Creative Writing: Drip

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.

The young woman opened up her door and immediately felt that sense of uneasiness again even though her home was full of light. She could hear the water running in the bathroom and figured that her boyfriend, James, was just taking his usual night shower. She went into the kitchen to get a quick drink of water. As she drank the cool liquid she felt an immense feeling of relief. She advanced toward the bathroom. She walked down the hallway heading towards the closed bathroom door. Alecia felt a sense of panic and anxiety when she felt her foot become slightly submerged in a liquid on the floor.

Payback time, I thought, as I turned on the tap and let the cold water sting my wound. I searched the metal cabinet under the sink with my free hand until I found a dented aluminum saucepan left behind by a previous tenant. Perfect. Filling it with cold water, I returned to the bar and stood over Margery feeling almost

“Yes I am dad.” Kevin screaming at the top of his lungs,” Mr.Cromwell needs to go!” While Howie and Kevin argued ,Cromwell was over there eating Kevin’s breakfast, waffles. It was too late, Howie and Kevin turned around ,the waffles were gone.Kevin and Howie went straight over to doggy daycare. Cromwell had stayed 1 hour knowing he wanted to leave.

“Some people say I was lucky to survive, other will say I deserved it for the choice I made. I’m here to say I was lucky, it’s never ok to say your life isn’t worth living even at your worst you can always look forward tomorrow will come and if you put your mind to it you’ll see that anything is possible.” – Stephen McGregor Professional Paralympian

Tom Wilkes lurched forward from his usual nightmare with sweat dripping from his face. He didn’t notice his hands were shaking more violently than normal as he reached for his glasses. This particular routine was nothing new, but this was the fourth night without a break from the violent awakening. The alarm clock read 4:40 A.M. Tom was surprised it wasn’t earlier, he let out a deep sigh and began his journey to the living room. The apartment was dainty but the lack of things furnishing it skewed the perception. The living room only contained a small futon and a 13” JVC Television, the television was unplugged and hadn’t been on for months. The small kitchen table was littered with empty royal crown and spring water bottles. Tom walked to the

Sunshine was pouring out from in between the buildings, casting shadows all around Ponyboy and the gang as they walked to Pony’s school. They were taking their time walking down the streets and for the first time they all were really seeing what was all around them. Memories were surfacing in their minds showing them what it all meant to them. With every step they took on the sidewalk they remembered a different memory as if they were walking down memory lane. Ponyboy didn’t think it was possible for him to be walking down this street for the last time as a high school student, but he had gone through the years with great grades that earned him many scholarships.

For days he stayed there, curled up by the wall. The sun would rise, somewhere, illumine the mouth of his pitiful den, grace the cold rock in front of him with a soft blue sheen, and set again, immersing his life in empty darkness. One day, two, three, he stopped counting, buried his mind in the chambers of his soul where a soft dim warmth still glowed. Waves of grief passed through, turned him over in riptides of hungriest despair, roaring death pounded nightly at his door, and then, hearing no answer, tore away again, letting warm comfort envelop him and soothe his damaged

My new partner, Jack, was a tall man, guessing he got deported down here, because I have never seen him previously. Moreover, we introduced ourselves, we made small talk but quickly got into the case. Looking at the murder scene, everything seemed a little off. The evidence that was here for us did not look like it was from a normal murderer, it seemed to have come from a person intelligent enough to hide who they were. There were no fingertips, no hair, no left weapon, everything seemed like the murderer planned everything out perfectly. Gathering as much evidence as we could, we head back to the police department. As we entered the department, I noticed that Jessica’s desk was cleared. Bewildered, me and Jack go to the upstairs room to run the files. “We think we know who murdered the sheriff, but no one wants to point fingers without evidence”, as Jack opened the door for me. Walking in, thoughts run through my head, it couldn't of been Jessica, could

Which was the reason why I hated Eros. I hated that I loved him. I hated that his one glance on me could lift up my mood instantly. For the last six years, ever since Mom and I moved to New York, I have been madly in love with the most unreachable guy in our school.

My mother used to say, "You're like a bull in a china shop." That was quite a bit of intelligent words coming from the mouth of a mama mouse. She had obviously been referring to my clumsy mistake of breaking our lovely living room lamp, which was bought for her by my grandfather, her father, which she had adored. She loved that lamp. I felt ashamed for breaking it, but I had a different feeling towards what she said than she had wanted me to.

We are the ones taught not to speak as silence is our code of arms.

With the grace and speed of a desert falcon sweeping across the sand dunes, Kian descended the grand staircase. Made of fifty-two, white-smoked, stone steps; he could easily have dropped to the cathedral-sized foyer below, instead, preferred to walk. With each agile footstep, he expected to chance upon a hunter or two, perhaps even members of the household staff.

"Wake up, partners," the trail boss, James called. I sleepily looked up , shivered, and saw I was the only one not up. "Here," James said, giving me the horses' bridles and saddles. "Take these and get the horses ready. We have a long day today." I groaned in reply and set up the horses for the day's long drag. I was the horse wrangler and this was my everyday job but I still couldn't get use to the idea of waking up before the sun and working. We drove the cattle into open plains against the winter's cold wrath.

Meanwhile Nick, Russ , Ron, and I were standing in the jungle of our lawn. All of the sudden,we saw some humongous water bombs. Then Ron said “What do we do Amy.”