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.
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.