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posted by fake_alibi13
I am not sure why I am composição literária this down.I guess I just felt like it, telling my story.It was years atrás and although it was on some papers and local news, the story gradually faded and got forgotten por everyone. Everyone but me, and I know to this dia that what people heard was not the true story.Of course, even then as a small child I knew that telling it would only do mais harm to me than good, I would be called crazy and they wouldn't even try to protect me from something that they would just label the ravings of a demented little girl.
Ten years have passed since, I was a quiet kid, barely six years old and even with my childish mind I knew something was wrong. All kids fear the dark, think that there is some kind of monster hiding under their cama that will grab them if they dare step down at the dead of night, their little hearts racing when they think they saw an unnatural shadow moving with the corner of their eye.However it was different for me, I could always sense a presence, I knew something was there, and it was there for me. From the moment I was born, lurking, watching me and reaching for me, getting closer and closer.But it was about this age that things started getting worse.The shadowy presence watching me started getting a form, making it's way mais and mais from the place of darkness it belonged, to our world.I remember going to cama and hearing strange noises from the hallways, seeing the shadows move, and quickly retreat when I turned on the light, as I was hiding in the false safety created por the little escrivaninha, mesa lamp on my bedstead.They haunted my dreams, turning them into nightmares. After a while I did not see them only in dreams or in the dark of the night, they followed me everywhere as if waiting for me to do something and give them the chance to grab me and consume me, smother me.As all other feelings started giving way to fear, I grew less sociable and mais miserable, getting my parents worried, but they brushed their worries off, blaming the stress of going to elementary school soon, for my change of attitude. One night I woke up only to see a dark figure shaped mais or less like a human, -which was it's only human like feature, standing to the corner of the room. I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again only to see the figure was still there, moving closer to my bed. Terrified I turned the little light on, but the figure remained in place and even though it made no sound I knew what it wanted to tell me,by just looking at it. It was calling me, "Come with us now, we will manage to break through..." ,as if a voice in my head was whispering the words the nightmarish form wanted to say.Then it beckoned to the room and mais similar figures started coming out of the walls and the furniture, the ceiling and the floor.I was paralyzed in fear, clutching my sheets I once again closed my eyes hoping they would go away. Upon opening them, seeing that they were still coming out of the walls and closing in upon me, I screamed. My parents rushed to my room and turned on the lights, the nightmare dissolved in a dividido, dividir second, and I told my parents that the cause of my scream was exactly that, a nightmare. That night I slept in my parents' room and they didn't appear no more.The nights following were almost the same.After all these years I can't make out reality from dreams, and these monsters equally haunted me in both, but I recall screaming and my parents making them go away, as if they were the reason that those things couldn't harm me. One of the nights following I woke feeling a cold touch on my foot.One of the shadows emerging from the floor was reaching out touching me with it's pale ghostly hand.I jolted up bringing my feet to my chest, I tried to scream but no voice came from my mouth.Still I knew, I knew it was not a dream.Without thinking I launched myself from the cama and ran to the door, opened it and started running down the hallway, and even though I did not dare to look back I could sense them coming after me, and now I could hear them, something between an echo and a whisper. I turned right on the stairway that led to our living room, dashing down the stairs and ran for the light switch.I turned the switch only to see it did not work, I ran to the small cozinha only to see that it was the same around the whole house.Back in the living room, still surrounded por darkness I looked around, the shadows were once again forming out of walls and surfaces behind me, surrounding me and I could hear them say "We finally got through...we got you now...". In a last desperate act I made it to the only place I could find shelter from my demons, my parents room.I climbed the stairs panting, drenched in sweat and broke into a last run towards their bedroom.
What followed was a scene out of a nightmare, and it still does not feel real even though I know that it is, and it is probably the only thing there is actually solid proof about.I passed out, thinking that this is it, but woke up later on a stretcher, paramedics and policemen gathered around me, someone must have heard the screams and called them. I remember at some point glimpsing at the mutilated bodies of my parents, I remember the policemen asking questions, and everyone saying it was the work of a psychopath, a murderer.After the fear I had experienced that night however I only remember feeling numb the days following, as I was examined por doctors and psychologists and eventually sent to a new home. My new family tried to help me forget my dark past and soon it all got forgotten, it is over now and I know these people have loved me as if they were my true parents.So I continued living. I also know that the creatures haunting me weren't completely gone, they will never be. They have always been watching me from the shadows but still that night they didn't get me, they were forced back to whatever place they came from.As the years passed, I was hearing of occurrences, little kids disappearing and being found murdered for no apparent reasons, mutilated and deformed, even some people I knew in some instances, a boy from my school, a girl from my neighbourhood, these could only be the doings of a twisted inhuman creature with no other purpose but to find pleasure in murder, in that everyone agreed but they would never know the truth like I do.And these creatures from so long atrás still lived in my nightmares, weak but getting stronger every passing moment haunting me, trying to reach me again.I know now that they cannot be killed and that they won't stop coming after me, since the night they failed to get me I became their curse as they are mine.I have to stop it, before it happens again, before they grow so strong they can come after me again. The kids murdered, it was an act with no purpose but the wicked pleasure of killing, but it won't be long until people close to me will get hurt, I've always known that. Bearing everything I have come to realize these past years, in mind I have made a decision. As I think what I am about to do shivers run down my spine, I keep telling myself it is a necessity, the only way to keep my nightmares away, contained somewhere far from this place but I still get a creepy feeling of thrill and fear at the same time cause deep down I know it is something I wanted to, I have always had since that night. I run my fingers over the cool steely blade of the faca I have clutched in my hand and I shiver.I close my eyes and steady my breathing.Tonight I will once again after ten years foca, selo the door to this other dimension of terror,along with the creatures haunting me, with the blood of the ones who loved me embraced me and tried to protect me from the evil of the world. I can still hear my pursuers screaming, wailing, unable to stop me from taking innocent lives all these years and now unable to stop me as I will close the door to the hell I emerged from behind me.I smile as I slowly climb the stairs, the kids I murdered, they were just little playthings, and the feeling was nothing compared to the twisted excitement I feel now, about to take the lives of people to whom I meant so much, who thought I am an innocent victim in this world.I break into a hysterical laughter just outside my parents' bedroom door as I think that I am the evil they thought they could protect me from...
posted by Dearheart
For Kay, my dear sister in Jesus. May this small tale help to remind you how beautifully and wonderfully made you are in the eyes of the Great Artist.

~~ Beautiful ~~

Once upon a time, not long atrás and not far away, there lived a wise and skillful artist who loved to paint. He delighted in making magic with color and bringing all the imagens he saw in his head to life in his pictures.

One day, he was painting something extra special. His brush dipped in and out of the swirling as cores and flew across the canvas in expert strokes; dabbing here, blending there, moving swiftly in a joyful, marvelous...
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posted by WildCherryWolf
Dear You-Know-Who,


How can you not read my body language? When you present, I barely look up. I barely clap. I barely look at you? And yet, when my friends present, I go wild. I clap, I cheer, I am constantly looking at them. I even think you touched my hair!!!!


I know you were impressed when I rocked up in the multipurpose area covered in blood and bruises. A door hit me, sent me flying into a pole and sent to the cement for goodness' sake! You hung around, I can tell. Yu stayed longer than I expected you to. At least you didn't see me when tears were flooding down my face. Or when I hit the...
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posted by Chaann94
So I came up with this letter-like story. It's based on me and my secret crush. Please tell me if you liked it or not!

Dear you,

From the moment I met you, you were different from all the other people I've met before. Especially the way I felt about you. Sure I've had crushes before, but I act different around you. When you don't agree with me, you ask these perguntas that hurt my feelings. You make those comments that make me feel bad and make me want to cry mais than I want to laugh. Normally I would have broken off contacts with a person like that long before he or she would have gotten so...
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posted by rebaj2010
love. what does it truley mean? being in amor is simpe, anyone can convence themslves they are in love. being in amor is when you feel something for one person mais strongly than you feel for another. but amor is something elsa all together. amor is when you cant convience yourselve you amor someone, but when you try to leave something tells you no, stop and think. and when you do think the reason is blantint. amor is when you think your done, done fighting and done lieing, but than it hits you that without all of that you wouldnt be the person you are, and they wouldnt be the one you love....
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composição literária A Great Book Doesn’t Mean It Will Sell por Jennifer Brody via Filmcourage.com.
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added by BennieBear27
Source: Me
Character Archetypes In YA Fiction por Jennifer Brody via FilmCourage.com.
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4 Main Tools Screenwriters Use To Keep The Audience Engaged por Chapman universidade Professor Paul Joseph Gulino via FilmCourage.com.
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composição literária A Horror Protagonist por Daniel Stamm via FilmCourage.com.
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added by ZekiYuro
conselhos To Beginning Screenwriters por WGA West President Howard A. Rodman via FilmCourage.com.
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added by sourav115
posted by LaughingHyena
Some aleatório little piece of prose composição literária I did last ano on a teens composição literária website, hope you like it.:)

They are everywhere, these birds. They hobble, strut, and flutter around the town, weaving in and out of the shoppers, darting in between clumping feet to snatch crumbs and bits of crisps among the blobs of chewing gum and cigarette ends on the wet cobblestones. The people don’t care. The pigeons don’t care. Both species living their separate lives in a man-made environment where man and bird are equal. They are the colours of the town; grey, dull brown occasionally, dappled with factory-steam...
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posted by para-scence
"I still remember the world from the eyes of a child. Slowly those feelings were clouded por what I know now..."



I sat there in the police department, swinging my legs back and forth high above the floor. I was wearing my favorito purple dress and my borboleta sandals. My dark brown hair was in a high ponytail and it bounced as I looked both sides. Where was Mommy? Carmine and Reed sat seguinte to me there, and they were not happy. Carmine, twelve at the time, had tears coming from his eyes. Reed, fourteen, had his face in his hands, so I couldn't see what he looked like. Soon I got sick of waiting...
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