Thursday, July 16, 2015
Wednesday, July 15, 2015
2 Sentence Story!
I was still up at three o clock in the morning, when I heard footsteps. I was home alone, or so I thought.
22 Screams
When my parents died they left me their huge, old house. It had always creeped me out a bit, but never ever happened. Until one dark, dark night.
My parents were obsessed with art, especially paintings. There are tons of them, up and down the long hallway. Some creepy, others odd. I came home to my lovely house after work. It had been a busy day, so I didn't get home until ten o clock. As I crawled into bed, I heard footsteps and a small shriek. I lived alone. I ignored the strange noises, thinking I was tired, and went to sleep.
At around midnight, I got up to get myself a glass of water. Little did I know that the eyes of a portrait were following me. The painting was of a man named Thomas Dean, a killer from the 1800's. He murdered 22 people in their sleep. It always confused me to why dad had his portrait.
I woke up to another scream. They got louder, and louder. I counted. I had heard 22 screams. Then footsteps, closer and closer. I saw the door handle turn. I ducked under my covers. But it was too late. Thomas Dean had slipped my throat and killed me. 23 screams.
My parents were obsessed with art, especially paintings. There are tons of them, up and down the long hallway. Some creepy, others odd. I came home to my lovely house after work. It had been a busy day, so I didn't get home until ten o clock. As I crawled into bed, I heard footsteps and a small shriek. I lived alone. I ignored the strange noises, thinking I was tired, and went to sleep.
At around midnight, I got up to get myself a glass of water. Little did I know that the eyes of a portrait were following me. The painting was of a man named Thomas Dean, a killer from the 1800's. He murdered 22 people in their sleep. It always confused me to why dad had his portrait.
I woke up to another scream. They got louder, and louder. I counted. I had heard 22 screams. Then footsteps, closer and closer. I saw the door handle turn. I ducked under my covers. But it was too late. Thomas Dean had slipped my throat and killed me. 23 screams.
Writing Camp
Today we wrote warning labels. Mine said, "I am better than all of you." Then, we did poetry slams and I wrote one about my hatred President Snow, and how much I loved Taylor Swift. After that, we worked on our songs and recorded then. Finally, we did our movie and blogs.
Tuesday, July 14, 2015
I Met Taylor Swift!
I got out of bed, not knowing that it was going to be the best day of my life. It was my birthday, so it had to be a great day anyway. I put on my favorite Taylor Swift shirt that had her 1989 album cover on it. I went downstairs, and my family was waiting for me downstairs with a big plate of waffles. "Behind that door, is a HUGE surprise." my father said. I was so eager to find out what is was. "And since its your birthday, we want to make this day memorable." mom said. Go on in. I opened the door, and there she stood.
Her short, wavy blond hair, her blond hair, everything about her was perfect. "Happy birthday Maggie!" she said. I gave her a big hug. She wiped up the tears streaming down my face. "I love your shirt!" she said. "Thanks!" I laughed. We ate waffles together, then opened presents. My parents got me a new phone, Taylor got me backstage passes for her concert, and my brother got me six iTunes gift cards. "Come on! We're going shopping. They closed down the whole mall just for us!" Taylor said.
We hopped in her limo, and drove to the mall. I got everything I could possibly want. It was the best day of my life!
*fan fiction*
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