mad scientist girl

so I know I've been kind of ...not around lately.... I blame Mr. Puddles... (my depression) .. don't ask my why I needed to give it a name... and don't even bother to ask why it's a man. I'm just weird that way, OK? I also blame my teachers... did you know they actually want you to do work for your grades?.. it's CRAZY.. I know.... In keeping with that ... I wrote my latest story for my writing class... and thought I'd post it here for your delight! Outside the window, the city was quiet; like sleeping fairy dust had put everyone in a slumber until it was all over. Just like in the fairy tales; only this wasn’t a story, it was real life. The red, pus-filled wound on my arm was the only sign that I’d been bitten; three days ago, now. This morning, however, I started to notice some disturbing effects after my husband, Gerald, brought me breakfast. He laid my tray of food down on the side table, and I felt a longing to bite into the soft flesh of his neck...

this is my 2nd attempt at a short story.. definitely better than the first. Give it a read, and let me know what you think! This is the story of how I died. It all comes back to one thing, or rather, one person. Collin. It all began with Collin. It was my first semester at university and all my life had been building to this moment. I was a straight "A" student in high school, part of all the clubs: Drama, Yearbook, Student Council, World Involvement, Eco Awareness. I had fully prepared for my first university class with my five pencils all sharpened to the same length. I sat in the front row, because I liked my professor to be aware of how astute I was. I ignored most of the students coming in because I had a feeling it would be like high school. I wasn’t very popular in high school; people were mostly jealous of me. They liked to shun me because I got the best marks and the teachers all liked me. As class began, a young man sat in the row behind me to my right. This is ...

I hope you like it.... this is the story I submitted for my creative writing class. It's not what happened to me personally but it's ...an alternate reality of what might have happened to me after my mum committed suicide. I see this as a "what if"... what if I hadn't had such amazing family that helped and supported me through it... what if I had let myself fall victim to the sadness... what if things had been just slightly different..... so here it is folks.................. *drum roll* She tries to turn her face away as they roll her down the corridor; the bright lights seem more glaring with her tired eyes. If she could only cover her eyes, but the restraints have her hands bound. The pain and sadness within her battles with the embarrassment and humiliation she feels. A single tear breaks free and finally rolls down the side of her face. It tickles her cheek and then pools in her ear; she wishes nothing more at that moment than to be able to wipe i...