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From Creative Corner: Chase Allie

Here's a snippet from TeenTalker thecagedDOLL's prologue on Creative Corner. Are you curious about what will happen in her story?
STORY thecagedDOLL

It was midday when I first met her. There was really nothing special about her. She was a plain typical teenager who talks like the rest of the teenagers—like me. However, the moment Allie and I started talking, the first time we spoke, she breathed metaphors. Allie had a way of convincing people, bringing them into her mind, taking them aback with the way she thinks.

She's smart—not the kind of smart that would make teachers pick you as their personal favorite. She's into books, she reads a lot, she shares what's on her mind. The first time we met, I thought for a second she'd rant about makeup, or fashion, or even boys. But  Allie was not that kind of girl. She plays chess, sudoku, video games, music. Have I mentioned that she reads? She reads a lot. Allie is that kind of smart.

She got me hooked, not instantly but she got me hooked in a way that I wanted her to take me to more metaphors, to more Allie quotes, to more of what is not seen or even understood by most teenagers. She brought me to a place I've never been to. Apparently, it's inside her mind and maybe somewhere in between the traveling, that's where I fell. Hard.

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Got your own story to share? Post them in our Creative Corner board on TeenTalk! To read more of this prologue, click on this link.

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Eren Rodriguez 3 hours ago

They say time heals all wounds, but it has been ages - is heartbreak exempted?

I have forgotten when was the last time we shared a smile - the last time when I saw the glow in your eyes and the last time when you whispered an I love you to me. I have forgotten when, but here I am - writing to you again.

I do not know if you will read this or you will just add this one to my proses and poems that you left unread, but you see, I am still hoping. I am mailing the pain of us to the gods out there - hoping they can take the pain away. I should have gotten over you, but instead of forgetting and accepting our ending, I am writing about us in tissue sheets, carving about us on trees, telling about us on the back of my journals, hoping that a thousand or a million write ups about us, can make me forget about what happened.

I am writing, waiting for the point where I can no longer write anymore, for I have none to tell - but when? I have nothing in me anymore, but the memories of us - and no matter how hard I try put those to its own grave, the memories grow back like lilies in the swamp - painful and beautiful at the same time.

No matter how hard I try to silence those and put it at the back of my mind, those ring back, playing like the favorite song we used to listen. They say heartbreaks turn into poetry and that is what happening to us - but poetry should be dulcet and dreamy, why does ours sound like pain and agony? They say time heals all wounds, but it has been ages - is heartbreak exempted? Darling, I guess not.

Anne Luna 5 hours ago
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