Pinch, twist, pull, pinch, twist, pull, pinch, twist, pull. Over and over my stained yellow hands go. Hours after hours back and forth. “Ring ring ring, section 4 lunch break.” says Vivaan. Uggggghhhhhh I hate Vivaan he walks around like he is so superior, and just because he is loaded. He struts around the barn whipping people when he feels like it. Anyway Arjun owns the the saffron fields. Arjun doesn’t strut, he has broad shoulders, light bronze skin and those big round hazel eyes. Aunt Keshini says I will never be good enough for him; and grandma says I’m too weak. I can’t even talk to him because he is so rich. “Ananya”my name floats towreds me it’s a quite wisper but harsh it sounds like like Vivaan. Wait it is Vivaan. All of a sudden I‘m back to reality in torchering agency. The whipping continues for another minute. My inflamed and bloody skin screamed at me to stop the pain. Then I realized I wasn’t in control I never was. The wip rose up and started to fly down.
Carnivals. They aren’t bad, but I feel jumbled and confused. Right away, the Jaws theme songs plays in my head and the color orange dances around in my head. Clowns. Oh great. I hate clowns. I taste mouthwash-the really cheap kind. Usually, I like these tastes,colors and sounds to accompany the actual scenario or object. Right now though, I am losing my orange-tainted-Jaws-music mind!
The small earthy creature unfurls from its curved in body, smudged with dirt from a winter's sleep. It blinks its large spring green eyes, blinded by the ever-shining sun. The creature is a wood sprite. Her name is Petra. She is thankful for the warmth that seeps through her raw, frosted skin, alighting in her soul and a long slumbering joy opens a single eye in response, deep in her soul.
“KAREN!” I screamed. I couldn’t think straight. People were shouting but I didn’t listen. All I could think about was Karen. Tears poured down my cheeks, the world blurred around me. It was getting hotter. I had to think fast. A plan formed in my head. It was crazy but I had no other ideas. So without another thought I ran straight into the raging flames. “Mom, May won’t get out of bed!” Karen complained. “Karen leave me alone,” I mumbled through my pillow. “You are very loud for seven years old.” Even through my pillow I could hear Karen’s long exaggerated sigh. “Come on May, we’re leaving for Florida today! We get to fly on an airplane, eat airplane food, sit in airplane seats.... Karen had never ridden on an airplane before she was very excited. I however was not. When I was nine I rode on an airplane to California to see my Aunt. On the ride I got up to use
I was walking down 8th Street when, all of a sudden, I saw a glowing light. As I got closer the light got brighter and brighter until I couldn’t look at it anymore. I found an old pair of sunglasses in my pocket so I used them to see.
“AWAKEN ME!” yelled a voice coming from the glowing light. “AWAKEN ME OR ELSE YOU’LL REGRET IT!” the voice yelled again.
“Who are you? And why should I free you?” I asked.
“NOW!!!!” yelled the voice.
Then I saw a lever and if you know me, I love pushing buttons and levers. I was so tempted to push the lever. But when I did, there was huge explosion that blasted me away.
“I’M FREE!” the voice happily said.
It was a man. He looked like one of those gods in those Percy Jackson books.
“Thank you, young man,” he calmly said and then left, with no trace of him at all.
“You’re welcome,” I said before he left. “You’re welcome.”
Summer was finally here and they were all ready to go but there seemed to be a small problem and we couldn’t quite figure it out. We had waited all year for this two week trip where we were going all pile in our minivan and head cross country. But we couldn’t yet there was one thing that just didn’t seem right.
We had done a head count about three times and it wasn’t like there was a herd of us. There were only six of us not including the dog. Ok well maybe that is a herd compared to most other families and this trip was going to be annoying anyway. There is going to be me my two younger sister and my older brother who wasn’t to happy that we were taking two weeks away from his summer. Then there are my parents who can’t ride in the same car with other without complaining about the others driving habits. Oh and don’t get me started on the dog all he is going to do is sit in the car and stink it up the ENTIRE time.
Home it’s a place that you can feels safe talking about anything that comes to mind. Or is any place were family lives I’m not saying to live with them but you should help them and make sure that they are doing ok. What my vision of home is, is a place that we should feel safe to express our opinion. A place that has people we love. A place that you can feel safe in general a place where you can talk about anything get teased slightly because they love you. So home doesn’t need to be the place you grow up. It can be anywhere as long as there is someone there that you love.
I found something in my brother's high school journal and I don't know what to do. Keep in mind that this journal was also his when he was in middle school, but from the sixth grade to the ninth grade, he only wrote three entries that were mostly complaints about our home life. My father was in prison after being involved in a drunk driving incident when we were both in the fifth grade. He was sentenced to twenty years, but my mother divorced him and took custody, so we weren't exactly supposed to ever see him again. This angered my brother to the point of no return. Our father was his best friend and when they weren't out skateboarding (yeah, he wasn’t really much of a fishing dad), they were having conversations about what they thought about the world. He was probably the wisest person my brother could think of and he looked up to him like he was God himself.
Her silhouette next to the sunset is the perfect image. But at the wrong time. She doesn’t speak. The only part of her that moves is her feet, slowly dragging along the dock. Alyssa follows but I pull her back.
“She needs space.” I tell her. Alyssa looks at her concerned and then sighs.
She sits at the edge of the dock, wondering why this drama and heartache is attracted to her. She toys with her fingernails and her feet are tickled by the water. She tries to laugh, but the tears overpower her weak smile. The orange sun disappears into the ombre water. It looks as if she holds the very sun in her hands, but she gives it away-it is too much in this state of mind.
Beeeep. Beeeep. Beeeeeep. The timer goes off and I take my head out from where it was soaking in the bowl on the bathroom sink. My scalp stings a bit as I anxiously reach for the mirror. The cool metal of the mirror handle feels good in my clammy palms. I slowly lift up the mirror to get my first glimpse of gorgeous new hair. “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” I scream. I feel dizzy as I looked at the person in the mirror that had my face but not my hair. The more I looked at the mirror the dizzier I feel. Then the world turned sideways and everything turned black.
When I think of the word "home". I think of some place where I can be myself. A place where my loved ones are with me, making new memories every second of the day. For some, home isn't the word they want to hear. Home is a place where they sit all alone with music blaring, just so they don't hear mom and dad fighting. Home is a place where you don't want to leave your room, because you are worried hurtful words are going to be targeted at you. Home isn't always a great place. In fact, home can be a scary place. But one day you will grow up. One day you will have your own place to call home. One day you will have a place to make your own...
I had always wanted to dye my hair blue. I had been begging my mom for years now and then on my 12th birthday she finally gave in and let me do it. So the next day we went to the salon and met our stylist Jake. He was a good stylist but he didnt know exactly what he was doing. He wasn’t experienced because he quickly does peoples hair and doesn’t take his time. I trusted him thought because he was a very nice guy. I finally got out of that place. I was sitting there for an hour and a half and I was hoping it looked amazing but something went terribly wrong. Jake had misread the bottle and put a sun-colored yellow in my hair. I was devastated. There was nothing I could do. I guess I have to wear a hat from now on.
Jonas awoke from a restless sleep, filled with nightmares of faceless people attacking him and ripping Gabe from his arms. His clothes were stained with tears, but Gabe was still wrapped tight in his arms, shivering. The rain hadn’t stopped, but they had managed to find a tree with long arms stretching around them to keep them drier. Damp and shivering, Jonas attempted to stand but fell to his knees from exhaustion. Gabe whimpered, reaching weakly for an unseen figure. Jonas picked him up again, startled at how cold he had grown. Jonas tucked Gabe into his shirt as he had seen his father do so many times before.
‘Montem Ardere; Theon, the unknown island. Everyone born here lives here and dies here. And everyone that lives and dies here was born here. No maps tell of us, to the world we don't exist. Teal waters on the coastline sparkle in the sunlight, under skies of crystalline blue. In the north is uninhabitable mountains, but stretching from the foothills in the northeast to the northwest is beach. On the beach live the rich and poor, in castles, palaces, shacks and tents. The south beach is called Naomi, the west Gagalo, the east Yura. In the center of it all is Montem Ardere, burning mountain. It is surrounded on the east and south by a desert that stretches to Yura and Naomi. And to the west are the little mountains that also border Gagalo. It is virtually unreachable. But the beachfolk are fine with that.
It was July 13 1998. Jack and his little brother Alex were playing outside in the scorching Florida, summer sun. “Go long” yelled Jack, he throw the football and Alex was off. Alex sprinted across the yard and down the driveway trying to catch the football so maybe jack and his friends would let him join there team. Alex was looking up at the football not paying attention to where he was going. He tripped on his little sisters bike and the football sored passed him. “dang “ Alex though. Jack smirked at Alex as he went to get the football.
The scorching sun was shining on the emaciated infant’s cracked scalp. With a wave of dry air came the shrieking, the wailing, the silence. The child’s creator was trying to shake the baby awake, to no avail. Why do humans always shake the dead? They know in their heart that they are gone and yet humans are so stubborn as to disturb the peacefulness of a corpse. Do not fear me. I simply am and always will be. I am of your doing and thus must act in accordance to your actions. It is a morose business but it does keep me sane. Anyway, enough about me. The offspring’s mother hastily studied every detail of the babies face, as not to forget. She noticed that his crescent-like wine stain was missing. Where the baby had slept there were faint footprints in the golden sand. This creature was not of her blood, I should know. With a cry of anguish the mother fell to her knees. Another note about humans, they seem to be very unbalanced at times and at others are immovable. So strange.
When I first saw what my hair looked like after the hour that I was supposed to wait, I shrieked, I said to myself, How could I be so foolish? Why did I make the mistake of not reading the fine print? My hair looks freakishly bad now, what am I going to do? I thought to myself, Darn it! I’ll have to wait until my entirely purple hair grows out, which will take years!
After the phone book was found and the takeout was ordered, Cleo and Death sat down at a table like the normal people they weren't. "What do you want to do when the food gets here?" "Eat it," said Death. "Someday I'm going to kill you," said Cleo calmly. Death paused. "You do realize how impossible that is?" he said. "Yeah, but I can still...tickle you." "I'm not threatened by that," said Death. "Yeah, well." she said, shrugging. "But seriously. What do you want to do when the food gets here?" "Do you...want to...watch a movie? Maybe?" said Death. "Sure. But something tells me that we don't like the same movies," said Cleo. Death stood up. "What makes you think that?" he asked her, opening a cupboard and taking out a glass. "Because you have bad taste and I have good taste." "You don't even know that yet!" said Death, as he turned on the tap. "I could have better taste than you!"