America's involvement

I don't believe that the United States should create excuses for going into another country especially if its for their own agenda. They should only be aloud to "help" when they are asked for help in funds, liberating a country, etc. literally the country as a whole has to vote that America must help but not to interfere or create more excuses and problems while were there. there have been many times were the CIA, FBI, Army etc. have infiltrated other countries and help for their our countries needs. if one country attacks another or there is an evil dictator killing people (even his own) then i feel we should go in and help for the good of those who are defenseless.

Wanderer from a known land

The boy in the orange turban through the gray lands carrying only a compass and the box his father had given him. although this was a peculiar box since there was no way to open it. On top was a note scrawled in pen

Give this to Barder
Use the turban
He will lead you there

The boy had no clue as to what this meant, he would just have to travel till he found the one he was to "barter" with. He set off towards the north and eventually came upon a humongous tree that would shade him from the moon and its dreadful light. he arched his back up against the tree and lay the turban across his eyes and slept.

A ringing awoke him, but the sound was unlike what he had heard before. The sound was an "alarm clock" like they had in the olden days. he looked towards the sound and only saw the dunes. but slowly a figure arose and headed in his direction on four paws. The sun had darkened the figure and its swiftness distorted the boys view. the boy then noticed it was a rare creature called a dog especially out here in the ocean. the dog halted and presented it self before the boy in a sitting position. on his neck was a dog tag labled

BARDER
Allergic to pumpkins, seaweed, and trashy romance novels

The boy had never heard of any of these things but knew that this is what his father sent him to find. the boy placed the box before Barter, the dog acknowledge the box and sniffed it. for a while nothing happened, but the corners began to disappear tuning into a sphere and then it split into four pieces. suddenly Barter and the boy began to float. the boy baked away from the dog and slowly they went down towards the ceiling. when he got close to the dog again they floated higher. the boy then jumped on the dogs back and they soared down into the ground. the boy pleaded to stop but it was no use and so he grabbed the dogs collar. they soared over the dunes and mountains of the sea. off in the distance he could see the city his dad had spoke of days before he left. The city of Profillia.

The Man

The man awoke at 6:00 AM just like any other Monday morning. He took his ten minute shower, put on his black shoes, black socks, gray pants, white collared shirt, ate his corn flakes brushed his teeth, and combed his beard. But today he stopped and looked in the mirror and ran his hand over his scalp, with a look of despair upon his face. Today was the man's 60th birthday. No one knew who the man was, where he had come from, where he lived, what he did, and why. With the busy life that every New Yorker lives no one bother to stop and ask these questions. The man was a ghost among the people.

The man placed his glasses upon the bridge of his nose, and immediately they began to droop below his eyes. Things were never the same since he left his life in Georgia along with the only people who knew the man. Actually it was more like everyday was the same for the man. He locked the door with the same key, walked down the same pathway, waited at the same bus stop, to the same park that he went to everyday. there he would sit on his bench, the same bench he sat on for the past 5 years, thinking, reflecting, and wondering to himself. The trees shook, the joggers ran, the bicycles whizzed by, the ducks quacked, and the children's laughter was heard. The man sat in the bench just like any other day. Except there was a boy sitting across from the man, swinging his legs, and looking towards the ground with despair. He stood and walked towards the boy. the boy looked up at the man and followed him as he sat on the other end of the bench. It was unusual of the man to pry into other peoples life since he seldom talked.

"What's your name boy" his voice was very raspy, the kid looked down at his feet and stayed silent. the man looked in another direction and sighed.

"Michael" the man looked at the kid with astonishment.

"A good name" the boy blushed at his remark and looked back at his swinging shoes
"what seems to drag you towards the floor boy?"

"i don't like it here" he said very softly.

"neither do I" the man said

the boy looked up at him puzzled

"why?"

"because i'm not home" the boy did not understand and just as he was about to ask him the boys mother grabs him by the ear

"where have you been, iv'e been looking for you for over an 20 minutes were late for your dentist appointment, and we still have to stop by grandmas"

The boy waves at the man and the man waves back with a smile.

The man sits for a little while and then unuaually stands up walks towards the subway entrance and finds the directions to the airport. He was headed back to where he belonged, to the people he still loved, to the land that he knew. Just then a man took a picture of him.



















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