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.