Tracey: 4-29-05

I don't know what I was trying to accomplish with this. I know one of my favorite things is to give characters backstory. I suppose that's what I was attempting with this. I don't care for this writing, based around Tracey from Pokemon, but it is something I cared enough about when I wrote to put it on a website.

~~

No one liked him, he was an outkast and no one in his grade wanted to play with him. Tracey sat in a corner, silently staring into space, tears trickling down his face.

"Keep your chin up dear." his older sister said, walking over to him. Tracey tried to quickly wipe away the tears so she wouldn't see.

"I don't understand, why am I differant?" Tracey looked up at her, sorrow in his eyes. "I wish mom and dad were still alive, then maybe I could fit in."

"Well," his siter began, "why would you want to? Being differant is what makes you special. Here, I got you something." she pulled out a package wrapped in brown paper.

Tracey eagerly ripped it open and discovered a special sketch book with a Marill embossed on the cover as well as a pack of pencils with differant types of bug pokemon on them. "Oh, thank you so much sis!" he hugged her tightly.

"Anytime," she smiled. "Now stand up, I want to take a picture of you to remember your happiness forever." she pulled out a disposable camera and took a picture of a blushing Tracey.

Two years later, she died.

Tracey just stood at the side of the coffin, emotionless. First his parents, and then his sister. Everyone he was close to had died. He was alone now and he couldn't bear it. He didn't care that the funeral was still in progress, he ran outside, his tie blowing over his shoulder and the wind blowing through his growing black hair.

He was still wearing his pink headband, his sister had given that to him when he had longer hair and it kept getting in his face. Tracey ran all the way to the lab at the center of Manderin Island. Inside he was greeted by Proffesor Ivy. "Hello Tracey, isn't your sister's funeral today?" she asked him.

"Yeah, but I can't stand everyone crying and everything, I'm sick of all of them." Tracey sat down on a bench, after knocking off the assorted socks and other misplaced items.

"Have some hot choclate, I just made some. It's unusually cold today." Professor Ivy poured him a cup and Tracey accepted it, taking a timid sip. Professor Ivy downed her first cup and got another. "Anything I can do for you today?"

"Well, I just turned ten, and I know that's the age you can get your first pokemon, I was wondering if I could get a pokemon today, you know, maybe it may help keep me company." Tracey sighed.

"Well, we don't have any starter pokemon in, but I'm sure we can find something for you. What would you like?" Professor Ivy set her cup down and put the pot of hot choclate back on the stove.

"Well, my sister was fond of bug pokemon, and I guess I've become so too. Maybe a Venonat." Tracey remembered that there was a Venonat on the pencils his sister had given him two years earlier.

"Luckily I know we have one. It's a foriegner, so it's colors are non-tropical. Someone abandened it who was visting from Kanto. I've been in a tizzy trying to figure out what to do with it." Prfessor Ivy adjusted her lab coat.

"That'd be so perfect, a Venonat of my own." Tracey smiled, but then quickly frowned as he remembered the reasoning for his wanting a pokemon.

Prfessor Ivy told him to wait while she went in the back. About fifteen minutes later, she came back with a pokeball. "There you go, inside is the Venonat. Poor creature, it will do him good to get off of the island. Are you going to go for badges now?" she asked him.

"No, I want to draw pokemon. Maybe Venonat can help me."

Praise Poem 2/11/05

I got invited to attend a workshop given by an author when I was still in high school. She had us write praise poems there. This was mine.

~

I am who I am, for non-other has ever been like me
From rising sun to crashing sea, who is this me?
I keep to myself, hide in my tortoise shell
Though when I'm around others the words do fly
Sometimes my words can annoy, like a common house fly.
I come from many places, so many that all the names blend
One place I do remember is my home state Florida.
And let me tell you, as much as I hate the color
And love the fruit, I am just like that Florida orange.
Red is my hidden anger and secrets
Yellow are my social tendencies
Blended to form a shell outside and a sweet, sweet inside.
Many don't know the true me, but who am I?
I fly like a swallo, but hide quickly in that old oak tree.
Let me tell you, I'm no walk on that diamond beach.
I am the day on which the maethyst shines,
I am the full moon in the night sky.
I am the rainbow, varying and refracted,
but when you reach the barebones
I am only a pearl embossed dove looking for a perch of sweet, soft love.

The Way Things Were 1/11/2005

I remember being quite proud of this poem. I even had an awesome illustration to go with it.

~


There I sat’ alone at the edge of the woods
A gentle breeze blew my hair and I was happy
Many thought me to be sad because I sat all alone
But they couldn’t see that I was happy
Because I liked it that way.

There I could think of many things
That others would think weird
Like what is the purpose of my being and
When is the end of forever.
I liked to think of the impossible mysteries
And I was happy
Because I liked it that way.

After many years had gone by,
The woods were cut down
And the breeze ceased to blow,
But I had my memories
And I continued to be happy
Because I had liked it that way.

The World was Deahtly Silent 1/8/05

I remember being proud of this back in the day as well. I wrote it while using the bathroom

~


The silence was insufferable,
and nothing was heard.
And nothing seemed to move,
Not even the fluttering wings of a bird.

The clock seemed trapped at a minute to four,
no one had passed me by yet,
and as I walked shut were the doors,
and at the school the bell was silent.

Not a thing did move,
even the hands of the clock..
As I began to wonder if
I was the only living thing on the block.

On the playground, not a kid was there,
And at the lake, not a duck in sight.
I passed a bee upon a flower, he was deathly still,
And as I looked up, not a single bird in flight.

I began to run, someone had to be here,
But as I ran through the town,
In restaurants, in parks, in stores,
Not a single person was around.

The air was beginning to smell musty,
And not a car was upon the road.
I began to shiver in fear, something’s not right here,
As I began to sweat, I had a feeling of forebode.


I finally heard a faint bittersweet sound,
Like the ringing of a bell.
And as I turned and saw a black-hooded figure,
I then realized this was hell.

Ballad of April 4/13/2003

This is from Middle School! Very very old. It's about the revolutionary war, I believe.

~

When spring should be
from the sky to the sea
and the flowers blooming 'round
When the world should stand
there came a man
with a wound upon his soul

The red were to come
there were a thousand and one
on their way to Concord
The militia signed
to try to stop
the red coats upon the green

The drum roll roared
the militia gathered
with anxiety they waited
The footsteps they heard
the red coats they faced
war was to come

Then one wayward gun was shot
and the battle had begun
Many were killed that fateful day
one April morn

As the wives walked among the dead
their hearts were full of dread
But else where those left
had gathered at the bridge
their thoughts on revenge
and a way to surprise the red coats

The guns were fired
and many were killed
but the red coats did fleee
There was much to lose
and much to gain
one April morn

As one boy walked back to his home
his heart full of pain
all he wanted was to go home
he had suffered so many losses
that April morn