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.

Contests

Free

Her feet glided across the floor; her arms found where they were supposed to be almost without her trying.
Pique turn, pique turn, chasse, grand jete.... She sang the words inside herself, and counted in her head, and felt her new recital costume swirl around her, all while listening to the music, and dancing.
And with the arms.... It was like an out-of-body experience. She felt so magical, so.... free.

_____________________________________________________________________

Well. That was short. But I felt that I had to try to describe how I feel when I dance.

I dance ballet by the way, in case you can't tell.

(There's something for you to put about me Photography!)

Anyway, thank you for reading that!

The Ant Mound

Outside stand four people watching the rain. It is springling now, and they are trying to take photo's of an ant that is carrying food and looks like it is sword-fighting. Another is carrying an egg to another tunnel. The destroyed mound looks wet, but is full of hurrying ants.
They are all doing something, wheather it be an egg, food, rebuilding the mound, or going to find more food.
Another person comes out ready to take photo's. She goes out to a tree, and takes pictures of the leaves that have raindrops on it still. She takes a photo of a red rose and shows the other four the photo's taken.
She then goes out into the garden bed and takes photo's of a flower growing there that you would never know was planted by the owners.
The rain starts again and all five of them go inside, also because the youngest of them all, the one year old baby, was going through the ant mound.


I wrote this just now when I came in outside. It was springling, and I tried to get a photo of the ant with the food that looked like it was sword-fighting.
It was like a small stick--like a slim piece of bark that came off of a tree, and the ant was wiggling it so much, it looked as if it was sword-fighting.
Of course, none of the two out there ever got a photo of either ants--the sword-fighting one or the one with the egg...up close or alone.
The ants' mound was destroyed just a few days after it was discovered by my dad. Every year there is another ant mound(s). Except this one was huge!


Anyways, how was it? Was it good or lame? (Hey! I need to ask Photography43 if she'll import those things where it has the word like: sad, and then a box next to it and then like a: 2, to say how many people put that there...)

Thanks! :)

Bubble Mess

Hey everyone! It's Kasey/Photo! I noticed that um...no one, NO ONE has posted at all yet, and I'm saddend by that fact, but I shouldn't worry right? You all should post tonight or tomarrow right?? RIGHT?!

Also, I am hoping that all of you are warm and safe tonight!! I know  the south is being torn apart (and parts of the north) so...stay safe! Prays to you all!!

Here is a 'short story/poem/thing' for you all! Let me know what you think, the honest truth!! I wrote this a few weeks ago, and I have only shared it with one friend I know in real (and on my blog, that the real world does not know about...shhhh)...so...comments?

If you looked out a window you would see 3 babies all covered in filth, a teenage girl squatted next to the 3, hands covered in slim as the 4 sat over a purple bottle of bubble mix. The white liquid was not forming bubbles but that didn't matter. The youngest baby, a browned haired child, held a green bubble wand and with it, he spun it around in the bottle in till some spilt out. The teenager explained calmly the ways of making bubbles. You dip the wand into the liquid, then you take it out and blow slowly.

The baby kept spinning the wand inside the bottle, the oldest of the 3 babies, complained about not wanting bubbles anymore so the girl sent him inside, leaving the youngest and the blond child that was no where near related to the other two. The blond child watched, but did not touch.

The baby finally seemed to understand the girls wise wisdom and lifted the green wand to blow some bubbles. He blew and then spun the wand around again inside the bottle. Laughing the girl showed him how to do it with her wand, the little boy rose his green wand again, laughing, and blew quite horribly, but the girl didn't not mind.

If you where to look outside a window you would see the butterflies fluttering their way to a flower, if you where to look outside today you would see buildings on either side of your home. If you where to look outside you would see that same girl running the blond child inside to get cleaned up to eat, but mainly to write a short story on bubbles and little boys.

Thanks for taking the time to read! Please start posting guys! I want to do some late night reading...okay maybe not late night, but at least SOME writing!!!
Also...Will be opening the main thread in recces, so keep an eye out for that everyone who doesnt have a blog! You can comment about posts there! =)

<3

Members!

Hello everyone! Tons of people are joining, and to make it easier on myself and you awesome people I would love it if you could fill in the simple questions below in a comment (if you dont have a blog you can STILL comment! (at least i think you can) If you cant just PM me the answers on Nano)! This way I can just copy and paste them right into our members page!

• Name (please provide link to either your blog or your nano profile page) -
• Hobbies besides writing -
• Books completed-
• Working on-
• A bit about yourself

Thanks you guys! Have fun posting!! I cant wait to read your guys work! Also when you post make sure you put your name in the labels spot so people can find your work quicker!! =)

<3