Tag: project

Recently, in my English class, we read the House of Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros, a book which is filled with vignettes. Each chapter is written in the style of a vignette, some short and some long. Based on this book and the writing style of Sandra Cisneros, our project was to create 5 vignettes, about anything we wanted. Here are some of my favorites!

The Track:

Walking alone through the grass, my jacket dragging behind me. A group of friends rushes past me, leaving only a breeze behind, causing me to shiver and dig deeper into my jacket. But I can’t get warm again. A red table, filled with teachers, watches me carefully. I know they like me, that they want me to play and have fun. I smile at them and move on, the smile dropping as soon as I move out of range. As I walk to the edge of the field, the blades of grass slicing my ankles as quickly as a sharpened knife, the sight of a friend catches my eye. Refuge.
As I bound across the grass, they disappear, leaving only a blank spot where they were standing. Were they ever there? Or did they choose to leave me behind? The track around the field is wide, boundless, but it is my only friend, the only one who stays with me as I carve wide roads into it recess after recess. The only one who cares even a little. The only one who is mine.
Yet as an older girl runs across the track with her friends, I’m reminded, yet again, of the fact that I’m alone, lonely, surrounded with no one except the cold wind, whipping through the air, rustling the trees.
I scan the playground, catching my friends laughing together- Aurelia, Maliha, Zoe playing family and Saveri and Selena chasing each other. And yet, none of them look at me. Was it me? Did I do something wrong? Do they wish I were cast down to the deepest depths of Tartarus?
The fluffy fleece jacket, lined with faux fur, does nothing to prevent the sting of the wind combined with the sting of betrayal.
And so I walk, alone, lonely, hoping next recess, my friends won’t desert me again.

An Idea of Love:

Birthdays. Cakes, gifts, presents. The spoken words, “Happy Birthday!”, faded to a dull note as they are uttered by person after person, year after year. 

Birthdays have never been incredible in my life. I’ve brought cookies, cupcakes I’ve baked, to receive nothing more than a 
“Thank you!”
or a 
“Happy birthday!”

This year, though. I’m the one being brought the cookies and cupcakes, the one being treated to the perfect blend of sugar on sugar. The one who gets celebrated, the one whose birthday is today.

And I’ve never felt more loved than in the moment. My friends around me. Their gifts piling high in my hands, a sugar high already making its way to my brain. And I couldn’t care less, because now I have an idea of love, of happiness, of what it actually feels like to be loved and have people who care about you.

Would it be wrong of me to expect this every year? Or will it all fall away to nothing just as quickly as it built up?

Watch with me:

Is it too much to ask to want to watch the sunset with someone? Watch the giant ball of gas in the sky sink down into the grass and watch the moon come up, two total opposites, yet somehow taking up the whole sky?

I want to watch the stars go up with someone by my side. Someone who cares, who matters. Someone who, like me, wants nothing more than to watch those stars, those flaming, flickering stars. Built out of nothing more than hydrogen and helium, yet thriving. Thriving on their own in an ecosystem of space, of planets and comets and asteroids and meteors and beauty.

Why can’t we be like that? 

Look up with me at the sunset, the stars and just stay. That’s all I need. That would be enough.

I hope you liked my vignettes! If you could write a vignette, what would it be about?