Entry 1:

The tree was leaning over, an old man whose heart refused to stop beating but with dead limbs attached to his torso. The gravel was biting his sandals, occasionally hitching a ride on his toes. The morning grass was damp, providing a quick rinse but also a shine from the shivering rays. The walk is long but brief, lasting a mere ten minutes. But they accumulate, turning minutes to hours and hours to days. Packs swarm along the concrete path, with the occasional straggler shaking the sleep out of his eyes. Duos and trios walk briskly out from the dorms, continuing polite chit-chat or walking in silence. All heading to the same destination, they have but one goal in life at that moment. Hoping for a short line and satisfying food, campers open the door for one another and trapeze in, noses sniffing for the smell of a delicious breakfast.

The minutes scratch away precious time

Nature unleashes its irregular uniformity

Life goes on as scheduled

Entry 2:

A field of night encompasses the feeble yellow and red, illuminating a few faces but erasing the rest. Beings dart in and out, looking for more food or conversation. The field lights up slowly, blinking like an airplane landing. Yellow flashes shock the audience, drawing gasps of surprise. Wonder builds up like a steaming kettle, and people walk cautiously over to the field, searching for an absence of darkness. Catching the light givers, we clasp them in our hands and watch them shine and exit, searching for a mate to both love and eat. We hold the fireflies, admiring their inherent features, staring at the flashing beacon of attraction. We prefer the light, always needing to know what’s in front of us and who we are next to. Certainty is in our nature, a species of habit and repetition. We enjoy knowing about the future and feel tortured by doubt and uncertainty. We burn in the questions of hesitation, things that make us skeptics and disbelievers. We surround ourselves in these thoughts, wondering about the next move or the next play, like opposing chess players. Only determination and persistence rise above, with confidence and courage building character and achieving those thoughts. But what happens after we catch the fireflies? What happens after we obtain the light?

The fireflies illuminate the field of night

The moon fades out, ashamed to show its borrowed light

Life goes on as scheduled

Entry 3:

The middle of nowhere, for two weeks, holds a microcosm of the world, compressed into a single residence and a mile of rarely used buildings. Souls shining bright with hope and ideas swarm advisors and classrooms, showcasing their work and immortalizing it in other people’s brains. Putting it in ink solidifies it, both literally and metaphorically. The scratching of pencil on paper is a delight to the teacher, doling out prompts like an emphatic ice cream truck driver. The soundless bell rings, bags are packed, and ideas shunted in the reserved section as food and fun inhabit the conscious mind. Stories dreamt of by the teenage mind are stored in a dark and worn out backpack, bringing nothing but weight to the shoulders. But since energy can never be destroyed, each letter, each phrase is filled with that energy from the mind, a paper full of power and potential. The kinetic forces that push it into motion are transformed into magnetic and electrical impulses that stimulate dendrites and axons, sending messages in milliseconds to the central nervous system and eliciting a response in the form of poised fingers grasping a pencil. Conflicts and adventures are formed but the mind is depleted, and so its vehicle leaves once again for the charger cord.

Ideas float onto the page

Hope and aspiration for the story to succeed more than the writer

Life goes on as scheduled