đź I am a student of English Literature and Creative Writing. In my spare time I channel my creativity into writing and baking... Or sometimes Iâm curled up in bed with a nice book or a cheesy rom-com dressed in mismatched pjs! đź
đź I am a student of English Literature and Creative Writing. In my spare time I channel my creativity into writing and baking... Or sometimes Iâm curled up in bed with a nice book or a cheesy rom-com dressed in mismatched pjs! đź
âMelissa, wait!â I call out. Her pink suitcase swivels as she turns around to face me. âI donât want you to go to New Jersey with Adam. I want you to stay here, with me.â She takes a deep breath. A crowd of people start gathering at my right, the faint blue glow of âGate 44â hovering above their heads.
âOh, AndyâŚWhy are you only telling me this now?â A man pulling a green suitcase joins the lin...
It wasnât completely dark. I could still see the red cups the jocks were drinking out of. The lights of the speaker flashing as the next throwback song started playing. I could tell that people were shuffling into one corner to dance, and in the other corner there was a girl sat all alone. Something about the dim lights made me feel comfortable enough to go talk to her. So, I did.
âOMG, I rememb...
When the dust had finally settled over the battlefield, The Knight walked across the battered plain, leaving behind him a fresh set of footprints. Between his wounded hands he held an ornated wooden box which clattered slowly with every step forward he took. When he reached the palace, he took a final turn towards the mass of seething soldiers strewn in pieces along the battlefield, drew a whistli...
A door opened all of a sudden.
A small stream of light from behind
flowed into the thick darkness.
Smooth, sun-spotted walls ran in circles around me;
but when I reached out there was nothing.
And then â a beam of light!
(Blue to wash my nerves away)
Sliced the tension into butterflies;
fluttering around a cauldron....
This morningâs weather report took me back. I remember the last time three feet of snow was supposed to suffocate the earth.
It was January 16th , last year. I was out, alone with my fatherâs Fiero and a bottle of flavoured vodka, sweet, inebriating strawberry. Iâd had an awful Christmas; my parents and siblings had a colossal argument about nothing serious at all. I was wearing the sweater my ...
âIf only,â I sigh, staring down at my shoes; stained with embarrassment. Once red stilettoes soiled by the obscuring mud,
gathered in crowds at the toecap to laugh at my misjudgement.
Whispers of mud settle in footprints on the pavement,
a crime scene for those who wish to investigate my failure.
âOh well,â I giggle when we reach the restaurant.
A perfect, purple rug waits to be polluted. ...
Weeping;
They sit curved in shame
Knees pressed to the ground,
Palms pressed together. Lips loosened
By the sympathetic silence. They beg
beneath inculpable breaths
To have them. Those promises
Their screaming hearts are destined.
If only their prayers were more than
Mere Whispers on the Wind.
(There is caesura and enjambment here which will help to read it as I would - if you want!)...
âYouâre going to ruin your shoes,â He winces, holding a hammer in his soaked fist.
âTheyâre the only ones I have, I donât have any that are waterproof.â His response is overpowered by a fierce crack of thunder. His head whips back, he gestures at the square of wood parallel to my heel. I lean down to pick it up, every step I take closer to him is accompanied by a sucking, squelching noise. I am...
I wasnât expecting my usual âgood morningâ to be succeeded by a scream, maybe I said it too aggressively? Maybe theyâre looking at me the way I see myself in my phone camera, it is hideous enough to summon a scream. Remember that Ke$ha song where the woman drops the pancakes? Yeah, thatâs exactly what my mother did.
Confused and slightly scared, I ask: âHi! Why are you screaming?â
Everyone ar...