chu_totoro (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
chu_totoro) wrote2006-09-21 10:09 pm
chu_totoro) wrote2006-09-21 10:09 pm
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Poem #1, Animal, Sutton, base off The Eagle
THE CAT
She peers down through the frosty firs;
the milk, the man, the house, all hers.
Eyes slitlike from a yawn, she purrs.
A flurry, then a whoosh of wings;
up snaps her head, her branchlet swings.
With sleek and silent poise, she springs.
Journal activity in Peck's backyard #3 (9/20/06)
I guess
I will write you a letter,
Today. Because the prompt
asked me to.
You know,
I adore you. The alarm
clock shrills, I smash it silent;
next time I yawn, stretch, wake,
only to find
an extra hour! ah, Wednesdays.
The English class collapses in laughter,
the orchestra geeks
bounce in their chairs...
and of course, there is
Poetry, here.
English assign-- scary story rough draft
Nightmare
She sprinted down the hall, her heart hammering every step at her throat. The people, the people, they were everywhere, no matter where she turned. Her mouth was utterly dry from panting, and she tried to swallow, to help, but she couldn’t muster that little bit of saliva and then it was just worse, the dryness cutting into her throat as she gulped, so that she was seized with a strangling spasm of choking, and could only swallow again, hard, her eyes watering, then again, and again, and again again again again and coughing, half-gagging, she ran blindly on. For she couldn’t stop. The moment she stopped, they would get her. Half-crazed fear drove her on and on, overriding all else in the desperate need for survival.
The place... whether it was a hospital or office she couldn’t say. Sometimes it had the white tiles and walls and men seemingly in white lab coats, but at other times she thought she saw men behind desks, shuffling papers and typing into computer consoles. People were walking about, moving around like they were perfectly normal, only they were not. Maybe they looked like a duck and walked like a duck and quacked like a duck, but it didn’t change the fact that they. were. NOT. She was the only one that didn’t belong, the only one that they would be after.
She rounded a sharp bend, screamed as she came face to face with a smiling man in a business suit. The smile dropped from his face even as she whirled, froze into the unnatural, rigid grin of a circus clown, and the icy fingers reached out to her with superhuman speed. She took a flying leap, and the hairs on her neck stood up as the hand swiped, missed by a hair’s breadth; choking with half-formed tears, she fled down the other end of the hallway.
Rustles, shuffling footsteps, swishes of fabric against fabric echoing behind. Without looking she knew that the rest of the people were converging, knew that the seated were no longer in their spots, were closing in behind her. She focused ahead, realized a dead end, despaired. But as she approached, the elevator doors buzzed open and she stumbled inside, panting and staggering as the doors slid smoothly shut behind her.
A pause, then a faint whirring hum as the elevator began its descent. She let out a breath.
Just inside stood a blonde girl. She vaguely recalled that they had arrived together, though not how, but in any case she wasn’t one of them. It was safe, for the time being.
The blonde was fairly short, plump, and stood in red-white-and-blue uniform, mindlessly chewing her nails. She raised her eyes slightly at the intrusion of the newcomer, then went back to work on her frizzed up nails. Abruptly she burst out,
“Hey, you have any idea when the meet today is?”
She blinked. And all of a sudden, with a chilling certainty, she knew that they were both going to die here. Just saw it, a horrible clarity, how she’ll run and run and run for as long as she can, evade and dodge and dart and trick until she dropped, until her body couldn’t take it anymore, and then they’ll have her because she would not, could not escape this nightmare building. So she told her. Said to her, “We’re going to die here today.”
The blonde frowned. “I don’t think so. Why?”
Before she could answer, the elevator doors slid open and she saw all the people outside, around, seeking her, and as the elevator dinged they all turned their heads, saw her, and then the terror seized her again and she slammed herself against the gigantic white buttons, jammed the whole weight of her body onto door-close as if it could help, willed with all her heart for it to close, close, close before they could get there. Her eyes burned again and she thought she tasted salt in her mouth, and all the while she was half-babbling, talking incoherently, trying to explain to the blonde the monsters outside, as the figures came nearer and nearer by the second and the doors eased together at a painfully slow rate. She shoved harder, her hand smashing the imprint of the button onto her palm, and then she felt a pair of arms around her throat.
Without looking she knew it was the blonde, and before she had time to think, before she had time to process and realize and remember in a flash that she had come alone, alone, that there couldn’t possibly be a Cross Country meet in this accursed building, that nothing made sense and everything made sense, the arms tightened and she died.
...anyone can guess what THAT was based on. haha but rather altered...
wtf 1-2 page length way too short for any decent sized story.
whee I love my English assignments. fractured fairytale next! I really want to type up this story we read in class, diff version of Red Riding Hood, v. v. v. funny, but later.
THE CAT
She peers down through the frosty firs;
the milk, the man, the house, all hers.
Eyes slitlike from a yawn, she purrs.
A flurry, then a whoosh of wings;
up snaps her head, her branchlet swings.
With sleek and silent poise, she springs.
Journal activity in Peck's backyard #3 (9/20/06)
I guess
I will write you a letter,
Today. Because the prompt
asked me to.
You know,
I adore you. The alarm
clock shrills, I smash it silent;
next time I yawn, stretch, wake,
only to find
an extra hour! ah, Wednesdays.
The English class collapses in laughter,
the orchestra geeks
bounce in their chairs...
and of course, there is
Poetry, here.
English assign-- scary story rough draft
Nightmare
She sprinted down the hall, her heart hammering every step at her throat. The people, the people, they were everywhere, no matter where she turned. Her mouth was utterly dry from panting, and she tried to swallow, to help, but she couldn’t muster that little bit of saliva and then it was just worse, the dryness cutting into her throat as she gulped, so that she was seized with a strangling spasm of choking, and could only swallow again, hard, her eyes watering, then again, and again, and again again again again and coughing, half-gagging, she ran blindly on. For she couldn’t stop. The moment she stopped, they would get her. Half-crazed fear drove her on and on, overriding all else in the desperate need for survival.
The place... whether it was a hospital or office she couldn’t say. Sometimes it had the white tiles and walls and men seemingly in white lab coats, but at other times she thought she saw men behind desks, shuffling papers and typing into computer consoles. People were walking about, moving around like they were perfectly normal, only they were not. Maybe they looked like a duck and walked like a duck and quacked like a duck, but it didn’t change the fact that they. were. NOT. She was the only one that didn’t belong, the only one that they would be after.
She rounded a sharp bend, screamed as she came face to face with a smiling man in a business suit. The smile dropped from his face even as she whirled, froze into the unnatural, rigid grin of a circus clown, and the icy fingers reached out to her with superhuman speed. She took a flying leap, and the hairs on her neck stood up as the hand swiped, missed by a hair’s breadth; choking with half-formed tears, she fled down the other end of the hallway.
Rustles, shuffling footsteps, swishes of fabric against fabric echoing behind. Without looking she knew that the rest of the people were converging, knew that the seated were no longer in their spots, were closing in behind her. She focused ahead, realized a dead end, despaired. But as she approached, the elevator doors buzzed open and she stumbled inside, panting and staggering as the doors slid smoothly shut behind her.
A pause, then a faint whirring hum as the elevator began its descent. She let out a breath.
Just inside stood a blonde girl. She vaguely recalled that they had arrived together, though not how, but in any case she wasn’t one of them. It was safe, for the time being.
The blonde was fairly short, plump, and stood in red-white-and-blue uniform, mindlessly chewing her nails. She raised her eyes slightly at the intrusion of the newcomer, then went back to work on her frizzed up nails. Abruptly she burst out,
“Hey, you have any idea when the meet today is?”
She blinked. And all of a sudden, with a chilling certainty, she knew that they were both going to die here. Just saw it, a horrible clarity, how she’ll run and run and run for as long as she can, evade and dodge and dart and trick until she dropped, until her body couldn’t take it anymore, and then they’ll have her because she would not, could not escape this nightmare building. So she told her. Said to her, “We’re going to die here today.”
The blonde frowned. “I don’t think so. Why?”
Before she could answer, the elevator doors slid open and she saw all the people outside, around, seeking her, and as the elevator dinged they all turned their heads, saw her, and then the terror seized her again and she slammed herself against the gigantic white buttons, jammed the whole weight of her body onto door-close as if it could help, willed with all her heart for it to close, close, close before they could get there. Her eyes burned again and she thought she tasted salt in her mouth, and all the while she was half-babbling, talking incoherently, trying to explain to the blonde the monsters outside, as the figures came nearer and nearer by the second and the doors eased together at a painfully slow rate. She shoved harder, her hand smashing the imprint of the button onto her palm, and then she felt a pair of arms around her throat.
Without looking she knew it was the blonde, and before she had time to think, before she had time to process and realize and remember in a flash that she had come alone, alone, that there couldn’t possibly be a Cross Country meet in this accursed building, that nothing made sense and everything made sense, the arms tightened and she died.
...anyone can guess what THAT was based on. haha but rather altered...
wtf 1-2 page length way too short for any decent sized story.
whee I love my English assignments. fractured fairytale next! I really want to type up this story we read in class, diff version of Red Riding Hood, v. v. v. funny, but later.