As I pace around the room like a toddler just waiting for reply. My nerves on edge just wondering if my mom found out I literally would be dead. There would actually be blood spewing out of my body somewhere and not anywhere pleasant. Which makes me re-think my decision. Beeeep beeeep, I get sidetracked from a high pitched screech from my fone and it says only a half hour left… I sprint to my room, turn on my straightener and begin throwing around my clothes desperately trying to find something to wear. I did not know HE was going to be here so soon, I thought I had plenty of time to beautify myself. Finally, I found something that I could wear, something suitable for the occasion. My phone goes off again and my stomach dropped, I felt like I was going to throw up. Was he here already? I’m not even close to ready, there is no way HE …show more content…
Puddles forming under my armpits, I begin to think, did she find out, oh my gosh she found out I am a dead man! With all the strength I have, I slowly opened the message like I am opening the door of an empty house as if something is going to jump out at me. I exhaled deeply, all she wanted to know was if I cleaned anything yet. What a relief I convinced myself to relax and continued getting ready for the day I have left. I finally am done putting on my makeup and straightening my hair. I check myself out in the mirror making faces like a model would before a big shoot. When I am satisfied I walk out of room, go over to my phone, there is no messages at all. Huh, I thought that is weird. So I go over to my fridge to get something to eat, when I open it there is nothing, it is completely empty like the barren sierra. I begin pacing around the house again, my nerves on edge yet again. I make myself sit down it felt as if someone else was pushing me around like a big ole bully. I turn on the tv, found my favorite show and start to slip into an acoma of forgetfulness of what the day was suppose to consist
I also don't own the idea, it was requested to me by the wonderful Amanda. Thank you so much! I hope I did this idea justice.
We were interrupted by a phone call from my dad. My mom was still joking and in a silly mood when she started talking to my dad. Suddenly the conversation turned from joking to dead silence and my mom started crying. She tearfully asked, "Is she ok? Was she alone?" I was thinking my sister went riding and fell off her horse or that something had happened to my grandma.
That night the neighborhood was alive with music and lights, "that party would be talked about for a while" thought Jerome. Everything was perfect, he had the best costume, didn't feel sick, and he was pretty popular that night. Then it all went downhill, he was talking to his friend and didn't notice when a stranger walked by and put a pill in his drink. The next thing he knew he woke up locked inside an asylum, still dressed in his 80's themed costume(disco pants, sneakers, Afro and rainbow leg warmers). If you thought he could just go out the window, you thought wrong, 4 stories up inside a locked room. Knowing he could get out through the the door or the window he looked for another way out, finding a piece of paper with the words "lay on the bed and
Sam and Antonello agreed to meet for a drink at the Vic. When Antonello arrived, Sam was already sitting at a table not the bar; on the table, on his side there was beer, on Antonello’s side a glass of red wine. Sam was bald, what was left of his hair, a rim of short hair, was flecked with grey. He had put on weight, but he was not fat, there was just a hint of a beer belly under the blue Metal Workers Union windcheater. ‘I took a punt – ordered you a red.’
I’m very exited! I can’t believe the time is actually here! We’re going to Disneyland! We’ll be just 6, with our parents of course, but they won’t be with us through the day. None of us are actually family, but our parents get along pretty well.
Yesterday I woke up at 2pm, because my neighbors had a baby and he kept crying all night. I couldn't sleep until he stopped crying and fell asleep, but after I finally fell asleep he started crying again. I don’t want to be mad at him or anything. He is just a baby. But I couldn’t get any sleep because of him.
I remember when I was five years old. It’s already dusk. The sunset scenery was extremely vivid to my mind. My eyes are steady to the horizon, face aglow with the last orange rays before twilight beckons the stars. I have watched with a steadfast gaze, as the burning red light sank beneath the horizon, the threads of light dawdled in the sky, blending with the rolling heaps of clouds, the cool breeze of the pristine air pass through my innocent body, dyeing the sky orange, then red, and blue until it becomes entirely dark.
The old woman sighed, too. She directed her attention to the poor lsplotchy bird still eating in her purse. “Why are you just sitting there?” she finally asked RED. “Because there is no red for me to change.”
He says that he loves me. My sister demands, “Aren’t you going to tell us that you love us?” I look back at Thomas, but he isn’t in the car anymore. Maybe he has gone to score more pot. I try to say something to my sister and father, but I can’t think of much.
Rose-hued eyes stared back with a glint of contemplation, lips, as thin as the reed swaying in the spring breeze and pale as the winter’s snow were set in a grim line. Slowly, with lean fingers shivering indefinitely, they grasped the small black tube upon the counter, twisted it open then produced a color of red as bright as the blood. Heaving a heavy sigh, she held the tube closer to her lips, drawing a fine color thus concealing its whiteness. For a moment, she stared at her, noting her pallid cheeks and hence, give several pats on them, which produced a slight shade of pink, consequently coloring them. Quite satisfied with herself, she offered a faint smile, her slender fingers pushing back a strand of loose hair behind her ear.
Statuesque “You’re it!” would be words we liked to hear as children as we were enjoying our game of tag. Some call it ‘catchers’ or ‘touchers’. One child was nominated as ‘you’re it’ and got the game going by chasing after the rest of the players who ran away from ‘you’re it’ in order to stay in the game. The moment that you were touched by ‘you’re it’, you would have to sit down or leave the designated play area. This would continue until all the players had been caught, or until ‘you’re it’ gave up and selected one of the players who were out and called out “you’re it!”
“Hmm, gloomy as usual.” Sneered Olivia. Olivia and her friends arrived to school, called Jennifer’s School for Girls, located in lousy Philadelphia. She had been going to this school as long as she can remember. “Not surprised.
The chirping of the blueish birds worry me, an indication that dawn is near, but I don’t dare to slow my pace. Midnight is fading away, taking what little humanity I have away from me. Soon, a poor family will wake to see that their son has disappeared from his bedroom. They will be left to mourn alone, cursing the monster that stole him away as they will have every right to.
A Wednesday matinee, nonstop rain, many empty seats at the Met, an audience that did not know when to applaud, and didn't seem to care about applauding, either . . . Multiple elements combined to prevent today's Lane-Simkin Giselle from reaching the top-drawer level of last year. That breathless, edge-of-the-seat astonishment which was palpable at Lane's debut performance was missing today. And while a rainy day can put a damper on anything, an electric performance on stage should be able jolt a sleepy, apathetic audience utterly awake.
Grabbing my set of keys to the house from my pocket, I unlock the door and step inside. The house is dark, which tells me that Mom hasn't returned from work yet. She'll probably be at work until at least five, and its four-thirty now. Flicking on the light, I throw my keys on the table and grab a quick snack from the cupboard. While I munch on the granola bar, I think about the day's events.