My Creative Writing : The Story Of Writing

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.

As the winds wisp through the willowy woods on one warm November nighttime, our worrisome subject eyes a wooden orifice far into the night. The crunch of leaves and pinestraw accompany his stroll through the midnight Mississippi forest. Spanish moss waves through the wind as Deacon, or as he is affectionately known by his friends as Deac, moves ever so closer to this new object. It is the source of his visit to this mundane backwood land that appears otherworldly to Deac. A cabin in the woods is where Deacon is making his trek to, to visit his girlfriend’s family. “They could’ve told me that I couldn’t drive to the cabin,” Deacon mumbled to himself as he battles the brisk, hard blast of the breeze in the barren woodland. Deacon reaches the door of the

“It most certainly is not,” retorted Phillie. “Freddie is that terrible man from those awful movies made years ago. The man who would attack children in their sleep.”

My whole body shakes with the effort to contain my sobs, the hand holding my phone stings with the force of my grip. Determined figures type at it's screen, their progress slowed by the tremors running havoc and my terrified body. The irritation is present, but fleeting, chased out by the desperation currently clawing it's way up my chest.

"Jared and I have been discussing your behavior the past several weeks and I think we've finally come to the conclusion that it's not working when we punish you."

“Because I was just so dang excited, that’s why,” said Eli, stepping closer to her, not realizing that she wanted to smack him. “It’s good to see your fire back, Allie Mae. It’s been missing of late.”

A few minutes later Tucker reappeared in the room carrying a tray filled with all of the things Lyanna had asked him to prepare. He set it down upon the coffee table that ran between the two sofas and then he asked if he could get anybody anything else. Alex had told him, “No thank you.” and Lyanna then said, “That will be all, my dear.”

It had taken Denise over two hours to complete her investigation. After both Fiona and Denise left, she felt nervous being in the house alone, especially after hearing what Denise had to say. She walked through each room taking the same path they had walked earlier silently wishing Ray was already home.

I gathered together all of the paintings, and finally slipped on my dress, and a pair of white heels, i added a gold thick necklace. Then I heard a knock at the door. King went running and barking. I answered the door and there he was in a tux, he looked so so ? Handsome, I had wanted to touch since the minute I touched him to seen him the man of my dreams a local flower boy, seemed silly but hey he was cute.

“I don’t want her Syd, I want you.” Syd blushed. “I want you to Steven.”

“Meet me at the apartment from this morning at five am tomorrow.” I released my hold. As I made my way through the living room I heard the news anchor.

Cole stuffed his hands further into his pockets when a gust of snow blew on the doorstep. Neither of them wanted to get into any heavy conversations on the way back to her home. He was almost certain Jordyn was going to bid him goodnight after he made sure she arrived home safely.

David quickly put the diaper bag on the ground and took the carrier from Katie. “Let’s go,” Katie said, grabbing the diaper bag. “I’m starving!”

“YOUAREGOINGTOHAVETOBEQUIET,” I cut him short, reiterating the last part of my sentence in a desperate attempt to get it across before he could interrupt again. I scowl, and as I try to stand up to meet the boy, something tugs me back down. He’s stepping on my sweatshirt. “Can you please move your foot?” Silence. No response. “Can you please,” I growl through gritted teeth, “move your foot.”