018. I Am

A color-prompt workshop quickwrite; exploring stream-of-consciousness.


Pictures24
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A blinding white light flashes, washing out my face. Where am I? All I can remember is a group of people dressed in lab coats dragging me around in a stretcher. As I look at my arm, blood was gushing out of it. But I can’t feel pain. I turn to my side and see more blood. What the ?! is happening? As I stood up, deciding to explore the building, I discover tons of medical equipment – tubes and wires pouring out from bleeping machines. The place was so bright, white, clean, and busy. Yet inside me, I felt so blue. Everything about the place made me feel cold and gloomy. Everything, from the pale tired nurses to the lifeless scenery, seemed to scream depression. All I can see from left to right felt sad. What made me feel worse was the smell of death in the air. Why does this place even exist? To make people depressed and crazy out of their minds? ‘Cause that’s what this place looks like to me. I know I’m in a hospital, but doesn’t that mean doctors and nurses should tend to me since I’m obviously a patient here? I decided to go back where I came from. The next thing that happened shock the life out of me, literally. What I saw was a mangled body of a girl who looked like me, except for the enormous bullet hole on her arm. I felt sickness starting to grow from the pit of my stomach. But that was impossible, dead people don’t feel sick. And I am.

– L, 13

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017. Being a Fan

(images from the net)
(images from the net)

Life seems unfair
No one knows what will happen
No one can understand how you feel
Only those who can relate to your situation

Seeing them happy bring smiles on your lips
Even though they don’t know that you exist
Even though you can’t understand what they say
Even though they are just your dream

Encouraging words make you determined
Knowing that someone has the same feeling
Knowing that someone has the same goal
Knowing all that gives you hope

But, knowing that you’ll never be with them
Knowing that you will never meet them in the future
Uhh…No
You believe that there is a possibility that you can be with them
You believe that you will meet them
Because you know that nothing is impossible
You know that you are persistent
You know that God has a better plan for you
And you believe that
Even though you’re just a fan

– Fangirl_Abbigail, 12

016. BLUE (a vignette)

A 15-year old puts together images in this draft vignette, which initially started as a quick workshop activity on the color blue.  

(image from the net)
(image from the net)

It’s cloudy, and the light breeze of winter is sweeping through the town. The chimes clink softly in the air and an aromatic scent of coffee greets her as she pushes the door open. She removes her ear muffs as she sits by the hazy glass window. Lately she felt unhappy after her moronic lover broke up with her in a 27 second phone call. Brewed Blues. That coffee shop had five people this morning. Two tables away from her sat an old man reading a newspaper with a cup of coffee in his hand.

Everything felt uncomfortable. Losing someone you were attached to for a long time is just so sad. Wow, perfect timing. Ideal weather, ideal place and ideal strangers to have around. In Brewed Blues, she found she fit with everyone, feeling down. Feeling gloomy, rejected, unhappy. She felt really awful; she was feeling blue. Another one’s crying by himself by the corner with his hands covering his whole red face. A conclusion came to her mind that the people around her might have something terrible going on with their lives. She thought she was one of them.

The place, Brewed Blues, played woeful music from the radio by the counter. She looked out the hazy window, saw a busy street, looked up and saw dull cloudy sky. “Someday, someone out there will take away the loneliness I’m feeling, and gladly put back the beam on my face.” She said smiling to herself as she watched the busy street. She sipped from her tea, got out of her chair and wore her ear muffs back.

– Alexa, 15


015. (untitled)

kk

Right.
Everyone expects someone to fit in
Everyone wants everybody to be just like them
Because everyone fears being different
Being isolated
And that’s how the world becomes monotone
Boring.
Everything’s the same
Because nobody wants to be an anomaly
An aberration to society
No one wants to be alone
Sad.
How disappointing
Is this how humans were meant to be?
Acting like a machine following an algorithm
Programmed to behave a certain way

Wrong.
Humans can never be machines
We were given freedom
We were given souls
Choice.
And it takes a brave soul to choose change
To choose being an anomaly
In this monotone society
Someone who is willing to experience hardships
In order to bring color to the world
You.

– KK, 15

010. (some thoughts on life and writing)

(image from the net)
(image from the net)

Being a writer is being boisterous. It’s more fun than you can imagine. You can have a whole new adventure. Many people may say that being a writer is boring. They may be right, or maybe they’re wrong.

A writer’s adventure can be dangerous yet fun. But as children, we are taught with rules — like not to talk to strangers, not to run in streets, and not to play with fire. But as we get older, always staying safe may prevent us from all what life has to offer. If you never take risks, you never get a chance to have it all. And what’s the fun in that?

While you want to feel safe, you should feel safe; but as a writer, you should run into the Danger instead of away from it. Always staying safe may not be so good, for a writer.

Life can be hard. But for other people, children really, the world is a fairy tale. Where there are big shops for fairy costumes and cowboy hats in the mall. But when we get older, always waking up to reality can be hurtful. In a way that you will know that your inspiration isn’t true. It can harm you and that can turn out as depression.

But it doesn’t mean that believing in fairy tales is a bad influence for children. Fairy tales can be inspiration or the joy of young boys and girls. The whole world has its own way of changing you. It doesn’t tarnish you, or bring out the wicked or the beast in you. It changes you naturally as a person or a child. But what’s important in the real world is seeing the truth or waking up to reality.

– Tim, 13

009. (a reverse poem on love and money)

loveormoney
(image from the net)

In our generation now
Love does not exist
I would never admit that
Love
Is more important than
Money
How could anyone think that
Your life won’t be complete
Without love
And always believe that
Love is just a weakness
Don’t ever think
Love is a relief to all your problems
And for the future generations
Wealth is what you need
I won’t consider that
Just wealth and power
Will destroy our lives
Because I don’t think that
Love does exist

Love does exist
Because I don’t think that
Will destroy our lives
Just wealth and power
I won’t consider that
Wealth is what you need
And for the future generations
Love is a relief to all your problems
Don’t ever think
Love is just a weakness
And always believe that
Without love
Your life won’t be complete
How could anyone think that
Money
Is more important than
Love
I would never admit that
Love does not exist
In our generation now

– Kyra, 13