YES! With 8,666 words on 1.5 spaced pages my friends and I have finally reached goal number 3!
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Valzar has written 6 entries about this goal
It’s funny how, once you get started, the story gets addicting. Whether for the writing that you can’t wait to get a chance to add to, or for the others that ask me when I enter the classroom, “Have you written another chapter?” or “Can I PLEASE read your story?”
I have about 7500 words, which is an accomplishment for my friend and me. The whole story has been written through e-mails, so there have been delays, but things are starting to click now.
I have typed over 60 pages and hand-drawn 2 of my multiple characters. It has taken me seemingly forever because I have gone over and over the story countless times adding details, better word choices, and sometimes making changes that completely change my plot. All of these have been for the better, so I am glad I’ve done it. All the distractions! I have great support though. My teacher keeps urging me on. The fact that she really wants to see it published pushes me on. Even the guy in my class that hates books is hooked on my story. I bring it in every day so my fellow writer, and friends, can read it. I can’t believe I’m not bored yet! Normally I get 10 pages or so done and I lose interest. I am surprised.
Please tell me how you like this. I’m up to 35 pages so far and I want to continue it. I would just like some creative criticism. Well here it is:
I stalked through the grass covered in little spheres of dew. They clung to my fur like fleas. Spring was arriving, but the breeze still brought the bitterly cold air down from the mountains. As I walked I thought about all of the terrible things that had happened in my destroyed past. Tears streamed down my face. The wind whispered reassuring words to me, but it did not calm me as it was attempting.
I knew that before long I would arrive at that bare hill, my safe-haven. Without consciously realizing it I stopped at the grassy foot of the hill. I picked my way carefully up the slope, being sure not to step wrongly. Once at the top I sat and closed my watery eyes. My tears trickled down my face and splattered on the ground leaving little wet spots dotting it. I sadly opened my eyes.
Finally the sun managed to breach the horizon, its gentle rays bravely poking out above the treetops. The sun shone through the nearby trees casting streaks of mist across my valley.
The beautiful voices of the birds were singing their unique song. The sweet melody seeped throughout the plains and the surrounding forest. All around me the green feathers of the woodbirds flitted in and out of their underground burrows. Insects and shiny, black beetles were clamped tightly in their beaks.
Sea birds swam in their enormous, blue ocean of a sky. Their quivers and bows were attached firmly to their backs. Feathered headbands were slipped over the heads of the warriors, while a colossal headdress decorated the head of the chief.
I decided for today I would try to forget my past. My parents were tortured in front of my eyes. Their pleads echoed in my head. It’s not right to witness a dreadful deed like that. I had accepted it long ago. Death follows me, and I deal with it.
I stared at the forest’s edge. They would come soon, and I knew it. A sleek scaled head peered out through the trees. After the creature was sure that the coast was clear he stepped into the open along with two others.
Magnificent creatures they were, scalepelts, magnificent. They had shiny black scales covering their heads, necks, and arms, but their bodies were covered in a shaggy coating of fur.
They pulled little handmade flutes out of their sling packs. The flutes were brought to their scaly lips, and they began to play. The tune they played coincided perfectly with the birds’ song. When one quit playing and began to sing, I sung silently along.
“Down toward the sea thy evil is gone. Down by the pond thy evil is depart. Thy songs we sing are sung while free. Thy creatures that live sing ‘long with me. Oh, thy evil has left, as we’re free once more. And safely we’ll be everlastingly free. Thy evil is no more…” the scalepelt sang in a perfect voice.
I turned my back to the scalepelts and began to walk back to Meadow Rock. I looked back once more at the hill and the grassy field. I noticed a weasel creeping into a burrow. A loud screech ended the song of harmony between the scalepelts and the birds.
I turned away again. I hate this curse of death. I can’t be around any living thing; with my luck they’d die right under my nose, just as the chick in the burrow did. For now I’ve decided to live by myself. It’s lonely, but I cannot hurt anyone. Now you see why I say death follows me.
My old book got too repetitive and boring sadly I gave up on my 78 page story and began again. Here it is:
Paws, Claws, and Traitors
I stalked through the dew-wet grass as the sun was about to clear the horizon. Before long I would come to that bare hill. As I walked I thought about how my life had gone wrong. I had felt like a sliver of grass being blown uncontrollably by winds of cruelty. Now after all that, I can’t believe I am happy. The wind rustled my fur, whispering meaningless words to me, but it did not calm me as it was trying to do. Without consciously realizing it I stopped atop the hill and closed my eyes, just as I have every morning for over a year. The sun touched my ears and warmed my fur, its gentle rays calming my scarred, restless soul. I heard beautiful voices of birds singing their songs. The sweet melody hung in the air for long lengths of time. I opened my eyes and saw the green feathers of the wood birds flitting in and out of dugout burrows with worms and insects clamped in their beaks. Seabirds swam in their ocean of a sky, twirling, flipping, twisting, and soaring. If only I could be that carefree. Their perfect show of style and skill was mind-blowing. For today I would let myself wander and forget my past. As if anything would matter at the end of this. I’d watched my parents die, their pleads still echo in my head. Death seems to follow me wherever I go. I try to stay away from others because I am afraid fatal things will come upon them. For now I’ll live alone. Just as I was about to leave a weasel swept into a burrow yards away. A screech ended the wood bird song. Now you see why I say death follows me.