CreativeFrog's profile

Her fur was black as the night sky and tan as the desert sand. Her presence shined as bright as the sun above. She brought joy and laughter with every step she made. Her tail swished with her moods. Her motor was full of love. Her meow told a story of friendship. Oreo wasn't named after a cookie, she was named after beautiful memories. She never knew how much her name really meant to me and my best friend. All she knew was that it was her name. It seemed her favorite thing to do was to play ...

Samson's mom was sitting on the porch swing. Her head was turned toward Kayley and Genevieve. He didn't want to scare her but she seemed very focused on them playing together. As he opened the door, she turned her head toward his direction. She got up and gave him a hug. “Oh, Sammy. It's been so long since I've seen you and your family.” She looked at him and smiled. Her hair was a dark gray and neatly pinned back in a bun. Her dark blue eyes were filled with great sadness. &ld...

This little caterpillar misses her butterfly kisses at night. Why did she have to be taken away from me. Didn't she deserve to watch this little caterpillar grow into a beautiful butterfly? Once her caterpillar was a butterfly, didn't she have the right to teach her how to fly? This little caterpillar wants her butterfly stories again. It's just not the same when Daddy tries to tell me the butterfly stories. He's trying, I know he is. Those stories are Mama's stories, not his. I still love hi...

  In a place where lives are changed every day of the week, she wonders why they won’t reach out to her when she needs the help. She has cried out to them and no one has heard her voice. The people around her tend to their own busy lives and don’t take the extra time to see who she really is as a person. Her hands have scratched the surface too many times. She was tired of reaching to these people. Couldn't they just stop one moment and take her hand? . The surface only kept ...

My mother always loved butterflies. She would always tell us why butterflies were important to not only not nature but to us. Her stories were full of love and care. And each story had a moral to it. She has passed down these stories to her children, hoping that one d ay we would pass them on to our own children one day. One of the stories that I fell in love with over the years, is how a caterpillar becomes a butterfly. Caterpillars are ugly and they eat and eat and get fat. Then they build...