Celebrities...

I shall begin my tirade about why celebrities think they’re so special and why they always get special treatment.

Why is it that celebrities think they are better than everyone else and why is it that they always get special treatment when all they have done, is smiled for the camera a tell us their sob stories? By what you have seen on television, you would think they have an affable manner, but when there is no camera to smile for, they might seem irascible. Of course, everyone has something amiss about themselves, but what really bothers me is that some celebrities think they are perfect because they are rich or they just think they are the best.

Celebrities never have to entreat their parents for a designer handbag or Louis Vuitton shoes. They never have an interminable wait for a table at a restaurant. The only thing that haunts their mind, is what embarrassing comment they said at an awards ceremony. If there is anything that causes them to feel despondent, it’s if they didn’t win “Best Actress or Actor of The Year Award”. And they obviously don’t live a reclusive life with all the fans and paparazzi follwing them everywhere(I admit, that does sound really annoying).

Fans often think of people who are famous as their sage, but people aren’t always who they seem to be. I’m not saying that all celebrities are like this, but the ones that are, are the ones I abhor.

Friendly Letter

September 8, 2010 123 Red Lane
Tallahassee, Florida
Dear Ally,

You are probably wondering who is writing this letter to you. I have decided to make this an anonymous letter; however, I’ll give you hints to who I am.

I was born in your generation. I helped you modify your anthology of stories in sixth grade, as you helped me with mine. I have been your best friend since pre-school.

Have you made a conjecture yet? If you haven’t, I’ll give you one more hint. My initials are V.S.

Your bffl,

V.S.

The Story of my Murder

I shall endeavor in telling you about my gruesome death (which is one you wouldn’t want to simulate) that occurred on May 20, 1814.

It was night, dark, cold, peaceful, and quiet. The only sound to be heard is the calming sound of the wind passing through trees. I was clad in blankets, lying in my bed, half-asleep. I had a feeling, a feeling the something was wrong; that something, or someone, was lurking in the darkness of my house, although my eyes failed to see what or who it may be.

I eventually succumbed into the tugging feeling and gingerly sat up in my bed; my eyes wide open, fully alert, the tugging feeling, still tugging, but no sounds were heard. I surmised that it was just my imagination and reluctantly tried to go back to sleep, but I never got the chance…

As soon as my head hit the soft pillow, a piercing bright light was shown and someone sprang out of the darkness and wrestled me to the ground, turning my own bed over, onto me; this must be the work of a mad man. I had abrasions on my arms, legs and face from fighting. The idea that I was going to die was corroborated by the lack of oxygen I was receiving. I grimaced with each second gone by. My suffocation was done in a cursory manner and my life flashed before my eyes and it was quickly, over….

Next thing I knew, I was being deposited carefully underneath the floorboards in my own house. After that, I never heard the sound of the wind passing through the trees ever again.

Of course, the story of my murder must electrify you, but it is unfortunately true.