Creative Writing : My Life

One day, cutting through the swamp, David comes across the remains of old Indian souls and discovers a skull with jewelry still buried on the bodies. As David kicks at the skull, he hears a voice and looks up to see a black man seated on a stump just looking. The man, wearing a black sash around his body, has a soot-stained face, which makes it appear as if he works in some fiery place. David soon recognizes the stranger as the devil, the black man. Twenty years later we had a family reunion with all my relatives and they started talking about the fire.

“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

"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.

After saying goodnight to Simon and Magnus, Clary quickly shut the door to the library. The hallway was silent and still as the ocean tide, she had heard Lilian call for her just as her best friends in the world told her their goodbyes for the night. Magnus had conjured up a portal which would take him and Simon back to the village where they lived. Simon lived in a simple but modest house, on the outskirts of town, on a farm with his Mother and older sister. Magnus however, resided in a small, comfortable loft just above the local clothing store.

Laurel nodded her head when she heard that Zinda would be willing to aid her in her efforts of keeping the city running smoothly. “With that attitude I think Ryder will love you.” She stated with a small laugh, her head shook from side to side. “Even before the outbreak I always had a hard time sleeping.” She reached her right hand up and placed it against the back of her neck, rubbing at it. “So it really doesn’t bother me all that much.” She nodded her head. She knew what Zinda said was true, that she should try and sleep more but that seemed easier said than done. She really tried to sleep at night sleep just seemed to elude her, it was never there when she really need it. Like the night they got back from the Farmhouse, all she wanted to do was fall asleep and forget the whole events that had taken place there. Sadly that didn’t happen, she stayed up all night thinking about how she could have done thing differently, that she should have stayed with Kate.

After John harnessed the team to the wagon, he, Charity, and Charles loaded Uriah into it. She and Charles then headed to town with him. She left John and Martha Jane to watch over the younger children, with strict orders that they had all better be on their best behavior until her return. John was nearly twelve; she figured he ought to be capable of watching the little ones.

Drenched and frozen, only the warmth from their mothers’ kept the young creatures sustained. The trees’ limbs hung low from the weight of the swampy atmosphere; causing the joyous ambience of the forest to restrain her passion.

If he had been human, everything would have been easier. Hal's life would have been so much better; he wouldn't have been forced to fight, or be controlled by the code in his head. He would have grown into a different, maybe better person. But then, they would still be stuck in the compound, still there when the bots had malfunctioned, and they may have not even escaped. Perhaps they would have died an untimely death and not have escaped into the wastes and would be left to rot in the desecrated compound, forgotten, and the only sign they were there were their desecrated skeletons, and even those would be ground away by the sands of time until they eventually became nothing. It was a pity that they would meet that fate regardless; Dirk would

It was dark when I arrived at the village. People were going about their nightly chores before they retired for the night. They quickly escorted me to the wigwam of a woman who was in labour.

A child runs inside a small classroom gathering his thoughts wondering what he saw. Bewildered by what he had just seen he had become so frightened he hadn’t realized his hands were shaking. Collecting his thoughts he remembered that he heard a banging on a door someone opened it and a man with patches of flesh missing ran up and bit the student who opened the door. Dumbfound by the whole experience he began barricading the door shut and looking for something to defend himself with. Easily finding a meter stick as he entered a mathematics classroom he began sharpening it scared stiff the entire time. Finally he felt safe although he could hear running and screaming every second coming from outside the doors. Getting up he finally had the strength

Liam woke up late one night to his phone ringing. Groaning he turned on the lamp and grabbed his phone from the night stand. Who was calling him at this ungodly hour? Liam shielded his eyes from the light. After a couple of seconds Liam’s eyes finally adjusted to the brightness.

"Sometimes you gotta let something bad happen, or else you wont know how to fix things when they go wrong later."

The arena was jammed packed; it's occupants attention directed straight towards the stage. They were awaiting a man. A man who would fall in their midst soon, but a man they wanted to see nonetheless. On this stage, there were two red curtains on each side and the floor was lined with redwood. The arena itself had a theater like build to it. In the suburbs of Philadelphia, a venue of this sorts carried a sort of perplex bewilderment to it. It's presence in the city was admired, but at the same time gave a peculiar feel to the residents nearby. It was a like a shining Cathedral in a poverty ridden city; like a single Skyscraper in a agricultural landscape. It didn't quite fit it.

I laid on the cold soil in a pool of my own blood, the air in my lungs depleting, my heart thumping fast, yet I couldn't help but think about the irony in my stupidity.

The silence echoes around the room, dripping from the walls and puddling in her head. She takes a step in the direction of the swirling dark tower. It erupts from the ground like a bone from the skin of a child. Her feet feel like weights, trying to hold her back, keep her from the pain. But there is something that keeps her going, some sort of sick twisted part of herself she keeps hidden in the depths of her mind. She reaches the base of the tower and looks up.