leave your legacy in gold, emmi

[clayton nathaniel griggs]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: D0D4D7; border: #526976 solid 9px; width: 410px; padding: 5 5 5 5px;] leave your legacy in gold on the plaques that line the hall Clayton had been working his butt off lately. He had been living in his own apartment, working a part time job to take care of that and had to be at school almost every day. He rarely had free time anymore, even his weekends had been taken up. Clay wasn't sure if he was becoming ill or just flat out exhausted, but he did know that he needed a break. Sitting in class, listening to the teachers voice was giving him a migraine. Clay's English professor had a somewhat monotone voice that just drug on and on, his words never seemed to end. He was about to freak out, but instead he raised his hand and got excused from the class properly. He had scooped his things up in a hurry and left the classroom, headed straight for the court yard. Clay did some of his best thinking out there, it gave him inspiration; being in the sun and have the slight breeze through his short, dark brown hair. Leaving the side of the Academy and making it to the court yard, first thing Clay did was take a deep breath. He had been spending a lot of his time indoors and it felt great to be outside. Clay made his way over to a large oak tree and sat beneath it's large branches, throwing his back-pack to the side. Leaning his head back against the tree Clay took in his surroundings. Clay had been coming to this Academy for two years and could never get over how beautiful it was. Paris seemed to him to be one of the most beautiful places. Sure he hadn't been out of France, but he knew even if he were to leave he would come straight back. This was his home town, he was born and raised here and would die here too. Clay was glad to be out of the stuffy classroom and to be outside. He felt a lot of inspiration running through him right now, so he reached over to his pack and grabbed out his spiral bound notebook and a pencil. He pressed the pencil down to the paper and began to write. Clay tended to write a lot of short stories about nonsense. He liked to write about people with magical abilities, he chose them because they had so much power they just had given to them when they were born and sometimes he wished he could be more like them. Biting softly on the inside of his cheek, Clay began to write about a beautiful girl, with long, black hair whom was the daughter of the gods. He pictured her having lovely tan skin and being a tad bit exotic, Clay wrote up a description of her and drew a quick sketch of what she looked like in his mind. Clay wasn't very artistic, but the picture came out nice enough and made a small smile come to his face. Clay began to write about this girl and her life, how he imagined she would have lived on Mount. Olympus and such. He had become so engrossed in his writing Clay forgot about the world around him. words 530 tagged emmi sofia longoria notes <33 coded by becky! of caution 2.0

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[emmi sofia longoria]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #f1f1f1] Silk sheet, blue dawn, Colgate, tongue warm Won't you quit your crying? I can't sleep One minute I'm a little sweetheart Today the class were working on accents and the teacher felt that Emmi shouldn’t bother to attend. She had most accents done but he figured that he couldn’t teach her given that she couldn’t hear him. He was her least favourite teacher and she was often ‘excused’ from his class on the premise that she didn’t need to learn it. She walked around the campus, taking in the beauty of it all, whilst class was in the session the whole place was serene. She walked to her locker, putting her books in and grabbing just a notebook and a pen, if she had nothing else to do she might as well work on her monologue. It wasn’t for anything special but she liked to always have one piece of work ongoing at a time and at the moment it was a monologue, written from the view of a bystander at a school shooting. She liked the emotion in it, the turmoil and the remorse, one monologue could hold so many emotions as long as it was played properly and that was why she loved acting. It was the magic of being able to capture a moment and replay it so many times, even if you’d never been there to start with. As she walked into the courtyard she headed for her favourite tree but she noticed that it was already occupied. She decided to keep walking past the boy, maybe even end up sitting on the other side. As she approached she noticed his drawing and she couldn’t help but peek, it was pretty good though she guessed he wasn’t at the academy as an artist. “Nice drawing” she said with a smile but also signed with her hands, it had become a habit, really just so people were aware that she was deaf, but also to find out if they could sign. She’d been surprised at the amount of people at the academy who could sign, she’d expected no-one to be able to but there were quite a few. The majority of her teachers had joined her adult sign language class that she did in the evenings but not the one who didn’t like her. They noticed her talent and wanted to give her a chance to really use it, and then knew it would be easier if they spoke her language. Emmi wished she could draw, but it certainly wasn’t her speciality. In fact, her drawings hadn’t really progressed since she was about eight, stick-men were her forte. She was amazing at colouring in though, she never went out of the lines and that was why her cousins were always begging her to help them colour. She actually found it kind of therapeutic but she also knew that if she was to colour out in public, people would think she was mad. She wondered what course the boy was enrolled in, it certainly wasn’t acting, maybe writing, she’d met quite a few writers recently and this boy could easily be one of them. It was harder than you’d expect to pinpoint peoples major by looking at them, everyone looked arty but unless they were clutching a collection of novels or had a camera around their neck, it was hard to be specific. And next minute you are an absolute creep tags: closed word count: five four four lyrics: obsessions by marina and the diamonds this template was made by madcap @ caution.