|Favorite book:||Ranger's Apprentice|
|Member Since:||May 12, 2012|
Heir to the Throne: Sea of Darkness
Before Ashe could grasp for something to keep her steady, the carriage greatly increased in speed, make her jump wildly in her seat. Outside, the loud sound of horse hooves thundered through forest, sending birds and other forest animals in an uproar. In the distance, the outlying trees seemed to turn darker, as if a black veil curtain was spreading over the forest.
"What is happening?" Ashe yelled, trying to overcome all the noise.
"I need you to listen to me." her mother said, her voice booming with obvious royalty. She reached under her seat and took out a tiny object covered in leather. Flipping the pocket, she revealed a knife.
The knife was a lot like her mothers - long, extremely sharp, and very beautiful. The only difference was the color - it was a glowing cyan, as if it was forged from the coldest ice...
Requesting a Read?
Before you even send me a link to your work, I require that you view and comment on at least one of my works. I like to get comments and input too, you know ;).
Also, although I love reading, there are certain works that I simply refuse to read, either because the genre bores me or the topics are too touchy for my tastes.
I will not read your work if it involves:
Anything else is fine.
On the other hand, I will prioritize your work if it involves:
What can I say? I'm a sucker for adventure and magic.
You know that Feeling?
You know that feeling you get when you suddenly wake up from a dream? For a few precious moments you are totally lost from the world, trying to hold onto that twined rope of your unconsciousness. And then, like a brick wall, real life comes crashing in and you suddenly remember everything.
When I write, I feel this way. Free, Creative, like Jay-the-incredible, the person I want to be. And when its time to put the pencil down, I let go of that rope, and close the pages of my book for another day.
Ever since I was small, my greatest asset was my pen. I've never been a great talker, but when it came to literary expression I was second to none. I would always spend my rainy days in Washington (which was almost every day) scribbling in my journal. While my peers were obsessed with their sports and games, I was obsessed with the world I've created. Every day people worked and played, saved and killed, lived and died. And this world had no name. It was simply my literary utopia.
When High School came, everything seemed to pause. Instead of writing for self gratification, I was writing for a grade. I wrote about Topics I didn't care about, like politics or technology. I was given rubrics and a set of concrete rules that were not to be broken. For four years, my views of writing changed. I was no longer enjoying scribbling on paper. I was hating it!
I'm in college now, and I want to ignite my passion for writing again. I want to be that kid who sat in the corner of the room. Writing. Smiling. Happy.
And maybe, if I were to put my maturity aside, I'll be able to find my twined rope and live again.
Never let your dreams die!