“Stop!” he grunted. I ran toward the garage door, but he snagged my waist, “stop it!”
I kicked and flailed, more blood flying around the garage. He dropped me to the ground in a panic.
My head knocked against the cement, my hand flew to the back of my head, only to get coated in more blood. I looked up at the ceiling, and I could still hear the April rain tapping on the tin roof. Blood was everywhere now. The boy was moaning and grunting and gagging. I closed my eyes. A sudden wave of warmth washed over me. I was going to die now. I closed my eyes and rolled over on my side, my own blood warming the rest of my body.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
LIES!
just kidding. the previous post is not the true premier. the real premier will be posted shortly.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
THE BIG PREMIRE
Katerina Smarts opened the creek wooden door to the musty bedroom that was now her own. She glanced down at the dusty wood floor and set down her backpack. A small window let in light and the dust shimmered in the luminous air. The walls were a creme color, well, at least where is wasn't peeling. There was no closet, but there was a chipped up Armour on the opposite wall of the window. She ventured farther into the spacious room.
She gazed out the dirty window to see the pile of dead grass called "The Yard". Beyond that was a cinder block structure that she assumed was the garage. An old car sat in the middle of the lawn, it was rusted and stood now as a memorial to the days passed.
Disgusted, she turned to examine the Armour. The doors were carved with intricate patterns of swirls and swoops. The knobs were not original and the denim blue clashed horribly with the dark wood. She opened the doors and her bottom jaw fell to the floor at what she saw. NO. This was only a dream. This couldn't be real. Who in all of the world would just leave this piece of pure grace just sitting here to rot in this trash heap of a house?
She gazed out the dirty window to see the pile of dead grass called "The Yard". Beyond that was a cinder block structure that she assumed was the garage. An old car sat in the middle of the lawn, it was rusted and stood now as a memorial to the days passed.
Disgusted, she turned to examine the Armour. The doors were carved with intricate patterns of swirls and swoops. The knobs were not original and the denim blue clashed horribly with the dark wood. She opened the doors and her bottom jaw fell to the floor at what she saw. NO. This was only a dream. This couldn't be real. Who in all of the world would just leave this piece of pure grace just sitting here to rot in this trash heap of a house?
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Deer Don't Eat Rabbits,?
All of my short life, I've gone on thinking that deer eat rabbits. You laugh, but why not? No one ever told me that it was an irrational thing to believe. Rabbits taste good, and deer are fast runners, so it would be easy for them to catch the hoppy little critters. I was always so confused about the Disney movie BAMBI, why would Thumper even want to be friends with Bambi? I mean, can you imagine the summary on the case? "Meet Bambi, a curious little faun, loured into a trap by a rabbit named Thumper,seeking revenge for his cousin, who was devoured to the bone by Bambi's father weeks before. Follow Bambi and Thumper through this psycho thriller as they stab backs and find them selves working together to stop this horrible rabbit eating epidemic."
But apparently, I'm wrong. Oh well.
But apparently, I'm wrong. Oh well.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
No, i'm not tired, i'm still watching th-...(snore)
It's Saturday night. Movie night. The popcorn is popping, the movie is loading, and your pillows and blankets are all set up on the couch for you to crawl into. The microwave dings, announcing that the time is right to hit the play button.
You slide into the blankets and you adjust the pillow and lay down as the credits start. The butter on the popcorn slides down your throat as you chew subconsciously. Oh, yes. this is good.
You're introduced to the main characters. The basic plot to the film is laid out for you and the kissing begins.
You adjust yourself multiple times, in order to get the best view of the action, of course.
The climax is unveiled and you find your eyes becoming unfocused. They roll and shake as you try to prop them open. But you fail. "just for a second," you think, "just to let them rest". But as soon as you let them close, they wont open up again, only fluttering lids.
"Hello? time to go to bed, sweetie," your mother caresses your hair gently.
"But the movie..." you moan.
"it's over," she smiles, "you slept right through it."
You look up to the end credits rolling down the screen, "oh," you get up and reluctantly crawl into bed.
"That was the best movie night yet," you think as you drift off into a deep sleep to create your own version of the movie in your mental realm.
You slide into the blankets and you adjust the pillow and lay down as the credits start. The butter on the popcorn slides down your throat as you chew subconsciously. Oh, yes. this is good.
You're introduced to the main characters. The basic plot to the film is laid out for you and the kissing begins.
You adjust yourself multiple times, in order to get the best view of the action, of course.
The climax is unveiled and you find your eyes becoming unfocused. They roll and shake as you try to prop them open. But you fail. "just for a second," you think, "just to let them rest". But as soon as you let them close, they wont open up again, only fluttering lids.
"Hello? time to go to bed, sweetie," your mother caresses your hair gently.
"But the movie..." you moan.
"it's over," she smiles, "you slept right through it."
You look up to the end credits rolling down the screen, "oh," you get up and reluctantly crawl into bed.
"That was the best movie night yet," you think as you drift off into a deep sleep to create your own version of the movie in your mental realm.
Monday, June 14, 2010
summer
What sorts of things do you do during the summer? Go on summer vacations with your family? Play ball with your cousins? Go fishing?
when I think summer, I think kids running off to find some small adventure, go around the world and be home in time for dinner. I remember some summers more than others. Some things that stick out more than others.Like walks to a massively flooded park, or picnics in the grave yard, horror movies with chips and salsa, and bike rides into neighbor hoods that we really didn't know. I'm content here in the western US. I don't need Hawaii or Broadway to have a memorable summer, I have the tiny town I live in to explore. And that's that.
(if you know any thing fun to do here in Logan, Utah, that's fun to do, leave a comment!)
when I think summer, I think kids running off to find some small adventure, go around the world and be home in time for dinner. I remember some summers more than others. Some things that stick out more than others.Like walks to a massively flooded park, or picnics in the grave yard, horror movies with chips and salsa, and bike rides into neighbor hoods that we really didn't know. I'm content here in the western US. I don't need Hawaii or Broadway to have a memorable summer, I have the tiny town I live in to explore. And that's that.
(if you know any thing fun to do here in Logan, Utah, that's fun to do, leave a comment!)
Saturday, June 12, 2010
CAMP FIRES
Is there anything better than a campfire? Actually, yes, there is; Sitting around a camp fire with friends.
But starting the fire is a group activity. The guys teeter on their knees around the pit, "oh..."-ing, and "awe..."-ing over the wannabe sparks that flutter from their flint and steel.
The girls sit in the creaky camp chairs, enfolded in quilts. They cross their arms and roll their eyes as the Neanderthals in front of them. They mutter amongst themselves and grow more and more irritated until finally, one highly supreme
PMS-ing female jumps out of the chair and rattles a box of matches at the men.
The men shake their heads and continue to scratch the puny flit some more, wasting another half hour of their lives.
At last, the girls revolt and the fire rises, spewing flames and ashes as it burns brightly under the moon.
A moment of silence is given to the fire and then the youngest of the group pops his head out of nowhere, "Marsh-mellows?!?" everyone sighs and the roasting begins.
PLEASE NOTE!!!!!!!!!
OK. well, things have been super crazy, but i got it now, and i kinda ditched my blog for a while, but it's summer time now and that means that i'll have plenty of time to blog at least 2 times a week. some times i run out of things to blog about so suggestions are always welcome. also i have a new email address its; wannabeawriter@yahoo.com
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
FOREST FEAR
My hair flows over my shoulders in long trendils. My dress was once white and sparkled under the stars and moonlight. But here, it seems gray and is specked with holes and snags, both large and small.
I'm running, blinded by hysterical tears, though a forest. Twigs snap under my bare, dirty, aching feet. The Trees rustle as creatures of the night move about their forest homes.
I stop only for a moment to wipe my eyes and listen for him. I don't know if he has given up yet, though seriously doubt it. I'd say he has a pretty good motivation.
I have to strain my ears to here over my frantic panting. Yes. He's still coming. And he's getting closer and closer still. Quickly, I scan the heavy thickets of Cedar trees. Where do I run? I don't have time for a plan. I just need to get away.
I can here the gentle thumping of his feet on the forest floor. That is all the motivation my adrenaline needs to start pumping even faster. My feet kick off the ground and I'm moving so fast that I'm gliding, absolutely weightless.
I'm sure I've gone at least a quarter mile. I stop again and turn back to listen again.
He is there.
Panting and heaving. Sweat is beaded over his forehead and upper lip. His eyes stare straight into mine and hold me in a trance. Though he doesn't say a single word, his eyes talk to me, telling me, "Don't Move. Don't even breath." and I don't. I hold absolutely still as he raises a hand to my face and thumbs my smearing makeup away. My breath is shallow.
He knows how terrified I am, "shh..." is he trying to comfort me? He moves his hand up to my hair and combs it with his slender fingers, "Now," he starts, "all I'm asking is that you come with me quickly and quietly. Then I can take you home and you will never see me again. Please."
I stand there, afraid to speak.
His eyes turn soft, "I promise, I never let any one die when they're with me."
I muster every bit of sanity to murmurer one simple word, "Okay."
Me smiles and I am released from the hypnosis, "My name is Todd Filler, assistant to the eperor, even the all mighty Xavier Rawle, ruler of all of the land of Quering."
I'm running, blinded by hysterical tears, though a forest. Twigs snap under my bare, dirty, aching feet. The Trees rustle as creatures of the night move about their forest homes.
I stop only for a moment to wipe my eyes and listen for him. I don't know if he has given up yet, though seriously doubt it. I'd say he has a pretty good motivation.
I have to strain my ears to here over my frantic panting. Yes. He's still coming. And he's getting closer and closer still. Quickly, I scan the heavy thickets of Cedar trees. Where do I run? I don't have time for a plan. I just need to get away.
I can here the gentle thumping of his feet on the forest floor. That is all the motivation my adrenaline needs to start pumping even faster. My feet kick off the ground and I'm moving so fast that I'm gliding, absolutely weightless.
I'm sure I've gone at least a quarter mile. I stop again and turn back to listen again.
He is there.
Panting and heaving. Sweat is beaded over his forehead and upper lip. His eyes stare straight into mine and hold me in a trance. Though he doesn't say a single word, his eyes talk to me, telling me, "Don't Move. Don't even breath." and I don't. I hold absolutely still as he raises a hand to my face and thumbs my smearing makeup away. My breath is shallow.
He knows how terrified I am, "shh..." is he trying to comfort me? He moves his hand up to my hair and combs it with his slender fingers, "Now," he starts, "all I'm asking is that you come with me quickly and quietly. Then I can take you home and you will never see me again. Please."
I stand there, afraid to speak.
His eyes turn soft, "I promise, I never let any one die when they're with me."
I muster every bit of sanity to murmurer one simple word, "Okay."
Me smiles and I am released from the hypnosis, "My name is Todd Filler, assistant to the eperor, even the all mighty Xavier Rawle, ruler of all of the land of Quering."
(sample of a story I'm planning to start soon! If you want more leave a comment!)
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Saturday, January 23, 2010
The Perfect Saturday Breakfast
Breakfast.
I love the word.
There are so many things that people eat for breakfast. Eggs, Bacon, Waffles, Cereal, Pop-Tarts, Oatmeal, Rice, Apples, Bananas, Grape Fruit, Toast, Pancakes, Sausage, ah... the possibilities are endless! But what's my favorite breakfast food?
Cinnamon Rolls.
They are the perfect breakfast. All rolled up into a tiny swirls of cinnamon blasts and white, gooey, icing. You can tell how yummy they are before they even come out of the oven! All through the house on a bright and jolly Saturday morning, a wispy, intoxicating aroma glides from room to room, tickling your nostrils. It screams, "CINNAMON ROLLS, THIS WAY!" it pulls you to the kitchen and you are unable to resist.
Then, suddenly, as you are staring in total awe at the oven that contains the precious treasure, the timer beeps. You jump at the sound and your soul swells at the thought that in just moments, not only will you smell them to their full potential, but that you will pull them apart with your fork and bask in pure Cinnamon Roll glory.
You automatically reach for a spatula to dish out the gooey treats. One by one they are place neatly on a plate. Your heart is jumping out of your chest. After a minute or two of letting them cool, you put one on to your own plate and make your way to your seat at the dining table.
Your dreams are shattered.
It seems to be happening in slow motion as you watch your true love topple to the ground. You cry out in agony as you jump back. Your eyes pool with tears as you bend over to pick up the now deformed and inedible Cinnamon Roll. Disgusted with the way the icing and gooey cinnamon feel between your fingers, you chuck it into the trash can with a elongated sigh.
You turn to your mother who is standing behind you cracking half a smile with her hands resting on her hips. Turning up your eyebrows and drooping your eyes you hold out the plate to her and she reluctantly takes it. Turning to the sink and wetting the dish rag, you clean up the goop off the freshly mopped tile.
Mom dishes up another Cinnamon Roll and takes it over to the table. You sit down, fork in hand. you stare down the confection and mercilessly devour it. Savoring the precious explosion of flavors that flow through your mouth.
This is bliss.
I love the word.
There are so many things that people eat for breakfast. Eggs, Bacon, Waffles, Cereal, Pop-Tarts, Oatmeal, Rice, Apples, Bananas, Grape Fruit, Toast, Pancakes, Sausage, ah... the possibilities are endless! But what's my favorite breakfast food?
Cinnamon Rolls.
They are the perfect breakfast. All rolled up into a tiny swirls of cinnamon blasts and white, gooey, icing. You can tell how yummy they are before they even come out of the oven! All through the house on a bright and jolly Saturday morning, a wispy, intoxicating aroma glides from room to room, tickling your nostrils. It screams, "CINNAMON ROLLS, THIS WAY!" it pulls you to the kitchen and you are unable to resist.
Then, suddenly, as you are staring in total awe at the oven that contains the precious treasure, the timer beeps. You jump at the sound and your soul swells at the thought that in just moments, not only will you smell them to their full potential, but that you will pull them apart with your fork and bask in pure Cinnamon Roll glory.
You automatically reach for a spatula to dish out the gooey treats. One by one they are place neatly on a plate. Your heart is jumping out of your chest. After a minute or two of letting them cool, you put one on to your own plate and make your way to your seat at the dining table.
Your dreams are shattered.
It seems to be happening in slow motion as you watch your true love topple to the ground. You cry out in agony as you jump back. Your eyes pool with tears as you bend over to pick up the now deformed and inedible Cinnamon Roll. Disgusted with the way the icing and gooey cinnamon feel between your fingers, you chuck it into the trash can with a elongated sigh.
You turn to your mother who is standing behind you cracking half a smile with her hands resting on her hips. Turning up your eyebrows and drooping your eyes you hold out the plate to her and she reluctantly takes it. Turning to the sink and wetting the dish rag, you clean up the goop off the freshly mopped tile.
Mom dishes up another Cinnamon Roll and takes it over to the table. You sit down, fork in hand. you stare down the confection and mercilessly devour it. Savoring the precious explosion of flavors that flow through your mouth.
This is bliss.
Friday, January 22, 2010
NEW BLOG
OK. I just opened this Blog. I have never had a Blog. To be frank, I don't really know what a blog is or it's purpose. I suppose we'll find out... I named my Blog "any old, typical non-sense blog of a teen girl" because... well, it fits me. It is typical because I am a typical whiny teenage girl. the part of it being non-sense is because I don't really make much sense most of the time.
Let me explain myself to you. I am 14 years old and I live in the town of Logan, Utah. I have a really awesome mom, (although, she's hard to get along with sometimes) a daddy, and a exceptionally adorable little brother. (I also have a dog, Roxy)
I love to hang out with my friends and have a good laugh or two with them. I listen to music all the time. I am an avid reader. My very best subject in school is English, and when i grow up i want nothing more than to be a writer.
OH! I would die to be a writer! I write all the time. Non-stop. I'm always trying to let any inspirations fly into my head. Although, I'm not a good writer. Any kind of writer is my goal, an author, a journalist, a poet, play writer, anything.
I hope that this blog can become my new best friend. I really do hope so!
Let me explain myself to you. I am 14 years old and I live in the town of Logan, Utah. I have a really awesome mom, (although, she's hard to get along with sometimes) a daddy, and a exceptionally adorable little brother. (I also have a dog, Roxy)
I love to hang out with my friends and have a good laugh or two with them. I listen to music all the time. I am an avid reader. My very best subject in school is English, and when i grow up i want nothing more than to be a writer.
OH! I would die to be a writer! I write all the time. Non-stop. I'm always trying to let any inspirations fly into my head. Although, I'm not a good writer. Any kind of writer is my goal, an author, a journalist, a poet, play writer, anything.
I hope that this blog can become my new best friend. I really do hope so!
Chao!
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