December 23, 2011
At this point, they came to the top of
the hill and Audrey caught sight of Seth on the other side, directing a young
boy to take his horse back to the stables. The prince looked up and caught
sight of Audrey. She froze under his gaze. There he was. Seth of Colonia; her
future husband. He was no longer just Seth of Colonia; her friend. This was
much more awkward than Audrey had anticipated. She had expected nervous
feelings, anger, rejection, practically anything, but not what she felt right
As she walked down the hill, she tried
to observe him and calm her feelings. He was still too far away for her to see
his expressions, but he was clearly looking at her. What was he thinking? Was
he upset that she had come? Was he feeling as awkward as she was right now? As
Audrey came closer to him, she took in details that she never fully noticed
before. His hair was black, like his sisters’, but it was completely straight.
She couldn’t tell whether he was pale or tan; he seemed to be strangely both.
He had grown taller since the last time she had seen him. Had those muscles
always been there? It surprised Audrey how much she hadn’t noticed about his
appearance. She finally came to a stop in front of him. After an awkward moment
of hesitation, she curtsied low to the ground. “My lord,” she said. Her voice was
He brought her to a standing position
with his hand on hers. “My lady,” he returned, inclining his head to her. She
noticed his face was full of emotions, but none of them were fathomable to her.
Golden Sun snorted. “Oh. This is for
you,” Audrey said, thrusting the bridle into Seth’s hand. “His name is Golden
Seth stared at the bridle in his hand.
“Thank you.” Why did this seem so awkward? They had gotten along alright before
the engagement. Audrey stared up at the balcony and immediately looked away.
The King, Queen, and princesses were all watching the scene intently. After a
few moments, Seth cleared his throat. “Would you like to go for a ride?”
Reguardless, the average teen does it once or twice a day
Like mice, they multiply after hugging with no clothes
These horny bastards are nothing but slutty hoe's.
The gift that keeps on giving is a baby, my lovely dear!
This could have been avoided if you hadn't touched his gears.
Maybe, if only you had worn a glove,
You wouldn't be a mommy! Give no love!
Keep in mind, my horny teenage group,
Screwing with no pertection will throw you for a loop.
The girst that keeps on giving is your ability to mate
So cross those legs, go to church, pray for forgivness and wait!
Lily got home after a tough day at work only to find something evn harder to deal with... her fathers will. He died, very young for these times, but he passed on his many fortunes, already attained and earned, onto his only child, Lily.
she had been somewhat excited to see what her father hadn't shared with her, but then she discovered that she inheritated a secret spy and ninja agency.
What the hell? Lily thought. she had alwas known that her father was a ninja of course, but a secret spy and ninja agency?!
Lily thought of her fathers dangerous life, and remembered all the times in the past when she'd been threatened and kidnapped... now being a mother herself, she couldn't bear to think of her own chikldren in that type of danger. ninja enemies would surely go after her children, especially being a leader like she now was.
She needed to rid herself of this agency right away. there was only so much time left...
On the other side of the room was a larger machine that resembled a human torso without any arms. The head of the machine was a metal sphere with single red lens, much like the eyes of the machines. The large torso attached to the floor of the room and had mechanical tentacles attached to where the torso and the floor met. On the side of the Machine was the word; CHARLOTTE.
“Another draw.” Charlotte said in a monotone female representation of a human voice.
“Perhaps we shouldn’t play chess, seeing how neither of us can win.” Said Jameson in a more expressive voice than Charlotte.
“Perhaps…” Charlotte responded.
“You do not seem to be angry today. Did the resistance not survive the journey through Las Vegas?”
“No, they survived. Just as I had intended.”
“Don’t you wish for their termination?” Jameson asked in confusion as he reset the board.
“I shall destroy them in time.” Charlotte said as her and Jameson began to play a game in super fast motion. “In order for me to be able to successfully destroy the resistance, I must first set the trap and then wait for the opportune moment to activate it.” Charlotte continued to say as she place a queen two spaces in front of Jameson’s King.
“Let’s just hope that the resistance can find a way to escape when the time comes.” Jameson said as he placed a rook between his king and Charlotte’s queen.
The two machines continued to play for another minute until only two kings and two queens remained.
“Another draw.” Jameson said.
“Not quite.” Charlotte said as she killed Jameson’s king with his own queen. “And that his how I will defeat the resistance.”
“Charlotte that is against the rules; you can’t kill me with my own ally.”
Big and floppy
Sucking, bouncing, squeezing
I love the way they move around
Eyes drooping, mind blanking.
I wish I could just go to sleepppp.
Twas the first night of Hanukkah
and all through the night
There were rats in the apartment
They were a terrible sight
The candles were lit and the prayers had been said
Other than the lights the room had seemed dead
The gifts had been opened, unwrapped with ease
Enjoying their presents, the children were pleased
As the candles extinguished, the lights did wane
For the next seven nights, they would be lit again
Brown and log-like
Pushing, plopping, smelling
It hurts my butt hole while it leaves
Hi guys! Here's a cute little poem I wrote about my favorite little treat. I hope you guys like it. I'm concerned about my line with 8 syllables. Any suggestions on how to imporove it? Does it really make you love poop? I hope so. Happy holidays, everyone. Let there be peace on Earth.
Not only had I watched people as they lost there minds but there very soul snatched from them without their knowledge.
With no hope for better, the fifty/fifty chance of success weakened and lessened.
He who sits there in the darkness, alone but not quite, the only light from a screen he controls with the simple swivel of is thumbs.
His only company, little whispers in his ear, locked to the screen valuing a non value life more than his own.
Sitting, sitting, sitting, and bathing in the stench of his odor built by days.
She who is so, so young, at fourteen only wants love, a man who sees her only weakness, swoops down only bringing darkness.
She mistakes that darkness for the light, finally fulfilling that need for love; he takes her innocents but never used a glove.
Thinking about present satisfactions and not the consequences of her actions, now she’s late and he turns his back on her.
Days go by and her belly gets big, used up and infected with his kid.
Another who wakes up every day, his itch is to over whelming.
The same first and only thought rushes to his head, how, how, how can I get high today? How can I get my fix?
For killing brain cells is his only defense, dealing with the life that has been handed to him.
No longer able to tell the difference between his hallucinations and his reality, violence is no longer below the once gentle and kind guy, for he is lost in the reality of his hallucinations.
Youngins brought into this corrupt, miserable place only seeking guidance, but the world’s good words only hide in silence.
So the world’s polluted ways seeks them and graze upon their easily programmable minds.
Fourteen, thirteen, and twelve going back all being pushed to start their own paths.
Now knowing there growing up bad.
Lost and doomed to so many distractions, no surprise when they all end up mad and have addictions.
Those who sell their souls for security and the material possessions that most could only dream.
The fame, money and consistent joy of hearing there name, writing and singing us there songs of satanic lyrics loud enough so we can all hear it.
They who think to control the media is to control the public.
Using symbolism and subliminal messages to program mankind, for we are there product.
Invading our subconscious minds, to use us for their satanic worship, keeping knowledge and cures out of our reach.
Technology we wouldn’t believe, they look at us as less evolved letting us suffer of poverty sickness and diseases.
Waiting for the population to decrease, waiting to make their move and begin The New World Order.
Preparing to take the human rights and instinct of our next’s generation.
Everyone being so happy and full of cheer
Holiday songs being played everywhere you go so you can hear it
Family coming to your home from far or near
Eating the Turkey, Ham, or Roast Beast
Hanging up your Christmas stocking
After finishing the delious feast
Ring up the lights on the awning
You go to bed just to wake up
While Mom and Dad wait for you
They're drinking Folders' coffee in a cup
And celebrating the holiday with you and showing you what love and caring is too :)
They don’t listen they don’t talk, electronics blocking them from the real world.
Where is the world coming to, is electronic our only way to life? Will robots become our slaves until they start to fight?
How long will it take them to look up? To pull out there headphones and see the real light?
Will that day come? I think not they are too lost in the games of Play station and Nintendo.
Hatred and love to all the technology will you still love it when it breaks your life apart?
How can you forget the ones around you, the ones you simple use to adore.
“I’m fine.” You say as if you understand with that phone in your hand that’s the only thing you have, no family, no job, no one to care.
You try to argue with the entire social networks, but you can’t give hugs on social networks, you can’t show love the way it should be shown, so give it up man, put down the phone.
Paying $60-$90 a month on their phone not realizing they can just say a simple hello.
Or a simple letter to get connected to your love ones far away, it’s cheaper and shows how much more you care.
Does no one realize the danger of these phones all the pain and sometimes cancers it can cause?
What about headphones in IPods playing on blast will you still want people to do that when you become deaf from that?
Technology is like a drug that you’re addicted too, no matter how much you try you can’t get away from it.
You try to run you try to hide but you can’t get that Facebook off your mind.
Looky here a new cell phone, people wait for hours even day
to be first in line to get the phone of a new generation when there old one works just fine.
How many purpose do you expect a phone to have? To talk and text and maybe Tetris.
No that won't be enough for your pathetic way you have to have Skype, internet, and even more games.
They sit on their butt on their little electronics, people ask what they are doing and they always say "Nothing."
You may try to stop but it won't be long until you're back on that stuff.
December 22, 2011
December 21, 2011
This is an excerpt from one of my stories. I'm looking for advice on how I can make this better and what doesn't need to be there.
The young woman looked around what appeared to be the main room of the building. She looked at the other people who had shown up. Each one had a different marking on them. One of the women had a dragon marking caressing her neck. As she looked around she saw a man with a tiger paw print on his cheek. There were several people around him that had the same marking. She didn’t see anyone with a spider web around one of their eyes.
“Draconia? You have a spider web as well?”
The young woman paused and turned to face her friend. She blinked when she saw that her friend had a spider web around one of her eyes. Draconia smiled and nodded. She paused then said, “Ricov, do you know what’s going on?”
Ricov shrugged and said, “Not really. I suspect they’ll tell us when they want to.”
“They?” Draconia asked raising an eyebrow, “You’ve seen them?”
“No. I assume that it’s a group of people because well how could a single person organize this?” Ricov said shrugging with her typical smile. Draconia closed her eyes and laughed. She waited a minute before she said, “Do you even know what this is?”
Draconia sighed and shook her head. She was less than enthused about this. They had all received a letter three weeks ago stating there would be a tournament on this day. When they had gotten there something strange had happened when they entered that room. Each person had a marking appear somewhere on their face or neck. She was about to speak to Ricov when a loud voice boomed out in the room from an unknown source.
“As you all may realize each one of you has a marking somewhere on you and that there are several others with similar markings. Those of you that have the same marking are now a team.”
“You can still read minds right Ricov?”
“Yes. Why do you ask?”
“Read mine right now.”
There was a moment of brief silence before Ricov gasped and smacked Draconia lightly across the head.
“You brat,” she said with a mock pout on her face. Draconia smirked then laughed.
“You know it.”
Their brief moment of fun was cut short by the voice booming out again.
“In a moment each group will go through the doors you see on the left side of the room. The rules of this tournament are simple. Rule One: You may only use what 'gifts' you may have. If you do not have any 'gifts' then you may only use what you have on your person. Rule Two: You may kill your opponents if you so choose. Rule Three: If you kill your team mates you will be disqualified and you will be dealt with accordingly. Anyone who fails to comply with these rules will be kicked out and forbidden to ever participate again.”
December 19, 2011
When Birds Fly
David’s eyes opened to a large clear field, filled with only grass and rocks. He was baffled, but as David sat up he had to momentarily forget his confusion and resorted to holding his head. Just in case it decided to explode, like it felt it might.
“Ack,” he moaned, it was like his brain was trying to escape from his cranium but something was keeping it in. He didn’t like it.
He heard a slight pitter patter of wings and then, “You probably feel horrible, but don’t worry, that’s normal.” David took a moment to spread his fingers and see what was in front of him. It turned out to be a small pigeon perched in the grass by his feet. It had big black glistening eyes and blue-tipped feathers that were rather odd for a pigeon to have. “David, stay calm and look at me; try to blink away the fuzzes.”
He moaned again, “The what?”
“The fuzzes, it’s the term we use for humans who had just travelled into our world.”
“Travelled into what?” His headache was starting to evaporate. The pigeon was starting to come into focus and questions were finally surfacing in his head, “Who are you?”
“My name is Jeffery.”
“Jeffery?” David asked.
“Yes, how may I help you?” The pigeon turned its head to the side and looked at him quizzically.
“What is going on here?”
“Oh that’s easy,” The pigeon seemed happy, it ruffled up his feathers and jumped into the air hovering by David’s head. “I merely transported you from your world into mine.”
“You did what, how?”
“Well, only the Bird Keeper is supposed to know how to transfer a human, but I figured it out,” it flew around David’s head elliptically making him feel dizzy. “And now you’re here, and now you can help us!” It let out a shrill chirp and landed on his head.
“But what is here?”
“I transported you from your world Earth, into mine Chirp.”
“Yes,” It pecked his forehead.
“Ouch! What’d you do that for?” He swatted the bird off his hair and started rubbing his head.
“That’s how we say hello to humans,” It settled back onto the grass. “Don’t you enjoy it?”
“Well no, no I don’t,” David was still rubbing his head tenderly. “So why do you need my help?”
“Well, the Bird Keeper has been rather uppity lately. Oh but don’t tell him I said that! But well, he’s been going through his human workforce rather violently lately. Making him having to keep transporting more and more humans. We need to show him that he has to take care of his slaves if he wants to keep them.”
“You use humans as slaves!”
“Well, yes, and it used to be rather enjoyable, for both parties. But well, now that the Bird Keeper is in power, no one’s been happy.” It started pecking at its armpit feathers like David had seen many birds do. “See, a while back Birds used to dictate the humans like friends rather than slaves. The humans did the work the birds couldn’t, and the birds did likewise. But then it all went downward once the Bird Keeper came into power.”
“What’d he do?”
“He started to force humans to do harder and harder jobs. Things that would drive them past their limit and he would hardly feed them. They started dying rapidly, but instead of saving them he just went and retrieved more.”
December 16, 2011
I now stood before the pyramid, it was no longer planet sized, but it did seem to touch the heavens. The tip of the pyramid gave off a gleaming blue light the color of sapphires that gave the base of the pyramid the effect of being illuminated by a distant blue star. At the base, before the 10,000 steps to the top there is a market filled with people. I stand now in the middle of the crowd looking up the pyramid, the sound of water flowing could be heard in the distance. My body is still composed of light, and the people around me look through me as if I’m not there. I walk through the crowd of people, and notice a pool stretched out before the pyramid’s steps, filled by water that flowed from the blue light. The water trickled down the pyramid’s sides and fell into a stream that flowed around the pyramid and underneath it. The first steps to the top were a bridge built over the stream of water around the pyramid. There were two sets of steps one on either side of the narrow canal that flowed into the pool from around the pyramid. I feel compelled to take the left bridge. As I take my first step onto the left bridge everything changes. The blue light at the top is now glowing blood red, and the sky that was once clear was now filled with grey thundering clouds. The water flowing from the light had turned to blood, I look behind me at the pool of blood and everyone around it is dead. I can hear their souls whispering in a mysterious language. I walk onward toward the top, and hear the echoing sound of a child laughing playfully behind me. I turn around and see a little girl feasting on one of the dead bodies. She looks up at me with glowing red eyes and her face covered in blood, then stands up and skips away. Her body dissolves into dust and disappears in the wind. I continue my journey to the top, I will surely never forget this moment.
After hours of walking I reach the top and step into the blood red light. The world changes again. I’m standing in a large room made of stone. The blood red light is behind me, it resembles a glowing scar in the fabric of reality. In front of me there are more steps that lead to a platform. On the platform is a throne. A man wearing hooded black robes sits on the throne, the hood casts a shade over his face, but two glowing red eyes pierce through the dark shroud. I can hear wind as I walk up the stairs to the throne, even though there are no openings to the outside world, and no wind blows in the air tight room. Shadows fly through the air, not confined to walls. No light can be seen, but the room is well lit.
At long last I stand before the black Buddha. The room shakes as the black Buddha stands. He holds his hands to the ceiling. “Fate is at hand my child.” His thundering voice fills the room, and the air gives off a low hum. I’m speechless. Awe and vengeance cloud my mind. “You need not speak, child. I have the knowledge you seek, the appointed hour has come. Your destiny shall be fulfilled.” “What destiny?” I asked. “Ah, yes, the grand question. In time you shall know, dear child, but first there are formalities that must be observed when meeting your inner demon face to face.” “What?” I asked. “It is I that has guided you along this path. I was there in your past life. I spoke to you in dreams, and influenced your thoughts. I am as much a part of your life as you are.” “I don’t understand.” I said. “Of course you do, you just don’t know it. That part of you has not been unlocked yet.” “Unlocked?” I asked. “Yes, the formalities. Please relax, this might hurt a bit.” The black Buddha said, and he took off his hood. He looked exactly the same as me, apart from the glowing red eyes. He took my face in his hands and stared intensely into my eyes. I felt as if a red hot sword was being slowly pushed into my forehead, and images of my past lives flooded my vision. I feel like my head is being ripped in half.
I remember my first human life. I was born into a ninja clan. I remember a childhood filled with hate. I killed just to eat. I spent a large portion of my life meditating and I learned kung fu in the astral plane. I traveled the seven hells and made demons my slaves using black magic. I stole their power with ancient mantras. I was the strongest of my clan. I became the master and waged war with the other clans until I controlled them all. I forged forth an empire of darkness. I killed off world leaders and replaced them with members of my clan. I made them look like the leaders I killed with the demonic powers I stole. It was, and still is, an empire of shadow and secrecy, and I was its master; its emperor. I fed on the hopes and dreams of my subjects; their very life force. I did this to sate the hunger, and sustain my demonic power. The more my empire expanded, the more powerful I became. But in the end I was killed, poisoned by one of my own clan.
My life is a painting
My emotions the paint
My soul is the paintbrush
I create my own fate
You say it's immoral
You tell me it's wrong
But I just won't listen
I sing my own song
I'm sorry you don't know
You don't understand
This is my life now
I'm not yours to command
So sit in your seat there
Pretend that I'm near
But know I've moved on now
There's no need to fear
This was our writing exercise a few days ago. It had to start with "It was a dark and stormy night," and end with either "Twas a lovely picnic." or "Monkeys!" You'll see which one I chose. Feedback, please!It was a dark and stormy night. Priscilla was combing her fluroescent white hair in the few beams of moonlight that managed to shine through the red velvet curtains over picture windows across the room."Hmm." She said, pursing her lips that shone like blood. "What cliche weather we're having, considering I'm going to murder my husband in about ten minutes...." She chuckled to herself just as a man with dark, slicked-back hair to match his pencil mustache entered the room. His beady black eyes held no emotion as he spoke to his wife."Priscilla, darling, are you quite ready to depart? We wouldn't want to be late for the Hornby's souiree." His voice drawled in a way that suggested wealth. Priscilla had always loathed that."Coming, dear." She said. "I'll meet in the parlor in just a moment." She parted her ruby lips to reveal perfectly straight, white teeth. It could have been a smile. Or a sneer.The slimy man turned on his bony heels and strode out of the room. The second he was out of sight Priscilla's emerald eyes darkened and she deftly grabbed a jewelry box off the shelf. It creaked as she began to lift the jewel-encrusted lid. The hilt of the dagger was barely visible in the dim light of the fireplace. This knife was one of her oldest companions. She had used it to kill her first husband, her second husband, her mother... Her third husband's death had actually been an accident. He fell off of a fourth floor balcony while Priscilla chased him with the knife. She laughed at the memories of such good times and raised the lid all the way. She stared down at the black silk in the box and saw that the glint of light she thought was the knife's handle was actually a cymbal clutched in furry brown hands. A gasp escaped her lungs. She never thought she would see this again. The onyx eyes that seemed to glow with Hell's fire... She placed a hand over her cold heart and whispered, "Monkeys!"
maybe it was from being alone, or it could be from my lack of a home.
i was inside my head, until i lost it
but now its dead, and...
i didnt finish this. it blows anyways haha
Cecelea had seen one of the Weasley twins getting uncomfortable in his seat as her green eyes grazed the hall quickly. Her eyes narrowed seeing at how Umbridge was trying to stare him down. What a joke. Cecelea thought as her pale fingers tangled into her black hair while she stood up, making herself look as odd as possible. Her feet almost floated above the ground, walking until she was next to the chair that had been cursed to hold the buttocks of the pink toad.
"Professor," She began her statement, waiting for the pink woman to turn to face the muggle-born. Seeing as though she would not get this, the smile that she forced on her lips disappeared as both of her hands dropped back down to her sides, tilting her head to the side. "I hope you know that it is much more respectful to look at a person when they speak with you." Her distraction of the woman did not help as the Great Hall noticed the Weasley twins leaving the hall.
That is when the old woman finally looked. "Yes?" That ridiculous smile that held up the wrinkles on her face made a sneer come out of Cecelea's lips after sending a ‘hem hem’ in their direction.
The muggle-born leaned down slightly, making sure she did not hold one ounce of kindness on her face as she rested two inches away from the woman's distorted face. Whether it was because Cecelea was closer to the woman, or that it was normally distorted, at that moment, it didn't matter. "I hope you know I take extra care of my students unlike you." Her green eyes bore into the woman's, in all honesty; she was surprised to see Umbridge's eyes weren’t pink. Her pale hand rested on the arm-rest closest to the pink toad as her eyes narrowed. "And believe me, I am not one you want to piss off."
Without waiting for any response, Cecelea leaned back, returning her face to the kind smile she forced onto it, and brought herself around the table this time, and down the hall.
Little did she know students, among a few Professors, had watched her leave out of the Great Hall doors that the Weasleys did. As she exited, she looked around the halls, turning the corner until she found Peeves the ghost. "Little muggle-born on the rise, I see you have planned the toad's demise." Peeves sang aloud as the muggle-born looked up to the ghost, only rolling her eyes at him.
This post was a reply to something on my roleplay site. Cecelea is my original character that I created back in 2007. The background to this post is that Fred Weasley was having a 'glaring contest' with Umbridge from Harry's fifth year at Hogwarts.
Every day I get up
Smelling the same as the night before
But I don’t think
you were ever there to see
me fall asleep on the couch next to nobody
That’s what I get
For spending time with a nobody
God help me
Hold myself up again
Bother to call me
I don’t see
How you can even look in the mirror
After ,leaving, me cold like that
Lying on my face flat
Work falls into time
Time falls into the past
When summer comes
I hope to god it’ll last
Eighteen years for this
Eighteen years to show just what I mean
When I say “don’t ever” done ever
I just don’t get how ungrateful
You get, when you get, what you get
I don’t get it, and I guess I never will
Then she looked down at him, and the world seemed to slow down. She dragged his body outside and threw him into a hole in the ground. He had been planning to build a gazebo there, but she supposed that would not be happening now. She shovels dirt on top of him and then goes inside to get a towel, and an apple. Carefully, she lays down the towel on his makeshift grave. She sits down, bites into the apple and looks up into the rain. Twas a lovely picnic.
Maybe I should start from the beginning... it all began when my mother and father met in new york city, both attracked to each other instantly, both knowing themselves enough to know that nothing could come from the attraction. But it's not like that stopped them... and look at the mess we have now.
This is my fifth writing exercise and it started off when I couldn't think of anything to write about, and it just kind of turned into this. Did you like it? Did it make you want to continue reading? Any suggestions?
p.s. happy birthday to my main ginger, Heather Archambault!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
"I hadn't eaten that stapler," Jon said as he sat in a hospital bed. "I was just so hungry, I couldn't help myself!" His parents and various doctors stared at him in confusion. "So of all the things you could've eaten," his dad said, "you chose a stapler." Jon began to cry tears of shame disappointing his Jewish father. He had made the terrible mistake of eating a stapler and now the stapler had come apart inside of his body and little staples were traveling throughout his body. The doctors had already performed a number of procedures but nothing seemed to work. This might be the end, Jon thought to himself. Just then, a young kitten hopped up beside him. "Hey, little guy," Manheim whispered to his new feline friend. Jon saw a glimmer of hope in its eyes. He could tell that this kitten would save his life. So, he did what anybody else would have done in this situation... he ate the cat. It went down a lot smoother than expected. The kitten began cleaning Jon's insides. Besides for pooping out staples for a month and periodically meowing, eating the kitten worked out great. The doctors couldn't figure out how he survived and he was now a miracle. However, Manheim later sprouted tails and ears at age 27. He lived in the forest and no one ever saw him again.
Anyone can have deep thoughts
Whether tangible or inconceivable
It's easy to pretend to know what you're saying
Pepper each sentence with a fancy adjective or two
Try to make it sound believable
Happiness was never a guarantee
Elation may come at a price
In this instance, we run the distance
What we will achieve; this reward will suffice
On the edge of a bookshelf
The drop of a hat
It could all end in a moment
What we make of this life will account for that
"I think you mean 'ambivalent'," I said. We sat down at our desks.
Tom rolled his eyes and pulled out his notebook, "Just because this is English class, you don't have to correct my word choice."
"I am just trying to help you. So why do you feel ambivalent about Anisa?" I discreetly nodded toward the girl in the front left of the classroom. She was flipping through her binder.
Even though she wouldn't have been able to hear, Tom still hissed, "Keep your voice down!"
I leaned back in my seat and smirked. "I think you like her."
Tom jerked his head back and forth. "Come on, Jim, she's a freaking freshman. She's also in, like, drama club. How lame is that?"
I said nothing, knowing Tom just needed to voice his feelings and then he would realize what he truly felt. Tom continued.
"And yet...She's a mad good vocalist. And she really gets into her acting...but that's lame, right? Plus she's not popular or anything."
He glanced up at me, and I gave him a knowing smirk. Tom sighed and shrugged once more. "I feel like I like her."
"I think you mean 'love'," I said, and for once, Tom did not complain about my correction to his word choice.
This is a writing exercise we did today. I'd like to hear your reaction or maybe some helpful tips for how to improve it.
“In total there are 432 breaks and fractures” Said Melissa
“What the hell happened to him?” asked Doctor Richardson.
“His wife said that his legs gave out and he hit the floor.”
“I don’t understand, Even with brittle bones this couldn’t have happened. The only damage to his skin is some bruising on his chest.”
“He most likely got it when he fell.”
“This isn’t human. These bones didn’t just break, they decayed.”
Suddenly a nurse burst into the X-ray room.
“Doctor Richardson, come quickly” The nurse said frantically.
The doctor and nurses rushed to the OR. The nurses sat in the observation room and the Doctor prepped for surgery. The nurses sat down as Doctor Richardson entered the operating room.
“Oh my lord.” The doctor said as he looked at the body.
Captain Tucker’s skin was pale and blotchy with black spots. His body was deflated because all his bones were now mush. The incision, the doctor made, showed that his lungs were limp and black, like a smokers. Suddenly the captain’s left arm hung off the table and melted off like wax. Everyone was disgusted and one doctor ran out the door with her hands on her mouth and stomach. The Captain’s body grew darker by the second until it was black and reflective. Suddenly the body lost its figure completely and the room was quiet except for a continuous high pitch beep.
Do you like this like short but really random peice? Let me know
“I never want to look at another mirror again as long as I live,” she muttered before going about the rest of her day without much hindrance. When nightfall came and she was under the covers of her bed she looked out her window and almost screamed at what she saw. Right outside her window stood a bloody, mangled corpse that looked like Caldonian. She quickly got out of bed and said, “I-I killed you. You can’t do anything to me. You’re not even real anymore. I’m just having a nightmare is all, yeah it’s just a nightmare.”
The thing gave a crooked smile as some of its teeth fell out and landed on her windowsill as it climbed in after opening the window. Vera quickly grabbed her sword from its usual place by her bed and she trembled as she looked at him with it raised in front of her. It opened its mouth and managed to say, “Vera…..”
She cringed as she swung and sliced it in half at the waist. She screamed and chopped it into pieces until all that lay at her feet was a bloody mess of flesh. Her breathing quickened as she slowly backed out of her room and locked it shut behind her. With a tormented expression on her face she sat on the couch. She stared at her bloody hands and whispered, “At least he can’t get me now….he’s dead for good. He won’t come after me anymore. She sat there repeating those words to herself as she refused to fall asleep that night. She rocked herself back and forth on the couch while the moonlight peered in and covered her.
Roger was an evil man, so evil people would say that he was the devil disguised as a human. He was a despicable person. There was no doubt that he had killed many people because his yard smelled like decaying flesh. He would show no kindness to any person. People would walk on the other side of the street when passing his house, or when they saw him strolling their way.
Although he was an evil man he was devilishly handsome and very swav. He always looked his best and knew how to talk people into doing things with his persuasive words. He did this to get his own way.
That is why when he saw Anna he knew he had to have her. She was new in town so she did not know of Roger’s ways, making it easy for him to get his way. She fell for him instantly, although soon after she realized his evil ways. He had tricked her, but it was too late she was pregnant. When she told him he said “you are now infected with the spawn of Roger, sent here to tend to my evil deeds.”
He sits there and observes her as she goes along with her own business like she is the only person there. He ignores the other students as they socialize, going on with their immature behavior, throwing things and hitting each other with rulers. He doesn’t say anything to anyone. He stares hard wondering what’s going through her mind. Why had he been so interested and intrigued by her? It was something more than her beauty.
She glances up every now and then, feeling drawn to look at him. She can feel his stare. She wonders what he is thinking about and why does he keep staring at her. She also wonders why he stays silent, letting the other students act like monsters. She doesn’t put too much thought into it though. She takes one last glance at him; she can see the mechanics working in his head. So she goes back to her own work.
ill let her explain that to you. They walked into the hospital room where his mother laid on the bed strapped down with an Ivey that ran into her arm the only thing that is keeping here alive. Just like a grape on a grape vine. The vine is keeping the grapes alive pumping minerals and nutrients into the grape .if the grape was to fall off it would die just as my mother if there was no Ivey to keep her alive then she would die . I walked over to her and looked into her eyes and said what happen. Not knowing if she was conscious or not. She replied in a raspy voice or was I hearing things. I stop breathing in my sleep but I woke up in enough time to catch enough air to call the ambulance and I passed out and then she paused for a brief second and said they told me that I have cancer.
Doctor to the north wing room 204. It’s an emergency doctor Richard Knox said to me son you have to leave the room this moment I didn’t know whether my mother was dying right before my eyes. I sat in the waiting room again. I sat there for an hour this time. Johnny? He looked around then I noticed the same doctor standing there to the side and I jump up and walk to him in a rushCan I see her? No she’s moved into the intensive care unit a well trained environment where she well be there for a few days and then she can start to have
He searches for his heart in the fog. It is hard because he can’t even see his own hand in front of his face. He puts his hand on his chest and feels the gaping hole where his heart should be. The blood drips down his hand. With his hand he makes a fist and sticks it into the hole. It fits perfectly, he pulls it out.
He wonders why he is even still alive without a heart. It was probably something to do with the fog, because when the fog came that’s when everything started to change for the strange. He hears screams in the far distance. The screams echoed in the fog, he decides to follow the screams in hopes to find his heart. But why would he need his heart anyway, if he is still living right now without it.
The truth is this man is not living, not anymore. During his life time he lived without using his heart. The fog was his eternal punishment after death. He is now doomed to wonder for the rest of eternity in the fog as he searches for his heart.
"Over with what?" She asked, holding her breath. Sje doesnt understand whats happening. THey were just going on a waqlk through the park, it was foggy out Brian and Ashley favorite weather. She never expected that this would come with a simple little walk. She looked up at him, he hadnt move. She could see his mouth it was in a straight line/ Ashley wanted to hug him and him say it wasnt over, but she knew he never would.
"Us," he fubally said after a long pause "we're over."
"But-" she started looking up quick, she stopped her words because he was already walking away. She fell on her knees looking down on cement. She could barely breath, she dropped hitting her face on the floor and refuse to get up or wipe off the dirty on her face, she lost her heart to the fog.
The coffee pot is full now with nice fresh Dunkin Donut’s coffee. Closing my laptop I stand up slowly and stretch my legs. I go into my cabinet and look for a couple coffee mugs. Damn, I only have my mom’s antique looking mugs. All well seems everything else is in the dishwasher. I really have to run the dishwasher today.
I scream and kick my legs. Ethan just giggles at me. “It’s not funny Ethan! I can’t stand how you always manage to do that… I mean seriously dude c’mon!” Ethan puts his hand through his hair and he gives me his stupid trademark grin. “I guess I really am that good looking, huh?” My face drops. “I’m being serious Ethan… It’s like you were meant to be a seductress or something… It’s getting annoying. Just so you know.”
His smile begins to fade away again. Just like it does almost every time this happens between us. Something always ruins it. One of us usually says something to piss the other one off. It usually ends with us slamming doors and many angry words exchanged between us. It’s like we’re a married couple but we’re certainly not.
I couldn't see anything in sight,
I tried to find a flashlight,
while trying not to stay in the stage called "fright"
My family wasn't home at all,
and my brother wouldn't answer my phone call,
I slipped down the stairs, which was a great fall,
rolling towards the nearest bathroom stall
After I got up, I tried to go to the living room couch,
and as I sat down, I sat on the flashlight which made me scream "OUCH!!!"
December 14, 2011
I lost her in the fog.
She ran away from me.
I went to search for her.
But she had broken free.
She was strong willed,
Determined you might say.
She would dream each and every night,
Of running far away.
Nashua had little to offer
For a soul such as her own.
She had dreams bigger than life
Her plans were set in stone.
When she had her chance to go,
She left without a word.
I begged her to return,
But my plea's were left unheard.
Her destination was Cali,
To live a life of bliss.
Fair well, she did not bid me,
I cannot blame her this.
She did what made her happy,
Without fears or even a sigh.
One day I’ll be brave like her,
And leave without goodbye's.
I admired her wits,
And strived to live like her,
Would Nashua remember her name?
She would never be sure.
Although she is gone now,
I smile with no shame.
That girl that’s heading west,
We are one of the same.
December 13, 2011
Inside a small dusty room, rich with the smell of mold and decay lay two brothers. Each was huddled under a separate pathetic sheet of recycled cloth trying to shoo away the chill of an Illinois night at the Orphanage. Carson on the left cot had straight brown hair that sprayed out in static anarchy across his pillow less bed. His feet stuck out from underneath his blanket revealing scars from years of running through bramble, rocks, and forests barefoot. Hidden underneath the blanket stretched the length of his back was a deep scar given to him by a clumsy Miner who had swung his pic around in a wide dangerous arch. Carson had been able to push his brother out of the way, but he was unable to avoid a deep gash across his back. Next to his bed was a table; on it was a single candle holder. The wax making a deep gooey lake at the base of it where the candle used to be. On the other side of the bed splitting the attic room in two was a large window, half smashed long ago from a tree. The tree had been removed but the window was not fixed. It let in a heavy draft and made Bion the other brother shiver under his identical cot blanket combo. Bion was the younger, he had hair like his brother’s, but his was cut shorter. Carson had stolen a pair of scissors a while back and kept them in the table drawer, always ready to cut his brother’s hair if it was getting too wild.
It was a nice night; moonless, clear, cold but not bone chilling cold; Bion was tossing and turning in his cot. He would emit slight whimpers from time to time and underneath lids his eyes flipped around rapidly. When in a sudden fit he shot upright, screaming. His brow soaked with sweat, even in the cold. Carson was immediately awake, hopping out of bed to shake his brother back into reality. “Bion! Bion! Get ahold of yourself!” He shouted at his brother, “It’s just a dream, you’re fine.”
“Ca.. Carson?” Then Bion’s eyes focused and he shook the dream away from his conscious. “Oh, I just had the worst nightmare ever. It was so awful.”
Carson sat down next to his brother on his bed. He was tired but he knew that the dream would keep Bion awake all night, so he started rubbing his hand calmly over his brother’s back. “Tell me about it.”
“It was horrible Carson, it started off in a city, but not a normal city. It seemed like it was ancient but everything was brand new, like shiny and stuff. I was running down a street and people were running after me. They were dressed in metal and had odd shapes on their chest, like one had a square, another, a set of rectangles. Another had a triangle on his chest. He seemed to be in charge. And I was running, running as fast as I could. And there was someone running beside me, but it wasn’t you.”
“Wasn’t me? Then who was it?”
“I’m not sure, it was a girl. But I don’t know any girls.” Then he looked up at his brother, a tear dripping down his eye. “And we didn’t get away.”
“They caught you?”
“Yea, and they wouldn’t let go, no matter how hard I struggled or screamed they wouldn’t let go. And then I woke up. It was so horrible Carson”
Carson stroked his brother’s hair, “Don’t worry Bion, it was just a dream. Not real, but damn, you have some imagination.” Then Carson looked outside the broken window. The sun was starting to rise and paint streaks of pink in the sky. Morning was coming, “Come on, no use going back to bed when it’s almost time for us to wake up. Might as well just start the day early.” He stood up from his brother’s cot and went to make his. Or at least arrange the rag more neatly.
December 12, 2011
I sat in Mr. Greene's classroom under my desk shaking with dear. The school was in lock down; there was a giant toilet terrorizing all who crossed its path.
I had heard about these giant toilets before; I never thought that I would acutally see one in real life. They really are awful creatures. They throw poop at people and can nearly drown anyone in their toilet bowl large enough to flush a poop the size of a human.
Boom! The giant toilet broke down the door to the classroom. It looked around, but, thankfully, he could not see us due to his poor eyesight. He left the room shortly after throughing a few poop balls just in case. I was happy to say none of them hit me.
The giant toilet left the school leaving only a few students and teachers covered in pooop. The lock down drill saved us all from being seriosuly disturbed for the rest of eternity and covered in poop balls.
Two times a week, I’d like to tell myself I wouldn’t care
And two times a week, I would lie
And I know I’m digging, my own grave
But the headstone says, it’s for you
Open the cellar door
To let some light in
But close the window I hate the draft
And open the cellar door
To let some light in
I don’t know how long I’ll last
Three times a day, I give myself time
Three times a day, I would think
Three times a day is two to many
I just don’t know what to do
Four times a year, the seasons change
Four times a year, I feel a bit better
But two too many years are fallowing me
I want it split in two
Open the cellar door
To let some light in
But close the window I hate the draft
Ask me for advice
I don't know what to say
I've never been right there
I've never had that day
You ask me who to trust
You ask me who does what
I love you, you're my sister
But I just have my gut
I tell you my gut instinct
I say there's reason there
I understand your anger
I love that you can share
I love you, you're my sister
I love you, you're my friend
I'll always be there for you
I'll be there till the end
Just take a slow, deep breath now
Count to ten one time
It's not worth your worry
They're not worth your time
You're my sister
I'm your friend
Till the very end
Does it flow well or are there parts that you think could use improvement?
People ask me all the time, “what’s the best way to survive a boring high school?” I would always answer just make it fun. But I never realized that everyone has their own definition of fun. My name is Tag Hanson, im a senior at Pembroke High School. This story is all about finding yourself. Sounds cheesy I know, but don’t overlook anything in life, because when you do, sometimes life overlooks you in return.
Its was just like any other day at Pembroke. I drove in right as the bell was ringing and class was starting. My first class was Latin. There were a lot of cool people in it, only problem was that the teacher was a stiff. Last time she laughed Bob Hope could actually count backwards from 10. You see today was my best friends birthday, and he sat next to me in Latin. I had asked the teacher yesterday if I could bring in some cookies for him and she immediately shut that down. So I did it anyway. I made enough for everyone to have one cookie, only problem was they were peanut butter cookies. Matt Jones is allergic to peanut butter. So Matt has a near death experience blah blah blah… I end up in my good old friend Mr. Zinga’s office. Mr. Zinga is the principal at Pembroke, and me and him have, well, a rather expansive history. Every since I put ketchup packets under the toilet seats freshman year he’s been on me like white on rice. Anyway, he sits me down just like always, looks up at the clock, then the ground, then up to me. He starts going on about the same shit as usual, how I need to be more aware, listen to the teachers, respect the other students…then he stops and looks right at me. He says that he is tired of seeing me in his office, and if I get sent back to him again im not playing hockey this season. Now at first I thought he was bluffing, I sat back in my seat, crossed my arms and gave him the good old mafia stare down. It didn’t seam to work this time. Was he serious? I slowly stood up and left his office.
So that night I called my friends Anthony, Sean, and Christie over to my house to tell them what had happened. I explained to them that ever since I was a little kid I had always thought about my senior year of hockey in high school. They knew how important it was to me. But you see, in my school, there isn’t much going on. And a lot of the students look to me and my antics to help them through the day. I had come to a dilemma that I had long feared. If I keep up my ways then I risk losing my opportunity to play my senior year of hockey. But if I stop the way I act, then I risk letting the school slip into the dark gloomy place that it once was.
We had sat there for about an hour just hanging out and talking like we always do. All of a sudden Christie shouted that she had an idea. She started saying how Mr.Zinga only said he didn’t want to see me in his office again. But he never said anything about other people. She explained that if I give my ideas to other people, then they could follow through with them and my hand would be clean. This way the students can still enjoy all of my humor and antics, just with different people doing them. We all came to an agreement that this plan will work. Anthony said that he would be the one to do all of the things that I would normally do, the “hit man” if you will. Christie will help come up with good ideas to keep us all out of as much trouble as possible, and Sean said he would do all of the talking if things did go sour. He was a genius at creating excuses. He once convinced a blind man to buy sunglasses.
this is the first paragraph of a short story i wrote for class. let me know what you think about the concept and the flow of the story
“I wish I had done worse in high school”. Now how many times do you hear a person say that? Sure, everyone always says that they wish they had done better in school, but its very rare to see a person say they wish they had done worse. Well, my name in David Chesterfield and I can honestly sit here and tell you that I wish I had done worse.
Throughout my entire childhood, my parents always held this expectation that I was going to grow up and become a doctor just like my father and his father before him. I never really had a say in it. It was just imprinted in my mind at an early age that I was going to be a doctor. I went through school, took all the AP classes, and received first in my graduating class for GPA. Everything was going perfectly, or so I thought. I enrolled at Tufts University in the fall after I graduated and studied the medical practice. My parents were so happy that I was doing what they had always wanted me to do. But thats the thing, it was what they wanted me to do. I always had an interest in drawing. Whenever I didn't have my head in a book or was sitting in a lecture, I was drawing. I would come up with these abstract portraits of people and places that I had never seen before and bring them to life on a piece of paper. My teachers always used to tell me that I had a wide imagination and should see where my drawings could take me. But I was far too busy worrying about all my other classes to take my drawings seriously. Besides, my parents wouldn't have anything to do with me being an artist anyway, so it was a dumb idea. Or so I though.
During my first semester of freshman year I shared a dorm with this kid Kyle from Michigan. We were both pre-med and became good friends relatively quickly. One night we were both trying to study for our mid term when I accidentally took out the wrong notebook. The one I had taken out had all of my drawings and doodles inside of it. Kyle saw the notebook and asked if he could look through it. I thought little of it and handed him my notebook. He sat there and flipped through the pages, closely analyzing some of the drawings. He put the notebook back down on the table and just stared at me for a moment. “You really drew all of those? There amazing”. He said as I looked back at him in a somewhat puzzled manor. “ My dad owns an art studio out in Lancing, I bet he would love to have some of your art presented there. “ I told him that that was a crazy idea and all the drawings were just doodles I did to waste some time while I was bored in class(even though thats a false statement). Kyle then began to explain to me that people would potentially pay lots of money just to own one of my drawings. I still thought he was crazy, but I figured I had nothing to loose. So he sent his father one of my drawings.
About 2 weeks later I received a phone call from Kyle's dad. He too was in aw over my drawing and asked me if there was any way I could fly out to Lancing to meet with him about some potential business. I asked him what days would work best for him and he said that weekend would be the best. So I agreed to go out and see him. The only problem was that my parents would kill me if they found out I wasn't studying all weekend, let alone flying to Michigan to meet about drawing pictures. So I made up a little lie about how there was a convention on the brain and how it works out in Michigan and how our class was going down to take part in it. And somehow by the grace of god they believed it. I had Kyle go with me so the tension would be a little bit less since its his dad and all. We arrived at Kyle's house, or should I say mansion. I have never seen a house that big in my entire life. I think Kyle noticed that I was in shock because as we pulled up his mile long driveway he turned to me and said” just one of the perks of being a successful artist”.When we got to the front door his father was standing there waiting to greet us. He first gave Kyle a hug and asked him how things have been. Then he turned to me and with a huge smile on his face he said” and you must be David”. “ Yes sir thats me” I said nervously, trying not to sound like some stupid redneck from New Hampshire. “Well David its a pleasure to meet you”.
this is the first couple paragraphs from my short story. is it a good opening? how could i make it better?
December 10, 2011
Give me oxygen
in a breathless world.
Let me redefine my parameters
and refocus my confusion.
If I'm chaotic then let me
live inside this vivid delusion.
With moments of terrestrial downpour,
we could either wallow in it's puddles
or rage against such violent precipitation.
If I'm but a cliche then let me
experience the pitter pat, it's gentle vibration.
To lack the will is to fail
at a task's feet.
Falling asleep upon it's doorstep
like a nomadic creature.
If I'm just a kid then let me
absorb what this world has to feature.
“Come in!” a man’s voice barked. He sounded extremely angry. Leah opened the door and King Peter was stood in a large library. Audrey gazed in wonder at all the books in the room. She didn’t remember ever seeing it before, but then again, she hadn’t been here often.
“Good afternoon, Audrey,” King Peter said. Audrey looked back at him and saw that he had wiped all previous signs of anger off of his face.
Audrey curtsied low before him. “King Peter,” she said. King Peter had black hair and a slight beard. His eyes were a deep chocolate brown.
“How nice of you to come and visit. Please, take a seat.” Audrey did as she was told and sat in the chair he gestured to. King Peter began putting books back onto shelves and Audrey once again admired the great number of books in the room. “How do you like my library?”
“It is wonderful,” Audrey said. She noticed that Queen Leah had left the room, but Audrey's bodyguards still stood in the background.
“My wife loves to read. Do you?” King Peter said, walking to a different bookshelf to replace a book.
“Books are an incredible thing,” Audrey said. She had read many during her education and plenty on her own. “I love to read them.”
“I remember when I first brought Leah here. I showed her this library. She told me it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Besides me, of course.” King Peter chuckled and Audrey laughed lightly. King Peter then began wandering around the room.
“It is indeed beautiful,” Audrey agreed.
“Let me see, where did I put that book?” King Peter said to himself. “Aha! Here it is.” He reached up to the bookshelf on his right and pulled down a novel. “Maybe you’d be interested in reading this.” He handed the book to her and she gazed at the cover: Catch my Life.
“This sounds quite intriguing,” Audrey said.
“Indeed. It is a story filled with adventure, drama, suspense, and romance. You may borrow it, if you would like.”
“Thank you.” Audrey flipped through the pages for a few moments before setting it on her lap.
“My son likes to read, but he doesn’t share my intense passion for it,” Peter said. After a few moments of silence, Peter sat near Audrey. “Audrey, I have a question for you. Why did you not choose to marry my son?”
Audrey was taken aback by his bluntness and chose to carefully word her answer. “The choice was not mine. My father picked out my fiancée.”
King Peter’s eyebrows shot up. “Did he? I was under the impression that everyone got to choose their fiancées.”
Audrey was immediately confused. “I do not think that is the case. The other princesses didn’t seem as if they had chosen their fiancée.” Janet had looked happy with her engagement to Michael, but Melissa and Tracy hadn’t looked terribly excited.
“Oh, well maybe I just thought that at least you would get the choice. Your father should give you that, shouldn’t he? I mean, you are the only heiress to the throne of Selah. You should at least get to choose who to forfeit your kingdom to.”
Audrey hadn’t thought of it that way. “I respect my father’s decision. I believe he chose Seth because he thought it would be best for me and my kingdom.”
“Very loyal words, but my dear, there will be a time when you must do what you think is best.” As Audrey thought about this, King Peter spoke again. “Who would you have wanted to marry?”
Audrey took the question seriously. She had never considered the others being an option after her engagement was announced. Benjamin was a close friend of hers, Lucas was like a brother to her, and Michael was rumored to be as cruel as his father. With a start, Audrey realized that King Peter was not acting cruel at all. Were those rumors really just rumors or was King Peter hiding something? She realized she hadn’t answered his question.
“I am not sure.”
King Peter nodded, seemingly pleased with her answer. “Think about it, Audrey. This marriage will not be undone. Seth is a nice boy, but is he what you want? Think about the future. Seth is a boy who likes to go out and fight for his kingdom and help his people. With a mindset like that, he would never be home. He would never be there for you or your future children.” King Peter was staring at her intently as he awaited her response.
“He would make time for me and if not for me, at least for our children,” Audrey said. “I would never keep him at home for too long if he felt he had to do something for the good of our kingdoms.”
King Peter leaned forward and took Audrey’s hand in his. “You are a smart girl. See past all of this. Seth would get caught up with his family, his sisters, and the two kingdoms.”
Audrey shook her head. King Peter sighed. “Seth has a wonderful life. He has had love and affection from his whole family.” He stood up and walked toward the bookshelf, keeping his back to her. When he spoke a few minutes later, he seemed to have changed the subject. “You know, I wish my son had that good of a life. Sure, he has me and his mother, but he’s lonely. The poor kid. He memorized every part of our kingdom. He knows every path, every road, and every house. He has read up on our kingdom’s history.”
Audrey wondered what this had to do with anything. “My point is, he put his entire life into ruling because he is lonely. Now, not only is he ready to become a great ruler, he also needs a family of his own to fulfill him. Janet can’t give him that.” King Peter paused.
“Janet is a great girl, but she is too young and immature. She’d be a rather young mother, and Michael would wait a few years for her to become older. Janet also can’t emotionally be there for my son. She’s too high strung; she’d never calm down and listen to him. Michael needs someone to listen to him.”
King Peter then turned to face Audrey. His voice was barely above a whisper and Audrey swore she saw pain in his eyes. “I wanted so badly for Michael to marry you. You would’ve listened to him and given him a family. Your kingdom would’ve helped to fulfill him too. He would’ve been given a new land to memorize. Audrey, you would’ve been perfect for him.”
Audrey finally spoke softly. “I am sorry; I did not choose my fiancée.”
King Peter shook his head and knelt before Audrey so she was at eye level with him. “Don’t you see, Audrey? You can.”
Audrey’s eyes widened and she shook her head. “I do not dare. My father thought that this was in my best interest.”
King Peter sighed. “Give my son a chance. If you were in love with him and not Seth, you would have begged your father for the change.”
“I never said I was in love with Seth,” Audrey said.
King Peter smiled. “That was all I needed to hear.”
“Goodbye, Audrey. Enjoy the book and think about what I’ve said.”
Audrey accepted the dismissal and stood up. “Thank you, King Peter.” She then left, her bodyguards following, and King Peter smiled after her.
So, this is just a part of my NaNoWriMo story. Did you have trouble understanding any part of it? What feeling did you get from the characters?