I had to do this for creative writing, and since this site is severely lacking, I figured I'd give it a shot.
For my Creative Письмо Class
The Faith Healer
He сказал(-а) to her, “I can cure you.”
Wide eyed and desperate, she believed him. She had been to doctors, and hospitals, and oncologists galore. And his hands were soft, and his eyes inviting. She trembled in his embrace as he tried to soothe her aching fears.
“I’m tired of waiting,” she breathed, her chest rattling with effort.
He kissed her forehead and stroked her hair, holding onto her as if his own life depended on it. She pulled her arms up against her chest, her pallid skin moist with cold sweat as she buried her face in his shoulder and he sang to her, in honey-sweet harmonies, and she felt her agony dissolve into a black pool onto the floor. He laid her gently onto the постель, кровати when he felt her stop trembling, but he didn’t let her go because her chest was still rising and falling in a steady, slumbering rhythm. He continued to sing, his amber tones coating her in a blanket of warmth. She had faith, and she trusted him like she trusted God. And soon enough, her chest rose and fell for one last time, and then she remained still.
And he kept his promise.
Haunted
She said, “You know why you’re doing this, don’t you? Because Ты can never let go otherwise.” But he just closed his eyes and looked away, pretending not to see her. She persisted, but never touched him. “Years and years of devotion. I Любовь you. We had vows. And now, Ты can’t even look at me. Because Ты will never let it go.”
She won’t let me, he thought bitterly, but merely shook his head, continuing to ignore her golden hair and piercing gray gaze. He collected his papers and licked his chapped lips, straightening his tie.
“This is our home,” she begged. “Our life. I lived and died in that house. Gordon, please, Ты Любовь it like I do. I just want to go Главная again, Gordon. If Ты do this, I won’t have anywhere to go.”
The sooner I do this, the sooner she will be gone, and the sooner I can mend the pieces of the soul she shattered, he insisted. He took a deep breath and smiled, straightening up in his chair.
She touched him and he felt her ice cold hand on his. “Gordon, Ты can’t do this to me, to us. We’re supposed to be together forever. Forever is a long time.”
For an instant, he remembered her, how she used to be, young, sweet, free, alive. He remembered the house, the first time he carried her over the threshold, the first time they made Любовь on their bedroom floor because they hadn’t moved in yet, and the time he came Главная and found her motionless with glass eyes on the couch, staring at something he would never see. And that was all he needed.
He yanked his arm away from her, stood up abruptly and threw the papers down on the table. The men looked at him curiously.
“Burn it to the ground,” he сказал(-а) and left the room.
Bus Stop
She was just sitting there, waiting for the bus, kicking her feet back and forth on the bench as she bit her lip and folded her arms, trying to keep warm. She sighed, and the smoky tendrils of her warm breath lingered momentarily in the air before disappearing. She was sitting on her math textbook in order to avoid touching the bench.
And then he sat down beside her.
Her eyes darted sideways at him, but when he turned his head, they darted away. She felt his eyes lingering on her shoulders, so turned her head tentatively to glance at him bashfully, and he looked away sharply. She’d skipped breakfast. He offered her a granola bar. She suggested they трещина, сплит it.
They smiled.
Soon enough, Eric, who was in the sixth grade, came a long, and started to tease them both. He moved a little further down the bench and she hung her head low, her face burning as Eric called her a nerdy little fourth-grader with a щенок dog crush.
And then, the bus came. She looked up at him, but he avoided her eyes. Eric got on the bus first and she followed, tears welling in her eyes. But as she took her first step on the bus, she felt something small and cold slip into her bare hands. She looked down and saw that it was his raw, розовый hand that was clasping hers.
They smiled.
Ambulance
It started very simply. I crashed. It was eerie… and then all I could think of was the pain. Yeah, they say Ты go all spiritual and see bright lights and noises, have your life flash before your eyes… No. Ты feel the pain. You’d think there’d be more. I wanted to see my life flash before my eyes, I wanted to see a light at the end of the tunnel, I wanted to hear crazy voices. But it hurt too much to think.
“We need to take him upstairs.”
“I’ll call surgery and get them ready.”
Ты see, I can’t tell Ты what it’s like right before Ты die. Maybe it’s the same, maybe it’s different for everyone. But it’s personal. I can’t tell Ты because… Well, I’m not really here to do that. If Ты think about it, I’m not really here at all.
“I don’t know how much еще this kid can take. We may need to call it.”
“No. Not again.”
Ты see, I’m not really talking to you. I can’t be. I guess I’m a figment of your imagination. Because I’m dead, Mom. Ты can’t really talk to me anymore.
“What do we tell his parents?”
But Ты know, it’s not so bad. Just don’t worry about it, Mom. I left Ты a poem in a drawer in my end table. It’s not very good, and it’s only one line, but it’s all I’ve got. It says, “I Любовь you.”
“That’s it, we’ve done all we can.”
“Call it.”
“Time of death, 12:03.”
El Salvador
Jessica packed her bags at five in the morning with a few changes of clothes, her passport, her toothbrush, and a photograph of her dead father. She crept downstairs to the кухня where she turned on the light and saw her mother sitting there, in a blue terrycloth robe, nursing her coffee as she watched Jessica. Jessica swallowed, but held her head high as she repositioned her backpack and headed to the fridge where she took out a loaf of bread, two apples, two oranges and three bananas. When she had packed all this in her bag, she turned to her mother and asked her for money.
“What will Ты do with it?” her mother asked.
“I’m running away to El Salvador,” she said.
Her mother blinked, her face inscrutable, and she slid an envelope across the кухня table. Jessica took it and put it in her backpack. As she headed for the door, her mother called after her. “I’ll miss you, baby.”
Jessica hesitated for less than a секунда before leaving without a секунда glance at her mother.
Several hours later, the sun had risen, and tired and tearful, Jessica stumbled through the front door and tripped, landing in her mother’s arms, who held Jessica tightly as she cried.
The Charlatan of the Charleston Theater
He was the best actor they would never hire, или so he claimed to everyone who bothered to ask why he sat outside of the charred, dilapidated building. It had been abandoned for decades, and yet he always offered to take your tickets as Ты passed by. Most walk right by him without a секунда thought. I used to do the same.
And then one day, he called me Isabelle.
“My name is Claire,” I told him simply, quietly, discreetly, hoping that maybe I could be on my way. He made me nervous, this shaggy vagabond that reeked of old milk.
“Isabelle,” he repeated, latching onto my arm. “You walk by me everyday, and I never told Ты I’m sorry.”
There was desperation etched deep in his arctic blue eyes, and it reached out Холодное сердце hands and gripped my stomach, tying it into knots. “Let me buy Ты a drink,” I muttered, suddenly overwhelmed with compassion as I enveloped his hand in both of mine.
And so he did, and I asked him the Вопросы no one dared to ask a dangerous vagrant. He told me how after his tenth audition, he had set огонь to the theater. Three people sustained severe burns, and one had died, but to this день he had never confessed, and had never been convicted of arson. At the bottom of the bottle, he gazed at me, with softer eyes and a sweet smile.
“Thank Ты for forgiving me, Isabelle,” he whispered, his voice haggard and rough. “I remember the line Ты сказал(-а) in rehearsal as Joan of Arc, before the огонь started. Ты said, ‘No one could ever Любовь anything as much as I Любовь God.’ Well, I just wanted to tell you, Isabelle… God could never love, as much as I Любовь you.”
Feel free to critique. I'm no softy. Promise.
For my Creative Письмо Class
The Faith Healer
He сказал(-а) to her, “I can cure you.”
Wide eyed and desperate, she believed him. She had been to doctors, and hospitals, and oncologists galore. And his hands were soft, and his eyes inviting. She trembled in his embrace as he tried to soothe her aching fears.
“I’m tired of waiting,” she breathed, her chest rattling with effort.
He kissed her forehead and stroked her hair, holding onto her as if his own life depended on it. She pulled her arms up against her chest, her pallid skin moist with cold sweat as she buried her face in his shoulder and he sang to her, in honey-sweet harmonies, and she felt her agony dissolve into a black pool onto the floor. He laid her gently onto the постель, кровати when he felt her stop trembling, but he didn’t let her go because her chest was still rising and falling in a steady, slumbering rhythm. He continued to sing, his amber tones coating her in a blanket of warmth. She had faith, and she trusted him like she trusted God. And soon enough, her chest rose and fell for one last time, and then she remained still.
And he kept his promise.
Haunted
She said, “You know why you’re doing this, don’t you? Because Ты can never let go otherwise.” But he just closed his eyes and looked away, pretending not to see her. She persisted, but never touched him. “Years and years of devotion. I Любовь you. We had vows. And now, Ты can’t even look at me. Because Ты will never let it go.”
She won’t let me, he thought bitterly, but merely shook his head, continuing to ignore her golden hair and piercing gray gaze. He collected his papers and licked his chapped lips, straightening his tie.
“This is our home,” she begged. “Our life. I lived and died in that house. Gordon, please, Ты Любовь it like I do. I just want to go Главная again, Gordon. If Ты do this, I won’t have anywhere to go.”
The sooner I do this, the sooner she will be gone, and the sooner I can mend the pieces of the soul she shattered, he insisted. He took a deep breath and smiled, straightening up in his chair.
She touched him and he felt her ice cold hand on his. “Gordon, Ты can’t do this to me, to us. We’re supposed to be together forever. Forever is a long time.”
For an instant, he remembered her, how she used to be, young, sweet, free, alive. He remembered the house, the first time he carried her over the threshold, the first time they made Любовь on their bedroom floor because they hadn’t moved in yet, and the time he came Главная and found her motionless with glass eyes on the couch, staring at something he would never see. And that was all he needed.
He yanked his arm away from her, stood up abruptly and threw the papers down on the table. The men looked at him curiously.
“Burn it to the ground,” he сказал(-а) and left the room.
Bus Stop
She was just sitting there, waiting for the bus, kicking her feet back and forth on the bench as she bit her lip and folded her arms, trying to keep warm. She sighed, and the smoky tendrils of her warm breath lingered momentarily in the air before disappearing. She was sitting on her math textbook in order to avoid touching the bench.
And then he sat down beside her.
Her eyes darted sideways at him, but when he turned his head, they darted away. She felt his eyes lingering on her shoulders, so turned her head tentatively to glance at him bashfully, and he looked away sharply. She’d skipped breakfast. He offered her a granola bar. She suggested they трещина, сплит it.
They smiled.
Soon enough, Eric, who was in the sixth grade, came a long, and started to tease them both. He moved a little further down the bench and she hung her head low, her face burning as Eric called her a nerdy little fourth-grader with a щенок dog crush.
And then, the bus came. She looked up at him, but he avoided her eyes. Eric got on the bus first and she followed, tears welling in her eyes. But as she took her first step on the bus, she felt something small and cold slip into her bare hands. She looked down and saw that it was his raw, розовый hand that was clasping hers.
They smiled.
Ambulance
It started very simply. I crashed. It was eerie… and then all I could think of was the pain. Yeah, they say Ты go all spiritual and see bright lights and noises, have your life flash before your eyes… No. Ты feel the pain. You’d think there’d be more. I wanted to see my life flash before my eyes, I wanted to see a light at the end of the tunnel, I wanted to hear crazy voices. But it hurt too much to think.
“We need to take him upstairs.”
“I’ll call surgery and get them ready.”
Ты see, I can’t tell Ты what it’s like right before Ты die. Maybe it’s the same, maybe it’s different for everyone. But it’s personal. I can’t tell Ты because… Well, I’m not really here to do that. If Ты think about it, I’m not really here at all.
“I don’t know how much еще this kid can take. We may need to call it.”
“No. Not again.”
Ты see, I’m not really talking to you. I can’t be. I guess I’m a figment of your imagination. Because I’m dead, Mom. Ты can’t really talk to me anymore.
“What do we tell his parents?”
But Ты know, it’s not so bad. Just don’t worry about it, Mom. I left Ты a poem in a drawer in my end table. It’s not very good, and it’s only one line, but it’s all I’ve got. It says, “I Любовь you.”
“That’s it, we’ve done all we can.”
“Call it.”
“Time of death, 12:03.”
El Salvador
Jessica packed her bags at five in the morning with a few changes of clothes, her passport, her toothbrush, and a photograph of her dead father. She crept downstairs to the кухня where she turned on the light and saw her mother sitting there, in a blue terrycloth robe, nursing her coffee as she watched Jessica. Jessica swallowed, but held her head high as she repositioned her backpack and headed to the fridge where she took out a loaf of bread, two apples, two oranges and three bananas. When she had packed all this in her bag, she turned to her mother and asked her for money.
“What will Ты do with it?” her mother asked.
“I’m running away to El Salvador,” she said.
Her mother blinked, her face inscrutable, and she slid an envelope across the кухня table. Jessica took it and put it in her backpack. As she headed for the door, her mother called after her. “I’ll miss you, baby.”
Jessica hesitated for less than a секунда before leaving without a секунда glance at her mother.
Several hours later, the sun had risen, and tired and tearful, Jessica stumbled through the front door and tripped, landing in her mother’s arms, who held Jessica tightly as she cried.
The Charlatan of the Charleston Theater
He was the best actor they would never hire, или so he claimed to everyone who bothered to ask why he sat outside of the charred, dilapidated building. It had been abandoned for decades, and yet he always offered to take your tickets as Ты passed by. Most walk right by him without a секунда thought. I used to do the same.
And then one day, he called me Isabelle.
“My name is Claire,” I told him simply, quietly, discreetly, hoping that maybe I could be on my way. He made me nervous, this shaggy vagabond that reeked of old milk.
“Isabelle,” he repeated, latching onto my arm. “You walk by me everyday, and I never told Ты I’m sorry.”
There was desperation etched deep in his arctic blue eyes, and it reached out Холодное сердце hands and gripped my stomach, tying it into knots. “Let me buy Ты a drink,” I muttered, suddenly overwhelmed with compassion as I enveloped his hand in both of mine.
And so he did, and I asked him the Вопросы no one dared to ask a dangerous vagrant. He told me how after his tenth audition, he had set огонь to the theater. Three people sustained severe burns, and one had died, but to this день he had never confessed, and had never been convicted of arson. At the bottom of the bottle, he gazed at me, with softer eyes and a sweet smile.
“Thank Ты for forgiving me, Isabelle,” he whispered, his voice haggard and rough. “I remember the line Ты сказал(-а) in rehearsal as Joan of Arc, before the огонь started. Ты said, ‘No one could ever Любовь anything as much as I Любовь God.’ Well, I just wanted to tell you, Isabelle… God could never love, as much as I Любовь you.”
Feel free to critique. I'm no softy. Promise.
My black rose
I am not nice but I feel.
I wonder but I don't know
what about.
I hear people talking but I never know what they say.
I see many thinks but never know what I'm looking at.
I want people to look to the past but not dwell on it.
I pretend to be something I'm not.
I fell things i cant see.
I touch and the smoothest things feel rough.
I worry that the день will never end.
I cry but tears never come.
I understand that not ever ones the same.
I say something i don't mean.
I dream but only see blackness.
I hope that someday someone we'll see through my shield I put up and see me.
I am not nice but i feel.
I am who I am!
I’m quiet on the outside
An all-wrecking, raging storm on the inside
I can’t speak,
Because I fear I can only produce inhuman cries
But my inner screams overwhelm any external sound
I don't blame Ты for not seeing behind my hollow eyes
I don't blame Ты for not hearing anything but silence
And I don't blame Ты for not feeling my сердце breaking in my chest, over and over again
But I wish Ты would just hold me, and tell me I'll be okay.
That somehow, this all-consuming pain is not going to kill me.
That I will come out of this, stronger.
I wish I could distance myself from this destruction,
But I belong in the center of the hurricane
Because I need this pain, like I need oxygen
So, let my ravel in my agony,
Without it I am nothing
An all-wrecking, raging storm on the inside
I can’t speak,
Because I fear I can only produce inhuman cries
But my inner screams overwhelm any external sound
I don't blame Ты for not seeing behind my hollow eyes
I don't blame Ты for not hearing anything but silence
And I don't blame Ты for not feeling my сердце breaking in my chest, over and over again
But I wish Ты would just hold me, and tell me I'll be okay.
That somehow, this all-consuming pain is not going to kill me.
That I will come out of this, stronger.
I wish I could distance myself from this destruction,
But I belong in the center of the hurricane
Because I need this pain, like I need oxygen
So, let my ravel in my agony,
Without it I am nothing
Chapter 1:The begaining
It started with the fighting,the endless fighting.It was mid Febuary 2001 when a couple with a small boy and another child on the way,split.They had been aurguing for hours on end and the husband,Jason,decided to leave and live with a friend for a while.While the wife,Sandra,cried and wept to no avail Jason left.Jason had contracted pnemonia and was placed in a hospital only days after his fight with Sandra.Sandra was also in the hospital but for a different reason,she had дана birth to a girl named Emily.And that was the begaining of Emily's life,a life full of sadness and missery that will come to a halt and be cut short by the evil hands of fate and the mind.
It started with the fighting,the endless fighting.It was mid Febuary 2001 when a couple with a small boy and another child on the way,split.They had been aurguing for hours on end and the husband,Jason,decided to leave and live with a friend for a while.While the wife,Sandra,cried and wept to no avail Jason left.Jason had contracted pnemonia and was placed in a hospital only days after his fight with Sandra.Sandra was also in the hospital but for a different reason,she had дана birth to a girl named Emily.And that was the begaining of Emily's life,a life full of sadness and missery that will come to a halt and be cut short by the evil hands of fate and the mind.
A silhouette standing alone,
Amongst a field of arid snow,
Waiting for something still unknown,
Not any further from the tombstone.
Awaiting a sign of life and hope,
Letting out a deep sigh,
“It’s not getting any easier to cope”
A whisper carried by the wind.
The stars: my aspirations,
But city lights in the distance,
Taunted it from their foundations,
Caustic lights ending its existence.
An unattached shadow standing in solitude,
Amongst a field of caustic cold,
Tired of waiting, wanting to end,
I was everything untold.
Amongst a field of arid snow,
Waiting for something still unknown,
Not any further from the tombstone.
Awaiting a sign of life and hope,
Letting out a deep sigh,
“It’s not getting any easier to cope”
A whisper carried by the wind.
The stars: my aspirations,
But city lights in the distance,
Taunted it from their foundations,
Caustic lights ending its existence.
An unattached shadow standing in solitude,
Amongst a field of caustic cold,
Tired of waiting, wanting to end,
I was everything untold.
tell me why do Ты pretend
to let the agonizing memories
of your damaged past let Ты
be the person that Ты are
now,
please let your body,
mind, heart, soul,and
feelings escape the
tragic night-mares and
feel my: "etreindre de'
amour" around Ты for-
ever.
my etreindre de' amour
is what i can offer to you,
through this time that you
will feel from me.
will Ты feel my ever-
lasting touch of Любовь as
Ты grieve over the Остаться в живых
memories and moments
that Ты never gotten back.
let me take your
emphasized wounds
and give them to the
crumbling world that
never lets Ты feel the
Любовь that Ты need to
feel in your life now.
but Ты look for my
casual-words that will
give Ты strength that
Ты need to go on with
your life.
your endless obession
for living this lie trying
to get past this pain, that
will forever remains inside
your soul now.
to let the agonizing memories
of your damaged past let Ты
be the person that Ты are
now,
please let your body,
mind, heart, soul,and
feelings escape the
tragic night-mares and
feel my: "etreindre de'
amour" around Ты for-
ever.
my etreindre de' amour
is what i can offer to you,
through this time that you
will feel from me.
will Ты feel my ever-
lasting touch of Любовь as
Ты grieve over the Остаться в живых
memories and moments
that Ты never gotten back.
let me take your
emphasized wounds
and give them to the
crumbling world that
never lets Ты feel the
Любовь that Ты need to
feel in your life now.
but Ты look for my
casual-words that will
give Ты strength that
Ты need to go on with
your life.
your endless obession
for living this lie trying
to get past this pain, that
will forever remains inside
your soul now.
My anger came that day,
i tried to stay calm through
it all but my emotions just
gave way without me telling
them too.
She saw my frustration
taking shape and took
me in her loving arms
and told me it would be
okay.
I knew that my personal
emotions would show,that
i would pretend not to be
upset, and playing them
off as casual-words and not
the hurtful words as to what
they sounded to me.
I wanted to barricade
myself inside my head
and listen to those supposed
hurtful words that were being
сказал(-а) about me,
The thoughts that raced
through my mind were not
the words that i heard coming out
of his mouth that day,
All i can say to Ты is
that i accused him of
being wrong and that
was unfair for me to do,
i tried to stay calm through
it all but my emotions just
gave way without me telling
them too.
She saw my frustration
taking shape and took
me in her loving arms
and told me it would be
okay.
I knew that my personal
emotions would show,that
i would pretend not to be
upset, and playing them
off as casual-words and not
the hurtful words as to what
they sounded to me.
I wanted to barricade
myself inside my head
and listen to those supposed
hurtful words that were being
сказал(-а) about me,
The thoughts that raced
through my mind were not
the words that i heard coming out
of his mouth that day,
All i can say to Ты is
that i accused him of
being wrong and that
was unfair for me to do,
