They had just finished their evening meal; tension crammed the kitchen as Mrs. Timble cleared the table, her eyes fixed on the plates and leftover food. Mr. Timble sat lazily at the end of the table, while lighting a smoke and bathing his throat in bourbon. He looked darkly at her colorful dress, printed with various flowers, and surveyed. He could tell that she was nervous as she balanced a pile of cups and plates over to the sink. They had both been drinking plenty enough and empty bottles stood stacked into the corner of the damp kitchen. Her tiny feet tripped carefully over the floor: she was heading directly toward a sphere of slippery droplets. She tumbled. The cups dived heavily to the ground at a bat of an eyelid, covering the floor in smashed fractions of glass.
This is something I wrote earlier tonight. It's not personal, based on me, or anything like that, but I like the way it turned out. If there are any spelling/grammar/punctuation mistakes, can you tell me?
Any comments are appreciated. I'd give my story about a PG-15 rating. Not sure if that's important or anything - I know it is in some places. Please read, and enjoy!
The boy darted down the dark alley, his face gloomy and pallid. He was soaked from the drizzling rain that poured from the sky. The icy air around his mouth resembled white smoke as he exhaled. Pools of water splashed outwards as the boy set foot in them, as he escaped.
- Are you seeing that girl from school? his mom inquired.
- What’s her name again- Alice?
She stared long and hard at him, demanding a reply.
“Dance for him. Dance!
I am Bisexual and I have known for along time. I have been scared to come out because I was afraid my family and friends would disown me. But belive me it is much better to tell someone than to let it hang on your solders and let it own your life i am very young and I know my sexuality and I am very proud. So if you know you are gay or lesbian or both let someone know. IF YOU ARE READY. But do't use it to get back at someone.
Once upon a time there was a little girl named Margerie.
Margerie had the world at her finger tips.
Everybody worshiped her.
She was adored by all…. all but one.
No matter what she did, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get him to ever love her.
She never had to work for love.
All she needed was to bat her long pretty eyelashes, and she would attain whatever goal she had set.
When she woke up, the world wasn't blue anymore. But that's ok in the end and maybe if she wished hard enough her head wouldn't explode and ruin everything.
The tubes of paint were in pretty bad shape, and she had finally poured out the paint water that had been festering for half a year. The light still hurt her eyes a little, and she would have to bend over on the floor, but what are these things when you have a small universe at your hands?
It was snowing hard as I waited for Sara. Although I was freezing cold, and being blinded by the fucking blizzard I was in, I still stood there. I had said I would meet her there so I would. And maybe she would feel sorry for my gloveless hands again.
But last time that had happened it had almost immediately led to us having sex. Or almost having sex. Not that that was a bd thing necessarily, but I thought I was over that. I thought I had changed. I loved being with Sara, but moving so fast reminded me of who I used to be, and I didn’t like that. Did that mean I wasn’t ready for sleeping with Sara?
All through class I couldn’t concentrate. It was just too much, she was just too much. I felt dizzy from all I felt for her.
Of course I felt for her, well, sexually. But I didn’t realize how much I wanted her like that. I mean, it wasn’t until we were alone together this morning that I became driven to have her. Like physically have her. Before it was all just wanting that feeling of closeness and comfort. But last night it was more, and this morning it was much more. Today I saw her, and that was enough.
Reality TV Shows when is enough enough?
This is in my school newspaper
Eight people picked to live in a house while there
lives are constantly taped. People picked to live
on and island again their lives taped. Reality TV
and these are just two shows. There is a breed of
shows that people apparently like more than anything else.
The show has no script, no actors or actress, no meaning.
… The minute he caught sight of me, walking leisurely, obliviously, across the room- his only instinct was to look around and make sure nobody else was present. Sure enough, the room was empty, dark, and the only light that shone was from the intense craving in his eyes.
He marched towards me like a man possessed. He grabbed my left arm and then my right, and pulled my towards him- arresting my motion and pretentiously flaunting his physical vigour. His breath was heavy, slow and shallow, his nostrils flared up at me, and sweat trickled from his temples. In his eyes I saw a familiar yearning. A hunger so profound and mysterious, a secret voracity set loose…
I have no idea how we managed to cover ourselves so fast. I think I was on top of Sara at the time, or maybe she was on top. But we were definitely getting more intense with eachother. And then we heard someone walk in the back door, talking on their cell phone.
I pulled away first, I remembered, since I think I heard it first. She looked at me then heard it too looked at me and whispered “Shit.
Rachel came to my doorway and knocked. I peered at her over my big comforter. I wasn’t sleeping, still thinking. Thinking about the night before.
“You’ve got a visitor,
William Clinton High School
I can hear the laughter of people I once considered friends. First day of high school and already people know me as a freak. I hate the republicans. While elder students roam halls, freshmeat, as we are so comically named, are herded, as sheep, into the gym. They scream to each other as if they hadn’t spent the entire summer with one another obsessing over what to wear, who to talk to, and which freaks to avoid. I spent my summer getting personal with my couch, TV and a box of Cheerio’s. How fun.
I sat on my bed with nothing but a desk lamp on to give me some light. Ashlei was asleep on her bed. I, however, could not get any sleep. I kept thinking back to the kiss. Well, there was more than one kiss actually.
Holy shit. Everytime I thought about it I got that same amazing feeling. I could still feel her lips on mine, her hands moving on my bare hips, my hands lost somewhere in her hair. Oh shit, I thought I might explode with how much I was feeling. I needed to deal with all this somehow, and I knew just where I was going to release it.
As I walked away from Parker I felt like I was going to be sick. Like really, physically ill. I couldn’t believe I had just let that spill. I had totally not meant to let anything come out, at all. But it had, and it had messed things up.
It was just that I had so many strong emotions for Parker that I didn’t know what to do with them. I hadn’t felt this way about anyone else, ever. And the worst part was, I didn’t even tell Parker everything. I had only told her a small portion of what I felt for her. But what did I feel for her exactly?
It had started to snow, but not much, so we decided we’d just walk through it. I took a deep breath and released it, watching the white mist flow from my mouth. Sara began to talk, telling me of her bad day so far.
I looked over at her as she talked. Little specks of white snowflakes slowly landed on her golden hair and then melted away. As the snowflakes disappeared, they turned into little mounds of water, giving Sara’s hair an extra shimmer added its normal shine.
Here' the full story I wrote for my freshman english class...yes it's semi-autobiographical account of what was going on with me at the time...
The Hands of the Soul
Eleanor rubbed her thumb over the knuckles of her left hand examining each age line. For years she had heard from various artist and poet friends that the eyes were the proverbial “window to the soul.
I remember how my stomach jumped as the door unlocked and quietly opened.
Oh God, I thought to myself as I resumed my attitude of sleep in my bed. My roommate’s keys jingled as she tossed them and her jacket onto the bed right next to me. I opened my eyes slightly to see her short figure standing in the middle of the room. Even without my contacts in I could feel her eyes on me. I pulled the blanket up over my face so she couldn’t see the grin I felt forming. I hated and loved the way that my roommate’s presence could make me smile even in the tensest and most inappropriate of moments. I braced myself for the question I knew was coming.