This one was written ten years ago, way back in middle school! I think Mini Maria was a little cheesy… 😉
The King of Cheese by Maria Ferguson
This is a story about the King of Cheese. That’s why it is entitled “The King of Cheese.” If it wasn’t about the King of Cheese, I might have called it “Unicorn Pastures” or “A Day at School.” However, this story is about a king, a mouse, who rules over cheese (quite literally, in fact).
I’m scared. My heart shivers
despite the pressure squeezing it ever inward, smaller and smaller till it’s ready to burst.
Each hair on my body tingles with the anxiety blazing across my skin
And even as the tears stream down my face
my pain pales in comparison to yours. Continue reading
Happy anniversary to meeeee!
I just noticed today is my one-year WordPress anniversary! I feel a little silly acknowledging it since I haven’t posted in forever, but my best (and pretty much only) blogging happened last summer, so I’m hoping to pick up where I left off starting ASAP.
So, yes, I’m still alive, still an engineering student (one year left for undergrad, woooo!), still a writer, still not sure what I want to do with my life. I wrote a great paper on wingsuit flying for my technical writing class that I should post on here. Designing wingsuits would maybe potentially be my dream job…but I digress.
On my one year blogoversary, I do hereby vow to revive my writing and thereby Behold the Infinite this summer, and take advantage of the time while I have it! I’ll be taking an intensive Russian course just for funsies for most of it, but that should inspire more writing, not replace it, right? Да!
So с днём рождения to my blog, hello again, world, and I hope to be seeing more of you very soon!
“You are a poet,”
She told me,
And maybe words can make it so.
My pen blazes its trail
I’d like to be a poet
But I am an adolescent:
Ungainly, gawky, disjointed
But still covered in those awful pimples
And sweating through my makeup.
I feel a longing
Baffling in a way that makes perfect sense.
An “if only” added to a “but actually”
Sandwiched between two slices of denial
With a side of greasy fries.
I pause to self-edit
But make myself press on.
Maybe if I don’t acknowledge the failures,
Written March 13, 2014
A swirl of smoke paints its way to the heavens. Hate, contempt, anger, and despondency weave their strands.
Gray gives way to a multihued masterpiece: poison green and fevered pink, sickly orange and despairing blue, a psychosis that pulses with the beat of the bass.
The ephemeral tapestry blisters, shudders, and gives way to the breeze, dissipating, leaving only the rank stench of pollution in its wake.
Jan 28, 2014
I want something real.
I want something lasting.
I want someone to have and to hold till death do us part.
The commitment part, the responsibility, the adult bits? Those can wait. I’m in no rush.
But I want to find that person, that man I can see beside me for the rest of my life. I don’t want to get married anytime soon. But I do want to see that door open and know it is a possibility.
A year ago I wanted a relationship. Any relationship, really. Sure, I had a couple crushes, but if pretty much anyone approached me I would have been willing, because I craved the recognition. I worried about shared values, interests, etc., but put those worries on hold. Why not just give it a shot and see how it goes? Continue reading
Back in the day, I was an equestrian. Near the end of my horseback riding career, I experimented briefly with eventing. If I had the time, I’d love to explore riding cross country more, but for now, the memories will have to suffice.
Written circa 2007, this was my go-to “describe an obstacle you’ve overcome” or fear-conquering story.
Eventing. What a nondescript word. Maybe it hints of competition; but what kind of competition? A sport? What sport? Let me solve the mystery for you: eventing is a type of horseback riding that includes three different events: stadium, dressage, and cross country. I recently began eventing at a new barn and learned the different types of riding in eventing. Stadium consists of jumps set up in an arena; I have done stadium for about three years. Dressage is complex flatwork (no jumping), so I know the basics for dressage. However, I had never done cross country, which incorporates riding over many natural jumps like logs and banks. Cross country is by far the most thrilling—and frightening—event. Continue reading
Grown and blooming.
Bright and looming!
Great Thor’s thunder,
Fierce and booming!
From age to age,
God or mortal,
NONE SURPASS ME
IN MY RAGE!
The assignment: write a story that somehow incorporates the fall of Rome.
It could have been a couple of pages long. I certainly don’t think it was intended to be longer than three or maybe four. I gave my teacher seven single-spaced pages. Eight, if you include the (not required) cover page. I dunno why, but I took the prompt and ran with it. I toyed with the idea of developing it into a book or writing a sequel story, but it never happened. Feast your eyes upon the historical fiction of junior high school Maria!
Note: I fought off my urge to edit, so it’s basically untouched since 7-8 years ago. Do let me know what you think of it, I’d love to hear your thoughts. I have several critiques for junior high Maria, but I’m going to hold off for now so I can hear what you think first.
Without bothering to remove his mud-smudged armor, Claudius stormed angrily into his tent and threw himself upon his cot. What had Aurelian been thinking? Aurelian, the leader and general of the rebel Roman army, had once again lost a battle against Rome due to his arrogance. How had it happened? Why had Aurelian let it happen? Claudius asked himself heatedly. But he knew perfectly well how and why they had been defeated.
Written circa 2006.
One morning, Marie Kaline woke up to her mother shaking her. “Marie! Wake up! Mitchell disappeared last night!” Mitchell was their next door neighbor. It was only eight o’clock in the morning and already the day was disastrous. Marie gasped. “What happened?” she asked. “Do you know?” “No,” her mother replied, “but he was kidnapped…His mother just phoned. She wants us to go to their house. Now hurry and get dressed.” In a few minutes, Marie and Mrs. Kaline were on their way. Mitchell’s mother met them at the door. Her black hair, normally neat, was uncombed. Her cheerful face was now white with worry. Continue reading