A Weird Piece of Creative Writing

Creative writing is something in which I am very interested but need a lot of practise in. so I thought I should try one of those challenges. The challenge is I generated 5 random words and I have 15 minutes to write a short piece on it. I think it would be a good idea t do these regularly.The five random words are:

Hope
Drug
Staff
Sheet
Funeral

(Note: this started of as a normal piece but as I went on my character was just talking about death and hope, so I apologise in advance.)

Despite the fact of the ongoing funeral, the afternoon was quite brisk and very much alive. The chairs were set out poorly, with no real sense of space. The rows of chairs almost resembled a school assembly instead of the reality. The casket was there to remind the guests of this. It laid at the front, it was closed, of course. Just a standard wooden casket, like anyone else, this person was once a living breathing person but was now just another body in a casket. The guests had a look of regret and sorrow on their faces. The distraught wife clinging to her napkin but consciously hoping her mascara doesnt run. The kids who know were they are but are not affected by the news. The parents who enter looking as white as sheets whilst wondering where the time went.
The staff had straight faces, feeling no obligation towards the man in the casket, but why would they. He would just be another statistic to them.

People meeting up in one space to celebrate the dead seems like a grim thought. However, it doesn’t need to be. Death isn’t happy but it isn’t necessarily sad. The person is gone but it doesn’t diminish the memories we shared and make it less important. Quite the opposite, in fact.

It’s rather weird to think of death like this. A person has left this world and eventually everyone else will too. It’s often says that every humans downfall is death, these people are wrong. A humans downfall is that they fear death. They sit around wondering what it would feel like, what there last words would be. Others embrace death, and it’s for these that there are hope. They don’t crave it nor do they fear it, but this hope in human nature is very much like a drug. It keeps you wanting more and often blinds the addict. However, this hope is much stronger than any narcotic I have ever come across.

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A Short Post on the Music I Like

“Where our music is welcome
We will play it loud,
Where our music is challenged,
We will play it louder.”- one smart motherfucker

A sudden realisation: I’m not normal.
Okay I knew that.
Everyone in class (minus one) voted to listen to some JT song and, of course, I’m the one who had to be different.
My taste in music is just so out of range to anyone I have ever met before. And it has changed.

I went from the girl who listened to n-dubz. To the girl who stopped listening to music because to her there was no meaning. Now, well let’s start off by saying I found meaning in music again.

I first came across it by coincidence. I heard of My Chemical Romance and when I heard there songs couldn’t help to love it. I found songs that expressed every emotion that I was feeling. It was so raw and so real and also kind of angry. I witnessed the evolution of a spectacular band. (The best thing that happened with this was I spoke to a girl for over an hour about them because I saw she had some kerrang! Magazines with them on the cover. It wasn’t awkward, it was two people who if have nothing else have this one thing in common.)

I then came across Green day, AC/DC, Guns and Roses, Iron Maiden and Metallica. I’m not normal because I was born in the wrong time. I still probably wouldn’t have fit in even in the 70s, but this is my kind of music.
Rock music/ rock and roll music/ rock alternative/ punk rock/ metal. Music that makes you want to pump your fists, bang your head and stick your middle finger to all the people that have a problem with it. Yeah, that’s my music.
Maybe I’m a rocker or maybe I’m just a freak. Really what’s the difference.

Songs to listen to on a sad day (or whenever)

My Chemical Romance- I’m Not Okay
My Chemical Romance- Mama (or any mcr sing)
Green day- American Idiot
Iron Maiden- the Trooper
Metallica- Enter the sandman
Leathermouth- Murder Was the Case They Gave Me
Guns and Roses- Sweet Child o Mine
AC/DC- Thunderstruck
Joan Jett- Bad Reputation
Bob Seger- Old Time Rock and Roll
Panic! At the Disco- This Is Gospel

A Gothic Piece of Creative Writing

In English my teacher loved making us do creative writing, and I’m all for that. But the problem occurred when he wanted us to read it out.
I noticed that in not as good as I’d like to be so I’m going to share my failure to whoever may read this.

The task was to create a gothic character. Give them a name, description, whatever you need to make it authentic.

An uneasy atmospheres swept across room when she pranced in. The chatter in the room abruptly stopped when eyes fell on her. She made herself known and everyone was eating out the palm of her hand. She was dangerous. The kind of woman boys were told to stay away from.
She gladly embraced this trait. It was from this very reason that men and woman stood wide eyed just staring at her, appreciating not her beauty but her perfection. Men wanted her and women wanted to be like her. However, this did not make me trust her. It wasn’t her elaborate crimson lips or shining gold hair that gave me this impression. It was the was she held her absurdly long black dress with such poise such grace. Her soundless steps were inhuman. It was more like a predator tormenting it’s prey.

Everything she did made me feel even more uneasy, like I should run and never look back however something compelled me to stay. It was the sly smile that spread across her face exposing her perfect teeth when even the most morbid conversations were taking place. Which questioned me to why I was still there.

She came closer to me as if she detected the silent scold I gave her. Her grin was even wider now. From this close I could see that she had a strong bone structure, high cheekbones combined with her thin straight nose which not only made her desirable but also beautiful. Her skin was pale but not to an extent which makes her look sickly. Her hair was wavy, and voluminous which only made her look more perfect. She was striking, everything about her, never before in my life have I seen anyone with this resemblance, her utter perfection was scary as it was so inhuman. No flaw, no bad habit.
“Good evening Mr. Cardaugh.”
What came as a shock to me was not the fact that this stranger knew my name but it was her voice. Her voice was sickly sweet almost like honey, it just didn’t fit her description of a dangerous woman. Every animal instinct in me, in my body wanted to love her, lust after her but I knew better than these fools.
“Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Angel Reginald.”
Reginald, her father has full control this small town and if he didn’t have a strange attachment to this lonely place then he could have taken over a lot more. He also wouldn’t be as alone as this small town, he’s been alone as long as anyone can remember. Since his wife died, no one knows when let alone if his wife really died of the plague, but no one dared to question him.
I was snapped out of my trance when she extended her hand out to me, which I took as she came closer.
“Hello, Miss Reginald. It’s a pleasure to meet the daughter of such an esteemed figure in this weeping town.”
“Oh, such a polite man, but there’s no need for these niceties my name is Angel but I am far from it. My parents have a sick sense of humour.” She chuckled under her breath, laughing at a joke that I never quite understood but this particular chuckle had a sinister tone that told me that I never wanted to understand it.
Also where you call this town weeping my father sees potential, the beauty.” I was shocked by this comment. I opened my mouth to oppose her argument but I couldn’t deny that there was something special about this town, however the strange happenings can not be categorised as a positive.

She once again flashed me the same grin which bares her teeth. this showed that she had rehearsed it in the mirror in order to give people this impression of a perfect Reginald.
I was absolutely certain that this would be the last thing I ever saw. As I looked at this grin one last time I was proven correct, as my surroundings disintegrated around me and everything turned black.