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FINAL WIKIPAGE GRADE
NICE WORK! I ESPECIALLY LIKED YOUR INTRODUCTION AS A WRITER.

Welcome: Mackenzie Jenkins Creative Writing
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My name is Mackenzie Jenkins and I am taking creative writing at Academic Magnet High School. Starting this class in 10th grade this year, I have already grown immensely. Writing has always been one of my strong points in life, and I love the idea of being able to create something new, that the world has not seen yet. Although I can write a decent essay or DBQ, the works of creative writing that I produce stand above the rest because I am not restricted by any boundaries and can explore new concepts and ideas.
My philosophy as a writer is actually enhanced by my experience as an actress and my love of visual arts. In my mind, I can visualize what I want to wright about, as if it were a movie or a play. Then, I copy down exactly what I see on paper. The literary device of imagery is commonly present in the end result of my writings.Three particular works that best demonstrate my philosophy would have to be my six word memoir, my found sound poem, and the journal entry My Ride Home.
In my found sound poem, I had to be short and sweet while showing the sound of my choice, the ocean, in the light that I wanted it to be. Describing the oceans sounds as waves would get the point across, but no one would care. When I hear the ocean, I hear a million sounds blended into one, just like the millions of lives that hide beneath the surface. I had to find a way to sum up these sounds while also being short and to the point. I ended up using an allusion to a beehive, and a personification of the waves to get the meaning across. Although it was a challenge at first, my continual trials proved to be beneficial, and I created a found sound poem that summed up the ocean to me.
In the journal entry, My Ride Home, I made something that was a potentially boring subject, a car ride, into a story that would open the readers eyes to the beauty that we drive by daily. This journal came easily to me because of the imagery I was able to use in the descriptions. I remembered what I felt, saw, and heard. I turned the simple words that I could connect to in my head and made them into phrases that would allow you to see it as if you were sitting next to me.
of Contents:
Below are some featured writings that exemplify the highlights of my writing career in my creative writing class.
Featured Journal Entry My Ride Home
Final Six Word Memoir
Ten Commandments
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In my found sound poem, I had to be short and sweet while showing the sound of my choice, the ocean, in the light that I wanted it to be. Describing the oceans sounds as waves would get the point across, but no one would care. When I hear the ocean, I hear a million sounds blended into one, just like the millions of lives that hide beneath the surface. I had to find a way to sum up these sounds while also being short and to the point. I ended up using an allusion to a beehive, and a personification of the waves to get the meaning across. Although it was a challenge at first, my continual trials proved to be beneficial, and I created a found sound poem that summed up the ocean to me.
In the journal entry, My Ride Home, I made something that was a potentially boring subject, a car ride, into a story that would open the readers eyes to the beauty that we drive by daily. This journal came easily to me because of the imagery I was able to use in the descriptions. I remembered what I felt, saw, and heard. I turned the simple words that I could connect to in my head and made them into phrases that would allow you to see it as if you were sitting next to me.
1. six word memoir
2.Table of Contents:
Below are some featured writings that exemplify the highlights of my writing career in my creative writing class.
Featured Journal Entry My Ride Home
Featured Journal Entry Fortune Cookie
Featured Journal Entry The Infirmary
Final 55 fiction
3.Fiction Story
Final Copy Change Poem
Final Free Verse Poem
4.
Final Shadow Puppet Excerpt
5. Copy Change Poem
1. Featured Journal Entry: Brush with Death
2. Featured Journal Entry: The Infirmary
3. Featured Journal Entry: Fortune Cookie
Table of Contents
Final Six Word Memoir
Ten Commandments

2. Featured Journal Entry: The Infirmary
3. Featured Journal Entry: Fortune Cookie
Table of Contents

As a class, we were asked to try and feel all of our senses as we rode home from school. It probably also helped that it was one of the first days back to school at the start of the year. I remember that it was raining that day, and I was very tired after my day at school and couldn't wait to get home just so I could catch my breath.
My Ride Home
I get in the car with anticipation clouding my senses. Weariness has settled into my bones from the yearlong day at school. I can't help but anticipate my arrival at home, a place of comfort and rest. I close my eyes in a slow blink, reveling in the bliss. I open them as we start driving, and lean back into the chair, enjoying the soft cushion that envelopes me like a hug unlike the hard chairs at school. The driver turns the music on and symphonies swirl through my ears and paint pictures all around me. We cruise down the road and I watch the scenery blend into flashes of vibrant colors as we pick up speed. The continual bouncing rotation of the slightly rock the car as they vibrate into my skin. My heart lurches as the vehicle drives up onto a bridge, bumping over the transition of road to bridge. A big truck rushes past us filling our noses with the scent of gasoline. The music is temporarily drowned in the sounds of the trucks engines and massive wheels. As we drive over the connector, I glance up to see us drive into a black cloud hovering over the island. The sun that glittered so brightly on the moving water vanishes behind the clouds before us. The water below appears black from the overcast shadows. A lighting strike streaks down into the trees in the off distance. As we near my house, fat droplets begin to splatter on our windshield and the asphalt. The scorching heat evaporates them almost instantly at first, but the drops come faster and cover up any dryness that previously dominated the ground. The pattering sound of rain on the roof lulls me into relaxation even more, until, finally, we arrive home. The car bounces and jerks across our dirt/mud road until we pull into our pebble covered driveway. I step out into the rain as refreshing coolness settles into my skin and the smells of wind and nature fill in my nose. I grins as I walk onto my porch: one day down, one hundred and seventy-nine more to go.

it out.
The Infirmary
moved away, shut itshutting the memories out. ButBut, as she on the floor,floor shaking, she let the fear and released her memories. Then she got up and walked

The object was to right a story about what happened at the infirmary that is located on the Naval Base using old "artifacts" and pictures. I decided to right about one woman's experience with which she was kidnapped and forced into the infirmary but made it out.
The Infirmary
The old lady walked down the decaying hall of the infirmary, remembering. Memories crack through her brain, muddling her thoughts and confusing her past and present. Trash litters the once pristine white floors that her reluctant feet wade across. The once plain roof has wilted down, blocking various parts of the hallway. She takes an unsettled breath. She walks down the trashy hallway, an old lady, when Crack! She is dragged, a bloodcurdling scream exploding from her youthful lips echoing down the hall, Crack! She shuffles down the hall, her eyes empty, her steps going nowhere, while a lab coated man escorts her, Crack! She creeps slowly down the hallway, back bent, in her desperation for life, Crack! The old lady pauses as the flashbacks rip her apart. Her breathes come quicker as she tries to reach reality, where she is safe. At least physically. As she gains a hold on herself, she realizes she has reached the room where it all happened: her room. Her memories kidnap her in the darkness of her mind. Once upon a time, she had been beautiful, young, and innocent, but with the paranoia of the Frei Fever epidemic, it was bound to die. They took her, like they did with all the young "sick" ones. The funny thing was that she never even had it. She had a common cold, but they never listened. Not when she laughed, pleaded, cried, or finally screamed. She had thought they were mistaken at first, but she soon realized that they didn't really care in the first place. They were the ones who had made it. Her fear of the horrible rumors overtook her when she got to the infirmary. She fought, kicking and screeching as they dragged her down the long hallway. "No" she sobbed as she slammed her body against the door they locked from the opposite side. Her hair was wild and stuck to her face because of the tears. From the rumors, that turned out to be true, she knew that the first thing they would do was ready the patients for experimenting. She sat in the room for 2 weeks with only water and 3 crackers a day. Then, they came for her. Eyes empty, they lead her shuffling feet down the hallway that she had entered from. Then they turned to a new room. They strapped her down, weakness preventing her from preventing them. The long sharp needle they held pierced her skin. The quick pain took the rest of her feeling away as she went numb. She didn't see what they did to her, but she saw the scars lining her arm when she was able to move again. They dumped her body back in her room once they were done, just as she started to form a plan that might bring her freedom. Later that night, after knocking out a lab coat, she crept down the hall quietly and ran to her freedom. Crack! The old woman's feet gave out as she collapsed to the floor shaking. Over the years she had moved away, shut it out. But as she neared her final years, she knew that what she really needed was closure. As she sat on the floor, she let go of the fear and walked away to live the last of her life in peace.

Each student was given a fortune cookie and told to write a story about the fortune that they received inside. My fortune was "A modest man never talks to himself."
Fortune Cookie
The rich man walked down the street with arrogant smugness radiating off him from his slick black hair down to his over priced glossy shoes. As he walked, he moved for no one on the busy sidewalk, but people went out of their way to give him room. His eyes held authority that seemed to scream 'out of my way, or else'. A clearly marked pathway lead the way while the bustling ants around him continued on. He smirked as he strutted, thinking of all the great accomplishments he had made in life. "What a wondrous person I am," he whispered to himself. His money meant everything to him. What he had was who he was. He thought of all that he had had to do to get where he was. As he was whispering his praises, his attention wavered, and he missed the old gypsy that stepped out into his way unknowingly. He ran into her at full pace bringing them both spilling to the floor. Cursing he rose to his feet. "Do you know who I am?" he shouted. "What is wrong with you?" She rose unsteadily to her feet, her wrinkles becoming even more pronounced under the shadow of the rage that towered above her. As he screamed, he waved his hands dramatically, an old trick he had learned that supposedly showed assertive power to the opposing speaker. Unflinching, she blinked slowly and then reached out and wrapped her hand around his arm, clenching. Her eyes seemed to roll back into her head seeming to become white clouds with scattered streams of blood. Her scratchy voice came out to deep, causing the man to tense up in unease. She seemed to be possessed. "A modest man never talks to himself. Beware." Her body drained of energy as her hand fell from his. Blinking repeatedly she gathered herself and quickly darted into the mass leaving the confused man behind. "What was that?" he thought to himself. Alarmed, he continued on with a sense of urgency to his car. He had always been proud of the sleek black Porsche he called his own. But, when he arrived at his parking space, he dropped everything and ran, crying out as it was towed away. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw the gypsy lady standing where his car had stood, but when he looked, nothing but a dark shadow sat in the space. A chilling breeze ran across him as the word "modest" echoed in his ears.