We see nature as something we must tame, Someone we must remove ourselves from, Someone to rise above, but Cracks in glass spread like spider-webs, A dancer's dress ripples like ocean waves, We look at the empty sky, And remember there used to be trees. We try to cover the scars we've made in the landscape But we plant the trees in soldier-straight rows, Grown and raised to work to our order of perfection. But it seems strange. The wind whistles through the empty gaps the wrong way.
A/N: Well, here it is! Chapter 17, the halfway point, the turntable. Things are about to change. Here's hoping for an even better second half! #gems#summerofstories16
Master Bordellon came back, with Heather following close behind. Her face was pale, and she was deep in thought. This was concerning, but before I could say anything, Master Bordellon spoke up. "Ok, I'm back. Right now, we're going to help Anna-Claire with chores in return for her hospitality." Anna-Claire nodded and took a step forward. "Josh will wash dishes, Aiden is going to dust, Heather will wash the windows, Zack is going to peel potatoes, and Master Bordellon will weed the garden." Zack frowned. "What are potatoes?" "It's something you eat," I explained. "Oh." Zack looked down at the ground. "That makes sense."
Heyo fellow ywpeeps! to the right of this is the live comments section, so why don't we get to know each other? You can talk about pretty much anything, a reply is 99.9999% guaranteed. Let's get some interactions going! If you want to talk but can't come up with what to say, talk about a book you like! I'm trying to build a reading list and we can get to know some interests. and if you'd rather talk in private with just me, feel free to shoot me a message.
#VermontWritesDay this year was a success! In the morning we wrote for "Seven" minutes (We accidently lost track of time and did half an hour, but no biggie). Then in guitar class our teacher taught us how to write sheet music for cords! Which I'm still mostly confused about, but who cares. I can play Crazy Train, that's all that matters. In the afternoon a guest speaker came in and talked about "Poetry Out Loud" a national competitin for reciting poems, and we did a lot. I accidently memorized a poem anout birds singing in the dark of December. I'm not sure how.
Sleeping under a roof felt strange after the destruction of Pondacrea. I was lucky I was even alive. Everything and everyone I knew had been destroyed. And yet, there I was, staring up at the ceiling. It was almost like the ceiling was telling me I was safe, but that couldn’t be possible. I wouldn’t ever feel truly safe again. Master Bordellon woke us up at sunrise, although I was already awake. He led everyone outside and into the fields, where a large circle of grass had been flattened. Anna-Claire came too, and was bringing a lot of metal sheets, which was interesting. I wasn’t even sure how I was back with the crew. I had ditched them, but after a fun magic purple rock bonding experience, I was stuck with them again. I guess I could have refused to go to the training session, but curiosity had gotten the better of me. Again.
A/N: Well this chapter didn't turn out how I planned at all. Because of #Nanowrimo this chapter favors speed and quantity over quality.I've forgetten what days this counts for, but it's a lot. #digiwrimo#Gems
Traitor. I couldn’t remember being called a traitor before. It was a very accusing word. I didn’t want to be a bad person. But someone could betray bad people, perhaps making them a good person.