So, wow. I promised I'd post at the end of the week the last time I posted... That was in 2012. Haha. Sorry, everyone, if you even still follow me. I haven't been very exciting lately. So, to make up for my being boring, I'm going to start a new story. Maybe this time I'll actually post every week, since it's part of my therapy homework. I also might start posting some short stories as well. Maybe I'll do Short Story Sunday or something. If anybody wants to throw me some ideas to write about, feel free to do so. I might not use all of them, but I definitely might use some. Anyway, I'm going to go back to story writing again.
G'night, everyone.
Thursday, February 13, 2014
Saturday, November 3, 2012
I'm back!
Guess what, readers, if you're still out there:
I'm back, and I'm feeling generous, so, I'm going to give you a small spoiler/hint about my next story post. I will be posting more of the Guardian Chronicles chapters. But here's the twist. Chapter five will be in Artemis' point of view. Intrigued? I hope so. I do so love this chapter, and I think you all will, too. Another little blurb about it, this is where the fun stuff comes in. This is where it starts becoming what it will be by the end of the first little novella.
I leave you with this. I will try to post it by the end of this coming week, and maybe chapter six as well. Also, I will be working on more of Living in the Dirt, and an entirely new story you all know nothing about yet!
I'm back, and I'm feeling generous, so, I'm going to give you a small spoiler/hint about my next story post. I will be posting more of the Guardian Chronicles chapters. But here's the twist. Chapter five will be in Artemis' point of view. Intrigued? I hope so. I do so love this chapter, and I think you all will, too. Another little blurb about it, this is where the fun stuff comes in. This is where it starts becoming what it will be by the end of the first little novella.
I leave you with this. I will try to post it by the end of this coming week, and maybe chapter six as well. Also, I will be working on more of Living in the Dirt, and an entirely new story you all know nothing about yet!
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Team Econ On A Stick
So, school began just last week, and already I'm loving my Macroeconomics class. The guys at my table are just freaking hilarious when we're all put together and thrown ever so gracefully (not) into whatever activity the teacher has planned for us.
The latest activity we did was something along these lines:
The four of us got stranded on an island in the middle of nowhere in Alaska. First of all, why the heck would I, the girl who is shivering in sixty-degree weather, be on a school trip in Alaska in the first place? Our only materials salvaged included two oars (Nose goes), three life preservers (Sorry, Eli, but again, nose goes), a book of matches, two knives (Once again, nose goes), two rain ponchos (Again... Well, you get the picture. Nose goes all the way. Victory for myself and Levi.), a compass, an axe, and our wet clothing (Any guesses on what we would use our wet clothing for? I'm thinking I would like to keep my wet clothes on, thank you very much).
Being the rational ones, our first thought (For the most part, anyway. There's always the odd one.) was 'shelter'. Naturally, we used logs (thank you for the axe, Mrs. Rowland.) and our two rain ponchos. Task one, done.
Our second thought, now being the rationally irrational ones, was slingshot. According to the assignment, the nearest city is Juneau. We debated a bit, and decided that we were going to slingshot small animals into Juneau until the 'Juneauvians', as we called them, for lack of knowledge of what to call them, decided to investigate the source of flying animals.
Our third thought doubled as our "backup plan". We decided that we would fell a medium sized tree and use the logs we made and the straps of our life preservers to make a raft. We would use our two paddles and the remaints of our life preservers, and we would paddle/sail to Juneau (We dismantled our shelter to use the ponchos as sails. Aren't we resourceful. :) ). When (If) we made it to Juneau, we would finish our master plan off by question why the Juneauvians did not get the idea to investigate the flying animals.
Oddly enough, our plan was not the most odd in the class. At least we all kept our clothes for wearing. With activities like these, however, I can't help but wonder, what next?
The latest activity we did was something along these lines:
The four of us got stranded on an island in the middle of nowhere in Alaska. First of all, why the heck would I, the girl who is shivering in sixty-degree weather, be on a school trip in Alaska in the first place? Our only materials salvaged included two oars (Nose goes), three life preservers (Sorry, Eli, but again, nose goes), a book of matches, two knives (Once again, nose goes), two rain ponchos (Again... Well, you get the picture. Nose goes all the way. Victory for myself and Levi.), a compass, an axe, and our wet clothing (Any guesses on what we would use our wet clothing for? I'm thinking I would like to keep my wet clothes on, thank you very much).
Being the rational ones, our first thought (For the most part, anyway. There's always the odd one.) was 'shelter'. Naturally, we used logs (thank you for the axe, Mrs. Rowland.) and our two rain ponchos. Task one, done.
Our second thought, now being the rationally irrational ones, was slingshot. According to the assignment, the nearest city is Juneau. We debated a bit, and decided that we were going to slingshot small animals into Juneau until the 'Juneauvians', as we called them, for lack of knowledge of what to call them, decided to investigate the source of flying animals.
Our third thought doubled as our "backup plan". We decided that we would fell a medium sized tree and use the logs we made and the straps of our life preservers to make a raft. We would use our two paddles and the remaints of our life preservers, and we would paddle/sail to Juneau (We dismantled our shelter to use the ponchos as sails. Aren't we resourceful. :) ). When (If) we made it to Juneau, we would finish our master plan off by question why the Juneauvians did not get the idea to investigate the flying animals.
Oddly enough, our plan was not the most odd in the class. At least we all kept our clothes for wearing. With activities like these, however, I can't help but wonder, what next?
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Living In The Dirt: Daily Life in WWI
~Chapter Two~
I was halfway to my destination. I had lost track of how many days it had been since the night I had left home. Already I was hiding away in a car of a train headed toward Russia. If I could make it to Russia, I would be safe. So far, no one had checked this car, but my luck would not hold out, I was sure. If the train stopped soon, I would get off and stow away on the next one, or find another borrowed ride. If not, I would have to find another place on the train to hide. I could not stay here forever.
I fell asleep. It was very easy to fall asleep to the endless, lullabye-like rocking of the car. The train had finally come to a stop. This must have been what woke me up. I put my ear to the door, listening. I heard nothing. There were no voices, no detectable footsteps. I opened the door only an inch and peeked out. Seeing no one, I pushed it open further and jumped out. I did not waste time closing the door again. I would let the engineers find it open, and draw their useless conclusions. They would never decide that their culprit was a seventeen-year-old, poverty-stricken Irish girl.
I ran with as much energy as I could muster. I had not eaten for hours, but I did not dare rest there, for fear that I would fall asleep again, and someone would find me. I could not be found there, wherever there was, unless there was Russia. That was my haven, my final destination. I would be safe there. I ran until buildings popped up around me, and I was in the marketplace. I needed to find out where I was without anyone figuring out who I was.
I managed to stay blended in with the few people who were out. It was early evening, and not many people roamed the streets. I found a newspaper stand and paid the man for a paper. I soon realized that this was pointless on my part. It was in a language I could not read well. I could only make out a few words. I could tell from the heading that the city I was in was called Milan. I knew enough of my geography to figure out that I was in Italy, just south of the border between Italy and Switzerland. I started out for the nearest train station, since I still had a long way to go before I reached Russia. As I stopped for a quick rest, to eat and attend to more personal needs, I paid close attention to my surroundings. I still was not safe. Italy had not chosen a side in the war, that I had heard of, but I had been traveling for days without exposure to the news. During my journey, Italy could have become a haven for the enemy army. I had no reason to believe that anyone would know my origins unless I spoke to them, but since Germany was at war with Russia, France, and Britain, I believed their army would be more on edge, more mistrusting toward strangers. And I was certainly a stranger to Italy.
I hurried as fast as I could to the train station. The train was already in the station, and luckily it was heading to Russia. However, my luck stopped there. There were hundreds of people boarding, thanks to the war, and the non-passenger cars were being loaded and watched. Shoot. I would have to buy a ticket. I searched through my leather pouch and frowned. I would not have much left afterward. I would have to ration the rest of my food and money for the rest of my journey. I turned to the man at the ticket booth and he asked me a question in what I assumed was Italian. I replied in my language, asking for one ticket to Russia and hoping he understood...
He understood despite the fact that I asked in Irish, and he worked in Italy. I assumed it was because he worked in a train station ticket booth. He would need to know the languages of his customers. I thanked him, boarded the train, and settled in for what would hopefully be the final leg of my journey to Russia.
I was halfway to my destination. I had lost track of how many days it had been since the night I had left home. Already I was hiding away in a car of a train headed toward Russia. If I could make it to Russia, I would be safe. So far, no one had checked this car, but my luck would not hold out, I was sure. If the train stopped soon, I would get off and stow away on the next one, or find another borrowed ride. If not, I would have to find another place on the train to hide. I could not stay here forever.
I fell asleep. It was very easy to fall asleep to the endless, lullabye-like rocking of the car. The train had finally come to a stop. This must have been what woke me up. I put my ear to the door, listening. I heard nothing. There were no voices, no detectable footsteps. I opened the door only an inch and peeked out. Seeing no one, I pushed it open further and jumped out. I did not waste time closing the door again. I would let the engineers find it open, and draw their useless conclusions. They would never decide that their culprit was a seventeen-year-old, poverty-stricken Irish girl.
I ran with as much energy as I could muster. I had not eaten for hours, but I did not dare rest there, for fear that I would fall asleep again, and someone would find me. I could not be found there, wherever there was, unless there was Russia. That was my haven, my final destination. I would be safe there. I ran until buildings popped up around me, and I was in the marketplace. I needed to find out where I was without anyone figuring out who I was.
I managed to stay blended in with the few people who were out. It was early evening, and not many people roamed the streets. I found a newspaper stand and paid the man for a paper. I soon realized that this was pointless on my part. It was in a language I could not read well. I could only make out a few words. I could tell from the heading that the city I was in was called Milan. I knew enough of my geography to figure out that I was in Italy, just south of the border between Italy and Switzerland. I started out for the nearest train station, since I still had a long way to go before I reached Russia. As I stopped for a quick rest, to eat and attend to more personal needs, I paid close attention to my surroundings. I still was not safe. Italy had not chosen a side in the war, that I had heard of, but I had been traveling for days without exposure to the news. During my journey, Italy could have become a haven for the enemy army. I had no reason to believe that anyone would know my origins unless I spoke to them, but since Germany was at war with Russia, France, and Britain, I believed their army would be more on edge, more mistrusting toward strangers. And I was certainly a stranger to Italy.
I hurried as fast as I could to the train station. The train was already in the station, and luckily it was heading to Russia. However, my luck stopped there. There were hundreds of people boarding, thanks to the war, and the non-passenger cars were being loaded and watched. Shoot. I would have to buy a ticket. I searched through my leather pouch and frowned. I would not have much left afterward. I would have to ration the rest of my food and money for the rest of my journey. I turned to the man at the ticket booth and he asked me a question in what I assumed was Italian. I replied in my language, asking for one ticket to Russia and hoping he understood...
He understood despite the fact that I asked in Irish, and he worked in Italy. I assumed it was because he worked in a train station ticket booth. He would need to know the languages of his customers. I thanked him, boarded the train, and settled in for what would hopefully be the final leg of my journey to Russia.
Apologies
To all of my readers:
I apologize for not logging on as much recently. Actually, let's rephrase that. I apologize for not logging on AT ALL recently. I honestly wish I could keep up with posting stories and such as often as I would like to. I guess I just don't think to check this website much. I will try to post more, even if it is just short stories for entertainment. I think I will take a bit of a break from the Guardian Chronicles, as much as I love them. (They are my baby.) However, I think I will keep up with the WWII story, seeing as it is easier for me to make something up on the spot, and requires less concentration than typing something I already wrote in a little book. I will try to post these at least once a month, but I make no guarantees. So, until next time, my friends.
May you be the only limit to your imagination.
I apologize for not logging on as much recently. Actually, let's rephrase that. I apologize for not logging on AT ALL recently. I honestly wish I could keep up with posting stories and such as often as I would like to. I guess I just don't think to check this website much. I will try to post more, even if it is just short stories for entertainment. I think I will take a bit of a break from the Guardian Chronicles, as much as I love them. (They are my baby.) However, I think I will keep up with the WWII story, seeing as it is easier for me to make something up on the spot, and requires less concentration than typing something I already wrote in a little book. I will try to post these at least once a month, but I make no guarantees. So, until next time, my friends.
May you be the only limit to your imagination.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
The Guardian Chronicles: Chapter Four
The day passed by slowly. Arya talked to me about Beijing, and as I had guessed, Artemis. She was glad that I was happy being with him. Sometimes I wondered if she seemed more like a mother because I had told her when we were little and would play castle that she could be my royal advisor.As the hours dragged on, I watched Irina with profound intensity. She glared at me every time she passed me, but otherwise acted as if nothing had happened last night. When I returned to my room after lunch, there was a note lying on my vanity table. I picked it up and flopped on the bed to read it.
I waited for sunset in silence. Finally, my wait was over. I took out my diary and quickly scrawled an entry.
I threw the book under the bed and headed through the courtyard and into the woods toward the lake.Irina was waiting."Where is Arya?" I didn't hide my emotions this time. I made it clear that I wanted her dead, that I wanted to kill her. She made it clear that she felt the same way about me. She took a step toward me, her eyes burning with hatred."Your sister is at home, of course. Are you honestly stupid enough to believe that she would be here? Silly girl...""The note was from you. But how did you--""Oh, it was all too easy to get your little sister to dispense the proper information." She smirked."Now, let's finish our little battle, shall we?" She lunged at me, and I leapt to the left. She caught my ankle, and I landed hard on the ground. She grabbed my right wrist, and stood, pulling me with her. I turned to run. She jerked my wrist, turning me to face her and snapping the bone. I cried out, but she slapped her hand over my mouth, muffling my scream. I tried to break free, but her grip would not break.Finally, I was able to loosen her grip, and I bit down on her hand. She let go, and I slid to the ground. I turned to run toward the castle, which was behind her. Before I could get far enough from her, however, she brought her hand toward my face. I felt her hand hit my cheek, and I fell backwards. My head hit a tree as Irina came to stand near me."I've had enough of your little games, Brat. It's over. I win." Before I could register anything, her dagger was in her hand. The dagger, however, was not my worst problem.In my attempt to understand, I had failed to notice that on her back was a silver scabbard, from which she now pulled a second blade, this one the length of my entire arm. She came toward me, her hatred for me burning like fire in her eyes. I couldn't move, I couldn't think, I couldn't scream. I could only lay there bleeding and crying. She continued her advance, and the longer blade pointed at my heart. I cried out as the blade pierced my skin, and Irina continued to come closer. I closed my eyes and waited for my aunt to put me out of my misery.The pain stopped as quickly as it had started. I opened my eyes. Irina was on the ground and Artemis stood over her. The blade was now in his hand, and the tip was buried in Irina's ribs. Artemis left the blade where it was and came to me. He lifted me ever so gently into his arms and stared away from my wounded aunt. I noticed that we were not headed toward the castle, but toward the lake. As he carried me, I realized that my face was wet, but not with blood. Rain? I looked up with what little strength I had left and realized that I was not wet with rain, either. I looked at the lake as the tears began to run down the face of my beloved Artemis.We finally reached the clearing around the lake, and Artemis laid me gently on the grass beside the water. He grasped my hand, and I wanted more than anything to comfort him, to tell him that I was going to be alright. The fact that I couldn't only made the pain worse. Finally, I mustered up enough enough strength to speak."Artemis?" My voice was an almost inaudible whisper, but he heard me, and looked straight into my eyes."Yes, Luna?""I love you." He pulled me to him, tears falling freely. Then, I closed my eyes and saw nothing more...
Luna--Please meet me in our "place" by the lake after sunset. I need to talk to you. It's important.--Arya
I waited for sunset in silence. Finally, my wait was over. I took out my diary and quickly scrawled an entry.
Dear Diary,
Going to meet Arya. Will finish entry upon return.
I threw the book under the bed and headed through the courtyard and into the woods toward the lake.Irina was waiting."Where is Arya?" I didn't hide my emotions this time. I made it clear that I wanted her dead, that I wanted to kill her. She made it clear that she felt the same way about me. She took a step toward me, her eyes burning with hatred."Your sister is at home, of course. Are you honestly stupid enough to believe that she would be here? Silly girl...""The note was from you. But how did you--""Oh, it was all too easy to get your little sister to dispense the proper information." She smirked."Now, let's finish our little battle, shall we?" She lunged at me, and I leapt to the left. She caught my ankle, and I landed hard on the ground. She grabbed my right wrist, and stood, pulling me with her. I turned to run. She jerked my wrist, turning me to face her and snapping the bone. I cried out, but she slapped her hand over my mouth, muffling my scream. I tried to break free, but her grip would not break.Finally, I was able to loosen her grip, and I bit down on her hand. She let go, and I slid to the ground. I turned to run toward the castle, which was behind her. Before I could get far enough from her, however, she brought her hand toward my face. I felt her hand hit my cheek, and I fell backwards. My head hit a tree as Irina came to stand near me."I've had enough of your little games, Brat. It's over. I win." Before I could register anything, her dagger was in her hand. The dagger, however, was not my worst problem.In my attempt to understand, I had failed to notice that on her back was a silver scabbard, from which she now pulled a second blade, this one the length of my entire arm. She came toward me, her hatred for me burning like fire in her eyes. I couldn't move, I couldn't think, I couldn't scream. I could only lay there bleeding and crying. She continued her advance, and the longer blade pointed at my heart. I cried out as the blade pierced my skin, and Irina continued to come closer. I closed my eyes and waited for my aunt to put me out of my misery.The pain stopped as quickly as it had started. I opened my eyes. Irina was on the ground and Artemis stood over her. The blade was now in his hand, and the tip was buried in Irina's ribs. Artemis left the blade where it was and came to me. He lifted me ever so gently into his arms and stared away from my wounded aunt. I noticed that we were not headed toward the castle, but toward the lake. As he carried me, I realized that my face was wet, but not with blood. Rain? I looked up with what little strength I had left and realized that I was not wet with rain, either. I looked at the lake as the tears began to run down the face of my beloved Artemis.We finally reached the clearing around the lake, and Artemis laid me gently on the grass beside the water. He grasped my hand, and I wanted more than anything to comfort him, to tell him that I was going to be alright. The fact that I couldn't only made the pain worse. Finally, I mustered up enough enough strength to speak."Artemis?" My voice was an almost inaudible whisper, but he heard me, and looked straight into my eyes."Yes, Luna?""I love you." He pulled me to him, tears falling freely. Then, I closed my eyes and saw nothing more...
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Living In The Dirt: Daily Life in WWI ~Chapter One~
Chapter One
My name is Nuala Aiobhian. I am seventeen years old, and have yet to graduate high school. I left school early to take care of my family. My mother is expecting her second child, and my father has just found out that he has less than a year before he will most likely die of cancer. Even though I am the only child in our family, my father cannot earn enough pay each week to last a full week. It usually takes two, or even three weeks’ pay to buy our family one week of food and medicine. Adding to our troubles, half of the men in our town have been drafted into the military to serve in the war. My father is one of those men…
My father cannot serve in this war. He is sick, and must work to take care of my mother and me. If he goes to fight in this war, my poor, weak mother will have to leave to work in the mines, but she cannot, as she is expecting a baby. But, if he refuses, he could possibly be sent to prison for disobeying the government. I don’t know what to do…
It was June 28th. Papa said that there had been a disaster in Bosnia. The Archduke, Francis Ferdinand and his wife had been assassinated in Sarajevo earlier that day. Papa believed that this would start a war between Austria-Hungary and Serbia. Serbia is the country south of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. The newspaper said that Serbia was home to a group of nationalists called the Black Hand, and that they sent the man who killed the Archduke in Serbia. Mama said that we did not have to worry about a war, but I thought Papa was right…
The next few days passed without incident. However, on July 5th, Kaiser William the second made an alliance with Franz Joseph of Austria-Hungary, promising support against Serbia. The next few weeks passed, and finally, Franz Joseph declared war on Serbia and Russia. The next day, Tsar Nicholas Romanov began to mobilize the Russian troops into Austria. On the same day, Austro-Hungarian troops began to invade Serbia. Three days later, Germany declared war on Russia. Papa had been right…
My head reeled at how fast this was happening. All of Europe was being affected by the war, and this was just the beginning, I could feel it. In the early morning hours on August 2nd, I walked into the entry hall to fetch the mail. There was a telegram for Papa in the mail. I knew immediately, without looking at it, what it was. I went into Father’s room to wake him. He opened his eyes and sat within minutes. However, as he sat up, he moved slowly, and as soon as he was upright, he began to cough. Mama awoke, and told me to fetch Papa a glass of water. I hurried up the stairs, struggling in an attempt to keep from spilling any. When I got back into Mama and Papa’s room, Mama had Papa lying down again, his head propped up on her extra pillow. I looked over his frail form, sick with worry. But I was not as sick as Papa was. He was too sick to serve in the war, and as I thought about this, I knew then what I had to do.
That night, I read over the telegram one last time. I had not shown it to Mama or Papa, nor had I told them what I was planning to do. I climbed out of my bed and began packing. I crept quietly into the storehouse and took a loaf of bread, some crackers, and some jam. I went back into my room, stashed them in my bag, and got to writing. I left the note on the table in the kitchen for Mama and Papa. By the time they found it, I would be far from home, and almost to the palace. I snuck into the doorway of Mama’s and Papa’s room, and bade them a silent goodbye. I did not know when I would see them again. Finally, I slipped out through the front door and into the night.
My name is Nuala Aiobhian. I am seventeen years old, and have yet to graduate high school. I left school early to take care of my family. My mother is expecting her second child, and my father has just found out that he has less than a year before he will most likely die of cancer. Even though I am the only child in our family, my father cannot earn enough pay each week to last a full week. It usually takes two, or even three weeks’ pay to buy our family one week of food and medicine. Adding to our troubles, half of the men in our town have been drafted into the military to serve in the war. My father is one of those men…
My father cannot serve in this war. He is sick, and must work to take care of my mother and me. If he goes to fight in this war, my poor, weak mother will have to leave to work in the mines, but she cannot, as she is expecting a baby. But, if he refuses, he could possibly be sent to prison for disobeying the government. I don’t know what to do…
It was June 28th. Papa said that there had been a disaster in Bosnia. The Archduke, Francis Ferdinand and his wife had been assassinated in Sarajevo earlier that day. Papa believed that this would start a war between Austria-Hungary and Serbia. Serbia is the country south of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. The newspaper said that Serbia was home to a group of nationalists called the Black Hand, and that they sent the man who killed the Archduke in Serbia. Mama said that we did not have to worry about a war, but I thought Papa was right…
The next few days passed without incident. However, on July 5th, Kaiser William the second made an alliance with Franz Joseph of Austria-Hungary, promising support against Serbia. The next few weeks passed, and finally, Franz Joseph declared war on Serbia and Russia. The next day, Tsar Nicholas Romanov began to mobilize the Russian troops into Austria. On the same day, Austro-Hungarian troops began to invade Serbia. Three days later, Germany declared war on Russia. Papa had been right…
My head reeled at how fast this was happening. All of Europe was being affected by the war, and this was just the beginning, I could feel it. In the early morning hours on August 2nd, I walked into the entry hall to fetch the mail. There was a telegram for Papa in the mail. I knew immediately, without looking at it, what it was. I went into Father’s room to wake him. He opened his eyes and sat within minutes. However, as he sat up, he moved slowly, and as soon as he was upright, he began to cough. Mama awoke, and told me to fetch Papa a glass of water. I hurried up the stairs, struggling in an attempt to keep from spilling any. When I got back into Mama and Papa’s room, Mama had Papa lying down again, his head propped up on her extra pillow. I looked over his frail form, sick with worry. But I was not as sick as Papa was. He was too sick to serve in the war, and as I thought about this, I knew then what I had to do.
That night, I read over the telegram one last time. I had not shown it to Mama or Papa, nor had I told them what I was planning to do. I climbed out of my bed and began packing. I crept quietly into the storehouse and took a loaf of bread, some crackers, and some jam. I went back into my room, stashed them in my bag, and got to writing. I left the note on the table in the kitchen for Mama and Papa. By the time they found it, I would be far from home, and almost to the palace. I snuck into the doorway of Mama’s and Papa’s room, and bade them a silent goodbye. I did not know when I would see them again. Finally, I slipped out through the front door and into the night.
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