Creative


Creative writing: skits, short stories, essays

I Hear Music Through my Walls (Part 2)

I slept in the car last night, even though I nearly froze. I just couldn't take the idea of staying in that house again. I'm really freaked out. And what makes things worse: my mom won't even talk to me about it. I tried bringing it up, but when I told her about how I went over to the other side of the duplex, she just yelled at me. She claims she doesn't hear music and she said that if we can't get tenants, it's my fault! I don't know what I was supposed to do.

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The Maybes In the Orchard (Lady Madeline pt. 5)

Under different circumstances, Madeline would have loved that walk in the moonlight. The quiet breeze stirring up the smells of the grass, the fresh mud, and the apples of the orchard was comforting. The silvery glow was quite beautiful. While the temperature wasn't warm, it would not have taken more than a light jacket to keep her comfortable as she danced around in the shadows.


But the only jacket she had was soaked. Her arm hurt from where the cat bit her. She was tired and very much afraid. She was glad that Handsome was with her — she would have hated to be here alone — but her muscles were sore, and she felt half frozen. She didn't care whether the moon was beautiful or not, just that it let her see in the dark. She only cared about that flickering light and hoped she was getting closer to it.


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Just One More Candle, Please

A story about a boy, dealing with loss around the holidays.


He threw a rock into the pond and watched the ripples spread out and reflect back in on themselves. They formed a small chaos on the surface of the water.

The air was still, and the sky was drab: an unremarkable gray that was only too appropriate for why he was here. He hated this place and everything about it.

“Such a good boy, such a smart boy,” she had always said. She said it when he was young and believed it. She said it when he was older and knew better. Now she wouldn’t say it anymore.

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