Quivering Creative Writing

As I was running to the ocean I could see my feet sinking in the sizzling sand with each step I took. I could feel the burning sun beating down on me. As I jumped in the water I felt that sense of cold that made me feel refreshed. I could see everything the water was so clear. I could see all the rainbow fish and the little creatures that live in the sea swarming around

We get back into the car. I breathe deeply. Through puffs of smoke, Thomas says, “That guy sounds like a dick.” We merge onto a different highway. The sun is rising. I think only of the Pacific Ocean, of the light on the water, of the sound of waves crashing over my feet. I remember kayaking on the ocean with my father and his friend. I was young, nine or ten. On top of the waves, my father told me that we were going to roll the kayak. He said that while we were under the water, I couldn’t let go of him. He said that I had to make him proud, that I would be in trouble if I embarrassed him in front of his friend. He said that my sister was too afraid to roll the kayak, but I was different, I was brave. Once we got under the water, dad kept flailing around. He tried to push me off of him, but my legs were locked around his chest. He was testing me, but I wouldn’t let go. My lungs burned. I told myself that I just needed to hang on ten more seconds, ten more seconds. I thought I could hear my dad’s voice under the waves. Someone was under the waves with us. Arms pulled me away from dad, but I fought them. The arms were too strong, they pulled me into the air and held me above the waves. I thought that dad would be furious that I had let go, but once he rolled the kayak back up, dad looked afraid. His friend asked him what had happened. Dad said he wasn’t strong enough to roll us back up, that he couldn’t breathe, that he

My mind was going one thousand miles per hour, those words haunting my head. Hot tears flowed down my face as the words sunk in. I slumped in my seat feeling exhausted and too cold for this warm house. My father’s arms reached for me, trying to comfort me. He wouldn’t understand the mental loss that was turning into physical pain. My chest heaved for air, trying to get this drowning feeling out of these thoughts that envelope me bringing a soft cloak of anxiety. “Not again, please.”

When i eventually open my eyes i can finally see my surroundings and the first thing i notice is the clear blue water crashing with the golden beach , the clean sky and the smell of fresh air . Scanning the area around me , i realise that Alice and i aren't the only survivors , there's : Arthur , Damien and Claudet . There all unconscious so Alice makes it her duty to try and wake them . During these few minutes i decide to process our situation , where we are , what the hell happened and what we're going to do now . Looking behind me i’m hit with a rich , lush forest looking to be full of life and heaven like . Peacefully glaring at the woodland i feel like my problems float away and that i'm as free as a feather able to float into the clouds and never return, leaving behind the inferno of a past that i have and creating a new life for myself .

I lolled around still thinking about the decision I had made. The vicissitudes were just piling up, on after another. The only things I heard were buildings crumble, guns being fired, and bombs dropping. I missed the sound of my car starting, I missed the sound of the music playing, but most of all, I missed the sound of my children laughing and playing. The kind of chastisement I was living through was just unbearable and I was ready to leave. No one was stabbing me, no one was shooting me, just thinking about what I have lost is the most painful thing. I heard gunshots getting closer. I needed to leave.

It took my breath away. We were on a cliff edge made of sharp, black lava rock. The hotel lobby looked out onto the ocean. I cherished this moment. The waves were calming and water looked as if it was dancing beneath the sunlight. It was a rich, blue in some spots and in others a bright, aquamarine, light green. Streaks of purple and turquoise speckled on the surface on the water. I hadn’t seen anything like it before. The shimmering, creamy, white sand gleamed in the sun’s heat. As the blue waves crashed against the black lava rock, the water sprang into the air shooting a light mist in the sky. The Grand Bliss truly is a beautiful destination. Waiting for our hotel room to be ready my family and I walked down to the beach to a little seating place called Mandy’s. I loved the feeling of the warm sand squishing under my feet it made my calf muscles clench to keep myself balanced. I stopped walking just before the tide touched my toes. I craved the water touching my skin so, at that exact moment so I tore off my tank top that I was wearing on top of my bathing suit and just stood there taking it all in, the sun on my bare tanned shoulders, the warm, comfortable sand beneath my feet, and the insane need to jump into the salty

You awake with a breeze twirling with the fragments of hair left on your scalp; a dance known only to friends of the oncoming light. You open your eyes only to see the endless ocean in the sky. You do not see your family, nor your friends. You demand your legs and arms to function, they do not. You beg them to work the one time you need them to, and in defiance to the groan of your bones, you stand. You begin to wonder if this is a dream, a nightmare. It’s not real. I will see them when I wake up. They are fine. It’s not real. The earth rises and in its presence is the rubble of your home, your brother’s home, and your neighbor’s home, scattered and utterly destroyed. With a horrible realization, you start screaming for the arms of your children and wife to wrap around you once again. You can’t hear yourself scream. You can’t hear anything except the deafening silence. You drop to our knees while your eyes are drowned in a river of sorrow. Then, you feel the small hands of your children grasp yours with surprising fierceness. Though your wife is nowhere to be seen in the mist of dust, you have never been so relieved to bask in the mist of ruins and death.

By Saturday afternoon, the eighty-seven residents of the rural southern town of Wrongberight have suffered through four days of intense intermittent rainstorms. And to add to their misery another storm approaches the town from the northeast. Now, Clemmy Sue Jarvis since birth has lived here and has a simple philosophy concerning weather. As long as the almighty man upstairs allows her to draw a breath, she will enjoy life, regardless of the weather. At four o’clock, she lifts her petite frame into her rusty Ford pickup, and gradually eases out of her driveway. The soaring Pines that surround her home sway to the rhythm of the gusting wind as she turns south onto Flat Bottom Road and follows it along the edge the Dismal Swamp towards the isolated

“Wake up,” that’s what I heard after passing out from all the blows to the face. My vision is blurred I’m trying to stay awake but I lost consciousness; all of a sudden I felt a splash of coldness on my face, and I woke up gasping for air. The man with the deep ominous voice said, “Wakey wakey little man” I replied, “where the h*ll is Mako!” when I was fully aware of where I was, that’s when I started to panic.

I didn't understand I didn't know what was happening. I'm dead. How is this possible. I'm just a spirit or something. The cops and ambulance came and took our bodies. From that point on i’ve roamed the place looking for my dead parents hoping i'll find them one

I layed my body on the soft green grass with a light sigh, as I was lying on the grass I looked up to the glistening stars in the sky with tears forming in my eyes. I was thinking about my parents and the things we used to do before they were murdered by a group who call themselves Silence. They are a group known by anyone and anything, and what they do to people is just unbearable.

The morning wind is as cold as ice, slicing passed my skin while I’m standing against it. It always like today of every year: cloudy, cold and sad. Like the sky is crying with me. I blend down to a tall, sleek, marble stone with the name “Amelia Bennett” written on it. That’s my mother’s name. She died when I was 7 year-old, it’s odd that I have the memories of her very clearly in my brain. Most children probably won’t. But I do, and I when I do, I missed her. I don’t even know what happened on that tragic day. I was blacked out and the next thing I remember is that she’s now laying deep underneath my feet. No one knows what happen, or no one wants to talk about it, not even my aunt. She’s the one that take me in after the accident. Why? Because

They swarmed around me. The tears felt like fire. I heard worried, faint murmurs. “she's not going to make it”, and they're reassuring my crying, helpless parents, “she's going to be alright”. Even though I was so young, I thought that this was it. The fear. The pain. The sorrow. The memories still haunt me to this day.

As I watched my house crumbled into a million pieces, my legs started to quiver to the point where I could no longer stand on my own two feet. Everything… everything I’d ever loved was inside: my diary, my family photos, my childhood memories. I couldn’t take the pain any more so I began to thrash around the frozen, forlorn floor like a fish on a hook. As my pupils rolled back, flashbacks rolled in. The picture of a child lying in bed while her parents read her a bedtime story replayed in my mind. Images of a primary school girl showing her parents the pictures she drew of them, as a family, wouldn’t fade away. All those memories…now gone. Forever.

For a while, I floated somewhere in the dark, vast crevasse that separates life and death, I thought for sure that I was dead, damned to roast in the eternal fires of Purgatory forever and ever, but as the hours passed, I realized that I was alive, just barely from the feeling of it. And, although every inch of my body hurts from the strapping he gave me, I know that when I’m able to get up and walk, I’m going to Nanny Rues and find out what happened to Jubal. My father will just have to keep beating me until either he kills me or I make it to her house and find out what I need to know.