Creativity641

Woven from feelings of happiness and friendship, short-lived as those feelings may be.

Woven from a cat’s meow and a dog’s tail wag.

Woven from ideals of love and compassion.

Woven from goodness itself.

Do you hear our voices? Our voices longing to be free? Our voices that are suppressed time and time again? Simply because of our identities?

Winter. A time of year we all know well.

A time of year when we hear the ringing of every bell.

A time of year when adults laugh and children play,

A time of year that lasts many a day.

She sat on the steps, enjoying the brisk autumn air. It was the day before Halloween and the smell of cinnamon hung in the air. She knew she’d have to go in soon, but for now life was perfect.

8/15/1774

Monday

Dear Diary,

Today was strange. I met a man riding a mule. He was a queer looking sorta man, all sticks and bones and hair. He even had an eye-patch!

Lily gazed out the window of carriage. She had rarely been outside the Manor, so everything seemed new, even the flowers on the side of the road. Earnest was very boring. He had barely talked to her the whole carriage ride.