I'm Issy.
I'm 14 and an aspiring artist and author.
Black Lives matter.
Bi puns
Murder mystery TV shows
Shakespeare poetry
I can't even be bothered writing them all down
Have a nice day

Message from Writer

Remember to write even if you think you are bad at it, you're not

writing streak week 10 day 1

May 31, 2020

As we walk along skeleton creek, gravel crunching under our feet, the rhythm is steady. Pukekos pick their way across the barren grass, like peculiar stilt walkers, on their long, spindly legs. The reeds sway and turn, excitedly rustling, uneasy and restless in the fading light. They are so tall, we are dwarfed next to their flaxen stalks. The sounds of nature surround us, the rustling of leaves, the chirping of something that we cannot quite tell if it is a frog, or a cricket. Mostly the world is quiet at this time, as the sun dips over the horizon, leaving a blood-coloured wash over the pale gray sky. It is light enough to see, but just dark enough that your vision is impaired, and everything is hazy. The air has a crisp autumn touch, leaving the tip of your nose just colder than it was when we left the house. We cannot see the water past the tall reeds, but we know it is there; forever flowing, ready to flood at the slightest hint of heavy rain.  
This is a tale about an actual creek called Skeleton Creek near my house. We had been walking on the golf-course for quite a while but it opened back up and now we are not aloud on it, so, we started walking round the creek everyday instead. 
This pieces name is along the creek.


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  • May 31, 2020 - 8:30pm (Now Viewing)

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1 Comment
  • and_the_stars_laughed

    Wow, your description is incredible -- I felt as if I was there!! Awesome job!! :)

    11 months ago