note: I wrote this short "prologue" 1 and 1/2 years ago, so don't judge! This is simply for entertainment's sake, ok? To see how I've improved, lol.                        

Prologue

A little girl, about the age of six, was running in the back-yard. All was well; from a distance, one could see the glowing face of a proud father, chasing his rosy faced girl who had happened to wear a slightly faded, though still positively cherry-red dress. One could even imagine the birds chirping in the sweetest of ways, of the girl’s shoulder-length, sandy hair flipping slightly in the wind as she ran, and of the father’s ringing, but somehow distant laughter.

No-one on Byrd Street had the slightest idea that little Melanie Snow’s life was about to take such a sharp turn, for everybody were already used to the cheeriness and joy of the little grade-one girl who so dearly loved all of her neighbors – even Mr. Grey, who turned out not a bit interesting, intriguing or polite.                                                                                                                                     But that was where Melanie’s life took her, and no-one could save her from it.

The wind swished around in the morning, trying to block out the sun, which seemed to shine it’s brightest whenever the wind attempted to take over by it’s full force. The birds really did chirp happily, and the father really did laugh, and his daughter’s hair truly swished in the air, until an unfortunate moment during which Mr. Snow’s loveable wife opened up the creamy-white, smoothly-painted window and cried out that someone was knocking on the door.

The tiny girls startled, looking up at her mother with big brown eyes. “Mommy...” she squealed, “mommy, who is by the door? I can feel somefing! Somefing is happening!”

The father exchanged glances with his wife, and she nodded, biting her lower lip so much that the skin around it turned white. The woman’s slightly-pale face had suddenly turned albino white, and she seemed to fiddle with her dress, which she did only when she was nervous or scared.

“Mommy, daddy!”

The two adults turned around and found themselves looking at their daughter with comprehension. Steadily, the father lifted Melanie off her feet, but she continued to squirm and kick – she had never raised such a tantrum.

Suddenly, Mrs. Snow looked up at the sky and gasped. “Alex! She... our girl... no...”

The sky really did seem to darken, and soon giant clouds were swimming in the sky, doubling by the second. Slowly, the dark, stormy clouds started producing heavy rain, that started falling to the ground. But no, they seemed not like ordinary raindrops; for when the first drops fell to the sky, both man and wife seemed to notice how heavy and full of force they were. One could even see the slightly-maddened glint in the pearly water that seemed to rain upon the world with something like revenge, something that the unfathomable monster had been holding back for years. Only it probably hadn’t, for it had rained only last week.

“It isn’t her, is it..? No, no, Alex, Melanie cannot be producing such magic! For that means that... oh, if it does then... it means... she is not our real daughter!”

Alex gaped at his wife. “Yes, she is. I can feel it in her hands...” he tried shushing his uncomfortable-looking daughter and pressed his lips to her forehead. Then, clasped her tiny hand in his. “She is our daughter, that’s for sure. But how does she have that – “

An angry knock on the door was heard.

The father ran into the house, not looking back, but at the same time rocking his daughter back and forth in his hands. When it slightly worked, he shut the door behind himself, and started gulping air feverishly.

“Who’s knocking at our house?” he asked loudly, walking down the staircase alone. The father’s footsteps echoed on the stairs, as Melanie watched, curled up in Mrs. Snow’s hands.

“I have come to give you your Fortune Stone, Mr.”

“I will – “The father reached out for the door-knob, swinging the door open.

Out in the rain, though completely dry, stood a man in his early twenties; he had small, slit-like, black eyes, a small curved mouth and a log nose. The stranger was wearing dark grey, billowing robes, and he was holding a medium-sized, red glowing stone in his hands. “Ruby, I say. Fine stone – Infinite, has one drop of a tear and a couple of tea-spoons of Silver Flower. Mixed and boiled in hot water. Ah...” the stranger extended out a pale hand. “I did my job, did not I?”

“Yes, yes, you did. Thankyou...” mournfully, the father rummaged in his pockets for change. “You go now, and don’t start wondering around here. Right?” at that, Mr. Snow closed the door behind him.

As he did so, he only had time to clasp his wife’s ice-cold arm, and all she had time for was to finish scribbling something on a note; then, quick as a flash, she stuck it to Melanie’s faded dress with a pin. Letting her down, she whispered, “Go to Antonya’s house, and tell her that “the thing” happened today. You hear me, my love -?”

Her voice began distant as she, along with her husband, started shrinking and melting, soon becoming translucent. A wind swished, the sun appeared once again, and the little girl cried.

Frederick And Elfrida book review

Hey guys! So, today I picked up the lovely book “Love and Friendship” by Jane Austen and instantly began reading; I sincerely don’t know why, since I have not yet completed my “Northanger Abbey” an “Game of Thrones”, let alone all the volumes by Edgar Allan Poe, yet I swooped in as a hawk and just now had had the pleasure of completing “Frederick and Elfrida”, a humorous short story published by the authoress when she were just in her teens.

The first few things I may wish to say is that her style is somewhat different; she mocks her characters in such a perturbing and amusing way; the points of view switch from one to the other; the heroine, Elfrida, is simply so irksomely different to the silly Catherine Morland; the flow of the tale is quite fast-paced; and, that the dear Frederick is simply such a candy.

I wish to write a short story of the same sort. Maybe I will?
However, this is all I should bring myself to say right now! Until next time.

Mind your Style . . .

In the hustle and bustle of the twenty-first century, it may seem hard to not be stifled under the peer pressure of newly-released books; fans will certainly soon, if not instantly form “ship names”, create fanfictions, become obsessed with the novel. But what if, other avid bookworms try push you into their crowd?

Here are my own tips and tricks for not taking it with those guys. . . You may ask me, “have you read the new —“ and I must hurriedly inform you, with an attentive shrug and red in my eyes, “no, I do not read fickle rubbish by new authors, thank you very much!” I have, a few times, tried to be pushed into reading books I did not like from a first glance (and that is not to say you shan’t try giving new writers a chance, of course!) a few times by my year three teacher, then a couple of students, then a said friend.

They, however, (and it has led me to believe that —) tried hard to give me advise, but countless times nothing worked out. Sincerely, nothing worked out.

1. Openly State your Favourite Author . . .
You think you have a voice? Good for you! You may create a blog, start up a YouTube channel, website, fanfic, book full of loving sketches of, say, Henry Tilney (Northanger Abbey), something of that sort. If not, then simply walk about, reading your decided writer, and when you feel somebody ushering you to try something else you may not feel quite comfortable about (be it the level of the writing, the appropriate illustrations or no, grammar — why publish a book, ever, even if plot is good with abominable grammar?) tell them so.

2. It is But Your Choice. . .
Reading. It establishes, more often than no, the carrier you shall wish to take up. If someone talks to you of astronomical elements, meteorites hitting poor dinosaurs, exploding black holes in the universe, then — sure! It may strike a new hobby — but if your main choice in life is to forever stay a hairdresser, why know all that? It is your choice. Reading what is popular to read is but your choice, SIMPLY and honestly your own choice, and that is that. However, of course it is good to always new learn new things, and that is all true — but, not if you read simply for enjoyment, do not wish to know of the latest “Nicki Maxwell Dork Diaries” or “Tom Gates” fan theory, just say it. You read for your future job.

3. Give Books a Chance. . .
You, of all people, may not feel at all comfortable reading other novels not in your genre, decided style of writing (I have a post on that) or simply conflicting with the illustrations. But if in any way or form it shall help, for your future, for enjoyment — read it, and if you have gone to a certain length, you still feel empty, then put away the book and return to your style of choice.

Terms and Conditions . . . FANFICS?

Hey, so. I have decided to keep on writing posts, like obviously, under the tag “Shattered Reality”. But I will no longer be doing any sneak-peeks. That is, because I wish to have my work showcased only on Wattpad, for a few private reasons, therefore that is that. You are of course welcome to read the 24 chapters that ARE up and available, thought the rest is up on Wattpad.com, of course, under the username @Starry_Birdie .

Plus, I would now enjoy going through terms and conditions for SH#1. Please read this, if you wish to log in and get involved in the world of Wen. Remember, on Wattpad you may comment on every of my chapters, share, vote, promote, and follow. It is a great way to discover stories.

1. No Fake Consiliis?
As much as I love to have gone over the 1.3K, highly anticipated number of views and 300 votes, I do not — cannot, will not and shall not — bare with any type of going-ons happening in Consilii, or any other part of the Little Planet and its universe that has not been written by me. If it’s clearly a fanfic, then pray state it in bold letters on the cover of your tale.

2. Fan-fictions WHERE?
If, at any point, you think of my story worth mimicking, meaning, being written about as a fanfic, then please display it on fanfictions.net or Wattpad.com ... I cannot give valid reasons for this, however I kindly ask that you follow the rules and do not display them anywhere else. The end.

3. The last STRAW?
If any of the above happen, I shall have to report. That would would be the last straw for me and for you. I would report. Second-last line: not to be transmitted, reproduced, et cetera. Bottom line? Thank you, for reading my book. I appreciate. Now, go little BIRDIE, fly, write a fanfiction for me, but no inappropriate talk. Be specific who the author is. Truly. Bye.

I’M giving . . . wHaT another go? (Listen to your teacher)

About September last year I gave Pride and Prejudice a read and, honestly, did not like it. To me, the sentences were plain (hard) and the plot did not move so fast. However, my Year 5 teacher, and by far one of my two favourites, encouraged me to give it my all — in other words, another go. I dismissed the idea for over seven months, and now, went to the bookstore . . . I looked through classics, books by Oscar Wilde, Arthur Conan Doyle, Mark Twain, the Bronte sisters. . . I saw the cover of Emma and Pride and Prejudice alongside Sense and Sensibility. I affectionately sniffed the pages of P&P, decided to buy it (the previous time I tried reading, I borrowed the book from a family friend) , then gazed at what seemed like a volume half the size of P&P.

“This will be an easier read, I suppose. It’s smaller, if I don’t like it I don’t have to read more. Just got to get through the relatively-thin book.” It’s a small volume, and I don’t mean that 200+ pages isn’t much (which, in my opinion, honestly isn’t) — rather, what I mean is it is a pocket-like paperback volume, KM Classics, and I am already 10 pages into it.

You might wonder what it’s called? Northanger Abby. So far, it reminds me of the style from The Little Women. Catherine seems like Beth to me, except that she is at first plump then slimms down, while it’s quite the opposite with seventeen-year-old Miss. Moreland. . .

Anyway, I thought I haven’t written a post for some time. It’s like a small reminder that “Hey, I’m still here!” And a thank-you to my dearest Grade 5 teacher, if you’re reading this (because I know you read my review for Little Women, I think, last year) — then please know I’m so blissfuly glad at you for finding me writing competitions, encouraging me . . . Oh, also, shoutout to another teacher, she teaches me right now, Year 6. . . Anyway. Thanks everyone whose read my stories, given me feedback or just smiled . . . Ehhem. I’m done. Yo. Buye. kids.

Shattered Reality Synopsis

She got sent to Consillii,  a continent on a planet surrounded by many others and on the other side of a fearful, black hole. With her she held a stone, a quartz, and now a Lordling wants it, to become the Lord, the King.

And he won't stop. Leading a tribe of jinns into war is a mere trifle, let alone killing two wizards and almost torturing a girl who he thinks has what it takes for him to control everything, to become the Infinite and the One. Of course, an eleven-year-old girl who just suffered the death of her best friend is capable of holding onto some pink rock, isn't she?

What Truly Matters (my entry for "Whitlam Institute Competition 2019")

What Truly Matters

“What matters to me” seems like a question worth answering. Indeed, it is. And, I am fully aware that many aspiring biologists may have written about this, for it’s a popular matter, but one that, frankly, doesn’t seem to be addressed properly. As a brief, somewhat-snappy example (bear with me, for it’s simply a “for an instance”) ... fast food cafes; they still use plastic straws, and it’s outrageous! For, not only can our beautiful planet be soon covered by a vague – but, I am afraid, still distinct – layer of plastic – it can also cause fatal deceases, and, even worse – kill the lovely animals. It might be our fault, so we should pay (isn’t that right?) but, crustaceans – sharks – whales – even land creatures – have done positively nothing wrong.

Now, first, I am to talk about how littering our planet with straws, chip packets, water-bottles and even gum (which is polymer, similar to what car tyres are made of) can affect our own mental health. Yes, if you are so inclined to save yourself from the matter that you’ve (consequently) created, then let me tell you; pollution causes a type of cancer. So, rather than throwing away your cheese-stick wrapper into the stream nearby, think – that it all will go to the ocean and you – yes, you – may experience something deadly in return. Cancer.

Now that we’ve got that covered, I wish to speak of the less-liked fish. Sure, the Angler Fish look scary, but imagine if it were you? And now try comprehend a piece of gum floating down beneath the Sunlit zone, and catching a small baby-fish in the sticky contents of its trap? Yes, now, again. Empathy. A beautiful word, eh? – and a useful one. Again, that one Fangtooth old-granny fish may die because of you.

Then, dolphins. Ah, my most favorite creatures of all! – and what wouldn’t I give to become one, at that. One of the most intelligent animals of all, and so loyal, playful, slippery (I’m a Pisces) and full of happiness. They even adapt by travelling in threes, so that if one gets injured the other two may support its’ body whilst swimming back home. They’ve done practically nothing wrong, and probably want to live their life at the fullest. But... imagine them snacking on the insides of a plastic bag or something of the sort and you aren’t as happy anymore. Please, for the godly sake of dolphins – please – pick up rubbish whenever you see it. Just an odd piece will be enough, I promise.

And lastly, probably the most-favored sea creatures (not for me, though) – turtles and sharks. They’re so different, but need the same things – though in different amounts. Yes, even the Great Whites need affection, care, and love – and who wants to think of how to try and survive every other day? What if a straw comes up one’s nostril, what then? Oh, and they also need to feed. Before, plankton fishing nets have been brought out only to be filled with wrappers, packets, containers, gum, bags – and you can help.

What’s your favorite sea animals? The flat-faced “pelican eel”? The “sarcastic fringehead” (sounds like me) Remember, you’ll be doing a favor for some kind of fortunate soul out and below the aqua shoreline. Please, do not be like the kid I saw the other day in the school yard kicking a yoghurt-container with his shoe. Be... a role model, and stand up for humankind. For dolphins.

Mindful This Month

Is there anything wrong with your story, that you would like to change? That you extremely don’t like? Makes you feel simple, like-minded, even ashamed? Well, if there’s something you’d like to change, badly, then sit down somewhere you wouldn’t be disturbed for a while, get a notebook, and write down all that you don’t like about your little novel.

Now, once you are done, list reasons why you aren’t happy with what you wrote/are writing, and, one thing at a time, think of what you may do to change/rearrange the content. Don’t feel stressed out if the parts are major to the plot, let yourself breathe. Look around, observe, smile, breathe in deeply through your mouth and exhale through your nose, feeling content at the very core. Don’t stress, decide dates for when you want to finish each step of the way, and start to work mindfully — bit by bit.

At the end of each day, collect your thoughts and decide for what you have done for your book to improve it. Don’t stress of its nothing / too little, just decide for what you’ll improve on tomorrow. Keep things going like that, and to feel energised eat, not only what you enjoy, but at least a few fruit / veggies, some carbs, and dairy, so you feel good.

Stay mindful, stay writers
— Yvonne

Ya guys like my new cover? I got it made by a user (see above) on Wattpad, and am in love! It's like glory in a new dress... nvm. So yeah, wanted to let y'all know, cos i'm super proud of this and everything, and kinda wanted to show off... sorry.. hee-hee

Guys, I know this isn’t a Sea Website or anything, but I just wanted to have my voice heard over all of this puking glitter and plastic sabotage. I know, most of you try say no to a plastic ocean, like me — I’d do ANYTHING to keep dolphins alive, btw — but... there are some who are still unconvinced. Like yesterday, I was passing by at Lunchtime in the school yard and saw a kid kicking a bit of plastic with the sole of his shoe, and I was like “HECK watcha doin’?”

Just letting y’all 140+ followers know that even bacteria, such as crustaceans, and up to our beautiful big whales — they need to feed, and even if the ocean looks clear from your point of view, there’s millions of fragments floating around down there... so... please, if you want to keep the oceans safe and going... just for the love of turtles...

Also, thanks to everyone who ain’t usin’ ‘em plastic straws, I’m so glad! But did you know, .... the pollution is also bad for humans, actually! Because, it’s important to have low and high tides — even spring tides — and especially currents of water travelling from place to place,  it if plankton nets are filled with this garbage, then what can you do?? Please, help. Save dolphins.

Also, if you don't already know this, pollution causes cancer so it's a win-win to save animals by not using plastic!

Chapter Twenty-Four Sneak-Peek

The lordling paced up and down the cabinet, every now and again looking up at the banister, shooing away at the maids in bonnets and butlers in suits. At one point he sat down into his throne, and locked the small golden gates that led to it, feeling the carpet of velvet smooth under his feet, when a little man bustled by and he called a guard to come take him to the dungeons. Feeling somewhat bored, he stretched his hand to candidly take a sip of his drum wine, slurping as he ran his spare hand through locks of red hair, steel-black eyes focusing on the feel of his tresses.

He did not appear to at all feel like an animal in a cage, as he looked up at the walls, all illustrated with him at graveyards, planting blades into necks, bloodied on the ground kissing maidens, looking like a raging storm on the battle-field, landing an arrow at a green boy's chest and... a painting much similar to another one, with him pinning a woman with her hair up in a beehive against the walls of his stone castle, in her skin-revealing dress, all bruised and sweaty from the workout but still able to push his lips against her cheek, hand gripping her backside. That was love he growled to himself. That was love at its fullest and then she hit me hard, right in the heart...

He touched his thraes (bear-like) skin cape, fingers gripping at the pink quartz intertwining at the loose fabric, velvet like his carpet. A large canvas with illustrations of him walking in an alley, so narrow three relatively-slender man could not walk abreast, with an apple-like fruit glowing bronze in his hand, heard covered by a hood, showed in front of him, much with the other deeds that he had done.

A bowl of fruit-like objects sat beside the teacup on a table of ivory, but there seemed to be something missing . . . ? Puhkinz. They were, in Earthian, much like pumpkins, — actually, they were pumpkins, except that the outsides were crisp and crusty while the insides were all orange goo, one that was not meant to be devoured, but rather left on the face for a Time or two, until it were taken off and put in the bin. Ahh. Not quite like pumpkins, but still pumpkins.

Arachphat "Arach" had, irritated, pulled at the string on the bell attached to the wall, which clipped to it, as if the rope were a cord. A ding-ding-drrrrr echoed upstairs, over the bannister, and to the left, where the kitchen was, and out of a little pebble by the string there projected a voice. "What is it, Royal Prince Arach?" The pale cheeks of the twenty-six-year-old (so to say if he were Earthian) sighed, feeling tired.

His eyebrows, previously like caterpillars (on Earth) but now smoothly cut to two slanting lines, furrowed and knotted, eyes steel-black, as he flexed his jawline, running a hand through red, unmattered hair, face chiselled, high-defined... nose was long and straight, like a Russian one (Earthian references again, bare with me), his body taught, shoulders extremely large, thighs thick, he lean and strong, back pulled and massaging his temples.