tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56491804026004098342024-02-20T21:53:15.068-08:00Breathings of Your HeartKathrynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14341486923447415490noreply@blogger.comBlogger61125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5649180402600409834.post-32606917755414664202015-04-09T14:41:00.002-07:002015-04-09T16:13:29.165-07:00Fire's Cry Part 1 by Shannon Magowan <br />
<i style="color: orange; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: xx-large;"><b>Fire's Cry</b></i><br />
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<span style="color: orange; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large; font-weight: normal;">By: Shannon Magowan </span></h3>
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<br />
The large shadow of a dragon blankets the earth beneath us as we walk towards an open field. It swoops down just above our heads close enough to touch, creating a strong blast of wind that sends us forward a few feet before it retreats into the low hanging clouds once more. I grip my sword handle nervously and pull it out a few inches, but Ulf's strong grip pushes it back down.<br />
"Not here. Not now. You're trying to gain the dragon's trust, not kill it."<br />
"I never wanted to be a Viking," I say irritably. Just because I'm a Grevidian, people think I want to storm beaches and pillage cities and other ships.<br />
"Finn, we were born in Grevidia, that's what we do. We steal. Why can't you accept that?"<br />
"You have it easy. You like dragons and sword fighting and you don't care about killing. You're the warrior of the family, not me."<br />
"I'm your twin. We're practically the same person."<br />
I look at Ulf with questioning eyes. Though our facial features are identical- thin, extremely blond hair, pale blue eyes, pale skin (just like every single person in Grevidia)- Ulf is the athlete. He's built strong enough to fight with a war ax, he's tall, and he's pretty much good at everything. And me? Wiry and terrible at everything. I can barely handle a sword.<br />
We take one more step and look out from the top of the grassy hill. Below us stretches a valley with buildings and arenas scattered here and there to form the shape of a dragon claw, the sign of Grevidian Vikings. And there's dragons. Everywhere. Forget the fact they can incinerate you in the blink of an eye, their mere size is enough to scare the living daylights out of you. Unless you're Ulf.<br />
Ulf just looks up dumbly at the beasts. "Cool," he says as a dragon unexpectedly charges another one, knocking both of their riders off. The terrified students are dangling by their waists from a thin cord that keeps them from falling to their deaths.<br />
"Stop yelling and climb back on you idiots!" Their instructor shouts from the back of a long, serpent like dragon with silver scales.<br />
Ulf nudges me. "C'mon, it'll be fun!" He starts walking down the hill with excitement as I lag behind. Yeah, I'd love to get charged by a dragon and almost die. Sounds way better than learning how to sail. I asked Pappa if I could learn navigation instead of participating in Viking Training, but he just laughed. He didn't even take my request seriously. 'My boy? A sailor?' He had laughed at that like I had just made a joke. 'My sons will grow up to be even greater warriors than their Pappa could be.' Then he gave me a sword and told me it was a gift I was to use in training. He had taught me the basics, and I still can't use it well. I had no way out of it, and it's too late now. I'm stuck for good.<br />
At the bottom of the hill we're greeted by a teenager who looks no older than eighteen. His eyes are a tealish color, and his hair just as blond as everyone else. It's tied back in a short, thin braid, a few stray pieces hanging in his eyes. He smiles. "Stig's boys, aren't ya? Been waiting for you two to turn fourteen. Now I get the honor to train one of the best warrior's sons. I'm Odin, Son of Anker."<br />
"I'm Ulf and this is my twin, Finn." Ulf extends his hand, and suddenly I realize that this kid has already lost a hand. A silver hook replaces it.<br />
Odin shakes Ulf with his one hand and leads us towards the building closest to us. It stands tall with carved stone pillars framing the small double doors. Odin grabs one of the door's handles with his hook and shoves the door open; its creaking echoes across the great hall inside with its domed roof. Small holes are splashed across the ceiling in no particular pattern. Then I look down at the black marble floor and notice that all the different sized holes in the roof create dozens of constellations when the sun shines through them. It has to be the design of a true architect.<br />
We stop at the end of the dome where a man sits, sharpening a long, curved knife on a stone. He looks up and wipes his knife with a stained white cloth before putting it down next to the other five on the table. He stands up.<br />
He towers above us, even Odin. He has a stone cold face marked with a long red scar that stretches from the corner of his right eye to his lip. His beard is stubby- barely noticeable with its blond color- and he has flaxen hair that reaches to his elbows. Braids appear here and there inside it, bound by brass clasps with designs engraved on them. He wears a fur vest like most Vikings, and the ivory horns on his helmet stretch far out in each direction.<br />
His lips curl in a cold smile. "Stig has told me a lot about you, Ulf."<br />
Sure, don't even notice me. Even my Dad couldn't find anything about me he could be proud of. "I'm Jarl Dag. I am the leader of the Grevidian Vikings. You will begin your training today. You'll start with learning how to ride a dragon, and work from there. Odin, take them to Draken Stables. Let them get acquainted with their steeds. With any luck, ah... they won't eat you."<br />
The sound of fire being spewed and the crackle of flames comes from the field, then the loud, panicked voice of a girl shouts a curse in the old Grevidian tongue. Another voice belonging to a man yells out some muffled words before I hear him say, "Let go of Mina! No! Drop the girl! Don't you dare bight down. WindHowl, drop the Viking! Drop it," then a thump onto the ground. "We need a doctor! Let's go, hurry up!"<br />
I stare at the door, then back at Dag. He only smirks. "They're harmless," he reassures.<br />
Odin leads us out into the field again, and the smell of smoke hangs low in the air. A section of long grass behind the Draken Stables is still smoldering as we stand in front of the entrance.<br />
"You ready?" Ulf asks.<br />
I don't answer. All I can think of right now is just how dead I'm going to be in two minutes.<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">To Be Continued...</span> </div>
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Note: Though the names seem weird, I'm trying to keep to true Scandinavian style (names and titles really) for anyone who will continue my story. And Jarl is just the Scandinavian title for lord.</div>
Shannon Magowanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12203224754662574056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5649180402600409834.post-29304740274143344462014-10-10T19:44:00.000-07:002014-10-14T09:53:01.561-07:00Captured! Part 3, by Aili<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">After a long afternoons work of chopping carrots and doing dishes, Ms. Canmore finally let me go. "I suppose you can stay in my tent for the night, I have a spare bed anyway." she continued in a harsh way "If you don't try to murder me in my sleep". I rolled my eyes "I don't plan to." I turned my back to her and walked out.<br>
<br>
I looked around, it was already quite dark out. Most of the men were sitting around a fire, talking and laughing to each other. I was freezing, for my wool shawl wasn't enough. I thought about running, but there were too many men guarding the borders of the camp.<br>
<br>
I turned my head and saw a young Redcoat coming towards me. "Are you Samantha?" I looked at him. I would of guessed that he was around seventeen. "Yes, I am." I said with an attitude. He came closer. "I have orders to take you to the prisoner tent." He had short brown hair, green eyes and a face covered in freckles. "Prisoner tent? I'm staying with Ms. Canmore." I said with confidence. "I'm sorry, I must take you to the prisoner tent. Trust me, it's better than it sounds." I crossed my arms and grunted "Fine". He smiled "Follow me".<br>
<br>
I followed him into a small tent with a dirt floor, same as the kitchen. In it were two grungy mats with a few blankets. He picked up a frayed rope and I just sighed. "Do you really have to tie me up? It's not like I'm gonna go wandering threw the forest at night, alone." He smiled agian "Good to know, but neither of us has a choice." I put my arms out and he wrapped the rope around my wrists. "Yikes! Not too tight." I yelled. He laughed "Sorry" and <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">loosened the knot. "I'm Miller by the way". He finished and let me sit down. "Good night, Samantha."</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br>
When he left, I expected I'd cry. I mean, for goodness sakes, I'm being held hostage by the Redcoats! But instead, I smiled and let out a brief blush. I kind of got mad at myself, was I really blushing over a Redcoat who had just tied me up?<br>
<br>
The night was long and very, very cold. I swear, I was numb they entire night. When the sun finally arose, I wondered if I could exit the tent, for only my hands were tied. I decided to wait until someone came and got me to help with breakfast. After waiting about an hour, Miller finally came and got me. "Good morning!" He said cheerfullly. "Now, I'll untie you, but you must promise not to run. Promise?" I stood up to let him untie me. "I promise".<br>
<br>
Miller took me to the kitchen and right away, Ms. Canmore was bossing me around. "Now, I'm gonna start on breakfast, so I need you to peel the potatoes for lunch, Then, you can hand out breakfast and <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">do the dishes." As hard as it was for me to respect her, she was just a hardworking old widow trying to cook for God knows how many men. "Yes, Ma'am." I replied. </span></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">After the potatoes were peeled, Ms. Canmore, had me hand out bowls of some kind of mush that was supposed to be edible. Not surprisingly, it tasted even worse then it looked.</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">After handing out breakfast and having my own, Miller approached me. "Do you miss your camp?" I looked at him. "Yes." He thought for a moment, " All of this must be very overwhelming for you." I quickly replied "Yes, it sure is." There was a short pause "Ms. Canmore must be hard to work with. I'll see if you can get the day off, and spend it with me?" I smiled "That would be nice, although, I'm a prisoner, not a guest."</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"> To be continued! I hoped you enjoyed it.</font></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"> -Aili</font></div>
Ailihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11310631174811367347noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5649180402600409834.post-23944277270189386192014-10-08T14:48:00.000-07:002014-10-09T11:02:00.553-07:00Captured! Part 2, by Rachel S<br />
They took me across the camp, looking around, I saw soldiers in redcoats walking around, talking, sharing a laugh, a few were sitting around a small fire they made, their rifles at their sides. I hesitated but I felt a sharp pain on my arm as he pulled me.<br />
" Hurry," He said in a military manner.<br />
a shiver went down my spine. what would happen to me now? We walked up to a bigger tent. A ramshackle sign said it was the dining hall. He stopped at the entrance and called for someone to come out. An older lady walked out, an apron on, she looked hot, like she was bent over a stove for a long time.<br />
" Ms. Canmore, We have a girl here who'd be of help to you in the kitchen," He said.<br />
Ms. Canmore looked older, weathered face, tall and stern. She looked down at me.<br />
" Whats your name?" She asked.<br />
" Samantha Braxton Ma'am," I said, looking down at my foot that was scuffing a rock on the ground.<br />
" Speak up girl! I can't hear you, look me in the eyes when you speak," She said.<br />
I looked up, into her stern eyes, her brown hair wispy pulled into a bun, she looked tired.<br />
" Samantha Braxton Ma'am," I said a little louder.<br />
Ms. Canmore looked at the soldier, sighed and folded her arms.<br />
" I'll keep her out of trouble, come on Samantha," She said.<br />
The soldier let me go like a hot iron, I felt my arm trying to soothe the pain out of it. But I didn't get any time to think because before I knew it, Ms. Canmore was pushing me inside the tent, telling me what to do in a rushed manner. I was scared.<br />
.....<br />
<i>to be contiued </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Go Boldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01527552123628159289noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5649180402600409834.post-81828642106944805012014-09-26T20:23:00.001-07:002014-10-09T11:02:31.888-07:00Captured! Part 1, by Kathryn<i>First off, I want to thank everyone for their many story ideas! It was extremely hard to pick one. I don't think any one time period would please everybody, so I finally just had to choose one. I think we will have a lot of fun with it, and I can't wait to begin! Don't be disappointed if it wasn't exactly what you wanted; we will do more stories!</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Setting: Revolutionary War, the American Army</i><br />
<i>Main Character: Samantha Katherine Smyth</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Disclaimer: All characters and battles are fictional. I didn't want to take the time to historically research this. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>So without further ado, let us begin. </i><br />
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***</div>
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"Oh, bother! Not again!" </div>
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With a grunt, I hurried towards the large tent in front of me. Its flickering walls stood out against the dark background of woods behind it. The night was starless and chilly, my every breath forming a cloud. </div>
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"Hank," I began, pushing back the tent flap. But I stopped short when the heads of a dozen officers shot up from the table. </div>
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"Yes, Samantha, what is it?" one of them asked. </div>
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"Sorry, I'll come back later, sir," I apologized, leaving the tent and allowing the men to return to their conference. </div>
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The man was Captain Henry Braxton, or Hank as I called him. He had been a good friend of my now departed father, Edward Smyth. My father had served under him until a year prior, when he was killed by a British bullet. He made Captain Braxton promise to take care of me, which he was ever willing to do. The captain knew how close I had been to my darling father, so much so that I had followed him to the battlefield, my mother being deceased since I was a young child. </div>
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Hank was truly more like a grandfather to me in age, but loved me like a daughter, and we grew ever so close. He had continually cared for me, making sure my every need was met, even if that meant less for him.</div>
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I suppose I should tell you a bit about myself. My name is Samantha Katherine Smyth. At the time of this story, I was 15 years old, living in the camp of the American Army. The soldiers there knew me as Sam, the fiery redhead who had a temper to match. In the camp, I was water girl, seamstress, cook and even nurse if need be. I would do most anything that needed to be done, though I was getting quite tired of fetching Hank's horse, who rather enjoyed straying from camp. </div>
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At last, after 20 minutes or so, the officers departed the tent and mounted their waiting horses. Off they galloped into the dark night, the sound of hooves fading into the distance.<br />
I entered the army tent once more, glad to find the captain by himself, smoking his pipe.<br />
"Ah, there you are, darling. I hope your matter wasn't of too much importance. I tried to hurry them along," he said, rising from his seat. I hugged him and began irritably,<br />
"It's that horse of yours. He's gone and deserted again."<br />
Hank laughed heartily, the gold buttons on his fine uniform tinkling. <br />
"Dear me, what shall we do with that thing? I'm afraid I have to go over these papers with Lieutenant Atchinson in a few minutes. Would you be so kind as to locate the animal?"<br />
I grunted.<br />
"I shall, but if he does it again, I will have him hung."<br />
Smiling, Hank shook his head and returned to the many papers strewn across the makeshift table.<br />
He was white-haired, with the exception of a small amount of grey on his sideburns. He had a long and thin face, one that had been quite dashing in his youth. When he smiled, wrinkles would appear around his blue eyes.<br />
While he had a soft and gentle side, the side that I saw most, Hank could still be the stern and ever intimidating Captain Braxton. His passion for freedom and liberty spread to his men like a wildfire. Even when a battle seemed lost, he would shout with all his might, "Onward to victory!", reviving their dimmed hopes and spirits.<br />
Hank planned to take me with him back to Philadelphia-his home-once the war was over. I think, though, that every day he worried that he might be killed- not for fear of dying; he would gladly do so for his country-but that I would be left without soul in the world. <br />
"Will you be able to have supper when I get back?" I asked the captain.<br />
"Yes, I believe so, darling. I'm sorry you've had to wait so long. I'll try to hurry with Lieutenant Atchinson, all right?"<br />
"And I'll hurry and find that stubborn animal," I sighed, leaving the tent. <br />
"Oh, and take a soldier with you," he called. <br />
I took a lantern, lit it, and headed for the far woods where the mischievous animal liked to roam. I knew the place well, for we had been camped here for quite some time. <i>I don't need one of the men</i>, I thought. <i>They'll only be sore for me interrupting their card game.</i><br />
I wandered deeper and deeper into the woods, whistling and beckoning for the horse to come. The moon and stars had at last come out from behind the billowing clouds, aiding my plight in finding the lost animal.<br />
As I continued to shine my lantern about, a soft rustle sounded in the brush behind me. I whirled around, but no horse was there. Stealthily I walked forward and around a grove of thick bushes. My dim light suddenly fell upon two men crouched on the ground. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the brightly colored uniforms and the scowl etched on their faces. </div>
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<i> Redcoats!</i></div>
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Before I could muster a scream, a hand clapped over my mouth and I was forced to the damp earth.<br />
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***</div>
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"You blundering fools! What am I to do with this child?" a voice howled. </div>
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"Sir, she was about to give us away! We had to take her." </div>
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I held my breath, not daring to open my eyes. <i>Where am I? </i> </div>
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"You had better be glad she didn't. Our entire attack would be ruined if the American camp knew we were here." </div>
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My heart dropped. I hadn't imagined the bright red coats and the foreign accents as I had hoped. No, they were real, horribly real. </div>
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"I suppose we'll have to keep her here, thanks to your brightness. Wake her." </div>
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I shuddered as I felt the hard tip of a boot prod into my side. My eyes opened, revealing a low-rank British officer staring down. </div>
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He yanked me off the cold soil, myself a bit dizzy from the apparent blow I had received on the head earlier. The man pushed me a few paces forward until I stood directly in front of the British general whose voice had boomed throughout the tent. <br />
"State your name," came the order.<br />
"Samantha Smyth Braxton." My voice quivered.<br />
The face of the old general suddenly grew very surprised.<br />
"Braxton? You are of no relation to the Yankee pig Henry Braxton, are you?" <br />
I scrunched my face, a sign that my courage had suddenly appeared and had taken over.<br />
"Captain Braxton is no pig, I assure you. Legally I am of no relation, but in my heart he is my adopted father," I stated, blood boiling. The general laughed.<br />
"How humorous that the captain's daughter shall be on our side when he is killed. Take her to help the women cook," he sneered. "I'm sure she will bring little trouble. But just the same, keep a close eye on her. The American Army must have no knowledge of our residence here."<br />
With a tight grasp I was pulled out of the tent and into the dark British camp. <i>You have a lot to learn about Sam Smyth, general, </i>I thought<i>, </i>my eyes filling up with tears.<i> I'll find a way to reach Hank and the men if it's the very last thing I do on this earth.</i></div>
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<br />
<i>To be continued!</i><br />
<br />
Kathryn</div>
Kathrynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14341486923447415490noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5649180402600409834.post-46105882377662386632014-07-23T21:13:00.000-07:002014-07-23T21:13:24.535-07:00New Story SuggestionsHey, everyone!<br />
<br />
I would like to hear some suggestions regarding the next BOYH story! We haven't finished the current one, but I think it would be easier to getting rolling again if we start another one. Have a favorite time period or historical event? Suggest it in the comments and I will consider it! I might come up with a list and let the contributors vote, or, let all you guys vote, too! We'll see. ;)<br />
<br />
Comment your suggestions!<br />
<br />
Thanks!<br />Kathryn :) Kathrynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14341486923447415490noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5649180402600409834.post-79341165652625140092014-06-26T05:11:00.000-07:002014-06-26T05:11:27.876-07:00The Winner!First off, thank you to everyone who entered! I enjoyed reading all the entries immensely and hope we can do this again soon!<br />
<br />
*announcer voice* And now... For the winner... *drumroll*<br />
<br />
AIZESS! Congrats, Aizess!<br />
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I picked her paragraph because I was immediately impressed with her writing style. And the fact that it was very short, yet it captured my attention right away and made me want to keep reading. Well done, Aizess!<br />
<br />
Here is her entry:<br />
<br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">By the time he
arrived, he knew he was too late. He opened the ornately carved, cherry
wood entrance door and heard nothing. Everything was silent. Too silent.
Even the wind held its breath and refrained from rustling the few
golden-red leaves left on the trees. He looked around with the air of a
thief and suddenly tore through the house searching for his target: his
wife. He made a thorough search through all the rooms, but to no avail.
Yet, instead of being discouraged, his dark eyes gleamed with a
dangerous excitement. “I will find her––no matter the cost.”</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: small;">Thanks again to everyone who entered! They all the entries were fantastic and I look forward to seeing some of that writing talent in another story! </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: small;">~Kathryn </span> </span></span>Kathrynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14341486923447415490noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5649180402600409834.post-9684488001694783492014-06-19T09:49:00.002-07:002014-06-19T09:49:28.216-07:00Writing ContestKathryn here!<br />
<br />
I apologize for the lack of writing here at BOYH. We're going to try to change that. But to get things rolling... *drumroll*... We are going to have a contest!<br />
<br />
This contest will be between the contributors, not including myself, since I will be the judge. I may hold some contests where <i>everyone</i> (Yes, followers! That means you!) can enter soon.<br />
<br />
Alright, here are the rules.<br />
<br />
1. You must enter only a <i>paragraph</i>, not an entire story. I'm not going to make it a specific word count, because I know those are hard to do. So just try not to make it too long. <br />
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2. It may be about anything! A gruesome pirate who has kidnapped a young woman and she is devising an escape plan. A Revolutionary War solider as he fights under the brave General Washington. A man has an accident and wakes up not knowing who he is... You get the idea. And pick a random spot in your story, if you'd like. You don't have to start at the very beginning. *cue Sound of Music song* Sorry, I got distracted. <br />
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3. It starts now, and ends on the 26th of June. Yeah, I know that's only a week, but I hate waiting. And if it's any longer, Dory here will forget she even has a contest going. Or a blog called Breathings of Your Heart, for that matter.<br />
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4. Don't post your entry, just email it to me. I will pick a winner, and maybe some runners up, and those will get posted on BOYH. There is no prize. Just the fact that you are the winner. :)<br />
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5. Be creative and have fun!<br />
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If you have any questions, email me. I'm so excited to see all the entries!<br />
<br />
On your marks, get set, WRITE!<br />
<br />
Kathryn :)Kathrynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14341486923447415490noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5649180402600409834.post-81919972042874539712013-10-06T20:41:00.000-07:002013-10-06T21:10:32.023-07:00A Friend For Grace- Part TEN<div style="text-align: justify;">
Hand in hand, Wilhelm and I walked out of the barn and into the house looking for Papa. As we neared our wooden home I sent up a heartfelt prayer, hoping Papa would be in an agreeable mood. Sure, lately, he'd been a bit more approachable and slightly kind but he still wasn't the father I knew he could be to my sisters and I or even to Wilhelm. He was still distant and his face was always creased with unhappiness. It seemed that music was the only thing that could cheer him up. And having Wilhelm here also cheered him up. Maybe Wilhelm's arrival wasn't only a blessing for me but for Papa as well. Maybe Wilhelm was the son Papa never had but always wanted. Maybe, just maybe, this little German boy was the answer to prayers long petitioned and not yet answered. I hoped that this was the case</div>
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Wilhelm must have noticed the small tear that had escaped and now rolled down my face. </div>
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<br /></div>
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"You a'right Miss Grace?"</div>
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I quickly swiped away a second tear with the back of my hand and answered, "You don't have to keep calling me <i>Miss Grace</i>, you know. I'm you're sister now okay? And yes Wilhelm, I'm fine. I was just thinking about how happy I am that you're here, living with us. I truly believe that God sent you because He knows that we need you.</div>
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Wilhelm's eyes clouded at the mention of God and the muscles in his jaw tightened, but before I could ask why, he quickly answered, "Really Miss Grace? You're glad I'm here?"<br />
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I raised and eyebrow at his using the term <i>Miss</i> again but let it go. He was trying to get used to having a loving family again. I understood that. "Yes I am Wilhelm. Your coming here has softened my Papa's calloused heart, if even only a bit. Seeing this change in him, as slight as it may be, I know that greater things are still to come of him and for our family and that includes you Wilhelm."<br />
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I smiled down at him and opened the door jamp. It was nigh mid day so Papa should be in washing up for lunch. I heard a rustle in the kitchen and knew that was him. In all honesty, my father was a frightening man of 6'2 with long, powerful strides. I could tell that once upon a time his now dim blue eyes sparkled with good humored mischief and fun. Now, his scowl alone could make any perfectly poised girl cry. I was used to it though.<br />
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I silently inched closer to him and said, "Excuse me Papa."<br />
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He grunted something along the lines of, "What do you want." while drying his hands on a checkered dishrag.<br />
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Instead of shrieking back in fear at his lack of enthusiasm, I held my head up high and asked, "Will you allow Wilhelm to play the violin for us tonight? He's very good and has even played under the teaching of Johannes Brahms, an accomplished violinist from Germany.</div>
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Papa's already deeply set scowl became even more feirce… if that were possible but his response shocked me. "Well, I don't see why not. He'd better be real careful with it though."</div>
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Though it wasn't the ecstatic response I hoped for, he had still given his permission. That was a big step in the right direction.</div>
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"Wilhelm, did you enjoy dinner tonight?" Mama asked with a smirk on her face as she began clearing the dishes. The boy had scarfed down his steak and onions and this plate was as shiny as a mirror. Mama's cooking was the best and she knew it. Hearing Wilhelm, muffled "Yes'm"confirmed what she already knew to be true. </div>
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"Well Wilhelm, are you going to play or not. We're all waiting to hear what that fancy man taught you." Papa's comment, as rough as it sounded was surprisingly, an eager petition to begin the evening ritual of violin playing at our house.</div>
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Wilhelm nodded and got up to the where Papa kept his violin safely tucked away as we all gathered around him. He pulled the instrument out and caressed the shined wooden handle and horse hair strings. His hands moved to the tuning pegs and he rotated several of them until he smiled and said sheepishly, "This song, Hungarian Dance No. 1" was one of Mater's favorites.</div>
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He bagan playing. I held my breath hoping that the skills he told me has possessed were indeed as refined as I had imagined. He played a beautiful tune, one that was so alive! It lacked the melancholy I saw etched on Wilhelm face. Perhaps it was the unhappy memories this particular song brought to his mind. But as he reached the climax of this piece, I saw him smile and his eyes twinkled like never before. He was enjoying himself. I looked around the room, at the faces of my family members and saw that they too were genuinely enjoying themselves and Wilhelm's playing. I smiled at him as he began playing more rapidly; his chords sounding like a buzzing bumblebee. When he had finished, he took a bow and walked back the upper shelf where Papa kept the violin. As he faced us all again we clapped for him. I sat there amazed at what I had just witnessed. Wilhelm was a young boy, yes, but his talents were obvious. The boy was a prodigy! </div>
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Papa congratulated him with neutral words, "That was pretty impressive boy. I liked it. Maybe you can play again tomorrow night." </div>
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***</div>
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If you'd like to hear Johannes Brahms' "Hungarian Dance No. 1", the piece Wilhelm played in the story, just click <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HbOpcRAUGHg">here to hear the audio on YouTube.</a></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5649180402600409834.post-43550687988890863292013-07-16T15:40:00.001-07:002013-07-16T15:42:03.801-07:00A Friend for Grace~Part 9~Hi, everyone! This is Jan, and my first post! Yay! :). I hope you like A Friend for Grace, part 9! :)<br />
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Wilhelm didn't pull away. One more thought flashed through my mind. The violin! When Papa had played his violin, Wilhelm's eyes had lit up. Why, I wondered. Should I even bring it up? <br />
"Wilhelm, um, I..." I broke off, then began again. "Wilhelm, do you like the violin?" Maybe he'd tell me why.<br />
"Yes. I...." Now Wilhelm broke off, and his face took on a dreamy, happy look. He gave a deep sigh and began talking. "When Mutter, Vater, and I lived in Deutschland, I used to visit a man named Johannes Brahms. I ran into him one day while out, and apologized, but he didn't care. He invited me to his house for a lunch. He was a very nice man, and a famous violinist too. He used to allow me to play on his violin, and he said I had talent. He was going to help me get on the stage, but.." his voice turned into a whisper. "...when we left, the violin was gone for me too." Suddenly I understood. Hmmm, I thought. Maybe Papa could let him practice on his violin. You never know unless you try! I jumped to my feet.<br />
"Come on!" I said. "Lets go see Papa!"Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5649180402600409834.post-50856396441202279482013-06-29T07:01:00.001-07:002013-06-29T07:01:56.823-07:00A Friend for Grace~Part Eight~<span style="background-color: white;">Hi everyone! I'm Alivia--one of the new contributors! I just thought I'd share my bio with you! I hope you like my part!</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Hi! My name is Alivia. I am almost 13 and I have 3 sisters! I like to read, play piano, play outside because I love nature, go on walks around our neighborhood! I love animals especially horses and puppies. I love writing stories!! I love my family and I am a Christian who loves God so much!!</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">I held my breath and looked at Papa. The expression on his face changed, his eyes softened. "Well, Wilhelm, there's a first time for everything, isn't there?" Wilhelm looked up at Papa, his eyes wide and scared. He nodded slowly. "In-in Germany, my Mutter and Vater and I would-would go to-to church on Sonntag. Then, Vater decided to-to move to Amerika and then--" he stopped and looked around at everyone, like he had said more than he had intended to say. Papa cleared his throat. "Well, then I guess you'll be able to fit right in, then." Wilhelm nodded slowly and climbed into the wagon and sat as close to me as he could.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">That afternoon, after getting home from church, Wilhelm and I went outside. We sat against my favorite old oak tree and just listened to the wind. Then, Wilhelm started talking again, slowly at first, but then it came pouring out. "After Vater decided to move to Amerika, we pack and pack. Mutter did not want to go, she like our home in Deutschland. But Vater said, "We go to Amerika," so we go. On the schiff, Mutter and Vater be very sick. Then, Mutter--she, she died. Vater died soon after. I was alone. A kind lady helped me find my way to an Waisenhaus and they sent me here to your family." I sat there, stunned. Wilhelm had just told me what was the inner source of all his sorrows. I didn't know what else to do but to put my arm around him.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><i>Translation for German words:</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><i>Mutter--Mother</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><i>Vater--Father</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><i>Sonntag--Sunday</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><i>Amerika--America</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><i>Deutschland--Germany</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><i>Schiff--Boat</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><i>Waisenhaus--orphanage </i></span></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5649180402600409834.post-19111034188923898982013-06-20T08:02:00.000-07:002013-06-20T08:02:24.317-07:00A Friend For Grace - Part SevenBy Madeline. :)<br />
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''Get up, get up! It's time to rise and shine,'' Mother sang. The sounds of her melody drifted into my room, even though it was up in the attic.<br />
I groaned, and moved stiffly. I opened my eyes sleepily and peeked at the bed Lily and Margaret shared. It was empty.<br />
''Grace, if I have to come up there...,'' Mother warned. I was out of my bed in a flash. I quickly threw a dress on--a nicer one, because it was Sunday-- and ran down the steps to the kitchen.<br />
''Eat quickly Grace; it's almost time to leave for church,'' Mother said. I sat down at the table and she put a plate loaded with eggs, sausage and potatoes in front of me. ''Thanks,'' I said, my words mixed because of the food already in my mouth.<br />
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''Where's Wilhelm?'' Papa asked. We were all at the front door, ready to leave--except for Wilhelm, that was. ''I'll find him,'' Lily volunteered. She walked off, her blonde curls bouncing. Several thumps, sounds of glass breaking and sighs later, Lily appeared, marching Wilhelm behind her. ''Your China vase broke and the books all spilled out of the bookshelf,'' Lily said apologetically to Mother. Mother only sighed and closed her eyes.<br />
''Are you ready to leave for church, Wilhelm?'' Papa asked, tactfully avoiding the topic of the vase and the bookshelf. Wilhelm shook his head wildly, his wide eyes staring at me. <i>It's almost like he's trying to tell me something,</i> I thought. I racked my brain for what it could be.<br />
I cleared my throat. ''Uh, I don't think Wilhelm has ever, uh, been to church before,'' I said feebly. Wilhelm nodded. <br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5649180402600409834.post-28577097481039212132013-06-19T20:09:00.000-07:002013-06-19T20:09:50.864-07:00A Friend For Grace... Part 6By Hannah :)<br />
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I got up early the next morning. Although I had gotten hardly any sleep last night I had to be by myself. So many thoughts raced through my head pushing around trying to get the first answer; but I had no answers. I slipped into a pale green dress, faded brown boots, tied my hair up halfway and grabbed a knitted shawl. I quietly made my way downstairs, crossed through the parlor, and slipped through the front door, when I knew it had closed silently behind me I started to run. I would never dare run when someone was looking. I was considered to old for it. But the good morning tweets from the near by birds couldn't give me away. I ran for our barn, all thoughts, worries, and unanswered questions about Wilhelm and Papa flew away in the morning breeze. I was chilled and panting as I came upon our barn.<br />
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"Gud mornin' miss Grace." I jumped as Wilhelm interrupted the peace of the morning in a accented voice I had never heard before. I'm afraid I was quite rude for I stood there shocked, with my mouth open, not replying. " 'm sorra miss Grace to give yu a startle." I finally regained myself enough to reply. " It's fine. I just hadn't heard you speak. I didn't even know you spoke English!" He blushed and answered " Well 'm quite aroun' folks, and-an' ... such." He sounded sad and tired and for the first time I realized how rude I had been. "Wilhelm, I'm so very sorry about your parents. I can't imagine how hard it must be for you." He nodded and changed the subject."<br />
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"Is it your books miss Grace in the top of the barn?" I was very confused. The top of the barn? " I'm not sure what you mean." I answered truthfully. He walked over to the barn entrance and pointed upward. I almost laughed out loud but, managed to cough instead. " The loft , Wilhelm, Yes, I keep my books and other treasures up there. I like to get away sometimes." He looked curious. "Than it is your kittens as well?" "I don't have any kittens, Wilhelm, and there are none up there." He frowned and nodded sternly. "Oh ya, there are. At least 6, all in a box with a gray mother and..." He stopped there, for I had started toward the ladder up toward the loft.<br />
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<i>Dear Diary,</i></div>
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<i>This morning Wilhelm and</i> <i>I became friends. He is very quiet and will not talk about his parents or his life in Germany. He can't write or read English, only speak it.</i> <i>He always calls me Miss Grace. He is very scared of every one in our family</i> <i>and won't talk to me in front of others. He is odd but had some curious trinkets in his knapsack. Mother is calling.</i></div>
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<i> </i> <span style="font-family: 'English111 Adagio BT'; font-size: 24pt;">Grace</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5649180402600409834.post-47085072179744272402013-06-15T12:03:00.001-07:002013-06-15T12:03:11.278-07:00A Friend for Grace: Part 5 Grace's room was quite large, but felt oddly tiny since she shared it with two of her sisters. That was usually the first thing that Grace thought before going to sleep, but today was different. She couldn't stop thinking about that night. How Wilhelm's eye's lit up. She wanted to see that again, more than anything.<br />
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"<i>But maybe that was the only time that would ever happen," </i>Grace thought. His whole personality had changed when Papa played the fiddle. When the music came on, he was warm and friendly. Thoughts like that whirled through Grace's head all night.<br />
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Can't wait to see what happens next!<br />
<br />
-LAUREN LOVES PIE<br />
<i> </i><br />
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<i> </i><br />
<i><br /></i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16248589881680592006noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5649180402600409834.post-38230869151001846772013-03-08T07:29:00.002-08:002013-03-08T15:20:47.973-08:00A Friend for Grace: Part Four<i>Hello girls! Emma (Masse:) here with part four! I hope you like it!</i><br />
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Once in her own room, (actually, the room that she shared with Lily and Margaret) Grace threw herself onto her bed, her thoughts swirling round and round. <i>Why is Wilhelm here? Will he stay long? What is he really like? </i>Then, a sudden thought struck Grace and she smiled. "Maybe, just maybe, he's the brother that I've been praying for!" For a long time, Grace had prayed and asked God for a brother. When He had given her twin sisters instead, she prayed even harder. Maybe now, her prayer was being answered in a most unexpected way. </div>
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At the dinner table that night, Wilhelm didn't say anything-just nodded yes or no and shoveled food in like he hadn't eaten in days. Grace herself only picked at the chicken, mashed potatoes and creamed carrots-her favorite. She managed to eat some of the rice pudding for dessert-to please her mother. After they had all finished eating, Grace, her mother and her sisters rose to clear the table. As Grace carried dishes back to the kitchen, she heard her papa, trying to talk with Wilhelm, trying to get him to open up a little, but it was no use. He remained as quiet as a mouse, and he looked like one too-so shy and small, Grace guessed him to be of about eleven or twelve, around her own age. As she dried the dishes her sisters handed her, she thought again of the thought that had occurred to her in her bedroom. She imagined her and Wilhelm racing each other across fields in the spring, riding horses together down woodsy trails, and maybe even playing some baseball, when she could sneak past her mother's watchful eye. She looked at Wilhelm sitting at the table, his eyes downcast, his hands folded, and she hoped with all her heart that she would be right.</div>
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As soon as the dishes had been taken care of, the family eased themselves into comfortable positions in the parlor, the ladies bringing out knitting or sewing projects and Papa leaning back into his armchair to light his pipe. The fire crackled cheerily upon the hearth, and for a moment, Grace forgot all about Wilhelm-that is until she caught sight of him sitting on a small footstool, tucked away in a corner. She walked over to him and stood beside him. "Would you like to come sit with us?" she asked quietly. Wilhelm looked up at her, a puzzled expression on her face. Then Grace remembered-he didn't speak English! He was from Germany! <i>Oh dear, this is going to be difficult! </i>thought Grace. She smiled again at Wilhelm, and motioned with her hand towards the fire. Wilhelm shook his head, his eyes still on her face. She nodded her head and walked back to her seat. "Well!" Papa declared after a few moments. "Who's up for a little music?" "We are! Oh, please Papa!" Lily and Margaret cried. Grace herself grinned and joined in the pleading. Papa's green eyes twinkled as he carefully pulled the fiddle out of it's beautiful brown case. This was Grace's favorite part of the day-the time her father seemed to come out of his shell. After tuning it and plucking a few strings, he played a lively tune he had learned as a boy. At once, Lily and Margaret jumped up and began to dance with each other. Trula and Evie, both teenagers, considered themselves far above child's play. Even though Grace considered herself to old for games as well, she smiled and allowed herself to be pulled into the small ring and danced and laughed until she was out of breath. When Papa had finished that, he played a German folk song-another one that he had learned as a boy. As soon as he heard the tune, Wilhelm's eyes lit up and his foot began to tap to the music. Again, Grace walked over to him, but this time, she didn't have to say anything. He jumped up and grabbed her hand and whirled her around the room. Then he let go and began dancing by himself-a complicated dance, full of twists and turns. Grace's mama quickly reached for a hankie and Papa smile was so wide, Grace feared his face might burst. Lily and Margaret shyly crept over to watch and Wilhelm danced with them too. Trula and Evie stayed seated, but their pretty faces were lighted with smiles as well. They danced and danced and Papa played and played and finally the song ended. Wilhelm sat down again, but this time, his cheeks were pink and his eyes sparkled. <i>Maybe this won't be so hard after all! </i>Grace smiled to herself-maybe Wilhelm was the answer to her prayers</div>
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I hope you enjoyed it! I can't wait to see what happens next!!</div>
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{Emma}</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5649180402600409834.post-85078919079728399322013-03-04T14:52:00.004-08:002013-06-03T18:18:53.854-07:00A Friend for Grace: Part 3Once Papa had all of the horses prepared for their ride home, he beckoned for Grace and Wilhelm to come. Grace couldn't help but smile and just imagine the life ahead of her, with Wilhelm. She knew that it would be very different with another person living with them, but she could just feel that it was a <i>good</i> different. <br />
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Once they arrived home, Grace showed Wilhelm the guest room, where he would be staying. She helped him unpack, and get settled in. She tried to be as kind as possible, and tried to get him to smile. However, he still couldn't understand her and showed no emotions of sadness, or happiness.</div>
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Grace decided he might just want to be alone, so she left the room without saying a word.</div>
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xx emma || <a href="http://emmakate101.blogspot.com/">http://emmakate101.blogspot.com</a></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5649180402600409834.post-10229537423438010762012-12-22T17:28:00.000-08:002012-12-22T17:35:53.222-08:00A Friend for Grace... Part 2<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Mama,” I whisper, “why’d we come to town today?” More importantly, why are we at the train station? She doesn't answer me or maybe she didn't hear me. I glance around, trying to find a clue as to why we’re here. I find nothing. If I had the courage to ask Papa, I would-- but I’m not in the mood to hear him snap at me to “hush up.”<br />
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>A newspaper stand next to the ticket booth-- if it could be called that-- snags my attention and, suddenly, I know why we’re here: to see the German immigrants arriving today, Tuesday. I’d read about it a couple of days ago in Papa’s newspaper. One question solved, a new one unanswered: why are we here to see the German immigrants? To greet them? No way. Papa is <i>not</i> the greeting sort-- he doesn't even say “good morning.” To be honest, if it wasn't for mama, my four sisters and I would die from lack of love.<br />
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>A distant <i>hoot!</i> snakes into my thoughts, indicating that the answer to my question is to arrive soon. Looking at my sisters, I notice that they’re puzzled too and, yet, like me, they ask no questions. Correction: I did ask one-- but it wasn't answered, so that doesn't count. Hearing the <i>hoot!</i> closer, I devote my attention to the mammoth, black monster charging our way. Definitely scary looking. But what scares me more is the mystery the black monster will soon reveal. <i>Positive thoughts, Grace, and stop being overly dramatic.</i><br />
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The train halts, emitting an ear-splitting screech. I wince. A small group of people straggle off the train. Definitely German. I scrutinize each person, viewing them as a possible threat. Or maybe I‘m just curious. Eventually, they all move away from the platform-- all except one boy clutching a small carpet bag, his eyes darting furtively from side to side.<br />
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Compassion fills my heart, then quickly fades away as Papa moves swiftly to the frightened boy and exchanges a few words with him. Maybe frightened is not the best word to describe him. Vulnerable yet strong is more fitting. There's a matureness about him that clashes with his young age-- maybe a year or two younger than me.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Papa reaches us, the boy at his side. He thrusts the boy forward. “This is Wilhelm,” Papa says in his usual brusque voice, “he will stay with us for an indefinite amount of time. His parents died on the voyage here to America. He’ll earn his stay by helping out on the farm.” Translation: he’ll become Papa’s slave. The pieces slam together in my brain. How many times had I heard Papa complain about having five daughters and no sons to help out with the farm? That the farm was too much for one man to manage by himself? Well, not quite by himself.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Protectiveness rises in my chest. It doesn't matter that Wilhelm is a stranger, he had just suffered a terrible loss. <i>I will do all in my power to comfort you-- even if it means doing double my share of chores. </i>It’s clear that mama and my sisters feel the same way as they make up for Papa’s coldness by welcoming Wilhelm warmly and embracing him. I stand in front of Wilhelm and beam my brightest smile. Taking his hand, I give it a warm shake. My welcome needs no words, I doubt he would understand me anyway.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>His eyes lose some of their iciness, but he doesn't smile. I release his hand and look around for Papa. He must have slipped off to prepare the horses for the journey back home. It’s just as well, I wouldn't want him overhearing my next words. I take hold of Wilhelm’s hand once again and peer into his pale blue eyes. “Wilhelm, I’m so sorry about your parents and I’m sure you must be frightened in this strange land all by yourself,” I say slowly, not caring that he probably doesn't understand me. These words must be said out loud. “I promise to care for and comfort you. I always wanted a brother,”-- I smile,--“and I pray that one day we’ll become the best of friends.” And, who knows?, you just might be the miracle I prayed for, to show Papa what it means to truly love.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5649180402600409834.post-8863848382049341382012-11-02T13:13:00.002-07:002012-11-02T13:14:22.696-07:00A Friend For Grace.... Part 1I remember the day exactly. The first day of Fall, of the year 1867. 7:38 A.M.<br />
<br />
I was sitting at my desk, writing. I love writing on days filled with sunshine and good weather.<br />
Looking out my window, I could just feel and see the events of Fall happening already.<br />
<br />
"Grace!" Mother called. <br />
"Coming!" <br />
<br />
When I came from downstairs, Mother was waiting for me, as usual, so she could immediately tell me what needs to be done so I could start helping. <br />
<br />
"Grace, I need you to get some eggs for breakfast, and feed the chickens, your Father<br />
refilled the bucket with the feed last night, and said for you to give them three scoops<br />
in the bucket, and to give them water." Said Mother.<br />
<br />
"Alright!" answered Grace.<br />
"You seem in a very joyful mood this morning Grace!"<br />
"Yes! I love Fall!"<br />
"Well we have a quite a bit of things to do so you will need it!"<br />
"Okay Mother." <br />
<br />
As I went outside, I just wanted to stop and glance at this wonderful season God had given us.<br />
But, then I remembered, breakfast, and the chickens. So I hurried off, and feed the chickens, three scoops exactly, just as Father asked. And gave them water, collected the eggs, and headed to the house. <br />
<br />
"Here you are Mother!" As I handed her the collection basket filled with enough eggs to feed our family of seven. <br />
<br />
"Thank you Grace!" said Mother.<br />
"Your Welcome!"<br />
"Grace, could you start dusting the sitting room?"<br />
"Yes."<br />
"Thank you dear Grace! I don`t know what I would do without you some days!"<br />
<br />
As I walked into the sitting room, I picked up the duster, and started to dust. <br />
When I headed over to the tall wooden drawer cabinet, I saw a newspaper for that day.<br />
I assumed it was Fathers from this morning. I picked it up, and read the headline.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"IMMIGRANTS FROM GERMANY</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> ARRIVING TUESDAY!"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">To Be Continued.....</span>Aaliyah Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05179476212159749132noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5649180402600409834.post-27665919893437048672012-08-03T10:57:00.002-07:002012-08-03T10:57:48.381-07:00Thank You!Thank you, girls, for making Hiding from Royalty such an awesome story!! You guys did great!<br />
<br />
Kianna Rose, you get to start the next story!<br />
<br />
It can be any time period, any place, with any characters. It's all up to you! Have fun!<br />
<br />
~Kathryn<br />
<br />
<br />Kathrynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14341486923447415490noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5649180402600409834.post-70350446070419162122012-08-02T08:29:00.001-07:002012-08-02T08:29:30.764-07:00They EndRobert pulled the arrow out and saw it said M.O.J.
All three girls started running.
It was to late,The guards were everywhere.
They did not look like normal guards.
The all had something covering their face and it was only black cloth.
They had mainly daggers,but some had bow and arrows.
An hour later the merry men were all tied up to trees.
Robert was tied up too.
Hannah and Isabella were on the back of a horse with another man.
Maria was tied to the front of a horse.
The guards with their horses rode off.
All the girls screamed.
Then the man with the 2 sisters on his horse said "Girls it's okay".
We are the Men Of Justice.
Just then he took of his mask.
It was father!!!
"Daddy"!
"Father"!!
"Girls be quiet".
"We do not want the guards to here you".
"Yes,Father".
Then, he gave a wink to they other men.
They took of their masked too.
The man that had Maria was her father.
"We must go back" said Hannah.
"Why", asked father.
"Rob and his men are tied up. You see,they helped us escape.
They were on our side.If we never go back then they would soon escape."
"So"?
"Then they would go to the castle because they thought you were guards.
They think were in the castle locked up.
"You are right".
My father asked another man something.
Then that man rode of.
A long time after ,He came back with Rob and his men behind him.
We all said our good bye's and took of.
Our horse headed towards home.
We got there and Mother was waiting outside.
She ran up and gave us all a hug.
They End.
I started this story and want to give you some true history that I got from Wikipedia.
John's personal life impacted heavily on his reign. Contemporary chroniclers state that John was sinfully lustful and lacking in piety.[121] It was common for kings and nobles of the period to keep mistresses, but chroniclers complained that John's mistresses were married noblewomen, which was considered unacceptable.[121] John had at least five children with mistresses during his first marriage to Isabelle of Gloucester, and two of those mistresses are known to have been noblewomen.[122] John's behaviour after his second marriage to Isabella is less clear, however. None of John's known illegitimate children were born after he remarried, and there is no actual documentary proof of adultery after that point, although John certainly had female friends amongst the court throughout the period.[123]
<b>The character of John's relationship with his second wife, Isabella of Angoulême, is unclear. John married Isabella whilst she was relatively young – her exact date of birth is uncertain, and estimates place her between at most 12 and more probably towards nine years old at the time of her marriage.[125][nb 13] Even by the standards of the time, Isabella was married whilst very young.[126] John did not provide a great deal of money for his wife's household and did not pass on much of the revenue from her lands, to the extent that historian Nicholas Vincent has described him as being "downright mean" towards Isabella.[127] Vincent concluded that the marriage was not a particularly "amicable" one.[128] Other aspects of their marriage suggest a closer, more positive relationship. Chroniclers recorded that John had a "mad infatuation" with Isabella, and certainly John had conjugal relationships with Isabella between at least 1207 and 1215; they had five children.[129] In contrast to Vincent, historian William Chester Jordan concludes that the pair were a "companionable couple" who had a successful marriage by the standards of the day.[130]</b>
John's lack of religious conviction has been noted by contemporary chroniclers and later historians, with some suspecting that John was at best impious, or even atheistic, a very serious issue at the time.[131] Contemporary chroniclers catalogued his various anti-religious habits at length, including his failure to take communion, his blasphemous remarks, and his witty but scandalous jokes about church doctrine, including jokes about the implausibility of the Resurrection. They commented on the paucity of John's charitable donations to the church.[132] Historian Frank McLynn argues that John's early years at Fontevrault, combined with his relatively advanced education, may have turned him against the church.[18] Other historians have been more cautious in interpreting this material, noting that chroniclers also reported John's personal interest in the life of St Wulfstan of Worcester and his friendships with several senior clerics, most especially with Hugh of Lincoln, who was later declared a saint.[133] Financial records show a normal royal household engaged in the usual feasts and pious observances – albeit with many records showing John's offerings to the poor to atone for routinely breaking church rules and guidance.[134]Ailihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11310631174811367347noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5649180402600409834.post-88858613436489828662012-07-02T11:58:00.002-07:002012-07-02T11:58:39.949-07:00Hiding From Royalty, Part 17 Hiding from Royalty, Part 17, by <a href="http://chattykathy-kathryn.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Kathryn</a><br />
<br />
Rob's blue eyes looked at the three helpless girls. <br />
<br />
<i>Three children,</i> he thought.<i> Three children being chased by Royal Guards of the evil King John. This ought not be! Why should young children be kidnapped to work in fields of cotton and grain? Why? </i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
"Sir? Whom did you promise?" Maria asked again. He turned and looked earnestly in the girl's faces.<br />
<br />
"Hannah and Isabella's mother."<br />
<br />
"Mother?" Hannah exclaimed. "Where did you see her?"<br />
<br />
"Wandering through the woods, calling out Hannah's name. She was crying so, and we knew she needed our help. That's when she told us how her two daughters and husband and been kidnapped by King John, that brute. Now, she didn't tell me about you." He knelt down in front of Maria.<br />
<br />
"This is Maria, another girl who was kidnapped. She escaped with us." Isabella squeezed her new friend's hand.<br />
<br />
"Ah, I see. Well, we must get going! We have a rather long hike back to your home." Rob stood up. <br />
<br />
"Sir Hood? Who is we? I mean, are you traveling alone?" Hannah asked, looking admiringly at the man's bright green outfit and large bow and arrow. <br />
<br />
"Certainly not." Suddenly, Robert whistled loudly. From behind bushes and trees appeared the faces of many men, dressed similar to Rob.<br />
<br />
"These, my fair ladies, are my merry men."<br />
<br />
<br />
****<br />
<br />
Isabella staggered along, trampling the brush that was in her way. They had been traveling through the woods for an hour at least, and she was exhausted.<br />
<br />
"How much further, Rob?"<br />
<br />
"Oh, we're a few miles away. Would you like to stop and take a rest?" Isabella nodded her head and sank against the base of a moss covered tree.<br />
<br />
While the merry men laughed and told jokes, Isabella closed her eyes and rested. She had just started to nod off, when a high-pitched, whizzing, noise sounded. She opened her eyes and shrieked in fear as an arrow cracked the bark of the tree right above her head.<br />
<br />
<br />
To be Continued!!!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Kathrynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14341486923447415490noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5649180402600409834.post-53305843111296373892012-06-17T15:28:00.006-07:002012-06-17T15:28:58.336-07:00Hiding from Royalty Part 16<i>~Hiding from Royalty, Part 16, By Hannah~ </i><br />
<i> </i><br />
<i> </i>Hannah, in fear's tight grip, managed to calm down. Angrily she swung her head, pulling her hair from the knight's hands. She had sense enough to heed his threat and didn't try to run. But her fear kindled the fire of anger burning inside her, urging words from her throat. " 'Live to see morning' " she spat, "So now King John is killing innocent girls!"<br />
<br />
The knight's large fingers closed around her slim wrist. Hannah smothered a cry of pain. The knight ,surprisingly kind, explained, "You were trying to escape. A penalty charged by death." Before Hannah could reply ,the once kind voice, turned demanding. He rotated his head just enough so that he was facing the still pursing knights. "Go back to your posts before "Highness" catches us all here!"<br />
<br />
He released Hannah's wrist and placed his hand on a sword hanging by his side. Motioning to Isabella and Maria, watching a couple feet away, he asked noncommittally "Your friends?" Hannah, horrified by his calmness, swung to face him, "No you, you, you brute! <u>That</u> is my SISTER!"<br />
<br />
Reaching them they all formed a small huddle. The knights kind voice returned "An introduction to you ladies is at hand. I am Sir Hood." With a glance around he added carefully, "But you may call me...Robert Hood...or if you rather just Rob will suit me fine."<br />
<br />
He finished with a grin as he read the girls surprised faces. Hannah began, most politely, " Oh! You must accept my apology. I was ever so rude. and I had no idea..I mean..that..." ,but ended a little confused. Robert smoothed the awkward feeling with a large laugh, which he quickly ended, as to not attract other knights.<br />
<br />
Isabella was excited at the sound of a name she had often heard her parents talk about. "You mean THE Robert Hood? Right, Rob? You are here to help us?" She finished unsure. A nod from Hood and the color returned to their pale faces. " I must get you girls somewhere safe. You are now my responsibility. I promised." Maria started, quiet and shy. "Sir Hood, Who did you promise?"<br />
<br />
<i>~To be Continued...</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5649180402600409834.post-29608388858128656422012-06-15T16:59:00.000-07:002012-06-19T13:29:52.107-07:00Hiding From Royalty Part 15 When the girls were hiding behind the tree, they heard the clanging of armor. They knew that there was a very slim chance they would escape. Hannah said to Maria and Isabella, "On 3, run," she said,"1,2...3!" They ran as fast as they could to nowhere in particular.<br />
<br />
Soon the knights caught up to them. Hannah looked to see them, and she saw that out of nowhere the knights had multiplied rapidly. There were about 14 on their tracks!<br />
<br />
One knight ran a little faster than the others. He caught up to the girls easily, and grabbed Hannah by the hair and dragged her back as fast as he could. The knight said,"Come back and you're little friend will live to see the morning!"<br />
<br />
To be continued...Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16248589881680592006noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5649180402600409834.post-58599819377341402352012-06-11T16:40:00.000-07:002012-06-11T16:40:09.226-07:00Welcome, Hannah!Welcome, to the 13th contributor, Hannah!!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqXKoK-IAZH2yOzp7LZmW6gMJKqmIHtxFARl3gSzJimfMVyHocLRlYOrok2UdVdrRLf0GYeQtU6GZ82x_v_q-hmxbDna8Vf5j_ArP7Q-kakFFFMUW_CyLh8ZYXN25OOAUvRevhcd2GnWOk/s1600/TPA+Girls+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqXKoK-IAZH2yOzp7LZmW6gMJKqmIHtxFARl3gSzJimfMVyHocLRlYOrok2UdVdrRLf0GYeQtU6GZ82x_v_q-hmxbDna8Vf5j_ArP7Q-kakFFFMUW_CyLh8ZYXN25OOAUvRevhcd2GnWOk/s400/TPA+Girls+1.JPG" width="266" /></a></div>
<br />
She has one blog:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://hannahbanana2699.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Life is a Sample</a><br />
<br />
Please go check it out!!<br />
<br />
We're looking forward to your parts, Hannah!<br />
<br />
Love,<br />
KathrynKathrynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14341486923447415490noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5649180402600409834.post-26309132996375021772012-06-10T17:12:00.000-07:002012-06-10T17:12:22.630-07:00Hiding from royalty part 14Written By:Danielle<br />
<br />
All of the girls were so terrified when the bar fell. "What are we going to do?!" Maria exclaimed in a whisper. "Is anyone over there?!" shouted a knight. "Girls be quiet." whispered Hannah. "Oh no! We are going to get caught!" Isabella said in a soft but terrified voice. Maria turned her head and all of a sudden, she saw a knight. "Run girls, Run!" Shouted Hannah. They all jumped off the ledge and ran as fast as they could not trying to look back at three more knights. "Stop immediately!" Said 1 knight. "Run!" Shouted Isabella. Maria ran so fast she was getting very tired and out of breath. Maria, slowing down, almost fell but told herself, <em>Come on Maria, this is for your friends father. Keep going. </em>The knights bolted as fast as they could. Maria, Hannah, and Isabella were all so dull and wanted to stop. "Hide behind this tree girls!" whispered Hannah to the girls. The knights were way behind them. They all hid behind the tree trying to keep warm in the brisk wind.<br />
<br />
Will Hannah, Maria, and Isabella get caught? Will they be able to save Hannah and Isabella's father?<br />
<br />
To be continued...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5649180402600409834.post-31672626841602616722012-06-09T10:33:00.002-07:002012-06-09T10:33:11.624-07:00Welcome, Lauren!Welcome, Lauren!!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6q6RiXkg8vRxvIylN9HYwfq_Aln1TE8fQljYW6kKk-7G4hF965j2OgPEyRjnpeaVwDPrlRKpgmVpXznhGnKvrg6z7T8FNZm-i20N3W2lfpiKLYMNhzdWniSUbGVJRLlpgfx3xiRZUt_0o/s1600/L+Christmas+Eve.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6q6RiXkg8vRxvIylN9HYwfq_Aln1TE8fQljYW6kKk-7G4hF965j2OgPEyRjnpeaVwDPrlRKpgmVpXznhGnKvrg6z7T8FNZm-i20N3W2lfpiKLYMNhzdWniSUbGVJRLlpgfx3xiRZUt_0o/s400/L+Christmas+Eve.jpg" width="225" /></a></div>
<br />
She has one blog:<br />
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1856861332"><br /></a><br />
<a href="http://laurens-weird-life.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Peace, Love and Pie</a><br />
<br />
Why not check it out? BTW, we have 12 wonderful contributors!!! How neat is that?<br />
<br />
Later,<br />
KathrynKathrynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14341486923447415490noreply@blogger.com6