Elvis on Crack
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- Posted: Wed, 07 Mar 2012 00:12:43 +0000
In school we each got a picture from the picture book, Harris Burdick (The Mysteries of Harris Burdick?). Our teacher told us to make a short story out of the picture she gave us.
My picture: http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DGmjKsBO0aE/SklhTdYMKNI/AAAAAAAAEQs/acin1Ke_KvQ/s400/window.gif
My story:
It all began when Henry left the window open and the bird flew inside and stuck itself onto the wallpaper. Henry was dead; he was murdered just last night. It was a cold, lonely day. I walked into my little brother’s room to wake him for school. He was lying on the floor, dead, with bite marks all over him. His off white curtains were blowing in the chilly wind and snowflakes were seeping into his room. The navy blue wallpaper in his room was covered with beautiful white doves, and it was peeling off the wall. I’ve always adored our wallpaper.
I was looking at my little brother’s bed with a frown on my face and tears in my eyes, when I saw something move from the corner of my eye. I yanked my head towards the movement and gasped. A bird on the wallpaper had started to come off the wall! I watched as its wings came out and then its head. It fluttered across the room and landed on my brother’s windowsill.
I don’t know why, but I felt as though I knew that dove. I slowly walked to him with my hand outstretched. I wanted to touch it. I cautiously started to pet the dove, and he let me. He was so soft. I wanted to tear his silky feathers off and cuddle them, but of course I didn’t.
I stared into his foggy eyes and said, “Hello little birdie.”
He cocked his head to the side and looked at me, confused. I smiled at him and tried to pick him up but his eyes turned red and he let out a horrible screech. I screamed and dropped him, he came at me and started to peck me. I looked down at my arm and discovered a trickle of blood dripping to the floor. The dove wouldn’t stop biting me. I ran, screaming down the stairs to my mom, “Mother! Mother! Help me!”
The bird followed me, sharply pecking me as I ran. I tripped over something, I’m not sure what. My breath caught in my throat and I fell, face first into a glass table. The last thing I saw from my own two eyes was my mother’s scared and surprised expression. When I died, my spirit lifted up and into a bird on the wall. I’ve been on the wall ever since, watching spirits float from the dead bodies and then turn into birds, and watching my mother mourn over her two dead children. At least now I can be with my little brother, who killed me just so we could be together.
My picture: http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DGmjKsBO0aE/SklhTdYMKNI/AAAAAAAAEQs/acin1Ke_KvQ/s400/window.gif
My story:
It all began when Henry left the window open and the bird flew inside and stuck itself onto the wallpaper. Henry was dead; he was murdered just last night. It was a cold, lonely day. I walked into my little brother’s room to wake him for school. He was lying on the floor, dead, with bite marks all over him. His off white curtains were blowing in the chilly wind and snowflakes were seeping into his room. The navy blue wallpaper in his room was covered with beautiful white doves, and it was peeling off the wall. I’ve always adored our wallpaper.
I was looking at my little brother’s bed with a frown on my face and tears in my eyes, when I saw something move from the corner of my eye. I yanked my head towards the movement and gasped. A bird on the wallpaper had started to come off the wall! I watched as its wings came out and then its head. It fluttered across the room and landed on my brother’s windowsill.
I don’t know why, but I felt as though I knew that dove. I slowly walked to him with my hand outstretched. I wanted to touch it. I cautiously started to pet the dove, and he let me. He was so soft. I wanted to tear his silky feathers off and cuddle them, but of course I didn’t.
I stared into his foggy eyes and said, “Hello little birdie.”
He cocked his head to the side and looked at me, confused. I smiled at him and tried to pick him up but his eyes turned red and he let out a horrible screech. I screamed and dropped him, he came at me and started to peck me. I looked down at my arm and discovered a trickle of blood dripping to the floor. The dove wouldn’t stop biting me. I ran, screaming down the stairs to my mom, “Mother! Mother! Help me!”
The bird followed me, sharply pecking me as I ran. I tripped over something, I’m not sure what. My breath caught in my throat and I fell, face first into a glass table. The last thing I saw from my own two eyes was my mother’s scared and surprised expression. When I died, my spirit lifted up and into a bird on the wall. I’ve been on the wall ever since, watching spirits float from the dead bodies and then turn into birds, and watching my mother mourn over her two dead children. At least now I can be with my little brother, who killed me just so we could be together.