From "The Cost of Freedom"

Jacob:

Of medium height. Rather thin and wiry build. Short blonde hair. Blue-gray eyes. Small nose, kinda turned up at the end. Normal-lookin' mouth. Scar on right shoulder. Good with a sword. Afraid of death. *Ahem* Terrified of death. Hates slavery and innocent people getting hurt. Loves Estelle.

Estelle:

Petite. Long dark hair. Starry green eyes. Small, pointed nose. Full lips. Wonderful ability with herbs and medicines. Ace with bow and arrows. Feels like Jacob is as close to her as a brother.

 Dear Crazy Girl




Chapter 1


I guess this story starts. On a Friday, at breakfast when my father , Jim “FedEx“… ok I know what your thinking “ FedEx ? like the mail deliverers ?” , yes . The very FedEx family . I am a descendant of a very rich and popular ancestry . My family are millionaire’s, but the only thing about my family is – We’re kind of mean. You see, my father and his father before him have this tradition of taking other peoples addresses and prank message them. Yes I did this, I know! The protagonist is a big snot.

A dull decript desperation
A lack of every inspiration
That it's energies would lend
To my languid wandering pen
That some wonders yet untold
Would upon this page unfold
To hearten those without a prayer
Alas! Tis me that's standing there-
In this tepid inconsistancy
That ever bores and frustrates me.

The following is my rambling and (I'm afraid to say) quite repetitive reemergence as a writer on AP after a long break. Hopefully, I'll be able to turn out a few more essays over the summer.

 I used to love to read

It went hand in hand with to write

I used to love to lose sleep

Reading books all through the night

But now I don’t read as much

Even though I should

I love the stories I encounter

I find them really good

I find myself hesitating

To read something written well

Because every time I read something masterful

A bit of jealousy in me swells

Shannon Hale invents names with ease

Meg Whalen Turner holds you prisoner

Why are we creative? Why do we seek to write, sing, and paint? How can we make something from nothing?

Sometimes I think about the world in my stories and wonder who and what I would be if I could enter that world and live there with all my characters. What would my life be like there? Would I be a Selkie, living in the sea and visiting human lands in search of new adventures? Would I be an Elenali, flying amid the tall trees and weaving clever enchantments? Maybe I would be a human, living in the mountains or the forest, or maybe even the lost Isle of Tânynis.

Pen touches paper

And from it words flow

Describing what they can

Explaining what they know

Words, thoughts and feelings

Nature's wondrous magnifique

Histories and fantasies

From the proud to the meek

Anyone can benefit from a simple, superb

Humble, unnoticed mark when

Pen touches paper