Please welcome sixteen-year-old Cindi as Random’s author today and BE HER FAN.
Not only does Cindi have acting and photography talent, Cindi has a writing voice that speaks volumes. Check out her intro to THE MIRACLE GIVER and tell her what you like and if you ‘d like to read more.
But first, here’s a little blurb from Cindi:
When I write I usually see the scene in my head and let the movie play through alternative situations before I run to the computer and start typing.
For the story below I like to listen to an Irish melody called, “A Dream That Only I Can Know.” This song really connects with me while writing this story.
I don’t always have a set writing routine. Sometimes when I hear a song it makes me think of my story so I write. Sometimes I’m in the middle of class and have to stop and jot down an idea. Sometimes I write for five minutes and other times for three hours.
My other interests include acting, photography, running, and just being with people!
In college I plan to study sociology and psychology, then move on to criminal justice and criminology in hopes of some day becoming the liason for the BAU (Behavioral Analysis Unit) and the FBI.
I talk all the time, but inside I’m shy and quiet.
My favorite color is purple and my favorite word in “charming” because it’s old fashioned and no one really uses it.
I’ve always had a passion for acting because it gives me a chance to live another life for a little while. That’s what motivates me to write. I like knowing I can create a life and maybe get the chance for someone to recreate that life on the stage.
My favorite movies are the Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman series because I love the 1800’s which is when Dr. Quinn took place.
I’m probably not your typical writer–I HATE to read and I can’t spell to save my life, but that doesn’t stop my imagination from running wild!
I would like any comments on my first scene below. Please understand that this is a rough draft. Thank you!
THE MIRACLE GIVER
When all you need is one more second chance.
Chapter one: Kate
“Ah America! The bastion of free speech until someone dare express an unfavorable opinion.” –Fanny Kemble.
This opinion was usually mine. So to me, America wasn’t really free. I was a little out-spoken, maybe a tad opinionated. But was that any reason to want to cut my life so short? I didn’t think so, but apparently my offenders did. Maybe that’s why they hurt me. Perhaps that’s why I am lying here surviving simply on life support. But this all had to have happened for a good reason… right? Maybe this happened so that I could share my story with you and you could save the lives of those who will come after me. My name is Katherine Elaine McBride and this is my story:
Up until the day I took my final breath I was a vibrant, active ten year old. I was a far cry from a nerd… I just knew a lot of information that not all people would find as captivating as I did. I went to a great elementary school, but I stood out like a fly in milk. You see, I was always trying to do my best, and I was usually found standing up for what was right, just like my mom taught me. I guess that’s what made me noticeable. Sometimes I wished I could have just blended in. Growing up I had always wanted to be famous, but somehow being known as the girl who walked out in front of a car wasn’t exactly in my plans. By the way, I didn’t walk out in front of any car. I was pushed! Nobody is going to know that unless I tell you my story and you pass it on. So please take note so you can save my dignity, reputation, and memory!
I was dropped on my parent’s doorstep in a basket, as a baby, by a stork. Seriously, my real mother’s last name was Stork and thank the good Lord she dumped me there because I would not have wanted to live in today’s society with that last name. Therefore, I was adopted by Abbigale and Jack McBride. Luckily, I am not their only child so my untimely demise won’t leave them completely lonely. Fact is, they have three boys by birth, so my ding-dong-ditch-me arrival was like God’s way of saying He was sorry. I’d like to think He was apologizing for leaving them with three disgusting boys who would grow up to be smelly dirty freaks just begging for trouble. (Well, that’s my version.)
These fine young dweebs go by the names of Elijah the oldest, Michael the middle, and Jackson Junior, or JJ, the youngest. Jackson is my age, older by only three months. Michael, on the other hand, is twelve and Elijah is fourteen. They don’t like to play as much as JJ and I did–we always went on adventures. I hope he can find a new friend to do that with now.
You may be wondering how I know I’m going to die. It isn’t that I have given up fighting, it’s just this feeling you get before it happens. That’s why I am telling you all of this, so you can share my story because I won’t be able to. But that’s enough about all that death talk; let’s move on to something happier.
How about the time I lost my very first big tooth, which is what I used to call my front teeth. I was five or six, I can’t recall exactly, but mom and dad were gone on an anniversary outing. I was stuck at home with those three miseries I call brothers. (Don’t get me wrong, I do love them, but they aren’t very thrilling.) The neighbors came to check on us periodically, so we were never truly alone. Neither my brothers nor I were the brightest Crayolas in the crayon box, but my tooth was extremely loose and we needed a speedy solution. So Elijah thought it would be a brilliant idea to tie string to my tooth and the other end to a toaster, and throw it over the ledge of the stairs.
Let’s just say the toaster wasn’t the only thing that flew over the edge, but luckily all I gained from this miniature sky dive was a broken arm and a ride to the ER. However, I did lose some sanity, pride, and one big tooth! I took a break from my long monologue to laugh a little.
I also remember the day that Michael made me aware of how I was dropped on the porch by a stork. I bet him two weeks allowance that he was lying, but I learned fast not to make bets with him. Mom was not happy to hear how I learned of my adoption so I got my money back and a week worth of his allowance. Looking back I seemed quite pleased with myself. Besides, those five dollars he lost were only going toward a cheap skateboard. This happened to be the same one I wrecked a year later, but that’s because it was a cheap one. I like to think of that story as me trying to save him the well-wasted money, and me a lot of uncalled-for or pay back.
I need to stop my story for a minute because I hear the familiar sound of my hospital room door opening. Hey, Mom and Dad are here! Pausing, I redirect my attention toward them as they sit across from me. I don’t think they know that I can hear them. Sometimes I swear I can see them, not with my eyes, but with my heart. Earlier this afternoon one of those mischievous hooligans namely JJ, knocked over a lamp in my room. I had to laugh a little because I know that will be added to the bill, and it is coming out of his allowance.
Here’s what I love about Cindi’s story: she’s not afraid to use her voice. She’s funny and she’s uninhibited. I’m YOUR fan, Cindi! Thank you for sharing your gift with us here at Random.