By 8th Grade, Christopher Shaw The house was always quiet, concealed in stillness so heavy that even the clock hesitated to click. Margaret sat by her window, staring out at the beauty of nature as it once was. She held her hand close to her lap, her fingers curled like withering flowers, silently crying in despair and pleading for help. Outside, the world continued moving, oblivious of the anguish and pain she was holding onto.  She couldn't remember the last time she spoke

The gas station flickered its lights like a sign that it was taking its last breath for the day. The sun was yearning to set, an orange...

It was a cold night, the wind blowing against these two friends' faces. The tree leaves were swaying against the wind, howling as the air...