Creative Writing: Emmet's Journey

The forest had gone.... and the Witch looked much younger. Audette opened her eyes and had found herself upon a brow of white lilies. The shape of the shrouded old woman seemed changed. Having turned around, and opened her mantle to the tearing gusts, Meliza revealed to the young lady two streams of shinging blackness and smooth white flesh. Audette stopped in her tracks.

She looked and saw nothing, gulping in cleansing, scouring draughts of air. Her hair whipped around her face, and the world was reduced to fragments and blurs, spots and smudges of something unreal. A train whistled through the air behind her, silent as a nightmare. Nothing had ever echoed so vividly as the moan of her own despair.

So when she becomes a vigilante nobody will never know it’s her. So she wrote a suicide note. That way she doesn’t have to go to school. She went back home wrote the suicide note and have some chemicals, drugs, alcohol, and a knife on her desk. Her note read, “Dear whoever is reading this note, I can’t go on any longer. I just can’t take it anymore. I’m so sorry, but it’s the only way for me to be happy. I kept on trying to think positive. But I eventually got to the point that I was ready to die. It is nobody’s fault that I’m gone. I lived a life of anxiety, stress, and sorrow. But it was a good life. I am sorry for the morning you will do. I’m sorry, but I had no friends. No friends at all. Every single day was a struggle. I have been secretly depressed for two years now. I didn’t even think I could make it through the rest of the school year. Every day for two years I have always wanted to do this. So I could fall into eternal sleep. I was tired of the shoes I have been given. I wanted somebody else’s shoes. Or no shoes at all. I wanted a different life. I didn’t want it to be perfect. I just wanted another life where I could be happy. I just wanted a life where I didn’t have to keep any secrets from anybody. I know life is so short. It only lasts for so long. I know there is emotions and feelings I will never experience if I do this. I will never know what it is like to be a parent, to be a local role model, to be myself, to have no secrets, and more. Besides, no one will miss me when I’m gone. I just wish people could see the world through my eyes for once. And I could see the world through their’s. If only I could feel comfortable around others, instead of being someone I am not. Life is a gift everyone says. You should cherish it. Well I wish I had no present. I wish I was someone else. I know now that life is like a flower. That if you water it with happiness and positivity it will

it to invade her consciousness more and more completely, till at last there was nothing left in the

After John harnessed the team to the wagon, he, Charity, and Charles loaded Uriah into it. She and Charles then headed to town with him. She left John and Martha Jane to watch over the younger children, with strict orders that they had all better be on their best behavior until her return. John was nearly twelve; she figured he ought to be capable of watching the little ones.

Laurel nodded her head when she heard that Zinda would be willing to aid her in her efforts of keeping the city running smoothly. “With that attitude I think Ryder will love you.” She stated with a small laugh, her head shook from side to side. “Even before the outbreak I always had a hard time sleeping.” She reached her right hand up and placed it against the back of her neck, rubbing at it. “So it really doesn’t bother me all that much.” She nodded her head. She knew what Zinda said was true, that she should try and sleep more but that seemed easier said than done. She really tried to sleep at night sleep just seemed to elude her, it was never there when she really need it. Like the night they got back from the Farmhouse, all she wanted to do was fall asleep and forget the whole events that had taken place there. Sadly that didn’t happen, she stayed up all night thinking about how she could have done thing differently, that she should have stayed with Kate.

After saying goodnight to Simon and Magnus, Clary quickly shut the door to the library. The hallway was silent and still as the ocean tide, she had heard Lilian call for her just as her best friends in the world told her their goodbyes for the night. Magnus had conjured up a portal which would take him and Simon back to the village where they lived. Simon lived in a simple but modest house, on the outskirts of town, on a farm with his Mother and older sister. Magnus however, resided in a small, comfortable loft just above the local clothing store.

There was an eerie silence for a minute or so. I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. I couldn’t process what was happening. I just stared at her. A faint white blur in the distance growing smaller. I wanted to go to her. To protect her like I promised I would do, but I could only float away. I couldn’t bring myself to look back at her so instead I turned to look at the fading wreck that had once been our ship.

Earlier mentioned was the symbolism of the window and how it made her feel trapped rather than free. Even though the windows give a panoramic view she says, “For the windows are barred for little children…” (309). I am still unsure if there were really bars and rings on the wall or if that was just how she felt in the room. My thoughts are that this feeling and idea of being confined to a nursery only added fuel to the child-like treatment that she found so irritating. As the narrator’s delusions progress so does the depth of her confinements.

As sick as it was Gabby needed a drink, and she hated herself for it. Pulling her knees up Gabby rested her head against them and wrapped her hands around her ears as if to block out the world. It felt as if she were being sucked down the rabbit hole, her world spiraling out of control. And the only anchor she had was dying next to her, and she was the one that killed him. "fuck." she sobbed softly tried to block out all the other people arriving. She wanted to crawl into her own skin and disappear, but she couldn't do that. At least not until she knew Hunter would be

Tucked into the stiff, stale-smelling waiting-room seat, patiently waiting on Clemmons to call her in, Veronica admired her own timing; she’d managed to finagle an excused gym absence and everything.

Maison was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring down at their shoes. The shoes were battered and dirty, memories of blood and fights in every crack and crevice. They hadn’t had the desire to get new ones since they had gotten back. Gotten back, that was such a bullshit way to phrase it. They hadn’t gone anywhere, they had been there the whole time, the whole, long, awful time. They hadn’t been in Cuba or Wisconsin or London. They had been trapped within their body as something dark and evil destroyed almost everything it laid it’s eyes on. The worst part was that it hadn’t been completely awful. Maison had enjoyed it, deep down in themselves.

Clem’s father sits opposite him at the kitchen table. His eyebrows are furrowed and the veins in his head are exposed, large and angry.

Her ears rang. Everything burned in an intense wave of heat in an instantaneous flash which then dissipated just as quickly. Noises of panic, muffled, as if an ocean was between them. And sounds had filtered down into a monotonous high-pitched, screeching drone. Utter chaos beneath a veil of tranquility.

I looked up at the house. It was glorious. I had finally escaped the excruciating labor of my mother. The torturous, agonizing pain day in and day out. The mental and physical pain. It was over. The suffering was over. Finally, it was over.