Merry Christmas guys!!! and thanks so much for reading our posts! You guys are awesome!!
-Kelsie and Emma
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Saturday, December 22, 2012
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.
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
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.”
Labels:
ficftion,
Kelsie,
Realistic Fiction,
stories,
writing
Thursday, November 22, 2012
HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!
Happy Thanksgiving everyone!!! thank you so much for watching our blog! Everyone have a wonderfull day and eat too much food! >_< =D
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
"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."
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
Monday, November 19, 2012
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.’
Friday, November 9, 2012
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.
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.
Saturday, November 3, 2012
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?
Friday, November 2, 2012
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!
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
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.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
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.”
Friday, October 12, 2012
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.
Saturday, October 6, 2012
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? ^_^
Monday, September 24, 2012
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
Sunday, September 9, 2012
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!)
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!)
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
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
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
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
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.
Monday, August 27, 2012
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
-Kels
Saturday, August 25, 2012
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.”
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.
“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.
Monday, August 20, 2012
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
^_^
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
^_^
Friday, August 17, 2012
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
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.
Monday, August 13, 2012
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.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
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.
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