I'm writing frenetically! I have so much to do for my novel its making my head hurt.
If you have something you'd like to see in a novel, a character (just tell me his/her appearance/characterisitics etc), a location (describe) or anything! let me know. I need some ideas desperately. ;)
So send me some ideas and I'll get back to you if I use them. You may get your name in the dedications....or something.
Anyways,
gotta run....
Monday, December 7, 2009
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
I took liberties and decided to post something my bestbestbest friend sent to me, just excerpts to see how imaginitive she is <3.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
my wall is covered with pictures and drawings and print outs and the ceiling in my room is slanted
and my desk faces the window. so i hung a whole bunch of origami swans from my slanted roof.
my window faces this beautiful oak tree which puts me to sleep every night with its creaking branches.and its stuffed with books. my carpet is red.
~~
i have tons of memories....
spilling blueberries all over the tiny kitchen floor.
watching the sun stream thru the leaves in the oak tree
watching the snow sparkle on the same tree during winter
(that tree looked like it was on fire during the autumn)
taking my sleeping bag into the attic and spending the night in there.
i love my attic.
its filled with boxes and tools
but it has a tiny little carpeted corner
(plush red carpet)
right in the back
where i used to read jane austen.
~~
when we left for nepal
i had to strip everything down from my wall....
and take away all the origami swans
and pack up all my books
and put them in boxes in my attic.......
~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`
Isn't that beautiful? And she wrote it! I love her! If you ever talk to her tell her how much I love her. (k, thanks)
Yours in sincerity,
e.e.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
my wall is covered with pictures and drawings and print outs and the ceiling in my room is slanted
and my desk faces the window. so i hung a whole bunch of origami swans from my slanted roof.
my window faces this beautiful oak tree which puts me to sleep every night with its creaking branches.and its stuffed with books. my carpet is red.
~~
i have tons of memories....
spilling blueberries all over the tiny kitchen floor.
watching the sun stream thru the leaves in the oak tree
watching the snow sparkle on the same tree during winter
(that tree looked like it was on fire during the autumn)
taking my sleeping bag into the attic and spending the night in there.
i love my attic.
its filled with boxes and tools
but it has a tiny little carpeted corner
(plush red carpet)
right in the back
where i used to read jane austen.
~~
when we left for nepal
i had to strip everything down from my wall....
and take away all the origami swans
and pack up all my books
and put them in boxes in my attic.......
~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`
Isn't that beautiful? And she wrote it! I love her! If you ever talk to her tell her how much I love her. (k, thanks)
Yours in sincerity,
e.e.
I am just not getting into the blog fever. :)
hi everyone, its emily-elisabeth....... im still alive.
The day many stars fell from the sky was the day I found her. I had taken the fastest flight to Kathmandu and stepped off the plane one day later. The layover had been somewhere in China, and it had lasted two hours.My legs wobbled unsteadily as I dragged my suit cases through the terminal. As I searched for one girl… my eyes were met with strangers.The airport was small but there were atleast three thousand people there. I stood at the gate waiting.
I tried to keep the feelings of dismay from taking over me, but its grip was slowly tightening; it had already caught me. I sat on a bench and kept my cases close to me. No one bothered me. No one stopped to ask who I was waiting for...
it was one girl.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I wrote this! My dear... I hope you read this.
Love e.e.
hi everyone, its emily-elisabeth....... im still alive.
The day many stars fell from the sky was the day I found her. I had taken the fastest flight to Kathmandu and stepped off the plane one day later. The layover had been somewhere in China, and it had lasted two hours.My legs wobbled unsteadily as I dragged my suit cases through the terminal. As I searched for one girl… my eyes were met with strangers.The airport was small but there were atleast three thousand people there. I stood at the gate waiting.
I tried to keep the feelings of dismay from taking over me, but its grip was slowly tightening; it had already caught me. I sat on a bench and kept my cases close to me. No one bothered me. No one stopped to ask who I was waiting for...
it was one girl.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I wrote this! My dear... I hope you read this.
Love e.e.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Actually...
I have a bit more time.
Haha.
So I wanted to share some goodies with you! I can't embed fancy pictures in this blog.... but I will link, and you will follow (haha, that was a joke).
Scroll on...
keep scrolling
now....
http://www.lymbycsystym.com/
I really like this band because its instrumental. and new agey. and nice.
I also like the band This Will Destroy You. It sounds liek a sad band but it has this AMAZING song. It's called Freedom Blade. Here is a link.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p9wGoPPHtxk
Listen all the way through. Relax. Dream a little. Float around your room. :)
This movie: Howl's Moving Castle.... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=57r9jjqzJJk
I want to see it very badly.
Nowwwwwwwwwwwwww I have to go!
See you all later!
e.e.
Haha.
So I wanted to share some goodies with you! I can't embed fancy pictures in this blog.... but I will link, and you will follow (haha, that was a joke).
Scroll on...
keep scrolling
now....
http://www.lymbycsystym.com/
I really like this band because its instrumental. and new agey. and nice.
I also like the band This Will Destroy You. It sounds liek a sad band but it has this AMAZING song. It's called Freedom Blade. Here is a link.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p9wGoPPHtxk
Listen all the way through. Relax. Dream a little. Float around your room. :)
This movie: Howl's Moving Castle.... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=57r9jjqzJJk
I want to see it very badly.
Nowwwwwwwwwwwwww I have to go!
See you all later!
e.e.
:)
But before I go......
- You readers are lovely,
- I encourage you to start a blog if you havent already, and
- God bless. I love you all!
Emily Elisabeth
My dear friends. Here I sit, posting this for the benefit of those who will reach this blog by means of a web design project I am doing.
And I'm happy. I'm content. I'm just ... me. It's nice that way, too.
So, those of you who shall see this for the web design, "Hello! This is my humble blog!"
Anyone else.... eh, I don't feel like thinking of another greeting. :o)
So upcoming entries I am interested in posting will ahve to do with homeschool: its benefits...and its disadvantages. I will talk about my personall experiences with homeschool, and maybe there will be some interviews. ;o) We'll see.
Ok. I think I should go!
Peace to you,
Emily
And I'm happy. I'm content. I'm just ... me. It's nice that way, too.
So, those of you who shall see this for the web design, "Hello! This is my humble blog!"
Anyone else.... eh, I don't feel like thinking of another greeting. :o)
So upcoming entries I am interested in posting will ahve to do with homeschool: its benefits...and its disadvantages. I will talk about my personall experiences with homeschool, and maybe there will be some interviews. ;o) We'll see.
Ok. I think I should go!
Peace to you,
Emily
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
http://www.flickr.com/photos/_elsiecakes/
These are my photos... Hope you like them! They are lovely examples of God's grace in my life. I love my camera! Its broken but it works so very lovely.
Hope you are encouraged to take pictures of the wonders in God's world...
If this note is on face book, its because I connected my blog with face book so it imports my entries, but it takes a while to process and actually show up on face book.
These are my photos... Hope you like them! They are lovely examples of God's grace in my life. I love my camera! Its broken but it works so very lovely.
Hope you are encouraged to take pictures of the wonders in God's world...
If this note is on face book, its because I connected my blog with face book so it imports my entries, but it takes a while to process and actually show up on face book.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yL6-bf13YwA
This...is... absolutely breathtaking.
It has been my dream all my life....(well since I knew...)
That I want a Medieval wedding. :) It sounds impossible, but I have big dreams to make it the culmination of my endeavor of purity. Here are some pictures of dresses and decoration.
http://labelle-epoque.co.uk/images/IMG_0321.JPG (Couple)
http://www.katrinamariedesigns.com/WG368Karmisha2JM.jpg (The dress I love)
http://www.fairytaleweddingshop.com/ ( a helpful site)
I desire to read thy thoughts on this matter. What dost thou think?
This...is... absolutely breathtaking.
It has been my dream all my life....(well since I knew...)
That I want a Medieval wedding. :) It sounds impossible, but I have big dreams to make it the culmination of my endeavor of purity. Here are some pictures of dresses and decoration.
http://labelle-epoque.co.uk/images/IMG_0321.JPG (Couple)
http://www.katrinamariedesigns.com/WG368Karmisha2JM.jpg (The dress I love)
http://www.fairytaleweddingshop.com/ ( a helpful site)
I desire to read thy thoughts on this matter. What dost thou think?
Monday, July 27, 2009
OH Hallo
Hey girls, guys, creatures...
This is Emily... Emily...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4OwczjuRsW8
Snow Patrol, The Planets Bent Between Us
http://userserve-ak.last.fm/serve/_/63460/Gary+Lightbody.jpg
I think he's very handsome.
The lead singer worked with Save the Children (a UK foundation)
http://www.savethechildren.org.uk/assets/images/gary-lightbody.jpg
Gary Lightbody said: "We were invited to come here by Save the Children and Oxfam Ireland to learn more about the everyday situation for people in Uganda. We have been inspired by the people we have met, those working to bring about change despite extraordinary hardship."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A small essay i wrote:
My name is Elspeth Finley. In the past, I was a particularly social woman, and my guests were awfully famous persons, who came to sit in my parlor (it’s really quite lovely, the parlor) and have strong English tea.
But certain, most worrisome events led me to somewhat logical conclusions. That I was, and still am, in terrible danger. Those certain events included receiving a letter from somewhere in Russia, with no return address, only the initials, “S.T.” written in cursive on the back. The letter was as follows:
Dear Miss Finley
This unfortunate letter is to inform you that you are in terrible danger. I loathe being the bearer of this fearsome news but I could not stay my pen to warn you. I was not supposed to tell you.
Until we send a guardian to board in a room within your home (a room that you may or may not want to offer to your potential guardian) please stay safe and secure in your home. You will be reimbursed for any deliveries made to your home (e.g. groceries, and sundry items). I do hope and pray that I have not frightened you too much. I’d rather not deal with such matters.
Yours respectfully,
S.T.
You can imagine my confusion and fear at receiving this letter. This was one of the first events that would take place. After I received the letter from this “S.T.” I immediately went to the grocers, the library, and every other store where I regularly shopped, and had all my future orders arranged so that they’d be sent to my door directly. I even had all the deliverymen’s personal history files to review, just in case.
And so, I began my life as a solitary. I was distraught when I had to turn my guests queries away, and tell them it was merely a personal choice. This was not a reliable argument, for how many socialites convert to solitary confinement?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I can finally see that you're right there beside me.
I am not my own, for I have been made new.
Please don't let me go, I desperately need you.
I am not my own, for I have been made new.
Please don't let me go, I desperately need you.
Meteor Shower
Owl City
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A short "story"
It reminds me of a day in my past when I began to dream under an azure, star-speckled sky. The moon was a thin crescent, and I was a tired woman in need of rest. I was heavy with child. I was scared. The man tending the goats in the field was a comfort in the way he was soft voiced and telling me that it was all right. My husband had been slain under unmerciful hands, and Hafren was forgiving of my angry tears. When I calmed, he gave me food and drink.
He told me he wanted to father my child. Hafren’s serious eyes were sincere as he told me what my husband had said. “Guard her in the event of my death. Take her as your own. Take her children, take her… as yours.” Hafren told me everything. I began weeping. For how often do you lose one love, yet gain another?
A bit of Virgina Woolf's writing, an essay called "A Lead Pencil"
In these minutes in which a ghost has been sought for, a quarrel composed, and a pencil bought, the streets had become completely empty. Life had withdrawn to the top floor, and lamps were lit. The pavement was dry and hard; the road was of hammered silver. Walking home through the desolation one could tell oneself the story of the dwarf, of the blind men, of the party in the Mayfair mansion, of the quarrel in the stationer’s shop.
Into each of these lives one could penetrate a little way, far enough to give oneself the illusion that one is not tethered to a single mind, but can put on briefly for a few minutes the bodies and minds of others. One could become a washerwoman, a publican, a street singer. And what greater delight and wonder can there be than to leave the straight lines of personality and deviate into those footpaths that lead beneath brambles and thick tree trunks into the heart of the forest where live those wild beasts, our fellow men?
That is true: to escape is the greatest of pleasures; street haunting in winter the greatest of adventures. Still as we approach our own doorstep again, it is comforting to feel the old possessions, the old prejudices, fold us round; and the self, which has been blown about at so many street corners, which has battered like a moth at the flame of so many inaccessible lanterns, sheltered and enclosed.
Here again is the usual door; here the chair turned as we left it and the china bowl and the brown ring on the carpet. And here—let us examine it tenderly, let us touch it with reverence—is the only spoil we have retrieved from all the treasures of the city, a lead pencil.
This is Emily... Emily...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4OwczjuRsW8
Snow Patrol, The Planets Bent Between Us
http://userserve-ak.last.fm/serve/_/63460/Gary+Lightbody.jpg
I think he's very handsome.
The lead singer worked with Save the Children (a UK foundation)
http://www.savethechildren.org.uk/assets/images/gary-lightbody.jpg
Gary Lightbody said: "We were invited to come here by Save the Children and Oxfam Ireland to learn more about the everyday situation for people in Uganda. We have been inspired by the people we have met, those working to bring about change despite extraordinary hardship."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A small essay i wrote:
My name is Elspeth Finley. In the past, I was a particularly social woman, and my guests were awfully famous persons, who came to sit in my parlor (it’s really quite lovely, the parlor) and have strong English tea.
But certain, most worrisome events led me to somewhat logical conclusions. That I was, and still am, in terrible danger. Those certain events included receiving a letter from somewhere in Russia, with no return address, only the initials, “S.T.” written in cursive on the back. The letter was as follows:
Dear Miss Finley
This unfortunate letter is to inform you that you are in terrible danger. I loathe being the bearer of this fearsome news but I could not stay my pen to warn you. I was not supposed to tell you.
Until we send a guardian to board in a room within your home (a room that you may or may not want to offer to your potential guardian) please stay safe and secure in your home. You will be reimbursed for any deliveries made to your home (e.g. groceries, and sundry items). I do hope and pray that I have not frightened you too much. I’d rather not deal with such matters.
Yours respectfully,
S.T.
You can imagine my confusion and fear at receiving this letter. This was one of the first events that would take place. After I received the letter from this “S.T.” I immediately went to the grocers, the library, and every other store where I regularly shopped, and had all my future orders arranged so that they’d be sent to my door directly. I even had all the deliverymen’s personal history files to review, just in case.
And so, I began my life as a solitary. I was distraught when I had to turn my guests queries away, and tell them it was merely a personal choice. This was not a reliable argument, for how many socialites convert to solitary confinement?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I can finally see that you're right there beside me.
I am not my own, for I have been made new.
Please don't let me go, I desperately need you.
I am not my own, for I have been made new.
Please don't let me go, I desperately need you.
Meteor Shower
Owl City
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A short "story"
It reminds me of a day in my past when I began to dream under an azure, star-speckled sky. The moon was a thin crescent, and I was a tired woman in need of rest. I was heavy with child. I was scared. The man tending the goats in the field was a comfort in the way he was soft voiced and telling me that it was all right. My husband had been slain under unmerciful hands, and Hafren was forgiving of my angry tears. When I calmed, he gave me food and drink.
He told me he wanted to father my child. Hafren’s serious eyes were sincere as he told me what my husband had said. “Guard her in the event of my death. Take her as your own. Take her children, take her… as yours.” Hafren told me everything. I began weeping. For how often do you lose one love, yet gain another?
A bit of Virgina Woolf's writing, an essay called "A Lead Pencil"
In these minutes in which a ghost has been sought for, a quarrel composed, and a pencil bought, the streets had become completely empty. Life had withdrawn to the top floor, and lamps were lit. The pavement was dry and hard; the road was of hammered silver. Walking home through the desolation one could tell oneself the story of the dwarf, of the blind men, of the party in the Mayfair mansion, of the quarrel in the stationer’s shop.
Into each of these lives one could penetrate a little way, far enough to give oneself the illusion that one is not tethered to a single mind, but can put on briefly for a few minutes the bodies and minds of others. One could become a washerwoman, a publican, a street singer. And what greater delight and wonder can there be than to leave the straight lines of personality and deviate into those footpaths that lead beneath brambles and thick tree trunks into the heart of the forest where live those wild beasts, our fellow men?
That is true: to escape is the greatest of pleasures; street haunting in winter the greatest of adventures. Still as we approach our own doorstep again, it is comforting to feel the old possessions, the old prejudices, fold us round; and the self, which has been blown about at so many street corners, which has battered like a moth at the flame of so many inaccessible lanterns, sheltered and enclosed.
Here again is the usual door; here the chair turned as we left it and the china bowl and the brown ring on the carpet. And here—let us examine it tenderly, let us touch it with reverence—is the only spoil we have retrieved from all the treasures of the city, a lead pencil.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
oh hai! v.2
hallo. i got interrupted sharing the goodies.
heres summat you will like.
this is a great song, but the music video doesn't make perfect sense. i think its very appealing.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E7fzUGR8ZH4
this girl is my contact on flickrrrrrrr. she is miss courtneyjade.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/courtneyjade/3588683132/
its a stop animation film. ;)
okayyyy. this band i got a free download from starbucks. the Airborne Toxic Event. I have not listened to them YET, since my iTunes is being ... retarded ...
http://ligger.files.wordpress.com/2009/04/tate.jpg
they look very dif, but great!
andddd, my favorite non-christian, non normal band: Coldplay. I'm getting their CD Prospekt's March EP.
http://popsecret.files.wordpress.com/2009/04/coldplay.jpg
Wow. this was a surprise: http://www.washingtonexaminer.com/opinion/blogs/beltway-confidential/Palins-resignation-49929397.html
Another flickr contact, Katherine Elizabeth. BEAUTIFUL PHOTOS. She has such a magical touch. Please go visit her stream and view all of her magical photos. Not only is she beautiful in face and mood, she is beautiful in soul, and thats just looking at her through a screen.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/katieelizabethphotography/3632794933/ This one is my favorite so far. She's so ethereal looking. If you eve comment on her photos, tell her "emily loves you" sent you. ;)
Ah so creative. Now for some yummy-ness.
http://www.godiva.com/catalog/product.aspx?id=1347&SE_Section=Shop&SE_Category=29
Craving. http://www.jambajuice.com/#/smoothies/
My favorite fruit, not so favorite topping, but yummy.
http://fashiontribes.typepad.com/main/images/chocolate_fondue_set.jpg
http://dandeliondiadem.files.wordpress.com/2009/06/wild_blackberries.jpg
delish!
some portraits and places i love...
http://www.flickr.com/photos/ya7obeelk/2144059513/
heres summat you will like.
this is a great song, but the music video doesn't make perfect sense. i think its very appealing.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E7fzUGR8ZH4
this girl is my contact on flickrrrrrrr. she is miss courtneyjade.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/courtneyjade/3588683132/
its a stop animation film. ;)
okayyyy. this band i got a free download from starbucks. the Airborne Toxic Event. I have not listened to them YET, since my iTunes is being ... retarded ...
http://ligger.files.wordpress.com/2009/04/tate.jpg
they look very dif, but great!
andddd, my favorite non-christian, non normal band: Coldplay. I'm getting their CD Prospekt's March EP.
http://popsecret.files.wordpress.com/2009/04/coldplay.jpg
Wow. this was a surprise: http://www.washingtonexaminer.com/opinion/blogs/beltway-confidential/Palins-resignation-49929397.html
Another flickr contact, Katherine Elizabeth. BEAUTIFUL PHOTOS. She has such a magical touch. Please go visit her stream and view all of her magical photos. Not only is she beautiful in face and mood, she is beautiful in soul, and thats just looking at her through a screen.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/katieelizabethphotography/3632794933/ This one is my favorite so far. She's so ethereal looking. If you eve comment on her photos, tell her "emily loves you" sent you. ;)
Ah so creative. Now for some yummy-ness.
http://www.godiva.com/catalog/product.aspx?id=1347&SE_Section=Shop&SE_Category=29
Craving. http://www.jambajuice.com/#/smoothies/
My favorite fruit, not so favorite topping, but yummy.
http://fashiontribes.typepad.com/main/images/chocolate_fondue_set.jpg
http://dandeliondiadem.files.wordpress.com/2009/06/wild_blackberries.jpg
delish!
some portraits and places i love...
http://www.flickr.com/photos/ya7obeelk/2144059513/
Oh hai!
Heyllo!
Yolla!
This is Em! I'm posting whilst some of the kids are at the parade, some are watching an old movie upstairs.
Somehow i brought celery stalks down here. seriously, they are right by the keyboard, leering at me. haha.
So Tom has fallen off a roof, broken both heels, chipped some teeth, and is alive, if not worse for the wear. WHEW, whatta sentence. I'm thinking I am going to go visit him. (hinthint) I also have a gift for him to enjoy while he sits around recovering from something he will never do again (not while i am alive). *waits for a smattering of laughter*
I am good. I finished 24 ish photoshopped pictures for FB. they look nice. I'm the main subject+others. ;) Haha they were really fun. i did them to try and figure out Elements 5.0...and i still have not.
Art journals........two in process, two more getting ready to start. In order of ordering them, they are
1,2- Jon Barnes
3- Hannah Swearman
4- Tom Belliveau
Boy am I busy these days, I haven't had the chance to paint because of the trip we took to Oklahoma! :( And yet i sat and relaxed the days after we got back, doing NOTHING. *hits self over head with paperback*
I hope I can get this all done, and buy the D40! o-m-w. I am so happy I chose one and settled on it.
That celery looks really good.
Quick! Goodies! Here they are!
http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x7pntn_sara-bareilles-ingrid-michaelson-wi_music
^^^ beautiful, and this one.....
this is mario brothers theme with an rc car and bottles. wierd. i know, but watch....
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g8xlYJ0_cDU
on piano, mario brothers ( long)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SXgZhPjMQLQ
the secret is a lovely movie. its has a duet
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aW1WFc6efAc
Yolla!
This is Em! I'm posting whilst some of the kids are at the parade, some are watching an old movie upstairs.
Somehow i brought celery stalks down here. seriously, they are right by the keyboard, leering at me. haha.
So Tom has fallen off a roof, broken both heels, chipped some teeth, and is alive, if not worse for the wear. WHEW, whatta sentence. I'm thinking I am going to go visit him. (hinthint) I also have a gift for him to enjoy while he sits around recovering from something he will never do again (not while i am alive). *waits for a smattering of laughter*
I am good. I finished 24 ish photoshopped pictures for FB. they look nice. I'm the main subject+others. ;) Haha they were really fun. i did them to try and figure out Elements 5.0...and i still have not.
Art journals........two in process, two more getting ready to start. In order of ordering them, they are
1,2- Jon Barnes
3- Hannah Swearman
4- Tom Belliveau
Boy am I busy these days, I haven't had the chance to paint because of the trip we took to Oklahoma! :( And yet i sat and relaxed the days after we got back, doing NOTHING. *hits self over head with paperback*
I hope I can get this all done, and buy the D40! o-m-w. I am so happy I chose one and settled on it.
That celery looks really good.
Quick! Goodies! Here they are!
http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x7pntn_sara-bareilles-ingrid-michaelson-wi_music
^^^ beautiful, and this one.....
this is mario brothers theme with an rc car and bottles. wierd. i know, but watch....
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g8xlYJ0_cDU
on piano, mario brothers ( long)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SXgZhPjMQLQ
the secret is a lovely movie. its has a duet
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aW1WFc6efAc
Monday, June 22, 2009
So
i'm sitting here wodnering about the day. im still very tired, the mattress on my bed is foam, so my back is shot for now. ;) it doesnt feel too good. so far has been nice.
My grandmother is not being nice to the CNA's that come take care of my grandad....Let me just expound a little. She called one fat to her face, then was muttering about how the other wasn't very efficient. My grandmother also made a comment that seemed okay, but was severely demeaning: she emphasized that the choir director at her church was "WHITE" to one CNA, who was, obviously, black.
I don't know.
When my uncle was here (he left last night to TX), we were all discussing her behavior.....it was sorta funny, sorta sad. Like talking behind her back. My grandmother is just a quirky person. It's hard to function around her without going crazy. She constantly nags you about everything you do. EVERYTHING.
Just pray that I will be able to stay sane. ;)
Now here are some goodies.........
Ack this computer wont let me paste.....
My grandmother is not being nice to the CNA's that come take care of my grandad....Let me just expound a little. She called one fat to her face, then was muttering about how the other wasn't very efficient. My grandmother also made a comment that seemed okay, but was severely demeaning: she emphasized that the choir director at her church was "WHITE" to one CNA, who was, obviously, black.
I don't know.
When my uncle was here (he left last night to TX), we were all discussing her behavior.....it was sorta funny, sorta sad. Like talking behind her back. My grandmother is just a quirky person. It's hard to function around her without going crazy. She constantly nags you about everything you do. EVERYTHING.
Just pray that I will be able to stay sane. ;)
Now here are some goodies.........
Ack this computer wont let me paste.....
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Father's Day
I guess you all know what today is. Yep: Father's Day. Last night at the store, perusing the card shelves amongst many other people there the NIGHT BEFORE Father's Day, I tried to find the perfect card.
Dad and Uncle Brent were already waiting for me. I had gone to walmart to get some stuff, and got to go with my dad and uncle mentioned above. ahah. That was my mistake for they were cracking secret jokes the whole way there. I swear, when certain men get together they just goof off. I mean, GROW UP. ;)
So anyways. I like being alone in the store all by myself. I could get some quiet time. And buy stuff they might question. LOL. ;)
Nice times.
Todays hot. I really like Calabria by Enur. ^_^ I mean COME ON. HOW CAN YOU NOT DANCE TO THAT SONG? ITS REALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLY INFECTIOUS. :)
Anywho. Church was good. Nice sermon. Nice foundation. Nice hot cocoa.
Loves from Bixby.
Emmy
Dad and Uncle Brent were already waiting for me. I had gone to walmart to get some stuff, and got to go with my dad and uncle mentioned above. ahah. That was my mistake for they were cracking secret jokes the whole way there. I swear, when certain men get together they just goof off. I mean, GROW UP. ;)
So anyways. I like being alone in the store all by myself. I could get some quiet time. And buy stuff they might question. LOL. ;)
Nice times.
Todays hot. I really like Calabria by Enur. ^_^ I mean COME ON. HOW CAN YOU NOT DANCE TO THAT SONG? ITS REALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLY INFECTIOUS. :)
Anywho. Church was good. Nice sermon. Nice foundation. Nice hot cocoa.
Loves from Bixby.
Emmy
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Well. We made it. I am in Oklahoma. Theres a Starbucks within walking distance. I'm pretty happy.
Besides being tired. Which is okay. I'm listening to Sigur Ros. Oh my word i love Sigur Ros. I love Kjartan ... yatahhhhh. I love typing. I love my uncle Brent and my uncle Kurt. I love air conditioning.
We had no AC all the way out to Oklahoma. It was prettymiserable. Yes, all one word.
Im so tired. The bed was squashy.
Im writing. Im palying the piano. Grandma is bugging me about jobs and driving. Sam made a dent in the wall. We all harbor secrets against my grandmother.......?!@?!?!?!
HHA. We are all talking behind her back its a little strange. hahhh.
So anywho, been resting.
Besides being tired. Which is okay. I'm listening to Sigur Ros. Oh my word i love Sigur Ros. I love Kjartan ... yatahhhhh. I love typing. I love my uncle Brent and my uncle Kurt. I love air conditioning.
We had no AC all the way out to Oklahoma. It was prettymiserable. Yes, all one word.
Im so tired. The bed was squashy.
Im writing. Im palying the piano. Grandma is bugging me about jobs and driving. Sam made a dent in the wall. We all harbor secrets against my grandmother.......?!@?!?!?!
HHA. We are all talking behind her back its a little strange. hahhh.
So anywho, been resting.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
And old version of my story. ;)
no indentation, poor grammar. sappy. i havent even got to the part about when Fiador was a sentimental, maudlin man.
apologies.
you'll never see him that way.
i'll. uhm. never post that here.
Chapter The First
“Elsie? Elsie! Elisabeth Olivia Ingersoll, please come down for breakfast!!” Elsie’s father called. Oh, brother. I’m in for it! She opened her eyes, and saw that her sister Isabella’s bed was empty. How did she always manage to wake up before her? Especially since she spent most nights talking until Father comes in, robe hastily tied, to discipline us for staying up too late “Coming, Father….”
She yawned and pulled the patchwork coverlet around her. The morning was icy cold and Elsie didn’t want to get out of bed. At least, not until Father lit the fire. But, today was Monday and she had to go watch the Rosemont girls. The Rosemont’s were the Governor’s family.
Elsie often watched eight of their twelve girls. Looking outside, she almost reconsidered. All our trees were swaying violently with the wind and a constant draft from the window behind her told her it was cold. Icy cold. But, although the weather was cold and blustery, the sun was still shining.
And today was the day that Governor and Mrs. Rosemont had to attend the social gathering in Boston that a governor and his wife have to be present at. And you don’t want to leave twelve girls alone all day! She knew, as she was a female that girls bicker over anything. But those girls, on the other hand, were also charming young ladies that she enjoyed being with. Elsie admitted she shouldn’t have come to hasty conclusions. Looking outside, seeing the day in a new way, she felt blessed to be alive. She just had to share her thoughts with God. After praying, she felt a lot better. Elsie burrowed under her quilt, hoping for five more minutes.
But, the loft-stairs creaked, and suddenly her door opened. “Father asked you to come down, sister…And that means come down!” said Daniel, her 18 year-old brother. Elsie, surprised, sat up swiftly, banging her elbow on the wall. “Daniel…. Why is it always me? Why do you always choose to scare me, trip me, push ME?” she moaned, and rubbed her aching elbow. Daniel laughed quietly. “Father always says ‘It’s always your reaction to mischief that satisfies the mischief-maker.’ You are the prime example for that circumstance,” he said. Elsie was seething inside, but calmly steered Daniel out of the room and shut the door. Once she was alone, she undressed from her nightshift, and walked to her dresser. After some serious consideration, she pulled out a petticoat embroidered with sky blue flowers and her cornflower blue dress. She put them on and pulled on her stockings and shoes. Then, Elsie scrambled down the stairs and sat down at the table. Ten-year-old James and seven-year-old Isabella looked at her. “Sorry Father, she had a bit of trouble getting down to breakfast. Daniel had to bother me,” she said, still feeling the dull pain that seemed to flare up every time she saw Daniel. Then, Elsie had the most devilish idea for revenge. “Wait,” she said. “Did we wash our hands?” Everybody (even Father) groaned. They all hated to wash up at the outside pump. This time of year, the water was freezing cold and made their hands red and numb. But, she’d been put in charge of making sure they all washed up. Unfortunately, revenge, this time, included her.
So they all trooped out to the pump and, one by one, they turned on the pump and quickly scrubbed their hands with soap that Basil made. Elspeth Tanner-Basil is a freed black woman that lived in a hut on their land. More specifically, she was their sharecropper. She provided soap, medicine, and herbs for their family in exchange for living down in the everglade on our property.
"Elsie... I HATE washing my hands in the winter..." Isabella whined. Daniel interjected with a rolling of the eyes. "We all know she wanted revenge on me."
"I did not!"
"Did too,"
"No, I didn't."
"YES, YOU DID..." This said with a quiet smile, and a look of satisfaction. I stuck my tongue out.
After they finished, they all walked back in, warming our stinging hands in pockets of trousers and aprons. When they were inside, they all sat down again and relaxed while Father served us breakfast. Father set down a bowl of oatmeal in front of her. Elsie was about to lift her spoon to her lips, when Father cleared his throat. “Sorry!” she said, and folded her hands. Father closed his eyes, bowed his head, and began to pray:
Our Father,
Who reigneth over us in heaven, thank you for this meal.
Give us strength to do our work, and patience to deal with our siblings.
In Jesus’ name,
Amen
Then Elsie dug in, and ate with relish. Now, this was good. If she knew Father he had a sweet tooth and has always bought brown sugar from Carter’s to go with it; and every morning they had warm, fresh cream from Betsy, their Guernsey cow. But if they wanted cold milk, they'd have to trek down to the riverbed cellar where their milk chills. During the summer at least. Speaking of Betsy, Elsie thought she would go down to the barn to see if Betsy dropped her calf.
The barn was the best smelling place in the world. The mixture of meadow hay, grain, leather, horse sweat and manure (yes, you heard it right) make up the smell of the Ingersoll’s barn. And it’s always warm in there, even then, in that frosty November. Elsie walked over to Betsy’s stall and saw a russet colored calf, wobbling around, still damp from birth. “ Oh, you are so adorable!!! Let’s see you are. A boy?” Well, she thought, “Henry will have to do,” she said. Elsie placed a large armful of hay in the manger for Betsy. The mottled old cow lumbered over and sunk her head into the hay, beginning to chew ponderously. Elsie bid the sweet animal farewell, and then went over to the box stalls for their horses. The first stall held Van Irish, her Father’s cream stallion, calm as a summer breeze. Father found him as a foal, and has nurtured him into a pleasant steed. He shows him at the fair every year.
Well, except this year, because Van Irish had a twisted joint. Poor thing. Elsie inspected his hocks, and then unwrapped the bandage covering the swelled leg. The redness had faded, and the swelling had definitely gone down. “Good boy, Irish.” she said, scratching his cheek. He nuzzled her, breathing his carroty breath on her.
The next stall held Don Miguel, her brother’s pinto gelding. He tried to nip her as she passed, being a bad-natured horse from birth. Elsie pushed his head away. “Miguel, you are the most pig-headed horse I’ve ever set my eyes upon.” she said, and walked on. The next two stalls held Courage and Brevity, their Shires. They pull the plow and the wagon. Elsie rubbed Brevity’s nose and scratched her cheek. Courage thrust his head out and nosed her. “Alright, Courage, I see you” she said as she batted his ear.
Elsie then stopped in front of her mother’s old mare, Meadowlark. She fingered the necklace Mother had given her on her sixth birthday, just days before she died. Her dear mother had fallen from Lark’s back, trying to ride home during a storm. Elsie’s father, worried, rode off to look for her and found her lifeless, neck broken.
Now, Elsie’s father was courting a gorgeous but unpleasant lady named Irene Thoreau who didn’t like children. She told James that his shirt was wrinkled. Isabella burst into tears after being criticized about her scuffed up shoes. Elsie was told to act more like a lady. Daniel was lectured about his beau, Catherine Rosemont. Elsie did loathe Irene. Very much indeed. Well enough about Miss Sent Down From Heaven, Miss Prim, and Miss Proper. Ah, there she went again, calling her names. What was it with Irene?
Elsie patted Lark, gave her a goodbye kiss, and then arrived at the stall of her horse, her mare, Dearheart Moon. She was an Appaloosa, gray with marbled white speckles all over her. She also had unusual blue eyes. Elsie kissed her velvety nose and fondled her ears. Dearheart nuzzled her cheek, drooling affectionately.
Elsie dutifully gave her a measure of grain so she could eat. She also fed the other horses and rubbed Lark’s ears again. Then she leaned against the stall and sighed. The sounds of satisfied crunching filled the barn. This was paradise. “Elsie? Where are you?” Father called. “Ah, she sees Betsy had her calf. Male, good build, very nice color.” she came up to him. “He’s a Henry,” she said shortly, patting Betsy on her soft head. She moved closer so she could scratch her ears. Father nodded “Henry is a good name.” He murmured, and hugged her. “ How’s her fifteen-year-old daughter? Every time she sees you, you’re with the horses. You aren’t going to grow out of this, are you?” she shook her head. He laughed “Come on, let’s go back up to the house,” he said.
When they crossed the threshold, Daniel pushed past us. “Got to go, Catherine’s waiting!!” he yelled. She laughed. “Whatever manners he has, he’s forgotten them!” Father said. “Speaking of someone waiting, you’ve got to watch the Rosemont brood!!” he exclaimed. Elsie gasped. “Oh, no! Mrs. Rosemont isn’t going to be very pleased when I arrive late!! I’m going to get ready. Be right back!!” she ran upstairs and grabbed her leather satchel containing her sketchbook, pencils, erasers, and other assorted drawing utensils. When she heard Irene talking to Father, she sighed crossly and quickly ran a brush over her hair. Hearing her laugh at Father made her again touch her necklace from Mother. Elsie missed her. “There, all set!!” she sighed and sprinted quietly downstairs. Irene was making those eyes at him. “Those children of yours are quite…charming, Joseph. Naomi gave you quite a responsibility, going off and dying like that.” She purred and squeezed his arm. Elsie gave a stifled gasp. Father hated mentioning Mama. Let alone in a negative way. But, Father calmly kissed Irene’s ‘pale as ice’ cheek and led her to the kitchen. She rolled her eyes and ran out to the barn she quickly saddled Dearheart. She leapt on to her and cantered out of the barn. We would take the shortcut to save time. She steered her towards the side road and they cantered lightly along. Before long, she saw the Halfway Tree, as she called it looming up ahead. It was an immense pine, sweetly scented, and densely branched. She rode past it and looked ahead, searching for potholes and ditches. None apparent.
Soon she came to Rosemont Manor, a large mansion that the governor owned. The mannerly Rosemont brood composed of twelve charming girls: Arabella, Blair, Catherine, Deborah, Edeline, Felicity, Genevieve, Heather, Ivy, Jessica, Kathleen, and the smallest, Liberty, who was six months old today. What a responsibility. She doesn’t think she’d ever be able to handle twelve girls!
She opened the door, expecting a flood of Rosemont’s to come out. Instead two girls; they thanked her as they walked out, dressed for town. They were Catherine and Deborah. They were off to meet their beaux, which is French for courtiers, or men who come courting. In this case, the girls were going to the men. She herded the girls to the living room where Mrs. Luna Bella Rosemont was chatting with her bosom-friend, Stella-Marie Tidings, who had six boys. Overwhelming. She bade Mrs. Rosemont and Liberty (who was going with her parents) and Mrs. Tiding’s goodbye and ushered her to the door. She and her husband, Governor Sebastian Rosemont went off to their ball, or whatever they were going to. “Have fun, Mrs. Rosemont!” she called as they got in the horse-drawn carriage and rattled down the drive.
Elsie quietly closed the door. Jessica immediately jumped at her leg, while Kathleen and Ilyanna tugged at her arms. “We got a dog, Elsie and she’s pretty!!” Ivy said. Katy and Jessie nodded cheerfully. “Come see, come see!” Gisela said, and Heather led her down the hall to the kitchen. Edeline and Felicity were in the kitchen caring for the dog.
The dog was a shepherd mix; she guessed and came about to her upper thigh when it stood, hackles raised, but wagging its tail slowly as if to say, ‘I’m ready to bite if you’re bad, or she’ll lick you all over if you’re good’. She held out her hand and let the dog breathe in her scent. It woofed quietly and licked her fingers happily. “It’s a she! Her name’s Little Moon, because they found her under the full moon ” said Edeline, who was her age and was the one she could open her heart to, and tell her secrets. Like the one about her…. well… it’s a secret, so she shouldn’t tell. Felicity came up to her and said, “ Her paw is hurt, would you look at it?” she nodded and asked her to pick up Little Moon’s paw. She examined it and found a thorn, deeply embedded in her paw. Moon whined and nipped her hand, trying to make her drop her paw. She drew in her breath sharply as her teeth scraped across her hand. “She need someone to hold her head so she won’t bite her.” Edeline smiled and held Moon’s head away from her. She grabbed the thorn and pulled. Moon yelped and struggled against Edeline’s firm hold around her head. She eased the thorn slowly out of Moon’s paw. Moon whined as she held it up for the girls to see. They all stepped back and grimaced. Edeline patted Moon on the head lovingly. Moon licked her face and started to pant happily. Elsie scratched her under her jaw and she licked her too. “Moon likes you, Elsie!” said Ilyanna. Elsie smiled. “Well,” she said, “Shall they go outside?” All the girls cheered and went to fetch their shoes.
We ran around and played tag, snap-the-whip, and then hopscotch in the dirt-patch. After everyone had played enough hopscotch, they sat at the table beneath the old elm tree. Ann Marie, the maid brought out cookies and cold milk to refresh us. We chatted and ate. For a long time they were perfectly content. But they didn’t notice the gray storm clouds approaching. We looked up to see the sun gone and the sky gray and black. A strong gale began blowing, and she felt several large drops of water drip on her. A torrent of rain suddenly commenced and interrupted our cheerful picnic. There were screams and shrieks as the girls were, very quickly, she have to say, completely soaked to the skin. One by one, they quickly darted from under the elm tree and to the house. She made certain everyone was inside before shutting the door. Lorelei, the housemaid came from the kitchen and saw our drenched dresses. She sighed, “I’m so sorry, girls, let her dry those for you.” We all went up stairs to the large bedroom that housed the twelve girls, and shed our dripping clothes. Elsie borrowed Edeline’s cranberry housedress, which went well with her golden hair. We carried our dresses down from the bedroom and gave them to Lorelei. She hung them in front of the large fireplace, three at a time. It didn’t look like she was to get home by lunch after all. While our dresses dried, they all chatted and played hand games to pass the time. Edeline and she chatted about horses, and she told her that a new young man, quite eye-catching, was working at Carter’s General Store. His name was Caleb Yewbeam and he (when she saw him) was a very hard worker. She in turn told her about her cousin, Sarah Grace, who had fallen out of a tree and broken an arm and her leg. And then she invited her to come to the Lucky Leaf Tavern with her. “All her friends from England will be there! Abby, Sara, Celia, Elisabeth, Elaine, and Castile! Castile’s from England and she’s got fashion news for us!” she hesitated. Just then, Catherine and Deborah returned. They both had rosy cheeks, signs that they’d walked home. Catherine looked disappointed. She came over to her and quietly asked, “Did Daniel plan to see her, Elsie? Because he wasn’t at the party,” she told her she didn’t know, but she’d ask him if she wanted. She smiled and said she’d be obliged if she did. After a while, her dress was dry. Edeline said she could wear hers home and bring it back next week. She thanked her and stuffed her dress into her satchel. Elsie bade them all goodbye and opened the front door to more freezing rain.
no indentation, poor grammar. sappy. i havent even got to the part about when Fiador was a sentimental, maudlin man.
apologies.
you'll never see him that way.
i'll. uhm. never post that here.
Chapter The First
“Elsie? Elsie! Elisabeth Olivia Ingersoll, please come down for breakfast!!” Elsie’s father called. Oh, brother. I’m in for it! She opened her eyes, and saw that her sister Isabella’s bed was empty. How did she always manage to wake up before her? Especially since she spent most nights talking until Father comes in, robe hastily tied, to discipline us for staying up too late “Coming, Father….”
She yawned and pulled the patchwork coverlet around her. The morning was icy cold and Elsie didn’t want to get out of bed. At least, not until Father lit the fire. But, today was Monday and she had to go watch the Rosemont girls. The Rosemont’s were the Governor’s family.
Elsie often watched eight of their twelve girls. Looking outside, she almost reconsidered. All our trees were swaying violently with the wind and a constant draft from the window behind her told her it was cold. Icy cold. But, although the weather was cold and blustery, the sun was still shining.
And today was the day that Governor and Mrs. Rosemont had to attend the social gathering in Boston that a governor and his wife have to be present at. And you don’t want to leave twelve girls alone all day! She knew, as she was a female that girls bicker over anything. But those girls, on the other hand, were also charming young ladies that she enjoyed being with. Elsie admitted she shouldn’t have come to hasty conclusions. Looking outside, seeing the day in a new way, she felt blessed to be alive. She just had to share her thoughts with God. After praying, she felt a lot better. Elsie burrowed under her quilt, hoping for five more minutes.
But, the loft-stairs creaked, and suddenly her door opened. “Father asked you to come down, sister…And that means come down!” said Daniel, her 18 year-old brother. Elsie, surprised, sat up swiftly, banging her elbow on the wall. “Daniel…. Why is it always me? Why do you always choose to scare me, trip me, push ME?” she moaned, and rubbed her aching elbow. Daniel laughed quietly. “Father always says ‘It’s always your reaction to mischief that satisfies the mischief-maker.’ You are the prime example for that circumstance,” he said. Elsie was seething inside, but calmly steered Daniel out of the room and shut the door. Once she was alone, she undressed from her nightshift, and walked to her dresser. After some serious consideration, she pulled out a petticoat embroidered with sky blue flowers and her cornflower blue dress. She put them on and pulled on her stockings and shoes. Then, Elsie scrambled down the stairs and sat down at the table. Ten-year-old James and seven-year-old Isabella looked at her. “Sorry Father, she had a bit of trouble getting down to breakfast. Daniel had to bother me,” she said, still feeling the dull pain that seemed to flare up every time she saw Daniel. Then, Elsie had the most devilish idea for revenge. “Wait,” she said. “Did we wash our hands?” Everybody (even Father) groaned. They all hated to wash up at the outside pump. This time of year, the water was freezing cold and made their hands red and numb. But, she’d been put in charge of making sure they all washed up. Unfortunately, revenge, this time, included her.
So they all trooped out to the pump and, one by one, they turned on the pump and quickly scrubbed their hands with soap that Basil made. Elspeth Tanner-Basil is a freed black woman that lived in a hut on their land. More specifically, she was their sharecropper. She provided soap, medicine, and herbs for their family in exchange for living down in the everglade on our property.
"Elsie... I HATE washing my hands in the winter..." Isabella whined. Daniel interjected with a rolling of the eyes. "We all know she wanted revenge on me."
"I did not!"
"Did too,"
"No, I didn't."
"YES, YOU DID..." This said with a quiet smile, and a look of satisfaction. I stuck my tongue out.
After they finished, they all walked back in, warming our stinging hands in pockets of trousers and aprons. When they were inside, they all sat down again and relaxed while Father served us breakfast. Father set down a bowl of oatmeal in front of her. Elsie was about to lift her spoon to her lips, when Father cleared his throat. “Sorry!” she said, and folded her hands. Father closed his eyes, bowed his head, and began to pray:
Our Father,
Who reigneth over us in heaven, thank you for this meal.
Give us strength to do our work, and patience to deal with our siblings.
In Jesus’ name,
Amen
Then Elsie dug in, and ate with relish. Now, this was good. If she knew Father he had a sweet tooth and has always bought brown sugar from Carter’s to go with it; and every morning they had warm, fresh cream from Betsy, their Guernsey cow. But if they wanted cold milk, they'd have to trek down to the riverbed cellar where their milk chills. During the summer at least. Speaking of Betsy, Elsie thought she would go down to the barn to see if Betsy dropped her calf.
The barn was the best smelling place in the world. The mixture of meadow hay, grain, leather, horse sweat and manure (yes, you heard it right) make up the smell of the Ingersoll’s barn. And it’s always warm in there, even then, in that frosty November. Elsie walked over to Betsy’s stall and saw a russet colored calf, wobbling around, still damp from birth. “ Oh, you are so adorable!!! Let’s see you are. A boy?” Well, she thought, “Henry will have to do,” she said. Elsie placed a large armful of hay in the manger for Betsy. The mottled old cow lumbered over and sunk her head into the hay, beginning to chew ponderously. Elsie bid the sweet animal farewell, and then went over to the box stalls for their horses. The first stall held Van Irish, her Father’s cream stallion, calm as a summer breeze. Father found him as a foal, and has nurtured him into a pleasant steed. He shows him at the fair every year.
Well, except this year, because Van Irish had a twisted joint. Poor thing. Elsie inspected his hocks, and then unwrapped the bandage covering the swelled leg. The redness had faded, and the swelling had definitely gone down. “Good boy, Irish.” she said, scratching his cheek. He nuzzled her, breathing his carroty breath on her.
The next stall held Don Miguel, her brother’s pinto gelding. He tried to nip her as she passed, being a bad-natured horse from birth. Elsie pushed his head away. “Miguel, you are the most pig-headed horse I’ve ever set my eyes upon.” she said, and walked on. The next two stalls held Courage and Brevity, their Shires. They pull the plow and the wagon. Elsie rubbed Brevity’s nose and scratched her cheek. Courage thrust his head out and nosed her. “Alright, Courage, I see you” she said as she batted his ear.
Elsie then stopped in front of her mother’s old mare, Meadowlark. She fingered the necklace Mother had given her on her sixth birthday, just days before she died. Her dear mother had fallen from Lark’s back, trying to ride home during a storm. Elsie’s father, worried, rode off to look for her and found her lifeless, neck broken.
Now, Elsie’s father was courting a gorgeous but unpleasant lady named Irene Thoreau who didn’t like children. She told James that his shirt was wrinkled. Isabella burst into tears after being criticized about her scuffed up shoes. Elsie was told to act more like a lady. Daniel was lectured about his beau, Catherine Rosemont. Elsie did loathe Irene. Very much indeed. Well enough about Miss Sent Down From Heaven, Miss Prim, and Miss Proper. Ah, there she went again, calling her names. What was it with Irene?
Elsie patted Lark, gave her a goodbye kiss, and then arrived at the stall of her horse, her mare, Dearheart Moon. She was an Appaloosa, gray with marbled white speckles all over her. She also had unusual blue eyes. Elsie kissed her velvety nose and fondled her ears. Dearheart nuzzled her cheek, drooling affectionately.
Elsie dutifully gave her a measure of grain so she could eat. She also fed the other horses and rubbed Lark’s ears again. Then she leaned against the stall and sighed. The sounds of satisfied crunching filled the barn. This was paradise. “Elsie? Where are you?” Father called. “Ah, she sees Betsy had her calf. Male, good build, very nice color.” she came up to him. “He’s a Henry,” she said shortly, patting Betsy on her soft head. She moved closer so she could scratch her ears. Father nodded “Henry is a good name.” He murmured, and hugged her. “ How’s her fifteen-year-old daughter? Every time she sees you, you’re with the horses. You aren’t going to grow out of this, are you?” she shook her head. He laughed “Come on, let’s go back up to the house,” he said.
When they crossed the threshold, Daniel pushed past us. “Got to go, Catherine’s waiting!!” he yelled. She laughed. “Whatever manners he has, he’s forgotten them!” Father said. “Speaking of someone waiting, you’ve got to watch the Rosemont brood!!” he exclaimed. Elsie gasped. “Oh, no! Mrs. Rosemont isn’t going to be very pleased when I arrive late!! I’m going to get ready. Be right back!!” she ran upstairs and grabbed her leather satchel containing her sketchbook, pencils, erasers, and other assorted drawing utensils. When she heard Irene talking to Father, she sighed crossly and quickly ran a brush over her hair. Hearing her laugh at Father made her again touch her necklace from Mother. Elsie missed her. “There, all set!!” she sighed and sprinted quietly downstairs. Irene was making those eyes at him. “Those children of yours are quite…charming, Joseph. Naomi gave you quite a responsibility, going off and dying like that.” She purred and squeezed his arm. Elsie gave a stifled gasp. Father hated mentioning Mama. Let alone in a negative way. But, Father calmly kissed Irene’s ‘pale as ice’ cheek and led her to the kitchen. She rolled her eyes and ran out to the barn she quickly saddled Dearheart. She leapt on to her and cantered out of the barn. We would take the shortcut to save time. She steered her towards the side road and they cantered lightly along. Before long, she saw the Halfway Tree, as she called it looming up ahead. It was an immense pine, sweetly scented, and densely branched. She rode past it and looked ahead, searching for potholes and ditches. None apparent.
Soon she came to Rosemont Manor, a large mansion that the governor owned. The mannerly Rosemont brood composed of twelve charming girls: Arabella, Blair, Catherine, Deborah, Edeline, Felicity, Genevieve, Heather, Ivy, Jessica, Kathleen, and the smallest, Liberty, who was six months old today. What a responsibility. She doesn’t think she’d ever be able to handle twelve girls!
She opened the door, expecting a flood of Rosemont’s to come out. Instead two girls; they thanked her as they walked out, dressed for town. They were Catherine and Deborah. They were off to meet their beaux, which is French for courtiers, or men who come courting. In this case, the girls were going to the men. She herded the girls to the living room where Mrs. Luna Bella Rosemont was chatting with her bosom-friend, Stella-Marie Tidings, who had six boys. Overwhelming. She bade Mrs. Rosemont and Liberty (who was going with her parents) and Mrs. Tiding’s goodbye and ushered her to the door. She and her husband, Governor Sebastian Rosemont went off to their ball, or whatever they were going to. “Have fun, Mrs. Rosemont!” she called as they got in the horse-drawn carriage and rattled down the drive.
Elsie quietly closed the door. Jessica immediately jumped at her leg, while Kathleen and Ilyanna tugged at her arms. “We got a dog, Elsie and she’s pretty!!” Ivy said. Katy and Jessie nodded cheerfully. “Come see, come see!” Gisela said, and Heather led her down the hall to the kitchen. Edeline and Felicity were in the kitchen caring for the dog.
The dog was a shepherd mix; she guessed and came about to her upper thigh when it stood, hackles raised, but wagging its tail slowly as if to say, ‘I’m ready to bite if you’re bad, or she’ll lick you all over if you’re good’. She held out her hand and let the dog breathe in her scent. It woofed quietly and licked her fingers happily. “It’s a she! Her name’s Little Moon, because they found her under the full moon ” said Edeline, who was her age and was the one she could open her heart to, and tell her secrets. Like the one about her…. well… it’s a secret, so she shouldn’t tell. Felicity came up to her and said, “ Her paw is hurt, would you look at it?” she nodded and asked her to pick up Little Moon’s paw. She examined it and found a thorn, deeply embedded in her paw. Moon whined and nipped her hand, trying to make her drop her paw. She drew in her breath sharply as her teeth scraped across her hand. “She need someone to hold her head so she won’t bite her.” Edeline smiled and held Moon’s head away from her. She grabbed the thorn and pulled. Moon yelped and struggled against Edeline’s firm hold around her head. She eased the thorn slowly out of Moon’s paw. Moon whined as she held it up for the girls to see. They all stepped back and grimaced. Edeline patted Moon on the head lovingly. Moon licked her face and started to pant happily. Elsie scratched her under her jaw and she licked her too. “Moon likes you, Elsie!” said Ilyanna. Elsie smiled. “Well,” she said, “Shall they go outside?” All the girls cheered and went to fetch their shoes.
We ran around and played tag, snap-the-whip, and then hopscotch in the dirt-patch. After everyone had played enough hopscotch, they sat at the table beneath the old elm tree. Ann Marie, the maid brought out cookies and cold milk to refresh us. We chatted and ate. For a long time they were perfectly content. But they didn’t notice the gray storm clouds approaching. We looked up to see the sun gone and the sky gray and black. A strong gale began blowing, and she felt several large drops of water drip on her. A torrent of rain suddenly commenced and interrupted our cheerful picnic. There were screams and shrieks as the girls were, very quickly, she have to say, completely soaked to the skin. One by one, they quickly darted from under the elm tree and to the house. She made certain everyone was inside before shutting the door. Lorelei, the housemaid came from the kitchen and saw our drenched dresses. She sighed, “I’m so sorry, girls, let her dry those for you.” We all went up stairs to the large bedroom that housed the twelve girls, and shed our dripping clothes. Elsie borrowed Edeline’s cranberry housedress, which went well with her golden hair. We carried our dresses down from the bedroom and gave them to Lorelei. She hung them in front of the large fireplace, three at a time. It didn’t look like she was to get home by lunch after all. While our dresses dried, they all chatted and played hand games to pass the time. Edeline and she chatted about horses, and she told her that a new young man, quite eye-catching, was working at Carter’s General Store. His name was Caleb Yewbeam and he (when she saw him) was a very hard worker. She in turn told her about her cousin, Sarah Grace, who had fallen out of a tree and broken an arm and her leg. And then she invited her to come to the Lucky Leaf Tavern with her. “All her friends from England will be there! Abby, Sara, Celia, Elisabeth, Elaine, and Castile! Castile’s from England and she’s got fashion news for us!” she hesitated. Just then, Catherine and Deborah returned. They both had rosy cheeks, signs that they’d walked home. Catherine looked disappointed. She came over to her and quietly asked, “Did Daniel plan to see her, Elsie? Because he wasn’t at the party,” she told her she didn’t know, but she’d ask him if she wanted. She smiled and said she’d be obliged if she did. After a while, her dress was dry. Edeline said she could wear hers home and bring it back next week. She thanked her and stuffed her dress into her satchel. Elsie bade them all goodbye and opened the front door to more freezing rain.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Hello loves.
I just wanted to post here and tell you all that I am writing FEVERISHLY to give my frist section to Tom! He shall edit it and type it up so you fans shall see something of real substance. Something longer than an excerpt. Something like
Ten chapters.
Howsabout that?
I think you are all getting excited. I hope.
Anyways, gotta skitter.
e.e.
I just wanted to post here and tell you all that I am writing FEVERISHLY to give my frist section to Tom! He shall edit it and type it up so you fans shall see something of real substance. Something longer than an excerpt. Something like
Ten chapters.
Howsabout that?
I think you are all getting excited. I hope.
Anyways, gotta skitter.
e.e.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Today has been mellow. I have been dealing with what I think are some muscle cramps, icky stuff, they are just not so fun.
My bffl sent me some music today, or maybe yesterday ... "so good" (Harry Osborn ref).
Simon + Garfunkel..... i love their voices.
My sisters are pretending "School" and they are being really silly. I like hearing them get along. :)
Hearing: voices, Motion by Plumb, keyboard tapping, laughter, Signal Fire by Snow Patrol (<3)
Seeing: screen, words, "publish post" button, wildwood dancing, this ad:
Txt Rihanna from ur cell?
What would u txt her and tell her? Here's your chance...
txt-rhianna.com
What would u txt her and tell her? Here's your chance...
txt-rhianna.com
feeling: tired, sore, content
thinking: is my dog going to be all right? will i feel okay?
dreaming: about halcyon days, about my story, about heaven
And my current obsession is Plumb. www.plumbinfo.com Shes has a beautiful voice. She has a really wonderful site. This song http://www.playlist.com/searchbeta/tracks#in%20my%20arms
is my favorite song by her; its so precious and makes me cry!
in my arms
clouds will rage and
storms will race in
but you will be safe in my arms
rains will pour down
waves will crash around
but you will be safe in my arms.
So precious... :) I hope I will one day be as good as her.
this is another one i love by her...... so cute.
I also love Snow Patrol (Chasing Cars) for their songs chasing cars, signal fire, the planets bend between us, if theres a rocket tie me to it, and crack the shutters. Signal Fire is my favorite (there you are.....standing right in front of me.....) :)
I feel like i should stop writing. i usually blog long and infrequent. ;)
***
Im really working on revising my novel. It has to be good now that i have taken so much OUT. Here's an uber cool sneak peek. Don't tell too many people.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fiador found her by the door, eyes empty, a smile pasted upon her face. It had been almost a year since he had actually found time, and wanted to be with her.
“Elspeth,” It was more of a spoken thought than a question. She looked up at him, and something flashed across her face. A smile touched her lips, yet it was only a civil smile. No emotion. Something told Fiador that she was just going to ignore him. But when her shoulders sagged, and her face broke into a comforted smile, Fiador began to calm.
“Can I have you alone for a minute?” he spoke in a straightforward manner, offering an arm. He could tell she was about to refuse, politely. But she stepped to him, and was closer to him then she had been in such a long time. Have me alone? Elspeth thought. She was feeling like she wnated him back. Take me away...
Tucking her hand into the crook of his arm, Elspeth looked up at him, and her eyes revealed her relief at him being here. Slowly, they walked out unto the terrace, and saw it was unexpectedly empty.
Drawing near to the railing, Elspeth turned away from him, and ran her hand over the smooth stone.
“It’s been a long time,” Her voice was so beautiful, Fiador thought, for a moment abandoning his caution…
“Elspeth,” It was more of a spoken thought than a question. She looked up at him, and something flashed across her face. A smile touched her lips, yet it was only a civil smile. No emotion. Something told Fiador that she was just going to ignore him. But when her shoulders sagged, and her face broke into a comforted smile, Fiador began to calm.
“Can I have you alone for a minute?” he spoke in a straightforward manner, offering an arm. He could tell she was about to refuse, politely. But she stepped to him, and was closer to him then she had been in such a long time. Have me alone? Elspeth thought. She was feeling like she wnated him back. Take me away...
Tucking her hand into the crook of his arm, Elspeth looked up at him, and her eyes revealed her relief at him being here. Slowly, they walked out unto the terrace, and saw it was unexpectedly empty.
Drawing near to the railing, Elspeth turned away from him, and ran her hand over the smooth stone.
“It’s been a long time,” Her voice was so beautiful, Fiador thought, for a moment abandoning his caution…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Oh. Yeah. We just found out my dog has Lyme's disease. Yeah. So now we have to get *samples* and take them into the vets office. Then we have to get an antibiotic, I assume.
She doesnt have any obvious symptoms... I have not seen snything suspicious. So when the test came back positive this afternoon, we were like *_*. We had taken her into the vet last night, and that was her yearly exam.
Before she had gotten bit by the raccoon, she had not been to the vet for like 4 years. So she got a multi vaccine after being bit, went through her three month quarantine, and was fine. That was a year ago.
So last night we take her in, get a booster for distemper (I think)...and she also had some blood drawn to test for heartworm and stuff. While testing the blood, I assume, they must have found the bacteria of Lymes Disease in her blood.
And on top of this, we are leaving for OK in eight days, I am down with cramps, we have a sock hop at chruch to decorate for...
God help us.
ever yours, Emily
Monday, June 1, 2009
P.s. i wanted this pic to be at the end....... and its not
this is my best friend for forever and for always
this is my best friend for forever and for always
This movie..........
so-oh-oh-oh-oh ... swee-ee-ee-ee-eet.
very repetitive, but so adorable.
You are so sweet
Dancing to that beat
There's a meat market down the street
The boys and the girls watch each other eat
You are so sweet, so sweet
Dancing and moving to that beat, that beat
There's a meat market down the street
The boys and girls watch each other eat
The boys and the girls watch each other eat
When they really just wanna watch each other
Sleep
They want to watch, to watch each other
Sleep, sleep sleep
Sleep
They want to watch, to watch each other
Sleep, sleep, sleep
and this one is pretty silly, but colorful. it makes me laugh. it sounds familiar, eh?
this website has been fundamental for my novel... http://www.writing-world.com/
it rocks my socks. it has articals like "What's the Magic Word: Defining the Sources, Effects and Costs of Magic" and these have really helped me revise what i am writing. its really cool.
Well we must know this dude. This dude is Mitchell Davis. Hes pretty cute, no? I love.
i cant wait to see this movie!
so anyways this is an interesting post for youuuuuu.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Character Bio: Fiador Godfrey
Fiador Godfrey is the well-off Captain of Deephaven’s Army. He is intelligent, forthright, yet moderately composed. Fiador’s major flaw is the frequent pretense of disdain, and his supposed appearance as stuck-up and narrow-minded estranges him from most company.
As most enthralling heroes go, Fiador has a dark past. He has gotten fairly good at revealing what’s ‘all right’, but he has also, undoubtedly, lied countless times. With his cleverness, he has gotten the position of reputable Captain. His childhood was meticulous; he was born into a prosperous family, and his parents were traders in cloth and spices, settling down in Torna, a city in the mountains. Fiador’s father, Balifor Godfrey was a man undecided with his allegiance. He grew to lean more towards Matheus, but still didn’t want to commit to either side.
At the early age of eight, Fiador experienced one of the most bloodiest raids in Torna’s history. Lothario’s men came; scores upon scores of them to attack the Torna They were after the grimoires in Torna’s extensive library, the crowning achievement of the city. Fiador’s house was raided, and the soldiers took him into captivity.
Thus, after a long march to the Shadowed Realms, Fiador, along with many other young boys, was installed into a training program. First, the boys learned instruction in service to Lothario, what it meant to be loyal to him. Then at age ten, they began combat schooling, and defense tactics. For six years, Fiador was schooled in dark ideals. Then he decided to escape, after a harsh rebuke by his commander. His escaping was successful, under the cover of darkness. His journey across Maharazhad was the start of a change in his heart. Upon his arrival in Deephaven, he focuses on adjusting to the atmosphere. Fiador is drafted to be a soldier in Deephaven’s army, and over four years, builds his way up to the coveted title of Captain. Three months after becoming Captain, he encounters a young, naïve woman lost in a forest. Little did he know that Elspeth was the fulfillment to an ancient foretelling…. and that he would find himself almost unwillingly in love with her ingenuousness.
As most enthralling heroes go, Fiador has a dark past. He has gotten fairly good at revealing what’s ‘all right’, but he has also, undoubtedly, lied countless times. With his cleverness, he has gotten the position of reputable Captain. His childhood was meticulous; he was born into a prosperous family, and his parents were traders in cloth and spices, settling down in Torna, a city in the mountains. Fiador’s father, Balifor Godfrey was a man undecided with his allegiance. He grew to lean more towards Matheus, but still didn’t want to commit to either side.
At the early age of eight, Fiador experienced one of the most bloodiest raids in Torna’s history. Lothario’s men came; scores upon scores of them to attack the Torna They were after the grimoires in Torna’s extensive library, the crowning achievement of the city. Fiador’s house was raided, and the soldiers took him into captivity.
Thus, after a long march to the Shadowed Realms, Fiador, along with many other young boys, was installed into a training program. First, the boys learned instruction in service to Lothario, what it meant to be loyal to him. Then at age ten, they began combat schooling, and defense tactics. For six years, Fiador was schooled in dark ideals. Then he decided to escape, after a harsh rebuke by his commander. His escaping was successful, under the cover of darkness. His journey across Maharazhad was the start of a change in his heart. Upon his arrival in Deephaven, he focuses on adjusting to the atmosphere. Fiador is drafted to be a soldier in Deephaven’s army, and over four years, builds his way up to the coveted title of Captain. Three months after becoming Captain, he encounters a young, naïve woman lost in a forest. Little did he know that Elspeth was the fulfillment to an ancient foretelling…. and that he would find himself almost unwillingly in love with her ingenuousness.
"You must know what I feel. Jane, I'm yours. God! I'm yours, I'm yours heart and soul." - Tom Lefroy
So I've been having this want to see Becoming Jane.........really.
It seems like the best movie ever. Its so sweet and rustic. Heres the review from Plugged In Online
http://www.pluggedinonline.com/movies/movies/a0003343.cfm
Its pretty concise, I really like the storyline.
I hope you, dear readers, have enjoyed my story so far. :)
Love, Emily.
So I've been having this want to see Becoming Jane.........really.
It seems like the best movie ever. Its so sweet and rustic. Heres the review from Plugged In Online
http://www.pluggedinonline.com/movies/movies/a0003343.cfm
Its pretty concise, I really like the storyline.
I hope you, dear readers, have enjoyed my story so far. :)
Love, Emily.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
There was a certain place in Maharazhad, where Elspeth loved to go. It was in the runs of Northeastern Deephaven, in a realm called the Forther Main. The Fortress of Varien stands in ruins, the dark stone overgrown with twisting vines and roots of trees… the same trees that felt the magic of your ancestors touch, the same trees that once were young and innocent. The trees beckoning your gaze with their twisting crowns of branches.
It was like the whole world forgot about that ruin. No gardener’s shears tended the waving grass or the rambling vines. Skilled hands never tended the flowers, or the smaller trees. Unused, empty, it had just slipped out of memory. Every so often, an old mage or sorcerer would stumble upon it in his daily walk… and he would remember the Great Raid upon Varien, more than a thousand years ago, in a time almost immemorial. He might hear the faint screams of dying men, the crackle of fires, the creak of the powerful trebuchets, or he might hear complete, overwhelming silence, broken only by the vociferous cawing of a stray rook, or the echoing twitters of birds.
Indeed, the birds and animals there were the only ones who seemed to find Varien every time, or they dwelled there always. Their presence only made Varien seem wilder, yet more comforting. If they had not been there, Varien may have only been the most frightening place, full of vivid memories that strained to let you hear them, see them, taste them.
The ruin was an effectual help for a flight of the imagination. The scarred trees, mostly oak and beech, stretched branches laden with green leaves to the ragged sky. The masses of dark stone lay arbitrary about in the long grass and fronds of slight ferns. Small white flowers sprouted among the stones, their delicate heads swaying. More often than not, the birds would be there, twittering intrepidly about, unaware of the shroud –of what seemed like sacredness— that hung over the ruin. Something there held you silent some times. Other times, you’d feel a euphoric desire to sing and dance. Varien does not have a soul, and is not human. But Varien gives only what you seek. There is an old poem of Varien, written by Ennaran of Ballantyr:
Hidden by shadows, found by the grieving
The greenwood of silence, the peace of the land
Open to wanderers, reaching for seekers
Here is found solace, comfort, restraint
Twisting trees reach above ruins of stone
Grass waving, weaving, chill with the dew
Were once high walls stood, only crumbling stone
Vines overtake and slowly compress
A mysterious beauty, wild and free
The king’s thrones are empty; the people are gone
But here sits the finder, blessed to discover
And the poem was true, the best described with mere, mortal words. Yet, most stumblers who come across Varien are struck speechless as they gaze on the mysterious ruin of the fortress. If they find their voice, out come words they put to paper soon after leaving. These poems and songs have been highly esteemed far and wide, for no one else can match the quality and measure of that finder’s words. Often the finder could not explain how he had written such beauty, so astounding it brought joyous tears to the eyes of the grateful.
I cannot help but try to describe Varien with all the words I know that ascribe Varien its due glory. Amongst the trees, was a feeling of calm there in Varien, a feeling of protection. When one would stumble upon it, and when you pushed past your momentary state of unmoving, you’d marvel over its wonder and find its beauty beggaring description. Under duress, one would leave, trailing a hand over the last stone, pressing your face against the smooth bark of a beech tree, bending to caress the pale flowers, and perhaps tentatively taking a few to bring home.
And you would never find that place again for a long time—if not ever. Some say its location changes after the leaving of another wayfarer. Others say it levitates to rest upon the clouds. Ask Elspeth—she found it many times, but only when she needed solace and comfort in times of demands or folly. Oftentimes, if she brought another with her, Varien would be harder to find. It was mostly because her companion would hold doubt inside, thinking that Elspeth was just going off on to a wild goose chase. Once Varien revealed itself, all doubt would flee, and a childlike wonder would overcome the both of them. Varien is a wild and untamable place, offering a silent solace for wandering, wondering souls. Varien is delicate and embracing. Varien is only a wood to blinded eyes, but to those who see— with more than their eyes, Varien is alive.
It was like the whole world forgot about that ruin. No gardener’s shears tended the waving grass or the rambling vines. Skilled hands never tended the flowers, or the smaller trees. Unused, empty, it had just slipped out of memory. Every so often, an old mage or sorcerer would stumble upon it in his daily walk… and he would remember the Great Raid upon Varien, more than a thousand years ago, in a time almost immemorial. He might hear the faint screams of dying men, the crackle of fires, the creak of the powerful trebuchets, or he might hear complete, overwhelming silence, broken only by the vociferous cawing of a stray rook, or the echoing twitters of birds.
Indeed, the birds and animals there were the only ones who seemed to find Varien every time, or they dwelled there always. Their presence only made Varien seem wilder, yet more comforting. If they had not been there, Varien may have only been the most frightening place, full of vivid memories that strained to let you hear them, see them, taste them.
The ruin was an effectual help for a flight of the imagination. The scarred trees, mostly oak and beech, stretched branches laden with green leaves to the ragged sky. The masses of dark stone lay arbitrary about in the long grass and fronds of slight ferns. Small white flowers sprouted among the stones, their delicate heads swaying. More often than not, the birds would be there, twittering intrepidly about, unaware of the shroud –of what seemed like sacredness— that hung over the ruin. Something there held you silent some times. Other times, you’d feel a euphoric desire to sing and dance. Varien does not have a soul, and is not human. But Varien gives only what you seek. There is an old poem of Varien, written by Ennaran of Ballantyr:
Hidden by shadows, found by the grieving
The greenwood of silence, the peace of the land
Open to wanderers, reaching for seekers
Here is found solace, comfort, restraint
Twisting trees reach above ruins of stone
Grass waving, weaving, chill with the dew
Were once high walls stood, only crumbling stone
Vines overtake and slowly compress
A mysterious beauty, wild and free
The king’s thrones are empty; the people are gone
But here sits the finder, blessed to discover
And the poem was true, the best described with mere, mortal words. Yet, most stumblers who come across Varien are struck speechless as they gaze on the mysterious ruin of the fortress. If they find their voice, out come words they put to paper soon after leaving. These poems and songs have been highly esteemed far and wide, for no one else can match the quality and measure of that finder’s words. Often the finder could not explain how he had written such beauty, so astounding it brought joyous tears to the eyes of the grateful.
I cannot help but try to describe Varien with all the words I know that ascribe Varien its due glory. Amongst the trees, was a feeling of calm there in Varien, a feeling of protection. When one would stumble upon it, and when you pushed past your momentary state of unmoving, you’d marvel over its wonder and find its beauty beggaring description. Under duress, one would leave, trailing a hand over the last stone, pressing your face against the smooth bark of a beech tree, bending to caress the pale flowers, and perhaps tentatively taking a few to bring home.
And you would never find that place again for a long time—if not ever. Some say its location changes after the leaving of another wayfarer. Others say it levitates to rest upon the clouds. Ask Elspeth—she found it many times, but only when she needed solace and comfort in times of demands or folly. Oftentimes, if she brought another with her, Varien would be harder to find. It was mostly because her companion would hold doubt inside, thinking that Elspeth was just going off on to a wild goose chase. Once Varien revealed itself, all doubt would flee, and a childlike wonder would overcome the both of them. Varien is a wild and untamable place, offering a silent solace for wandering, wondering souls. Varien is delicate and embracing. Varien is only a wood to blinded eyes, but to those who see— with more than their eyes, Varien is alive.
In Which We Are Acquainted With Our Main Character,
And Elspeth goes to Market
Once upon a time, in a separate world, there lived a girl. Accurately, since she was seventeen years of age at this story’s beginning, henceforth we shall refer to her as a young woman.
At that moment, our main character (Elspeth Creed by name) was asleep, lost in a deep dream. This dream was of a city, one Elspeth had never seen before. She stood, in the midst of a crowd, a basket upon her arm. Then there was a flash, and in her head (within the dream), Elspeth saw a horrible creature. She saw a dragon, with ragged wings and foul breath, winging its way through a torn sky. Somehow, Elspeth knew that the dragon she had seen was to attack the town she stood in. How she knew, well… she was not entirely sure. She just knew.
Goodness, if a dragon was to attack this city, why, Elspeth had to warn someone! She tossed in her bed, face one of confusion. If one were to see her tossing and turning at this ungodly hour, it would be found very amusing.
Elspeth saw a man upon a horse. His pale face was almost casual, but his voice was commanding. She felt a momentary hesitation.
“What is this that you come screaming through our peaceful city like a madwoman?” He said, his once one of admonition. Elspeth shook her head confusedly, and the man faded away. In his place was darkness.
Suddenly, in a burst of red fire, the dragon appeared. Smoke drifted up from his nostrils, and sparks flew around his head. Elspeth shrank away, seeing his burning eyes. He opened his mouth and so revealed the jagged teeth…
Elspeth woke, her hands tightly gripping the linen sheets. Her heart raced faster than a swift courser, and her breath was short. What a horrid dream, she thought, her head still spinning just a bit. But, so absurd.
It was not often that Elspeth had such vivid dreams. But leading up to this one, they all had been getting worse and worse. Mayhap she was going mad, or the strain of her work was affecting her. It was a dream and no more, Elspeth thought, almost convincing herself. She sat up slowly, and stretched… tried to calm her breath, before swiftly untangling herself from her bed sheets.
That man… She had dreamt of him before. Black hair and gray-green eyes like the long grass in the meadows. Who was he, so pale-faced and solemn? And why was she dreaming of a dragon…before he attacked a city shed never even seen? Was this an omen? Was she really having visions, like the wise-woman who lived in the forest to the west? That woman wasn’t so received, though most of her forewarnings came true, down to the very detail. Get up, Elspeth. You have a busy day before you.
So she did, dressing in a mulberry-colored dress of rough linen. Over this went an apron-like smock of a heavier cloth, in dark red. Simple brocade in gold thread trailed its way in floral patterns across the bodice.
Pinning her hair up, Elspeth slipped her cold feet into a pair of her shoes. Let it be known, she only had two pairs.
Turning to the nest of blankets upon the floor, she smiled at her three sisters. To her, Roselyn and Catherine were almost better asleep. Isabel, however, was her best friend. But, given that Elspeth was not the eldest, but the fourth, and that the three eldest were all boys… Well, the girls had to stay together, and defend one another in daily quarrels.
Well, Isabel had to be woken, for their mother needed help with the cooking.
Isabel woke slowly, eyes still closed as she spoke.
“Is it really morning? I don’t want to get up just yet…”
“Isabel, come off it. Mother wants us to help her with preparations for Master Solingen. Remember he’s to come tomorrow.”
“Oh, I did overlook that. But, Elspeth our larder and pantry are near empty. However are we to manage?”
Elspeth laughed at her sister’s large words. True, she had got it from Elspeth. But it sounded much more ridiculous from Isabel’s mouth.
“Mother says we will be fine. We’re to go to Market today, and should be back by nightfall. That’ll give us plenty of time to prepare for the feast tomorrow.” Elspeth bustled about the room, laying out Roselyn and Cat’s outfits for the day, and placing their wooden clogs by them.
Isabel dressed in a green kirtle, over which went a yellow smock. Then, after putting on her own shoes, she and Elspeth clattered down the stairs, into the open kitchen.
In their longhouse, on the very cold isle of Eolas, the kitchen was the center of the house… in location and preference. Everyone seemed to gather there at any time of the day, talking, helping prepare meals, even just sitting, idle.
Their mother, Adia Creed, looked up from stirring a pot of porridge hung over the fire. Her warm eyes smiled even before her mouth did.
“Ah, you are awake. You two look lovely.” Their mother said, setting the long wooden spoon down and coming to quickly braid Isabel’s golden hair. As her fingers moved swiftly, she spoke further:
“I will tell you what we shall do, girls. Since Master Solingen is not to come until tomorrow, we do not need to start cooking until after you return from Market, provided you return as quickly as possible. Are you sure you want to go alone, Elspeth?”
Elspeth nodded earnestly. “Yes, I am sure. I will be just fine.” As she said this, her mother’s eyes twinkled.
Peter Creed, Elspeth’s father, entered the kitchen.
“I hear you’re going to Market alone!” He said. “Are you sure…”
Elspeth grinned.
“I will be fine,” She said blithely. “There’s nothing to be worried over.”
Sitting, her father spoke again:
“Jonathon Kent appears to have a break in his borders, Adia. Something was trying to get in several nights ago, and whatever it was… made a fault in his walls. I am going over there this evening to help repair it, but I have not yet heard the extent of the damage.”
Elspeth looked up from stirring the porridge, eyes wide. What could it have been, that it made a break in Master Kent’s strong walls? She thought. Perchance it was one of those shadowy things that were skulking around. Eolas does not feel safe any longer. What is happening?
The three older boys entered, Andrew, James, and Tom. They were preparing to leave, for their work was in the fields of their landlord, Godfrey Dearing Solingen.
The man, despite his elaborate name, was a simple, high-spirited man, with a considerable paunch. Master Solingen and his son were coming for tomorrow’s supper. Elspeth wasn’t looking forward to it that was for sure. Thien Solingen was just that sort of man who made her feel…well… cloistered, in an oppressive way. He was kind, but overly affectionate.
“I still would like you to take Will along with you. And I am keeping Cat with me today. She wandered off last time you went.”
At this, Isabel laughed. “And the rope-walker man was set to take her up onto the rope.” She said. Their mother finished with Isabel’s hair and then stirred the porridge a bit more.
“Are you two ready to leave?” She asked.
“Yes, Mother. We were all ready last night.” Elspeth said. “We were thinking of—”
“Then your chores need looking after. Isabel, you are to feed the chickens and geese…”
And so, that is how Elspeth got to fetch the water that day. She trudged down the road to the river, the yoke upon her shoulders, the empty buckets swinging.
And Elspeth goes to Market
Once upon a time, in a separate world, there lived a girl. Accurately, since she was seventeen years of age at this story’s beginning, henceforth we shall refer to her as a young woman.
At that moment, our main character (Elspeth Creed by name) was asleep, lost in a deep dream. This dream was of a city, one Elspeth had never seen before. She stood, in the midst of a crowd, a basket upon her arm. Then there was a flash, and in her head (within the dream), Elspeth saw a horrible creature. She saw a dragon, with ragged wings and foul breath, winging its way through a torn sky. Somehow, Elspeth knew that the dragon she had seen was to attack the town she stood in. How she knew, well… she was not entirely sure. She just knew.
Goodness, if a dragon was to attack this city, why, Elspeth had to warn someone! She tossed in her bed, face one of confusion. If one were to see her tossing and turning at this ungodly hour, it would be found very amusing.
Elspeth saw a man upon a horse. His pale face was almost casual, but his voice was commanding. She felt a momentary hesitation.
“What is this that you come screaming through our peaceful city like a madwoman?” He said, his once one of admonition. Elspeth shook her head confusedly, and the man faded away. In his place was darkness.
Suddenly, in a burst of red fire, the dragon appeared. Smoke drifted up from his nostrils, and sparks flew around his head. Elspeth shrank away, seeing his burning eyes. He opened his mouth and so revealed the jagged teeth…
Elspeth woke, her hands tightly gripping the linen sheets. Her heart raced faster than a swift courser, and her breath was short. What a horrid dream, she thought, her head still spinning just a bit. But, so absurd.
It was not often that Elspeth had such vivid dreams. But leading up to this one, they all had been getting worse and worse. Mayhap she was going mad, or the strain of her work was affecting her. It was a dream and no more, Elspeth thought, almost convincing herself. She sat up slowly, and stretched… tried to calm her breath, before swiftly untangling herself from her bed sheets.
That man… She had dreamt of him before. Black hair and gray-green eyes like the long grass in the meadows. Who was he, so pale-faced and solemn? And why was she dreaming of a dragon…before he attacked a city shed never even seen? Was this an omen? Was she really having visions, like the wise-woman who lived in the forest to the west? That woman wasn’t so received, though most of her forewarnings came true, down to the very detail. Get up, Elspeth. You have a busy day before you.
So she did, dressing in a mulberry-colored dress of rough linen. Over this went an apron-like smock of a heavier cloth, in dark red. Simple brocade in gold thread trailed its way in floral patterns across the bodice.
Pinning her hair up, Elspeth slipped her cold feet into a pair of her shoes. Let it be known, she only had two pairs.
Turning to the nest of blankets upon the floor, she smiled at her three sisters. To her, Roselyn and Catherine were almost better asleep. Isabel, however, was her best friend. But, given that Elspeth was not the eldest, but the fourth, and that the three eldest were all boys… Well, the girls had to stay together, and defend one another in daily quarrels.
Well, Isabel had to be woken, for their mother needed help with the cooking.
Isabel woke slowly, eyes still closed as she spoke.
“Is it really morning? I don’t want to get up just yet…”
“Isabel, come off it. Mother wants us to help her with preparations for Master Solingen. Remember he’s to come tomorrow.”
“Oh, I did overlook that. But, Elspeth our larder and pantry are near empty. However are we to manage?”
Elspeth laughed at her sister’s large words. True, she had got it from Elspeth. But it sounded much more ridiculous from Isabel’s mouth.
“Mother says we will be fine. We’re to go to Market today, and should be back by nightfall. That’ll give us plenty of time to prepare for the feast tomorrow.” Elspeth bustled about the room, laying out Roselyn and Cat’s outfits for the day, and placing their wooden clogs by them.
Isabel dressed in a green kirtle, over which went a yellow smock. Then, after putting on her own shoes, she and Elspeth clattered down the stairs, into the open kitchen.
In their longhouse, on the very cold isle of Eolas, the kitchen was the center of the house… in location and preference. Everyone seemed to gather there at any time of the day, talking, helping prepare meals, even just sitting, idle.
Their mother, Adia Creed, looked up from stirring a pot of porridge hung over the fire. Her warm eyes smiled even before her mouth did.
“Ah, you are awake. You two look lovely.” Their mother said, setting the long wooden spoon down and coming to quickly braid Isabel’s golden hair. As her fingers moved swiftly, she spoke further:
“I will tell you what we shall do, girls. Since Master Solingen is not to come until tomorrow, we do not need to start cooking until after you return from Market, provided you return as quickly as possible. Are you sure you want to go alone, Elspeth?”
Elspeth nodded earnestly. “Yes, I am sure. I will be just fine.” As she said this, her mother’s eyes twinkled.
Peter Creed, Elspeth’s father, entered the kitchen.
“I hear you’re going to Market alone!” He said. “Are you sure…”
Elspeth grinned.
“I will be fine,” She said blithely. “There’s nothing to be worried over.”
Sitting, her father spoke again:
“Jonathon Kent appears to have a break in his borders, Adia. Something was trying to get in several nights ago, and whatever it was… made a fault in his walls. I am going over there this evening to help repair it, but I have not yet heard the extent of the damage.”
Elspeth looked up from stirring the porridge, eyes wide. What could it have been, that it made a break in Master Kent’s strong walls? She thought. Perchance it was one of those shadowy things that were skulking around. Eolas does not feel safe any longer. What is happening?
The three older boys entered, Andrew, James, and Tom. They were preparing to leave, for their work was in the fields of their landlord, Godfrey Dearing Solingen.
The man, despite his elaborate name, was a simple, high-spirited man, with a considerable paunch. Master Solingen and his son were coming for tomorrow’s supper. Elspeth wasn’t looking forward to it that was for sure. Thien Solingen was just that sort of man who made her feel…well… cloistered, in an oppressive way. He was kind, but overly affectionate.
“I still would like you to take Will along with you. And I am keeping Cat with me today. She wandered off last time you went.”
At this, Isabel laughed. “And the rope-walker man was set to take her up onto the rope.” She said. Their mother finished with Isabel’s hair and then stirred the porridge a bit more.
“Are you two ready to leave?” She asked.
“Yes, Mother. We were all ready last night.” Elspeth said. “We were thinking of—”
“Then your chores need looking after. Isabel, you are to feed the chickens and geese…”
And so, that is how Elspeth got to fetch the water that day. She trudged down the road to the river, the yoke upon her shoulders, the empty buckets swinging.
Friday, May 1, 2009
Welcome
"Are you the Singer?" She asked with a smile,
"If you are the Seeker," He replied, standing tall...
This is how the lay of Dernhill and Galadhriel begins. Names are adapted from popular literature. The poem is modeled after The Naming by Allison Croggon.
My name is Emily. This is my place to write my stories. The Singer and The Seeker is only one of my works. The main story to be posted on here is my novel in process, Night Ends the Day.
Im going to try to post on here as often as possible, but no guarantees. ;)
My style of writing is different, combining the main characters personal thoughts with some good descriptions.
For now, I have to sign off. The boys are getting upset over some plastic swords.
Welcome
I dont know if my other post posted. So Im redoing it. :)
"Are you the Singer?" She asked with a smile,
"If you are the Seeker," He replied, standing tall...
This is how the lay of Dernhill and Galadhriel begins. Names are adapted from popular literature. The poem is modeled after The Naming by Allison Croggon.
My name is Emily. This is my place to write my stories. The Singer and The Seeker is only one of my works. The main story to be posted on here is my novel in process, Night Ends the Day.
Im going to try to post on here as often as possible, but no guarantees. ;)
My style of writing is different, combining the main characters personal thoughts with some good descriptions.
For now, I have to sign off. The boys are getting upset over some plastic swords.
"Are you the Singer?" She asked with a smile,
"If you are the Seeker," He replied, standing tall...
This is how the lay of Dernhill and Galadhriel begins. Names are adapted from popular literature. The poem is modeled after The Naming by Allison Croggon.
My name is Emily. This is my place to write my stories. The Singer and The Seeker is only one of my works. The main story to be posted on here is my novel in process, Night Ends the Day.
Im going to try to post on here as often as possible, but no guarantees. ;)
My style of writing is different, combining the main characters personal thoughts with some good descriptions.
For now, I have to sign off. The boys are getting upset over some plastic swords.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
