Character Sketch
Behind The Fence
To anyone passing by, she looked as if she had just been a blur; hardly even there. The wavy strands of her chocolate brown hair obstructed the view of the crumbling ground as she hurried past everyone and everything. Hazel eyes filled with tears as they started to slowly descend down her tan skin, speckled with random patterns of the pigmented dots. It was hard for her to dodge past others on the street, her height making it impossible to see upcoming objects in her path. Light brown eyes glued to the ground, she made it a habit to keep her head down, watching the feet of others passing through to plan out her next steps. As the sky behind her was slowing fading from it’s baby blue to different hues of pinks and purples. She made sure to avoid looking over the fence for too long; she’d already faced the consequences of doing so more than once and didn’t need it again. She repeated in her head what she’d been told her whole life: “The fence keeps us safe, it keeps us safe from The Other Side”. Nobody ever went further as to what The Other Side was, just always making sure they knew that it was bad and that nobody should ever get close. Keeping her brisk pace, she pulled her worn hoodie closer to her body in attempt to keep the dropping temperatures from reaching her bones. She could already feel the frigid ground seemingly seeping through what was left of the soles of her boots.
She quietly maneuvered her way up the rotting steps & into the house that was slowly falling apart. As she made her way through the door, she was quiet; listening to hear any sounds that could’ve come from Rian, her brother. She hated when he was here alone, being in the house was like being in a prison. She, first hand, knew how horrible it was to stay in the house alone for longer than 15 minutes. As soon as Rian got home, she had to tell him. The way in which she would tell him had not come to her yet. How was she going to let him know? She didn’t know how she could tell her little brother how she had seen the woman who had abandoned them years before, the woman who left them all on their own, the woman who was once their mother.
To anyone passing by, she looked as if she had just been a blur; hardly even there. The wavy strands of her chocolate brown hair obstructed the view of the crumbling ground as she hurried past everyone and everything. Hazel eyes filled with tears as they started to slowly descend down her tan skin, speckled with random patterns of the pigmented dots. It was hard for her to dodge past others on the street, her height making it impossible to see upcoming objects in her path. Light brown eyes glued to the ground, she made it a habit to keep her head down, watching the feet of others passing through to plan out her next steps. As the sky behind her was slowing fading from it’s baby blue to different hues of pinks and purples. She made sure to avoid looking over the fence for too long; she’d already faced the consequences of doing so more than once and didn’t need it again. She repeated in her head what she’d been told her whole life: “The fence keeps us safe, it keeps us safe from The Other Side”. Nobody ever went further as to what The Other Side was, just always making sure they knew that it was bad and that nobody should ever get close. Keeping her brisk pace, she pulled her worn hoodie closer to her body in attempt to keep the dropping temperatures from reaching her bones. She could already feel the frigid ground seemingly seeping through what was left of the soles of her boots.
She quietly maneuvered her way up the rotting steps & into the house that was slowly falling apart. As she made her way through the door, she was quiet; listening to hear any sounds that could’ve come from Rian, her brother. She hated when he was here alone, being in the house was like being in a prison. She, first hand, knew how horrible it was to stay in the house alone for longer than 15 minutes. As soon as Rian got home, she had to tell him. The way in which she would tell him had not come to her yet. How was she going to let him know? She didn’t know how she could tell her little brother how she had seen the woman who had abandoned them years before, the woman who left them all on their own, the woman who was once their mother.
POV Stories
Version 1 - First Person
It was dark. It had been this way for hours. The strange noises had stopped, leaving an eerie silence. The silence seemed to close in around me and suffocate me in a blanket of darkness. My eyes still hadn’t adjusted to the dark even after the seemingly countless hours leaving me blind and senseless. I could feel the damp, rotted wood underneath me; it made my skin crawl as I guided my hand across it, not sure what I was looking for.
I thought I could hear the sounds of other’s lungs pushing hard to keep them inhaling and exhaling. But then again, it could have just as well been me. Pushing myself to stand, I struggled to find my balance only to see that I was being held back by a cool ring of metal, a snake that had wrapped itself around my ankle. My hand was greeted by the feeling of a wall, extending my arm as far is it could my fingers just barely felt a grimy light switch.
As light filled the room, I squinted, across the room there was someone else cowering in the corner.
“Who are you? Where are we?” My voice was frantic. He looked up, shocked by my voice. He clambered to his feet, also constrained by the cool metal anklet that sat there, chained to a steel pipe.
“Hey! Calm down, there’s now way we’re ever getting out of here with you freaking out like this.”
“Sorry. What’s your name? Do you know how we got here?” He stood there while I continued to scan the room. He never responded to me, I wasn’t even sure he could hear me anymore. His eyes never moved, fixated on the floor while he nervously played with his fingertips.
“There has to be some way out, right?” I kept banging my hands on the cement wall while I looked over every foot of the room, ignoring the chain straining against my bruised ankle.
Click. Our heads snapped up in unison as we finally took note of the small worn out tv in the corner of the room. At first all that showed on the screen was static, but then he appeared. A dark silhouette sat in a rotting chair, never showing his face, judging by his voice, you didn’t want to see it.
“You have 3 hours until the doors will open,” he paused, “Sadly, your oxygen is only set to last for 2 hours.” Our eyes slowly met as our heads raised, those last ten words that had been spoken echoing on a continuous loop inside our heads
Version 2 - 3rd person
The room was still dark when he woke up. As he slowly came out of his sedated state, he seemed to get more & more frantic. His limbs flailed as the sensation of the rotted wood underneath him slowly came to his senses. Arms stretched out, he felt around the floor, as if he was looking for something. He still had yet to realize that he was not alone in the room. Along the opposite wall there was another who had just gone through the same wake a few minutes before.
The metal snake that had wrapped itself around his ankle had just now been noticed, causing the panic to wash over him once again. His breath was jagged and uneven as he let out desperate cries. His pleas for help were quickly dismissed by the stranger sitting in the corner, informing him that it would do no good. That was the last he heard from him, his head hung low as he slowly played with his fingertips.
Their attention was suddenly directed towards a glowing screen that had remained unnoticed until this moment. A voice came through the static as the silhouette slowly began to appear. The chilling words left the two speechless; the doors would open in 3 hours, but the oxygen would be gone within two.
It was dark. It had been this way for hours. The strange noises had stopped, leaving an eerie silence. The silence seemed to close in around me and suffocate me in a blanket of darkness. My eyes still hadn’t adjusted to the dark even after the seemingly countless hours leaving me blind and senseless. I could feel the damp, rotted wood underneath me; it made my skin crawl as I guided my hand across it, not sure what I was looking for.
I thought I could hear the sounds of other’s lungs pushing hard to keep them inhaling and exhaling. But then again, it could have just as well been me. Pushing myself to stand, I struggled to find my balance only to see that I was being held back by a cool ring of metal, a snake that had wrapped itself around my ankle. My hand was greeted by the feeling of a wall, extending my arm as far is it could my fingers just barely felt a grimy light switch.
As light filled the room, I squinted, across the room there was someone else cowering in the corner.
“Who are you? Where are we?” My voice was frantic. He looked up, shocked by my voice. He clambered to his feet, also constrained by the cool metal anklet that sat there, chained to a steel pipe.
“Hey! Calm down, there’s now way we’re ever getting out of here with you freaking out like this.”
“Sorry. What’s your name? Do you know how we got here?” He stood there while I continued to scan the room. He never responded to me, I wasn’t even sure he could hear me anymore. His eyes never moved, fixated on the floor while he nervously played with his fingertips.
“There has to be some way out, right?” I kept banging my hands on the cement wall while I looked over every foot of the room, ignoring the chain straining against my bruised ankle.
Click. Our heads snapped up in unison as we finally took note of the small worn out tv in the corner of the room. At first all that showed on the screen was static, but then he appeared. A dark silhouette sat in a rotting chair, never showing his face, judging by his voice, you didn’t want to see it.
“You have 3 hours until the doors will open,” he paused, “Sadly, your oxygen is only set to last for 2 hours.” Our eyes slowly met as our heads raised, those last ten words that had been spoken echoing on a continuous loop inside our heads
Version 2 - 3rd person
The room was still dark when he woke up. As he slowly came out of his sedated state, he seemed to get more & more frantic. His limbs flailed as the sensation of the rotted wood underneath him slowly came to his senses. Arms stretched out, he felt around the floor, as if he was looking for something. He still had yet to realize that he was not alone in the room. Along the opposite wall there was another who had just gone through the same wake a few minutes before.
The metal snake that had wrapped itself around his ankle had just now been noticed, causing the panic to wash over him once again. His breath was jagged and uneven as he let out desperate cries. His pleas for help were quickly dismissed by the stranger sitting in the corner, informing him that it would do no good. That was the last he heard from him, his head hung low as he slowly played with his fingertips.
Their attention was suddenly directed towards a glowing screen that had remained unnoticed until this moment. A voice came through the static as the silhouette slowly began to appear. The chilling words left the two speechless; the doors would open in 3 hours, but the oxygen would be gone within two.
Poetry Portfolio
Sleep
I like sleep.
It gives me energy.
I like sleep.
It makes me happy.
I like sleep.
It will never fail me.
I like sleep.
Sleep, Pt 2
All I ask about is sleep.
Always asking to sleep.
Anyone allows me to sleep.
Sleep, Pt 3
I love to sleep,
It comes after I count sheep.
Why do I have to be awake,
It makes my heart ache.
Sleep but Not Really
The sun rises,
yet I do not stir.
The clock strikes noon,
think I will get up?
Wrong.
More Sleep
I once went to sleep,
with thoughts of ice cream,
sprinkles and all,
filling my dream.
Although that sleep was deep,
I was awoken with a scream.
For I had a fall,
Because of low self-esteem.
Sleep?
As I let my tea steep,
I fell asleep.
In my dream,
someone told me, “carpe diem”.
And suddenly the kettle went, beep
I like sleep.
It gives me energy.
I like sleep.
It makes me happy.
I like sleep.
It will never fail me.
I like sleep.
Sleep, Pt 2
All I ask about is sleep.
Always asking to sleep.
Anyone allows me to sleep.
Sleep, Pt 3
I love to sleep,
It comes after I count sheep.
Why do I have to be awake,
It makes my heart ache.
Sleep but Not Really
The sun rises,
yet I do not stir.
The clock strikes noon,
think I will get up?
Wrong.
More Sleep
I once went to sleep,
with thoughts of ice cream,
sprinkles and all,
filling my dream.
Although that sleep was deep,
I was awoken with a scream.
For I had a fall,
Because of low self-esteem.
Sleep?
As I let my tea steep,
I fell asleep.
In my dream,
someone told me, “carpe diem”.
And suddenly the kettle went, beep
Unconventional Writing Project
a a
cat cat
meowing in the room
meow meow meow
don’t get the broom
across the room
it goes zoom
it’s
cold, snow
falling everywhere
how is it not break yet
christmas can not come slower
we do not have a snow blower
or a
tree
Pastiche
Alternate Ending to ‘The Oval Portrait”
The painter did not see that the colours he was painting were no longer there in her real face. He was so focused on the painting the he did not even see that she was not even there. There he was, painting the exact features and details all from a memory.
His focus remained on the painting, not a thing could distract him. But there was nothing that was there to distract him.
Intricate characteristics transitioned from just a thought to a beautiful work of art on the canvas in front of him. For days & days & days, he stood there, never looking up once, never having to.
As more weeks passed on, he had finally finished, adding the final touches. As he stood there, his eyes shifted up to look at the woman.
It was then he had realized; she was never even there.
Justification:
I met Edgar Allan Poe’s style by having the last sentence be very unexpected. In the original The Oval Portrait, he ends the story with “She was dead.”, which was very subtly hinted at throughout his writing. Both the original and this alternate ending have a somber tone, there is also a dark, twisted ending in both. Another way I mimicked Poe’s writing is by having not very many complex sentences. Poe wrote The Oval Portrait using lots of short paragraphs; most consisting of only two or so sentences. Also in my alternate ending, I made the painter to seem as though he is mentally unstable. In this writing, I mimicked the repetition that Poe had used multiple times in The Oval Portrait.
The painter did not see that the colours he was painting were no longer there in her real face. He was so focused on the painting the he did not even see that she was not even there. There he was, painting the exact features and details all from a memory.
His focus remained on the painting, not a thing could distract him. But there was nothing that was there to distract him.
Intricate characteristics transitioned from just a thought to a beautiful work of art on the canvas in front of him. For days & days & days, he stood there, never looking up once, never having to.
As more weeks passed on, he had finally finished, adding the final touches. As he stood there, his eyes shifted up to look at the woman.
It was then he had realized; she was never even there.
Justification:
I met Edgar Allan Poe’s style by having the last sentence be very unexpected. In the original The Oval Portrait, he ends the story with “She was dead.”, which was very subtly hinted at throughout his writing. Both the original and this alternate ending have a somber tone, there is also a dark, twisted ending in both. Another way I mimicked Poe’s writing is by having not very many complex sentences. Poe wrote The Oval Portrait using lots of short paragraphs; most consisting of only two or so sentences. Also in my alternate ending, I made the painter to seem as though he is mentally unstable. In this writing, I mimicked the repetition that Poe had used multiple times in The Oval Portrait.