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It has been a long year.
Now its time to go,
But I don’t want to leave.
How do I suppose to say goodbye?
I know I will see them next year.
Why am I so torn up about this?
I guess I just never like to say goodbye.
It always seem like the end.
All these years were great but now its hard.
I don’t want to forget them.
I really enjoyed it here,
But now its time to say goodbye.
When the last day came I walked with my head down.
I was kind of happy to leave but sad to not see my friends.
They say we are best friends until the end.
I believe them but I would like to see them once in awhile.
I said my goodbyes and headed out the door.
I walked a block to my house in tears.
Just because…
I didn’t want to say goodbye.
A crack reverberated throughout the hall, a light appeared for the smallest of moments - perhaps it was the other way around, yes, with first the light and later the crack - and complete silence fell. That silence lasted for exactly five seconds.
Arianna’s advocate squealed in joy, a fragment of the chair on which the prosecuted had sat not so long ago having him on the leg, and the already unconscious woman’s body fell to the cold, hard marbled floor. He was just opening his lips, for such happiness could not be contained and had to be spread – his client had been attacked magically not once, not once but twice, which was clearly the result of either governmental inability to protect de Saindon, or that government’s itself desire to harm her, and an obvious solution to the mentioned problems was to seek financial compensations and a political asylum in some other kingdom – when the man stopped dead, his mouth suddenly clamped shut. Such was his reaction to what he saw th...
Again I found myself sitting at the neat kitchen counters and pouring out tea. After I had stuffed the teapot with tea bags and put it on to boil, I sat back and smiled sheepishly.
Mrs Brown looked at me disapprovingly. “Why have you come here, Amelia? If there is a proper reason I suggest to get to it – or get out. I don’t want my time wasted by busybodies.”
“Well...” I started, and then looked at her properly. She wasn’t frowning anymore, though she wasn't smiling either.
“Amelia,” she said huffily, in a bit of sheepish voice, “ I’d like to ...talk to you for a bit...if you would not tell anyone about it, that is.”
She glared at my surprised face, and my wide open mouth and she cleared her throat and said in a gravelly tone, “Tsk, tsk. If you dont’ want to take the time then go. But it’s not like you don’t have anything much better to do. Tsk. Finding this a bore, are you?” She huffed.
Wow, I'm proud of myself. I've written something that isn't completely romance.
This is for clograbby's Lost in the Atomsphere contest...review if you want.
Thanks much
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. The walls were closing in on me. The room was spinning. I couldn’t stand. I couldn’t move. I fell to the ground in a heap. My breathing became slow and labored. This was the end. I could feel it. Death shouldn’t be this bad. It shouldn’t be this unpleasant. I let my head rest on the cool floor and then everything went dark.
I woke up in an unfamiliar place. I felt like someone was drilling on the inside of my head it was pounding so hard. I wanted to vomit. I slowly sat up. It was dark but there was a small stream of light coming from a window. There was a mattress in the corner with someone sleeping on it.
I couldn’t hold the vomit in much longer. There was a bucket in the corner, I grabbed it and emptied the content of my stomach into it. The sha...
On Thursday, I got another permission note to skip a lesson so I could have another session with Susannah. I ignored the piece of paper sullenly, balling it up and plunging it into the darkest confines of my bag.
Since our first meeting in Year Seven, I’d been to see her regularly once a week. I never said much. Now, I just couldn’t be bothered to go to another meeting. I’d had an extremely bad morning as Mum had gone into another state of fearfulness where she refused to come near anyone.
I thought I was going to get away with it, until Miss Drury popped her head around the classroom door in Double English and asked for me to come to reception.
As usual, Susannah led me past the door saying Staff Only. I thought for a moment we were going to use the staff room as our meeting place but instead we went to a door adjacent to the principal’s office.
“We’ve got a room assigned now,” she grinned at me. “No more roaming around the school looking f...
Okay well...here it is, finally Sorry Demeter and Jasmine for the long wait What can I say...
Chapter 11
“When are you going to start confiding in me, Amelia?” Susannah asked.
We were in the middle of yet another counselling session and I was still remaining quiet and reserved.
I looked at her blearily and shrugged. “There’s not much to confide,” I mumbled.
“Why are you saying this?” said Susannah. “You know there is as well as I know. I need to hear it from you. I need some kind of break-through here, Amelia, and you’re not making it very easy for me to help you.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Look, I don’t want your apologies, Amelia. There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. It’s j...
Hello readers. I have an english exam coming up this week and I'm preparing for it by writing practice essays for the texts that we studied in class. I would greatly appreciate any feedback as I want to get a good grade for the exam. Thanks
Analyse how a text strengthened your opinion of a particular text or issue
Sexism forces women to adhere to what society considers as acceptable. It is unfair and only destroys relationships and lives. The author, Jennifer Donnelly, wrote the extended text A Gathering Light to express to the audience (especially teenage girls) that the world is a tough place for young women. She based her narrative on a murder that occurred during July, 1906 in the Adirondack Mountains, a time where there was a strong presence of sexism in that society. Through careful manipulation of literacy devices and techniques, she presents this issue to the reader to convince us that no good can come from sexism.
Jennifer Donnelly tells the narrative in the firs...
Title is taken from someone creatively named 'anonymous', and the quotations are adapted from the Book of Common Prayer, 1929.
_
there’s a church up on the hill
and it’s burning, burning like the end of days.
To you all hearts are open, all desires known, and from you no secrets are hid.
vivisect a priest and have a look—
is there anything different about his insides?
I thought maybe a brighter heart, a cleaner lung
& a brain free of impurities. maybe there’s
a hole in his hand & a gash in his side. but
what I saw in our makeshift autopsy struck me
as neither sacred nor profane.
This is my blood, which is shed for you and for many, for the forgiveness of sins.
strike match & hold. if it were any easier
it’d be genuflection, and if it were any harder
it’d be martyrdom. There’s a saint on your wall,
watching over breakfast. say grace but his ears are shut;
some masquerade for kindness no one will know
but the sweatshop girl w...
Call it introspection, I'm inspector gadget,
I tell you what check, know what check I've had it
Can't go-go gadget arm and take the famine out of continents
so I gotta sing this song get a bit demonstrative
Corporations leave, say As-Salamu Alaykum
Children can't even buy the stuff they make em
Blood for oil we've got oil for blood
runs through our veins till our brains turn to sludge
Words are basic words are acidic
The acts of Patriots got me trapped in cryptic
worlds I'm falling like a flag unfurled
Liberty dude, yo she ain't that girl
That I've read about, that I think I love
I turn on the news ask what we're thinking of
Wikipedia it says we're democracy
But in government all I sees hypocrisy
Genocides we can't report yo we can't stop it see
Cause this garbage man has won the fucking lottery
And that's what we call a feel good story
That distracts your mind from the blood and gory
But that's a forgery, it's not real, it's fake
Compassionate conservatives don'...
"As long as what you are afraid of is something evil, you may still hope that the good may come to your rescue. But suppose you struggle through to the good and find that it also is dreadful? How if food itself turns out to be the very thing you can't eat, and home the very place you can't live, and your very comforter the person who makes you uncomfortable? Then, indeed, there is no rescue possible: the last card has been played."
—C.S. Lewis
The Stranger
1.
The musty scent of old leather and old wood spilled over every crack in the saloon. Behind the counter, large barrels with old spigots rested one atop the other all the way to the ceiling. The barmaid moved like a butterfly from one set of customers to the other, flashing an attractive if toothy grin as she did. It was mostly dark inside - the only light coming from the candles hanging along the walls and on the tables. Towards one end of the bar, two plump Pukwudgies sat, feet dangling high above the gro...
Thicker than Water
By Jazz Anzara
((Author's Note: This story is shorter than I am used to writing, but I will be greatful for any and all comments from readers. Be forewarned, it is dark towards the end. Thank you.))
"They say that blood is thicker than water. But for a princess who had nothing, love is thicker than them both. I knew that I was forbidden to love a Shohou assassin, but I could not reject him. We were both warriors then, and we did not need words to give understanding. Our time together brought joy like nothing we had ever known. But I should have realized it could not last…because my brother has been taken by him. No matter how much I wish it did not have to be this way, I can no longer stand the weeping of my mother. I must bring him back or my heart will kill me before the assassins have a chance.
The skies seem to reflect my rage in their dark depths; thunder roars over head like a caged beast. If it were a hurricane, or even a typhoon, it would not...
When you're ready to grow up, call me. When you're done fishing for compliments, thats when you can start looking for advice in me. If you're over all your crushes on all the guys that will break your heart and make you cry, then I'll let you get this close.
When you look in the mirror, and you're fine with what you see, and when you walk down the street without counting the guys that look at you, maybe then we'll work out.
Maybe there will be an us...but I'm not going to wait for it.
With me, what you see is what you get. I threw away my facade.
My shoes clap like a baby’s hands
as I enter the new house. In San Diego
we never had wooden floors and
rows of green, summer foliage
flapping against my bedroom window.
I think about writing a poem as I
leaf out of my room to the humidity
of corridor air, like rolling head-
first down the stairs.
The knob to the attic is cold and
wet. Inside, Jane’s dusty horses
glare at me with tired, fusty eyes;
they’re begging for mercy, for freedom,
for Jane, locked inside their cage. I
look out the window: it’s raining,
and the towers of New York are corned
in black clouds.
Those horses and bears and dogs don’t
know what’s outside, don’t know how
good their lives are. In cool, crisp mornings,
I wake up to the azure shadows of dawn. They
don’t seem to care that the sun always
rises on them first, sets on them
last.
She did, she looked at him and smiled. "Where's Gabby fit into this?"
"She's going to be what you can't be for me. Her and I are going to give it a shot, or at least that's the way it seems. She's never going to take your place, there's just something about you that no one can replace. I don't know why I need you so bad. I don't mean she's second best, I guess you two are like air and water to me. I need you both, but one isn't better than the other. Like salt and sugar."
Helena walked over to Jesse and wrapped her arms around him. Jesse put his arms around her, and let her squeeze him tight. "Can I be sugar?" she asked in a voice ringing with loneliness.
Jesse smiled and tightened his arms around her, "you always will be." He inhaled her perfume and wanted to cry, but knew that he couldn't. His feelings for Helena had to be in the past now.
Nothing would make him happier than to look into her eyes and melt away, and for her to...
To celebrate my arrival home to rainy & cold england, I have decided to post pert two without altering part one, but which I promise you all I shall get to doing as soon as possible. Also, for anyone who knows the song When You're Gone by Avril Lavigne, that song is my inspiration for this & is basically the soundtrack to this chapter. Anyways, I hope you enjoy reading this & thank you for reading it!!
10 Years Ago (Part Two) One month later
Quietly Rosaline put her pen down on the dressing table and folded up the letter, the writing slightly smudged from her unwilling tears. She looked over at where Jared lay in bed, his long, scruffy dark hair sticking up from sleep and his nose scrunched up as he dreamt.
She couldn’t believe she was doing this.
She retrieved a hair clip from the table and clipped her curly hair up, away from her face. She picked up her suitcase lying at the end of the bed, took on...
She closed her eyes and let her knuckles knock on the door, not sure what to expect. Loretta was a mother, a mother who had just found out her fifteen year old daughter had been conducting a sexual relationship with her eighteen year old boyfriend. This was illegal. This was her daughter. This was her daughters’ innocence.
Summer cried. She didn’t know what else to do. She’d pulled at her clothes and her hair in some sort of attempt to relieve the pain and the anguish she was undoubtedly about to go through. Her mother knew. Summer didn’t understand how she’d found out or what was going to happen now, but if she only ever knew one thing it was that her mother hated Jamie with a passion. Summer only could ever have love for him.
He heard the banging on the solid oak front door and crouched in the corner of his bedroom. Jamie knew this action was not going to help him. His dad knew he was upstairs. His bedroom was eight foot by ten foot. It wouldn...
This is only a segment of the story, i hope you thoroughly enjoy and leave some helpful comments!
“Go on son! You can do it!” Mrs Rogers was screaming at the television. Not a good idea. That is the first sign of madness! But it isn’t the first sign of madness that Juliet has had. Mrs Cloudy-Nose was winning the race on TV. Yep, Mrs Rogers was watching ‘BBC 15, Grannies staircase race’ a simple show where five grannies have their own staircase and the first one to the top is the winner, oh joy! The prize? A year’s supply of banister polish. Perfect for any granny who never uses the stairs. There is an old saying in Pocklington, use your staircase or at least make it look good.
Three o’clock, time to have her cup of tea and her ‘make me stop falling asleep of boredom’ tablets.
That certain Polar Bear, namely Blanket Ted, yep still the same falling bear, was still falling. Would you believe it! Blanket shoved his hand inside his two ‘inside the bow hold all ...
This story was written to be less than 800 words. Hope you enjoy and please leave fed back.
I would be most grateful!!!
The Dream Kite
One day, a long, long time ago, about last week, Sam was playing in the woods with his pet dog, Lenny, and his pet rat, Scamper. Sam was half way up an especially big tree.
“Not too high!” Shouted Lenny,
“Yeah, if you get lost who’s going to clean my cage?” Added Scamper.
“Just a little higher, I want to see if I can see home!” Sam stepped onto the next branch and…he was gone. So were Lenny and Scamper, the tree and the two animals had sunk through the ground.
After a lot of spinning and screaming they all appeared again in a forest of massive red trees and green ferns.
“Wow! Do you reckon it’s a time travelling tree?” Asked Sam, “Dad told me about these trees, he says their called Redwoods. Some can be bigger than houses!
“Wow!” Lenny Barked at a tree, “look there’s a hole in that tree, it would make ...
Hi, this is a section of my story, more to come soon!!!
Please leave feedback i would be grateful!!
A certain Polar Bear, namely Blanket Ted, was wedged. Wedged can mean so many things. You can have a potato wedge or maybe a wedge of cheese. If you’re American you might use a wedge of butter unlike us Brits who prefer a Knob…
Blanket was wedged but he wasn’t a wedge of butter, a potato wedge or, as far as he knew, a wedge of cheese. He was wedged under a mattress and every time Laurie moved, Blanket got a little bit more wedged. His face was wedged so hard it was almost pushed out the back of his head. By now Blanket was asleep, his legs were wedged over his shoulders so his head was stuck between them. His left arm was stuck in his mouth and he couldn’t find his right. Suddenly the mattress heaved upwards and Blanket was un-wedged. His legs popped back over his shoulders, he spat out his arm and finally re-arranged his face.
“It must be the morning,” he thought. F...
Some say love is like a roller coaster. Some say love is like being dipped in warm water after being in the cold too long, covering you, leaving no part untouched. Some say love is like heaven.
Some people are wrong.
Others say love is a one way street.
Well, that's close.
To tell you the truth, love is like those crash test courses where a car slams into a brick wall at 35 miles a hour. With all the dummies inside. All those dummies, dead.
Well, not dead.
But When their heads crash through the windshield and stay motionless on the ground, it'd be easy to make that mistake.
Love, like most disasters, starts out small. A crush, a kiss, a cuddle. And like most disasters, the death toll keeps rising after the last tremor disperses, the last drop of water washed back to sea, the last ember burned cold. People still have infections, burns, and bruises from whatever tore through their life.
After love, the death toll still rises. From crushes, to kisses, to cuddles, t...
