Tag: writing classes

I’m going to try to keep this brief. I feel like I should write up a post, though, especially since so many of my friends have been. Two weeks ago I had a crazy, surreal experience. I’ve been a part of an online writing community for about three years...

“Play something for me, Ella,” I say, my hands resting on my guitar and my eyes on her face. “Please.” Her eyes dart to the piano, uneasy. I know what she’ll say, because I’ve asked her this question every day for five years now. She’ll say no. The music...

Desperation can make people do some very silly things. Now, his mother had warned him. She had told him not to do it. Jack should have listened! If he had listened, then he would never be where he is now… in danger of being a giant’s lunch! Oh Jack,  you...

A faithful reader of mine told me that she had been checking my blog every day in hopes of a new post. That’s one of the reasons I’m writing this now. I don’t know what I’m going to write about tonight. I’m going to start typing and see what...

Five whole days is too long to spend in the company of a crabby old lady. Especially if the crabby old lady is your Great Aunt Hildegarde, and you are expected to behave decently to her.  For five entire days, these were the rules that Emery was expected to...

Based on a true story… sort of. As Emery sat in her bed contemplating the unfairness of broken bones, her father walked in with a steaming mug.  “How’s my patient?” he asked, handing her the mug. She sniffed it, then took a sip. Hot chocolate– the good kind. With...

“Why don’t we just wait until mom gets back from the store?” Emery asked, staring at her father with her eyebrows raised. “I am positive that it will be easier if we wait for her to get back.” Her father finished tying his apron around his waist and looked...

Based off of Esther chapter seven. “My Queen,” asked Xerxes, “what is it? What is your request—anything; even up to half of my kingdom is yours, if you ask for it. Anything.” Xerxes sipped his wine, leaning back on his pillow comfortably.  Haman sniffed from his seat, watching us...

“How much longer?” Emery asked for the fifteenth time. Mom looked at her in the mirror.  “Soon,” she said with a smile.  Emery bounced in her seat with joyous anticipation. After nine years of living in small-town Indiana, nine years of wondering, she was finally going to see the...

“Matthew,” Mom said, walking into my bedroom one day. Behind her stood my dad and my sister Lucy. They all wore shy, excited smiles. Lucy had her hands clasped and she kept discreetly wiping her eyes and sniffing.   “What’s going on?” I asked, standing up.  “We…” Mom paused...