Random stuff (again... *sigh* )

At the request of someone who refuses to be ignored, here is a selection from a homework assignment I had to do for Language Arts. Basically what I had to do was take any characters from To Kill A Mockingbird, our current reading materials, stick them in any sort of setting, and write a narrative around them. It was supposed to be 2 pages, double-spaced. Unfortunately, I was not notified. :P So here it goes.
All characters mentioned belong to Harper Lee~


-----------------------------------------To Kill A Mockingbird: A Tale Retold

“I hear Maitre Moineau’s girl has been up to no good again.”

“Oh my! What in the world has that girl done now?”

“The child was seen running across the lawn, barefoot, petticoats flapping and all!”

“How unladylike! What does that man teach his children?”

Maitre Atticus Moineau de Livre sighed as he passed the group of gossiping ladies, bowing briefly before the group as they scrutinized him from behind embroidered fans. His boots clicked crisply against the throne room’s shining, marble floor as he headed to the throne itself. Upon arriving (which took quite some time, as the distance from the doors to the throne was large), Atticus bowed deeply before the king. “Greetings your majesty. I have answered your summons.” The King Radley looked down at the lord from his high perch, and merely gave a hoarse cough. Atticus looked down in respect, as no member of court dared to speak beyond custom if uninvited. Finally, the king spoke, in his slow, gravely (and rather dull) voice. “How go your duties, Moineau? I trust the archives are safe in your keeping?” “Of course, your majesty.” Atticus replied smoothly, “I would not fail any duty entrusted to me by your highness.” The king continued to stare unnervingly at Lord Atticus, but the lord remained unfazed. “Your children have been a bit… lively as of late, no?” the king said slowly. Atticus’ smiling face darkened. “My deepest apologies, your majesty. But they are still children, and I humbly ask you to pardon them for their impudence. I will be a better parent in the future.” The king looked at the lord disapprovingly for a few moments more, but lazily waved him away without another word. Atticus took his cue to leave gratefully, and swiftly backed away from the throne, then made his way to the doors, his coattails fluttering behind him. “Those two little imps.” Atticus mumbled to himself, but he could not help but smile. The two were so much like their mother.

Atticus arrived at his villa on the palace grounds, only to discover that his children were at it again, romping all over the garden.

“That wasn’t fair, Jem! The point was clearly mine!”

“The slow will always lose, Scout. If you want to win, be quicker!”

Lady Jean Louise Moineau, also known as Scout, flushed with anger. “This is a stupid game, Jem! You’ve cheated me!” Her brother laughed. “You’re just a sore loser, Scout.” The girl huffed away angrily, but as soon as she spotted her father, Scout’s face brightened up in a flash. “Atticus! You’re back from the Doom Room!” she cried happily. Atticus laughed aloud when he heard the throne room’s new name. “Indeed I am.” He said affectionately, as he carefully picked up the flurry of petticoats, frocks, and chestnut hair. “I trust that you are not bullying your little sister, Jem?” Atticus asked in mock seriousness. “No, sir. Never, sir.” Jem replied, grinning. Placing Scout back down on the grass, Atticus leaned down and faced the two children, putting on what the two children knew as “the uh-oh face”. “Now, do you two know why I was called to the throne room?” he asked, noting that Scout had suddenly focused her attention on a pink flower that was sprouting nearby. “It’s the Doom Room. And no sir.” Jem promptly replied, correcting his father. “Scout? How about you?” the father continued. The little girl kicked at the ground bashfully. “I was only having a bit of fun… You know how I do hate shoes and buckles…” she mumbled. Atticus patted her on the head. “Running around is alright as long as you don’t go anywhere near the Royal villa, is it clear?” Scout smiled up at her father, a gap between her teeth showing; a battle scar from an unfortunate situation of running a bit too fast on the cobblestone path. “I don’t want anymore of those clucking ladies at court talking about me, hm? Off with you now. I have some work to do, so I’ll be at the Archives if you need me.” Atticus said over his shoulder as he set to the palace path again. “Yes, sir!” the two children said in unison, saluting their father smartly. The lord chuckled and began to hum as he made his way to the Royal Archives.

Scout’s smile faded as she watched her father’s back grow smaller and smaller. “Atticus has been awful busy lately, hasn’t he Jem?” Her brother nodded gravely, but soon brightened. “Don’t be so gloomy, Scout. We have the rest of the day to play, since Miss Dub is sick!” he said cheerfully. The boy started off in a sprint, towards the edge of the palace grounds. “Wait! Jem! That’s the way to the wall!” Scout cried, gripping her skirts and running after him. Her brother laughed aloud in response.

By the time they had neared the wall, Scout had already taken off her shoes and stockings, abandoning them at the little willow tree that was the siblings’ hiding spot. The wall stretched, almost endlessly, to both sides of the two. It was taller than three fully grown men, and judging from the looks of it, at least 3 feet thick. Scout looked nervously at her surroundings. “Jem, we’re not supposed to be here. Approaching the wall is forbidden.” Jem faced her. “What, are you scared now? Scaredy-cat.” He taunted. “I am not scared. I’m just…” but the girl’s voice trailed away as her mouth hung open in surprise. Jem turned to the direction she was staring, and was equally stunned. There, on the floor, lay a child. An extremely dirty child, who couldn’t have been much older than Scout. “He’s even dirtier than me on my worst days…” Jem whispered in awe. Scout warily approached what seemed to be a living pile of dirt and dust. She gently poked the thing with a stick, and jumped away. “The thing made a sound, Jem!” she hissed at her brother. “I’m not a thing, you pansies. Dun you know a kid when you see one?” the thing said, getting up, and rubbing his head, which fluffed a cloud of dirt into the air. Scout sneezed. “Who are you? Where do you come from? Why do you trespass on royal grounds?” Jem asked suspiciously. “Woah there, brother. Dun go askin questions outta nowheres, kay?” the thing grumbled. “I’m Dill of Lower Finchley, and I’m here on a bet.” “A bet?” Scout questioned. Dill grinned. “Yeah, a bet. Mighty fine one too. Those oth’ street kids, they said I couldin get up here, to the Palace. But boy did I prove them wrong.” He said happily. “Where is this Lower Finchley? I have never heard of it.” Jem asked, no longer suspicious, but merely provoked by his curiosity. “Wha?! You’ve never heard o’ Finchley?” Dill exclaimed, “Finchley is the whole darn city surrounding this sparklin’ place, and you never heard o’ it?” Jem’s eyebrows knotted together in puzzlement. “We’ve never been beyond the wall, much less seen what lies outside.” Scout informed the new boy. Dill gaped at both of them. “Well, you’re gonna know now, eh? What’re your names?” “I’m Scout, and this is Jem.” The girl replied. Jem’s look of puzzlement and worry grew as he followed the other two children, who were chattering away cheerfully. After a while, the little troupe came up to a piece of the wall that covered in vines. Jem looked up at the wall. “I never knew that there was vine growing here.” Dill scratched his head. “Doesn’t seem like your people here din’ care for it much. But it’s good for us, so yeah.” Dill nimbly climbed the ropes of vines, and the other two children grimly followed. Jem reached the top second, and stared at his surroundings, stunned. “Jem! What’s up there!” Scout called, climbing the last stretch of vines, her hands beginning to sting. Her brother ignored her. “You’re almost there, Scout!” Dill called down at her. Panting, Scout swung herself onto the top of the wall, and looked out. She gasped, and nearly lost her balance. Before her lay an expanse of grey rooftops, all crammed together in a mess of dirt, fumes, and sound. They were high above the city, and the girl could only imagine what could be going on below them. It was frightening. “I give you Finchley, the city of death, rot, and rubbish.” Dill said sourly, “This is what your king is doing for his people.”

Jem and Scout sat on the wall, watching the sun set, something that they marveled at. But, the two could not shake off their shock and horror when they had seen the city. Dill had long gone, as he said his mum would be after him if he stayed out for too long. “Why didn’t we know about this? Why has something so big been hidden from us?” Jem whispered with dismay. “Miss Dum always said that the kingdom was flourishing, and full of happy people. This can hardly be called flourish and happy, can it?” Scout nodded, as confused as her elder brother. “Do you think anyone else knows about the city?” she asked, looking up at her brother. He shook his head. “I don’t think so. I mean, why would they not say something if they knew about something so horrible.” It was starting to get dark. “Come on, Scout. Calpurnia’s going to be wondering where we are soon.”

Sure enough, Calpurnia, the Moineau household nurse, was waiting for the two children with her hands on her hips and a stern expression adorning her dark face. “Where have you two young’uns been? Worrying your dear old nurse to death!” she scolded as she looked the two children up and down, “Look what you’ve done to your clothes. If your father was here he’d give you a good scolding about wasting good material!” But nonetheless, the nurse ushered Scout and Jem into the house, and sent them upstairs for a bath. Over supper, the siblings were oddly silent as they pondered over the day’s events. Calpurnia eyed the children suspiciously. “What happened to you two? Usually you’re chattering and won’t stop.” Scout looked up from her plate of food. “Calpurnia, are there other people like you?” she asked. Calpurnia looked at the girl quizzically. “Well, I know there are other people who run errands and things like that at the palace, but are there more people other than here, who have skin like yours?” The nurse’s eyes widened in surprise. Jem also looked up from his food, waiting for Calpurnia’s answer. The nurse sighed. “I don’t know why you’re asking, but yes, there are people like me outside of the palace. There are people even with skin and hair like yours who live outside of here.” She said slowly, as if uncertain of the rightness in her words. “But that isn’t stuff you need to worry about. Off to bed, the both of you.” Scout and Jem both began to protest, but were immediately silenced by their nurse’s glare. They pouted their way upstairs to their respective bedrooms. When Calpurnia had tucked them both away, after making sure they brushed their teeth, she sat in her rocking chair that was next to the kitchen hearth. She gazed into the flame that blazed brightly in the hearth, and her eyes took on a faraway look. “It has been a long time. Such a long time since I last stepped foot in the outer world…”

The next morning, Scout and Jem ran around the house gleefully, their waking greeted by the glorious news that their tutor was still ill. “You won’t be smiling for too long after you hear this. Your aunt, Lady Alexandra, has decided to call on both of you for a visit.” Calpurnia announced. Scout and Jem froze, miserable expressions sliding onto their faces. “No…! Don’t let that witch come.” Scout moaned, clutching piteously at Calpurnia’s skirts. Jem was too preoccupied with acting overly shocked; his face looked like he had just come across a monster. Calpurnia watched indifferently, already used to their antics. “I have no say on what goes with that lady. Atticus already went to the Archives for work, so you have no choice either.” She said coolly, “Now get dressed. You know how your aunt hates a mess.”

Scout and Jem sat miserably on the embroidered sofa in the parlor. Scout was picking at the irritating collar on the dress her aunt had previously given her, and Jem practicing the best way to ignore their cousin, who was bound to come along, Francis. Soon enough, the dreaded door bell chimed, and Calpurnia glided over to greet the lady. “Dame Moineau. Master Francis” she murmured respectfully as the guests strutted in. The lady looked at Calpurnia with disgust. “Atticus still keeps a slave like you here?” she clucked. Calpurnia’s fingers clenched into fists, but she said nothing, and closed the door behind the woman and her son. Francis looked dully about his surroundings, nose held high in the air. “Come, Francis dear. Greet your cousins.” Alexandria cooed. The younger boy mumbled something unintelligible, and his mother glowed with pride. “Look how polite my Francis is! It is a shame there are two rude children as you two in the Moineau line.” Alexandra chided, looking distastefully at Scout and Jem, who were pointedly ignoring their guests. The woman made an exasperated sound, and glared at the two siblings. “Come and greet your aunt.” She commanded. As if thinking the same thing, Scout and Jem turned their faces to her, and waved their tongue at their esteemed aunt. She gave a sharp intake of breath. “You two are just like your mother. Truly spawn of such vermin!” With that, the Dame Moineau stomped out of the house. “Well that was easier than I thought it would be.” Jem whispered to Scout through the corner of his mouth, and his sister giggled. But, little Francis stopped before following his mother out the door. “See? I told you your pirate wench of a mother was no good.” He sneered. Suddenly, two angry blurs tackled the child. “You say that again and I’ll feed you to the palace dogs, I swear!” Jem growled, his arms pinning down the smaller boy. Henry began to panic. “Please! Don’t hurt me!” he pleaded, “I’ll tell you something good if you let me go!” Scout’s curiosity sparked. “Spit it out, Henry. Or else.” The little boy gulped. “I heard my mum and dad talking about something. They said it was the king’s son, but not Prince Donoham. They said there was a second son. The King locked him away because he had no wits or something, and was insane. They have kept him secret for 15 years or something. Rumors are flying around that he walks the western palace lawns at night.” He babbled. Jem let go of Francis, clearly surprised by this information, and the boy took this chance to run away.

“A second son? And at that, an insane one!” Scout said with wonder. She and Jem were making their way back to the vined part of the wall, to meet Dill again. “Strange. It seems like there a lot of things we don’t know, eh Scout?” Jem commented thoughtfully. The vined wall came into view, and they spotted a waving Dill perched on its top. The city boy leapt lightly onto the grassy ground when Scout and Jem finally arrived. Scout told him everything they had found at that morning, and Dill listened with great interest. “I think I know what we can do today.” Dill said, his eyes glimmering with excitement. “An adventure is what you two pampered pansies need.” Jem’s ears perked up when he heard this. “An adventure? Like in those silly books we have to read with Miss. Dun.” Dill nodded and grinned his all-to familiar grin. “Let’s go on a quest. A quest to find this second prince.”

Scout and Jem led Dill to their secret willow to gather a few supplies from their collection of trinkets; a candlestick, a small hunk of flint, some paper and charcoal to make a map, a slingshot an stones to distract any enemies they may come across, and an almost broken compass. Scout spotted the stockings and shoes she had tossed aside the previous day. “Jem, come look. This is a bit strange.” She called. The two boys came around. “What, Scout, their just a pair of shoes and stockings.” Jem replied nonchalantly. “No Jem, look. Remember? These are mine, and I just threw them here the other day. But, they’re all folded and neat now.” Indeed, the stockings had been carefully folded and placed on Scout’s shoes, which were nearly set on the ground. Jem scratched his head confusedly. But on the other hand, Dill grinned. “It seems like someone’s been here already. Mayhaps it be the second prince we’re lookin for? This is part of the western laws, right?” Scout shuddered. The very notion of this insane prince being so near was a bit frightening. “Perhaps.” Jem said, “But we have a quest to complete.” So, the threesome left the willow tree and the mysterious shoes, and headed towards the center.

“Thank goodness it’s Fridy, as everyone is paying their attentions to the court.” Jem whispered. The children had managed to creep around and arrived at the central villa. They had agreed that the second prince was most likely going to be somewhere around here; a prince was still a prince. “Maybe there’s some sort of underground chamber in the king’s villa or something!” Scout whispered with excitement. “Shush. Here they come!” Dill warned, and the children pressed themselves against the wall they were huddled next to. As the beat of the palace guards’ march faded, they sprinted across the main lawn, past the legendary fountain of mermaid tears, and into the villa. Once inside, they crept past the throne room. Scout felt herself sweating, feeling like someone would fling open a door somewhere, and their plan would be ruined in a flash. “Where to? Have you got any idea where the king might hide a person?” Dill whispered anxiously. “The cellars.” Jem immediately muttered back. “Well, lead on, milord, lead on.” The other boy whispered. Soon, after much weaving, hiding, and skittering, the children found themselves in the cellar, surrounded by barrels of ale and wine used for feasts and special occasions. They had managed to get past the cooks and were now gazing at their surroundings. There were rows and rows and rows of kegs, barrels, and hogsheads in the cellar. “So this is where all of the wine went during the Seizure…” Dill marveled, no longer needing to whisper. “The Seizure?” Scout asked. “When the old king sent soldiers down to loot the cities and villages. With all that treasure, he built this grand palace you two live in.” he replied bitterly. Scout looked down. “It’s not our fault that the kingdom is like this. We were born here, and we’ve never been anywhere else.” Jem retorted protectively. Dill frowned. “I suppose you’re right. But, lets search for a cell, or maybe a trap door of some sort. We’re not here to be fightin’” the boy agreed.

So, the three split up, each child scouring the walls and floors for any sign of a hidden contraption. After quite a while, Scout felt like she had searched every nook and cranny of her section, and was now sweaty and dusty from all of the work. The air seemed to be growing mustier and mustier. Let’s take a quick break. The boys won’t mind. She thought to herself. Spotting a large barrel, the girl moved to lean against it for a small respite. But as soon as her weight shifter against the barrel, it moved backwards, and rolled onto the floor with a loud rumble. “Scout! Are you alright?” she heard Jem shout. But, Scout was too distracted by what she had found to pay any attention. “Jem! Dill! I think I found it! The trapdoor!” The two boys pounded over and reached to where Scout was now squatting, tugging at an iron ring that was screwed to the floor on where the barrel and it’s stand had formerly stood. “So the barrel was empty.” Jem noted, “Clever”. Scout continued to tug at the ring with no avail. “Move over Scout. I think I know how to do this.” Scout obeyed, and Dill took the ring in his hands. Blowing away some of the dust that had collected over the door, he revealed a series of grooves that were carved into the floor. “See, if you just move the ring along the grooves… And there!” Dill cried triumphantly. The door had opened with surprising ease, and revealed a dark opening with a staircase leading down into the shadow. Jem lit the candle, and they descended into the darkness, feeling more than a little afraid. It wasn’t like they had imagined; wet, swampy, and cold. It was relatively dry and comfortably warm, but nonetheless frightening. The stairs did not extend too far downward, so the children soon came in contact with solid ground. They found themselves in a stone hallway. There were signs of people walking through the hall recently, and Scout clutched Jem and Dill’s hands. “No need to fear, Jem is here.” Her brother reassured her. “Hey, that rhymed!” Dill said cheerfully, in a rather bad attempt to make her laugh. But, Scout forced on a smile, and through the hallway the threesome continued.

The hallway did not extend that far, like the stairs. They faced a solid door of oak. It was slightly ajar, and light trickled from inside the room, and there was a quiet voice coming from inside. Scout had not let go of her companion’s hands. “Hey, Scout, you’re gonna cut of me blood flow if you keep grippin’ me hand like that.” Dill whispered. “Does your grammar get worse when you’re nervous, Dill?” Jem whispered nervously. “Hush up, Jem.” Dill scowled, and opened the door in front of them without waiting to see if the other two wanted to discover the room’s inhabitants at all.

Scout’s gasped. An elderly woman sat in front of a little fireplace, knitting what seemed to be an endless scarf. “Miss Maudie!” the girl gasped. The old lady was the palace gardener, a close friend of Atticus ever since she was born. “Scout! Jem! What in the devil’s name are you two doing here? And who is that other child?” Miss Maudie asked in surprise, swiftly setting aside her handiwork. Something shuffled in the corner of the room, and gave a low moan. “Now don’t worry Arthur. These children won’t hurt you… Come now… Say hello.” The old lady crooned, turning her attention away from the children towards the thing in the corner. “I think we’ve found ourselves the second prince.” Dill said slowly. Miss Maudie motioned the children to come and sit by the fire, where the prince, who was wrapped in a large bedsheet that covered his entire body and face. The children sat well apart from the suspected prince, shooting a few curious glances at him, but too afraid to openly stare at him. “This is Arthur. I usually come down here to take care of him.” “He’s the king’s second son! The insane one, right?” Scout blurted out without thinking. Miss Maudie looked surprised. “Well, it looks like you three are well informed. Yes, this is Prince Arthur Radley. Insane? No. Just a poor, pitiable child…” she said sadly, stroking the prince’s head. The prince placed his head on her lap, like a child and his mother. “Arthur was born a blue infant. He lived with much doctoring, but the midwife, driven by superstition, warned their majesties that this child would be cursed.” Miss Maudie began, “So, the child’s parents, out of fear, locked him away in this cellar, and entrusted him to me. He was never to see the light of day, they told me. And so I obeyed. And deep within Arthur’s heart, his sorrow grew.” Scout suddenly felt herself feeling incredibly sorry for the prince, and reached out her hand to the pile of cloth that was huddled next to Miss Maudie. A pair of pure blue eyes, such sad eyes, turned to observe Scout. She did not flinch. Blue eyes met hazel. A pale, thin hand reached out to grasp her own smaller one. Scout smiled. “Hello Arthur. My name is Jean Louise Moineau. But you can call me Scout. Would you like to be friends?”

-To be continued-

---------------------------

Further Notes:
I had intended the whole little story thing to end quite a bit farther than from where it ended, but it was bedtime and I could keep my eyes open.
It's a bit muddled and unclear, since I didn't edit or proofread at all, and I wrote it entirely in one sitting. (gasp!) But that's just me making excuses.
Gah. It's about time for me to turn into a pumpkin. Goodnight to all~

Taking a Break

Just taking a break off from the story I was currently posting. School has been going smoothly, grades are being kind to me, and over all I'm relatively stress-free.
Here's a random little story that I had great fun writing. I never really proofread it, so bear with me here. :)
Comments are always appreciated.
-------------------------------------------------Franken and Kit

Kit stared angrily at the stuffed bear that was slouched lazily on the edge of her bed.

“I asked you to clean up my room for me while I was at school, Franken!”

The bear shrugged and fiddled with the red ribbon tied around his neck. “Who said I was gonna?” Kit gave the teddy a look of frustration, her chubby cheeks flushed with anger. “I gave you my last cookie for that! Now mummy’s mad at me!” With a last furious glare and a shake of her chestnut curls, Kit, turned and set down to the task of picking up her belongings off the floor of her bedroom. Franken watched with amusement as she crawled across the floor, throwing various miscellaneous objects in the direction of her closet, many falling very short of their target.

“Stupid bear. You call yourself my friend…” Kit grumbled. Franken merely grinned in his fuzzy, sometimes aggravating way. “Quit mumbling. I can hear you.” The bear rolled over on his side. “So, how was school today?” Kit let her angry silence hang in the are for several moments, but couldn’t help but start to talk. Franken somehow always made her want to talk. It was like magic. Chatting with him left her heart a little bit lighter too, when she was done. “Kevin, that meanie! He wouldn’t let me borrow his blue marker! Kelly didn’t have one either, so I had to ask Kevin! So, I got mad, cause I tried really hard to ask him nicely like Miss Birch asked me to last time.” Kit ranted, repositioning herself and sitting solemnly on the floor. She ran her hands over the rough layer of carpet that lined her bedroom floor. It wasn’t a pleasant color; grey spotted with specks of blue everywhere. Franken chuckled. “You and your classmates.” Kit ignored this comment. “I fell on the blacktop today. Kevin tripped me. Got a plain old regular band-aid.” She commented absent-mindedly, rolling up her jeans to show Franken the battle-wound on her knee. “I was hoping for a pretty one…” Kit flopped onto her back and closed her eyes. “Franken, I’m so tired…” Franken stared at the girl, his brown marble eyes looking worried. “Kit, you have homework to do…” he gently reminded her. The girl lazily waved her hand at the bear. “I know, I know… Just let me take a nap…”

The stuffed bear continued to stare at Kit. Her energy had flickered out so quickly.

Kit awoke to the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. Her room was dark in the night. She was eleven years old now. Time had passed. She had fallen asleep on the floor, exactly as she had done five years ago. Franken didn’t talk to her anymore. Withdrawn into a hard shell, and lost into the deep ocean. Her hair was longer now, curls unmanageable. Kit sat cross-legged and turned toward her bedroom door, which was tightly shut. She stared dully, and the war began. She closed her eyes. Shouting ensued on the floor below her. She never knew what it was they were always fighting about. She didn’t want to know. It was expected, but Kit still felt the fear building up inside her chest. She quickly changed into her pajamas, and slipped into bed, pulling the covers over her head, not bothering to brush her teeth. She would do that in the morning. Kit felt the soft felt lining of her bed sheet. She slowly put her hands over her ears, and peeked out of the safety of her bed. Franken was on a shelf, where he had remained for the past three years. Kit looked at him, looking for some kind of sign of life. Something might have flickered in his eyes, but it was lost as soon as it came. A stream of loneliness made its way to join the pool of fear that had already gathered in the center of Kit’s life.

Highschool. The nest of drama. The field in which scandal and gossip springs up, and leaves the soil overrun with weeds. Kit just happened to go to one such school, which just happened to be swarming with rumors and betrayals. She had tried to hard to shy away from this. The painful result of betrayals and jealousy. Her circle of friends had gotten wider, but also more spread out. A group of girls had taken Kelly away from her. Kit had grown prettier. Her hair fell across her shoulders, loosely tied back to keep her curls from getting in the way. She was slender, and reasonably tall. Boys had come to her. But she lacked something. The ability to dare, to do more than just hold hands. Her eyes lacked the fierceness of her past self. They seldom looked at someone directly.

Kit swung her backpack over her shoulder and trudged toward the door. Kelly and her friends walked out of a classroom. Kit slowed her pace to a stop, and watched as her former best friend giggled at some inaudible joke that was whispered between the group’s members, and tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder. Kit bit her lip and resisted the urge to call out to her. “Kiiiiiiit!” A voice called from behind her. Kelly’s eyes glanced in Kit’s direction, and the two girl’s eyes met. Kit’s eyes a sad question that would never be asked, Kelly’s a vision of cold ice. Kit’s gaze flickered away, determined to not face the hard expression in Kelly’s eyes. She hesitated, then turned around to meet the face of the girl who had called out to her. She vaguely listened as Kelly’s chattering group moved farther and farther away. “What’s up Sarah?” Kit asked casually, registering the blue-eyed, freckled face that was in front of her. “Wanna come over today? I got a new CD that I think you’ll really like.” Sarah said excitedly. Kit smiled faintly back at the girl. “Sure.” She replied. Off they went, and Kit pushed the exit door open, to be bathed in the afternoon’s sunlight.

Kit stood on the front steps of her house, and waved at Sarah, who was sitting in the front seat of her Dad’s car. “Thanks for giving me a ride back, Mr. McKenzie!” She shouted across the lawn. Mr. McKenzie smiled, and started pulling out away from the curb. “Any time, Kit.” He called back. Kit’s smile faded as she watched the small, navy blue car disappear, and turn around the corner. She turned with a flourish to face the front door of her house, and clipped her heels together. Kit closed her eyes, gripped the door handle, and tugged on the door. She disapprovingly noted that it was unlocked. She stepped inside, and took of her shoes. But, her nose was gradually met with the smell of vomit and alcohol. Kit sighed, and stood for a moment, where she was sitting. Dad had left to play with women half a year ago. Mom tried her hardest to focus all her attention on raising Kit, but on her worst days, she drowned herself in alcohol, and slept. That’s what usually got her fired; skipping work from hangovers. She entered the kitchen and the smell hit her at full blast, making her nose crinkle. She nearly tripped over a bottle that had managed to escape from the table. She gathered the bottles that were scattered around the first floor. She sighed in relief. Mum had managed to use the trashcan to throw up in instead of the floor. After she finally finished cleaning up and taking out the trash, she made her way upstairs. Kit walked past her mother’s closed bedroom door, not bothering to check on her; she was bound to be sprawling across the bed, with a glass of water and a bottle of headache-relief pills close at hand.

Kit tossed her backpack in an empty corner, and sunk to the floor. She brought her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around them, and rocked back and forth, with her face pressed against her jeans. After a few moments, she got up, stretched, and made her way to the small desk that sat in the corner. Only a few necessities were neatly arranged in a plastic cup on the side. Kit’s room was what you would call spotless. A small dresser was tucked in the opposite side of the room. Other than that, a reasonably sized bed and a bedside table adorned the room. No posters, no bookshelf, no stuffed animals. No one had to tell her to clean up her room anymore.

The sun was beginning to set when Kit flicked on her table lamp and started on her homework. The only sound that could be head was the constant scribble and the occasional clicking of a mechanical pencil. Kit’s hair splayed across the wood of her desk as she hunched over her work, her concentration more intensity than one would find from a sixteen year old. Suddenly, she snapped upright, put her pencil back in its place, and put everything back, textbooks and all, neatly into her backpack. A sandwich or a salad and a glass of water for dinner, a quick shower, and then off to sleep. That was her routine. But, while she was pulling a shirt over head, she passed her closet. Kit paused to take a look herself. Those pale, dark rings were still there, rimming her eyes. Kit frowned at her reflection; she had been getting a lot of sleep lately, she had made sure of it. She rubbed her eyes with little effort, as her mind wandered to other thoughts. Thoughts of what had happened during the day, vague worries of the test that she would have in Physics the next morning. Kelly’s stone cold gaze, the gaze of a stranger that pierced Kit’s heart. Kit felt the painful knot in her throat start to develop. It may have been an impulse, she would never know. But, she slid open the closet, watching her mirrored twin slide past, out of sight. There, on a shelf next to a few old sweaters Kit never used, was a brown, fuzzy teddy bear. A memory that had suddenly come back into existence. She placed her hands around the bear, and gently lifted it, as if it would fall apart in her hands. The bear’s soft fur had remained unchanged, and the little red ribbon still hung around his neck. Kit gazed into his hazel eyes, the eyes that her father had once said was the exact color of her own. They remained unmoving, and unemotional. Nevertheless, Kit drew the bear into a tight embrace. “Franken…” she whispered, and let the pool overflow, out into reality. She felt tears stream down her face, and sadness grew even more. Kit sunk to the floor, still hugging the bear. “Don’t leave me alone…” she cried into his fur.

“Mum, she’s breaking down. Getting worse. Dad left since you last saw him too.”

“Kelly, she’s not my friend anymore, you know? She doesn’t even look at me…”

“I don’t know anymore… Nothing seems real… It’s all crashing down on me, like I’m in the ocean, and I know how to swim… but I can’t. I just…”

All of this was met with still silence. Kit continued.

“Franken, I need you here with me, like back then.”

“Please. I’m not mad at you anymore.”

“I promise I won’t forget you anymore…”

“please…”

Kit’s voice grew softer, and finally she stopped talking altogether. Her tears had ebbed a bit, but they still dripped downwards, making a rather large, damp spot on Franken’s fur. Sat there, motionless, unwilling to let go of the bear.

“You and you classmates, silly Kit.” A soft voice answered.

Kit’s eyes widened. She released Franken from her tight embrace and stared into his eyes, willing him to let her hear his voice again. His embroidered mouth did not move. But, his eyes were filled with a tiny glimmer that had not been there before. Their gazes locked, and Kit smiled softly. Reassurance, support. That was all she had needed.

Franken never spoke again, but there was still that twinkle in his eyes.

So, he traveled with Kit.

With her to college, with his own special spot on her new desk.

Next to her computer at her first internship.

Back and forth with her on the subway after she had gotten her first apartment.

Sometimes to visit her mother, who had gotten off drinking, and was steadily getting happier.

Meeting Kelly again for the first time in years.

At her marriage with her childhood enemy, Kevin, which came as a shock.

With her to his final resting place, at a cozy home, where Kit and Kevin raised their first daughter, who they named Hope.

And into the small arms of Hope, where she would cuddle and talk with him for all of her childhood years.

In Which my Holiday has Started Off Gloomily and the Second Part is Posted

Hey whoever's reading my blog. Feeling a bit discouraged right now, and a bit lazy since Christmas Break just started... But, I've got work to do.
So, anyways... What do ya guys think about this? This is my first short story, but is moving towards fantasy right off the bat going in the right direction for a new writer? Thoughts? (Ahhh... the pessimistic thoughts are pouring in right now...)
---------------------------------------------The Fisher of Dreams (continued)

Under the surface of the water, small lights began to illuminate. They were of all colors and sizes, their shine varying amongst many. Slowly they began to swirl, making patterns and floating lazily. Net looked over the edge of her boat and took a long look. The lights were faint from her view, but she could still distinguish the many colors. There was going to be a pretty good haul today; there was a very diverse selection of shining orbs, which meant dreams of all sorts. Net smiled a little, but it did not reach her eyes. From a square, glass-like case, the girl drew a small silver bell. It was a thing of power; runes flowed gracefully across its smooth curves. She cupped the bell’s sides so it would not make any noise. A slight touch of metal to metal could cause chaos. Net traced several symbols with her finger on the face of the bell. The runes illuminated and faded as she traced. In less than a minute she was done. Breathing out one last breath, Net raised the bell over the surface of the water and rang it once. Its pure clear note echoed through the swamp and faded. Net waited, and the chime came echoing back, this time its pitch was soft and alluring. Ripples cast themselves outward, as if trying to escape the boat. When the rippling stopped, Net was surrounded by a sea of color and light. Some of the orbs had even inched into the open air. The first time Net had seen this sight, she was awed by its beauty. Now, though, she did not take a second thought, but grimly set to work.

Net unfolded what seemed to be fishing nets, which they were, but they were fishing nets of a vastly different sort. Like the bell, tiny runes scattered across the net’s threads, giving off a shining effect. Net cast them into the water and watched as they slowly drifted downward. Now it was time to wait again.

Net was a dream catcher, or a fisher of dreams, or whatever the gods called her. She was one of many, but Net had never met the others. She was not allowed to. The area where she worked was the Swamp, an isolated place home to only the rarest and most magical of freshwater creatures. But, none of the living would be able to survive in this place, at least the normal amongst the living could not. Net was not amongst the normal, nor was she amongst the living. Somehow, Net had died as a young as a human, and was given one of the gods’ many occupations for dead souls, which happened to be dream catching. All memories of Net’s previous life were erased, but the girl did not fancy thinking what her previous life must have been like. In her opinion, life must have been horrible for her to die at the tender age of 13. Net stared at the luminous sky, with nothing much to think about. With all of her memories replaced by unending years of fishing, she had nothing left to feel.

A picture of what I'd imagine the bell would look like.
---------------------------------------------------------------------

As always, comments, critique, suggestions, and questions are always welcome. Keep looking forward to more writing. Thanks. :)

The start of my first short story-!

Hey people (or whoever actually wants to read my stuff). Well, I basically finished writing my first full short story. But, I never got around to editing it, so I'm still working out the many (manymanymanymany) kinks in the flow, plot, pacing, etc. Well, here's the beginning if you want to get a feel of it. I still have to change it. (The wording and description doesn't seem adequate enough for me. ): ) Comments and criticism are welcomed!

The Fisher of Dreams----Part 1

Net dipped her hand in the blue green water and closed her eyes. The coolness was a pleasant feeling, one of the few feelings she had left. She took her hand out of the water and inspected it while flicking tiny water droplets off. It was ghostly white, almost transparent, and a little blurred around the edges, like always. Net frowned and sat back down, her little boat creaking gently. All she would have to do now was to wait for darkness to fall.

There were no fish in this swamp. The waters would kill any living thing that touched them. Then again, no creature that abided in the swamp was of the living. But, night was to fall soon, and souls would awaken again.

Net awoke to the tickling of a weeping willow branch. She had drifted a bit farther than she had expected. She hadn’t quite been sleeping, but lying down and closing her eyes was about as close as she could get. Net sat up and looked around; the sky had already turned from deep red to a shade of red violet. The time was soon. In the span of just a few minutes, Net watched the sky flow through a rainbow of colors, until finally, black velvet spread across the sky and ribbons of moonlight drifted through the willows. Somewhere, a song coursed from a throat, and the soft, rhythmic pulse of the swamps creatures arose. A blanket of fog spread across the waters, with swirls of white, blue, and emerald green. Net waited patiently for the picture to fully develop. The final touch came.

------------------To be continued


-Hand to the Emerald-

Guess what?! My writing comes with pictures!!! 8D

Hey, don't ask me why I named her Net. Well, actually, never mind. Ask away.
COPYRIGHT TO MEEEE! THE IDEA, STORY, EVERYTHING! D: Don't steal from a little kid like me, kay? Well, enjoy~!

Much love,
Pluffo!

It's time to open.

Welcome to -With a Flourish!-
Hey everybody. This is the opening of my very first blog! Just to introduce myself, I'm a pretty normal, aspiring writer who needs a place to show her work to the world. So, I'm basically going to post my writing here, along with some random news and announcements if needed.Feel free to post any comments or suggestions, because this is what my blog is all about. I'm still polishing my skills and developing my own style or writing. But, I really need constructive criticism, so help me out here.

Well, hope you enjoy! Please follow me if you like my work, Thanks!

Much love to all,
~Pluffo~