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this is the final installment of my continuation of chapter 1 of a book called the Burn Journals, by Brent Runyon. Read my previous posts to catch up.

Brent opened his eyes halfway, the lights in the ceiling temporarily blinding him. His body hurt all over. Where was he? What was going on? Why did his skin feel like he had been bitten by fire ants all over his body? He tried to lean forwards but his neck exploded with pain. He tried to cry out but he couldn’t find his voice. The lights started swirling overhead. Who were those people standing around him? He heard voices. He recognized those voices. Was that Mom? He tried to call out her name, but nothing came out. Was that Craig? Craig. His brother, his kid brother, was there. He was always such a jerk to Craig even though he could tell how much Craig looked up to him. He tried to apologize, but he couldn’t get the words out. His dad was even there. He realized now how much he loved them all. All of a sudden he remembered what he had done. Why had he done that? He tried to take his life just because of an incident at school. He felt his eyes watering up, the tears stung his face so bad it took his breath away. He started gasping for air but he couldn’t breathe. He heard beeping, was that his pulse? The nurse rushed into the room, and held his gauze  covered hand. His mom whispered to him that everything would be all right. And in that moment, despite the burns covering 85% of his body, Brent Runyon found peace. It didn’t matter that he was in trouble at school. It didn’t matter that his dad was always away on business or that he had screwed up so badly already. The only thing that mattered now was that his family was around him, and they loved him. His family forgave him for what he had done and he was finally happy. He closed his eyes, and despite the pain that spread like wildfire across his skin, smiled.

This is the fourth part in my story. Read my posts from the last few days if you don’t understand. Enjoy

Craig sat on the curb outside the side exit door. He tried to be mad at Brent for what he did, calling him selfish and other things, but he couldn’t. He loved his brother too much to be mad. Depsite all that had happened, all he could think of was seeing his brother. Craig returned to the emergency room hallway. He walked down to the waiting room and saw his mom talking to the nurse. He contemplated walking away, just so he could avoid talking to the nurse with the fake smile who kept telling him it would be okay. Instead, he walked up to his mom and gave her a hug. He wasn’t sure why he did that, but it felt like the right thing to do, and she smiled at him. It was the first time she had seemed genuinely happy to see him in a long time. Just then, his father came out of the elevator and ran up to them. He was frantic, asking them over and over what happened. The nurse told the three of them that they could go visit Brent now, provided that they were quiet. The three of them, led by the nurse, rushed off anxiously.

This is the third page of my story, read the previous days posts if you have no idea what is going on. Hope you enjoy.

Brent’s father, Ron, stepped into the airport terminal. He was a busy man, and he was proud of it. He worked hard all day, six days a week to make money. He knew that he worked a little harder than necessary, but he wanted to make partner at his firm and he rationalized it by saying that he did it for his family. In truth, he had started working more and more as his kids grew older. He knew it wasn’t right, but it was what he did nonetheless. He felt like he wasn’t capable of relating to his kids, they seemed foreign to him. He volunteered more and more for business trips, just to avoid the awkward stares at the dinner table. His oldest son, Brent, made him uncomfortable. He could tell Brent was a good kid, but he didn’t know how to talk to him. The more he avoided Brent, the worse the situation became. Ron knew that he was making things worse, but he couldn’t help himself. He turned his phone on, and immediately the phone vibrated, telling him that he had seven new voicemails. He listened to the first one and dropped his suitcase. He let his precious Blackberry, the thing that never left his sight, slip out of his fingertips as he sprinted for the exit. How could this happen? He tried to blame his son in his mind, calling him an out of control teen, but he realized it wasn’t his fault. It was his own fault. He was never there for his son, and now look what had happened. None of that mattered now to Ron though, he just wanted to be with his son; for the first time in years, he actually wanted to face his son.

This is the second page of my ending to the Burn Journals, after reading only chapter one. Hope you enjoy.

He kept hearing Brent calling his name “Craig! Craig! Wake up Craig!”             “Huh?” His mom shook him awake.               “Wake up Craig. You were mumbling.” Craig’s mom said. She was smiling at him, but      he could see her sorrow and worry in her big green eyes.            “Ok mom. I’m gonna go for a walk” He said as he walked away. He could feel his eyes watering up and he didn’t want to cry in front of his mom. He had to clear his head. He needed to think. He took the elevator down to the gift shop and looked at all the small trinkets and worthless items. Were any of these gifts supposed to actually cheer people up? Who would want a small stuffed penguin when they were sick? It was stupid. He turned to leave and saw something that made his stomach turn. It was a deck of cards. On the box of cards was a picture, a picture of an Ace of Spades. Craig remembered a few years back when his brother had made up this weird religion about the ace of spades or something like that. Craig had gone along with it and said it was cool, but only because he wanted Brent to like him. He walked out the door, grimly smiling at the memory of his brother’s antics.            Craig’s mother, Judy, watched as her son walked away. She turned her gaze back to the floor. She stared intently at the light blue tiles as she recalled the agonizing events of her day. First, she had been called home from work to find that her son was being taken to the hospital. Then, she had to deal with her other son breaking his wrist and several fingers after punching a wall over and over again. How had this happened? She had noticed that Brent had become extremely distant in the past few months, or maybe even years, but she did not understand how it had come to this. To be honest, she hadn’t really noticed what her son had been doing lately, or cared for that matter. What happened to the son who used to hug her legs and cry when she would drop him off at kindergarten? What happened to the mother who cared?  “God, she thought to herself, I have been a terrible mother.” She brought her knees up to her chin and tried to contain a sob as it escaped from her lips.  She put her head down and wept uncontrollably for the first time in years.

In my junior year of high school I was given an assignment. My assignment was to continue where the first chapter of a novel entitled The Burn Journals by Brent Runyon left off. The book is about a teen who sets himself on fire in an attempt at suicide. I did not make up the original story, but the following is all my original work. None of it was copied in any way. I continued the story on my own. Hope you enjoy. I will post one page at a time for the next five days.

            Craig was sitting in the waiting room looking down at the temporary cast on his hand. His mom was to his left with her head in her hands. She had been like that all day. His dad was on a plane, somewhere, returning from his business trip. What a great welcome home present this would be. He looked down at his hand, it was throbbing from where he punched the wall in his house. Why would Brent do that? Brent was cool, Brent was awesome, Brent was his older brother; big brothers aren’t supposed to do things like that. Craig felt himself slipping back to what had happened earlier that day. He had seen Brent come home from school, dressed in black like always. He walked wordlessly past Craig. Craig had tried to get Brent’s attention to hang out, he always did, but to no avail. Minutes later he heard Brent screaming his name. What happened next made Craig cringe, even as he mentally recalled it. He walked slowly up the stairs, then started running as he saw smoke. What was that smell? It smelled worse than when their dad tried to barbecue burgers for the 4^th of July. He opened the bathroom door, expecting to see that his brother had lit a piece of paper on fire or something, like he always did. Instead, what he saw would forever be branded into his mind. His brother, his idol, his hero (though he never admitted it), was on the ground, rolling back and forth as if he was having an epileptic seizure. He was wearing his robe, the one he loved so much, and it was literally on fire. The fire was engulfing his body and to Craig he seemed frozen in time. Brent was screaming his name but Craig didn’t know what to do. It was as if he was stuck. He kept hearing Brent calling his name “Craig! Craig!”

Well not quite a bloodbath, but bloody enough to raise some eyebrows. Some are questioning whether or not “black friday” should be banned after last Friday’s infamous escapade at a Wal-Mart in New York. A Wal-Mart employee was literally trampled to death after opening the doors for a huge sale at Wal Mart. As soon as he opened the door and kindly greeted the excited shoppers, he was not greeted with “thank you’s” but rather with the soles of their sneakers. He was thrown to the ground by greed, and trampled by consumerism. This loyal employee was literally killed by the greed that is, in essence, America. Several employees tried to help him, and they were thrown to the floor as well by the stampede of fat, greedy shoppers searching for cheap TV sets. In all, four people were hurt and one poor man was killed. One of the people thrown to the ground and trampled was a pregnant woman. She was 8 months pregnant and when she went over to help her friend who was getting crushed to death, she was thrown to the ground next to him and treated to the same abuse. Police report that the woman will be ok, as she was pulled out of the fray much before the unfortunate man was. What is wrong with the world today? Read my last few blogs….two men shot each other to death a Toys R’ Us? And now a kind employee is trampled to death by greed and consumerism? God Bless America.

Black Friday became a bloody Friday in Southern California when two men shot eachother to death near the check out line of a Toys R’ Us in SoCal. Apparently the shootout was started because two women began screaming at eachother, and then one of the women punched the other woman in the face. Before anyone knew what was happening, one of the men pulled a gun, the other did the same, and they shot eachother to death. I am not exactly sure how this happens, or what kind of person brings a gun to a Toys R’ Us for that matter, but that is irrelevant. This just shows how screwed up the world is… people can’t go to a Toys R’ Us without being beat up and/or shot to death? Police reports claimed that the fight was not over merchandise, which makes me wonder what it was about. Also, investigators state that the two couples did not know each other prior to the incident, which seems odd, because how many people would bring a gun to a toy store?

In sporting news, Stephon Marbury is simply an idiot. He got fined $400K for refusing to play a basketball game. He is getting paid millions of dollars to play a great game, something he should love, and he just flat out refuses to play. What an idiot. Marbury is now claiming that he never told Coach Mike D’Antoni that he isn’t playing, apparently insisting that an NBA coach made up a story about his player refusing to play; that is clearly preposterous (did I spell that right?). Marbury makes $190,000 a game, $21 million per year, which probably makes him the most overpaid athlete in the history of sports. Because Marbury skipped the game, he didn’t get paid his $190,000 for that game, and he is being benched against Golden State tomorrow which is another $190,000, PLUS he is getting docked pay for his next game, which is another $190,000. Also, he was fined $400,000 which brings the total to $970,000 that moron Marbury just lost. He has been bleeding the Knicks dry for years, and it has come to this. Marbury is acting mad, saying that this is the end of “the marriage”. No one will sign him after this. Bye bye Starbury

Wow, who knew the Phillies actually had it in them. Even though I wanted them to win the series, I figured, along with most of America, that they couldn’t. So far though, Philadelphia has definitely proved me wrong. They won game 4 today in VERY convincing fashion. They annihilated tampa bay 10-2. Andy Sonnanstine had a horrible outing for Tampa, but its not like he had much run support from the offense. Where are the powerful bats that plagued the Red Sox in the ALCS? I used to cry every time Upton, Pena, or Longoria came to bat, anticipating another booming homer. Now, they are being shut down easily. And its not like the Phillies pitching is much better than the Red Sox…Jon Lester? Daisuke Matsuzaka? Josh Beckett? All good pitchers. Why couldn’t the Rays go in a hitting slump during the AlCS.

Regardless, congrats to the Phillies on winning game 4 in a blowout. One game left and the Rays miracle season will finally be over. Go Phillies.

Anthony, or Ant as most called him, was in his third year at Morningside High. Like any other student there, he was just biding his time until he could get out of school and live his life. He didn’t have a set plan for after high school, but he knew it must be better than what happened at Morningside. Like every day at lunch, Ant was sitting with his friends at the center table. All of his friends were black, which was typical in his community. That was the way it was in Inglewood, people stuck together. There were generally two groups: the blacks, and the Hispanics. Ant didn’t necessarily hate other races, but all of his friends seemed to so he had no choice but to go along with the pressure. So, a fight was started between the two groups, he had no choice but to get involved, and that was precisely what was about to happen. A new student, from Mexico, was nervously making his way across the cafeteria when he accidentally stepped on Ant’s friend, Jamal’s, shoe.
“Watch where you’re going, b*tch!” Jamal yelled as he struck the terrified new student. Within half a second, Hispanic students across the cafeteria jumped up, ready for action, for they too felt a loyalty to stick together, and fight together. As soon as the Hispanic students jumped to their feet, the black students leapt up as well, and within seconds the cafeteria was filled with hundreds of students ready to fight at a moments notice. One of the larger Hispanic students came up and hit Jamal in the back of the head with a cafeteria tray. In an instant, the entire cafeteria erupted into a giant brawl. Black students attacked Hispanic students, whether or not they were involved in the incident at all, and Hispanic students did likewise. Ant had no choice but to jump in and tackle the kid who hit Jamal.

This is a short story I wrote for a morality class in school. Enjoy. This is just the introduction, more will follow tomorrow.

For years, the largest minority group in the
United States of America had been the African-American population. Black people became accustomed to being the largest minority group in
America, almost to the extent that they were not much of a minority. However, over the past decade or so, an influx of Hispanic immigrants has arrived in
America. Millions of people have emigrated, legally and illegally, from places in Central and South America, especially
Mexico. Because of this sudden incursion of the Hispanic population, the African-American populace was replaced as the largest minority. The usurping of the position as the largest minority by the Hispanics caused tension across the nation, often resulting in violence and loss of life.

“Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!” the principal heard the students cry heartily, as yet again two separate groups of students broke out in a vicious fight. The groups were, of course, separated by race. One group was the black crowd, and the other group was the slightly larger Hispanic crowd. At
Morningside
High School in Inglewood, Los Angeles, and in hundreds of other high schools across
America, fights like these were becoming more and more common. The principal wondered what started the fight this time, if there was even a reason; most of these fights were started out of ignorance and fear. However, the reason was irrelevant; the outbreak of violence was the problem.