I am upstairs right now. Being on an upper level of a building give you a better height advantage if you were to look out a window. Smoking pot is cool.
Unnamed
I walked upstairs and heard a strange sound.
Amanda
the attic upstairs
full of cases of mem’ry
and the former child
Every time I go up the old, creaky, wooden stairs, I find myself up in a dusty attic. There is a small window through bleak sunlight stretches through, and I peer down upon small houses and shops and the Church steeple.
She was upstairs when the storm it. The first bolt of lightening was brilliant enough to light the entire room. It was followed by a thunder quake that shook Al’s computer, and she was downstairs before she knew she’s moved. “Mom?”
Quietly looking downstairs, he wasn’t quite sure if his parents were still awake. Knowing the penalty for staying up too late, he was understandably cautious. Slowly, with the stairs creaking too loudly he snuck downstairs, only to be startled by a sudden movement to scurry off to bed.
Nick Beach
I used to love scaring my brother. He lived in the basement, and I would sneak downstairs and scare the crap out of him. I would have to run upstairs before he caught up to me. I miss it so much.
Jordan
upstairs my family sleeps. they think i’m slumbering too. but i’m not. i’m not. i’m still awake doing who knows what. in the basement where i belone
Ali
The opposite of downstairs. Its where Jon and I like to smoke weed when his uncle is home. Its where his schnauzer Oliver likes to eat the food we leave in on the coffee table when we go to another room.
Stephanie
What’s upstairs in the dark of the closet of my mind, sometimes it is so far behind me, the closet has no windows, no entrance I can find except, when it rattles and surrounds me.
Ashes2
The stairs are wooden, with a wooden railing, and the lights make the hallway yellowed. She took the steps slowly, eyes always turned upward to see what lay ahead.
there is a monster upstairs. I don’t know what it is or how it got there, but it is there and I don’t know what to do about it. Perhaps it is a giant wasp that wants to impale me with it’s man sized stinger.
Scott
the attic upstairs frightened the little girl. she had good reason to be scared too. it was dark and filled with cluttered boxes.
Hannah
at her house, the act of walking upstairs contained memory after memory. my father in high school, coming home late. my brother and i, climbing the stairs to our bedroom right above the kitchen. they were worn out and loved never with carpet on them.
Upstairs is where people have stopped going. There isn’t a need anymore. If it was important, why wouldn’t we keep it downstairs with the love? That’s logic.
Li
She stumbled over yet another step. Her tiny legs almost the same height as the steps. She scapes her elbows again but her tears are inspired by her mother’s scream from upstairs. Finally the worn out girl crawls to her parent’s door. As she swings back the plain white door she finds a red puddle surrounding her mother. Her father is breathing as hard as she is but no emotion fills his face.
“Come here baby girl” he mutters as he approaches her.
Going upstairs, I saw him. Because of my apparent confusion, he rushed to my side. I hugged him and stroked his head. I love my dog.
Michaela
Upstairs the baby screamed with the fury of a thousand nightmares. She screamed, balled her fists, scrunched her face and wriggled on her back. The mother sat below the room, at the bottom of the stairs – unmoving. Silent.
Cassandra
Downstairs. Or anywhere, really; they’re quite imaginative. It’s like a playhouse, just for them. So many sordid things going on and no one has any idea at all.
I was upstairs w hen it happened. I remember it clearly, my mother had sent me to get the laundry. I didn’t have classes that day, so when it struck, and the dust covered my home. I was there. I heard their screams. those who saw it happen. I remember it clearly.
Janice ran upstairs. She knew he was right on her heels. She ran into the master bedroom and slammed the door shut. What now? She locked the door knowing it would only slow him down slightly. Running to the window, she opened it and pushed out the screen. She wasn’t going to let him get her.
She creeps upstairs so no one can hear and wont notice for a while that she has left the noisy party downstairs. She gently closes the door to the upstairs closet and pulling her knees to her chin against the floor she becomes part of the darkness.
Nancy O'Neill
There was a bang, a crash. Upstairs in the only room I wouldn’t enter. The room of fate and betrayal. I found you there, in the room I died in.
I lay in bed, my mind in a hypnagogic state, neither really awake nor asleep, listening to the sound of footfalls upstairs. But I am alone in the house. Who is making that sound?
I walked upstairs in the soft, quilted dressing gown,
its soft pink folds billowing behind me
in random gusts of air as
they blew in from the upstairs window.
Lilyana
Marisa went upstairs, thinking that he wouldn’t notice her absence, and hoping that she would be able to clear her head after what she had just witnessed.
Lori Anne Sickman
What’s going on upstairs? I’m afraid of my skull’s innards like the attic of my youth… full of cobwebs and dark places I’d rather not be.
Hannah Hill
Upstairs today we were involved- till I left and you didn’t come back for me, but then you did. I love our topsy-turvy kind of mutual adoration.
i looked to jessie.besides being an awesome photographer,she had allot going on for herself upstairs…and i didn’t mean her breasts-though those were quite generous in their own way- what i meant was that she was smart as a whip…both book and street smart.
Dan
Upstairs, the writers hum. They run about, frantically with their papers and their copiers and their agendas. They think they must run the show.
Downstairs, a monk hums. Meditation. The world spins, slowing around his silence.
upstairs is the hairdryer i just used. i just learned how to use it maybe a week ago and i’m a twenty year old girl. a pretty girl. i don’t even know how to use a hairdryer…maybe i’m not a real girl. maybe i’m just a sad excuse for one. maybe i don’t feel like a girl because i hardly feel anything anymore. at least my hair is dry.
A
Upstairs was where the monsters lurked. They all knew it, they heard the sounds in the night, the thumpings and groanings and sounds of death and horror. They huddled under blankets in the floors beneath while above them was…was their nightmares come real. They wanted to move, to go away but things could go wrong…wronger.
I didn’t want to go upstairs. I didn’t want to hide out in my room and be confined there, just because she didn’t want me to tell her the truth.
“Your a shitty parent.” I said louder.
Max
Upstairs is where all the fighting happens.
petra
Once she got to the top of the stairs, she listened. Quiet. She tiptoed to the little boys’ room and snuck inside. She heard soft breathing, light snuffles, and kissed each warm cheek. Thankful didn’t even begin to describe the way she felt.
Christine
i dont really have an upstairs…………ummm……..well I do have a downstairs……yep
Amahdi
I lost my life in this house. I was looking out the window at the top of the stairs. Something had caught my eye, and I was quite absorbed. I couldn’t see that my dastardly soon to be widowed husband was sneaking across the foyer, he knew I was upstairs.
There was never a need for an upstairs, just storage space for extra bodies.
Lauren Elizabeth
Upstairs, I have many people in my house right this second. My husband among them. And all they’re doing is talking about stuff they love. I light candles. I’m slow cooking chicken and dumplings. And you know what? Upstairs, life is good.
I am upstairs right now. Being on an upper level of a building give you a better height advantage if you were to look out a window. Smoking pot is cool.
I walked upstairs and heard a strange sound.
the attic upstairs
full of cases of mem’ry
and the former child
Every time I go up the old, creaky, wooden stairs, I find myself up in a dusty attic. There is a small window through bleak sunlight stretches through, and I peer down upon small houses and shops and the Church steeple.
sadfasdfasdfasdfasdfadsf
She was upstairs when the storm it. The first bolt of lightening was brilliant enough to light the entire room. It was followed by a thunder quake that shook Al’s computer, and she was downstairs before she knew she’s moved. “Mom?”
Quietly looking downstairs, he wasn’t quite sure if his parents were still awake. Knowing the penalty for staying up too late, he was understandably cautious. Slowly, with the stairs creaking too loudly he snuck downstairs, only to be startled by a sudden movement to scurry off to bed.
I used to love scaring my brother. He lived in the basement, and I would sneak downstairs and scare the crap out of him. I would have to run upstairs before he caught up to me. I miss it so much.
upstairs my family sleeps. they think i’m slumbering too. but i’m not. i’m not. i’m still awake doing who knows what. in the basement where i belone
The opposite of downstairs. Its where Jon and I like to smoke weed when his uncle is home. Its where his schnauzer Oliver likes to eat the food we leave in on the coffee table when we go to another room.
What’s upstairs in the dark of the closet of my mind, sometimes it is so far behind me, the closet has no windows, no entrance I can find except, when it rattles and surrounds me.
The stairs are wooden, with a wooden railing, and the lights make the hallway yellowed. She took the steps slowly, eyes always turned upward to see what lay ahead.
there is a monster upstairs. I don’t know what it is or how it got there, but it is there and I don’t know what to do about it. Perhaps it is a giant wasp that wants to impale me with it’s man sized stinger.
the attic upstairs frightened the little girl. she had good reason to be scared too. it was dark and filled with cluttered boxes.
at her house, the act of walking upstairs contained memory after memory. my father in high school, coming home late. my brother and i, climbing the stairs to our bedroom right above the kitchen. they were worn out and loved never with carpet on them.
Upstairs is where people have stopped going. There isn’t a need anymore. If it was important, why wouldn’t we keep it downstairs with the love? That’s logic.
She stumbled over yet another step. Her tiny legs almost the same height as the steps. She scapes her elbows again but her tears are inspired by her mother’s scream from upstairs. Finally the worn out girl crawls to her parent’s door. As she swings back the plain white door she finds a red puddle surrounding her mother. Her father is breathing as hard as she is but no emotion fills his face.
“Come here baby girl” he mutters as he approaches her.
Going upstairs, I saw him. Because of my apparent confusion, he rushed to my side. I hugged him and stroked his head. I love my dog.
Upstairs the baby screamed with the fury of a thousand nightmares. She screamed, balled her fists, scrunched her face and wriggled on her back. The mother sat below the room, at the bottom of the stairs – unmoving. Silent.
Downstairs. Or anywhere, really; they’re quite imaginative. It’s like a playhouse, just for them. So many sordid things going on and no one has any idea at all.
I was upstairs w hen it happened. I remember it clearly, my mother had sent me to get the laundry. I didn’t have classes that day, so when it struck, and the dust covered my home. I was there. I heard their screams. those who saw it happen. I remember it clearly.
Janice ran upstairs. She knew he was right on her heels. She ran into the master bedroom and slammed the door shut. What now? She locked the door knowing it would only slow him down slightly. Running to the window, she opened it and pushed out the screen. She wasn’t going to let him get her.
She creeps upstairs so no one can hear and wont notice for a while that she has left the noisy party downstairs. She gently closes the door to the upstairs closet and pulling her knees to her chin against the floor she becomes part of the darkness.
There was a bang, a crash. Upstairs in the only room I wouldn’t enter. The room of fate and betrayal. I found you there, in the room I died in.
I lay in bed, my mind in a hypnagogic state, neither really awake nor asleep, listening to the sound of footfalls upstairs. But I am alone in the house. Who is making that sound?
I walked upstairs in the soft, quilted dressing gown,
its soft pink folds billowing behind me
in random gusts of air as
they blew in from the upstairs window.
Marisa went upstairs, thinking that he wouldn’t notice her absence, and hoping that she would be able to clear her head after what she had just witnessed.
What’s going on upstairs? I’m afraid of my skull’s innards like the attic of my youth… full of cobwebs and dark places I’d rather not be.
Upstairs today we were involved- till I left and you didn’t come back for me, but then you did. I love our topsy-turvy kind of mutual adoration.
i looked to jessie.besides being an awesome photographer,she had allot going on for herself upstairs…and i didn’t mean her breasts-though those were quite generous in their own way- what i meant was that she was smart as a whip…both book and street smart.
Upstairs, the writers hum. They run about, frantically with their papers and their copiers and their agendas. They think they must run the show.
Downstairs, a monk hums. Meditation. The world spins, slowing around his silence.
upstairs is the hairdryer i just used. i just learned how to use it maybe a week ago and i’m a twenty year old girl. a pretty girl. i don’t even know how to use a hairdryer…maybe i’m not a real girl. maybe i’m just a sad excuse for one. maybe i don’t feel like a girl because i hardly feel anything anymore. at least my hair is dry.
Upstairs was where the monsters lurked. They all knew it, they heard the sounds in the night, the thumpings and groanings and sounds of death and horror. They huddled under blankets in the floors beneath while above them was…was their nightmares come real. They wanted to move, to go away but things could go wrong…wronger.
I didn’t want to go upstairs. I didn’t want to hide out in my room and be confined there, just because she didn’t want me to tell her the truth.
“Your a shitty parent.” I said louder.
Upstairs is where all the fighting happens.
Once she got to the top of the stairs, she listened. Quiet. She tiptoed to the little boys’ room and snuck inside. She heard soft breathing, light snuffles, and kissed each warm cheek. Thankful didn’t even begin to describe the way she felt.
i dont really have an upstairs…………ummm……..well I do have a downstairs……yep
I lost my life in this house. I was looking out the window at the top of the stairs. Something had caught my eye, and I was quite absorbed. I couldn’t see that my dastardly soon to be widowed husband was sneaking across the foyer, he knew I was upstairs.
There was never a need for an upstairs, just storage space for extra bodies.
Upstairs, I have many people in my house right this second. My husband among them. And all they’re doing is talking about stuff they love. I light candles. I’m slow cooking chicken and dumplings. And you know what? Upstairs, life is good.