I know my blog is mostly for my writing career, but I am trying to help a young lady earn some money so she can save some kittens down in Florida. In Florida, since it’s so warm, there are many stray kittens. They don’t get the medical attention or love needed to survive. Please, if you’re able, donate to a good cause. If anything, share.
Here’s the link—> http://www.gofundme.com/ygdh9rk
So far, she has earned $70; me being one of the 2 contributors. Whatever helps!!
It’s that time again for Short Story Saturday. This story is told through the eyes of a teenage girl. Most girls go through that stage of wanting to be perfect and beautiful, even through the eyes of their parents. Tell me your thoughts.
It’s been nearly ten minutes since I entered the changing room at one of the many clothing shops my mother and I stepped into. Four walls securing me with only one exit. In it is a single long mirror and a few hooks on the wall to hang clothes. I stare at the other girl in the mirror, she looks sad and miserable. The outfit she wears doesn’t fit because it’s a size too small. She’s me, locked in the glass with the long, ratty hair. I don’t want to leave the dressing room. I don’t want her to snap at me for gaining weight again. I can’t help that I enjoy the taste of fries and sweets.
The other me looks away, a single hand pressed against the glass while a million questions flood my mind. Why don’t things ever fit the way they should? Why can’t you be more like your sister? Is being beautiful all that matters? Why isn’t being smart enough? Why can’t I be perfect? I can feel my body quiver. I’m taking longer than I should have and now my fear is growing. I don’t want to open that door. I just want to disappear.
“Does it fit?” I flinch at the words coming from behind the door that separates us. I shuffle away from it and change out of the shirt she picked out. She picks all my clothes; I have no decisions in the matter. “If it doesn’t fit then I’m not buying it. I’m not going the next size up.” I feel a tear or two float down my plump cheeks, a sniffle here and there escaping. I bite the inside of my cheek and rub my nose against the long ruffled sleeve. “Try on the pants with the button up.”
I look at the other girl again. Why are you so disgusting? I remove the ugly shirt, putting it back in its hanger and place it on a hook. I change into the clothes she requests simply because if I don’t do as I’m told, I’ll get in trouble. After buttoning up the shirt, I turn to the mirror again. I hate the way I look. With a little courage, I open the door and walk out to show her how it looks. She looks displeased.
“I’m going to have to put you on a diet,” She says with such disgust. Why does how I look bother her so much? She starts to place her fingers into the pants, checking to see how tight they are, tugging on me like I’m a dog on a leash. “Go and change. I’ll just buy this and you’ll just lose the weight.” I want to complain. I want to say I’ll be uncomfortable for the rest of the school year. There is no way I’ll lose any of it.
I walk back into the dressing room, the door shutting behind me as I lock it. I remove the clothes, struggling. I’ll have to deal with them for the rest of the year; nothing fitting like it should. I look back at myself in the mirror; my eyes were red from holding back the tears. I’m not perfect. I’m not pretty. I want to die.
“Imagination is everything it’s the preview of life coming attractions”
I’d like to think that my imagination and the story I’m writing is an attraction that’s in the process of being built. Hopefully, there’s a line waiting to ride my coaster.
Hello. My name is Amanda and my goal is to become a successful, published author. This is my journey up the mountain.
Not quite sure as to how long I’ve been writing, but I can honestly say it didn’t get serious until I started talking about it with a good friend. It has been quite the journey so far, with funny hair mustaches via Skype to a fierce whipping into finishing a chapter. I have not yet finished a full manuscript, but that’s all right because I’m learning new and interesting things each day. My good friend, who is more so my best friend sends or posts a link here and there that is always quite helpful. I make sure to always bookmark each and everyone to refer to it later or when I feel like re-reading it.
I’d say my passion for writing started somewhere in the fourth grade, where we would have to write short stories in a notebook for Mrs. Virtue’s class. I liked the fact that she let our imaginations and creative juices run wild. I can say I filled many notebooks during that year and every year after that. My passion for writing is just as big as my passion for drawing; each hobby letting me create my own world and many different ones that follow after.
In all, I’d love to introduce to the world or whomever my story. If I could, I would share with you what it was about, but I’d like to leave some surprises. I might end up posting a paragraph from each chapter; who knows. For now, I bid you all a good night!