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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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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Even on sunny days, the house seemed to sag like a sad, lonely man with drooped shoulders. Just a few flecks of yellow paint were left on it-- reminders of a happier time, when children used to play in its yard. It all started on October 30, in a big house in a small town called Fairview. It was a late Friday night when the Montgomery family saw Fairview’s welcome sign. Their luggages bounced up and down as they drove on the rocky roads of Fairview. It was exactly eight o’clock when they drove
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On June 9, Lucinda was on vacation with her friends, Mary and Elsa. Mary and Elsa are Lucinda friendliest. And Lucinda wants to go to the park, Mary and Elsa are accompanied Lucinda. But Mary and Elsa are not very like Lucinda, because Lucinda is not very nice, and she likes to discriminate and bully other people, and overbearing, so Lucinda is a very very bad student in the school, and teachers also don’t like Lucinda. No student wants to play with Lucinda, but Mary and Elsa are good students,
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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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“Leah!Are you coming with me or not ?The dogs are anxious!” Billy yelled. That’s my older brother,BIlly. He’s always rushing me to do something. “One second Billy,I’m looking for my shoes!” I continued, “I’m almost ready!” “I’m practically out of the door!” “I’m coming,I’m coming.” I ran down stairs and met Billy by the door. “ Ann,lets go girl!” I called to my dog. Anne is the cutest little hound dog you’ve ever seen. She has brown spots and the rest of her is white. Her paws are
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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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Layer by layer, she transformed herself. She watched her skin turn from a sallow, bony, splotchy mess into a luminescent glow. She lined her eyes with a dark charcoal pencil. Her lips became a deep crimson. She slid the dress over her bony hips, pulled the straps over her shoulders, and tugged up the zipper. She surveyed herself in the mirror. That dark part of herself struggled to find something to hate about it. There could’ve been a million things. She was too skinny, she was too pale. Her breasts
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With a slight amount of impatient apprehension, I intently stared at the computer screen. Silently waiting to see what would transpire next. Speculating whether I should throw myself back into his sultry temptation and surrender to his enticement or reluctantly slip away like a thief in the night. The message light came on, yet I waited a few minutes before ultimately retrieving it. "Commit to memory every single day, about how powerful it feels as I propel my cock deep and relentlessly inside you
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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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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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This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. It wasn’t supposed to feel like my heart was being ripped out from my chest. These were the days that were supposed to be filled with joy. Days with long mornings and short nights, with the sun streaking in through the window. All of these thoughts jumbled around my head, but I pushed them aside and took another swig of stale coffee before heading out for another rough day. Walking into the room, the door creaking, my eyes were drawn to her. She looked so
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Still. All was still. Not a sound echoed in the valley. Not a whisper flooded the canyon. Quiet. All was quiet. Wandering through the smooth path, I noticed that everything was peaceful in my natural surroundings. All the animals at this point of my walk had assimilated themselves into their surroundings on the first sight of my presence. I kept trekking further into what had not yet been discovered, into the unknown. When I come out here to get away from the everyday calamities, a part of me is
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He drove on until he came to a stop in front of the Alabama state line. Shiftlet looked around in the car, he found a crumpled piece of paper on the floorboard behind the passenger seat. He opened it, instantly he knew it was from Lucynell. It would be impossible for anyone other than Shiftlet to make out. He opened it and the crumpled piece of paper had the word “Bird” obscenely written on it. He held it in the only hand he had left, and crumpled it as small as he could….and threw it out the window
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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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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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It was a cold day in December of 2014. I hadn't built up enough courage to do the raid yet in destiny. All of my friends were doing, it but at the time I just hadn't played the game enough to go get a raid group that would accept a lower light level 13 year old kid , but today was finally the day I attempted the vault of glass I had heard all about it the rewards, the time it takes, the dedication. The raid was no easy task and the day it was announced thousands of people were stumped and couldn't
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Before starting this creative writing class I have had very little experience with poetry. Now I have learned many terms, skills and techniques during this quarter which has helped me grow as a writer. I have poems I have now written and am proud of; I have also learned so much though the whole process of sharing in class and reading others works. As a writer I still struggle very much in some departments and I am hoping to continue writing. Before starting this creative writing poetry class; I hadn’t
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