Creative writing 3

                

                She took a quick look behind her, she saw nothing. She could still hear the blood-curdling screeches of the monsters behind. She kept running, there was no turning back now, she thought of the man she had seen getting mauled. All she could think about was the fact that she could be next. Not thinking she accidentally tripped while not watching where she was going. She scrambled to get to her feet, thinking the monsters were right behind her. She had dropped her flashlight when she fell and the glass had cracked. She couldn’t see clearly now because all that was coming from her flashlight was a few slivers of light. She tried to make out her path ahead but she accidentally turned down a side alley. She kept running without looking back when suddenly she came to a dead stop. She started to feel sick to her stomach when she saw the mangled body of the man she had seen earlier. No one would have been able to make out his face, it was so badly mangled, but she did for sure. She couldn’t stop staring at him when suddenly, a group of the monsters emerged from behind a trash can where they were scavenging for food. They caught a quick glance of her and they were on the attack. She knew that these were her final moments. She tried her best to escape but they had closed off all possible exits. The monsters moved closer and finally attacked. The body of Mary Goldfish has not yet been discovered.

          Creative writing #2

             Mark Jacobs was just a boy living in the town of L.A. His 17^th birthday had just passed and he was finally feeling like a grown up. His shoulders had broadened, and he had finally hit his last growth spurt. ‘Mark hurry up! You’re going to be late for school!’ his mom yelled down the stairs. In a panic he quickly put on his favourite t-shirt and a pair of kaki’s, brushed his teeth and fixed his brown hair. He raced up the stairs and missing breakfast for the second time this week, he jumped into his black ford focus. As he drove away he heard the sad yelps of his dog John. On his way to school he passed the 7-11 where he worked part time. Dreading working he turned his head and cringed at the thought. He was almost at the end of his junior year and all he could hope for was for it to end so he could do his two favourite things during the summer, hockey and golf. He pulled into the school parking lot and parked in his parking space number 231. Getting out of his car he saw his best friend Bob and he said that they had a substitute for first period English. ‘Thank goodness I’m exhausted’. He replied in relief. The two boys walked together to class and what awaited them was another long day of boring teachers and cramped hands from all the note writing.

 

My Bedroom

          When you first walk into the fortress that I call my bedroom, your eyes quickly adjusted to the softness of the mocha brown walls. You start to feel sleepy from the warmth so you look and see my bed with black sheets soft like a sheep’s wool.  On your way to the bed you feel the soft carpet massaging your feet as you walk. You lie down and see the wooden wardrobe in front of the bed. To the right you notice the family pictures and book in the eggshell white bookshelf. You start to yawn and shut your eyes to the quite sounds of my sisters TV down the hallway. The smell of fresh laundry is pulling you deeper into your slumber but the piercing smell of dirty gym clothes is dancing around in the back of your head like a stink demon. Now in my bed where you lie, dreaming of all the sugar plum pie. When you wake to a breakfast of eggs, you feel a rush of happiness through your legs.