Samantha M10A Creative Writing

I have been intensely interested in the show Bates Motel, and the original movie Psycho by Alfred Hitchcock, which it is based on. The show ended in a different way than I had hoped, so I thought it may be fun to take on this experiment and end it in the way I wanted it to end. Romero begins walking up the massive staircase. His hands start to shake as he approaches the front door. Memories of joy and sadness begin to overwhelmingly rush to him. He remembers carrying Norma up these steps the day they got married, walking up them with her with groceries, listening to her talk on and on about the motel patrons, and he remembers carrying her down these steps the day of her death. He knows that no one is home, but he still gets anxiety as he opens the door. Everything in the house looks exactly the same. The furniture is in the same place. Even the photos and knick knacks look just as they did when Norma was still alive. The only difference was that the once immaculate house was now dark...

my mom always looks to the past reminiscing on events feeling sad for the things we never had but I know that is silly how can we learn grow and move when we are always looking back my dad always looks to the sky wondering why, why does he have it so hard but I know that is stupid for the sky cannot tell us why anymore than you, or I, or god my sister always looks to her kitchen for she knows if she cooks and cleans and is a mom she is doing a good job but I know thats too simple for there is much more to life than a house and kids and soup in a pot we all look to something for fulfillment, for answers but what will I look to?

I never got around to posting this when I made it, but alas, here it is! I have always been very interested in prison movies and shows so in the beginning of the semester I thought it would be cool to write my own prison story. Fairly quickly, I found it to be extremely challenging to make it sound like it was a realistic encounter rather than from the imagination of a young girl in her twenties, such as myself. I wanted to base the story from the Father's perspective, who was incarcerated. I tried writing about his daily life before he got incarcerated (him looking back at his family) and his current daily life struggles. He ends up spending most of his free time in the third floor library, reading as many books as he can to escape his turmoil. Here is where I started with it: The sunlight shines through the blinds awaking me to the smell of eggs and bacon in the air. It is Sunday morning, my favorite day of the week. It is the day of the week I get to sleep in,and  I get to spe...

I sat in a little ball with my arms around my knees, holding them as tightly and as close to my chest as I possibly could. I could hear the fighting, the screaming, the gunshots in the distance, but I was supposed to wait here. So I waited. I kept tapping my foot incessantly. As I sat awaiting my doom, our doom. My back was against a big oak tree. There were hardly any leaves on the tree, there were only a few that had not fallen yet. I looked up at the sky and saw clouds of smoke. Even in the dark they were visible. I had a large gash on my knee from my fall earlier today. It was starting to scab, so I started to pick at it. It helped relieve some of the anxiety I was having. A small amount of blood started to ooze out from the spot of the scab I had just picked. I watched the blood begin to slither down my leg. The gash didn't even hurt. Through all that I had endured these past two months it almost felt enjoyable, therapeutic even. This was the least amount of pain I had felt i...

I often stress about life, the past, the present, the what ifs of the future. Am I pretty enough? Am I skinny enough? Am I kind enough? Am I witty enough? Am I sexy enough? Am I smart enough? Will I move like I want to? Will I graduate school? Will I ever find a lasting love? Will I ever get married? Will I get divorced? Will I get a good job? Will I be homeless? Will I be a loser? Will I ever have kids? Will I be a good mom? Will I travel the world? Am I a good friend? Am I a good partner? Will I be happy? And then I remember just as quickly as I forget : I am the driver and I can drive anywhere I want to in my life. I choose whether I want to be happy, I choose my partner, I choose my career, I choose whether I move, or travel, I choose how I feel, I choose my life, no one else. I am an adult now and I am creating my life. I don't have to sit in the backseat anymore.

Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop Setting: Cafe restaurant right after the lunch rush. Sarah: (Walking behind the counter where the registers are with her hands full of plates humming and singing. The plates make a loud crash as they are dropped into the food bin.) Ricardo: (Peering over the food window) That was crazy my friend! Sarah: I know! I am glad it is over. We got awesome tips though! Ricardo: That is great! I can take my wife to a nicer restaurant this year. Are you doing anything for Valentines Day my friend? Sarah: Sigh, no plans. I will probably rewatch season 3 of Sex and The City and order some takeout. Caleb: (coughs behind the register) Sarah: Oh I am so sorry, I didn't realize you were standing there. How are you doing today? (Clumsily rushes toward the register) Caleb: It is no problem, I didn't mean to interrupt. I am doing well thanks...Happy Valentines Day. Sarah: Thank you, you too. (smiles and pauses) What can I get for you? Caleb: I...

It is so peculiar to think of all the complexities of the human soul, in others, and in ourselves. There are so many layers to a person, and so many different aspects of a person. We are all so confusing with our history, our insecurities, our hopes, our dreams, our fears, our disappointments. I do not even fully know myself yet (will I ever?) and yet I try to figure out the depths of others. How silly. Maybe that is easier at times? I don't even know why I do some of the things I do. The beginning of this year has been extremely difficult. The world shifts and moves so quickly. Everything changes so easily. If I look back a year, or even a month ago I had a completely different life and it seems to have happened in the blink of an eye. Change is hard, but there is so much beauty in change. I need to remember that. Change and grow and never stop.