tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80390356734469185812024-03-12T16:28:52.571-07:00Siete De AwesomeSeven girls doing their part in the world of literature and writing...Ariannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10246407200237993141noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8039035673446918581.post-88321903628734285902013-03-04T21:24:00.001-08:002013-03-04T21:24:45.298-08:00Same Sad Tale<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
She hides and screams at those who listen<br />
The fire shines as her blue eyes glisten;<br />
Ever so slightly, but still silence the flames<br />
For if only her stormy waters could be so tame<br />
<br />
Edging to insanity, not finding the end<br />
Not finding a way to make, break, or mend<br />
What's been thrown on the dirt, forgotten and tread on,<br />
And no one seems to realize that it hasn't yet gone<br />
<br />
While you ignore it and find new adventure<br />
The same sad tale continues to bend her<br />
Until she's warped and twisted and so out of place<br />
You soon can not bring yourself to recognize her face<br />
<br />
You think you're healing her, telling her that she's not doomed<br />
But all you're really doing is throwing salt into the wound<br />
As she's hating the world for one little thing she's waiting for someone to say<br />
And as the hours grow on, she doesn't think she can take one more day<br />
<br />
The silence kills, the pain will take her down<br />
Unless everything she knows is turned around<br />
Her complaints fall to impaired ears<br />
As the wonder only amplifies her fears<br />
<br />
So she holds to what she has, the anger her fight<br />
There's only one way to the legend's light;<br />
To sort through all the hate,<br />
But she can no longer wait<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09597438574572390043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8039035673446918581.post-19094543151270174702012-11-04T14:02:00.000-08:002012-11-04T14:05:11.951-08:00Rap Battles- George Washington V.S. King George III<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
KG: Well if it isn't little Georgie in his dingy blue coat?<br />
I'm gonna show you how to fight, so you'd better take notes!<br />
<br />
GW: At least I can write, you illiterate prick<br />
You couldn't read 'til you were twelve 'cause your mind was sick!<br />
<br />
KG: You do realize that I'm the big K-G-3<br />
-And you're just some doofus who cut a cherry tree?<br />
<br />
GW: Big as in the size of your daft royal head?<br />
You think you're some war general, but all you've got in there is lead!<br />
<br />
KG: My war strategies are top notch- now you know that ain't no puzzle<br />
So shut your mouth 'homedog', before I get you a muzzle!<br />
<br />
GW: Your 'strategies' are lame, for as the Yankees would say,<br />
We can see those bright red coats from a mile away!<br />
<br />
KG: It doesn't matter if you can see the very whites of our eyes<br />
You could be staring right us, and we'd still take you by surprise.<br />
<br />
GW: Speaking 'bout surprises, what about your disease<br />
and how you think that you're dying every time that you sneeze<br />
Your illness makes you crazy- guess that's why you tell us lies<br />
Here's a straitjacket- why don't you try it on for size?<br />
<br />
KG: Oh, you foolish little Yank, you have an eye to observe<br />
But sit down at the table because you're about to be served!<br />
You Yankees gonna hate me 'cause I be taxing your tea<br />
But you've only got your 'country' through my family!<br />
<br />
GW: We don't care who paid for our land, and quite frankly,<br />
We've all come to these colonies just so we can be free.<br />
Your redcoats better watch it 'cause we're playing to win<br />
And your interference is like one giant sin!<br />
I can hardly hear ya' over your porphyria,<br />
And you think future rulers should mirror ya'?<br />
<br />
KG: So clever, my dear Patriot, but my wisdom still rings<br />
and these battles- rap and revolution- aren't over 'til the fat lady sings.<br />
<br />
GW: So Queen Charlotte will be joining us? Oh, what an occasion!<br />
Her vocals will easily be scarier than than your bloodyback invasion.<br />
<br />
KG: Your 'country's' freedom is sinking-<br />
<br />
GW: Ahh, that's just wishful thinking.<br />
You want to keep your precious colonies from merging into one.<br />
Well, good luck with that. Wake me up when we've won.<br />
<br />
----------------------------<br />
Who do you think won? And who should be in the next rap battle?</div>
Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09597438574572390043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8039035673446918581.post-54919275006695721842012-10-15T19:53:00.000-07:002012-10-15T19:53:23.862-07:00Arcadia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Since everyone wants new members and new posts, fine. I'll write something.<br />
----------------------<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
A small little boy with feathery brown hair</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
A bright golden heart but deep hurt in his stare</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Caught in the hands of evil with someone who should love</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
His mother's faulty 'wisdom' did not come from above</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
There was only one thing that could keep this quiet boy sane</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Despite, how in his mother's words, he was 'wasting his brain'</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Only one thing to keep the storm in his eyes tame</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
This innocent young boy had always loved to game</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The push of the smooth buttons with his nimble fingers</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It was here, when he was hurt, he would always linger</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The arcade was always there, holding together his life like tape</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And it was here that he would find a great escape</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
One day while pushing buttons during a heated sword fight</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The boy rose off the floor and was sucked into the light</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
His feet returned to the ground, but the floor was not the same</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It was earthy and green and pixelated- just like in the game</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
In his hand he held a sword, its blade posessing a brilliant gleam</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
He was strong-unlike anytime else in his life, it would seem</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But now the boy who cowered in the corner stood like a tall tower</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And in place of the raging storm, his big brown eyes now held power</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And so the boy ventured on his journey at the mercy of a game</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But his pixelated predators could not defeat the boy with the much chanted name</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It was an amazing escape for a boy trapped in despair</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Who now held triumph in his eyes to fill his empty state</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
--------------------</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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.</div>
</div>
Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09597438574572390043noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8039035673446918581.post-31772620294815046032012-10-14T19:54:00.002-07:002012-10-14T19:55:38.092-07:00New 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?<br />
<br />
~BSH<br />
<br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8039035673446918581.post-16855813546691988552012-09-23T10:34:00.000-07:002012-09-23T10:38:33.962-07:00Poem About My Mother.<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">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. </span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Feel free to critique it and tell me what I did wrong.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm particularly proud of this poem, and it's the first poem I've written that I'm proud of.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">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.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;">Mother</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">My life
without her<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">would be
tedious, mundane and bland.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">She’s a small
sweet cocoon<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">that shelters
me<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">from the wild,
the evil and the foul.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Her smile
glows like the radiant sun<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">that lights
up the earth.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I wish I can and
relive<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">all the precious
moments I spent with her<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">and I hope
they live eternally.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">She’s a
voluminous tree<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">that keeps me
shaded<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">from the wet
and stormy nights.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Her hugs are like
shields<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">that keep
away enemies.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Her eyes are flowing
rivers<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">of burnt
umber paint.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">She’s a never
ending basket of joy <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">that lifts my
spirits.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Her love is
immortal and vast<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">and stronger
than the force of gravity.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">-Rawan</span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16744372636597430439noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8039035673446918581.post-79050507492286287882012-09-04T14:25:00.003-07:002012-09-09T18:51:00.737-07:00Prologue 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:<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: small; line-height: 14px; margin-bottom: 10pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 17px;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Prologue</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: small; line-height: 14px; margin-bottom: 10pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 17px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> 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.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: small; line-height: 14px; margin-bottom: 10pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 17px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> 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.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: small; line-height: 14px; margin-bottom: 10pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 17px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> 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.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: small; line-height: 14px; margin-bottom: 10pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 17px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> 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.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: small; line-height: 14px; margin-bottom: 10pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 17px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> 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.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: small; line-height: 14px; margin-bottom: 10pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 17px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> The couple grabbed the black bundle before he even got to say hello. They were that excited, eh?</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: small; line-height: 14px; margin-bottom: 10pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 17px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> He murmured," Goodbye, Phoebe."</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: small; line-height: 14px; margin-bottom: 10pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 17px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> And that was that.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: small; line-height: 14px; margin-bottom: 10pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 17px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: small; line-height: 14px; margin-bottom: 10pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 17px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">_________________________________________________________________________________</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: small; line-height: 14px; margin-bottom: 10pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 17px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm proud of this prologue.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Comments are appreciated. Thank you for reading!!! </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: small; line-height: 14px; margin-bottom: 10pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 17px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8039035673446918581.post-14875196586808604162012-08-25T14:29:00.001-07:002012-08-25T14:29:22.363-07:00Time 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<br />
<br />~CarolynUnknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8039035673446918581.post-32599124358168045202012-07-11T12:43:00.001-07:002012-07-11T12:43:56.534-07:00ExecutionBind me up up so I cannot flee<br />
Before I'm flung into the sea<br />
So my hatred may be ever-soaked<br />
And I'll no longer be provoked<br />
<br />
The ocean waves find my faults<br />
Each gnashing their teeth of salt<br />
A hunger is born to tear my pale flesh<br />
And eat my soul while the anger's still fresh<br />
<br />
I wish to fly and close my eyes<br />
But I am weighted by the mass despise<br />
This bird with ripped wings is now held down<br />
And her heart of gold has turned to brown<br />
<br />
My captors are daring and fierce like the sea<br />
But only through the hatred they feel for me<br />
My time has come for damp eyes to turn wetter<br />
And I can't help but feel that I could have done better<br />
<br />
I'm pushed to the edge so I may taunt the sea<br />
One nice meal and not so much as a fee<br />
Before I know it, a hand shoves me behind<br />
And as I fall through the air, I say goodbye to my angry mind.Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09597438574572390043noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8039035673446918581.post-17946396024796685132012-07-03T19:47:00.000-07:002012-07-05T13:14:28.253-07:00Violent Haunt<span id="internal-source-marker_0.12883422854239845" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> 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.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> 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.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> 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.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> 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.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> 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.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><i>Good.</i>
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.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> 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. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> 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. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> 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. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">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 <i>me</i>.</span></div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09597438574572390043noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8039035673446918581.post-86378990098546804682012-05-05T10:53:00.001-07:002012-05-17T20:44:23.120-07:00Electrify- Chapter Three: My CompetitionChapter Three- My Competition<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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.<br />
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. <br />
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. <br />
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.<br />
<br />
"And that's your competition!" Lylac shrilled a little to excitedly, switching off the television. <br />
<br />
"Think about which tributes stood out to you. The ones you may have to look out for." Abel said.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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!<br />
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.Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09597438574572390043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8039035673446918581.post-50669015028449931252012-05-05T10:42:00.000-07:002012-05-05T10:54:39.223-07:00Electrify- Chapter Two: Visitors<div style="text-align: center;">
<u><b>Chapter Two- Visitors</b></u></div>
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
"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. <br />
<br />
"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? <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
"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.<br />
<br />
"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.<br />
<br />
"He and Mr. Cutler have had a few falling-outs lately. Neither one of them really have decent social skills."<br />
<br />
I expected her to defensively ease any harshness from the latter statement, but she did not. Good, so she wasn't a total pansy.<br />
<br />
"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.<br />
<br />
"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.<br />
<br />
"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."<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Dew holds something out to me. Something shiny and beautiful. "Here, I want you to take this."<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
"Will you wear it? As your district token?"<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
"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."<br />
<br />
"Electrify." I whisper. "I will."<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
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.Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09597438574572390043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8039035673446918581.post-42991946884547368552012-05-02T16:01:00.001-07:002012-05-02T16:02:13.743-07:00Electrify (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.<br />
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.<br />
<br />
"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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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. <br />
<br />
"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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09597438574572390043noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8039035673446918581.post-44068929359793011962012-04-03T17:28:00.000-07:002012-04-06T19:58:29.499-07:00A 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.<br />
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Advantage; font-size: 14pt;">Missing at the World's Fair<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Advantage; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Advantage;">By: Brusselsprout Head #12<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Advantage;"> "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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Advantage;"> 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.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Advantage;"> 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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Advantage;"> 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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Advantage;"> 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.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Advantage;"> Hope was beginning to fade and I was praying my sister would be alright. "<st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>! Over here!" <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Advantage;"> 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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Advantage;"> 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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Advantage;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Advantage;"> 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.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Advantage;"> 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." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Advantage;"> " I'm just so glad to see you, again." I said while releasing her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Advantage;"> "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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Advantage;"> 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.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Advantage;"> "Mm." My sister groaned. " This is absolutely wonderful! Here, Lizzie, try some." She handed me her ice cream. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Advantage;"> 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?" <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Advantage;"> "The ice cream cone." He said after a couple of second passed, clearly thinking about it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Advantage;"> "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.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Advantage;"> The End</span><span style="font-family: Advantage; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sorry if there is anything missing. </span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8039035673446918581.post-57574863349127122952012-04-01T19:46:00.002-07:002012-04-01T19:50:29.903-07:00The Elliot House<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TmyEp3lnA60/T3kT7kNbhPI/AAAAAAAAALQ/_8HumGzEuqs/s1600/elliothousepicnik.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 281px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TmyEp3lnA60/T3kT7kNbhPI/AAAAAAAAALQ/_8HumGzEuqs/s320/elliothousepicnik.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5726630315231511794" /></a><br />I do not own this picture. I edited it (obviously).<br />Original picture: <a href="http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/style_section/style_articles_house/a_french_twist_on_american_country_style/">Just to prove I'm not a thief.</a>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09597438574572390043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8039035673446918581.post-55530267909866613432012-03-31T14:01:00.005-07:002012-04-01T14:32:48.869-07:00Character Profile for Lilith Elliot<span style="font-weight: bold;">Identity</span><br />
Name: Lilith Elliot<br />
Age: About 13 3/4<br />
Date of Birth: 4/7/98<br />
Gender: Female<br />
Place of Birth: Irwin County Hospital, Ocilla, Georgia<br />
Race/Ethnicity/Species: Human, Caucasian<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Physical Description</span><br />
Height: 5'6<br />
Weight: Somewhere around 100<br />
Hair Color: Light brown, still relatively dark<br />
Hair Length: Long, maybe 7-8 past the shoulders<br />
Hairstyle: Straight, but has a hint of a wave to it<br />
Eye Color: Dark slate-blue, grayish<br />
General Body Description: Overall petite, just a bit short<br />
Typical clothing style: Darker, earthy colors<br />
Birthmarks: None<br />
Tattoos: None<br />
Scars: None (yet?)<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;">Education</span><br />
Education Level: 8th grade (second semester)<br />
Occupation: None<br />
Hobbies: Interested in unusual, paranormal things<br />
Languages & Dialects Spoken: English<br />
Talents/Skills: (Possibly yet to come) See 'Powers'<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;">Other</span><br />
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. <br />
Family: Mother-Lynne Elliot, Father- Jake Elliot, Sister (Fraternal twin)- Leila Elliot<br />
Significant Other(s): None<br />
Personality: Sweet, down-to-earth, tomboyish.<br />
Habits: None<br />
Likes: Paranormal things, things most girls her age may find unusual<br />
Dislikes: Girly things<br />
Dreams: None in particular<br />
Fears: None<br />
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.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;">Special</span><br />
Powers: Can see, communicate with paranormal as if she would with a normal person<br />
Traits: No exceptional traits<br />
Temperament: Not totally reticent, but more of an introvert than others, as she is not like everyone else she knows.Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09597438574572390043noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8039035673446918581.post-32132309995905722752012-03-23T20:36:00.003-07:002012-04-01T14:33:50.587-07:00Last BreathOkay, I'm going to feel some INTENSE emotions on Sunday, (*cough*nervousness) so I just have to write a poem.<br />
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<br />
When I close my eyes at night I think of you<br />
And all I want is you and your blue<br />
Eyes, reading my last thoughts<br />
...And I thought you ought<br />
<br />
My heart will speed like an antsy drum<br />
I hope you'll know where I'll be coming from<br />
While I tense up and my nervous fears are still left,<br />
Before it all falls, I'll take my last breath<br />
<br />
Of the life I had before, but now it's closing in<br />
But I couldn't take the 'what could have been'<br />
So to tell you the truth I really mean it<br />
There's no extinguisher, the fire is lit<br />
<br />
I never told you what I was thinking<br />
And now I see, for a year I've been sinking<br />
So I'll tell you, before I blow<br />
And maybe you'll tell me what I need to know<br />
<br />
As I take my last breath of the life I had before<br />
Then I'll be falling, now no one will ignore<br />
Me anymore...Because they know I'm waiting<br />
I'm still contemplating...<br />
<br />
But now you'll know what I've thought about you,<br />
Please help me understand...I hope you do<br />
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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?Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09597438574572390043noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8039035673446918581.post-51954202653961993672012-03-20T19:16:00.003-07:002012-03-23T13:47:17.713-07:00Good At HeartThe 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 <em>was</em> from the window, so I crawled a few inches under the desk.<br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />"You DON'T UNDERSTAND!" I began to sob, and she shook me even harder.<br /><br />"HE <em>KILLED</em> MILLIONS OF PEOPLE! YOU KNOW WHERE YOU CAME FROM? THE SAME PLACE HE'S GONE TO!"<br /><br />I tried to break away, but her grasp had no chance of weakening. "Bridgit!" I screamed.<br /><br />Her nails dug into my hands, taking the place of those carpet burns. "YOU SUPPORT EVIL ! YOU DESERVE TO GO DOWN WITH HIM!"<br /><br />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.<br /><br /><br />_____________________________________________________________________________________<br />"I still believe, in spite of everything, that people are really good at heart."<br />-Anne FrankLaurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09597438574572390043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8039035673446918581.post-20864214374892395952012-03-11T09:31:00.006-07:002012-03-11T09:39:43.193-07:00Malicious PosterI 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.<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xrm3n0me0QA/T1zUJqgA4tI/AAAAAAAAAK4/F5hlNowb2vI/s1600/malicious%2Bteaser2.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 174px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xrm3n0me0QA/T1zUJqgA4tI/AAAAAAAAAK4/F5hlNowb2vI/s320/malicious%2Bteaser2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5718678889346163410" /></a><br /><br />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.Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09597438574572390043noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8039035673446918581.post-6519103777175013852012-03-07T14:47:00.004-08:002012-03-07T15:01:50.095-08:00Complete Opposites<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">I should run away,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;">I should be afraid.</div><div style="text-align: center;">You're rumored to be a spy,</div><div style="text-align: center;">A master of pain.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Sit down beside me,</div><div style="text-align: center;">A smile as wide as the sea.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Purely enchanting,</div><div style="text-align: center;">The way you planned it to be.</div><div style="text-align: center;">This is a game,</div><div style="text-align: center;">Brutal to the end.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Playing with my mind,</div><div style="text-align: center;">Using your many manipulations.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Complete opposites, you and I</div><div style="text-align: center;">You soar, I fly.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I've got my morals down,</div><div style="text-align: center;">You let all yours drown.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Rejected by your father,</div><div style="text-align: center;">Mine attempted to make me better.</div><div style="text-align: center;">You're dangerous,</div><div style="text-align: center;">Malicious,</div><div style="text-align: center;">Hidden behind all your lies.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm open and friendly,</div><div style="text-align: center;">Pure truth in my eyes.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Somehow you've convinced me</div><div style="text-align: center;">To waltz this risky dance.</div><div style="text-align: center;">What you and I have</div><div style="text-align: center;">Is a deadly romance.</div>Ariannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10246407200237993141noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8039035673446918581.post-61460217091237978432012-03-01T12:29:00.000-08:002012-03-01T12:29:21.326-08:00Character Profile for Elizabeth Johnson<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Identity</b><i>Name: </i>Elizabeth Johanna Johnson, nickname Eliza<br /><i>Age: </i>12-almost 13<br /><i>Date of Birth: </i>June 17, 1999<br /><i>Gender: </i>Female<br /><i>Place of Birth: </i>{{Guessing you mean city here. XD}} Kansas City, Kansas<br /><i>Race/Ethnicity/Species: </i>American! XD<b></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Physical Description</b><i>Height: </i>5' 3"<br /><i>Weight: </i>90 pounds<br /><i>Hair Color: </i>Dark brown<br /><i>Hair Length: </i>Mid-back<br /><i>Hairstyle: </i>Usually up in some sort of way, usually a high ballet bun, but she loves French and fishtail braids.<br /><i>Eye Color: </i>Deep brown<br /><i>General Body Description: </i>Tall, slender, strong dancer legs. ;)<br /><i>Typical clothing style: </i>Tee-shirt and sweatpants or jeans, often wearing a sweatshirt. :)<br /><i>Birthmarks: </i>A small birthmark on her left ankle<br /><i>Tattoos: </i>N/A<br /><i>Scars: </i>N/A<b></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Education</b><br /><i>Education Level: </i>7th grade-current<br /><i>Occupation: </i>N/A<br /><i>Hobbies: </i>DANCE.DANCE.DANCE.DANCE.<br /><i>Languages & Dialects Spoken: </i>French :)<br /><i>Talents/Skills: </i>Dance</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Other</b><br /><i>Character History: </i>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<br /><i>Family: </i>Only child, mother and father. :)<br /><i>Significant Other(s): </i>NO! XD<br /><i>Personality: </i>Theatrical, shy at school, extremely outgoing at dance<br /><i>Habits: </i>She's always moving, always dancing. :)<br /><i>Likes: </i>Dance, summer, yellow, reading, language arts. :)<br /><i>Dislikes: </i>Math, cold weather.<br /><i>Dreams: </i>To be a professional dancer with East Coast Ballet<br /><i>Fears: </i>Injury and spiders</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i style="font-family: inherit;">Anything Especially Unique? </i><span style="font-family: inherit;">Not specifically . . .</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Powers: </i>N/A<br /><i>Traits: </i>Dancer, definitely a stage-girl {loves being on stage}.<br /><i>Temperament: </i>Can put up a fight for what she thinks is true, but usually a very simple temperament. :)</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 14px;"> This is for the main character in a story I am writing. Would you like me to post it on here? :D</span></span></div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8039035673446918581.post-10464242410792102702012-03-01T11:08:00.002-08:002012-03-01T15:48:47.829-08:00Stand Alone -2/?<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves/> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:donotpromoteqf/> <w:lidthemeother>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:lidthemeasian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:lidthemecomplexscript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> <w:splitpgbreakandparamark/> <w:dontvertaligncellwithsp/> <w:dontbreakconstrainedforcedtables/> <w:dontvertalignintxbx/> <w:word11kerningpairs/> <w:cachedcolbalance/> </w:Compatibility> 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Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">A week. A week was all it took for this “zombie” virus to bring down every major power, every government, and every <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">family</i>. 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. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">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?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; background:silver;mso-highlight:silver">Guess it turned out they weren’t such loons after all.</span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">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. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">December 28<sup>th</sup>, 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 style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">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></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">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. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">The noise of the venomous horde shattered the silence that had been comforting me.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; background:silver;mso-highlight:silver">Oh, crap. Well, I guess Murphy’s Law has it in for me. </span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">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.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">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.</span></p> <div style="mso-element:para-border-div;border:none;border-bottom:solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; background:silver;mso-highlight:silver">Making sure that my gun (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Your father’s gun</i>, I silently reminded myself) was secure in its holster, I took off running, tearing through the prairie like there was no tomorrow. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">With the horde growing as fast as it is, there probably is no tomorrow.</i></span></p> </div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">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. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">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 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">him</i>. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">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 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">too</i> 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. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">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.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">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.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">“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…</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">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.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">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; <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">right</i> 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. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Holy crap, this dude is annoying. </i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">“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 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">many</i> detentions.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">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.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">“A. Travel. Buddy!” Oh no, my temper was going off. “This is an apocalypse; the end of the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">world</i>! You treat it as though we are kindergarteners on a field trip! What is wrong with you?!” </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">“Nothing’s wrong with me, my lovely lady friend,” he said, half opening one eye to glance at me. “You simply take life <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">much </i>too seriously.” </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; background:silver;mso-highlight:silver">Lovely lady friend? What the heck is wrong with this guy?!</span></i><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver;mso-highlight:silver"> “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.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Au contraire</i>, I’ve been observing you for a while.” He waved his hand as though to say, ‘It’s no big deal’.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">This really ticked me off. “‘<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Observing’ me?! </i>Isn’t that called stalking?!”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">He put on a smile very similar to Flynn Rider’s ‘smolder’. “Observing and stalking are two <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">very</i> different things. Stalking is for creeps; observing is for people who simply want to know more about you.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">“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.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">“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.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">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?”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">“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.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">“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.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">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.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">“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.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">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. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Great, just what I need. I hate working with people.</i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">“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 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">much</i> too easy to run into the horde.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">“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. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Crap, that was suppose to offend you, you idiot. </i>I hated amusing people.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">“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. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">Unfortunately, it worked about just as well as the previous statement. Actually, it worked worse, way worse. He <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">laughed</i>. “You’re really funny, you know,” he complimented with a smile. </span></p> <div style="mso-element:para-border-div;border:none;border-bottom:solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; background:silver;mso-highlight:silver">“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:<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>it didn’t work.</span></p> </div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">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.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">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. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">“Xavier and- wait, what’s your name?” Apparently his name was Xavier. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Weirdo.</i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">“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… <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Great, now <u>I</u> sound like the idiot.</i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">“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. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">I rolled my eyes. “Have you watched ‘House Hunters’ or something?”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">He grinned. “Well, now I know you have.”</span></p> <div style="mso-element:para-border-div;border:none;border-bottom:solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; background:silver;mso-highlight:silver">I punched him in the arm. “My mom watched it, okay? I sometimes sat and watched it with her, but not all that often.”</span></p> </div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">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.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">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. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">What lovely prospects.</i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">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.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">“I’m in charge,” I said, suddenly proclaiming myself leader, “And I’m going to go in first.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">“It could be dangerous,” he half-jokingly warned.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">“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.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">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.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.15in"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";background:silver; mso-highlight:silver">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.</span><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif""></span></p><span style="line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-ansi-language: EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-US;mso-bidi-language:AR-SAfont-family:Calibri;font-size:12.0pt;" ></span>Ariannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10246407200237993141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8039035673446918581.post-36220536799393731322012-02-29T17:19:00.003-08:002012-02-29T19:54:25.111-08:00How I'd LiveThe raindrops would fall and I could feel the sweet cold glass<br />But it wouldn't be all I had, though to get this, I'd be the last<br />I'd have those eyes, that sweet smile, I'd no longer have to grope<br />But I feel that day will never come, and for tomorrow I'm losing hope<br /><br />Oh I'd dance around with my smile so bright, my eyes shining like the Sun<br />My worries would fly away to the sky, and I'd ignore everyone<br />Oh how I'd live if I could fly, and soar for miles and miles...<br />But today I lack love, and you wonder why this sad girl never smiles<br /><br />Next fall I'll work my way through the fight,<br />Battle nosy high schoolers every day and night<br />I can be kicked by teasing until I go insane<br />But just waiting curious in silence gives the worst pain<br /><br />Does he? He doesn't? I always assume not<br />But what is the true answer I have always sought?<br />Since the end of last April, I've pondered this thought<br />Could that sweet trumpet player like me or not?Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09597438574572390043noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8039035673446918581.post-56184901772000544072012-02-29T14:36:00.001-08:002012-02-29T14:40:18.301-08:00Stand Alone CoverHere' s a cover I made for my story, "Stand Alone". What do you think?<br /><br /><a href="http://tinypic.com/?ref=2lc8nlh" target="_blank"><img src="http://i43.tinypic.com/2lc8nlh.jpg" alt="Image and video hosting by TinyPic" border="0" /></a>Ariannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10246407200237993141noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8039035673446918581.post-71820486740953832082012-02-28T16:53:00.001-08:002012-02-28T16:55:06.538-08:00Character TemplateHere's a simple template you can use to build your characters:<br /><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves/> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:donotpromoteqf/> <w:lidthemeother>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:lidthemeasian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:lidthemecomplexscript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> <w:splitpgbreakandparamark/> <w:dontvertaligncellwithsp/> <w:dontbreakconstrainedforcedtables/> <w:dontvertalignintxbx/> <w:word11kerningpairs/> <w:cachedcolbalance/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathpr> <m:mathfont val="Cambria Math"> <m:brkbin val="before"> <m:brkbinsub val="--"> <m:smallfrac val="off"> <m:dispdef/> <m:lmargin val="0"> <m:rmargin val="0"> <m:defjc val="centerGroup"> <m:wrapindent val="1440"> <m:intlim val="subSup"> <m:narylim val="undOvr"> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif][if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" defunhidewhenused="true" defsemihidden="true" defqformat="false" defpriority="99" latentstylecount="267"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="0" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Normal"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="9" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" 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semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="19" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Subtle Emphasis"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="21" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Intense Emphasis"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="31" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Subtle Reference"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="32" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Intense Reference"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="33" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Book Title"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="37" name="Bibliography"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" qformat="true" name="TOC Heading"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif][if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif][if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:shapedefaults ext="edit" spidmax="1026"> </xml><![endif][if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:shapelayout ext="edit"> <o:idmap ext="edit" data="1"> </o:shapelayout></xml><![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:1"><b><span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning:18.0pt">Identity<br /></span></b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"">Name:<br />Age:<br />Date of Birth:<br />Gender:<br />Place of Birth:<br />Race/Ethnicity/Species:</span></i><b><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-font-kerning: 18.0pt"></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:1"><b><span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning:18.0pt">Physical Description<br /></span></b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"">Height:<br />Weight:<br />Hair Color:<br />Hair Length:<br />Hairstyle:<br />Eye Color:<br />General Body Description:<br />Typical clothing style:<br />Birthmarks:<br />Tattoos:<br />Scars:</span></i><b><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-font-kerning:18.0pt"></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:1"><b><span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning:18.0pt">Education</span></b><span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman""><br /><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Education Level:<br />Occupation:<br />Hobbies:<br />Languages & Dialects Spoken:<br />Talents/Skills:</i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:12.0pt;line-height:normal"><b><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-font-kerning:18.0pt">Other</span></b><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman""><br /><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Character History:<br />Family:<br />Significant Other(s):<br />Personality:<br />Habits:<br />Likes:<br />Dislikes:<br />Dreams:<br />Fears:<br />Anything Especially Unique?</i></span></p> <b><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-font-kerning:18.0pt;mso-ansi-language: EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-US;mso-bidi-language:AR-SA">Special</span></b><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language: EN-US;mso-bidi-language:AR-SA"><br /><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Powers:<br />Traits:<br />Temperament:</i> </span>Ariannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10246407200237993141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8039035673446918581.post-22340260769816653382012-02-28T16:42:00.003-08:002012-02-29T12:36:00.718-08:00Falling BackThe wind filed through every blade of grass with a series of soft rustles, each creeping closer to Aly's delicate ears. But not even the cheery bright green sea could whisk away her ocean of sadness. A flood had been born, but no one ever knew. There was a makeshift dam keeping the emotions inside, but soon would surely break. This makeshift obstacle was constructed of only strong cardboard, which leaked little tear drops now and then. But would anyone ever know the full maximum of Aly's sadness? It was the fear she lived in- knowing no one could ever evaluate of fathom the truth.<br />Aly kicked the rubble and toe-splitting rocks, now faced with a giant red and white fence. The fence blocked off a forest, warning her not to trespass. Lord knew why somebody would cut throats over a giant block of trees and a field of those tall, wheat-like plants Aly did not know the name of. However, this place had always been special to her. It wasn't a quiet thinking place or a place for investing sweet emotions into frivolous poetry. Oh no, it was much more than that. It had a cherished ominous feel that gave it a heartwarming personality. Aly had a thing for onimous, no matter how odd it may have seem. Suddenly, her stomach began to twist violently.<br />For one partial of a second, or seemingly one short eternity, a blurry face passed through Aly's mind as she eyed the field. <em>Katrina</em>. Could it be? Aly longed to sneak closer and run into the forest. The longer she thought, the more sick she felt. It had to be true. Katrina had been gone for a week. It was all clicking into place- where else could she be? She certainly had been taken.<br />It was then that Aly realized even more horror to it all. Maybe if Katrina hadn't been a medium, just maybe, she wouldn't have been gone. They had seen someone in the field the months leading up to her disappearance. Unpleasant things had happened. There were warnings, nightmares, faces, signs. If she hadn't communicated with the latter existence, where would she be today? It was physically easy, yet emotionally and mentally difficult to answer that.<br />In one motion, Aly pulled down the unstable fence and stepped into the woods. She ran into the field and was met with the predicted sight. Katrina laid with her eyes open, the rest of the details too grim to relay. It was all over now. Crystal had come. To know that the paranormal possessed such brutal homicidal abilities was too much for Aly to take. Suddenly, it all began to crash down.<br />Her best friend gone. No one left to understand her. Bullying. A frightening grade drop. Hurt. Anger. Misunderstanding. Hate. The fear of knowing she could be killed. But this time Aly did not cry. She did not know how to express such a blend of sadness and shock. All guns were now pointed at her. This was it. She returned back to the fallen gate, her back to the forest. She closed her eyes and stood still. A dash of darkness began to form in the air behind her. The darkness accumulated more bits of darkness and soon created a large portal-like hole.<br />Images of Aly's fears, nightmares, frightening figments of her imagination, and Crystal teemed inside of the hole, waiting for her. There was only one thing left to do. Aly had to give in to her fears. She had to give up and let the darkness carry her wherever she could go. Aly slowly leaned back and fell into the hole, engulfed by the darkness. Aly opened her eyes, and for a few seconds only saw darkness. Suddenly, a white light more brilliant and bright than the green grass shone all around her. She caught sight of Katrina's smiling face. She was okay. Everything from now and forever would be right. She was in a better place, away from her fears, her hurt, and her lonliness. Here, and here only, was where she needed to be.Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09597438574572390043noreply@blogger.com2