I am homeschooled during the week, and then on Friday I attend a Tutorial school where everyone turns in their homework from during the week. The first day, my English teacher asked us all to come up with an adjective that starts with the letter of our first name to identify ourselves. My name is Daniel, and I had to go first. Like, how many positive adjectives start with D? Demolishing, Devious, Destructive...
So now I'm known as Destructive Daniel. But tutorial has been going good, besides some football mess-ups, walking in to the wrong class and the whole destructive Daniel thing.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Friday, September 10, 2010
Black Tuesday
Alice glanced up as Samuel walked in. He shut the door rather harshly, then proceeded to the table where Alice sat. She gave him a smile, but his hardened face didn’t show any acknowledgment. He lifted a newspaper and held it beside his head. “It’s all gone, Alice”. She reached for the newspaper, which was dated October 30, 1929. Her glasses rested on a small box in the kitchen. “Care fetch my glasses?” she asked. Samuel shuffled to the kitchen. He noticed that most of his daughters' money jars were gone, probably due to Alice having to pay another bill. Reaching for Alice’s glasses, he abruptly heard a shrill cry from the dining room. He grabbed the glasses and ran back in, where he saw his wife’s face deathly white. Her hands shook, and she set the paper down. Her eyesight had been failing since she was thirty, but she had managed to read the first couple of words of the huge title stamped onto the thin paper. STOCKS COLLAPSE.
Early the next morning, Samuel walked into the small newspaper company's office he had worked for for the last three years. Jack Auldar looked up from the tall stack of papers on his desk, which appeared to have been there a long time. “Hey Sad, come on in!” Samuel’s nickname, “sad” came from his name, which was Samuel Anderson Drodstone. He hated it, although it now seemed very fitting. Auldar’s face abruptly became depressed, as if he suddenly realized something. “Mr. Drodstone”, he began. Samuel knew that when Jack called him by his last name, there was something wrong. He knew it before he had stepped foot into the office. “You have been with our paper boys' team for, uh, two years?” “Three, sir”, Samuel corrected. Jack continued, “Yes. Now, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but we can’t hold you on anymore.”
The long walk home was miserable. The same nine year-old boy who had sold him the copy of The New York Times the day before was still very busy with his huge stack of newspapers. He turned to Samuel, with a smile, but doom seemed do be etched on his face. He understood what was happening, but ironically he was benefitting from it. Drodstone walked in to his house. He heard his children’s laughs in a nearby room, and his wife was busy cleaning up the babies' room. He just couldn’t tell her he had lost his job, right after losing all of their savings. So he simply walked into his room and shut the door quietly.
In the morning, he woke up early and got dressed. His wife thought he was going to work. He slipped out the door and walked up the narrow stone sidewalk. He didn’t know where he was going, yet he knew he was going to get there. After about an hour, he remembered the town’s employment center down near the bank. But he couldn’t go in. A large crowd was gathered around the bank and the employment center. The men’s fists were waiving and papers were scattered everywhere. Almost everyone was shouting, but it was impossible to interpret. Samuel walked away. Seeing a crumpled newspaper laying on the ground, he reached for it. It was the most recent paper. His eyes jetted across the pages, finally realizing what was going on.
“In a few days, America will change.” he whispered.
Early the next morning, Samuel walked into the small newspaper company's office he had worked for for the last three years. Jack Auldar looked up from the tall stack of papers on his desk, which appeared to have been there a long time. “Hey Sad, come on in!” Samuel’s nickname, “sad” came from his name, which was Samuel Anderson Drodstone. He hated it, although it now seemed very fitting. Auldar’s face abruptly became depressed, as if he suddenly realized something. “Mr. Drodstone”, he began. Samuel knew that when Jack called him by his last name, there was something wrong. He knew it before he had stepped foot into the office. “You have been with our paper boys' team for, uh, two years?” “Three, sir”, Samuel corrected. Jack continued, “Yes. Now, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but we can’t hold you on anymore.”
The long walk home was miserable. The same nine year-old boy who had sold him the copy of The New York Times the day before was still very busy with his huge stack of newspapers. He turned to Samuel, with a smile, but doom seemed do be etched on his face. He understood what was happening, but ironically he was benefitting from it. Drodstone walked in to his house. He heard his children’s laughs in a nearby room, and his wife was busy cleaning up the babies' room. He just couldn’t tell her he had lost his job, right after losing all of their savings. So he simply walked into his room and shut the door quietly.
In the morning, he woke up early and got dressed. His wife thought he was going to work. He slipped out the door and walked up the narrow stone sidewalk. He didn’t know where he was going, yet he knew he was going to get there. After about an hour, he remembered the town’s employment center down near the bank. But he couldn’t go in. A large crowd was gathered around the bank and the employment center. The men’s fists were waiving and papers were scattered everywhere. Almost everyone was shouting, but it was impossible to interpret. Samuel walked away. Seeing a crumpled newspaper laying on the ground, he reached for it. It was the most recent paper. His eyes jetted across the pages, finally realizing what was going on.
“In a few days, America will change.” he whispered.
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