Land-mine Trust Walk Reflection

-written in story format-

My name is Dilfuza, but my friends call me Dil. In Persian my name means “pleasing heart” or “Illuminating soul”, which makes me seem all respected and powerful. To be honest, that’s not the way I’m feeling right now. Life in Uzbekistan isn’t pleasant, in fact, nothing’s worse than how the situation is currently put together. Life here is like one of those impossible, one-colored, a thousand-piece puzzle. It seems like a slice of Napaleon Torti (a type of Uzbekistan cake), but it’s not. No piece seems to fit with another, and no matter how hard you’re trying to finish the puzzle, it just doesn’t work. That’s how I feel about life right now.

Anyway, I’m twelve, and I have never been to school. Instead I work hard, day after day, to earn just enough money to live off of. I live with my mother and my little brother, who both stay home. At least, what we “call” home. We basically live in this tiny shack with a metal roof, right smack in the middle of a mine-field. Literally, if you were to look at a map of the area ad place your finger on where you think is the middle, it would be there. The worst part is that I have to cross the field of bombs each day just to get to work.

It’s a miracle that I’m still alive! Crossing the field is like walking over a terrain coated in sharp glass with bare feet. As a matter of fact, it’s worse. The actual fear of stepping on a land mine is immense and unbearable. Just thinking that one misplaced, little step can cost your life is petrifying.

“But why do you risk your life everyday to go to work?” Well, let me tell you why. I gather bamboo shoots to sell at a market. This is the only thing that me and my family can rely on as a source of money. I know it seems absurd that I have to cross this mine-filled field to earn a little bit of money, but it’s the only option I’ve got. If I don’t get money, I can’t buy food, or water, or clothes or shoes, or any other thing that we need. I need the money to support my mother and younger brother. Everyday they are both sitting at home, hoping I will make it back alive with money and dinner. I can’t let them down, therefore I will just have to face my fears and hope for the best.

By now you’re probably wondering why we don’t move to another house. Trust me, my mind has been there many times. One main reason is because of my brother. He is only two and has to be taken care of. My mom wants to live under a roof until he is a little bit older. She doesn’t want to risk the chances of giving up our house, just to go fishing and not catch any bait.

Secondly, we just don’t have the money to afford another place. Many families don’t even have the shelter to sleep in. All we know is that many organizations are looking into clearing all the mines, but all we can do is cross our fingers and hope it’s soon.

 

Amaia

 

The Mysterious Potion

There were fourteen potions on the shelf. Their labels were all missing. She knew one of them was what she needed. She frantically glances back over her shoulder. There wasn’t enough time to figure out which was which. She grabbed the closest one and chugged it, hoping desperately she’d picked the right potion…

Forcing the thick substance down her throat, she knew this was her only hope. Whatever the thing inside that bottle was, it was nasty. It tasted like warm saliva. She dropped the bottle, wondering why it didn’t take affect yet. She stealthily leapt to the shadows, where she stood, peering around the room. The room was eery with only some sunlight pouring through the stained glass. There was a large carpet on the floor that seemed to be made of animal skin. Not like any animal she’d seen before, though. It was larger than a grizzly bear and had the talons of an eagle, as well as a long scaly tale.

Suddenly she heard a noise from the other end of the room. She couldn’t see clearly who or what was there. All she knew is that whatever that is, it means no good.

Then, out of nowhere, her insides seemed to be hurled to one side and then the other. It felt as if her stomach was being ripped out of her. With the killing pain in her insides she knew nothing better than to force herself to the ground to stop the terrible pain, but it was no good. She helplessly laid there, clasping her belly, screaming it out in pain. Slowly but steadily the room around her began to turn darker and darker. She forced her eyes to stay open, but there was no hope. As she took her last breath she could just barely see the silhouette of the creepy man that had been following her.

 

 

Amaia van Dommelen

Phoenix Poem

Deep in the forest, hidden in the shadows,

a bird hides stealthily, that is older than the pharos.

Many mistake him for a bird in the sky,

’cause Phoenixes are only seen by the good-eye.

 

It’s scarlet red wings simmer in the light,

but fade to grey, deep in the night.

It’s beak and claws, as dull as pebbles,

where as the fiery eyes are truly special:

The piercing emerald pupils are immense,

for the all-knowing bird’s life is endless.

A lot to take in from all the things it has seen,

the bird is considered wise and keen.

 

There’s nothing more astonishing than the feathers of the creature,

that they range from dandelion yellow to ruby red is a feature.

This stunning Phoenix is also a song bird,

from miles away its memorable melody can be heard.

It gives courage and hope to those with pure heart,

and strike fear to the evil who practice black art.

 

Not many have seen,

the beauty within,

for the bird is alone,

and a lot is unknown.

 

 

Amaia

The Phoenix

The mythical creature, Phoenix, can not be mistaken for any other mythical creature known so far. It has crimson-red feathers covering its body and dandelion yellow tail feathers, which can grow to be as long as a peacock’s tail. Its beak and claws are generally gold, but there are some exceptions. Some Phoenix’s can have grey claws and beaks. Overall, the creature has long, silky feathers all over its body allowing it to glimmer in the sunlight.

Despite its normal bird-like appearance, the Phoenix has many abilities. Phoenixes are known to be immortal. Once a Phoenix dies, it ignites, and burns to ashes. From there, a new Phoenix chic is born. Phoenixes are also said to have the ability to heal people with its tears, as well as teleport in a blinding flash of light. It is even known that this creature’s melodious song can increase the courage of those with pure hearts, and can strike fear to those with an impure heart. Phoenixes also symbolize hope, to those with bright souls.

Some common Phoenix names are Spark, Flame, and Ash, which all relate to fire or the sun, but a name that everyone knowns is Fawkes. Fawkes is one of the most known Phoenixes on earth. Alongside Dumbledore, Fawkes fights courageously against those who are causing no good. Just like all Phoenixes, Fawkes will never die, and his name will be passed down for centuries.

In conclusion, Phoenixes are fascinating beasts, but are sadly classified as uncommon or rare. Not many Phoenixes exist in the wild at once, because the population can’t increase nor decrease. Even though the Phoenix isn’t common, it is a magnificent beast and those who have the chance to see one, are incredibly lucky.


 

The Phoenix2nd-multi-phoenix-300x300

 

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Deep in the forest, hidden in the shadows,

a bird hides stealthily, that is older than the pharos.

Many mistake him for a bird in the sky,

’cause Phoenixes are only seen by the good-eye.

 

It’s scarlet red wings simmer in the light,

but fade to grey, deep in the night.

It’s beak and claws, as dull as pebbles,

where as the fiery eyes are truly special:

The piercing emerald pupils are immense,

for the all-knowing bird’s life is endless.

A lot to take in from all the things it has seen,

the bird is considered wise and keen.

 

There’s nothing more astonishing than the feathers of the creature,

that they range from dandelion yellow to ruby red is a feature.

 

This stunning Phoenix is also a song bird,

from miles away its memorable melody can be heard.

It gives courage and hope to those with pure heart,

and strike fear to the evil who practice black art.

 

Not many have seen,

the beauty within,

for the bird is alone,

and a lot is unknown.

 

Amaia

 

Gratitude Journal

I am thankful for many things in my life, but someone who has been with me my entire life deserves to be mentioned: my dad. Peter is the best father in the world. He has taught me nearly everything I know, and therefore has always supported me through the hard times in life. Many facts bond him and me closer together than usual.

Whenever I recall memories I can always find my dad with me. In South Africa my dad and I went together at four in the morning with two rangers and a group of french people for a walk through the savannah. We spotted a male lion, many antelope and several spiders. I was even lucky enough to stumble across a leopard tortoise! In fact, I was the one who saw him and picked him up.

My dad and I also have a secret language we use: Dutch. I really enjoy how he listens to me and respects me. He has made me who I am today for sure. One day I will walk in his footsteps, and become a biologist just like him.

Amaia

My Wizard Persona

I’m old and wrinkly like a raisin, making me look quite old, but truthfully wise. As I stand there in my sky blue cloak that is flowing in the wind behind me, a gentle smile crawls up my face. Illuminated by the warm lights coming from inside the modern houses, I stand tall with my black pointy hat reaching for the twinkling stars above and my brown-shaded boots firmly planted on the sturdy ground. In one hand I firmly hold a magical wand assuring me that I can do anything with magic and in the long shadow casted on the floor in front of me you could clearly see my name’s reflection, Kristen Sun Hunter, for the sun sets for me and the moon rises every afternoon. Even the trees in the valley whisper my name from one to another with a quick rustling noise. I know what powers I hold in my might, and with a click of my fingers I vanish in the shadows with only a few flakes of snow revealing where I just stood.

Amaia

Photo on 11-13-15 at 8.42 AM

Would I rather choose to rewind my life or pause my life?

Sometimes I lie in bed staring at the pale ceiling wondering what’s coming up next. Sometimes I’m having the time of my life and it passes in the blink of an eye. Sometimes I glare out the window blankly while tears crawl down my face recalling good old memories one after the other. I just wish I could have a remote for my life. A remote that can control it, like you know: a television. Not one of those complex 93-button remote; instead I want a remote with only one simple button. Not the pause or play button. It would be a rewind button. Then I would go back to the times I was happy and I would laugh until tears started showing up. I would dance the night away again and again. I would go back to those rainy days when I would drink hot chocolate and eat marshmallows until my stomach hurt. But most of all I would rewind to the times that my friends stood by my side and supported whichever stupid opinion I would come up with.

My life is like a cassette: little by little the tape starts running out with the same constant velocity. When it runs out it gets tossed in the bin. It gets wasted. You can only rewind it with a special finger. That finger is the key to the past and if I could grab hold of that key: that remote, I would never ever let it go.

Amaia

A picture’s worth a thousand words

Cats have always been in the misty corner of my life; the top drawer of my closet I can’t reach without a stool. Whenever I look at a cat, it reminds me of well, me I guess. Cats always land on their feet. So do I. And even if I fall and land on my side I always get back up and stand firmly on both feet.I’ve seen many cats: from lions, leopards, servals and ocelots to sweet house cats and kittens who loved to be cradled in my arms.

When I glare into a cat’s eyes I get lost in my memories. The silence of cats make them nearly invisible to human eye. The warm purr; the soothing vibration of that purr reminds me of Happiness. Their Happiness. Their Happiness of being with me. The feeling when a cat brushes by your leg is what I like best. At first you’re a little startled. Soon you feel warm and you are familiar with the well known feeling of the cat that brushes by, and then it’s tail straps around your leg. That feeling of the cat that clings on to you. And you aren’t frightened, oh, no; you’re warm and cozy on the inside and like the feeling of the cat stroking against your leg. But when it’s gone, you wish and wish for your cat to come back and it does. But sometimes, not usually, it goes away and never comes back.

~Amaia~