make your mark

i traced my fingers over the painted words, inhaling their musty scent. i am surrounded with the hopes and dreams of those who came before me. now, it’s time to make my mark.

i dip my hand into the thick teal paint, allowing it to coat my fingers, painting a single smear upon the wall. it glows among the dim monotony of the black and white letters in my room.

i think over the life-shaking words i am about to write, turning them over in my mind until i’m ready.

slowly, s l o w l y, i paint my legendary declaration.

will turner is baeeeeeeeeee!

just a little something for y’all. 😊😉

love from,


Dry Throat

Hey hey hey!!!! Its meeeeee! I can’t write for too long today, because I need to eat dinner soon and do some homework. But anyways…

Today, I’m going to be telling a short story. This short story is not part of the other short story series which will be “launched” next week. (By the way, my short stories series names and details and will be coming out next week! That’s a promise!) Kindly do not get confused.

So, without further ado, I present to you…

Dry Throat

Silence floated through the atmosphere.

What was happening? I wondered. One minute I was running through the forest playing catch with my best friend hot on my heels, the next minute, silence filled the air so thick, I couldn’t even hear my own panting. It was deafening.

Hey! I wanted to yell. Where’s everyone?! Hello?!

I wanted to say these words so bad, I began to tear. Where were my friends? There were at least ten of them, in total. Now not a single one of them appeared.

Maybe I should go back, I thought. Maybe they will be waiting there. Maybe I have won. Maybe they have started another game. 

I wiped my tears and quickly retraced my steps. The silence followed me like a dark and sober cloud.

I re-entered the clearing which my friends and I had started playing games from. But no one was in sight.

They’ll come back, I thought confidently, and sat down to wait.

What if they won’t? another voice in me asked.

They’ve got to, I thought. I mean, We’re good friends and we stand by each other.

I can tell they’ve deserted you. The voice started sounding spooky. The word deserted pierced me.

I pushed the voice away and continued staring at the grass.

Twenty minutes later, the deafening silence had left and normal silence was back. Birds sang, bees buzzed and trees swayed in the wind. My friends had not returned.

I stood up and looked around. “OI!” I hollered as loud as I could. “I’m here, you know! You guys can come out now!!!!”

No answer. I sat back down and began to sing.

An hour later, I started feeling woozy. I began to sway lightly.

Help! I cried silently.

The lack of water (I hadn’t drunk for two hours and the heat was penetrating through my skull) and the singing had caused this.

As I began to fall to the ground, I heard voices. The voices of tweens and teens. They were my friends.

I stood up like a drunkard. At last! I wanted to cry out, but fainted before I could do so.


As I hit the ground, I sat blot upright in bed, sweating like crazy. I was at home.

Silly me. It was just a dream.

But as I reached for my water bottle on my side table, I realised I had a dry and thirsty throat.



Did you guys enjoy that? Give this a like if you did, and comment your thoughts! (Any grammatical mistakes up there?)

God Bless You!

~ PenelopeCrumb 😀


Hi there! (x 1000) XD

Time for some seriousness. *rubs hands together nervously*

First of all, I would like to apologise for not posting yesterday. (I know I know. I did that last week) But it was because I went for a hike on the FRIM Canopy Walk with my family and friends. We arrived home at around 4:30 pm and I was bone tired. (yup, that’s right. I didn’t even have energy to blog) I’ll blog about the trip on my other blog soon (need to catch up on some stuff first :P)

Secondly, I would like to apologise again! Because my short story series will not be released this week. I’ll seriously try to do it in the next two weeks. If I don’t please please please remind me!!!

Ok, that’s all. I hope you can forgive me!

God Bless You!

~ PenelopeCrumb 😀

All Alone in This World

Chapter 6

         Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. Time dragged by and it was impossible to sleep with the pain of remembering that I, after all, had nobody, nobody at all. But at least I had Lilias by my side. Our friendship flourished and we became intimate friends. One day, we were brought the news that we were adopted. Both of us, together.

       “A young single man,” Mrs. Weston told us. “Very distinguished, you’ll have a good life, both of you. Now hurry up and get on some fine clothing!”

        She tossed us two silky dresses, one lavender and one periwinkle. After we were all dressed up, we were escorted downstairs to a fancy limousine. We were informed that our new father, Mr. Robertstad, would not be in for a little while, but would soon be here so we could go to our new home. Our chauffeur opened the door for us, and we excitedly took our seats. Several minutes passed when we heard a yell. I turned around in a flash, and the chauffeur jumped. Then I saw a horrible gun pointing out of a bush, it aimed, a gunshot snapped in the air and the next thing I knew, Lilias was bleeding in the seat beside me.

      “No,” I whispered. “No, no, no, NO! It’s not true, it can’t be. Please, please no.”

      The chauffeur didn’t say anything, it was not his place. Just then, a young man in a tuxedo and looking very wealthy stepped out of the orphanage and exclaimed,

       “Hello girls! I’m your-” he stopped abruptly when he saw the bleeding body beside me.

      “E-excuse me,” he faltered. “I-I, no! Is-is she alive?’

     He looked so heart-broken that I felt sorry for him. But what did he know about being heartbroken? I had no one, he at least had his servants. Not a member of my family was left, and now none of my friends. Lilias had been one my supporter when I had been depressed at the orphanage, and now she too was gone. I laid my head in my arms but I couldn’t cry. The lump in my throat was too large for that. Lilias had been my sister, but nobody part of my family could ever live. I guess that was true with Lilias too. I guess.

“all you need is love”

more sad stuff. sorry. to whoever wrote this song, credit for the lyrics goes to you.

“all you need is love.”

a girl, thin with two dark braids, drifts along the sidewalk, singing softly to herself.

“all you need is love.”

she rubs her arms, shivering as she walks into the wind.

“all you need is love,”

a car rounds the corner, red with rust. the driver, intoxicated. the passengers, out cold.


the car swerves onto the sidewalk, the driver too drunk to see straight. she doesn’t notice, too focused on the lilting words spilling forth from her.

“all you need is lo-”

her life ends at the same time as her song. 

have a nice day! i feel you still can… 

love from,


b r o k e n memories

ok, so i know i already posted today, but i’m kind of on a roll, so here’s some more sad stuff to make you and me both cry. 😥

b r o k e n memories

don’t let go

i’m waiting for you

hold me tight

i’m not leaving you

forgive me

no, no, no.

i can’t stay any longer

it’s not time yet


i’m not ready

all my love to

don’t break my

y o u

h e a r t

Trevor goes to Jasmine’s funeral, placing a handful of her namesake on her grave.

beautiful blossoms for a beautiful girl, inside and o u t.

He cradles the pictures he took, putting them on the walls and taking them down.

too p a i n f u l to look.

The notes she wrote him are buried deep in a box in the corner of his bedroom.

the flowery scent of her still l i n g e r s.

Tears drip from the tip of his nose onto her yearbook picture.

all these broken memories



b r e a k me

i’m sorry for your poor feels! trevor ain’t the only one with a broken heart after all this sad stuff i keep posting. 


love from,



yay, more depressing stuff. joy oh joy. not. guys, your comments are really nice, and i’m sorry i can’t write something less sad for y’all. i’m just not feeling the happy writing vibes, ya know? anyways, let’s get on to our weird poem story thing.

*warning: this story contains character eating disorders, suicidal thoughts, depression, self harm (kind of?), and suicide. if you are under thirteen, do not read this poem without parental permission, unless you’re absolutely SURE you can handle it.*


(if i was prettier, would he like me?)

mai admires him from across the room. her eyes water, because she know he’ll never be hers.

(if i was thinner, would he look my way?)

she goes to take a bite of ice cream, then hesitates and replaces her spoon.

(if i was smarter, would my parents love me?)

she’s on perpetual diets. she waits for someone to notice, to tell her to stop, but no one does.

(does anyone love me?)

her mother snaps at her to finish her lasagna. mai nods, scraping her plate into the trash can when no one is looking.

(has anyone ever loved me?)

mai collapses one day during gym; she’s too thin to run a fast as they’re making her.

(will i ever be loved?)

the school nurse takes one look at her and calls the doctor.


they put a tube in her stomach, forcing her to eat, but she doesn’t want to eat, she’s too fat, she doesn’t deserve to eat.


her parents don’t even feel sorry for mai-instead, they’re mad at her. It’s her fault, she should’ve just eaten.


she believes them.

(i just want answers.)

mai rips the tube out. it hurts, but she deserves this pain and suffering. she deserves to die.

(can you help me?)

her breaths rattle in her chest. mai rubs her hands together for warmth, but there is no warmth left.

(no one can.)

“i just want someone to care about me.”

(it’s too late.)

//oh poor girl who just wanted to be loved//

//you’re in a better place now//

//up above//

so that’s that. have a nice day!

love from,


p.s. i’m finally getting the hang of this whole graphics thing! yay! 


hello, friends! today i have another sad, depressing poem for y’all, but at least it’s not about me this time. it also has anaphora. it’s about two characters, sonya and ethan, and the choices the make. there’s a story on each side of the poem, and a different choice. 

*warning: this story contains character suicide, suicidal thoughts, depression, self harm, and child abuse. if you are under thirteen, do not read this poem without parental permission.* 



sonya stumbles in the dark. she is night. she is pain.

ethan hits his sister, who hits back. he is light. he is pain.

sonya rubs her bruises and cries. she is night. she is pain.

ethan rolls over in bed and dreams of endless sleep. he is light. he is pain.

sonya curls up in a ball. she is night. she is pain.

ethan wonders why he is alive. he is light. he is pain.

sonya hides from him and his punching fists. she is night. she is pain.

ethan finds the pills and prepares to end it all. he is light. he is pain.

sonya thinks that life is not worth living. she is night. she is pain.

ethan imagines his sister crying at his funeral. he is light. he is pain.

sonya presses the gun against her forehead. she is night. she is pain.

ethan thinks of a life of happiness, a life he could still have. he is light. he is pain.

sonya slips through the cracks. she was night. she was pain.

ethan disposes of the pills. he is light. he is alive.

sonya’s baby brother cries for a sister who will never return. she was night. she was pain.

he walks his little sister to school and kisses her goodbye. he is light. he is alive.

he arrives home drunk, laughing until they tell him. she was night. she was pain.

he wears long sleeves to hide the cuts. he is light. he is alive.

the school learns of her loss and shake their heads sadly. she was night. she was pain.

he learns of the death of a girl he’s known since birth. he is light. he is alive.

she had so much more to give. she was night. she was pain.

he leaves flowers and tears upon sonya’s grave. he is light. he is alive.

so much more life left to live. she was night. she was pain.

he prays it will be many years until he joins her. he is light. he is alive.

she lost it all. she was night. she was pain.

ethan returns home and bakes cookies with his family. he is light. he is alive.

“goodbye.” she was night. she was p a i n.

“i love you.” he is light. he is a l i v e.

thanks for reading! and remember, comments encourage & inspire me.

love from, 


p.s. yay, me! i managed a cute graphic. for once. 


hello! today i’m going to share a poem that uses symbolism and anaphora. it’s about me, and it’s kind of depressing, soooooooo… sorry. but first, i’ll tell you what anaphora is.

anaphora: the repetition of a word or phrase, usually at the beginning of a stanza in a poem or song.

anyway, here’s my poem. it doesn’t really have a title, so i call it a.n.a.p.h.o.r.a.


{i am an apple-colorful, quick to bruise, and quick to go bad}

{i am a penguin-clumsy, fun-loving, a tad naive, and slightly adorable}

{i am a calendar, with a changing demeanor and changing emotions each day}

{i am a cloud-above the others, sometimes with company, sometimes stranded}

{i am an old marker, used accidentally, unwanted, eventually thrown out}

{i am a set of new gel pens, glittery, bright, and frank with the world}

{i am a dandelion, towering above grass, first beautiful, then blown away}

{i am a new binder-shiny and special and empty inside}

{i am a down comforter, full of fluff}

{i am america, wanting change and fearing it at the same time}

anyhoo… have a nice day! comments and constructive criticism are welcome and wanted. also, does anyone have any good book recommendations? i need something to read.

i love y’all!

love from,


Sorry for not posting for…a long time 🙂 .I wrote this little (heh) bit for a contest and am sharing it on all my blogs, enjoy!