Creative Writing: Wild Flowers Of Gloriana

“’But we heard it,’ insisted Daisy, surprising me by opening up again in a flower-like way.” (FCF 23).

And now and then in the afternoon she would burst through the door holding flowers and cookies and smelling fresh like the outdoors. She would stay for a moment or two and chat about with the children about the wonderful weather or her garden. The children would show her the pictures that they had drawn and ask her questions about their mother. Which she could never answer, but she would try.

“Don’t worry friends; I know why you are here. You have come to ask me about the flower in the meadow.That is one special flower, just like all the ones I have up here. It’s a simple explanation, a seed off one of these just simply made its way down there.”

“I forgot. Your mother was in your study the night I invited them for dinner. She came in here to have a talk with you. You were slightly incapacitated, at the time, I believe.”

Footsteps started towards his door from the dark corridor outside it. Slow, steady, purposeful footsteps, edging ever closer to his lonely, dark room. David reached above his head and turned his gas lamp up, so that it lit the room with flickering orange, creating strange shadows that danced on the walls like a five-year olds nightmare.

A stranger in the village is someone that is new to a place or isn’t familiar with something. Approximately two years ago I moved, which meant I had to move schools too. I was 15 years when I moved to McEachern High School but it made me be a more independent person.

Ten years after all of the drama with TJ and the Wallace’s, Cassie gets transferred to an all white Jefferson Davis school. On the first day of school Cassie walks on the bus with all of the white kids, as she was walking to the back of the bus the white kids were staring at her in a weird way that makes her spit on a white kid before she even gets to sit down. She then gets thrown off the bus and has to walk in the mud with a black kid, Scotty Smith that had moved here two days ago. When Cassie figured out that a boy was moving into a house in front of their house she was blushing. As they were walking to the school it was very awkward because Cassie likes Scotty Smith, but she didn’t have the courage to tell him before they had to split apart to go to their different schools.

I’m not going to bore you with facts you probably won’t recollect and I’m not going to act as if I am supercilious to this issue, but I am one for a change. Everything is going to change eventually, the court outside of the Newhalen School needs to change. The court is getting superannuated and precarious, the basketball rim and backboard is getting rusty and worn down by the years of snow, wind, and rain. We need a safe environment for our future generation. This court right now is intact, but imagine it years from now. It would collapse. The rim looks like it’s about to break off every time I go to shoot around there, and people should fear of that happening. If the rim did fall it would induce serious damage to the victim of that happening. The court currently is disintegrating and the nails that are holding the boards together are

“Medics here, who needs help?” he questioned. It’s almost like Sasha never heard me tell him I was fine.

She soon lets the man into her yard and prepares pots for chrysanthemums while the man tells her about one of his regular customers who also gardens. He claims this customer has asked him to bring her some chrysanthemum seeds if he ever finds some on his travels. After that Elisa gives him full instructions for tending them. Then he drives away in his wagon with fifty cents and the chrysanthemum shoots promising to take care of them until he can deliver the chrysanthemums to the other women. Now Elisa trusts him much that she gives him her chrysanthemums flowers to take care for someone

The fresh dew in the air, cold and frosty, sent a chill vibrating throughout my body. The sun peaked out from behind the mountain, yet the tint of bleak darkness remained in the sky. Subsequent to the prolonged drive, we arrived at La Reina High School located at Thousand Oaks, California. We all filed out of the van and Miller, my debate coach, handed me a blue laptop, thin and smooth, with the number six atop. A wave of anxiety broke over me, as we walked in. My mind was clouded and racing with a million thoughts. I had never done this before, and here I was at my first debate tournament. Debate was a very prominent part of my life and I was strongly determined to earn pride and respect from my coach. As we went into the cafeteria and to

“I’ll see you then. Pine Tree.” he purred as he walked off and out of the store. Dipper had been awestruck and amazed at the kindness of the man. For the rest of the day, he couldn’t stop fiddling with the flower tucked oh so gently behind his ear, and every time someone mentioned it being cute or nice, he couldn’t help but

I walk the halls of Cheshire High School with my head down. I don't have a reason to lift it. No matter where I go, no one wants me here. After that text, I don't even want to be here.

There was a sad, almost disappointed tonality in her words as she answered. “Unfortunately, no. If they are defeated in battle, then they are typically recycled and reused to be made into new cogs. Exploding doesn’t exactly leave much possibility to bring the individual back. It’s not cost-effective, and even if they rebuilt them, that doesn’t mean the parts that store their mind and personality would be left unharmed.”

The warmth of a summer day beckons me to run to my favorite play place. I tip toe cautiously down my fragile wooden staircase leading me to the backyard. I purposefully step across the wooden boards that keep me safe the from the imaginary lava surrounding the boards which lead toward a mountain of dark dirt. I run as fast as my short legs can carry me up the mountain and cannonball into the dirt while it crumbles through my petite four year old hands. A sandcastle shovel stands uprightly, dug into the soil. Beside the shovel, lay cars and kitchen teacups. The rich brown soil hoards all sizes of rocks and pebbles, while encouraging weeds and allowing bits of grass to emerge. Hovering grain bins surround the