Creative Writing: Capital Mansion

If you look in the Sayre park art room, you might see someone standing in there painting or drawing or maybe even sculpting with clay. She is very elegant and friendly. But who is she?

Inside the house, it was quite empty. Pure white walls, dark-stained wood flooring, and black furniture. The staircases were wooden and well worn, complementing the intricacies of the shade around the house. Two men walk into the house.

Four friends were going to hang out at Kings Island during Halloween Haunt. Their names are Jane Rogers, April O’Neil, Steve Rogers, and Donatello Hamato.

“I’m Randy Kim, I was a police officer before everything went to shit. Most of these guys are prior law enforcement. Look we’re only trying to protect our own.”

My name is Madison Dalke and I will be renting the 1324 Colorado St Apartment #1 this up coming year. My lease for my previous apartment is over on July 29th at 12:00. I am trying to figure out what to do with my stuff over the weekend. Is it possible to move my things in early to the apartment? If not possible can I leave a U-Haul parked in front of the

One day, I was drawing something when my older sister comes up to me and tells me that she’s going to a place called “La La Land” (more than a decade before the movie, btw). I was too absorbed in my drawing to really care and shrugged it off. She wanders off and I don’t see her for some time.

Needing to see more of the house, I started descending the curved staircase. I stopped halfway down the staircase and savored the view. My eyes wandered around to the rooms that I would no longer use. Rooms that were once filled with people and belongings were now piled high with

I hope this letter finds you well. This trip has been a harrowing journey for me. About half way across the large, blue ocean, a beam was cracked! I was told that the beam offered great support to the ship. It is a wonder that I am still alive and not trapped in Davy Jones’s locker. Oh sister, the storm was horrendous. I was not able to even write because of all the movement of the waves. The waves were three times the size of my house! Thankfully, my husband happened to have a great iron screw that secured the beam in place. Many of the sailors were thankful to have a blacksmith on this boat.

At the first glance inside, the duo, especially Viktor, was surprised by the lack of furniture in the house. Rather, the more noticeable detail that Viktor detected was the amount of scratches along the nearly hueless walls and ceiling, as well as the Latin word meus (which, to Viktor’s knowledge, meant the word “mine”) along the floor’s perimeter. As Toby moved closer to the scratches with his camera, Viktor noticed a line of mysterious, red footprints leading up a long set of stairs, like an eerie trail of breadcrumbs in the Hansel and Gretel

The figure hunched on the icy ground let out a rattling sob; a skinny arm shot from below its robes, sending a bolt of pure white dashing into the cave wall, where it exploded violently into a cluster of vibrant sapphire gemstones. A resonation of depth shook the walls, tiny fragments of ice rained down and skittered across the floor like tiny beads.

It was 8:30 in the morning, on the calm Sunday of November 17, 1963. I was sitting on my couch eating my cereal and listening to the radio. The reporter was talking about how bad the 60s were, then President Kennedy came on and announced that he was going on a trip across the state of Texas. I had church in 30 minutes and my mother was screaming at me to get ready, so I did. I was talking to my friend Kip, when I got to church, and he asked me if I had heard the news yet.

The bus bumps over the pothole as it turns out of the back parking lot of the carefully manicured Midtown Tech property and onto the congested, poorly maintained New York street, weaving deftly and dangerously through the dense, rush hour traffic. The bus carries ten high schoolers, a teacher, and the bus driver. It doesn’t take long for the bus to dead stop on their upcoming journey through Midtown and through Queens, and then deeper into Long Island for the team’s second decathlon meet this season, and the first they’re seriously preparing for.

The only light filtering up the wide spiral staircase came from the gas lamps in one of the rooms on the first floor. The unlit chandelier above the foyer tinkled softly as the wind outside seeped through the cracks and crevices of the mansion on St. Charles. Muted voices drifted from somewhere below. Her father and uncle discussing business, most likely. The few servants still

*To fully understand the story I’m trying to tell you, the story about me, I must start from the events of the past; things that happened long before you and I were even born. Or not? It's hard to say. & short pause& I must warn you too. The things you hear might sound unbelievable, impossible even. I can prove some of them. Some I can't. I need you to trust me.*

He looked up at the house as he slammed the car door. He pressed the lock button on the fob causing the car to beep. “Call my mansion home,” he said to himself as he checked himself in the car window reflection. Straightening his tie, he gave himself a nod of approval and headed to the long stone walkway leading to the house. The heels of his dress shoes clicked on the limestone as he approached. He admired the massive white pillars lining the front of the estate.