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posted by para-scence
I managed to get out of the house, with Dad and Kara thinking I was going to work. But instead, I went to Blake's house. He took me to the horse ranch again, and we rode horses. It was much easier than the first time.

After that though, I decided I should probably take my punishment. I stayed nyumbani all day, except the days I was actually working of course. Also with my punishment, I became Hera's chauffeur. I was stuck driving her to the movies, with a discount because of my employment there, to her friends' houses, and wherever else she wanted to go basically. She was so annoying. I took my punishment graciously though; I knew I deserved it.

Some days however, I'd have Blake over if everyone else was gone. Sometimes I also used this time to have something to drink. Blake did not approve of this.

"Didn't wewe learn?" he sighed. I took a sip.

"What do wewe mean?" He raised his eyebrows at me.

"You drink a lot..." I opened my mouth to object, but he stopped me. "You almost died a few weeks zamani because of it. Why don't wewe stop?" he asked. He sounded kind of annoyed. I folded my arms defensively.

"I just over did it that one time. I'm fine with it now." He stared at me for a while. "What?"

"I think wewe need to stop," he said. I pursed my lips.

"And if I don't want to?" I countered.

"I'll tell your father," he alisema quietly. How childish. Tell my dad? Still, it striked fear into my core. I frowned. "Sorry," he shrugged. "But if it helps you..." I sighed, eyeing the bottle on the counter. It had been a great release when I was with Drew, did I really truly need it now?

"I'll try," I said. Blake kissed my forehead.

"Thank you."

***

I regretted agreeing to any of this. After two weeks, I was ready to die, to put it lightly. Ok, maybe that's a little dramatic, but I felt like I was losing my mind. Dad and Kara thought I was just being moody because I was grounded for so long; they don't even know the half of it. I didn't want to have Blake over anymore. I was afraid I'd lash out at him and just upset him. I had to nearly hold my breath at work; people are so rude.

Then finally, it'd been two months, and I was free from punishment. Still, it didn't make me feel any better.

"You've been doing well," Blake observed one siku after school. I hadn't hung out with him since I decided to quit drinking, and now that I was free, he wanted to see me. He had no idea how much of a fight I was putting up.

"Mhmm..." I sighed, avoiding eye contact.

"I'm proud of you," he said, pulling me into a hug. Then something in me just snapped. I pushed him away (he didn't budge, but took a step back on his own), and put my palms over my eyes, trying to take a deep breath.

"I hate this!" I shouted. Everything I'd held inside started to just pour out. For about a half saa I ranted on and on about how it wasn't fair; and how it's too hard; it's driving me insane, and all that I felt about this crap. Then finally, I finished. I took a deep breath. Blake had been very quiet the whole time.

"Irina, I think wewe need help." I plopped down on the couch, exasperated. I groaned.

"I'm fine!" I insisted. He ran his hand through my hair calmly.

"I heard the community center offers AA meetings," he alisema quietly. I stood up and folded my arms, shaking my head.

"No. There's no way in hell I'm going there."

***

"I can't believe you're making me do this," I growled through my teeth. Blake opened the passenger door of his truck, and gestured for me to get out. I took a long sigh, then hopped out. He took my hand in his and guided me to the front door of the community center.

Inside, there were about ten other people. Most were adults, but there was a young boy there, maybe only a mwaka older than me. Blake sat with me through the whole thing. People went up to the front of the room, and basicaly talked about how they began drinking, how long they've been sober, and all about their journey through it. My moyo was racing the whole time, then my turn came up. Amazingly, the people there seemed interested in what I had to say. They offered advice and connections.

"See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Blake asked as we left afterwards. I pursed my lips.

"I still didn't like it," I muttered. He hugged me.

"Well, if wewe just need to go for a while, and just keep up everything you've been doing, soon wewe won't have to go anymore." I rolled my eyes.

***

I continued going to AA meetings, and soon they weren't that bad. I went three times a week. My excuses were that Blake and I were hanging out. Dad didn't like it, but Kara thought it was fine, so they let me go. I didn't bother to tell them where I was really going; it was too long of a story, and I had just gotten un-grounded and did not want to go down that road again.

Then one day, Blake and I were at a meeting (he likes to come with), when my cellphone rang.

"Hello?" I asked.

"Irina, Kara's in the hospital. The baby's coming," Dad said. It took about a full dakika for me to process that. It felt so surreal. I hung up without a word. All of a sudden, I felt resentment towards Dad and Kara. It just reopened the wounds I had gotten when they first started dating. I shook the thoughts out of my head. No. Kara was a great person, and it wasn't fair of me to hate her for this.

"What's wrong?" Blake whispered.

"We've got to go to the hospital," I said. The drive there was fairly quiet, with a couple maswali from Blake. I provided one word answers; I just wasn't in the mood for talking. My moyo was racing.

Soon, we arrived at the hospital. We were sent to the waiting room, where we ran into Hera sitting kwa herself.

"Mom's having the baby," she said. I nodded. Hera had already adjusted, and called Dad by, well, "Dad." I still wasn't sure I could start calling Kara "Mom" yet, if not ever. We sat there in silence for a while; Blake held my hand in his comfortingly. Then about an saa later, Dad came out. He smiled softly at us.

"Come on in kids," he alisema quietly. The three of us followed him into the room. Kara laid in the hospital bed, holding something small and noisy. She smiled weakly at us. We huddled around her. to see the tiny little baby crying in her arms.

"This is your new baby sister, Desiree," she said. She looked up at me. "Do wewe want to hold her?" I never liked little kids much. They were so noisy and annoying. Of course, I'd never been around babies much, but still they didn't interest me. But the little infant she held in her arms seemed different. She was my sister. I nodded. She carefully passed the little baby into my arms. She weighed inayofuata to nothing, wrapped in a faded pink blanket with a matching hat.

As I held her in my arms, a strange feeling came over me. I felt like I knew her already. It was weird. I couldn't help but think she was the same baby that would've been born years ago. She stopped crying, and yawned, her mouth forming a tiny "o."

"Aw! She's so cute!" Hera shouted in a whisper. Desiree made some "mmmmm" noises, as if in agreement. I smiled.

She was perfect.
3 Worst Ways To Start A Story - Steve Douglas-Craig via FilmCourage.com.
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Before Screenwriters Pitch Studios This Is What They Should Know - Shannan E. Johnson via FilmCourage.com.
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Screenwriters Need To Understand That Hollywood Is A Dollar Driven Industry - Carole Kirschner via FilmCourage.com.
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Here is a selection of true stories from around the world last week.
1.Price of the week.
James Bolton,who is unemployed,was very excited when he won first prize in a raffle last week.The prize was a weekend for two at a hotel in Bournemouth on the south coast of England.Unfortunately,he was less excited when he saw the name of the hotel.It was the hotel where he had worked as a porter the awali month.He had Lost his job there.

2.Mistake of the week
A 33-year-old Norwegian man came nyumbani one night from the pub and got into kitanda inayofuata to his wife.The woman immediately woke up,screamed,and jumped...
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posted by 1-2vampire
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Tick, tick, tick
That sound, constant in my head,
A sound that haunts every mind,
A sound that brings fear,
A clock,
Ticking the sekunde of your life away,
Making life shorter and shorter with every tick,
Drawing death nearer and nearer,
But wewe should not live in fear,
For life is too short for such a thing,
Some people waste these precious seconds,
Others treasure them, making sure that no tick is wasted,
The clock ticks on,
But as this sound is registered,
What do wewe do?
Tick, tick, tick
Three zaidi seconds, gone, like that,
Did wewe use them well?
Live life,
For life is too short to spend these sekunde in hell.
His Melody
To quiet the tears
She sings him to sleep
When the morning has dawned
He can’t be roused from a rest so deep

She sings him to sleep
Night after night
And when he does not awaken
Her will to go on grows slight

She sits and waits while he’s away
She remembers his laugh and smile
Oh what a joy to see his joy
She lifts up a prayer “May I see him in a short while?”

She sits at the window and waits
The sun sets slowly behind the kilima
The others say hello but she doesn’t hear
She is waiting to make the tears still

The time has come she cannot wait
She sets out to see her boy
To stop the tears
To bring him joy

But the tears she stills are not his
They fall from her eyes
She sings his lullaby again tonight
As she kisses the stone and her son good bye
Screenwriting Plot Structure Masterclass - Michael Hauge [FULL INTERVIEW] via FilmCourage.com.
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posted by JellyPopper
The House I Cherish And Hate

~Chapter #1~


Marie and I upendo to adventure. However this time we went overboard. I think this was our LAST adventure."Are we there yet!" Marie alisema impatiently. "Yep its right here!" I alisema exited. "You wanna um... walk in fist Marzia?" Marie asked. "Sure!" I alisema starting to rethink this whole abandon house thing. I walked in slowly and held the door open for Marie. "Are wewe sure wewe wanna do this?" Marie said. "Of course, we will. Trust me" I alisema trying to convince Marie not to leave. "Okay i'll look for chakula and wewe look for beds and stuff if we stay over night."...
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Dear record of my misfortune I was correct. Today I walked into class and saw a huge pile of letters on my desk. When I opened them I realized that it was hate mail. It was so stupid, people were getting angry at me for what I did to Jessica when it was her fault! They were saying things like : Die emo bitch, kahaba die, bitchy whore. That last maoni doesn't even apply to me! I haven't even had my first kiss and they are saying this stuff to me! There was one letter that was bot mean even though I don't know who sent it. Inside it alisema roses are red violets are blue I don't now why they hurt you, if wewe want I'll tell them to can it, all because I upendo wewe Janet. I don't know who wrote wewe upendo poem rhyme thing but I upendo wewe too!
posted by jedigirl
The siku my life became zaidi than reality was when I was seven.
2 months earlier, my mother had passed away due to reasons I never understood. All I knew was she was gone and Dad wouldn't talk about it.
I was sitting at my desk, watching the snow fall out the classroom window. The window started to frost over quickly. I turned back to the teacher, but she was frosting over too. I realized it was my vision frosting over. I rubbed my eyes to stop it, but it only made it worse. So I sat in my dawati and let it take over.
I soon found myself in a field of dandelions and fireflies. I looked around...
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posted by Isabella_17
Is It True wewe Lie?
Is It True wewe Hate Me?
Is It True wewe Want Him?
Is It True You're My Best Friend?
Is It True wewe Enjoy Hurting Me?
Is It True wewe Like Me Crying?
Is It True wewe Talk Behind My Back?
Is It True wewe Tell People Our Bussiness?
Is It True I Hurt You?
Is It True wewe Back Stabbed Me?
Is It True wewe Let Me Believe The Lies?
Is It True wewe Let Me Call wewe My True Bestfriend When wewe Weren't?
Is It True.....?

This is A Poem Hope Yuh Enjoy It Btw Tell Me What Yuh Think And This Is Just About Me Gettin Hurt After Being Stupid Enough To Believe Her Lies She Wasnt A True Bestfriend
posted by AuthorForPooh
Her eyes were moto red,
as if they were
lit from anger.

I dont understand
why wewe are
mad at me.

Why wewe shoot
those harsh words
at me.

Aimed like bullets,
piercing my soul.
And It cant heal.

I never can dodge them.
The words hit me,
and I fall back.

My Marafiki ask me:
"What's wrong?"
"Can I help?"

But they cant help.
Because I dont understand,
why wewe are mad.

Why do wewe have to do
what wewe do to me?
Why does it give wewe
joy to harm me?
Why?
Why are people bullies?
Why dont my Marafiki take action?
Why cant wewe tell me WHY?
posted by TheAmyPond
She stopped dead in her tracks. She was startled. Her voice was completely gone. Shockingly, she saw that the hooded silhouette in front of her wasn't her mother; she did not know who it was.
Slowly, as not to alarm the unwanted visitor, she reached out for her ballpoint pen and dug it as deep as she could into the neck of the intruder. The mess was horrific, blood all over her face as well as his clothes, but Emily stayed strong. She clumsily tumbled off her kitanda and ran as fast as she could downstairs to the phone.
She hastily pressed any buttons she could until she'd finally keyed in the number...
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posted by para-scence
"Cosette!" Echo shouted. We ran over to each other, and hugged. She nearly squeezed the life out of me, but I didn't care; I'd missed her so much.

"Echo! I'm so glad to see you!"

"Ahem," a voice said. Echo smiled and rolled her eyes, and took a step back. Asher smiled as he hugged me, and kissed my cheek. I laid my head on his chest.

"I missed wewe too," I told him. He chuckled.

"Come on!" Echo alisema impatiently. "Let's go do something! Anything! I just don't want to deal with this mushy-teen-love crap." Asher and I rolled our eyes, but smiled. I told Grandma we were going to hang out.

"See you...
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posted by para-scence
I admit that I kind of slipped into a depression. I wasn't sure what to think about anything. I started to feel like I couldn't trust anyone. I wanted so bad to drink, and forget for at least a little while, but I couldn't when someone was always home.

That was the only bad thing about not being with Drew anymore; I rarely go the chance to drink. I started going into withdrawal as well. I couldn't keep control of my emotions, I felt like I was going insane sometimes. I had zaidi stress related seizures, zaidi than I usually do while on medication. I've had a lot of headaches, I've been sweating...
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posted by athena305
Streetlamps, houses, gates, remotes, books, CDs and televisions. Brothers. Pairs. Each has a twin. In this chaotic place of materials the world has come to be, everything has a brother. But brothers are family. And family is connected somehow; if not kwa blood, then kwa what?

Energy.

Look hard. At everything that has a brother. A line of energy casts a connection between the two. The energy, with its harsh glares and cold looks creates the strongest and most complex bonds. Strong because of their brotherhood. Complex because of its invisibility. For there is power in invisibility. Cold, cruel power. The power to be a persecutor with no chance of being a victim. The power to twist and squeeze but not feel the wrenching pain of your twists.

Now, wewe ask, what is left? Cruel, invisible energy. For a cruel, invisible world.







This is my first time uandishi in stream of consciousness. I know it's short but don't judge me too harshly.
posted by Sonicishot
It was late at night and the lights were out, and i couldn't see at all. So i crawled on the floor dragging my hand with me because i needed to feel my way too. I bumped into three friends. Ike, Roy, and Sheeda. I screetched. Ike covered my mouth. "SHUT UP!!!" He whispered. Roy chuckled. Sheeda followed my hand. So did Ike and Roy. I tried to stand up, but my head hit the table. I rubbed the back of my head and crawled out from underneith it. I slowly slid my hand across the ukuta to tafuta for the power switch. "Whoever this is, wewe are very cute!!!!" she alisema feeling around me to reconize...
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This is something I'm working on.. It's the first long piece I've attempted. People often told me I'm too good at imagery and description to write anything short. Perhaps I use too much imagery? I'm curious about what wewe guys think.

I already know it's a bit shakey at some parts. I still need to do some revising. I revise every time I finish kusoma a book. I feel each book teaches me zaidi and zaidi about writing.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Welcome to Birchmoss
preview
(This was just a part of my planning and organization. It is subject to change)

Violet kept her skeletons right where they belonged. Hidden away...
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posted by serenacullen93
I wish that my mother was here that stupid drunk driver had never been born it was my fault that she died that she is now six feet under the ground . I remember that night like it was yesterday I had snuck out with my Marafiki to go to this party down town . Things got out control I called my mom from the side of the road for my mother to come get me one of the guys from the party zoomed down the road and hit my mother head on . I saw it I was right out side the car I saw the red hot metal cut into my mother flesh ending her life with one feel-swoop like the cut of a blade. The ones who should...
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posted by KatiiCullen94
today is the siku i get to see my girl. Kessy, my darling girl.And today nothing is going to stop me.
i rushed into my best clothes that i even selected the siku before, i had to make a good impression for her. i hope she still loves me as much as she did.

I haven't seen Kessy in 3 weeks. Her doctors say i can be anywhere near her, i might "contaminate" her. My ass, the only disease i can give her is jsutmy upendo for her.
But sometimes i wonder that her doctors dont know whats really best for her.. But they word is better then mine.
I sits all day, alone. No family to visit her. Her red hair growing,...
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