They’re similar to an iceberg, but different. Pretty, yes, but unlike icebergs, there’s nothing under the beauty....

I saw him…the most vile human being on this earth. Oh, how I hate him, I thought to myself. His sheen black hair always looks plastered to his head. I can’t really even say those are spikes on the top of his head…more like how Alfalfa looks off the Little Rascals movie. I actually liked the little boy Alfalfa. Lorenzo, though, was a slob. His stained white T-shirt hung off his skeletal frame, and ...

Long brown hair she loves,

But really looks like dead grass.

Bright blue eyes that she think make her unique,

But really couldn’t be more common.

I hate her.

With all that’s in me.

It’s exhausting sometimes.

When she looks, no glares at me

She looks like a horse chocking.

The boys’ knees go weak when they see her,

Herding around her like bunnies do round Snow White.

But while she’s kind...

There it is again. That unnatural snort-chuckle sound.

"Oh" Elly says between breaths, "Oh, Hope, you're just too funny---"

She slams her hand on the quartz counter, a bit of her wine (which perfectly matches the color of her face) splashing out of her glass as she stabilizes her laugh.

She sounds like a suffocating monkey.

Her eyes glance down at the maroon spill on the floor and gasps.

"Oh, I a...

There she is again, performing her little play as though the world exists solely for her stage. That grin of hers cuts across her face, wide and polished, like something practiced in the mirror until it gleamed with false charm, carried by those plump lips. To anyone else, it might be dazzling. To me, it’s nothing but a predator’s lure, sweetened poison dressed as warmth.

Her hair tumbles with th...

Can you believe

How she cleaves

To her youth

Don’t need to be a sleuth

To understand

And reprimand

The fact that she’s

Always trying to outdo me

With the Botox

And golden dyed locks

The trashy fit

See through knit

But we see right through

Trying to remember her youth

But the hard truth

Is that not matter what we both lose...

Her eyes are the same colour as smog. A gross green-grey colour that you’d also associate with sickness. I never really pay attention to her hair, but I think it’s up most of the time since her eyes are so easy to see. But that’s mostly because she stares. A lot. She’ll stare at whoever she’s talking to, and even when she’s not, she seems to only function when she holds eye contact with someone. H...

I'm attracted to her against my will. I wonder if it bothers me more that I'm an alien in a strange alternate dimension, or bisexual and in love with this girl who treats me like I'm an idiot.

Lexy's big, round eyes glitter black with envy as she cooly assesses my best friend.

"Nice dress."

She doesn't mean it. I can see it in the way that her lips, with their glittering gel-like gloss, twitc...

I take a deep breath as the elevator doors open with a ping welcoming me into the 9th circle of hell. Today will be the day I am unaffected by Brandy- and this thought is immediately squelched when I hear the familiar witches cackle that makes the hairs on my arm stand up. I whip my head back and forth, certain the hellhounds have been released and set upon me by her vicious call. I almost wish th...

Squinting, Cricket dragged her cart of scrap past the barbed wire fence. Burn pit smoke always made her eyes sting. Havers in the watchtower gave her a friendly nod. Waving her rifle, the tern made the sign of the day. Cricket headed towards the fire. Her grandmother would be waiting.

“Mind the embers, baby girl,” Gran said.

“I’m smart enough to not get toasted.”

Cricket knew Gran was glad she ...