White Crying
by Taylor D.
It felt like my chest was closing in on itself. Like my body was looking for something that wasn't there. My muscles clenched as if to fill the now empty part of me. My heart didn't feel like it was ripped out of my chest like in one of those cheesy romance novels. No, it beat in a steady unchanging rhthym like a horrible reminder that the pain was not going anywhere. I sat, curled on the floor, my head between my knees and my hands clutching the center of my chest as if to take back the part of my soul that was just ripped from me. It was almost as if the pain was self-inflicted like it was my fault I was experiencing this dreadful emptiness. My head spun with incesant questions. When was the pain going to stop? Was this the worst part of it? How much more could I take?
My room spiralled as my head rolled back and forth on my shoulders. Sobs racked my body. This was what it was like to cry. I couldn't focus on any thing before invisible tentacles in my mind pulled me back into my own head.
My ears were full of silence. It choked me and soon my sobs turned silent also so painful that there was not a sound worthy for it. My mouth gasped in a silent cry for release from my pain. No one answered. This was what it was like to cry. Soon m y silent ears burried me into my white mind. My teeth crashed together when an audible crunch hat even I heard through my noisy silence. My leg flailed uselessly on the floor. It was like they were looking for something too, but it was just out of reach. This was what it was like to cry. I scrubbed my eyes with my knuckles and found relief in the busy black slate said before my shut eyes. It was drastically different from the white silence before. White was empty, nothing. An absence. This was what crying was.
My room spiralled as my head rolled back and forth on my shoulders. Sobs racked my body. This was what it was like to cry. I couldn't focus on any thing before invisible tentacles in my mind pulled me back into my own head.
My ears were full of silence. It choked me and soon my sobs turned silent also so painful that there was not a sound worthy for it. My mouth gasped in a silent cry for release from my pain. No one answered. This was what it was like to cry. Soon m y silent ears burried me into my white mind. My teeth crashed together when an audible crunch hat even I heard through my noisy silence. My leg flailed uselessly on the floor. It was like they were looking for something too, but it was just out of reach. This was what it was like to cry. I scrubbed my eyes with my knuckles and found relief in the busy black slate said before my shut eyes. It was drastically different from the white silence before. White was empty, nothing. An absence. This was what crying was.
Temptation
By Taylor D. and Sophie S.
My house is always surrounded by clouds. Every type of cloud. With the swirling gray masses came something even darker, something horrible. Something that brings a deathly chill, one that sends shivers down your spine. A seemingly invisible force that could bring a grown man to his knees. It sweeps across the meadow and slams into my door. I can't let it in. I fear that if I do I will never see him again. I was the only one left now. I can't let anything stop my plan. Noah couldn't save him, no matter how hard he tried. I was still left with the burden, alone. But how could I save someone from insanity without catching it myself? Should I really take the risk. Let him in... again? I know that I love him. I'm positive of that. But to go through that pain again, my sense of self-preservation in me said no. My heart on the other hand was screaming at me to open the door.
I remember when we were in the meadow. Me laying in his evenly tanned and muscled arms. His hand softly drifted through my hair, creating tingles on my scalp. His liquid cobalt eyes gazing into mine. Oh, those dreadfully wonderful eyes! I smiled softly.
"What?" He asked.
"Nothing, I just want to remember this moment forever." I murmured, snuggling deeper in his arms.
"Forever." He promised.
That was the last moment that was peaceful in our world.
A sharp rap at the door woke me out of my thoughts. I took a hesitant step forward. The edges around the mahogany gateway were glowing white, iridescent light. I shuffled my way farther towards it. I wrapped a hesitant hand around the tarnished doorknob. I pulled my hand back quickly when a shot of electricity pulsed through my arm, and down my rigid spine. This was his doing, I was sure of it.
"Come out, my precious Chrysanthemum." His voice was sonorous and just as tempting as I remembered. I shivered and squeezed my eyes shut. Sheer willpower kept me on my feet.
"I'll make it quick," He sang to me, "I promise." I've learned from past experience that his promises were nothing but empty words.
"Come out, my love. I promised to make you like me. Let me keep that promise," he pleads.
"No!" I found what was left of my voice. It was barley a whisper, but I knew he would hear me.
"Your resolve is weakening, my love." He stated softly, "It's only a matter of time now."
My lips wobbled and my eyes spilled over with tears. My already crumbling willpower deteriorated to oblivion. Almost like I was under a spell, my hand encased the doorknob once again. This time, I ignored the electric shock that brought my senses to life. My brain screamed at me to stop, but my body had a mind of its own.
I opened the door.
My house is always surrounded by clouds. Every type of cloud. With the swirling gray masses came something even darker, something horrible. Something that brings a deathly chill, one that sends shivers down your spine. A seemingly invisible force that could bring a grown man to his knees. It sweeps across the meadow and slams into my door. I can't let it in. I fear that if I do I will never see him again. I was the only one left now. I can't let anything stop my plan. Noah couldn't save him, no matter how hard he tried. I was still left with the burden, alone. But how could I save someone from insanity without catching it myself? Should I really take the risk. Let him in... again? I know that I love him. I'm positive of that. But to go through that pain again, my sense of self-preservation in me said no. My heart on the other hand was screaming at me to open the door.
I remember when we were in the meadow. Me laying in his evenly tanned and muscled arms. His hand softly drifted through my hair, creating tingles on my scalp. His liquid cobalt eyes gazing into mine. Oh, those dreadfully wonderful eyes! I smiled softly.
"What?" He asked.
"Nothing, I just want to remember this moment forever." I murmured, snuggling deeper in his arms.
"Forever." He promised.
That was the last moment that was peaceful in our world.
A sharp rap at the door woke me out of my thoughts. I took a hesitant step forward. The edges around the mahogany gateway were glowing white, iridescent light. I shuffled my way farther towards it. I wrapped a hesitant hand around the tarnished doorknob. I pulled my hand back quickly when a shot of electricity pulsed through my arm, and down my rigid spine. This was his doing, I was sure of it.
"Come out, my precious Chrysanthemum." His voice was sonorous and just as tempting as I remembered. I shivered and squeezed my eyes shut. Sheer willpower kept me on my feet.
"I'll make it quick," He sang to me, "I promise." I've learned from past experience that his promises were nothing but empty words.
"Come out, my love. I promised to make you like me. Let me keep that promise," he pleads.
"No!" I found what was left of my voice. It was barley a whisper, but I knew he would hear me.
"Your resolve is weakening, my love." He stated softly, "It's only a matter of time now."
My lips wobbled and my eyes spilled over with tears. My already crumbling willpower deteriorated to oblivion. Almost like I was under a spell, my hand encased the doorknob once again. This time, I ignored the electric shock that brought my senses to life. My brain screamed at me to stop, but my body had a mind of its own.
I opened the door.
My Better Half a memoir
by Lauren
12/19/12
A memoir is a story that comes from the author's memory. It's told in the present about the past.
I remember her well. People say she was my best friend, my cousin, and sometimes my sister. They don't have it right. She was not any of those things. She was my better half. Now I cry at night or when I think of her in the day. Every second of every day I feel hollow inside. That's now. Now that she's gone. I talk to myself and pretend it's just a nightmare, but it isn't. Nobody understands. They say they do, but they don't. Even if it happened to them too. Everybody goes through things differently. They handle things a different way. Me I changed. After she left.
---------------
"Lauren why are you so depressed? It's been 2 years already," my sister asks me.
"I know, but I miss Meara," I say through my tears.
"I miss them to, but I'm not depressed," she says.
"You don't understand." I think out loud.
"Yes I do. I was there. Olivia was my best friend." My sister says this as if she knows what's going on in my head. As if we have the same brain, think the same thing, know the same things, have the same feelings.
"You don't. Nobody does." I say and look away. We aren't the same person.
It turns out I'm a pretty good actor, either that or no one at school cares about me. Not even my close friends notice the tears that fall down leaving sparkly trails on my cheek. I even cried in front of them. They didn't notice. So now I'm wondering if they even care. I wonder why they don't at least try to comfort me. I mean, I'm their friend for crying out loud. Still they don't try. They notice the change, but don't act as though they do. It's like they don't know what to do so they just sit there and ignore the pain I'm going through.
My cats can't even cheer me up. When ever I'm sad I can't just go over to them and pick them up or pet them. They just run away. It's like they don't care either, and they probably don't. I want to talk to her, my better half. I just don't know what to say. I guess I just want to hold her in my arms. Knowing she'll never leave me. Just, that won't happen. If she comes back she'll just leave again. I want to cry my heart out. I want someone to be there for me. I don't want them to say 'I understand,' because they don't.
There is one thing I know for certain about life. It's that you never know what to expect. There is one thing I know for certain about people. It's that no one is the same. There is one thing that I know for certain about magic. It's that real magic is feelings: love, hate, sadness, and fear.
I just need to be loved, I need to feel the better parts of magic. I need to let go of the dark things, the shadows, but I can't, no matter how hard I try. People believe I'm getting better, sometimes it's true I escape the dark magic's hold, but it always get's me back. I've been at least a little better but the pain will never leave. My way of coping for this is pretending the pains not there, pretending to never of known her. It sometimes works, but then I let my guard down. I need a way through, I need my better half. If I can't get her, maybe I could get someone who cares, someone who will never leave.
-----------------------------------------------
It began the summer after fourth grade. Her parents wanted to move to Texas to be closer to her family. She was supposed to leave two years later. We just got four cats and had left for a family reunion in Pennsylvania. During the middle of the week the person we had looking after our cats called. He called to tell us Tiger, my cat, had died.
Tiger had died from blood loss. And to think that my better half had moved that same week. I cried and cried. I don't think I've ever cried that much. It doesn't seem like much, but if you were me you would feel that sorrow weigh on you for a long time. My parents made it worse. They said that if we had been there, we would have been able to save him. Who says that to the girl crying from loss? To think that we could have saved him makes everything worse. To know that I didn't have to mourn my cat. To think of all the what ifs. I lost my best friend and a cat I loved so much, and in a matter of one week.
For fifth grade people could tell the difference. During recess I would sit by myself and cry or think. I didn't laugh or talk as much and I could hardly even write Meara's name. My teacher, Ms. McAllister, would try to cheer me up but nothing worked.
Now in eighth grade I still can't think really hard about this story without crying but I can laugh and talk and smile. I can be happy. I know I can never be truly happy like before, but at least I got somewhere.
12/19/12
A memoir is a story that comes from the author's memory. It's told in the present about the past.
I remember her well. People say she was my best friend, my cousin, and sometimes my sister. They don't have it right. She was not any of those things. She was my better half. Now I cry at night or when I think of her in the day. Every second of every day I feel hollow inside. That's now. Now that she's gone. I talk to myself and pretend it's just a nightmare, but it isn't. Nobody understands. They say they do, but they don't. Even if it happened to them too. Everybody goes through things differently. They handle things a different way. Me I changed. After she left.
---------------
"Lauren why are you so depressed? It's been 2 years already," my sister asks me.
"I know, but I miss Meara," I say through my tears.
"I miss them to, but I'm not depressed," she says.
"You don't understand." I think out loud.
"Yes I do. I was there. Olivia was my best friend." My sister says this as if she knows what's going on in my head. As if we have the same brain, think the same thing, know the same things, have the same feelings.
"You don't. Nobody does." I say and look away. We aren't the same person.
It turns out I'm a pretty good actor, either that or no one at school cares about me. Not even my close friends notice the tears that fall down leaving sparkly trails on my cheek. I even cried in front of them. They didn't notice. So now I'm wondering if they even care. I wonder why they don't at least try to comfort me. I mean, I'm their friend for crying out loud. Still they don't try. They notice the change, but don't act as though they do. It's like they don't know what to do so they just sit there and ignore the pain I'm going through.
My cats can't even cheer me up. When ever I'm sad I can't just go over to them and pick them up or pet them. They just run away. It's like they don't care either, and they probably don't. I want to talk to her, my better half. I just don't know what to say. I guess I just want to hold her in my arms. Knowing she'll never leave me. Just, that won't happen. If she comes back she'll just leave again. I want to cry my heart out. I want someone to be there for me. I don't want them to say 'I understand,' because they don't.
There is one thing I know for certain about life. It's that you never know what to expect. There is one thing I know for certain about people. It's that no one is the same. There is one thing that I know for certain about magic. It's that real magic is feelings: love, hate, sadness, and fear.
I just need to be loved, I need to feel the better parts of magic. I need to let go of the dark things, the shadows, but I can't, no matter how hard I try. People believe I'm getting better, sometimes it's true I escape the dark magic's hold, but it always get's me back. I've been at least a little better but the pain will never leave. My way of coping for this is pretending the pains not there, pretending to never of known her. It sometimes works, but then I let my guard down. I need a way through, I need my better half. If I can't get her, maybe I could get someone who cares, someone who will never leave.
-----------------------------------------------
It began the summer after fourth grade. Her parents wanted to move to Texas to be closer to her family. She was supposed to leave two years later. We just got four cats and had left for a family reunion in Pennsylvania. During the middle of the week the person we had looking after our cats called. He called to tell us Tiger, my cat, had died.
Tiger had died from blood loss. And to think that my better half had moved that same week. I cried and cried. I don't think I've ever cried that much. It doesn't seem like much, but if you were me you would feel that sorrow weigh on you for a long time. My parents made it worse. They said that if we had been there, we would have been able to save him. Who says that to the girl crying from loss? To think that we could have saved him makes everything worse. To know that I didn't have to mourn my cat. To think of all the what ifs. I lost my best friend and a cat I loved so much, and in a matter of one week.
For fifth grade people could tell the difference. During recess I would sit by myself and cry or think. I didn't laugh or talk as much and I could hardly even write Meara's name. My teacher, Ms. McAllister, would try to cheer me up but nothing worked.
Now in eighth grade I still can't think really hard about this story without crying but I can laugh and talk and smile. I can be happy. I know I can never be truly happy like before, but at least I got somewhere.
Unknown's Rebellion
by Jazzmyn C.
3/28/12
When man landed on the moon, they were not alone. When this deity in the Sea Of Tranquility, they were told to keep quiet. They were told to keep me quiet. My name is Dusk. I have lived on the moon for eons. Then they came and put up their flag on my sea! However, my people, now irritated, knew that man were diverse creatures and must stay that way. I cannot hurt them, and they cannot talk about me. Yet I cannot stand that banner in my vast beautiful sea. They may not know about me on Earth, but I will make sure they know about me on the moon. I will cause their precious satellite to quake. I will change the fuse and maybe even make it revolve faster. I will revolt until they remove that flag. And if they don't... The moon will be the largest projectile to sink it's teeth into the Earth. They'll have no choice but to listen. If the simple humans refuse to acknowledge me I will cause chaos. I don't control just the moon. I control all the aspects, even the tides. I can cause tsunamis as big as Australia. Yes, I will be recognized. You will recognize me.
You must.
3/28/12
When man landed on the moon, they were not alone. When this deity in the Sea Of Tranquility, they were told to keep quiet. They were told to keep me quiet. My name is Dusk. I have lived on the moon for eons. Then they came and put up their flag on my sea! However, my people, now irritated, knew that man were diverse creatures and must stay that way. I cannot hurt them, and they cannot talk about me. Yet I cannot stand that banner in my vast beautiful sea. They may not know about me on Earth, but I will make sure they know about me on the moon. I will cause their precious satellite to quake. I will change the fuse and maybe even make it revolve faster. I will revolt until they remove that flag. And if they don't... The moon will be the largest projectile to sink it's teeth into the Earth. They'll have no choice but to listen. If the simple humans refuse to acknowledge me I will cause chaos. I don't control just the moon. I control all the aspects, even the tides. I can cause tsunamis as big as Australia. Yes, I will be recognized. You will recognize me.
You must.
The Countdown
By Taylor D.
Sitting restlessly in my cramped navy school chair, I glared at the clock, which was slowly ticking away.
10 minutes left.
I shifted my position, so I was leaning against my right side. I impatiently tapped my foot and twirled my hair with my finger. 10 more minutes and the heavenly bell coil ring and school would be out.
8 minutes left.
I randomly doodled small swirls in my notebook.
6 minutes left.
My friend and I gathered our belongings, and set them on the desk.
3 minutes left.
I clicked my pen and shuffled my papers anxiously.
1 minute left.
I closed my eyes and counted down the remaining seconds.
10...9...8...7...
I inhaled and curled my fingers on the end of the desk, ready to propel myself forward, and through the door.
3...2...
1!
Ringggg! I bolted forward out of the classroom, into freedom.
Sitting restlessly in my cramped navy school chair, I glared at the clock, which was slowly ticking away.
10 minutes left.
I shifted my position, so I was leaning against my right side. I impatiently tapped my foot and twirled my hair with my finger. 10 more minutes and the heavenly bell coil ring and school would be out.
8 minutes left.
I randomly doodled small swirls in my notebook.
6 minutes left.
My friend and I gathered our belongings, and set them on the desk.
3 minutes left.
I clicked my pen and shuffled my papers anxiously.
1 minute left.
I closed my eyes and counted down the remaining seconds.
10...9...8...7...
I inhaled and curled my fingers on the end of the desk, ready to propel myself forward, and through the door.
3...2...
1!
Ringggg! I bolted forward out of the classroom, into freedom.
The Dive
Taylor D.
2/22/12
Rosie was alive. She cold feel the wind whistling past her ears, and through her hair. Her friends said she couldn't do it, but that didn't stop her. In fact, it encouraged her. People diving off Crumble Rock was very uncommon. It was at least 100 feet high , with large, violent, and crashing waves. It was deadly.
The chance of an experienced diver coming out alive was very slim. But she was experienced. Her friends and she were not afraid to dive into anything. She was sort of like their fearless leader. When word got out of such a deadly dive, it was just too hard to resist. So there she was, hurtling Through the air, her body erect like an arrow. She can feel the mist dusting my face, then splash! She kicked her legs and propelled herself back to the surface. Up on the cliff, She could hear her friends cheering her on, and quickly they jumped after her.
The chance of an experienced diver coming out alive was very slim. But she was experienced. Her friends and she were not afraid to dive into anything. She was sort of like their fearless leader. When word got out of such a deadly dive, it was just too hard to resist. So there she was, hurtling Through the air, her body erect like an arrow. She can feel the mist dusting my face, then splash! She kicked her legs and propelled herself back to the surface. Up on the cliff, She could hear her friends cheering her on, and quickly they jumped after her.
The Magic Table
2/1/22
Once upon a time there was a magical table that killed anyone that ate on it. The table was yellow and sparkly. and had been hidden in a basement until now.
Anna was having special guests coming over and went to the basement to see if there were some chairs. When she was at the back of the basement, she noticed a yellow sparkly table.
She thought, Hmm... This table looks big enough for 6 people and would allow everyone to have more room to eat. I'll ask Joseph to bring the table to the Dining room.
About an hour later, Joseph brought up the table. Anne was setting the table when the guests arrived. The four guests were Lucy, Ryan, Neryssa, and Makayla. As they sat down and began eating, they started feeling nauseous, and then started throwing up.
They were delirious and started woozy. They flailed their arms and stumbled around the room, They kept gagging, but nothing was coming out of their mouths. Soon their throats felt raw and instead of food they vomited a fountain of blood. Their eyes were bulging in horror and the clawed at their stomachs. How could they stop this. Soon they all started to loose the fight their body gave them. They all slumped to the ground after a few more minutes. In the midst of the blood and gore, lay a pristine sparkly yellow table.
Anna was having special guests coming over and went to the basement to see if there were some chairs. When she was at the back of the basement, she noticed a yellow sparkly table.
She thought, Hmm... This table looks big enough for 6 people and would allow everyone to have more room to eat. I'll ask Joseph to bring the table to the Dining room.
About an hour later, Joseph brought up the table. Anne was setting the table when the guests arrived. The four guests were Lucy, Ryan, Neryssa, and Makayla. As they sat down and began eating, they started feeling nauseous, and then started throwing up.
They were delirious and started woozy. They flailed their arms and stumbled around the room, They kept gagging, but nothing was coming out of their mouths. Soon their throats felt raw and instead of food they vomited a fountain of blood. Their eyes were bulging in horror and the clawed at their stomachs. How could they stop this. Soon they all started to loose the fight their body gave them. They all slumped to the ground after a few more minutes. In the midst of the blood and gore, lay a pristine sparkly yellow table.
The Redhead
by Jazzmyn C. (Finished by...mind your own business)
Most people see red heads having auburn hair. Their hair is never really red or orange, for that matter. But me, my hair is red. A tangled mass of fire rooted on a girl's head. Yes, my hair is actually red, with natural orange highlights spread throughout, and rare blond streaks as well. No, I did not dye my hair this way. Who would? Who would want to look like their hair was on fire? Who would want to be called "Hot Head?" Well, I would. Because my unprocessed fiery hair gives me the distinction of being the only true redhead, at least that I know of.
"Heya cupcake," Jackson said while swiveling his eyebrows. I'm sure he thought it made him look sexy, but it just reminded me of a polar bear attempting to dance that I saw on National Geographic.
"Hello there Jackson," I sighed out his name.
"Why won't you call me Jax, babe?" He lent in to whisper in my ear, I shivered. Sometimes my hair made me stand out a little too much for my taste.
"Because it's not your name, plus you don't like it when I call you Jackson, Jackson."
"It would seem that way, wouldn't it?"
"Yeah...anyway, I have class. So...bye," I turned on my heel and sprinted down the hallway. The bell rang...five minutes before I made it to my seat in Psychology.
"Detention," Mr. Tolliver yelled in my ear as I slumped in my seat, he had been waiting for me...yippee. "You do realize that you are five minutes late, and that the whole class waited for you to show up, on the first day of school!"
"Uh...yerp?" I call out into the silence that had leaked into the room
Most people see red heads having auburn hair. Their hair is never really red or orange, for that matter. But me, my hair is red. A tangled mass of fire rooted on a girl's head. Yes, my hair is actually red, with natural orange highlights spread throughout, and rare blond streaks as well. No, I did not dye my hair this way. Who would? Who would want to look like their hair was on fire? Who would want to be called "Hot Head?" Well, I would. Because my unprocessed fiery hair gives me the distinction of being the only true redhead, at least that I know of.
"Heya cupcake," Jackson said while swiveling his eyebrows. I'm sure he thought it made him look sexy, but it just reminded me of a polar bear attempting to dance that I saw on National Geographic.
"Hello there Jackson," I sighed out his name.
"Why won't you call me Jax, babe?" He lent in to whisper in my ear, I shivered. Sometimes my hair made me stand out a little too much for my taste.
"Because it's not your name, plus you don't like it when I call you Jackson, Jackson."
"It would seem that way, wouldn't it?"
"Yeah...anyway, I have class. So...bye," I turned on my heel and sprinted down the hallway. The bell rang...five minutes before I made it to my seat in Psychology.
"Detention," Mr. Tolliver yelled in my ear as I slumped in my seat, he had been waiting for me...yippee. "You do realize that you are five minutes late, and that the whole class waited for you to show up, on the first day of school!"
"Uh...yerp?" I call out into the silence that had leaked into the room
The Report Card
My hands were sweaty and nervous. My eyebrows were furrowed and I was tearing up my lip with my teeth. Any second now, a small piece of paper was going to land in front of me and change the course of my life for the next two months. My mom told me if I didn't bring my grades up, then I was going to have no freedom. She even pulled out the dreaded "G" word - grounded.
I can't get grounded! This is going to be a very busy month for me. I would surely shrivel up and rot if I had to stay in my room for that. There is no T.V. in my room. There is no computer in my room. The only mildly entertaining things in my room are my books. Knowing my mother; she'd probably take those as well.
My teacher had reached our table in the far corner of the room. She seemed to pin me down in my seat with her black eyes behind those red framed glasses. My teeth gnashed together and I took a deep breath through my nose. My teacher looked at me, then to my paper and back again. She smiled at me.
"Congratulations," she said as she handed me my paper. I looked at the report card with wide eyes. The line of neatly printed "A's" stared back at me. Slowly, a gigantic smile appeared on my face. I stuffed the paper into my back pack, and ran out of the classroom; past the group of glum teachers putting off going home. I had something to show my mother.
I can't get grounded! This is going to be a very busy month for me. I would surely shrivel up and rot if I had to stay in my room for that. There is no T.V. in my room. There is no computer in my room. The only mildly entertaining things in my room are my books. Knowing my mother; she'd probably take those as well.
My teacher had reached our table in the far corner of the room. She seemed to pin me down in my seat with her black eyes behind those red framed glasses. My teeth gnashed together and I took a deep breath through my nose. My teacher looked at me, then to my paper and back again. She smiled at me.
"Congratulations," she said as she handed me my paper. I looked at the report card with wide eyes. The line of neatly printed "A's" stared back at me. Slowly, a gigantic smile appeared on my face. I stuffed the paper into my back pack, and ran out of the classroom; past the group of glum teachers putting off going home. I had something to show my mother.