(no subject)
I really like writing because when I am in the right mood, I have this great system of writing so that when I look back at what I wrote months or years later, I really like the style. I found these on an old private LJ I kept for myself just for writing. There were only three things on it.
The first one, I think, was after I talked to David of Isaiah and he got a bug in his eye as he was walking around. THen a week or so later, I was riding my bike and I got a bug in my eye. Then the next night I watched Fight Club again. Thus... story. The second one is completely true. Ignore the face they both have to do with bugs. The last one I turned in to Cremin as our first writing assignment.
1.
There was a gentle whisper in my ear; the winds were singing to me. Up ahead I saw a small hill, but to me, it was a mountain and I was ready to conquer it. I switched my bicycle gears and stood up for the extra push I would need to make it to the peak. Pumping my legs hard, the taste of victory on my lips, a vague black spot was bouncing about in front of me. I approached it at full speed and the outline of a mosquito come into focus. Before I could avert my body, the bug smashed into my eye and I saw nothing. Panicking, I let go of the handle bars and reached for my watering eye. I felt the bicycle swerve dangerously left and right beneath me, but I could not regain control. It was too late. As if the bike were suddenly possessed, it began hurtling down the mountain that I had just climbed. It flung me full force into a cold, steel lamp post and my body continued to fly through the air until it landed roughly on the road. My skin scraped asphalt and I felt my flesh tearing away from the rest of my body. A warm liquid flooded my nose and mouth. I couldn’t breathe! Fearing for my life, I began to scream, but I choked on my desperate cries. I was alone. I was afraid.
2.
My eyes traced the path of a bug as I stood out on the balcony one morning. It was early, very early. I told myself it was so early, in fact, that I might be the only one awake for miles. I knew I was wrong, but the thought was comforting. He moved from left to right, the bug, first passing the distant street lights. One flickered on and off every few seconds, blinking awake, unsuccessfully. The little creature then courageously fluttered past the thick, roaring storm clouds. The winds were pushing them with such force that before the bug crossed the length of just one, it had changed forms and was an entirely different cloud. Then his path dropped him downward and I could see the still parking lot and the lonely road behind it. The cars were in as deep a sleep as their owners. I suppose the bug saw me too, because he performed for me a high-speed loop, a zig here, and a zag there. As I followed this insect’s antics through his grand finale I realized that he lead his final act on a stage with a gorgeous backdrop. There were not angry storm clouds, but light, fluffy clouds glowing hues yellow and blue with anticipation of the new morning. At the final bow, the curtain dropped and the scene changed. Traffic cluttered the road in a matter of moments. People drained out of the apartment buildings, slowly at first, and dragged themselves to their vehicles for work. The street lights shut off, all except the stubborn one, still deciding whether to be lit or not. I sighed despairingly. My special world where everything was silent and peaceful was over, and there was no going back.
3.
We sat, eight legs crossed, staring into nothing. The words we spoke hung in the spiraling column of smoke that rose before us, but drifted away with the next silent breeze; they had no meaning. Behind us, around us, above us, everything was hazy. Our world was just us, a memory of the night in the form of the lingering taste of s’mores on our lips, and the warmth. There was the warmth from our bodies, huddled close, gently touching. There was the warmth from the long summer night and the stars raining down on us. There was the warmth from the spark fighting passionately to stay alive in the small mountain of twigs glowing among us. Then there was the cool, serene notion in our hearts that summer was just beginning.
I might have written my college admissions essay instead of studying for APUSH today (the day before the AP exam)
Pooz.
The first one, I think, was after I talked to David of Isaiah and he got a bug in his eye as he was walking around. THen a week or so later, I was riding my bike and I got a bug in my eye. Then the next night I watched Fight Club again. Thus... story. The second one is completely true. Ignore the face they both have to do with bugs. The last one I turned in to Cremin as our first writing assignment.
1.
There was a gentle whisper in my ear; the winds were singing to me. Up ahead I saw a small hill, but to me, it was a mountain and I was ready to conquer it. I switched my bicycle gears and stood up for the extra push I would need to make it to the peak. Pumping my legs hard, the taste of victory on my lips, a vague black spot was bouncing about in front of me. I approached it at full speed and the outline of a mosquito come into focus. Before I could avert my body, the bug smashed into my eye and I saw nothing. Panicking, I let go of the handle bars and reached for my watering eye. I felt the bicycle swerve dangerously left and right beneath me, but I could not regain control. It was too late. As if the bike were suddenly possessed, it began hurtling down the mountain that I had just climbed. It flung me full force into a cold, steel lamp post and my body continued to fly through the air until it landed roughly on the road. My skin scraped asphalt and I felt my flesh tearing away from the rest of my body. A warm liquid flooded my nose and mouth. I couldn’t breathe! Fearing for my life, I began to scream, but I choked on my desperate cries. I was alone. I was afraid.
2.
My eyes traced the path of a bug as I stood out on the balcony one morning. It was early, very early. I told myself it was so early, in fact, that I might be the only one awake for miles. I knew I was wrong, but the thought was comforting. He moved from left to right, the bug, first passing the distant street lights. One flickered on and off every few seconds, blinking awake, unsuccessfully. The little creature then courageously fluttered past the thick, roaring storm clouds. The winds were pushing them with such force that before the bug crossed the length of just one, it had changed forms and was an entirely different cloud. Then his path dropped him downward and I could see the still parking lot and the lonely road behind it. The cars were in as deep a sleep as their owners. I suppose the bug saw me too, because he performed for me a high-speed loop, a zig here, and a zag there. As I followed this insect’s antics through his grand finale I realized that he lead his final act on a stage with a gorgeous backdrop. There were not angry storm clouds, but light, fluffy clouds glowing hues yellow and blue with anticipation of the new morning. At the final bow, the curtain dropped and the scene changed. Traffic cluttered the road in a matter of moments. People drained out of the apartment buildings, slowly at first, and dragged themselves to their vehicles for work. The street lights shut off, all except the stubborn one, still deciding whether to be lit or not. I sighed despairingly. My special world where everything was silent and peaceful was over, and there was no going back.
3.
We sat, eight legs crossed, staring into nothing. The words we spoke hung in the spiraling column of smoke that rose before us, but drifted away with the next silent breeze; they had no meaning. Behind us, around us, above us, everything was hazy. Our world was just us, a memory of the night in the form of the lingering taste of s’mores on our lips, and the warmth. There was the warmth from our bodies, huddled close, gently touching. There was the warmth from the long summer night and the stars raining down on us. There was the warmth from the spark fighting passionately to stay alive in the small mountain of twigs glowing among us. Then there was the cool, serene notion in our hearts that summer was just beginning.
I might have written my college admissions essay instead of studying for APUSH today (the day before the AP exam)
Pooz.