Creative Writing: Back To The Prison

“Some people say I was lucky to survive, other will say I deserved it for the choice I made. I’m here to say I was lucky, it’s never ok to say your life isn’t worth living even at your worst you can always look forward tomorrow will come and if you put your mind to it you’ll see that anything is possible.” – Stephen McGregor Professional Paralympian

Good. I touch the icon and drag it. Oh, it’s following my finger’s movement. Alright, let’s see… I drag it to the slot that indicates my right hand. Immediately, the bokutõ shows up on my hand with a quick white light.

It was Sunday and this meant that I would spend it at Booth Memorial Park giving historical tours of the home. The Booth brothers David and Stephen Both owned the property. They were traditional American entrepreneurs. They were republicans and abolitionist and philanthropist . They fought their whole life’s for injustice and taking care of those most left out of our society during. I have always found a profound sense of pleasure at this Park like I had a deep and spiritual conception to the place . The building the Booth Brothers built and the beautiful rose garden with a tremendous amount of roses always contributed to my instance love of the park . As I looked in the distance I saw a large and ominous storm cloud above the graveyard of the property. All of a sudden the day took a dramatic turn as a strange and eccentric man entered the building that would change my life forever.

Recently, I passed a through a small town in Massachusetts. It just so happened that very evening, a parade was to take place. I arrived late in the evening by ferry, and walked through the dark streets for some time. Further up the road I could see two figures, a woman with a scarlet petticoat and a boy. Before I could approach them, I happened upon a pleasant inn and, taking note of my rumbling stomach, decided to find a meal. The innkeeper, a French Protestant he told me, greeted me upon my entering and remarked that I was the second guest to come through. As I sat down to sup, an old man with a concerning cough sat beside me. Although we did not hold conversation, I heard him mumble about a “young country boys not knowing their place”.

This time the store owner had called the police. Roxy had shoplifted from his establishment before but I had always been able to fix it; most times by paying double the price. Peering through the faceted glass of my front door, I could see Mr. Pachenko pacing the brick-edged sidewalk, his face pale with anger. With his blood pressure, the bright red spots on his cheeks would be with him for the rest of the night.

Detective Tom Reilly let the photo slip from his fingers, and ran his palm over a scalp adorned with light brown hair, shorn in a buzz-cut, then lifted his deep-blue eyes to stare at his colleague. "I'm not sure, Jarrod," he replied slowly, and drew his gaze back to the image of the bruised, battered and naked woman that had landed face-up on his desk, located in a office on the second of the Police building in the ninety-sixth precinct. The woman who, by appearances, could be his wife's sister. Not that you could tell from the crime-scene photo.

He was worn out, his hand hurt badly, and now he had to fight for his life with one of those enormous warriors.

The bar had an upbeat vibe to it. It wasn’t the high end bar where you could pay to get your ass kissed and your feet rubbed, but at least you didn’t have to worry about walking outside and getting robbed or stabbed on your way home. It was a fairly unremarkable place, a plain black building, a neon sign outside the only hint to the place being able to serve alcohol. Most meandered around, drinking and talking, with the occasional dance when a rather catchy song found it’s way onto the less than stellar sound system.

Have you ever opened a door of a room and the first thing that happens is you get greeted by a tumbling stack of clothes that fall all over you? Well in this room this was the case, it was a complete and utter mess! The odor was intolerable, a mix of aromas filled the air from things like stinky old gym socks from a couple of weeks ago, to used bath towels smelling like wet dog. The stench wasn’t the only thing that was ridiculous, you could barely see the carpet on the floor! In fact half the right side of the room was taken over by gigantic piles of clothes, wrinkled, unwashed, old, dirty, all clothes were just mixed in piles which started at the entrance of the door and were almost reaching the top of the ceiling. It

"Wake up, partners," the trail boss, James called. I sleepily looked up , shivered, and saw I was the only one not up. "Here," James said, giving me the horses' bridles and saddles. "Take these and get the horses ready. We have a long day today." I groaned in reply and set up the horses for the day's long drag. I was the horse wrangler and this was my everyday job but I still couldn't get use to the idea of waking up before the sun and working. We drove the cattle into open plains against the winter's cold wrath.

Okay, to get questions out of the way, this is more of something I'm doing to relieve myself of something that's been weighing myself down for a very long time. But, be that as it may, I'm interested in seeing who else realizes this as well, so that is why I am leaving this on public. Okay, to start with, the title. "Broken World". I chose that for the title to show potential readers what it is that I am currently trying to tell people what I see when I look at the world. I see it as broken. Some people do not, and I understand how that is possible. But, what the point I am trying to get across is to at least show or introduce some people to the issues that stand in our world at the current time that are ruining it and making it harder for

Minimis desperately wanted to stay in Castellum. He felt so appreciated here, so welcomed. He was sure word had spread about his fight with Maximus, and that he would be ridiculed by the entire kingdom for his actions. His lack of strength, combined with the fearful thoughts of what may lie ahead once he returns home, Minimis considered giving up, and letting the guards put him in prison for stealing the expensive medicine his father so desperately needed. However, he knew that was not an option. He had to complete his mission and save his father.

I laid on the cold soil in a pool of my own blood, the air in my lungs depleting, my heart thumping fast, yet I couldn't help but think about the irony in my stupidity.

Mom had rushed to the store when it was discovered that there was no more ice cream in the freezer. My father had wisely retreated to the parlor to read. I was in charge. Suddenly, from upstairs I heard a door slam and raised voices. I gritted my teeth and went to investigate.

The rest of my family walked into the kitchen and sat down, mom and dad read the paper and looked like they had just seen a ghost all through the cover story. We ate a almost peaceful breakfast besides Scarlett singing Jack and Jill fell down a hill the WHOLE time, I don’t know what is wrong with her. Mama said that it was a little girl who died in the paper. Mama said she had been kidnapped. Mama said by a bad man a very bad man. I asked Mama to tell me more about the little girl and she said yes.