The Proposal- A play

The Proposal

SCENE- Entry hall in CHERYL and HARRISON’s grand home. It is late evening.

The hall is brightly lit and impeccably furnished, made for people who had the money for extravagant taste. A large crystal chandelier dangles, a centerpiece for the sweeping staircases on either side.

[CHERYL descends the stairs wearing a long black gown and pearls, just as HARRISON enters through the doors carrying a black briefcase and smaller bag.]

CHERYL: Just getting home now I see.

HARRISON: And where are you off to?

[CHERYL brushes the question off as if he never asked and continues down the stairs.]

HARRISON: I’m talking to you.

[HARRISON grabs CHERYL’s arm as she passes, trying to get her attention. She turns and looks at his hand, and then him.]

CHERYL: (in a wild burst of emotion) You’re never home anymore! All you do is work and go out with your friends. You expect me to be okay with the fact that the only time I see you is when I’m sleeping? (HARRISON removes his hand.)

CHERYL: Well I’m not. I haven’t been for a while. You want me to be here at home and attend the socialites parties and be your trophy. I don’t think I can do that for you anymore. I’m sorry I can’t be the one you want, all this time I’ve been trying to be. (She turns a bit angry.) And to think I had been doing that. For what? People always talk, “Why they’ve been dating for 12 years and not a ring in sight.” “Why does she stay with him?” “What is it that she does while he works all day?” I don’t want to be that girl- no woman!- anymore!

[HARRISON stares at her, astonished. She’s never shown him this much emotion before. CHERYL turns around and pats her face as if an unseen tear had fallen. Her makeup was still perfectly intact.]

HARRISON: I never meant to hurt you, you know that. I haven’t been with friends either. All those nights, I was at the office.

CHERYL: For what? The secretary you just hired? Or maybe a new client?

[HARRISON ducks his head and shakes it incredulously. He turns and sets his bags on the ground, kneeling to look through them. CHERYL watches indignant that he hadn’t listened to her at all. She had just about had enough.]

HARRISON: No, I stayed for you. (He swivels holding a large black velvet box and watches and CHERYL’s eyes and mouth open wide.) You see, I put in those extra hours for so long to not compromise our future by buying this. It’s taken so long because I needed it to be perfect for the perfect woman in my life. (He opens the box.)

[Inside the box are a set of earrings, a necklace, and a large diamond ring. They sparkle with class and expense. The earrings center diamonds are the size of a pinky nail, offset are a swirl of tiny diamonds, they aren’t blingy but they are perfect. The necklace has one pendant similar to the earrings but larger. The ring holds a large circular diamond with a band inlaid with diamonds. It is the most perfect thing CHERYL has ever laid eyes on. Her eyes well up.]

HARRISON: CHERYL, will you marry me? Even though the time it’s taken me to say those words, you are the brightest light in my life. I love you and don’t want you to go. (His eyes well up as CHERYL nods and collapses into his arms.)

Beyonce As A Politician

This was a fun assignment because we were taking someone who normally plays a completely separate role in society and place them in a different one. I took the pop star Beyonce and transformed her into a hard-working politician. It probably would've helped if I included her name in the poem...

The crowd cheered

as the professionally

dress woman finished

her speech. "Thank

you, your support 

never fails," she 

graciously says.

As she exits off

the stage cameras

flash with her

picture being taken.

But the cameras

do not tell the

stress marked in

her eyes. The

tiredness weighing

down her step.

She wants whats

best for her people.

So vote for her!

My Name

This was a short funny little blurb we wrote about in class about our names. We all have an interesting story involved with our names and people are always making mistakes on mine. Some of those mistakes make for a good story though!

     My parents thought they were being creative when they named Elisa. My mother's boss' daughter was named Elisa, but that sounded to French to them. In order to "Americanize" it, they changed the ending -e to an -a. And in doing that they ruined any correct pronunciation possibilities. Over the years I have been called: Eliza, Alisa, Elise, Elyse, Alisha, Alisia, LiLi, and Alicia. Some of these are no where near my real name and some of them deserve an A for effort. But in actuality, all you have to do is sound my name and you will pronounce it right. There's no silent vowels or tricky spelling. It is Elisa.

Why I Am Not a Poet

This was an assignment where you had to choose something you were not and write about it. It's a little confusing at first because you really have to think of something you're not good at. Being the non-creative person I am, I came up with why I'm not a poet. If I could go back I would change it to why I'm not an athlete.

Kids around me

writing quickly

I wish I was a

poet. But I am

not. I wish I

could write those

beautiful words,

performed

with style and sass.

"It may not always be

your best. They can't

all be winners," the

teacher says. I sigh,

and look back at

the blank paper.

I may be here,

and my pencil

may be moving, but

I am not a poet

Never have been,

Never will be.

Tiger

This was a descriptive poem that was supposed to include all five senses. We did these based of a picture and the person who was read our poem was supposed to try to find the picture. I doubt anyone was able to get the correct picture but I would've gone back and included some more description next time around.

People see me as unhappy

But I do not live badly

My cinnamon skin

Has not been made thin

The cool fall breeze

does not chill me

Your stinging comments do not faze

I, myself, live in an innocent daze.

The smell and rustle

of a palm trees bustle

Are what show me delight

in the dead of the night

The feeling of cool bamboo floors

Have often held the cure

for my small tired feet

and soothe me into peaceful sleep

You way call me unhappy

But I'm still carefree, after all,

A tiger does not lose sleep

Over the opinion of sheep.

Short poems

These were some short poems we came up with in class. I might have come up with a better haiku if I went back but I love cats so it works. I liked these four the best because some were funny and some were serious.


Haiku
Cat , why are you glad
You have the perfect cat life
Sniff your green cat nip

Clerihew
One Direction
I give you my affection
My heart belongs to
Five guys that belong in a zoo

Acrostic
A girl without many friendS
With more books than them toO
Knocked out because she didn't have a creW
Wishing everyone would learn to bE
A lonely girl, wanting to be like you and I
Down not forever. She's not the one who jumpeD

ABC
Awaken back
Can't duck everytime from
giving her innocence justice
Keep learning, mistakes never
omit punishment.
Queens realize some things
underestimate victory
Why x-perience yearning zealousy?

Vingette

This assignment was to recall a memory that says something about you and describe it with as much detail as possible. This memory was my first time on my favorite roller coaster Screamin' Over California in California Advenureland. I love the thrill of roller coasters and would ride them until my head spun.

            I remember the clicking of the roller coaster harnesses as they lowered. Giddy with excitement, I smiled cheekily at my dad, the only adult I could persuade on going with me. It was my first time riding “Screamin’ over California” in Disneyland’s neighbor and partner California Adventureland. My heart was running as fast as a racehorse, my breath came in short, small breaths. The roller coaster was a bright orange that shouted speed and the white glistened in the hot sun.

            There was a whoosh as the roller coaster was released from the loading zone to the place where the take off would take place. We coasted down the tracks to where we came to stop, clicking the whole way there. There was a jolt as the coaster came to a complete stop. You could taste the anticipation in the air as the countdown began.

            I found myself counting down mentally with the whiney cartoon voice that voiced them. I strained against the harness wanting to be flying down the tracks already. Finally the time came. The roller coaster shot as fast as a silver bullet down the tracks. I swear it was going to break the sound barrier it was going so fast.

I remember the whole reason I begged and stretched to be tall enough to ride that roller coaster. It was that loop, the loop outlining the Mickey Mouse head that convinced me. I had never been on a roller coaster with a loop before in my short life and I was absolutely convinced that this was the one. As we flew down the tracks, I remember regretting getting on that ride. Every hill we climbed just to fly down again I regretted that decision. But by the time the camera flash took our picture and the roller coaster came to a stop, I was ready to go again. And I did… Three more times.

Face to Face

In my revision I focused mostly on developing the story a little bit more. It already had a beginning, middle, and end, I just wanted to fill in the blanks some more. That included character development to make the reader see deeper into the story. This is a creepy little story, probably produced from too many episodes of crime shows, but it also struggles with the issue of was this justified? It is hard to do that with such little words but I hope it works!

The two stood face to face, looking in the other’s eyes.

            “What do you want?” The man asked, studying the other man’s body language.

            He never replied. His hair was long, about shoulder length and blonde. Blue eyes stared calmly and deadly. He towered over the short, balding man with a belly that stuck out, bloated with beer and hard liquors.

            “Anything you want, I’ll give it to you.” The first man pleaded.

            “As you may recall, you have something of mine. The child you and your wife could never make,” he said steadily.

            The blue-eyed man watched as the other recalled the night on a train when a young toddler was stolen. It was a crowded train, and they stole into the night of the poorly lit station. The blue-eyed man could imagine his wife’s astonishment and initial reaction of wrong doing when he first brought home this child. But as she saw the little girl with her big blue eyes and soft blonde hair and realized that could be hers. The maternal need and want to have this child as hers soon began to outweigh her morals.

            “You were supposed to never be able to find us. We did everything, we changed our names, we moved halfway across the country, you weren’t supposed to be here,” he whispered, eyes widening with recognition.

            “It took years. But that night you took my baby, the only meaning I had to my life, you took. I spent 13 years looking for you and I would spend 13 more if I had to.” He threw the first man against the alley wall in a chokehold.

            It was dark and late. Nobody would be around to hear him. The first man should have taken a taxi home instead of walking from the bar. He realized this now. If only he was not so cheap, that could have saved his life.

            “I’ve seen the way you treat her and your wife. You come home drunk every night and can’t even get up in the morning. But you and I both know I won’t get caught tonight. I’ve waited 13 years. That’s given me plenty of time to watch and plan and see why you deserve this.” The blue-eyed man pulled out a knife with a gloved hand. His anger filled his mind over how this man had treated his baby. He had meant what he said about waiting another 13 years as long as he got his baby back.

            The man did not even have time to scream, nor would he have been sober enough to try and struggle his way out. There was a slight pause before the blue-eyed man withdrew his knife and walked away. Soon he would be able to have his baby. He knew his plan from here on out and was ready to put it in motion.

            He knew the town drunk would not be missed. He was more of a burden to the police than what he was worth. The town lights dimmed on the shadowy figure. And then there was one.

Murwood Story

This story was probably the best project we had in creative writing. Our class each got an elementary student and we got to write a story for them. It was a big change from the normal writing we had been doing but it was still really fun, especially getting to give them to the kids. If I could change anything I would probably add some more description.

Eliza and the Prince Panda

Once upon a time, a young girl named Eliza lived on the tropical shores of Hawaii. She lived in a big brown two-story house with her mother, father, brother, and sister. On most days you could find Eliza riding her bike with her friends or hanging out with her family on the beach.

One day, while Eliza was riding her bike down the street, she saw a strange hole in the middle of the road. She got off her bike to investigate.

“This is a strange hole,” said Eliza, looking down at the darkness. “I wonder what could be down there?”

She got down on her hands and knees to investigate. Eliza inched forward, but suddenly her hand slipped and she found herself falling down the deep dark hole.

Eliza wasn't sure how long she had been falling before she landed with a thud on her back.

“Ouch,” she muttered, while picking herself up. Looking around her, Eliza realized she didn’t know where she was.

There were large, fluffy trees that looked like cotton candy and blue, thorny bushes with fruit growing on them. It was a hot day with a little breeze blowing through the trees.

She saw a trail and began to follow it, hoping to find someone or something.

It wasn’t long before she came across a large, furry black and white animal. It seemed like it was crying!

“Hello?” she called out. It turned around, showing it was a panda bear.

“Hello?” it answered, with a sob. “Could you help me please?”

A talking panda! thought Eliza.

“Uh, yes. Maybe I could. What is wrong?”

“You see, I’m the prince of the forest but I seem to have lost my way while my guides were protecting me! I need to get home very quickly or else my mother and father will be so worried.”

Eliza didn’t see anything wrong with helping the poor bear. “Yes, I’ll help you but only if you or you guides can help me out of here. I fell down a hole and ended up here!”

“Of course we can help you find your way home,” agreed the Prince.

Eliza showed the Prince how to retrace his steps and soon it seemed like they were on the right path once again. While they walked, Eliza told him about her life at home and her family and the beach she lived on. The Prince in return told her about his.

“I’ve lived in the palace for as long as I can remember,” the Prince said. “My parents are very well loved in the kingdom and try to help as many of our people as possible. I rarely get to leave the safety of those walls but I still have a good life. My advisors are mostly my friends, I don’t have many my age. But my people and I play and eat and sleep just like you.”

“Well, you can always consider me your friend,” Eliza said with a smile.

After an hour of walking, they reached the palace.

“Thank you so much for helping me find my way home!”  cried the Prince.

“No problem. Now I just need to find my own way home.”

“Yes, I think we have a portal in the palace to the world you talk about.”

This made Eliza very happy and she said her goodbyes to the Prince as two guides led her into the palace and to a portal in the wall.

She stepped through and almost instantly felt herself arrive back in her own world. She was next to her bike again and on her street again. Eliza thought to herself that she probably shouldn’t share the adventure she just had with anyone and even if she did they probably wouldn’t believe her.

She walked her bike home and had dinner with her family. And though she never told anyone, she would never forget the day she met the Prince Panda.

An Eastside Story

     This assignment was supposed to take an old fairy tale from our childhood and modernize it. I wanted to make this ironic but fun in the way it related to the original fairy tale. This piece is slightly Gossip Girl and Sleeping beauty combined and I had fun writing it.

                Once upon a time, in the land of Manhattan, lived an Upper-Eastsider named Briar Rose. She was quite an alluring beauty with flowing blonde hair, gentle blue eyes, and a body that could cause a car accident. She lived in the penthouse in the tallest building in the Upper Eastside. Her parents, Stefan and Leah, owned many of the buildings in Manhattan and were seen as the most influential power couple around.

                But when Briar was a child, she was cursed with an awful disease called narcolepsy. This misfortune caused Briar to fall asleep at random moments, but, with a doctor’s help, her family and her family had been able to help resolve the problem, though it could never be fully gone. Planned naps and a good night’s sleep kept Briar from having episodes.

                One day while Briar was out shopping after her first daily nap, her Louis Vuitton stilettos caught on a sidewalk crack. Briar stumbled and almost fell if it had not been for the man who caught her just in time.

                “Oh my goodness!” exclaimed Briar as she struggled to regain balance. She looked up and in front of her was the most gorgeous man she had ever laid eyes on. He had trimmed light brown hair, piercing blue eyes, and a well-tailored suit.

                “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” stuttered Briar. She blushed at her clumsiness.

                “I should be asking you that. Are you okay?” he asked in return.

                “Yes, I am fine thanks to you. I’m sorry, again. Please let me make it up to you.”

                “I’m free tonight at 8,” the man said with a charming grin. “What is your name?”

                “Briar. Briar Rose. Yours? And eight sounds wonderful. I’ll meet you at the Poisoned Thorn?” she asked with a sly grin.

                “My name is Phillip. And I will see you there.” And with that, they parted ways until eight o’clock that night.

                Briar so caught up in a whirlwind of shopping, outfits, and Phillip completely forgot to take her second and third daily naps. By the time eight rolled around she was a time bomb wired with nerves and excitement. Her handmaid, Betty, had been ensnared in Briar’s whirlwind and forgotten as well.

                Betty escorted Briar to the Poisoned Thorn and promised to be back in an hour. Briar found Phillip and they sat and talked and ate. While sitting, Briar felt her nerves relax and her eyelids began to drop. A great big yawn escaped her lips.

                “Looks like someone’s a little tired,” joked Phillip. But as he was talking, Briar’s head was already laying on the table, peacefully asleep.

                Not thirty seconds later, Betty came running in. On her way home she had realized that Briar had not had her naps that day, which could only cause disaster. She ran over to the table where a confounded Phillip sat and a sleeping Briar lay.

                “What are you doing? You have you not helped her?” Betty screeched at Phillip.

                “What do I do?” He responded, still entirely confused.

                “She is narcoleptic! We have to wait for her to wake up or carry her out to the car.” Betty determined.

                “I’ll carry her. You grab her stuff.” Phillip gingerly lifted her into his arms and carried her down to the car; Betty following behind him with Briar’s purse.

                They drove to Briar’s house, Phillip insisting that he come and make sure she awakened safely. Betty made him wait in the loft as she put Briar to bed. Four hours later, she awakened and found Phillip asleep in one of her family’s armchairs. She gently shook him awake.

                “You fell asleep.” He stated.

                “I know. And you waited.” She said. “Thank you, even though I missed some of it I still had a wonderful evening.”

                Phillip stood. “So did I. Maybe next time, we’ll be able to finish the date?”

                “I would like that,” Briar said, as she walked him to the elevator. He turned and looked at her before giving her a quick peck and stepping into the elevator.

                “Until next time…” He said with a smile, and the elevator doors closed.

And they lived happily ever after.

Pizza

     The original assignment was to create a 6-word memoir describing you, it could be about anything as long as it was 6 words. This project was really fun trying to fit in the appropriate amount of words. I chose this because it shows the struggle a lot of people have with dieting and food. Pizza, being one of my favorite foods, is one of my biggest problems. I hope someone can relate to this problem!

Burning House

      The assignment for this was the question: If your house was burning down, what items would you take? I really liked this project because it made me think about what was the most important things to me and what would I sacrifice. If I could change anything about this project, I would add some more items in that I thought of later.

Name: Elisa
Location: California, USA
List:

• Stuffed bear given to me from my boyfriend on our first Valentine's Day
• Worn-In Sperry's
• Looking For Alaska
• Yellow rubber dog
• Infiniti G35 car keys
• Garden ornament given to me from a friend
• iPhone
• Picture of: Me and my older sister, age 4; me and my older sister, age 12; me and my mom

Willow Tree

     I've always had a certain fasination with willow trees. I think they're exceptionally graceful and beautiful the way they arch and dance in the wind. This story was inspired by that fascination and what it is like under those arching arms and peaceful breeze that floats through them. This was an assignment to look through something elses eyes and if I changed anything about it, I would most likely add time passages to make it flow more smoothly.

     I sit here with my roots stuck deep in the ground. Dug deep under the layers of dirt which have been placed upon them. The ground is rich and cool where I sit. When I was a sapling, I was confined to life in a plastic black pot until people came and they took me away. That was many years ago. Those people planted me next to the creek, deep in a field. I have  watched generations come and discover me and use my arch of arms for shade. I sit and I watch and wait and have many stories but they are all very slow and move like a never ending river.

    The most recent is Molly and Thomas. They are both young, but not children still. Molly discovered me first when she was a child. It was many years after she came to visit the first time. But she brought Thomas with her and they kept coming back. I watched her and Thomas grow. I saw them argue and kiss and come and go.

    Molly has blonde hair and always sits by the roots of my trunk. Thomas, who has brown hair, always sits at her feet, leaning against her legs. When they argue it seems like such trivial matters to a tree like me. But many things humans do seem like trivial matters to my kind. When they were at the peak of time before they became adults, I watched Molly and Thomas and listened to their tearful conversation. Something was happening, and I had seen it once before. It was just before the weather became so painfully stale and dry the creek had almost nothing left.

    Molly was distressed. I ruffled my arms and moved them about, the only way I could show my disapproval of this. I had always favored Molly over Tom. Molly’s hair gently blew like my arms.

    It was in this moment of noticing this small detail that Thomas got down on one knee. I wasn’t sure what this detail meant but I knew it was a tremendous change in the way things would always be between Molly and Thomas.

    After this moment it would be many years before I saw them again. But the wind blows and the trees whisper and the bond between the two became united by law. The ceremony was outdoors and the trees spread it quickly. I was sad I did not get to see it because it sounded like a slow beautiful event that us trees like.

    The next time I saw Molly and Thomas there were two children with them. Molly had changed her hair and the body of an athlete Thomas once had was beginning to fade. The lines in their faces had become perceptible and marked the wear they had endured, much like the cracked bark that covered me.

    As time passed, they never left again. I watched the children grow and soon the girl looked so much like Molly when I first saw her I couldn’t see a difference. Thomas and Molly grew older together and I never saw them argue anymore, I only saw a gentle touch or a constant hand to hold. Their hair turned gray and the trees whispered as usual and Molly and Thomas were buried together at the cemetery closest to the creek which they had spent their whole lives around.

A Minor Car Accident

Kenzie and I wanted to make a situation that was funny and just had a little fun with this. I pictured this being us if we got into a car accident that would technically be considered our fault. Can't deny that I would try to make myself look like the victim. I may have made these longer if I were to change anything or ask the actual person how they would have responded.

Situation: “Minor Car Accident”

Telling my mother:

            Don’t get mad mom but…I got into a car accident, but it’s really small! No one was hurt, almost no damage. I’ll pay for the damage. The people in front of me that I hit might sue me but I’ll take care of it don’t worry. I was going slowly, everything will be fine.

Telling my best friend:

            OMG! I got into a car accident. It was so bad! Like the people were so mean, they weren’t even hurt. Barley dented their car and they bitched at me for like an hour. Wasn’t even my fault! I’ll have to pay so much. FML.

Telling my boyfriend:

            Baby, please help me. I got into a car accident and I’m under so much stress. My insurance is going to go up so much and I didn’t even do anything. And the lady was so rude. Like I barely damaged her car. I just need you to comfort me right now.

Telling my therapist:

            I feel like I’m not doing anything wrong but I get blamed for it. Even at home I feel like no one ever listens to me. And now I’m so stressed out. I don’t even know what to do. What am I going to do?

Telling a police officer:

I’m really sorry officer *sob* I was just going along and they just hit they’re brakes so fast, I just didn’t have enough time…yes this is my first accident, I’m not really sure what to do. I didn’t mean to do it. I hope the insurance covers it. I promise to be more careful.

Distrust and Courage

I wrote this as an experimental paragraph form of poetry in class. It was a way to vent out how much I hate trust issues (not that I don't have them myself) and the way to beat them. It is about taking a chance with trusting someone and letting them in.

Distrust looks everyone in the eye. She knows and is best friends with jealousy and guilt. She’ll try to show you she is good to you, she’ll keep you safe, but when you let your guard down, she’ll call her best friends to show you up. She lurks in the dark around your loved ones, dissatisfied with what you say. She’ll follow you home every night, sitting on your shoulder telling you what to do. She’ll wrap herself around you and the last thing she gets is your heart. Distrust chases away the people you want to know and the ones who previously knew you. But if you find Courage you will be able to look Distrust in the eyes. You’ll be able to say you don’t want her around anymore. Courage can be the one showing you how to withdraw her grasp from your heart or he can be the one whispering to try again tomorrow.