I apologize for Melinda and I's lack of posting in the last few weeks. Crazy testing and projects are being thrown at us this way and that as the school year comes to an end. Also, Melinda and I happen to use inspiration to fuel our lives. The thing about inspiration that makes it different from say, gasoline or nuclear power, is that it burns extremely bright, but also burns really fast. When we run low on inspiration, we kinda need time to recover. We apologize for running low on inspiration. To make up for some of our dead-blogness, I've decided to dig up some old writing. It's not much, but I hope you enjoy.
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Cast aside as the stray strand of thread of a tattered comfort blanket of friendship, Xandra sat among strangers in the cafeteria in silence. Xandra hadn't always been a loner. In fact, back in middle school, she had a large circle of close peers. She always laughed, and was bubbly. But once she started freshman year of highschool, she took everything more seriously and had a different and new perspective on life due to one incident; an incident that forever changed her.
In an instant, Xandra felt as if she had been ripped to shreds, but was completely blinded by a searingly painful light, and could hear nothing but chaos. In the next, complete numbness clouded her mind. Something was terribly wrong, and a faint, distant and steady tone held resonant in the air. The bleep suddenly crescendoed and several woried tones followed; the voices audible, but indistinct.
I'm dead. She thought.
It had been in the local newspaper, my father told me. Xandra Wilkens Awakes from the Dead. I had lain in the emergancy room for thirty minutes before I had bled out. There was more of me broken than there was of me intact. A nurse had already told my father the same, cheesy line that you hear on television shows, "We did all we could. I'm sorry."
But I began mumbling the name, "Alex," and the doctors were taken agast. My vitals started to stabalize. I was alive.
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