The Scissor's story-stories from an 8 year old

This is a story that I wrote when I was about 8 years old. I will not change the spelling or change how I wrote it then. enjoy! :)

The Scissor's story

                           Once upon a time, there lived a little girl. One time she took some

scissors from her school. She put it in her shirt pochet.

She did not like Church. She would close her ear's and eyes!

One time she moved far away and She wanted to take the scissors back,

but she could'nt.

One time an Evangelist came to the church, and he said: God know's

Where ever you are, and What you're doing,

and if you want to get saved come to the alter and get saved. many came and

she was one of them.

So God forgave r sin's, even the scissors.

The Seasons Poems

This is the original. Nothing has been changed
1st of the Seasons Poem:

the Spring Poem

In the days of Sunshine

When the grass flows underyou.

Swaying back and forth.

When flowers are blooming.

and when the Sun is hot on my back.

I run in the hot spring day

feelling the hotness under my foot.

runing and playing in the

hot spring day.

Poems from an 8 year old

I have decided to blog my old poems from when I was about eight. Hope you enjoy them! Oh, and btw, none of the spelling has changed. I have kept the poems I wrote exactly the way they were written. :) the "i" in "prase" was added later.

a Poem of Praise

When ever I would hear you. Oh my God. 

I would prase thee all my days. 

if I ever sin against thee.

please forgive me oh God.

in my Song of prase I would sing all my prases to thee

oh God.

Rachelle age 8

Sunday 2/29/04 feb.

Summer?

This, for a change, is older brother Wes. When Rachelle left to either be stuck helping my mom do grocery shopping, or using that as an excuse to drop by the mall to look at and try on "cute" shoes, I found that she left her gmail account logged on, and decided to go for it. So in between my dreadfully heavy schedule, I managed to slip in a couple of words without her noticing. Hopefully.

First days of school have come. TV ads joyfully celebrate this dreaded occasion. Newspaper ad inserts go crazy over what they think is a big opportunity for them, touting such mad phrases as "Mattress World: your back to school headquarters!" and "go back to school on an egg!". Such joyfulness is expected to be passed on to the consumers, which actually consist of highly-annoyed-at-stupid-back-to-school-ads moms who are in any mood other than those happy-go-lucky moody mothers depicted in cheesy advertising campaigns. And I doubt that the child is half as excited as the mother, unless you're a total school freak, aka "show-off" aka "one-upper", and pretty much aka "loser".

Nonetheless, though our desire to avoid school at all costs is more rampant than ever, it is practically stuffed down our throats. Many people go into the school year saying "well, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade". But by the end of the semester they end up saying "and then the lemonade becomes bitter and hard and turns to pigswill". This however, is only the first semester. The terrible feeling that accompanies the second semester is likened to one who has drunk this terrible disaster of a drink called "lemonade" that they first concocted when the school year started, after the lemons were thrown at them.

Surprised and completely unprepared teachers come, seemingly in a daze. This is apparent by some of the assignments given at the beginning of the semester, including writing essays on "what I didn't do over the summer". Wow. What a question. For the overachievers, the answer would be "I didn't sit around all summer watching TV, posting facebook updates, playing video games, and drinking something that gave me tongue hives". For the lazy, the answer could be "I didn't become a teacher suck-up by overachieving my tush all summer with no time for fun." And for the adventurous, the answer could be "I didn't discover that if you mix clorox and brake fluid it will make a lot of smoke. At the same time, I didn't discover that it takes the local fire department four minutes and thirty-nine seconds to get to our house. But don't take my word for it."

Which brings me to an interesting question: what didn't you do this summer? Whether it's not getting to go to the beach, or not testing what appeared to be fuzzy chocolate cheesecake on steroids, I still want to know. Leave a comment, and describe in as many as three sentences what you didn't do this summer. And if you happen to be an overachiever, then don't let what I said earlier get to you, us normal people are probably just jealous.

Maybe.

Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear,
Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair,
So Fuzzy Wuzzy wasn't so Fuzzy,
Was he?

self defense with Hayden

Don't you just hate it when you're going about your daily lives and suddenly a southern equatorial Guinean nomad samurai warrior comes and tries to give you a noogie? Well do I have a solution for you! I don't have experience with karate, thanks to elders who restrained me from further lessons after the first week for unrealistic reasons such as '' karate chopping every vase, and side wind kicking all the cups of the table" which is totally not true....kinda... ish... maybe... Anyway, lets start with hands. Forget all that duck weave and karate chop mumbo jumbo, just pretend that your imaginary friend Bob, or Fred or Tom or Dexter or Snookums and his dragon are waving nonfat low cholesterol African water buffalo milk yogurt (which you're allergic to) and you're trying to karate chop and windmill punch the yogurt cup out of the million handed dragon. Now, for the feet. Well...just act like there are some mutant slobbering frogs crawling up and down your legs. 
And then for the face. Act like you're putting your nose drops in your eyes (it gives you that macho look as if you know their inner intellectual being) and you will have mastered the technique. And thats all for Self Defense with Hayden.  (P.S the same technique can be used for Kazakhstanian nomads) ( P.P.S i haven't tried it before but i'm pretty sure it works.) (P.P.P.S i have always wanted to try it.) 


--Reporting live from the school room, this is Rachelle. 
Remember (says Hayden), non-fat, low cholesterol, African water buffalo milk yogurt, is your worst enemy! 

Resurrection

One day, the flower fell to thinking how he could turn this field of thorns and weeds, to a field of beautiful flowers. He thought long and hard, but could find no solution. But, after thinking, and thinking, he finally remembered his children. The only way his children could live,was for him to die, or they would die also. And, finding no other solution, he slowly wilted, shedding his pods where his children were, as if he were crying. Yet, he never forgot how he was saving his children, and smiled. The flower had smiled his last smile. But all was not lost. The pods containing his children broke, and the seeds spilled out, and settled into the dirt.  Slowly, they took root, and grew,shining bright, because they knew what their Father had done for them. And throughout time, and thorny field slowly turned to a field full of flowers. All were flowers, yet each were different in their own way. Though each one had its own battle to do with the thorns trying to choke them out. A large oak tree then grew in the middle of the field, shading the flowers at times when the sun was hot, and protecting them from the elements of time. Much like a Father does when protecting His children.  

Once Upon a time, there lived a flower amongst a field of weeds and thorns. It was the only true flower, and a beautiful one it certainly was. With delicate white petals, red edging, and a gold center.