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Suri Purefoy

United States

Hey there! I love writing, reading, watching movies, smelling rain, cooking, babysitting, watching leaves turn colors in autumn, laughing, and hanging out with friends and family.
Have a great day, and keep writing!

Message from Writer

Any feedback, comments, notes, or corrections are warmly welcomed and will be greeted with a big smile and an appreciative hug.

Suri

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Suri Purefoy (United States) reviewed:

Mouse

FREE WRITING

Such a tender, sweet poem filled with the wonder and adventurous life a mouse lives.
Gorgeous words, and graceful lines! Fantastic job! I hope to read more of your writing soon!

3 months ago

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Fall

Suri Purefoy (United States) started following Life's Been Good (United States)

3 months ago

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Suri Purefoy (United States) liked Mouse by Life's Been Good (United States)

3 months ago

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Suri Purefoy (United States) published:

You'll Be Alright

FREE WRITING

Something was leaking from the walls, like tears sobbing from one's face. The gray fumes curled from the wall's creases like snakes quietly slithering from their nests. Maelee was panicking, her shoes clopping like a stampeding horse against the mossy cobblestone. She was talking, but Bruce didn't hear her. He watched the gray smoke, watched it writhe like a palpitating moth. His eyes were wide, his heart fluttering.
"Maelee," He whispered sheepishly. "Calm down."
"No-no-no-no-no-no! This can't be happeni-I didn't say bye to...

Seeking Peer Reviews

3 months ago

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Suri Purefoy (United States) reviewed:

The Man You Didn't Help

FREE WRITING

Thank you so much for writing " The Man You Didn't Help"! I hope others will read this and ponder its gorgeous truth.
You are a very talented writer and I hope to read more of your work!

Suri

3 months ago

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Suri Purefoy (United States) reviewed:

Flute

FREE WRITING

Flowing words, wonderful stanzas, a beautiful poem!
Amazing job, Vani! Keep up the fantastic work!

3 months ago

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Suri Purefoy (United States) reviewed:

Monday Blues

FREE WRITING

Beautiful! Detailed in delicate verbs and intricate adjectives, full of wonderful words, and loaded with a creative and colorful idea. I really loved your piece, Caitlyn! Your unique amazing-ness in your writing stuns me every time. I really enjoyed how...

3 months ago

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Suri Purefoy (United States) reviewed:

The Mountain of Dreams

FREE WRITING

Truly beautiful! You a very talented writer that I hope to continue reading from. Keep going—never give up!

3 months ago

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Suri Purefoy (United States) liked Rain Race by Riley Asher-Stalbaum (United States)

4 months ago

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Suri Purefoy (United States) published:

A Book's Life

PROMPT: Becoming Human

Spine
Sturdy and strong
Bending not, only creasing

Face
Colored and drawn
A continuing work of art

Bod
Feeble and thin
Bears emotion, creates tears

It shares its talent
It lives its life
Until the day comes
When it crumbles
And only exists
In the hearts
Of the ones it touched

 

Seeking Peer Reviews

4 months ago

Published Work

You'll Be Alright

Something was leaking from the walls, like tears sobbing from one's face. The gray fumes curled from the wall's creases like snakes quietly slithering from their nests. Maelee was panicking, her shoes clopping like a stampeding horse against the mossy cobblestone. She was talking, but Bruce didn't hear her. He watched the gray smoke, watched it writhe like a palpitating moth. His eyes were wide, his heart fluttering.
"Maelee," He whispered sheepishly. "Calm down."
"No-no-no-no-no-no! This can't be happeni-I didn't say bye to mom this morning, I-"
"Mae!" She stopped, her feet finally quiet. Bruce took a shallow breath. "It's OK. We'll make it out. I promise."
Maelee shook her head in despair. "No-no we won't. It's useless. There's no way out!"
Bruce stared at her, his lungs rasping from the acid that was poisoning him. "Get up on my back," He said calmly, bending down near one of the walls. "I'll boost you up."
"It's not goi-"
"It'll work. Just get on." He...

Becoming Human

A Book's Life

Spine
Sturdy and strong
Bending not, only creasing

Face
Colored and drawn
A continuing work of art

Bod
Feeble and thin
Bears emotion, creates tears

It shares its talent
It lives its life
Until the day comes
When it crumbles
And only exists
In the hearts
Of the ones it touched

 

One Sentence Story

Beacon

Puckered lips and red blossoms, raven-black hair twirling in the wind, the girl stood against the black sky like a beacon in the mist.

A Shiny Little Acorn

Sammi’s little hand was clasped firmly in her mother’s. Her fingers tingled from the excitement that her little body resonated. Her shoes clipped the silent hospital air as she skipped sloppily alongside her mother.  
With a bit of scrambling, Sammi heaved her body up onto the chair, and, to her slight surprise, her mother sat next to her. Moments of silence passed through the empty building, until her mother spoke;
“Sammi, I’m going to stay a little longer today. Daddy’s going to pick you up when he gets off work, okay? Just stay here so he’ll know where to find you, alright?”
Sammi nodded. “Okay, mommy.”
A creaking door sounded. Gentle lips caressed Sammi’s forehead as her mother waved farewell. The man in the long, white coat was there, guiding her to the third room on the left. As usual.
But not as usual, Sammi didn’t hop out of the chair and run to her room. Instead, she sat...

Andy

"What'd we do now?" Bev gasped between shallow breathes. The room before them was almost empty. A small bed and a beaten rope dangled from the ceiling. That was it. Nowhere to hide, nowhere to go.
    Tears filled her eyes. "Andy," She urged, looking at her older brother.  
    His eyes darted across the room, searching for anything. He ran forward feeling the walls frantically. "Help me!" She shouted at her. 
    Moments that felt like hours passed. "I don't see anything." Bev was in hysterics now. What if they couldn't get out? 
    "Here!" There was a soft scraping sound as Andy tore at the stale wallpaper. A small door was revealed. 
    "What is it?"
    "A dumbwaiter-"
    Voices echoed from the halls they had come from. 
    "Hurry, get in! I'll pull you up." 
    Bev clambered feverishly into the little compartment. She barely fit.  ...

Living People

LaCrone

Boston, New York
11:42 a.m.
November 23 2006


I'm not going to share this with anyone but myself. Alright?
Fine. Just promise, and no side questions. 
Let's get started. 

(I sit in a big cushy chair, directly across from my patron. I note the way her hair is purposefully styled; she wants to hide her eyes. The baseball cap that sits tightly over her brown hair saggs and is full of wrinkles and odd bulches. Her jeans are raggedy and baggy. Shirt: a XL women's that is three sizes too large for her, and she has tied it at the bottom, creating a wrinkled look. 
I take a breath and gaze down at my notepad.)

What is something no one knows about you?

(She stares at me in silence. I know she's hesitant, who wouldn't be?)

I have a brother.
What makes you nervous?
People asking quesitons about me. 

(She smirks a little.)

What's your favorite time of day?
Time...

Stand Tall

Thistles and needles
and small,
tiny thorns
stick in
stray fingers,
sounding horns

Gnashing their teeth
and scraping
their bones
The demons spit,
casting
deadly stones

Crushing our stories,
hopes
and dreams
Trampling beauty
and all
that gleams

Though through
the ruins
and raging red flames,
a hope clears the smoke
calling
our names

We must face
that
grand call,
arise
and stand tall

Share your stories!
Write
your world!
Let your gift
be
unfurled

Flash Fiction Competition

The Forbidden Kiss

What if something happened... Ralhi fretted, biting her nails.
Suddenly he was there.
His straight, black-as-night, golden-tipped hair fell over his lean shoulders, his cloak flapping behind him.The twilight rays shone on his blue-tinted skin. 
In but a moment's time they found themselves in one another's arms.His long fingers stroked her hair, untangling the tight knots.
"Durlön..." Sobs shook her shoulders.
"Shh. It's alright. We're together now."  
He lifted her chin and their lips met.
They parted for a moment, then he wiped a tear from her cheek and gave her one last kiss. 
Then he was gone.

10 Second Essays

A Little Thing Called Love

Breath is love, without it we suffocate.


Hand-in-hand we twirled, wishing the moment would never end. 


Though through pain and tears, you were worth the wait.

Crimson Petals

In the light of the twilight moon, It sniffed the air, searching for the scent he had been following for so long now. There was the wind that smelled of pine trees and the lake that steadily lapsed a few yards away. Bushes of sagebrush and flowers drifted up to his nostrils. A small furry creature burrowing into the grou-
Ah, there it was. It could smell the sweet smell of the commoner. The makeup she had applied that morning. The plant-whipped scent of her clothes. And the scent of the blade that had sliced through that hair. 
It stood on his haunches, letting his nose guide him to his subject. 

She was up in the tree. Her face pressed up against the cool stone bark, her shoulders slumped with exhaustion, and her legs dangling from the tree limb's surface, she sat there. Her head throbbed with clear, cutting-stone pain that havened around her forehead and into her eyes, but also...

Crimson Petals

She was up in the tree. Her face pressed up against the cool stone bark, her shoulders slumped with exhaustion, and her legs dangling from the tree limb's surface, the girl sat there. Her head throbbed with clear, cutting-stone pain that havened around her forehead and into her eyes, but also reached down into the muscles of her spine and shoulders. Everything hurt.
The girl closed her red eyes, hoping to find some sort of release from the pain that so easily had visited her. But she was afraid that it was making its stay permanent. 
The girl, looking to be about thirteen years of age, had short, ear-length black and gray-twisted hair tucked beneath a deep blue hood. The fabric, smooth as it was, looked to be shimmering like rushing water against the wind and moon-lit sky. Small, delicate patterns depicting letters of a strange language and plants of nature embroidered the robe in the blackest of dark thread. 
A...

Mysteries Abound

Poverty-Stricken

We don't know how we can, in this time of so much abundant money and food, have more poor and hungry than ever.
We don't know why we can't resolve it.
We don't know when it will end, if it ever will.
And we certainly haven't agreed on what the answer is.

A Fiery Fear

The hearth yawned a large yawn, spouting great flames. The white and blue tongues flicked about their keeper’s jaws, thrashing for freedom, for play and for cool. It yearned to be white, to be chilly and cold. It thought its frames a disgrace, its color an ugly thing.
    As the pretty white flakes, delicate and sparkling, fell from the heavens, sprinkling upon the ground like sugar on a cookie, the fire longed to be like the snow. To be something that everyone talked about gleefully. Something that the children hoped for all season, that they played in, and loved.
No one ever said anything good about the fire. “Be careful—it will burn you!”, “It’s awfully hot,” and other things like that. While to the snow they said with joy, “Oh, how beautiful!”, “Lovely!” and all those wonderful comments.
Parents never let the children get close to the fire. “Don’t touch that!” They would yell with fear, grabbing the child...

Open Prompt

Mirror

The blanket was as soft as silk and fluffy as clouds. The smooth fabric rubbed against her cheek. JuRay grasped a handful of the cloth in her fists, squeezed, then rolled over onto her side. 
She opened her eyes, creating little slits on her face. The room was a dull color, mainly from the window being draped over with a torn cloth. One patch of sunlight, bright and a strange shape, shined through the drape, lighting a spot on her bed. 
Ju sat up, blinking the morning spots out of her dazed eyes. 
The floorboards creaked as she stumbled out of the covers, across her cluttered bedroom floor, and down the hallway towards the bathroom.
It was empty. Thankfully, that most likely meant that Drudge had already left for work. 
It was there as usual; the mirror. It gazed down at her with haughty displeasure, taunting her to look up. Ju knew the game far too well, so she kept...

Flashlight

A Beautiful Thing

Chocolate melting in your mouth
and splashing in puddles on rainy days.
Oh yes, life is a gorgeous thing.

The grasp of a babe’s delicate fingers
and a cool breeze on a hot summer’s day.
Oh yes, life is a meaningful thing.

A positive comment on your life’s work
and the encouraging hug of a friend.
Oh yes, life is a happy thing.

The kiss of a child’s soft, small lips
and the comfort of home.
Oh yes, life is a miraculous thing.

The stress and worry of finance
and unemployment issues.
Oh yes, life is a difficult thing.

The burden of death
and the loss of everything.
Oh yes, life is a terrible thing.

But as the sun rises every morning
and breezes shift your hair

As snow falls from the heavens
and crops continue on

A new hope takes its first breath
and you realize

Life is hard
but it’s worth it.

All Talk

Happy Tears

"'You know what's happening when it rains?"
"Um, it's raining?"
"Well, yeah. What what's really happening. Do you know?"
"Enlighten me, oh wise one!"
"Nope. You first."
"Fine. When it's raining water is falling from the sky." 
"OK."
"Now you."
"I think every raindrop is a single tear, shed by an angel."
"..."
"And they're all happy tears, because the angels are welcoming someone back home."
 

Life in a Nutshell

It’s a joyful stage
It’s a dreadful cage
It’s a blank page
And a solemn gage

A terrible curse
An empty universe

It’s a wonderful time
It’s a shameless crime
It’s a high climb
But a sublime lifetime

A glorious kiss
A wistful wish

It’s a happy trance
It’s a gleeful dance
It’s a chance
It only takes a second glance

Flashlight

A Beautiful Thing

Chocolate melting in your mouth
and splashing in puddles on rainy days.
Oh yes, life is a marvelous thing.

The grasp of a babe’s delicate fingers
and a cool breeze on a hot summer’s day.
Oh yes, life is a wonderful thing.

A positive comment on your life’s work
and the encouraging hug of a friend.
Oh yes, life is a happy thing.

The kiss of a child’s soft, small lips
and the comfort of home.
Oh yes, life is a miraculous thing.

The stress and worry of finance
and unemployment issues.
Oh yes, life is a difficult thing.

The burden of death
and the loss of everything.
Oh yes, life is a hard thing.

But as the sun rises every morning
and breezes shift your hair

As snow falls from the heavens
and crops continue on

A new hope takes its first breath
and you realize

Life is hard
but it’s worth it.

White Waves

Steady, lapsing blue and foamy white waves crash up against the rocky shoreline. The rocks stand tall and firm, jutting out of the barely visible sand. Black and dark brown water stains stand on the rocks' sides where the ocean waves have slapped against it, splashing up onto the rocks. The blue water calms, slowly moving like a current of soldiers marching to war. The weapons rise, the soldiers run, smashing into their enemy. The waves create a loud splash as they collide with the rocks' sides. 
The salty water stings my nostrils, making them flare slightly at the sudden smell and reaction. A small smile spreads across my face as I watch the water from where I stand on one of the  higher rocks. The high-tide approaches, splashing foamy water onto my flip-flops and toes. I look up from the water and gaze into the artwork in front of me. 
The sun is setting, lowering itself behind the ocean...

Angel Hair

The baby, her hair so light, as if every single strand of the thousands was a star shining against the blackest of night. The short strands, how they curled, and straightened, and bounced in such an odd yet glorious way. How in the back, all the hair seemed to be like an ocean wave, rolling and with a chaotic sort of harmony, and how the cowlick was like a coiled-up river snake with vibrant coils of soft. It was as if the brush was combing through fluffy clouds— it wass as if there was almost nothing there at all.
It was like brushing an angel’s hair.

My December

My Winter Wonderland

December
it takes your breath away
With chilled bubbles of air
that escape your pink lips
and frosted tips of green grass

I love the glittering
balls of light
in the early darkness of night
and the holiday decorations
that make you look upon

December
it makes you stop and think
About the things you 
should be doing
and who you should be with

I love the Christmas parties
and the caroling at my door
with the brightened spirits
and the gift giving
and the wrapping presents

December
it spreads a smile on your face
With everyone smiling too
and hot chocolate
and candy canes

I love the swelling
of my heart
as I give a gift 
or recieve one
and all the shopping and crafts

December
it's beautiful
with the family,
friends,
and trees

I love the music 
in the air
and the snow flakes
falling
from the sky

December
it makes your heart flutter
Snowmen and snow angels ...

A Signature Capability

One Night's Notice

He flourished on a signature capability, spinning his vast intelligence around the twisted lines of complicated and intricate designs: the, to all but him, "puzzling" fabric of life. Agha knew the secrets of this smooth material, he knew all the little tweaks of life that interlocked themselves in schemes unfathomable to the average mind, and he was doing it: he was changing, altering the pattern of life, little by little and bit by bit. But today was the day of bigger change.
Today Agha Brar would create something completely new to the world.

The laboratory got extremely dark at night. Half the lights in the tall city would turn off, casting an eerie glow of what electrical appliances were left on in the late hours of twilight. Or so people thought the laboratory did. Only Agha and immediate family had ever been down there in that lonely abyss. It was actually very bright, with every single light in the place...

Novel Writing Competition - Nov '16

Carson, Stanley

Sammi was bored. Bored out of her mind.
    The clock tick-tocked loudly, vibrating in her ears. Its flat, musty plastic face frowned, the hour hand pointing one tick mark past the fourth big one, the minute hand stretching to the seventh large, faded coal mark. The cheap, white paper behind seemed wrinkled and leathery where the hands stretched outward, as if they were forcing that frown, making the sad expression painful.
    Sammi kept staring, turning her little head this way and that, her chin resting in her soft palm. She’d been trying to cheer that face up, make him smile, maybe even giggle. But twenty minutes had gone by without one crack of a grin from that gloomy face. The longer black arrow had just ticked slowly by, seeming to torture his face even more so.
   But now her large adventurous mind capacity was craving for something other than trying to make a clock smile. Though the question unanswerede now...

Living People

LaCrone

Boston, New York
11:42 a.m.
November 23 2006


I'm not going to share this with anyone but myself. Alright?
Fine. Just promise, and no side questions. 
Let's get started. 

(I sit in a big coushy chair, directly across from my parton. I note the way her hair is purposefully styled; she wants to hide her eyes. The baseball cap that sits tightly over her brown hair saggs and is full of wrinkles and odd bulches. Her jeans are raggedy and baggy. Shirt: a XL women's that is three sizes too large for her, and she has tied it at the bottom, creating a wrinkled look. 
I take a breath and gaze down at my notepad.)

What is something no one knows about you?

(She stares at me in silence. I know she's hesitant, who wouldn't be?)

I have a brother.
What makes you nervous?
People asking quesitons about me. 

(She smirks a little.)

What's your favorite time of day?
Time...

Novel Writing Competition - Nov '16

Carson, Stanley

Sammi was bored. Bored out of her skull.
    The clock tick-tocked loudly, vibrating in her ears. Its flat musty plastic face frowned, the hour hand pointing one tick mark past the fourth big one, the minute hand stretching to the seventh large faded coal mark. The cheap white paper behind seemed wrinkled and leathery where the hands stretched outward, as if they were forcing that frown, making the sad expression painful.
    Sammi stared at the clock’s face,  turning her little head this way and that, her chin resting in her soft palm. She’d been trying to cheer that face up, make him smile, maybe even giggle. But twenty minutes had gone by without one crack of a grin from that gloomy face. The longer black arrow had just ticked slowly by, seeming to torture his face even more so.
    She’d finally gotten bored, her large adventurous mind capacity craving for something other than trying to make a clock smile, but...

Birdcage and Buoy

Red

Big billowing clouds of a dark gray mass rumbled and grumbled from their perch above, belching the frozen liquid pulps down upon the humans below. The ice chunks bounced and clunked, shattered and pmmmmhed. All the city people cowered and ran for cover, trying to protect themselves and their surrounding peoples from the ice storm. It was a chaotic frenzy of sloshing hurried foot-steps and little shrieks from bystanders.
    But among that chaos, there stood a young girl. Her hair was plastered onto her face from the wet, and little red and pink bumps were forming on her skin, like small blisters. Her expression was perplexed with her brows risen high up on her forehead, mouth parted in astonishment, and eyes wide with something awfully similar to love. Even as the haled ice broke down onto the poor girl, she stood amazingly still, staring at something in the air. 
    And there it was. A bright red glistening...

That Sort of Person

Lovely

She's the kind of person who only frowns when she's alone.

Five Novel Titles

Five Titles

Crossing London

5 Seconds

Chemistry

Cranberries & Me 

A Inexplicable Story
 






 

Birdcage and Buoy

Red

Big billowing clouds of a dark gray mass rumbled and grumbled from their perch above, belching the frozen liquid pulps down upon the humans below. The ice chunks bounced and clunked, shattered and pmmmmhed. All the city people cowered and ran for cover, trying to protect them and their surrounding peoples from the ice storm. It was a chaotic frenzy of sloshing hurried foot-steps and little shrieks from by-standers.
    But among that chaos, there stood a small young girl. Her hair was plastered onto her face from the wet, and little red and pink bumps were forming on her skin, like little blisters. Her expression was perplexed with her brows risen high up on her forehead, mouth parted in astonishment, and eyes wide with soemthing awfully similar to love. Even as the haled ice broke down onto the poor girl, she stood amazingly still, staring at something in the air. 
    And there it was. A bright red...

Poetry

Smaug

The drops on his brow
Whiskers two different colors
His ear looks torn
Something's dried in his fur
Near his nose the grass is dark

My stomach clenches,
my breathing stops
"Dad!"
I never knew I could
sound so terrified

Dad runs to me
He must have heard
His face is panicked
then I point
him out

My chest is tight,
my body numb
He's dead.
The sobs come,
silently

Dad gets gloves
and a bag
He scoops him up, 
the cat so small
in his hands

I can't get it out
of my mind
That little gray kitty
Unmoving on the grass
Dark drops around his head

Why I Write

Why Do I Write?

Freedom.

I write to escape. 

A lot of times I feel trapped in the world of daily chaos; I feel that I am in a small, sqaushed metal cage where I'm constantly tormented. 

Whether it's between me and a friend, a faimly member, or myself, I feel that I have to say the right, perfect things. That if I utter something even remotely wrong everything falls down that stairs quickly, and wiht a big boom at the end. I feel like I can't break loose from the barred cage and be myself because I am trying to be...perfect. I try to be someone I'm not.

When I write, I love the feeling as my fingers lightly grap the smooth coolness or warmness of the pen. The swift movement of my hand gliding accross the paper as words are somehow translated. I love the smeel of the paper. And I love the soft sound of the utensil pressing against the parchment....

Big Blue

It's up above

not down below

I see it now

it's like a show

With big bright lights

sometimes it shines

sometimes it doesn't

like twinkling dimes

It's got all the actors

and actresses too

the propts are all there

it's almost my cue

I walk on the stage

the lights are on me

the crowd is dead silent

now do you see?

The lights never die

but in the day-scenes 

They're always up there

behind the mountain of greens 

It's up above

not down below

we see it now

it's just like a show

 

 

 

 

 

Some Words

A shudder. A tingle. A buzzing. A sigh. A push. A crash. A step. A gasp. A cringe. A thump. A warmth. A painful mutter. A breathe. A squeak. A step. A cringe. A step. Step. A limp. Limp. Limp. Limp. Limp. 

The shock. The pain. The shoe. The cringe. The walking. The limping. The pain. Again, again, again. 

Some wrap. Some guaze. Some pain. Some limping. Some questions. Some replies. Some nots. 

Twisting. Healing. Staying. Carefulness. Cautiousness. Secretiveness. 

 

Tension In The Car

I want to crawl in a deep, dark hole where all the sounds of life vanish and are replaced with the constant dripping of damp liquid that hangs in drops from the cavern ceiling. I want to look away and not see or hear anything, but it's hard. And pretty much impossible.

There they are. Each of them sit on a different seat in the old, tall, 15 passenger van. Mom in the passenger. Dad in the driver's. 

I can almost taste the resentment and tension in the air; that heavy gloom that shifts in the air between the two adults. Those emotions are so plain, yet they are out of focus. The ones I can immediately spot are usual: annoyance. Stress. Worry. Anxiety. Anger. 

They've just had another one of their occasional fights. It's never anything bad or too serious, actually, it's never even a fight. It's more of an argument about something little, even the most triffle thing. Theire worst, in my...

Lone

Did you ever say goodbye?

Did you ever see me cry?

When the tears fell down my face

You were nowhere near this place

When I called your name

There was pure claim

That you had left me

You left me

 

I smiled with you

I cried with you

But when you left

There was nothing

Loneliness

Shrouded me

You were nowhere

You left me

 

I had once been glee and glad

I had never been sad

We sang, danced and played

And laughed in the shade

I would smile when we talked

I would skip when we walked

But then you left me

You left me

 

I smiled with you

I cried with you

But when you left

There was nothing

Loneliness

Shrouded me

You were nowhere

You left me

 

You left me when you were needed most

You left me when I made a toast

to you

I cried and sulked

I pouted and...

Crimson Petals

She was up in the tree. Her face pressed up against the cool stone bark, her shoulders slumped with exhaustion, and her legs dangling from the tree limb's surface, the girl sat there. Her head throbbed with clear, cutting-stone pain that havened around her forhead and into her eyes, but also reached down into the muscles of her spine and shoulders. Everything hurt.

The girl closed her red eyes, hoping to find some sort of release from the pain that so easily had visited her. But she was afraid that it was making its stay permanent. 

The girl, looking to be about thirteen years of age, had short, ear-length black and gray-twisted hair tucked beneath a deep blue hood. The fabric, smooth as it was, looked to be shimmering like rushing water against the wind and moon-lit sky. Small, delicate patterns depicting letters of a strange language and plants of nature embroidered the robe in the blackest of black thread. 

A...

YOU in threes

In Threes Is Me

Three adjectives I would use to describe myself:

1. Shy

2. Crazy(a good crazy, though)

3. Random

 

Three questions that I have:

1. Why are things the way they are?

2. What am I supposed to write?

3. Why can't I be myself?

 

Three things very few people know about me:

1. I have a terrible memory

2. I L-O-V-E ice cream

3. I'm a talker. Get me to talk and I'll ramble on and on

 

Three pet peeves:

1. I get easily angered when poeple chew loud(even though I know I'm probably no the quiest chewer)

2. Metal forks scratching against, well, anything.

3. When everyone is talking at once

 

Three sources of comfort:

1. My journal

2. Reading a worth-while book

3. Writing...specifically about made-up worlds and characters

Kayla Mayg

Her backpack slung sloppily across her back, black and white checkered sneakers squecking against the pavement, carmel brown hair blowing in the steady breeze. The sun was just rising over the mountain landscape around her little town. The roads were silent, the whole town was deathly quiet except the occasional buzz of life that blew through the yards of early morning-risers, already bending down to weed. 

A thick strand of Kayla's frizzy hair was wrapped around her pointer-finger. She spun it round and round, making the hair tighten. Her groggy, moring dazed eyes blinked a few times, still fresh out of bed. Her skin seemed to glow a little bit and the teenage ickiness that inhabitated her skin appeared to not be there. Her eyes were slightly squinted, still half asleep consiously.

Sleepy thoughts of the days upcoming events crowded her mind. It was the first day of school in her new house. Kayla, her mother, father, two brothers, and...

Feeling

Everyhting seemed different then. The sky, the air, the people. Everything had been so much...less. So much, much less valiant and cherishable. Now, everything was more. It almost was a nothing. But nothing is a something. I've experienced it. Felt it soak into my heart and bury itself into my chest, filling me with its... something, whatever that something may be. 

I've felt the emptiness when we didn't have anything, not even a nothing. I've felt the blankness when we didn't know what anything was...what anything could be. We didn't know. 

Then it all changed. That one, one second that flooded through the gales of wind, blowing into our system and filling us with an actual something. 

I felt sorrow. I saw lives flash before my eyes, blinking in and out like a fast-note on the keys on piano. It was painful. It was horrid. I cried for the first time ever. I felt things. I felt.

Then I felt...

Give Me a Chance?

I'm that girl that everyone...well, let's be honest, is annoyed with. No one's ever said it to my face, but I can see it in their sudden tensness in their shoulders, the shifted silence, and especially in their eyes. Those glistening eyeballs say everything. 

I'm the girl that sits in the corner, silent and shy, puting on that pretend smile that people smile back to. I listen to their conversations, not really being nosy, just trying to inch my way further into the group. I just sit back in the shadows, listening, smiling, laughing.

I'm the one that people never talk to. I know it might be because I'm shy and I don't really talk to them, but I'm too fearful to take the first leap. When I do talk, the conversation usually ends right there and silence falls over everyone as they shift around or smile nervously, then they start up a whole new topic, swatting me aside like...

Truths and Untruths

I Wish...

I wish there was no illness

I wish there was no pain

I wish there was no sadness

and people did not strain

 

I wish there was no such thing as stress

and families broken apart

I wish that the world wasn't such a mess

and people wouldn't depart

 

I wish there were more summer days

and friends to share it with

I wish my smile would last longer

and death was just a myth

 

I wish there was no hunger

I wish there were no poor

I wish we saw ourselves as equals

instead of the boat and the oar

 

I wish I had words to express

the feelings in my heart

I wish others might understand

before I break apart

 

I wish things were easier

and maybe sweeter too

I wish it wasn't so tough

so it was simpler to make it through

 

But I know that we will 

hold 'till the end

And fight our...

Feeling

Everyhting seemed different then. The sky, the air, the people. Everything had been so much more. So much, much more valiant and cherishable. Now, all we have is nothing. Nothing. Nothing is a something, though. I've experienced it. Felt it soak into my heart and bury itself into my chest, filling me with its... something, whatever that something may be. 

I've felt the emptiness when we didn't have anything, not even a nothing. I've felt the blankness when we didn't know what anything was...what anything could be. We didn't know. 

Then it all changed. That one, one second that flooded through the gales of wind, blowing into our system and filling us with an actual something. 

I felt sorrow. I saw lives flash before my eyes, blinking in and out like a fast-note on the keys on piano. It was painful. It was horrid. I cried for teh first time ever. I felt things. I felt.

Then I felt...

White Waves

Steady, lasping blue and foamy white waves crash up against the rocky shorline. The rocks stand tall and firm, jutting out of the barely visible sand. Black and dark brown water stains stand on the rocks' sides where the ocean waves have slapped against it, splashing up onto the rocks. The blue water clams, slowly moving like a current of soliders marching to war. The weapons rise, the soliders run, smashing into their enemy. The waves create a loud splash as they collide with the rocks' sides. 

The salty water stings my nostrils, making them flare slightly at the sudden smell and reaction. A small smile spreads across my face as I watch the water from where I stand on one of the  higher rocks. The high-tide approaches, splashing foamy water onto my flip-flops and toes. I look up from the water and gaze into the artwork in front of me. 

The sun is setting, lowering itself behind the ocean...

Truths and Untruths

I Wish...

I wish there was no illness

I wish there was no pain

I wish there was no sadness

and that people did not strain

 

I wish there was no such thing as stress

and families broken apart

I wish that the world wasn't such a mess

and that people wouldn't depart

 

I wish there were more summer days

and friends to share it with

I wish my smile would last longer

I wish death was just a myth

 

I wish there was no hunger

I wish there were no poor

I wish people would see us all as equals

instead of the boat and the oar

 

I wish I had words to express

the feeling in my heart

I wish others might understand

before I break apart

 

I wish things were easier

and maybe sweeter too

I wish it wasn't so tough

so it was simpler to make it through

 

But I know that...

The Sky Up Above

It was late Saturday night. Where I lay on a soft cream-colored blanket, the sky stared down at me with such immensity, it made the backs of my eyeballs hurt.

    The sky was a dark, bleeding black, dyed with a dark, dark blue that seemed to have soaked in, giving it a natural look. White stars glittered up against the darkness, illuminating the blue to have a white-ish tone around them. Patterns, natural and almost undetectable, sat askew in the millions of little lights. In the glow of pale moonlight, I extended my left hand up. My fingers traced their way around the now-seemingly smaller stars. Then my hand grasped one that looked larger than the rest. I closed my hand around it, then brought the cupped hand down to my mouth. My lips pecked my fingers that had danced along the star’s sides. Then I put it slipped it carefully into my shirt pocket.

A smile on my face,...

Fifth Attempt

My back bends awkwardly, my knees press up against my chest, and my feet curl up as tight as they can go. Something sharp and cold sticks into my back. I can feel warm and sticky liquid traveling slowly down my back’s skin, but I ignore the pain and stay focused on making no noise. I try not to breathe, but my breath seems to want to come out right at this moment. The worst possible moment for me to be breathing.

I suck in, feeling my nostrils flare, wanting to puff out the air that lingers in my lungs. My brain tells me to exhale, but I ignore the steady warning. If I breathe out that will mean me being found.

The terror claws mercilessly at my chest. If I am found, it’s game over. That is, for me. Cautious. Clever. Patient. I remind myself slowly. If I even slightly penetrate any of those three rules, I’m a goner....

Borrowing Voice

Warming Comfort

"I don't mean to be angry and awful. I know I'm being selfish and I can't help it. I feel like I'm about to be pushed into the blackest darkness. It feels like I'm four years old again, and I want my Mommy." As the tears streamed down her face, Jim stroked her hair. He wanted to pass on the comfort he now felt in his heart, but he knew no words for it. He laid his head against Kristen's and silently prayed for his daughter.

Jim felt the warm tears dropping onto his wrists, soaking into his skin. The prayer wasn't long, nor was it short. There seemed to be no length to the words and phrases he spoke to God, pleading for guidance and comfort for Kristen specifically, and all those struggling as they. The words came smoothly and quickly. Time passed slowly as he said that simple prayer. 

By the time he opened his eyes and looked up,...

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25 Likes from Others

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