March 7th, 2016 This exercise was done with the entire class. Everyone was required to rip a sheet of paper in to thirds, then write on each: a furry animal, a problem (that could happen to a person) and an emotion.
These are what I wrote:
However, what I received was...
Scenario: Well... you get it. Write a story. About 5 minutes.
A raccoon from Western Montana bit a dog and got kicked out of his home. Dejected, he decided to take a road trip to see the ocean--and get as far away from dogs as he could. He hitched a ride in the back of the neighbor's pickup and clung for dear life through pot holes and rain. Sadly, the truck returned home after a short trip to the bank before the raccoon had time to switch to another vehicle. He hid beneath the porch overnight and decided to try again the next morning. To his delight--a truck with a darkened canopy arrived.
A quote from my English teacher: "If you're not suffering for your art, you're doing it wrong."
Shortly after, I discovered the Most Dangerous Writing App. If you stop typing for too long: everything gets erased(!).
March 9th, 2016
We continued with the story and then had to change it according to the teacher's instructions.
He struggled to climb into the back of the truck. The bed liner was dry but slippery and his paws had trouble getting a grip. Finally he found a dark corner by the wheel recess and closed his eyes. He imagined the smell of the ocean he had never seen before. He figured it would smell like sun-warmed trout and day-old cheeseburgers.
[switch to poetry]
The ocean like cheese and
mustard sunsets with
discarded fish and a salty breeze
The color of twilight on the endless bay
Free of dogs and humans
But full of decay
He could eat until he was happy and fat
Safe and warm, the king of the Southern beach
The envy of every
Inland Northwest raccoon
[switch to a News Report]
A raccoon was found today upon a throne built of human trash and seashells brilliantly secured together with ruby red string. When approached by our reporter--the raccoon quickly scurried away with a fish in his mouth and refused to answer any questions. For more--if you have any information, please contact our offices at 208-555-NEWS.
[switch to First Person Perspective, back at the beginning of the story]
I never liked the dogs on our street. They were rowdy--barking at all hours of the night. I bit him because I was hungry and he was in my food dish. His human owner prowled the porch for a few nights but I decided I wouldn't try again. That's when I made the plan to get out of Dodge. I'd heard the stories: skunks and rabbits who had high-tailed it to greener pastures. I'd be happy if I never saw another damn dog in my life. My first few attempts to escape were foiled, by rain or humans, until I finally caught a break. A big loud truck with a topper on it--perfect to hide myself beneath and stay warm.