Real Friends_ALTER LIFE_Dawn and Dusk_N O T Y O U B I L L Y
Catalog Guide:
Real Friends
Every Single Day I get bullied by the same girls, I like to call them the Mean Girls. I either get bullied for being too tall, too shy, or too smart. I don’t even know how they are bullying me for being too smart, they are just jealous that I ace every single test and quiz I take. The fact that when they play Truth or Dare outside and get dared to walk up to me or even worse talk to me is sickening. I also sit alone at lunch every day. Sometimes I wish I was homeschooled so I don’t have to interact with anyone and I can just work on my school, but unfortunately, I can’t because my mom works 1...
ALTER LIFE
I knew I had to make this choice, the most difficult yet the most important choice of my life. My mom had tears in her eyes, trembling hands from the tension of taking sides for one of us, me or my dad. Being a stubborn old man, my father stood next to the kitchen door and watched me leave the house. I needed to do something to find myself and explore the outer world without the privileges I was born with and I knew this was it. I had to choose one of the doors, the door to the taxi parked in front of my house waiting for me to get in, to take me one step closer to my dreams, the door to my fr...
Dawn and Dusk
What had happened to her master? This question was the obsession of Thalia’s mind as she watched the sunset fall beneath the horizon. Her name was Verna, and she had come to Thalia at a time when she had lost faith with the world around her. Thalia had grown up in Manhattan and had a nervous habit of letting her thoughts wander from one social issue to the next. Her mother, who saw only what she wanted to see, would always chastise Thalia for the failings she had in school as a result of this. At all of these chastisings would be a further disconnect betwww.onedoor.ccween Thalia and her mother, and Thalia’s...
N O T Y O U B I L L Y
Billy jumped in his skin as the lightning flashed again, illuminating ground-level sculptures of books, hearts and hands, for less than a second. Metallic vases of long-dead flowers cast shadow-fingers against tombstones under the electrical burst.Claire swished her torch from headstone to mossy headstone, pulling her hood tighter round her oval face against the lashing rain. Escaping strands of mousey brown hair stuck to her cheeks like spidery legs, as she strode through the dark in her black, rubber wellies. She crunched along the gravel path, catching glimpses of names and dates as she wen...