hm... are you gonna have some of the rpg characters that were in the rpg? Like maybe... Rena and Granit? lol! If it does end up with people taking a chosen egg and flying them across the country...

*hears dad come home, turns around and goes*Gah! My dad's hair used to be strait and now my dad got a perm! I bet when his hair dries his hair will be like Frodo's...

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(}--{)Imagination Inspires Ideas -Zandain(}--{)
Married Cloud Strife 9/17/08

That's interesting. I've never thought of it that way. Usually when I imagine scenes from a book, it's live except with the lines not so clearly drawn out. For example I'd see a character moving and interacting but his face remains a blur. I also tend to go with what the cover artist has drawn unless it's a terrible cover.

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I'd like to join this club! I love writing and am working on a few novels right now. Mostly fantasy. I've found I'm better at writing when I add magic to them.

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Oh yeah, totally. If that is ok with everyone. I can't wait until i get to the part where we started the flight.... *bounces on the edge of my chair*

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<center>

[font=Times New Roman]
Hello, I'm Amoniel
[/font]</center>

Is that RP dead? It was so much fun. Oh well. That's how things are.

I've been writing short stories lately. I get bored in physics, so I write. I've actually got some good stuff written down, like this poem

Who knows whats beyond the bend
Who knows where the river leads
Blinders on, the sun is set.
We cannot see what lies ahead
Hope for hope,
Dream for dreams.
Maybe you will take that path.
But until we reach our destined home
we will not know what is to come.

And the short story:
Bow drawn, arrow knocked, and knife sheaf comfortably snug against his thigh, Thane smiled grimly. He was set. Behind him he heard a crunch, the first warning of what was to come. He swiveled quickly and fired. A short rustle followed his shot, but nothing more. Had he missed? Perhaps he had hit it, but the beast didn't care. If it were the latter, he was in trouble. Thane inched forward, bow drawn, straining his sences for any sign of trouble. Again, behind him he heard a twig snap.He turned in time to see the animal lunge at him, his arrow in it's shoulder, turned just in time to fire an arrow. This one hit the beast in the throat, cutting both its scream and charge short. It teared at its throat, trying to remove the bolt with semi-human hands. It fell to the gorund, unable to cry out. Thane pulled another arrow from his quiver. It was a special one, long and sharp, made of pure silver. He knocked the arrow and shot the were-wolf in the heart.

Nice story. I like it! And the poem...wow!

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Heh. I actually changed my sig. Wow.

"I'll tell you truly: I value my thought and work terribly, but in essence - think about it - this whole world of ours is just a bit of mildew that grew over a tiny planet. And we think we can have something great - thoughts, deeds! They're all grains of sand." - Levin

Wow, Nauriel!!! Your poem is beautiful!! The short story is good, too. (--is there an applausing smiley??)

Here's a poem I wrote that I posted in the fanfic/poetry section, but I thought I'd post it here as well and hear what other writers think of it.

Among the glade
In forest deep
The moonlit earth
Its song did keep.

And shadowy light
Lay scattered there
Upon the floor
Of the forest bare.

Woven rays
Throughout the trees
Did cast their gleam
In faintest breeze.

What eyes behold
This dreamlike night?
What tears are shed
In silent sight?

Those who mourn
For times yet past
For times at hand
For times to last.

Heh-heh-heh. *runs*

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"The value of the myth is that it takes all the things we know and restores to them the rich significance which has been hidden by the veil of familiarity" ~ CS Lewis

I wrote a story the other day, based on some experiences in my childhood. if you read and review, I'll give you cookies.

http://www.fictionpress.com/s/2234682/1/

Aldawen, GREAT poem! *claps* Lovely flow and meter, and the last stanza ended it perfectly! Lovely.

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"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

question, I really can't decide.

does Prince Rouki Keagan sound better, or Prince Rouku Keagan?

((Rou is pronounced like Ru or Roo. ))

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<center>“Envy consists in seeing things never in themselves, but only in their relations. If you desire glory, you may envy Napoleon, but Napoleon envied Caesar, Caesar envied Alexander, and Alexander, I daresay, envied Hercules, who never existed.”
at one point, I was alejandrah.

I vote Rouki. Classier. Funner to say. Whee.

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<center>
"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

lol! Well... Rouki was the first idea... (Ok... so he was supposed to be Rouru first...) I wasn't exactly going for funny, but I really like both names tons.

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<center>“Envy consists in seeing things never in themselves, but only in their relations. If you desire glory, you may envy Napoleon, but Napoleon envied Caesar, Caesar envied Alexander, and Alexander, I daresay, envied Hercules, who never existed.”
at one point, I was alejandrah.

may I join? I love writting. I am writting a book called The Knights, it has 364 pages that are hand written

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One ring to rule them all,
One ring to find them all
One ring to bring them all
and in the darkness bind them all

Thats nothing to be ashamed about! Most writers start out writing their stories on paper then type it later! I wrote a short story (hand written) about a singing cat when I was 7!

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(}--{)Imagination Inspires Ideas -Zandain(}--{)
Married Cloud Strife 9/17/08

When I was seven I wrote a story about living cupcakes. Now that is something to be ashamed about.

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Heh. I actually changed my sig. Wow.

"I'll tell you truly: I value my thought and work terribly, but in essence - think about it - this whole world of ours is just a bit of mildew that grew over a tiny planet. And we think we can have something great - thoughts, deeds! They're all grains of sand." - Levin

LOL! No it's not! Don't be ashamed of anything you write, no matter how stupid.

My sister and I wrote "The Texas Chronicles" when we were 6 and 8, she did the illustrations and I the writing. Very primitive. Rather dumb. But hey, it was a beginning of something!

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<center>
"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

hey, this is the start of a story from a few years ago I'm thinking of picking back up; please tell me what you think.

- - - - -

He wasn’t here again. She had really hoped that he would come for once, but she had hoped in vain. Nervously Teagan Simonds scanned the crowd again, desperately searching for her father, Brent Simonds. Teagan concluded he hadn’t come again. She squinted her eyes in the sun, her baseball hat wasn’t helping to much, and started to practice her swing again. Teagan was decked out in gray ball pants, royal blue socks, black cleats, and her team jersey and hat; they were the cubs, hence the blue.

Just after her fifth or sixth swing, Coach Smith called her over to home plate. It was her turn to bat. Stepping up to the right-handed side of the plate, Teagan took her stance like she was a pro ready to hit one out of the park.

Smack!

There came the dull thud of the first ball thrown by the Coach smacking into the catcher’s mitt. Teagan could vaguely hear her mom in the stands yelling something, but she couldn’t quite make it out. The young girl stepped out of the box for a moment, then quickly stepped back in, determination obvious on her face.

“C’mon Teagan!” her twin brother, Tyler, called from the dugout.

“Yeah! You can do it!” his best friend, Hunter, yelled after Tyler was done.

Smiling, Teagan turned back around to face Coach Smith, who was pitching. She watched the red-laced ball with intensity as it left the Coach’s hands. Time itself seemed to slow down for the moment as the ball spun steadily closer. Teagan swung.

Smack!

Instead of the dull thud of the catcher’s mitt, the sharp crack of the aluminum bat striking the ball rang through the air. The ball itself flew out somewhere in left field. Way in left field. Teagan was so busy watching it fly she didn’t notice Coach Smith screaming at her to run.

Six year old Teagan Simonds had hit the first and only homerun of that T-ball season.

And her dad wasn’t there to watch it.

- - - - -

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<center>“Envy consists in seeing things never in themselves, but only in their relations. If you desire glory, you may envy Napoleon, but Napoleon envied Caesar, Caesar envied Alexander, and Alexander, I daresay, envied Hercules, who never existed.”
at one point, I was alejandrah.