For those of you who have noticed...I've been missing in action for two days.
For those of you who haven't noticed...I've still been missing in action for two days.
I was going to post my schedule to explain what's making me so busy these past few days, but I figured you'd stop reading if you saw it. If you haven't already stopped reading. ...Hello? Is anybody out there?
Okay. So now that everyone is bored off, I can talk about the really exciting stuff! Heh, heh. Instead of blogging yesterday, I wrote a 3,000-word story for my sister's birthday, which was also yesterday. (Yes, I procrastinated. But I finished the story by 2:00 p.m.) It's actually fan fiction of sorts, because it originated with a story that my sister wrote when she was in 8th grade. The main character is a plucky young heroine who is pretty good at doing heroic stuff. Here are the first few paragraphs for your reading pleasure.
Kristen the Brave dashed under cobwebs and over fallen beams. The ghosts of the Haunted House didn’t seem like they would stop chasing her anytime soon.
“You’ll never catch me!” Kristen the Brave yelled. She smiled to herself. The ghosts didn’t know that she had raced on a cross country team for years.
She clutched the ruby in one hand and her sword in the other, though it was useless against ghosts. But who knew what other dangers lurked in the old Victorian house.
And then her foot hit something in the dark, flinging her into the air. She landed flat on the rotting wood. The ruby clattered out of reach, winking like an evil eye in the lamplight.
“Oops,” said Kristen the Brave. But she was already up an running again. She snagged the ruby as she went. The icy breath of the ghosts fogged against the back of her neck. But that was okay. Kristen the Brave liked winter.
She burst out into the dark night and found herself in an old cemetery. Why it was in the backyard of a Victorian house, she didn’t know. Kristen the Brave ran amongst the tombstones and spun back toward the house. The ghosts had stopped in fear, dipping and drifting at the edge of the graveyard. They didn’t dare go in amongst the stones. Otherwise their mothers would find out they were up past their bedtime.
