Merry Christmas!!

Merry Christmas guys!!! and thanks so much for reading our posts! You guys are awesome!!
 -Kelsie and Emma

The Misadventures of dear Allyson round one

The Misadventures of dear Allyson round one

 

Ally burst through the door of the house she and her friends were sharing, skipping every other step on her way up to the family room, where she knew her friends would be waiting. She burst in, causing Gavin to half throw his book across the room, and Finian to jerk awake with a start.

“Guys, guess what! I got my drivers permit!!” She squealed, jumping up and down. The boys stared at her for a minute, and then jumped to their feet. Gavin moved in for a hug, but Finian beat him over there.  He looked his female friend over a few moments, from her drenched hair to her hand clenched tightly around a very short handled umbrella.

“It’s raining, huh?” He thought out loud. What makes you think that you’d make a safe driver Ally? You stink at Mario Cart!” Ally pointed the umbrella at him angrily.

“Take. That. Back.” She snarled.  Gavin blanched, glancing nervously between his two friends.

“What, or you’re gonna beat me up with that puny umbrella? I’m only telling the truth! I refuse.”

“It’s retractable.” The girl glared, and pressed a little button by her fingers. The top part of the umbrella shot out, bopping Finian in the face hard enough to drop him to the ground.  

Gavin simply stood and stared at him for a few moments before turning anxiously to face his girlfriend. She retracted the umbrella and pointed it at him instead.

“And what do you have to say?”           

“I k-knew you could do it! I’m s-so proud!” He managed a shaky smile. The girl hugged him, turning again into the silly version of Ally.

“Yay! I’m gonna go eat lunch now! See ya!” With this she ran back downstairs, leaving her boyfriend in the dust. Gavin stood frozen a bit longer, than turned, sat back down on the couch, and resumed reading his book.

Not in MY kitchen you don't.

Once, a few years before the adventures of Lucy and Flyn, three children made their way into the arms of the Orange gang.  Their names were Seymour, Ted, and Ratchet. Now, Ratchet was a quiet fellow, and tended to stay closer to his younger brother, Ted.  But Seymour was a trouble maker. He loved nothing more than to pick fights and make fun of the other kids. The boy was small, but he had a large mouth. His favorite target was none other than Ratchet’s little brother.

The left side of little Ted’s face was covered in bandages, chin to forehead. The boys had been in a fire, one that had killed their parents. The disaster had left them injured, and without a friend in the world. Ted was set in shock, and never talked to anyone except his brother; and then only if they were alone. Ratchet was his constant companion. Since Seymour was afraid of Ratchet, he left Ted well enough alone. Except for one day.

The Blue gang had staked out an area at a nearby town and was stealing any valuables they could get their hands on. Bossie and Flyn had decided to act on it, to confront the leader before it got too bad, and they had asked Ratchet to join him. The teen had only reluctantly agreed. They set off early, leaving Ted in the care of the cook, Dinah.

Dinah was a simple minded fellow, with his rules set in stone and written in neat handwriting on the bulletin board.  Everyone knew his rules. Well, almost everyone. The new kids hadn’t quite memorized them yet.

About an hour after Ratchet left, Seymour slunk into the kitchen. Dinah was doing the dished in the corner, while Ted was slowly stirring a pot of soup. They were the only people around. Seymour immediately walked over to Ted.

“What’s up, freak?” Seymour sneered. “Busy doing nothing useful? You can’t do anything right, I hope you know. That’s why nobody talks to you.  Nobody likes you. How does that make you feel huh?”

“…”

Dinah stepped forward, a medium sized steel pot in his hand.

“That’s enough Seymour. Get out of my kitchen.” Seymour rolled his eyes.

“I’m not talking to you; I’m talking to the freak. Not like he’s going to talk back, he’s just a-“

Dinah swung the pot, connecting to the side of Seymour’s head with an echoing CLANG. The boy crumpled, rubbing his head. He spent a few moments to refocus his eyes before standing up and glaring at Dinah.

“I hate to hit you, but I have a rule against bullying, and you broke it. Not only that, you also refused to get out of my kitchen. I’m giving you another chance. Leave.”

“You hit me!! I’m going to kill you! I’ll kill you and the freak. You stupid-“ CLANG! Seymour collapsed again, but this time he stayed down. Dinah glared at the prone figure and rubbed at a scratch on his pot.

“There’s no cursing in my kitchen either.” He turned back to Ted, who was looking at him with a mix of awe and fear. “You alright kid?” Ted nodded. “He won’t be allowed back in here, so if he’s ever bothering you, just tell me, okay?” the boy nodded again.  Then, as Dinah turned back to the bread he’d been making, he heard a small whisper.

“Thank you.”

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!!! thank you so much for watching our blog! Everyone have a wonderfull day and eat too much food! >_<   =D

"No sky a gray backdrop merely and absence
and below: the scraggle of dusty fronds, the scrub oak and scrub jay
whose abrasive noises sharpen in response.
Shadows proliferate in deep furrows no sky above
merely a scrim registering conical thrusts, a heightened flurry &
outlines of branches, the dead ones slowly petering out.
magnificent ruin the cut through the field blasted chaparral
As I understand my job, it is, while suggesting order, to make things appear as
much as possible to be the way they are in normal vision.
An unvoiced series of sentences, without articulation,
with gray shapes, formulating a syntax loosening and then tightening from edge
to edge.
The frame sets a border down from which a thin straggle hangs at random &
like purposeful intrusion, and so unlike
and the interstate (in the title) missing from the photograph itself
merely a dry riverbed, the density of shadows trapped in the confusion
of bush and bush-like tree
except from higher up than the rest, its thin trunk arched against
no sky
colorless, less often remarked upon, appositely emotionless these days,
a relic, like the fan palm living at the edges of water."

No Sky

after Robert Adams's California: Views

WHY YOU AND ME NO USE THIS AT SAME TIME?! IT'S ALWAYS JUST YOU OR JUST ME! AAAAAAAAAAAAUUGH!!!! DEUAEUAEGH!!!

Wanderer "He snickers from the treetop"

I could hear the sounds of their footsteps below me, angrily searching in the night. Every once in a while, I could see the silhouette of the pudgy soldiers through the tree branches; every now and then catch a glimpse of their lamplight.

                “Did anyone find him?!” I heard a man shout across the foggy wilderness. He skulked into my line of vision, his presence boastful, like a man of power. Probably a general, I thought to myself. To his side rushed this mousy man, who shook his head.

                “No sir,” He said in a painfully nasal voice. “We’ve searched the perimeter up and down, general. No sign of him.” I smirked to myself at the name ‘general’. Knew it.

                The general growled furiously, storming to the trunk of the tree. “How could we be so careless?! I can’t believe we lost him again!” He roared, lashing out and punching the tree. He winced at the pain in his hand and clutched his fist close to his chest.

                ‘That’s not nice,’ I thought sarcastically, ‘what did the poor tree ever do to you?’ I silently chuckled at my own joke.

                “Do you want the others to keep up the search?” The other man asked, turning to leave.

                “No, it’s no use.” I crossed my arms triumphantly as he spoke. “Once Rue Hinton is gone, he’s gone. He could be right under our noses and we’d never find him.”

                ‘Or right above them.’ I mouthed, thoroughly amused by the whole situation.

                “What are we going to do about the plans?” The mousy man asked. “You know, he’s going to kill us when he finds out it was stolen, especially by Rue. How can we tell him we lost the el-”

                “Shut up, moron!” He hissed, looking back and forth. Wow. This whole thing seemed like a bad storybook to me. “You and I are the only two soldiers ALIVE that know about those plans. No one else can know.” He gave exhausted look at the smaller man and turned to leave.

                “Sorry…” the latter replied, scurrying off behind the general.

                I had to stifle a laugh as the rest of the troops headed back to their little town. I had to hand it to the Victorian President; he had a knack for hiring the “smartest” people I have ever met.  I counted each man as they passed below me until the last of them walked by. All of them were talking about the “legendary” Rue Hinton, which, in itself, was hilarious to me. A legend was the last thing I thought of myself as.

 I took the contents of my pocket out; a small notebook made of hardbound leather, a few crumpled up dollar bills, five bluish coins, and the paper I’d just stolen from the guards. I held it up to look at it. It was folded in thirds and marked with the Victorian seal of confidence. I opened it, looked at the drawings and plans on it inside, and closed it again. It didn’t mean much to me; I had no idea what it was talking about. I didn’t know exactly what to do with it, but I knew I needed to get it from the Victorians. They can’t have this kind of information for themselves. “Wait.” I remembered, “Didn’t my father leave me a note explaining exactly who I should go to?”

I stuffed all of it back into my pocket except for the book. I flipped it open and began to leaf through the pages, looking for the writing I knew was my father’s. Finally I found it; a yellowed paper fell from the binding of the book. It was unmistakably my father’s handwriting. In his elegant but still masculine handwriting was scrawled a note I’d seen many times before.

Rue,

I know that by the time this note means anything to you, I will likely have been gone for several years. I want you to remember this; if you ever find you need a spark to find your way and I’m not around, find Arthur Docherty. He’ll be able to help you, no matter what. He lives in the Punk region. I have faith that you will be able to find him in your ‘darkest’ hour.

                        ~ Dad.

  “Huh,” I said. “I’m actually not far from the Punk region, I think.” I jammed the book back into my pocket and sighed. “Guess I’ll try to find this ‘Docherty’ guy tomorrow, ask him about it.”

                I relaxed amidst the tree branches and took my pan flute from my other pocket.  I knew it would be a long night, high up here in this tree. It wouldn’t be safe to come down until the next morning, so instead I leaned against the tree and tipped my hat down over my eyes. I played a melody with the pan flute quietly to myself. ‘Ah,’ I thought to myself, ‘Sleeping in treetops. My favorite.’

"If i could fall into the sky, do you think time would pass me by?"

Wandering Prologue, if you want

                      I got asked, well, begged really, by Kels, to add something i wrote. Probably what's fair, comsidering i havent been here in who knows how long. I apologize! This is the prologue to my story, "Wandering".Here you are! ~ Emma

              I wish that the people who lived before me weren’t such morons. I mean, I didn’t personally know them, but all I’ve heard since before I remember is about how badly they destroyed our world. I remember, when I was around four years of age, and I heard for the first time about something called electricity. My father told me humans hundreds of years ago depended on it so much, whatever it was, that every source of it was exhausted by their greed. People never had stopped trying to find other ways to make practical amounts of electricity. Never did they succeed. But this time, I knew, that it would be different. I had the plans I needed, taken directly from the Victorian Government itself.

The Misadventures of Poor Finian Round Four

The Misadventures of Poor Finian Round Four

 

“ Achoo!”

“Bless you.”

“A-a-achoooo!’

“You too.” Finian sighed, leaning over a crockpot in the kitchen of the trios shared apartment. His friends were sick, probably the flu or something. Due to his superior immune system, however, Finian had gotten off scot-free! Lucky him. That means he had to take care of them. And so he stood. 

He’d tied Allyson’s light red apron around his neck, and a chef’s hat had been forced upon his head. It was lunch time, or would be after the stew was done. He’d gone for a beef stew, with fresh cut potatoes and carrots from his garden out back. He had hand chosen the herbs and spices for use from a natural food store down the road. In short, it was just about perfect.

Finian turned around to the stove, and opened the door to peer at his garlic bread. The butter had melted into the crusty bread, soaking the ground garlic and salt into it. He nodded in approval and turned the stove off.

“Hey! Sick people to the table. Hurry up, or it’ll get cold!” He laid out two bowls and forks (it was stew after all) and set a piece of the toast beside them. Then he ladled spoonfulls of the thick broth, veggies, and meat into their bowls.

Two figures shuffled into the kitchen, an ice pack on Ally’s head and a blanket wrapped around Gavin. They slumped down in their respective seats and glared suspiciously at their meals. Gavin poke cautiously at a chunk of meat and raised an eyebrow at Finian, seeming to ask a usually rather important question. Finian sighed.

“Yes it’s edible. Eat.” Gavin closed his eyes and shoved a spoonful into his mouth. His eyes flashed open and a look of complete contentment settled over his features. He sighed in ecstasy.

“Finian… why didn’t you ever tell us you could cook this good? This stew is phenomenal!” Finian smiled lightly, but shrugged off the complement. The only reason he didn’t cook was ‘cause he was too lazy.  The boys looked over to their companion.

Allyson was wolfing down her stew, not letting a drop escape her grasp. A few seconds later, She held out an empty bowl.

“Refill.” She demanded. Awed, Gavin scooped another serving in. Not even ten seconds later the bowl, re-emptied, was again held out.

“I think you’ve had enough.” Finian muttered, and moved to take the bowl away.

STAB

“Aiiiiiiiiiii!!!!!” Finian withdrew his hand and rubbed it in pain. “You stabbed me! With a fork!”

“Refill.”

“Y-yes ma’am.

The misadventures of Gavin round 1

Gavin nervously sat down in a booth near the middle of the restaurant. This was his solution to “Wooing his fair maiden”, inviting her to dinner. True, it wasn’t entirely his idea, Finian had suggested not letting Allyson cook. Gavin reminded himself to think him later.

A bell tinkled and Gavin sat ramrod straight as the object of his affection walked in. Allyson had dressed nicely for the night, (by nicely he means she brushed her hair and put on a dress shirt.) and Gavin found himself unable to stop staring. She sat down across from him, smiling and picking up the menu. Who knows how long later, the waitress showed up, breaking Gavin out of his trance. He quickly ordered a sweet tea, and turned back to Allyson.

“S-so, how are you?” He blurted out.  She giggled.

“Gavin, what’s with you? I saw you not twenty minutes ago. Are you sick? Your face is red.” Gavin’s blush increased. Luckily the waitress came back with their drinks, and Gavin promptly gulped some of it down.

“So, what can I get for you two?” The waitress asked.

“M-macaroni and c-cheese for me, p-please ma’am.”  Gavin stuttered. She turned to Allyson.

“Chicken noodle soup please!” Gavin secretly wondered if Allyson had an off button when it came to soup. Probably not.  Ally grinned at him.

“So, how did you manage to convince Finian to stay at home anyway? He really loves going out to eat! I don’t see why when I am perfectly good at making dinner, but…” Gavin, recently recovered from his last blushing spree, half choked on his drink and reddened.

“I-I um, really, really wanted to eat out, w-with just you. I wanted to t-talk to you. I g-guess Finian understood that.” The poor boy cocked his head, a shaky grin on his face.

“Hmm. I suppose that makes since. And what was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

“ I-I-I-I-I-I-I um… I l-lo-lov-“ 

“Here is your Mac and Cheese, and your Chicken Noodle Soup, can I get you anything else?”  Gavin banged his head down on the table in frustration, but gave a thumbs up at the waitress. “Alright, enjoy your meal!” The waitress nodded her head and left. Allyson poked Gavin’s head

“Gavin!” a muffled noise was heard. “What? I can’t hear you. Speak up. Gavin, what were you going to say?”The teen’s head shot up.

“I said I love you!” Gavin’s face went from bright red to pale in about three seconds. Ally’s dark skin flushed. “I-I… I said that out loud, d-didn’t I?

Pretentious lions

Oh, beware the lion that you see as pretentious,

As thinking itself to be unique and worthy of all attention.

For if you claim it to be preposterous,

It will most likely eat you.

...
...
...
What? It will!

Maple trees

The strange garb of a maple tree,

The fabrics and hues revolving

Through harsh and green, to red and soft

A myst’ry never solving.

The shore and the waves

Why must the waves, when moon doth call

Should leave the shore alone?

The rocky friend that never strays

Must watch it’s friend take flight.

But the shore stays at peace,

When the waves disappear

For it knows it’s trusted advisor will soon return.

The misadventures of poor Finian round three

Finian was pouting, to put it gently. He had just accidently figured out that Gavin, his best friend, had a crush on Allyson, his other best friend.  And to make matters worse, Finian himself had a crush on her. So where does this leave him? Pouting.

“Stupid Gavin. Stealin’ my girl. Best friends don’t do that! It’s rude. ‘Sides, I saw her first. I get dibs.” The door to his room creaked and Finian dropped the pillow he’d been strangling. Gavin stood in the doorway, looking slightly upset. Gavin didn’t show emotions often, so it was hard to tell. 

“Finian? A-are you mad at me?” Finian didn’t answer, just looking guiltily at the floor. “Finian, I can’t help it if I like her… You can’t choose who you like. But I know you like her too… So… If you want me to… I’ll stop trying to get her to like me.” Finian looked up, startled.

“Hey, you can’t just-“

“I don’t want to make you angry again Finn. You and Ally are the only friends I’ve ever had.” Finian sighed, shaking his head.

“It’s awfully hard to stay mad at you Gavin.” Finian stood up and held a fist over the other hand, open in a palm. “Rock paper scissors for her then?” Gavin cocked his head to the side.

“What’s that?” Finian gaped like a fish for a few moments, before snapping out of it.

“You’ve never played rock paper scissors?”

“No.” Finian sighed again.

“What am I going to do with you? Okay. This is how you play. Paper looks like this.” Finian holds his hand flat, all his fingers out. “Rock is this.” He holds out a fist. “and Scissors looks like this.” He made snipping motions with two of his fingers. “Got it so far?”

“I think so.”

“Alright then, I’m gonna say ‘Rock Paper Scissors Shoot!’ and you have to put your hand like one of those. Rock beats scissors, scissors beats paper, paper beats rock. Okay?” Gavin nodded. “Oh, and no mind reading, got it?” He gave the telepath a soft glare. The boy simply smiled, nodding once more. “Alright then, Rock Paper Scissors Shoot!”

Finian looked at their hands. He himself had gone for paper, and Gavin had gone for- “S-scissors?!?” Finian yet again found himself gaping like a fish. “O-okay, that was just a practice round. Let’s try again. Rock Paper Scissors Shoot!” this time he went for rock, and Gavin went for… paper?! “B-best three out of five?”

Twenty rounds later, Finian felt like crying. He hadn’t won once. He bowed his head in defeat.

“Fine. You win. You can try to win her heart.” The brightest grin Finian had ever seen lit up Gavin’s face. 

“Thank you Finian! Thank you so much!”

“But you’ve gotta make dinner for a month.”

“What? Why?”

“Do you really want to let Allyson keep making dinner?”

“…”

“I didn’t think so.”

I'd like to...

I’d like to dream tonight.

I’d like to swing my feet over the pit of my imagination, to rediscover the beauty of flight.

I’d like to remember the past, to excavate lost memories

I’d like to hope about the future and pray for things to last.

I’d like to battle for my pride, my joy, my beliefs, and never have to stop from weariness or doubt.

I’d like to sing and dance, to dig up lost treasures, and investigate lost friends.

I’d like to not understand, to have a puzzle to solve, but no real force to solve it.

I’d like to paint out my dreams on a canvas, for people to see and understand.

I’d like to be the bravest bodyguard, to lay down my life repeatedly for the greatest causes and loyalties.

I’d like to dream tonight, if only for a little while.

Woot!

First of all, we reaced 2300 veiws!!! That's awesome!! Second, today's the Herrell/Anderson/Cooper reunion!! It's gonna be so much fun! I'll try to get pics, kay? ^_^

Moonlight on the hill

This is a short story I wrote a while back, from the perspective of a teeenage boy named Kasey. I hope you all like it!

 

 

I closed the screen door quietly, as to not wake my parents, and ran silently up to that hill between our lands. You were waiting for me there, your pretty brown curls falling softly to your shoulders, and your green eyes almost laughing at me. The moon shone down. My bare feet brought me over to you, across the soft grass of spring.

“May I have this dance?” I asked.

                I bowed, and you curtsied, holding out your hand. I took it in my own, and smiled, putting my other hand on your waist, as you placed yours on my shoulder. And we began to dance.  The moonlight shone down on your face, as the wind picked up around us, twirling and blowing at your hair. Suddenly you grabbed my hand and we began to spin in a fast pace, the wind singing in our ears and our bare feet pounding the ground. In A moment of pure ecstasy the world just melted into a blur and all I could see was you.

                Then we were on the ground, laughing and grinning madly, our moment vanished by a foot caught in the grass. We leaned back against our tree, and you still held my hand. Suddenly, an idea came to me.

                “Taffy?”

                “Yeah?”

                ”Would you mind if I carved our initials in this tree?” I asked almost shyly. I don’t see why though, I’ve known you since we were little. Then you hugged me and stood up, pointing at a clear spot in the wood.

                “I always thought this would be a good place!” I pulled out my pocket knife, and painstakingly carved your and my initials. T. E. and K. H. Tabitha Evans and Kacey Holt. I stood back to admire my work, but you pulled on my arm.

                “You’re not done yet Kacey! You still need to do something!!!!” I looked at you curiously, I couldn’t figure out what else you wanted me to carve. “You need to draw a heart around them…” You trailed off, staring at the ground and blushing. You always looked cute when you blushed.

                I reached back up and cut a heart around our initials into the tree’s soft bark, then leaned back and took your hand.

                “It’s wonderful!” You whispered, while I just smiled. I couldn’t agree more.

 

 

 

~Kels

 

 

i finally found it!!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wQhCNOV5Gnk&feature=related 
This is a song stright from my memories, readers! If any of you would post your favorite songs from when you were little, I'll gladly put them up! (as long as they're appropriate of course!)

1000 by Kels

I would make a thousand paper cranes,
to get a single wish.
I'd cook a thousand tomatoes,
to get a simple dish.
i'd pick a thousand daisies,
to make a single chain.
But with a thousand searchlights,
you could'nt find my brain.

=P

The misadventures of poor finian round two

Finian sat slumped over slightly in his chair. His head resting on his crossed arms. His fingers tapped out a tune on the dinner table as His friends made dinner in the kitchen. He was hoping for some pasta, or cooked veggies. Anything edible would suit him just fine. The recent addition to their group, Gavin, was helping Allyson cook so it should be fine, right? Right?

            “Dinner time!” Allyson called out cheerfully. Gavin walked in, carrying a large metal pot, it’s lid clenched down tight. He set it down on the table and nodded politely at Finian. Finian returned the gesture and sat up to grab the lid off the top. Whack! Allyson hit him with a wooden spoon. Finian, used to the antics of the girl, just re took his seat.

“Alright! For supper today, I was going to make pot roast, but together me and Gavin made a um…. What was the word again?”

“Bilateral.” Gavin said softly. He didn’t speak often.

“That’s it! We made a bilateral agreement to make soup instead!” Finian blanched. He stared at Gavin across the table and shot the mind reader a thought. Are you insane?? And what’s up with the fancy word?

Gavin shrugged and smiled at Allyson. What can I say? She really wanted to make soup. I helped her with it, so it can’t be that bad. Bilateral means “having two sides” so I thought it was fitting. Gavin was raised in a rich home, so really it was no surprise to Finian that he knew ‘smart people talk’.

Allyson, looking back and forth at her friends, wondered what they were talking about, but didn’t question it.

“Okay then, let’s eat!” She whipped off the lid. The soup inside was a light pink, with toxic looking chunks of unidentifiable veggies, and something Finian really hoped was meat. He glared at Gavin who looked shocked. I…I do not understand, it looked perfectly edible a moment ago! Finian shook his head sadly. Both of the boys were in for another rough mealtime.

Tthhhuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrsssssssddddddaaaaaaaaaaaaaayy~

As some of you guys may know, I (Kelsie speaking) am homeschooled. As of last week, I joined a homeschool co-op place. It's called Thursday Connection. I'm going to be doing two classes there, Latin and Fencing! As in, sword fighting fencing! I had my first classes last thursday. It was so much fun!! The latin class was awesome, my teacher is very nice. Fencing is hard work, but I need some exercise. I'm also most likely doing Yearbook club, I'm hoping to be a journalist there. I havent had a meeting yet. Wish me luck!!!!

-Kels

A light in the dark, Chapter three

Chapter Three

 

Allyson sat down on her couch, pulling a hefty book off the table beside her into her lap. She sighed, and fingered the bookmark quietly; the book had no appeal now. All of the letters simply jumbled around in her head, mixing with images of the bird boy. Finian. She grabbed a pillow and squeezed it, hard. She had, of course, already managed to develop a crush on him. He was handsome. She thought, blushing a bit.

Those bright green eyes, that dashing brown hair, and Oh! He was soo tall! She giggled loudly, the pillow quite crushed in her arms. The sound of gravel crunching outside dragged her attention to the window. Her parents’ blue van was coming up the driveway. Allyson squeaked, threw the pillow across the room and snapped her book open to a random page. She began scanning it, like she was reading it. A couple of agonizing minutes later, her parents walked into the room, dripping a bit from the rain outside.

Allyson froze. She had forgotten; she was still wet from dragging Finian to the barn! Allyson darted up the stairs to her room, yelling “Hi mom! Hi Dad!” behind her. She hurriedly changed out of her damp clothes and into her soft pajamas, and raced back downstairs.

“Sorry!” she said, a smile plastered on her face. “I sprayed myself in the face with the spray nozzle thingy while doing the dishes!” She held up a strand of droopy black hair to demonstrate. It dripped approvingly. Her mother rolled her eyes and smiled, setting her purse down on the table. Her father grinned and laughed.

“That’s my girl!” He rubbed a hand through her hair, making the shortest parts stand on end.

“Daaad!” She complained, attempting to put her hair back in place. “Don’t do that!!” He chuckled, a deep noise. She smiled, a bit grudgingly, and looked at her watch.

“Well, I was just about to go to bed, so, Goodnight!!” She dipped her head to kiss her mom on the cheek, and stood on tiptoe to do the same to her dad. They looked a bit puzzled, but returned the gesture. She grinned, and with another “’night!!” She raced back up the stairs and shut the door behind her. Collapsing on her bed, Allyson sighed in relief, looking up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on her ceiling. She traced patterns in her head, and fell asleep thinking about angels and lightning.

A Man stood quietly at a gas station, under the protective covering the gas pumps provided. He scowled as he dialed a number on his cell phone, pressing the speed dial, impatiently tapping his foot as the speaker rang. After a few droning hums, the line clicked and then a man’s voice answered.

“What is it?”

“It’s me, Jonathan Briggs, sir.” Mr. Briggs pulled the trench coat he was wearing more tightly around him.

“Did you get the boy?” The sharp voice snapped, sounding metallic and irritated.

“Um… There was a problem.”

“What?” the voice almost literally growled.

“It started raining. I got the boy down, but then it started raining. I had to get back to my car or I’d sizzle. I already have a few burns on my arms.” Mr. Briggs sighed, rubbing at a red spot on his wrist.

“You are not returning until you retrieve the boy, do you understand me?” The voice yelled and the man in the trench coat held his cell phone a bit away from his ear.

            “Yessir.”

            “And hurry up!”

            “Yessir.” The line went dead. Mr. Briggs sighed again and looked over at his reflection in the mirror. He was fairly tall, with light brown hair, green eyes, and a thick mustache. Not very villain-like. He, however was more concerned about the dark bags under his eyes. He poked at them and groaned. “I really need a vacation.”

 

 -Kels

Loyal, Chapter Three part 1

Steven woke to a slimy touch on his hand, a rough rubbing that made his hair want to stand on end. He cracked his eye open, and stared at a large golden retriever that was currently licking his hand. With a jolt he sat up, gasping softly at his the pain in his arm. He looked around, trying to get his bearings, and noticed the empty bowl of soup. Memories of the day before returned and he snapped his head around to find the girl. She was nowhere in sight. Her scarf lay crumpled at the feet of the dog.

Steven rubbed his eyes, and patted the dog softly on the head.  He struggled to his feet, swaying a bit as his head went fuzzy. The dog ran circles around his feet, obviously excited, but didn’t make a sound. Steven knelt down in front of it.
                “Do you know where that girl went?” He asked it, looking around again. The dog seemed to cock it’s head slightly, and grabbed the scarf from by its feet. Steven took the end of it in his hand and attempted to pull it away. The dog pulled back. Tugging harder than Steven could fight; the dog dragged him by the scarf, out of the door and into a dark alleyway.  Swerving around trashcans and parked cars, Steven eventually found himself back in the alley where he had been knocked out. The dog released her (for Steven had finally thought to look) end of the scarf.

“Where you the dog they were hurting girl?” Steven asked, absently scratching behind the dog’s ears. The dog merely nuzzled her nose into his sleeve to reply. He chuckled and searched the fur on her neck for a collar. None. “I doubt you could tell me your name, pup?” He smiled. “Would you like to come with me?” The dog rubbed her head affectionately into his hand and he began walking backto his apartment.

“I suppose I will call you… Marigold. Is that good?” He could have sworn the dog smiled.

hello readers! wherever you are!

I (kelsie) wrote an essay for a college application, and was wondering if you guys would vote for it. here is a link to the site. Thanks!!!

http://scholarships.collegeplus.org/essays/75-to-be-a-writer


^_^

A light in the dark ch. 2 by Kels

Chapter two

            Slowly, the boy cracked open his eyes, only to come face to face with a sheet of paper. He froze. It said:

Dear Angel guy,

Don’t move a muscle. You crashed into my backyard and hurt your wing. I patched it up, but I don’t want to come back and see you’ve messed it up again. I went to go make some soup, I’ll be back soon. Stay put.

-Allyson

        He blinked, once, twice, before slowly craning his head to look around him. He was in an old barn, dry hay was stacked up around him, and a few abandoned wasps nests and piles of dust were scattered nearby.  He tried to turn around, but held back at a twinge of pain in his wing.

            “Hey.” A voice came from behind him, and he flinched and attempted to turn around. But he knocked his wing against a barrel, making him groan loudly in pain. The voice sighed. “I thought I told you not to move. Can’t you read?” A hand on his back made him freeze again, but instead of hurting him, it slowly helped him up. The hands led him to a stool and table, where a bowl of soup sat steaming slightly.

            As soon as he sat down, he turned to face his rescuer. She was a pretty girl, with mocha colored skin and dark brown hair. She was smiling kindly at him and her hazel eyes were full of warmth. She was casually dressed, in a blue shirt with sleeves that reached her elbows, and comfy looking blue jeans. She grinned at him and pointed to the soup.

“Eat up, I know you’re hungry!” She sat down across from him and leaned her chin on her hands. She watched him curiously, before cocking her head to the side. “I didn’t imagine your eyes to be blue. I thought they’d be brown.” He kept staring. “What’s wrong, don’t you like soup?” He shook his head, clearing out the millions of questions zooming around in his head like a beehive. He picked up the spoon and smiled softly at her.

He took a sip.

And gagged, attempting not to spit it back out. The soup was awful! She had added way too much salt and the chicken was still frozen in the middle. He swallowed (with much effort) and smiled.

“Ah… Um... It’s very unique! Never tasted anything like it!” And I hope I never will again! He added silently. She beamed and nodded.

“I’m glad you liked it! I made it myself! There’s more if you want some!” He blanched.

“N-No, this is fine! Uh… I take it you’re Allyson? She nodded.

“Allyson Woods. How is your wing?”

“A bit painful but I think it’s fine. You don’t seem near as freaked out as you should be.” She nodded slowly, as if thinking hard about something, Before shaking her head and sighing.

“I suppose I should tell you then. I can make it rain. Like, ask the clouds to drop the rain or hold it back. I’ve been able to since I was little. I just have to ask really hard in my head and pitter patter it starts raining. I can’t do it when there aren’t any clouds, but if it’s about to storm…” She trailed off, biting her lip and looking up hopefully. He nodded once and smiled again.

“Due to the circumstance, I’m really not one to talk about weird things, but you do have a cool power!” Her face lit up again.

“I’m glad you think so… Um… what’s your name again?” The boy hesitated a moment, but decided if Allyson could trust him, he could trust her.

“My name is Finian. I want to thank you for helping me, but I’m afraid I should leave. I do not wish for the man in the dark coat to return here looking for me.” Finian stood to bow, but the pain in his wing and a large bruise on his side left him gasping in pain. He collapsed back into the straw.

Allyson rushed around the table to his side, checking the bandages on his wing. Then she smiled at him, and smacked him upside the head with a loud WHAP.

“Ow!” He yelped, clutching his head. “Whatever did you hit me for?”

“I thought I told you to be careful! You could have hurt what little bones you haven’t already bruised!” At this he started pouting, rubbing his head and glaring at her. “Besides, I don’t think trench coat man will be back until it stops raining, and I think I can keep it going for another day at least.” Finian sighed and took the hand Allyson offered to be helped up. She took him back over to his makeshift bed and pulled the blanket back over him.

“I have to get back inside now.  My parents will be coming up the driveway any minute now.  I’m not supposed to be outside while it’s storming. Or at night. Or when my parents aren’t home. So yeah, I’d get in big trouble.” She smiled before patting his head. “Goodnight my new patient! See you tomorrow.”

AS she turned to climb down the ladder, she heard Finian’s voice call out again.

“Thank you Allyson. Goodnight.”

Finian watched her back as she left, and smiled to himself. She was a nice girl. He only hoped she could treat wounds a lot better than she could cook.

A light in the dark

A light in the dark, Chapter one by Kels 

Allyson swung her legs back and forth, sitting on the porch railing outside her house. The sky looked dark, a promise for an upcoming storm. A few daring birds still darted above her, high up in the sky.  She was home alone, and was supposed to be inside, but the dark clouds had lured her out. She ran a hand through her dark brown hair, cut short and kept spikey. Her hazel eyes scanned the horizon, searching for the first raindrop to fall.

Suddenly, a bright flash and a loud BANG nearly knocked her from her seat. The lightning looked to have come from the field in front of her house. She held up the pair of binoculars she kept for bird-watching and put it to her eyes, scanning the field for signs of damage. A tall figure, dressed in a dark cloak was standing in the weeds. As she looked on, slightly concerned, the man raised his hand to the sky, and got struck by the lightning.

That sent Allyson scrambling off the wooden railing, running out into the field with her head low. She halted however, when she spotted the man again, still standing, not a bit crispy. He was staring at the birds flying overhead, and raised a hand again, pointing at the largest bird. The lightning struck again, but not as she had previously thought, but from his hand.

The bird dodged, its tail feathers narrowly missing the electric strike. One of the others was not so lucky however, and crashed to the ground. Allyson ducked behind a nearby apple tree as the man turned to look at the bird, poking at it with his foot. He turned back to the sky and took aim. BANG. The lightning struck the birds wing, and it plummeted in a tailspin to the ground, a tree braking its fall. The man turned and started walking towards it, if he kept going, he’d walk right past where Allyson was hiding. She started muttering.

“Rain. Rain now! Oh… RAIN!!”  A drop fell. Then another. The man glared at the sky, and flinched as a drop landed on his head. He swore and started running to his car, parked by the road, dodging drops the whole way.

The girl watched until he skidded away in his black van before scurrying over to where the bird had crashed. She launched up the tree, swinging up the branches like a monkey; she’d always loved climbing. She froze on the top branch. There, in the tree was a boy. A boy with wings.

He had his eye closed, and one of his wings was burnt and bent at an awkward angle, but he was handsome nonetheless. He had short brown hair, the bangs cut a bit jaggedly near his eyes; and his wings were tawny colored, with brown spots.  His clothes were ragged and soaked from the rain, and even knocked out his face was twisted in pain.

“An angel!” She whispered, and stared for a few minutes, until a distant lightning bolt made her snap back to attention. She bent down and carefully pulled him up and over the branches. With careful attention to his injured wing, she climbed back down, nearly falling out twice.

Finally they made it to the ground, and headed to the house before pausing. If mom and dad find him in my room… she turned toward the barn, and half carried half dragged the “angel” inside. She hoisted him into the loft, where her parents never went, and set him down on a pile of straw. Then she ran back to the house and grabbed some essential things.

Allyson sped back up the ladder, dragging a basket behind her. She spread out a thick comforter on the straw, and rolled the boy on top of it, upside down. Carefully, she pulled the wing into her lap.

The damage was clear. There was a large wound in the side, slightly charred and bleeding slightly. A couple of feathers were gone, but it didn’t feel broken. She cleaned the wound with some disinfectant, and carefully wrapped it in gauze.

Packing up the medical equipment, she tucked another blanket around him, put a pillow under his head, (making sure he could breathe) and climbed back down the ladder.

short story for school (snickers) poor finian

The misadventure of Finian. By Kels

“Finian!! I’m coming up!!”

Allyson climbed into the loft, Dragging a bowl of soup up the ladder behind her. She sat it on the table and waved her friend Finian over to sit down. Without a word he perched on his stool, tracing designs on the table with his fingers. She sat across from him and smiled, dipping her spoon into the soup. Finian watched her with interest, twiddling his thumbs and kicking his feet.

“What’s got you all twitchy?” Allyson questioned, the spoon inches from her mouth.

“Er… Nothing Ally! Just um… waiting to let you eat first!” To see if she keels over from poison. He added silently. She smiled and nodded, opening her mouth wide and putting the spoon in. Finian watched her swallow, a blank look on his face, his knee twitching up and down like a kid in a sugar coma.

She froze, and dropped her spoon. She looked up at Finian, her face frozen in a look of surprise. The boy dashed to his feet, and placed a hand on her back.

“Allyson!! ACK! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?!?! SPEAK TO ME!!!” Finian, wringing has hands, was almost running in circles when she suddenly laughed.

“This is the best soup I’ve ever made!!” Finian tripped, falling flat on his face, but she was too engrossed in her soup to notice. Cautiously he pulled himself up and onto his stool, picked uphis spoon and dipped in the slightly purple broth. Purple? This was supposed to be vegetable soup! He thought, glancing back up at his companion. She was wolfing it down, and surviving, so he guessed it must be safe. He tapped his fingers on the table nervously and picked up his spoon. Without leaving any room to argue, he shoved it in his mouth.

His scream of agony could be heard from miles away.

echoooo

Hey, anybody out there? If you still read this blog, leave a comment here for me, kay? I just wanna see who all actually reads this.

Loyal, ch. 1 by Kels

The last thing anyone wants to hear in the morning is their alarm clock. However, when that alarm clock runs out of batteries, it seems as if it’s all you ever depended on. Stephen banged his head on the table in front of him, and gazed forlornly at the toaster, now heating up a toaster strudel, the very last of his food supply. If it didn’t hurry up, He’d get fired and that would be the last of his pay check too.

Stephen hit the eject button and shoved the slightly cold pastry in his mouth, pulling away from the table and racing out the door. He locked it hastily and ran down the sidewalk, chewing his breakfast as he went. He had two minutes. Two minutes to make it to work. Two minutes to-

Stephen halted near the entrance to an alley way as the sounds of a boys laughing echoed back to him. They sounded like they were enjoying themselves, moreover, they sounded like they didn’t want to be caught. Stephen crept down the alley, and they’re words became clear.

“What’s wrong, you stupid mutt? Can’t afford to live?”

“Can’t you get those cans off your tail by yourself?”

“If you run away, we’ll just find you again.”

“Mutt.”

Two minutes, just two minutes and he’d get promoted, boss said so.

“Freak.”

He just had to step into the office and-

The sound of something alive being kicked reverberated through Stephen’s heart.

“Leave it alone!”

He flung himself down the alley, and head-butted the nearest teen in the stomach. The boy yelped in surprise and dropped, while another aimed a good kick at Stephen’s head. He ducked, punching at the boys, only to be thrown back by a sharp kick to the ribs. He coughed loudly, glaring at the two boys, who just stared back at him.

They were both rather rough looking, like they’d been in a fight recently, and even though they were clearly younger, they were taller and most likely stronger than him. One of them had a tattoo of a bulldog on his neck, partially hidden by his greasy black hair. The other was a blond, his hair pulled back in a ponytail and his fists had the letters: T H E M written out. Probably a gang logo. They smelled like beer.

Stephen lurched to his feet, wiping a thin trail of blood of his chin. He’d bit his tongue. The teens sneered and started walking towards him. Stephen brought his fists up to his chest, and eyed them wearily. The blond lashed out, an uppercut to the head, and Stephen ducked, kicking the boy’s knee as he went. His partner half roared and launched himself at Stephen, banging the others’ head into the wall with his fist.

Everything was covered instars for a moment, and he felt more blows falling on his chest and head. Then suddenly they stopped. The teens yelled something, but Stephen didn’t catch it. He heard them running away, then light footsteps coming towards him. A soft hand on his forehead brought him to open his eyes. He saw a pair of warm brown eyes gazing at him in alarm, and everything went black.

Wake up. Please wake up.  

Stephen blinked his eyes open. Everything looked soft around the edges, like looking through a cup of water. In fact- Stephen lifted his hand to his face and prodded above his face. Squishy. He sat up, a plastic bag full of water falling onto his lap. He raised an eyebrow at this, and peered around, looking for its’ owner. As he did, he managed to jar his left elbow.

“ARRRRGH!!!!!” He yelled, clutching the offending appendage.  It was wrapped in gauze, tied in a small bow at his wrist. Now he was really curious. How did he get here? Who- Suddenly a fairly tall figure stepped into sight.

It was a girl, around seventeen, with floofy gold hair curving in towards a soft chin. She was dressed in light red with darker red pants, and had a scarf tied loosely around her mouth. She cocked her head to the side and pointed to his arm.

“Umm… do you- are you the one who saved me?” Steven asked, his green eyes meeting her brown. She nodded and walked over to him. She cautiously put her hand on his uninjured shoulder.

“Is arm better?” Her voice sounded muffled, but he figured it was probably just the scarf. She had no accent, yet spoke like a two year old.  

“Er... Yeah. Um, I’m Steven, and you are…?” The girl just blinked at him and pulled a packet of marshmallows from behind her back. She placed them in his lap, and sat down on the floor, staring eagerly at him. At his failure to react, she tugged on his arm.

“Eat!!! You is hungry?” She blinked at him again with her huge brown eyes.

“Um… Sure? But you never told me your-“

“ Better food!”  and with that lengthy speech, she raced away. Steven sighed and rubbed his head with his good arm. What had he gotten himself into?

She came back a few minutes later, a cracked mug full of soup in her hands.

She closed her eyes and smiled, her head bowed and holding the soup right under Stevens nose. He reached to take it, but managed to jar his arm again. She drew her eyebrows together and frowned. (Or so Steven assumed, the scarf still covered her mouth.)

She carefully dipped the spoon, that she had brought along, into the soup and held it in front of his mouth. He hesitated, but the steady light in her eyes reassured him and he accepted it gratefully. The soup was a bit hot, but salty and filling. The smell in and of itself was intoxicating, but the taste was even better. It was chicken broth, but with something more, a combo of spices that made all the difference.

When the bowl was empty, Stephen was feeling tired, and after thanking the girl, he drifted into a deep sleep.