Opps

I just realized something. If I tell people about this, then I can't type super-depressing stuff. Then I'll get dragged off to a counselor. :'( Oh well. I won't type depressing stuff then. :'( But that'll make me depressed... I'll just get angry on my angst blog... don't read my angst blog, please, people who read this.... DON'T DRAG ME TO THE COUNSELOR PEOPLEZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

NYAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Blaahh...

What am I supposed to do now? I'm just sitting here waiting for something to do because ultimately it's just Mrs. Reiber telling the 7th graders the stuff about the computer. I'm essentially just sitting here. And not doing anything. So I'm going to start typing a story. :D


I cry in the rain, collapsed inside of a slide tunnel. Tears drip down my cheeks as the tears of the sky pound outside. Pain lances my heart, and I can't focus. "He hates me... he hates me... he hates me... he hates me... he hates me..." that's all I can sob out as I tremble. Pain, pain, he hates me, pain, sorrow, depression, I can't take it...

Then a light shines in the dark, and my tear-swollen eyes look up and see...


Actually, I'll continue this later. I just remembered to check SoCNoC.... me failed. :'( :'( D': FAILURE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Story Bit typed from School

Hello everyone! Right now I'm at school, Writing Club to be exact. So now I' m typing from here and we have free type/write time, so I'm taking this time to start yet another new story. Don't hate me. I will attempt to write in 1st person, although I'm really bad at that.


I glare at the taller boy before me. "Why on earth should I trust you?"

The boy replied simply, "Because I'm your only hope."

Man, I wish I was taller. Like, two feet taller. Or three. My mom wasn't wrong in naming me Minia. For God's sake, how on earth did I end up being the only girl, no, the only person, at The School of Magic and Education who's only three feet tall?

"Lukas, I would trust you if I had a little tiny shred of reason to. But you haven't given me any." Since I'm a Seventh Year, I can't be lenient towards this person, even if he's a Ninth Year. We Seventh Years are taught to be strict. Actually, we start having to be strict in Sixth Year. But that's not the point.

Here, this is confusing. I'll just relate everything to you. Actually, that'd be too short for everything that happened. How about, you take a peek into my memory while I try to figure out how to wriggle out of trusting Lukas without sacrificing my little sister?

It started, oh, around three months ago.

"MO-OM!!!" I called. My mother woke up blearily. "What, hun?"

I replied rather testily, "You forgot to wake me up! Now Mr. Isaac will turn me into a bunny for the entire free period! I'll be munching on carrots for two whole hours!"

My little sister, who's amazingly sweet, adorable, and deadly, came downstairs then. "Nee-chan, why are you yelling at Ma?" she asked, rubbing her eyes blearily. She then stared at me with her eyes, which were a lovely golden brown today. Her hair, which was black for the day, fell down her shoulders, a cascade of liquid void-yness.

"She didn't wake me up! I'll be turned into a bunny!" I snapped. While her hair and eyes changed color at midnight every day, and her hair was eternally soft and beautiful, my hair was a simple red color, and it wasn't soft or long. It just barely reaches my shoulders. And it doesn't change colors. And plus my eyes are just a dull-ish green. My eyes aren't dull, they're quite lively in fact, but the color is not pretty at all. And they also remain the same color.

"Bunnies are cute, and the white ones are like warm snow that doesn't melt, like the kind you made yesterday when you were trying to make yourself a plush toy." My sister somehow seemed so innocent and cute even as she pointed out the fact that I utterly failed my homework.

I glared at her. "It's not my fault! Mr. Isaac gave me an insanely hard assignment!"

Sheina, my little sister in question, said, quite cutely with just barely an undercurrent of poison, "Nee-chan, I can do it." She held up a pure white, beautiful teddy bear with white wings made from fuzzy feathers. It emanated magic... How unfair! My little sister got every possible good trait. She's a genius, awesome at magic, cute, has a changing appearance that's never boring or ugly, and......... Yeah.

Next chappie of Blog-only story!

Next chappie! Sorry it took me so long! Anyways! I'm stealing a name from Tales of Symphonia for now, since I can't think of a good name for the boy...


"LLOYD!!!" She shrieked, falling further into the pit.

Suddenly, a boy, about a year older than her, swooped down on silver wings and caught her, flying back up the moment she was safely in his arms.

"Lloyd?" She questioned, then saw that it was not he, but Dauke.

Dauke's silver eyes watched her warily. He never spoke, writing down responses instead. No one knew if he was mute or simply chose not to speak.

"Where is Lloyd?" she asked, disquieted by Dauke's intent staring.

"He was too far to rescue you. I had to save you instead, or else you would have fallen into the clutches of Caocoa." He scrawled onto a notebook he always had, which was somehow still a pristine white although they were in the middle of a forest, albeit a false one.

Dauke had extremely tan skin, a dark bronze-ish color. His hair was black and slightly spiky, and his eyes were pure silver flecked with gold. He was of medium height, and his limbs were densely muscled. On his wrists and upper arms were black bands with steel spikes protruding from them. His shirt was crimson(and tight, allowing his six-pack [if that's what you call it] quite nicely), his pants were black, and overall he was handsome.

Then a cry of "Birdie!" rent the air, and a boy, about a year and a half older than the girl alighted on the ground. "Did you hurt her, Dauke? If you did, I'll never forgive you!"

Birdie shook her head quickly and said, "He saved me from one of Caocoa's traps, Lloyd. I owe him thanks."

Lloyd grunted. He was a true bishonen by all accounts, except for the lean muscle which was all over his body. His hair was a lovely, soft, wispy golden, while his eyes were a darker gold flecked with silver. He wore loose, white robes, and looked like a girl in every aspect except for his lean muscles, and calloused hands. His wings were pure white, except for a few feathers which were the same kind of gold as his hair.

The scratching of a pen on paper made her stop examining Lloyd, and she moved her attention to Dauke's notebook, on which was now neatly scrawled (if that even works...) "Brigandine, we need to get back to headquarters."

"Oh, yeah!" Birdie cried. Her full name was Brigandine Aspen FloysdeBerry, although why she was named after armor and a tree was beyond her. And her last name was plain weird. But still, that's what happens when your mother who abandoned you on the streets with a nametag with that very name was a senile weirdo and your father was a prostitute.


How is it? I finally updated. Now I need to update fanfiction and original fiction on Fictionpress. But I don't feel like it now. Maybe tomorrow.

Yet another new story...

I keep getting good ideas for new stories, so I'm going to start yet ANOTHER one... sorry if you wanted more on the ones that already exist.

She ran through the false forest.
Pound, pound, pound, went her feet.
She shrieked in fear from the pounding.
After all, the 'forest' floor was hollow.
She was running, running.
She couldn't run for much longer, she'd collapse soon.
Or so she thought.
But she just kept running, kept going on, even after her legs were tired enough that she'd collapse if the situation weren't so dire.
Then the worst thing happened.
The ground opened up.
Metal slabs parted from each other, sending her falling into a black abyss.
There was only one thing she could do at the moment.
Scream for help from that person.
But would he listen?

And I'll type more later. This will be a blog-only story, meaning I'm not going to try to get it published, because essentially it's not one of my best ideas.

Quick heads up

I invited someone else from my school to read this blog, so Alanna, you and I can't cuss if we get really really mad anymore. Just a heads up, k? And if the person I invited is reading this, you should consider getting an account on blogspot too. It's fun! And plus you can comment on my stories. Which will make me happier because that way I will have more than 1 person commenting. Also, remember, don't look at my other blogs... well, actually, you can look at the recolors and edits one, but it only has... what, 2 posts? I haven't been focusing on recoloring because of typing stories. Also, if you wonder why these are slightly angsty, it's because recently I've been in the mood to type angst. Probably I'll put more cheery stories up later.

And Fictionpress is liable to plagiarism, but I don't have too much choice because of the entire 'I'm a kid, it's highly unlikely I'll have written anything worth reading' view that a lot of adults have. :P

Second post, second bit of story

Okay, here's the second bit, also the beginning of a story. Remember, I beg of you not to steal any of my stories/story ideas!

This story does have a title already. It's kinda long... Hate, Love, Tears, Smiles, Destruction, Healing.

“Supreme goddess who rules all, please show us, your humble servants, what we seek. We seek to know the next two healers of our village, for our two healers have passed on. Show us who the next shall be.” The procession before the two mirrors mumbled.
Slowly but surely a sea-green fog clouded up one of the mirrors. Then the fog took the shape of a young woman, with light teal hair and skin that was pale and glowed white, who gazed at them with scarily wise eyes.
“I am your goddess. I have come to show you what you wish.” Said the girl solemnly. Then a laugh sparked her eyes, and she smiled. “With help, of course.”
The other mirror fogged up with white fog, which then solidified into a woman and a man, who at the same time appeared young and old and wise.
The goddess then spoke again. “My children, have you in mind potential candidates for the next?”
“I believe so.” The woman spoke confidently, her hazel eyes sparking merrily. The man was more withdrawn, and his dark eyes were focused on the ground.
“I also have a two potentials in mind, and I would like it if you were to choose them. However, if you choose not to, I’ll understand. They are Margaret of None and Alyssa of Felicity.”
The council gasped. “Maggie will tear Aly to pieces!” They cried uproariously.
“Hush, hush!” the woman murmured. “If the blessed goddess has chosen them, there must be a reason. And to tell the truth, Aly already was on my list. Although, Maggie, not so much.”
“I know it is shocking to you that I would consider Maggie, but she has hidden potential.” The goddess was calm, unperturbed by the clamor.
“Then we shall take the two who you have suggested as apprentices, right, Jack?”
“I suppose so…”murmured the man.
“So now, you must say the sacred vows saying that you wish to take these two as apprentices. Which means you must go find them. Or rather, someone from the council must find them.” The goddess spoke again.
“I will go.” A woman piped up before anyone could speak. She then hurried out the door. She easily found Aly, who was, as always, reading a book on the swing-set. “Aly, come, there’s something important. We need to get Margaret and then go to the main hall.”
“Okay.” The girl, Aly, or Alyssa, was a short and lithe girl, very shy. She was pale, with long black hair, which tumbled around her shoulders, and violet eyes.
Then, they set off in search of Maggie.
They eventually found her in the place where the bullies often commingled. Among the adults, Maggie was Margaret, among some others, she was Maggie, and among her fellow bullies and those who fear her she was Maggot.
She was a tall, strong girl, with mousy brown hair and eyes that were sometimes amber and sometimes golden.
“Hey, Maggot,” the boy bullies there respected her, and treated her like any other bully, even though she was the only girl. “Betcha ten bucks I have a dare not even you would do.”
“You’re on!” Maggie grinned evilly.
“Okay then, go home, dig up at least 10 worms, then turn on your mom’s stove and fry them with lots of pepper and eat them.”
“I’m disappointed. That’s the best you can think of? I’ve eaten worms before!”
Then suddenly she turned around and noticed the council member and Aly.
“What’re you doing here?” she sneered.
“You’re to come with me and Aly to the main hall.”
“Sure, whatever.”

And that's all I have typed thus far. Also, I have a huge huge climax for the story and I NEED to spill it, so I'm going to do something to it. If you want to read it, highlight it, or you can try to figure it out. Or you can pretend it's not there. I know you can still see it, but this is the best I can do to type it out but still let it be seeable.

Maggie ran as no other could run. Her white boots were splattered with mud and coated with ashes, and her healer's dress would be black were it not for the spell protecting it.
"No!" She yelled. In her head, her thoughts were swirling. "How is this possible? It can't be possible. It's utterly impossible." But it was possible.
As she neared the end of the corridor, she braced herself, and slammed through the door. Her eyes met a horrible sight.
A slim, lithe girl was there.
It was Aly.
Sitting on a throne made from human remains.
With an evil smirk on her face.
And her white robes were turning black. Not with ashes, but because she was changing alliance.
Maggie sank to the floor in disbelief. There was no way.
But there was.
Maggie remembered how Aly had recently become more bitter, and although she was studious of the plants, she had asked how they worked in Necromancy. And she didn't treat patients with kind care, either. She just administered treatment without being warm and caring towards the patient, like a healer was supposed to.
Aly's robes shimmered and shifted, until they were the black robes of a Necromancer.
"There's no escape now, Maggot. I shall destroy you, and then re-raise you as one of my minions. Then, using your power and mine, we, or rather, I, shall defeat all of the living in this world and re-raise them as Undead, for once they are Undead, they shall no longer have a need to be healed with your silly charms and potions. Under me shall be an entire world of Undead, who shall never forsake me, or leave me. They shall always follow me, and trust me. No one shall die anymore. Of course, there shall be no overpopulation, because no longer will anyone reproduce. And then I will finally, once all is done, use the ancient and forsaken Necromancy spell to make myself the Ultimate Undead."

First post, yippee!!!!

Just a forewarning in case you happen to find this blog, a lot of the stories I write will be angsty, and there will often also be violence. But I think I'm a relatively good writer, and it'd be nice if you could read one or two excerpts and tell me if it's good... although it's not likely that anyone other than Alanna and possibly Valorona will read anything here.

Anyhow, first of all, here's the beginning of a story I've typed out. I think I have a really really good idea for how it'll shape itself and eventually turn out, although I'm kinda bad at typing first-person stories. Also, these are my own ideas, and sorry if they are similar to any of your ideas, and PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE if you are a stranger do not steal this and try to make it your own. I'm thinking of maybe typing out whole stories for this, too, sometimes. Probably just short stories though. Novels, I'll type excerpts of, but I'm hoping to get the entire thing published rather than just have them only on here where probably only up to 2 or 3 people will read it. Well, here's the beginning for my latest story!

Cry, run away, get caught, cut. Cry, run away, get caught, cut. Cry, run away, get caught, cut.
Life is so repetitive.
This is how my life has gone for the past 10 years.
Cry, run away, get caught, cut. Cry, run away, get caught, cut. Cry, run away, get caught, cut.
You can tell that I’m not your average teenage girl, can’t you?
Always, my life goes the same.
Cry, run away, get caught, cut. Cry, run away, get caught, cut. Cry, run away, get caught, cut.
At least, up until today. Or tomorrow. However you think of it.
My life had done another repetition. Cry, run away, get caught, cut. Then something new happened.
I found a key. Not your average key. It was made of wood so old and weathered it could have come from the days when giants roamed and hunted dragons like you or I would hunt bears or mountain lions. But of course, there were no humans then, and this key is very obviously human sized. And no giant would be able to handle it, since it’d be to them what a splinter is to us.
I found that the key fitted quite well into the locked box that was my only possession besides rags and a knife in the cell called my room.
And when it opened, I found…
Another key. Except this one was some kind of gold-and-silver alloy. There was no way it would go to any doors or chests or anything in this town, so I decided to skip the cry part of my repetitious life and head straight to the run away part.
And I ran away. And although I ran along the same path that I had run last time, I found a door. It was beautiful, a huge wooden slab with golden edges and gold fibers laced in it. I tried the key, and it worked. And the door opened. And I went in. I smiled, my first smile in 10 years. There is never any reason to smile in my town, and my mistress did not encourage smiling in her household.
I suppose I ought to give you some backstory, so you know a bit about me, so that you don’t think I have aquamarine hair or blue eyes or hate it when I cut myself or anything.
I was born fourteen years ago. My mistress has hated me for the ten years I have been with her. My parents were slaughtered when I was three. People say that I was in my mother’s arms when she was killed, and it was a miracle that I wasn’t also killed. The poisoned dagger had apparently flown into my mother’s heart, and apparently, I drank in some blood. This seems to have frightened the assassin, and he ran away. The next day, people found my parents dead, and they instantly whisked me away to be cared for by another. I remained there until my fourth birthday, and they said they had the best present for me. Someone else would take care of me.
That was when my mistress came. She smiled at me, and made the noises one would make at a 2 year old. I had no patience for such things, but she didn’t seem to notice. She took me to her house. And that’s when I learned her true nature. She was a beater, who worked her adopted daughter (Who is, obviously, me) nearly to death, and that’s when my life began to get repetitious. One of the worst times was when I was playing with some of the neighborhood boys. We were having fun, and I’d finished all the chores for the time being. Then one shrieked in fright, and they all jumped back, and ran, and told their mothers that my eyes were turning red.
A full description of my looks would be that I have black hair, extremely straggly from lack of nutrition, a lot of work, and beating, pale skin, and red eyes that used to be violet. Everyone has avoided me since my eyes turned red. I remember looking in the mirror, and I remember how my eyes were, though frightening, a beautiful shade of crimson.
Now my mistress has broken the mirror, and I haven’t seen my own face in years.
And the cycle continued for all of the years that I’ve been here.
Until now.
Or tomorrow.
However you put it.
The door creaked open, and I beheld a vibrant, verdant world. The gray rain in my world at first seemed to try to contrast against the beautiful brightness, until it was forced to fade away, and I only saw the beauty of the other place.
Then my mistress’s call came. I was jerked away from the beauty, and saw the grayness around me once more. I looked back at the door. It was fading.
“No!” I cry, and I try to jump towards it, but it is gone before I reach, and then my mistress comes again, and catches me again.
“You are a foolish girl, Aeika! Running off again, shrieking about who-knows-what, and get back over here and finish peeling those potatoes!”

And that's where I stopped for now. I'm still typing more, but that's where I stopped so far. Please do not steal this even though it's not copywrited or anything.

And I'll put this up for now, and start typing the excerpt for another of my story ideas on a second post. Also, the story has no title as of yet, so go ahead and help me think of ideas.