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Why I Write
When I write, I draw on my experiences as a woman with a painful past, a rapturous wife and mother, a world traveler, and a spiritualist. For me, writing is an art form. Like an artist, the work becomes more than I imagined it would be. When I set out to write a story with a particular idea or character in mind, words I cannot claim as my own flow from a magical and mysterious place through me and onto paper. The work takes on a life of its own; it is living art. The process fascinates me, satiates me, and makes my life more meaningful. Please read my stories! If you would like to offer me feedback on my work, please click here and sign up for a free membership: https://heftynicki.Writing.com I hope to see you there!
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Blog, Blog, Blog
#722136 added April 13, 2011 at 8:19am
Restrictions: None
'K' is for...?
Yesterday's 'J' word was 'Jealousy.' Thanks for all your wonderful comments and guesses!

Today, guess which 'K' emotion/feeling/state of mind I've depicted today in the short fictional passage below. Jessica Bell is using the same prompt word for a passage of her own. After guessing in the comments here, won't you follow the link and read Jess's entry?


Here's my 'K' offering:


Bradley chased the soccer ball, bouncing toward the far corner of the playground. As he neared, a soft whimper carried on the noontime breeze. He slowed, then peeked around the trunk of the huge oak at the fence. Lydia Vance sat, her back against the rough bark and her hands in her face.

Lydia was the fairest child in Jackson Elementary. If her eyes had been pink, she’d have been a full-fledged albino. She stuck out, and kids can be cruel.

“Dude! Hurry up!” his friends shouted.

Bradley picked up the ball and turned towards them, then looked back at Lydia. He’d never actually talked to her before.

Lydia’s shoulders heaved. She looked small, vulnerable, like a scared little bunny rabbit. The boys yelled again, something about needing the ball before graduation. Bradley hurled it in their direction, then shoved his hands in his pockets.

Taking a small step forward, he said, “Um, hey. Er, are you all right? I mean, anything I can do?”


*~*~*~*



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