Hard-boiled Fiction

The storm was just beginning as Delilah entered the room swaying her trying to gather all the attention in the room. Her face frozen almost emotionless except for a slight air of mystery that she held in eyes. She wasn’t like other girls.  She had tightly curled hair but short make her stand out from the others. She looked natural except for the bright crimson lipstick upon her lips.  Every man wishing she was walking over to them but I knew where she was heading and it was straight to me. Instead of feeling like the luckiest made in the room I felt like someone had left me a burden. She giggled to me I knew this was her trick and pouted her lips a little, any other man would have opened their arm to let her fall into them. Her hand touched mine, it was cool, I was surprised. Her red hot appearance contrasted with her cold body as if her appearance was her way for hiding her emotions. I don’t know what came over me but I wanted to hold her hand, so I did. She lead me out of the room, I felt every man’s eyes on me. I should feel lucky but I know this could only end in trouble.

How To Make Flamingo Soup!

How to make flamingo soup

Ingredience:

1.Flamingo

2.Soup

Method:

1.Steal flamingo from flamingo land

2.Get band from flamingo land

3.Get home and hope for no fine

4.Put flamingo in pan

5.Put soup in pan

6.Make sure its the same pan

7.Leave for 20 minuets

8.Go and check soup

9.Realise you havent turned stove on

10.Cry

11. Compose yourself

12. Put stove on

13.Leave for 20 minuets

14.Forget about suoup because you are too busy watching bi8g rich texas

15.Cry

16.Compose yourself

17.Eat burnt flamingo and evapourated soup

18.Repeat when you want flamingo soup

My life in a box

Hi,

So for school we had to write a poem called a renga which focuses on the amount of syllables in each line it goes a pattern of 5,7,5 then the next stanza 7,7, then back to 5,7,5 excetera. It had to writtenn about a box that you are emotionally connected to I chose my memory box because it tell the story of my life so i'm pretty sure I am emotionally connected to it. My poem is abit random but maybe you like it.

Yellow box sat on 

a shelf holding memories.

My entire life

in a box. Some are happy,

Some are sad, some old, some new.

The highs, the lows and

everything inbetween

from fun holidays,

bike rides with my grandad and 

many adventures we shared.

Presents, photos, shells

letter I may never send

and many secrets.

This box tells the story of

my crazy, exciting life.

Thanks for reading

Devon

x

One Dusk Evening

This story was written for school with the stimulus of the gothic genre, it's not very good but I hope you like it 

It was a dusk evening in october and the sun was just abou to set as i walk alone, barefooted toward the ruins of the old church. My torn clothes claw on my tired body I stagger closer in the the unkown darkness that is forming before me. I stand in the graveyard detatched from the rest of the world. The rain hitting my body and creating a muddy grond beneath me. I carry on walking until i reach the bundle left for me. After looking around for anyone in the presence I quickly grab it. I hold it close to my chest and run. Run through the mud and past the church, then i reach my home. Cold, i huddle next to the acient raging fireplacr and unwrap the package. Delighted I smile.