Emily Wiese 2015

Story:     "Terror"

Poem:     "What is a Butterfly?"

Poem:     "We Are, I Am, You Are"

Poem:     "Nature"

Poem:     "Exam Day"

Story:     "Elliot"

Twitter Pieces

After "Diving Into the Wreck"




     I pulled my wet hair out of my face. The thunder around me seemed deafening in my ears. I jogged to the front door and fumbled with my keys. Squinting, I picked one and thrust it into the lock, with no luck. The lock on this door never worked when I needed it to. Yanking my keys back I ran to the back of the house and tried once again. The rain was pouring, and I needed to get inside. I spotted a large rock nearby and threw it at a back window. Crash! I hoped the sound didn’t disturb the neighbors. Quickly I glanced around me to make sure. I maneuvered my way around the jagged pieces of glass jutting out from the window frame. For a moment, the room lit up with a bright light as a bolt of lightning flashed nearby. In that split second, I saw the broken glass scattered across the dark wooden floors. Loud crunching noises resulted from my every step. I cringed at the noise, but eventually made it to the light switch on the wall. I flipped the switch as I do every day, and the lights sprang to life. They flickered with a soft buzzing noise. And then darkness.


     Sighing, I blindly headed for the garage to retrieve a flashlight. Suddenly, I froze. A soft padding of footsteps was audible, coming from the hallway beside me. My heartbeat began to increase steadily. I tiptoed, panicking, toward my kitchen in search of a weapon to defend myself. I desperately grabbed for a knife, but to my horror felt an empty space where one of the knives should’ve been. I scrambled to grab another one. Behind me I heard a crunch, crunch, crunch, and then silence. More footsteps, closer this time. They appeared to be getting closer, but it was too dark to see anything. I sprinted for the basement door and flew down the stairs. Knife in hand, I waited at the bottom of the steps and around the corner. The basement door slammed shut with a loud bang! I jolted, and raised my knife in front of me. I silently counted each creak of every stair. I had previously known that there were 13 steps built into the basement staircase. Creak… one. Creak… two. Three. Four. Five. A deep roll of thunder shook the house. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. The footsteps stopped. The stranger seemed to be listening. I held my breath, in fear that they would hear my raspy breathing. I shook where I stood, the dull shine of my knife quivering violently in the darkness. I screamed as a bright light shot through the darkness and into my eyes.


     “Who are you?! What are you doing in my house?!” A middle-aged man stood before me in a dark blue bathrobe, flashlight in one hand and steak knife in the other. His eyes were wide, and he looked as scared as I felt. A woman in a pink bathrobe and large curlers in her hair appeared behind the man, holding the hand of a little boy in blue pajamas. I took a deep breath.






What is a Butterfly?


If you are lucky,

a butterfly might find you,

and present you a with glorious display.



A butterfly’s wings

show an array

of oranges, blues, and reds.



While in flight,

the colors mold

and blur together.



But when the wings

are still,

each color individually shines.



A butterfly’s legs

are like spindly black wires,

extending from its body.


The tongue curls

out of its mouth,

delicately spiraling at the end.



They are creatures of nature,

beautiful beings.

What is a butterfly?






We Are, I Am, You Are



The rain poured,

pattering softly on the cement.



We walked outside

and began to dance.



We danced in the rain,

letting the nature’s music guide us.



Our arms waved above our heads

like waves in the ocean.



And our legs leaped,

every step a splash of water.



Hair dripped around our faces;

being wet meant nothing to us.



We laughed and we sang,

the moonlight dancing in the darkness.










The dark leaves

on the tree

covered the branches like a blanket.



The loud chatter of the camp kids

died away,

and left a peaceful quiet.



A well-worn dirt path had been left behind

by others

who had walked here before.



It wound around the trees,

down into gorges,

and up hills.



The only sound I could hear

was a faint whisper in the breeze

and a rustling of leaves.



The forest creatures

began to return to their homes

after being scared away by the camp kids.



A wide trail

split the forest

from a tall yellow grassland.



The forest

beside me was serene

and peaceful.



I could see from across the trail

telephone poles,

jutting through the grass.



Only a mile away

was civilization and the busy,

loud sounds that came with it.



As I headed back to camp,

I realized that peace in nature

was more difficult to find.







Exam Day



Taking an exam

is the most boring thing

I have to do.



I sit in a hard and uncomfortable chair

and rest my arms

on a smooth, cold desk.



I can hear sighs of boredom

throughout the room

and pencils tapping in frustration on each desk.



Brain waves seem to emit

from minds around the room,

as students desperately try to recall information.



Other students

are gazing at the clock,

counting each second until the final bell rings.



Any cough, sneeze, or stomach growl

seems largely amplified

during this time.



I usually end up

staring at the same question

for most of the period.



Once the first person

turns theirs in,

pencils begin to scratch furiously on paper everywhere.



Not one student

wants to be the last one

to turn theirs in.









     Elliot climbed up the ladder to the top bookshelf, and after carefully observing each book’s spine, slid in the book he was carrying. One of the small books towards the end was pushed far back, and he reached for it to pull it back into place. Elliot climbed down the ladder, and walked over to his desk. It was made of dark oak, that fit in perfectly with the rest of the furniture in his downtown bookstore. Each book fit perfectly in its own place, and everything was neatly organized. Elliot was a man in his mid thirties, who was very shy. He never said much to anyone. His brown hair was combed neatly to the side, and he wore round, black glasses. He always wore jeans, and a turtleneck that varied in color each day. Elliot sat, and drummed his fingers. After taking several sneak peeks at the accessories on his desk, he gave in and started rearranging everything. He moved the staplers and the pens neatly to left corner, and the book he was reading to perfectly align with the edge of the desk. Once Elliot was satisfied, he relaxed and stared around the room for something to do.


     Suddenly, a fat, shiny black beetle scuttered across Elliot’s neatly organized desk. He gasped and almost fell out of his chair in his attempt to run away. The beetle ran to Elliot’s pencil can, and climbed in. He observed the bug’s every move from across the room, his eyes round. Elliot desperately looked around him for a weapon, and his eyes landed on a fat book on the middle shelf. He snatched it, and carefully proceeded to his desk. Once he stood a couple feet away from the pencil can, the beetle scurried over the side of the desk and onto the floor towards Elliot. He jumped onto his desk, the book still in hand. His eyes fixed on the beetle, he watched as it made several turns, the journey finally ending behind a book on the bottom shelf. Elliot stood quivering on top of his desk, and held the book up like a weapon, as if the beetle would jump out and attack him.


     A familiar tinkle of a bell rang through the bookstore, and a woman walked in. She had dark chocolate colored hair held up in a bun, and straight bangs that hung over her forehead. Brown glasses framed her blue eyes, and she wore a knee-length floral dress with a pink sweater. She appeared to be in her early thirties.


     “Hello?” she asked, looking at Elliot questioningly. His face turned bright red. Elliot quickly climbed down from his desk, and gave her a shy smile.


     “Can I help you?” she asked slowly, gazing around the room.


     “Um, I was just checking for bats, Diana,” Elliot said quietly. She raised her eyebrows. The beetle decided to make its entry once again, and scurried across the floor.


     “Oh my! Kill it, Elliot! Get him!” she shrieked. He straightened up, and courageously jumped on the beetle, squashing it. Elliot raised his foot slowly, and peeked underneath. His eyes quickly snapped shut and his face turned green.


     “That was wonderful, Elliot!” she said as she lightly applauded him.


     “I’ll get that now, shall I?” she added as she pulled a tissue out of her purse to clean up the mess. Elliot grinned at her.


     “I hope you get your bat problem figured out soon,” she said as she knelt down.


     “Bat problem?” he asked softly. She turned and looked at him.


     “You were trying to spot some bats as I came in a little while ago,” she said.


     “Oh yes, that bat problem. I’ll get it figured out,” he said, turning red again.


     “Anyways, I came to ask you for any extra book tape.”


     Diana worked at the city library, and she came every once in a while to Elliot’s bookstore to ask for supplies.  


     “I have some here,” he said quietly as he pulled some out of his neatly organized desk drawer.


     “Thank you, Elliot. Things sure look nice around here!” she complimented.


     “Thanks,” he said in almost a whisper. She took the tape from him.


     “Maybe we should go for coffee sometime?” she asked as she headed for the door. Elliot smiled.


     “I would like that,” he said.


     “See you tomorrow at two o’clock?” she added. Elliot nodded, grinning. As the bell tinkled when she left, Elliot walked proudly back to his desk where a spider was scuttling across. Elliot hit it without a second thought.