splashes of the waves more than anything‚ I never became fully aware about how far I’d gone out until it was too late. Not yet to the riptide‚ lucky me‚ I was able to catch ahold of myself. I spun myself around‚ I could just make out my grandmother’s cries‚ “Christine! Get back here‚ you’re too far out!” As I swung myself back to catch the board‚ I felt water up my nose‚ choked on the salty water‚ and got yanked under.
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The streets were empty again‚ as they had always been. A short breeze blew across the cracked roads of the city‚ and a deafening silence hung in the air. How long had I been here? Days? Weeks? Months? Years? It was like time had been compressed - or maybe it had expanded. Battered street lights towered around me with their cracked light bulbs. As I continued down the broken path before me‚ rocks and concrete slid and crunched beneath my steps. The torrid heat of the afternoon stung my skin‚ and the
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The days were ticking down. Halloween was now less than a week away and the need for decoration was essential. In a town named Exitium‚ about thirty minutes away from the California-Oregon border‚ Halloween was a huge thing. Every year there was a decorating contest. The winner for five years in a row was a woman named Sarah Smith. This woman had short‚ black‚ bouncy hair. She was a single mother and had a foster child‚ Harris. While Harris was at school‚ Sarah was rushing around stores and malls
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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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As I pull up the old degraded driveway‚ the old‚ abandoned asylum stands in front of me. I stop my car and take a deep breath before getting out. I slide out of the car‚ and walk up to the large wooden pine door. I take another deep breath‚ looking for fresh air‚ but the musty odor of the decaying asylum suffocates me. My heart is pounding in my chest as I place my hands on the door‚ waiting to push it open. The old door feels rough under my soft hands. As I tough the door‚ I imagine all of the
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a 6‚000 foot drop that has been carved out‚ making way to the deep‚ blue river. The harsh sound of water pounding against the dark red rock makes it very clear how this canyon has been formed. I try to make my across the canyon’s edge‚ but I’m beginning to feel faint and the fear of falling has almost completely consumed me. I slowly take another step‚ trying not to look down. As I place my foot down I knock loose a few stones that go clattering down the cliff. I count silently in my head. It takes
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black accents on the table top and the backs of the chairs. A intricate glass vase sits on top of the table filled with bright red tulips that I snagged from my grandmas garden before moving here. Some of their petals are turning maroon and are 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
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Walking down the hallway I remember experiencing the familiar feeling of anxiety drip down my spine‚ feeling the outside world getting larger‚ and myself getting smaller. I shake it off as I begin to turn and enter the dressing room door. When I enter I am welcomed by my family‚ who have been waiting to congratulate me on my first show. My eyes analyze them in order across the room. My mother‚ who used to always sing me songs when I was a child‚ not being the most excellent at it‚ but always able
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Siddhartha lay in his bed in the downstairs half of the yacht which he shares with his best friend Govinda. After the years they shared as ferrymen‚ they decided to buy a yacht. Something nice and fancy to take them to places they wanted to go. The yacht- which the names the SS. enlightenment- was 200 feet long and had a downstairs and upstairs. The upstairs was where the deck was. There were sliding glass doors that led out onto the deck lining the rooms. There was a large living room with two mahogany
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