tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69456627040392771792024-03-05T18:36:33.128-05:00Take My Hand......And follow me.Kris n' Kelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15273239971556065096noreply@blogger.comBlogger24125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945662704039277179.post-41964780050368935582011-12-04T21:36:00.000-05:002011-12-04T21:36:40.632-05:00Wild Hunt<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSxJOpRozzOeWlHfxQ3U57YEf2-ChKw5zdESTW3yKTKBZgXDON5R3mTKeu3wRBjrioXkP9c791iSxI7rUBTlU16AcKtv-EBFH4PbHOCSEqVpo0MPqpZICcz1xjZJhL6DP77kkbOz2oeBY/s1600/hunt+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSxJOpRozzOeWlHfxQ3U57YEf2-ChKw5zdESTW3yKTKBZgXDON5R3mTKeu3wRBjrioXkP9c791iSxI7rUBTlU16AcKtv-EBFH4PbHOCSEqVpo0MPqpZICcz1xjZJhL6DP77kkbOz2oeBY/s320/hunt+2.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;">The music pounded, sounding more like a nightclub than a field of faeries. I smoothed down my skirt, the short layered lace a complete parody of what I expected faeries to wear. But for all of their old fashioned tendencies, they still loved modern trends. Kale had mentioned something about human inspiration and its importance, but had lost me when his language shifted, like it tended to whenever he was excited. I smiled at the memory. I’d have to learn their language to keep up with him.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"> I pushed the tent flap aside and was immediately bombarded with applause. The fey cheered my arrival with wild abandon and surged around me. My body caught the current and moved with them, a kind of undulating dance that reminded me of Ellie. My heart panged for a moment, then the glamour began to build in earnest. I tried not to get too swept up in it. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"> A blue nymph pressed something into my hand. It looked at first like a lotus, but as I blinked in the whirling lights I realized it was a short crystalline cup shaped like the flower. The liquid inside smelled like peaches. I took a sip, and then gulped the whole thing down. It tasted like pure sunshine. I licked my lips. The nymph took my drained glass and skipped off, pleased with herself. I danced. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"> Hands brushed my arms to feel my skin, the red corset top I’d worn left them bare. My skirt swirled out like a cloud. Faeries danced with me, pulling me close and spinning me away. I followed them without effort. The summer punch was pushed into my hands by different fey, and I gulped them down without question. It felt like life injecting directly into my bloodstream. Whenever the cup was empty, I always wanted more.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"> The lights swayed around me and the silvery elf that had ridden beside Gage caught my eye. He had given me at least three cups of punch that I could remember. His gaze was predatory, and there was something in it I didn’t like. I turned my back to him, but never stopped dancing. Lexi hauled a cup of punch three times bigger than herself over to me, taking a dew-drop sized amount for her troubles. I grinned as she flitted away, tossing glitter down onto the crowd like missiles. I drained the cup and felt a welcome presence at my back. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"> Kale’s voice manifested at my ear. “It’s faerie wine. I hope you haven’t had too much.” He took the cup from me and handed it to a passing elf. I stifled a giggle as I tried to count how many glasses I’d had. “Don’t let it control you. Hold on to yourself.” His warm breath on my skin sent shivers down my spine. I spun into him; giddy with glamour and apparently, wine. His arms opened in surprise. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"> “I’d rather hold on to <i>you,</i>” I murmured, surprising myself. His eyes widened in comical alarm. I wrapped my arms around his neck and danced against him, though he stayed rigidly still. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: 200%;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnl5gylZujkO3_9dZPHZ4PQef30XyqWfOFp4m4i2W2SsWsJdn3CXx5D_gN1rhNHWuUzIncsziXssM99zwlXqhAKl6RsgP0Wmh7udpiCRInoPIOx20yl_fTtOCje5m1HeIC2wHyAaTIBrY/s1600/hunt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnl5gylZujkO3_9dZPHZ4PQef30XyqWfOFp4m4i2W2SsWsJdn3CXx5D_gN1rhNHWuUzIncsziXssM99zwlXqhAKl6RsgP0Wmh7udpiCRInoPIOx20yl_fTtOCje5m1HeIC2wHyAaTIBrY/s320/hunt.jpg" width="213" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"> At first. </span></span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"> When he started to slowly sway with me, I pulled his hands to my hips. His hesitation made me smile. I remembered quiet Kale, with his quick smiles and easy friendship, the way he held back around everyone. </span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"> <i>Except, </i>I realized, <i>me.</i></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="line-height: 200%;"> </span></i><span style="line-height: 200%;">The struggle in his leaf-green eyes was plain. And for the first time, I could read it clearly. <i>She doesn’t belong to you</i> warred against <i>She belongs to no one.</i> My blood ached for him. </span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"> I felt the kiss a split-second before it happened. He leaned in to say something and I caught myself up on my toes, bridging the short distance between us and catching his lips with mine. I realized that maybe I was a little drunk, and maybe this wasn’t a good idea, but some warm spot inside of me whispered<i> finally.</i> He braced me up and kissed me back.</span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"> His hand cupped the back of my neck, all that was rooting me to the ground. I felt something inside me give in to him, like doors being thrown open. I thought about our almost-kiss in the field, and how I hadn’t been ready, not then. As it was now I wasn’t sure how much of him I could handle. I would be ruined when he let me go.</span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"> A piskie whistled near our ears and I used the moment to break for air. Kale’s lips didn’t leave me but instead traced a careful line down my throat. Where he touched me, I burned. </span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"> I glanced around. Fey were coming and going from the dance floor in groups ranging in size from two to ten, and I wondered where they were going. As I saw the silver elf disappear with a familiar looking nymph behind a tree, I got it. They were <i>hunting</i> each other. Each conquest added more magic to the field. I looked back at Kale, wondering if he and I were a part of it. I giggled. He grinned down at me.</span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"> I drug his lips back to mine with so much force I tasted blood. Mine, I thought. Magnolia trees lined the field, their branches coming down like curtains. It was farther than anyone else went, but I wasn’t that brash. I pulled Kale towards the shadowy trees, stumbling like I was intoxicated. Maybe I was. I sank to the ground, pulling him with me. </span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"> My senses filled with Kale, the unique scent of living forest and falling rain. His hands brushed carefully along my face even as mine twisted desperately into his hair. I felt the beat of music and magic within me, urging me. I pulled his body down closer to mine. </span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"> “Faye?” Kale halted his kisses as my hands sought the end of his tunic. I yanked, but it was stuck fast. <i>Stupid belt.</i> “Faye.” His voice was firm and I could sense that his eyes sought mine, but I was too engrossed in my task. I kept tugging, silently planning the destruction of all belts from his wardrobe. “Bright Eyes!” He clasped my fumbling hands and brought them up to frame his face, and I finally focused. I felt his magic washing the drug of glamour and summer wine from my mind. I blanched.</span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"> “Oh God, Kale I’m so sorry.” My confidence evaporated into mush. I yanked my skirt down and covered my face with my hands. And then, I remembered Gage.</span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"> He laughed. “Don’t be sorry.” His hands removed mine easily and he kissed me swiftly. “I got caught up in it too.”</span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"> I smiled, but my thoughts rankled, tossing Kale and Gage together. Guilt lumped in my throat. Was it cheating? Were Gage and I anything more than a flimsy excuse for a relationship? He showed me favors and kissed me when it suited him. He didn’t confide in me, or share himself with me. He was fun and exciting but was that as far as it went for us? With a measure of regret I knew that no matter how I felt, he considered me his. </span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"> And Kale, I realized, knew that. He watched me, open but cautious. He knew me, probably better than I’d like to admit. And as I met his gaze, I realized he understood that I didn’t know how to choose between them. </span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"> I opened my mouth to explain, but he stopped me with a hand on my knee and a quick, sad smile. “Let’s just go dance, Bright Eyes.” I nodded, and he helped me stand. I felt wobbly and exhausted.</span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"> The music still beat erratically, but Kale and I just swayed against each other slowly. My mind swam in miserable circles and I clung to Kale, like a lifeline. At one point I tilted my head up towards him, ready to say something, anything. The look on his face, a quiet regal grace his brother never managed, stopped me. He brushed the curls back from my face and pressed a kiss to my forehead. I feel asleep, dancing against him. </span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"></span></span></div>Kris n' Kelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15273239971556065096noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945662704039277179.post-8676061886222475282011-08-17T20:00:00.000-04:002011-08-17T20:00:41.505-04:00Road Trip Wednesday - Real Life Places<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggQq6_SrfuABTMNu6OqU-tQPMN70iJs4YYBg3Wr-BDOnMj0IkMqOZkpFXc4xp0uZJxPinUI_v63eCcpTh5E0q72TPKjnuzcDmQGlgNeaCpA-wuKS5xSj5RWzkJgWrWCC5rBLvZrmqPDVU/s1600/DSCN1411.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggQq6_SrfuABTMNu6OqU-tQPMN70iJs4YYBg3Wr-BDOnMj0IkMqOZkpFXc4xp0uZJxPinUI_v63eCcpTh5E0q72TPKjnuzcDmQGlgNeaCpA-wuKS5xSj5RWzkJgWrWCC5rBLvZrmqPDVU/s320/DSCN1411.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>I don't think I've ever seen that place that made me catch my breath and think, "Places like this actually exist?" Having said that, I grew up in what I believe to be the most beautiful scenery imaginable, so I may be a tad used to it.<br />
My favorite place so far has got to be what my friends and I refer to as 'Driftwood Beach.' It's more like, 'Uprooted Oaks Scattered Haphazardly Around the Sand and in the First Few Feet of Water Beach,' but I digress. Like I said, there are scattered, partially uprooted trees laying in the sand and water, twisted branches at beautiful angles. It's a photographer's dream. I went there at night once. I love how beautiful the world is under a blanket of stars and a perfect Harvest Moon.<br />
So that's my writer's haven, the setting for a scene still unformed but close to my heart. Enjoy!<br />
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<3 Kelsey LeighKris n' Kelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15273239971556065096noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945662704039277179.post-12040519557837132302011-08-14T00:58:00.000-04:002011-08-14T00:58:06.509-04:00I Beg Your Pardon? I Never Promised You A Rose Garden.I've got a lot of thoughts tonight. Lots of broken promises and regrets and new hopes and excitement. It's an interesting jumbled pot. My heart got broken early this summer. Broken isn't really the word for it, but I don't really want to elaborate. Picking up my pen hurt more than anything else, because facing the truth of the matter was too difficult. How cruel that my therapy was stripped from me when I needed it most?<br />
It doesn't matter now. There's always that moment, isn't there? Where you feel your heart sigh simultaneously for what was and begin longing for what now lies ahead? It feels so good to smile again. I mean really smile, not that "I'm fine so stop asking" crap. And you know what?<br />
*picks up pen*<br />
It's time.<br />
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<3 Kelsey Leigh<br />
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Kris n' Kelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15273239971556065096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945662704039277179.post-15939414828556341572011-05-03T02:42:00.001-04:002011-05-03T02:44:03.802-04:00Follow Me Back Tuesday<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">A new reason to like Tuesdays :)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.littleyayas.com/"><img alt="BWS tips button" height="125" src="http://i1180.photobucket.com/albums/x419/bbandablog/fmbt200-1.png" width="125" /></a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Just follow the link and explore all the fun sites! And to my visitors, I hope you like what you see! If you're a book/pony fan, I have a giveaway going on in the previous post. Have fun all!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><3 Kelsey Leigh</span>Kris n' Kelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15273239971556065096noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945662704039277179.post-29014842371536748012011-04-23T16:30:00.004-04:002011-05-02T02:30:16.139-04:00Giveaway - New Beckoned<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So, I need input. I'm prepared to beg for it. It's only the prologue and chapter one. If I get at least twenty creative comments, I will randomly choose one of you and buy you the paperback of your choice (or if it's a non-expensive hardback novel, that works too. Just remember I'm a college student and I don't have that much money). Also, five random commenters will get a pony. Yes, a pony. Yeah, you know that stuff on twitter about giving away a pony? I started that with Tiffany Trent. I'm really proud of myself. Anyway. Get me at least twenty comments and one of you gets a book of your choice and five of you get ponies. Leave a comment and fill out the form below. If you retweet and/or post to your blog be sure to note that on the form as well. Deadline is May 7th. Make it happen. I love you all :)<a name='more'></a></span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Prologue</span></span></b></div><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
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<b>Emma</b><br />
I scrunched up on the floor in an unused corridor, hoping that no one would think to look for me there. I craved quiet. Tiny creatures had been pawing at me all day - braiding flowers into my hair and trussing me up in elaborate gowns - trying to force some joy into my face. They meant well, but could not understand. Human emotions were sometimes too complex for them. The paper in my hands crinkled up at the edges, fading from so much recent use. I stared at the muted colors again, tracing their images with fingers that seemed thinner than before. Tears made their way down my face, discoloring the page as they dripped down. “Tomorrow,” I told the photograph, “I marry a king.”<br />
Sobs ripped at me until I finally drifted off; hauntingly beautiful images chasing me through dreams. Calling, snatching, <i>mine mine mine</i>. The sound of footfalls jarred me awake much later, clacking slowly and getting closer. Him. I shivered and pushed further up against the wall, tucking my lacy skirt in around me. I all but stopped breathing, willing myself to become invisible. The footsteps stopped suddenly, hesitating, then picked up again, quicker and much louder. He rounded the corner, a dark shadow against the dusky light. Those perfect sapphire eyes found me immediately, and a small sob escaped from my throat. <br />
He sighed, as if he could read my mind, or at least the fear on my face. I ached to find some trace of the love I had once imagined in his eyes, but a still place inside said to give up the hope. “Emma,” he whispered, lowering himself to meet my gaze. “I am afraid that we need to talk. It seems that I was wrong about you.” I whimpered. That horrible, beautiful monster. <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Chapter One</b></span></span></div><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
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<b>Faye</b><br />
The packed dirt path felt cool beneath my feet, and the night air still held all the sweet scents of summer. A warm breeze swirled my curls. There was a moment of desperate confusion as I tried to remember something, anything. Was there anything even worth remembering? Details crowded my head slowly. All present, no past. The woods around me swayed in the moonlight. There was nothing particularly wrong with that, except that it was probably late. The moon was already up, and stars shone like little beacons around it. Emma would notice I was gone, and she would worry like crazy. I groaned. I should have been home, if not asleep already. But instead, I was traipsing through the woods in the middle of the night like some sort of flower-child - what the hell? I looked down at the delicate lace covering my legs and bare feet. Wonderful. Lace? And even on my least sensible days, I knew better than to go tromping through the brush and brambles without flip-flops, at least. I suppressed a stream of curse words - Emma would be proud. <br />
Was I sleepwalking? I looked around, really looking this time. The moon was brighter than I had ever seen it before, low and glowing silver in the sky. The path continued through a grove of oak trees on a hill ahead; wooden boards were set into the dirt like steps leading up. Sarcasm seeped away, and I became wary. I’d never been here before, and something inside told me I was too far from home.<br />
<i> You know where to go. Just keep on following the path, mon cher</i>. It felt like someone poured ice water down my back. Lovely, just lovely. Voices in my head, in particular voices that do not belong to me, could not be a good sign. “Okay, breathe girl. Focus. We will figure this out.” My voice echoed in the silence. I tried to grab hold of something, some emotion or scrap of memory, but it was all fleeting and slipped away too easily. I was drifting apart, boundaries fading… I thought vaguely about being scared but never quite made it there. I was floating out of me. There was one feeling left more substantial than the others, a pull that I couldn’t quite understand. I clung to it, to find its source and maybe the rest of me, and it grew. It pulled toward the path, and I obliged easily. Was I up there, waiting for myself? My worries bit at the back of my neck, but I didn’t even know their foundations anymore. I climbed up the wooden steps, looking down almost absently at the sting of a splinter lodging itself in my right foot. It didn’t matter - there was something wonderful at the top of that hill. I wasn’t sure how I knew, but the knowledge was there. No reason to fight it. <br />
There was a glowing up ahead, like concentrated sunlight; I couldn’t look directly at it. I did catch the outline of things: an oddly shaped tree; the faint hint of gates; and a man staring directly at me, his face hidden. It was his voice I had heard whispering across my mind, his voice I heard now. <i>Take my hand. </i>The stranger extended his arm, palm up, towards me. It was everything I wanted to do. Nothing could make me happier than to please him. <i>Take my hand and follow me, mon cher. Come back with me</i>. I almost did, almost reached out to clasp those mysterious fingers… when I remembered.<br />
What about Emma? My steps faltered - I couldn’t leave her behind. The thought was barely formed when the pull was shattered, and the surreal sense of peace and acceptance crumbled. I felt all of me come rushing back so fast my stomach churned. I was already turning away, leaving that mysterious stranger reaching for me, that welcoming glowing light pulsing at my back. I had to get home. I had to get away from him. What the hell was this? How close had I just come to being kidnapped? Or worse? The sudden fear gave me an edge, made me run faster. Which was good, because I wasn’t much of a runner. I still felt him calling, but it was a frustrated sound without words. The shock of it radiated through my core, and I stumbled on the stairs, tilting dangerously down the hill. I closed my eyes, bracing as my stomach flew up into my throat and…<br />
…I woke up flinging my tangled limbs in a fit, pillows far across the room and comforter nowhere to be seen. I panned my room frantically, looking for the silhouetted man. His frustrated cry reverberated in my mind. But he wasn’t there, and slowly the panic faded - it was only a dream. I clung to the explanation, despite the creepy feeling nudging at the back of my mind. As the adrenaline wore off, exhaustion crept back in, till my eyes closed and body relaxed. I faded off, thinking of that warm golden light and that irritated stranger, and was torn between fear and fascination. But when sleep came, no dreams followed.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></div><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
Things had never been particularly <i>bad</i> at home. Lonely? Unfortunately, yes. Odd? Without a doubt. But I had always felt loved, almost too much. My mother, Emma, was overprotective - but it was an obsession borne of love for me and fear of things bigger than herself. But where Emma was skittish, jumping at the slightest noise, I was her opposite - bold and bright, contained only by her superstitions. <br />
My childhood was plagued by her so-called “good luck charms.” Lines of salt on the windowsills, a daisy chain around my wrist, an iron nail in my pocket, a horse-shoe above every door; I had always endured all of her eccentricities with suppressed amusement. When I was little, I reveled in the chaos that ensued from hiding them. The older I got though, the more keeping Emma calm became my major focus. I grew up enough to control my impulsive side, wild at heart underneath the suppressed façade I showed Emma.<br />
We live on the outskirts of an insignificant town, one that most of the world forgets unless they just happen to drive through it. Our tiny cottage was shoved in a corner of the ancient woods, a thin layer of harmless looking saplings separating us from the dark undergrowth and green canopy. Emma had always tried to tame that little bit of wilderness growing around us into a garden, without luck. It was too stubborn. Climbing ivy reached out and embraced the yellow walls, curling along the doorframes and twisting up the chimney in defiance. I loved it.<br />
In south Georgia, the summer was a turbulent time, where the calmest, stillest days could turn to violent storms without warning. When I glanced out the window, I assumed it would be one of those days. But the wind was still calm, and the purple clouds were hanging back enough to show an expanse of periwinkle sky. <br />
I pulled on an old pair of cut-off shorts and a faded tank-top, and smoothed my dark curls into a ponytail to help fight off the early afternoon heat. I splashed a little water on my face, then glanced up to meet my grey eyes in the mirror. Something was not right. It was a normal day, and I wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary, but still... I tried to shake it off, knowing it was just the lingering sensation from that stupid dream. I’d had the same one for nearly a week now, and that not-right-not-quite-wrong feeling had haunted me every day. It didn’t make sense, but I still heard him calling. I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders, determined to let it go. I grabbed my camera and music player and bounced out the door, situating the ear buds into place and blasting music while I walked. <br />
I took turns at random, picking my way through the undergrowth. The tall fronds of grass tickled my bare legs and thorns grabbed my clothes, but it was mostly easy going. This place was home, despite its’ strangeness, and I could find my way no matter where I went. The trees grew denser, and the atmosphere more and more untamed. It didn’t take long before I felt like I was in another world - one where it was just me. I treasured that sense of freedom.<br />
The green canopy overhead was scattered with the occasional blast of blue sky. Black-eyed Susans dotted the ground in cheery little bursts, randomly interspersed with other pretty wildflowers I’d never learned the name of. I hummed along with the music, blissfully content in my own wild little garden. I had been walking half an hour before I finally stopped and took in my new surroundings. I didn’t recognize anything. My lips pulled up in a silent smile.<br />
Right before graduation, I had decided to take pictures of the woods around home. I wanted to be able to take this place with me in some small way when I left, to wherever that might be. I didn’t tell Emma. If there was one thing she was more uncomfortable with than me wandering around in the woods, it was the idea of me going away for school. She wanted to keep me close, and safe. But all I ever felt was smothered.<br />
I circled the clearing, trying to decide where to start. There were boulders scattered around, covered with moss in patches. An oak tree had fallen over in one of the recent storms, and it was propped over on a boulder like a giant see-saw. I considered climbing up to see if it would rock back and forth. Instead, I took out my camera, aimed, and shot. I fell into a rhythm with my music and had photographed the giant rock garden within the length of a few songs. <br />
The music pounded in my ears. I hummed along, smiling as I crawled and climbed to get better shots. Clambering up one of the rocks, I noticed a thrumming noise underneath my music. Bee swarm? Maybe. I stopped and sat silently, perched on the boulder, alert. The noise got louder and that same uneasy feeling from this morning perked up. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck prickled, and the droning got louder still, drowning out the music. And all of a sudden, it wasn’t just uneasiness, I felt…watched. Someone was out there. I could feel him behind me, silently staring. The stranger from the dream? I could barely hear my heart thudding in my own ears. I sucked in a breath and prepared to confront him, and turned, snatching the buds out of my ears. The noise died mid-spin, leaving behind only the harmless quiet of the trees around me. I was giddy with relief and feeling more than a little foolish. Of course I was alone. I laughed shakily, and chided myself for being nearly as jumpy as Emma.<br />
I jumped down from my rock and - wait, had something moved? There it was again, that flutter in my chest I couldn’t control that told me to run <i>fast</i> but had me too scared to move. I scanned the trees for movement. I strained my ears, listening for a twig snapping, the soft crunch of pine straw, heavy breathing. All I heard was my own. The uneasy feeling ebbed again when I didn’t see or hear anything, and another chuckle bubbled up from some hysterical place inside me. “I swear, I’m becoming more and more like my mother everyday.” The trees swayed in response, remaining neutral. <br />
I put my camera back in it’s case and shoved the music player in my pocket. It might have been nothing, but I just wasn’t in a music mood anymore. The woods out here were a rare unclaimed property, which was why I could roam freely. But that also meant everyone else could too. I trudged on, trying to pretend I was still as carefree as ever, but every tiny noise had me looking over my shoulder the whole way home.<br />
Finding the way back was simple. There was a small tug in my stomach that led home. It was constant but not uncomfortable, a talent I developed over years of wandering, then having to rush back before my mother worried. The one time I had ever mentioned it to Emma she had practically sprayed me down with holy water. I had learned better than to confide in her with things like that. <br />
I stopped on the other side of the tree line from the house, picking blackberries from the brambles. The thorns were a pain, but they were my favorite. When my fingers were purple and I had blackberries spilling from my arms I followed the path to where the trees cleared a bit - to where home sat, patiently waiting. Wisteria hung from trellises that Emma had attached at random to different walls - to combat the ivy she hated so much. The hanging purple flowers released a soft, sweet smell, and a little of the tension in my shoulders eased when I breathed the heady scent in.<br />
I was almost inside when the trees rustled, murmuring. I tried to block it out, but I shuddered against my will, thinking of the silhouetted man whispering to me. <i>Mon cher</i>… The hairs at the back of my neck lifted, and I bounded inside, completely foolish but unable to stop myself. <br />
I headed into the kitchen and dumped the blackberries carelessly in an old chipped mixing bowl, running a little water over them before popping a few in my mouth. I stalked through the house, desperate for something to do. Distractions, I desperately needed distractions. Going to the beach crossed my mind, but Emma would be home soon, and didn’t like to be left behind. I finally settled onto the faded blue fish-patterned sofa, clicking on the television. <br />
There wasn’t much on really, but a special on exotic vacation sites convinced me to stop. I wanted to see these places, to make a wish at the Trevi Fountain, eat something disgusting in Scotland, spend too much money in Paris, explore the Hill of Tara… but the impossibility of it all wore me out. I closed my eyes and let myself wonder about all the <i>what-if’s</i> I could muster. Post-card perfect pictures blended together with fairy-tale images as I drifted off to sleep, exhausted from too many nights filled with that same bizarre dream. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><iframe frameborder="0" height="545" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" src="https://spreadsheets.google.com/embeddedform?formkey=dDlWRlZvUDNuQ3NSLWdjcmc3V19teEE6MQ" width="760">&lt;p&gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;Loading...&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&lt;/p&gt;</iframe></span>Kris n' Kelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15273239971556065096noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945662704039277179.post-67589888898972857392011-04-20T20:03:00.000-04:002011-04-20T20:03:23.937-04:00Road Trip Wednesday - First Kiss<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdsQGfCAnV_uu_KwrKxbHparWmKu-0DKYuq5G9Iyi4lPX3JBz_PRywpjZpUUeWC3dkTBmt7xcdknREhMnDbN87UvJxMXlELsarVmqAy2VvWoAMkHJqvloxI1vu5sVDwStopGyCN5WXPy8/s1600/kiss.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdsQGfCAnV_uu_KwrKxbHparWmKu-0DKYuq5G9Iyi4lPX3JBz_PRywpjZpUUeWC3dkTBmt7xcdknREhMnDbN87UvJxMXlELsarVmqAy2VvWoAMkHJqvloxI1vu5sVDwStopGyCN5WXPy8/s320/kiss.jpg" width="248" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Well I'm new to this, but here goes. This is YA Highway's Road Trip Wednesday, a Blog Carnival for reading and writing related questions. And you know me, if there's a carnival involved, I'm there with bells on. <i>Ding Ding Ding.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">This week's question asks us to compare our firsts kiss with those of our favorite characters. Oh, <i>gawd.</i> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">All right, let's get this over with. My very first kiss didn't happen until I was *gulp* seventeen. My boyfriend was in the military and had been gone for about eight months or so. So we had A LOT of build up. Plus there was the added tension of how much we had missed each other. It was 1 a.m., summertime, crickets chirping. I ran down my driveway to meet him sooner. *sentimental sigh* I think the only bad thing that happened was that my foot caught in a blackberry bramble. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">He was a really good guy, especially for my first love. I was definitely lucky in that sense. I think I'm one of a few lucky people who can look back on my first kiss without resentment or regret, and I'm grateful for that. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Now, I read A LOT. I mean, I could go in debt if people didn't loan me books. But THE ONLY kiss that stood out in my head when I first saw the question was from Twilight (NOT the movie). I don't know why. Bella and Edward aren't my favorite characters, but *shrug* something about them just stuck with me. And then, when I tried to think of others, I realized why.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I love it when characters resist each other. Because it just makes that moment when they finally give in so much more....(insert unnameable emotion here). I guess that's the motivation behind my WIP too (SPOILERZ). So how was your first kiss, and how does it compare to your favorite book?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><3 Kelsey Leigh</span>Kris n' Kelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15273239971556065096noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945662704039277179.post-82302958399360085622011-04-16T03:35:00.001-04:002011-05-02T22:12:23.929-04:00Please Don't Attack Me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtuUWaWvSlnDeNsWHodd6_eu_-td4LEjiG4UIBktp3DPnvgCxNb78TY8WEuWOf6e2CL2WtNqjrlP1yP-Kut9497Kf7MRNSCaIZ11kc19nVqgqsEn-zqwbcIpmRrGsCDCEfrwnZeOtIrkM/s1600/0415112325.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtuUWaWvSlnDeNsWHodd6_eu_-td4LEjiG4UIBktp3DPnvgCxNb78TY8WEuWOf6e2CL2WtNqjrlP1yP-Kut9497Kf7MRNSCaIZ11kc19nVqgqsEn-zqwbcIpmRrGsCDCEfrwnZeOtIrkM/s320/0415112325.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">PUT DOWN THE TORCHES AND PITCHFORKS. I can justify this. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Wanna know how?</div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Books. BOOKS. </span><b style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">BOOKS!</b><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Let me recap a bit. E-Readers. To love or not to love? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I've gotten varying responses to this question. The people who are adamantly against them, I like to call Traditionalists. They love the feel of a book in their hands, that new book smell, and just the overall poetic idea of a book. I'm here to say that there is nothing wrong with that mind-set. I understand the commitment. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">But... come on hun.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">There are some people though, who are WAY into these little gadgets. Technoids. Nothing wrong with that. They're awesome little devices that bring books instantly and somewhat cheaply (after the daunting price of buying the damn thing). </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I'm somewhere in the middle. <a name='more'></a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I identify with the Traditionalists, perhaps a little more than with Technoids, because I'm very into having a spiritual connection with my book, and because technology has declared war against my life. But that didn't stop me from buying my little NookColor (http://www.barnesandnoble.com/nookcolor/index.asp). And I'm pretty head-over-heels for the thing. And I'll tell you why.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">1. Something I've already kinda referred to. Cheap, instant books. I'm a book whore. And there are extensive FREE and CHEAP books on these things that are amazing. Oh and on top of that, there are also collections of classics that are completely free - from Austen to Stoker to Carroll. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">2. Usually, I'm a 3+ books in my purse kinda girl. But now I can carry 50+ books without all the weight or bulk. And the beautiful covers are still there.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">3. It keeps track of what page I'm on for me. I know. That doesn't seem like a huge deal. But wait till you're reading three books at a time and it keeps track of what page you're on on all of them. Trust me, it's a big deal.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">4. It's opened me up to more books than I would have read before. Especially because of the free samples. Oh yeah, did I not mention that? FREE SAMPLES.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">There are tons of reasons to fall in love with these things. Especially with the new advancements where unpublished authors can publish their own books. SQUEE! Hope for us all!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">So what do you think? Traditionalist, Technoid, or somewhere between the two?</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfUFylLCDVCq4YnzUPvKsLya68gS4VR7P-3L9sW8ra6wTTbv9eEdCast83h0IKNwCB2TgrHsSGTed_AovrIC0g70SxsLJLmb6OydR1j2Yf9TI_h_yBWP1SD7YTwEpFA1jLIKNa_i2teVQ/s1600/haha.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfUFylLCDVCq4YnzUPvKsLya68gS4VR7P-3L9sW8ra6wTTbv9eEdCast83h0IKNwCB2TgrHsSGTed_AovrIC0g70SxsLJLmb6OydR1j2Yf9TI_h_yBWP1SD7YTwEpFA1jLIKNa_i2teVQ/s320/haha.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span>Kris n' Kelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15273239971556065096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945662704039277179.post-31516605735578666462011-04-11T21:57:00.000-04:002011-04-11T21:57:57.983-04:00Writing - Our Fickle Mistress<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYp8DiAYKKr-dhrnv6ktAaKp2o7XmxXsBoXXBLJjM3T1eWjV1RHOEkwLfYYLg-vEupAjaaA0Gx_nzXrCfLd1WfgLgrubixZ3rGo3k2GaPA7rT7mLk9thY7XEWUkCgKz4h2j62vIFqCNlw/s1600/writers-block.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYp8DiAYKKr-dhrnv6ktAaKp2o7XmxXsBoXXBLJjM3T1eWjV1RHOEkwLfYYLg-vEupAjaaA0Gx_nzXrCfLd1WfgLgrubixZ3rGo3k2GaPA7rT7mLk9thY7XEWUkCgKz4h2j62vIFqCNlw/s320/writers-block.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Here's the thing we all know/love/hate about writing: </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">it's a gift, but it's not really ours to wield. We have no control over this situation whatsoever. It comes and goes when it pleases. But... isn't that kind of the beauty of it?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">No. No it is not.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Well. Okay, so maybe sometimes, when the bitterness has faded some and we're strung out on coffee/chocolate/other various sugars and a little hysterical, then it's kind of amusing in a giggly sort of way. But you know... other than that.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">How do you cope with writing, that unstable mistress? What's it like to love something so fickle?</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ2vIRxb97vbVcm8iTi3RLuMwfFI1m6gAh778cMgL7EiXSOqDT4t1S6qTSiDLy97nsg2X6jZ53QeOljjaw6-I9H5IF6kjVXpmoBIuODQhyRd0CjhdqBvoMGtH6y9CTI2gt5uhJOa4JNMI/s1600/PrettyWoman4_240x260_041020080506.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ2vIRxb97vbVcm8iTi3RLuMwfFI1m6gAh778cMgL7EiXSOqDT4t1S6qTSiDLy97nsg2X6jZ53QeOljjaw6-I9H5IF6kjVXpmoBIuODQhyRd0CjhdqBvoMGtH6y9CTI2gt5uhJOa4JNMI/s1600/PrettyWoman4_240x260_041020080506.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I'm referring of course, to the way you can set aside time to write - hours, days even - and plan it all out. Set up your writing station just so, stock up on caffeine and finger foods, turn off the phone... but it's like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. She's not at your beck and call. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">But then the second you're preoccupied with something ENTIRELY too important too ignore - that's when she demands your attention. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Welcome to life, folks. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">It happens to me more often than not when I'm in my English classes. Or in any situation where math is involved. I'm sure I could analyze this further, but really the why isn't all that important. It's the "What now?" that really matters. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I try to keep little notebooks on my person all day so I can just give in to the muse, let her have her way with me and cope with the outcome later. I also have little jotted notes ALL over my class notes. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">So tell me, how do things work for you? Do you ride the wave, or resist the flow and make it happen?</span>Kris n' Kelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15273239971556065096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945662704039277179.post-34576724861424771292010-11-19T01:24:00.000-05:002010-11-19T01:24:51.159-05:00Prologue<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN7pNjmn8EvWYvAo-L0PWff6GKVb3IzxbGIehnZzrP92qy7rntyfP7JkuNyOCkP3REYMqzVqe-u88BfdRjhWFLiwtueL7Akw8pg29sb2FuE0iX8Xnw7NuVzu-BfwZ5FJ0Gb04dKxIdFmM/s1600/why_i_never_leave_my_husband_pm-thumb-270x270.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN7pNjmn8EvWYvAo-L0PWff6GKVb3IzxbGIehnZzrP92qy7rntyfP7JkuNyOCkP3REYMqzVqe-u88BfdRjhWFLiwtueL7Akw8pg29sb2FuE0iX8Xnw7NuVzu-BfwZ5FJ0Gb04dKxIdFmM/s320/why_i_never_leave_my_husband_pm-thumb-270x270.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> Emma hid in an unused corridor where she hoped no one would think to look for her, scrunching up to sit on the floor. She just needed to be alone. Tiny creatures had been pawing at her all day - braiding white flowers into her hair and trussing her up in elaborate gowns - trying to force joy into her through their own smiles. They only meant to please her, but could not understand her sadness. Human emotions were sometimes too complex for them. The paper she clenched in her hands crinkled up at the edges, the picture fading from so much recent use. She stared at the muted colors again, tracing their images with fingers that had grown too thin. Tears made their way down her face, discoloring the page as they dripped down. “Tomorrow,” she told the photograph, “I marry a king.”<br />
Sobs shook her frail form until she finally drifted to sleep, where hauntingly beautiful images chased her in her dreams. The sound of footfalls jarred her awake much later, clacking slowly and getting louder with each step. Him. She shivered and pushed herself further up against the wall, tucking her elaborate dress in around her. She all but stopped breathing, willing herself to become invisible. The footsteps stopped suddenly, hesitating, then picked up again, quicker and much louder. He rounded the corner, a dark shadow against the dusky light filling the hall. Those perfect sapphire eyes found her immediately, and a small sob escaped from her throat. <br />
He sighed, as if he could read her mind, or at least the fear on her face. Her heart still longed to find some trace of the love she had once imagined in his eyes, but a still place inside said to give up the hope. “Emma,” he whispered, lowering himself to meet her gaze. “I am afraid that we need to talk. It seems that I was wrong about you.” She whimpered. That horrible, beautiful monster. <br />
</div>Kris n' Kelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15273239971556065096noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945662704039277179.post-52224904222103412602010-08-02T02:44:00.000-04:002010-08-02T02:44:47.970-04:00It's been awhile...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">Hi all. It's been a little busy on my end. Not sure exactly what Kris is up to, as she's approximately 256 miles away, and I'm still in the Middle of Nowhere. But it's been good for me, I've had some time to sit back and look at <a href="http://takemyhand-followme.blogspot.com/2010/05/beckoned.html">Beckoned</a> and really think. And if only my laptop were actually in my possession, I would be able to write, because my fingers have been itching. But there are way too many things to do right now. I leave home to go back to college in six days. This is truly bittersweet. I'm so excited to be somewhere else, where family isn't constantly setting curfews (hello, I'm 20!) or asking where I am, and I can relax without being grumbled at. Also, writing is so much easier without my parents constantly asking me what I'm writing about every time they hear my keys click. What, you want me to read every sentence aloud to you? BUT - as excited as I am to be back in my own apartment and everything, there are things that I will miss terribly. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD_KcfQOu7Y_tcoN8K_ad3MlPa1ELACow8pKjR9obU8Ggrrx6K9iKbLbQ6RvA4xtAcIckruA_1BwlNslEj0-9TjCDm-m0ivIrQJpQHaGpXiBhsnuQogUPO0B1JBwyoqCijc0u2NB2VhWI/s1600/blog+abba.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD_KcfQOu7Y_tcoN8K_ad3MlPa1ELACow8pKjR9obU8Ggrrx6K9iKbLbQ6RvA4xtAcIckruA_1BwlNslEj0-9TjCDm-m0ivIrQJpQHaGpXiBhsnuQogUPO0B1JBwyoqCijc0u2NB2VhWI/s200/blog+abba.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> <span style="font-size: small;">First on that list, the world's most adorable five-year-old, and inspiration of all my joy, the Terrible AbbyDooZer! Rawr! She's the sweetest, sassiest, most hug-able little thing ever. I'm trying to convince her that it would be perfectly acceptable to move in with her Kessie. But she's stubborn.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
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</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj86Yyk9Q_mXGr-TmKFLhAQL8eO971c3Pt-vjRIJxtSiqfLUv-RKj3q4Csvyfd1SqZ1-oLigjZ9gqYkIMKiF1c5DhyphenhyphenoS0RPGItak93C-0AJE41231GqDuqgtO6oGzhT4A6u9mfa8M7U-Yg/s1600/blog+beach+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj86Yyk9Q_mXGr-TmKFLhAQL8eO971c3Pt-vjRIJxtSiqfLUv-RKj3q4Csvyfd1SqZ1-oLigjZ9gqYkIMKiF1c5DhyphenhyphenoS0RPGItak93C-0AJE41231GqDuqgtO6oGzhT4A6u9mfa8M7U-Yg/s1600/blog+beach+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj86Yyk9Q_mXGr-TmKFLhAQL8eO971c3Pt-vjRIJxtSiqfLUv-RKj3q4Csvyfd1SqZ1-oLigjZ9gqYkIMKiF1c5DhyphenhyphenoS0RPGItak93C-0AJE41231GqDuqgtO6oGzhT4A6u9mfa8M7U-Yg/s320/blog+beach+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Second, the beach. I mean, I live RIGHT on it. I always have. It is so hard to be away from the water. I think that's just something only someone in my situation could understand. It becomes a part of you, and a part of how you are and - woops, let me bring that to a screeching halt. You get the picture, no need for me to get all mopey.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqEqQ3E8Cp8m1F1BlXEedpFJr002N3_8Lj67C794mqdBQY9K0hWc4jjRb2Mwr1PWwPfLnSI772Q1cHylyAtvQad34ozUsa5lcZyLgfO8jY76SCgK6K79hueNjFqdaKP-4lubXZqnoROfo/s1600/blog+roxie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqEqQ3E8Cp8m1F1BlXEedpFJr002N3_8Lj67C794mqdBQY9K0hWc4jjRb2Mwr1PWwPfLnSI772Q1cHylyAtvQad34ozUsa5lcZyLgfO8jY76SCgK6K79hueNjFqdaKP-4lubXZqnoROfo/s320/blog+roxie.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> I will also miss my dog, Roxie Hart. But she'll be moving up just as soon as The Boy gets settled in his new place. (Oh yeah, The Boy is going with me this year. I'm so excited!)</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
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</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> I'm gonna miss my family too. And my hometown. And the stupidly comforting feeling of being in my horrendously lime green room (I picked the color out in grade school). But I need to get out, clear my head, go to class, write a book... live. I'll keep you posted on how it goes :)</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
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</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Till then, I remain somewhat yours.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> <3 always Kelsey Leigh</div>Kris n' Kelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15273239971556065096noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945662704039277179.post-26328147986538455002010-06-30T16:55:00.000-04:002010-06-30T16:55:04.424-04:00Bickering Blogfest!!!<br />
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Hello all! Here is our submission to Kristen Yard's <a href="http://kristen-takeitasitcomes.blogspot.com/">Bickering Blogfest</a>! Some background information: Emma, Faye's mother, is deathly afraid of everything for her daughter but a big one is losing Faye. Faye and Emma's relationship is tested after Faye makes a big announcement about her possible future. Hope you all enjoy! <3 Kris! (picture is from <a href="http://temporaryinsanitybykym.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/03/bickering.jpg">http://temporaryinsanitybykym.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/03/bickering.jpg</a> )<br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Imprint MT Shadow"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> Emma was racking up customers, and Faye wordlessly stepped around the counter to help. Her mother smiled gratefully, working the register as Faye bagged the various books, occasional c.d.’s, and t-shirts. They smiled as they worked, exchanging pleasantries as customers thanked them. When the last shopper had left the store, her mother sighed dramatically and collapsed on the counter, mumbling something into her crossed arms.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Imprint MT Shadow"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> “I’m sorry, what was that?” Faye smiled at her mother’s antics.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Imprint MT Shadow"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> Emma looked up at her with tired eyes that still held a glint of humor. Faye looked down into the face that so perfectly resembled her own, right down to the sharp cheekbones and button nose. The only real difference between them was that Emma’s eyes were honey brown. “I said, can we please close early?” She laughed a little at her own joke, but Faye could tell she was still partly serious.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Imprint MT Shadow"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> “You know, it is your store… You don’t have to stay open.” Emma’s eyes glinted mischievously, a sure sign she was contemplating it, especially now that she had gotten approval from her daughter. Emma had always seemed to rely on Faye to be the decision maker, to be the one who kept their family going. Emma <i>needed </i>her, and that was going to make this even harder. She took a deep breath. <i>Best to do it now, while she’s in a good mood,</i> she thought. She inhaled again, sharply, and held it for a moment. Emma noticed and raised an eyebrow, but did not speak. Faye let out the air in a nervous laugh. “I have good news,” she said shakily, knowing full well that her mother would disagree. “I got into all the schools I applied to. And you already know that a couple of months ago I qualified for that honor student’s scholarship… so now all I really have to worry about is which school to choose.” She looked up from the counter, where she had been stacking books to avoid her mother’s gaze. She met Emma’s eyes, and immediately wished that she hadn’t. She saw everything there that she had expected: annoyance mixed with jealous anger, with worry circling the edges. But what she hadn’t anticipated was the raw fear that was stark and vibrant in her mother’s every feature. Pure, uncompromising fear. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Imprint MT Shadow"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> What Faye was unprepared for was her own reaction to it. She had always taken care of Emma, and hadn’t ever minded before. On a normal day she would have soothed Emma, preternaturally accustomed to the way they contradicted their normal roles as mother and daughter, but today she was just livid - how could her mother be so selfish? How could she make something Faye had always wanted feel like something she should have guilt over? As the anger was building up inside Faye, Emma was regaining control over her emotions, hiding behind a carefully composed blank mask.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Imprint MT Shadow"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> “I thought that you had only applied to the local community college.” Emma’s voice was quiet and even, but Faye sensed the thread of frustration straining to break free. She couldn’t tell whether it was meant to be a question or a statement of fact. Either way, Faye was sure that she didn’t want to address it. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Imprint MT Shadow"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> “Mom, can’t you just congratulate me? It’s kind of a big deal to me.” She was sure to keep her growing temper in check. Inside, she tried to calm herself, but it wasn’t working. That question just kept repeating itself, bouncing around inside her skull and clanging like a bell set off at the wrong time. How could her mother be so selfish?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Imprint MT Shadow"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> Emma’s eyes remained cold, and the bells in Faye’s head got louder. After a long moment, Emma dropped her gaze and turned away from her daughter, calling back a weak congratulations over her shoulder as she walked through the store, cleaning it up as she went.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Imprint MT Shadow"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> Faye’s vision turned red and her thoughts were just muddled sounds of rage and expletives. For a moment, she didn’t actually breathe - just stood there trying to calm down. She tried to find the words for her mother, but nothing coherent would come out, and Emma was clear across the store by then, without even a backward glance at her daughter. Finally Faye just backed up, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder as she rushed away. The familiar smell of books clung to her, but it didn’t comfort her like it normally would have. Instead, she just kept repeating the scene in her head - right up until the moment where their relationship had shattered completely. Faye’s world was in tatters…and she was fuming over it.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Imprint MT Shadow"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> But what she couldn’t know was that after she left, Emma curled herself up in a ball beneath the counter, crying hysterically. </span></div>Kris n' Kelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15273239971556065096noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945662704039277179.post-8225084199337186782010-06-20T04:03:00.000-04:002010-06-20T04:03:05.650-04:00Bad Boy Blogfest ;)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6hQaaoRMOUZSIH6a5FlJbpDKQ8uV1e89Y4eV4K0hHUUEfwTW3TyrFYtMlqNa7v5WJObzE9_nWeKC7EOO_YTOseb0VkxPhB-X9ZyGb2EEAFgFFZ7DhETGPWhDw-baRFwKRcUG35i9dAmg/s1600/bad+boy+blogfest+pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6hQaaoRMOUZSIH6a5FlJbpDKQ8uV1e89Y4eV4K0hHUUEfwTW3TyrFYtMlqNa7v5WJObzE9_nWeKC7EOO_YTOseb0VkxPhB-X9ZyGb2EEAFgFFZ7DhETGPWhDw-baRFwKRcUG35i9dAmg/s200/bad+boy+blogfest+pic.jpg" width="135" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Today's blogfest is hosted by Tina Lynn over at <a href="http://tinalynnsandoval.blogspot.com/2010/05/bad-boy-blogfest.html">Sweet Niblets</a>, and promises to be tons of fun ;) I look forward to meeting everyone's characters, and we hope you like ours! Oh also, I have been sick, and I still need to get caught up from the Breaking the Rules Blogfest, but I promise to get to everyone's entry VERY SOON!!! Till then, meet Gage!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Some background info: He is tall, with dark brown hair that has a tendency to spike, or to fall into his eyes, depending upon his mood. His eyes are such a deep blue that you could fall flat into them, and his smile says he wants you to. He is the most handsome man you have EVER seen, and oh yeah, by the way, he's the Goblin King. (turns out they aren't all slimy and hairy. Who knew?)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">We were sitting at the same table again, under the same window who's gauzy blue curtains does nothing to block out the sun. The only difference this time is the flower. It was a single red rose, beautiful and romantic. Because that was how he wanted it. He wanted us to feel romanced. (Personally, I'm okay with that.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Kris was sitting beside me this time, with her own notebook, though I noticed she had forgotten a pen. I sighed, then pulled one out of my Mary Poppins-bag. If there is one thing I'm good for, it's extra pens. She took it, chewing on the cap to hide her anxiety. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"What if he doesn't come?" she asked, tilting her head at me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"He kind of has to. He doesn't really have a choice." I was worried about it too. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"I mean... But it's <i>Gage.</i>" She emphasized his name like it made a difference. It did. I nodded. I had already considered that. I hoped he would just cooperate, but didn't stock much faith in it. One never knew with Gage.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Suddenly, as if anticipating our doubts and the best way to amuse himself, the Goblin King himself popped into existence with a loud noise, cracking a smile as we both jumped. "Hello, ladies," he said smoothly as he kissed each of us on the back of our hands. We didn't want to feel attracted to him. It just kind of happens. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">In an aside to me, Kristen whispered, "I didn't know you could do <i>that."</i> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I stuck my tongue out at her. "Of course I can." Clearing my throat, I turned back to Gage, who had watched our exchange like a cat watching mice bicker. Amusement before consumption. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"So Gage," I tried not to stammer. "Maybe you could tell us what it means exactly. To be the Goblin King."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"I take care of the creatures classified as goblins in the Faerie Realm." He returned easily, like it was an everyday conversation. "Mostly, that means any faerie associated with the earth element. But our court also harbors the more-" here he grinned ferociously, "-troublesome nightmares." He looked down at the tablecloth, then lifted his lashes straight at Kristen. "Do you ever have nightmares?" He winked, and she blushed. <i>Oh boy,</i> I thought. <i>Here comes trouble. </i>I shrugged. Thank goodness it wasn't aimed at me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I cleared my throat again, to regain their attention. "What does your life consist of? Any special hobbies, or needs maybe? Wanna fill us in on those?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">He wasn't paying any attention to me. Instead, he had stretched his arm across the table to draw circles on the back of Kristen's hand. "Your eyes are so warm," he murmured to her. "Very like Emma's. You're just as beautiful too, you'd make a lovely Goblin Queen." He was practically consuming her with his eyes, and his smile was no better. And Kristen was caught. <i>Dammit.</i> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"Gage! Where's Faye?" His attention snapped back to me instantaneously.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"Is she not here, with you, in this in-between place?" His eyes were back to their natural, un-consuming state.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I shook my head. "Nope. She must be back with Kale." I shrugged like it was no big deal, but knew it was. He lost his calm facade for a brief moment, and his hair went spiky before he could settle down. He stood up with a languid grace befitting a king, and bent in a small bow towards us. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"I'm sorry ladies, but I will have to cut this one short. Until next time." He took a moment to grin flirtatiously at Kristen, who had regained enough of herself to blanch noticeably. He popped out of existence again, and we both breathed a sigh of relief. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I grabbed a bottle of water from my purse, took a swig and passed it to Kris. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"Whew. Faye's got her work cut out for her, huh?"</span>Kris n' Kelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15273239971556065096noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945662704039277179.post-74746515197271813092010-06-18T14:31:00.000-04:002010-06-18T14:31:10.600-04:00Breaking the Rules Blogfest<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd8r-l5aIzyiaB-jdGlchVnwCPSMyzEqr-CjwlCiEUtKBcV34oZIoRbbp4SOeGdro0fyYRFVXOgYElz3H5EVZIKr2pxIByo-skbHf3aazBLs_9E8fSIyEhgbSEtkP8ZRPjWGFDxbLHKr4/s1600/breaking+the+rules+blogfest.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd8r-l5aIzyiaB-jdGlchVnwCPSMyzEqr-CjwlCiEUtKBcV34oZIoRbbp4SOeGdro0fyYRFVXOgYElz3H5EVZIKr2pxIByo-skbHf3aazBLs_9E8fSIyEhgbSEtkP8ZRPjWGFDxbLHKr4/s320/breaking+the+rules+blogfest.png" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Hi all. I feel like bleh. Stomach virus. Meh. Anyway, I didn't really have any first drafts to post, so I'm putting up an old poem from high school. It fails, lol. But back then I thought it was amazing, so there you go. Anyway, here we go:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Faded halo hung askew</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Over the right eye of the girl in the wrong</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Blocking the view of a small-minded town's high school watering hole</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The cafeteria, to be more precise.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Smiles came at her from every corner in the room, most forced or too sweet.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">She struggled not to glare back</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But couldn't form a smile. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Too many demons</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Too many dark shadows called her name.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">How could so much have gone wrong?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">She had been happy-</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Oh, how she had been happy</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But she tried to push the limit</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Tried to take everything one step further</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">One step further would up being just over the edge.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">She had meant well, honestly she had</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Closing her eyes, she sought refuge in the arms of another</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The only one who was always there</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">In high school, a best friend is a miracle.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">For her, her friend was the only thing she had left.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">More than a miracle. A gift from above.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">She struggled through a sadness induced fog as she contemplated her options.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">There weren't many. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But she wasn't giving up, God willing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">She held her head high, and lifted her chin slightly</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Fighting off the shame.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">She pulled herself together, took three deep breaths</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Was almost functional enough to release her friend from her vice-like hug</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But then he walked in</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Her mistake</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And she crumpled apart all over again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Well, that wasn't too painful now, was it? I had to fight myself from editing this as I typed it up. Oh, well. Be sure to check out the other entries at Elizabeth's blog <a href="http://elizabethmueller.blogspot.com/2010/05/because-rules-are-meant-to-be-broken.html">here.</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Mmkthanxbai.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><3 Kelsey Leigh</span>Kris n' Kelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15273239971556065096noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945662704039277179.post-45931920167019090152010-06-17T02:41:00.001-04:002010-06-20T22:11:24.662-04:00Awards - SQUEEEEEE!!! :D (and giveaway info)<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I picked the worst day imaginable to be far away from my computer. *sigh* I have learned my lesson. (No, I probably haven't. I just can't stay glued here all day...The Boyfriend needs tending to occasionally.) Anywho... Something AMAZING happened. We got our very first, AND our very second award!! Yay! *throws confetti!* (note to self - find someone to pick up confetti.) The adorable Renae and the charming Suzie over at <a href="http://renaemercado.blogspot.com/">The Siren's Song</a> and <a href="http://thewritejunkie.blogspot.com/">~Writer Junkie~</a> (respectively) have both gifted us the Versatile Blogger Award. Yay! *another handful of confetti* Thank you ladies!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Now, here are the rules:</span><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">1. Thank and link back to the person who gave you this award.</span><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">2. Share 7 things about yourself.</span><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">3. Pass the award along to 15 bloggers who you have recently discovered and who you think are fantastic for whatever reason! (In no particular order...)</span><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">4. Contact the bloggers you've picked and let them know about the award.</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">See, those aren't so bad, huh? Actually, I think it'll be tons of fun :) Here we go! (P.S. I'm adding my 7 things at the moment, with the assumption that Kristen will update this post at a later time with hers. So keep checking in!)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Kelsey Leigh's 7 things:</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>1.</b> I wish life were a musical.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>2.</b> I hate feet. Even my own. bleh.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>3.</b> I cannot be parted from my cell phone. NOoOoOo!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>4.</b> I talk to inanimate objects. And sometimes expect them to respond. (shhh.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>5.</b> Sometimes I get so caught up in writing/reading that I forget to do basic things. Like eat, or sleep.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>6. </b>My nose wrinkles up involuntarily when I am displeased.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>7.</b> I like to find the humor in everything.<b> </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Kristen's 7 things:</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>1. </b>Most people think I'm shy and quiet they get to know me and find out the opposite.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>2. </b>My southern accent comes and goes in spurts.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>3.</b> I'm the worst storyteller known to man, but my friends find it amusing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>4. </b>Reading generally consumes my existence. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>5. </b>I'm short and so clumsy that I tend to trip on flat surfaces...a lot. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>6. </b>I absolutely hate spiders. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>7. </b>I love sticking out my tongue in pictures...its kinda my trademark. :)</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b> </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And now, our award goes to:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>1. </b>Jinxie at <a href="http://jinxiesworld.blogspot.com/">Jinxie' World</a><b> </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>2. </b>NL Gervasio at <a href="http://nlgervasio.wordpress.com/">http://nlgervasio.wordpress.com/</a><b> </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>3. </b>Amalia at <a href="http://hellia.blogspot.com/">http://hellia.blogspot.com/</a><b> </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>4. </b>Dave Bartlett at <a href="http://bartie-blog.blogspot.com/">http://bartie-blog.blogspot.com/</a><b> </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>5. </b>W. J. Howard at <a href="http://bloodlegger.blogspot.com/">http://bloodlegger.blogspot.com/</a><b> </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>6. </b>Andrew at <a href="http://blog.dawnsrise.com/">http://blog.dawnsrise.com/</a><b> </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>7. </b>Mia at <a href="http://literaryjamandtoast.blogspot.com/">http://literaryjamandtoast.blogspot.com/</a><b> </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>8. </b>Sharon at <a href="http://sharongerlach.wordpress.com/">http://sharongerlach.wordpress.com/</a><b> </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>9. </b>Sandra at <a href="http://ulbrichalmazan.blogspot.com/">http://ulbrichalmazan.blogspot.com/</a><b> </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>10. </b>Valerie at <a href="http://candleinsunshine.com/asthemoonclimbs/">http://candleinsunshine.com/asthemoonclimbs/</a><b> </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>11. </b>Bethany Elizabeth at <a href="http://beyeager.blogspot.com/">http://beyeager.blogspot.com/</a><b> </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>12. </b>H. C. Palmquist at <a href="http://wantonactsofwriting.wordpress.com/">http://wantonactsofwriting.wordpress.com/</a><b> </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>13. </b>Ju at <a href="http://judimello.blogspot.com/">http://judimello.blogspot.com/</a><b> </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>14. </b>Elizabeth at <a href="http://elizabethmueller.blogspot.com/">http://elizabethmueller.blogspot.com/</a><b> </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>15. </b>Janet at <a href="http://janetsumnerjohnson.blogspot.com/">http://janetsumnerjohnson.blogspot.com/</a><b> </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Now we have also had a surge of followers lately, so I wanted to say hi to everyone, and thank you! Kris and I are getting together this weekend to talk about hosting our own blogfest, and also a giveaway! Yes, a giveaway!!! Woo! So remember, keep checking in either here or in the twitterverse. Thanks all!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><3 Kelsey Leigh </span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span>Kris n' Kelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15273239971556065096noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945662704039277179.post-12789023843609166422010-06-15T03:47:00.003-04:002010-06-15T11:55:55.065-04:00Character Interview Blogfest :)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Hj0YQdjFL6nY_TTsRCnnqQfWiKlBBHsaUqHr9YvGSjqsxxYX7BFn7Dtf2Z7CiTY5MPFhw9sFN1IR8sgXBe6r9tLmSX4dFZ06729X3nQUmZcAglpzokrSneEYva6FmPecQ0-Se9K-utI/s1600/curly_hair_cut.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Hj0YQdjFL6nY_TTsRCnnqQfWiKlBBHsaUqHr9YvGSjqsxxYX7BFn7Dtf2Z7CiTY5MPFhw9sFN1IR8sgXBe6r9tLmSX4dFZ06729X3nQUmZcAglpzokrSneEYva6FmPecQ0-Se9K-utI/s200/curly_hair_cut.jpg" width="160" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Today's blogfest is hosted by the ever lovely Sangu over at <a href="http://sangumandanna.blogspot.com/">Echoes of a Wayward Mind. </a>And I thought I would interview my main - main character from <a href="http://takemyhand-followme.blogspot.com/2010/05/beckoned.html">Beckoned</a>, Faye. She's quirky but wise, with a sense of humor that kicks ass and a strong and caring heart. I could talk to you about her personality forever, but I think it's probably just best to let her speak for herself. Here goes :)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Faye is sitting at a small table in a sunlit room. There wasn't much that can be seen, because most everything was washed out by golden light. But what was visible was perfectly detailed. There was a singular pink daisy in a short blue vase. The vase matched the gauzy pale blue curtains exactly. She picked at the table cloth - it had a lacy floral pattern that reminded her of... something. It danced in the back of her memory just out of reach. I sat across the table from her, notepad and pen in hand. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> She blinked at her new surroundings and at me, startled but unafraid. That's the way I wrote her. "Where am I?" she asked calmly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"I'm sorry," I replied. "I know this isn't your world, but I just wanted to ask you a few questions." I paused, then added shyly, "I'm the writer."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">She rested her forehead on her hand and sighed in exasperation. "It figures. How many more worlds are you planning on dragging me into? I'm still trying to handle the latest one."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"How is that going, by the way?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"Well it's... It's wonderful. I have so much fun there. Gage has been amazing, and his brother Kale is fantastic too. And your world is just... well, it's just beautiful. It's -" she chuckled. "It's out of this world." Rolling her eyes at her own joke, she beamed at me, and I smiled back, though a little sadly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"What about the bad things?" I ask her. "The dark things? Don't they bother you?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">She looked a little startled, as if maybe she thought I wouldn't bring that part up. Her expression quickly turned thoughtful. "I guess it bothered me at first. But it's in their nature. They aren't all like you and me. Some were born <i>just</i> to be the things that go bump in the night. Can I blame them for being themselves?" She shrugged, then continued. "Besides, the light is nothing without the darkness. How can I appreciate the beauty without having seen its' counterpart?" I smiled at her. It was why she was my favorite, her openness and compassion towards others, no matter what the species. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I cleared my throat some, and shuffled the papers in front of me. "I guess we should ask some more questions. Shop things, you know? I had a stack of index cards here somewhere... Oh, well. Off the top of my head then. So, can you tell us about your parents?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">She leaned forward across the table and stage-whispered, "You already know my parents."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"I know, I know, but it's not for me, you see. Other people want to know."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">She looked around curiously. "Oh? Who?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I was getting exasperated at this point. "Don't worry about that. Just talk."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">She frowned at me, but spoke none-the-less. "I only know my mother. When I was growing up, she was so superstitious, and so afraid for me, like something was always out to get me. Her biggest fear was that I would get snatched away. Though, I guess that now that I <i>have,</i> that fear was perfectly logical." Her lips pursed thoughtfully for a moment, till she quickly added, "But it was my choice to come here. And I wouldn't have run away if she hadn't been harassing me. Besides, going there is the best thing that's ever happened to me. I love it there." She nodded defiantly, daring me to disagree with her. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I smiled at her unruliness. "So tell me about Gage and Kale. Anything to share there?" I winked, and she responded with a blush.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"Gage has been amazing. He's the one who took me there, you know? He's a king there. He kind of adopted me into his family. His subjects even call me 'princess.'" She giggled, then quieted. "And then there's Kale, his brother. I'm pretty sure both of them like me, but there's just something about Kale." She smiled and ducked her head. "I think I love them both."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I sighed; I was afraid of that. "Are you having a hard time choosing between them?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">She looked me straight in the eye as she answered. "Yeah, honest to goodness, I really am."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I made a note on my paper so she wouldn't see my face. "Don't worry, it will get easier."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">She was instantly aware. "What does that mean? What do you know?" She glared at me, leaning across the table, grey eyes sparking. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I was prepared for her reaction, and it didn't faze me. "Don't worry. Everything will be okay in the end."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">She tilted her head to the side slightly, studying me. "How do you know?" she asked cautiously.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I laughed at that. "Because I don't write sad books."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">She laughed too, and the tension eased. I looked down at my watch and sighed. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"I have to send you back."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"I guess that's probably a good thing. Kale and Gage will be wondering what I'm up to." She cringed, then added, "I wish they wouldn't fight so much." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I laughed a little as she started to fade, and then reminded her. "They're goblins, Faye. That's just what they do."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">-Thanks all, hope you enjoyed! Be sure to check out the other entries too! Also, keep checking back or checking in with twitter. Kris and I will be hosting a giveaway soon!!!</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><3 Kelsey Leigh</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>*Update: I used the word check a lot last night.*</b> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span>Kris n' Kelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15273239971556065096noreply@blogger.com33tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945662704039277179.post-11799967476600901502010-06-12T02:59:00.000-04:002010-06-12T02:59:53.194-04:00Next Top Title Blogfest :)<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">You can find the host site of this fabulous blogfest </span><a href="http://slushpileslut.blogspot.com/" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">here.</a> <span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Just so everyone is aware... Kris and I have already chosen the name of our WIP, but it will still be fun to see your opinions. And hey, who knows? Yall may just change our minds :)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">For a fun bonus round, if anybody would want to read our <a href="http://takemyhand-followme.blogspot.com/2010/05/beckoned.html">synopsis</a> (and yes, the title we have chosen can be found here) and SUGGEST names they think we out to check out, then by all means, feel free!!!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Without further gilding the lily, and with no more a due, I give you....</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Our Top Titles:</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">1. Choices</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">2. Beckoned</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">3. The Sunset Gates</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">4. Take My Hand</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">5. Caught In Thrall</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Tell us what you think!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><3 Kelsey Leigh </span>Kris n' Kelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15273239971556065096noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945662704039277179.post-60628560190479663692010-06-06T18:24:00.004-04:002010-06-08T22:37:13.268-04:00Contests and Blogfests Galore!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_QfmD4uAooOT8NMbQpJ2RmTWhCBVXm2kv6v3g3y9BlTm4758QU4uugqnZL0XkXbF7RIp9p4m2wAzW06zduaCbLxIRcUSXnZuWlJSgKBA4cA3v0YmvKzTsXDO9zSniOsSItF9QfzWcNuE/s1600/puffin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_QfmD4uAooOT8NMbQpJ2RmTWhCBVXm2kv6v3g3y9BlTm4758QU4uugqnZL0XkXbF7RIp9p4m2wAzW06zduaCbLxIRcUSXnZuWlJSgKBA4cA3v0YmvKzTsXDO9zSniOsSItF9QfzWcNuE/s320/puffin.jpg" /></a></div>I am already embarrassed at myself for this title, oh well. First off, hello new followers! *imagines hearing a chorus of people reply, "Hello, Kelsey!"* It is really exciting to see our blog grow so much. I want to hug every single one of you :)<br />
*clears throat* In other news, I give you the link to an awesome blogger, and I am promoting her contest. Be sure to get your entry in! <a href="http://inkinallforms.blogspot.com/">OMGShesGivingAway12BooksThisIsCrazy!!!</a><br />
And yet another giveaway at <a href="http://www.pureimaginationblog.com/">Pure Imagination!</a> <br />
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Also, the <a href="http://hellia.blogspot.com/">Dreamfest</a> was a ball, so we will be keeping that going with a pile of other blogfests! Here they are, in chronological order. (I will post more as I discover them.)<br />
June 12th <a href="http://slushpileslut.blogspot.com/2010/05/americas-next-top-title-blogfestfinally.html">Top Title Blogfest</a><br />
June 15th <a href="http://sangumandanna.blogspot.com/2010/05/character-interview-blogfest.html">Character Interview Blogfest</a><br />
June 18th <a href="http://elizabethmueller.blogspot.com/2010/05/because-rules-are-meant-to-be-broken.html">Breaking the Rules Blogfest</a> <br />
June 20th <a href="http://tinalynnsandoval.blogspot.com/">Bad Boy Blogfest</a><br />
June 30th <a href="http://kristen-takeitasitcomes.blogspot.com/">Bickering Blogfest</a><br />
July 1st <a href="http://michellegregory.blogspot.com/p/share-your-darlings-blogfest.html">Share Your Darlings Blogfest</a> <br />
July 18th <a href="http://tessasblurb.blogspot.com/2010/05/announcing-death-scene-blogfest.html">The Death Scene Blogfest</a><br />
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I'll keep you updated! Also, if you would like for me to host a button for your website (and are willing to host mine, see upper right-hand corner), leave a comment and I'll happily add you!<br />
Thanks again! Goodnight, followers! *hears distant chorus of, "Goodnight, Kelsey!"*<br />
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<3 Kelsey LeighKris n' Kelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15273239971556065096noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945662704039277179.post-57749147619116944922010-06-04T02:42:00.002-04:002010-06-04T10:32:18.769-04:00Dreamfest Blogfest!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFvSVk0il2jFOnxS1SNGaL2egBWATlsJl5UAfwNIEhw7D_87BSiP-CUaBKAMnZZmo2XvJZP1tHYyjAsh-zTGgnMv_aby71epXNXmh5hoqsyYHut7NbBtMCOZlC7BUr4q5O9GfuAfbItro/s1600/BLOG.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFvSVk0il2jFOnxS1SNGaL2egBWATlsJl5UAfwNIEhw7D_87BSiP-CUaBKAMnZZmo2XvJZP1tHYyjAsh-zTGgnMv_aby71epXNXmh5hoqsyYHut7NbBtMCOZlC7BUr4q5O9GfuAfbItro/s320/BLOG.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Don't freak, peeps. Just re-posting Faye's dream from Beckoned in honor of the Dreamfest! (found at http://hellia.blogspot.com/)</div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">She was walking through the woods. Now, there was nothing particularly wrong with that, except she should have been at home in bed. She should have been asleep. But instead, she was traipsing through the woods in the middle of the night like some sort of flower-child, wearing this long, flowing gown and no shoes! She looked down at the delicate lace covering her legs and feet in disdain. Even on her least sensible days, she knew better than to go tromping through the brush and brambles without flip-flops on at least.</div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">She stopped walking and looked around. The moon was brighter than she had ever seen it before, low and glowing silver in the sky. She could see a narrow trail stretching through a grove of oak trees ahead of her; wooden boards were set into the dirt path like steps leading up. She hesitated. Where was she? She had never been here before, and a feeling in her stomach told her she was very far from home.</div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>You know where to go. Just keep on following the path, mon cher.</i> She shivered. So she was hearing voices now? An incredibly charming, utterly convincing, undeniably male voice at that? She found herself moving towards the path, willingly pulled by some force she couldn’t identify . She climbed up the wooden steps, looking down almost absently as she felt the slight sting of a splinter lodging itself in her right foot. It didn’t matter - there was something wonderful at the top of that hill.</div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">She could see a glowing up ahead, like concentrated sunlight, golden and intense; she couldn’t look directly at it. But she caught the outline of things: a huge, majestic but oddly shaped tree; something whose shape gave the faint hint of gates; and a man, who she knew was staring directly at her, though she couldn’t see his face. It was his voice she had heard whispering across her mind, his voice she could hear now. <i>Take my hand</i>. The stranger extended his arm, palm up and towards her. <i>Take my hand and follow me, mon cher. Come back with me.</i> She almost did, almost reached out to clasp those mysterious fingers… when she remembered.</div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">What about Emma? Her steps faltered - she couldn‘t leave her mother behind. The thought was barely formed in her head when she was already turning away, leaving that mysterious stranger reaching for her, that welcoming glowing light pulsing at her back. She could feel him calling for her, but it was a frustrated sound without words. The shock of it radiated through her, and she stumbled, lost her footing, and fell headfirst down the hill. She closed her eyes, bracing herself as her stomach flew up into her throat and…</div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">…she woke up flinging her tangled limbs in a fit, pillows flung across the room and comforter nowhere to be seen. Faye’s eyes were opened wide as she panned her room frantically, looking for the silhouetted man. She could still feel him in her mind, could still feel that frustrated cry. But she didn’t see him anywhere, and slowly the paranoia faded - it was only a dream. As the panic inside her died down, exhaustion crept back in, till her eyes closed and her body relaxed. She faded off to sleep, thinking of that warm golden light and her irritated stranger. But when sleep came, no dreams followed.</div>Kris n' Kelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15273239971556065096noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945662704039277179.post-55078663884055835682010-05-27T00:49:00.008-04:002010-06-13T22:25:20.543-04:00No longer MIA<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL7JawqFxSIqrOp2kTMBWi3uMadQCLS_y-JnNVcokFUIRx_ZyOJ95SWFvKvyNEORTZmyw2YhJ6zmmm95xXeJDimxLYFIu-u4BTJtrujnSrxQaB2uycm1t_vV3bRIQ2eFY5mSD7tUySr98/s1600/meme+220.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475823887926080658" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL7JawqFxSIqrOp2kTMBWi3uMadQCLS_y-JnNVcokFUIRx_ZyOJ95SWFvKvyNEORTZmyw2YhJ6zmmm95xXeJDimxLYFIu-u4BTJtrujnSrxQaB2uycm1t_vV3bRIQ2eFY5mSD7tUySr98/s320/meme+220.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 240px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Well as indicated in the title, I am no longer missing in action! I was actually on vacation visiting some friends and family in Arkansas and Oklahoma. Unfortunately, at my grandparent’s house in Oklahoma my phone looses all service completely. This would be why all my friends thought I had disappeared. While in Oklahoma I took some pictures at this beautiful lake called Tenkiller, I know weird name for a lake but it’s Cherokee so I like it. Anyway, all of these pictures are from the lake and the ones that I liked the best. </div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj-2PrAcX4SmoGCI7e4B9gVL8l3ccicsfFcEp0kSmWv1QTZQhiNnyeJlZEYDC_THGfPnbTCTypGrCHHETwtm5mZv0O19Ui9W0SDO4qBPmgetxIKZ5I3QCQ7XKvuSZU8Cxc9Yc8By_G18Y/s1600/meme+213.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475823379007153890" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj-2PrAcX4SmoGCI7e4B9gVL8l3ccicsfFcEp0kSmWv1QTZQhiNnyeJlZEYDC_THGfPnbTCTypGrCHHETwtm5mZv0O19Ui9W0SDO4qBPmgetxIKZ5I3QCQ7XKvuSZU8Cxc9Yc8By_G18Y/s320/meme+213.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So in regards to Beckoned, I am so excited about Chapter 2!!! Kelsey is doing an amazing job at making our characters come to life. She is also doing some awesome twittering and book promoting. And yes as soon as the chapter is reviewed and approved by the Secret Nazi aka me there will be a sneak peak! Well yall there wasn’t much to post so enjoy the pictures and get stoked for Chapter 2 of BECKONED!!!!</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCBHpzu3lDRXCBNZEXgV_F5gaBjg9_-neq5KIRcQxXU6wdqWC-5XUyal3rq27_K6fQODsg16F-CQX-UGSp-NAkHHjD4R7YXzWlhJ33T42nnUAaVEglOesgK6-qDyZy_6Rvx-rB5X2o9HM/s1600/meme+212.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475822976630387506" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCBHpzu3lDRXCBNZEXgV_F5gaBjg9_-neq5KIRcQxXU6wdqWC-5XUyal3rq27_K6fQODsg16F-CQX-UGSp-NAkHHjD4R7YXzWlhJ33T42nnUAaVEglOesgK6-qDyZy_6Rvx-rB5X2o9HM/s320/meme+212.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 240px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 320px;" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Kristen 8)</div>Kris n' Kelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15273239971556065096noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945662704039277179.post-33019968495150402182010-05-21T13:16:00.008-04:002010-05-22T19:55:31.999-04:00Chapter Two!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrDpIHtkSBdxH8QZYxX0MXV90WmDNSxa88cfVMYp1Mc-JCGrbPXWaUlyYXNJ7KHFvrN0pqUBFF4TjkwksjpfFd_o-b6rr1aWkUBnwEJXSul3FJiREuLCQ4dZwpaXrWZRLvs7_EaRC4c0c/s1600/DSCN1477.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrDpIHtkSBdxH8QZYxX0MXV90WmDNSxa88cfVMYp1Mc-JCGrbPXWaUlyYXNJ7KHFvrN0pqUBFF4TjkwksjpfFd_o-b6rr1aWkUBnwEJXSul3FJiREuLCQ4dZwpaXrWZRLvs7_EaRC4c0c/s320/DSCN1477.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473774132141003938" /></a><br />Exciting news! Chapter Two is almost complete! (and by complete, I mean nowhere near done because it still needs to be edited and shot and flown in via helicopter for surgery and then edited again and then maybe, just maybe, it will be complete!) I thought I had finished it earlier, but when I read it all the way through I just felt like something was missing... oh yeah, the actual story! Sometimes I get a little distracted by my own thoughts so that I don't even realize what's getting on the paper. But that's kind of the beauty of being an unpublished author. I have all the time in the world to screw up and then fix it and then yes, screw up again. Granted, I want to get this published. I want to share our story with the world. But the true beauty is that no one is riding my back to get it done. I wonder if published authors miss that sense of peace?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_IS8Re0BArzd1DALgTJfXLfuO4XCJpySyxs_RzEN83OI4BdhKi8HExQ79PCxr3aNzYmsfJ7Ry6qU66tMwYmm6l18s4IrcFJix_Gfz52urwII-ZukdjNVvkASEKuI4ae6XZsEnml6jA_Y/s1600/DSCN1411.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_IS8Re0BArzd1DALgTJfXLfuO4XCJpySyxs_RzEN83OI4BdhKi8HExQ79PCxr3aNzYmsfJ7Ry6qU66tMwYmm6l18s4IrcFJix_Gfz52urwII-ZukdjNVvkASEKuI4ae6XZsEnml6jA_Y/s320/DSCN1411.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473777151325751778" /></a><br />In a completely unrelated note, Kristen has been missing for a few days. We found her though, don't worry. Isn't it funny that today, in our technology era, that people can still find ways to lose themselves? *raises eyebrows at roommate*<br />(I've been spending a lot of time on St. Simon's Island... it's very close to my home. All of the pictures in this post are from my adventures there.) Well, for those of us not on vacation *eyes roommate disdainfully* the summer has officially started... I go back to work on Monday. A job is a job... I just wish I had a different one. A job that actually highlighted my talents and that I enjoyed thoroughly. Dream a little dream, right?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGsO5R8jLgig3QErYdoDSfu_5v2dejrEsQoQavasBLkuuA_q-O9T3a7H88hFqFFmkyU5onTG9XkPlApVhr_WORo9A4Os5cn697UV-UmPVSxk_6xekw7OzslK4vPUTbJCT26n4LelfRKyE/s1600/DSCN1483.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGsO5R8jLgig3QErYdoDSfu_5v2dejrEsQoQavasBLkuuA_q-O9T3a7H88hFqFFmkyU5onTG9XkPlApVhr_WORo9A4Os5cn697UV-UmPVSxk_6xekw7OzslK4vPUTbJCT26n4LelfRKyE/s320/DSCN1483.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473778634925821538" /></a><br />Back to Beckoned... I am so excited with the direction that Chapter Two is taking. Hopefully Kristen the Secret Nazi will let me post at least a little sneak peek once it's complete (refer to the first paragraph for a definition of complete)*also*(I'm just kidding about the Nazi thing... if it weren't for her, I would probably post the whole book online. She keeps me in check.)For any other writers out there, have you ever noticed how your writing sometimes seems to have a mind of it's own? It is both beautiful and scary. But that's why I love it so much. :)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlOa_RJ_uIzQtLywR1Yi0JLVHgDRvjmnhXEm0YCJTm9idhcQ289TrFKQdcW1067Wyb7OFombK9xIENSgkCjIDpZoRuBOc0owluPRaIGq8Fa-GOhRSafrVZH-nRdnpZlym0hygKv4lV2x0/s1600/DSCN0064hee.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 192px; height: 97px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlOa_RJ_uIzQtLywR1Yi0JLVHgDRvjmnhXEm0YCJTm9idhcQ289TrFKQdcW1067Wyb7OFombK9xIENSgkCjIDpZoRuBOc0owluPRaIGq8Fa-GOhRSafrVZH-nRdnpZlym0hygKv4lV2x0/s320/DSCN0064hee.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474247183582978546" /></a>Kris n' Kelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15273239971556065096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945662704039277179.post-5345918417139443692010-05-10T21:20:00.004-04:002010-05-11T17:14:32.085-04:00Full Chapter One<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3891Ky01vvDeiawg9fzwgekT-uW0tJ0bWxQ7p_TRVV7viRIVppD8XscwKZa011GVfUOVQSuX7pt5y-NV8176pGfhX3ZoCGybIyJKZQvrX3Z_9vxqIBTvJ7SuJcR0rmxGvTz_z5FNqiF8/s1600/adjust3.5.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 272px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3891Ky01vvDeiawg9fzwgekT-uW0tJ0bWxQ7p_TRVV7viRIVppD8XscwKZa011GVfUOVQSuX7pt5y-NV8176pGfhX3ZoCGybIyJKZQvrX3Z_9vxqIBTvJ7SuJcR0rmxGvTz_z5FNqiF8/s320/adjust3.5.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470123362457905378" /></a><br />So if you are a facebook friend or a follower on twitter, you already know. But just in case, Kristen and I entered a bit of Beckoned into Melissa Marr's writing contest, Radiant Prose. Which means, for anybody who wanted more, that you can see the full version of chapter one up online at http://radiantprose.com/entry/view/361 :) And if you're going to read it, please vote for us too!<br /><br />Thanks all!<br /><br />Love,<br />Kelsey Leigh<br /><br /><br />P.S. The picture is something I took in my hometown. Nothing special or representative of anything Beckoned-related... or is it? Hmmm... LolKris n' Kelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15273239971556065096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945662704039277179.post-88122963093677193362010-05-02T20:19:00.010-04:002010-05-08T16:03:01.257-04:00Beckoned<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqQGwYepAMcJLOIodMVa9H0XWhRz7OgW2lixE8F0NOf7DgZUoCOkc6dsKXLz0pbB47qz9i5HazNcr9GyZeRkPXH4smbhu0Zxr6EoUISTf6zUeu6BXZ5DCkOEAzNGLy0EnkRFW2n3wKw8M/s1600/hand_reaching_out_thumb3.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 295px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqQGwYepAMcJLOIodMVa9H0XWhRz7OgW2lixE8F0NOf7DgZUoCOkc6dsKXLz0pbB47qz9i5HazNcr9GyZeRkPXH4smbhu0Zxr6EoUISTf6zUeu6BXZ5DCkOEAzNGLy0EnkRFW2n3wKw8M/s320/hand_reaching_out_thumb3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466832201565056754" /></a><br /><br />Hey peeps....um, pretend I said something cooler than peeps, something awesome. Anyway, we told you we're writing a book? Well, in an exciting endeavor, we're posting up our synopsis, prologue, and a very teeny tiny bit of chapter one. Please, PLEASE, leave comments, that's what we really need here. While I do admit that encouragement is what we're hoping for, constructive criticism is also appreciated. Well, without further ado, here's <span style="font-style:italic;"></span>Beckoned! Enjoy!<br /><br />--Love, Kelsey Leigh<br /><br />P.S. Image above is originally from https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzwac9m6SkWCxzSMoKgPRu5bfRWTtvU3CvIHrdPRYHxcP9kVgFSWzSQLC3X9Sj0RQkW6Fm7-zxOsDi-JRuv3FSpzUiMV9FkgJjuA7q6SGG-tyFnsIKvFhpOV3srkQjDsI5j05FdhKL4xs/s400/hand_reaching_out_thumb3.jpg.<br /><br />P.S.S. Things in parentheses are supposed to be italicized. Don't worry, it doesn't happen much.<br /><br /><br />Synopsis<br /><br /><br /> Faelynn Kendrick has spent her life babysitting her mother, which wasn’t such a bad thing, after all. Her mother was eccentric, to be sure, but she was also her best friend. But no matter how much she loved her life - the faded yellow house on the edge of the woods, the sweet simplicity of a small southern town, the unexplainably wondrous smell of the books in her mother’s store - she had always wanted more. She wanted to wander, to explore, to do things she had never done before……but worry for her mother had always kept her hanging back.<br /> Until one day, a fight with her mother sparks a fire in Faye that commits her to one decision - leaving. Which makes it the perfect time for other forces to reach out and draw her in… When Faye is beckoned into another world by a mysterious and alluring stranger, a royal rogue named Gage, she finds everything she ever wanted: adventure, magic, and freedom. But is it really as perfect as it seems? Can there be another motive for Gage’s unquestioning affection? When the magic surrounding her threatens to close in, Faye must rely on a deeper, more primal magic to get back home - her own.<br /><br /><br />Prologue<br /><br /><br /> There, in the depths of the castle where she hoped no one would think to look for her, Emma squeezed herself into a small alcove, scrunching up to sit on the floor. The paper she clenched in her hands crinkled up at the edges, the picture fading from so much recent use. She stared at the muted colors again, tracing their images with fingers that had grown too thin. Tears made their way down her face, discoloring the page as they dripped down. “Tomorrow,” she told the photograph, “I marry a king.”<br /> Sobs shook her frail form until she finally drifted into sleep, where hauntingly beautiful images chased her in her dreams. She woke up much later to the sound of footfalls, clacking slowly, getting louder with each step. It was him. She shivered, pushing herself further up against the wall and tucking in the skirts of her elaborate dress around her. She all but stopped breathing, willing herself to become a statue. All too soon however, those perfect sapphire eyes lit on her, and a small sob escaped from her throat. That horrible, beautiful monster.<br /> He sighed, as if he could read her mind, or at least the fear on her face. “Emma,” he whispered, lowering himself to meet her gaze. “I am afraid that we need to talk. It seems that I was wrong about you.” She whimpered. That horrible, beautiful monster. <br /><br /> <br />Sneak Peek of Chapter One<br /><br /><br /><br /> She was walking through the woods. Now, there was nothing particularly wrong with that, except she should have been at home in bed. She should have been asleep. But instead, she was traipsing through the woods in the middle of the night like some sort of flower-child, wearing this long, flowing gown and no shoes! She looked down at the delicate lace covering her legs and feet in disdain. Even on her least sensible days, she knew better than to go tromping through the brush and brambles without flip-flops on at least. <br /> She stopped walking and looked around. The moon was brighter than she had ever seen it before, low and glowing silver in the sky. She could see a narrow trail stretching through a grove of oak trees ahead of her; wooden boards were set into the dirt path like steps leading up. She hesitated. Where was she? She had never been here before, and a feeling in her stomach told her she was very far from home.<br /> (You know where to go. Just keep on following the path, mon cher.) She shivered. So she was hearing voices now? An incredibly charming, utterly convincing, undeniably male voice at that? She found herself moving towards the path, willingly pulled by some force she couldn’t identify . She climbed up the wooden steps, looking down almost absently as she felt the slight sting of a splinter lodging itself in her right foot. It didn’t matter - there was something wonderful at the top of that hill.<br /> She could see a glowing up ahead, like concentrated sunlight, golden and intense; she couldn’t look directly at it. But she caught the outline of things: a huge, majestic but oddly shaped tree; something whose shape gave the faint hint of gates; and a man, who she knew was staring directly at her, though she couldn’t see his face. It was his voice she had heard whispering across her mind, his voice she could hear now. (Take my hand.) The stranger extended his arm, palm up and towards her. (Take my hand and follow me, mon cher. Come back with me.) She almost did, almost reached out to clasp those mysterious fingers… when she remembered.<br /> What about Emma? Her steps faltered - she couldn‘t leave her mother behind. The thought was barely formed in her head when she was already turning away, leaving that mysterious stranger reaching for her, that welcoming glowing light pulsing at her back. She could feel him calling for her, but it was a frustrated sound without words. The shock of it radiated through her, and she stumbled, lost her footing, and fell headfirst down the hill. She closed her eyes, bracing herself as her stomach flew up into her throat and…<br /> …she woke up flinging her tangled limbs in a fit, pillows flung across the room and comforter nowhere to be seen. Faye’s eyes were opened wide as she panned her room frantically, looking for the silhouetted man. She could still feel him in her mind, could still feel that frustrated cry. But she didn’t see him anywhere, and slowly the paranoia faded - it was only a dream. As the panic inside her died down, exhaustion crept back in, till her eyes closed and her body relaxed. She faded off to sleep, thinking of that warm golden light and her irritated stranger. But when sleep came, no dreams followed.Kris n' Kelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15273239971556065096noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945662704039277179.post-40459113759503381962010-05-01T23:48:00.004-04:002010-05-02T00:45:07.755-04:00Kristen Nichole :)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMI-dcXK9p96hcO55fVL05DVY4kFi0XgwYUEPcvpCCBGG1DciQNj_QTFnkYBWZwkuNPHybqV5i4zJcPdAxsinkKv9J9DJWsX_O1mc02XB8qTuBKf16kZGTG_6uDNxV910f9Ezr-UoYLhU/s1600/14128_380761016558_593661558_3959089_7391666_n.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMI-dcXK9p96hcO55fVL05DVY4kFi0XgwYUEPcvpCCBGG1DciQNj_QTFnkYBWZwkuNPHybqV5i4zJcPdAxsinkKv9J9DJWsX_O1mc02XB8qTuBKf16kZGTG_6uDNxV910f9Ezr-UoYLhU/s320/14128_380761016558_593661558_3959089_7391666_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466529105644640946" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />Well everyone I am the second half of this crazy and slightly psychotic endeavor. Like my roommate I am an education major, but I want to work with kids in Middle School teaching Science and Social Studies. Unlike my friend, the English language hates me and, well, the feeling is mutual. However much we hate each other, English and I, I still love reading. My favorite books are young adult, fantasy, historical fiction, and science fiction, but I still love them all. My passion is photography, if taking pictures could make a real everyday living, I would be out and snapping pictures every day. But in the real world photography doesn’t pay bills, so I’m sticking with my second passion – education. <br />Hmm, so random stuff about me…well I am from a small town where the high school football team is practically worshipped. Both of my parents are police officers and I am the older of two girls. I like to stick out my tongue when taking pictures, it’s a habit. I like to knit and I am obsessed with playing the Sims. I love to travel and, hopefully one day I will get the opportunity, and I like to collect shot glasses from places I have been. My family and friends mean the world to me and I would not be who I am today without them. I’m a down to earth, crazy, loud, and sometimes sarcastic girl from the south. I try to live life to its fullest and enjoy every minute of it. Alright ladies and gents, enjoy the blog!Kris n' Kelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15273239971556065096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945662704039277179.post-69798783165106400202010-05-01T21:26:00.006-04:002010-05-03T03:00:28.151-04:00Kelsey Leigh<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaFEvn2win1GFmhkwHXFm7nUA6Lmpzng_pCvb-4VB4_NS0Dr_JesPKz_vs9jJ1obCMXyR8OhIcJBnP2w9vKsxB6V0rml_upN32NGu_6gAIBZh8GRhQbqTFs10A7uhi7Z9mwgwx_43XTGk/s1600/DSCN1346.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaFEvn2win1GFmhkwHXFm7nUA6Lmpzng_pCvb-4VB4_NS0Dr_JesPKz_vs9jJ1obCMXyR8OhIcJBnP2w9vKsxB6V0rml_upN32NGu_6gAIBZh8GRhQbqTFs10A7uhi7Z9mwgwx_43XTGk/s320/DSCN1346.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466492674650059058" /></a><br />Just thought I'd introduce myself... I'm an English Education major, and literature is one of my passions, as is teaching, among other things. I'm unstoppable, darlings. My favorite books are young adult and fantasy, but I love all books. <br />Now...my quirks...I love penguins. I have a small collection of them, though none are the real things, unfortunately. My second favorite bird is the flamingo. Because if you can't wear a tux, you might as well be pink. I love taking pictures. If I don't know something, I google it, or IMDB it. I have a tendency to make words verbs that are not originally verbs. I wrinkle up my nose when I am displeased. It's not a voluntary thing, it just kind of happens. I have a southern accent that only gets thicker if I'm over-excited or upset. I'm from a big family; my youngest sister AbbyDooZer is the monster of my heart. And my Marvin is the love of my life and the best thing that ever happened to me. And he better know that, for sure.<br />I can be sarcastic and snarky, but it's all with a good heart and a warm smile behind it. I like to think that I shine, metaphorically, anyway.Kris n' Kelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15273239971556065096noreply@blogger.com3