Thursday, 27 August 2015

Summer Camp Writing Prompt #7

This is the last prompt for the summer, guys! Isn't that sad??? Yes. Yes it it.

This prompt ends tomorrow, August 28th. And do you know what that means?

It means you still have time to link up! Come on, do it. One last hurrah for the summer. :)

Here it is guys. The last summer 2015 prompt:


I guess I could have continued my ghost-centered story from last time, but. . . I didn't? I suppose I just like making up new stories each time. X) Enjoy!

~*~*~*~*~*~

Loo loo loo,
I'll take you dreaming
Through the rainy night,
To a place behind the raindrops,
Where the stars are bright.
You may not find gold or silver,
But a richer prize
Waits for you 
Behind the raindrops
If you close your eyes.

The song drifting through the studio speakers was soft and beautiful. A man's voice, gently crooning a lullaby. One of our clients, rushing to meet an album deadline, perhaps. Except the sound booth was empty. Well, that was fine. Someone must have accidentally left a recording playing. 

Except the power was out. A massive storm had shut down half the city.

I'd only come back to the studio because I'd forgotten some important papers I needed to work on. I was sitting at the table in the corner of the control room, trying to find them with nothing but a flashlight to help me. No one else was here this late, and certainly not in this weather. So when I heard the unfamiliar voice fill the air, my heart stalled in my throat.

Tonight, tonight,
When all the world's asleep,
We will tiptoe home 
With a wondrous star,
A star you can always keep.

My flashlight beam quavered against the sound booth window. Yep, still no one there. It had to be a prank. It would be just like Dan to pull something like this.

"Danny? That you?" my voice sounded way too loud against the muted backdrop of the rain. "We've got business to attend to, you idiot. Stop singing and help me find these papers."

A flicker beyond my flashlight caught my attention and tripled my heart rate. A shadowy figure formed in front of the microphone in the booth. A man, to match the voice. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, and was dressed in an old-fashioned suit that seemed to be from 1940 or 50. 

I couldn't believe my eyes. I had to be dreaming. Or seeing things. This definitely had to be an elaborate prank. Once the power was back on, I could figure this out. 

As I sat in frozen terror and rationalized why I shouldn't be afraid, something stirred in the back of my mind. It registered and recognized the expression on the man's transparent face; he looked sad. Lonely, even. He was gazing somewhere far away as he finished his longing lullaby.

And years from now,
When you go dreaming,
When you're very old,
Though your crown be rich with rubies,
Diamonds set in gold,
None will shine as bright
As the star we'll find
Tonight.

With a sigh, the figure faded away. The song was over, but it felt so . . . unfinished. I wondered if he sang that every night when no one was around. Petrified and bewildered, I stayed where I was for a long time. So long, in fact, that I was only snapped out of my haze when the early morning sun peeked through the window. 

Suddenly energized despite being up all night, I shot out of my chair and raced to my car. I broke my personal speed record and a few laws and made it home in record time. Up in my apartment, I wasted no time flipping open my laptop and searching for rumors that our recording studio was haunted. 

The man's mournful face was seared in my mind. I had to find out who he was, and what had happened to him. And, if possible, I had to find out how to help him. Because there was no way I was going to go back there while he was lurking around, floating through walls and crooning

I gave an exaggerated shiver and definitely did not entertain the thought that I might want to do something for someone else for a change. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

Also, I snagged that song from an old movie that I really like, called the Court Jester. Here it is! The song, I mean. Not the whole movie. X)




~*~*~*~*~*~

Well well, we had a good run, didn't we? Let's see, there was a story about dimensional overseers, one about old-timey spies, one about murderous underground monsters, one really ridiculous one about candy weather, one about modern-day dragons, one about ghosts, and this one about a haunted recording studio! 

Fantastic. 

And if you didn't join the prompt...: SHAME. SHAAAAAAME. *insert disapproving look*

XD Hehe! Just kidding. But you should definitely think about joining next time (you know, if Ashley does another one). Or, hey, host one yourself! You could totally do that, I just KNOW it.

Thanks for the fun linkup, Ashley! :D

Thursday, 20 August 2015

When Your Character Reverts

Imagine this. Your character is going along, fine and dandy and confident as heck. Then BAM! Someone from their past shows up. And lo and behold, whether you planned for it to happen or not, your character becomes a sniveling idiot. Or a goofy one.

Why?

Well, don't expect me to get all scientific over here, and start explaining things like brain chemicals and declarative episodic memory (thanks, Psychology 101). All I know is that interacting with a certain person can cause someone to relive their old emotions, or act in a different way.

Let me provide an example or two from my real-live life.

1) When I was younger, I used to have the BIGGEST crush on this one guy at my church. It was intense. For five or six years, I loved him from afar. But I was SO. FREAKING. SHY. I couldn't talk to him at ALL. Then he stopped coming to our church, and I was a little heartbroken, but I'd mostly gotten over my crush, so I was able to pull myself together tolerably well.
Since then, I've come out of my shell a lot. I can walk up to people and introduce myself now, even hold a conversation. But when that guy comes back and visits the church? I STILL CAN'T TALK TO HIM. I CAN BARELY EVEN LOOK AT HIM. Not because I'm embarrassed about the fact that I used to have a crush on him, and not because my crush on him returns. I just get SHY again! It's actually fascinating how my entire being just shrinks back from interacting with him. And I mean, he's a super nice and friendly guy. I have no reason to distance myself from him, other than my old shyness.



2) I'm not quite sure what this one signifies, but my friend always laugh at me for it. When I talk on the phone to my parents (but especially my dad), my voice gets quieter and higher pitched. It's like I get younger, in a vocal sense. Maybe because I do and always will feel like my dad's little girl?

And there's always the well-known "current crush" situation, where your brain simply stops functioning in the presence of that ONE PERSON, and it's horrible.


And what about exes?
A calm person might become enraged in their presence, because they can feel the anger of their parting circumstances, or because they recall all the little things about that person that used to frustrate them.
An independent person might become doe-eyed and compliant in their presence, because they recall the love of their previous relationship and want to win them back, or at least make their ex like them again.
A confident person might become scared and helpless in the face of a previous partner that had been abusive or controlling.

The same could go for family. Would your strong and successful hero still try to please their never-satisfied parent? Could reuniting with a beloved sibling make your quiet, stiff hero laugh and relax?

Basically, what I'm saying here is similar to what I was saying last time. Draw from your own experiences to give new life to your character's emotions. The past doesn't always stay there.

What about you? Have you ever experienced an old emotion like it was brand-new? Is there a character in your story that reverts to a previous attitude in the presence of a certain person? Do tell!

Friday, 14 August 2015

Summer Camp Writing Prompt #6




O-KAY THE DEADLINE FOR THIS IS COMING UP AND I'M UNPREPARED LETS GO QUICK BEFORE CAMP STARTS AND MY TIME IS COMMANDEERED BY CHILDREN READY SET GO (well ok, that was written like a week ago. #scheduledpostproblems? Or not? Anyway, the prompt ends today, August 14!)

~*~*~*~*~*~

"Ah, smell that greasy boardwalk food."

Al looked at Sid and raised a translucent eyebrow. "Except, we can't smell anything."

"Not true!" countered Sid, "We can smell incense, and other types of strong sweet smells. This," he stopped to smash his face into a passerby's funnel cake, which then cooled considerably, "qualifies."

Al ignored Sid and went to inspect the vendor's hut. Decorated in a gaudy tiki motif that the tourists seemed to appreciate, it peddled a surprisingly wide assortment of foods. They were all made almost entirely of chemicals, but the people sitting on the benches and at the picnic tables seemed to enjoy it anyway.

"And feel that summer sun!" Sid popped up beside Al.

 Al sighed. "Hey Sid, guess what?"

"What?"

"We can't do that, either."

This time, it was Sid who ignored Al. He slid onto a bench next to a kid holding a hamburger that was dripping ketchup everywhere. "Ah, lunch. Remember when we ate real lunch?" Sid tried to bite the kid's burger, but only succeeded in falling through the burger, through the bench, and disappearing under the ground. The kid shivered with a sudden chill and moved off to find his mother.

Al waited until Sid had reappeared and was walking with him before speaking. "Firstly, this hardly qualifies as 'real' food. Secondly, we've never had lunch together. But if you mean individually, then yes, of course I remember eating lunch. And thirdly. . ." by this time, the two friends had made their way over to the shade of a large tree, where a young couple sat, blind to the world, lost in the other's lips, ". . .what's got you in such a cheerful mood today?"

Sid went to lean against the tree but started to fall backwards through it. Al grabbed a fistful of shirt and pulled him back up. Sid concentrated harder, this time succeeding in making solid contact against the trunk. He crossed his arms and grinned in self-satisfied glee. "I got seance'd yesterday."

"Really?" in a rare burst of living emotion, Al's happiness for his friend caused flowers to bloom around the tree, causing the kissing couple to exclaim in delight and attack the other's face even more. "Perrie contacted you? I thought you said she didn't believe in that stuff?"

Sid shrugged and dipped his head in a brief moment of bashfulness, "I guess she just really misses me. I've only been dead for three months, you know."

Al, who had been dead much longer than that, nodded and placed a hand on Sid's shoulder. "I know." He removed his hand and asked the most pressing question, "Did you get through?"

"A little." Sid pushed his floppy bangs out of the way, even though they were transparent like the rest of him, "That medium barely knew what she was doing, but I was able to convey an 'I love you.' I mean, I think I did. Unless the medium just said that at a guess. But either way," he shuffled his feet and looked down, "It's true."

"I'm sure Perrie knows that," Al said, even as someone several yards away caught his attention. The person was gawking excitedly in their general direction. Great. "Come on, we gotta move. Being in shadow plus exhibiting living emotions means we're more visible to seekers. We can talk down by the water where it's brighter."

The two quickly left the area while the ghost-believing beachcomber was trying to alert his friend to their presence. Yes, the man would look like a crazy person, but the two spirits were more worried about being discovered than about making the poor believer look like an idiot. It was simply safer to remain unknown.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Ok, I suppose I should point out that I don't actually believe in ghosts. This idea just presented itself to me, and I couldn't say no. X) Anyway, head on over to Ashley's blog to check out the new prompt (which, if it isn't up yet, will be up very soon, I'm sure)!

Monday, 10 August 2015

Snazzy Snippets

A new writing linkup, guys! This one come from Looney Literate and The Devil Orders Takeout. Here's a snippet (lol! Guys I'm funny! No? Oh.) from the Looney Literate blog, describing the linkup:

Every two months, we post a prompt or question for you to share a snippet of less than 500 words. It’s designed to let you have fun, analyse your work on a smaller level, or just write something to join in.
Post anything, so long as it pertains to the prompt/question and is under 500 words! (We won’t kill you if it’s a bit over, of course, but we may frown.) It can be something you wrote at 3 AM the night before or a passage you’ve been slaving over for months. And of course, it has to be your own writing. Plagiarism isn’t snazzy.

  • Snippet number one: A snippet that shows your MC’s personality
  • Snipper number two: A snippet featuring the villain
  • Snippet number three: A snippet that’s mostly dialogue

You can link up here for the next month, ending on the 10th of August.

I think I shall choose to do all of the snippets, because why stop at one? Or two?



~*~*~Snippet featuring the villain~*~*~
(had to do this one first, since its chronologically first in my WIP. You may recognize part of it from my 13-13-13 tag)

As Amadan put more and more distance between himself and Rolf, he became more and more panicked. They knew. Stars help him, they knew. The Spymaster and his illegitimate brat. They’d figured it out. And Thalion? Thalion knew as well?

Amadan quickened his steps, regal poise falling away until he fairly flew down the castle halls, his feet taking him automatically to the one man he knew could help him.

He burst into the bedchamber without knocking. The distinguished silver-haired man sitting at the desk glanced up in distaste before returning to his letters. “Do control yourself, Amadan.”

“They know.” Amadan seethed.

“Who, Boros? He’s not a problem.”

“Not just him, Havenlord.” Amadan threw back the name he’d heard Boros use earlier. “What kind of title is that, anyway?”

Havenlord sighed like this whole ordeal was entirely too much for him, “Our city is a safe place. A haven. I am one of the leading lords. A little less insolence and a little more intelligence would become you, my prince.” Realizing he probably wouldn’t get any work done with Amadan around, he put down his quill and folded his hands on the desk, “Now, who or what is so upsetting to you?”

“I ran into Rolf Dae’Elen in the corridor. He knows the king has been poisoned. In fact, he said Thalion knows too. What am I going to do?” Amadan made little effort to keep the panic out of his voice.

“Of course your father knows. He’s not an idiot, however much we wish he were. We came prepared for that. As for the young Dae’Elen; if Boros isn’t a problem, why should his son be? We can take care of him when we take care of his father. It's likely we would have had to do that anyway.”

“When will this be done?” Amadan demanded, “I can’t afford to wait. What if they act on what they know?”

“Patience, young prince.” The older gentleman purred in a voice as sleek as his build, “You have only to wait until tonight. Then you won’t have to worry about them anymore.”

~*~*~Snippet that shows my MC's personality~*~*~
(I'm soooo bad at writing personalities in the first draft. And this is the first draft. So...yeah. Don't expect great insights into who Rolf is as a person. XD)

Rolf attacked the training dummy in front of him with ferocity, slamming the wooden practice sword into it mercilessly until the supporting pole snapped, and the dummy fell to the ground.

Breathing heavily, Rolf twisted his hands around the sword’s rough grip and glared down at the fallen wood-and-leather mannequin. How could the king expect something like this of him? At the same time though, how could he refuse?

Rolf booted the prone dummy in frustration, sending it skidding over the grass a very unsatisfying couple of feet.

“Rough day?”

Rolf whirled around. Prince Rowan stood behind him, hazel eyes compassionate. 

Taking a deep breath to calm his labored breathing, Rolf tossed the practice sword on the ground and crossed his arms over his chest. “I ran into your brother today.”

“Ah.” Rowan nodded his understanding and said nothing more.

Rolf stifled the urge to tirade against Amadan, and instead took another cleansing breath. 

They stood in silence for a moment, a cool spring breeze drying the sweat on Rolf’s forehead, while the sun warmed his skin. He looked around at the majestic beauty of the glimmering white castle and lush courtyards, thought of the simple splendor of the clean, cobbled streets of the town. Would the cities Beneath be so pleasing? Would he ever make it back to this breathtaking, peaceful city, or would he die on the fetid plains of the wild land below, struck down by enemies he’d never known?

“Rowan. . . .” Rolf trailed off, not sure what he wanted to say.

“My father gave you a job, didn’t he?” a grieved look came over Rowan’s face, “Like the ones he gives to your father?”

Rolf nodded, “He wants me to find a cure for his—” Sickness? Poison? The terms warred in his mind and ground his words to a halt again.

Rowan ran a hand through his sun-colored hair in distress, “Oh, that we lived in a time where we did not fear to traverse the lands. Oh that it were not dangerous for us, even now.”

Rowan’s lament sent shivers through Rolf. “You’re not helpful, my prince.”

~*~*~Snippet that's mostly dialogue~*~*~
(I actually had a LOT of largely-dialogue scenes! lol but this one is kinda fun, and gives you some info!)

A gust of wind blew through the sidestreet, and Kat shivered.

“Oh, hey.” Zane’s cobalt brow wrinkled in concern. “You’re still in that stupid costume. I guess we should have stopped by your room and gotten you some real clothes. Here.” He took off his black jacket and swung it around her shoulders.

Warmth enveloped her instantly. Soft fur lined the inside of the coat, sturdy leather making up the outer shell. It smelled somewhat of booze, but it was a small price to pay.

She looked back at Zane, who was now shielded from the wind by nothing more than a thin white cotton shirt. “Thank you.”

“Eh.” Zane shrugged and grinned, “Can’t leave a lady in distress now, can I?”

Kat raised an eyebrow at this, “Why do I get the feeling you cause more distress than you relieve?”

Zane’s jaw dropped in delighted astonishment, “Hey!”

“Are you two quite done?”

“Woah!” Kat and Zane jumped. Rolf had reappeared out of nowhere.

“There’s no one back there.” Rolf pushed past them and peered up the street, “We’re not far now.”

“Look, I get why I have to leave the city, but why do you?” Zane asked.

A sharp look from Rolf, “None of your business.”

But he had a good point. “Hey, I became a wanted fugitive for you.” Kat piped up, “So spill.”

Rolf glanced between them, cast another look back over his shoulder in the general direction of the Gate, and turned back to them with a frustrated sigh. “Ok, fine, quick recap. My father is the king’s spy, someone poisoned the king, the king’s eldest son falsely accused my father and I of treason, I managed to escape custody, and even if the prince hadn’t sent guards after me, I’d still have to go Beneath to find the cure for the poison. Now all I have to do is escape the city, find the man with the cure, get the cure, get back in the city, and heal the king before one of us dies. Ok? Can we go now?”

“Oh. Well.” Zane looked from Rolf to Kat to Rolf. “When you put it like that, sure.”

~*~*~*~*~*~
Ah, my old (still current, but long untouched) WIP. Good times. XD I should really try writing some more in that..... X)

Aaanyway, this was SO FUN! You should totally head over to one of the two aforementioned blogs and sign up! :D

EDIT: LOL I just realized that I also used the name Thalion in the first summer camp writing prompt! I thought it sounded familiar at the time. Apparently I like that name. X)

Wednesday, 5 August 2015

Book List - Philip and the Missing Artifact


Once upon a time when I was of an indeterminate age but probably around 12, my parents got me a book from the library. I mean, we were always going to the library and getting books, but this was one specific book that I had no part in selecting. It was a book on how to make a book! And I do mean "make." Construction paper cover, you know. But anyway, it also told how to plot a story and whatnot.

However, the WAY it told you (the kid, because it was a book targeted at kids) to plot, was to make a sort of comic strip, with one general scene idea in each box. Mine looked like this:


So, I had a general idea of the story. Great! That's more than I normally have. But so wrapped up was I in the smaller details of "making" a book, that I didn't actually form any sort of story in my mind beyond what I drew for the comic-strip-plot. In fact, when I came to the part of the book that said, "Ok! Now write your story!" I was like, "....you mean I have to do WORK?"

What I'm trying to say is.....This story was a half-hearted attempt at best. And HEAVENS ABOVE, does it show. This story, though completed, might actually be worse than the last one.

What the first page looks like....yeah.

...
...
...
...
...Welp, enjoy!

Hey look, the chapters have titles again!

Chapter 1: Philip
Chapter 2: The Search
No, wait, sorry. Chapters 3 -6 are untitled. Bummer.

Before we start reading our story, I have to point this out.


Philip is an archaeologist. That's what this story is about, archaeologists. LOOK AT HIS HAIR. LOOK AT IT. WHAT KIND OF ARCHAEOLOGIST HAS HAIR SO OBNOXIOUSLY IMPRACTICAL?? And apparently, this idiot is 18. EIGHTEEN!! To be fair to myself, I can see on my comic-page that the '1' used to be a '2', so at least 28 had seemed like an appropriate age at some point. Still a bit young, I think, but way better than 18, which apparently seemed quite old and adult-ish to little 12-year-old me.

Anyway, on to the chapters! I actually really enjoyed typing it all out last time, and this story is just too ridiculous NOT to write down word-for-word, so I'll do that again, if you don't mind. ;) If you DO mind.....sorry not sorry! ^.^

Chapter 1: Philip

Philip was a young archeologist. he was 18. He was a nice boy and had black hair, but he could get very serious at times, but that couldn't change the fact that he was sloppy! (Ah, second sentence, and I'm already not making sense! That must be a record for me. Yay me. Yay records.) Work at the dig made him strong and athletic, and he loved it, but he was quiet, too. (THESE SENTENCES DO NOT FIT TOGETHER WITH ANY LOGICAL SENSE!)

     One day around 8:00, Philip was carefully digging around a bone fragment when a shout came from the house where the artifacts were stored. Tom, Philips best friend, came running out. 
"Proffessor!" he shouted "A tablet has been stolen!" 
"What!!!" (get ready for this, this is the best name in the history of names:) Proffessor Mcgiggins came running out of the house. (they built a legit house near this dig site? Now that's dedication!) "Impossible!" he said

"Its true, sir." Tom said gasping for breath.

      Now, Tom was known for his silliness. He was always cracking jokes. But now he was not kidding. his face was white and sweat was rolling off him. He held a peice of shattered glass in his hand. (Dun dun DUNNNNN!!! Also, according to an illustration of mine, Professor Mcgiggins wears a monocle. Because that's what professors DO.)

Chapter 2: The Search

30 min later, everyone had finally started to calm down. (IT TOOK THEM A FULL HALF HOUR TO COLLECT THEMSELVES?? DO YOU KNOW HOW FAR A THIEF COULD GET IN HALF AN HOUR? NO? Neither do I, but it's probably pretty far!) Prof. Mcgiggins made an announcment. 
"We must send out a search party. Tom, Philip, & Brenda. you will go out in search of the tablet. The rest of you will take turns watching the other artifacts. Thats all I have to say" (Yes, let's send three teenagers out alone to go after the thief, and not call the police. Police are the last thing we want.) 

"Brenda" Philip thought She was brave, bold, picky, populour, and bossy! She had golden-red hair that glowed like fire and flowed like water. (I gagged when I read this sentence, I really did. That is the most disgustingly cheesy line ever written by anyone.) She had good traits, Phil just couldn't think of any (you CROSSED OUT her good traits!!!)

     By 9:00 they started there journey. (Ah, it only took them another HALF HOUR after Mcgiggin's announcement to get started, I see. Good, they're making fabulous time, then.) Brenda, of course, took the lead.

"It's like she live inside a circle were only perfect people can enter" Tom whispered

"Yea" Philip replied "they'll let anyone be an archeologist these days!" (oh, snap.)

Brenda didn't seem to hear she just flounced ahead of them. "Caves" she said suddenly "Eeeww!" (WHY IS THIS GIRL AN ARCHAEOLOGIST??) 

Philip rolled his eyes. "come on" he said. "lets inspect them"

Philip & Tom went in Brenda reluctanly followed them. It was dark and they couldn't really see wear they were going. There was a strange red glow up ahead. Philip rushed to investigate.

"Phil-!" Tom began to warn him, but his caution came too late.

"AAAHHH!" Philip screamed

Tom & Brenda rushed to look. Philip was hanging by 1 hand over a pit of lava! (Oh, you think that's stupidly sudden? Just wait. We're not done yet!)

Chapter 3

"H-Help...me" Philip gasped.

Tom & Brenda rushed around, looking for something to pull him up with. Tom found an old rope. (What is it with young me and having really convenient rope?) They lowered it to Philip

"Grab on!" Tom shouted. Philip managed to grab it just as his hand slipped off the edge. Tom & Brenda (yes even Brenda!) (yes, that was in the book) used all their strength to haul Philip up out of the pit.

"TH-Thanks!" Philip stuttered.

Just then Brenda said. "Hey look over there! It's, like, a bag. (Is this girl a walking stereotype, or what?)

The trio went over to look

"Dont touch that!" someone said from behind them

Philip, Tom & Brenda turned. Behind them was a masked man, with the tablet! But he was also holding a gun! (If he's got his gun AND the tablet with him.....what's in the bag?? And why is he hiding out in lava caves? Especially ones that are like five minutes away from camp? You've had an HOUR to get away, dude!!) Without thinking Philip snatched a loose stone off the wall and tossed it. (So he gave it a gentle underhand throw, did he?) The gun was knocked out of the theifs hand and into the lava. (Oh, well at least the lava came in handy.) The thief started to run.

"Quickly!" Philip shouted. "after him!"

and the race was on!

Chapter 4

the theif ran out of the caves and toward the forest. Philip, Tom, & Brenda followed. But, in high heels, Brenda couldn't run very well. She tripped on a small log and fell in the dirt. (BRENDA YOU USELESS LUMP.) Phillip stopped and helped her up while Tom watched the theif. (TOM YOU USELESS LUMP.) then, they started after him again. after a couple of min they caught up. the trees where the were formed an impassible wall. The theif was trapped! They tied him up with the old rope (Oh look! Even the old rope came in handy!) and took him back to camp. 

     A little while later, Prof. Mcgiggins called everyone together to see who the masked theif was. (What, everyone didn't come running as soon as they entered camp? And "a little while later"? Why wait?) Prof. pulled off the mask.

"BOB!?!" Everyone exclaimed. there were all very surprised. He was the milkman! (I HAVE SO MANY PROBLEMS WITH THIS!! First of all; a milkman?? That's a little 50's, dontcha think? Though that might explain why Brenda was wearing high heels while doing physical labor, but not why she was an archaeologist and doing physical labor. Second; WE HAVE NEVER MET THIS PERSON. WE'VE NEVER SEEN THIS PERSON. WE'VE NEVER EVEN HEARD OF HIM. You can't just DO that, younger me!!!) 

Chapter 5

"That's right" Bob said "I planned to sell that stupid tablet. I would have made millions!" You know, being a milkman doesn't pay very well."

"Oh, Yeah?" Tom said "well neither does being a criminal!"

Everybody laughed. (I am fairly certain this entire story could be a ScoobyDoo episode if you put a big dog and a psychedelic van in it. Especially this ending, yeesh.)

"Come on." Prof. Mcgiggins said "lets have a celebration! After we phone the police, of course." (Oh NOWWW you're gonna call the police! Goooooood......)

20 min later Bob was in jail and the cake was being served. (Apparently I had not learned anything about police procedure since the Matthew Squeakly debacle.) after the cake, Brenda came up to Philip and Tom "Thanks for helping me back there." she said

"No" Philip said "Thanks for helping me!"

Brenda smiled, then walked away. (....soooo are you guys friends now, or...?)

Chapter 6

The next day, everything was back to normal. Everyone was digging. The only thing that was 'not normal', as Tom put it, (yes, because that is such an unusual way to phrase things.) was that Brenda was getting dirt and, (believe it or not!) being nice! work at the dig was the same as it had always been, (No! It's not! You JUST SAID that some things were different!!) but Philip would never forget his adventure of a lifetime. (the adventure that only took two and a half hours to complete, including the HOUR it took you to leave camp after the tablet was discovered missing.)

~*~*~*~

Ta da! The end! Wasn't that just, um, painful. I didn't remember sucking so badly at punctuation and capitalization. Oh well. Hopefully you could still read it! Sadly (or fortunately, depending on your point of view), not every "Book List" post will be as long as this one. For some stories, I only have one or two sentences, or only a vague recollection of, "maybe there was a story there once?" And when I come to my longer stories, I'll just summarize. ;D

I love typing these things out/summarizing them for you guys! What about you? Would you ever bare your old works for all to see? Or have you already done that?