SHRIMPZILLA name poem :)

It means eccentric yet lovable
It is the number awesome
It is like a sunrise at midnight
It is the endless yelling at Airband
It is the memory of all the random people
Ive had extensive conversations with
Who taught me to be open and outgoing
When they turned out to be great friends
My name is SHRIMPZILLA
It means that the world should learn to laugh alittle.

Part of my Short Story

She knew she couldn’t stay at the park down the street from her house. She had to find somewhere nearby that was safe. She knew her brother, Zack, would understand that she can’t stay here. She desperately looked around for something favorable. There! A pawn shop right across the street, the perfect place to hide until he shows. She jogged across the street to the empty shop, trying not to get noticed by the infected, all in vain. The ones nearby noticed her and slowly began to make their way to where she was, their decomposed bodies shambling in the streets. She got to the pawn shop in time to lock the door, hoping and praying that a little lock could keep the horde at bay. She scrambled around the desks inside to find a gun, pawn shops always had guns. Her search ended when she opened a drawer and found a six barrel revolver with full ammo.  With a glance she saw also a baseball bat, and thought that it would be a great thing just in case. The infected were banging their living corpses against the door and windows, trying tirelessly to enter the little shop. She quickly leaned the bat against the desk and prepared for the coming storm.

Shoe Box Murder Mystery

I was walking in the cemetery, by my brother's grave. I need to find the murderer for this awful act, but i have to be back to truck driving soon. I saw a ceramic frog, beside the gravestone. It reminded me of what happend that day.
"Oh me gawd, I bein' me brother's murderer...er! That be explainin why i's hads dem der amniesers. I 'member what ive done to 'em!" I exclaimed in my thick accent The frog, the ceramic frog, i beat his head in with it.
" He tried to take me foods!"  I reasoned to myself, but then again, i did just realized i killed my brother.
"Iv...uh... Iv got me truck to be drivin' soon" So i left and would never be heard of again. But right as i was about to leave, the police found out the same thing i did. They rushed the cemetery like i was a monster needing to be put down.
"And now i be here, rottin' in one o' dem jail cells" And there i stayed for the rest o' my life.

Rising Action: Katie Davis.

-picks up in the middle of a battle-
      "Taste steel." the man on horseback cried as he plunged his rapier into the throat of a British soldier.
"France will never fall to bathsome curs such as thee!" All around the man, battle raged on as the forces
of the British Empire and the French Monarchy clashed. The sea surged again as the gathering storm created waves nearly as tall as the small houses that dotted the town. An eerie, reddish glow was cast upon the horrific scene by thatched roofs that had been set ablaze.
     "Hold tightly, comrades! The hour of our victory is nearly at hand!" Despite the  British soldier's claim, it was still not clear as to who would win as blood was shed upon the cobbled streets.
     Mary held her skirts in one hand as she tried to support a gaunt soldier with the other. She had no clue as to weither he was friend or foe, but it did not matter to her; he was in need, and she could help.
     She dragged the man into a nearby shed and used the bayonette of his gun to slice through, where she found a deep gash in his side. Mary glanced around, desperate to find somthing to staunch the bleeding.
   The soldier gripped her arm; the force was surprisingly strong, despite his injury. He quickly asked somthing in french, to which she merely shook her head. She tried to quell the erratic beating of her heart. If the British soldiers found her with the enemy...
    Just as the thought crossed her mind, a door opened to reveal her brother in full infantry gear, fury plain on his face...

Writing Practice: Washed Away

"Where am i?"
A man said, washed up on a beach. The last thing he remembered was sailing with his crew. They were set out to kill the gigantic sea creature. The Kraken. His crew didn't even have a chance, before it destroyed his ship. Somehow he had survived, but he now has a more immenent problem. How to get off this island.

Vignette (the one with the picture)

Ive never been flying, much less on a dragon. He thought to himself while trying to sleep in camp. Awake before his time for watch. The bard and the drow were on watch at the moment, dozing off.
He shuffled from his bedroll and walked over to the half-asleep wathmen.
"Aye... ye be wakin' now? tis me tern te watch." He said in hushed tones to wake only the two friends.
 "Thanks, Rugaan" They both mumbled and crawled over to their conviently placed bedrolls . Rugaan chuckled to himself and sat down by the fire. He watched over his friends, with thoughts of flying dragons, untill the morning came.

Writing practice1

The apocolypse spread through the world, caring about none. Not avoiding wealth, class, health, or race. A great equalizer, only intent on death and reanimation of the world. It destroyes everything in its path.

A red baloon flew into the air from the dead hand of a child just taken by virus. Its emaciated frame laying cold on the ground, gouged from many bites and claws from things that could not have a shread of humanity.
Slowly, the small child began to rise from the ground with limbs that shouldn't even move. With ill-intent in its gouged eyes, not completely in their sockets, the small girl hobbled around. Her only thoughts, which should only be of play and fun, were of blood and hunger for flesh.

A gun shot through the silence.
A man of mid-twnty's, handgun cluched in his shaking hands, rushed past the girl. Focused on getting out of this alive. Focused on surviving. He had to run, to save his wife and children. If he didn't save them, then they would surley die, and he would truly have nothing.