wattpad stories

english assignment

Show not Tell

"I was exhausted."

My body felt limp like a fish out of water as I trudged along the path back to my warm, comfortable home. My mind was a cavernous maze of smoke and fog, blocking my way as I wandered, grasping at coherent thoughts that struck me like snakes. They sucked the life out of me, draining me so I wilted like a flower in the dry, barren wasteland of a desert in the peak of summer. Each step felt more dehydrating and debilitating than the last, leaving me cracked and crunching by the time I reached the threshold of the building. My bag landed with a thump in the wrong spot, but I could not focus. I that. I was too concerned with struggling up the mountainous stairs to my bed. My sweet, glorious bed. I ignored my father's calls as I pulled the covers over my head, ready to sleep and never wake up.

"The puppy was a terror."

It scratched, bit, tore, fought, clawed, barked, and made messes all over the house. I always told my mom what it did, but she always blamed it on me. She always said that I was the one who made the mess, trying to cover it up by saying that the dog did it. She always said that I was the one treating the dog badly, and that was why it bit me. She refuses to try to send him to a place to train him. Him. That ugly, mean dog. Always fighting, always causing trouble, and always making me work harder to clean the house than I should.

"My friend was so mad."

She swung at me, her face red from the screams and insults she had been throwing at me. I told her what happened as calmly as I could, knowing she would react that way. Hot tears streamed down her face, I could almost taste the betrayal in the air. I knew this would happen. She yelled and yelled, punched and punched, until her movements slowed, and she did not have it in her to keep going. She had exhausted herself in her rampage. I felt bad, telling her this almost hurt as much as the pain in her eyes, clear as day.

"The substitute teacher was strange."

She walked in late, immediately drawing the attention of the class. Standing at the teacher's desk, she stuttered through the attendance sheet. She kept glancing up at the clock between words like she was itching to get out of the room. She paced back and forth anxiously, jumping at each noise and biting her nails. The woman stood by the door with her stuff in hand, ready to book it as soon as the bell rang, which is what she did. She speed-walked out of the building, on the border of running as she slammed the door open and nearly booked it to her car. Sweat covered her face as she sped away, almost running over a kid in the process.