Creative Writing: The Painted Girl

“What story would you like to hear today, Chloe” asked Grandma Chica as Chloe walked into the house.

“DOGGY!” Karter screamed running over to the girl to see if he could pet it.

Tizio brought Painted Girl home after a long day of work. There was an odd car in the driveway. Painted Girl got out of Tizio’s truck and waved goodbye to him. She made her way up the walkway, pausing to look at the plain stoop. Beige siding, railing and door, the only color change was from the off-white concrete. She made mental plans for the entrance but wondered about the spiffy new Land Rover in the drive. She sighed. She hoped that Sarah had followed the plans for the house. It was written down in clear English, all she had to do was follow directions. She continued to hesitate worried that the house would be chaotic. She wanted to be home for Christmas. She reached for the door handle but it was jerked out of her hands and she

        “She's from the Boarding House. There, everyone called her Kitty,” reminds Eleanor and his face lights up in recognition.

“I’ve missed you.” He scratched behind her small, leathery ear flaps and her eye rolled up into her head with pleasure. She enjoyed it for a few moments before sliding down into his lap and looking at him expectantly, her suction-cup mouth making anxious pop-pop noises.

“Oh,” Grant muttered, mostly to himself, “well that’s good, I guess. Thanks, Auntie.” Grant shuffled over to the dining room to help finish setting the table with the other women. He didn’t look back.

“Mr. Josten, Mr. Josten!” yelled one of the eighth graders from my current math class in Crescent Middle School. I figured it would be another out of context question, as that was the norm for Andrew. Andrew had always seemed to be the one who tried his hardest, but could not focus on his schoolwork, or anything for that matter. I acknowledged his raised hand to hear, “what would happen if someone figured out how to pass things through time?” I figured since there was a small amount of time left in the class period, I could answer his question thoroughly since I majored in both math and science. “Well Andrew, if I had to guess I would say that someone would receive that object unexpectedly in a different time period. However, if someone creates

I don’t know about you, but when I was a little girl, I would always walk around the house and picture how I might look when I was finally ALL GROWN UP... Well, that ‘look’ that I had in my head, almost always consisted of some style of curls, adorning my cinnamon brown skin.

“What’s wrong with him?” Vinyl said, her voice cracking, sounding worried. A tear streamed down her face, and I held her close.

He turned back to the medicine cats’ den. I wonder what Sageflower’s taught our daughter so far? He scrambled to his paws, stretched stiffness from his limbs, and jumped down neatly into the clearing below.

Again, the dark laughter echoed in her head. Shit, shit, shit. She was so damn stupid, so bloody arrogant. In spite of the sunglasses she wore to lessen the risk of overstimulation to her senses, the lenses were no safeguards against the weighted stares of the people on the bus, and Tung wasn’t here acting as a buffer.

“So my report card isn't all rainbows and A’s,” she argued, “but at least I bring some interest in this house.

She then let out another meow and purred as she arched her back, rubbing herself against my scratched up legs that were now beginning to itch something fierce. It was at that moment, after having just dawned on me, that I hoped that I hadn’t walked through poison ivy at some point.

whatever. He needed to be a big boy about it. And as far as going back—absolutely impossible. “It won’t happen, Sherry. He wants both of us dead.”

“Damn it!” she screamed as she threw around old junk, and boxes stored up in the attic. She could curse freely because no one could hear her up there so she made sure to belt it out big time. Plopping down on a few tattered boxes that read dad’s clothes, they gave way and she ended up hitting an old brown suitcase.