M6: Botswana!

     I alighted on the Gaborone airstrip, and a perky flight attendant announced our arrival. I didn't get how anyone could be perky after a 16 hour plane ride. Because I was going to modern Botswana, I had to deal with commercial travel. When I left the airport, I was blinded by the bright sun glinting of the sparse skyscrapers. Gaborone was the capital of Botswana, but with only 191,776 people, it paled in the face of New York. I stopped for a lunch of pounded meat (a popular dish in Botswana) and took a cab 200 miles to the central Kalahari Game Reserve.
     After 3 hours of dealing with a hostile cab driver, I had finally arrived at the game reserve. The reserve is the second largest in the world, covering about 32,808 square miles. Tall, sun-bleached grass swayed in the mellow wind below a never ending expanse of blue sky. Last year I had gotten my safari license, so I rented a jeep and set out by myself. Giraffes, cheetahs, leopards, hyenas, and warthog are just a sample of the abundant wildlife that calls the Central Kalahari Game Reserve home. What I really wanted to see, however, was a lion. As I drove along a dirt road, I heard a loud snarl emit from under my vehicle.
     After braking quickly, I peered at the ground below me. A lion cub batted my face with a soft paw. For a moment, I was entranced. The cubs tan fur stuck out at odd angles, and his big brown eyes seemed to melt my soul. After ooohing and awwing over how cute the cub was, I started to wonder what he was doing here. The circumstance bewildered me, until I noticed a large scratch in his side. I realized that the cub must have been abandoned after his mother noticed that he was losing blood rapidly. As a reflex, I started to grab him. He let out a low, malignant growl. Deciding that I couldn't pick him up safely, I climbed back in the car to get help.
     I turned the key, but nothing happened. The jeep sputtered before dying all the way. Ducking beneath the car again, I cautiously approached the injured cub. In one fluid motion, I threw him into the passenger seat. I wrapped him in my jacket while he was still stunned by the throw. Shoving him in my pack, I started to walk back the way I came. The hot sun produced a line of sweat along my brow. Growing exhausted, I almost gave up. Just then, a mournful whine came from my pack, reminding me why I needed to keep going.
     Finally, just as the horizon was erupting is a golden sunset, I saw the Game Reserve Headquarters. Inspired by the dropping temperature, I sprinted the last mile of my taxing journey. After explaining what had happened to a flustered secretary, the cub was taken by some veterinarians. The head vet explained that the cub would've been a goner if I hadn't rescued him. As I was leaving, the cub let out a bittersweet purr and waved his paw, as if saying goodbye. I knew then that some things were worth sacrificing for.

M5: The Crusades

     Sitting on a wagon among a sea of carts, we were funneled into the holy city of Jerusalem. My driver, Jacob, turned left onto a different road. We followed the stream of traffic toward the West Wall. Jacob was my Jewish friend that had volunteered to show me the remains of the Jewish Temple. The Jewish temple had been destroyed by the Romans. The Western Wall was all that was left. Jerusalem was a holy city for Muslims, Jews, and Christians. Finally our wagon pulled off to the side and we got out. Just then, soldiers streamed over the walls that protected Jerusalem.
     "Jerusalem belongs to the Christians" a knight no older then 13 screamed as he vaulted over the wall. Quickly, I realized that these people were malignant Christian crusaders that believed Jerusalem should just be for Christians. They were trying to take the holy land! In an instant, we were swept up in a wave of horror. Soldiers stabbed Jews, releasing heart wrenching cries. Crusaders spit on the Western Wall and stomped on holy books. A large, hairy man came towards us with a look of hate on his face.
     He grabbed Jacob and hoisted him up by the throat. Suddenly, I snapped out of my trance. I jammed the mans nose into his skull, just as my self-defense coach had taught me. He dropped my friend and sneered at me. I dished out three swift upper cuts to his jaw, and he fell with a thud. Turning to the disheartened Jews, I gave an angry cry. "Are you going to sit here and let these Christians trample on your faith?" I yelled. "All three faiths of the book should have an equal claim to Jerusalem." Men and women stood and brushed themselves off with fiery determination. They grabbed broken boards and bricks from the street, making weapons out of junk.
     The make-shift army started down the road, where crusaders had started a bonfire with copies of the Torah and Qur'an. I joined them. Even though I'm an atheist, I still believe in religious equality. We stopped a group of crusaders in their tracks. " Jerusalem should be shared." Jacob said. "Stop destroying symbols of our faith. We are very similar." With loud battle cries, we rushed towards the fight. Blood was being shed by Jews and Christians alike. Sadly, I shook my head and zapped back to my New York Condo.
     To late, I had realized that the right way to settle religious arguments did not include dead bodies. Wars between faiths had been going on for centuries, but it didn't have to be this way. Instead of suiting my friends up for a fruitless battle, I should have organized a peaceful negotiation. I did understand, however, that beliefs were worth fighting for. I just wished we could all get along. Confused, I went to bed, leaving the heavy thinking to the scholars.

M4: Sandstorm!

     A leash clenched in my left hand, I led a peevish camel through the harsh desert. Behind me, Bedouins wrapped in long scarves trudged along the well worn trade road. All together, we made up a caravan of dehydrated travelers and tired livestock. After arriving in an oases on the Arabian Peninsula, I had joined forces with the nomads. So far, it had just gotten me a face full of camel spit.
     The flat, sandy, plain of the desert stretched out in all directions. I was getting really tired of the same old scenery. The air was over 120 degrees and bone dry. Suddenly, a hot wind blew in my face. The subtle difference almost knocked me over. The breeze culminated into a roar, and a giant wave of sand loomed in the distance. "Sandstorm!" a Bedouin yelled over the din.
     My companions immediately hunkered down behind their camels. I thought it was awful to use an animal as a shield, but camels are the boats of the desert. They are built to block sand. I pressed my self against George (my camel), who had already sat down. I buried my face in my scarf. The minute I had got into position, the storm caught up with us. Even though I was covered, the grit worked it's way into my mouth, ears, and nose. Huddled for dear life, I tried to keep breathing.
     After about five minutes of 0 visibility, the wind died down to a low moan. I could see the sky! I surveyed the rest of the traders. We had all shifted backwards 10 feet. Standing up shakily, I shook about 20 pounds of sand from my clothes. Assembling back into caravan formation, everyone carried on as if nothing had happened. I was very confused. Didn't people die in sandstorms? Why were they all so indifferent? I asked a kind man named Muhammad. "That little thing? That was just a breeze." he replied with a laugh.
     I had the caravan drop me off at the closest town. Even though Muhammad had assured me that we had been in no danger, I was still kind of freaked out. I rushed to my Porshe and zoomed off. I really didn't want to face another wall of dirt. If I did ever encounter another sandstorm though, I knew to locate the nearest camel. In an instant, I was greeted by New York. I noticed an identical face peering through the crowd. Linking arms with Glimmer, I walked away from the barren Arabian Peninsula.

M3: I'm an Actress!

     As soon as I arrived in medieval Europe, I noticed the troop of actors meandering along the dirt road. One held up a sign saying "Actors Wanted". Interested, I approached the group of unique individuals. "Hello." I said to a fat bald man in a robe.
"Are you, by any chance, an actress?" He asked hopefully. I decided to take a chance.
"Uhhhh, not exactly," I started, "but I was a tree in our fifth grade production of A Midsummer Nights Dream." He looked quite puzzled, but he must have realized that a crazy actress was better than no actress, because he handed me a paper full of scribbled text. I accepted the script and followed the group along.
     After seeing that I was at least literate enough read a my lines, the actors had promptly given me a lead role in their mystery play. A mystery play, in case you didn't know, is a play about a story from the Bible. This particular play was about the story of Noah's Ark. The leader of the troop had explained to me  that there were many theatre groups, and so one needed to be unexpected to gain notice.That was why, instead of the men playing the male and female roles, they wanted a women to play the main male role. Noah. I was not very thrilled, because just the mention of an audience had me sweating through my tunic.
    The next two weeks were full of rehearsing, rehearsing, and more rehearsing. The play was an hour long, and we were going to perform it at a merchants festival in a nearby village. I had 123 lines, and so far I had memorized 23. Basically, in the play, Noah hears god telling him to build a boat with two of every animal to save all the species from a big flood. I was sure some other stuff happened, but I had only read that far into the script. The director was acting really peevish, because we had only successfully ran through the first scene. We were so busy that I almost forgot to be nervous about the actual play. Once and a while though, I remembered the thousands of people that were going to see me make a fool out of everyone. Even though I was terrified, I stuck it out, and eventually, opening night came.
     It was one hour until curtain, and the butterflies in my stomach had turned into a herd of elephants. After I paced backstage and chugged 2 gallons of water, the play started. There was an introduction, and then finally my cue. A few uncomfortable seconds passed, until someone used a cane as a goad. I said my lines without a hitch. In fact, everything ran smoothly. Well, except for someones robe slipping, but that wasn't my fault. At the end of the performance, I took a final bow while loud cheers assaulted my ears, then I removed my beard. The crowd was completely silent, and I was quickly pulled out of the limelight.
     No one seemed to like our controversial casting, but at least they had liked me when they thought I was a man.The rest of the night was a blur of congratulations from fellow actors. It seemed that I hadn't crashed or burned. Although I only got payed about enough to buy a subway pass, I had faced my fear, and that was what mattered. The theatre troop had also asked me to continue on with them. Considering I had to get back to college, that wasn't an option. It was good to know I had a career to fall back on though.

M2: Bubonic Plague!

   Lazily, I climbed in my Porsche and zoomed off to medieval Europe. It was Saturday, and I really didn't want to go to work. Rolling through the streets of France, I realized that something had changed. The whole village smelled of death, and the ground was covered in trash.I stepped out of my time traveling device, and was promptly met by a grossed out Glimmer. "What's going on?" I asked.
"Bubonic Plague." she replied glumly.
"Why is it so hot?" I wondered aloud.
Suddenly, I was overcome with nausea. I puked, narrowly missing Glimmer's shoes. She called out to me, but I couldn't make out what she was saying. My body started shaking violently. "I think you've contracted the plague." Glimmer said in a scared voice.
     My mind reeled. People died from Bubonic Plague!Glimmer started babbling medical information while I sat in a daze. I didn't want to die! My terrifying thoughts were interrupted by more harsh vomiting. "Lay down." my sister commanded as she placed a cool towel on my head. She pushed me into a rare clean piece of pavement. I was having trouble focusing, and I couldn't make my muscles stop twitching. The world spun and went black.
     Where was I? Quickly, I remembered  the plague. I tried to make a sound or a movement but I was frozen. A picture flashed past my heavy eyelids. It was me as a baby. Then as a toddler, blowing out 3 birthday candles. I saw myself at 5,7,10,13. I seemed to get increasingly sullen as the years passed. At 18, I woke up later, procrastinated more, and was more lazy. My life was flashing before my eyes, and I couldn't stop it. In that moment, I wished that I could have gone back in time and embraced the early mornings and the hard work. Crying, I just wanted more time. More time to love life.
     Abruptly, I snapped out of my coma. My wish was granted! Glimmer was leaning over me, her eyes glistening. "I thought I'd lost you!" she gargled through her tears. I leaned into her open arms and exhaled. This near death experience had given me a new view on life, and I vowed to seize the day. Glimmer helped me to my car, and I rode away from the streets soaked with the death of a nation. As we arrived back in New York, a question still lingered in my mind. "How did you cure me?" I asked my twin in a puzzled tone.
"Tylenol" she replied with a weak smile.
     Ever since I caught the Bubonic plague, I have approached the world with an interminable vigor. Realizing that each moment is indispensable has helped me fill each day with memories.Even though it was a terrifying 12 hours, getting sick proved to be beneficial in the long-run. I am so much happier now that I understand that life is to important to be taken for granted. I love life!

M1: Medieval Europe

     I alighted from my Porsche and felt the densely packed earth of medieval Europe under my feet. All around me, people hurtled about the French marketplace. Garments of rough linen brushed past me. I heard the loud, harsh cries of hard-working people peddling their wares. The moist aroma of freshly pulled root vegetables wafted throughout the square. The market was situated in a crowded street lined with tall, narrow houses. A sign with a faded picture advertising fresh bread perched on one. I pushed open the splintery wooden door below it and was greeted by warm, humid air and a cloud of flour.
     After climbing up a steep path, I saw my first glimpse of a Medieval cathedral.The spires of the great church dripped upwards into the vibrant blue sky. Cold stares of stone gargoyles bore into my head and made me shiver. As I walked inside, I was illuminated by the warm, brightly colored sunlight streaming in from the stained glass windows. The priest murmured in a low voice to the throngs of reverent merchants and peasants. Not wanting to disturb the mass, I slipped back outside, unnoticed.
     I walked on a worn path that winded through the kingdom. On my left, some knights were engaged in a brutal training battle, and I heard their swords clang. On my right, peasants hoed the fields, sweat glistening on their brows. Ahead of me, the path sloped upwards and led to a large stone manor. The manors size seemed to insinuate that this kingdom was not a force to be reckoned with. The smell of weak broth trickled up from the small cluster of peasant shacks, and I turned on my heels. The prospect of warm food was preferable to foreboding lords.
     The peasant house was cramped and I tried to make my way around sparse furniture in the dark. Harsh smoke got in my eyes and I coughed violently. A large pot of broth boiled on a roaring fire. I handed a small child a coin I had found, warm from my pocket. In return, she handed me a rough ceramic bowl of soup. The soup was watery, but having something hot to drink comforted me. After a bit, I became claustrophobic from the closed in room, and the smoke made me itchy, so I left the hut. A cool wind greeted me outside.
     As I walked, I came upon a large creek. I dove in, and was shocked by the cold. Farther along the river, I saw several people. A young girl bounced a wailing baby on her hip while doing laundry, and a man tried unsuccessfully to catch fish. The glittering moon reflected in the rushing water, and I realized how dark it was. Although I slipped on some mossy rocks, I eventually succeeded in pulling myself out of the river. I found a moon speckled clearing in a small wood. Pulling a pile of crinkly dead grass around me, I fell asleep under tall oak trees whose leaves rustled in the wind.

Rue Lawrence

                There is an old cliché “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.” The story of fashion designer extraordinaire Rue Lawrence proves that this is true. With perseverance, you can achieve your goals.

            Rue Lawrence really wanted to go to a college of design, but she couldn’t afford to pay the tuition. She knew that fashion design was her future. Rue worked at the GAP every day, trying to save her money. Still, she made just enough to live off, and ate Ramen every night. Rue couldn’t pay for school, so she had to try plan B.

            Because Rue didn’t want to give up her dream, she sent her portfolio to 12 design schools with scholarship programs. It was very important to her to go to college. Rue carried her sketch book with her everywhere, and she spent all her free time working on her résumé. As she waited for an answer to come in the mail, Rue wished she could have a foretaste of what was to come.

            Rue got a full tuition scholarship to Parson’s School of Design. The Dean sent her a handwritten letter of approval that smelled like promise. She was one of four people to get this prestigious honor. Rue couldn’t wait to start. She thought she would never make it to design college, but Rue worked interminably and accomplished the impossible.

            As this paper shows, with perseverance you can reach your goals. The story of Rue Lawrence proves that if you don’t give up, anything is possible!