Creative Writing: Inside Nixies Home

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.

Waves crashed into the small hull, her tiny voice being drowned out by the sound of it. Between the lighting flashes, she sees the two adults race along the boat, securing belongings that had come loose. Her brother sits near her, frightened and crying, yet somehow comforting as her tiny hands cling to his fur. The rain whipped around them, blown about by fierce winds, and she covered her head to protect against the stinging droplets. Another crack echoed in her ears, but this one was not accompanied by thunder. Water rushed over her feet as the hull bent into strange new shapes around her. Another crash of lightning revealed nothing but the now illuminated night sky, roiling with the dark clouds of the storm. Then the cold overwhelmed her, the current dragging her away from her sibling and under the water. Spinning recklessly, she flailed in the depths until the darkness set in, mercifully quieting

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.

I comfortably drive my car into the desolate street, Perusing the deserted buildings, Smashes windows and rusted For Sale signs. The car locked up like Fort Knox. I observe the street for trouble. Two young boys look at me from afar as if I'm an alien. Do I stand out that much same greasy hair, expensive clothes, a smart car I suppose I am out of my comfort zone? “Mister, you don’t belong here” his hand gripped his switch. “Pony.... Ponyboy Curtis” I stammer “I live here or at least I did, I'm here to see two-bit’ The Boys turn around “geez his old now” the boy's chirp. The boys stroll away in awe that they saw the great Ponyboy.

“After defeating the Cyclops Polyphemus, my men grew exhausted. They grew thirsty from rowing under the beating hot sun. Sweat dripped down their heads and the ship’s deck grew moist from the mix of the salty, seawater and sweat. We stopped by on a nearby island.

pents about her ankles. She walked out. The water was chill, but she talked on. The water was deep, but she lifted her white body and reached out with a long, sweeping stroke. The touch of the sea is sensuous, enfolding the body in its soft, close embrace.

Katy meets with Gilbert down at the courthouse and sign documents with him and they hand them in to get stamped with photographers and their parents nearby. Their document is stamped with a void and a different document is put in an envelope and passed to Gilbert. He puts it in his pocket and tries to kiss Katy, but she quickly stepped away from him in fear.

It happened so fast, faster than the speed of light. His face was contorted in such a way I didn’t know what my reaction should be. He looked terrified but yet pensive, like he was floating almost gliding through the wind like a bird. He hit the water with a BAM! And he didn’t rise to the surface like he normally had the previous times we jumped from the tree. He came back up so I knew Finny wasn’t dead but, he half thrashed half swam over to the shore and I instantly knew something was wrong. When I was finally able to see what happened to him after he fell, his leg looked as if someone took a hammer to it. Thankfully I wasn’t alone. Since we were in the midst of our Super Suicide Society of the Summer Session initiation meeting I was accompanied

Upon taking a flashlight, brand new with full battery life, into the tunnel, I found the fuse box that controls the lights overhead. After opening it, I found all the fuses were in perfect condition and functional, once confirming this fact I proceeded to move the switch into an upwards position to test if power was still coming in. To my surprise, the light came on without hesitation, save for the few that blew out instantly. With the lights now on, I ventured farther into the tunnel to record its length and depth. At around one mile in, the smell of decay and old blood was becoming stronger and the walls were beginning to turn red from what I can confirm to be blood, purely that of a

In the books, the young protagonist relishes the feeling of warm, damp sand seeping between her toes and breathes in the thick scent of salty ocean air as she traipses along the Atlantic coast. The sweet sound of laughing children and crashing waves fills her ears, and the cool metal of her sunglasses soothes her skin against the harsh summer heat.

Timmy’s stomach was aching from the food he just scarfed down from his annual Thanksgiving dinner at his Grandma Gill’s mansion in Springfield, Illinois. He was trudging over to the closest couch for a time to give his body a rest from the scrumptious food. All he could think about was getting away from his hideous family to go play video games in his room.

“Hey, This is Liz. You have reached my voicemail, leave a message after the beep. If this is Gibert you’re a loser and stop calling me, haha just kidding love you Gil.”

migraines, she feared getting up abruptly would trigger the habitual nausea, so she took a deep breath and relaxed her tense muscles, opening her senses to her surroundings. A refreshing whiff of salty air filled the room and the distant rumbling sound of crashing waves against rocks soothed her. Those were familiar to her, after living by the ocean for the last four years. Her lips curved up as she smoothed the soft bed linen under her palms. As she stretched on the mattress that hugged her body, she reached up and tucked her hands under the pillow. Extra soft, probably stuffed with goose feathers.

I run my dry thumb over the smooth, fun pink box. The little quarter sized box looked like it couldn't hold much, yet when I shake it the sound of false hail hits my ears. The lid comes open with a pop and you are greeted by the sight of small, round, malformed, bright pink balls. I bounce them some more in their box just to listen to the sound of false rain. When they roll onto my hand, I notice they're so small I almost can't feel them. Their sticky shell makes it hard for me to roll them into my mouth, so I resort to licking them off my palm. Immediately my saliva rushes to meet this new treat. I’m granted the sweet sticky taste they bring. The outer shell falls away to reveal a sour, harder interior. More saliva comes in response

It was a warm, summer day. The waves crashing down on the sand, children and adults alike were laughing. Alia Smith, a 10 year old girl, put a foot in the ocean, shrinking away from the coldness. Something shiny caught her eye, a seashell. She walked towards it, picking it up. Another shimmer caught her eye, even further away from the previous. A third shell caught her eye, and soon, Alia realized she couldn’t see her family.