Under the Large Oak Tree

Wow it’s been a while, anyway Catty and I decided to write another Collab! We hope you enjoy the story as it’s been a while. 

I ran through the forest of purple tinted roses and could feel the thorns scraping my legs. I stumbled for a moment, flaring my wings in some last ditch attempt to maintain my balance as small droplets of blood ran slowly down my legs. My muscles screamed in pain, echoed cries of hours of constant and harried movements. I looked back at the yellow brick house behind me, finally getting away from the overbearing control of those watching over me.

“Run, run little bird. You won’t find any sanctuary out there,” Sasha sneered, wrapping her arms around herself as she watched me run. I threw a glance over my shoulder, flinching away from her cold, cold eyes. “You’ll find that the world is far crueler than we have ever been.”

I smile, a false smile just something to hide the fact that she might be correct in her sayings. I continue running until I found the only tree, the large sap tree. Run straight for the tree, the note had read. Run straight for it and don’t hesitate. So I ran. A cool breeze passed over me and I blinked as the sunlight hit me, momentarily blinded. I tripped over the large roots used to sit on as a young one. I fell and saw a large, dark oak door set nearby.

“Well, well little bird, you found your way down the rabbit hole after all.” Sasha said, her hair slightly mussed and dirt staining patches onto her normally spotless jacket. “I didn’t have the benefit of a neat little passageway you did but,” she paused, spreading her hands and turning her face towards the sun with a self-satisfied smirk. “Here we are, little bird. Here we are.”

“Where am I?” I asked, curious of why there was even a passageway.

“You passed the test, little bird,” Sandra said with a smile. “I knew you could do it.”

“Test? What test? You’ve been testing me this whole time? Are you going to take me somewhere?” I asked.  

“Anyplace we would take you, you’re already here.” Sasha waved her hand the air around them blurred for a moment, settling into a bustling city-scape. “Anywhere you could possibly want to go right here. So where do you want to go, Little Bird? Anywhere where in the world.”

“Home,” she whispered, as she looked down. The world blurred around her as she kneeled to the ground. “I want to go home.” The world shattered after that, a thousand broken fragments cutting like glass and she heard an awful shrieking that she realized moments later were emerging from her already ragged throat.

Sandra smiled a twisted smile “Wrong answer, Little Bird, wrong answer.” Sandra walked out of the rabbit hole, leaving the girl behind.

He looked through the glass, resting his hand on its cold surface for a brief moment, his breath leaving foggy marks, marring his view before he turned away with a quiet sigh.

“How much longer?” he asked, glaring at the doctor. “How many more treatments, how many more drugs?”

“Sir, we are doing everything we can,” the doctor said in his wheedling, calm voice that he reserved only for difficult patients and distraught family members. “Treatment takes a while to balance correctly and I assure you that we are doing everything we-”

“Look at her!” he roared, cutting the doctor off. “Look at her. She’s not getting any better and you can’t get her to do anything else but curl up in a ball and cry.”

“Sir, I assure you-” he slammed a hand down on the nearby desk.

“You are doing nothing,” he hissed before stalking away.

“We are doing everything we can!” The doctor exclaimed, his face turning a dark red.

You aren’t doing enough!” he retorted, leaving the room in a rage.

He paced back and forth outside of Jade’s room “They say they’re doing everything they can, so why isn’t anything working!”

Her screaming echoed around the room and followed him all the way out the door. He shuddered as he stepped into the sunlight, the sun somehow feeling cold and foreign to him. Nothing I can do, he said to himself. Nothing I can do.

The shadows oozed behind the door, watching his hasty retreat to his car, satisfied.

Fin.

Forgotten Pasts

Just something I came up with today, I hope that you enjoy.

Laughter, the thing he hears as gleeful children go by.

Wonders how the children are so cheery in a world so poignant,

A world full of conflict, not a single person says bye;

As the people drop, dead, drunk with disappointment

Grabbing their empty glasses, watching them slip

Falling closer to death, closer to the cold utopia

Where not even the worst sinners trip,

Down the empty staircase up or down the dystopia.

Slurred words and rancid breath, and cigar pieces

Looking over the fields where those dead stays.

Every new beginning, a new year, brings peace

But nothing can cause those riots to lay,

Lay down their words, and retire their thoughts

So that their children would never be taught.

What’s going on?

Man it’s been a while hasn’t it? Long time no see, how are you all? I hope you enjoy the story!

Click. The quiet sound of a lock engaging, the panicked breathing of the person trapped inside. One. A flash, a flare – a matchhead blazing to life in the near darkness of the adjacent hallway, gagging on the thick scent of gasoline. Two. The faint frantic scrabbling of a man wrestling with a door handle that he knows isn’t going to open no matter how hard he tugs at it, but is trying nonetheless, some instinct deep inside him urging survive, survive …

Crack. The wooden door shattered like glass as the man slammed with his life into it. Stomp. The man ran through the building, watching everything burn around him as he scurried through the maze. He could feel the sweat dropping off his brow, the heat surrounding his helpless figure. Whoosh. The man tackled the door, exiting his burned past. Drip. The man feels the rain falling, covering him in relief. The man ran through the empty streets away from the fire. “Why is it so hot out?”

Crack. The man sees a wooden door burning, cracking to the beat of his footsteps before it disappears. “What was that?”.

Drip. Another drop of sweat falls from his dry face. He runs into the middle of the city, watching the lifelessness of the streets. “Where is everyone at, it’s the middle of the day!”

Whoosh. The man can see himself surrounded by flames again for a brief moment, but it disappears again. The man shakes his head, thinking something of it, but not knowing what. Crack. The man is startled by the sound of wood breaking, cracking, the same sound he can’t stop hearing. Its haunting voice tracking him down like a hunter, following his every step. “What is going on!” he asked to himself in a highly-concerned voice.

Stomp. The man hears the sound of boots walking near. He turns around and see’s a woman. The woman, long black hair, stone cold black eyes, dressed in a suit looked back at him. “Where is everyone?” The man asked.

“Come here and I’ll tell you.” The woman responded, enunciating every word she said in such a similar way.

Whoosh. The man walked over to the woman, and was pushed backwards. “What’s going on, what is this!” the man exclaimed.

All the man could see was darkness, he kept on falling and falling. Burnt. The man saw light, a bright orange light, and he reached for the light. “Hot?” was the last thing he said.

Boom. The room went off with an explosion, the man stuck in the room. Death. He thought that he survived, but oh, how wrong one can be!

“We found a man dead in a building.” The officer said, “All that’s left is his skeleton”.

The Darkness We Share

Catty and I decided to Collab on a story. We wanted to see what would happen if we put our heads together, and this is what turned out.

 

There was an artist who loved to paint the shadows. But the dangerous thing about toying with the darkness is it took its price. It took your mind. Your soul, the very fiber of your being, it infiltrated you  and consumed what pleased it, until there was nothing left. These shadows, hungry for something to feed on, came out of these horrifying works of art. They crept against the walls, watching for him to become vulnerable. But they didn’t always have to hunt. More often than naught, their prey came to them, enchanted by the rich, alluring colors, the promises of something devastatingly taboo.

One day, a young child crept into the gallery, her eyes wide, as her hands nervously clenched and unclenched. She wasn’t supposed to be here, she knew, but something called her. She looked around the room in which it called her, looking for someone, something …. hoping she isn’t alone in the commodious room.

“Child …. You are … lost?” A voice asked hesitantly, soft and soothing, melodious in rhythm. She turned, her eyes wide, but her heart singing out to the beautiful voice.

“No…. I don’t… think so… Where is everyone? Where are you?” She asked, her tone worried, yet she was surprisingly unafraid.

“Come closer, young one.” The voice crooned, the shadows softening. “Do not be afraid, youngling. We will take good care of you.”

“But… I don’t know where you are.” She responds, eyes widening at the paintings.

“Just follow the path we set for you,” the voice said quietly. A hallway to her right lit up, the light a sudden and abrasive brightness that hurt her eyes.

Slowly and hesitantly, she walked through the hallway. She watched the shadows emerging from the painting in front of her. The painting showed the story of a young prince, who let the darkness get to him. The same prince who slaughtered his family to making the voices go away.

“Why are you showing me this?” She asked quietly, unable to tear her eyes away from the blood spattered painting.

“Don’t be afraid,” the voice said quietly.

The shadows leaked from the paintings around the room, revealing their hiding spots, where they watch the weak humans. They watched her from all around the room before closing the hallway, leaving her trapped in the room. She looked around for a moment, not yet afraid, but the barest hints of anxiety began swelling in her small frame.

“Please,” she said hesitantly. “Where am I?” A quiet sound to her right startled her, ripping a small gasp from her throat.

“Don’t be afraid,” came the soft voice. She could see a lady, garbed in red silk, her hair covering her eyes in graceful swoops. “Are you lost?”

“I.. don’t think so. I don’t know.” She responded, mumbling in an uncertain tone. She looked at the women towering over her, and she looked at the woman’s hand reached out in front of her. She wondered about why the women was the only one here. She wondered where was her family, was she left behind?

“I can help you find your family, young one,” the lady said, her voice calming. “But I require a small token of your faith. Something to … give me energy enough to help you find your family, youngling.”

“Miss, what do you mean by token?” the little girl asked, pondering if she could trust the women.

Just a drop of your blood,” she said soothingly. “A single drop. A pinprick. Then we can find your family.”

“My blood? Why.. do you need my blood?” The little girl asked, wanting to know what her blood could do. She never thought of herself of anything special, so how could her blood help.

“It doesn’t matter, young one. Don’t worry your pretty head about it.” She reached out a hand, the skin paler than any human’s, the veins blue and pulsing. “Just a drop of blood.”

“Okay…. I guess a drop of blood wouldn’t hurt me, but ma’am, why is your blood blue?” The lady laughed, a harsh sound in the stillness of the art gallery.

“You ask too many questions.” She said, her face losing some of its kindness. “The blood?” She asked impatiently.

“Okay… if you say that it’ll really help.” The girl said with utmost uncertainty, but she didn’t want the lady to become angry with her. She hated when people became angry at her, they yelled at her and they scared her. The little girl reached out her hand, offering one of her fingers the the lady. She reached out and snatched at the girl’s hand, dragging her roughly down the hallway.

“Come child,” she said, her voice harsher now, raspy. The lady’s nails dug into the little girls skin, causing the child to bleed from her wrists.

“Ow, you’re hurting me. Let me go! I don’t want to go!” the little girl screamed at the lady.

“Hush. You should be honored, being chosen to take part in our little ritual.” The lady snapped, tossing her hair back. Her eyes, they were so cold, so … dark.  

“Okay… but you’re hurting me, and I don’t like it.” The little girl said between sniffles, trying not to cry out of fear. The lady ignored her, yanking her into the large circular room, where unfinished paintings stood in a ring, the shadows bleeding out of them. The little girl looked at the ring, watching the shadows form a mouth, as if they were going to eat her.

“What… is that?” the little girl screamed, terrified of everything around her. “Am I going to be eaten?” She asked the lady, the lady who was smiling a grim and sadistic smile.

“You are very lucky” the lady said with a quiet smile. “Very fortunate indeed. You have been chosen as the sacrifice that will prolong our life … for another century,she said, pleased.

“I’m a sacrifice? I’m going to be killed?” She said, trying to pull away from the woman. The lady’s nails scratched against the girl’s arm as the girl got free of the women’s grasp. The women turned around, and almost growled at the girl. The little girl turned out in an attempt at escaping, and saw the shadows forming a wall where the door used to be.

“Don’t be frightened,” the lady said in the same sing-song voice. “You won’t feel a thing, not a thing at all, just surrender to the darkness …” The little girl felt her consciousness fading.

The women walked over to the drowsy girl, and picked her up. Her nails expanding, shaping into the form of a knife. She placed the girl down in front of the mouth, and stabbed her in the neck. From the wound bled her blood, thicker and darker, as it coursed to the floor, pooling into a still mirror, which the shadows came and drank their fill.

They gleamed, an ebony in the sparse light, pleased as they slipped back to their canvases, waiting for the gallery to open again.

An Euphoric Death

He reached under his bed and pulled out the wooden box with practiced ease, the hinges creaking slightly as he opened the box. He pulled out the white strip of gauze and wound it around his arm, clenching his teeth as he tied it off with a jerking motion. His fingers scrabbled around the bottom of the box for a brief moment until they curled gently around the syringe. He raised it up to the light, tapping it with his fingernail, the bright blue liquid inside waving gently with the motion. He set the tip against his skin before pausing for a brief moment. It was his first time using joy, a much more concentrated composition than he was used to. His dealer told him the effects were much more powerful than happy and that the steeper price was well worth it. Time to find out.

He sauntered around the empty boulevard, high as a kite, spectating the silent tiptoes of the rats. Oddly enough, he found sudden interest in the carnivorous nature of those tiny beasts. Their pink noses pressed against the bloody remains of some poor creature, half-starved, that had wandered into their midst and died there. He became happy whenever he watched the swarm of those little monsters scurrying around their ghostly homes.

He always loved being happy, but that’s all it was, happiness. But for some odd reason, his happiness was becoming boring. He began to realize that this Amazing feeling didn’t effect like it used to, the rush running through his veins. After coming to this disappointing realization, he decided to contact his provider for something stronger.

He watched as the blood liquid slowly drained into his body, the vigorous sensation of joy immediately encased him. His eyes glossed over from the feeling of joy. Was this worth it? He decided that would have to find out. He left his condensed and incommodious room, and went to his boulevard with his favorite little things. He smiled constantly knowing that this was nothing like happy, no it was more euphoric than that. The constant rush was brand new and intense. He decided to sit down next to the rats, reaching out to touch their little tails. Smiling was all he could do; he couldn’t talk without ruining this moment. Those little beasts didn’t like being touched, and started biting at him. Their fangs clenching the flesh and ripping it off of him. His blood gushed everywhere, spilling all over the desolate and dark cement; But he was enjoying it, he felt joy in the bites, but not ever any pain. Slowly, he laid down on the ground and closed his eyes. His provider was right, joy brought peace and happiness, unlike that of happy.

In the five minutes, he was gone; all that was left of him was his skeleton, which the rats were already consuming.

Announcement

Just for everyone asking, no we Are Not submitting any of these stories to the Scholastic writting competion. If there is a single story from this blog being submitted to Scholastic this year then it is stolen from this website and therefor not our’s. We have all talked about these stories, and we feel that we shouldn’t submit anything that we put online, to Scholastic. This is because, we feel like that we shouldn’t be copying down other stories that we have written here; we want to be writing more stories.

Christmas Cooking

Sorry for the late upload. This is a story about the first time someone tried to cook the dinner alone, and how they failed at doing so.

“Yes, I finally get to cook Christmas Dinner,” he said excited. It was Christmas day and Jack was in charge of cooking the Christmas dinner for the party his family was hosting later that night. He started his journey of cooking by looking in the cupboard and grabbing spices and herbs.

“The recipe said that I needed, : 1 tbsp of garlic salt, 1/4 tbsp of  lemon pepper, 5 leaves of basil, 1/16 of a cup of thyme, a pinch of salt, a pinch of pepper, 1/2 of a chile pepper, 1/16 of a cup of rosemary, 1 lbs (.45kg) of beef, 1/2lbs (.23) of chicken, 1lbs (.45) of pork, 1 cup (240 ml) of ketchup, 1/2 cup (120ml) of mustard, 1 can of beef broth, and 1 cup sugar.” Jack said, while he placed all of the spices and herbs on the table. He grabbed his pan and turned the heat on High and drained the beef broth into the pan. Once the beef broth began to boil he put the lemon pepper, the garlic salt, the pepper, and the salt into the broth.

“I hope this taste good.” Jack said to himself. Jack walked over to the fridge and got out the 3 different types of meat. He placed them on the table and opened them. He poured the beef broth into another glass and put the beef, chicken and the pork into the hot pan.

“Okay I will just leave them to simmer,” Jack said forgetting to turn down the heat on the stove. Leaving the room, the meat in the pan began to heat up. Jack decided to sit in a chair forgetting about the dinner he was cooking. Slowly, the meat caught on fire creating an abundance of smoke all throughout the house.

“FIRE!” Jack yelled in dismay running to the kitchen to put out the fire. “Crap, crap, crap, I forgot to turn the heat down!” Jack exclaimed.

After Jack put out the fire, he looked at the mess he made. “Ohh no! I wasn’t suppose to mess this up. This recipe was supposed to be really easy.” He said looking at the pile of coal in the pan.

“Maybe this is what I deserve, a lump of Coal…” Jack said walking out of the kitchen, his shoulders slouched from sadness.

Drunken Nights

This story is in the form of a script that I came up with some friends.

Rose and Storm just got married

Marco and Hope and a couple

Arlyn and Mari are a couple

Maia and Beth are forever alone

Rose: Storm! Where did the Crank go?

Storm: I don’t know where Maia and Beth hid it

Maia and Beth laughs as they destroy all of Rose’s Crank

Rose: Mari get us some more Crank

Mari and Arlyn are drink Crank next to each other

Mari: OOOOOOkaaaaayyyyyyyy

Mari walks over to Rose, stumbling over the air. 

Mari: Heeeerrrrrreeeee yooooou gooooooooo

Mari stumbles back to Arlyn, and Arlyn stands up and Catches her before she falls.

Arlyn: Mari, I think that you had too much to drink

Mari: Noooooo I diddddnnn’ttttt

Arlyn laughs before sitting Mari down, grabbing a pillow for her to law down on

Arlyn: Mari, you need to go to sleep.

Mari: Okay……

Mari lays down and passes out drunk

Where Hope and Marco and Hanging out at

Hope: Marco, quit drinking or you’ll pass out

Marco: I’m not even drunk, I don’t even think I can get drunk

Hope sighs

Hope: We need to go check on the newly-weds

Marco: They’re fine, we don’t need to check up on them

Hope: Nope we are going right now!

Hope stands up and grabs Marco and forces him to follow her down the hall

Rose: This isin’t very good Crank Mari

Storm: Shhhhh, Mari is asleep over there Rose

Rose: Well , can you get me some better Crank Storm?

Rose hugs Storm tightly, kissing him on the cheek. Storm starts to blush.

Storm: Okay, but we shouldn’t stay up to much longer

Hope: Storm, Rose, how are you guys?

Storm: We just saw you guys 30 minuits ago….

Marco: Hope, I told you that we didn’t need to see how they were doing

Rose: Hope, can you and Storm get me some more Crank?

Hope: I just told Marco that he couldn’t have anymore Crank

Marco walks over to the couch and passes out Drunk. By the couch, Arlyn and Mari are asleep

Hope: See Rose, I am sure you had enough, but since you want some more here

Hope hands Rose some Crank to drink. Storm sits down on the Chair slowly falling asleep

Rose: Thanks Hope!

Hope: No problem

About 5 minuits later

Rose: Yawwwnnnnn, I am tired

Rose walks over to Storm and falls asleep on the Chair next to him

Hope: Wow, everyone is passed out. I guess I should find somewhere to sleep

Hope seees Marco on the couch and goes to him. Hope takes a blanket and puts it over him and she lays down next to him and falls asleep.

Crash landings

Sadly, Cattydragon could not write a wonderful story today. So today i will be covering for her.  

After fully situating myself in the window seat of the airplane, I began to look at my surroundings. There were children running up and down the aisles of the Maxtor Enterprises Airplane. They were speaking to each other as if they were the greatest of friends, even though they had just met each other on the plane. The youngest child on the plane was a little girl in a purple dress. I would guess that she was about 4 years of age, but she acted like she was an ornery little 6-year-old. She was speaking to a little boy supposedly names Jack, and they were talking about what color the leaves of the trees were going to be.

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, please have a seat as the Maxtor Airplane sets off for Costa Rica,” The Flight attendant said over the speaker, alarming parents to gather their children before they lift off.  I turned to look out the window, watching as the plane left the ground for the skies.

 

“Mister, you know what the trees leaves color will be?” asked the little girl in front of me. Her eyes stared into mine with an utmost curious glare. I couldn’t help but chuckle at her question, causing her to begin to form a frown.

 

“Little girl, the leaves will be green like any other leaf on a tree. But these leaves are a lot bigger than the ones at home, they are almost as big as my arm, okay?” I told the little girl, extending my arm giving her something to compare the leaves too.

 

“Whoa! I told you the leaves were green!” The little girl exclaimed at the little boy in front of her. He started to frown and he sat down in his chair pouting. I started chuckling at those two, how close friends they have come in just a short amount of time.

 

I look out at the window, watching the different shapes the clouds make. I have always wondered what mysterious force causes these clouds to become the shape that they are currently. The plane’s wings fly above clouds, giving a prideful feeling to swell up. I am above the clouds, the highest object in the sky, higher than everything below me. I am above the little red birds chirping for their mother to give them food, the little lizards crawling through the desert.

 

“Attention, everyone please be quiet. We are having troubles, so please don’t worry as we will fix it.” The Flight attendant said over the speaker in a worried voice. This caused me to wonder, what is wrong with the flight right now? I took a final look outside to see the plane’s wings smoking. I almost missed the smoke, because of the small amount of it present.  After an hour of waiting, the smoke finally became a large flame. Some of the passengers on the plane were weeping, and others were holding their children close to them.

 

“What is happening mister?” The little girl asked, tears forming in her eyes out of the fear of death. I almost began to cry, choking on the tears as I tried to form an answer.

 

“Little girl, the monsters in the ground are making the airplane fly downwards faster than expected. Don’t be scared, the sky monsters will save all of us from dying here, okay?” I said in the most reassuring voice I could muster. I knew that all of us were going to die, but at least this little girl could be happy.