Dd-Ponen3 Creative Writing

The blazing hot spotlights flick on. The theatre is silent, allowing me to hear the pounding of my heart. Heat radiating off of the light panels warms my face. I grin from ear to ear and whisper to myself, “I will remember this.” It was the friday night show of the orchesis concert, Mrs. Good had sat us down to tell us a story about a past student. Her student, Margaret, loved performing and lived for the rush of adrenaline when she stepped foot on stage. During her senior show, she whispered to herself, “I will remember this.” Fast forward three years, Margaret was walking through the quad of her college campus, the sun peered out behind the clouds and the angle the the sun hit her face brought back a rush of emotions and memories. We were all told this because she wanted us to never forget the feeling we got when we performed. “If you are rushing through the dance moves or caught up in the moment, pause and breathe, remember why you are on the stage in the first

A/N: I was bored one day, when these little idea's popped into my head. I don't own Sherlock, any of the characters, or BBC, etc. Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat, are the real creators of the show. All this work is for entertainment purposes only, not for profit or gain. Enjoy!

The two didn’t have time to reply before I was running. I hadn’t expected myself to do it this way, but the 1 AM bells began tolling just as I got to the trees. Cresswell plunged in after me and disappeared further in. Comstock crawled in as I held the leaves back for him, and we both looked out into the street we’d just come from.

I was sprawled out on my old bed with a quilt partially wrapped around me. It was cold in the bedroom. I had taken mom’s diary out of my suitcase. Tears rolled down my cheeks, as I laid there flipping through the pages.

Everybody was gone. Evacuated, they called it. The Pearl of Asia, a city once renowned the world over for its vibrant music and art scenes, along with its French-style architecture –now devoid of living souls. The city centre was only a corpse of its former self: the central market was completely unrecognisable; the surrounding houses now just piles of brick and wood. They said that we did not need cities, that we were corrupted by Western values. They would create a new society, free from the old ways of money and greed. The past five years had been quite abominable, so everybody hoped that this new government would finally bring peace.

The curiosities that revolve around this event infatuate me. The night of the occurrence I knew something was off, I was petrified. I lied awake that night trying to remove my mind from the agonizing fear that crippled me, giving myself countless alternative reasons for the sounds that rudely awoke me. This man that did this to me was not a stranger, I spoke to him many times throughout the week and he was consistently kind, maybe it was part of his plan, so I wouldn’t suspect it. He was a regular acquaintance that I consistently interacted with, to me he wouldn’t ever hurt a fly, but that night, seconds before my death, I saw alarmingly unfamiliar resentment from the way he looked at me. I knew the noises weren’t the crickets. I hoped that

This morning I walked into your room because I heard quite a commotion of hangers hitting walls and drawers being slammed. Either you were trying to capture, kill, or scare a spider OR you were having an emotional breakdown. Either way, I was ready for it. I had Love and Logic training and knew exactly what I needed to say and how to say it…bring it on sweetie. I was not ready for you, my beautiful, kind-hearted SIX-YEAR-OLD daughter, to be throwing clothes around your room while yelling, “Mom! I cannot wear the outfit I set out last night because it makes me look fat!” Ummmm, WHAT? I wanted to scream, “You are six years old! Are you out of your ever-loving mind? You are not supposed to see yourself like that! You are six; how could you be so crazy about the way you look already?” Instead, I told you how beautiful, brilliant, and strong you are and that you are being silly. In other words, I disregarded and minimized your feelings entirely.

I wrap my scarf around my neck and reach down to lace up my boots. Careful not to drop my cross body bag as it swings down, I stand up straight and walk out the door. As I lock the front door behind me, I inhale a deep breath. This is my favorite time of year. The air is brisk, yet the sun is warm on my skin. I begin my walk to work since my car officially died yesterday. This is the third time this month, but I don’t really mind. I love walking when the weather is like this. The sounds of leaves crunching beneath my feet sounds like music.

On weekends, groups of Italian boys piled out of Milan-licensed Range Rovers. They unloaded skis, pulled on Dolomite ski pants and down jackets and trudged up to the slopes. There were a few Australians from the local youth hostel skiing in jeans.

You are actually able to drive in these places automatically, without us having to make any changes to your account. You just need to have DC driver's license. Upon checking your account, I can see that you have a Maryland Driver's License. Therefore, if you wish to drive at Washington, D.C., feel free to attach to this email your license at D.C.

Dear Stan, It’s been a rough couple of months so far here in Da Nang. Just an hour ago, the NVA moved up closer to the airfield and shot down a loaded C-130 transport plane. The wreckage was spread out all over the runway, killing around twentie two guys. At first, I didn’t even know the NVA had RPG-7’s. The Soviets must have supplied them well, I wasn’t surprised that they would support any country against us. Anyway, I’ve been unlucky in the recent months like I said before. It was August 2nd, and Cpt. Cole called in a Huey gunship. We needed fire support on hill 137, there were several NVA 50.cal positions that were dugg in. They also had plenty of RPK bipod mounts all over the mountain, we were ducked the whole time to avoid getting nailed

In the Autumn of 2009, I received a job offer abroad, working in a remote island nation, just North of

“Oh, how fascinating it was! How she enjoyed it! How he loved sitting here, watching it all! It was like a play. … She was on the stage” (177).

Introduction: High pitch music that serenades the soul begins the production. A show of some clean homes, a happy family and a Maid smiling by the side could be used to hint on what is to come.

You 're a good girl… The obnoxious music penetrated deep past my ear drum and pumped through me. The stench of sweat and stale foamy beer consumed the air. Blackness engulfed me and all the other one hundred clammy bodies in the room. Their erratic body movements were revealed to the wandering eyes only when the disco ball flashed its blinding lights on them.