Until he showed up at the ALIVE music festival this summer, I thought Kris Allen wrote only generic, sappy-but-clean girlfriend&breakup songs. I figured that any Christian with a strong witness probably wouldn’t have won American Idol.
I judge people on very little information, and yes, that’s a flaw, even if I justify it with James 4:4 and passages like it. In Kris Allen’s case, I have to make a lukewarm exception for “Live Like We’re Dying.”
Yeah, we gotta start
Looking at the hands of the time we've been given

Bright sunlight hit Autumn’s eyes, and she blinked twice, briefly, before opening them.

Quickly turning her back to the sunlight, she glanced at her digital clock, and her eyes widened.

“It’s past eight?!” she asked herself incredulously.

A knock sounded on her door and she jumped.

“Sweetie, you need to come down and get breakfast,” came her mother’s voice. “It’s one of your favorites: scrambled eggs and sautéed onions with buttered toast and peach tea as a beverage.”

The school year arrived two weeks later, and Autumn again took up her studies of history, math, handwriting, grammar, health, and Bible memorization. She looked forward to March, when the baby would be born, and helped her mother with many things around the house. She celebrated her fourteenth birthday in mid-September.

Off Stage

you almost were
and then you weren't.
before the lights went up,
you disappeared.
on Friday
a full house
the first night
of what could have been
many more.

we held our breath
and everyone's hearts pounded
when the stage
empty
naked
alone
appeared before us
with no one to usher us in
to that fantasy world of yours

you had no other,
no one could play your part

gone was the magic,
the echo of the heart

One glance into Uther’s eyes,dark as the grave, told me all I needed to know about the man. He was ruthless, unyielding, no different than any other king.
This man looked with distain on me, on me, when he was the one, who had as good as murdered my father. For a moment I remembered how my father’s golden laugh, and how his blue eyes had sparkled.
I brought my gaze to the hard man that stood before me, and shuddered in rage.

 Hello, everyone! I'm back, with a short story set in my fantasy world, in the country of Relastin. I hope ya'll like it, but please feel free to criticize it (constructively, of course!). And forgive the bad poetry, as I'm not much of a poet, but felt as though I had to include those verses in it. Oh, and Amira is pronounced (Uh-my-ruh).

AMIRA

I stood quietly by the bedside, now and then dipping a cloth in a basin of water and placing it on Orren's forehead. He tossed feverishly and muttered something which sounded like,

Mouse walked through the woods.

The top of the woods.

It was Friday; Fish night.

Mouse always loved fish night.

As Mouse was crossing the rope bridge between the Bitereas tree and the Molvernesh tree, he looked down in the water.

Fish. Big fish.

The grylphis jumped from the bridge and flew at the fish.

He missed.

The fish turned and swam downstream.

Mouse swam after it.

Coming to a pool, Mouse looked for the fish.

He saw a tail in the weeds.

Bingo.

"Hey!" yelled the Mermaiden.