I stare at the seeds in my hands. They’re so small, I think, and yet they grow to be so big. Digging small holes in the ground with my nails, I place the seeds into them. Cover them up, and wait. Night and day, I lay there, waiting. The sun’s warmth on my back. I never sleep. I stay awake, and watch. 20 years have passed, and I have not slept. I have not eaten or slept, in 20 years. I laugh as I look up at the tree. “How big you are!” I cry, “It was surely worth the wait!” But alas, it was not. As the tree grew older and withered away, I stayed the same. My age never faltered. It was like the tree grew in a day.
Signed: Sigger!
Monday, May 28, 2007
Depression Story
Depression. Grief. Whatever. I don't care. It's all the same. I take all the knifes, scissors. Pretty much whatever's sharp. I lay them down. One by one. Slowly, making sure they don't try to escape. Even though they can't move they can still escape. I pick them up and examine each one carefully. Making sure that they're spotless and don't have even a speck of dust on them. Taking the sharpest knife, the sharpest pair of scissors and the sharpest compass, I walk outside. Where no one can see or hear me. I scream at them. “Why? Why did you do this to my life? I hate you!” Then I chuck them at the house. Harder and harder. Can't get them to stay. Can't get them to go away. Can't get them to get out of my sick, twisted life. I want to leave. I want to go away forever. Away from where people can call me names. Away from where people can make me angry. Sad. Depressed. I wish I could go away and just sit down and watch my life go by. Like a movie. Oh my god, what am I thinking? Do I really want to die? Do I really want to end this pain and cause others to do what I do? No. I don't. But I want to end this nightmare forever. I want to end this life that I dread. I want to die. But I can't. I can't let others be depressed by what I do. I guess I should tell someone. But I won't. I can't. I'll go away. I'll sit down in the middle of nowhere. And scream. Scream like no one could ever believe. Scream until I can't hear myself. Then I can leave. Come back home. Be happy. I wish. My life stinks. But I won't end it. I'll live and make it better. I'll live and live and live. And be depressed.
A story about a 15-year-old girl. Who was depressed. Depression is an awful thing that is hard to overcome. But this girl did the right thing by talking and taking out her feelings on something other than herself. If you are feeling depressed talk to an adult who you trust. Don't take it out on yourself because it will hurt others who care about you, not only yourself. And trust me on this one. I've dealt with this thing before and it almost lead me to do some crazy things. And guess what. I'm only 12.
Signed: Sigger!
A story about a 15-year-old girl. Who was depressed. Depression is an awful thing that is hard to overcome. But this girl did the right thing by talking and taking out her feelings on something other than herself. If you are feeling depressed talk to an adult who you trust. Don't take it out on yourself because it will hurt others who care about you, not only yourself. And trust me on this one. I've dealt with this thing before and it almost lead me to do some crazy things. And guess what. I'm only 12.
Signed: Sigger!
My Love
My love is like an ocean
It goes down so deep
My love is like a rose
Whose beauty you want to keep.
My love is like a river
That will never end
My love is like a dove
With a beautiful message to send.
My love is like a song
That goes on and on forever
My love is like a prisoner
It's to you that I surrender.
Signed: Anon
It goes down so deep
My love is like a rose
Whose beauty you want to keep.
My love is like a river
That will never end
My love is like a dove
With a beautiful message to send.
My love is like a song
That goes on and on forever
My love is like a prisoner
It's to you that I surrender.
Signed: Anon
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Theatre
As Peg looked around the building she noticed something different. The usually clean stage was dirty, holes in the wood. The curtains were moth-eaten and faded. And all the carpets and chairs surrounding the stage of the once beautiful and glorious theatre were... gone.
"I don't believe it," she whispered. "How could this have happened?"
"Why don't you go and find out?" a voice behind her said in her ear.
"But I don't know how!" Peg cried, the pain of seeing all of her wonderful memories destroyed taking over her.
"Come, follow me, Peg," the man stepped in front of her and produced a hand out of his coat.
"Oliver... I'm scared..."
"There's nothing to be afriad of, Peg. I'm here for you."
So Peg took Oliver's hand and they set off to go backstage.
***
"Woah, I didn't think that it would still be there!" Peg shouted as she ran towards the small box on the other side of her old dressing room.
As she cradled it in her arms, Oliver stepped slowly up behind her and touched her shoulder.
"We need to finish it. Open it up.." he trailed off as her saw tears slowly falling down her cherry red cheeks.
Peg curled up in a ball, her short black hair falling over her face and covering her deep blue eyes, and opened it carefully. Music erupted out of the small, blue box as Oliver glimpsed the small ballerina twirling around and around. As he knelt down next to her, he ran his long, slender fingers through his tousled brown hair. Peg shivered as Oliver leaned in close to her body and wrapped his arms around her.
"I told you that you were safe. And you know that I never lie," he whispered reassuringly.
She closed her eyes tightly and mumbled something unintelligible, thinking hard about the memorys, trying to cast them away.
"I'm not going back to..." Peg trailed off, averting her eyes towards the other side of the dressing room. A scream erupted through the weak and crippled walls. Peg stopped her violent sobbing and turned her head as she slowly began to stand up, still clutching the music box to her chest. Oliver jumped away, startled by her movement. Once he had recovered, Oliver stood up and offered a helping hand to Peg as she crawled to the cracked wooden door on the other side of the room.
"Thanks," she mumbled as she took his arm and pulled herself up.
He placed his hand on her shoulder and gently guided Peg to the door. When they reached it, she just stood there, stunned.
"Go on, you know you're going to have to do it sometime. The screams won't go away without someone to help them," Oliver said.
"I know, I know. But why can't you do it? Instead of me."
"You know why, Peg. Now go, before it's too late."
So she placed her hand on the golden doorknob and just as she was about to turn it, a knock came from the other side. Exactly where the scream had came from.
***
The door burst open, slamming against Peg's nose and crushing her against the wall. Oliver rushed to her aid, pushing the door closed and prising her away from the wall. A fresh scream came and passed them as a small child ran through the doorway and lay crumpled next to the music box that had fallen from Peg's grasp when she was pushed aside.
"Are you ok?" Oliver asked her as he checked her nose, to make sure that it wasn't broken.
Signed: Sigger!
"I don't believe it," she whispered. "How could this have happened?"
"Why don't you go and find out?" a voice behind her said in her ear.
"But I don't know how!" Peg cried, the pain of seeing all of her wonderful memories destroyed taking over her.
"Come, follow me, Peg," the man stepped in front of her and produced a hand out of his coat.
"Oliver... I'm scared..."
"There's nothing to be afriad of, Peg. I'm here for you."
So Peg took Oliver's hand and they set off to go backstage.
***
"Woah, I didn't think that it would still be there!" Peg shouted as she ran towards the small box on the other side of her old dressing room.
As she cradled it in her arms, Oliver stepped slowly up behind her and touched her shoulder.
"We need to finish it. Open it up.." he trailed off as her saw tears slowly falling down her cherry red cheeks.
Peg curled up in a ball, her short black hair falling over her face and covering her deep blue eyes, and opened it carefully. Music erupted out of the small, blue box as Oliver glimpsed the small ballerina twirling around and around. As he knelt down next to her, he ran his long, slender fingers through his tousled brown hair. Peg shivered as Oliver leaned in close to her body and wrapped his arms around her.
"I told you that you were safe. And you know that I never lie," he whispered reassuringly.
She closed her eyes tightly and mumbled something unintelligible, thinking hard about the memorys, trying to cast them away.
"I'm not going back to..." Peg trailed off, averting her eyes towards the other side of the dressing room. A scream erupted through the weak and crippled walls. Peg stopped her violent sobbing and turned her head as she slowly began to stand up, still clutching the music box to her chest. Oliver jumped away, startled by her movement. Once he had recovered, Oliver stood up and offered a helping hand to Peg as she crawled to the cracked wooden door on the other side of the room.
"Thanks," she mumbled as she took his arm and pulled herself up.
He placed his hand on her shoulder and gently guided Peg to the door. When they reached it, she just stood there, stunned.
"Go on, you know you're going to have to do it sometime. The screams won't go away without someone to help them," Oliver said.
"I know, I know. But why can't you do it? Instead of me."
"You know why, Peg. Now go, before it's too late."
So she placed her hand on the golden doorknob and just as she was about to turn it, a knock came from the other side. Exactly where the scream had came from.
***
The door burst open, slamming against Peg's nose and crushing her against the wall. Oliver rushed to her aid, pushing the door closed and prising her away from the wall. A fresh scream came and passed them as a small child ran through the doorway and lay crumpled next to the music box that had fallen from Peg's grasp when she was pushed aside.
"Are you ok?" Oliver asked her as he checked her nose, to make sure that it wasn't broken.
Signed: Sigger!
Cats
Cats are smarter than we give them credit for. For example, my cat (Maddy) knows when I need someone to be there for me. Once when I was really upset, I walked into my room and there she was. It was like she was waiting to cheer me up. And it worked. Another time, when we were chopping up our piano (don’t ask), the lid was open and Maddy jumped up onto it, making a huge sound. As soon as she heard it she leaped back and then carried on. But this time, instead of walking on the keys, she placed her paws gently on either side of them. So that there wouldn’t be any disturbance. So do you see now? They are quite smart. And this is coming from the cat that gets called the most dumb cat on the planet sometimes. So imagine what other cats are like.
But never forget. They may be smart, but they were born killers. And with a swipe of their killer claws, you could be scarred forever. So never underestimate their power.
Signed: Sigger!
TRUE STORY
The Worst Feeling
Most would say, the feeling that you were going to or supposed to die. I disagree. Yes, sure. They are awful feelings. But they’re not the worst. The worst feeling is when you feel like your mother would be happier dead. Because you see her and she’s sad. When you’re joking around she suddenly turns serious and looks like she’s holding back tears. I don’t think anyone can imagine that feeling. But I don’t have to.
Signed: Sigger!TRUE STORY
Friday, March 23, 2007
Fake a Smile - Prologue:
The girl lay where she fell. She wore faded jeans and a black hooded jacket. Her head rang from the blow she had received. Her long pale hair billowed out on the dry, browning lawn beneath her. There were dark circles under her soft brown eyes, and she was pale under her tan. She brought one hand up to her face, using it to cool her hot cheek.
“Get up.” a low, harsh voice whispered from above her.
The girl looked up, but it was too dark to make out more than the man’s silhouette. Not that it mattered. She already knew who he was.
She looked past him, up into the night sky. The stars were weak, and there wasn’t any moon to speak of, allowing everything to be semi enveloped in darkness.
“I said, get UP!” the figure hissed, punctuating his sentence with a kick.
It connected solidly with her ribs, sending her sprawling. She rolled onto her stomach and started to crawl away, but his rough hand grabbed the back of her jacket, pulling her backwards and onto her knees.
The hand moved to her shoulder, grip tightening ever so slightly.
“Xylia…” he whispered, getting slowly to his knees behind her. “You know I don’t want to hurt you. I’m just… Well, you know how my temper is.”
She could feel him sitting down, imagining how his face was set, how later he would have to brush the dirt from the back of his own jeans, how the dark grey cotton of his shirt pulls tightly over his broad shoulders as he extends his other hand and-
The mans other hand gently tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, away from her smarting cheek.
And then he’s bringing her back, placing her into his lap like you would a toddler, stroking her hair, hand moving from her shoulder to wrap her in his arm, and has kissed her quickly on the neck.
“Just do as I say, sweetie,” he murmurs into her ear, blue eyes catching light drifting through the fence from the next house on. “Do what I ask you to when there’s something I want you to do.”
The girls’ face was as blank as that of the porcelain doll which it so much resembled.
“Don’t argue and fight with me.”
The girls’ breathing quickened, rushing oxygen to her brain in painful gusts.
“And don’t…”
He faltered, hand falling away from the girls’ long fair hair.
don’t tell mummy don’t tell her what you do to me
The man stood up abruptly, letting the girl slip limply from his lap. The sound of an engine, which was suddenly killed, and a car door being opened then closed.
“Mummy’s back.”
She spoke only two words, but they were enough to jolt him back reality and send him scampering.
He jogged swiftly up to the back porch, skipping the steps entirely and eased himself into the warm house, closing the previously open back door behind him.
She got shakily to her feet, the girl in faded jeans and a black hooded jacket. Dusted herself off. Patted at the dirt halfheartedly.
i hate him i wish he were dead
She walked purposefully round to the side of the house, where she had seen their shadowy outlines through the kitchen window all the way from the backyard.
Signed: K.O.D
“Get up.” a low, harsh voice whispered from above her.
The girl looked up, but it was too dark to make out more than the man’s silhouette. Not that it mattered. She already knew who he was.
She looked past him, up into the night sky. The stars were weak, and there wasn’t any moon to speak of, allowing everything to be semi enveloped in darkness.
“I said, get UP!” the figure hissed, punctuating his sentence with a kick.
It connected solidly with her ribs, sending her sprawling. She rolled onto her stomach and started to crawl away, but his rough hand grabbed the back of her jacket, pulling her backwards and onto her knees.
The hand moved to her shoulder, grip tightening ever so slightly.
“Xylia…” he whispered, getting slowly to his knees behind her. “You know I don’t want to hurt you. I’m just… Well, you know how my temper is.”
She could feel him sitting down, imagining how his face was set, how later he would have to brush the dirt from the back of his own jeans, how the dark grey cotton of his shirt pulls tightly over his broad shoulders as he extends his other hand and-
The mans other hand gently tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, away from her smarting cheek.
And then he’s bringing her back, placing her into his lap like you would a toddler, stroking her hair, hand moving from her shoulder to wrap her in his arm, and has kissed her quickly on the neck.
“Just do as I say, sweetie,” he murmurs into her ear, blue eyes catching light drifting through the fence from the next house on. “Do what I ask you to when there’s something I want you to do.”
The girls’ face was as blank as that of the porcelain doll which it so much resembled.
“Don’t argue and fight with me.”
The girls’ breathing quickened, rushing oxygen to her brain in painful gusts.
“And don’t…”
He faltered, hand falling away from the girls’ long fair hair.
don’t tell mummy don’t tell her what you do to me
The man stood up abruptly, letting the girl slip limply from his lap. The sound of an engine, which was suddenly killed, and a car door being opened then closed.
“Mummy’s back.”
She spoke only two words, but they were enough to jolt him back reality and send him scampering.
He jogged swiftly up to the back porch, skipping the steps entirely and eased himself into the warm house, closing the previously open back door behind him.
She got shakily to her feet, the girl in faded jeans and a black hooded jacket. Dusted herself off. Patted at the dirt halfheartedly.
i hate him i wish he were dead
She walked purposefully round to the side of the house, where she had seen their shadowy outlines through the kitchen window all the way from the backyard.
Signed: K.O.D
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Sudden Death For Her
The girl walked onto the road, watching one side. The car came so quickly, she didn’t know what was happening. Luckily, it missed her. The driver poked his head out of the window and started to say sorry, all she could do was smile and nod her head. Showing that she didn’t mind. All of her thoughts were scattered across her brain. And she was sure, that she was meant to have died. She just knew it...
Signed: Sigger!
TRUE STORY
Friday, February 16, 2007
Trigger
I’m alone in the room. No one there to stop me from crying. No one there to stop me from dying. Pain so deep it can’t be expressed in words. My heart beats so fast, I can’t keep up with it. My breathing slows as I grip the gun tighter. Slowly bringing it to my head the tears start to flow down my cheeks, as if they have a mind of their own. I rest it on my temple and pull the trigger. Nothing comes out but a small clicking sound. The gun drops to the ground as I lie there, sobbing uncontrollably. I hear my parents car pull up. I just don’t care if they find out anymore. If they see me crying, the gun lying next to my head. They should have noticed earlier. They should have helped me. My so called ‘friends’ were never there for me. If they were there for me, they would have noticed that I was depressed. That I was going to die.
Signed: Sigger!Waves: chapter 1
The white foam of the waves is said to be the souls of dead mermaids. As they touch the shore, they go to paradise and live forever in peace. Do I believe that? I don’t know. I guess it just makes me feel safe in the water. My sister, Aleena, is terrified of the water. She won’t go anywhere near it. I don’t know why.
“Saskia! Kom hier over!” Saskia! Come over here! My mother calls to me.
“Wij zullen zijn laat als u zich niet haast!” We will be late if you do not hurry!
“Volgende moeder!” Coming mother! I shout back across the dunes. Hoping my voice makes it to her.
“Kom, Aleena. De moeder zal omhoog uw hulpverpakking ons toestel nodig hebben.” Come along, Aleena. Mother will need your help packing up our gear. Aleena ignores me and keeps on building her sand castle. She can be very frustrating at times.
“Aleena! Ga hulpmoeder, nu!” Aleena! Go help mother, now! I yell in her ear.
“Boete, boete! Ik zal gaan! Maar u moet eveneens helpen.” Fine, fine! I will go! But you have to help as well. She screams back as she trudges away and out of site. I choose to ignore her, and take a quick swim in the ocean, one last time. We only ever get to go once a year.
Signed: Sigger!
“Saskia! Kom hier over!” Saskia! Come over here! My mother calls to me.
“Wij zullen zijn laat als u zich niet haast!” We will be late if you do not hurry!
“Volgende moeder!” Coming mother! I shout back across the dunes. Hoping my voice makes it to her.
“Kom, Aleena. De moeder zal omhoog uw hulpverpakking ons toestel nodig hebben.” Come along, Aleena. Mother will need your help packing up our gear. Aleena ignores me and keeps on building her sand castle. She can be very frustrating at times.
“Aleena! Ga hulpmoeder, nu!” Aleena! Go help mother, now! I yell in her ear.
“Boete, boete! Ik zal gaan! Maar u moet eveneens helpen.” Fine, fine! I will go! But you have to help as well. She screams back as she trudges away and out of site. I choose to ignore her, and take a quick swim in the ocean, one last time. We only ever get to go once a year.
Signed: Sigger!
Hello!
Hey guys! Because, for some weird, unknown reason, Writers' Window isn't working for me, I've decided to make a writers' blog! If any of you are interested in joining this little club thing, then leave a comment with your writing and I'll post it on this blog, giving full credit to you (of course). And if you want a catchy username, just leave it with your then on use that instead of your name. Hope you have fun!
P.S. None of these stories are true unless I have told you that they are. If your story is true and you want people to know it, then please tell me when you post it. Thank you!
P.S. None of these stories are true unless I have told you that they are. If your story is true and you want people to know it, then please tell me when you post it. Thank you!
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