Q U I T T I N G::. Write to win~ TONS OF FREE PETS!!

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[Muttz]

Bump

[JunJou Romantica]

~ Bumpiness `~
Please send if you will to: hohohotherocker
not here D:
And heres a lil part of my story....
"I held the key to the world once. It was on a cloudy, yet foggy day. The creature crashed down on earth, and i was the only one to see it. It was in a glass container, and it suddenly opened with steam coming out of it. The black figure rose to it's feet, and i tried to see what it could be, but, a green flash and a yelp of: CHAOS--....but that was all. The next day i came, the container wasn't there, nor the creature. It might as well must be someone from mars, or one of Jupiter planets. But we humans already been there, done that in space. Now, what could that have been?"

[Muttz]

Well all I really want are your dogs they are so cute and fluffy looking,I love the way they look,they are cute and friendly little pups. I will take care of them and would keep them in my group dogs,I would never ever let them go,I don't care if I have so many extras,they would Rome and be safe and sound playing with the others dogs and having fun.i would dress them up,and pretend that they are little babies.i would guard them for life and protect them from anybody offering for them.If someone offers for them I will say no because a special someone gave them to me.I will look through them everyday and foe people who offer for them.

[Rhett-Chee]

Hehehe...I'll do some creative writing...about creative writing. ^_^

"Words, as a whole, are comprised of dreams, and fantasies. They take us to faraway places, embody rainbows of color, allow us to feel love, think despair, and taste victory. The creativity of mankind is a cataclysmic example of imagination at its finest, a proper kick to the ol' brain-box. Creativity runs off of the fuel of our subconscious, tapping into our desires and fears, culminating in a grandiose climax of innovation and inspiration. At times, creativity can be stoppered by a cork, blocked by our worries, or other tasks we have to do. Yes, creativity as a whole is as fluid as water, and just as easily corrupted. Despite the blockage it may face, just as water trickles through the tightest cupped hands, so does our childish innocence trickle through the barriers of growing up. Every now and then, as we grow, we may see a firefly and want to chase it. We may look up at the sky, wanting to count the stars. Those little bursts of chasing the impossible are our creative prisoners, begging to be set free by art or words.


A picture may be worth a thousand words, but a thousand words can make an infinite number of pictures. Each time we read something, we see it differently. Like turning the wheel of a kaleidoscope, our mental pictures morph and collide, never forming the same picture twice, even if you are reading the same words. The colors that our eyes can see by reading the writings of imagination are beyond any spectrum they can see in a portrait. The tears we shed, while either writing or reading the imagination's fount, can be looked through again, like crystal mirrors, where we can see our own lives refracted in new and sometimes terrifying ways.

To be creative is to be alive. To be alive is to have a heartbeat. The heartbeat of life is ingenuity and creativity."

[Freeze The Fox]

Here's a part of a story of mine.


Cold gray walls. Lights flooding the darkness. Rapid footsteps barely audible over the barrage of raised voices. This is what the girl saw and heard as she was running for her life.

As she ran, she reflected on the prospect. If she was caught, chances were that they wouldn’t kill her, but she’d be good as dead anyway. She would be at their mercy. A shiver went down her spine. They had none.

The girl turned into the next hallway. She allowed herself to feel just a little relief as the double-doored exit came into view. It was almost a good thing that she had been found out near the start of her mission. If it had happened when she was farther inside, she would’ve been caught for sure.

But even now, there was no guarantee that she’d make it out.

Sprinting, the girl drew closer to the exit. The voices had died down, replaced by the drumbeat of footfalls. She could no longer tell how close her pursuers were, and as threw the doors open, she only cared that she seemed to have a decent lead.

As she burst out into the chilly night air, a bright flash filled her view. Her vision obscured, the girl swerved to avoid where it had come from. She heard different footsteps now. Softer on grass than on the hard floor. But closer, she realized with panic. Much too close.

A hand seized her by the hair.

A yelp of pain escaped her lips. She twisted, blindly striking out with her left fist. Her captor merely grabbed her wrist.

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere,” he said, his voice dangerously smooth.

The girl could hear the other footsteps getting louder, a countdown to her doom. Her eyes darted frantically, looking for a way of escape. Her eyes settled on something hanging from the man’s neck. She quickly looked away so he wouldn’t know that she had seen it. A camera. With the flash on, no doubt. If she could just-

The voices were back again, blending in with each other. Some of the anger had dropped. They knew that she had been caught.

In one desperate move, the girl grabbed the camera with her free hand, angled it up toward the man’s face, and pressed the button. Once again, a flash filled the night. The man cried out, and his grip tightened. Dropping the camera, the girl then swung her right fist at him and was rewarded with the impact of hitting his head. He grunted and, this time, his grip loosened. Instantly, she was off again, with only a few spots playing across her vision this time.

She heard the man grunt again, and quickly sidestepped him as he tried to tackle her. She picked up the pace. When the voices faded, she didn’t stop. Even when she felt she could go no further, she didn’t stop.

That had been way too close, the girl thought. She could only hope that she would be that lucky next time.

-

Shayla had always heard that it was one of the hardest things in the world to begin. She fully disagreed with that; right now, the hardest thing for her was to end what she had started.

The girl slowly turned a 360, her head darting back and forth, searching the woods around her for any movement at all. There was none, and if it wasn’t for the birds chirping all around her, the scene would have been more than a little eerie. The sound of a twig snapping made her jump, and, hiding behind a tree, she was glad it wasn’t night.

Well, technically, she didn’t start it. It was Blake’s idea. Shayla had merely agreed to go along with it after he almost begged her to join. No, “beg” wasn’t the right word. Blake never begged. He had just asked her a couple times before she gave in, knowing that she didn’t have anything better to do.

Now that she thought about it, Shayla could think of other things she could’ve done if she hadn’t joined his game. She could’ve gone home and worked on her schoolwork. Or she could’ve watched her backyard to see the squirrels burying their nuts for the winter. And what about-

“Gotcha!” Someone fell from the trees above her and slapped his hand on her shoulder. Taken by complete surprise, Shayla screamed and staggered back. The roots of the tree she was hiding behind found their way behind her feet, and she fell backwards, landing hard on her bottom.

The triumphant look on Blake’s face turned to one of genuine concern as he held out his hand to her. “Gosh, sorry, Shayla,” he said. “Didn’t mean to scare you like that. You okay?”

“I’m more or less fine,” she replied, taking his hand. With her friend’s help, she got back on her feet. “I told you I’m no good at things like this,” she said, sighing.

“You? Not good? No way!” Blake said, trying to sound encouraging. “I couldn’t find you for a full five minutes! That’s a new record, isn’t it?”

Shayla’s frown deepened. She tucked a curly lock of black hair behind her ear. The game they had been playing was like a more intense game of hide and seek. The object was to keep yourself hidden while trying to find the other person as well. She had played it once before and failed almost just as badly. That was the reason why she had insisted before that she didn’t want to do it.

Seeing that his word of encouragement didn’t help much, Blake shook his head. “Well, um…” He fumbled for what to say next. “Do you want to play something else, or…” He left the sentence unfinished and open to her suggestions.

Shayla took a few deep breaths and looked at the tree tops. “I should really be getting home,” she said absentmindedly. “I really should get started on my homework before the day ends.” In truth, she wasn’t up for any more games, but she didn’t feel like telling Blake that right now. She just wanted another excuse, and homework seemed like a good candidate.

“Alright, then,” Blake replied, running his hand over his spiky, unkempt blond hair. “I guess I’ll be heading home as well.” He turned around and walked away. Shayla followed close behind, knowing that he was far more coordinated in these woods than she was.

Before she knew it, they stepped out into the blaring sunlight. Shayla squinted at the brightness, and soon felt her nose itch. She tried to hold it in, but the inevitable sneeze came out unpermitted. “Bless you,” Blake said, and Shayla nodded her thanks. She was about to start heading back to her house when she saw her.

Lydia was there, in her house across the street, watching them from the window. She had a look of intense thought, as well as a scowl that darkened her face. She seemed to be looking directly at them. Shayla blinked. Had she been watching them this whole time? No, there was no possible way to see through all those trees. Besides, there was no reason for Lydia to be interested in their little game of double hide and seek. Shayla turned to Blake to see if he had noticed, and saw him glaring in the Lydia’s direction. Taken aback by the look of boiling hatred on his face, she looked back quickly at the other side of the road.

Blinds obscured the window where Lydia had once been.

-

Blake felt bad for not feeling bad.

Immediately, he grabbed the thought and strangled it. Why should I feel bad? He thought. I didn’t do anything wrong. He knew that was a lie, but he pushed any recognition of that as such aside. He mumbled a sort of good-bye to Shayla and stalked off in the direction of his house.

He and Lydia hadn’t always been on the best of terms. Blake remembered how she had taken advantage of him when he was little, deceiving him into letting her “borrow” one of his cool new games. He’d wait for months, expecting to get them back from her, but she would always say, “I think I lost it somewhere. Just give me a few days; I’ll find it.”

And he fell for it! Every stinking time he fell for it! Lydia never found the “lost” games, and he never got them back. It was after she had been “looking” for one of his lost things for over a year that he stopped asking her over and over to get it back. Blake had had it with her and her lies.

Sure, Lydia had said she was “sorry” and offered to give him back the games she had “found”, but Blake wouldn’t take them. Better to let her feel rotten for cheating someone younger than her out of his possessions. Besides, he didn’t want them anymore, not after her dirty hands had been all over them.

That was before her accident; before she was bound to a wheelchair.

Lydia said it was a rock climbing accident. A cable that was supposed to be fine turned out to be faulty and snapped. She was lucky to be alive. That’s what she told everyone.

Everyone but Blake. She never said anything to him about it.

Again, that feeling of guilt limped its way back. Blake stamped his foot angrily and took off running, treading the thought underfoot, crushing it with every footfall, snuffing the life out of it.

He left that thought dead beside the road.

[JunJou Romantica]

Another story i wrote

Leo quickly ran towards a hole in the tree. He called out, "Neon?" Suddenly, a soft whimper came form it, and then, he heard her voice. "In here Leo!"

Leo walked into the cave, still soaked from the rain. Neon smiled up, with her lit Amber eyes. "Right on time--as usual" she smiled. Leo flickered his tail, a purred against Neon's head, as she did also. Leo laid next to her softly, and the nudged there heads together softly.

"I'm sorry i couldn't bring any food back" he said, with soft eyes to her. She licked his ears, "Don't worry Leo, i wasn't that hungry." Her tail flickered, and Leo smiled and looked down.

3 kits emerged from her side, eyes opening. Mars--Amber eyes opening with his white fur--as Neon's. Venus, amber in her left eye, and blue in the other, with a black ear, right toes, back left toes, and the tip of the tail. And the runt of the pile, Star, with sparkling blue eyes, and the same coat pattern as her fathers: Black Ears, black tail, and black legs+paws.

Leo licked Star, and he rolled on his back as she climbed on his stomach. Lighting struck through the hole of the trees. Star jumped off of his stomach and raced towards Neon's side again. It began to rain more harder than before. "Dear, get some shut eye, you haven't slept for days." Le sighed, and nodded in agreement. He rested his head on his paws. He slowly, dazed, closed his eyes.

The morning came, still raining, but not as hard. Leo eyes fluttered as he opened them. He looked over, and saw Neon sleeping, calmly, sweetly--beautifully. He stretched upwards, and walked outside. His eyes widened, as he saw the 3 kits wrestling with each other-- without watch. He walked over to them, and they smiled up at his. Suddenly, a distance howl came through the area. The 3 kits raced back inside, as Leo carried Star.

Neon awoke finally, and Leo was finishing covering up the door hole with leaves. Leo looked over at her, and she nodded, and tucked the 3 kits under her tail like a blanket. "Mom, why can't we play more?" Mars said suddenly. "There are wolfs out there, and they might as well have you as a snack" she said, worried. Leo laid besides Neon, to comfort her. He wrapped his tail around her, and the family stayed close.

As the howling continued.

To get closer...

[Not me nope]

This is a pet I've been looking for since I have joined. <3

I don't write much, so I have had to make this up on the spot, I really hope you do like it. c:

Pain is one word,
Work is anouther,
But when you are earning,
working more than your mother,
you have no choice to feel used,
Pushed around and abused,
you are only thirteen,
have no real dream,
you pay for your food,
always in a mood,
no one can respect how much you work,
Untill you are g o n e.

I laughed at her sarcastic tone. Nothing I did was right to her. I was the foundation to our family, well, whether our household is a family or not is debatable. My 'mum' never even takes a glance in my direction when she asks for the washing, or anything for that matter. I don't ever see my dad anymore, not since he was taken away by some strange men who said he has some kind of mental issues. My two brothers are a right pain, they are always getting me into trouble. I just ignore them, they aren't even my real brothers, I'm sure of it and one day I shall prove it. But right now I was standing in front of my sister. My Identical twin sister. There was no way on earth I could persuade someone we weren't related. Our hair, clothes and facial expressions are always the same. I'd just politely asked her to take our washing down to mum. She said " of course " in her sarcastic tone, took the basket out of my room and just chucked them on the floor. What a suprise. Then chucked the basket back at me. It hurt.

Oops, one important thing I forgot to say is I'm more of a mother to my mum than she is to me. I'm the only one who works in our household, the only one who earns money to keep our family of five alive. I work everyday for at least nine hours every day to keep our family going. It's a poor amount for a family of five. I pay for and buy the food. I pay the bills. My birthday is in two days and I know for a fact no one has got me any presents. I'm turning Fourteen or thirteen, I can't even remember anymore I'm trying to keep up with everything, my sister won't turn off the light at night to save electricity, she'll just scream. She doesn't understand. She is the same age as me, but can never understand anything, we would take her to the doctors but it is miles away, and we can't aford the transport. There must be something wrong with her, my mum doesn't care. My two brothers are younger than me and often do little chores such as emptying the dishwasher, if I'm lucky. My mum will do the washing and make sure I get to work on time. I take my brothers to school, wash them when I can, pack their lunch and get them into bed. I don't go to school, I work instead in a stuffy old building carrying packages from one conveyor belt to anouther. What fun. I can't read or write, even though my sister attempts to show me how.

So, my life isn't great. I'm fed up and want to run away, they don't apprieciate what I do for them, so why should I care. I'm running away tonight. I had decided on the way home from work, just before it started raining onto the only shoes I have, a pair of cheap hand-me-down plimsols.
I posted £50.95 and a small blue letter through the door and ran away with the rest of the money I had. Which I counted up to be around £90 I guess. I'd saved up for a bit with this money. I began to walk, which way I was going is a complete mystery, as I rarely get to go out anywhere. I had no jumper, and it was freezing. I decided I would pop into the next clothes store and my some cheap clothes that would keep my dry or warm, depending on the weather. And I kept to what said and ended up buying a crap dressing gown from the sale, anouther pair of socks, and a raincoat. I was left with around £65 by the time I was back onto the path.

I was warm yet hungry and thirsty, I had managed to slip a scone or two into my plastic carrier bag. (I had my money in my pocket) I began nibbling on a scone, but my mouth was just screaming for a drink. I wondered if a spa or Tesco was close by and carried on walking up the paved path. I'm sure there'd be one soon.

Two days passed and by then I had drunk from the puddles of rain and ate both scones. It was 9:50am when I began walking again. I had taken a rest by a old sweetshop. It was closed of course, just as my luck goes.

Anouther Four hours went by and my stomach was growling and ripping my insides out. I was sure of it, the pain gave my stomach cramps. My mouth was too dry to speak and my walking pace slowed.

About five minutes later I found a Tesco. I quickly ran in with what strenght I had left, bought the water and began drinking. Soon enough I fainted in the biscuit isle, my head pounding and my vision becoming vague before it all went black.

I awoke to find myself in hospital. Just great I began thinking, before I noticed my 'mum'. I cryed. I couldn't help it. My sister was holding hands with my brothers, and there was someone leaning over me. I was fine in the end, nothing bad happened apart from a suttle scar on my head where I had fell against some bourbon buscuits on the metal rack. My mum was crying, I didn't know she cared at all. Soon enough we where offered help in our family funding. My sister was diagnosed with ADHD. Our family was pretty normal hence forth. Untill we got a little black dog for christmas, wrapped in blue roses. But that's anouther story.

^-^ I really hope it was good enough, we don't ever do creative writing in class.

[Asa Willow]

I'm writing a story right now, would you like to hear the first couple of chapters? It's about a girl with a cat that mostly lives alone, then she finds out her imagination can affect the things around her. She gets an imaginary pet because she's lonely and she can't take felix, her beloved cat, arond with her. Then se realizes that others can see, feel, and hear the cat, too. Whatever she imagines takes place :3 it's called Imagine for now, it's an obvious title and it'll fit until I get a better one. I hope you like!

here they are: Chapter 1
Heather sighed as the math teacher began to pass out the quizzes. Every Friday they had one. She looked down at the sheet of paper that contained a complex array of numbers and symbols that she, somehow, was supposed to solve in only the given ten minutes. Heather propped her head on her hand and wrote her name, taking care to add her signature loops and offshoots on each letter. She lazily retraced it as she thought about how to do the first problem. The only trouble was that math was so boring to her that every time she tried to grasp the problem in her brain, it slipped away. Heather bit her tongue and concentrated and that way she was able to trudge through the quiz with a couple of minutes left over.
Putting her pencil down and smiling inwardly, Heather reached under her desk and pulled out her favorite book, The Expert’s Guide to Feline Species Recognition. She opened it and scanned through the pictures, automatically skipping to the page that featured her own cat’s species, a Scottish fold. Heather read the paragraph about Scottish Folds, although she didn’t need to; she knew the whole section by heart. Heather snapped the book shut as the bell rang and went to turn in the quiz to Mr. Portis, the math teacher. He took her paper without a second glance and Heather turned away and headed to her locker.
As she opened her locker her friends, Haley and Samantha, came over, smiling. “How’d your quiz go, Heth?” Sam asked. “I got a ‘B’ on my History test.” Sam leaned against the locker next to Heather’s.
“I don’t know, and I told you I don’t want to be called ‘Heth’, is it really that hard to add another syllable?” Heather replied irritably.
“Jeez, someone’s being a grouch!” Sam chided. Haley gave her a look before speaking.
“I think I did horrible, I missed at least four questions in my math quiz…” She smiled. “Oh well, math is math, nobody likes it very much.”
“Agreed!” Said Heather and Sam simultaneously. Heather got her books out of her locker and shut it, starting towards the stairwell. “See you at science,” Haley called back at Sam as she and Heather made their way to their next class, Band practice. All the way Haley chattered about how the second trumpets weren’t doing their dynamics well enough, but Heather was hardly listening. She fingered the straps on her saxophone’s case as she hurried down the hallway.
By the time Heather and Haley made it into class the whole band was already about to start. Mr. Hark, a small bald man with a large white beard and piercing blue eyes, was standing on the conductor’s platform, his baton raised. “Please take your seats, Ms. Yolin and Ms. Dillary.” He said in his usual quiet and impatient voice. Heather slid in between rows of chairs and stands to the saxophone section where she sat in first chair, while Haley went to join the percussionists. They ran through their usual songs, always having to stop because the bassoonist forgot to play her key signature, or one of the clarinet players squeaked and the flute girls started giggling like mad.
Heather’s favorite class was band. It was the only time she could just relax and do one of the things she loved, playing her saxophone. She knew all of the scales and fingerings by heart and was one of the best players in the band. It annoyed her when a song was interrupted or they had to stop to tune, but when they started to play again Heather forgot all of her irritation and played to her heart’s content. The bell seemed to ring early, as usual, announcing the time when Heather’s little vacation ended and it was back to the other boring old classes.
By the end of the day, after six hours of class, Heather was exhausted. She, Sam, and Haley were picked up by Sam’s mother and they stayed at her house for a little, completing their excessive homework.
“It’s not fair, that we should have to do homework on the weekends!” Sam complained loudly. “I mean, it’s out free time and the dumb teachers are clogging it with a bunch of boring old essays and work sheets!” Heather said nothing. She actually enjoyed being able to immerse herself in a nice report, math might not be her suit but she was good at Language Arts and spent a lot of time reading and writing. Heather liked being able to engage in the assignments and not have to worry about what was happening at home. Mr. and Mrs. Marcelli, Sam’s parents, were very nice and let Heather come over whenever she needed to. Haley usually came over, too. She didn’t ever like to be left out of anything, or she would think that the others were teaming up against her and complain loudly the next day.
As soon as Heather and the other girls were done with their homework Sam’s mom made them a snack of celery and peanut butter. The three friends ate and chatted for a bit then Heather announced that it was about time to go home for the night. “Why don’t you stay overnight dear?” Mrs. Marcelli asked. She knew what a rough time Heather was having at home. “No, thank you. My cat will need feeding and he doesn’t like being left for too long or he’ll think that something’s happened.” Heather smiled. Mrs. Marcelli nodded, looking unsure. “Well then, you better get going, it’s almost dark.” She drove Heather to her apartment and with a quick farewell she drove off, leaving Heather standing in front of her run-down little tower. Her mother was very financially poor and she spent most of her time at work or on business trips, and her father was in the army in Iraq.
Heather entered the lobby, nodding politely as her neighbor greeted her. She climbed four flights of stairs, took out her keys, and after a few minutes of fiddling, pushed open the door. Her mom hadn’t gotten home yet and that meant that Heather had the whole place to herself. She was immediately greeted by her cat, Felix. Heather had gotten him when he was a kitten, off of the road when he was left behind by an owner that didn’t want him. He was a handsome young feline, a three-year-old silvery-grey Scottish Fold with a white belly and muzzle, and brilliant yellow eyes that reminded Heather of an owl. Felix’s ears, like all of his kind, were folded back on his intelligent round face. Felix’s bushy tail wound around Heather’s legs as he purred and nuzzled her with his muzzle. Heather laughed and bent down to pet Felix. She scratched him on the chin, just where he liked it, and the purring increased until Felix’s whole body was vibrating.
Heather sat down on a small patchy old couch and Felix followed her, still purring like a motor. Heather got The Expert’s Guide to Feline Species Recognition out and flipped through the pages. She came to the Scottish fold section. “Look Felix,” She said, holding up the picture of a Scottish Fold. “That’s you!” Felix just continued purring, not even giving the book a second glance. Heather smiled and started to flip through the pages again. One day, if her mother let her, she would get another cat. Heather loved the Bombay cats. “Felix, aren’t these just lovely?” Heather asked, holding out the book so he could see. Felix’s purring didn’t stop. Heather looked at the picture of the sleek, bright-eyed black cat. “Scottish Folds are amazing too, of course,” Heather said, reaching out to stroke Felix, who was now curled up against her.
Heather leapt up as the phone rang. The family used the same phone; Heather’s mom couldn’t afford to buy Heather her own cell phone. Heather picked the phone up. “Hello?” She said. Her mother’s voice came from the other end of the line. “Heather? I’m going on a business trip to Wyoming. You’re doing all right?” Heather’s mother’s voice sounded very harassed. “I’m fine, mom.” Heather said. “Ok I got to go,” came her mom’s voice. “Love you.” Heather said. “Love you too, honey.” Came the reply, then she hung up. Heather flopped back onto the couch next to Felix. “Hear that, Felix? We’re home alone for a week.” She said. Purr purr.





Chapter 2
The next day Heather woke up and slid off of the couch that she had slept on. She groggily rubbed her eyes and swayed like a drunk. Heather looked at the dusty little alarm clock next to her bed. It never worked and it was a few hours ahead, but she translated the time automatically from habit. It was six thirty in the morning. Heather’s eyes widened. Six thirty! Heather leapt up, feeling the dizziness of getting up to quickly. She raced to put on her clothes and hastily poured Felix some cat food, then sprang into the bathroom and ran a brush through her long silvery blond hair several times. Heather grabbed her backpack and her Saxophone and ran a block, arriving right when the bus turned the corner. Heather let a sigh of relief escape her.
The bus was crowded and noisy, as Heather’s stop was the last, but she spotted a classmate of hers, the second chair saxophonist, sitting alone. Heather slipped into the seat with the girl and they sat, having a chat about how expensive the reeds to their instruments were. By the time they had arrived at the school their conversation had run dry and Heather walked towards up to the front doors in silence. She found Sam waiting inside. “What happened to your face?” She asked as soon as she saw Heather. “You look like you’ve been taking drugs!” Heather yawned and rubbed her eye. “Wait, you haven’t been taking drugs, right?” Sam said jokingly. Heather allowed herself a small smile. “I almost missed the bus, I woke up really late.” She explained. “Tsk tsk,” Sam said, dragging Heather to the girl’s restroom. She fixed Heather’s hair a bit and, despite Heather’s complaints, dabbed makeup around her eyes. “There, now you don’t look so much like a zombie,” Sam said as she admired her handy work. Heather rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
The bell rang and Heather hurried to her next class, language arts. She came to a halt as Eloise Willerson, a short, plump seventh-grader, shoved her. “Watch it!” Heather snapped, collecting her books that had fallen. “Or what?” Eloise taunted, sneering. Heather seethed with anger. “Or I’ll make you!” Eloise snickered and turned to the group of girls behind her. “Ohh I’m sooo scared!” She said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. The girls behind her giggled. Heather stood up and narrowed her eyes. “Oh shut up, why don’t you just go drowned yourself in a toilet!” With that she whipped away, starting to run as the bell rang again, announcing class had started. Heather burst into the room, panting. Mrs. Teela scowled. “And what is your reason for being late, Ms. Dillary?” She asked tersely. “A large group of idiots,” mumbled Heather under her breath, taking her seat. “What was that?” Mrs. Teela asked. Heather grudgingly looked up to the tall young woman and lied, “locker got jammed…” Mrs. Teela glared at her, and Heather looked away. Mrs. Teela had a hawk-like appearance; a sharp nose and small bright eyes, with short, wavy brown hair and crow’s feet in the corners of her eyes. She seemed to stare right through people, and Heather felt pretty sure Mrs. Teela didn’t buy her story. The class turned in their mystery-themed stories and watched as Mrs. Teela began explaining what a hyperbole was. Heather began to doodle halfway through the lecture, first drawing a little head, with folded back ears and big round eyes. Then she drew the fluffy body and soft feet and legs and added the long bushy tail last. Heather absent-mindedly shaded in the cat in, leaving only the belly and muzzle white. She wished she had a yellow marker.
Once Heather got out of class she went over to Haley’s locker. Sam was already there, chatting animatedly. “Oh, hi Heather!” Haley said as Heather approached. We’re dissecting a frog in science today.” She pulled up a disgusted face that made Sam and Heather laugh. “How’d Language go?”
“Terrible. I got there late because of Eloise and her bunch of idiots,” Heather replied, her mood souring.
“Ugh, did you see that pimple on her nose?” Sam said, imitating Haley’s face.
“How could I not?” Heather said, starting to grin. She began to walk to her next class, accompanied by her friends. “It was only right smack in the middle, and about half an inch across!”
“What class do you guys have next?” Haley asked. “Science, right?”
“Yeah, unfortunately.” Sam said. “Ew, I’m going to have to spend all class staring at her pimple. It’s so big it seems to fill the entire room!”
Heather and Sam walked into class early. Haley was right, there was a box of frogs, hopping around and climbing over each other in attempt to escape. The lab tables were covered in arrays of sharp, cruel-looking utensils and a bunch of safety goggles. “Ok class, settle down!” Mrs. Augeston said as the class arrived. “Today we’ll be dissecting frogs!” At that statement the class erupted into protests and exclamations. Eloise, who was also in the class, looked like she was going to vomit. Heather didn’t feel too good either.


(ik it's really long and this post will most likely take a lot of space... >.<) and sorry, the indents and such don't show in this format..

[Cookiespot]

(A little part of a book i've been writing)

I walked in,the door shut behind me and let out a bam!A man with scars all over his face turned around he told me i had come to the right place,But i was just lost.I ran to the nearest exit but they where all locked.I ran and grabbed the nearest like weapon i could find (It wasn't very helpful since it was a butterknife)I tried to make use of it and tried to stab the man.By the time the knife could reach him he had dissapeared.I ran to an air vent i pulled it open and crawled in.I could here crawling behind me,I thought it was the echo coming from me..