The Mad Tea Party discussion
Mad Rants and Raves
>
In Which Chloe FREAKS OUT OVER HER AWFUL WRITING
Oops, meant to put this in Mad Rants and Raves.
Mod
I'm going to write a speculative novel.
Mod
Mod
What's your usernames? (Laszlo & Chloe)
I'm not on the official website, I'm not 13 yet, but I'm doing Camp on the YWP.
Mod
I'm Juliavdc
Mod
I love it!!!!!
You wrote "blonde" while describing a girl's hair."Blonde" is for describing a boy, and "blond" girl.
Mod
No, blond is meant to describe a boy, blonde for girl. I looked it up :)Thanks, Julia. I'm normally rotten at prologues.
This is really good! Is this a true story? I really hope not...
No. But all of the characters have a little bit of me in it.
Chloe wrote: "Listen to this:Prologue
It’s quiet in here, for once in my life. The apartment is dimly lit. Sorrowful stillness, except for the sound of our quick breaths. This cannot happen. My whole life fl..."
that was amazing until the end, it kinda got random like... their father just died and then they say "hey, lets go get a milkshake!"
but still... amazing... way better than mine:The Gift:
That first tear drop. That feeling of cool wetness caressing your skin. The relief of a refreshment trickling down your throat. The sound of a rushing stream; a wild cascade tumbling down to the rocky chasm below. The laughter when you jump into the pool. The calming rain pouring down to the earth. A morning mist; a dreadful fog. The ice on your skinned knee. The savior from the desert sun. That shimmer of dew. The salty sea breeze drifting across your face. A clean shower wiping away the sin and the sadness. The snow flake on your nose, etched in perfect design. The steam rising from a geyser. The clouds in the sky, drifting into endlessness. More than two thirds of Earth's surface. The gift. The vitality. Water.
Mod
That was beautiful. Once I get on a computer, I'll post an excerpt of my writing. :)
:) here is more:Ria rounded the corner of the chamber, shaking nervously and constantly glancing back at the bamboo entrance. She knew she wasn't supposed to be here. Why else would it be hidden and highly secured? It had to have some connection to the dream. She could feel a cold, almost alive presence, like there was an invisible clash between life and death corrupting her soul. All she had learned about safety and protection was pulling her back; all she had dreamed of adventure and magic was pushing her forward. Her dreams won.
The chamber was large and echoing. A faint, deathly green light caressed the room. Cauldrons bubbled and wands were scattered in random places, yet the room seemed neat and orderly. As she looked forward again, she saw a dark menacing hallway that had definitely not been there before. She pulled out her wand and stepped forward cautiously. There was a shrill scream, and everything went dark
***
Ria was terrified. Why had she even gone in here? What if this was where they secretly kept the bad students? She remembered when she had entered the school in the middle of the year. She had met Noah Ravenblade at the beginning of the day. When she went home he had disappeared. She had never seen him again. The idea made her shiver. She calmed herself down and slowly stood up. The tip of her wand glowed, lighting the way. Her foot crunched on something, and she winced. The entire pathway was covered in skeletons.
She looked back and saw a shimmering blue portal. Ahead of her were bands of ghosts, laughing maniacally. At a circular platform was a black wraith giving her the death glare. She remembered this place too well. This was the Spirit World.
Here is my Prologue:I walk down the long, long path, my bare feet touching the mud-crusted, recently rained on ground. Sandra walks next to me, humming a cheerful tune, her feet not muddy at all. No wonder; she has no feet; she does not even have a body. She is just a gaseous intelligent organism. She is my guard; no one escapes P. R. I. S. O. N. I continue to walk down the endless path, hearing birds chirping in the distance, not even aging. It was so strange, knowing that I would be doing this for the rest of my life, and the rest of my life was forever. The point of this punishment was not to hurt you, necessarily, but to degrade your life, bit by bit. You did a meaningless task over, and over, and over again. I tried to turn around, but could not.
That isn't actually the Prologue. I just made it up.
Mod
Julia wrote: "That was really really great, Laszlo!"Want to read something really great?
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
Mod
Twice. POTTERHEADS FOREVER!!!
Mod
“Sometimes you have to do what you have to do, no matter what the price. There’s no way to avoid it and there’s no way that anyone can ever find a way out of it. Sometimes, you must let someone go so another can be saved. It’s called sacrifice.” She slowly and wisely said, speaking from experience. “Even though they say ‘If you love something, set it free, if it returns, it’s yours, but if it doesn’t, it was never yours in the first place,’ it’s not true. You don’t choose to let something go. You have to. And it doesn’t ever come back. That’s what sacrifice is, Rhiannon.”
Mod
Screaming was all I could do. My mouth was permanently stuck in a gaping “o” shape, while my mind was only dark. Suddenly, my body slammed against cold ground, and I heard all my bones shatter.
Light started to dance around me in the distance, and a harsh, grating voice hissed out. “Mori venit tempus.” Those words echoed around the abyss, getting louder and louder with each echo, until I screamed from the pain not from my broken body, but my ears. A cruel laugh sounded around, then a jolt of pain shot through me, and I opened my eyes, as the world filled with a blinding light and everything went dark once more.
Mod
Mod
(that thing in latin... it was in the wrong order. the subject always comes first, the verb last, unless there is an infinitive or two verbs. unless venit isn't a verb...)
(oh ok I found it its Tempus Mori Venit which literally means "Time for death was coming", or "The time for death did come" but could loosely mean "The time has come to die" which I believe was what you were going for...sorry my dad is a latin teacher :]. but other than that it was totally amazing :D the second one was better)
Mod
So yeah.
Thanks'
Mod
DX Bwaaaaaaaaaaaaah DXI have 700 words left.
Mod
Chloe wrote: "DX Bwaaaaaaaaaaaaah DXI have 700 words left."
Only 700 words? That's easy!
Mod
Technically it's a rule that you have to start a new novel and can't work on your old one.
Mod
You could make it a sequal and leave your other one off on a cliffhanger.
Mod
Then you won't like my book. It got messed up by accident and is picture-book sized instead of chapter book sized, like I wanted it to be xD
Mod
The 300 pages is just a standard for my writing.
Prologue
It’s quiet in here, for once in my life. The apartment is dimly lit. Sorrowful stillness, except for the sound of our quick breaths. This cannot happen. My whole life flashes in front of me, and I can tell she feels the same way. “Libby?” asks the girl in front of me, whose long, stick-straight blonde hair (normally worn in braids or in a ponytail) was hanging over the still body. “Don’t touch him!” I squeal, unusually high-pitched. “Okay, okay.” she says, drawing her hand away. “I’m sorry. It’s just...I still don’t believe it. This whole thing, you, me, us, it’s so new and-”
She breaks of, looking unsure. I nod, and she smiles, and we go back to work.
“Is he still alive?” I ask, looking back at the black lump.
“Do you really wanna know?”
“Probably not, but we kind of should.”
“I suppose.”
She leans down and examines him. “He might still be alive, how am I supposed to be able to tell?”
“Call 911 or the doctor or a vet or Madame Pomfrey or something!” I shout, in desperation. “He can’t die. He can’t!”
“But after all he did to us-he tore us apart!” she suddenly got a shiny look of anger on her freckled face. “He doesn’t deserve to live!” Suprised at her own daring to say that, she gasps and lets it sink in. Silence falls like darkness, quickly and expertly, in an awkward sort of way.
“He sacrificed himself to sew our friendship back together.” I say, quietly. “And we need to thank him for that.”
“Don’t....Bother.” croaks the blanket-covered body in front of us, lying on the molding planks of the kitchen floor. We jump to our feet. “Y-y-you’re alive!” she stutters, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-I was just angry, I didn’t mean-”
He lifts up the blanket and I see his wrinkly face. Sadness is a deadly thing, and it’s probably what made him look so sickly. “Swear to me that you will never apologize for how you truly feel again. Swear it.”
“Okay. Okay. I swear. But, sir-”
“It’s all right. I knew my time was coming someday. Today is a fine day to become that someday.”
“No. You’re not going to die. We’re going to call 911 and you’ll be okay and we’ll be okay and our life will all be perfect-well, almost perfect, and-”
“It’s too late. Don’t miss me. I know with all my heart that you two will keep our secret. It is ours, and it shall stay ours forevermore...”
“Until the day they dig up our graves to turn it into a shopping mall.” We say as one.
He smiles. “I am leaving my knowledge in good hands. Farewell, my daughters, and know that wherever I am, whenever it is, whatever state, dead or alive-”
He closes his eyes, takes one final breath, and finishes, “I love you with all of my heart.”
On the slimy floor of apartment 365, Wickermore avenue, New York, New York, I experience the worst kind of death-not your own, but one of one who you love more than the world.
Looking over towards my sister, I see a crystal falling from her hazel eyes. No, wait-it’s a tear. My tears soon follow hers. Together, two sisters cry for the man who brought our lives through a crazy roller-coaster headfirst, but lost his grip on the biggest, fastest loop of all.
“So...what should we do now?” she chokes, breaking our 30-minute-long silent streak. “I don’t know for sure but I have a feeling he’d be angry to find that all we did after him was mourn him and stare at his body.”
She’s right. She usually is. Being the smart and sensible one and all that. Me, I’m not often right in my head, but I know in my heart I’m trying to do the right thing. And a try is better than nothing at all-right?
“How about we start planning out our future? You know, together. We can go to Cadberry’s and get cherry-nilla milkshakes and those veggie burgers you like, the Chick N’ Veg kind.”
“That is the best idea in the whole world,” I say, choosing my words carefully as if they were food on a fancy French menu. “But-why don’t we, instead of planning the future, revisit our past experiances? You can never truly understand the future until you understand the past.”
*cries* I'm losing my touch!!!!!!! Feedback would be just swell.