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#1 *HONEY*


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Posted 31 January 2007 - 06:14 PM

Hey everyone! This is a place for you to post your short stories (one shot, does not have a continuation) or essays and get criticism from other members. The purpose of this thread is to cut back the short story and/or essay threads, as they usually get replies for about five days and then die.

If you choose to post your short story and/or essay in a stand-alone thread, it counts against your five-story limit in the WF. Something to consider.

Please remember all WF rules, as well as general MCMB rules.


-xx tephy

*Current Full Quote: "You learn by writing short stories. Keep writing short stories. The money's in novels, but writing short stories keeps your writing lean and pointed." - Larry Niven
^Previous Quote: "Story is to human beings what the pearl is to the oyster." - Joseph Gold
*Previous Quote: "Life is a handful of short stories ..." - Anon
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#2 A real all american girl

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Posted 31 January 2007 - 08:35 PM

Name Of Story: The Sound Of Nothing
Genre: Scary-short story

I want to say the day was crystal clear and playful but the lightning striking out of the clouds wouldn’t let me. I was stuck in this town, my car throwing a fit ten miles away leaving me without shelter, or transportation. I really can’t stay in this little cafe forever. I looked at the people around me; they were very strange and a little awkward. Right then as I was absorbed in my self worried thoughts I heard,

“More coffee?”

I looked up at my waitress who had eyes like a fox, and a birthmark affecting the side of her strangely old yet young face, and it made me jump. I starred into her eyes, it seemed like they were dragging me in and the women asked,

“Miss more coffee?”

I shook my head, getting rid of any rude thoughts and answered,

“Yes please.”

She poured the coffee and I decided to ask,

“Is it weird having a birthmark like that?”

The woman stopped cold and smiled up at me,

“It’s not a birthmark sugar, it’s a scar.”

When she said this a weird shiver went through my body. Chills formed on the back of my neck, and my throat closed up.

“You are a little young to be out here all by yourself. What brings you to our little ghost town?” The fox woman asked.

My mind raced with questions, the one that bothered me the most was did she just call this place a ghost town? I starred up into her face and it looked empty she was just starring down at me… emotionless.

“Um well I’m eighteen and I have a right to be away from my parents, and it’s just a little road trip.”

“I bet your mom and dad miss you tons.” The fox woman whispered to me.

It looked like she was going to say more, her face looking scared and her eyes searching mine. Before she could say anything someone yelled,

“Janie, get moving.”

The woman jumped back and whispered to me,

“I was about your age when I came here.”

Then she was off, placing that empty look back on her face and a smile on her lips that sent my heart running and my stomach churning. I felt like the whole town was just watching me. Maybe not directly but somehow they were keeping an eye on me. I had to get out of this place. I put about fifteen dollars on the table and as fast as I could, I ran outside.

The cold wind attacked my throat and I coughed. I finally looked up and saw everybody moving around, and that’s when I noticed everybody here was old. I haven’t seen a single child or even young adult since I’ve been here. Shaking the thoughts from my head, I knew I was being stupid. My feet started walking and I found myself going into an alley way.

It was dark and full of trash that smelled like a mix of old cabbage and mud. I searched the area and I heard a soft whisper say,


I stopped dead in my tracks, knowing that no one knew my real name. I’ve been using a fake one ever since I left home, who would know my real name? I shivered as the brick walls laughed at me, and the windows eyed me. I started walking slowly but I heard it again,


I stood my ground and yelled,

“There’s no Lucy here.”

That’s when I heard a garbage can kick over and a scream accumulated in my throat. But with the window- eyes watching me, the bricks mocking me, the awful smell that is burning my nose, and the darkness engulfing me the scream just wouldn’t come. Instead of waiting I turned around and ran, my legs pounding.

The alley way seemed to never end, the darkness kept stretching in front of me and I ran harder. Tears burned my eyes and all I could hear was the constant, beat, beat of my scared heart. My feet started pounding and everything turned to slow motion, my hair hitting my neck my eyes letting the tears out and my arms pumping. Then I ran into someone in the street. The light took me over and the man asked,

“You okay?”

I looked behind me the alley way seemed so normal, and harmless but just the bricks in the shadows made me jump. I looked back into the man’s face. He was at least seventy but like Janie he had a childish look fighting in the background. He had black flimsy hair and big blue eyes.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

I nodded drying my eyes. The man just looked down at me and that’s when I noticed a birthmark on his neck, but it looked very similar to Janie’s scar.

“Is that a scar?” I asked the old man.

He knew where I was pointing and his eyes looked scared as he searched the crowd for anybody suspicious and answered,

“Yes, how did you know?”

“Lucky guess.” I answered.

I said goodbye to the old man and walked away. In the back of my head I could hear the laughing of the bricks. I shuttered and sat down on the side of the road. The grass underneath me was cold and the people around me were busy. They all passed and they all eyed me, some even stopped and starred down at me all saying,

“Poor soul.”

For the ones that stopped I saw something that made my mind turn on to high speed. They were all old, but had the youngness fighting in the background and they all had scars. The scars were all on different parts of their body but they all had them. I shook my whole body and murmured out loud to myself,

“Duh Lucy there was probably a fire that attacked the town, or it's just a coincidence.”

Smiling to myself I saw the first car of the whole day drive by. I waved as it pulled to a stop and the window lowered. An older man, maybe around forty was driving and he was with his little girl, who was maybe eight.

“Hey you need a ride?” the man asked.

I shook my head.

“I’m staying here tonight.”

The man eyed me and asked,

“Where? The last town I was in was ten miles away.”

I rolled my eyes, this wasn’t a funny joke.

“I’m in a town right now.”

I turned around and saw all the old people walking and talking to each other, then I motioned to the buildings and turned back to face the man.

“Are you on medication? Did you forget to take it?” He asked sincerely.

I sighed putting my hands on my hips,

“I’m not on medication.”

Then the little girl decided to speak up,

“Daddy, don’t you see the pretty buildings, and all the grandmas and grandpas?”

I smiled at the little girl for taking my side and the man shook his head and mumbled to his daughter,

“There is no town sweetie.”

He looked up at me and growled,

“This isn’t funny. Do you need a ride or what?”

I stomped my foot and yelled,

“I’m not joking.”

The man just eyed me, rolled up his tinted window to his car and drove off. I watched the car my eyes sticking to it like glue, until it was no longer visible. My heart stopped just for a second and my mind blurted out the idea he was being absolutely serious. I have to get out of here, this town isn’t right, and I knew it.

I started walking in the direction the car was going, straight and fast. I want to be out of this town as soon as possible. As I was walking I saw a huge building out of the corner of my eye. I was going to continue walking, but that one look had me transfixed. I found myself walking into the building against my will.

My eyes adjusted slowly and after a while I realized I was in a library. People were bustling around with books, and fake smiles. I found myself walking to the back of the library and the whole time the books were sneering at me and the people were mumbling,

“Poor soul.”

I heard everything that they were saying but my feet just kept moving, it was like the people knew what was going on with me. I ended up in the back of the library and I sat down in a seat. In front of me was a pink sparkly journal. Right then I saw a figure dart into the darkness, I stood up and looked around. I ran straight after the shadow I saw. Running as fast as I could, I found myself not moving.

I was up and out of my seat, and my legs were moving by I wasn’t going anywhere. The place became quiet and I heard the people’s voices all around me,

“Poor soul.”

“Not another one.”


“Oh dear.”

I looked around but saw no one, yet the voices kept repeating those three phrases. I screamed,

“What do you mean? What is going on?”

The voices just continued and soon I gave up on running and found myself sitting back down. The books smiled, and laughed at me. I closed my eyes and whispered,

“This is not happening, this is not happening.”

Holding back signs of fear, I took a breath and I looked back up. Darkness took over the section of the library I was in, and I felt pain ping through my hand. When I looked down at it, something dark brown was growing right in the middle. I screamed and shook my hand ferociously. Hoping this was all a dream, wishing I was okay, all while screaming my head off.

The brown speck kept growing, and I noticed it looked just like everybody’s scar. I freaked out, what was going on? I heard a laugh behind me and the familiar whisper of,


I looked around, and grabbed the pink book in front of me for a weapon.

“Sweetheart.” The voice whispered again.

I looked down at the book and the voice that seemed to all around me whispered,

“Drop the book Lucy.”

That’s when something went off in my head. This person or thing didn’t want me reading this book. I quickly opened and started flipping through.

“Don’t do that Lucy.” The voice became angry.

I continued to flip through and small dark letters caught my attention I stopped and read,

March 16, 1996,

I did it, I’m free from those combining images called parents. Being seventeen and alone is great! I’m staying in this small town for a while…

“DROP THE BOOK.” The voice screamed.

I shook and let the tears fall from my eyes, the library was taunting me and the books were in my mind laughing,

“Welcome.” Over and over again.

I steady my hand and continued reading,

Everybody is nice but old, so I don’t think I’ll stay. Maybe it’s because their weird birth defects too. I mean they all have these weird scars and everything. We’ll I’m in the library and the power just went out. So I can’t really see, which means I got to go, write in you later!

Then the picture of the eighty something year old waitress named Janie formed in my head. Wait this couldn’t have been her I mean this journal entry was only from ten years ago. My thoughts were stopped by the voice howling,

“I won’t hurt you precious.”

Then I put two and two together. Janie said she was my age when she got here, and in this journal entry the girl was seventeen. The darkness of the library and the people all with the scars, were also in the diary. The youngness in everybody’s old faces.

Whoever left this for me was leaving me a clue. This town isn’t full of coincidences and old people, this town in a full on supernatural human trap. But my question is why did only the daughter see the town, not the dad too?

“And what are you going to do about it Lucy?” The voice laughed and the books mocked.

I looked back down at my hand and the scar was growing faster. Nobody was around and even if they were they couldn’t help. My heart started beating faster and faster then my brain yelled the clue that brings everything together is age. I didn’t understand until I thought about it further. The look behind everybody’s face was young, the eight year old could see the town but the forty year old dad couldn’t.

I mean I am only eighteen but I’m still a child. This town was a trap for the young, to turn them old. Right as I thought this books disappeared, shelves fell down and I could move. Grabbing the diary I made a run for the door. Dodging books, and shelves I jumped into the outside world.

I ran until I was across the street and I sat down on a park bench. Once the smoke cleared and I blinked my eyes a couple of times, I found myself surrounded my nothing. Just the bench I’m on and everything else is gone. Looking around I was positive the little Café, the alley way, and even the road were gone.

Scared more then ever I looked down at my hand and the scar was still there growing. I felt a presence beside me and I heard the voice say,

“Isn’t the sound of nothing beautiful?”

I turned to face him and the first thing I saw was the scar on the side of his face and the fact that he was young.

“What do you think, Lucy?” He added.

My heart lurched, he sounded just like well the voice. My whole body started shaking and the world started spinning the last thing I saw was a boy standing up and walking away once far enough I saw his face turned older and wrinkles formed. A laughed was created on his lips and I heard Janie’s scared words,

“What brings you too our little ghost town?”

CC Appreciated!


p.s. Tephy Love the idea for this kind of thread!!!!!!!
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#3 jessinia


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Posted 01 February 2007 - 01:03 AM

*jaw hits the ground*
Oh man! Now I feel bad 'because mine isn't a trillionth as good. :(

Title: The Lost Woods
Genre: Fiction

“Annabelle, I just cannot wait for this party!” Liz-beth gushed.

“Yeah, Right…Lana’s night party,” I said weakly. I should say right off that my name is Annabelle Diana Inez Muniz. I am of Spanish descent and love to speak my native language. One day, a raging fire orphaned my sister and me, and we were left with absolutely nothing. Luckily, my abuela discovered us and we were brought from Cuba to the United States of America. My sister and I met new friends and one girl, BJ, invited us to a party, hosted by my new best friend, Lana Annapolis and her twin brother, Kenny. The worst part: It was being held in a forest called the Lost Woods. It was called that because of these four children who supposedly went there three summers ago and never returned. The fact that it was a late night party made my stomach churn since I was afraid of the dark, even though I hate to admit it, but the fact that there was a myth didn’t make me too excited about it either. I had been dreading the party all day, but by a nudge, push, (and eventually) shove of my sister and a few other friends, I went. Lana was really excited. Joseph (a.k.a. Jojo) was already there. I greeted him with a hug.

“Hey, Annabelly,” said Jojo, using a pet name he made up for me.

“Everybody here?” shouted Lana over the noise.

“No…we still need BJ and…Kara,” Kenny responded. 5 minutes later, BJ ran in.

“Sorry I’m late guys,” said BJ. Kara ran in a few seconds later, almost bumping into BJ.

“Sorry!” she gushed, embarrassed at once.

“Okay. We’re going to have a Scavenger Hunt,” said Kenny. Everyone cheered and then hastily got into pairs. They were all of my friends, but not enough people for exact pairs. They were BJ and Lana, Liz-beth and Jojo, Kara, Kenny and (after discovering that there weren’t enough people,) me.

“Ready…Set…LET'S BEGIN!!!!!!” yells BJ. We all race towards the woods, me gripping Kenny and Kara’s hands tightly. As it turned out, I had quite a bit of fun with it. After it got pretty late, we completed the search and began counting to see which group got the most objects to win the prize, using a dry, wooden stump as our table. Just then, it started to rain hard. I mean REALLY HARD. Luckily, the cabin to of a retired gardener was nearby. There was the faint glimmer of a lantern in the window.

“Run for it!” yells someone. We all went inside. Or so I thought.

“Everyone here?” asked Jojo. One by one, we all responded, “Here.” But there was a voice missing…Liz-beth! “Liz! Liz!! Lizzy! Lizzzz-beth!” No answer…no sounds…nothing.

“I’ll go look for her,” volunteers Jojo.

“By yourself!?! Are you dense?!” asked BJ, “There is no way I am letting you go alone. Got it?”

“Fine. You can go with me,” he snarled at her. We all watched them descend into the dark rainy woods arguing.

We waited for them to return. And waited…and waited…and waited.

An hour and a half later, I asked, “Where are they?”

“I don’t know,” whispered Kenny with a hint of urgency, “but they should probably be back by now.”

“Neither do I,” answered Lana in a squeaky, but determined voice, “but I’m going out there.” After Lana, Kenny and I argued for another 15 minutes, trying (and failing) to convince her that she should stay behind; we were interrupted by a loud, harsh, and impatient voice.

“At least take a partner with you!” scorned Kara, who had been quietly sitting in the corner until now. “In fact, take me with you,” she said. No one disagreed. The two were swallowed up almost instantly into the darkness.

Kenny and I were now alone. We began what we knew what would be a long, frightening wait.

After 1…2…3 hours slowly drifted by, we decided to go out. Kenny and I slowly gathered what courage we thought we had left and opened the doors, grabbing the hanging lantern. The rain was falling harder than ever. It was muddy and dark. So dark that I could hardly see my hand, even with the assistance of the lantern! After grasping blindly for a bit, I grabbed Kenny’s hand. “We’ll make it through this,” was what I wanted to say, but instead, all I could do was stutter and ended up just saying, “Oh, never mind.” We walked, but saw little to nothing. Suddenly, I tripped over a tree root and fell, losing Kenny’s hand and the lantern’s flame on the way down. “Kenny! Kenny!” I yelled, but the wind kept blowing my voice away. I could faintly hear Kenny calling my name loudly, but I couldn’t answer. I became so afraid that I got up and ran, continuing my journey alone.

After getting brambles stuck in my hair, tripping many times and running some more, I finally began to see less trees and more light. Then an extremely bright light that I knew as a light bulb came nearer.

“Annabelle! Annabelle!” I heard my name being called repeatedly.

”I’m here. I’m here!” I answered back.

“Annabelle where have you been?” asked Jojo. "
We found your sister and then we found Kara and Lana searching for Jojo and me,” rushed BJ wearily.

“What about Kenny?” I asked.

“Oh, he’s here too. Why? Do you like him?” asked Kara, sneaking up and suddenly appearing by my side.
I just scoffed and said, "Of course not," but Kara just grinned. “Thank Goodness, you're okay!” I said to Kenny who had shuffled sheepishly beside me silently. “We should have another Woodland Party,” said Lana. "That was soo much FUN! It was way awesome."

“No way!" I interrupted frantically. The I wearily said, "I mean no thanks… Next time, I think I’ll stay inside.”



So... Totally cliche, but...

Jess the Shocker :o

[mod edit: double spacing - PLEASE do this in this sticky]
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#4 A real all american girl

A real all american girl

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Posted 01 February 2007 - 05:22 PM

*jaw hits the ground*
Oh man! Now I feel bad 'because mine isn't a trillionth as good.

THank You!!!! :icon_sunny:
But I love your story, it's not cliche at all! Good job!

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#5 Ft_Louie_Lvr


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Posted 02 February 2007 - 12:38 AM

Okay, well I just had to write this story for school and I figured I'd post it here. CC is welcome. If it stinks don't be afraid to say so, I need to be preared if I'm gonna get a bad grade. ;)

A Dream Come True?

As I walked through the doors into winter formal, all I could think was “Why did I pay 30 buck for this?” The place was completely vacant of decorations except for a banner that said “A Dream Come Tue” in large bubble letters. Not only is that the worse theme for a dance, but the last time I looked, true was spelled with an “R”

I thought back to the night before when I slept over at Olivia’s. “All I want is for someone to notice me this time, preferably of the male variety. I didn’t spend sixty dollars on this dress for nothing!” It was becoming clear to me, however, that that wasn’t going to happen. Unless of course I tripped in these heels and actually broke an ankle, as I was sure I would.

People slowly began to trickle in, and the DJ put on a loud, pulsing hip hop song. I could tell this was going to be a very long night. Luckily I came with friends, so I could dance with them instead of sitting around like a dork. Dancing in those heels was no joke, but eventually I started to enjoy myself.

I was getting hot, so I went to go get some soda, and that’s when I saw him. It wasn’t one of those cheesy, movie-like moments when suddenly everything around me stopped and our eyes locked and all that. Actually, he didn’t notice me at first. But, boy did I notice him. “All I want is for someone to notice me,” I had said. I sure wish he was that someone. I got my Dr. Pepper and turned around to go back to my friends, when I noticed him looking at me. I was sure he was looking for someone else, until he started walking my way.
I can’t remember how the conversation went, only that we had a conversation, and somehow I ended up walking out to the patio with him. There was nobody out there, and why should there be? It had to be at least 30 degrees. We talked, and I drank my soda. Everything seemed to be going great.

A short, light breeze swept by, surly ruining my hair. Then, I saw something flicker in his eyes. That was the first time I looked into his eyes. They were black, a pure, dark, ominous black. Something about his eyes was very unnerving. Suddenly I was alarmed. Who was this guy? I didn’t even know his name. I’d never seen him at school before. How old was he? My head spun with questions. What was wrong with me? There was nothing wrong with this guy. And yet something kept telling me there was.

I was lost in thought when he suddenly said “Hey, I’ve, uh, gotta go. But it’s been fun. Can I, uh, get a hug?” And then he smiled, it was a small smile that didn’t show all his teeth, but it still made my blood run cold. I was going crazy. I knew it. I did not see what I just saw. Because when he smiled, I could swear I so two sharply pointed fangs.

My head spun, it was like I’d been hit over the head. I was outside of the school now. What happened? I distinctly remembered running, running for my life. But, I was wearing heels, wasn’t I? I looked down and saw my broken heel and swollen ankle. Well, that explains that. But what had I been running from? I thought, but no answers came to me. Everything was a blur. And then I remembered the teeth. I felt myself freeze as the truth suddenly dawned on me. I looked at my hands. They seemed suddenly pailer, and my veins looked a frightening blue in comparison. My hand flew to my neck. There I felt two deep, bleeding bite marks.

That’s when I woke up screaming.

“Samantha? Samantha, wake up! Stop cussing like that, my parents will hear you. Wake up!” Olivia shook me awake. Slowly, I opened my eyes to the three panic-stricken girls who were circled around me. I was drenched in sweat, every part of me shaking. It was a dream. It was all a dream. It had felt so real.

“You were having a nightmare,” Olivia said, stating the obvious. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a dream”

“So much for beauty sleep, right?” She said, trying to crack a joke, but I could see the worry in her eyes.

“Well, beauty sleep couldn’t have helped you much anyway.”

The actual dance looked exactly like the one in my dream, just our regular old gym, except for the banner. You could still smell the usual mix of sweat and feet. I was trying to shake off the paranoia I was feeling after that dream, but it was no use. I kept catching myself scanning the crowd. Slowly, I began to loosen up, but I didn’t let my guard down. When a slow song started up, I sat down to catch my breath. My eyes wandered, taking in the ridiculous scene. Everyone seemed to have someone to dance with, and those who didn’t wandered around dejectedly. My gazed floated toward the “A Dream Come Tue” banner, and I saw who was standing under it. I froze. My heart stopped, my veins frozen with fear. My first impulse was to turn and run. Standing there, underneath the banner was my worst nightmare, literally. He caught my eye and started to come toward me.

“Hey!” he said, casually strolling up.

“Have we met?” I asked. My voice was little more than a strangled whisper.

“Only in your dreams” I tried to laugh, but the laugh seemed to stick in my throat. The terrible irony of the statement made me break out in a new wave of cold, fearful sweat. He seemed to sense my discomfort.

“Hey, I know we just met, but do you want to dance?” He gave me a tentative smile, not a fang in sight.

“Sure,” I replied, willing my brain to believe my eyes. He’s not a vampire, don’t be crazy. I told myself this over and over.

“Great,” he smiled wider this time. No fangs. My eyes found the banner again “A Dream Come True?” I thought, “Let’s hope not.”

[mod edit: double spacing]
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#6 Bella Catarina

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Posted 03 February 2007 - 08:42 AM

To Remember

It was early morning when she saw it again. The birds had just woken up and were chirping for joy because the heat of the day had not yet come. The air was cool and still possessed the same smell that she could remember from all those years ago. A smell which she couldn’t place exactly, but then again never pondered to a great extent. It had never really mattered the smell of the place, or why it was that smell and temperature that early in the morn. Everything was the same as it always was. So very much so that she felt the need to hold onto something so that she wouldn’t shake so badly.

“Stop here, Hank,” she said quietly to her husband in the driver’s seat. “I can walk from here.” He nodded purposefully and she opened the car door to let herself out just as the vehicle halted near the entrance to a retirement village located in the Texas hill country.

Sticking her hands into her pockets, she began to walk down the gravel road, past the trailer home parking lot, the two buildings that she had never known the purpose of, and towards the stretch of path that to one side held a fenced off ravine and to the other accommodated the recreation hall surrounded everywhere by trees. Closing her eyes, she could picture the large room for dances and potlucks, the heated pool and hot tub, the laundry room, and the pool’s dressing rooms where everyone showered because of the constant hot water. She could see the rows of bookshelves that always housed books and out of date videos in the large main room. Near the piano and across from the kitchenette, she could envision one of the large puzzles that the community was forever trying to figure out set on a long oak table. Close to the front door and next to the kitchenette there would be a charity bin and giveaway table. More and more flashed across the panels of her mind, boggling her and causing a lump to form in her throat. Line dances, bridge games, ice-cream socials… So many things there for her to remember.

Collecting herself, she continued on the road, passing more trees and trailer homes. There was soon a fork in the road. Two ways led more to the right and one still forward. To the right, but still in close proximity to the path leading straight, she remembered a couple of the houses. On one side there was a house that still had a “No Dogs” sign planted firmly in the ground, and on the other a mannequin greeted any passers by from her place next to the door. In front of these houses, next to the recreation hall, a trailer was situated right in front of the hall’s bike rack. She could almost see herself as an eleven year old, hopping onto her bike after a swim in the pool, and traveling at top speed past her older self and flying home; wet hair streaming in the wind. And again she could see herself coming from home, turning at the fork towards the right side, and calling hello to the resident in the farthest house before continuing on to explore already charted but adored lands. Turning once more to the recreation hall, she could picture herself racing her sister home; her on a bike, little sister on foot. She always won, but sister had never seemed to mind. They just laughed and grabbed some sodas from the fridge at home before picking up a book or flipping on the television.

She sighed and kept walking straight, down Irene Drive. There was the trailer that she had always thought looked like a bullet or spaceship, and a few other houses. Over the street bump that she had always been annoyed about riding her bike over, was the house propped up on a deck. Gasping with a newfound memory, she could vaguely remember herself as a three year old in the house opposite, before grandma and grandpa had moved across the street. Sister would never remember this, only her. She alone possessed this memory. In front of the house which she remembered most, she stopped again. She had to. Its memories were so strong… Painted turquoise, with a gravel yard and stone porch leading to the front door, forever unlocked, the flowers in pots hanging from the porch’s roofing were still alive. Those next door were still watering them for her. Next to and almost under a tree, as well as very near the house to the left, was a large slab of the same stone that made up the porch. Mounted to it were rod iron names entwining with each other. Patsy and Bob. Her grandparents’ names. She remembered that there used to be a toy poodles’ name intertwined there as well, Christy, but even easier she thought of the dog’s death at 13 years of living. It had been a sweet little thing; frisky and loving even at old age, except of course on the last occasion that she’s seen her, when the dog had barked at her as a nine or ten year old for hugging her good-bye. She hadn’t known that it was really goodbye, though. At the back of tiny yard, next to the almost as small house, was a water fountain for the birds. It had been uncovered and she really could hear and see the birds playing and singing in it; bright against the grey fountain.

Not being able to bear the birds’ cheerful songs, she walked up the stairs and onto the porch. Leaning against the house was her rusty blue bike, and behind that was the grill where grandma had sometimes cooked vegetables and meat. She fingered one of the hanging flower pots before climbing the short set of stone steps, past the plastic table and chairs that people had sat in on lazy days, and up to the landing. Pulling open the screen door and then the white ‘true’ door, she stepped into the living room to face her memories. The living room was carpeted in white, a television against the far wall, one couch on the right wall near the cordless phone and closest the TV set, and nearest the door to her left and against the windows facing the porch was another couch and a recliner. Behind the recliner, mounted to an opposite wall, was a stereo system. Then there was an opening to the kitchen; an open space just above a counter. On the counter were writing materials, a fruit bowl, and the silver bust of her grandfather that she and sister had put hats on during their visits to pass the long days. Only inches to the right of that was the real entry, revealing the kitchen and dining area. Both sides of the room had windows, there was an island in the middle, the floor was smooth just as it was in the study, and the kitchen had all the amenities. The crystal was kept in the top part of a white cabinet, and the middle part of the cabinet was a mirrored portion at the back. Opposite that cabinet and the tiny dining table was yet another cabinet, its clear opening to the living room housed photos of various family members.

Before moving beyond the kitchen to her grandparents’ room, she darted from the doorway to the right of the front door and glanced into the guest room—the room she’d always stayed in during visits. It was mostly the same, with a low bed and too much closet space along with a chest of drawers covered with pictures and a glass clock much like one in the living room. Leaving the room and sauntering away from her grandma’s collection of birds (not real ones, of course) in their case and the guest room’s little bathroom, she walked through the living room, past the kitchen and laundry area that led to the study, and reached the last room in the house; her grandparents’ room. Doubling back to the wall outside the room, she saw that the embroidered picture of two people on a canoe was still there. Still pushing away memories of this room and the every other place in the house, she went back into the bedroom and smoothed out the down bedspread. Pictures of her father and his two siblings in the 50s and 60s were still there, among others. Turning away from the bed and facing more towards the bathroom at the back of the house, she moved in the direction of the chest of drawers and the closet. The closet knew housed her grandmother’s many outfits, and most likely some of her grandfather's, but the chest of drawers was a mystery to her. Not being the nosy type, but a person immersed in her memories, she pulled out a drawer and picked up an undershirt of her grandfather’s. It was soft, and as she sniffed it she found with joy that it still had that grandpa (or Pampaw, as he was sometimes called) smell. A sweet, comforting smell that she had always treasured. Not being able to bear putting it back, she folded it up and placed it carefully in the pocket of her coat. She closed the drawer and sat down in the middle of the floor, which was identical to the carpet in the living room and guest bedroom, and tried not to let everything get to her. But one certain thing did—it always had, ever since the day it had happened when she was about ten or eleven.

Although her memory of it was fuzzy, she could remember what happened that day. Her whole life had been molded around that day, even though she secretly knew it hadn’t exactly been required. Grandma had sat her down on the couch nearest the kitchen one day during summer. Putting a hand on her shoulder, grandma had begun to speak only slightly jokingly.

“Now Katie, I want you to grow up, get married, and have a child… A boy! I have so many grandchildren and they’re all girls! I—want—a—boy!” Grandma had slapped her thigh a couple of times during the last sentence to prove her point. She had smiled warmly at this. “Yes grandma,” she had answered in delight.

This had had so much impact on her way of life, her ideals. She took it so seriously, maybe too seriously, but she had wanted to please her grandma. Everything seemed to change inside her after that one moment that he grandmother had requested something from her. She had wanted so badly to please her. To make her happy, as well as her warmhearted and kind grandfather. Hugging her knees to her chest, she whispered something to herself before letting out every tear that she had been holding in for all those years. Before crying in mourn for all that she had lost in that bright flash of madness sometimes referred to as reality.

“I couldn’t give her a boy.”

And that is where Hank found her later, hugging her knees to her chest, eyes bloodshot, and in one hand also clutching her wedding ring. The only thing she had to prove that she’d done a little something to please her grandmother.

This is still a bit rough - I wrote it in one afternoon and haven't put too much editing into it since.

I appreciate any comments you have!

Much Love,
Kat :spinstar:
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#7 *HONEY*


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Posted 03 February 2007 - 10:03 AM

Ft_Louie_Lvr, I corrected it for you :)


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#8 Ft_Louie_Lvr


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Posted 03 February 2007 - 12:28 PM

^Thank You!
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#9 12Bandgeek21


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Posted 03 February 2007 - 04:14 PM

i wrote this short story last year and i'm writing another short story like this to see how much my writing has changed!
it may seem very vague on a lot of details but i left it how it was when i wrote it.


It was the school's annual Winter Wonder Land dance for the juniors. Everyone was jumping and singing to the songs that pounded their ears.

After, about five songs, was a slow song. All the people who didn't have a date to dance with cleared the dance floor.

Shay, looking mighty beautiful, was one of those people.

Shay is absolutely in love with a guy named Jon. She though, that the way he acts around her, he might love her too. But when she had asked Jon if he had loved her, he said no. So she was wrong about it. Or was she?

Truth is Jon actually does love Shay as much as she did. But he had lied to her to when she had asked him that question. He did this because he didn't want to take a risk and screw up their friendship. But as soon as he had told that he didn't love her, he regretted it instantly. He could bear to see her cry. He tried to say he was sorry, but she ran away with her face buried in hands sobbing.

When Shay left the floor, she headed towards the bathroom to clean herself up.

Shay looked in the mirror and saw that her face was red as a lobster from dancing. She got a towel and started to wipe herself when her friend, Cortland, came in.

"Hey Shay! How are you?" Cortland asked.

"Oh, I am ok." Shay replied.

"That's good." She said smirking. '' You will not believe what Kyle just asked me. He had asked me to dance with him the rest of the night. How about you?" She asked.

Shay's vision started to blur. She was crying yet again today about Jon. She had promised her self that she wouldn't cry here. But she couldn't help herself.

"Shay, are you ok? Are you still upset about Jon?" Cortland asked.

Hearing Jon's name made it even worst

Seeing this, Cortland pulled Shay closer to her and hugged her.

"Shay, it's ok. Jon doesn't deserve you for what he had said to you today." Said Cortland, trying to reassure Shay.

"Yeah Cortland, you're right." Shay mumbled." I don't need him right now. I should be having fun!"

With that said Shay left the girls bathroom smiling bright.

Shay headed towards the table where her friends were sitting.

"Hey Shay!" They said. Hannah, Heather, Myriah, Jessica, and Jenny were sitting there drinking punch.

"I wish a guy would ask me to dance." Jenny cried out over the music.

"Yeah, me too." Heather agreed.

"Why should we have to dance with guys?" Hannah asked." Let's just dance the night away with or without them!" Hannah shouted.

"I agree to that!" Shay Smirked.

Shay, raising her glass, said," Cheers to dancing the night away!"

"Cheers!" they shouted.

The slow song ended and they headed towards the dance floor to "Sexyback" by Justin Timberlake.

A few songs later was, yet, another slow song.

The friends cleared the floor tired. But Jenny and Hannah didn't return back to the table.

"Where is Hannah and Jenny?" Jessica asked.

"Oh, I saw Matt ask Hannah to dance and I saw Derick ask Jenny." Myriah replied.

"Cool." Heather said. "I can't believe that the dance is half was over."

"Me either. But we better not waste a moment of it." Shay said.

By the end of the song the friends were pumped to go dancing again. But another slow song played.

"Aw man." Jessica cried, "We wanna dance!"

"Yeah!" Heather said.

"You guys chill, will ya?" Shay asked. "It's just a slow song."

"Um… good point." Jessica said.

They waited and got on the dance floor as soon as the song ended.

"It's about time to do the catwalk, people!" the DJ shouted. "Are you all ready?"

Screams was all they heard.

"Ok then. Now is your chance to shine!" the DJ shouted.

With that said the DJ he played "I'm too sexy". The friends had so much fun. Dancing crazy, walking funky, and falling was all they all.

Song ended and the winner f the catwalk was some popular blonde chick.

"On well." They signed and returned to the table.

Worn out they sat there trying to collect their breath.

A slow song came on and they stayed where they were.

"Man," Shay started, "I'm getting tired of all these slow songs!"

"Me too." Jessica agreed.

All of a sudden everyone's faces went blank but Shay's.

"What are you guys staring at?" Shay asked.

"I think that would be me." said an all to familiar voice.

Shay turned around to see Jon standing, in a tux, with his hands in his pockets.

"Um what are you doing here?" Shay asked.

"I wanted to say I am sorry. What I did today to you was wrong and I would like to make it up to you." He said.

He walked forward and grabbed Shay's hand.

Shay was so stunned she couldn't say anything.

"Would you like to dance with me?" he asked.

Shay's look on her face turned a deep shade of red,

Jon seeing this said, ''I mean only if you want to. I mean, I wouldn't probably—"

"I would love to dance with you." Shay interrupted.

"Ok." Jon said.

Still holding onto Shay's hand, Jon guided her towards the dance floor.

Jon placed his hands on Shay's hips, and she placed her hands on the back on his neck, with about six inches between them.

They were quiet for about 25 seconds before Shay said, "Jon, tell why are you here?"

Jon was taken back by surprised.

"Well, like I said, I wanted to say sorry." Jon said.

"Well, you have already said that." Shay said coldly.

Jon stopped swaying and stood there looking into Shay's eyes.

Shay started to get nervous and started to play with the hairs on the back of Jon's neck.

"I know I did." Jon answered, "I really needed to tell that."

He started to sway again.

"Well you did. " Shay said, turning her gaze from Jon's eyes to the ground. "Now will you please leave?"

Jon stopped swaying and took his hands away from Shay's hips.

"No." he answered. "I will no leave."

"Why not?" Shay asked taking her hands away from Jon's neck.

"There's something I must tell you about what I said yesterday." Jon answered.

"What is that?" Shay asked.

Jon placed his hands back on Shay's hips. She placed her hands back on Jon's neck and they stared to sway again.

"I lied." Jon said.

"About what?" Shay asked.

Jon, obviously getting nervous, ran one of his hands threw his hair.

"About me not…" Jon stopped speaking and swaying.

Jon looked down at Shay and looked into her eyes.

"About you not what?" Shay asked.

"Um… about me not… loving you." Jon mumbled.

Time felt like it had stopped in its tracks.

"You actually," Shay mumbled surprised, "love me?"

"Yes." Jon said.

Jon leaned his head forward and kissed Shay.

Jon pulled back to see what Shay's reaction was and was shocked. She looked like she wanted more of what he just did.

Jon, reading the look on Shay's face, leaned back to kiss her again.

Jon's hands shot from Shay's hips to the middle of Shay's back and, gently, pulled her towards him.

Shay wrapped her arms around Jon's neck and pulled him even closer.

Shay felt Jon's hands start to explore her back, with their tongues entwined together tight.

Jon then felt Shay's hands start to explore his hard muscles and relaxed. His hands seemed to have a mind of their own and started to go up her shirt and up to her bra … he pulled his lips away from hers, and leaned his head on hers grasping for air.

Jon did this because he feels that it is wrong for a man to touch a lady in certain places without her permission first.

"I am sorry." Jon said breathing hard.

"What is there to be sorry about?" Shay asked.

"Well, my hands were wondering in places that they—," Jon said.

"Jon, you are such a gentleman," Shay said, "but I really liked what your hands were doing."

"Really?" Jon asked.

"Yeah." She answered.

"Ok, shall we continue?" Jon asked.

"Yes, please!" she answered quickly.

They started to kiss again. The song ended and now they don't really care what was playing.

"Hey! There they're… oh."

Jon and Shay pulled apart and looked to see who had said that. It was Jenny and Hannah with their dates.

"Um… I see you two made up. That's good." Hannah stuttered.

Jon and Shay just looked at each other.

"Yeah I guess we did." Jon said.

"Well don't let us stop you all." Jenny said. "Come on Derick let's go dance."

Jenny, Hannah, and their dates started to leave.

"Hey wait!" Shay shouted at them.

They stopped and turned around.

"We are coming with you." Shay said.

Jon turned his head towards Shay.

"We are?" Jon whispered.

"Yeah. Why not?" Shay asked.

"Um… I dunno. Ok let's go dance." Jon said.

Jon pulled Shay to where Hannah, Jenny, and their dates wre dancing and started to dance too. Soon after that all of Shay's other friends found them and danced in the big group as well.

The End

what do you all think?

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#10 Ranma


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Posted 03 February 2007 - 06:56 PM

i like your story shay it's good :a_smil08:
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#11 12Bandgeek21


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Posted 03 February 2007 - 07:01 PM

i started to it just now, and i found a LOT of mistakes.


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#12 princess2293


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Posted 03 February 2007 - 07:55 PM

Title: Untitled
Topic: Historical Fiction

“But Mama!” says Constance. “Mama, I don’t want to have to have to pick the weeds out of the garden again! Why can’t Johnny do it? He hasn’t done it all year!”

It is the year 1692 and Constance is a twelve-year-old girl living in Salem, Massachusetts. Her and her family live on a farm in the town. Constance has never really been well liked or accepted; she’s never hung out with Ann Putman and her crowd.

Ann Putman was another twelve-year-old girl; a very spoiled girl. Everybody knew that she was the “leader” and to stay out of her way.

“Because,” Mama says, bringing her back to reality, “it’s your job. So get moving!”

Constance goes outside, really not wanting to, and starts to hoe the garden. While she’s outside, Constance spots Ann and her crowd, heading toward the church, where Ann’s cousin, Betty’s dad is the pastor. There’s been rumors going around that Ann and Betty and all their friends, every Friday night, were going to the parsonage, where Betty lives, to visit Tibuta, the family slave, while the Reverend and his wife, Annie, were out and about.

“Constance!” I hear. “Constance?”

“Yea, Mama?” she asks.

“Why aren’t you working? You have only about twenty-five minutes until it’s going to get completely dark outside! Get moving!”

“Yes, Mama,” she say, realizing that when she had been thinking about Ann and Betty that I had stopped moving.

It had been about twenty-five minutes, and Constance was finally done working in the garden. She walked in the house, taking one last glace over to the Church. She saw a light on, in the parsonage, and about six girls sitting in a circle, including Ann and Betty, listening to Tibuta talk. Constance thought the rumors weren’t true! But she now had proof that they were.

Little did she know what would happen in the following days.


Constance and her Mama went to town to get some groceries from Town Center, the center of town, where people from the town sell their homegrown food. They were surprised with the tangle of people that were at Jon’s Pub. They had never seen so many people there. Not even Mama, even with her thirty-six years of age, had never seen people backed out the door.

“What’s going on here, Mama?” asked Constance.

“I’m not sure, sweetheart. Want to go and find out for me? Just squeeze on through all the people.”

Constance pushed through all the people, and, finally, got into the building. And what she saw shocked her. There, on the floor, rolling all around was none other than Ann and Betty, and their friends, Beatrice, Sarah, Cotton, and Bridget. The whole lot of six were on the floor rolling and putting their bodies in weird positions; one barked like a dog; another flapped her arms, like a bird; and those who were left were acting like they were being choked.

“It’s her!” shouts Ann, obviously the leader, pointing to Rebecca Howard. “She’s making us move like this! It’s all her fault! She’s signed the Devil’s Book!”

All the people just stared. Constance’s Mama just stared with her mouth open. How could Rebecca Howard, a nice, elderly grandma be a witch? Everybody knew her, and she was so nice!

Rebecca was taken to jail. In the next week, six more people were taken to jail. They included: Sarah Owen, the town beggar, and her son, Richard, Sarah Clusky, Tim Roberts, and his wife Becky, and Robert Skuly.


No!! Mama has been accused of being a witch! It’s been about two weeks, and already about one hundred people are sitting in jail! Just because of how they act, look, and if their poor! Even little Richard, Sarah Owen’s son! He’s only five!

Many people are starting to doubt the girl’s accusations. Even our old governor, Gilroy, has been accused! The girls “convulsions” as Mama calls it, have happened all over town- even in church!

A couple of people have already been hung, after going through a trial, at Gallows Hill, including Salem’s old pastor. He said the Lord’s Prayer, which is something that a witch, it has been said, cannot do. But even that act could not save him.

I don’t like all these things going on. I hate it even more now that Mama has been accused. I’m so glad that I don’t hang out with Ann and Betty. And to think that I wanted to! I would be out there with them, looking and acting ridiculous.


Mama was hung about two weeks after being accused. My father, my five brothers and sisters, and I are still sad. Five of the six girls have all come up in front of the church and told everybody that it all was made up. To think: all those people who were hung on Gallows Hill were innocent! Including my Mama.

All of the girls are either married, or they moved away. As for our family, we couldn’t stay in Salem. It was just too hard for us. We moved a couple towns away.

We have just received a letter saying that we should go back home, to Salem. The note says: “Ann has decided something, and would like you to attend. Be at Salem Puritan Church, July Sixth, 1693, 1 PM, or just stay after Sunday morning service. Ann really would like your attendance, especially for those who’s family members or loved ones have been hung.”

Father says that we should go. So we are. Hopefully, Ann’s apologizing to us and she’ll ask for our forgiveness. The only girl who hasn’t come before the Church and apologized is Ann.

After so long, that’s what all of us should get. We should get some closure to know, just to at least know that they weren’t real, from the last person in the group. Finally, we will get closure. Finally.

Please tell me what you think! :]

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#13 readerritika4u


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Posted 04 February 2007 - 05:04 AM

TITLE - The future is a mystery....or is it?
The future is a mystery… or is it?

My crystal-clear deep blue beautiful almond shaped eyes went round as I absorbed the full truth of what I was hearing.

I was listening to my best friend, Tina Marella’s high – pitched, piercing voice raving and ranting on the phone. The problem was with what she was saying.

“….and you know what? Then this girl told me I’m a stuck up, prissy snob and what–not. How can they insult me…after all you yourself told me…”

You get the picture. What was wrong was that I had dreamed the exact replica of the scene Tina was currently describing, with colourful language (100) and vivid imagery, last night. It wasn’t even a resemblance, it was explicit.

As my mind was full to the brim with fantasy-enriched novels with extraordinary celestial, magical scenes in which the impossible could happen, I at once amused myself with the thought that I was psychic.

Imagine my shock when it turned out to be true.

I was flabbergasted. At night, whoever last person I saw, that person’s future would visit me in my dreams. And this was further confirmed by that person calling me and lamenting about it.

I was simply petrified. Could I carry such a dragging weight on my fragile, dainty (200) shoulders?

One more thing, my name’s Saysha Saklani.

“No, can we have it like this?” asked Tina.

We were at my house working on our science project. Ruchika Dimoshe, a pale white-faced frail girl who was a voracious drawer but didn’t do that well in academics was also with us.

After a weary hour, we finally completed the project.

As we left, the last person I saw before collapsing on my bed was a glimpse of Ruchika.

Little did I know that this would change my life forever.

That night, I dreamt something horrible about Ruchika. So horrible that it was just unjustified to stop my (300) self from telling her.

I cornered her after school.

“You’re going to fail in tomorrow’s exam,” I told her flatly in a monotonous voice.

It was incredible, she blanched and after I informed her of my ‘supernatural’ powers, she believed me and she was so petrified that she was literally trembling from head to toe.

But, never for a second did I think that she was so scared that she would do something as drastic as she did the next day.

I learnt about it only afterwards. After school broke up, the news spread like a forest – fire that Ruchika (400) Dimoshe had been sent to the principal’s office.

As soon as I heard the name, I stiffened. This couldn’t have anything to do with….

I sprinted to the principal’s office as fast as my legs would take me and skidded to a halt outside as I saw a heartbroken Ruchika standing there.

As she looked up, her crestfallen expression changed to one of fury and rage and she had to work hard to stop herself from rushing at me.

“You stupid girl! You told me I was about to fail, so in fear, I cheated and now the principal said (500) she’d fail me in this exam. And if I fail in this exam, I can’t study ahead. I hate you!! Why did you need to come along and ruin my great life?” she yelled, angry tears spilling from her eyes and rolling down her cheeks.

That day was the worst day of my life.

Ruin my great life.

The words pricked my guilty conscience. I had deleted someone’s life. DELETE.

All because of me someone would not succeed in her life. It was worse than to kill someone because then, they wouldn’t suffer.

“Hey, Tina. Coming for a sleepover?” I exclaimed.

“Sure,” she replied.

We enjoyed jumping on the bed; trying out each other’s clothes and doing all the things kids do on a sleepover.

The trouble began at night.

It was late in the night and a cool, refreshing breeze blew the orange satin curtains around the room. The glass windows crashed against the window-sill with a deafening ‘THUD’. I caught a glimpse of the pale bluish – white moonlight shimmering on me and as it illuminated my face, I closed my eyes, my long black delicate eyelashes brushing the soft, fluffy pillow.

I saw flashes of happenings. Tina walking…Tina crying…Tina standing in the front of the whole school crying… the whole school laughing at her.

I woke up with a start, drenched in sweat, the loud, raucous peal of the terrible laughter echoing in my mind.

I couldn’t help it. I told her, the biggest mistake of my life.

Tina rebelled and went and told the principal the whole story. The principal found it so splittingly funny that she started laughing. And soon, the whole school joined her. Tina started bawling.

And my dream came true in the worst way possible.

“You are evil, terrible, horrible. You embarrassed me in front of the whole school. Now I’ll suffer, kids will tease me, I’ll become unhappy and a scaredy – baby.

My life is ruined. I hate you. You are not even my friend,” was only a part of what Tina cried at me afterwards.

I hated myself. My life is ruined.

I had ruined someone’s life, again.


As I was traipsing home, I noticed a vibrant, new fair near school.

As luck would have it, mom who (600) fancied a lively and vivacious atmosphere dragged me to it. “You have to come,” she said vehemently.

Afterwards, I realized that the fair helped me make the decision of my life.

It was ordinary enough, only that it had an eccentric, capricious air around it.

“Wow, look at that,” exclaimed mum bombastically.

“Look at what?” I inquired acidly.

“Oh, come on Saysha. Why are you feeling so bad for Ruchika?”

Because I did it, I thought silently. My mom didn’t know about Tina.

“I’m just feeling sorry for her,” I answered.

“Let’s go to that parrot fortune tent,” I added.

I’d always been interested in fortune (700) telling. Also, I wanted to know how this fortuneteller and his parrot swindled people. Especially, as I myself could future tell.

It was vast and spacious with plenty of blinding lights. The false bearded (or so I suspected) man was brightly dressed in a white dhoti and a blinding yellow shirt. He had a few wrinkles on his face and his face was screwed up in concentration as he was apparently fortune telling.

Some kind of great, mesmerizing power seized me. I could feel it coming from the barren, dusty ground, flowing smoothly through my body with an overwhelming energy and I had an intense desire to go and scream at the man.

“You can’t tell people’s fortune, you fraud, (800) but I can,” was precisely what I wanted to yell at the poor man who could barely make two ends meet.

After the fair had shut down, I lingered near the fortuneteller’s tiny, dinghy tent and sidled up to him.

The words popped out of my mouth, “Can you really tell people’s fortunes?”

He stared at me for a long time. There was a deathly silence all around. It was penetrated only by the crunch of my sandals stepping on a dry brown leaf. The bright lights, the light chatter of the ecstatic fair people all seemed to die down.

I was mortified. How could have I asked such an (900) unruly, insulting question?

I was stunned by his answer, “Yes.”

Obviously, he was lying. A blatant liar.

“You can?” I questioned slowly, the shocking truth sinking deep into my mind.

“I can,” he replied patiently. “Would you like me to do it for you?”

“No,” I professed promptly, because I was dead scared.

My voice reverberated through the entire deserted landscape. It seemed deserted even though the erratic chatter of the fair people was been carried to me.

A gentle, lopsided smile curled up his lips and he whispered, “I know your name is Saysha Saklani. I know that you can see (1000) the future. I know that you are in the doldrums now.”

I backed away with fear dominating every emotion visible on my face, stumbling only to crash into a green, leafy shrub with pricking, pointed thorns bordering it. They tore into my pulpy flesh but I didn’t care. I deserved it.

“You can do it, too?” the man asked softly.

“Yes,” I started to say but I couldn’t finish it for I was pouring out all my troubles to this strange man. Everything: my powers, Ruchika, Tina, how I had ruined their great lives.

After I had finished, he murmured, “It is easy. Give them up.”

“You mean, give up my powers?” I asked, horrified, hardly daring to believe my ears. I was elated and unhappy at the same time.

“But I can’t-”

“Exactly,” said the man, “why can’t you?”

“Because,” I muttered and I couldn’t continue. I had no answer to his question.

“Let me answer. Because they make you feel special, and that’s what you want. You feel sorry about the people you hurt, but you like it. You LIKE it. Can you say ‘I hate my powers’ placing a hand on your heart?”

I remained silent because I knew I couldn’t. But I wanted to deny this fact. I squabbled with myself trying to prove that I didn’t want my powers.

“You can’t. You are selfish. Give them up. Don’t use them. You use them, you want to see the future. If you don’t want to see the future, they won’t disturb you. It’s your decision, your mistake and your resolution.”

White-hot anger seethed inside me. “How dare you? I wanted your advice, not your rebuke. You – you….”

I took one last look at the man’s sad light gray eyes shaded by the moonlight and strode away.

I didn’t even know his name.

That night I lay awake 15 minutes past Cinderella’s curfew, thinking. Thinking about Ruchika, the pale, happy, satisfied girl and Tina, the fiery, energetic lively girl who was never satisfied.

There was a wide, never-ending gulf between the two. Yet, I had managed to snatch both of their lives and throw them down the drain.

I made my decision with a heavy heart: not to use my powers ever again.

I knew this was the right, though difficult, path. It was not correct to meddle in the future.

The past is history.

The present is a gift.

The future is a mystery.

The future is a mystery with no ‘is it?’ after it.

And it would be best to let it be so.

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#14 jessinia


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Posted 05 February 2007 - 01:14 AM

Ann Putman was another twelve-year-old girl; a very spoiled girl. Everybody knew that she was the “leader” and to stay out of her way.

Did you just read "A Break With Charity" for school? 'because if you did, that's just weird, because I just did too!

Jess the Shocker :o

P.S. Your stories make mine look like crap. Darn you! LoL! Good job, though.
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#15 princess2293


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Posted 05 February 2007 - 09:01 AM

Thanks! And, yeah, I had to write that for school.

Your stories are awesome... you have some up on the fourm now don't you... I think I remember reading one of yours and it was great!

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#16 A real all american girl

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Posted 05 February 2007 - 06:23 PM

Name: The Fading Sun
Genre: Sci-Fi

The Fading Sun
By: Haylee Harrell


Welcome one and all to something that might surprise you shock you, or make you want to run. I hope it does because what you’re about to experience is nothing to love. This life story will make you believe in the unbelievable. This is the story of a Tephy; this is her life, her words, her tears. So let me ask you are you ready to stare straight into the fading sun?

Part One: Smile like Someone’s watching

Has anyone ever told you that your stupid, insolent, or just plain unwanted? I hope not, but if you have your probably like me. I am Tephy Xtran and I am orphan number 7725. If you are like me you probably live in the biggest orphanage in the world which just happens to be named The Angel Orphanage. It’s not like any of us here have an angel, all we have are itchy wool blankets and plain light blue uniforms. This is all we will ever have because are parents all have been killed because of World War III or their fighting in it.

It all started when the army tried to make a weapon of mass destruction and when they tested it thousands were killed and all the land in the United States was turned down. Our food was ruined, our hopes were lost, and everyone was furious. This all created reasons for a third world war. This was all six years ago, and now’s its 3010 and everyone is positive that we will all die before we get to see the end.

Now that you’re caught up to speed, let me tell you the orphanage rules. First, no talking in class actually don't talk ever. Second, absolutely no smiling or any look of happiness. Third, if your grades drop you’re gone! Fourth, no second helpings at breakfast or dinner. Fifth and last, your worthless so when an adult yells at you there just telling you the truth.

Now let me tell you what my rules are. First, talk whenever you want. Second, smiling like someone’s watching. Third, who cares about grades? Fourth, eat all you want even if you have to steal the food from the kitchen. Fifth and last, you are not worthless so when an adult yells at you block them out. Maybe this is why they call me the ‘robot.’ I show no fear, because the truth is…I don’t care.
Part Two: A Boy Named Kingston

I woke up that morning to see my boyfriend sitting by my bed. I rolled my eyes and leaned over to eye him.

“What are you doing here Kingston?” I smiled.

“Well I came to give you this…” Kingston handed a blueberry muffin that I knew he stole which made me wink at him. Then he continued, “And to tell you that we have a new headmaster.”

I jotted up and my mouth gaped open, exposing some of my half eaten muffin. Kingston had to be lying; we’ve had the same army general headmaster for six years. He was strict, blunt, ugly, and stupid. What am I going to do for fun when he is gone?

“Who is replacing him?” I asked.

Kingston shrugged and replied,

“Whoever it is brought a whole truck full of foreign food and he’ll be introduced in an assembly in twenty minutes.”

My brain started twisted. What kind of person would possibly have foreign food? Is the war over? Does the United States finally have an ally? Can I finally leave this orphanage and live a normal 23rd life? My heart starting scattering and I jumped out of my small bed which caused me to run into Kingston. He just laughed as he placed his arms around me. As he smiled deep into my eyes I leaned in and gave him a passionate kiss.

“Maybe I should tell you stuff like this more often.” Kingston laughed as we parted.

I eyed him and whispered breathlessly back,

“Go away I have to go change.”

Kingston just pulled me closer and I gave him one last loving kiss before I pushed him out of the cold cement room. Once Kingston was gone my heart lurched, he was the only one I have ever had. He was my heart and without him, I cannot live. I sighed and changed into my uniform. I shrugged to the mirror and brushed out my hair. I was changed in no time and I glided towards my door. Just as I thought, when I opened the door there was Kingston waiting for me.

I smiled mysteriously at him before a harsh voice came over the speaker and announced,

“All orphans to room 765 in the north section. I expect all orphans there in two minutes, or punishments.”

I grabbed Kingston’s hand for comfort, and we scuttled off to room 765.

Part Three: The Suspicious Too Happy and Too Fat Man.

Kingston and I made it to room 765 with one minute to spare. Kingston and I stood up in the back, on a day like today I wish this room had chairs. But as the old headmaster used to say, ‘standing reminds you that you are no one.’ He sounds charming doesn’t he? I couldn’t think about him any longer as the room became silent and my gaze moved towards the front.

I saw a twenty something guy standing in front, he had short black hair and he was considerably fat. How could someone get so fat on the food America is surviving on? The thing that scared me even more then this fat man was the fact that he was smiling. This has to be some cruel joke. Then I noticed he was talking,

“Hello I am Jacob Crawford, please call me Jake and I am your new headmaster. I want some things to change around here; just because we are fighting a war doesn’t mean our lives are over!”

I dry heaved. Who does this guy think he is tricking? I stomped my foot and yelled,

“Hate to break it to yeah Jacob but there is a war going on. I’m not just going to forget because you came in here too happy and too fat.”

Everyone snickered and Jake smiled harder, forcing it. He winked at me and Kingston pulled me towards him. I didn’t push him away and Jacob stated,

“I want to get to know you all one on one, especially you little lady.”

Little Lady?

“So starting with the Carmel Appleton.”

I saw a small girl stand up and walked slowly towards the stage.

“Thank you and I plan to see you all within three days.” Jacob finished as he put an arm around a scared looking Appleson.

I stormed out of the room and walked furiously towards first period with Kingston grimacing at my side.
The whole day I had to deal with person after person going to these one on one meetings with Jacob. But as I walked through the hallways I noticed that there seemed to be less people around. I stopped in the dark hallway and I just stood there. Usually I would be pushed away by a mob of kids, who were walking around, but I stood there and no one even came close to touching me. I sighed and Kingston whispered softly into my ear,

“What’s wrong?”

I smiled softly and replied,


I turned around and peered up at Kingston’s tall figure. I reached my arms up and stood on the balls of my feet to place them on Kingston’s shoulders. As I stared him deeply into the eyes I heard headmaster Jacob call over the speaker,

“Orange Fortson, please report to my office.”

I blinked and looked up at the speaker eyeing it suspiciously.

“I guess you don’t like this whole idea do you?” Kingston asked.

I just pressed my fingers against his lips and turned away. The rest of the day passed by quickly and soon enough I found myself in my bed forcing my eyes to close and for my body to relax, so I could sleep.

Part Four: The Painful Truth

I woke up the next day to the screeching sound of the speaker asking for,

“Sed Williamson.”

I sighed; Jacob was calling people down all night.

“We are almost done people a whole day ahead of time.” Jacob mused

I rolled my eyes and sat up in my hard bed. Soon enough he would be on me, even worse he will be on Kingston. What could Jacob possibly be telling people? Maybe he has news on their parents, if so I don’t want to go. My parents just left me behind like nothing and I don’t even remember them so I really don’t care for them. They are nothing to me, except an empty part of my heart.

I flipped my legs around the side of my bed and stood up. I walked across the room towards my clothes and picked them up. After I was changed and moving I walked out of my room and towards the metal foods room. I took a deep breath and prepared my ears. The foods room is always loud, full, and smelly you know like B.O. Once I was prepared I opened the door and starred out at…nothing.

The foods room was quiet, barley filled and yet it still smelled. I found myself just standing there waiting for someone to pinch me and tell me that everybody is in an assembly or something. I shut my eyes harshly but once I opened them again I still saw the same thing. This time though I spotted a nervous Kingston, this is when I picked up my feet and walked cautiously towards him. When I was close enough I saw his eyes jot away from mine. This caught me by surprise but I didn’t show it.

“Have you noticed this place? It’s like empty.”

Kingston just nodded and I asked,

“What is wrong with you?”

He just looked up and starred into my eyes then he stated,

“We have to…”

“Kingston Yelling.” Jacob announced.

“We have to what?” I asked once the speaker turned off.

Kingston just looked me in the eyes and I caught a trace of something that seemed to be fear. He just shrugged kissed me on the cheek and left. Something was wrong with him and I was going to find out what it was. I wasn’t even going to wait, I stalked out of the foods room and I headed straight towards the headmasters lair. No seriously it’s called his lair, isn’t that just creepy by itself?

I thought about this topic until I felt someone was watching me. I slowed my steps, but I tried to act normal. Then I pretended to drop something, as I leaned down to pick this thing up I looked behind me. There was no one there and yet I still felt unsafe and my heart was still pounding unnaturally. I stood back up and I place my right hand over my heart, while taking a deep breath.

I continued to walk, staying as alert as possible. This is how I heard them talking,

“Were almost done.” A strange voice whispered.

I stopped dead cold and listened harder,

“This is the best plan you have ever had Jake. I mean no one will be looking for these kids and no one will even notice their gone.” A nasally voice laughed.

“It did help that the government forced all those parents into the war, causing them to send their kids here.” The first voice pointed out.

I turned towards where I was hearing this conversation. I tip toed to towards a slightly opened door and peaked in. I saw two very fat and short men, who were both blonde, but one was way more muscled and the other was skinny. I only recognized one man in the room and it was the new headmaster Jacob. He was sitting in a tall black chair smoking a cigar. How did he get a cigar? They have been outlawed for over five years.

“Yes, yes I know I am brilliant but isn’t even better that we even get to brainwash these kids. It’s going to be amazing to see these kids who will be soon enough the perfect soldiers fight against their own family.” Jacob puffed.

“How much are the Japanese paying you for these kids?” The skinny man asked.

“Millions, plus all the food I need.” Jacob boasted.

My heart stopped, and my mind moved to Kingston and the look on his face when he left me. He must have known, they why did he come? I felt tears gather in my eyes and as I blinked I found myself being pushed against a wall. When I looked up I saw the muscular guy laughing at me.

“I found myself a little mousy.” He smiled.

Jacob and skinny came outside too see me and I glared at them.

“Oh wow isn’t it the little trouble maker. How much have you heard?”

I ignored the throbbing in my head and replied bravely,

“Enough dear Jacob.”

This caused my new headmaster to pout and he whispered something, I couldn’t hear, to the muscular guy. The muscular man nodded happily and turned towards me, picking up his foot he kicked it right into my gut. The pain took over my body as he kicked me again and again, until I noticed my own blood.

“No more! She’ll make a great solider, take her to the others.” Jacob smiled.

As the skinny guy picked me up, everything went fuzzy and black before I could fight back.

Part Five: The Fading Sun

I woke up in a room with no light, no carpet, nothing but me. I tried to move but I found I was trapped in some kind of box. I felt the tears coming up again and I let them out. My breaths became shorter and I found myself hyperventilating. I can’t take this, I really can’t take this. I shut my eyes and started singing a song that Kingston used to sing to me.

“The night might be fading baby, but that doesn’t mean we have to part. Your hand in mine, your heart keeping you alive. This is all we need right now, ourselves and a chance to chase the night away. Together…”

“Nothing in our way, but the problems that we have to face.” I heard a soft voice continue.

I then opened my eyes too see him, outside of my box…smiling.

“How did you get away?” I asked looking around for the three evil men.

“Luck, come on we have to get out of here!” Kingston nodded.

He pressed a giant bright blue button and the box that was containing me opened up. I didn’t waste time as I jumped out of the chamber. Kingston smiled at me and I asked,

“Why were you so nervous earlier? And what were you going to say?”

Kingston looked down and answered,

“I was going to say we need to talk. Then I was going to give you this but I don’t know if you’ll like it.”

I reached out my hand and placed it on his cheek. He looked up and I smiled warmly at him. He then reached into his pocket and grabbed a small box. I grabbed it and opened it too find a homemade bracelet. It was my two favorite colors, blue and red with sparkles on it. I smiled and slipped it on my slim wrist. I then looked up at Kinston and I grabbed him and kissed him to show him how much I loved it.

Before we parted I heard Jacob’s voice and I stepped back. Kingston nodded and we ran as quietly as possible out of the door. We didn’t know where we were going but we were going there together, hand in hand. At that moment everything became quiet and all I could hear was mine and Kingston’s hearts beating.

We turned corner after corner until we heard someone following us. I didn’t need to turn around to know it was Jacob. Luckily we reached the front door to the orphanage. I took a breath of relief and smiled…inside and out. I looked at Kingston and he kissed me on last time before we opened the door. Together we pulled the giant door open and what I saw shocked me, and sent chills down my spine.

There was nothing in front of us. No buildings, no streets, no grass, and no plants. All there was in front of us was dirt, for miles. I looked around as I heard a sinister laugh behind us.

“I’m all you have kids.” Jacob pointed out.

I clasp my hand tighter with Kingston and I looked at him. We both stared eye to eye and we both had tears streaming down our faces.

“I love you, whatever happens remember that.” Kingston whispered.

I nodded and replied,

“Nothing will ever separate us. I won’t let it happen.”

Even though Jacob was behind us, I fell into Kingston’s embrace and I dried my eyes. Then together both Kingston and I starred bravely into the fading sun.


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#17 Cabot~Fan


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Posted 05 February 2007 - 07:13 PM

Oh my gosh HayHay! At first I was a little worried, since I usually don't read futuristic stories, but this was so good!!! Is that it??? *pouts* With an ending like that... wow. I loved it!

~Chelsie ♥

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#18 A real all american girl

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Posted 05 February 2007 - 07:59 PM

Oh my gosh HayHay! At first I was a little worried, since I usually don't read futuristic stories, but this was so good!!! Is that it??? *pouts* With an ending like that... wow. I loved it!

~Chelsie ♥

Oh thank you......I wrote this a little while ago for my Creative Writing class!!!! Okay so yes that is the ending....You have to decide what happens to the future! But I might make another short story to continue it on!

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#19 Cabot~Fan


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Posted 05 February 2007 - 08:13 PM

Wow, I would be afraid to write something like that for my writing classes.

The only thing I ever think of is little boys who play poker. *sighs*


~Chelsie ♥

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#20 *HONEY*


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Posted 06 February 2007 - 06:38 PM

You used my name!! :D:D

-xx tephy

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#21 A real all american girl

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Posted 07 February 2007 - 05:26 PM

You used my name!! :D:D

-xx tephy

Yeah this is the story in which i used your cool futristic name!!!! He He!

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#22 LadyMMac


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Posted 07 February 2007 - 09:10 PM

Hey Tephy, can we post stories that we've done in the past? I have one that I did for a contest awhile back, but I'd appreciate more CC on it, because I'm trying to figure out what stories to use for a writing scholarship I'm applying for.

Just wondering :)
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#23 *HONEY*


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Posted 08 February 2007 - 10:08 AM

By all means Mags, by all means. I'll even critique it for ya, not that I am any good, but I can try...

Lmao. =]

-xx tephy

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#24 LadyMMac


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Posted 08 February 2007 - 04:47 PM

Yay! *cheers like a maniac*

I'll try to post it soon-ish. I am currently sick and it hurts to sit up, let alone go find it...

But yeah, I'll post it, most definitely.

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#25 lele2415


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Posted 08 February 2007 - 05:50 PM

I wrote this a while back for school, and i just wanted to see what other people thought of it.

Genre: Fiction

Brian rushed into his house, eager to show his father his award winning poem.

“Dad! Look at this!” he exclaimed, only to stop short at the sight of his empty house. Brian’s face fell, and he walked dejectedly to his room. He had been hoping that his dad would be home for once, but he knew now that he shouldn’t have had high hopes. His father was a workaholic – always typing away on his computer during the few times he was home.

With a sigh, Brian pulled out his old, worn notebook and began writing. Whenever he was sad or overwhelmed, he would write. He would write poetry, stories, memoirs, and anything else that came into his head. Although his father didn’t approve of him writing poetry (he thought it was a waste of time), it made him feel better. Getting his thoughts down onto paper made him feel calm, yet at the same time powerful, like he could influence the world with just the words written on those pages. Brian wrote for several hours that night, losing himself in his poem.


Mr. Mullberger arrived around ten o’clock, wondering where his son was. As he walked past Brian’s room, he felt the subtle feeling of guilt that he always felt upon seeing his son. He paused in the doorway, reflecting. He smiled a little at the ever familiar notebook that Brian was always writing in. He remembered that he had had a similar one when he was younger, although he definitely didn’t write poetry in it. He had always preferred to write articles and stories. Still, Mr. Mullberger knew that he had many things in common with his son, but they never had the opportunity to discuss them.

He tried as hard as he could to be a good father, but he could never get past the sorrow the sight of his son’s face caused him. This feeling was the reason he stayed late at the office, burrowing himself into his work. Mr. Mullberger was a very successful editor for the New York Times. When he was younger, he covered hard hitting news overseas, but when he met his soon to be wife, he realized he needed to stop traveling and start a family. He moved back to New York, settled down, and soon became promoted to editor.

He had always had time for his family, before it happened. He remembered fondly the days when he would entertain his son and wife with stories of his old days, working in the center of an international crisis. He knew that those days were now over.


Brian felt someone’s gaze on him, and he looked up to see his father looking at him with a far away look in his eyes. Brian knew that look well. He also knew what happened in its aftermath.

Just as he expected, after a few moments his dad’s eyes filled with tears, and he turned away, striding quickly into his room and slamming the door. Brian looked down, closing his eyes briefly at the familiar pain. His mom had been the center of both of their lives. He had been only eight when she died, but it had torn both of their worlds apart. Brian and his dad had handled it in different ways. Brian could barely understand that his mom was gone forever, and his father was too full of sorrow to be with his son. Instead, he had shut himself off completely, hiring a nanny and leaving all the parenting work to her.

Brian couldn’t count the number of times he had wished that his father would be there with him, that they would be able to talk to each other about it and have a real conversation for once. He looked back on the days before the incident, when he would sit across from his dad and watch him write an article, stopping often to discuss it with his small son. That had been around the time that Brian’s dream of becoming a writer had begun. He had looked up to his father, like most young boys, and had seen the many similarities between them.

Brian also remembered the numerous times he had been caught in this situation – wanting so badly to go to his father and talk about it, but being too afraid to. This time, he resolved to do something about it. He picked up his notebook, and opened it to the emotional poem he had written earlier about the relationship between him and his father. Before he could think it over one more time, he walked across the hall to his father’s room. He knocked on the door, and when there was no reply, pulled it open. His father was sitting at his desk, typing something on his computer.

“Dad?” Brian asked

When there was no response, he walked over to the desk and set down his notebook. As he turned to leave, his father turned and said his name.



Brian left the room and walked across the hall, telling himself that it was the right thing to do.


Brian woke up the next morning, dreading the confrontation he knew had to be coming. As he stepped into the kitchen, he saw his father sitting at the table, eating a bagel and drinking coffee. He looked up when Brian walked into the room, and surprisingly, he smiled. Hesitantly, Brian walked to the table and sat down.

“We need to talk about this poem of yours.” His father said.

Brian ducked his head, bracing himself for a lecture.

“Son, I know I haven’t been here for you a lot recently, but I want you to know that from now on I will.” His father said gently.
Brian lifted his head and smiled. He knew his father wasn’t the best at expressing his feelings, but to hear those few words made Brian happier than he had ever felt in along time.

Edited by *HONEY*, 16 February 2007 - 10:36 AM.
Double spacing. :)

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#26 LadyMMac


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Posted 08 February 2007 - 08:30 PM

Hmm...I like it. The dialogue seems a bit lacking (not bad, just not a lot of it) and it seems a little abrupt, but overall, good job.

But I think maybe you should have double spaced. It would have made it easier to read ;)

Good luck and great job,

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#27 lele2415


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Posted 09 February 2007 - 11:09 PM

Thanks! :) I kind of realized how abrupt it was, but there was a size limit for the assignment.
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#28 michael_n_mia


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Posted 11 February 2007 - 08:43 PM

How Valentine's Day Came to be

In the Heavens world, every angel was good and calm. But there was one angel who was evil. She has a terrific boyfriend named St. Patick. This angel's name was St. Valentine. Valentine A.K.A Val, thinks that all single people sucked because she thinks they are never going to be as lucky as she is. She decided to make all the singles notice that. She worked for a year. She planned it secretly from everyone, including her boyfriend. Expecially her boyfriend.

One day, she was walking down the block. Val was unaware of Patrick following her because she thought up of a genius plan and can't wait to write it all down.

Down at her secret lab, she yelled, "My greatest plan of making all the singles look worse than before exists!!!!!!!"

Of course, Patrick heard it, and he was mad.

On the 14th of February, Val desided to walk down the street with Patrick. She had dressed in a really fancy coat. Patrick was wearing a green tuxedo. Val got a lot of oooh's and ahhh's. "That's what you get if you have a boyfriend. Of course, all of you are just too pathetic to get one."

Patrick had enough.

"You know what? I know you were trying to make all the singles look bad." He said. "This is why I am breaking up with you- in front of the singles."

Val became so mad! She thought and thought of it. She wanted to apoligize to Patrick and all the other singles, but she'll look like a total jerk. Finally she had the right solution. She went to the Heaven State Building and jumped off it. She died and everyone- including the singles- went to her funeral. Every year, on February 14, all the singles would remember how Val made them look bad. They would hate her for what she did. But all the taken ones thought of it as a really merry day. It became known as St. Valentine's Day
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#29 dark angel

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Posted 14 February 2007 - 08:11 AM

Great! That is a nice story michael n mia. :D


In my Eyes

Inside the small cramped newsstand, Jeanne nervously padded her cigarette packet and circle it around with her slender fingers, placing the elbows on her knees.

Should I take it or not? What will happen to a promise you made to yourself? What if he sees you smoking like a hooker and denies to ever talking to you?

Her sharp brown eyes looked out to the street and wonder where all those cabs were going? Fifth Avenue in Manhattan, New York Airport, luxurious hotel? She could not guess exactly.

All she could tell definitely was that them, drivers, aren’t going into any hotels, shops, restaurants or anywhere. It was just the passengers who were.

The life was so unfair. It makes those taxi drivers served men and women in suits all day and get paid less than what those people in suits spent at their lunch time. It was so unfair that however hard Jeanne tried, she could not allocate herself to live somewhere else than the hideous apartment back in downtown she spends her nights in.

With a slight movement she turned back in her chair and faced the newsstand wall full of advertisements to hide from the street passersby and closed her eyes to take a break.

Today is special. It is not every other day I spend here

And she wasn’t willing to ruin her one good day by worrying of taxi drivers and homeless men.

Yesterday night all her pain got locked away. That night, she knelt for someone for the first time and cried in front of him. He looked down at her generously while she confessed her heart of long years of silent grief and supported her soul without any word.
Yesterday night she has decided to hold on to the Holy Book and let it bring her back to the independent track she was going to lead from that moment and on.
Yesterday she asked for a fulfillmentof a precious wish and it was Love. Jeanne was happy she received it from the eyes that watched her in the sacred hall she prayed..

And so today, she is Jeanne not J her so-called friends used to talk about.

Jeanne noticed the sky is blue and the trees are green.
Simple Beauty every one fails to notice, she thought.

Along many beautiful things, she was now looking forward for a very special moment- the private moment when someone showed up. Someone who will make her flash a true smile and for the first time in a long time to actually fix her hair in the little mirror at the counter.

The familiar blue bus came slowly braking at the end of the block. The bus always came at 7:15 every morning, carrying the most beautiful thing on Earth with it.

Katharine leaned over the counter and craned her neck to get a better look at it. Her brown eyes wandered at the line of people coming out and in from the bus.

There It came. The motions stopped, the birds sang, peace flooded around and her heart beat was heard in her ears.

The guy in black jeans and worn out back pack came out shortly smiling and nodded to the bus driver a good bye. His tall torso seemed all of the space her small little world had and with head up and eyes ahead, he casually walked closer. He was the only one she used to have erotic dreams about sometimes.

Jeanne brought herself down and stepped away the counter a little.

Would he ever notice the brown haired girl standing by the sidewalk inside all the newspaper titles and snacks? Today is the last day of this, remember? I was going away, going on. No more silly life I needed. But… wouldn’t you just ask him his name? For old staring times’ sake?

It was too late by then. Too little courage she had when she saw him. He walked past the little shop through the morning crowd, disappearing behind the shop’s thin wall.

She teased herself with her stupidity for awhile and got out to help the lady who was looking through the newspapers. She needed to get a map of restaurants around NY apparently.

“Let’s see. There is couple of pamphlets—“said Jeanne looking through the traveling section. The lady was standing next to her, smiling politely and waiting.

“Excuse me” said a voice Behind Jeanne’s back.

“Sorry, sir. Could you wait for a moment?” She was too occupied to handle two customers. The newspapers seemed to be on top of the pamphlets she needed.

Her hands held some of the newspaper’s up, but the other one could not reach to get the pamphlets.

“Sorry, Miss. You see those pamphlets underneath this pile I am holding? Could you take those?” The lady looked confused.

“Sorree, Engorish I don’t knou” she said in reply and shook her little hands in front of her.

“Here let me help you” and with that the other customer took the pamphlets and replaced the pile of newspapers Jeanne was holding on to.

Since all the lift was gone from her hands, she felt relived.
“Thanks. That was really nice” said Jeanne and turned aside to face the man who had helped her, accidentally brushing her long curly hair against his shoulders.

At that moment her breath froze in her lungs. She stepped away dumbly with unbelievable eyes. The guy put his arms up to show he was no danger, all the time smiling at the Jeanne’s incredulous reaction.

Of course, momentarily forgotten lady customer knocked on Jeanne’s shoulder lightly. Thank heavens she distracted Jeanne, or who knows how long she would have stared.

Jeanne sold one wanted copy of the pamphlets safely, always looking to a tall figure standing in front of the counter wiht the her side vision.

“So…What did you want?” she said meeting his eyes for a first time longer than 2 heartbeats.

I can not believe this.

“Pack of Mild Seven.” He fiddled with his coins.

Jeanne raised her eyebrow.
She couldn’t help but say: “You don’t smoke. I can tell. So why start now? color]
He chuckled and he looked down inspecting the advertisement fliers on the counter.

"So anythig you want?”

“Are you sure you want to know?”
His arms became to be placed on the counter. Half a meter away from her.

What does he want? It was a newsstand after all.

She was curious. “Go on.”

“I’m Tyler. And may I have your name?” His eyes concentrated on her eyes. And his smile was the most genuine and it never failed to melt her heart.

She let the wind blow her hair

You can have everything of me

... The rest is in your hands

The title isn't atractive at all. The dialogue may have little intigue in them. I may have confused someone with the setting. It may not sound dramatic to you as it is to me.
♥But I dedicate this to the ALL the members and moderators for the Valentine's day, today.

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#30 dark angel

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Posted 15 February 2007 - 04:23 AM

hmm. no comments, CC? :blink: I actually worked my butt off on this.

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#31 Black Butterfly

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Posted 15 February 2007 - 06:23 AM

S-O-O cool Em!

Luv, Luv, Cheers, Cheers.
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#32 dark angel

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Posted 15 February 2007 - 09:00 AM

LEx, thanks! :D
I actually encountered few grammar tense mistakes. Forgive.
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#33 Cabot~Fan


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Posted 15 February 2007 - 09:08 AM

Wow, that was a really good story. Short, sweet, and to the point. Well, not really. To the point with it being mysterious and such...

~Chelsie ♥

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#34 Black Butterfly

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Posted 15 February 2007 - 09:34 AM

LEx, thanks! :D
I actually encountered few grammar tense mistakes. Forgive.

don't speak about grammar sweetie! Mines can be worse than yours;P
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#35 General_Kenobi


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Posted 17 February 2007 - 05:32 PM

I wrote this for a Governor's School application, and just wanted to know how the majority felt about it over on the forum. Comments appreciated.


He couldn’t bring himself to look.

Prior to arriving, he had tried to work up some sense of courage for what he had to do. Yet, there he stood, unable to look in the casket before him. His mom said he didn’t have to look if he didn’t want to, but how much of a jerk would that make him? A funeral was meant for the grievers to mourn together, but all he wanted was to be alone and forget the whole thing.

Nothing felt right about the situation. The man lying within the casket shouldn’t have even been there. The various people surrounding him, talking casually, shouldn’t have been treating the funeral like some friendly get-together. It was almost a crime that they were able to feel an ounce of happiness when he, himself, was breaking apart inside. He shouldn’t have been wearing a suit. He hated them and, as such, never wore one. They were too constricting; he could barely breathe with that thing snaked around his neck like a noose. It just felt so unnatural to be wearing one, like he wasn’t being himself. His grandfather would have understood. He didn’t like suits either.


The sound of whirring cicadas and buzzing bees attacked his ears from every angle as he ran into the wide, open field. The sun beat down harshly upon him, and the small breeze that blew across his skin was sticky and hot. Stephen’s lungs felt as if they would burst, but he was determined to not be caught. That heart-pounding excitement was too good to pass up on, anyway. Besides, if Amy ever got word that he was outrun by an old guy, she would make fun of him ’till he was a hundred years old! Not that they were great friends or anything. Girls had cooties; everyone knew that.

“You run pretty fast for a little guy,” a voice declared from behind him. He could hear the sound of his own feet thumping against the earth, as well as the man behind him gaining ground.

“You’ll never catch me, Grandpa,” Stephen cried gleefully as he pushed himself to run faster. The tree line in the distance was rapidly approaching. If he could just reach it…“I’m too fast!”

Suddenly, Stephen felt himself being hoisted into the air by strong arms. He was flung over his grandfather’s shoulder, and the tree line began to get smaller. Stupid legs. Why couldn’t they move faster?

“Never catch you, eh?” his grandfather questioned lightly. A small smile crept onto his face.

Stephen wriggled around until he could comfortably sit on his grandpa’s shoulder. He wrapped his tiny hands around his grandfather’s neck for support, and looked down at him with a toothless grin. “You cheated,” he declared from atop his throne. “There’s no way someone can run that fast! Only the Flash can do that, and – and he’s a superhero!”

“Cheated?” his grandfather repeated in a dubious tone. “You have a lot to learn, Stephen.” He liked that his grandfather used his full name instead of Steve or Stevie like everybody else. Grandpa always treated him like an adult, an equal instead of a child. “I cannot cheat,” his grandfather finished charismatically. “Never have, never will.”

Stephen frowned. “Yeah, right.”

His grandfather carefully placed him on the ground. Looking back and forth, checking to see if anyone was there, he whispered, “Can you keep a secret?” Stephen nodded emphatically. “Well,” he continued, “I told you about my crime fighting career, but I never told you I was, and still am, a superhero. We are not allowed to lie or cheat. It’s physically impossible for us.”

Stephen stopped in his tracks and stared at his grandfather. No way could he have been telling the truth! Superheroes were famous. They lived in hideouts, and had other superfriends. Plus, they had costumes and masks. His grandfather had none of these that he knew of. “I don’t believe you,” he replied defiantly. “Prove it!”

His grandfather squatted down low and balanced himself on the balls of his feet, so he was eyelevel with him at once. “I could prove it, but then I would have to kill you, and I don’t want to do that because I like you a lot,” he explained. “I proved it to my buddy Frankie Delano Roosevelt, and look how he turned out.”

Stephen attempted to close his mouth, but he couldn’t move. This was huge! He was probably the only one who knew about this secret…well, living one at least. It was the biggest secret anyone had ever told him in his entire life! “Wow,” was all he could manage to say in a tone barely above a whisper. He brushed the hair out of his face that had become slick with sweat from both the heightened activity and the humidity. After a moment of silence, he asked in the same tone, “How did you become a superhero?”

His grandfather scratched his head. “I was born with it. And when you were born, the superhero league contacted me and sent me to look out for you and protect you under any circumstance. In return for keeping you safe, they made me invincible.”
Stephen laughed. “Invis-dable? You can’t be invisdable. I can still see you!”

His grandfather wrapped an arm around him and chuckled. It wasn’t condescending. It was of light amusement. “No, not invisdable,” he corrected. “Invincible. It’s different from invisible.”

Stephen wrinkled his nose and squinted as the sun hit his eyes. “Invincible? What’s that mean?”

“It means,” his grandfather explained, “that I have infinite knowledge, and nothing can stop me, Stephen….I am immune.”


“If you don’t do it now, you’ll regret it later,” his father advised, softly nudging him forward. “Trust me.”

Stephen tried to look brave for his father, but failed miserably. He exhaled sharply and made his way to the casket. As he approached, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath before finally getting the courage to come face to face with reality.

His grandfather looked eerily serene in his final position. His hands were folded softly on his abdomen and his lips appeared to be tugged upward as if he was amused by an inside joke. His skin and general appearance was a lot healthier than the last time he had seen him. Making sure no one was watching, he grasped one of his grandfather’s hands in his. The cold, rough skin came as a shock to Stephen in comparison to the soft, warm consistency they usually held when he was alive.

“I miss you, buddy,” he whispered with a sad smile. “I miss you a whole lot.”


The countenance of the man seated in the armchair changed from indifference to stark white fear. He grasped the chair’s arms tightly, causing his knuckles to become ghostly pale. Drool slowly dripped down his chin, soaking into an ever growing puddle of dark on his shirt collar. “Who are you people?” he demanded with a faint tremor in his voice.

“Dad! Dad, it’s me, Ingrid…your daughter,” Stephen’s mother interrupted. “You remember my husband Jim, and our son, Steve, don’t you?”
Stephen watched as recognition barely flitted across his grandfather’s face. He instinctively took a step back, but his mother, rather forcefully, pushed him towards the sofa. Grudgingly, he collapsed into the aging cushions. His parents followed suit by choosing a seat on either side of him.

“You play any ball, kid?” his grandfather asked gruffly, gesturing towards Stephen’s uniform and cap. His parents forced him into visiting after practice. He had been too tired and hungry to actually argue, even though he hated these visits more than anything in the world. Instead of voicing any of that, Stephen merely nodded, his gaze glued to the floor.

“So, Dad,” his mother tried again, after his grandfather had nothing further to say. She sounded tired, more so than usual, “I had some of the pictures from our San Antonio trip framed for you so the shelf wouldn’t look so bare. Do you remember how much fun that trip was?”

For the first time in a while, Stephen’s mouth was forced into a small grin as the memory of the trip came blaring to life in his head. The sounds, the colors, the warmth, they were all permanently tattooed to his skull, the scenes to playing fluently like an old slideshow. He watched as he pretended to have a bandito fight with his grandfather in front of the Alamo Mission. It was one of the last times his grandfather had been healthy.

Stephen shook himself of these thoughts and awaited his grandfather’s reply. Only a grunt managed to escape his lips before once again he asked, in the same gruff intonation, “So, kid, you play any ball?”

That’s how it was for the majority of the visit. Occasionally, Stephen caught the minor undertones of what his grandfather used to be—was—but it never lasted for very long. Usually, it was gone in a flash, and he would wonder if maybe he had just imagined it.

“Where am I?” his grandfather asked frantically some time later, making it the fourth time it had happened while they were there.

“You’re still safe in your house, Dad,” his mother tried to soothe.

“Oh…no,” he declared, staring down at his pants. From all the overexcitement, his grandfather had lost control of his bladder. The darkening stain rendered Stephen speechless.

“Hold on, Dad, we’ll get you cleaned up,” his mother assured him carefully. “Jim, towels?”

As Stephen watched his grandfather being carted away, he couldn’t tear his gaze from his grandfather’s eyes. They were glossy and glittered with innocence as pure as a child’s. Most of all, however, the one emotion that dominated in those blue orbs was that of unadulterated fear. Stephen looked away. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.


“There you are!”

Stephen abruptly raised his head and glanced at the intruder that had followed him outside. His gaze was met with the sight of his friend, Amy; her auburn hair was hard to miss. She looked nice, he thought, even if she was wearing the Superman socks he had gotten for her as a joke one year. Stephen took comfort in the gesture. At least he could rely on Amy to stay the same.

“I didn’t think you would come,” he admitted after a long silence. She was seated next to him, and he found comfort in knowing that they understood each other completely without uttering a single word.

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” Amy assured him with a small smile. She then grasped one of his hands in hers and squeezed it reassuringly. “I am so sorry, Stephen,” she continued softly. “You can cry if you want, I won’t make fun of you, promise. I’ll stay here as long as you need me.”

Maybe reality had finally caught up to him. Or maybe it was because Amy was being so uncharacteristically serious. Either way, something inside him broke. The next thing he knew, tears were streaming down his face.

“He was a superhero!” he blurted, not caring if the statement made no sense whatsoever. “He was—He wasn’t supposed to go out like that, Amy! He was unstoppable. He was immune!”

Amy pulled her friend closer, and allowed him to hide his crying by doing so in the crook of her neck. “You’ll see your grandfather again someday. Mark my words, Stephen,” she stated confidently. “But in the mean time, I’m here for you. Cross my heart. I’ll be your best friend and protect you always”

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#36 princesskate14


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Posted 17 February 2007 - 06:23 PM

General_Kenobi: I absolutely, loved your piece. You write so well...so fluent. It seems like it all...fits together very well. VERY well. I loved the descriptions of the characteristics of each person, and how you portrayed Stephen as a child. It seemed so real to me; I almost cried at the end. Although I don't know how it is when a family member dies, it seems like you explained how Stephen felt really well; like that was how he was SUPPOSED to feel.

Stephen wriggled around until he could comfortably sit on his grandpa’s shoulder. He wrapped his tiny hands around his grandfather’s neck for support, and looked down at him with a toothless grin. “You cheated,” he declared from atop his throne. “There’s no way someone can run that fast! Only the Flash can do that, and – and he’s a superhero!”

I absolutely loved this paragraph for some reason. The fact that you said "he declared from atop his throne" just caught my eye and it made me think, "Wow, she's a really great writer." Also, as I said before, I loved all of your descriptions: The weather, their feelings, how things felt -physically and emotionally....I felt as if I was there, myself.

Okay, I think I've done enough rambling. But, really, I loved that =] I applaud you on a job well done.
Katie ♥
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#37 happysmiles


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Posted 17 February 2007 - 07:37 PM

The Coffee House

I sat on the cold hard stairs waiting for him. He never came. I sat wondering, the most dependable person I knew had done something out of the ordinary. As I sat, I realized I hadn’t ever done anything different. I was always the person that was predictable. Everyone knew what I was thinking, and what I was going to do next. It was a sick pattern. Every morning I woke up, got read, took the exact same route to work got there at precisely 9:03, worked until a little after 6:00 then went home had dinner by my self, and spent the rest of the evening with my friends. Nothing different ever happened.

I watched as people passed by on the busy street, each of them with their own story to tell. I decided that the next person I say, I wouldn’t talk to him, find out who they were and where they were coming from. The first person who passed was a man in a business suit, he looked in a hurry so I let him pass by. Then came an elderly woman in a blue flowered dress, I got up and walked towards her. As I came closer, I noticed tears in her eyes.

“Hi!” I said, trying to sound as friendly as possible even though I was scared to death.

“Hello..” The woman responded trying to avoid looking me in the eyes.

“How are you? Oh I’m Riley by the way.”

“Oh, I’ve been better but I really would love to stay and chat but I have some where to be, good-bye.” And with that she walked off, quickening her pace so I couldn’t catch up. I felt defeated, but I knew there was someone out there willing to talk to me. I sat back down on the steps, watching and waiting. Everyone who passed by seemed to be in a hurry or they were just too scary looking to talk to. I was finally ready to give up on my great idea. When someone caught my eye, walking down the street came a guy, he looked to be in his early twenties. He was wearing tie-dye shirt and baggy paint splattered jeans. His hair as a mess, but he had a goofy smile that just seemed to catch my eye. I took a deep breath and decided that he would be the last person I was going to talk to today.

“Hi, I’m Riley.” I said holding out my hand. The guy took my hand hesitantly and shook it, he had a nice strong handshake.

“Egan, May I ask why your introducing your self to random people on the street?” He asked. Egan, that’s a nice name, I thought. Something about him was so familiar to me. I couldn’t quiet place him. But somewhere in my memories he seemed to fit.

“Well…” It hit me, I realized why Egan looked so familiar, five years had made quiet the difference but that goofy smile was still the same. “I just got bored of being me.” I wasn’t sure if he recognized me or not. Of course he didn’t’, I was a completely different person. Five years ago, I was the happy go lucky girl. I had a great life ahead of me but that all changed when my mom died. I was left an orphan, a junior and I had to fend for myself. Egan had been just been one of those guys in one of my classes, he had always sat in the back. But one day he noticed me, I guess he took pity on my or something, because he came towards the middle of the classroom and said ‘hi’ and sat down next to me. We were never great friends or anything ,like that, just acquaintances. But I guess he never knew that he almost got me through the hardest time in my life. I didn’t make it, I was so close, but I fell into a deep depression. After I was forced into therapy, I never saw Egan again. I hadn’t even thought of him until now.

“Bored of being you? What an interesting concept you want me to help you find something new to do?” Egan asked, I looked him in the eyes, and decided what the heck. At first it was Egan leading and me following him down the street, turning here and there and stopping every once in a while to look at something. I never knew what he was looking at but I always tried to find it before he started walking again. Our conversation was awkward at first, but slowly I started to warm up to him again. I really don’t’ think he recognize me. He kept walking, and I kept following. He walked into a little corner coffee shop. It was dark, but quaint, as soon as I walked in I inhaled the deep sent of the freshly roasting beans it was the most comforting smell. “You like coffee?”

I nodded my head ‘yes’ and sat down where Egan motioned me to as he stepped up to the counter. The guy behind the counter seemed to know Egan quite well, I figured he must be a frequent customer. I looked around me, there were old couches with holes in them on the wall. A few tables were scattered here and there, each with a couple of mismatched chairs. Next to the counter there was as ate, it was dark, and on it there was once stool. Egan clanked the cups onto the table, the china was mismatched an chipped and the spoons looked a little rusted.

“What do you think of the old house?” Egan asked.

“Not sure yet, but the smell is amazing. Now let me just try the coffee and I’ll give you an answer.” Egan moved the chair opposite of mine closer to where I was sitting and he sat down. He glanced at his watch then up at the stage. A spot light slowly turned on, highlighting that single stool. A woman with long wild brown hair, dressed in all black. Walked onto the stage, she carefully took a seat on the stool and out of some mysterious packet she pulled out a mangled piece of paper. She began taking her voice flowing like butterflies. She was reading a pome. I wasn’t much for poetry, but something about her caught my attention. She spoke of isolation, love, sacrifice, happiness, and God all in the same five minutes. Everything flowed so well together, the message so clear so profound, I got goose bumps. Then her voice stopped suddenly, almost a crackling stop. She started to talk again, except this time her voice wasn’t flowing, it was coming out in quick bursts. Her face had tuned red, and she was all most yelling. Now, from what I could hear she was speaking of revenge and hate, her message still just as powerful. Then came dead silence and the room was slowly filled with snaps. And the woman descended from the stage and took a seat at one of the tables and started drinking her coffee just like nothing had happened at all like she hadn’t just changed my life. I was in awe, as more and more people got up, one at a time and slowly recited poetry. None of it as touching as the first woman’s but it was still all amazing. And it stirred something inside of me.

Egan turned and looked at me as the stage went dark again. “what did you think? Different enough for you?”

“That was amazing… I don’t even know how to describe what I just felt.” I sad, still trying to get my thoughts together.

“Good! That’s what poetry is about; good poetry touches people in different ways. Always different than what the author originally intended. That’s the beauty of poetry, no one has to agree for it to be good.” We left the coffee shop and I made a mental not if it’s address, knowing that I would no longer be eating dinner alone.

“Well, Riley I had an awesome time showing you something new today, but I really have someplace I have to be. You know how to get back to your stars for here?” I nodded my head still in slight awe.

“Hey Egan!” I yelled as he walked off “Riley Morgan, look me up, Mountain Green High School, class of ’08. Oh and thanks, for everything!” Egan gave me a bewildered look and I knew I had struck his curiosity. This wouldn’t’ be the last I would see of Egan. I slowly made my way back to my steps, feeling like I was stepping back into my predictable life. I got to the steps but instead of sitting down I just stared at them. They were cold and uninviting. I spit on them and just kept walking, never again to sit and wait for someone to come to me.

I went back to my apartment, ignored all the messages on my phone, people wondering what had happened to me today. I sat at the kitchen table puled out a clean note book, Is started writing. I didn’t write about isolation, love or God. I wrote about Egan…

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#38 Bella Catarina

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Posted 18 February 2007 - 08:04 AM

hmm. no comments, CC? :blink: I actually worked my butt off on this.


Well, umm, I didn't get any CC on mine either. But I see that you did, in the end. And I liked it. :) It was very good.

.: :spinstar: Kat :spinstar: :.
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#39 *HONEY*


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Posted 18 February 2007 - 08:09 AM

If you guys really want CC, I would suggest the Editor's Square sticky. Ali does a great job, as do a lot of other members.

-xx tephy

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#40 Cabot~Fan


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Posted 18 February 2007 - 02:23 PM

General_Kenobi: I absolutely, loved your piece. You write so well...so fluent. It seems like it all...fits together very well. VERY well. I loved the descriptions of the characteristics of each person, and how you portrayed Stephen as a child. It seemed so real to me; I almost cried at the end. Although I don't know how it is when a family member dies, it seems like you explained how Stephen felt really well; like that was how he was SUPPOSED to feel.

Stephen wriggled around until he could comfortably sit on his grandpa’s shoulder. He wrapped his tiny hands around his grandfather’s neck for support, and looked down at him with a toothless grin. “You cheated,” he declared from atop his throne. “There’s no way someone can run that fast! Only the Flash can do that, and – and he’s a superhero!”

I absolutely loved this paragraph for some reason. The fact that you said "he declared from atop his throne" just caught my eye and it made me think, "Wow, she's a really great writer." Also, as I said before, I loved all of your descriptions: The weather, their feelings, how things felt -physically and emotionally....I felt as if I was there, myself.

Okay, I think I've done enough rambling. But, really, I loved that =] I applaud you on a job well done.
Katie ♥

I agree 100 million % with Katie. That was some of the best writing that I've read in a long time.

I even teared up at the end...

~Chelsie ♥

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#41 iluvsassie_lizzie*


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Posted 18 February 2007 - 05:48 PM

Title: Forget Me Not

Genre: Supernatural Fiction (A.K.A Sci-fi but whenever I hear that I think of Aliens, hehe.)

Forget Me Not

"When I'm gone, forget me not," My mother's last words echoed in my mind. She said them softly, the tune off-key, her small voice hoarse and tinkly.

My mother loved her garden. That verse was one of the many lyrics she sung while pondering over her forget-me-nots. They were always her favourite. Her favourite colour, favourite smell, her favourite flower.

As I kneeled by her grave and placed the flowers beside it, stray petals blew in the wind. The breeze swirled them up into the sky until I could scarcely see them any more, only a flash every once and a while.

"Are there forget-me-nots in heaven?"

I bit my lip as I remembered what she said minutes before she died.

"If there aren't, I'll get some to you." My response made her close her eyes and smile. It was the last time she smiled.

"Maybe the wind will carry them up to heaven." I whispered to myself, swallowing hard and gulping back a sob.

"I miss you, Mom." I whispered to the sky, walking away from her grave.

* * *

"Please, Anna, don't cry forever." My sister's concerned eyes looked sad.

"I'm not crying," I denied, turning my head. "The smell of the flowers is making my eyes water."

"Anna, there aren't any flowers in here." She said, looking surprised and confused.

"Yes there are, it's giving me a headache now!" I said, rubbing my temples and slamming cupboards in pursuit of a Tylenol.

"Anna," my sister said, "There AREN'T flowers in here! You know I can't look at flowers anymore." She said, biting her lower lip. She didn't cry hardly anymore about Mom, she just couldn't stand flowers, because it reminded her of Mom. She couldn't handle it, and I couldn't deal with it, and we couldn't help the other one bit.

The smell was strong, and I knew it was Forget-me-nots.

"Lynne, it's forget-me-nots." I said, and she shook her head. She hadn't been able to look at a forget me not in five years.

"No, Anna. Not, it can't be. You must see a therapist. This isn't normal. There aren't forget-me-nots in here."

"YES! I CAN SMELL THEM! They smell JUST LIKE MOM ALWAYS DID!" I screamed, slamming down the pill bottle. "I can smell, them, Lynne," I saidin a quiet voice. "I can smell them."

* * *

Mom's garden had weeds. It's plants were dead. All except the forget-me-nots.

A small woman, with a tight gray bun and a white blouse, white cardigan, and white peasant skirt, smiled.

I blinked in disbelief. "Mother?" I gasped out.

"I've been taking care of the forget-me-nots, Anna," she said. "Have you forgotten me?"

"Never, Mom. I- I bring flowers to your grave once a week."

"When I'm gone, forget me not," She sang softly. I sang the next verse. "Once forever's passed, I'll be forgot."

Her hands lay neatly in her lap as she sang the last verse. "But you can quietly remember me,"

She placed a flower in my hands.

"My memory, forget me not."

** ** **

Any corrections will be appreciated as I wrote this on here and didn't do a spell check.

CC and comments are welcome!!!

** some say they haven't got a scent, but I googled it and mmost turned up with, "distinctive forget-me-nots clean, refreshing scent...."
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#42 JennyG


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Posted 19 February 2007 - 02:49 PM

Title: Nightmare

Genre: Fiction


When she herd those horrid words, she instantly fell apart. “Time of death, 9:43 P.M.” She felt he knees weaken and tears starting to leave her eyes. Her chest was on fire and she was starting to feel sick. It felt like it all was over, not just for him, but for her as well. He was everything for her. The conversation they had earlier didn’t mean anything anymore, it was merely a memory now.

“Jess, don’t cry, everything is going to be all right.” He had said, the back of his hand stroking her face.
“How do you know Kyle, you’ve got cancer for Christ sake!” She said braking out in tears.

“I know so.” He said before silencing her with his lips.

But she knew deep, deep down that this was a lie, that everything was a lie. He knew it as well, but somehow didn’t believe it. It didn’t seem real, like meeting Jess. To him that made up for everything. For the cancer, for not being able to live out life as he had planned. He didn’t want to leave her, not ever. She had shown him how to laugh again, and how to live out his days without regret.


As she sat in his room, it seemed much more quite then before. It felt, just different. She straightened her black skirt, and when she looked down she saw an envelope with her name written in neat handwriting. She immediately opened it to see a letter from Kyle.

Dear Jess,

I guess if your reading this then I must be gone. I don’t know much right now about death, I know I’ll miss my family, friends, those very nice people at the hospital, but most of all, you.

You are, and always will be, my everything. I understand if you’ll find someone else, and get married and have what? Five kids? I’ll know that you’ll be happy, because seeing your smile is all I need. I’ll be waiting up there for you, and I’ll be watching closely till then.


She then, broke out in tears. It was so like him to do something like this. Something so small, but someway left huge impact on her life. She felt happy, though sad, at the same time. Slowly, she rested her head on his pillow. Knowing that he was watching, she cried herself to sleep.

But when she opened her eyes she saw him, realizing it was a dream, that maybe there was still a chance for everything to end okay. And that she had already felt life without him.
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#43 LadyMMac


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Posted 21 February 2007 - 06:20 PM

Okay, here's mine. I actually wrote this awhile back, (it's been a couple months a least) for a writing contest. Anyway, here it is. (By the way, this is the re-edited version, but any cc is welcome, because there are still parts I'm iffy about)

Title: (Originally) Ana's Last Goodbye

Number of Words: 2,588. Roughly five pages on MS Word.

Onto the actual story!

"Ana? What are you still doing up? Tomorrow's a huge day for you!" In the doorway is my best friend for life, Tristan Denning. Hugging my knees to my chest, I sigh. "I couldn't sleep". I say, knowing that it's a lame excuse, but it's true (for once).

"Oh yeah? Why?" he asks, as if he's afraid of the answer. And me, I'm almost afraid to tell him. I don't want an emotional mess at 2 am. But going against my better judgment, I tell him. I don't necessarily want to, but once I start, I can't stop.

"I just… It's just that… I'm not afraid of dying, but I am afraid." I say scared, for the first time in my life, of what he might say. For a minute I feel like the world stops, and it's just me, desperate for a calm answer, but afraid it may not be what I want to hear.

Sitting on my bed, Tristan takes a deep breath and speaks. "Well, what are you afraid of, then?"

"I'm…I'm not sure I know, exactly" I say, my voice cracking loudly. "I can't shake the feeling that's something's wrong here."

"Well, yeah, you're not SUPPOSED to die, Ana. That's what's wrong." He says looking like he just said the wrong thing. It's weird how you can be so comfortable and awkward with someone at the same time.

I try to place my feelings in a way that can be expressed, but it's hard. Instead, I end up fiddling with a band aid, which is hiding a place where an IV has worn away a vein.

"It's just--I wanted to help the world. Remember that sign our sixth grade teacher had? That line from the sixties--what was it again? Something like 'Be part of the solution, not part of the problem'? What if I didn't do enough? It's not like I had enough time too—I’m sixteen and I'm DYING! You can't stop that. All I ever wanted was to help. I didn't want a sports car, I didn't want a million dollars, I wanted to change the world." My voice wobbles uncontrollably as I wallow in my stupidity. How could I even think that it was possible? Cancer patients don't go around saving the world! How could I? I can't even save myself!

"Hey! Don't talk like that!" Tristan says sharply. "Have you forgotten what tomorrow is? Your book signing! Your book! Ana, most people don't ever get published, and you are at sixteen! And you're not dying tonight! Four months! You've got four months!" He leans over and holds me tight. "And if I know you, four months and you'll have shocked the world."

Yeah, that's what they said at the beginning.

Chapter One- my mistake

People say that the worst feeling in the world is not knowing. I don't know if I agree. If it's something as meager as test scores, than sure, I'd want to know. But as usual, I'm looking at things from a perspective slightly to the left of sideways. For me, I'd rather live in ignorance.

It's scary, knowing something you can't change. If you don't know, you don't worry. You don't sit there, in the middle of the night, crying yourself to sleep. And you want to know the worst part? You never thought it could happen to you. Cancer isn't supposed to happen to YOU. But here is the reality: Cancer is for the weak, the strong, and everyone in between. Including you.

"Ana! Wake up! It's 9:30—and your gonna want to do all that girly stuff—so get going!" Tristan says, sounding panicked. I don't remember falling asleep, but I remember sitting there, Tristan's arms wrapped around me, and falling to pieces. After I had cried for a solid hour, we stayed up playing stupid games.

"Okay, which would you rather—confess that you cheated on a test over the PA or confess you had a crush on your math teacher over the PA?" Tristan had asked, grinning evilly.

"Ummm… confess that I cheated, I guess. Not that I ever would" I said. "I'm too perfect."

"Sure!" he answered sarcastically. I just hit him with a pillow.

Later, we get to the school where the assembly and book signing is going to be held. Squeezing Tristan's hand, I take a deep breath, run my hands through my hair, and get onstage just as the principal say the words "And now, it's my pleasure to introduce Ana Morgan, author of So it Happened to Me. Please welcome Ana."

After polite clapping and 'all that jazz', as my mom would say, I get onstage ready to say my spiel. "Hey guys. Not too long ago, I was sitting in a seat just like yours checking the clock and whispering to my best friend 'But I don't wanna listen to some girl babble about cancer. I'm not stupid!' Well, guess what? Here I am three years later, and I have Leukemia. So yeah, I can't make you listen, but I hope you will. I can't promise to be interesting, but I can promise to be short. And not babble. Much." I say, more nervous than I have been in my entire life. And I'm not sure why, it's not like I'll ever see them again. But looking out at the audience, I can see they're listening. Not every single one, but most of them.

Chapter Seven-so when it rains, it pours

"Hey" Tristan said looking into my room. I hid my face under a pillow, hoping to avoid him seeing me in my not-so-fantastic looking state. My hair was falling out. Now, I'm not a pain wuss--I could take puking my guts out ten times a day, I could take being totally exhausted after sleeping for hours, I could take popping veins right and left to make room for new IV's, but I absolutely could not take my hair falling out.

I was never very pretty, and I took pride in my hair, which was a glossy shade of auburn. Having it fall out was killing me. Now, more than ever, I was regretting ignoring the signs—the headaches, the flu-like feelings—that led to this. Why was I afraid? And more importantly, what was I afraid of?

After the book signing, Tristan and I walk along the beach outside the hospital. It's just us. And it would be romantic if it wasn't well, us. I couldn't like him. Could I?

"So…" he drawls, with his hands stuffed in his pockets."That wasn't so bad. You didn't pass out or anything."

Horrified, I realized I hadn't even thought of that. "I can't believe you put that thought in my head! I have to do the same thing next week!"

I look out into the ocean, where the waves are coming in at a breakneck speed. The colors remind me of emotions, some dark and deep, others light and airy. When I mention this, Tristan laughs. Even though I can't figure out why he's laughing, I'm glad to hear it. It's been awhile since I've heard him laugh. Even though I've come to terms with the Leukemia, I don't think he has. I think he's worrying and trying not to let it show. I feel guilty for putting all this on him.

"I'm so sorry, Tris." I say. It's not fair. Not for me, not for him. And I'd give anything to have him not go through this. He looks surprised and raises one eyebrow saying "Sorry? Sorry for what?"

I look into his glassy blue eyes and say quietly "Just know I'm sorry, okay?" And that's it. I can't hold it in any longer. I kiss him on the cheek, and walk away.

Chapter ten- BMT? Is that like a BLT?

"Ana" Dr. Pane says. "We have something that may help—may even put you in remission."

I'm all ears. You know that feeling you get when you get a present? Kind of warm and fuzzy? Multiply that by a thousand, and that's the feeling I get when remission is in reach.

"What?" I ask, more excited than a kid at Christmas. Squeezing Tristan's hand, I wait to hear what the miracle treatment is.

"Have you heard of a of a BMT?" Dr. Pane asks. Tristan's face drops. Maybe it's because his dad is a doctor and he's planning to be one—or maybe he's just a nerd, but he knows what a BMT is—and he doesn't like it.

"Is it like a BLT?" I ask stupidly. Dr. Pane laughs. "No Ana, a BMT stands for bone marrow transplant. It's risky, but it helps. It could save your life. I'll let you think about it for awhile." He shuts the door behind him, leaving me to make one of the biggest decisions I had ever made in my life. And in the end, I said yes.

Back in my room, I keep replaying the scene with Tristan in my head. Good job Ana, you've just lost the best friend you've ever had. And why? Cause you can't keep your raging hormones to yourself! Curling up into a ball, I grab my notebook and start to write. It's my release. After about twenty minutes the chemo side effects kick in and I fall asleep. The last words I write are the title of a new story…Because I love him.


"You're crazy!" These are the first words I hear when I wake up. Outside the door, Tristan is talking to someone. "If you think I would even THINK of letting you put her through that, you're crazy! Don't you remember last time?"

"Tristan, it's her only hope. She's dying, ok? She needs this. And her parents have already consented to it." It's Dr. Pane. The door opens and they walk into the room, not noticing that I was listening.

"Oh, hey guys." I try to make my voice sound casual, but it comes out forced and my hands are shaking. Tristan's eyebrow shoots way up, knowing something's wrong. Dr. Pane, however, carries on like nothing happened.

"Ana, I have something to tell you. Next Thursday, you'll be having another bone marrow transplant."

"What?" I shriek, feeling totally betrayed. So that's what they were talking about. In that case, the answer is No Way. Hell would freeze over before I went through that again. You want to know what a BMT is like? Imagine Hell. Multiply that times a hundred. That, in a nutshell, is a BMT.

"No. No. And NO!" I say. "You can't do this! I don't want it!" I start to cry. Shooting Dr. Pane a dirty look, Tristan runs over to me and holds me tight, his arms wrapped around mine. "Hey," he says comfortingly in my ear, so only I can hear. "It'll be all right. I promise."

Cheerfully, like he didn’t just ruin my world, Dr. Pane says "Well, that's settled. I'll be into check on you later." Walking out quickly, he leaves me and Tristan alone.

"I can't do it, Tris. I just can't." I say, still shaken up. "Why would my parents even agree to that? They know how it was last time. Total pain, 24/7, isolation for weeks, no one to talk to. And worse, it didn't work last time. Why would it work now?"

"I know. But you have to. You parents consented. And…" his voice broke, "I-I don't think I could survive without you. You’re my everything, Ana. You always have been, you know. I know you don't want to. And I don't want you to be in pain. But, do it for your future Ana—don't go down without a fight, ok?" Hugging me tightly, Tristan kissed my lightly on the lips. And I broke down. I am a pain wuss. He went through this with me, so I would do this. Not just for me, but for him.

"I will, Tristan. I'll do it because I love you. And not like a friend. I just want to be with you. And if this will help me do that, then I'll do it. But Tristan…I can't help it. I'm scared. I don't want to go through pain, just to know that it didn't work."

"Hey, I'll be here. I'll be the last thing you see, and the first thing you see when you wake up. Promise."

"Tristan… why didn't you tell me that you loved me sooner?" I ask, mainly because I'm curious. We're comfortable again, and it's almost the way things used to be—with one major difference, Tristan loved me back!

He laughed. "Well, what was I supposed to say? Hey Ana I love you—sorry about having Leukemia? "I admit that it doesn't sound the slightest bit romantic and it would have definitely have been the wrong time to profess you love to someone.

Chapter fifteen- The Apple Pie Society

I'm sitting here with Camille, my childhood cancer roommate (who is currently in remission) in my living room. We're discussing what to put in our latest apple pie to make it special. We're making one for Norah—another member of the Apple Pie Society. In case you're wondering what that is, it's a group of girls with cancer of various types. We formed it when we were all in rooms next to each other for chemo and radiation therapy. We had sleepovers and did girly things and basically forgot we had a terminal disease that was practically incurable. But we gave the society its name one night at a sleepover—when we were talking about what we would do when we went into remission.

"Bake an apple pie" Camille had said. "I love apple pie." We all agreed.

Then Katya, another member said "Let's form a group. We can call it the Apple Pie Society."

I added, "And anytime someone goes into remission, we make them an apple pie—but a special one—just for them!" We all agreed to do it. And presto, the apple pie society was formed.

"Hey, you ready?" It's Thursday already, and Tristan and I are saying goodbye—it's time for my surgery.

"As ready as I'll ever be." I say. Just before a nurse comes in Tristan kisses me one last time on the lips. "Just remember—I love you. And I always will."

I grin and repeat my sentiments, hug him tightly and whisper a last goodbye—just in case.

A doctor comes in and gives me the anesthesia, telling me to count backwards from ten. 10, 9, 8, 7…


"Hello, Ana! Great news!" It's Dr. Pane. I feel horrible, and really don't care what his 'great news' is… he probably just bought a new car…

"YOU'RE IN REMISSION!" he shouts. I sit straight up in my bed, not even caring about the massive headache that happens every time I sit up straight. "I… I what?" I can't believe what I'm hearing. I've been waiting for so long to hear that sentence.

Tristan runs into the room, out of breath and puffing. "So…what's the big news?" he asks, more excited than I'd ever see him.

"I'm…I'm in remission." I say, still not believing the words are coming out of my mouth. His jaw drops and he swoops down and kisses me on the lips. And words can't describe how much that kiss meant to me. I owed him my life. And for once, everything was the way I wanted it.

CC is appreciated.

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#44 dr.pepper_2010


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Posted 22 February 2007 - 05:22 PM

LadyMMac, that was extremely good. Very well written. Only, I wish it were longer, I would totally read a whole story based off that.


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#45 LadyMMac


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Posted 22 February 2007 - 05:36 PM

Thank you. Yeah, I do kind of wish it was a little longer, but the limit was like, 2,600 words. So maybe I'll tweak it, I just don't really know where.

PS- Call me Maggie. :)
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