A short story I'm escritura for escritura Club at High School:
He couldn't take it anymore. The anger was welling up inside him, filling his veins and pulsing to his brain a dark poison impossible to cure. He lost all hope.
Everyone picked on him; for the clothes he wore, the people he hung out with, his hair style. So what if he wore black skinny jeans and snake bite piercings? So what if he had jet black hair that covered one of his eyes? How about the música he listened to; what was all wrong with that?
The one person he thought had loved him had turned against him. She dicho that he wasn't good enough. She didn't like his style o the sound of his voice. She didn't want anything to do with him, anymore.
Several times he thought the sharp blade of a cuchillo would take all of his problems away. But, as he pierced the sensitive skin on his wrists, he only felt más pain and sickness. There was only one thing he could do, now....
Standing over the vast expanses he thought he had called home, he spat at the air. You never cared for me! tu only treated me with wrong! Why am I even here?
He walked closer to the edge, closing his eyes. The violent winds whipped across his face, probably forcing him to step back. But, will power and state of mind made him hold his ground. He will not last another segundo in this dark world.
He raised his arms out, letting all his weight be supported por the balls of his feet. He felt wobbly at first, until he pushed out adelante, hacia adelante a little more.
Faster than anything he had ever imagine, he felt something coarse throughout his body; a powerful force that sent his hair flying away from his face and his baggy chaqueta and skinny jeans quiver. He didn't dare to open his eyes, for he knew what he was plummeting in:
Air....
Now, it's your job to figure out what the título is... :D hoped tu liked my depressing story.
He couldn't take it anymore. The anger was welling up inside him, filling his veins and pulsing to his brain a dark poison impossible to cure. He lost all hope.
Everyone picked on him; for the clothes he wore, the people he hung out with, his hair style. So what if he wore black skinny jeans and snake bite piercings? So what if he had jet black hair that covered one of his eyes? How about the música he listened to; what was all wrong with that?
The one person he thought had loved him had turned against him. She dicho that he wasn't good enough. She didn't like his style o the sound of his voice. She didn't want anything to do with him, anymore.
Several times he thought the sharp blade of a cuchillo would take all of his problems away. But, as he pierced the sensitive skin on his wrists, he only felt más pain and sickness. There was only one thing he could do, now....
Standing over the vast expanses he thought he had called home, he spat at the air. You never cared for me! tu only treated me with wrong! Why am I even here?
He walked closer to the edge, closing his eyes. The violent winds whipped across his face, probably forcing him to step back. But, will power and state of mind made him hold his ground. He will not last another segundo in this dark world.
He raised his arms out, letting all his weight be supported por the balls of his feet. He felt wobbly at first, until he pushed out adelante, hacia adelante a little more.
Faster than anything he had ever imagine, he felt something coarse throughout his body; a powerful force that sent his hair flying away from his face and his baggy chaqueta and skinny jeans quiver. He didn't dare to open his eyes, for he knew what he was plummeting in:
Air....
Now, it's your job to figure out what the título is... :D hoped tu liked my depressing story.
Never did I think that the person I was to face would be the beginning of a war I never wanted to get involved in.
This is a peom I wrote for a competition at my school. Tell me what tu think of it, please?
__________________________________________________
Have tu felt the torture of hate?
Like a poisonous cloud, it will wait,
Until tu burn in the flames of fury.
Then it will creep up and incapacitate.
Alas! tu will choke, and don’t try to deny your anger.
It is too late.
Hate is like grasping a red hot coal,
Intent on throwing it at another soul,
Instead it is you, yourself, who burns,
Then your own anger shall take its toll,
You’ll bring about your every mistake and failure.
You’ll be alone.
__________________________________________________
Have tu felt the torture of hate?
Like a poisonous cloud, it will wait,
Until tu burn in the flames of fury.
Then it will creep up and incapacitate.
Alas! tu will choke, and don’t try to deny your anger.
It is too late.
Hate is like grasping a red hot coal,
Intent on throwing it at another soul,
Instead it is you, yourself, who burns,
Then your own anger shall take its toll,
You’ll bring about your every mistake and failure.
You’ll be alone.
