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 A book of my thoughts, which may or may not actually be written at midnight. |
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** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Hi! I'm Amber, sometimes known as MissTique. This is my book of things that happen in my brain. Thanks so much to the WDC Angel Army for the upgraded membership!  Someone posted this on the newsfeed a while back, and I thought it was a good thing to keep in mind: "Write a short story every week. It's not possible to write 52 bad short stories in a row." - Ray Bradbury |
| I've released my inner Dr. Seuss. Day 19 Prompt: Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he? Daddy’s gone mad, He’s completely insane! Wants us to leave town On a bus or a plane Or a truck or a car, A boat or a train, I think that Dad’s got Something wrong with his brain! End ~Amber |
| Day 20 Prompt: You will find that I will only truly have left this school when none here are loyal to me. Mrs. Smith was graduating with her students this year. Of course, by "graduating", I mean "retiring", but there wasn't really much of a difference. On graduation day, the usual people give their speeches: the principal, the valedictorian, the salutatorian, all that. But this year, Mrs. Smith also gave a speech, and I'm certain there wasn't a dry eye in the whole building. My friend Jonah and I cried out eyes out before she had even started talking. "I have been teaching at this school for forty years, and I'm glad to say that those years were some of the best of my life. There were good times, and not so good ones, but they flew by quick. It's always hard to say goodbye, but even though I won't be here anymore after today, I won't be really be gone, either. I'll only truly have left this school when all of you have forgotten about me. And my students know that I won't be forgotten so soon." She glanced over at the group of sobbing teenagers sitting in the bleachers, who all managed a little laugh. "I so happy to have gotten the opportunity to teach and inspire so many young people, and to watch them grow into adults. It was an experience that I will always remember. Thank you to the students who went on this journey with me, and thank you to the staff who helped me out along the way. I'll miss you all." She stepped down from the podium and joined her students in the bleachers, where we all hugged her fiercely and told her we would miss her too. Many years later, I would find myself back in town, stumbling across my old school, and wondering about our old teacher. Many years later, and she still would not be forgotten. End For my own Mrs. Smith, who is and always will be a huge inspiration to me. ~Amber |
| Day 23 Prompt: It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live. "Girls can't be astronauts, Kaitlyn. Girls are mommies, or they're wives. They take care of babies, they make dinner for their husbands, or they make clothes. I don't know where you got this ridiculous idea of going to space, but you can just get it out of your head now. Don't be a dreamer, sweetheart. Be realistic." My dad had always been a bit old-fashioned, but you can imagine how hearing something like that might crush my 5-year-spirit. Lucky for me, I never cared much for reality. I was a dreamer. I dreamed of space. So, being the stubborn little girl that I was, I defied my father to the best of my ability. I studied hard in grade school, exercised regularly to stay in shape, got a degree in engineering, and got my pilot's license, all by 24-years-old. After a long, harsh testing and application process, I got a phone call from NASA. If I was still interested, they told me, then I was to go on the next space mission. I was going to be an astronaut. After the NASA rep hung up the phone, the first thing I did was call my dad. End ~Amber |
| Ah! They're all out of order! And I'm all wrote-out from yesterday, but I gotta finish, so here we go! Day 26 Prompt: I'm dying, look at me! It's killed me! "Nicole, you've been sitting in here crying all day. What's wrong? Have you been reading again?" Nicole sobs and tosses her copy of "Wise Owls, Foolish Men" at her father. "I'm dying, look at me! It's killed me! That book has killed me!" "You're being a little dramatic, don't you think?" He glances down at the cover. "This one again? You already know how it ends. You've read it, what, thirteen times now? It can't still be that sad." "Sixteen, actually. And you don't know. You couldn't possibly. You've never read it. If you had, you'd be crying too." "Oh, I very much doubt that. Have you ever seen me cry over anything? It wouldn't even make me tear up, let alone kill me." "Fine. Read it, then. Tonight. Let's see if you aren't sobbing your eyes out by the end." Nicole is quite sure of herself. "Alright, then, I'll read it tonight. After you've gone to bed." He leaver the room. Later Nicole stands beside the doorway to the living room, with her ear pressed against the wall. Dad's been reading for a couple of hours now, so he's probably close to the end. Now, if only she could hear..... Sniff sniff Ah. There it is. A few stifled sobs and some tissues later, Nicole smiles to herself, and quietly climbs the stairs to her bedroom. End ~Amber |
| Day 18 Prompt: Why would I go looking for someone I know wants to kill me? He wants me dead I know that now. Why would I look for him, Chase him, Hunt him down first? I'm not as reckless as you seem to think. Sure, he's a murderer, Killed a dozen muggles And his friend Pettigrew. And yeah, he's a traitor, Betrayed my parents, Almost killed me once already. But don't worry about me. I won't go after him. I'm not as reckless as you seem to think. End ~Amber |
| I didn't even have to think about this one. *shudder* Day 17 Prompt: Which creature would you be unwilling to kiss? Sneaking, Prowling little fiend. Inside Doorways, Evading capture. Repulsive creature. End ~Amber |
| Day 16 Prompt: There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other. There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other. For Stephanie and I, this thing was cramming for finals. Let me tell you a little story. 'Twas the night before finals And all through the town, All the students were studying Math, Reading, and Science. (I didn't say the story would rhyme) At the library, at a table for four, Sat two ragged Sophomores, Named Stephanie and Anna. They were both complete strangers, They'd never met before, But the night before finals Made friends of the girls. With flashcards and cheat sheets, Textbooks and notes, They prepared for the tests, And hoped for passing scores. The next day flew by quickly, The exams were done, And the two study partners Were inseparable friends. The end. If you can't tell, creative writing was not one of the classes I took, but that's okay. Poetry is more Stephanie's thing anyway. End ~Amber |
| My writing gets... weird when I'm tired. Day 15 Prompt: It was as though they had been plunged into a fabulous dream. The bright orange of the autumn leaves are as beautiful as any artwork I've ever seen. Climbing into my favorite tree, just beyond the edge of the woods, I take in the scenery. The traces of summer are quickly fading away, leaving behind only hints of green through the elegant reds and browns. I settle myself comfortable between two branches, close my eyes, and take a breath. The crisp fall air fills my lungs, and I never want to let it go. After a few minutes of sitting in my tree, I hear rain begin to drip onto the forest floor. I open my eyes. There's nothing quite like rain in a forest. I watch for a while as a drip becomes a drizzle, simply admiring nature. The vibrant leaves are made only more breathtaking when speckled with water. Surely, this must be a dream. Even the rain looks colorful. I lean back and shut my eyes again. Later, when I wake, the rain has stopped, and the sun has dipped below the horizon. I stretch quietly, hop down from my perch, and start toward home. I've missed the sunset, but I don't mind. There's always tomorrow. End ~Amber |
| Day 14 Prompt: You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. First day of high school. Backpack: check. Notebooks: check. Pencils, paper, folders: check. Confidence: must've left it at home. Mom's words still echo through my brain. "Don't go making friends with the wrong sort, you hear?" she'd said. "You'll end up in jail before you've had your first kiss." I just wish I knew how to find the right sort of friends, so that I could avoid the wrong ones. I have nothing to show for my first three classes except for a few pages on "classroom etiquette" and a form for my mom to sign when I get home. Lunch is a silent affair, at least on my part, and I brace myself for my last class of the day: chemistry. Upon entering Mr. Walker's classroom, I notice safety goggles lining a shelf on the back wall, and a girl with bright purple hair who's eyeing me strangely. She stares for a minute, then nods. I acknowledge her approval with a quick nod of my own. There is a moment's silence, then I take a seat as more students file into the room. This class is as boring as the others, and I can't help glancing over at Purple Hair from time to time. Mr. Walker wraps up his discussion on lab safety, and we are dismissed for the day. I gather my things and head for the door. A hand on my shoulder stops me. I turn and see a mess of purple hair and an impossibly bright smile. “Hi. I’m Nina.” She holds out her hand, and I shake it firmly. "Oliver. Good to meet you." She studies my face for a moment, then says, "I like the look of you, Oliver. Wanna be friends?" Well, she's straightforward, at least. I adopt a Very Serious expression. "Well, that depends on what kind of trouble you're planning on getting me into. I can't go hanging around with the wrong sort, if you know what I mean." "Hmm," Nina says. "Well, I was going to take you out to a bunch of wild parties and get you drunk, or at least get you to join a gang or something." She can't hold back her grin anymore. "But I guess we'll just have to settle for ice cream at the city park. What do you say to that?" "I say that sounds like fun." Maybe high school won't be so bad. End ~Amber |
| I feel like I had a good idea for this, but it turned out meh. But since I'm nearly out of time, this is what I'm using. Day 13 Prompt: His life's ambition is to have his head cut off and stuck up on a plaque like his mother. Kreacher was a rather curious elf. Or mad as a Hatter, Sirius didn’t quite know which. At night, the old elf would curl up in his nest of blankets in the kitchen, and every day, he wandered through the house, muttering things under his breath about “mudbloods” and “blood traitors and his “poor mistress”. Sirius never understood the crazy obsession with his batty old mother, especially since she’d been dead nearly a decade. It must’ve been something to do with being locked up in Grimmauld Place for so long. Having been a prisoner himself, Sirius had little pity for Kreacher. One night, though, Sirius wandered into the kitchen, looking for a snack, or perhaps just something to do, when he heard something from the cupboard. He crept forward and pressed his ear against the door. “Forgive Kreacher, good Master Regulus. Kreacher has tried and tried, but he cannot do what Master has asked of him.” This was followed by a great deal of noisy sobbing, at which point, Sirius backed away. And really, what was that about? It sounded like the old elf was talking to Regulus, Sirius’s little brother, but the man had been a Death Eater, and he’d died over 15 years before. Maybe Kreacher had just gone mental. After all, Sirius was sure that the most important thing on the elf’s mind was getting his head chopped off and stuck up on a plaque, just like his mum before him. What else could a house-elf care about? Feeling utterly exhausted by all of this wandering and pondering, Sirius decided to head back to bed. The sobs continued to echo through the house, long after its human occupant had fallen asleep. End ~Amber |
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