Sunday, October 21, 2012

Mr. Linden's Library



Mr. Linden’s Library
Sofia Bicego
5th/6th hour 10/22/2012

The smell of dust and perfume hung in the air.  The halls were empty.  The sky roof was clanking from the rain and hail.  It was a new school, Golden Hale Middle School, a rich and snobby school, full of over-privileged kids.  It was going to be hard.  To fit in, to be the only girl that isn’t rich, and the only one that doesn’t live in a huge mansion, the only one that wears Converse and hand-me-downs.  Mellie thought this as she walked down these hallways.
She looked up at the ceiling, but just as she did, Mellie ran into someone.
“Oh, hello,” said the strange man.
“Hi.  Sorry for bumping into you,” Mellie said quietly.
“That’s quite all right.  It was my fault, but my eyes aren’t quite what they used to be,” the man said chuckling, “I haven’t introduced myself.  I am Mr. Rupert Linden, the school librarian.”  Mr. Linden was old, probably in his sixties.  He was wearing khakis with brown shoes with a button-down shirt and an overcoat.  He was probably the oddest-looking man Mellie had ever seen.
“I’m Mellie.  Uh…a new student here.”  She didn’t talk too well in front of strangers.  She would often stutter and look at the ground.
“Well, Mellie, I look forward to seeing you.”  The old librarian walked away, smiling.
Mellie thought about him, how nice he was, how different he was from the nasty principal, how the principal treated her and her family like dirt.  But the librarian, Mr. Linden, was kind and wonderful.  She finally knew someone, someone who cared about her, or at least acted like they did.
Soon the bells rang, and the kids filled the hallway like a river that broke its dam.  Mellie was overwhelmed.  She ran down the wide hallway, against the crowd, and ran into the bathroom.  It was as big as two classrooms at her old school combined.  She saw the room, with the dark marble counters, and cried.
“Isn’t this what I always wanted?  To go to a good school?” She said quietly to herself as she cried.  But she started laughing hysterically, because it was just so stupid, to be crying over something as stupid as this.  Just because she’s the complete opposite of all of them, Mellie was fine being herself.  In fact, she was always standing up for herself and other people for who they are.  She didn’t have the money they had, but she had the personality they didn’t.
Mellie thought about it for a while, but she wasn’t the only different one; Mr. Linden.
She stood up, wiped the tears off her face, and sighed.  She walked to the door and opened it slowly, and shut it behind her.
The halls were quiet again.  Since it was her first day, Mellie was allowed to walk anywhere, take a tour by herself, of the huge school.  She walked down the halls to the library.  She opened the dark, oak doors and walked in.
It was gorgeous.  There were more than twenty shelves full of beautiful, hard covered books.  There were buckled leather journals, with golden writing on the covers.  There also was a small fountain in the middle of the library.  There were big pillows on the floor.  The library was so huge that Mellie couldn’t even see all of it.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  The smell was amazing.  It was musty and old; it was books, one of the things in Mellie’s world that was meaningful to her.  She could taste it, the books, the pages, the contents on the pages, the wood which the dusty shelves were made from.  She heard the voices of the books calling her.
Mellie walked up the creaking stairs into the balcony of the library.  The balcony stretched across the whole library.  It had a gorgeous dark oak railing, with small designs carved into each of the poles holding it up.  She slowly rubbed her fingertips on each one.
Mellie walked slowly around the balcony, walking with one hand to the side and one hand on the railing, taking in deep breaths, with her eyes closed.
“Why, hello again,” said a familiar voice from behind her.
Mellie slowly opened her eyes and turned.
“Do you like the library?  Barely anyone comes in here, unless they have to.”  Mr. Linden smiled while he was talking.  Mellie liked how happy, and how he always talked right at her, and not looking somewhere else.
“Oh, yes I love the library, it’s…it’s bigger than any library I’ve ever seen,” Mellie said this quietly, but instead of looking at the floor, she looked at him in the eye, just as all of her teachers had told her to do.
“Why thank you, I’m glad you love it.  Sometimes I mistake it for my actual home!”  The odd librarian often laughed at himself, including now.  He walked over to Mellie and guided her down the stairs.
“Mellie, when do you start your classes?” asked Mr. Linden.
“Next Wednesday. They’re giving me some time to settle in,” Mellie said in a sigh.  “Do…do, do you mind if I stay in here until next Wednesday?” she asked with a crooked smile.
“Oh, of course you can!  I sometimes talk to myself when I’m alone.  It’ll be nice having someone else around!” Mr. Linden chuckled.  Mellie liked the way he would always joke around with himself.
The bell rang and Mellie looked at the clock. 
“Oh well.  I gotta go, bye!  See you tomorrow,” she said and smiled.
“Okay, have a wonderful evening!  See you tomorrow,” the old librarian said happily as they walked toward the doors.
Just after Mellie walked out the big doors, she waved through the tiny square window with a smile on her pale face.  Mr. Linden smiled, his old, odd smile, and waved back.
The next morning, Mellie woke up to a sharp pain on the muscle of her arm.  Her little brothers were standing right by her bed, with their fingernails gouged in her arm.  She saw this and slapped both of them.  They raced out of her room into the kitchen.
She opened her dresser and pulled out her school uniform.  The skirt and sweater were uncomfortable, and itchy.  She slipped into the uniform, and headed into the kitchen.
After Mellie ate, she walked to school and waited in the library.
“Hey,” Mellie said to Mr. Linden.
“Why hello there,” Mr. Linden said with a smile.
“Well, what should I do here, read?  Sit?  Shelve books?” Mellie asked.  She was nervous.  She never had a friend that was a teacher, and she had never spent the whole day in a library.
“Ah, hmmm…you could do those things, or we could talk,” Mr. Linden smiled, like he always did.  Whenever he did smile, his eyes lit up like a pumpkin when its candle is lit on Halloween.  All of the wrinkles on his face became deeper.  His old, square teeth peeked out between his old, skinny lips.
“Okay, I guess we can talk,” Mellie said while taking a seat on one of the chairs by the fountain.
They talked all day.  Mr. Linden talked about his best friend when he was a boy, and how they built a tree house, all on their own, and how he met his future wife when he was thirteen years old.  How he proposed to her when he was twenty-seven, how he hid the ring in her evening tea, and asked her on one knee.  He talked about when he and his wife had a daughter when they were thirty-two years old, and all of the happy and funny memories in between.  Mr. Linden told Mellie about all of the sad memories, too, which were told with tears and listened to with tears.  He told about how his wife died from breast cancer, and how his daughter moved away when her mother died.  And how he has only talked to her five times since.  He spoke about how his best friend died in the Viet Nam war.
Tears from laughter and tears from sorrow rolled down Mellie and Mr. Linden’s cheeks.  Mellie wanted to hug him when he spoke of his past, she only knew him for a couple of days; she felt like she knew him for years.
“Next time, I get to learn about you,” Mr. Linden said, and then sniffed, and wiped his eyes.
“Okay, I have lots of stories to tell,” Mellie laughed.  She wiped away her tears also, and gave Mr. Linden a huge hug.  She felt bad for him, all of his bad memories, but happy for all of his happy memories.
The hug was long and Mellie needed a long hug, and so did Mr. Linden.  He hadn’t had a big hug in years, and Mellie had, but she needed one after her told her about his life.
Just before the bell rang, Mr. Linden walked over to the counter and took out a leather-covered book.  It had a small silver title on the cover.  He walked back over to Mellie and handed it to her.
“Here, keep it, but be careful with it,” Mr. Linden told her as she looked down at it in her hands.
“Okay, thanks.  But why do I have to be careful with this?” she said back to Mr. Linden.
“It,” he paused, “it is dangerous.  If it’s left open for too long, well…it’ll,” he paused again, “it bends the whole world out of control.”  He was not longer smiling, but frowning a cautious frown, and looking straight into Mellie’s eyes with trust, and they weren’t lit up, like usual.  They were stiff.
“How?” Mellie asked with a worried mind.  She was afraid. “Why is he giving me this, if it is dangerous?” Mellie thought to herself.  Her heart was pounding like the ground beneath an oncoming train.
“This book contains a great vine, but if it escapes, it will lock in everyone and everything on this earth, and beyond.  It is an amazing book, with powerful words, and I want you to have it.  But don’t fall asleep with the book open.  If you do, the vine’s gate will be left open, and it’ll escape.”  His eyes were still stiff.  Mr. Linden’s eyes were still stiff.  That frightened Mellie even more.
“Oh, well, if I don’t fall asleep, I’ll be okay, right?” Mellie asked with fear in her voice.
“Yes, I do believe so,” Mr. Linden forced out a smile.  He knew that Mellie was worried, so he tried to smile.
The bell rang.  “Well, I have to go,” Mellie said with a small smile. 
She walked down the crowded halls and out the doors.  She felt as though everyone was staring at her, judging her.  Mellie walked on with her head down, staring at the book.
She arrived at home and went straight into her room.  She didn’t say “Hi” to anyone; she just went to her room.
Just as Mellie opened the small, leather book, dinner was ready.  She shut the book and walked into an atmosphere of roasted chicken smell.  Her father was standing in his apron by the stove, just finishing the vegetables.  He slowly walked over to the table with the pot and placed it on a hot plate.
“Voila, dinner is served,” Mellie’s dad said smiling with pride.
“Looks…good,” Mellie said.  She wasn’t very hungry, due to the fact that she had the most dangerous book on earth.
“Why the sad face?  Did you make any new friends? Oh, and your mom is going to be working late tonight,” he said as he looked at Mellie.
Her two brothers sniffed the pot full of veggies and made vomiting gestures.  The twins always overreacted to the smell (or sight) of vegetables.
“Oh, friends?” said Mellie.  “Well, there is the school librarian who is pretty cool,” Mellie said with a smile.  She thought back to his smile and how many memories he has.
“That’s nice,” said her dad.
“Can I go to my room?  I’m not really hungry.”  Mellie wanted to read the book.  She thought about the caution she had to take, but she knew it would be a spectacular read.
“Sure, go ahead,” her dad said.  Her brothers’ squinty little eyes stared at her.  She despised them, for they lived to make her life miserable.  They were hyper, loud, and very annoying.  They climbed on everything, and destroyed everything, (including the computer).
Mellie walked down the hallway into her room.  She lay down on her bed, and slowly opened the book.  On the title page it read, “Jamous Baxter”.  It didn’t say who it was written by, but Mellie was still curious about what was in the book.
Time went by like a tide in the ocean.  Mellie read.  The book was so good, she couldn’t stop reading, the book was pulling her in word by word, until her eyes couldn’t read any more, and she fell asleep.
He had warned her about the book.  Now it was too late.  The vine crept out of the fold of the book.  It covered the delicate paper pages, and onto the bed.  Mellie felt something creep on her arm, and she shot open her eyes and looked down at the covered arm.  She screamed and ripped the vines off her arm, and tried to shut the book, but she couldn’t.  The huge tangle of plant knotted and twisted nearly around the whole room.
She slammed the door, which woke up all of her family.  They ran out of their rooms and turned on the light in the hallway.  They looked annoyed and worried.  Then a huge vine crashed out of the wall.  Screaming from five frightened people filled the house as they all ran out the door, with no shoes or coats.
“We have to go to Mr. Linden’s library!” Mellie shouted while they were running. 
“Who is Mr. Linden?” Her mom shouted to Mellie.
“The school librarian!  He’s the one who gave me the book that the vines came out of!” Mellie shouted back.
Mellie felt guilty for falling asleep.  She knew what would happen if she did, but she was so tired, and she thought she closed it, but she didn’t.
They finally arrived at the huge school.  Mellie hated it more at night than in the day time.  It was dark and empty and locked.  Her mother, father, and her brothers were pounding on the door, yelling.  And so was Mellie.  Until a janitor came by.
“What do ya want?” the janitor asked, grouchily.
“Please let us in, we need to speak to Rupert Linden,” Mellie said.
The old janitor opened the door and the family of five walked in, and ran to the library.  The floor was cold and smooth as their feet pounded on it.
In what seemed like forever, the library’s door handle was in their reach.  Mellie swung it open and entered with her family.  She shouted for the librarian, and he came out of his office, running.
“What’s all the fuss about?” Mr. Linden saw their faces.  “Oh no, oh no, Mellie.  Please tell me it didn’t happen,” he said, worried and sad.
“I’m so sorry.  I didn’t mean to,” Mellie was crying.  Tears ran from her eyes to her chin, and dripped off, onto her shirt.  Mr. Linden walked over to her and gave her a hug, and everyone else one too.
“What about our house?” one of the twins asked quietly.  The two boys felt empty inside.
“Oh my, I’m so sorry,” Mr. Linden apologized.  “I will find a way to stop this and I swear that I will.”
“What did you do to our family?  What did you do?!” Mellie’s mother shouted.
Mellie was sobbing now.  She felt horrible and not only for what she did but for her family and the librarian.  Her eyes were red and her head was throbbing.
Mr. Linden told them what he had done and what he had given Mellie.  He promised them that he would find a way to stop it, and how it was all his fault.  He told them to help him research on how to stop the vine, but he didn’t know if it would help at all.
They started one book each, but quickly it moved up to ten.  Mr. Linden turned on the television to the news channel, and it was pure chaos.  One of their neighbors had a baby boy, and when they were having a cup of coffee, watching their son sleep, vines wrapped around the house and trapped them inside.  The vine was growing, house to house, but Mellie, her brothers, Mr. Linden, and her parents couldn’t find a solution.
Until one of the twins found something.
“Hey!  I found something!” he shouted.
“What is it?” Mellie asked.
“It says that if you burn the root of the vine, then the rest will disappear forever,” he read.
“The root?” Mellie asked.  “What’s that?”
“It must be the book,” Mr. Linden said.  He sounded certain, and he smiled.
“Well, that’s good, right?” asked Mellie’s dad.
“It is, but I don’t know how we’re going to get to the book.  It’s trapped inside,” Mr. Linden looked as though he were thinking about it.  “One moment,” he went in his office and came out.  “Here we are.” The old school librarian came out with a chain saw in one hand.
“What?  Why do you have a chain saw in your office?” asked Mellie’s mom.
“I once had to cut down a tree in front of the school, but that’s a whole different story,” said Mr. Linden with a wink and a smile.
They all walked down the halls and out the doors.  They ran about three blocks to their house and saw the whole street tangled in the vines.  The sound of the chainsaw added to all of the news reporters and the police sirens.  People stared at their homes, crying, with grey wool blankets wrapped around them.
Mr. Linden cut through the vines, one by one, until he let out the neighbors and their baby.  He kept cutting until a woman had a knife and started cutting with him.  The whole community stood up, one by one, and started cutting the vine.  Police officers, fire fighters, civilians, and everyone else joined in on the freeing of the homes.
They finally cut through so much vine that they reached Mellie’s house, and cut through the living room, kitchen, and hallway, and reached into Mellie’s room and lit a match onto the book.  Orange flames turned green, and then blue, until the whole book turned to ash and the fire went out.
All of the vines disappeared, and homes were back to normal.  All of the holes in the walls and holes in brick had grown back to normal.
The six people looked at one another and smiled. 
“It’s finally over,” said Mellie; she was relieved.  It had been a long night since it all had started.
“Yeah,” they all said at once.
“But Mr. Linden, I have one more question,” Mellie told Mr. Linden.
“What is it, dear?” he asked.
“Why did you pick me to keep the book?” Mellie looked at him with shock and curiosity.
“Hmmm…I’ll tell you Monday,” Mr. Linden smiled and winked, then walked away.

Saturday, October 13, 2012

A Preview: Mr. Linden's Library

     The smell of dust and perfume hung in the air.  The halls were empty.  The sky roof was clanking from the rain and hail.  It was a new school, Golden Hale Middle School, a rich, and snobby school full of over-privileged kids.  It was going to be hard.  To fit it, to be the only girl that isn't rich, and the only one that doesn't live in a huge mansion, the only one that wears Converse and hand-me-downs.  Mellie thought this as she walked down the hallways.
     She looked up at the ceiling, but just as she did, Mellie ran into someone, "Oh, hello," said the strange man.
     "Hi.  Sorry for bumping into you," Mellie said quietly.
     "That's quite all right.  It was my fault, my eyes aren't quite what they used to be," the man said, chuckling, "I haven't introduced myself.  I am Rupert Linden, the school librarian."  Mr. Linden was old, probably in his sixties.  He was wearing khakies with brown shoes, with a button-down shirt and an overcoat.  He was probably the most odd looking man Mellie had ever seen.
     "I'm Mellie.  Uh...a new student here."  She didn't talk too well in front of strangers.  She would often stutter and look at the ground.
     "Well Mellie, I look forward to seeing you."  The old librarian walked away, smiling.
     Millie thought about him, how nice he was, how different he was from the nasty principal, how the principal treated her and her family like dirt, but the librarian, Mr. Linden, was kind and wonderful.  She finally knew someone, someone who cared about her, or at least acted like they did.
     Soon the bells rang, and the kids filled the hallways like a river that broke its dam.  Mellie was overwhelmed.  She ran down the wide hallway, against the crowd, and ran into the bathroom.  It was as big as two classrooms at her old school combined.  She saw the room, with the dark marble counters, and cried.
      "Isn't this what I'd always wanted?  To go to a good school?" She said quietly to herself as she cried.  But she started laughing hysterically, because it was just so stupid, to be crying over something as stupid as this.  Just because she's the complete opposite of all of them.  Mellie is fine being herself.  In fact, she was always standing up for herself and other people for who they are.  She didn't have the money they had, but she had the personality they didn't have.
     Mellie thought about it for a while, but she wasn't the only different one.
     She stood up, wiped the tears off her face, and sighed.  She walked to the door and opened it slowly, and shut it behind her.
      The halls were quiet again.  Since it was her first day, Mellie was allowed to walk anywhere, take a tour by herself of the huge school.  She walked down the halls to the library.  She opened the dark, oak doors and walked in.
     It was gorgeous.
     There were more than twenty shelves full of beautiful, hard covered books.  There were buckled leather journals, with golden writing on the covers.  There also was a small fountain in the middle of the library.  There were big pillows on the floor.  The library was so huge that Mellie couldn't even see all of it.
     She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  The smell was amazing; it was musty and old, it was books, one of the things in Mellie's world that was meaningful to her.  She could taste it, the books; the pages, the contents on the pages, the wood which the dusty shelves were made from.  She heard the voices of the books, calling her.
     Mellie walked up the creaking stairs into the balcony of the library.  The balcony stretched across the whole library.  It had a gorgeous dark oak railing, with small designs carved into each of the poles holding it up.  She slowly rubbed her finger tips on each one.
     Mellie walked slowly around the balcony, walking with one hand on the railing, taking in deep breaths, with her eyes closed.
      "Why, hello again," said a familiar voice from behind her.
     Mellie slowly opened her eyes and turned around.
     "Do you like the library?  Barely anyone comes in here, unless they have to," Mr. Linden smiled while he was talking.  Mellie liked how happy he was, and how he always talked right to her, and not looking somewhere else.
     "Oh yes, I love the library, it's...it's...bigger than any library I've ever seen," Millie said this quietly, but instead of looking at the floor, she looked at him, in the eye, just as all of her teachers had told her to do.
     "Why thank you, I'm glad you love it.  Sometimes I mistake it for my actual home!" The odd librarian often laughed at himself, including now.  He walked over to Mellie and guided her down the stairs.
     "Mellie, when do you start your classes?" asked Mr. Linden.
     "Next Wednesday.  They're giving me some time to settle in," Mellie said with a sigh.  "Do...do...do you mind if I stay in here until next Wednesday?" she asked, with a crooked smile.
     "Oh of course you can!  I sometimes talk to myself when I'm alone.  It'll be nice having someone else around!" Mr. Linden chuckled.  Mellie liked the way he would always joke around with himself.
     The bell rand and Mellie looked at the clock.  
     "Oh well, I've got to go. Bye!  See you tomorrow," she said and smiled.
     "Ok, have a wonderful evening!  See you tomorrow!" the old librarian said happily as they walked toward the doors.
     Just after Mellie walked out the big doors, she waved through the tiny square window with a smile on her pale face.  Mr. Linden smiled, his odd, odd smile, and waved back.
     The next Monday, Mellie woke up to a sharp pain on the muscle of her arm.  Her little brothers were standing right by her bed, with their fingernails gouged in her arm.  She saw this and slapped both of them.  They raced out of her room into the kitchen.

Thursday, September 6, 2012

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Guess How

Guess what I used or what I did to make the pictures turn out like this. (Mom, don't give it away!)




 


 

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Please No! Have Mercy!

No!!!!!
I've gotten newspapers and magazines that have terrible words and pictures of terrible things....I have seen billboards in stores that have murdered my happiness...........

Back to school stuff!!!!! 

All of those horrible pictures were of school stuff!!





Ug,

Why must they kill my wonderful summer, out of school, joy? It's not even August yet! 

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

4th of July

Happy 4th of July! I hope that you have a good holiday and see lots of fireworks!

Sunday, June 24, 2012

"Useless"

The word "useless".
It is what sets fire
to my veins.
It is what breaks
my heart into pieces.

The word "useless",
Spoken to me before
has hurt me.

Nothing is useless.
Not you.
Not me.
Not any human.
Not any thing.
Useless, does not
exist.

Thursday, June 14, 2012

Schools out!

I had a great school year, a lot of ups and downs though. I got through it, I survived 6th grade. And to my reading teacher, good luck with the 1st graders. I hope you have fun. Thank you to all of my teachers for teaching me. Also, now that I'm out of school, i can write more...YAY!!!!! (without school stuff to deal with.) :)

Thursday, May 31, 2012

Memorial Day

Happy Memorial Day! And thank you to all of the service men and women who have died for America. And thank you to all of the service men and women who have served our country and have made it back home or is still fighting.

Monday, May 14, 2012

Happy Mom's Day Mom

Mom.
The most:
awesome
kind
sweet
smart
amazing
understanding
free
accepting 
loving
etc.

Mom.
There are so many words to describe you. 
More than I can think of.
No matter how hectic life gets, You'll still be there for all of us.

Mom.
I love you.
 

Lunchtime

This is a poem that I wrote back in first grade. :)

I walk in the cafeteria
I hear...
People crunching chips
sounds like sparklers.
My feet squeaking on the floor.
Slurping milk when it's empty.
Popping bags, they're exploding.
The sounds of lunchtime! 

Friday, April 20, 2012

Happy Late B-day Mama!

46 is just a number, just a number indeed.

Where the greys take over, 
but to 
me you
look the
same.

46 is just a number, just a number indeed.

Writer or Author?

I came up with this a while back, I find it interesting. 

Author- someone who writes fictional stories and poems, that's what an author is to me.

Writer- someone who writes nonfiction stories, essays and articles, that is what an a writer is to me. 

Monday, April 9, 2012

The Thunder Storm

The sweet smell of dirt and worms. How the thunder makes its own beat to the symphony of shhhhhhhing. The lightning adds a spotlight to the wonderful orchestra. Some people think thunderstorms are so evil and horrid, but they don't really know the beauty it creates. As I sit in my bed, writing, I am slowly drifting off to sleep and have the thunderstorm sing me into a deep sleep. It swarms into my bedroom window looking for a way inside, looking for something to share its wonderfulness with. 

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Memory Writing #2

Sorry for not posting, I've been very busy over my friends house for 4 days and just school has been insane, so I am back now.

Last summer I read a book. I didn't know that the book was so sad until I read the beginning of the book.

Page by page, word by word, sobbing, I would slowly and quietly walk into my mom's room and wake her up and she would either come into my room and lay with me or she would stay in her room and hold me.  I was eleven, but it still made me cry.

After about four nights of waking my mom up and sobbing, I stopped reading the book.

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Tests :(

 If you were wondering, I had to take a huge test today that took up three whole hours to complete half of it....joy.

Dear school,
We students
always 
have to
take tests.
It's no fair 
nor fun.
They 
hand you
a piece of 
paper
or a 
booklet,
and 
expect you
to 
fill in all
of the answers
correctly.
Well school,
we're not
perfect.
So we will
get some problems
incorrect. 

Thank you for under
standing,

Sincerely,
 Student

Monday, March 19, 2012

Memory Writing #1

Memories are priceless. This is one of mine.

Bruce Springsteen playing, blasting through out the house. So loud you could feel the music vibrating through your chest.
The smell of laundry detergent in the living room as my mother dances around the room, singing, while folding clothes. The warm spring sunshine comes through the big window on the front of our house, the door open, letting the cool breeze in with the scent of flowers, dry rain, and sunshine, mixing with the smell of laundry detergent.

This is one of my happiest memories, and one of my favorites. I don't know why, it just is.

Blog Schedule

I've got a schedule figured out for my blog:

Monday- memory writing
Tuesday- none
Wednesday- poem
Thursday- none
Friday- story/short story
Saturday- none
Sunday- free write :)
 

Monday, March 12, 2012

Death

Death.
It creeps upon us like a ghost,
not knowing when it's there, 
not knowing that it will strike at any time.

Death.
When not coming for you,
It strikes others.
Leaving our hearts broken into pieces.

Sorrow.
After death,
this occurs to finish the job.
Soaking into our skin,
pouring out of our eyes,
down our face.
Dripping off,
like freshly melted snow on trees.