A. Penderwick

United States

She/her/hers

You can call me Meli :)

Reader
Writer
Actor
Singer
Dancer
(inefficient) baker
Ranter
Feminist
...plus a lot of other things too

You matter, you are deserving, and you are enough.

Message from Writer

Feedback is always appreciated!
If you'd like a review, leave a comment on one of my pieces and I'll get to it as soon as I can.
I really love writing reviews, so definitely let me know if you need one!

I wish I could write more often, but I'm busy(and also a master procrastinator, even if it's doing something I love!)

I currently have 1 ongoing series called Dangerous Writing. It's where I'll publish a couple quick writes, and it's fun(albeit a little random). This is a series that doesn't follow a plot, so you don't have to read them in order.

I love to read, and I love book recs- giving them and receiving them(do with that what you will)

Currently Reading: Charming As a Verb(just read Legendborn- SO GOOD!)

Published Work

Word Vomit- I Want to be on Broadway

    I want to be on Broadway.

     When I hear these words, I think of my fifth grade self saying that because I liked theater, but only knew of Broadway being a theater career. I hear these words, and I push them out of my mind; replace them with "I want to be a teacher", or "a therapist", or something. I hear these words, and it feels like a desire that is purely ridiculous.
    Despite all that, these are the words echoing in my soul. These are the words I find myself whispering in the middle of the night, having the same epiphany each time. These are the words that I tell myself aren't true, but are anyways.
    It seems strange to be so afraid of these words, a casual comment about one's future career. But it holds so much more weight then that. It feels almost like a deceleration- "I will be on...

Dangerous Writing (5)

Hello hello hello! I'm back with another installment of Dangerous Writing, the wacky series where I answer prompts while being pressured with the idea of my work being forever destroyed(The Most Dangerous Writing App, y'all, check it out!) You can't hear my voice right now, but just read this in your head as someone who sounds like they've had way to much caffeine and is talking to fast, because that's how I feel. I"m making this whole set up sound much more dramatic then it really is, you can check my previous pieces(LINKED IN FOOTNOTES) for a more detailed and actually helpful explanation. I normally like to start these pieces with a little(hopefully amusing) commentary on what I wrote(plus my chaotic explanations), but there's not much really to say about this piece. There's only one response in here, but I think it's pretty fun. I might turn this into a short story someday, but, as we know, I procrastinate and...

Channeling my Writers Block Through a Fictional Character

    There was a voice in my head telling me I was doing it all wrong. That I had made a fatal mistake. That I shouldn't have auditioned for Audrey, that I would have made a better Audrey Two. I ran off the stage, in tears. I dashed back home, only to find that-
    I stopped writing. I glanced up at the ceiling of the cafeteria, hoping I might find the answer there. Nope. No luck. As often as I tried, I never found the answer to my problems on the ceiling of the Middleview High cafeteria. I set my notebook down, and tucked my pencil back though my ponytail.
    "Kyle, can I have a fry?" I said, simultaneously reaching across the table and grabbing a fry off his tray. 
    "Sure," he said, rolling his eyes. Mira, who was sitting beside me, giggled. For reasons I'd never understand, she'd had a huge crush on Kyle since freshman year. It was super...

Three Month Window

Procrastination

    There's isn't really a habit I'd like to hold on to, more one I'd like to... let go of. And that is procrastination. I am a master procrastinator. Even if it's sitting down to do something i love, like writing, I still distract myself and do other things first, fore reasons I don't totally understand. Even right now, I'm writing this piece because I don't want to do my homework. And maybe I'll publish it today, or maybe I'll wait- days, weeks, months- before deciding I should finally finish it. I don't know if this is something that has always been a part of me, or if it's something I developed along the way, but I know that it's there now, and not so easy to get rid of. But apparently periods of upheaval are a great time to do that, so I'll guess I'll start trying. I'm returning to in person school(still masked though, which I can...

Flash Fiction Competition 2021

The Echoes of Traitors

    The air smelled like pine. 
    
    She stumbled through the woods, breathing heavily. She paused, listening for the footsteps, but they had disappeared. She could only hear the eerie whistling of songbirds, echoing like a warning call. 
    Ignoring the fear that was building in her throat, she frantically tried to start a fire, but the air was too damp. Someone had once taught her a solution, but as she searched her mind, she could only recall the man's voice.
    That voice echoed through her head... and throughout the forest. She gasped, and shouted a name-

    The air smelled like blood.

Flash Fiction Competition 2021

The Echoes of Traitors

    The air smelled like pine. 
    
    She stumbled through the woods, breathing heavily. She paused, listening for the footsteps, but they had disappeared. She could only hear the eerie whistling of songbirds, echoing like a warning call. 
    Ignoring the fear that was building in her throat, she frantically tried to start a fire, but the air was too damp. Someone had once taught her a solution, but as she searched her mind, she could only recall the man's voice. That voice echoed through her head... and throughout the forest. She gasped, and shouted a name-

    The air smelled like blood.





 

Flash Fiction Competition 2021

The Echoes of Traitors

    The air smelled like pine. 
    
    She stumbled through the woods, breathing heavily. She paused, listening for the footsteps, but they had disappeared. She only heard the whistling of songbirds, which tonight, sounded like a warning call. 
    Ignoring the fear that was building in her throat, she frantically tried to start a fire, but the air was too damp. Someone had once taught her a solution, but as she searched her mind, she could only recall the man's voice. That voice echoed through her head... and throughout the forest. She gasped, and shouted a name-

    The air smelled like blood.





 

Flash Fiction Competition 2021

The Echoes of Traitors

    The air smelled like pine. 
    
    She stumbled through the woods, breathing heavily. She paused for a moment, listening for the footsteps, but they had disappeared. She could only hear the whistling of songbirds, which tonight, sounded like a warning call. 
    Ignoring the fear that was building in her throat, she frantically tried to start a fire, but the air was too damp. Once, someone had taught her a solution, but her mind was blank. She searched her memory, but all she could recall was her mentor's voice.
    Suddenly, she heard that voice behind her.

    The air smelled like blood.





 

Flash Fiction Competition 2021

The Echoes of Traitors

    The air smelled like pine. 
    
    She stumbled through the woods, breathing heavily. She paused for a moment, listening for the footsteps, but they had disappeared. All she could hear was the whistling of songbirds, which tonight, sounded like a warning call. 
    Ignoring the fear that was building in her throat, she frantically tried to start a fire, but the air was too damp. Once, someone taught her a solution, but her mind was blank. She searched her memory, but all she could recall was her mentor's voice.
    Suddenly, she heard that voice behind her.

    The air smelled like blood.





 

Flash Fiction Competition 2021

The Echoes of Traitors

    The air smelled like pine. 
    
    She stumbled through the woods, breathing heavily. She paused for a moment, listening for the footsteps, but they had faded into the soundtrack of the forest; insects humming, birds whistling, twigs snapping. Usually, the sounds of the forest calmed her, but tonight they felt threatening and dangerous. 
    Ignoring the fear that was building in her throat, she frantically tried to start a fire, but the air was too damp and the wood would not catch.
    Suddenly, a voice emerged from the cacophony of nature, and the girl gasped.

    The air smelled like blood.

Flash Fiction Competition 2021

The Echoes of Traitors

    The air smelled like pine. She stumbled through the woods, breathing heavily. She paused for a moment, listening for the footsteps, but they had faded into the soundtrack of the forest; insects humming, birds whistling, twigs snapping. Usually, the sounds of the forest calmed her, but tonight they felt threatening and dangerous. 
    Ignoring the fear that was building in her throat, she frantically tried to start a fire, but the air was too damp and the wood would not catch.
    Suddenly, a voice emerged from the cacophony of nature, and the girl gasped.

    The air smelled like blood.

Flash Fiction Competition 2021

The Echoes of Traitors

    The air smelled like pine. She stumbled through the woods, breathing heavily. She looked back, and the thing that was chasing her was gone. She was safe. She sat down, and closed her eyes to rest. The air was dark and cool. Insects hummed, and the trees were swaying in the wind. Usually, the sounds of the forest calmed her, but tonight they felt threatening and dangerous. 
    Ignoring the fear that was building in her throat, she began to rub two stones together, trying to start a fire. But the air was damp and the fire would not start. Suddenly, she heard a thudding behind her. She whipped her head back, and began to run, but it was too late. 

    The air smelled like blood.

A History of Everything, Including You

The Paradox of Life(footnotes)

    We don't really know how it started. We can never really know. But here's what they tell us:
    There was nothing, then, BANG, there was something. That something then grew into everything. Galaxies were unfolding and spinning across the universe; stardust was spiraling around and around and around. Somehow, within the chaos, an order was formed, and the material began to pull together, forming planets and stars, which created solar systems. And somehow, even though the odds were stacked against us, our planet was formed. Earth. A mass of rocky terrain, covered in water, existing in the perfect balance between hot and cold, light and dark, air and water.
    And then, life was created. Suddenly, there were plants and animals everywhere. Each had to learn, adapt to the environment as it shifted and changed around the. This is the paradox of life. Animals will inevitably change the planet; carve paths through the dirt, erode...

Untitled- Unedited

    You stare at an empty screen, and that hidden little part of you that brings forth metaphor and simile and magic is tucked away, where you can't find it. You can try to coax it out, and maybe it will work, but sometimes, it just won't. Scrolling through writing prompts, they all seem one and the same. Mundane, boring, uninspiring. You read the words of others, and it seems so much more magical, because you've forgotten what it feels like to write something that good. You feel like an outsider to something you've been a part of your whole life. And it's different this time. It's not just procrastination, it's not just your brain feeling unfocused. This time, it's a real block. Something you can't get past. It's like when you're scrolling through YouTube, or instagram or whatever, watching and liking posts and videos, but not caring about a single one. It's that mind numbing feeling of back and forth,...

April Grab Bag

Monologue- Could You Ever Forgive Me?

   a 200-word story that starts with the last text you sent. (by Ava Marie)

    "You might be sleeping now... actually, I hope you're asleep, but there's something I want to say. I- I wish things could go back to the way they used to be. I really do, and I know it's my fault, and I'm sorry-
    Actually, I'm not gonna say that anymore. I'm sure you're sick of hearing it, and it's not helping. So... I know I really screwed up, and I hate myself for it, but that doesn't make it ok. There's nothing I can really do to make it ok. And I guess I was wrong before. Things can't go back to the way they were; I betrayed your trust, and that's not really something you can recover from.                                
    Actually, I'm surprised you even agreed to sleep over. But I'm glad you did, even though it's been super awkward. I know...

Once Upon a Time

Lacey Wings(Footnotes!)

    Once upon a time, in the land of fairies, there lived a little girl. This little girl loved her home, as it was as perfect as a place could be. The land of fairies was beautiful; there were tall, leafy trees that let in tiny drops of sunlight, soaking the whole place in an amber glow. There were trickling streams and babbling brooks, with water so clear you could see the perfectly smooth stones beneath. The world was full of color, too. There were blooming flowers in all shades of the rainbow, and friendly creatures, whose iridescent fur coats shimmered and reflected the evening light. There was fruit so ripe it was practically bursting; the colorful flesh inside tasting of hopes and dreams and wonder. And the fairies who lived here were just as bright and beautiful. They flittered gracefully from home to home, sharing everything they had with one another. Yes, the land of fairies was a beautiful place...

July Grab Bag

Chaos, chaos, chaos(pieces have individual titles)(Message box please!)

    a story that starts with “There we sat drinking tea...” and ends with “I smiled at my fish and went to sleep.” (Coco pebbles [ChildOfGod])

Red Letter Day

    There we sat, drinking tea together, when the house shook. I gasped, and set down my ceramic mug. I steadied myself for another shake, but it didn't come. Must be the wind, I thought to myself, pickup the mug back up again and running my fingers over its engraved surface.
    "That was weird, wasn't it Alfie?" Alfie didn't respond, but I didn't mind. He was a quiet fellow. George, perched on the other side of me, was not. She chattered on constantly, though I never knew what she was talking about. She looked at me with disdain, upset that I seemed to be ignoring her.
    "Oh, George, you know I love you." She still looked unhappy, so I tried a compliment. "You look beautiful today,...

Talking to “You”

Pancakes: A Metaphor (A Throwback)

    Your pancake batter is ready. Not made from a mix this time, but completely from scratch. The griddle is heating up on the stovetop. You scoop a dollop of batter, and pour it on to the griddle. You wait for it to spread out and turn golden brown like it is supposed to, but it doesn't. Instead it becomes burnt on the outside, but stays raw in the middle. You scrape scrape off the burnt residue, and add a little more milk to your batter, hoping that this will fix the problem. It spreads out this time, but more than you were expecting, so you leave it on the pan for too long and it gets overdone. This is much harder than you expected. You're starting to think that you should just have last night's pizza for breakfast instead. But no. You press onward. You're going to make a good pancake if it kills you. Plus, it would...

Mid-June Grab Bag

I am Made of Many Colors

  • about what color you think best represents your personality. (~rain~)
    I am made of many colors; not one hue or shade can define me. Like a hundred-sided dice, I am multifaceted. You may contain multitudes, but I contain rainbows.  

 

Dangerous Writing (4)

    Wooo hoo! Installment #4 in my Dangerous Writing series. If this is the first one you're reading, don't worry, the pieces  aren't connected in any way, so you don't have to read the previous ones(but if you want to, they'll be linked in the footnotes). I use The Most Dangerous Writing App for these little quickwrites, and I use the generated prompts as well. These ones are pretty long, so I'm only publishing two. I'm not really sure how I feel about each of these; I really don't know if they're any good or not, so if anyone has feedback/constructive criticism, I will welcome it. One thing I've noticed after these 4 installments is that I tend to revert to defunct sibling relationships or dead parents when I'm writing these. Who knows, maybe I watched to many Disney movies as a kid(Frozen, I see you!) Anyway, read on!

Prompt is in italics.

    As he fell, he waited for...

June Grab Bag

Leap of Faith(Title suggestions?)(Reviews Appreciated)

Write . . .

    a story that starts with the sentence “There I sat, on a vintage sofa, in an antique house, with nothing better to do than wait for doom to arrive.” (Vici B)


    There I sat, on a vintage sofa, in an antique house, with nothing better to do than wait for doom to arrive. I pulled my violin case closer to my chest. I rubbed the peeling stickers as I tried to push out my intrusive thoughts. You bombed the audition. They hated you. You're not talented enough to be admitted into the school of your dreams. You were never talented enough. Everyone here is a prodigy, and you're just a silly little girl who thinks she knows how to play an instrument. I knew, in my heart of hearts that I wouldn't be accepted, so I guess I just had to wait for them to deliver the news. I wished my dad were here to rub...

Dangerous Writing (3)

This is my third installment in my Dangerous Writing series. Woo hoo! I've never been good at maintaining these things, but I think three pieces shows that it's really happening. For people who don't know what I'm talking about right now, Dangerous Writing is where I publish a bundle of quickwrites that I've written using The Most Dangerous Writing App. I'll link my previous pieces in the footnotes, and they have a more in depth explanation of how the thing works. This might be the first real installment of Dangerous Writing, because when I wrote my first one, I had no idea I was going to turn it into a series, and the second one was super chaotic because I decided that I wanted to turn that quickwrite into a story as well(which I am working on, by the way). Without further ado, I present to you some dangerous writing!

Prompts are in italics

    Half the names on the list...

Book Review: Love, Jacaranda by Alex Flinn(read footnotes)

Love, Jacaranda, by Alex Flinn - 3 STARS

This is a fun, light read about family, friendship, and love. It's inspired by the classic novel, Daddy Long Legs, in which Judy Abbott is sponsored to go to school by a mysterious benefactor. I think, as an adaption, the author did a really good job. It stays true to the story, but places it in a more modern setting, and also adds some more complex themes.

Jacaranda has been in and out of foster homes ever since she was 11. Her mom is in prison, and now she's been invited to attend a boarding school for the arts, her tuition paid in full by an anonymous millionaire. She tells stories about the school and a possible boyfriend through emails to the mysterious Mr. Smith.

The book is told in first person, but as emails to Mr. Smith. The first chapter, however, is not an email, it's just a regular...

Little Dreamer Girl(Draft 3)


Little dreamer girl
With her head in the clouds

Come back, please, come back
I'm waiting for you

Little dreamer girl
With her eyes to the stars
Look down, please look down
I'm waiting for you

Little dreamer girl
With her her heart in a story

Open up, please, open up
I'm waiting for you

I'm waiting for you
Won't you please come and see me?
Won't you just take a moment,
come back
look down
open up

and see me?

Your dreams may be better
But they'll never be real
I'm here, I am real and I'm waiting for you.

Your dreams may be safer
But they're only one sided
I'm here, always here and I'm waiting for you.

I'm here for you.
I'll always be here.
I'll wait while you dream-

Let the dreams take you far far away
far away from the pain and the hurt and the sorrow
Let the dreams take you far far away

...

Little Dreamer Girl(Draft 3)


Little dreamer girl
With her head in the clouds

Come back, please, come back
I'm waiting for you

Little dreamer girl
With her eyes to the stars
Look down, please look down
I'm waiting for you

Little dreamer girl
With her her heart in a story

Open up, please, open up
I'm waiting for you

I'm waiting for you
Won't you please come and see me?
Won't you just take a moment,
come back
look down
open up

and see me?

Your dreams may be better
But they're still not quite real
I'm here, I am real and I'm waiting for you.

I'm here for you.
I'll always be here.
I'll wait while you dream-

Let the dreams take you far far away
far away from the pain and the hurt and the sorrow
Let the dreams take you far far away


-and as far as you go, I'll come with.

Eyes to the stars
Head in the clouds
Heart...

Little Dreamer Girl(Draft 3)

Little dreamer girl
With her eyes to the stars
Look, please look
 I'm waiting for you

Little dreamer girl
With her head in the clouds

Come down, please, come down
I'm waiting for you

Little dreamer girl
With her her heart in a story

Open up, please, open up
I'm waiting for you

I'm waiting for you
Won't you please come and see me?
Won't you just take a moment,
Return to earth
And see me?

 I'm here for you, little dreamer girl
I am always here.
I'll stay while you dream, let the dreams take you far far away
But as far as you go, I'll come with.

Eyes to the stars
Head in the clouds
Heart in a story

                                                       
I'll come with.


  

Little Dreamer Girl(Draft 3)

                                                                Little dreamer girl
                                                                With her eyes to the stars
                                                                Look, please look
                                                                I'm waiting for you

                                                                Little dreamer girl
                                                                With her head in the clouds

                                                                Come down, please, come down
                                                                I'm waiting for you

                                                                Little dreamer girl
                                                                With her her heart in a story

                                                                Open up, please, open up
                                                                I'm waiting for you

                                                                I'm waiting for you
                                                                Won't you please come and see me?
                                                                Won't you just take a moment,
                                                                Return to earth
                                                                And see me?

                                                                I'm here for you, little dreamer girl
                                                                I am always here.
                                                                I'll stay while you dream, let the dreams take you far far away
                                                                
But as far as you...

Thanks to You(FOOTNOTES!)

    You brought me here
           Introduced me to this world

I wrote, and learned, and grew, and connected
All thanks to you

    In return, I introduced you and you
                     Showed you everything I knew

Watched you explore and excavate
As I'd done months before


    You showed me how it worked
          Taught me what I needed to know

Finally it all made sense
All thanks to you

    
In return, I taught you
                     Lent you a helping hand

Watched you grow, surpassing me
Once a first follower, now one of hundreds

A community that never stops growing
Always changing, shifting, like sand beneath your toes
Always someone new to teach
Always something new to learn

Thanks to you all, I'm here
Teaching and learning every single day

Thank you.
    

Thanks to You(FOOTNOTES!)

    You brought me here
           Introduced me to this world

I wrote, and learned, and grew, and connected
All thanks to you

    In return, I introduced you and you
                     Showed you everything I knew

Watched you explore and excavate
As I'd done months before


    You showed me how it worked
          Taught me what I needed to know

Finally it all made sense
All thanks to you

    
In return, I taught you
                     Lent you a helping hand

Watched you grow, surpassing me
Once a first follower, now one of hundreds

A community that never stops growing
Always changing, shifting, like sand beneath your toes
Always someone new to teach
Always something new to learn

Thanks to you all, I'm here
Teaching and learning every single day

Thank you.
    

Tiny Love

Love is like a Balloon

Love fills you up, like helium in a balloon. You inflate, rising higher into the sky, lifting up to the clouds. It takes time; the love comes in gradually, and sometimes it starts to leak out. But when you make it there, the view is unlike anything you've ever seen.

But if someone takes a pin and pops that balloon, it all rushes out of you, much faster than it came in. It sends you spiraling in a million different directions- unsure and insecure. And it takes you away from your loved ones who are floating up there with you.

Dangerous Writing (2)(footnotes, I think?)

So a while back I wrote a piece called Dangerous Writing. I used a website called The Most Dangerous Writing App, which is essentially a tool for quick writes that gives you prompts, time limits/word limits, and some extra challenges. And now I'm turning this into a series. I probably won't publish super consistently, but I really like using this app when I have no ideas, because it just forces you to write something. My plan is to save all the little paragraphs in a google doc, and when there are enough for a decent length piece, I'll publish it here. Sometimes these pieces go nowhere, but occasionally, there's a good idea, so please let me know if there's something you'd like to see more of, either characters or plots or really anything. I haven't really done a consistent series on here before, so if anyone has thoughts on how better to organize it, let me know. That's all,...

Manslaughter(footnotes)

    He hear the man's laughter behind him and all his muscles tensed. The sound was a slow, high pitched giggle- unnatural and sinister. It was like the plinking of a droplet dripping from an icicle and landing on the moonroof of a car. The boy shivered. He'd once heard that when you got chills, it meant that someone had just walked over the place where you would die. The man's footsteps thudded closer. The boy's breath was shaky, and he tried to muster the courage to speak. His tongue was frozen in his mouth. He whimpered.
    "Shhh," the man whispered. His voice was quiet, and deep, like the frigid water of a river. "I don't like noise." The words became stern, and sharp; the jagged rocks that lay concealed beneath the water.
    "L-l-let m-me go!" The boy stuttered. The man laughed again, bringing his cold hand up the the boys neck.
    "Oh no," he...

The Art of Specificity

Sadness in her Eyes

1. The girl smiled, but there was sadness in her eyes.

2. The girl glanced up at the boy sitting across the room and smiled, but in her eyes, you could see the sadness and pain that stemmed from losing him.

3. Glancing up at the boy across from her, she smiled gently, with a sadness in her eyes that only he could see. The pain and sorrow of losing a best friend were mingled together with the joy of once having one, and in her eyes, you could see the emotions swirling around like a hurricane. 

Thanks to You(FOOTNOTES!)

    You brought me here
           Introduced me to this world

I wrote, and learned, and grew, and connected
All thanks to you

    
When I didn't know anything
    You showed me how it worked
          Taught me what I needed to know

Finally it all made sense
All thanks to you

    
In return, I introduced you and you
    Showed you everything I knew

Watched you explore and excavate
As I'd done months before

A community that never stops growing
Always changing, shifting, like sand beneath your toes
Always someone new to teach
Always something new to learn

An endless cycle
A perfect cycle
    

Poetry and Spoken Word Competition: 2021

They Don't Define You

You are not defined by their
                                words
                 not defined by what they tell you to be

    It only goes
        skin deep
    Because you are so much more than that

    your culture
            your life
                your world
    transcend their fragile understandings of
     who
               you
                        are

    You are not defined by their strikes
                                       their lashings take a toll on your body
                                           but do not take your identity

    You can see the sunrise
                        you can see beyond their selfishness
   
 You know.

They Don't Define You

    You are not defined by their
                                words
                 not defined by what they tell you to be

    It only goes
        skin deep
    Because you are so much more than that

    your culture
            your life
                your world
    transcend their fragile understandings of
     who
               you
                        are

    You are not defined by their strikes
                                       their lashings take a toll on your body
                                           but do not take your identity

    You can see the sunrise
                        you can see beyond their selfishness
   
 You know.

Our History(Message box)

It doesn't feel like history when you're living it.
the facts and the figures
dates to be memorized
is just everyday life for you


It doesn't feel like history when you're making it.
it's just what you do
not something that will change
the course of a country


It doesn't feel like history when you're changing it.
standing up for what you believe in
rallying and protesting and lobbying
is just what needs to be done


The history comes after
When all is said and done
When the events are transcribed in textbooks
Ready to be learned by some uneager student

The history we learn
Was once lived by someone
Our history formed the present
For some child many years ago

Friendship Tweet

Tweeter

How me and my friend say goodbye:

"K, bye"
*punches/kicks/slaps me*
"Hey!"
*More punching/kicking/chasing ensues*
"Ok, I have to go for real now. Bye!"
*One last punch*
"Ugh, you're the worst"
"Love you too!"
 

Friendship Tweet

Tweeter

How me and my friend say goodbye:

Me
My friend
Both

"K, bye"
*punches/kicks/slaps friend*
"Hey!"
*More punching/kicking/chasing ensues*
"Ok, I have to go for real now. Bye!"
*One last punch*
"Ugh, you're the worst"
"Love you too!"
 

Op-Ed Competition 2021

Kids Clothing: Stereotyping Youth at a Young Age

    Pull up the website of any major clothing shop, like Target or Old Navy. Go to the kids' clothing section and select a gender. If you look at girls' clothing, you're met with a barrage of pink, purple, glitter and unicorns. Boys' clothing usually depicts sharks, sports, and video games. This is a problem. Kids' clothing is so incredibly gendered, and still being based on stereotypes that are biased and untrue for many. This may not seem like a big deal, but it’s creating the foundation for more sexism and stereotyping in these kids' futures. They are being taught at a young age what they should like based on their gender- and it's ridiculous.
    As a kid, most of my pajamas were plastered with unicorns, mermaids, and narwhals. I didn't care about narwhals, but that's what I got. I had one set of pajamas that had a unicorn-shaped island with areas like "Sparkle Falls" or "Rainbow Ice Cream Mountain". I...

Op-Ed Competition 2021

Kids Clothing: Stereotyping Youth at a Young Age

    Pull up the website of any major clothing shop, like Target or Old Navy. Go to the kids' clothing section, and pick a gender. If you look at girls' clothing, you're met with a barrage of pink, purple, glitter and unicorns. Boys' clothing usually depicts sharks and sports. This is a problem. Kids' clothing is so incredibly gendered, still being based on stereotypes that  are biased and untrue for many. This may not seem like a big deal, but it’s creating the foundation for more sexism and stereotyping in these kids’ futures. They are being taught at a young age what they should like based on their gender- and it's ridiculous.
    As a kid, most of my pajamas were plastered with unicorns, mermaids, and narwhals. I didn't care about narwhals, but that's what I got. I had one set of pajamas that had a unicorn-shaped island with areas like "Sparkle Falls" or "Rainbow Ice Cream Mountain". I felt ridiculous wearing...

Op-Ed Competition 2021

Kids Clothing: Stereotyping Youth at a Young Age

    Pull up the website of any major clothing shop, like Target or Old Navy. Go to the kids clothing section, and pick a gender. If you look at girls' clothing, you're met with a barrage of pink, purple, glitter and unicorns. Boys' clothing usually depicts, sharks, and sports. This is a problem. Kids clothing is so incredibly gendered, still being based on stereotypes that  are biased and untrue for many. This may not seem like a big deal, but it’s creating the foundation for more sexism and stereotyping in these kids’ futures. They are being taught at a young age what they should like based on their gender- and it's ridiculous.
    As a kid, most of my pajamas were plastered with unicorns, mermaids, and narwhals. I didn't care about narwhals, but that's what I got. I had one set of pajamas that had a unicorn-shaped island with areas like "Sparkle Falls" or "Rainbow Ice Cream Mountain". I felt ridiculous wearing...

Op-Ed Competition 2021

Kids Clothing: Stereotyping Youth at a Young Age

    Pull up the website of any clothing shop- like Target or Old Navy. Go to the kids clothing section, and pick a gender. If you look at girls clothing, you're met with a barrage of pink, purple, glitter and unicorns. Boys clothing generally falls into the category of video games and sharks. This is a problem. Kids clothing is so incredibly gendered, still being based off stereotypes that we know are completely untrue for many people. This may not seem like a big deal, but it really is. Kids are being taught at a young age what they should like, based on their gender. And it's ridiculous.
    As a kid, most of my pajamas were plastered with unicorns, mermaids and narwhals. I didn't care about narwhals, but that's what I got. I had one set of pajamas that had a unicorn shaped island with areas like "sparkle falls" or "rainbow ice cream mountain". I felt ridiculous...

Dangerous Writing

So there's a neat writing website/app I discovered, called The Most Dangerous Writing App. It's really good for quickwrites, or when you have no inspiration. You can pick a set time limit or words limit, and you have to type for that long/that many words. The trick is, if you hesitate too long, your work gets deleted. There's also a prompt generator, that gives you a first line. It's almost guaranteed that there will be a lot of typos, and it's totally possible that you end up with garbage, but it is really good for getting unstuck when you're out of ideas. Usually I write, and then if I think there's something there, I go back and edit it a little. I like to do around 150 words, but it lets you go over. For these 4 I used a prompt each time.

  Prompt is in italics.

    Bacon sandwiches always reminded her ofher grandma. She inhaled...

Elevator(message box)

I'm in an elevator.
The walls are paneled with dark mahogany wood.
The ceiling is the texture of velvet
and the color of a ripe plum.
Soft music plays in the background.
It sounds like a song I should know, 
but I can't put my finger on what it is.

The ride up should be peaceful. 
Nothing is wrong, but I feel like something should be.
I have a lingering sense of dread in my stomach.
A knot of anticipation that doesn't allow me to think straight.

Seconds later, the elevator stops. 
The doors slide open.
I have a deep sense of foreboding.

And suddenly, I can see.
I look out upon a bright city,
full of buildings and streets and pedestrians.
The sky is a gorgeous blue.
No clouds are visible.
For a moment, I admire the view.
The colors are bright, brighter than should be possible.
It seems, fake somehow, but also
far too real.

And then I...

True or False

You are beautiful in your own special way.

False.
Because that implies that there is a right way to be beautiful.

There is a right way to be beautiful.

False.
Because the beauty you see on Instagram is false.

You are beautiful.
True.

You are special.
True.

Be you and you will be beautiful.
True.

If you can stay true to who you are, you're better than any model or influencer. Staying true to yourself is the most beautiful thing of all.

Mid-February Grab Bag

Purple


    a poem about what your favorite color tastes like! (by FantasyOtter12)

Rich and dark
Like chocolate
Silky smooth
Satisfying
Strong and powerful
Fully encompassing
Swallowing you up in the taste
FIlling you up with happiness
and power
 

Time to Breathe

Why are we doing this now?
Why is this happening now?
I still have time-

Don't I?

I just want a little longer.
A little longer to live, to breathe.
A little longer to still be a kid.

I don't know yet.
I don't know what I want to be or where I want to go or who I need to be.
But I don't need to know yet-

Do I?

I still have time.
But that time is precious 
and I want to save it.
I want to live in it, breathe in it.

Time moves forward and-
I want just a little longer to-
It can't just be gone-

It's happening too fast
and I don't need it to.
I don't want it to.

This time is PRECIOUS.
it matters to me.
I have one chance
and then it's gone
And when it's gone it's gone and I can never come back.
I want to hold onto it. ...

25 Words

Email

She refreshed her email. A new message popped up in her inbox. She hurriedly read the message and screamed excitedly.
"I GOT THE BOOK DEAL!"

Excerpt: The Toilet Monster(a story written by 3rd graders)

  
Context: This is chapter 1 of a story I wrote with two of my friends in elementary school. We started the story in 3rd grade, and continued it until 4th grade. We had about 40 pages worth of work, although there was a big chunk in the middle that just didn't exist. We thought it was pretty brilliant, and had dreams of getting published. That most definitely did NOT happen. It was supposed to be the first book in the series, titled The Toilet Land Chronicles. 
*Please note: all spelling and grammar mistakes from the individual text are included*

  “Hurry up Kade!” I shouted.
     I’m Jack and my friend Kade is over to play. I mean, chill not play, chill what are we 3rd graders. He is still in the bathroom.
    “Uuuuuuuuuuggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” I groaned. “Hurry up! And Kade by the way what grade are we in " 
    “4th grade, Jack and you should have known that”
    “Dang that was...

The Smell of the Air

    The air smelled like pine. She stumbled through the woods, breathing heavily. She looked back, and the thing that was chasing her was gone. She was safe. She sat down, and closed her eyes to rest. The air was dark  and cool. Insects hummed, and the trees were swaying in the wind. Usually, the sounds of the forest calmed her, but tonight they felt threatening and dangerous.
    Ignoring the fear that was building in her throat, she began to rub two stones together, trying to start a fire. But the air was damp and the fire would not start. Suddenly, she heard a thudding behind her. She whipped her head back, and began to run, but it was too late.

    The air smelled like blood.

YOU in threes

Some Things About Me

  1. Three quirks or idiosyncrasies.
When I'm bored, I read 1 star reviews of the Twilight books on goodreads.
I always pick the almonds out of my trail mix.
I often have dreams that I'm hanging out with my favorite broadway stars(I was once pen pals with Phillipa Soo).
  1. Three communities to which you belong (these can be unusual).
AAPA(where I do theater).
My little clan of friends from elementary school.
Percabeth shippers.
  1. Three adjectives your peers would use to describe you.
Exuberant.
Nonsensical.
Dramatic.
  1. Three adjectives your family would use.
Ridiculous.
Kind.
Unfashionable.
  1. Three adjectives you would use.
Talkative.
Determined.
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.
  1. Three things about you that very few people know.
I'm generally very open, so most people in my life know pretty much everything about me. So here are three things that everyone in my life probably knows about me, but I'll share anyway.
I really like to read/write(duh).
I really like musicals.
I really like food.
  1. Three beliefs you...

A Haiku because that's all I have time for right now

                                Anonymity
                    is freeing. I don't know you.
                     And you don't know me.

Happiness is like an ocean

    I imagine happiness like an ocean.
    A vast expanse of blue, glittering in the sun. Not the kind of ocean with choppy waves, or stormy water, but the ocean that's serene, and calm. The kind of ocean where the water is perfectly clear, and you can see the rocks at the bottom. The kind of ocean where the water is warmed by the sun.
    On most days, I'm just bobbing along, perfectly content. Letting the waves carry me farther and farther away from the shore. Soaking in the warmth of the sun. Swirling my fingers through the turquoise water.
    Some days, I dive a little deeper. Not far, just enough to completely surround myself in the ocean. Just enough where I can still see the light of the sun. I let myself float, my limbs falling limp, bobbing up and down in the water. I just let myself close my eyes, and...

Self-Love

Love Yourself

1. I'm totally secure in who I am. I'm a nerd, and a theater geek, and I know it and I own it. I'm not about to change myself to fit some ideal that society has laid out for me.
2. I'm a leader. I take charge and try to figure out what everyone needs to do. I think sometimes this comes off as bossy, but I do get things done.
3. I have a wild imagination. This leads to crazy dreams and insane stories and all sorts of ideas.
4. I think I'm a pretty good listener. Even though I talk all the time, I'm always willing to listen to a friend, because sometimes you just need to talk it out. I get an immense amount of satisfaction from just being there for someone, and I think it usually helps them as well.
5. I recongnize my faults. I'm still a long way from fixing them, but I think...

Snow like Ballerinas

I sit
curled up in a chair
writing a poem

I tap
my pen against my chin
as I think

Words tumble
from my brain
to my pen
and onto the page

I write without a care in the world
all my thoughts
hopes 
dreams
desires
fears
falling from me

Words landing on the page
there and vulnerable and real
a part of me longs to share it
to show my work to the world
to publish my favorite poem

But I’ve learned my lesson
about letting the world see you

One day I opened up
let her see me
showed her my secret thoughts
my hopes 
dreams
desires
fears

I’ve always surrounded myself
with a shield
not letting anyone in
and she
somehow
managed to penetrate it
managed to take a look inside me

I gave her an exclusive
something no one had seen before
And she showed it to the world
used it
to promote herself
used me ...

The Drabble

Gone

    My house, that I've lived in for all 14 years of my life, is unfamiliar to me. Everything is packed up. All the funny little decorations that make this place home are gone, stuffed in a box somewhere. I've known we were moving for weeks, but it hasn't really felt real. Tears spring to my eyes.
    My mother walks into the kitchen, where I'm standing, dumbfounded. I see in her eyes that she's upset, but she's doing a much better job of hiding it. She comes over to hug me, but I turn away, and sprint out of the house.

Creative Nonfiction Competition 2020

A Missed Out Bat Mitzvah

    My bat mitzvah was right around the time that Covid-19 struck. The service was going to be the first weekend of Spring Break. I'd been working on this for a while; meeting with my Hebrew tutor every week at Starbucks, practicing the prayers whenever I had time, and talking with the Rabbi about my torah portion. It had been a lot of work, but I'd really enjoyed it. RSVPs had been flowing in since January, and I was checking in constantly to see if anyone new had replied. Becoming a Bat Mitzvah is an important part of Jewish culture, and I was thrilled to be able to share that moment with my family and friends.

    But then, Covid-19 struck. Covid-19 was changing everything, as new restrictions were being put in place to keep people safe. And with every new development, my bat mitzvah changed. The changes came quickly. Every day, something new was being cut. At first, the style of...

My Own Kind of Magic

We write
stories

about magic

About gods and goddesses,
About wizards and witchcraft
About demons and their hunters

And we call them fiction
                           fantasy
                           false

But we have no way of knowing
if the stories we tell
might be true

What if we are just the mortals
                                    muggles
                                    mundanes?

Who are just along for the ride
Who weren't graced with powers at birth

The magic might be out there
And we just don't know.
 
But
    What if I want to know?
    What if I want to see through The Mist?
    What if I want to be special, too?

Maybe one day,
The Mist will disappear,
and I'll find my magic

Until then, 
though
I'll take what I have.
Instead of seeking a magical world
just beyond my grasp,
I'll seek adventure here.
In my own world.
I don't need magic to have fun.
I don't need magic to feel special.
I can...

The Calling

    I awake to see my room awash in blue light. This is not unusual. It is routine. I step out of my bed, and walk over to my window. It looks out over the 25 acres of land my family owns. Our house sits smack dab in the middle of the field. It’s an old, victorian era house, and my room sits on the top floor. My family rarely comes up here, and I have the freedom to do what I want. Even within my cage, I have freedom.
    The blue light begins to pulse; I have taken too long. I step out of the window. As is routine. My feet float above the invisible path that my Master has laid for me. If I were to step off the path, I would fall to my death. Even though I can not see the path, my feet know where to go. They float, toes pointed. 
    It is night. The moon...

Book Recs(Middle Grade, Childrens)

I love to read. I'll read anything. I mostly read YA fiction, but I've also read interesting adult biographies, so I'm really up for anything. I also love reading books aimed at a younger audience. Just because it's a book written for elementary school kids doesn't mean that older kids can't enjoy it. Here's a list of Middle grade and childrens books that I think everyone, of all ages, should read.

The Cardboard Kingdom, by Chad Sell-
This is a joy filled graphic novel about friendship and imagination. With bright, colorful illustrations and a variety of stories, this book will appeal to kids of all ages. A delightfully diverse cast of characters shows how imagination can turn some cardboard boxes into a fantastical kingdom, filled with robots, queens, monsters and doctors. This book tells many different stories, each focused on one or two characters, but all the characters interact with each other and appear in multiple stories. A lot of...

Writing Quirks(footnotes)

    We're all different in our own ways. Even within communities of people who do the same things we do, we're all different. Actors act differently. Artists paint differently. Writers write differently. I for one, usually plan out my characters in extensive detail, but have almost no specific planning for the plot. Others might write without any planning at all. Still, others might write an outline for each chapter. Some things work well for some people, for others, that might not work at all. But we all have quirks in the way we write. Funny little subconscious things we don't even realize we're doing.

    For me, my quirk is acting out my words. When I'm writing, especially for dialogue, I'll often play the scene in my head multiple times trying to find the right words. I'll often I end up muttering words without even realizing it, acting out the dialogue. Dialogue has always been one of my...

Pandemic Memoir

So Quickly

Everything changed so quickly. It's insane.

My Own Kind of Magic

We write
Stories

about magic

About gods and goddesses,
About wizards and witchcraft
About demons and their hunters

And we call them fiction
                           fantasy
                           false

But we have no way of knowing
if the stories we tell
might be true

What if we are just the mortals
                                    muggles
                                    mundanes?

Who weren't graced with
magical power at birth


But
What if I want more than that?
What if I want to see through The Mist?
What if I want to be special, too?

Even as someone who knows that magic isn't real
and is to old to believe in that kind of thing,
I still have hope.

Hope that one day, I'll do something brave
and change the world.
Hope that I'll wake up, and have the power
to control lightning.
Hope that something, anything interesting might come along,
and change my life for the better.


Until then, 
though
I'll take what I have. ...

Storytelling and Writing(Title suggestions?)

I am not just
a writer.

I am a storyteller.

I create the stories that I tell.
I envision adventurers
I imagine monsters
I take it all a combine it together
into a story.

Walking down the street,
my eye catches 
anything interesting.

A pizza delivery car, a unique statue, a crack in the sidewalk.

And I spin a story.

An delivery truck for an evil organization, a portal into a magic world, a result of an epic battle between two colonies.

I take what's around me, and make it more interesting
Tell a tale, create a world, enliven the characters.

But when I take those tales, those worlds and characters
and put them on to a page
that's when I become a writer

And that's when my story
comes alive

As I write. I ripen the story, make it better, brighter, bigger or smaller

Weaving a web plot lines and plot twists, folding in metaphor, painting pictures, designing characters,...

Creative Nonfiction Competition 2020

A Missed Out Bat Mitzvah

    The whole Covid thing was weird, but also unexpected. It came quickly, before we really had time to process it. I remember in math class, one girl had a cold, and her friend kept saying that she had Coronavirus. It was just a joke back then. I didn't even really know what it was. Some disease in China that had made it's way here. But it didn't feel like a threat.

    A day or two later, in math class, someone asked the teacher if school would close. "If there is a confirmed case, we'll quarantine for 2 weeks, and everything will be disinfected, but other than that, we should stay in school." In an email exchange with my friend(from a different school), she asked me if I thought schools would close. I repeated to her what my math teacher had said. That Friday, schools shut down, until further notice. I remember getting a response from that friend; "Oh,...

Dust Jacket

Reader and Writer


Writer ID
  1. What is your favorite genre to write? 
Fast-pace, funny stories. I love writing dialogue, and it's one of the things I'm better at. Long, beautiful descriptions are not my strength. I enjoy creating fantasy worlds, sometimes just designing my perfect world. I'm imaginative, so I love coming up with unique rules for my community, or funny plants and animals that live there. Dystopian is especially fun for me. I love coming up with a seemingly perfect society that's broken and dysfunctional under the facade of a perfect world.
  1. What is your favorite genre to read? 
Young adult. I couldn't really pick a specific genre, but I generally read contemporary. During the summer I like light, fluffy rom-coms and during the fall I prefer dystopian, but I'll really read anything.
  1. What draws you to the WtW community? 
It inspires me to write, and gives me ideas of what to write about. I've started writing stories based on characters I've...

November Grab Bag

A goddess, a possum, a watch and a bookshelf

  • Write about a possum, living in an attic.
I've always wanted an attic. A mysterious, dusty, attic, where you'd discover old relics from the past. I've always imagined that I'm somehow distantly related to Queen Elizabeth, or maybe Amelia Earhart. I've always figured that the evidence of this would be in our attic. Of course, we don't have an attic, so it made discovering evidence a little tricky. Needless to say, when I found out that we were moving to a house with an attic, I was ecstatic. I don't have many friends, because I prefer to read at recess, or write stories in my notebook. So moving was just an adventure for me! As soon as we arrived at the house, I ran up to the attic. The house belonged to an old couple, but the husband had recently died, and the wife was now in an assisted living facility. I was hoping for some ghosts, but what I...

Tulips

Long
Green
Stems

Resting in a 
Tall
Glass
Vase

Colorful buds
Yellow
Orange
Pink

Pancakes: A Metaphor

    Your pancake batter is ready. Not made from a mix this time, but completely from scratch. The griddle is heating up on the stovetop. You scoop a dollop of batter, and ladle it on to the griddle. You wait for it to spread out and turn golden brown like it is supposed to, but it doesn't. Instead it becomes burnt on the outside, but still raw in the middle. You scrape the residue of the pan, and add a little more milk to your batter, hoping that this will fix the problem. It spreads out this time, but more than you were expecting, so you leave it on the pan for too long and it gets overdone. This is much harder than you thought it would be. You're starting to think that you should just have last night's pizza for breakfast instead. But no. You press onward. You're going to make a good pancake if it kills you....

Novel Writing Competition 2020

Sisters

       I sit on my bed, looking around my room. The walls are gray, with a pale pink accent wall. My bed sits in one corner, near a window, covered in a pale pink duvet. Across the room, there’s an egg chair, a few papers scattered around its base. There are low cubbies along the other wall, stuffed with paints, colored pencils and wrapped chunks of clay. The wall directly across from my bed is covered in art. Some are my sketches, but also images of paintings by my favorite artists. 
    “Hey hon,” my mom says, gently pushing my door open. I look up at her, noticing the exhaustion in her eyes. “Dinner’s almost ready." She walks over and sits down on my bed. “How’s the prep for the art show going?”
    “Ugh, don’t remind me. Nothing I have is good enough yet.”
    “Well, I’m sure whatever you come up with will be amazing.” I roll my eyes, but curl up...

Novel Writing Competition 2020

Sisters

    I sit on my bed, looking around my room. The walls are gray, with a pale pink accent wall. My bed sits in one corner, near a window, covered in a pale pink duvet. Across the room, there’s a egg chair, a few papers scattered around its base. There are low cubbies along the other wall, stuffed with paints, colored pencils and wrapped chunks of clay. The wall directly across from my bed is covered in art. Some are my sketches, but also images of paintings by my favorite artists. 
    “Hey hon,” my mom says, gently pushing my door open. I look up at her, noticing the exhaustion in her eyes. “Dinner’s almost ready." She walks over and sits down on my bed. “How’s the prep for the art show going?”
    “Ugh, don’t remind me. Nothing I have is good enough yet.”
    “Well, I’m sure whatever you come up with will be amazing,”. I roll my eyes,...

Junk

Junk
scattered around my floor
paper, binder, pencils
lying
abandoned

Junk 
piled on my desk
unfinished books, pairs of gloves, half filled out worksheets
everywhere
distracting me

Junk
filling up my brain
starts to a story, things I have to get done, math equations, author's names, lyrics to a song, tunes to a different song, stress, places to go due dates to remember, teachers to email, papers to print, papers to write, books to read, books not to read, things to tell friends, things to text friends, poems to write, ideas begging to be written, things to redo, people to see, conversations to be had, what I'll have for dinner, what I had for lunch
A billion different things
    Tugging at my attention
        Shouting at me
            From a million different corners
                Of my messy
                    Disorganized
                        Junk Filled
                            Brain

Novel Writing Competition 2020

Sisters

    I look down at my bed. I have 4 pieces of work laid out. The first three are watercolor paintings of a wildflower field. The last one is a clean, inked line drawing of a tall, broad-shouldered, bermuda shorts wearing man. I sigh, and put my face in my hands. The Bellville County Art Show is in 2 weeks, and the deadline for submissions is in 6 days. Since it's open to any student attending a Belleville County School, there will be a ton of submissions, and the panel has already stated that they won't be able to accept everyone's artwork. I need to be in this art show. I'm proud of my work, and I finally feel brave to show it off. But it's not good enough.
    I close my eyes, and think back to what Miss Sharon said in art class the other day, when I showed her my first set of paintings.
    The emotion behind...

Applause

The lights come up.
The audience is cheering.
I watch my castmates run on the stage
and take their bow.
And then it's my turn.
I sprint on stage,
I can't stop grinning.
They cheer.
I hear my mom call my name.
I can't stop grinning.
The sounds of 60 hands clapping
echoes in my ears.
They're all cheering.
For me.
And for the show.
And for my castmates.
This beautiful thing we've created together.
A performance that we've worked so hard on.
For days, weeks, months.
Countless rehearsals,
things going wrong,
things going right.
Songs sung.
Dances danced. 
Lines said with emotion and power. 
Inside jokes made.
People bonded.
A family formed.

They're all cheering.
For us.

Impossible

    And so, it begins. Quickly, I search. For anything. A broken twig, or a rustle in the leaves; something to tell me I'm not alone. Yet there is nothing. The forest lies still, impossibly quiet. I'm on my own. It is what it is, and so I venture out into the forest. The trees are impossibly tall, reaching toward the heavens. They yearn with a yearning I've never seen before. They're beautiful, but I know if I stop for just one second, I'll be caught. Beauty is dangerous. I learned that long ago.
    His eyes were like gold. Impossibly beautiful. His dark brown hair was swept out in the wind, begging to be free. Everything about him was perfect. His clothes, his face, his lips, his stance. Impossibly perfect. And though I knew I shouldn't, I followed him. Blindly, I would do whatever he asked of me, all in the hopes that he would give me something. Anything. Impossibly dangerous.
   ...

Impossible

    And so, it begins. Quickly, I search. For anything. A broken twig, or a rustle in the leaves; something to tell me I'm not alone. Yet there is nothing. The forest lies still, impossibly quiet. I'm on my own. It is what it is, and so I venture out into the forest. The trees are impossibly tall, reaching toward the heavens. They yearn with a yearning I've never seen before. They're beautiful, but I know if I stop for just one second, I'll be caught. Beauty is dangerous. I learned that long ago.
    His eyes were like gold. Impossibly beautiful. His dark brown hair was swept out in the wind, begging to be free. Everything about him was perfect. His clothes, his face, his lips, his stance. Impossibly perfect. And though I knew I shouldn't, I followed him. Blindly, I would do whatever he asked of me, all in the hopes that he would give me something. Anything. Impossibly dangerous.
   ...

Snow

A soft blanket
lay atop the ground

Perfectly smooth
Perfectly white
perfect

Glistening in the morning sun
Crystalline
and immacualte

So?

"So?"
"So."
"What did you want to talk about?"
"I think... I think we should break up."
"Are you serious?"
"...yes"
"Six months! We've been dating six months, Timothy! I thought things were going well. I never thought that you'd..."
"It's not your fault, Kara. I just-"
"Then whose fault is it? There are only two of us in this relationship, so that places the blame squarely on you."
"Just-please stop. I can't take this right now."
"Oh, I'm sorry. You decide to dump me without any explanation, and when I'm reasonably upset, you 'can't take it.' That's part of a relationship, Tim. There are ups and downs."
"Kara, I know. And these past six months have been mostly ups. I loved spending time with you."
"But did you ever love me?"
"I-yes, I did."
"THEN WHY ARE YOU DUMPING ME?"
"Because, argh, it's hard to explain. Just-"
"No. If you're going to dump me, I at least deserve an...

Why I Write

Because I Can

     I write because I have ideas. I write to put my words on a page. I write because I have something to say. I write because I want to make people laugh. I write because I enjoy it. I write because I love to read. I write because I have stories to tell. I write because it makes me happy. I write because I have characters I want to bring to life. I write because I can make worlds. I write because I can create my perfect world, and write myself into it. I write because there's no reason not to. I write because I love it. I write because part of me tells me I need to. I write because the words just won't stay inside. I write because the words flow out of me. I write because I have a lot to say. I write for the same reason I talk, because I'm trying to get a point across. I...

All Talk

A Trip to the Zoo


"Pick a card, any card."
"Okay, Marcy, one second. And, there we go. Should I show you?"
"I'm a superhero! Woosh!"
"Very nice, Blakely. Can you come here and stir the mac and cheese?"
"No! I have to save the chickens from evil Mr. Potato-Face!"
"Okay, that's great, but I need someone to stir the noodles. I don't want them to burn."
"Mom, how do you get rid of the remainder? The problem says we're not allowed to have a remainder, but it does, and I can't control that. So now I need to eliminate it."
"I'm going to eliminate you, Mr. Potato Face! Like Harper's remainder!"
"Mom, did you forget about my magic trick? Put the card back in the deck, and then I'm gonna guess what it is, okay mom?"
"Alright Marcy. Once you finish the trick can you get Lola up from her nap?"
"But I had a whole routine. Why can't Harper do it?"
"She's doing...

The Calling(Title Suggestions?)

    I awake to see my room awash in blue light. This is not unusual. It is routine. I step out of my bed, and walk over to my window. My room is on the top floor of our ancient house. The window looks out across the large field that our house sits on. I open the window, and step out. As is routine. My feet float above the invisible path that my Master has laid for me. If I were to step off the path, I would fall to my death. Even though I can not see the path, my feet know where to go. They float, toes pointed. 
    It is night. The moon is full, and the stars are bright. It has been a long time since the Master has called me. Too long. Fleetingly, I wonder why this may be. But before I can even begin to answer than question, the thought is pushed...

YOU, The Writer

Ideas

All day long
ideas
circling through my mind

Late at night
when I can't sleep
I plan the next plot of
my character's journey

Wandering through the shoe store
I compose a character;
two moms, one family owned business
and bright red hair

In social studies
I design a dystopian society
instead of my map of the world

All day long
ideas
circling through my mind

so many words
thoughts
ideas

yet so 
few 
of them
ever make it 
to the page

Pancakes: A Metaphor

    Your pancake batter is ready. Not made from a mix this time, but completely from scratch. The griddle is heating up on the stovetop. You scoop a dollop of batter, and ladle it on to the griddle. You wait for it to spread out and turn golden brown like it is supposed to, but it doesn't. Instead it becomes burnt on the outside, but still raw in the middle. You scrape the residue of the pan, and add a little more milk to your batter, hoping that this will fix the problem. It spreads out this time, but more than you were expecting, so you leave it on the pan for too long and it gets overdone. This is much harder than you expected. You're starting to think that you should just have last night's pizza for breakfast instead. But no. You press onward. You're going to make a good pancake if it kills you. Plus, it would...

Aliens and Little Sisters

                                                                    What I Did This Summer
                                            School Report by Henry Hill for Ms. Ulrich’s 3rd Grade Class
    This summer we went to Florida. My dad works as a space engineer, and they were doing this big rocket launch in Cape Canaveral. I love space and rockets and aliens and cool stuff like that, so I begged my dad to let me come with him. He agreed, but said that the whole family had to come too. Including Alice. Alice is my little sister and possibly the most annoying human being on the planet. Sometimes, I think she isn’t even from this planet. She is five and a half and going into kindergarten and steals my model rockets and covers them in glitter. Also, Alice loves glitter. She has a pink sparkly sequined backpack that she refuses to take off. 
    Anyways, before the whole rocket launching thing happened, we went to Disney World. I liked all the rides, except ‘It’s a Small...