Home of: Prose, Poetry & Contests Prose-n-Poetry

Prose-n-Poetry.com

Email Us [e-mail]
Enter our Poetry Contest and Win a Cash Prize !
Tell your friends! We Pay You to Comment!
Welcome !

Please Sign In
MemberID

password
Save Cookie?  
Get lost password

Join Us

Points Reference

NEW! PnP Contests
Member Contests
Contest Winners

Sailor Moon Home
Games

Members
Moonatics
Gold Writers
Silver Writers
Free Members

Galleries
Sailor Moon

Music
Sailor Moon
Christmas
Read !
Poetry
Stories
Books
Columns
Recipes
MoonNotes
Write !
Poetry
Stories
Books
Recipes
MoonNotes
Workshops
Poetry Workshop
Stories Workshop
Books Workshop
Reference
Poetry Help
Stories Help
F.A.Q

Programs
Sailor Moon Episodes
Banners
Resources

On Line
Richard Reed Jr
Adrianne Wadsworth
Susan Brown
3 Writers

Tera Hopkins
1 Free Members

4 Members
37 Guests

The Journey
by Amber McCabe
copyright 01-17-2002


Age Rating: 10 to 127

 
I stared out the window silently, a disgruntled glare etched on my face. I never wanted to go on this trip anyway. The miles slid past us as I stared into the emptiness.

My eyes slid shut as I pulled my headphones on. The inoffensive pop rock flowed from the tiny speakers into my ears. Cursed to listen to the same 45 songs for the next 15 hours did not seem appealing, but it was better than listening to the mindless hours of Bugs Bunny cartoons my stepbrothers were watching in the far back.

There I sat, doomed to spend my 17th birthday sitting in the middle seat of a Toyoda Sequoia with my family. An hour slid past. Another CD was played. Warily I reopened my eyes. Trees were now passing by our SUV. They swirled with bright lights that flashed in my eyes. A vice pressed into my head, while my stomach churned with vengeance. Reluctantly I admitted I should not have eaten BBQ before I left the house. Never before had I felt this horrible. Going to sunny Destin, Florida was not worth this pain.

Much to my pleasure, we stopped promptly. My father got out to fill up the gas, while I got out to walk around. Figuring I would feel better with some ice-cold water, I went into the gas station and bought a liter of water, and some chips for my stepbrothers, vowing to sleep the rest of the way.

Unfortunately, it was not the meal I had eaten, nor was it any amount of junk food I had consumed. I could not escape the wicked plague of carsickness. Warily I sat, miserable.

What could I do? Nothing. Just sit there, miserable, for the rest of the trip.


Spell Check Rhymer Poetry Analyst


Help Us Stop Plagiarism - Nearly all works at PnP are original. However a few people choose to plagiarize. To check, choose a phrase from the work, then either drag and drop to the search box or copy and paste. click on search and works at Google will be shown which match. Just to be sure, please do this before you recommend or rate the work highly...
Google
If you think this work is plagiarized please


Select a Random Work
from Stories


Comments on this Article/Poem:
Click on the commenter's name to see their Author's Page

01-18-2002 Betty Eskdale    

I sympathize, we used to take long hot trips, legs sticking to the vinyl seats, no such thing as headphones, no rights, no music, and carsick. A static strap attached to the bumper is supposed to do wonders....


Visitor Reads: 542
Total Reads: 689
Comments: 1

Author's Page

Email the Author

Add a Comment




Favorite of:





Send Page to a Friend
Points Reference Privacy
PnP Terms of Service Contact Us
  SEO Software

Visitors
View Stats