Diary
A young girl, heartbroken, shattered, desperate for answers on her past. Her name was Ivy. Ivy has been living in an adoption center for as long as she can remember, and she was determined to find a way out of this hell she was forced to live in. She had been abused, hollered at for absolutely nothing, and worked as a slave to the adoption center and everyone in it. Even though Ivy was in the highest state of depression, she tried to wear a smile everyday, no matter how much worse things had gotten for her. Ivy was more serene then the other girls that shared a room with her, but she had a way with her words. Writing was her addiction, her escape, her life.
Ivy fiddled with her locket around her neck to distract her from the clamor and cries around her. Of course, she couldn't sleep, so she got her diary from under her wrinkly pillow and opened up to the next blank page. She stared at the page like it was a lovely sunset, with adoring, enchanted eyes. She started to write but stopped herself at the sound of the door slamming open. Ivy hurried to get under her cold blankets to act like she was asleep, and the other girls around her followed. The headmaster of the adoption center walked around with her head cocked up. She proceeded to walk around the faint, dark room to find anything suspicious, but failed. Everything was in order and the girls were asleep-or so she thought. As soon as Ivy heard the door close with a deafening bang, she sat up in her bed.
Ivy pulled out her diary from under her covers and opened it to that same exact page. She began to write.
"I'm slowly falling apart, piece by piece. My bones are aching and throbbing and my bruises gleam off of me like the moon in the midnight sky. I always dreamt, wondered, and hoped what it would be like outside, and I don't mean the outside of this building, the outside of this routine that I have been following for the past twelve years. The routine that shows that this is not the end of this war, but only the beginning. My whole world has sunk down, lower than rock bottom, but to the flames that the devil calls his home. You would think that a young girl like me wouldn't understand as much as I say, but I have lived here long enough to know some things here and there." Her pen froze. She looked out her window to see a humming bird, moving with the same pace as her heartbeat. She closed her diary and tucked herself in and dozed off into a deep sleep she knew that she needed.
Meadow. Meadow was what surrounded her. Nothing but daisies and roses. She ran down the little road in her little pink dress until she came across a smell she was unfamiliar with. Fire. She saw a house being burned down by a covered face. She tried to get a better view, but everything was starting to blur out more and more as she got closer. She took a step closer than everything started to look like it was moving. She then realized she had been falling down, and as soon as she was about to hit the floor, Ivy woke up. She groaned as she rolled over on her back as the sun beamed down at her face. Her pen was knotted in her hair, her pillows were thrown on the floor, and her blankets were all over the place. Now, Ivy was never a wild sleeper, but she felt like her dream took over her body.
Ivy fiddled with her locket around her neck to distract her from the clamor and cries around her. Of course, she couldn't sleep, so she got her diary from under her wrinkly pillow and opened up to the next blank page. She stared at the page like it was a lovely sunset, with adoring, enchanted eyes. She started to write but stopped herself at the sound of the door slamming open. Ivy hurried to get under her cold blankets to act like she was asleep, and the other girls around her followed. The headmaster of the adoption center walked around with her head cocked up. She proceeded to walk around the faint, dark room to find anything suspicious, but failed. Everything was in order and the girls were asleep-or so she thought. As soon as Ivy heard the door close with a deafening bang, she sat up in her bed.
Ivy pulled out her diary from under her covers and opened it to that same exact page. She began to write.
"I'm slowly falling apart, piece by piece. My bones are aching and throbbing and my bruises gleam off of me like the moon in the midnight sky. I always dreamt, wondered, and hoped what it would be like outside, and I don't mean the outside of this building, the outside of this routine that I have been following for the past twelve years. The routine that shows that this is not the end of this war, but only the beginning. My whole world has sunk down, lower than rock bottom, but to the flames that the devil calls his home. You would think that a young girl like me wouldn't understand as much as I say, but I have lived here long enough to know some things here and there." Her pen froze. She looked out her window to see a humming bird, moving with the same pace as her heartbeat. She closed her diary and tucked herself in and dozed off into a deep sleep she knew that she needed.
Meadow. Meadow was what surrounded her. Nothing but daisies and roses. She ran down the little road in her little pink dress until she came across a smell she was unfamiliar with. Fire. She saw a house being burned down by a covered face. She tried to get a better view, but everything was starting to blur out more and more as she got closer. She took a step closer than everything started to look like it was moving. She then realized she had been falling down, and as soon as she was about to hit the floor, Ivy woke up. She groaned as she rolled over on her back as the sun beamed down at her face. Her pen was knotted in her hair, her pillows were thrown on the floor, and her blankets were all over the place. Now, Ivy was never a wild sleeper, but she felt like her dream took over her body.