my best friend since I was about eight years old. We usually went out for drinks on Friday nights, got pretty trashed and played poker with the guys after, but I had skipped out last night. Evan was making me dinner and I was not about to break that for the ordinary.
"Where the hell were you last night, whore?"
"I had...I had a thing and you know, I was busy and stuff."
"I bet you were...hahaha"
We both laughed for a few minutes and decided to get coffee. There we talked about the normal everyday bullshit. Work, school, weekend plans. Then she blurted it out.
"Greg is leaving me."
She had hidden it well, but I knew the whole time something was terribly wrong. Her laughter turned to tears and her face wrinkled up as she sobbed on my shoulder and I attempted to be the friend she needed. I was always expected to be and didn’t mind playing the part.
Brittany and Greg had gotten married right after high school; we all thought if anyone had hope in this world for love it was them. Hell, I stood up as the maid of honor in their wedding, I mean, I spent some serious time with these people, and they were in love, they were so in love. Confused as ever, I told her I was here for her.
Brittany cried, "I'm beginning to feel sick. I’ll call you later."
"I love you Britt," I told her gently
She cried harder.
Evan came through the door and I immediately blurted out the horrifying news. I'm horrible with gossip. People need to stop telling me shit.
"Greg and Brittany are separating," I told him sadly.
"I know."
"How do you know?"
There was a long silence.
"How do you know Evan?
"I suggested it Luce."
"What the hell is wrong with you? You don't throw away love Evan; you can't just throw away something like that. It isn't like god damn trash."
I was now in tears.
"Lucy, let me take you out to dinner, we can talk, I'll explain Greg's situation."
"Fine," I said softly.
I put on my best black dress pulled up my elbow length blonde hair into a cute French twist and put on the red lipstick. Evan couldn't resist the red lipstick, not even if he tried. I widened my sky blue eyes and I coated my long lashes with the blackest shade of mascara I had ever gotten my hands on. Why I was getting so dolled up I didn’t know, but Evan and I solemnly went out so I figured I might as well embrace the occasion.
When I finished getting ready I saw that Evan was gone but he had left a note.
"Meet me at our place at 5:30. I'll be waiting for you angel. xo Evan," it read.
I knew exactly what he was talking about. "Our Place" was actually a number of places. In high school before either of us could drive there was a small pizza place down the street from his house. We attended cheap dates there then trips to the cinema on the other side of the road. About half a mile was Huntington Beach, surf city. How we loved that innocent California high school love. It was the kind of love Midwestern Americans had so envied. I had that love, at 17. Evan was my first, my first everything. I couldn't have asked for a better life partner.
Caught up in old memories I got into my explorer and drove to our place. I could feel the cool breeze blowing off the near by Pacific Ocean and I smiled at the scent of the salty air. I parked my jeep and walked into the pizza joint.
Waiting with a red rose I saw Evan at "our table". I smiled and walked to him. We talked about the weather and work, much like Brittany and I had earlier discussed. I didn’t dare ask about Greg, I knew that would be the last thing we talked about; I knew that would be saved for the beach. After small talk we caught a 7:30 show at the theater. It was corny and boring, it really reminded me of high school. Finally the beach came. I loved the beach. The soft caressing howl of the waves reminded me of lovers for the first time, the first winter snowfall, and little children holding hands. It mainly made me think of any beginning. I loved the waves.
Evan took my hand and began to sigh repetitively. He finally spoke.
"Greg’s not leaving Brittany because he doesn't love her. He's leaving because he has to. He is joining the army and going to war," Evan explained.
"Why didn’t he tell her?"
"He will."
Why do you know before she does?"
"Because we are going together."
I didn’t speak for a few minutes. Could this be real? Is he leaving me too? All I could think of at the time was those silly over dramatized love stories. The man goes off to war, comes back to his sweetheart who patiently has been waiting four years for his return or some bullshit. On the other hand I thought of the other ending. Dear wifey or girlfriend is sitting on a porch when a man in uniform hand delivers a letter explaining that the only happiness the poor dear has found in life has now been wiped form the face of the earth. I hated both of the endings, so classic, so unoriginal. Artists like me need vision. I imagined how I would await Evans return home and then I finally snapped back into reality.
"So why can't they stay together?" I finally blurted out in tears.
"Greg is planning on strictly combat missions. He isn't confident that he will stay alive. He told me he would rather leave seeing Brittany in love with someone else. That way if he dies, she'll remain happy."
"That’s bullshit and you know it Evan," I snidely replied.
"I'm coming back to you baby, I promise."
That was all he said. After that he held me and we drove home. After continuous shots of faithful old Jack Daniels we made love and passed out in each other’s arms. Damnit I loved him.
The next six months past quickly, Evan and I spend the evenings together and talked about how when he returns we're going to start a family and get a dog, a real house. We graduated college and I knew that it wouldn’t be long until I was alone for a little while.
The day he left it was raining, it felt like all of Huntington Beach was crying. Evan was leaving. He kissed me goodbye and said he would see me soon but it didn’t ease my tears. After exchanging "I love yous" Greg and him boarded the plane. I didn’t see them off because I was so sure they would be back so soon that I knew I would be watching them fly back in no time. I remembered that horribly over used quote. "If you love someone you have to let them go, if they come back than they are yours forever, but if they don’t return, they were never really yours to begin with." Fuck that shit. Evan was mine. He always was mine and he always would be mine.
A year past. Occasional letters came within the first 3 or 4 months but ceased after that. Somehow in my heart I prayed Evan was alive. Brittany and Jon her new boyfriend had been spending endless hours together since before Greg flew away. Inconsiderate bitch was the only term now available for Britt. Sure she was fun to get drunk with but I think deep down she knew we had nothing left. We would never be friends again. It wasn't the same without Evan and Greg.
Six days later a military jeep pulled into the drive. Call me crazy but I thought it was Evan. I ran outside to greet him but it was another man.
"Lucy Johnson?" he asked sympathetically.
"Evan is dead," I said blankly.
"Yes. We were ambushed and there were just too many of them."
I didn’t reply. It was pointless. My worst fear had come true and I now had nothing to look forward. I wasn't Brittany. There would never be another "Evan and I". He was it for me. I was it for him.
I took a walk to our spot on the beach but decided to pass it. Two miles down there was an amazing view from a small mountaintop. I decided to hike it and collect my thoughts on the way.
Through rattlesnake infested grass I climbed and climbed until I had reached my destiny. I felt rather narcissistic here; enjoying this fabulous view while Evan was only viewing the back of a coffin through closed eyes six feet under the earth. Hell. I thought about that quote again.
"Let go." I murmured.
The waves whispered me a sweet lullaby as night fell. I had been up there all night and I still only thought about the saying. Then I thought about all the things the waves reminded me of. All of Evan and my first came back to my mind. Our first date, kiss, drink, the first time we touched, the first time we made love, the first time he told me he loved me, moving in together, talking about baby names for the future, wedding party plans, everything. Evan was my everything. Evan was now dead. As far as I was concerned so was I. I staggered back and then ran forward at full speed hurdling over the cliff edges and drifted down to the foam-coated rocks below.

"If you love someone you have to let them go, if they come back than they are yours forever, but if they don’t return, they were never really yours to begin with."
The End

10/1/05 03:48 pm - _stefalie_said_ - Hi. New year equals more newspaper stories.

So, I promised a few pieces I had done. Our issue was going to be an 8 page layout that would have come out last Friday, but due to the fact that only Tawana and I are the only two that know how to do the layouts, and that the new staff members aren't quite as prepared to get things done quicker, we are postponing it to sending it to the printers next Friday, the last day of Homecoming week. Instead of an 8 page, it will be 12 pages. I am happy. This time Tawana and I are doing basically everything by ourselves though, so if there are mistakes I will be pissed.
Corpse Bride Review. Issue 1Collapse )

InterquestCollapse )

These are only two, and I have about 5 articles in the issue.

9/28/05 03:13 pm - emilybriskey - this has nothing to do with my publication, its just something i thought you would enjoy.

Emily Briskey
Creative Writing
2nd hour

His Cold Steel Blade
"I hate you," Lacey whispered tearfully through her bedroom door after slamming it furiously. max was the only person in the whole world that understood Lacey and she was forbidded to see him. Not only was he her boyfriend of two years, but he was also her life long best friend.
Lacey's life so far has been rough. when she was eight years old, medical examiners determined that she was epileptic. Her epilepsy caused her to have nviolent seizures, serious memory lapses, and horible, vivid flashbacks of past traumatic experiences. Aside from the copious horrors of her disorder, lacey had lived her life under the command of her over bearing, control freak father for as long as she can remember. She was now eighteen years old and still under her father's command. Lacey essenially had no one. She was forbidded to see Max and her mother was violently murdered years ago, dead by her father's own hand.
She was only six at the time, not even old enough to understand the reality of what took place. Lacey hates to remember, but no matter what.... she always remembers. She closes her eyes. She bites her lip. She remembers...
Mom had just picked up Lacey from kindergarten at Grovedale Elementary. When they had approached the front door Lacey noticed that all of the lights were off. Daddy's truck was in the driveway but Daddy was nowhere in sight. Then, there he was, a potent smell of whiskey on his breath and a steel bladed kitchen knife in his hand.
Lacey set down her Sailor Moon Lunchbox. She hears mommy yell, "Lacey, go up stairs and watch cartoons baby, mommy and daddy need to talk." over the crashing sounds of pots and pans and the drowning television Lacey hears daddy yell, "You were with him again, huh? You stupid whore. Lying in his arms, and in his bed. You were there right before you picked up that little shit."
Lacey began to cry. She knew that daddy was talking about her. She didn’t understand why daddy hated her. She just knew that he did.
Lacey crept down the stairs and watched from behind the white-railed bars. "What was happening in the kitchen?" Lacey wondered.
Mommy began to explain, “You’re crazy John! You know I would never hur..." she was cut off by a blow to the face. Daddy's fist hit her so hard that her head swung so her red hair instantly fell over her tearful eyes.
"MOMMY!!!" Lacey screamed until her voice box started cracking as daddy carved mommy's fair skin with the kitchen knife. Mommy cried, but said nothing. After several stabs mommy stopped crying. Mommy stopped moving. Mommy stopped living.
Lacey shook her head in dismay after realizing she had dozed off. A single teardrop from her left eye drifted down and splashed on to her advanced chemistry homework. She looked at the clock and realized that it was already three AM. "Time for bed," Lacey said to herself. She crawled under her ellow conforter and setteled herself between the warm flannel sheets.
She loved fall. She loved the feeling of making her room so freezing cold that she felt she needed to cuddle herself under mounds of soft, warm blankets. She closed her eyes but couldnt sleep. The images in her mind from her previous thoughts gave her nightmares. "Not tonight," she whispered, "let me sleep tonight."
Just then Lacey heard a tap on her window. In an instant she had risen from her bed and flipped the light switch on. Lacey heard another tap and saw Max standing outside. She let him in and he kissed her so softly and gently that she felt as if she was on a cloud.
"You can't be here. You know what he will do if he catches you," Lacey exclaimed.
"I don’t care. I love you Lacey. Let me take you away from all of this, let me...save you, Lacey," he began. "We need to tell the authorities what happened to your mother."
Lacey's blue eyes welled up with tears. "I can't," she said. "They'll never listen, they never listened before. You would think someone would have listened though, a terrified little girl trying to explain exactly how her mother dissapeared....but no one listened."
Just then, it happened again. Lacey had gone under Epileptic seizure attack and there was nothing Max could do but watch her. She convulsed as her bones twisted and her facial expressions showed great pain. Emerging form the kitchen, dad burst in and found Max kneeling beside her.
"Bastard!" he screamed. "I told you to stay away from Lacey," he pulled out a kitchen knife from behind his back. "I told you what I could do."
Though Lacey's body had still been quaking, she regained consciousness of her mind. She saw her father. She saw Max. She saw the knife. Dad raised the weapon high above Max's kneeling body as Lacey asked herself, "I wonder if that is the same knife."
She closes her eyes. Max screams. Lacey whispers, "I Love you." Lacey remembers.

9/26/05 11:26 am - _stefalie_said_

Also, I need an AD design idea for our school library.
They want it to be very creative and stand out in the paper.
Any ides?

9/26/05 11:25 am - _stefalie_said_ - Back again

Hey. At HCHS we are about to publish our first issue of The Wingspan of this year, and we hope it is to be better than last year's. Last we we had just brought back The Wingspn from a hiatus of a few years with an all new staff and supervisor. We had allot of kinks to work out, but this year 2 of the staff members are back (along with many new members who some are quite good), a friend and myself, along with a new supervisor that has actually had Newspaper experience.
I have several articles in this issue alone (and when I get tham all approved i will begin posting them for you), and I hope that starting next issue I am the main photographer for The Wingspan, seeing as my major interest has sidetracked a bit over into photojournalism...

P.S. Emily, I will send you a copy of our paper when it comes out. i hope you like it!

8/6/05 12:31 pm - emilybriskey

Last week I spent five days at Michigan state for the Michingan Interscholastic Press Association's summer journalism workshop. it was truely incredible. I went with my Editor in Chief Nikki as this years photographer and photo editor so that is exciting for me. I really think we are going to have a great paper this year. As soon as school starts I'll be posting all of my stories from EVERY addition of The Legend.

hope you are all enjoying your summer.

6/17/05 07:19 pm - voice1 - hurray!

finally, an answer! if you read my latest (and only) entry, you will all understand the excitment. this is exactly what i have been hoping for! i sure hope you all don't mind, but i intend to use this journal big time. all the comments you can muster are welcome! in fact, i know just how to get this started. not to jump in with both feet, but i have something i just wrote that i've been dieing for some imput on. it might be stupid, i'm not sure, but this is the possible first chapter to a rather interesting story i'm thinking about.

A man dressed in all white entered a spotless room, containing nothing but a cleared table in the center. The man carried a small dish containing a clear substance, and gently placed it on the table. He stepped back and looked expectantly at the two other men standing nearby.
The man cleared his throat uncertainly, then said uncomfortably, “I believe you’ll find everything in order here. I do hope this is what you had in mind.” He looked at the dish and back to the men, who remained silent. Then one man wearing spectacles stepped forward and studied the still liquid.
“I certainly hope it’s better than the last one.” He stated in a businesslike matter. “The last one worked too quickly. Yes; much too quickly.” He was muttering almost to himself as he slowly circled the table, never taking his eyes off the transparent fluid. He drew a syringe from the inside of his coat and filled it with the liquid. He gazed at the needle in an almost loving manner. “The last one would have been realized in hours. That won’t do. It must be days, perhaps weeks. They must never know; that is, until it is done.”
The spectacled man gazed at his accomplice; who had until this point remained silent. “What do you think of it?” He asked his accessory. The second man turned and with an hint of implication replied, “I think our scientists may have finally given us exactly what we need.”
The spectacled man nodded his head in confirmation, and strode over to the scientist with his hand outstretched. “Congratulations Dr. Wilson,” He told him, shaking his hand earnestly. “You have never failed to meet a challenge, and I will never forget it. I want you to know that I think of you not only as my employee, but as a deep, and loyal friend.” He said all of this looking the man straight in the eye, his sincere motions never wavering as he readjusted his hand around the syringe, now concealed by his coat sleeve.
The somewhat relieved scientist looked at the two doctors in admiration. “Sir, it has been an honor. I could never hope to work for two men more-“
“I do however,” Interrupted the spectacled man, making no recognition Dr. Wilson’s praise, “have one more task for you to accomplish, before I think our experiment is ready.” And with out another word, he swiftly revealed the syringe and stabbed it into the scientist’s arm, whose hand was still firmly clasped in his own. He felt the doctor’s arm tense as he injected all of the hypodermic’s contents into his veins. Once the needle was removed, their grip broke and the doctor jumped away clutching his arm, a look of terror in his eyes.
“What have you done!” he cried, looking into the cold eyes of the man who stood before him. “What have you done?”
The doctor’s expression showed no change, and he merely said disinterestedly, “Now don’t take it personally old friend.” The doctor said with a malevolent smile, “It’s science.”
He studied the syringe still clutched in his hand and then glazed back at the scientist. “Now tell me, exactly how do you feel? I highly doubt we’ll want to inject this much as the standard amount, but I believe it’s better to start up and work our way down. Now I want you to be completely honest.” He glanced back at the man still standing by the table. He had remained motionless this whole time. “You may want to write this down. I believe that most immediate ailments we can label as side effects, as long as they’re not too severe.” He turned back to Wilson, his voice laced with malice, “Now tell me my friend. What do you feel?”
The scientist looked horrified at the two men. “I…I feel fine. I don’t think-“ Just then the scientist turned and retched horribly onto the floor.
The doctor glanced at the vomiting man and calmly walked over to the speaker on the wall and pressed the button. “Darlene, would you please send some personnel up her to fetch Dr. Wilson, I’m afraid he has taken ill.” He released the button and turned back to the doctor, still heaving violently on the floor. The scientist smiled malevolently and turned to his partner. “It has begun. Finally, it has begun.”

5/22/05 05:18 pm - emilybriskey

senior edition is finally done! now I will be able to post more stories! right now we are actually working on our back to school editions which is going good. we only have 6 students in the class left because the seniors are leaving us. :( should be good anyway, more students will be in next year. anyway, ill start posting my articles soon enough.

4/7/05 07:10 pm - dangeresque2

Hi, my name's Evan Minsker and I'm a high school journalist. I live in West Virginia where controversy is apparently not allowed. I'd love to share my stories with you, because I'd really like some input on whether or not I'll be able to continue and pursue a career in journalism.

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