Trust Falls: The Importance Of Chance

Hi!

This is a quick post, but if you fellow writers don't mind, could you tell me what you think of this essay I wrote for English? Thanks! Keep in mind I'm in 7th grade, so it's likely not as well-written as some of your highschool teachers expect. However, any advice regardless of level is very appreciated! Thanks!

Trust Falls: The Importance of Chance

 Your mind may attempt to discourage you, saying, “This is too risky.” Your confidence may waver, insisting that you cannot succeed. However, if you listen closely, you will find your heart encouraging you to leap ahead, for if you don’t take a chance, you will leave a dream to wither and die, and you will never know what grand possibility you left behind.

Never miss out on an opportunity just because it may not triumph; You can’t live your life in a bubble. Although you need to choose wisely when it comes to which risks prove worth taking, sometimes you must take a chance, and, as Nike preaches, “Just Do It.”.

   Maybe you can make a difference in the world, if only you possess the courage to try. A chance, even a dangerous one, may reveal a path to something wonderful. One of my favorite quotes states, “Difficult roads often lead to beautiful destinations.”

J.K Rowling wrote Harry Potter and stands as the wealthiest writer in the world, yet she once battled serious problems. She stumbled along a difficult road, but her destination indeed proved beautiful. She fought her way out of poverty and published her first novel, which posed a huge risk. Yes, the cherished tale of Harry Potter formerly insinuated financial suicide. As a single mother supported only by welfare, no one would blame Rowling if she decided against using her hard-earned money to put out a novel that seemed more-than-likely to fall short.

However, Miss Joanne took the uncertainty head-on, and we now know that her risk became the best decision of her life. If J.K Rowling never took the humongous chance, she may still be on the verge of becoming homeless, and we would never receive the privilege of enjoying the epic stories of Harry Potter. How pitiful!

When you consider trying something, don’t dwell on what could happen if you fail, instead contemplate the consequences you will face if you don’t aim for success. Testing ourselves involves a lot of chance, too. Abraham Lincoln is known today as the incredible president who abolished slavery. However, once it was not so. Lincoln ran for president eight times before he ever became elected. Each time, he risked being ridiculed, for the people rejected him a multitude of times. He attempted again and again to become a leader, always holding the chance of being turned down. Of course, he didn’t let that stop him, and the ninth time he ran for president, Abraham Lincoln won the election and became one of our most memorable leaders ever.

In some instances, fighting for a change also requires risk. If you never attempt to make a difference, you won’t make one. Martin Luther King Junior risked his life to change the way African Americans were treated. He knew that going against the law’s ways may cause anger and violence towards him, but Dr. King did it anyway. He stood up for what he firmly believed in, and in reward he gained the ability to change the world for the better. In risking his own life, he moved us forward and away from segregation. While the exceptional man was sorrowfully assassinated, he made his mark on the world, and his risk proved well-worth it.  

In a world with no risks, I suppose we’d all remain in whatever situation we began in, for there would exist no chances of change for the better. How miserable our lives would feel if no change was made possible by chance. What if we were all too skittish to act; too cowardly to adventure? I pray our world will never be like that.

Reject your fear of diving ahead, and become the first to venture outside of your comfort zone. Boycott hesitation to test yourself, even if you will likely blunder. Do not show reluctance to make a change. You’ll never live bravely if you don’t get hurt. You’ll never learn if you don’t make mistakes, and you will never be successful if you don’t encounter failure. Thus, let this be a lesson to you. Exhibit courage, and take risks. I cannot wait to see where your rolls of the die will take you.

Currently Writing...

'Ello!
I've been writing a whole lot lately. Seriously, my family is starting to think I'm a hermit. And that's pretty accurate.  I figured I might as well share a little proof that I've been writing my butt off, so here's a quick snippet of my current WIP, which has yet to be titled.

Uplifting dust from the old dirt road, Oscar shuffled along, eyes wide open for bits and pieces of- well, anything. Oscar’s father was a merchant, or… something like that. In the beat-up village of Dizvizh, he sold whatever he could create, purchase himself for cheaper, or Oscar could stumble upon. It wasn’t a great job, and he didn’t make much, but it put food on the table, so it was good enough.

Oscar was 14. An… interesting age. He wasn’t old enough to start working, but he wasn’t quite a child, so he had to help his father. A horse and buggy clattered along the road, so Oscar stepped out of the way. Unfortunately, he didn’t step as far as he should have. The cart’s big rickety wheels dropped into a puddle of muck, conveniently splashing all over Oscar.

“Ack!” He shouted in his thick Eastern accent. His trousers were now splattered with foul-odor-emitting mud, amongst other old stains. Grumbling, he continued along the road, his shoes squishing as he stepped.

Something silver caught his eye. It was glinting medal. Thinking his crummy day might be about to be made better with a superb find, he rushed to the left and bent to salvage the shiny object from the soil. As Oscar swept the dust off the round thing with his palm, the item was revealed. Clumps of rock and caked mud dropped off of it, uncovering a purple egg that seemed to glow.

“What in King Sambit…” The boy murmured. Before he could examine it fully, he noticed that a wealthy-looking man dressed in suit and top hat was glaring at him suspiciously from a shop window. Oscar casually stashed the egg away in his pocket and continued walking at a much less sedate pace than previously.

Oscar cringed as he heard the bells of the shop’s door swinging open. “Stop right there, young man!” A deep voice bellowed. Oscar pivoted to face a grey-bearded man with a stern frown. “What’ve you got in your pocket?” He nodded to Oscar’s bulging coat compartment. Thinking quickly, Oscar pulled not the egg, but instead a silver pen he had collected earlier that morning. Slowly, mimicked reluctance.

The man raised an eyebrow, as if that’s not what he expected. He accepted it anyway. “Give that to me!” He exclaimed, thrusting out his open palm. Oscar resisted a smirk, and confessed the unwanted pen. The storekeeper snapped his hand shut, and buried it into his own pocket. “That was not yours.” He spat before turning to stride into his shop. Oscar rolled his cocoa eyes. “Wasn’t his either.” He grumbled, brushing his curly brown hair out from his eyes.

The storekeeper swung violently around. “I heard that!” He roared. “Thief!” He hollered. Within a split second, an officer in uniform appeared from across the street. “You again? Street rat!” He whooped. Oscar winced, Not again.

He ran. Sprinting away as fast as his slippery, wet, sludge-covered feet could carry him. Down the road, turning with a dangerous stumble. Arms pumping the air. He could hear the officer shouting behind him, but didn’t pause to ponder what he was saying. It was a race on a track he was quite familiar with.

It's not much yet, but hopefully I can make it better. What do you think of it? If this was a book, would you read it?

P.S: The indenting got messed up when I copied it from Google Docs, so please ignore that.

Dragon Haiku

Here's my 2nd Fantasy Literature Camp assignment! I didn't do the 2nd one, so this is really the 3rd. I just wasn't all that interested in yesterday's prompt! Today's challenge is to write a haiku about a dragon. I haven't written a haiku since the 3rd grade... So, here we go!

Fangs sharpened by pain,
Scales riddled with smoke and age,
The dragon awaits.

Wellllllll.... That was interesting! It's hard to write something so short!
~Tenley

The Forest Guardian ~ Fantasy Literature Camp 2016

I'm so excited to partake in the challenges and activities of Kathryn's Fantasy Literature Camp. Today's was to design a fantasy creature, here's mine. Instead of a boring description, I thought I'd just write a short piece about my creature to answer the questions.

     The heroes strided along the overgrown pathway, until it ended and they were forced to trudge through brush and sticks. After a long while, they came to a dense forest. It had a clear beginning; yet no apparent end. Grudgingly, they continued on, but as soon as they set foot on the forest floor, they heard an unmistakable sound. "SC-REEEEEEEEE!" A Guardian's call rang across the land. Within a single second, a massive shadow swooped above them, swirled to the ground, turned to face them, and revealed a creature with both terrifying and beautiful features.
     She, or it, (a mixture of the two would be most accurate.) glared sharply at them with her seemingly human eyes. Her warm mocha skin was riddled with green designs, like the surface of a leaf. She had fangs sharp as needles, and a flickering snake tongue in the center of her snarl. She had long, dark brown hair that spiraled in curls down to her ankles. She was sparingly clothed in ragged cloths, but she stood her ground so confidently, that she could have been wearing the finest of gowns. Majestic eagle-like wings spread out behind her, feathers as long as your forearm. Her feet were replaced by sharp, pointed talons.
     She was a Guardian. A fearsome... thing... that protects nature. This particular creature was a Forest Guardian, created to defend the lush forests that are home to many other animals. They are fierce creatures, for most humans who attempt to enter their natural kingdoms don't make it out alive.
    You may be wondering, did our heroes make it? Hmm... I wonder too.

~Tenley
I hope this isn't too late, Kathryn! I was drawing the Guardian, but then I took too long, and it got late... But it's definitely still the 9th! It's just late. 9:30PM.

Maybe Someday - Page 6

     Peaceful and calm, I'm warm and curled in a tight ball. Then, suddenly, I'm jerked forward and crash down. I let out a pitiful noise. Lights flash and I hear a shriek. I breathe heavily and cry.
     My eyes snap open, and I realize I'm in my bed, my chest is heaving. I sigh, and turn over. Blue eyes are staring back at me. "Ah!" I squeak in alarm.
     "Sorry!" Madison says, flinching back. "You were crying in your sleep." I realize there's a wet spot on my pillow and my cheeks are sticky with tears. "Oh." I reply lamely. Everyone is awake now, even Vicky, the deepest sleeper ever. They peer at me in the dimly lit room, I can see them all. The sun is barely peaking up over the horizon out our window. I feel as though I woke it as well.
      "I'm sorry." I say. "It's ok." Madison replies, she quietly walks over to her own bed. Then everyone goes back to sleep, but I lay there, continuing to remember, or imagine, I'm not quite sure, the night that our car crashed, my parents died, and I, a 6 month old infant, disturbed from my nap, was changed forever.
       Later in the cafeteria, I silently pick at my bland oatmeal. Rain is noisily spattering on the tin roof. Scarlet of course, is sitting right by me, she doesn't say anything either. "Why are you so quiet?" I ask.
        "Hmm?" Scarlet says, perking up, "Oh, I was just thinking." "About..."I continue. "Nothing" Scarlet says. I don't pry.
        Outdoor hour is replaced by a movie. This was actually pretty cool as we rarely had access to television. We watched Monsters Inc. Kind of babyish, I know, but I still enjoyed it.
       The day dragged on, as boring and repetitive as the pounding rain. I spent quiet time reading Little House On The Prairie. I didn't get through much though, I couldn't concentrate with my roommates blabbering as much as they do. They're nice girls and all, but I really don't care about anything they talk about.
       By evening, the rain finally stops. I can see the muddy ground and battered trees through the clouded windows. I'm nibbling at my hotdog, wondering where Scarlet is, (I hadn't seen her at all since dinner started.) when suddenly, I'm yanked up from my table, and shuffled into the hallway. I try and get away, but the grip is too strong. I attempt to wiggle free, but then a familiar voice says, "It's me, Scarlet." Oh. I drop my arms and relax. "What are we doing here?" I ask. I'm very confused. This isn't even the main hallway, it's just a side corridor, dimly lit and smelling of dust.
       "Listen." Scarlet says. She flips her hair away from her eyes. They are bright and determined. "You want to get out of here, don't you Ginger?" I think I know what she has in mind. My lips tremble, "Well...Yeah, I guess so."
       "Well I'm getting out of here, today." I'm shocked. Scarlet continues, words solid, "Will you please come with me? I'd miss you so much. And you don't need to worry. I'll protect you." My eyes widen. I want to so very badly, but I can't... It's too risky. "Scarlet, I'm sorry, but... I can't" Her confidence deflates. "Alright, you've made your choice." She walks away, and turns down the hall. She'll probably sneak out a side door. I wonder, then, Will I ever see her again? 

Sup.

Hey.
I'm bored.
Very bored.
Yup.
So.... I feel like rambling. Wanna hear me ramble? K.
Let's see, what's the first thing that shall pop into my weird head?
I hate people. And school. And the way people work. WHY does everything have to be "awkward" and "weird". Multiple examples of this:
1. If I talk to a guy, suddenly people assume I have a crush on him. What the heck?! Why am I not allowed to have a normal conversation with the opposite gender?
2. Ok, this one is sorta weird, but if my bra strap is baaarrrrreeeelllly showing, people freaak out and are like "OMG TENLEY!!!" Calm down people. It's ok to calmly point it out to me, but you don't need to freak out. I am a female human being. Glad we've established that.
3. People are so dramatic!!! You got a B on a test? Time to weep in the middle of math class. Your friend decided to sit somewhere else at lunch today? Time to sink into a depression and cry because you're going to die alone. :[
Yes I'm ranting.
Let's move on to something more positive! Uh... I'm working on the next page of MS. I'm having trouble developing the story without moving too fast. Any tips?
Is there a difference between fairies and faeries? Is it just an alternate spelling? What's going on there?
I guess that's all for now. I just needed to get some thoughts down. Bye!

Transformation Personal Blog

Hi!
So, I've been thinking, and I think it would be much more practical to turn this into a personal blog. That does not mean I won't be writing! I love writing, I just want to add things in here. Now this will be for everything besides my dolls. Even horses! I won't delete My Life In The Saddle though, not yet. Some things you may be seeing here now:

• Writing (still.)
• Currently reading...
• Horse things
• Fashion and OOTD
• Photography
• Stories
• And more!

I'm very excited, and feel like this is a change for the better! Thanks guys! Bye! 

Maybe Someday - Page 6

    Hey there. :)
Here's page 6 of MS!!

      It's been a couple weeks since the incident with Ben. Since then, there had been an enormous change in my life. Ben finally stopped picking on me! I think Scarlet scared him off. Me and her kind of bonded over over punishment of cleaning the cafeteria before and after meals for a week. It was gross, but it wasn't so bad with Scarlet there. She's great.
     We were sitting under a tree in the play yard now, isolated from the screaming kids and flying toys. I was reading The Giver now, and Scarlet was sketching. She is an amazing artist, even though she won't admit it.
      I glanced over the to look at her drawing. It was of a girl sitting in the branches of a large tree. Scarlet notices me and lifts the paper up, "Do you like it?" She asked me. "Yeah!" I reply. "It's you." She told me. Then, she takes out an orange matte pencil, and colors my hair bright orange. "That's more like it." She says. I smile.
     The outdoor attendant blows a sharp whistle, startling me. Scarlet smoothly lifts her head and stands. "Come in!" The attendant bellows. We head in, along with a flurry of kids and teenagers. Inside, we head over to the art table, where Scarlet settles down to continue her picture of me. "Why don't you draw something," She says, "You always have your face in a book." I giggle and sit down in one of the crayon-mark-covered wooden chairs. "Fine" I say with a playful roll of my eyes. Scarlet smirks.
     I lightly scratch in an oval with two circles for eyes, and a triangle-shape for a nose. Then I fill in the eyes with an orange ring and a dark pupil. Scarlet laughs, she knew I was drawing her when she saw the color of her eyes. She jokes, "Beautiful."
    "I told you I can't draw!" I exclaim, laughing with Scarlet. "You weren't lying!" She teases. I elbow her lightly, and shake my head.
     A thin blonde-girl who looks a little older than me strides toward Scarlet from behind. I stop my giggling and nod towards her, raising my eyebrows to Scarlet. The girl stops between Scarlet and I and leans in, one hand on her hip and one on the table. "Hey carrot-eyes," She sneers, I can feel the anger radiating from Scarlet, but she keeps calm. "I see you're hanging out with flame-head there. Seems fitting." At her put-down of me, Scarlet jumps up, but I follow her and sharply whisper in her ear, "She's not worth it!" Scarlet's pale hands un-clasp, but her eyes are flaring in irritation. The girl giggled stupidly, "Thanks for calling your wolf off, red-head, you should get it a leash." With that, the girl left, a smug grin spread across her face. "Knock it off, Brenda." Scarlet called after her. Brenda made a pretend pouty-face and pivoted, "Shoo Doggy." Then she headed on her way.


Did you like it? Please leave your opinion of page 6 in the comments!

Maybe Someday Page 5

    Ginger looked scared next to me, her eyes wide and scared. I ran a hand through my loose curls, easily camouflaging my uneasiness. Ginger's foot caught a loose stone on the path and I caught her arm in a vice-like grip. I had been to Headmaster Befknock's office several times but I am worried about Ginger though; I've watched her from the side before and she's not a trouble-maker. Her bottom lip has a very slight tremble, and I notice her hands are shaking.
    "You okay?" I asked her gently, lightly touching her shoulder with my black-painted-fingernails.
     Her head whipped around at my fingers, and she nodded, and then shook her head. "B-ben always rips on me  . . ."
    "Hey, you like to be on your own, and I get that but you need someone to protect you. That's not a bad thing," I added as her eyes flared angrily, "it just means that it isn't one of your strengths. And I want a friend. You saw the way they look at me." I blinked. "So why don't you run with me?"
    "B-because I have forgotten what having other people care for me feels like." Ginger turned her head away.
    Mr. Befkock's office- I call it a lair- nears, its drab front dreary and worn. Ms. Bailey raps on the door, her face downcast.
    "Come in!" a voice boomed.
    Ms. Bailey opened the door, it's rusty hinges giving a loud creeeaaak. My eyes know every inch of the office. In the far corner he keeps his hidden stash of Playboys. In the other corner is a plant that has been dead for years. In the center of the room is a large, grand oak desk, with a thick layer of dust laying over its once beautiful surface. Two wooden, stiff chairs sit in front of the desk. Behind the desk sits Mr. Befknock himself.
    He has always reminded me of a knarled, old tree. His face is creased with a million wrinkles, baggy over his eyes, which are a cold, glittering black. His mouth is a thin line, and he has dark grey, thin hair. His eyes seem to be set in a permanent glare, and he fixes me in an icy, bone freezing stare.
    Ginger seems paralyzed, swaying slightly on the spot. Ms. Bailey leaves quickly, bustling out. She hates him as much we do.
    "Sit." He waves a bony hand at the two seats.
    I'm not sure that Ginger heard so I gently touch her arm and she jolts out of her trance. I sit in the stiff-backed chair, and Ginger takes the other one.
    "Names." Mr. Befknock growls.
    "Scarlet." I answer, holding his gaze. He breaks eye contact first and I smirk. Ginger is looking at me with something like awe as she answers, "Ginger."
    "Oh yes." He hisses. "Scarlet. I knew you wouldn't last long out there, always beating people up."
    I casually flick a piece of hair away from my face. "I don't have to talk to you."
    He suddenly leans across the desk and seizes my chin, his stinking breath puffing in my face.
    "Leave her alone." Ginger mutters.
    "Excuse me?" the Headmaster fixes her with a stare that would freeze gasoline.
    "I said leave her alone! She stood up for me. Why isn't Ben in here? He called me names, and told me that it was my parent's fault that I was in this forsaken place. He should be here, not Scarlet!"
    Mr. Befknock stared at her hard and then barked, "Get out. You aren't needed here." Ginger hovers for a minute, looking at me uncertainly. "OUT!" he snarls.
    Ginger bolts. The door slams behind her, and I am left alone with him.
    He ignores me, and my mind begins to wander. Maybe someday I'll get out of here. Maybe someday Ginger and I will get adopted together. Maybe someday . . . . 

Maybe Someday - Page 4

I know I'm writing these pages way too fast but it's so much fun to write and... eeeeh! I love writing Maybe Someday!

     I'm still on the ground. My hands are scraped from falling on them, and they're splintered from the ancient wooden steps. I keep on screaming, crying, sobbing, weeping. It seems like I've had my happiness sucked out of my body and years of distress are pouring from within me.
     Then, behind me, I hear a shout. I look up from the ground, tears now silently falling as my yowls of despair turn to whimpers. In the school's doorway, students are crowded. I assume they were watching me, but now something different has found their attention. Everyone gasps, and people quickly shuffle out of the way. As the mass of people clears, I hear another shout.
     And then I see Ben, on the ground. A pale girl with black hair hovers above him. "This is what you get for bullying! You're no better than she is, heck, you're filth compared to her. Get up and never do something like that again. If you do, I won't be so nice next time." I'm dumbfounded. Ben is clutching his stomach and stumbling to his feet. The girl turns and walks to me, kids rush to get out of her path. She helps me up and I stutter, "Th-thanks."
     "No problem." She says, "You shouldn't let Ben push you around like that. I've seen it before, and this time, he went too far." She brushes her bangs out of her face, and I see her eyes for the first time. They're a brilliant amber, I might even call them orange. "I'm Scarlet by the way." She tells me.
     Ms.Bailey comes up, she looks obviously shaken. "Ben, go to the nurse." She says. "Scarlet, Ginger, you're coming with me." She herds us off, I know where we're going.
    We're going to Mr.Befknock, the head of Pinewood orphanage. You do not want to meet him. Kids only see Mr.Befknock if they've done something serious. Being involved in a fight directly in front of your teacher is definitely considered serious. I'm terrified, but Scarlet, she looks like she doesn't regret a thing.

Sorry for the short page but I wanted to stop there for now. The idea of Scarlet came from my cousin Olivia. (Click HERE to see her DeviantArt) Pretty interesting character, huh?

Maybe Someday - Page 3

This has been so much fun to write so far! Thank you all so much for your suggestions and encouragement! It means a lot to me. Here's page 3!

     I leave the cafeteria, having eaten only a banana. I didn't touch the oatmeal, nor did I drink my milk, even though we are always encouraged to do so. I usually don't eat much, but today in particular, I had no appetite.
     Striding through the halls, I stop by our dorm to pick up my school supplies. They consist of a battered notebook, a few pencils, one pen, and an over-used, blackened eraser. Carrying my things in one arm, I gazed out the window. Our dorm is on the fourth floor, so we're pretty high up. The yard is empty, as everyone is still eating breakfast.
     Ready to go, I head down the long flights of stairs, outside, and to the small school building. It should only fit a class of 15 at the most, but we squish 30 in. Even then, everyone only gets an hour long lesson a day. With 300 kids aged 13-17, and only one teacher, it's the only way for us to learn.
     I hope we have an english lesson today. I think. I despise our hour long math sessions, but I really enjoy English class, much to the disagreement of my peers.
     "Good morning Ms.Bailey." I smile to my teacher, and she smiled back, her blue eyes sparkling. "Hello Ginger." I love Ms.Bailey, she's a kind teacher and we both share a love to read. She talks to me for a minute about The Hobbit, which I had read recently. "Yes, ma'am, I've finished it," I tell her, "And now I'm reading Charlotte's Web." Ms.Bailey grins, "Ah yes, you'll love it. A wonderful classic."
      Now the rest of the class begins to shuffle in. When a dark-haired boy named Ben arrives, I groan under my breath. "Heh Heh," He sneers when he sees me chatting with Ms.Bailey, "Teacher's pet!" Unfortunately, My teacher has her head turned to scold two girls for carving their names into the desks. "Leave me alone!" I spat at Ben, glaring with irritation. "As you wish." He grins stupidly and drops himself into the desk beside mine.
     I'm thrilled to learn that today we will be practicing descriptive writing. Several kids mumble and groan with dismay, but I sit straight up and smile.
     We play a game we often use in english. You write a few sentences describing someone in the room, and everyone has to guess who you're describing. I choose Victoria, from my dorm, who happens to be in the same class as me. I glance up at her and back down at my paper every once and a while, and she notices, she blushes and smiles sheepishly at me. I wink.
     When it is time to share our sentences, I stand. "The girl has long, dark hair, that cascades down her back like a waterfall." My teacher brightens at my use of a simile. "Freckles are sprinkled on her nose, and her mouth curves outwards in a slight smile." I continue, "She wears a snow-white blouse, and a jungle green skirt that makes her ocean blue eyes stand out like an orchid in a field of weeds."
The whole pauses for a moment, but then says all together, "Victoria!"
     "Wow." Vicky murmurs. I know why she is so shocked by my words. I made her sound beautiful. Not that she isn't, but truthfully, her "jungle green skirt" is old and losing color, and the "snow white blouse" is just a t-shirt.
     That's the magic of words. You can use them to change things, and make them appear differently. Maybe someday, I'll be an author. A fantasy blossoms in my mind. I'd secretly write a book, send it to publishers, and they'd say it was amazing. My book would be sold all over the world, and it would become so popular that I'd be famous. I'd be a millionaire overnight, and I'd leave the orphanage and move to a mansion. I'd have a whole library to myself, with every book ever-- My imagination is interrupted as Ben stands to share his description.
     "This girl is skinny as a toothpick." He loudly tells the class, "And her eyes are the color of vomit."
      "Ben!" Ms.Bailey shouts. But Ben continues, "Her hair is a choppy mess, and it's color belongs on a fire-hydrant." My heart stops. I know who he's talking about.
       "Her name is dumb, it sounds like something you'd call a fat cat."
        I can't stand it anymore. "AT LEAST MY PARENTS BOTHERED TO GIVE ME A NAME!" I scream. Everyone knows Ben was given his name by orphanage employees. His parents had given him up so quick they hadn't even named him.
       "Well-Well..." Ben stutters, "I BET MY PARENTS COULD DRIVE!" He yells. My lip quivers. My parents had died together in a car accident before I was a year old. I run out of the classroom as fast as I can,  fall to my knees on the porch steps, and cry. I sob uncontrollably. I'm vaguely aware of Ms.Bailey behind me. "Why are people so cruel?" I croak, salty tears streaming down my face.

Not the happiest page, sorry. Tell me what you thought in the comments.

Maybe Someday-Page 2

Hey.
So I think my first page of Maybe Someday went pretty good. Let's try another. Ellie (from On The Other Side Of Reality) gave a great suggestion of including more of the main character's thoughts. In this page I will.

      The cafeteria is chaos, as usual. Although, I note to myself, it seems even crazier today! I wonder what's up? The four long tables have people scurrying to and fro, and food flies through the air. Have some manners! I think. Then again, no one in the room had ever been taught manners for the most part. Nobody took the time to teach us to be polite, wait our turn, show kindness, or any normal things people would expect kids to know. I picked up most of that from books, and I guess some of it is just my nature. I'm not as rowdy as the majority of my orphan friends.
    I realize the lunch line has moved on without me. I continued down to the line, sliding my plastic tray of mushy oatmeal and a banana down the counter. At the end I grab a carton of milk and scan the room for a table to sit at. Of course, it's full. I squeeze myself in, between Sarah and a boy I don't know. He has blue eyes, untidy blonde hair, and a splatter of freckles across his nose. He's shouting at a boy at another table. 
    "Hey Ginger." Sarah nods to me quickly before resuming to her noisy chat with a younger girl with bouncy caramel curls. 
     "Can you believe it?" Caramel-curls exclaimed. "I know right!" Sarah practically yelled. I don't blame her. It's kind of hard to hear with all the kids jabbering at once. 
     "What can't you believe?" I asked, curious. 
      "HUH?" The girl asked, twisting to look at me. 
       I said louder, "WHAT IS UNBELIEVABLE?" Sarah gasped, "You haven't heard yet?" "What?" I ask, starting to peel my banana. "A third-building-boy got adopted this morning!" Sarah told me, eagerly spreading the news. The curly-haired girl looked disappointed that she wasn't the one to pass the gossip.
      I gasped, "You're kidding!" That's impossible! I think. In our orphanage, there are three buildings. First-building is for little kids and babies, who need to be watched a lot. You stay there until you're 8. Then you move to second-building, where you stay till you're 13. I just turned 13, so now I'm in the third building. That's where you stay for five years until they kick you out so you can figure out life. Third-building-ers NEVER get adopted. It's just a fact of life. No one wants to adopt teenagers.
     "Yeah, it's true!" Sarah said. "Who was it?" I ask. Did I know him? "Someone called Thomas." Sarah replies. "Tom?!" I exclaim. Thomas was a messy tall boy with awful handwriting and a tendency to pick his nose. Ugh. 
     I should be happy for Thomas, but I'm not. Through all my thirteen years, nobody that has come here has wanted me. No one. That really dents your self-esteem, you know? I want to get adopted, and chances are, it'll never happen. My hope has diminished through the years. When I was a first-building, I tried to act cute and impress anyone who walked near me, just in hopes that they'd take me away from the orphanage. I've always hated it. As a second-building, I didn't do that, but I still would freak out any time there was even the faintest possibility that someone was considering adopting me. But now, as a third, I have only a tiny speck of hope left. One that is nearing extinction. 
     Maybe someday, I'll get my hope back?

As always, thank you for reading, and please nicely critique in the comments. Thank you! 

Maybe Someday... (Me trying to start up a novel idea)

Hi!
I know I've really been neglecting this blog. Writing is just SO time consuming, and I never have time for it! But I have an idea for a book, and I'm going to try it. Here's my idea:
A story of a child/tween/teen (undecided) who dreams of a better life. The title, "Maybe Someday" would be representing the kid's hopes and I would end each chapter with "Maybe someday <hope>." This story requires a lot of research, since I don't know much about orphans. I've done a bit, so I think I have enough for at least a rough-draft page. Anyway... We'll see.

     The morning light filtered through the old, worn cutains that hung limply over the window. I blinked my eyes slowly and rolled over. I moved a hand out from under my scratchy blanket and brushed my orange hair out of my face. My mouth gaped wide in a huge yawn as I sat up. I looked around the room I share with 3 other girls. It seems they are all still asleep. I can see Sarah's dark brown curls flipped over the edge of the bunk above mine.
     Dragging myself up, I pull my feet to the edge of the bed and stare down at my blue pajama pants. They're really too small for me, but I don't think about it. Across the room in the bottom bunk of the bed, I see Madison stirring. I rush to the dresser to grab my clothes and claim the bathroom before someone else does. All four of us share a small squished bathroom, so getting ready in the morning is a battle of sorts. As I scurry past Madison to the bathroom door, she makes a face at me, squinting her eyes. I wink at her, "You snooze you lose."
     I close the door and pull on my rather ratty blue jeans and a green tunic that I have to squirm into. I desperately need some new clothes, but, so does every other kid in this sorry place. I run a plastic comb through my hair and try and force it to look nice. I scrub my teeth with the toothbrush I've had since I can remember. It's pink with green dots all over it. Finally I walk out the door.
     My three room-mates and friends stand outside in their own battered pajamas, rubbing the sleep from their eyes and blinking at me. "Early-birds..." Vicky, who's a zombie in the morning, grouchily mumbles. I chuckle and slip on my shoes. "I want to get to the library before breakfast." I inform them. I walk out of our dorm and head down the hall to the stairs.
      When I reach the library, I smile. This is my favorite place. It's a small room, with grey-chipping walls. There are two book shelves, sepersted into novels and picture books. The librarian, Ms.Thompson, is sitting at her little desk, reading a book with a light blue cover. She glances up and gives me a tiny wave, quickly returning to her novel.
     I stroll over to the "big kids" bookshelf (the one with novels) and select "Charlotte's Web" out of the rows. Swooping down into the single red armchair, the pages flip open easily, and I begin to read. I love books, they have a mystical way of taking me away from this wretched orphanage and off to new places.
    I read for a long long time, but it doesn't feel that way. Soon Ms.Thonpson reels me out of my fantasy world, "Go on downstairs or you'll miss breakfast!" I groan. Miserably, I shut "Charlotte's Web" and slide it back on the shelf. We're not allowed to borrow books from the library anymore. We used to, but a bunch of kids were stealing them.
     On my way to the cafeteria, I think about my reading. Fern, Wilbur and Charlotte live on a farm. I think a farm sounds nice. You would have lots of room, animals, and it would be peaceful, away on your own. Maybe someday, I'll leave Pinewood Orphanage and go live on a farm.

Please critique, (NICELY) in the comments! Thank you!

Twinklebelle's Early! - Short Story

Hi!
Do you know what "Elf on The Shelf" is? If not... here's a link to the website: http://www.elfontheshelf.com/ The basic story behind these little "Scout Elves" is that Santa sends one to your house to keep an eye on you the month leading up to Christmas. The elf reports back to Santa every night and informs him if you've been naughty or nice. Usually, the elves arrive on December 1st, but my friend's elf, "Twinklebelle" came early this year! She came on Thanksgiving. I've decided to write a short story on why she came early. I know it's kind of a childish subject, but I just think I'm going to have a ton of fun writing this... Enjoy!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
     Twinklebelle was dangling her feet over the edge of her bunk-bed in her dorm. Twinklebelle shared the dorm with all the other elves that went to children in the same town as her. Most elves hadn't finished this year's Scout training yet, so only 5 other elves were here, Handbone, Jimbo, Garvin, Marvin, and Buster. These elves happened to travel to Twinklebell's family's cousins.
     "What day did you get chosen to leave on?" Twinklebelle asked with a tone of boredom. She'd finished her training over a week ago, and she was growing very tired of having nothing to do all day long.
     "Tomorrow!" The elves replied happily. Twinklebelle squeaked, "Oh!". It was very lucky to get chosen to leave tomorrow, it was the first possible return day, Thanksgiving! "You're so lucky!" She replied enviously.
     "We know," Buster replied, "I'm really excited."
       Twinklebelle sighed. Now she was sad. Her kids, Emma, Luke, and Kate, wouldn't see her for another week! Then she got an idea, why shouldn't they? Twinklebelle had already finished her training! Right away she decided to go ask Santa if she could leave early.
     She jumped off the bed, startling her 5 cousins who were chatting about how much fun they were going to have this December. "I'm going to see Santa!" She shouted. And with that, she rushed out of the dorm, leaving the other elves staring at the flapping door behind her.
      Twinklebelle rushed down the elf sized hallways and turned into Santa's hall. Out of breath from her burst of excitement, she skid to a halt, panting, and knocked on the big wooden door.
     "Come in!" A deep, cheerful voice rang out. Twinklebelle pushed open the tiny elf entryway that was formed like a doggie-door into Santa's door. She stepped quietly into his office, now shaking. What if he says no?
     "Who's there?" Santa asked, peering over his desk.
      "M-Me." Twinklebelle replied, "T-Twinklebelle."
      "Ah! Hello, Twinklebelle!" Santa said jollily, "What can I do for you?
       Twinklebelle took a deep breath, and then a jumble of words poured out of her mouth, "CanImaybeifit'sokleaveearly-I'vefinishedmytrainingandI-" Santa held up a hand to silence the blabbering Twinklebelle. "Excuse me?" He said, squinting his eyes. Twinklebelle bit her lip in embarrassment, and then started again, "I was just wondering if... I could leave tomorrow instead of my original departure date, Decembe 1st." Santa eyed her skeptically, "Have you finished your training?" Twinklebell smiled, "Yes!"
     "Well then..." Santa started, "I don't see why not." Twinklebelle's eyelashes fluttered with excitement, "Yippee!" She squeaked. Santa chuckled, "Have fun."
       The next day, Twinklebelle was soaring over her family's town with her cousins. They had decided to land at the kid's Granny's house, so that they could meet the kids there. They left a note inside the house, sneaking around so they wouldn't be seen. "Let's hide over there!" Twinklebelle whispered, pointing at the well. The elves whooshed through the air and planted themselves in the well, giggling and saying, "Shh!" They were so happy when the kids ran outside to find them in the well.

Riding In Style Writing Contest: 1

Hey guys!

This is my entry for day 1 of Bella's writing contest!

     I stepped lightly on the crunching leaves. This was a new forest we hadn't explored. I saw the other four members of my Establishment behind me, braced for anything to happen. 

    I heard a loud noise from somewhere ahead. I quickly pulled an arrow out of the quiver clipped to the waist of my jeans, and raised it to my bow. I saw something move on the other side of some bushes. I jerked my head to the left to signal to the rest of the group.

    I heard a low whisper. "Something is definitely there." I thought. I bravely stepped forward. I pulled my arrow back. Then, I heard the high pitched squeal of a baby. A jolt of surprise ran through me. The cry was followed by a sharp, "Shh!". I was very confused. Whatever was behind the bush wasn't moving now. 

    Joe, a tall, strong man from my Establishment approached the bushes. He walked around them, looking reading for anything. I followed, holding my bow tight, though I hoped dearly that I would not need it. How reached out a hand to rhe ground. He pulled up a young woman with blue eyes and tangled and curly blonde hair. She looked extremely shaken, tears were streaming done her pale face. In her arms she had a tiny newborn baby, a crying one. Joe didn't look bothered. 

     "Are you alone?" He asked skeptically, eyeing her as an enemy. "Ye-Yes" She squeaked, gripping her child tighter. Joe looked the woman up and down, inspecting her.

    "What's your name?" I asked, hoping to intimidate the lady less. "I...Iris." She stuttered, "And this here is Eleanor. Eleanor Rose. Ella for short." I nodded as Iris looked lovingly at Ella. The baby was wrapped in a tattered pink blanket. That's exacting what the mother and daughter were, tattered. "Can they come back to camp with us?" I sheepishly asked Joe, tugging on the end of my dark side braid. 

     Joe looked reluctant, but he nodded, "I guess." 

     "Come on," I gestured to Iris and Ella, "Follow me." I walked closer up to Iris, and smiled at her. She replied with a weak smile of her own, she'd obviously been through a lot. Iris looked a little older than me, maybe in her mid-twenties.

     It saddened me, how worn Iris appeared. She looked exhausted. She had bags under her eyes and was moving slowly, yet she kept her lips pursed tightly into a smile. This is what the government had done to us. Well, the lack of government. The government had crashed long before I was born, way back in 2029. It was 2055 now, and I was born in 2034. Since then things had gone down hill, people started to form groups, colonies, "Establishments", but that just made things worse. With no head govern, we all had different regulations, different laws, different opinions that kept us in a world of chaos. Things couldn't get much worse than this. That is what I was thinking as we brought Iris and Ella to our camp. But in the months to come, I was to be proved wrong. 

I wrote this like a prologue to a dystopian novel, oh and little something random, this is about 10 paragraphs long, and the whole time, you do not learn the main character's name! Did you notice that? It's not my BEST writing piece, but I think I did ok. I hope you liked it Bella!

Calling all writers!

Go enter this contest! Hurry and click here! 

Wind - a poem

Whoosh!

The winds blow.

They whisper through the trees,

Sending the leaves rustling,

Swaying the grass, 

Causing the birds to ruffle their feathers.

It's cool and crisp,

It's a reminder of autumn.

It comes when the leaves brighten,

It makes them fall.

Whoosh!

The winds blow.

I'm really getting into poetry, especially nature-themed poems. I like my last one, "Rain" better, but I'm okay with this one. It didn't turn out as I hoped, but I'm really proud of "Rain"!

"Rain"

Rain.

It spatters onto my window.

Drip drop, Drip drop.

The droplets of water slide down,

Leaving wet trails along the glass behind them.

Drip,drop, drip drop.

I rest my elbow on the window sill,

I let out a sigh.

My breath forms a cloud on the smooth surface.

Drip, drop, drip drop.

The sky is blocked by a thick cluster of clouds.

Big, grey, and gloomy.

They cling to the sky like leeches,

Draining the bright blue away.

Drip, Drop, Drip, Drop.

Rain.

It's been raining here a lot. I don't like rain very much. I like the smell, and the noise, but that's it. Other than that it's gloomy and a nuisance. We need it though so oh well. What do you think of my poem? 

Bedtime Books Tag

  Sup peeps?

Greetings friends!

Aloha!

Hi!

Today I'll be doing a book tag.

I was tagged by Kathryn.

This looks like a fun tag! I love to read at night, I do so before I go to sleep almost every night. A lot of times I get caught reading past midnight... Bad habit when you have to get up for school at 6.

To the questionios!

1. A BOOK THAT KEPT YOU UP ALL NIGHT.

THE NEPTUNE PROJECT. Oh my gosh... I pretty much read this in one sitting. It was amazing and just- YES.

2. A BOOK THAT MADE YOU SCARED TO SLEEP.

I usually don't read scary books. This one is hard. Let me think... hmm... |

OH I KNOW. NIGHT. This was so creepy! It gave me chills. I can't believe all that really happened. (It's about the holocaust) 

3. A BOOK THAT MADE YOU GO TO SLEEP.

The Hobbit. Sorry Tolkien fans, just... *starts snoring*

4. A BOOK THAT LEFT YOU TOSSING AND TURNING ALL NIGHT IN ANTICIPATION OF ITS RELEASE.

I waited SO LONG for A Grimm Warning! Chris Colfer is big on cliff hangers.

5. A BOOK THAT HAS YOUR DREAM BOYFRIEND/GIRLFRIEND

I have sooooo many. Book people are way better than real people. Let's see... My top 3 are...

1. Peeta

2. Grover

3. Bumblestripe

(Yes 2/3 of those aren't human...)

Bleh. No picture/drawing/movie photo is anywhere near how I imagined him.

Yup, he's a cat.

6. A BOOK THAT WOULD BE YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE TO LIVE IN.

The Hunger Games and pretty much any other dystopian. People like to write about the future being awful, don't they?

7. A BOOK THAT REMINDS YOU OF NIGHT TIME.

I've been thinking about this for like twenty minutes and I just don't know so... I don't know. Ummmmmmmm.... You know what, instead of an answer you're getting a picture of my dog.

Sleepy Mia.

8. A BOOK THAT HAD A NIGHTMARISH CLIFFHANGER.

Like I said, every single Chris Colfer book has an awful, horrible, EVIL cliff hanger.

9. A BOOK YOU ACTUALLY DREAMED ABOUT. 

I don't think I've dreamed about a book???? How is that?! That is soooo weird. 

10. A BOOK MONSTER YOU WOULDN’T WANT TO FIND UNDER YOUR BED.

A dementor. Voldemort. Fluffy. Why is Harry Potter so scary?!

I tag...

Anyone who'd like to do this!

I'd feel bad if I missed someone.

And that's all for today folks!

Hope you enjoyed this tag!

Ode To Horses

Hi! 

I had to write an Ode for reading homework. Weird that it wasn't in english class, isn't it? Anyway, here it is. 

Ode to Horses

Powerful hooves beat the ground.

Flowing tails glide through the air.

Like a bullet, they gallop by.

They are soaring eagles when they run.

Clippety clop. Clippety clop.

The sound of their hooves is soothing.

Quiet whinnies sound from the stalls,

their warm breath is like a whisper of reassurance.

Gently eyes and a soft nose.

The smell of hay is faint and sweet.

Tails swish from side to side like old clocks, 

I smile. 

Do you like it? 

P.S: I won't be posting A Lost World anymore since nobody read it.