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Untitled Children's StoryThe road was going smoothly as the family's car was getting closer and closer to finally arriving back home after a week at the beach. I was sitting in the back along with everything else the Riordan family brought along with them. I was sitting in the back on a pile of sleeping folding chairs when I heard a click come from the back door. I turned around slowly, wondering if it was that the buckets were fighting to resurface from the bottom of the pit of, what humans call, inanimate objects.Untitled Children's Story
Which brings me to an off-subject point; we're not inanimate. We have feelings, just like all animals, and we were made with love by giant m
by ~DiamondHollister
From Ashes We Rise Chapt. 1.CHAPTER ONE.From Ashes We Rise Chapt. 1
I sat, staring at the beat up, old blackboard full of equations. Our professor continued writing with his pathetic white rock he found a few feet away, babbling on and on about things that we honestly didn’t need to know about right now. Around me, the only nine other students sat on the dirt as well. Sad faces gazed forward empty mindedly. I got smacked in the face with a crusty leaf fallen from a sick tree next to us. I grabbed it, tearing it into pieces. The stem fell off, dropping into the dirt. I picked it up, the stem leaving a small mark. I wrote my name in the dirt and decorated it with ran
by ~DiamondHollister
.Preface.I peeked through my father’s arms, watching the soldiers shoot their weapons of terror, dark black bullets rocketing towards the enemy. Hundreds of dead bodies with camouflage suites lay still on the ground, the icy wind turning their rotting flesh blue. My mom embraced my younger brother, his crying almost as loud as the sounds of the guns killing another being. Houses were burning in the distance, the wildfire getting nearer and nearer. “Laura, pick up Bret and run out of the house! It’s going to catch fire soon!” Dad shouted, holding my hand tightly. His head had beads of sweat dotted randomly, and his eyes.Preface.
by ~DiamondHollister
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- Nov 22, 2009 Journal Skins for everyone?
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A rice ball simply doesn't belong in a fruits basket...
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All singers can be writers, but all writers can't be singers.
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Outside day starts to dawn
(Your moon still floats on high)
The birds awake
(The stars shine too)
My hands still shake
(I reach for you)
And we meet in the sky
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All singers can be writers, but all writers can't be singers.
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All singers can be writers, but all writers can't be singers.
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All singers can be writers, but all writers can't be singers.
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All singers can be writers, but all writers can't be singers.
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