thg_thestorieswithin thg_thestorieswithin

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The Girl with the Berries  Write the story WITHIN your ♡! - Backup: @the_mockingjay_within - 1.2K Lovely Storiers♡ - POV "Awakened" - BFFs @heyitscatnip @the_four_note_tune

http://ask.fm/thg_thestorieswithin

I remember when I made this account, I was like "hey when I go to college, will I still run this account?" No... I'm sorry you all the answer is no. 😂 But even though this account isn't active I literally cannot bring myself to delete because of how much The Story Within Mockingjay and Seeds: The Lost Years mean to me! And how much everyone's words meant to me. Maybe I should just go screenshot all the nice comments! 😂 anyway... Mockingjay. That's a thing.
#thehungergames #hungergames #catchingfire #mockingjay #wowirememberhashtaggingstuff #thatwassolongago #thisusedtobemeonthedaily #thisissoweird #ifeelnostlagic

Oh my heck I just came to say hello to @heyitscatnip because I miss her with all my heart.

Chapter 6: (1/2)
I watch the waves crash onto the beach over and over again. The sound of them echoes through my head like the words from the past. I think about the last few months. Long sleepless nights, angry lawyers, tired doctors, bank statements, bills, and counselors. The horrible cacophony that had made up my life for the last year is silenced by the ocean.
I'm sitting on the beach, wrapped up in an old flannel blanket. The moon above me reflects on the ocean and I feel like I can count every single star. The sky always makes me feel afraid. It's so huge, so expansive, so full of loss. Ever since my parents died in the plane crash, I've always felt like the sky was out to get me. Crazy, isn't it?
I look back to the steady black water, lapping over the dark sand. And suddenly, I see the blue stick glowing. The same blue stick that belonged to the man that saved me when I was twelve. I don't know how Uncle Rich thought a waved tossed me onto the beach. I know it was the man I saw yesterday. The blue glow slowly fades. The three pronged stick fades away too. What is that called? I saw one of those in a book about Greek mythology. It's... It's...
"A trident!" I yell. I glance around, realizing I just spoke the word out loud. A trident. That's what it's called.

GUYS. I saw this on tumblr the other night and I couldn't breathe. It's so awful and wonderful and terrible all at once I just 😭 #tfios #thefaultinourstars #hazelgrace #augutuswaters

Chapter 5: (1/4)
After dinner that night, I told Uncle Rich about my parents’ room. He nodded and hugged me, promising me he was sad too. “I miss them every day honey,” he said, kissing the top of my head. “But they would have been so happy to see you here.” Uncle Rich helped me get my little bedroom ready, and that night I fell asleep with the sound of the ocean in my ears. The next morning, I woke up with a renewed spirit of adventure. “Let’s go to the ocean, Uncle Rich!” I begged at breakfast. He flipped another pancake onto my plate. “Maybe this afternoon, Sal,” he said. “I’ve got to make some phone calls this morning. And besides, the currents in the ocean are dangerous early in the morning.” I sighed, this time becoming angrier and angrier with my uncle. Why wouldn’t he take me down to the ocean? I played on the porch all morning. As an only child with only one guardian, I had become good at amusing myself. I played with my dolls and listened to my uncle on the phone. I hated when he never had time for me. I ignored the conversation for the most part, until a word caught my ear. “Jim built it without knowing the future of course,” my uncle’s voice said. Jim. My father. “He built it to bring Laura and Sally to, and the baby.” The baby? “How was he supposed to know the plane was going down?” The plane crash. The words made me sick to my stomach. What was Uncle Rich talking about?

Chapter 4: (1/3)
The warnings of the ocean seemed far and distant as Uncle Rich and I arrived at the beach. His car pulled into the gravel driveway behind the big white house, and I was assailed by my childhood memories. “The air smells so good,” I said, breathing deeply in. The smell of the ocean is one of the most comforting smells. Salty and sandy and completely unlike anything else. It smells like excitement and comfort all at once. I flung open the car door and raced towards the house. Twisting the doorknob, and finding it unlocked, I raced inside the house. The big sprawling kitchen streamed in golden light. It traced the outline of every piece of furniture, and it traced my brown curls. I saw the wrap around staircase, and before I could stop I raced upstairs. Little rooms leading off from the main hallway beckoned me. I saw the little bedroom towards the back that I recognized as my own. It had a back balcony where the ocean could be seen. But the room I was eager to enter was my parent’s room, the front room. I reached the door, and twisted the knob open. The door swung open, and I caught my breath in the doorway.

Chapter 3: (1/2)
When I was twelve years old, Uncle Rich brought me back to Montauk for the first time in seven years. I had been so excited to see the beach that Uncle Rich made me promise I wouldn’t go near the ocean until he was with me. “That undertow can grab a grown man and rip ‘is feet right out from under ‘em,” Uncle Rich had said on the way to the beach. He looked at me seriously. His dark eyes looked so much like my father’s. “Promise me Sal,” he said. “Promise me you won’t go near the water without me.” I nodded. Uncle Rich was always so worried. Ever since my parents died and he adopted me, he was always so cautious. I remembered spending every Christmas with him when my parents were alive. He was always so fun-loving. He lived in east Tennessee. Everything about him was so different than my family. His words were like sweet syrup, long and thick, not at all like the clipped speech of everyone where I lived in New York. His farm, where my dad and he had grown up, was full of horses, chickens, and green grass. Even at Christmas under a blanket of snow, I daydreamed about summertime in the fields. As my only close relative, he adopted me when my parents died. I grew up feeling like he was more of a father than an uncle. He moved to New York when my parents died. We bought a house out in the suburbs, because the social workers said it’d be better for me to stay in the school I had started in. Even young kids need stability they explained. Stability. The thought of it now makes me cringe. I never had anything stable. I loved Uncle Rich, but he was constantly traveling with his job. The only time I really spent with him was in the summer. Each summer we’d go back to his farm in Tennessee, and I’d get the summer fields I had dreamed of as a small girl.

Chapter 2: (1/4)
I wake up with the sunlight streaming into my eyes. Rubbing my eyes, I realize I fell asleep in one of the deck chairs on the back balcony. Yawning, I stand up. I stretch, stiff from the hard wooden chair. I walk back into my bedroom and shut the sliding balcony door. My bed is still messy from the bad dream of the night before. I quickly make it, and then walk barefooted to the hall bathroom. I look in the mirror, and almost laugh at my reflection. My wavy dark brown hair is knotted and clumped around my face. My blue eyes have dark circles underneath them, and my skin is dry from falling asleep outside. I splash cool water on my face before I hop into the shower. As I shower, I think about what I've done. I've driven all the way to Montauk Beach with only a thousand dollars to my name. I don't have a high school degree, and I am completely and utterly alone. I hang my head, and bite my lip, as the water runs down around my face. I push the shower off, and wrap up in a towel. Lavender scented, of course. I step out of the shower and onto a shower mat in the bathroom. As I dry off, I think about the past year. But as soon as the thoughts enter my head, I turn them off. I refuse to live in the past. The past only traps me, like the seaweed in my dream. In my room, I grab a soft cotton sundress. It's old and faded, but I love it. It belonged to my mother. She wore it every time my family came to this beach house. I slip it over my head and the soft purple fabric dances around me. Running my fingers through my wet hair, I shake it out to get rid of the clinging water droplets. I walk downstairs, hearing the echoing sound of my footsteps on each step. The house is so silent it hurts.

Chapter 1: (1/2)
I grab the sheets out of the closet in the bedroom. Taking a deep breath I smile. The scent of clear ocean air and lavender fills my senses. How did the sheets still smell so fresh after so many months of the house being locked?
I shake the sheets out over the small double bed in the upstairs room. Smoothing the corners and tucking them in, I think of climbing in bed for the night. As I slipped off my cut off jeans and tank top, and slip into a large t-shirt I pulled from my duffel, I flop onto the bed. The soft mattress gives way to my lithe frame, cushioning me. The scent of the ocean and lavender once more surrounds me, and pang runs through my chest. The smell transports me back to the bedroom of my parents' home. Somehow, my mother always smelled like lavender, and the sheets of my little bed were the same. Fresh and clean, always inviting to me after a long day of play.
I roll onto my stomach and sigh. Reaching out for the lamb next to my bed, I flick the little seashell button, and the light leaves the room. Pitch black. Montauk Beach isn't a tourist beach. It's quiet. It's isolated. It's lonely. It's me. The only sound I hear are the lapping waves on the sand. The monotonous and familiar roar of the ocean quickly lulls me into a deep sleep.
As I sleep, I dream. I dream I am in the ocean, swimming and savoring the feel of the salty water on my skin. The smell of salt and sand fills my nose as I dive deep into the dark blue water. Chills cascade down my body as the water becomes colder below the sunny surface. I feel something catch my foot, and I look down. Seaweed has ensnared my ankle. I tug at it, trying to break free, but the slimy plant grows and wraps around my whole body. I can't breathe. I scream, but my lungs only fill with water. Choking, I try to twist free of the plant. But now it has arms, and it is wrapping me completely up. My brain feels like it's going to burst, and my eyes sting with salt. I feel a rush of pain, and I scream once more, before everything fades to black.

"Learning to Swim"
My new POV! I've always wanted to write this story. It'll be something I work on this summer. Hope you enjoy it! :) •
Prologue: (1/2)
My blue 1988 Ford Taurus comes to a squeaky and jerky halt, as I pull up next to the house. It's a tall house, all white with black shudders. The porch looks old and unused, and reflects on the rest of the house in the same way. I sigh deeply and take the key out of the ignition. Heaving the heavy metal door open, I unbuckle my seatbelt and exit the car. As soon as the sea breeze hits me, I feel my body change. My heart rate steadies, my eyes close, and I take a deep breath, filling my lungs and refusing to release. The sun prickles my skin in warmth and in spite of myself, I smile. I am home. I stand for a moment, soaking in the feeling of the beach, and then I turn back to my car to get my stuff out the car. My brown leather knapsack on the front seat, two brown boxes on the backseat, and a beat up yellow duffel on the floor boards. It's everything I own. I sling the knapsack over my shoulder and scoop up the two boxes from the back. I balance them precariously on top off each other and start for the house. I find the beach house key on my key ring and insert it into the lock with difficulty. The door swings open on creaky hinges. I look over the boxes and see the room. It's bright from the evening sunlight, but it's dusty. White cloths cover all the furniture. I set the boxes and my knapsack down to go retrieve my duffel before exploring the house further. I sprint to the car, grab the duffel and lock the car door. I toss the bag onto the ground, and it hits the top box. The box topples over spilling the contents. I sigh, biting my tongue, resisting the urge to swear. I bend down and scoop up some of the clothes that spilled out, and I see a picture frame. The glass cracked when the picture fell on the hardwood floor, but the frame is still intact. I fall to my knees as I look at the picture. A picture I've looked at hundreds of times.

But y'all, Parks and Recreation is my new favorite show. 😂 it's hilarious! {#editswithin }

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