1

Journal 6: Write a story where one character does something intentionally negative that turns out to be positive for the recipient.
By Thomas Johnston
There I was, walking along, and all of a sudden my foot was ran over by a car. Ok, maybe I shouldnt have stepped out into the street, but I
have a right to put my foot wherever I please. Its in the constitution I think. So having my foot ran over hurt, and I was pissed as a bear poked
with a stick. I wanted compensation for my hurt foot.
I hailed a taxi and shouted at the Taxi driver. After that car!
Well, he responded with a What car? This is a pretty busy street.
It then came upon me that I didnt get a good look at the car that ran over my foot.
Just drive, I screamed. And so off we went. From the downtown restaurants, to the uptown slums, we tracked a random car I picked. The
car stopped underneath an overpass, in a dusty field. The driver got out and went down an alleyway. We stopped on the other side of the road.
The fare is 20 bucks. exclaimed the taxi driver.
I responded with I dont hunt, and got out of the car. I proceeded to calmly and orderly smash the other guy's car with a crowbar I found
nearby. Because I was orderly, I started with the windows, then the lights, slash the tires, and finally ripped the doors off their hinges. The owner
came back and chased me down. I couldnt escape because my foot hurt too much. The police came and collected me and now Im here,
receiving the best psychiatric help.
By Abigail Kammeyer
Tyler pounded his fist on his steering wheel, glaring out the windsheild at the glowing store light. His passenger was a slim girl who had
the sharp beauty of a wilted flower, and she flinched away from the thud.
Hey, hell be here. She rubbed the inside of her arm, a series of small bruises and small holes riddled the skin. He promised.
Yeah, but hes late. We have to get going.
But-
Were leaving, Tyler grumbled, putting his car in drive and screeching out of the parking lot. The girl started messing with the hem of the
hoodie she was wearing, and a twitch had started under her eye. Tyler noticed, and scowled. Great now I have to put up with you without your
drugs. Thanks a lot unnamed dealer. Her attention snapped forward as sirens screamed close to them.
Theyre going to the gas station, she turned around and looked out the back window. She turned back around, pale, and clicked the radio
on. As she thought, there was their local newscaster blaring through the speakers.
At this time we are live at the aresst of who is assumed as a herion dealer. This middle aged male is said to sell to minors and also has a
human trafficking business involving teen females. The police have been searching for this individual for a long time, and thanks to a watchful
cashier, he wont be on the street ever again. Tyler and the girl looked at each other as the broadcst faded into static.
Oh no-
No this is good! Tyler exclaimed. If we had been there any longer, we would have been picked up too!
But I need-
Help. Youre going to get over this. You dont need those drugs. And if you were still buying form him, he would have brought you into the
ring. Itll be okay once you stop. I promise.
The girl was shaking violently, but nodded, willing to try and stop for him. Later on in her life, she actually became a drug specialist, and
was often called into the scene of human trafficking chains. As for Tyler, he is married to a recovered heroin addict who is claimed to be one of the
most brilliant specialists in the state.

By Alexander Milam
There was once a man with a can. His can was filled with soup. This man was hated by all of the members of the community because he never
ate the soup in the can. He would just carry it around wherever he went. For example, if he went to the bathroom he would still have it with toilet
paper in one hand and can in the other. Whenever he was at school, he had pencil in one hand and can in the other. So one day, an angry farmer
in the community decided he would try to kill this man. So he devised a plan to cross paths with him and push him in front of a bus that always
passes by this place he likes to walk. When the time came, the farmer did exactly as he planned. He pushed this man with the can in the road, but
this time for some reason the bus actually was a soup truck. It hit him hard, and he went flying down the road, but he landed on some mattresses
that a mattress truck dropped in the road and luckily survived. The soup truck driver ran over to the man and apologized with much regret from his
mistake. He then gave him a lifetime of free soup cans for free..
By Dakota Smith
Henry had worked under Enrique for sixteen years, helping the label director produce beats for big names, and had never been this
betrayed. In his vault of beats, Henry picked his best fifteen to prepare for his debut album, one long promised by the label. Thats why murder was
on Henrys mind when his beats were used for the new $ilver Thugg album, and he was left without credit again.
Snip, snip, and the brake fluid spurted all over Henrys knockoff designer polo.
Sixteen fucking years. Sixteen years under that cock-sucking cholo and it was all a waste! Henry muttered to himself, as he slunk back to
his old Toyota. As he walked, his eyes occasionally darted at the Bugatti he had sabotaged, a now four hundred thousand dollar death trap.
Drinking from a football-shaped bottle, the malt liquor spilled onto the brake fluid stains on Henrys chest as he waited for Enrique to leave
the studio.
The tall Puerto Rican stepped out into the twilight, his leather shoes clapping on the sidewalk. The suicide doors slid up, and he bent his
lanky frame into the foreign supercar. The engine hummed, and he roared out into the dark California night.
The car zoomed at eighty miles an hour towards the intersection, with an intoxicated Henry following behind. As the light changed to red,
the Bugatti maintained speed, but Enrique swerved toward a median nearby. His car popped over the curb, and ran into a light pole. The tires kept
spinning, but Enrique stumbled out alive.
The security cameras proved Henrys guilt, and he was sentenced to 40 years. Enrique survived the wreck, and Henrys stolen music sold
over three million copies in a month. No man was innocent, but the meek always seemed to lose in California.
By Lily Ullenius
Far From Home
When you let your heart guide you, you will find what truly makes you happy in life, or at least thats what Ive heard. I dont really see the
point in doing whatever makes a person happy because every time Ive seen someone live like that, it has always came crashing downhill. So
instead of letting my heart guide me through life, I let my brain make all of the important decisions. I have a job at a international trade station, it
isnt that exciting, but it pays the bills, and then some. Ive always stayed in and studied during college, and put my future first, in front of my
useless dreams. That was how I lived my life, well, until recently.
Ever since he had started working here, I had peacefully been going about my monotonous days. Enjoying the repetition and boredom.
Then he was assigned to me to train. It was awful. I just couldnt stand him tearing apart my schedule, agreements between businesses that I gave
him to read, taxes to file, anything that had to be done in a timely manner was not done. He just went about his business on his own schedule, not

3
a business schedule. He would talk about his dreams of saving up enough money to eventually travel the world for a year. I despised him. One
day I had had enough of his mindless mannerisms, and called him to my office.
I was new to this business just like he was, so I didnt want to cause any trouble that could get us both fired. He came in an to my surprise,
was very polite, and apologetic, but wanted to know why I had such a problem with his dream. I explained to him that it was not professional to be
so irresponsible as to not want a stable job. Deep inside, my dreams were striving to break free from the cage I had trapped them in long ago.
Listening to him speak of his hopes, dreams, and inspirations, helped me realize what kind of a taxing life I had been living. I had only been
thinking of the future, instead of just living and enjoying the present.
After a long and heartfelt conversation, I felt a change spark inside of me. I smiled a lot more, especially when he walked by. I grew fond of
the sight of him, his voice, maybe too fond. He asked me out a few years ago, and we have been together since. It makes me smile just thinking
about it as I type this, from a condo on the waters of the Nile River, far from home, but with him.
By Lucia Zuberbuhler
10 weeks after the incident my doctor told me that I was pregnant with the evidence of the violation I experienced. It wasnt too late for me
to kill what was left of the night that gave me nightmares every time I closed my eyes. I was sitting in my doctors clinic, waiting for my cleansing.
My hands were crossed behind my back, as far away from my belly as possible. My appointment was scheduled for 2.30 pm. It was already 3.13
and I was still sitting there, waiting for the execution. Next to me a mother sat down with her 4 year old son in her arms. They looked tired and they
were coughing their lungs out. The similarity between them was stunning. He looked at his mom and she brushed out the hair that has fallen into
his eyes. She smiled at him and he put his little chubby hand on her cheeks. After a while he got bored and he stood up and started exploring the
waiting room. Even though he was sick, his eyes were abuzz with curiosity. He looked at every magazine, amazed by all the pictures, asked his
mom question after question, until his eyes found me. With a shy voice he asked, Why do you have to see the doctor?
Without answering the question I sprang up, ran out of the clinic, smiling from ear to ear, barely capable of waiting until I could see my own
baby smile.