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Writing > Make your own writing folder thingy!

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message 1: by [deleted user] (new)

anyone write stories or Poetry? if you do share it here!


message 2: by [deleted user] (new)

Im working on a story for a christian writing contest. this is what i have so far.


message 3: by [deleted user] (new)

I’ll start at the beginning. Sound good? I’m Amber. A Mormon girl that had her entire world turned back on track by a single girl who had it off bad. I was in high school at the time. I was doing things I knew I shouldn’t and hanging out with the wrong crowd. Most Mormons weren’t like me. I was what you good call a girl who got into to much trouble and embarrassed most people associated with her. But I had my reasons. I was a light rebel-punk kinda girl. Not like law breaking or whatever, but definitely got a scowl from every teacher.
I had wavy black hair that I had dyed blonde streaks into. It was Sunday so I was getting ready for church. I put on dark purple eye shadow and gold eyeliner. I chose a rich black mascara and a bronze blush. I pick out a black denim dress and a black rhinestone short sleeve jacket. And accompanied my outfit with high heel sandals, black patterned leggings, couple clanky black bracelets, and a small black choker necklace. Not typical church stuff but I didn’t care. This was my style.
“Amber! You almost ready?! We’re gonna be late!” my mom called up the stairs. I sighed and went down calling, “Coming, mama bear!”
I got down stairs and mom shakes her head in disapproval. I knew she secretly was embarrassed by me. Embarrassed I wasn’t more like the other young women at church. I knew she had always been embarrassed that I was her daughter. I had never been super model pretty, or genius smart, or a musical prodigy, or a natural born athlete like other kids. I never tried to be a rock star. I never played with dollies or had many friends. I wasn’t a public speaker or a leader. Never tried out for school plays. Never been something to be proud of, and all she waned was a girl who was amazing at something. She didn’t care who I was, just what I could or couldn’t do.
I brush past mom and passes through by the den. My dad wasn’t a member of the church. He wasn’t even a Christian. You getting a feel for how messed up my life is? Or why I chose to become a light rebel-punk? Or why it drives me nuts that my mom practically worships the other girls in young women’s? Or why half the time I’m wishing somebody understood why I did things most Mormons disagreed with? I’ll put it simply. My mom would never even glance at me if I didn’t do something and my dad, well; I’m still trying to figure out what it will take to get him to take a chill pill and stop screaming at us every time he spoke.
I got in the car and buckled up. Mom got in the front seat in her full-length maxi purple dress and black long sleeve jacket. She began the drive to church. I dreaded getting there and mom putting on the charm and then the entire youth program, young women’s AND young men’s, swarming me and saying, “How do you hate your mom? She’s so nice!” It makes me gag when I hear that. They haven’t seen her toss me around like a sack of garbage at home. She was mean and didn’t care a lick about her only child.
I got there and sat in the back pew. I listened to people’s talks and tried to find one that would give me all the answers on how to fix my jacked up world. Sometimes, I’ll be honest with you, I had thought of killing myself to escape, but then I remembered the commandment, “Thou shalt not kill,” and assumed it meant yourself included.
Mom sat beside me writing down things for work tomorrow. It looked like she was taking notes at first glance, but really she paid no attention. She came for how it made her look. That’s it. That was why she did everything she did. It was always an act. Except at home. That’s when her true colors showed. No wonder dad seemed to hate us now. It made sense he hid in the den till you made him angry. It was better than forcing himself to admit he had a family as messed up as his.
Soon it was time for young women’s class. I hoped I’d get lucky and get to class before, “Amber! Hey!” Too late. Calele was chasing after me, gorgeous blonde curls flowing behind her. She wore an elegant purple knee length dress with a matching bow and sash. I groaned, “Why weren’t you at the youth activity last night? It was so fun! You totally missed out.”
“I was busy and didn’t want to go,” I replied. In truth I had been at home crying while my dad screamed at mom in their usual fights. I couldn’t drive yet so I had been stuck at home. Dad had slapped me because I had tried to get him to sign a permission slip to run for class president. He had said, “Why the heck would anyone want a girl like you as class president?!” His words had stung but she would never tell him. Or anybody else.
“Well, do you think you can come this week? It’s gonna ROCK!” she was too smiley for a girl in my world. How could she be so happy when I was hurting so much?
“I don’t know,” I continued walking to class hoping she would shut up and leave me alone. She didn’t have a clue who I was or what I went through.
“Please try. We all hate it when you don’t come,” she whined. I knew that was the biggest lie I had ever heard. I knew all had a ball when I wasn’t there. I was no idiot.
“I don’t know,” we got to class and I sat down away from all the other girls. She went and with all her friends on the other side of the room. I paid attention to the lesson and what the teacher said. Calele, Jamie, Cardith, and Merida all talked and whispered. They paid a little bit of attention and participated but you could tell they’d forget by next week. Tabitha, Grace, Lucia, Monique, Hannah, and Rachel all listened intently and took notes and hand their hand up for every question. I was the only girl in here with a half member family. Jamie and Rachel were sisters and their families were converts, but still would never understand how it felt to have a actress of a mom and a non-member dad.
Towards the end of the lesson Sister Tennels got up with an important announcement. She was the young women’s president. “I hope many of you noticed Carrie was missing lately,” I had. She normally sat over with Calele, Jamie, and them, “Her mom recently left her dad after finding out that he lost his job. Her dad has continued going to church. Her younger brother was diagnosed with cancer and is undergoing chemotherapy. Her older sister is away at seminar school three states away. I want to girls in the ninth grade to go and check up on her. Try to bring her back to church over the next few days.” I was in the ninth grade and I felt so bad for Carrie. In a way, I could relate. In a way, I knew how she must be feeling. In a way, “Amber can you? And Monique? Your in Carrie’s grade, right?” I nodded. Monique was a quiet African American girl with long pretty straight hair and an athletic build. Today she wore a short sleeved orange dress that was creased in a few places.
Monique nodded. I would give anything for her life. Her parents never fought had tremendous faith and were really nice. Monique’s family had a large house and lots of money but they were still really nice. Monique had high standards and lots of faith. She always was selfless and was there when you needed her. She was amazing at every. Oh, how I wished I could be her.
“Ok. You to work out when you can go to her house,” Sister Tennels said. I sighed. I wanted to help her but I didn’t. I was afraid I would just make everything else worse for her. It was probably the only thing I was good at. Messing up.
She let everyone go and Calele and friends immediately began laughing and talking loud enough for everyone to hear. I walked over to Monique, “So, uh, when should we go over to Carrie’s?”
“4 o’clock tomorrow after school work for you?” she asked brightly.
“Think so, ya,” I said. My parents might pose a potential problem though. They could keep me home, or fight, or I could piss dad off in the next 24 hours.
“See you then!” She said brightly as she went to pick up Joseph, her little brother from the sunbeams class.
I took my time getting all my stuff together. Double checking, and triple check I had everything. Until I couldn’t put it off any longer. I went to find my mom and go home to Nightmare land. I found her by the front door tapping her foot a cold stare in her eyes, “What in the world took you so long, Amber?”
“I have to visit Carrie tomorrow at 4,” I said. I believed everything they taught here and I had faith God could do anything; I just didn’t know how to escape all this. This world I called my life. This mess of my family and my lack of friends at school. Combined with my mass of enemies.
“Why? Why would she want you at her house?” My mom’s words stung but I pretended I didn’t care. I was always pretending around her nowadays.
“Because she hasn’t been coming lately and Sister Tennels wants me and Monique to visit her,” I replied.
Something like an obvious understanding crossed my mother’s face. Like that new information had told her the answer, “I understand now. She wanted Monique there to make her feel better and bring her back to church and you there to let her know that at least she isn’t you.”
Those sharp painful words were sadly familiar to me. And she would never say them if anyone else but me had been there. She would have pretended that she was happy for me and would make sure I got there until we got home before the insults began to rain on me. Then I would hold these tears till I got to my room. I still would.


message 4: by [deleted user] (new)

((heres more. it was too long for one post))

I walked past her silently, fighting tears as usual. I wished I had somehow built up an immunity to her daily insults of stupid, and a demon, and a regret, and a mistake, and the reason my dad avoids us. The reason he let the church. She always said crap like that so offhandedly. So easily. And she smirked at the unshed tears she saw in my eyes, daring me to scream at her and get grounded. She hated me and I couldn’t do a thing about it. “Honor thy father and mother,” was the only reason and hadn’t ran away. The only reason I put up with this bullying. The only reason I ever listened to my mother. I climbed in the passenger seat of the last car in the parking lot. A lime green Mercedes. My mom hated the way it drove and the color and only drove it for looks.
We got home and I went straight to my room. I dropped my stuff and plunged straight into my pillow, burying my face in it’s tear stained softness and cried. It was nothing new but I hated it. I hated how the one place everyone at church should be a mini heaven on Earth was the one place I felt the worst.
I didn’t bother to change. I just lay there hurting at the words my mom had said. After a few hours I cried myself to sleep.

__________________________________________ .o0O0o. _____________________________________________

I woke up the next morning, dreading the day already. My mom was going to give her usual disdain and at school Tyler was going to tease me and pick on me as usual. I’d probably get landed with detention and almost be late to Carrie’s. My usual day. A thought crossed my mind. How many people would leave her alone if they knew what she faced at home?
I dragged myself out of bed honestly hoping to be late for school. I got out and took a super long shower, took my time gelling obvious layers to my hair, and tried on everything in my closet just to find something,
I eventually chose a black spaghetti strap with a black lace top on top and some black jeans. I picked out some black boots to go with. I did my make up dark and heavy.
I went down stairs and poured cereal. Mom was already picking a fight with Dad. I ate quickly. Dad’s anger was one thing I wanted to avoid at all costs. I finished my breakfast as fast as I could and grabbed my bike. I heard my dad yelling as I closed the garage behind me. I biked to school wondering what ingenious knew way of humiliation Tyler would think of today. He was a big burly kid who was technically way over weight, but it just made him scarier. He was six feet tall and loved his leather jacket and jeans almost as much as he liked my when I had a black eye. Let me tell you he liked that black eye part a LOT.
I parked my bike and went to homeroom. I had all my stuff that I needed till lunch in my bag. I always planned it that way. I sat down in the very back row as far from the teacher as I could get. Frowning at the memory of this morning combined with yesterday. I wished so bad it would all just end. Most kids wanted to grow up to be free and be cool. I wanted to grow up to get away from the memories of a rotten childhood.
The bell rang and kids flooded in, traveling in packs. First the cheerleaders, gossiping and giggling. Calele was among them. Then the football jocks. My crush, Joshua Stewart, was the linebacker for the team, so he was with them. Then the chess club. Then the super smart yet still really cool and pretty girls came in. Monique was with them. And so on until Tyler and his gang of torturers came in last.
I noticed the only seats left were the ones surrounding me. Oh. Crap. Tyler made sure to take the one right next to me with a devilish grin on his face. I was already burying my face in my hands. I was dead, so dead. If I was in less than three pieces by the end of class, it’d be a miracle. Tyler slugged me across my shoulder and it hurt like crazy, “Yo, girl. Why ain’t’cha lookin’ outta your hands? Got a problem with me sittin’ here?”
I wanted to say yes but I knew he’d just hurt me more if I did so I stayed silent. He slugged my shoulder again, harder, “I asked you a question.”
“N-n-no,” I stammered rubbing my shoulder. I knew it would be black and purple by lunch.
“Good,” Tyler smirked as he punched me again. This time across the face. Tears welled in my eyes. I wiped my eyes but my face still felt like it was on fire. Why did he have to pick on me? What had I ever done to him? I didn’t think anything.
Class started and I tried to ignore all the times he elbowed my stomach hard enough to make me gag. I tried to focus on my work but he was determined to make me miserable. And to make me hurt all over. Ugh. Today was off to a worse start than usual. I wished I could be anywhere else in the world.
Finally class ended a million sores later. I turned my work in and booked it to math. Sadly, Tyler got to me before I got to class, “Why, you runnin’, punk?”
I was so sick of him picking on me, “Maybe so I can get away from you and your fists of fury!”
He glared at me and slugged me smack in the face. I could already feeling my right swelling. I glared back, “You have no clue what you doing. You have no clue who your hurting.” I turned and ran for the girl’s bathroom. I saw a flicker of guilt or amusement, I couldn’t tell, cross Tyler’s face.
I reached the bathroom and looked in a mirror. My right eye was swollen shut. It was purple and black. I wished that I could have one good day. All I asked for was one good day. I didn’t understand what I was doing so wrong in my life. I grabbed my bag and made it to math.
I sat down in the back, away from Tyler and his gang all sitting by some poor nerdy guy with red hair. Jace, my crush, walked in. He sat by me and asked, “Is your eye ok? I don’t understand why Tyler is always beating you up.” I was stunned. He never talked to me. Maybe my prayers for a good day were finally coming true.
“Ya. Kinda. It hurts really bad though. And my sides are sore and so is my shoulder from math,” I replied. He was gorgeous. Her had messy chocolate brown hair and eyes to match. Today he wore a white t-shirt and gray jeans that tapered a bit at the bottom. He looked like he should be singing at concerts in L.A.


message 5: by [deleted user] (new)

Ok... since the post take up like a whole page thingy make your own folder with your own writing... i think that will work better


message 6: by [deleted user] (new)

Niks {*loads gun and shoots*} wrote: "Ok... since the post take up like a whole page thingy make your own folder with your own writing... i think that will work better"

ok lol


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