Siera's Three Character Sketches

1.She walked down the steps passed the LSB “What year of school are you in?”

“I’m a freshman,” He said. Great. She realized he would have no idea what he was doing and would be unable to draw on passed experiences.

“Are you at BYU or UVU?” he asked.

“BYU” She said, a little taken back. She hadn’t even considered the fact that he might not be going to BYU. He definitely isn’t taking school seriously then. Her disapproval grew.

They continued to small talk, but she was only half listening trying to get into the crux of the matter. “We should probably get together sometime today and plan our activity for tomorrow. Are you going to ward prayer tonight?”

“No. I don’t think so.” He said. Wow. She thought. He doesn’t even want to be part of the ward.

2.I tend to be the type of person that tries to apply principles to every situation and learn from other people’s experiences. My goal is to avoid making mistakes at all cost. This is the complete opposite of my sister. She needs to make a mistake in order to understand something, sometimes make it twice, just to confirm her original conclusion. Today, this situation, it was no exception. As I read the dramatic monologue of a text riddled with mistakes and excuses, my heart dropped. Would she ever learn?

          3.  I sat watching the sun set over sea of Galilee, the lights from Tibreious sparkled. The atmosphere was calm, but I was not.

            “Siera! Can I come sit by you? How are you doing?” Lindy cheerily asked. I was surprised. I responded, “Sure!”

            She sat down next to me and rested on her hands. She held herself tightly but continued on in casual conversation. She told me she had caught a fish this morning and then went exploring with the group. I tried to pay attention as she spoke.

            “I have been feeling like I need to talk to you all week. Not sure why.” She paused.

We sat in silence for a moment. “Are you doing okay?” She continued unsurely.

            “Honestly not really.” I said. I felt her body relax. We just sat in silence for several minutes and I began to feel better.  

Kendal's Character Sketches

Seeing the sun up ahead, she had no fear of freezing. Reaching crowded trial of trees, she noticed the sun peeking through. Light creeping slowly through the leaves, warmed her conflicted heart with ease.The bodies of the leaves full of color, perplexed her mind like thunder.Thunder of the storm she was facing. And the thunder of each cloud that was covering. Each step over the rock-covered ground felt lighter as the leaves empathized with her and her trouble.

As I turned on the light, the creature's shadow projected larger. The light turned him a dark red brown and his details were clearer to me then. Such a simple creature with such complex features.The hairs on each of his legs were as fragile as he was.To think, we have the same creator brought things to light. His story is so different than mine. I didn't know of his travels, but I knew he was just alive as I was until I took that away from him.

She appeared to be a confident soul from Guatemala City, Guatemala, but her heart was in need of much repair. With a halfway bright countenance and smile, she moved forward. Having been raped as a small child, she still carried a large pile of rocks on her back. The difference for her when compared to others who suffered from something similar was that she could still see the light and hope that came only through the gospel of Jesus Christ.  

Katy's Character Sketches

His hands are perpetually crusted with soot and the dust from the shop. Sky blue eyes are so often ringed with the imprints of his safety goggles. He is a builder. Our home is full of bronze-cast sculptures and homemade tools. The desk in his workroom is strewn with half-formed wax models, covered in dust from his alabaster carving. "Can I have a kiss?" he'll ask, at least once a day. I usually comply. Each morning, before the sun rises, while the chill of night is seeping through our window, he snuggles close for a moment. I protest when he pulls away, preparing to leave for the gym. "I've gotta get huge!" he'll say jokingly.

She is soft like an angel or maybe a bear. It depends on the day. She can definitely growl like a bear when she's angry. But mostly, she floats like an angel. Her softness is manifest in her fluffy graying hair, the gentle lines crisscrossing her face, the smallish knots beginning to form in her hands. Her body is warm and inviting, her arms holding a small child whenever one is available. Her home is cluttered, but not dirty. The dishes are always done, the floor always vacuumed, but somehow there are always toys covering the cleanliness. The old sticker-maker, the dress-up cowboy vest and hat, the Fisher Price Hospital.

At first she is uncomfortable. I can tell from the way she avoids my gaze, her dark red hair falling like a curtain over her face. I ask her more questions. Her gaze lifts to mine. She doesn't want to tell me what's going on. Her small frame shakes as she squares her jaw and says firmly, "We've separated. I'm okay though." Are you? I wonder. I can tell from her face that she wants no pity. Her eyes have hardened, as if daring me to feel sorry for her. I don't think she is okay, but I do not feel pity. All I feel is admiration. One day, she is going to conquer the world. She knows it, and I know it.

Julie's Character Sketches

1. Spencer touches the Giants cap on his head for good luck. He picks up a bowling ball and turns toward Dad. “How much will you give me if I can score a strike with my left hand?”

Dad snorts. “Twenty bucks.” Grinning, Spencer saunters up to the lane and throws the ball with ease. We hear the clack as the ball collides with the pins, scattering them in all directions. He turns around.

“How much will you give me if I do it a second time?”

2. Dad’s eyes dash back and forth between the tv and his phone. One is flashing a report about the stock market while the other is displaying an exciting baseball game. He turns the stove off and heaps our plates with vegetables. We take a bite, pleased with ourselves for producing such a healthy lunch. Then Dad says, “Eh, I can start my diet tomorrow. Do you want to go get some See’s after this?”

3. Freshly baked bread is not an uncommon aroma in our apartment. Every day Chloe strides into the kitchen, her thick hair pulled back in a bun. Curly strands of hair frame her face as she kneads dough. Yesterday it was sourdough with braided ropes of dough circling the loaf. Today she expertly forms her dough in the shape of a rose. After the bread's in the oven, her eyes light up with excitement as she moves on to her next project: putting together a colorful quilt.

Ana's Character Sketches

1. Maxwell effortlessly crawled on top of his changing table. “Watch this!” He yelled as he jumped routinely onto the floor, avoiding any Paw Patrol figurines that covered it. Within five seconds, he was already in position for his next attempt. “Catch me now!” Before I could get ready for his flight, he was already in the air. I stumbled forward to catch him before he landed on the ground.

2. “Okay, guess who’s in my algebra class?” Rebekkah sprinted through the front door, and without even attempting to slow down, she began again, “Amanda! She even tried to talk to me. Apparently, she forgot that we weren’t friends anymore.” They had an on-off friendship since fourth grade—middle school did nothing to help remedy their friendship.  

3. The aroma of wet dog filled the white Honda after a recent lake trip. Nothing could separate Laura from her German shepherd “Gabbilious” (or who everyone else referred to as Gabby). She had always told everyone that no dogs would be allowed in the house because of the hair—it all changed with Gabby. Soon dog hair started appearing in the bed, which surprised us all, as Gabby was Laura’s fourth dog.

Dorothy's Three Character Sketches

1. It is more common for her office to be cluttered than clean. My mom sits behind a desk, composing an email to send to a list of dentists about doing some pro bono work for undocumented students at Highland High School. Around her desk, boxes of top ramen are staked, food donations that she will give out to new refugee students later that day. Behind her sits a homemade birthday cake, made for one of her TA's, who my mom knew would not be getting a cake unless it was from her. Her phone rings, my younger brother forgot his lunch, again. My mom finishes the email and instead of delivering his PB&J sandwich she made that morning, she brings him a chick-fil-a meal with a sticky note that reads, "I love you!"

2. An ambiguous tweet from him that reads, "Do". Do what? I haven't heard from him in so long. No updates on where he has been traveling, an additional tattoo, or how his mom is doing. How does he manage to remain so important to me when the details of his life remain so hidden to me? I search his name on twitter again, a photo of him with a new hairstyle. Still I question his initial "Do" proclamation. His philanthropic work has been dwindling, a topic I wish I could address with him. My phone buzzes, a text from my sister, "What does Harry's tweet mean?" I ask myself the same question and search Harry Styles once again into my browser. Whatever "Do" means, I am intrigued to follow Harry Styles and figure it out.

3. A friend should be loyal. A friend should be caring. A friend should be willing to drink diet coke with you whenever you want. My friend Elle is all of those things. She's the friend who will scratch your back after a long day, the friend that will purchase tickets for $5 movie Tuesday, and the friend that will compliment your outfit until you are confident you could be on the cover of Vogue in what you are wearing. She's the friend to all, a friend that makes you feel included and a friend that will drop whatever she is doing do go get a diet coke with you.

Three Scenes from Cassie

Three aged men in crow-colored suits perch, overlooking a worshipping crowd. I watch them as they watch me watching them. Three rows in front of me, Sister Devy sits in a lilac dress. Her face covered in smile-dug trenches. She has won the flower gardening competition since I moved into the neighborhood one decade ago. My dust ruffle skirt tickles my prickly ankles. I don't close my eyes for the prayer; I just look down at my chipped purple nail polish and wonder if Sister Devy lets her grandchildren in her award-winning backyard.

Her grass-stained knees and Dorito dusted fingers flitter across the yard as she gathers a buttery bouquet. The sun-fallen weeds bunch in her chubby fists. She gives her collection of starbits to her mother, sneezing. "Wow! They're lovely," Mom says, she's going to put them in a vase in the kitchen. My kitchen has scab-red roses from Costco. I guess I picked them out too.

It is 9:12 p.m. on a Wednesday evening, and I am at Walmart looking for essentials: Milk, a dozen eggs, and Nutella. I resolve to look at produce because it's there at the beginning of the store. I pass the neon fruits - Australian kiwis, Chilean grapes, Brazilian pineapples. I consider some Roma tomatoes, picked in Mexico. An identical group of erythema red, pressed together effectively. The fluorescent store lights reflect on the skin and I can see my face in the reflection.

Three Scenes from Kendal's Life

Foot on the brake, hand on the key, with a twist of my wrist, I was on my way. With one hand on the wheel turning it left, I saw the shadow of an unknown creature with eight legs on my windshield. His presence was as calm as mine before he knew I was his last and final predator. Pulling to the side of the street, I prepared myself for his execution.

I am a writer who’s clenched, but soft hands were ripped and cut by paper from an unknown fraudster. Still terrified by traumatic events, suffers their effects. A morning, brisk by the air of fall, sent the flitting legs of a runner up a mountain.The raw air touched her bare skin well.

Dark dirt and trees encompassed her on her way. Seeing the sun up ahead, she had no fear of freezing.

I needed so much time to heal and I didn’t give myself that time. Instead, I beat myself up even more and the healing didn’t happen for a long, long time because I didn’t allow myself to be imperfect and shattered. It didn’t help that I felt misunderstood by her because she just assumed that I was prideful and selfish and she would tell me. That was the easy assumption. But it went far deeper than just a pride thing. My heart was destroyed.

Three Scenes from Henry's Life

1.      The lights are on the field and it isn't nearly as cold as I expected. I shouldn't have worn a long sleeve shirt underneath. There are small crowds supporting the teams with unenthusiastic cheers. My cleats are too small and I don't even know anyone on my team. We only have 10 minutes to get warmed up and we have one ball to share. I'm already sweating. There is a distinct smell of sweat in cold weather that is like nothing else I can think of. 

2.      I walk in with headphones on so I’m not forced to interact if I don’t have to. The smell is pungent and the air is thick. My roommate’s girlfriend is cooking middle eastern food again, which are smells I am just not used to. I walk back to my room as the smell shifts to Honeycrisp Apple thanks to Trader Joe’s. My room is neat and tidy, just the way I like it. I set down my backpack and just lay there in peace and quiet.

3.      It’s raining so hard my windshield wipers can’t keep up. My backpack is riding shotgun and the music is turned up to 35. Everyone is driving like it’s a parade so they will avoid spinning out of control. I am calm. There is that familiar smell of sunk as I hit the point of the mountain. At least it smells like skunk. I’m not sure what it really is. I’m about half way home but with this traffic, I wont be there anytime soon.

Three Scene's from Cameron's Life

1)

·    I remember wandering through the walk-ways of Sierra College, the halls so quiet that one could hear the scuff of another’s shoe against the well-trodden path.

·      I sat down in my first class that fall semester. The class was silent. No one seemed to know anyone nor take any initiate to get to know anyone.

·      I asked my neighbor their name. They didn’t answer. I looked around the room. To my astonishment, it seemed that everyone around me had plugged into a digital realm of music, podcasts, even social media. Trapped in their own world, they went where I couldn’t follow.

2)

·      The sight of Thanksgiving dinner fills my vision. A deep golden bird simmers in the oven, the slow, consistent bubbling of gravy warms it to the very core.

·      The aroma returns memories of innocent liberties, naïve play, and a world filled with love and happiness.

·      The delicacy makes its way to my lips. Deep flavors, soft touch, prepared to perfection –mothers cooking.

3)

·      See the candle burning. A slow dull light alone in the darkness. A flicker, then a sound so subtle, it’s barely noticeable.

·      Crack! Pop! A bright white light awakens from the left. A spool of copper wire feeds the ravenous light, continuously supplying its existence.

·      A steel pipe is dropped outside the garage door onto the cold cement. A forklift picks it up and moves it. Voices direct the new materials to a fabrication specialist.