The Epic Last Day of the Year Sleep-In

Today is my favorite day of the year. You get to stay up late. You get to toast in the New Year. You get to watch movies all night. I don't have to wash dishes. And it's also the day of the Epic Last Day of the Year Sleep-In. Since one of my new year's resolutions is to get up earlier - if you get up half an hour earlier every day then you add a week and a half's worth of time to your year - I decided to see just how long I could stay in bed. In spite of the sounds of breakfast, kids playing (loudly), the sounds of lunch (I was getting pretty hungry by then), and my sister typing away maniacally on the computer, I made it until 2:30 before I was bored out of my mind and had to get up. So now I'm going to clean my room and decide which movies to watch while I wait for midnight with my sibs. Inkheart is definitely on the program, and Up, and maybe Kung Fu Panda. I don't think we'll be able to watch more than four or so. And I need to find my stash of Oreo cookies. You wouldn't believe how hard it is to keep Oreo cookies safe in this house ^_^ Happy New Years to everybody! Can I say that already? Or do I have to wait until it's actually New Years?

NOOO!!

NOOO! *sniffle* My baby just left! I won't see him again for like...well, a whole day!

Lists

I love lists and it i s time for me to write my favorite one - 25 things for me to do in the year 2010. So far I've come up with eight things.

1. Graduate
2. Score higher on the ACT
3. Learn to drive
4. Finish the Promise Trilogy/Tetralogy
5. Pass Chemistry
6. Read the entire bible
7. Write 200k during NaNo
8. Be nicer to my siblings

I should probably add 'watch fewer movies' to the list but...*sigh* maybe next year.

Shhh...

EJ came home today! It feels so natural to have a baby in the house again. We got the little sign from the hospital to put in the front yard and everything. It's so much fun! I love that baby! Now if only we can convince the little kids that they need to be quiet when EJ's asleep.

Just call me Aunt Gabrielle ^_^

My nephew was born at 11:01 AM today!!!!! I could probably make this entire post just exclamation points, I am that excited!! He is the cutest little baby boy in the world; my world, anyway. He has big brown eyes and curly brown hair and he's really quiet but really alert. He likes sticking his tongue out for some reason, and it's so adorable ^_^

I barely want to let him out of my sight, but Ne-Ce made me go home *sigh*. So I have to settle for the next best thing, and stare at the pictures I took of him until I can go back to the hospital tomorrow!

I am so grateful that everything went well (even though the doctor barely showed up and the really nice nurse did all the work). I was praying so hard because when EJ was born he was so pale and so quiet, it scared me. But everything was and, God willing, will continue to be just perfect!

Now I'm going back to staring at EJ's pictures :)

Just a random thank you

Y'know, today I was printing another chapter of my book so I could edit it. And I realized how much I love printers. They're so amazing. And I love ink and white paper covered in words.

Ahem. Anyway. My point being, I have been printing my stories since I was nine years old. And my mother never complains about how much of her ink and her paper I consume. In fact, she even gave me my own computer, so I could write more words that I would inevitably want to print. So thank you, Mom. I love you. And your printer :)

Me and my conscience have a conversation

Conscience: You should edit a few pages today, at least

Me: Hm, nah

Conscience: You haven't edited a thing in thirteen days

Me: Whose counting?

Conscience: I am

Me: But why? The story sucks

Conscience: That's why we edit

Me: Easy for you to say, you don't have to do the work

Conscience: Just do one page

Me: Why?

Conscience: Because I said so

Me: Now you sound like me

Conscience: I am you, genius

Me: Sheesh, don't have to be mean about it

Conscience: Open your laptop

Me: It is open

Conscience: Close your chat windows

Me: B-b-but

Conscience: NOW!

Me: Fine. I'm going to work now. So leave me alone.

Conscience: Once you get past your first three urges to stop and get a snack, then I'll leave

Me: Fine

Conscience: Fine

Me: If Ne-Ce calls and says EJ's about to be born, I'm outta here

Conscience: Just edit, Gabrielle

Me: Fine. Right after I -

Conscience: NOW

Me: (closes chat windows and mournfully opens Word document)

Here's my cousin and best friend, Mikey, playing "Croatian Rhapsody." It's the same song I'm learning (hopefully) before the new year. It is massively long, although you can't tell, because the video cuts off. My camera batteries died.



I have performance evaluations and a recital next Monday! Wish me luck!

Gideon

Yesterday I saw my favorite horse, Gideon. I'm still trying to come up with another name for him. So far I've considered Galaxy, Aladdin, and another one that I completely forgot. Now I'm leaning towards Aladdin, because apparently Gideon thinks he's a master pickpocket.

We went for a ride and then I fed him some horse cookies, which he loves. He'd probably climb a tree for them. While he was eating, I stood in the paddock and ate my PB&J. So Gideon finishes his cookie and then "sneaks" up behind me, slips his massive head over my shoulder, and tries to snag my sandwich. It was hilarious. He thought he was being so sneaky but of course I heard him coming a mile away, plus he's massively clumsy and almost felt on top of me. Sometimes he'll come up behind you and put his head on your shoulder and just stand there forever. He's so sweet.

Actually, let me rephrase that. He's sweet to people. Wait, let me rephrase that, too. He's really a pushy, drooling brat. He gets startled easily and kicked a little kid just a few days ago. He's horrible to his brother - he'll snatch food right out of his mouth and bite him when he thinks he's getting too much attention.

But he's sweet to most people, really!

Here is a post to prove my brilliance

That title is sarcastic, of course!

Today I went to the gymnastics center. I was super excited because two days ago I did a layout full twist on the tumble track for the first time. So I figured I could do it again today without too much trouble. The first one I did went okay. I managed to get my feet under me for a landing, although I had too much momentum and flew backwards a second after. Then I got out the camera, because I wanted to show my dad.

Basically, when I try a new skill I have to stand for fifteen minutes and just think about it. Every time I come to the same conclusion - this is no big deal. The worst thing that could happen would be me breaking my neck (kidding!). But when my big sister Kyra turned the camera on me, I rushed it. I got a three quarter turn and heard this really weird cracking noise as I hit the mat and then went flying off of it.

So I got up and started walking back towards my sister and I realized my ankle was hurting. Okay, no big deal. It didn't hurt too badly. I figured I'd walk it off. A few minutes later it wasn't feeling any better, but I really didn't want to tell Kyra that I'd hurt myself because then she'd take us home, and my other two sisters who were tumbling would miss out. So I walked around a little more. Kyra kept asking what was wrong. I kept saying nothing.

Finally, I decided I'd try the full twist one more time. I did it, managed to get all the way around, and my ankle didn't hurt that much. So I did it a few more times. Didn't hurt at all. I was feeling great until we started walking out of the gym and I realized - yeah, just realized - that I was limping. Okay, still not too bad. I'd live. By the time we got in the car it hurt really badly. By the time we got home I was hopping on one foot. Now I'm sitting at my desk with my foot propped up on a pillow with ice.

The only one who came out better for my geniusness is my sister Liz, who gets to laugh every time I crawl - literally crawl, because hopping is really tiring - up the hallway.

Aren't I brilliant?

Post-NaNo and other stuff

I have discovered something incredible - to me, at least. Compared to writing a novel, Spanish and Algebra 2 aren't very hard. My mom is convinced that I have time to do Trigonometry before graduation, but I really, really don't want to.

Now that NaNo is over I'm kind of puttering around, trying to remember what I used to do every day. In a few days I'll start editing - blegh - but there's also the fun of novel swaps, which I love! When else would you get to read a bunch of novels about everything from fantasy quests to the apocalypse?

Now the doctor is saying that my nephew won't be born until the twenty-first! This guy cannot make up his mind and it's driving me insane. How am I supposed to wait that long? It's practically impossible. I'm going to go crazy waiting for little EJ. I've been waiting and waiting and - ugh. I'm stopping right now. I think I've been ranting about my nephew for forever. Even his mother probably wants me to stop :) I have ton of school and editing to do in the meantime.

How was everybody's Thanksgiving? I missed seeing my grandparents :( but I did get to spend the whole day with my sisters.

This Weekend...

I'm going to stay with my sister Ne-Ce for a few days this weekend. So I'll get to be there when my nephew is born! YAY!

I haven't been on here like all month. Oops. I can only partly blame NaNo because I haven't been doing as much writing as I'd like to have. The grand total for my word count, at the moment anyway, is 132,000 words. That's the most I've ever written in one month ever. I don't know if I'm going to make it to my 150k goal :( I did get to print out my winners certificate today and I have it hanging on the wall behind my desk. I have to turn around and look at it every now and then.

I'm about to start college applications! Eeeks! Please pray for me, because I'm sure I'll make a mess of them. I really want to go to Hollins Uni or Murray State but we shall see what God does.

NaNo

If I stare at the computer anymore, there will be words permanently burned into my eyeballs. Its been two days and around fifteen, maybe sixteen hours? since NaNoWriMo began.

I've written 33300/50000. I think I'm going to try to make 80k, though. I'm conducting numerous races with other NaNo-ers, which I'd rather not lose too badly XD.

My little sister isn't feeling well, so please everybody pray for her to get better soon.

ACT

Yay! Finished with the first ACT. They should change the name for that to something like "Four Hours of Boredom." Except for the English and Reading. Both of those were fun. I have my fingers crossed for my scores.

Only five more days until NaNo. Three more weeks until my nephew is born.

God our father is like the godfather. He makes you an offer you can't refuse.

That's what my uncle said at bible study yesterday. I thought it was funny but it's only just now occured to me how true it is. As a christian there's a place you want to get to and there's only one way there - no short cuts. Short cuts (as my dad could certainly tell you but never would) only end up getting you lost.

New Story!

I started a new novella a little while back. I love writing novellas. You don't have to make it really short, like short stories, but it's not a massive long-term thing, like a novel. Here's the first part:

1

The thing about jumping out of planes was, sooner or later you landed. And it hurt. Bridget Caseman was considering this.

“You’re making this harder on yourself.” Her captor, Jerk #1 as she had fondly named him, jabbed her in the ribs with the muzzle of his machine gun. That hurt, too, but not half as bad as her landing was going to.

The Brazilian jungle flew by in dark green shades below. She was going to land on those trees. She’d die. And even if the fall didn’t kill her – which it definitely would – the wild animals would eat her alive. Vampire bats and jaguars and man-eating ants would be stuffing their faces today. The thought of ants stuffing their faces made Bridget smile.

“Bridget?”

Oh. Right. Bridget turned her head, her fleeting moment of amusement gone. There he was. The man who was making her jump out of this plane and to her death.

“You know,” Bridget said, forcing her voice to remain steady, “You killed my parents a long time ago. I don’t remember it.”

“I’m sure you don’t.” Wesley Martin was so thin he looked like a scarecrow. The two big bodyguards always on either side of him didn’t help. His stern brown eyes gazed at Bridget. “This is really very unfortunate, that you would have to go like this. But if you refuse to tell me what I want to know then I’m afraid I have no choice.”

That was the only reason Jerk #1 hadn’t kicked her out of the plane already. The only reason Bridget had been kept alive for the harsh, multi-thousand mile trip from home sweet home Alabama to the jungles of Brazil.

“I’m not going to tell you.” Bridget’s voice faltered.

Wesley smiled. “I think you will.”

“All my family is dead, Wesley. Thanks to you, I have nothing left to lose.” Bridget held up her arm, displaying the fresh, ugly scars over it. “You’ve already tortured me.”

Wesley grimaced. “I didn’t want to do it.”

“But you did.” Bridget faced the open plane door again. She’d have to jump, sooner or later, but she was so scared. Her heart was pounding and her palms were sweating.

“God, please don’t let me die. I know you don’t want him to know what I know. Please help me.” She closed her eyes, barely even thinking the prayer, afraid Wesley would take that last bit of comfort from her. If only she had wings. If she were an angel, she could fly away. She wouldn’t be in this mess. She would have stopped Wesley from killing her parents, three years old or not, and she wouldn’t have to hide this terrible secret.

“Very well.” Wesley shrugged his shoulders. “Push her.”

Bridget didn’t even have time to protest, to cry out. Jerk #1 shoved her hard between her shoulder blades, and she tumbled through midair, screaming at the top of her lungs.

Sixteen Reasons Why Big Families Are Awesome

1) There's always someone to hang out with

2) There's always someone to bother you

3) There’s always someone to bother

4) You don’t have to do the dishes all of the time

5) There’s always someone on your side

6) There’s always someone to help with your chores

7) There’s always someone who has gum

8) You get ten times as many books from the library

9) There are ten times more friends

10) You get to share stuff like laptops and clothes

11) You never get in trouble alone

12) Everybody tells you what an awesome mom you have

13) There’s always a good joke being told

14) You have big sisters who double as chauffeurs

15) Everything gets bought in bulk, which means there are a lot of big boxes to play with

16) A four year old gets to be an uncle

More Randomness

On Saturday I spent the day at the Nashville Zoo. I always volunteer there during the summer and during special events. The event was called Harvest Days, and it’s to show people what it was like way back in the day before television and cars and stuff. Me and the next girl under me, DD, got to work at the bracelet making table. You had this really gross-smelling twine which kept unraveling and you threaded on these wooden beads. It took forever to get them on, by the way. Whenever a girl came by we’d ask if she wanted to make a bracelet. If it was a guy we’d call it a man-band. DD was cracking up about that ALL DAY. Once she gets going with a joke she’s on it like a dog on a bone :)

On Friday I watched the Two Towers. It’s kind of sad, I know, but I almost cried twice. First when Gollum was arguing with himself that Frodo was his friend, then when Gimli and Aragorn jumped into the middle of all those orcs to defend the bridge and I thought they were going to die. Gimli is hilarious. He’s my sister’s favorite character. Him and Eowyn.

LOTR 3 is waiting for me at the library! I can’t wait to watch it! I’m fast becoming a devoted LOTR fan :)

Pencil Splints, E.J, LotR, Etc.

I am so mad at myself. On Monday I had the bright idea to do my back handspring with my fingers bent backward. Turns out it's very painful. So now I'm walking around with my finger wrapped up in purple tape with a splint made out of a broken pencil holding it immobile. I can't pick anything up, my typing speed has slowed by fifty percent, and pretty much the only thing I can do easily is watch movies.

Speaking of movies, I finally watched Lord of the Rings! I love that movie. Only my and my sister Liz watched it, so nobody but her gets it when I crack a LotR-related joke. My favorite character is a tie between Aragorn and Frodo. And then the beautiful horses that the ring-wraiths were riding.

So, the doctor changed his mind for the THIRD time about when my nephew E.J is going to be born. First it was late December, then it was late November, and now it's early December. We'll see how long it is before he changes his mind again :). Ne-Ce (the eldest sister and E.J's mom) is always sleeping now. I'd call her a zombie but then she'd probably hurt me and I'm practically not even allowed to glare at her in case I hurt E.J. Back when Ne-Ce babysat me and my sibs all the time she used to make us do push-ups when we didn't listen. And now she'll randomly decide to whack somebody when we're in the car and there's a red light. That's Ne-Ce. But we love her anyway :) - even if I never did get a chance to push her into the foam-filled pit at the gym. At least I'm taller than her now.

Here is a movie my sister found on Youtube. It is really funny. Consider it rated PG cause there's some language. Enjoy

The Dark Knight Meets Superman

I'm Sixteen!

Yesterday was my sixteenth birthday and my parents bought me a laptop! It's a Toshiba and I named her (just randomly decided it was a her) Tasha. Tasha is really dark blue and makes all this funny tinkling noises whenever I open a document or something. I loooove her - it - whatever.

My other sister gave me Crazy Core Skittles, which I love. She got two bags of Sour Skittles about five days before my birthday, and those were actually going to be my present, but we got tired of waiting and we ate them. So.

Jazzy and Buddy (Mom, really, but they got to put their names on it) got me this totally awesome little carousel. I'm waiting to see how long Liz will wait before she hides it because she's tired of me winding it up all the time. And Jazzy was so sweet. Since she couldn't get me a present she wrapped up a Starburst she got with lunch and gave it to me.

I think my siblings are going to be laughing for the rest of my life at the look on my face when I opened Tasha. Zeke said my mouth was hanging open but I really don't think it was. Although I'll admit I forgot to breathe for a second...

Just Catching Up

It’s almost November!

Okay, not really, but you know what I mean. It’s almost time for NaNoWriMo. This will be my first years doing it. My friend Hannah, who I volunteered with at the zoo, told me about it but I totally forgot until we were halfway into December. Basically during NaNo – short for National Novel Writing Month – you try to write 50000 words in one month. You can’t just write fifty-thou on another story; you have to write it so the quota can stand alone. I can’t wait for that.

As for more good news, my sister Ne-Ce thinks the doctors miscalculated and that EJ will be born late November. The original date was Dec. 21. I hope she’s right. No way am I going to be able to wait until December.

We went to Nashville Shores last Friday. That was sooo much fun. We rode the Big Scream, which is crazy fun. You slide down this practically vertical wall in a big float. You should have heard my sister Kay screaming. It was hysterical. First we all rode in pairs because everybody was scared to go by themselves, then my sister Natalie decided she was going to try it alone. We practically had to drag Kay up the stairs. I offered to go first. Going by yourself isn’t half as scary as going in doubles. Go figure.

Only ten more days until my birthday! I’ll be sixteen years old and I can finally get my learners permit.

I just sent my friend MK the last chapter in my book that she’s proofreading for me. I’ll finally be done with that. It’s weird, but I feel like I can’t write anything until I’m done with that. And I wish it was November already so I could start writing on the plot I have for NaNo.

I’m pretty much just twiddling my thumbs until November, or really until school starts. I don’t go back until Sept. 8. I can certainly wait for that. I love school, except for Spanish. I can’t seem to grasp it despite the fact that my mother is pretty near fluent in it. Ugh. Whatever.

I’ve gotta’ get out of here. I’ve been challenged to write a complete main character profile in fifteen minutes. We’ll see how that goes. Gabrielle aka Erudessa

P.S What is the Elvish word for sister?

- The honor is not in the destination, but in the first step of the journey

What two qualities do you want most in your future husband?
Puts God before everything else and doesn’t care that I smile all the time
Is there a fictional character you see as a model for your future husband?
I d’know
Where do you want your wedding? On the beach, on horseback
What are your views on courtship?
I d’know. Never thought about it
What are your views on your first kiss?
I’ll be wearing a wedding dress when I give it
Do you have or want a purity ring/locket?
No. I’d probably lose it
Do you have or want a hope chest? Sort of.
Will you wear a veil at your wedding?
yes
What kind of wedding dress do you want?
A white one.
What flowers do you want in your bouquet?
Californian morning glories
What do you want to name one of your daughters?
Jillian
What do you want to name one of your sons?
Caderyn
Do you believe in the 'knight-in-shining-armor' view of courtship?
Not really
What music do you want to play at your wedding?
Taking my sisters into consideration, I probably won’t get a say
Are you a hopeless romantic?
Yes, I admit it, I am.

No idea who already got this, so sorry if you've been tagged twice. I tag Rachel Danielle, Chloe, and Elrania.

Some Random Questions

Would you rather:

Have a dog or a cat
Freeze or burn
Embarrass yourself in front of strangers or friends
Fall into water or snow
Be able to fly or be invisible
Be really funny or really smart
Be smart or well liked
Baby sit a bunch of girls or a bunch of boys

Which is worse:
Eating a pickle and peanut butter sandwich or hitting your finger with a hammer
Losing everything on your computer or the actual computer

If there was a fire and all your family was already out would you grab:
Your favorite stuffed animal or your favorite book
Your goldfish or your lizard
Your laptop or your iPod

Barnes and Nobles

Me, my mom, and Lizzy went to a writer’s group at Barnes and Nobles on Wednesday. Who’s heard of a literary prospector? Not me, obviously. That’s what the guy, Stephen Hines, is. He loves research, so he gathers all this information that nobody really knows and puts it together in books. It was kind of interesting, since I’m more of a fiction girl. Anyway, we’re going back to B and N for another talk in four weeks. And I met these really nice people, one of whom has already published a book. It was fun. I went home afterward and sat down at my computer (my mom’s really) and edited a looong chapter of my book, and sent it to my friend, who’s editing for me. I’ll hear back from her in a little while and I hope she likes it.

Waiting for the baby...

Ne-Ce was fourteen weeks, 3 days last Wednesday. It's driving me crazy waiting! It's definitely a boy, and Nece says his name is going to be Ezekiel James. I'm calling him Max, just to tease her. I am soooo excited. I love babies. They're so cool and cute and sweet and adorable and -

and I'm going to stop gushing over them right now. Later-Later.

Muffins

I have this theory about Otis Spunkmeyer chocolate chocolate-chip muffins. God was watching me crave chocolate one day and he thought, “Gabrielle is really a great kid. I’m going to do something special for her.” So he took a handful of heaven, wrapped it in plastic, and sent it down to earth. Voila. The Otis Spunkmeyer chocolate chocolate-chip muffin was born.

MOST FANTASTIC AND WODNERFULLY AWESOME NEWS EVER TOLD

Babies are the most incredible things in the world. Or out of it, for that matter. They have tiny, perfect fingers and tiny toes and those big, innocent eyes. Their hair is so soft and they’re so delicate. I love it when they hold your finger with their tiny little hand. My sister Jazzy did that until she was four. We slept on a bunk bed, her on the bottom and me on the top, and I’d dangle my arm over the side of the bed so she could hold my fingers. It was so cute. Babies have that adorable little cry and they make those little sucking noises on their pacifiers.

In case you haven’t figured it out, there’s going to be a new baby in my house in December! My big sister Ne-Ce is having a baby. She wants a girl. I want a girl, too. If it’s a girl her name is going to be Marina. I want her middle name to be Gabrielle but Ne-Ce doesn’t like it. She said we already have two Gabrielle’s, me being one and our cousin the other (it’s a total coincidence that’s my name, too; I didn’t even come up with Gabrielle, my other sister did). If it’s a boy his name will be Ezekiel James. I suggested Gabriel but she doesn’t like that, either.

I can’t wait until Marina is born!!! I want to go to the hospital when she’s born but Mom and Dad probably won’t wake me up. According to my experience, babies are always born in the middle of the night. I had this great plan. When December rolls around, I’ll keep watch every night. When Ne-Ce calls Mom and Dad to tell them it’s time, I’ll climb out my window and hide in the car. They won’t even know I’m there until it’s too late to kick me out. I told Ne-Ce my plan and she said, “Or I could just say, ‘Mom and Dad can you bring Gabrielle with you’,” like I was two years old. She’s wonderful that way.

Babies are so cool. I’m going to make Marina a hat, Liz is making her a blanket, and DD is making her bracelets. Why a newborn needs a bracelet made out of tiny beads I don’t know but who cares? Marina is going to have twenty-four aunts and uncles and twelve grandparents to spoil her. Technically fourteen of the aunts and uncles would be second cousins but they said they’d rather be fake aunts and fake uncles. My cousin Tiff is going to throw the baby shower; she’s guarding the title of Baby-Show-Thrower very jealously.

I can’t believe we have to wait all the way until December. Buddy (my youngest brother) is Marina’s self-appointed little bodyguard. He thinks he’s going to make her play with him all the time. It’s really cute.

Why does it take nine months? Why couldn’t it be one?

For all the girls who love horses and writing (sorry guys), head this way!

Girls’ Horse Club Fiction Competition

Tags!

Starting Time: 3:56 pm
Name: Gabrielle
Sisters: Natalie, Ne-Ce, Kay, Lizzy, DD, Jazzy
Brothers: Zeke, Wes, Stevie, Darius
What are you wearing? Green shorts, black shirt with MUSTANG on it
Favorite Number: 15
Favorite Drink: Root beer soda
Favorite Month: August
Favorite Breakfast: marshmallow treasures cereal
Love someone so much who made you cry? No
Broken a bone: no
Been in a police car: yes
Been on a boat? no
Came close to dying: yes; almost drowned
Been in a hot tub: Yep
Swam in the ocean: a bunch when I was little
Fallen asleep in school: yes!
Cried when someone died: Yes
Fallen off your chair: All the time!

--------------------------Who------------------------------
Who did you last yell at? My brother
Do you like filling these out? yes
Do you like yourself? God made me just the way I am so yes!

----------------------------Today did you------------------
Talk to someone you like? yes
Get sick? No
Sing? yes
Miss someone? no

--------------------------Last person who------------------
You talked to on the phone with? Mom
Made you cry? Don’t remember
Went to the mall with? Big sisters
Been to Europe? No
Been to Asia? No
Been to Russia? No
Been to the Bahamas? No
Been to Mexico? No
Been to Canada? No
Been to Africa? No.

-------------------Final Questions---------------------------
What are you listening to right now? Keys to the Kingdom by Group 1 Crew
Do you hate someone in your family? No
What car do you wish to have? Jeep Wrangler
Good singer? I like to sing and that’s all I’m saying
Indoors or outdoors? 50-50
Do you have a job? I volunteer at the zoo
Are you lonely right now? Nope
Time Finished: 4:00 pm

I tag: Esther Lowery, Tinydancer, and April


----



Who is your favorite artist? My sister Ne-Ce

Who is your favorite classical composer? Beethoven

Who is your favorite singer? I d’know – maybe Misty from my church.

Do you like to write? Yes

What genre? Horses mostly

What is your favorite picture book? Does Fox In Socks count? It’s sort of a picture book.

Favorite book? Maximum Ride books (there’s no picking just one)

Favorite painting? A picture of wild horses I saw on the internet one time

Do you compose music? No

Do you write songs? Last year I did

Do you like poetry? Most of the time

Do you write poetry? All the time

Favorite poet? All my favorite poems have “-unknown” at the end


I tag: Read A Review, J.R Parker, Earwen

Reading

The library is one of my favorite places ever. Correct me if I’m wrong, but at least down here in TN it seems like every book I pick up is fantasy. I have absolutely nothing against fantasy – Companions Quartet is one of my favorite series – but when you’ve read nothing but fantasy for months and months. Well, let’s just say I’m desperate enough for reality to read nonfiction like I usually read fiction.

I just reread a non-fantasy fiction book from the series Mark of The Lion. Those are really good books. I borrowed it from a friend – which, actually, I should probably ask Mom if we can go up to their house so I can take the book back. I’ve had it for months. I’m pretty sure I got it last year.

Anyway, next I’m going to read Piercing the Darkness and This Present Darkness. They’re by Frank Peretti and really awesome. He wrote them ages ago, I think before I was even born. If you’ve never read them, you really should. They’re about spiritual warfare. This Present Darkness is the first one, so read that one first. Personally I like Piercing the Darkness better.

P.S In all honesty, I could have those books entirely backward but the one about Ashton is the first one.

Background Instructions, Please

May somebody please give me down-to-the-last-detail instructions on how to put a new background on my blog?

The Lion King

Yesterday I watched The Lion King. Of course, I got all teary eyed because I always do. The Lion King will always make me bawl like a baby, honestly. Simba was such a sturdy, spunky little lion before Mufasa died. And he spent years thinking Mufasa’s death was all his fault.

What’s even sadder is that I still like Scar. He has a sort of roguish charm, even if he is conniving and heartless. And his song, ‘Be Prepared’ – I love it. He had a rather harsh end, although I guess he had it coming.

I wonder if Simba felt guilty for dumping his responsibilities when Nala tried to get him to come back. And when he saw his father in his reflection – I can’t help thinking about how we’re supposed to have others see Jesus in us. I wish I could look at my reflection and see Jesus there as easily as Simba could see his father.

I wonder what it’s like when we ‘go home’ to heaven. I wonder if there’re trees and stuff, the kind of trees we’re used to. And I wonder what eternity is like.

But beyond my endless wonderings, I know that no matter how perfect “hakuna matata” looks, “pride rock” is the place to be.

P.S Nevertheless, BE PREPARED is a great song.

Total Randomness

I am soooo bored. I read all my books. I finished the summer reading program. I cleaned my room a thousand times. My computer at the house is so slow I can’t stand using it. I’ve been watching way too many movies lately so I am on a movie fast. I think I’ve listened to every song I own about a bajillion times. So that leaves me with these options.

1) Edit my book
2) Practice piano
3) Read books
4) Write some more
5) Haven’t figured it out yet

Speaking of the summer reading program, I got a jump drive for reading ten hours. Getting stuff for reading is as close to getting something for nothing as you can get. And that reminds me. Mom is wiping her hard drive so I have to take all my stuff off her computer and put it on a disk. I remember she wiped my computer two years ago but I didn’t take all my stuff off in time and there went three years of writing. I was pretty upset at the time but since I couldn’t even remember what she’d wiped, I decided it couldn’t be that important. I doubled what I’d already had in a few months anyway. And it’s probably better this way. Some of the stuff I used to write makes me cringe it was so awful. And talk about grammatical mistakes… Mom is a teacher and it’s a good thing she never read any of that stuff. She’d run out of red pens.

My Query Letter

It starts. The absolutely terrifying experience of querying agents. Everything has to be perfect. No place for second chances here. I am surrounded by books telling you (hopefully) everything you need to know to make a spectacular query letter. Naturally it all boils down to me and my writing talent. That would be the absolutely terrifying part. What if I’m really an awful writer? I don’t think I am. But then again, trying to judge yourself is like trying to bite your own teeth. Not happening.

Right now I’m reading “Your Novel Proposal; From Creation to Contract.” It’s interesting for a nonfiction book. And once I’ve read that and the scores of other books sitting in a pile on my bedroom floor, hopefully I’ll be ready to write my letter.

Honestly, I'm scared stiff at the prospect and am trying to think no further than to finish reading the how-to books. Prayers would be appreciated. When I get nervous I'm useless.

More Sacred Promise

Here is another scene from Sacred Promise. As a heads up, CAD is chronic amnesia disorder. As far as I know the disorder is a figment of my imagination. What it means is that if Angel hits her head, she gets amnesia. She doesn’t even have to hit her head that hard. Also, Shelly is Angel’s Dad’s work partner. Kevin is a boy she’s known since she was a baby. Sasha is her best friend – Majjannan is a song.

*

I put on some socks and a sweater and was reaching for the doorknob when a scream split the air.

A tingle shot up my spine and I stood there, frozen.

Then, it came again.

It was high-pitched and haunting; resonating in my ears long after the original sound had died away.

“Angel?” Dad called.

Still, I didn’t move. I closed my eyes, listening, and the final scream made me shudder. Triste.

I took the stairs down three at a time. Dad and Shelly were standing at the bottom.

“It’s Triste,” I said. Before they could ask how I knew I’d darted past them to the front door. I think Dad might have told me not to open it but by then it was already open. The second I stepped outside I was soaked to the skin. Dad came out behind me and I could hear Shelly shuffling after us.

“How do you know?” Dad said, shouting to be heard over the rain.

I’d heard horses scream before. I’d heard almost every sound horses made. “I’ve heard it before,” I whispered. He must have heard me because he said nothing.

The air was charged with energy. Lightening split the sky in half and suddenly I wasn’t looking at the Noir Cheval. I saw two stallions, Madeira was one, fighting. The other stallion was small and there was blood on his coat. Madeira was fighting him into a corner of the paddock, his hooves pounding furiously against the smaller horse. The horse was screaming, trying to get away.

Triste screamed again and the picture was gone.

“He’s in trouble,” I said numbly.

“What?” Dad and Shelly, together.

“He’s hurt,” I said again.

At that moment I forgot everything. I forgot he’d hurt my mom, I forgot he’d hurt me. I forgot he’d hurt Sasha.

I tore off the porch and ran towards the woods.

“Angel! Get back here!”

Two steps off the porch and all sound was lost to the rain. Dad probably tried to follow me. Being my dad, that’s what he’d do. But it was too dark and too wet, and in seconds I was under the trees, running.

Once, I’d experienced blind terror. I was only a year old but I remembered it very vividly. Mom, Grandma, and Granddad had gone to the stables to help the foaling mares – three in one night.

They thought I was sleeping but only a few minutes after they left I woke up. The house was dark and it was storming. I’d gone down the stairs, crying, and out the front door. And then I was in the storm. I thought I was going to die. I stood there, screaming at the top of my lungs, until Mom came and got me.

That was what it was like now.

Only the terror wasn’t mine, it was Triste’s. I could feel it as easily as I could feel the rain soaking through my clothes. He was experiencing the same terror I’d felt that night.

The rain was so heavy I could barely see through it. In Écouter there were no raindrops, there were rain sheets. If you tipped your head back and opened your mouth you’d probably drown yourself.

I was already so wet it was several minutes before I realized dark, murky water was swirling around my ankles.

Out of nowhere a tree branch seemed to materialize. I was still running and before I could stop myself, my forehead slammed into the branch.

When I opened my eyes I was on my side.

Now I was wet and my forehead was burning like crazy. I eased myself up and my head swam. The rain-distorted setting now looked like mountains.

What was I doing out in a storm? Where was I? I tried to see through the rain. I’d hit my head. It must be my CAD. I couldn’t remember a thing.

Triste screamed.

Triste. I was supposed to be doing something about him. I tried to clear my thoughts but I was so confused.

Now I could hear another sound: shouts.

I struggled to my feet. Where was he? And what was I supposed to do when I found him? If I even could?

The sound had been so close. I could barely think straight.

And then I saw white.

The rain seemed to abate and I saw everything as clearly as if it were one of Dad’s photographs.

Triste was thrashing wildly, his massive hooves flattening the vegetation around him. There were ropes around his neck, three, tangled in the briars. He was pulling against them with everything he had in him but he was drooping with exhaustion. His mane and tail were flattened against him with rain and there was a wild, terrified look in his eyes. They glowed, even in the dark.

I heard the shouts again and this time I recognized the voice. Kevin.

“Triste,” I whispered.

The stallion went still, as if he’d been struck by lightening.

“I’m going to help you.” I approached to his left, making sure he could clearly see me. He flattened his ears and bared his teeth.

“Don’t be scared…”

He went crazy. He flung himself around, nearly going over backwards. He bucked, twisted, reared. And then he went still, shuddering.

“Majjannan,” I said.

Triste’s ears came forward and some of the fear left his eyes.

“Do you remember the flying horse?” I held out my hand. Kevin was getting closer. I could hear him. I didn’t have much time.

“And Mom? Do you remember her? Majjannan?” I was next to him, his bulk blocking the rain.

He was huge. Twenty hands – I did some quick math. That was six feet, eight inches at the shoulder. There was no telling how tall he was altogether. And if he decided to go crazy again when I touched him, he’d probably kill me.

“Majjannan,” I said again. “Do you remember Majjannan?”

I put my hand on one of the ropes, now hanging limply. They were hopelessly entangled in the bushes and there was no way I could get them off his neck. As I slid my hands up the length of it, towards his neck, I had to smile. Kevin was smarter than he looked. There were safety catches on all of them. I snapped open the first one. Triste’s ears went flat but he didn’t move.

The second one snapped open and fell to the ground.

Triste pulled away, pulling the last rope taut. He was soaked, though not so much from rain as sweat.

“Kevin’s been chasing you for a long time, hasn’t he?” I tried to get the last one open but he was pulling the rope too tight.

“There he is!”

I could see a powerful flashlight beam cutting through the dark. “Please, Triste. Hold still.” I pulled on it. My fingers hurt.

“Who is that?”

Spotted.

Triste was tensing for another pull. I shoved all my weight against his shoulder. He shifted to his left and the catch popped open.

“Run, Triste!” I slapped his rump and the stallion took off running.

I did, too.

I heard Kevin yelling but he didn’t say my name, so I guessed he didn’t know it was me. I ran all the faster.

There was another scream.

It was empty of the terror and pain I had heard earlier. Its cadence was almost like music, spiraling skyward, resounding and resounding like waves on a beach. It was the most beautiful sound I’d heard in my life.

I liked to think Triste was saying thank you.

Ask, Seek, Knock

My siblings like to say I’m spoiled. I don’t blame them. Not that I really am. There’re eight of us and only two parents to go around.

So, first off, I love junk food. Sadly, if it’s bad for me I love it. Especially barbecue potato chips. And Dad loves them, too. He wouldn’t share a solitary crumb if you got down on your knees and begged. At least that’s what I used to think.

Everybody knows Matthew 7, right? Ask, seek, knock. Ask and it shall be given you; seek and you shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you. For everyone that asketh receiveth…or what man is there of you whom if his son (or daughter) ask bread (or a chip) will give him a stone?

While I was reading that, I was hungry – yes, I know, I’m verily easily distracted. So as soon as I finished the chapter I went to the kitchen and Dad was sitting in the living room, eating chips. I decided to try out the whole bread and stone thing. So I asked him for some chips. And he actually gave me some.

Now I know that the reason he never offered was so that we – me and my sibs – would learn to ask. No matter what the answer, we have to be comfortable with asking for anything. If we could do it with Dad, we could do it with God (if ye then being evil know how to give gifts unto your children, how much more shall your father which is in heaven give good things unto them that ask; Matt 7:11).

I’ll ask Dad for anything and if it’s something he can hand to me at that moment I generally get it. That’s probably why the sibs say I’m spoiled. They haven’t grasped that lesson yet.

Naturally I get my share of no’s. I always end up asking again though. As my personal favorite bible verse says: to everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven (Ecclesiastes 3:1).

Lord of The Rings?

Wow, I feel really left out. Just kidding. Anyhow (my favorite word, in case you didn’t know) on every blog I visit I see Lord of The Rings. I started reading Fellowship of the Ring but – sorry, LOTR lovers – it was sooo boring. Am I missing something? I’ve always been more of a book girl than a movie girl, although I think I’ll watch the movie. What’s up? Somebody please tell me what I’m missing.

Freedom Wars

Freedom Wars

In a whirlwind of silver magic
She left behind her friends and family
Anaya – she who is completely free
The beginning of freedom she would be

Menaces from dark mountain tops
Threatened the magic called Horse
The Wild Things told her the purpose
They set for her a lonely course.

Pure of heart and free of fear
The color of the December sun
To fight, to push, and persevere
Anaya, the strong, the free one

Consumed by green-eyed jealousy
Bellalyse, strong as an ocean wave
Part of her soul she gave away
The one she loved for to save

She watched the magic within
Anaya, growing stronger each day
She watched her beloved Zenith
From her, steadily pulling away

The hold that she once had on
the souls in her jealous care
Slipping, slowly away from her
She reached for things not there

Only part of her soul remained
Bellalyse was no longer free
Imprisoned by her need for power
And by her own jealousy

Endroit Dans la du Soleil calls
For the pure of heart, the strong
There is no place for the selfish
Who use their powers for wrong

Bellalyse longed for her beloved Zenith
Sacrifices, any, she’d make for him
Anaya’s life meant nothing to her
She’d destroy her on a whim

Anaya didn’t have the strength
To fight Bellalyse’s deathly hold
Before Anaya loomed the end of life
It was empty, dark, and cold

The Horse With The Silver Eyes
Zenith, sworn to protect his herd
Anaya’s cries of pain and fear
Were not to go unheard.

The Horses With The Silver Eyes,
Anaya, Zenith – beginning, end
They fought with the strength of a thousand
They moved with speed of wind

And in the fury of the battle
Was born a special, magic colt
On his face he bore a special mark
A stark-black lightning bolt

To finish the war and bring peace
To Endroit Dans la du Soleil
This magical colt was born
The color of a golden sun ray

Anaya whispered into his ear
His most prized possession, a name
It whispered of happiness, peace
Of green grass, of ruby rain

If you close your eyes tightly
The wind seems to whisper to you
His name, it says, oh so softly
Of his destiny, it holds a clue

Hold your breath and listen
Picture a flash of black and gold
His name – Troika – means ‘freedom wars;
The proud, the true, the bold’


That is the second part of the poem trilogy. I love the name Troika. It makes me think of a warrior. I just found the blog of Rachel Danielle which I am particularly excited about. She’s hoping to get a book contract this summer, same as me, which is cool.

A girl my mom met, her name is Victoria, says self-publishing is the only way to go now. She had her books printed by Morris Publishing. I’m looking into that, too, although I’d rather be picked up by a publisher. I’m trying to come up with ways to get my name out there. Anyhow, we’ll see what happens.

Writing, Editing, Covers, & Brainstorming

In my opinion, the hardest part of writing is when you look back over what you’ve written and it doesn’t add up. Sometimes there’re those totally awesome times when you realize two or three instances link up to strengthen your story. And sometimes, not.

That’s what I love about poems. You don’t have to worry so much about the plot. I wrote three linked poems one time. And then I wrote a short story about the horses in the poem. And I turned the short story into a novella. It was a lot of fun. It was fantasy, and there were flying horses and horses with silver eyes. That would look really weird, now that I think about it.

Anyhow, I really should be brainstorming about the second book in my Sacred Promise Trilogy, “The Promise Child.” It has a telepathic filly named The Desecration in it. She’s Sacred’s daughter; Sacred being the white Friesian stallion in the first book in the trilogy, called Sacred Promise. I love trilogies. I’m reading one right now, as a matter of fact. It has selkies in it.

Anyhow (I like that word) now I’m thinking about a cover for the Sacred books. My sister Liz was supposed to be drawing one for me. The plan is for there to be a white Friesian (Sacred) on a cliff (The Ciel) in a storm. In the foreground will be my character, Angelica. It was weird, I first started the Promise books years ago. And then I read the Horse Angel books, and my Angelica and that Angelica have the same golden hair. My Angel has hazel eyes and I think Angela Dorsey’s Angel has golden.

Here’s the first part of the trilogy of poems I wrote.

Wild Things

There is a place in the sky
Near the middle of the sunrise
Where the spirits of the pure at heart
Live when their body dies.

In colors of gold, red, silver
With wings made of white gold
They are the magical Wild Things
Brave, true, magnificent, bold

The wildest of the Wild Things
Mighty Saber, the Stallion of Flight
He gallops, mane and tail streaming,
Through the sky in dark of night.

His sister rules the red dawn
Bellalyse, the Lovely Red Mare
Her coat, as red as the setting sun
Brings dawn from here to there.

Guardian of All That Sails on Wind,
Jade’s tail is the clouds floating by
The mare’s hooves bring thunder, storms
Her eyes, stars, stud the velvet sky

Troy, the charismatic blue stallion
He lives in the depths of the waves
The exception, rescuing drowning souls
The depths is where he stays

The magical horses, the Wild Things
Live in the place where sun meets earth
Wild Things guard things wild at heart
Each one its weight in gold is worth.

I am off. Here’s a joke my sister just told me. What can you break with one word?

Later-later, Gabrielle

Catching You Up

I am learning the song “Moonlight Sonata” on the piano. The worst thing about it is it makes my hands hurt because I have to stretch across eight keys. Maybe I’m getting the fingering wrong or something but it hurts.

Anyhow, I’m still busy editing Ling Of Fire, although not every day like I should. I have to keep editing more chapters of Firefly Dancer, because I have to send a chapter to AmyKate and KateKale, my two editors. So far I’ve gotten mostly good reports from them, just notations on my grammar. It was never my best subject in school. That was reading. I remember my Mom used to have me read traffic signs when I was little. That seems like forever ago.

Yesterday we had to do yardwork, which was a drag. And today it rained. I really wanted to go swimming. The pool at the Y has a great water slide.

Last Saturday me, my two sisters, and Mom went to a book fair. I got a bunch of horse books and I met this really cool girl. She’s fourteen and a level nine in gymnastics (I’m level six). She’s into photography. I used to be, until all the batteries for my camera died. I really need to find my rechargeable ones.

I have to go edit now. I figured I’d better post something on here. Tomorrow we’re going to the library and maybe I’ll just write something on paper, and then post it tomorrow.

Manuscript Submissions

Okay, so, here I am at my former favorite place in the world, Let It Shine. My new favorite place, for the record, is the library. If I had an addiction, it would be books. I love books. I love book covers. My favorite cover is the one for Black Beauty done by Kingfisher. Dark blue and gold, with the perfect silhouette of a black horse. It’s really pretty. I have something sort of like that in mind for the cover of my book, Sacred Promise.

I’m supposed to be editing SP, but editing is such a draaag. So I’m editing a different one, Line Of Fire. I’m going to submit it to Long Tale Press. It’s a pretty cool site. How it works is – actually, I’ll just give you their explanation.

--
Long Tale Press strives to publish the best fiction possible by letting readers tell us what they like best. We don’t mean simply letting customers tell us things like “please publish more mysteries with ‘accidental investigator’ main characters,” (although you can certainly tell us that over in the forums if you like). We mean letting customers tell us which manuscripts submitted by writers are the ones we should devote our publishing resources to. You know what you like better than we ever will. So tell us, and we’ll publish that. Along the way, we do our best to create a community around every manuscript in our system so that writers can have a direct connection to their readers, find out what’s working well in their writing and where they could improve, and get the kind of unbiased feedback that simply isn’t possible from friends, family members, and co-workers.
--

It seems like a good place to start building a rep – something that certainly couldn’t hurt a fifteen year old girl trying to get published. My Mom and I are still looking at other options, especially Morris Publishing. It’s more of a printer than a publisher, so you pay them the flat fee for printing your books and then you handle everything else on your own. You can’t get hardcover books, though.

I’m hoping to have Line Of Fire posted on Long Tale Press within two or three weeks (it’s on the longish side and I have to go over it with a fine tooth comb). I’m also editing books for some friends (yes, KateKale, that means you and you haven’t sent me a chapter in a loooong time).

Anyhow, my books are calling to me. We’re going to the library tomorrow and I have to finish five books before that so I can fill up my card again. M’off! Later-Later, Gabrielle

Graduations, Cousins, & Good Books

It's almost time for my cousin's graduation. I can hardly believe it. All while we were growing up, BFFs all the way, I kind of forgot she was two years older than me. Mikey, as I call her, and I have known each other forever. We're not actually blood cousins, but our parents have known each other forever, so we just say we are. We were both born in California, we both did gymnastics, play the piano, and have a lot of siblings. We both love to read, too. And speaking of reading and relatives. Friday morning my sibs and I are going to a book fair. I love book fairs. All those books everywhere. I've always gotten some of the best books from fairs. Last time I got a High Hurdles book, which I love. After the fair we're going to Books-A-Million so I can get more Phantom Stallion books. Finally. It's the only place I can get them anymore and B-A-M is really far from my house.

On relatives: After the book fair but before the book store, we're going to see Nana. She hasn't been feeling well lately so she can't get out of the house much. I haven't seen her in forever and I miss her so much. A while back I was writing this family newsletter and my mom sent her a copy. She really enjoyed it so now I don't dare show my face without one. I haven't written one in months so I have to make one up fast. You don't mess with Nana. :-)

Quick Apology

As we have no internet in my house, it’s a little awkward trying to blog on here. Now that I’m over my illness (more on that later; much later) hopefully we’ll come to the library every Thursday like we used to. In the meantime, I’m writing the blogs entries the good old fashioned way and I’ll post them on here whenever I can. Sorry about that. I hope you enjoy my first chapter! Later-later, Gabrielle

Sacred Promise

Here is the first chapter of my book. Enjoy!



Prologue

Under the full moon, the sea raged. Black waves beat against the rocks. As far as the eye could see there were towering waves. To the left of Moonstar Bay was a beach. To the right was The Ciel. The cliff towered above the sea.
And then there was a scream.
It split the night in half, rising above the pounding waves. The air seemed to shudder with the force of it.
On the top of The Ciel there was movement.
A horse, as white as the moon brokenly reflected in the sea, stood on the cliff. Rising in a rear, he seemed suspended in midair. The rain increased. A frothy white mane clung to the horse’s neck and his ice white tail touched the ground.
He screamed again.
Somewhere far away, perhaps even the other side of the world, a young girl screamed.
They didn’t know each other – yet. But their fears were inexplicably woven together. And while the girl’s friends comforted her, the white horse stood there. Alone.


Chapter One or Triste


I was running through the woods, trying to breathe, trying to see. But all I could do was hear; hear something tearing through the brush after me. It was panting hard. Every now and then I heard a deep, animal growl that seemed to reverberate through the darkness.
Should I yell to try to frighten it away? Or hide?
Panic threatened to choke me and I stopped running, wiping at my tears. Where could I go? Nothing seemed familiar.
“Hush little baby, don’t you cry…”
“Mom!” I jerked around at the sound of my mother’s voice. “Mom, please help me!” I tried to run to the sound of her voice but I couldn’t pinpoint the direction it was coming from. “Where are you?”
Her haunted voice kept singing.
She’ll never help you, a little voice whispered. She left you, didn’t she? She never said goodbye. She just left.
“She died! She couldn’t help that!”
I broke into a run again, as the Thing grew closer.
“Dad,” I sobbed. There was no reassuring answer from my father. He wasn’t there. He never had been. I ran faster. Tree branches slapped at my face and exposed roots seemed to leap up to trip me.
A gentle neigh suddenly sounded.
I ran towards the sound. The faster I ran, the louder it became. And then I saw two green eyes appear in the darkness, at the top of a hill, looking down at me. Slowly, the ghostly-white body of a horse began to appear around them. I knew if I could just reach him, I would be okay.
My foot caught on a root and I hit the ground.
And then the Thing caught me. I screamed.


Noir Cheval, Écouter Valley, I thought sleepily, finally. The place I’d been born, where I’d spent the first five years of my life, where my mother died; the place where I would be spending the next three months.
“We’ll bring the stuff in the house tomorrow, Angel,” Dad said. “Let’s just get some sleep.”
He fumbled through his bag to find the key for the front door and we both got out of the Jeep. It had been a long drive from New Lake, Washington Florida, and then from there, a long plane ride to the tiny town of Chevalier in Écouter Valley, a little place situated on the sea; the only noticeable feature about it.
Dad got the front door open and we both went inside.
The caretaker had made up beds for both of us a note pinned on the inside of the door said. Dad’s bedroom was down the hall. Mine was upstairs.
I climbed into the soft sheets without even kicking off my shoes. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
When my eyes opened again, Dad was standing in the doorway. “C’mon Angel, we’ve got a lot of stuff to do today.”
Yawning, I sat up. “Are you going to tell me about your project?”
It seemed like years since Dad had first mentioned we were here on business, and that it had something to do with horses. I’d guessed at that, since the Noir Cheval had once been a Friesian breeding farm, back when my grandparents were alive. But that had been years ago, before I inherited it.
“If you get out of bed right now,” Dad countered. He left, and the door slammed shut behind him.
I looked around the room I’d slept in. I hadn’t really looked at it the night before. It was done in fawn and lavender; my favorite colors. All of the furniture was massive because it was practically a hundred years old. A portrait of a smoky-gray Friesian hung on the wall over the dresser.
“Angel!” Dad yelled.
“I’m coming!”
Sliding out of bed, I ran a hand through my hair. My bones were aching after endless hours on a plane and then another two driving from the capitol to Écouter. They cracked a little as I washed my face and rinsed out my mouth.
Dad had brought in all the bags when I got downstairs and he was rummaging through the fridge.
“Oh, it looks like Gram sent over some breakfast for us.” He produced a box of cereal and some milk. “What a thoughtful old lady. Hurry up and eat, Angel. We’re driving into town in twenty minutes.”
“Tell me about your project!” I yelled at his back, as he went out the front door again. He ignored me.
I gulped down my breakfast so fast it gave me hiccups, than ran out the door after him. I started to, anyway. I stopped on the front step. I felt a breeze in my mouth and had to snap shut my jaw, which had fallen open.
It’d been eleven years since I last saw the Noir Cheval and I’d forgotten how amazing it was. From the front step I could see all the way down to the road in front of the house. The front yard was an acre of the greenest grass I’d ever seen in my life. Separating the road from the yard was a huge black iron-gate set in a stone fence.
“What do you think?” Dad was rummaging through a bag on the hood of the car.
“Charmante,” I said, with my best French accent.
“How’s your French, Angel?”
“My – French?” I gave Dad a confused glance. “I can speak it, write it, and understand it, like I always have.”
Dad, the dramatist as always, held up a picture and said one word. “Triste.”
“Sad,” I returned.
“What do you think?” Dad held the picture out to me, almost reverently, and carefully I took it.
I recognized the horse as a Friesian immediately. There was heavy feathering on his legs. His mane was swept back, a few strands hooked over one ear. He had lower tail carriage than normal but judging from the length of his tail – it touched the ground – I wasn’t surprised.
There was a thick, dirty rope around his shoulders. The horse was rearing, and another loop of rope was visible around his fetlock. There was blood on his neck and his legs.
In the corner of the picture you could see the chestnut colored ear of a horse, as if the picture had been taken from horseback.
Even Dad, who knows pretty much nothing about horses, knew that all Friesians are supposed to be black. This one wasn’t. He was pure white.
“They call him Triste,” Dad said in a deep, mysterious voice, “the French word for sad, because all eye-witnesses swear the horse is crying.”
When Dad got into his story-telling mode, he was gone. I went down the steps and sat on the hood of the car.
“According to legend,” Dad began, “Triste was born on one of the breeding farms further upstate, between the mountains and Écouter Wildlife Park. Supposedly he is a purebred Friesian stallion imported from Holland. A lot of things seem to belie that, however. As a colt barely six months old, he stood at an incredible five feet, three inches at the shoulder. And,” Dad nodded to the photograph, “He was as white as a full moon.”
“How’d he end up in Écouter?” I demanded.
Dad went on as if he hadn’t heard. “As a colt, Triste was always a handful. He’d fight with his own mother and he bullied the other foals. His owner, although nobody knows for sure who he was, considered putting the angry, unhappy horse out of his misery. How they know this since they don’t know the owner, I don’t know.
“One particular day, after Triste had nearly killed his owner’s dog, bit his owner, and injured another foal, his owner decided it was time. He blindfolded Triste and led him to where he’d already dug his grave.”
I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t say anything.
“But when he raised his gun to fire,” Dad’s voice deepened, “Triste bolted. The bullet missed him by inches. The man was furious. Triste had injured other horses and tormented the man beyond what he could bear. The man took his whip –”
I closed my eyes.
“– and began to beat Triste. He beat him until blood stained the white coat red. At first, Triste cried out in pain and tried to get away. Then, he fought back.”
Dad went on to describe the horrible fight that ensued. I kept my eyes closed and imagined the big white colt lashing out with his hooves, neighing in pain and fear. The man lashed out with his whip and as in my mind’s eye the whip licked Triste’s flank, I flinched.
“And when Triste could no longer stand the pain,” Dad was saying, “He ran. He charged the fence and ran as fast as his legs could take him.”
For a long moment Dad was silent, as if turning the story over in his head. We knew we had to take the story with more than a grain of salt. After all, how did anyone know that’s what happened if nobody knew who Triste had belonged to? But still, it made me feel sad.
“The man’s daughter had been the only one who loved Triste. And when the colt showed up near the barn the next morning, she tried to look after him in secret. But it was storming, and Triste had always been afraid of storms. Her father heard them and he came out of the house to finish the job he’d started.
“The girl refused to let him. She mounted Triste and galloped off. Her father followed them. They galloped for miles, the girl’s deranged father trying desperately to catch them, and the girl trying desperately to handle Triste’s fear. And then they came to the Ciel, the biggest cliff on the north side of the bay. The man continued to close in, pushing Triste and the girl closer and closer to the edge.
“Terrified of the one who’d put him in so much pain, Triste reared, and threw the girl over the cliff. And then he ran past the man. And nobody ever saw him again.”
I sighed.
Death was awful in itself. Especially for a young person (I imagined the girl was fifteen, like me). But to be thrown over a cliff and drowned? I shuddered. The Ciel jutted straight out over the sea, with a bit of a sandy beach at its base. I remembered Grandma taking me to the beach below the Ciel, and being awed by its majesty.
“And then….” Dad captured my attention again with the second part of the story. “May 16th of last year, Kevin Lowell came home from military school.”
I glanced at Dad to make sure I’d heard him correctly.
“Kevin Lowell?”
Dad started to roll his eyes. “Come on Angel, let me finish the story.”
“What does he have to do with anything?” I demanded. Kevin Lowell had been – still was, as far as I knew – my mortal enemy. He was older than me by eleven months and a lot bigger. A normal toddler isn’t capable of doing what he did; tying my shoelaces to chairs, putting gum in my hair, yanking my hair until I cried.
“Intrigued by the stories of the mysterious Triste, Kevin probed deeper into the story and began to stalk the now seven and a half year old stallion.”
Typical of Kevin Lowell; he had to have everything. They should change that saying from curiosity killed the cat to curiosity killed the boy.
“After months of planning and watching, he finally roped him from horseback. Triste, now at least twenty hands tall dragged Kevin and his horse Jess for almost three hundred yards. The snubbed rope suffocated Jess and gave Kevin a severe concussion.”
“Serves Kevin right,” I said, now that the story was over.
Dad gave a longsuffering sigh. “Really, Angelica.” Calling me by my full name, instead of the usual Angel, told me he was getting tired of going over this.
“So you’re filming Triste?” I said, by way of conclusion.
“Yes.” Dad gave me a warning look. “And since Kevin Lowell knows more about the stallion than anybody else, he’s going to be my guide.” He went on quickly before I could speak. “Since Triste is on our property it’ll be easy for me to keep an eye on you, Angel, while I’m working.”
I didn’t offer my opinion on Dad’s “keeping an eye” on me. Instead, I closed my eyes and thought about a white Friesian stallion. And I imagined he had green eyes.

Help

Can somebody tell me how to put my playlist from playlist.com on my page? Totally lost here.

More....

This blog is partly for my story, A Sacred Promise. My picture is of a "white mystery friesian" named Nero, who was the exact kind of horse I was picturing when I wrote A Sacred Promise. The story is about said horse, who everyone calls Triste. It's sorta-kinda set in the French West Indies, but I don't know if the climate and the backdrop I gave the story fits in with that. Anyway, I refrain from mentioning the exact location so I can run wild if I want to. My main character is named Angelica Fulleri - Angel, for short. My sister is helping me edit it.

I'm planning on posting at least some of it on here so I can get more than my sis's opinion on it. It has a narrow audience, I think - girls 9-16 who like horses.

But as my picture shows, Sacred is the more beautiful horse in the world. At least, I think so. And his eyes are green. An equestrian anomaly, I know, but then, Sacred isn't your average horse...

For starters, he seems to have lost the gene that stops him from growing, he has a mean streak in him, and he lives - actually, I'm going to stop right there. No point in ruining the story. I've rewritten the story a dozen times. Originally Sacred was going to be black, like your average Friesian, but I thought I'd mix it up a little. As t was, I managed to incorporate the whole white coat thing into the story. It has something to do with a Marquis from way back before the French Revolution and the Reign of Terror. I had to do a little homework for this story, which I hated, but there you go.

This is sort of off subject. Who has watched Matrix II? I love that part where Agent Random says, "You..." and Mr. Smith goes, "Yes. Me...me...me..." My Dad just loses it when that part happens. It's pretty funny. That's what's up with the title of this blog, anyway.

Well, I'm off. I have to finish reading Journey to the Lands Beyond (journeytothelandsbeyond.blogspot.). It's a great story. You should read it.

Later-later.

Number One

This feels totally weird. Huh, I’ll have to get used to this. Nobody ever reads what I write. Partly because I put passwords on everything because I have this fear that somebody will delete everything. It all goes back to when my mom wiped the computer and I lost every story, every poem, every little word that I’d typed for the past five or six years.

Right, so. Gabrielle is my name. This is my blog. It’s pretty much like a blank wall at the moment and as my internet access is severely limited that’s probably not going to change too soon. But anyhow, here goes for this whole blogging thing.