Sunday, November 4, 2012

Rap Battles- George Washington V.S. King George III

KG: Well if it isn't little Georgie in his dingy blue coat?
I'm gonna show you how to fight, so you'd better take notes!

GW: At least I can write, you illiterate prick
You couldn't read 'til you were twelve 'cause your mind was sick!

KG: You do realize that I'm the big K-G-3
-And you're just some doofus who cut a cherry tree?

GW: Big as in the size of your daft royal head?
You think you're some war general, but all you've got in there is lead!

KG: My war strategies are top notch- now you know that ain't no puzzle
So shut your mouth 'homedog', before I get you a muzzle!

GW: Your 'strategies' are lame, for as the Yankees would say,
We can see those bright red coats from a mile away!

KG: It doesn't  matter if you can see the very whites of our eyes
You could be staring right us, and we'd still take you by surprise.

GW: Speaking 'bout surprises, what about your disease
and how you think that you're dying every time that you sneeze
Your illness makes you crazy- guess that's why you tell us lies
Here's a straitjacket- why don't you try it on for size?

KG: Oh, you foolish little Yank, you have an eye to observe
But sit down at the table because you're about to be served!
You Yankees gonna hate me 'cause I be taxing your tea
But you've only got your 'country' through my family!

GW: We don't care who paid for our land, and quite frankly,
We've all come to these colonies just so we can be free.
Your redcoats better watch it 'cause we're playing to win
And your interference is like one giant sin!
I can hardly hear ya' over your porphyria,
And you think future rulers should mirror ya'?

KG: So clever, my dear Patriot, but my wisdom still rings
and these battles- rap and revolution- aren't over 'til the fat lady sings.

GW: So Queen Charlotte will be joining us? Oh, what an occasion!
Her vocals will easily be scarier than than your bloodyback invasion.

KG: Your 'country's' freedom is sinking-

GW: Ahh, that's just wishful thinking.
You want to keep your precious colonies from merging into one.
Well, good luck with that. Wake me up when we've won.

----------------------------
Who do you think won? And who should be in the next rap battle?

Monday, October 15, 2012

Arcadia

Since everyone wants new members and new posts, fine. I'll write something.
----------------------
A small little boy with feathery brown hair
A bright golden heart but deep hurt in his stare
Caught in the hands of evil with someone who should love
His mother's faulty 'wisdom' did not come from above

There was only one thing that could keep this quiet boy sane
Despite, how in his mother's words, he was 'wasting his brain'
Only one thing to keep the storm in his eyes tame
This innocent young boy had always loved to game

The push of the smooth buttons with his nimble fingers
It was here, when he was hurt, he would always linger
The arcade was always there, holding together his life like tape
And it was here that he would find a great escape

One day while pushing buttons during a heated sword fight
The boy rose off the floor and was sucked into the light
His feet returned to the ground, but the floor was not the same
It was earthy and green and pixelated- just like in the game

In his hand he held a sword, its blade posessing a brilliant gleam
He was strong-unlike anytime else in his life, it would seem
But now the boy who cowered in the corner stood like a tall tower
And in place of the raging storm, his big brown eyes now held power

And so the boy ventured on his journey at the mercy of a game
But his pixelated predators could not defeat the boy with the much chanted name
It was an amazing escape for a boy trapped in despair
Who now held triumph in his eyes to fill his empty state

--------------------
I came up with this idea from a song my brother played in his car. The song featured the sort of music you would hear in video games, and I visualized a story to go along with the music. I envisioned a small boy- a victim of his mother's abuse- playing video games in his safe place, the arcade. Suddenly, the Bo is sucked into the game and becomes a heroic video game character, journeying through the game and defeating the forces that oppose him, giving him the strength and power he had never had in his normal life.

Sunday, October 14, 2012

New members?

  Unfortunately, some of our members have been leaving and most of us don't have time to post, due to school, I think it's time we bring in new members. These will not replace already existing members,unless you plan on leaving, but will add to our numbers. I already have a friend in my mind whose writing had been growing very well. Do you guys think we should have new members?

   ~BSH

 

Sunday, September 23, 2012

Poem About My Mother.

We had a homework assignment which was to write a poem about either one of our parents and I chose my Mom, she was a little angry at me that day so I am glad this made her a little bit happy. 
Feel free to critique it and tell me what I did wrong.
I'm particularly proud of this poem, and it's the first poem I've written that I'm proud of.
This is also my first post here. You're going to be seeing more of me here, I've been reading a lot which has inspired me to write a lot.

Mother
My life without her
would be tedious, mundane and bland.
She’s a small sweet cocoon
that shelters me
from the wild, the evil and the foul.
Her smile glows like the radiant sun
that lights up the earth.
I wish I can and relive
all the precious moments I spent with her
and I hope they live eternally.
She’s a voluminous tree
that keeps me shaded
from the wet and stormy nights.
Her hugs are like shields
that keep away enemies.
Her eyes are flowing rivers
of burnt umber paint.
She’s a never ending basket of joy
that lifts my spirits.
Her love is immortal and vast
and stronger than the force of gravity.
-Rawan

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Prologue to '13 may be a lucky number'

   Title of my story is definitely not 100% yet. This is just the only title I could think of. This may not be the world's best prologue, (I'm definitely not the world's best author for that matter either) but I'm gonna try.  Here it goes:



   Prologue
    He was running. He had to get the child away from all the enemies that were hot on his trail.  It would break what was left of his heart, if they would get their hands on her.
    He was almost there. They would shelter her from everything. He knew he should be happy with the arrangement, but why was he feeling so upset? He shook himself. The couple had recently lost their unborn baby, and after hearing about it, he quickly offered up his child. The couple would offer shelter and never show her his world.
   The black bundle in his arms made some whining noises. He stopped for just a second to study his child. Her onyx black eyes bore into his equally black eyes. He put his hand carefully on her soft head that was so vulnerable. He replaced his hand with his lips. He drew back and noticed she was developing the soft black hair that reminded him so much of her mother. He kept walking, though at a noticeably slower pace.
   He reached the meeting point. The couple was already there. Luckily, they knew the price if they ventured any farther. It would cost them their souls.
   He stopped right in front of them. He thrust out the little black bundle. The skull keychain banged against the side. He cringed. He wanted to remove the keychain, but the truth was he wanted to keep her connected to her roots.
   The couple grabbed the black bundle before he even got to say hello. They were that excited, eh?
   He murmured," Goodbye, Phoebe."
   And that was that.

_________________________________________________________________________________
I'm proud of this prologue. Comments are appreciated. Thank you for reading!!! 

Saturday, August 25, 2012

Time to Say Goodbye

  Hey everypony, it's Carolyn!  I decided that I need to cut down on all the blogs I own.  It's quite crazy the amount that I have right now, and it's simply not going to work all that well.  Therefore, I'm going to remove myself from Siete de Awesome.  I've never really posted my work on here, so I feel like it's just taking up space on my dashboard, I suppose.  I love ALL of y'all here!  I'm not leaving the blogging world, just this blog.  Love you all! <3

~Carolyn

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Execution

Bind me up up so I cannot flee
Before I'm flung into the sea
So my hatred may be ever-soaked
And I'll no longer be provoked

The ocean waves find my faults
Each gnashing their teeth of salt
A hunger is born to tear my pale flesh
And eat my soul while the anger's still fresh

I wish to fly and close my eyes
But I am weighted by the mass despise
This bird with ripped wings is now held down
And her heart of gold has turned to brown

My captors are daring and fierce like the sea
But only through the hatred they feel for me
My time has come for damp eyes to turn wetter
And I can't help but feel that I could have done better

I'm pushed to the edge so I may taunt the sea
One nice meal and not so much as a fee
Before I know it, a hand shoves me behind
And as I fall through the air, I say goodbye to my angry mind.

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Violent Haunt

  Objects had been strewn across the room by the cold hands of my fury. Cold, yet fiery. I could feel it, my eyes illuminated so bright and powerful- but powerless. How could someone feel so powerfully enraged, yet so helpless and alone? Hated? Repulsive? If I go on to list more of my many names, you may begin to believe I really am this person. But do you want to know a secret? Oh, I’ll tell you one.
  I’m not really like this. I swear, I can be so nice it shocks me. I wonder how the Hyde to Jekyll transformation occurred. How was this held back? Why? This is the sort of thing that makes you want to throw an ugly book off the table. It confuses you. How could you be a disgusting machine of hate one moment, then find total sweetness inside of you? Feel the urge to show extreme kindness and empathy?. Empathy. That’s it.
  Some people say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I will take this moment to tell you to shut up. It does NOT make you stronger. It breaks you down. You have too much on your plate, you eventually drop it. It breaks. It all spills out. I would know. Not only did I drop a glass bowl of ice cream when I was three, but I’ve kept all my emotions inside until they all burst out of me like fireworks gone awry. THAT’S what makes me this way. I’m reticent. I hate the people at my school, I don’t want to talk to them, and I don’t want to listen to them. I am soft-spoken, so they never hear me anyway. You think I can confide in them? Tell them my deepest hurt? No. I keep it all inside, and it makes a meal out of me. It eats me alive.
  Anyways, what compels me to be so nice sometimes? Empathy. I see some idiot picking on someone online. Everybody hates her. They say things, and I don’t like it. I comfort the girl, tell her she’s perfect. I tell her I’ve been through it all. She’s amazed at how nice I’m being. Why don’t I hate her? Why am I the only one who’s not mad? It’s because of empathy. I know what it’s like, and I build people up when they go through it. What doesn’t kill me doesn’t make me emotionally stronger. It enables me to comfort and understand when no one else will, and it gives me stronger opinions on the treatment of people.
  As I drag my feet to pick up ugly books and scattered pages, I think of these opinions, my reasoning. I wonder how people justify cussing someone out when they do wrong. Sorry to butt in, but being rude and nasty to someone who did something rude and nasty is hypocritical.  Let’s say someone cusses out your friend. You cuss them out. Great, now you’re both in wrong. You inflicted pain on another person. You have now done wrong, too. Your tongue is slippery as soap, which is what your mouth is going to get pretty soon.

Good. I think. She won’t be coming for me today. All I had to do was think positive thoughts. Review my opinions on human treatment in my head, getting into something without digging at myself. But it was then that I realized that I had just thrown a storm of books across the room. Rats. Maybe she was coming for me.

  I heard it. The unmistakable sound of a heartbeat. It was loud and artificial. Loud enough to bounce around the stone walls. Every time I heard it, she came. She was coming. My face scrunched as if I were about to cry, but I released it. Tears were in my eyes. I was scared.
  I saw her. First I saw her silhouette walking angrily down the hallway, but then she broke out into a run. I let out a little squeal. With my back against the wall, I shrank down, crying as I went.   
  
  She came. It was worse than any storm you may have ever cowered from. This was a whole new storm. Tears formed the rain, which was harder than any rain you would know. She came, yelling, her echoing voice more thunderous than anything you’ve ever experienced. She threw herself against me, her fists acting as two big hailstones. She shoved me against the wall harder than any stormy wind could have, and yanked me around. She pulled me up into a lopsided standing position and threw me to my left.
I collapsed onto the floor not out of weakness, but in order to crawl away from her grasp. As she had just revealed, I was an easier target if I was standing up. It’s a bit of a pain to lean down and beat on someone. I crawled frantically, but not fast enough. My heart skipped and I let out a short scream as she quickly bounded toward me. She dove onto the ground- onto me- and pinned me down. Her breathing was rough, her eyes fierce. The darkness of the room made their usual shade of dark blue turn even darker. Her hair was blonde, but a different sort of blond from mine. Her face was not mine either. Nevertheless, this violent fear of mine was me.

Saturday, May 5, 2012

Electrify- Chapter Three: My Competition

Chapter Three- My Competition

  On the train, Cavan and I were introduced to our mentors through Lylac. There was Shannon, a beautiful woman with glistening red hair and kind green eyes. She had a voice like sweet honey and a smile that was nearly reassuring. Abel was tall and a bit on the quiet side. He shook Cavan's hand, ruffling his messy black hair. Although he had a strong build, I could not see any ferocity coming from him. Shannon didn't seem like your typical deadly victor, either.
  I remember many of the reaping from the other districts. District 1 had Phaenna, a beautiful girl with reddish-brown hair, and Spark, who had a sort of devilish smirk. District 2 had the most disturbing reaping by far. The tribute girl was named Violet. She had long, black hair and fierce eyes that could pierce through your heart without a spear. She had a demented look to her, as if she was born to kill. There was something very dark about her, indeed. Even my stomach found it all a bit unsettling. The male tribute was called Crim. I couldn't help but think of crimson, the color of blood. His name also rhymed with 'grim', a word that could be used to describe his appearance. He had dark brown hair and the same smirk as seen on Spark, but with just a dash more evil. I couldn't say I had ever watched a pleasant District 2 reaping.
  I believe the name of the District 3 girl was Charity, but I couldn't quite catch the male's. It sounded hard to pronounce- very strange. The third syllable sounded like 'Pete', so I nicknamed him 'Peter'. District 4 reaped a pretty blonde girl, Erin, and a boy named Travis volunteered in the place of a twelve-year-old. Then the recap of District 5 rolled, and I was a bit disappointed when I noticed how pale I was. Shannon commented that it wasn't very noticeable, and that I had done a nice job keeping my emotions inside. We saw Cavan volunteer for tiny Felix, and Lylac commented on how good she looked on camera this year.
  District 6 reaped Phoebe, a harmless-looking girl with hair like Phaenna, and Davy, who had a semi-strong build. District 7's Echo seemed confident, and the male, Clinton, had obviously gained his strength from years of chopping wood. Great, handy with an axe, I was sure.
  District 8 had fierce-looking tributes called Medea and Cronus. Medea especially, as she had that devilish Career look to her, which wasn't exactly common with other Districts. District 9's tributes seemed just a bit timid and weak. Maya reminded me of myself, not having any apparent strength, but Jasper appeared to be a bit strong. District 10 provided Kalliope and Kirk, who seemed to be strong and smart. District 11 reaped two dark tributes named Rhea and Linus. Finally, there was Tethys and Pluto from District 12, both obviously from the poorer class, as they were underfed and sullen-looking.

"And that's your competition!" Lylac shrilled a little to excitedly, switching off the television.

"Think about which tributes stood out to you. The ones you may have to look out for." Abel said.

  I took Abel's advice and thought about the disturbing ones and the strong ones. The Careers were Phaenna, Spark, Violet, Crim, Erin, and Travis. However, the ones I was worried about were Spark, Violet, and Crim. Spark seemed annoyingly devilish, one of those you can never get rid of and just wish they would die already. Those tributes were almost always Careers. Violent- I mean Violet, and Crim looked bloodthirsty. Don't think I shouldn't be judging them so, as this is usually the case with District 2. A little less than ten years ago, a District 2 victor won after she ripped another tribute's throat open with her teeth. I was only six, and don't remember watching that part, but I recall people talking about it.
  So there was Spark, Violet, and Crim. Who else? There was Clinton from 7 and Medea and Cronus from 8. Kalliope and Kirk, possibly, although Kirk was stronger. That was basically it. Spark, Violet, Crim, Clinton, Medea, Cronus, and Kirk. Seven of the other twenty-three tributes-not counting Cavan-were at least a little of a threat to me. Sure, Cavan was strong, but it would be a bit awkward to assume he would come after me. Well, only awkward because he was in the room as I thought about this. Seven out of twenty-three doesn't sound like a lot, but that's nearly one third. I reminded myself that half of the tributes usually die in the bloodbath at the Cornucopia. Naturally, one positive perspective triggers two negative ones. I was weak and had no skill, meaning I was one of the most likely to die on that first day. And then, even if I did somehow survive, most of the other tributes who survived would probably be on my list of predators. Seven predators out of what is about twelve? And the 'predator' status was only something I gave to those who looked skilled. Heck, timid Maya could be perfectly capable of sticking a knife in my back!
  All this negativity spurred me to come up with something good. What if I had some sort of hidden power? Something waiting to be discovered in the Training Center. I remembered my token, Dew's shining gift. I held the golden bolt in my hand. I would electrify. Yes, that's what she told me. I would do great out there. Electrify. For the rest of the night, that's what I told myself. I would electrify.

Electrify- Chapter Two: Visitors

Chapter Two- Visitors


  In the Justice Building, which seemed to lack justice most of all, few people came to visit. My mother was escorted into the room carefully, then sat on the red, velvety couch parallel to mine. Not that she needed to see me, anyway. My mother had lost her sight in an accidental explosion at the electrical plant she worked. With her eyesight, some mental abilities also fled, so she hasn't been right in the head since. Still, she can understand most concepts.

"Katia." she whispers softly, outstretching her arms. This is a nickname only she calls me, which makes it all the more special. I stand up and rush into her embrace, tears beginning to roll down both our cheeks. "Win for us. Please." she says in broken English, the missing fragments lost forever in the explosion.

"I will," I promised. I began to wonder how my mother's mental state would deteriorate from now through the Games. Would she be all right?

We continued to hug until the Peacekeepers escorted her out. As it took an extra amount of time due to her blindness, the thing was a long, dragged out process, and made things all the more painful.

I dried my eyes for my next visit, which turned out to be a girl from school. Dew Moony was a quiet, geeky sort of girl with golden blonde hair with jagged ends and thin, light orange glasses. She adjusted her white jacket nervously and stood awkwardly, too anxious to sit.

"My stepfather made me come here…I mean-" she struggled to fix a potentially offensive statement. "Perkins is against Cavan, so he's forcing me to support you- not that it's a bad thing!" Dew obviously lacked confidence in her ability to say the right thing.

"It's okay, just relax. But what's the deal with Cavan?" I knew Howard Perkins was a very disagreeable man, and had personally felt sorry for Dew when he and her mother had announced their engagement the previous year.

"He and Mr. Cutler have had a few falling-outs lately. Neither one of them really have decent social skills."

I expected her to defensively ease any harshness from the latter statement, but she did not. Good, so she wasn't a total pansy.

"So, to radically display his disdain, he's trying to convince us all to help you out as much as we can. Not that we really have a choice." She looks down to the ground, sadness surely brimming in her eyes. It's true, pushy old Mr. Perkins always gets his way.

"Well," I try to word this in a not-so-selfish way, "I guess it's good someone may actually be sponsoring me." I sprinkle a touch of my low self-confidence so that the sadness would soften any edge.

"Yeah, but I would sponsor you anyway. Cavan has never really been nice to me. You're one of the few people who are, actually."

I look up, surprise shimmering a bit too obviously in my eyes. Sure, I don't makes puns out of her name or flat out put her down, but those are some pretty low expectations. Nevertheless, I accept the compliment. Dew Moony may be a reticent outcast sort of girl, but in that way she resembles me. My only real friend was Flynn Caster. Well, she wasn't my real friend, anymore. My anger began to rush back, but I hold it in.

Dew holds something out to me. Something shiny and beautiful. "Here, I want you to take this."

I peer into her cupped palm at the golden puddle. It's a necklace. A golden chain with a dazzling charm in the shape of a lightning bolt. "It's beautiful." I say, carefully accepting the chain.

"Will you wear it? As your district token?"

I had forgotten all about that. Each tribute could bring one item from home. "Of course. Thank you." It was all I could manage to say. It really was beautiful. District 5's industry was electricity, and would be well represented.

"You'll electrify, Katelyn. Electrify." I can see a spark in her blue eyes, shining brighter than the glint of her glasses. "Wear it as a reminder."

"Electrify." I whisper. "I will."

I feel hope as Dew leaves. I feel like more than a tall, yet skinny girl without a chance. What if Dew was my true friend all along? In that moment, she was certainly a better friend than Fynn. Fynn. Anger from her betrayal rushed back. Would she even come to visit me? She didn't.


  Other visitors included a couple of other girls from my school, Vena Janson and Jenna Decker, who only came for a brief time to wish me luck. Still, it meant a lot to me. When it was time to leave for the Capitol, I suppressed what could amount to be a long bout of crying, sobbing, rather. I knew that once I stepped outside, cameras would be fixed on my face in an attempt to catch any emotion. I was escorted to the train, I didn't need to try to lie. My emotion had gone numb from the shock when I had suddenly realized that I was basically, inevitably going to die.

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Electrify (A Hunger Games Story)- Chapter 1: The Reaping

  My fists clench up and my chest stiffens. I shakily make my way towards the stage, nearly forgetting not to act scared. I wished I could peel away the eyes that followed my every move, waiting for me to break down, contemplating my odds of survival. The air was silent as I carefully made my way up the steps.  It was almost hostile, the way every sound had stopped and fixed its eyes on me, as if I were prey. From then on, that's how I would be viewed- as prey.
  I stand awkwardly and fearfully as the male tribute is reaped. I could have sworn I had heard someone groan at the sound of the name. Felix Canta was not exactly someone you could bet on bringing your District glory. He was fourteen, a year younger than me, but appeared to be twelve. He had short, spiky black hair, and thick glasses to match. I could almost feel all of the pressure shift to me, as I was now our District's only hope. At least, I was, until the time for volunteering came.

"Here!" A boy my age shot up his hand as if he had waited for this moment his entire life, and ran towards the stage. Felix has met his salvation.

  Cavan Cutler was basically the opposite of a now relieved-looking Felix. He was tall for his age, and had a strong build. While the reaped tribute appeared as if he had never touched a butter knife, Cavan's family actually owned a store that sold knives as sharp as small swords. I had passed by the place once, but the rows of weapons hanging on the walls and the sight of Sean Cutler shouting at a disagreeable customer drove me away with a light shiver. Mr. Cutler was not a man to haggle with, and Cavan sometimes possessed the same obstinacy. Many kids at school were afraid of him and his overpowering muscles.
  With a bit of relief, almost all the pressure seemed to sink onto Cavan's shoulders. However, I realized that this meant no one would consider my survival. I would be an obsolete tribute, one of those who dies in the first twenty seconds at the Cornucopia. And if I had competition like Cavan, how was I to stand a chance? I was merely a skinny girl with a talent for math and botany.

"Let's hear it for Katelyn Fry and Cavan Cutler, our District 5 tributes!" Our escort, Lylac Gleam, awkwardly raised one of each of our arms, her enthusiasm comically contrast to my sullen face and Cavan's serious one.

  But then, it hits me. In the whirlwind of my reaping, I had forgotten something. A promise. But it wasn't mine. I angrily scan the fifteen-year-olds' section, my eyes resting disdainfully on a girl with dirty blond hair and skin a bit on the pale side. Fynn Caster meets my gaze, and my blue eyes pierce into hers expectantly. She was my best friend, and claimed to care about me more than anything. Just two days ago, at school, she had made a vow. She told me that if I were reaped, she would volunteer. She promised. I could see the guilt in her eyes, but there was something else. She was sorry, but not just because I was chosen. She was sorry for feeling glad she hadn't volunteered. I shook my head angrily, and switched my gaze. If I won the Games and came home, I would find a way to get back. I would get my revenge somehow. This, I promised myself.

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

A little school story.

In class, we write stories about a certain theme. This theme was "takes place in historical event or place". I picked the 1904 World's Fair. This is a short story and maximum is two pages. Hope you enjoy and feel free to give me critiques.


Missing at the World's Fair
               By: Brusselsprout Head #12

    "Look at this display, Patricia!" I exclaimed. I turned expecting to see my younger sister standing behind me with her on her toes trying to get a look at the display of how syrup is made but my little sister was nowhere in sight. Patricia was nowhere in sight.

   I quickly spun myself to look all over the small exhibit room. Patricia could be anywhere. My heart told me she wasn't in the room. I exited quickly, trying my best not to run into people.  Once out, I  scanned the huge crowd and my heart sank. She could be anywhere in this crowd, worse anywhere in the fair.

   I was soon bustling through the crowds and around carts. The long dress, many undergarments, and the tight corset didn't help with my movement at all. Running through out the crowd was even more difficult as I kept stepping onto other ladies' trains or would get a feather in the face from the hats.  I kept also running past vendor's talking about their goods and I would almost stop for a second, allured.

   I was soon confused about my whereabouts and was scanning the crowd and buildings but unfortunately, I had stumbled across the "live people exhibits" and was now unsure whether the children I saw where my sister or not. "Patricia! Patricia!" I called over and over while walking past these exhibits, knowing these were my sister's favorites. 

   People now began to look at me like I lost my head and with all the running into I've done, I know I must look terrible. My corset was beginning to chafe and my long skirt must be caked with mud. Even though my appearance was terrible I wasn't going to give up. I needed to find my sister.

   Hope was beginning to fade and I was praying my sister would be alright.  "Elizabeth! Over here!"
   I turned happiness overflowing thinking it was my little sister. When I located the little girl it wasn't Patricia. Another pair over sisters where reunited and my heart sank.
   I passed a group when I heard somebody say in an aghast tone, " That's preposterous! They couldn't have run out of bowls this early! Oh how will they serve the ice cream?" Something clicked in my brain and I knew where my sister was. I headed off in the direction I needed to go.
 
   My sister's favorite treat was ice cream and she was looking forward to tasting the world class ice cream here at the fair. She had to be by the ice cream stand. I recalled the conversation we had earlier, " Oh, Patricia, look at this they have 'live people exhibits' here. It's where there are people as the exhibit and we learn about their culture from their home lands," I said to my sister while looking over the brochure we where handed. " Interesting!" My sister exclaimed." I can't wait to look at them, but, dear sister, when are we going to the ice cream stand? I want to taste all of the wonderful flavors they have, and I'm beginning to get hungry. " I brushed it off, originally thinking that it was just my sister doing her usual whining. Now looking back on it, it told me her location.

   When I arrived at the ice cream booth, along side the buildings that were works of art, I found Patricia at the front of the line paying out of the small clutch she carried. I rushed up to her and hugged her hard not caring that her corset was probably squeezing her to death right now. "Sister," she wheezed, " please let go of me."
     
   " I'm just so glad to see you, again." I said while releasing her.
     
      "Here you go ma'am. I'm sorry for the long wait , but we ran out of bowls and had to use waffles to hold them." The vendor said while handing my sister her ice cream.
   
      I immediately saw the thing he was talking about when he told of the thing made out of the waffle. It was shaped like a cone but you could tell it was made out a waffle.
 
     "Mm." My sister groaned. " This is absolutely wonderful! Here, Lizzie, try some." She handed me her ice cream.

       I grabbed it and took a lick of the ice cream and took a bite of the waffle shaped cone. "Delicious!" I squealed and turned to the vendor and said, " What shall we call this?"
 
      "The ice cream cone." He said after a couple of second passed, clearly thinking about it.
  
     "The ice cream cone it is." I replied, nodding. "I would also like one." I handed over my money. After receiving the cone, I grinned. I was filled with happiness, because I found my sister and got to taste a new creation.

                The End

Sorry if there is anything missing. 

Sunday, April 1, 2012

Saturday, March 31, 2012

Character Profile for Lilith Elliot

Identity
Name: Lilith Elliot
Age: About 13 3/4
Date of Birth: 4/7/98
Gender: Female
Place of Birth: Irwin County Hospital, Ocilla, Georgia
Race/Ethnicity/Species: Human, Caucasian


Physical Description

Height: 5'6
Weight: Somewhere around 100
Hair Color: Light brown, still relatively dark
Hair Length: Long, maybe 7-8 past the shoulders
Hairstyle: Straight, but has a hint of a wave to it
Eye Color: Dark slate-blue, grayish
General Body Description: Overall petite, just a bit short
Typical clothing style: Darker, earthy colors
Birthmarks: None
Tattoos: None
Scars: None (yet?)

Education
Education Level: 8th grade (second semester)
Occupation: None
Hobbies: Interested in unusual, paranormal things
Languages & Dialects Spoken: English
Talents/Skills: (Possibly yet to come) See 'Powers'

Other
Character History: Lilith and her family have lived Ocilla, Georgia all their lives. Her parents ran a small bed and breakfast, but have now moved the family to Marietta to open up their newest business.
Family: Mother-Lynne Elliot, Father- Jake Elliot, Sister (Fraternal twin)- Leila Elliot
Significant Other(s): None
Personality: Sweet, down-to-earth, tomboyish.
Habits: None
Likes: Paranormal things, things most girls her age may find unusual
Dislikes: Girly things
Dreams: None in particular
Fears: None
Anything Especially Unique?: Lilith has a fraternal twin sister, Leila. They share the same interests, tomboyish personality, eye color, and even face shape, in spite of the fact that they are fraternal. The only obvious difference is between their hair colors. (If it weren't for their hair colors, they could be mistaken for identical twins.) Her nicknames include- 'The Night Twins', 'The Vampires', (both shared with her sister), and 'Lilie' (a pet name sometimes used by her mother). She despises her pet name, and doesn't like the shared nicknames, as they do not reflect her and Leila's real personalities in the slightest.

Special
Powers: Can see, communicate with paranormal as if she would with a normal person
Traits: No exceptional traits
Temperament: Not totally reticent, but more of an introvert than others, as she is not like everyone else she knows.

Friday, March 23, 2012

Last Breath

Okay, I'm going to feel some INTENSE emotions on Sunday, (*cough*nervousness) so I just have to write a poem.


When I close my eyes at night I think of you
And all I want is you and your blue
Eyes, reading my last thoughts
...And I thought you ought

My heart will speed like an antsy drum
I hope you'll know where I'll be coming from
While I tense up and my nervous fears are still left,
Before it all falls, I'll take my last breath

Of the life I had before, but now it's closing in
But I couldn't take the 'what could have been'
So to tell you the truth I really mean it
There's no extinguisher, the fire is lit

I never told you what I was thinking
And now I see, for a year I've been sinking
So I'll tell you, before I blow
And maybe you'll tell me what I need to know

As I take my last breath of the life I had before
Then I'll be falling, now no one will ignore
Me anymore...Because they know I'm waiting
I'm still contemplating...

But now you'll know what I've thought about you,
Please help me understand...I hope you do


Background: Last night, I had had it. Finally I typed up a long letter for the guy I like and on Sunday, I plan for my friend to give it to him. I'm nervous about it, but I know I need to say it. I can't hold it all in forever. Basically, as I nervously watch my friend give it to him, I'll take my last breath before everything unfolds or creases itself up even more. It's a huge risk, but I need to take it. If you don't get why, do you know the song 'Nothing Ever Happens' by Rachel Platten?

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Good At Heart

The rough carpet dug fiercely into my petite little hands. My knuckles were flushed white and stinging from the pain. Every couple of seconds there would be a light the window would creak, but it sounded more like a tap. This made a bit jumpy, as my instinct told me it was my follower signaling that she had found me. This made me realize how visible I was from the window, so I crawled a few inches under the desk.
There was a horrible noise. Footsteps had patted the tiled hallway, right outside the classroom. They had stopped. I could almost imagine her looking in, her evil eyes piercing every last object in sight. More footsteps, now muffled by the carpet, trailed into the room. I don't recall being found, but the next moment I was standing right in front of her, hysterical because I had been discovered.

She began shaking me. "HOW COULD YOU THINK THAT WAY?" Her eyes were unfathomably wild. They almost seemed to have streaks of red glistening in, giving her a beast-like countenance. Her hair swung in the air as if it had been trying to whip me.

"You DON'T UNDERSTAND!" I began to sob, and she shook me even harder.

"HE KILLED MILLIONS OF PEOPLE! YOU KNOW WHERE YOU CAME FROM? THE SAME PLACE HE'S GONE TO!"

I tried to break away, but her grasp had no chance of weakening. "Bridgit!" I screamed.

Her nails dug into my hands, taking the place of those carpet burns. "YOU SUPPORT EVIL ! YOU DESERVE TO GO DOWN WITH HIM!"

I began to scream long, horrible screeches. It seemed to last for an eternity, but it was then that I awoke. I was greeted my buckets of sweat and unbearable heat. I threw off my covers and slowly accepted the fact that it had all been a dream. That wouldn't even happen if she found out. But Bridgit would surely hate me, and not for just a day. I still wouldn't be safe if I told her. Bridgit would never understand, never accept wild opinions, never understand the truth about humans. Deep down, everyone is good at heart.


_____________________________________________________________________________________
"I still believe, in spite of everything, that people are really good at heart."
-Anne Frank

Sunday, March 11, 2012

Malicious Poster

I once made a teaser, which was just a picture of all of the characters combined edited to have a green glow. I just completed a poster that has a little more serious tone.



In case you didn't know, Malicious is a book I started a while back. Although there has not been progress on Malicious or Life Of A Schizophrenic, I have no intentions of giving up on either of them. I will continue writing them, I just don't know when.

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Complete Opposites

I should run away,
I should be afraid.
You're rumored to be a spy,
A master of pain.
Sit down beside me,
A smile as wide as the sea.
Purely enchanting,
The way you planned it to be.
This is a game,
Brutal to the end.
Playing with my mind,
Using your many manipulations.
Complete opposites, you and I
You soar, I fly.
I've got my morals down,
You let all yours drown.
Rejected by your father,
Mine attempted to make me better.
You're dangerous,
Malicious,
Hidden behind all your lies.
I'm open and friendly,
Pure truth in my eyes.
Somehow you've convinced me
To waltz this risky dance.
What you and I have
Is a deadly romance.

Thursday, March 1, 2012

Character Profile for Elizabeth Johnson


IdentityName: Elizabeth Johanna Johnson, nickname Eliza
Age: 12-almost 13
Date of Birth: June 17, 1999
Gender: Female
Place of Birth: {{Guessing you mean city here.  XD}} Kansas City, Kansas
Race/Ethnicity/Species: American!  XD

Physical DescriptionHeight: 5' 3"
Weight: 90 pounds
Hair Color: Dark brown
Hair Length: Mid-back
Hairstyle: Usually up in some sort of way, usually a high ballet bun, but she loves French and fishtail braids.
Eye Color: Deep brown
General Body Description: Tall, slender, strong dancer legs.  ;)
Typical clothing style: Tee-shirt and sweatpants or jeans, often wearing a sweatshirt.  :)
Birthmarks: A small birthmark on her left ankle
Tattoos: N/A
Scars: N/A

Education
Education Level: 7th grade-current
Occupation: N/A
Hobbies: DANCE.DANCE.DANCE.DANCE.
Languages & Dialects Spoken: French :)
Talents/Skills: Dance

Other
Character History: Elizabeth is a 12-year-old girl who has been dancing since she was merely three, and it's her life.  . . . Not much more to say.  XD
Family: Only child, mother and father. :)
Significant Other(s): NO!  XD
Personality: Theatrical, shy at school, extremely outgoing at dance
Habits: She's always moving, always dancing.  :)
Likes: Dance, summer, yellow, reading, language arts.  :)
Dislikes: Math, cold weather.
Dreams: To be a professional dancer with East Coast Ballet
Fears: Injury and spiders
Anything Especially Unique? Not specifically . . .

Special
Powers: N/A
Traits: Dancer, definitely a stage-girl  {loves being on stage}.
Temperament: Can put up a fight for what she thinks is true, but usually a very simple temperament.  :)

~~

  This is for the main character in a story I am writing.  Would you like me to post it on here?  :D

Stand Alone -2/?

A week. A week was all it took for this “zombie” virus to bring down every major power, every government, and every family. A week was all it took to make people lose every shred of humanity that had been loosely held together by corrupt governments. A week was all it took to turn me into a regretless, ruthless zombie killer.

Everyone thought that the thing everyone had to worry about was the Mayan Calendar, and the fact that France now had atomic weapons and was blackmailing all nations into doing what they wanted (I guess the French got tired of being called cowards). No one ever thought about zombies. Well, except the crazy nerds who lived in their mother’s basement, but who ever paid attention to those loons?

Guess it turned out they weren’t such loons after all.

As I trudged through the soft dirt that lies across many of the dry, grassy plains that lined most of eastern Colorado, I reflected on how my week had been. Christmas had been only three days ago. Only three days ago, I had fled my house, hoping and praying with every fiber of my five foot being that I could survive this apocalypse.

December 28th, 2012. That’s what today’s date was. A week after the Mayans predicted the world would end, or supposedly predicted. I wondered if they had known about this zombie-infested, living nightmare that had previously been known as Earth. I wish Star Trek had been right about the future; a utopia where the entire human race got along, explored the galaxy, and met Vulcans whose greeting was freaking “Live long and prosper”. Of course, we had to be given this Hades known as “28 Days Later”. What luck the human race has.

I was brought out of my grim thoughts when my foot caught on an old tree root sticking out of the ground, even though there were no trees around. I tripped and fell flat on my face into the sinking dirt. Maybe the human race did have some luck; at least I wasn’t being chased by zombies at this very moment.

The noise of the venomous horde shattered the silence that had been comforting me.

Oh, crap. Well, I guess Murphy’s Law has it in for me.

Sharp grass also had it in for me, too, as I had gotten a long, deep scratch on my arm from my fall, which could not possibly be covered by my grey tank top. If the horde attacked and I got blood or saliva on my cursed arm… I didn’t even want to think about becoming one of them.

Rapidly, I used my grimy palms to push myself up, not bothering to dust off my clothing, like most of the girls in my high school would’ve. I didn’t have the time for frivolities like that. I had to get out of there, and fast.

Making sure that my gun (Your father’s gun, I silently reminded myself) was secure in its holster, I took off running, tearing through the prairie like there was no tomorrow. With the horde growing as fast as it is, there probably is no tomorrow.

Once I was satisfied with my distance away from the loathsome terror, I practically collapsed straight onto a moss-covered rock. Exhausted, I quickly rummaged through the small pack I had on my sweaty back, yanked a bottle of water out, popped off the cap, and guzzled down the angelic liquid. I drank so fast that I could’ve quite possibly drowned myself.

While I enjoyed the sweet, hydrating drink, I wasn’t paying much attention to what was going on around me. That is, until I saw him.

An actual human, male in stature, was walking towards me from about five hundred yards away. I swiftly set my bottle down, and my hand flew to the pistol on my waist. During a zombie-doomsday, one could never be too careful. With all the raiders around, I had to keep constant vigilance. There were times, after all, when your fellow man could prove to be more deadly than the horde. People were intelligent, conniving, and manipulating. They were also way more agile than the horde could ever hope to be. That was a lesson that I did not want to learn from personal experience.

As the male neared my position, I got a better glimpse at his features. He looked like he could’ve been no older than sixteen, and definitely was not one of the guys who would’ve played football. What he lacked in muscle, however, he made up for in height. It would not have been difficult for him to take me down and make off with the few things I had.

The fact that he was getting closer every second was unnerving. I slowly drew the .45 from its resting place, but still held it to my side. Once he had gotten close enough to see the gun my hand was gripping, however, he lifted up his hands in surrender. I can’t say I blamed him; I would’ve done the exact same thing.

“I come in peace,” he said, with a tone of joking in his voice. I didn’t like that. People who didn’t take this whole apocalypse thing seriously shouldn’t have survived this long. Like Obama…

I rolled my eyes before responding, “Congrats, you get a Nobel Peace Prize. Now, if you’ll so kindly leave me alone.” I waved my hand good-bye with an extremely fake grin on my face. I’m sure I looked like an absolute clown.

Rather than turning around leaving like I had requested, he walked right over to me and sat down on the same rock I was sitting on; right beside me. This was no small rock, mind you, as it was more like a boulder. Yet, he was deliberately sitting right up against me. Holy crap, this dude is annoying.

“Is there something I can help you with?” I asked through gritted teeth. I’m known for my extremely short fuse; I was expelled from several elementary and middle schools for violent outbursts. I could control it better in high school, but I’d still gotten many detentions.

He reclined back on the rock, arms behind his head, and eyes closed, as though he hadn’t a care in the world. “Meh, I just thought you’d need a travel buddy.”

“A. Travel. Buddy!” Oh no, my temper was going off. “This is an apocalypse; the end of the world! You treat it as though we are kindergarteners on a field trip! What is wrong with you?!”

“Nothing’s wrong with me, my lovely lady friend,” he said, half opening one eye to glance at me. “You simply take life much too seriously.”

Lovely lady friend? What the heck is wrong with this guy?! “Oh yeah? And how, pray tell, do you know anything about me? I’ve never seen you before in my life.” I had met guys similar to him, however, and I hated them. They were always the cocky gits who clowned around in class and thought they could get any girl they flirted with. Yuck.

Au contraire, I’ve been observing you for a while.” He waved his hand as though to say, ‘It’s no big deal’.

This really ticked me off. “‘Observing’ me?! Isn’t that called stalking?!”

He put on a smile very similar to Flynn Rider’s ‘smolder’. “Observing and stalking are two very different things. Stalking is for creeps; observing is for people who simply want to know more about you.”

“Oh, so you were stalking me,” I said, looking dead serious. Maybe if I irritated him as much as he irritated me, he’d leave.

“I am no creep.” He feigned feeling insulted. “I was simply watching you to see how well you could survive. I’ve only been following you since Fort Collins, which you passed about a day ago.”

I was surprised that I had passed Fort Collins; I thought Longmont was the town that was on the horizon. “Really? Where are we now, then?”

“About twenty minutes from Norfolk. We’re actually only about twenty-one miles from Cheyenne.” He glanced around the area surrounding us, as if the dead grass around us was pink and sparkly. Boy, were we lucky that this was the driest and warmest winter Colorado had ever seen. That the United States had ever seen, for that matter.

“What time is it?” I asked. I hoped that we would have enough time before sundown to get to Norfolk. Maybe there was an abandoned house we could hide out in for the night. Ah, sleeping in a bed. Even though I had left my house only a matter of days ago, the ground was already wearing on my neck.

The guy pulled out an iPod touch and pressed the sleep button, bringing up the lock screen to see the time. “It’s three fifty-eight. If we walk quickly, we can make it there by the time the sun sets, which is typically around five.”

“Where did you get an iPod that’s actually charged? It’s been five days since any power has been available,” I asked, shocked. “Mine died three days ago. I ended up leaving it at my house.” I got up, brushed of the seat of my pants, slung my mini backpack over my shoulder, and turned to face him.

He pressed the sleep button again to turn the iPod back to its original state, and slipped it into the back pocket of his cargo pants. “I got it about two days ago, when I left Fort Collins. There’s a Sam’s Club about four blocks from my house, and it had a backup generator. Outside of the fact that there were zombie guts and blood everywhere, and the occasional zombiefied employee, it was rather enjoyable. All the iPods and iPads that were on display were completely charged, per usual, and so I took one.” He smirked at me, pretty much saying, ‘I’m awesome and you know it.’ He then proceeded to also get up, and stand next to me. Great, just what I need. I hate working with people.

“Why didn’t you take an iPad? Afraid you wouldn’t be strong enough to lift it?” I replied, and started to walk through the barbecued prairie. I preferred to stay away from the roads. It was much too easy to run into the horde.

“Ha, no. It more had to do with the fact that iPod is more practical in a life-or-death situation.” He smiled, looking amused at my comment. Crap, that was suppose to offend you, you idiot. I hated amusing people.

“I’m sure you’ll attract more zombies than females with that face,” I said snarkily, hoping this would push his buttons and make him leave me alone.

Unfortunately, it worked about just as well as the previous statement. Actually, it worked worse, way worse. He laughed. “You’re really funny, you know,” he complimented with a smile.

“I’m honored you find my attempt-at-being-insulting banter entertaining,” I said dryly, and picked up my pace to try and lose him. Three words: it didn’t work.

It actually took us twenty three minutes to reach Norfolk, and I told him he was stupid and obviously couldn’t do any more math than counting to five. He laughed, again. This was plain vexing.

We walked down Main Street of Norfolk, looking for any house that might be in good enough condition that they could have food, bottled water, and furniture.

“Xavier and- wait, what’s your name?” Apparently his name was Xavier. Weirdo.

“Joely. No, I’m not on Facebook, so don’t even ask,” I said, trying to make a point about how utterly stupid he was, thinking we could have Facebook now, with any kind of internet connection. Then again, he’d never said anything about the stupid social network… Great, now I sound like the idiot.

“Xavier and Joely are looking to move from their houses in Denver and Fort Collins, Colorado, to live the small town life in Norfolk. They have been presented with three options. Which one are they going to pick?” Xavier said with suspense.

I rolled my eyes. “Have you watched ‘House Hunters’ or something?”

He grinned. “Well, now I know you have.”

I punched him in the arm. “My mom watched it, okay? I sometimes sat and watched it with her, but not all that often.”

We walked in silence after that, until we came upon a decent looking house. Sure, there were blood splatters on the siding, but that’s to be expected in your average zombie infestation.

The house was a cobalt blue, with a white door and windows. The yard looked like it was in need of a weekend mow, but there had been no one around to do so. The owners were either A, now zombies, or B, eaten by zombies. What lovely prospects.

Xavier started to walk up the driveway, but I put my arm in front of him. Even though my arm only came up to his midriff, he stopped. “What?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m in charge,” I said, suddenly proclaiming myself leader, “And I’m going to go in first.”

“It could be dangerous,” he half-jokingly warned.

“Exactly,” I said with an eye roll. “I have a pretty powerful pistol; you have a dwindling wit and the brightness of a retarded monkey.”

Cautiously, I approached the blood-stained house. Very quietly, I listened for any noise that would indicate any type of horde activity currently going on. Nothing.

I laid my hand on the doorknob, and gave a slow twist. It was unlocked. I cracked the door open with a creak and peered inside.