tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76762269325880212832024-03-13T12:44:01.339-04:00Scribbles of a Writing Maverick Maverick: a lone dissenter, as an intellectual, or an artist who takes an independent stand apart from his or her associates.
A free thinker. A free spirit.Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12230323659737876041noreply@blogger.comBlogger89125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7676226932588021283.post-28532654756021837122015-07-08T15:04:00.000-04:002015-07-08T15:04:22.469-04:00Writing Encouragement Posting several times a week.....totally nailed that. *Facepalm*<br />
<br />
Let us move on.<br />
<br />
I thought today I would post a bit of encouragement for all you writers. One thing that I've struggled with is being afraid that my story is boring or predictable, or even both. Then I came across this on Pinterest and it helped me get a new perspective.<br />
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<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/0a/31/24/0a31248ee5f70126f5ce9f1b7020fd3e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/0a/31/24/0a31248ee5f70126f5ce9f1b7020fd3e.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Sure, I still might have to clean things up and come up with better plot twists, but that's a part of writing. Don't be afraid to give that story a shot. You might be surprised at the feedback you get.<br />
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<br />
God bless,<br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>~Amy Rochelle</b></span>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12230323659737876041noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7676226932588021283.post-375227122636230892015-06-04T00:25:00.002-04:002015-06-04T00:27:55.286-04:00Life UpdateI HAVE RETURNED!<br />
<br />
Goodness, I've missed you all.<br />
<br />
I graduate from high school this Saturday. Super excited for that! In the meantime, I have two summer classes that just started. In the fall I'll be going to a local community college full-time.<br />
<br />
I also got my very first job working in the deli of a local grocery store. It's always busy. The more I learn, the more I'm enjoying it.<br />
<br />
I completed the first draft of my novel <i><b><a href="https://www.pinterest.com/writingmaverick/somnia-storyboard/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #38761d;">Somnia</span></a></b></i>! I'll be posting chapters on <a href="http://www.wattpad.com/user/WritingMaverick1996" target="_blank"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>wattpad </b></span></a>soon.<br />
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With the new blog look comes a new schedule. Unfortunately I won't be able to post daily as I did before. I'll be keeping the topics along the lines of what I used to do (story pieces, writing advice, etc...), but this time I'll only be posting when time allows. I plan on posting several times a week--we'll see how that goes.<br />
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God bless!<br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>~Amy Rochelle</b></span>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12230323659737876041noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7676226932588021283.post-36007509402511269862015-05-14T13:33:00.000-04:002015-05-14T13:33:41.501-04:00A Work in ProgressHey guys! Sadly, I haven't had the chance to post on my poor neglected blog over this past week. As a peace offering, I present to you: chapter two of <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/writingmaverick/white-wings-storyboard/" target="_blank"><i><b><span style="color: #38761d;">White Wings</span></b></i></a>!<br />
<br />
Read <b><a href="http://www.wattpad.com/129256078-white-wings-chapter-two" target="_blank"><span style="color: #38761d;">here</span></a></b>.<br />
<br />
<br />
God bless,<br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>-Amy Rochelle</b></span>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12230323659737876041noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7676226932588021283.post-19466023489828281742015-05-04T12:56:00.001-04:002015-05-04T12:58:20.094-04:00So I finally made oneHey guys! I finally got around to creating a Wattpad account to post my complete stories. So far I've put up a short story and the first chapter of my novel <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/writingmaverick/white-wings-storyboard/" target="_blank"><i><b><span style="color: #38761d;">White Wings</span></b></i></a>. More to come!<br />
<br />
See chapter <a href="http://www.wattpad.com/story/38995817-white-wings" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: #38761d;">here</span></b></a>.<br />
<br />
<br />
God bless,<br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>~Amy Rochelle</b></span>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12230323659737876041noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7676226932588021283.post-84007263941475899752015-05-03T23:42:00.004-04:002015-05-03T23:42:57.314-04:00Story Starter Sundays #14<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Featured writing prompts from <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/writingmaverick/" target="_blank">Pinterest</a>. </span></div>
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<a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/ea/bb/f4/eabbf4b938f3a17c74f2206e6ad909f2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/ea/bb/f4/eabbf4b938f3a17c74f2206e6ad909f2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />
God bless,<br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>~Amy Rochelle</b></span>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12230323659737876041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7676226932588021283.post-79682233810641805942015-04-27T15:24:00.000-04:002015-04-27T15:29:41.793-04:00Which Do You Like Better?<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Hey guys! I have decided to go back and work through my latest draft of </span><a href="https://www.pinterest.com/writingmaverick/white-wings-storyboard/" style="font-family: inherit;" target="_blank"><i><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>White Wings</b></span></i></a><span style="font-family: inherit;"> and I need your opinion. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Should I keep it in first person narration? Or should I change it to third person?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>First person (original):</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I felt a presence
behind me and turned. Cole stood with a
deep scowl on his face. I could sense
his quiet anger, and it frightened me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Why are you
talking with a Kril?” he asked me in a tone lower than I had ever heard him
speak. I winced at his use of the harsh
term. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Don’t call him
that,” I said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“He has no
wings. There really isn’t a difference.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Rilind is not a
criminal, Cole,” I shot back. Cole
flashed me a wicked glare. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Why are you
defending him? Hasn’t your family been disgraced enough? You should be grateful
I’m still talking to you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Third person:</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rae felt a presence behind her and turned. Cole stood with a deep scowl on his face, his anger evident and frightening. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Why are you talking with a Kril?” he asked in a tone lower than he'd ever spoken. Rae winced at his use of the harsh term.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Don’t call him that,” she said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“He has no wings. There really isn’t a difference.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Rilind is not a criminal, Cole,” Rae shot back. Cole flashed a wicked glare.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Why are you defending him? Hasn’t your family been disgraced enough? You should be grateful I’m still talking to you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Thank you so much for your help!</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">God bless,</span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>~Amy Rochelle</b></span></div>
Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12230323659737876041noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7676226932588021283.post-46890933616839452892015-04-24T14:37:00.001-04:002015-04-24T14:37:52.552-04:00Funny Fridays #14<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">A little humor can go a long way. </span><br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/XGOjlQbIM2w/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/XGOjlQbIM2w?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
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God bless,<br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>~Amy Rochelle</b></span>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12230323659737876041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7676226932588021283.post-3588351702441822732015-04-19T10:33:00.002-04:002015-04-19T10:39:58.916-04:00A Short StoryHey guys! Sorry I haven't been able to post as regularly as I had hoped. With summer and high school graduation coming, it's both an exciting time and a stressful time as I work to get everything finished.<br />
<br />
I am part of a homeschool Honor Society, and for the induction ceremony I will be presenting a 2,072 word short story based on a picture selected by my fellow members.<br />
<br />
Here is the picture they chose:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/fe/9b/a2/fe9ba2e30fda567415a5e9227a18577a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/fe/9b/a2/fe9ba2e30fda567415a5e9227a18577a.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Pinterest)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<u><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">The Thirteenth
Hour<o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> So this was the secret place he’d heard whispers
about. And it was full of….clocks. How fascinating. He’d hoped for something a
little more…magical? Lucrative? Worthwhile? Not something that would remind him
how late he was for everything. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> Liam walked along the catwalk, absently
counting the difference clocks as he passed. Why would anyone talk about this
place at all? It was gigantic and that was kinda cool…but so what? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> The constant ticking of the clocks, while
rhythmic, were not in sync. It created a discombobulated atmosphere; chaotic,
and alive. He changed his mind. The place wasn’t cool at all…it was eerie. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> That’s when the chimes of the hour started.
Not all at once. The chorus began with a few, and then grew louder as every
clock joined in. The bongs pounded in his head, the volume proportionate to the
size of the clocks. Liam covered his ears in a feeble attempt to block out the
chimes, but he could still feel them slamming against his skull. Sneaking in at
midnight was probably not the best idea, for the bells continued on, and on,
and on. At last, every clock fell silent. All but one. As if determined to have
a solo, this clock had only just begun to count to twelve. Liam uncovered his
ears and turned to watch the delayed clock. It was the biggest one; its face
milky white. Despite its size, the chimes were friendly, almost delicate. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> One…two…three…four…<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">A strange clicking sound reverberated as
the big hand and little hand aligned. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> <i>Five…six…seven…eight…<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> Another sound came from within. This
one a low bang, something like a hammer falling on wood. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> <i>Nine…ten…eleven…twelve…<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> Liam finished counting the number of
tolls and waited for another sound. He didn’t have to wait long, but the sound
was not what he expected. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> The clock struck a thirteenth time
and everything stilled. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> He frowned and walked up to the
railing to study the clock in front of him. Peering up at the roman numerals,
he noticed not two numerals after the X in twelve, but three. There was no
mistake. The clock really had chimed a thirteenth hour. There was some something
strange about that last numeral. It looked like there was….a handle? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> Liam jumped back at a sharp clicking
sound. The third numeral after the X slowly swung inward. It was a door. A grin
slowly spread across his face. Now THIS was something worth whispering about. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> He climbed the railing and was about
to jump onto the clock when he realized that he didn’t have to. Hidden just to
the side of the clock face was a staircase that went all the way to the door. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> Empowered with excitement, Liam flew
up the stairs and reached the door, breathless. But his expectations were not
rewarded. The door opened to nothing but a black void. No shiny treasure, no
secret hideout. Nothing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> He pushed his arm through the
opening to see if anything was there. He was only met with cold air. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> “Hello?” His voice echoed deep. He
glanced down. How far did it go? On a whim, Liam reached down and his hand
touched something solid. Tentatively, he stepped through, the blackness
accepting him. He shivered and hugged himself. An updraft blew in front of him
and he came to a sudden stop. Just one step further and he would have fallen. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> Lights blinked on and he lifted his
hand to shield his eyes. Sure enough, there was an immediate drop directly
ahead. Still behind him was a giant clock. With great confusion and
disappointment, he realized that he was standing on the same catwalk in front
of the same hundreds of clocks as before. The third numeral in the thirteen was
still open; a doorway to nothing. Had he turned in a circle? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> A voice made him freeze. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> “There’s someone there!” The voice
said, female. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> “It worked?” Another voice, this one
a boy, sounded surprised. More lights flickered on, revealing a mass of people
gathered on a platform across from him. Liam stared. That hadn’t been there
before. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> “What dimension are you from?” The
girl called. She had on a strange jumpsuit. In fact, they all wore strange
clothes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> “I’m sorry?” Liam called back. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> “Oh, you know…dimension…universe…planet…”
The boy returned. He sounded disinterested, maybe even a little annoyed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> “Um…I’m from earth?” Liam relied. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> Silence. The people started whispering
to each other. Liam leaned forward as far as he dared in an attempt to catch
parts of the conversation. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> “…you miscalculated again.” One said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> “We should put him with the others.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> A little to the left was a bridge
connecting the catwalk to the platform. Liam started down it, but no one seemed
to notice him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> “Excuse me!” He called out, alerting them.
They all stopped whispering and looked at him. Liam hesitated, suddenly feeling
quite exposed with everyone’s attention on him all at once. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> “Who are you?” Liam asked the people. They
looked normal except for their clothes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> “I think,” began an old man. “The real
question is: who are <i>you</i>?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> “Me?” Liam gestured to himself. “I don’t
understand. Where did you people come from?” The old man chuckled. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> “I think I see the problem. You don’t
understand what’s going on.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> Liam just blinked at him. Of course not!
He was still very confused. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> The old man spread his arms out grandly.
“Welcome to the future.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> Liam didn’t think he was serious. The man
noticed the suspicious look on Liam’s face and explained. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> “We’ve been trying to connect a portal to
a new dimension, but so far we’ve only managed to reach the past. You went
through the thirteenth numeral of a clock, am I correct?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Liam nodded mutely. The man led the girl
over. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> “Why don’t you take this boy to the room,
yes?” he asked of her. She nodded and took Liam’s hand. He quickly pulled away.
These people made him uncomfortable.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> “Why don’t I just go back?” He suggested.
“I really don’t need to stay…” But Liam no longer had a choice. He was escorted
to the room with a firm hand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> The room was decorated only with a couch,
a few beanbag chairs, and a TV. The people inside interested him, though they hardly
looked up when he was pushed inside. A lock clicked into place behind him. He
was a prisoner. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> Liam stood awkwardly near the door, not
sure what to do or say. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> “What year are you from?” One of the boys
sitting on the beanbags asked. It took Liam a moment to register what exactly
the boy meant. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> “2015,” he replied. The boy looked
pleasantly surprised. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> “Me too.” He jumped up to his feet and
walked over. “Hey, you wanna help me get out of here?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> Liam backed up a little, no longer feeling
so underwhelmed. “How long have you been locked up here?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> The boy gave a lazy shrug. “There’s no way
of knowing. Hundreds of years if you look at it chronologically, but obviously I’m
not hundreds of years old. I’ve been here—what—two years, give or take?
Traveling through time is weird like that.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> “Why won’t they let you leave?” Liam
asked, dropping his voice to a whisper. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> “Not sure. Probably so they can remember
what times in history they’ve gone to. They’re still dead set on reaching other
dimensions.” He sighed dramatically. “It’s not gunna happen people.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> “Why not just write it down?” Liam asked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> “I don’t know. Maybe they’re saving us for
a documentary.” The boy then pulled Liam aside. “You came in through a clock,
right?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> Liam nodded. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> “Good. We’ll have until the hour’s up
before the portal closes. That’s our only chance to get back to our time. Who
knows when they’ll open back to 2015 again?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Liam glanced at the others. They were
happily distracted by the program on the TV. “What about them?” he asked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> “They’re all from difference decades, some
centuries,” the boy explained. “Only you and I are from 2015. Come on, we don’t
have much time.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> The boy’s plan to get out was simple.
Knock, and then run out when the door opened. And the plan would have worked
flawlessly—if someone had actually come when they knocked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> “Now what do we do?” Liam asked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> “Uh….” The boy looked around the room. “Air
vent.” He pointed up near the ceiling. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> “We won’t be able to fit in that,” Liam
realized. The boy wrinkled his nose, shrugged, and started walking over to it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> That’s when the door opened. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> “Switching back to plan A!” The boy
announced as he slammed into the person at the door. “Go, go, go!” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> Liam ran from the room and down the narrow
hallway, pausing only to wait for the other boy to catch up. He ran past Liam,
taking the lead. When they got to the platform, there was no one there. Liam
turned his head back and forth, searching for the clocks. There was nothing.
Only darkness. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> “How much time do we have?” The boy asked.
Liam glanced down at the watch on his wrist. Assuming the thirteenth hour was
the same as midnight on his watch, they had about…three minutes until 1 am. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> The boy found a switch and flipped it. The
clocks became illuminated in a dim glow, the light also revealing the bridge
from the platform to the catwalk. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> “Hurry!” he cried, already running across
it. Liam didn’t have to be told twice, but he didn’t have a chance to get far. The
old man from before emerged onto the platform and caught hold of Liam’s arm.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> “How did you get out?” he demanded. Liam
wrenched his arm out of the man’s grip and stumbled onto the bridge. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> Two
minutes until 1 am. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> Instead of chasing him, the old man turned
and shut off the lights. Everywhere but the platform went dark. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> “Over here!” It sounded like the boy had
made it to the clock. Liam turned towards the voice and inched forward, using
the railing as a guide. It seemed as though the bridge went on forever. Step
after step, it didn’t feel like he was getting closer. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> One
minute until 1 am. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> Gears started turning. The clock was
preparing to strike the hour; the door beginning to close. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> “You’re going to have to run!” The boy
called out from somewhere up ahead. Liam did run. He bashed against the
metalwork, even stumbled a few times, but he kept moving forward. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> Seconds
until 1 am. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> Liam reached out with his hands, ran past
the catwalk, and slammed into the stairs that would take him to the door in the
third numeral. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> He climbed the stairs, completely blind by
the darkness. 1 am had arrived. The thirteenth hour up. He was halfway up the stairs when a chorus of
bells chimed the hour. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;">Liam called out for the boy, never
stopping. He couldn’t be too late, he couldn’t! There was no answer. Nothing
but the constant ticking of the clocks around him. Mocking him. Liam was
notoriously late for everything, why not this?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> Not willing to accept defeat, he pressed
on and reached the top of the stairs. He couldn’t see it, but he knew the
thirteenth numeral was there in front of him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> He froze and held his breath. A draft blew
in his face. He reached out blindly with his hand and found that the door was
still open. No time to question it, Liam crawled through. He clung to the new
set of stairs, stairs from 2015, and looked back in the brighter light at the
clock face. There was the boy, straining with effort, holding the large hand
back. Once he saw that Liam was through, he released the hand and it lurched
forward, striking 1 am. A long, loud toll. A lonely bell, unaccompanied by
others. The door swung tightly shut. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> The boy jumped down to the catwalk where
Liam was still sitting. He grinned and reached down to help him up. “And they
say time waits for no one.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> Liam grinned back and shook his head. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.0pt;"> They went their separate ways after that.
The boy returned home after having been missing for two years, and Liam went back
to his usual routine, although now he was careful to never be late for anything.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13pt;"> And from then on, every night at midnight,
he would hold his breath, listening to hear if his clock ever struck thirteen. </span><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
God bless, </div>
<div>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>~Amy Rochelle</b></span></div>
Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12230323659737876041noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7676226932588021283.post-46276279984418657072015-04-14T16:06:00.001-04:002015-04-14T16:11:06.489-04:00Two-Fifty Tuesdays #14<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Excerpts of my writing consisting of 250 words. No more. No less. </span><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
The following passage was taken from Chapter Seven of my novel, <i><a href="https://www.pinterest.com/writingmaverick/guinea-pig-maverick-storyboard/" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: #38761d;">Guinea Pig Maverick</span></b></a>. </i><br />
<div>
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/07/2a/08/072a08c44eed4dfa5c6236a4f90c1363.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/07/2a/08/072a08c44eed4dfa5c6236a4f90c1363.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Pinterest) </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> I raise my hands above my head in surrender. Mr. Dunne
reaches me first. </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He grabs one of my
arms and twists it around to my back, hiking it up so that I’m in pain. I wince
at his roughness, unprepared for it. The guard stops a few paces in front of
me, and aims the weapon at my face. After a pause, he puts it away and pulls
out a pair of handcuffs instead. I don’t resist. There’s no point.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> I’m led
over to the glass desk. The dog tags around my neck are removed and handed to
the woman. She types my information into the computer. Her eyebrows skyrocket. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “He’s
supposed to be testing robotic surgery equipment with Dr. Lahey.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> My stomach
churns. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Lahey has
him booked for all of next week as well.” Another look of surprise comes over
her face. “Would you look at that. Mister Carter here is human.” She hands the
tags back to the guard. “No wonder Lahey wants him. He won’t heal halfway
through the incisions.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> I think I
might throw up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Well
cancel it,” Mr. Dunne says while tightening his grip on me. “I’m taking him. If
Lahey has a problem with that, tell him he should learn to keep a better eye on
his subjects.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Did I just
become the object of a finders’-keepers’ argument? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> The woman
doesn’t protest. She types something on the computer. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “He’s all
yours.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> The guard
slips the tags back over my head and we walk. ...</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">God bless,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>~Amy Rochelle</b></span></div>
</div>
Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12230323659737876041noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7676226932588021283.post-58760346902808636872015-04-12T19:32:00.001-04:002015-04-12T19:32:35.301-04:00Story Starter Sundays #13<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Featured writing prompts from </span><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.pinterest.com/writingmaverick/">Pinterest</a></span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/0b/cf/b2/0bcfb2fbae7b0749c6d2d706930cc3d8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/0b/cf/b2/0bcfb2fbae7b0749c6d2d706930cc3d8.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
What if your imaginary friend was yourself from the future?<br />
Or did you realize that you are the imaginary friend to someone real?<br />
<br />
God bless,<br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>~Amy Rochelle</b></span>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12230323659737876041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7676226932588021283.post-27785010676796655122015-04-10T12:32:00.001-04:002015-04-10T12:32:05.473-04:00Funny Fridays #13<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">A little humor can go a long way. </span><br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/29/9e/b2/299eb286b3b0181b391ff0384b5c953b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/29/9e/b2/299eb286b3b0181b391ff0384b5c953b.jpg" width="184" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Pinterest)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Stay awake my friends! </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
God bless,</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>~Amy Rochelle</b></span></div>
Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12230323659737876041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7676226932588021283.post-6998481530782827682015-04-07T15:47:00.002-04:002015-04-07T15:47:46.474-04:00Two-Fifty Tuesdays #13<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Excerpts of my writing consisting of 250 words. No more. No less. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The following passage was taken from Chapter Twelve of my work in progress, <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/writingmaverick/somnia-storyboard/" target="_blank"><i><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>Somnia</b></span></i></a>. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/bd/dc/59/bddc59893489309e1733b79a21d54aff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/bd/dc/59/bddc59893489309e1733b79a21d54aff.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Pinterest)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> It’s about noon when the first wave
of exhaustion hits me. I suppose if I
were healthy and not in a hospital, I’d be able to pull an all-nighter no
problem. But this is different. My body is rejecting my plan. And I think the nurse slipped my medicine
into my lunch. My eyelids droop, feeling
heavy.</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Wiles!” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> I jump, my eyes flying open. Destiny is peering over me. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “What are you doing?” she asks. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Not sleeping,” I mutter. She just gives me a look. Okay, I have to admit, that one was awfully
close. I pick up a crayon again and try
writing, but it just turns into indecipherable scribbles and designs. Stay awake!
I look down at my paper and realize I’ve been writing those two words
over and over. I sigh and set the crayon
down. Not everything I write happens,
unfortunately. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> I manage to go another day and a
half without dreaming. I would like to
say I never fell asleep during that time, but I’m pretty sure I dozed off at
least half a dozen times. Destiny was always faithful to wake me up before it
was too late. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Jace returned my
journal as promised. I haven’t seen him
since. The people who claim to be my
parents have stopped by several times.
They exhaust me like nothing else.
Both of them—especially the mother—are only interested in talking about
Riley—the person I was. I’m sorry, but I
don’t care. I don’t remember ...</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">God bless,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>~Amy Rochelle</b></span></span>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12230323659737876041noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7676226932588021283.post-57865369553701138322015-04-02T22:37:00.003-04:002015-04-02T22:44:03.791-04:00Thingy Thursdays #10<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">A fascinating object that begged at the chance for a story. </span><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">(or in this case, a picture)</span></div>
</div>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/77/8c/86/778c861f5f59a796e71ca4ee3eac0cd1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/77/8c/86/778c861f5f59a796e71ca4ee3eac0cd1.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Pinterest)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Laura watches the hands of the clock as they move. A steady
beat. A steady click. Because she's watching from inside the clock the hands move
counterclockwise around the milky-colored face.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Standing on the catwalk is a man all alone. Laura walks out
to him, curious as to why someone else would be inside the clock. Maybe he likes the peace and the comfort of the consistent sounds and movements. His face is drawn, tired, and his eyes are
suspiciously puffy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Why are you sad?” she asks. He simply lets out a deep sigh.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Because of the stories I carry,” he whispers, not looking at
her. His expression shows an even greater sadness now that those words have been spoken.
Laura stands next to him, watching the clock as it continues to tick backwards.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Can you tell me one of your stories?” she asks. </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The man hesitates, then lets out another long breath. </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Very well.” And he beings.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “There was a boy and girl. They were young and they were in love with both each other
and the sea. They traveled the world together, sailing the ship anywhere they
could. But on their last voyage the ship docked and the girl walked out alone.
The boy stayed on the deck, watching. She
tried not to look back, but instead focused on the shoreline. The ship
raised its sails, and when she finally dared look up again, he was gone. That
was the last they ever saw of each other.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Laura listens quietly, but doesn't comment. “Please
tell me another,” she says.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> The man is surprised to hear this, but he continues
nonetheless. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “The author finally finished his first novel. It had taken a
year to write. He was pleased and excited—a job well done. But as he began to read through
it he realized he was wrong. The job was neither done, nor done well. He
started erasing words and sentences, but soon was erasing entire paragraphs.
Then chapters. Taking out material, putting it back, only to take it out again.
Until finally he nothing but a blank page. All that hard work gone. The
story no more.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Laura watches the clock sadly. She doesn’t ask to hear
any more, but the man speaks again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “I have one more story,” he whispers. She waits for him to
tell it, but instead he points at the clock. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “See how the hands turn backwards?” he says. “My time is
running out.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Laura looks first at the clock, then back to the man. A new
understanding comes into her eyes and she smiles. Taking his hand, she guides
him out of the clock and onto the street below. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Look,” she says, still smiling, and points at the clock
face. The man watches as he sees the hands tick forward for the first time. His eyebrows skyrocket and he
looks to Laura for an explanation. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Sometimes when you look at things from the wrong side, it can seem a
little unfair and unsatisfying,” she says.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “But if you look at it from the right perspective, you see
that the boy didn’t leave the girl at the shore—that’s when they first met. The
author didn’t erase his story, he wrote it.” She looks up to see his face. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Your
time isn’t running out. It’s just beginning.” </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">God bless,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>~Amy Rochelle</b></span></div>
Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12230323659737876041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7676226932588021283.post-65989507055635274642015-03-29T13:03:00.000-04:002015-03-29T13:03:10.207-04:00Story Starter Sundays #12<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #666666;">Featured writing prompts from </span><a href="https://www.pinterest.com/writingmaverick/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #38761d;">Pinterest</span></a><span style="color: #666666;">. </span></span><div>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/1d/de/5f/1dde5f13762cab36e000766fa21c5a27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/1d/de/5f/1dde5f13762cab36e000766fa21c5a27.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
God bless,</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>~Amy Rochelle </b></span></div>
Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12230323659737876041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7676226932588021283.post-37979085046074191272015-03-27T23:52:00.001-04:002015-03-27T23:52:31.432-04:00Funny Fridays #12<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">A little humor can go a long way. </span><br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/7a/d2/f6/7ad2f6fe7b032888ffb5671f0f933bfb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/7a/d2/f6/7ad2f6fe7b032888ffb5671f0f933bfb.jpg" width="211" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/83/aa/22/83aa22b01d0e63eee0c329303827985a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/83/aa/22/83aa22b01d0e63eee0c329303827985a.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/db/88/ab/db88ab9a9ab5ef75c5253c87c48f76ea.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/db/88/ab/db88ab9a9ab5ef75c5253c87c48f76ea.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/f2/2d/3d/f22d3d297e3d50bce00217af1b60ca5e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/f2/2d/3d/f22d3d297e3d50bce00217af1b60ca5e.jpg" width="393" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/4a/7b/04/4a7b04ef3d53928979bdfa35e026bc19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/4a/7b/04/4a7b04ef3d53928979bdfa35e026bc19.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
God bless,</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>~Amy Rochelle</b></span></div>
Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12230323659737876041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7676226932588021283.post-40889561963786515112015-03-24T23:39:00.001-04:002015-03-25T00:33:52.274-04:00Two-Fifty Tuesdays #12<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Excerpts of my writing consisting of 250 words. No more. No less. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The following passage was taken from Chapter Six of my novel, <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/writingmaverick/guinea-pig-maverick-storyboard/" target="_blank"><i><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>Guinea Pig Maverick</b></span></i></a>. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/74/04/db/7404dbbdf85fb0ccfe2469803c63a2d0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="117" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/74/04/db/7404dbbdf85fb0ccfe2469803c63a2d0.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Google.images)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> “9635?” I
clarify.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “53,” she
corrects, hazel eyes still glued to those screens. I push the numbers in the
correct sequence. The voice tells me I’m free to make a call. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> I realize
something then. I don’t have either of my parent’s phone numbers memorized.
Never had a reason to. My phone kept track of that for me. My shattered,
broken, completely destroyed phone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> The only
number I have memorized at all is Bob’s Pizza. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Feeling
like the biggest idiot, I punch in that number. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “This is
Bob’s Pizza!” The enthusiastic employee greets on the first ring. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Hi. My
name is Carter Davis,” I say stupidly. “I need you to contact my parents.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Usually
customers call if they want an order….”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “No, no,
they’re not ordering a pizza.” This
earns me an odd glance from the girl. “Look, I don’t have their numbers and
it’s really important that they know I’m alive.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Silence.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Maybe you
could ask around? I don’t know where I am, but I think the people here want to
hurt me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Another
long pause. “Have you tried calling the police?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> It’s my
turn to stay silent. I can’t bring myself to understand just why I chose Bob’s
Pizza over the police. Whatever they used to knock me out before the plane ride
must have caused some serious brain damage or something.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> I
don’t know what else to do, so I just hang up. I choose my next numbers
wisely: 9-1-1. The recorded voice tells
me to enter ...</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">God bless,</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>~Amy Rochelle</b></span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> </span></span>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12230323659737876041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7676226932588021283.post-65142016365370832972015-03-23T20:45:00.001-04:002015-03-23T20:45:19.228-04:00Mature Mondays #9<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Something that is thought provoking and/or inspiring. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/52/58/6f/52586f8fd2996b20204d3d0585b01a3b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/52/58/6f/52586f8fd2996b20204d3d0585b01a3b.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Pinterest)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I saw this on Pinterest and I thought it was interesting. It's something I've never really thought about before. It reminded me the importance for building other people up. Helping them become the best person they can be. That's what part of being a leader is all about.<br />
<br />
It's not about the power. It's about what you can do with it.<br />
<br />
Just some thoughts.<br />
<br />
<br />
God bless,<br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>~Amy Rochelle</b></span>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12230323659737876041noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7676226932588021283.post-83173440566413776462015-03-22T21:56:00.002-04:002015-03-22T21:56:57.810-04:00Story Starter Sundays #10<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #666666;">Featured writing prompts from </span><a href="https://www.pinterest.com/writingmaverick/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #38761d;">Pinterest</span></a><span style="color: #666666;">. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/a2/77/cb/a277cb4a41415affb742c8ab3ed19350.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/a2/77/cb/a277cb4a41415affb742c8ab3ed19350.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Where did this person come from? Another raft? The water itself? Somewhere above?</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Are they here to hurt you or help you?</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
What if YOU are one of the three people? Are you having an out-of-body experience? </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
God bless,</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>~Amy Rochelle</b></span></div>
Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12230323659737876041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7676226932588021283.post-39442097819424841042015-03-21T22:42:00.005-04:002015-03-21T22:42:59.787-04:00Survival Saturdays #10<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Writing advice to help you survive that first draft.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
A quick thing on prologues that I saw on Pinterest.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/9e/d5/0b/9ed50becc310744186c27f7602e3df59.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/9e/d5/0b/9ed50becc310744186c27f7602e3df59.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Pinterest)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />God bless,<div>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>~Amy Rochelle</b></span><br /><br /></div>
Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12230323659737876041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7676226932588021283.post-69058705030933690882015-03-17T21:31:00.000-04:002015-03-17T21:38:16.091-04:00Two-Fifty Tuesdays #11<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Excerpts of my writing consisting of 250 words. No more. No less. </span><br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The following passage was taken from Chapter 5 of my novel, <i><b><a href="https://www.pinterest.com/writingmaverick/guinea-pig-maverick-storyboard/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #38761d;">Guinea Pig Maverick</span></a></b>. </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Pinterest)</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> A distinct
growl comes from behind me.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “HANDS UP!
I want to see them now!” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> I push myself
to my knees and raise my shaking hands above my head. I stare into the barrel of a rifle that’s
just inches away from my face. A single
dog is watching me with his tail wagging and his tongue hanging out of his
mouth. He cocks his head at me. I just narrow my eyes at him. Little snitch. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> One man, a
guard, puts his gun away and pushes me back down to the dirt. My hands are cuffed behind my back and I
stiffen. These are not ordinary
cuffs. More like shackles. Several
inches of metal clamp tightly onto my forearms.
There is no wiggle room at all.
Two men pull me up in a dead lift back to my feet. The barrel of the gun meets my face again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> I’m too
scared out of my mind to try to do or say anything. I don’t know what these
people want, and I can’t stop staring at that gun. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> A man
pats down my chest. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “No tags,”
he comments to his colleague. My arms
are lifted up slightly at my back, forcing me to bend forward. The same guard pulls something out of his
pocket and turns it on. It looks like a
small UV light. He walks around to my
back and I can only guess at what the light’s purpose is. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"> “Negative,”
the guard says. He sounds
surprised. The ...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">God bless,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>~Amy Rochelle</b></span></span>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12230323659737876041noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7676226932588021283.post-53640492432107855902015-03-16T17:03:00.000-04:002015-03-16T17:14:53.986-04:00Mature Mondays #8<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Something that is thought provoking and/or inspiring. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/e3/2f/e4/e32fe446fec419f7d1911f0ba3d99f75.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/e3/2f/e4/e32fe446fec419f7d1911f0ba3d99f75.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Pinterest)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This is just a little something that I've been reminding myself a lot of lately.<br />
<br />
Yesterday especially. I spent a total of 4 hours walking around the mall and driving to various stores. What was I looking for? A pair of shoes to wear to the party happening THAT night. (I do not recommend putting those kinds of things off until the last moment. I very nearly ran out of time). <br />
<br />
It didn't matter where I went, either they didn't have what I was looking for, or they were out of my size. (OR they were $100. Sadly, I'm not that committed to fashion). I must have gone to 15 different places by the end of the day.<br />
<br />
But still, I was able to count my blessings. I got in a couple miles of exercise just walking the mall alone, and I discovered a few new places I might want to shop at sometime in the future.<br />
<br />
Every day I try to find something good, even if it feels like everything is going wrong. It's like a treasure hunt with an even richer payoff.<br />
<br />
<br />
God bless,<br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>~Amy Rochelle</b></span>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12230323659737876041noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7676226932588021283.post-66378169436105411412015-03-15T23:56:00.000-04:002015-03-16T00:18:11.719-04:00Story Starter Sundays #9<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #666666;">Featured writing prompts from </span><a href="https://www.pinterest.com/writingmaverick/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #38761d;">Pinterest</span></a><span style="color: #666666;">. </span></span></div>
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What is the infection? Is it something physical or mental?</div>
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What does it do?</div>
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What if it isn't medical related. What if the infection is informational? Infected with a lie?</div>
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God bless,</div>
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<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>~Amy Rochelle</b></span></div>
Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12230323659737876041noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7676226932588021283.post-19502483955717214532015-03-13T23:15:00.003-04:002015-03-13T23:15:58.736-04:00Funny Fridays #11<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">A little humor can go a long way. </span><br />
<br />
A couple random funny things for the day.<br />
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<a href="http://www.dumpaday.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/06/Fluffy-Cat-haircut.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.dumpaday.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/06/Fluffy-Cat-haircut.jpg" height="320" width="315" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">All pictures were taken from Pinterest.</span></div>
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God bless,</div>
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<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>~Amy Rochelle</b></span></div>
Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12230323659737876041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7676226932588021283.post-21606884974821223912015-03-12T23:44:00.000-04:002015-03-13T11:08:22.094-04:00Thingy Thursdays #9<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">A fascinating object that begged at the chance for a story.</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/7e/f8/8a/7ef88a754ee5f7749c31eb7d1aa16122.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/7e/f8/8a/7ef88a754ee5f7749c31eb7d1aa16122.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Pinterest)</td></tr>
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"Pick one."</div>
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I stare at it. "Why?" </div>
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The leader of our rebel group, the one who spoke, glares down at me. I swallow and choose the blue one. He nods and brings the strange collection of choices down the line of the new recruits. </div>
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"What's it do?" One of the younger ones ask.</div>
"Is a poison?" Comes from another.<br />
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The leader ignores each question just as he ignored mine. "Now drink it," he commands. </div>
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I can almost feel the expanse of the warehouse when the silence hits. No one moves. </div>
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"DRINK IT!" He shouts, his voice echoing even after he closes his mouth. As if deciding to listen to a small voice in our heads all at the same time, we put the liquid to our lips and tilt our heads back. </div>
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I grimace. The liquid is sweet but it burns, bringing tears to my eyes. I pull the end of my sleeve over my hand and wipe away at my cheeks. A coughing fit seizes me and I nearly empty my stomach onto the floor. As soon as the feeling passes, I look over to see how my fellow recruits are handling theirs. I realize then with horror why it seemed so quiet. </div>
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Everyone is lying motionless on the floor. </div>
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My focus is broken when the leader moves towards me. </div>
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"You're immune," he says, as if it were obvious. I look back at the others. I suppose it is obvious....</div>
He follows my gaze. "They're not dead."<br />
"Oh." Relief floods my system. I could have been one of those people. "Does that mean I picked the right one?"<br />
"No, it means you're immune." The leader doesn't seem impressed.<br />
"But they were all different...." My question goes unanswered.<br />
"Come with me." A tough-looking brunette motions for me to follow her. I do.<br />
"Where are we going?"<br />
She doesn't look at me. "I'm taking you home."<br />
I pull to a stop. "What? No! I want to be a rebel."<br />
She keeps walking, encouraging me to do the same with a firm hold on my shoulder. "Sorry, kid, but if you're immune then that means you're on the wrong side of the war."<br />
"J-just because I'm immune doesn't mean I don't agree with the cause!" I sputter. <br />
A moment later and the door is shut in my face.<br />
Rejected. Again.<br />
I don't know what to do, so I stand here, glaring at the door and feeling my life waste away. Everywhere I go no one seems to want an Immune on their side. They think I'll play double agent or something.<br />
"Hey, kid!"<br />
I turn at the voice. A man in a trimmed suit approaches me. I tense, readying myself to run if threatened. <br />
"Couldn't help but hear you want to help the rebels," he says after offering to shake my hand. I don't take it.<br />
"Yes...?" What's he after?<br />
"How would you like to work for us as a double agent?"<br />
I almost laugh. I literally just went over this in my head. "Thanks, but the answer's no."<br />
The man shifts his weight to his other foot. "I don't think you understand," he says, tone still friendly. "I'm with the rebels." He gestures at the warehouse. "Those independent groups don't seem to recognize your worth as an Immune, but I do." He pulls out a small card and hands it to me. "Think it over and give me a call." He turns to leave.<br />
"Wait!"<br />
He stops and looks over his shoulder at me. I don't need time to think. I already know my answer. This is what I've wanted for the past three months.<br />
"I'll come with you," I say. The man smiles.<br />
"Excellent," he says, and gestures for me to walk with him. He looks down at me and smiles. "Welcome to the rebellion."<br />
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God bless,<br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>~Amy Rochelle</b></span>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12230323659737876041noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7676226932588021283.post-85462772692274101022015-03-10T23:01:00.002-04:002015-03-10T23:03:20.922-04:00Two-Fifty Tuesdays #10<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Excerpts of my writing consisting of 250 words. No more. No less. </span><br />
<br />
The following passage is taken from a new story idea of mine called <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/writingmaverick/strain-storyboard/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #274e13;"><b>Strain</b></span></a>.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/d9/7c/ef/d97cef0bba50bc1defaa6b511fdbf491.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/d9/7c/ef/d97cef0bba50bc1defaa6b511fdbf491.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Pinterest)</td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">This is the room where they keep the
featured Mauler of the month. The Keeper
lines us up single file behind the waist-high fence separating the viewers from
the cage. Right now a curtain hides the
Wolf. I hold my breath, waiting for the
curtain to be pulled back from the cage.
This is always the moment that makes my heart jump. There’s no way to know just how the Mauler
will act. Sometimes they’re cowering in
the corner. Other times they just sit on
the cot and avoid us as if we’re not even there. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Not this one. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">This Wolf is standing right up at the bars. He’s in his human form; eyes sharp, flecked
with golden specks—the sign of the Strain in his blood. His thick brow set low. The Mauler walks down our line, his left
shoulder bumping against the bars of his cage.
He looks at each of us as he passes. He stops and stares right at me. I’m not smiling anymore, and for a moment I
forget who’s observing who. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">“This here is Bandit,” the Keeper
announces and then proceeds to give out the standard information. “Nineteen years old. Showed first signs of
the Strain at fourteen, younger than most.”
He chuckles a little. “Named him
after my Chihuahua back home.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">All the Maulers are given new identities
when they come to the Slammer.
Personally, I would have named this one after a bigger dog. He looks powerful. And dangerous. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Bandit watches the ... </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">God bless,</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>~Amy Rochelle</b></span></span>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12230323659737876041noreply@blogger.com2