Christina - Hey everyone! Photo here!

Hey everyone! This is Photo! Hope I've found you having a great night! I thought'd I'd share a piece of this story that I'm working on. This is my favorite part out of the whole thing so far so I hope you all enjoy it!!

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Prologue

“It’s like a red rash only it’s a red mark that spreads from the neck on. It really is getting worse. Ever since Karrie Wayne’s lab in San Diego exploded we’ve been having problems, its spread from California to Maine. No matter what we do to keep this thing at bay it keeps moving. We have done one thing. We’ve given this red rash a name. Impulsive. And this is only stage one.”

*

24 hours. That’s all it takes for the poison to set into your skin and start spreading. It doesn’t last long. You’re only ill for around 2-3 days before you slowly stop breathing. Apparently that Karrie Wayne was trying to help people who had trouble breathing, especially infants. Something went wrong inside and the place blew up. Karrie went with it. Now we suffer from her malfunction. She wanted to help us breath easier, instead she made it far worse. For some it hits immediately. Minutes after the 24 hours is up, it stricks. Impulsive spreads and doesn’t stop in till you’re covered in the hot, flesh burning disease, and then it attacks your lungs. Some don’t have problems; instead they fall asleep, and simply never wake up again. But others suffer without end.

It was different for Rosie, my oldest sister. She came home late one night, crying that her best friend was gone. Her throat was raw and red. A sure sign she had it. We waited up all night with her, the whole 24 hours we sat and watch re-runs of American Idol. We laughed at the ones who couldn’t sing, and cheered when we saw our favorites. When we got tired of hours of horrible singing we watched Lost and Survivor in till we fell asleep. The minute the 24 hours was up we watched to see that the red mark of death was disappearing. Finally with clear and happy minds we slept. The next day Rosie showed no signs of having Impulsive. Relived we headed into our normal routines. No need to worry. Once it hits 24 hours that’s it. You have it or you don’t. It spreads, or it doesn’t.

Rosie died 2 days later. No sign of having Impulsive, in till moments before her death. The once safe zone was no longer the safe place we thought it was. The news announced stage two:

“It’s hitting strong. Stage two is getting through clean and preserved air tanks and is killing hundreds in a matter of hours. It only takes 24 hours for the disease to get in or out of the system, but that was stage one. Stage two has other ideas. It only takes 24 hours for Impulsive to enter your system. The mark fades away. Then it only takes a few days for your system to fail or defeat the disease. Stage two has earned its new name. Invisible Pulse.”

*

Invisible Pulse hit even harder then Impulsive. So hard that it took my dad only days after losing Rosie. Mum woke one morning to find the red mark on her throat, and that was all I needed to be sent to a new safe location. She wore gloves while she packed my bags; she even wore a mask so I didn’t have to. She scrubbed the house from top to bottom while I waited for the bus. The bus that would take all the kids in our once paradise and take us to a ‘safe zone’. My story doesn’t start now, but on the bus. Moments before we reach the safe location. The moment my life takes another turn for the worst.

My name is Christina. I am the third stage, and this is my story.

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<3

Fur Lucile--by Caroline_G_Shaffer

*This was a writing prompt that I did. It was from a Peanuts Comic Strip*

 On a jubilant spring morning, Schroeder was in the living room playing on his miniature piano. Hoping that his obnoxious admirer, would not come to the door, his hopes were suddenly destroyed as the sound of the doorbell echoed in his ears. Lucy van Pelt, He opened the door.  He saw Lucy.  He quickly shut the door.  When Schroeder finally decided to open the door, he found it was already open.  Dramatically walking inside, Lucy van Pelt smiled and ran toward the piano.  He hoped she would keep her mouth shut.

 Sighing deeply, Lucy dreamily stated, “I would love to marry a man who plays the piano.” Schroeder, disturbed by her disgusting dream, ignored her idiotic remark and continued to play The Moonlight Sonata. When she realized that her admirer was not paying attention to her, Lucy slammed down the piano lid and returned to her reclining position against the piano. Schroeder was not pleased. As Lucy opened her mouth to speak, Schroeder interrupted, “WHY! Why do you always talk about getting MARRIED! Beethoven never married, AND I WILL DO THE SAME!”  Awkwardly, the two children sat quietly looking at the floor.

After a long and gruesome silence, Lucy questioned, “Didn’t Beethoven write a mysterious love song for a mysterious girl?”  When Lucy started talking, Schroeder began playing as loud as possible.  He did not hear her.  Thinking that Schroeder accidentally did not hear her, she repeated herself, this time shouting. Extremely frazzled, Schroeder explained, “Yes he did write a love song called “Fur Elise”, which is a girl’s name, but your name is NOT ELISE!” As Lucy leaned back on the miniature piano, she inquired, “Does Lucile count?”

Best Served Cold (Prologue)

The Egyptian gods have been forgotten for so long.

The girl's lips didn't move, but it was her voice that hung in the air. It seemed to belong there as much as the scent of laurel, and the rainbow that stretched behind the girl.
The girl extended her right hand, her palm facing the sky, her fingers cupped slightly, as though she were holding water. She flipped her hand over, so that her palm faced the ground, and the rainbow grew until it covered the girl, and the Grecian building behind her.
A group of people appeared. They all sat around a large wooden table, in a dark room. One lady, a beautiful Egyptian, stood, and planted her hands firmly on the table, leaning over it.
"I have a question, and I want it answered," She glared around at everyone else, and then continued, "What are we going to do about the girl?"
Everyone else was silent, and then the scene seemed to freeze, and the rain bow girl's voice spoke again.
"The Egyptian gods have been forgotten for so long. And now they want revenge."

With a start, Abri Daniels realized that she was no longer asleep, and that rainbow girl really did stand in front of her, her Grecian dress shimmering in every color Abri could think of.
"Wh-Who are you?" Abri stammered.
"That is not importent." The girl had a funny way of talking. English was clearly not her first language. But Abri couldn't place what kind of accent the girl had.
The girl extended her hand, saying, "Take my hand."
Abri gave her a funny look.
"Take my hand." The girl said firmly. Her multi-colored eyes pierced through Abri, willing her to obey.
Reluctantly, Abri consented.
"Close you're eyes." The girl commanded.
Abri obeyed. There was a sudden flash of golden light, and then every color imaginable flashed in front of Abri's closed eyes. Her head spun, her ears popped, and her feet left the ground for the briefest second, then slammed back into it. Abri's knees buckled, and she fell to the ground, hard. The ground felt like cold stone. Maybe marble.
Abri opened her eyes slowly, and gasped.


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Ta-da!!! That was the prologue of a book I'm writing, which is titled Best Served Cold. Check out the Novel info of my Sunshinesyd account for more information.
So, what do you think?

Finally

Hey everyone! Photo here! Here is a short story I origonly wrote for a contest...but I'm deleting the contest page, so...thought I'd share the entry here:

I didn’t mind the cold wind that was beginning to nib at the bare skin below my knee caps. Instead I bent and studied the foot prints, slowly tracing them with my index finger. His print had left more than just an imprint on the soft muddy ground. I rose and followed the tracks, running my hand over the bark of the trees that I passed, while I placed my own prints in his. Our hide out had long ago been destroyed by the swampy weather, but that didn’t matter. We always met at least once a month. But after he left I had started coming at least once a day, already knowing he would never show up again.

In till this morning, when I rose and headed to my favorite place, found his foot prints. His prints.
Boots on my doorstep at 5 am, finger tips on my palm. All his. I sighed as the beautiful white flowers that he used to pick to put in my hair rose over the brown mud and proceeded to make a life. Despite the nasty weather, and the past of death they continued to try to get stronger and live. Why I couldn’t I do that? Why couldn’t I believe what was in front of me?

I jumped over a log that marked our spot. The little cave that we had built so long ago was no longer the same one we had started out with. In stead it was just the log. His boot prints had passed the log, but instead of stopping he had went on. Probably to the lake, I realize as I, myself, push on. His touch is everywhere. I can see his knife’s cut on the rose bush and the blackberries. His touch on the trees, the one where I climbed to the top and got stuck and he had to go get my father. On the rocks, where he threw them at me when we were 8. The spot where he had apologized when one hit me. I saw everything, the memories I had been trying to push away were flooding back, and he might not even be around anymore! If that was so, I think, than whose prints am I following? My imagination?

I skip around the lake bed when I spot him. He is sitting on his favorite rock. The one he always claimed in the summer. It was the only smooth rock, and in the summer he would let me sit on it, while he dove deep into the cool water. I didn’t move, instead I stared at him. Not believing my eyes. Even though I already knew they were right. “How have you been?” He says, rising to his feet. I realize then that he has gotten taller. So that’s what 2 years has done to him.

“Good.” I say. “And you?”
“Fine.”
“When did you get back?”
“Late last night.” He pauses. “When did you start coming out everyday?”
I no longer trust my voice, so I stand there, and hold back my tears.
He crosses over to me, and he is only a foot away. “When?” He asks.
“What does it matter?” I spit out. My voice cracks.
“I’ve been here too.” He looks up at the sky. “Only in my head.”
We are silent for the longest moment before I speak. “I started coming the day you left.” I’m staring at his boots.
“I know.”
“So what now? How long are you staying?” I look up at him, at his sparkling green eyes, and brown hair.
“Kallie, I plan to stay for a while.” His eyes search mine. “For as long as I can.”
“They don’t need you anymore?”
“No. They won’t need me for a very long time.” He looks up at the sky again. “Ya know, the day I left, I realized I had made the biggest mistake of my life. I realized when I saw your face through the window, you weren’t crying, but you weren’t smiling either.” He looks down at me and pushes a strand of hair away. “I realized that I didn’t want war or anything like that. I wanted you.”
For a moment I’m in that lake, I’m diving deep into the cool water, the refreshing truth, and I say one word. The word that tells us both that we are complete, the word that tells me that everything I have ever wanted has been right here. The word that binds us together forever. “Finally.”

Thanks for reading! Let me know your thoughts :)

What do you think?

Hello, Sallah213 here, using Photo's account(she let me, don't worry!).  I wrote a story, and was wondering if you guys could critique/tell me what you think about it.  Thanks!  Here it is:

Chapter 1

April 8^th, 2011

Call me Rej.  Before we get any farther, it’s pronounced like singular letters.  Not “Rezh”, like it looks, but “Are-Ee-Jay”.  R-E-J.  Singular letters.  Let’s keep going now.

Rej, of course, isn’t my actual name.  Rej is short for Reggie which is short for Reginald which isn’t short for anything.  My last name is Turner, and I some how ended up in a family where girls outnumber guys.  But, enough about me.  Let’s move onto the story, now.

I took a slow step forward, hoping against hope that Dad wouldn’t hear me.  One more step to go and I would out of the house.  I could probably make it to Ruthie’s house in 2 minutes, and Star’s in 4. 

“Reginald, what are you doing?”

I resisted the urge to swear under my breath and turned around.  “Hey, Mira.”

My mother, Mira Turner, stood at the bottom of the stairs, hands on hips.  I was in deep sneakers.  Crud.

“Reginald, what have we told you about sneaking out of the house at 3 o’clock in the morning?”  My mother said exasperatedly.

“Not to do it?”  I offered, taking an oh-so subtle step towards the door.  If I could move fast, I would probably be able to get out before Mira could catch me.  If I actually got outside, she wouldn’t follow me.

Pause a moment.  I just realized I called her Mira, and you’re probably wondering why I call her by  her first name.  Well, my Dad was previously married, which is why I have my half-sister, Kizi, and he remarried my mother.  Mira’s awfully young, though.  Like, 28?  And my Dad is, like, 40.  It’s really wrong.  Especially seeing as I just turned 13, and I’m sure you can do the math.  But, I call her Mira because she doesn’t feel like my mom at ALL.

“And don’t think I didn’t notice that sneaky back move with your foot.”

Dang.  “How about you go check on Nora? I think I hear her upstairs.”  Nora is my 5-year-old sister.  She shares the same parents as me, unlike Kizi, who only shares my Dad.

“I’m not falling for that, mister,” Mira snapped.

“Falling for what?” I said, too innocently.

Mira sighed and tapped her foot at me.

“What’s going on down there?”  Kizi’s voice echoed down from the upstairs.

“Karoline, go back to bed,” Mira called in a loud whisper.

Karoline is Kizi’s actual name, if you hadn’t picked up that Kizi isn’t her name, by now.  Kizi sort of pretends that Kizi is her actual name, though, and she doesn’t really respond well to Karoline, which drives Mira up the wall.

“Who should go back to bed?”  Kizi responded, a warning tone in her voice.  Yes, Kizi does have an attitude, even at 3 o’clock in the morning.

“Karoline, now.  What the—Reginald, get back here!”  Mira said exasperatedly, as I dashed out the door.

“Thank you, Kizi,” I muttered under my breath, charging down the street.  I skidded to a stop right  before Ruthie’s house and waited anxiously for her to come out.

          “Yo, Rej.”

          I jumped almost a foot in the air.

          “Ruthie, don’t do that.”

          Ruthie, with her short, cropped curly brown hair and blue eyes with matching blue glasses, grinned at me.  She was almost the same height as me, and practically two years younger.  “I thought it was funny.”

          “Of course you did,” I responded, rolling my eyes.  “Let’s head over to Star’s, now.”

          Let me explain a little bit.  Ruthie, Star and I have a sort of ‘club’ though we’re too old to call it that.  Our ‘club’ doesn’t technically have a name, though we always joke that our motto should be “We do most things within reason” and the name ‘Within Reason’ had sorta stuck.

          Starforest, or Star, who’s actual name was Aria, lived about a block from Ruthie’s, so Ruthie and I had to walk a little ways.

          “How’s life?”  I asked Ruthie.

          “Boring.  Too boring.  Freakishly boring,” Ruthie replied, adjusting her glasses.  “You?”

“Same.  Kizi and I are both starting to lose it with Mira.  She acts like she rules the world, but she’s actually only about 11 years older than Kiz.  I don’t know why Dad married such a…kid,” I trailed off.

Ruthie sighed.  “I’m sorry, Rej,” she said genuinely.  Then she brightened.  “You can live at my house!”

I laughed.  “I wish.  But don’t you already have enough guys?”

“Two brothers, one more can’t hurt.  Plus, you’re nicer than them,” Ruthie said, grinning.

“Why, thank you,” I said, doing an overcomplicated bow and causing Ruthie to laugh again.  “It is my pleasure to serve thou, great maiden.”

Ruthie grinned and pretended to curtsy.  Yes, we’re crazy sometimes.  Just wait till Star comes into the picture.

Then, Ruthie got serious.  “Mira’s, what, 27?”

“28,” I corrected automatically. 

“And you just turned 13 last week.”

I nodded.  “And Kizi’s gonna be 17 on April 14^th.  So in a week.”

“So she’s really not that much older than you.”

“Mira? Yeah.”

Ruthie sighed.  “She’s a little…”

“Weird? Stupid? Annoying? A jerk? Yes,” I said, annoyed at Mira even though she wasn’t there.  “I don’t know why Dad married somebody that’s, like, 20 years younger than him.”

“We’re here,” Ruthie said, stopping in front of Star’s house. 

“HeyguyshowareyouwhattookyousolongI’vebeenwaitingforlikeforever!!!!!”  Star ran out, energetic, bubbly and blonde as always, from her backyard, grabbed our arms, and less than a minute later we were all sitting in Star’s treehouse.

“Sooooo….”  Star began.

“I now call this meeting of Within Reason to order,” Ruthie said, plugging her nose and making her voice sound high pitched and squeaky.  

Star giggled.

“Now the role call,” Ruthie cleared her throat.  “Starforest of Faerie aka Aria Emerson?”

Starforest of Faerie was Star’s full name.  Aria Emerson was her actual name.  We just called her Star.  When Star had first moved here about 6 years ago, she had told us her name was Starforest of Faerie, and that she was the queen of all faeries.  Ruthie and I had officially liked her and inducted her into our club.  She doesn’t go by Starforest of Faerie much anymore, now that she’s 12, but we still call her Star.

Star waved her hand in the air.  “Present!”

“Good,” Ruthie said through her plugged nose.  “Reginald Turner who is more commonly referred to as Rej Turner or just Rej?”

“Present.”  I grinned.

“Ruthie Farner, who has no nickname as of yet?”  Ruthie asked, pausing momentarily before pretending to realize that was herself. “Oh, right, present.”

Star cracked up and I grinned.

“Now,” Ruthie said, running a hand through her hair.  “Star, any news in your life?”

Starforest was an orphan, but had been adopted by an elderly couple.  They were more like Grandparents than actual parents, but Star didn’t seem to mind.  They were incredibly lenient, though.  For example, they let their child run around wildly in their backyard at 3 o’clock in the morning.  Ruthie’s parents didn’t seem to realize that she left at all.  Unlike certain underage parents. Not that I’m naming any names, though…

“I have good news, and bad news,” Star said slowly, thinking hard.

“Bad news first,” I responded, yawning.  It WAS 3 o’clock in the morning, no matter which way we sliced it, so I was mildly tired.

“Okay. Bad news is, we’re going on vacation for this entire week, so I’m not going to be here for all of spring break.”

“Aw, man,” Ruthie said glumly.

“Where are you going?  Some place warm?” I asked, always the optimist.  Plus, it wasn’t hard to be warmer than Wisconsin.

“Florida,” Star told us.  “My parents think that I should see Disney World before I turn 13.”

“Ah.”  Ruthie adjusted her position on the hard wooden floor of the treehouse.  “What’s the good news?”

“The good news is, that my parents agreed to getting me a dog! So we’re gonna buy a puppy tomorrow!” Star squealed.

“OMG, that is awesome,” Ruthie said, grinning.

I laughed.  “Cool, Star!”

“Thanks,” Star said happily.

“Rej? You got any news?”  Ruthie asked.

“Yeah, bad news, no good news, though,” I said, sitting up straight and preparing to tell them the horrid news I had received last night.

“Crud,” Ruthie said.  “But, okay.  Bad news it is.”

“So, you know how I mentioned a few days ago that Kizi is looking for Colleges?”

Ruthie and Star nodded.

“Well, she found one,” I said, “but it’s far away.”

“Far away as in…?” Star prompted.

“Far away as in England,” I replied, lowering my voice.

“Oh,” Ruthie said, putting a hand over her mouth.  “Oh, no.”

She knows what’s coming, I thought to myself.  Ruthie, despite being the youngest, sometimes felt like she was the same age as I was.  She understood me better than Star did.  Don’t get me wrong, Star’s great, but she can sometimes act a lot younger than she actually is.

“So, Dad and Mira were discussing Kiz going there, and they don’t feel comfortable with her being there by herself for some stupid reason.” I took a breath before continuting.   “So we’re… we’re…we’re moving.  To England,” I whispered the last bit, swallowing hard.  I hated going over these depressing conversations.  Hated it.

It took a moment for that to sink in.

“Oh, no,” Star said slowly.  “That’s bad.”

“Yeah,” Ruthie said, watching me closely.

I just nodded, numbly.

“When?”  Ruthie asked.

“When what?”

“When are you moving?”

“Oh.” I thought for a moment, trying to remember.  “I think they said December.”

“Holy cow, this December?!” Star demanded, eyes wide.  “That’s only, like, 9 months!”

I nodded again.

“This is probably going to be the last 9 months we’re going to spend together with all three of us,” Ruthie said, breaking the silence after Star’s words.

I looked at her.

“What…do you mean, exactly?” asked Star.

“Well, do you think any of our parents will go over seas to see the other family? Nope,” Ruthie began, and I sensed one of Ruthie’s long rants ahead.  “We could use Skype or Gmail, but Star doesn’t have a computer. I mean, Rej and I could still video chat or something, but what’s the likelihood that we’ll be online at the same time?  What with the time difference between here and England.  We could call each other, but, again, time differences interfere.  Plus, when you get to Englad, Rej, will you be homeschooled again?”

I shook my head.

“So, Rej will have normal school to worry about.  We could write letters, but that’d take about 2 weeks to arrive, so we wouldn’t hear from each other for a month or two,” Ruthie said.  “Then, we could—,”

“Look, Ruthie, you’re not helping,” I intervened, feeling slightly annoyed and incredibly upset.  “Do you not realize that I’ve spent the last 12 hours that I’ve known about us moving thinking about these exact same things? Do you not realize that I didn’t get any sleep last night because I was crying?  Do you not realize that this entire scenario SUCKS and that you are not helping one tiny OUNCE?”  My voice had steadily been rising and now I was almost shouting.  It took a lot to get me upset.  Moving was enough, and Ruthie, well, sometimes she just made situations worse.  I didn’t blame her though, I could tell she was freaking out inside of her head.

“I…Rej, I’m sorry,” Ruthie said quietly, her face showing the shock that she felt.

“Me too, Rej,” Star said.

I took a few controlled breaths before answering.  “It’s okay.  I’m just so…so…depressed.”

“It’s gonna be okay,” said Star reassuringly.  “I’m sure it is.”

I smiled faintly at her.

Ruthie put a hand on my shoulder.  “Do you want to move to England?”

“No, that’s what I’ve been saying this entire ti—,”

“Then you’re not going to move to England.  We’ll figure something out.”

I looked straight into Ruthie’s face and realized that she was deadly serious.

“Okaaaay,” I responded slowly, unsure whether to be filled with gratitude, or confused as to what she meant.

“Oh, my God!” Star said suddenly, causing Ruthie and I to jump.

“What?” asked Ruthie.

“I have a plan,” Star said, mischievously.

“What…sort of plan?”  I asked.  Mischievous + Star = Trouble.

“A plan to keep you here.”

Ruthie glanced at me, as if waiting to see my approval. 

“I don’t see why not,” I said with a shrug.

Star grinned.

And so the planning began.

Would you read more?

The captain of U.S.S.A Seventh Generation walked forward. “We will be leaving today. Engineering?” She called.

“All systems functional.”

“Good. Let’s get into orbit of Earth. Pilot Calvin, take us out on thrusters…”

The ship lifted off the ground. They were heading to the colony of Mars, checking in on it. What no one knew on that ship was that not to far away, children were being taken away… to be put on these ships. Earth was preparing for war--and this was coming from an old lady. So old, she was. Ninety-nine…and they believed her. Sad part was, was that she was right. Often she would sing a song. She would sing it in front of these children training. She was singing,

‘In The Battle of Kerak,

There will be no heroes.

To be one, you have to do something heroic;

Because all slots are taken for being a hero.

So, to open one,

You must do something heroic enough to replace one…

Too become a hero.

But YOU will not be a hero,

In The Battle of Kerak.’

She sung.
One child would rebel after this song and reply with a song, too. It would sing:

‘Tell me why,

Tell us why,

Tell why there will be no heroes,

In the battle.

How, do we do something so

Heroic?

Tell me,

How do I become,

Heroic enough?

Tell us why!

Tell us why we will not cut the line,

Now!’

The old lady said nothing. She listened to the song, and continued her song.
Only few children would witness this battle for real…and some just a bit over-date.
On the ship, the captain ordered them to land a mile from the colony. She sent a search party, to check up on things, as she was urged to stay.
Less than two hours later, the party was teleported back. The war, had already begun.


Thanks! :)
I just wanna know! I'll be posting it on the Story Swap Meet on the Nano site in a min.! Thanks again! :)

Locked Doors (a poem)

Everywhere I turn there are doors,

But all are locked,

I turn the knobs,

But all they do is jingle.

Behind each door,

I hear my name being called,

Loud and strong,

Soft and sweet,

At the end of the hall,

I see a bright light,

A door is wide open,

My name written all over it,

I enter slowly,

I am wrapped in His love,

On the right track,

In till I must find a new door,

One that will,

Make me stronger in Him,

And lead me,

Further in to Him.

This was is like...my 4th poem. Ever. My first one I wrote after my doggie died in '10. I wrote a prose for school in march, and then I wrote another one today for my mum. Plus this one = 4. :) Let me know what you think.

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