SHORT STORIES

Besides the fact that this is very fashionably late, right now (at the time I'm writing this) many of you are most probably either sleeping or getting ready for bed. Yeah, I don't think it's healthy at all to sleep this late but beats me because I haven't slept early since the 1st grade. Even as a kindergartener, I slept at around 9ish-10, which is the time some of you reading this sleep. That's just crazy. I could never sleep early.. ever.
Anyways, back to the point.. SHORT STORIES YAY
I am literally falling asleep as I am typing this so please forgive me I honestly don't even know where I'm going with these short stories but here:
My hands trembled. (They could not stop shaking) as I picked up the pencil to write my name. Alzciria. The disease that I had. It was the disease for abnormal growth, which meant how I looked from day to day was unpredictable and convoluting. One day I could look my age but the next could be all different. Different days showed different symptoms, and today, I was looking 15, but feeling 80. The disease is both internal and external. Scientists had called it the most unpredictable disease of the millenium. It was more of a mystery than cancer, because there wasn’t anything that could even treat it. The most the doctors could ever do is give me some weird vaccines (like for polio which hardly exists) and Advil for whenever I had aching muscles and excessive pain.. My doctors had said that only 1 out of every 900 million people had Alzciria, so it is the rarest disease in the book. How lucky am I to be one of the 900 million? I breathed hard, breaking out into a cold sweat, unable to hear what anything my teacher was saying. I had to improvise. With an insanely painful, aching, trembling hand, I filled in the bubbles to my name and address. I did this last year, so I was pretty familiar with the answer sheet. My hands felt like wet pieces of slitting paper because of the fragility. My body had no choice but to tune out the world in front of me. A low ringing sound developed in my ears and my hands continued to tremble as I slowly filled in the bubbles with searing pain. My body was immobile, and my lips felt too much like jello to speak. The ringing in my ears got louder and louder. Before no time, the sound was screeching at me, louder and louder as if there was a dead creature from hell wanting to rip out my dark soul. “Is this life a curse? Not again,” I thought to myself as the world suddenly spun around, everything around me dark. Faces began to turn into static and clump together like an old TV. I tried to scream out, crying on the top of my lungs, attempting to lash out all of my pain. The world became a dark, dark place, and it was clear to me. It was another episode of Alzciria.

Lights. All sorts of lights, in all different colors. “Where am I?” I thought to myself. “Is this what heaven looks like? Just lights? Or worse, is this the beginning of hell?” Opening my eyes, all I saw were lights and more lights. I couldn’t control my eyes not properly functioning. I tried to say something, but it there was something- a muscle, maybe a particle in my brain that just said no, you’re not going anywhere or saying anything. I tried to breathe, but it was like my body didn’t need the gasps of air I breathed. “This is so strange..am I in an illusional dream?” Suddenly, I tried to open my eyes again and saw colors. Not just light but blobs. Blobs? The blobs were incomprehensible. Nothing made sense. The world spun and continued to even when I was lying hopelessly trying to open my eyes.

SHORT STORY NUMBA 2
September 8th
Dear Diary,
Sometimes I wonder if people would care to think about me for a split second if they found out that I was dead. Given the fact that friends are nonexistent in my world, I wonder if anyone would go to my funeral- aside from my parents… but now that I think about it, I’m not even sure anymore. Let’s just say I’m not the best kid in the world, and I am so glad that they haven’t disowned me yet. Would they rather have me dead so they don’t have to give me their attention and money? They would have more money for themselves which equals a better life.. right? Now I’m sounding completely emo but let me explain myself. I am Isley, and let’s just say that nobody at my school likes me. At all. Wait, it’s not even my school anymore. Allow me to correct myself. Former school. See, everybody hated me so much that I decided that I should really consider transferring. So that’s what I made out my decision to be. I thought about it for most of the summer and I luckily contacted the admissions office for Beacon Hills High School in time for them to accept me as a transfer student. I mean, even as a somebody everyone hated, I had pretty rockin’ grades, which was why they accepted me. I laugh thinking about if only they knew my low social status. My parents were disappointed that I wanted to transfer at first, but they wanted the best for me so they agreed at my decision. So here I am today writing about myself in this new diary I decided to get just in time for a new year. I know it’s going to be a tough year. Junior year. That’s where all the stress is, ugh. Tomorrow I start my first day at Beacon Hills High School. It’s going to be a much different feel, and hopefully people don’t bully me and hate me as much as the people at my old school. I had to deal with their crap for two years! That’s too much. Well, I’m getting tired. See you diary.

Isley strolled down the stairs, dragging her long, blue robe along the staircase. She rubbed her eyes viewing her kitchen. “First day of school.. again..,” Isley said in a monotone as she made her slow way to the kitchen. She tried really hard to sound like she was excited about school because her parents were sitting beside each other by the dining table. Her father was focused on his newspaper, but occasionally he would look up and notice Isley. Her mother did the same, her eyes focused on her husband’s newspaper. Isley walked to the fridge, feeling as if the floor she was stepping on was jello. “So.. tired..,” Isley murmured, half awake. “It should be easier to wake up tomorrow, the 2nd day of school. You’ve got the whole year honey. Now hurry up and eat your breakfast before it gets late,” Isley’s dad said calmly, as if it was any other day. Isley’s dad was a relaxed man. He hardly ever felt nervous about anything, and often times he was the zen to the whole family. He would calm everyone down.

WRITERS BLOCK AT FIRST. So I’m not really sure how to continue and how I want the storyline to be but I do think that I can really develop this character and she can go to the school and build a love life ;) What do you want to happen next?