This was a short ficton story that I wrote for one of my classes.

All she wanted was a kitten. Something she could cuddle and love when her parents would get in yelling matches for hours. A kitten that would purr and rub up against her face while she cried in her closet. A kitten that would tell her that everything would be all right. Every birthday or holiday it was the same thing. What do you want for your birthday? A kitten. Ah, well, we’ll see. That was always the answer. But then Christmas or the birthday would arrive and she would rush downstairs, only to find the latest Barbie or other non-living toy would grace the tree. No mewing, no collars, no fur, no kitten.

It was her birthday and just like every birthday, she had asked for a kitten but knew it would not happen. As she came downstairs that morning, she looked at the presents on the fireplace. One looked remarkably like a cat carrier. She screamed in excitement! The wrapping paper came off in one clean rip and when she opened the box, she saw not a kitten but a toy, a stuffed animal kitten with beady glass eyes. She felt her eyes moisten and looked to her parents, who were quietly giggling to themselves. She yelled and dashed madly back up the stairs with the imposter toy cat in her arms. She threw it on the floor and cried and cried. More than once her mom tried to come in and comfort her, but she would just throw a pillow out the door and yell “go away!” She spent the rest of the day moping and at dinner refused to speak to her parents.

This is the beginning of a story I have been writing in my free time. It is an ongoing piece of work that might end up as a short story or novel. But for now it is a fun piece of fiction writing.

PROLOGUE

So anyway, there I was, surrounded by hundreds of reflections of myself. I could tell they were me, yet they were all somehow wrong. They had missing eyes, were covered in hair. Terrible things had been done to them. As I looked at them, it almost seemed as if they were alive, versions of me from other lives, dimensions, or worlds. I wasn’t sure, but it occurred to me that they might not be as evil as I was lead to believe. I could tell they had suffered; were suffering. They all seemed to have unending pain, being trapped in the mirrors of their worlds and I realized I had to help them.

I knew what I was going to do and I looked at the reflection, which was not truly a reflection, closet to me. I would call her “One”. She had my brown hair and green eyes but her skin looked lifeless, a grayish paste that made her look nearly dead. And her eyes had a deep sorrow to them, giving the impression that she had witnessed an unspeakable horror or been through terrible pain. She was extremely skinny, much thinner than I. You could see the shape of every bone on her through the rags that barely clung to her skin. I walked toward the mirror and proceeded to touch it but I felt no hardness, it was as if the mirror was a gateway itself, and I began to push my way through.

To: Dr. Steve Evans (Supervisor, Technical Communications)

From: Alexandra Abrams

Subject: An Analysis of the Dale Chihuly Web Site

Date: 27 January 2009

Dr. Evans, the purpose of this memo is to evaluate and decide on level of effectiveness of the Dale Chihuly web site. Although informative on Mr. Chihuly’s works, the web site has many issues which will be described further on.

This is an essay I wrote for my American Literature II (English 322) course at the University of Kansas. I really was impressed with the connections I made between Emily Dickenson and modern day phenomena.

Emily Dickenson’s poem, “I’m Nobody! Who Are You?” is a short poem in which the narrator talks about being nobody: not being important or public about their lives. The narrator is worried about being banished for being nobody. Then she talks about how it is dull to be a public person, with everyone knowing all about you. She compares being well known to being like a frog, which constantly chirps, “I am here!” in a bog all day. The poem develops from hesitantly admitting that the narrator is nobody to actually relishing that is she nobody instead of somebody.