Les Chocolatemongers de 4th Period

Note: This exercise was inspired by this article in the New York Times' Dining and Wine Section.

York Peppermint Patties- Patrick Oh Brien

There’s a man with dark skin and a sharp jawline and he turns to you and asks in an accent as thick as his hair, “Would you like a kitten?” You’re sure that, had there been ‘r’s in the sentence, he would have rolled them right off a high cliff and into a ditch full of fresh, clean cotton and a crisp, sunshiney breeze. His voice washes over you in waves of ambience, filling up the hollow spaces of your soul with new snow and Beethoven.

"I Remember" by Katniss

I remember the first time someone left; my dad departed our home in Mexico to America, but not before he promised that everything was going to be ok. In the years that he was gone I felt like it was my fault he left. My sorrow turned to anger and I thought, "who would do that to someone?" I remember seeing my dad after three years and running into his open arms; it was the first time I ever saw my dad cry. Later, I had trouble letting the neighborhood dog leave my house; he was a stray and when my mom discovered him hidden in our barn she sent him away.  After that I only saw him once in awhile, then not at all; I wasn’t surprised because he didn’t stay in the same place for too long. I remember when my grandpa left on a road trip and never came back; he had pulled over on his way home to rest and at the same time was hit by a drunk driver. My mom never drank; I remember her lecturing my sister and me for countless hours that alcohol was a crime in itself. Eventually, I made a promise that I wouldn’t leave anyone because letting them feel abandoned was something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemies. However, I was not able to keep my promise. I remember having to constantly move from place to place, never staying long enough to learn my classmates' last names. My framed photographs would stay in their boxes because we did not stay long enough to call a house a home, so it never felt right to put them up. I remember my elementary school friends and our naïve conversations; we made up our own language thinking we were so slick. We made up games that had no rules and made no sense. Sooner or later I knew I would lose them and I did, but I learned that every end has a new beginning. In my new school and all that followed I made new friends, but I couldn’t help missing my old ones.  I remember hearing that you never really lose something because it stays with you. Still, I feel like it’s not the same compared to being physically with you.

"Memoir Chicken" by Katniss

At the age of four most kids feel as if they can do anything and everything. Living on a farm, comes with a load of work, for the adults. I wanted to do the chores they did, but whenever I attempted to, someone would stop me and tell me that I was too young and incapable. It was early in the morning; the sun had not come out. I snuck out of my bedroom and crept toward the chicken coop. The darkness was my cloak and the moonlight was my enemy. It followed me everywhere trying to expose me to the world. The walk seemed endless and I expected at any moment for someone to catch me and some part of me wanted to get caught.

The sun began to peak out of the horizon. I could no longer hide, the light was surrounding me. But it didn’t matter anymore. I had reached my destination. I was thinking that my parents would be so proud of me, because I could do the same chores they did. As I opened the door, I had second thoughts. Peering into the coop I noticed the chickens were all asleep. Thinking it was going to be easy, I took the bag of seeds and filled their bowls. Turning around, I slipped, spilling their food all over the place and landing on top of a pile of eggs. Suddenly one by one they woke up, all of them staring right at me. I got up slowly, backing away. I knew it was too late; it seemed as they knew what I had done. Adrenaline took over my body and I started to sprint toward the door. When I pushed the door open, the sunlight blinded me. I acted like a deer caught in headlights, nowhere to run and not knowing what to do. In a moment of panic, I got the idea of running onto the roof. At that time it was a good plan, believing that chickens were scared of heights; because they were chickens. I reached the staircase. Stumbling, tripping and falling on my way up, finally I was at the top. But they were determined. And my fear of the chickens turned into stupidity. I looked over the edge of the roof, it was not that high up, (for a grownup) but for me it was a nightmare come true. Being more afraid of the chickens than the heights, I closed my eyes and jumped. I remember the breeze that I felt; it relieved me of my sweaty forehead. I blanked out but not before a heard a crack. When I woke up, familiar faces were surrounding me. They were close enough to me that I could smell their breath when they spoke. I began to hear so many questions directed at me but I could not answer; my head was throbbing. I knew nothing at all at that moment; I was never told how long I was out.

I later found out from my family that they returned the chicken back to the coop and cleaned up the mess I made. I was not in trouble for my actions because I had already suffered the consequences. At first I had no idea what my punishment was, until my doctor told me that I broke my head. He predicted that for a month my sensory processing would be off.  Meaning that whatever I tasted or saw would be different from everyone else’s and their perception of something would be right. But he explained it as a bruised brain. I was also informed that I was lucky to not have fractured any more bones.  Being four years old, I thought that meant I had super powers. I was sent home a week later with medicine that tasted like chocolate. 

Everyone had told me that I would never be the same again, but I didn’t care one bit. I was now the only one in my family with a metal plate.  I don’t remember why, but I felt pride for what I accomplished. Maybe, it was because I had done something no one else in their right in would do, or maybe it was because from that moment on I was known to be fearless. In the end I never told my family why I was running from the chickens in the first place and I kept it that way. But never again did I step into the chicken coop, ever.