Creative Writing: The American Dream

The forest had gone.... and the Witch looked much younger. Audette opened her eyes and had found herself upon a brow of white lilies. The shape of the shrouded old woman seemed changed. Having turned around, and opened her mantle to the tearing gusts, Meliza revealed to the young lady two streams of shinging blackness and smooth white flesh. Audette stopped in her tracks.

The drive home was difficult; his vision swam and his muscles felt stiff and achy. Too bright city lights glared at him, pierced his eyes. His head throbbed, beat, beat, beat, in rhythm with his racing heart. Nausea rocked in his stomach and every noise seemed amplified. Why were these damn people driving so slowly? He needed to get home; he was already late as it was, and his father wouldn't be pleased. Leaving the glowing city behind him, Aiden found slight relief in the peaceful country roads and sharp peppermint smelling pines that surrounded his home, if you could call it that.

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.

Weeks later, as Snowman stares into the familiar bright green eyes, he thinks back to what led him here, forgetting the fact that in a few moments, his whole world will be turned upside down.

It was unclear what exactly woke up the small elf, maybe the unfamiliar sounds of horse hooves against the ground, maybe the bright sunlight shining through the sparse forest, maybe the motions of the carriage from the uneven terrain, or some divine forsaken mixture of the three. When she attempted raising her arms to shield her eyes from the harsh light, she discovered that they had been bound together, and rather tightly at that. 'Great,' she thought to herself.

We arrived at D.C. The imprisoned citizens cheered to find themselves freed from the grasp of chains. I smiled a little. I got off the horse and so did Jonathan and the little kid. I tried to pet it again. Its head pushed against my chest softly and snorted, “ what should I name you stallion?” I thought for awhile and found a name for the horse, Night’s-Edge, Night for short. I pet Night’s ear and sighed then put her on a stall to wait for my return, “ i’ll be back, Night. I promise” Night snorts then looks away and eats the grass. The little child that was on Night with me and Jonathan tugged at my pants a little to get my attention. I looked at the child and he looks at my eyes with fear, “ what’s the matter?” the child looks down and whimpers

there was once a man named trump who wanted to give Hillary a thump when he tried she stepped aside and gave him a bump in the rump his skin a orange as the California sun a smile that made children want to run such a man whom all loved to hate with a belly that made you wonder what he ate he wished to "make america great again" He disrespects women and only likes mie he was a violent soul to manys' dislike with a voice that sounded like a motorbike however he would still bellow of how he was just a common fellow With a loan of a million dollars from his father To start his business, though no one would bother Failure after failure with no success He now tries to add a nation to his mess Is this this the best that we could possibly suggest.

I stare at the bag sitting in the locker, wondering what is buzzing around in Christian’s head. “Wow. That was… sad,” I say laughing. Christian blushes a light pink and rolls his eyes.

Sue froze where she stood, frozen for what must have felt like hours. “You mean, he waited all of this time to paint his masterpiece and not only did he paint it for me but – he used his life to paint it.” Sue was overwhelmed at the thought, she was the reason Mr. Behrman had gone out that night, she was the reason he had passed away. “I caused his demise, my own selfishness did this!” Sue cried. Johnsy quickly took hold of Sue’s hands and said to her: “No darling, you did just the opposite, you showed Mr. Behrman what he had been looking for, for these years. You inspired his masterpiece!” Understanding then that Mr. Behrman’s sacrifice for her, was no sacrifice at all, his dream had been fulfilled and he had continued his journey. At that

It is three years into the war, WWII, and Oscar is turning seven tomorrow. Although the sun is creeping under the horizon, Oscar is still as energetic as a rabbit!Because his parents were getting rations along with Oscars sister Elle, Oscar is staying home alone.

“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.

A blue house, red shutters, and a white picket fence with a border collie. Three kids are running around in the front lawn up on a hilltop. That is what the American dream is right? The American dream is truly in the eye of the beholder. One might think that the American dream is an apartment in downtown Los Angeles, but others might want the smell of fresh cut grass in a small suburb. It’s whatever the person who is working for it wants it to be. As we can see in the play, all of the main characters might be striving for an American dream, but none of them are striving for their same American dream.

My experience riding the rails during the Great Depression was quite astonishing. I had a lot of adventures on that train with my best friend Jack Sawyer. We would always sneak out of our house at 9:00 p.m. to go to the train station to catch a train. Me and Jack would always carry a backpack with us to keep all our food, drinks and money in. We would write letters to our parents saying that we are never coming back home and that shouldn’t come looking for us because they will never find where we are.

A buzz left the elevator as it traveled up the levels, moving slowly, almost as if it didn't want to enter the floor she was headed towards. Elizabeth stood in the middle of the box, wiping off the deep red color off of her lips, trying to get rid of the bitter and unpleasant taste that lingered from earlier. The small white handkerchief she held was now getting dirty and looked like a small child took a red crayon to it.

“AAH, I must have overslept!” The Hero rushed towards the window, and he saw that Monster Zero must have been busy for at least a few hours. He gathered all his weapons, and ran towards Monster Zero, somewhere where he could not be seen. “Alright, all monsters have a weak point, so where could it be……..aha! Monster Zero’s neck isn’t covered by any scales, so I must attack there!”