my second paper for english composition.

this one is based on a memory of or remembering something that you've done.

Castle from a Fantasy

I always thought that living in Indiana meant I’d never visit a castle. Looking at pictures of castles in Ireland where they are surrounded by mountains and emerald colored trees, I knew that I would never have an opportunity to make it there. That is before I knew about a wonder that was sitting right under my nose. Meyers Castle is nestled right outside Crown Point, Indiana. When my boyfriend Christopher and I pulled up to a large gate right off the highway on an evening in late spring, we had no idea what was in store for us.

After parking, a shuttle came to pick us up. The man driving the shuttle was very pleasant and amusingly clever. At this point, we couldn’t see anything, and I was definitely bubbling over with anticipation. As we crept up what seemed like a mountainous hill, the castle began to unveil itself. I saw a white peacock, a courtyard with a stone walk-way leading up to the most beautiful architecture I have ever seen in person, and white lights looked like little stars lining arched light posts that guided the way. The shuttle pulled up to the back door, and I tried to gather myself from already being completely awed. A large man in a black suit checked our I.D.’s and we were in. I had trouble keeping myself from giggling and speed walking down a stone corridor; an adult in my version of a Wonka Chocolate Factory.

I hesitantly put my hand on the handle of one of two giant dark wooden doors, thinking that there was still some way we were not allowed there, and the smile across my face started to hurt my cheeks. We walked into what seemed like a dark cave, but it was filled with its own Aura Borealis of lights. Mellow reggae music played as we walked to up to the bar. Patiently waiting for our drinks, I evaluated that the basement was broken up into multiple sections. Some had brown leather couches with end tables to each side, glowing with the light of candles. Others had high tables with equally tall chairs seating two people. There was a whole wall of overly large recliners, with people sipping on martinis, drinking wine, and conversing with a calmness that only the atmosphere could create.

I was eager to explore the outside. I grabbed Christopher’s hand and followed a few people that seemed like they knew where they were going. We stepped out onto an extremely large stone balcony. Every ten or so feet there was a statue; statues of griffins and full-bodied women. Overwhelmed with joy and excitement, I kissed Christopher long and hard. He took my hand again, and walked me down the stairs of the same walk-way I first saw when we began our journey. The little star lights lit us up and a soft night breeze blew through the trees, making them sing slightly beneath our quiet conversation. There had been a light rain earlier in the evening and the grass around us was bold and dewy. When we reached the end of the walk-way, we did not spin on our heels but slowly turned on them. We were facing the castle; it was in our full view. I had to catch my breath because it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

Once we were back inside, Christopher left me for a few moments to use the restroom, and I walked around more. I found more rooms encased with white sheer fabric. I made my way over to the right side of the bar where the band was playing and people were loosely dancing with colorful lights flashing all around them. Dark wood thrones, with red velvet seating, graced each side of an elaborately carved fireplace. I took a seat in one of the thrones, and waited till I saw Christopher come strolling back out. His face was bright as he exclaimed, “The bathrooms even have attendants!” It felt as if this experience kept getting more sophisticated by the second, and I pondered whether or not anyone would believe me when I told them the story of how I visited a castle; furthermore, a castle in Indiana.

As the evening closed in, I wished that I never had to leave. We too, among friends, found ourselves in the over-sized recliners. Smiles spread across our faces, casually talking, but thoroughly enjoying ourselves. Everything seemed so fairy tale and perfect. For a mere second I kicked myself for not bringing a camera, but then I realized it was all about the memory that had already completely burned itself into my brain. For so many years I was convinced that I did not have a romantic bone in my body, but I felt romance shooting from every nerve ending that evening. I felt passion and wonder in ways that I never had. I possess this memory in a very deep way and completely cherish it for every way that it made me feel. In my mind, pictures could never adequately capture how vivid my emotions ran, and I challenge any camera to try.

sometimes i miss writing...

this is my first paper for my english composition class. i'll have 5 done by the end of the semester, and i have to pick 3 to build a portfolio.

Look at it in Moonlight

It is roughly ten in the morning. The smell of fresh brewed coffee and stale cigarette smoke is thick in the air. In this living room, little rays of light are peeking through the curtains layered with dust. A coffee table sits at the very center of the room, showing signs of a fun evening full of card playing and beer drinking. Beneath the table, spread across the floor, is a huge black rug that never seems to get clean. The carpet hides stains that were made by people acting carelessly over the years, but the base carpet will not be silenced of its story. Parts of it creep from the outer corners of the rug, rearing its ugliness.

In the early hours of the day the living room is a lonely place. Besides the obnoxious sound of a washing machine coming from the other room, the living room is otherwise silent. Action figures from various horror and science fiction movies, almost asking to be played with, line the top of four large book cases full of DVD’s. It is apparent that movie lover’s live here, but also obvious the room is in desperate need of a deep cleaning. The hunter green walls are laced with cobwebs in the corners, moving around as if there were some kind of breeze coming in. There is no airy breeze whistling through this room, but it could sure use one.

In between the bookcases is an entertainment center with a silver 36 inch television that is about 5 to 6 years old. Atop is an XBOX 360 with 2 cords dangling off, reaching to controllers that are erratically placed on the coffee table. Video games are scattered next to the game counsel in the never ending dust. A giant clock hangs above the entertainment center. Its numbers are all in Roman numeral form. The time never changes and is frozen on 2:43.

The sound of the washing machine stops for a moment after a loud buzz, and the room becomes oddly still. Only to then be disrupted by a thundering slam of the door as an enormous angry faced man enters. He tosses his keys on the table making an ear-piercing clank when they land. Without removing his boots, he stomps through the living room into his room, slamming the door behind him. The objects in the room shake as if a small earthquake just hit. All the action figures stare blankly at nothing as they did before; still, they remain unfazed by the lack of attention.

The day continues on as it usually does, and night falls rather quickly upon this living room. Clicking the lights on and opening the windows allows the room to breathe a sigh of relief. The smell of fall air replaces the stagnant smell of cigarette smoke fairly quickly; replacing the humidity that was once there. There are sounds of crickets singing away flowing into the room as if it has become a part of the outside. Calmness overtakes the discomfort that was here in the earlier hours.

A different place now, the dust is hidden in the shadows. A handsome man with crystal blue eyes turns on music; the room comes to life. The music is beginnings of a soundtrack for whatever may occur here. The man clears off the cluttered table. He replaces the mess with a single deck of playing cards.

People from upstairs barreled in, boisterous voices in tow, and the presence of the room became much more diverse than it was before. It is less bleak, more endearing. Shuffling cards and boughs of laughter can be heard. The smell of smoke is no longer stale but fresh. As beer and whiskey flow like wine, voices talk more over one another. A promiscuous British man brings in a drunken woman from the bar. He picks up three of the lonely action figures and imitates a fight that he tried to break up while they were out.

As the night winds down, the people disappear to their rooms, and the living room is somewhat cleared out except for the remains of a gathering. New beer bottles replace the ones that were there before. Impressions are left in the black rug from people sitting. Different cards are spread across the table and a score card with everyone’s name written across the top. It will all surely sit till the next day.

The handsome man with crystal blue eyes enters the room one final time. Attempting to clear off the table, he catches a ray of the moon shining on the floor, and follows its trail out the window. With a short moment of thought he turns off the lights. Pulling the curtains as far open as they will go, the room fills with a luminescent glow. The room shines in its success. Every little thing encased in moonlight. What this room once was has become a distant memory till the morning. The living room sleeps. Rest assured it will see day and night continually in different settings for the rest of its existence.