April Featured Writers are Blooming!!

 

Go check them out!  Don't forget to comment thoughtfully, positively, and specifically, on at least three pieces this month. :)

 

 http://lilliemcferrin.com/five-sentence-fiction-flowers/

" Coachella" by Matt K.

             
The good month of April not only brings us Easter and amazing spring weather, it also brings us one of the most important weekends in music and art, Coachella. Coachella is a three day music and arts festival located on the huge Empire Polo Club in sunny Indio. It hosts hundreds of artists from a multitude of genres on 7 unique stages. The sounds are so diverse that you can welcome noon with indie, catch the sunset while listening to some hip hop, and end your night by dancing your face off to a DJ spinning the freshest electronic dance music.

Even though Coachella provides a high class production and musical lineup, its top characteristic is the atmosphere the festival creates. From the start you are surrounded by thousands of friends you have never met before and are immersed in a liberating setting that frees yourself from all of your troubles back home. When you’re at Coachella nothing else matters except for the music, the people, and the great vibes. Stepping onto the polo grounds is like stepping into a new world, there’s no predicting what you will encounter. 

 

Now that you’ve received a little whiff of what Coachella is about I’m going to briefly walk you through how to get the most out of your own Coachella experience.

Music

With so many artists on the bill and so little time to catch them all, planning your personal Coachella lineup may seem a little intimidating. A good place to start is to highlight your must see artists and take note of the artists that you’ve never heard of but might seem interesting (the ones with cool names), so you can research them before the festival. Since there are artists playing simultaneously on different stages you will have to eliminate some of your conflicting favorites, unless you can be in two places at once. Once you’ve sorted your conflicts and have a general road map of your weekend you will notice that you have a lot of empty time and space to fill. This space can be used to charge your phone, sleep, eat, or explore the grounds.

Where to Stay

Coachella isn’t complete without camping. It’s what gives the festival its iconic modern Woodstock feel. There are many different ways you can camp at Coachella: RV, car & tent, VIP lodging, and tepees. The most common way to stay on site is car camping. This option grants you a 10 by 30 foot spot in which you can park your car and set up a tent or two. Even though many opt for camping, others choose to stay at hotels located around the festival. The only downside to this option is that walking to your car so you can drive back to your hotel is a mission after you spending over 12 hours at the festival.

General Tips

·      SUNSCREEN IS A MUST!

 

·      Stay hydrated. The typical weather for the festival is around 100 degrees during the day so be sure to get a drink at a water station scattered throughout the festival.

·      Roam around the grounds often. Coachella offers a multitude of art installation and is a hot spot for celebrity guests. You never know who you may run into.  

                 

·      Talk to anyone and everyone, they’re all friendly and have interesting stories to share.

·      Don’t miss the sunset.

·      Enjoy yourself.

Thanks for reading!

“Looking for change” by Trevor R

I could feel the skin being torn away from my body as I made contact with the turf. The smell of
rubber burning in the scorching heat of the summer day filled my nose. As I recovered from the tackle I
heard one of my opponents mumble something under their breath.
“What did you say?”, I asked him.
He repeated “Tu eres un negro estupido! Este no es tu deporte!”
Although I did not completely understand what he said, I knew the history behind the use of
the harsh term “negro.” I was immediately aware that he was not complimenting me. So I asked again.
“What did you say?”He replied in English, “Why are you here? This ain’t your sport! Go home
to your familia and eat a banana, monkey.”
I was being classified as a monkey because of the color of my skin. An animal. This is
what my grandfather had experienced throughout his daily life walking to school, going to the store, or even using the restroom. He was threatened, called “nigger”, “negro”, “boy” and “colored”. He had to be aware of where he was and who he was with, what he said and who he said it to, what sports he played and who he played because of the color of his skin. Now I was experiencing this for myself; I was hurt.

How was I supposed to react to his attack? Show him “who’s boss” by giving him a shiner on
his left eye, or ignore it and let it slide? I could beat his team to show him I was not a ‘negro’ that ate
bananas, but rather a well educated human being who was black and played soccer well. One among
many, including great black soccer players like Maurice Edu, Mario Balotelli, and Jozy Altidore. But
would that change a thing?
This is racism. And now I realize, this is what I experience when I walk into a gas station and
the store clerk follows me to see that I do not steal anything. This is what I experience when I walk into a supermarket and people are looking at me like I am going to cause trouble. This is my experience.
But I’m not the only one. My two Arab friends who are hijabies, or Muslim women who wear a
scarf in public, also experience racial discrimination. They tell stories of hearing racist comments such as“terrorists” and “They have a bomb!” One of them told me, “Sometimes I just want to take it off so thatI won’t have to go through these things anymore. I am tired of people being ignorant and thinking that I am a terrorist.”

I don't think trying to erase who you are is the answer. The person who inflicted this attack on
me was Latino. In one way or another, he has probably experienced racism. Maybe he has also been
followed by a store clerk or called some of the names I have heard thrown around school such as,
“wetback” or “beaner”. It is likely we have both been the victims of prejudice.
Racism is not my problem, it’s our problem. People of color should be facing this
problem together, but we are too busy fighting each other. Why?
Are we afraid to discover we are more similar than we want to acknowledge? Are we
afraid of giving up what we think we know? Are we afraid to learn that it is larger than slurs, stares, and everyday prejudice?
We can no longer be afraid. We cannot ignore or avoid racism. It is part of our history, our
country, our schools, our daily lives. I plan to continue developing my understanding of this oppression and others. I want to listen to people’s experiences, learn to find solidarity in our shared struggles, sothat one day, that other soccer player and I, can work together to change all of our lives.
Disclaimer: Not to offend any readers, only to influence change.

"The Color of Love" by Tamsin T

My heart continued to race long after silence fell once more upon my room. Isaac had slipped out of my window hours before, when the screaming turned into throwing and the throwing became a gun. I scratched at my arm idly as I stared at the door. I knew my father wouldn’t return tonight, but still I was unable to avert my eyes. I never truly believed he would understand because I knew how he felt about people of color. But, he’s my father, and I had the utmost faith in him because of that.

The floor by the door creaked and a dark shadow appeared beneath the crack. My body tensed as I squeezed the hem of my shirt. The shadow stood there for so long that I thought I would suffocate. My heart hammered away in my chest as a tear rolled silently down my face. Seconds later, the shadow moved away, allowing me to take a long, shuddering breath. I wondered briefly how much time had passed at that point. I had no recollection of minutes to hours or seconds to days because after my father pulled out his gun, my world stopped and my mind went blank. I bleakly remember Isaac screaming for me to hide and myself begging for my dad to stop, to understand. Everything moved in slow motion after that; my father wildly tearing through my room, Isaac defending himself from flying objects and deafening blows, my mother downstairs, my mother cleaning the dishes, my mother closing the door, my mother doing nothing.

When my breathing had steadied, my body felt numb with sleep and exhaustion. I peeled my eyes away from the door and began fiddling with my cell phone. It could have been five minutes or maybe fifty when it sent vibrations through my arm. I jolted upright and flipped it open to find a single text message from Isaac. Tears stung my eyes and sobs racked my body as I read:

We need to leave… to run away together. I don’t want you living there, not with those people. We’ll buy a small house together or a big house or whatever you want. I can’t live in a world where you’re not smiling everyday, every moment of your life. I love you Kath and I’m so sorry things turned out the way they did.

I knew I would never regret the decision I made that day. Isaac was everything to me and he always had been. I thought of grabbing a bag and filling it with necessities, but I decided it was time to let go completely. I left my entire life behind and never once glanced back. I placed a small note in the center of my pillow so that maybe one day they might understand why I left:

            “Laundry is the only thing that should be separated by color.”

"Enjoy the Ride" by Neha Q

Hello!

If you’re a senior reading this, let me start off by saying that I’m proud of you for not being overcome with “senioritis” and still doing your blog comments, welcome.

As the weather gets hotter and the school year winds down, we all know what that means. Graduation. Summer. College. Seniors wishing for the year to be over and become independent at last. Others holding on to their last few moments of supposedly “the best four years of their life.” Soon enough everything will change. But that’s not always a bad thing. Common exchanges of looks between these people you’ve known for years will be gone. We can’t control time and it’s going by so fast. Yet why do so many people wish these precious moments of their lives away?

On social media, and in actuality, all I see are people complaining. More people focus on the negative than on the positive. We never live in the moment. Even if you aren’t aware of it, everyday you wish parts of your life were over.

Don’t deny that you wished you could get all your homework over with and could just sleep. Sleep, where you can’t do anything but waste significant time in unconsciousness.

We only look forward to fun days and fail to appreciate our lives for what they are. We wish our test in second period were over. We wish it were Friday. We wish we didn’t have to read in SSR. Every Monday we wish the whole week would go by fast. We wish the school year were over already. We focus too much on hoping time goes faster, which ruins our experiences in the moment.

Others don’t wish for moments to end but instead, spend too much time worrying about the future to enjoy the present. Common questions of uncertainty fill their minds…

What if I won’t be as close with my friends anymore after high school?

What If I I’m not successful?

What if I miss my family?

What if I never find someone who I truly love?

What if my marriage ends in a divorce?

What if I’m never happy…?

All we do is analyze our future and waste away the time we have. What I’m trying to say is, live in the moment. Enjoy and cherish everyday of your senior year, as well as your future ahead. As you look at the large countdown poster hung on the side of the B-building, think of how you can make the most of your few days left here. Appreciate what you have and cherish each moment because as you breathe, another person is taking their last breath.

I wish you nothing but happiness and success no matter what the future holds for you.

"Nama" by Brandon M

            First day of school, second period, nine o’clock. I entered room S-4 and saw her. Kids began filing in and sat down near their friends. Nine o’six, the bell rang. All of S-4 was dead silent. The only sound striking the ears of each individual was the stilling hum of the air conditioning vent. “Why are you here?” Everybody looked at each other, mildly confused. No response. She repeated, “Why are you here?” Some students simultaneously shouted, “Because we want to learn!” Once it was my turn to answer, fear had stricken every nerve of my body and I sputtered out “They put me in here by accident.” She gave me a cold, stone faced look. Ever since that day I never talked to her or ask questions about anything.

            Everyday I came into that classroom, my heart was pumping 200 times faster because I knew that she hated me. She didn’t want me in her classroom. Every time she would surprise us with an essay and I would get zeroes on every single one of due to my procrastination. I kept telling myself to study every morning and every night to make her proud so she can like me, but laziness got in the way.

            As the end of first semester was approaching, I had built up the guts to come to her after school and talk. I walked in and saw her in the corner of the room relaxing in her chair. She looked at me and said “Hello,” in her heavy-ish accent. I grabbed a chair and sat down right in front of her desk. I told her, “I know I’ve haven’t talked all semester, but I have a question for you.” She yelled, “Oh, so you can talk?!”, and we both started laughing. From that one day I began to feel a sense of comfort around her.

            Once second semester started, I ran into her classroom and shouted out “Good morning!” Ever since I talked to her I began to see her true personality, which made me realize that my mindset during first semester was all wrong. She didn’t hate me; she wanted me in her classroom, she cared about all of her students, she wanted us to treasure our knowledge. She wasn’t just a teacher, but she was a mentor guiding us in the right directions of our life. As the school year ended she and I were like best friends because I was able to talk about anything with her and she would help me with all of my life problems. She even let me her fancy car! You can say that she is my favorite teacher.

            Then the new school year began, I saw the new students walk into her classroom and it reminded me of myself when I first walked into that classroom. I told them that there’s nothing to be scared of because she is one of the best teachers you will ever have and that you will learn many valuable lessons that you will treasure forever. AP Bio with her is a once in a lifetime chance.

           

           

           

                                                           

"The Pink Shimmering Lipstick" by Kyla M

The bulletin board is surrounded by vivid images. Smiling adults, laughing children, a couple on a sunset beach walking and holding hands. I look back up at the poster board and began to read what it has to offer.

“It’s extremely painless” said the boy sitting next to me. I jumped and turned to him quickly. “They install a chip into the front of your brain which releases “happy hormones”; I don’t know the complete science behind it though.

“So it doesn’t make you happy?” I say.

He grinned vigorously at me. “It does too. You’ll live your life to the fullest, erasing all your bad memories and you’ll create happy memories instantly..” He had chip of glee in his tone. I tried to ignore it but I continued listening and begun to feel something in my throat come up noiselessly. I swallowed and looked at the floor; away from poster.  

“As you see in that poster, participants showed a high increase in their brain activity during a PET scan and..” Without hearing what else he had to say, I stomped out of the room firmly.

When I got home I let the dog out. I took the TV dinner out of its boxed, missed the trashcan and flew it in the microwave. I flop on the couch and turn on the television. I then see some familiar faces; the same couple on the poster board. The phones rings a loud and a woman begins talking to me happily, confirming I have an appointment at 9:30am tomorrow. “I guess this is really happening.” I take in to myself.

*

I have a book in my hands. I look at the receptionist and turn back to the poster which got me here in the first place. I place the book quietly on the table and put my hands back on my lap. “Why do I sweat so much?” I began to say. “I need to stop putting..”

“Kyla Martin!”

I look to the left and see a woman through a doorway on the opposite end of the room with a clipboard in her hand. Her straight, white teeth blinded me through her pink shimmering lipstick as she says “You’re up next!” I look back down at my sweaty hands and say aloud “Is this what I’m going to become? A woman who has the urge to wear pink lipstick every day because I’m so happy?

“Excuse me, ma’am?” The woman asked; she looked rather confused and wrinkled up her eye brows. However, she kept her award winning smile on her face with ease.

I stand up and look towards the doorway. It grew bigger as I walk slowly towards her and never look directly in her eyes. “Nothing.”

"Four Hours and Nineteen Minutes" by Lillian C

March 23, 2014

            Over four hours straight with no stops, no sing-alongs, and no wifi. Sounds horrible right? For the first sixty minutes on the road, I sat through L.A.’s heavy traffic with my sister in the driver’s seat and my mother beside her. While I stared out the window and into the neighboring car, completely violating their privacy, I began thinking that I was going to dread the next three hours as we headed towards the middle of nowhere. As traffic cleared up and we merged onto the 101 North, I was suddenly exposed to an extraordinary collection of warmth, cold, and amazement all at once.

There before me was the vast Pacific Ocean in a way I’ve never seen before. A clear cut horizon separating the field of azure and the sheet of ivory that was sitting upon it, a hazy sky barely letting the warm sun bleed through its grasp, and a miniature silhouette of what seemed like an ant venturing across the surface of the ocean. Nothing had been more breathtaking than this, especially following the last hour of agonizing boredom.

After about five minutes of this view, I let myself get wrapped up in the ocean’s countless lips while everything else became a slight hum in the background. To anyone else on the same freeway, I would have looked like an extremely strange child in the backseat that was gradually losing her mind just staring out the window. Maybe I was, but that didn’t seem to matter to me at the time. What truly mattered was that I was now surrounded by colossal mountains that completely obstructed my view of the ocean and that I wasn’t going to see it until I return from wherever I was going.

Now, everything was green! I began to imagine myself rolling down these enormous hills. I felt like I was becoming Mother Nature or something of the kind. Just imagining myself at the top of one of these mountains yelling out, “I am Mother Nature! Everybody, love me!” It made me chuckle to myself because I realized how ridiculous I seemed in the confinement of my own mind, like the strange child in the back again.

But abruptly, I was hit with this immense sadness as I came to realize that one day these mountains would turn from green to brown, the sand would start reaching further out towards the horizon, and the sky would become one of the fifty shades of grey. I grew ashamed of how I had already contributed to the deterioration of this world with all the little wrappers I carelessly tossed to the ground and my so-called “symbolic” burning of failed tests. Something that was just an image to me some minutes ago was now of extremely great value. I never felt such a great admiration for nature, the development of it, and the mystery as to where it all came from.

We are blessed. Not with the newest iPhone, not with our dream car, not even with our college acceptances. We are blessed with an increment of the universe that nurtures all of our loved ones, a world covered with a never-ending thread that connects “stuff” to more “stuff”, and most importantly, a place to call our home.

I am proudly the strange child in the backseat, and within four hours and nineteen minutes, I found home.

"How To Become a Regular Babysitter" by Alyssa A

            Babysitting is one of the best jobs to have while in high school. There is no "boss" who controls your work schedule, the hours don't conflict with school since you work mostly on the weekends, and the money you make is tax free. However, many babysitters make simple mistakes that lose them jobs. Here are some tips to create a sound foundation of families to regularly babysit for, allowing you to have some extra spending cash.

1. Availability

            First it is important to be available. Usually most families ask for babysitting service two or three days before the day they need you. If they want you to babysit on a Friday, they will usually contact you on a Wednesday, maybe a Tuesday. Unquestionably this is not a whole lot of notice and you may already have plans for that night. Nevertheless, we are all Seniors here and have taken Economics so let's apply what we have learned. A decision confronts us with a possible tradeoff. We can either stick with our original plans, or we can cancel the plans and  make some money. Measure the opportunity cost. If your plans are to stay at home to binge watch a new series on Netflix, you should accept the babysitting job and watch your shows another day. But say you have tickets to the Justin Timberlake concert or you are going to prom on that night, it is probably in your best self interest to pass up the babysitting opportunity. If you have a good reason, the family will be understanding. Being available is very important. If you are not available the family will ask another sitter, and if you decline too many times to babysit for them they will stop asking you. Consequently, you have just lost a job.

Tip: A good rule of thumb is to not cancel on a family two times in a row. If you have to you must have a pretty good reason. Also, if you are in a sport or extracurricular activity where you have weekend games/performances and practices, notify the families.. For example,  during basketball season I send out a text to the families I babysit for and let them know that I am in season and cannot babysit on Friday nights from January to March. After season I send out another text to inform them that I am available again.

2. Research

            Before even going to the house to sit, it is important to do some research to prepare for the night. What happens when you don't prepare for a test? You usually fail. It is the same thing with babysitting. There are three key pieces of information you must know about the family before you go over to work.

                        A). Number of Kids/Ages

                        B). House Rules

                        C). Illnesses (allergies, colds, etc.)

This information can be found out by just asking one of the parents (usually the mom). Now this seems like a simple step but passing it up has the possibility of ending a babysitting relationship with a family. One of the families I babysit for are strictly vegetarian. If I brought over some Dino Nuggets as a fun snack for the kids, I most likely would not have gotten a call for a second job. This information also helps prepare you for what type of night it is going to be. If the parents are newlyweds with an eight month old baby be prepared to change a diaper, make a bottle, and maybe deal with some extensive crying. If the family has three boys who are seven, nine, and eleven, be ready for a busy night where you will act as the referee, mediate disputes, and be asked a million questions about their favorite video game. Doing your research will allow you to prepare yourself and know what mindset and skills you must have before starting the night.

3.  Think Like A Kid, Act Like An Adult

            One of the most tricky things about babysitting is being relatable and fun with the kids while keeping them in reign and having them know that you are in charge. The kids are a direct line of communication to their parents, telling them if you make a mistake, if you are mean, or if you let them run wild; however, they also tell their parents when they had fun and if they experienced any new things.  The best way to achieve this balancing act of respect and fun is by packing a "Bag of Activities". Now a days, kids spend their time watching television, being on the computer, or playing video games. You should bring alternative things to do that are more interactive like origami, board games (Candy Land, Shoots and Ladders, Guess Who, etc.), or seasonal activities (painting-not carving-pumpkins for Halloween, creating Valentine's Day Cards, making paper snowflakes for Christmas, etc.). These activities are fun for the kids and put you in a teaching position, allowing them to follow your directions without you having to be stern or forceful. You must also pack a figurative "Bag of Activities". This is where knowing the kids ages is important. Freshen up your mind on topics that the kids are interested in. Be prepared to talk about Disney movies (especially the new movies like Frozen and Tangled, but do not pass up the classics like The Little Mermaid, Toy Story, and The Lion King), popular video games (Call of Duty, Minecraft, NBA 2k14, etc.), and appropriate songs/artists.                                                                                           

          

    www.guide4moms.com            

  

 www.dan-dare.org                                        

  

mp1st.com

Tip: I also find it useful to not talk down to the kids or treat them like they are "babies". This is especially important when babysitting kids who are in fourth grade or older. They do not want to be treated like little kids, especially when they have younger siblings. They see themselves as more mature than the younger kids, they want you to see them this way too.

4. Clean

            When parents ask for a babysitter it is usually because they are going out on a date or they have a work event. After a fun night out no parent wants to come home to a messy house. An effective way to become a regular babysitter is to clean up the house while the parents are away: do the dishes in the sink, wipe down the counters, clean the stove, pick up the couch pillows and fold the throw blankets, organize the kid toys. When the parents come home they will be surprised and appreciative, earning you some big points and a call back.

Tip:  I usually run the dishes in the dish washer and then unload them once the cycle is done to save time. That way I can play with the kids instead of washing dishes for an hour.   

            Babysitting is a great way to make some extra money and is an easily managed job to have while in high school; however, it does take some effort. Be available, get to know the kids, allow the kids to have fun, and pick up the house and you will create a sound foundation of families for whom you can regularly babysit.

"The Secret Life under My Scarf" by Alia A

As maybe, most of you guys know by now, I wear a scarf on my head because I chose to for my religion, Islam. By the way it’s called a Hijab. I know, it’s a much prettier name. Also, everyone I ever met always has questions about it. So, after thinking long and hard about what to write for this blog, I decided to answer some of the questions that I always get. So, just sit back, relax, and enjoy some free knowledge.

·      Yes, I have hair. I don’t stuff socks behind my bald head to get the perfect bun that I have.

·      No, I don’t wear my scarf in the shower. How else can I get my luscious hair to smell so good? (Like any of you guys could know that).

·      No, I am not a terrorist. I swear to you guys, Islam is not a religion that wants to bring harm to everyone.

·      No, Osama Bin Laden is not my uncle. I promise, not all Muslims are terrorists and not all terrorists are Muslims.

·      Yes, my family can see me without the scarf. After all, they are my blood, right?

·      Also, girls can see me without the scarf too, but guys can’t. That would be extremely sad if my own gender can’t even see me without it.

·      Yes, my legs are very, very white. Since, they never do get sunlight; you can probably get blinded by the whiteness of them.

·      Yes, I am Arab, Egyptian actually. No we don’t dance that stereotypical dance with our arms. (I know you guys know which dance I’m talking about).

·      Yes, I do get hot, but I’m used to it. I mean come on, who doesn’t get hot in this California weather!

·      Yes, I have my ears pierced and I like to do my hair sometimes. It really doesn’t matter that no one can see it. All that matters is my opinion on how hot I look.

·      Yes, I can hear you when you talk to me. (I actually got this question).

·      No, my parents didn’t throw a scarf on my head the second I came out of my mother’s womb.

I can honestly go on forever about all the questions I have gotten in my past. Usually, most of the questions I get are just super racist and ignorant (if you haven’t noticed in my list), but I realized that I have to deal with it, because everywhere you go, you’re going to have to deal with these types of people. Just remember; never ever let those people get under your skin because you are always going to be a much better person than they are.

"Tilt Me by Sarah P

Sometimes I like to lay on the floor. It can be fun to just stare at the ceiling, losing myself in thought. And then, suddenly, my thoughts turn to the potential of the ceiling above me; what an interesting surface. What if I could walk upon the ceiling, make “up” the new “down”?

I give it a go; in my mind I am on the ceiling, walking as I used to upon the ground, or what was once the ground. Now the carpet is above me and I can feel the grooves of the plaster under my feet. I must walk around the ceiling-fan (which desperately needs to be dusted) and climb through the doorways.

When I walk on this floor, does my hair stand up, reaching to the carpeted ceiling? Silly, isn’t it, that one would install carpet on a ceiling?

I can hide and walk right past Mother, because she is standing upside down, on the other ground; the real ground; the right ground. She doesn’t look up enough.

I can see the bald spots my family members try to hide.

I can see into the vents; there are a lot of cobwebs up here.

I can see the steam and smoke from the stove as it rises to meet me, bringing pleasant scents.

There are lots of dark spots up here; this is where the lamps cast their shadows.

I understand why Mom always says I need to clean my room; seeing it in its entirety from above, I suppose it is a bit cluttered, perhaps one could call it chaotic.

I can’t walk out the door or window or else I’ll fall into nothing; the sky isn’t a solid base like this plaster-and-paint one I now stand upon.

This mind-set, this new terrain, is slowly becoming real.

Until, suddenly, Mommy notices; she sees me wandering, daydreaming, and tells me to stop laying on the ground for dinner has been made. So then, once again, I am a child standing upright; my world turns upside down and I have to come back. The only floor is the carpeted surface below me, and the beige, plastered ceiling looms above me; there are some facts of life I can’t change. I can’t make Mama engage in my daydreams and curiosities…but now it is dinner time and I’m hungry, so none of that really matters, does it?

" Mysterious Adventure" by Kaaria B

As he climbed, he started getting higher and higher.  He kept on going although he would get tired every once in a while, but he didn’t mind.  He just wanted to be the first person to make it to the top and back.  He had no idea what would happen once he got there.  As he was climbing, it got later and it started getting darker.  That didn’t stop him from still going up there.  He kept pushing hisself to get there.  As he got higher, it got colder, and it was nothing but black outside.  He didn’t have many clothes on his body to save him from not being too cold.  So he started to get the urge to just go back down.  But he thought about it, when he tied his boat off and started to climb the cliffs.  He knew that no one had ever lived to tell what was behind the cloud. So he continued his journey up the cliff.  

            A couple hours later, he gets even higher he has no chpice but to keep climbing. If he chooses to change his mind and go back down it would take him a long time.   So he finally is almost to the tip top of the cliff and he has frostbite.  He is freezing and he hasn’t eaten for days since he started climbing the cliffs.  He can barely move, but he is almost to the tip.  So he reaches as far as he can, as much as it hurts him.  He grabs on to the top of the cliff, and he starts hanging.  He starts panicing a lot because this can be the day he dies and has no one to help him.  A couple minutes later, he accidentally slips his hand and he falls down.  Hes going at full speed holding on to nothing jus falling straight down. Finally, he hits the ground on the hard icey snow. He did not survive.