What It comes down to is that I'm writing this for me, with hopes that people will follow to build my writer's platform. So, maybe I need to spice it up a little bit with some of my writing.
I've given this a lot of consideration. A Lot. I spend a good deal of time resting with my trusty heating pads and doing some thinking. After all, you can only watch so much TV and my eyes always need a break from reading.
So, starting today, I'll write a little bit about what's on my mind and I'll post part of a story (in order, of course). Maybe I'll post a poem sometimes, but the point is, I'll be posting my writing.
As I will posting my writing I encourage comments, but please, try to be gentle. I'm quite sensitive. Actually, I've toughened up since I've been sick. All the bad news, one thing after another sometimes, has made me much stronger ironically. Funny how that happens. The most crazy time in my life and I'm the calmest I've ever been.
I hope you enjoy the story. I'm going to put it in several days in a row. I'm entering this story in a competition next week. I hope there are no errors. Final edit isn't until Monday (I have homework for my class). This is a story I wrote years ago, but I feel it's strong and just needs a little editing.
The Boys From This Neighborhood
Boom ba boom boom. The driving beat of Reggae music poured
into her apartment, making Suki jumpy. The music, mixed with the usual sounds
of traffic, sirens, and her neighbors arguing made her ears ring.
“I
wish they’d turn it down,” she said aloud. But Suki couldn’t do anything about
it, and it was far too hot to close the windows. She tried to block out the
noises of the party, which was impossible because the party was in the building
next door.
Suki
stared out the window taking in the sights of the street she had lived on for
most of her seventeen years. The apartment buildings were close together,
lining most of her block. At the corner on the southeast side was Stan’s
Liquor. From her location, near the northwest corner, she could see a lot of
the activity on the street.
It was a humid night, muggy and sticky. Suki was perspiring.
“Why
don’t we have a fan?” she asked. As usual, no one answered because no one was
home.
Her
dad was working again tonight. He said he hated to leave her, but he had to work
nights; jobs weren’t easy to come by. He told her repeatedly how he felt
responsible for not protecting her, not being able to protect her.
He
had looked uneasy as he was leaving. “Just stay in and keep the door locked,”
he had said.
“Don’t
worry, Daddy,” she told him, conjuring up her courage. She didn’t want him to
leave her alone.
As
usual, her mom was out, too. She was probably at the local bar. There would be
no chance of seeing her before daylight.
Boom
ba boom boom. She checks the door to make sure it’s locked for the fifth time.
It was, yet she still didn’t feel safe.
She
stared out the window. The street looked crowded and dirty. Dirtier than it
ever had before. Then she heard a girl, probably her age, drunk and giggling,
at the part next door. She could picture the girl in a cute, tight dress, made
up to look hot. It reminded her of how she looked and acted that night.
“I
feel like dancing,” the drunken girl said.
“Hey
babe, I’ll dance with you,” a boy replied.
Suki
knew his voice. She knew that boy and his friends. The boys from this
neighborhood always traveled in packs.
I'll post a little more tomorrow!
peace and love,
sunee
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