green and black alarm clock goes off on the tableside next to my eardrum. I roll over onto my right side and hit the dismiss button turning off the vexatious sound. Slithering out of bed‚ I flick on the lights and slide on the usual black shirt‚ black jeans‚ and Converse; since it is the middle of January I put on a black beanie. I glide down the stairs and I topple over a colossal cardboard box and assuming it has Richard written in illegible letters‚ I know my stepdad has taken residence in my
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It has been a while since I had written a letter to you. I hope all is well. I had promised earlier to write a letter about how things were going here at the front‚ however‚ I refrained from doing so because I did not want to cause alarm. The war is continuing without an end in sight‚ however‚ I have been assured that it will not be long before I can see you again. Life is quite interesting here at the front. My friends and I joined the war as a product of pride and glory. However‚ the trenches
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I sigh lowering into an old wooden chair seated in a corner of the small shop I happened upon. Placing my warm drink on the rickety table‚ I stare out a nearby window and give a slight shiver. Grabbing the edges of my worn wool coat I pull the old coat tighter. The action doesn’t do much itself‚ but it makes me feel better. I look outside again‚ my eyes drifting over dull‚ empty markets‚ the slow rain drizzles down the pane of glass as I continue to look outside. A heavy cloud of gray has been hanging
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Entering a large venue‚ walking on what seemed to be a mile long stage‚ knowing that all eyes are staring at me. Stage lights flood the stage‚ music begins. Being backstage‚ anxious to get on stage and perform. This is what happened on my first Nutcracker show in the Party Scene. It was a cherished and unforgettable moment and a thrilling feeling I will never forget. In those minutes‚ I knew dancing was an enjoyment for me. It was a day in December‚ my friends and I were walking up to the auditorium
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I stop at the edge of the graveyard. I am thoroughly equivocal about what to do. The wind whistles through the trees and the branches rattle the windows of a nearby building. My hands clutch the handlebars of my bike. I stare in the dark at the text message on my phone-- “ meet me in the graveyard at 9:00 and I’ll give you the photo.” My mind implores me to turn around‚ but my heart compels me to keep moving. The rain changes from a drizzle to a downpour. A whooshing sound startles me and I look
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danced and blending and formed into a mossy room where small people‚ if she could call them that‚ danced. On the heads of the dancing things where flowers that couldn’t be real. Some of the colours where colours she had never seen before. Everything about that room felt
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walking confidently to the sounds of music playing in the background‚ coming from the obnoxious football players. My coach acknowledges my presence as I walk into the gym ready to start practice before the game. All my friends rush towards me‚ talking about who’s jersey I am wearing tonight. With all these girl’s around me I am suddenly swamped with a gust of perfume and hairspray‚ with my eyes blinded from all the glitter on our bows. My coach calls out‚ “Girls let’s go‚” we rush to our neat formation
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my gloomy home began to move‚ and a bright beautiful light from the sun appears above me. The rough big hands picked me up and placed me on the soft grass. I can feel the warmth of the bright sun on me. All the thoughts running through my head about what is going to be my task this time. I am prepare to make my owner a better player by the end of the task ahead. Just then I am kicked to the middle of the field where my task will begin. My owner starts dribbling me down the field towards the big
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My bare feet chafe against the rough plastic of my bike pedals. I pedal as fast as I can‚ but it’s still not fast enough. A colossal headwind slows me down‚ making me work twice as hard to go half as fast. I need to get to the beach before dark‚ and I can already see the sun setting through the careening trees. To my relief‚ the sharp smell of salt and decomposing seaweed soon fills my nostrils. Despite everything‚ I manage to smile at the thought of all the euphoric memories I associate with the
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beginning to wilt‚ I should water them soon. Behind the couch and out of view is where the kitchen is. It’s small and cozy with two stars leading up to it. An island is in the very center‚ with marble table tops and various kitchen intensional strewn about. The large windows merge into warm cream colored walls that match the red and black aesthetic of the rest of the house. Two black bar stools are placed by the island‚ their backs to the couch. Three lights hang over the kitchen‚ almost like the ones
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