Taking a deep breath, Lillaya let out a long sigh. She wasn’t sure she was ready for this. Standing in front of the full length mirror in her dorm room, she couldn’t help but preen. It had all come together better than she could have ever expected. The [url=http://oi42.tinypic.com/1zptnrt.jpg]lavender[/url] strapless ball gown, with a sweetheart neckline, fit her like a glove. Better than any other dress she could have picked out herself. “I think I’m going to have to thank the Headmistress.” She mused smiling to herself. Making a note to thank Professor Emory for helping her pick out the dress, she grabbed all the fun little accessories to with her dress. Slipping the wand holster onto her right leg, she made sure it was tight enough to stay but not so much as to bother her. A giggle escaped her lips as she repeated the motion for the left leg, and slipped a small flask into the holder.
It only took a moment for the 7th year to put her shoes on, and to put on her dangling earrings on. Excitement rushed through her as she looked at the finished pictured she created. Her curled hair...
In the days leading up to her graduation, she was so excited about receiving her diploma for her academic accomplishments, even though she hasn’t accomplished a lot in life by experiencing a little bit of it. She felt like the birthday girl with her pretty dress, beautiful hair, and the presents she received from Uncle Willie and her mother. She felt like it w...
She wore her professional white socks and saddle oxfords, and that bright pink frock with the square throat; a splash of jaded lamplight brought out the golden down on her warm brown limbs. There she sat, her legs carelessly highcrossed, and her pale eyes skimming along the lines with every now and then a blink. (138)
Her mascara smudged onto the fabric as a tear fell down her cheek onto the fluffy white pillow. Her headphones rested in her ear playing songs that held many memories of the recently broken up couple. The song that her and the short, blonde, and shy soccer player had slow danced to, played on her ipod. The memory of their slow dance at the valentine ball replayed in her mind as if she were still in the moment. She replayed how he asked her to the dance with a valentine gift- a box of conversation hearts. They met at the school to go to the dance and he gave her the red and yellow ticket. She was dressed in a pink and grey sweater and the gym was warm with all of the middle school students combined
Ms. Kelli Rollins was a beautiful person, inside and out. Being only about five foot four, slim build, and young looking with her big brown eyes and welcoming smile, it was hard to tell her apart from her students at just a glance. But her age and work appropriate wardrobe, that still managed to be totally fashionista perfect, helped her keep a manner of professionalism when working in the classroom. Doubling as a teacher as well as part of Paragould High School alumni also made her seem even more oddly fascinating since none of us ever wanted to come back after graduation. Or so we said.
And then there was her appearance. Mary Beth’s gangly body towered over the other fourth graders, and her lemon-blonde hair rested on her shoulders in knotted clumps. Strands of hair constantly fell in front of her face, and she would constantly sculpt them behind her ear.
She quickly finished cleaning and went to bed to get some rest, as she lay in bed she turned on her phone and could see that her social media accounts were blowing up with the search for the mystery senior that had Tristan going crazy. The minute that he posted a tweet that said he had her cap almost everyone in the entire school had replied saying it was theirs. This made Armani laugh and thinking nothing of it she replied with a comment “wonder who’s” with that she went to
She realized that she had power as a student. She ran, as fast as she could, up the stairs, through the doors that lead to the eighth floor. Kyla ran with confidence, and the frown that was once on her face evolved into an expression that showcased her determination. With the help of her speed and excitement, her tears dried and her frown disappeared. Bursting through the doors of the principal’s office, she gave a quick rundown of every offensive incident from the beginning of the school year to today’s. Her mouth moved faster than anatomically possible; she stumbled over her words, but not enough to the point in which her speech could be misunderstood. Coincidentally, the friend got up from the commons area and also went to the principal’s office only a few minutes thereafter. The two sat harmoniously sat together, doing the right thing. After telling her story, she realized that she should’ve advocated for herself earlier on—leaving the office, she proudly looked back at the principle before crossing through the doorframe that led to the commons. Turning forwards, she thought about how she would tell her story once more. She wanted to tell everyone, but she just didn’t know
The small legs that whisked back and forth in the open space of the vehicle were full of energy. The young girl spent the day with the two people she admired the most. A bigger version of herself sat in the passenger seat with her husband driving next to her. They laughed over conversation. Every so often, the girl would stick thin fingers against her mother’s shoulder to receive her attention. She would say something trivial and obvious, but her mother would still entertain her. She absorbed every phrase her daughter said as if each filled her with a tremendous joy and was the greatest thing ever spoken. Her mother had selected a black dress for her today with a large white ribbon tied around her midsection. Her hair had been combed back in two braids so that the tips were touching her shoulder blades. They were coming home late from a Christmas party at church.
She was standing by the closet slowly picking out her outfit for the day. “Sorry, but I don’t feel like being a bum for three months,” She said. I could hear the snottyness in her voice. Slowly I pushed the blankets down and crawled out of bed. Not a very good start to my summer. Groggily, I got dressed and trudged to the kitchen to get some breakfast. I guess I
The night before, I didn’t practice my English so I knew what to say. By now, I knew most of the words, so I would just let my heart guide me. Besides, my cramped old house, which is actually just a junky garage in an abandoned alley, is too small to let out my feelings. Once I got to school after a cold walk in the snow, I placed myself by her locker and waited. Fourteen minutes had gone by, and still no sign of Lily. I only had a minute to get to class now, so I hurriedly collected myself and ran to my locker. I was disappointed, knowing that without Lily here, it would be the hardest day of school. I opened my locker and to my surprise a note fell to the floor. I quickly picked it up and gazed at the neat handwriting that clearly spelled my name.
Curling her eyelashes and applying foundation. Winging her eyes with liquid liner, painting her lips with a blood red lipstick, it was very noticeable with her fair skin, which was what she was aiming for. She woke up extra early to adorn herself with these accessories. A young woman, about thirteen or fourteen, getting ready for school. It was just another day in school but the young woman wanted to do this, for herself. She was taking a big risk; she would learn the hard way.
"And this is the library," the principle droned. I kept standing on my tip toes and then went back to standing flat on my feet. "Books can be checked out for 3 weeks before becoming overdue. You are welcome to come here during lunch and after classes." he continued. I spotted this girl with black hair and bright blue ends. Wicked! I thought, I had always wanted bright blue hair but my mom wouldn't allow me. She liked my golden hair, I have no idea why. I walked over to the girl. "Hello! My is Anya," I began excited, "Who are you?" I asked. I noticed a girl who was standing next to the girl with sick hair turn around. The girl had very pale skin, and cool, mint green eyes. I wonder if she's a vampire? If she is, I so want her turn
"You must wake up, Princess." Bridget, Odette's handmaiden, gently shook her shoulder. "Oh, I see a smile. Princess, are you pretending to sleep?" She chidded, giving the princess a poke on the nose. Bridget had been like a mother to Odette ever since her mother had passed away. "No." She replied, with a giggle. Bridget stood back, placing ehr hadns on her hips. "Now. You behave like a princess and get up." Odette opened one eye and looked her handmaid. "I don't want to go." She whimpered, hoping her sweet maid would take pity on her and let her fake having chicken pox. She didn't. She let out a huff of frustration and hurried over to Odette's closet opening it to reveal the billions of glorious dresses. SHe was clucking her tongue as she scanned them. Odette sat up and rubbed a hand over her eyes. "Bridget?" She said, softly. The hand maid stopped her clucking and turned around to face the princess. "Yes?" She watched as the child infront of her bit her lip and her troat bobbed as she swallowed. "Have you ever been inlove?" She asked, her tiny fingers reaching up to play with the end of her braid. Bridget had to look back to the dresses when she replied. "Yes, Princess. I
Her hands shake as she places her size 6, custom crafted, pale pink ballet slippers next to an ancient off white folding chair. The dull chair moans and groans as she rests herself upon the antique. She tucks a few lose wayward strands of hair behind her left ear. She wipes her small hands on the thighs of her tights as she leans forward. She rolls her head back on her shoulders, stretching the muscles in her long, lean neck. She rolls and shrugs her tiny shoulders forward and...
...at night, I loved my hair, every single strand of it. I loved her ability to be straight or curly, sleek and sexy or fun and bouncy. I found myself brushing my hands through my hair, and she cherished the affection. I bought every hair product Pamela used in my hair, hopeful I could shape my hair myself. And, although it took a few weeks to learn Pamela's styling techniques, my hair and I quickly found a rhythm.