STORY 1
“Do you believe in magic?” Professor Locke asked me. I smiled politely at fist as if he were telling a joke I didn’t understand and then I realized he was serious.
Still a little confused I asked “Why?”
I’ve spoken to Professor Locke after his science course and he seems to like me. The only problem is that every time I speak to him I feel like he’s hiding something, something important. But it’s probably nothing.
“I would like to know if you believe that magic is an allusion of science or if science is an allusion of magic.” He said. I thought for a while and then answered in the most intelligent way I could .
“I believe that all magic is science we don’t understand.”
“Arthur C. Clarcke.” He said. He took a good look at me right before he said “He was very wrong,” and walked away.
The entire drive home I kept hearing my professor’s voice. It was like a broken record in my head; He was very wrong. I started to think to myself and the only possible explanation was that my professor is crazy. There must be something wrong with a person who believes in magic. I arrived at my house, parked in the driveway and, as usual , heard the gravel underneath my car grumble. I locked the car while opening the door to my house.
My parents took a little vacation so I have some time to myself. I stared at the television, my favorite show was airing now and it was calling out to me, but I knew I had to study. I had an exam the next day in science on a tremendous amount of material. I walked up the wooden stairs then across the hall to my room.
My room was the hottest room in the house. The reason for that was the huge heater in my small room with tiny vents in my ceiling. The heat hit me right when I walked in. I almost lost my balance. I dropped my bag on my ruff green carpeted floor and sat on my bed for a few minutes. Those few minutes turned into hours as I fell asleep.
In my dream I see a man wearing a leather jacket. No, he’s wearing my leather jacket. He has blond hair, blue eyes and a black uniform. He sort of looks like me, a little. His face starts to change. He starts looking more like me every second until about a minute where we are exactly the same.
STORY 2
George E. Reyes stood in front of his high-school classroom quickly jotting words down on the white board.
AIM: Can matter be destroyed or created?
1. Law of conservation of mass
The bell rang in the room and echoed throughout the halls.
“Ok, someone remind me where we left off tomorrow.” There were some sighs of relief that the period was over.
“Hey, Joey. You coming to eat with us or not?” It was Liz, his best friend and secret crush.
“No, I’m going to stick behind for a little while. I’ll meet up with you.” After the room cleared Joey walked up to the teacher who seemingly was working on something very important in his black notebook. Joey always wanted to know what he was doing in that book. Whenever he brought it up his Mr. Reyes always changed the subject or pretend he didn’t hear anything.
“You stayed behind. Aren’t you hungry?” Mr. Reyes asked rhehitoricaly. He closed his black book and put it safely in his bag. “What can I do for you Mr. Bask?”
“I just have a question for you.”
“I’m listening.”
“Well it’s going to sound a little weird. Actually very weird and you’re the first and last person I’m coming to before I get real help.” Now that I started I have to finish he thought. “Do you,” he paused “believe in magic?” Joey waited for another second before he said “Sorry, this is stupid. I’ll leave now.” As he started for the door Mr. Reyes grabbed him by the arm.
“Of course I do, but I don’t refer to it as magic.” Surprised at the
STORY 3
I awoke to several police sirens. I heard two sirens and they were all outside my house. With my eyes still shut I try to figure out what was going on. Six seconds later I realized that was never going to work so I opened my eyes slowly.
The moment light broke through my lashes to my retina I was paralyzed in anguish. My head was pounding at an excruciating beat. I instantly closed my eyes but just then I heard a loud ringing noise and the pounding got worse. I rolled over and sunk my face into my pillow and surprisingly it slowed down. I was about to get off the bed to get an Advil when I realized my stomach felt wet. I put my hand on my bed and immediately pulled back. Could I have peed? I thought. I looked down, forgetting about the headache and I jumped out of my bed.
I stared down wondering wher it was coming from when my stomach started pounding and stinging. I looked down at y stomach and I couldn’t believe what I saw. There was a hole in my stomach. A bullet hole to be exact.
“Ma! Dad! ,” I yelled franticly running into their room. I walked into their room to find something far more painful than the hole in my stomach. They were both lying on the floor with gunshot wounds in their heads.
I fell to my knees ignoring every pain I had rushing through my body. I sat there, crying.
The police knocked down the door and I heard them rushing in.
