The New York Times bestseller, The Fault In Our Stars, was announced to become a movie in mid July. Shailene Woodley was cast as Hazel Grace, a 17 year old with lung cancer. Ansel Elgort was cast as Augustus Waters, an inspirational teenager who abruptly shows up in Hazel's life and alters her future forever. On August 26th, 2013, filming for The Fault in Our Stars began in Pittsburg, Pennsylvania. The author of the novel, John Green, kept fans posted on his tumblr and his youtube channel. John has expressed many enthusiastic comments about the movie and has announced that he will be playing a minor role in the film. There are many set photos taken by the cast and crew of the film that have been posted on various social networks. Fans, like me, have been raving and excitedly awaiting the arrival of the film to theaters. Pick up a copy of The Fault in Our Stars, ball your eyes out, and come join the Nerdfighteria (a common name used to describe the group of fans dedicated to John Green and his various novels). The film has been set to come to theaters near you on June 6th of 2014. Until then, DFTBA.
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It all started when the third stone came skipping back.
Mary and Mark were normal twins; they fought every day and were pretty normal, but not totally. “I bet I’ll win,” said Mark with confidence. “NO, I WILL!” exclaimed Mary. “Fine! Let’s go down to the lake and have a skipping contest.” It was the game Mary and Mark played to end an argument. Mark’s two stones were five, but Mary’s were only two. “Ha, I win!” exclaimed Mark. “No, it was best out of three,” Mary said sharply. “Fine,” Mark replied briskly. Then the unthinkable happened: the third stone came back! Mary and Mark watched the stone flop in front of their feet. They looked at each other, turned, and ran. When the twins got home they didn’t tell anybody because they heard about Emma and Evan who disappeared at that lake, and they were told not to go or talk about the lake. Buford was walking home from the party late last night. He was walking through the alley shortcut when he heard it. Merowww? Merowww? Rowr! Hiss! Fttt! Butford raced into the darkness to break up the cat fight. Little did he know that it would have a great effect on his very near future. ...
Have you ever gone camping in the dark woods and sat around the glowing red and orange campfire with flames jumping around and ate creamy delicious s'mores? Have you ever slept in a small cramped tent that takes ages to put up and when you do put it up its wrong because all the confusing parts and the directions. The directions are terrible and you can barely read them because all the different languages Chinese, Spanish and tons more. Then when it’s time to go to sleep, but you can’t really go to sleep because the bumps in the ground and the crickets chirping and the toads make an obnoxious noise- woooua woooua. Surprisingly, I like camping. I think it’s fun. I know a lot of people are probably saying ‘how does he like that stuf?’, I just like fishing, hunting, and the great outdoors.
So one Wednesday my friend Ian Cummings called me and said, “Do you and your dad want to go camping at my grandparents over the weekend for two days?” “Yeah, sure, but my dad can't go because he has to drive my sister to visit a college. My dad said that he could drive me up to the farm.” I answered. Ian said that his dad could drive me back home.
It's no secret that NBC has been the leading producer of comedy shows on prime-time for the last two decades: with shows like Friends, The Office, 30 Rock, Cheers, and Seinfeld. All of these critically acclaimed shows - which are not the only comedies NBC has to offer - are branded "Sophisticated Comedy": smart jokes with complex characters that are easily relatable. All of these shows have won awards and had (mostly) great ratings - so great that no other channel put any comedies on Thursday nights because that was the NBC Comedy Block.
But if they were doing so well with these smart comedies, why are they refusing to make anymore - and keep the current ones on the air? The simple answer - FOX and ratings. In that past few years, FOX has introduced three new comedies that rival anything on NBC right now: New Girl, The Mindy Project, and Brooklyn Nine-Nine - funny enough, these shows star or have regular guest stars that we're on NBC's biggest comedy, Saturday Night Live. FOX has made it very clear that they are moving away from their short-lived family comedies to smarter comedies. And NBC is making it very easy for them to take over as the new leader of comedy. Think of the storm roaming the sky uneasily
like a dog looking for a place to sleep in, listen to it growling.” “To the intelligent, nature converts itself into a vast promise, and will not be rashly explained.” -Ralph Waldo Emerson It was August, Summer 2013. Wednesday, at soccer camp. Coach had just dismissed us. Me and my friend Jack Miller were walking to get our bikes. We looked up, and saw dark, growing clouds, looking as though they were about to let out an immense shower of water. They were menacing, and had an aura that meant business. It made me visualize the worst rainstorm on Earth, but even worse. And guess what happened, just as we hopped on our bikes. It did just what I had previously described. It started to rain. And when I mean rain, I mean RAIN. The rain clouds were a pitcher of water, pouring down at us like crazy, the rain traveling at incredible speeds from the clouds, raiding down at us. We couldn’t even hear each other speak as the deafening roar drowned all sounds except its own. We sat on our bikes and started to ride, or should I say, inch up the hill. We couldn’t even ride up it because of the rain and how slippery the road felt. It made my muscles feel like they we riding up a mountain encased in an everlasting coat of ice. In other words, the hill was not letting us get up. To make it even worse, the winds gusted, with sudden breezes blasting at us with a gargantuan amount of force. When we rode even one foot, it was a milestone. Eventually, after very hard work, we reached the top of the hill. That’s when the fun began. Jack and I were going really fast as we glided down the sidewalks and streets. The water felt like a burst of energy as it hit us; it just made us go even faster. It also felt really refreshing after a hard morning of soccer. It almost felt like flying. I was drenched to the bone, but I didn’t care. Jack and I yelled with joy. It was an awesome experience. Then, it came. The hill. Located at Florence Avenue down to Runnymede Avenue. Actually, not just the hill, but the hill that might just assist in breaking the record for fastest speed on a bike while it was raining. Okay, that might not be a real thing, but to us at the moment it was. We looked down the edge. The rain was battering the road, showing no mercy. The wind ferociously blew the trees back and forth like the big pine trees were little twigs. The power of the storm stopped me, and I spoke for the first time. “ Let’s go.” That’s all it took for us to start pedaling as fast as we could down the hill. Honestly, and I bet Jack would say this too, it felt like the rain wasn’t even touching me. It was like a day at the waterpark, except it wasn’t all nice and sunny. I heard the gales of wind shot past me, not the screams of happy riders. Here I saw a wall of water in front of me, not a clear blue sky and the sun. Here I tasted the rain as it bombarded me, not the fresh, crisp air and the cool breeze. That’s how fast we were going. This event showed me how fun rain, and nature, could be. It can make the coolest moments of your life happen. I hope you think again next time its raining and you want to stay indoors. Gasping, reaching, frantically clawing at what she presumed was the sky, attempting to gain freedom from the mass. She could feel it rushing, faster and faster to a place she did not wish to find. Every surface break was followed by an immediate shove underwater, coming from the murky liquid itself. One extended airbreak gave the woman time to survey her surroundings. The scene was disastrous. Above the waterline lay the tattered ruins of a neighborhood. Roofs stood in the water, slanted and misshapen, tiles slipping away one by one. All material aspects of life was whisked away by the water. Pots, pans, dresses, dolls, books, TV’s. As the water surged onwards, she was able to stay afloat, orienting herself. The woman searched frantically, hoping to find something, anything she could hold onto. Yet the rainy haze obscured her vision terribly. Underneath the water another fight for life occurred. As the woman moved with the fluid, her leg caught suddenly. But the water kept moving. She slammed back first into the metal hood of a car. Her breathes contained no air now, as the water kept pushing her backwards, and the car’s windshield wiper held her firmly in place. Drunk from her lack of oxygen, the woman weakly kicked her leg, attempting to detach her jeans from the metal. The wiper snapped, and floated away, as the woman was carried on by the water.
Soon after, moving through the water the woman had slammed head first into a street light, unaffected by the disaster. She gripped the pole with ferocity, refusing to obeying the water’s command. One hand above the other, she pulled herself up higher and higher, ridding her entire body from the mass. Finally, as her last foot pulled free, a thought struck her mind. Her head hurt, badly. She felt dizzy, as if she had been spun around and around, over and over again, each and every time spinning faster and faster. Waves of nausea and vomiting plagued her during the moments that followed, and the pain was a burning sensation with every convulsion. But she hung on, her eyes going in and out of focus as she stared at the moving water. After the water had lost some of its power, the woman gradually eased herself in. She blundered around, scanning the perimeter for anything familiar, but her memory failed. After trudging through fallen tree limbs, telephone poles, and roofs she saw it. Through the shield of rain came blinking light. She thought they were growing bigger, but couldn’t focus hard enough to tell for sure. Searching for something to help her get the attention of whatever was up there, she scaled a one story home and began waving frantically on the flat roof. The lights grew closer. She moved her entire body ignoring the pain for this one glimmer of hope. As the pounding of the blades grew louder, it was all too much. The woman collapsed in an exhausted heap. She now knew what these blinking lights in the sky were, and she prayed the pilot had seen the movement. The woman could not again muster the energy to save her own life. She rolled on her back facing the sky, tasting one last drop of freedom, as darkness enveloped her mind. She awoke to deafening sounds, reminding her once again of the ache in her pulsating head. She glanced around, drunk from the pain. To her right a small girl, about 7 or 8. She looked terrified and was gazing between the woman, and the pilot whose head hung slightly to the left. Realization suddenly came to the woman as she looked from the dented fire hydrant laying on the floor, back to the pilot. The window was smashed, and wind played with every object. A parachute was station next to the woman’s feet, and she instinctively picked it up and placed it on the back of the shivering child. The girl said nothing, but let her do so. There was no time to argue. “You’re going to have to jump. Once you’re away from the helicopter pull the cord and the parachute will open.” The woman yelled to be heard over the noise. “Do you see the large building with all the people outside?” The woman pointed through the rain. The girl nodded, tears in her eyes. “Aim for that building.” The woman could feel the helicopter dropping as she spoke. “I’ll try and steer the helicopter away.” Again the girl nodded, but the tears had fallen. The woman embraced the girl tightly. She felt compelled to offer even the little comfort her touch could give. The girl held on, shaking from the fear and cold. The woman let go, allowing the girl time to turn, facing the outside world. After a single forced breathe, she jumped. The woman watched her go, untroubled by the soon coming danger. The girl was close to the ground now she could see. The bright red parachute guided the woman’s vision through the haze. She turned her attention back to the helicopter, that headed toward the shelter where so many survivors would be gathered. The woman checked the pulse of the pilot, not thinking he might be alive until now, but her fingers were met with stillness. She pushed the pilot out of the chair, and weakly sat in his place. Her hair flew in every direction. The woman gripped the cyclic, assuming the large stick protruding from the floor was infact the steering implement. She tilted it back towards herself, and the nose rose higher, causing her to nearly tumble backwards over the seat. Quickly, she moved the stick in the opposite direction, away from herself, and the helicopter tilted downwards. In her haste, she has pushed the cyclic so far forward it stuck. Growing frantic she pulled and yanked with ferocity but move it did not. The ground was approaching fast. She was running out of time, but unexpectedly the image of the small girl flashed in her mind. Anna was her name. Distracted by the revelation she sat back her in chair, waiting for the ground to welcome her descent. Anna was her daughter. The suspense was thriving
The clock was ticking The heads were turning Sorcery was the only savior A friendship that had grown so faithful withered away by the mention of one word Yet there was still time to rekindle it Tick, tock, tick, tock Tears begin to flow as the dragon lord knelt in an empty field with his faithful friend lay helpless on his lap Hope was no more Sadness overcame the minds of the mourners. But years later only one mind withheld the remaining emotions of a lost friend in time. The mist coated the darkness in a layer of ominous silence. The only sound echoing throughout the stands was that of a boy’s footsteps. He traveled along the frozen metal benches, losing his balance only twice. He continued to walk up and down the bleachers, until halted by a sight never had he experienced. The mist swirled and turned, weaving in and out of what he could almost see as a figure. The figure seemed to be controlling the vapor, moving with a fluidity the small fog duplicated. They were dancing in a way; reacting to the movements of the other, creating a balance between them. The boy took a slight step forward, amazed and curious by this sight. Instantly, the mist and its partner stopped moving. The shadow’s back was turned to the boy, and its arms-once up in motion- gradually fell to his sides. The mist slowly moved, twisting and curling towards the boy. He took just a step backwards, but within that step lied his destiny. Slipping on the freezing cold metal the boy collapsed. The mist swarmed in from all sides, creating a dense circular wall, through which he could see nothing. Just moments after he regained his footing a force threw him back to the ground. The mist radiated an iridescent glow around the scene, and standing over him the boy could now clearly see the figure. Realization struck the boys face as he saw who his attacker truly was. The figure lifted his arms quickly. The mist followed simultaneously, and the world stopped. The mist stood still, each drop of vapor clearly visible in the darkness. All noises were interrupted in this moment by silence. Time had stopped. The boy stared into the face of the figure, unable to comprehend the perception of his eyes. The hiatus was soon severed with a deadly scream. The mist slowly accented upwards, revealing the body of the boy, walking from the scene.
scream,
the words from your lips. rupture, the serenity, engulfing you in the flames, of silence. cold, and blue. black, to the core of silence, itself. dark, and frozen through time, you melt. so breathe, so wait, building up. until the time you know, to erupt. fingers, closing around your lips, gasping, for air to fuel the words, waiting, on your tongue, for the moment to strike. but you, can’t, scream. |
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