Creative Writing: Stabville Storm

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It felt as though it was just yesterday the storm had embraced the young isolated girl, the fight to continue and urge to achieve her wishful desires. She slowly moved dragging her feet across the paved ground as she pulled herself up from the bench she had been sitting upon and walked to the clusters of ornate stones framed by the dead and luminous dark trunks that were dressed in excessive foliage just across her. Her feet drummed with the intensive fear that seemed to circulate around her body as she forced herself to glance upon a stone that seemed to have sunk into the shaved ground, approaching in a solemn respectful manner the girl managed to stand rooted to the spot. Eyes lowered and her head tilted amidst the silence as the girl continued …show more content…

how many times have I told you to stop visiting the woman’s grave?’ A monotonous voice bellowed as a morning greeting to the figure that’s peeled skin baked in the sunlight. ‘Amelia Thompson you obnoxious young lady, haven’t you got anything to do all day than sit around in mere absence admiring a piece of meaningless rock. I have tried. I have to try and evoke you correctly to living as a part of the society of Stabville. You are not helping.’ The woman sighed, as water poured down her reddened face, her muscular attachments that served as arms banged against her slightly curved hip as she managed to hide nauseous drips of water that descended from her cloud blue eyes. She let the air seep from her lungs again as she stared in irritation at the girl whose open eyelids glanced at the pitiful women in front of …show more content…

Her eyes shifted as her hands acquired to feel the essence of the blanket of carefully dressed pink velvet that covered the book, she stared at it and smiled a painful smile as she embraced it to her chest. It was all she had to talk to apart from her grandmothers grave, none of the other townsfolks cared about the teenager that now stood blinking at the tombstone as she sat cross legged and allowed her brain to be pounded with magical thoughts of diversities and unions of human connections. ‘I must leave’, the girl whispered out of the corner of her mouth as she pulled herself away from the graveyard and soon found herself alone on the road at the passing of a couple of