Creative Writing Share Wall (September 15, 2022) by Daniel Sullivan https://padlet.com/d_sullivan4_282/w64k3sjcnbg0iin Post something that you started working on this semester and respond to at least 5 of your classmates' work. Talk about things that stood out to you, words or ideas that you found interesting, what made you laugh, or made you think, suggest ways you think the piece could be improved (respectfully), share thoughts or memories which the piece stirred within you. en-us 2022-09-15 11:43:40 UTC 2025-10-23 06:28:58 UTC hello@padlet.com Deal with the Devil marcelloroggiolani25_904 https://padlet.com/d_sullivan4_282/w64k3sjcnbg0iin/wish/2298312466 If I went there a second time,
The same circumstance
But a second chance
I would fight to make things different
Even if it would be my last dance

I would go against God.
His words have no power over me.
I would go against the Lies,
For Truth has only consistency.
Even if it would be my last chance

The second time I will make things right,
A second fight that would end all war,
A second word that would make all sure.
A fleeting gift,
An impossible happenstance
But with this deal with the devil
I had this chance.

A final chance,
A final dance,
A final fight,
A final word,
If I went there a second time
Everything would be worse.

The past is the past,
I should make no mistake.
Changing who had lived,
Who had died that night,
Could be my worst mistake.

The pain I felt that faithless night
I had to turn the devil down
For his words at spoken deep in me
Lifting me from ground

If I had thought of only changing
What else could I have done
She died not from my mistake
She died from God's gun
His holy rifle had taken her soul
And she accepted the bullet true

Though God had taken her from me
He left me with you.
The best half of us both
The best face in the darkest hope
The best in front of true evil
Sweet Amotha's child.

For you, I would die a second time.
For you, I would make the devil cry
For you, I'd make him not sleep at night
For you, I'd go to gods abode
For you, I'd make him reap what he sowed.

]]> 2022-09-15 13:47:45 UTC https://padlet.com/d_sullivan4_282/w64k3sjcnbg0iin/wish/2298312466 What Word Comes Next - Caroline Chute https://padlet.com/d_sullivan4_282/w64k3sjcnbg0iin/wish/2298314960 Happiness always feels like an afterthought when nothing is in focus and your eyes are drying out and your body feels like it’s in an eternal state of trying it’s best to escape from within you. But the afterthought is just as important as the original, because it often reveals more about your subconscious, your body, and your mind, than you would ever like to admit. Subtlety and eloquently, these thoughts can slip past you, and unless acted upon, will slip into a void for eternity; if you would like to admit now, you may do so, but be wary that change cannot occur without a form of action. In fact, action must be encouraged by some form of thought, whether
that be thought one or thought two, as none come first and none come last, and neither simultaneously, but in eloquence to the natural process of information. Encouragement makes some feel pitiful, and in my situation, while bones are breaking and mind is racing and heart is
thinking, the natural feeling would be pity you might think, but I think nothing of the sort; as pain and suffering can also be pleasure.]]> 2022-09-15 13:49:05 UTC https://padlet.com/d_sullivan4_282/w64k3sjcnbg0iin/wish/2298314960 what word comes next katherinelitton23_798 https://padlet.com/d_sullivan4_282/w64k3sjcnbg0iin/wish/2298315525 The forest had grown tall in the time Cassandra had been away, climbing from small saplings to towering trees that blocked out the blue of the sky and only allowed the gentle rays of the yellow sun the permission to peek through. In fact she had not been granted permission to return to this forest, but only been given the ability to observe it from afar and watch as many generations passed through its ever growing size. Now, all these generations later, Cassandra did not place her own two feet onto the green grass of the forest floor, nor did she tilt her own head back to look up at the sky. Those were the reasons she prepared to state if she was found out in these woods where neither she nor anyone was allowed, that she had not even been there, that the body was not her own. 
Returning to the task at hand, Cassandra started through the woods where the trees were so closely knit together, it was difficult to determine where the path these people had made was placed. Fixing the hood of not-her-cloak over not-her-head, she moved through the forest as quickly as she could, spying the village she was looking for down the hill and in the clearing by the small river that ran through it.
Perhaps it was because this body was not her own, but as she continued to move down the steepening path to the village, a small amount of fear started prickling its way through her stomach and up her spine. Any sense, especially one of fear, was a mystery to her, but not to this body. So, she let it take up the bite of the nerves and feelings of dread, letting them slip off of her like water on a duck's wing. Too much had happened for her to turn away from this village and return home, too much was at stake even though no one seemed to care. 
The ground flattened out and Cassandra walked through the small crops and pastures that were dotted around this side of the village where there were remnants of an ancient wall not one of these people could remember the skirmish that broke it. The body clenched its teeth before sighing with the whole of its shoulders, the fear leaking out of it. But a new sense emerged, one Cassandra could not shake off. 
It was a feeling of unwelcome, of being watched, of not belonging in this village. But Cassandra ignored it the best she could, walking into the seemingly everyday village with everyday people and everyday activities going on. Except for one person and one, or many, entities that were not of the “everyday” sort of guests this village received. How many villages do Gods walk through?

]]> 2022-09-15 13:49:24 UTC https://padlet.com/d_sullivan4_282/w64k3sjcnbg0iin/wish/2298315525 What Word Comes Next? nya_furey_23_661 https://padlet.com/d_sullivan4_282/w64k3sjcnbg0iin/wish/2298317682 By using the bottom half of a sweaty T-shirt, doused in the pump water, I was able to rinse off the back of my neck and scrub the dirt off my face and ears that had accumulated during my hike up to the ridgeline hut. Ridgeline huts, usually operated by the Appalachian Mountain Club, don’t have any electricity or heated water, so taking that long relaxing shower to scrape two day’s worth of dirt between your toes and fingers is always out of reach. The lack of electricity is never truly an issue, because after a while you get used to leaving your phone off until you return to your car, and the lack of hot showers eventually fades into memory as you collect a fine layer of oil and grime over your body. The aforementioned grime becomes a sort of sensory shield, preventing you from dwelling too long on the fact that your pores are clogged in invisible oils and that the soil underneath your fingernails isn’t as big of an issue as it would be back home. Despite all of this, I rarely ever long for home, because the culture and peace found at the AMC huts is unique unto themselves, acting as a spiritual shield between you and your life at the base of the mountains. There are different kinds of peace in the mountains; the huts have a feeling of safety, warmth, and community, whereas the exposed trails give a sense of universal importance, that in the end the mountains will still be standing no matter where you end up. Out on the trails, the usual sense of safety goes out the window, but not alongside the loss of some divine sense of peace, as the pursuit of safety and adventure is what seems to give me the strongest connection to myself. When I can feel that the mountains are forcing me to bring out the strongest version of myself, from physically to psychologically, and emotionally to intellectually, there is an inexcusable sense of connection between myself and the earth below me.


]]> 2022-09-15 13:50:33 UTC https://padlet.com/d_sullivan4_282/w64k3sjcnbg0iin/wish/2298317682 Who are you? 5 year plan jasenkennedy25_391 https://padlet.com/d_sullivan4_282/w64k3sjcnbg0iin/wish/2298318628 “What is your 5 year plan?”

When a teenager in their sophomore year of high school is asked what their five year plan is, usually either two answers are given. The first being the one that the parents and grandparents and teachers want to hear, go to college, get a job, and lead a fairly comfortable, happy-go-lucky life in Suburbia. The second is one that is often frowned upon and shuttered when the person says, I don’t know. For me the answer to this question is an easy one. It is a masterpiece built of genius composition in order to live a sustainable and awesome life that only I will be in control of. Me, Myself, and I.
The action or thoughts of needing people has never appealed to me. I like my independence, value it. That is the only one true thing that I need. I need breathing room in order to not become distracted by the mindless and incoherent ramblings of regurgitated theories and ego essays that inflate and corrupt even the smartest of us. There is an obvious difference between being smart and being bright. Having too many options, at times a burden, but when handled correctly is the greatest gift of all.  So with all that to consider, college can be officially deemed a waste of time and a complete and utter debt trap. You shall throw eighty grand into the shredder to learn more of what you already know from people that really haven’t done much other than take a piece of paper out of somebody’s hand. Online courses however, accepting a specific degree for something you actually want to do that will only take a year, the choice is easy. Once I have my multiple degrees, off to the workforce it is, but I will do my work better than anybody because I will be more successful than anybody else because I will be richer than everybody else. A dream for most, but a vision for the ones who make promises to themselves. Those are the ones that rise above or let themselves down, but not me, I will not fail, I will be better than them all, the people will no my name, and sing it from rooftops.
When I control my fate and financial status firmly, I will retire to a sunny, palmed, paradise where I wear shorts and a t-shirt everyday. Golf after work? Why not? It’s not like I have anything stressing me out. Work only took five minutes today. They bought the house. I have my money, all of it, all mine. The ten percent will be saved and some will be put away, the rest will be used for some perhaps more extravagant, extra curricular activities. At the end of that day I will rest in a king sized bed and awake to an even better tomorrow, you know, because it’s Saturday. The best day of my week.

]]> 2022-09-15 13:51:04 UTC https://padlet.com/d_sullivan4_282/w64k3sjcnbg0iin/wish/2298318628 who are you? - Owen https://padlet.com/d_sullivan4_282/w64k3sjcnbg0iin/wish/2298320368 When I was younger around the age of 8 I used to live in an apartment complex in Falmouth. I don’t remember a lot about the place, but I remember the room being very open and there being 2 bedrooms inside. I remember there being a playground in the back of the place that wasn’t that big. The washer and dryers I remember being down in the basement and would take quarters in order to work. The apartment complex was right next to main street. There wasn’t much in the room besides the bedrooms, kitchen, and bathroom.                                                                                                                  

]]> 2022-09-15 13:52:03 UTC https://padlet.com/d_sullivan4_282/w64k3sjcnbg0iin/wish/2298320368 Begin a story with a given first line https://padlet.com/d_sullivan4_282/w64k3sjcnbg0iin/wish/2298320951 If I went there a second time I don’t think I’d come out alive. You know what happened last time I went. It was bad enough to be stuck there for just a few hours let alone go back and risk getting stuck forever. If you think im willing to risk it all just so you can follow your little vision that may or may not be real. No way. I don’t get why you don’t just go on your own there is little to no risk for you. The room suddenly felt hollow like all the warmth and heat had been sucked out f it with a straw. Now they stood in a cold and dark room lit only by the small amount of moonlight shining through the glass windows surrounding them on all sides. They stood feeling like a figurine in a display window watching the wind blows leaves past the door like busy folks rushing past.

]]> 2022-09-15 13:52:21 UTC https://padlet.com/d_sullivan4_282/w64k3sjcnbg0iin/wish/2298320951 What word comes next carlie_papineau_25_132 https://padlet.com/d_sullivan4_282/w64k3sjcnbg0iin/wish/2298323196 It never occurred to me that under a full moon everyone is off. Energetically, I mean. Like the moon just, slowly shows things that no one has ever seen before. And does things no one has before. The sky seeped into red the last time the moon was out in full bloom. Full bloom like a tiger lily in the summer. It first started when I was getting bread from the baker. A normal fall day, leaves turning brown, the warm smell of apple pie and molasses danced  through the air and up my nose. Walking up to the baker, I greeted him. “Good morning Mr. Hayes.” he was kneading dough then, took a second glance at me “oh, good morning bridget.” he said happily. “What can I get you?” I looked at his poison green eyes for a second.  I wish I had green eyes. Mine are just an earth brown. “Oh,” I started shaking myself out of it. “Yes, I need two loaves of white bread,” he nodded. I always loved to see mr. hayes. He’s such a talented baker. He handed me two loaves still fresh. The smell of it alone made my mouth water. “Thank you.” I told him pulling 50 cents out of my pocket then placing it in his hand. He looked up and shook his head at me.  Giving it back. “No,” he started. “You don’t have to pay for it.” I blinked. He’s being nice, but he needs all the money he can get. And the poor thing has been trying to spread his bakery for years.  “Please take it.” I insisted.  “No. I don’t need it.” he answered.  A confused look spread across my face. “Take it.” I repeated. His eyes twitched and his face grew hot. Then all of a sudden he took a bread knife out of the block beside him and stabbed it down on the table. My eyes glued to the knife.  I couldn’t tell if my heart was beating out of my chest  or if it stopped completely. If he was any closer he would have stabbed my hand. I trembled. My hands shaking and the coins clinking together. My eyes welled up. I didn’t even try to look up at him. His voice is low and shallow. “Leave.” he snarled. My eyes shot up at him. There he was staring me down like a hunter spotted a deer. The knife in his hand shaking. “Go.” 


]]> 2022-09-15 13:53:31 UTC https://padlet.com/d_sullivan4_282/w64k3sjcnbg0iin/wish/2298323196 chloebridges26_518 https://padlet.com/d_sullivan4_282/w64k3sjcnbg0iin/wish/2298330482 My family is a big part of who I am today. More specifically my dad's side of the family. My great great grandmother Mary first came to America all the way from Armenia and settled in watertown massachusetts. There is a large Armenian heritage there. She had 6 children. My great grandmother Aurora is actually still alive today. She  cooks Armenian dishes and pastries and shows us our Armenian culture. It was always a super special part of my upbringing. I feel knowing your culture is important. She has 10 grandchildren and 9 great grandchildren.. Next is my grandfather. He tells me stories of his upbringing and always has words of wisdom to give.i feel i should take his advice more than i'm willing to admit. Then comes my dad. My dad is like my best friend. We bond over the same interests like cars and movies. My family will always mean alot to me. And I was happy to share some insight on our history. 

]]> 2022-09-15 13:57:19 UTC https://padlet.com/d_sullivan4_282/w64k3sjcnbg0iin/wish/2298330482 What Word Comes Next https://padlet.com/d_sullivan4_282/w64k3sjcnbg0iin/wish/2298331819 I hesitate before placing my hand on her shoulder, her movements stutter once I make contact with her skin, but she doesn’t turn back to me, and I knew I didn’t need to see her face to know of the glazed look covering the blue in her eyes, like it always did when she was lost.

My mouth is dry as it fumbles around the smoke for something, anything to say, my grip tightens, fingers intimately familiar with the coarse texture of her skin, but I can hardly make a noise, lost on what I could possibly say to give either of us any small comfort. 

A spark of indignant anger at her lies dormant within me, it was hardly the time to shout though, but I find my hand begin to slip from her skin, the small fire I held inside breathed in rhythm the flickering flames around us, there was almost a comfort to the anger that stuck to me like a devout follower.

Before I can fully detach myself from her, I feel her unsure touch seek out my retreating hand, asking for the comfort to last a while longer, the weak pressure leaves my hand stuck to her once more.
The sniffle retreating from her was malformed from the ash filling her lungs, creating an ugly sound that was now stuck in my head.

When she finally turns, the blue I was expecting to meet me looked ugly and gray, I found myself retreating from her stare, she managed to utter the makings of a sentence.

My fingers pressed into her shoulder effectively cutting off her sentence, we both knew there was nothing to be said now, this was one thing those blue eyes couldn’t save her from, not when all they had known would be nothing but ash. 
]]> 2022-09-15 13:58:02 UTC https://padlet.com/d_sullivan4_282/w64k3sjcnbg0iin/wish/2298331819 electric_blue_scoobydoo_771 https://padlet.com/d_sullivan4_282/w64k3sjcnbg0iin/wish/2298338294 (this is something I was working on for a writing contest for fans of Stephen King's book It that unfortunately got canceled.)

Stanley Uris was a sight to behold. Richie almost cried laughing when he saw him, sandy hair as curly as fusilli pasta, white collared shirt, little bow tie, a look on his face like a hawk about to strike, all of that so out of place on his five-year-old body that Richie didn’t think he’d ever stop laughing. 
 “Richard, be nice.” Maggie Tozier bent down and put a warning hand on his shoulder. On her finger sat a pearl on a gold band surrounded by little emeralds, the ring she only wore on special occasions. Richie had asked a year before, sitting on her lap after a stageplay he had sulked and sniffled his way through (and had blocked the details of formally and methodically from his memory), if he could have it. He thought it was so pretty. He reached out and touched it now, hard laughter momentarily fizzled out. 
She flinched at his touch but softened and squeezed his shoulder lightly. He looked up and behind himself and into her blue eyes (blue just like his were, everyone said) and she raised an eyebrow in the I’m not going to ask again look that she gave him during the numerous incidents when he wouldn’t get in the bathtub. 
Richie turned back to Stan, standing there with his hands now clasped formally behind his back. They studied each other for a moment, Richie’s head cocked like an awkward puppy, bug-eyed in his too-big, coke-bottle glasses. After a while, Richie widened his gap-toothed grin and stuck a hand out in a mockery of his father.
“How’d ya doo, Meester Ureeez?” He stretched out his vowels, switching the voice a little at the end at the meester. 
Stan’s eyebrows shot up and he stepped back a bit in surprise as if Richie’s hand was a snake about to bite him, but his hands remained where they were, tucked behind his little grey vest. His eyes flicked from Richie’s hand and back to his eyes, then he turned around and looked at his mother. Richie caught a glimpse of his hands as his torso shifted, pudgy fingers working nervously against each other as if he had put them behind his back because he didn’t want Richie to see. Richie didn’t get why he couldn’t just fidget out in the open like he did, but he figured Stan’s smart getup made him act more formal. Maybe he should get himself a bowtie like that.
Stan’s mother gave him a little smile and a nod and Richie could see that her nose had a small ridge where her wiry glasses rested on it just like his grandmother’s had. Stan turned back around. Holding his arm out for this long was getting tiring, but Stan did not seem to care for Richie’s personal comfort, taking as long as he possibly could to lift his arm, open his fingers, bring his elbow up, reach out… and, snatch! In a flash like a rabbit running away he took Richie’s hand and shook quickly, the other hand coming out slightly from behind his back as if it was getting over its shyness. Richie grinned and squeezed his hand back. Before Stan could react, Richie shot backward and ran, pulling Stan with him, laughing like a maniac. Stan let out a yelp but lumbered along behind him. 
“Oh, wait!” Stan stopped suddenly, planting his feet in the ground with surprising strength, making Richie lurch forward with momentum. “We shook with the wrong hand. I was supposed to put out this one. He let go gingerly and switched put out his other hand, (the shy one, Richie had dubbed it) holding it out palm up as if for Richie to inspect. 
“Oh, okay,” Richie said awkwardly. After a pause, he grabbed that hand too and looked up at Stan with a slight smirk. “Ready?” Stan nodded, looking a little like a hawk again, eyebrows arched downward, pondering if he really should… and Richie shot off.
]]> 2022-09-15 14:01:06 UTC https://padlet.com/d_sullivan4_282/w64k3sjcnbg0iin/wish/2298338294 beginning in the middle lines https://padlet.com/d_sullivan4_282/w64k3sjcnbg0iin/wish/2298339547
  • Forgiveness is a virtue, but the quality of a higher standard is not in her morals. 

    1. I often thought that forgiveness is something everybody was obligated to receive, until I became older and realized that not everyone has an obligation to do anything.

    1. It's the 5th official day of senior year and I think anyone with eyeballs can diagnose me with senioritis.
      
    1. Comparing yourself to others is deadly, so that’s why she lived everyday without giving a single thought to anybody else when she walked in a room. 



    1. Her cat is her best friend, always there to stare at me when I'm eating food and to sit on my chest when I cry. Forever best-friends don’t always have to be human, she said. 

    1. The waves always comforted her, she could never stray too far from the sand without drifting back to the shore. 

    1. Every time I see you my heart grows more. I see you in every movie, every book, and I hear you in every song. 

    1. “Why would you ever say that?”, she exclaimed. “Because I have no guilt for those who disrespect” 

    1. Love is a strong word. One could argue that it’s the strongest being in the world.

    1.  Home is wherever you feel the most comfortable. Whether or not that comfort is in a person, place, or being. 

    ]]>     2022-09-15 14:01:39 UTC https://padlet.com/d_sullivan4_282/w64k3sjcnbg0iin/wish/2298339547