Time to write!
While driving to pick up lunch, you accidentally bump into the car in front of you—a light fender bender—that pops open the other car’s trunk. When you get out to assess the damage, you notice that the driver of the other car is none other than your favorite actor. More important, you notice a dead body in the trunk. Who is the actor and what elaborate excuse does he give you to explain the dead body in his trunk?
"Well this is just my luck!" I angrily exclaimed. I was already late for my appointment with Mr. Garber, now had yogurt all over my new dress (that's what you get for eating in the car, people) and now I had to sit and wait for the cops to show up.
The other car wasn't even damaged, I'd only bumped them really but it was in the middle of an intersection and I knew it was going to create much more of a to-do than it was worth. I shut off my engine and in irritation got out of my car.
"Hey, I'm sorry about hitting your car," I began as I approached the driver's side window of the silver Mercedes.
Except when I got to the window I realized that the driver of the car was none other than Orlando Bloom, in all his high-cheek boned glory, so all that really came out was "Hey, I'm sorry about...what the wow...hmm?"
I was beyond surprised to see the famous actor sitting there, right before my eyes.
Several thoughts flitted through my head, in rapid succession, like a madman with a machine gun.
Why is Orlando Bloom in Utah?
Don't celebrities normally drive nicer cars?
Don't celebrities normally have other people drive those nicer cars for them?
Why isn't there some sort of woman with him?
I'm a woman.
And there's yogurt on my dress.
Kill me now.
Only after that last thought flashed through my mind did my mind register the sight I'd seen when walking to the window. The trunk of the car had been open. It must have happened when I, er, gently nosed the back of his car with mine. But the trunk hadn't been vacant. What had looked suspiciously like a dead body- if my years of watching Psych and Criminal Minds could guide me correctly- had been laid in the trunk, and only half covered with a light blue sheet.
"No need to apologize," Orlando said, smiling in that way that made girls all over America swoon over the man. "But I'm afraid you need to close my trunk, then get in the car, before the police arrive. Think you can manage that?"
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Looks
Time to write!
I'm aware that this will hail to the "Uglies" series by Scott Westerfield but I still want to write this and am convinced that if I continued I could twist it up.
In a world where everyone is beautiful, no one really is. When everyone looks the same, physical attraction dies away. A world which once prized individuality is lost, and suddenly the idea of arranged marriages is no longer so archaic.
This is the world I live in. My name is Emma Crane. I have black hair that falls to the bottom of my shoulder blades, cut straight across, with bangs that swoop strongly to the left to hide the fluffy hairs that always want to frizz up on my left temple. My eyes are green and what you would call wide-set. I would not call them wide-set, nor would anyone else in Unisity, because all of our eyes are the same distance apart. My mother's eyes are also green. So are my sister's. Same as the eyes of all my female classmates. And their mothers and sisters. My nose, like everyone else's, is mostly straight but turns up just slightly at the end to appear "perky", and my cheeckbones are high and naturally pink.
I take no pride in my thin physique caused by my naturally high metabolism, and I find no joy in what would be considered "perfect" proportions, because here, "perfect" is simply status quo. In the entire city, there is a weight range of ten pounds and a height range of five inches.
When Unisity's scientists first began doing their genetic engineering experiments on willing participants, outsiders called them mad scientists or unethical cloners. But we are not clones. We are merely all created to look like one another, to form a society of perfect beauty.
I want to write about how the concept of "beauty is in the eye of the beholder" is no longer relevant, and about Emma's finace and about the plot but I'm too tired to write anymore now. I like the idea we have going here though.
I'm aware that this will hail to the "Uglies" series by Scott Westerfield but I still want to write this and am convinced that if I continued I could twist it up.
In a world where everyone is beautiful, no one really is. When everyone looks the same, physical attraction dies away. A world which once prized individuality is lost, and suddenly the idea of arranged marriages is no longer so archaic.
This is the world I live in. My name is Emma Crane. I have black hair that falls to the bottom of my shoulder blades, cut straight across, with bangs that swoop strongly to the left to hide the fluffy hairs that always want to frizz up on my left temple. My eyes are green and what you would call wide-set. I would not call them wide-set, nor would anyone else in Unisity, because all of our eyes are the same distance apart. My mother's eyes are also green. So are my sister's. Same as the eyes of all my female classmates. And their mothers and sisters. My nose, like everyone else's, is mostly straight but turns up just slightly at the end to appear "perky", and my cheeckbones are high and naturally pink.
I take no pride in my thin physique caused by my naturally high metabolism, and I find no joy in what would be considered "perfect" proportions, because here, "perfect" is simply status quo. In the entire city, there is a weight range of ten pounds and a height range of five inches.
When Unisity's scientists first began doing their genetic engineering experiments on willing participants, outsiders called them mad scientists or unethical cloners. But we are not clones. We are merely all created to look like one another, to form a society of perfect beauty.
I want to write about how the concept of "beauty is in the eye of the beholder" is no longer relevant, and about Emma's finace and about the plot but I'm too tired to write anymore now. I like the idea we have going here though.
Monday, November 26, 2012
Elves
Time to write!
So...Thanksgiving break proved to be the nemesis of productive writing. Somehow instead of effectively using my time writing essays and then delving into some complex character organization, I found myself watching several episodes of The Office and taking long naps. BUT. Here I am ready to update, and with every intention of NOT using time so poorly for the next few weeks, which are not only bound but flat out guaranteed to be insane.
It is entertaining, truly, to see what humans think about us. About any of us. If you mention an "elf" to any given person this image could conjure up any number of images.
One person may think of Tolkien's pointy-eared, long-haired, singing archers.
Another may imagine Santa Claus's little helpers, complete with round bellies, strange names, jingle-belled hats and rather often fluffy beards.
Then you have the Elves and the Shoemaker elves, which obviously were small enough to fit inside a shoe but fast enough sewers to complete multiple pairs of shoes several times their size in a single night.
There have been more modern interpretations, making elves strange colors, or possessing strange diets.
Some elves are peaceful and wise, others are silly and uninvolved, yet others are violent and veer on gruesome.
What would you do if someone told you that elves are actually very real, and that they're all around you?
You most likely would not believe them. This is because you can't see us. Because elves aren't any of those things which humans have worked to portray us as. Elves are invisible to all humans but the Seers, and sometimes generations pass between those.
Indeed, almost four hundred years passed during which time the Elvin League had almost adapted to a life without human interference when we were discovered by three Seers at once, an anomaly which tells us that not only are times changing, but something dark is coming.
So...Thanksgiving break proved to be the nemesis of productive writing. Somehow instead of effectively using my time writing essays and then delving into some complex character organization, I found myself watching several episodes of The Office and taking long naps. BUT. Here I am ready to update, and with every intention of NOT using time so poorly for the next few weeks, which are not only bound but flat out guaranteed to be insane.
It is entertaining, truly, to see what humans think about us. About any of us. If you mention an "elf" to any given person this image could conjure up any number of images.
One person may think of Tolkien's pointy-eared, long-haired, singing archers.
Another may imagine Santa Claus's little helpers, complete with round bellies, strange names, jingle-belled hats and rather often fluffy beards.
Then you have the Elves and the Shoemaker elves, which obviously were small enough to fit inside a shoe but fast enough sewers to complete multiple pairs of shoes several times their size in a single night.
There have been more modern interpretations, making elves strange colors, or possessing strange diets.
Some elves are peaceful and wise, others are silly and uninvolved, yet others are violent and veer on gruesome.
What would you do if someone told you that elves are actually very real, and that they're all around you?
You most likely would not believe them. This is because you can't see us. Because elves aren't any of those things which humans have worked to portray us as. Elves are invisible to all humans but the Seers, and sometimes generations pass between those.
Indeed, almost four hundred years passed during which time the Elvin League had almost adapted to a life without human interference when we were discovered by three Seers at once, an anomaly which tells us that not only are times changing, but something dark is coming.
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
On File
Time to write!
Name: Reagan Willis
Age: 16 years, 2 months, 3 days
Height: 5' 5''
Weight: 119 lbs
GPA: 3.25
Underneath the information were small blue arrows, one pointing right, the other pointing left. By looking to one side or the other and blinking twice for confirmation the words would scroll in the direction indicated and display a new sheet of information.
Parents: Janice Copland, Bill Willis
Siblings: Gareth (18), Sears (14), Trillith (8)
Occupation: Waitress
Relationship Status: Single
It was like having your social network page on file for everyone to see. Literally everyone. There was no "friends" or even "friends of friends" option.
You also couldn't limit what was there. You couldn't "untag" yourself, so to speak, or choose to keep your middle name or birthday private. If you were in a relationship that you didn't want your mother to know about, that was just too bad. She knew. Within minutes of you walking in the door after holding hands for the first time. So what if it wasn't official? It was on file.
They floated a few inches above the head. You could choose not to see them, if you avoided looking directly at them. Rumors say that once, back when technology was so obsolete that you hold to actually hold or touch devices in order to use them, when you were first introduced to someone it was customary to look them in the eye. Now you only looked a person in the eye if you were already good friends and you knew their data sheets by heart, and even then it was more than normal to glance back up to see if anything had changed since the last time you'd talked.
Name: Reagan Willis
Age: 16 years, 2 months, 3 days
Height: 5' 5''
Weight: 119 lbs
GPA: 3.25
Underneath the information were small blue arrows, one pointing right, the other pointing left. By looking to one side or the other and blinking twice for confirmation the words would scroll in the direction indicated and display a new sheet of information.
Parents: Janice Copland, Bill Willis
Siblings: Gareth (18), Sears (14), Trillith (8)
Occupation: Waitress
Relationship Status: Single
It was like having your social network page on file for everyone to see. Literally everyone. There was no "friends" or even "friends of friends" option.
You also couldn't limit what was there. You couldn't "untag" yourself, so to speak, or choose to keep your middle name or birthday private. If you were in a relationship that you didn't want your mother to know about, that was just too bad. She knew. Within minutes of you walking in the door after holding hands for the first time. So what if it wasn't official? It was on file.
They floated a few inches above the head. You could choose not to see them, if you avoided looking directly at them. Rumors say that once, back when technology was so obsolete that you hold to actually hold or touch devices in order to use them, when you were first introduced to someone it was customary to look them in the eye. Now you only looked a person in the eye if you were already good friends and you knew their data sheets by heart, and even then it was more than normal to glance back up to see if anything had changed since the last time you'd talked.
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Paddington Academy
Time to write!
Sorry, I know I've missed a couple days. I've been ill and sleeping every spare minute. I just now got up to use the loo and decided to do a quick five minute-r so that I don't get in the bad habit of not updating (sorry mom-literally five minutes!)
Cherise was under no delusion that her first day at Paddington Academy was going to be normal. She knew it was a school for those with "special talents". Special enough that they weren't appreciated by normal society. From an extremely optimistic point of view, Cherise supposed that one could look at it as a school for Superheroes. Unfortunately, the more common way of approaching Paddington Academy was resigning yourself as an outcast- an alumnus at a school for freaks.
Going to Paddington Academy wasn't a choice. It wasn't something "gifted" children looked forward to, or that "gifted" parents hoped their kids would one day attend.
Paddington Academy was an institution. It's stone walls, barred windows, heavy wooden doors with triple enforced locks, and special detainment facilities awaited only those whom the government deemed unfit to be around civilian people.
You were sent to Paddington Academy not because anyone really believed you were special, or talented, or gifted. You were sent because someone believed you were dangerous. A threat. A menace. You weren't placed in the rolls of Paddington Academy because somebody hoped you would someday save the world. Rather that you might someday endanger it.
Sorry, I know I've missed a couple days. I've been ill and sleeping every spare minute. I just now got up to use the loo and decided to do a quick five minute-r so that I don't get in the bad habit of not updating (sorry mom-literally five minutes!)
Cherise was under no delusion that her first day at Paddington Academy was going to be normal. She knew it was a school for those with "special talents". Special enough that they weren't appreciated by normal society. From an extremely optimistic point of view, Cherise supposed that one could look at it as a school for Superheroes. Unfortunately, the more common way of approaching Paddington Academy was resigning yourself as an outcast- an alumnus at a school for freaks.
Going to Paddington Academy wasn't a choice. It wasn't something "gifted" children looked forward to, or that "gifted" parents hoped their kids would one day attend.
Paddington Academy was an institution. It's stone walls, barred windows, heavy wooden doors with triple enforced locks, and special detainment facilities awaited only those whom the government deemed unfit to be around civilian people.
You were sent to Paddington Academy not because anyone really believed you were special, or talented, or gifted. You were sent because someone believed you were dangerous. A threat. A menace. You weren't placed in the rolls of Paddington Academy because somebody hoped you would someday save the world. Rather that you might someday endanger it.
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Just Say It
Time to write!
Write an all dialogue story-nothing can be said beside what the characters are saying.
Her dialogue will be written in black!
His dialogue will be written in green.
What a colorful page this will be!!
Don't touch me.
I wouldn't want to anyway! Now that I know what you are.
Riiiight. Like I'm the freak. Like I'm the one that needs to be avoided.
What? Aren't you?
I knew we were different from the start! I didn't push you away! I didn't treat you like scum, just because I knew our lives would always be different!
Well maybe you should've!
Maybe.
Does it bother you Enda?
The fact that I fell in love with a complete moron? Yes.
No. The fact that you live a lie.
I don't live a lie! I'm comfortable with who I am! I know who I am! I accept who I am! It's you that lives in this constant state of denial-too afraid to trust who you are or to trust your own feelings.
You want to talk about trust now? You want to talk about trust? How about the fact that I trusted you? Were you planning on telling me your little secret? To letting me in on the joke?
It isn't a joke! And yes, I was planning on telling you, but I wanted to wait until it was the right time.
How about from the beginning?
Ha! Clearly wouldn't have been the right time. That's kind of clear from your reaction right now!
What makes you think that dragging out this lie any longer would somehow make it better later?
Because it isn't a lie. It's a shield, maybe, but it's still me. It was always me.
Maybe then, but not anymore.
What do you mean?
It was always you. But it never will be you again.
BUT WHAT IS SHE??
Write an all dialogue story-nothing can be said beside what the characters are saying.
Her dialogue will be written in black!
His dialogue will be written in green.
What a colorful page this will be!!
Don't touch me.
I wouldn't want to anyway! Now that I know what you are.
Riiiight. Like I'm the freak. Like I'm the one that needs to be avoided.
What? Aren't you?
I knew we were different from the start! I didn't push you away! I didn't treat you like scum, just because I knew our lives would always be different!
Well maybe you should've!
Maybe.
Does it bother you Enda?
The fact that I fell in love with a complete moron? Yes.
No. The fact that you live a lie.
I don't live a lie! I'm comfortable with who I am! I know who I am! I accept who I am! It's you that lives in this constant state of denial-too afraid to trust who you are or to trust your own feelings.
You want to talk about trust now? You want to talk about trust? How about the fact that I trusted you? Were you planning on telling me your little secret? To letting me in on the joke?
It isn't a joke! And yes, I was planning on telling you, but I wanted to wait until it was the right time.
How about from the beginning?
Ha! Clearly wouldn't have been the right time. That's kind of clear from your reaction right now!
What makes you think that dragging out this lie any longer would somehow make it better later?
Because it isn't a lie. It's a shield, maybe, but it's still me. It was always me.
Maybe then, but not anymore.
What do you mean?
It was always you. But it never will be you again.
BUT WHAT IS SHE??
Monday, November 12, 2012
Hypothetically Speaking...
Time to write!
Hypothetically speaking, what would happen if somewhere every supposition we ever made actually came true?
If that was the case, then I would have just doomed a whole new world into being. This world would be a parallel universe where every time anyone supposes anything, then that supposing actually becomes reality.
So if Moses supposed that his toes were roses, then in Supposition land, I guess Moses would suddenly have roses toes.
This all sounds rather silly, but there are alternate worlds. I know, because I accidentally thought myself into one, when making a careless statement kind of like the one I made just a moment ago.
All I did was utter the phrase, "hypothetically, what if every hypothetical question actually got answered somewhere else? and what would someone do if they were forced to answer those hypothetical questions?"
I had meant no harm by it, but the transition had happened just that fast. Part of that was because security sure was low this weekend, due to the war and the Stargates being down and the Commander being otherwise engaged. You see, they normally like to prevent people from entering Hypothralsia. For when Hypothetical assumptions become reality, things get messy, pretty darn fast.
Hypothetically speaking, what would happen if somewhere every supposition we ever made actually came true?
If that was the case, then I would have just doomed a whole new world into being. This world would be a parallel universe where every time anyone supposes anything, then that supposing actually becomes reality.
So if Moses supposed that his toes were roses, then in Supposition land, I guess Moses would suddenly have roses toes.
This all sounds rather silly, but there are alternate worlds. I know, because I accidentally thought myself into one, when making a careless statement kind of like the one I made just a moment ago.
All I did was utter the phrase, "hypothetically, what if every hypothetical question actually got answered somewhere else? and what would someone do if they were forced to answer those hypothetical questions?"
I had meant no harm by it, but the transition had happened just that fast. Part of that was because security sure was low this weekend, due to the war and the Stargates being down and the Commander being otherwise engaged. You see, they normally like to prevent people from entering Hypothralsia. For when Hypothetical assumptions become reality, things get messy, pretty darn fast.
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