CREATIVE WRITING As you entered the dark and mysterious room of Cue 8 pool and Billiards, you wonder how you could have ended up in a place like this. The atmosphere was clustered and dark leaving no opportunities for light to travel inside the building. Outside, the walls came alive with colourful creative graffiti that overlapped each other but blended smoothly within the big picture. The entrance was small but like a cave and as you walked in you could feel the black paint on the walls swarming
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Connections Between Life Experiences/Beliefs and Fiction Writing Other Publications. Enhance this section with visual and/or media resources that connect (e.g. pictures, art, interview video clip, etc. just try and be creative). For example, show a clip from an interview with the author, or a video clip from a film about the author. Keep it short and explain/introduce the clip. 2. Description/Discussion: Talk about the six elements of creative writing. For plot state the key terms and discuss your novel
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Creative writing- Childhood memory The usual routine. I bowl in to see the scornful look of the Old Witch. She glares at me from behind her spectacles. Never greeted with a warm welcome, reproached for being a female and I certainly don’t fit her stereotype of what a woman should be. Aggressive with a passion for anything that does not conform to the typical 1950’s housewife, which is against most women’s views. But no one would suspect an old lady to be so malicious inside with such a sweet loving
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Michael Marchelletta Mrs. Gosling 20th Century Literature 25 November 2013 I awoke on a brisk Saturday morning in November. I got out of bed and made my way to the kitchen, where hot cider and a chocolate chip scone were waiting. I read the paper while indulging on my early morning treats and then proceeded to do my homework once I was finished. This is my usual schedule on the weekends, but there was something rather unusual about today: My parents were nowhere to be found. I roamed around
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Maiers1 Matt Maiers Mrs. Ramer Creative Writing 30 March 2015 Metamorphosis It sent shivers down my spine. Then, I looked outside. The moon stared back at me. It seemed to be pulling me toward the brightness of its light in the night sky. I got out of my bed and trudged toward the window. Now, I seemed to be staring at a face in the sky. Then, I felt my skin start to burn. I held my head and fell toward the mirror. I took my hands away from my head and clutched the dresser tightly. My
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Creative The rhythmic sound of the wheels of the train seemed to be synchronised with the tapping of my foot. The consistency in the sound lulled me into the recesses of my mind allowing me to think of the occurrences of the past couple of weeks, but before I could even think, I was lurched out of my subconscious state of mind by the sudden sound of a horn, and the cool air that hit my face when the doors proceeded to open. I watched the many people that clambered in to the train and the many others
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I am outside the door panting like a dog trying to comprehend where my family has brought me. They said that my house needs to be painted and I need to stay here for a while so I don’t get in the way of the tradesmen. As I walk inside, the scent of anti-bacteria and cleaning chemicals brings back memories of visiting my wife Betty at hospital every single day, while she was living her last moments. Unfamiliar faces in a place where the location is unknown, makes me to feel uncomfortable with
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and slammed the door behind him, times when she and his eldest daughter and had argued, back and forth, until their voices were hoarse and eyes were rimmed with red. They argued because they were so similar, he realised, passionate and dramatic and creative and loud.He was different, and so was his son. When the two women, one older and one just struggling out of girlhood, argued, they would escape to the garden, where the yells of frustration would be muted somewhat and there was green for the eyes
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A dangerous night at Phillie’s By: It was a late freezing November night in New York City as I strolled down the quiet windy street of Orlando, having just left from a long day at work. The alley whistled as the invisible force rushed through ruffling bags and seemingly making the night colder. I pulled my coat tighter around myself and pinned my arms to my chest to keep it from flying open as a strong gust of wind threatened to knock me over. Far off dogs barked mixing in with the city sounds
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As i opened my eyes in the morning i remember catching a glimpse of the vivid being thrown and the sound of foot steps thundering down the hall way. This is when I knew i had been attacked by Kaiden. Even though it gave me a fright I was starting to get used to it, it was to be expected when he was in the house. As I got out of bed to go see the damage I remember seeing this cheeky little face appear around the corner and a evil like chuckle faint in the back ground. This evil little chuckle was
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I glanced at the toy that my parents brought for me, a small symbol of their love for me. My parents are always busy, neglecting me, as they travel around the world leaving me behind in this huge empty house. I stroked the soft fur of the toy my parents bought me, the only companion I have, alone in this isolated house. I vividly remember at that time when we had a maths test and I had the second highest in my class. Excitedly, I showed my mum my result and I thought she would be elated at my
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Two weeks had lapsed and it was back. It laid just under the rug agnate to the manner in which it laid under my skin. Each fluid glissade it executed, concealed by the tightly woven fabric, was plagiarized upon my trembling skin. The scratches chiseled at the ancient, wooden floors below felt synchronous to the ripping sentenced upon my flesh. I could hear the frigid pipes creaking below as it dug deeper into the softened mahogany and my veins encumbered the struggle not to rupture. The doors slammed
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Jim took off into the distance with a trail of dust whooshing into the air, the 5-mile sunset reflecting off his back. The old windy road narrowed down towards the creek as the sulfur-crested cockatoo was chirping away to him. Jim lived on a property 55km west of 5-mile creek. His family had lived there for generations and generations dating way back to the 1850’s. Jim was now on his own, a widower who was about to lose more than he already had. Jim woke up this morning, got out of bed
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I am so scared but I know that I can’t be around CyFi when everything settles down, they will know who I am and I can’t risk that so I just ran and ran. I didn’t look back until I was deep enough in the woods were when I looked back I couldn’t see the light of the sun. Luckily there was no one following me. I don’t know what time it is or even what day it is, but all I know is that I can’t stay in one place for long. I decided that it was a good idea for me to sleep in the woods tonight being that
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“Come on, you used to love this when we were kids!” a man complained to another, hefting his RPK-74 onto his shoulder, while his partner groggily crawled out of his sleeping bag with a deep scowl on his face. “Being out in the woods, poking and pointing sticks like they were guns...” “I’m sorry, Vadim,” the second man replied. “But if I remember correctly, the woods outside your mother’s house did not have bloodsuckers behind every other tree.” Vadim chuckled to himself, “And she would cook fresh
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It was a bitter night, sleep being kept to a bare minimum. At times I came close to shutting my eyes only to be awoken by the thunderous roar and shakes of barrages from the enemies’ guns. As darkness began to fall my platoon rest period was underway, as we entered our trenches through small dwarf sized doors. Several times throughout the sleepless night I could hear the distant thunder of shells pounding into the trenches. At times I would doubt the safety of my fellow soldiers with death seeming
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Out beyond the line of hills, clothed in forests of gold at this time of year, lies the market town of Stileham. It sits by the crossroads of the old drove road that runs from the hill country to the sea and the great north road, a trade route used for generations of traders heading from London to the provinces. This countryside is bountiful. Rolling pastures with soaring Elms in their hedges, the vase shape upswept and holding up the sky. Nearer the hills the hedges run out of steam and the countryside
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“Woof, woof.” Said Fletcher, thumping his strong tail against the wooden door. I turned around slowly in bed, with my eyes still closed. “Woof, woof, woof.” I heard again. I turn around in my bed and my feet stick out from the cosy duvet into the chillness of the room. My eyes are still closed, though my mind isn’t. It was a cold night of November. Dense fog gathered in the centre of the terrain. Over a ridge to the north, surrounded by rolling hills on each side, a desolate church stood isolated
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Encephalitis, or inflammation of the brain tissue, is rare, affecting about one in 200,000 people each year in the U.S. Most cases are caused by viral infections or even by bacteria. The disease is very serious—severe cases can cause death. I’ve learned this from experience. It was the day of October 23, 2014. My Aunt named Sandra, also known as my legal guardian since I was four, had been dealing with being sick for five months now and Auntie Sandy had no idea what she had or what it was from.
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The cool wind pressed against my lightly browned skin, and my legs pumped faster than I could think about where to go. The mix of sweat and summery air surrounded me, and the great jungle of green consumed me. More breath escaped than I was able to draw in, and the moist on my tongue dissolved leaving my mouth as dry as the South Carolina heat. The sun studied me as I dodged trees and trounced the crunching leaves underneath me. I leaned over to catch my breath, and sweat slowly trickled down the
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with Goldberg’s ideas. I mean writing should be free and simple; it shouldn’t be about big fancy words or poetic approaches. But rather about being creative and entertaining and getting the point across without sounding like an idiot that’s my view on it. I like her rules on it and I just realized that I actually did exactly as she said in my 10 minutes writing. Also she is completely right about having to practice every day as that’s the only way to get good at writing. I would really love to use
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I don't know how long that ray of sunlight had been peeking through the open window before it found its way onto my face. Nor do I know how long it took me to become aware of it. I fought to ignore that errant sunbeam, to get back to my dream, but the moment had passed. I rub my knuckles into my eyes to drive away the sleep and try to remember what I had planned for today, the reaping. I have to wash and get dressed up in my best clothes for the reaping, why? Because the Capitol wants me to. The
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" Sorry but you and Klaus are on my territory and he broke the law so as the alphas father I have the right to bring him in ." I thought for a moment did I really run that far. I'm not even close to the kingdom grounds and I'm surrounded by werewolves and the only way to keep Klaus is to go through them all. " So what well it be little girl Are we going to have to go through you or are you going to just hand him over like a nice little girl. " I step towards the man and looked him dead in the
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The horrid silence stretched on and on, ripping him apart. Why wasn't Amaimon saying anything!? Shouldn't it be now when he assured things weren't ruined. Assured him that he loved him and wanted to stay. He'd promised he'd help make this a blessing, he'd said he'd do anything. The anger he'd always felt about himself welled back up now, having be subdue u gentle touches and promises of a better life together. A better life when the demon king who told him they might be able to be mates, that they
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You return home to explain to Emmie to explain what you found. She is, of course, shocked and hurt that the leader of this group is Cameron, as by now she'd assumed he as dead and he'd always been a very moral man. With no more leads to go on, however, you leave it up to Emmie to investigate, and you go back to your job (mainly dealing with dark magic and exorcisms), as well as helping Peter. You now have options on which of the quests you want to do. You can do any of the standalone quests in any
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“It’s amazing how brave you are. You always believed in yourself and never thought of thinking you weren’t worth it,” she said. “One day good will come to you and when it does you will be so glad that you decided to get yourself through the rough times.”, she spoke. “Although you might have nothing right now other than friends, in the future you will find someone who loves you, just like how I found you at this abandoned boardwalk.”, Adaline said. My eyes widened, “I never really thought about it
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“That's always seemed so ridiculous to me, that people want to be around someone because they're pretty. It's like picking your breakfeast cereals based on color instead of taste.” ― John Green, Paper Towns “We live and breathe words. It was books that kept me from taking my own life after I thought I could never love anyone, never be loved again. It was books that made me feel that perhaps I was not completely alone. They could be honest with me, and I with them.” ― Cassandra Clare, Clockwork
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Belonging - Short Narrative Part 1: Noah and his Father On a quiet morning, majestic to say the least, the sun rose softly, yet unlike all other mornings, on this day, it embraced a pristine crispness, perfectly complementing the balmy accents of this summers dawn. Pastel orange danced with lilac in the sky, and as light gradually highlighted the earth bound greens, the world seemed to hug together, all elements as one, as family, each entwined with the next, as though made for the existence
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My mind was fuzzy. I heard many voices but none of them I could decipher. All dialogue was muddled up, making me so feel so confused. A stinging pain lingered in my right shoulder and I went to go touch it but to my disappointment- I couldn't. Quickly, my eyes shot open and I realised I was paralyzed. I desperately tried to move my feet but no attempt became successful. I was stuck in a lying down position. I scanned the area around me. It smelt disgusting in here. All was dark, except a little
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DS called Gram on his way to JFK just to ease her mind that there weren't any other hitches in his travel plans this time. At least he hoped. "And, by the way, Gram. I'm bringing a guest." Well, that's all Grammy Flo needed to set her head spinnin'. "A guest? Why, who Dickie?" "It's a surprise. You'll just have to wait and see." Of course, it could only be that cute Mindy Montgomery. Grammy heard the wedding bells loud and clear. The line for security was impossibly long and DS
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