Monday, August 15, 2011


Today, I'm going to be putting my first two hundred fifty words the book I'm attempting to write. It's a YA Fantasy, and it's current name is Tracking:

Four years, I thought to myself repeatedly as I walked back to my home in the enchanted woods of Palaire. I couldn't believe it had been so long since I had stepped foot in my house, or had even seen my family.

Take a deep breath, Jemima. Are you ready for this? I told myself I was, but I knew it was a lie.

Being nearly five in the morning, the stars and moon were the only thing to guide me through the rough forest. The cool moist dirt felt good on the soles of my feet, the grass was wet with the morning dew. The trees reaching over me stood hundreds of feet tall, their leaves turning to beautiful oranges, reds, and yellows. The fresh cool breeze came blowing in my face, and I smiled as it blew my hair back out of my eyes. I missed that; but there was no adventure here, and that is why I could never stay. I always wished I could’ve been born a few centuries in the past.

I longed for war, for excitement. Sure, I had gotten to fight and track a little while I was away, mostly investigation work. Nonetheless, my heart would not be stilled until I tasted a true battle.

I used to find it odd—elves and other creatures that had never been in a war or seen their country in battle all wanted to fight, to stand up for their home. Yet a decent amount of the people that did experience war looked back upon those times with bitter distaste, or at least sorrow. . .why was that? I knew for a fact that if I ever participated in a war, I would look back on it with pride that I did what I could for the ones I loved, not with sadness.

I needed to have a mission. Always.    

I would highly appreciate it if you offered me some critiques and advice on this, because I'm still not sure what I think of it.~Elizabeth

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