A thin white line on a cold black road

A thin white line on a cold black road
A thousand yellow eyes gleaming in the dark
Losing balance,
Tipping over,
When a firm, strong hand catches me
Your hands
Your warm hands

On an island mounted in the middle of the sea
Black tides of cold fathomless depths
Waves crashing about,
Frozen to my bones ,
When with your firm, strong arms
You embrace me,
You embrace me

In a tower of marble, a spiral glass stairs
Waters flood the halls below
Climbing upward,
And only up,
When the marble crumbles and the glass breaks
I’m set free,
You’ve set me free

The worst college essay ever.txt

The truth is my ancestors are a part of the legacy that dates as far back as the beginning of time. In my veins flows the royal blood of heroes and kings that had reigned over empires, founded nations, and created history. Our race, with our superior mental acuity and physical strength, has come to this planet to enlighten the lesser beings of culture, technology and morality. David, Alexander the Great, King Arthur, Isaac Newton, Napoleon, Albert Einstein, you name it. Their great achievements were only possible due to the great ability of our kind. Each of us, with our unique abilities has engraved everlasting marks in history, and entire chapters of history books are dedicated to celebrate their achievements.
However, with great power comes great responsibility, which Adolf Hitler failed to recognize. He brought sadness and suffering to the world with his rash and drastic actions, and I, along with my fellow leaders of the allies, had to come to a heart-breaking decision that he had to be stopped at all costs.
After the case of Hitler, we have exiled ourselves from the eyes of society and retreated to the shadows. However, as of recent years I see signs of a great danger that may soon bring mankind to its destruction.
We have already formulated multiple plans to stop this event from coming to pass, but we require your assistance as well. It is imperative that I get admitted to Harvard; the resources and possible relations that may formulate during my years there will become very useful when I save the world from destruction. So, I plead you, for the survival of your kin, select me as your adequate candidate to be admitted to your school.

P.S. A financial aid wouldn't go amiss as well.

Chocolate Cake

Tinkle.


The gentle sound of a bronze chime announced the arrival of a customer. I looked up, trying to put up a smile, although, it being close to closing time, I was secretly wishing for whoever it was to turn around and get out through the very doors he had entered.
When I saw the face of the person who had entered, I froze.

It was me.

-----------------------------------------

I took the plate holding 2000kcal worth of chocolate cake and a cup of warm milk that he had (or should I say that I had) ordered and laid it down on his table. With a gleeful look in his eyes, he dug in without hesitation, devouring within seconds what had previously been an elegant masterpiece of chocolate and cream. I wasn’t quite sure how this 5-year-old looking me was going to pay for all this, but I pushed the thought to the back of my mind. There was a more pressing matter at hand. Why did he come here? Was he looking for me? More importantly, HOW ON EARTH WAS I TALKING TO MY YOUNGER SELF?
But before I could make sense out of this incomprehensible situation, he, having finished the cup of milk as well, opened his mouth.

“Is there anything you want to say to me?”

-----------------------------------------

The coffee shop was closed, but I wasn’t alone.
The boy sat in the seat across the table, humming to himself absent-mindedly. The tune had almost a nostalgic feeling to it.
“Stop trying so hard.”
Breaking the awkward silence, I blurted out what I had been on my mind all these years.
““I’m telling you, it’s not worth it. You’re just going to raise your parents’ expectations and your brother’s going to have a pretty shitty time, thanks to you.”
The bitter complaints did not seem to have any effect on the little boy. He was still looking up at me with those black eyes glinting with the signs of innocence that I had lost many years ago. Maybe he was too young to properly register the implications of my words.
My heart started to beat faster. I felt the blood creeping up my neck. Something about the naïve, happy expression on his face was getting on my nerves.
“Not to mention, you’re going to get really, really unhealthy, sitting on your ass studying for all day long with no friends, then you’re going to get a manic depression with an eating disorder starving yourself until you pass out.”
I was positively shouting by now.
“Worst of all, you’re going to fail. You’re a loser. You’re not going to win the Nobel Prize; you’re not going to get into MIT. Spare yourself of troubles and quit it now, quick and painless.”
The room fell silent again.


-----------------------------------------


“Well then,” said the boy rising from his seat, “I guess that’s about all that I needed to know.”
He had a steely tone in his voice, an air of indifference that was grotesquely jarring with his figure of a 5-year-old. I was confused. This wasn’t the kind of reaction that I had been expecting.
“What…?”
“I said, I guess that’s about all that I needed to know. I was going to ask you a few more things, but now I see that it would be pointless to ask a pitiful loser like you for advice on practically anything.”
I was astonished more than anything. Had I been that arrogant, rude, obnoxious son-of-a-bitch in my youth?
“You’re so afraid of failing that you won’t even try? Even a kid like me can tell that that’s the worst failure of all. You also work at this beautiful café, but you’re still too sore from failing as whatever you had been that you don’t even realize that this was actually one of the things that you’ve always wanted to do. So don’t worry about becoming a failure, you are one already even without trying.”
I was dumbstruck. Each of his words jabbed painfully at my heart.
“Thanks for the cake by the way, it was delicious.”
With another gentle tinkle of the bell, he walked out through the door.

Coffee Shop Retirement

“Aw, man, I’m so tired.”

That’s what Jake would say every single day. He was possibly the most exhausted person on earth. Dark shades around the eyes, slightly hunched shoulders, and greasy dark hair screamed TIRED all day long. Judy couldn’t imagine what kind of work he had to do to be so tired all the time. Just standing beside him made her feel better about herself, since standing next to him for 5 seconds was enough to make anyone feel as if they were the luckiest and happiest person on earth.

“What’s wrong? Work again?” Judy asked, out of politeness rather than anything.

Jake let out an exhausted sigh. He looked as if holding his head up straight was costing him more energy than he could muster.

“No, not exactly… although come to think of it, I think I might be better off jumping off a roof now than having to do all those stuff,” said Jake, looking out the window almost wistfully.

Judy had already heard him say this many times before, so she wasn’t too worried. However, she couldn’t help but feel disturbed at such thought and changed the subject.

“Jake, did you know that Professor Knowels is retiring this year?”

“No,” he said, taken aback, “but I thought she was only 50-something right now. A bit early to retire, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, I know!” exclaimed Judy. She was excited to tell her story now that Jake was displaying obvious interest. “They say that it’s because of her mother. It sounds like she has a heart condition.”

“That’s a shame. She was a really great teacher,” said Jake.

“The thing is,” Judy added, toning her voice down mysteriously, “I know for a fact that her mother and father already died of car crash like decades ago. I saw that while I was researching in the library for my term paper. What a lame excuse, ‘my mother is sick.’ It’s almost as bad as ‘my dog ate my homework’!

“I think there’s a lot more to this; you know, people covering up stories for the school name and so. She might have got herself addicted to drugs, got broke gambling, got into a freak accident…”

Judy had always felt threatened by Mrs. Knowels. Even though Mrs. Knowels was in her 40s, she was rather popular among the boys and Judy knew there had to be something wrong with her.

“Or,” said Judy, with a sudden inspiration, “she might have eloped with a student!”

Jake snorted into his coffee.

“Wha- what are you talking about?”

Sputtering, Jake struggled for words.

Judy grinned mischievously.

“Jake, don’t say you didn’t know! It was all over the school! Mrs. Knowels had this mysterious “secret admirer” thing going on but then it suddenly stopped. People were saying that it was because she said yes to whomever it was and –“

Jake suddenly stood up. The weariness had been wiped from his face and instead, Judy could sense a cold anger burning behind his eyes.

“I think I left something behind at the library.”

Judy stared.

“I’ll see you around, Judy, thanks for the coffee.”

It was nothing like the usual drawling, weary voice she was used to hearing from Jake. It was cold, brisk, and rather emotionless. Judy couldn’t think of anything that she said that may have offended him.

Jake stormed out of the coffee shop. His eyes were starting to water.

Satan and Snakes (Part 1)

The cold winter air cut through Dr. Greyson’s cheeks. Trying to cover as much of his exposed face as he could with his coat, he walked towards the police station with hurried steps.
As he passed through the glass doors, the guard greeted him.
“Good morning, Dr. Greyson.”
Dr. Greyson answered with a halfhearted smile. His visits to this place were always depressing. Everything about this building got on his nerve: the dusty red bricks, the dirty windows, the black metal bars distraught him and the fact that he was visiting either a psychopath or a psychotic did nothing to improve his mood.
Dr. Richard Greyson worked as a psychology consultant for the Department of Justice. To put simply, he was in charge of investigating the mental well-being of a convicted felon so that he or she may be put under trial or admitted to a mental facility accordingly. This was a gruesome task; why an average person like him worked as a consultant was a mystery to many of his colleagues. He was not the kind of person who thrilled at the pleasure of analyzing a criminal, nor was he an avid advocator of justice who wished to uphold the law with his own hands. One might take him for an accountant or a banker, but never a psychologist. Trying not to be intrusive, however, no one actually asked him; he must have his reasons, no doubt. And if he was good at spotting out frauds, who cared why he worked as a consultant?
Dr. Greyson took out the ID tag from his bag and hung it around his neck. He shuffled along the corridor which leads to the holding cells, flashing his ID at securities. Some of the guards were dozing in their posts; other men were busy munching down a frosted doughnut while reading a newspaper. Only one officer seemed to notice that he was passing by.
“Hey, Rick. Up for another round of foosball?”
It was Lauren from homicides. She and he had worked together on a case previously, and ever since then, she seemed to have taken a liking for him. They had gone out several times already, but their relationship never got past the point of beer, foosball, and bed.
Dr. Greyson couldn’t think of anything to say, so he could only reply by smiling awkwardly to her proposal.
“Friday, 7:00, at Tony’s! Don’t be late!” Lauren shouted across the hall. Some of the guards looked up, snickering.
With a reluctant sigh, feeling his energy drain away already, he opened the door of the holding cell number 6.
There, he saw the face of an angel.
--------------------------------------------------
As he lied awake on the bed beside Lauren, looking up to the ceiling, Dr. Greyson could not help but wonder if there was such a thing as a supernatural being in this world. How else could one explain the existence of something so beautiful yet so deformed, unless it was the product of his irony? He could feel his destiny calling out to him, beckoning him to purify and heal this tainted and scarred soul. He voiced out a silent prayer, thanking his good fortune.

“Anna Skatesands,”
He mouthed the name of his true love.
--------------------------------------------------
The girl sitting in the chair wore an orange convict suit. She seemed to be no older than 16. Dr. Greyson was lost for words. Her short black hair fell elegantly on her left cheek. Her sharp eyebrows accentuated her clear blue eyes. Her scarlet lips contrasting with her pale complexion made the perfect portrait. His heart seemed to skip a beat; his eyes seemed to water from staring at something so perfect and beautiful.
Feeling the blood in his body thumping, Dr. Greyson, with difficulty, tore his eyes away from the girl. He read the file in his hands.
“Anna Skatesands?” he asked.
She nodded in affirmation. Trying not to notice how the light seemed to bounce off her hair, he took on a professional voice with a slight cough and said,
“It says here that you…”
But he could not finish his sentence. He could not connect the girl in front of him with the heinous crime that was written in the case file. In the case file, it said that the girl with the porcelain features, the girl with the beautiful blue eyes had been convicted with murder.
--------------------------------------------------
Anna stared down at her bloodstained knife. She frowned. She had expected to feel something. After all, she had just stabbed a person in the chest, right between the left 3rd and 4th rib, tearing through the pectoral muscles, and into the lung. Her victim was drowning in his own blood, gurgling out incoherent words while entering the first stage of hemorrhagic shock. He would die painfully and slowly, unable to move or even call for help within the hour. It was more than enough for her to discard the weapon and all evidence that could connect her to the crime and flee the scene to build a solid alibi. Since this man had no friends or family, it would take at least 2 days until his body started to stench for anyone to notice his absence.
She calmly wrapped up the knife with toilet paper and placed it in a plastic bag. Taking care not to step on the pool of blood forming on the carpet, she left the building.
--------------------------------------------------
Dr. Greyson had never seen a case like this. She seemed to be perfectly healthy and mentally stable. He couldn’t detect any anomaly in her behavior except for her lack of guilt for what she had done. Even gang members had displayed more guilt than this 16 year old girl had. If anything could be said about her mental state, she was healthier than other modern day citizens of New York, where the majority suffered from depression, insecurity and solitude.
“So what do you think? She a nutcase, or a criminal?”
She was mentally in perfect condition. There was no doubt about that.
“Definitely a psychological disorder. I’ll take her off your hands.”
Dr. Greyson smiled reassuringly.
--------------------------------------------------

Something Beautiful

I would be more than happy to be,
A shoe for my daughter and me.
I would shield her tiny toes,
From all the tears and woes,
For more delicate than flowers is she.

I would be more than happy to be,
A shoe for my son and me.
Like pups he’ll be running,
In summer or winter snowing,
But warm and soft his feet will be.

I would be more than happy to be,
A shoe for you and me.
For time may tear us apart,
Fade memories from our hearts.
And into the trash I’ll go,
With a tattered hole in my toe,
But your footprint forever I’ll have,
Something I’ll take to my grave.
I would be more than happy to be,
A shoe for you and me.

Character Bio

Name: Claire
Age: 16
Appearance: Blond, Beautiful, Slim
Personality: introverted
Problem: Got no friend
Environment: Lives in a dorm
Special quality: Knows Karate

Claire was a quiet girl, who liked to read books. Every day, she would be immersed in a book, sitting in her seat by the window. She wasn’t exactly an outgoing type of person; more than half of her class had never spoken to her. Nobody had heard her speak, unless it was absolutely necessary. Even when a teacher asked her a question, she would bow her head down and whisper a hardly audible “I don’t know, sir,” blushing furiously.
She wasn’t exactly a kind of person that leaves an impression on you. And as a matter of fact, I wouldn’t have even remembered her at all if it weren’t for her stunningly blond hair, almond shaped eyes, delicate nose, and her long and elegant limbs. Even though she never wore any make up and usually kept herb long hair down covering more than half of her face, her aesthetic qualities seemed to shine through. She was the center of the attention wherever she went, turning heads as she walked to her classes.
Although we boys worshipped her like an idol, the girls seemed to have a different opinion about her. They would always find something mean to say to her whether it was true or false, and jeer and make snide comments at Claire as she passed by. Everyone knew for a fact that she had never committed or was even capable of doing any of the actions that she was accused of, but out of jealousy and spite, the rumors spread through the schools like wildfire, finally causing Claire to burst into tears.
After that unfortunate incident, Claire dropped out of school. Nobody knew where she went. Some said that she ran away with a married man who was more than twice her age, and some said that she had hooked up with a very rich businessman and was living in Dubai on a private island. So it came as quite a shock when I saw her on the local TV news under the headline: “Beautiful bank clerk singlehandedly takes down four armed professional bank robbers with her deadly karate chop”

It's Hell Living Without a Hero

On a fine summer day, an old man sat alone at the porch.
He was a very strange fellow, this old man. His grey hairs, deep wrinkles and shriveled hands were the only clues to his age, for as far as the townspeople were concerned the old man had been, always, grey, wrinkled, and old. On a closer inspection, one could discern a faint trace of once handsome chin, shrewd eyes, and a tall stature. However, everyone referred to him as ‘that crazy old man’
His unfortunate disposition failed to improve his reputation. He was often loud, shouting out insults towards his neighbors. He never seemed to enjoy a company of another living thing. People assumed this based on their few encounters with the old man: when the townspeople greeted him with a courteous “It’s a lovely day, wouldn’t you agree?” he would answer in silence, showing an obscene gesture with his middle finger and deeply affront the innocent people passing by.
No one could tell why the old man was so angry all the time, but there was no doubt that something was seriously bothering him. He would bark at songbirds singing in trees, growl at a dog playfully chasing its tail, and scorn at the children’s laughter carrying through the kitchen window. Fresh green blades of grass or the white petals of daisies did not seem to please him; on the contrary he seemed to devote a major portion of his time trying to remove these specimens from the soils of his small barren garden.
But isolation didn’t seem to satisfy him either. Although he was surrounded by the stillness of a warm Thursday morning at this moment, he neither seemed to be pleased nor relieved at this result. On the contrary, the lack of movement around him seemed to deepen his sorrows even more.
He did nothing but sit there in absolute silence, and someone might have mistaken him for a corpse, were it not for his shrewd eyes darting restlessly.
No one knew the truth about this old man. No one knew that this 'crazy old man' was very famous when he was young. No one even considered the possibility that he might have had a life before he became so old.
This old man had been capable of many great things. With his charms and talent, along with unfathomable amount of hard work, he gathered money and power. His brilliance had also allowed him to come up with many ingenious plans to conquer the universe – although he had never succeeded. Each time, at the last moment, when all the pieces of his plan seemed to be falling perfectly into place, an anomaly would occur. An anomaly in the name of -
The old man blinked. It was no use to brood in the past though. What was done was done. It was only when he had accidentally succeeded in deleting the ‘anomaly’, did he realize that the world without him – it, he corrected – seemed to have no value anymore.
“It’s hell living without a hero.” said the old man.
A gentle breeze brushed softly against his cheeks.

Dorothy's Silver Shoes

Dorothy’s heart was beating faster and faster. What did this all mean? Did this mean that Oz was once a mere man, the subject of these obscene actions? She eagerly turned to the next page with a pounding heart.

When I opened my eyes, I realized that I was lying in a room with a very high ceiling. I tried to stand up, thinking what day it was, but I simply couldn’t move my head – it was too heavy. After a few struggles, I succeeded in grabbing the bars on my cradle - cradle? Stunned, I looked around, and realized that I was somehow in the old nursery – not covered in dust or filled with huge boxes, but clean and neat as it was 20 years ago. I tried to yell, but instead of usual “What the f---!” some random babbling and gurgling came out of my mouth. Confused, I found myself suddenly overcome with emotions – I burst into tears. A woman – my Mother! – rushed to my side. She said, with a soft voice, “What’s wrong, honey?” She lifted me up, and carried me in her arms.

Dorothy couldn’t believe what she was reading on those pages. The Worker of Many Miracles, the Evergreen Sage, Preacher of Knowledge, had a mother. It couldn’t be true. It just wasn’t possible. She kept on reading. The following entries of his journals were even more shocking.

I had become a baby! The cold truth hit me hard. I did say that I wanted to become young again, but not this young! My mom was now changing my diapers and it truly felt strange. But I didn’t have time to think about diapers. What am I supposed to do in this kind of situation? In the movies, usually toys come alive or animals speak, but no such thing seemed at hand. I pinched myself to make sure that it wasn’t a dream, and it wasn’t. I had to accept the reality and find real solutions.
How could there be a real solution when I was nothing but a baby? But then, I realized something: while my body was in my infancy, my consciousness was no different from that of my 21-year-old self. With the accumulated knowledge that I already had inside myself, I would be a prodigy!

The journal went on for quite a few more pages. It recorded his footsteps of reliving his life as a man inside a baby. With his knowledge of future stock market movements and scientific discoveries, he acclaimed money, fame and power. He had even formed a cult – worshippers and followers from all over the world admiring his riches and knowledge.

It was at this moment that I finally understood the strength of the power that I possessed; knowing the unknowable, I had the upper hand against any person living on earth! No talent a man can possess could compare to the ability to read “the flow” of a society, and in my case, I not only read them, but had actually lived through it! My comparatively younger age and complexion did nothing to hinder my fame but rather sensationalize it as my 11-year-old self foresaw the tragedy of 9/11 and the series of misfortunes that followed. To them, I was God.

The journal slipped from her hands. The sound of the journal falling echoed throughout the empty hall. Dorothy was disgusted. The sheer intensity of his greed and pride was sickening to read. Oh, what horror it was, to read about the blasphemous thoughts of the one whom she had admired so much through Oz’s own writings!

“Come on, Toto, we have to go.”

Dorothy picked up the book and put it back on the pedestal. Dorothy felt as if her entire world was crumbling into pieces. As a devout believer of the Emerald City and its teachings, she had grown up dreaming only about the moment she would be able to become a member of the Green Curtains. She felt betrayed. What was she going to tell Wood, Leo and Quinn? They were all counting on her. She had dragged them into this whole fraud, this whole scam.

Wood, Leo and Quinn were all waiting for her at the other side of the door.

“So what did Oz say?”
“Did you tell him something about my heart?”
“What about my tumor?”

She saw them looking at her with expectant eyes. She could see the hope shining in their eyes. Their eyes were like those of an innocent toddler, looking up expecting for their mothers to shower them with shiny new toys.
Forcing herself to smile, she took a hairpin from her hair and gave it to Quinn.

“Oz told me to give me this to you. He said that he enchanted this with his healing powers. You’ll feel better in no time.”

Turning to Wood, she gave him her heart shaped gold necklace.

“This is for you, Wood. May your heart be filled with love while you’re wearing it - another present from Oz.”

Finally, she took out the little bottle of water she had found in the library.

“And for you, Leo, this is a bottle of courage. Nothing will stop you from doing what you want anymore.”
“But what about you? What did you get from Oz? Did he say that you’ll be able to go back home?” said Leo, who had always cared so much for Dorothy.

Dorothy smiled and said, “Yes he did, don’t worry, Leo. Take Toto and everyone with you and go down the tower. I’ll follow you in a moment. I just have a few more words I’d like to say with Oz.”

While he was going down the stairs, Leo changed his mind. “I’ll wait for Dorothy outside the door. Meet us at the Green Gate.”

Thinking about the best way to propose to Dorothy, he fondled the toy diamond ring in his pocket he had bought for 75 cents. When he felt his courage failing, he drank the entire bottle of courage in one gulp. The effect was instantaneous; he felt a hot sensation spreading through his body filling it up with courage.

When Leo had climbed up the tower again, there was only a pair of silver shoes below the windowsill, with an icy gust of North Wind blowing ruthlessly. Dorothy was nowhere to be seen.

Dialogue Exercise

1- Are – you – a – moron?
2- What’s wrong? What have I done this time?
3- Are you kidding? You told the whole school that we’re going out!
4- Er, was I not supposed to?
5- Are you out of your mind? Why on earth would you tell people that?
6- Um, aren’t we going out?
7- No! I mean, yes, we are, but there’s no need to tell everyone about it. I haven’t even told my friends yet!
8- So what, wouldn’t people notice anyway if you and I started hanging out in school? The word would get out and they would hear it from somebody eventually.
9- Not like this! And what we have going on here was supposed to be a secret!
10- What, are you ashamed that you’re going out with me?
11- No, but I have a reputation to uphold. What do you think people would say when they see us together? Me with you!
12- So you are ashamed to go out with me. I thought you liked me – and from what I remember, you weren’t complaining when I was on top of you last night.
13- Urgh, don’t get cocky with me. What am I going to do… what am I going to do…
14- Wanna make out?
15- Shut up! Do you think I want to do that with you right now?
16- I’m a guy – what do you expect? I’m not good at dealing with emotional crisis.
17- Then shut it for a minute and let me think!
18- Can’t blame the guy for trying. Anyway, when you’ve finished blowing off steam, I’ve got something for you.
19- I - don’t - want -
20- Happy Valentines.

‘I like turtles’ - by Minsoo Ha

‘I like turtles’

by Minsoo Ha

There are some moments in your life that you just wish you could forget that they ever happened. Normally, people succeed in doing so, and eventually move on with their lives. It doesn’t matter that you wore your shirt inside out, or got a haircut that made your neck look fat. Even if your fell flat on your face in front of the whole school on stage, people eventually lose interest with time and soon, the people’s attentions will leave on its hunt for another source of entertainment.
In that sense, you could say that I was pretty unlucky. For it wasn’t a couple of hundred people who witnessed my moment of humiliation, but thousands of practically illiterate people in town who had absolutely nothing else to do in but to watch TV at 4 o’clock in the afternoon. They also evidently thought that it was too funny not to be shared on YouTube. The video reached 0.5 million hits in less than a week and soon parodies and remixes of it spread through the internet like wildfire.

It was just like any other day at the fair with my sisters when a female reporter swooped down on me with a mike and started talking to me. I have never been comfortable with conversing with total strangers, and the big camera inches from my face didn’t help. I was desperately searching for some kind of help from my sisters and parents when I suddenly noticed that the reporter had stopped talking and looking at me as if she was expecting some kind of an answer. My mind immediately went blank. 10 years of my life had not prepared me for an interview on live television – the most that I had managed to make out from the useless things teachers tried to teach me were ‘never get caught’, which somehow I didn’t think I could apply in this situation.
I just knew I had to say something to get over the moment. The awkward silence and the pressure of standing in a spotlight were more than unbearable. I was literally suffocating in all the suspense. Before I could ponder on the first moment of my debut on national television, I blurted out the only thing that was in my head: the three words which would bring millions of sensations to come.

“I like turtles”

For those who have never been to the Portland Rose Festival and are wondering where on earth ‘turtles’ came in, let me explain. In the fair, there was this display where you could see turtles swimming in a glass tank. Every year, I would watch turtles with yellowish green stripes and turquoise shells just lazing away blinking peacefully in the cool water. I was going through a dinosaur phase then, and every reptilian creature big or small fascinated me. So it seems understandable that a 10 year old boy would, upon sudden approach and at a loss for words, proclaim to the world that he liked turtles. The tragedy was, I was wearing ridiculously disgusting zombie face paint!
You can guess how it must have seemed on TV. A 10 year old zombie being interviewed probably for the first time and answering “Jonathan just got an awesome face paint job. (it really was awesome by the way) What do you think?” with flat, monotonous “I like turtles.” Even the reporter was having trouble suppressing her laughter.
I was so focused on running away from the pressure and the camera that I hadn’t even realized what I had said until the next day when Derek, one of the meanest bullies in my school shouted out, “Hey Jonathan, so you like turtles do you?” guffawing stupidly with his thugs.

Well, I was obviously glad that many people liked my video. I received fan mails from all over the world and there was not one radio station, TV channel, and papers which I didn’t appear. It was almost as if I had become an overnight celebrity! They even printed T shirts with my face on, and I was invited to a few TV shows for quite a considerable amount of cash. (I guess my mom must have been happy) But because of that video, I was teased mercilessly throughout my school life. Every time a teacher asked me a question, everyone else would scream out “I like turtles!” It was quite a labor make myself heard over their sniggers and screams of mirth. I somehow managed to get through with minimum scarring with adequate combination of sarcasm and humor as a defense mechanism, and had a quite a good time making fun of people who made fun of me. Nevertheless, I must say that it was quite a relief going to college where people would be more mature and sophisticated enough to have a better thing to do than asking me whether or not I still liked turtles – or so I thought.

“Hey dude, isn’t that the Turtle Boy?”

Apparently, college students must have had a lot of free time on their hands also. Not three seconds had passed after I had introduced myself to my roommate and I was already marked as the Turtle Boy from his friend a.k.a. a total stranger. Groaning inside, I could to do nothing but watch as my fame as Turtle Boy was blazed back to life. Leaving my roommate and his friend gasping for air (from hysterical laughing) on the floor I went for a walk around the campus.
As I was trying to come up with an offensive homosexual joke just in case those two went over themselves, I noticed a girl crouching near a stream.

“It’s dangerous if you lean that far out.” I said, just out of politeness.

She looked up. “It’s okay, it’s only ankle deep.”

She was right. The reflection of light made it hard to see, but the stream seemed to be quite shallow. Nowhere deep enough to drown anyone larger than a shoe.

“You never know. Better safe than sorry, I always say.” I said automatically.

She burst out laughing. “You sound like my grandmother.”

“Hey, she is a very nice lady! And she makes the most awesome cakes!”

“She passed away last summer.”

“Oh,” I was suddenly lost for words. “Sorry about that. That’s what I do. I make inappropriate jokes and apologize.”

I was relieved to see that she was smiling again.

“So, Mister I-make-inappropriate-jokes-and-apologize, do you have a name?”

“I’m Jonathan. I’m a freshman here. What’s your name?”

The moment she heard name, recognition dawned on her face.

“Oh my god - you’re that Turtle Boy from the ‘I like turtles’ video!”

I knew I should have changed my name before I came here.

Every first conversation I have with other people is amazingly identical to each other. Whenever I meet someone for the first time, they get so excited that usually it takes half an hour to stop talking about my video. The first few times, I tried to change the subject but to no avail. They would ask me to recount the moment of the interview with annoying persistence that I eventually gave up trying all together and accepted the fact that this would be my icebreaker for the rest of my life.

Just as I was resigning to the worst and preparing to start defending myself with how young I was, she asked me something I’ve never expected.

“Do you… still… like turtles?”

I’ve been teased with that familiar phrase for nearly 10 years now, but there was no hint of malice in her voice. She sounded apprehensive and worried that I might be offended. It was as if she was a 10 year old inviting me in on her secret, and a little scared that I might reject her. Not sure what to say, I just said the only thing that was in my head right now.

“...I like turtles.”

"I like turtles"///some background research