Lesson 1: Share Your Writing

by Nancy

Share your 10-minute writing for Lesson 1, and read what other writers have done.

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Comments for Lesson 1: Share Your Writing

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Feb 12, 2012
 wondering
by: Anonymous

any one still posting here?
Feb 12, 2012
 wondering
by: Anonymous

any one still posting here?
Feb 12, 2012
 wondering
by: Anonymous

any one still posting here?
Apr 29, 2011
 writing exercise 042911
by: Joseph F. Mazzaferro

Exercise #


Hospital.


Compose a piece of reasonable length
that Reveals the setting discribed above









Mar 05, 2011
 monkey dream
by: stacie

We were helping my dad and uncle with something in the back of the truck in the backyard. The yard was full if weeds and grass. So you could not see what was hiding and waiting.

My uncle just got done telling everyone to watch out for the monkeys. He didn't tell us they were monkey people however. I had my back turned not paying any attention to the grass.

Out popped a boy and girl monkey people. They scared the holy shit out of me. At first they didn't come at me right away, so i let my guard down. And turned around, went back to what i was previously doing. The next thing i feel a horrible pain on my shoulder, saw blood run down my arm. In a split second i was one of them.

Some other humans came started spitting on us. I'm in shock because im a monkey person and getting spit on.

One man told us why He said "Only a immune persons spit can change you back. Then he went on to tell us what he meant by immune person. Immune person is someone who was turned into a monkey person and turned back to human. Only their spit can change you back."

Mar 05, 2011
 monkey dream
by: stacie

We were helping my dad and uncle with something in the back of the truck in the backyard. The yard was full if weeds and grass. So you could not see what was hiding and waiting.

My uncle just got done telling everyone to watch out for the monkeys. He didn't tell us they were monkey people however. I had my back turned not paying any attention to the grass.

Out popped a boy and girl monkey people. They scared the holy shit out of me. At first they didn't come at me right away, so i let my guard down. And turned around, went back to what i was previously doing. The next thing i feel a horrible pain on my shoulder, saw blood run down my arm. In a split second i was one of them.

Some other humans came started spitting on us. I'm in shock because im a monkey person and getting spit on.

One man told us why He said "Only a immune persons spit can change you back. Then he went on to tell us what he meant by immune person. Immune person is someone who was turned into a monkey person and turned back to human. Only their spit can change you back."

Mar 03, 2011
 Not Going Back
by: Amanda Rey

I'm walking back to the motel at about 1 a.m. I'm completely alone --- except for the person tailing me. I hear their footsteps. They want me to know they’re there. They think they can take me after all this time. They think they’re smarter or better than me. I’ll show them.
I turn into a dead end alley way. I stop, keeping my back to the person turning the corner right after me. They laugh, I smile. I wait for them to get close enough to strike. When their only feet away I turn and kick them in the gut. It’s a man; he doubles over in shock and pain. I don’t stop there.
Mar 03, 2011
 Not Going Back
by: Amanda Rey

I'm walking back to the motel at about 1 a.m. I'm completely alone --- except for the person tailing me. I hear their footsteps. They want me to know they’re there. They think they can take me after all this time. They think they’re smarter or better than me. I’ll show them.
I turn into a dead end alley way. I stop, keeping my back to the person turning the corner right after me. They laugh, I smile. I wait for them to get close enough to strike. When their only feet away I turn and kick them in the gut. It’s a man; he doubles over in shock and pain. I don’t stop there.
Feb 01, 2011
 Robyn
by: Robyn

Lesson 1/ 10 minute Exercise
I am walking down a dark and lonely street and I hear quiet footsteps behind me. I start walking a bit quicker with my heart pounding. Then I notice a tap tap sound. Does this person have something in their hand like a bat or a hammer that they are tapping? I am frightened. I should have listened to Sally and Paul who said to wait for them and share a taxi with them. No I said, I will be fine. Famous last words. The footsteps seem to be getting closer and closer. Will I just turn around and front this person, or hope they will just go away. I can still hear the tap tap noise. Oh my god, what will I do? If I decide to run will they run too. Footsteps and tap tap still following me as I come to a corner. Will I turn or keep going straight? I decide to turn but the footsteps and the tap tap turn as well. I get a few steps around the corner and decide to confront my follower. I swing my handbag and scream as I am prepared to make a run for it. Imagine my surprise to see a blind man with his cane very politely asking me if I am ok. I feel very stupid and say something about stubbing my toe. Next time I think I will share that taxi with my friends.
The End
Jan 26, 2011
 This is my short story I wrote for lesson 1
by: Theresa Grefer

Black, the color of my tight leather attire; I wear it because I wanted to go out with a bang, no pun intended. At least in black I could pretend I was a government spy fighting for a cause bigger than myself. What bigger cause did I have now? Now that… well… never mind. I got my first facial and massage today. The old lady was slightly creepy. "hello dear..." she said with a twitch in her eye. I hate to seem prejudice or something but honestly, she looked like a lonely cat-lady, like Emily Dickens, who never leaves her house and watches peoples intimacy from her window without them realizing it. It was a shock to me that anyone would ever want to haveher massage their bodies, I couldn't even believe that I didn't run away just at the sight of her, witches warts and all. But I suppose it didn't matter anyway since I don't have much longer to cringe at the experience.
Once home I took a six hour warm bath in hopes of cleansing my body and soul. I wanted to look good in the casket, like a fallen angel from the sky. So I got my nails done for the first time, a crimson black to symbolize the blood that would coat my pale body. I had it all planned out. It was like a devils wedding day. I even dyed my hair black with red tips and streaks falling down the front.
I draped a veil over my whole body to feel less naked for the courage to pull through with the vision in my mind. The veil seemed to give comfort and symbolize an end. My walls, once covered with frames of my partner and I, are now covered with black lit candles. Strings attach me to the candles as a grand finale... I suppose. My fiancé would be at work until five. It is two o’clock. By the time he arrives the deed will be done. Now for my shiny black savior. I hold the heavy gun in my hand and caress it like a long lost lover. Julian gave it to me as a birthday present.
He had finally brought me shooting as he promised and ever since then we go shooting every Saturday morning. It is a good outlet and he claims I am a natural. “The way you shoot is as if the revolver and you are one, soul mates; It is only an extension of your body,” he would say. I loved when he talked at me like that. His eyes glistened like rare diamonds in a cave. His smile would broaden and I would feel his warm hand wrap around my waist to pull me close to his body and his lips would softly tease by barely touching mine just enough to make me force myself upon him.
These are the memories I will miss, I reckon, but the pain is just too much. I can’t have people living for me, injecting happiness as if it is a drug. If I cannot store it inside my soul then I will never truly be happy.
Jan 25, 2011
 Late Night Encounter
by: Yvonne

The evening was balmy, dark yet peaceful. The breeze blowing off the water was salty and I could taste the salt on my lips as I walked. The boardwalk was deserted and I could hear the waves softly breaking on the beach as I walked. As I stopped and looked over the water the reflection of the moon on the water was brilliant and as the water softly moved the light followed its movement.
I stopped to sit on the bench and contemplate the last few hours. I was totally exhausted. The preparations for the party had worn me out completely. Now that it was over I was able to feel the effects of the work on me. After all the work the party had went well as a whole. I was a success! Why wasn’t I happy and fulfilled? What was missing?
Sitting there I came to realize the stillness of the night had been broken. As sound I couldn’t readily identify echoed in my brain. As I listened I recognized the sounds of feet coming my way. No one was around. Butterflies began to gather in my stomach as the steps increased in sound and came closer and closer. My skin began to tingle becoming prickly with anticipation and fright. All of a sudden the night air was cold and I was chilled to the bone. The steps were getting louder and louder, closer and closer.
Looking around for someone else to see if I was imagining the steps, I noticed a bright light in the direction of the steps. As the steps grew louder the light got brighter. I couldn’t associate the two with anything I knew. It didn’t make any sense and my uneasiness and fright increased. As the light got brighter and brighter a strange phenomena began to happen. Instead of being more scared I began to feel a peace deep within. Out of the light a shape began to form as it grew closer. It was an odd shape, not human, but slightly recognizable. What was that shape? In my state of mind I couldn’t make the connection.
Oh, no! I had heard of things like this but never in my wildest dreams would I have believed it would happen to me. What could this creature want with me? I am certainly nothing special. As he approached he said to me “Rest my child your protection is complete.” He then spread his wings around me and I slept.
Jan 25, 2011
 To Meher Ansari
by: Freddy

Meher,I was the one who wrote the coment about
out'dhuck dhee'my peice is Late Night Departure.Check that one out if you can,okay?
Jan 25, 2011
 To Anonymous
by: Meher Ansari

Hi Anonymous,

Thanks for your comments. I too feel 'dhuck dhee' is funny. still i cannot think of a suitable sound. Honestly i would welcome any suggestion from you or in fact any readers.

i have gone through your piece. it's beautiful. i thought i was watching a movie! i love it.

BTW i also thought your character was trying to reach for the sun.why did she walk all night perhaps more as her hurtful shoes suggest, just to reach the top of the hill and see the sun? Sorry if i sound rude but after making me share her pain and struggle, that you did so beautifully, i would expect the sun to reveal something....

I would like to say once again it's a beautiful piece.
Jan 25, 2011
 Lesson 1
by: Brian

Elizabeth was walking home down Thompson Street at 3:15 AM thinking through the events of her evening. It had been a pleasant night except for the creep who had been staring at her all night. She had first seen him at the Tapas bar where she and her friends had enjoyed a pleasant meal and then she saw him at The Milk Bar – a groovy little nightclub just off Darlinghurst Road.

It was a warm evening, not a cloud in the sky and almost no noise except that gentle buzz of traffic in the background. The air smelt faintly of the crime of a large city but this was overshadowed by the smell of stale beer emanating from her jacket which this drunken creep had spilt on her while stumbling across the dance floor – what a creep!

She became aware of some footsteps behind her and began to wonder if someone was following her. It was definitely a male or a big powerful woman – she could tell by the stride. Was it just another person walking home, was it the creep from the nightclub or was it just another late-night reveller heading home?

Elizabeth decided to start walking quicker to see what happened but the footsteps behind her sped up to keep pace with her. Her heart started to race and her stomach felt like she had just tried a can of lemonade too quickly. Elizabeth started walking even quicker, almost a jog but the footsteps behind her quick to keep pace. Her heart was pounding so heavily in her chest that she feared it would explode. It was then she remembered the pocket knife she had used earlier that evening to cut an Apple and had left it in her pocket.

Elizabeth remembered her basketball coach from school days telling her that "the best form of defence is offence " and resolved to fight rather than be overpowered. She pulled the knife out of her pocket, bent open the blade with a thumbnail, stopped walking and turned around to confront her would be attacker holding the knife at waist height ready to attack!

Jan 24, 2011
 Snowdream
by: Indiana

Narrow path boarded by trees from both sides is leading to the arch in the high brick fence. Its snowing and branches are heavily hanging down under the thick lairs of snow creating kind of tunnel. It’s dark but there is a light coming from the arch. The light reflected by the wet from melted snow road projects an illuminating path becoming less and less visible the further it goes into the darkness of the street. She is just a black figure in the dark night heading direction of the arch but still a few hundreds feet away from where the light path starts. Behind the arch is her home and she wants nothing else but to reach the pillow. Darkness does not bothering her as she knows every bump at the road that she follows within last ten years. Random thoughts are passing through her head leaving no trail. Her only big desire is to go to bed. It’s so quite that she can hear her own high hills clanking. One, two, three, one, two, three.
Very clear and evenly rhythmic echo is accompanying her by quiet tapping. Eventually it loses the pace. She breaks the breath unconsciously alarmed before realizing what is wrong. Now the echo is living at its own. It someone’s else steps that accompany her in the darkness. She stops and listening intense. She is being able to hear her breath and heart beating. She stays like that for a while. There is no other sound she can detect. Chill goes along her spine reaches the brain and activates logic. She explains herself that it’s all because of her nerves overstretched by hard and long working hours. Corners of her dry lips even move a bit up showing a hint of smile as if she would be laughing at herself fool and the overall banality of the situation. Her memory rapidly listing endless scenes from movies and books where people were followed. She is wondering how it comes that such smart and strong girl like her can overreact so ordinary.
And this is when it happens. Someone heavily drops the hand on her shoulder. Her heart stops and bright flash blowing her mind. Next second she is half way through the distance keeping her away from the light at that end of the arch. It is the only remaining hope for her. She does not care any more neither about the high hills no the way she looks no the perception she makes. She is reaching the illuminating path and following it into the arch not daring to listen or stop or look back. Her breath and hear are out of order. Mouth dry and spine wet. Heart beating is almost visibly pumping the blood through the entire body. She does not remember that moment when she eventually realizes that it was the snowball falling from the tree that hit her shoulder.
Jan 24, 2011
 To Meher Ansari
by: Anonymous

I read your piece,Meher and I just loved it.The way that it made me laugh.But I've never heard the sound "dhuck dhee"before.LMAO.I don't mean to be rude.I know that has nothing to do with it.But really you gave your story a neat twist.I hope you've read my piece to.
Jan 24, 2011
 To Meher Ansari
by: Anonymous

I read your piece,Meher and I just loved it.The way that it made me laugh.But I've never heard the sound "dhuck dhee"before.LMAO.I don't mean to be rude.I know that has nothing to do with it.But really you gave your story a neat twist.I hope you've read my piece to.
Jan 24, 2011
 To Meher Ansari
by: Anonymous

To Meher Ansari
by Fred Siracuse
I read your piece,Meher and I just loved it.The way that it made me laugh.But I must say I've never heard the sound"dhuck dhee"before LMAO.I don't mean to be rude.I know that has nothing to do with it.But really,you gave your story a neat twist,I thought.I hope you've read my piece to.
Jan 24, 2011
 To Meher Ansari
by: Anonymous

To Meher Ansari
by Fred Siracuse
I read your piece,Meher and I just loved it.The way that it made me laugh.But I must say I've never heard the sound"dhuck dhee"before LMAO.I don't mean to be rude.I know that has nothing to do with it.But really,you gave your story a neat twist,I thought.I hope you've read my piece to.
Jan 24, 2011
 lesson 1
by: sarah

i just finished practicing for my schools big swim meet that is in 6 days i was heading for the parking lot when i herd a loud bang like somebody was shot. i looked aroud the school grounds i got half around the school when i saw my swim coach and 3 of my classmates laing on the ground dead. then i hurd another loud sound but before i could turn to see who it was i hit the ground hard. that is all that i rember couse when i came to i had been shot in the head. the docters told my parents i whould never be abeal to take care of my self ever again
Jan 22, 2011
 To Freddy
by: Jade

I thank you for your comment. Gee I didn't realise I had a style yet. But yeah feel free to use whatever you feel you got out of my piece. I read and enjoyed your scene. You use language and imagery very well to create an atmosphere and set the mood. Happy Writing!
Jan 22, 2011
 To Kee
by: Meher Ansari

Hi Kee,
What a diappointment! I was expecting something to happen before you drove off; you prepared me so well.
Jan 22, 2011
 Late Night Departure
by: Freddy

My late night departure from the pub was anything but a rare occurence.Right down to the manner in wich I walked.A typical saturday night for me was about to conclude.Spring was trying to make it's arrival.The balmy air was chocked with fog and the steetlamps were the only thing that it couldn't subdue.I left the events of the evening behind me as I walked.I had conversation with some people that effected me in such a way and the pub was alive with it's usual caccophoney but the jukebox is the only thing that rand vividly in my head.My apartment was only a few blocks yonder but my drunken mode always bogged me down in my travels.A twelve pack of Budweiser in a brown paper bag was my takeout.Th lateness of the hour rendered the town dark and still.The fog had muffled it's sounds of life.This atmosphere had led me to believe I was alone and I moved on without caution.Some ten minutes had passed before a sound did finally surface.Heavy boots were making there steps and seemed to progress in my direction.Habitual partying is known to enhance unreasonable paranoia.This had long since made it's mark but I still held the sense to differ within my sights.Somebody was coming and they were coming towards me."Larry,is that you?"This person had made talk.I wasn't able to recognise there voice so I hesitated to turn around."What," I answered coldly."Whatcha doin',ya headin' home?"Feeling stupid,I was now aware.I hadn't seen Steve in some time.Not only did I now know who it was,I also new what they wanted."What's up Steve," I chuckeled."Come on up," he said.Well,my planes for goimg home were now altered and I was heading for visit with a good freind.
Jan 22, 2011
 Lesson 1
by: Sarah

Jenny’s heels clicked on the pavement as she hurried down the street. She needed to get home, she was late. She turned the corner onto West Avenue, the street was dark only one street light shone above her. Her thoughts of getting home, soaking in a tub came to mind. As the sound of footsteps behind her startled her, she increased her speed. The footsteps increased too. Her heart beat faster as she tightened the grip on her black leather bag. Taking a deep breath she steps down from the path, crosses the road and then up onto the next path. Stepping onto the path, her heel snaps, she stumbles. The footsteps closer, louder. Jenny screams as a hand touches her arm. She turns. A face beams at her, his free hand holding out her purse.
He had followed her to give it back to her. Relief washed over her as she took her purse from the man and thanked him.
Jan 22, 2011
 Assignment 1
by: Kee

Creative Writing Assignments: 1-21-2011
Assignment 1: Picture yourself walking down a lonely street and all of a sudden you realize that you’re being followed by quiet footsteps.

It was a cold Sunday night. I had just left my old college roommates place and was heading down the dark and lonely street toward my car. I suddenly noticed the sound of quiet footsteps not far behind. The sound and speed of the footsteps increased as I approached my vehicle. I turned to face the source of the footsteps to my surprise there was no one there. I was standing next to my vehicle keys drawn and expecting to find someone behind me, but after seeing no one there I just assumed it was my overactive imagination so I enter my car and head home.
Jan 22, 2011
 Just a little feedback
by: Freddy

I would like to make just a little comment to JADE and there written assignment for lesson one.Jade,I definitely envy your style.You do seem to have the nack for "sucking in the reader."I definitely want to try your aprroach (if you don't mind.)
Jan 21, 2011
 Lesson 1......Nervous.
by: Olivia

Ally walked home from her evening classes remembering what the teacher said about whatever he was talking about. She was four blocks from her house when she heard the 'Swoosh' of a cloak. Then the soft clip-clap of shoes. She wasn't scared, she just thought it was someone from class. The shoes picked up their pace, Ally looked behind her and saw a pale man following her. She knew it wasn't her teacher, her teacher was farely tan. And why would he be following her, he hated her. Ally started running. 3 blocks left, 2 blocks left. A shot rang through the night, Ally collapsed. Feeling warm blood run through her favorite blue shirt. The guy left Ally in the middle of the street waiting in a nearby window for the cops to show up and begin to wonder. And that was the end of it all.
Jan 21, 2011
 Lesson 1: Mirror image
by: Jade

It was the very wee hours of the morning and sunrise was still a few hours away. Not a sound could be heard in the town save for a subtle wind. The usually busy street was devoid of all life and the sounds of daily goings on were muted as the town’s inhabitants’ slept. The air was cold and crisp on my cheeks as I made my way to the end of the road and with it some welcome rest. The sound of my heels moving along the cobbled road was uneven and without a melody. The strap of my shoulder bag scratched against the polyester fabric of my piumino with every step. One of my gloved hands trailed my luggage behind me while the other was buried deep in my pocket.

It’s funny how a seemingly harmless road by day can be transformed into a place in which all manners of evil dwell by night. My eyes are focused on the ground and the forthcoming steps which I must take. I remember having this recurring nightmare as a child where I wake up to a world where I am the only person. Walking down this lonely street now I am instantly reminded of this dream. As it appears I could very well be the sole inhabitant of this little town. But no I must not think of such things. Soon I will be in my apartment and better still in my bed. I try to think what is was that the pilot said as we landed. I remember it being funny and everyone laughing but now I can’t remember what it was he said. A jolt of fear piques my spine and I feel suddenly colder. In such circumstances it is easy to get the feeling one is being followed. I feel contrasting emotions as I have the urge both to look behind me and yet not. I ,too, resist the urge to succumb to the flight reaction and run all the way home but with that said I hasten my steps. I begin to hum a quiet tune to myself and suddenly I freeze.

There was a definite footfall behind me just now. Not a very heavy one, mind you. There it is again. It could be a cat I try without success to reassure myself. This sets my mind to thinking, I actually have never seen a cat in this town. That strikes me as suddenly odd. But I am taken out of my contemplation of such matters by yet another distinct footfall. Above me the Christmas lights are dangling down as if the sky were raining lights instead of water. I wonder when they will be taking down these lights. It has been a month since Christmas. What utter garbage I am thinking. Then I hear my soft tune being whistled. A fleeting thought reminds me that I never learnt how to whistle. I decide that I will just turn around and contend with whoever or whatever is following me but before I can I feel cold hands lock around my neck.

I wake up feeling surprisingly fresh and make my way to the bathroom. I peer at myself in the mirror and as the early morning light infiltrates the bathroom I can see the faint marks of hand prints around my collar bone. I quietly whistle a familiar tune as I begin to wash my face.
Jan 20, 2011
 Reunion
by: Meher Ansari


Reunion
When I reached the dark lane I noticed a woman standing in shade near the entrance. She was tall; her long and straight hair fell on her broad shoulders. A long dress snugly fitted her heavy breasts and slim hips. She wore broad heeled shoes with dark socks. She appeared to be a seedy character waiting for a catch. I hurriedly entered the lonely lane as usual with no fear. It was safe. There was no one in front. There rarely was. The lane was short and blind and led only to the housing complex where I lived.
Dhuck, dhee ---, dhuck, dhee---, dhuck, dhee---. Somebody was limping behind me with heavy footsteps. I wouldn’t care but… dhuck, dhee---, dhuck, dhee, dhuck, dhee--- sounded familiar. This is how my childhood friend Jim walked, hitting one foot hard to gain balance and then dragging the polio casualty, waiting and again hitting … exactly the same. I eagerly turned back, only to be disappointed. The only person behind was the seedy woman her long straight hair almost hid her face. I thought of the short crop, curly top of Jim. He was handsome. I had not met him for years. He was a brilliant student, always helpful to everybody … idealistic and enthusiastically jumped to work for any cause that popped up. In the final year of school he had become very critical of the present government. I was impressed but teachers asked him to concentrate on his studies. One day he suddenly disappeared and never came back to school. Everybody missed him and I could never forget him.
Now this woman … ? Dhuck, dhee---, dhuck, dhee---, dhuck, … . Suddenly there were sounds of heavy boots behind, at the entrance. The woman quickened her limping and almost ran past me before the policemen reached her. They threw light on her face and pulled her wig down revealing the familiar curly top … .
Jan 19, 2011
 Footsteps Exercise
by: Patricia Price

I was walking down an old abandoned street when I heard quiet footsteps behind me. I walked faster and faster until a hand grabbed my shoulder. I quickly turned around only to find a police officer. He said, "Young lady,it isn't safe for someone like yourself to be walking these streets alone." I told the officer I was supposed to meet someone there.
Jan 18, 2011
 Exercise 1 (inspired by SK)
by: Rockin Rob

It was late evening and the rain had finally stopped.
He pulled the brim of his black homburg down over his brow and strolled, hands deep and snug in the pockets of his long grey cotton coat, down the narrow, winding alley. The wet cobblestones glistened beneath his feet.
He was heading for the plaza.
On either side, the high tenement blocks, with their French windows and wrought iron balconies, loomed over him, somehow hemming him in.
He heard footsteps behind him.
He stopped and glanced back over his shoulder.
The footsteps stopped. Further back up the alley, a tall figure stood silhouetted against the street lights from Main Street, watching him.
Shit! He was being followed.
He quickened his pace. The footsteps behind him quickened too.
He could see the welcoming lights of the plaza just 50 yards ahead.
He glanced behind him again, not daring to stop this time. The figure was closer,looming, threatening, nearly upon him.
He knew he wouldn't make it to the plaza. In desperation he tried one of the doors. It was locked. He tried another, and another, his hand fumbling, shaking.Come on! Please open!
He tried another. The cold brass knob turned in his hand, the latch clicked and the door opened inwards.
He stepped inside, slamming the door shut behind him and breathing a sigh of relief.
Jan 17, 2011
 Footsteps
by: Lynn P

FOOT STEPS
By Lynn

This was a new area for me and not somewhere I would normally choose to go. But I had promised Sheila I would be there for dinner at 8 o’clock and I knew that she would be going to some trouble to make the evening pleasant. A girls night she had said. Unfortunately, I had had to come by bus as there were no taxi’s available from the centre of town – typical for a Friday night, the demand on them was too high. I knew from my street map that I would have to walk down two streets but that shouldn’t prove too difficult. The only thing bothering me was the area – a bit rundown and noted for drug addicts. None to be seen so far, in fact the street I had just turned into was deserted. Just a couple of cars parked at the far end, though this was not surprising as several of the houses were boarded up and others were in darkness. The single street light threw some light at the beginning of the street, and as I passed beyond it, I was grateful for the shadows thrown by the moonlight from above. The air was cold and I could see the haw of my breath before me, though even this was to disappear. A cloud passed in front of the moon and total darkness prevailed. I quickened my pace and then I heard them. Soft foot steps behind me – quite close. Why had I not heard them before? I walked quicker still and tried not to let my thoughts become too negative. Other people have the right to walk down this street. You will soon be in another street and at the end of that, you will be with your friends. But my mind was too active, too vivid, just like when as I child I used to jump almost half way across the room onto my bed to avoid the crocodile lurking beneath it, waiting to jump out and chop off my legs. I walked even faster. The foot steps were still there, quicker too. Stop and look behind you, stop and look behind you, the fast rhythm of my heart beat out. I did. Nothing there – nothing at all. Where had they gone? The doorways were boarded up – there were no side streets. I could feel the cold air on my body and realised that my coat had opened. The belt around my waist had slipped off. I moved forward again and the soft noise returned. I stopped and pulled the belt back up and tied it in front of me. I moved forward again. No sound this time. Nothing to be afraid of.
Jan 15, 2011
 Go to the Sun
by: Anonymous

Worn tennis shoes cracked with each step and dug into sore feet, sore from the hard pavement climbing endlessly upward. With each step, the sidewalk scraped against the soles of her shoes like sandpaper. There was a glimpse of sun over the hill, a peaking globe promising light and warmth, promising a new day. She nuzzled into her sweatshirt for warmth, or maybe it was to disappear in the soft fabric. Being alone can make a person think of such things.

Once upon a time she might have been asleep, snuggling in a warm bed until the sun had risen high in the sky and shone through window shutters in stripes of light across her bedroom. But now she walked, watching the sun rise over the hill in a growing ray of light. Not a soul passed on the street, not another soul climbed to the sun in the early hours of the day.

The ascent was slow going, legs struggling forward, muscles tensing with each step. The sun was almost visible and as she neared the top of the hill she shielded her eyes with a hand and slowed her pace.

Her ears caught the sound of soft scratches behind her, slippers padding on a porch to collect the day’s paper, an ambitious jogger leaving for a morning run, a young boy taking the dog for a walk. As the scratches grew closer, steps closing in on her, she reached the top of the hill and gazed at the sun, streaking orange and red across the horizon. She sighed, eyes closed, and felt the warmth of the morning, the energy from the sun.
Jan 12, 2011
 Fear and Love
by: Zoey

I tugged at the bright magenta sweatshirt I wore, wrapping it closely around me. My red choppy bangs kept falling in my face. I needed to cut them so bad. I put my head down to avoid the cold, my bright green sneakers squeaking against the wet pavement below them. I was such a freak. Damn, why was I so stupid? What was I doing at all? One minute life made complete sense, and the next it was twisting and shoving me every direction except the right one, totally out of control. Screw it all, I was getting out of here, taking the midnight train to who knows where. Then I heard them. Soft, quiet footsteps. I jumped, turned around, and Adam was there. His thick, dyed black hair fell over his eyes, a guitar was slung behind his back. He looks exhausted, his beat up jeans covered in mud, his face flushed and worn. He suddenly looked old, wasted away, the youth I knew in him abandoned.

“Cailey, please, please, just..help..i don’t know, please”

“Adam, you aren’t making any sense, and I can’t help you anymore”.

“Cailey, please, they want me” He whispered, a stutter washing over his beautiful, sweet voice, that used to sing to me every night.

“Adam”, I whispered, grabbing his shaking hands to stop them from writhing. “What’s wrong with you?”

Then I heard sirens, loud, beckoning sirens. I knew, I knew exactly what was going on. What was there to do in that moment? Run? Leave him? Forget the situation? Keep it ingrained in my head forever? Nothing would solve anything at this point, nothing at all, and part of me wished he would kill me to, so I could stop suffering his life with him.
Jan 10, 2011
 Quiet Footsteps
by: Anonymous

Samantha got off the city bus on Murray Street, two blocks from her apartment. She noticed four other people getting off at the same bus stop. Two of the riders went in the opposite direction and a woman and child turned at the end of the first block on Tenth Avenue. Samantha crossed Tenth Avenue and as she continued walking down Murrey Street, she heard quiet footsteps behind her. She hurriedly walked the last block, toward her apartment, afraid to look back. She quickly turned and entered the gate of her apartment building and went up the steps. Feeling safe, she looked back but noone was there. Samantha breathed a sigh of relief, entered her apartment to a warm greeting from her cat,Hannah.
Jan 10, 2011
 Quiet Footsteps
by: Anonymous

Samantha got off the city bus on Murray Street, two blocks from her apartment. She noticed four other people getting off at the same bus stop. Two of the riders went in the opposite direction and a woman and child turned at the end of the first block on Tenth Avenue. Samantha crossed Tenth Avenue and as she continued walking down Murrey Street, she heard quiet footsteps behind her. She hurriedly walked the last block, toward her apartment, afraid to look back. She quickly turned and entered the gate of her apartment building and went up the steps. Feeling safe, she looked back but noone was there. Samantha breathed a sigh of relief, entered her apartment to a warm greeting from her cat,Hannah.
Jan 07, 2011
 Lesson 1 - Footsteps
by: Anonymous L

Tammy held her head down as she hurried along the busy sidewalk. Her thoughts were a mixture of confusion and fear - what could the letter have meant?
She was unaware of the light breeze rustling the leaves of the overhanging branches, of the shadows cast by their movement. The streetlights glowed eerily, casting circles of light, but providing little by way of comfort.
The night air was chill,and she huddled inside her coat. Vaguely she became aware of soft footsteps behind her, but could not find the courage to turn around. She quickened her pace, and felt her heart racing.
Suddenly, the sound of the footsteps was so close, she could no longer ignore them, and turned around
- her follower was caught by surprise, and for a moment they stood, looking at each other.
Slowly, her numbness dissipated, as she looked into the face she thought she would never see again.....
Jan 06, 2011
 Search
by: Glenda

The wrinkled old envolpe that had the address and directions scribbled on it was clutched tightly in my hand as I hurried around the cornor. There was the old Bunny Bread warehouse that closed a few years ago. Stained plywood and corragated,rusty aluminum sheets were nailed over the windows. Dead leaves and a torn old brown shopping bag from Piggly Wiggly are nestled in the doorway where cigirette butts and a Colt 40 oz. lay scattered around the doorstep. This is not the side of town I have ever found myself in. Just across the railroad tracks is "Sunset",as it is known locally. Even the police don't answer calls here after dark, but I have to find the old man that lives down here.
It is a sunny autumn afternoon,but the bit of the wind seems to reach icy fingers deep into my bones and even tho it gets dark early now I still have some time before dusk turns this into a "No Mans Land". I can smell the smoke from leaves being burned,a mournful howl of an old hound comes from around the block.
The sidewalk that takes me deeper into the neighborhood ripples as tree roots stick thru the earth like skeleten bones trying to find sunlight to warm them from the cold,dark soil.
Jan 06, 2011
 Footsteps
by: April

I'm walking down a darken street, an occasional car can be heard on and near by street. Suddenly, I become aware of the sound of footstep behind me. There is only a flickering light from a streetlight. The only sounds are of a cat squalling and a dog barking. My heart is pounding so loud I think I can hear it. I quicken my pace as I near my apartment as does the footsteps behind me. Running up the stairs, I fumble for my keys, finally managing to get them in the lock. I rush in the door and slam it shut, locking it at the same time then lean against the door as the steps come near, stop then slowly move on.
Jan 05, 2011
 De-ja vu
by: Lorraine

Another long day at the office, another wet walk to the bus stop. Seriously, is this as fun as it gets? Belle, an average looking but hardworking and intelligent young woman, felt she should be enjoying her Friday night off with her friends, but turns out she is up for a big promotion and ‘every hour counts’. She told herself it will all be worth it in the end.
She walked past the burger bar on the corner of Pole Road, and made her way to the off licence, which was due to close in ten minutes. She had run out of cigarettes six hours earlier and was thankful her next fix of nicotine was very near. Despite her parents being obviously disappointed with her decision to smoke, she philosophically retorted on every occasion they complained, that everyone had to die of something.
As she entered the off licence she noticed a faint sound behind her, which made her turn hastily. Another customer had entered the shop shortly after her. He was probably behind her since she left her building, quite possibly having left work himself at the same time. She turned and saw that he was quite tall with dark hair and a nice jacket. She made eye contact with him, and he acknowledged her with a small smile. Something about him seemed familiar, and she thought she had seen him before somewhere, although at that moment, could not recall where from. She thought that he recognised her as well, but wasn’t about to go and ask him on the off chance. She was tired and ready to get on her bus. She paid for her cigarettes and walked up the road to the nearest bus stop. In only fifteen minutes she’d be home in her cosy flat, in a nice hot bath with a glass of white wine. Little did she know that she would not even make it onto the next bus.....


Jan 05, 2011
 De-ja vu
by: Lorraine

Another long day at the office, another wet walk to the bus stop. Seriously, is this as fun as it gets? Belle, an average looking but hardworking and intelligent young woman, felt she should be enjoying her Friday night off with her friends, but turns out she is up for a big promotion and ‘every hour counts’. She told herself it will all be worth it in the end.
She walked past the burger bar on the corner of Pole Road, and made her way to the off licence, which was due to close in ten minutes. She had run out of cigarettes six hours earlier and was thankful her next fix of nicotine was very near. Despite her parents being obviously disappointed with her decision to smoke, she philosophically retorted on every occasion they complained, that everyone had to die of something.
As she entered the off licence she noticed a faint sound behind her, which made her turn hastily. Another customer had entered the shop shortly after her. He was probably behind her since she left her building, quite possibly having left work himself at the same time. She turned and saw that he was quite tall with dark hair and a nice jacket. She made eye contact with him, and he acknowledged her with a small smile. Something about him seemed familiar, and she thought she had seen him before somewhere, although at that moment, could not recall where from. She thought that he recognised her as well, but wasn’t about to go and ask him on the off chance. She was tired and ready to get on her bus. She paid for her cigarettes and walked up the road to the nearest bus stop. In only fifteen minutes she’d be home in her cosy flat, in a nice hot bath with a glass of white wine. Little did she know that she would not even make it onto the next bus.....


Jan 05, 2011
 Night
by: Chloe

The Sun had sunk below the horizon over an hour ago now. As Chloe trudged down the narrow alley, her headphones blaring into her ears and the streetlights flickering non-stop around her, she thought. Chloe found herself thinking a lot nowadays, of those chances she missed and people she lost.
"Yeah," she spoke softly into the gloom, "I'm depressing when I'm alone..." As she continued, the song drew to a close. Matthew Bellamy sang the last line, and the music faded out into nothing. Silence followed the next few seconds. It didn't stop.
Chloe heard the bleep of her mobile's battery dying and slipped the phone and headset into her pocket. Then she froze. Footsteps. Human footsteps, faint yet somehow they seemed near in the dead alley.
Turning suddenly she felt a strong gust of wind hit her face, bitterly cold. Strange, she mused, it's the middle of summer... Chloe went to continue, but heard the steps tap tapping on the cracked cobbles, louder than before. Once more they stopped as Chloe spun around to peer into the growing mist, so thick now that the moon was invisible. She could also feel a gripping chill, down to her bones. How peculiar for August.
Pulling herself together, she went to step into the darkness. A fist flew out and hit her between the eyes. She was unconscious before the cobbles greeted her.
Jan 02, 2011
 Lesson 1
by: tracieew

After finishing a long and stressful eight hour shift at work, Alana Carter walked the twenty minutes to her apartment alone. It was a reasonably quiet evening with only the occasional car and pedestrian passing her by. They air was cool and crisp as she pulled up her jacket collar to stop the draft racing down her back. She turned the last corner before she was in view of the apartment she had lived in for three years. She turned into the small alley way that lead up to the back entrance. She stopped for a few moments and tilted her head, listening…
She shook the thought from her head and carried on. She paused again. She was sure this time that she had heard footsteps. She turned to see if maybe it was one of her neighbours. There was no one there, she was the only one.
She quickened her pace until she reached her gate, she swung it open and raced inside closing it behind her. She rested her back against the gate and breathed in deeply. She chuckled to herself as she realised that if anyone could see her racing about that she would never live it down. She made her way to her back door, her apartment was on the ground floor she did like that she didn’t have to climb stairs. She fumbled in her bag for her keys. She didn’t hear the gate open. She found her key and put it in the lock. She didn’t have time to turn the key as she found herself struggling with a cloth over her face. Her attacker was strong and held her tight as she struggled, breathing in the chloroform with every desperate breath. Her eyes got heavy and her limbs went weak as she passed out. Her attacker picked her up gathered all her belongings and quietly left the backyard closing the gate quietly behind them.
Dec 31, 2010
 The Woman in Black
by: Laura

The woman turned around carefully examining her body in the full length mirror. Her shoulders slagged slightly due to the daunting task of mourning. She wasn't sure if this was the dress to wear or not, she didn't care. Nothing matters any more she thought as she slightly patted the bags under her eyes. Her pillow soaked with tears, her eyes swollen from grief. She straightened her shoulders and continued to examined herself more closely.



She had read in a book of yester-year women wore black veils to funerals, she still wished it were so, how she would love to hide her face at this moment.



She went to the bed and slipped on her heels, she thought about lying down, but knew she wouldn't sleep, though exhausted she was, this was her place to cry now. She no longer felt love here, or secure for that matter. She thought about making the bed and instead she yanked at the quilt as hard as she could, ripping it off the bed. Then she tore at the sheets she felt some release, but not enough, not enough.



She made her way to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, but there, on the counter was a butcher's knife. She took it and returned to the bedroom where she attacked the bedding as she wept and slashed she sputtered, "Why? Why did you leave me now? What were your secrets? How were you murdered in the pinnacle of our lives? Tell me, damn it, tell me now!" Cotton, feathers and cloth covered the room and it was only then that she felt exhausted enough to stop her rampage.



She stood up and catching a glimpse of her swollen belly in the mirror she remembered the love that had put their child there. She began to cry as she thought that no one could know a love like their's, no one. How could she raise a child by herself? How could she explain that the baby's daddy had been murdered in a bank robbery gone bad?



She staggered out of the room at the sound of the doorbell, the limo was there to take her to the funeral. Her and her child's first ride in a limo was to commemorate the death of her beloved. Her first limo ride was supposed to be in exactly one month, as bride and groom, instead she would be in a limo following behind his casket lifted high above on the rear of a fire truck.



The more she thought the more she wanted to attack his murderers, if only they could be found! If it were her life's mission she would find those bastards and slice them as she did her bedding. She would spill their blood all over the place and laugh as she did.



With a shudder she wondered what had driven her to this madness, to be so uncaring. As the limo driver helped her into the backseat her hand brushed her belly and she determined her child must take precedence, no matter how they have squashed her dreams she could not commit the same murderous rampage on those that have taken his life, but one can dream.



.
Dec 29, 2010
 Lesson 1 - A dark figure
by: Linda

I saw the street dark as I entered the junction off the main road and that led to my street: a big contrast from the slightly lit main road. My heart beat faster than it was while on the main road. I walked faster as well. On turning into my street I saw at a corner the dark shadow of a man bent over in a triangle and smoke emitting from his hand and face into the air. Then I realized I had perceived the smell of marijuana. My heart beat fastened even more, as well as my walk pace, I was almost trotting.
Then I felt the figure I saw and left behind move. I could see my compound: It was only about 2 minutes of normal walking pace to it but I was sure I could make it in less than 30 seconds with my trotting pace. I could hear and feel my chest pumping from my heart beat. My whole body quivered and I was as light as a feather. The figure did not only move but it hurried as if to match and meet my quick steps. I feared to look back but I must; somehow I wanted to know even though it seemed obvious that I was being followed. I didn’t finish turning to see the approaching figure before I was certain it was after me. I jumped the foot-blank placed across the gutter to my compound; I didn’t see it there or simply forgot its usefulness.
The figure was now about four steps away from me. With its steps faster than mine I knew it would reach me in less than two giant faster steps. But my house is another 7 seconds running pace away from a long corridor. My windows and my neighbours’ were closed and all the lights out. I knew I couldn’t make it and my only saving grace would be to scream for help. But my heart seemed to have pumped its way to my throat and begun to choke me. It took the figure grabbing me only half-way through the corridor before sound found its way through and out of my mouth as I screamed like I never believed I could considering my overt nature; and the quiet night help to enhance the loudness of my voice.

The figure’s hand attempted to cover my mouth; I could feel the strength and contours of his muscles to know it was a man and I even perceived the stench of marijuana from his breathe to confirm that he was the one I saw sit and bent over in a triangle.
I resolved to summon the courage to fight back with the little time I have to either be rescued or ignored from fear by neighbours: I bit his hand so hard I could have chopped it off for all I cared. The man winced, pushed me down and gave a rough and disgruntled sound, stifling his impulse to scream. Lights begin to come on and reflect through the windows. My assailant’s face became slightly lit but I could not make out who he was. His eyes popped out either from the pain of my bite or the anger of losing out. Voices began to call out roughly and sharply: ‘Who’s there?!’. My attacker backed out and fled, and so did I in the opposite direction and into the arms of family, neighbours and friends. Phew!

Dec 27, 2010
 The Long Awaited Kiss
by: Laura

The knock at the door was rather unexpected, she wiped her hands on the dish towel and answered the door. There he stood, a bit taller, a tad older, but other than that he was still her high school crush. Life swept away as she looked in his eyes, "H-h-hello."

"Hi, Kristi! Wow, you look as good as you always did!"

She blushed at the sound of his voice, the smell of his aftershave and his words, oh how his words took her breath away! She was lost in memories, shocked that he was here, at her house, after all of these years. She stepped onto the porch, suddenly realizing to invite him in would be a violation of her husband's space. "How can I help you?"

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" he asked.

"Steve, I was just thinking about going for a walk. Will you join me?"

They headed off into the forest behind her home. He seemed a bit shy, and she was overwhelmed. Finally he stated what he had long to say to her, "I always loved you, but you were to pretty, to good, to ... to everything for me." He put his arm around her and pulled her close, she couldn't believe how lucky she was, if only this had happened 20 years ago.

"But, I'm married now, I can't."

"I heard you really love your husband but he's been gone for two years now, I think it is okay for us to be friends and see where this goes." And he leaned in to her, she looked up and her lips longed to touch his. She closed her eyes, wrapped her arms around his neck to pull his lips closer to hers, then she caught a glimpse of her wedding ring. "I can't, I just can't do this! I've longed for this moment, but I'm still married! I vowed to be there for him forever, his death in Iraq doesn't make me unmarried, I love him too much to violate his memory like this!" She quickly pulled away from him as if his touch were burning her.

"This is going way too fast for me, Kristi, will you be kind enough to take my number and if you need a friend give me a call?"

"Let's go to the house and I'll take your number, but no promises, okay?" He nodded in response and they both headed back through the forest each lost in wishes, dreams and memories of lives that have gone in different directions.
Dec 27, 2010
 2nd of 7 days of inspiration
by: Jill

Roy let go of his daughter’s hand as they walked up the front stairs to the entrance of the church in order for her to pick up the bottom of her long White Wedding gown, opened the double solid doors and stepped inside. As soon as they heard the organ music begin to play ‘Here Comes The Bride’ from somewhere near the front of the church they proceeded down the red carpeted isle inside the old cathedral church on Main Street.
Heather could feel one small drop of sweat trickle down from her armpit to her waist as she held her father’s hand looking at all the people that came to see her and Randy marry. “Oh no, did forget to put deodorant on?” She thought as her brown eyes grew big and dilated.
The people sitting in the pews closest the isle, close enough to see her eyes were all thinking “Oh, oh someone’s got cold feel.”
It seemed to Heather like a million people showed up. Some she knew very well but most of Randy’s family she had never even met yet and he had a very large family. She turned her head to say something to her father who was beaming with pride on the day he was chosen to give his daughter’s hand in marriage to a very wonderful man he liked very much and was pleased as punch to call Randy son. When Heather noticed the Best man Ivan was nowhere to be seen. She then found herself looking for Randy her soon-to-be husband and couldn’t see him either.
“Dad, I don’t see him!” Heather heard someone say alarmingly. She could feel a knot forming in her stomach. It was only when her father looked directly into her eyes with love and care and whispered back to her that she realized it was she that had said those words.
“Don’t worry honey, he’s here somewhere, you know Randy he likes to be dramatic and honestly, I can see him do something like this. Just keep walking. You’ll see. Trust your good ole dad, will ya?”
With those words she continued down the centre isle with her loving father. When they reached the altar where the Priest was standing, waiting for them she couldn’t let go of her father’s hand and so they stood together in front of the priest as if they were to be wed instead of waiting for Randy.
Dec 27, 2010
 2nd of 7 days of inspiration
by: Jill

As soon as Heather and her father got to the alter Randy and Ivan pulled up to the curb outside of the church. Ivan no sooner turned the ignition to the off position quieting the 1956 black Mustang soft-top when he dropped the keys on the floor mat under his feet. “Crap!” He exclaimed as he pushed his seat back and leaned down to pick them up. Just as his blonde head was bent down to almost below the steering wheel he heard one short loud noise that sounded almost like fireworks and then a tinkle of what sounded like glass breaking then a vehicle speed away abruptly, squealing its tires in the process. He felt a chill run gently, eerily over his back. Finally feeling the keys and grabbing them in his hand he sat up and without looking at his friend was about to say, “Are you ready to end your bachelorhood, my man?” When he noticed his friend was sitting with his head leaning against the window. “Come on man, if this wedding has you that stressed out, you shouldn’t be going in there.” Ivan didn’t notice the small dark hole close to Randy’s temple with a drop of blood slowly creeping down into his collar. He couldn’t see the hole in the side window under Randy’s head. He did notice, however, that just beyond his vehicle was a small gathering crowd of people standing in a circle. “Hey look at that, man, I bet ya those people are out for their last smoke before the big moment but hey, no sweat man, I will take you anywhere you want to go. Just say the word.” Not getting any kind of response from his friend, Ivan got out of his car intending to walk around to open the door for him. As soon as he stood up outside his car he saw Derek open one of the church entrance doors and he smiled and waved a big wave with his entire arm as if to say, “We’re here, we’re coming in right now.” He couldn’t understand why Derek didn’t wave or shout a reply or something, he just stood there looking in the direction of the crowd squinting his eyes from the sun, as if Derek didn’t even see him. When he got mid centre of the cars grill he saw a small left shoe lying on the ground. Dismissing it as if it were litter he continued to walk to the front corner edge of his vehicle. That was when he saw what had happened to his friend, “Oh my good lord,” Ivan heard in the distance as if the voice was coming from down a long hallway, not realizing he actually said it himself.
Dec 27, 2010
 2nd of 7 days of inspiration
by: Jill

He suddenly felt very warm and he loosened up his tie and undid the top button of his tuxedo shirt that was when he felt his knees buckle as he more fell than sat down hard on the sidewalk. His vision darkening, threatening to slowly fade out like rapid tunnel vision affect. He felt dizzy like he was floating and that was when he leaned his head against the passenger side door and vomited all over himself. That was the last thing Ivan saw until a police officer touched him on the shoulder to see if he too had been shot.
The priest looking like he didn’t know exactly what to do except stand there holding on to the podium looked over at the organist and gave her a little nod. The organist seemed to know instinctively what he meant and began to play every church Hymn she knew.
Heather was still waiting for Randy, still holding her father’s hand, when she heard the vehicles squealing tires. Looking up at her father as if expecting to get an answer to the sudden noise outside and not receiving one, she turned completely around to face the people in the church half expecting Randy to come racing in and run down the isle to stand beside her. When she saw Derek came back inside the church, his face was different somehow, she couldn’t quite make it out from the distance she was at but she knew something was not quite right.
Derek made his way down the isle quickly and walked directly up to Heather and said, “It’s ok, Heather, honestly, I just saw a child lay hurt on the sidewalk but there are people around helping him or her. I’m quite sure Randy will be here as soon as he possibly can because I know he loves you very much.” Derek, with his piercing blue eyes looking right into Heather’s scared, worried brown ones, said sincerely. That was when they heard a loud clap of thunder and then a bright flash of lightening that illuminated every window in the church, casting an eerie glow over the crowd of people inside as the power simultaneously flickered and then failed all together.
Dec 27, 2010
 2nd 7days of inspiration continued
by: Jill

The priest ran to the right side of his podium and lit all the candles there and did the same on the left side. The organ player got up from her bench and almost tripped as the hem of her floral dress caught on the edge of her seat, turning this way and that she heard a tiny ripping sound before her dress was freed. Relieved she didn’t trip, she stood in front of her instrument and tried to get everyone’s attention by clapping her hands together and shouting as loud as she could in her croaky old woman’s voice, “Please don’t be alarmed, it’s only a thunder storm. I would like everyone to please sing along with me.”
But only the people in the first few rows could make out what she said. The rest of the people were busy talking amongst one another and getting antsy, tired of waiting for the big moment they were now certain was not going to happen. But the organ player was insistent and began to sing her favourite hymn; ‘Away in the Manger’. She heard one or two people sing with her and when she was half way through the song, someone yelled, “Oh for Christ’s sake, shut the hell up!” So she went and sat back down at her organ and said nothing.
What seemed like an eternity, the front doors of the church opened casting a grey light into the door way. Heather instinctively looked in that direction and gasped when she saw a silhouette step inside. Hoping it was finally Randy, she thought, “Finally, we can get this thing going.” That was when she heard a toneless voice whisper inside her mind, ‘That’s not him.’ She felt the knot in her stomach tighten as she adjusted her footing more securely.
Dec 27, 2010
 2nd of 7 days of inspiration continued
by: Jill

As the silhouette came down the isle closer and closer to her, she squinted to try to make out who it was but could only get a partial view of one side of their head and shoulder as the flash of lightening cast its brilliance into the church.
When the police officer finally reached her and her father Roy, he said in a voice as thick as pea soup, “Ma’am, are you Heather Spelling?”
“Yes,” Heather replied barely audible. She began to feel woozy like she had just gotten out of a pool from a long, hard swimming lesson. She felt her stomach begin to burn as some of its acidity splashed up into the back of her throat. It was all she could do to keep it down. Roy did not say one word but only stood there as if he were a statue, his face in a serious grimace, frozen in time.
When the police officer explained to them that Randy was dead because of a single senseless act of what the police believe to have been a gang initiation that took place and the single bullet fired from what they believe to have been a modified high powered rifle inside the vehicle went through Ivan’s open driver’s side window, which narrowly missed him and went through Randy’s head and entered a small child’s chest, killing her instantly while she and her mother were out for a walk. Heather fell into her father’s arms and sobbed big heaving sobs and screamed at the top of voice, “No, no you’re lying! My Randy is ALIVE, damned you!” She turned to slap the officer’s face and raising her hand to him she felt her father gently take her raised arm and lowered it down to her side.
When a year had lapsed Heather bravely walked back into that same, now almost empty, church with a few people sitting here and there quietly praying their own private prayers for their own private reasons. She walked up to the right side of the podium first and pulled out a matchbook her would-be mother-in-law, Mildred, gave to her. Opening the book of matches up and reading the inscription in Randy’s writing inside the front cover that read: ‘I will love you always and forever.’ Remembering the day Mildred handed her those matches as Heather now lit a candle for every match inside the book, “Here dear, I thought you might want to have this. They were in my Randy’s pocket on the day...well, you know. I think he intended to give it to you.” When Heather was finished striking all the matches she placed the empty book in her front pocket of her blue jeans as a single tear trickle down her cheek and dripped off her jaw and ran down between her breasts. Heather sat in the first row of pews and she too began to pray her own private prayer for her own private reason.
Dec 27, 2010
 Chills of imagination
by: Becky

A canopy of leaves closed over the hard packed road. The quiet of evening gave way to the occassional croak of a bullfrog.
My steps echoed back at me as I hurried along listening to the sounds. I picked up on the sound of quiet footsteps following me. I stopped and they stopped. I started and they started. I turned trying to catch a glimpse of someone following, but all I saw was the shadows of the close packed trees crowding the road. I began running and fell. Then I looked up, thinking I was done for, but there was the face of my father bending over and offering his hand. "Now this will teach you not to go off walking by yourself."
Dec 27, 2010
 Chills of imagination
by: Becky

A canopy of leaves closed over the hard packed road. The quiet of evening gave way to the occassional croak of a bullfrog.
My steps echoed back at me as I hurried along listening to the sounds. I picked up on the sound of quiet footsteps following me. I stopped and they stopped. I started and they started. I turned trying to catch a glimpse of someone following, but all I saw was the shadows of the close packed trees crowding the road. I began running and fell. Then I looked up, thinking I was done for, but there was the face of my father bending over and offering his hand. "Now this will teach you not to go off walking by yourself."
Dec 27, 2010
 The Unwanted Stranger Part 2
by: Brandi

“Hey broad, do as your told, and you won’t get hurt.” the gruff voice, from the back, indicated that her passenger was definitely a male.
Myra glanced into the rear view mirror, and noticed that her unwanted passenger was no longer crouched but sitting up, leaning towards her. He was wearing a ski mask, and dressed entirely in black.
“What do you want?” she replied
“Stop looking at me; keep your eyes on the road and your mouth shut. Understand?”
Myra drove up Hampton, secretly looking for patrol cars. She knew what to do. After all she had her seat belt on, and he didn’t. She drove on, and then noticed a police patrol car exiting from Leo’s Grocery parking lot. She pushed on the accelerator, raising her speed to fifty miles an hour, sailing past the patrol car. Within seconds, the siren sounded and the top lights flashed on as the patrol car started in pursuit.
“Hey broad, what the hell do you think you are doing?” the voice screamed from the rear of the car.
Myra waited until the person, in the back seat, started to rise and then started to weave from lane to lane, never slowing down, tossing her assailant from side to side, preventing him from regain his balance. She noticed that the police car was right behind her, now it was time to act.
She drove her car into the metal pole, flinging her passenger through the windshield off her car,
to the pavement below, then waited for the officer to approach the car before opening the door.
“Miss are you alright?” the officer inquired.
“Yes I am, just a little shaken up is all; however I don’t know about him.” she stated, and pointed towards the pavement in front of the car.
“Probably a few broken bones, should heal nicely while serving time.” the officer replied.
“One question, miss; how did you learn to drive like that?
“My father was a cop, and he insisted that I take a defensive driving course, which covered incidents like this one. I thought the whole idea was stupid, but it looks like he knew what he was talking about, because I’m still alive.


Dec 27, 2010
 The Unwanted Passenger Part One
by: Brandi

This is a short story based upon Day One Inspiration for writers.

Night had fallen, turning the red crimson sky into a dark inky blackness. Patches of fog had crept in, adding eeriness to a poorly lit parking garage. Myra pulled the red scarf closer to her neck, trying to shut out the cold moist air, as she made her way to the car. The clicking of her black heels upon the pavement, echoed throughout the empty garage and the elongated dark shadows cast upon the walls, made her uneasy.
She was exhausted, both mentally and physically. The day had gone on forever, meeting after meeting, no time for lunch. She pulled back her coat sleeve, and glanced at her watch; time was one am. Myra wished that she was already home, curled up on the sofa in front of the TV, sipping hot chocolate, and watching her favorite show; instead of the long lonely drive home.
Normally, she would have peered through the windows of the car, checking both front and rear seats, for unwanted passengers, before unlocking the door and climbing in. However, tonight was different. Myra decided to forgo the formality, unlocked the door and climbed in. She fastened her seat belt; put the key in the ignition starting the car. Myra slowly backed out of her parking space, and turned right, heading for the ramp that lead her to Hampton Street. As she turned left, onto Hampton, she glimpsed into the rear view mirror, and noticed that someone was crouched down in the back seat of the car, and then realized that she was not alone.
Dec 27, 2010
 The Unwanted Passenger Part One
by: Brandi

This is a short story based upon Day One Inspiration for writers.

Night had fallen, turning the red crimson sky into a dark inky blackness. Patches of fog had crept in, adding eeriness to a poorly lit parking garage. Myra pulled the red scarf closer to her neck, trying to shut out the cold moist air, as she made her way to the car. The clicking of her black heels upon the pavement, echoed throughout the empty garage and the elongated dark shadows cast upon the walls, made her uneasy.
She was exhausted, both mentally and physically. The day had gone on forever, meeting after meeting, no time for lunch. She pulled back her coat sleeve, and glanced at her watch; time was one am. Myra wished that she was already home, curled up on the sofa in front of the TV, sipping hot chocolate, and watching her favorite show; instead of the long lonely drive home.
Normally, she would have peered through the windows of the car, checking both front and rear seats, for unwanted passengers, before unlocking the door and climbing in. However, tonight was different. Myra decided to forgo the formality, unlocked the door and climbed in. She fastened her seat belt; put the key in the ignition starting the car. Myra slowly backed out of her parking space, and turned right, heading for the ramp that lead her to Hampton Street. As she turned left, onto Hampton, she glimpsed into the rear view mirror, and noticed that someone was crouched down in the back seat of the car, and then realized that she was not alone.
Dec 27, 2010
 The Unwanted Passenger Part One
by: Brandi

This is a short story based upon Day One Inspiration for writers.

Night had fallen, turning the red crimson sky into a dark inky blackness. Patches of fog had crept in, adding eeriness to a poorly lit parking garage. Myra pulled the red scarf closer to her neck, trying to shut out the cold moist air, as she made her way to the car. The clicking of her black heels upon the pavement, echoed throughout the empty garage and the elongated dark shadows cast upon the walls, made her uneasy.
She was exhausted, both mentally and physically. The day had gone on forever, meeting after meeting, no time for lunch. She pulled back her coat sleeve, and glanced at her watch; time was one am. Myra wished that she was already home, curled up on the sofa in front of the TV, sipping hot chocolate, and watching her favorite show; instead of the long lonely drive home.
Normally, she would have peered through the windows of the car, checking both front and rear seats, for unwanted passengers, before unlocking the door and climbing in. However, tonight was different. Myra decided to forgo the formality, unlocked the door and climbed in. She fastened her seat belt; put the key in the ignition starting the car. Myra slowly backed out of her parking space, and turned right, heading for the ramp that lead her to Hampton Street. As she turned left, onto Hampton, she glimpsed into the rear view mirror, and noticed that someone was crouched down in the back seat of the car, and then realized that she was not alone.
Dec 27, 2010
 Unedited1
by: Anonymous

I'm walking down a wide residential street, huge oak trees growing every two feet, creating a ceiling of branches and green leaves. The houses are old, four squares with large wrap around patioes and long driveways, the street is quiet. The pavement is rough and uneven, I have to look down to make certain I don't trip over a jutting piece of cement.

It's cold outside, mid-morning, and the sun is shining but the street is shaded by all of the trees. It's windy, brown leaves blow back and forth in front of me and my long brown hair whips around my face, i'm trying to hide it in my purple scarf, and collar of my long black overcoat. My mittened hands are shoved as deep as the can go inside my pockets, knee high black boots cover my designer jeans, the only sound I hear is the click of my heels on the pavement, the leaves, and the wind that carries the smell of burning wood. This is my favorite kind of weather, and I'm deep in thought. I love how quiet the street is, almost like everyone is away on vacation.


Far ahead I can see small shapes moving back and forth between the street and the painted white patio of the house, the way they're scurrying reminds me of an ant colony. I almost call out to them, my family, but for some reason I don't want to be seen yet. At the corner of the street there's a stop sign, and a few houses beyond it on the other side, my family. The trees open up a bit, and the three-way stop is more brightly lit that the sidewalks on all sides. As I walk, I'm deciding whether to turn left and remain under the shadow of the trees, or to cross the street into the sunlight, and go back to the turkey, the board games, the fuzzy christmas sweaters...
Dec 26, 2010
 lonely walk
by: Anonymous

Lonely walk

One night I was walking all by myself down a street called Lonely rode. While I was walking I got to a park and started to walk thru it and heard something. So I turned around and no one was their. I kept walking and heard it aging, I turned around and no one was their. So I got scared and stated and run and then the noise got faster and faster like someone was casing me. I got to a hill and fell. I hit me like a truck hitting u when I looked up I was a bat flying bout it hit me. I yelled but I seemed like no one could hear me
Dec 26, 2010
 Lonely Rode
by: shana jones

One night I was walking all by myself down a street called Lonely rode. While I was walking I got to a park and started to walk thru it and heard something. So I turned around and no one was their. I kept walking and heard it aging, I turned around and no one was their. So I got scared and stated and run and then the noise got faster and faster like someone was casing me. I got to a hill and fell i cut my arm up all over i got up and kept running. Blood was all over me i didnt care i wonted to get some where out of i didnt matter where i was going it felt like i was ending up in the same place. when i thought it was gone i stop to see where it was at. when i stop it got me. Like a truck hit me. i layed their it felt like i was dieing
Dec 26, 2010
 Lonely Rode
by: shana jones

One night I was walking all by myself down a street called Lonely rode. While I was walking I got to a park and started to walk thru it and heard something. So I turned around and no one was their. I kept walking and heard it aging, I turned around and no one was their. So I got scared and stated and run and then the noise got faster and faster like someone was casing me. I got to a hill and fell i cut my arm up all over i got up and kept running. Blood was all over me i didnt care i wonted to get some where out of i didnt matter where i was going it felt like i was ending up in the same place. when i thought it was gone i stop to see where it was at. when i stop it got me. Like a truck hit me. i layed their it felt like i was dieing
Dec 26, 2010
 Lonely Rode
by: shana jones

One night I was walking all by myself down a street called Lonely rode. While I was walking I got to a park and started to walk thru it and heard something. So I turned around and no one was their. I kept walking and heard it aging, I turned around and no one was their. So I got scared and stated and run and then the noise got faster and faster like someone was casing me. I got to a hill and fell i cut my arm up all over i got up and kept running. Blood was all over me i didnt care i wonted to get some where out of i didnt matter where i was going it felt like i was ending up in the same place. when i thought it was gone i stop to see where it was at. when i stop it got me. Like a truck hit me. i layed their it felt like i was dieing
Dec 26, 2010
 On my way home
by: Prinko

Evening shadows stretched out lazily as I walked homeward through the park. The sky had turned from dull orange to a baby pink. My eyes drooped as the weariness of the day crept into my muscles. My bag felt heavy on my shoulders and I tried to shrug off the knot that was forming at the base of my neck. I continued at a leisurely pace, enjoying the peace and quiet of the park at that hour. The only sound I heard was the clipping of my leather shoes against the walkway. My heart was beating in sync with my footsteps. Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Then suddenly it went into a gallop. My stomach clenched. I realized that the sound I had thought to be my heartbeat was not the sound of my heart all. It was the crunch of someone else’s footsteps from the shadows behind me.

I quickened my pace as I stole a glance backwards. I couldn’t see anyone, only darkening shadows. ‘A few minutes more and I’ll be out of the park,’ I told myself, willing myself to stay calm. The footsteps grew louder. So did my heartbeat. Clipperty clop. Clipperty clop. The sound was getting closer by the minute. I broke into a jog.

Then out of the shadows, emerged this rattling horse-cart driven by a tired old man. “Son, you look like you’re in a hurry. Need a ride the main road?” he shouted over the clopping and creaking.
Dec 24, 2010
 Work 1
by: Tarak Khanfir

It was late at night when I was going home. I was so tired. I was forcing myself to continue my way to home and fall in the bed. I noticed that I was hearing some strange sounds.It sounded normal for me at the beginning because it is normal to start having illusions when you are half asleep. But the situation seemed serious because the sounds were real. So I immediately predicted that he is a criminal (pick pocket or way stopper) following me. So I started preparing myself for a bloody fight. I became walking very careful looking behind me from time to time. I hoped that I had brought a knife with me. My eyes were widely open. I was so excited hoping I would see this strange criminal. All of sudden, he was just an old man walking very slowly and very tiredly hoping he would get home quickly. He was wearing thick and solid shoes. So the sound was big. I laughed at myself very well and I continued my way quickly to get home.
WRITTEN BY :
TARAK KHANFIR
Dec 24, 2010
 OK
by: Anonymous

It seems a good course because it teaches us practical ways of writing based on techniques. I think it is the shortest way to learn how to write well. It is perfect for beginner writers. Sharing our writings and getting comments are also very important.
Dec 23, 2010
 Lesson 1
by: Jo Ann

This is the first time I've ever posted any kind of creative writing so any feedback would be appreciated!



It was a scene out of some old black and white movie. All shadows in different shades of grey except for the pools of yellow from the strretlights. Darker shadows in the doorways only noticed by a lit cigarette or a glimmer from a piece of jewelery. Everybody waiting. The pimps for their hookers, the hookers for their johns, the drug dealers for their next sale. I watched it all walking. The last bus of the night pulling away from the curb. It's fumes belching out behind it, filling the street with the snell of smoke. The wails from police sirens or ambulances a couple of streets over.
I turned for home, not much feeling the damp. A lone car splashing through puddles left from a quick shower that ended as quick as it started. Quiet footsteps bnehind me started then stopped, not sure where to go. I made a sharp turn into the alley to get a better look of who was behind me. A tall woman in some kind of fancy coat passed by the opening I was in, soon followed by a man and a woman obviously keeping track of her. I hoped she knew how to take care of herself. She was going to need some help.
Dec 22, 2010
 Tanya Part I (7 Days of Inspiration Assignment # 1)
by: Raven


An amber colored plastic tumbler slams into the white wall, deep red wine splatters and bleeds into the wall, dripping slowly down into the grey tattered carpet. Cigarette smoke fills the musty room as Al crosses to the window and forces it open. He turns and glares at Geneva, who sits drunkenly slumped into a worn burgundy couch. She leans over and misses the ashtray with a flick of her non-filtered Pall Mall, the ash falls and lands on a small pile of ashes between the table and the couch.

Al tucks his freshly washed white t-shirt into his belted blue jeans, he walks over to the wine stained wall and angrily kicks at a broken plastic shard. He looks up and glares at Geneva, who wobbles back and forth as she tries to aim the lit cigarette at her toothless gaping mouth. She misses and the cigarette drops in between the cushions, where it joins a small pile of burnt out butts.

Geneva is in her early fifties, tall and lanky, she wears a thin red nylon nightgown riddled with cigarette burns. She was once a stunning woman, but the years of hard drinking have worn her down, into a helpless, lonely woman.
Al is twelve years younger than Geneva, they met ten years ago, both still in their prime, and able to love with abandon. Now bitter with years of her declining beauty, and her inability to stay sober, Al has had enough, and wants out. He has met someone else and all that’s left is Geneva’s signature on the divorce papers, which she refuses to give.

Al stands five feet seven inches tall, two inches shorter than Geneva, his slight belly hangs over his cinched belt, his hair is jet black, cut short and he wears a large mustache. He prides himself on his good looks, and his anger swells at the idea of being trapped with a woman he no longer loves.

Geneva throws the pen across the room and tears the divorce papers with shaky hands, she looks up and scowls at Al as he slams his fist into the wall, plaster crumbles and falls into the carpeting next to the front door. He grabs his brown leather suitcase, kicks the front screen door open with a loud bang, takes a long silent look at Geneva, and storms out the door cursing obscenities at her.

Al crosses over the uncut grass and weeds, he heads into the dark garage, opens the car trunk and throws his suitcase inside, slams the trunk shut, he angrily grapples with the car door handle, as he drops the keys onto the garage floor he shouts “God Dammit!” He picks up the car keys and slides into the driver’s seat, puts the keys into the ignition and starts the engine.

The engine fires with a roar as he presses hard into the gas peddle. Al’s chin drops into his chest, he stares at his hands for a moment, a tear makes its way down the side of his unshaven face, and drops into his palm, he blinks and another tear falls onto the front of his t-shirt and soaks in.
Dec 22, 2010
 Tanya Part II (7 Days of Inspiration Assignment # 1)
by: Raven



Al looks up and shakes his head, he stares through the front windshield and into the dark wall in front of the car, he reaches up and adjusts the rear view mirror. As he stares through watery eyes at the wall in front of him, he happens to notice a movement in the rear view mirror, someone is crouched down in the back seat of the car. Al blinks hard to make sure that he’s not imagining things, a smile comes to his mouth as he recognizes the person crouching in the back seat, its Tanya, his neighbor, her mouth widens into a smile as Al grins back into the mirror.

Tanya flings her long porcelain arms around Al’s neck as she giggles, leans up and over the car seat, and kisses Al on his cheek. Al turns his head, his mouth covers Tanya’s full lips, she crawls over the backrest and onto the front seat next to Al. Tanya is voluptuous, young and beautiful, her hair is long and brown, it falls just below her curvy waist, she wears tight fitting blue jeans, with a thin low-cut blouse.

Tanya scoops her arm into Al’s bent arm, she presses her full chest against him, she smiles as she looks up into his warm brown eyes. He puts the car in reverse, kisses Tanya on her tanned forehead, wraps his arm around her shoulder and pulls the car out of the garage, the car turns left onto Ruthlor Road, then heads south towards the freeway entrance, the car curves down the freeway ramp and points towards Mexico.



Dec 22, 2010
 1st of 7 days of inspiration
by: Jill

“...Look Virginia, I don’t want you to go. I have feelings for you. Don’t you feel them too?” Frankie asked sincerely.
“No, actually, I don’t. To be more than blunt Frank, I’m not sure how I feel about you, me or this, this...whatever this is, I guess a relationship is about as close a word I know to describe it but this is not what it is, is it? And it hasn’t been that for awhile and you know it.” Victoria growled through clenched teeth, angrily.
“Now hold on here a minute, that’s enough of that...”
“No, it’s not, it’s just the start. I want out. If you care to know why then I’ll leave it up to you to ask me.”
“What the hell are you so pissed off at?”
“Excuse me? Are you daft? Did your mother drop you on your head? For fuck sakes, do I have to spell it out for you?”
“Yeah, yeah I guess you do!”
Dec 22, 2010
 1st of 7 days of inspiration
by: Jill

“Fine, Number one, Frank:” Virginia sneered. “You think just because YOU’RE in the mood, I am too. But the times I’M not in the mood, you start pouting and just roll over and say a cold ‘goodnight’ to me like I’m whoring myself out to you and just wasted your precious money. Thanks for nothing.
“Yeah but...”
Number two: We don’t communicate with each other unless we’re fighting. You don’t tell me anything at all. You think I like feeling overwhelmed, even though you hate the feeling yourself. Look at when we went to Mexico, you told me absolutely nothing about the country or the people, I only knew what was on the News. I didn’t know I couldn’t walk outside within the compounds of the resort at night by myself. And you knew it. So what do you do? You call security and make everyone think I was the dumb ass. Thanks for nothing.
“But, but...”
Number three: Gertrude next door stuck her tongue down your throat and you liked it!”
“Hey! That only happened once and it was a while ago.” Frank said as he got to his feet forgetting about the newspaper he had resting on his lap that now lay scattered in a complete circle around his feet as if entrapping him.
“I don’t care. My point is it keeps coming up because we don’t communicate. You don’t do anything. I used to try to talk to you but you think talking about a relationship is bad. I am leaving tonight and I don’t know if I’ll be back.”
Virginia turned her back to him and was about to walk away when she heard Frank say in a low growling whisper, “If you walk out that door, leave your key.”
Pausing long enough to pick up the cube of boxes she brought in from her car earlier, Virginia went directly to the bedroom she shared with him only last night. Pushing it to the back of her mind, she continued to pack her belongings.
Dec 22, 2010
 1st of 7 days of inspiration
by: Jill

Her anger mounting with each article she through in the box. “Great, it takes me this long to figure out he never did love me. He refuses to move any of his things to make room for mine. Wow, I should be getting down on the floor kissing his fucking toes.” Virginia said, feeling the large hard lump in her gut threatening to go up her throat as the nerves in her buttocks almost sent a shiver up her back. Shivering anyway to get rid of that feeling, Virginia continued to the bathroom to pack more. She picked up one of several tubes of lipsticks and pulled the lid off and was about to write ‘Fuck you’ on the mirror but looked at the lipstick first and realized it was an expensive brand and so dropped in the box instead. She continued her way throughout the house packing what she deemed hers. When she was done Virginia went out to the garage where her little white Honda Civic Hatchback rested. She unlocked the hatch and pulled out a metal fold-up dolly. Remembering earlier that day when she bought it, the package promised it would hold up to three hundred pounds. A little giggle escaped her lips as she thought, “Frankie would break this thing if he ever stood on this, oh, hope he doesn’t.” Virginia said as she felt a shiver of dread run over the bottom of her buttocks. “I’m glad I took the packaging off at the store.” She said feeling a sense of relief as she carried the thing in the house forgetting to close the hatch door. She walked from room to room collecting her boxes and stacking them onto the dolly. When she got the dolly into the garage she stopped pulled out her key chain and unclipped the house key from the ring and flung it through the open doorway across the room, slammed the door and managed to pack everything into the hatch, including the dolly. She opened the door and slid into the drivers’ seat. She didn’t realize she didn’t have to unlock the driver side door as she stuck the key into the ignition and turned it clockwise.
Dec 22, 2010
 1st of 7 days of inspiration
by: Jill

She looked up at her sun visor where she had the garage door opener clamped in place and was about to push the button when she saw movement in the back seat. Virginia sat in the driver seat stock still. Every muscle in her body was tense. She turned her head mechanically to look into the rear view mirror. Her eyes wide, her pupils dilated, she could do nothing but sit there. Sweat began to form on her brow and soon ran down the sides of her face leaving streaks down her foundation she had applied that morning. She had no time to think. After a few seconds when the movement stayed still and the garage door opener was still not pushed, the movement knew it was caught. It sat up behind Virginia. She couldn’t see who it was, they were wearing a black woollen mask over their face and a cloth hood over their head.
“Whoa...Wha...?” Was all Virginia could manage to push out through her lips.
The person reached one arm around her and rested it on her chest. She heard a gravelly whisper spray droplets of saliva all over her ear, “Don’t scream.”
“It’s a man.” She thought bewildered and at that exact moment he pushed the button on his switchblade and slit her throat from ear to ear. The blood gushed out in front of her hitting the windshield streaming down into the heat and air vents on the dashboard. Virginia could feel the hot liquid run down her breasts and pool in her lap. She felt a cold shutter run through her body as she fell into the steering wheel causing the horn to blare. In the time it took Frank to come out and see what the commotion was all about, the killer had time to slink out of the car, close the back passenger door and slip through the side door of the garage. Virginia simply closed her eyes and knew no more.
Dec 21, 2010
 lesson 1
by: Karel

Josh's loud, heavy footsteps and harsh breathing echoed quite loudly in the small, empty alleyway, but not quite loudly enough to mask the smaller, quieter footsteps behind him. Suspicious by nature, he automatically sped up, not stopping to look behind. His father(a cop) had once told him that, "looking behind you is the surest way to get distracted, and get shot." And that had always made sense to Josh. So, rather than turning to glance at his pursuer, he simply slid his hand into his coat pocket and withdrew the small handgun that he kept there for "emergency purposes". He thought he heard the footsteps hesistate, but he was no longer concerned with their owner's welfare. In one fluid motion, he spun around and fired the gun, allowing years of gunfighting to instinctively aim for him. He heard the sound of the body hitting the ground before his vision had even had time to clear. he smiled, not bothering to check on the victim. After all, he wasx already wanted for three other murder charges. What was one more gonna hurt?
Dec 19, 2010
 Fear In Fog
by: Meena B

It had been raining for a week. The masses of warm and cold air this September seemed to mix together like cocktail drinks making an impenetrable blanket of fog shroud the streets. Everything looked like shadows. I could not recognize the street with the dense fog all around. It seemed eerie and lonely as if I was on ground never travelled before. My long black London fog coat kept me warm underneath as I felt moisture sticking to its surface. Never one to wear head gear, I felt my hair trap the moisture from the mist around me.
It was 2 am. I had worked late. I walked down the street where most of the shops were bistros and specialty stores that closed by 7pm. Except for the bar as my neighbour, the street was quiet. I thought of calling Joe to tell him I am leaving. The car is just three streets away. I will be alright. I began heading towards the car. I needed to walk ten blocks before I made a right turn into a residential street. I was four blocks away from the right turn I needed to take, when I heard it. Footsteps! It seemed at least half a block behind me. I began to panic. Why did I not call Joe? He would have sent me one of his bouncers to walk me to the car. Of all days! I chose not to call him.
“Think!” I said to myself. “Don’t go to your car. Walk toward the main street.” I reasoned in my head.
My heart was pounding; adrenalin helped me quicken my footsteps. I never thought I could walk so fast. I continued to walk on the street and decided to go to the main street up ahead. As I began to hasten the footsteps behind did the same.
“Do not run. Stay focused and get to the main street,” I told myself.
“Enough!” I thought. I swung around and decided to face my stalker. It was an animal. A dog? In the shadows, I could not make out the silhouette of what looked like a great giant that just decided to sit down when I stopped. I carefully began to walk toward it and noticed it sat down. As I approached it, I noticed it was a Great Dane. Joe’s dog! Marlie could not bark.
“Come girl,” I said, petting her gentle head. “Let’s go back to Joe.”
Dec 19, 2010
 Fear in Fog
by: Meena B

It had been raining for a week. The masses of warm and cold air this September seemed to mix together like cocktail drinks making an impenetrable blanket of fog shroud the streets. Everything looked like shadows. I could not recognize the street with the dense fog all around. It seemed eerie and lonely as if I was on ground never travelled before. My long black London fog coat kept me warm underneath as I felt moisture sticking to its surface. Never one to wear head gear, I felt my hair trap the moisture from the mist around me.
It was 2 am. I had worked late. I walked down the street where most of the shops were bistros and specialty stores that closed by 7pm. Except for the bar as my neighbour, the street was quiet. I thought of calling Joe to tell him I am leaving. The car is just three streets away. I will be alright. I began heading towards the car. I needed to walk ten blocks before I made a right turn into a residential street. I was four blocks away from the right turn I needed to take, when I heard it. Footsteps! It seemed at least half a block behind me. I began to panic. Why did I not call Joe? He would have sent me one of his bouncers to walk me to the car. Of all days! I chose not to call him.
“Think!” I said to myself. “Don’t go to your car. Walk toward the main street.” I reasoned in my head.
My heart was pounding; adrenalin helped me quicken my footsteps. I never thought I could walk so fast. I continued to walk on the street and decided to go to the main street up ahead. As I began to hasten the footsteps behind did the same.
“Do not run. Stay focused and get to the main street,” I told myself.
“Enough!” I thought. I swung around and decided to face my stalker. It was an animal. A dog? In the shadows, I could not make out the silhouette of what looked like a great giant that just decided to sit down when I stopped. I carefully began to walk toward it and noticed it sat down. As I approached it, I noticed it was a Great Dane. Joe’s dog! Marlie could not bark.
“Come girl,” I said, petting her gentle head. “Let’s go back to Joe.”
Dec 19, 2010
 My 1st lesson
by: Nafee

It was dark and chill when I walked through the lone road. It snowed little as I slowly strolled down, hugging my arms to survive the cold. My mind was working on various things that clouded into my little head. As I was taking quiet strides, I started to hear quiet fottsteps behind me. I made it sure as I continued to walk. While curoisity was killing me, I fought with my conscience whther to tutn back to look what it is or not. when I continued to hear the footsteps my heart began to beat faster as I badly wanted to turn back and look. It can be both good and bad as well. If it is bad, I might be able to stop the danger that is going to happen. If I don't turn it would be like I gave a chance for the nightmare to happen. Who knows, it could be my knight in shining armour who came to complete me and my life which I'm spending alone. Soon, when hearing the footsteps closer, I stopped walking, took a deep breath and turned to look back.
Dec 18, 2010
 Cold street
by: James B

So, nowhere into a narrative like some of the others (I think I might write a bit slowly!) but was a great exercise in feeling a situation.

It is cold and dark in the sky as I walk down the pavement. The streetlights turn everything a fluorescent monochrome, ice glistening and casting shards of light off the rooftops of cars and patches of pavement. Grit and dirt is crisp under my feet. I am tense, my head pushed down into my coat and breathing into my scarf. I can see the steam filtering through and feel the warm condensation building on my chin. It is uncomfortable and I want to get home quickly. My calves ache slightly from the speed of my walk and my hands are pushing down into my pockets, arms straight, my coat straining down on my shoulders.

Over the low drone of the traffic passing on the main road behind me I hear a scrape of what sounds like someone elses footsteps. My body stiffly rotates slightly but my head stays buried in my scarf and I forge on fast without turning around....
Dec 17, 2010
 Quiet footsteps behind her continued
by: Jill

But the footfalls behind her are at a steady pace, not rushing or in a hurry, just someone walking. ‘Probably someone on their way home, too.’ She thinks. Listening to the sound of the footsteps behind her mingled in with the sound of her own, Shirley is not alarmed by them-deeming them safe. But soon after she heard them quicken and become closer, a little too close. She can feel the hair on the back of her neck stand up and a feeling of urgency in the pit of her gut. All her muscles tighten, her breath quickens. She’s not sure what to do but every cell in her body tells her to run and run fast. She quickens her own step not wanting to look scared but is. The footsteps behind are getting closer and faster, closer & faster, closer& faster. Her only hope of getting away is to run. She makes a decision to look like an idiot instead of possibly being dead and she runs herself, but the footfalls behind her are too fast, they are too close for her to out run. Brow beating herself for not running sooner, she is half convinced she will be murdered. She can smell the acrid odour of her fear. She tried to look over her shoulder but could only see the dark shape of the stranger. Scared out of her mind now, she runs as fast as she can, ‘Almost home.’ She thinks, ‘Almost home, almost home free.’ She still hears the footsteps behind her, she hasn’t gained that much ground, if any. She worries about opening the door, the key will take a moment, do I have enough of a headway to open my door? Will I have to go next door? I should’ve brought my cell phone. Near hysterics, she can feel the sting behind her eyes as the tears well up and blur her vision. She can feel the cold air push aggressively against her wet face and tasted the saltiness of the tear drops rolling down her cheeks and around her nostrils then over her lips. Quickly using the back of her hand to wipe them away she began to run hard, her chest heaving with each breath soon started to hurt, she couldn’t run that fast and breath at the same time-too hard. ‘Oh my God, please help me,’ She heard herself say, ‘I have to stop, I can’t run scared and win.’ “Cross the street.” She heard a toneless voice in her head say. She listened obediently and crossed the street as the voice bid her, not knowing what else to do. Shirley saw the stranger pass her by and run to the next house ahead of her, leapt up the steps and opened the door wide letting the light spill out on the front porch and yells, “Mom, I’m home, I made curfew.” Feeling more than a little foolish and extremely glad no one could see her or knew how she felt, she went home.
Dec 17, 2010
 Quiet footsteps behind her.
by: Jill

On a crisp October evening Shirley talked herself into walking home from the grocery store, instead of hailing a cab, thinking to herself, ‘It is only just two short blocks away and I only have one bag.’ So she started out to walk home dressed in her warm tan suede winter coat and blue jeans. She could feel the prickly cool air rush against her face, making her nose run a little and blow through her thick dark brown hair. She took her time and walked a slow steady pace because she liked the sound of the dry leaves crunching under her shoes. After awhile she pretended the constant crunching sound was the back beat from some long forgotten song and soon the sound become almost hypnotic and soon found herself daydreaming. She came to the only intersection with a traffic light and crosswalk, just around the corner from her house and paused to push the button for the green walk person to light up, signalling that it was safe for her to proceed across. With her mind still semi in her daydream she walked slowly half-way across the street when a car came from around the South corner. She saw the cars head lights but by the time she could physically stop walking, the car sped through the crosswalk, missing her by just inches. Startled, Shirley jumped and almost dropped her bag of groceries; simultaneously her breathing became short and shallow and she could hear her heart beat echoing loud in her ears. By the time she realized what had actually happened, it was all over and the vehicle along with its occupants were long gone. For one timeless moment, Shirley could do nothing but stand alone in the cold street-lit crosswalk and couldn’t help but feel a little abandoned and slightly unwarranted in the scheme of things, left there only to stare at the tail lights of the vehicle that almost hit her. When she could only see the red glow clouded over by her own breath then she proceeded to the other side of the street. She placed her bag down on the ground with a quiet thud and stood there for a moment taking in three big gulps of the chilling air to calm her racing heart and stop her legs from feeling like spaghetti. ‘Ok, now I’m ready.’ She thought to herself as she picked her bag up from off the cold leaf-littered ground. After taking a few more steps and hearing the crunch in each of them, she gently reminded herself not to get caught up in a daydream. One lonely crunching step after another, she finally made it to the corner of the street she lived on. “Almost there.” She breathed more than said to herself. As she rounded the corner she heard quiet footsteps crunching behind her.
Dec 17, 2010
 Quiet footsteps behind her.
by: Jill

On a crisp October evening Shirley talked herself into walking home from the grocery store, instead of hailing a cab, thinking to herself, ‘It is only just two short blocks away and I only have one bag.’ So she started out to walk home dressed in her warm tan suede winter coat and blue jeans. She could feel the prickly cool air rush against her face, making her nose run a little and blow through her thick dark brown hair. She took her time and walked a slow steady pace because she liked the sound of the dry leaves crunching under her shoes. After awhile she pretended the constant crunching sound was the back beat from some long forgotten song and soon the sound become almost hypnotic and soon found herself daydreaming. She came to the only intersection with a traffic light and crosswalk, just around the corner from her house and paused to push the button for the green walk person to light up, signalling that it was safe for her to proceed across. With her mind still semi in her daydream she walked slowly half-way across the street when a car came from around the South corner. She saw the cars head lights but by the time she could physically stop walking, the car sped through the crosswalk, missing her by just inches. Startled, Shirley jumped and almost dropped her bag of groceries; simultaneously her breathing became short and shallow and she could hear her heart beat echoing loud in her ears. By the time she realized what had actually happened, it was all over and the vehicle along with its occupants were long gone. For one timeless moment, Shirley could do nothing but stand alone in the cold street-lit crosswalk and couldn’t help but feel a little abandoned and slightly unwarranted in the scheme of things, left there only to stare at the tail lights of the vehicle that almost hit her. When she could only see the red glow clouded over by her own breath then she proceeded to the other side of the street. She placed her bag down on the ground with a quiet thud and stood there for a moment taking in three big gulps of the chilling air to calm her racing heart and stop her legs from feeling like spaghetti. ‘Ok, now I’m ready.’ She thought to herself as she picked her bag up from off the cold leaf-littered ground. After taking a few more steps and hearing the crunch in each of them, she gently reminded herself not to get caught up in a daydream. One lonely crunching step after another, she finally made it to the corner of the street she lived on. “Almost there.” She breathed more than said to herself. As she rounded the corner she heard quiet footsteps crunching behind her.
Dec 17, 2010
 Lesson 2
by: J.Eve


It's a sin (Part 2)

“Si granmama, sleep in my own bed, I can’t wait” he said in a full grin with eyes opened wide.

“Tomorrow bright and early we will load the truck with everybody, and start back the long journey. We had a good harvest season, the money will last all winter till next spring when we come up again.” Victor announced joyfully.

This was the family’s only means of income. Back in the small town where they came from there was nothing for work in the winter.

Diego began chatting eagerly “Oh boy, back to school, learn more English, history, and math. I like school, it’s the other kids I don’t like.” Diego lowered his head to the floor as if ashamed of his cast in life.

“Why do you say that Diego, they seem friendly?” Luz said.

Diego’s eyes fixed sternly on granmama Luz’s face. “I’m talking about the other’s that don’t have to come and be on their knees from sun up till sun down.”

Granmama Luz was shocked to hear Diego remarks and stated. “Diego we are a poor but happy family. When I was young nothing but fear and heartaches, you never knew what would happen, never any peace.”

Granpapa interrupted Luz before she would remember the painful past. “Diego, one who has a happy heart and a peaceful mind has a true treasure of life. We work with nature and harvest the bounty, our work feeds many.”

Diego realizing now that his remark had shown a lack of appreciation for what the family could provide, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I meant the way others treat us, just because we work in dirt doesn’t mean we are the dirt beneath their feet.”

“Diego, Diego” Granpapa Victor extended an arm motion while grabbing his grey hair and a facial frown. “Why are you angry with others? Everyone suffers with their own fate.”

Diego returned with a quick remark. “Granmama and papa they treat me bad, as if being poor was a sin, or criminal.”

The evening mist engulfed the small cottage, Diego lying on the cool floor was in contemplation of his night’s action. “There has got to be a better world out there somewhere.”
Dec 17, 2010
 lesson 2
by: J. Eve


It's a sin (Part 1)

The wind blew briskly as the trees ruffled like the dancing of miniature ballerinas. It was a cool October evening with the moon starting its nocturnal rise to its zenith. The stars are in an abundance of twinkling arrayed patterns, filling the vastness of the night’s domain.

“Diego!” a voice called from the small cottage that is used by the migrant workers during the harvest season.

“Si granmama?” he answered back in a questioning tone. Diego had always lived with his grandmother, and grandfather. His parental family had been missing for many years, whereabouts unknown. “It’s almost time to eat,” the voice exclaimed.

Granmama Luz was a woman who also knew nothing of her parents. She was raised in the migrant family lifestyle, traveling from picking field to picking field. She never had the opportunity to learn to read and write, much less learn English.

Granmama Luz uttered in a low tone to herself “That boy is always alone, staring up at the night sky, like he is looking for some flying saucer.”

Granpapa Victor overheard her comment and said, “You know, Luz, that boy is different, he don’t play with the other children. He works harder than the others his age without a single complaint, and he’s respectful to all.”

“I know, I know” Luz remarked. “He looks so sad; he’s just so serious all the time Victor.”

Granpapa Victor is the elder of the migrant family, the unit’s contact to the farmers. His English skills were no more than a second grade level, but he could bargain with them to get work.

“Ah Luz maybe he still thinks about when she dropped him off at the front porch, and drove off without an explanation, or a goodbye,” Victor said, his voice quivering.

“That black-hearted daughter of ours, she never cared about anything but herself.” Luz exclaimed in a dishearten voice.

Diego entered the dimly lit room where a small table was set with a bowl of beans, and rice centered on a platter. His demeanor quiet and subdued as if his mind was searching for answers to the world’s problems.

“Diego are you ready to leave, and go back home?” Luz asked.
Dec 17, 2010
 Lesson 1 submission part 4
by: Tracey

When the main back doors weren’t open, I had to use the staircase near the medical library that led directly to the bagel shop on the second story. That staircase was located on the side of the hospital, away from lights and winded along the side of the building. I hated using that staircase because it was dark and provided little visibility of the main hospital parking lot and no way of knowing if anyone was waiting on the staircase. Today, the backdoors hadn’t been opened.

I made my way over to the side stairwell, glancing over my shoulder as I walked. I still couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched as I entered further into the shadows. My hear began to race a little faster as I rounded the corner of the building, completely blocking myself from view of the other entrances and the parking lot, toward the side stair rail. The stair case was arranged so that you had to round a tall brick wall to reach it. I slowed down and tried to listen to see if anyone may be on the other side.


Dec 17, 2010
 Lesson 1 submission part 3
by: Tracey

I hastened my pace, in part to hurry and get to work, and in large part because I wanted to be inside, not on a deserted campus where brick buildings provided blind spots at every turn, and certainly not on the road leading down to the hospital which was in a valley compared to the rest of the campus. The main part of the campus was bad enough, but the road to the hospital was like entering an abyss. There were few street lights and once I disappeared over the hill it was impossible to see the main street. I really appreciated the days I was late enough to have a few pre-med or nursing students sharing the walk with me, or early enough that a co-worker would pass and let me know that I wasn’t on this dark road alone. This dark road flanked by a museum on one side and a wooded path, used as a day time short cut, on the other, heading to the hospital entrance that no one but food service and janitorial employees used before 8 a.m. I was neither late enough nor close to being on time enough to expect company on the road today.

I quickened my pace even more, as fast as I could walk without running down the steep hill leading to the hospital. I couldn’t say why I felt more uneasy that day them most, probably the fog. I hated the way my feet echoed on the sidewalk, made it hard to tell if others were behind me. Many a time I had been startled by someone coming up behind me or speeding down the hill on their bike. After I made it to the hospital, depending on what time I arrived I may be able to go in through the main back doors if I was late enough, they didn’t open to at least 6:30 a.m. Going through the main back doors meant ascending the steps in the back of the hospital that were often used as a place to eat lunch or relax by personnel. The steps were built into the side of a hill and wide enough that people could sit on the grassy patches between steps. The doors the steps led to were flanked by ceiling high windows so that the light from the hospital cast a glow over the steps in the early morning.

Dec 17, 2010
 Lesson 1 submission part 2
by: Tracey

I jumped into my black jeans, brown Bagel-company logoed shirt, grey-blue New Balance cross trainers, and brown visor in less than five minutes, and was out the door by 6:10 a.m. I would only be 25 minutes late, right on time by my standards. The morning air was typical of a Florida fall morning, it lay heavy with fog and the humidity had me sweating within a few minutes. It was still dark out and very few cars or people were stirring. The area right around my housing co-operative was one of the spots I hated the most in the early morning. The co-op was located in an area known as the student ghetto because it once housed a lot of low income housing for students, but no the co-op was almost all that was left of the places affordable to more working class students, the rest of the “ghetto” had been replaced by high rises more geared towards students pledging Tri Delta and Phi Kappa than those receiving Pell Grants and reliant on the lottery funded scholarships. But at this time of morning, the gentrification surrounding the last bastion of poor student space was the least of my concerns. The co-op set back from the road and there was little light in the immediate area. In order to get to the main road, I had to walk a short distance in almost complete darkness past large bushes and closed businesses.

I made my way across the deserted campus to work. One of the reasons I made it a habit to be late was because I hated cutting across the campus to work so early in the morning, when not even the street cleaners were astir. Two things had been impressed upon me before I left for school: college campuses are dangerous and early morning is more dangerous than late night because fewer people are out. I hardly needed those reminders from my mother because they were with me every time I heard about a mugging, such a friend who was robbed while walking home from work at 3 in the morning, or a jogger attacked at 7 in the morning. My mother would have freaked if I had let her know what time I had to be to work each morning, so I fudged the hours to make them more palatable to her over the phone.

It was mostly a straight path to my job, just past the main library, across the park where Hare Krishna served up vegetarian meals during lunch time to students and faculty sprawled out on blankets or bare grass to enjoy their lunch and/or get a few minutes of sunlight in between marathon study sessions at the library, and then down the road leading past the bell tower down to the hospital where I worked at the Bagel Factory. It is unfortunate indeed when med students are kept waiting even a minute past 7 for their coffee.
Dec 17, 2010
 Lesson 1 submission part 1
by: Tracey

“Crap, I’m going to be late again,” I said to myself as though the situation was somehow unusual. After more than six months working at the Bagel Factory, I had gotten there at 6:00 a.m., the time my shift was suppose to start, on exactly one occasion: the day my manager had asked me to come in early. Had I shown up on time it is likely I would have caused one or more of my more punctual co-workers to have a mini-stroke. Best not to upset the natural order of things.

I fumbled around in the dim light, trying desperately not to wake my roommate. Our beds were rather oddly arranged. A loft covered pretty much the entirety of the room we shared so that our beds had to be placed beneath the carpet-covered loft and our sleeping space divided by a wood wall. We got additional privacy from curtains at the entrance to our separate sides of what was affectionately known as the cave by former inhabitants of the room. It was actually a rather fortunate arrangement in some ways. Our old room, the one we shared before that hall was converted into the boys only hall and the girls on that floor were moved upstairs, was more standard with twin beds on opposing sides of the room. The lofts were built like bunk beds with our beds on top and desks on the bottom. In order to get dressed, I had to either turn on the light which ran the risk of waking her, or get my clothes in the dark and creep out to the communal bathroom at the end of the hallway to get dressed. Sometimes I would forget things or the door would slam when I went from our room to the hallway, which would have the same affect as turning on the light in our room. Because of the cave set up we currently share, I can turn on the small lamp on my side of the divide, draw back my privacy curtain just a little, and have enough light to grab my clothes by and get dressed without casting light on her side, and without having to leave and re-enter the room.
Dec 17, 2010
 Lesson 1 submission part 1
by: Tracey

“Crap, I’m going to be late again,” I said to myself as though the situation was somehow unusual. After more than six months working at the Bagel Factory, I had gotten there at 6:00 a.m., the time my shift was suppose to start, on exactly one occasion: the day my manager had asked me to come in early. Had I shown up on time it is likely I would have caused one or more of my more punctual co-workers to have a mini-stroke. Best not to upset the natural order of things.

I fumbled around in the dim light, trying desperately not to wake my roommate. Our beds were rather oddly arranged. A loft covered pretty much the entirety of the room we shared so that our beds had to be placed beneath the carpet-covered loft and our sleeping space divided by a wood wall. We got additional privacy from curtains at the entrance to our separate sides of what was affectionately known as the cave by former inhabitants of the room. It was actually a rather fortunate arrangement in some ways. Our old room, the one we shared before that hall was converted into the boys only hall and the girls on that floor were moved upstairs, was more standard with twin beds on opposing sides of the room. The lofts were built like bunk beds with our beds on top and desks on the bottom. In order to get dressed, I had to either turn on the light which ran the risk of waking her, or get my clothes in the dark and creep out to the communal bathroom at the end of the hallway to get dressed. Sometimes I would forget things or the door would slam when I went from our room to the hallway, which would have the same affect as turning on the light in our room. Because of the cave set up we currently share, I can turn on the small lamp on my side of the divide, draw back my privacy curtain just a little, and have enough light to grab my clothes by and get dressed without casting light on her side, and without having to leave and re-enter the room.

Dec 14, 2010
 Charlie - Part I
by: Raven

Charlie slings the dirty bar towel over her shoulder and then shuts the register drawer with a ching, she flicks the switch on the wall beside her and the bright neon lights in the front window flicker, fade and go black. Charlie tosses the wet towel into the hamper underneath the wooden bar, she grabs a set of keys that are hanging on a hook next to the register, she grabs her flannel jacket and heads to the front door, she turns to lock the door as she pulls it shut, drops the keys into her front blue jean pocket and turns onto Collins Blvd, walking at a steady pace she breathes in the night air.

She heads left onto Lincoln Avenue and moves steadily through the warm thick air and crosses over a small bridge that is lined with ancient bricks and stones, her leather boots click softly with each step as she crosses the bridge that lands her onto Carson Square, there she takes a right onto Canterbury Lane, an eerily dark and quiet street, that most, with any sense at all, avoid at these late hours. Canterbury Lane is where Charlie always hears the footsteps behind her, always at this same time of night, she chooses to ignore the sounds behind her, which are coming from the blackness.

Charlie boldly walks through the dark night, down Canterbury Lane, she turns left into a cobblestone driveway lined with draping willow trees and heads through a narrow pathway that suddenly stops at the base of old metal stairs. She carefully climbs the hollow sounding stairs up to the second floor, lightly taps on the window next to the front door and waits.

The door creaks open and a large hand invites Charlie inside. Marco stands six foot four, he towers over her five foot five thin frame, they both hungrily look each other over, and her clothes are off within seconds and the two frantically drop together onto a black velvet couch.

Marco is immediately inside of her, he is a force of nature, which is what Charlie most loves about him, he is everything that she craves and wants in a man, he’s married, and this to Charlie is his most redeeming quality, besides his steady rock hard availability. He kisses her deeply, arches his head back thrusting deeply as her nails dig into his bare back, they quietly climax together, then in a whisper he tells her “I love you.” Charlie knows that’s her queue to leave.

“Get the fuck out of here you bitch!” “I told you to stop coming around here!” A woman screeches as the bedroom door down the hallway bangs open against the wall, plaster crumbles onto the carpeting below the hole in the wall that the doorknob just made as it crashed into the wall.

It’s the wife, again. In the dimly lit room the couple’s bodies quickly separate, Charlie grabs her jeans, boots and t-shirt and bolts out the front door and onto the metal stairs, she grabs the railing and with a squeal of laughter she practically flies downward three stairs at a time, not looking back she decides to get her flannel jacket next time.
Dec 14, 2010
 Charlie - Part II
by: Raven

Canterbury Lane welcomes Charlie into the wet darkness as her lungs fill with damp air, she walks in silence towards her apartment three blocks west from her lover and his wife’s place.

It feels good to be heading home after a long night of work and play she thinks to herself, as she slows her pace, in the background she can hear a woman screaming obscenities and she hears dishes breaking, Charlie smiles to herself and walks onward into the dark night.

The streetlamps cast a faint glow onto the pavement as Charlie casually strolls toward her soft warm bed waiting in her apartment on Cass Street, three more blocks and she’ll be home.

Echoing behind her, again, she hears the same footsteps that were following her from the bar, Charlie picks up her pace and begins to move steadily toward Cass Street without looking back.

The sound of the footsteps behind her quicken, and with a deep sense of panic Charlie starts to run as fast as she can, the pavement below her feet becomes a blur as she races towards her front gate, her lungs burn as the footsteps behind her in the dark close in, she flings the gate open and in a state of panic she screams as she pushes the front door open.

Jasmine, Charlie’s roommate, is nestled in a leopard print bean bag chair in the corner of the room, she’s holding a book in one hand, with the other she drags hard on a clove cigarette, a red light bulb glows softly underneath a tasseled lampshade next to her, she blinks and looks up at Charlie, who is standing in the front doorway panting and out of breath, bent and gripping her stomach.

Jasmine smiles as Charlie slams the door shut, locks it and slides the chain into place. Breathing heavily, Charlie leans her back onto the door with her eyes closed. Jasmine gets up, walks over to Charlie, puts her arms around Charlie, kisses her lightly on the mouth, and whispers “its OK Charlie, its not real, you know its not real, its just your imagination again, remember what the doctor said.” Charlie opens her eyes and looks deeply into Jasmine’s face, a smirk forms on Charlie’s mouth, she bends her head and breathes a sigh of relief into Jasmine’s neck.

Jasmine takes Charlie by the hand and leads her across the floor and into the bedroom where they lay down together on the bed. Charlie’s head buries into the soft pillow, she drapes her thin leg over Jasmines waist, as Jasmine gently strokes Charlie’s forehead with delicate fingers, Jasmine drifts into sleep, as Charlie stares in silence at the ceiling.

Outside in the damp dark night, a shadow moves across the sidewalk in front of the house, past the gate, and the sound of footsteps fade into the darkness.

Dec 14, 2010
 The Lonely Footprints
by: Laurie

The sun blazed down on the sandy road as Temba returned from the market place. Five Pula doesn't buy what it used to, she complained to herself. The bag of mielie meal seemed to balance magically on her head as she walked along the lonely road swinging the plastic shopping bag filled with the few other necessities she managed to purchase at the market – a small packet of tea, a bit of sugar, and, of course, tobacco for papa.

The road, well, actually the pathway, wound through the bushveld. Occasional thorn trees and scrub brush stood along sides of the pathway. It had been months since the last rain and it would be at least another month before the first rains of this season. Temba wondered why Botswana called their money “Pula” which meant “rain” when rain was so scarce in the country.

The hot Kalahari winds blew fresh sand onto the road. Temba's footprints in the sand were the first since the wind had started to blow earlier this morning. Left. Right. Left. Right. She turned around to see the virgin trail she had made along the pathway.

The wind made the trees rustle. It was a lonely sound. Sometimes the wind could almost be a high pitched whistle. And other times it was almost a low growl. Left. Right. Left. Right.

As she reached the a bend in the pathway, the sound of the wind changed again. Hah, she giggled listening to the wind, that almost sounds like papa when he's relaxing after a big dinner. “Just digesting”, he would always say slightly embarrassed. Left. Right. Left. Right.

In the distance Temba saw a bus coming towards her creating a dust storm in its wake. That's odd, she thought, why is that bus flashing its lights. In the distance, she heard the bus hooting. Why is it making so much noise, she wondered. She stood beside the road, wondering why the bus was making so much disturbance.

The bus continued to roar towards Temba with flashing lights and hooter blasting. It eventually came abreast to her and slammed on its brakes and open the door. “Get in! Get in!” the bus driver shouted “Now! Now! Now!”. Temba quickly got in and the bus crawled forward a few more metres.

“Look, sussie,” the bus driver said pointing down to Temba's footprints in the sand.

And Temba saw the lion prints superimposed on her own footprints in the virgin sand.
Dec 12, 2010
 Breakfast
by: leandro

Introduction note: I did this exercise 4 times. When it come to writting, I realised 10 minutes weren't enough to finish, so I wrote the end in a rush.(with no editing) But this is all I could see splashing in my eyes.
Would be good to have some feedback,
Thanks for reading.

I must have turned the wrong left, I was on my way to meet Peter for that anxious breakfast he had promise me. He had been promising a breakfast at his flat for days now and I kept refusing out of fear. Fear of love? Or fear of myself? Since I got divorced, that is hard for me to have someone else in my life. Since Jonathan’s death, that my life has been quiet and, I guess, I took for granted that life is hard and is what it is. Above all, I think when we reach a certain age, love doesn’t knock us on the door anymore. I’m happy the way I am, I’ve got my career, my cats, I do what I want, besides, Peter is ten years younger than me.

Perhaps, I need to walk further. The end of the road will indicate me where to turn. It’s hard to concentrate on this streets when your mind is somewhere else, namely, what’s gonna happen?

‘Oh good… how am I suppose to know where to turn? This doesn’t even resemble the map I saw online. Well, it must be that little street, nearly sure’ I’d kept walking and suddenly I sensed someone behind me. The footsteps and the breath were getting closer and closer. ‘Peter’ I thought, and suddenly turning back to where the sound come, this gentleman ’Sorry If I scared you, wasn’t my intention’ walked faster than lightning. ‘it’s ok, can you help me: Milton street’
‘This one lady’ and he kept walking in his rush footsteps as before. Eureka, Peter waving from the window.
‘Heya, come on in’ said he from the window and rushing to the door. Once in the stairs, with my heart pumping, I recessed myself. From the moment I walked through I knew what was about to happen. ‘Looking thoughtful’ he said.





















Dec 11, 2010
 Tammy
by: Raven

Tammy stands five feet one inch tall, her long brown hair falls just above her scrawny thin waist. She wears frayed blue jean cutoffs just above her scuffed up knobby knees. Her feet are bare and dirty, she prides herself on being a tom boy and being able to keep up with all the boys on the block such as skateboarding, tree climbing, rock throwing, and of course being able to effortlessly spit across the train tracks that run right through her family’s back yard.
Danny is one of Tammy’s best friends, he’s tall, dark haired and good-looking. Danny lives three houses down from hers, and he can usually be found playing baseball two blocks over in a dusty field that is marked off with four bases made out of small wooden slats, but today, Danny has other things on his mind besides baseball.
On a cool clear evening Tammy and Danny race across her yard through the chill of the night air, they race to see who can climb to the top of the garage roof first, Danny scales the white trellis with ease, as Tammy strains to keep up. He reaches the top first, balances himself on the ledge of the roof, turns around and offers his hand to Tammy.
They sit in silence on the far end of the garage roof, gazing up into the dark sky, watching the flickering stars, and saying nothing. Tammy leans back on her elbows, tilts her head back and stares straight up into the night, she closes her eyes, and makes a silent wish. Tammy opens her eyes and looks up at Danny, who has just moved his body close to hers.
Danny gazes down into her brown skinned face, he quietly leans over, gently takes her small chin into his hand as he looks deeply into her curious brown eyes, tilts her chin up as his mouth covers hers.
Tammy’s eyes spring wide open as she pulls away, shocked, appalled, not at all sure what to say to her good friend Danny. She’s horrified that he just put his wet tongue into her mouth. Tammy jumps up and bolts across the roof, she quickly scrambles down the rickety trellis, and scampers across the dark yard and into her house, slamming the screen door behind her.
For days Tammy stays hidden inside her room, not daring to go outside. That’s where Danny is, gross, no way is she going out there so he can stick his tongue in her mouth again.
Tammy is eleven years old, she sits alone in her room on an old wooden chair, chin between her bent knees, a ray of sunlight shines through the dirty tattered curtain, it lands on her toes as she stares down at them.
Danny, who is twelve, stands outside her window, singing “Cecilia you’re breakin my heart, you’re shakin my confidence daily…”
Tammy just wants Danny to go away now, but, he doesn’t…
Dec 10, 2010
 Simple
by: A.Y

Chilly, it felt so chilly that morning. The tree's bark rough against my palm, I hesitated at the thought of climbing all the way up, my toe pointing towards the ground feeling for solid ground. “Don’t worry, I got you.” His warm, reliable hands on my waist. “Go on, we’ll miss it at the rate you’re going.”
“Shut up.” I barked at him. His low chuckle made me determined to make it and show him what I was capable of. In less than two minutes, my hand was reaching towards the first branch.
“One down!” He yelled from below. “Two more to go.”
Sweat glistened my forehead, the smell of fresh pine in the morning filled my lungs with clean air I couldn’t get anywhere back in the city. Birds chirping in the distance reminded me of the beauty of nature. Without a glance down, I made my way up. I wasn’t nervous at all because I knew he was right behind me.
“Finally,” I gasped for air. That morning’s cold air hit my lungs and I was energized. “We made it just in time.” The first rays of sunlight filled the sky with the hope of something new and exciting. His arms rested on my shoulder protectively. Trees flocked our view leading to the sea where it rested in the horizon. The sun and the ocean met. Happiness overwhelmed me, how long have I not enjoyed the simple things in life? Never had I stop to admire the flowers by the shop windows, never did I take a sip of coffee and just tasted it completely. But it was different that day, he was there. “Stunning.” I breathed, a thousand words could describe the view at that moment, but I was at a loss of words at the moment.
His warm hand squeezed mine. Words need not be spoken. Dewy green eyes, floppy blond hair and his best feature yet, a dimple on his left cheek. That dimple deepened as he lean forward. Our lips met as the sun crept out of its sanctuary brightening our hearts when we needed it the most.
Fears painfully strike me hard in the chest when he pulled away. “Don’t let go.” I whispered. A cold gust of wind whipped my hair around as tears made their way down my cheeks. My arms wrapped tightly around the tree’s bark. Grief overcame my heart, my heart, aching for him once again.
Dec 10, 2010
 No Need to be Afraid
by: Starlyn Berry

It was a cold night. Not cold enough to pull on a heavy winter coat, but just enough to wear a light jacket and a scarf.

I pull my scarf tighter around my neck as the wind picks up, chilling me a bit as I turned a corner. The street lamps overhead started turning on one by one down the long stretch of city street, signifying that the sun would soon be going down.

And it was. The sun, setting in front of me behind a vast expansion of buildings of all sizes, cast a red-orange glow on my face, warming at least some part of me for the moment.

I kept on walking, my pace nice and slow. I was in no hurry, no rush to get home; it was nice out and I wanted to enjoy this time outside of my four-walled cell I locked myself in at night; a.k.a. home.

The afternoon slowly faded into evening. People rushed by on foot and by car to get home to their happy families, hot dinners, and the safety of their warm homes.

Me - I have no one to go home to. Not unless you want to count my five pound, long haired Chihuahua, Bear. He had his playful moments where he wouldn't let me rest and moments when he would be all cuddly and just want love. But for the most part…he was lazy.

So yea. I guess you could say I do have someone to go home to.

But as the sun set further and the night air got colder, I noticed something.

I was alone on the street.

The lights over-head gave me my path, but I was alone with the occasional car that passed by on the street.

Though I continued my walk. Not letting the dark or the fact that I was alone bother me in any way.

That was….until I heard footsteps behind me.

Upon first hearing them I don't mind them. It's almost welcoming in the quiet, cool night air. Plus to add; they were quite a distance away.

But as time dragged on and I got closer to home, the footsteps got closer to me and much louder. Echoing off the walls of the buildings surrounding me and this heavy-footed stranger behind me.

So I quickened my pace. Thinking it was either my own imagination or I was freaking out for no reason. Who knew. But all I knew was that I wanted to get home now.

After awhile I could see my building, I could see my door and the light I left on for Bear.

I slipped my hand into my pocket, slipping keys between my fingers just like my mother taught me in case I had nothing to defend myself with.

The steps got closer and the wind picked up.

Heart pounding, I finally darted up the steps, pulled my keys from my pocket, opened the door and slipped inside, closing it and locking it.

I leaned against it with a sigh, trying to calm my pounding heart and happened to look out the window as the mysterious footsteps passed under a light.

It was the little old man from down the street.
Dec 07, 2010
 Deserted Island
by: Christy

I was walking down North 7th street, which was dark and ominous. The sidewalk was cracked and aged due to time and weather. Usually October is pretty scary but this mid November was bad enough. At first, I was daydreaming about my next date wity Orlando. I love how his name rolls off my tongue. He is tall dark and handsome. He had dark frizzy black hair, beautiful brown eyes. He is all I could think about. My thoughts consist of this man. Then all of a sudden I hear this foreboding behind me. The sound was a clickety-clak like stellettos. The strange footsteps seemed to be only a few footsteps behind me. I reached in the black endless hole of my black purse for my keys. At this time I am freaking out. I put my Chevy Cobalt keys between a pointer finger and middle finger. I decide to assess this predicament. I peered over my right side but I could only see the dark shadows of the night. I decided to look on the other side of my face.
During my investigation I came up with zilch. This thought scared me to no end. I burrowed in my jacket. I kept picturing my two beautiful babies. They were with my parents so I knew they were safe. My second thought was to call the police. That's another story.
An idea came to mind, which is to change sidewalks. I moved to a steady pace. I walked up to the North 10th street. Stories about this street were worse. I jumped around to see who my preditor was.
To my joyous surprise it was a mixed breed puppy, which looked at the first time I would say he is a lab and pit mixed. This puppy has to e around two months to four month old. The coat on this dog was a marble color of a pretty brown and white fur. His eyes looked to me as green eyes. To my dismay the poor helpless dog had the six pack ring of a can drink wrapped in his pay. I slowly approached the dog.
So I took it upon myself and decided to let the dog go. He fought me for a few seconds not know ing what was to transpire. I finally was able to set the puppy free of this intanglement. Once free he happily licked me and then took off in anohter direction.
Once in awhile I see the lone dog wandering the steets of 7th and 10th street. The god doesnt seem to inow me. I am happy that this was a good ending.
Dec 06, 2010
 Jester Cinnamon and Me
by: J. Eve

Lesson 1: Daydreaming exercise
Comments: I sat back and thought of my time as a cowboy working on a huge cattle ranch outside of Cotulla, Texas. I remembered of the time when I was alone or thought I was alone. This day could have gone very bad for me, miles away from any help.

Jester Cinnamon and Me

Poking cattle out of the brush was not the aspiration of my life. My horse, Jester was hot and needed to cool off. We walked to a nearby thinly branched mesquite tree, where a cinnamon hued one-year-old calf grazed.

The solitude of this open range, with its wide open sky, made me feel as one with the elements, parched and scorched. I removed the saddle from my horse, and placed it on the ground. My rifle, rope, and blanket I tossed to the other side of Jester.

Suddenly the horse reared, Jester whinnied and stomped his feet. Turning my back, there he stood near a pile of old creosote posts, a huge mountain lion. Time seemed frozen, as the cat measured us. I glanced from the corner of my eye, Jester and the cinnamon calf were glancing back at me as to imply, what you goanna do!

That huge cat will turn me into his chow bag before I can get to my weapon. The cat paced, its muscles rippling. Jester reared again, and the calf let out an anxious groan. In solidarity we stood challenging the cougar.

With the westwardly sun’s piercing glare, we never took our eyes off the big puma. His gaze placed fear into us. If we scattered it would be easy picking for him. The huge cat’s growling and hissing sent chills into us. Jester reared up again, kicking the air wildly, while the cinnamon calf stood at attention like a solider geared for battle.

The mountain lion began to slink into an attack manner, like the beginning of a blitzkrieg of teeth, claws, and raw power. My comrades’ in arms vociferously cried out in protest of the cat’s aggression. What an idea! Jester and Cinnamon were trying to be louder than the huge cat could screech.

I began to jump up and down kicking dust from the ground. Screaming in my loudest tones, and waving my arms in a taunting fashion. I took my cowboy belt off, with its big buckle. The heavy belt buckle made a supernatural noise as I flung it round, and round. This whish whoosh sound over, and over, louder, and louder.

Suddenly Jester began buck kicking his back legs, then rearing up to his front legs. The cinnamon calf became a wild bull like at the rodeo, with a rider on his back. What a sight to see for the big cat. We were louder and more animated than the cat. Suddenly it stopped its advance, staring at each of us, and turned around.

Walking away, the big cat shook its head, in disbelief. I could sense it felt there was easier preying elsewhere.
Dec 02, 2010
 Kerry
by: brande

Kerry aged four, sat quietly next to her mother, listening to one of her favorite stories.

Kerry quickly glanced up at stared at her mother. She knew that her mommy’s real name was Karen Hamilton; however she was just mommy to her. Kerry thought that her mommy was the prettiest mommy in the world. She had flame red hair, deep blue eyes, and brown spots that sprawled across her cheeks and nose. Mommy called them freckles.

Kerry's father, Dan was loading the station wagon. She thought also that her father was the best looking man in the world. He was taller than her and mommy and had coal black hair, and dark brown eyes. His eyes always sparkled.

Kerry loved going to the cottage,, because mommy or daddy would take her to the beach where she could walk through the warm sand, or water in the water. At times, daddy would help her build a sandcastle.

Kerry went back to listening to the story. She had missed the favorite part, but knew it by heart. She had a secret and planned to surprise mommy and daddy tomorrow at the cottage.

“Kerry, bedtime now, have to get up early tomorrow.” Mommy said as she put the book down

“Ok mommy” Kerry rubbed her eyes, and picked up her stuffed rabbit and headed toward her bedroom.

Kerry heard the alarm sound and knew it was finally morning. She picked up her toy rabbit and marched off to the kitchen. Mommy had her favorite cereal and orange juice set out for her, Daddy and mommy ate breakfast, with her. After she finished eating, mommy helped her dress.

They went out to the car and climbed in. Kerry sat in her safety seat in the backseat. She loved sitting in the seat, because she could see out the window, She hugged her rabbit and told him “Guess what, we will be there soon”

After arriving at the cottage, mommy told her that she could play in the yard, however she was no to go to the beach without her or daddy. Her daddy and mommy carried the suitcases into the cottage. Once in the cottage, Karen started to unpack the suitcases.

“Karen would you like a cup of coffee; I’m going to make a pot?”
“Yes, can you see Kerry from that window? I just don’t want her sneaking off to the beach by herself.”
“It’s ok, I see her. She’s running in circles, trying to catch something.”
“Oh no!” Karen gasped, and ran out the door.

Karen watched as Kerry picked up a frog and kissed it and then put it down, and made an awful face.
“Kerry what are you doing”
“Mommy I kissed ump-teen frogs and not one turned into a prince.” Kerry stated while wiping her hand across her mouth. “Mommy the frogs give icky kisses, ugh”

“Come on Kerry, lets get your hands and face washed, it’s time for lunch.”

They walked into the cottage, and Kerry went into the bathroom to wash her hands and face. Dan looked at his wife, who was now laughing very hard.
“Karen what’s so funny? What did she do now?” asked Dan
“Do you remember the story about the princess and the frog? Well….”



Dec 02, 2010
 Kerry
by: brande

Kerry aged four, sat quietly next to her mother, listening to one of her favorite stories.

Kerry quickly glanced up at stared at her mother. She knew that her mommy’s real name was Karen Hamilton; however she was just mommy to her. Kerry thought that her mommy was the prettiest mommy in the world. She had flame red hair, deep blue eyes, and brown spots that sprawled across her cheeks and nose. Mommy called them freckles.

Kerry's father, Dan was loading the station wagon. She thought also that her father was the best looking man in the world. He was taller than her and mommy and had coal black hair, and dark brown eyes. His eyes always sparkled.

Kerry loved going to the cottage,, because mommy or daddy would take her to the beach where she could walk through the warm sand, or water in the water. At times, daddy would help her build a sandcastle.

Kerry went back to listening to the story. She had missed the favorite part, but knew it by heart. She had a secret and planned to surprise mommy and daddy tomorrow at the cottage.

“Kerry, bedtime now, have to get up early tomorrow.” Mommy said as she put the book down

“Ok mommy” Kerry rubbed her eyes, and picked up her stuffed rabbit and headed toward her bedroom.

Kerry heard the alarm sound and knew it was finally morning. She picked up her toy rabbit and marched off to the kitchen. Mommy had her favorite cereal and orange juice set out for her, Daddy and mommy ate breakfast, with her. After she finished eating, mommy helped her dress.

They went out to the car and climbed in. Kerry sat in her safety seat in the backseat. She loved sitting in the seat, because she could see out the window, She hugged her rabbit and told him “Guess what, we will be there soon”

After arriving at the cottage, mommy told her that she could play in the yard, however she was no to go to the beach without her or daddy. Her daddy and mommy carried the suitcases into the cottage. Once in the cottage, Karen started to unpack the suitcases.

“Karen would you like a cup of coffee; I’m going to make a pot?”
“Yes, can you see Kerry from that window? I just don’t want her sneaking off to the beach by herself.”
“It’s ok, I see her. She’s running in circles, trying to catch something.”
“Oh no!” Karen gasped, and ran out the door.

Karen watched as Kerry picked up a frog and kissed it and then put it down, and made an awful face.
“Kerry what are you doing”
“Mommy I kissed ump-teen frogs and not one turned into a prince.” Kerry stated while wiping her hand across her mouth. “Mommy the frogs give icky kisses, ugh”

“Come on Kerry, lets get your hands and face washed, it’s time for lunch.”

They walked into the cottage, and Kerry went into the bathroom to wash her hands and face. Dan looked at his wife, who was now laughing very hard.
“Karen what’s so funny? What did she do now?” asked Dan
“Do you remember the story about the princess and the frog? Well….”



Dec 01, 2010
 The Darkened Street
by: brande

This was my second attempt on lesson 1. I tried something differemt, such as closing my eyes as I typed, took longer, however I was able to visualize what I was writing. Needs some corrections but is a rough draft.

After several attempts of trying to start the car, I realized that I was going to have to wall home; at least I lived nearby. I locked the driver’s side of the car and started to walk. The street was poorly lit, and empty. Although, it was not late, the chilling air and darkness of the area put me on edge. I started to imagine all sorts of unearthly creatures hiding in the shadows depth.
I quickened my pace, wishing that the car started and that I was already home. I could hear doges barking in the distance, and somewhere near a cat howled. As I quickened my pace, realizing that I had only a few more blocks to go until I reached my destination, home. I heard quiet footsteps behind me, and envisioned being robbed, or dragged off to some unknown area. I quickly picked up my pace, and felt terror creeping up my spine. However, the foot steps were getting louder and much close. I wanted to run, however my legs felt like lead weights and did not want to move. I had one option left. Finally I turned to see who or what ever was following me, with clenched fists.
I realized that I was being followed by a police office walking his beat. I then let out a sigh of relief.
“Miss, I’ve finally caught up. You dropped your wallet in front of the shop, and I’ve been trying to catch up too you since.”
I, then started to laugh, hysterically. The office probably thought that I was mad, but if he only knew, he would understand.
Dec 01, 2010
 the rest of it...
by: Theresa

“Ha! Surprise, Miss Amy!” He yells, jumping in front of me. “Did I get ya?”
“Oh my!” I reply, stumbling back a few paces and putting my hand to my heart. I’ve become quite the actress this semester. “Corey, where did you come from?”
“I was following you.” He boasted, puffing out his chest. “In the trees. You didn’t know. I surprised you. I am very good at surprising.”
“Yes you are.” I agreed. “Are you ready for school today? The bell is about to ring. Do you want to go in with me?”
“Ok. I want to tell Miss Megan I surprised you. She’ll be proud of Corey. Can I surprise you again tomorrow, Miss Amy?” He looks up at me with his big brown eyes and I realize how much I’ll miss our game this summer.
“Of course you can, Corey.” I tell him. “I love surprises.”
Dec 01, 2010
 Oops. My story took a complete left turn...
by: Theresa

I read the assignment, but didn't write for a few days and the lonely road got dropped in my head and my scene morphed into something completely different, but I'll post it anyways.

It’s Monday, but even that can’t bring down my mood today. To the contrary, I’m looking forward to the next five days. I’m entering the final week of a long, but extremely rewarding and eye-opening school year. The parking lot of Mayfield Elementary is nearly full already as I pull into one of the few remaining open spaces and turn off the engine. I give my little Corolla a pat on the dash as a “thank you” for surviving another commute. I’m looking forward to this fall when I start my first full time teaching job and can upgrade my transportation, although I will miss this car. I think everyone probably feels a little extra attachment to their first car.
I’m surprised to see that Megan’s car is only 3 spaces ahead of mine. As a student teacher, I have the luxury of rolling in minutes before the first bell because I don’t have much to prepare, but Megan Holmes, the Special Ed teacher in whose classroom I’m assisting, is responsible for the lesson planning and she usually gets here an hour before school starts. I hope nothing is wrong.
I stop to tie my shoes and I notice a flash of red dart behind the oak tree in front of Megan’s car. I stay crouched for a few more seconds and listen. I can hear quiet sniggering. I ignore it and start walking toward the school. It’s a glorious spring day and dozens of kids are playing, running, or in the case of the sixth grader, standing in clusters texting on their cell phones. The upcoming summer vacation has been the predominant topic in every classroom this whole month and it’s all we teachers can do to keep our students’ focus.
My sniggerer is definitely following me and not very stealthily. I can see him out the corner of my eye flitting from tree to tree along the row of parked cars, quietly giggling as he goes. Twice I stopped and pretended to look for something in my shoulder bag to see what he’d do and I caught him ducking back out of sight, but I didn’t say anything. This is a game we’ve played many times throughout the year and he’s getting better at it. Corey Peters is one of the kids in Megan’s and my fourth grade class. He has Down’s syndrome and has been obsessed with surprising people ever since his parent’s gave his brother a surprise birthday party. He interrupts lessons by yelling “boo” and then asking if he scared me. He does this probably twice a day. He hides behind his desk at lunchtime and waits for me or Megan to “find” him so he can yell “Surprise” before he gets in line with the other kids. And every morning, he waits behind the same big oak tree and waits for me to drive up. When I get parallel to the last tree, I pause and brace myself.
Nov 28, 2010
 Alone
by: Roni

HI. This is my first assignment.

I decided taking a long walk to clear my head was the best therapy tonight. Afterall arguing was getting us no where. We were not even hearing each other at this point. I grabbed my jacket and set out down Chestnut Street on the way to Royal Lane Park. Good! There was no one on the street to be expected at this time of night. I was glad as I wanted fewer distractions. I walked aimlessly for a while replaying our argument over and over in my head until I heard what sounded like footsteps approaching from behind. Tension rose in my upper body as my ears were pulled to the repeating heavy thumps against the pavement. In response my pace quickened as I listened closer wondering "whose out there and where did they come from?" I instinctively gripped my body to defend a surprise attack. I lost focus on the street ahead and dared to stop and look, fearing what I might find. Instead in panic, I peered over my left shoulder allowing a peripheral view of the path behind me. I suddenly realized I had been holding my breath the entire time. Slowing my pace, I turned fully around to find an empty street devoid of any sound. There was no one there. I exhaled a long breath and sheepishly smiled with relief just before turning to head back home.
Nov 28, 2010
 1st attempt
by: Syed

I was on my way back from Woodlane Shopping Centre when I decided to take a shortcut via Watling lane. I had taken this shortcut before but usually it is during the day. This time, I got a bit carried away with a business proposal by Mike and Jody in Woodlane’s Costa Coffee shop. By the time we finish the discussion, it was nearly dusk.
It wasn’t until I turned into Watling lane that I realised the implications of daylight. Watling lane is about 300 metres long. It starts straight but bends slightly to the left in the last 50 metres into the bustling Bond Street. Along it are abandoned shops and terrace houses with protective metal sheets over their windows. Watling lane was always busy with pedestrians during the day and I had wrongly assumed the same at night. There wasn’t anyone. It was so quite that I could hear water droplets hitting the pavement.
It grew darker as I approach the bend. I realised that my hearing became incredible sensitive as my sight grew helpless. I could almost hear the ant crawling and I can definitely hear every stride no matter how gentle I make my steps.
Hold on! How come there are double strides? Suddenly my thoughts are lost in a sea of panic. I can feel sweat droplets forming in my forehead. The worst possibilities are swirling in my mind; stabbed, strangled, mugged and beaten, my id stolen, my credit cards…
Quick thinking. I must not risk those things happening to me. I ran. I gave everything I had that I would have tripped over a pebble. It feels neverending.
Then there was a sparkle of light. Slowly, the lights of Bond Street began to appear. I reached the end and feeling confident that I am safe now, I turned and there it was – nothing. Absolutely nothing. Or is it? I thought I saw a movement in the dark.
Forget it. I am going back home, I said to myself. Better safe than sorry. But I wonder, am I a smart or a fool? A victim of my wild imagination…
Nov 28, 2010
 1st attempt
by: Shawna

It’s late. I can’t wait to get home, just 2 blocks left. The street is dark and very quiet. My side of the road is lined with cedar hedges. I always imagine myself being attacked by a raccoon or something when I walk home at night. It’s silly, I know. I’m nervous; I don’t like walking alone at night. I hear footsteps behind me and turn to see a man wearing a brimmed hat, tilted to cover his eyes and a trench coat buttoned to the top. His hands are in his pockets and he’s walking quickly toward me. Something in me panics. I try to calm myself down. It’s ok, he’s on his way home just like me. I quicken my pace a little. It’s starting to rain. As I cross the street I think, only 1 block left. The man behind me turns down the side street. My heart is beating fast and I have to stop to take a breath. I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath. I laugh at myself for being so scared. I pull my hood up and pull my jacket tight around me as the wind and rain pick up. With just ½ a block to go, I start to run thinking I might make it home before the downpour. I can see my house now, it’s the big blue one on the corner. The hall light is on. Even though I’m an adult my mother can’t get over the habit of leaving the hall light on for me. Secretly I’m glad, I hate entering a dark house. As I run around the corner to the front of my house a bolt of lightning brightens the night sky. As I glace up at the light display, I run right into something. Flustered I look forward and see the face of the man I saw earlier smiling down at me.
Nov 28, 2010
 walking down a lonely street
by: umapathy

The chillness of late night rain was evident even after the dawn, the water is yet to recede completely. Hemant wearing black overcoat, shoes and glove, was enthusiastic in the early morning ,walked down the street. Looked ahead and everthing looked beautiful. The music he just listened is still playing in his mind, and the taste of coffee is ye to away from his tounge. The music was fantastic and it was about the ghosts, he loved it and continued singing first few lines again and again, often acted like a ghost. He looked back at the empty street, imagined a ghost appearing at the end of the street, laughed at it, made fun of it and sang the first line of the song to it “I want to kill you .. the ghost”. He continued walking, he looked at the end of the street, between few homes and lampposts, and the place now appeared like a graveyard. In sheer silence, he felt alone in this world. Fear gripping his navel, his heart started beating faster. I am brave, he told himself and stared to move on. Again the same silence came in, the silence of graveyard, sounds of footsteps of the ghost appeared within him. He could not sing “I will kill you”, his body started trembling, and he looked behind, there was footsteps and someone must be following him. He screamed in fear, holding his navel and fell down. Watched the footsteps and felt threatened. Woke up and ran like a mad man, screaming and shouting. He ran till the end of the road to look back. A woman carrying a child, was walking down the street, “Those may be the footsteps of her”. He convinced himself and went home.
Nov 25, 2010
 It was just a dog!
by: Anonymous

I had just gotten off the bus and was only thankful that I didn’t miss my stop. It was so quiet that the drop of a pin would be heard and on getting off the bus, I had looked to the left and right to be sure as always that I was not being trailed; same as always, coast was clear. I had barely taken 10 steps when I heard quiet footsteps behind me.
I had a riot of thoughts running through my mind but who could this be? How come I didn’t see him before I embarked on the long lonely walk home? Do I call the police? Do I run? Do I shout?
Here I am, my heart racing so much that even the worlds fastest runner would have come second in a race with it but yet, I must not show to this intruder that I’m scared. In an attempt to sense what sort of person he is, I hastened my steps and put my ears to the floor, I could hear the steps of the person increase and then I slowed my pace and realized the obvious intruders pace reduced as well. Boy, am I not in some hot trouble?
I was beginning to get my phone from my bag with utmost caution so as not to arouse the suspicious of the intruder when he raced past me. I heaved heavily and could have needed an oxygen gas to help me breathe when I saw that it was only a dog. Just how could I have allowed myself be fooled by ‘just a dog’?
Nov 22, 2010
 Run
by: Anonymous

The air was frigid against the black, starless night. A thick fog covered the beautiful, slender blond woman as she walked down the deserted city road. Her mind replayed the day's events in her head still not completely oblivious to the cold early morning air. As she thought about what her friend Sandy told her this evening, her face began to grow red hot. Her boyfriend being seen in a local bar kissing another woman. She scoffed. She thought by shaking her head she would be able to shake the visions out of her head but it was of no use. They were implanted there.
There was a sound of a can scraping along the sidewalk. She turned to see where it was coming from. The fog obscured her vision and she couldn't see where it was coming from.
She began to walk a little faster and the evil thoughts she had of killing her boyfriend were now replaced by thoughts of anxiousness. The little voice in her head began to make her even more paranoid. She had thoughts of someone following her. Her heels began to click faster on the sidewalk.
The hairs on the back of her neck began to stand straight up. This had little to do with the freezing air and more to do with what was lurking beyond the fog. She turned her head one last time to see if she saw anything, nothing but the fog closing in around her.
As she turned around, she thought about how stupid she was being. The minute the thought left her mind a shadow jumped down in front of her. She grasped and dropped her purse.
The shadow grabbed her and held her in its arms, as if a woman was cradling her baby. The shadow brought her neck closer to its mouth. The woman in shock let him take control. She couldn't breath, scream or run. She was under this things control. The last thing she remembered was a crunch. 'Is that my neck?' She thought.
The fog rolled over the two and then a couple of minutes later the fog disappeared along with the dark shawdow. All that remained was a woman in the ally laying on the frigid floor bleeding to her death, unable to breath, scream or run.
Nov 21, 2010
 Lesson one
by: Kristina

The air was cool and it started to drizzle. So I wanted to get home before it started to rain harder. The sun was setting just enough to cast shadows on the walk home. My friends told me many times to never walk alone after dark. Being a woman and living in a quiet neighborhood was wise idea. I happened to be running behind today. Then when I was two blocks away from home I heard foot steps. I stopped and looked when so did they. Girl you are just worried for nothing, I said to myself. I begin to walk again think it was my imagination. Then the more a walked the louder they became, I walked faster. It started to rain more and the air become cooler. I felt my pause racing. Then I started seeing more shadows as I looked back. Then I saw one looking at me or coming my way, But I felt like someone was watching me.
Nov 21, 2010
 to rina-g
by: Pamela

I just want to say, I loved loved loved your writing. I too am working on something somewhat of that nature and I study realms and witchcraft. Your story was dead on. I felt it, I saw it, and i couldn't stop reading it. And i didn't want it to stop! Lol. Whatever you do, don't stop writing!
Nov 21, 2010
 Footsteps
by: Tony

Coldness.
A tingeling at my nape as if a small electric current ran down my spine.
Why?
I have no enemies no reason to fear,but is fear not sensless at times? why would someone waulking behind me make me feel this way? How can footsteps be ominous?
Its like that feeling you sometimes get while waulking through a darkened house,like someone or something is at your heels waiting for that peak moment of fear to grab you.Its nothing.Just my imagination.
But still.
Nov 18, 2010
 Walking the Dog(s)
by: Care

I sloshed through the slushy, icy muck beneath my feet. my shoes were soaked, as were the rest of my clothes. It was raining, and I was wet and walking home. I heard the soft click-clack of claws hitting the sidewalk. I turned around to see a large, muscular, brown stray dog. I continued walking home, then the click-clack turned into click-click-clack-clack as if another dog had came. I turned around alarmed, and saw that there were now two identical dogs behind me. I started running. The next time I turned around there were four dogs chasing me, all identical to the first, all growling and barking at me. I started running faster and faster as I approached my house. I turned around the last time before I got safely into my home to see that there were now ten dogs after me. I locked the behind me. Then; BOOM! I was awake, in a cold sweat. I went downstairs to see my two small, non-muscular, and adorable dogs sleepy in their crate; safe and sound.
Nov 14, 2010
 walking down a lonely street
by: rina-g

I'm walking down this quiet street, my mind pouring constantly over the events that lead me to be here at this place in this moment of time on Church Lane. The street is empty of people cars and noise, almost lonely in its contempt for unabliterating life.

I hear slow deliberate steps close behind me. I freeze. Nobody should be here, i planned this so that nobody would be here. My body is quaking with fear, because nobody can get through these enchantments, nobody but me...or somebody as powerful as me...i thought to myself though i tried to hold that particular nougat of thought inside me.

I turn ... Just to check. Nothings there??? My mind and body turn cold with fear, the world around me following suit.

'Who are you?'

I know I didn't imagine it. I know I didn't.

'I SAID WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!'

I hear noise behind me, my body begins to tremble. In my peripheral vision I can see odd little images. a mad contrast to the ordinary little town homes littering the streets.
Nov 13, 2010
 last comment meant for Alicia's story
by: Tim

I liked this. I had a few false starts in that direction, but I couldn't pull it off. Nice job.
Nov 13, 2010
 last comment meant for Alicia's story
by: Tim

I liked this. I had a few false starts in that direction, but I couldn't pull it off. Nice job.
Nov 13, 2010
 I liked this
by: Tim

I liked this. I had a few false starts in that direction, but I couldn't pull it off. Nice job.
Nov 13, 2010
 Footsteps
by: Tim

Never to be late, I rushed to the lonely street where the Marlboro theater had been standing for 80 years. I knew the city had plans to destroy the landmark, so today's meeting was so important.

The theater was hard to miss. Chicago was reclaiming the poorer sections of town for urban development. The Marborro was standing alone. Everything else had been torn down. The city had been finding finding legal ways of displacing the the poor in the name of development. This was that kind of neighborhood.

So there was nothing left around the Marlboro Theater. No more old brick 3 story buildings, like the one I grew up in. My family lived on the 2nd floor. That was our flat. Now there are just empty lots filled with trash, toys, broken record players, bicycle skeletons and other assorted dilapidated chests tubs and household items.

I looked around and didn't see anyone, and peered inside the only small section of the window that wasn't covered with boards or paint. Still no one.

While I was looking I heard a noise. Footsteps from closer, and a rumble. I knew that sound. Cary and Paul they were here, to look over the old theater for renovations. Cary, temporarily in his scooter, and Paul, his companion, walking beside him.

Cary has MS, and he was in a kind of remission. The kind that is just sort of bad all the time. No more ups and downs, at least no more of those horrible downs. Just an overall bad time physically.

As they got closer, I saw something that I hadn't seen since Cary last renovated a theater. It was in his eyes, the fire, the excitement. It was Back in the 90s, Cary renovated and managed the gem of the Chicago Loop, the Chicago Theater. We saw shows like The Technicolor Dreamcoat, and Disney extravaganzas like the opening of the Pocahontas, which featured a live ensemble of costumed Disney characters.

This latest venture, the reopening of the Pickwick Theater in Park Ridge, was the reason for the renewed "fire in Cary's eye. Cary had a plan, he always did, and this plan involved a talent, from Milan. Cary wanted to showcase a tenor. Someone who he felt would fill the space left in the Music world when Luciano Pavarotti died in September of 2007.
Nov 10, 2010
 Footsteps
by: Alicia

Ding! Ding! The slow rhythmic chime of the church bell rang out in the distance as a thick heavy fog rolled in, blotting out the sunlight. Streets normally bustling with city life lay silent and empty, with only the sound of the wind howling and the creaks of doors opening and slamming shut. Where did everyone go? Melanie thought, looking about the deserted town, shivering as she zipped up her jacket. Her shorts and t-shirt barely keeping her warm from the unusually chilly summer wind. Fear crept up Melanie's spine as she realized she was not alone. Another set of footsteps could be heard over her squeaky sneakers on the damp road behind her.
"Whose there?" Melanie called out behind her unaware of who this person is. Maybe he knows what happened here, she told herself trying to ignore the tiny voice inside her head that told her otherwise.
Footsteps quickened as a growl erupted from the stranger and complete terror paralyzed Melanie where she stood, as if roots sprouted from her feet and rooted her to the ground.
Nov 10, 2010
 Footsteps
by: NikkiTC

I quickened my pace as I approached the isolated street. It wouldn't be so bad if there were street lamps, but with the fields running alongside the road the darkness seemed to stretch endlessly. The trees looming like shadows all around me. Ahead I could make out the headlights as the traffic passed by on the main road. Not far to go now and I would be back in the safety of people. All my senses were on red alert so it was no surprise I heard the quiet, almost silent footsteps behind me. My stomach suddenly twisted and I could feel the panic and fear beginning to rise from its depths. Goosebumps stood to attention and a shiver ran down my spine to greet the fear. What to do? The footsteps were getting ever closer and no matter how fast I walked I could not put distance between us. The sound of heavy panting signalled to me that this was not my imagination, there was definitely somebody following me. My head said "Run" but my legs seemed frozen with fear. Suddenly I felt a warm tongue on my hand followed by a soft velvet coat. As I slipped the collar onto my faithful dog I could feel the fear subside as quickly as it had risen. My overactive imagination had caught me out again.
Nov 09, 2010
 Lesson 1
by: Vyleyka

Walking down a lonely street I was wandering wheere I had made the wrong turn. This was definitely not the way to the library! Then I heard the quiet footsteps just beheind me. My pulse quickened and I pressed on while trying to feel with my hand inside the leather jacket for my keys or any sharp object I could use to defend mysef..nothing!
I was sweating now, a cold terror gripped my throat. "turn around" I screamed inside my head but I felt powerless, it was a living nightmare like so many I had been experiencing lately and I could not wake up, Then I felt his shadow darken my path and I screamed!
Nov 07, 2010
 Footsteps Lesson 1 Part 2
by: Speaver

Footsteps Lesson 1 Part 2

Kevin made a big show of zipping up and then continued down the alley, this time keeping to the right side, where the doorways were. Before he got to the next block he saw his opportunity – a doorway a few feet in front of a tall trash bin. As soon as he passed the trash bin he ducked low and made straight for the doorway, pushing his back against the door and blending into the deep protective shadow it offered. He concentrated on breathing through his belly, it was the best way he knew how to focus and maintain control while his body was pumping adrenaline in anticipation of a high risk encounter.

About 20 more seconds, he figured. Twenty more seconds until whoever it was that was tailing him would pass in front of him. He caught himself holding his breath and was just beginning to slowly let it go when he heard someone approaching.. Time stood still as he felt himself become totally present and committed to do whatever he had to do in order to walk away with the tail unable to follow and in time to make the meet.

An automatic pistol, followed by an arm passed by the doorway. Without thinking, he stepped forward and grabbed the pistol and the hand holding it, violently twisting both in a downward and outward motion, forcing the tail down to his knees and off balance, hearing the index finger snap as it was trapped in the trigger guard and had nowhere to go after being so quickly torqued. The tail yelped in pain once and then slid into unconsciousness when the move was followed up with a dropped elbow to his temple.

Kevin dragged the body behind the trash bin, took the automatic, ejected the loaded shell, threw the magazine over a wooden fence and dumped the weapon in the next trash bin.

He looked at his watch, 2 minutes left. One block to go. Looks like I’m going to make it, he decided. That’s when he heard 2 sets of footsteps behind him, and they were moving loudly and quickly.
Nov 07, 2010
 Footsteps Lesson 1 Part 1
by: Speaver

Footsteps Lesson 1 Part 1

Hanging by his fingertips, his body stretched out as far as possible, Kevin let go and fell the remaining 10 feet from the window sill. He hit the soft grass with both feet together and leaned to his left, allowing the side of his body to absorb the impact – and finished the controlled fall with a roll, nice and neat. Not too shabby; I could have easily sprained an ankle - or worse, he thought, as he quickly exited the back yard.

Walking as quickly as he could but not so fast as to bring attention to himself, he made his way down a long dark alley, checking his watch and noting that he had 5 minutes to make the rendezvous. The USB key that he used to lift the incriminating files off of the hooker’s computer was safe in his pants pocket, he had checked several times since his unexpected exit out the window.

He felt exposed even though it was late at night, the alley was only illuminated by streetlights at the corner of each block, and the quarter moon was mostly a ghostly hint of pale white, obscured by the fog rolling in from the nearby shore. The alley did not afford much cover; there was only the odd framed doorway or large trash bin along each block that he could use if the need arose.

The quiet is what set his nerves on high alert. The lack of traffic at the late hour and the blanket-like smothering of sound that came with the fog made him hypersensitive to aural input. Like right now, he was acutely aware of the sound of each breath and the slight scrape that seemed to echo every time his foot hit the asphalt; sand is ever-present in a resort town like this one, so close to the beach.

What was troubling Kevin the most was the very quiet, almost imperceptible sound of footsteps coming from behind him that stopped whenever he slowed his pace. He did not want to be obvious that he suspected someone was following him; to do so might force the tail to take aggressive action like chase him down or try to take him out. He couldn’t afford either possibility at this late stage; he had to make the rendezvous on time and without a tail on his back. Seeing a trash bin coming up he stopped and unzipped his fly as if to urinate. No one would think it odd that someone taking a midnight pee would look to their left and right while doing their business. As had happened each time he slowed down before, the distant footfalls stopped.

But Kevin's ruse worked, on his quick, nonchalant head turn he caught the outline of a shoulder in a doorway about 50 feet behind him. It looked to belong to a man, about 6 feet tall.
Nov 07, 2010
 Footsteps - Lesson 1 Part 1
by: Speaver

Footsteps Lesson 1 Part 1

Hanging by his fingertips, his body stretched out as far as possible, Kevin let go and fell the remaining 10 feet from the window sill. He hit the soft grass with both feet together and leaned to his left, allowing the side of his body to absorb the impact – and finished the controlled fall with a roll, nice and neat. Not too shabby; I could have easily sprained an ankle - or worse, he thought, as he quickly exited the back yard.

Walking as quickly as he could but not so fast as to bring attention to himself, he made his way down a long dark alley, checking his watch and noting that he had 5 minutes to make the rendezvous. The USB key that he used to lift the incriminating files off of the hooker’s computer was safe in his pants pocket, he had checked several times since his unexpected exit out the window.

He felt exposed even though it was late at night, the alley was only illuminated by streetlights at the corner of each block, and the quarter moon was mostly a ghostly hint of pale white, obscured by the fog rolling in from the nearby shore. The alley did not afford much cover; there was only the odd framed doorway or large trash bin along each block that he could use if the need arose.

The quiet is what set his nerves on high alert. The lack of traffic at the late hour and the blanket-like smothering of sound that came with the fog made him hypersensitive to aural input. Like right now, he was acutely aware of the sound of each breath and the slight scrape that seemed to echo every time his foot hit the asphalt; sand is ever-present in a resort town like this one, so close to the beach.

What was troubling Kevin the most was the very quiet, almost imperceptible sound of footsteps coming from behind him that stopped whenever he slowed his pace. He did not want to be obvious that he suspected someone was following him; to do so might force the tail to take aggressive action like chase him down or try to take him out. He couldn’t afford either possibility at this late stage; he had to make the rendezvous on time and without a tail on his back. Seeing a trash bin coming up he stopped and unzipped his fly as if to urinate. No one would think it odd that someone taking a midnight pee would look to their left and right while doing their business. As had happened each time he slowed down before, the distant footfalls stopped.

But Kevin's ruse worked, on his quick, nonchalant head turn he caught the outline of a shoulder in a doorway about 50 feet behind him. It looked to belong to a man, about 6 feet tall.

Nov 07, 2010
 footsteps
by: karin

Taking the shortcut from the station to the pub seemed like a good idea at the time, shortening the lateness to my own birthday party by a whole 4 minutes. I had dressed up in a tight black skirt and high heels to impress Matthew, who promised to be there.
I had looked forward to my party, but the steps behind me are starting to worry me. They sound determined, not like a child's or an old person's. My heart is racing. My eyes are evaluating the entry doors of the apartment blocks to my right: only a few of the window are lit high up. Surely the entry doors are all locked at this time.
My heartbeat fills my head, preventing any coherent thought from forming. Damn, these shoes are torture. I mentally scan the contents of my bag; shame about the 100 quid, bother about the credit cards, the driver's license. What if I screamed? It's not likely someone would abandon the TV and come to my rescue.
Quick, any words of wisdom? "I have not given you a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and a clear mind" I take a deep breath and slow my step, pretending to search for an item in my bag while taking out my wallet and stuffing it into my bosom. The steps behind me are not slowing but steadily closing the gap between us.
Then they arrive beside me, and a female voice wishes me a good evening. My reply comes out shaky; as shaky as my knees, leaving me feeling silly as I steady myself against a door jamb and watch the figure disappear into the direction of the pub.
Nov 04, 2010
 Sheepish
by: Claire

I have just moved to this little town, away from the craziness of the city, and away from Ted. Hopefully, I can recuperate here, get my ebusiness going, start over. The only problem with this place is that it’s not set up for walking. All the stores are at one end, and it’s really far to walk. In the city, I walked everywhere, and took a bus or even a taxi when needed. No buses or taxis in this hick town, and the stores are all out on the highway.

Well, I’m going to give it a go. Good shoes, a bag for the few things I need, and off I go. I’m just a half block or so along the street, first thing I notice is, no cars. No people. I feel just a bit nervous. What if I stumbled, sprained my ankle? Where are all the people? The landlord said most folks commute to the city, but this is weird. I just finish thinking all this, and I start to hear something behind me, and realize it’s footsteps, slow but steady. I pick up my pace, doing a speedy scan – could there be one house even, that has someone home? Would anyone hear if I screamed? My heart is thumping and every nerve is on full alert. The footsteps are fading a bit as I walk faster, still trying to appear unconcerned, trying to remember what they taught in self defence class. Cross the street. See if they cross too. I practically run across the street, turning for a momentary glance as I reach the sidewalk.

An old woman. Struggling to carry two heavy bags.

Sheepishly I recross the street and offer help. Now she’s the one who’s suspicious. “You’re not from around here.” It’s a statement. She rests her bags on the sidewalk as I tell my story, the summary. She lets me carry her bags – but not her purse – and informs me that the general store is struggling, but is still open, just a couple of blocks away. When I point out my house, she says “Oh, I could tell you stories about those folks.” I carry her bags in, and stay for tea and stories.
Nov 04, 2010
 In a Lonely Place
by: Louis

Joe McBride pulled his jacket collar tight around his neck and bent forward against the chill of the cold wind which attacked him from behind and stiffened his spine. It was a long walk to his car, and his left shoulder had started to ache from the bulkiness of the pistol he carried in his shoulder holster.
At 43 years old, Joe was the best in the business, with nerves of steel and the lightning fast reflexes of a rattlesnake. He had enjoyed the little get together at Monica’s apartment, but now he wanted to go home and get some rest and take care of business in the morning.

He paused a moment to glance at his Rolex wristwatch. The moonlight was especially bright. In the distance now, he could hear a twig snap. Was it the sound of footsteps or was it his imagination?

He smiled to himself as he thought all about the times when he had walked through so many places all alone with no one for miles around. He almost had to laugh when he thought about the last time he walked through a park and two guys tried to jump him. They stopped him, just as he was about to walk under a foot bridge. The one, the taller of the two had brandished a knife.
“You’re money or your life.”
His accomplice just stood there all tattooed and nose ringed and laughed.
“We’ve got you now sucker.”

Joe smiled to himself when he remembered how quickly his reflexes took over and the Glock 9 mm with the snub nose barrel leapt out of the shoulder holster. The silenced pistol snapped twice, “thwack, thwack” and the two hoodlums crumpled to the ground, like two broken rag dolls.
“What the………….?” Was all one of the two hoodlums muttered as he saw the blood and a small bullet hole right above his friend’s forehead.

Now, he glanced over his shoulder at the figure. It was a man. He wore no coat, no hat, no gloves. Just a tall, man walking a few steps behind him.

Instinctively he brought his right hand across his chest.

The steps grew closer and closer. Joe glanced around.

Suddenly the footsteps stopped.

Joe stopped and turned to face his attacker. The footstep drew closer and closer.


Joe reached for the Glock, and pulled it out with one smooth motion and cocked the hammer back. In the darkness, the man did not see his weapon.

“Hey mister, you dropped this,” he said handing him his solid gold lighter.
It was the doorman from her apartment building.

“You scared me half to death,” Joe said. Quickly, he holstered his weapon. Then reached out and quickly took the lighter.

“Thanks.”
Nov 04, 2010
 Lesson 1
by: Louis

Joe McBride pulled his jacket collar tight around his neck and bent forward against the chill of the cold wind which attacked him from behind and stiffened his spine. It was a long walk to his car, and his left shoulder had started to ache from the bulkiness of the pistol he carried in his shoulder holster.
At 43 years old, Joe was the best in the business, with nerves of steel and the lightning fast reflexes of a rattlesnake. He had enjoyed the little get together at Monica’s apartment, but now he wanted to go home and get some rest and take care of business in the morning.

He paused a moment to glance at his Rolex wristwatch. The moonlight was especially bright. In the distance now, he could hear a twig snap. Was it the sound of footsteps or was it his imagination?

He smiled to himself as he thought all about the times when he had walked through so many places all alone with no one for miles around. He almost had to laugh when he thought about the last time he walked through a park and two guys tried to jump him. They stopped him, just as he was about to walk under a foot bridge. The one, the taller of the two had brandished a knife.
“You’re money or your life.”
His accomplice just stood there all tattooed and nose ringed and laughed.
“We’ve got you now sucker.”

Joe smiled to himself when he remembered how quickly his reflexes took over and the Glock 9 mm with the snub nose barrel leapt out of the shoulder holster. The silenced pistol snapped twice, “thwack, thwack” and the two hoodlums crumpled to the ground, like two broken rag dolls.
“What the………….?” Was all one of the two hoodlums muttered as he saw the blood and a small bullet hole right above his friend’s forehead.

Now, he glanced over his shoulder at the figure. It was a young man. He wore no coat, no hat, no gloves. Just a young man walking a few steps behind him.

Instinctively he brought his right hand across his chest.

The steps grew closer and closer. Joe glanced around.

Suddenly the footsteps stopped.

Joe stopped and turned to face his attacker. The footstep drew closer and closer.


Joe reached for the Glock, and pulled it out with one smooth motion and cocked the hammer back. In the darkness, the young man did not see his weapon.

“Hey mister, you dropped this,” he said handing him his solid gold lighter.
It was the doorman from her apartment building.

“You scared me half to death,” Joe said. Quickly, he holstered his weapon. Then reached out and quickly took the lighter.

“Thanks.”
Nov 01, 2010
 First Kiss - Fiction Lesson 1
by: PF Palm

I changed the last line to give the ending more punch. Then I gave it to my personal review (aka husband) to read. When he laughed, I submitted it to a magazine. Nothing ventured, nothing learned.
Oct 31, 2010
 First Kiss - Fiction Lesson 1
by: PF Palm

Here's what I wrote for the lesson one exercise about a girl's first kiss. I hope it isn't offensive.

First Kiss

By

PF Palm

She lay naked on the bare mattress, breathing in the smell of warm spices, and watching the play of shadows on the ceiling above her head. A shadow falls across her face, and she hears a deep voice say, “Hey there Baby, are you ready?” She feels stroking on the inside of her legs. It feels good. He bends over her, his face coming closer and closer until his lips are on her cheek, her eyelids, her entire face. He lifts her legs and she feels something warm enveloping her. She laughs. It was Baby's first kiss and Daddy’s first diapering ritual.

Oct 26, 2010
 Sharing writing for Lesson 1
by: Nupur Maskara

I was walking down a lonely street, when I noticed quiet footsteps behind me. I lowered my head and started walking faster. My breath quickened.
Almost unbidden, a headline in today’s paper flashed in my mind. “Girl murdered while walking down Kalia Lane.” I strained my ears to know whether the person behind me had also stepped up his pace. I had turned to see if I could catch a glimpse of him, but the lane was badly lit.
I could hear him wheezing though. Good, I thought. Better safe than sorry. I broke into a run. Panting, I reached home.
My family stared at me as they opened the door in response to my urgent knocks. “Man…chasing…me…”I managed to say, between breaths. My father craned his neck to look past me. “But that’s only Raja.”
“Who is?” I turned to look at the man I could now see in our porch light. Bearded, stooping, with glassy eyes…wait. I knew what those glassy eyes meant. “Yes dear, he’s blind,” said my father gently. “He lives behind our house. He wasn’t here the last time you visited.”
Oct 26, 2010
 After reading some of the writings
by: wendy

How long have people been writing for? What I have read on this forum is really good! Lesson 1 was the first time I have written since being at school, a long time ago, and I found it harder than I thought it would be. Hopefully I will improve thanks to this course. xx
Oct 26, 2010
 Early Start
by: Chrisanth

After taking the car into the garage early for it's service, I have a mile to walk home. There is no one about. The houses are secured and their owners at work or asleep after the night shift. It is like a ghost town. A dog suddenly barks at me from behind a gate and then a cat runs past and crosses to a piece of wasteland. I admire the rosey glow of the autumnal cherry trees, and the gold and cinnamon sycamore leaves on the tidy lawns, as the sun heaves itself up over the rooves of the houses, before I get lost in thought.
My footsteps start to echo and I listen as the pace of the echo changes, speeds up, seperates into a hurried pattern closing up behind me. I turn round and see an old woman. She looks serious - determined - and looks away from me. As she passes she curtly greets me and then I see the man who is pursuing her. He is waving his arms and there is something awkward about the way he is walking as if he isn't used to rushing and his legs wont obey him.
I wait till he catches up with me. He is overwraught. He says, "Why didn't you put your arms around her and hold her for me - she's running away." It was his mother.
Oct 26, 2010
 OO this was harder than I thought it would be!!
by: Wendy

Writing assignment 1. A walk. By Wendy

Walking down the street, the cold air biting my face, my hat pulled on tight, coat wrapped round my cold torso and special woven gloves hidden in my coat pockets arms tight into my sides, my footsteps loud in the silent street.

The moon large and round, slightly hidden by fluffy clouds eerily drifting across it’s perfect form. Street lights flicker on as the darkness sets in on this lonely street, cars parked either side. House lights fall onto the gardens, casting dancing shadows as I walk past.

In my own world, I become aware of the sound of gentle footsteps behind me. My heart starts to beat faster in my chest. Walking slightly quicker, I realise the stranger’s footsteps speed up too. I try to look round to glimpse a look at the nearing stranger, but can’t. Fear sets in. What if they are chasing me? What if they kill me? An inner argument ensues… if they were after me, they would just run and catch me.

At the end of the road stood a large expanse of grass, bushes and a children’s park. I couldn’t reach this point with this stranger behind me. I needed to do something, and fast. Slightly ahead a youth ran from out of nowhere and shot up the steps to a door, opened it and went inside. I could hear shouts and conversations from where I was.

My heart pounding in my throat, fear gripping me like a tight pair of trousers, I decided to follow this youth up the steps and just knock on this random person’s door. I could explain, I’m sure they would understand.

As I approached the steps, the disturbing footsteps close behind me, I darted up them, almost running. I pounded on the door and surprisingly the door opened very quickly, shedding streams of golden light onto the steps. A young woman stood in the doorway, dressed ready to go out. ‘I thought you’d never get here’. She stated smiling. Confused I turned slightly to see a smart young man, smartly dressed and grinning back. ‘More guests?’ he enquired joining her in the doorway.
Oct 20, 2010
 Lesson 1
by: Anonymous

The air smells of fog and salt water from the bay. The cobblestone street is deserted. The moisture in the air clings to every surface, the stone walls of the tall buildings on either side of the street, the sidewalks, and her curled hair. She hears mumbled sounds of voices as she passes taverns and restaurants, seeing flickering light dance through the thick glass of windows. Street lamps spread far apart offer some more light, but mostly it is dark. She hears the sound of a bike coming up the road behind her, passing her, the driver dings the childlike bell. And in whispers she is alone again, the folds of her dress swooshing against her legs while her heels tap smartly on the stone sidewalk. She hears quick footsteps coming up behind her. Her heart skips and pulses more quickly as her feet take her more swiftly down the road. A hand touches her on her shoulder. She gasps, stops, and looks behind her.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to scare you, but you dropped this,” It was a tall man wearing a dark suit and a high hat. The top of his hat towered over her small frame as she clutched her throat with a gloved hand.

In his leather gloved hand, he held out her silver bracelet.

She sighed audibly and took it from him. “Thank you so much.”

“Can I trouble you for the time?” He nodded.

She glanced at her watch and answered. “It’s nearly 9pm.”

“Thank you,” He tipped his hat and continued down the sidewalk.

She struggled to calm her racing heart as her hands shook to clasp the bracelet back around her wrist before continuing in the direction she was headed.
Oct 18, 2010
 Is that Someone
by: Anne

The sky had taken on an angry hue, the wind had become more pronounced and sent my skirt twisting and snaking around my knees. I wished I had asked for directions before I had left the interview this afternoon. But thinking I had watched my turns and streets, I had felt fully capable of finding my way back to the bus station. No matter which way I turned I seemed unable to get to the main area of town. It was as though the streets themselves were twisting and rearranging to keep me from finding my way. A short while ago I had caught the sound of a stealthy step behind me. I was listening to the sound it made, not a tapping like heels, but a scuffling, sliding step. I dared not look behind me, my imagination was running over time as it was, and I had conjured up all sorts of scenarios that would have me dead or maimed at any time. I could feel the cold, hard circle of a gun press against my spine and a voice telling me to do exactly as they said. Yet, it was probably just someone headed home after work, nothing to worry about. So why did I have the feeling that something was just beyond my vision, something that was waiting for me to turn around and see it. To wind itself around me purring and murmuring while it devoured me. Why was there no one else on the streets, the area was all residential, where was everyone, why was I the only person walking on these streets? I quickened my pace and determinedly kept my eyes on the distance. Did the footsteps behind me increase their speed? I thought not, I thought maybe they had turned into another street and breathed a sigh of relief. I could look now, see that there was no one behind me, just an ordinary street with the occasional paper blowing across the road causing that scuffle and slippery sound behind me.
Oct 17, 2010
 A new path
by: Joyce

I could feel the scorching rays of the sun gently burning my skin…it was a little after 2 P.M. and I was on my way to work. The street was narrow and deserted, and the smell of spoiled food and other waste hit my nostrils from the garbage can that was overturned in the corner. Panic suddenly seized my heart as I hear quiet footsteps behind me. I tried to get an image of the individual through my periphery, as I could feel that whoever it was picked up his pace and was gaining on me. I walked a little bit faster.
Oct 16, 2010
 Lonely Street
by: Carol

I stepped off the bus onto the cold, dark street. Pulling my coat collar up around my ears, I started the five minute journey home. I had walked this way many times.
I rounded the bend on the last leg of mt journey, passing the houses which were all in darkness. (they would be at half past eleven at night) The street was deserted. My breath was coming out as short puffs of steam in front of me. I couldn't wait to get home, in the warm at last.
I reached the deserted old school, about halfway, when I heard some light footsteps behind me. Dare I look back? My heart beat faster and I quickened my step. Not much further, I thought. Please let me get to the corner of my street.
The footsteps seemed to be getting closer. Who or what was following me? Dare I look?
I stole a quick glance behind me, but saw nothing. Nothing, but the footsteps continued. My blood started rushing in my ears and I was in a state of near panic. Again I looked behind, this time taking a longer look. Still nothing. My mind started to whirl and I quickened my step even more. Fifty yards more and I will be at the corner of my street, I thought. If only I could make it. Was my mind playing tricks on me? there had to be something making the noise.
I noticed one house on the end of the block that still had a light on. If I could reach there, I could alert someone if I needed to.
All of a sudden, there was a tap on my shoulder. I froze, very nearly wetting myself.
'Hi' said a familiar voice 'I've followed you all the way from the bus stop. why did you walk so fast?'
The feeling of relief that washed over me as I realised it was my husband. He had come to meet me at the bus stop, but unfortunately had missed me. I don't know how - I've never been so frightened in all my life.
Oct 12, 2010
 MIND RACE
by: DREAMSEARCHER

Once again I sit up on the edge of the bed, exhausted, but unable to rest. The thoughts and images that are not my own beat and hammer at my head, giving me no peace. Finally I stand and wander through the silence of the old house. The only sound comes from the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway. My mind racing, I walk to the window and stare out at the darkness. There is no moon tonight, but I know what I will have to do to rest. I will have to go out there, out into that darkness.

Finally giving in I return to my bedroom and dress. I grab the house keys on the way out the door. It is no longer safe to leave your home unlocked these days. I walk down the sidewalk to the little lane that runs in front of the house and just begin to walk, no destination in mind, my thoughts scurrying.

I walk for some time, deep in thought...and then I hear it...the sound of footsteps behind me. I walk just the tiniest bit faster, my heartbeat beginning to accelerate. Oh no, please, not again, I think to myself. Please not again. I try to will the footsteps away as my increased heartbeat begins to bring on the change.

For so long I have fought it, fought this fate. But it has me in its grip now. I feel my bones begin to shift as I try harder and harder not to hear those footsteps behind me. Whoever is stalking me does not know the danger. I want to turn and scream for them to run, to escape while they can.

But I am no longer capable of speech as the change takes me in its grip. I fall against a tree as the pain wracks my body...as my hands become claws...and the fangs come in in fits and bursts...and then it is too late.

The one who would have sought to make me a victim, in the end, become just that as I leap with gaping mouth straight at them. I feel the blood rush over my tongue, feel as the warmth of life fades from the body. I drop the body and fall upon it...........

feasting.

Only once the hunger is sated do I return to myself. Only then do I retrace the steps that led me to this place. Only then do I return home, weary unto death...and covered in the blood of the one who had started out as hunter........

and ended as prey.

Finally I sleep, at peace once more..........

Until the next time.
Oct 12, 2010
 Nick Murdock Private Eye
by: Anonymous

(6)

The sounds of traffic car horns beeping breaks squalling , the smell of car exhaust, with his blood shot eyes at the office, on the door his blurry vision, he was reading Nick Murdock Private eye, laughing to himself as he thought yah, blood shot eye’s.

With the courts just a few blocks down the street you would think a flashing neon sign in the window of the office would be enough to bring in the clients, oh yah they came in alright asking to use the toilets on their way to their high priced attorneys.


(7)
Thelma remembered when she first met Nick, she was at the Bar a girls night out with the rest of the Brooklyn Bombshells her old Roller Derby team mates. Nick used to go there to watch the Roller Derby to see Thelma, who would show up after the competition.


Thelma sitting at her desk with the stack of un-paid bills.

Anywhere Nick went Thelma would have to drive him, or he was on foot or taking the subways. He could never save enough money to make the down payment and payments on time for a car, he barely made enough to pay the office rent.

(8)
Thelma warned him, “Nick screwdrivers and pretzel's is not a meal. It will kill you one of these days”. Thelma made him homemade chicken soup .

(9)

He would sit at his desk for hours with that stupid smirk on his face, He knew she was right, but he didn’t give a rat’s ass.
Oct 12, 2010
 SCARED TO DEATH
by: MARGARET

SCARED TO DEATH

MARGARET

It’s a sharp , frosty night the air is clear all is still .Fallen leaves are piled high beside the
curbs and hedges
I seem to be the only person still awake and making my way home its so very late
I am aware of my shoes click clacking on the pavement
Then I hear another sound behind shuffling yet steady I stop straining to hear the sound stops. I child my self for being foolish and continue on my way
The shuffling starts once more I stop and look behind was the a shadow slipping back into the shadows but the sound has ceased once more
I feel panic rising and hurry on the sound quickens I begin to run
Still I am being followed my legs are stuck in one speed try as I may I cannot go any faster
I stumble on the hard pavement In terror I look behind convinced I am going to be attacked then I notice caught in the heal of my shoe a long piece of weed strung behind mingled in its length fallen leaves
This was my attacker
Oct 11, 2010
 Moonlit reunion
by: Kony

My sneakers squish softly, rhythmically; my thin cotton pajama pants swish in syncopated counterpoint, a porous shield against the frigid wind. I pull the hood of my sweatshirt over my head, but the night air won't be deterred: it penetrates the hood and spills in along the sides and caresses my temples and ears.

Fallen leaves scoot across my path as if possessed; some fall into gutters and dance along curbs around tires of parked cars. Herds of them slide across the road in a wind-driven stampede.

The sky is a Magritte canvas tonight - star-studded, richly hued, oddly luminous. A bulbous moon glows overhead.

Amidst the papery scritch-scratch of sliding leaves, the rhythmic squishing of another's sneakers reaches my ears, punctuated by a cottony swishing that echoes my own. The squish of my own sneakers, the swish of my own pants, slows and slows and halts.

I stand at the corner, facing a cafe whose facade consists of dark windows, not a soul to be seen within - lights unlit, counters unmanned, chairs un-sat in coffee cups unfilled. My reflection stares back from the moonlit facade, a small hooded figure, hands in pockets, wisps of uncombed hair fringing my face and waving in the wind.

Reflected in the facade is smaller figure toddling along trippingly, approaching me from behind, unhooded and unjacketed, not so much with purpose as with motivated curiosity. The figure reaches my corner. I turn to face it. I bend at the knees and wrap my arms around the shivering torso of my baby brother.
Oct 11, 2010
 Pathways (Lesson 1 Response)
by: Lindsay

Numb with both fright and victory, she proceeded into the opulent suburban dawn away from all that she had known. Frost clung to manicured lawns, and the sun was just beginning its pale winter reign. Her footsteps carried her farther and farther still. She spared to backward glance to her former home. Former, she thought with dignified chagrin. It was the first time she’d acknowledged the life she'd cultivated as a part of her past.
It could have been the fog that blurred her vision, or the purifying tears, but there was no alternate explanation for the inevitable sound of nearing footsteps. She knew he would follow her. His pursuit touched her in a profound way, and lent a certain peace to the past night’s proceedings. Her steps hastened but his closed the gap.
Their eyes met as their footsteps did. One glance conveyed mutual gratitude for a portion of life shared together, devastation at the numbing apathy that now pervaded their days, sadness that separation was the best thing, and relief to finally have the decision made.
One final nod, and the moment was over. She proceeded onward to the beat of his receding steps.
Oct 10, 2010
 My Story
by: Owen Foreman

I walked down the barren sidewalk, my torn graduation ground beating at the back of my legs, I glanced back, my heart racing, were those footsteps? I quickened my pace and listened. Yes they were, those were definitely footsteps. I took off in a run, approaching the soft glow of the streetlights and the end of the road, but I never got there, I tripped and sprawled forward, almost immediately I felt myself being enveloped, it wrapped me up and I felt small stings start all over my boy, then I saw the three long claws. They were ploughing forward and then they raked across my face, I felt the warm blood spill all over my cheeks and the salty, crimson smell of my blood filled my nostrils, I yelped and kicked forward, I heard a howl and I let go of me, I took off again and ducked into an alley, I pulled the small pocket knife out of my pocket and flipped it open, the creature came around the corner and I rushed towards it I stabbed into it and I saw the greenish blood coat the ground in a matter of second, I pulled it back and thrust it forward again, I watched the thing curl to the ground and die, I fell backwards breathing hard and I burst into quiet tears.
Oct 08, 2010
 First Sight Part II
by: Tonya

Do I turn around, acknowledge him, or keep walking? I decided to turn. Slowly, slowly, I turned. And saw him for the first time. The voice in my head. He was beautiful. I knew he would be, since his voice was beautiful, resonant, erotic. He had long, flowing, wavy black hair down past his shoulders to his mid back. His eyes were beautiful. Bedroom eyes. The color of deep, dark sapphires, sparkling in the night, surrounded by thick, lush, long black lashes. His lips I noticed next. Pillow lips, kissable lips. His shoulders were broad and I could tell he was muscled. He stood there and watched me take him in.

Then the corners of those beautiful lips of his turned up into a slow, sexy smile. And I saw a glimmer of…fangs? Oh shit, the voice in my head is a vamp?

“Hello Maya,” he said in that deep, beautiful voice of his. “I see you made it out of there alive.”

My God, just his voice makes me shiver. I couldn’t run. Hell, I couldn’t even move. I couldn’t do anything but stare. Finally, my brain and body started working in tandem again. “Who are you?”

“You already know who I am.”

“I’m pretty sure I don’t. I know I’d remember you. Why did you help me get out of that hellhole?”
“Because you have something that I want and that you need.”

“And what is that?”

He just smiled again, then in an instant he was gone. The voice in my head vanished into thin air. But then I heard him, that erotic voice of his, whispering, “you.”
Oct 08, 2010
 First Sight Part I
by: Tonya

It was quiet and cold, but not too cold. Cold enough that I could see my breath. The darkness though…the darkness seemed to seep into my soul more than the cold. There was a bit of a fog too, it swirled around me. It was late, midnight maybe? Damn, I forgot my watch again. I shivered in my lightweight jacket. October in Portland at midnight is chilly, I thought. I was walking down the cobblestone street towards the town square. Very quaint, actually. Walking with my head down in my own little world, my shoes scuffing on the bricks, I noticed how they were laid to make a perfect road. I was alone. No one else was out tonight. Of course, I thought wryly, here I am, late at night, walking by myself all alone, it’s cold and foggy…where’s the boogeyman?

I looked up and saw the stores, all squished together to fit like puzzle pieces. The town square was just up ahead. In the center of the square was a fountain and one brightly lit lamp post, the fog turning the light into a haze. I couldn’t really see what the fountain was. I was too far away. As I got closer, I noticed that the fountain was a beautiful woman, dressed in an empire waist goddess-type dress. Her arms were lifted to the sky with her hands clasped together, her face turned upwards, her long wavy hair flowing down past her waist. She seemed to be dancing, stuck forever in a pose. It was awe-inspiring to think that someone had actually chiseled her, born from imagination. She looked as if she were real but now one of Medusa’s maidens.

Suddenly I felt a prickling on my skin and the hair on my arms lifted. My breath caught and my steps faltered. I wasn’t alone anymore, I knew it. I felt a chill go through my body. I took a step and heard a light step behind me. I instantly knew who this was, sensed who this was, even though I had never seen him before. I had heard him in my thoughts for months. Somehow, I knew it was him. How I knew, I wasn’t sure.
Oct 07, 2010
 3am in the moonlight
by: Lauren

It’s 3am and I am walking along a street of abandoned houses on the way to my destination. There is just enough moonlight to see some details, but no streetlights. The first lot I pass is surrounded by thick, 7 foot high hedgerows, bristly and old, with dense greenery. A walkway in between them leads up to an abandoned farm style 2 story dingy white house with four front windows, a weathered door and a wrap around porch. The door is hanging askew. I pass quickly. The next lot I pass is vacant, except for a concrete base where a house had been, and a few steel tabs sticking up from it. There isn’t even grass, just dirt and the reflection of some pieces of broken glass, and some cigarette butts. When I pass the third lot, there’s another abandoned house. The same style but no wrap around porch. High pointed roof, shaped like an upside down V, windows on each of two stories, no shutters, four pane glass, some broken, a solid wooden door, closed. The grass on this lot hasn’t been mowed in eons, it’s 3 feet tall and full of weeds. It’s while I’m passing the 3rd lot that I hear the footsteps.
Oct 07, 2010
 Transitioner
by: Morgan

It’s not a busy street at the peak of rush hour, if the amount of traffic we get in this town even qualifies us to have a “rush hour”, but tonight it was unusually quiet. There was an eerie silence that thickened the air and made breathing something to be desired. Turning off on to the lonely, narrow little side street that was my only escape route home, an autumn breeze swept up behind me rustling the fallen leaves at my feet and chilling me with an other-worldly feel that made my skin crawl. Walking quickly, I stayed in the shadows alongside the bricks that housed some of the local boutiques, cafés, markets, banks, other random stores, and several three-four stories buildings full of apartments. It wasn’t even dark, and yet there didn’t seem to be anyone else out on the street. Where is everyone? My palms were starting to tingle and sweat. The little hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Suddenly, feeling too exposed and something very wrong, I searched for somewhere to hide. I need to get off this road! This road lined shoulder to shoulder with varying old brick buildings and nowhere to hide. Trapped. If only, I could get back to the house; I’m safe there. Although, I thought I was safe here too. Very faint, in the distance behind me, I hear a noise. Footsteps. My hearing is good, it always has been. In fact, it’s better than most. Finally, people. I must be over-reacting, except for the knot in my stomach and the strange uneasiness deep within me that won’t let my body relax. More footsteps. Getting closer but not picking up speed. More than one set of footsteps, several actually and all together in unison, like a military cadence. My body frozen with fear and my heart racing so strong it carries the panic throughout my veins with an over-riding urge and NEED to run, to hide. They found me. Gasping for breath, I ran and turned straight into the brick wall, then disappeared.
Oct 05, 2010
 Think I posted it in the wrong spot sorry?
by: Anonymous

This is a snipped of a project I've been working on.
by: Joseph F.Mazzaferro

Tell me what you think?

Titled; Genie in a bottle, Nick Murdock Private Eye

Written by Joseph F. Mazzaferro.

__________________________________________________


It’s hard to walk in a straight line after indulging in Vodka and Orange juice all night long. His mind was in a fog.

Nick’s head felled like a drum, someone kept banging on.
A bit tipsy he'd be. Screwdrivers have been the key to his weight control puking his brains out on a regular basis. Then there was Nick’s friend Harry the horse, Harry was Nicks bookie who he would bet on the pony’s with.

Nick sitting at the bar, the music on the jute box played sweet Adeline or was it that other lyrics it kept repeating over and over again “I don’t want to work just want is to bang on the drums all day”, as the booze kept coming. By the time Nick was wasted and started to get nasty the bartender Joe gave Thelma a call to pick him-up before he busted up the place again. Nick spent more time on the ground at the bar then in his office. Joe asked Thelma why she puts up with him?
A spark would appear in her eyes, he needed her, Nick needed a crutch and Thelma was it.

Nick first met Thelma, he saw her for the very first time she was a vision, a thing of beauty in a warped way, her nose busted, cheekbone swollen with teeth missing. This is what she got for taking up the female version of ice hockey, Roller Derby. The first night Nick and Thelma got together it was dynamite, they consumed enough booze to kill an elephant.

The next morning they woke up sharing a bed and a massive hang-over, wishing they were dead. Thelma gave up drinking.

So Nick started drinking enough for the both of them. Thelma got tired of feeling crappy all the time. Thelma’s father died of psoriasis of the liver.

Every time she saw Nick she would see her father in him. She would try to change him, Nick hated that Thelma worked at trying to change him. “Why do people try to fix what’s not broken?” He wondered? He thought to himself, even my secretary Thelma will be forced to given up on me kicking the juicing habit.

She would stop by the bar to pick him up. Force feeding him several cups of black coffee to sober him up.
Oct 04, 2010
 must be a full moon!!
by: melissa

The alley was dark except for the dim light glowing from a nearby lamppost it was raining heavily making the cobblestone pavement slippery in the high heels shed unwisely slipped on.There was a heavier sound of footsteps on the cobbles,was it the echo from her shoes?no!it wasn't in time with her step,there was someone behind!she turned suddenly heart racing her wet raven hair hitting her cheek,but she couldn't see anyone just the shadows and now she'd stopped the other set of footsteps had stopped too.She took a deep breath there was definately somebody there she could feel it,as fast as she could she took off running,rounding the corner on to a street of small business' 'unfortunately for me'she thought'not one is open,typical,wheres an all night cafe when you need one!' She ran to the other side of the street and ducked down the side of a beauty salon pinning herself flat against the wall,panting she looked around the corner there was no one coming.Releasing a sigh of relief she wondered was she just being paranoid after all she'd been through lately?no,with her heightened senses she heard a rustle nearby and could smell a hint of a very familiar scent,"oh god no!"left her lips on a quick breath as whipped her head round a hand shot out and slapped down hard over her mouth,looking down at that hand she gulped she knew who it belonged to the thought of him bringing small trembles and shivers through her body,she followed the arm upto the shoulder his face still in shadows but the eyes shone brightly piercing her with its unnatural yellow gaze that belonged to the man she loved ,the man she was running away from and now he'd caught her.She should have known she couldn't run for long he was the same as her after all,and after what she'd done to him he'd obviously come looking for revenge,as he leaned forward his chiselled features came out of the shadows his blond hair slightly ruffled and damp "hello selene you didn't think i'd let you go that easily did you?"he spat he removed his hand from her mouth and held her upper arm in a firm tight grasp,"come on selene time to go home,i've had enough of games"he ground out between clenched teeth his jaw twitching with tension "now finally you'll go through with the ceremony and we'll be proper mates whether you like it or not!" As she walked along with him practically dragging her she realised he was trying to rein in his temper and it wouldn't be wise to try anything,'it's over' she thought numbly 'i can't escape him he'll always find me and now i've made things worse by running away he's going to make my life hard just to avenge the slight i gave him in front of everyone,he'll have to, to save face after all nobody goes against Luka ,Alpha male of the lycan pack,what have i done!' the end.
Oct 04, 2010
 on Crystal @ Lesson 1
by: OMacD

Hello Crystal.

An atmospheric tale with just the right amount of chilling detail gradually revealed. Who is the handsome stranger? Victim? Perpetrator? What happend next? Would love to read.

Thanks again.
Best
O
Oct 04, 2010
 on Lesson 1 by Phoenix
by: OMacD

Hello Phoenix.

I find the internal monlogue an upbeat read.
Good pacing, atmosphere, and setting. The character is well portrayed and familiar and the ending - exciting and unexpected.
Thank you.
Best O
Oct 04, 2010
 on story by Anonymous @ Lesson 1
by: OMacD

Hello Anonymous.

A few words to say how much I enjoy your character 'the bag lady'. She is painted so vividly and her interaction with the narrator helps reveal the plot beautifully. I found it quite an emotional read.
Thanks again.
Best O
Oct 03, 2010
 Orange-Grove Lane
by: Phoenix

I have to admit that this is not the nicest day to be walking to work. The clouds are black, and hang heavy in the sky. When it is this dark in the evening the streetlights are on, but this morning they were turned off hours ago because the city has them on a timer. I would normally drive, but my car is out of action for at least another week. That's what my mechanic says anyway.
Oh, well. I might as well make the most of the exercise. I know I should work out more often, but by the time I get home, cook dinner, take care of the housework and get the kids to bed, I am too exhausted to do anything except shower and hit the pillow myself. One day...
I'm running late this morning, so I'll go down Orange-Grove Lane instead of walking all the way to James St. The Lane will save me about 5 minutes, so if I keep a good pace, I should make it to work with a couple minutes to spare. Enough time to grab a coffee I hope, because I didn't get to have one this morning.
I don't normally walk down this lane. It is dark even on the sunniest day and today I almost need a torch to see where I am going. It's too late to turn back now.
Shit! What's that? My heart starts racing. My blood is thumping in my ears. There are quiet footsteps behind me. I speed up. They do too. I bring my handbag in front of me and grab the handles in preparation to turn and swing at my attacker. I hope the book I have in there is heavy enough to knock them out. I can't breathe. Should I run instead? Yes, yes! Run!
It seems like minutes before my legs receive the instructions from my brain to run. I take off as fast as I can. Squeezing my eyes shut, I run blindly towards the end of the Lane. I swear, I am never going to walk this way again.
The footsteps behind me also break into a run. I start to sweat from fear and panic. Then I hear a voice yell, "Mum! Wait!"
I spin around in one fluid movement. My daughter is sprinting towards me looking as terrified as I feel. She stops beside me, struggles to catch her breath, and says, "You forgot your lunch!"
Oct 02, 2010
 "I'm Lost" - lesson 1
by: Crystal

“Now I’m lost” I thought looking up and down the street. It all looks the same – street lamps all in a row, cookie cutter homes. Even with the feeling of being lost, the neighborhood brought a sense of peace and calmness. It appears as though it’s a friendly neighborhood where neighbors would know and spend time together. Some people have children; that’s obvious from the toys on the front lawn and strollers on the porch. The odd house has smoke rising from the chimney, and the faint smell of fire lingers in the air. The stars are brighter here, not a cloud in the sky. Deciding to go left or right I want to find someone, anyone who can give me directions, but there’s no one around. “Where am I?” An eerie feeling falls, it’s quite, too quiet. “Hello? Well at least I’m not going deaf”. I decide to walk up to the front porch of a house. As I reach up to ring the bell the lights turn off, I try and justify why that might have happened. A million answers run through my head, not all of them are reassuring though. I ring the bell but no answer. Next door the same thing happens, I proceed to ring the bell but before I can the lights turn out. I listen for any activity inside the house and hear nothing. That feeling of peace and serenity is now replaced with fear and unease. Turning around and walking down the stairs to the path I hear footsteps. They are quick, someone walking with a purpose. Just as quickly as I hear the footsteps I see him. I smile politely, not sure what else to do. He is an attractive man, his attire suggests he is from around here; he is well dressed with comfortable shoes. I open my mouth to ask for directions, but the man cuts me off. His voice is deep and authoritative and under normal circumstances I would want to hear him speak more, but what he says sends chills down my spine. “We need to get you out of here now!”
Oct 02, 2010
 @ Lindsay Cook
by: Crystal

I found your story really well written. I wanted there to be more. I wanted to know what happened to your character. Thank you for sharing that.
Sep 29, 2010
 Lesson 1 story
by: Anonymous

I pulled my new leather coat collar up to my ears and tucked my chin inside. It was starting to rain and I wish I hadn’t had to park so far from the café where I was meeting friends tonight. Suddenly I heard footsteps behind me. Something hit me on the top of my head, My heart started to pound. I reached to where I was hit and it felt it wet. “Was I bleeding? I looked at my hand for traces of my own blood. In these few seconds I knew I had to see who was behind me or break out running. There was no blood, only water, a drop of rain from the awning. I turned to meet my fear. Standing before me was a shrunken old women in layers of rags. She was all colorful with knots holding the pieces together. The scarf on her head was held on by rusty hair pins and the only buttons on her clothes were hanging on long loose threads. We stared at each other and then she said “This isn’t a good place for you to be walking by yourself.” I wasn’t sure what she wanted. She looked harmless enough but I knew that meant nothing. She was obviously homeless, and by whatever means one has to survive on the street, one does. “Can I help you?” I heard my shaky voice say. “No, I think I should help you.” Her voice as ragged as the weather,. “ Where are you going?” Sensing there was no ill will in her I replied, “Tia Café Cool, do you know where it is? “ Yes,” she said and led the way, scraping her shoes along the wet street. I could see her back was bent and pieces of gray hair hung under her worn shawl. Her shoes were very worn and pieces of plastic bags were stuck in the holes. “ It is cold tonight,” I say as I shiver. She turned slightly toward me to answer, “ Yes, all week it’s been so cold.” When we arrived, she turned to go, barely glancing up. But when she did I could see weariness but also intelligence in her blue eyes. How did she come to this life on the street? “Wait , “ I said,” I have some friends in there and I wondered if you would stay and have some coffee with us?” For the first time, her face showed emotion. “That would be nice she said, but you’re sure your friends won’t mind?”” No, I smiled, they won’t mind at all.”
Sep 28, 2010
 On A Lonely Street
by: OMacD

My ears prick up like a hare on a highway. My pace slows down to a crawl and then escalates at speed. Blood surges to my brain and drums pound their rhythm on my heart. I pull my colar tight against the morning cold. Thank god for the flat shoes and the legs born of the racetrack. A few furtive glances here and there tell me the street is empty and without soul. I must be imagining a tracker.
It is 5am!! Only snakes of bulbous lamps shimmer and glow like fireflies in the dense fog. Underfoot a rolling bottle top and shards of shattered glass like glinting dreams. A shaggy dog with no fixed abode cowers and whines hungrily in a doorway. To be on the safe side I burst into sprint and take the short cut through the graveyard to my work at the GPO Sorting Office.The End
Sep 25, 2010
 Endangered
by: Anonymous

I strolled down the lane slowly and cautiously. I needed the pace to ponder over what had happened. What did he want to say? What was so urgent enough to call in the middle of the night? Confused, I let my fingers run through my hair several times. Getting out of a night shift at this hour was not that easy either. I had to fake a medical emergency to get out. Calling him while in the office or even the bathroom was not safe. Even the bathroom taps had ears at 'Tech It'.

Walking alone in the dreary black night felt wicked. I took off my duppatta and draped it around my shoulders to prevent myself from the prickly cold breeze. When I was nearing the public booth I realised my footsteps weren't alone on that solitary lane. Fear gripped my lungs. Who could it be at this hour? A strange instinct told me that the footsteps were now moving rapidly and whatever it was, it was coming towards me. I paced my steps faster, almost like a run. I started to feel that something was closing in on me. An arm swung around my neck. I started to gasp for air. My face red with lack of air supply bacame further red when I tightened my neck muscles to prevent asphyxiation. I gripped the wrist of my enemy with utmost strength and anger. The anger of being harmed. When I felt the grip loosen a bit, I elbowed it at an area which was probably the abdomen. I saw it cringe for a second and then ran.

I ran madly not even stopping after a safe distance till I reached the office. Somehow it felt like going into paradise. I covered all my emotions up and slided into my cabin. I drank the last bit of water I had and rested my head beside the keyboard. I had calmed down a bit when a sound startled me. The sound of footsteps.
Sep 24, 2010
 Footsteps
by: Lindsay Cook

There is a mist hanging in the air. The kind that burns on your cheeks when you first step in to a cold November night. It hangs on the end of your eyelashes in fine droplets blurring your vision. The street lights are buzzing as I walk alone. I stroll down the familiar streets to my apartment not rushing as I know that all I have to look forward to is my intolerable flat mate Bella. She will be itching to unload all of the gossip she has from her ‘busy’ day over a obligatory glass of cold white wine. Complain? Why? Well, this involves cooing over the new Mr. Right she met today in the elevator or bumped in to at the bus stop! Seriously, every man who turns his head in her direction is the new Mr Right! Suddenly, my thoughts are interrupted by the sound of footsteps. Quietly but quickly they are getting closer to me from behind. I turn quickly, my hair swings around and sticks to my damp face and the footsteps stop. Anxiously squinting, I glance from side to side but but I don't see anybody. Turning back around towards home I wrap my coat tighter around myself and hurry my pace. The footsteps start again and they keep to my pace. I am starting to get scared and I think to myself, I am for once thankful Bella will be expecting me.
What feels like minutes but is probably only about 20 seconds goes by before I hurry in to a walk so fast that it must be classed as a run. The footsteps hurry as I speed up. I stop suddenly expecting the attacker/rapist/stalker to crash in to me as I turn but there is nobody there, "Hello?" I call, "Who's there?” I get no reply, all I hear is the distant car tyres on the wet roads a few streets away. I continue forward as fast as my size 5, 4 ½ inch heel Jimmy Choo stilettos will allow me to go, if only I had put on some 'sensible' I would be able to sprint now away from here. I am unsteady on my feet and decide that I must remove the shoes and continue, I try to bend and walk as fast as I can, I manage to get my left shoe off in one quick fumbling move but this leaves me hobbling and the footsteps still pursuing. As I bend down to my right I catch my shoulder on the wall to my side and I stumble, I hit my head, hard. My forehead hits the ground, "Shit!" I cry that really hurt, my hand flies up to my head and I see blood on my fingers and can feel it trickling down my face. Suddenly I realise that the footsteps have stopped now, gone, but as I look to my left I see two dark feet in smart tan leather shoes, I glance up fearfully only to see the silhouette of a tall figure, a man. "What do you want?..." There is no reply, "... here, have it!" I push my bag towards the man and try to stand up but the bang to my head causes me to fall again. Instead of my bag been ripped away and me been left in the gutter I feel two strong hands catch me, "Leave me alone please, I have nothing" I plead. Then, as I am been held up by the mysterious shadow everything goes black.
Sep 17, 2010
 Working Late
by: Jeff

I was staying late tonight to finish the last article. Then kaboom!!! The power went out. The sound was deafening. It must have been a the transformer close to my window. No point in staying now. It would take them an hour or so to fix that, if that is what it was. I start to the parking garage in the dark with the exception of the battery operated lights in the hallway.

“Great!” I thought as I entered the garage “It’s really dark out here, with only three of the six battery lights lit.” As I headed toward my car I caught a whiff of something electrical burning. You know that distinctive smell that it has, wafting through the air. Definitely the transformer.

As I approached my car I heard footsteps behind me. There was still another car in the garage besides mine. He or She must have been driven out also by the power outage. I wasn’t concerned. They seemed to be in a hurry though they were catching up with me. Then a hand was on my shoulder not like someone tapping you though. It felt like their left hand on my left shoulder I could feel the thumb between my shoulder blade and spine. Then with great force I was dragged backwards by this hand and at the same time, there was unbelievable pain in the right side of my back. The pain was so bad I thought I would pass out! Then I realized I’m being stabbed! I could feel the knife ripping through the muscle and into my lung! Oh My God!!! The pain was so intense! I tried to catch my breath and fight back. I felt the knife exit. I couldn’t get my breath! I felt cold air rushing in, my punctured lung trying in vain to operate. I was sweating profusely, yet so cold. I was on the ground now. Lying on my back. My attacker seemed to be wearing something over his head I couldn’t tell for sure. It was so dark. My mind racing! Was this it? Was this how it would end? I had to try and fight him off. I tried to move and he was coming down with the knife again. I put my arms up to defend myself. The knife cut into my arms as he hacked at them and sliced the blade through the flesh! At one point I heard and felt it hit the bone. I was so cold! Every attempt to breath brought waves of pain so great I would almost go out. I had to try harder! The knife came down again, into my right side just below the ribs. The pain was bad now I couldn’t hold on to consciousness. I was in and out. I was so cold. Each breath I tried to take I spit up blood. There was a great rasping sound with it. He was doing something now. I don’t know what. Probably taking my wallet or my briefcase. Will I make it out of this? So cold…so dark………………
Sep 17, 2010
 My first few lines are from the point of view that in such a situation a person has one of two thoughts Fight or Flight..
by: Cecil Joel David

As I walk down the eerie, dimly lit, empty, endless looking street, I get a feeling that there’s someone walking behind me with deliberate soft feet.

It’s well past midnight and there’s not a soul around. The main square is still fifteen minutes away and I get a little feeling of panic setting in.

Suddenly my mind starts churning up scary situations. May be all the horror movies I watched lately and the vampire stories I’ve recently read are catching up with me.

I feel I should hasten my footsteps but as I do so I feel the follower has just done the same, I feel I should turn and confront him or whatever it is but somehow cannot bring me to do it.

Then again I feel I must run at top speed and get as far away as possible. Then a thought crosses my mind, which brings me some solace, that it might just be one of my friends trying to have some fun.

My mind is a whirlwind of chaotic thoughts and I can feel the hair rising on the back of my neck as each second goes by. I even feel that any minute a long hairy hand may just grab me from the back or some thing may be about to pounce on me.

I am so numb with fear that I cannot even decide if it’s a human being at all that’s so close on my heels.

Every step I take, the grip of fear tightens on me and I almost reach the point of screaming for help but still cannot muster the courage to turn around and face this thing closing in on me.

I am scared out of my skin .
Sep 15, 2010
 Back Road
by: Cari

This is just my luck, I am mumbling to myself as I open the car door and step out into the night. Checking to see if my cellular telephone has miraculously gotten service in the two feet I have moved it. No luck. The gravel under my healed boots crunches and reminds me that I am walking in four inch heals wide but still heals. I scan around the dead Bonneville taking in trees and tangles of brush along both sides of the gravel road Old Trusty has stranded me on. I am calculating in my mind that I am in the middle of No-Where and my best hope is to walk until I find a spot where my telephone will pick up enough tower to allow me to call for rescue.
The moon is full over head, casting shadows in the woods. I can smell a swamp near by and can practically hear all the creepy crawlies that come out to play at night in Michigan swamps. Rolling my neck around to relieve some of the tension I begin to walk, a meander at first and then I get into my stride and I am soon out of sight of my vehicle. As a rule, I am not afraid of the dark or what’s in it but this country road, if you could call it a road is pretty spooky. The hair begins to rise on the back of my neck a fraction of an instant before I hear the sound of footsteps behind me. My heart pounds like a jackhammer in my chest and a big adrenaline dump has me primed to run as fast as I can and as far as I can.
Stopping I turn to look into the moon bright dark and my eyes fail to pin point exactly where the foot step sounds are coming from.
Sep 14, 2010
 encounter
by: Christel

The air was charged after the rain and the tarred road steamed from the condensing water. This was always my favorite time to go for a walk. Due to the very recent storm most people would consign themselves indoors with no thought of going outdoors and consequently I tended to have the whole neighbourhood to myself. I'd already been walking for twenty minutes and had seen no-one on the roads and so decided to venture into the nearby park and enjoy the freshness of sub-urban nature.

The grass was squishy underfoot and exposed tear in the underside of my sneakers. . All around me the trees and shrubbery were spectral after the rain. Everything had a re-born quality and I felt like the only person alive. It was as though the rain had washed the human presence from the world. The air was chill but invigorating and water dripped from the weighted trees. I made my way to a narrow bridge overlooking a pond at the to see if the geese had returned after the storm. They had and stood alongside the water speculatively as if uncertain whether to go for a sail or no. I would walk home in a moment. I could tell the special privacy I had enjoyed was drawing to a close. Imperceptibility the human presence was intruding in the outside world again although I could see no-one.

I turned to head back when I heard as much as felt the ground vibrate and a series of thumps sounded harsh and threatening. My heart seemed to follow suit and although I had been in a state of complete tranquility my heart surged and seemed to want to burst from my chest. And in that charged moment a man in flapping clothes erupted from around the bush and I realised where I stood I was very much an obstacle on his chosen course. The bridge I stood on would not allow us both passage and I realised from his disorganized momentum he would not change his trajectory. I backed away as quickly as I could managing to reach the other end of the bridge before a sudden dip at the edge resulted in my sprawling on my back on the grass. He maniacally sidestepped past me lunging forward only to turn and face me a few meters ahead. By now I was immobilized with fear and lay there helplessly half raised up in my arms. My eyes must have bulged from my sockets but my body was unresponsive. He paused and looked back at me and laughed loudly. His shaggy clothes slapped wetly about him and I saw his face briefly before he turned again and moved on . All I registered was the crazy smile that animated his features like a devilish marionette. That and from his long sleeve extruded a glint of sharp metal. He left me frozen in his wake. If I hadn't fallen and so unwittingly removed myself from his path would that sharp spike have been in my belly?
Sep 14, 2010
 Terror on the witness stand
by: Joseph F.Mazzaferro

It is said that Nero fiddled as Rome burned.
Sunday September 11, 2010, it started in New York City, the city that never sleeps would have another sleepless night, in this Brooklyn naborhood, the door was shockingly left wide open. I walked into the house slowly, after calling out and not getting any answers.
I called 911 on my cell phone. I sensed something was terribly wrong. The 911 operator told me to wait outside the house until the black and whites arrive. The police cars showed up a short time later the flashing lights flooding in the streets.
The little hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I had this gut feeling, someone was watching me my every move. I heard the police sirens going and the lights flashing down on the street. Just what could possibly happen with the cops present? You would be oh so surprised.
I saw a little red dot on my shoulder. I quickly hit the ground. A shot rang out just missed my head by inches. Police open their car doors using them as shield with their guns drawn. Some psycho was using me for target practice.
With bull horns in hand the police were telling the sniper to surrender himself the police checked out every location that someone would be able to shoot a rifle from. Police helicopters’ Circling overhead.
They did not find the sniper. That made me feel as safe as a minnow in a shark tank. He just up and disappeared. Later I was told by the police I was damned lucky, with lazar scopes they never mis-their targets, accept this time. I would be dead if it wasn’t for my quick reflexes and rubbery legs.
I showed the cops my I.D. As the officer read it back to me, “William Lake Special Investigator for the DA’s office.” He asked me, What the hell was I doing here? I told him, “my job” I told him “I was sent here to speak with the witness on a high profile terrorist’s case, to offer to place him the witness put him under protective custody, then in the witness protection program.”
While the police canvassed the whole naborhood, house by house. I walked into the witnesses house it was too late. I found the body of the witness, he had been skinned and tortured, gutted alive like an animal. Some terror group was sending a message.
Sep 14, 2010
 encounter
by: Christel

The air was charged after the rain and the tarred road steamed from the condensing water. This was always my favorite time to go for a walk. Due to the very recent storm most people would consign themselves indoors with no thought of going outdoors and consequently I tended to have the whole neighborhood to myself. I'd already been walking for twenty minutes and had seen no-one on the roads and so decided to venture into the nearby park and enjoy the freshness of sub-urban nature.

The grass was squishy underfoot and exposed tear in the underside of my sneakers. . All around me the trees and shrubbery were spectral after the rain. Everything had a re-born quality and I felt like the only person alive. It was as though the rain had washed the human presence from the world. The air was chill but invigorating and water dripped from the weighted trees. I made my way to a narrow bridge overlooking a pond at the to see if the geese had returned after the storm. They had and stood alongside the water speculatively as if uncertain whether to go for a sail or no. I would walk home in a moment. I could tell the special privacy I had enjoyed was drawing to a close. Imperceptibility the human presence was intruding in the outside world again although I could see no-one.

I turned to head back when I heard as much as felt the ground vibrate and a series of thumps sounded harsh and threatening. My heart seemed to follow suit and although I had been in a state of complete tranquility my heart surged and seemed to want to burst from my chest. And in that charged moment a man in flapping clothes erupted from around the bush and I realized where I stood I was very much an obstacle on his chosen course. The bridge I stood on would not allow us both passage and from his disorganized momentum I knew he would not change his trajectory. I backed away as quickly as I could managing to reach the other end of the bridge before a sudden dip at the edge resulted in my sprawling on my back on the grass. He maniacally sidestepped past me lunging forward only to turn and face me a few meters ahead. By now I was immobilized with fear and lay there helplessly half raised up in my arms. My eyes must have bulged from my sockets but my body was unresponsive. He paused and looked back at me and laughed loudly. His shaggy clothes slapped wetly about him and I saw his face briefly before he turned again and moved on . All I registered was the crazy smile that animated his features like a devilish marionette. That and from his long sleeve extruded a glint of sharp metal. He left me frozen in his wake. If I hadn't fallen and so unwittingly removed myself from his path would that sharp spike have been in my belly?
Sep 10, 2010
 First Adult Kiss
by: judy

Ten year old Becky was happy to be outside after being in the house all day trying to remain cool. Television got boring after a while. The evaporative or swamp coolers were practically useless during the hot triple digit days. The oppressive desert heat of the day would give way to cooler evenings and children seem to suddenly bring the quiet yards to life at six thirty every evening.

Becky joined the group of children ranging from 6-10 in a game of “Kick the Can.” Fourteen year old Jack sat on the tiny concrete slab that was supposed to be a porch, watching Becky. He was her secret protector and only Becky’s mother knew that Jack had appointed himself to watch over her. One of the younger kids was “it” and the game had begun with the count. Becky ran to the edge of the huge yard where there were some oleander bushes and crept to the shadows. Feeling rather pleased with herself, she remained still for what seem an eternity. Thinking it had been long enough she peeked out and no one was there. It was as quiet as it had been during the heat of the day. With a sinking feeling of loneliness, she turned around to go home across the desolate yard. As if magic, Jack appeared. He looked so serious when he told her everyone went in for the night and she better go too. Becky was the oldest sibling so was used to giving orders rather than taking orders so told Jack that she would leave when she felt like it. Jack knew Becky well enough to know that she had to be the one in control. He also knew she had to go home. It was dangerous for her to be out alone in such a rough and lowdown neighborhood. Becky was daring Jack to make her leave. Jack looked at that stubborn face and put his arms around her. She looked up at his face with her deep blue eyes while his lips came down on hers. The adult kiss terrified her. Becky pulled way with frightened eyes and ran as fast as her feet could move. Jack just stood there with a half smile. He was satisfied as he watched her opened her door and disappeared into the house.



Sep 10, 2010
 Musical Footsteps
by: GentleWind

I loved your story, Sue. It reminded me of a song by Neil Diamond(tells on my age!)called, A Beautiful Noise. I love that song!
Sep 10, 2010
 Musical Footsteps
by: Fee

She tapped out a rhythm with her heels taking pleasure form the spiky sound and preciseness of the note when her heels touched the pavement. If she focused on the sound alone, it sounded like a lonely percussion instrument setting a base rhythm for the rest of the orchestra.
Then she became aware of a bass contribution to her clicking heels. It sounded duller but more rounded and there was a slight shuffle on every second footstep.

She smiled to herself as she listened to the concert of their steps. She became aware of other sounds adding to the orchestra. A rustle of leaves adding more percussion to the beat, and then a sighing of waste paper stirred by the same frisson of air. She walked a little faster to change the rhythm of the music as she came closer to her destination.

Behind her, the deeper footsteps sped up unconsciously keeping time with her. She wondered how susceptible the owner of the shoes was to the music being played out and she grinned again. She swung her handbag against the railing hearing the buckles tinkle in time to her steps. It was street music created by movement and the oblivious co-opted members to her orchestra.
Aug 29, 2010
 Darkness
by: Sue

I shut the entrance behind me and turned to face the half dark morning lane. Glancing furtively along either side of the lane, I assured myself that there was nobody else there but me. I walked down the lane, turned into a narrower one, straightened my back, took my chin up and summoned all my courage to help me pass through the lonely lanes before reaching the Square.
I had heard stories about people being chased and rubbed in the dark from a neighbor. After a few steps I thought that I heard distant hurried footsteps behind me. It seemed that a person was hurrying along but at the same time taking care that the sound of his footsteps does not attract attention. I instantly felt my throat going dry and my heartbeat raising. However, I decided to be calm and remain alert to every motion around me. Trying to see both left and right sides of me as much as I could strain my eyes without turning my head, I wished I was brave enough to take a calm undisturbed look behind. But I was not.
The footsteps got closer. I took a look at the sky strewn with fluffy ashen clouds and slightly quickened my pace. Clutching the strap of my shoulder bag tightly, I went over fastest reactions I could demonstrate if I was attacked in my head; kicking, screaming, …But at the bottom of my heart I did not believe that any thing bad would happen to me, or perhaps I simply wished so. I turned into a small street that would eventually lead to the Square. Still there was nobody in sight.
The footsteps had got really close, perhaps just a few steps behind me. The nasty sound of those footsteps sent a weakening chill through my legs and hands. For a few seconds I closed my eyes and when I opened them again, I saw a dark figure that had caught up with me, almost walking shoulder to shoulder with me on my right. I ventured a look at the figure and to my great surprise and relief I saw that the footsteps belonged to just another girl, smaller than me in stature. It seemed that she had just tried to hurry into safety by walking close to me. Overtaking me in her still hurried steps, she turned her head towards me for a moment, and I thought that I saw a smile on her face in the now-much-lighter dark.
Aug 28, 2010
 About Loney Street
by: Joseph F. Mazzaferro

I find the setting of mood to be refreshing in this piece. Like a summer breas is on a hot day.
J.F.M.
Aug 28, 2010
 Lonely street
by: Cindy

Whisper of tennis shoes – am I just imagining it? No! There it is again! I slow my steps and strain to hear. I’m afraid to turn and look, afraid of what’s there. It’s just turned dusk; I see dim figures in front of me. What if I turn around and he’s right there? What do I do?
I’m still not sure I hear the footsteps. Wait! There it is. My heart leaps and starts to beat harder. I think I can hear it. Am I sure the footsteps are still there? Yes, I’m sure this time. I speed up. I’m walking faster now. I can hear my own footsteps now. Are those quiet ones still there? I peer into the dim light ahead. Is that a man up ahead, right in my path? No, it’s a tree branch, I think. Shit! There are the footsteps again! This time, they’re even closer!
Aug 17, 2010
 The night
by: Anonymous

I strolled along the dirty and abandoned pavements as I looked down only to see trash covering the sides of the sidewalk. The rain poured heavily as I realized how soaked and wet I was. I knew that the rain on my face were mixed with tears as I though to myself 'where could he be?' I knew my friend was out here somewhere. I felt the anger well up inside of me.'could he have been selling drugs?'I thought to myself. God knows only knows what he was doing arund these streets at this time of night. Suddenly,I heard footsteps behind me. As I sensed the person's warm breath on my neck. I fastened my pace as my heart raced. I did not dare to turn around. The footsteps continued on. I felt the warmth of the body on my back. It only took me seconds to realize that the person was right behind me again. I felt something grab. I tried to fight back but I realized all of my strength was being drained out of me. I fainted.Was I stabbed? And what would this guy want from me?
Aug 13, 2010
 continue lonely road
by: Chanel T

As I'm still walking fast trying to hurry home the footsteps are getting closer to the point were I can feel someone standing behind of me. The streetlight flickered on and off I could feel someone right on the tip of my shoulder I look to both sides of me just moving my eyes trying not to make it obvious that I'm turning my head I can see a shadow of a large person standing over me in the light. I'm wondering if I should turn around or just keep walking I grab my Paris Hilton pink and black striped glass bottle of perfume ready to turn around and hit it on him I turned around real fast like how JROTC turns when they do they march I turn fast enough to make me dizzy right when I turned around I tripped on a deep pothole and I landed on my knees I fastly look up the person was gone I get up and start walking again as I feel a burn on my knees when the wind blows I look down as fast as I could trying not to trip on another pothole I see redness and the blood coming down my legs on to a rhinestone on my high heels. Almost home about 5 minutes away all of a sudden I feel someone breeding over me I can feel the pressure of his breeding pushing against the top of my head his breeding so strong and you could feel the heat on his breeding it felt like a blow dryer. I run a little enough space for me to turn around with out him grabbing me as soon as turn around I look at him he's wearing a old ragged faded shirt that supposed to be black and cut up jeans pants with dirt stains on the thigh put he had a black bread looks like he didn't shave for months he was a big and tall about 6'7 I only got about 4 seconds to look at him then he runs towards me like how a bull charges people I threw my purfume bottom at his face as he yells "ouch" while holding his face he stops then I start to run turning on my street I ran so fast I tripped couple times but fastly get up. As soon as I get home I open the door the door is locked I reach in my bag trying to grab my keys I grab it unlock the door then I open the window to look if the guy was there he was long gone. The next morning I was watching the news they said "wanted guy" last wearing ragged faded black shirt with cut up jeans then I look at the t.v it was the same guy from last night he's a criminal that the cops been searching for about 3 months. He's known for rapping girls and murdering them. I was so shocked never again would I walk home late at night by myself. I would of got killed !
Aug 13, 2010
 lonely road
by: Chanel T

I'm on my way home walking down elm street a very lonely street. Its peace and quiet no cars passed me for about 5 minutes now. No apartment lights were on It was just blacked out the only lights were the streetlights. I hear a noise I just think that Its just my imagination. Then again I noticed to hear footsteps It was so quiet you could barely hear them then It stopped seconds later I could hear the footsteps again there foot softly hitting the the gravel on the street like they was trying sneak up on me. As I walk faster in my high heels about 5inches tall barley could even walk without falling or tripping. The footsteps came louder and louder like thump thump thump I dig in to my purse while trying to walk real fast I try to look for the most sharpest object in my purse imagining my plan in my head I'm imagining if this person grabs me
and strangles me then I can just stab something sharp to his/her hand so he would let go of me. I couldn't find anything sharp so i gave up looking.
Aug 13, 2010
 scary night
by: dallah bill

As I was walking down a lonely street form kalihi,it was night time like around 12pm it was loneley as I was walking I heard a footstep walking behind me, I scared because it was getting closer and closer so then I start walking faster and faster but the footstep in the back of me keep come faster it sound it sound it like boot running the back of me like as I run faster it run faster so then I slow down then it slow down to so the I look down slowly I saw a shadow but I dont know if it is a boy/girl but yeah I was still scared so I was think of something like if I drop something he will detp on it so as I drop a stick that I pck up form the tree that I saw so then I dorp it he/she drop on it so then I back when he/she step and it gone so I pick up the stick it was in half so then I see a bus stop it had light if I go there then maybe I can see he/she then I can found out who it is so then I start running it start to run with me so then I got there nothing again but then something was coming this old man he look so sick and his cloth are drity and he smell and when he was breathing he could not catch his breath so i called 911 I said I needed a paramedic now but know i know who was behind me.I think he was walking behind me becuase he needed my help but I dont get that when I was walking and when i was looking back he was gone but i was wondering how did he do that.That what im thinking about of how he diseapear.
Aug 13, 2010
 scary night
by: dallah bill

As I was walking down a lonely street form kalihi,it was night time like around 12pm it was loneley as I was walking I heard a footstep walking behind me, I scared because it was getting closer and closer so then I start walking faster and faster but the footstep in the back of me keep come faster it sound it sound it like boot running the back of me like as I run faster it run faster so then I slow down then it slow down to so the I look down slowly I saw a shadow but I dont know if it is a boy/girl but yeah I was still scared so I was think of something like if I drop something he will detp on it so as I drop a stick that I pck up form the tree that I saw so then I dorp it he/she drop on it so then I back when he/she step and it gone so I pick up the stick it was in half so then I see a bus stop it had light if I go there then maybe I can see he/she then I can found out who it is so then I start running it start to run with me so then I got there nothing again but then something was coming this old man he look so sick and his cloth are drity and he smell and when he was breathing he could not catch his breath so i called 911 I said I needed a paramedic now but know i know who was behind me.I think he was walking behind me becuase he needed my help but I dont get that when I was walking and when i was looking back he was gone but i was wondering how did he do that.That what im thinking about of how he diseapear.
Aug 13, 2010
 Scary walk
by: Anonymous

As I was walking down from the beach, I heard footsteps behind me that I got scared.When I turn back I didn't see anyone but my shadow.As I keep walking,the loud footsteps would be following me where ever I go.But for a couple while its stop, but a shadow past me in a seconds! I tried to look around me but the light of the streets was too light that I barely see.I tried calling my dad but he didn't answer so as my mom.It was around midnight and I couldn't catch any ride from my friends so i decided to walk all the way down to the bus stop.Meanwhile when I was still walking down from the beach, the footsteps didn't stop at all. When I got paranoid I started to run all the way to the bus stop, the bus was 10 feet away from me so I catched it. When I took the bus I was so relieved and happy. Then that night I came home and went to sleep because I have nothing to
worry about.
Aug 07, 2010
 Identifying Marks
by: Renee

I step into the street. It was dark, the only light coming from the houses and streetlights. It was quiet as I was walking down Cullman. I was unaware of the footsteps behind me. I slowly turn my head to the left and look down to see if there's a shadow or wonder if my hearing is playing tricks on me. I decide to speed up, walk faster. The sound is moving quicker also. I grab my cell and mace. I look around for something to throw just in case; a rock or a stick. Something to put between me and him. My mind is moving quickly now. I make sure I'm under the streetlights. I see a car coming and I veer off into the street. I get in front of the car so the headlights can shine on me and the stalker as I turn my back to get a good look. I stop suddenly and shout at the top of my lungs 'What the hell you following me for?' The car stops. The assailant moves closer. His form starts to become recognizable. The man in the car gets out and moves closer to me as we both get a glimpse of him. He looks disheveled; his clothes dirty and torn. He’s wearing a camouflage jacket and boots. He’s carrying a backpack. In his left hand he has an empty bottle of booze. His right hand is closed. I had 911 on the phone and my can of mace ready. All of a sudden he started to stumble. His eyes were red and his lips cracked. He had several scars on the left side of his face. As he got closer he kept trying to say something. His speech was slurred. His boots were scraping against the asphalt and then he collapsed onto his side, his right arm trying to break his fall, his right hand closed tightly still in a fist. I told 911 to send a paramedic. The man from the car and I knelt down. We were afraid to touch him. His breathing was heavy, labored. He smelled as if he hadn't bathed in a year. We looked around for any identification. I kept wondering what he had in his right hand that he held on so tightly to it. I was afraid to see what was in it but curious at the same time. We moved the man onto his back. The man from the car noticed a tattoo on his right arm. He could see it through the tear in his jacket. It was from the army. The man from the car recognized the tattoo immediately. It was from a platoon in Nam. He looked at his fist and attempted to pry open his fingers. He turned his hand over, grabbed the index finger and gently pulled it away from his palm. He then was able to move all his fingers back and lastly his thumb. There, inside, were dog tags. They were worn, scratched, and the writing was difficult to read. Private Robert Henderson, 12th Division, DaNang, 1969. I looked over at the man from the car. He had tears in his eyes and I could tell his entire soul was hurting. The breakthing stopped. He opened Private Henderson’s jacket. He ripped what was left of his shirt and we could see the scars from shrapnel and a bullet wound on his lower left side. The man from the car reverently began CPR on Private Robert Henderson.


Aug 07, 2010
 @ Lynsey
by:

Thanks for sharing this. I especially like the narrator's idea of the beach as a person that he/she is visiting and the gradual transformation of the beach from friendly to hostile.

Nancy (Creative Writing Now)
Aug 07, 2010
 @ David
by:

Very imaginative. I like the way you set up the ending with the narrator's temptation to follow the other dog and heightened sense of smell.

Nancy (Creative Writing Now)
Aug 07, 2010
 @ Nancy F.
by:

I enjoyed reading the rewrites of Serendipity, as well as the two versions of the dream story. In the dream sequence, I like way the tone shifts as the narrator unexpectedly loses control of the dream.

Nancy (Creative Writing Now)
Aug 01, 2010
 The Unknown
by: Lynsey

One cool summers evening I decided to take a brisk walk down the by the beach. The tide was high by the time I got there so decided just to walk down the small narrow path next to it. There’s a small pebble wall that separates the two of us from one & another.
I say the two of us like the beach is actually an actual person who I can come & visit. Tonight it feels like it is, the long tall crashing waves together with a small gentle breeze feels like its whispering, whispering small hidden secrets to me, as if the breeze is blowing its arms round about my neck & whispering right into my ear.
I turn to listen for what seems a while or maybe just a few minutes, could have been, anyway who would have known for I was away in my own little world, dreaming taking in everything the ocean was telling me. I was completely under its spell it had taken me away with the wind & the ocean hypnotising me with every ripple & crash of its waves.
Just then I felt a long drip of water hit my head with surprise & drip down my face, waking me from my trance, then came another & another. Damn that rain & nothing even to shield me from it.
Just as I start to walk back the way I came I start to feel like there was someone behind me, then footsteps. Was there really someone behind me or was it a figment of my own imagination? Had I woken up or was I still in a trance under the clutches of the ocean?
I turn to look back but no one seemed to be there. Strange, I kept walking but yet again more footsteps, should I be worried, for this was a quiet sandy path and I hadn’t seen anyone for miles. Or was it again the ocean & wind playing tricks on me, was it trying to grab me in its clutches once again?
I began to move faster, the rain now getting harder, I’m now heating up, its very humid tonight, the smell of seaweed is strong, like a strong salty smell. Its now curling & curling around in the wind & sends a burst of it up my nose which hits the back of my throat.
I cough, oh it almost stings as the more I walk the drier my throat gets. I can no longer hear the sound of footsteps, infact in the distance is speeding up & feels like a galloping horse charging right behind me, getting faster & faster.
Oh no, now my walk is getting faster, breaking into a run. Was it a horse or was it the sound of my own heart beat? I don’t bother to turn round. I keep running & panting faster......


Aug 01, 2010
 Impulse
by: David

I gradually make my way down a small pathway between two bushes out into a large street. I look around not a soul in sight. I figure it must be early I can see the due on the grass and taste the moisture in the air.

I decide to carry on down the long empty road; all of a sudden I hear a jingle like a bell coming from a rumbling bush behind a rusted fence. Out of no were a ball of fluff emerges, ah it’s only a cat I thought. With my softest voice I call it towards me, terror in the eyes of the cat it takes off across the road in among a row of oak trees.

I press on down the road. I can hear faint footsteps coming from behind me. I resist the urge to look round , I begin to hear panting so I glance behind me I see a large dog I can’t tell the breed. I figure it’s from the Far East looks very exotic. It was so beautiful I was mesmerized standing still it approached me gave me a sniff and passed. I found it hard not to follow her. I could smell the dog’s damp fur well after she was out of sight.

I carried on once again I made my way towards a black car the first parked car I had seen on passing I glimpsed at the side I had to look twice at the reflection that met me, floppy ears, hairy skin, a tail, oh my god I’m a dog!
Jul 30, 2010
 10 minute re-write #2
by: Nancy F

Oh. The prickles recede. This is a dream. That is why I feel out of sync like two superimposed photos. Kind of blurry, but you can still see every detail in the picture. That’s got to be the reason I’m standing barefoot in the driveway in my granddaughter’s princesses nightgown. I once read that you can lead dreams as soon as you realize that you are dreaming. That is good because I am cold. I pull my robe tighter around me and I realize that I am now wearing my slippers. O.K. Lets see where this goes. I can not seem to move. My skin is crawling with goose bumps. Why is there a horse clip clopping on the concrete behind me? I look down instead of behind me. That is odd. The clip clop is rubbing up against my legs. It is Winkie my cat. Although I have called him a horse before because he weighs 16 pounds and is 30 inches nose to tail, he is only my own tom winding around my legs and feet. You cringe when he comes running at you. I change the clip clop to the soft, almost silent padding that I usually hear when Winkie runs through the house. Except I am outside. Winkie leaps onto the old Packard on my right. He crosses the hood and comes back only to rub around the antenna. Antenna? Wait a minute! My car is a Scion. It does not have an antenna. My brother had an old car like this. I am probably remembering that. The clip clop is back. Winkie is clip clopping through the air in front of me. Every time he puts his paw down the sound reverberates. He slowly stalks to the tree limb that is now in front of me. That is the way dreams are, you know. Stuff just appears, and you figure out why later. Winkie is winding around the tree limb. It is amusing to see he is winding horizontally. That would make a great amusement park ride and the sound changes to the rushing clatter of a roller coaster. He reaches the trunk of the tree and climbs. Except that he’s not clinging to the tree. He is just clinking vertically up the trunk. It sounds like a coaster car being pulled up a long incline. What’s with the roller coaster sound? I try to change it back to the soft padding that is normally his sound. I can not. He is nearly to the top of the tree. Winkie leaps out into a dive. His mouth is open teeth bared. He sounds like a roaring train, headed straight for me. I try to move because his claws are out, getting longer and bigger. He is growing in size as he falls. His eyes are enormous, grotesque and glittery with danger. I am afraid and I want to move but I am frozen, stuck in his destructive path. I feel the rumble of his approach. The earth is shaking. Wake up. Wake up before he hits you. This is not how I thought this dream would go. I open my eyes. I am safe in my bed, and Winkie is curled up against my legs. Awareness floods through me as fast as the thundering earthquake rolls off into the distance.
Jul 30, 2010
 Serendipity re-write #2
by: Nancy F

The corner bakery beckons me about every morning for coffee and a freshly baked bagel. I’m pretty much always the first customer in the mourning. It generally too early for anyone to be up and busy. That’s when I enjoy walking down this street. This morning the air is gold and crisp and rusty red leaves whisper quietly down the street accompanying the morning breeze. Steam from my coffee warms my face as I sip. My Tods make clear staccoto beats on the sidewalk. So I do a little HEEL/toe just to make it sound a little syncopated because I feel good this morning, lucky, like its going to be a great day. There’s a rhythmic echo behind me. Making the same sound that I am making. HEEL, tow, HEEL toe. I glance around and see a guy with a bag of bagels in his arms. I recognize the jacket from the bakery. I can’t see his face because of his hood but I can see the little wave he gives me as we step down the street. I sip my coffee and keep going. But I’m really digging the morning so I keep up the little tap steps I learned as a kid. All along the guy behind me is keeping up, copying all the sounds I make with my feet. I add a little shuffle to the sound. So does the guy behind me. Except he adds his steps in between my steps. He’s better than me but it feels great we have a routine going. A sidewalk snare drum solo. And we are the sticks. Anybody looking out their brownstone window is going to get a show. I spread my arms and step out, coffee in one hand and bagel in the other, swinging around. I expect to see this guy but alls I see is a the back of his coat, arms holding the bag of bagels out to the side. Tapping backwards. He’s matching every step I take. Pretty soon we are dancing down the street, really styling, the sidewalk moving under us like some concrete belt conveyor. We’re Hot! We’re a Fred Astair movie playing out for real. I gotta stop and meet this guy. You know, introduce myself. But as I turn and start to speak he’s already walking off down another street. He waves the bag of bagels at me without turning around. I’m slightly deflated that the show’s over. But the quiet and the cool fit right back into the morning. It’s all good. I sip my coffee. It warms my face and I smile. I start walking. Ya, it’s going to be a great day.
Jul 30, 2010
 Serendipity Lesson 1 re-write
by: Nancy F

I love walking down this street. Especially when its fall and the air is gold and crisp. And early. It’s got to be early in the morning before everybody is up and busy. Steam from my coffee warms my face. I have plans for cream cheese and the warm bagel I just bought. The sound of my shoes on the sidewalk is also crisp. I like that too. So I do a little heel toe just to make it sound a little syncopated because I feel good this morning, lucky, like its going to be a great day. There’s a rhythmic echo behind me. Making the same sound that I am making. Heel, tow, heel toe. I glance around and see a guy with a bag of bagels in his arms. I recognize the jacket from the bakery. I can’t see his face because of his hood but I can see the little wave he gives me as we step down the street. I sip my coffee and keep going. But I’m really digging the morning so I keep up the little tap steps I learned as a kid. All along the guy behind me is keeping up, copying all the sounds I make with my feet. I decide to add a little shuffle to the sound. So does this guy behind me. Except he adds his steps in between my steps. He’s better than me but it feels great we have a routine going. Great sound coming from the sidewalk. Anybody looking out their brownstone window is going to get a show. I decide to add some arms to my routine and I step out, coffee in one hand and bagel in the other, swinging around. I expect to see this guy but alls I see is a the back of his coat, arms holding the bag of bagels out to the side. Tapping backwards. He’s matching every step I take. Pretty soon we are dancing down the street, really styling, the sidewalk moving under us like some concrete belt conveyor. We’re Hot! We’re a Fred Astair movie playing out for real. I gotta stop and meet this guy. You know, introduce myself. I turn and start to speak. But he’s already walking off down another street. He waves the bag of bagels at me without turning around. I’m slightly deflated that the show’s over. But the quiet and the cool fit right back into the morning. It’s all good. I sip my coffee. It warms my face and I smile. I start walking. Ya, it’s going to be a great day.
Jul 30, 2010
 10 minute writing lesson 1
by: Nancy F.

Oh. The prickles go away. This is a dream. That’s why I feel out of sync like two superimposed photos. Kind of blurred but still you can make out every detail in the picture. That’s got to be the reason I’m standing barefoot in the driveway in my granddaughter’s princesses nightgown. I read once that you can control dreams as soon as you realize that you are dreaming. That good because I’m cold. I pull my robe tighter around me and now I see that I am wearing slippers. My slippers. O.K. Lets see where this goes. I can’t seem to move. My skin is alive with goose bumps. Why is there a horse clip clopping on the concrete behind me. I look down instead of behind me. That’s odd. The clip clop is rubbing up against my legs. It’s Winkie my cat. Although I’ve called him a horse before because he weighs 16 pounds and is 30 inches nose to tail, he’s still my own cat winding around my legs and feet. You cringe when he comes running at you. I change the clip clop to the soft, almost silent padding that I normally hear when Winkie runs through the house. Except I’m outside. Winkie leaps to the old Packard on my right. He crosses the hood and comes back only to wind around the antenna. Antenna? Wait a minute! My car is a Scion and it doesn’t have an antenna. My brother had an old car like this. I’m probably remembering that. The clip clop is back and Winkie walks through the air in front of me. Every time he puts his paw down the sound reverberates. He slowly stalks to the tree limb that is now in front of me. That’s the way dreams are, you know. Stuff just appears and you figure out why later. Winkie is winding around the tree limb. It’s amusing to see him winding horizontally. That would make a great amusement park ride and the sound changes to the rushing clatter of a roller coaster. He reaches the trunk of the tree and climbs. Except that he’s not clinging to the tree, he’s just clinking vertically up the trunk, a car being pulled up the long incline, all the way. What’s with the roller coaster sound? I try in to change it back to the soft padding that is normally his sound but I can’t. He’s nearly reached the top of the tree. Winkie leaps out into a dive. His mouth is is open teeth bared. He sounds like a roaring train, headed straight for me. I try to move because his claws are out, getting longer and bigger. He growing in size as he falls. His eyes are wide and glittery with menace. I’m afraid and I want to move but I’m frozen, stuck in his destructive path. I feel the rumble of his approach. The ground is actually shaking. Wake up. Wake up before he hits you. This isn’t how I thought this dream would go. I open my eyes. I’m safe in my bed, Winkie curled up against my legs. Awareness floods through me as fast as the earthquake rolls away.
Jul 29, 2010
 @ Nancy F.
by:

Hi Nancy,

Don't worry! The 10-minute time limit is just meant to take pressure off and make the process easy. Of course, if you want to keep writing after the 10 minutes and add more sensory details, that's wonderful! Absolutely feel free to share the rewrites here. It will be a pleasure to read them.

All the best,

The Other Nancy (Creative Writing Now)
Jul 28, 2010
 question for Nancy
by: Nancy F

How important is it to add sensory detail? And chosing which detail to keep and ones to leave out? I've already noticed areas where I could change what I wrote. Can I resubmit the rewrites? What about after the timer goes off? I still had part of the story to tell.
Jul 28, 2010
 This is my first eleven lines.
by: Joseph F.Mazzaferro

Nick Murdock Private Eye

Written by Joseph F. Mazzaferro.

Its old school grant you Nick and Nora Charles or Sam Spade, type detective stories. JFM
__________________________________________________

(1)

it’s hard to walk in a straight line after indulging in Vodka and orange juice all night long.

(2)

A bit tipsy I'd be. Screwdrivers have been the key to my weight control puking my brains out on a regular basis.

(3)

I spent more time on the ground at the bar then in my office.

(4)

Even my secretary Thelma's given up on me kicking the juicing habit a long time ago.

(5)

She would stop by the bar to pick me up, force feeding me several cups of black coffee to sober me up.

(6)

With my blood shot eyes at the office, on the door my blurry vision, I'd Read Nick Murdock Private eye.

(7)

Thelma sitting at her desk with the stack of un-paid bills.

(8)

Thelma warned me, Nick screwdrivers and pretzel's is not a meal. It will kill you one of these days.

(9)

I would sit at my desk with that stupid smirk on my face, I knew she was right.

(10)

Once more Thelma would hock her jewels to pull my bacon out of the fire.

(11)

I would get lucky and a client would walk in off the street.
Jul 28, 2010
 @Joseph F.Mazzaferro
by: Liad

Hey,

It's a really good idea. Your detective story sounds really intriguing. I would be happy to see it. And I'll show some of my work. I have an unpolished psychological thriller.
Jul 28, 2010
 @Nancy
by: Liad

Your story really got me in the mood. I read it in the morning and it really made my day :)
Jul 27, 2010
 @ Nancy F.
by:

This is a really imaginative approach to the assignment! I like the rhythm of your writing and love the idea of a spontaneous sidewalk dance.

The Other Nancy (Creative Writing Now)
Jul 27, 2010
 @ Liad
by:

Thanks for sharing this! I'm curious about the story behind the rose.

Nancy (Creative Writing Now)
Jul 27, 2010
 Serendipity
by: Nancy F.

I love walking down this street. Especially when its fall and the air is gold and crisp. And early. It’s got to be early in the morning before everybody is up and busy. That’s when I get a cup of coffee and a bagel as I walk back to my flat. The sound of my shoes on the side walk is also crisp. I like that too. So I do a little heel toe just to make it sound a little syncopated because I feel good this morning, lucky, like its going to be a great day. Then I become aware of another set of rhythmic shoes hitting the sidewalk. Making the same sound that I am making. Heel, tow, heel toe. I glance around and see another guy with a bag of bagels in his arms. I can’t see his face because of his hood but I can see the little wave he gives me as we step down the street. I sip my coffee and keep going. But I’m really digging the morning so I keep up the little tap steps I learned as a kid. All along the guy behind me is keeping up, copying all the sounds I make with my feet. I decide to add a little shuffle to the sound. So does this guy behind me. Except he adds his steps in between my steps. He’s better than me but it feels great we have a routine going. Great sound coming from the sidewalk. Anybody looking out their brownstone window is going to get a show. I decide to add some arms to my routine and I step out, coffee in one hand and bagel in the other, swinging around. I expect to see this guy but alls I see is a the back of this person holding the bag of bagels out at arms length. Tapping backwards. He’s matching every step I take. Pretty soon we are dancing down the street, the sidewalk moving under us like some concrete belt conveyor. Just some old a Fred Astair movie playing out for real. I’m winded and warm. I stop and turn to meet this guy and say hello. You know, introduce myself. But he’s already walking off down another street. He waves the bag of bagels at me without turning around. I’m slightly deflated that the show’s over. But the quiet is good. It fits right in too. I sip my coffee and smile. I start for home. Ya, it’s going to be a great day.
Jul 27, 2010
 To Liad, I would be interested to see more of your writing.
by: Joseph F.Mazzaferro

Would you be interested in sharing by you showing me more of your work and vice a versa?

My latest project is old school grant you Nick and Nora Charles or Sam Spade type of detective stories. J.F.M.

So far its 59 lines long. Started it last Fri-Sat plus have more lines in my journal to add to it.

The title Nick Murdck Private Eye.
Jul 26, 2010
 Joseph F. Mazzaferro Thanks
by: Liad

Hey thank you very much for your comments.
Now I read the things you wrote. I really like your writing tone. It draws you into the action :)
Nice to meet you too.
Jul 24, 2010
 Liad I noticed we are simular in style.
by: Joseph F. Mazzaferro

(An example of my work)

10.
Several of us decided to run to go into town to get help. But it was already too late. It was on our trail, we were being picked off one by one.
11.
As I was running through the woods my heart was pounding in my chest, the fear kept the adrenalin high in me.
12.
Some creature a dark figure was on my trail breathing down my neck stalking me growling at me. I was too scared to look back to see what it was.
13.
I felled its teeth sink deep into my shoulder I yelled out in pain as I fallen over the cliff into the water below. This saved my life.

(Nice to meet you Liam)
Jul 24, 2010
 The longest walk home by Liad
by: Joseph F. Mazzaferro

I like your action and how you show the scene to your reader. A pub a character thats a little tipsy.
Jul 24, 2010
 The longest walk home
by: Liad

The pub closed, I said godbye to my friends and headed home. I was rather drousy so I decided to make a short-cut home through an alley. The alley was rather dark and silent and it took me a whole minute to get used to the dark. I started walking in the dark hearing nothing but the silent wind. So I walked when suddenly I heard a soft foot step tapping behind me. My heart started pumping fast and my senses immediately sharpened. I stopped my walked and turned around slowly.
There was nothing there. I attributed the imagined sound to my being a little tipsy, and I continued my walk. Surely, after another minute walk I started hearing the foot steps behind me again. This time I didn't mind them I carried on walking. However, I still heard the footsteps behind me. My heart started throbbing and I rushed my pace. Now, the foot steps started echoing in the dark alley. I started to run and through the wind whistling in my ears I could still hear the measured tread of the foot steps.
Still running I turned around and saw nothing at all. Turning, I just saw a wall in front of me crashed into it and passed out. Waking up in the alley in the early morning I could only find a red rose lying next to me.
Jul 20, 2010
 @ Martha
by:

Really rich, vivid writing! Thanks for sharing this.
Jul 19, 2010
 Lesson 1 Writing
by: Martha

My shortcut home from campus this evening took me down a backwoods road. The stretch ahead had been dressed earlier in the week with asphalt and thankfully the obnoxious fumes of coal tar had dissipated. The road crews had not striped the stretch so the freshly dressed asphalt presented a black, soft, smooth surface under my shoes. Tall oak, locust and poplar stands crowded the road's edge on both sides; their branches reached across, creating a living awning that murmured and rustled quietly with the wind.
My pace quickened as I approached the old Randolph homestead. Abandoned three years ago, the woods had started taking over the Civil War era structure; the undergrowth was steadily choking the remnants of flower and garden beds. In bright light, the structure looked forlorn and desperate and in the low light took on an ominous presence. The old barn was home to a colony of bats and they flitted and swirled in the air over the road, snatching mosquitoes and gnats. The wind started picking up and two interlocked branches screeched displeasure while the pine boughs whistled and whispered disapproval at my intrusion.
As I started up the hill towards the ridge, the last shards of light gave way to a velvety darkness which enveloped all within my sight. There were no sodium lights, no stars, no moonlight, no fireflies to offer comfort and assurance. No crickets or locusts punctuated the heavy air. The two farmyards in the final stretch were black and silent in their watch over the woods giving way to the resting fields.
Suddenly I realized I was no longer alone for I heard the scraping of footsteps approaching me from behind. I broke into a quick trot and the steps matched my cadence. Panicking, I broke into a run and when my burning lungs and muscles finally won, I looked back over my shoulder to see a nonchalant jogger's glowing shirt fading out of sight.
Jul 19, 2010
 I am confused (Hi Nancy).
by: Joseph F. Mazzaferro

I beleave we have more then one @Joe in the group
for this reason I never know which one of us the message is addressed to for this reason you may want to concider for forwards to me or about my projects (USE) JFM or JOE M ?


There is no such thing as a silution with-out a problem only the reverse.



Joe M
Jul 15, 2010
 @ Victoria
by:

I like the way you establish suspense with the narrator's observation of details that are not as usual, the sense that something is off.

I also particularly like your observation about how fog softens sounds.

Thanks for sharing this.

Nancy
Jul 15, 2010
 @ Nat
by:

I really like how you took the 10-minute writing assignment into the realm of detective fiction.

The writing is fast-paced and dramatic. Great cliff-hanger at the end to make the reader turn the page...

Nancy
Jul 14, 2010
 Lesson 1
by: Victoria

I always liked taking my morning run in the fog. The dampness engulfing you, the softening of the sounds around you. As I got to the mid-point on the Monon Trail, the place where I usually slowed to a fast walk for about a half mile, the yellow tabby wasn’t there lurking in the bushes. She waiting for my approach to pouch to attack when shoestrings were loose, but not today. Nor were the birds welcoming the new day. Even the smell of the morning glories weren’t apparent. That was when I smelled the faint smell of cigarettes. Then the gentle thump of running shoes farther down the path. Someone had been in the bushes, smoking, waiting. Now they were following, getting nearer. The other runner was gaining, I quicken my pace and managed to remain ahead of the smoker. Now was the time to see just how fast I really was.
Jul 13, 2010
 Week 1 10 Minute Exercise
by: Nat at NEM Enterprises

The night is dark and dreary, having rained most of the day everything is wet. The air smells of the inner city: garbage, wet pavement, and sadness, so much sadness. I have been working the case for nearly three weeks now without a break or a lead that pans out to be more than a homeless man?s ramblings but I cannot and will not give up. The looks on the faces of the brother and sister that were taken away to children?s services following the discovery of their parents? murder haunts me every time I close my eyes. I have to solve this case and I have to stop this killer?before he ruins any more young lives.

I know I must be missing something. Every day I pore over the crime scene photos with their gory details of the husband and wife?s final struggle for survival. Their bedroom had been so scattered and covered in blood spatter it was difficult to determine how it could have once been a safe haven for lovers.

Tonight I had been following up on a lead from one of the local bartenders and had possibly had a few too many. In my zealousness to forget the case, yet entice the bartender to talk I had consumed enough rum and cokes to make me just a little tipsy. I stumbled down the back alley my head spinning, already anticipating the feeling of falling into my bed at the apartment. I was still 30 feet away from the end of the alley when I heard faint footsteps from behind me. I kept walking, but listened with heightened awareness to the high pitched clicking made by the occupant?s shoes. I quickened my pace in an attempt to make the end of the alley faster, yet I was stumbling quite a lot now and I could hear the methodical clicking getting nearer and nearer. I reached for my gun, but remembered that I had left my shoulder holster at the station so instead I whirled around to confront my would be assailant. But there was no one there. The alley was empty and dark, save for the one musty street lamp over the bar entrance at the far end. I chuckled to myself, thinking I must have allowed my inebriated brain to make up all of what I had heard. I turned to the street to wave down a taxi, when I thought I barely caught the outline of a dark figure to my immediate right. I heard the faint whistle of something large and blunt moving quickly through air and tried to cry out, but all went black before I could.

I awoke the next morning lying under a cardboard box lid a few yards down the street from the alley entrance. My head was pounding and I had a roaring in my ears that reminded me of the ocean from my childhood home on Laguna Beach. I sat up bleary eyed and looked around me, glancing disbelievingly at my hands I noticed a drop of blood. I then looked at my shirt and realized that scrawled across my chest and stomach in blood was a taunting note, ?Tag, you?re it.? I checked all over my body but could not find any wounds, meaning one thing. The killer had struck again, and this was his new victim?s blood.
Jul 13, 2010
 @ Joe
by:

I like your use of auditory details to increase our sense of the narrator's anxiety and isolation. And you succeeded in surprising me with the twist ending!

Thanks for sharing this.

Nancy
Jul 13, 2010
 This is my contribution, a great exercise
by: Joe

I walked into the street closing the door behind me. I looked up and down the street surprised how quiet it was, I felt strange that there wasn’t any traffic or people about. It was getting dark; the light in the narrow street was dim. I began my walk to the train station; my train was due to leave in fifteen minutes and had a bit of a way to walk so I needed to hurry.
With each stride my shoes on the concrete pavement, an echo would bounce from the buildings around me causing me slow down and conscious of my walking, so I began to take softer and slower steps to lessen the noise.
It was then I heard the other footsteps coming behind me. I stopped and they kept coming. It wasn’t my echo as they were more of a shuffle rather than a step. I began to panic; I had just bought an anniversary gift for my wife from the shop I just left. I now began to see myself being mugged and if I lingered too long I would miss the train, the last for the evening from this small country town. I hurried to the station my shoes making more noise. The footsteps behind were now coming faster and faster. I tried to see who was behind me and looking around but no one was in sight. It was getting darker and I could see the station up ahead.
I finally reached the railway station, a quick glance at the time, less than five minutes before my train left. I ran to the ticket window, paid for the ticket, and turned to go onto the platform and my train. Suddenly I was confronted by the person who had been chasing me.
The train’s whistle blew, it was ready to leave and standing before me, blocking my way, stood the elderly shopkeeper who sold me my wife’s gift. She stood to one side smiling and walked beside me handing me my credit card. I boarded the train as it began to leave and all I could do was wave and smile with my thanks.
Jul 11, 2010
 First Kiss
by: Anonymous

When we met, he reached out and took my hand. He touched with angelic gentleness. His smile radiated into me and I felt light. We only said, hi. I knew his voice from the phone. The wind blew my hair and I drew it back, a bit coy. I entered a dream state of some kind. We sat on a picnic table to talk. The breeze started a round of tree leaves in applause. I drank in those expresso, dark eyes, the Latin skin and black, flaxen hair that paralyzed with their captivation. My breath hiccuped. I suppressed a flutter. His snuggle made my head fall back, uncontrollably onto his arm and the niche at his neck just like Ingrid Bergman in Casablanca with Rick. When he kissed me it was like a sip of brandy going down, like Katie and I had tested form her dad’s bar. It burned my core. It was like that instant of satisfaction when I craved chocolate badly and finally had it melting on my tongue. When I opened my eyes, for a moment, I became a silly, willing slave to his handsome black eyes and white-toothed smile. For the first time, I understood why grownup women did stupid things where men were concerned. I was mush. I knew I would remember this moment for forever. Even when I got old, wrinkled and doddering, at the edge of death, I would think of Miguel’s body press and his lips on mine in the unforgettable breeze with the trees celebrating my next stage of life.
Jul 06, 2010
 The Rest
by: Joseph F. Mazzaferr0

4.

The next thing I do remember, I wake up, I hear loud sirens, and we are moving fast the flashing lights are flooding the streets. On my face is an oxygen mask, with several bags of liquids hanging down, the
Liquid coming through tubes into an intravenous needle stuck into my arm with tape holding it there.
I black out, I don’t remember what came next.

From my eyes came tears from the pain, it was mixing with the blood I was losing battle for my life.
The pain got more intense, I feel myself slipping away.

5.

The next thing I see is I am in the operating room floating over head, as I look down, I’m
Shocked by what I see and hear I see myself in the hospital bed.
I hear one of the doctor say pull the sheets up over his face I’m afraid he’s gone.

I hear a quire of angels and church bells ringing. The angels are singing when you walk through a storm.
I see you approaching me, “why did you leave me back there?” You look at me and say because it wasn’t your time yet.
I say, when I first saw you, you looked like I know you, have I ever seen you before? You said
Yes once when you were in the Army Hospital. You were under heavy sedation, you thought you were hallucinating, I came for the man in the next bed.


You never did tell me who you are? I hear you tell me that some call you the Grimm Reaper
While others call you the angel of death, you have come to take me to a better place.
All of a sudden from above its like a door open, I see a bright light, as you take my hand,
“You are going home”.


Through the bright light I see someone coming towards me, but I can’t make out who it is.

Finally, I see my Mom and Pop walking, with my dog Rusty, they tell me, we have come to take you home.


END.
Jul 06, 2010
 More of family re-union
by: Joseph F.Mazzaferro

Title: Family Reunion

Written By: Joseph F Mazzaferro.

While walking down the street, I see my tall thin scarecrow reflection in the store windows that I am passing.

I turn and see you, "Oh high there". "Let me introduce myself", "my name is Edgar Poe".

"Don't laugh",

"my Parents had this warped sense of humor when I was born they gave me the name".

"Being named after Edgar Allen Poe this did not make my life easy one not at all".

"Do you want to take a walk with me while I tell you my story?" "Lets talk", " I"m going to the Cemetery

To talk with my Parents". "Oh by the way my friends call me Raven".

2.

While walking down the street with my new friend, I see just what I am looking for a Starbucks. My mind was speeding ahead. I want to get the picture right inside my head. The caffeine will help, in my mind's eye I watched the last few drops drip into the pot. Needing my java fix, I walk in through the front door.

As I just walked in, after coming through the door I hear a loud bang, I look down at my chest, I Feel a burning sensation in my chest, my legs give out. Well, this was one situation I hadn't expected to find myself in. I am on the floor, I feel a hot liquid running down the front of my shirt, oh my god it's my own blood, As I lay there in a pool of my own blood, I was fading in and out. Between fantasy and reality. I see a figure running, he jumps over me and exits out the door.

3.

I see you come in. I hear you say you've been shot, I think I hear you call 911. Then I blacked out from the pain. I am losing a lot of blood.

When I wake up, you have disappeared. Way off in the distance I think I hear the sounds of sirens, very low and getting louder. All of a sudden people run in, I hear someone yell out call 911, I feel a sharp pain.

The siren is getting closer. I black out from the pain. A few seconds later I come to. EMS comes running in with a gurney and oxygen asking me if I can talk.

I try to but nothing that makes any sense is coming out of my mouth, I pass out.
Jul 06, 2010
 other projects
by: Joseph F. Mazzaferro

If you like what you were reading: Insanity,The Diary of a werewolf. Then let me introduce you to another one of my stories.

Titled; Family Re-Union, don't let the title throw you, its not as tamed as it sounds.

I like writing stories with the shock and Ah factor J.F.M.
Jul 05, 2010
 @ Robyn
by:

Very suspenseful! You have certainly ended with a cliffhanger, leaving me anxious to know what happens next.

Thanks for sharing this!
Jul 05, 2010
 @ Cheryle
by:

It's great to see how this story is developing. I'm curious to read on, to find out what happens next and to learn more about your narrator's situation.
Jul 05, 2010
 @ Joseph
by:

Thanks for sharing the ending of your story with us!
Jul 04, 2010
 Lesson One
by: Robyn

There I was. I promised Frank I would meet him. Why did he pick this creeping alley? Sighing I look down at my watch and see he’s five minutes late. Where is he?
I start pacing back and forth. My ears perk up. I hear footsteps coming. I turn around. “It’s about time.”
I’m talking to myself. There is no one there. How strange. I could have sworn I heard footsteps. I blame the alley I'm standing in. Of all the alley’s this one is known for being haunted or dangerous. No one survives the alley. Of course I don’t believe it.
It might be time to change my mind. I hear the sound of something hitting the ground softly. It comes one by one. I look for an exit or even a place to hide. In the dark all I can see is a dumpster. I open it to look inside. Do I dare risk climbing in? Thinking no, I better not. I hide next to it. Besides it gives me a better chance to run.
The soft sound is getting closer but it stops. Just to be safe, I stop breathing in order to keep from making any sound. Both of my feet are firmly on the ground and my hands are ready to push my body up. I hear all the tales of the alley in my head. A vampire haunts his prey here. The ghost of Mary Anne still walks down the alley.
I have no choice. I was looking down at the ground a second ago but now on the ground I see shoes with two very long legs. Taking a deep breathe I look up and can’t believe my eyes. I’ve heard they exist but never in my life would I ever imagine I see a male incubus. There is a first for everything and I hoped it wouldn’t be the last thing I ever saw. His hand reached out for me and I grabbed it.
Jul 04, 2010
 First edit-lesson 1
by: Cheryle

I stood on the stoop of a long abandoned hardware store. Its broken windows rattling as the violent howling wind forced its way in, then back out again like a backdraft.

From the shadows of the door way I watched to see if I'd been followed.

It must have been my imagination.

I could have sworn I was being followed. I was certain I had heard footsteps behind me on Beacon Street.

I drew in a long breath and leaned back against the cool brick. The wind whipped in and out of the door way. Its cold fingers clawing at me,in a game of cat and mouse. I brushed the hair back from my face, a futile attempt to stay the sting as the wind used it against me. I should have tied it back.

Storm clouds overhead eclipsed what little light the moon had offered and had it not been for the night vision my condition afforded me, I'd be blind in the blackness.

The street was empty, abandoned. Much like my soul these days. The wind kicked around an empty can, like a game of dodge ball, its players invisible.

Where is he? Damn it! Damn Vigratos! Lying, cheating, swindling b*st*rds! If that little weasel ran off with my money I'll....

Metal scraped against pavement, the sound as grating to the nerves as nails on a chalkboard. My ears twitched from side to side as I tried to determine the sounds direction. The alley! Someone or some thing was in the alley.

I froze, listening for the sound again. Yet the only thing my untrained ears heard was the pounding of my own pulse.

Wiping the sweat from my brow, I noticed the burning in my veins.

I gotta get a handle on this. I am not going to be much good to anybody if I can't control my own body!

I tried to swallow, only to find the passageway choked off by my heart (that is if you could call it a heart anymore), which was now in my throat.

I waited, for what seemed an eternity. Waiting for the thing in the shadows to show itself. Nothing.

Where the hell is Rice?

It started to rain and the bone in my left calf began to throb. It always did since the break six months ago. Healing had been slow and even now I limped.

Six months...., hard to believe Trejor's been gone that long. Ok, ok, pull yourself togther. Theres no time for "might have beens" now.

I pulled the hood of my robe over my head and looked anxiously up and down the street.

The rain was turning to sleet, the shards stinging like so many tiny daggers. I slipped my arms beneath the robe and pulled it tight around my chest, then lowered my head to keep my glowing eyes hidden beneath my hood, and stepped off the stoop.

Well, I made it this far on my own.

A dazzling white light lit up the sky, the crack of lightning followed and in the same instant my skull seared with pain as though it had been skewered. Lights out.
Jul 04, 2010
 My ending
by: Joseph F.Mazzaferro

51.
How the walkie talkies came into my possession is another story. In between the cycles of the full moons a hunter wondered into my cave. My instinct forced me to decide on a course of action for self preservation.

52.
I chained him to the cave walls, I provided him with food and water. He became company for me. I protected him from the beast that I had become during the cycle of the full moon by chaining myself up away from him protecting us both.

53.
Having someone to talk with a delightful experience. Eve’s attack ended that for me. It was Eve and her mother who discovered the cave and took the life of my only companion since my hospital days. Getting delight in her actions.

54.
On the night of the next full moon, somehow I managed to escape my shackles. I found myself wondering among the underbrush.
I woke up outside the gate of the brothers of the sacred order monastery. These monks a non-verbal order took me in.

55.
Providing me with food and shelter only locking me in during the full moon helping me find peace. I found it tranquil working with my hands in the soil giving me satisfaction of growing my own food with the side advantage of tasting the fine wine they produced.
Jul 04, 2010
 my 12 writing projects
by: Joseph F. Mazzaferro

Out of my twelve writing projects 80% of them I have written the endings first then the beginning.

Except the Insanity Diary of a werewolve.
I became afraid I would be stuck (Good news)
I have my ending.

Its un predictable. As you will get to know me better you will find I will write myself into a corner (the challenge) then write myself out.
Jul 04, 2010
 This is the beginning of the piece I have been working on.
by: Joseph F.Mazzaferro

Title: Insanity, the Diary of a werewolf

Written by, Joseph F. Mazzaferro
1.
What would you do if you found yourself in my shoes? I started writing my diary on the shale slate walls of this cave to tell everyone about my tormented soul, can you imagine my pain. How I became a werewolf in the first place. First let me give you this warning! Beware of the full moon.
2.
It was in the year of 1955. I had just turned twenty-one when a bunch of the guys decided to go on a hunting trip upstate New York. It was up in the Catskill Mountains near East Durham New York. Little did I know to my knowledge at that time I was going to be the prey hunted by some large diabolical evil wild animal?
3.
It was a full moon as we were sitting around the camp fire feeling safe and complacent under the full moon telling scary ghost stories after toasting marshmallows’. A bunch of guys just having fun.
4.
That’s when we heard a blood curdling growl and screams just off in the distance in the woods howling at the moon.
5.
A cold chill ran up and down our spines. What the hell is that was the general question we asked each other.
6.
When we realized Joe had gone off into the woods to answer natures call behind a tree and had not returned.
We figured Joe was playing some kind of a practical joke on us trying to scare the wits out of us and he was doing one hell of a job of it.
7.
When Joe screamed out a second time. I became pale, the lowed sounds of a growling beast in the forest, that’s when the dead silent’s followed.

8.
Two of our party went out with rifles in hand to search the woods for Joe and whatever the hell that was that made that blood curdling sound.
9.
Two shots rang out then the yelling and screaming for help, followed by the howling of a wolf at the moon.
Jul 03, 2010
 @ Joseph
by:

I like the dreamlike feeling of this piece, and the way you blur the line between delusion and reality. Whether your narrator is mentally ill or actually a werewolf, Lycanthropic Disorder is a fascinating phenomenon to explore in fiction.

Thanks for sharing your progress on this story!
Jul 03, 2010
 @ Lilly
by:

Thanks for sharing this, Lilly. I like the sense of urgency you create here and the unusual idea that being surrounded by trees could feel like being rocked to sleep.
Jul 02, 2010
 more progress on my story to report to you.
by: Joseph F. Mazzaferro

Title: Insanity, the Diary of a werewolf

Written by, Joseph F. Mazzaferro

14.
The next thing I remember. I woke up in the hospital. Since then several changes took place. The feeling of heightened senses, my sense of sight at night my eyes have become as an owls. My sense of sound. I had became able to hear a conversation over two hundred yards away and the smells off in the distance of food. Made me hungry.
15.
My nightmares have just begun they follow me on every full moon, I would dream and relived that night when all my friends were ripped apart and I was the only one who survived.
16.
I still feel its teeth sink deep into my shoulder before I tumble into the water. The pain shooting through my whole body. I am losing reality, slipping between the pages of fiction and fact.

17.
In the hospital in Albany, the doctors were surprised about just how quickly my wounds healed. The psychiatrist in the hospital said my condition was a Lycanthropic Disorder then explained;
Lycanthropic Disorder- is a mental condition in which the subject called a Lycanthropic believes that he or she is a werewolf. The subject does not actually change shape, but nevertheless capable of being as dangerous as an actual werewolf. Most cases of supposed werewolfy are really the works of Lycanthropic Disorder. He had me kept in a straight jacket. They must think I’m crazy. I don’t know what’s real or not anymore.
18.
They had me questioning my own sanity at the hospital. They say there is a fine line between genius and insanity. They told me I crossed that line a long time ago.
I started losing my humanity to the beast within, doomed to a life of torment. Something new has developed, because of my sensitivity to the moon light, on the night of the full moon I slept in the nude. One morning I woke up and discovered I had torn the straight jacket into pieces during the cycle of the full moon and escaped from the hospital.
Jul 02, 2010
 try one
by: Lilly

The light is dim blue outside. Even though the air is cold, my skin is clammy and warm. I've been rushing around trying to make-up the lost time while getting angry at myself for not being more organised. In a rush of thoughts, logic tells me to take the short cut.

I'm dehydrated, I can hear my heartbeat thunding loudly in my head and the echo of my footsteps is not helping.

As I turn the corner to start walking up the alley I calm for a momment. The alley is lined by trees, something about being surrounded by nature has an almost mothering effect. Like being rocked to sleep.

It's cold and I feel it. I can see my breath. As I do I realise that it wasn't my footsteps echoing down the empty streets. There's someone behind me. Their pace is just slightly slower than mine. What the hell do I do? If I look round, and there's someone there I'll have to run. What if they're faster?

I turn sharp into the churchyard and look up at the clock. 7.55. Five minutes to go, and I saw a figure in the corner of my eye.
Jul 02, 2010
 @ Cheryle
by:

This is very intriguing, with hints at a story beyond the frame of this one scene (the narrator's "condition" which gives him/her night vision and is perhaps related to his/her glowing eyes, the broken leg, Trejor's death...)

Thanks for sharing it!

Jul 02, 2010
 Lesson 1
by: Cheryle

I stood on the stoop of a long abandoned hardware store. It broken windows rattling as the violent howling wind forced its way in, then was sucked back out again like a backdraft.

I brushed the hair back from my face, a futile attempt to stay the wind from using it against me. I should have tied it back.

The storm clouds overhead blocked the moonlight like an eclipse. Had it not been for the night vision my condition afforded me, I'd be blind in the blackness.

The street was empty, abandoned. Much like my soul these days. The wind kicked around an empty can, like a game of dodge ball, its players invisible.

"Where is he? Damn it! Damn Vigratos! Lying, cheating, swindling b*st*rds! If that little weasel ran off with my money I'll...."

My ears pricked. Someone, or something was in the alley. Metal scraped against pavement like nails on a chalkboard. I froze, heart in my throat(that is if you could call it a heart anymore). It seemed I waited there for an eternity, waiting for the thing in the shadows to show itself. Nothing.

I am going to have to do this myself I guess. Its three miles to the end of the street, to freedom. There are no other options, I have to get out of the district tonight! It started to rain and the bone in my left calf began to throb. It always did since the break six months ago. Healing had been slow and even now I limped. Six months, hard to believe Trejor's been gone that long. No time for that now. Glancing up and down the street, keeping my glowing eyes hidden beneath my hood, I stepped off the stoop. I heard what I thought was the crack of lightning and my skull seared with pain as though it had been skewered. Lights out.

Jul 02, 2010
 In a writing project I have been working on I used this technique.
by: Joseph F. Mazzaferro

10.
Several of us decided to run to go into town to get help. But it was already too late. It was on our trail, we were being picked off one by one.
11.
As I was running through the woods my heart was pounding in my chest, the fear kept the adrenalin high in me.
12.
Some creature a dark figure was on my trail breathing down my neck stalking me growling at me. I was too scared to look back to see what it was.
13.
I felled its teeth sink deep into my shoulder I yelled out in pain as I fallen over the cliff into the water below. This saved my life.
(The title of my work is Insanity diary of a werewolf)
Jul 01, 2010
 @ Lizz
by:

You do a great job here of creating a creepy atmosphere. I like the way the narrator can hear but not see the stalker, as if he/she is playing a cat-and-mouse game, keeping just out of sight. I would keep reading to find out what happens!
Jul 01, 2010
 Lesson 1
by: Lizz

Taking the shortcut through Bartlett Street was probably not the best idea I ever had. Not a sole around other than the dead possum flattened like a carpet in the middle of the street. I rubbed the smell of faint decay from my nose and increased my pace. Most of the houses were either boarded up or vandalized. A few stray cars—most missing tires—lined the north side of the street. I took a deep breath wondering why I hadn’t taken a taxi and then rubbed my arms, which were now covered in goose bumps.

The wind rustled the trees above, as well as creating a part on the wrong side of my head. As I attempted to put my hair in its rightful place a faint scraping sound came from behind, like a shoe scraping over a pebble. I turned and thought I spotted a shadow slip behind one of the abandoned houses.

I walked a few more cautious steps, my senses on high alert. Then, I heard it again—quiet footsteps. I quickened my pace to that of my racing heart. I turned once more and my eyes fell on nothing. I kept moving forward. My fast pace then melded into a run and the quiet steps behind me also quickened.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I came to a stop, took a deep breath, and turned to lay my eyes on my stalker. There was nothing behind me once again. I looked left, then right. No one. “Who’s there? What do you want from me?”
Jul 01, 2010
 @ Tokytoker
by:

Thanks for sharing this piece. Some nice details of setting: the sound of the train, the wind blowing the trash in the street...
Jul 01, 2010
 sound and light quake.
by: TOKYTOKER

AS I STEPPED OUT @ ABOUT 11.45PM,IF NOT FOR D FACT DAT I KNOW WE ARE IN SUMMER,IT WUZ LIKE ALL D SNOWS IN D CLOUD WAS GOING TO FALL TONIGHT.THE GREAT WINDS,BLOWING EVERYTHING AROUND,PAPERS,PLASTIC DISPOSABLES,ACCOPANYING DIS WAS D SOUNDS DAT FOLLOWED,FROM NOWHERE I SAW D BEAM OF A LONG DISTANT LIGHT POINTED TOWARDS D DIRECTION I WUZ HEADING.IF IT WUZ WIDER I WLD HAVE TAKE IT FOR DAT OF A CAR,BUT RATHER IT LOOKS SO SLIM,WAIT A MINUTE!I STOPPED WHAT OR WHO COULD DIS BE?,JUST AS I WUZ STILL LOST THERE CAME A SECOND DISTRACTION,D SOUND FROM D TRAIN passing from d rail directly above d millwall stadium heading towards bermondsey station.as if am not done the third scene came ,now dis is close,i can see itz from a touch held by a tall heavily built man,all dressed in black with a winter jacket in summer and d face covered by a dark screened sun glasses at'night.on his second hand was a walking stick,though he looks very fit & agile and should be in his thirties,his skin colour perfectly blends with his costume,all i wuz doing wuz stirring------oh! d alarm his up,am in lesson 1.thank God is not 4 real
Jul 01, 2010
 @ Charles
by:

Thanks for sharing this. I like the way you used almost all of the senses in this piece, describing the physical appearance of the woman, the smell of her perfume, the temperature of the air...
Jun 30, 2010
 Lesson 1: Share
by: Charles

I turn around and see a female face framed by long hair with small flowers tied into braids. She smiles and her green eyes are looking directly at me. She is walking at a faster than comfortable pace and passes me. She is wearing an orange soft cotton top over a pleated cotton dress. The air is cold yet she is lightly dressed. I smell a sweet odor of a citrus perfume as she walks past wrapped in her cocoon of eternal warm spring air seemingly unaware of the bite of the cold wind. Her shoes click on the cobble stoned sidewalk. With her left hand she adjusts an artificial flower stuck into her hair over her left ear. I hear her humming a soft song to herself as she strides along in her purposeful gait.
Jun 29, 2010
 "I was humming as I walked..."
by: Anonymous

I'm intrigued to find out what happens next. I hope you continue with this piece and that you share more of it in the Salon.
Jun 28, 2010
 My 10-minute writing for Lesson 1
by: Anonymous

I was humming as I walked, the song from some commercial, so I don't know how long the boy was behind me before I became aware of the faint crunch of his footsteps.

I turned, and he froze in his tracks, just stood there staring at me. He might have been eleven or twelve years old, with pale hair that looked silvery under the street lamp. Something about his face -- the hard apples of his cheeks -- seemed familiar, although I didn't identify the resemblance until later.

Turning back around, I resumed walking, and I heard his footsteps keeping pace behind me. I walked faster, and his footsteps seemed to speed up. I was being paranoid, I told myself. I decided to cut across the street to get rid of him, but when I started across, he was right behind me. His shadow slanted in front of me and merged with mine, then shrank back as we approached the line of parked cars. I had that prickly feeling that I get sometimes in dreams right before the whole scene transforms into something else.

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