It was the year 2015. The school year was halfway over and the eighth graders were so happy to be leaving this place. I was offered a class, a ceramics class. Of course I selected it because I love art, I always have and always will. And there was also the fact that I would get out of one of my other classes, I would not have to do public speaking or extra scient experiment or any of the boring crap.

We started out with a clay cup. Simple, I thought. But, noooooo. We had to make the cup out of coils. Somehow I made it through to the finish and produced a nicely crooked and quite imperfect cup. I was ok with its turnout because it was my first actually 3D object, sculpture, that I have made. I also learned that clay is not my thing. It is gross, wet, slimy, grey, urgh.

The second project was a teapot. I thought it could not get any worse. Sure let’s try to make a teapot out of clay!!! Mine looks like a bumpy, uneven vase with a handle and weird spout that sticks out. Honestly, the spouts everyone are making look like something else. The only people who were making decent products were the teacher, Mr. Keefe and my friend who sat next to me. I hate it when the teacher is teaching you something that is hard and they go off and do it with ease. Some people can be just showoffs, and this teacher tends to get on my nerves.

The third project was how it started, or more like how it was born. We were making masks. The teacher gave us plastic faces, the type that you can build around then remove. He told us to wrap plastic around them so the clay would not stick. As we created our masks my clay started to feel weird. I could not tell why or how, it just did. I handed a bunch over to my friend and asked her if it felt weird. She took it and rolled it into a coil. Looking at me funny she said it was fine and asked if I was feeling ok. I laughed and said it just felt different, but it is probably my imagination.

After a couple class periods the masks started taking shape. No longer did we need the plastic. Now we were just altering the mask to whatever shape or design we wanted it to be before it went into the kiln. I barely altered mine. I just increased the contrast between high spots, like the cheekbones, and low spots, like the eye sockets.

It was the last day before the mask were to be placed in the kiln. I was peacefully and carefully working. It was about 9:43 am. I turned to comment about my friend’s mask and how perfect it was, when I noticed a flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye. My head whipped around. My mask was as still as ever. Taking a deep breath I closed my eyes for a second. Mr. Keefe apologised for scaring me and I spoke quickly forgiving him.

Only a couple minutes later, I was staring at my mask. This time I was sure I saw it throb. By this time I was afraid I was hallucinating. I asked my friend if she could watch my mask and see if there was something wrong with it. I told her I thought I was hallucinating and I wanted her reassurance. Being a good friend she agreed. We watched it for 10 minutes. There was no motion.

Soon it was time to clean up. I asked my friend to put my mask with the others while I cleaned the table. She took mine and hers in her hands and walked away. Breathing slowly and calmly I cleaned off the table and wiped it down with a wet rag.

A screech broke out followed by a thud. I turned to see my friend shaking standed near what seemed to be two piles of clay. Realizing one must and have been her mask and one mine I walked over to her. She started to apologize and I said there was no need. She whispered inaudibly. I asked her what she said. She screamed, “IT MOVED!!!” I had no idea what to say. Everyone was looking towards us.

One of the guys said, “Of course it moved, you dropped it.” He bent down to pick up the piles, succeeding to pick up one. The other he touched then dropped. “Ouch!” By now this area had everyone’s attention. “It burned me!”

“Stop with this silliness,” Mr. Keefe demanded. He walked towards the sad looking clay lump. But before he could reach it the thing rose. It grew and grew. Before I knew it everyone was running, well, except for me. I was glued to the floor, looking up in awe at the sight I saw in front of me. It was growing closer and closer. And closer. And even closer. Soon it was no more than an inch from my face.

I was wrenched back by a force I could not pinpoint. I struggled as I was pulled against a strong body. “You’re going to get yourself killed?” It was Mr. Keefe. “Why didn’t you run?”

“I couldn’t,” I stated confidently, “Why didn’t you run?”

“Because I am responsible for my students which unconviniently includes you.”

I sighed as he pulled my out of the room locking the door behind me. “What, are you just going to leave that thing in there?”

“Yes, I plan to for now.”

I pushed away his arms and walked over to my friends. We talked for a while while the teacher called whoever he called. The bell rang and we headed off to our next class.

Wait for a sequel...Possibly...

Among the things causing us the most pain, it's a sad, long list of adjectives brutalizing our confidence, esteem, and image of ourselves. If we were better, worth more, if we were better... We wouldn't be left in the darkness of a room someone forgot to pay the electricity on. 

Of all the things causing us pain, the adjectives we use to describe them are uncomfortably fitting. 

Lonely.

Lost.

Unloved.

Broken.

Hurt.

Beaten.

Forgotten. 

What could hurt more than losing your significance? 

People suggest the world would be a better place if more people took a moment to stop, smell the flowers, and watch the stars at night. Finding solace in the expanse of the unfathomable universe can be a grounding thing. And it can also make you realize your insignificance. 

If we're insignificant, we're easy to forget. And if we're easy to forget, what's the point of finding your purpose? What's the point of feeling loved? What's the point of trying to convince yourself you matter? 

A child sits on bus bench. Their face isn't contorted with emotion. Instead, it is more or less blank. They don't know how to put a word to the way they feel. But we do. 

The child sits there, tired from playing on the playground behind the bus bench. The slide was fun, the swings made her giggle. The fun fades, leaving tired in its wake. It's getting darker, colder. Night is coming, bringing shadows the child is afraid of. There's no one to tell the child it's okay. Night will fade to morning. 

She's hungry. She's tired. She's getting scared. There's no one to help her find her way home, find her family, and find safety. And she doesn't understand why she was left there, alone. 

The pain of feeling forgotten will never leave her. And it never quite leaves us, either. Especially when we seldom get answers for why we were left. Lack of certainty breeds a certain proclivity for self doubt. 

Self doubt is everything and we believe what doubt tells us. 

The pain of being forgotten is the gateway to losing ourselves. If someone can forget us, we might as well forget ourselves. 

I see you look at me with lust-filled eyes

While all the while you are bound in ties

I bite my lip and offer a smile

You shudder, knowing you will be here awhile

I am used this

Those subtle glances I never miss

From men and women who pass me by

Their lips conveying desire in a sigh

I know they want me

Because I make them want me

I fly my flag of dominance

Wearing my crown with prominence

I simply adore the way they stare

The longing they unveil without a care

And the hint of fear they try to hide

Fills me with ever so much pride

They know that I will make them scream

Milking them of their delicious cream

They know that I will have my way

At any time of night or day

Yet, they can quell my assault with a whispered word

A word that will bind the wings of this bird

A safety word I will arrange

A simple word, nothing strange

Yes, I know I am a wanted lady

And sometimes I may seem a little shady

But I can promise I am not

I will just make you cum, a lot

Sometimes I do not even try

Yet still I hear their desperate cry

Shouting out salacity

That has risen beyond their capacity

So, you know I am in high demand

And you have come to make your stand

But here you are, on your knees

And I am the one who holds the keys

Oh, how I live for this

To see the effects of my luscious kiss

To watch your eyes light up with hope

As I approach you with my rope

I crave the submission you freely give

As your body becomes my wanton captive

I hunger for you, yearn for you

You arouse me, oh, how it is true

The need I see between your legs

The relief for which it silently begs

Is telling me to make you mine

So together, let us cross the line

Let me show you the profoundest pleasure

Let me fill your cup beyond measure

Let me take you higher

Let me set your body on fire

Because when you burn, so do I

Let me make you the sun of my sky

Let me make you feel alive

With a delectation that will revive

I will take you to the brink

You and I will form a link

I will be the Mistress you need

You will be the feast from which I feed

And when I am through

After you had your debut

You will leave still wanting more

And probably, a little sore

But you will crave me, inevitably

And I will cherish your need, indecently

I will revel in it, bathe in it

As you wait and hope for another hit

Maybe, if you are a good boy

You can be my favourite toy

Maybe I will lure you into my den

And make you mine once again

Do not hold your breath though, love

I may leave you as my mourning dove

I will pass you by with a smile and wave

And laugh as you dig your lascivious grave

You will dream of me, Pet

I do love that we met

You were so sweet and pretty

My darling little kitty

I will remember your face

As you came in lace

I will remember when you were mine

And how for me, you crossed your line 

I have left my mark upon your skin

It was such a delicious sin

But, my sweet, you have left yours too

Yes, I will always remember you

©CJ

Ideas of Movie titles before we finally came up with the one that worked best.

(Something I think the creators had gone through before their final decision).

(I)Kingdom of the Wild Cats

(II)Royal Felines

(III)The King of the Pridelands

(IV)Princely animal Ruler

(V)Emperor of the wild

(VI)Lion Guard

(VII)Simba- The Next Heir

(VIII)Mufasa's pride

(IX)The Jungle leader

(X)Simba's life journey.

Timon: 'Okay these all seem great crew, but let's at least come up with something else. Any bright ideas people?'

Pumba: 'I got it. Tell me what you think ´bout dis one Timon? How does this ring in your ear/mind: "The Lion King"!'

Then the story was ready to venture out to all parts of the world for family time, suspense, full Joy and laughter.

It’s not always the sea trying to call me home.

Sometimes it’s the sky. Sometimes it’s your voice

in a dark room and my stumbling feet that can’t

seem to reach you in time. I ate strawberries for 

the first time in months and I swear they taste 

sweeter than you ever could have. So maybe this 

is forgiveness, or maybe it’s just acceptance. Either 

way it’s getting too heavy to lug around my heart 

and your guilt. So here's a shrine of daisies, here’s 

my hands wrapped in velvet. Here’s your final 

resting place. A graveside for the pulp of heartache 

you turned me into. Nothing is tugging me of my 

feet or stealing my air. I’m home, and it feels softer 

than you ever could have.

I'm nervous, what if I don't make it..what if I can't graduate..

I'm so nervous..don't mess up..don't mess up

I can't do it, I'm gonna trip if I go up there..oh how embarrassing

What..yelling..'you can do it'..'go for it'..my family..cheering me on

OK..calm down, just close your eyes..deep breathe..open, go for it

Almost..uh oh, stairs..oh please don't trip, why did I decide to wear heels for this

It's almost my turn..there's my name..oh great I hope I don't mess up

Right hand grab, left hand shake..oh I'm nervous..

YES..I did it, ok play it cool, play it cool..almost there

There's everyone cheering me on..I feel great..I DID IT..I really did it 

Oh gosh I'm crying..how embarrassing..but I made it..I'm graduated

YES