The Sky and the Roses

The Little Watson Girl's Dreams on Paper

Write it down, make it happen November 17, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — lilwatsongirl @ 1:20 am
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One thing I liked in Henriette Anne Klauser’s article, ‘Wirite it down, make it happen” was her main point: if you write something down, it is more likely to happen. In my life, this is an overwhelming truth. My entire family has severe ADD, (Attention Deficit Disorder) and problems that prevent us form taking ADD medication, so we have extreme problems remembering things and staying focused. A common thing for us to do is to write down memos and such things on pieces of paper and hanging those papers from the chandelier in the kitchen, where they can be plainly seen. These papers are changed several times a day, and we all frequently just glance up there to make sure were not forgetting anything important.
Probably we’ve all had those moments where you wake up in the middle of the night with a great idea, but in the morning you forget what it was. I know when things like that happen that I have to write it down right when I think of it or else I will forget it.
I love the physical act of writing. It feels to me like a spark, a promising beginning. When I write, I want to act on whatever I write about. The theme of “Write it down, make it happen” works quite well for me.
~Watson

 

Hold my heart, video November 13, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — lilwatsongirl @ 12:43 am

This is a song called “By Your Side” by the band tenth avenue north. Its one of the most uplifting songs ive ever heard. =) this video is just the lyrics on a black background. (if anyone is interested, another song i love by them is called hold my heart, but that song is kind of sad)

 

Dance Floor November 12, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — lilwatsongirl @ 4:06 pm
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ROSIE
The music was loud, and pounding to the beat of Rosie’s heart. She was so excited to be at her first dance ever that she as practically tripping over herself in the effort to get through the doors. The disco ball hanging from the ceiling was shooting little lights all around the room, making Rosie’s dress sparkle. Her glittering blue high heels clicked on the dance floor as she walked out to see if she could find her friends, but just then, a slow song started. Rosie’s heart, already thudding along like a horse, sped up to a mile a minute. Hadn’t she imagined this moment a thousand times last night? She had pictured herself, in her flowing blue dress, with her sparkling heels, and her deep red hair twisted up with a blue silk ribbon, being asked to dance by a handsome young man. She had practiced dancing with her brother for weeks before this, to make sure she had perfected the steps. She was well practiced, so why was her heart thudding so as a boy walked towards her? He smiled, and Rosie smiled back.
“Would you like to dance?” he asked her.
Rosie smiled. “Of course I would!” and she allowed herself to be led out onto the dance floor for the first time in her life.

JACOB
Jacob straightened his collar, brushing away a lock of black hair, and rolled his eyes. His best friend Danny had asked a girl to dance, and their deal was that if one found a partner, the other had to find one too. At least Danny got a pretty girl. He thought ruefully, looking at the girl Danny was dancing with. She had long brown hair and a long pink dress.
Just then Jacob noticed a girl standing a ways a way, stealing hopeful glances at him now and then. He groaned softly. Whatever.
He walked over to the girl and said, not looking at her, “Do you want to dance?”
She turned scarlet. “Yes.” She smiled shyly up at him as they walked out onto the floor. He had to suppress another eye roll. She had curly blonde hair that was almost too curly, and very long eye lashes that were fairly drenched with mascara. Her dress was pink and frilly, as were her shoes. Jacob had never seen frilly shoes before. They were really funny looking.
Her name was Susanna and she loved to talk. Jacob spent the entire song praying for it to end. When it did, he fairly fled the dance floor.
“You danced!” Danny looked impressed.
“Yes I danced. Don’t ask me to do it again that was a nightmare.”
“But it’s another slow song! Come on, man! You can dance with Caitlyn, the girl I just danced with, she’s a really good dancer!”
“No.” Jacob sat down and refused to budge. He was not dancing again.

BEETLE
Beetle sat on the wall, trying his hardest to blend in. He had already had one near death experience tonight, and did not care for another. He had almost been stepped on by a boy with black hair and a girl with curly blonde hair and a lot of eye makeup.
Beetle had accidentally come in to the dance hall tonight because he had been hiding in a boys coat pocket when the boy came in. Now Beetle’s only intent was to get out.
Blue wings. Blue wings! Why did they have to be blue? I must stick out on this white wall like a horse in a pig pen. What am I going to do? Beetle looked around, fluttering his shiny blue wings as he did so. He spotted a boy with a purple corsage, and decided to make a dash- or a fly- for it.
No one spotted the tiny beetle with his whirring blue wings as he settles on the purple flower. He climbed down inside it.
This is not a safe place for me to be at all. He thought fearfully. The noise coming from those big black boxes called speekers was deafening, and it was scratchy and uncomfortable inside the corsage. Beetle poked on eye out. The boy whose corsage he was on was dancing nearer and nearer to the door. All at once, Beetle shot out from inside the flower, and zoomed out the exit.
Free at last!

MR WATSON
Standing in a corner for an hour had made Mr. Watson’s feet ache. He wished he could sit down, but there were no chairs. He looked around for his son, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Aha! There he was. “Jacob!” Mr. Watson called, beckoning his black-haired son ever.
“Yes?”
“Have you danced at all yet?” Mr. Watson surveyed his sons bored expression.
“Yes. Once.”
“You know, it gets a lot more fun if you actually dance. Sitting gets rather boring. Next slow song your going to ask a girl to dance or I’ll do it for you.”
“What? You can’t do that!”
“Yes actually I can.” Mr. Watson smiled.
Just then, a slow song started. Jacob looked unhappy, but Mr. Watson knew his son well, and understood the expression.
“It’s OK, Jake. I was scared too my first dance. You’ll be fine.”
Jacob looked at his dad, surprise making his eyes wide. “You went to dances?”
“Many.”
Jacob looked much better now than he had a moment before.
Mr Watson watched as Jacob marched up to a pretty girl who looked slightly nervous, standing there in her sparkling dress with her hair all don’t up.
“Would you like to dance?” Jacob asked.
“Yes!” the girl’s face lit up.
“What’s your name?” Mr Watson heard Jacob ask her, politely.
“Rosie.” The girl answered, smiling.

 

Golden eyed November 9, 2009

Filed under: Creative Writing Assignments — lilwatsongirl @ 4:00 pm
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This is i suppose the begining of a series.

A small girl stood on the sandy beach, staring out over the blue water, not knowing that she was not the only one staring. A boy, not much older than herself, stood a ways away, staring at her. He had never seen another human before, well, not since he was a baby.
The girl turned, and looked surprised to see him. She dragged her little raft up with her as she walked towards him.
“Hello!” she smiled. She really was very small, not young, but small. She was wearing a blue and gold dress, and her golden red hair was tumbling down over her small shoulders, striking against the blue cloth, and her eyes were of a most peculiar color of gold. Of course, the boy had no idea whether gold eyes were normal or not. His own eyes were silvery gray, and oddly blank.
He didn’t smile back. He was a stocky boy, of around 14 or so, with sandy blonde hair.  His silvery eyes were rimmed with thick dark eye lashes, looking almost feminine.
There was something very odd about his face, but the girl could not put her finger on what it was exactly. Maybe it was how blank his eyes were. “Who are you?” she asked curiously.
The boy just looked at her. Not answering. His eyes showed neither fear, nor curiosity, nor even the slightest sign of recognition that she had spoken.
“What’s your name?” she tried rephrasing the question, thinking perhaps he was dim.
“I don’t understand.” The reply made Lyli jump, not because of what he was saying, but because the boy was speaking wolf, not human. Lyli knew how to speak like all the creatures of the forest, but never had she met a human who spoke only wolf.
“I asked you what your name was.” She told him, switching to wolf tongue.
“I haven’t got one.”
“Oh.” The girl didn’t know what to say to this. “I’m Lyli.” She held out a hand, as though to shake his. He just looked at it.
Suddenly Lyli realized something. She knew why the boys eyes were so blank, and such a silvery shade of gray. Only one race had those blank, silver eyes. “You’re a heartless, aren’t you?”
The boy just looked at her.
”You are.” She said. The heartless were a race of people who had no emotions. Most people thought they were things of legend, but Lyli knew otherwise. This explained the boy’s blank eyes. He wasn’t feeling anything, not fear, not happiness, not anger, not even curiosity.
“So, um, you haven’t got a name?” Lyli wasn’t at all sure how one handled a boy with no emotions, who spoke only wolf.
“No. They call me Wanderer but I haven’t got a proper one.”
“Who’s they?” Lyli asked, curious.
“My pack.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I was raised by wolves, but my mother died recently, and the pack turned me out.”
This explained why he spoke wolf.
The boy, Wanderer, didn’t seem at all sad that his mother had died, or that he had been turned out by his ‘pack’, but Lyli felt sorry for him all the same.
“You could come with me.” The words were out of her mouth before she had thought them through. Could her raft fit two people? Did she want to deal with an emotionless boy with silver eyes, who spoke no human? She didn’t know, but she did know that there was something about this boy that made her want to like him, to help him.
“Why?”
This was such an odd response that Lyli stuttered as she tried to answer. “W-well I guess I-I j-just thought mayb-be you wouldn’t want….” She thought for a moment. “Why not?” answering a question with a question always worked on wolves, might it work on this boy?
“Oh. Ok then I’ll go.” he neither smiled nor looked apprehensive. Could one ever get used to such a boy?
* * *
After three days on the little raft with Wanderer, Lyli was certain she would never be used to him. He was so strange, his blank eyes, and the way he answered her many questions in such a blank way. He too asked questions, but they were all informational, not ‘out of curiosity’ questions.
Lyli began speaking with her father more and more in these three days. Her father was the reason for her unusual hair, name and eyes. Her father was the god of the sun. ‘Lyli’ in the ancient tongue meant ‘the dawn’.
When Lyli was born, half goddess, half mortal, she was sent to earth, and her father was forbidden to speak to her again, demi-god that she was. But the sun god loved his little daughter, who had been the dawn of a new life for him, and he had given her a stone to wear around her neck, a sun stone. Lyli could use this sun stone to speak with her father, but it only worked when the light of the sun touched her skin.
On the fourth day, the little raft beached on an island that seemed to be covered with an odd mist. Wanderer got out and pulled the raft up out of the water.
Well, that’s one benefit of having him here. Thought Lyli. He’s a lot stronger than me.
As soon as they were fully beached, Lyli knew something was wrong. Her sun stone had gone cold, a thing that had never happened before, even in the dead of night. She caught it up in her hand and stared at it’s smooth, glassy surface. The mist all around her swirled threateningly, and Lyli instinctively moved a bit closed to Wanderer.
“Where are we?” Wanderer’s voice broke the silence like a pebble dropped in a still pool. His silver eyes gazed around, uncaring.
“I-I don’t know.” Lyli stuttered.
Wanderer took a few steps forward, and Lyli followed.
“We should go back.” She said, fear lodged in her throat and made her voice high and unlike her natural one. “This isn’t right.” She turned back to go to the shore, but she met what felt like an invisible wall. “No, no no no!” Lyli pounded on the swirling wall of mist, but it was as impenetrable as if it had been made of stone. “No!”
Wanderer came over to feel the wall. “I’ve never felt something like this before. I can feel it, but I can’t see it.”
“No one can see it.” A deep voice came from behind them, farther up on the island. “But believe me, we can all feel it.”
Lyli turned, slowly, dreading what she was about to see. A man stood behind her, smiling sadly.
“I’m sorry for you, that you had to land here.”
Lyli looked him up and down. His clothes were ragged, and dirty, as was his face. He had a scar across his left cheek, which showed plainly, even in the faint light cast, seemingly by the mist itself. The man’s eyes were green, very green, almost yellow, and his hair was dark, but going grey.
The man’s green eyes were fixed on Wanderer, an expression of curiosity on his face. Lyli looked at Wanderer too, and saw that he had not understood anything the man had said.
“Who are you?” the man asked Wanderer.
Wanderer just looked at him.
“He doesn’t speak human.” Lyli blurted out. “And who are you?” she hadn’t meant to sound rude, but she was so scared that it turned out sounding that way.
“Ryder. I’m Ryder. And what does he speak? And what’s your name?”
“Hello, he speaks wolf, and my name is Lyli.”
“Wolf?” Ryder’s green eyes lit up. He turned to wanderer, and in perfect wolf, translated their entire conversation, ending with asking Wanderer’s name. Wander told him he had none, but was called the Wanderer.
“How do you know wolf?” Lyli asked him in amazement.
“I practically am a wolf.”
“What do you mean?”
Ryder turned those green eyes on her and said “Watch.” And in an instant, he was transforming, his hands becoming paws, and his face lengthening out into a wolf’s face.
“You’re a werewolf.” Wanderer’s eyes were locked on Ryder’s.
Turning back into a human, Ryder nodded.
“You have to get off this island.” He told them. “It does things to you. It’s making it harder and harder for me to be a human. It’s turning me slowly into a wolf. It will find the worst in you, and make it take over you. You’re a heartless, I can tell. Your silver eyes.” This was directed at Wanderer. “And you must be a demi-god. Your hair.”
Lyli locked eyes with Ryder for the first time.
“Ah. Not just any demi-god. You’re the daughter of the sun god, aren’t you? Banished forever from the realm of the gods for your mother’s blood.” He looked into her golden eyes. “In that case, you’d better stay. You may be the only hope for this island. You may bring the dawn to our island at last.”

 

The birth of a character November 3, 2009

Filed under: Reading Responses — lilwatsongirl @ 4:33 pm
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I focused on the question “How do you think up your characters”.

Francine Rivers, in response to this frequently asked question, said that often her characters are composites of people she knows. I think that there is something of someone we know in almost all of our characters, even if we don’t consciously put it there. My older sister, Elizabeth, writes stories like no one else I have ever met. Every time I have a birthday, she writes a story for me. This last one was called “The little Salt Girl” and it was one of the best stories I have ever read. As I was reading, I was startled out of the book by realizing that the main character of the book, the little salt girl, was me. Another thing Francine Rivers mentions about how her characters come about is that sometimes they are people that she would like to be. This is interesting, because the main character of any good novel will make mistakes, and do some not-so-good things. No well-rounded character is perfect. Yet this is probably true of a lot of authors. Something I know I do in my reading is that I search for characters that I either (1) relate to or (2) want to be like. I found it very interesting that authors do similar things in their writing. Francine Rivers gives an example of a character that she is like in some ways, who is not a very flattering person to be like. His name is Atretes, and he is a character driven by anger. A lot of people have this problem, perhaps not as badly as Atretes does, but almost everyone has made rash decisions when they were angry, that they have later regretted. Sometimes in my writing, especially in my poetry, I put in two different sides of myself, the side that I like, and the side that I don’t like. It is, for me, a way of stepping outside myself, and looking at things from an outsider’s point of view. It is a way of putting things in order in my mind, and it helps me figure out how to solve the problem with the side that I don’t like. “Some characters help to flesh out an issue”. What exactly does this phrase mean? It means that there are some characters whose main purpose is to fill in the gaps, or to show something from a different point of view, to help the reader understand something different about the story. These characters may seem disposable, but often they are really quite necessary. Sometimes it is vital that you see the plot from their angle, or that you understand something from their point of view in order for the story to function. There are several different ways for characters to be born, and Francine Rivers seems to touch on the important ones quite nicely. Sometimes though, it is difficult to tell how a character came about. Sometimes it seems that they are born of themselves, with no prompting or help from the writer. But this is a bit uncommon, usually characters come from us, the offspring of our lives and of our thoughts, and sometimes even the offspring of our personalities. ~Watson

 

Hallow’s Eve November 2, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — lilwatsongirl @ 6:41 pm
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Hallow stood, his face tipped to the full moon, which was almost covered by thundering clouds. His dripping black hair clung to his face and his eyes were closed. He was waiting.

As the clock in the old church struck twelve, Hallow’s eyes sprung open. Anyone watching him would have gasped in shock.

Hallow’s eyes were orange.

The girl he had been waiting for appeared, just as Hallow had known she would. She was there, but oddly transparent. Her name was Aria, and her tombstone was cracked with age.

Aria was a ghost. And not just any ghost. She was the ghost of a princess.

“Hallow.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“What did you want to tell me?” Hallow asked the girl-ghost.

“I came to tell you that there is someone is in the village, someone who does not belong there. His heart is black and his intentions are black.” Her face was distressed, “Hallow, you must stop him. He intends to kill.”

Hallow’s eyes grew round. “Who is he? Who does he work for? Why is he here? Who does he intend to kill?” The questions spilled from Hallow’s mouth.

“No one knows his name, for he goes about in disguise. He works for none but himself. He is here because, long ago, someone from this town killed his witch mother. He wants revenge. He is in one of the houses in the village.”

Hallow vanished. In his place stood a sleek black cat with round, orange eyes. He set off into town, and scratched at each door searching for a face that didn’t seem to recognize the black cat known as “Chaten.” No one in the town knew that Chaten and Hallow were one and the same, and that was just how Hallow liked it.

He knew the instant he had found the man he was looking for. Instead of greeting him and giving him something to eat, this man, who was draped all in black, scowled and slammed the door. Hallow crept around to the back of the house, and jumped to the sill of a window. Inside, he saw a dreadful sight. A girl stood in the center of the room, a knife held to her throat.

“If you say anything except what I’ve told you, you will wake up in the morning to find that all your family died in their beds. Do you understand?” the man whispered.

The girl nodded, looking terrified, and she was thrown out the door.

Hallow was at her side in an instant, back in his human form. He knew this little girl. He knew all the children in the town, and they all knew, and liked him. It was the adults that mistrusted Hallow for his odd eyes.

“Medly?”

Medly turned, and saw him. “Hallow!” She flung her arms around his neck. She was shaking.

“Medly, I saw what happened. What did that man tell you to do, or say? Please tell me.”

Medly shook her head.

“I promise no one will be hurt if you tell me, Medly. Don’t you trust me?”

Medly nodded and held on tighter to his neck. “He told me to get my grandfather, and bring him to the house, saying someone was sick and needed his help.” She whispered.

“Your grandfather?” Medly’s grandfather was the guardian of the town, the man who kept their life force going, and who kept them all safe.

Hallow had a plan, and he whispered it to little Medly. She agreed, and ran of to get her grandfather.

When the man in black opened the door, and saw Medly’s grandfather, he smiled sinisterly. “Come in, sir!” he said, in a would-be-casual voice. He didn’t notice the small black cat that slipped in after the old man.

As soon as the door shut, the man in black pounced. In a flash, the old man was tied up and gagged.

“Finally I can do to you just what you did to my mother. I’m going to roast you alive, old man. And there is no one here to stop me.”

“Oh really?” Hallow suddenly appeared, as if out of nowhere, and seized a sword lying on a table near by. “Am I no one then?” And he lunged.

The man in black reacted instantly. His dagger was in his hand, and he thrust wildly towards Hallow, and missed. The battle that followed was brief but intense.

In a matter of seconds, Hallow had run his sword through the man. But, with his dying strength, the man threw his dagger towards Hallow’s chest. The knife found its mark. Medly burst in at that moment, with all the men of the town, all of whom were armed.

Hallow fell to his knees.

“Hallow.” Medly was holding him up, even though she was half his size. “No Hallow, no. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. You can’t die, I won’t let you!” Tears were streaming down the small girls face, as she looked into Hallow’s eyes, which were now reduced to orange slits. “I won’t let you!”

Hallow put a hand to Medly’s hair. “Thank you for trusting me, Medly.” He said, with his last gasp, and he fell, never to move again.

From that day onward, the little town honored that day, and named it “Hallow’s eve” or “Hallow’s night”. All the children disguised themselves and went around, from door to door, asking for food, just as hallow had done. When visitors came, they saw the day as any other holiday, and brought the idea home with them. Over the years it was changed to a day of fear, and a day focused on getting, but it was not always that way.

It was once a day that was centered on sacrifice, and helping, and trust.

It was once the day to remember a boy, the outcast of a village, a boy with orange eyes. It was once a day to remember Hallow.