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Posted: Thu Oct 26, 2006 1:29 pm
Ok I don't really have a name for this story but I've been writing it for just a little bit. If you can think of a good name I would like if you can maybe help. I don't know how many pages there are or will be but I hope you like it. I also can only write a bit each day.
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Posted: Thu Oct 26, 2006 2:33 pm
pg 1
Nobody understands me. They think im weird and a freak. My friends are afraid of me and my family disregards me and my beliefs. I woundn't be here if it were my decision. Maybe I should start from the beginning;it all started two months ago... "Trinity Avari Cadee you are not goin to that club on Friday or any other day!" This is how it began. My mother and I having this argument of how I was too young to go to the club with a few friends. I know what your thinking,'how stupid is this she should get to go', well try and tell my mom that. My mother is short and a bit fat. Her skin is creamy tan. She has beady black eyes, a small nose, and a thin line for a mouth. Her hair looks like a big red bush on top of her head. Her name is Nadia. "Why not?" I yell back. "Dad can't you tell her I'm old enough for this?" I look at my dad angrily. He is tall and thin. Like my mother his skin is light tan. His eyes are deep and brown. His nose is long and his mouth is always in a broad smile, except for now. His long, brown hair is always tied up and he lets his bangs cover his face. His name is Bryan. "I'm sorry Trinity but you're not old enough or mature enough." He says in a deep voice. My mother cuts in and says, "We're doing this to protect you, you"ll understand some day." "That's all you ever say!" I scream at her. "It isn't fair to me so you tell me I'll understand some day. But I understand now!" That's when my dad comes to the rescue; for my mom. "Go to your room now!" he yells in the loudest voice I have ever heard. "And don't come down until you can apologize and act your age!" At that I storm up the stairs to my room, slam the door and lock it. My room is painted all black with some of my drawings taped on the walls. There is two black dressers, two bookshelves, a black and silver desk, ablack nightstand, black queen sized bed, black television, and a black rug. I lie down on my bed and look up at my ceiling. I'm a bit different than your average fifteen year old girl. I look nothing like either of my parents. I have long, straight black hair that goes to my knees. I have a very pale complexion as apposed to my parents tan skin. My eyes are green; I have a medium sized nose and a normal sized mouth. I am not short but not taller than many people.
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Posted: Fri Oct 27, 2006 1:26 pm
My parents both think I need help. They are scared of my pictures and poems but for what reason I do not know. I draw things like graveyards and blood and write poems just like it but it's because that's how I express myself. They just don't understand. Also I don't belive that there is a God. My mom and dad where mortified when I told them. They almost sent me to a Catholic school so that I would belive. Lucky for me there is one person who doesn't hate or fear me; my sister Minya. You'll see her soon. to be continued...(not for a while though)
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