Comments Posted By Carnella

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The cold water splashed around her legs, and she shivered. The smell of salt and brine filled her nostrils, and seagulls wheeled overhead like shadowy sentinels.

» Posted By Carnella On 03.29.2012 @ 6:05 pm


The meal was fit for a king. Platters of steaming chicken legs roasted to perfection, fancy, fruity salads with exotic vinaigrettes, more food than Karmen could contemplate existing. The girl smiled, ignoring the pain in her cracked lips. Tonight, she would feast like a queen.

» Posted By Carnella On 03.10.2012 @ 1:50 pm


The balloon bobbed above the little girl’s head. She smiled, cheeks rosy, and giggled as she sped along the sidewalk. The red balloon followed, jumping sporadically with each step.

» Posted By Carnella On 02.19.2012 @ 11:59 am


The boy slumped to the ground, shoulder sore. No matter how hard he pushed, straining his muscles, the walls that caged him did not budge. With a wispy sigh, he curled into a ball upon the floor.

» Posted By Carnella On 02.07.2012 @ 1:43 pm


The girl looked out of the window, mouth agape. “I never thought that it would look this beautiful,” he whispered, looking out to the world that lay below the shuttle — a green and blue sphere that was laced with wisps of white.

» Posted By Carnella On 02.06.2012 @ 8:31 pm


“A dozen eggs, please,” the woman said, blue eyes twinkling. Jordan suppressed a sigh, forcing his mouth to twist into a smile. How could people be so cheery while in such a run-down hellhole?

» Posted By Carnella On 01.06.2012 @ 8:39 pm


The boy, no more than five, ran. Ran until his feet bled, ran until his lungs burned; he had to hurry, for if he did not, they all would die. He sucked in a deep breath of hot, ashy air, coughing hoarsely. He would not make it…

» Posted By Carnella On 12.22.2011 @ 7:28 pm


The boy bit the tip of his pencil, scrunching up his nose. The book in front of him had to be made from an alien language. He shook his head, shaggy hair falling into his face. This would take forever to learn, and possibly he would never learn.

» Posted By Carnella On 11.22.2011 @ 6:51 pm


And it was then that he knew just what he had done. She turned briskly, and without a passing glance, left. He had tried to reach out to her, but his voice lodged in his throat and his hands quivered and remained at his sides. The door closed with a deafening thud, and he was all alone.

» Posted By Carnella On 11.16.2011 @ 1:54 am


It was then they kissed. The man pressed his lips to hers and, after a hesitant moment, the woman returned and deepened the kiss, her lips sliding open.

» Posted By Carnella On 10.30.2011 @ 9:34 pm


The taste was thick and the liquid nearly suffocating – the girl nearly forgot how to breathe and swallow. ‘What was that taste…?’ She crinkled her nose and gasped for air, her throat feeling so slick that she had to suppress a shudder. ‘…iron.’

» Posted By Carnella On 10.09.2011 @ 9:25 pm


The sound roared in her ears as she ran, feet splashing sloppily in the ankle-deep puddles. She had not an inkling of where she would end up, dazed and panicking, but all she knew was that she had to run, and the ever-growing rumble of thunder was enough to propel her wobbly legs forward.

» Posted By Carnella On 07.26.2011 @ 4:36 pm


The waves of the ocean are violent, beating relentlessly against the helpless rocks on the shore. Each day, the rocks surrender a piece of themselves, even if it is but a grain, to the constant onslaught of salty water, suffering in silence. They continue this routine until they have been beaten into sand. The ocean is a beautiful thing…but maybe it is nothing more than a big bully.

» Posted By Carnella On 07.20.2011 @ 10:42 pm


Trophies come in many shapes and forms; a golden cup upon a shelf, a busty woman proclaimed as your wife. Different shape, different form, same meaning. A certain kind of material object that strokes the ego, showing to everyone who will look that you have (or maybe have not) accomplished a great feat by society’s standards.

» Posted By Carnella On 07.19.2011 @ 9:33 am


Sticks are dead. Dead as in dead. Very dead. As a child I would flutter about the forests and “plant” them, in hopes that they, the severed limbs of great trees, would magically sprout more trees. Children are very dumb, you see, and believe that frogs can turn into princes… Sticks growing into tall, limber trees is much easier to believe with that logic.

» Posted By Carnella On 07.17.2011 @ 11:10 pm

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