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alexandrie
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 Posted: Thu Apr 23, 2009 3:05 pm Post subject: Of Fairy Premonitions and Prophetic Whisperings (revised) |
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The sun peeked through the blinds, covering the room in stripes. One bright stripe fell over her eye. She blinked and moaned. “Will I ever be able to sleep in?” she groaned, “Not even during summer days can I stay asleep. It’s officially a curse.” Silently she slid out of bed and walked to the bathroom. She washed her face and brushed her teeth, then stood in front of the mirror and watched her reflection staring back at her. “You should invest in an eye mask, then maybe you can get some sleep,” she said to herself.
She walked over to her closet and threw the doors open, “Let’s see, what do we want to wear today?” After slipping into a pair of khaki shorts, a light blue polo shirt, and white sneakers, she returned to her bathroom mirror to examine the ensemble.
Her polo had a hawk printed on the chest. The hawk had different shades of blue feathers and a bright crimson tail. She had that same hawk print on many things, from sweatshirts to notebooks, backpacks to shoelaces, and everything in between. Her parents had even had it trademarked. The print was not the brainchild of her or her parents. It came from a necklace she had worn since before she could remember. The two inch platinum hawk, with feathers of topaz, sapphire, aquamarine, and blue diamonds and a tale of ruby and garnet, had been around her neck when her parents adopted her. As if the bird was not impressive enough, it had a belly made from a single white diamond. The diamond was cut in the shape of a double pointed obelisk and of the finest stone.
As she stared at herself in the mirror, she removed the pendant form inside her shirt and ran her fingers over it. She tilted the bird back and forth watching the light dance in the stones.
“Anibel!” her mother called, breaking the spell the hawk necklace held over her.
“Yes mom?” she answered.
“Come down dear.” Before the words were ever out of the woman’s mouth, Anibel was halfway to her door.
Anibel walked out into the hall, leapt on to the handrail, and slid smoothly down the spiral staircase. On the sixth stair from the bottom she jumped, did an aerial summersault, and landed on the first floor just inches from her mother.
“Do you have to do that every time?” Mrs. Delahooke asked glumly.
“Yes. I must keep my balance and coordination in tune.” Anibel said brightly. Her cheery attitude withered when she looked at her mother. The woman looked tired. The ever-present bags under her eyes were deeper than usual. There were no pillow lines on her cheeks and her hair was in disarray meaning she had tossed and turned all night and woken waking hours before her early bird daughter. “Mom, why couldn’t you sleep last night?” she asked, her voice full of concern.
Her mother looked up eyes wide, “How did you know I could not sleep?” Her mother looked so hurt by Anibel’s observation.
“Oh Mom, I’m sorry, it is just so obvious.” She walked over and grasped her mother’s shoulders. This was Anibel greatest show of any affection to anyone. She had never been a tender comforter. Mrs. Delahooke leaned in and hugged Anibel with her head buried in Anibel’s chest.
Anibel went completely rigid. Her mother never hugged her, mostly because she had always showed a great dislike for being touched. She almost stepped back but fought the urge in an effort not to further distress her mother. She loved her mother. Yet and still she could not hide her discomfort. Her arms remained stiff and she could not help but lean away a bit.
She heard sniffles coming from Mrs. Delahooke. “Mom what is wrong. What caused this outburst of hysteria?” she asked.
“Well dear…” she let go and stepped back, “you just constantly remind me that you’re not my child.” Another burst of tears erupted.
Anibel was shocked. Her mother had never said anything like that to her. She had always been close to her parents. Things like her adoption were not often discussed, as they were never a problem. Yet and still as the years wore on, the not so subtle differences between her and her mother were ever becoming more and more apparent. But those differences were what made them close. They offset each other perfectly, or so Anibel was led to believe. Even in her early youth, Mrs. Delahooke had always loved hugging and cuddling. She felt that if she had a birth child of her own, that child would love such things too.
For this reason, she had always found Anibel's reaction to hugs and kisses distressing. It served to remained her of the fact that Anibel was not truly her own. The girl always stiffened or shuddered or something akin when someone physically showed her love. Yet and still, Anibel was dearly beloved by Mrs. Delahooke.
“Mom, what are you talking about? Of course I’m your child! You’re my mom and nothing is going to change that.” She moved to hug her mother but stopped; there were some things she could not push herself to do. Instead she led her mother to a chair let her sit down. Anibel kneeled down beside the weeping woman. “Mom, you have to tell me what’s going on. Why am I so upsetting?” She searched her mother’s eyes, but they looked more dazed than anything. ‘Oh it’s useless,’ she thought.
She walked to the kitchen and put on a pot of water. “Mom, what kind of tea do you want?” Anibel called toward the sound of sobs. All she got in return was a mumbled, groan-like wail. She chose a black, vanilla-apricot blend, her mother’s favorite. She took two mugs from the overhead cabinet, one was a plain blue, and the other was light green with dark green vines, laced with light pink flowers. She filled both cups with tea and went back to the table. Anibel slid the green mug to her mother, “Mom, here, drink some tea. It should make you feel better.” Mrs. Delahooke looked up from the table. She seemed to study Anibel’s face, as though she were searching for something in its smooth yet pronounced features. Shaking her head she looked away and again began to cry. Not only did Anibel not react to affection like her mother, she also looked nothing like her.
“Mom, what is it?” she asked sounding very concerned. She got nothing in return for a few minutes. Finally her mother said:
“Anibel you know that you’re adopted, right?” She did not look up as she spoke. This statement puzzled Anibel. Her mother had told her she was adopted long ago.
“Yes Mom. Why?”
“Well we get letters from your birth parents every so often with wishes and wants for you. They always send money for those things, but we often don’t use it. Most of it is in a bank account for you.”
Anibel pursed her lips and arched her eyebrows. She disliked secrets, especially kept about her. “How come you never told me this?” she asked.
“Well, they stated, in the first letter, that you were not to know about the letters until you were mature enough. I knew that if you were anything like your father or me you would not be ready till the middle of high school. As in everything, you proved me dead wrong. I think you should have been told a few years ago. You grew up so much faster than I thought possible. You’re about to be a freshman and you understand more now about some things than even I do, and I have lived twice as long as you have.” Her last words came out cracked and raw. She began to cry again, “You are nothing like us, Harold nor I. How could I ever think you would act and mature just like us or any other child? You’re not like us, and you are far from being a normal teenager.” The last few words were almost inaudible because of her weeping.
"You should have told me then. Why would you keep this form me?" Anibel demanded.
By now Mrs. Delahooke’s cheeks were a deep pink and her eyes were bloodshot. She was shaking profusely and sending tiny whimpers into the quite morning. She never answered the question. Deep in her heart Mrs. Delahooke knew she had waited far to long to tell her daughter of her interesting parentage, but she also knew that Anibel would care little about the information. All her life Anibel had been her child. The girl would never seek to know more than she was told. Now that she had been told, she would want to everything and would never settler for just bits and pieces. Still Mrs. Delahooke feared to revile to Anibel her darkest secret.
They sat in near silence for what seemed like an hour. Finally Mrs. Delahooke spoke, “They want you to go to a boarding school.” her voice cracked and she burst into a new fit of tears.
Anibel sat dazed for a few seconds. “What, boarding school, why?” she asked in distress.
“They wrote...” Mrs. Delahooke stopped and wiped her eyes, “they wrote that they want you to learn to live with your own kind as well as you live with humans. You see..." she stopped. ‘No I can not tell her that.' she thought. " I’m not sure what that means but that’s what they said. The also sent the greatest sum yet to pay for it; all in a currency I have never heard of. Farins, do you know what those are?” Mrs. Delahooke asked.
“No Mom, I’ve never heard of those either,” Anibel stammered out. Her mind raced. ‘What is this boarding school, my own kind, Farins?’ All the new information coming into her mind could barely be processed because of the sadness for her mother filling it.
Mrs. Delahooke choked out another few words, “Maybe they mean highly intelligent kids. But they are human too, I do not understand.” She broke down into tears again. “Well, you do not have to go to their school," her manner improved," if you do not want to. Your father and I were also looking at another boarding school, only because it is the best in the country. It is really nice and they treat all their students like young adults entering the workforce. They don’t even offer basic classes in core subjects. We want you to be truly challenged,” she spoke very fast, trying to fit in all her words. ‘Oh Anna,’ she thought, ‘please don’t feel betrayed. No don’t look like that darling.’ Anibel’s face was hard set. Anyone who had spent any good amount of time with Anibel knew: Her face betrays her heart. The lack of expression on Anibel's face scared her mother. She sighed quietly but did not speak. “Of course dear you could go to the local public school or one of the other local private schools you got into,” she added quickly trying to rectify herself in her daughter's eyes.
Anibel’s face remained the same but her mind was far from dormant. ‘Both my sets of parents want to send me away.’ She thought sadly.
“Listen dear. I’m giving you the choice; you can go where you want to go. I will support you where ever you go.”
  spelling and grammar corrections welcome
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Through the whirlling torents, I carrie on.
Last edited by alexandrie on Thu May 21, 2009 5:15 pm; edited 16 times in total
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Smee
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| Posted: Fri Apr 24, 2009 4:22 am Post subject: |
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Haha, you need to come up with some titles - you can't have a host of threads all with apologies for titles 
It doesn't matter if it isn't the perfect title, they can always be changed afterward.
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Scheherazade
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| Posted: Fri Apr 24, 2009 7:01 am Post subject: Re: I'm Sorry I Really Suck At Titles |
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| alexandrie wrote: | | One bright stripe fell over her eye. |
Starting with a pronoun and not telling us who it refers to for several paragraphs is somewhat jarring. You could say "a <adjective> girl" or something similar instead; that would also open a spot for a physical description of the character.
Is this a DP? Can we give suggestions?
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Crunchyfrog
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| Posted: Mon Apr 27, 2009 12:50 am Post subject: |
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Hi there Alexandrie and a belated welcome to IF. 
Finally got the time to read this and I must say, the opening of this chapter was very good. There was great imagery in the beginning, the sunlight coming through the blinds, and I liked the way you showed us how Anibel's mum had not slept, and showed us that there is something unusual about Anibel through her gymnastics on the stairs and through the hawk design.
But the second half of the chapter I found a little rushed. Too much information in too little time - it would have been nice to have unravelled the mystery of the letters, the strange currency, and develop the relationship between Anibel and her mum a little more over two, possibly three chapters before hitting us with a DP as momentous as this one.
Helping us get to know the characters will help stimulate ideas for suggestions, especially if we have more reason to care about what the lead character wants.
Anyway, onto the DP - I'm not sure whether Anibel was aware something was different about herself, or whether she'd ever wondered about her parentage. Clearly she wasn't aware of the communications her mum had been receiving from her natural parents up until now.
She's been hit with a double whammy of info - her origins are not human, and it seems everyone would prefer that she goes to a boarding school. That's a bit much for the hardest of people to take, I'd expect, and the most natural reaction would be for her to dig her heels in and say 'no'. But that would mean choosing a local school for all the wrong reasons.
So for the DP I am going to suggest that she demands to see all the letters that have been sent from her natural parents, so that she might try to find out who or what she is - before she makes her decision.
And for the title: how about Origin?
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Crunchyfrog
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| Posted: Tue Apr 28, 2009 12:30 am Post subject: |
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Wooo, you renamed it! Excellent!
Origin is polling, folks!
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alexandrie
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| Posted: Tue Apr 28, 2009 2:22 pm Post subject: |
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Thank you for the title idea.
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Through the whirlling torents, I carrie on.
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| Posted: Wed Apr 29, 2009 4:23 pm Post subject: |
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Anibel was still stoic. She just stared into her mothers sparkling eyes. After a long few moments she spoke, “Can I read the letters, Mom?”
Mrs. Delahooke froze; her shivering ceased suddenly and her eyes dulled. ‘No, if I let her read them she will know I lied to her.’ Panic filled her mind, ‘but could I withhold her own self from her?’ Her mind raced with similar thoughts for several minutes.
While Mrs. Delahooke remained lost in her mind, Anibel searched her mother’s eyes. She had always been able to catch the gist of what someone was thinking by doing this. As she gazed into her mother’s eyes, her heart shattered. She saw something in her Mrs. Delahooke’s mind that she would have rather never know. In all her life she had never seen such a look in those eyes. Those eyes were always clear, always easy to read, and never, never did the hold what they held now.
Her sadness gave way to anger that soon boiled into consuming rage. Anger was not often a problem for her, but when it was, it was very bad. It was not uncommon for her to destroy vast quantities of property when consumed with such passion and she had even put people in the hospital.
“Mom! How could you lie to me!” she yelled as she jumped up from her chair and slammed her hand down on the poor table. “Why! Why! How could hiding anything about me possibly serve you?!” she went on. The combined force of Anibel’s screaming and the powerful wave of energy created by Anibel’s fist roused Mrs. Delahooke from her trance. She looked up at her daughter in awe. Pure rage, as she had never seen, filled Anibel’s eyes.
Mrs. Delahooke could not answer her daughter. She had never had reason to fear the young woman, but now she felt more than tad wary of her. The girl was rapidly spiraling into delirium, her anger had even spread to her muscles and filled then with super human strength. She had read in one of the letters in question about how her daughter’s rage could affect her. What she was seeing now was real bloodwrath at work. Bloodwrath is a reaction certain people’s bodies have to strong emotion. It can give unnatural strength, wisdom, and even supernatural powers. Anibel was obviously experiencing the added strength it could give her. This was evident by the damage done to the small table. Where Anibel’s hand had hit the table, a small ring of splinters had risen from the wood. She had even caused the teacups to fall to the floor.
She had seen her daughter’s fury flare beyond the girl’s own control before, but she had never been the target. “Calm down, dear,” she said while trying to maintain her constrains on her own emotions. Mrs. Delahooke knew that attacking the girl with her own angry words would only trigger a hotter blaze. If she was afraid now, would fear for her life come next?
Anibel was far beyond reason at this point. All the home training she had received in her fourteen years had been flung from her concise mind. In any normal situations, she would never think to raise her voice at her mother. She deeply loved her mother and trusted her wisdom in all things. Then however, she had little, if any, control over her own words and actions. Her anger was far stronger than her will. She had almost gotten herself thrown in jail a few years earlier because of one of these flare-ups. She had attacked a man three times her age and twice her size. T’is sad to say that no matter the odds, the man did not have a fighting chance. He had almost died from the snapped neck she gave him. Mrs. Delahooke’s fear was easy to understand.
“This is not something to fly to rage about. Sit down girl.” These words were Mrs. Delahooke’s feeble attempt to quell her daughter’s anger. Sadly for her, Anibel knew her mothers tricks well. Her wrath filled mind would not allow its self to be calmed by such clumsy tactics. They instead caused her to grow angrier that her mother should treat her as dull-witted child.
“Show me the letters!” she growled.
“No,” Mrs. Delahooke said. Her own bravery surprised her. She knew she could not continue to lie to Anibel, but she could also not allow her to read the letters before the time was right. She knew, however, that no weak argument would persuade Anibel from her persistence to read the correspondence of her birth parents. She also knew that completely denying Anibel access to the letters would only serve to brighten the flames of her rage and would not keep her from gaining access to them one way or another. It would take a carefully crafted argument. She did not have to grant her daughter’s request immediately but she would have to set a deadline for compliance with the request. “Right now we need to make a decision on what high school you will be attending. Then we need to make preparations and plans for your travel (if necessary) and buy you uniforms and/or other school clothes. Now is not the time to handle this. Once you have settled into school we can talk about this again.”
Deep in her mind, Mrs. Delahooke was praying her daughter would go along with her suggestion. Anibel would never forget what her mother her had said at this time and would most likely not allow her self to be persuaded against what she wanted twice, of this her mother knew well. She also knew that if Anibel did allow herself to be persuaded this time, she would not say any more about the matter until the appointed time came. If she did let it rest for now, it would give her mother more time to prepare her emotions.
Anibel’s rage began to subside. Its retreat had little, if anything, to do with her mother’s persuasions, and everything to do with the weariness beginning to replace her anger. She began to feel the fatigue her fits of passion always rendered to her. In short, she was too tired to do anything but comply with her mother. She sank back into her chair and rested her head in her hands. “Ok, Mom. I will wait.” The relief that past over Mrs. Delahooke could be seen easily in her countenance. “And,” Anibel added, “I will go to what ever high school you think best.”
_________________
Aqualunar
Through the whirlling torents, I carrie on.
Last edited by alexandrie on Wed May 20, 2009 4:18 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Chinaren
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| Posted: Thu Apr 30, 2009 5:35 am Post subject: |
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Sorry Al! I can't read this until you've done some serious spell-fixing!
I managed to get all the way to the third word before I stumbled over the first, which stopped me dead in my tracks. Scrolling down another leaped out at me as I was going for the reply button.
The two I speak of are:
| Quote: | The sun peaked through the blinds,
She walled over to her closet |
Let's do some good ol' proof-reading eh? Or get someone to go over it with you.
Fear not though! You can do it! Several of our prominent writers have been through this malady. Just ask Rai. 
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alexandrie
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| Posted: Thu Apr 30, 2009 9:06 pm Post subject: |
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My apologies for tripping you up. I will try to be even more diligent in the future  .
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Aqualunar
Through the whirlling torents, I carrie on.
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| Posted: Sat May 02, 2009 1:28 am Post subject: |
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That's the spirit!
It's better already. Now, I think you need to split the paras up a bit more. When someone starts speaking, it's best to hit a new line.
We'll whip you into shape yet! 
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alexandrie
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| Posted: Sat May 02, 2009 11:44 am Post subject: |
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| Smee wrote: | Haha, you need to come up with some titles - you can't have a host of threads all with apologies for titles
It doesn't matter if it isn't the perfect title, they can always be changed afterward. |
When I say I am bad at titles, I am dead serious. I can not even come up with a bad title until I have almost finished. This story is named after the poem I wrote for it. I envy those who can name their chapters. I will forever be the writer with just numbered chapters  . My friend named my other story.
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Through the whirlling torents, I carrie on.
Last edited by alexandrie on Mon May 11, 2009 12:36 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Crunchyfrog
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| Posted: Wed May 06, 2009 9:23 am Post subject: |
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| Aggh! I tied it. And I was wavering on going for option 1 as well.
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alexandrie
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| Posted: Mon May 11, 2009 12:35 pm Post subject: |
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someone please break this tie.
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Aqualunar
Through the whirlling torents, I carrie on.
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alexandrie
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| Posted: Mon May 11, 2009 4:44 pm Post subject: |
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This pool will run for only two days. If no one votes, I will decide myself.
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Aqualunar
Through the whirlling torents, I carrie on.
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alexandrie
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| Posted: Mon May 11, 2009 5:20 pm Post subject: |
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delete message
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Aqualunar
Through the whirlling torents, I carrie on.
Last edited by alexandrie on Wed May 20, 2009 2:44 pm; edited 1 time in total
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| Posted: Mon May 18, 2009 3:55 pm Post subject: |
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Anibel sat on her bed and stared at the painting on her wall. It was not really a painting of any thing, just colors and forms, yet the random swirls, shapes, and colors always comforted her. Today she really needed comfort. Her parents were sending her to boarding school. Boarding school! ‘Only people who did not care about their kids sent them to boarding school’ she thought. ‘How could they do this to me,’
She would not be attending just any boarding school, but the infamous Vamprats Academy. She knew nothing about it accept for what she had read on the Internet. There was only one website that had any information about the school. The short entry had been very vague. It had said that the school was very selective in its enrolment and really recruited its students more than it took applications. They sent out letters to a select few eighth graders in the world inviting them to Vamprats. There classes were on average, sixty to seventy students. Besides this rather useless information there was not much else. The site did not even have a definite location for the school. It did have a very interesting account of one child’s trip to the Academy.
Anibel remembered after reading the information, a letter that had arrived about midway through her eight-grade year. It was addressed to her from Vamprats, but at the time, the school meant nothing to her. It had been just another one of the many schools who wanted her to attend their institutions. Now it seemed to be everything. It was everything that would throw her into a depression.
The invitation had stated that she should send her acceptance a week before she planned to leave for school. She had thought that was a dumb way to do things but had sent her letter a week in advance anyway. She planed to go to leave for school a month before it started. She was always early to everything and this would be no exception. Anibel wanted to be perfectly prepared for school.
She sat on her bed for a few more moments and wallowed in her sadness. After almost beginning to cry, she stopped, closed her eyes and quelled her emotions. “I will not sulk, I will not cry. No, I will pull myself together and get through the next four years,” she said to herself. She rose from the mattress, pulled her suite case from the closet, and began to pack away the few pairs of shoes she planned to take with her. She folded and stowed perhaps forty pairs of underwear and several sets of pajamas. She did not, however, pack any real clothes; Vamprats had a uniform policy so she would not have much of a chance to wear them. After completing these tasks, she sat back on here bed. Her heart was still heavy within her. She sighed. As she stared at her painting again, she began to feel a tear welling up in her eye.
“No!” she said aloud, “I just said I would not act like this.” She sighed again, “But how do I know I should not be crying right now. What are those letters Mom is keeping hidden from me. Maybe my whole life is about to take a terrible turn.” She got up and walked over to her window. Like the picture on her wall, the sight of the gardens of her home could always calm her heart. As she looked out over her father’s flowers she thought she saw the petals of the roses and daffodils began to quiver. Anibel began to look closer. They were moving. Soon they were bending as though a powerful wind were blowing. The steams strained to hold the blossoms. She looked out over the farther parts of the gardens. Those flowers were completely stationary. “That’s odd,” she wondered, ‘But what is not odd now in days. Even the one person I depend on to be honest to me in all things has lied to me.’ Tears streaked down her face.
Something caught her eye just beyond the edge of the flowerbeds. A glimmer of black retreated into the trees that surrounded the patch of grass just outside the glass garden doors. She could not see it clearly for the tears in her eyes. Anibel wiped her face and craned her neck to try to see what it was, but the mysterious thing eluded her senses.
Then she heard her mother’s ear shattering scream. She turned toward her door and froze. Her mother cried out again. This time she sprinted for her door and out into the hallway. She did not take the time to slide down the banister as usual, but leaped over the handrail and dropped down toward the first floor.
Before she fell too far. She grabbed the bottom bar of the railing for the third story staircase and swung away from the stairs on the level below her. She planted her feet on the far hand bar and jumped off. She faced a drop of eight feet, which she spent preparing for her landing. When her feet hit the ground she immediately let her knees bend and fell into a roll. She hopped up and ran in the direction of her still screaming mother.
When she reached the highly distraught woman, Mrs. Delahooke was lying on the floor in front of the sliding glass doors that led to the back gardens. Her face was white with horror and her gaze was riveted on something on the grass. Anibel ran to her mother’s side and collapsed beside her not bothering to look at what frightened the woman. She cared far more about her mother than the thing Mrs. Delahooke was afraid of.
“Mom! Mom! What is wrong?!” she questioned. Mrs. Delahooke just continued to watch the garden.
After several seconds she crocked, “Mo… mo…monster…er.” Anibel follow her mother’s gaze.
She was met with the sight of a man in a long black cloak standing just outside the door. Underneath the cloak, he was wearing a shirt of chain mail and a pair of thick looking pants. Around his waist was a belt of leather stubbed with silver. Sticking out behind his shoulder was a sword hilt. The hilt was very ornate and looked to belong to a very large sword.
It was not the man that was truly scaring Mrs. Delahooke, even thought he was quite tall and rather exotic looking. It was the gigantic, shimmering, black dragon behind him that had thrown Anibel’s mother into hysterics. It stood erect with its neck stretched high into the sky. Its eyes were trained on the man by the door and it swung its tail as impatiently as the man knocked on the glass.
For some reason the dragon did not scare Anibel. In fact it seemed a bit commonplace to her somehow. She picked her mother up from the ground and sat her in a chair. The man knocked on the door again. She then went to the glass door and slid it open.
“Thank you,” said the man, his voice tinged with anger. He stepped into the house and stood a little awkwardly in the doorway. He turned hailed to the dragon with a wave of his hand. She had been correct about the size of his sword.
As Anibel watch, her mind desperately trying to grasp what she was seeing, the dragon began to shrink in size. It’s muscular arms and legs thinned into delicate appendages. It’s shinning scales smoothed into creamy white skin. The large teeth in its gapping mouth disappeared behind ruby red lips. Soon all that remained of the dragon was a tall slender woman in similar cloak and garb to that of her partner’s. She too carried a sword.
“Are you Anibelia Alexis Anwitz?” she asked.
“Yes,” Anibel answered, her voice strangely calm.
“Ok well we are here to pick you up and take you to school.” she said and walked to Anibel. I trust you have your things packed and have said your good byes. Go retrieve your things and come with me.” Instead of turning directly to go gather her belongings, she stared at the woman. “Please hurry, I have things to do young woman.” She said.
“I am not ready yet,” Anibel said. She felt something begin to grow inside her. It was intense desire, no, a feeling of necessity.
Anibel had never felt this way. She felt as though something was holding her anchored to the house, to her mother and to the secrets her mother was keeping from her. Sure she had said she would wait until after high school started, but how could she wait that long to find out whom she really was when the information was right at her finger tips. Anibel knew she had to read those letters, but she realized that the only way to get to them before the time agreed upon by her mother was to steal them from the master bedroom.
Her parent’s master bedroom was the only room in her house that she was not allowed to enter without permission. This rule was not to be secretive but simply to keep the privacy of the husband and wife’s room. It had never been enforced save for one instance when a young Anibel had been frightened by odd noises coming for the room on very late night. The little girl had gone inside to investigate and quickly came to the conclusion that there was a monster in the bed. She yanked to covers from the bed ran screaming from the room, leaving her parents shocked and puzzled.
‘I can’t go to high school not knowing who I am.’ She thought, ‘but what can I do.’
“I did not expect to be picked up.” Anibel stated.
“How else did you thing you would get to an undisclosed location dear,” The woman asked.
“Oh. Your right,” Anibel answered. “Is there anyway I could leave tomorrow?”
“My partner and I have nowhere to stay and we would like to be home for our respective dinners,” the woman said.
“Oh well you could stay here, we have the room. We could make you dinner. There is plenty in the pantry and I can cook what ever you like,” Anibel offered. Anibel had no real desire to have these people as guests. She did not like visitors but she knew that if she were to come up with a plan to get her letters before she had to leave, she would have to be at her own house.
“Well, I guess. Perhaps we could stay for one night, but we must leave tomorrow.” She turned to her partner as if to ask his acceptance of the plan. He nodded.
“Let me prepare your rooms then I will start dinner. Mom, could you please make our guests some tea?” Anibel addressed her mother. Without a word Mrs. Delahooke rose from her chair, still dazed by the fast proceeding of events. Anibel made her way up the stairs too the rooms her visitors would sleep in. Her mind was hard at work trying to figure out what she would do and how she would get to those letters.
_________________
Aqualunar
Through the whirlling torents, I carrie on.
Last edited by alexandrie on Sat May 30, 2009 8:00 am; edited 4 times in total
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The White Blacksmith
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| Posted: Tue May 19, 2009 12:09 pm Post subject: |
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| Quote: | | He stepped into the house and hailed too the dragon. |
Apart from the 'too' where I'm fairly sure you meant 'to', this doesn't flow well. Describe how he hailed the dragon. Did he beckon over his shoulder? Did he turn round and nod at it? You're telling rather than showing here, and it makes the story a little less absorbing.
What's the DP?
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Crunchyfrog
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| Posted: Sat May 30, 2009 1:44 am Post subject: |
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The DP is obvious to me - how to get those letters!
First up, on the technical side of things, the number of spelling errors is improved. There are still a great number to go through and correct manually, those that the spell-checker will not catch.
For example
planed - planned (the shoes she planned to take with her)
there - their (as in, Their classes were on average, sixty to seventy students.)
form - from (it was addressed to her from Vamprats)
steams - stems (the stems strained to hold the blossoms)
For the DP, how to get into the master bedroom and steal the letters from her mum. Well, her mother is already shaken enough to accept instructions from her teenage daughter to prepare tea for unexpected guests who have a large black dragon parked outside.
Even so, I don't think it would work for Anibel to think that she could just stroll right into the bedroom - that might wake her mother back into some level of normality, and could get Anibel into more trouble. Not the sort of thing she wants in front of what could be her new guardians. But she certainly has enough distractions at her disposal to make it a bit easier.
The two strangers - well, I wouldn't confide in them just yet. They may agree with her mother that there's no point in seeing the letters, and besides, they may know enough about her natural parents to think they can just tell her what she wants to know.
For someone in Anibel's position, being 'told' about her natural parents just wouldn't be good enough. Those letters would be very important to her, not just for what they contain, but because they are tangible - something she can feel and hold.
So - that leaves the dragon. Somehow she needs to find a way of making that woman shapeshift back into the dragon that will cause mayhem for everybody - giving her the perfect opportunity to go in and steal those letters.
(edited suggestion to include shapeshifting)
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alexandrie
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| Posted: Sun Jun 14, 2009 7:49 pm Post subject: |
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Ok so we have one suggestion. We can create complete mayhem with the dragon. I have an idea myself. Do you guys think it would be cool if she stole the letters during the time her mother is giving the guests tea. Tat would put everyone but her in the house in the same room. Or would that be too easy? Just a thought. 
P.S. Thank you all for your corrections. I am sure my writing still needs help.
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Aqualunar
Through the whirlling torents, I carrie on.
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Tikanni Corazon
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| Posted: Fri Nov 27, 2009 11:31 am Post subject: |
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Hi Aqua!
After chatting with you at the Inn the other day, I decided to see if you had written any SGs, and I found this. I hope that you plan to continue with it, because I thought that it was really good.
It is well written, in my opinion, and the character of Anibel, has been well thought out. Spelling and stuff like that doesn't really bother me when I'm reading, so I don't have any errors to point out to you, not to say that stuff like that isn't important. But when I'm writing at home, I just don't bother with that sort of thing myself, so I don't look out for it. So I'll leave that side to the others. 
On the whole, I enjoyed reading it, and I hope you do decide to continue with it.
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.... there is no religion without love, and people may talk as much as they like about their religion, but if it does not teach them to be good and kind to man and beast, it is all a sham....
Black Beauty by Anna Sewell, 1887
 
 
  
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alexandrie
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| Posted: Fri Nov 27, 2009 4:48 pm Post subject: |
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Thank you for reading, Tiki. You really made my day with your post. I do plan to continue but it may take a long time because I don't have much time to write now in days. I am sorry to anyone who is following my SG's for not posting in so long but it will get here (eventually).
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Through the whirlling torents, I carrie on.
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