Literary Terms- Fun Examples

Hey there, ever heard of literary terms? Well, guess what, I personally had to take several tests about these so am used to all of them. Don't get scared by hearing those two words, even thought a lot of words follow them, they are very easy to remember. How many languages do you speak?? Knowing several languages can help you memorize different terms easier because they come from the same root word. TO make you understand every literary term fully, I will give you some examples so you can memorize the words.
Act: does this sound familiar to you? Do you remember the times when you were small and teachers would remind you to watch how you act? Why don't you refer to that when you think of an act? This is a ways you can remember it, because an act is simply a section of a play, and other way of remembering it is as a chapter in a book.
Alliteration:  anyone ever said you are a Big Bad Boy to you? Do you notice the b,b,b? This is all that alliteration is about, it is a set of words starting with the same sound or letter.
 Anecdote: A short, entertaining story usually about a real person used to make a point. Any idea of who Einstein is? He was a famous and very intelligent child but unfortunately he was only good in science and wasn't interested in the other subjects. Let's say that there would be a short story about how he would fail math test but pass every time, this story would be entertaining because it includes a real person and interesting facts and everything he did in life.
Autobiography: True facts about a person also usually written from first person perspective: I. For example, Jane Goodall, and animal lover, wrote many books about her self and everything she has established in life. But this doesn't have to be a famous person, you  might decide to write an autobiography about  yourself and publish it to your family.
Biography: A story or written piece about real facts about a person but is not written by the person in the book, but usually in 2nd or 3rd point of view. So back to the autobiography, back to the example that you write an autobiography about yourself, and your friend starts writing about your book and about you life, that would be a biography.
Cast of Characters: A list of names of all characters who will take part in the play. This is usually seen as a chart with on one side the real names of the participants, and on the other side the names they will be called in the play.
Character: Any animal, person or thing in a play is a character. Ever seen the series of The Princess Diaries? In this movie, there are major and minor characters. Minor are the ones that are not as important and are mentioned in the story but not as much as major ones. In your life, who are the major people who mean the most to you? Who are a bit minor?
Characterization: The way a writer creates and develops a character. Do you notice any difference between these two sentences?: 1)The girl ran to the other side. 2) The little 4-yer-old girl crosses the street without noticing the danger she was going to face. I think you do, did you notice how it is not only "the girl" but details are being added to the text?
Climax: This is the high point of interest of the story. Where the problem has been spotted and now there are several effects that could happen. Usually the most exciting part of the story.
Conflict:Who does a conflict mostly remind you of? A bully right!? But that is not the only conflict that happens in life, there is external and internal. Internal, happens in your mind, and External, is usually physical. Description: We all know what this is,or? It is detail! Every noun should have some type of detail: The black dog, the scary cat. Description is in other words adjectives, these describe something in physical form or feeling.
Dialect: A form of language from different places. Each place has a different accent, and dialect is all connected to how these people speak. What does your dialect sound like? Is it similar to the British one? Or more like an American one?  Don't be surprised if you can't choose because it sounds like more than one, every language is similar to some other in the world.
Dialogue: What would we do without dialogue? We use this every day can you believe it? This is the communication between characters, when this is used  in books it is marked with: " and"
Drama: A story that is meant to be acted out and has a plot just like any other story.
Fantasy:  This is known as a story set in a completely imaginary world with nothing that could relate to the real world. An animal as a liobeus doesn't exist, but if I were to write a story, I might use it because it is a mix of lion, bear and octopus which doesn't appear normal to our world.
Fiction: Think of fiction ad a form of literature somewhat similar to fantasy but might include some true facts but have changed information from the real ones.
Irony: What the heck is this? to be honest I didn't know this either at first, but after all it is easy to remember. This is a word that a writer uses to mean the exact opposite of its normal meaning.
Folk tale: A simple story about humans or animals. These stories have been handed down by generation to generation from mouth. I can't really give you an example of one of these stories because I might be wrong, go ask a friend or family if they know any story like this :D
Form: a synonym for this would be shape. Also the way something looks. For example, if it is Christmas, you might decide to write a poem on a paper formed as a Christmas tree.
Humor: The quality that makes writing funny amusing to a reader
Foreshadowing: Gives you indication of what is going to happen but you don't know how it is going to end. For example: The man went for a knife, this might mean that he is planning to kill someone or on the other hand, he might want to peel an apple.
Imagery: Description that makes an object or experience so real that the reader can see it.
Legend: Similar to a folk tale because it is passed on to generations except for the fact that it is based on someone who really existed but while people pass them on, they over exaggerate making the "hero" seem unbeatable
Metaphor and Simile: These two words are pretty similar but a bit different. They are both used to compare two very different things in different ways. Let's say there is a boy you find attractive or something, and you say: You are just as strong as superman - simile( these include: like or as) You are Superman-metaphor
Motive- this is where the languages come in,if you know other languages,such as Italian, you say motive:motivo- so it is very easy to remember. Motive is the reason for why something happened or a character did what they did.
Mood: The feeling the writer wants the reader to get while reading. This happens through dialogue, words or action.
Narrative Poetry: This one is easy to guess, it is a poem that includes narrative writing, this means it has characters, setting and plot.
Narrator:
The teller of the story (can be a character in the story)
Hyperbole: Over exaggerating for example: I am so hungry I could eat a horse! Who could eat a horse?!
Denotation: A definition from the dictionary about a word
Connotation: The feeling, emotion or meaning a words brings to your mind.

These are just some examples, there are much more. But personally, I think these are the most important ones :D

Public Service Announcements

      Since the 04.05.11 in my English class we were working on Public Service Announcements. You may be asking yourself what is a PSA (Public Service Announcements)? Before you even know that, do you know what an advertisement is? An advertisement is like an announcement trying to convince someone to buy a product or think is a positive way about whatever the advertisement is advertising. PSA’s are very similar to advertisements because they are both hung up somewhere where citizens can see it and it is widely spoken about. The only little difference is that in PSA’s the point is not for something to be advertised so it can be sold, but the point is to encourage human beings about some issue in the world and persuade them to help in any way they can. Sometimes the best way to do that is forming fear in the people so they become aware of what is happening. When I first started working on this project, I researched on Wikipedia what a PSA was and came up with three main issues which no one else in my class was doing, there were: Go green, Drunk Driving and Child abduction. I researched a bit on all of them and I was most interested in the Drunk Driving so I decided to do a presentation about drunk driving.  Once we had our topic decided, we were meant to answer some questions on either a poster, power point or any other program. I chose power point because I found it pretty easy and I know how it works so I had a clear idea of what I wanted to do. While I was writing the things into Microsoft power point, I changed the font so that once I show it to my audience they would be more interested. The questions we had to answer where: What? When? Why? Where? And how? I personally thought that answering these questions for my topic wasn’t that hard because they were kind of obvious but I still researched to find out more about them. The thing I liked the most while creating the power point and researching, was learning about all the different types of things you can get arrested by because I thought it was just one thing: drunk driving and one fine for it, but actually, there are more. These include:

DUI: Driving under intense influence

DUII: Driving while intoxicated

DWI: Operating while intoxicated

OWI: Operating a motor vehicle while intoxicated

OMVI: Driving during the combined influence of Alcohol and drugs

DWAI: Driving while ability impaired

OVI: Operating a vehicle while impaired

Once I preformed my topic, and compared it to the other topics from the others and how I presented, I think I did pretty well because the presentation wasn’t too long like some other ones were and the information was accurate which is a big thing. One of the biggest things that grabs your audiences eyes are picture. I made sure to include at least 1 picture on each slide so I could compare what I was saying to the pictures. I also included a chart in one slide to show how serious issues in the world are and how much percent of what is more serious. Drunk driving, was in the middle and it was 7% of seriousness needed to solve it and 7% of the worlds issues. I must say that this unit taught me a lot and was actually interesting because now I can alert others from drunk driving. While I was presenting, I think I did just as I did the other times, that is because I didn’t have many-ums, I knew everything, and didn’t go over time. So after all, I think I now have new experiences with other stuff and I did a god job presenting because others understood.

These are some pictures I included on my slide show and you might want to take a glance at:

 References:

žhttp://kidshealth.org/teen/drug_alcohol/alcohol/alcohol.html#

žhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Drunk_driving

Young Authors

 During the last two month and a half, my class has been working on writing a story about anything. My story, was called Lost Soul. One of our assignments was to post tour stories on our blog, and this is mine: But before I even start, I must say I really enjoyed writing about my own story because I could have used any thing I wanted, and I was free to write about anything I wanted. I think I couldn't have started writing my book without this magnificent film I watched in Slovakia. This film was pretty much my link that helped me through everything. I hope you enjoy reading my story, and that maybe once you will see the movie yourself and will remember it from my story.

 

Lost Soul	April 11 2011
I was never thought to be a warier, my life was a lie, and nothing was meant to be. A soul haunts my house, that’s what they say, I say they have a wide imagination. They shouldn’t find out about me, actually, I should never find out about them.		By Alex L.

Publisher: New Found land Organization of Publishing

Published Year: 2011

Table of contents:

Chapter 1: pg 1

Chapter 2: Pg 1-2

Chapter 3: pg 2

Chapter 4: pg 3

Chapter 5: pg 4

Chapter 6: pg 4-5

Chapter 7: pg 6-7

Chapter 8: pg 7-8

Chapter 9: pg 8-9

Dedicated to my dear family

Page 1:

Chapter 1:

They say when a person dies; its soul never fades away. Its habitat is the possession one has, the place where it can kill, the place where it can make you remember everything. I grew up in a fake way, my mother never told me truth, and I was never trusted. We lived in a big lonely house in California back then, the first house my family ever bothered to construct. I never realized the pain I was going through, I thought I was happy, I thought I had everything I needed, but therefore, my whole life was a lie. I would have never realized that, if my parents wouldn’t have divorced, at least that’s what I was told. My mum thinks I am too young to know everything, and that it’s the past, so I don’t have to worry about anything, but I do. I never really understood why my dad left us when I was 9, did he hate us?? Or was he hiding a secret? People say I am way too good for this world, I guess I am, but it all follows the fact that I am a family person. I don’t know why, it’s probably because I never got enough love. But I never gave up believing that my dad, Henry Johnson, was a great person, at least that’s what I thought. Every day of my childhood I would meet up with friends, but I was different in a way, I never liked the lifeless activities they did. I loved being involved in investigations, in crimes and everything that included insecurity, it was a big risk. I was a lonely child, so I had a better opportunity for making my little dream true.  Whenever I asked my mum to explain stuff, she refused. That’s why she never was my model; I knew I could never look up to her.

Chapter 2:

I barely remembered anything about the old house we lived in when I was small, because when I was about 10, which is right after my dad left me, we moved into an apartment. The divorcement between my parents might be the explanation of the moving. There are only a few things I remember about the moving in into the new apartment. I know that my mum wanted me to get rid of every existent tool or object I had from my dad. She was full of hate by the time we moved into the apartment…she couldn’t talk about anything but her problems, but of course not to me, she only talked to her friends. But I must admit that moving away from the house did help me realize what a liar my mother was. I became friendlier, and started making bunch of friends. Through these friends, I figured out that their mothers or parents knew my mum pretty well, and they told their children everything they knew, so of course they told me. I saw a huge difference between their lives and mine. My life is missing communication, I never got to express my feeling or talk to anyone, my only job was to listen. Listen to the few things I ever got told in life. One of them was: Learn from your mistakes, but that’s not what my mum told me. Elisa Johnson, my mother, said I should never try to do mistakes, and if I do, never do the same thing again, never think back about it, she was wrong. Anyhow, I started trying to communicate with my mother, and I was relieved when I heard she wanted to start a better relationship, she said starting over would be the best thing. So I did, and I started making up all the time I lost love in. But again, it was nothing but a “miss understanding,” that’s what my mum would call it. I stayed with my mum until I was 19...I couldn’t stand the fact anymore that I was being entrusted from my own mother. It was unbelievable, it was my life.

Chapter 3:

During university, I settled down in Rome. I was studying in the I.U.M.E. (International University of Mechanism and Engineering.) I guess I changed my plans for life a bit while I was going through school. Somewhere deep inside I was still interested in crimes and detection, but I thought that this school, would bring me more success in life. I hated university, I had to move away from everyone because the only school available that I was searching for was in Rome and that is far away from California. But there is something I loved the school for.  This was where I met my true love, Michael Smiths. At that time he was one year ahead of me and the only thing I remember was that he had beautiful brown eyes with brownish-blackish hair. He studied in the  P.S.S.(Police Security School)His schools boss, was a very close friend to my schools director, so they would come and visit every 2^nd week and we would share adventures, ideas and everything that popped up in the 20 minute time they gave us to see each other. When I completed university, we married. Even though I graduated as an engineer, I started feeling the passion for danger again.

 However happy I was while I passed through my twenties, I started hearing about rumors from my dad. I knew my mum wouldn’t help so I didn’t even bother asking her for help. I thought this was the perfect opportunity to detect a crime or whatever everyone was talking about. Since my husband was an officer, he could have helped me but I trusted myself, unlike my mother, who thought I couldn’t succeed in anything. I started learning about my father’s past and about fact that could help me discover more and more. I came up with 3 main facts. My dad used to be a police officer in his twenties, he set dozens of people in prison that were found innocent, and he was guilty. Reading through facts at the police management office, took my breath way, I swear I could feel my blood pressure rising and I felt watched. There was too much confusion, so much I didn’t understand. And every page I looked through, it said Istmus. Who was that?

Chapter 4

I’m not the type of person who gives up easily, I am Sarah Johnson and I get what I want. Or is that only what I think? I found nothing, but really nothing in the next month, so I decided to go back to my own life, which I nearly forgot about. I got hired at a candle shop. The shop was really big, it was located in California and had 2 floors. Actually 3 if I count the underground storey. I used to go to that shop every day and nothing special ever happened. One day though, I finished all my work and I felt a smooth, cold touch on my shoulder. I wasn’t convinced that anything was there, I was pretty sure that I must have heard something but I didn’t want to seem crazy. The only clear voice I could hear was saying: “Your dad, your dad.” I thought I should take this signal as a negative sign, I did believe in paranormal activity and I did understand that if a soul is furious, it will get its revenge. How could I possibly go on in my work when I knew my father was in danger? Or what was that signal meant to indicate? I quit my job just a few days later and I started getting a bad feeling about Istmus. I never knew him, but I knew he was my enemy.  I knew that my dad was staying at a hotel that night and I had the feeling that everything was up to me; did I want my dad alive or dead? What type of question is that? Of course I wanted him alive. It was way too early to go save anyone, first comes the history of facts you have to get used to so you can investigate on. I found out that Istmus was killed in front of a Californian house, but they wouldn’t tell me which one. I also learned that for some reason Henry was being hunted by Istmus, that was my clue that my feelings where right. My father was in danger. I started hanging out with my dad and asking him what he knew about Istmus. All he told me was that I shouldn’t know everything because he is trying to protect me. I would have believed him if he showed me some respect when I was small, but right now, I had no intension to believe him, but what else was I meant  to believe? The world changed since I was small, and the world believed that spirits existed, one of the biggest spirits was this name, Istmus. My husband started digging further into the case with me and we came up with a street name: Rosaline Street number 28. It did sound familiar to me, because it was the same house on the same street that I worked in for the lady that possessed the candle shop. But there was nothing wrong with the candle shop when I worked there, of course except for the little experience with the voice. I had no intentions to start working in that house again, but since it was the only way I could get the answers to my questions, I asked the owner if I could start working in her now “furniture shop.” It wasn’t the same owner as the one who owned the candle shop; she must have probably sold it. The new owner was really kind; she worked in her shop as well 24/7. The shop had changed in the storey. Everything else was different, but every time I was alone in the storey, I was scared; I knew I was definitively not alone.

Chapter 5

I didn’t even notice the days passing by in the next months. It all seemed to me like a huge stack of days that where just waiting to end and were going against me, they didn’t want me to realize what place I was in. My job was making me bored, nothing special ever happened. That was probably the worst part of my life. It’s just not me, I am not the person to sit around and do nothing. On the 28^th of November, it was a really spooky night. It was cold and the wind was blowing softly. Even though it was soft, the door kept on opening and closing, I didn’t understand that, the wind pressure was low, how could the door move?? I was pretty stressed that night because I spend time with my mother and that wasn’t a very clever idea. She just made it harder for me to survive throughout the day. I was working that day; I guess I stayed at the shop until 11.26p.m. That night, I just had bad luck. I had to prepare a table so it would be ready for the next day, but my hands were full of sweat that whenever I touched a glass it would fall and break. I broke 14 glasses, and then finally the owner joined me in the shop.

 She said, “Oh my dear, what are you doing? You know you shouldn’t be working at this time. You have already done so much for me. Why don’t you go downstairs and bring me some extra glasses. I will finish the rest by myself.”

Downstairs I found a box with glasses and took it off the shelf down to the table. I opened it just to check if the glasses were in good conditions. While I was opening the box, I heard a piece of light music coming from the back of the room. I heard the music before, it sounded like the music from one of my baby dolls that I lost while we were moving. This time I didn’t want to let go of the fact that I was with someone. Behind me was a hole in the wall covered with wood stacks and paper cartoons. I tried pulling them off but it didn’t work because they were fixed with glue, metal and everything you can imagine. I took the closest knife I found into my hand and just stabbed it right through the cartoons and wood. Slowly everything came off, and all I could see was black.

My left foot was in the hole, and slowly I forced my second foot into it as well. The only thing I had with me was a flash light. But it was barely working, so it didn’t help. The sealing was very close to the ground so I had to walk on my knees, it was very hard to breathe and I was under panic but I continued. I came to a spot where the room opened and I was finally able to walk again. Looking around I noticed a mirror, some boxes, a carpet full of dirt and a pair of glasses. The first thing I did once I entered was open the boxes, but there was no clue that something could be living here. In one box there was a sign saying: DO NOT ENTER. Was that taken off the wall from the path to here?? Why would Istmus be hiding in this place? Just in that second, I heard a smack and turned around. The mirror had been broken and millions of pieces were falling off. But there was no one in the room. You can’t see souls can you? This was probably one of them… Looking at me from my back was a man in a black coat, wearing a mask, and he had brown and white hair… a bit longer than usual man hair.

“Your dad is evil,” the man said, “you have to believe me. You don’t know him. I’m sorry for what I am going to do.”

“Leave him alone! Don’t touch him at all, I don’t know who you are you but I care for my father and am not going to let you kill him.”I shouted out loud and I could feel the tears coming down my cheek.   “Why do you even stay here?” That was the last thing I told him that night. He disappeared.

Chapter 6

I was excited by the time I got home and told Michael everything. He questioned people that admitted to know Istmus and they described him as: Tall man with white hair, thin and wears a mask. He used to be in prison and was meant to be set free after 3 years, but a fight happened and he killed a person. He was set to life in jail. One day he went outside and he was killed, he never came back. The information totally matched the black man I saw in the basement the previous night. The history of the world never really interested me, but the history of crime always did. Nobody dared to talk to me for the next oncoming days. But it’s not like I felt a special need to talk to anyone. Finally, after about a week my mum spoke to me, with a clear voice, and in my perspective, she was saying the truth. The truth! For the first time! It started like this:

“Mom! I need to know what’s going on, I mean it!”

“Sorry,” what a senseless answer, definitively not what you expect when you are in my situation, and definitively not from your mum.

 If I didn’t have Michael in my life, I have no clue what I would do. That night, he arranged a meeting with my mum at our apartment. Sometimes I wonder how it would have turned out if Michael wasn’t there. He was a strict man; he most probably inherited that from his job as a police man.  However, I was preparing dinner at about 8.00pm, to make sure my mother didn’t feel uninvited.

            The door bell rang, a slight chill overcame me. She was here, it was now or never.

Michael started the conversation, “Good afternoon Mrs. Johnson, I am guessing you know what you are here for. I can’t take the pain of your daughter. She is trying to help your husband, and you are ignoring her. I want you to speak the truth now!”

            “Michael... Dear…thank you, but I think I have to handle this. Mom, I can’t stand you, it’s true, but I don’t want to continue like this, can’t you see I can’t handle it anymore! I need you to tell me the truth.” I guess that fit the topic, it was the only thing I could think of.

            “Look, it’s not as easy as it seems, the story is long, but I’ve decided to tell you…” my mum answered.

            “It all started when I was 20. I met a man called Joseph, we were both in love, he was everything I had, and I never wanted anything more. Then at work, I met another man, Henry Johnson. When I looked at him, I knew I wanted him…but I had someone else, and no one was worth as much as Joseph. Eventually I told Henry about Joseph, he was madly in love with me, and got into a fight with Joseph. For no reason the police took Joseph into custody, I knew he wasn’t the bad guy, but the others didn’t. Since he was gone, I married Henry, your dad, well actually no, I am lying, he’s not your dad…3 years of Joseph wasn’t enough for me, I never gave up talking about him, until eventually Henry’s jealousy took over. The only news I ever got from Joseph was that he was going to be set free in 2 years. That changed, Henry hired another prisoner to kill Joseph, it didn’t work, Joseph killed him and was set to life in jail. The only thing he was allowed to do, was visit me every once in a year, that one night came. He was just going away, when I heard a scream from the front porch, it was him, he was killed. Believe it or not, you were watching him being killed, out of your window, you could see everything. Just after his death, I figured out he was called Istmus. They say he haunts Henry for that very reason. And the probably last thing I should tell you is that before Istmus went to jail, I got pregnant. Henry and I kept it to ourselves; we didn’t want others to find out. Both of us were really excited to be getting a baby, Istmus knows you’re his daughter, you were the last person we wanted to tell, but in the last years, Henry and I were having some problems, so I decided I should tell you.”

Chapter 7:

            I finally knew the truth. I couldn’t wait anymore, what would I wait for anyways? I had all the answers, and was finally able to go on with life. All that was on my mind was Henry, the man who killed my dad. There was definitively no more time for waiting, so I organized a meeting at Henries room in the hospital, just so I could have a quick chat to confirm if mums story was the truth.

            I knocked on his door…It was room number 134, one of the last doors in the hall. The door was pretty massive and black. I guess I could also describe it as a “creepy haunted door.” The door handle wasn’t even fixed to the door which was the first suspicious fact about the door. Second, there was a big crack at the top of the door where some smoke was coming out of. Finally after about 5 minutes of knocking, the door finally opened. There was smoke everywhere!

            “What on Earth did you do?!?!” I asked suspiciously.

            “Sarah dear, don’t pay attention to the smoke, that just came from the window, there is way too much pollution in the world!” He replied.

            How stupid can a person be? The window wasn’t even opened, and it was very clear that all the smoke came from the kitchen. But paying too much attention to that wouldn’t help. I took Henries hand and went to the Hospital garden. There we could talk more efficiently and the air was way better.

            “Mother told me everything, just as much as shocked I was, I was also very anxious to find out what your side of the story was. I know this may seem awkward, but I couldn’t stand the pressure anymore. I’ve been lied to my whole life, and Henry, I can’t believe you never told me you weren’t my dad.”

            “Sarah dear, I admit that it was a big mistake holding the whole story back from you. Now as a conclusion, I need to show you one more thing.”

            There I was, standing in front of the house that always seemed so familiar to me, it was my old working place, the house I spent practically every day in when I was small, and when I worked. Just like the previous owner, the new owner also abandoned the house; I guess they must have found something weird on it.

            “This dear, is the house you were born in, the house you spent a few years in… Your mum and I left the house once the divorcement was announced. Neither of us wanted to keep it because it reminded us of too many bad memories. And yes, I was the one to kill Istmus, or Joseph, whatever you prefer. Just one last thing before I take you inside, I don’t want you to be mad at me or anything, I still love you and always will, what happened is the past, but what’s about to come, will show us the future,” Henry then finally finished and we went in.

Chapter 8:

            My first memory while going in was running around those halls when I was small, but why did no one ever tell me this was my house? Because really, this was my house! It really was! It took a second to get a flash back from everything, my whole life. Henry started walking upstairs, not to be rude I followed him, actually no, I followed him because I felt like there was an invisible string pulling me towards him, I could go closer to him, but no further than 5 meters, that’s what it felt like. To be honest, I feel ashamed right now, all these years, I have never taken this house in consideration to have anything to do with me… On the upstairs left was a small room which was the only one I visited while Henry was with me, the last one I ever visited in that house.

            “I love this room, this is where I always feel happy, and then sad,” he continued, “the only thing left in this room is that broken mirror on the wall. This was your room.”

            “Why is that mirror broken?” I wondered.

            “Don’t you remember? Think about it, look outside the window, you will understand,” Henry finally responded.

            My left foot was moving, but my right just didn’t find the confidence to. But after a while I managed to pull it closer. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I looked outside. All the memories came back. I saw myself standing in the window as a 7 year old girl, mother was just kissing Istmus good-bye when she suddenly went in and Henry came out.  I could see the knife in his back hands, he was getting ready to attack, mum didn’t bother staying outside with the men, Henry said they needed time to speak things a bit through. It didn’t take long until the first scream came out. The knife was full of blood, and I saw Istmus on his knees covered in blood, definitively not the most pleasant thing to see as a 7 year old. That was the moment I felt something for Istmus, some love, I was full of anger that I threw a book at the mirror and it broke. That’s how it broke! I finally remembered the whole story.

Chapter 9:

            “Yes Sarah, you have it,” Like he knew what I was thinking about.

            “Istmus has always been here right? He never left the house, he was killed here and never had a way to escape, this is the only place he is safe in. Is that why when I was in the basement the mirror broke? Of course it is! Istmus was there, what I have I done? I never gave him a chance.” I talked with a sad and angry voice by then.

            “You have it, but daughter like father, has to die here… I can’t let you go away now, you know everything, I can’t trust you. You have to die,” Henry talked.

            I begged him to let me go, promised him I wouldn’t do anything, but what can you do to a person who is eager to kill? He just had it in his blood, the willingness to kill. His weight was about 89 kilos, compared to a 51 kilo person, there is no way I could have stopped him! First thing I felt were his hands around my neck, he was trying to suffocate me. I was losing breath, there was nothing to do. I don’t know what overcame me, but there was my idea, since Istmus was always in the house, he had to be in it this specific moment.

            “Dad! Dad! Please help me! Dad do something!” I shouted as loud as I could.

            Henry was the first to reply, “I am not your dad, you know that!”

            He was a complicated guy, but every comment needs an answer, “I am not talking about you Henry, I mean my dad!”

            That split second Henries hands dropped off me, and he looked pale like paper. It was him, my dad was here. His soul overcame evil for the first time! The next thing I saw was Henry falling down the stairs, I am pretty sure he didn’t do that for free will, and like any other person who falls down stairs, he died. That was a big relief, but what would the others say? I slowly walked towards the stairs and down. There was a soul standing right next to Henry. It was Istmus.

            “Dad! You saved me!” I screamed from joy, “why didn’t you tell me about everything, that you were my real dad!?”

            “You would have never believed me, I would have probably never have saved you, but when I heard you shout for me, your love was so strong I had to save you. Sarah I love you!” This was said by a fine, sweet but soft noise from Istmus.

            Now I knew the truth was told, that I succeeded, that I was safe. Who knows if Henries soul will ever come for me, but if it does, it will eventually have to go through my dad first.

            I met mum the next day, I told her about everything, she was graceful to hear the news. But what she probably like the most, was seeing Istmus again. Others could not see him; there was just something in my families blood that let us see ghosts. My dad never had the chance to see the white light, never had the will to go to heaven because he was protecting me, protecting us. Now he was finally ready to experience this moment. Mum would talk to him for ages if she could, but it’s not possible. Hugging and kissing was a big part of that night, lastly, he went away, into the white light, into safety, but whenever I tend to go into the house, I can feel him, I know he is there whenever I need him.

            This is what life means, to live, to have fun and to discover. I think I experienced all of these, and also death. No matter what’s going to happen next, I know I have a loving family who is always there for me, but mostly, I have a life. I have the life I have always been waiting for, the willingness to live, and the truth that helps me survive every day. I have a family.

Grammar

Isn't grammar boring? So many words and nothing else. That's not true. English is a very hard subject, you have to admit that, but there is a more fun way of learning than just studying. This would be games. The basic things you should know from grammar is the punctuation and some parts of speech. This is a website that my class used to learn parts of speech: http://www.chompchomp.com/ 
It might seem like too many words, but it will be just fine.
Some games for plural nous you might want to visit are:
http://www.softschools.com/language_arts/la_games.jsp
http://www.softschools.com/language_arts/grammar/noun/balloon_game/
http://www.ezschool.com/Games/Nouns.html If you are having problems with adjectives, look at these:
http://www.ezschool.com/Games/Adjectives.html
http://www.bbc.co.uk/skillswise/words/grammar/interestsentences/adjectives/game.shtml
Verbs are doing words and some games that will help you remember this are:
http://www.softschools.com/language_arts/grammar/verb/balloon_game/
http://www.4kids.org/games/
Interjections and Conjunction:
http://languagearts.pppst.com/conjunctions-interjections.html
http://www.quia.com/cb/56972.html
SO after all, I hope now you know

Poetry

  Ever wondered what how to express your feelings? Ever heard of poetry? If not, then you certainly should.
  "There are as many definitions of poetry as there are poets. Wordsworth defined poetry as "the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings;" Emily Dickinson said, "If I read a book and it makes my body so cold no fire ever can warm me, I know that is poetry;" and Dylan Thomas defined poetry this way: "Poetry is what makes me laugh or cry or yawn, what makes my toenails twinkle, what makes me want to do this or that or nothing." These are some quotes from famous people telling what poetry is to them. There are many different poetry types, for example: couplets, cinquain and free verse. In my words, poetry is a way to describe your feelings, and a stack of words that don't even have to have a meaning. They might not make sense to you, but to the writer they certainly do. Poetry doesn't have to rhyme, it only has to be seen by others. When I write a poem, I write whatever I want to write about. Sometimes that is probably the hardest part about writing. Writing poems is definitively not my favorite, and I am not even that good at it, I prefer writing essays and paragraphs but writing poems is something that belongs to life.
One important fact you should always remember, is that poetry has its poetic devices. These include:
Alliteration: the repetition of initial sounds
Assonance: The repetition of vowel sounds
Imagery: Words or phrases that appeal to any sense or any combination of senses
 Metaphor: a comparison between two objects: is or was
Meter: The recurrence of a pattern of stressed and unstressed syllables
Onomatopoeia: The use of words which imitate sound
Personification: A figure of speech which endows inanimate objects with human traits
Point of view: the way its seen, 1st 2nc or 3rd person
Repetition: the repeating words, phrases,lines or stanzas
Rhyme: The similarity of ending sounds existing between two words
Stanza: a grouping of two or more lines of a poem in the terms of length, metrical form, or rhyme scene.
Simile: A comparison between two objects using a specific word or comparison such as : like,as or than.
So practically Poetic devices are just little things a poem could have but doesn't have to have all.
One of my favorite poems is called Forever and Always

All the bullies coming my way
Getting teased every single day.
Boy do they have nerve,
But I still wonder, is this really what I deserve?

But I was little then,
I just took it all in.
I let them say what they wanted to say,
It wasn't my problem anyway.

All through elementary without a real friend,
Just hoping that wasn't how it would end.
High school came along soon enough,
I guess everyone just grew up.

There was one person who stood out of the crowd
She was like my little sis,
She made me so proud.

But my world got twisted around,
I felt like I couldn't make a sound.
The relationship with my one true friend,
was about to come to an abrupt end.

She was going through so much,
Her good friends losing all her trust.
They'd make fun of her in every way,
Just like they did back in my day.

The way some girls tore her apart,
It completely broke my heart.
To see her get so sad,
made me outrageously mad.

They put her through hell and back
I just kept telling her, that,
"You need to forget about them,
They were never your true friends."

She knew it was true
but could never follow through.
She let them walk all over her again and again,
I was afraid her heart would soon melt.

She does not deserve this, neither did I.
I tell her again and again, I really do try.
I want her to be happy, to be free.
Then maybe I'd be able to leave her peacefully.

She's afraid to be alone, I would be too.
But I know she would be able to pull through.
She is stronger than I will ever be,
That is what I wish she could see.

I try to be that steady person in her life,
To be the only one who doesn't cut her like a knife.
A 1000 miles away, she'll always be in my heart.
I just wish she could make a new start.

When you see me I may look fine,
But every time you turn away I cry.
Leaving you is something I could never do.
And saying goodbye, never to you.

Our time as friends was so little,
but my love for you will never dwindle.
You are more than my little sister,
Just know I'll always miss you!

I got this poem from :

http://www.familyfriendpoems.com/friend/poetry.asp?poem=22570#ixzz1C46VjQ00

I chose this as my favorite poem because it kind of has links to my life, and describes how I feel some times. This poem has many rhymes but also makes sense and uses advanced  words. So after all, I hope you now understand more about poems, and go on, make your own!
http://contemporarylit.about.com/od/poetry/a/poetry.htm

Creative Writing Activity

Butter

Ever thought what it would be to be a butter? Read on and find out!
My life is more adventurous than you can think. Being wrapped in an aluminum foil is not the best place for breathing. But who am I kidding? I don’t need to breathe! I come out in all shapes and my best ingredient is milk. I can’t even count how many siblings I have, you would be dead by the time I finished counting. But I bet no one’s life is like mine. It’s already unbelievable I am able to communicate with you; your language is totally different to the one I am used to. See, before I tell you anything, you should know that there are a certain amount of stages butter goes through. And sorry, my name is Bee Butter. In my words, I am not a child, but compared to you, my whole population is miniature. Understand one thing, there are advanced butters, and butters like me. Don’t think you are the only ones with educational systems; ours are pretty much the same. Except for one little detail, our life depends on our luck. We don’t see white light when we die; we feel a little pain usually in our stomachs, because that’s how the machines lay us down into the paper. Butter is pretty squash able, but when we do get squashed, you might assume we die, but actually no, we don’t. Let me tell you a bit about my life.

“Good morning sunshine! Oh wait, how come am I speaking?”My first sign I was born. Plump, I dropped on a hard surface facing up. To my left were some big yellow stacks of butter. But I wasn’t fixed, I was moving forward and forward. I fell asleep right after I fell, it was too much for me, I was tired. I woke up the next day, finding myself standing like a soldier in the desert, surrounded by other bystanders. I was smashed together with the others, I remember the awful smell of sweat, it was just disgusting. Across the shelf I was placed in, was the milk. After staying in the shop for about a month or so, I found out I was located in the Mercator supermarket. But I was a baby back then, I had no idea what I was or for what I was used for, I didn’t know that the market is all about danger. One night, the lights went off, but it was not like usual, it wasn’t 10 yet…I heard random noises coming from all sides, and suddenly a hand reaches out for me and some other ingredients. How can it see me? It’s dark! Being stuffed into a bag was very hard because I was pretty sure I would fall to the bottom, at least that’s what I was told, but this time I was just placed down and was holding my balance making sure not to fall out of the bag. The mysterious man, who “stole” me and the others from the shop, had a huge house with a great kitchen. In my words, the kitchen was extraordinary; never in my life did I see something that gorgeous. I didn’t understand one thing though, why did he wear gloves whenever he was in the kitchen? I was taken out of the shop pretty early, so I didn’t know anything about health but had some idea. First of all, I thought that he forgot to take the gloves off after he came from the garden. His whole day was based on the garden, which was weird at first but after living in his house I discovered he was a gardener and needed the gloves to make sure he doesn’t get affected by any germs or tiny insects. HE was like my best friend, it might sound weird at first, but really, he would talk to me every day. He was the best singer I ever knew, his voice was just great! Unfortunately I was separated from him when I was about 3 years old. That is a lot for a butter, we died when people, animals or anything eats us. That’s not how I died, or was about to die. A huge earthquake happened in 2005, this day was probably the saddest one in my life. My owner immediately took me and all the other foods into a bag and started running out of the house into the city. If his house would have been built better, we probably wouldn’t have had to run off. Anyways, while he was running, a small whole opened in his bag, it was very minute, but big enough for me to fall through. You don’t really notice anything when a butter falls to the floor, and that’s exactly what happened here. I was on the floor, lying there while an earthquake was happening. Believe it or not, I wasn’t in panic, but the scariest part of all, was that cars where moving around me. Talking about danger in the market, that was nothing compared to this. When the earthquake finished and I was finally in peace, a little girl ran around the streets and found me lying there. I’m not sure if her mum was very happy to see her running into the backyard with me in her hands. I was starting to melt, but she was so joyful there was no way I could fade away. Sometimes little kids are unbelievable, this little girl got her mum to make a whole in the wall and add cold air, something like a refrigerator except that there was a glass miniature door separating me from her. I will never forget her. By now, they probably already moved out of the house. Honestly, I can’t wait to die now, I am still hidden behind that glass door which is not covered with a wall. The new owners didn’t see a reason of why seeing a butter in the wall. That little girl changed my life, she is my hero, my friend but mostly my everything. Because of her, I had a real life, because of her I am what I am. But now it’s time to go. I bet everyone has a hero in their life, and my hero, is probably somewhere around you. You don’t know her, but she knows me. 

Reflection

Doing my book report about the book Bridge to Terabithia I learned how to write with more descriptive words. This assignment was required for Language A, in November. As you can see from my book report which is in the post under, I have included a setting,theme,plot,characters,the purpose,about the author and my resources. I decided to do my book report on this book because I thought it was an exciting book that shows you how to use your imagination and it is written with a purpose. This book might seem boring at first but I thought that as you know what is happening the story gets more interesting. To the story there is also a film and you can watch that one as well and then compare the differences from the book and the film.After all, this was an exciting report for me because I learned new words and discovered a new way of writing responses.