The Busy Over Gate_Meeting myself_A Different Path_Little Princess
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The Busy Over Gate
That's the thing about this city, there are millions of tourists coming to this city but they're never allowed to enter just one street. There are many hwww.onedoor.ccouses and people in the street but when someone calls to them they seem as if they can't hear and they continue their work. As of this reason this street is named as 'The Busy Over Gate. ' This street is separated from the others with a tall gate. If you go and touch it at around 12:00 noon it'll burn your hands. The sides have a huge wall covered with ivory. Scientists and researchers come to explore but they never come back. However, there a...
Meeting myself
Title ; meeting myself Angeline!” The guards heeled as they chased me around the castle. I ran as fast as I could in high heels and Avery tight corset, jumping the stairs as it would take too much time to run them. You're probably wondering why I’m running. Well let’s just say that the queen, my dearest mother, didn’t like that I tried to blow up her dinner party. See the princess life was never for me, I was always in trouble but this time “was the last straw”, like she hasn’t said that forty times. Whatever back to running.I hid behind one of the corridors and watched as the guards ran righ...
A Different Path
A Different PathBy: Hareem Akhtar“Bye, mom! And yes, I will be back before dinner.” I rolled my eyes as I swished out the front door. I stopped right at the entrance of the bright yet dark woods and took a deep breath, ready for another walk that would freshen me up for the day. Only this time, I would take another route. I always end up getting scared to steer off the trail, but today I gathered up the courage to finally explore the woods rather than take a walk on the path weaving in and out of the forest. As I stepped onto the dusty trail leading de...
Little Princess
( I accidentally posted this to the wrong prompt it meant to be for the “Write a fairy tale about an outsider trying to fit in” prompt)Her story lay gilt in goldHer eyes were as beautiful as a fresh cut roseShe had no heart with which to knowBut she knew with all her soul she hated the coldShe was a strange girlBorn of an age long agoA history of winds and curlsAnd a memory as faded as a photoThey say that once she shone like the starsThat her heart was kind and softThen the darkness cameAnd took her dreams aloftA war of blood and broken bones did comeThe girl of roses could only weepShe did n...