"Go! Go! Go!" We pushed forward, trudging through the thick sticky mud and holding globs of the stuff in our fists. "Get down!" We flattened ourselves to the ground as mud balls flew at us from the enemy lines. The warning had come to late. As I army crawled through the mud, dodging the sticky mud bombs coming at me from every direction, I saw one, two of our men fall to the ground as the mud struck them with enough force to pin them to the ground. At this rate, we had no hope of winning this war. A...
Lorenzo hated the king. That's because the king liked donuts. All he did was eat donuts. Here is what the king said every morning when he woke up: "DONUTS! BRING ME DONUTS!" If you ate a donut, the king would kill you. All donuts were to be consumed only by him.
Because he ate nothing but donuts, he was very fat. He weighed 1600 pounds. He was heavier than the thrown he sat on, which was made of solid gold. He could not get up so the engineers turned his thrown into a makeshift toilet. That way he could consume...
My face turning a scary shade of blue, hands stiffening, heart slowly...slowly shutting down. Panic surrounds me, but no words escape my throat. There is nothing I can do now. The first time can be your last, so I've heard, and it's real this time. I want to reach for my throat, even try self-Heimlich, but my hands won't unclench themselves out of the white-knuckled fists they're stuck in. I can start to feel numbness through my feet, creeping up my legs, cramping in my stomach. A whoosh of air escaping my lungs, while my eyes rolled back into my...
Away.
He'd escaped.
And not in the usual way.
Home from school at 7:30pm, another long day of detention for crimes uncommitted (who ever did anything really deserving detention – and when has detention been worse than the alternative. Questions he wrestled with with his head on his desk) – home long after sunset, he pressed his head against his pillow and cried.
The tears awoke the empathy of the waters in the room. His fishbowl grew stormy. A glass of water shuddered with tsunami. The poster of the ship on the wall erupted in gale and he could feel the lash...
Blank is the landscape to a story that has not been writin yet.but with each passing charater the page fills up with a colorful tale of adventure, strife, mystery, loss of love, or even a beautiful poem about the way thing are. now as time goes on the page is now a range of tall moutians of climax and intrigue. Dotted with twisting roads and low planes of sorrow and strife. the page a beigins to take shape a buitiful landscape that many readers will hopefully enjoy to look at and be in. The landscape of the story can be...
There was a man who rode on a white horse. He wore a golden cloak. He was handsome and upright in posture. When he passed by, people stopped to stare and to whisper among themselves.
"Who is he?"
"Where does he come from?"
And, although they did not know the answer to these questions, they knew he was good and bold and wonderful. A hero.
There was a man who rode a black stallion. He had a large hat, flopping over his brow. Below the brim, a bright red scar was visible - a slash across his cheek. He slumped...
She leaned over, sideways from her stool, all tits and lips and curly hair falling in his direction.
"Got a light," she asked, sticking a cigarette in the corner of her painted mouth.
He set his beer down, just foam left and dug into his right pocket. Pulled out a lighter and slid it across the plywood painted like mahogany bar. She looked at the lighter, and moved her lips into a pout. Leaned in even closer and said "A gentleman would light it for me."
"You're in the wrong place if you're looking for gentlemen," he grunted, looking straight...
I was walking to grandma's when I spotted the yellow box with a question mark on it. I liked it so much that I leaned against it and stuck a little red thing in my chest. Unfortunately, the little red thing was poisonous and I died. My eyeballs fell out and my skin ripped open and I bled everywhere. Then my body shrunk so that I looked like a voodoo doll. I am still standing against the yellow box with a question mark on it.
bruno went to Kentucky Fried Chicken to buy mashed potatoes and figs. He only had...
I was walking to grandma's when I spotted the yellow box with a question mark on it. I liked it so much that I leaned against it and stuck a little red thing in my chest. Unfortunately, the little red thing was poisonous and I died. My eyeballs fell out and my skin ripped open and I bled everywhere. Then my body shrunk so that I looked like a voodoo doll. I am still standing against the yellow box with a question mark on it.
bruno went to Kentucky Fried Chicken to buy mashed potatoes and figs. He only had...
Victoria and her sister Elizabeth spent their Sundays in the shopping district of their small town, on what they called their "promenade," saying the word in the closest thing they could affect to a french accent.
They would start in cafes and sip teas or coffees, nibbling shortbread, or butter cookies. They would each attempt to look both beautiful but also very bored, and would study each other for comparison later on.
When their cups were empty, they would walk, slowly, and purposefully along the narrow cobblestone streets. Looking in the window display of the second-hand and conscription stores and...