Ali's Next Top Author! --You need to be creative for round five!-- {{UPDATE: There's been an extension, you guys now have until May 5th}} This round, you will all be.. (;

[Amygirl8]

I got an idea for my entry a couple of days ago, so it'll probably be in later today or tomorrow

[mickey26]

I think I might have to just find a story I've written this year and post it. Things are hectic around here with the different school trips and all. I hope that's OK.

[Amygirl8]

Here it is!

Spoiler: show

‘Prom.’
Four, tiny little letters, written almost fanatically over the creamy lemon page of my diary.
It’s a perfect word- the best word in my opinion. Ever since I had started high school, I had dreamed of this night, the promises it holds and the memories it will make. Too excited to write more, I closed my diary, and put it in its special spot behind my bookshelf.

I’ve had that diary since I received it for my fourteenth birthday, coincidentally falling just one day before school started. All my thoughts, dreams and memories have been captured in it, and yet it’s still only halfway done. I’ve gone to great heights to make sure its flawless, tulip imprinted cover is unscathed, and it’s survived all these years.

I know for fact that the word I’ve written most in there is ‘prom’.
Whether it be in doodles, entries or dreams, it’s there.
And usually, it’s written just before the word ‘queen’.

• • •

The blushing lights danced across the room as the soft music hit my earring-adorned ears. ‘Once upon a time’ was the theme, so the ballroom was dressed in soft, fairy-like colours; princess-y and magical. The glittering scene simply reflected off my baby peach gown. The sight was all I could’ve hoped for.

“Hey, Annalisa!” My friend Jessica-Lynn, dubbed Jelly, called out to me. We went to this prom together, not concerned with dates or limos or whatever. Jelly knew all about my dream since the first day she met me, and she’s the best friend I could ever hope for.

We danced, we giggled, and we ate. All of our friends were here, and we had a ton of fun. I don’t think any of the rest of our grade was as crazy as we were- we started dances on the dance floor, played games with the food, and actually started a round of hide-and-seek.
It had been an awesome night. In fact, it was almost perfect. But there was only one thing that could make it so.

“Attention, attention!” The head chaperone, Mr. Alymenti, called out the crowd. I turned to face him with rapt attention.
“It is time to announce our prom king and queen!”

Yes!
Joey Guerrilson was called up for prom king. There was lots of applause, no doubt, as he was one of the most popular boys in our grade.

“Ahem,” Mr. Alymenti cleared his throat. “Time for prom queen!”

He opened up the wrinkled sheet of paper, peering at it through the lenses of his glasses.
Fingers crossed, I stared at him, only one thought racing in my mind: Is it me?

[KatieKinz8]

OK....I think I've got mine.

I'm taking a slightly different approach to this one. Sorry if it's too long.

For me, the best cliffhanger is one that is really, really, REALLY intense.

Spoiler: show

Attack of the Doom Kingdom
by KatieKinz8

I am King Johnathan Bomar IV. I rule over my people, the noble Kingdom of Gountar. I rule alongside my wife, Queen Penelope Bomar. Usually we are a very peaceful people...except once every hundred years, sometime in October. In the middle of the night, on a date unpredictable by the Gountar Council, we are attacked mercilessly by the deplorable Kingdom of Doom.

Why? Nobody knows! We've tried to ask them, or gather some kind of information on the reasoning of their attacks, but they're just....evil. But they do keep telling us they've been looking for something, and didn't find it in the last kingdom's citizens. They are now "searching for it in my Kingdom's inhabitants". Nobody can figure out what that means.

We'd move away, but we've got Death Swamp to the north of us, miles upon miles of desert to the south of us, a sheer cliff into the sea to the east of us, and of course, the Doom Kingdom to the west.

Go ahead! Yell at me for picking a bad place to move. When we came here 500 years ago, the desert was green and flourishing, Death Swamp didn't have the animals that make it what it is, and Doom Kingdom didn't live here. They only came here because they had wiped out the last kingdom they were picking on, and had to find new victims.



Lately, they've been sending us mysterious letters. The first one said,

"King Johnathan Bomar IV, we offer you a treaty.

We plan to completely wipe out your kingdom. This can be evaded if you send us your son. He has what we desire. Give him to us, and we shall never disturb your kingdom again.

- Lord Doom"

At first I didn't believe him, but then I saw the seal below the signature:



This was the Doom Mask Seal of Ultimate Oath. It was a special seal that only appeared on Doom Kingdom's letters when they really really truly really meant what they said. It was a seal I could always trust. They would use it to tell lies if they could, but they're under a wizard's spell to use it for the truth only. Unfortunately they are so evil that this was the only spell the wizard could cast on them.

Bummer.


I wrote a letter back:

"Lord Doom,

I must know your intentions before I consider your offer. I must know what you will do to my son, and why you need him. I need to know that he will be safe.

- King Johnathan Bomar IV"

Days later I received a copy of the letter he had already sent me:

"King Johnathan Bomar IV, we offer you a treaty.

We plan to completely wipe out your kingdom. This can be evaded if you send us your son. He has what we desire. Give him to us, and we shall never disturb your kingdom again.

- Lord Doom

"

After that, I continued asking him and writing letters to him demanding an explanation.

I just got the same ridiculous letter over and over again.

I now have 30 copies of the same letter, neatly stacked and sitting in my rusty bottom drawer.



That evening I talked to my son. His name? Prince Falian, only 11 years of age--barely old enough to go into battle. I've always been very close to him--I mean, his mother Penelope, and I, both love him dearly, but I've always shared the special father-son bond. People say we've been closer than anyone can ever imagine--partly because he is an only child, and partly because....well, we've always been there for each other.

I told him for the first time about the letters I'd been getting. I explained the mysterious part about them wanting something, and...him having it.

He just stared, his eyes huge and wide.

"Dad...." he said in his tiny voice, "I think I know what they want."

I was intrigued.

"What is it, son?"

"It's......a s-special p-p-power."

"What kind of power?"

"I can't tell you...if I do........"

His eyes welled up with tears, and he immediately got up and ran to his bedroom...just as his mother announced that the maids had dinner ready.


That night, the Doom Kingdom moved toward my village to invade it. Our soldiers, knowing the time was coming, were prepared. They got up and met the enemy in Blood Field, before they were able to enter the town.

This huge field was where the battle would take place.

Unfortunately, according to strict unchangeable law, all males 10 to 40 years of age were called to fight. I was so sick of this law. But I couldn't change it--it was set by the kings of old. I was glad Falian had had plenty of battle training in the last two years, having already fought in four battles, and that I could be on the battlefield with him, but I was still worried sick for my precious boy.

Feeling desperate, I got into my armor and prepared myself and him for battle.

"Fight hard, and never give in. Remember: I love you."

That was all I could tell him. I was so sick and insane from worry I felt I would implode if I said anything else.

(Sorry...I'm just.....*sniff*......sorry. I need a minute....sorry.)

--------------------------------------------------------

The moon was full, and gave us enough eerie light so that we could just see our enemy. We fought hard--it was about two hours, but felt like a grueling 8 or so.

There was not much to describe. It was long, dreary, and exhausting. I killed plenty of bad guys, but I didn't get the same satisfaction I would usually get from it. I looked everywhere for Falian, but he was so little, and there were so many soldiers fighting, I couldn't find him anywhere.

I looked around, a little wet, my armor dented, panting and wounded badly in my arm, realizing we were losing. My soldiers were being killed by the dozen. Already Doom Kingdom prepared to invade my village. This time, my Kingdom really was going to be wiped out.

Suddenly...

There was a huge explosion of purple light spewing from the very center of the battlefield. Everyone stopped fighting. As the light faded, the enemy...retreated. They ran like silent shadows from the fight, trampling the already smooshed and bloodstained grass.

The soldiers didn't let up a cry of victory like they normally would have--they were too shocked.

I ran to the center of the battlefield, and saw Falian lying there.

I crouched quickly beside him, ready to cry, desperate to know if he was alive.

I reached my fingers to his neck to feel for a pulse...

[WackyZingoz211]

Why am I having so much trouble coming up with an idea for this?

[Craftyreader]

Originally Posted by SheWhoWrites

I apologize that this entry is rather lengthy . . . I had meant to stop writing several places, as the said cliffhanger would have been accomplished, but I just couldn't! I felt like if I did stop, and then add to it later on, the piece would have lost its bravado. xD lol

Spoiler: show

There stood the two relatives, shaking in the cold of obscurity, sea air seeping into their nostrils. A glowing lantern, apart from their bickering, was the only indication of inhabitation near the wharf.

“Come now, Leeman, you must be tired. Forget all this nonsense, and warm yourself with a cup of tea.”

“Uncle, please!” The lad scoffed distastefully and looked away.

Shaking his wrinkled head, the man left his nephew to his own foolish thoughts. His lashes bat out the dust of the cobblestone streets as he hobbled on his cane into the shadows. Leeman reconfigured the steps of his devious plot. Bending down, he removed a crumpled piece of parchment from the sole of his boot.

“Wait, Leeman!” An echo drafted through the dock planks.

Leeman smiled, “Old man, go rest your aching bones and leave me be.”

“Listen to me, Leeman!” The voiced seemed to grow in volume.

“Will you never stop?” The boy stayed positioned on the dock, gazing out onto the sea.

“Woe onto those who follow the paths of evil!”

Leeman pursed his lips, trying to devise just the right tactic. Instead, he clenched his gold pocket watch and begun to nervously polish it.

“Ignoring fate shall only bring more upon you.” Still the thing pried, as sprinkling bits of sand upon a flame slowly destroys it.

“My Uncle seems to share the same views as yourself, why don’t you pay him a visit, if you’re not who I think you are.”
It was then that the sound did not answer.

Leeman’s fingers stroked the shimmering watch, now laundered. It read 12:43 a.m.Tapping his foot impatiently against the wooden dock beams, the boy waited. Before long, he began to pace back and forth along the berth. In a matter of minutes, if action wasn’t taken, the moment would pass. The assignment would unbutton.

“Leeman! Oh Leeman! Be that you?” A porter scrambled to where he stood.

“Do you have the list?”. . . Came his gruff reply.

“Oh, of course. Excuse me.” He handed Leeman an encasement that hung at his side. Discreetly unrolling the sheet, Leeman scanned the paper. The legibility of the writing had diminished, water painting the canvas, spouting ink across the page.

“Did you bathe with it Chan?”

“No! Why-” The porter’s shoulders drooped.

“Come now Chauncey, we must find other means of reading this, this, thing!”

----------------------------------------

Soon the g.ay noises of a tavern drummed in the two’s ears. “Bayard seems to take to this forsaken place. Perhaps he be inside intoxicating his intellect with rum and cards?”, Chauncey reasoned.

“Aye. Tis him mingling with the lass yonder.”

True to his common carriage, Bayard leaned against the back door handle, about a six foot length span from them, dumbly winking. Heads held high in self respect, Leeman and Chauncey approached him, but with a fair amount of caution.

“’What should we say? That we can’t understand his letter?” Chauncey sheepishly caught Bayard’s glance.

The man had caught wind of their conversation. Glumly placing his finger-printed glass on a nearby table, he motioned for them to follow. Pressuring the door to withstand his weight, it swung open, allowing the dimmed alley to close its jaws upon them.

“What are you two doing here?”, he snapped impatiently.

Chan stammered profusely, allowing Leeman the chance to interrupt.“Here.” He thrust the weather-beaten scroll into his arms.

Bayard hummed his disapproval. “I hired you, Leeman, to do what I cannot. Now I see that you yourself are incapable of it as well.”

He clattered to the rear aperture, scraping rust off its hinges. “I’m fond of you, son. But mark my words. Success is beneficial. Failure is not.” Dropping a crumpled ball of stationary to the ground, the passage fastened to a close and Bayard was gone.

Chauncey timidly stooped down to examine the thing.“Some sort of message, a code perchance!”

Peering dubiously over his forearm, Leeman read aloud:

Two o’clock be the time, to avenge thy father’s passing
Take flight with winged feet, to the livery Main
Revenge so foul, full of hate . . . just down the lane

Chauncey looked at Leeman inquiringly. Flipping the thin sheet over, he scanned the page, hoping for any further directions, but to no avail.

Leeman put a hand underneath his chin. “Uncle told me my father died at sea . . .”

“What about your mothe-“ Chauncey began, alas Leeman cut the poor porter’s sentence short with a foul remark. Muttering something solemnly, Chan threw up his hands.

“I blame myself for this.”Leeman stood up, clearly aggravated.

“But think of the money, Lee, the money! I know what I shall do with my share.”

Staring at his friend, the young Leeman furrowed his brow. “Is it worth killing for?”

Despite his inward feelings of contempt, he took Chan by the arm, and began to walk in direction of the livery. “The war be bringing in wanderers. This town’s nervous as it is. The stable is on strict watch. No one is allowed to leave here, or come in without sound reason. This alleged murderer would have had to resist law.”

“Unless,“ Chan gulped resolutely, “he did have a sound reason.””

Leeman wordlessly turned in an easterly direction; obviously still making for the livery.

As they neared the wooden plank door to the livery, Leeman cautiously peered along the rim. His ears picked up a stray conversation between a stable boy and another deep voice, belonging to no one familiar.

“Renting any horses, lad?”

“No sir, after all, they be no use to any living soul here to Arching dale.”

“Tis no use? They be of good use to me, boy. What say you to a double price paid for that mare yonder?” He pointed a finger to a chestnut horse, busily wharfing down brittle feed.

“She be Sir Cabael’s filly. N-n-not to be ridden.”

“And why? Tis a shame to let her muscular legs grow weak due to an owner’s neglect.”

“I just be saying what I be told to, Sir.”

“Ah, that’s what I like, a boy who listens to his authority. A fair quality in a growing lad, tis. Where would I find dear, old Mister Cabael lad? Down toward the tavern? Ah, no. Too fine a man be Cabael to drink. The blacksmith? No, tis not open this time of night. Perhaps to the merchant’s? Do speak up boy! Where darest Cabael hide his worthless wretch?”

Gulping down his wit and sense, the other participant of this conversation replied, “Believe he said we could find him near Center Hall. Campaigning against tax on tea, it was.”

“Many thanks, lad. I’ll be sure an’ consult ye in future time.”

The burly voice eagerly left, whistling a merry tune. Leeman consulted his watch, yet again. “It be 1: 34, Chan. Time’s running out.”

“Hadn’t we ought to follow that man?” The gangly accomplice pointed to the whistling being, now turning the bend.

Leeman returned Chauncey’s pitiful whimpers chuckles with a grunt. Leaping from behind the door, they portrayed the act of a sneaking tom cat, sleeking and darting through the night.

----------------------------------------

“Must we wait? I want all of this to be over and done with.” Chan whispered to his companion, both listening casually to Isaac Cabael’s speech.

“Hush, Chauncey. I want to listen.” He elbowed him gently.

Isaac spoke in a loud and booming voice, rebelling against tax on tea. “Ahh Taxes! Ha, Taxes! A man can’t let this happen! Paying extra for tea, the miserable kind! I say to ye, be there a man here ‘night who darest to disagree with this preposition? Aye, is there?”

Not a soul appeared to be brave enough to disagree with this rich delegate. Instead a loud cheer was thrust upon the ears of those in the room, and fists pumped up and down, waving through the air.

“I’ve had enough. Farwell and good luck to ye, Leeman.” Chauncey intended on retracing his steps back home to a warm, lavished, late night dinner, when Leeman’s cutting glance shook what lay beneath his skin.

“Do hurry then. I don’t know how long I can stomach this.” With the mannerisms of but a wee child, the porter sulked grudgingly, eyes fixed straight ahead, tapping his booted foot on the oak beams.

“Come one, come all and celebrate our great fortune in conquering this tax nonsense!” Raising afeeble and bony right arm, this leader raised his glass in triumph, portraying his hearty attitude.

“What do ye say to this?” The voice of the whistling one rang in their ears, joined with the smashing of glass against the wooden furniture.

“Surely Sir, I wish no violence to emerge!” Cabael puffed out his chest, revealing the fine craftsmanship of his tailor.

“ Humph!”

Now the once agreeable crowd seemed bewildered.

“Kind Sir, I don’t want to start another revolution in this hall. You may state to me your residing conflicts at another time, and might I say . . . place.” Cabael said in a retreating tone, obviously feeling embarrassed over the current turn of events.

“Don’t call me kind. You’ll find that I am not.” This giant of a man came back at our spoiled sir, arousing a commotion amongst the spectators.

Isaac cleared his throat, raising his wine glass in a nervous form of imitated calmness. “Shall we men, drink to our good fortune?”

“Ha! Good fortune. Pah! Good fortune.” Now the whistler simply mumbled to himself, hiding his fury for the moment. He seemed to have surrendered to Cabael’s misused power, seating himself, merely feet away from our Leeman and Chauncey.

“Talk to him Chan.” Leeman gave a little tap to his friend’s backside, urging him forward.

“By God’s grace I most strongly refuse.” He spat with a knowledgeable tongue. “You talk to him.”

Squinting, Lee casually walked toward this angry, giant of a man. He wasn’t quite sure as to how to attract his attention, not knowing whether a polite poke on the shoulder would be best, or if that would only succeed in his fate.

Deciding to take the gentleman’s approach, Lee ever so faintly tapped the man’s shoulder blade, wincing after he had done so. It whipped around to meet its challenger. The wood on wood sound the chair created with the floor echoed throughout the room. No one seemed to notice the two, even though

Leeman felt as if all eyes lay on them.

“You’re one of the scoundrels were spyin’ on me down t’ward the livery. Where hides your skittish mate?” The whistling oddity glared knowingly into
Leeman’s eyes, his own being of the deepest darkest black. No color gleamed within them, not a blue, green, brown, or a devil’s red. A cold, stony, black glared back at the boy, forcing him to stammer and add errs and ums into his normally clear speech.

So yes. Feel free to skim if you so desire.

Thank you for getting that in. It's fine. (:
I have a habit of skimming over the entries, but when it comes judging time, I read every bit of it, I promise.

Originally Posted by mickey26

I think I might have to just find a story I've written this year and post it. Things are hectic around here with the different school trips and all. I hope that's OK.

That's perfectly fine! If you need more time, don't be afraid to ask.
I understand & I can work out something if you need me to.

Originally Posted by Amygirl8

Here it is!

Spoiler: show

‘Prom.’
Four, tiny little letters, written almost fanatically over the creamy lemon page of my diary.
It’s a perfect word- the best word in my opinion. Ever since I had started high school, I had dreamed of this night, the promises it holds and the memories it will make. Too excited to write more, I closed my diary, and put it in its special spot behind my bookshelf.

I’ve had that diary since I received it for my fourteenth birthday, coincidentally falling just one day before school started. All my thoughts, dreams and memories have been captured in it, and yet it’s still only halfway done. I’ve gone to great heights to make sure its flawless, tulip imprinted cover is unscathed, and it’s survived all these years.

I know for fact that the word I’ve written most in there is ‘prom’.
Whether it be in doodles, entries or dreams, it’s there.
And usually, it’s written just before the word ‘queen’.

• • •

The blushing lights danced across the room as the soft music hit my earring-adorned ears. ‘Once upon a time’ was the theme, so the ballroom was dressed in soft, fairy-like colours; princess-y and magical. The glittering scene simply reflected off my baby peach gown. The sight was all I could’ve hoped for.

“Hey, Annalisa!” My friend Jessica-Lynn, dubbed Jelly, called out to me. We went to this prom together, not concerned with dates or limos or whatever. Jelly knew all about my dream since the first day she met me, and she’s the best friend I could ever hope for.

We danced, we giggled, and we ate. All of our friends were here, and we had a ton of fun. I don’t think any of the rest of our grade was as crazy as we were- we started dances on the dance floor, played games with the food, and actually started a round of hide-and-seek.
It had been an awesome night. In fact, it was almost perfect. But there was only one thing that could make it so.

“Attention, attention!” The head chaperone, Mr. Alymenti, called out the crowd. I turned to face him with rapt attention.
“It is time to announce our prom king and queen!”

Yes!
Joey Guerrilson was called up for prom king. There was lots of applause, no doubt, as he was one of the most popular boys in our grade.

“Ahem,” Mr. Alymenti cleared his throat. “Time for prom queen!”

He opened up the wrinkled sheet of paper, peering at it through the lenses of his glasses.
Fingers crossed, I stared at him, only one thought racing in my mind: Is it me?

Ahh, very good! Thanks for getting that in. (:

Originally Posted by KatieKinz8

OK....I think I've got mine.

I'm taking a slightly different approach to this one. Sorry if it's too long.

For me, the best cliffhanger is one that is really, really, REALLY intense.

Spoiler: show

Attack of the Doom Kingdom

Spoiler: show

by KatieKinz8


I am King Johnathan Bomar IV. I rule over my people, the noble Kingdom of Gountar. I rule alongside my wife, Queen Penelope Bomar. Usually we are a very peaceful people...except once every hundred years, sometime in October. In the middle of the night, on a date unpredictable by the Gountar Council, we are attacked mercilessly by the deplorable Kingdom of Doom.

Why? Nobody knows! We've tried to ask them, or gather some kind of information on the reasoning of their attacks, but they're just....evil. But they do keep telling us they've been looking for something, and didn't find it in the last kingdom's citizens. They are now "searching for it in my Kingdom's inhabitants". Nobody can figure out what that means.

We'd move away, but we've got Death Swamp to the north of us, miles upon miles of desert to the south of us, a sheer cliff into the sea to the east of us, and of course, the Doom Kingdom to the west.

Go ahead! Yell at me for picking a bad place to move. When we came here 500 years ago, the desert was green and flourishing, Death Swamp didn't have the animals that make it what it is, and Doom Kingdom didn't live here. They only came here because they had wiped out the last kingdom they were picking on, and had to find new victims.



Lately, they've been sending us mysterious letters. The first one said,

"King Johnathan Bomar IV, we offer you a treaty.

We plan to completely wipe out your kingdom. This can be evaded if you send us your son. He has what we desire. Give him to us, and we shall never disturb your kingdom again.

- Lord Doom"

At first I didn't believe him, but then I saw the seal below the signature:



This was the Doom Mask Seal of Ultimate Oath. It was a special seal that only appeared on Doom Kingdom's letters when they really really truly really meant what they said. It was a seal I could always trust. They would use it to tell lies if they could, but they're under a wizard's spell to use it for the truth only. Unfortunately they are so evil that this was the only spell the wizard could cast on them.

Bummer.


I wrote a letter back:

"Lord Doom,

I must know your intentions before I consider your offer. I must know what you will do to my son, and why you need him. I need to know that he will be safe.

- King Johnathan Bomar IV"

Days later I received a copy of the letter he had already sent me:

"King Johnathan Bomar IV, we offer you a treaty.

We plan to completely wipe out your kingdom. This can be evaded if you send us your son. He has what we desire. Give him to us, and we shall never disturb your kingdom again.

- Lord Doom

"

After that, I continued asking him and writing letters to him demanding an explanation.

I just got the same ridiculous letter over and over again.

I now have 30 copies of the same letter, neatly stacked and sitting in my rusty bottom drawer.



That evening I talked to my son. His name? Prince Falian, only 11 years of age--barely old enough to go into battle. I've always been very close to him--I mean, his mother Penelope, and I, both love him dearly, but I've always shared the special father-son bond. People say we've been closer than anyone can ever imagine--partly because he is an only child, and partly because....well, we've always been there for each other.

I told him for the first time about the letters I'd been getting. I explained the mysterious part about them wanting something, and...him having it.

He just stared, his eyes huge and wide.

"Dad...." he said in his tiny voice, "I think I know what they want."

I was intrigued.

"What is it, son?"

"It's......a s-special p-p-power."

"What kind of power?"

"I can't tell you...if I do........"

His eyes welled up with tears, and he immediately got up and ran to his bedroom...just as his mother announced that the maids had dinner ready.


That night, the Doom Kingdom moved toward my village to invade it. Our soldiers, knowing the time was coming, were prepared. They got up and met the enemy in Blood Field, before they were able to enter the town.

This huge field was where the battle would take place.

Unfortunately, according to strict unchangeable law, all males 10 to 40 years of age were called to fight. I was so sick of this law. But I couldn't change it--it was set by the kings of old. I was glad Falian had had plenty of battle training in the last two years, having already fought in four battles, and that I could be on the battlefield with him, but I was still worried sick for my precious boy.

Feeling desperate, I got into my armor and prepared myself and him for battle.

"Fight hard, and never give in. Remember: I love you."

That was all I could tell him. I was so sick and insane from worry I felt I would implode if I said anything else.

(Sorry...I'm just.....*sniff*......sorry. I need a minute....sorry.)

--------------------------------------------------------

The moon was full, and gave us enough eerie light so that we could just see our enemy. We fought hard--it was about two hours, but felt like a grueling 8 or so.

There was not much to describe. It was long, dreary, and exhausting. I killed plenty of bad guys, but I didn't get the same satisfaction I would usually get from it. I looked everywhere for Falian, but he was so little, and there were so many soldiers fighting, I couldn't find him anywhere.

I looked around, a little wet, my armor dented, panting and wounded badly in my arm, realizing we were losing. My soldiers were being killed by the dozen. Already Doom Kingdom prepared to invade my village. This time, my Kingdom really was going to be wiped out.

Suddenly...

There was a huge explosion of purple light spewing from the very center of the battlefield. Everyone stopped fighting. As the light faded, the enemy...retreated. They ran like silent shadows from the fight, trampling the already smooshed and bloodstained grass.

The soldiers didn't let up a cry of victory like they normally would have--they were too shocked.

I ran to the center of the battlefield, and saw Falian lying there.

I crouched quickly beside him, ready to cry, desperate to know if he was alive.


I reached my fingers to his neck to feel for a pulse...

Wow. That is intense, very intense. And also very good.
Thank you for getting that in. (;

Originally Posted by WackyZingoz211

Why am I having so much trouble coming up with an idea for this?

I'm sorry. D:
Remember, you can use something from another book of yours or a website if you have to.

[KatieKinz8]

Originally Posted by Craftyreader

once again, i'm sorry about odd spacing. and extra, un-needed spoilers.

it's a very annoying glitch in my opinion & i'm sure you all agree.

Looking at the way the BB coding is set...it looks like you're using FireFox or IE?

You can use Google Chrome and take manual control of your BB coding...that should help

Spoiler: show

your

Spoiler: show

spoiler

Spoiler: show

problem.

Spoiler: show

[Craftyreader]

Ahh, yes, I'm using Internet Explorer.
I don't have Google Chrome. \:

[KatieKinz8]

One thing you could try:

type up manually [SPOILER]whatever you want[/SPOILER.] (without the dot) instead of pressing the button? I know the formatting appears already when typing IE, but some of the manual BB coding--like spoilers--still works.

And it doesn't take as long as you think. I type up a lot of really cool and complicated format posts using manual (type it out) BB coding and the quick reply box.

[Craftyreader]

I actually did that.