This is a short story I wrote for creative writing.  All I did was take ten nouns and ten verbs and randomly paired them up; I wrote a story with the ten sentences.

 

The sun ran as fast as it could, trying to win the race.  However, the moon jumped ahead in a mighty leap and claimed the sky as its own.  The night loved to be in control.  The entire time the race went on though, the stars slept and were unable to be seen.  Suddenly, the fire called out to the sky, challenging the race’s winner and brightening the world more than the usual nocturnal dimness.  A sword stared at the landscape, daring something to face it.  Time passed by and the sword feel to the ground, gems spinning off of it as it hit the hard rock.  A beautiful metal flower clanged softly as the wearer slid to the earth.  A feather climbed as the pillow was smashed.  The red cat stretched as it moved from its original place to sleep on the person on the ground; he had obviously realized that it was time for bed as well.  Thus the night’s rule went on, soothing the creatures of the land into a slumber… the power of the moon was strong.

Nouns:                 Verbs:

Sun                        Run
Moon                    Jump
Night                     Love
Stars                      Sleep
Fire                        Call
Sword                   Stare
Gems                    Spin
Feather                 Climb
Cat                         Stretch

I wrote this poem for my creative writing class.  It has a few lists in it.  See if you can find them!

 

I stared at the red rock below.

It stared back at me.
I struck a pose with my camera to remember my victory—
The day I conquered this canyon.
Then something caught the interest of my deep vibrant eyes,
Something that made me pause before I clicked the camera again.
The land stared—defiantly—back at me.
“What have you done to defeat me?” it asked with a half a smile.
“Well,” I replied, “I’ve stepped where none have stepped.”
“You think so?  Well look again, you stranger.
See the trails etched upon my ground?
Those are proof that you’re not the first who’s stepped around.
See the marks upon my walls, the black and white and red?
Those aren’t things that say this land’s not tread.
Look at the camps, the tools, the homes!
All this evidence is that creatures roam.
Those in the past have conquered before.
Do you think you’ve left your score?”
Humbled greatly as I found each thing,
I looked my shoes and saw my footprints…
They would be gone the next time it rained.
I saw the flag I pushed into the earth…
It, too, would be gone the next strong breeze.
At last, I viewed the picture I’d took…
It could vanish with any carelessness.
I had not come here very first,
Nor even left a trace.
A desire filled me bitter and clear,
One to record that I was here…
Or there…
Or anywhere!
“Do not worry, traveler man.
There plenty of ways to get a mark—
For example, why not make this a park?
I wouldn’t suggest destroying the land
Or even making lots of fans,
Those two things won’t serve you at all—
Why, that’s the way for marks to fall!
So pick a plan,
young traveler man,
And maybe with some luck,
You’ll look back here and see with joy
The mark that you have struck.”
I smiled at the vast red rock and thought about its words.
Perhaps my picture, shoes, and flag…
Might in the past begin to lag.

Road Block

      He was terrified of small spaces and she knew it.  However, there wasn't much Laurel Jackson didn't know about him.  Christopher Collins had been an old friend of hers since childhood.  He and she shared some great memories while playing in the neighborhood.  Christopher was fun-loving and often went along with the fiery girl in his neighborhood.  Sometimes her courage got them into trouble, but Laurel could always get them out of the situation.  However, the two friends eventually grew up.  Both of them had somehow split apart along the path and never came back.  That all changed when 21-year-old Laurel heard that Christopher was leaving for a flat, deserted moor miles away.  His love of open spaces had influenced this decision, but his home would then be too far away from her.  Laurel didn't want to live out in the middle of nowhere; she had grown up in a rich life and wasn't quite willing to leave it all behind for a house in the country with nothing.  All she knew was that she couldn't let him leave; though she didn't know how to do it.
      Laurel sneaked towards her own house.  She had to get a few things to prevent Christopher from leaving, but she didn't want anyone to know about it.  She pulled out a light and sent a signal across the lawn.  Of course, she had hired someone else to retrieve the items; she tended to be a bit on the lazy side and others were more experienced at stealth.
      A flicker of movement interrupted the quiet of the garden.  Laurel blinked.  Up till now, she hadn't even seen any sign of the hired thief.  Nothing else moved for about half an hour, and then Laurel saw the man bringing the desired things to her.
     "Here's your money, sir," she stated, giving the thief his pay.  He nodded and Laurel searched to make sure she had everything she needed:  a bucket and a bag of explosives.  She never did ask why her parents owned such things, only if they were safe; her parents replied by telling her not to mess with them.
      Laurel mounted her white stallion and rode to the site where she was going to plant the explosion.  It was in the mountains by the moor.  She figured that if Christopher couldn't get to his home, he wouldn't be able to leave... at least temporarily.
      Once all was in order, Laurel and her horse galloped away as fast as they could... neither of them wanted to be there when the thing went off.
      A loud boom exploded down the trail and the town looked up, startled.  Christopher Collins had been packing his luggage into the carriage, but he instantly stopped to watch.  Laurel casually walked up to him.
      "So... if the road is unsafe... does that mean you'll stay?" she asked, hoping to cajole him without sounding suspicious.  Christopher gave her a curious glance, then shrugged.
      "It depends," he replied, watching her reaction, "if I can find more reasons to stay here."  It was a broad statement, but Laurel felt her heart glimmer with hope.
      "Well...," she began with a smile.
      "Did you set off the explosion, Miss Laurel Jackson?" he asked, humor dancing in his eyes.
      "I--you have no right to frame me...I-I was...," Laurel stuttered, feeling her tongue incapable of words.
      "Laurel.  I've known you for years.  I know it was you," Christopher said, laughing.  "Does this mean you want me to stay?"
      Laurel's face lit up in delight and she nodded speechlessly.
      "Then I am unable to resist staying," Christopher said.  "Mrs. Collins," he added mischievously.
      "Do you mean--!"
      "Only if you say yes."
      "Yes!!"

Alright, I had no idea that we were posting our flash poems from our notebooks on here.  Oh, well.  This one won't be quite as thought out as the other two.  Good luck.

I saw a cool building with "SHOES" written on the side.  The words were very well sketched and the lines were crisp.  When I walked inside, beautiful multicolored flipflops were in neat rows; I wanted to try on my favorites and I bet they were comfortable and durable.  Perhaps I would buy a few. When I had made my purchase, I looked up.  The sky was amazingly blue and four sparkling balloons were over head.  Then I spotted an creative building with the metal letters "OCEAN" up on top.  Next to it, was a blue door.  Who knew where this would lead?  I met a nice girl in there who showed me a valuable message tatooed on her arms:  Never make someone else your priority, allow them to make you theirs.  Four year later, I met a guy who saw my value, and though I saw his, I never allowed myself to think of each other as anything but equals.

Hey, guys, my teacher said I had to write two flash poems, so... here's the second one.

The Final Wait

The dust cloud cleared.  I was still standing on sandy desert ground.  I had been here for over an hour, waiting, waiting, waiting.  Waiting for what though?  Was it my gold?  Definitely nope.  I had long ago lost interest in the meaningless rocks.  Was it my horse?  Maybe, it was my favorite.  However, I could always get a new one.  Was it... her?  I had to think about whether to be honest with myself, but then I saw her.  She was a bit ruffled, and more than a bit wind-blown, but I couldn't help smiling.  She had wanted to repay me for saving her life and had taken off before I could refuse.  She handed me the payment and the horse, but she spotted my face as she started to walk away.  She hesitated, looking deep into my blue eyes, then smiled softly and we both walked through the sunlight towards nowhere in particular except to be with each other.

Here is a flash poem for my creative writing class.

Riderless

The storm raged on a previously clear night.  The stars and moon were no longer visible behind the thunder clouds.  The riders were safe inside their small brick stable with smoke rising out of the top, adding to the already gray sky.  The tall rider was the most experienced, but he didn't visit the ridden as much over the years.  The flicker of sharp lightning flashed across the darkened sky, but the riders did not come as they used to to make sure the ridden were fine during the chaotic weather.  Rain clattered on the stable roof and the ridden nickered softly in protest of such noise, but the riders did not enter the stables and stroke their soft noses.  They did not even stir as one of the less ridden ones reared in fear.  "We're riderless," a dark ridden one snorted and the other ridden ones whinnied in agreement.  The bold ones began stamping at the stall doors of the suddenly recognizable cages of the ridden.  Panic, like a disease, spread quickly as each ridden one tried to escape, their powerful hooves shattering the wooden gates.  They bolted as a group towards the firm stable door, throwing their weight at the unprepared barrier.  The ridden ran wild except for the fence, and even that was no match for agile skills.  The sky was still gray, but a certain light was shining now, leading the riderless to where they were meant to be.  The riderless were free.

My mom

My sister

My cat

My sister

My cat

My creative writing teacher assigned us to posting five pictures of subjects in different perspectives.  These are the ones I took.

I wrote a poem for a class I'm taking.  You can see the huge difference between the rough draft and the final.  (If the rough draft gives you a headache, don't read it.)  I've had a lot of fun writing it, I've come far trying to make it as neat as possible.  If you're wondering why I ever would post all three drafts on here, it's another assignment (I have quite a bit of fun blogging for my homework).  Here it is, I hope you enjoy it.  I would bold the changes to make it more interesting, but there's too many.  Good luck.

Final Draft
I have the heavy burden of facing off evil.
Those who love me and those who hate me know me well.
Without me, darkness would run wild in the streets and storms would rage in dark clouds.
Neither can live while the other survives, whether that means the darkness or me.
With no one to support you, these challenges get lonelier and harder than they already are.
However, that is not the case.
I have great friends, all of whom are brave enough to stand with me.
My enemies have much to say about me,
But, by the end of my story, I want to be remembered as I really am, not who they say I am.
I am Magic Heart, but I have spoken for Harry Potter.

Third Draft
I have the heavy burden of doing my homework and facing off evil.
Those who love me and those who hate me know me well.
Without me, darkness would run wild in the streets and storms would rage in dark clouds.
Neither can live while the other survives, whether that means the evil or me.
With no one to support you, these challenges get lonelier and harder than they already are.
However, that is not the case.
I have great friends, all of whom are brave enough to stand with me.
My enemies have much to say about me,
But, by the end of my story, I want to be remembered as I really am, not who they say I am.
Today, I have seen through two different pairs of eyes… four including both sets of glasses.
I am Magic Heart, but I have spoken for Harry Potter.

Second Draft
Right now I live in two countries at once: America and England.
I have gray eyes and brown hair, but also green eyes and black hair.
I feel a scar next to my eye and on my forehead.
I have the heavy burden of doing my homework and facing off evil.
I am invisible to all except those who hate me or love me.
Without me, though, darkness would destroy and storms would rage.
But, for now, I am invisible.
If only the entire world was on my side.
With no one to support you, life’s challenges get lonelier and harder than they already are.
Only one can live while the other dies, whether that means the evil or me.
I can’t run from my destiny, but at least I will not be alone.
I have my friends and those who are brave enough to stand with me.
I want to be remembered as I really am, not who my enemies say I am. Soon, I will live only in America and have one set of characteristics.
However, as of now, I see through two different pairs of eyes… four including both sets of glasses.
I am Magic Heart, but I have spoken for Harry Potter.

First Draft
Right now I am in two countries at once:  America and England.
I have blue eyes and brown hair, but also green eyes and black hair.
I feel a scar next to my eye and on my forehead.
I have the heavy burden of facing off evil and doing my homework.
I am invisible to all except those who hate me or love me.
The trouble makers wish I wasn’t there.
My friends would go with me to the end… or at least think about it.
Without me, darkness would rampage.
But, for now, I am invisible.
The world needs to hear the message I wish to share.
The world should be on my side.
With no one to support you, it gets lonelier and harder than it already is with all of the challenges life throws.
They don’t have to have magic or step way out of the way, they just have to be my friends.
If nothing, they can’t knock me down.
My friends and family are dear to me, so if I don’t come back one day, want them to stay safe and not mourn forever.
Dying will only reunite me with those I have lost along the path.
Only one can live while the other dies, whether that means evil or me.
I will try my best to succeed, but there will be sacrifices.
My life is a good story, but it isn’t easy to live that tale.
It is my destiny.
I can’t run from it.
At least, I will not be alone.
I have my friends and those who will be brave enough to stand with me.
I want to be remembered as I really am, not who my enemies say I am.
Soon, I will live only in America and have one set of characteristics.
However, as of now, I see through two different pairs of eyes… four including both sets of glasses.
I am Magic Heart, but I have spoken for Harry Potter.

Rough Draft
Right now I am in two countries at once.  I a m both Harryp Otter and anMagic Heart.  I Live in both America and England.  I bo to both high school and Hogwarts.  I am a muggle and a wizard. I have green and eyes and blue. I have balck ahir and brown. I am a teenage girl and a teenage boty.  I have the heavey buden of facing of f  Voldemort and dloing my homwework.  Harry wishes to tellsay that he it s the only one thatwho an save the world from the dark wizards.  While Magic, on the other hadn, says that she has to finish her creative wrtieing assignment.  Harry wins.  He has a powerful mind , wone that overpowers my noonmagic one anyday.  He doesn’t really ne.  jI am the link between him and the rest of the worldl he is invislibe to all except those who hate him or love him.  The dursleys and the death eaters know him well and wish he wasn’t there.  This friends Hermione and ron Weasley  would die before they let him die.  SDnape wouldn’t care if he vanished off the face ofn the earth, Doumbledcore need him for sa plane of great importance.  Without him , Voldemort would take ofvedr.  But, for now, he is invislbe.  The muggles don’t kreally know he exists. But I,, with him insides me.  Telling me what ito write, asking me to write to for him.  , I can’t igonore him.  I can’t refuse to seack what he whants the world to sayhera.  ?He needs them world to remember him.  He needs to he wourdl to be one his wised.e With no one wone to support you, he says, it’ gets very lonely and harder than the it already is , with all of the challenges he goes through.  He has to face Voldemort eveyr year, mulptiple times, so the least everyone can do is support him.. They don’t have to help him with magic ofr actually defeating Voldemort, they just have to believe him and be his friends.  They jcan’t reidulce him or call him insane anyomroe . He is a vey normal hreo and shouldn’t be treated like a insane criminal.  He kalso wishes to say that he loves Ginny Wealsdely and all his friends, so if he dones’t come back one day. He wants the m to stay safe and not rtty to get revenge.  Only on e can live while the other doies.  He doesn’t want to the be the one that perishes in, but he dones’t really have a choice.  If Voldemort it s to o strong, he will fail.  That’s just life for one of the m ost famous peopltenenage boys in all of the world.  I , cora hammer do not dney tah.  I kidn of want ot get back to the life of just dreaming of the mgagic world jinstead of lvinign it with haryy potter . it isn’t fair to make a fmuggle girl do the work othat really should have been harryp opotter ‘s .  However, that it sis not up to me.  I whave to fkeep writing and already I’m going to far off subject form where harpy porter whatnatds me to be.  It do that--.  He arry wants me to say that he will try this best , but he wants us to know that it isn’t without sarcrifice.  He dknow s that his life is a good story, but people often ouverlook how diffifulct it wactually is to live that stale.  The reality is harsh, but he will altlasest chas to bear it.  It his is destinty.  He can’t run from it.  He can’t hide from it It is part of him.  Not to mention it oculd have been Neville Longbottom’s --.  Back to Harryp owtter.  He says thsy dhe wants to see his lsot famliolky again anywawy, so don’t tbe to said  tif he has to leave this wordl.  He will just be reunited with his family.  The people that he lsot if n the along the path of his wicked destinthy.  At least, he says, he will not bne alone,.  /he has if his frineds and , hopefully, by the end iof this, he will whave you.  The reader of theis pager.  That’s was all he needed to explain.  All that he really wanted to sasy.  But I think there is more.  Being inside harry.  , I know all his thoughts.  He want s people to remember him as a good hero.  One hathat wasn’t a coward or a lunatic or a selfish man.  He want sto be remembered as he was.  That his sotry may not be forgotten.  He is too humble to actually admit that.  <but that is nhow he is feleling.  It is impossible to say more, because he is pre enting me from viewing oand writing all the secrets of his heart and all the thoughts of his brilliant mind.  I can feel his scar. I can see thourhg his eyes.  He knows I want to write more bu,t kj obcviuosouly, he can’t let me.  It is too special to heim to slety hme share.  But if I could, I would explain all about who harryp porter is.  I would share all the unqiue details that interest he is a great guy and heis rstory wshould be told wide far and wide.  It isn’t just me either.  His friends also think so It would prevent lies getting out about him.  It would prevent discrediters and thieves of a famous , glorious life. Of a amazing life. He wishes hme to say that he w he is just harry. Bu, I know that he isn’t.  is the is the fthe y boy who live the chosen one and Harryp Potter.  He isn’

To think something New is exciting, for almost everything's been done.
To say something New is brightening, for almost everything's been sung.
To do something New is terrifying, for almost everything's been defied.
To write something New is gratifying, for almost everything's been retried.