My Work

I know this sounds boring, but please stick with me. This section is for my papers that I've written for my online classes, or my school books. Some best. But others are happy, sad, humorous... So please check them out!

Fractured Fairy Tale~ Sleeping Beauty

I wrote this story for my Composition class, so please look past all the asterisks that exist throughout the document, and the list of requirements at the end of the document. To those of you who do not know what a Fractured Fairy Tale is: It is a story based on a well-known fairy tale, but the revised version is supposed to have humor, a change of characters and plot line, etc. In one word, it's supposed to be fractured! So, without further ado, here's my document!
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This is an ode I dedicated to Shakespeare! It's not perfect; there are some wording mistakes.




                                          Humorous Ode to Bath Salts

                      (In Memory and Mocking of Shakespeare)



The dearest creation of man, thy sweetness divine

I wish thy scented loveliness were always mine

Thou come in a plethora of colors, shapes, and smells

Thy sweet singing and calling to me rings like bells

 Thou fizz, bubble, and pop when thou hittest the boiling water

Thou sinkest with the current, descending to the bottom of the porcelain basin

Oh, to see your beauty fade!

Thou must be just so afraid!

I suppose your short life will end

So I will always your loveliness do defend


Limericks and Haiku:


The gull screamed in happy delight

And gave the poor tourists a fright

Their iced tea they splashed

As they jumped in a flash

Then the gull innocently took flight




I am sore from my face to my toes

I am surely the hue of a rose

I had the dumb notion

To go without lotion

And now I am filled with great woes




Today as I walked to the store

I saw many palm trees galore

Blue sky up above

In the state that I love

Makes me wish my vacation weren’t o’er




Haiku- Beach Sadness



Little Black Skimmer       (a bird in Florida)

Alone, afraid, alarmed

Where is his family?



Part of Speech Poem

The Stallion

Regal and Proud

Running and Leading

Chaser of the wind




Sense of Time Poem




Winter is white

The color of snow and marshmallows

Winter feels like cold hands and toasty fires

It sounds like the rushing of sleds and the laughter of children

It smells like hot chocolate and evergreen trees

Winter tastes like cold snowflakes

Winter is the thick and peaceful silence that comes only once a year


Blessing in Nazareth. This is in letter/diary format.

                     Blessings in Nazareth



Dear Cousin Elizabeth,


I have great news to share with you!  Today, as I was coming home from helping Aunt Martha grind the grain, my mother met me at the door.  She told me the exciting news that I would be marrying a man named Joseph!  He is a local carpenter, and quite a few years older than me.  I have noticed that he is a kind man, and I pray to Yahweh that He will bless us with as wonderful a marriage as you and Zechariah have!  I cannot wait until I visit you next month, and hear the wonderful news that you insist on keeping a secret!


May Yahweh bless and guide you!


Your loving Cousin, Mary



Dear Diary,


It has been almost a month now since I wrote to Elizabeth, but I have extraordinary news!  I cannot tell anyone in my village for fear that they will stone me.  I am with child!  Me, Mary of Nazareth!  I know that this sounds horrible, for I am engaged to Joseph, but let me record the details of how I found this out.  I was in my room packing to visit Elizabeth.  I had to pack my special outer tunic that is the prettiest shade of light blue.  I even packed my belt that was a birthday present from my mother.  All of a sudden, a bright light flashed behind me!  I whirled around, and there before my eyes, was a man.  But when I took a second glance, I realized that he was not a man, but one of Yahweh’s messengers!  He addressed me by saying my name, and he told me not to be afraid.  He said that I had found favor in the eyes of Yahweh, and that I would give birth to a son, and name him Jesus.  The angel even prophesied that my son Jesus would reign over the house of Jacob forever, and be the son of the Most High!  Once I found my voice, I asked him when and how this would happen, because I was still a virgin.  He said the most amazing thing!  He told me that I would have this child through the power of the Most High, and that even Elizabeth was to have a child!  I must leave to visit my cousin right away and tell her with what favor Yahweh has looked upon me!



Dear Cousin Elizabeth,


I am writing this at Aunt Hadassah’s home.  I had to tell you how much I enjoyed visiting you, and I especially enjoyed hearing baby John’s first cry!  I still thrill to think how he leapt inside you when you first heard my voice.  Thank you so much for all your encouragement, and I pray that little John will have an extraordinary life as a servant to Yahweh!  I will be arriving home in two days, and I must tell Joseph of all that has happened.  My condition is not noticeable yet, but I thank you greatly for the large tunic you gave me.  I miss you already!


Your cousin, Mary


Dear Diary,


There have been many things that have happened since I arrived home.  As I was walking along the path to my home with Joseph, I tripped on a rock, and whispered, “The baby!”  It was so horrible to see Joseph stiffen and back away after he picked me up off the ground.  I was afraid that he would shout to the whole village that I was going to have a baby, as my cousin James did to my friend Sarah.  But all Joseph did was back away, mumbling the excuse that his apprentice needed some help.  I lived in fear for three days, having nightmares of being stoned.  But on the fourth day, Joseph came to me to say that an angel had visited him in a dream telling him that I was going to have a baby through the Holy Spirit, and that my son would be called Immanuel, which means “God with us”.  I was filled with joy!  Joseph told me that he would officially marry me, and that he would take care of me and would raise the child as his own.  Praise to Yahweh for his mercy and kindness!


This is a paper I wrote for my Composition class recently. It's about my grandfather who passed away in 2006. Sorry the spacing is weird; I couldn't find a way to fix it. The link to 4 pictures of my grandpa are on the page 'My Life'.



My grandpa, Samuel, was always there for me. One of the most noticeable things about him was his scratchy, grey goatee. My grandpa gained a round belly when he got older, which made me want to hug him even more. He had such a nice voice, especially his laugh, which would flow out of him. Dad-Dad had a great sense of humor, because it’s hard to live in our family without one. I loved his twinkling brown eyes, which welcomed me or cried with me, depending on my emotions. He was like a big bear, physically and emotionally. My grandpa always full of life, had a temper. Sadly, that temper runs throughout the family, and is not known for being carefully restrained. Although he was often seen with a cigar in his mouth, he never really smoked, but was satisfied with just chewing it. As he aged, he became mad that he could not run and chase after kids or dogs as he used to.  But he always found the time to ease onto the ground and garden with his only grandchild. One of the things we would do was “cook” with Play-doh. He was an amazing chef, with lumps of Play-doh and with real food. He loved the fact that I had an abundance of freckles, because from his point of view, it proved to strangers that I had some Irish blood, just like him. Before I was born, he bred collies and entered them in dog shows. He even won money and ribbons from some of them.  Bouncing with joy, our terrier mix would ecstatically welcome him when he visited our home. Loved by all our relatives, Sam would easily become the center of attention. He “pulled” quarters out of kids’ ears, and even deigned to teach me that trick, but only when I got older, of course. Every year my mom and I would meet my “Dad-Dad” and “Mom-Mom” in Florida, and the biggest event of all was to squeeze oranges. I would sit on his lap, my hands over his, and hold the half of an orange over the cup-shaped wheel. We agreed that our orange juice was the sweetest orange juice we had ever tasted. He was not good at fixing things, but he created and “built” my first bookcase, which was made out of cardboard. My grandpa liked to take me riding in an old, red wagon of his. The usual route was around the neighborhood to his sister Cathy’s house and back. One time, we picked up a plastic kiddie pool from Aunt Cathy’s, and the only way to take it back home was over my head. A photo of the event showed up in the town’s newspaper the next week. He would often pull the newspaper clipping from a stack of papers and show it to whoever was visiting us at the time. His prized possession was his beautiful silver Cadillac, which always drove smoothly for him. I loved him very much. When he died, we all felt devastated. Yet the world went on. My family still goes to Florida every year. But the tradition of squeezing oranges ended, my interest in gardening stopped, and mysteriously, the silver Cadillac stopped running as it used to. The only things I have of his are a couple of his old sweatshirts and ties and his voice saying hello on an answering machine. But that’s okay. Because the Lord has given me wonderful memories of Dad-Dad. And, after all, my Heavenly Father will provide for us today and forever after.

This is another paragraph I wrote for my Comp. class. The assignment was to describe an object. Sorry if it's a little fanciful...
                                                                 Piano Memories

I have seen many long years pass by, whirling like the sands of time. Many people have touched my keys, all with different backgrounds, personalities, and stories. Over time, my beautiful mahogany exterior has been covered in dust, shutting my world into darkness, my music silent. My lid closed, and I stayed mute for decades. But one day, the creaking lid opened and all the dust was wiped off of my ebony woodwork. The sunlight that I had been yearning for leaped and danced around my ivory keys, and someone small sat down to play. I have watched this human child grow from a toddler banging on my keys, to an adult with graceful fingers, who has learned how to use my notes to move others. Someday, my lid will bang down, covering my world into darkness yet again, but for today, I will enjoy the laughter of children, the feel of sunlight, and the joy my music brings to others.


This is a simply humorous guide I wrote for school. In actuality, I had a problem while staying at the Hyatt Regency with my Homeschool group while in Boston, so I needed to ask my mom, (who was the tour leader). Even though it was past our curfew. No harm done. So, no, I did not 'break the law', and neither do I plan to. : )                          

 How to Sneak Around the Hyatt in 8 Easy Steps.....                          
1. Grab a friend to bring along. After all, it's a learning experience.                           
2. Wear dressy clothes.                                                    
3. Walk confidently.                                                   
  4. Don't be afraid to strut or do a head toss when passing a guard. : )                          
 5. Remember, if stopped to say, "I have an important question to ask my                                   tour leader." (Who, is my case, was my mom.)                          
 6. Always remember to wave and smile at the security guard!                           
7. Remember, you have to be noticeable, but not so far as to stand out in                                  the guard's memory.                                                

 To end on a safe note:                          
 8. Do not disobey your parents or do anything against the law! (Or do                                        anything stupid!

 This was an essay I wrote for my Composition class. It had to follow multiple guidelines which I attached below. 


The storm was fast approaching.  The coppery smell in the air was one of numerous indicators.*  The cool wind was tangling my hair, lifting it higher into the darkening sky.*  Standing on the hilltop overlooking the gentle, grassy slope below, I waited in anticipation for the oncoming gale.*  I smelled the pungent air, and
grinned with satisfaction. (1) The storm was almost here.  Quietly I closed my eyes to feel and hear more acutely. (3) The wind danced around my body finally landing playfully to rustle through the long, green grass.*  The still watchfulness was what attracted me to come outside.  Along the mountain, I knew that I would see grey-tinged clouds hovering, as if waiting for something, something quickly advancing.* (2) Rumbling from far off, the drumming approached. (4) The thunder, which sounded at first like the calming purr of a kitten, came closer, and then the reverberation seemed like the angry, ferocious roar of a lion.*  The cows, ________ _____ grazing in a nearby pasture, started to bellow because of the sudden din.  While all of this took place, I noticed that the stormy thunderclouds seemed to be gliding nearer. (5) The moment, which I had been waiting for, had arrived.  All I could hear was the resonance of the whirlwind.  The tempest hit. (6) With a sudden flash, lightning struck over the green western mountains.*  The rain started to whip across my face with a ferocity that matched the howling of the wind.*  This was the moment I had been waiting for. The sense of God’s power unmatched by any human force took my breath away.  Satisfied, I slowly walked to the house, where I knew a warm towel would be waiting for me. (7) As I looked out the freshly-washed window, I saw the pounding force of rain turn into a gentle mist, and then slowly melt away as the sun swept out from behind a now white cloud.*  The storm had gone, and in its place was only a gentle reminder: one solitary, beautiful rainbow. 

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 I wrote this for school as a creative writing assignment.  I thought this was a funny topic to write about.               

                                               Cabins are Useless                                                     

Imagine walking in a tropical paradise with the sound of waves lapping against the sand just around the next bend. Or imagine taking a tour through the majestic tundra filled with glistening snow and dark evergreens. Now, imagine a dingy, old, wooden cabin plopped in the middle of nowhere, with no indoor plumbing, and your only companions a skunk and some daddy-longleggers. If you could choose one place to vacation all expense paid, would you ACTUALLY pass up the tropical paradise?! Let's hope not. Here are my well-founded reasons for hating cabins:      

 1. Cabins are Primitive
I don't get it! People leave their nice, technology-filled homes, to 'vacation' in a dust-filled, dirty, primitive cabin! A 'real' cabin, (I have been informed) is a place where you go to relax and stay in touch with God and nature. Well, I'd stay better in touch with God in my house, where there is running water and heat. And staying 'in touch' with nature? Psh... That's what I have windows for!       

2. Questionable Plants
Visualize taking a scenic walk in the woods, listening to birds, seeing flowers, smelling the enlivening air, when all of a sudden you step in a patch of pretty, pointy-leaf green leaves. You bend down to examine them closer, but remember all the times you have been warned about poison ivy. What should you do? How do you identify the plant? Guide books don't help, because what you are currently standing in cannot be duplicated in a drawing. It could be a poisonous plant! How can you tell? When you start itching!        

3. Things Could Be in the Trees Ready to Drop on Me
This may sound silly but I'm dead serious. Picture this: You're walking under a tree, when all of a sudden, you walk into this STICKY substance, and something suspiciously furry drops on your head. What is it?! A spider innocently sitting in it's web. Or at least, it was until you RUDELY bumped into it. On a scientific note, many varieties live in trees. But apparently, I'm the only one who attracts them.               

I know that my dislike for cabins is highly irrational, but, who knows? Maybe someday I'll be lost in the woods and HAVE to stay in one!!

This was a book report about 'Johnny Tremain' by  Esther Forbes that I had to write for Creative Writing.

Johnny Tremain’s life was perfect. Until the accident that ‘ruined’ all his plans and dreams for the future. Fourteen year old Johnny Tremain was an arrogant apprentice silversmith. He was good at his job, something he daily reminded the other apprentices.  Boston in 1773 was a flourishing town, a place where being a silversmith could earn a lot of money. But then, everything changed. On a Sunday morning, Johnny slipped outside to finish his work on a sliver cup that was supposed to be done on Monday for a rich gentleman. But Johnny faced a choice, should he pass up the job, or should he fix the silver cup on a Sunday, the one day of the week that people weren’t allowed to work? One of the other apprentices snuck up on him, and Johnny’s thumb got molded to his palm by molten silver. The accident happened to his right hand, the hand that he relied on for his dream to become a master silversmith. Sadly, he did not go to a professional doctor, but to midwives who barely knew their business. His master kicked him out of the house because he could not work. Johnny could not find a job or a place to sleep, because, after all, who would want a handicapped person to work for them, when they could easily get a healthy person?*  While wandering the streets, Johnny met a boy named Rab who was a few years older then him. Rab took him home and gave him food. Soon, Johnny became less arrogant and became more caring. And then, the War for Independence started. Johnny and Rab did as much as they could to help the Patriots. And, in the end, Rab sacrificed his life for the cause, and Johnny found a professional doctor who could heal his hand. Johnny Tremain aged from fourteen at the beginning of the book, to sixteen at the end of the book.

The theme of this book was about freedom. Many men and women sacrificed their lives for the freedom, of their children, grandchildren, and later descendants. Yet we misuse that freedom. People in other countries are even dying for their freedom today. Even though ‘Johnny Tremain’ is a work of fiction, there can still be many lessons learned. I challenge you today to help those fighting for freedom. Whether that is to pray for people, raise money for a charity, or send letters of encouragement, I am sure God would be pleased.

* That is not my personal opinion.