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Post by >> may tyler on Apr 10, 2006 3:33:48 GMT -5
Spring turns into summer which turns into fall which brings winter. That had been her first grade homework, she had had to find the order of the seasons and present it to the class. If only she could go back to first grade. Instead, May Tyler found herself sitting under an old oak tree at a university, chewing her pen (once again) and re-reading her essay. Seasons, she could do; Creative Writing was something else altogether.
Pausing for a moment, May glanced around the courtyard to see what everyone else was up to. There were quite a few others like her, sharing the shade of old trees around the courtyard and catching up on homework. Some were scurrying back to their dorms, preferring Macs to pen and paper. She was one of the fore.
Scowling now, the girl untied her hair in order to lean her head against the tree trunk. It hung lightly about her shoulders and she began to chew her pen again, more harshly this time, glancing at the blank, lined page before her..
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Post by Dylan Leahway on Apr 10, 2006 9:29:04 GMT -5
the girl who had courage earlier came up to may by the tree. " Chewing on your pen againa bout those eessays i see." she said with a laugh and friendly smile. "I'm Dylan, im in the Oak dorm" she said with a friendly tone. "i just think your thinking to hard and you just need to go with the flow with essays"
she said taking a seat no to far from her and taking out her sketch pad. She flipped to a blank page and got out a ebony pencil and started to doodle. her hand darted across the paper with percision as her eyes eemed to dance across the paper. She stopped and looked out over the courtyard and sighed.
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Post by >> may tyler on Apr 11, 2006 4:06:03 GMT -5
May glanced up from her essay, startled, at the girl who just walked over. The words from her mouth were blunt, but they made sense anyway. Couldn't blame May for getting a tad defensive, and a bit skeptical. The first thought that flew into her mind was to say "Huh?" But she refrained from doing so. Being mean and nasty wasn't something she did to strangers - it was a friend thing only.
Uhh.. Hi, I'm May
She said quickly, thinking it was the safest way to go. The girl's bit of information was.. Different from what her dad and teachers had told her ("You have to think hard and refrain from all distractions!") But it seemed to work well for Dylan - or else she wouldn't be here.
Seeing that the girl had pulled out a sketch pad, May stood and brushed the grass off of her sky blue jeans, walking over to have a look. Art had always interested her, and she wanted to see what this girl was like. Interests often described a person better than words could, or even talking to them.
Do you mind?
She asked again, sitting down on the grass once more, and peering over Dylan's shoulder.
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Post by Dylan Leahway on Apr 13, 2006 14:58:31 GMT -5
Her grren eyes peered up through her auburn hair.
"no, i kinds like people watch"
she said continuing to sketch the landscap she as across from.
"does art interest you May?"
she sas still sketching her eyes peering at the landscrap she was sketching. her stroke were confident and eligant.
her hand move about with skill and precision as she tried to read May.
Dylan's whole life she had a gift to read people. mainly becuase she was tossed fromh ome to home. and she elarned different way to tell about people. that whay she awlays sketched and painted to get away from the horrible world around her to escap inh er work. that why no one find the true menaing in her works.
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Post by >> may tyler on Apr 14, 2006 19:26:33 GMT -5
Something about the girl's tone spooked May a bit. Maybe it was the fact that she could act like she was friends with everybody, a talent not often occuring in people these days. The girl made herself comfotable and watched the elegant strokes, the beautiful stains on the paper, starting to come together.
Not really.. I'm not an artist, I'm a journalist.. Or at least, an aspiring one..
She replied hesitantly, thinking quietly that writing was a form of art.. Just not journalism.
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Post by Dylan Leahway on Apr 15, 2006 9:55:56 GMT -5
"well writing is a form of art isn't it. i mean only some people have the gift to make words come together much like a colors of paitn come together for a painter."
She finished her drawing and looked up at May.
"thats cool youw ant to be a journalist i want to be a illustrator or art director for film."
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