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REALLY?
Article posted May 5, 2011 at 07:13 PM GMT0 •
comment (1) • Reads 854
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Are Romeo and Juliet REALLY "in love" ?
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Article posted May 5, 2011 at 07:13 PM GMT0 •
comment (1) • Reads 854
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March Free-Write
Article posted March 22, 2011 at 04:30 PM GMT0 •
comment (1) • Reads 351
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See
When you look at me,
What do you see?
Do you see what truly is?
What hides beneath the surface?
Beneath that one simple smile?
The disguise of all my tears?
My sadness, my pain?
Everything that’s true?
All that really is?
And when you do see me,
Do you finally understand?
Know why what you see is true?
Why it hides beneath the surface?
Beneath that one simple smile?
The disguise of all my tears?
My sadness, my pain?
Everything that’s true?
All that really is?
When you say you understand,
Do you finally see what’s clear?
See what truly is?
Truly see beneath the surface?
Beneath that one simple smile?
The disguise of all my tears?
My sadness, my pain?
Everything that’s true?
All that really is?
And if you do see me,
You see what truly is.
You see what hides beneath my surface.
You see what hides beneath my smile.
You see why I disguise my tears.
You see my sadness, you see my pain.
You see everything that ‘s true.
You see what truly is.
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Article posted March 22, 2011 at 04:30 PM GMT0 •
comment (1) • Reads 351
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He-February Free-Write
Article posted March 3, 2011 at 07:35 PM GMT0 •
comment • Reads 339
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I wrote this a couple years ago.
I was maybe 11 or 12 when I wrote it.
It's about my father.
He
More and more he does it again.
I don’t know when it’s gonna end.
Day by day I think to myself if it will ever change.
But then I think back to that one day.
That day when it happened.
When it all went down the drain.
It seemed impossible.
Like it could never happen.
But it did.
It did happen and everything changed.
Now I know it’s never gonna be the same.
But maybe it could, maybe it could change, but it wouldn’t ever be the same.
It’s only been a year but it feels like it could happen again and again.
I don’t remember all of it, but I do remember a lot.
If I wanted to tell you I couldn’t because it’s too much for me to explain.
It’s too much for me to remember.
It’s too…upsetting.
It’s really weird how I remember it.
How I can see it in my mind.
I begged and begged for him to stop.
But he still does it, more and more each day.
And every time he does it, he begins to change.
He changes so much it’s like it’s not even him.
Because it’s not him, it’s someone else.
I’m so afraid that when he does this, so afraid that he might snap…
Snap into the monster that he was.
Now he has dragged a victim down with him.
That victim was his son.
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Article posted March 3, 2011 at 07:35 PM GMT0 •
comment • Reads 339
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Meghan E -- January Free-Write
Article posted January 13, 2011 at 07:11 PM GMT0 •
comment (2) • Reads 414
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Awake ; Chapter 1 ; Part 2
After I take a shower, shampoo and condition my hair twice, and wrap a towel around me and my head, I stand in front of the mirror above the sink and look at my reflection.
I can tell that there’s something different. Aside from my eyes, mouth, and teeth, they didn’t change much from when I first woke up. I just can’t figure it out.
I decide that it’s probably nothing, and move on to my morning routine. Blow-dry my hair, brush my teeth, get dressed, and after I’ve picked up the bathroom and put everything back in place, do I finally realize what was different after I got out of the shower. I go back over to the mirror and take a closer look.
I was right. That is what was different.
Now, for as long as I can remember I’ve always had this very fair, blemish-free complexion. Even when I’ve tried to get a tan of some kind, did it ever change. I’d be out there not even thirty seconds and have to go back inside out of the sun because I couldn’t stand to be out there a second longer. But I’ve never been one for sun, anyway.
Now, I’ve learned if I put on a lot of sun-block and not have my face exposed too much, that it doesn’t bother me as much.
It always did irritate my eyes. Kind of like a flashlight beam being shoved in your face. You can’t help but squeeze your eyes shut, and turn away because it hurt to look any longer.
And now, as I can’t help but gawk at my new beautifully pale, practically glowing complexion, I have this feeling that’s telling me that there’s something to come. Something telling me to prepare myself, but in a good way. Something that I haven’t had in a long time.
I turn away from the mirror and head back to my room to pick up a little and make my bed. After I finish that, I notice my alarm clock on the stand next to my bed. It says it’s only 2:17 a.m.
I can’t believe it’s only two o’clock in the morning and I’m here getting ready for school. Now wonder it’s so quiet, everyone else is still sound asleep.
I walk over to my window and, except for the moon and the billions of stars, it’s still dark out.
I release an exasperated sigh, grab my hoodie, slip on my converse, and head down stairs out the front door.
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Article posted January 13, 2011 at 07:11 PM GMT0 •
comment (2) • Reads 414
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Meghan E --December Free-Write
Article posted December 20, 2010 at 07:14 PM GMT0 •
comment (1) • Reads 281
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Awake ; Chapter 1 ; Part 1
I sit up so fast that I fall completely off my bed, landing face first into my floor. And I’m so grateful that my carpet is thick enough that I hardly made a sound when I fell.
I get up slowly, one: because I have a killer headache, and two: because my whole body aches like hell. I also feel really tired for some reason, which is weird since whenever I dream of Him, I always feel great when I wake up.
I walk over to my vanity, stumbling over something and almost falling, yet again, on my face. I look over my shoulder to see what it was and find nothing there.
“Psshh, only my foot,” I mutter to myself. Curse my clumsiness.
I turn back around and look into the mirror. And when I see myself, my mouth literally falls open in absolute shock.
I look terrible; I look like total crap. My dirty blond hair is a complete mess, sticking up everywhere, which is weird because my hair goes just two or three inches past my shoulders. Who know what could have made it stick up like that.
My eyes look really scary, all blood-shot with dark circles underneath them, making me look like I haven’t slept in a week or two. It actually looks like I’ve been crying my eyes out. They also have this weird glow to them, almost a violet glow. It’s like I can hardly see my true eye color, which is this weird half-blue, half-green thing. My nose is slightly red. My mouth… Whoa.
I look at my mouth, and am astonished by how different it looks. My lips seem slightly fuller, but not much. They look like they’re kind of pushed out in some sort of pout, like all those supermodels do. Actually, it looks like I have braces of some sort. And trust me; I don’t have the guts to get them. Plus, my mom says I don’t even need them.
Looking at my mouth, I wonder what could make it look so different. I tsk softly, thinking I’m finally going insane, when I see it. I bar my teeth to get a better look, and gasp.
My teeth are about the most different of my face. They’re stunningly white. Both rows of teeth, top and bottom, are all super straight, not one out of line. And the two teeth we all call our fangs, look a little pointier, and also a little longer, then the last time I saw them.
“Wow, I have real fangs.”
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Article posted December 20, 2010 at 07:14 PM GMT0 •
comment (1) • Reads 281
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Meghan E -- November Free-Write
Article posted November 23, 2010 at 07:08 PM GMT0 •
comment (4) • Reads 522
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Prologue (to the book I'm writing)
I open my eyes and find myself staring directly into his deep, violet, mesmerizing stare and right then I know that I am dreaming.
For the past couple of months, he has always found a way to pop up into my dreams at the right moment. Always standing so close to me, whispering soft little nothings in my ear. Funny thing is, I have never seen him outside of my dreams, out in reality, the real world. I don’t even know his name. He doesn’t talk much either, besides the whispering, he mostly just tells me how happy he is that he finally found me, and how he promises that he won’t ever lose me again. Half the time I don’t really know what he means by it.
I’ve asked him so many questions about why he is always in my dreams, why he is always telling just those few short sentences that never make sense to me. And after I’ve asked him those questions and wait for his answers, he hesitates, and then it's morning and I wake up disappointed and fully rested, stored from a great night's sleep.
I have noticed that ever since he started showing up in my dreams, I have been getting better rest then I did before he came around. You would think having the same person constantly showing up again and again in your dreams, and then waking up disappointed, you would feel completely out of rest and exhausted. Apparently, he has the opposite effect on dreams.
Nevertheless, as I’m staring up into his angelic eyes and completely engulfed by their lovingness, he seems distracted somehow, distant even, as if he has something on his mind that pleases him. So, all the while I lie there, examining his indescribably beautiful features, and while he is staring off into the stars above our heads, I cannot help but wonder why this all seems so real to me, almost too real. For some odd reason, in this particular dream, it all seems more real than all of the others he had included himself in.
It’s as if I can actually feel his presence beside me, smell his sweet and seductive scent that swirls in the air around us. I look down as I realize he has his arms wrapped tightly but protectively around me, and then it’s as if I can feel his icy but at the same time hot senselessly smooth skin against my own.
He starts to caress my left arm, starting from the tip of my shoulder and ever so gently drifting his fingertips down my arm in his own graceful way, leaving behind his touch, a burning sensation throughout my body. They trail down further, examining each freckle, every scar; with such softness that I can barely feel the pressure he puts in them.
His hand slows, and rests on the outside of my pale wrist, the one with the mark that I have no memory of getting. He traces it, slow and steady, as if he doesn’t want to cause me any pain by touching it.
As I’m watching his fingers trace it, over and over again. I become distracted, not just by his smooth movements, but by the way he examines my wrist with such intensity, that I didn’t notice when he listed his gaze to stare into my eyes. I glance up from my forever imprinted wrist, to meet his. And as soon as it’s possible, I get hooked within the depths of their alluringness.
While I am staring into his eyes, into him, I find something unfamiliar, but from the pit of my stomach, it’s like I do know exactly what I’m looking at.
He opens his mouth to say something, but then stops with an expression on his face that brings my distractions to a hold.
He sits up abruptly, in half a second, and whips his head around to look at the far end of the clearing.
“What--?” My words are cut off as a tall dark figure steps into view in the shadows of the tall trees that boarder around us. My mouth goes completely dry, for I feel as if I can sense the evil that radiates from him. I get this sudden tightness in my wrist that I can’t even begin to describe, a tightness that seems to burn somehow. I look down to see what could cause me such pain, and cannot believe my eyes.
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Article posted November 23, 2010 at 07:08 PM GMT0 •
comment (4) • Reads 522
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Meghan E -- Writer's Block
Article posted November 22, 2010 at 09:25 PM GMT0 •
comment (1) • Reads 482
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Writer’s Block
Third Person Omniscient
She’s been staring at her computer screen, which is blank, for about five whole minutes. Still nothing has come to her for any kind of story. This is hopeless, she thinks, I’m never gonna get anything down at this rate. She doesn’t know what’s wrong with her today. She’s never had trouble with this kind of thing. With writing.
The teacher glances her way, looking at her blank computer screen. She makes her way over, catching Meghan’s irritated look, and says, “Is there something wrong? You haven’t written anything since we came in the computer lab. Your grade is depending on this, Meghan.” The teacher thinks to herself, I can’t believe she hasn’t written anything yet, she loves writing, she has such a passion for it.
Meghan says, still looking at the screen, “I know, Miss Transue, and there’s nothing wrong. It’s just that nothing has come to me that I could make into something. I guess you could it ‘writer’s block.’”
The teacher says, “Well, just write the first thing that comes to mind. Good luck.” Then goes to answer someone’s question.
Meghan continues to stare at the computer screen a few seconds longer and starts typing, “She’s been staring at her computer screen, which is blank, for about five whole minutes. . . .”
Third Person Limited Omniscient
She’s been staring at her computer screen, which is blank, for about five whole minutes. Still nothing has come to her for any kind of story. This is hopeless, she thinks, I’m never gonna get anything done at this rate. She doesn’t know what’s wrong with her today. She never had trouble with this kind of thing. With writing.
She notices the teacher looking her way, and then at the computer screen. She thinks to herself, as her teacher makes her way over to her, Oh great, more pressure. Her teacher says, “Is there something wrong?” Duh. “You haven’t written anything since we came into the computer lab.” Like I haven’t noticed. “Your grade is depending in this, Meghan.” No need to keep reminding me. Her teacher looks at her expectantly.
Meghan, while keeping her eyes on the screen, says, “I know Miss Transue, and there’s nothing wrong. It’s just nothing has come to that I could make into something. I guess you could call it ‘writer’s block.’”
The teacher says, “Well, just write the first thing that comes to mind. Good luck.” Then goes to answer someone’s question.
Meghan continues to stare at the computer screen a few seconds longer and starts typing, “She’s been staring at her computer screen, which is blank, for about five whole minutes. . . .”
Third Person Dramatic
Meghan’s been staring at her blank computer screen for about five whole minutes. The time ticking away second by second. She looks pretty clueless, her mind blank. She looks lost in thought.
Miss Transue, the teacher, glances Meghan’s way, sees the computer screen, and makes her way over to Meghan. She looks at Meghan’s face, at her frustration, then at the computer screen, and says, “Is there something wrong? Your haven’t written anything since we came in the computer lab. Your grade is depending on this, Meghan.” Then looks lost in thought.
Meghan says, her eyes on the screen, “I know Miss Transue, and there’s nothing wrong. It’s just nothing has come to that I could make into something. I guess you could call it ‘writer’s block.’”
The teacher says, “Well, just write the first thing that comes to mind. Good luck.” Then goes to answer someone’s question.
Meghan continues to stare at her blank computer screen a few seconds longer and starts typing, “She’s been staring at her computer screen, which is blank, for about five whole minutes. . . .”
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Article posted November 22, 2010 at 09:25 PM GMT0 •
comment (1) • Reads 482
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7 Random Things About Me
Article posted October 15, 2010 at 06:43 PM GMT0 •
comment • Reads 1200
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7 Random Things About Me
1. I love to read!
2. I snort when I laugh!
3. I’m short!
4. I love my Converse Sneakers!
5. My favorite color is Blue!
6. I’m super random!
7. My all time favorite band is Green Day!
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Article posted October 15, 2010 at 06:43 PM GMT0 •
comment • Reads 1200
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Some Things You Sould Know
Article posted September 28, 2010 at 07:52 PM GMT0 •
comment • Reads 344
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Some Things You Sould Know.
And what you might find on my binder.
Hey, my name is Meghan. And I Loooove to read! One of the many things you would probably first notice about me is that I love to laugh. Whether it’s funny or not, I just love to laugh. A lot of my friends say that I’m a really funny person, that I can make practically anyone laugh. Can make anyone smile. It’s a gift, but also a curse… Especially when I should really stop laughing, and actually (try to) be (somewhat) normal…
The reading thing I mentioned before, I was serious, I really do LOVE to read. One of my all time favorite books ever written is the novel, Hush, Hush by Becca Fitzpatrick. And it was so amazing for me to read, knowing that it was the author Becca’s first book she had written. The story was incredible, I just never wanted to put the book down. Never wanted to stop reading. I was just so engulfed with what was happening. Okay, I think I’ve wrote enough about that subject.
There’s a quote that a famous man once said, famous in music you might say. He had said, “There’s nothing wrong with being a loser, it just depends on how good you are at it.” This man I talk about, his name is Bille Joe Armstrong. He is the lead singer of the world famous, and my all time favorite, band Green Day. This quote that he said, I agree all the way with it. If you want to be a loser, what’s stopping you? I’m a loser, you see anything stopping me?
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Article posted September 28, 2010 at 07:52 PM GMT0 •
comment • Reads 344
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Time To Let Go
Article posted September 22, 2010 at 06:17 PM GMT0 •
comment (5) • Reads 450
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I stand at the edge of the high cliff, my eyes closed. I can hear the cold, rushing waters far down below me. Violently crashing against the sharp, jagged rocks that connect to cliffs stoned wall. I can smell the earth scented air that whips around me. But from so high up I am, there’s just a touch of the saltiness that clings to the waters. I breathe the scent in deeply and open my eyes.
What I see is so breathtakingly beautiful that I almost reconsider what I came here to do. Almost. The view of the sunset from up here is amazing. Brings back so many memories. But I can’t think about the past right now. Or of the future. There is no future. I have no future. I can only know of the present. The here and now. Where I stand and what I came here to finish. What I came here to end.
I send a quick prayer up to God. Asking him to always look out for the ones I’ve failed. And asking him to forgive me. For what I’ve chosen
as my only punishment.
I take another deep breath to remember all of what I’m leaving behind, feeling a tear slowly slide down my cheek, and prepare to fall…
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Article posted September 22, 2010 at 06:17 PM GMT0 •
comment (5) • Reads 450
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