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@princesachronicle22 Lol, yeah.
Jaye’s just like:
*outwardly comforting him*
*inwardly: Are you seriously scared? You’re twenty-one feet tall standing erect, and you can send them all flying with a flick of your wing.*
Where'd I get ya this time? The liver? The kidney? I'm runnin' outta places to put holes in ya.
@whalekeeper @lightoverdarkness6 @elizabeth-hearten @mineralizedwritings
I know it’s a few minutes early, but is everyone ready?
Write what should not be forgotten. — Isabel Allende
Here here!!
"And so I left this world just as I had entered it. Confused."
@esther-c @whalekeeper @lightoverdarkness6 @elizabeth-hearten
Who’s starting?
"And so I left this world just as I had entered it. Confused."
Shiloh
The bedroom, littered with stuffed animals and scraps of doodled-on paper, gleamed in the light from the skylight.
Shiloh hid on a beanbag, under a pile of blankets, a pair of old headphones and a gold crown perched crookedly on her head. The country music kept her warm and fuzzy inside – as if she wasn’t warm and fuzzy enough. Her siblings were already in bed, and the only living things awake other than herself, were the puppy and the chickens outside, just beginning to roost.
Shiloh was reading a book – one she was borrowing from a friend. The cover was bent, and the pages smelled musty, like a basement after a summer storm. But the story was bright enough – farmers hiding dragons, children of kings, and swashbuckling heroes aplenty. No story should not have a swashbuckling hero, with a swishing cape, shining rapier, and dashing smile – obviously.
“The prince swung around, wildly clasping at the golden rope. He clutched the baby princess to his chest, but as the flaming towers began to collapse, everyone came to a sickening, colliding scream – and the blanket slipped through his fingers -”
Gasp.
“Give me a bucket of pepper-flavored ice cream, and call me a toothy cow,” Shiloh mumbled, her voice muffled through the blanket. She stuffed another doughnut into her mouth. “What a cliffhanger.”
The blankets seemed to ruffle in an invisible wind, like millions of crow feathers. Shiloh’s flashlight flickered out.
But another light flickered on. The light of a…Sebastian
“Stop wriggling, Sebastian.”
The boy tugged at his collar, and glared at the fiery-eyed princess across from him. “You’d sing a different tune, if you were wearing this straight-jacket of a suit.”
“Do you plead the right of tablecloth?”
Sebastian used the best tactic he knew – wielding his sharp, sparkling blue eyes. “Guess. These shoes are killing me.”
For a second, the princess was detained by a few dignitaries, laughing about the current affairs of the royal family. Then she pulled a golden strand out of her face, and whispered – “Go.”
Seb slipped under the table. At the same time, the princess took her husband’s arm, and began a solemn speech to the table about the latest ballroom fashions – a subtle distraction, so that the boy’s antics would not be noticed.
Sebastian kicked off his shoes, which were so tight, that his eyes had been watering throughout the entire soup course. Then the jacket came off, along with the heat. It was so relieving, that Seb almost felt like bursting into song – but of course, that would be silly. He would have to thank Sultana later.
He stopped, listening.
Seb was a very instinctive person, although he was not aware of it, and if he was, he would have no humility to contain any bragging rights whatsoever. He knew that something was different in the air. In his head, he had been playing a certain rhythm – and now, that rhythm had changed. He was no longer in the palace ballroom.
He knew that Sultana was not there anymore, and he felt panic rise in his lungs almost immediately – so he did the only sane thing he could think of. He talked to himself. “Isn’t this great, Krataristo? She loses sight of you for one second, and you get lost. Typical, just typical. Ow!”
Something bumped the side of his head, knocking his hat onto the marble floor. He crawled after it, and consequently, out from under the table – and into an enormous, pale room.
Tall, marble pillars reached to the paint-laced ceiling, and books – tomes dusted with gold, and leather-bound volumes, of many different colors – neatly lined themselves along the walls. The hall continued forward, but a passageway led to the right, towards equally stuffed bookshelves. On one side, gray curtains floated over gray-glowing windows – which, strangely enough, could not be seen through. Everything was entirely silent.
Seb wrinkled his nose. “What was in that flaming pudding?”“Everything is a mountain”
There, I broke the ice for you
“Everything is a mountain”
@whalekeeper @mineralizedwritings @lightoverdarkness6 @elizabeth-hearten ( @landric are you RPing with us? I can’t remember 😅)
I guess I’ll start. It may just be us three today.
Description: long brown hair, brown eyes, average height. Wearing high-top Converse, jeans, and bright t-shirt underneath an 80s looking jacket (the kind of jacket that is a jean jacket except for the sleeves and hood which are hoodie material. I’m being specific cuz I love the 80s style. 😜)
Imma write from first person cuz third person may be weird.
As I write in my little corner of the world, the room suddenly starts to spin. It is almost as if it is sucking me away from my world.
With a gasp, I open my eyes to see rows upon rows of bookshelves. I am seated in a luscious velvet chair with a lamp on a wooden table beside me. The smell of musty books fills my nose.
A library?
I stand up and smile. At least I still have my caramel frappe! I think. As I walk, I spot someone walking around, looking as clueless as I feel.
“Uh… hi,” I say softly, catching their attention. “I’m Esther. What’s your name?”
Write what should not be forgotten. — Isabel Allende
LOL THAT WAS HILARIOUS!! XDXD
ill go next one sec
"And so I left this world just as I had entered it. Confused."
I can’t believe I wrote in first person and present tense. Both of those are two of my writing weaknesses. XD
Write what should not be forgotten. — Isabel Allende
Lol XD That’s why I wrote in third person – first person feels so out of place for me
“Everything is a mountain”
Awesome! You can go ahead and RP if you’d like. 🙂
Write what should not be forgotten. — Isabel Allende
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