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Watch's Written Work

#1   My Best Wishes 

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    Posted 05 October 2005 - 12:25 AM

    I do a quite a bit of written work for school, so I thought I may as well post it and get opinions, comments and so forth.

    My first bit is a poem I had to do; it's a Hebrew form of poetry called a Chiasmus. Unless I do work for school I don't have much time to write for leisure, I like too but time is an issue and I like to write long stories so might be awhile between updates.



    A Hebrew Chiasmus is an ancient form of poetry. It is inverted parallelism. Where as western poetry rhymes words, Hebrew poetry has a form called thought rhyming. The word Chiasmus is derived from the Greek word ‘Chi’ which corresponds to the letter ‘X’.


    Many aeons ago, before Earth was created, up in heaven we all were.
    Then rivalries arose, both for the same cause, but different ways.
    One was chosen, one, was not. One is light, one is dark.
    Both became sons, one of God, the other of Perdition.
    One was banished, while the other created the world.
    The chosen one came down, sent by his father.
    To preach his word, and to start his church.
    He chose some apostles, and did the work.
    But then he was crucified, by men.
    His death brought the Atonement.
    So that we can be forgiven.
    Of the sins we commit.
    Absolution.
    Of the mistakes we make.
    So our slate can be wiped clean.
    From his loss we gain the Atonement.
    He was placed on a cross, by his brothers.
    Chose some holy men, and fulfilled his calling.
    He began his true church, and taught the gospel.
    The one of light came down, sent by his Heavenly Father.
    One was sent away, to the place of fire, while one made Gaia.
    One father, two sons; One the son of God, one the son of Perdition.
    Light against Darkness, only one could prevail, light became the victor.
    The peace become disturbed. Different methods became the subject of war.
    Before we were here eras ago, brothers and sisters we all were. Up where angels dwell.



    And this is a story I did for English, it's based on the dog sled race in Alaska called the 'Iditarod'. I had a word limit so I had to cut short in some parts.



    "Oi. Get off me. Get that smelly sock off my lens! And CLOSE THE ZIP! You’re letting the wind in.”

    Chilly artic winds ripping through clothing. Sun glaring. Sweat glistening. The sound of rough yells. Forty four furry canine legs pumping. Dogs panting.

    The Iditarod. The hardest, the most gruelling dogsled race in the world, but, also the most rewarding. Pitting man and dog against nature in a seven day one thousand mile journey.
    I’m Nikkion, the SLR camera of first time rookie musher Michael Hui and his team of twelve dogs. The Iditarod is the biggest annual dogsled race that there is, on a track beginning in Nome, and racing over a thousand miles to finish up in Anchorage Alaska. Michael has been training for his first race for years and with him the whole way, me, his trusty camera, his favourite dog Archer and the rest of his team: Shags, Boomer, Firrito, Danny, Stevo, Colby, Savaloy, Gibbo, Jesse, Drew and Haley

    Michael, an outsider because of his youth, has drawn some unruly attention. The victor of last year, Corky Monson, widely suspected of cheating, had already been snooping around his belonging and his dogs.

    Since the gun shot that signalled that commencement of the race went off, Michael had been trailing at the back of the pack. This did have something to do with some ‘punk’ from Indianapolis smashing against Michaels sled and making him lurch violently to the right.

    Out of eighty-six contestants, Michael was tied in sixteenth place. After battling with the kid from Indianapolis he had been forced to go right in a fork. One of the first forks out of many, the left path was by far the easier, only the seasoned racers took the right route. With ravines hidden under thin sheets of ice, narrow cliffs and giant mounds of snow everywhere, this was dangerous territory. Nine sleds went right. The leader Corky Monson, with the other four members of the top five and four contestants that followed Michael. Michael came out six spots ahead, landing himself in tenth. Four racers didn’t come out until rescue crews came to get them.

    At the first checkpoint that night, a record breaking forty-eight contestants dropped out- a combination of fatigue, injuries (both men and dog), sickness and getting lost. Michael, now tenth out of thirty eight was pleased with himself, but it didn’t last long, a new day of racing was fast approaching. Michael wanting memories of his first race dragged me out of my case. Boy was it freezing, and he took so long to snap that one shot of his sled that night.

    Day two to six. Michael slowly climbed his way up the ladder, more contestants dropped out, including, he had been pleased to learn, the kid from Indianapolis.

    Day seven. The final day. A minuscule number of twelve contesters remaining. Michael now in sixth, and the only probable way of finishing in the top three was a long, confusing and hazardous short cut.

    I tell you, being stuffed in a small hot black bag isn’t fun, especially when you’re bouncing up and down and side to side. I couldn’t blame Michael though. There wasn’t much time left, and the short cut was fast approaching. Having moved up into fifth by a lucky break he was using all he had left.
    He took the hairpin turn into the short cut faster then he had been going beforehand. His dogs, not being as tired as the other dogs started to gain on Corky Monson, still in the lead and within shouting distance of Michael.

    The end of the short cut, only one turn away, is the most dangerous part in the entire race. A turn densely covered with large oak trees. Navigating the twists and turns required attention and skill, the smallest lapse of concentration could be fatal for the race, and for your life.

    Michael knew the end was near. He could hear the roar of the crowd. Bursting into a clearing he thought he was out, then, Archer’s leg broke through a thin sheet of ice, and his leg plummeted downwards while his body was jerked forward. He fell, hard, causing the rest of the dogs to fall, and for me to be thrown into the air and slid across the snow until I stopped, resting against Archer. Michael radioed for help and ran to Archer. His breathing was getting shallow, it wasn’t raining, yet I felt water falling on me when he pulled me out of my case. He collapsed in the snow patting Archer and sobbing until help arrived. He didn’t finish that race, but there would be others.

    #2   Sea of Time 

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      Posted 05 October 2005 - 11:35 AM

      That's great stuff, watch, I had no idea you were a writer. Very cool.

      #3   My Best Wishes 

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        Posted 08 April 2006 - 03:05 AM

        Yea been writing a bit lately, I realise the end of this sucks so far but it's a work in progress.
        ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

        She lay on the hill. Hidden under a tree she watched through a pair of binoculars at the scene before her. The old man stood by his ferry as he watched the silhouetted figure walk up the path to him. The gravel crunched as he walked and stopped. He shot a glance at the hill where his partner Bonnie was hiding and wondered why he got the hard part. He turned back to the Ferryman man and forced a small
        “Hell of a night isn’t it?”
        “It’s deathly”
        Clyde forced a small chuckle since he, unlike the Ferryman’s previous customers knew the true meaning behind those words.
        “How much for passage?”
        “65 for the trip across, 120 there and back”
        “Alright then, just a trip across”
        “65 then, hop on”
        Clyde jumped down into the small boat as the Ferryman pushed the boat away from the pier; they drifted for awhile until the Ferryman fished out the oar and started rowing.
        About halfway across the water became a bit rough and wavy, Clyde knew this region had strange waters and didn’t worry like other people, then the Ferryman said
        “There is trouble ahead, so you must pay me now”
        Clyde heard a voice in the wind saying
        “Don’t do it”
        “You must pay me now”
        And still the voice in the wind said
        “Don’t do it, whatever you do don’t pay the Ferryman, don’t even fix a price, don’t pay the Ferryman, until he gets you to the other side”
        The Ferryman, seeing that Clyde wasn’t going to pay, picked up the oar and took a swing at Clyde’s head. Clyde saw it coming too late, he tried to duck and the oar came down on his arm, he fished his pistol out of its holster and started to fire. The Ferryman ducked under the seats until Clyde’s slide ran out, and then he pulled out a knife and walked towards him. He drew it to the side and got ready to stab when, a bullet zoomed out of the night and hit the knife, splashing it into the water; he turned to where the bullet came from and saw a figure on a hill with a rifle. He grabbed Clyde and threw him into the river and sped off into the night.

        ‘Dam waste of time Starbucks is’ Clyde thought to himself as he drove to work. The line had taken a record breaking 15 minutes just to order his half strength skinny latte. Bonnie would be snide, looks like he’d be owing a dinner.

        Clyde walked into the briefing room just as Eugene was starting the brief. Eugene smirked at Clyde, Eugene had always been jealous that Clyde was recognized as the better agent, but at 2 foot taller and athlete like, who could blame Clyde for being one of the top agents.
        “Now that Clyde has so politely joined us. Ladies and Gentlemen, I’m sure you all know ho”
        “Eugene gets over youself and hurry up before I jam my heel up your ass.” Interrupted Agent Del’cruz
        “Maggie, that’s har”
        “It’s Agent Del’cruz Eugene and get on with it.”
        Knowing he had lost the battle Eugene finally started to get on with it.
        “As we all know about our perp got away last night. As if we couldn’t add insult to injury, local police last night raided his apartment. It seems our man has a huge interest in Greek mythology. Now the perp’s victims at the start where big guys. They all had connections, this guy handed us Lizzie Gorden whom we’d been chasing for eight years. Nowadays it seems he is just killing because of the power surge.
        ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

        If anyone has listened to Chris De Burgh's-Don't pay the ferryman the majority of the influence is from the song.

        #4   My Best Wishes 

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          Posted 26 July 2006 - 02:48 AM

          I had to write a eassy for school about Tolerance and acceptance, I ended up writing a story about the white man destroying the way of life for the native Indians.

          I kind off went off track at the end, I lost focus. And although It's a story it was satisfactory for school :!:

          Note: I am doing the early stages of the US for History so most of what i wrote is correct.

          Well here it is:

          Tolerance and acceptance
          Story of the Native American Indians and the White settlers.


          It was the early 1800’s and our people were being forced to change our way of life by white intruders from across the great waters. They came and settled in the eastern lands. At first they were frightened of us. Some tales told us that they fled from persecution and fear from their own homeland. Trade was made with some, while others, from both sides, opened battle. We quickly learned to attack first and question later. These people eventually drove us from our ancient way of life, and although we were nomadic they drove us from our lands. But not all of them were like this. There were some who sought a better life from which they had and travelled west. These early men, whom the invaders named ‘mountain men’, generally had a positive impact on us. Showing us new tools, which gave us an advantage over our enemies, and new means of curing sickness and pain. In turn we shared our knowledge of mountain passes and treatment onto them and sometimes they would marry into our tribes and aid us in our fights against their own kind.

          While our people rarely needed to enforce punishment on men for their acts, these white ‘Americans’ constantly had to deal with each other for their various acts against one another. When their times were difficult they would steal and kill to survive, instead of trading or making their own way to live. In these times these people were taken and killed or placed in a building for a long period of time with guards set about them. Some such people would come and try to take away our horses. In such times we would hunt down and extract revenge on these people, after our actions more people would arrive to take revenge on us, and so the cycle went on. After the novelty of new people in our land wore off we started to have little or no tolerance for these people. Each new generation would fight more then their fore fathers and wage war for the simplest reasons. These people kept multiplying and kept expanding their territory. Eventually after their wagon trains ceased crossing the plains and mountains they began to settle in the Great Plains themselves. Olive skinned men from the south would come up and build houses and fences with the only intention of housing cattle. Along with these men from the south dark men started to appear. They seemed to do most of, or all the work for the white men. Eventually a great war happened with men from the North fighting the South. This was a great war and during that time many houses and towns were abandoned leaving us to plunder their animals and goods. After the war the dark men stopped doing all the work for the white men. Because of this the land was even more populated. But these men from the south and the dark men were good to us Indians. They only wanted to cultivate the land and raise herds of cattle and horses. These cattle raisers were good for us. Soon the wealth of a tribe was measured by the ratio of horses to men they had, and gave us Indians a new way of life. A faster way to move and attack, ways to transport more parts of the Buffalo. Soon after these men appeared, wagons again traversed our plains in search for this ‘gold’. This gold frenzy lasted for a time until it died down and men began settling down again.

          As for my people, who knows what the future will hold for us. These people affected our lives in ways we have never known. If only we had both been on good terms in the beginning, only a little bit of tolerance…


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