You run into an empty classroom and slam the door shut behind you.
In one flick of your hand, the door is locked, and you slump against it in exhaustion.
You never thought you were going to be bullied, but now, you can’t deny that you are.
The group of heartless girls that were racing after you are now at the door, pounding it with their fists until it’s wooden frame rattles.
Your heart is thumping so loudly in your ears that you are unable to hear the ruthless school girls noises anymore.
Tears start to trickle down your red cheeks, and you start to feel hot and stuffy.
When you were enrolling in going to your present school, nobody told you that the school was packed full of rotten people like the ones still banging at the door.
Suddenly the loud racket stopped, and a raspy adult voice was coming from outside the door.
It was the principal!
You look up, your face stricken with fear, and the corners of your mouth lift slightly into an awkward half smile half grimace.
Maybe there was hope after all.
When love is in your heart, it fills you with a burning passion like no other.
When love is not there, everything is meaningless, like a shoe to a bird.
But when love is there, it comforts you like a warm hug on a cold night.
Love is not easily disturbed, if it is the truest kind of all.
In the mornings, when the early birds are starting to stir, golden rays of sunshine pour down all over the world.
Sunshine is a pleasure we can experience, knowing that it will always be there tomorrow.
Like a waterfall, it splashes all nature with life.
Strong, powerful streaks of sun light let the flowers bloom, animals live, food grow, pastures flourish, and most of all, let us as a world live.
Such glory can only be found in a flower.
From the smoothness of the petals to the sweet fragrance it wafts around it, surely flowers are the main joy of nature.
It’s stem a luscious emerald green, it’s petals an array of colour, and it’s sun yellow centre attracting bee’s by the dozen.
All the earths inhabitants take great pleasure in smelling the wonderful aroma of a flower.
Beauty is not so much outward than it is inward.
Someones face may look like a doll, but their personality may look like a witch.
Beauty isn’t lining people up and deciding who’s complexion is smoothest, it’s knowing that even if there is someone more outwardly beautiful than that person, it’s their personality that makes them truly beautiful.
When the music plays, it rushes to your head.
Round and round and round you go, your feet a blur of madness.
Your head is dizzy, and nothing can stop the thought of dancing.
The dance is a cacophony of taps, twirls, and arm flails.
All of a sudden, you stop.
Knees trembling, lip quivering, pale face, you flop to the floor, stone cold.
The shady man I had seen stalking my town each night was now in front of me.
His dark hair glinted in the moonlight, and his heavy cloak covered his agile body.
I stared into the black abyss of his stony eyes, and as I did, he chuckled, showing me his dagger like teeth.
As he had me in some sort of unknown trance, I could barley feel as his fangs punctured my neck, leaving two small wounds dripping with blood.
Barely knowing what I was doing, I reached around my neck and pulled out my crucifix, tearing the string from which it dangled on, and limply held it out.
The creature shrieked with terror, as its instincts told him to run.
He bolted out of the town streets, and I dropped to the cobblestone floor in sheer exhaustion.
After winter, when the frost on the cold grass is starting to melt, out comes the Spring queen.
Her copper coloured hair glinting in the sunlight, and her emerald eyes sparkling like jewels.
With one nod of her head, the water returns to liquid, and with a flick of her wrist, the weather becomes warm.
Her smile is so sweet, and her laugh so tinkly and soft that it could melt a snow man.
As she gently walks by, animals come out of hibernation, and start to follow her wherever she goes.
She can charm even the wildest animal, and can sing like the birds the self.
Her radiant beauty isn’t just outward, it is also inward.
The dress she wears is like a meringue, it is puffy and elegant, and it swishes in the breeze.
The Spring queen speaks with intelligence, and she has a calm presence.
No one ever saw a more graceful creature then the Spring Queen.
Every year, at my school, is a free dress day.
You can wear whatever you like.
I am not very keen on free dress day.
Every body else’s clothes are so “Cool”.
My clothes are different; while everyone else is wearing jeans, shorts, and hoodies, I wear skirts, stockings, and headbands.
Every year when its free dress day, at home, I feel confident with what I’m wearing; but when I get to school, and see all what all the other kids are wearing, I feel like curling up into a little ball and hiding away.
Now I am walking into my classroom, staring at all the children dressed like 21 year olds.
When class started, my teacher, Miss. Ripley, brought in a new girl.
Miss.Ripley told us that her name was Jasmine, and she came from a different town.
Jasmine looked different, to all the other girls.
She wore pink stockings, and a yellow polka dot skirt.
She has big green eyes, her hair is bundled up into two ponytails on either side of her head, and placed in her hair is a beautiful dark blue headband, with swirly decorations on it.
I can tell I already like Jasmine, she makes me smile with pleasure.
“Jasmine will sit next to Molly.” Announces Miss. Ripley.
When she says that Jasmine will be sitting next to me, I feel a tingle of excitement in my stomach.
As Jasmine walks towards her seat, the butterflies in my stomach start to sway more vigorously.
“Hello.” Whispers Jasmine to me, her bright eyes beaming.
Jasmine does not seem to mind that she doesn’t dress like all the other kids in the school.
“Hi.” I whisper back shyly.
“I like your skirt, it’s very nice.” She says, pointing to my floral patterned skirt.
I think she is being sarcastic, but when I look at her face, I relies she is not!
She is being honestly nice!
I decide I should compliment her back.
Normally I would struggle to compliment girls in my class, because I never like what they wear, but when I look at Jasmine, I want to say a bajillion things about her!
I like Jasmine, from the way she dresses, to the way her eyes glimmer, I think she is utterly beautiful.
“I like your headband.” I say, hoping she doesn’t think I’m weird.
“Thanks!” She says with a wide, happy grin.
We turn our attention to Miss. Ripley, who is naming French verbs, and I smile to myself.
I think I found a friend.
I have a hair bow, that makes my hair look fabulous.
This may sound confusing, but when I say it makes my hair fabulous, I don’t just mean it is a pretty bow, I mean that it DOES my hair FOR ME.
I just drop the bow on my head, and in a quick few movements, my hair is ready!
It is a very confusing thing, very useful.
Before I bought my bow, I could barely scrape my hair into a decent ponytail!
But now, thanks to my magical bow, I can do anything.
This week, my hair was flawless everyday.
On Monday I had a long braid, going down my back.
On Tuesday, my hair was swept up into a sleek ponytail, and my bangs were kept out of the way with my favourite glittery, rainbow headband.
And on Thursday, I sported a loose bun.
Whenever it’s Friday, I like to have my hair down, and hold up my bangs with a few of my butterfly hair clips.
Normally I wouldn’t wear hair clips while my hair is down, but I started to do it a few weeks ago, when my teacher, Miss. Humphrey said, “Jemima! You look like a criminal with those bangs shielding your eyes! Go get them out of your face, or you’ll be very sorry!”
Miss Humphrey is no fun.
She has no sense of humour, and more then anything she hates hair in people’s eyes.
It is 8:25 in the morning, and I’m supposed to be walking to school, but I have a problem.
When I finished doing my hair, I went to look in the mirror, I was ShOCKED.
My hair was messily scraped into a ponytail, just like I used to do them. This is really bad, I can’t go to school looking like this.
I have always had a problem with coffee.
There never seems to be a blend that is just right.
All of the ones I have tried are too creamy, to caramely, too bitter, the list goes on.
But one day, as I was bumbling around the supermarket, trying to remember my shopping list that I had stupidly left at home, I stumbled upon the last kind of a dark brown bag labeled ‘Ground Coffee, The Best Of The Best’.
At first it meant nothing to me, do you know how many times I’ve tasted crummy coffee that says it is the best in the world?
I don’t know why, but I decided that maybe I should give it a try, just to see if I liked it.
I trudged back home in the crisp air.
When I arrived at my small apartment, I shuffled my feet into my worn out slippers, and headed to the kitchen.
When I got to the kitchen, I clumsily made a cup of coffee, and poured it into my favourite pink ceramic mug.
I reached into my cookie jar, and pulled out a plump chocolate chip cookie.
Then I took the coffee and cookie, and sat down.
I lifted the mug to my mouth, and took a sip.
I have to say, it was INCREDIBLE!
It was a small sip, but in that small sip, there was an explosion of different tastes and flavours!
I stood up, my brain confused and happy.
Suddenly, my hands clutched the cup, and started to gulp it down like there was no one watching.
Actually, there was no one watching except for my cat, Lord Fluffy.
And ever since then, I’ve been having a mug of it every day.
When I came into the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee, I tipped the bag of grounds upside down, but nothing came out!
Again I shook the bag, but still nothing came out!
I looked into the bag, and saw to my horror, that their was no more coffee in the bag!
Still in my pyjamas, I dashed out of my apartment and ran to the supermarket.
When I got their, I was greeted by a young lady who worked at the cash register, but I had no time to chat.
I ran lighting fast to the coffee isle, and found the place were I had bought the coffee last time, but on closer inspection, I noticed a sign that said, ‘Out Of Stock! No More Suppliers! Gone Forever!’
I dropped to my knees and started balling right in the middle of the tile flooring.
My coffee was gone!
Only on wednesdays, at 8 o’clock in the evening, I see it.
Through my bedroom window, I see it flashing by, darting in and out of the bushes, with no reason why.
It has large horny antlers, and dark scruffy fur, pointy ears, and a soft purr.
Every time I see it, I say to myself, “Weird.”
For it is such a strange thing, like none you’ve ever seen, sometimes I wonder about were it has been.
Only now, when it is daylight savings, am I able to truly see it, every square inch of it.
It has purple spots, and eyes the size of plates, and one night I said to myself, “ I will call you Nate!”
Now he is mine, and lives my yard, and I forgot to tell you, his hooves are very hard.