yeah, this is a piece i wrote in the 9th grade. i like it, maybe someone else will. it's not my best work though. I'm new, and Lisa. and i will post more stuff as time goes by. im in a hurry though, or i would have picked a different storie.
Flower Picture
The dishes clashed, and Sandra Faulkner sat contemplating the abuse she had just experience. Her husband, a drunken fool, had chosen tonight to be the night of pure and utter chaos. Sandra had been slapped across her pale face, and punched painfully in her stomach, when her husband finally passed out from the alcohol. She then grabbed her green corduroy jacket and swung it over her shoulder. Though her coat was of color, she felt no color at all. Her tan floppy hat was hanging on the wall, so she reached for it as she wished herself out her glass front door. With no time to waste, she bolted down the street and onto the subway. It was cold and full of unfamiliar faces. The train went very fast as it flew through cities and towns. Finally it stopped, and she made her way up the dark hallway, and onto the street above. Freezing rain was now falling, so Sandra placed her coat over her dripping arms. She made her way across the busy New York Street and into the small café. *The café smelled of sweet raspberries and sour lemons. The air was thick with odd couples chatting about their comings and goings. Sandra found a small table just big enough for 2, and sat herself down. She placed her large tan colored floppy hat upon her red, wet curls. The hat drooped well over her ears, and covered much of her small wet forehead. A small boy around the age of eighteen placed a teacup in front of her, with 2 words drifting in the air; “No Charge.” Sandra gripped the cup’s handle tightly with her right hand. She looked into the cup and smelled it. Mmmm. The sweet smell of cinnamon and peppermint. She sipped at, and the taste of her once childhood flooded back to her. She could have sworn she smelled her grandfather. His suit smelling of pipe-tobacco and fresh mint leafs. Sandra closed her eyes, picturing him smiling down at her with his big white and gold teeth. Then reality seemed to strike her. She was alone. Still holding her teacup she examined the café. It was small, with brown colored walls, and a very realistic picture of flowers was hanging behind her. She looked at the flowers and became confused. It was as if the flowers were awaiting someone. She turned back to her teacup, and sipped once more. She knew what she now had to do. So, she placed three coins on the table, consisting of a dime and two quarters. She then stood up, and turned toward the picture. Than inch by inch she climbed through the portrait and stood calmly by the flowers as if nothing had happened. Now, instead of a frown she held a large, pink colored smile that stretched almost from ear to ear. Then like a wave of relief she could feel the color rushing back to her. She was safe.
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- Current Mood
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anxious
also, if you read my story i posted, just so ya know, i write about weird stuff. im not some girlish weird writer though. i've been writing for a long time, and thats just something i grabbed last min. so, don't get the wrong impression. alright, bye.
Hi hi. I'm new here, and thought I'd introduce myself. Erm...hi...(^.^)/
Hey, it's been a long while since i posted, but here's anew poem clebrating the new year, it could use some serious editing so if you have any idea's, it would be appreaciated.
New Years
A ball flowing down
counts down the
year
People gather in
the square
Fire blooms in the
Sky.
As the weather
turns cold
Time begins again
In the new year.
