Lorelie Creative Writing

As my fifteen-year-old roommate falls to pieces, panic rises in my chest like a leaping flame. She lets out muffled screams and chilling sobs as she buries her face against the pillow. I kneel beside her and whisper reassurances. “You’ll be okay.” “No one will hurt you.” I pray she hears me but I know she doesn’t. She is trapped somewhere else - somewhere she revisits every day, like a bad song stuck in her head for life.

I woke up, it was Monday the first day of school at Cupertino Middle School. I got up and took in the eye shattering light from the Sun's burning rays, and got ready for middle school being careful to make every little detail perfect like my hair, shirt, and of course school supplies.

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

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.

Melinda Sordino is an introverted, forlorn freshman in Merryweather High School who just wants to get through the year. It’s as if everyone in the school hates her ever since she called the cops on an end of summer party. Now, she just wants to keep her head down, but two people won’t let her. One, her only friend Heather who believes her sole purpose on earth is to become desired by everyone at the school. Two, the monster that haunts her dreams that she personally name ‘IT’ for even its name makes Melinda wish she could evanesce. When ‘IT’ starts to antagonize her, grades drop, she skips whole days of school, and she secludes herself even further from people. Her parents and the school counselor finally take notice and interrogate her

I never knew the Smokies were so close to my grandparent’s retirement village. Every summer all the cousins jammed into Grandpa’s Ford for our jaunt up the mountains. But back then the hills had no name. They were recognized only by the pop of our ears and the pink silk trees bowing down to the highway. Since those days I have grown partial to any patch of grass with “National Park” tacked to its title. Today the mimosas still tossed their petals to traffic, and the truck remembered its ever-present perfume of damp golden retriever. But today we were going to The Great Smoky Mountains National Park. “Cade’s Cove, next left,” the road sign read, and two bikes bumped along on the car hitch.

Jump!!! My dog jumps on my bed looking at me. I could tell he was going to bark closing my ears from the loud screechy bark. And then he jumps off my bed only to play with his rope. I sit up staring at my phone that was bright I look at my dog waiting for me to get up.

Staring up at the towering, glacier-covered mountain range, I felt impossibly small. My overflowing backpack dug into my shoulders and I bounced on my toes, eager to start hiking before the sun rose too far in the summer sky. Supplied with nothing but what we carried on our backs and in our minds, my family and I were about to backpack into the Alaskan wilderness for a week.

Helga woke up and began looking for a reason to miss school. Finding no reasonable excuse to call absent for the sixth time in three weeks, she grunted and dragged her feet out of bed. Her tan, slender leg waved around the floor to search for the fur-lined pink Crocs she had forced dad to buy her on a recent airport visit. When the pair of expensive fur and foam was finally found, she sleepily slid them on her feet and wobbled to the bathroom.

My family moved from Garden Grove to La Habra at the end of first grade in order to be closer to our water store. It took me a while to adjust to my new school and every day I ended up talking to a new group of peers.

“Look alive kid!” “Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted?” Dad was right. I did want this. Big house. Big School. New, nice car. Yeah but something just didn’t feel right.

I hope all is well on your end! I wanted to touch base with you to see if you were still looking to enroll at William Peace University in the Fall. We still have you in defer status, but our Financial Aid Office noticed that you have not completed the FAFSA. If you are planning to complete the FAFSA soon, I can certainly notify our Financial Aid team.

It was the day that changed everything. The day that someone had died. Isaiah Thompson a 17-year-old boy shot dead in an alleyway. Nobody knows why he died or why he was shot dead in front of his best friend, Kirsha Campbell. Kirsha is a 16-year-old girl who saw her friend die. Being the best friend of his from birth, they have known each other since forever. They do everything together. Both have two younger siblings and live right next to each other and live in a nice neighborhood, as we thought they did. That night in that alley, shot dead not to be seen ever again. It was right after basketball practice, the day before finals. Heading to Kirsha’s place for a study session they took a shortcut which leads to a

That day at school, she saw some kids picking on a little boy with really fluffy hair on the playground. She gets upset seeing someone being hurt so she storms over there and stands infront of the crying boy and yells for the bullies to stop it. They see her arms and laughing asking her if she scribbled on herself because she thought it would make her look cool. She gets more than upset now, she's angry, really angry. Not because they made fun of her (even though it did hurt) It was because they were still trying to hurt someone. Her eyes arent blue anymore, They're a deep Purple. The kids that were just bullying the boy dont know whats going on. It's like a flash and Kathryn can see again, but shes horrified at what she's seen. The bullies were all on the ground, one was bleeding, another screaming for help because of his leg. She turned around and saw the fluffy haired boy looked horrified and before she could say anything to him, he got up and ran away in fear of being hurt. Kathryn ran home that day before school even ended. When she got home she cried to her father saying she was a monster and that she hurt

The backstage door opens and we all walk onto the stage. Mr. H is up at the front of the stage telling us all to be quiet. As I am walking in, I notice how huge the Belchertown auditorium is. The rows and rows of seats must mean that a lot of students attend this school.