Halloween

Alright. . .So, all my family does for halloween is trick-or-treating, we never really get into it that much. This year, I didn't even do that--instead, I went behind my grandparent's house with a few of my cousins and made freaky noises and smashed pans with wooden spoons. Quite fun, actually. 

What about you? What do you guys do for it? 

Well. . .That's the theme for this week. Halloween.

Write about what you did, or have done. It doesn't have to be something you did this year; if you have this awesome story of something that happened a while ago, feel free to use that, too. Also--we are going to have to make a rule that no real (last) names or locations be used. 

But, remember:

We are a Christian blog. We will not post ANY stories that we feel go against our beliefs. 

~Elizabeth

What do you think?

Ok, I know. I am such a slacker!! My (feeble) excuse is that I am in high school and I have a work load like a ton of bricks. Still, I should post more often. Perhaps I am simply intimidated by the genius of Liz. Huh, maybe not... For this post, I am going to post the beginning of a story. My challenge to all y'all is to finish it. It only has to be a short story. I want to see what you think about it. Now if no one replys, then I will post my ending. Maybe I will Post that anyway... But if a bunch of you send in story endings, i will hold a vote on the best one and the winner will get to post one entry on our blog! If you are the winner, I will send you the rules about the post after you win. So, for the writers, same rules for the TOTW apply. It will last for... Lets say three weeks. Now, to the contest!!!

There is a world beyond the sun. It is inhabited by creations. Everything ever created or made up lives their life in this land. Only a few can see the creations, hovering around their creators until their stories are done and they can travel the road of the sunset. Of these, even fewer can travel the road themselves. One boy, Dylan, was the only one who could travel the sacred road, but he grew up and stopped pretending. One like Dylan is only born every 50 years and the world felt the loss of Dyan sharply, although they did not know it. The next one to be born was a girl corrupted by pride and power. She enslaved the world behind the sun for years. Back on earth, creativity had stopped. Until one dark night when the long awaited child was born...


Now its your turn!

A little more. . .

Alright. . . So, today I'm going to post a little bit more of that story I've been doing, but first. . . I'm probably going to do NaNoWriMo this year (more info on that on Monday), and this will be the book I'll attempt to write 50000 words on. So. . . I want to come up with a title. . .any suggestions?

“Curias!!!” It was all I could do to say his name, but it was all he needed to move much faster. And soon, we were at a full speed gallop.        

It seemed as if that was what we did the whole day. I felt a feeling that had never before existed to me—freedom. I felt as if I was finally unleashed from the chains of bondage that held me tight for so long.  

Free. . .and yet not free. I knew there would be people endlessly searching for me.

But I knew they would never catch me. And yet, even if they did, they couldn’t keep me contained. I was already let loose, had already tasted the fresh air. No, there was no going back.  

But I soon realized that, although I was prepared to fly away at the speed of light, my horses were incapable of such a task. They continued to get slower as the day went on, until eventually  they could take it no longer.  

“They must rest,” I mumbled, feeling tired myself.  

“For a few hours—nothing more. We cannot afford any more time than that.” 

“What?! Are you insane?”

"No," he raised his eyebrows, ". . .are you?”

“I demand at least six hours of sleep, thank you very much.” I lifted my chin as high as I could.

“Well, I’ve got a newsflash for you—we’re not in the castle anymore. There’s no such thing as six hours of sleep,” he looked down upon my limp form, “But. . .if you’d like, I could stay up and guard while you and the horses sleep.”  

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,”

I laid myself down upon the moist grass surrounding a tree in the area we had stopped at, only to hear Curias chuckle, “After all, you’re the one guarding tomorrow.”

I moaned.  

~Elizabeth

Themes

Alright. . .So the theme for this week's TOTW is Action/Adventure, and if you want to (appropriately) tie it into Halloween, that works too. We also have a late entry for last week's theme (Apples). Here it is:

 I was sitting on a chair in my apartment that first October out on my own. It still didn't feel like home, even though I had lived there for two months. I had all of my things that had decorated my room at my mom's house placed around the apartment. The two porcelain Chinamen served as bookends on the bookcase. My guitar poster graced the wall by the window. And the ancient rug that I had inherited from my great aunt lay on the wooden floor. I even used the same laundry detergent as my mom had.
     I knew that I missed my mom and Karen, my sister, but this place was supposed to be home! Nothing felt familiar. The chair creaked as I got up out of it. I walked to the window and looked out over the park. Three, old maple trees were turning crimson on the tips of the branches. I sighed. It must be apple season, I thought vaguely. Apple season. I tilted my head in thought. That was what I was missing – the feel of the smooth apple skins in my hands when peeling them, the smell of applesauce bubbling on the stove, and the sight of three or four golden apple pies cooling on the rack. I had always loved apple season. Mom, Karen, and I would gather in our large, farm-style kitchen – bushels upon bushels of granny smiths, macintosh, and galas filling all available floor space. We would spend a week peeling, slicing, cooking, and baking them. We would can apple pie filling and applesauce, bake apple pies, and dry apple slices.
     I sighed again, at the memory of those happy, autumn afternoons after school, and decided that that was what I needed to do. I needed to buy some apples. I grabbed my purse and counted the money inside. Three dollars and fifty-four cents. Most of my money I had used up to furnish my apartment. I figured I would need sixty dollars or so to by a couple bushels of apples. Sixty dollars. Not much, in the scheme of things, but in my limited budget, it could mean forgoing a couple meals. I looked around my scanty apartment and decided – I needed apples.
     I was inspired! I tore across the room and into my bedroom. Rifling through my box of old stuff, I found nothing worth sixty bucks. I strode back to the living room/dining room and surveyed it with a determined eye. And then, I saw it – the dilapidated, old lamp sitting on the end table (or, it at least looked old at that moment, in light of the apples that were to come). I snatched up the ancient relic, marched outside, and walked the three blocks to the pawn shop.
     After that, I went to the farmers' market and bought two bushels of apples. I walked contentedly back to my apartment, opened the door, and – gazing lovingly down at the two bushel baskets straining the sinews in my arms – exclaimed, “I'm home!”

-Aylin

No Apples

Alright, so I wound up deciding to make apple butter, which takes a long time to make. So. . .I haven't made it quite yet. But, I will post nonetheless! Here's another part of that story I've been posting: 

I gasped, “Curias! I remember! Behind these cloaks, there is a door. . . ,” I waited a moment as the memories came pouring into my mind all at once, “It is used for the kings and queens to get to their children if needed, but the children were not supposed to discover it. I assume there’s one on Jaradias’ and Edwin’s room as well. This leads into my father’s room, which has a staircase that leads down to the gardens. My father won’t be there, he should still be in the assembly.” 

Curias looked dumbfounded, “The horses are only a few yards away from the gardens, it would be easy,” I judged by the uncertainty on his face that this was something the guards knew nothing about, “Lead the way.”    

So, I did. We had to bend down, as the door was small. There was a very short tunnel in-between the two, but I felt around for the latch on the other door and we were soon inside.

Curias was dazed, he had never been in my father’s room before. It was indeed something to stare at. . .majestic, almost.  But there was no time to admire. Not there. Not then.

We fled down the stairs to my father’s private section of the garden, and put the key in the keyhole to get into the commoner grounds. 

Sure enough, there were two horses ready waiting for us just a few yards away.

“Act casual,” Curias whispered gently into my ear. 

Casual. And how am I supposed to know how to do that???  

We led our horses a little farther from observant eyes, although I had a sense that someone was following us, watching us.

Curias appeared to sense this, too, because he began to get on his horse. So did I. 

To avoid looking suspicious, we started out going slow.  But I had to look back. . .

There he was, eyes locked on mine. Edwin’s best friend, Kloin.  He recognized me. He knew what I was doing. 

Tell me what you think!~Elizabeth

Apples

Alright, are you ready for this week's theme?

Apples.  Yes, apples.

And speaking of apples, I need help--it turns out that the ones I bought this morning were the one type that my family doesn't like. So. . . I now have a ton of apples that no one's (except me!) going to eat. So. . . What should I do with them? Are there any good recipes you have(or interesting ideas?)???

And, if there are enough options, I will make one of the suggested things and post the results on Wednesday. Just try to keep it simple, though--remember, I am in no way whatsoever a good cook. :)

~Elizabeth

TOTW

Here are the winning stories for TOTW: 

“Uh…hello?” called Ken. He was tied to a chair with a bag over his head. “Hello?”

A deep voice answered, “Hello, Kenneth, or should I say, agent 712?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Ken answered nervously.

“Don’t you? Well, let me refresh your memory. You are an international secret agent. You travel the world carrying out top secret missions for your boss. ”

“Oh…” Ken scratched his head through the bag. That’s when he realized his hands were free. He yanked off the bag and looked at his captor. His opponent was eerily skinny for a man, and was wearing high heels underneath a metal exo-skeleton. His long hair stuck out in odd places.

“So, you’ve escaped,” the mysterious stranger said carefully.

“Yes, yes I have” Ken leaped toward his opponent using all his spy skills and…hit his face on the chair.

“Apparently you do not have very good eyesight.” The voice said from behind him, “You have been talking to that chair for the past five minutes.”

Ken turned around and knocked the helmet off of the stranger’s head. He looked at his opponent and saw…

“Barbie Doll?”

“Yes, it’s me; I captured you and planned to put you in a spaceship to Mars but that won’t work thanks to your meddling spy skills!”

-William Shakespeare  



     She fingered the platinum-blond hair of the old barbie doll. It had been hacked short in third grade. One of its arms had been torn loose by Scruffy, her dog. The sundress that it wore was pale yellow, faded by the sunlight of too many backyard picnics.
     Kelly smiled sadly. So many memories – so bittersweet. Something in her yearned for those warm days filled with lemonade and friends. She wanted to reach back to the times of giggling with her sister as their Barbies dressed in ballgowns and danced with Ken. It had been so sweet, so innocent, so unlike Kelly's life now. She started up from the edge of her bed when she heard the front door bang. Jim was home, and Kelly had forgotten to start supper.
     Kelly tried to slip into the kitchen so that maybe, just maybe, he might not notice that she had been daydreaming and forgotten her duty again. She winced when she brushed her bruised shoulder against the white wall. Jim did not like it when she forgot things. She hoped he might not be too upset today.
     “There you are,” Jim's gruff voice startled her. “Where have you been, woman? You know, I work hard all day and I come home to what? No hello, no supper...”
     “I'm sorry. Sorry,” She turned to look timidly up at her husband. His eyes looked glazed from alcohol. It was a look so familiar those days.
     “Well, maybe sorry isn't good enough. 'Sorry, sorry, I'll do better.' But it never happens, woman. You never love me like you should,” He took a step toward her with a accusing finger. “Sorry doesn't cut it. For two years – two long years – I have tried to teach you how to behave. Everything I ask is so simple. Every other wife in America could do the simple things I ask.” He slapped her across the face. Kelly stumbled to the side.
     “Please, Jim, I'll -”
     “Don't whimper at me,” He roared.  
      Before she knew it, she was on the ground. Pain exploded through her. She crumbled to the linoleum floor with her eyes squeezed shut to try to bottle up the pain.
     “Maybe that will teach you,” Jim muttered as he stumbled out of the house. Kelly tried to stand. She lurched toward the phone table and cracked her arm against it. A scream escaped her trembling lips as the pain ricocheted through her bones. Kelly glanced at the front door. She hoped he wouldn't come back for awhile. Picking up the phone and balancing it on her shoulder with her ear pressed to the receiver, she dialed seven numbers. Seven numbers she had wanted to press for two years.
     “Mom? Could you... could you please come and take me to the hospital? I think I broke my arm. Maybe you could bring over a box for some of my stuff. I don't think I'll be coming back any time soon. Please hurry.” Kelly hung up the phone and sank to the floor, clutching her bad arm.


     Kelly lay recuperating in the bedroom of her childhood. Pink ponies danced across the wallpaper. Her mom had let her pick out the pattern when Kelly was seven. She had loved pink then. Come to think of it, she realized she still did. She looked down at the cast on her arm. It wasn't signed by anyone. All her friends she had left behind to have Jim. He hadn't allowed much time for friendships. She sighed heavily.
     Something in a box by the bed caught Kelly's eye. She got up from the bed, bent down, and picked it up. A smile flitted across her face. It was the barbie doll with platinum-blond hair. The doll with a broken arm, yet it smiled bravely all the same. Kelly sat down on the bed and held the Barbie for a long time. Then slowly, with a brave smile, she picked up the phone on the nightstand to call up her best friend.

-Aylin   

 

Pay it Forward!!!

Hello! We're in the Pay it Forward Blog Fest!

Basically, our blog is on a list of blogs that are participating in it, and I have to put down three blogs that I think are amazing.

So. . .First off, Wayne Thomas Batson, Enter the Door Within! 

Secondly. . . An awesome devotional blog, Forever His Servant.      

And, last but not least . . .  Pen in my Hand!

 These blogs are great, check them out!!!!

*Due to this, the winning TOTW story will be posted tomorrow* 

~Elizabeth

Reflections

How I miss the days not too far back,
The ones that make me smile and laugh,
Of all of these memories, I cannot keep track,
Without my faithful KODAK  

Ok, so it doesn't technically rhyme. . .Oh well.     

I love pictures. . .if you haven't already guessed. :)

~Elizabeth

Acting

What I'm going to write about today is yet another one of my passions: Acting.

I absolutely love doing it, and I feel like when I combine myself with the character, there's this harmony that never before existed. I LOVE that feeling.

Acting is a chance to act like someone else, feel like someone else. To BE someone else. Being up on stage. . .It feels amazing. As if I'm living a dream. As if the knights, beasts, and maidens from my dreams have become reality. What about you? How do you feel on stage? Excited? Terrified? All of the above?

~Elizabeth

Kindle

Alright, so this is for those of you who don't think the kindle is better the nook/sony ereader. . .you get it.

Maybe for a while, those ereaders were better. But no more.

Behold, the Kindle Fire!!!!!!!!   

This thing is officially amazing. Seriously. ~Elizabeth

Barbie Dolls

Because of the TOTW, I am blogging about Barbies. Well, not exactly. Like I said in the TOTW, am I the only 16 year old who plays with Barbies? Really? Maybe its not so much the fact that they are dolls as they are now a sign of "being a little girl". It seems ironic that the styles of Barbies seem to be aimed at teens. Aren't all the girls super skinny with stylish clothes? I dont think I have ever seen a Barbie being bought by a teen. Why are we too grown up for this? Maybe I still play with Barbies because I am not trying to grow up quickly. Maybe its because I still love to give my imagination a good work out everyday. I mean, I dont play with Barbies everyday, but I do pretend all the time. That is where a lot of my story ideas come from. I put myself in a situation and just imagine. I know I am an oddity. Most teens are occupied with the real world like boyfriends or school or sports or things like that. It might also be that I am homeschooled and am not really into boyfriends or sports. I do my school and then I have all the time in the world to imagine. So, I think that we are losing our imagination as teens. Now I am not saying that we need to push the real world out, but we all can use a good dose of pretending now and then. What do you think? I would love to talk about this with you in the comments. 
~Leslie

Courageous

Ok. . .So I saw the movie on opening night, and the theatre was full!!! How amazing is that?!

It's seriously an amazing movie, probably the best one by them yet. It makes you cry in some places, yet laughing in others.

Sherwood Pictures seems to get more and more professional by the movie--the acting in this one was twice as good as in all the other movies. It is SERIOUSLY worth checking out!!!!!!~Elizabeth

TOTW

Sorry! I was (and still am) sick, so I forgot to post this yesterday:



      She tried not to tremble like a leaf in the wind. He had not shouted yet, had not raised his gravelly voice a decibel, though it was as menacing as a lion's roar. The words were coated in poison. She knew it. And she knew that she must either give in or be crushed yet again.
     “It is all we ask, girl. This country is so big – has so many opportunities for a beautiful girl like you, yet you choose to rot away in prison. We do not want this. You must want this, though, for we have given you chance after chance to leave. We tire of asking, of giving the same offer that is denied time and time again,” He paused to let it sink in. “So I offer you one more time. Denounce this Jesus, and we promise to let you go. If not – you die.” Until now, she had stared straight ahead at the steel-gray buttons on the man's uniform. Now she raised them to look squarely into the man's icy, blue eyes. She willed her voice not to shake.
     “I will never deny my Savior. Do to me what you will, I will always love Jesus.”
     “Well, if you want to die – it's your choice,” He said.
     “I gladly die for the glory of the One Who died for my eternal life.” The man turned, and barked something to a guard at the cell door, who let the man out and slammed the door behind him.
     The girl sank to the dirt of her cell. She repeated the words of a Psalm she remembered the old minister having said. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me...” She knelt quietly moving her lips in prayer for an hour.
     The sudden noise of the door to her cell being opened caused her to stir. A guard entered and grabbed her roughly by her arm. He jerked her out of her cell, down a long, dim corridor, and out into the dark night. A line of prisoners stood in front of a pit. Soldiers who had rifles pointed at them stood beyond it. Some of the prisoners wept openly. They screamed for mercy. Others stood in stoic silence without a trace of fear in their eyes. The girl took her place beside a young child who looked up at her and smiled. His eyes shone with peace. A peace that she hoped she mirrored as perfectly.
     The captain gave the signal and the rifles' report echoed through the dusty hills. The girl felt a piercing pain as she collapsed into the pit. The next thing she knew were the arms of Jesus.

-Aylin