Abby M wonders:


The Author

It was a Sunday afternoon and I was enjoying the sun and writing an oral report. Which I enjoy almost as much as reading them.

I’m Sam and i’m in 7th grade. I have black hair with a part in the front that’s longer than the rest of it and that part is died blood red. Curtsy of my mom whose a stylist in the gothic plaza. I’m known as the Gothic gorilla at Cumquat Elementary School in Lake Tahoe Nevada. I’m not popular at all because I’m gothic. I just don’t want to express my true self to others. I suffer from temporary blindness sometimes… As to where I’m blind for 1 or 2 days. I get CS and BS in school because I’m actually VERY VERY unusually smart and I don’t want E.N.E.N.Y one to find out. When I was 1 week old I could already read at a preschool level. Ok that was just the outline of my regular life. This is just not even the begin. Not even the outline of the story.

Patrick picket my scrawny body up. God his breath smelled like tuna salad… and… Chopped liver and vinegar cods. Eneny ways he picket me up my led zeppelin shirt.

“I’m guna send ya inta a worla pain Sam Domin.” He said.

“You know I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You might get your big ass kicked.” I teased.
“Whata ya talken about Domin.” He retorted

I just stood… Poor choice of words I just hung there looking comb. He drooled with a blank look on his face.

“BERWIC. DROP HIM!” Some one snapped from behind me.

There was a flash of light a sharp pain and the next thing I knew I was in a little shack on the floor with a deer hide blanket covering me. I gowned and rolled over felling piercing pain in my spine.

“Ahh your awake Author.” Author? Whose was that the person that was talking to whom?

I groaned again. And stretched. “What h-happened?” I said felling very weak and dazed.

“You fell out of that gargoyles hands.” I guessed he was talking about Patrick. “You know I can’t see you lad.” What is he talking about I thought? “Oh so you don’t know.” Can he read minds or something? “ Yes I can actually.” WHAT THE FREAK!!! “ Yes master author. It is sort of odd.”

“ W-why are Y-you calling me author?” I asked.

“Yes that is hard to explain… Your high hinnies.”

I learned later that I was invisible and an heir to some throne in the world of trans lion. All I though for the next 15 minutes is IM A KING!?!

Abby M wonders:


The Author

It was a Sunday afternoon and I was enjoying the sun and writing an oral report. Which I enjoy almost as much as reading them.

I’m Sam and i’m in 7th grade. I have black hair with a part in the front that’s longer than the rest of it and that part is died blood red. Curtsy of my mom whose a stylist in the gothic plaza. I’m known as the Gothic gorilla at Cumquat Elementary School in Lake Tahoe Nevada. I’m not popular at all because I’m gothic. I just don’t want to express my true self to others. I suffer from temporary blindness sometimes… As to where I’m blind for 1 or 2 days. I get CS and BS in school because I’m actually VERY VERY unusually smart and I don’t want E.N.E.N.Y one to find out. When I was 1 week old I could already read at a preschool level. Ok that was just the outline of my regular life. This is just not even the begin. Not even the outline of the story.

Patrick picket my scrawny body up. God his breath smelled like tuna salad… and… Chopped liver and vinegar cods. Eneny ways he picket me up my led zeppelin shirt.

“I’m guna send ya inta a worla pain Sam Domin.” He said.

“You know I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You might get your big ass kicked.” I teased.
“Whata ya talken about Domin.” He retorted

I just stood… Poor choice of words I just hung there looking comb. He drooled with a blank look on his face.

“BERWIC. DROP HIM!” Some one snapped from behind me.

There was a flash of light a sharp pain and the next thing I knew I was in a little shack on the floor with a deer hide blanket covering me. I gowned and rolled over felling piercing pain in my spine.

“Ahh your awake Author.” Author? Whose was that the person that was talking to whom?

I groaned again. And stretched. “What h-happened?” I said felling very weak and dazed.

“You fell out of that gargoyles hands.” I guessed he was talking about Patrick. “You know I can’t see you lad.” What is he talking about I thought? “Oh so you don’t know.” Can he read minds or something? “ Yes I can actually.” WHAT THE FREAK!!! “ Yes master author. It is sort of odd.”

“ W-why are Y-you calling me author?” I asked.

“Yes that is hard to explain… Your high hinnies.”

I learned later that I was invisible and an heir to some throne in the world of trans lion. All I though for the next 15 minutes is IM A KING!?!

berlajolli wonders:


here I sit face to face with Saramago’s lattest (in English at least) novel “Seeing”. Somewhat displeased with his “blindness” and totally disappointed with “The Year of Death of Ricardo Reis” I sit in wonder: to read or not to read? Suggestions welcome.

!~*~!*!~*~! wonders:


“On His Blindness” by John Milton.

When I consider how my light is spent,
E’re half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one Talent which is death to hide,
Lodg’d with me useless, though my Soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present [ 5 ]
My true account, least he returning chide,
Doth God exact day labour, light deny’d,
I fondly ask; But patience to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, God doth not need
Either man’s work or his own gifts, who best [ 10 ]
Bear his milde yoak, they serve him best, his State
Is Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed
And post o’re Land and Ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and waite.

The speaker of “On His Blindness” worries that he will not be able to:
a – read the Bible.
b – see God’s face.
c – see the light.
d – do God’s work.

Thank you so MUCH!!