I wrote this for Veritas Press's Christmas writing contest... I didn't win, but that's ok. I just hope that my email didn't do the strange thing it's been doing lately and make my emails get lost in cyberspace.

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Dear God,

We haven't spoken since July. I have only spoken to you. Something is wrong with me. I used to be able to talk to you and know with my heart that you heard me. now, I talk and I feel as if I were talking to myself. I still know that you hear. But I know it the way I know that you know my every thought.

Notebook flipped open to an empty page

Pencil in hand, eraser in range

A mess of ideas desperately waiting to be written

But yet I think to myself, "Where is my inspiration?!"

Empty, like a useless vessel, I feel

If I was really blessed with such an incredible gift

Why am I not pouring it out to the world?

Oh what a God-given gift I have blessed with!

The gift to design a world of my own

The gift to sing without a voice

The gift to fly on the wings of the wind

Now that NaNoWriMo is over I can continue, sorry for the delay. :)-Kay

Chapter 7

I stand in the midst of a thousand hands,
Each one writes a thought, drafts a poem grand,
That mournfully drifts over desert sands,
Or tells of the kings in a distant land.

Now some hands are picked for a noble cause,
To write on the gates for all eyes to see.
Now my hand is picked; for with Ben’s applause
My essays and poems with his sense agree.

The Writing at Apricotpie begins!
Hear now our thoughts; here are our pens.

Now stand twenty-eight of our working hands,

Note: this is a new story that I'm working on, and I hope that by posting it here, I will a) get some feedback, and b) have some incentive to keep working on it instead of stuffing into some obscure file on my desktop somewhere. LOL.

Anyway, you get a two-chapter deal out of it, so I hope you enjoy. Oh, and any decent working title suggestions would be nice too. :)