Once there lived a mysterious and strange girl. She lived in a small and perfect town called Honeyville. Her name was Margaret Elizabeth Rose. She was shy and loved to read books, so she was always kept as an outsider at school. She attended Honeyville Middle School. Everyone thought she had magical powers but she never believed in that. One day Margaret was walking home from a long tiring day at school when she came across a cute little book on the sidewalk. She picked it up and dusted it off, it had seemed as though it had been there for a long time. The book was called “Trapped”. As Margaret carefully read the summary. she was quickly interested. She ran home and sat under the great big tree in her backyard. It was her favorite place to read a book. She read for three hours straight and was finally on the last chapter of the book. Two pages left…one page left. Then she flipped the page. Suddenly she heard rumbling and the book glowed with extreme light. The wind started to blow hard fast air toward the book. Margaret tumbled in and fell inside the book. She was frightened but she desperately looked around trying to find anyone she knew. She found a room with voices, she quickly opened the door and saw the characters from the book “Trapped”. Quickly Margaret understood so she quickly adapted to her new environment. She understood that whenever a new person was trapped that the story would change.
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Dinosaur
Dinosaur the King of an Animal
The body is dead
But spirit’s here
But if the Body is here
The dinosaur can eat everybody!
But if spirit is here
Everybody can’t die!
Spirits pretend to eat us
But one day, the dinosaurs spirits
Will all be gone -
Because humans gonna use them all
To use oil.
Humans are ripping the nature’s head
That’s the oil and electricity.
In order to survive I must
be strong, have courage and keep
hope.
In order to survive I hunt
venison using my bow of bravery and
my knife of guts.
In order to survive I make
a shelter of beauty, and a trap of courage.
South Africa’s penguins
South Africa’s penguins
are sliding down to the sand.
Their stomachs are red.
They can’t eat water.
They can only eat sand.
But usually they like
potato chips toasted with
cheese and sand.
They love to eat it.
They don’t like swimming.
But they can swim in sand.
If someone put them
in water,
they jump out in the water,
and are biting them that they like.
Monkey is eating banana.
They love to shower
with 1000 degree centrigrade water.
I’m the cinnamon toast crunch that
gets all soggy in the milk.
I’m the coffee, warm and sweet and
always ready to go.
I’m the road that’s nice and warm
like the toasted bread.
I’m the maple syrup nice and very
sweet just like the freshly baked cookies.
I’m the polished wood table all
hard and on the outside
I’m the brick that stabilizes everything.
I’m milk chocolate all nice and
warm but when it gets all over
I’m sticky with madness.
I look here and I see them
I look there and more appear.
I’m bombarded from all directions.
T.V!
Pop-ups!
Cereal!
Fruit Snacks!
Posters!
Notebooks!
Pencils!
Ads plaster themselves on everything within reach
Full of mascots and slogans
Sleazy deals and tricky sakes
Instant Winner!
No Pay down!
10,000th visitor!
You could win!
But This FREE*!
(*except for shipping and handling.)
Crunchy Great Taste!
Hot Summer Sale!
50% off!
No Interest until 2009!
Every product is bigger, better, easier, flashier, cheaper.
McDonald’s and Ford,
I-pods and Coke.
Who cares?
It’s all the same.
Take them out!
They don’t belong.
Banish them!
The pointless, irritating, greedy, money-wasting advertisements!
They invade our lives,
Ensnare our mind,
And steal our money.
Let us not be fooled by trickery,
Silly theme songs, flashing colors,
Or bold lettering.
Advertisements will be our downfall.
Take them out!
I am Jim Penguin, age 32
Every 6 months I sail across the big blue
To Antarctica, for penguin studies
I live in a warm shack; those birds are my buddies
Or South America, to bask in the heat
I make my home their when I must kick up my feet.
I’m experienced in sailing the sea,
Jim P. Penguin-that’s me.
My skin is like willow bark
I bend in the wind but hold firm in my roots.
My skin is like cookie dough
I am fresh, warm, and comforting.
My skin is like light-colored pencils
I enjoy creating wonderful images.
My skin is like desktops
I always support creativity.
My skin is like a fennix fox
I brave the desert but always return to my den.
My skin is like sand
I can be hot and fierce but usually soft and smooth.
My skin is like a cracker
I’m happy on the outside but soggy in soup.
My skin is like yogurt
I am smooth and easy to open.
My skin is like bread
I am enjoyable and friendly to all who enjoy me.
My skin is me.
White clouds
lighten up when
small splashes of
sun seep in to
let the tan and pink
sunset make its name.
but not for long
rain drains away
the color and once
again lets
fluffy white clouds
cave in.
Deep into the jungle I plunged. Starting a long trip full of recklessness. Crashing through the branches not caring who or what hears. With my belly filled with water and my brain filled with intellect and respect. Respect for the jungle and the creatures that will become my prey, and the animals that will prey on me. With a sword stashed on my belt loop and a machete in hand I delve deeper until I come to a clearing. My body stiffens with fear and excitement as I hear a jungle cat call out to the others signaling the chase. My mind is thick full of hot smuggy jungle air and my skin slick with sweat. I feel courage pulsate through my blood. But then there’s a stabbing pain. Uncomprehending I turn as a huge claw digs into my flesh of my back. My face twists in agony. My mind goes fuzzy from the pain. The courage pouring out along with my blood. Sword!! The adrenaline has pushed my head back around. I bury the machete into the claw and swing wildly trying to get free of its grasp. Thirty minutes into the trip and I’ve already fallen prey. I’ve become the hunted. I drop to the ground and roll ripping loose from the terrible grasp.
