Writing Snapshots

Note: This post could be otherwise entitled "My Tribute to Randomness." :) 

The aforewritten (apparently not a word before I just invented it) note stems from the fact that my writing consists of SO. MANY. GENRES. Currently in my files, I write in the 20th,  21st, and some unknown century, in poetry, prose, and paragraph, about high schoolers and heiresses, about logic and love, and, well, ultimately about Jesus. 

You see, originally my writing consisted of good morals and a happy ending. But after some discussion and thinking, I realized that I wanted my writing to actually mean something. Because I know that if I write to entertain only, I have accomplished very little. But if I write about the gospel, about Jesus, I'm changing the world. 

That said, I'd like to share some little snapshots of my writing here -- just a few sentences out of my different projects to give you an idea of my [{< writing life >}] . :) 

→"No." It came out in a whisper, and we both resorted to silence. Always silence. The feeling came, an urge to just say all of the words that were there inside of me. I marveled that two people could walk side by side and not be able to see the feelings that were inches away from them. It burst from me suddenly, halting us both.{I Stumbled Upon Grace}

→With a sudden shock, it came back to me. My hear suddenly felt cold. I felt as if I was numb, as if everything was just a blank whiteness. I wanted that whiteness. I needed it. I turned my head and looked at the ceiling, and it had little lines and gashes from the years that it had been in place. The lines and gashes glared at me, and I felt broken. My last thought before losing consciousness again was a prayer. "Jesus, I am broken." {I Stumbled Upon Grace}

→"In a perfect world-" the tall man began, but Giselle cut him off.

"This is not a perfect world."

He shook his head, smiling as if amused.

"But we're trying to make it one." Out of the corner of her eye, Giselle saw Neriah's hands pause above his paper. Then he continued to write.

"I think," Giselle began, impatient, "You are a bunch of scientists trying to prove something to the world."

The man smiled a little wider. "Did I hear you correctly? You think? Pardon me, but I believe that's how you feel. And that is why we are doing this experiment, and that is why you are the perfect candidate."

Giselle's eyes snapped. "I'll make you the perfect candidate for a - a brain transplant!"

"You're proving your own qualifications of a -" he paused, referencing a paper in his hand, "a very emotional person. And, another correction, my dear -- you think I'm due for a heart transplant, not a new brain. Good day, Miss Giselle." {Character development exercise for a medical/scientific novel}

→And she knew also that she must hold on to Ernest in her heart. No matter how many cities and stars were between them, no matter how many people they met, no matter who they became, she knew that she must keep him always near. {Flower of my Childhood}