Some Writing From a Long Time Ago

This is a piece of writing that I did in primary school, and I'm fairly sure that I haven't worked on it since then. There are actually two versions of it. I'm going to put the first version in this post, because it's shorter and I think it's the better of the two. In the second story, the first paragraph is the same (it's a prologue) but then there is Chapter 1 and Chapter 2, which aren't as good as the second paragraph of this version. I realise that it overuses adjectives and adverbs etc. but it's quite fun, and as I was between 9 and 12 when I wrote it, it's actually quite good in the grand scheme of things, or at least I always thought so. Enjoy, ♥Nancy♫

The brilliant white stallion rose upon his strong hind legs, and he called to the mare as the treacherous waters lapped at her hoofs. Many equilibristic worms tried to bite the mare’s feet as she jumped to avoid the harsh salt water. Suddenly, the stallion plunged into the deep waters, and swam with all his strength and courage to the little island where the mare was. Avoiding the poisonous sea worms, he urged her around them and swam with her as they struggled to reach the shore. The cuts that ran all down the mare’s side sent streaking rays of blood into the dark stinging waters. It attracted a ravenous shark, which snapped the horse’s heels as they ran up the beach. Swiftly they galloped; going as fast as their weak legs could take them. Cyclonic winds pushed them back, but they could not stop until they reached the safety of the herd. Suddenly a wolf let out a piercing howl, which could mean only one thing – it was ready to hunt. On and on they ran, made hasty by the approaching danger. They entered a familiar rocky valley; the sweet smell of grass and other horses slowed them down, yet the cry of a hungry wolf still hung in the air. A snapping of teeth stopped them in their tracks. Wolves growled all around them and the stallion called to the mare, as if saying, “Go, you must save yourself.” So the mare ran off, leaving the stallion to handle the wolves. Hours later, the wolves, already weak from hunger and now weaker still from injury, left the dying stallion and went to find another helpless creature for prey.

It was many moons before the mare saw her rescuer again, and even then, she wished she hadn’t. The mare, whose name was Gentle Heart, stood on the top of High Cliff. She looked out over the beautiful country. She thought that nothing could ruin her euphoric feeling – after all, just one moon ago she had brought a healthy new colt into the world. But she was wrong. The sound of wolves howling drew her attention into the valley. She saw Swift Foot rear up, and struggle against them. But the wolves were too strong, and too many. Gentle Heart watched as the wolves tore at his flesh. She rose up onto her strong hind legs, and called out. But there was nothing that any animal could do. Shakily, she walked but down to where the herd was grazing. She told Night Rider what had happened, and she, in turn, told Black Skies. Black Skies was the exact opposite of Swift Foot. Of course, he had the speed and the strength, but he was a cruel horse. He thought only of himself. But now that Swift Foot was dead, Black Skies would be the leader of the herd. Gentle Heart realised that the herd was no longer a safe place any more. Swift Foot had always kept her safe, but his death meant that an unwelcome change was on the way.

Bacon Sandwich

Subtitled: Or A Slightly Philosophical Discussion between Two Guys...
Exclusive foreword by the author: So, this is just a snippet of writing. A lot of you have read it already. It's just short and sweet, kind of a lighthearted look at an issue that could be taken more seriously. Enjoy! ♥Nancy♫
P.S. Do you think I should share this in my creative writing class?
Disclaimer: Viewpoints presented by characters in the following snippet of writing do not necessarily represent the views of the author.

Ben slowly picked up his bacon sandwich from the china plate it lay on and lifted it to his mouth, about to bite.
‘Hi.’ Ben looked up at the sound of his friend’s voice.
‘Hi. What’s wrong?’ Perhaps it was from being best mates for years, but he had this uncanny way of always knowing when something was wrong. And the look on Tom’s face indicated that something was indeed very wrong.
‘Sammi’s pregnant,’ he said, flatly.
‘Huh?’ He put down the sandwich. He’d been looking forward to it all day, and now it was being ruined by a crazy story about Tom’s girlfriend.
‘She’s knocked up, expecting, bun-in-the-oven. There is a baby growing inside Samantha.’
‘Actually, it’s probably nothing like a baby yet. It’s probably just a bunch of cells that are all growing and dividing and stuff and will eventually turn into a baby.’
‘Ben! God, my girlfriend’s pregnant and you’re giving me bio tutoring? Come on man.’
‘Ok, wow, I didn’t think you were serious,’ although really he still didn’t.
‘Would I joke about something like this – don’t answer that,’ he added, before Ben could, ‘my girlfriend is pregnant. Samantha is pregnant.’ For the first time, he began to believe his friend; a belief based wholly on the heaviness of his final three words.
‘Oh. Oh. Ok.’
‘That’s all?’ cried Tom, getting hysterical. He was such a sissy sometimes it was hard to see what Samantha saw in him.
‘Ok, hold on. I need processing time.’ He paused, thinking. ‘What’s she gonna do?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, is she going to keep it? Get rid of it? Have it and then give it up for adoption?’
‘She wants an abortion.’
‘But?’ Ben looked at Tom. ‘Come on, finish your sentences dude.’
‘I don’t want her to have an abortion.’
‘So? It’s her prerogative.’
Tom sat down on the chair next to Ben. ‘I know that. I’ve always known that. I even used to agree with that.’
‘But now… don’t touch that,’ Ben said, as Tom reached for the bacon sandwich.
Tom stood up again to get a knife out of the drawer as he answered. ‘Look, I never considered abortion to be wrong or anything before. I’ve always been pro-choice and I even went with Marg to a few of those pro-choice rally things.’ His ex-girlfriend, Marg, happened to be Ben’s sister. She was – now – a stereotypical feminist and had left Tom for her best friend – a girl named Sofia who had pointy ears like a pixie, who was, apparently, better in bed than any man she’d ever been with.
‘But,’ Tom continued, chopping the sandwich in half despite Ben’s protests, and sitting back down, ‘it’s a completely different thing now that it’s my baby in the question.’
‘In the uterus actually,’ Ben said, helpfully.
‘Doesn’t it become a womb when it’s got a baby in it? God, who knows? Anyway, now that we’re talking about my baby being sucked out of her and just flushed away or whatever, I’ve actually gone a bit pro-life.’
‘And what does Sammi say to this?’ Ben picked up his half of the sandwich, trying not to feel as though something was missing, when in fact half of it was.
‘It was something along the lines of “I’m the one who has to carry and give birth to this stupid baby if I keep it, so I’m having the goddamn abortion, you effing bastard.” So clearly I’ve got every chance of convincing her otherwise.’ He had his moping face on and was starting to sound a bit whiny.
‘Look, you’re too young to be a father anyway.’
‘Yes, yes, I know. And she’s too young to be a mother.’
‘But more importantly,’ Ben said quickly, before Tom could launch back into more “but it’s my baby” arguments, ‘has she told her brother yet?’
Tom looked shocked. ‘Damn, I hope not. I’m dead if she has. He didn’t even know we were sleeping together.’
‘How’d she even get pregnant? I mean, you guys were being careful and stuff, right?’
‘Of course – I didn’t exactly want this to happen. Although about a month back we got really drunk at Tania Smith’s party. So maybe… I don’t know.’
‘So then how do you even know if it’s yours?’
‘Well, the next morning we found her panties attached to my belt buckle, and neither of us could remember how they got there.’
‘Not exactly proof though, is it?’
‘We were naked in my bed.’
‘Getting better, but still…’
‘It’s mine, Ben. Sammi’d never cheat on me, and being drunk that night would only make me more likely to beat up anything who tried to hit on her.’
‘Sucks to be you,’ Ben said, unable to think of anything else to say.
‘D’you think she’d marry me? I love her enough. Should I ask?’
‘Not yet mate. I think you need to get drunk and have a cry first.’
‘That sounds really gay.’ Tom finished his half of the sandwich. ‘Got anything to drink?’

My One Attempt at Poetry, For Your Enjoyment

I am not a poet.
A writer, yes, most definitely.
An author, maybe not yet, but I will be.
But I'm not a poet.
Nevertheless, I have delved into the realm of poetry once or twice, and the following poem is the best of my poetical works. Enjoy! ♥Nancy♫

Rain...

Have you ever lain
on the grass in the rain
getting wet wetter wettest
as water seeps beneath
your arms your back your thighs
freezing off your fingers
and your toes
and washing worms up to the surface
so they slither and they slide
trying to hide and you hope that they’ll survive
but that’s not what’s on your mind
‘coz you just can’t help but notice
that the colours are more vibrant
when you view them through the rain drops
even though the day is dark and grey and gloomy
all the water
makes the world look sparkling bright
and warm even though
you could be getting frostbite
‘coz the ground’s so cold
but that’s okay
it feels so very natural
like you’re one with all
and all is one with you
because you know you are surrounded
by rain air mud and light
and all the things that make the world up
and it just feels right
to be laying on the grass
in the rain
?

Just a Paragraph of Prose

Exclusive foreward by the author: This is "Just a Paragraph of Prose," which takes its title from the fact that it is, in fact, just a paragraph of prose. It's melodramatic, a little (okay, a lot) cliched, but still fun to write. Enjoy! ♥Nancy♫

P.S. The male character has no name, but the female is called Pippa - it was the first thing I could think of at the time and nothing better has come to me yet.


"Don't you understand? There's no one left for me now, no one in all the world."
"Yes there is."
She turns to face him, eyes red and cheeks tear-stained, hair blowing wild in the wind.
"Who? Who is there for me? Name one person who cares for me."
"Me. I do, Pippa."
"You? Why would you care about me? I'm naught but a spoilt rich girl, and I have lost everything."
"But you have me. You mean the world to me."
"Why do you do this to me?" she pleads, wiping rain from her face. "Why are you stopping me?"
She takes a step backwards towards the cliff edge.
"Pippa, don't," he says, warning and begging simultaneously.
"Why?"
She takes another step back. He pauses, floundering helplessly for words. He knows he needs the right words. She steps back again; she loses her balance and begins to fall, but suddenly his hand is on her wrist.
"Because I love you," he says.
He pulls her onto solid ground once more and into his chest, holding her more tightly than he has ever been able to before.
Lightning flashes, brightening up the night scene. Then his lips meet hers and they kiss in the rain, in the storm, on the edge of a cliff that she would have jumped off.
"I love you," he says into her ear, "you have me."
He is relieved because he has saved her; he is relieved because he has her now.
But she steps back.
"You're too good to be wasted on me," she says.
And she turns and runs over the cliff before he can grab her. And then it's over. Her life, their love and his sanity.
Moments later, a second body goes over the cliff. His anguished cry is lost in the wind.