Things that I can't Remember

Time to write!


I can’t remember the first birthday party I went to.

I can’t remember what I wore on my first date with Austin. I really can’t remember what he wore.

I can’t remember when the first time was that I told my brothers I loved them.

I can’t remember what my favorite outfit was in the seventh grade.

I can’t remember the words to certain songs I thought I’d always know.

I can’t remember how many times I fought with my cousins.

I can’t remember who my first real crush was.

I can’t remember why I ever liked Jarrett-it sounds like ferret.

I can’t remember the dream I had last night.

I can’t remember the choreography to dances I did even a couple years ago.

I can’t remember the first time I wasn’t afraid of a dog.

I can’t remember the last time either of my parents yelled at me.

I can’t remember when the last time Andrew and I had a real conversation was.

I can’t remember what I ate on my ninth birthday.

I can’t remember.

I can’t remember what else I can’t remember.

Fear

Time to write!



Fear

“You can’t move a muscle,” Zachary said, his face very close to mine, his blue eyes sparkling with
mischief.
“But I’m not comfy, Zach,” I complained to my older brother. I already resented being put to bed so
early so that my brothers could go watch a movie while my parents were out on date that Friday night,
and now Zachary was squishing me, pulling the blankets so tightly around me that I couldn’t move my
legs at all.
“Listen, Breanna,” he said, very patiently, mooshing the blankets around my face and making me feel
like I was some sort of Breanna-filling in a big comforter taco shell. “Tonight is the night of the Living
Dead. If I don’t wrap you up this way, the vampires will come and they’ll kill you.”
At this age I’d laugh at such a statement. At fifteen I would’ve rolled my eyes. My twelve year old self
would’ve been beyond irritated at the incessant teasing and would’ve kicked the blankets off definatly-
probably kicking a bit of older brother too, just for good measure. But at nine years old, my only reaction
was horror.

Night of the Living Dead?

Who even knew there was such a night? And why in the name of all things good and gracious had my
parents left that particular night? Didn’t they love me at all?

Sincerest Apologies

Time to write!

Over the break I took on the task of writing a novel, which entirely took over my writing time. I didn't even mean to stop writing here, but it happened. While that is disappointing, to me more than anyone, I'm sure, I think it's worth noting that the novel is coming along wonderfully. I've been working on it just about a month and a half now and I am over 100 pages. Only a few people have been allowed to see it so far, my parents and a couple friends have looked over portions of the first draft, but I'm extremely excited about it. It's called "The Forgotten" based off of a piece I started on this very blog! If that isn't great news, then I don't know what is. Except for the chance of possible publication. That sounds heady, and I obviously don't know what's going to happen, but those who have seen the beginnings have told me repeatedly that the story has potential. I'm just enjoying taking the characters on this adventure, even though its kind of heck for them. Ah, the luxuries of the author.

I'm also writing quite a bit for a Creative Writing course I'm taking this semester. It's a bit hard core, and functions more as a workshop than an actual class, but I really enjoy it. Maybe I'll put some of the stuff I've written for that class up here, and then I can have stuff compiled a little better. This is just me thinking in writing here, however, making a longer post than necessary.