AS I RUN ALONG A BED OF STONES
MY FEET ARE DAMP AND COLD
MY HAIR STREAMS OUT BEHIND ME
TINTED GREEN WITH OLD
I'VE BEEN HERE FOR MILLENIUMS
BUT I CAN'T QUITE PLACE THE FACT
HOW OH HOW I WAS MADE
IN THE LAND OF DRY AND DEAD
Balmacewen Writing Extension |
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THIS POEM IS JUST A LITTLE FUN RIDDLE, COMMENT WHAT YOU THINK IT IS BELOW
AS I RUN ALONG A BED OF STONES MY FEET ARE DAMP AND COLD MY HAIR STREAMS OUT BEHIND ME TINTED GREEN WITH OLD I'VE BEEN HERE FOR MILLENIUMS BUT I CAN'T QUITE PLACE THE FACT HOW OH HOW I WAS MADE IN THE LAND OF DRY AND DEAD
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I see the dust that it leaves
Just a whisp that runs past As the cheetah comes near I hear the thump of the paws The whoosh of the air As the cheetah comes near I see the gleam of eyes Shimmering gold As the cheetah comes near I start to worry I should probably go As the cheetah comes near I sprint away I fear for my life As the cheetah comes near The pencil quivers in my shaking hands, as my mind fills with thoughts on what another one of my wishes could be. A harsh cough rattles through my body, and my chest heaves as I strain to catch my breath. I think hard, I have always thought of being a body donor, but the thought of a funeral without a body sends a shiver down my spine.
I ponder the problem, and try to think of what my family would think. Dear Nola, cuddling the kids, whispers, “ it’s your life, do what you want”, then there’s boisterous young Sam, however, who has a deep frown, “but who will I play with? And if you get cut open, you won’t go anywhere that I will”. But the main opinion all comes down to one person. Darling Sarah, who just stares at me, her blue eyes wide behind her fawn hair “do it”, is all that comes out of her parted lips. I make my decision, and as the scratchy pencil skitters across the page, my tattoo almost seems to come to life, it almost seems to pulse. Thats it, the last thing that I want, the last wish on my will. Another rough cough racks through my body, and this time I gulp desperately for air, but my breath only comes in shallow gasps. My hands tremble, my eyes flash, my lips quiver. The room starts spinning, and I hear a distant beeping.My head feels wheightless, white swirls crawl into my vision, taking over all my senses. We step into the room. The first thing that I see is a skeleton, real bone, curved and smooth, the face barren and emotionless. I gasp, the room that we step into is as large as my house, but jam packed with models and pieces of body parts, we look around, fascinated by the amount of bodies that surround us. I gag a little, and imagine if I were one of the doctors, slicing through the meat and muscle, dissecting a human like they would dissect a frog. I feel queasy now when I look at the models. We walk around, and I stop when I see a strange looking lump encased in a glass-like box. I lean forward, and almost immediately jump back, it’s a limb of some sort, an arm, and a faded tattoo of a heart stands alone. the skin is peeled and ink swirls up the arm, To be continued... “Don’t touch that!”, snapped the butler, my fingers slid away from the polished wood regretfully. The only thing that the butler seemed to do was scold and snap at my every move. “Where are we going?” I asked, tugging at the rim of his drab grey suit, he slapped my fingers away,”you act like a child, so you will stay in a room for one” he growled, opening a simple door on the left of the corridor and gesturing in. When my eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, my breath caught in my throat. Dozens upon dozens of toys. There were tears in their bodies as long as my forearm, with stuffing spewing out, Their eyes were scratched and bubbled and even though they smiled, I thought about all the horrible things that they might have done. “I can’t stay here!”, I screamed at the butler, but he didn’t listen, “have fun”, he whispered. An icy finger scuttled up my spine. My mind clouded with dark thoughts, each one swirling and twisting it’s way to the front of my head. This place was perfect. So perfect that I would do my job this night, I already knew the layout of the whole house, my mother had engraved it in my brain. So I pulled out the cold metal gun from my suitcase and stuffed it into the nearest toy, a doll with large glassy eyes that stared into my soul and a dress of delicate linen, that doll’s dress was better than anything that I had ever owned, I thought resentfully. The thud of a door being slammed “Who did it?!”, screamed the butler in the maid’s room, I could hear his panicked cry through the thin wall, I grinned, “now that, was a job well done”, I whispered to myself. One of the maids voices piped up, “did what?”, she asked, clearly confused. “Well what do you think? The master and mistress are dead!” He wailed. They all started stuttering, like a group of disturbed chicken, “but how? how did they die?” pondered the same maid, but the butler was already out the door, a stuttering, infuriated mess. The next day, the butler handed me a white frilled apron of some sorts, I held it up in front of me. It was nothing like anything that I had ever worn, all my life I had only worn thick leather breeches and cloth shirts, and occasionally the berry-stained dress for those special occasions that i had absolutely hated. A silhouette
creeping close a muffled bark a goat hair rope tied to the throat of man's best friend Dragged behind a car on a tar road no mercy no feelings why would they do this to man's best friend A boiling pot a fiery spit this is what they do to man's best friend Howling screaming pain in their eyes loyalty gone how could they do this to man's best friend My 2015 writing goals are:
-To draw the readers in and make them enjoy what they are reading. -Use better vocabulary. -Give the characters in my stories personality and characteristics, so that they almost come to life. -Don't just leave the end, give it a proper finish. |
AuthorHeyah, my name is Izzy. I'm a fox ( and pizza :3) addict. most of my stories are a tad rough, not for the faint hearted. jk ArchivesCategories |