Motivation From Lemony Snicket

Some of you, mostly Miles, are doing the NaNoWriMo challenge. I'm not, but I surbscribed anyways to the pep talks they give you every couple days, because they're interesting and informative. Like this one:

Dear Cohort,

Struggling with your novel? Paralyzed by the fear that it's nowhere near good enough? Feeling caught in a trap of your own devising? You should probably give up.

For one thing, writing is a dying form. One reads of this every day. Every magazine and newspaper, every hardcover and paperback, every website and most walls near the freeway trumpet the news that nobody reads anymore, and everyone has read these statements and felt their powerful effects. The authors of all those articles and editorials, all those manifestos and essays, all those exclamations and eulogies - what would they say if they knew you were writing something? They would urge you, in bold-faced print, to stop.

Clearly, the future is moving us proudly and zippily away from the written word, so writing a novel is actually interfering with the natural progress of modern society.

It is old-fashioned and fuddy-duddy, a relic of a time when people took artistic expression seriously and found solace in a good story told well. We are in the process of disentangling ourselves from that kind of peace of mind, so it is rude for you to hinder the world by insisting on adhering to the beloved paradigms of the past. It is like sitting in a gondola, listening to the water carry you across the water, while everyone else is zooming over you in jetpacks, belching smoke into the sky. Stop it, is what the jet-packers would say to you. Stop it this instant, you in that beautiful craft of intricately-carved wood that is giving you such a pleasant journey.

Besides, there are already plenty of novels. There is no need for a new one. One could devote one's entire life to reading the work of Henry James, for instance, and never touch another novel by any other author, and never be hungry for anything else, the way one could live on nothing but multivitamin tablets and pureed root vegetables and never find oneself craving wild mushroom soup or linguini with clam sauce or a plain roasted chicken with lemon-zested dandelion greens or strong black coffee or a perfectly ripe peach or chips and salsa or caramel ice cream on top of poppyseed cake or smoked salmon with capers or aged goat cheese or a gin gimlet or some other startling item sprung from the imagination of some unknown cook. In fact, think of the world of literature as an enormous meal, and your novel as some small piddling ingredient - the drawn butter, for example, served next to a large, boiled lobster. Who wants that? If it were brought to the table, surely most people would ask that it be removed post-haste.

Even if you insisted on finishing your novel, what for? Novels sit unpublished, or published but unsold, or sold but unread, or read but unreread, lonely on shelves and in drawers and under the legs of wobbly tables. They are like seashells on the beach. Not enough people marvel over them. They pick them up and put them down. Even your friends and associates will never appreciate your novel the way you want them to. In fact, there are likely just a handful of readers out in the world who are perfect for your book, who will take it to heart and feel its mighty ripples throughout their lives, and you will likely never meet them, at least under the proper circumstances. So who cares? Think of that secret favorite book of yours - not the one you tell people you like best, but that book so good that you refuse to share it with people because they'd never understand it. Perhaps it's not even a whole book, just a tiny portion that you'll never forget as long as you live. Nobody knows you feel this way about that tiny portion of literature, so what does it matter? The author of that small bright thing, that treasured whisper deep in your heart, never should have bothered.

Of course, it may well be that you are writing not for some perfect reader someplace, but for yourself, and that is the biggest folly of them all, because it will not work. You will not be happy all of the time. Unlike most things that most people make, your novel will not be perfect. It may well be considerably less than one-fourth perfect, and this will frustrate you and sadden you. This is why you should stop. Most people are not writing novels which is why there is so little frustration and sadness in the world, particularly as we zoom on past the novel in our smoky jet packs soon to be equipped with pureed food. The next time you find yourself in a group of people, stop and think to yourself, probably no one here is writing a novel. This is why everyone is so content, here at this bus stop or in line at the supermarket or standing around this baggage carousel or sitting around in this doctor's waiting room or in seventh grade or in Johannesburg. Give up your n ovel, and join the crowd. Think of all the things you could do with your time instead of participating in a noble and storied art form. There are things in your cupboards that likely need to be moved around.

In short, quit. Writing a novel is a tiny candle in a dark, swirling world. It brings light and warmth and hope to the lucky few who, against insufferable odds and despite a juggernaut of irritations, find themselves in the right place to hold it. Blow it out, so our eyes will not be drawn to its power. Extinguish it so we can get some sleep. I plan to quit writing novels myself, sometime in the next hundred years.
--Lemony Snicket

Short Story- The Red Telephone Booths

Well, I tried to write this short story completely during Spuds, but it didn't work... I got stuck ^^' I got some real help from my friend, (who told me that i'm really good at setting up long stories..... but of course that is a BAD thing for a short story) she helped, but its still... stuck for a plot point. all i know is its supposed to end up as a "And that's why I was late to school today" story. Well, comment, help, all that crap ^^



The story begins with five red telephone booths standing side-by-side. They were old, and had signs that read, “Out of Order.” They were empty, obviously because to someone who didn’t know better, they were out of order. But to someone who did know better, they were elevators to the underworld.

Unseen to mortal eyes, up out of each of the telephone booths, five different “people” rose up in succession of each other. One of the “people” took a step out of the telephone booth, still unnoticed by the humans walking past.

He chuckled quietly and said, “I still think it’s ridiculously funny that the humans can’t see us when we’re right here.”

“You know why.” Another man said as he stepped out beside him. The two looked almost identical. The first’s name was Eryx, and the second was Finn. They were vampire twins.

“Those silly mortals can’t see us because they’re so self-absorbed and too busy to notice five people magically appearing in five out of order telephone booths.” Said a third person, a female this time. This one’s name was Annette. She had a lovely voice that made it undeniable that she was a siren.

“Yes,” Eryx said with another chuckle.

“Well, we must be moving on.” Another male voice said. This one was Darien, a quite tall skinwalker. Standing next to him was Hayley, a petite hamadryad. These two were a couple.

“Yes, and so off we go!” Eryx said cheerfully. He led the group down the streets of the city towards a certain house in a certain suburb where a certain person lay sleeping.

The group walked silently down the streets, like shades in the morning light; Eryx at the lead, and Finn by his side. Annette walked gracefully, gazing around at her surroundings. Darien and Hayley took the rear, holding hands. It did not take them long to get to the subdivision where their subject lived. They walked past the rows of streets, looking for one particular name.

Eryx stopped and pointed up to the green street sign, which read, “Shady Raven Court.” He and the group turned and moved down the lane, growing closer and closer to where they were going. Eryx seemed to be counting as he past each of the houses, looking for the certain one. Finally, Eryx and the others came to a halt and stared at the house across the street. They had arrived.

Inside the normal house on the normal street, a seemingly normal boy lay in his normal, age-appropriate room. He lay spread-eagle on his stomach, one foot hanging off the bed, uncovered. He had no idea what was in store for him that day.

Suddenly, the boy was rudely awakened by seemingly appearing on the floor with his mattress on top of him. He shot up, pushing the mattress up off of him. His head spun around to see what had caused this disturbance in his sleep patterns. The five strangers standing around him met his eyes. His jaw dropped and no sound came out to express his reaction to five, quite attractive, strangers in his room.

“That was quite effective, Finn, thank you.” Eryx said. Finn nodded with a quick, mischievous smile that disappeared instantly. “Well then, Liam, old boy, you’ll need to come with us.”

The boy’s eyes bugged out of their sockets, “How do you know my name?” He asked.

“We take care to know everybody’s name when we come to take them away.” Eryx said.

“Take me away?!” Liam shouted.

Darien and Finn hushed the boy and Eryx said, “Please, do be quiet, we wouldn’t want your parents to wake up, now would we?”

Liam was silent and stared at Eryx. He gulped and said, in a trembling voice, “Where are you taking me?”

“No time now, we’ll tell you on the way!” Eryx said. “Right now, you will need to get dressed.” Liam looked down and his eyes grew wide when he realized he was wearing nothing but a pair of pajama pants. He pulled up his blanket with a flushed face as Annette giggled.

Liam soon took up the courage to say, “Well I’m not going to change when you’re all standing there!”

They all took the hint. Darien was the first out, and he helped Hayley and Annette step out of the window. Eryx and Finn followed.

Liam sat for a moment, trying to decide whether he was asleep or not. He pinched himself to check and found that, unfortunately, he was awake. He rose and quickly threw on some clothes. He grabbed his backpack and stepped out the window.

“Good man.” Eryx said, and he turned and began back the way they had come.

“NOW are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Liam asked.

“Not necessarily.” Annette said in a teasing voice.

“What?! Why?” Liam exclaimed.

“Because surprises are always fun!” Annette said with a smile. She skipped ahead of Liam, right behind Eryx and Finn.

The Hidden Pool

This took me two hours to type up, so you'd all better like it. This is a story written by my cousin. Just so you know, I'd probably rate it PG-13. But it's a brilliant read, so enjoy!

The Hidden Pool
By Connor Davidson

Jared bounded across the yellow sand, racing the seagulls to his family's site on the beach. He didn't mind the dozens of other parties that shared the bright California shore. The soft and constant drone of the tide lulled the beachgoers to sleep, but Jared was wide awake, filled with childish engery. He screeched to a sudden halt next to Chris. The tanning thirteen-year-old did not appreciate the sudden disruption of his nap as Jared's feet kicked a cloud of sand into his face.
"Jared! If you weren't my cousin, I'd whip you with my towel!" He spat the dirt out of his mouthand wiped it from his eyes. He glared at the beaming shild wasn't even ten yet. The charming, innocent smile disarmed him quickly.
"Hey, Chris! Oh... I'm sorry if I'm bothering you."
"No, no, it's fine," Chris lied.
"Where are Derek and Jerry?" Jared asked.
Chris squinted from the bright sun's reflection on the blue water. "They're out there swimming."
"Aren't you supposed to be watching them?"
"No, my mom is."
"Oh, well... you want to see what I found?"
Chris sighed. "Look, Jared, I just want to relax. Could you leave me alone for the rest of the day?"
Jared cocked his head, "Are you mad?"
"Not really, but I don't really care what seashells or animals you found. I want to enjoy the sun for a while."
"Well, the sun's just as nice over there..."
"Thanks, but no thanks."
The smile on Jared's face diminished. He flanced around at the other family members and sighed. It was no use... If Chris wasn't interested, the adults sure wouldn't be.
He left his cousin, who plugged his music headphones in and continued sunbathing. Walking towards the vast expanse of blue, Jared searched for his younger kin.
Derek and Jerry were busy splashing each other inder the watch of Aunt Clair. The giggled and shouted, heedless of the irritated ladies nearby who did not appreciate their splashing; growling and guiding their children away from them. The boys stopped when they heard Jared call them and waded to the shore. Derek of Jared's younger brother by almost two years, but not quite. Jerry was their cousin, yet due to his closer age to Derek, he considered himself his best friend.
Jared made the rest of the distance to them, kicking up water as he ran.
"Hey guys, I found something really cool," he said.
"What is it?" Derek asked.
"I'll show you."
"What about Aunt Clair?" Jerry asked.
"She won't mind... it's not far," Jared assured.
The others began to follow him when Aunt Clair hurried over. "hey, you boys," she called, "where are you going?"
Jared turned around. "I found something cool I want to show them. We'll be back."
"I don't want to going off alone. Where is this cool thing?"
"Just past the marina," Jared pointed to the nearby motorboats down the beach.
"Have Chris go with you," Aunt Clair demanded.
"Alright, alright..." Jared sighed. He turned the younger boys, "Come on, I'll show you."
They made as thought they were going towards Chris, but when Aunt Clair turned back, the trio scampered off towards the marina, as the had no desire to bother Chris again.
They ran past the boats, admiring some of the more expensive and lavish ones. "I'd like to be on the water in a boat like that," Jared pointed to a smooth, sleek, blue sppedboat that sat entirely alone. Someone must have spent a life's fortune for such a beautiful watercraft.
When Jared led them past the marine, they paused. There were mountains of great gray rocks, as if a massive truck had dropped a load of over sized gravel next to the coast.
"Well," Derek started, "where is it?"
"Follow me, "Jared responded.
They climbed the rocks slowly, being careful not to slip. Jerry scatter the brood of gulls on one of the larger stones. Soon they reached the top of the highest mound and looked down.
There below was a small little bay, almost completely surrounded by the walls of stone. There was a small little mouth that allowed the water to enter in. The bay was about the size of an average swimming pool and about as deep. The water was calm and clear, undisturbed by the shifting tide of the outer ocean.
"Wow!" Derek exclaimed. "It's a perfect little private pool!"
"I know, it's incredible," Jared said. "Think of the awesome games we could play, away from peepers."
"What about this?" Jerry pointed to a sign that read WARNING. It was a caution sign declaring the pool was off limits.
"So what?" Jared asked. "It's not like there's anyone around to enforce it."
"I don't see anything wrong down there," Derek agreed.
"Well, neither do I... But what if there are sharks?"
"Do you see any sharks? Or warnings about sharks on the sign?"
"No, but..."
"Are you afraid?" asked Derek.
"No!"
Jared patted Jerry's shoulder. "There's nothing wrong down there, and there's nobody around. Let's go have some fun down there, without anyone bothering us."
"But what would our parents say?"
"They don't have to find out," Derek proposed.
"What if we get hurt?"
"Jerry, nobody's going to get hurt," Jared assured. "We'll be careful. Come on, let's play something."
"We'll play whatever you want to," Derek added.
"Okay then..." Jerry thought for a moment. "We'll play shark attack."
With a cheer of agreement, the boys rushed down into the pool. It was just like a swimming pool: it started with a shallow end and progressively got deeper towards the mouth of the ocean. The water was not stagnant; instead it was cool and crisp, as if it had been used many times before.
For nearly an hour, they hollered and laughed as they swan from one side of the pool to the other, then back. Jared played the part of the "shark" and the other two boys tried to swim as fast as they could across the bay without getting their feet grabbed. Derek and Jerry giggled and jeered, taunting Jared to swim faster to catch them, and he gleefully complied. None of the boys thought anybody was near, nor did they notice the shape entering the eddy below the surface.
As the boys continued their game, they came closer to the mouth of the pool and the mysterious creature below. It was not until Derek cried out that he felt something brush against his leg that they became observant of their surroundings.
"What was it? A fish?" Jared asked.
Derek shook his head. "It felt bigger."
Jerry was suddenly anxious. "Maybe we should leave now," he mumbled. "What is it's a shark?"
Jared thought for a moment. "Wait," he began, "if it was dangerous, wouldn't it have attacked already?"
"Then what do you think it is?"
The older boy didn't answer. He saw a flash of movement in the water out of the corner of his eye. When he turned to examine if, there was mothing. Jared's eyes scanned the water. He too was nervous, though he worked hard on concealing it. There was a tiny sound of a ripple behind him. He twisted around swiftly; yet again he found absolutely nothing. Derek and Jared were starting to whimper softly.
"Hey guys, I don't think there's anything here. Let's not worry about it. how about..."
A mighty splash exploded behind him and the two other boys cried out in alarm. Jared felt like someone dumped a bucket of water on him. He twirled about, hoping to ward of an ambush. What he saw gave him a greater start.
It was a girl, about all of their same age. She was fair skinned with long, shimmering, soft blond hair.
Jared thought his eyes were tricking him as he pulled his soaked black hair from his eyes. But when he shook his head and rubbed his eyes, the bright and cheery face of the strange girl was still before him.
"Ummm...Jared stuttered, "Hello?"
"Hi there," she grinned, sincere and friendly.
"What are you doing here?" Derek asked. "This place is supposed to be banned>"
"Well, you're here," the girl countered. "I don't stick well to the rules of adults."
"Apparently, neither do we," Jerry said.
The girl giggled. "Who are you guys?"
Jared relaxed, the stranger was obviously being friendly. "I'l Jared Andersen. This is my brother Derek, and my cousin Jerry."
"Well, hi, Jared, and Derek, and Jerry. My name's Selene." She laid herself back, reclining in the water. Then her tail bagen to break through the surface... Tail?
"Oh my!" Derek cried out.
"You're... a mermaid?" Jared asked.
"Well of course I am," Selene responded. "What did you expect? A human girl?"
"Uhh..." the boys all gaped and blubbered.
The mermaid raised her tail higher, letting the boys better see her sparkling green scales, like emeralds. From the waist up, she the same as any normal girl, wearing a bright blue bikini also made of fish scales. There where legs should be, t was a long, smooth tail with white fins. The trio remained motionless, enchanted by each glitter of skin. It was nothing they had ever seen before, except in those movies, of course.
"Well, if you're done looking at me," the mermaid said, "do you think you have room for another playmate?"
The boys nodded slowly, still regaining their senses. Eventually they found their voices and their playfulness, amending their game to fit their new member. The the rest of the day they played and laughed and splashed, far from the eyes of anyone.

What at last they saw the sun sinking into the sea, the boys realized they were long overdue to let their family know where they were.
"Oh dear," Jerry moaned, "We're going to be in big trouble."
"I doubt anyone will miss us," Derek said.
"Chris sure won't," Jared added.
"All the same," said Jerry, "I think we need to get back."
"Do you really have to go?"
Jared sighed. "Yeah, we have to go."
All of them moaned and disappointment filled their eyes. They looked mournfuly at each other for several moments.
"Will you be back soon?" Selene inquired.
"I don't know," Derek answered. "Chris lives here at the coast, but we all live inland, in Colorado."
"Oh," the girl sighed. "So I won't be seeing you again?"
"Yes you will," Jared responded. "We'll come back, I'm sure of it.We can't forget such a fun day, or our new friend."
"No way," Jerry concurred. "We'll be back, maybe next summer."
"I guess I'll wait 'till then," Selene smiled hopefully.
The boys said their goodbyes, exited the water and hiked their way up the rocks. Selene waved to them, and then disappeared beneath the water and out the mouth of the bay. The sun fell below the horizon and set, not only on the world, but on the innocence of the happy children.

Seven years later...
Jared slammed the front door after himself. The crash echoed throughout the house. The silverware and chine on display rattled precariously on their hooks. Silence followed or a moment until Jared stomped his way up the stairs to his room.
"Something wrong?" Aunt Clair asked. Jared's response was a slam of his bedroom door.
Derek looked up from the computer. Jared had often come home late from school in a foul mood, but the intensity of the slamming doors meant that today was profoundly worse. He paused his game and walked up the stairs, then knocked on the door tentatively.
"What do you want?" Jared barked through the door.
"It's me," Derek answered. "You want to talk?"
"If my door is locked, does it look like I want to talk?"
"Come on Jared, we could always talk."
"But usually it was always me comforting you with your problems."
"Well, maybe it could be my turn for a while." Derek waited for a few minutes, and then the click of a door being unlocked followed. Jared opened the door softly. His face was red with tears and dried blood.
"Jared!" Derek exclaimed. "What happened?"
"I failed my test."
"Why are you bleeding?"
"That's something I'd rather not discuss. Come on in..."
Derek stepped into the room. To his surprise, it was a huge mess. Jared had always been so tidy. TO see his clothes and papers all over in such a manner was most distressing.
"So, what happened?" Derek looked again at his older brother ragged face.
Jared sighed, "I stayed after school to take the test again."
"The one for college?"
"Yeah, that one. I know I could do it, I'm smart enough. I know all the concepts... But for some reason I just struggled. I'm pretty sure I failed."
"Oh, come one, Jared, I know you did fine."
"not good enough. Not as good as I know I can be. I want to be able to go to a good school, away from..."
"Away from all of us?" Derek looked concerned.
"Just away from Aunt Clair. It's not like I wanted to live with her since..."
"Stop it! You always told me to be grateful for her since they died. Now I'm telling you. If it weren't for her charity, where would we be?"
"I won't have my fifteen-year-old brother spit my own words back at me! Yes, Clair was certainly kind enough, but its not like we were made welcome. Especially with Chris..."
"Yeah, well, nobody knows where he is now, so don't worry about him any more. So that all explains the issue with the test... What about your... face?"
"I told you I don't want to talk about it."
"Come on Jared, I always told you my problems..."
"Hah! I highly doubt that. But, if it will make you stop lecturing, I'll tell. I got in a fight with Jeremy Robins."
"Jared! That buy's huge! Why would you do that?"
"You think I started it? I simply asked Anna a question; I didn't know she was his current girlfriend."
"His car is his girlfriend. His girl is his ride."
Jared almost smiled, but didn't. "Whatever. I know all about him."
"Well, did the school do anything?"
"It was off school grounds and long past time school ended. Nobody could have done anything if they were even around."
"So, what? You just come home after... that?"
"If you could call this home," Jared snorted.
"Jared..."
"No! Stop it! I'm sick of this, I'm sick of everything! Just get out and leave me alone!"
Derek obeyed. He walked out and closed the door quietly behind him. Clair was coming up the stairs. "What's wrong with Jared?" she asked.
"He's had a really bad day. I guess he'll talk more after he's cooled down."
Clair bought his lie. "Alright then, but make sure he knows when dinner is ready." As she walked away, Derek grumbled, "I wonder if he will even eat today."
Derek went downstairs shut down the computer and went into his room. Small tears began to wet his eyes. Jared was having it bad. He had taken the entire burden on himself when... It wasn't fair. None of it was fair. Only a day before they were having fun on the beach--he couldn't remember what they were doing--with no troubles at all. Afterwards, their entire world was shattered.

Jared sat silently, soaking in the loneliness of his room. His neatness had diminished, everything was a mess, but he didn't care. Other kids had rooms like this and they seemed to function just fine.
He stared silently at the blankness of the room, now seeming to be full of absolutely nothing worthwhile. His eyes turned outwards to the window. Out beyond Los Angeles and its lesser cities, the massive blue blanket stretched out into infinity, Having lived in Colorado for the first half of his life, the ocean remained a strange and foreign thing to him. It was absolutely huge, beyond anything he had ever seen before. He was amazed all the these people who lived next to it all the time took it for granted.
A car rolling into Clair's house caught his eye. It was shabby, an old taxi with a desperate need for new pain. it noisily came to a stop and the back door opened wide. out stumbled a tall man with greasy hair and dirty clothes. Jared scowled. Who was this?
He paid the driver a couple of bills and swaggered toward the house as the car drove off. When Jared saw is face, his scowl turned into a deathly glare. After more than a year of disappearing into nowhere, his cousin Chris was back.

Without knocking, Chris sloppily strode in shouting to the whole household, "Lucy, I'm home!"
Derek and Jared scoffed. What a terrible cliche. Apparently Chris had not gained a sense of originality while he was away.he also seemed to have forgotten the concept of showering or washing. Chris looked like one of those bums from downtown L.A., which he probably was. He sure smelled like one of them, and his attitude was certainly worse.
"Ah! I see my little cousins are still here... Haven't gotten around to applying for a job yet?"
"It doesn't look like you're doing too well yourself," Jared growled.
Chris smiled like the drunken fool he obviously was. "Yeah, well, at least I have been out in the real world."
"You know we're still in school, right?" Derek asked spitefully.
"Oh, right. Still in the high school phase, of course."
Aunt Clair came down the stairs, both irritate and ecstatic. "Chris, my boy, where in the world have you been?"
"Oh, Mom, I've been in town this whole time. Got myself some work and an apartment."
"So now you've decided to visit your dear old mother?"
"Well, sort of... I've kind of hit a rough patch in my life, and, well, I kind of need a place to stay."
"Oh," Clair paused, "I see... Well, you can have your old room again. There are a few things stored in there... But you can move them."
"Thanks, Mom," the twenty-year-old smiled.
The bum went into his room, having absolutely no luggage of his own. Derek and Jared walked slowly upstairs.
"Well, this day just keeps getting better," Jared whispered.
"He doesn't look very good."
"Hus looks aren't the worst thing about him," Jared corrected, He shivered in disgust. "I suddenly feel like going to bed."
"What about your homework?"
"Don't have any... Never really do."
"Well, isn't that something to be grateful for?"
"Shut up."
Derek was silent until they parted and entered their separate rooms. The sun was just setting, but for the both of them, the day was long past time to end.

Jared and Derek came home together from school, forsaking any social interaction. They walked through the door to find an unfamiliar, yet much expected sight. Chris lay strewn about on the den's couch, snoring away. Empty cans of beer and soda littered the floor, accompanied by dumped out bags of junk food.
"Huh," Jared flared. "Looks like Chris hasn't changed at all."
"Come one, Jared, ignore him."
"If he continues like this, nobody will have any food in this house, or any place relax."
"Jared," Derek began to change the subject. "Ca I ask your opinion about something?"
The elder brother's attention shifted to his sibling. "What? Let's go up to your room and talk."
When they had closed the door, Derek sat on his bed and Jared leaned against the closet.
"Well, what is it?"
Derek hesitated, wondering how he should word his thoughts. He decided to come straight out with it. "I want to go out for football."
Jared said nothing for a while, not sure he heard him clearly. "What was that?"
"I'm big enough, and I always like playing it with my friends in the park. I want to try high school football. What do you think?"
His brother shook his head in disbelief. "What do I think? Do you have any idea what you would be doing? Do you know what those jocks are like? they will tear you apart."
"Derek frowned. "I'm a big guy, I could take them."
"Do you have any idea what you'd be doing?" Jared repeated.
"Yeah, well, sort of... But that's just it,I want to learn. I think it would be a lot of fun."
"I doubt it. People like Jeremy have been playing in those leagues since they were three. You can't expect to suddenly just join the club without any background."
"I don't think it would be like that..."
"No? I'm a senior, Derek; I've been at the school a lot onger than you. I know how it all works there. I know how the other students are. You don't ahve a chance."
"But..."
"Do everyone a favor and save us all a bunch of grief. Don't do it, Derek. Don't leave yourself so open and vulnerable. Your life will be a lot easier for it."
"But I might regret how much fun it would be."
"Fun? Are you so naive?"
Derek's frown had grown a lot larger than Jared's. "I asked for your thoughts, Jared, and I guess I've got them now. You don't ahve to like it, but I'd really appreciate it if you could be supportive."
"Whatever," Jared shrugged carelessly.
"Mom and Dad would support my attempt."
"And guess what? They're gone."
"Jerry would, too."
"He's gone, too. You know that."
Derek rose. "I know you're upset, but don't you dare talk about them so thoughtlessly."
"Me? You're the one who brought them up. Don't you think I miss them, too? Don't you think I'm a wreck after it all?"
Derek's poise grew strong and erest in defiance and command. "We have nothing more to discuss. Now you leave!"
"Fine by me," Jared shrugged after he had turned and opened the door. When he was gone into his own room, Derek threw his head into his pillow and bawled.

The next week passed in misery and unhappiness, at least for the two brothers. Chris spent it all by eating, sleeping, and watching television each day, all day.
At the dinner table, Clair, Chris, and Jared sat silently. Derek should have arrived nearly half an hour ago. Chris sat in his usual haughty slouch. Clair sat oblivious to everything except the gradual loss of heat from the food she had prepared. Jared sat with a greatest silence of all, his face revealed nothing of how he felt. He was torn between annoyance at his brother's tardiness, yet concerned that something was very wrong.
At length, the door creaked open and Derek trudged in, looking as he did seven years: utterly beaten by sadness and pain.
"Well?" Aunt Clair asked. "How did the football thing go?"
"Wait, what?" Chris blurted stupidly. "Derek was trying out for football?What a laugh! But at least he was doing something."
Derek said nothing, but his eyes told enough.
"It went badly, didn't it?" Jared inferred. Derek looked at him with the most pitiful expression on his face.
"The coach was a jerk, and absolute douche." Derek never before had spoken so grim or rudely about somebody, and it shocked his brother. "Not only that, they using terms I had no knowledge of because I haven't really experienced such legitimate sports. The kids weren't better than the coaches either..." he trailed off.
Jared sat up straight. "It's exactly as I knew it would be. I told you before. You didn't listen."
"Shut up!" Derek shouted. "Don't act so glad for my problems. You didn't behave like this before, and I've never done so to you. I could have used a little support from any of you... But no, none of you even acknowledged that I was trying."
"What are you saying?" Aunt Clair asked. "I'm the person who would have been paying for it."
"So? You've been supporting this worthless bum for the past week," Jared interjected. "He's been costing you more than either of us."
"What's that you said, dirt bag?" Chris rose in indignation. "You're both just worthless children without any place in the world."
"Chris..." Aunt Clair started.
"No! They're going to listen. We didn't want you brats, but your worthless parents had to go and get themselves killed. So now we're stuck with you, and fine job of being grateful you've done. It's a good thing that other whelp died, too, or else we'd have another mouth to feed!"
Jared stood up, fork clenched tightly in his fist. His cousin's drunkenness wouldn't excuse him if he continued like this. He told him so.
"You bastard! It seems you forget who 'that other whelp' was!"
"What do you care?" Chris rose up himself. "He wasn't your brother!"
Jared snarled, "You shame that term! he was too good for you after all!"
All three adults yelled at each other until Aunt Clair broke into tears. At that point, everyone left to their rooms, disregarding the untouched dinner.Almost simultaneously, three doors slammed shut for the night.

Clair was still heavy with tears as she prepared herself for bed. Perhaps sleep was all everyone needed. A good night's rest would improve everyone's attitudes. Int he morning all would be right again. Jared and Derek would continue succeeding in school; Chris would continue his job search which he was hard at work at. Everything would be as it should be.
During the night however, she had trouble sleeping. She checked her clock. It was nearly three thirty in the morning. All of California should be asleep, figuratively speaking, of course.Still, something was wrong. She turned on her lamp. The old picture of her husband was illuminated. Clair smiled sadly for a moment, and then noticed the drawer beneath the lamp was disturbed. She opened it and covered her mouth with her hand. Her deceased husband's gun was missing.

The night was quiet for Jared, simply because he chose not to hear the other, irrelevant noises of the city. He stood alone, only watching the quiet tides slowly rise and fall.
Jared wasn't exactly sure where he was, but he felt for some reason he knew this place. It was like a small swimming pool, connected faintly with the rest of the global water, and completely hidden by the massive, dark rocks that piled carelessly atop one another.
The faintest light was rising over the horizon. Dawn was fast approaching. Jared had not interest in seeing another sunrise for one more day in this world. He had had it. For seven years he had endured each day, doing what he was "obligated" to do. Now he was done. He glanced thoughtfully down at the gun in his hands. It looked like such a simple instrument. And despite its various inner workings, its function and purpose was uncomplicated. It would make the pain stop. It would end his loathing and sorrow that awoke with him every morning and followed him to bed every night.
It's not like he deserved to keep breathing. Half his family was already dead, why maintain the rest? He wasn't even nice to his surviving family.
What a horrible person he had turned out to be! T top the failures and lack of sociality, he was the foulest to the one person who still cared for him, his brother. It was long past apologies. He had endured too long the ignorance of his oblivious aunt, the abuse of his wretched cousin, and his own guilt for his treatment of his brother. Now he had chance to do all of them a favor.
Jared raised the pistol to his head. He pushed the muzzle up to the temple and began to squeeze the trigger...
A tiny splash made him pause. It was probably nothing, but it did startle him. He brought down the gun and looked around for the source of the disturbance.in the dark, he saw nothing. The water was deep navy blue, there was not light that allowed him to see through it. If there was something there, he could not find it.
Jared assumed it was nothing to worry about and started again to bring the gun up. However, this time he was stopped abruptly when something pulled out his legs from under him. He fell wit a cry onto the slippery rock, and then roller into the night-chilled water. the cold came as a massive shock, but not as much as the feel of something long and smooth run by his legs.he cried out and sat up in the water that came up to his chest. He did not stand, for he had no desire to fall again. A girl popped out of the water in front of him. Something felt strange about seeing her.
"I knew you'd be back eventually!" she smiled.
"Huh?" Jared felt he must have really hit his head hard, for he noticed a long, green tail following her body. A mermaid? What the...?!
"She was about his age, and older teenager, and she looked a whole lot prettier than any of the girls at school.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"What do you mean?" the girl splashed his face. "You haven't forgotten me, have you?"
"I think I would remember meeting a mermaid before."
"Oh dear, it seems I may have hit you too hard... Your fall must have disrupted your memory."
"Look, Miss, I don't know you..."
"Sure you do!" Child-like arrogance puffed her cheeks. "I'm Selene, Jared. We played together almost seven years ago. You said you would have been back the following year. I've waiting so long for you guys to come back."
"Guys?"
"Sure. You, Derek, and Jerry..." She stopped when she saw his sorry face. "What's wrong? Where are the others?"
Thoughts began to piece together like a magic puzzle. Soon things became very clear and a tidal wave of realization and remembrance struck him.
"Selene! Now I remember you..."
"There we go!"
The shroud pf repressed childhood memories was finally lifted. With it, sudden and burning tears scalded Jared's eyes.
"What's wrong?" The mermaid came closer.
"Now I remember it all... The best day I ever had, followed by my worst..."
"Oh," Selene gasped softly and came very near him. "You can tell me what happened."
"I don't want to..." Jared sobbed, "I don't want to remember it..." He stopped when his old play-friend hugged him sympathetically. Her show of kindness loosened his tongue.
"We went home the day after we met you. We were excited for the next year to see you again. We didn't realize we never would. A drive on the freeway was yelling at his kids to stop pestering each other, or something like that. He slammed into our rear and pushed us over off an overpass. When I became conscious, I was being pulled from the wreck by paramedics. Hours later, in the hospital, they came and told me my mother, father, and our younger cousin, Jerry, had all died in the crash.
Selene said nothing. She simply embraced him again for comfort. Her body warmed the very deepest part of his soul.
"Derek and I were taken in by our Aunt Clair because she was the first to claim us. Her son, my cousin Chris, wasn't happy about it at all. He grew progressively vile the longer we stayed. He moved out a year ago, but now he's back to mooch off his mother."
"Where's Derek now?"
Tears welled in Jared's eyes. "I'm so ashamed of myself. As my life grew progressively worse, I also became abusive of my little brother. I didn't support him and I didn't listen to him... He was right about everything but I was too embittered by my life to understand."
"If you forgot all about me, why are you here now?"
"I remembered something about this place, but I didn't know what it was...I intended to..." Jared remembered the gun. He searched for it, but in wain. It was lost to the cool water, never to be found again.
"You were going to kill yourself?!" The mermaid's face was horrified at the idea.
"Yes," Jared answered shamefully. "I thought I would be doing right for everyone. I would be better... My pitiful like has lingered far past its time."
"How can you believe that? I think you're important..."
"No offense Selene, but we played together for one day. We don't know anything about each others' lives. I don't know why I've even been telling you all this."
"You're telling me because you need someone to talk to and to have understand. Nobody else would be that person, or so you led yourself to believe."
"Are you trying to make me feel better? It's not working. I realize that I've done to my brother. All e ever did was try to comfort me and try something that sounded fun to him. How did I treat him for it? I was worse than Chris ever was...because I was his older brother. He looked to me for his whole life, more so after our parents died...and Jerry..."
"Shh..." she put a finger to his lips to emphasize. She leaned her face in close to his and kissed him gently. "Things were beyond your control. Let me help you find life again, instead of ending it."
"I should be getting back," Jared spoke untruthfully, as he started to peek over the eastern horizon, like a nosy neighbor over a fence. The cold water became warm and pleasant, yet Jared continued to shiver, as if snow was falling in California. The sounds began to rise in the city while the lights went down, but neither of them noticed. They just stared at each other, learning everything they needed to know about the other through their eyes.
As the sun finally passed over the horizon and brightened the whole city, Selene wrapped her long emerald tail around Jared's shivering legs. Despite what is often said and believed about fish scales, he found her aquatic body much warmer and more enchanting than any human legs could ever be.

Derek looked up from the staring at the table when an abrupt pounding resonated at the front door. He walked quietly and cautiously to the door. On the mat stood a large police officer an a man he vaguely remembered seeing in an old picture. He was kind face, not very big, and nicely dressed.
He smiled. "You're Derek Andersen, aren't you?"
"Yeah... who's asking?"
"My name is Jacob Andersen. You can call me Uncle Jake."
Now Derek recognized him. This was his dad's younger brother, the Mormon that lived in Utah, whom they had rarely seen.
"Oh, hi..." Derek said. "Can I help you?" He regarded the officer with a suspicious glance.
"We're here to help you, son," the officer said.
"Yo! Football failure! Who's at the door?" Chris called from in the house. He strutted over to the door to see for himself. When he saw the police officer, Derek could have sworn his cousin soiled himself.
"Are you Christopher Moore?" the officer asked, knowing the answer already.
"Who's asking?" Chris squeaked.
Without another word, the officer burst in and placed a pair of handcuffs on Chris' wrists.
"What about my rights?" Chris whined.
As the officer proceeded with the usual arrest speak, Clair walked in. "What's going on here?" she asked.
The officer turned to her. "Don't worry, Miss Moore. For sheltering this drug-dealing murderer, you can come, too."
"Uhh... What's this all about?" Derek asked, dumbfounded by the sudden turn of events. Uncle Jake looked kindly at him.
"I've finally won the legal battles I promised my brother I'd fight. After much disputing with lawyers, I've finally gained custody of you and your brother."
"What?!" Clair shrieked. "First you arrest my son, now you're taking them? How? I am their legal guardian."
"Not any more," Jake unfolded a court statement. "The boys are to come with me now. This is no home for my brother's kids."
Chris snickered, gathering enough defiance to speak. "Well, you'll just be taking the one, bud. I saw Jared scuttle out last night with a gun in his hand." The officer tightened his grip on him ,forcing him to gasp.
Derek gaped. Then rage filled in him and he leaped across the foyer and assailed his wretched cousin. Uncle Jake and the police officer tried to pull him off, while Chris begged and wailed for him to stop. Derek stopped, not because he had recomposed himself, but because he then rushed up the stairs to Jared's room.
The officer held on to the crumpled and beaten Chris and took both him and Aunt Clair out to his car. Uncle Jake followed his distraught nephew upstairs.
When he opened the door to find his brother's room empty, Derek fell to his knees and wept. It was true, his brother was gone. Who knows where he could have gone to kill himself? It was too late now. As he cried, Uncle Jake knelt next to him and placed his arm across his shoulders. Despite hardly knowing him, Derek buried his face in his uncle's shirt and clung on to him tightly.
How could it end like this? Derek and Jared and been there for each other all this time. Now the one person Derek look up to was gone. He had tried to comfort his older brother before... He didn't realize Jared was so terribly depressed. If only they could have been more open to each other, more supportive. But it was too late now. Now they would never see each other again. Now Derek had only one relative left, a Mormon whom he had never known. Uncle Jake cried with his nephew empathetically, sharing the pain of having lost a dear brother.

Jared Andersen lay on a large, warm rock, the last of the mounds. Beyond lay the ever expansive ocean and his new life. Next to him, soaking in the golden warmth of the morning was the gorgeous Selene. She smiled as she lay still, swishing her tail lightly.
Jared looked at his bare body, still feeling a lingering sense of embarrassment at his nakedness. His drenched clothes sat abandoned on another rock, seemingly an eternity away.
"How much longer are we just going to sit like this?" he asked.
"Bored already?" Selene responded without opening her eyes.
"No... I little nervous, I suppose..."
Selene opened her glimmering eyes and rolled herself on top of Jared's Chest. She looked amusingly into his eyes and kissed him long and passionately.
Jared had never felt so overjoyed in his entire life. Last night he had reached his precipice, the last moment he could endure his depression. He had stood ready to throw his whole life away in a last ditch effort to end his pain. Now he was lying with the absolutely most beautiful person in the entire world, on land or sea. Now he had a chance to start anew.
His thoughts turned to his poor brother that he feared he was abandoning to the unkind world. Somehow, Selene sensed his concern.
"Your brother's going to live a long and happy life, Jared. You should be happy. He won't forget you any more than you'll forget him. Despite everything, you two stood by each other through your troubles. Now you both get to start again. Look!"
The human named Fared Andersen kissed his new love once more. Then he turned and was astonished. His two pale legs began to disappear. In their place, long and beauteous, was a brilliant azure tail.

The Words and the Works

I need some help figuring out what this poem's about. Please tear it up. I don't get poetry.


My fingertips are slow but getting used to it
I hope I make the cut before they judge unfit
The works I've done to what i've become
To be somewhere in the middle of it

And for what I do, I find it hard to find
The words and phrases that give the slightest sign
To the works I give all that I would live
To the efforts I ever defend from Time

There's one sight I'd give it all to see
That hidden Cameras caught, and the person next to me
Was scared away by the things i'd say
To a never ending, infinite entity

You'd never shy from anything that shows
The truth about you that everybody knows
That evey sigh is a pleading cry
For tickets to a train that only goes

I look at your eyes as if we're holding hands
Or as though a blissful plane just barely lands
And now the works I make are yours to take
Not left or lost in the empty sands

Jasper-Opening Scene

This is the play I'm writing. I just wrote the opening scene, and I feel like it's lacking... any ideas?

Lights com on to a bedroom. It has a door center, a bed and a lamp left, and a closet door right. For a moment the room is empty, then KACEY walks in. She's a nondescript teenager with normal build and coloring. She's dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and is carrying a backpack. She leaves her backpack on the ground and jumps onto the bed, giggling.

KACEY: (Looks toward audience as if looking at a mirror.) Well, Kacey, you've done it. Two years you've been out of that madhouse and living normal. Two years and look where you are: Flirting with Carter Brown across the bleachers at the football game. (Sits up and fluffs hair.) He really noticed me, didn't he? (She smiles primps more energetically, still using the audience as a mirror.) Cute basketball stars don't flirt with crazy people, do they? Thank heavens I got out of Cliff's when I did, or he would never have noticed me. (A high, maniacle laugh echos around the room. KACEY looks around, scared. After a moment she continues, slightly shaken.) Like I said, good thing I got out of Cliff's... (Laugh sounds again.)... Institution when I did. So, no need to be imagining him again. Look where it got me the first time! Five years in the "Funny Farm"... (Laugh sounds again. KACEY covers her eyes and rocks back and forth.) ... So don't bring him up... don't remember him... don't remember... (Laugh sounds again, but this time you see who's laughing: a man who enters right. He is dressed in a plumb suit, carries a walking stick, and has an evil grin.) Jasper! (KACEY looks at him.)

JASPER: Hello, Kacey. Miss me?

KACEY: (Crawling backwards on her bed, away from him.) No... no... you can't... you can't be here! (She curls up again and resumes rocking.) You're not real... he's not real... when I open my eyes, he'll be gone! (She opens her eyes, and JASPER grins.)

JASPER: Not real, am I?

KACEY: Why are you here?

JASPER: I missed my favorite haunt. (He steps toward her.) You spent five years getting rid of me, and two years more I've stayed away. I figured I'd been gone long enough. (He inhales as he looks around.) It's good to be back!

KACEY: (Standing up.) I don't want you back! You ruined my life last time. I don't need you here again! (She closes the distance between them.) You don't exist. You're a figment of my imagination. If I say you'll be gone, you'll be gone.

JASPER: (Giving a mocking bow.) As you wish. (He walks out. KACEY collapses onto her bed, looking relieved. The maniacal laughter sounds again, and the lights black.)

Jason 4-revised

I changed a few things, and may make more in the future. But tell me what you think of this last edition.


He stared at her. So she stared at him. He didn’t say anything. So neither did she. He stepped inside and shut the door behind him, not taking his eyes off her, not even blinking. The radiator was hissing. The light above the kitchen space buzzed. After a minute, he looked away, scratching the back of his head.
The girl was sitting, clutching her carrion that once was a rabbit-shaped backpack, on the countertop between the stove and fridge. There was an open cupboard just over her as if she had been looking for something when she heard someone kicking at the door.
The big man was now coming towards her. She clutched her rabbit closer and held her breath. He seemed to notice, and with his hands almost raised in surrender, went to the fridge. She watched him pull out a jar, shut the fridge, walk around her to the drawer beside the stove, and select out a spoon. Retreating to the dusty, dark brown kitchen table, he sat down opposite her. She monitored him unscrewing the jar and digging his spoon deep into it. She could smell the peanut butter. Excavating out a mountain of the stuff on his spoon, he stretched his mouth wide and stuffed the whole thing in. She gulped.
Jason looked up at her on her perch; glanced at the time on the oven; looked down at his jar for another scoop; grunted a little as he tried to swallow the creamy, sticky dollop; peered outside at something fascinating through the window. Back at the girl, back at the jar...
She fought it the best she could, but involuntarily, her mouth screwed up to her nose and her eyebrows knit. She hugged her rabbit even tighter, but the growl escaped her stomach, roaring at Jason and his peanut butter. The big man looked up, eyeing her for a moment, and swallowed. Then he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He stood up, scraping the sides for the last of the peanut butter in the jar. He offered the mound to her.
Jason could tell she wanted it; her eyes went large and she licked her lips. But she hesitated before decidedly shaking her head. He was thinking something along the lines of “Monkey see, monkey do,” so he licked off a bit of the peanut butter from the top. Maybe he thought to show her it was alright. He offered it again. The girl could only forebear a few seconds of him nodding, a half smile twitching at the corner of his mouth, before she tentatively took the spoon’s handle and crammed in as much peanut as she could close her mouth around. She returned the spoon and remaining peanut butter and couldn’t help loudly uttering a blissful, “Mmmmmmmnufgh,” as she chewed and swallowed with some difficulty.
He smiled a little as he finished it off.

It was a quarter past midnight and from what little experience Jason had with kids, he knew this was too late for a little girl who looked about six; she couldn’t keep her eyes open just sitting there on the counter.
“So,” Jason said. His big bass voice startled her from her dozing, but he only got a “Nuh,” in reply.
“So... where you sleeping tonight?”
She opened her mouth to answer, but wound up yawning instead.
"I... um... don't..." Her eyes glazed over and—pop!—she slumped over and started snoring on the counter.
This was the problem. Jason didn’t have a bed. He usually just stretched out on the couch, but somehow he found himself scooping up the limp kid and settling her down on the sofa instead. Just great, he thought. Where do I sleep?

It was still dark outside when the little girl’s eyes popped open. She flung the leather jacket off of her. It smelled like peanuts and cigarettes. After only two seconds of shivering and goose bumps rapidly dotting her twiggy arms, she snatched it back and wrapped it around her again, whatever the smell. This house was freezing.
She looked up. There was a fly stuck in the blinds of the window above her. It sounded kind of like a cell phone on vibrate. The girl blew out her cheeks. This was boring. She sat up on the sofa that was more or less blue. Tentatively, she stuck her foot out and reached the grey carpet. How weird! She’d slept with her socks and shoes on! And her day clothes! Funny!
The room she’d woken up in looked like halves of two separate rooms glued to each other. The half she was in was like a living room, while the other looked like a diminutive form of a kitchen that didn’t even have a dish washer! The idea!
Bored again. With the jacket still wrapped around her like a leather cloak, she crept off the couch and to the empty doorway across from her. It opened to a hallway. To the left was distant door ajar, and to the right was closer room and the door was wide open and she could see tile and a toilet—hooray!
It was tiny. The sink, toilet, and shower were crammed together; a person wouldn’t have to even walk to get from one to another. After relieving herself, Jenny tried to balance on the toilet (lid down) while washing her hands. Only, the soap in the bottle was so low, the pump couldn’t reach it, so she unscrewed the top. The pale blue soap was taking forever to ooze down the side so Jenny began hitting the end against her palm. See, the bottle was so gunky with old soap that it slipped from her tiny grip and plunked into the water in the sink, water pouring over it. Jenny tried to pick it back up, except old soap is even slicker when it mixes with water. Eventually, she just stuck her fingers inside the bottle and gleaned what soap she could off the sides. There weren’t any towels, so Jenny just wiped her fingers on her pinafore.
Next order of business: find the rest of the house. Off she scampered, no longer worried about noise. She had warmed up plenty with energizing curiosity, but still towed the jacket behind her like the wake of discovery, and her rabbit tucked resolutely under her arm. She was disappointed, though, when she came to the other end of the short hallway.
The room was a let-down. It had the same grey carpet, same white walls, all of which were bare, and the only furniture was a naked mattress on a metal frame. She climbed onto the bed and the springs groaned underneath her featherweight. She flopped down face up and tried to imagine it with sheets and a pillow. It wasn’t particularly soft and had colorful, questionable stains. She slid off and jumped in front of the shuttered window in the corner of the room. Jenny wormed her fingers in between the blinds and peered through. Below, she could see the parking lot, a few cars, and the alleyway she’d followed the man into. But this little house was high enough that she could see farther. The mountains were blue behind all the advertisement signs. To her right was the hill, where all the rich people lived in their small mansions. On the top, she could see one house looming over the rest, casting a shadow over the entire hill as the sun rose behind it.
“What are you doing in here?”
Jenny whipped around to find the Big Man in the doorway.
“What are you looking at?”
Jenny glanced back at the shadowy mansion. “Nothing,” she whispered.
The Big Man shifted uncomfortably and scratched the side of his face. The doorway looked too narrow for him.

Jason racked his brain. What did you do with kids? He knew people said they were another mouth to feed.
“You probably want breakfast?” The girl nodded.
In the kitchen, while the girl sat patiently at the table, her rabbit resting across her lap, Jason rummaged through cupboards and drawers. Eggs? He thought, Bacon? Toast?
He found leftover takeout, something green and smelling somewhat of eggs, a Salisbury steak TV dinner, and peanut butter. Further investigation of the cupboards produced three more unopened jars of peanut butter, and one-and-a-half boxes of granola bars. No milk, no toast. Oh well.
Luckily, the girl didn’t really notice the lack of eggs or bacon. All she seemed to see is that it was real. She eagerly stuffed her hand into a granola bar box and withdrew three. Jason chose the take out and seated himself across from her. (He did throw the green stuff away).
Somewhere between takeout and peanut butter, Jason stuck out his hand. “Jason. …I think,” He said. The girl only hesitated a moment as she swallowed granola before grabbing his thumb. “Jenny, I think,” she said with a giggle.

Point of View Dilemma...

I began this story, and a ways in I decided to change it from 3rd to 1st person... which do you like better? Here they are:

The ancient armchair sighed as Kate jumped on it before curling up and looking expectantly at her mother. Eleanor Tucker sat herself in her favorite rocker and opened the well-used book Kate had chosen for this night’s bedtime stories. It was one of their favorites, and even though they had read it many times Eleanor did not complain about the choice.

They sat by a roaring fire together in a small parlor next to the library, which Eleanor deemed unsuitable for bedtime stories because she considered it “cavernous.” Kate smiled as her mother began to read; the beginning was her favorite part. “Once upon a time there was a girl. This girl was not a princess, nor was she engaged to a prince. She was an ordinary girl, and that was exactly what everyone called her: Ordinary Jane. But, one not-so-sunny afternoon she became not so ordinary; in fact, she became extraordinary…” And so it was that Eleanor kept reading, even once her daughter had fallen into a doze, her head on the arm of her chair. Only when the clock struck midnight did she finally wake her daughter and send her off to bed.

The next night Kate insisted that her mother go back to where she had left off. “Mu-um!” she whined, in as whiney a voice as a thirteen-year-old can manage, “You weren’t supposed to read ahead anyway! Go back to when Jane hides in the woods.” Eleanor, smiling slightly, flipped back to the part where a mob chases not-so-Ordinary Jane into hiding in the woods. This night Kate did not dose. She sat, enthralled, as the tale of a girl of no special circumstances has to fight for her own survival and for the survival of her world unfolded from the pages of the book. It was a perfectly marvelous evening.

As the clock stuck eleven, however, something happened that halted their story-reading. A crashing sound came from the library, and as though she knew exactly what had just happened Eleanor grabbed her daughter’s arm. She said quickly and urgently, “Run; run to Grandmother Edwards’ home in Medina. It is the big white house on the Main Street. Run now,” and as they heard the men entering the hall she had screamed, “Run now!!”

So Kate ran; she ran down the hall, faster as she heard the men yelling after her. She dashed around a corner and ducked behind a tapestry where a secret passage lay. Before she ran through the roughly carved hidden passage she paused to lean around the corner and watch. What she saw drove her to tears. There was a legion of men in black and red capes. They all ad black cloth obscuring their faces, and most of them carried knives. Two men of the in black capes were holding her twisting and writhing mother, one holding each wrist. As she watched, a man in a red cape came up behind Eleanor and put a knife to her throat. The man whispered something that Kate couldn’t hear. Whatever it was must have been convincing, for her mother stopped struggling and went meekly along with them. When Eleanor’s captors cleared the hallway Kate saw clearly tongues of flame leaping up the hallway. Tears clouded her eyes as she turned and ran up the roughly-carved tunnel. She knew the fire had been started using her books as kindling.

Rain started falling on Kate’s face as she ran from the burning home behind her. Once she reached the cool security of the trees she turned and looked at her home. The flames were now reaching the upper levels. As she watched glass windows shattered from the heat and her tower bedroom, until now untouched, went up in flames like a torch. As she grasped the full severity of the situation tears began to join the raindrops on her cheeks. Everything she had ever known was being destroyed before her eyes. Her home, her safety, her mother— Before she knew what she was doing she had collapsed onto the sodden grass and was sobbing uncontrollably. It took a few minutes of uninterrupted weeping before she was able to think straight enough to comprehend her mother’s instructions: “Run; run to Grandmother Edwards’ home in Medina. It is the big white house on the Main Street. Run now… run now!!” Kate stood even as she continued to sob. Run, she thought, run. Knowing she had somewhere to go gave her comfort, even if she had never met this said grandmother. She knew Grandmother Edwards and her mother didn’t get along, but since I have no other choice, Kate thought as she began running toward Medina, I hope she doesn’t hold that against me.

The morning dawned as a warm yellow sun rested upon the rain-soaked figure lying on the side of the road. Kate had run until she could no more, then had walked until she collapsed around four in the morning. Now the late winter sun was just rising hours later. Panicked at her loss of time Kate set off at once, now keeping to the trees that lined to road.

Even though she was drained and frightened she couldn’t help but notice the variety of people that were traveling this road between Napier and Medina. There were many, many normal people that were merely going from one place to the other, but there were also litters of the rich being carried by servants, caravans of merchants selling foreign spices and cloth to fellow travelers, and even a hooded man on a camel. When she saw this one Kate couldn’t help but wonder how an animal from such a warm dry climate could survive the wet and cold winters of small, but northern-set, Saskia.

For most of the journey Kate kept to the trees, although at times the trees thinned out or disappeared completely. When this happened she had to walk on the roads, feeling very self-conscious of her thin white nightgown brushing her ankles, mussed hair, and delicate slippers. And, when she thought about it, she must have a great deal of dirt and ash on her as well. No wonder people are avoiding my eyes, she thought, watching a man with a large pack glance at her and hurry away.

It was nearing lunchtime when finally, hungry and exhausted, Kate reached Medina. It was large and brimming with people. The Main Street was easily recognizable: it was by far the widest and the busiest. Right in the middle of town were some high-end houses, and only one was white. Kate, knowing she must look a mess, marched up to the front door and boldly rang the bell, feeling very brave. As soon as the door was opened, however, she cowered back, feeling quite small again. The tallest and most abhorrent-looking lady Kate had ever laid eyes on opened the door. She had a large beak of a nose and small suspicious eyes under extremely bushy eyebrows. Her black hair was pulled back in a bun and her plain dress was iron grey. Kate was reminded of a vulture staring down from a high branch in a dead tree. “Yes?” the lady said in a low, sharp voice.

Kate gulped. “I’m Kate. I’ve come to see Mrs. Edwards.”

The bird-woman sniffed haughtily and said in a demeaning tone, “The duchess,” she put special emphasis on the word as if to point out the ignorance of calling a duchess “Mrs.”, “does not have time for badly-dressed commonfolk like yourself. Go grovel somewhere else, vagrant.” The door swung shut, but before it did, Kate distinctly heard the woman mutter the word, “Disgusting.” (The woman’s name is Cholena, which means Bird, although I do not think she will be important.)

Kate, discouraged and offended, turned and ambled down the steps. Now what? Somewhere in the back of her mind she realized that she would have to clean up and, if she could, change before she attempted again to see her grandmother. But the thought of trying to find food and clothing in the largeness of Medina worried her. Feeling like this was going to be harder than she had anticipated, Kate began to wander the streets. Occasionally she would stop and sit on doorsteps or patches of grass to think and rest. During one such time the owner of the step she was sitting on came out with some bread and water, but would not involve herself any more. Wanderers and beggars were looked down upon in Saskian society, especially in the large cities. The rich believed that if they could earn money then the beggar could too. That was what Kate had believed until last night, but now…

It was night before Kate realized she was hungry again. She had spent the day roaming and searching, and now the streets were dark; the lamps that were lit on the corners did nothing for the shadowy stretches in-between. Kate began to feel anxious as the city seemed to empty around her. Soon she was alone on a dark avenue in the second largest city in all of Saskia.

Alone…alone… only now did she feel the true meaning of the word. Once her mother had gone calling and left her at home with the cook, amid, and gardener. After hours of reading by herself in the library Kate heard the familiar clicking of her mother’s boots in the hall. Springing to her feet she ran and embraced her mother, crying, “Don’t ever leave me alone again!”

Now Kate realized that that was boredom, not true loneliness. As she wandered the dark deserted streets, shivering and famished, she would have given anything to be bored again.

Kate fell asleep in the gutter. She woke up to an odd shuffling noise in the earliest hours of the morning. Starting, she looked around and saw a circle of men closing in around her. Kate was immediately seized by a jolt of fear, but these were not the men in red and black capes. These men had no such finery. They wore dirty, ripped trousers and many had no shirts. Their teeth were rotted and their eyes were wild. They stank of putrid cabbage.

Without a second thought Kate began to run. She burst between two men, and before they realized what had happened she had disappeared around the corner.

She heard shouts and attempted pursuit behind her, but she was so frightened and the men so worn that Kate was soon out of sight. However she didn’t stop running. In a panic she ran clear out of town and into the nearby wood. As soon as she entered the trees a cool only the forest can create fell around her, and she shivered. The sounds of hoot owls and crickets assaulted her eardrums. Wondering what she got herself into she pressed on. Tree branches stuck to her hair and clothing. Not so long after she entered the wood she came upon a creek. Feeling glad she could finally get away from the scratching brambles she hopped in and began to walk. Despite the fact the stream was only a few inches deep her shoes were instantly soaked. Disregarding this, Kate continued on until she found an open bank to sit on. As soon as she sat exhaustion caught up with her, and for the second time in two days she fainted into sleep.

Chapter One Revised

The ancient armchair sighed as I jumped onto it before curling into a ball and looking expectantly at Mother. She smiled at me and sat herself down in her favorite rocker and opened my favorite book, now well worn from so much use.

We sat together by the roaring fire in the parlor next to the library, which Mother had deemed too “cavernous” for cozy bedtime stories. As Mother began I smiled and listened intently; the beginning was my favorite part. “Once upon a time,” she read, “there was a girl. This girl was not a princess, nor was she engaged to a prince. She was an ordinary girl, and that was exactly what everyone called her: Ordinary Jane. But, one not-so-sunny afternoon she became not-so-ordinary; in fact, she became extraordinary…” I soon dozed off, my head on the arm of the chair. When Mother woke me up at midnight to take me off to bed I saw she was significantly farther into it than she had been when I had fallen asleep.

The next night I insisted she went back to where I left off. “Mu-um!” I whined, or tried to, because once you pass a certain age you lose the ability to whine, “You weren’t even supposed to read ahead anyway! Go back to the part where Jane hides in the woods.” Mother, smiling slightly, flipped many pages back to read about when a mob chased not-so-Ordinary Jane into hiding in the woods. This time I stayed awake and alert, enthralled at the tale of a girl of no special circumstances having to fight for her own survival and the survival of her world as it unfolded from the pages of the book.

As the clock struck eleven something happened that halted our story reading. A crashing sound came from the library, and as though she knew exactly what had happened Mother grabbed my arm and whispered urgently in my ear, “Run; run to Grandmother Edwards’ home in Medina. It is the big white house on the main street. Run now,” we heard men entering the hall, and she screamed, “Run now!”

So I ran; I ran down the hall, faster as I heard men yelling after me. I dashed around a corner and ducked behind a tapestry that concealed a secret tunnel. I had often hidden there for hide-and-seek games as a young child, and found it more cramped than I remembered it. I knew I should run, but curiosity overwhelmed me, and I poked my head out from behind and around the corner to watch. I had to stifle a sob as I saw strangers in red and black capes with black cloth obscuring their faces filling the hall. There were dozens of them! As I watched, two men in black came out of the parlor with my mother, one holding each wrist. A man in a red cape came up to her and put a knife to her throat as he whispered something in her ear that I couldn’t hear. I noticed the red man was not the only one with a knife. Whatever he said must have been convincing, because Mother stopped struggling and went meekly along with them. When her captors had cleared the hallway I had a perfect view of the wicked tongues of flame leaping from our library into the hall. I began to cry as I turned and ran up the passage. I had no doubt those men had started the fire using our books as kindling.

The fire spread faster than I could run. By the time I reached the tunnel exit I was choking on smoke. The rain that fell outside felt refreshing after the stifling heat. I ran nonstop until I reached the cool security of our border of trees. Once there I felt safe enough to stop and rest. After a few rejuvenating gulps of air I turned to watch my home burn. The flames were now reaching the upper levels. As I watched the glass windows shattered from the heat and my tower bedroom, so far untouched, went up like a torch. It was only then I grasped the full severity of the situation; only then did I realize I was homeless and alone with a band of men that might be looking for me. Before I knew it I was on the ground sobbing hopelessly. After a few minutes of uninterrupted weeping I felt my mind clear and I remembered my mother’s instructions: Run to Grandmother Edwards’ home in Medina. Even as I continued to cry I stood and stumbled toward the gates. Knowing I had somewhere to go gave me comfort, even though I had never met this said grandmother. All I knew was my mother didn’t get along well with Grandmother Edwards, but since I didn’t have a choice, I could only hope she didn’t hold that against me.

The morning dawned as a warm yellow sun rested upon my cold, rain-soaked body as I slept in the gutter next to the road. After leaving my home, I had run until I could run no more, and then walked until I collapsed in my current position around four in the morning. Now I could see the late morning sun rising in the east sky. Panicked at the loss of time I scrambled at my feet and set off at a quick walk, now keeping to the trees to avoid prying eyes.

Even in my drained and frightened state, I was fascinated by the variety of people traveling on the road between Napier and Medina. There were many, many normal people that were merely going from one place to another, but there were also litters of the rich being carried by servants, caravans of merchants selling foreign spices and cloth to fellow travelers, and even a hooded man on a camel. When I saw this one I couldn’t help but wonder how an animal from such a warm, dry climate could survive the wet and cold winters of small, northern-set Saskia.

For most of the journey I kept to the trees, although at times the trees thinned out or disappeared completely. When this happened I had to walk on the road. I felt self-conscious and horribly exposed in my ankle-length, thin, white nightgown, mussed hair and delicate slippers. Not to mention I was covered in ash and dirt. I tried not to attract attention, but I did anyway. One man came up next to me, and when he glanced my way he quickly averted his eyes and sped up, away from me.

It was nearly lunchtime when finally, hungry and exhausted, I reached Medina. It was larger than my small hometown of Napier, and brimming with people. The main street was easily recognizable; it was by far the widest and the busiest. Right in he middle of town were some high-end homes, and only one was white. It towered above the rest, with two black gargoyles perched over the doorway like a sentry. I marched right up to it, despite knowing that I looked like a homeless person with no sense of hygiene. I ran up the front steps two at a time, feeling very brave, and rang the bell. As soon as the door opened, however, I cowered back, feeling quite small again. The tallest and most abhorrent-looking lady I had ever laid eyes on opened the door. She had a large beak of a nose and small suspicious eyes under extremely bushy eyebrows. Her black hair was sleeked back into a bun and her plain dress was iron grey. I couldn’t help being reminded of a vulture staring down from a high branch on a dead tree as she looked down at me. “Yes?” she said in low, sharp voice.

I gulped. “I’m Kate—Kathrine Tucker. My mother is Elinor Tucker. I’m here to see Mrs. Edwards. She’s my grandmother,” I added quickly, trying to press my case.

The bird-woman sniffed haughtily and said in a demeaning tone, “The duchess,” she put special emphasis on the word as if to point out my ignorance in calling a duchess “Missus”, “Does not have time for badly-dressed commonfolk like yourself. Go grovel somewhere else, vagrant.” The door began to swing closed but, in a last desperate attempt, I grabbed her arm before it disappeared behind the black wood.

“Please!” I nearly screamed, “Please, she’s my grandmother! She can find it in her heart to help her own granddaughter, can’t she?” I could tell from the woman’s face she didn’t believe me.

“Her ladyship doesn’t have any children,” she said. This time she succeeded in slamming the door, but not before I heard her mutter the word, “Disgusting.”

I turned around and ambled down the steps, feeling discouraged and, frankly, offended. One night of agony and homelessness was not enough to label me a “vagrant.” I sighed and sat on the bottommost of my grandmother’s high-and-mighty steps. Now what? My one place of safety had been denied me, and I knew it wouldn’t be smart to try again until I cleaned up. But the thought of trying to find food and clothing in the largeness of Medina frightened me, not to mention that I had not a penny to my name. Feeling like this was going to be harder than I anticipated, I stood up and began to hopelessly wander the streets. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular, maybe a kind soul with food or housing for me. Once when I stopped to rest on a doorstep and the owner of the house brought out food and water for me. After she shoved it into my hand I turned to thank her and maybe ask her for advice, but she had shut the door with a sharp click before a sound came out of my mouth. I devoured the bread and drained the cup in minutes. Once it was gone I wished for more, but I stood and walked away, leaving the cup on the step, hoping that she could sense my gratitude.

No one else really paid attention to me. The beggars and the homeless were looked down upon in Saskian society; they were thought to be pathetic, lazy, and unclean. I had thought that, too, until that day. I then realized that most beggars and homeless were just unlucky, and looked lazy because they were always hungry. As for unclean… I couldn’t help but smile as I caught a look at myself in a still puddle by the street. My shoulder-length auburn hair was matted, dirty, and falling out of the ribbon. My face was covered in dirt and soot, just like I had predicted, but it also looked sad, pinched, and desperate. My smile looked fake, and I quickly put on a face worthy of a funeral. That seemed to fit more. I tried to comb through my hair and replaced the ribbon. I washed my face, but my clothing was still a problem. A dirty nightdress surely drew unwanted attention. But, I couldn’t do anything about it, so I tried as hard as I could to avoid people’s eyes as I walked down the quickly darkening street.

It was night before I realized I was hungry again. But, now that it was night there would be no friendly doors opened to me. Dark things happened at night, especially in big cities; I had been told stories about kidnappers and murderers wandering the streets, looking for children out after dark. Mostly these were told to discourage willful children from running away at night, but I couldn’t help remembering the stories as the lamps were lit and daylight disappeared completely. The lamps’ light was limited, and as I settled down to rest in the ally by a well-lit building I was not afraid. I was terrified.

Alone…alone… only now did I feel the true meaning of the word. Once Mother had gone away for a day, leaving me home with the cook. After hours of reading by myself in the library, I had heard the familiar click of Mother’s boots in the hallway. My first words as I hugged her tight were, “Never leave me alone again!”

Now I realized that had been boredom, not true loneliness. As I wandered the deserted streets, shivering and famished, I would have done anything to be bored again.

I woke in the middle of the night to an odd shuffling noise around me. My stiff body was complaining because of my position on the hard earth, but any discomfort was quickly forgotten as I saw what had woken me. A circle of men was closing in around me. I felt a moment of panic before I realized these were not men in red and black capes. These men had no such finery. They wore dirty, ripped trousers and many had no shirts. Their teeth were rotted and their eyes were wild. They stank of putrid cabbage.

Without a second thought I trusted my instinct and began to run. I burst between two men, and before they realized what had happened I had turned a corner and disappeared.

I heard shouts and attempted pursuit behind me, but I was so frightened and the men so worn that I soon couldn’t hear them anymore. In my panic, I didn’t stop running. I ran clear out of town and into a nearby wood. As soon as I entered the trees a cool only the forest could create fell around me, and I shivered. The sounds of hoot owls and crickets assaulted my eardrums. As I pressed on tree branches stuck to my hair and clothing, and I wondered what I had gotten myself into.

It wasn’t long before I came upon a creek. Even though the water felt like ice to my ankle, it was a relief to get away from the branches and brambles. I walked in the middle of the stream, soaking my thin shoes completely through. I continued on for a few minutes until the trees opened up to a sandy bank. Exhaustion, driven away by adrenaline, caught up with me as soon as I stopped and sat down, and for the second time in two days I fainted into sleep.