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(Be prepared, this is pretty long) 'Mary had a little lamb, little lamb...' God, he was such a sap. Reciting a kiddy's nursery rhyme in his head. Grow up.
A whoosh of memories flashed in my head. The summers I spent with him In the park on the beach I remember it all how could I forget. "Jake why aren't you back in Whitby with Chelsea.
I couldn't wait till tomorrow to try my dress, I grabbed Danny by the hand and ran to our room.
He sank into the sand, watching the stars and the moon emerge from the bellowing abyss that was the sky - shining mercenaries, claiming victory over the dying sun.
To start off with she's been begging me to dress up and go to this party she's hosting.
We were sailing I felt I was free, with the wind blowing through my hair and his arms around my waist, I felt safe. "It's beautiful" I said "Just wait until we get there" he replied.
This is written by James Franco (his talents are apparently endless). Palo Alto offers a snap shot of life as teenager. It's quite gritty and almost uncomfortable to read in places.
Sara ran, her chest had started to get painful from the lack of oxygen. Why did the boys at school have to be so cruel. What had she done to them.
Batch 20XX. I'm a graduating student. I fooled around with my boyfriend. Months later, I now carry a child. I'm a graduating student. I tried using drugs. Now, it turn to an addiction I can't let go.
Panic filled me, intensified by the storm. The wind broke, pausing enough for me to see what lied below. Blood was everywhere. Surrounding the entire base of the tree and smearing higher up the trunk.
chapter 1 hi my name is elle and I am 16. I'm not bragging but I live the life of a superstar because my mum is an actress.
"We shouldn't be here!" I tried to protest, yet my voice was swallowed by giggles. You just smiled, and tugged on my hand to help me through the gaping hole in the iron fence.
Before I start telling you about myself, I want to describe what sort of place I was born into. It'll help you understand. In the middle of the North Atlantic there is a cluster of 18 little islands.
By Daisy ------------------------------------------------------------------ It was may, one of the colder days in may, and as usual I had nothing to do.
Love is something I have never experienced before. There's nothing special about me, I'm that type of girl who's alone in the corner of a classroom drawing.
This story is the story of a young angel named Allen, he an average boy at the age of sixteen.
“Can I kiss you now?” She said it playfully but I knew there was more to it. The seconds seemed to stretch on as my brain went into overdrive. We were so close.
My story started when I was a kid, I've learn to believe in faith and learn to hope.
I grabbed the familar thick heavy branch that hung above my head. Hoisting myself up into my usual position, ready to watch the same usual thing... But it wasn't usual, well not to me.
I hadn't felt the same as I did as a child at 15 onwards. I had my first panic attack at 17. It was terrifying. I genuinely thought that's what happens to you when you die.
She was running from something, I couldn't quite see what, then I heard a scream, it was a Heponsythisss's scream.
Before the story, the title was what we had to write about, and had a limit of two pages, so not the best of endings... Sorry. This was for my fiction writing class, and thought I'd share...
So I posted this on my old account, and I just wanted it on my new one. It's a story I've been writing, that's semi autobiographical about my best friend who died of cancer a six months ago.
Books are very helpful. They improve your reading skills, spelling, grammar, vocabulary, writing skills, and a lot more. They serve as a pleasure sometimes and a source of knowledge, most of the time.