WA-5 Draft 2

This is the best time of my life. I think. I just married a wonderful man, who will be able to provide for me the rest of my life. Soon we will have children, and there will be plenty for me to do around the house. So why do I feel so…anxious I guess is the right word? I feel like something bad is about to happen, and I can’t stop it. Well, I guess all I can do is keep dancing. He really is handsome that Giuseppe Carbanara. I am definitely a lucky girl.
It’s time to cut the cake! Wow, that’s a chunk. I can’t eat all that papa! Oh alright, it is my wedding after all. Well, I’m glad everyone is having a good time. They all look so cheerful. Laughing and talking and carrying on. That’s a great feeling to have on your wedding day. My papa hired a real Italian string quartet to play. They are very nice, and know lots of songs!
I see a man dressed in a tuxedo coming in from the gate. I don’t believe I’ve every seen him before. He seems slightly awkward. OH MY! He just reached down his pants! Well I never…I’ll just go back to dancing. I hope the guards outside aren’t letting just anybody in! Now he is looking in the direction of my father dancing on the other side of the floor. That’s a weird look. Somewhere between disgust and being sick. Well, as long as he doesn’t disrupt the party, he is my friend. WAIT…what is that thing glinting in his belt?
I leaned into Giuseppe and told him I had to attend to some business, and then I left him on the dance floor after the song ended. I took a secret staircase up to my father’s study. He was sitting in his tall black armchair behind his desk when I opened the door, but as soon as he saw me, he stood up and opened his arms.
“Carlina, my flower,” he said slowly, “why have you come to my private room on your wedding day? You should be outside dancing and enjoying the sun and laughter.”
“Father,” I replied, “I saw a man on the lawn, alone. His face was twisted in emotion, and his belt glinted in the sun for a second. I think he plans to kill you!”
“Do not worry my child,” he said in a convincing tone.
Just at that second, I soft clicking sound came from behind the door.
“Quick, get to one side of the door!”
I slid an umbrella out of its stand, and held it like a baseball bat, the heavy handle swinging slowly above my head. The door slowly opened, and a gun poked through. Then a shoulder, and finally a head. I struck swiftly and accurately. He never saw anything. A trickle of blood ran down his forehead and into his eyebrow. Papa turned around. He had been facing towards the window, watching the day’s proceedings. He nodded, and I pulled the gun out of the mysterious man’s warm hand. With caution I turned the weapon on its owner, and slowly pulled the trigger. The explosion knocked me down, but my father helped me back up.
“What’s done is done, my flower.” With that, he took my arm and we walked out of that dusty place, down the stairs, and back out into the sunshine of the happiest day of my life.

WA-5 Draft 1

The Rotini family Capo just said to get it over with. He picked me, his third son, to do the job. I awoke early in the morning to get myself organized: 1 .45 caliber pistol, 1 map of New York City, 1 body bag, and a change of clothes. The Capo said I should get rid of the body as soon as possible, but take extra care that he was dead. He did not want a repeat of last time. I rode an automobile (with two body guards) out of Yonkers, down route 87, towards Long Island City, just across the river from Manhattan. My older brother Gregorio, who was working intel on this assignment, said the “Great-Grandfather” of the Conolé family would be at his family’s house at 11 a.m.. I ran through my responsibilities once again in my mind:
· Kill the “Great-Grandfather”
· Escape with the body and dispose of it
· Plant clues leading to the Sicilians

As I approached the Conolé residence I noticed a sea of colorful streamers strung across all the trees, painting the grey city sky green, white and red. I could hear faint music drifting lazily from the grounds. I pulled up across the street from the entrance to the safe house. My heart stopped when I recognized the raucous bursts of laughter and delicate tinkling of champagne glasses of a wedding reception. Gregorio hadn’t said anything about a wedding! I needed a minute to stop hyperventilating and get my focus back. What did the Capo always say? “If you are in a bad situation, do not panic. Focus on the goal, and find a way to achieve, by any means necessary. You know what you have to do.” I kept repeating that to myself as I stepped out of the car. Luckily, my change of clothes happened to be a tuxedo, so I didn’t stand out at the party.
Getting past security would be the hardest part. I held my breath as the guards patted me down; all the while giving me the ‘I know you’re hiding something face.” I was indeed, but they did not check the groin area so I was safe there. The reception was in full force when I arrived and I took a glass of expensive Italian champagne from a waiter. Just to calm my nerves you understand. I could see a beautiful lady dancing with a well dressed man on the raised dance floor. I assumed that was the famous Carlina Conolé and her new husband. Despite the alcohol, I anxiously began to sweat when I saw my intended target dancing with his wife, the Viscontessa Conolé. The string quartet finished playing, and the “Great-Grandfather” bowed to his wife and swiftly strode into the house. I ambled around for some time, nervously eyeing people with wide smiles upon their faces.
I made my way across the garden towards the entrance to the house. I stepped into the front hall, and asked a man waiting by the staircase if I could possibly see the Master of the family. He replied, “No one is to see the Great-Grandfather on his daughter’s wedding day.”
I said, “Well, you might want to go see if the two men at the gate are alright. One of them said he didn’t feel so well, and that he might have to throw up.”
The staircase guard gave me a weird look, and then asked me, “Which one was it?”
I said softly, “The big one. He didn’t look to good when I came in.”
With that the guard took off in the direction of the gate, not wanting to anger his father by only having one person guarding the gate. I slowly walked upstairs, pulling the pistol out of my pants, and replacing it for better reaction time at my belt. When I got to the Conolé Capo’s room I took a deep breath, and slowly turned the handle. This was it, I told myself. My moment of glory. The last thing I saw was the back of the “Great-Grandfather”. Ironically, the man who killed me, was provided with the means of an uneventful murder by myself.

WA-4 Draft 2

Dear Mr. Obama,

I write this on the eve of your inauguration, with high hopes for the future. I do not want to speak badly of President Bush, but lately he hasn’t been to focused on his responsibilities. I hope that your administration will do a better job of solving the problems of the American people, and raise our country’s global status to the level that it held before the previous servant of the state took office.

I have two main issues I would like to discuss. The first, and probably more important at this point, is the economical situation. I know that billion dollar bail out plans have already been tried to kick start the economy, but I really don’t think that it’s going to work. The banks, being the greedy little enterprises they are, will always try to better themselves first, before they use the money they were given to help their customers. I really am at a loss as to why we are in an economic decline. People have not changed their spending habits at all. I go to the local mall and see the parking lot bursting with cars. People still buy ipods, and computers, and other unnecessary items. Maybe, if we leave well enough alone, we’ll come out of the depression on our own because of all the stuff we’re buying. Nothing is more simple than having the victims do the rescuing. But by then people will be so immersed in credit card debt that they can never rescue themselves. Then, if by some miraculous process they manange to free themselves of the credit card company's demands, they are still in an economic depression, and this time we do not have the option of war to get us out.

I think that your second priority (but not by much) is to get our soldiers out of Iraq. I enjoyed your speeches about the evacuation plan. I think that you set reachable goals, but that it may take a bit of doing to complete them. Trying to salvage a nation’s reputation, economy, and people at one time can hardly be a small job. But Iraq should be on the top of your list because we had no business in there in the first place. Yes we need oil, but there should have been a way after Afghanistan to do it peacefully. I think, the soldiers in there have lost all sense of what they are fighting for; because there was no reason to go into Iraq. They are fighting in a civil war that needs to be decided by the natives. That’s the point of a civil war. We have the people that attacked us, now we need to stop the killing. Let what happens, happen. This is how history is made. We have set up a semi-stable government, let it try to do what it can. If it does not work, then we will worry about that later, when more urgent problems arise, and we are better supported by the U.N., and other nations. Mr. Obama, as I sit here today, I know that a better future awaits. I know that you will do all you can to get us back on track. And I know that no one can stop you, the 44th President of the United States of America!

Sincerely, with hope and admiration,






Ben Mattern

WA-4 Draft 1

Dear Mr. Obama,

I write this on the eve of your inauguration, with high hopes for the future. I do not wish to rag on President Bush, but he has not seemed to be overly preoccupied with the problems of the American people, as of late. I hope that your administration will raise our country’s global status to the level that it held before the previous servant of the state took office.

I have two main issues I would like to discuss. The first, and probably more important at this point, is the economical situation. I know that billion dollar bail out plans have already been tried to kick start the economy, but I really don’t think that it’s going to work. The banks, being the greedy little enterprises they are, will always try to better themselves first, before they use the money they were given to help their customers. I really am at a loss as to why we are in an economic decline. People have not changed their spending habits at all. I go to the local mall and see the parking lot bursting with cars. I can’t imagine that all those people are out window shopping, can you? People still buy ipods, and computers, and other unnecessary items. Maybe, if we leave well enough alone, we’ll come out of the depression on our own because of all the stuff we’re buying. Nothing is more simple than having the victims do the rescuing. But the problem is that unlike the Great Depression, we do not have the option of war to get us out.

I think that your second priority (but not by much) is to get our soldiers out of Iraq. I enjoyed your speeches about the evacuation plan. I think that you set reachable goals, but that it may take a bit of doing to complete them. Trying to salvage a nation’s reputation, economy, and people at one time can hardly be a small job. But Iraq should be on the top of your list because we had no business in there in the first place. Yes we need oil, but not that way. The soldiers in there I think have lost all sense of what they are fighting for; because there was no reason to go into Iraq. They are fighting in a civil war that needs to be decided by the natives. That is what a civil war is. We have the people that attacked us, now we need to stop the killing. Let what happens, happen. This is how history is made. We have set up a semi-stable government, let it try to do what it can. If it does not work, then we will worry about that later, when more urgent problems arise, and we are better supported by the U.N..

Mr. Obama, as I sit here today, I know that a better future awaits. I know that you will do all you can to get us back on track. And I know that no one can stop a man from Chicago, with dreams of a better world!


Sincerely,




Ben Mattern

WA-3 Draft 2

Dear Mr. Pullman,

I have read your books, the His Dark Materials Trilogy. They have inspired me greatly; in many aspects of my life. I remember that my family loves me no matter who I am, or what I do. I remember that friends are always important, and they are the ones that get you through the adventures in your life. I remember that love can come from somewhere you never expected, even through a different world in the stars. I also remember, that you should not deal with your soul lightly, for it is the only thing connecting you to happiness. It was your books that taught me these lessons becuase I read them at a very young age. They taught me some lessons that I would need in my life, and some that I would need if I had an armored bear as a friend, or my parents were sworn enemies but still loved each other greatly. I know that romance is not just found in the great wide world, but also in a small garden park. I learned that a story can have the same effect on the reader, as if the reader was the one experiencing the event. You taught me all these things, and I will never feel the same again becuase of them.

Thank You so much,

Ben Mattern

P.S. You could have made the end a bit more comforting, instead of breaking her heart.

WA-3 Draft 1

Dear Mr. Pullman,

I have read your books, the His Dark Materials Trilogy. They have inspired me greatly; if not in writing, but in other things in my life. I remember that my family loves me no matter who I am, or what I do. I remember that friends are always important, and they are the ones that get you through the adventures in your life. I remember that love can come from somewhere you never expected, even through a different world in the stars. I also remember that you should not deal with your soul lightly, for it is the only thing connecting you to happiness. It was your books that taught me these lessons becuase I read them at a very young age. They taught me some lessons that I would need in my life, and some that I would need if I had an armored bear as a friend, or my parents were sworn enemies but still loved each other greatly. I know that romance is not just found in the great wide world, but also in a small garden park. I learned that a story can have as much effect on the reader, then as if the reader was the one experiencing the event. You taught me all these things, and I will never feel the same again becuase of them.

Thank You so much,

Ben Mattern

P.S. You could have made the end a bit more comforting, instead of breaking her heart.

WA-2 Draft 3

Carl killed him. Not kindly, not quickly, just killed him. The pools of blood slowly sunk into the ground, and a pink mist lay still in the air. The red water dropped like a fish net in the lake. A wall, an insurmountable barrier with memories of death swirling in the suddenly still water. The elder fish knew Carl. They knew his cruelty, his stubborness. The younger fish knew of him. They knew what had been told, the stories, the long kept secrets. They feared him, but they did not understand him. The elders knew what had shaped Carl. His shell covered his spiked haunches and back, like a newly ordained monk. It held unspeakable things. Horrors so ancient that many of the legends had warped the old minds of the hosts. He now was sitting in a small pool of his victim's blood; admiring its feel, like thick, scarlet, butter that had been heated just enough to melt. Small rain droplets began to patter loudly around the lilly pads on the lake, diluting Carl's little pool. In frustration, he beat the ground with his small paws, causing little pockets of water to hydroplane outwards. His actions were those of a small child's as his playground of death became obscured from the dying sun's rays. Suddenly, he summoned with a nod a small frog who had been staring intently, to come forward. Amidst cries of woe from his community, the little one shuffled across the grass to the infernal being in front of him. "Come, little one. Do not be frightened." whispered Carl loudly, over the rain. "I am not afraid of you, oh tyrant. For if I was, then I should be quaking from tongue, to tail." answered the tiny amphibian. "Hah Hah Hah," laughed Carl. "You are brave for your size. Let us see if you can sing as well as you can speak." The small one looked terrorized, but Carl didn't notice. He was preparing to sing. Carl started off on a folk song from the place that he was born. After a while, he stopped singing, and focused on the little frog. "Now you try. "I...I can't." The little frog looked into Carl's fiery eyes and saw himself. He saw what was, what is, and what could have been had fate not taken his life. He fell to the blood stained grass before anyone knew that he was dead. And so it had been for years and years. A Time so long that many of the elder fish had forgotten what life was like before Carl became their deadly dictator. A soft sigh of grief escaped the animals that had assembled to hear Carl sing. The fish in the lake swam sadly back to their solitary lives. The rest of the frogs looked away as Carl devoured his prey. Stories would be told. This day would be remembered. But many would soon forget. The tales would warp old fish’s minds. Insanity would be nailed over a more sensible floor. But someone, somewhere, would retain a fragment, a small strand of hope, of reason, that would lead them away. Away from their home, and their life of misery. Away from the blood lust that killed their friends, their family, and their sanity. Where is this place? Where none kill each other? It is easy to find. But you must kill Carl, the Scarlet Butter frog with your bare hands. He must die. A poisoned mouse, or a beheaded chicken. It is FATE's path, but in your hands.