"You're Ellie?" 

I looked up at the young, solemn man standing before me. He had glasses, and he was squinting against the glare of the sun. The same thought kept repeating.

He's young. He has glasses. He's squinting. What color are his eyes? 

"Yes," I whispered at last. "I'm Ellie." Nothing more, nothing less. I realized right then and there that I hated the name Eleanor, and never wanted to be called such again. That's what Phillip had called me. The thought that he'd said my name sickened me to the point of nausea.

Light and darkness had struggled for dominion over Vúnyeðel, and darkness prevailed.  During all this time of his struggling, Vúnyeðel had not turned to Áronyeh for wisdom.  After his parents’ fall, he had set aside his orlôav in grief, taking it back up on occasion but usually leaving it on his bed.  It had become uncomfortable as his thoughts had turned gloomily to Arah’s destruction.  So far had his mind parted from it, that the thought of carrying it with him to talk to the tree had not even occurred to him.  And as he had left the stone, the stone left him and did not

Today, I became a swing dancer.  I love it.

Lexington, Massachusetts

June 20th, 1775

Dear Cousin,     

     As you well know, I am employed at a printing press, and I would like to relate to you what exactly we have been printing in lieu of our regular Lexington, Massachusetts news. For, our ink has taken form in our paper in a most ‘revolutionary’ way, and our language, you may say, has taken quite a ‘treason-like’ turn.     

Hello there, all my faithful readers! ;) I personally thank each and every one of you for taking the time to read my poems, stories, novels...and so on. Especially "It's Not That Simple" fans. How do you bear with me? That, I do not know.

This is my current list of things to update and that are in a severe need of updating. I may have to ask you to be a bit patient with me, but if you do, you will hopefully be satisfied! 

It's Not That Simple: 2-3 more chapters! 

Cup of Tea: 1 more "part".

just a day like any other

morning dawns gray, cold

feet pad across carpted floor

teeth brushed, hair combed

kettle whistles, pour the tea

curl up now with mug in hand

read a moment,

rest head on book

doorbell sounds, time to dash

into the frosted, chilly air

into car going down the road

work and play fill the air

one french course--done

next comes lunch and then 

off to work

in a busy rush, work slides by

then home again

to a warm bowl of soup

Okay, so I haven't had much time to work on my stories recently. Both of the chapters I am posting this week are pretty short as a result. Tell me what you think.  :)

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