Elizabee Writes

  Living Water In oceans and lakes and rivers and ponds, the water comes alive. It can never be seen as it is surrounded by itself, but it lives. Were it to walk on land it would take form. The droplets of water would all hold together, dripping as they go, but as a whole figure, never diminishing in size. The individual drops sticking together would look like scales to us; A massive, shapeless blob made of water scales. This living water would not be a threat to humans, they swim in water all the time and have passed through these water creatures many times without knowing it. But what purpose would this living water have to come on land? Why would it want to be seen by humans? Like all living creatures, the water is curious. Always constrained to it’s wet environment, the water creatures venture to the land out of pure curiosity. They simply want to experience something new. People would surely be scared but quickly realize that it's just water. Although it may be moving by itsel

  Wasted Confidence “Hey! Leave him alone!” you shout down the street. You begin to walk faster, as you watch a poor man getting beat up by three men in dark hoodies. You run up to one of the hooded men and pry him away from the man laying on the ground. “Walk on, this ain’t none of your business,” the man says, shoving you away. “You are beating up an innocent man, I’m not just going to ignore that, so yes, it is my business,” you reply confidently. The men pause their torture of the man on the ground and begin to surround you. “I said, walk on.” You pull out a small pistol that you carry around at all times, “And I said, leave him alone.” The men back away as you point your gun towards them. You slowly walk towards the man on the ground and help him up, keeping your gun aimed at the hooded men. You sling the wounded man’s arm around your shoulder and begin backing away. The hooded men silently stare at you as you and the wounded man walk away. After you have created a good

  How Can I Help? Sitting on the sidewalk I see a woman walking my way. Most people walk past me, sparing me a glance then strolling on without a second thought. She was different. I could see her looking at me, looking at my cardboard sign with “Anything Helps” written in big black letters. Slowly she walked up to me. “Hello,” she said softly, giving an awkward little wave. I cautiously look up at her, “Ugh hello?” “How can I help you?” she says with sympathy in a stern voice. “Well money helps, food, clothes, anything really,” I say, motioning to the sign. “Wait here, I will be back in an hour.” “Alright?” ‘It’s not like I have anywhere to go,’ I think to myself. I continue to sit against the side of the building, watching people walk past, some giving nasty glares, an occasional sympathetic smile. But no one else stopped, only that one lady. An hour passed and the lady returned with two large shopping bags hung on her arms and a backpack on her back. I stand up to help

  Sandwich Girl In the small classroom filled with four year olds, screaming fills the air. Chaos is spun by the children racing around the room, chasing one another and falling to the floor in their pursuit. Childish insults are thrown back and forth between the boys. A girl complains about something another is doing. The poor teacher stands, handing out pieces for a craft, to the few children sitting calmly at a table, while desperately trying to restore some form of order to the room. It is so loud and no one is listening. Her authority means nothing to them. They are like wild animals released from a cage, untamed and uncontrollable. A little girl, with a small bun at the top of her head, and a pink dress covering the rest of her body, walks up to the teacher. She grabs the teacher's shirt and gives it a slight tug. The teacher finds some sort of composer and looks down to the little girl. “Yes?” she asks the girl. The girl pauses, feeling the stress but quickly ignorin

  Dancing As she listened, the music flowed through her veins, it controlled her every move. Her arms gracefully swayed to the rhythm of the beat. Letting the music control her she danced, expressing the feeling that could not be explained. Only through movement could she release the emotions brought to her by the song. In this moment she was not herself but an extension of the song, bringing life to the music. She didn’t care if her dancing would be considered good or bad, she just danced to the beat of her heart. Whichever movement felt right is what she did. She could not explain why she danced the way she did, it just seemed right, a true form of expression, bound only by the physical limitations of her body. Sometimes she stopped to imagine the motions physically impossible for her to do. Although not able to perform them, she knew that they came next in the dance. No one would see her dancing like she did. In her head she danced like a ballerina, graceful and elegant like a

  Fragment of the Sun She grabbed the sun and forcefully ripped a small piece off. In her hands she held the small ball of light. She could feel its power radiating in her hands. It was beautiful. Nothing she had ever experienced had felt like this.  The woman wondered what she could do with the tiny sun fragment. ‘Fire’ she thought to herself. The sun piece could bring two things, light and heat, and heat meant fire. Never before had she wanted to set something on fire so badly. She started small, taking a piece of paper and holding it above the piece of sun. Instantly it went up in flames and fell to ashes. This was only the beginning, the paper was too small and the woman wanted more. Heading outside the woman found a tree, alone in a field, set apart from all the others. At the base of the tree she slowly moved the small sun ball towards the tree. The bark started to blacken. As the ball of light touched the tree, fire shot up the trunk and the tree went up in flames. The wom

  Teach Me How To Fly? “Aerthyde, almid, derekt. Kinoay, shymid, ranu. Hinsora, waytana, calekili.” “Daddy, what do those funny words mean?” a young girl asks. Shocked that his daughter was listening, the man quickly turns to the young girl, “Well Maya, I don’t actually know what they mean, but I know what they do,” he winks. “What do they do?” Maya asks. “They cast a magic spell!” The young girl skeptically squints her eyes, “Magics not real daddy,” she says bluntly. “Oh yes it is my darling. If you would let me finish the spell, I will show you.” Maya furrows her eyebrows, still skeptical of her fathers magical abilities, but also curious to see if he is telling the truth. “Alright daddy, you can finish.” The father takes a breath to restart the spell. “Daddy what is the spell going to do?” Maya spurts out, cutting him off just before he begins. The father smiles, “You will have to wait and see.” He restarts the spell, “Aerthyde, almid, derekt. Kinoay, shymid, ranu. H

  Uncomfortable Oh that tingly feeling, make it stop, make it stop! Like little tiny ants walking their little tiny feet all over my skin. I can’t make it stop. I scratch and itch and turn and twist, hoping the small breeze will make the feeling go away. Persistent, that’s what it is, no matter what I seem to do, the tingly feeling continues to  crackle all over my body. If I hold still it’s there, if I stand still it’s there, nothing works.  The only cure is time, but how do I wait when I can’t even think! This feeling is consuming my mind, I can’t concentrate, can’t focus. Tingling, that is all I know. This horrible feeling all over my body has made time slower. Every second of this misery feels like hours, I can’t take it! I want it gone! Quickly thinking I run outside; I run and I run until I hear the sound of water. I dash to the lake and without hesitation, emerge myself into the cold water. Peace, finally. The tingling is gone and all I feel is the smooth water encapsula

  The Reward (Part 2) A few minutes later, a tall blonde woman in a short black leather dress and high heels walks in the door, her shoulders covered by a loose black jacket. The man tries to turn his eyes away, not wanting to stare inappropriately, “No no no no no, this is not the kind of reward I wanted.” The woman laughs, “Oh no sweetie, I am just here to take you to collect your reward. Follow me,” she says as she walks out the door of the bakery. The man's brain processes what she said as his legs quickly move to follow the woman. “Umm ma’am where are we going?” he asks, still terribly confused about everything. “You’ll see when we get there, just keep up,” she quickens her pace. The man struggles to keep up with her long stride. After walking down many street blocks they reach a dark alleyway, “We are here,” the woman says. The man cautiously looks down the alley, “This is where I get my reward?” The woman nods. She walks into the alley and the man follows. When t

  The Reward (Part 1) “Thank you for giving me this information,” the policeman says to the man in front of him, “As for the reward you were promised, take this key to 772 West Orchard Street and go in the blue door.” The officer tosses the key over to the man. He loosely catches it. A little confused by his current circumstances he leaves the police station and does as instructed. Following a map on his phone he walks down the dimly lit streets towards the address the cop gave him. He reaches the address and sees the blue door. Looking up at the sign above he reads, “Gambo’s Bakery.” ‘What, is my reward a box of donuts?’ he chuckles.   The man pushes on the door and it is unlocked, even though the shop appears to be closed. A short round man comes out from behind a door and appears behind the counter full of sweets. The man cautiously approaches, “Umm hi, I was sent from the police station to collect a reward. They told me to come here and gave me this key,” he says holding up t

  Magic “Come right in,” she said with a hint of seduction laced in her voice. The young man hesitantly followed the woman inside her small shop. “I know exactly why you are here.” Nervously the man replies, “Oh you do? And why is tha-ugh I mean- how do you know I’m here- umm why I’m here,” he stutters. “Because everyone who ends up at my shop is here for the exact same reason.” The man gulps, “I umm, wanted to know, if you could uhm, if you would teach me about… magic.” The man tenses up, feeling ashamed for asking such a childish question. The woman smiles, “Of course, after all, that is what they all ask of me,” she winks. Letting go of the tenseness the man exhales deeply. “Now the first thing you need to know is that real world magic is not like what you see in movies and fairytales. It is much more subtle, more hidden. It takes much concentration and practice to master the craft.”  The man listens intently. “Secondly the world doesn’t call what we do magic, they call it tel

  Agony Wailing and moaning, crying out in agony. I’m starving I’m starving, please come and help me. I fall to the floor, unable to control my sadness. I scream as loud as my lungs allow. Please just give me some food, my stomach aches, I’m dying.  My body begins to collapse, losing all energy. My last breaths are spent crying out for help. My eyes become heavy, they can hardly stay open. I try my best to rub the tiredness away but it remains. As my brain shuts down more, my screams grow louder. I try to move but I cannot, my legs do not know how to function. Help me, HELP ME, I scream, but it’s like no one is listening, they don’t understand. How can they not feel my pain, sense my misery. They should know, they should help. I cry and I cry, waiting for a generous soul to aid me. Will they ever come? Is this the place I am going to die? There is so much I never got to experience in life, and now never will. Oh what agony this is, I feel so helpless, so vulnerable. I cry tears o

  The Growing Tree “Plant it mommy plant it!” the young boy excitedly hopped up and down. The mother smiled and tenderly dug a small hole in the ground, dropping in a tree seed. “Alright let’s go,” the mother said, reaching down for the boy’s hand. “No mommy, I want to watch my tree grow!” he complained.  “Trees don’t grow that fast. Do you really want to be right there for the next thirty years?” The boy gasped, “Thirty years! That’s like forever.” His mother jokingly frowned, “We will come back every once in a while to check on it alright?” “Ok mom,” he said, standing up and grabbing his mothers hand. Years went by, and every few months the mother would bring her son to look at the spot where the tree was planted. As the boy got older he began losing interest in the tree, bored with how slow it was going. One day the visits to the tree stopped, and the little seed layed alone in the earth for many years. “Hey mom, do you remember that tree we planted when I was little