Your Perspective In Time and Fletcher Wings part 5: The Beginning of a Party

Your perspective in time is like a person standing on a road. The mountains (hard times) you see far ahead and behind you seem much smaller than the ones you have to get over now. The huge plains of waiting are almost completely hidden from view, no matter how long they take to cross when you are at them, and the small valleys of good times aren't seen again once you've left them, except one time.

That last time you glimpse them will be once you've climbed your last tall mountain and turn around at the peak to gaze serenely at all you've left behind. Then you will see those lush valleys, and all of the road-- the hard parts and the good. It will be the best perspective that you will get your whole life; because the last mountain is always the biggest, because all roads lead slowly upwards, if you were to level them out. And once you've gotten to that tallest peak, you will notice more about your life than ever before. You will see how sometimes, the hard struggle up the mountain actually was what led to the easy and restful walk down. You will smile to remember all those times that you conquered the mountains...
 
And then you will turn slowly, and begin to walk again, thinking with a bit of sadness, "It's all downhill from here."
 
And eventually you will get to the end of your road, and discover what you've been headed for your whole life, and I hope that you didn't take a wrong turn somewhere and not turn back. I hope that what you were headed for was what you were searching for. I know the way there, I think, but not many do. Even for me, it is so hard to read the sign posts pointing out the correct path.
 
Do you know what you are searching for? Home.
 
And if you do get there, it will still hurt like nothing you've ever felt before, just to step off the road after so much wandering. However, in the end, your heart wasn't made to travel. It was made to rest in the quiet of Home.

I hope I see you there.



 ......... That was something I wrote a day or two ago. I'll post more of Fletcher Wings also. Oh, and sorry that I didn't post. So much for 'tomorrow or next week!' (Haha)

            The next day Mr. Dwalvin woke me up. He said, in an annoyingly cheerful way, “Today is your welcome party. Be- or at least act- very thankful to have everyone visiting. It would be… unfortunate… if you made an enemy merely because you said the wrong thing in response to their head on a stick they somehow found appropriate to give you. Understand?” I groaned and sat up. I said, yawning, “Sure. Don’t argue. Look like you love everyone’s presents.” Mr. Dwalvin said, “Well, that’s the gist of it. Now come with me.” I complained sleepily, “I need some time to wake up!” He simply yanked the comfortable sheets and quilt off the bed. I was up like a spring, bolting down breakfast and pulling on a pair of leather trousers and a white linen shirt. Then I allowed Mr. Dwalvin to lead me away.

            We stopped at an impressive building and went inside, through the huge white marble columns. I felt hesitant to even walk up the steps, much less enter. The place was so stiff and official, and it reeked with politics and formal men who would frown at my messy hair and sleepy expression. It reminded me of the big buildings back on the other side of the Daun, except those were more modern.

            Despite the bad first impression, it didn’t seem so bad, once I got inside. The halls were brightly lit with candles and flowers. The floor was thick, soft, red carpet.

            Then I got to the party room.

            A huge chamber soared above me. To one side a stage was set, presumably for musicians. In the back of the room a chair sat, with a rug going up to it. The entire place was empty. Mr. Dwalvin said, “Hurry! We have not a moment to waste! Sit down in the chair and look smart while I get everything ready!” He hustled from the room. I looked around, then walked up to the chair and sat, feeling more than a bit ridiculous. I waited for about ten minutes, and then Mr. Dwalvin came back, leading an army of short men in black clothing and aprons. Several began sweeping, while others carried in a table with plates and food already set out on their shoulders, while at last several approached me. They led me away, into a small door, to a fairly large closet. It was full of ceremonial robes and suits. They told me to put one on, and then went back out the door. I looked through several ancient red robes, set aside several suits that looked too big around the waist for me, and even held up a blue robe. Every one didn’t fit, was too big, or too… interestingly colored. I finally came across a green outfit. It had black leather leggings that were clean and nice but not fanciful or with ruffles, a crisp light green tunic with a touch of black embroidery on the hem, and a swirling emerald green cloak. It all fit perfectly and was comfortable, feeling made for show but wearable in a fight. The cloak even had a slit down the back that would allow my wings through. I put up the hood and stepped back into the main room, closing the door behind me. I walked back to the chair, dodging the fairies, elves and dwarves that had filled the room in my absence. I sat down on the chair, stiffly, waiting to be told to do something. Then someone began playing a trumpet, and everyone in the room turned towards me.

A poem and Fletcher Wings part 4

This is a poem I wrote a while ago, inspired by the last poem in the book A Children's Garden of Verses. That last poem always makes me thoughtful and a little sad.

Childhood Home

Where is it,

That one may look,

And see what so long ago was mistook

For everyday life, just the same;

But really was much more than a game?

What now is treasures, away was took

By relentless time, such a crook

Of priceless memories.

All the petty worries,

Late night stories;

All of the past glories.

Where is it,

Where out the dusty back window,

You may spot the old willow,

Where the lilies grow,

Where pixies used to tip toe...

Where were you, fast asleep with soft grass as your pillow?


Well, anyway, I guess I'll post some more of Fletcher Wings.

            I sat miserably on a rug next to a dozen or so hyper little kids, who all were talking at once and drooling. The teacher thought I was a simpleton and treated me like a baby. We were learning stuff I already knew mostly, like counting and letters. I was surprised, because back with the Evenlys, we didn’t start learning that stuff until we were in second grade. Before then we learned discipline mostly. But every now and then, here, I would hear someone mention a battle I had never heard of, or a warrior, or the prince, who sounded much different from the Evenlys’. Despite that, I wasn’t having many ‘oh’ moments. Then came History.

            “Once upon a time the Odds, or Evenlys, as some call them, lived peacefully alongside the Cread.” I raised my hand and asked, “What does ‘Cread’ mean?” The teacher looked at me as though she thought I was joking and said, “That is short for creaduriaid, the Welsh word for creatures, meaning us.” I said, “Oh.” She continued, “At that time the Odds called themselves Humans. They knew about us, a little bit, but weren’t sure. Anyway, they found out. At first they just found out about several children, whose names were Arielle and Zachary. They, the children, saw that the Humans would eventually see that the Cread existed. So they thought it would be best to reveal the Cread peacefully, but, well, for now all you need to know is that something went wrong, and everything became what it is now. You will learn more when you are older and more … ready to hear.” Was it just me, or did her eyes rest on me when she said that? Did they think I would reveal them? I shifted my wings uncomfortably. The rest of the school day went by uneventfully.

            Later Mr. Dwalvin led me outside the school building and through a path up to a formidable looking gate. Inside there were trees and buildings. It was very beautiful because of stone gargoyles, fountains, and Spanish moss hanging down from the limbs of the trees. I had never seen so much plant life besides in the forest. Anyway, Mr. Dwalvin showed me past several large mansions, all of them fit for kings. I began to feel tired and asked at every building, “Is this it?” Every time he answered, “No. Yours is better.” Just when I decided to sleep on the ground and find my room later he said, “Here it is.” I looked up and saw that we were on a cliff. Perched precariously on the edge was a house, if you would call it that. It was a frame of dark wood, with white linen sheets instead of walls. Inside it was filled comfortably with several rooms. Inside was a hammock, several chests of who-knows-what, bottles of spices, maps, model ships, swords, clay sculptures, and millions of random artifacts. Its whole back wall that faced the cliff was gone; instead leaving a balcony with low railings that was entirely wood. The whole place was wonderful. I, after mumbling my thanks, sank into the hammock and was soon fast asleep, my wings around me.

This isn't my best writing. I've really gotten better since I wrote this, but I don't feel like changing much right now.

Anyway, I'll post more tomorrow, maybe, or sometime next week. Keep checking...

First Post in about One Year (my apologies)

Dear Readers,

Well, I haven't posted in a long time, almost a year.  Sorry, first I wanted some way to make sure people wouldn't copy something from this and post it somewhere as their own work, and then I just forgot about my blog....

Anyway, I haven't been working on my stories specifically as much anymore, although I feel I have improved drastically in my writing. Rather, I have spent more time on poems recently, due to my lack of discipline and consistency for longer pieces of work.

Simple, Only for a Minute

Sometimes the
Wise chose to be
Simple, only for a minute, and
Fools laugh at someone trying
To be only
a little girl,  speaks. Fools
Chop, chop, chop
Words of the wise
To little sounds,
Mincemeat.

I really enjoyed the abrupt feeling of it as I wrote this.... I normally write smoother poems, though.

Also, I've started writing essays. Here's one I think is cool:

Words are like the labels on points of A, B, C, and so on. They do not embody fully what they describe; but it is understood what they refer to.

The meanings of sentences are like lines connecting dots. In every sentence, one has to make assumptions and have background knowledge to comprehend what the meaning is. If I say line K’s endpoints are points A and B, and ask you to draw it on a grid, you can’t unless you already know where the points are.

            When one describes something, they are pouring out lines that all go through one point to try and get the listener to grasp this one infinitely definite point. None of the lines by themselves can clearly define it, but together, the listener might just be able to truly understand what the other is saying.

            Pictures are like planes. They hold many points and sometimes many lines, but if even one were changed, it wouldn’t be the same. Sometimes points and lines are better at describing something, because they can be specific. But sometimes pictures can be better, because instead of throwing out points and hoping the listener understands them separately, makes the correct assumptions to form them into lines, and then can see where they intersect, you can look at an image and be much more able to see if it embodies your meaning well enough. But the watcher might think you mean one part of it, when you want them to focus on another.

Sorry I'm posting so much... I just have done so much within the last year ;)

You watched for me

Wondering where I was

Did you ever regret sending me on?

I was off

Adventuring
While you waited for me to come home.

You left the window open for me

You let the cold air in
You stayed there

You left the window open

The light shone through the night…
The glimmers of your tears shone further.

You left the window up

You made sure I could come back
You put the kiss on my cheek
To call me home

You left the window open for me...

I won’t leave again.
You left the window open.

I wrote this because of the origional Peter Pan story. I really liked how it spoke of Mrs. Darling, who, when Wendy and her brothers left with Peter Pan, never closed the window to the nursery because Mrs. Darling was scared that Wendy would come home, but not be able to get in, and so turn around and go back to Neverland, and never see her mother again. (Wow, that's a long sentence).

-- Renee

The Poll

Sorry about the fact the poll doesn't have the question on it. It is supposed to say, "Which one sounds like the best story idea to you?" ... That was my first poll, and we are trying to figure out what went wrong.

Fletcher Wings part three- In Which I am Pushed Off a Cliff and My Little Sister Saves Me

So ... the next part. I have now enabled comments, so please write something! By the way, Y  is the Greek letter Y. You will see why it is important later.

            He brought in the mirror and held up a candle. I turned my head, unable to look. Then I slowly turned. It was true. Behind me were huge hawk wings that matched my hair. I put my hand out behind me. I could feel them, and they registered the touch of my hand. I moved them, and they worked. I whispered, “How?” The man said, “Normally they fold into your back. Before you knew about them, they practically didn’t exist. But now that you do know about them, they will never lie flat on your back again. You will never feel the back of a normal chair on your back again, Fletcher. No Evenlys will ever look at you the same. If you want, you can shove them in a backpack, or pose as a hunchback, though.”

Y

            I looked down, suddenly queasy. Tip: Never look off a cliff that people expect you to jump off of and fly away from if you are feeling dizzy. If that ever happens to you, I suggest you report the crazy people who think you should do this, or run. Unfortunately, I had neither the means to report them or run. So I did the opposite: I obeyed them. Well, not exactly. They told me to jump. I just stood there, so the man who had revealed my wings (his name is Dwalvin) gave me a starter push. Not a good idea. I fell down, flapping my arms (and wings) wildly. It didn’t help. I forced my wings up, and that slowed me down… a bit. I flapped once. I slowed a second and them speeded up, and I was free falling. I thought hazily, “Good thing they chose such a tall cliff for me to jump off of so I can get used to this.” Them I flapped again, and again, squeezing my eyes shut. Was it just me, or was I slowing in my fall? I peeked out and saw that, sadly, I was not slowing. I spread my wings again, not attempting to flap yet. Above me the man yelled, “Open up your wings more! Now they are only open a fourth of the way!” I hesitantly pushed them open. Suddenly they were bigger than I was. The sunlight glimmered on the feathers, and I hung, suspended on air. I flapped a mighty flap and went up. I fell between each flap, but that was okay. I was flying! I wasn’t the best ever, but it was a start. It was amazing how it happened. I just flapped and up I went. I glanced down. That was another bad idea. My wings faltered, losing their power to move, and I plummeted. I flapped my arms like crazy, forgetting that I had wings. I heard the people above me yelling, “Don’t look down! Pull up!” I yelled back, “A bit late for that!” I dove desperately for the cliff face, thinking that I might be able to hold on. I slammed against the red rock and my hands grabbed tiny handholds. I panted. Sweat dripped down my face. Mr. Dwalvin yelled, “Are you okay?” I called back, “Yes! No thanks to you!” A moment passed and he yelled, “Can you fly?” I said, sarcastically, “Of course I can fly. Last night I found out I have wings and all I have ever believed in is false, a couple of minutes ago someone just shoved me off a cliff, and I am hanging by my fingers to a small rock shelf above a fall that would break every bone in my body. Oh, and I just figured out that I am sort of afraid of heights.” Mr. Dwalvin said, “Good! Well, since you think you can fly, maybe it would be best if you come on up here, don’t you agree?” I yelled, “I was being sarcastic! Please throw me a rope or something!” In about ten minutes, it turned out he chose the something in that statement. I felt two thin, worryingly weak arms grab my waist from behind and I nearly kicked them in my reflex. I stopped myself just in time, because it occurred to me that they were one more thing keeping me up. I forced myself to be still, and whoever it was lifted me from the wall. I heard soft wing beats like a butterfly’s and I was being carried up to the top of the cliff. I turned around to see who it was.

            The most pretty little girl I had ever seen stood there, with white wings that I could not believe were strong enough to hold me and the girl up, pale skin, sparkling blue eyes, and light pink lips. She said, truly sincere, “I am so sorry that turned out the way it did. I can’t wait for someone else to fly with.” She was about five. I looked her over, thinking she looked familiar, and then I did a double take. Those eyes, they were the same shape as mine! And her high cheekbones looked the same as mine! It was as if I was looking at a weak, light, girl version of me. She said, in her small voice, “I am Sarah, your little sister.”

            I said, “Wait, I have a sister?” Thoughts rushed into my head. Did I have a home, parents, or other siblings? I had never thought about it before. I said, in a rush, “Do I have parents or another sibling?” Mr. Dwalvin said, gravely, “We do not know. But it is of the utmost importance that if you do we find them.” I nodded and said, “I am ready for a mission. Send me to try to find them.” Mr. Dwalvin said, “I am glad that you feel that way, but you need to be reeducated.” I protested, “But the Evenlys gave me the best education they had!” He said, “Then it is all the worse, because that gives you more to unlearn. We have different fighting styles, different survival methods, different ways of interacting. You will need to learn it all if you are going to fulfill the prophe- er, if you want to be a good warrior.” I said, “What prophecy?” He, pretending not to hear, said, “Come along, now. Step lively. Time for you to go to school.” I repeated, more insistently, “What prophecy?” He said, “All will be made clear in time. Now hurry up.”

            And so I restarted kindergarten.


... Enjoy

Fletcher Wings part two: The Betrayal

            Nathaniel shoved down his sadness over leaving Andrea, and put his mask of blankness on. None of us had had to use our masks for so long. Andrea whimpered, imagining life without us. I just put on my stare and looked at Sir Dime. He watched us. Then he said, “Packs for you are at the bottom of the stairs. Your mission is to survey the area and keep any monsters out of the woods, because that is land we have won back that is outside the Prince’s protection field. Do not cross the River Daun, because beyond that is monster territory.”

            I will not bore you with the details of hugging Andrea, and walking down the stairs. Rather, I will skip to the door. The door that I had been so apprehensive to enter. Now I felt apprehensive to leave. I wanted adventure, but I had not been outside for a year. I glanced at Nathaniel. I had to act unafraid, because I didn’t want him to know I was. So I opened the door. In front of us were two shoulder bags. I picked mine up and Nathaniel picked up his. We glanced at each other, still thinking of Andrea, and then we walked forward together. Several of the other students saw us and looked as though they had seen ghosts. We just walked forward, past the lunch area where we had first met, and I thought I could feel the younger me grabbing his hand, right here, so long ago. I walked past. And finally we were at the gates. We walked on.

            After walking several miles, we came to the edge of the protective field. Neither of us had ever been outside. Not a word was spoken. We just stepped forward, and then we were in the forest.

            We camped with our heads in the force field and our feet out. Inside the air was full of familiar smells. Outside the air was wild and new.

            The next morning we ate jerky produced from my bag. Then we stood up and were off, lost in the wild woods. I felt free in a new way.

            Nathaniel broke the silence. “So …” was all he said, but I answered anyway. “So. Where are the monsters?” I asked. He shrugged and replied, “I guess hiding.” We walked for a while more, still unclear of our mission, and then I stopped and listened. There it was! Talking! We crept forward silently on spoken agreement. On the edge of a clearing we halted. There were several strange people. One was short with a beard. Another was tall. One had huge blue wings. We stepped forward and held up our daggers, which had also been in our packs. They looked up, startled, and the one with wings flew away. I took off after him. I saw Nathaniel chasing the others.

            I watched, in awe, as the monster soared effortlessly above me and I followed.

            A little while later, I kept my eyes on the sky and stomped my foot in frustration. On wings, they were impossible to track. I had just lost the one I had been following, but those wings had been magnificent! If I had wings, not only could I track more easily, I would also have freedom. No one could control me. No one at all.

            I went back to the clearing, planning to track Nathaniel and see if he had had any more luck than I. The tracks were confusing—some faced different directions, and some ran off the main track. Then they ended. It would have taken careful work to make them that distorted, and the monsters didn’t have time for that. One thing was clear, though: Nathaniel had not walked away. At least I hadn’t found a body. But then again, knowing they had him was pretty bad. He must face torture, imprisonment, or death. I had to save him. Not only was he a friend I would die for, but also Sir Dime would be angry if I let him go this easy. And Andrea would kill me.

            I walked for a couple days, searching for clues, and every now and then I would scare a monster. Then one day I stumbled across the Daun River—literally.

            I fell down into the water. I came up sputtering. I swam back to the bank and pulled myself up. I turned and there was Nathaniel on the other side of the river. He was watching me with a strange expression. I was on the alert, forgetting that if someone was going to attack they would have done it while I was in the water. I scanned the opposite bank, up all the trees, looked behind me, everything. I turned to Nathaniel and called, “Is there an ambush?” Nathaniel said, “Nothing hidden. Just me.” I, glancing around, slowly swam across, alert to any small detail that would signal an ambush. I reached the bank and climbed up. I said to Nathaniel, “What happened?” Nathaniel said, “They were a big fraud. The Evenlys are evil.” I stared at him as if he had sprouted wings. He went on, “Don’t you see it? They are power hungry. The ‘monsters’ are good.” I stared at him and said, “Don’t betray me. Don’t.” I shook my head and walked backwards. “No. Don’t. You can’t. Think of Andrea.” A pained look came over his face, but he insisted, “I hoped I could get her to join us.” I said, “Stop saying that. Don’t betray me. Because then—Then I would have to kill you.” I had been shouting, but I whispered the last part. “I don’t want to kill you.” He looked at me sadly and said, “You won’t. You will either join us, be sentenced to prison, or be executed.” Then he pleaded one last time, “Please. Trust me.” I shouted, “You betrayed me! We were going to live adventures together! I will never trust you again, traitor!” Tears streamed down my face. He stared at me and slowly, ever so slowly, he pulled out a dart gun. I whispered, “Et tu, Nathaniel?” and he shot the gun.

I woke up chained to a chair by my wrists and feet. I instantly straightened my back and stared ahead, my face blank. I was in a small underground room, and it was pretty dark. Then the horrible reality sank in. Nathaniel had betrayed me! Seeing that I was alone, and the chair was nailed down, I began to cry. Sobs shook me. Oh Nathaniel, I thought, What did they tell you that made you believe them?

            The door opened. I tensed like a spring and glared at the short figure silhouetted in the door way. I shouted, “You will never buy me! I stick with beliefs. I am loyal. I will not join you!” The figure said, “What if you are loyal to the wrong people? What then?” I said, “Then I die for what I believe to be goodness, whether I was misdirected or not.” The figure said, “Then you are a fool, for only a fool believes and dies for something he isn’t sure about.” I said, “But a loyal fool is better than a betraying wise man.” The man answered, “The loyal fool must be blind then, because only a blind man would believe that one party is right before seeing the other side of the story!” I answered, “Yes, but this is not the case! The Evenlys are good. They are hard, but rewarding. Like a hawk trainer, they actually care about me.” The man shot back, “But what if the hawk gets tired? They will whip it. What if the hawk’s best isn’t good enough? They will not reward it and it will go hungry. What if the hawk wants peace? They will call it lazy. What if the hawk gets old? Then all the other hawks will turn on it.” I answered, “Okay, so a hawk trainer was not a fitting metaphor. So what?” The man chuckled meanly and answered darkly, “Oh yes it was. More than you realize.” I asked, “What!?” He said, “You are already one of us.” The room spun. I said, panicked, “What do you mean?” Beads of sweat gathered on my forehead. A sick feeling rose in my stomach. I gripped the arms of the chair. I already knew the answer, but I didn’t want to believe it. The man said, “You are a hawk.” And that was when my wings exploded.

Keep checking this blog for more of the story!

Fletcher Wings part one: The Academy's Best.

            I listened carefully to my teacher. It was the first day of school after summer, and I didn’t know anyone at all, even the teachers, because I had just started going to this school, The Academy Elite. She said, “Now class, I know you all have heard that from now on you will be learning when to use your skills, and of course brush them up.” She turned to me. “I understand that you, Fletcher Wings, were from Rivendell Academy? And I presume you, young man, learned up to level seventy five, as I was told?” I looked down, my cheeks hot. I muttered, “I’m from Rivendell and I only passed level fifty.” I heard giggling. The teacher said, “Well then, seeing as all these other good children are level eighty, you had better catch up quickly.” I understood her tone. Rivendell was a poor school from the wrong side of town, and this was a tried and true school for very talented, rich kids. But little did they know why I was accepted—because I was already capable of level three thousand. Most adults reached a lofty two hundred at the peak of their lives. Most kids my age would be a twenty, but the other children didn’t know that. They thought I was the school’s yearly charity case, but I knew I wasn’t. Sure, I hadn’t paid my tuition, but I could’ve won any scholarship that I wanted.

            My teacher said, “Now it is time for history. We will be learning about conflicts. Now, I know that you have heard about strange things that you start learning now. You are correct."

            “Many years ago we, the Evenlys, were ignorant. We called ourselves Humans, and thought that we were the only intelligent beings anywhere. You all are just as ignorant as we were then. We began to notice subtle things—spirits and monsters. Suddenly more strange reports were coming in of creatures—witches, hags, werewolves, and dragons. These fearsome creatures brought with them darkness and uncertainty. Then, our noble prince saved the day."

            “It was he who vanquished these apparitions, who banished them! Unfortunately, his most trusted friend and advisor who knew him like no others did, suddenly turned on him and our prince saw that he was a strange creature in disguise. We do not know exactly what he was, but he interfered with the prince’s protective enchantments so that there was one single flaw that would allow horrible beasts in.”

            Everyone looked at the teacher, entranced by her tale. In the flickering candlelight of the chamber, everything seemed so dramatic. The teacher whispered, “The flaw is classified, for after that the prince could not trust anyone with that information, as anyone could be the betraying friend that had created the flaw. Our only hope was that the betrayer didn’t know what flaw he created, so we have to keep it a secret. Some schools don’t even teach that there is a flaw, they say that we venture out to fight the monsters so that we can gain back lost land. Others, at really bad schools, teach that we don’t even do that, we only continue with our defenses so that we can be prepared if something drastic were to happen.” My teacher looked at me as if she thought I was something drastic and said, “Understand, children, that this ‘lesson’ is only taught at schools where no one is expected to be successful-- schools like Hoofclaw, Fleerywings, or… Rivendell.” She looked pointedly at me. The other children laughed at me with guttural, loud laughs. I stared downwards, cheeks flaming. I wanted so badly to recite so much of my knowledge that they would all be speechless and want me to be their friend. Instant popularity. But no, that wouldn’t be right. A secret weapon is a thousand times more effective than an exposed one, even though it does make your enemies afraid.

            My teacher carried on, smirking, “Anyway, that is why we all learn perfect survival skills. Or at least, all except some children who don’t belong here, who don’t know above Level 50.” Everyone snickered. I just fixed my unblinking, icy, cold blue eyes on my teacher. I saw her shudder slightly, feeling my stare. Everyone else whispered and laughed, oblivious to the silent battle between me and her.

            Later at lunch, I carefully began eating my food, scanning the crowds around me for threats. Many times I had seen other kids’ lunches get stolen while teachers watched, saying it prepared them for the real world. I had always been too smart to let anyone steal my meals, and I wasn’t going to let down my guard. Sure enough, some fool began walking up behind me with a superior expression. I sat still. They were trying to be quiet, but I could clearly hear them. One … Two … Three … Then it was time. I grabbed his hand as it reached out to take my sandwich. He tried to yank his hand back, but I held his fingers tightly. I observed, “Some cultures once believed to steal something and then giving it back was good manners, to show you were not an enemy. Are you from one of them?” The courtyard was quiet, as everyone watched us. Obviously he was one of the top students from the Academy, never beaten like this before. He flashed a white-toothed grin at me that contrasted his dark skin, and, not intimidated by my stare, said, “No, but I was just wondering if you would notice.” I slowly let his hand go. He swept an extravagant bow and said, “Pleased to meet you. You may address me as His Highness, or just Nathaniel.” I said, “Nice meeting you, as well, Just Nathaniel. You may call me Fletcher.” He laughed, but I saw respect in his eyes. The other children had gone back to eating, seeing that we wouldn’t start fighting. Nathaniel said, “So. Nice move, grabbing my hand like that. Where did you learn it?” I answered, “I made it up.” He nodded, concealing his surprise well. I watched him carefully. Concealing emotions was considered a survival skill as well, though not officially.

            From that point on, we were good friends. We were the Academy’s best, despite everyone’s first opinions of me. As luck would have it, I shared a dorm room with Nathaniel.

            One day when I stepped into class, the teacher, who had resented me since the first day, said sadly, “Fletcher, I have news. You are going to be moved to a higher class.” I sat up straighter. The teacher continued, brightening up a bit, “It is in the Tower of Hawks.” I hid my shock as best I could. No one was allowed in the Hawk Tower! I stood up and strolled out, acting as if I had everything in control. Which I didn’t. I stepped up to the door to the tower. I summoned my blankest face, preparing to accept whatever came next.

            Inside were … spiral stairs. Going up as far as I could see. They wound around a central area about 10 feet across. I stepped onto the first step. Then the next. Then the next. And the next.

            Some time later, I was still climbing stairs. I was beginning to feel lost in the emptiness. The stairs were wide, with high ceilings, but it was dark. I felt like I was too small to fill up the stairs. They were so empty. Every noise I made echoed loudly in the gloom. Even I, with my cat step, could not stop the sound of echoes rebounding from my feet.

            Finally, just when I thought I would scream, I arrived at a dead end except for a small trap door above my head. I opened it, once again forcing my face into an unreadable mask. Nathaniel and a girl I didn’t know were waiting for me. She had red hair, glaring green eyes, and a defiant pose. She looked me up and down, taking in my straight back, clenched hands, stern blue-grey eyes, strong chin, and my hair. My hair was probably the strangest thing about me: It was ivory blond with dark brown spots, like a hawk’s plumage. It was cut short except for the bangs, one of which was cut off, and the other was long, hiding one eye partially.

            The room we were in was circular with glass walls. The ceiling was bigger than the floor, giving the room a futuristic feeling. A long black wood table graced the center of the room, and at the head sat a tall man with brown eyes, black hair, and pale skin. His hands were folded and he stared at us with a hint of amusement twitching his otherwise vacant expression. After a minute or two with everyone staring at everyone else, the man spoke. He said, “You may sit.” His voice had a commanding air, and we all sat immediately. Once we were around the table, the man said, “You may call me Sir Dime.” Motioning towards the girl, he said, “This is Andrea Flamaz.” She snapped, “Thank you. I didn’t know that.” Sir Dime, ignoring her, nodded towards Nathaniel and said, “This is Nathaniel Dorske.” Nathaniel inclined his head slightly, keeping his eyes on Sir Dime. Sir Dime turned to me and said, “And this, this is the infamous Fletcher Wings, the pupil with the highest level in the entire world.” I stared straight ahead, unwilling to let his announcement surprise me. Sir Dime stared intently at us, well, me, as though analyzing my blank expression. I met his gaze evenly.

            Finally he broke my gaze, saying, “You are here because you are the elite. You are the next generation of leaders, the next commanders. You are the ones who will save the Evenlys.”

            We began learning secrets, histories, skills, and theories. We learned knowledge long forgotten, memorized maps, honed our instincts, and learned generally how to be a hero. For about a year, we slept in rooms above the circular room and saw no one except each other and Sir Dime. We three students became good friends, the very best, and I noticed that Nathaniel and Andrea seemed to be flirting sometimes. It was a good time, but we began to wish for fresh air rather than a window, savory foods rather than the nutritional tasteless stuff they gave us, and we longed for adventure.

            One day, after a normal breakfast, Sir Dime announced, “Today two of you will be embarking on your first mission.” We all gasped in excitement, but then, when what he had said had sunk in, a feeling of dread set in. Someone would be left behind. Sir Dime said, “Nathaniel will be going to the forest.” Nathaniel looked in pain, trying to imagine leaving one of us behind. Andrea and I looked at each other. We were both guilty of wanting to go. Sir Dime said, “And Fletcher will be going with you.”

... To be continued.

The Magnificent Story

            Once upon a time, in a place surprisingly close, there was a king. He had founded the nation he was king over, and he was beloved by all. He helped his kingdom grow in beauty. For a time, all was well. Great forests rose up, people were skilled and great philosophers, and everyone was happy. It was perfect except one thing.

            In charge of the king's army was a great commander. The king had given him power for good and everyone obeyed the commander, and the commander obeyed the king. But in the commander’s heart hid a single seed of darkness. If the commander had only admitted to fault, perhaps everything would have been fine. But the commander was proud, and he hid the badness growing inside him.

            One day, the commander gave in to the badness, and he turned suddenly upon the loyal soldiers and convinced them that the king was evil. The soldiers who believed him went with him to storm the palace. The rest of the soldiers who were still loyal told the king as fast as they could. Now the king was a strong man, and he could have easily defeated the commander. But in a fight, the people who didn’t know what was happening would follow the commander, not seeing that they were fighting their beloved king. So the king was forced to wait for the message to spread.

            Some of the people of the nation just didn’t know that the commander had betrayed the king. Some knew, but were too afraid to tell anyone. Others knew and just wanted to follow the commander, for he promised riches to all who would betray the king. Some realized he was evil, but they were afraid that since they had followed the commander for a time, the king would be angry and treat them as the traitors they were. Very few knew about the betrayal and followed the true king. These few worked hard to be good enough to appease the king.

            The ones that were working hard to belong with the king knew they weren’t good enough to ever make up for how they had betrayed him before they realizied exactly what was happening. The king saw this problem, and he wanted them to be safe inside his palace, but betrayers weren’t allowed in his palace. So, he sent out his only son, the prince, to trade him for the ones who trusted the king. The prince was not a traitor, so he could switch places with all the people and be the commander’s prisoner instead. So the commander had some of the people strike the prince. Everyone who saw and still trusted the king were sad and mourned, for now they believed no one could save them. But the prince was so great and powerful and loving that he stood up, and everyone saw he had only been hurt on his heel!

            All of the people who trusted the king were taken back to the palace, where they were safe, and the prince was strong enough to escape the commander’s clutches. But some of the people didn’t see that they could go to the palace, or they didn't believe it, so the ones who understood, did their best to spread the message that the prince had saved them, and he had not forgotten them. The saved people in the palace asked the king to go and fight off the commander, but he knew that anyone still out there who hadn’t had a chance at freedom yet would be killed during the fight. So he waits now, waiting for his people to believe him and enter the palace.

            Someday, when everyone has entered the palace who will, the king and the prince with the loyal soldiers will ride out and conquer the commander and his evil troops. But now, until everyone has heard, we must wait. For we are the people who are loved by the king. The king is God. The prince is Jesus Christ, the one who died for us. The loyal soldiers are angels, invisible but watching out for us. The commander is Satan, the betrayer. The unloyal soldiers are fallen angels. The King is waiting for us to spread the word, so that we will be safe when the final battle comes.  Are you ready to help spread the word? Send this to two other people, or show someone else this blog, until everyone has heard.

 

Princess Sarah and the Wicked Witch of the Gingerbread House part two

Here is the last part-- sorry for the late time, but today was a school day, and even though I didn't have any homework tonight I had to finish, I love to read and got caught up in a book... oh well. At least I am getting it posted now rather than tomorrow.

            Sarah walked for a long time, holding a stick ahead of her to use as a weapon in case of an emergency. She was just getting tired and hungry and scared when she saw a quaint little wooden cottage up ahead. Sarah hastened forward, anxious to meet someone who might help her in her exploring. Sarah knocked on the door. The whole house looked so nice and good she didn’t stop to think that perhaps she should have been worried about who lived there. The door opened, and out stepped an old woman with a gray bun, sparkling blue eyes, and wrinkles from smiling. She wheezed, “Oh, are you lost, dearie?” Sarah said, “No. I’ve been exploring this area, and I thought if I could borrow a map from someone who already lives here it would be easier.” The old lady said, “Oh, I have plenty of maps! But first, come in and have some tea.” Sarah, who was quite hungry and sleepy, stepped inside. She looked around, and realized the inside walls of the house were made of ginger bread. Suddenly she remembered a story her parents had told her about a witch who lived in a house like this one. Sarah’s breath caught in her throat. The witch cackled, “Why don’t you go get the tea from the stove, dearie?” Sarah stuttered, “Actually, I just remembered that I need to get back to my home for tea! Well, thank you for the offer of tea, but I must go.” The witch, seeing she had been recognized, said, “Bumpity lumity warty log, turn that unthankful princess into a frog!” Sarah felt herself shrinking, much to her chagrin. Someone knocked on the door. The witch froze in midcackle and turned, a malicious smile already forming on her hideous face. The witch opened the door to admit a small boy and girl. The witch immediately slammed the door shut behind them and cackled, “Ha! Three catches in one day!” Both children looked frightened, but Gretel, a smart girl, said, “Well, I was wondering, I mean, I have always wanted to be a witch, and I was wondering…” The witch smiled and said, “You want to be my apprentice? But you will have to let me eat that boy.” Gretel grinned and said, “Oh, yes! Thank you. I don’t really care much about my brother. But first, I saw an old broom outside, sweeping the doorstep…?” The witch muttered, “Oh, it got out of its shed again? I’ll go and put it up. You watch the frog and the boy.” With that the witch walked outside. Gretel called after her, “It might have gone some way into the woods by now!”

            Hansel looked around. His gaze landed on Princess Sarah the frog. He bent down and picked her up. She croaked, “Put me down!” Hansel dropped her from surprise. Sarah said, “I am an enchanted princess.” Gretel turned and said, “Wow!” Hansel went over to a cupboard and looked inside, saying as he did so, “I will see if I can find a way to fix you.” After a moment, he walked back over to Sarah holding a vial that had a label reading, “Spell release. Good until April 31^st.” Hansel knelt down next to Sarah and poured a tiny bit onto the floor. Sarah stepped into it and began to turn into a human. One problem: she was still tiny. Sarah said, “I guess it is after April 31^st." Gretel started to look for a potion to make her big again, but Sarah protested, "The witch will be back any minute now. I'll find a way to grow bigger later."

            Together they all walked outside. Soon they came to a stream. A small white duck was sitting in the water. Sarah said, “Well, I best be going. I’m small enough to ride this duck.” She stepped onto her duck and floated away downstream to whatever adventures would await her. Hansel and Gretel cried after her, “Bye! We can find our way home from here. Good luck! Bye forever, I guess!” Sarah had the unexplainable feeling they would meet again, though. Perhaps on some future adventure…

First Posted Story-- Princess Sarah and the Wicked Witch of the Ginger Bread House, part one

So anyway, this is the first part of a two part story I wrote. This writing is not the best ever, but I really can't decide which story I want to post, and this is a shorter story to get me started with the idea of posting stories.

            Once upon a time there was a princess who was not princessy at all. She despised pink and had atrocious manners and worst of all when she grew up she wanted nothing more than to be a great, famous explorer. She worked hard to achieve her dream. She would spend hour after hour reading maps late into the night; even though the only school work she was required to do in that kingdom was to study languages, history, etiquette, and needle work. Her parents would worry about her. Her mother would say, “It is not right that such a young girl should be so interested in exploring!” Her father would say, “And she always tries to ignore us when we do things for her safety, like the tasters, doctors, and guards.”The servants would see her trying to have adventures and escape the guards and they would say, “What a spoiled child! She has all that wealth wasted on her and she isn’t thankful. If I could afford it, I’d have such fine foods and tasters, but she insists on acting like she wants to escape her wealth.” The King and Queen would hear this and shake their heads sadly but their daughter was not willing to listen to their side of the story: how they worried for her and did all that for her own good.

            They would have loved to have an exploring daughter but they had to look out for the kingdom. The kingdom would need a king who would marry the princess and what prince would marry a princess who was unladylike? One day the Queen sighed, “If only there were some children our daughter could play with. Then she would be happy.” The King exclaimed, “You are a genius! We can have some other good princes and princesses come and play with her, and she will be happy!”

            And so it was done. One morning when the princess, whose name was Sarah, woke up, the queen was standing next to her, beaming. She said excitedly, “We have a plan so you can be happy! We have some children for you to play with, and you will like them!” Princess Sarah sat up, barely daring to hope, and got ready, then went outside into the courtyard. There were some plump children dressed in frills and bonnets awaiting her. She, unwilling to abandon hope of playmates despite their appearance, said, “Let’s play hide and go seek!” One of the children said, “Oh no. I might get scratched on some thorns inside of bushes!” Sarah cocked her head. She had never worried about that before. She tried again. “How about kick ball or tag? With those you stay away from thorns.” Another plump princess said, “That would be horrible! We could slip, and twist our ankles!”Sarah asked, “I have it! Will you roll down a hill with me? That way we won’t go near thorns or have anywhere to fall to.” The other children said, “That would be worst of all, because then we would get dirty.”

            Sarah shook her head sadly and was very thankful she wasn’t like those other children, content to sit around and never do anything wrong or exciting. But still, it made her kind of angry that they wouldn’t play with her, that her parents thought she wasn’t good enough, and she never got anything fun to do. So Sarah decided to explore. She knew the perfect place. On the other side of the west wall of the courtyard, there was the Deep Forest. Many brave explorers and bold adventurers had gone in there and come back scared and frightened or not at all. It was said to be filled with monsters, witches, and evil trolls. It would be the perfect place to start Sarah’s career as an explorer. Leaving the children behind, Sarah hurried over to the west wall and climbed up the ivy and sat on top of the wall. Looking back at the castle, you and I would have seen a happy life filled with luxuries, but all that Sarah saw was the tedious manners, itchy clothing, and disappointed parents. Still, when Sarah looked ahead, things looked even worse and, for a moment, Sarah wanted to climb down and go back to her normal, boring life. But that didn’t last long. Even with the shadows and dead trees and fearful noises, Sarah was very stubborn. So she climbed down into the forest, oblivious to the trials she would soon face.

Read tomorrow's post for the rest of the story!