Story I Just Wrote

[Beilana]

Woohoo! Awesome Ratzy. One of my fav paragraphs so far
The air outside was not as good as the crisp, clear air of the wilderness. Not pure. Pollution, toxic waste mingled with what could have been fresh. Although I couldn’t see them, I could almost feel the fumes sneaking up behind me, choking me, tightening upon my throat. A disturbing thought. The garden, if it could be called that, was fairly boring to look at. Fake grass, which, at first, had caught my attention, was so obviously fake that I laughed, aloud. Plants that were restricted in growth, puny rose bushes tied to posts. A clean bird bath stood in the middle of the grass, but it was one that no respectable bird would ever find themselves looking at, let alone bathe in.

Very interesting and well writting Quite the imagination you have!

 

[Ratzy]

Thanks Beilana
Now I have to write the next bit, which I have ideas for ( the plot isn't written down on paper, though I know the ending and what's going to happen next ).


A bit more.

“Amber, I want you to wash your face and hands, and report to the kitchen for duty. After you are finished running errands for the cook, you go up to the nursery and get the children into bed.”
I figured the quicker I did everything, the quicker I’d be able to sneak a peek inside the cage.
Not so.
By the time the cook had finished with me, it was already dark outside. I hauled myself upstairs to the nursery.
There were three children, one about three years old, one about eight, and the eldest was around ten or eleven. The two youngest were having a tug-of-war over a teddy, while the elder was merely reading some fascinating novel.
“Get into bed and there won’t be any fuss,” I mind spoke quietly, but firmly. The effect was instantaneous; the book was dropped to the floor and the teddy bear lay forgotten on the wooden floor panels.
“Or you’ll do what?” sneered the eldest.
“Look,” I thought pointedly, “your mother... at least I assume that nasty women is your mother... ordered me to put you to bed. Now, if it were a matter of me being thrown out helpless onto the street,” I sniggered, “I wouldn’t. But, as it is probably a matter of me being physically punished, I will. So, I repeat, get into bed, or there will be trouble.”
“Make us.”
I pulled my hidden dagger from my waist. I had stowed it from my former rags into the prison clothes I was forced to wear. It gleamed in the flickering firelight and the children took a gasp and hastily dove beneath the covers.