Bliss Clark
New member
Which is your favorite, which would you want more of?
•1) The night my father committed suicide was the worst night of my life. The only thing his note implicated was that it was my fault. I remember the salty taste of tears, as they ran down my cheek. Recalling the night I barged in yelling, and how suddenly whatever I had on my mind, didn’t matter. The crimson-red blood dripped from his forehead as time froze. I recollect the way he tried to gasp, before the final mumble, “This is all your damn fault, Summer.” My chest collapsed, leaving me heaving. The blood tricked down my fingers as I ran my fingers through his hair, sobbing.
•2) I zipped shut my book bag, wiping the beady sweat off of my forehead with the back of my palm. Slipping on my coat, I quietly unbolted the window and slid it open. I bit my lip, eyeing the cement pavement, “Crap.” I slung my bag onto my shoulder, hurdling out the window and feeling my muscles tense as I hit the asphalt. I lay there for a minute, feeling excruciating pain run down my spine. I rose from the floor, squinting towards the window. I took one look towards the road ahead of me, took a self-assured step into the first day of the rest of my life. No looking back.
•3) “Lauren!” I heard a muffled bellow come from outside. I immediately set down my glass until the table as I picked up rapidity and raced towards the origin of where the screams were coming from. Before my eyes were a group of boys huddled around my frail brother as I saw a gleam of a knife in the hand of a boy. A piercing scream startled me as the knife was punctured into his stomach. The guys scattered, as I raced towards my brother unable to breathe. Hunter’s deep red blood shed from his wound as it trickled onto my hand. It felt warm against the icy cold temperature. “Help!” I shrieked. “Somebody help!”
•4) I hurdled the last of the suitcases into the Lexus, hoping not to stop myself from going. This is the only way to see your father, I told myself, in order to calm my nerves. “Are you ready?” Screeched Alice. “Yeah,” I jumped into the car. As we began moving the breeze pushed back my blonde hair as I blinked against the scorching sun. I let out an apprehensive sigh. In order to find my father, who walked out on me when I was 2, I had to search for him in Florida. This road trip was my only option. My mother would be up soon and panicked over my disappearance. I bit my lip and looked out into the deserted roads around us, hoping that this wasn’t a mistake.
•5) A sincere smile spread across my plump lips as I watched George point at letters in a book. “G-G-G,” he stammered. I slid into the seat next to him, scanning the book to find where he left off. “Garden. Say it after me, Garden,” I repeated, watching him hopefully. “Gaden,” he spoke softly, a sly grin creeping over his face. “Garden,” I spoke loudly, buoyantly. I saw the twinkle in his eye, a sense of satisfaction. I patted his back, “Good job, keep reading honey.” My brother has dyslexia and it’s hard sometimes, but I know someday he’ll understand. My parents don’t think so; they gave up on him entirely when he reached the age of nine. I won’t want to give up on George.
•6) "That concert was so much fun!” I squealed to Damian, a grin plastered across my porcelain face. “I know,” he chuckled. Damian was my older brother and always snuck me to do insane things my parents disapproved of. I smiled and looked over to him, as the bright headlights of a truck came into my view. My brother turned to me, smiling. “Damian, watch out!” But I was too late. The truck smashed against the small car, shifting the entire vehicle onto its side. I managed a scream as I felt my brother hold my hand, giving me a light squeeze of reassurance. A jolt brought my head to the dashboard, leaving my vision to be blurred as I was indulged in darkness. I awoke in a hospital to see machines beeping around me. My mom was sitting on the edge of my bed, her eyes framed with redness, as she sobbed, staring at a picture of Damian. I knew exactly what was going on. He was gone. Sometimes I wish it was me, and not him. As time slowly passes I forget the sound of his voice, or his laugh. He was the only one who brought me joy and without him I wasn’t whole.
•7) “It’s all my fault,” I sobbed, ripping the newspaper to shreds. I threw my phone against the wall, screaming and pulling at the ends of my hair. “I could have saved her damn life,” I yelled at myself; feeling my mascara run down my cheeks. Emily just needed someone to talk to, but I was too damn tired to pay attention to her. Now she’s dead, and I can never talk to her again. I ran my hand through my rough hair, pulling my hair through the knots.
•1) The night my father committed suicide was the worst night of my life. The only thing his note implicated was that it was my fault. I remember the salty taste of tears, as they ran down my cheek. Recalling the night I barged in yelling, and how suddenly whatever I had on my mind, didn’t matter. The crimson-red blood dripped from his forehead as time froze. I recollect the way he tried to gasp, before the final mumble, “This is all your damn fault, Summer.” My chest collapsed, leaving me heaving. The blood tricked down my fingers as I ran my fingers through his hair, sobbing.
•2) I zipped shut my book bag, wiping the beady sweat off of my forehead with the back of my palm. Slipping on my coat, I quietly unbolted the window and slid it open. I bit my lip, eyeing the cement pavement, “Crap.” I slung my bag onto my shoulder, hurdling out the window and feeling my muscles tense as I hit the asphalt. I lay there for a minute, feeling excruciating pain run down my spine. I rose from the floor, squinting towards the window. I took one look towards the road ahead of me, took a self-assured step into the first day of the rest of my life. No looking back.
•3) “Lauren!” I heard a muffled bellow come from outside. I immediately set down my glass until the table as I picked up rapidity and raced towards the origin of where the screams were coming from. Before my eyes were a group of boys huddled around my frail brother as I saw a gleam of a knife in the hand of a boy. A piercing scream startled me as the knife was punctured into his stomach. The guys scattered, as I raced towards my brother unable to breathe. Hunter’s deep red blood shed from his wound as it trickled onto my hand. It felt warm against the icy cold temperature. “Help!” I shrieked. “Somebody help!”
•4) I hurdled the last of the suitcases into the Lexus, hoping not to stop myself from going. This is the only way to see your father, I told myself, in order to calm my nerves. “Are you ready?” Screeched Alice. “Yeah,” I jumped into the car. As we began moving the breeze pushed back my blonde hair as I blinked against the scorching sun. I let out an apprehensive sigh. In order to find my father, who walked out on me when I was 2, I had to search for him in Florida. This road trip was my only option. My mother would be up soon and panicked over my disappearance. I bit my lip and looked out into the deserted roads around us, hoping that this wasn’t a mistake.
•5) A sincere smile spread across my plump lips as I watched George point at letters in a book. “G-G-G,” he stammered. I slid into the seat next to him, scanning the book to find where he left off. “Garden. Say it after me, Garden,” I repeated, watching him hopefully. “Gaden,” he spoke softly, a sly grin creeping over his face. “Garden,” I spoke loudly, buoyantly. I saw the twinkle in his eye, a sense of satisfaction. I patted his back, “Good job, keep reading honey.” My brother has dyslexia and it’s hard sometimes, but I know someday he’ll understand. My parents don’t think so; they gave up on him entirely when he reached the age of nine. I won’t want to give up on George.
•6) "That concert was so much fun!” I squealed to Damian, a grin plastered across my porcelain face. “I know,” he chuckled. Damian was my older brother and always snuck me to do insane things my parents disapproved of. I smiled and looked over to him, as the bright headlights of a truck came into my view. My brother turned to me, smiling. “Damian, watch out!” But I was too late. The truck smashed against the small car, shifting the entire vehicle onto its side. I managed a scream as I felt my brother hold my hand, giving me a light squeeze of reassurance. A jolt brought my head to the dashboard, leaving my vision to be blurred as I was indulged in darkness. I awoke in a hospital to see machines beeping around me. My mom was sitting on the edge of my bed, her eyes framed with redness, as she sobbed, staring at a picture of Damian. I knew exactly what was going on. He was gone. Sometimes I wish it was me, and not him. As time slowly passes I forget the sound of his voice, or his laugh. He was the only one who brought me joy and without him I wasn’t whole.
•7) “It’s all my fault,” I sobbed, ripping the newspaper to shreds. I threw my phone against the wall, screaming and pulling at the ends of my hair. “I could have saved her damn life,” I yelled at myself; feeling my mascara run down my cheeks. Emily just needed someone to talk to, but I was too damn tired to pay attention to her. Now she’s dead, and I can never talk to her again. I ran my hand through my rough hair, pulling my hair through the knots.