Park Creative Writing

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.

Today has been a long day, but I felt the need to come back and write something down in this journal before retiring for the night. I thought this place was creepy during the daytime, but that is worth little when compared to how eerie the nights are. Everything outside is pitch black, with no moon to break through the dark void.

I layed back, kicked my feet up, and looked up at the sun trying to break through the leaves of the enormous Oak trees. There is one place I always end up when I want to escape from the rest of the world: Pokagon State Park.

The sun shines through the small basement window of the house. It’s early morning beams piercing across the face of a young girl as she sleeps. It takes awhile for the brightness to penetrate her green eyes but when it does she stretches lazily under the covers closing those eyes for yet one more moment of dreams. She suddenly bolts upright as she remembers what today is.

If you look in the Sayre park art room, you might see someone standing in there painting or drawing or maybe even sculpting with clay. She is very elegant and friendly. But who is she?

The weather was pleasant, with cloudless blue skies and the air heavy with birdsong along their route. Accompanying those who were being sent to assess the damage at the Salsolan Outpost had been a choice — the same way drinking when thirsty was a choice — and bringing her slave had been just another facet.

The day was sunny and clear. We walked through the cool Chicago wind, bracing ourselves against it. Throughout the day we explored the city, visiting the Sears Tower, Navy Pier, and the Field Museum. I even got you to step out onto the Skydeck, despite your fear of heights. I dozed off on your shoulder on the train ride back home, dreaming about how great you had made my sixteenth birthday.

Carver prowled up and down the halls of Aldersley Park, the mansion he had inherited when his parents were tragically killed in a plane crash two years before. He felt restless, twenty three years old and wealthy beyond his wildest dreams, and yet he felt restless. His skin crawled with desire for release, any kind of release from his frustration.

It was mid november in the ozarks. A small mountain range located in the heart of the midwest. The trees are beautiful and the day is quite. One of the dead lies about 20 feet in front of me. I don't want to shoot him but he sees me. He starts to walk towards me. Although it doesn't look much like a walk. Its lifeless with no objective it justs walks, endlessly seeking nothing but what drives it to be alive. Human flesh, it's been 3 years now since the outbreak. Nobody knows how it started or where it came from. However it came hard and fast the first year was a nightmare, everyone i knew slowly died off. I've been on my own now for about 6 months. Using the wilderness and the rockiness of the ozarks to help keep me alive. The walker is slowly

No sounds come from inside the home. Just the twinkling of the stars overhead, and my breaking into someone’s home. Perfect. Nothing unusual here. It’s eight p.m. on a Friday night, and the entire house is pitch black. Hopefully, that means the bastard isn’t home. Nobody goes to bed at eight, right? He has to be out, probably cracking up over the girl dumb enough to lose her family’s heirloom. I heave the window the rest of the way up cringing at its squeal. I go completely still, gulping down breaths to stay quiet. My heart nearly

The faint evening shadows cast by the glow of the midnight moon slowly drift across the dying lawn that is the backyard. In the quiet of night, the forest is lively with the chirps of the bugs and the whirling of the wind as it wraps around and through the trees. Airplanes dot the time as they roar overhead. I sit alone on the bottom step of the old deck. Legs crossed and hands folded I sit and listen.

On a hot summer day in small town called Town Square. It was a small town with only 200 people living in it. In a house on 56th street lived a 16 year old boy. His name of Jimbo and who lived his 10 year old brother and His Mom and Dad. The lived in that small house of 13 years. It was June 14, 2035. It was first year collage for Jimbo, he was very scared of bullies and gruesome people. The problem was jimbo had a major anger issue. At his first day of school he went to his first day of class and another college student tripped Jimbo. Jimbo fell to the ground and had a bloody nose. While he was getting up he got sacked. The other college students name was Randy.

One sunny spring day, Rachel arrived home from a long day of school. As she set down her backpack, she casually walked to the kitchen to begin preparing a snack. When she was opening the cabinet door she saw an odd looking light coming from the kitchen window. She also heard a small bang and the neighbor’s dogs begin to bark. She thought to herself what the light and noise could have been. It was too bright to be headlights from the neighbor's car or really anything else. Rachel slowly approached the door to her backyard, slightly afraid of when she will find outside.

A chilled breeze caused my hair to stand up on end, so I peek over my shoulder to see the window in my bedroom door open. The blue, polka-dotted whipped around violently but I couldn 't hear the sounds of a strong wind. Huh, could have sworn I 'd closed that. . . I spring to my feet and shiver as I step across the cold floor toward my room. On my tip-toes, I pull the screen down to shut it and take a minute to stare out the window. The moon cast a dim light over the small town, illuminating only the fronts of houses and the tip of trees, abandoning all else to darkness. A light fog danced in the distance and I smiled thinking how perfect it looked on Halloween 's night. I looked down from the top floor one last time then tugged the curtains shut.

It was three o’clock in the morning. Outside the window, the sky was still dark. There were barely any stars in the sky, and no cloud cluttered. The sky was painfully dark and motionless. Except for the faint light from the moon, everything seems lifeless. In a dark room, there was a girl sitting up on the bed, leaning on the wall beside her. She was looking out the window. Through the window, the girl can see the sky and the top of some buildings, however, nothing special or attractive. But, the girl has been staring at it for almost an hour now, silently and peacefully.