I've written some very wierd stories in my time. All of my funny ones stem from conversations I've had with my friends. There have been living gingerbread, Lord of the flies parody, my friend growing both a tail and gills....its some wierd stuff.

My strangest story was only a drabble, but it was entiled "The A.C. Monkey"

If I ever find the gum wrapper it's written on, (which is in a scrap book somewhere!), I'll post it up.

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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've written a LOT of weird stories. Just look at the cupcake one.

My friend and I started to write a story awhile ago called "Wonk: TSOAYB". The last part stands for "The Story of a Young Boy." I would put a general story line up but it was rather violent. (In the end everyone...erm...doesn't survive...) We were also going to write a prequel to Wonk called "Lola goes to Dumboland", because Lola was this kinda insane person in Wonk.

Yeah, we were a little hyper.

Then there was a story I wrote for a test in grade five about this kid who has to save the world from Dr. Marshmallow and his giant Marshmallow Man. Don't ask; I couldn't think of a better idea. (The really weird thing about that one is I got a good mark on the test ).

What else...what else...

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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

I've written one very strange story-The True Story of the Gingerbread Man. lol I have some ideas for fractured fairy tales, but I haven't gotten around to writing most of them. lol
Usually I write serious stuff, though. Rather Steinbeckian. lol Lots of people die in my stories.

My most serious story I ever wrote was only three chapters long. It was about a boy named Anderson dealing with his father commiting suicide.

When I reread it myself as the reader, it shocked me to see how heavy it was. I sort of swore to myself never to write anything quite like it again.

I was sort of scared how much my ability to relay emotions and feelings had grown over the years. It scares me when my writing skills improve, because then you know that when, and if, you write the proper words, that your stories could have more impact in a life then all the words you ever speak.

That frightens me to no end.

If you look closely at all of my real stories, not the stupid ones, I litter much deeper and profound thoughts into almost childlike fiction, much like C.S. Lewis and Tolkien.

The there was the story of the A.C. Money, which had no meaning and never will.

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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 love that feeling! Like as you grow up, you begin to feel different things and so do your characters.

I've been branching out and trying to write in different genres, like romance and mystery. Things I've never tried before.

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Made by Meganelf



Made 1000 posts on 7/22/06!!!!!!!!!

Gingerbread? Read this! It was inspired by someones avvie here. It said "Gingerbread men: tasty holiday tradition or childhood segway into canabalism?" Then my friends and I took it a bit far and made up the life of wild gingerbread men.

Emmie skipped along the sunlit path, humming cheerfully to herself. She smiled as the sun caressed her rosy cheeks. Finally, she came to the ravine. Now this ravine was not like ravines in other stories, in which they are all dark and spooky. This ravine was actually quite pleasant, for it had a little brook that ran through it, babbling merrily. She leapt across for the 1000th time (it was in fact the 1000th time; Emmie had kept a very accurate record). She landed daintily on the other side, and continued to traipse among the many colored wild flowers that dotted the open meadow.

Emmie stopped as she spotted a little rabbit eating her midday meal.

“Hello Mrs. Flufftail!” she called gaily. “How is the grass today?” Mrs. Flufftail (or so Emmie called her. She seemed to like the name.) came over and cuddled against her leg. She stooped down and patted her on the head. Now you may think that rabbits are timid animals that don’t like humans, but Emmie was different. All the animals loved her. In fact, she was loved by all. She laughed just to laugh, and at the wonderful noise plants of all sorts burst forth into bloom. She shook her hair out of her face, and her hair caught the rays of the sun, and it shone with radiant light.

The day was perfect, her life was perfect, and most of all, she was perfect.

Emmie walked on, farther than she had ever gone before, which was a long ways. She came across a large coursing river. He chortled at Emmie in his own river language. Emmie smiled back, a smile so lively and friendly that light almost burst forth from that mouth.

“Mr. River!” she said “I am going to cross you now.” She waltzed over to a line of rocks that dotted the river from one bank to the next. Emmie hopped happily from one stone to the next, and in quite a short time she was almost to the other side. But what Emmie didn’t notice was the small covering of algae on one of the rocks. Algae were small, and often ignored. They didn’t like that. Emmie didn’t even say hello. So as soon as Emmie put down her foot on their rock, they tripped her, and she fell into the river. At once Emmie knew what she did wrong.

“I am sorry Rockclingers!” She wailed.

The algae were so full of regret that they died on the spot.

As so it came to pass that Emmie was washed down the river. Mr. River wouldn’t let her drown; he was much too nice to do that to such a wonderful girl, so she traveled the river on her back, quite at peace looking at the sky above. Then she realized that the sun was going down.

“Oh my! She exclaimed. “I must be getting back. Mother will be worried. I’ve never been late in my life!” And so Emmie swam to the bank, and climbed out. She sighed as she noticed her wet clothes. Every little thing around her was sad with her, and fluffy little baby animals died of heart break. But she soon recovered, and asked Mr. Sunlight a question

“Oh Mr. Sunlight!” Emmie pleaded. “Please, I know you are going to sleep, but as a favor, please dry my clothes.” And the sun dried her clothes, because he loved her so much.

Emmie grew frightened as she realized she had no idea were she was. Then, she found a path, rather small, but still suitable.

“I better follow it.” She said to herself. “If it leads to a village, I will ask for help. And so she followed the path, through thick forests, plains, valleys, hills, and then more thick forests. Finally, in the middle of a clearing in a thick forest, she saw a small town. As she traveled nearer, she realized something was strange about it. It was very rural. No electricity, no plumbing, and no air conditioning. The houses were also very small, and Emmie would not be able to fit through a door.

“What a queer little village! She gasped. She walked into the middle of the town, and the houses only reached the middle of her thigh. All the houses were made of organic material; thatched roofs, adobe walls, wooden doors. Emmie stared in wonder and awe.

“Hello!” she called. “Any body here?” Suddenly the sound of beating drums echoed through the clearing. Small beings, about as tall as her knee, came into sight out of the clearing. They were tan, but had stripes of color all over them. They were ginger bread men. But these were no ordinary gingerbread men. They were the most foul, loathsome creatures you will ever lay eyes on! Their grins were evil, and there eyes gleamed with a malicious light, different from the wholesome light that radiated from Emmie.

The ginger bread man that seemed to be the leader came forward.

“Who you?” he asked in a guttural voice. “I Koq. Who are you?”

“Why, I’m Emmie” She laughed. A shudder ran through the crowd as she laughed.

“Emmie, you disturb sacred ceremony. You pay!”

“I am so sorry.” Emmie said. “Is there any thing I can do for you?”

“Follow.” Koq replied. He led the whole band through a small path. Emmie was delighted to be walking with these gingerbread folk. Then, she suddenly stepped into another clearing. Here there were many other gingerbread men, sitting in a ring, some with drums in their laps. “Stay!” commanded Koq. Emmie sat down; ready to see what she thought would be a traditional dance. The drums started. Two ginger bread men leapt into the ring, with sharpened sticks in hand. With a quick flurry of movement, the two gingerbread men came together, sticks flashing. Then it was over. One of the gingerbread men fell over with a spear jabbed firmly into his chest. The cheer from the crowd was deafening as they all leapt to their feet and sprang to the fallen cookie. Soon they drew away and all that was left of him were a few crumbs.

Emmie gasped in horror. “What was that?” She yelled. “That was inhumane!”

All the gingerbread looked her way. “It is our way” said Koq. “When the child is born, the two parents fight to the death.”

“But....but....but... you’re all male, aren’t you?”

“Yes, we are” Koq replied

“Well, where do the babies come from? How do they come into this world?”

“We're talking cookies for crying out loud! WE can do quite a few other things deemed impossible” Koq said. “Now as for you.......”

And there was much rejoicing at their new found source of food, and they pledged to find a baker willing to make them some women.

aw, thats awesome!

in grade five i wrote this story about me and my friend and we were suddenly sixteen and yeah...its interesting trying to understand what i was talking abut...

in grade four i wrote this story where i used my friends name for a horse and she got really mad at me, and i didnt know why...

Exactly. Only it frightens me. Most of the time.

I DO love the feeling when you get far enough into a story, so that you're no longer the author, but the recorder jotting down the events. That's a feeling I adore.

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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.

When I was six I made up this world called Flowerland, were the people wore clothes made out of plants, and that's all they ate.

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<center> .nph ftw.
[!~^$=+?]</center>

I just finnished my book yesterday! Woo hoo! My dad was looking through my sketch journal, and saw the map I made to go with the book... and asked me why I drew it, so I told him I was writing a book, and so he's like "how far are you?" and I'm like "finishing the first book" and he's like "the first chapter you mean?" "no the first book. I'm on like the first chapter" and now after I've printed it out, he's told my mom about it and on the way to our family reunion my mom's going to read it, and my dad also told my cousin and grandpa so they also want to read it. and now my A-U aunt and mom want to read it too... so yeah...

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

I WANT TO READ IT! Don't leave me out!

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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'll post it up chapter by chapter when I get back *points at siggy* I'm leaving tonight!

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

ohh! I'm leaving pm friday! We just got out of school today here!

Take lots of lovely pics that you can post up if you can!

If you don't mind my asking, where will you be going?

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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.

To a christmas family reunion in TN! I live down in Florida, so it's a 12 hour drive there. I'll be watching the whole LotR trology extended edition on the way there tonight...

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

How strange! I'm going to TN as well!!! Awkward much...

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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.