|A story I wrote for my creative writing class that features a talking skeleton as the protagonist.|
|A story I wrote for my creative writing class that features a talking skeleton as the protagonist.|
implications of a coffee datecoffee in the morning;implications of a coffee date by doodlerTM
time for shared doors and
your soul got lost
denying that moment,
trying to change
The Butterfly and the Apple TreeOnce upon a time, a farmer planted an apple seed. The young seedling was to grow into a beautiful tree and produce the finest apples. The farmer watered the seedling daily, fertilised its soil and shaped its branches season after season.
Many years passed and the tree finally blossomed. The flowers were beautiful and attracted the attention of birds, bees and butterflies. No other tree in the land could match the beauty of the farmer's beloved apple tree.
One day, a blue butterfly with a golden tail saw the apple tree and said "you are so beautiful and sweet, just like me - we should be friends". And so, on each day before the sun disappeared behind the hills, the butterfly would visit the apple tree and share stories about how beautiful the world is outside the farm. The apple tree was seduced by these stories and began to resent its life in the farm.
As the harvest season drew to an end it was time for the butterfly to leave, but the apple tree could not bear the thought of being alo
AwakenessDavid liked driving forklifts. He was the best forklift driver Constructech had. He never missed a pallet, and things always got where they needed to go in one piece. Working on the new SuperEnergy plant had been a particular treat for him. So many important and delicate pieces of equipment needed to be brought in, and David took care of them all. Not one load was dropped, misplaced, or forgotten.
It was this fact, above all else, that had allowed David to keep his job after the new Awakeness tests came out. IQ was a thing of the past. Awakeness tested for a person’s awareness of themselves, and their surroundings. Construction companies now wouldn’t take anyone with an Awakeness lower than 85 points. Workplace accidents had dropped significantly.
As David lined up another pallet for pickup, George the foreman sauntered over to him. Ever since receiving his score of 107, George sauntered everywhere.
“Watching the plant activation tonight?” George asked, leaning
Girl of the cityShe’s a child of both rain and the Sun. She feels at home both in September, when the blue sky turns dark sooner and sooner and in March, when her own liveliness seems to have spilt in the world.
Sliding gracefully along the grey temples and pathways of the city, her gaze seems to bring them just a sip of vernal air, a subtle touch of Spring. If she could, she would decorate most of the city with an art or another. Rainbows made of flowers, cloth, paint or words. Sometimes music, instruments diverse that she promises herself she’ll learn one day.
Sometimes changing as the weather, she knows to protect herself from all its fickle habits: a graceful straw hat adorns her hair in the Summer and a rainbow umbrella keeps her just a bit warm during the cozy Autumn rain, though rain she welcomes mostly. It makes her feel anew, a breeze piercing the gentle drops. A moment where the world is cleansed, away even, and a sort of purity has replaced it. Her element.
The stylish attire an
The House (Additions II)As Charles stood before the house, a shudder ran down his spine.
He just couldn’t reconcile this dilapidated building before him with the old, but strangely beautiful, home he had spent so many happy summer weekends seven years ago. The house stood at the end of the street, the very edge of the neighborhood, with woods stretching out beyond the back yard. In its original form, it was one of the oldest in the county, though he would never have guessed it back then.
Of course, back then, the windows weren’t broken, and the paint wasn’t flaking off the walls. Back then, the smug, sick-looking weeds didn’t crowd the lawn as if they owned the place. Back then, the door wasn’t boarded up (to keep people out, and this thought made him shudder again in spite of himself), as if there were something dangerous in there. Back then, there wasn’t spray-paint on the walls, and the long-abandoned FOR SALE sign, where someone had slashed
Human EnoughIt does get easier, in one of two ways:
You close into yourself, for a while, letting the strings and ribbons they tied around your heart fall off. Then you can breathe again and all those places feel new again. The past isn't changed but the way you absorb those places, those sights and smells, isn't going through a filter made of that other person anymore.
Or you close into yourself, for a while, hiding backstage, with the dust and used costumes, until you find a mask that looks close enough to you that it just might fool everyone. So you put it on and you walk out on stage. And everyone applauds and throws roses. You bow, you've done it. You've tricked them all. You accept the good for you's and the atta boy's, letting them all believe you're stronger than you really are. The strings and ribbons around your heart get tangled and harden into chains. But you'll be fine, you've still got your mask; you can fool everyone. Despite the heaviness in your chest...
Little Rabbit Foo-FooIt was late in the evening one Thursday night and Little Rabbit Foo-Foo was hopping drunkenly through the forest, doing what he always did whenever he was this drunk--namely, scooping up any fieldmice he could find and bopping them on the head. The fieldmice protested this treatment of course, but in his drunken state he found their high-pitched pleas amusing and they only served to spur him on further.
He was only halfway through the forest when the trees suddenly lit up around him, and all the fieldmice took advantage of the distraction to scamper away from him. As he stared in shock and confusion, a round and winged form appeared and waved its finger at him crossly before identifying itself as Merryweather, the Good Fairy. "Little Rabbit Foo-Foo, I don't like your attitude," she said, "scooping up the fieldmice and bopping them on the head. Now I'm gonna give you two more chances to reform, and then I'm gonna turn you in to a ghoul."
Then she waved her magic wand and he found himsel
ballad of mr. white sock. ballad of mr. sock.
Two and two did they line the top drawer of the white painted dresser. yellow ones, gray ones, pink polka dotted ones, striped ones, rainbow colored ones, star print ones, animal print ones; all the prints of socks ever dreamed of were stuffed away in the top drawer of this particular white painted dresser. But under the deafening ambiance of the circus of socks, was a small lonely sock cramped in the farthest, deepest, blackest corner; the left corner. Saddened by his sudden loneliness, the little sock reminisced the story of how his pairing was taken away from him. Just the night prior did mr. and mrs. white sock go on their first excursion. To a land out of this world did they travel, in the tattered blue back pack of course. A bedroom of space theme; sci-fi play guns, stars painted to the ceiling that glowed in the darkest of darks, planets taped to
Wrong RingThe slam of the door caught my attention as I looked up from my laptop, knowing exactly who it was. I was expecting her to be here any minute, but I didn’t think she’d be mad enough to slam the door.
“You know what?” she barked at me as I shut my laptop and set it on the cushion next to me. I turned to face the door and her, and I could see the rage in her eyes, but I stayed calm. If I got upset, it’d just end in both of us yelling.
“What?” I asked calmly, sliding my hands into my pockets as I tilted my head slightly to the side. I knew exactly what she was about to say, and she knew.
“You don’t even understand how hard it is for me to just go on pretending everything is okay,” she started as I slightly nodded for her to continue, “We need to talk about this.”
“What’s there to talk about?” I asked and shrugged my shoulders, making her eyes flare at me. I knew I was only making her mo
April LyridsDuring the years of his inhabitance in the fishing village, the old man often ventured to the beach for a glimpse of the meteor showers. Every few weeks, the fabled stars would appear, cutting across the heavens to meet the dark horizon as if they were diving into the ocean, glittering gold rippling across the water's surface.
On one cool April evening, at the onset of the shooting stars, the old man found a little girl by the sea.
She was lying unconscious on the shore beneath the vibrant streaks of light in the sky, pale hair fanned out around her face, pearly skin draped upon small bones, coated in sand and a shimmering dust. After overcoming his initial shock, he picked her up and carried her back to his little house in the village, leaving an iridescent trail behind them.
The strange girl reminded the man of his late daughter. She was ten years old when her mother and she had been returning from their travels onboard a ship. There was a freak storm, and all of the voyagers disap
My Sister's DollsI used to take my sister’s Barbie dolls without permission. I liked her dolls better than mine. And I wanted them because their hair was so pretty like the blond curls of the sun. Rays of light in my five year old sky. All the clothes were still stitched together as if right out of the box and into my thieving hands. So I took them. And I’d play with them until I broke them or I was told to give them back. And I’d get extensive and intricate talks on what was right and wrong. But five year olds don’t understand what that means. My only thought was: I want this, and I have the ability to get this. So why shouldn’t I go get it? What’s stopping me? Nothing. Nothing, I’d say. And so I went and I got them and I played with them. I was happy. I was not confused. I knew. But I didn’t know.
“Give your sister her dolls back.” My mom would say. Her face was stern and her eyebrows furrowed. I’d take notice of the creases and I
|Well, I'm a young adult who likes to draw, doodle (obviously) and write in her spare time. I also like to float around dA occasionally and look at all of the amazing stuff people submit to the site. Please take a look at my gallery and feel free to add suggestions or comments.|