Non Fiction Creative
Excerpts of stories written
The Father-Daughter Dance
5:00 pm-- I can feel the heat of the curling iron radiating on my skin. The way my hair bounces perfectly onto my shoulders brings light to my eyes. I sit at my mothers' vanity, in the front bedroom on the second floor of my house. I’m wearing a lilac purple dress( my favorite color at the time), still unzipped in the back from rushing to get into it. As my mother continues to put the finishing touches on my hair, I buckle the straps to my white, glittery heels, knowing that I could be late. Excited, I run downstairs to greet my father, who seemingly is hiding a bouquet behind his back. “Ready to go!?” he smiled and I happily nodded.....except this isn’t my story, this story belongs to every girl in my first-grade class. ↟
The Fossils of our Youth
There is a small waterfall that flows through the Northeast Ohio forests, a wound from a glacial blade that sliced past sandstone and shale, of what once was and what is now. Its water,
the color of cigarette butts, collapses into a pool of murky foam. Surrounding the stream are giant rocks that have been weathered by floods and feet. If you look closely, you’ll see little
initials engraved into them, like modern-day hieroglyphics, from tourists and lovers of the past. I used to trace my fingers around these initials and create movies of the people who carved themselves into the Earth. Had these people made it through time, or was this small piece of them only forever fossilized in stone?
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