Far away
On the shores of Shattered Dreams
A small, lone traveler
Learns that nothing is as it seems
Promises fade
Love is buried
The only constant things
Are death and decay
On the shores of Shattered Dreams
That one small traveler
Knows that no one can hear him
Even when he screams
He wanders on the shore
Made of sharp, jagged, unforgiving stone
The waves beat an angry rhythm
On that cold black stone
The sky is dark with stormclouds
Lightning cracks across the sky
Causing our young traveler
To look up and scream to the sky
"Who am I?"
"Am I just another face
You see as you walk down the street?
Am I someone you've met face-to-face
Or is that just another illusion from my tormented mind?"
The wind does not answer him
Nor do the waves
The sky still crackles with bright fire
They do not listen to his cries
The wind carries his words away
To be lost in the storm
As if they had never been spoken
And the traveler
Weary and lost
Sinks to his knees
On the shores
Of Shattered Dreams
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
On the Shores of Shattered Dreams
Scribbled by H.J. Hanauer at 12:10 AM 2 responses
Thursday, March 13, 2008
A Vision of Students Today
Scribbled by H.J. Hanauer at 4:12 PM 0 responses
Warrior in the Dark
He stooped toward the ground, delicately lifting a shredded scrap of cloth that had been trodden into the forest floor. Clutching it in his fist, he began to shake with rage and sorrow. Then, slowly—reverently—he tied the silver scrap to the hilt of his sword. Her memory would live on solely with him. The leather of his gloves creaked as he clenched his fists.
He sheathed his sword, knowing that he must move quickly before they came again. He raised his eyes to the dark castle in the distance and resisted the nearly overwhelming urge to howl at the sky in rage. She was gone, and he must continue his journey alone. He began to walk, the sound of his heavy black boots stifled by the still night air of the forest. He pulled his glove onto his hand for a more snug fit.
The only sounds were the distant cries of the werewolves howling at the full moon.
He never halted in his steps again as he made his way through the forest, his dark high-collared cloak making him nearly invisible. He was not afraid, merely angry and sad: She had been his reason, his one hope in a dying world, the only thing that had kept him from going back to his old ways of life as a mercenary, and now the only thing that was left was a scrap of the scarf she had worn in her hair every day since he had bought it for her.
His gloved hands clenched into solid fists again. They would pay. Maybe not today, maybe not anytime soon.
But they would pay.
He drew his cloak tighter around himself, bracing against the chilly wind that suddenly whipped through the forest air. Was it his imagination, or did he hear laughter? He dismissed the notion as childish, the wind could not laugh.
Could it?
He went forward into the night, facing what may come with his head held high. He would not crumble.
He wanted revenge.
Scribbled by H.J. Hanauer at 2:17 PM 2 responses
Stirrings in the Night: A Halloween Short Story
A stiff, bitingly cold wind rushed through the streets, rustling the dead leaves and searing exposed skin like fire. The moon was full, but hidden behind clouds of deepest black.
Scribbled by H.J. Hanauer at 2:12 PM 0 responses
Undefinable
What does it take
For you to see me as I am?
Why do you always claim
That you know my innermost thoughts?
Do you really want do know
What goes on
in
my
head?
Dark waves of thought crash violently
On the rocky shores
of belief,
The full moon casts light
On the dark forests
of emotion,
The sun tries valiantly,
Only sometimes succeeding,
To brighten the caverns
Of experience.
My words wander
Like lost souls
On the winds
Of my imagination.
Broken thoughts
Tumble
Through time.
I am not profound
I am not a leader
I am not encouraged
by life's winding road.
Bright colors flash
Soundlessly
Through a dark, cloudy, moonlit sky.
This is who I am.
I am emotion
Thought
Reason
Imagination
To others, I am defined
Through my words
And the actions of this limited body.
To myself, I am defined
By my perception
Of the world.
By the cries of my mind
Or the laughter
Of my muse.
Language is limited
So is action
expression
relation.
I am undefinable
And I am weary of being imprisoned
by the world's mind.
Scribbled by H.J. Hanauer at 2:09 PM 0 responses
Fly Away From Here
I want to fly away from here
Before I sink into the earth;
I want to conquer my fear
I want to feel the exhilaration of new birth!
These days are all the same;
They drag by as the clock ticks.
I'm sick of always playing this game.
I want to fly like a phoenix.
I want to escape the constant pressure
Of trying to always do what's right.
I want someone to reassure
Me that I have not lost my will to fight.
I know that this life is not all there is,
But sometimes it smothers me
With its foul stenches.
Sometimes it covers me with debris.
I feel like I am buried by
The things that are expected of me.
I want to fly away from here
Before I sink into the earth;
I want to conquer my fear
I want to feel the exhilaration of new birth!
Scribbled by H.J. Hanauer at 2:08 PM 0 responses
Music
Silver and ebony, smooth and sleek
To make children laugh
And women weep
Wood and metal, perfect tools
To make strong men crumble
And the wise look like fools
No one can know Music's mind
There is no harder thing to find
But we do, again and again
Find the mystery, sometimes the pain
Of lost love
Loneliness
Or fear.
The music sways, ever moving
Lost souls join in common thought
Barriers broken
For who can keep silent in the midst of music?
You cannot hide
Why should you try?
I know of nothing that cannot be
Made better through sweet melody
Scribbled by H.J. Hanauer at 2:07 PM 0 responses
Yucca Mountain Essay
Since 1978, the United States government and the Department of Energy have been researching Yucca Mountain—which is located about one hundred miles northwest of Las Vegas, Nevada—as a possible site for a storage area for the nation's nuclear waste. Its relatively close proximity to such major centers of population, however, has caused a major controversy in Nevada. While some people may disagree, saying that the Yucca Mountain Nuclear Waste Repository (Yucca Mountain Project) is a danger to the environment and is an unnecessary financial undertaking, the benefits far outweigh the potential problems.
But what exactly is the Yucca Mountain Project? It is simply a permanent solution to a current problem. The Yucca Mountain Repository is a series of underground tunnels that have been carefully constructed and shielded, using a network of remote-controlled, protected, specially designed railcars to transport solid nuclear waste into an underground chamber roughly 1,000 feet below the surface (DOE fact sheet). The nuclear waste from across the country will be contained in these tunnels. The storage chambers and tunnels would be monitored constantly, allowing for any dangers to be identified and dealt with accordingly. Having all the solid nuclear waste in the nation in one location would lessen the cost of maintenance and increase the safety for the environment on a large scale.
The general population in Nevada, however, opposes the Yucca Mountain Project, citing the fact that they have no nuclear program of their own and should not be responsible for the nuclear waste generated by the rest of the country (LV Sun). The debate has been prolonged by accusations of falsified safety reports, amendments to safety regulations, and the natural political problems inherent in any major project that involves public safety. These concerns have drifted in and out of the public eye for years, with the occasional newspaper article stirring citizens in an uproar, only to have the frenzy die down within a few weeks with the release of new information. Usually, the only problem is lack of information.
The Yucca Mountain facility will be constructed, monitored, and maintained by the United States Department of Energy, who will be held to the safety standards put forth by the Environmental Protection Agency. Working together, the DOE and the EPA should create a network of safeguards and checkpoints suitable for the maintenance of such an enormous undertaking (EPA). The organizations responsible for the creation of the Yucca Mountain facility have also made a considerable effort to keep the public well informed and up-to-date with accurate information. Information is readily available on the official government websites, and is typically easy to understand. There are even transcripts of many of the official technical documents being reviewed by various committees.
There is the question of transportation of the waste, however. A common misconception about nuclear waste is that it is flammable or explosive. This is not the case. Radioactive waste will only explode in a forced chemical reaction. It cannot combust otherwise. Responding to concerns of the public, the DOE and EPA have stated that there are plans in place for transportation. Carefully designed railcars that would shield the surroundings from harmful radiation will be constructed. According to the US Department of Energy,
Grove, Benjamin. "Utah senator: Yucca 'does not make sense.'" The Las Vegas Sun, 21 September, 2005. 07 March, 2007
The Eureka County Nuclear Waste Office. "Map page." 07 March, 2007.
United States Department of Energy. "Overview: Yucca Mountain Project." 07 March, 2007.
United States Department of Energy. "Americans' Average Radiation Exposure." 07 March, 2007.
Scribbled by H.J. Hanauer at 1:56 PM 1 responses
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
The Chief
Scribbled by H.J. Hanauer at 9:52 PM 0 responses
It Begins
The South Forest of Jenigral Kingdom was quite peaceful during the day, when the Shalari dragons were sleeping. The blood-red reptiles only woke with the setting of the sun to hunt the humans that encroached upon their forest, and slept from sunrise to sunset. Daylight meant safety and peace.
It was high noon and fourteen-year-old Lillian sat in the highest branches of an oak tree, looking over the tops of the other trees. To the west she could see Father's Shoulder, a tall mountain range that separated Jenigral from its coastal neighbor, the kingdom of Saldren. The river Thalen flowed from that peak into the South Forest, and on its southern bank was the tiny village of Jenst, the southernmost community in the kingdom.
Lillian pushed a few strands of hair behind her ear when they escaped from her practical braid that hung just above her waist. Her black boots were scuffed and dirty and the rough tunic she wore was sturdy and an un-dyed, dull grey. She sat on the thin branch easily, balancing with slight concentration, as she had been taught. There was no breeze today, which made it easier.
Lillian had been in this tree for most of the day, having disappeared from the village earlier that morning. She didn't feel like being hen-pecked by the older ladies who were busy dressing up for the harvest festival. Lillian had the dresses, she just lacked the inclination to wear them.
She tilted her head when she heard a sound filtering through the dense foliage. Voices. Girls from the village, most likely, she thought, but how many?
She closed her eyes and focused on the sound. She counted four different voices, and a few more pairs of footsteps than that. She smiled: she was getting pretty good at this.
"Lillian? Where are you?" That was Greta's voice, faint but recognizable. Lillian stayed silent, taking advantage of this opportunity to test her tracking skills. The soft crunch of footsteps on a forest trail stopped. The group had halted in a clearing several yards away. One of the girls said something, and Lillian could tell by the tone of the voice that it wasn't kind. Most likely Suzette, saying something nasty about her.
"Lillian?" Greta was getting annoyed. "Come on! The feast is going to start in two hours, and Harfan's been looking for you!"
Lillian grimaced: she hadn't intended to annoy Harfan. He was the Guardian of the village, their protection from the Shalari after the sun set. He had been trained at the Guardian's Keep in Jenigral City before being assigned to her village just after Lillian had been born. When her parents were killed by one of the dragons two years ago, Harfan—who was a dear friend of her father's—had taken her under his wing, becoming a sort of older brother to her in a relatively short time. He gave her lessons in tracking fighting, swordsmanship, and horsemanship. She lived with Harfan now, in a small cottage on the village outskirts, near the stables.
"Lillian!" Greta hollered, "Please come down from whatever tree you're in! I don't want to have to deal with Harfan!"
Lillian sighed and set off toward the clearing through the canopy of trees, moving silently. Every time she went to the forest, she put her lessons from Harfan into practice. Soon, she was only a few feet away from the group of girls, but she was still several feet above eye level.
There were six girls standing in the clearing, searching for her. Greta's sharp eyes found her first. "There you are," she said, hands on hips.
Lillian smirked and took a moment to compare herself to the teenaged girls on the ground. At fourteen years old, Lillian was almost the oldest. Greta held that title at the age of fifteen and a half years. Their clothing was drastically different; while Lillian was dressed in cheap, practical boots, trousers, and tunic, the others were dressed in skirts and blouses, had ribbons in their hair, and wore thinner shoes. Nearly every one of them was gazing at her with disdain. Greta was the only one that Lillian considered to be a friend. They had known each other for all their lives, and were nearly inseperable.
"Why is Harfan looking for me?" She tilted her head, voicing the question at her friend. She didn't want to go back to the village yet. As the daughter of a noble family, she commanded a little bit of respect, but it was rarely given. When her parents had died, she had abandoned the fine dresses and lace kerchiefs for her more functional attire, which the older ladies in Jenst regarded with hostility.
"I don't know…he said something about starting early today, whatever that means. He said he'd look for you." Greta shrugged. They started to trek back to the village as a group, with Lillian and Greta falling back so they could speak privately.
"Your mother hasn't found out that you're taking lessons from Harfan, too, has she?" Lillian asked.
Greta shook her head and gave a secret smile. "No," she giggled, "Can you imagine her face if she had? She has a hard enough time letting me spend any time here. I shouldn't be associating with a vagrant like you." The last was said with a valiant attempt at a straight, somber face. She couldn't hold it, and started to laugh.
"Well, if we ever get into real trouble, we'll know what to do. I doubt half the boys in the village really know how to fight." Lillian's light laughter startled a rabbit from the undergrowth beside the trail, and she watched as it fled deeper into the forest, making far more noise than a rabbit should. She snapped her head around and gazed into the trees. Was there something more than a rabbit out there?
When Greta noticed her hesitation, she stopped, too. Glancing quickly at Lillian, she whispered, "What is it?"
Lillian held up a hand for quiet. She was listening to the forest. Another pair of footsteps had been following them, she was sure of it now: she had just ignored it, thinking it was the girls ahead of them. She turned slowly, taking in the forest around her.
Nothing.
"It must have been a fox or something. There's nothing there," she said. She wasn't so sure it had been a person now. It probably was a fox.
She shook her head, gave an apologetic look to Greta, and the two of them began walking again. "So," she began, "Have your mother and father decided when you're moving to Jenigral City?"
Greta grimaced and toyed with a loose thread of embroidery on her sleeve as she answered, "I think they want to go just after the Harvest Festival."
"But—but—that's only a week left!"
"I know," Greta sighed, stopping again. "Papa's worried about his cousin Peter. His health is failing, and Mama and Papa want to be close so they can take care of him. Mama's already packing so we'll be ready to leave on the day after the festival. They bought a nice carriage from Theodore with the money we made this summer from selling our orchard. Harfan's going to ride with us until we reach River Haven. He'll be back the next night."
Lillian was silent, digesting the fact that her only friend was leaving in one week, and that they might never see each other again.
"I—" She swallowed around the lump in her throat. "I hope you'll be safe. How are you getting to Jenigral City from there?"
"I think there's going to be an escorted convoy there. We're supposed to catch it and travel with them."
The sound of a snapping twig jerked her attention back to the surrounding forest. "Did you hear that?" she asked her friend.
Greta nodded and tensely scanned the forest around them for any sign of movement. "That wasn't a fox."
Lillian stared through the branches, too, realizing that the sound she had heard was made by something much larger and heavier than a fox. She glanced at the position of the sun out of habit, but it was the middle of the day: no Shalari would be awake. The forest was eerily quiet, and it took her a moment to realize that the birds had stopped singing, as if they knew what was lurking in the trees.
Suddenly, a large grey blur fell from the branch above Lillian, causing Greta to give a little yelp of surprise before the screech of metal screeching against metal rang through the forest. The birds broke their silence and fled from the noise, squawking in protest. Lillian found herself with the blade of her dagger pressed against the edge of a long, bright silver sword, which was held by a tall, slightly unkempt-looking man in a grey tunic. His shaggy brown hair fell into his eyes, which crinkled at the corners in a way that indicated a humorous personality.
Lillian pushed forward with all her weight to dislodge their locked blades before sputtering in complete shock. "Harfan? What in the blazes—?"
Harfan, the village Guardian, sheathed his sword as he bowed slightly in greeting. "I told Greta that I wanted to start early today. We don't want to miss the opening feast of the festival."
Lillian scowled. "That doesn't explain why you're leaping at us from the trees like a large, armed squirrel." She crossed her arms. "You nearly frightened me to death!"
Greta narrowed her eyes shrewdly. "How long have you been following us?"
Harfan laughed. "Guess."
Lillian rolled her eyes. "You've been following me since I climbed that tree, haven't you?"
His answering grin was the only reply she needed. "Come on, ladies! Time for a little sparring. You have your equipment?"
Greta shook her head. "No, and I need to change my clothes if we're going to be sparring."
"Back to the village with you, then!" He said brightly. "I'll wait for you in that field by William's sheep pen."
The girls nodded and scampered into the village to collect their things.
Scribbled by H.J. Hanauer at 9:48 PM 0 responses
Never Forget
Never forget the pain
But never forget to laugh
Without joy, we live life in vain
And of it, we only see one half
Never forget the sorrow
But never let the tears rule you
There is a time, maybe now
To cry and to grieve,
But smiles get lonely, too.
Never forget to leave time to ponder
The intricacies of life
Never forget to wander
But don't ignore the strife
Because if we forget to take
The bad along with the good
We are hollow, empty souls,
And life becomes misunderstood
We, by nature, are defined
By the daily workings of life.
Scribbled by H.J. Hanauer at 9:47 PM 0 responses
Neleda
Scribbled by H.J. Hanauer at 9:47 PM 0 responses
Break Free...
Give me a reason
To feel the sun shine on my face
Give me one moment
To catch my breath and find my place
I don't want to fall
Into that place again
Always waiting with open jaws
Ready to swallow me whole
I try to break free
Sometimes I see
That my efforts have not been in vain
Break free with me
Lets run and we'll see
Thats it's possible to win
I don't want to lose
This fragile hope inside
I don't want to cry
Or hide this pain deep inside
Break free with me
Lets run and we'll see
That it's possible to win
This game we call life.
Sometimes you feel
Like you're drowning
Sometimes you feel
Like you're all alone
I can see the sunshine
Near the end
We're almost there,
My friend
Don't give up hope
Break free with me
Lets run and we'll see
That it's possible to win
But I can't do it alone
Scribbled by H.J. Hanauer at 9:42 PM 0 responses
Alive
Feel the breeze on your face
The crescendo of time immortal
Drink in the beauty of this place
And find yourself alive
Do you see the phoenix
Dancing on the wind?
Do you want to fly with him
Until a day undetermined?
Feel the weight of life
Shed from your bruised shoulders
Let it catch in the fire
Watch it as it smolders
These chains are gone
Now you are free
To be anyone
And explore this reality
Scribbled by H.J. Hanauer at 9:19 PM 0 responses
WELCOME
Scribbled by H.J. Hanauer at 8:43 PM 0 responses
Labels: Welcome