Creative Writing: Get Rid Of The Pain

“Wake up,” that’s what I heard after passing out from all the blows to the face. My vision is blurred I’m trying to stay awake but I lost consciousness; all of a sudden I felt a splash of coldness on my face, and I woke up gasping for air. The man with the deep ominous voice said, “Wakey wakey little man” I replied, “where the h*ll is Mako!” when I was fully aware of where I was, that’s when I started to panic.

“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

“Anything that can help us find out who did this.” I said, examining the crime scene. I walked towards what used to be the glass case that held the crown, but was now a useless, shattered cube.

At some point, she decides to stop running. It’s been hours or minutes, she doesn’t know and for once she doesn’t care. All she knows is if she doesn’t find refuge soon, she’ll collapse and it’s better to do that someplace that feels secure than in the open.

“Mrs. Mitchell is in critical condition.” Lydia’s face crumpled and she was about to give up hope when the doctor spoke again. “Her legs are both broken and, due to the lengthy time spent without access to blood, almost completely dead. She has two broken ribs, a broken arm, and a minor concussion. Luckily, there was no damage to the brain. I know this must be so hard for you both, but chin up! Although she will never walk again, we are almost positive that we will be able to heal her broken bones and her other minor injuries.” At Lydia’s concerned look, he clarified. “By minor injuries, I simply mean cuts, gashes, bruises and the like. In conclusion, we will be able to help Mrs. Mitchell, but she will have to stay overnight, perhaps for a week or two. Do the two of you need a place to stay?” After the pair mutely shook their heads, Mr. Hal walked up to the front desk, paid the bill, and drove Lydia to his house in silence. “You can stay here until we get your house fixed up,” he told her as they hopped out of the wagon

Leaves glistened in the moonlight, as the wind howled in despair. I found myself alone, in the darkness, as I noticed a slim figure walking towards me. Adrenaline rushed through my veins, as the individual walking towards me appeared to be a stranger. As the silhouette came closer, I realized that it was my dear aunt. Her face beamed with excitement, and she grabbed me into a tight embrace. “I am moving on,” she informed me as the corners of her mouth pulled into a genuine smile. She then turned around and began to gracefully amble out of the hinterland, as her shadow disappeared within the ominous darkness. I became aware that I was merely in a dream that was only a product of my subconscious mind. I became lucid, as relief washed over

I put out my arm, and she took my hand. I helped her up, and she skipped at my side. Her hair bobbed up and down, and her shoes made a squeaking sound every time she skipped. "Do you realize how not normal you

“It most certainly is not,” retorted Phillie. “Freddie is that terrible man from those awful movies made years ago. The man who would attack children in their sleep.”

Almost instantly, River picked up his feet, sprinting faster and faster through the large crowds of people. A wide grin on his lips as he held the bread in his mouth still, cascading down the busy roads, avoiding cars and people along the way. A few of the pedestrians tried to even help the officer behind him by grabbing the white-haired perp. However, it seemed the boy's lightning fast reflexes resulted in them missing every time. With only a few who grazed his hoodie barely.

Corey: Dude! Why have you been ignoring me? And why do you look so down?

I hunkered down behind the massive boulder and managed to wedge myself between it and another stone and I kicked out. It didn’t budge. I shoved again, harder, but it wouldn’t give an inch. My only option was to use

"You're ten centimeters dilated, Clara, you can start to push whenever you feel the urge to," instructed the nurse. Through tired eyes, Clara looked over to her husband for encouragement and received a reassuring smile.

The man she watches controls the reality. Controls the very threads of existence, weaves his way through to create something bigger than him. It's sickening, really. Revolting is a better word for it. For some reason she keeps watching him, though. He has small habits that are hard for the eye to see, like subconsciously rubbing the Eye of Agamoto when he is nervous (Or if. The man was hardly nervous), or running his hands through his thick ebony hair. She did notice, however, that his hair is not all the silky raven color. Bits on the side are grayish white, staining his imperfection. It is the little things that catch her eye.

Benji Jeffers sat in silence. He plopped himself down on a rock, slumping into a lazy posture, and stared. Something about his demeanor was eerily calm, looking back on it. After all, we were, in fact, stranded.

“Why does everytime I think about my mom I start to cry? Why is it that a memory of her just hurts so badly?” Arida kept asking her self. “Her beautiful smile, her gorgeous skin, long hair everything about her was perfect.” She was our backbone she brought in the money. Now we have very little . “Earth to Adria, hellooooo!!!!” said her best friend Jace.