So, I’ve been doing a TON of writing for my Creative English class that I decided to take this year. Within three days of starting the class, I already feel at least three times more awesome about my writing, and four times more awesome about my mojo, but that’s completely class-unrelated.
Since I’m tired, and my fingers are tired, and everything is just tired, I thought I would talk a little bit, and then share with you a couple of pieces that I’ve written, and if you’re really nice, you could tell me what you think?
Okay, so we’re going nix on the stories of the Ren Faire, though I do talk about it every day, and I still have a bit of an accent. Let’s just say that it would have been everything I had hoped and dreamed for, had it not been for the fact that I was accompanying a shopaholic and all we did was go to store after store after store.
By the end of the day, my feet were sore and dragging, and my spirits would have been higher had I actually had the opportunity to flirt with the 5 (hundred) guys that had eyed me up and tried conversing with me. It’s whatever though, it was still a good time, and I got my fill of Beer Cheese soup in a Bread Bowl and Taco Bell (The Taco Bell on the way home, come on, what were you thinking? Ye old Taco Bell?)
I shall now proceed to make you gasp with awe at my ‘Pen is Mightier than Sword’ writing talents.
Prompt – Take this sentence and make it Show emotion through 1-6 paragraphs, not tell it. Don’t use the sentence in your writing. He was always there for me.
Years passed, we both aged, but he grew old. His breaths came in wheezes now, his eyes more dull than I had ever seen. One day, my mother called me. “David has fallen sick, and will be hospitalized. I’m afraid he doesn’t have much time left.” She forced out through tears. A week later, he was admitted to a hospital near to where I lived, on his request, so that I could see him. Our lives had taken over, and we hadn’t talked in months, but as soon as I gazed into his eyes, the connection we had sparked again. “Hey, Elsie.” Was all that he could choke out each day, but we communicated through looks and eyebrow raises, the way we used to. On the day he died, I was with him. He weakly smiled and winked, breathing out a few words. “Remember what I told you, okay?” Through gasping sobs, I managed to reply. “It’s going to be alright,” I whispered. “Angels are watching over you.”