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Writing Recap By Hunter Lough Fall- 2021

Reflective Essay The works I have composed for this essay represent me as a writer and the steps I have taken in terms of progression and myself aplomb in my own writings. Through the forced work on poems and writings I had never composed before, my eyes were opened to innovative approaches to writing. I have included some of those works of my first successful attempt at those writing forms which I am proud of. This portfolio shows sides of me which are expressed in non-fiction-- through stories of my family, and true stories portrayed through other characters. These writings also show some unrelated to me, just an attraction to readers in their purest form. The works I have decided to use for my portfolio include Favorite Genre to Read and Write, Euphoria, K+H, My Kansas, Prisoner, Tinder Dates, The Adventures of William the Teddy Bear, and Blood memory, (Grandpa Joe). Individually, these works almost all have deeper meanings to me, but also show a light side of my writing, which would be interesting to a reader. I feel as if they are the most well-rounded. I decided to include my favorite types of works to give the reader perspective. Euphoria is a definition poem describing life events as a teen. K+H is an acrostic poem about my wonderful girlfriend and I relating to each other through definitions. My Kansas is a poem about my own perspective on Kansas, in a similar fashion to My California. Prisoner is a sestina relating to a prisoner’s life. Tinder Dates is a fictional short story about super-human online dates. The Adventures of William describes a teddy bear going through life at a gift shop having PANS/PANDAS. Blood Memory (Grandpa Joe) is the story of my grandfather’s time as a veteran through my eyes in a dramatic, theatrical way. These poems all represent me in, I believe, the most positive fashion. The wide array of poem types, as well as my writing ability in each, portray me as a writer in the greatest fashion. The lessons through this class have enhanced my writing and opened my writing thinking ability. I have put this portfolio together in an order which I think clearly represents me as a writer and my ability to use different forms.

Table of Contents Introduction Insight- Favorite Genre to Read and Write................................................................................ 4 Poems (Definition Poem) Euphoria..................................................................................................... 5 (Acrostic Poems) K+H.............................................................................................................. 6 (Free Verse) My Kansas........................................................................................................... 7 (Sestina) Prisoner................................................................................................................... 8-9 Short Stories/One Acts Tinder Dates......................................................................................................................... 10-13 The Adventures of William the Teddy Bear......................................................................... 14-16 Blood Memory (Grandpa Joe)…........................................................................................... 17-21

Insight- Favorite Genre to Read and Write Personally, after many years of reading and studying so many different genres, I do believe I have a solidified favorite. Realistic fiction/science fiction, (which in some cases or based on your beliefs) can be the same. Between sports realistic fiction and science fiction stories such as, “Harry Potter” my attraction to reading stays prevalent. The non-strictness of the category leaves it open to a wide array of stories, which also creates opportune for worse stories, yet the best always seem to be the top of the line for me. Great authors in these genres could be JK Rowling, Rick Riordan, Mike Lupica, and many others. My favorite category to write would most likely be a free-verse poem, (or same as above) but for writing and entertainment purposes, we will stick with free verse. The advantages of free verse include non-strict barriers, the ability to add whatever pace or rhythm/rhyme you choose, as well as the ability to write about anything. I would say free verse poems are the most entertaining/interesting poems for me to read as well. I leaned towards a more traditional poem type with a strict rhyme and meter as a musician, but ultimately cannot limit creativity within those standards. A great free verse poem writer was Emily Dickinson.

Eu-pho-ria (N) 1. A feeling of immense or peak excitement. 2. The feeling of late-night drives with them, / The nights you wish could never end, / The stress-free, no responsibility, / The Sundays spent recovering, / The 65-degree weather arm out of the window, / The nightly conversations, / The innocent nervousness in intimacy, / The 100% on a math test, / The Tic-tac's you didn’t know you had on a difficult day, / The inevitability of better times, / The paying off huge debts, / The feeling a giant mental weight come off of your shoulder, / The progress being noticed, / The Sonic Breakfast Burrito and sunset, / The love shared between us.

Hircine Upbeat Naïve Tenacious Eager Radiant & Kind Ardent Tantalizing Empathetic

My Kansas Here, the sunset shines brighter than any combine lights, the farmers and the insurance agents talk about land, Casinos and good BBQ. Stocks are always a popular topic among the highly thought of. Here, in my Kansas, the streets are more dirt than asphalt, and nature thrives everywhere except where the games are being played. Here, in my Kansas, the fishing and baseball are so good people never search for more to life. In Wellington, the mediocre sports are so sought after that it makes us forget about our dying economy, Population, businesses, And makes us feel the days of our youth. In Wellington, the Mexican restaurants are so abundant you would not know where you were if you did not have Google Maps, and the farmers will make fun of you for using Google Maps. In my Kansas, the population is not always growing, but the small businesses and high school sports are. Everyone can find a support net somewhere, and it’s not strange to have a neighborhood cat, that everyone feeds. In my Kansas, 4-way stops are everywhere, but no one really knows the rules, they just give each other a friendly little nod, before someone just goes, and everyone eventually makes it back to the farm. In my Kansas, everything is approachable and peaceful, (other than the politics.)

The Prisoner The prisoner stares beyond his prison cell, Living this life in the middle of nowhere, staring out the small window at the plains Of nOthingness. tO this pOint he hadn’t tOuched anything but the tip Of his life, at a ripe age of 30. His crime led him here to the same days, the same toast fOr breakfast every mOrning. Life wasn’t fair tO him; he remembers the way the K9s barked On the run from the cops, when he finally gave himself in, way past due. On the edge of the gutter outside his cell he can see the morning dew, And he thinks about life outside, before all he knew was the cell. He would do anything to be back out there again, feel the bark Of a tree. Or anything really. He imagines vacationing, getting on a plane, Flying to anywhere but here. he’d drink aLL through the flight, a toast To anything. He would tell everyone his greatest advice is never to go to this hellhole, just a tip. He has a lot of those, tips, He would tell you to find a job, or something to do, because if nOt yOu’LL end up Like him, burnt toast. He remembered school time, studying cells And math and history, it all seemed so plain, yet he wOuLd dO anything tO get it back, Oh the things he’d dO. He could have a house when he got out, with dogs with a loud bark And a car and a job, oh this is just the tip Of the iceberg fOr him. he’d have everything he thOught was sO pLain Back in the day. He could see that morning dew

From the comfort of something other than his cell, and fOr breakfast he’d have anything Other than tOast. Now to that he’d make a tOast; Life with real food, real dogs and trees with the irritating bark, That life outside of the cell where he’d gO tO a restaurant and Leave a huge tip, Having the best Mountain Dew Of his life. Life could never be plain. Oh how his life could be so high-class compared to now, a car or plane Ride to a place far from here, with no toast Or 3 inch windows, dripping from the morning dew. Oh, what he would do. It is different in here, with the guards always bark- Ing there orders, he wished they’d take a tip, Or a bribe, and let him go. Go outside this life in the cell. Now as he awaits outside his cell in the courtroom, he remembers his prison life so plain. He remembers all the times the guards did not take his tip, and the burnt toast. When the judge says innocent, he thinks of the Mountain Dew, and the dogs he’s going to have, and that annoying, but now so relieving sound of their bark.

Hunter Lough Tinder Dates Characters JJ, a young bachelor, looking for love- 20. Keke, a crazy, emotional Tinder date- 19. Tay- a goth, punk-rock chick, who works as a barista- 23. Roxy- a seemingly normal girl with dreams of being a journalist- also thinks she's a superhero- 21. Setting Character’s home, city of Tulsa. Time Present. *Lights up on a young, taller, fair-looking gentlemen, aged 20, tired of having no love. He is walking downtown, back towards his college sponsored apartment. A scene of a city in the background, many passers-by. Light shines solely on this character. ‘JJ’ He’s answering a phone call, we don’t know who. He enters his simple apartment and starts to make a smoothie, he sighs. JJ scrolls through Tinder, where real love is found.* JJ: 27 matches and no one obtainable. Doesn’t anyone wanna find true love on Tinder anymore? All I’ve got so far is half-naked pictures and no personality. Maybe I will try speed dating. *Screen above shows a match- Keke- JJ looks up and smiles at crowd. Scene changes to nice restaurant.* JJ: So, I read you love roses? Those are my favorite flowers. *smiles* Keke: Yeah, I do; *face blushes a bit, smiles gently* they remind me of my grandma, who died in a horrific car accident. I was following her home that night. I will never forget what she looked like as she screamed for her life. JJ: O-oh. I am so sorry. Keke: Oh, it’s okay, I don’t care anymore. So, wanna come back to my place? JJ: Uhm, I’m not sure; I have got a work meeting tomorrow.

Keke: Come onnnnn, I promise I’m not that weird, you just asked a bad question. JJ: Ok fine, but I can’t be there long. *Scene changes as it shows JJ getting out of his car, arrived at the apartment of Keke.* Keke: Come on in, I’ve got some really cool things to show you. *Door opens. Inside are around 200 dolls, many taxidermized animals, and a stripper pole. She leaves the room, then comes back 2 minutes later, with a Mardi Gras mask.* Keke: Okay, pick up Annabelle, I wanna show you something. JJ: Haha, it’s okay I think I’ll stay back. Keke: NOW! *Chair starts scooting untouched.* JJ: AHHH HECK NAH *JJ runs out of the door, kicking away reaching vines.* JJ: That was a close one, I have gotta stop using these apps. *Scene changes as JJ is at coffee shop- scrolling through Tinder- new girl from behind the counter becomes more present- black hair and dark-skinned.* Tay: Maybe you should stop using those apps all the time and meet someone in real life. JJ: Maybe you should give me someone to meet. Tay (makes gestures towards crowd): You are really gonna say that with someone like me right here? JJ: Sooo, when should I pick you up? Tay: Hmmmm, I guess I’ll give you a chance. 8:05. *Scene changes to dressed up JJ going to get Tay at her apartment- JJ is dressed up, while Tay is letting her true colors fly, which is a little, goth.* JJ: Wow you look... different. *Smiles awkwardly.* *They approach a fancy dining table- both looking like they are wearing Halloween costumes.* JJ: So, what are you interested in, what makes you so different Ms. Barista? Tay: Well, I am really into anything that is dark and dangerous. I don’t normally do this kinda thing. JJ: Well what kinda things do you do?

Tay: Why don’t you come back to the coffee shop and I will show you how I spend my nights. *JJ follows Tay out- this cannot be any worse than last time, he thinks. Scene changes to outside of coffee shop, walking in together. The sign reads, “poetry slam tonight” on markerboard. JJ does not have much interest, but it’s better than dolls. He advances.* Random poetry slammer: Now before we continue, it’s 8:40, you all know what that means! *Tay smiles over at JJ- then aggressively howls, being followed by many more people* Tay: Come on, let it out! JJ: Ahhh I’ll pass on this one Tay: Okay fine but you have to hear my poem. *Tay advances on to the stage* Tay: (starting on knees) DEATH, cries, BUTTERflies, DEATH, mice, COME ALIVE, COME alive inside. *Snapping, thunder is heard, in the distance.* JJ: Man I gotta get outta here. *JJ starts to walk out- while getting barked at by many passersby, Tay- now dressed in complete darkness with a purple wig and 8-inch heels, feeds off the crowd- creating a weird visible aura, JJ makes his way out, calls an Uber* *Uber arrives- inside is an attractive, blonde college girl with glasses (Roxy)* Roxy: Rough night? JJ: Yeah, I’m beginning to think that relationships just aren’t for me. *Sparks fly immediately- portrayed with lights is a visible love connection-romantic music plays in background through incomprehensible conversation between actors on stage* Roxy: Wow, I never thought I’d find someone driving Uber- I just did it to show off the Audi. JJ: Yeah, this is great, it must have been fate that we met like this. *Intimate moment as they lean into each other. Suddenly an alarm goes off- light in the sky has a Superman symbol.* Roxy: Uhhhh, I gotta go. JJ: What? But this is great. You said it yourself. Roxy: Yeah, it’s just, my pet turtle died. JJ: You said you didn’t have any pets?

Roxy: I’d tell you the truth, but it would sound crazy. JJ: Today has been crazy enough, let’s hear it. Roxy: You know Superman, like in the movies. JJ: Yes. Roxy: I am like the girl version, that siren was for me. JJ: Roxy: I told you that you were gonna think I’m lying. JJ: If you didn’t enjoy the ride, you could have just said that. Roxy: It always ends like this. *JJ gets out of the car- walks into his house* JJ: Wow, I’m gonna need a break. I’m going to bed. *The building starts shaking slightly- JJ runs to his window, only to see Roxy in a Superman suit fighting a goblin in the air- full movie esque.* JJ: Ahhh HECK. *Close scene*

The Adventures of William (the Teddy Bear) This is the story of William. William is a common teddy bear in a children’s hospital in Wichita, Kansas. He is just like the other teddy bears, except for his auto-immune disorder, PANDAS. PANDAS is a disorder that is commonly caused by an infection such as Strep Throat. It is compiled of many things, but components such as OCD, and tic disorder can help to identify this disorder. There are many psychological and physical effects of PANDAS, which can sometimes be very obvious, and sometimes not be noticed at all. William deals with many patients, so disorders and anxiety issues are not uncommon dilemmas to him. William has several vocal tics, including his signature catchphrase, “Ay ay.” William was living good, but needed more; he decided to go on an adventure. I need something new. I know *click* (vocal tic) that I can make it down to the first level with the babies, and at least then, I won’t be getting torn apart. No; I would rather not feel the fecal *click*matter. While I am dormant, (or in the care of the children) I do not show my PANDAS, but I still feel the effects of it daily. I know- I will go into the gift shop. I could spend two nights there before making my move out with a patient. I am fairly small so I can fit in with a bag easily; then I will make a run for it as soon as I get to the kid’s house. Understand, the tics and effects are pretty normal to me. For anyone reading this, *click* the *click*, (that noise) will seem strange as if it is a constant and crazy annoyance. It is merely ordinary after being around me for a while. Some strangers notice it and get very curious, while others do not. It doesn’t bother me, everyone wants to be normal, but I have accepted it. The treatments are very hit-and-miss for us PANDAS patients. Some doctors do not still believe in it at this point, many states do not cover insurance for it, and many, many, many other teddy bears are misdiagnosed, whether that is with PANDAS or categorized with something like Tourrete’s Syndrome or Asperger’s. Many kids get

immediately medicated, some none. Some go on diets, some take IVIG; it really varies, much like all auto-immune disorders. Anyway, back to the story. I grab some grapes from the Pediatric diet room, (fruit is a huge part of my diet, as dieting is part of my plan.) I make my move *click* tonight. I put on my green and blue shoes, tie them; tie them again, tie them again, tie them again. UGH, the laces are uneven. I tie them again. And again. And again. Exactly 4-inch length on both sides or I will not move. I tie again, perfect. Thank the lords. That is the OCD. You tend to be able to notice that in people. My most repetitive battle with OCD is people calling me a brown bear when I am a light black shade with brown eyes. I will go to great lengths to prove my point. I head down the stairs, then remember I do not have real feet. “AYYYYYYY AYYYYY,” I scream all the way down. When I become more stressed, my vocal *click* tics become a lot more, “Ayy ayy,” present. I am nervous now. I have never done something like this before. “Ayyy ayyy,” I repeated in place until I could calm myself down enough to go into the gift shop. If any late-night employees or other animals saw my move it is over for me. “Ay, it is time,” I whispered to myself. I make my move into the gift shop extremely quietly, careful not to wake up any of the other teddys. They look so pristine, as if they had never been played with before. *Click* I felt bad for them. I shimmy myself into a good spot in front of one of the others. They would not know when they woke. They were used to being moved and restocked. I would stay here for a night or two until *click* I could get out through the front with someone. The next morning comes. It is a Sunday, so the patients are low. They all purchase little candies and frogs, no teddys. I saw a little girl who used to play with me there. She looks much better than when she first arrived. Great days, back when she would comb my hair and keep me from the other kids so that they could not damage me anymore. I wish I could go home with her. Who I end up going home with creates the craziest chain of events ever. Malachi Redmond. Wild child, with an auto-immune disorder similar to mine. His has not been treated the same, as he is put off until outbreaks and flares happen, causing him to spiral out of control, harming himself in the process constantly. *Click* *Click* *Click* I could not stop now. My teddy heart would have been pounding out of my chest had they put them in us. “Daddy pleaaaaseeee can I get this teddy bear?” he asks. Feeling the pressure from the glaring nurses and attendants he responds reluctantly, “I guess if it will stop you from having a breakdown.” I am in. Malachi grabs me tight before checking me out. “Runnn!” “You are doomed!” “So long bucko!” I hear the bears behind me say. They all know Malachi too. “Weird, it looks like there is no price tag on this one,” the clerk says. They charge the regular price and Malachi walks out happy. That is, until he spills his juice. And it is on his pants. He cannot deal with any liquid on his pants.

He drops me on the cement, rushing to bawl until he is acknowledged. I am about to make my *click* move, getting ready to run for it all. Something holds me back. I just cannot leave Malachi. He is not cared for correctly by his parents, and he will always have his differences. I am the something that provides him with, if nothing else, temporary happiness. After Malachi gets attended to, he picks me back up. I go in his car and ride all the way home. His seat is impeccably clean. He would not have it any other way. He has a nice home, and I am *click* excited, “Ay ayy,” to grow with him. Malachi over the next few months takes me everywhere with him. I knew I might not be his thing forever, but the joy I bring him in the moment was much more important. I learn about all his favorite, (and least favorite) things including foods, colors, types of airplanes, (he is a very, very smart kid.) He grows and never forgets me. While he does not use me as a young child would, he never put me down In a box or forgot I exist. *Click* “Ayyy ayyy.” As for the hospital, I am sure they replaced me with one of the untouched bears. I am happy for them. I hope they realize how fun it can be, and maybe they will go on an adventure someday like I did. It is only fair. As for me, maybe eventually I end up back there as a donation. Maybe not. Malachi is my rock, and I am incredibly happy to have been his.

Blood Memory (Grandpa Joe) It started at the age of 17. I was a high school football star. Notre Dame had personally offered me a full-ride scholarship to play football for my college career. But I had other plans. It starts with my wife Anna; we start to leave a picture show. All of the sudden, a panic breaks out amongst the people. It felt like a century before I could ever figure out what happened. Pearl Harbor had been bombed. I was enraged by this. In school, the little bit we’d known about the war is that we were fairly neutral as a country, so this kind of came as a surprise to me. The fear in that moment was as great as any. I knew then that my career was much greater than football. I felt as if making a difference meant making a sacrifice. When first available, I enrolled myself in the Navy SEALS. It never felt like a burden or a stint that would cause a great deal of pain or stress. This is what I was choosing to do. The SEALS were as non-eventful personally as the military can be; not to undermine it, as it was intense and a huge honor. Traveling home was always something to enjoy. One day, coming back from a visit home, my car broke down. Being late to the SEALS is unforgivable. I had no way to contact my sergeant and it never mattered whether or not my story was true. Punishment comes regardless. The punishment? Discharge from the seals and enlistment in the MARINES. This was no joke either. I was pissed, but I took it with grace. I went on several missions. On one specific overseas trip, to Japan, I found myself in a position to see 4 enemy snipers, all in lethal positions. They have my commander, as well as other members of the troop held with them. As I tell it, it seems as if the hero in me was alive, and the fear wasn’t a thought in existence. Whether that be true or not, the way it’s told is the whole truth, and what it shows is my dedication. I did what I had to do, to not only survive, but to make a difference. I fired off shot by shot- taking down each enemy sniper, before grabbing my troops, laying some, (including the commander) over my shoulder and giving my legs everything I had left. I pushed myself out as if it were a scene from a movie. As I run, the pain goes through my ass, and I know I have been shot. That was not important to me in the moment. All of my troop makes it without getting killed. I do not feel like a hero so much in the moment, as I knew there are other people dying at a much higher rate than I have saved. This could not be it though, as I found myself later disbanded somewhere in the country of Japan, no troop, and no direction, just moving with a purpose. I find myself looking upon a group of Japanese men setting up a machine gun, headed straight towards what I assumed was my post. Before construction can be finished, I wipe through every one of them, removing the threat of the gun as well as the people. Just more people, killed. I then find myself critically injured and yearning for Anna. The military sends a heads up of my injury, but because of enemy interception, cannot release my name or any other data, so Anna knows only that I have been injured, and my condition is unknown. It’s not for 8ish months there’s any other recorded word of me. Something my Anna would have been waiting for the whole time. I have been honorably discharged with injury, and been home a time or two, but the next event, which I can’t say the timeline of, I

am gone for much longer than I could have ever expected. I can’t say when or how, but I can say I become a prisoner of war in Japan. I am stuck there for months on end. The only thing I can say is that I cannot eat seafood. I’ve watched the sea’s food. I have watched many of my men become the sea’s food. Particularly shrimp. I’ll never tell anyone what happened there. Upon my return, I reach out to Anna as quickly as possible. In my letter I write, “Hey beautiful boots, I tried to contact you. Return to your mother’s house in Oregon. I will be there soon.” With my leave home I quickly travel back to Oregon. I see Anna, and she tells me of how she made friends with the people working the messages received from the Army. And she tells me of how she hid every day and waited for my message. Everyday. I receive many things, a Purple heart, a Bronze star, a Silver star. I received multiple campaign medals. A letter from the president himself with the highest recognition one could receive. I had it all. I was a decorated war-hero. I knew this and appreciated this. But unlike many Vets, I loved talking of my time. There were some untouchables, and some things that my mind will never let escape my mouth without consequence, but I would sit and talk forever. I only did these things because I wanted to serve my country. When I came back for the final time, I was a firefighter until my retirement. I always felt the need to help. It was something I wanted to do. Building a family was the best thing that came from it all. (Below are photos from Grandpa Joe’s life, including letters, the presidential letter, the stars, and much more)