Forte presents: Some crappy writings

Hokay. So I suck at writing, as much as I love it. I'm better than your typical person my age...anyhow, here are some writings. And I don't make titles, so don't expect them.

I awoke with immobility. My eyes briskly shifted towards the foot of my bed only to capture the glimpse of a single strand of light hugging my feet. It was erect, and lead towards the sky. In a curious gesture, I stood up and sluggishly dragged my feet to the window. I gazed through the checkered pattern and glanced up. The snow and overcast in the sky were tainted; they were painted orange with the emanating gloss of the sun, slowly rising.

As my stride began to close, the shadows of the towering trees engulfed my own. The swift, but calm wind sprinted across my face and fractions of the sun clouded my vision. It was then, that the tantalizing seclusion of my location made me feel ---

The light from the neighbor's house bursts through his window. It irritates the boy, as he is trying to sleep, to get some rest. God only knows that in the end the boy needs it. Agitated, the boy gets out of bed. The time is 3:02. He lazily trots out of his room and the light's impact is like a truck. His instant reaction is to shut his eyes. Apparently the boy's dad is still up. If not indicated by all of the lights being on, the blaring volume of the television at 3 in the morning definitely gave it away. The boy realizes that all he really needs is to get out. His life, not so much bad, is swarming around him. His mind is filled to the brim with thoughts; he can't bear the feeling. Unfortunately, to get out, he must pass through the living room. And to open the door, he must make sufficient noise to alert his father. He doesn't want to run away, just to get out for a little bit. But his father wouldn't understand that, he knew it, and for this reason, the boy never made it apparent that he was awake. So the boy went back into his room, he opened the window and then he ripped the screening which lined the wall. He climbed through as silently as he could. As he stood outside, the slight presence of a breeze was eerie, to say the least. The ground was covered in snow, and yet it wasn't too cold outside; at the very least it was bearable. The crunch the snow made when he walked across it was a delight to his ears. The night was tantalizing. Something about the night drew him in. It was mysterious; it allowed his imagination to wander. The boy didn't realize it, but he was genuinely enjoying this experience. He didn't realize, but the thoughts were gone. He was amazed. It was poetic outside for the boy. The chill of the wind nipping at his uncovered arms; the snow numbing his feet; the clear view of stars; the ability to breathe; the silence. It all pleased him. He grew overzealous, naive. He walked around his yard for some time before he became adventurous. The boy began waltzing along the outskirts of his yard. He entered the nearby woods. The woods were terrifying to him. His imagination certainly didn't wander to enjoyable places in the woods. After every step the boy felt the need to listen intently and stare at every known direction. The slightest foreign sounds sent horror up his spine. The chills, the fear, the unknown, it all felt amazing to him. As the boy decided to leave, the back of his mind told him that nothing would happen, but he sprinted out of the woods. The boy had never run so fast in his life. It's hard to say whether or not he was actually scared. The boy returned to his house. The time was 3:37. He couldn't believe he'd been out for such a short time. He climbed back through his window and settled into his bed. His blankets gave him the false feeling of safety. He slept.