A little story fragment.

Clarey Kensington, a bright seventeen year old girl from Minnesota, stood on the front porch of the so-called Tennessee Timberwell Boarding  School.  She held her hand to her eyes as a shade from the sun, and looked up at the strange decor that stood vigil above the entrance.  A welded iron circle here, a trident there.

Her Lexus CT was parked crookedly on the dirt driveway.  She should have gotten gas fifteen miles ago, when she saw her tank was low.  Now she was trapped, unless she could find some way to get fuel.  Hers appeared to be the only car at the residence.

“Is this where I’m supposed to be?”  She frowned in confusion, but knocked on the door.  It was a small wooden house, and the only indication that this was the right place was a rusted sign that hung on a long stake by the road.  The place reminded her of ashes from a campfire. Her frown turned to a polite smile as an old woman opened the dark wooden door.  The old woman peered at her with dark brown eyes.

“Little lovely, what’s your name?”  She said, and spoke to someone in the house:  “Harold, a girl is here!”  Her voice was the color of warm brass and thick with accent.

“I’m, uh, Clarey,” the northern girl managed. “Is this Timberwell?”

“Sure is.  Oh honey, it’s swelterin’ out there.  Won’t you come in?” The woman asked.

Clarey accepted and followed to the kitchen, where she sat down on one of two metal chairs in the same fashion as the decor outside.  “What’s your name, miss?”  She inquired.

The old woman laughed and said, “It’s been a while since anyone’s called me that, but I like it.  You can call me Miss Maisie.”

Maisie…  The name was nice, like a wheat field in September.




I run through the newly fallen snow.

My heart beats heavy in my chest.

I hear a loud thump.  Freeze.  Don’t even breathe.

The cold air is sharp in my lungs.

The forest is still.

I take a risk.  Move.  Turn my head.

It was only the snow from the branches of a tree.

Run.  Faster.  Exhaustion soon.

Lights in the distance.  Village.

I’m not going to be caught.  Turn.

Begin to run.  Wait.

I left it there.

I run back.  Move snow.  Eventually, move dirt.

Dig…  Quickly.  I hear them.

Silently making their ways through.

I am the Wolf.


Today is the first snow.  I was compelled to write.


2.6 or The Association

Yes.  I’m posting again.  I write everything on my blog myself, except for if it says not.  Here we go again!  Another story…  You won’t read it, but yeah.


I live in a world where there is no in between, no black and white. No grey area. Everyone must master perfection. Or else, be recycled. There are the model citizens, and the unwanted.  At the age of thirteen we are tested to see which category we fall into.  What happens to the unwanted? No one really knows. They are sent away by the leaders to be recycled. I am frightened. Up until this point everything has always premeditated. They have always known.  These are my people. Wait for me, I tell them. Wait for me.

Chapter 1 : Hazard

“Wake up!” I feel hands on my shoulders. I want desperately to slip back into the folds of sleep. Then some part of me remembers. Association day.  Could that already be today? Charlotte pulls back the covers. The air inside the house is freezing. The middle of January. I hate the cold weather. “If you don’t hurry up, you’ll be late!” Somehow, I feel, unexplainably, numb. “All right, all right. Be up in five minutes.” I say. “You better be.” She makes sure I’m out of bed, then leaves me to dress and prepare for the day. I wish it wasn’t today.  A shiver runs up my spine when I think of the D- I brought home two weeks ago. The teaching attendant said that when I took my association test, all of my grades for the past thirteen years would take a great part. As I dress in the expected, hair pinned back with bobby pins,  and slip the ruffled floor length dress over my head, I think of Charlotte’s association, only 2 years earlier. She had been scared, too. Like me.
“Rose?” I hear from the other room. “You haven’t forgotten about today, have you?” My father. He was a tailor, as placed on his 18th passage. ”No, Dad.” I call down the hall. As I open my door, I see him.  Suit and tie. He had even straightened his curly hair. This came as a little bit of a surprise, since he had not done that since, well, since before me. “You look good.” He says, and his eyes widen a little bit. “I don’t feel that way.” I say with a grimace. “I’ve never worn heels before.” He laughs. “ You’ll do great! I know you will.” I have to. My mother comes down the now crowded hallway, with my sister. “Darling, you look wonderful.” She says.
When we’re in the car, I lean toward Charlotte. “What will happen?“ I say. I hear they draw blood. “I’m scared.“ “Oh, it’s nothing to be worried about.” She says, with a small bit of annoyance flickering in her eyes, for this is not the first time I have asked. “They just call your name, prick your finger, ask you questions, and look at your present state of health.“ Charlotte looks unconcerned. “If you fit the bill, which I’m sure you do, they announce you a model citizen. Then they give you new clothes and undergarments,” She studies me for a moment, then looks away. ”and then you leave the stage.” She hesitates, and keeps her eyes fixed on the floorboards.  “I was sworn not to tell of the last part.” This appalls me. In that instant, my mind conjures up all of the horrible possibilities, then settles on a disturbingly distinct one.
My mother sighs. So she has been listening to our conversation. “Charlotte, Why must you over-complicate things?” What could she mean? ”I was only being truthful…” My sister trails off. ”What does she mean?” I say to my sister. She talks quick, and low, so that our mother and father cannot hear. “When they take you in the backroom, you read a list of rules, and you must abide by them. They are different for each person, and so are the punishments for breaking them. There are warnings, and other things. You cannot tell anyone what you see.” Her words hang in the air. Why, I wonder. Why?
When we get to the Eagle building, I feel the jitters coming back. Apparently so does my mother because she says “Don’t worry. We can go home soon.” A group of other girls my age are close by. Most are talking, laughing. But there are those few that have solemn faces, trembling just the slightest bit. My mother tells me to go to them, and I do. It is when I am there, however, when the noise dies down. We enter the auditorium where the passages and associations are done. As we stand with our group, whispered truths and lies make their way through the crowd. “They cut off limbs?” One girl asks another. “No, but they do implant a microchip.” What? That’s crazy. They just prick your finger.” “How do you know whats in that needle?! They aren’t allowed to tell us! ” “I heard it from a sympathetic Associator.” “I hear they take brain samples.” All of a sudden, a girl in a cricket green dress next to me starts to cough, and whimpers that she feels nauseated and cannot see clearly; Preassociational illnesses like this are never a good sign. Even though it’s against the rules to do this, I take my jacket from my bag, and wrap it around her. She stops shivering, and bends her knees to crouch in the space that we have. She looks up at me. “Thank you.” What she says next shocks me. “But I probably won’t be around here much longer.” “Don’t say that! Of course you will.” She stands up and hands me my jacket back. She still does not look well. “Goodbye, Roslia.” She moves away from me. How did she know my name? What was hers? This is just getting weirder by the second, I thought.
Interrupting my thoughts, I see a boy from the opposite side of the auditorium catch my eye. He does not look away. I am struck by his appearance, dark green eyes, short, spiked, black hair. He mouthes a word I can’t understand from this distance; It must be 40 feet across.  He must realize that I can’t understand him because he looks down and swears. What is he doing? We aren’t allowed to talk until after our association. Should I call him out on it? That was normal producure. He looks at me again, and puts a finger to his lips, a motion for me to be quiet.
Up on stage, they start the speech. “To this day, our fathers, and forefathers have gone through the processes of passage and association,  for a purity of society.  It is so important and crucial not to overpopulate, especially with those unfit.  We already have limited resources.  Our ancestors took so much from this planet…“ They go through the rest, although my mind is somewhere else. Who was that girl? That boy? How did she know my name? What did he say? A million more thoughts at once run through my head, but they stop when I realize the speech has ended.


The Middle

I walked briskly through the night.  All my expectations had been dashed.  The stillness of the air around me highlighted the pounding of my heart.  I could feel the tears staining my cheeks.  My hair still pulled back, unabashedly showing my face.  If anything came too close to me, I would kill it. I was almost wishing some unfortunate being would cross my path, here in the moonlight of this darkened wood.  Cutting my thoughts short, I heard a sickening crunch beside me.  I whipped around, perhaps I’d get my wish.  A lean, grey, she-wolf stood there, watching me walk closer.  Judging by her size, I could take her down.    The wolf looked surprised in the few moments before I had her leg in my grip.  She turned angrily, knocking me on my back.  I screamed and she took a hit to the nose.  She bit me again.   Why did this miserable animal exist?  Minutes later, the wolf had her jaws around my face.  If I moved, she would kill me.  All my muscles tensed, I didn’t dare gasp for breath.  I felt her teeth biting down on me harder.  I was bleeding.  Instinct kicked in, and I used all of my strength to rip away from her.  Various spots on my face exploded with pain.  I got to my feet, all aspects of the earlier catastrophe forgotten.  The wolf, instead of lunging, turned and ran into the darkness.  I just looked down at the piling leaves upon the ground.  I fell to my knees with the memories that were flooding back.  The dinner.  All those people.  The complete sureness radiating from my parents and I.  The lights dimming.  The card-reading woman speaking.  We knew what it was supposed to be, of course.  We’d written it ourselves!  I remember laughing at the thought.  Thinking they were so stupid.  That we could re-write it and not even have them notice.  But when the card-reading woman opened the envelope determining who would continue the reign, my parents or a different successor, it wasn’t like they’d written.  We’d lost the throne.  Papa broke his glass when she read the name from the card.  All of a sudden, we were nothing.  The guards came in.  ”Escorts” they said, “Nothing to worry about,” they said.  I just ran.  I wonder what they’re saying now!  Now, when they can no longer blackmail the card-writers…  A dark thought came into my head.  One probably true.  The card-writers have undoubtedly let out how we’ve been in reign for so long.  Revenge is theirs.  I crumple into a ball.   I realize I’ve started to cry gentle tears.  I wipe them from my face and stand.  I can’t go back, I think.  Besides, I’m lost.  Lost in the woods.  Like in the old stories.  One in particular settles in my mind.  An heiress, lost far away in a thick forest.  She’s then trapped in a tower, where she falls to sleep and shall never awaken…  I don’t remember how the rest goes, but it doesn’t matter.  I am not an heiress anymore…..  I can’t go back, they’ll execute me.  I’m guilty by association…

The realization dawns.  I have to run.

And so I do.  I am very grateful for the fact I did not choose a dress to wear for the dinner as I tear through the trees away from the palace.  East.  Hours later, my muscles tired and sore, I can see the light beginning to come back.  Again, the snatches of overheard stories running through my head.  They say if you run East long enough, you’ll reach the Glowing Mountain of the Gods.  Do I believe the stories?  I can’t decide.  The Glowing Mountain is undeniably real.  You can see it in the sky as it passes over each day.  But to run long enough to catch it?


I know it’s a cliffhanger…

But hey, what do you think happens next?  Where does she go?  What happens?  …Could she ever reach the Glowing Mountain?

Tell me what you think?  Please?

~ Mousepaw:)

Autumn Winds

A girl sat alone on the bench outside of her house.  Falling leaves littered the ground around her all different colours.  She was thinking of the boy.  The boy.  The boy.  Her boy, she supposed.  Oh what a beautiful day, she thought as the crisp winds ruffled through her hair.  Auburn silk.  She almost laughed aloud.  No, her hair wasn’t that pretty.  She didn’t care, though.  She walked barefoot from the bench, feet crunching in the leaves.  I wish he was here.  She sighed, and wrapped her scarf tighter around herself.  Continuing walking, she looked up.  The sky was grey like something she’d never seen.  The clouds rolled through, pushed along by the north wind.  She felt a tap on her shoulder.  She looked up, surprised.  No one was there.  How odd, she thought.  She walked quicker now, not wanting to waste time.  Then she felt a whisper ever so slight from the trunk of the fallen tree.  That great oak had stood for nearly a century, then in early spring years ago, a great gust of wind had torn it up at the roots.  Too big for anyone to move it, and too remote in the woods for anyone to care, the tree lay there, slowly intermingling with the earth.  She looked inside of the trunk.  A light was springing from the very center inside of it.  She was shocked, naturally, but also unnervingly curious as to it’s source.  She took off her scarf and jacket, leaving her in simply denim summer shorts and a deep blue sweater.  She laid her scarf and jacket on the ground carefully avoiding mud, and crawled inside the trunk.  She spied numerous spiders spinning webs as blankets for the coming winter.  Even a small creature sleeping.  She wiggled past so cautiously as to not disturb anything.  When she was almost to the middle of the hollow log, the ground started to shake.  Something pulled her out of the fallen tree.  The ground stopped shaking.  The forest was still again.  She brushed decomposing insects off, and tried again to reach the elusive unexplained light source.  she was almost there again, when this time she heard rushing water.  The trunk of the tree was going to flood.  She had to get out.  She was stuck on something.  She couldn’t move.  A wave of water came through the great tree, filling her mouth, eyes, and nose.  She was pushed out along with the creek water.  All wet, she looked down at her feet.  They were cold now, a bluish shade.  She could still feel them though, and when she bent down again to look in the hollow log, the water was gone and the light was still there.  Everything was dry inside the fallen oak.  She looked down, surprised.  Even she was dry, once she stepped inside the trunk.  She couldn’t stand up, so she crawled.  Again, she was almost to the glowing spot.  A wind reminiscent of the one that had knocked the tree down thundered through the hollow wood.  She tried to hold on and almost succeeded, but alas, the wind blew the girl right out.  Ok, she thought.  How many times can I not succeed?  She, again, bent down and crawled through.  Quicker this time, then the others.  She could see the light source.  It was coming from the ground underneath the log.  The tree grew warmer as she got closer to the light.  She slowed down.  Everything seemed to hold it’s breath.  Then the light exploded outwards.  She shot out of the fallen tree’s trunk, back into the cold autumn air outside.  She hit her head against a standing tree.  Everything faded away.  She woke up, hours later, her scarf and jacket back on.  She was covered in leaves.  It was dark.  She stood up, holding her aching skull with both hands.  The temperature had dropped at least twenty degrees.  She remembered idly that the weather report had stated that tonight was the first freeze.  She crawled one more time back inside the great fallen oak.  This time she didn’t go far.  She didn’t try to obtain the light source.  She stopped when she was just sheltered from the wind.  Something was definitely off about this tree.  Somehow the fallen tree was growing warmer again.  Her eyes snapped open.  Three raccoons had scampered inside of the log.  The were sleeping around the light.  She smiled.  Almost like a campfire, she thought.  Oh, if  her boy could see this,  he would laugh.  He would even try and take one of them home as a pet.  He wouldn’t be successful in the endeavour, of course, and he would most likely end up with a face full of teeth marks, a trip to the emergency room and numerous rabies and tetanus shots, but the danger of that would far from stop him from trying.  The light was constant, so it wasn’t a fire, but it was warm like one.  She edged closer, trying to stay warm, but at the same time trying not to awaken the critters or disturb the light.  She was reaching forward to warm a hand when suddenly a raccoon’s eye snapped open.  She stopped, and remained motionless.  They watched each other with great interest.  Much to her surprise, the one awakened raccoon sniffed her hand and moved over from the light to let her closer.  For the first time, she truly saw what it was.  She couldn’t believe it!  A tiny floating daisy, perfect as when it first bloomed, encased in a glowing shrine of light.  It gave off warmth like eternal spring.  A tiny, beautiful, bewitching, figure stepped out of the daisy.  Nothing like you see in stories.  Wild, tangled, hair that fell past her hips, pointed, devilish, features, and a voice like thunderstorms and wildfires and a calming ocean and a warm breeze through a woodland.  It spoke to her in a way like a grandmother’s last words and baby’s first breath.  She fell asleep without meaning to, there, inside of the fallen tree, with the creatures and raccoons and smell of sunshine.  The next morning she awoke in bed in what she was wearing the night before.  A text from the boy was on her phone.  When she reached out to grab it from the table beside her bed, something fell out of her hand.  Old, rolled up parchment, upon further inspection.  Inside, in smallest font, this was written:

Think what you will.

We protect what is real.

We give you this gift of knowledge.

Treasure it well.

She shook her head to clear it, and remembered everything.



The End!  Hope you liked my story.  Tell me what you think in the comments below.  :)  Sorry for any grammar mistakes.


~ Mousepaw

2: A Few Bits Of Background Before This Story Continues…

Hi!  It’s me again, back with another chapter.  I hoped you liked the last one.  :)


2 : a few bits of background before this story continues…


Nearing fall, the community was abundantly full of the products of the harvest. A year’s nonstop and incessant care and tending was paying off.  The village was basically beautiful hamlets over carefully tended fields surrounded by Jungle.  Overall, the feeling was wonderfully opulentSave the dreary air about the peoples of this perfect village. What was there to be afraid of or even sad about at a time like this? What could possibly be the matter at all?  Nobody talked about them…  The ravenous, somber, beasts that inhabited the darkest and most inscrutable parts of the myriad of trees stretching out from all sides of the majestic mountains. Those flitting beasts that you didn’t see. That you didn’t hear. That you only felt. At their most benign, they were ostentatious little creatures, who would pinch horrible little pinches, and made objects so displaced that it would be an eccentric waste of time and energy to retrieve them. They took away everything that was not needed. Everything.. Everyone, too. They used everything that was not put to use by they’re surroundings. One might be horrified by such an atrocity, but they were a part of life for the people of the Jungle.


lol,  I was feeling a little morbid when I wrote this.

By the way, the words in bold are spelling words that I’m sneaking into my posts.  :P



The First Chapter To A Story In Which Amazing And Unexpected Things Happen.


Tatiana (As a newborn, crawled out of the jungle. Adopted by the whole community.)


Xavier (About 14)


King Iso (Ruled as long as anybody can remember.)


Saha (Healer.)


Raul (pronounced Ra U l)



1: the first chapter in a story in which amazing and unexpected things happen.


Xavier took the knife boldly in one hand as he mutely cut the first stroke. His thoughts consisted of this: At some point, this will be a fish-looking thing, maybe… This blasted wood is impenetrable! The knife obviously wasn’t cutting. “I have gotten a piece of steel, sharpened it, twice, and fitted it a handle, and for what? I can’t believe I did all that in vain! I mustassert myself over this stupid chunk of wood.” He grumbled to himself. “Whatcha doing?” A voice behind him questioned. Xavier turned to see Tatiana sitting on a tree stump, looking at him utterly un-oppressively.Trying to carve a fish out of an inexplicably hard wood, with an extremely dull knife. You?” He replied. “Watching a boy try to make a piece of a very old oak look something like a fish, while he tries to carve it with the wrong side of a knife that is the wrong shape and metal for the wood.” She cast a glance at him out of the corner of her eye. A sarcastic smile played on his lips. “Ok, fine then. Got something better?” She raised her eyebrows furtively. “Surely you know me, don’t you?” She took a gorgeous blade out of her leather satchel. “Give me that,” She said. The knife slid through the wood, crafting a perfect ridge with hardly any effort. “Geez,” Xavier said, “I’d ask how you knew all that, but I know you wouldn’t tell me.” She laughed, and said, “Don’t be so hard on yourself, I’m an amazing oddity, that’s how I learned.” Then, without warning, Tatiana’s eyes went wide. She screamed. Then, dropping the knife, ran. “Crazy girl.” Xavier said, and went back to his newly evaluated carving. Clouds showed an impending storm, he noted. He finished carving the wood quickly with Tatiana’s knife. Xavier turned to head back.

He saw it, but never heard it. Something not quite human.

Yes, he tried to run.


Thought of his family.


Cries for help.

Cut short.



So… Yeah! :D  I’ll post more of my story later.


~Mousepaw  ;)

Dogs : A True Essay

Once upon a time, there was a family.  The family consisted of 1 mom, 1 dad,  1 son, 1 daughter, 9 chickens, and 3 dogs (Vida, Panda, and Sampson), and 1 cat.  One day the son and daughter, whom I will call Fish and Mousepaw, found two poor little skin and bones stray dogs, a girl and a boy.  They were a week, tops, from the end.  Fish and Mousepaw fed the dogs, oh so carefully, dog food and cream cheese.

The next day, Mousepaw woke up, and the brown boy dog had been adopted by the neighbors!  Now that one dog had a home, there was just the black and white girl dog (Who bore an uncanny resemblance to Panda, by the way.) that was stray.

The family took her in and gave her food and water and love and shelter in the doghouse.  The black and white girl dog (who had been inexplicably named Anastasia) was still scary thin, but she had been getting better…  Anastasia had been eating a lot of dog food. The dad and mom wanted to find her a new home. Mousepaw and Fish felt that Anastasia was not healthy enough to rehomed.

But at how much that black and white dog was eating, it was expensive to keep her.  Mousepaw found out that she could put a PayPal button on her blog, and if people wanted to, they could click on it to donate to help!

The bottom line: It was expensive, but the dog was very sick.

These are pictures of Anastasia:

She really is the most darling puppy.

~ Mousepaw

Werewolves are cool.


Yep. What the title says.


Cool book series::: Obsessing.



Yeaaahh……… I know………………… -.- zzz……………………just bored. haven’t posted in a while………………………


Shiver, Linger, Forever


Equal to the hunger games in awesomeness.


This started out as a very focused post.  Now my mind wandered away… :)


Maggie stiefvater wrote the wonderful series known as the Wolves of Mercy Falls.












Another Story…

I am writing another story for school. This time it really is a story, not just a poem. It’s told in first person speech. I won’t give you anymore spoilers, so here it is:

Creative Writing 6.0
Journal of Thorn

I still remember the night that it it first happened. My father, my mother and I had sat down to dinner when I heard something. It sounded like a stifled cry of an infant child. My father went to see what was the matter. A neighbor’s house had caught on fire he went over there and wrenched the door open as the flames licked the house only to find that everyone had fled. Or had they?
There was some thing burned into the floor. It was an open eye inside a circle but it had no pupil. I did not know it at the time but that was the Shadowman’s symbol. It was the most terrifying thing I had ever seen. I was 7 years old at the time. That was the first of many attacks on Zeltoria. It has been 10 years and I still remember it like it was yesterday.
* * *
I am now apprentice to Ben Parrow, the town’s iron-smith. I have been his apprentice for 12 months now, and we are good friends. In fact he taught me everything I know.
I have only recently found out more in-depth details about the attack. Ben says that a guy called “Shadowman” arranges attacks for guards to carry out. It is dangerous to even cross the street during the day. There are guards at every corner, if you are caught without an ID but have a permit you will be chained to a tree for 3 days straight. And if you have no permit and no ID you will be sent straight to prison, charged with everything you could think of. Everyday more attacks are carried out. But then this happened:
My father took me aside and said these words.

“I have something to tell you, Thorn. It’s time you knew.” I was very curious of what he had to say. “I am King Edmonton.” The words echoed in my head. “And your mother is Queen Leona. We have been in hiding for the past 14 years.” I am thinking What? This is impossible! But, not wanting to be rude, I said: “Wait. Than who am I?” The thoughts are whirling in my head like wild horses. “You, son, are Prince Thoran.” “We kept this from you to keep you safe.” I was speechless, I did not know how to react. The very man I idolized, pitied, The very guy who I wished I could be for so many years. “This is impossible. You must have made a mistake.” I said bewildered. But the look I saw on my father’s face told me he was true.
“So what about Ben? Is he really Ben Parrow?” I asked. “Well actually, His name is Benjamin Rochester. And he’s your personal body guard.” “So what your telling me is that were all royalty??” He chuckled warmly.  Then he said, “I supposed you could put it that way.”
* * *
I see things differently now. Shadowman must be stopped at all costs. He is destroying us. As it turns out I am not the only one who sees things this way; Benjamin, My father, my mother and the members of the Oak Tree Union all share the same views. Oak tree is a place where people who want to rebel against the Shadowman go to talk freely and think out plans and strategies for defeating him. They have chosen me to go and find him, fight him and end his reign of terror. To name a few recent offenses:
Last week his guards “commandeered” all of our food in the cellar, They “escorted” me to the market when I was going to buy meat and “taxed” me 20 bronze zuts for buying it at the market. These things are the least of their crimes. That’s why I am going to defeat the Shadowman.
I already have a map that Ben made for me. He says he wants to come, he also says its not safe. I’m going to let him come. He might actually be of help.
* * *
We have been traveling for 10 days now and are just nearing the Devil’s Pass. No new sign of trouble. Had to hide from patrolling guards twice today. Paper is expensive nowadays, I was lucky to have come across this bit.
* * *

Traded with Eugene, got 2 Housumps to ride on for 10 silver rines each. Now traveling 3 times what we would on foot. Reached Darkened valley.  Barely navigated through bog. Almost lost a housump. Found a peddler on outskirts of bog. Traded 5 rines for food. Found frozen over spring; camping out.
* * *
Water from spring had odd effect on Ben and I. Made us sleep instantly, could be used as weapon. 2 days away from Shadowman’s castle. Housumps do not like area where we are camping. We will have to tie them up to make sure they don’t run away. Need food.
* * *
After camping out cleaned up campsite, walked about a half mile, found Apzie tree bearing fruit. Ben found frozen deer in snowstorm. Salvaged edible meat. Melted snow in cup over campfire. Had good meal.
Walked and rode all night. Slept during day. Housumps are tired. Have food, water, and am in hiding.
Took 2 patrolling guards by surprise. Stole their armor. Tossed them into river. Now masquerading as guards on the inside of Shadowman castle. Camping near Darkened valley. Observing and waiting for the right moment to strike.
* * *

Today we advanced. First we went inside of the castle and we came to the heart of it to “report” to the Shadowman. Then we tied him up with iron chains. An alarm sounded and we had to defend ourselves from at least 200 pairs of delicate but evasive guards. Ben knocked out Shadowman with a rock lying on the ground while I created a diversion so that we could escape, but all of the guards melted into dust as soon as Shadowman was knocked out. They were created from his mind. As soon as that happened the roof started to cave in and walls started to disappear. The whole castle was a figment of his imagination… But not everything inside of it was. I was standing on a pile of gold coins as big as me! We took the gold and put it into sacks to carry home and took some food from what used to be the kitchen for our journey back home.
All of this was well worthwhile. We are returning home as heroes. Shadowman is defeated and will be imprisoned for life.
* * *
I am home and once again Prince Thoran. We are all happy and well. Ben is now an honorary knight and he has earned a gold medal for his excellent service. This is the last time I will write.


From your friend, Mousepaw
Wow, I’m wordy.

By the way, #1. I wrote this in “WordPad” and #2. The dates that I used in this story are completely coincidental and #3. Pinterest.com is awesome.