Post by Morgan Chase on Apr 13, 2008 7:49:55 GMT -5
((Please try to match my length of post or exceed. Thanks!))
This could not be happening. Morgan stared blankly at her very empty sheet of paper. The thin black ink pen felt heavy in her slender hands and quivered, ready to run smoothly over the white sheet. Morgan had written a three page fictional story that would easily pay her rent for that month, and had placed it on her desk in her room. Unfortunately for her, she had not latched her small window properly, and it blew open, scattering the papers around the room and soaking them with the rain that came in. The rain now pattered gently, yet still in a torrent against the carefully placed window of Johnson's, causing Morgan to lose herself.
Whenever it rained, it simply lulled Morgan into another world. She was so creative and had such a vivid imagination that it would sometimes get the better of her. She could sometimes be found dancing around in her room to the sound of crashing thunder, as if she was at an elegant ball. Or one might find her singing (Making the words as she went along) to the sound of whistling wind. At the current moment though, the rain was simply lulling her into a seemingly dreamy state, where she was dancing around in her head.
The tinkling of the small bell above the door brought her back to her senses as yet another person made there way into the small diner out of the rain. She took no notice of the person, and was quite uninterested by them as they made there way to one of the empty tables near hers. She had to write a new story or somehow remember the one she had already written by tomorrow morning, or she would be put into debt, eventually to be evicted.
Heaving a frustrated sigh, she dropped her head into her hands onto the table. Her ink pen fell out of her limp hand and rolled off of the table and across the floor a little ways, but Morgan didn't notice. She was far too worried about how she would come up with a story by the next morning.
This could not be happening. Morgan stared blankly at her very empty sheet of paper. The thin black ink pen felt heavy in her slender hands and quivered, ready to run smoothly over the white sheet. Morgan had written a three page fictional story that would easily pay her rent for that month, and had placed it on her desk in her room. Unfortunately for her, she had not latched her small window properly, and it blew open, scattering the papers around the room and soaking them with the rain that came in. The rain now pattered gently, yet still in a torrent against the carefully placed window of Johnson's, causing Morgan to lose herself.
Whenever it rained, it simply lulled Morgan into another world. She was so creative and had such a vivid imagination that it would sometimes get the better of her. She could sometimes be found dancing around in her room to the sound of crashing thunder, as if she was at an elegant ball. Or one might find her singing (Making the words as she went along) to the sound of whistling wind. At the current moment though, the rain was simply lulling her into a seemingly dreamy state, where she was dancing around in her head.
The tinkling of the small bell above the door brought her back to her senses as yet another person made there way into the small diner out of the rain. She took no notice of the person, and was quite uninterested by them as they made there way to one of the empty tables near hers. She had to write a new story or somehow remember the one she had already written by tomorrow morning, or she would be put into debt, eventually to be evicted.
Heaving a frustrated sigh, she dropped her head into her hands onto the table. Her ink pen fell out of her limp hand and rolled off of the table and across the floor a little ways, but Morgan didn't notice. She was far too worried about how she would come up with a story by the next morning.
