Here's the revised version of my story for my creative writing class. I hope to improve my grade through an improved story. I think it's better anyway.
Some time ago a little girl sat in the corner of her living room hiding. The blinds were drawn and a fire burned in the hearth while the warm, dry air cut into the girl’s skin. A young boy sat, dressed in blue one-piece pajamas among a sea of toys under a plastic tree. Christmas lights draped on the tree still flickered with life while the boy chirped and threw his toys about, his little body almost buried among them. The father sat in his recliner by the fire reading a newspaper. He looked at both of his children, smiled and arose. Putting his paper down on the coffee table, he left the room.
As he walked, he waved to his daughter and told her, “Cassandra, look after your brother. I’ll be right back.”
Cassandra didn’t acknowledge him and continued to sit still and quiet. She watched her father’s smile as darkness filled his eyes and rolled down his face; it oozed out of the sides of his mouth. She felt the darkness; a cold sweat dampened her clothes, so she shivered.
Once he left she whispered, “He hates me.”
The little boy played, and took notice of his sister. He picked himself up, waddled over to her corner, and stood pigeon-toed in front of her.
The boy barked at his sister, “Play!”
She didn’t respond. She refused to look at him. He meowed, “Play.”
Cassandra shot a sideways glance at her brother and said, “No Elliot, leave me alone.”
Her gaze sent a shiver up the little boy’s spine so he turned and said, “No fun.”
The boy sauntered back to his nest of toys under the tree, and taking up a model car he ran it along the carpet. The boy smiled. He chucked the car and nailed his sister in the head. She growled as he cackled. Studying him out of the corner of her eye, she saw a blue furred hyena with a wild tuft of hair on its head laughing at her and bearing its fangs. It tossed another car her way, all the while laughing and dancing in the middle of the room.
Soon the animal circled around its sister with hunger in its eyes with drool flopping from its mouth. She prayed it would call off its attack hoping it would go away, but instead the hyena smiled as it drew closer and lunged. She gave it a quick look; her hollow eyes pierced its soul. Cassandra made a pass at the menace and shoved him once, forcing the animal backwards as it lost balance. It smashed its head on the coffee table on its way down. The animal found it hard to move, its joints froze and the boy’s body hardened up resembling stone. Its body fell forward following the blow from the table and hit the ground with a heavy thud. The drool turned to foam as its body morphed to stone while Cassandra stood and kneeled by her brother.
She whispered, “Now you know how I feel about you.”
She got up straight and surveyed the room. The fire heated up and the warm, tan room melted away. The paint on the walls flowed down onto the floor; the plastic tree rendered a green-brown puddle along with all of the furniture. The room disappeared down a drain in the center of the floor while only concrete remained.
It was hot. Cassandra removed her green and red sweater, throwing it to the ground. As her sweater went down the drain, it chased after the room gone before it. With a burst, the window broke open and a cold wind swept the room sucking the fire back out the window. Cassandra sat huddled and shivering.
Footsteps approached, and each drop echoed in Cassandra’s ears, rattling her brain. Cassandra looked for an escape, looking towards the two open doors on either side of the room. The sound of footsteps came from the door in front of her, so she turned and went out the other way. Leaned up against the cold concrete Cassandra pushed along as the lights bore down on her. She shielded her eyes but the hall twisted and turned, forcing her to sway with the motions, in an attempt to keep balance.
A flood of light gave way to another concrete room with a steel table and three chairs decorating the area. A plate of eggs waited in front of one of the seats, so Cassandra took the seat and chewed on the meal. It was cold and the food tasted off. A dark window watched over the room which Cassandra avoided looking at it best she could because someone on the other side watched her and studied her. She glanced once to see who and saw a girl looking back, a prisoner in the mirror. She had red hair tied back in ponytails and sat at a table similar to her own, and she turned away as she herself did. Cassandra then ate slowly.
The footsteps returned, prompting Cassandra to spin in her chair to see down the hall from where she came, but there was no time to escape. A black stream entered the room and pooled on the floor under the table, forcing Cassandra to lift her feet onto her chair. From the door, a dark form took shape, its claws dug into the door frame and its face blood red as fire danced in its eyes. The demon entered the room and rounded the table, dominating the area and towering over Cassandra. Its eyes bled while it coddled something in its hands.
Cassandra trembled and asked, “W . . . who are you?”
The demon responded, “What do you mean who am I? I’m your god damned father, that’s who.”
“Am I at that place again? I don’t want to be here.”
“No Cassandra you’re at home. But don’t worry you won’t have to be here for very long as you’re going back to the asylum. You have any more questions?”
“Why are you holding that fuzzy rock?”
The demon roared, shaking Cassandra. It pounded the table with its free arm and coughed black spit, covering Cassandra.
Cassandra said, “I don’t wanna go. Why do I have to go?”
The demon spoke and Cassandra discerned its words in between its sobs, “Because I told you to watch your brother but you didn’t do as you were told.”
Cassandra responded, “I did watch him.”
The demon told Cassandra she’d go back to the asylum immediately. Cassandra’s heart sunk. She said after she shot forward in her chair, “No Dad, no! Anywhere but there, don’t take me back to that place. It’s cold. I’ll be good.”
The demon shook and yelled, “That’s not the issue here Cassandra!”
It paused for a moment, “Those doctors said the medicine I’ve been giving you would be enough to keep shit like this from happening. I thought it was a load of bull, so I stopped giving it to you. That was a mistake.”
Cassandra wrapped her arms around the chair, “No . . . I’m not going.”
The dark pool around the chair turned red. Cassandra looked up to see the demon in flames as it lunged at her. She put her arms up in defense but the demon grabbed her by one arm and yanked her out of her seat. She tumbled onto the floor, but got back to her feet as the dark figure dragged her along, its fingers digging into her arm and its touch searing her skin.
Pulled through the hall, Cassandra’s feet dragged along the floor as the concrete walls closed in around her. Her breathing quickened. The demon, fuzzy stone in one hand and girl in the other stopped before the front door which had a small window set far above Cassandra’s line of sight, but she saw the crimson sun spilling out of the sky into the hall. The demon rooted about itself with its free hand, searching. It shoved its daughter out of the way and opened a closet next to the front door pulling out a kiddy carrier and strapping its son into the seat.
The demon said, “I can’t find the car keys, I need to go look for them. Stay right here. Got it?”
She sat down against the wall and pouted. Tears welled in her eyes.
As the demon went away to retrieve its keys, it coughed and told her what the doctors told him of her condition. He told his daughter she was a danger to her self and others and said she’d be best served locked back up in the asylum from where she came. The doctors knew better how to handle such a problem as Cassandra.
The demon said, “He didn’t do this to himself, right? You hurt your brother right?
Cassandra cried; her sobs carried along the hall, “No . . . yes . . . I don’t know.”
The demon growled and forced Cassandra to look at her brother. She wanted to turn away but he didn’t allow it as he wanted her to see what she did.
Not knowing what else to do, Cassandra turned to her brother comatose in his safety seat and ran her fingers through his tuft of hair, apologizing to him. The demon stopped and turned around to face its daughter; it said, “Don’t you dare touch him! Keep to yourself or so help me God I’ll . . .”
She whimpered; her father marched up and backhanded her. She went silent.
The demon went back down the hall and said, “We have to go to the hospital first. Count yourself lucky we don’t go straight to that place.”
Cassandra said back, “Dad, I’m sorry.”
The father reached the exit to the kitchen; he said, “No, you’re not.”
Returning with the keys, the demon took the child carrier in one hand while picking up his daughter and tossing her over his shoulder with the other all in one fluid motion. He opened the door and carried Cassandra, who kicked and screamed, into the cold.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
News
It's been awhile since I updated last, but I plan to post my revised version of "Happy Holidays" as soon as I complete that project. I'm also writing another short story which I gave the tentative title "Derby Harbor". Restrictions follow the second story as they did the first, although those restrictions are different.
For the second assignment our professor gave us, at random, a place and time that our in which our stories must be set. I got Alaska in 2004 and that works for me. The only major caveat is that no one can die, which I can handle. I may taunt the second restriction, but I will not break it. I wish there was more time in the day.
For the second assignment our professor gave us, at random, a place and time that our in which our stories must be set. I got Alaska in 2004 and that works for me. The only major caveat is that no one can die, which I can handle. I may taunt the second restriction, but I will not break it. I wish there was more time in the day.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Happy Holidays
Some time ago a little girl sat in the corner of her living room hiding. The blinds lay drawn; a fire burned in the hearth. The warm, dry air cut into the girl’s skin. She breathed heavily. A young boy sat, dressed in blue one-piece pajamas, among a sea of toys under a plastic tree. Christmas lights draped on the tree still flickered with life. The boy threw the toys about chirping, his little body almost buried among them. The father sat in his recliner by the fire reading a newspaper. He looked at both of his children, smiled and arose. Putting his paper down, he left the room.
As he walked, he waved to his daughter and told her, “Cassandra, look after your brother. I’ll be right back.”
The girl didn’t acknowledge him. She continued to sit still and quiet. She watched her father’s smile. Insidious, darkness filled his eyes and rolled down his face; it oozed out of the sides of his mouth. She felt the darkness, felt its cold. She shivered.
Once he left she whispered, “Hate. He hates me.”
The little boy played, and eventually took notice of his sister. He picked himself up and waddled over to her corner. He stood pigeon-toed in front of her.
The boy barked at his sister, “Play!”
She didn’t respond. She refused to look at him. He meowed, “Play.”
The girl shot a sideways glance at her brother and said, “No Elliot, leave me alone.”
Her gaze sent a shiver up the little boy’s spine. He turned, left, and said, “No fun.”
The boy sauntered back to his nest of toys under the tree. He took up a model car and ran it along the carpet. He handled the car and stared at it. The boy smiled. He chucked the car and nailed his sister in the head. She growled; he cackled. She studied him out of the corner of her eye. She saw a blue furred hyena with a wild tuft of hair on its head. It laughed at her, bearing its fangs. It tossed another car her way, all the while laughing. The creature danced in the middle of the room.
Soon the animal circled around its sister with hunger in its eyes; drool flopped from its mouth. She prayed it would call off its attack. It drew closer to her. She hoped it would just go away. The hyena smiled and lunged. She gave it a quick look; her hollow eyes pierced its soul. The animal found it hard to move, its joints froze. The boy’s body hardened up, resembling stone. Its head too heavy to carry, its body fell back and hit the ground with a heavy thud. The drool turned to foam as its body morphed to stone. The girl stood and knelled by her brother.
She whispered, “Now you know how I feel about you.”
She got up straight and surveyed the room. The fire heated up. The warm, tan room melted away. The paint on the walls flowed down onto the floor; the plastic tree rendered a green-brown puddle along with all of the furniture. All of the melt disappeared down a drain in the center of the room. Only concrete walls and the floor remained.
It was hot. The girl removed her green and red sweater, throwing it to the ground. It went down the drain, chasing after the room gone before it. With a burst, the window broke open. A cold wind swept the room and sucked the fire back out the window. The little girl sat huddled and shivering.
Footsteps approached, each drop echoed in the girl’s ears, rattling her brain. Heavy boots drew ever closer. The girl looked for an escape; she saw two open doors. The sound of footsteps came from the door in front of her, so she turned and went out the other way. Leaned up against the cold concrete the girl pushed along. The lights bore down on her as she shielded her eyes. The hall twisted and turned. The girl swayed with the motions, trying to keep balance.
A flood of light gave way to another concrete room. A steel table with three chairs decorated the area. A plate of eggs waited in front of one of the seats. The girl took the see and chewed on the meal. It was cold. The food tasted off. A dark window watched over the room; the girl avoided looking at it best she could. They watched her, studied her. She glanced once and saw a child looking back at her, a little girl much like herself. She had red hair tied back in ponytails. She sat at a table similar to her own. She watched and turned away. She ate slowly.
The footsteps returned. The girl turned in her chair to the hall she came from, but there was no time to escape. A black stream entered the room and pooled on the floor under the table. The girl lifted her feet onto her chair. From the door, a dark form took shape, its claws dug into the door frame and its face blood red as fire danced in its eyes. The demon entered the room and rounded the table. It dominated the area and towered over the little girl; its eyes bled while it coddled something in its hands.
The little girl trembled and asked, “Why are you holding that fuzzy rock?”
The demon roared. The girl shook. It pounded the table with its free arm. Coughing and hacking, black spit from the demon covered the little girl. It spoke; the girl discerned its words in between its sobs.
The demon said, “I told you to watch your brother.”
The girl responded, “I did.”
The demon barked, “That’s it. I’m taking you back to that place. Those doctors can deal with you.”
The girl’s heart sunk. She said after she shot forward in her chair, “No Dad, no! Anywhere but there, don’t take me back to that place. It’s cold. I’ll be good.”
The demon shook and yelled, “That’s not the issue here Cassandra!”
It paused for a moment then said, “Those doctors said the medicine I’ve been giving you would be enough to keep shit like this from happening. What a load of bull. Let’s go.”
The girl wrapped her arms around the chair and said, “No . . . I don’t wanna go.”
The dark pool around the chair turned red. The girl looked up to see the demon in flames. It lunged at her; she put her arms up in defense. The demon grabbed her by the arm and yanked her out of her seat. She tumbled onto the floor, but got back to her feet as the dark figure dragged her along. Its fingers dug into her arm; its touch seared her skin.
Pulled through the hall, the girl’s feet dragged along the floor. The concrete walls closed in around her. Her breathing quickened. The demon, fuzzy stone in one hand and girl in the other stopped before a large door. It shoved the door open and everyone was bathed in light. The sun sat to the west, crimson spilling out of the sky. The demon walked around to a black car and opened the back door, shoving its daughter into the seat. It leaned over the girl and carefully placed its son in a child seat next to her. The demon slammed the door shut and got in the driver’s seat.
The car roared to life; the girl begged her father once more, “Please, don’t take me back to that place. I can’t go back. I’m sorry. I didn’t hurt Elliot. I didn’t even touch him.”
The demon coughed and said, “You didn’t have to touch him.”
The girl cried, her sobs carried along as the car backed out of the driveway and went along the road. The demon sneered. The little girl turned to her brother, comatose in his safety seat and ran her fingers through his tuft of hair.
She said, “I’m sorry.”
The demon slammed the breaks and spun around in his seat; he said, “Don’t you dare touch him! Keep to your side or so help me God. . .”
She whimpered; her father backhanded her. She went silent.
The demon turned its attention back to the road and said, “We have to go to the general hospital first. Count yourself lucky we don’t go straight to that place.”
The little girl then said, “Dad, I’m sorry.”
The father released the break and drove on; he said, “No, you’re not.”
As he walked, he waved to his daughter and told her, “Cassandra, look after your brother. I’ll be right back.”
The girl didn’t acknowledge him. She continued to sit still and quiet. She watched her father’s smile. Insidious, darkness filled his eyes and rolled down his face; it oozed out of the sides of his mouth. She felt the darkness, felt its cold. She shivered.
Once he left she whispered, “Hate. He hates me.”
The little boy played, and eventually took notice of his sister. He picked himself up and waddled over to her corner. He stood pigeon-toed in front of her.
The boy barked at his sister, “Play!”
She didn’t respond. She refused to look at him. He meowed, “Play.”
The girl shot a sideways glance at her brother and said, “No Elliot, leave me alone.”
Her gaze sent a shiver up the little boy’s spine. He turned, left, and said, “No fun.”
The boy sauntered back to his nest of toys under the tree. He took up a model car and ran it along the carpet. He handled the car and stared at it. The boy smiled. He chucked the car and nailed his sister in the head. She growled; he cackled. She studied him out of the corner of her eye. She saw a blue furred hyena with a wild tuft of hair on its head. It laughed at her, bearing its fangs. It tossed another car her way, all the while laughing. The creature danced in the middle of the room.
Soon the animal circled around its sister with hunger in its eyes; drool flopped from its mouth. She prayed it would call off its attack. It drew closer to her. She hoped it would just go away. The hyena smiled and lunged. She gave it a quick look; her hollow eyes pierced its soul. The animal found it hard to move, its joints froze. The boy’s body hardened up, resembling stone. Its head too heavy to carry, its body fell back and hit the ground with a heavy thud. The drool turned to foam as its body morphed to stone. The girl stood and knelled by her brother.
She whispered, “Now you know how I feel about you.”
She got up straight and surveyed the room. The fire heated up. The warm, tan room melted away. The paint on the walls flowed down onto the floor; the plastic tree rendered a green-brown puddle along with all of the furniture. All of the melt disappeared down a drain in the center of the room. Only concrete walls and the floor remained.
It was hot. The girl removed her green and red sweater, throwing it to the ground. It went down the drain, chasing after the room gone before it. With a burst, the window broke open. A cold wind swept the room and sucked the fire back out the window. The little girl sat huddled and shivering.
Footsteps approached, each drop echoed in the girl’s ears, rattling her brain. Heavy boots drew ever closer. The girl looked for an escape; she saw two open doors. The sound of footsteps came from the door in front of her, so she turned and went out the other way. Leaned up against the cold concrete the girl pushed along. The lights bore down on her as she shielded her eyes. The hall twisted and turned. The girl swayed with the motions, trying to keep balance.
A flood of light gave way to another concrete room. A steel table with three chairs decorated the area. A plate of eggs waited in front of one of the seats. The girl took the see and chewed on the meal. It was cold. The food tasted off. A dark window watched over the room; the girl avoided looking at it best she could. They watched her, studied her. She glanced once and saw a child looking back at her, a little girl much like herself. She had red hair tied back in ponytails. She sat at a table similar to her own. She watched and turned away. She ate slowly.
The footsteps returned. The girl turned in her chair to the hall she came from, but there was no time to escape. A black stream entered the room and pooled on the floor under the table. The girl lifted her feet onto her chair. From the door, a dark form took shape, its claws dug into the door frame and its face blood red as fire danced in its eyes. The demon entered the room and rounded the table. It dominated the area and towered over the little girl; its eyes bled while it coddled something in its hands.
The little girl trembled and asked, “Why are you holding that fuzzy rock?”
The demon roared. The girl shook. It pounded the table with its free arm. Coughing and hacking, black spit from the demon covered the little girl. It spoke; the girl discerned its words in between its sobs.
The demon said, “I told you to watch your brother.”
The girl responded, “I did.”
The demon barked, “That’s it. I’m taking you back to that place. Those doctors can deal with you.”
The girl’s heart sunk. She said after she shot forward in her chair, “No Dad, no! Anywhere but there, don’t take me back to that place. It’s cold. I’ll be good.”
The demon shook and yelled, “That’s not the issue here Cassandra!”
It paused for a moment then said, “Those doctors said the medicine I’ve been giving you would be enough to keep shit like this from happening. What a load of bull. Let’s go.”
The girl wrapped her arms around the chair and said, “No . . . I don’t wanna go.”
The dark pool around the chair turned red. The girl looked up to see the demon in flames. It lunged at her; she put her arms up in defense. The demon grabbed her by the arm and yanked her out of her seat. She tumbled onto the floor, but got back to her feet as the dark figure dragged her along. Its fingers dug into her arm; its touch seared her skin.
Pulled through the hall, the girl’s feet dragged along the floor. The concrete walls closed in around her. Her breathing quickened. The demon, fuzzy stone in one hand and girl in the other stopped before a large door. It shoved the door open and everyone was bathed in light. The sun sat to the west, crimson spilling out of the sky. The demon walked around to a black car and opened the back door, shoving its daughter into the seat. It leaned over the girl and carefully placed its son in a child seat next to her. The demon slammed the door shut and got in the driver’s seat.
The car roared to life; the girl begged her father once more, “Please, don’t take me back to that place. I can’t go back. I’m sorry. I didn’t hurt Elliot. I didn’t even touch him.”
The demon coughed and said, “You didn’t have to touch him.”
The girl cried, her sobs carried along as the car backed out of the driveway and went along the road. The demon sneered. The little girl turned to her brother, comatose in his safety seat and ran her fingers through his tuft of hair.
She said, “I’m sorry.”
The demon slammed the breaks and spun around in his seat; he said, “Don’t you dare touch him! Keep to your side or so help me God. . .”
She whimpered; her father backhanded her. She went silent.
The demon turned its attention back to the road and said, “We have to go to the general hospital first. Count yourself lucky we don’t go straight to that place.”
The little girl then said, “Dad, I’m sorry.”
The father released the break and drove on; he said, “No, you’re not.”
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Creative Writing Assignment
We had a small exercise in Creative Writing today. We had to describe a crime scene using only one syllable words. This is what I wrote.
A dark path, woods flank each side of the walk. A girl lies dead on the side of the path. The leaves of the trees dance in the brisk wind. The girl is cold; the man who killed her did so some time back. She wore plain clothes, a sweat shirt and sweat pants. She ran to this place; she thought she was safe so long as she could run. There is no blood. The man who killed her cleaned up his mess. Birds crow in the trees not far off; they sing for her. I hope to get home soon.
A dark path, woods flank each side of the walk. A girl lies dead on the side of the path. The leaves of the trees dance in the brisk wind. The girl is cold; the man who killed her did so some time back. She wore plain clothes, a sweat shirt and sweat pants. She ran to this place; she thought she was safe so long as she could run. There is no blood. The man who killed her cleaned up his mess. Birds crow in the trees not far off; they sing for her. I hope to get home soon.
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