JessKatt.
Sitting in a dark room, at the topmost floor of her large house in Bedford, Connecticut, Bella sat, staring out the window as the sky, visible only through gaps in the huge oak trees, went from a bright blue, to a pink, and finally fading to a inky navy.
Unwilling to go downstairs and endure the silence of her huge, empty house, she remained there, barely blinking, watching the stars twinkle and wink at her. She ran her fingers though her honey brown hair, holding onto a couple pieces and twirled it around fore and middle fingers. Then, something soft intertwined itself around her ankles. She looked down and saw her jet black cat, Shakespeare, with his tail up in the air, rubbing his back on Bella’s leg.
Bella patted her lap, and the cat leapt up on it. After making himself comfortable with his head rested against her lower stomach, Bella scratched behind the cat’s ears. As she listened to the cat purr, still absentmindedly scratching him, her thoughts wondered off, and she stared out the window.
She was snapped back to reality when there was a crash and with a hiss, the cat jumped off Bella’s legs and scampered off. Caught off guard, this noise really frightened her. She jumped up, and walked quickly to the door, and slowly opened it.
“Hello?” she called, as her own voice echo off the walls of the upstairs rooms.
Bella walked out of the room, and down the wide hallway, peering into each room she passed. Then, she heard something that made her heart skip a beat.
Someone was crying in the room two doors ahead. Debating with herself whether or not to go and look, the crying grew louder, more hysterical.
Then, in another heart stopping second, the crying stopped. White faced, and wide-eyed, leaning on the wall for support, Bella’s heart was racing a million beats a minute. Suddenly, in the distances, she heard her cell phone ring tone.
She turned around and raced down the marble staircase, to the 2nd floor, turned a sharp right, and flung the door open to her room. And on the huge circular bed, padded with black and purple sheets, her phone was singing.
“Hello?” Bella said in an exasperated voice.
“Hi, Honey.” Her mother’s voice sounded irritated, and a little upset. “Look, me and your dad won’t be home tonight. For some reason, all flights home from here are delayed.”
Bella felt a pang of fear in the pit of her stomach.
“H-how long t-till you get home?” As she said these words, scared and upset, she heard her mother exhale in an annoyed way.
“I don’t know. Alright? Whenever these idiots at this airport decided that it’s fine to fly in clear weather, okay?!” said the mother, half yelling, in a forceful, irritated tone.
Bella forgot about her fear for a second, and was immediately angry with her mother for being so short with her when it was her, Bella, that was stuck in this house for 4 days straight, in the silence, while her parents were on a “business trip” in France.
“Whatever, mom, call me when you’re on your way home from your ‘business trip,’” she added extra emphasis and angry tone to these two words, “with Dad, and decided not to neglect your only daughter and actually be a mom for once.” She concluded, and shut her phone with a loud snap.
She threw her phone hard across the room, where it hit a wall covered in magazine cuttings , and fell to the floor with a thud. Bella flung herself around, and landed on her bed gently, with her face in the pillows. She let out a long scream, but it was muffled in the fabric of the black, furry pillow. She threw her head fiercely from side to side.
Finally, after a couple minutes of this, and her anger was almost drained, she flipped herself over on her bed. Her eyes traveled around her ceiling, then down the wall where her cell phone had hit, then darted to the door, where she saw it.
Almost, but not completely, transparent and a dark grey, like morning mist, drifting slowly past the half-open door, the ghostly figure floated down the hallway, staring blankly ahead, though Bella could have sworn she saw the head turn and look at her, for a fraction of a second.
Half petrified, half mesmerized, Bella got up from the bed, and walked like a sleepwalker to the door, pushed it open the rest of the way, and turned to face the hallway in full just as the figure’s long dark grey hair disappear into the room at the very end of the hallway, the library.
She walked a little more quickly past more rooms, the bathroom, the 2nd guest bedroom, a closet, holding that which Bella hadn’t a clue. Finally, she reached the door to the library, which stood totally open, revealing the ceiling-to-floor book shelves that were packed to capacity with books that varied from Fictional tales of Giants and Magic, to Dictionaries, to The Biography of Helen Keller. She looked around at the tables, which were completely empty, except for one book that lay closed on a chair.
Whether it took her seconds, or centuries to reach that book, she didn’t know. She was focused on it, though her mind was soaring with questions and suspicions.
What book is it?
Should I touch it?
Did that… that thing leave it?
She was standing over it, looking down on it, scared. Then, she put her hand out, and brushed the tip of her figures against its blank, leather cover, that bore no title. When nothing happened, she picked it up. It was very heavy, so she set it down on the table. Sitting in the now bookless chair, she carefully flicked through the pages.
Blank… Completely blank…thought Bella.
What made her keep flicking through the pages, she didn’t know, but she continued. She’d looked through half of the book before she saw a page that had writing on it. Having only glanced at it, she accidentally passed it. Slowly, she turned back the pages until she found the single page that had writing.
Fear not, for you dwell in the house where I once lived a life worse than your’s.
I plead for you to understand that it is I who you heard sobbing in the upstairs room,
Having been mine, I spend many days in that rooms, doing just as you were today.
Starring out the window, wishing for something new, something different than today,
So, I am here to give you something different, a chance at what you want most dearly,
Leave now, pack and flee, and never look back, for you will find nothing but despair here.
Flee, and never look back.
And with that, the letter burst into cold flames, leaving Bella stunned, but not scared.
Flee and never look back, it said, never look back. And so she did, never looking back.
Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Thursday, July 19, 2007
The new girl
The new girl
By Brianne
So shy and quiet
Not a word to say
Just sat in her seat
The whole day
Didn’t say a word
Till she met me
Then she talked
“finally” I thought.
So loud she was,
But oh so nice
The new girl
She was called
The new girl.
By Brianne
So shy and quiet
Not a word to say
Just sat in her seat
The whole day
Didn’t say a word
Till she met me
Then she talked
“finally” I thought.
So loud she was,
But oh so nice
The new girl
She was called
The new girl.
Apologies
I haven't written anything this week. I am not good at being a CWP Young Writer. I am morally inferior to the door side of the room. :(
(shout out to the girl in the front row who talks a lot, and whose name might be Veronika with a K)
(shout out to the girl in the front row who talks a lot, and whose name might be Veronika with a K)
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
A Beginning
The night was chilly for June, and bathed in silver mist that drifted inland from the harbor. Men that worked the wharves huddled in close groups for warmth, whispering about the still air and thickening clouds. In the pubs, crowded with roughly clad seafarers, there was little of the usual scurrilous chatter. There was something in the saline breath of the breeze, hovering and indistinct, that weighed heavily on the mind of every sailor worth half his salt.
In the gloom of The Serpent’s Tongue, a bar infamous for its shifty customers, a man smoked lazily in a corner, reclining in an ancient driftwood rocker and wrapped in shadow. The gleam of the embers from his long clay pipe illuminated his eyes, the gray-green of windy waves. Scraggly amber hair and beard concealed the remainder of his sun-browned face, and his raiment was worn, though neatly kept. The man spoke to none of the few fellow sailors in the bar, but watched, eyes flickering in the pipe-light, expectantly, as if waiting for something to happen.
A gust of briny air gasped into the bar as the door slammed open and shut quickly. A figure in a blue-black cloak made its way to the corner where the man sat in a cloud of his own grey smoke, keeping its head hooded and obscure. Only when it reached the man, who dragged a chair out of the smoke and gestured to it silently, did the figure uncover its face.
There sat a woman of uncommon beauty, with black hair curling in the humidity and cheeks rosy with exertion. She carried her head proudly upon an elegant white neck, and the necklace at her throat bore a gleaming jewel of no small value. Her hands were small and soft, like pale spiders, and her nails had been carefully polished. She looked entirely out of place in the bar, amidst the smoke and shadows, but her face was visible for only a moment, before any but the gentleman with which she had business had seen her.
“What news?” spoke the man, with a leer that might have been an attempt at a smile.
“She’s escaped, Truske. Sometime in the night. We…we can’t find her.”
“Ah.”
Truske and the woman sat in silence for some minutes, each brooding on fate and fortune, each hungrily curious for the thoughts of the other. Finally the woman broke the quiet.
“Aren’t you angry with them?” she asked. “Aren’t you going to punish them?”
Truske raised his eyebrows. “What would that accomplish? She is gone, and me raging and storming won’t do a bit of good. Besides, I’ve been expecting this.”
The woman nodded.
“Do you sail again?” she asked, her voice impassive.
“Yes, within the week. To the Islands. What of it?”
“Nothing. I merely thought you might...”
“Might what? Search for her? You know as well as I that any search we could commence would end fruitlessly. She will come back in her own time.”
“Aye, I suppose.”
Truske noted the low disappointment in his companion’s voice, but ignored it. He hadn’t time to chase escaped prisoners all over the land. There was much to be done before his voyage.
“You ought to be getting back, before this storm breaks,” said Truske, nodding at the door. “It isn’t safe here for –”
He broke off. The woman knew for whom the wharves were and were not safe. With the slightest bow of the head, she stood and departed. The door banged shut behind her.
Evening dragged on into night. The air reached a new level of suffocation, and heat lightning danced along the sky, veining the clouds with icy blue. Truske remained in the chair, smoking the last of his tobacco, observing the rumble of the waves from the filthy window, his mind on the prisoner. He did not know what fate had in store for her, though he thought he could guess. He believed that she did not know herself. She would not know until Truske returned to find her, and who could ever know when that would be?
In the gloom of The Serpent’s Tongue, a bar infamous for its shifty customers, a man smoked lazily in a corner, reclining in an ancient driftwood rocker and wrapped in shadow. The gleam of the embers from his long clay pipe illuminated his eyes, the gray-green of windy waves. Scraggly amber hair and beard concealed the remainder of his sun-browned face, and his raiment was worn, though neatly kept. The man spoke to none of the few fellow sailors in the bar, but watched, eyes flickering in the pipe-light, expectantly, as if waiting for something to happen.
A gust of briny air gasped into the bar as the door slammed open and shut quickly. A figure in a blue-black cloak made its way to the corner where the man sat in a cloud of his own grey smoke, keeping its head hooded and obscure. Only when it reached the man, who dragged a chair out of the smoke and gestured to it silently, did the figure uncover its face.
There sat a woman of uncommon beauty, with black hair curling in the humidity and cheeks rosy with exertion. She carried her head proudly upon an elegant white neck, and the necklace at her throat bore a gleaming jewel of no small value. Her hands were small and soft, like pale spiders, and her nails had been carefully polished. She looked entirely out of place in the bar, amidst the smoke and shadows, but her face was visible for only a moment, before any but the gentleman with which she had business had seen her.
“What news?” spoke the man, with a leer that might have been an attempt at a smile.
“She’s escaped, Truske. Sometime in the night. We…we can’t find her.”
“Ah.”
Truske and the woman sat in silence for some minutes, each brooding on fate and fortune, each hungrily curious for the thoughts of the other. Finally the woman broke the quiet.
“Aren’t you angry with them?” she asked. “Aren’t you going to punish them?”
Truske raised his eyebrows. “What would that accomplish? She is gone, and me raging and storming won’t do a bit of good. Besides, I’ve been expecting this.”
The woman nodded.
“Do you sail again?” she asked, her voice impassive.
“Yes, within the week. To the Islands. What of it?”
“Nothing. I merely thought you might...”
“Might what? Search for her? You know as well as I that any search we could commence would end fruitlessly. She will come back in her own time.”
“Aye, I suppose.”
Truske noted the low disappointment in his companion’s voice, but ignored it. He hadn’t time to chase escaped prisoners all over the land. There was much to be done before his voyage.
“You ought to be getting back, before this storm breaks,” said Truske, nodding at the door. “It isn’t safe here for –”
He broke off. The woman knew for whom the wharves were and were not safe. With the slightest bow of the head, she stood and departed. The door banged shut behind her.
Evening dragged on into night. The air reached a new level of suffocation, and heat lightning danced along the sky, veining the clouds with icy blue. Truske remained in the chair, smoking the last of his tobacco, observing the rumble of the waves from the filthy window, his mind on the prisoner. He did not know what fate had in store for her, though he thought he could guess. He believed that she did not know herself. She would not know until Truske returned to find her, and who could ever know when that would be?
PSHA YEAH!!!! by Ashley
I hear her stomping up the stairs. She slides the plastic white sliding door open. She stands over me as tall as a skyscraper.
“Sammy, your still hear I woke you up already.”
“I’m sorry I fell back to sleep.”
“Did you hear me Samantha, wake up!”
“Alright I heard you already, GOD!” Why does she have to scream all the time? Why can’t she just wake me up like a normal person? It’s six O’ clock I have to start getting ready for school don’t want to be late my first day.
By the way I’m Samantha every one calls me Sammy. I’m thirteen and turning fourteen in August. Me and my family which consist of my mother, older sister who is eighteen, and my brother who is seven teen, have recently moved to Bronx, NY. Today I have the wonderful task of locating my new school, we don’t have a car.
So I’m heading outside and already I’m feeling lost and I stair at the map my mom wrote on a napkin, I would say its one of her finest pieces of art. So I start heading in the directions that the map is telling me to go and I make a wrong turn I’m pretty much certain that I’m going to be late. I manage to get my self back on track and I finally see the school. To tell you the truth it looks more like jail there’s bars on the windows and chained fences. I feel sick to my stomach any way I go ahead and walk through the doors. Inside a lady tells me to walk trough the metal detector of course I set it off. Must be my metal belt any way, she lets me pass and I head off to class.
I arrive just in time for homeroom I look around and all the students are wild and screaming. The bell rings and everyone is in their seat and staring at me. The announcements come on and talk about school events. The teacher walks up to me when the announcements finish. She’s standing there looking down at me.
“Hi I’m Mrs. Clever what’s your name?” She’s annoying me with her over sized cool aid smile. “Sammy” I reply.
“Nice to meet you welcome to my class I’ll not only be your home teacher but I’ll be your L.A. teacher as well.” She hands me my schedule and heads back to her desk. Then Mrs. Clever speaks, “Class we have a new student, please introduce yourself.” I look around nervously.
“Hi, I’m Sammy I’m thirteen and I’m from Montgomery, NY.”
Mrs. Clever looks at me and say “Thank you, you may be seated.” As Mrs. Clever keeps talking I look around and I can tell I don’t fit in. The way I look and dress is totally opposite from them and it really shows. Maybe it’s my black hair and nails or my skinny jeans and Queen Shirt. All the guys seem to like their clothes ten times bigger then their normal size. The girls like their clothes so tight it looks like they can’t breathe. Anyway I don’t fit in but that’s fine. I’m a pro at being an outsider, just call me pony boy. After leaving home room I look at my schedule and the next class I had was math so I started walking down the hallway. I was counting the doors looking for the room number and all of a sudden I feel my leg get caught and I fall flat on my hands. Then I hear voices laughing I pick up my things and keep moving. I see the girl tripped me a look of satisfaction on her face. It’s great when someone trips you on the first day. I find my class and sit down the teacher announces that there’s a new student and continues with the daily lesson. I look around and see the normal guys in the baggy clothes but notice that the guy sitting next to me isn’t wearing baggy clothes. He has really pale skin and dark hair he’s wearing a simple black shirt and jeans that are his size. I look at his face; he’s wear eyeliner and black nail polish.
"BLONDES,BRUNETTES, REDHEADS, MORE LIKE DREDHEADS OH MY GOD CHAYEAH DUDE!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
By Ashley, but I did posted it for her.
“Sammy, your still hear I woke you up already.”
“I’m sorry I fell back to sleep.”
“Did you hear me Samantha, wake up!”
“Alright I heard you already, GOD!” Why does she have to scream all the time? Why can’t she just wake me up like a normal person? It’s six O’ clock I have to start getting ready for school don’t want to be late my first day.
By the way I’m Samantha every one calls me Sammy. I’m thirteen and turning fourteen in August. Me and my family which consist of my mother, older sister who is eighteen, and my brother who is seven teen, have recently moved to Bronx, NY. Today I have the wonderful task of locating my new school, we don’t have a car.
So I’m heading outside and already I’m feeling lost and I stair at the map my mom wrote on a napkin, I would say its one of her finest pieces of art. So I start heading in the directions that the map is telling me to go and I make a wrong turn I’m pretty much certain that I’m going to be late. I manage to get my self back on track and I finally see the school. To tell you the truth it looks more like jail there’s bars on the windows and chained fences. I feel sick to my stomach any way I go ahead and walk through the doors. Inside a lady tells me to walk trough the metal detector of course I set it off. Must be my metal belt any way, she lets me pass and I head off to class.
I arrive just in time for homeroom I look around and all the students are wild and screaming. The bell rings and everyone is in their seat and staring at me. The announcements come on and talk about school events. The teacher walks up to me when the announcements finish. She’s standing there looking down at me.
“Hi I’m Mrs. Clever what’s your name?” She’s annoying me with her over sized cool aid smile. “Sammy” I reply.
“Nice to meet you welcome to my class I’ll not only be your home teacher but I’ll be your L.A. teacher as well.” She hands me my schedule and heads back to her desk. Then Mrs. Clever speaks, “Class we have a new student, please introduce yourself.” I look around nervously.
“Hi, I’m Sammy I’m thirteen and I’m from Montgomery, NY.”
Mrs. Clever looks at me and say “Thank you, you may be seated.” As Mrs. Clever keeps talking I look around and I can tell I don’t fit in. The way I look and dress is totally opposite from them and it really shows. Maybe it’s my black hair and nails or my skinny jeans and Queen Shirt. All the guys seem to like their clothes ten times bigger then their normal size. The girls like their clothes so tight it looks like they can’t breathe. Anyway I don’t fit in but that’s fine. I’m a pro at being an outsider, just call me pony boy. After leaving home room I look at my schedule and the next class I had was math so I started walking down the hallway. I was counting the doors looking for the room number and all of a sudden I feel my leg get caught and I fall flat on my hands. Then I hear voices laughing I pick up my things and keep moving. I see the girl tripped me a look of satisfaction on her face. It’s great when someone trips you on the first day. I find my class and sit down the teacher announces that there’s a new student and continues with the daily lesson. I look around and see the normal guys in the baggy clothes but notice that the guy sitting next to me isn’t wearing baggy clothes. He has really pale skin and dark hair he’s wearing a simple black shirt and jeans that are his size. I look at his face; he’s wear eyeliner and black nail polish.
"BLONDES,BRUNETTES, REDHEADS, MORE LIKE DREDHEADS OH MY GOD CHAYEAH DUDE!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
By Ashley, but I did posted it for her.
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