http://slow.writerscafe.org/myranda The original writings of author Maraina Cross en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776068423 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 I am theone that decorates their arms with colorful Band-Aids.I am theone who takes their temperature.I am theone who gives their arms a tight hug.I am theone to put the many bracelets on their wrist.I am oneof the first faces they see when they wake up in their rooms... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/myranda/2031208/ “How areyou feeling”: “I’m Fine.”; I feel tired,sick and weak but don’t want to say. I need to be strong.“Are youin pain?”: “No, I’m Fine.”; Yes! Itshoots up my back like a sharp pain. I need to be brave.“Do .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/myranda/2031204/ 1.     Putconceller on so nobody sees your imperfections*Don’t want anyone to see how youreally look* 2.     Contouryour face so you look like your cheeks are puckered*Make sure it looks like your cheeksare always hol.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/myranda/2007717/ Do they look at me?Or is it the other things they see? Do they see a cripple?One that is weak and feeble. Do they only see the inspiration? Or do they also think abomination? Do they not look past the outer skin?Do they care to look within?.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/myranda/2003864/ This is about my first Ramen experience. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/myranda/2003863/ 12 word story http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/myranda/1770870/ The Girl:I was trying to keep my eyes on anything,anyone but him. The chewed up piece of gum stuck to the bus aisle floor, an Italianold man dressed in his Sunday best with his hair and curly cue grey mustache withnot a hair out place or sticky yellowish substance that I hoped to God w.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/myranda/1768893/ How many times have you cried because of me?In silence or alone. Ten, twenty…How many times have you felt powerless because of me from seeingme in a hospital bed?Fighting for my life.Thirteen, twenty-one…How many times have I turned an awful color on you?.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/myranda/1768848/ The rain pelted down on my head as I looked at the grave, mytears mixing in the rain. Victoria Ellen Smith: Nov. 14, 1992-Jan. 1,1992- May your baby wings take you far. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/myranda/1354070/ His hand, I should say claw, tightened around my throat; hisblack sharp nails drawing blood from the back of my neck where it slid down myback, staining my shirt. “You cheated on me,” he snarled and eyes glowing a dullyellow, “and now you will pay the price.”&ld.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/myranda/1347051/ April 16th, 1995It was a cold night in the city that never sleeps and hereI, Max Galewan, sit in an empty bar with nothing to do but drink. All myfriends had serious jobs or a wife to go home to but me, I haven’t had a girlfriend since I was in middle school. Right then the door open.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/myranda/1342127/ Seeing your smile, is my everything  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/myranda/1324098/ The color Red has always meant passion, fire, lust, andromance to us. That’s not what it means to me anymore. Now it’s a color thatmeans anger, rage, greed, and blood. Blood that is now splattered on our small apartment bedroom walls, looks as thou it was dramatically painted on... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/myranda/1316168/ People look People stareBut some act like don’t careThey see my colored hairNot me sitting in a chairThey don’t see the tubes that comes from my neck That can sometimes hold me back From being me But they see a girl who likes to be different and funnyA.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/myranda/1270860/ Alone for days, months, and yearin the darkness of my tower, being shunned for what I am, a vamp wolf hybrid.My own mother didn’t want me, didn’t love me because of the filth that I am.Tainted, dirty blood runs though my veins. So I was left to the tough skinnedstubborn gobli.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/myranda/1263861/ I’m sorry I’m different I’m sorry that I need help from time to timeI’m sorry that my legs don’t work or my hands don’t do whatI want them to doBut what I’m most sorry about Is youI’m sorry you can’t see pass a person&rs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/myranda/1246827/ I was a stone wall hard, stiff and not easy to break evenbefore my car accident. I didn’t care about anything or anyone. The people inschool would call me names like “Alien” or “Robot”. I would kill myself if Icould but my parents watched me all the time. Now .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/myranda/1220136/ The first time I held you in the hospital, I felt so happythat your father and I adopted you. Looking down at your face peaking threw theblanket, I knew then you were already growing up too fast for my liking. Sureenough six years passed in a blur. Your father and I raised you not to look .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/myranda/1178987/ Shunned, looked at with pity or disgust. This is how mostpeople look at others that are different; freaks and outcast. People don’t takethe time of day to see what are in these people that are a little too differentthan them. They see them sitting, alone, but don’t care. They w.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/myranda/1174668/ A twist on Greek hero's and mythology threw a teenager eyes. But she doesn't what she's getting into or who she really is http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/myranda/1172600/ A young little girlAlways in painAnd sometimes Can’t go out a play for daysShe can’t walk or run Like other little kidsBut yet smiles So incent and sweetDoesn’t show the consent pain or griefThat she goes through each dayBut sees herself .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/myranda/1158923/