Quick note

Just a quick note to say, I won’t be updating for a while because of school and rubbish stuff like that. Apologies for the screwed-uppy-ness of the piece in the Classwork #2 post, it doesn’t seem to be working. I’ll try and fix it when I work out how

Classwork #2

Only four days into the new term at my new school, and already I’m writing in lessons. Shame on me, eh? This is a poem and an (extremely) short story.

Callie

The door slams, a bang that echoes through the house.
"Callie!" She shouts, angry already. I flinch. They told her. I'm in for it now.
Unless... my mind wanders, drifting to the window, it's open frame oh so inviting. I take a step towards it, even though I know I shouldn't.
I can hear her footsteps, tapping down the hall.
She's at the door, I'm half way out.
"Callie." She says, quietly now, shocked.
And I let go of the window sill.

Sitting at the Window

Sitting at the window,

Looking at the rustling trees,

An empty playground nurtures,

A massive pile of leaves.

Behind the darkened windows,

Children live and breathe,

Happy in the shadows,

Or crying on their knees.

Unhinged

Some random teenage chick goes on the rampage. This is her internal monologue as she does so. I’d also like to point out that this does not reflect my feelings in any way, whatsoever. I just started writing

A tiny part of me wanted to burst into tears, crying at the injustice of it all, the sickening weakness I felt. But the rest of me, the dominant part, the part which never normally came out because I hated it so, wanted to scream, and shout, and fight against it. And that part controlled me, maybe because of the alcohol, and maybe because it was so ridiculously… ridiculous that I should be put through this. Me! Me, the nerdy, never noticed teenager, hiding behind years of loneliness, had suddenly been picked up and swept away by the supposed ‘popularity’ which had been thrust upon me. And suddenly I was wanted- people wanted to be my friend, and I was stunned. I went along with it all, and found myself with a boyfriend. I never wanted a boyfriend before, but suddenly, I had one, and I had no idea what the hell I was supposed to do with him. And now he’d cheated on me, and my so-called friends were pouring gushing rivers of sympathy upon me, and I honestly didn’t care. So they’d called me a lesbian, and suddenly I was outcast, yet again. Only this time, it was far worse, and I wanted to fight back, so I’d had something to drink, and now it was fire in my veins, a furious fire that wanted revenge. I didn’t want revenge, but it had to be done. There was no two ways about it, I had to get them back. All of the stupid, slutty bitches. Every. Last. One.

Saphira

Just a little something I wrote. It’s not very good, but whatever

The soft notes of the guitar hang in the air as Saphira sat on the wall, gently stroking the instrument with her tired fingers. A ring decorated her hand loosely, the pretending-to-be-gold gleaming slightly in the sunshine. Her dark hair, some of it hidden under a black trilby hat, swung gently with every strum on the guitar, its glossy brown highlights standing out against her pale skin. Her lithe figure was curved around the guitar, so much so that she was in danger of falling off the wall. She didn’t, however, and held her balance perfectly throughout the rest of the song. By the end of it, she had an audience. Noticing there were people watching, she shifted uneasily, and tipped her hat, blushing. Jumping down from the wall, she slung the guitar over her back, and, keeping her head down, began to walk away.
“Hey Saph.” She heard a voice say softly, by her ear. She jumped.
“What do you want, Laker?” She said.
“Not on first name terms anymore, eh?” He said, his voice full of apology.
“Laker, I don’t want to talk to you. Not now, not ever.” She said tiredly.
“That’s not what you said..” he was cut off by a sharp slap to the face.
“Don’t even try, asshole.” She said, sharply.
“Look, I’m sorry, I came here to apologize.” He pleaded.
“You’re doing a great job.” She said, turning round, and trying to walk away.
“Saph!” He said, raising his voice, and taking hold of her arm.
“What do you want from me?” She said, the frustration seeping into her voice.
“I want you back.” He said, softly, tears filling his eyes. She half-laughed, pulling her arm out of his grip.
“You should’ve thought of that before you got involved with her.” She said, venom filling her.
“So your best friend doesn’t have a name anymore, either.” He said, sadly.
“I don’t have a best friend.” She said, and walked away.
Tom Laker was left in the street, overwhelmed with guilt. He had to find a way to make it up to her. All the while, Saphira continued making her hasty departure from the scene, feeling sick and shaky. This was not how it was meant to be, she found herself thinking. Shaking her head, she entered the small cafe, its homely decor bringing her instant comfort.
“Hot chocolate?” She said, when the waitress approached her. The waitress smiled warmly, and immediately brought her one. Pulling up an extra chair, the waitress sat at Saphira’s table, wordlessly telling her she’d be there.
“Oh, Fran.” Murmured Saphira, putting her head in her hands.
“Tom?” said Fran, biting her lip.
“Yes, Tom. The moron thinks he can win me over with a simple apology. He doesn’t understand how much it hurt.” Whispered Saphira, trembling slightly as she took a sip of her drink.
“That moron makes me sick.” Said Fran, supportively. “You’re better off without him.”
“I hope you’re right.” Sighed Saphira.
“Hey, there’s a place come up for busking in here tonight…. Want to?” Offered Fran, hoping Saphira would cheer up at the prospect of performing.
“Yeah, okay.” She nodded, frowning.
“I’m supposed to be working.” Said Fran, sheepishly. Saphira smiled slightly.
“Thanks.” She said, and nodded as Fran stood up. A tear rolled gently down her cheek once she was alone again, but she wiped it away hurriedly. She couldn’t afford to get emotional, she had things to do.
Yes, things to do. Concentrate on that, Saphira, she told herself, blinking back the tears. Concentrate on that.

On a warm, summery day.

This was my vague attempt at humour/horror combination. It’s, uhh, not very good, and this is after much tweaking. :/

It was a warm, summery day. The street, which was lined with trees, was full of crowds of people, shopping their hearts out, or just wishing they could afford that perfect dress. The men, the ones with the stuffed wallets, at least, were all tiredly trailing after the women, each daydreaming of their own “Wish I was there.” The tall, shady trees each sheltered a moody teenager, dressed all in black, with hands in pockets and headphones in ears. Young couples walked hand in hand, getting envious looks from the married couples, who had so carefully distanced themselves. There were groups of teenagers acting cool, swaggering from shop to shop, with the girls checking their appearances in each and every window, and the boys checking the girls appearance whenever they got the chance, both in the windows, and without.
As for me, I was here on my own. As much as I enjoyed watching the people interacting with each other (or themselves, as the case may be), that wasn’t why I had come. Taking a few steps forwards, I submerged myself in the crowd, blindly shoving through the masses of people, all dressed in the supposed latest fashions. I shut my eyes, blocking out the blinding sun for a moment, and looked again. The writhing mass of people were still there, but it felt different. The air had a chill to it.
Staring round, I noticed the blankness of each and every face. Typical Americans, I though, striding onwards, choosing to ignore the atmosphere that was developing. I made my way to the square, set in the center of all the shops. There were two worn benches in the square, set on opposite sides. One was occupied by a teenage couple who appeared to have nothing better to do than salivate over each other. The other was empty, so I sat, and pulled out a worn magazine from my bag. Focussing on the brightly coloured cartoons, remeniscent of my childhood, I barely noticed when the bubble of chatter, occasionally punctured by loud laughs, gradually got quieter and quieter, until the street was silent. I didn’t even notice when I started shivering, until a tap on my shoulder brought me back to reality.
I swivelled round slowly, realising the square, the shops, and the entire street were completely empty, save the face that hovered before me.
“Who are you?” I asked, not sure if I really wanted the answer. My voice was shaking.
“You don’t need to know.” Said the face, softly. Suddenly, there were two sets footsteps behind me. I turned, flailing my arms, but it was too late.
My whole world went black.

It was a warm, summery day. The street, which was lined with trees, was full of crowds of people, shopping their hearts out, or just wishing they could afford that perfect dress. The men, the ones with the stuffed wallets, at least, were all tiredly trailing after the women, each daydreaming of their own “Wish I was there.” The tall, shady trees each sheltered a moody teenager, dressed all in black, with hands in pockets and headphones in ears. Young couples walked hand in hand, getting envious looks from the married couples, who had so carefully distanced themselves. There were groups of teenagers acting cool, swaggering from shop to shop, with the girls checking their appearances in each and every window, and the boys checking the girls appearance whenever they got the chance, both in the windows, and without.
As for me, I was here on my own. As much as I enjoyed watching the people interacting with each other (or themselves, as the case may be), that wasn’t why I had come. Taking a few steps forwards, I submerged myself in the crowd, blindly shoving through the masses of people, all dressed in the supposed latest fashions. I shut my eyes, blocking out the blinding sun for a moment, and looked again. The writhing mass of people were still there, but it felt different. The air had a chill to it.
Staring round, I noticed the blankness of each and every face. Typical Americans, I though, striding onwards, choosing to ignore the atmosphere that was developing. I made my way to the square, set in the center of all the shops. There were two worn benches in the square, set on opposite sides. One was occupied by a teenage couple who appeared to have nothing better to do than salivate over each other. The other was empty, so I sat, and pulled out a worn magazine from my bag. Focussing on the brightly coloured cartoons, remeniscent of my childhood, I barely noticed when the bubble of chatter, occasionally punctured by loud laughs, gradually got quieter and quieter, until the street was silent. I didn’t even notice when I started shivering, until a tap on my shoulder brought me back to reality.
I swivelled round slowly, realising the square, the shops, and the entire street were completely empty, save the face that hovered before me.
“Who are you?” I asked, not sure if I really wanted the answer. My voice was shaking.
“You don’t need to know.” Said the face, softly. Suddenly, there were two sets footsteps behind me. I turned, flailing my arms, but it was too late.
My whole world went black.

An air of calm

Sorry for lack up updates, it’s the holidays and I’ve been busy This is vaguely inspired by the misty night we had last night, and I looked out the window at 5am to see trees rising out of the mist. It was beautiful

An air of calm settled over the gathering. The misty covered ground numbed their feet as they sat, each shivering, but determined to stay. The group was lit by a single candle, in the middle of the circle they had made. Not a single one had their eyes open as the 13th person entered the circle, his face shining in the flicker of the candle. His dark brown hair framed jeweled amber eyes, set in a face pale and cold. The candle flickered out, and he began to speak, in a cold, harsh, gutteral tongue, he summoned the people surrounding him, and each stood. Their eyes flashed red as they succombed to the power he exuded, and they knew he was in control.

Name

Me, being random, yet again. I got inspired. *shrug*

Amarie sat at the edge of the square, watching it fill with people. The performers were popular, as always, and the seagulls took every opportunity with food. She watched as the young man entered the emptying chapel, and then she stood up. Smiling, she made her way towards the chapel, entering and going straight to the back rooms, walking as if she had a right to be there. As she entered the dark, curtained hallways, the young man smiled at her.
“You came.” He said, approvingly.
“I did.” She grinned slyly, and produced a package from under her worn dress. “Are you going to tell me what you wanted it for now?”
He took the package from her, looking deep into her dark eyes.
“No.” He said, smiling.
“But?” Amarie protested, her eyes twinkling.
“But I might just take you with me.” He said, winking. Amarie grinned, and followed eagerly, a bounce in her step, as he walked through the dark doors at the end of the corridor. Amarie squealed as he opened the door, and let her into his private abode.
“This is your home?” She asked, excitedly.
“Yes.” He said, and shut the door behind her, discretely turning the key in the lock. He smiled, his face devoid of the kind features she’d seen just a moment before. Opening the package, he took out the knife, and held it to her throat.
“Thank you for giving me this, Amarie.” He whispered in her ear.
“How did you know my name?” She gasped, and he grinned wickedly as he plunged the knife into her throat. As she lay there, bloodstained, he let the smile fall from his face, and quietly whispered.
“Because I gave it to you.”

Poem & Story

The poem is a simple poem which I wrote after I made a bracelet out of… err.. paper. I got the line, “Paper chain bracelets” stuck in my head, and I just had to do something with it.  The story is basically, I got stuck on the image of a bus, rattling along in the dead of night, and I needed to practise third person writing. Is a bit rubbish, but what can you do?

Paper Chain Bracelets

Paper chain bracelets,
and scribbled on hands,
Guady nail polish,
and kids in ‘cool’ bands,
Gormless eyed faces,
The teacher commands,
She can see all this,
From where she stands.

Maybe

I’m writing this as part of a larger story- I was inspired.

I turned and watched my mother walk away, as I chewed my lip and prayed it would be okay. Turning round, I swung open the door to the classroom. I kept my head down, winding my way through the desks to a seat at the back, where I would avoid as much notice as possible.
“Who’re you?” I heard a voice, as I sat down in the corner. I glanced across to my neighbour, and smiled nervously. I was shaking.

“I’m Leigh. I’m starting today. You?” I asked.

“Jess.” She said, leaning forward. I noticed the anxious gum-chewing first, then the nose stud. “I been here for years. I’ll look after you.” She said, her strong accent showing through. She may not be the perfect person, but hey, it’s not like I’ve got much of a choice. I turned and watched as others filed into the room. A tall, black girl, with angled cheekbones and angry eyes slumped in the seat next to Jess.
“New meat?” She asked Jess, looking me up and down.
“She’s called Leigh.” Said the girl.
“I’m Chesney.” She told me. “Where you from?”
I paused. This was the question I’d been waiting for. “Tarragh.” I said, quietly.

“Woah, serious?” She said, with a half-laugh. “Why the hell did you move, then?”

“My d-” I started to say, before the teacher entered and silenced me with a sharp glare. “Tell you later.” I whispered to Jess and Chesney, as the teacher began to call out the register.
“Everyone say hello to Leigh Harvey.” She said, and I scowled, my face turning red.
There were a couple of snickers, before people lost interest and the lesson started.
“You were saying?” Said Jess.

“My dad got caught stealing.” I shrugged. I didn’t mention the heartache when we’d been kicked out, but dad had had to stay behind. I didn’t mention how much I missed him. I acted like it was no big deal, because these were tough girls. Not girls who’d tell me it’d be alright, and not to worry, and how they’re sure I’ll see him again one day.
“What he nick?” Said Chesney, a broad grin spreading across her face.

“Stuff.” I said, not wanting to go into it. There was a pause, as they waited for me to elaborate, and I sighed, knowing I’d have to go further. “He took one of the books from the library. One of the hidden ones.”
I winced, waiting for their reaction, but they just laughed and told me that my dad was ‘well cool’
I frowned. Maybe I’d be alright here. Maybe.

Non-Writery Stuffs

I just thought I’d make a post to say hi! I don’t know how many people read this (well, I do, and it’s not much, so I’m pretending I don’t know) but I never actually made a welcome post.
So, Welcome! Make yourself at home! Comments are positively ENCOURAGED. I do like my comments.

And of course, click!