PORTFOLIO

Warning

How many times have you seen your older brother or sister stay up to finish a homework assignment when they could have been in bed sleeping or enjoying a favorite show on television? Well we see them almost every day. Have you ever thought that when they were you age they did the some of the same things we do now, and once we get to their age we will probably be the same way. Have you ever though about how miserable our lives are going to be once we get to their age.
Our parents make us read and write before we even start school. We spent most of our childhood days inside a miniature classroom studying vocabulary and spelling when we could be out in the sun playing, and enjoying our lives, while we have the time. You know very well that once you get to high school you wont have much of a life, so what’s the point in working so hard now, and ruining your lives before you get there. Collages aren’t going to look at your grades from elementary school or even middle school, so why are you trying to destroy you lives at such a young age. Your grades don’t count until you are in high school.
You are all in danger of destroying your lives, by listening to people who no longer have the chance of doing whatever they want, and not have to worry about it the next day. You have got your whole lives to worry about studying and doing homework, but you don’t have much time for running around, playing in the mud, and most importantly taking a nap in the middle of the day.
So enjoy your lives while you can because you are not going to be any different form your older siblings. They weren’t given the freedom to enjoy their childhood, and now they are living miserably, and if you don’t find a way to get the freedom to live your lives freely you will end up the same way. By the time you are in high school your lives would have completely crashed, and there would be nothing you could do about it.

Pizza

This picture was taken right after my first soccer game. My grandpa grandma and me out to eat. It was also the first time in my entire life, that I had tasted pizza. As soon as I took the first bite, of that delicious cheese pizza, I felt like I was floating in the air. My mouth becomes very watery. I heard my grandparents arguing about the food, but I could have cared less. I was only nine years old and I had eaten five slices of a large pizza, the first time I had tried it.
When I went home; I felt sick. I threw up and was in bed for two days, but that didn’t stop me from, thinking about pizza.
After that day, I would go with my grandpa to that same restaurant, every Friday. I tried pepperoni pizza, sausage pizza, mushroom pizza, and even mushroom-pineapple pizza, but none of them tasted as good as the cheese pizza. By the time I was twelve years old, I was five feet tall, and weighted nearly two hundred pounds. Pizza no longer made my mouth watery, or made me sick because I had ate too much. It had become an addiction. It tasted like I was chewing on paper; but I couldn’t stop it, because when I did, I would not be able to go to sleep. I felt empty from the inside.
I was made fun of at school, because of my weight. Still pizza was the most important thing in my life. Then, one Friday before grandpa and I went to get pizza; my mom came back to see me. She said she had lung cancer, and that she wanted to spend the last days of her life with me.
I staid home with her. The first time in three years, I had missed pizza on a Friday. At night I couldn’t go to sleep. I felt depressed, and lonely. I went out into the living room, and saw my mom smoking. Without her noticing I picked up her cigarette and began to smoke. I felt dizzy and began to cough. I felt nauseous. It was a horrible feeling, but it was the only thing that put me to sleep that night. When I woke up in the morning, I had an awful headache. And before I knew it I was smoking a pack of cigarettes each day. I liked it because it was better than eating pizza every Friday, and I began to lose weight.
Soon after my mother died, but still I didn’t stop smoking like I hadn’t stopped eating pizza. Now I’m the one with lung cancer.

The Perfect Wedding Draft 3

There she was the most perfectly shaped body ever created, and she was to suppose to buy me. As she looked through the dress, I pictured her wearing me, walking down the aisle, looking like an angel. However, wait, out of the shadows the unshapeliest figure, looking at me. Every monstrous step she took, the floor shook beneath me. It was as if someone had unleashed Godzilla on to the unsuspected wedding shop, and I was her victim. If I had a mouth, I would have screamed.

I could not take my eyes of off that gorgeous, most attractive and charming dress. It was like, that dress was made just for me. I imagined how I would look on my wedding day, wearing it. However, for some reason I had the feeling the dress, hated me.

She squeezed herself though me, not noticing that the she had ripped my seaming. The shapely women, that dreamed to be worn by, looked at me as if I was her lost love forced into the arms of fat, ghastly, wicked women.

The dress was a bit tight for me, but I was still going to buy it because it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I saw another woman, staring at my beautiful dress. I bet she was jealous of how pretty I looked.

On the day of the wedding, after screaming at her brides maids for leaving her place cards at the hotel, she once more squeezed her humongous body into me. I begged God to free my soul from God’s sense of humor turned bad. There I was the most handsome, attractive, and charming wedding dress, made by one of the best designer in the world, and now worn by an enormous, lazy, rounded, stubborn, rich women.

I was in a horrible mood on my wedding day. My parents had just informed me that they were not going to come to my wedding because one of their friends was sick and they decided to go and see him, instead of going to their daughter's wedding. The dress seemed even tighter on that day. Even after I had been on a very strict diet for three weeks.

As she walked down the church aisle, the sound of my beautiful silk ripping filled the air. She turned red and ran to the nearest restroom. For a couple of minutes, she stood their crying. Then as if it was my fault that she was fat, and it was my fault that I did not inform her that I was about to rip. She got a pair of scissors and rips me into even smaller pieces, than flushed me down the toilet. Unfortunately, for both of us, the toilet was out of order, and it threw me out like a soccer ball and on her once more.

I do not know why I took all my anger out on that poor dress, but it had caused me the most embarrassing day of my life.

The Perfect Wedding Draft 2

There she was the most perfectly shaped body ever created, and she was to suppose to buy me. As she looked through the dress, I pictured her wearing me, walking down the aisle, looking like an angel. However, wait, out of the shadows the unshapeliest figure, looking at me. Every monstrous step she took, the floor shook beneath me. It was as if someone had unleashed Godzilla on to the unsuspected wedding shop, and I was her victim. If I had a mouth, I would have screamed.
I could not take my eyes of off that gorgeous, most attractive and charming dress. It was like, that dress was made just for me. I imagined how I would look on my wedding day, wearing it. But for some reason I had the feeling the dress, hated me.

She squeezed herself though me, not noticing that the she had ripped my seaming. The shapely women, that dreamed to be worn by, looked at me as if I was her lost love forced into the arms of fat, ghastly, wicked women.
I saw another women, staring at my beautiful dress. I bet she was jealous of how pretty I looked.
On the day of the wedding, after screaming at her brides maids for leaving her place cards at the hotel, she once more squeezed her humongous body into me. I begged God to free my soul from God’s sense of humor turned bad. There I was the most handsome, attractive, and charming wedding dress, made by one of the best designer in the world, and now worn by an enormous, lazy, rounded, stubborn, rich women.
I was in a horrible mood on my wedding day. My parents had just informed me that they were not going to come to my wedding. They were not going to be there at their only daughter's wedding. The dress seemed even tighter on that day. Even after I had been on a very strict diet for three weeks.

As she walked down the church aisle, the sound of my beautiful silk ripping filled the air. She turned red and ran to the nearest restroom. For a couple of minutes, she stood their crying. Then as if it was my fault that she was fat, and it was my fault that I did not inform her that I was about to rip. She got a pair of scissors and rips me into even smaller pieces, than flushed me down the toilet. Unfortunately, for both of us, the toilet was out of order, and it threw me out like a soccer ball and on her once more.

I do not know why I took all my anger out on that poor dress, but it had caused me the most embarrassing day of my life.

The Perfect Wedding

There she was the most perfectly shaped body ever created, and she was to suppose to buy me. As she looked through the dress, I pictured her wearing me, walking down the aisle, looking like an angel. But wait, out of the shadows the unshapeliest figure, looking at me. Every monstrous step she took, the floor shook beneath me. It was as if someone had unleashed Godzilla on to the unsuspected wedding shop, and I was her victim. If I had a mouth, I would have screamed. She squeezed herself though me, not noticing that the she had ripped my seaming. The shapely women, that dreamed to be worn by, looked at me as if I was her lost love forced into the arms of fat, ghastly, wicked women.
On the day of the wedding, after screaming at he brides maids for leaving her place cards at the hotel, she once more squeezed her humongous body into me. I begged God to free my soul from God’s sense of humor turned bad. There I was the most handsome, attractive, and charming wedding dress. Made by one of the best designer in the world, and now worn by enormous, lazy, and rounded, stubborn, rich women.
As she walked down the church aisle, the sound of my beautiful silk ripping filled the air. She turned red and ran to the nearest restroom. For a couple of minutes, she stood their crying. Then as if it was my fault that she was fat, and it was my fault that I did not inform her that I was about to rip. She got a pair of scissors and rips me into even smaller pieces, than flushed me down the toilet. Unfortunately, for both of us, the toilet was out of order, and it threw me out like a soccer ball and on her once more.

Mr. President: Writting Assing. 4. Draft 3

Mr. President
I would like to congratulate you on becoming the first African American president of the United States. As the president of the United States, you will have many responsibilities, such as the economy, healthcare, Iraq, the war on "Terror," education and Gay rights; but the question is how you will fulfill your responsibilities.
In the past, we have spent a lot of money on war, which had affected our economy greatly. An enormous number of jobs have been lost, because big business such as Circuit city has run out of business. I understand that the war on "Terror" is one of the biggest issues in the whole world, but the way we have handled it in the past is not very effective. The mistake we have made is that, we have blamed the wrong people for our problems.
I believe that if we figure out a way, to deal with terrorism, the rest of the problems will be solved within a short time. We would not have to spend so much money overseas, fighting for a worthless cause. That money could be spent on healthcare or education. We would not have to pay dictators in the Middle East and South Asia to keep control in a certain areas for us. We probably would not be so hated if we stopped controlling other people. Yet getting rid of terrorism is not so easy.
When the Russians invaded Afghanistan; we paid the Taliban to fight the Russians and they did so willingly, but after the war we just left them there without caring about the harm, they could causes for us, later. During the war, we gave them all, the weapons they needed to fight, but after the war, we did not give them anything to feed their families with. Now they do not care if they die or not as long as they kill a couple of people with them. Dropping bombs on these people would not stop them. We need to figure out a way to stop them without violence, instead of doing the same thing they are doing.
By killing the Taliban, we also kill many innocent people. We do not look any different form the Taliban if we kill people, and justify it as, "we are just defending our nation." According to Geo News, a Pakistani news channel; for every one member of the Taliban that is killed, three innocent people are killed with him. By doing this, we are not stopping terrorism but promoting it. The families of those innocent people do not blame the Taliban for three deaths, but the Americans.
If this problem were not solved quickly, we would end up in a worse situation. We might have another incident such as the one on 9/11. We could get into more war; which could possibly start World War III if enough countries get involved. We could end up in another great depression because of the amount of money we are losing in war. Mr. Obama, you are elected because you promised this nation "change." I hope that change means, change in polices, not just a change in the executive branch.
Sincerely,


Aakash Arbab

Mr. President Draft 2

Mr. President
I would like to congratulate you on becoming the first African American president of the United States. As the president of the United States, you will have many responsibilities, such as the economy, healthcare, Iraq, the war on "Terror," education and Gay rights; but the question is how you will fulfill your responsibilities.
In the past, we have spent a lot of money on war, which had affected our economy greatly. An enormous number of jobs have been lost, because big business such as Circuit city has run out of business. I understand that the war on "Terror" is one of the biggest issues in the whole world, but the way we have handled it in the past is not very effective.
I believe that if we figure out a way, to deal with terrorism, the rest of the problems will be solved within a short time. We would not have to spend so much money overseas, fighting for a worthless cause. That money could be spent on healthcare or education. We would not have to pay dictators in the Middle East and South Asia to keep control in a certain areas for us. We probably would not be so hated if we stopped controlling other people. Yet getting rid of terrorism is not so easy.
When the Russians invaded Afghanistan; we paid the Taliban to fight the Russians and they did so willingly, but after the war we just left them there without caring about the harm, they could causes for us, later. During the war, we gave them all, the weapons they needed to fight, but after the war, we did not give them anything to feed their families with. Now they do not care if they die or not as long as they kill a couple of people with them. Dropping bombs on these people would not stop them. We need to figure out a way to stop them without violence, instead of doing the same thing they are doing.By killing the Taliban, we also kill many innocent people. According to Geo News, a Pakistani news channel, for every one member of the Taliban that is killed, three innocent people are killed with him. By doing this, we are not stopping terrorism but promoting it. The families of those innocent people do not blame the Taliban for three deaths, but the Americans.
If this problem were not solved quickly, we would end up in a worse situation. We might have another incident like the one on 9/11. We could get into more war; which could possibly start World War III if enough countries get involved. We could end up in another great depression because of the amount of money we are losing in war. Mr. Obama, you are elected because you promised this nation "change." I hope that change means, change in polices, not just a change in the executive branch.
Sincerely,
Aakash Arbab

Mr. President

Mr. President
I would like to congratulate you on becoming the first black president of the United States. As the president of the United States, you will have many responsibilities, such as the economy, healthcare, Iraq, the war on Terror, education and Gay rights, but the question is how you will fulfill your responsibilities.
In the past, we have spent a lot of money on war, which had affected our economy greatly. A huge number of jobs have been lost, because big business such as Circuit city has run out of business. I understand that the war on Terror is one of the biggest issues in the whole world, but the way we have handled it in the past is not very effective.
I believe that if we figure out a way, to deal with terrorism, the rest of the problems will be solved within a short time. We would not have to spend so much money overseas, fighting for a worthless cause. That money could be spent on healthcare or education. We would not have to pay dictators in the Middle East and South Asia to keep control in a certain areas for us. We probably would not be so hated if we stopped controlling other people. Yet getting rid of terrorism is not so easy.
When the Russians invaded Afghanistan; we paid the Taliban to fight the Russians and they did so willingly, but after the war we just left them there without caring about the problems, they could causes for us, later. During the war we gave them all the weapons they needed to fight, but after the war we did not give them any them if they die or not as long as they kill a couple of people with them. Dropping bombs on these people would not stop them to know what is right, instead of doing the same thing they are doing.
By killing the Taliban, we also kill many innocent people. For every one Taliban that is killed, three innocent people are killed with him. By doing this, we are not stopping terrorism but promoting it. The families of those innocent people do not blame the Taliban for three deaths, but the Americans.
If this problem were not solved quickly, we would end up in a worse situation. We might have another incident like the one on 9/11. We could get into more war; which could possibly start World War III if enough countries get involved. There should be another great depression and this time three could probably be nothing that could take us out of it.
Mr. Obama, you are elected because you promised this nation "change." I hope that change means, change in polices, not just a change in the executive branch.

Sincerely,
Aakash Arbab

Peace: Writing Assing. 3 Draft 3

What about peace? Do we really need peace? Do we really want peace? Why is it so important to us? Peace is something humans could never have. It is the most unreliable world in the English language.
A word that doesn't make any sense at all. World issues can never be solved in a peaceful way. When the Treaty of Versailles was set up to maintain world peace; it did not work. One country after another dropped out of it. Eventually we ended up with the World War II. With it came more jobs, more power, and more suppression. Between World War I and World War II we had the time of the great depression, the time of peace, the time good for no one. Even now, how many problems can you think of that have been solved in a peaceful manor. After 9/11, there was no negotiation with the Taliban or any other government in the Middle East. We just went in there and bombed the daylights out of them. Do you think we really have restored peace? It doesn't matter to us how many innocent people we kill to get something called "peace." It has been seven years since that horrible day when the planes were crashed into the twin towers. That day did not only change the lives of many Americans but also changed the meaning of Peace. Now Peace means "I am going to kill you before you kill me."
People are forgetting the real meaning of Peace. The meaning that God gave us as a present. In Pakistan for example, the Taliban are killing hundreds of innocent people, because of a decision that the government made. The decision to fight back. The decision to create even more wars. These problems could have been solved through negotiation with other side, but our governments didn't want that. They are afraid of a peaceful world. People want peace, but they don't have the power to have it. It is our government who does not want peace. It is them who have forgotten the real meaning of peace. It is because of them that the word "Peace" no longer makes any sense. They are the ones who have separated Jews from Christians and Christians from Muslims. No one likes war, no one likes regression either, but the people who benefit form the uproar of the wars want it to stay. Those people are the ones who we elect to lead our lives. The ones who have the power because of us. They like seeing the blood shed from the veins of their own people. They are the enemies of peace. Without them we would have no culture, no tradition, no race, and no religion. We would all be humans. We would all be the same. There would be nothing to fight about. We would have no reason to have the word peace. We would have it like we have air, water, and sunlight. We would be human.

Peace: Writing Assing.3 Draft 2

What about peace? Do we really need peace? Do we really want peace? Why is it so important to us? Peace is something humans could never have. It is the most unreliable world in the English language. A word that doesn't make any sense at all. World issues can never be solved in a peaceful way. When the Treaty of Versay was set up to maintain world peace; it did not work. One country after another dropped out of it. Eventually we ended up with the World War II. With was came more jobs, more power, and more suppression. Between World War I and World War II we had the time of the great depression, the time of peace, the time good for no one. Even now, how many problems can you think of that have been solved in a peaceful manor. After 9/11, there was no negotiation with the Taliban or any other government in the Middle East. We just went in there and bombed the daylights out of them. Do you think we really have restored peace? It doesn't matter to us how many innocent people we kill to get something called "peace." It has been seven years since that horrible day when the planes were crashed into the twin towers. That day did not only change the lives of many Americans but also changed the meaning of Peace. Now Peace means "I am going to kill you before you kill me." People are forgetting the real meaning of Peace. The meaning that God gave us as a present. In Pakistan for example, the Taliban are killing hundreds of innocent people, because of a decision that the government made. The decision to fight back. The decision to create even more wars. These problems could have been solved through negotiation with other side, but our governments didn't want that. They are afraid of a peaceful world. People want peace, but they don't have the power to have it. It is our government who does not want peace. It is our government who has forgotten the real meaning of peace. It is because of our government that the word "Peace" no longer makes any sense. They are the ones who have separated Jews from Christians and Christians from Muslims. No one likes war, no one likes regression either, but the people who benefit form the uproar of the wars want it to stay. Those people are the ones who elect to lead our lives. The ones who have the power because of us. They like seeing the blood shed from the veins of their own people. They are the enemies of peace. Without them we would have no culture, no tradition, no race, and no religion. We would all be humans. We would all be the same. There would be nothing to fight about. We would have no reason to have the word peace. We would have it like we have air, water, and sunlight. We would be human.

Peace: Writting Assig.3 Draft 1

What about peace? Do we really need peace? Do we really want peace? Why is it so important to us? Peace is something humans could never have. It is the most unreliable world in the English language. A word that doesn't make any sense at all.
World issues can never be solved in a peaceful way. When the Treaty of Versa was set up to maintain world peace; it did not work. One country after another dropped out of it. Eventually we ended up with the World War II. With was came more jobs, more power, and more suppression. Between World War I and World War II we had the time of the great depression, the time of peace, the time good for no one.
Even now, how many problems can you think of that have been solved in a peaceful manor. After the 9/11, there was no negotiation with the Taliban or any other government in the Middle East. We just went in there and bombed the daylights out of them. That is how we restored peace to this country. It doesn't matter to us how many innocent people we kill to get something called "peace."
It has been seven years since that horrible day when the planes were crashed into the twin towers. That day did not only change the lives of many Americans but also changed the meaning of Peace. Now Peace means "I am going to kill you before you kill me."
People are forgetting the real meaning of Peace. The meaning that God gave us as a present.
In Pakistan for example, the Taliban are killing hundreds of innocent people, because of a decision that the government made. The decision to fight back. The decision to create even more wars. These problems could have been solved through negotiation with other side, but our governments didn't want that. They are afraid of a peaceful world.
People want peace, but they don't have the power to have it. It is our government who does not want peace. It is our government who has forgotten the real meaning of peace. It is because of out government that the word "Peace" no longer makes any sense. They are the own who have separated Jews from Christians and Christians from Muslims.
No one likes war, no one likes regression either, but the people who benefit form the uproar of the wars want it to stay. They like seeing the blood shed from the veins of their own people. They are the enemies of peace.
Without them we would have no culture, no tradition, no race, and no religion. We would all be humans. We would all be the same. There would be nothing to fight about. We would have no reason to have the word peace. We would have it like we have air, water, and sunlight. We would be human.

The House/ Writing Assignment #2 Draft 3

Nothing could ever be heard from the house behind Uncle Tom’s garage. There were no cars, no people, not even mice or cats that could make the slightest sound. Every time I went past it, I felt a chill in my body.
The walls of the house were very gray and ghost like. The roof looked liked an old scarf with mud stains on it. The windows of the house which had Jesus and Mary painted on them with bright colors, had now turned into a very muddy colored paintings like the one’s form the Middle Ages. The house smelled like rotten milk forms the outside. I had always wondered why that place looked so lifeless. There were other houses in that neighborhood that no one had lived in for years; some probably even older than that house, still none of them looked so frightening.
As I entered Uncle’s house I wondered about what might have made that house so creepy. “Uncle why is that house so terrifying” I asked.
He knew exactly what I was talking about. “Why do you want to know?” He said. “Well Uncle I have been coming here for a long time now, and every time I am here the only thing I can think about is that house.”
He began the story unwillingly. “About fifteen years ago a couple lived in that house. They weren’t any different than anyone else in this town. They went to work in the morning, came to Church every Sunday and often went out on weekends. Then one rainy night she told him she was leaving him.”...“Who told who” I interrupted
Do you want to know the story or not?
“Yes!” I replied and he continued. “He could not believe what he had just heard. As she took off her wedding ring, he remembered how soft her hands had felt when he had given it to her. He remembered the first time they had met. Their first date. The day of their wedding, and many other happy times they had spent together. Now it was all over. It didn’t matter to her how much he loved her or what he would do with out her. She was leaving him for absolutely no good reason. Without thinking about it he took a knife and stabbed her as she turned around. She screamed but it could not be heard because of the lightning outside. Now there was blood everywhere. On the floor, on the wooden table they had made after they had first moved into that house.
What had he done? Why had he done it? She was the world for him. She was his life.
He looked at her, she was not dead yet. I hate you she whispered to him and she died. The light went out, he felt scared now. What if someone found out? He saw the lights of a police car from his house as it was passing by. He took the knife once more into his hand and stabbed himself.
There bodies were found three days later by the police in a dump truck.”
“How did they get there” I asked
“No one knows, but if you ever go inside the house; it wouldn’t look any different then what it looked like fifteen years ago.”
“But how do you know so much about it and you never told me what their names were or why he killed her.”
“There are some things that I do not know and some things I do not wish to tell you.”

The House/ Writing Assignment #2 Draft 2

Nothing could ever be heard from the house behind Uncle Tom’s garage. There were no cars, no people, not even mice or cats that could make the slightest sound. Every time I went past it, I felt a chill in my body.The walls of the house were very gray and ghost like. The windows of the house which had Jesus and Mary painted on them with bright colors, had now turned into a very muddy colored paintings like the one’s form the Middle Ages. I had always wondered why that place looked so lifeless. There were other houses in that neighborhood that no one had lived in for years; some probably even older than that house, still none of them looked so frightening.As I entered Uncle’s house I wondered about what might have made that house so creepy. “Uncle why is that house so terrifying” I askedHe knew exactly what I was talking about. “Why do you want to know?” He said. “Well Uncle I have been coming here for a long time now, and every time I am here the only thing I can think about is that house.”He began the story unwillingly. “About fifteen years ago a couple lived in that house. They weren’t any different than anyone else in this town. They went to work in the morning, came to Church every Sunday and often went out on weekends. Then one rainy night she told him she was leaving him.”...“Who told who” I interruptedDo you want to know the story or not?“Yes!” I replied and he continued. “He could not believe what he had just heard. As she took off her wedding ring, he remembered how soft her hands had felt when he had given it to her. He remembered the first time they had met. Their first date. The day of their wedding, and many other happy times they had spent together. Now it was all over. It didn’t matter to her how much he loved her or what he would do with out her. She was leaving him for absolutely no good reason. Without thinking about it he took a knife and stabbed her as she turned around. She screamed but it could not be heard because of the lightning outside. Now there was blood everywhere. On the floor, on the wooden table they had made after they had first moved into that house.What had he done? Why had he done it? She was the world for him. She was his life.He looked at her, she was not dead yet. I hate you she whispered to him and she died. The light went out, he felt scared now. What if someone found out? He saw the lights of a police car from his house as it was passing by. He took the knife once more into his hand and stabbed himself.There bodies were found three days later by the police in a dump truck.”“How did they get there” I asked“No one knows, but if you ever go inside the house; it wouldn’t look any different then what it looked like fifteen years ago.”“But how do you know so much about it and you never told me what their names were or why he killed her.”“There are some things that I do not know and some things I do not wish to tell you.”

The House/ Writing Assignment #2 Draft 1

Nothing could ever be heard from the house behind Uncle Tom’s garage. There were no cars no people not even mice or cats that could make the slightest sound. Every time I went past it, I felt a chill in my body.
The walls of the house were very gray and ghost like. The windows of the house which had Jesus and Mary painted on them with bright colors, had now turned into a very muddy colored paintings like the one’s form the Middle Ages. I had always wondered why that place looked so lifeless. There were other houses in that neighborhood that no one had lived in for years; some probably even older than that house, still none of them looked so frightening.
As I entered uncle’s house I wondered about what might have made that house so creepy.
“Uncle why is that house so terrifying” I asked
He knew exactly what I was talking about. “Why do you want to know?” He said.
“Well Uncle I have been coming here for a long time now, and every time I am here the only thing I can think about is that house.”
He began the story unwillingly. “About fifteen years ago a couple lived in that house. They weren’t any different than anyone ales in this town. They went to work in the morning, came to Church every Sunday and often went out on weekends. Then one rainy night she told him she was leaving him.”...
“Who told who” I interrupted
Do you want to know the story or not?
“Yes!” I replied and he continued.
“He could not believe what he had just heard. As she took off her wedding ring, he remembered how soft her hands had felt when he had given it to her. He remembered the first time they had met. Their first date. The day of their wedding, and many other happy times they had spent together. Now it was all over. It didn’t matter to her how much he loved her or what he would do with out her. She was leaving him for absolutely no good reason.
She turned around and he stabbed her with a knife. She screamed but it could not be heard because of the lightning outside. Now there was blood everywhere. On the floor, on the wooden table they had made after they had first moved into that house.
What had he done? Why had he done it? She was the world for him. She was him like.
He looked at her, she was not dead yet. I hate you she whispered to him and she died. The light went out, he felt scared now. What if someone found out? He saw the lights of a police car from his house. He took the knife once more into his hand and stabbed himself.
There bodies were found three days later by the police in a dump truck.”
“How did they get there” I asked
“No one knows, but if you ever go inside the house; it wouldn’t look any different then what it looked like fifteen years ago.”
“But how do you know so much about it and you never told me what their names were or why he killed her.”
“There are some things that I do not know and some things I do not wish to tell you.”

December 27 2007/ Draft 3

“Benazir Bhutto has been assassinated,” my mother told me as I entered the kitchen. For the first couple of seconds I could not believe what I had just head. How could it be true I asked myself? I sat down in shack. This was Benazir Bhutto, the Pakistani Pri-minister. The daughter of the East. She seemed like the person who would always be there. Her death wasn’t possible.
As a child I just saw her as another politician that came on T.V every now and than, however even as I grew up, I never really realized how important she was in my life. I never realized how much I admired her, and now this tragic event had completely confused me. I was angry at myself for criticizing her when I felt like she was wrong, but now it seemed like she was always right. I felt like something had sucked all the happiness out of me.
She was not related to me, she wasn’t even a family friend. Then why did I care so much? I had never even met her. Now I felt guilty. I felt like I had taken her for granted. Then another thought struck my mind; what about al those people who died with her. How would their families feel? I felt even guiltier. I was in a country where I was safe, where there were no suicide bombings or military operations and I had done nothing to deserve it. Before now I had never even cared about anyone dying in those bomb blasts or who was responsible for them.
So was it all over? Was there nothing to look forward to? I felt like this had happened before. Without even thinking about it for more than a second, I remembered everything my dad had told me about her father’s assassination during an army government by General Zia-Ul-Haq, and now General Pervaze Musharf had killed her in the same city that her father was killed in. Everything everyone had ever done for the Pakistan People’s Party seemed worthless. How could she have been killed with so many security guards, a bulletproof car and most importantly the people of her party, who were her biggest protection? As the day progressed, I felt even more depressed. I felt like I was suffering from an incurable disease. There was nothing in the world that anyone could have ever done to make her come back. Seeing the hopeless faces of the People’s Party workers made that winter day darker than usual.
At night when I was watching BBC, I saw her three children, one of them my age. I started to think what it would be like to lose my mother. How could I live without her? I felt selfish and egotistical. I was taking everyone in my life for granted. I had never seen death so closely before. I wanted to cry but I couldn’t because in a way that would be accepting her death. Also because half of my family who were with me at the time was against the Pakistan People’s Party, so if I cried in front of them, they would think I was crazy; crying for a politician. I felt like I hated them. They were being very insensitive and they didn’t even care about how my parents and I felt about her.
That night I couldn’t go to sleep. I couldn’t tell my parents how I felt because I knew that would make them even more miserable. Then I remembered what I had hard a man saying on T.V earlier; “How many Bhutto’s can you kill, out of every house a Bhutto will come.” That one sentence gave me a very comforting feeling, as I fell asleep.

December 27, 2008/ 2nd Draft

“Benazir Bhutto has been assonated,” my mother told me as I entered the kitchen. For the first couple of seconds I could not believe what I had just head. How could it be true I asked myself? I sat down in shack. This was Benazir Bhutto, the Pakistani Pri-minister. The daughter of the East. She seemed like the person who would always be there. Her death wasn’t possible.As a child I just saw her as another politician that came on T.V every now and than, however even as I grew up, I never really realized how important she was in my life. I never realized how much I admired her, and now this tragic event had completely confused me. I was angry at myself for criticizing her when I felt like she was wrong, but now it seemed like she was always right. I felt like something had sucked all the happiness out of me.She was not related to me, she wasn’t even a family friend. Then why did I care so much? I had never even met her. Now I felt guilty. I felt like I had taken her for granted. Then another thought struck my mind; what about al those people who died with her. How would their families feel? I felt even guiltier. I was in a country where I was safe, where there were no suicide bombings or military operations and I had done nothing to deserve it. Before now I had never even cared about anyone dying in those bomb blasts or who was responsible for them.So it was all over? Was there nothing to look forward to? I felt like this had happened before. Without even thinking about it for more than a second, I remembered everything my dad had told me about her father’s assignation during an army government by General Zia-Ul-Haq, and now General Pervaze Musharf had killed her in the same city that her father was killed in. Everything everyone had ever done for the Pakistan People’s Party seemed worthless. How could she have been killed with so many security guards, a bulletproof car and most importantly the people of her party, who were her biggest protection? As the day progressed, I felt even more depressed. There was nothing in the world that anyone could have ever done to make her come back. Seeing the hopeless faces of the People’s Party workers made that winter day darker than usual.At night when I was watching BBC, I saw her three children, one of them my age. I started to think what it would be like to lose my mother. How could I live without her? I felt selfish and annoyed with myself. I was taking everyone in my life for granted. I had never seen death so closely before. I wanted to cry but I couldn’t because in a way that would be accepting her death, also because half of my family who were with me at the time was against the Pakistan People’s Party, so if I cried in front of them, they would think I was crazy; crying for a politician.That night I couldn’t go to sleep. I couldn’t tell my parents how I felt because I knew that would make them even more miserable. Then I remembered what I had hard a man saying on T.V earlier; “How many Bhutto’s can you kill, out of every house a Bhutto will come.” That one sentence gave me a very comforting feeling, as I fell asleep.

December 27, 2007

“Benazir Bhutto has been assonated,” my mother told me as I entered the kitchen. For the first couple of seconds I could not believe what I had just head. How could it be true I asked myself? I sat down in shack. This was Benazir Bhutto, the Pakistani Pri-minister. The daughter of the East. She seemed like the person who would always be there. Her death wasn’t possible.
As a child I just saw her as another politician that came on T.V every now and than, but even as I grew up, I never really realized how important she was in my life. I never realized how much I admired her, and now this tragic even had completely confused me. I was angry at myself for criticizing her when I felt like she was wrong, but now it seemed like she was always right. I felt like something had sucked all the happiness out of me.
She was not related to me, she wasn’t even a family friend. Then why did I care so much? I had never even met her. Now I felt guilty. I felt like I had taken her for granted. Then another thought struck my mind; what about al those people who died with her. How would their families feel? I felt even guiltier. I was in a country where I was safe, where there were no suicide bombings or military operations and I had done nothing to deserve it.
So it was all over? Was there no hope? I felt like this had happened before. Without even thinking about it for more than a second, I remembered everything my dad had told me about her father’s assignation during an army government by General Zia-Ul-Haq, and now General Pervaze Musharf had killed her in the same city that her father was killed in.
There was not hope. Everything everyone had ever done for the Pakistan People’s Party seemed worthless. How could she have been killed with so many security guards, a bulletproof car and most importantly the people of her party, who were her biggest protection? As the day progressed, I felt even more depressed. There was nothing in the world that anyone could have ever done to make her come back. Seeing the hopeless faces of the People’s Party workers made that winter day darker than usual.
At night when I was watching BBC, I saw her three children, one of them my age. I started to think what it would be like o lose my mother. How could I live without her? I felt selfish and annoyed with myself. I was taking everyone in my life for granted. I had never seen death so closely before. I wanted to cry but I couldn’t because in a way that would be accepting, also because half of my family who were with me at the time was against the Pakistan People’s Party, so if I cried in front of them, they would think I was crazy; crying for a politician.
That night I couldn’t go to sleep. I couldn’t tell my parents how I felt because I knew that would make them even more miserable. Then I remembered what I had hard a man saying on T.V earlier; “How many Bhuttos can you kill, out of every house a Bhutto will come.” That one senence gave me a very comforting feeling, as I fell asleep.