Thursday, June 16, 2016

Adventure on Shank St.

Paige Doskas
(age 15)

I hear a knocking at the front door of my apartment. Glancing over at the clock, I realise the time- 12:36Who would be visiting at this time of night.  I slumped out of my old rocking chair and made my way over to the door.  At first glance, all seemed normal. Everything encompassing the house seems to be quite average. Shanks St. usually was quite boring and average, but tonight the boring and average seemed to be at an all time high.

The only other living thing in sight was Mr. and Mrs. Percible's pit-bull. Now one would think that being as this dog is a said "pit-bull" that it would be big and bruting--which was the case for the vast majority of them, but Sparkle had been fed a few too many milk bones. One could mistake her for a beached whale if one was to glance too quickly at her. Certainly she did not walk all the way to cross the street, knock, and then quickly run back as if playing a game of Ding- Dong- Ditch. She was far too large for even a brisk walk--let alone running, and slightly in the obvious, dogs can't knock on doors.

Turning around to go back indoors, to my previously scheduled nd rudely interrupted sleep, I tripped over a welcome mat. Curiously, I examined it. I never bought a welcome mat. One should never do something so tacky. Lifting up the mat, I uncovered a small letter in the lefthand corner of where it sat. 

The letter is sealed with what looked to be a tiger stamp On the front, written in beautifully perfect cursive writing is written--"To: Addison Melbourne, 234 Shanks St."  I do not know anyone with such time on their hands to write this. I opened it very carefully, not to damage the masterpiece--that is the envelope made by the mysterious sender

Glitter--that was what was in the envelope. Why would someone put so much work into an envelope that was practically empty? The next thing I know,I was standing in front of a tall,black office building. The building seemed normal enough, but something about it gave me an uneasy feeling. Shrugging off the feeling of dread as I entered the doors. I examined the room. There is no receptionist--simply two doors. One is green, the other orange. What an odd place. How did I get here, and why?

(Assignment for Lesson # 13 - Imagination)

If you are between the ages of 13 -18,
(or know someone who likes to write stories)
I would like to post your story here.
Send me an email. I'd love to read your story!

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