Creative Writing: Dare For More

At this instant exiled from my tribe; I headed toward to the shores of my former home. With only my trusty canoe, I was in search of a new abode. Furiously marching in the forest, I contemplated on what I was about to do. A short instance of gibberish interrupted my thoughts. Instantaneously, I carefully placed my canoe on the forest floor and hid in a nearby bush. With sweat falling from my smoky caramel body, I slowly peeked out of the brushy trees and into the calm ocean waves. Near the shore, I spotted an ominous giant canoe looking structure. Never have I seen such a colossal raft. I was just about to exit the forest to inspect, but I heard a snap of a twig behind me. My stomach clenched as I gasped for air. I turned around. The last thing I remember was seeing a pale image of a man, after that, just darkness.

Game seven of the World Series, bottom of the ninth inning. I will always regret it. The series was tied 3-3 so whoever won next game, won it all.

Stacy was a single mom with two kids. Never having alone time since she had her two twin girls Jane and Jude, 6 years back. Stacy’s friend Mary was constantly begging her to get out of the house just for an evening and leave the girls with a baby sitter. Stacy had finally decided it was time to let herself have some fun for a night. Stacy was running around the house trying to give the kids dinner before the babysitter came. The doorbell rang and Stacy dropped what she was doing to answer the door.

“Ramon is signaling to them: it’s time to go. Pedro and Manuel get up and walk slowly towards him. Their hearts are pounding with hope and fear. To them, this night will either mean a return to their old, hopeless life or the start of a future in a new and unknown story .”

‘Testing, testing, 123,’ a voice spoke from the intercom in the top corner of the room. Devon waited for the small red light to momentarily flash to start speaking. ‘You’re heard loud and clear, sir.’ He relayed.

I look out the window above the sink as my mom replies. "Ok, sounds fine, bring a swimsuit, and that light purple sweater for night time, and hiking boots and old sneakers, and LOTS of socks, and-" I listen to her as I search out the window for nothing in particular, until I see a movement in the window of Camden's house on the first floor. I stare at it as my mom drones on, and Camden emerges from behind the curtain and waves creepily.

I hunkered down behind the massive boulder and managed to wedge myself between it and another stone and I kicked out. It didn’t budge. I shoved again, harder, but it wouldn’t give an inch. My only option was to use

The man she watches controls the reality. Controls the very threads of existence, weaves his way through to create something bigger than him. It's sickening, really. Revolting is a better word for it. For some reason she keeps watching him, though. He has small habits that are hard for the eye to see, like subconsciously rubbing the Eye of Agamoto when he is nervous (Or if. The man was hardly nervous), or running his hands through his thick ebony hair. She did notice, however, that his hair is not all the silky raven color. Bits on the side are grayish white, staining his imperfection. It is the little things that catch her eye.

The screech of the old automatic doors to the Countdown supermarket open before me. As I walk in I'm bombarded with smells of freshly baked breads,fresh fruit straight from the trees and preserved meat, ready to sell to the customers arriving in an hour. I walk through aisle 1 towards the employees room and grab my small metallic name tag. My small shaky hands fumble to put the tag on my old faded Countdown shirt. As I turn around to walk back towards my checkout, I notice other employees shouting and laughing at each other as if they were lions fighting over their prey. My gleaming gold hair cascades down my shoulders as I release the hair tie and continue towards the shiny metal checkout. As I reach the checkout I see my reflection in the window. My dark brown eyes remind me of wood. Boring and dead. The opening bell pierces my ear drums like an arrow pierces the dummy.And I watch as the old dull automatic doors open and close, and the customers walk in.

"Arkon! Why are you home so early!?" He stood in the doorway silently staring. Blood still dripped from his metal clad hands onto the wooden floor. Metal creaked as he closed his hands into fists.

I was cold damp and the air smelt of old wood and smelly feet. My mother was holding me but the place I was in was a place I didn’t like and the atmosphere seemed sad and gloomy. You could hear footsteps going up and down the hallways but you could barely see anything in the dimly lit room. There was iron bars and a small window where the slightest of light was able to seep through. The little window was the only comfort as the sun’s light came through in the mid afternoon providing warmth and a sense of comfort. It lit the room just enough to allow you to see many boring features of wood and bars. As the wood heated and released some of its moisture the smell of the decay became a little stronger.

I kept telling myself it would be okay. I couldn’t run any faster than I already was. I could hear the thumping in my chest, and thinking he could hear it, made a shiver run down my spine. My eyes darted around, searching for the dark silhouette of a trench coat. I heard a crunch in the leaves behind me. I scrambled around looking for a hide away, when my eyes landed on a hole in the ground, big enough to fit my body. I jumped in it and covered myself with wet leaves. I heard the faint noise of crunching leaves traveling further and further away from me.

The world is a remnant of its former glory. In times long past, it had risen to a golden age of hero and myth, as humanity valiantly waged a war against demonkind until they were beaten back to the very edges of existence. This was not without cost, however, and soon both sides were echoes of their former selves. One such echo takes the form of a girl, as she feverishly chases the trail of her disappeared heroic ancestor to little result. This trail leads her to a windy, lonely mountain on the outskirts of the realm of humanity, where she is met by a strange young man who is, no matter how frayed by time the thread is, tied to her family.

I lean against the wall of a train as it chugs along the path. My once gorgeous tuxedo is torn and ragged. I wish this was a dream, but it can’t be. I’ve tried waking up multiple times. My life used to be amazing.

A cool breeze was thrown into the hot summer air, and I breathed it all in. Today was August 2005, and school was nearing a little bit faster than I had hoped. I was on the swing, reading one of my favorite books. The blue bird in the distance called out, and I slowly drifted into sleep.