Creative Writing: Clydeville

The air held all the magical wonder that was unique to New Orleans. The night sky glowed a faint indigo hovering above the city.

Skylar was a 15 year old in her freshman year of high school along with her two best friends Tucker and Charlotte. Skylar had long brown silky hair, which she always wore up either in a ponytail or some type of braid. Skylar loved to wear skinny jeans, converse, and sweatshirts. Her eyes were a mixture of a green and darker orange color. Skylar was very confident around people that she was most comfortable with. Otherwise, she was very shy and quiet around others. Charlotte was blonde with her hair always flowing down her back. Charlotte wore pretty much the same thing as Skylar except she liked to wear actual t-shirts. Charlotte has bright blue eyes that everyone wished they had. Charlotte didn’t care what others thought so she was always

We all got out of the car and started walking to the back of the house to the fire. Where we noticed that no one was there. We all ran back to K-Art’s car. When two clowns showed up but later we found out it was just John and Kesten trying to be funny.

John pulled up to the rocky crooked edged driveway, he left his family in the car to check the house out. He came to an old brick mansion with green dull vines like sinister snakes along the sides of the outside wall. John saw the door open automatically, his bones were rattling in his body as if they were shouting to each other. He walked up the stairs that lead in the house as they screamed to him, it was like a girl dyeing painfully. He stepped in the house cautiously. A laugh appeared in the hallway. It was a deep laugh as if it was echoing throughout your ears. Footsteps came towards him slowly. They were moving so quickly you could barely here the floorboards creaking. The sound of the footsteps hauling though the house made john scared.

The room I was in was a cell and there was blood stains all over the walls. Then the floor was covered in bones and flesh that was rotting. I then realized I was hanging from the ceiling I was attached by a thick leather rope. I heard footsteps and my heart stopped. It was the man but he had a mask a mime mask. He held one thing in each hand one was a key the other was a long sharp knife. I wanted to scream but I couldn’t shock had overwhelmed me and all I could do is stare. He slowly opened the door and said with a sigh “I am sorry for such harsh conditions but it has to be done, you see I need your body for my collage”. Then he took the knife and dug it into my shoulder slowing the pain was unbearable. He was carving my cutting me to shreds I cried in agony and pain then he stopped he forcefully jabbed the knife into my collarbone and chuckled “Be right back don’t go anywhere”. He strood of comly singing the phantom of the

The driver, Cecilia Blair, of vehicle 1 was traveling north through the intersection of N. State St. and Flint St. when she had a collision with vehicle 2. The driver, Jacqueline Muir, of vehicle 2 was heading west on Flint St. when she was struck by vehicle 1.

Jump!!! My dog jumps on my bed looking at me. I could tell he was going to bark closing my ears from the loud screechy bark. And then he jumps off my bed only to play with his rope. I sit up staring at my phone that was bright I look at my dog waiting for me to get up.

The streets of South Bellevue are some to never be forgotten. The neighborhood is filled with the joyous laughter of children and the archaic wisdom of the elderly. It is one of the few amicable communities among the busy city. Bellevue shields it’s people like a mom who graciously protects her young from the dangers of the outside world. Bellevue is a wonderful neighborhood with a variety of individual experiences.

Welcome to Sandersville, Georgia. A quaint, little town nestled in Washington County with a population of under 6,000. Seated happily in the Bible Belt, there are more churches than gas stations in the Southern city. We pass the only gas station for miles on the corner of the main street as my family heads to my Aunt’s house. The drive from Atlanta to Sandersville was slower than molasses running up hill—at least according to my mother. Sara Armour is the epitome of the southern belle. A well-spoken lady, she was born in Atlanta, but raised in Milledgeville, GA following her parents’ divorce. With bright red lipstick and a blonde bob, she looks like the carbon copy of her older sisters in that musty kitchen

The weather was pleasant, with cloudless blue skies and the air heavy with birdsong along their route. Accompanying those who were being sent to assess the damage at the Salsolan Outpost had been a choice — the same way drinking when thirsty was a choice — and bringing her slave had been just another facet.

My name is Jeffrey I was born in Mississippi 1989,June 9 where I came from a trailer there.We spent most of our life there in Mississippi. We made kin friends kinda more that family than friends and had a couple of hilarious jests together I felt like I was gunna spend the rest of my life there but I guess not.My family got into some trouble gambling so me and my family was thinking to flee and go to Alabama.So we took a destination stay with Aunt Sheela for a a week or a month to see if we can find a way to get out of this trouble.

Soggy streets, bland houses, and terrified citizens fill Rivertown, Virginia. Dark, gloomy weather has been rampaging since the death of a freshman at Rivertown High School, six months ago. The leafy, emerald pines that make up the forests of this small city, have been dulled by the rain and lightning. These forests are now considered dangerous due to the mud, roots, and the hills that are scattered across the land. Disappearances of more high schoolers in the area have the whole state terrified.

The storm erupted minutes after Casey returned to the main highway. Lightning streaked in double succession sideways and downwards in a fantastic show of Mother Nature’s wrath.

The town hadn’t changed much since Bonnie had left and ever since she had returned, she felt more out of place then any. Mystic Falls used to be a home that Bonnie could always come back to, no matter how bad life got out there. Since returning, Bonnie hadn’t been able to really take to Caroline or Elena for the simple fact she didn’t know how to even address the subject. It wasn’t her friend’s fault that her Grams was now gone but they did play a key role in it. Coming back was a lot more painful then she had presumed and for safety reasons, she continued to lock herself away from her friends.

For my trip to Louisiana I would bring along two of my friends. I would bring along Granddaddy Cain, because on car rides it is better to have Quality Company than to have quantity in company. One quality of his that I admire is that he is described as “tall and quiet like a king” (Bambara, 67). This quality is repeated twice in the story and is inferred from the description of his large hands. Another good quality is his manners in which he deals with the two men. He starts out nice and welcomes both men “like he’d invited them to play cards and they’d stay too long” (68). After Cathy describes how his coworkers would describe him granddaddy Cain. He then gives the two men a reason to leave by swatting at their camera and makes it hit the