Havilah Vashti

Last night I dreamed my best friend ignored me. I dreamed a pretty boy took a strand of my shining yellow hair and told me I was beautiful.

In my first post I talked a little about clichés . . . Here's something suspicious I wrote in my room on one of my poetry breaks: White Nikes I'm counting every glance you’re eyes are so blue, like pieces of the sky maybe if I fell into them, gravity couldn’t bring me back and I would fly and I would fly and I would fly Um . . . ew. That's been said a BILLION times by EVERYBODY.  I have so much fun with how icky this sounds. Like old play-doh, it's all dried up and smelly.  Sigh. Don't you just love clichés?  Maybe this next one's better—it's not so mushy and weird: 109 When August’s damp hand falls we shelter behind our fans gasping for air under our flimsy roofs but soon the plywood will give will be ground into the dirt leaving only the bare, raw skin, blood-soaked soil all around.  The smell of sweat and rotting flesh, the things we’ve lost, the decay that surrounds us hold sleep just out of reach— but we must keep moving,  keep slowly killing ourselves ...

I write a lot of short stories. A lot. There's just something so yummy about a story you can write in a few days then be done with FOREVER. But I'm lugging this one out and dusting it off just for you. You're welcome. This is something I wrote over a weekend in eighth grade. It might not make much sense and it's on the outrageous side of things, but that's kinda part of the fun. Also, it's not actually that short. This story is completely fictional, except for the parts that actually happened — I almost never write stories that don't have little anecdotes sprinkled throughout. I'm writing what I know, I guess. Every Lie My name is Karlene Dixon-Jobe.  I am fourteen years old. My favorite color is purple. My favorite food is bacon.  I’m originally from Wyoming, but when I was four we moved to New York City. We lived there and homeschooled for six years.  Next we moved in with my great aunt Marcelle and her boyfriend Percy. They lived out in Nevada, in the...

I'm starting a blog because I have a lot of writing and not a lot of ways to share it. I don't know if anybody will read it, but if they do that's great!! I will be using my blog to share short stories or other little things that I write or have written. Writing is my favorite thing ever, other than singing and eating cake. I do write some poetry, but I like to call it "little thoughts" instead. "Poetry" sounds like what high schoolers scribble in the back of their spiral-bound, college-ruled notebooks about that one hot guy on the football team, but then burn in their thirties because it's too cliché.  And I'm not saying I think my "little thoughts" are never cliché. I sometimes write a thought that I'll open on my laptop just to admire — then after a day or two of gazing lovingly at my creation, I'll begin to realize it's just a mashup of several Kate Baer poems (I love love love!!), and I'll kind of shrivel up inside...