Creative Writing: Nellie

The forest behind Aiden's house were thick, and stretched on for miles. Tall pines, maples, and oaks reached up from the ground, their green and scarlet tipped fingers scraping the sky. Green-gold morning light filtered through the dense canopy above his head, and a few early fallen leaves crunched beneath his feet. A lazy stream trickled its way through the tangle of roots and heavy underbrush, gurgling softly as it went; the scales of small fish flashing below its crystal surface.

To read of Nellie Bly, one would come to think the woman a pioneer in journalism; a hero for women's rights; and an American icon. These beliefs would be true if not for the fact that Bly was so much more. She was much more a woman, much more a writer, much more a hero and much more than most could ever be. Bly not only took on a world of injustice and stereotypes, but conquered it and changed the way the field of journalism works today.

Starting a career in the music industry is a difficult task. There are many important steps that you need to take along the way, and the path is often long and confusing. The people that you meet along the way will guide you along this path, and hopefully help you become a music industry success story. The goal is to not let your message get jumbled and distorted beyond your control and lead you to disaster.

Since DK was officially disbanded in ’09, I took a full year to spend with my husband and focus on the next journey. Then I headed down to Nashville. Started writing and really exploring the type of sound I wanted. The process is still moving forward. I’m not working with a label, which means a lot of creative freedom, but it also means the process takes a lot longer if you want to do it right.

“No, you can't make me come with you. I don’t want to face it,” Genevieve screamed.

Eleanor doesn’t dodge the second punch. It hits her ear and she crumbles to the floor. The stench of blood takes over her senses and makes her head spin. A sharp kick to her ribs makes her scream. Eleanor isn’t used to physical beatings such as this --  emotional yes, but not physical. Bodily pain is something she doesn’t know how to deal with.

1101- Already renewed her lease. Resident is requesting vinyl and carpet in bedrooms. Please let me know by what day can you walk this apartment?

A day in the life of hair is not easy. Like, getting wedged in braids, getting dyed, having lice crawling around you (which is itchy) or getting shaved into stubble. People can take good care of their hair and others, it's just a feature. However, Hannah is a whole different story. If you looked at Hannah you would just see a twelve-year-old girl with dimples and dark, kinky hair. Hannah and I have a rapport relationship. I'm on top of her head watching her grow up into an intelligent teenager. I'm the dark, kinky hair and I have been here for the tough times like when her dad had died and when she got bullied in third grade for having a wonky smile. She would

Long long ago in a house, where rumors were heard of a demon killing innocent souls there lived a man named Matthew. Matthew was a single man but, he had the biggest crush on a girl named Leanna. She never really paid any attention to matthew due to the fact he lived in a dark house up on wurdack hill. It was a creepy castle that was built there long ago. Leanna was a girl who never really was a fan of scary things. Infact every time she would walk past there was a beep in her left ear for some reason. She

Snow gushed its way into the breeze, targeting the Washington cabin that you and your friends resided in. You were standing next to Beth -- one of the Washington siblings that own the cabin. You released an inaudible sigh before resting your elbows on the window sill, focusing on the leaves that were blanketed within the snowstorm. You could practically feel Beth squint as you applied more pressure on the wooden sill, making it creak with age.

Remy Anderson’s footsteps echoed in the empty hallway as she climbed the stairs to her best friend’s apartment. The trek to the third floor was no easy feat considering that she was toting a duffel bag, a backpack, and a half-eaten pumpkin pie. Arriving at their apartment door, she rang the bell and waited in the dull glow of the gold chandelier.

I decided against being sarcastic and to be nice instead. I put on my nicest smile, but thinking in the corner of my mind of the many insults I could dish out.

Veronica sat up, groaning, and surveyed her surroundings. Right, Logan’s- the floor. So much for pretending that was a really long, late-night-chocolate-influenced dream.

Caitlin’s first reaction was a mixture of relief and joy, turning around on her chair, ready to go check on Barry, but the second she got a view on the moving speedster, moving on the bed, her mind froze, bombarding her with images of Barry’s cruel, merciless, smile right as he was about to murder her in cold blood. Worse than cold blood, murdering her with sickening pleasure.

What's there to say Bri-Anne you are poetry. The thin lines decorating your hands are the black ink that marks a lined page, the beat of your heart is a steady stream of words with perfect rhythm. You are the words I breath and the rhymes I arrange and the ink flowing out of my pen. You are the thoughts in my head that I put down on paper. You are the everlasting memories that words create. You are permanent and beautiful. Your my wonderwall, you make me smile without even doing anything and when you smile back all I can say is wow. You've been a great friend and you've someone how managed to put up with the mess I am haha. Like you're the bomb. com and have been an exceptional "Master". I know your not gonna want to hear this, but I'm selfish.