Long ago, in ancient pasts,
Now forgotten, lost in time
I waited, ever patiently
For the bit of dirt that would be mine.
Month: November 2018
Softly float
Your gentle swellings
Ever rising and subsiding,
Whispering
Your ancient tellings.
This is the continuation of a story started earlier. Summary of previous action in the story: Olivia has always been popular at school. One day, she was seated next to a kid who offered to help her. Not wanting to seem very friendly (she had her own friends!), Olivia refused. The girl, named Audrey, accepted her refusal as an answer and smiled. Olivia and her friends—Sandra, Brittany, and Lisa—started pranking Audrey after that day. They were not being mean, they reasoned. Just funny. On the day of Olivia’s thirteenth birthday, Audrey was invited with the rest of Olivia’s class. Olivia does not want her there.
For the entire part 1 of this story and more information on what happened, go to: http://www.thewattle.com/2018/10/22/out-of-sync/
“Hey, Audrey!” my mom trilled as she saw the recipient of our pranks at the door. Continue reading
Memories are like drops of water,
Each spherical and underestimated.
A single drop of water
Holds life for a potted plant.
Many drops of water
And the plant flourishes.
Too much water
And the plant wilts as if parched.
Continue reading
Hazel stared fixedly into the darkness of her bedroom. The sinister ghoul’s face leered at her and stretched a deadly white hand towards her. His fingers quivered in wavering tendrils like tentacles. Blood oozed from a gash in his cheek and ran down his chin as his mouth gaped wide and grotesque. A few yellowed and rotten teeth were still embedded in his gums like small arrowheads speared into his skull. All the time his terrible hand kept reaching, reaching. He reached towards her and grasped her throat in his hand…