My family’s bright‚ white van‚ that is covered in stickers of various colors and shapes‚ rumbles down the rough road. I look out the window to see the vibrant green trees‚ the grass that is a light shade of brown‚ and the occasional red and brown dead possum lying down in the middle of the road. Then I look out the windshield and see the cloud covered‚ dark sky that warns us of an upcoming storm. As we approach our white house with paint peeling off‚ I look out upon our yard that is filled with various
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After a few seconds of desperate flailing‚ my feet found the mountain edge and landed on a tree root that stuck out like a ladder rung. I shimmied down the rope‚ then stepped on the next tree root. Each step I took was with great care because I wasn’t sure which tree roots and rocks were sturdy‚ or which ones were delicate glass that would snap at your feet. Panic filled my chest and raced through my body as I made my way down the steep mountain side. My head raced with scenarios of my tragic death. Rocks
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Germany’s crisp winter air crept beneath the door as the beige-brown blanket held me tight. My phone read 11:30 pm and my eyelids began to feel heavy and started to slide down like blinds on a window. My body jolted as my phone vibrated in my hand. Tyson had sent me a text. It sounds cliché but Tyson was my everything. He was as tall as a tree and whenever we walked together I felt like an ant next to a skyscraper. His eyes were made of little caramel candies and they sparkled when the sunlight hit
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Dome‚ I marveled at the spectacle of a mountain of pure granite‚ thousands of feet high‚ having been glacially cut in half to perfection. Showing the effects of millions of years of attacking wind‚ rain‚ and snow‚ the exposed face of Half Dome is varied in color‚ from various stonewashed shades of gray to off white. Soon the faded colors of Half Dome were replaced and bathed by a vibrant orange - red hue of light sent from the setting sun. The mountain glowed like iron being forged by a blacksmith
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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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CHAPTER ONE: The only decoration in my locker was an old ninja turtles band-aid stuck on the inside from someone in a previous year. I hadn’t bothered to peel it off. The blue paint was slowly peeling off and the lock only worked half the time. I pulled my hair out of its ponytail and shook it out before grabbing my textbook out of the locker. My nails were bitten short with chipped blue nail polish. Last class I had destroyed them with anxiety. I shut my locker in frustration‚ knowing the next
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delved into the written word I began to recognize writing as a powerful tool for expression. I turned to poetry and short stories to capture childhood moments‚ expanding my vocabulary and becoming skilled at transferring raw emotions and ideas onto paper. My parents encouraged me to make frequent trips to the library‚ and I often staggered home beneath the weight of a pile of novels. When I entered high school as a published author and poet‚ my writing continued to mature. Although I still marveled
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Green grass stretches for miles‚ broken up around the edges with white fluffy sand that leads to the deep blue ocean. This island located in the middle of the world holds only one small‚ little house. The air was hot‚ the only relief was a light cool breeze that made the grass tickle her thigh as she observed the view in front of her. The meadow overlooked the vast wide body of water that she loved dearly. Interrupting her meditative state was the screeching of her four-year-old son. On the beach
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My buckling legs trudge towards the fireplace to resume my task.The aching in my back resorts to unbearable as my hand reaches for the metal bucket.I squeeze the side of my rib in hopes of lessening the pain but it gets worse. It gets really worse. Unable to bear it any longer‚my knees buckle and I fall on the hardwood floor.My hands grip my sides‚hoping to stop the sudden pain‚but my attempts are futile. My bones crack as I crouch down in agony.But I know I can’t stay on the floor any longer
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Its frosty air makes warm breath turn to a slight translucent haze; continuos sound echo’s around the glossy polished tiling covering the whole bathroom. Being night only reflections from the window lightens the room‚ making silhouettes. Broken mirror shattered sharp like knives over the floor‚ picks up rays which dance along the window sill‚ moist air made it seem like a shower had been taken‚ letting off a putrid smell‚ as though something was withering away in the corner and had been forgotten
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