World War Boy Description

He stands there in the bustling crowd, but he’s the one that stands out of the men, woman and children who are heavily packing boxes into the ship as well as saying goodbye to the soldiers off to war. They all stare at him, then sigh with pity. The poor boy has been through so much, memories ripped from his bare hands, nightmares of roaring fire engulfing a house in flames. The more it parades the more it grows, the shades of sharp orange, blood red and blinding yellow. The evil presence slithering towards him.”Boy! Help your poor hard working mother!” a man says scratching his scruffy beard. The boys velvet magenta coat and pants fit tightly topped with a purple hat and a slick blue feather. He dawdles over to his mother lifting boxes like they’re stones.
“Please cover your face. I’m embarassed,” she says gently brushing her hands along his burned face, along where the flames engulfed him. The elegant flicks of dark red along the side of his face.

“Embarassed? That I survived? That I’m healthy.”

“No! It’s just-”

“It’s just nothing! It’s just that you can’t accept me for who I am, that I was almost burned alive.”

“You know it’s not like that I just don’t want you to be made fun of.”

“Really? That’s your excuse for you not wanting to be a mother of an injured child? Because you don’t want to be the one known for ‘That girl with the burned kid’.”

She walks away in disgust but guilt never will overcme him because it’s the truth.

Hallucination

“I see her everywhere!” I say crinkling the tissues in my hands. I don’t hold in the tears.

“I want you to double your medicine intake by three.” He replies ignoring the comments about my hallucinations.

“Medicine isn’t helping! It’s making it worse!” I say shaking my hands in distress.

“It will help, please leave. You’re making this ridiculous,” he says pointing sternly to the door.

“Ridiculous?” I get up throwing the scrunched up tissue onto the ground cursing under my breath, I slam the door making my ears ring. Exiting the front door I begin to walk home whilst the sun leaks warmth onto my back. My bloodshot eyes stay locked onto the sidewalk, my pale face gets colder and colder despite the warmth of the sun. My shaking fingers run through my greasy hair. Then I hear the small footsteps of my hallucinations. A small girl who come up to my chin trots slighlty behind me, her blonde curls bouncing. “Leave me alone!” I scream walking a little faster. “We come from the dark!” she says catching up tom me.

“You really think that is important!”

“I could tell, you were thinking about it, you were thinking of killing me, your hallucinations.”

Just then she disappears into thin air. I walk into my cottage-like house and step into my dirty bathroom. I stare into the mirror, my eyes an empty void. I grab the orange pill tube and they whisper to me. “Don’t take the pill. Don’t take the pill.”

I slip it into my mouth and the voices stop. The world blends into black and I fell weightless.

 

The Bush

The sun gleams, glistening on the droplets showered on the long sheds of grass. Short, stumpy trees hold handfuls of brightly coloured green leaves trying to soak up the sunlight. A sweet honey, tropical smell lingers, glancing at the silky white flowers also reaching up to the sun. The long sheds of grass tickle the soles of my feet as I brush my long gentle fingers along a flower bush erupting a different smell, a creamy apple and berry smell. A sweet symphony echoes from a tree a short distance away, grabbing my attention as the trees escape from vision and new different sorts appear, oak, maple and pine. The whistling wind floods through each individual leaf making a cool, soothing noise. Then, silence.

Frozen Time

I’ve always wanted to freeze time, to rewind and fast forward. To save the ecstatic and fun times, to fast forward the times when I was in misery. “Darling! You’re late for school!” My mother shrieks from downstairs. I slip on my frayed backpack trotting downstairs and miss my homework on my mahogany desk. “Quickly eat your breakfast before it gets cold.” She says moving the scratched plate towards me making a screeching noise on the grazed breafast table. French toast with powdered sugar, I stuff it into my mouth causing a cloud of sugary puff in the air. “Bye love! See you this afternoon!” She says as I escape through the open door. I close the door but it doesn’t move, It’s stuck, frozen. I turn around looking at the street whilst the sun beams on the dew sprinkled on the grass. The cars, the mailman, the neighbours stood cemented to where they stand, not moving, no sound, no birds singing their peaceful song, no busy bustle of the hustling street, just silence. But I’m not cemented to the ground, my feet are as free as can be. But the paralizing sensation soon tingles my feet, I try to sprint but my feet are no longer in my control. I try to scream but my lips uselessly sit there not allowing the words of fear to escape my lips. I’m stuck, fastened and worst of all, I can’t scream.

The Book Thief

This is a recreation of a scene in The Book Thief but in my own words.

The snow batters on the train window almost barricading us within. I’m still freezing even inside the moving contraption as the icicles dangle from the edge nonchalantely. The train is chugging along the rusty metal tracks whilst the metal tube releases bleached smoke.The train is crowded yet silent, we are all wrapped in wooly blankets like silky cacoons from our home cottages. My mother sits adjacent from me and my brother wordlessly sleeping on her fleecy lap, his head rested on her shoulder. I sit by the chilled window feeling the cold leaking onto my bare legs. I glance upon the landscape that escapes through the other side of the window as I turn to look at my brother still sitting wordlessly, very unlike him, a young soul always yearns for adventure. His eyes empty, like an empty void as crimson red blood drips from his small nose. “Ma!” I scream as I shake her violently. She shrieks and looks at him like a broken doll.

The Werewolf

Running, sweating, screaming. The moonlight shines on my ruined face highlighting the blood that oozes out of the deep claw marks on my cheek whilst  my glazed emerald green eyes release a tear. The sodden grass squishes under my bare feet feeling the tips of the sheds of grass embrace my muddy toes. I glance back, my stringy damp brown hair quickly whips around throwing splashes of water everywhere. The woods behind me are getting smaller but the evil presence hovers over me. The large slender mahogany trunks shoot up high, their bare arms stretched out in gnarled directions as their shadows lurk in the moonlight. A growl, a moan then I hear it running towards me, the mud spraying everywhere. It tackles me to the ground feeling his razor sharp claws scratch my ankle. I kick it square in the middle of its chest leaving it gasping for air, I reassemble myself immediately trying to get a head start even though I know it’s faster than me. But before I can make it to far the mud takes its revenge causing me to slip in a pile of sloppy mud by now it’s got a firm grip on my leg and it slowly drags me. With my free leg I kick it again and it gives no response, no gasp for air, no growl, just dead silence.

Your Own World

Ever wanted to sit down and take a break in our own world? I’m sure at least one of you will understand me, when something horrific happens you can’t help but be heartbroken so our mind generates a world in which nothing horrible can happen. Even when you’re mad you tend to drift off into your own world, it’s like being hypnotized into a world that you created filled with happy memories. Usually when someone has passed away or has left they are almost always in your world because your mind wants to see them again. I can definitely relate to this, whenever I’m mourning over something I pretend that nothing ever happened because you can’t cry forever, you can’t sit in the corner and sob for the rest of your life because there is no point, it’s not going to magically heal the situation. I can definitely relate to these what about you?

The Detective

She shambles over the dusty hills, her coat flapping nonchalantly  in the bitter wind. The pale green heels she wears tiptoe as the moonlight shines on her already bleachy face. Her clothes are akward and obviously too big, her matching mud green past almost slip past her ankles but her purple long sleeved top fits tighly tucked into her pants. The slim silhouette of her tall and lanky figure struts past. She has wide hips and long skinny legs and an irregular face with a pointy chin. Her light pink lips nearly blend in with her skin whilst her glassy crystal eyes danced around skimming what lies before her but it’s too dark to see what sits patiently on the marble table.

 

“Detective.” A slurry voice says.

“I-I can’t do this anymore.”  She says backing away slightly

“You have to, the money is al ready.”

“But a dtective murdering innocent people!”

“They’re not innocent!”

“What did they ever do?”

“You know what they’re doing! They’re from the CIA and they’re hunting us down, we don’t want them to take the money… I know you need it.”

She sighs as the flashlight darts to the marble table, a shining silver blade sits on the table whilst the reflection of her irregular face appears.

“Do it,” he says, “You know you have to.” She picks up the knife feeling the draft run up her chocolate coloured coat. Fear and guilt overcome her and  thoughts race through her mind. She drops the knife. “Do it!” He screams grabbing her wrist beginning to tighten his grip. “Let go.” She says gritting her teeth. Ripping free of his grasp she turns and sprint the opposite direction. He quickly follows dropping his flashlight carelessly. “Come back!” He says stumbling to keep up with her fast pace. As quick as a knife  she is yanked into the bushes. Icy fingers gripped her in the darkness. “Shhh!” A voice says. A pitter patter follows not long behind still flailing his arms and screaming. She can’t see in the darkness but she can feel the smile on the silhouettes face.