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A portrait of a beautiful girl.

by crap Sanji on Teens Create - 0 Comment(s)
A portrait of a beautiful girl.

Guitarist.

by crap Sanji on Teens Create - 0 Comment(s)
Guitarist.

Beyond the mountains

by Bamby <3 on Teens Create - 0 Comment(s)
Beyond the mountains

Morning Sky

by Carina Jones on Teens Create - 0 Comment(s)

There was a new sun on the horizon but she could not see it through her cold blank eyes. Her stiff white fingers clutched a bouquet of roses but their stench could not reach her nose. There she stood on the bridge deck neither dead nor alive searching for something she could not find. A single tear rolled lazily down her colour deprived cheeks and landed without a sound on the billowing skirts of her new black dress. Forever she is stuck in this state, breathing but not truly living.
    ***
    She sat laughing in field floating with butterflies and the scent of her perfume. He gazed down at her, as she had been staring at his face for quite sometime, and asked what was on her mind in a moment like this. The young beaming girl proceeded to laugh as she shook her head and said it was nothing but the simple pleasure she found in his bright blue eyes that were the very colour of the morning sky. He sat beside her and drew his pink lips into a small smirk, the one that made her cheeks glow. She was his first true love, although she was completely unaware of the way he looked at her and the way she could capture his attention with one glance. In her heart she knew that it was her that occupied his thoughts but she could not say the same of her own thoughts. She fuelled his fire but never gave him a spark. He was her best friend and nothing more. It was her fear of getting hurt or becoming disappointed that made her shy away from getting to close. being here with him now was pushing her to her mind’s edge. 
    She then heard a voice above the tall stalks of the flowers and recognized it to be her sister’s. One more smile was all he got and she was gone through the green sea, fists full of fabric and confusion in her heart. Was it truly him she was meant to be with, oh but it couldn’t be because it won’t last long, it never does. She was the girl whose heart had never been reached. “Love is blind” and she is not used to walking in the dark. So close she had come many a time but her feelings always came to the surface a little late.
     Her family’s large estate was located in the rolling hills, down a long lane, lined with trees. Most of her time was devoted to the ivories worn with oils from her fingers. Her emotions flowed from her fingers like a cascade of water hidden deep in the carpeted mounts. The richly curtained widows in the piano room were never opened, she liked working in the dark. The black of the room allowed her mind to fill the space as if she were the particles in the air. Her friends were few but most shared her love of music until he came along.
    He moved into the manor over the hill to the right of her family’s gardens just as the new year came around the corner. They became instant friends meeting daily in the large field connecting their properties. They could talk and laugh for hours, never running out of things to say or more accurately not letting the words between them disappear. She liked having him to herself but didn’t give much thought to what he may be feeling. His company was what she looked forward to each day but the reason to her was known. He struggled to look passed her stormy pigmented eyes in search of the love she might have for him.
    One day at the dawn of spring she received a note from him informing her that there was an important question he would like to ask her the next day and she must not be late. She panicked running through excuses in her head. She was not ready for what was coming, or so she thought. The next day she spent extra hours moulding notes into a melody that spoke to her confusion in life. The page in front of her was black with notes and the floor around her was covered in mistakes. She missed their meeting, whether on purpose or by accident, it is not known, perhaps it was both.
    They did not see each other for weeks after that as he left for London with his family the day after and when he got back she was already on her way to Scotland for two weeks. They wrote to each other but the letters were kept short and trivial. It gave her an extended time to think truly about their relationship or if she even wanted to call it that. Scotland seemed to spark a change in her, whether it was the distance or the tranquility of the country it worked in her heart. It became hard for her to be away from him and the end of her trip could not come soon enough.
    The train was filled to the brim with her happiness on the way back to the English countryside. She wore her new dress that resembled the night sky with all the shimmering stars as if it was taken from its above and sewed into careful bunches and seams. Upon arrival back home she walked straight passed her favourite seat on the wooden piano bench and into the field now blooming with all the wild flowers in the world. She waited longer than normal for the man who found a place in her heart but as she saw his head push up passed the peak of the hill the butterflies could now be found in her stomach. She couldn’t help but smile at the beauty surrounding her.
    There was no smile on his face as he came into view and the butterflies in her stomach felt as if they were made of lead. She couldn’t do it; she couldn’t tell him of her love. He talked as if nothing had changed but she could see it in his eyes. His gaze was heavy as he told her of the sweet young thing he had met in London. This new girl brought a smile to his face and a giggle to his lips but it crushed her to see him like this. All they had was erased by a couple of weeks and one new person.
    That night she sat down ink and quill in her shaking hand and began to write of all she has ever felt. Tears streamed down her face as she tried to convince the reader that there was still a chance that she is the one he truly loves. The warm salty water that fell from her eyes stained the paper and she screamed out releasing the emotions built up in her body. She signed it carefully in her beautiful handwriting and sealed it with her father’s seal. She had no intention of having her beloved read the letter but she asked one of the chamber maids to deliver it anyway.
    As she lay in bed that night, visions of their encounters floated through her head and kept her sleepless. Oh how naive she thought she was, watching all the opportunities she had float by in her mind never grasping one of them. Quietly she crept passed the bedrooms and down the staircase staircase placing her hand daintily on the railing chiseled from a carpenters love. The carpet masked the noise of her feet as she clutched the edge of her night gown and ran towards the large double doors at the end of the hallway. Her long brown braid tied neatly with a blue bow before bed was now dishevelled and she pulled it out in frustration. Hair draped across her shoulders, she sat down at the piano staring blankly at the keys in front of her. The music flowing through her veins was gone taken from her like a voice from an ailing man. Her fingers collapsed on the keys under the weight of her arms and her head followed, shoulders shaking. She can not remember when she fell asleep or even if she slept at all, but she gained awareness the next morning with the sun trying to make an appearance around the edges of the curtains.
    Her room was her sanctuary for the next day or two, waiting in anticipation for the response to her tear stained letter. She sat staring down the gravel lane leading to their front steps, waiting. A single tear occasionally rolled down her cheek and she didn’t bother to brush it away because not much seemed to matter.
    She emerge from her daze, hair in knots and smile gone, when a young maid knocked politely on her door. She pushed passed the maid knowing he was there, that he was waiting for her in the study. She pushed through the doors nearly tripping on the hem of her dress; the sun could barely be seen on the horizon. He sat with his back to the door and she quickly composed herself as she came into his line of sight. A small upturn of the corners of his mouth suggested an attempted smile but it quickly faded. He motioned for her to sit but all she could do was shake her head and stare at her slippered feet for fear of the tears returning. He began to speak his voice trembling as he carefully plucked the words from deep inside. The new blue-eyed girl from London was to become his wife. He told her the date of the wedding with no compassion showing on his face. The only thing that escaped her broken lips were words of regret, regret that she did not tell him of her love sooner, but he did not hear.  He handed her a letter and slipped out of the room leaving without anymore words that may puncture her heart. She sunk to her knees but the tears would not come; broken and confused she stayed there reading the name printed on the envelope over and over until her eyes could not see anymore.
    In her wardrobe she dug through her closet until she found a midnight black ball gown with sleeves that hung from her shoulders like drapes in an abandoned home. She slipped it on and didn't let go of the letter as she struggled to tighten the back. She combed her hair and washed her face but it did not make a difference. Out she went through the windowed door to the garden not paying any mind to birds singing the new day to life. She wandered through the garden picking all the roses that had not quite bloomed. They were clutched in her left hand, the thorns leaving trails of red on her palm. When the sun’s face could finally be seen peeking above the trees, straight to the dried creek bed she ran, tripping over her feet with fatigue. Gazing from the bridge into the ground below she tore open the worn stationary and threw the envelope into the wind. Gripping the roses with force, she read:
    Dearest One,
        I write to you in response to your letter of such thought. I can not dare to compete
with the heart that you pour into your every action but I shall try. You are beautiful as the flowers in the meadow that we share but I do not care for the flowers as I care for you. Your smile brings light to my eyes and oh, the joy in your laugh. I find these things gripping at my mind begging not to be let out but my heart speaks differently. I lived for many months not knowing whether I was yours the same way that you were mine and it was a difficulty. I tried with all my being to find a way into your life; all I ever wanted was to be the reason for your joy on all those sunny days and your comfort in the rain. If you are reading this I have just told you of my plans for the future: moving to London and saying “I do” beside one that I love. Believe me when I say that it was not an easy decision. It tore me apart at night until I could sleep no longer. I love you but I cannot spend the rest of my life with you. It is too late, do not make my decision any harder. I know you’ll come to love her, my soon-to-be wife, and please do not put the blame on her. I know I have wronged you and I will always feel guilt for it but try to look at it from my eyes. We did not see each other for so long and I was walking blind down the path I thought led to you. I could not tolerate being in love with someone I thought didn’t love me back. You will find someone better than me and I can only wish for happiness in your future. I will always hold your heart but, you cannot hold mine any longer.
                                         Now I must say goodbye my brightest flower; write to me often.
    ***
    They found the letter clutched in her cold fingers upon her breast, the words no longer legible. Her body was enveloped in the black skirts of her dress and she disappeared into the black hole gazing at the morning sky one last time with a crown of scarlet around her head.

Birdsong

by Carina Jones on Teens Create - 0 Comment(s)

Across the wide expanse of his estate is a single bird perched upon an oak by the river that winds its way into the hills. He listens to bird sing as he sits off centre on the stone bench, where they once talked with love in their voices, still leaving room for the one he loved most. He was never one to stop and listen to the birds but she adored them. The simple melodies carried so softly by the wind remind him so much of her. He could always tell where she was in their grand house by the sound of her voice, as sweet as a birdsong in the morning hours. Without her voice echoing through the long hallways the house seems empty even with the multiple servants going about their daily work.
    She became pregnant on the eve of the New Year having only been married the June prior. They were so excited with the prospect of little toes being heard on the richly carpeted floors, but from the very beginning he could see the struggle on her face. She lost the joy in her voice and the eagerness in her eyes that was known by all, though she still carried a smile. The doctor was almost a permanent tenant in their house and when the time came one could feel the nerves emanating from each body in the room. There wasn’t much hope going in and that small speck of expectation died with her and the infant upon arrival. She passed with a faint smile on her face intended for him as he sang to her, through shaking breaths, the story of their love. That day the light was violently sucked from his life; the only thing that keeps him holding on is her memory that is found around each corner.
    Now he traipses around the house with no purpose in his step, just a shell of a man. He no longer bothers with multiple clothing changes throughout the day and his dinners are kept small and modest. Although he wears a smile into town, one can see his predominant cheekbones and dull sunken eyes and know his well-being is not where it should be. He keeps busy with the affairs of the state but he is empty. She was his only source of joy and his one and only friend. So young she was and such joy she brought to life, it wasn’t fair for the life to be drain from her so soon. Some days he wishes he could be with her buried in the ground to her right, it would just be simpler.
Now as he sits and listens to the songbird he feels it as a call to join her in a place where the happiness is supposedly never to end. He walks across the small rises and dips in the land never taking his eyes off the bird. Upon closer inspection the small feathered mammal is a thrush, her favourite. He reaches toward it thinking maybe he is dreaming and if he can just caress the soft plumage it will not be a bird at all but her in the flesh. His movement frightens the bird into silence and it takes flight landing in a small shrub across the body of water, which falls over itself as it runs through the valley. The sky is lit with colours only nature can seemingly produce but he only sees and hears the singing thrush. Without thinking he walks slowly towards the rushing river as if in a funeral march and stops where his ankles are submerged. ‘Far in the pillared dark’ the thrush calls him beckoning him to follow her, almost like a call to come in to the dark, but he knows he will never make it to the other side. Closing his eyes he takes a step farther, the image of his lungs filling with water as he tries to draw in the breathes essential to life takes over his mind. He raises his foot for another step heavy with contemplation. His thoughts become more rapid but he is not panicking; there is a look of peace painted on his face.
As ‘the last light of sun… dies in the west’ he turns back toward the house clothes heavy under the weight of the water. He’s seen the fade of light in his life like the sky but even in the night sky there is light, although small and seemingly insignificant. He had never set foot in that water before and he must now think it possess some enchantment as he emerged a different man under the stars. The thrush calls but inside he knows there is still a place for him in this life. He will always be tempted by the sweet melodies of the birdsong but his time has not yet come to follow it into the darkness.

Into The Stars

by Carina Jones on Teens Create - 0 Comment(s)

She sat at the worn grand piano surrounded by large curtained windows. The room was empty except for her and her piano. She stared blankly at the yellowing keys as she listened to the eerie quiet of the old manor house. There was a time when this was her place of thought, the only way she could find an escape, but, things are different now. She strode to the full-length widows and flung the heavy curtains wide open exposing the light filled gardens of her family’s grand estate. She used to prefer the dark to nurture her thoughts, before she really knew what light was like, before music.
    As a little girl she loved to hear the violin’s weep their sad songs and piano’s cheerful accompaniment to the richly dressed singer. She was captivated by the way the notes fit together in a beautiful arrangement flowing up and down like they had somewhere to go. She loved to watch the stiff lords and the elegant ladies dance; swaying to the melody at the tea-dances. How she longed to mingle in gowns of silk, but she was different. Her doctor called it a mental illness but she just felt like an outcast. Everything was an obstacle in her mind and most of the time she gave in to the black hole, plummeting into her shaking breathless self. She was ashamed of the way her body took over sometimes and for this reason she did not often venture down the long gravel lane that lead to the outside world. She was a lonely child who often felt she had no purpose in life but to sit and drink tea with her sisters until she was old and grey. She ached to grasp the future just above but it always seemed just out of reach. She could never quite understand what she was meant to do in her future even though it seemed so close.
When she was around the age of twelve at the annual concert held in their garden she met an aspiring composer.  He was not much older than her but played the piano with such grace that she was awestruck. She peered between shoulders when the young man was showing her father his latest musical endeavour. The music on the page looked like a piece of art to her young eyes. She was convinced she could write too; that was what began her incessant obsession with the art of music. She would spend days memorizing the qualities and faults of the piano in the dark sitting room when her family was out riding or in the town. It was her release and she finally felt like there was a direction, though a blurry one, to her life. There were two problems though: the unorthodoxy of a lady being a musician during this time and the fact that her family did not know. She was trapped within her mind, rattling at the bars that kept her captive.
Her family found out the day she fell asleep on the piano, her unfinished choral piece in front of her. By now she was around the age of seventeen. Her mother and father undeniably had their opinions about the direction their little girl was taking, but they did not voice them out of pure shock. She was scared they would forbid her from the seat she felt so comfortable in but they seemed indifferent. Her cell grew a little larger that day; she was allowed to play but no one else must know for fear of shaming the family.  
Around a year later the young man that had sparked the musical intelligence of her brain came down the road once again. This time he asked for her. She promised herself not to think as she left down the road with a man she barely knew. He brought her to the town concert hall that echoed with emptiness. Sitting down at the elaborately engraved piano he began to play. She felt peculiar, as if she had heard this song many a time before and he must have discerned this because he stated that this was her song. He explained how he had come to collect some missing music from her father one day when he heard her playing and was immediately rapt with her simple yet passionate playing. She was embarrassed and a little confused but as she took the seat behind the piano she felt ‘as one being awhile confined, seeing drop to dust about her all her bars.’ She looked out into the empty hall and dreamed it would be filled with faces fixed on her one-day. The prospect was a daunting one, but it thrilled her all the same.
Now sitting in the room that held her heart she could not recall what it felt like to be constrained within the many labels she was given.  There was a knock at the door and when she turned around her husband was standing there in the glow of the evening sun. She smiled as he took her hand and led her out to the automobile as if in a trance. After a half an hour drive she stepped out into the light and with a hundred eyes on her took her place at the front. Her husband nodded and all hands were ready when she gave the cue to the to begin. She dwelled with the stars that night as she was swept away in the melody she knew by heart, her dream finally a reality.

Fancy Pants

by Harshpreet Sing on Teens Create - 0 Comment(s)
Fancy Pants

BE FANCY!!!!!!!

greek soldier

by Harshpreet Sing on Teens Create - 0 Comment(s)
greek soldier

greek soldier readt for war

golden retriever puppy

by Tanya143 on Teens Create - 0 Comment(s)
golden retriever puppy

Orchids

by Tanya143 on Teens Create - 0 Comment(s)
Orchids
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