She stood barefoot in her small cottage. Her eyes were glued open, the music of whipping wind flowed through her ears. An unfinished coffee still sitting on the wooden table, beside a tray full of fruit. Her door was swung open, wind sucking her things into a furious coaster of rage. Her hair whipped, a brown streak drifting around her every which way. She held in her hands a novel titled strangely “When the Wind Gets In”. Her dress wrapped around her knees. She stood inches away from the only unshattered window in her house. She took a last gulping breath, a cracking noise coming from her window. Clasping the book in her hands, she brace as the forceful wind surrounded her. Ending her life in a clash of earthly winds, forcing her to sink into a lifeless position on her hardwood floor.
I am a 11 year old author, this is my second post here. I have a blog with my story on it. I have gone to many RYW classes and enjoy writing. My writings have earned me prizes and awards, and I believe anyone and everyone is a writer within.