I think if we are fortunate to have true friends, we will find that  friendship is a rewarding thing. Along with the laughter and fun comes responsibility and deep sincere concern for one another, that is why I personally like ensure that if I see one of my friends in need that I will do whatever I can to benefit the situation. For example it may only take  your presence and small chat to make all the difference to your friend, or just listening. Another thing that helps is leaving a small gift with simple words such as “I hope you have a good day” to make your friends day. Putting in the effort for others shows character but it may have made all the difference to that one person.

In most cases not only is the direct victim affected but the children aswell. Children are often present and sometimes become one of the victims or are forced to pick sides. Since it is naturally graphed into a child’s mind to mimic and impersonate their parents actions they slowly grasp the concept that abuse is okay if their parents are actively involved in it. It not only changes the victims lives but those around them.

Statistics on domestic violence against women: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Domestic_violence

Percent of women surveyed (national surveys) who were ever physically assaulted by an intimate partner: Barbados (30%), Canada (29%), Egypt (34%), New Zealand (35%), Switzerland (21%), United States (25%).^[31] Some surveys in specific places report figures as high as 50-70% of women surveyed who were ever physically assaulted by an intimate partner. Others, including surveys in the Philippines and Paraguay, report figures as low as 10%.^[31]

In India, every two hours a “bride burning” occurs because the woman had a small dowry or so that her husband can remarry.^[19]

Between 1993 and 2001, U. S. women experienced intimate partner violence almost seven times more frequently than men (a ratio of 20:3).^[42] Statistics for the year 1994 showed that more than five times as many females were victimized by an intimate than were males.^[43]

There is currently limited research on the abuse of lesbian women by their lesbian partners. However, an investigation by the Canadian Government saw some 19% of a survey of lesbian women respond to being victims of their partners.^[44]

This video really shows how the hero maybe the one nobody would expect. The Hero in this case was Joey, a mentally challenged guy who worked for the Oiler’s hockey team. He did all the odd jobs making him a main staple in the team.

A Pittance in Time

We as Canadians always associate freedom as one of our rights. I think we take our freedom for granted and frequently forget the price paid for it and thats why remembrance day is so important. Remembrance Day is there so that we wont forget the men and women who gave up their lives just for our freedom. I think we should honor their heroism with just two minutes of our time to remember the lives they gave for us.

Here is the last instalment of writing a short story.

We are instructed to come up with a theme for our story. Well here is my theme: A woman’s crisis in life brings her back to her roots, where a stream of the past makes her realize she has found the peace she has been so desperately looking for. 

Here is my story:

Staring out into the city lights on her condo apartment balcony is where you would find Barb McPhee on a chilly October night. If you were originally from Canada and had been living in Saskatchewan for a long time you would know that fall’s yellow and brightly coloured leaves would blow in the icy wind, waiting, it seemed like, to be covered with the first snow fall. Barb had become no stranger to this idea as she had grown up in Saskatchewan her whole life.

As she stood there shuttering from the cold embrace her plaintive expression slowly gave way to a hint of resolution. The intensity of her expression grew so adamantly that a tenacious fire lit up her eyes. But where had this change come from? Most people who knew her at work saw her as ambitious but in the quiet way, never really outspoken. Only years ago when Barb first moved to the city was that fire again present. It read the familiar determination of what most young entrepreneurs want…  “The American dream”. These dreams of hope and success that she had later blew away like the leaves falling towards the street below her only to be trampled upon the foot of man and beast. 

This analogy had been the very existence of her life in the city. Her dreams turned into ashes as the marriage between her husband and slowly turned cold. When the neighbour hood had its street gathering he was the perfect, pleasant gentleman. He would brush his hand along her face with such a pleasant caress and laugh with the other family men. To the outside world they may have been a perfect couple but behind closed doors he turned into a out of control, wild beast… blaming Barb for his failures at work. First it started with verbal abuse then it took a violent toll with the first blow to the face. When he finally did hit her it almost came as no surprise to her already troubled mind. Many nights of crying herself to sleep lead her to where she is now.

The tears began to flow once again as she stood on the balcony recalling last night’s conversation with her husband.  “ Why are you never happy with me?” he exclaimed as she cooked supper. What could she say to this answer?

“ I think you know why…. I can’t do this anymore Jim, I have been pushed to far”

She continued with hesitation in her soft spoken voice, “ I’m your wife, I need you to treat me like your partner instead of someone you can take your anger out on, if you don’t stop the abuse I will leave”.

These words hit him like a ton of bricks. At first he almost felt sad because he knew what he was doing was wrong but he couldn’t stop, after all wasn’t it she that said that he should take this new job? She was to blame. Sure it was better paying but it was so competitive that a lot of the time he felt like a failure. His dads words came back to him… “You’re a failure! You will never amount to anything!” those words had left a wound on his soul. First he failed his dad and now at work? Jim didn’t know what to do so he would turn to Barb. At first she would encourage him but once he started verbally abusing her the support stopped, and soon her eyes held the same look his dads did… that he had failed them.

How he hated that look! And that is why he started to hit her… for that look to turn into terror, this way at least he had succeeded in some way even if it was inflicting pain.   

That sadness turned into rage once again as he rushed at Barb sending her crashing into the cupboards. He hit her across the face, how dare she even think of leaving him! And that was the last straw for Barb, her resolution was clear, she had to get out!

Barb was tired of making up excuses to her friends about the bruises that covered her body… sick of being confined to this house that served as a jail cell. She needed to get out. But what truly made her sick was that she had no one to turn to. She only had friends in the work environment because her husband wouldn’t let her have friends for social pleasantry. She had not talked to her parents in three years despite their desperate attempts; again her husband didn’t allow it. But it seemed as the only way out to escape the beast that tore the pieces of her heart into mere shreds. She decided to turn to her parents because it was the only way. The question was would they reject her just as she had rejected them these last terrible three years?

Originally she had come from a small town called Delise, known only to most visitors to Saskatchewan as good place to stop to go to the bathroom at the local Esso gas station. Not a lot of tourists stopped in to actually take in the town life because of lack of “excitement”, and overtime Barb began to think the same. She grew weary of prying neighbours who gossiped about ostentatious behaviour (which mainly included Mrs. Tomas walking about her living room naked) and the down turn cycle of continuous boredom. She thought she had outgrown this small town and turned her sights on to something that would truly liberate the freedom she had been craving… city life and the “American Dream”. But the small town that she once longed to break free from was her place of refuge. Back to her roots and parents.

The decision was final. She tore away from the balcony and hastily walked to the bedroom. She knew that Jim was going to be home in 30 minutes so she had to act fast. Throwing the suitcase upon the bed she stuffed it with as many clothes that she could. She left the Versace, Gucci, and Armani clothes to rot though for she despised those items… they reminded her of the many occasions that she wore them out with her husband to his lavished company dinners. The times she was forced to laugh and dance with him. Every time he touched her she would cringe away with fear and utter disgust but vibrated with hatred.

After closing the suitcase she put it beside the front door. A million thoughts rambled through her mind of what to do. Cash was the one thought she needed to be realistic about; she walked to the vault in their bedroom praying to god that it would still be open. Reaching for the handle and twisting it, she was actually able to open it…. she let out a sigh in relief. Taking $400 from the stack was replaced with her wedding ring. The diamond shined in the dark safe, Barb hoped she would never she it again.

At the front door she looked once again at the cold empty condo, it was nicely decorated but held so many bad memories that she didn’t care to take anything else. Barb started the car; the hum of the engine was soothing as she made her way out of the city towards her childhood town. The safe place.

            It only took her 45 minutes to reach Delise. In that short amount of time Jim had called Barb on her cell 15 times. She didn’t have the strength to answer it, so she would let it continue to ring. Surprising she felt no lack of remorse, only peace.

            She turned her car down the street where she grew up. How the place hadn’t changed! The houses still sported chipped paint and picket fences that needed boards replaced. And finally there was her house, white with brown trimming and a small front yard. She pulled into the driveway and sat in the car for a few minutes debating on what to say.

            The words never could come out the way she wanted them to, so Barb got out of the car walking towards the door. It was still night and the crescent moon shone in all its brilliant majesty. It lit up the path so she could see where she was going. Four more steps and she was at the door. She pushed the doorbell hoping that her parents were still awake. The waiting seemed to take forever until the door slowly opened. It was her mother who answered it. She looked at Barb with such caring eyes it was to overwhelming for Barb.

            “ I’m so sorry mom…” was all she could get out until she started to cry.

            Her mother came out and hugged her for a long time. The comfort of her embrace was more than Barb expected.

            Her mom ran her hand along Barbs hair “ It’s alright, I know. I am so happy to see you, my beautiful daughter. Come in and ill put a cup of tea on so we can sit”.

            It was a long story on Barbs part, but her mom just listened. At times it was so hard that she just broke down but her mom was always there to comfort her. At the end of story both decided to call a lawyer tomorrow to seek legal council on what to do next.

            “ We will figure out something tomorrow in the mean while go and get your rest, good night, I love you”.

            “ I love you to mom”. Was what Barb said as she walked up the stairs to guest bedroom. She got ready then climbed into the bed.

            She lay there consumed by thoughts of terror of what the days ahead might be like for her. Will Jim come beating at her parent’s door in the night, demanding that come back home with him? Or will he trick her into thinking that he has changed and she will come home only to find that he still is that terrible beast? That night she cried herself asleep once again.

            A peaceful rest had done her good. She felt more invigorated and alive. The morning came with sunlight hitting her window, presenting a sunrise. She got out of bed and went towards the window. The sky was filled in pink and orange Hughes, and she saw the morning frost covering the tree beside her window. Ice sickles hung from the tree leaves reflecting the light.  It was beautiful. This strange serge of strength embalmed her. This land and her parent’s love would now help her find the inner strength that she needed to deal with the future. She no longer feared it like before but she accepted the challenges ahead with confidence. For she was strong.

Read a good book about finding good ideas

Every short story has a beginning, middle and an end

A good idea for a story is that you have a person who strives to solve a problem but the catch is they fail. But what the protagonist learns is satisfying to the reader. Usually that means the person has to fail meaningfully, and that almitaley the protagonist changes by what they have learned. You have to make sure they ending is satisfying to the reader.

Bring together two unrelated ideas. This brings different aspects to the story and keeps the reader interested.

1) dont use a lot of wasted words- since it’s a short story you dont have a lot of space so make sure all words count for something.

2) know your main character well- be able to incorporate their personality , need a problem, and needs to overcome their problem

3) explain the history while you writing the story- dont spend a lot of time on the history cuz it takes up too much space

4) read a lot fo short stories- in doing this you will be able to see what other writers have done and pick up clues from them on how to write a short story

Complication: Devil wants more souls so he makes a bet with a fiddle player claiming he will give him a golden fiddle if the boy plays better than he, but if he doesnt than the devil keeps his soul.

Rising Action: Devil plays his fiddle first, and does well which keeps the listener in suspense

Climax: then the boy plays and does better than the devil, and the devil knows he has been beat.

Resolution: The Devil gives the boy a golden fiddle and leaves him looking for someone else.

article: http://www.newresilient.com/2009/03/11/overland-the-family-farm-and-canadas-agricultural-crisis/