FREE INK: CREATIVE WRITING

Erica Hemler, Self Portrait

All That Glitters Is Not Gold
by Kelly McMaster

Night falls and the moon’s light shines brightly on the puddle. She runs through the puddle allowing ripples to move. She’s running through the weeds and the grasses, beneath the trees, to the bridge. She’s been running for a while now, extremely tired but not planning to stop.

She turns her head ever so slightly to be sure that she has lost her pursuers, but the movement doesn’t stop her from running. What do they want? She runs under the bridge hoping they aren’t close enough to see her. Street lights flicker over the bridge. She is longing for a break. She has run for quite a while, longer than she’s ever run before. Maybe a little five minute break would help, just to lie down. No, she has to keep going. No matter what, she has to make sure she gets home. Her brothers, what about them? She can’t stop now, not after she managed to get this far. She wipes her eyebrows with her shirt and takes a deep breath. Her feet are throbbing with pain and she wants to stop, but she won’t. Not until she knows that they are okay.

She’s sure it’s them. She’s almost positive. She just isn’t sure why; she never blew their secret. Once she was one of them;...he just didn’t like using her powers around her brothers, but she wasn’t afraid of them. She just didn’t want to fight. That’s why her father hated her. She never liked to fight, she would rather be alone in the forest or on the lake, writing or reading. She hated to have to do the practices, but that was the only way he would notice her. He had said so himself, didn't he?--he always liked her brothers more. But they couldn’t help it. They didn’t have her powers. They would not have to worry about being discovered.

She shakes her head as if it would help ease the pain in her temples. What’s funny is that she never hated her brothers. She never even hated her father. She hated herself, for not being normal. She always blamed herself for not getting her father’s approval. It must have been her fault.

She continues to run, not looking back. Why is she running from them? She could take them both if she chose. Just because she doesn’t like to fight doesn’t mean that she couldn't. At school she was always the strongest. That’s how they found her.

She never let them down, why would they turn on her? She stops at the top of the cliff; she hears them close behind her. That was always a power she actually liked having, acutely sharp hearing. She could hear a pin drop from a mile away, but she had the odd ability of blocking out any sound from anyone. That was nice for when she wanted to ignore someone.

She thinks for two seconds, but no matter what her plan is, she has one right choice. She knows which one she should act on, but all she can think about are her little brothers.

She takes a deep breath, and looks down. The drop looks endless, but she isn’t sure because of the fog. She hears them coming closer. She concentrates on the form of a wolf until her legs twist and bend into hind legs. Her nose elongates and shifts into a snout. Her ears move to the top of her head. Gray and white fur grows all along her body, her teeth become sharp and long. A long fluffy tail emerges from the bottom of her spine.. She has become a full wolf. With a loud howls to the moon, she turns her head. They are closing in behind her.

Looking down, she peers through the mists below. In one fiery moment, she leaps from the edge of the cliff and waits for the foggy depths to take her in to their white lair.

Sharlene Rosa, Self Portrait

Natasha Wolford, Self Portrait

Black Market Blood
by Kit Brink


The beauty queen paints her pink Botox lips


And cries tears from the gummy mascara buttons of her eyes

This is her life.

                                    The nancy boy, with black eyes, applies lipstick to the

                     Cracked and bleeding arch of his wounded mouth, crushed by knuckles,

This is his life.

The blue American boy cries into the sweating curl of his fist,

As they shave his head for combat, American fur falling away,

This is his life.

                                 The ragged mother sighs and combs her scarecrow straw hair

                   While her children, with scraped knees, hold arms agape, craving love,

These are their lives.

The drug addict poses on spider legs, spindle-kneed, bird limbed,

Shivering in the dark of a mirror in an empty house at midnight,

This is her life.

This lifeblood runs thick in the veins of the American,

Glittering dark like oil and ichor,

Bought and sold on dark cold streets with tooth and nail.

Black market blood,

Good to the last drop. 

Again !

by Brandi Smith

He winks and flashes you a smile

The start of something amazing.

The halls are perfect when he is in them

From class to class, there he is

And your life seems somewhat together.

Then...


Summer changes to fall and winter fades in.

Your body is weak and the tears they never stop;

Feelings change and the rage gets stronger.

You feel like you can’t take it any longer.

He ignores you and staggers right by,

As if you never had anything at all.


The halls are dark and your head is low.

The love that was once so strong is now nothing,

And the tears you once cried are all dried up.

Winter fades away and another love is formed

Too bad no one ever told you-- it's going to happen

All over again.


For You
by Hannah Fernandez


For you my friend

My smile will show

For all those things

They'll never know



The tears that fell

Will rest in peace

For you my friend

Please rest in peace



I wish you were that friend

For whom my smile shows

For you are the best that I will know

For you my friend

My smile will show



I wish you could see

All that you mean to me

I came to you with tears

And left you without fears

For you my friend

My smile will show



For you my friend

My smile can't show

For you my friend

The tears shall fall



I came to tell you

That I am sorry

For you made me, me

And I've come to tell you

Thank you for saving me



For you my friend

My smile doesn't show

For you my friend

My heart is done

For all those things

They'll never know. 

Eyes
by Alyssa Kennedy


In his green, hazel eyes I get lost

I see his heart full of love

Through his words I hear his sincerity

Chilvary is never second best in his book

As we speak I'm lost in the conversation

He knows me for who I am

One word and many more follow

It's like we have been best friends forever

Our music links us to the deepest connection since atoms

Our melody rings like the songs we perform--deep, insightful, and colorful

And in the end all I can say is...

Thank You.

Jigsaw Dream
by Brandi Smith


The roof caves in and your life begins to change

Promises are broken and memories are reconsidered

Picture perfect memories scattered all around the floor

Wanting him is no longer an option it’s like a need.

People pass by and everyone looks that same.

You’re reaching for the phone but stop yourself

The gravity is weighing down



You go from happens all the time to not at all

You pull yourself away from the phone,

And move further away from reality

The clock on the wall turns into useless numbers

The stars are no longer what they used to be and the

Moon is nothing unless he is looking at it too

Important people become ordinary



Saying goodbye always seems to be the hardest

But knowing that it was coming made it harder

And what hurts the most is getting up everyday

Knowing that no matter what you do nothing

Will change, you hope and pray but

The end result is always the same.

Sometimes you wish it was

Just a dream.

Christian Conrad, Self Portrait

“Our Familiar Stranger” 
by Kyle J. Keating


My voice as a flaming wick,

To a bomb that would be the thoughts of others.



Take me into the light,

The one that burns my eyes;

Leaving me stranded in the void,

Where I have no control.



Saddened smiles,

And tearful laughs,

A breath choked on once.

Is the last murmur made?



Screams that will never be heard,

And help never received.

Broken hearts and shattered glass,

That’s what seems to be.



Remembering what was forgotten,

Spears to our backs,

As we run away,

Run away from ourselves.



The traitor in the mix

Will always be known

As your worst enemy....

And your enemy is you.