Status ~

What I'd realllly like to do right now, is strangle a certain person, the run off with The Doctor and come back in four years when life is perfect....haha :D

Wednesday, November 5, 2014


~Excerpt from A Light in the Dark~

    Morgan slammed the door behind her, and locked it. Fists clenched, nearly shaking in rage, her breathing heavy, she grabbed the books off her bed and hurled them across the room. The tears flowed freely now, as Morgan doubled over, her arms embracing herself as if she was trying to hold her broken self together as the pain overwhelmed her. It was as if she could physically feel the pain that was mentally ripping her apart.

With a deep gasping breath she reached for her knife in the drawer next to her bed. Hidden under her lipsticks, eyeliners, and tissues. The emotions were suffocating her; she had to let them out. It was the only way that came close to  expressing how lonely and hurt she felt. So alone. Her family was taken from her, her friends were taken from her, her home was taken from her. And what was she left with? A poor excuse for a family that was trying their best to make her her own worst nightmare? People who wanted her to be “normal” when normal meant being a slut, degrading all those around her, cursing God’s name in all that she did, not caring about any person or any thing except her self. What sort of life was that?

Her arms were throbbing now, as little red drops trickled down her fingers. With a hoarse scream of frustration, Morgan threw her knife as hard as she could at the wall where it stuck fast imbedded a full inch into the wall. She sank to her knees, sobbing, her head resting against the side of the bed.

Why God?! Why! What did I ever do to deserve this? What did I ever do to warrant this hell I am stuck in? Why won’t you help me God? Do you not care?!

Morgan’s fingernails scratched across the wooden floor then curled around the bible that she cherished and yanked it out. She stared down at it for a second, then flung it to the floor with her other books. It skidded across the wood then flopped open.
Huddled against the side of the bed, Morgan clutched her legs to her chest, her bloody arm smearing across her legs. She stared blankly; it hurt to think. Minutes passed. With a deep breath Morgan reached a shaky hand out and pulled her bible close to her, feeling a sharp stab of guilt for her outburst. The bible had landed open to the eighth chapter of John. As she was about to close the bible, words seemed to jump off the page at her, demanding she read them. Jesus spoke to them again, saying, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”

More tears spilled down her face and she silently implored, Dear God I’m sorry… I’m so messed up… I’m sorry… help me… show me where this light is you promised because my life feels like a freaking black hole right now. If you’re really out there... show me some light I beg you.

Sunday, March 16, 2014

After the Fire

A scene from Forever Sixteen.

     Tiny as she was, the girl was dead weight in Ryland's arms and he was beginning to tire. He glanced down at her, her usually pale face was turning a deathly pale blue. When he was sure they were far enough away from the burning hospital, he collapsed onto a grassy lawn in front of a store whose darkened windows showed it was closed. He cradled her in his arms with her body half lying in the grass, half leaning limply against his chest as he checked her vitals. He could feel no breath at all coming from her cold lips and her pulse was so faint he couldn't be sure if he wasn't entirely imagining it. He gave a low moan as he watched her.  

     He was silly to think she'd wake up. She hadn't woken up in 10 years and even if she had been close to waking up the past few weeks, she was weak. He couldn't expect her to have survived all the smoke. No. There was no use trying to save her. She was gone.... Ryland's cheeks were suddenly wet. How had that happened. Don't be stupid. Ryland scolded himself, people die all the time, this is no different.  

    He forced himself to look away from the girl, watching people running frantically across the streets, sirens blaring and the black smoke billowing up into the gray sky. Ryland shifted position, then something tugged his sleeve. 

   The girl... 

    Sure enough, her slender fingers were unmistakably curled into the fabric of his jacket and they had not been a second ago. 

    Desperately grabbing for even the slightest hope, Ryland laid the girl flat on her back in the grass, one of hands supporting her head. Gently he set his mouth against hers and breathed in and then out. In and then out. Just as he's done numerous times as a paramedic. 

    Sitting back for a moment, he inhaled sharply. Her eyes were open. Two terrified brown eyes were staring back at him. The girl tried frantically to breath, gasping for air, but within a few seconds her eyes rolled back her head once again. After giving her CPR twice more, Ryland was finally able to make the girl breath on her own. Supported by Ryland's arms she struggled to sit upright, coughing and choking from all the smoke she'd inhaled.

     And Ryland, although almost giddy with relief that she was alive, and even more impossibly, awake, was flustered as to what he would say to her now that she was awake. Though he had spent almost the past year trying to wake up the mysterious girl, now that she was really awake, he was suddenly flooded with doubt, I don't even know who she is.. What she's like.. Who's she going to remember.. She doesn't know me.. 

     Ryland's thoughts were interrupted as the girl tried to speak, her voice coming out horse and intelligible and ending in a fit of coughing. When she had regained her breath, she tried again, speaking more forcefully this time, her melodic voice suddenly bursting out after years of imprisonment. "What the hell happened?!" 

     Ryland was too shocked to say anything for a moment. She had a distinct accent he'd never heard before, so very different from himself and all the people he'd ever met. Then, recovering himself, he responded slowly, trying to be calm.
"Well there was a fire in the hospital.. I had to get you out... They're still trying to get the fire under control."

The girl just nodded grimly.

"Um.." Ryland wasn't sure how to ask, but he had to know, "what's your name?"

The girl stared at him for a moment, then spoke again with effort, it was clear speech was still difficult for her, "I'm Tessa."

Ryland smiled, "Unique name! I'm.."

The girl named Tessa cut him off, "Ryland... Right?"

"Yeah...I'm Ryland... How.." Ryland looked at her in surprise, "you could hear me, couldn't you?"

Tessa smiled for the first time, it made her look different..beautiful really...

"Yeah... I heard.. Well.. Everything."

Ryland's face flushed.
"You mean..everything... Like.. Everything?" Ryland shifted his eyes uncomfortably, "like this whole last year? Or just recently?"

Tessa frowned, "A whole year? I hadn't realized it had been so long since you first came..." She stopped to gasp for air, "but yes... I've heard everything since I first was put in this coma."

Monday, March 10, 2014


Hello! I know I haven't posted in ages, I rarely have time to write during the school year, but here's a little snippet... the only thing I've written since school started. It's rather dark... its from a book called A Light in the Dark, and is based mostly off of nightmares.


She is taken into a building and waits in reception area. It’s dark and cold and not at all pleasant. Soon her name is called.. “Morgan Greene.” She doesn’t want to go, but she is taken back through the doors, led down a narrow hall, and into a small room. The door closes behind her and she hears a click as it is locked. It’s a cold room, tile floors, cold white walls, metal counters with evil looking metallic instruments and syringes and shiny needles lying in perfect rows.. waiting to be used. The room is dimly lit and has lots of high-tech computers and screens on long metal arms attached to the wall, and there is a cushioned table for a patient to lay on in the middle. Why is she here? They said they just wanted to talk to her….
Shivers run down her spine.

Click. The door opens and a Man enters. He tells her to sit down on the cushioned table and warily she obeys. “Tell me, tell me everything about you. All of your deep dark secrets.”  The Man’s cold voice pierces through her head, as he stares at her sardonically with eyes that don’t quite seem human somehow. She stares back, remaining silent. The Man then tells her to close her eyes. She stares, distrusting him, then… slowly.. blinks. Something cold is clamped onto her arm. Panicking, she struggles but is unable to move, her muscles somehow forced to remain limp.

She is forced to lie down, her back against the table and struggling to open her eyes, she catches glimpse of the Man’s calm, evil face as he fastens cold metal bindings around her neck, waist, around her legs just above the knee, her ankles, upper arms and lastly, her wrists. His cold fingers trace across her skin, across her shoulders, and mark an X on her neck with a dull fingernail. Then he removes a stretchy band from her arm. Instantly her muscles are free and she twists violently, but stops with a gasp as the razor sharp metal fastenings tear into her skin. She feels sick as hot blood trickles down her stomach neck and wrists. As a last resort she gives a piercing shriek, but the Man only chuckles. “It’s no use wasting your breath sweetheart, no one can hear you. This room is sound proof.” Then he refastens the stretchy band back on her arm, though not as tightly this time. She can still open her eyes and move slightly, however she is significantly weakened now.

“Now,” says the Man, “Talk to me. Tell me everything!”

She hisses back through clenched teeth,  “NO!”

“Tsk tsk.” The Man shakes his head in mock sadness, drawing a long needle from the table, and after examining her arm for a moment, touches it gently to her upper arm. Unable to help her self, she flinches. Needles have always been her worse fear. She hated them. The Man stares with a look of sickening calm pleasure straight into her terrified eyes…

The needle pierces her skin.

As a searing jab of pain shoots up her arm, she fights back a scream, defiantly remaining silent.

The Man releases his grip for a moment and raises his eyebrows mockingly. “Not even a whimper? Hmm this is a brave one.”

She clenches her teeth and glares back.

The Man shrugs and forces the needle deep into her flesh, leaving it there as she writhes in agony, the metal bands continuing to dig deeper into her skin.

Again he asks his question. Again she shouts her defiant answer, “NO!”

And again and again he drives the long needles into her skin. It is pain worse than anything she’s ever felt, but she still she refuses to give in. Not even a single scream or cry for mercy escapes her lips. And at length her endurance seems to frustrate the Man, a scowl starts to form on his previously clam face. She notices this and drawing strength from his frustration, she gives a mocking smile, “There is only one person on earth who I trust with my secrets. It’s not you and I will never, ever tell you my secrets!”

The Man’s face is contorted with fury as he slaps her across the face, making black spots dance before her eyes and preventing her from saying anything else.

“So you’re rather proud of yourself aren’t you? Think you’re so brave and strong you little bitch.. well I’m not done with you yet, oh no. Now the fun begins.” With a demonic smile the man stands over her. Her heart pounds with dread as he slides his cold hand up her shirt, and pulling it up, he exposes her white stomach. He grabs a long gleaming knife from the table and setting it against her stomach, rips across in a quick motion. She lets out a faint moan as the blade slices deeply into her skin, and tears begin to run down her cheeks.

“TELL ME!” The Man demands.

The pain is ten times worse than the needles, but still she clenches her teeth and shakes her head violently.

He slashes across her stomach again and again til her whole abdomen is lacerated; blood dripping everywhere.

Again he poses his question and again he is refused.

Now he moves to her wrists, removing the stretchy band, but even without it she is too weak to offer much resistance. He slices lengthwise down her arm, and unable to help herself she screams.

“Ready to talk?” The Man smiles hopefully.

“NEVER!” She screams back, unable to maintain any control over her emotions any longer, the pain is too intense.

He slices deeper, still she screams, “Never!”

Blood is flowing freely, dripping to the floor, covering her and covering the Man’s hands. He doesn’t seem to care. She is growing weaker by the moment, her skin deathly white; she would not last much longer now. Her anguished screams fill the room. And still he cuts deeper.

The pain is too much; she cannot stand it any longer. She gave one last imploring cry, “Jesus, Mary, Joseph save me!”

Something is grabbing her wrists, shaking her.

“Morgan! Morgan wake up!”

Suddenly her eyes flew open and it was Jake leaning over her as she lay next to him in bed, her whole body trembling. He was holding her hands, a look of utmost concern on his face. “Morgan.. are you okay? What happened? Another bad dream?”

Morgan could only nod as she sobbed with relief, hugging Jake tightly and hiding her face in his shoulder. He stroked her hair gently. “I woke up and you were screaming and thrashing.. are you sure you’re ok?”

“It was horrible.” Morgan whispered back, shivering.

“I’m sorry..” Jake kissed her and pulled the blankets back up around her. Cuddling up against him with her head resting on his chest, his arms holding her, and her arms protectively around the baby in her ever growing belly, Morgan felt safe and slowly drifted back to sleep.

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

New Story!

New Story!

Forever sixteen
By Krystal A. Walsh

I grimaced at myself in the mirror, running my toothbrush across my front teeth one last time to make sure they were completely clean before my dentist appointment. Then with a sigh, I put my toothbrush away, and walked out of my bathroom, into my bedroom, which was my safe haven. The large attic room, with large windows looking out over the park, and cozy rugs covering the wooden floor. I twirled around in front of the full length mirror to make sure my dress and leggings were still neat and unwrinkled.

Forest green dress and brown leggings, one of my many favorite outfits. It made me feel like a tree nymph out of a book. My friends always laughed when I said things like that, I am so booksish! But I really can’t help it, I inherited it from my parents. They’re the ones who moved here to Avondale Colorado before I was born because it reminded them of Anne of Green Gables and Lord of the Rings. I smiled, I love my parents and all their bookish craziness.
Behind me my window banged open, letting in a gust of cold March wind.  I shivered. Maybe I should  wear a scarf. I tried on my favorite red one. No, ew…I look like a Christmas tree. I made a face and grabbed my white one instead, this looked a lot better.

“Tessa!” My mom’s voice called me from downstairs, “Are you ready? We need to leave!”

“Coming Mom!” I yelled, taking one last look at myself in the mirror. Good thing I don’t wear makeup very much, I thought to myself. I don’t know how girls have time to put makeup on every single day! They must wake up early. I hate getting up early, I’m more of a night owl. 

“Tessa!” my Mom called again.
I turned to grab my schoolbooks, and my purse then hurried to my door, tripping over one of my many piles of books in the process.  I carefully checked them over, making sure none of them were hurt then dashed down the spiral staircase from my room.

Mom was waiting for me by the door, keys in hand.

“All ready?”  she asked.

“Yup” I made a face, I hated going to the dentists.

Mom just laughed and we headed out to the car in the cool March breeze.


Once at the Dentist’s office I leaned back in the chair staring at the stupid posters on the ceiling, while the dentist talked to my mom. Dumb cartoons, ugly fish, talking teeth with huge sparkly smiles…..typical dentist office. I sighed. Why couldn’t they put something more useful, like random Lord Of The Rings Trivia, or a list of World Records, or– suddenly I overheard what the dentist was saying to my mom

“She’ll need to get her wisdom teeth out very soon, before they become infected”

My mom was nodding, “Okay, yes we will schedule an appointment for after her birthday. Maybe in 3 weeks or so?”

I groaned as they continued talking. I’d always dreaded getting my teeth pulled ever since I was 7 when I’d had a baby tooth pulled, and had technical difficulties which caused the pain medication to wear off before they were done pulling my tooth. That had been absolutely the worse experience of my life.

At least my mom was nice enough to schedule it for after my birthday, but still…. I shivered. No don’t think about it, I told myself.

Soon my mom finished talking to the receptionist, and we walked out to the car.

“I scheduled an appointment with the oral surgeon for April 3rd, for you to get your wisdom teeth out.”  Mom said.

“Mom do I have to get my teeth pulled?” I pleaded, giving her puppy eyes.

“I’m sorry honey, but we don’t want them to cause worse problems. It won’t be like last time, they put you out for this.”

I let out a sigh. I had 3 weeks to find a way out of this.


     On her way back home, mom dropped me off at my boyfriend Patrick’s house. We studied together twice a week; him helping me with Math and Science, and me helping him in English and History. I often thought myself that it was funny how we could get along so well, and yet have completely different interests.

I ran up the brick pathway to the front steps of the big two-story house, but as I reached out to knock on the bright red door, it flew open, and Patrick stood there, laughing as I stood there with my hand awkwardly held in the air in front of me.

“Knocking on imaginary doors again my dear delusional bookworm?” he teased.

“Shut up Ricky!” I playfully slapped him, and he gave me that mischievous to-die-for dimpled grin that always made me melt.

We both waved to my mom, who was shaking her head jokingly in disapproval at us as she drove off, then I kicked off my shoes as Ricky closed the door.

“Race you!”

The two of us raced down the hallway, then slid across the wooden floors in our socks, almost slamming into Rick’s older sister who screamed and nearly dropped her cell phone.

We both laughed and ran into the school room as she glared after us murderously. Patrick Murray, or Ricky as I always called him, was the second oldest of 7 children. Besides his older sister Aryn, he had 2 little brothers, Darcie and Sullivan, and 3 younger sisters. Evelyn and Brianna, who were twins, and the cute 3 year old Deirdre. With all these siblings, Ricky’s house was never dull, and I loved it! Though the more quiet Ricky could never quite understand how I actually enjoyed the chaos.

Upstairs in the schoolroom, Darcie and Sullivan were laying on the floor, absorbed in the 6 foot-high model of a Warren-Truss Bridge they were constructing out of wooden skewers and hot glue as a science project. All the Murray boys were very much into building things. Ricky and I carefully made our way across the floor, trying to avoid stepping on any sharp little wooden pieces, and then flopped down on the big squishy couch to study.

“Math first today girly?” Patrick asked.

I let out a sigh, “Fine…math first.” I dropped my precious Chesterton and creative writing books onto the floor next to the couch, and pulled my ghastly Geometry books out of my bag.

Stealing Ricky’s fancy mechanical pencil out of his hand, I began working on the math lesson, handing him my own pink pencil to use instead, and laughing at his exaggerated look of horror.

I finished three geometry problems before I got confused.

“Ricky…Help please?”

“Yup…one second…lemme finish this..” Ricky answered without looking up from where he sat leaning over his book. 
In the bright sunshine coming through the window, his dark auburn hair looked bright red.  Both of Ricky’s parents were from Ireland, having come over to the United States for college, where they met, and the entire Murray family was fully and completely Irish, very friendly, and clannish. They all had brilliant green or blue eyes and everyone had dark auburn or red hair except for Darcie, who’s hair was undeniably black. The Murray’s also all had, to my great enjoyment, unmistakable Irish accents. Even though I had known the Murray’s since I was a little child, I never got tired of hearing their accent, and I would often tease Ricky by imitating his accent until he begged me to stop.

  “Ok I can help you now,” Ricky said suddenly, breaking into my train of thought, and dragging me back to the depressing reality of geometry problems.


  Three hours later, we were finally done with school, and we headed down to the kitchen for lunch.

“Ahh, there you are!” Mrs. Murray smiled cheerfully, “Can you give me a hand with lunch?”

Catching sight of the cheese, olives, red sauce and pizza dough already laid out on the counter I readily agreed as did Patrick, and we started rolling out mini pizzas for each family member. Laughing and talking the whole time, not to mention sampling the olives, cheese, pineapple and ham that sat so temptingly on the counter.

I knew Patrick and his siblings so well, I didn’t even have to ask what each person wanted on their pizza, and I quickly made mine, Evelyn’s and Brianna’s, being interrupted every few minutes by Deirdre’s curious little 3 year old hands sneaking into the food.

“Come on Deirdre, stop eating all the pineapple or there won’t be any left on your pizza!” I said, pulling the cute little culprit away from the counter yet again.
“My tongue ish fwuffy” Deirdre answered me with the wide-eyed seriousness of a three year old, as she showed me her tiny pink tongue.

Patrick, overhearing this, laughed. “That’s what happens when you eat too much pineapple, Squishy.”

At this, Squishy, as the Murray boys called their littlest sister, nervously clutched her tongue as if it would fall off, and asked in a muffled voice, “Wiw it fall off?”

“It might if you eat any more pineapple before the pizzas are done.” Patrick answered, equally serious.

And in the sheer terror of losing her tongue, “Squishy” fled from the room, leaving the rest of us giggling uncontrollably.

When Mrs. Murray turned to put the pizzas in the oven, Patrick began throwing the extra olives in the air and catching them in his mouth, until Aryn walked in and stopped in shocked horror.

“Mom! Patrick is playing with his food again!”

Mrs. Murray turned around just to see Patrick catch the last of the olives in his mouth, and he bowed gracefully, smiling mischievously.
His mom merely shook her head with exasperation, then turned back the oven quickly to hide her smile. Patrick winked at me, setting me off in convulsive giggles, as Aryn rolled her eyes in true older sister fashion and stormed out of the room.

     I had almost forgotten about the less-than-pleasant dentist appointment that morning, until I bit into a large piece of pineapple, and felt my sore gums stinging with the acidic juice.

“Ooww!” I made a face, “I really don’t like my teeth right now.” 

“Why’s that?” Patrick asked, as he dumped dirty dishes into the dishwasher.
“Had a dentist appointment this morning,” I paused to take another bite of pineapple, “And…he said I need to get my wisdom teeth pulled.”

“Ooooh..” Patrick knew all about what happened when I was younger, and he grimaced in sympathy. “Aww that sucks, but hey I got my wisdom teeth pulled two months ago and it wasn’t that bad…”

I glared at him, “You could hardly talk for a week! It was awful!”

Patrick shrugged, smiling slightly as he gave me a wet soapy hug. “That’s why we write notes in code. You’ll be fine!”

I sighed.

“C’mon…no being sad…I forbid it!” Patrick threatened me with the sponge and I shrieked and grabbed the dish towel, smacking him, til we got in a full out dishtowel fight, laughing our heads off.

Sunday, November 18, 2012

What I am trying to do right now.....heh.. >>>>

13 days left in November...and I'm only at 6,500 words.....which mean I need to write around 4,000 words everyday to finish in time.....

Oh deary me....I AM GOING TO DIE.