Wednesday, 10 December 2014

Peanut Butter.

"And behold, Moses pulled out his hand, and it was leprous-- or however that verse goes," Ivan grinned nervously, staring at the fading yellow-white on the back on his hand. In a few seconds the skin was only red, chapped, and tight-feeling, and he shoved it back under his leg.

Nellie slid a sigh from her mouth, and picked at the chipping paint on the wall. Ivan tapped her hand into her lap. "That isn't your paint or wall, Nellie.

"It's just a wall," Nellie said, as if the fact were very obvious. She stared at Ivan, and then folded her arms and started chewing the inside of her lip.

Ivan swallowed and shifted his feet. I wish everyone would stop staring at me like that when I try to protect other people's property. "I was just thinking that it wasn't right to pick at the paint," he defended.

"You're paranoid, Ivan," Nellie remarked.

"I know," Ivan moped. He rubbed his knuckles against the palm of his hand. "I wish they would come out of that room!"

His sister slid across the bench and up against him. "I know; they've been in there for ninety-four minutes. I was counting the minutes and then checking the lock to make sure I was right."

"Being paranoid runs in the family," Ivan smiled. He shivered and leaned his head against the top of Nellie's. "I miss Penny."

Nellie looked up at him, a startled look on her face. "I never get used to you speaking what you think so suddenly." She kissed his cheek. "I miss her, too. Michael looks a lot like she did when she was little."

"Do you realize that I haven't seen him in a year and three months?" Ivan asked, his stomach trembling as if he was about to get in trouble for something.

Nellie bit her lip. "No. I wish it had been easier."

"I wish it had been different." Ivan cleared his throat and sniffed. "I want to know he's going to be okay."

"Well, Dr. Glynn--"

"I want to see him and know because I saw," Ivan said quickly. "I don't like just believing. I want to see and know."

"Why haven't they let you see him?" Nellie asked. "Mom wouldn't tell me back when I found out about the accident."

"Because of the accident. They though I wasn't fit to be his father."

"It wasn't your fault, Ivan. You weren't trying to be irresponsible."

"I know. I've been waiting for fifteen months to tell him and everyone else that, because they wouldn't listen before."

"Who's idea was it to build the treehouse?" Nellie asked.

Ivan sighed. "It was my idea, and my idea to take Michael up in it while we were building." He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket. "I didn't mean to build it the wrong way, Nellie. I thought I had built it the way it was supposed to, and then it collapsed."

Ivan tried to shove the image of the falling wood and branches from his mind. His wife, his son, all falling, and himself safe on the ground, a hammer beside him.

"The hurricane made everything unstable," Nellie snapped, as if she were again defending him in court. "You tried to make everything safe. You weren't being irresponsible."

"I should haven worked on it by myself, and then neither of them would have been in it. I still remember the crash."

Nellie folded her fingers into his. "Michael has been in rehab, and he's all right."

Ivan wiped his eyes. "Finally. I feel like I've waited a hundred years. How big is he by now?"

"Mm, about like this," Nellie said, holding her hand out. "He wants top see you, Ivan. He remembers you."

"I would think they'd want him to forget and dislike me."

"I didn't let them," Nellie said firmly. "I talked to him about you whenever I saw there, and I gave him your picture, but one from your twenty-seventh birhtday party, whrn you had peanut butter on her nose."

"You could have chosen a different pictyure," Ivan grumped.

"Yes, but it made him laugh. It helped him know who you are," Nellie said. "Ypir other pioctures are nice, but you don't want him to be shy of you. You want him to know who you're like. He doesn't remember that he was theo ne who put the penut butter on your nose, and that he then licked it after the picture was taken."

"Why didn't you tell him? You had a year and three motnhs to."

"You can tell him." Nellie stood up and went across the hospital hall to the door. "I'll bde back in a momewnt. They should be about ready."

Ivan cracked one of his knuckles. He felt nervous and trembly and numb. Pulling his hand from under his leg, he saw that it was "leprous" again. He got to his feet and rubbed his knuckles against his palm. Finally. I wish they would come in.

Nellie came back into the room. Michael was walking behind her. His blonde hair was just like Penny's.

Letting go of Nellie's shirt, Michael ran over to Ivan. Ivan picked up his son and hugged him, his tears dissolving into the little boy's sweater. "I missed you, Michael."

Michael looked at Ivan and smiled. "You don't have any more peanut butter on your nose, daddy."


This was for December's Chatterbox, the theme of which was "Waiting Fulfilled," over at Rachel's blog.



Wednesday, 5 November 2014

A Letter.

I am not being the best of posters for this blog. Therefore, I am posting. Lately, I haven't been doing that much writing, for different reasons which I shall not discuss here, but I am going to pst what I can. So, I give you a letter.

But, before I do, I will explain. This is going to be a letter from one of my characters, from one of my Historical Fiction Short Story characters. Now, no one has to do this if they don't want to, but it might be fun if I post a letter from one of my characters, and either you or one of your characters if you write answers, either in the comments, or you can leave a link to your blog. Who knows, maybe it'll be fun fun. :) The characters may be writing from any time in the story, or perhaps after.

Dear Readers,

My name is Carlos Ruiz, and I am thirteen years old. I am right now in the Mexican army of Santa Anna, with my older brother Lucas. We are waiting outside the Alamo, near the city of San Antonio, ready to attack the Texans inside.

I have a question. What would you do in my position? My brother Lucas has conflicting feelings. He has discovered he does not want to kill the Texans, but he has a strong and deep loyalty to our horrible leader, Santa Anna, despite his cruelties. I know that my brother will fight to the death for his country and government, but I wish him to live. It would be of no avail to try to persuade him to turn against our leader.

Now for me. Who should I stand for? Our country's leader is a terrible one, but the Texans are wrong to rebel, are they not? Which side should I stand for? Should I desert the army of my country, leaving my brother? I could go and help the rebellious Texans, but what if they are the wrong ones?

But how can I help such a cruel dictator as Santa Anna? Are there no answers for me? You, who live much later in time than 1836, may know.

Sincerely,
           
             Carlos Ruiz

Friday, 17 October 2014

"Tapping Trees."

Rex held her hand tightly, leading her across the yellowing grass. "Walk slowly."

"Okay." Megan slid her thumb over his, her skin feeling the rough calluses on his knuckle. Her feet moved over lumpy roots sticking out from the earth and she bit the inside of her mouth deciding that she knew where she was.

He pulled her hand and she ran her fingers over the rough bark of a tree. "It's time to tap."

Megan smiled. "I thought I wouldn't be able to help this year."

Laughing, Rex handed her a bucket. "We need your help, Megan. With eight workers on that strike, and Gerald in the hospital, there are only fifteen of us, and over a thousand trees."

"Whose maple is this?"

"Eddie's," Rex said quietly, beginning the process of tapping.

Megan crouched down and touched the grave. "I miss him, Rex."

Rex wrapped her hair through his fingers. "So do I. Here are your tools. You can work on Susan's tree."

Megan walked a few feet to another sugar maple, her hand on Susan's grave as she started to work. The maple grove filled with tappings and scrapings, and Megan found her way to Rex, who had moved on to more trees.

"Are the children's' trees completed?" she asked, smiling, though her mouth felt numb and sad.

"I've only done Eddie's. The last one to do is Bartholomew's tree."

Megan held Rex's arm. "This one's hard. If I had been where he was, he could have lived."

Rex kissed her cheek. "You don't need to tap it by yourself. I'll help you."

They walked to Bartholomew's tree and Rex did the tapping while Megan sat by the grave. "Are you ready?" Rex asked gravely, giving her his hand to help herself up.

"Yes." Megan felt a shuddering sigh coming into her chest, and she sucked in her breath and stomach at the same time.

Rex put his hand his hers, and they set the bucket. When the last bit of work was done, Rex stuck their fingers under the sap coming out and put them up to Megan's mouth.

She laughed a little.

"Lick them!" Rex said, taking her other hand. "Or else the sap will dry and my fingers will be all sticky and I'll have to use that special soap thing to get them un-sticky."

Megan licked their fingers, and then dipped their other hands into the sap so Rex could lick.

Rex licked her fingers, then held her hands together in his. "How much maple syrup do you think we'll make this year?"

"A lot of it," Megan whispered, quoting Bartholomew. She leaned her forehead against Rex's. "Ho much do you think we'll eat before it's in the bottles?"

"A lot of it." Rex kissed her, the sap on his cheek touching her nose.

Megan hugged his shoulders. "I love you, Rex."

"I love you, Megan." Rex touched her eyelids. "Do you remember how the tree looked last year?"

Megan nodded. "Yeah. Eddie's and Susan's are orange, and Bartholomew's is red."

Rex looped his arm through hers. "Bartholomew's favorite color was red."

Megan picked up a leaf from the ground. "This one is red, right?"

Tucking the leaf into her hair, Rex folded his hands around the back of her neck. "Yes. You don't need your eyesight to tell, do you?"

"No. I could just kind of guess, knowing we were near Bartholomew's tree."

"Do want to climb it?"

"Yes."

Rex hoisted her up and she felt for a branch to hold onto. Once they were in the branches, Rex put his arm around her waist. "Dear Lord, please help us as we remember our children. We miss them, and wish they hadn't gone, but You know best. Please comfort us, help us with Megan's blindness, and give us your mighty, powerful strength to keep going each day. Thank you for these trees, and their bright colors. They can remind us of You, and how despite all the darkness that we see, there is still the color of Your love."

Megan brushed her fingers against the leaf. "In Jesus' Name, Amen."



This month's Chatterbox theme was Maples.


Thursday, 2 October 2014

Coming Summer 2015...

Have any of my followers ever watched any of the YouTube web series that are out there?

WELL. Beginning in the summer of 2015, (so long away! :/) a new web series called Masked is coming out! It is a modern-day adaptation of The Scarlet Pimpernel!


Here is the button!

Masked


Please click on the button above to go to the Masked Twitter page! Also, click here or here to get more information! And now we only have to wait until summer! That is... eight months! :/

Tuesday, 30 September 2014

Louis Benett-- Beautiful People.

This is super late, but here is my Beautiful People post! I'm doing Louis Benett, from my story A Matter of Trust that needs some serious revision. I need to actually get around to doing it.

1. What is their motive?

Hmm, does Louis have a motive? He does things because he wants to, or because he wants revenge. Yeah, revenge can be a factor, at least for part or the main thing of what he does in the story.

2. What do they want, and what are they prepared to do to get it?
Revenge. Louis will do anything to take revenge on anyone who had hurt him or wronged him. Jacques happens to be the person he's after.

3. How do they deal with conflict?
Violence, usually, or else sickly sweet, cunning words to try and slide his way out of whatever situation or conflict he's in.

4. Describe their current place of residence.
Umm, well, it depends where in the story. But before the story began he was in a jail cell in Calais. 

5. If they were writing this story, how would it end?
Heh. Well, answering that could give away some stuff, so can I just say that things would end differently than they do, and in Louis' favor?

6. What habits, speech patterns, etc. are unique to them?
I'm not sure if he has any.

7. How do they show love? What do they like to do with/for people they love?
Louis never loved anyone but his sister, who died of tuberculosis when she was eight and he was eleven. He doesn't make any show of love, but mostly was just rude to her whenever they were together. He isn't the best in showing love. He liked to pinch the back of her neck. He would care for her when she was sick, and wanted to be with her when she got tuberculosis, but he wasn't allowed.

8. Do they have any pets?
Nope, Louis doesn't want to have any, because he would have to take care of them.

9. Where would they go to relax/think?
Anywhere where there's plenty of money, so probably a bank.

10. What is their weapon of choice? (FYI: words, eyes/looks, and fists count as weapons, too.)
A pistol.





Thursday, 11 September 2014

Alphabet for 9/11.

A mother, carrying her
Baby into the
Center of World Trade.
Down a hallway and up seemingly
Eternel stairs they go to a high up
Floor.
Going into the office, mama,
Holding her baby with one arm,
Inspects her progress from the previous day.
Just as she is about to begin her work,
Katelyn, her baby, begins to cry.
Leaving her computer,
Mama takes her baby down to the lobby,
Not knowing what is going to happen to the upper floors she just left.
Over the buildings of New York, a
Plane flies, and then crashes deliberately into the World Trade Center.
Quickly, as the building rocks and shakes, panicked people
Run, trying to get away from the crumbling tower to
Safety.
Terrorists have attacked the World Trade Center and in
Under half-an-hour, the other tower is hit by another plane.
Very terrified, mama and Katelyn stand and cry
With some of the other people who were not killed in the attack.
Xavier, mama’s husband, has been injured, though not killed.
Years after the attack, Katelyn will still see the pain and hurt left by the
Zealous terrorism that happened to America, on September 11, 2001.
~Molly Weston

Tuesday, 2 September 2014

Snippet Time Again.


“Perhaps real princesses don’t blame their parents for things. I want to be a princess, but what I know doesn’t leave my mind. I know it is their fault. And what makes it worse it that I can’t do anything to make it not so.” ~Happily Never After

“Then President Bush picked up The Pet Goat again and began to read. I felt very calm and relieved all of the sudden, as if I had just been saved from an attack of some sort. My feelings were somewhat true, for none of us kids knew that what that the man had whispered into the President’s ear was that a second plane had crashed into one of the Twin Towers, and that America was under attack. ~He Kept Reading



       Lenard laughed. “I sure do, Stew. Heh, that rhymes. Maybe I should go into the poetry line of work...”
       “Lenard,” Stewart said evenly, icily, “if you do not pay attention I will come and personally cut your head off.” ~Beauty and the Beast Retelling Story That Doesn't Yet Have An Official Name

      “I don’t know, Greg. It is the chance I’ve been waiting for and wanting for over five years… but how can I leave you? You need my care.”
     Greg winced, as if he had wished her to say something different than what she had. “Does it really mean a lot to you? Going to Africa?” he asked softly, rising to his feet. 
     “Yes,” Barbara whispered.
     “Then go and take the job.” ~Same as Above

      The trunk was open. From where she was, she couldn't see into it, but if she went closer.... Barbara clasped her hands together. Greg had told her not to touch his trunk, but if she did look, she might be able to understand what had happened to her fiancĂ©. ~Same As Above



       Officer Stone looked at Lenard. “What do I say now?” he whispered.
       Lenard shrugged. “I’m not sure,” he muttered. “I never planned this far ahead.” ~Same As Above




Wednesday, 20 August 2014

"Will There be Cake? I Love Cake."

Anne-girl is starting a new blog! It's called Half-Baked and is for writing stories. It is being launched or whatever you would call that on September 1st, and I hear read that there is to be a giveaway! (Ooh, something free! :D)

So hasten over to Anne-girl's blog, linked to earlier, to find out more details!


Half Baked

Anyone know what the title quote is from? :)

Saturday, 16 August 2014

A Giveaway at Rachel's Blog.

Over at Rachel's blog, she is having a giveaway. The giveaway includes: Five Glass Slippers, Fly Away Home, and Eats Shoots and Leaves. Head over to her blog if you want to learn more about it!


Thursday, 14 August 2014

Today Is August 14th.

"Yes," you may say, "It is indeed August 14th, and why is Molly being so obvious?"

Well.

Today is my sister Anne-girl's birthday, and she is seventeen. Now, on my... was it last year's birthday? I believe it was. Anyway, on whatever birthday it was, she gave me a piece of paper-- two, actually, but I'm focussing on one-- that was a note. A note from her characters, from some of them, at least.

In the note, her characters (well, Roddy, but some of the others had their names at the bottom) told me to keep going. You see, the note was for when I was discouraged in writing. It told me to keep going and a few other things that, I will say, are very nice. :)

So, to explain why I am bringing all this up, I will let this post be finished. (Did that make sense?)

Dear Anne-girl,
We are copycats, aren't we? Apparently we aren't smart enough to think of original birthday presents, but I guess since Molly gave you the credit for the idea-- and if she didn't, we do now-- we can't get arrested for copyright and all, can we?
Hope not. My name is Jacques-- perhaps you have heard of me? Yes, I know you have, because you drew a picture of me, and two of my colleagues. Well, at least, it was the back of us. Our faces were not visible. 
I am straying from the purpose of this note.
Myself and Arthur and Rita and Barbara and Greg are here to say that Molly really likes your writing. Why isn't she saying this herself? Remember, we're copying. :P
Molly has wept and smiled over your stories about Eric and Nicolas and Roddy-- a jolly good fellow-- oh wait, I'm not British; I'm French. Whatever.
Ahem. I, Arthur, have stolen the keyboard away from Jacques, for his writing of the note was going rapidly downhill.
What we are going to say is this: you're a great writer, and you should keep going. Even when it's hard. Because you have quite a few people who enjoy and maybe even LOVE your stories and certain characters in them. Not every writer os aspiring writer or whatever gets that. You have a talent for this, and you should keep going.
~ Greg, Barbara, Arthur, Rita, Jacques.




Tuesday, 5 August 2014

Lenard Cox-- Age 22.

Time once again for Beautiful People! I will be focussing on Lenard Cox from my Beauty and the Beast retelling. Oh, by the way, how does the title: The Scars of War sound to you? I would like to give this story a definite title, and I would like to know your opinion.

1) What does your character regret the most in their life? 
Not buying a super yo-yo when he was sixteen. His next-door-neighbor, Jesse, got one, and lorded it over Lenard all through the rest of high school. It was very trying.

2) What is your character's happiest memory? Most sorrowful memory? 
The time he won an egg sandwich eating contest when he was eight. He ate eleven and three-quarters. The most sorrowful memory? After the contest, when he threw-up.




3) What majorly gets on your character’s nerves? 
Brushing his teeth.

4) Do they act differently when they're around people as opposed to being alone? If so, how? 
When he's alone, Lenard likes to juggle. He can actually do five balls at once. But in public, he gets too bumbled and jumpy to do it right. So basically, he's more coordinated when alone then with people.

5) What are their beliefs and superstitions? (Examples: their religion or lack of one, conspiracy theories, throwing salt, fear of black cats.) 
 Lenard doesn't have any superstitions, but he has a fear of cats, because once his aunt was bit by one. She didn't die, but Lenard is too afraid of just plain getting bit to go near felines.

6) What are their catchphrases, or things they say frequently? 
Maybe "oh" or "um?" Though maybe he doesn't say those too, too much.

7) Would they be more prone to facing fears or running from them? 
Running.

8) Do they have a good self image? 
Sort of. When he's by himself, yes, When he's with Stewart, no.

9) Do they turn to people when they're upset, or do they isolate themselves? 
Lenard lives alone, so he doesn't really have anyone to turn to. Besides, he has a good habit of bouncing out of upsetment, which is good because Stewart can be really mean to him. So, I guess kind of neither.

10) If they were standing next to you would it make you laugh or cry? 
At least smile, maybe laugh.



Monday, 4 August 2014

The End of the July Challenge.

Actually Finishing Something in July is over. Here are the final questions.

Did you reach your goal?

No, but I was close! I only had... I think three stories left. And Author's Notes, perhaps. Though I'm not sure about that.

What was the most difficult part of finishing something this July?

Mmm, trying to finish, perhaps? But maybe that wasn't really difficult, just rushed. 

Did you maintain a writing schedule? How often did you write to meet your goal?

I wrote nearly every week day, excepting a few, I believe. So I guess I could call that a schedule, right?

List some of the musical tracks/artists you listened to most frequently this July. 

I listened to a lot of stuff: How to Train Your Dragon, Pirates of the Caribbean, Star Trek, Star Wars, (I'm guessing, I believe, because this is some of the stuff I usually listen to) and a few musical songs, I think.

Snippets! Share some of your July writing. 

Sure! These are from the stories I have edited this month, not necessarily new stuff. :P But this first one is new, I believe.

“Victoria, when you grow up,” mother said, her hand on her daughter’s cheek, “you must always remember that you are a lady. No matter what happens to you, you must act maturely, and with grace and poise. A true lady does not have to be rich in wealth, only in maturity. You will remember that, won’t you, my dear?” ~Victoria
*
Jeffrey had seen the sight many times, and each time had been horrible, but this time was worse. He knew Albert well.
“Aim,” came the brisk call, and the soldiers in the line lifted their rifles to shoulder height. Albert’s eyes were on the sky.
“Fire!” ~After Four Long Years
*
After a few minutes, he spoke again. “I don’t understand you.”
She smiled slightly, bitterly. “I could say the same for you.”
He frowned. “You could have let me be killed, but instead you saved me. Why?” ~Friend or Foe?
*
“John Trevor Skinner, how long has it been since this was last washed?” mother demanded sternly, holding up one of my uniform shirts. Her eyes were solemn but I thought I saw her lips wiggling a little bit, like she was going to laugh.
“Two weeks or so,” I said slowly. ~We Regret To Inform You...
*
Annie leaned her head against Bernice’s shoulder, closed her eyes to block out thoughts of war and pain and death, and listened the wind and the stream, and Jacob’s voice in her head.
Here in Oregon in my home, Annie. I don’t want to leave it.
Annie scraped her tongue across her teeth. What if he’s left it forever now? ~Time of War, Time of Peace
Pick a character from your July writing project and describe his or her daily wardrobe. Imagine how this character would dress is he or she were living in the year 2014. (This is your excuse to play with Pinterest and Polyvore. You're welcome.) 

Okay.... Victoria, from the story that is right now being called Victoria, but may have a changed title if I can think of one, usually wears a... well, she might wear something like this:


But today, she might wear something like...  this:






Tuesday, 29 July 2014

One Year Ago.

One year ago on this date, July 29th, I made my first post on this blog, To Write Something Worth Reading. I have been blogging on this blog for a year! Wow! Thank you to all my followers for... well, following. And commenting! Without you, I wouldn't have anyone to write this blog for except myself. :P

Anyways, just a quick post to say that this blog is one year old! Yippee!


Oh, and I watched Newsies for the first time last night! :D

You know, probably all of this post can be read from the little preview thingy. :D Oh well. :)

Monday, 28 July 2014

A Story For You.

Let me please tell you a story.

Once upon a time, on April 2nd, 2013, a girl began to write a story, opening with this not-edited sentence.

There was doubt about it that it was the same thing every time they went.

The girl is me. That sentence, missing a "no" after the second word, was the very first real sentence of the first draft of my book: The Lost World. That book is what I want to write about today. For that book, which has come a LONG way since those first few ideas and sentences, is now a published work.

SQUEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!! Finally, after more than a year, The Lost World is published and for sale. I wish I had some chocolate to eat in celebration. :)

I want to thank Belle,  Selena, and Bea for their help in reading my book or parts of it for me. I also thank my mom for listening to me when I wanted to talk about it and helping me if I needed some questions answered and stuff. And I thank God for helping me through this. It was TOUGH at times. I got stuck and there were times when I didn't feel like writing, especially after a certain point. But it's done. And I'm glad.

I don't want to sound snooty or "You have to buy my book" or anything, but, The Lost World can be purchased here,  and hereThe first link is to Amazon, the second to the Create Space eStore. 

I wonder if we do have any chocolate lying around the house?



Monday, 21 July 2014

Week Four-- Only One More After This One!

Hello, my followers! Oi, don't I sound high and mighty? :D Let me try that again. Hello! Now I shall answer the questions for week four of Actually Finishing Something in July at Katie's blog.

How goes progress?

Pretty well, I hope! I have 11 stories and at least one Author's Note to go! That is... around a story and maybe a half or more a day. I don't like all the decimals the calculator on this computer is giving me. :P


Snippet-time! Share a snippet or two from your weekly writing.

Gladly! Like usual, this is from stuff I've been editing, not necessarily new stuff that I wrote this past week. They're all from West by Train.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she whispered.
*
She closed her eyes, building another layer to her shield against emotion.
*
Mrs. Bruin’s eyes softened and she took Miranda’s hand. “I’m sorry, lass. I didn’t mean to hurt you, But sometimes it is good to let out our feelings.”
Miranda wiped her nose with her sleeve. “I don’t think so. It can be too hurtful.” I have to put my shield back in place. I’ve let too much show.
*
“Do you want to talk about him?”
She shook her head. “No. I have to keep it all in. I have to be strong. I have to.”
Jonathan shook his head as well. “We’re all weak, Mira. Pulling back from showing emotion won’t make you stronger. You should let it all out. I did, and I feel better now. Shouldn't you do the same?”

Do you have a Pinterest inspiration board, or other
collection of images, that inspires your story? If so, share a couple of them with us.

I don't have a Pinterest board, but I have pictures for my characters. At least, for most of them, I think. So, here is how the speaking and at least slightly important characters in West by Train look like. I don't have a picture for my character called Thad, though. :P


This is Miranda, the main character.


Jonathan Grassel, the second most important character and perhaps my favorite. :)


Miranda's pa.



Mrs. Bruin. I imagine her a bit like this and a bit like this.



Charlie.



Peggy Grassel.

Now to go find some pictures that fit my story. I don't know if they will inspire me, and I'm just now looking for them but that's okay, right? :P


This is sort of Miranda, but I don't think I would say she is completely out of control. Just very, very hurt.


This is basically Miranda.


How would the main character of your story react if he or she were introduced to you?

Hmmm, I'm not sure. Miranda might be wary of me at first, until I showed whether I would be kind or not. I hope she would think I was kind! :)

Introduce us to one or two of the secondary characters in your story. 

Jonathan. He can be silly, fun and full of energy when he is happy. And even when he isn't, most of the time. Jonathan had horrible memories of the war, and wants so badly to forget. But unlike Miranda, who thinks she needs to shield all emotion form the world, he knows when he needs to let it all out. He doesn't want to hurt others with his pain, but he does let it go out and doesn't keep it all bottled up.

If your main character were allowed to choose a super-power, which power would he or she most desire? 

Miranda would choose the power to be invisible. Perhaps things she wouldn't get hurt as much if no one could see her. It would be easier to bear not being loved by the family who took her in.

We're nearing the end of this summer challenge! Is the completion of your goal in sight?

I hope so! Like I said above, I have 11 stories left, so I hope I can finish!