Story Cafe

Why do people write? It's usually not a common question asked but you might ask yourself it at least once. Although there really isn't one "real" answer to the question. Maybe, someone writes to be heard, to let their feelings out; to find their voice. While other times people just do it as a hobby, or for entertainment; to inform. Some writings are kept confidential, a secret between the author and their work, while other writings are meant to be projected; to be heard as they were meant to. People have different visuals on writers, such as a loner* that sits alone in their home all day, tapping their life away on their computer; or there's that bold writer that risks knowing that there are people or violently disagree with their writing which can be very dangerous. It does take guts to be a writer; believe it or not. If someone had told me that I would die because of my writing; I would have never believed them. Who knew? Plans lead into a direction you would never have guessed them to go.


In normal societies, people can usually trust their neighbors, police, and are more or less friendly with each other. Unfortunately for myself, I don't live in a normal society. A smile can get you shot, it feels as if everyone is on their own, and you have to hope that no on will break into your house; no matter how many doors you lock. You see- "Hey, Rosy! The time ain't getting any slower!" the distant calling erupting from downstairs.

"Coming, Uncle!" I yelled as I tossed my tan leather journal underneath my smooth pillow; swinging my black bag over my shoulder as I hurried out of my room, down the custom, antique wooden staircase. I rushed through the kitchen as I swept a bag of fruit sitting on the light, average circular table, effortlessly throwing open the delicate white, kitchen door.

"Hey, hey now! I am still in the room!" my uncle stopped me. I smiled as I quickly sped to hug him. "Remember Rosy-" he began worriedly as I pulled the door open.

"I know-I know. Stay out of the way, remember my place...don't worry! I'm fine-I always am." I said with a reassuring smile.

"Yeah, just one of the most dangerous high schools in the country. Sorry, I'll try not to worry." he said bitterly.

"We'll talk about moving to a hipi town later. School. Bye!" I called as I quickly shut the door and sped to the nearest bench around the corner. I quickly looked at my sliver watch; good fifteen minutes. I thought happily as I sat on the serene, dark wooden bench, pulling out another notebook.