Creative Writing: Diana Prescott

Lila lay on her bed staring at the ceiling thinking over the events of the evening. The more she recalled, the more she was mortified for acting like a love sick, slobbering idiot in front of not only the most beautiful man she’d ever met, but he was her best friends cousin of all things! Lila groaned, burying her head into her pillow. She tried to console herself by thinking she would never see him again. She could avoid him by simply not going back there. It wouldn’t be too difficult to do. She would never have the guts to venture to a club like that on her own. This is exactly the reason that Rachael had taken her there. Lila was trying to convince herself he was charming to all the ladies. He worked at a night club. Of course he would

This focus on eyes alerts the reader to pay close attention not only to Hazel’s eyes and what he sees, but also what others may be seeing. Even Hazel’s name is linked to the imagery of eyes, as hazel is both a common eye color and Hazel’s vision is often “hazy” or stuck in a “haze”.

She begins with the metaphor “new eyes” (Allison 115) to describe her fear that her lover might think of her differently after meeting the family, “I was afraid that she might see me through new eyes…” (115). Allison reemphasizes this by using the same metaphor in the following paragraph to describe the confirmation of her fears, “My lover did indeed see me with new eyes.” (115). The feeling of freedom she describes in her

Recently, I just finished reading Through The Fire by Shawn Grady, Shawn has served for than a decade as a firefighter and paramedic in Reno, NV, where he lives with his wife and three children. He was named “most promising writer” at the 2008 Mt. Hermon writers conference. This is his debut novel.

Arising from her perch, she held out her hand for her date to grace with his lips. There was a slight pause as she did, her brow quirking up expectantly as she held his gaze. It wasn’t a difficult thing to do, since there was something in his eyes that reminded her of his brother. However, in that same breadth, she found herself glancing away -- the memories of the masquerade too fresh, too soon. “Everett,” she greeted, a playful smile ghosting across her lips as she pointedly glanced at her outstretched hand. “Thank you for meeting me on such short notice. I wish I could have found a more convenient time for us both -- but, in light of recent events, such an endeavor seems more or less

“Look alive kid!” “Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted?” Dad was right. I did want this. Big house. Big School. New, nice car. Yeah but something just didn’t feel right.

He was amused by her, more so than he had expected, after all she was a Princess, but he could see it in the way she held herself that she was a women of class. She was strong, wise, and he had to guess she understood the matters of men better than any other women of her breed. She stood as if without all signs of fear, and her eyes they challenged him, but not so much aggressively as it was plain and simple. As if her words could be spoken through those eyes, and perhaps they could be, he was uncertain of that right now. He was certain however that this little gambit would set the tide of power in the Country for years to come. This was not only the last of his moves, it also happened to be the most risky. He put all his money in one pot and

Beth was raised by the mob. She’s never gotten herself into a situation her family couldn’t drag her out. So when those closest to her wind up dead or missing, she’s left to her own devices. She quickly realizes how hard it is to survive on her own.

Elise Davenport was not having a good night. Just the day before she put her whole career on the line thanks to a few glasses of champagne. Loose lips can sink ships, and they can obliterate your social status. So here she was, stumbling through Fairhaven Park in pitch blackness, looking for the cabin she rented. She'd just hung up the phone with her agent when she heard the rumbling growl come from beside her. Not a good night at all...

“Even when she and Peris used to spy on them from the shadows, giggling at all the stupid things the pretties said and did, they couldn't resist staring. There was something magic in their large and perfect eyes, something that made you want to pay attention to whatever they said, to protect them from any danger, to make them happy. They were so... pretty.”

Cole browsed her movie collection. He wasn't ready for his time with Jordyn to come to an end, but he knew they would be over soon. After a few minutes, he realized he wasn't going to find anything but romantic comedies. He popped in a wedding comedy, and she curled up next to him on the sofa. He inhaled her coconut scented lotion as she draped a throw blanket over her legs. His mouth watered and not for the dessert he brought over. She smelled delicious. He still hadn't gotten more than a kiss on the cheek from Jordyn.

The office smells faintly of smoke and dried ink. Ceiling lights reflect sharply off wire rimmed glasses. I can’t see his eyes. That's a good thing; eyes are dangerous. It’s hard to focus when you’re wondering what the underlying glints mean, what they know. Eyes pick you apart and toss your innards to the wind. I once had a friend who said she could drown in a man’s blue eyes. Drowning doesn’t sound enjoyable.

Next, Isobelle started on my makeup. It was 4:30 already and we still had to put on my dress, shoes, and jewelry. "What color is your dress"? Asked Isobelle. I told her it was black and she got to work. I tried to sneak glances in the mirror but she wouldn 't let me. After lots of foundations and eye makeup, I was ready. She turned the chair around and showed me what I looked like. I couldn 't believe what she had done. My eyes were a smokey black that brought out the blue in them. My hair looked even more stunning. It was all elegant, yet simple. I slipped on my dress and put on my earrings. I decided to take

Now, her lips played out the beginnings of a smile, but reviving the tired expression was starting to feel like digging trenches through concrete. It made her sore all over, a running ache that seemed to swirl like a river, tugging at the soles of her feet, willing her to move. Suddenly she wanted to grab her sword and run off with the night, take solace under the stars. The events of the evening were tumbling through her mind, and she had a galling suspicion that she had chosen the wrong course. Perhaps Ramona was not the girl she should have selected for her Starry Night tryst. And, of course, her heart was laughing at her all the way: like she ever had a choice in the matter, like she wasn't just a meaningless bag of biological parts with her free will skewered in the steel trap of fate and providence.