Perfection

        Kat was... Kat. That's about all you can say to describe her, besides perfect. Her face was... Wow. Not a single freckle or scar, no blemish or imperfection in existence. And her hair? Just the same. Perfectly wavy. Sort of curly, but not too curly. Just perfect. And in the morning when she woke up, it was the exact same. It still flowed perfectly over her flawless shoulders. Her eyes were like the aforementioned Joshua Lorne's, blue-white. A chilling, icy color, that could cut right through a person like daggers whenever she was angered and decided to give you the death stare. This part always made me the most jealous: her weight. Or rather lack thereof. She had a perfect hourglass figure without even trying. And it isn't like I'm fat, I just don't have that kind of beautiful shape and figure. She was too pretty. Everyone's eyes seemed to turn to a painful, green, envious color whenever she walked into the room. That is, until February 9th, 2005.

        Kat had this best friend named Britney. Britney Baudelaire. Brit and Kat had gone to a party and were driving home. Kat was driving to Brit's house, and they had finally reached it. The silver and blue Camry came to a slow, careful halt in Brit's driveway, facing the gorgeous two-story home.

        "Thanks for driving me home, Kat."

        "Oh, it's no problem, really. I just wish you could've come to my house!"

        "I know! Man, it's late though... Almost one o' clock."

        "One?! Are you serious?!"

        "Yep."

        "Ugh! That's my curfew!"

        "Better get going! We both know how your dad is about curfew..."

        "Yeah. Well, bye. Love you!"

        "Love you too!"

        Kat pulled out of the driveway, and began to drive. She reached the first intersection after about fifteen seconds. And then a drunken driver came speeding around the corner, and hit her dead on. And, of course, it hit her. Not the car, but Kat.

        Britney let out a shriek and her dad came running out. He's a body builder, so he's extremely strong. He ripped the door off the Camry and pulled Kat out. He rushed her to the hospital five minutes down the road. Everyone expected her death. That's why we were so shocked when it didn't come. Instead, she woke up one morning and said my name, but she had a sort of accent. And then it hit me: she had been brain damaged. As soon as I realized it, I pointed it out to my mother, and she pointed it out to the doctors. They ran tests, but I knew that I was correct before the results were even remotely close to coming back.

Reviews

[Rae]

Hahah, thanks, you are too! You need to write more and find your strategy to make sure you pull emotion out of people. If you can come close to making people cry when they read your writing, you know you've got a great strategy. Last year, my English teacher always told us stories and one of them was REALLY emotional. He had told us a story before and we were all tearing up, only to have him tell us it was all made up! Then when he told us the other story a few weeks later, we all thought for sure he was lying to us yet again. But then he started to tear up, so that really took to heart and we all kind of got a little weak. All the boys were listening intently, most of the girls were crying, but a few friends and I forced ourselves not to get past tears in our eyes. Then he finished the story, looked around the room, put his head down, and began to CHUCKLE. We all began to understand that it was TOTALLY FICTION, once again! But the reason we always thought he was telling a true story is because he always showed emotion. Even if it was false, it was emotion. Emotion is key. That's how I write; from the heart. He taught me that, and I will never forget it.(:

[etxcp]

That's so sad. I almost cried. You are amazing!