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Post by Scream on Jul 31, 2007 3:17:33 GMT -5
I agree, plus there aren't nearly as many people on that site as ff.n, and i'd rather put effort into fanfiction t and get it seen and not really thought about than put some into a story, upload it and end up with someone else working with it and getting the praise for it.
*shrug*
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Post by writ3rgirl on Aug 3, 2007 17:19:10 GMT -5
yeah, like I said earlier, I posted the beginning of OW on fictionpress, but then decided to stop 'cause, if I was going to get published I didn't want the story floating around the net. Then no one would buy it. Also, I agree with moogle, it'd be way too easy for someone to steal it.
Thanks for the praise, though, sj! ^_^
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Post by Fyre Spryte on Aug 7, 2007 16:03:51 GMT -5
wow, it is so amazing to see all of the great ideas floating about around there. I'm not a writer, but I do a lot of reading, so I know good ideas when I hear them. For example, realmer06: your "Whatever Happened to Happily Ever After?" idea sounds brilliant. It's always fun to see new ideas spring up involving old favorite characters. And it'll relate to a lot of people 'cause, whether they admit it or not, EVERYONE loves fairy tales. scream: lol, if you've got some good M/M going on, who needs a storyline? jk Everyone else, like I said, brilliant. Get published so I can read all your stuff. : D
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Post by Fyre Spryte on Aug 7, 2007 16:13:15 GMT -5
lol, DLC I've read and reviewed practically the ENTIRE story already. What else do you want me to say? It's wonderful, you're wonderful, you are the goddess of all fantasy writers. I bow before you. lol
Write the ending!!
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Post by writ3rgirl on Aug 7, 2007 16:17:07 GMT -5
Yay! ^_^ Ok, I am appeased, for now...
I am, I am. I'm reviewing the last bit I wrote even now so I can continue on properly. Oh, and I posted that competition fic if you want to read something new of mine in the meantime. Check it out on my ff account.
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Post by moogle on Aug 7, 2007 17:47:20 GMT -5
LOL, that's you told dragon's lost child.
I'm gonna show you guys a snippet of my story, since I trust you all not to steal, lol. Note, this is a very rough outline, as I am still working on it, and of course it is only a small part of the chapter, lol.
CHAPTER ONE
A young man lay on his back, his eyes shut peacefully in contentment, as he breathed in the scent of fresh pine emanating from the deep-green needles that spiked from the gnarled wood of the pine trees. He smiled as his fingers brushed against the soft texture of the mossy, forest floor, the rich dirt gathering under his fingernails. Tiny rays of golden light filtered through the jade leaves to form a luminous arc over his head, giving a warm glow to his otherwise dark appearance.
His matted, charcoal-black hair fell loosely around his pale face, which was smudged with dirt where he had wiped his grubby hands. The ragged, green tunic he wore was caked with mud and dirt from working on the farm all day, and his fraying, black pants barely protected his thin legs from the snares of the twigs and bushes. His brown boots were worn and tattered, with small holes for his toes to peep out, allowing a chill air to sneak into his boots.
The young man shivered slightly and opened his eyes to look up into the trees surrounding him. They were mostly pine but there were also the great byrga trees: giant trunks of deep copper that exploded into a myriad of bottle-green leaves, which fell like tears from the proud branches that stretched high into the sky. Nothing could get into this impenetrable alcove of trees, and knowing that he was safe, the young man closed his eyes.
This place was like a sanctuary for him: a place where he could find peace and solitude. He knew the villagers hated him, though it pained him to admit it. He was shunned wherever he went and always had been. The village maidens scorned him with their tinkling laughter, and the boys openly taunted him. It was only in this place, this sacred grove of trees that he felt welcome; even though the silent trees and small animals that ventured curiously from their homes were his only companions, it was enough for him. There was no one to laugh at him, no one to mock him, only a beautiful peace that could not be erased.
The light shifted slightly, casting a blurry glow on his closed eyelids. He felt the warm beams of light kiss his face with a gentle touch, and smiled to himself as the light spread down his body to embrace him with its warmth. It was elating to be so close to the simple beauty of nature. Every sound he relished in: the birds serenading him with their strange songs, or the melodic rustle of the leaves swaying in the soft breeze. In a way he felt as though nature was sharing this symphony just for him.
“Blake!” Shrieked a woman’s irritable voice faintly in the distance, disrupting the peaceful aura that had formed. Blake’s grey eyes snapped open in annoyance, their once calm depths taking on a stormy swirl of frustration. The Hollow, as he called it, was a good place to find peace from the resentment and pain that the villagers caused him, but it did not stop the crude yells from Ursula disrupting his musings. It seemed nothing could block that formidable woman’s voice.
Ursula had taken Blake in when he was three years old, just after his mother had died. She seemed to have regretted the action, for she often told Blake she didn’t know why she bothered with him. She never spoke about why she took him in, but he seriously doubted it had stemmed from any affection. Even though the other villagers disliked Blake, it was nothing to Ursula’s fierce loathing. She seemed intent on making his life miserable and was succeeding in her ambition quite nicely. Blake couldn’t complain though; Ursula was the only person he had close to a family, and even though she detested him and often whipped him when he did things wrong, he at least had a home with her. Without her, Blake would have probably been sold to the slave trade and living a worse life than what he did now. Nobody cared about him; nobody would, and though it was a cruel truth to face, it was once he had faced all of his life.
Blake sighed heavily, staring up at the leafy roof above his face, his mouth forming a thin line as he frowned to himself. The fierce, orange glow of the sky showed the sun was setting, and soon night would stretch her arms over the little village of Tereins. The village became beautiful at night. The majestic Valdyrian Mountains pierced the night sky, their snow-capped peaks shining like crystal beacons into the blanket of darkness. Icy waterfalls cascaded from the sharp rocks, falling into clear, glass-like rivers that wove through the dense, dark forests towards the foreign lands. The night sky would reflect on the clear water, making the rivers look like a path of stars, flowing to a glittering galaxy; endless, and always changing.
Blake often wondered what it was like beyond the mountains and the forests where the rivers twisted and turned to the foreign lands. He had spent many hours standing on Balkien’s Hill just gazing out into Dukád Valley, questioning what hope lay beyond. Jade forests snaked up the hills that covered the valley, like large serpents slithering their way towards the open sky, giving a stark contrast to the moth-eaten hills that seemed to go on like an endless maze. Sometimes Blake wondered if anything did exist beyond the valley it seemed so large.
Blake suddenly gasped, leaping off the ground as though burned. Ursula was going to be furious that he had not come immediately when she had called. He could just imagine her piggy, blue eyes narrowing into slits, her thin lips sucking into a firm line as she prepared herself for the tirade. He hated that expression with a passion because it always meant he was going to be punished. Ursula had a short temper, and he paid dearly for it. Sometimes he knew he deserved it, but most of the time she got angry with him for little things. Maybe he cooked the dinner too long, or perhaps he didn’t clean the wagon properly; though insignificant to most people, Ursula treated his mistakes like horrendous crimes. Blake was used to it, but tonight he was reluctant to face her fury.
Dusting off the bits of bark and dirt stuck to his pants, Blake walked to the special byrga tree and lowered his body into the hole where the ground had fallen away to give an entrance to the Hollow. He quickly scrabbled his way through the dirty tunnel, ignoring his face being tickled by the roots dangling from the soil above him. Quickly he scuttled back up out of the connecting hole at the other side and started to run swiftly towards his home through the cluster of trees, pushing branches out of his way, not even caring if they cut him in his haste.
Suddenly he heard a stick snap from behind him, followed by more crunching, as something or someone, moved in the trees. It sounded big, though maybe there was more than one. Blake knew these forests could be dangerous, but he had never really thought anything would happen to him, for nothing ever had.
Blake swallowed slightly, wondering if the creature would bypass him, he knew he had no hope in protecting himself, for he neither knew how to fight, nor did he have a weapon so he could even attempt protecting himself.
Heart beating uncomfortably from the fear spreading through his body, Blake turned his dark-grey eyes towards the trees to stare intently at the shadowy outline moving towards him from the forest depths. He saw four of the older boys from the village laughing and joking loudly as they walked through the trees. His stomach plummeted in dread, a sickening feeling growing in his stomach. These boys may not be wild animals but they were just as dangerous to him. He could see by the bow and arrows on their backs that they had been hunting and just wished they would continue walking without seeing him; unfortunately, it seemed Black was not going to get his wish.
The tallest of the boys stopped and smiled maliciously at Blake. If it were possible, Blake’s stomach plummeted even further. This boy had never liked Blake, and like Ursula, he seemed intent on making Blake’s life miserable. His name was Michael, and he was a rather stocky eighteen-year-old, with curly, blond hair and a jutting chin. Blake did not like him, nor did he particularly feel like talking to him, as he knew that this conversation was not going to end in his favour.
Michael did not seem to notice Blake’s hostile attitude, for he started to walk lazily towards Blake, appraising him with a mocking expression in his watery-blue eyes. Blake clenched his fists slightly but his expression remained calm.
“Look boys.” Michael said in a gleeful voice, his thin lips curling into a sneer. “It’s the little, Valkrin boy. Watcha doing, Blakie?”
Blake gritted his teeth slightly at the sound of the old taunt. Perhaps in a different life he would have had the courage to stand up to Michael, but this was not another life; this was reality, and in that reality Blake was weak. It was pointless even trying to fight back, but he knew that staying would be just as futile. He was already in trouble with Ursula, and he needed to get back home before she got really angry with him.
“You gone mute all of a sudden?” Michael said roughly as he took a step forward, his watery eyes boring into Blake’s own grey ones. “Well?”
“I don’t have time for you.” Blake said quietly as he started to walk away, inwardly hoping that for once they would just leave him alone. Always he had to listen to their derisive words, and always he let them. Tonight, however, there were more important things to worry about.
“Not so fast.” Michael said curtly, one of his beefy arms grabbing hold of Blake’s wrist in a vice-like grip. Blake struggled against the hold on his arm but it was to no avail; Michael was just too strong for him, and so it was very reluctantly that Blake brought his eyes to stare at Michael’s smirking face. Just seeing that smirk made Blake’s blood boil.
“It’s your birthday today, isn’t it?” Michael asked with a sly smile, his colourless eyes lighting up gleefully. Blake did not like the expression on Michael’s face and felt his heart quicken. It was true that it was his sixteenth birthday today, but how that interested Michael, Blake was unsure. If this was just another stupid prank Blake wanted nothing to do with it. He had to get home and they were just getting in the way.
“What of it?” Blake said coolly, frustration layering his normally quiet voice. He hadn’t even realised that Michael had released his wrist in his anger, though he could still feel the dull throb where the blood had lost circulation. All he could think of was how much he hated this boy before him, and how much he wished Michael would just leave him alone.
Michael leaned forward in an imposing manner, so that his colourless eyes were level with Blake’s. Blake could see the other boys moving closer, smirks on their faces. He looked back at Michael who was watching him with his own smirk, and felt his blood going cold with apprehension.
“We wanted to give you a little birthday present, isn’t that right boys?” Michael said with a sinister laugh, gesturing his head at his two friends. The two other boys grinned stupidly, their blue eyes lighting up with a menacing gleam. He noticed the boys’ hands forming into fists and backed away slightly; he knew that Michael and the boys’ birthday present was not something that he would like.
Blake knew he had to get out of here before he was beaten to a pulp, and so he gritted his teeth, hands clenched at his side, and walked past the boys. Michael’s bulky body blocked his way, and Blake felt his anger bubbling to the surface, his teeth grinding in his frustration.
“Let me past.” Blake said icily, thrusting Michael out of the way, only to feel something hard crash into his jaw. He swayed as a blanket of foggy, black dots clouded his eyes and a disorientating buzz resounded in his ears. His face was throbbing painfully and he could feel his eyes burning. Blake never cried and he was not about to start now, especially in front of Michael and his tag-along friends.
Gathering his wits together, and keeping his mind from focusing on the pain, Blake walked determinedly away from the boys. He knew he would look like a coward but he had no choice. He just wasn’t strong enough to take Michael and his gang on; he would just have to face being ridiculed once again.
“That’s right, Blakie.” Michael taunted loudly, as Blake walked towards the trees. “You go home and cry to that fat hag about how nasty Michael hurt you; not that she’d care anyway.”
Blake stopped dead in his tracks, hot rage flowing through his blood. It was not enough that he already had to suffer the loneliness he felt in knowing that no one cared for him, but he also had to listen to them tease him for it. He was so tired of it all.
Slowly Blake spun around to glare at Michael. He could see the mocking smirk twisting Michael’s, ugly face and felt the burning in his blood as his breathing quickened. The adrenaline was taking control but Blake was still holding himself back. He wished he could wipe the smirk of Michael’s face but he knew that was what Michael wanted. He wanted Blake to fight him just so he could prove that he was stronger than him; Blake was not ready to give Michael that satisfaction.
Taking a deep breath, Blake turned away from the boys and continued to walk back to his home through the trees. He could hear their catcalls and laughter following him but he did not stop in case he lost his resolve to keep calm. If there was one thing Blake hated, it was losing control of his emotions. He prided himself in knowing that he could become oblivious to the taunting he received but deep down he knew he was only lying to himself. The words never truly left him, simply digging further into his heart, causing the emptiness inside him to grow until he felt no more than a hollow shell.
The thick clusters of trees started to lessen, allowing the fiery sky to bathe him in full light, as he came towards the edge of the forest. He could smell the delicious scent of pork wafting towards him in the wind, and he suddenly realised he had not eaten for a long time as his stomach gave a loud growl of hunger.
Blake quickened his pace in anticipation of the food awaiting him. He had gotten nothing but stale bread for the past few days because Ursula claimed there was not enough meat for the both of them to eat, so she ate it herself. Blake still felt the prickles of resentment at the thought and had a niggling worry that she might not give him anything tonight because he was late. It would be just like her to seize on any excuse to claim his share of the food for her own, even if it was his birthday.
Brooding on how Ursula was going to react to him coming home even later now, Blake continued to walk through the forest, while trying to ignore the growing ache in his jaw. He knew a bruise was going to form, but it would just be another one to add to his collection. If the bruises weren’t from Ursula, they were from Farmer Tom, and if they weren’t from him, they were from Michael and his friends. Complaining about one bruise to anyone, even himself, was laughable. He had just learnt to deal with it, and so had everyone else.
It was with some relief and yet also reluctance that Blake saw the smoke rising from the little, stone chimney of his house. It was one of the poorest houses in the village. The walls were made of wood that had been salvaged from the forests, and then the house had been built hastily so that it appeared as if it were about to collapse; it also meant it leaked terribly when it rained. There were no windows, for glass was too expensive, and the wooden door was rotting. The small pigpen was falling apart, and the little stable for their horse was barely standing. There was no cheery garden, no cobbled stones leading up to the house, or overhang to shelter people by the door; everything was muddy and in ruins.
Blake sighed and walked towards the house, the pigs grunting as he walked past them through the thick mud that layered the ground, while the scrawny, chestnut horse neighed loudly at the site of Blake. His tired expression relaxed slightly into a small smile, allowing his stormy-grey eyes to take on a warmer tone. He walked up to the horse to pat it softly on its nose, his fingers brushing against the silken mane.
Blake had loved and raised this horse since it was a small foal. He felt a sort of bond with the scrawny creature, for they both suffered under Ursula’s unfair hand. He had named the horse Fadrek, which in the old tongue meant ‘freedom’. It was his promise to himself that one day he would ride Fadrek into the rugged hills and together they would find their freedom.
“At least someone is happy to see me.” He whispered fondly, scratching Fadrek’s ears gently. The horse nudged its head against Blake’s hand and whinnied softly.
Just as Blake was about to speak, a shadow descended over him, blocking the sun with an ominous darkness. He knew without even turning around that Ursula was standing behind him, her hands on her hips, looking at him with that annoying expression she always wore.
Ursula was a very large woman, past the days of her youth. She had wrinkles gathering at her beady, blue eyes, which were always narrowed in dislike, and her lips were usually sucked into a thin line, bloating out her cheeks to make her look just like a pig. Her greasy, blonde hair stuck to her face in matted bunches and her beaky nose protruded from her otherwise piggy face. Her plain brown dress had food stains spattered all over it, but unlike Blake’s clothes, Ursula’s dress appeared to be in relatively good condition.
Slowly Blake turned around and inwardly sighed as he noticed her expression. She was breathing heavily, her lips in the thinnest line possible, which was a telltale sign that she was in a very bad mood. Before he could do or say anything, Ursula raised her hand and clouted him around the ears, her eyes narrowing into slits.
“You’re late.” Ursula announced, as though he had committed a terrible crime.
Blake flinched slightly from the pain, and tried to ignore the loud ringing that once again buzzed in his head. That was twice he had been hit now; he only hoped it would be the last for tonight.
“I’m sorry I got-”
“I don’t want to hear your excuses, you stupid boy!” Ursula cut in, her coarse voice grating at Blake’s ears, making him wince. “You should know by now that when I say to come, you come!”
Blake nodded his head meekly, though inside he was fuming. He knew that Ursula was just waiting for an excuse to hit him again, so he kept his expression calm, merely waiting for her to say when he could go inside so that he could get away from her.
“And don’t expect any dinner either.” Ursula snapped viciously, causing a bit of spit to fly from her mouth. “I spent three hours cooking that meal and you, you nasty ungrateful brat, decide to come when you please and ruin it.”
Blake remained silent. He had been expecting this anyway, so there was no point in arguing with her. He simply folded his arms and tried to ignore the rising irritation growing inside him as his stomach gave another violent growl. This was turning out to be one of the worst birthdays he had ever experienced. Working all day on the farm, getting punched by Michael, and now he had to go without dinner again!
Ursula glared at him suspiciously for a moment, and Blake knew she was wondering why he was being silent. She seemed to decide it wasn’t worth the trouble as she let out a dramatic sigh, stalking past him back towards the house, her many rolls of fat wobbling grotesquely. Blake distinctly heard her mutter, “I don’t know why I bother.”
Blake groaned to himself, for those words were never promising. He followed Ursula inside, inwardly cringing at where this was going to lead tonight. Another tirade was sure to come, and he would be stuck unable to say or do anything until she was finished. He could only hope that she would not bring out the whip again, for his back still ached from the last time he had been punished.
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Post by writ3rgirl on Aug 8, 2007 15:37:41 GMT -5
oh yay, moogle! I'm so psyched to be reading part of your story. I've been looking forward to seeing some of your writing. ^_^
Ok, let's see... the descriptions were amazing. Everything was so vividly detailed, I had no problem picturing the forest, Blake, everything. You've definitely got a strong understanding of the english language, and your nice use of metaphors and other figurative language really gives your writing an extra edge, and makes it that much more beautiful.
I feel so bad for Blake- his situation reminds me of Harry's home life. Being stuck growing up with a woman that hates him, being picked on by Michael and his gang, always feeling alone, etc. At least he's got his horse.
Oh, I'm sorry, I'm off to give blood now. *shudder* I'll continue my review later, but this excerpt was really good!
Ok, I'm back. They didn't take my blood 'cause my iron count's .2 lower than what they wanted. *sigh* the downsides of being a vegetarian. Back to your story, though.
I love Blake. He's a really strong person to have taken that kind of abuse for so many years and still have a strong sense of self worth. I can't wait to see more of him!
As far as criticism goes... um, there were a couple typos which I'm sure you'll catch if you read it over, but overall it was very neatly done. And... there were I think three paragraphs in a row that started with the word Blake, so I think maybe you should vary the beginnings of those sentences a bit. lol, sorry for being overly critical, but I just like hearing constructive criticism, so I like to give it if I can find any. ^_^
Um, so yeah. This is awesome. I hope you keep writing it!
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Post by moogle on Aug 8, 2007 17:59:24 GMT -5
Hhaa, yeah I know there are probably lots of stuff that needs to be fixed. I haven't even read over what I have written yet *gasp* I just free write my stuff and then go over it later, lol.
I never really noticed how similar Harry and Blake's situation is, but you are right! I draw a lot of his character from some of my own experiences, so often how he acts is how I would act in those situations, lol. I guess I wanted my first character that I write to be close to what I understand.
I'm glad you like him though, as he is my main character, and it would be horrible if people were not interested in him, or didn't want to get to know him.
Anyway, thank you for those encouraging thoughts!
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Post by moogle on Aug 12, 2007 0:20:59 GMT -5
So, I'm taking up the position of Creative writing tutor, but I would like to have a co-tutor of sorts to help me out. Especially for when school becomes too busy, etc.
I would love it if someone offered to help me out with this, so just PM me or Elle, or even just apply in the thread for the muggle teacher registrar
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Post by LizzyMarch on Aug 12, 2007 23:26:06 GMT -5
Hey, just so you guys know...there is another website i get on, it is called quizilla.com, you can publish stuff there, but you can make it so people can't copy/paste, so there is like no way people can steal it unless they write it down (useless)
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Post by moogle on Aug 14, 2007 16:54:07 GMT -5
That's interesting, but I still prefer to keep my writing to myself, lol.
Oh, just to let you know, the job as co-tutor has been taken.
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Post by Scream on Aug 15, 2007 3:50:18 GMT -5
Okay, here is a very simplified version of my story... it hasn't really been worked on very much, but here we go...
Gothic Novel Proposition. By Sarah Kelly
The main character is a teenage girl, Cam, who has moved to a new town with her family. After a week of settling in, school returns from holidays and Cam is enrolled into the local High School where she doesn’t know anyone. The first few days go along as normal, meeting people and catching up in lessons. Two weeks into the term Cam and her family fall into a routine.
After a few weeks, she got into a fight with a classmate. That after noon she missed her school bus due to a meeting with the deputy about the fight, forcing her to walk home. Taking some shortcuts, she ended up on some streets she hadn’t used before.
She came to a dilapidated mansion. No-one could possibly live there, yet as she drew closer, a shadow flittered past a window. Continuing past the house, the shadow changed windows. The closer she got, the faster it moved. Coming to a halt at the end of the long driveway leading to the house, she became entranced by the moving shadow as it danced from window to window. Unconsciously taking a step forward, Cam became lost in the movements of the shadow.
As she was about to step onto the property, a loud bang echoed through the street. A car door was slammed. The noise startled Cam back to reality and saw how late it was. Glancing towards the house, she saw the shadow was gone.
The next day, Cam asked a friend about the mansion. He seemed worried, but wouldn’t tell her anything. Annoyed, she asked others; yet no-one would tell her anything; many denied its existence. That afternoon she returned to the mansion, to find out more. Walking towards it, nothing happened; the shadow did not appear. Staying on the driveway, Cam went to the front door, stopping there, still not seeing any movements, grime obscured her view when she tried to peak through the glass panels in the door., she moved back again. Looking up along the front of the house, a creak was heard and the front door opened revealing a shadowy entrance.
She entered, but once she was inside, the door disappeared and she became trapped. She looked around some of the rooms, but each room the same derelict look, as if they had been sitting unused for hundreds of years. She moved upstairs, hoping to find something. After looking through some more rooms, she found a door which looked new. Upon entering, she found herself in a room of what she first thought were real people dancing; soon to find the people inside the room to be clockwork, dancing to their mechanisms.
She moved away from the dance floor and looked around the room, everything tarnished once more. She heard a creak and moved towards a door which had opened. Apprehensive; but not sure what to do, Cam stepped into the light filled room and a boy stepped out from the shadows. He scolded her for coming to the house, saying she shouldn’t be there.
He walked towards her, his steps matched by her own as she backed away, afraid of the boy, but not really sure why. Suddenly another door opens and a teenage boy enters and upon seeing her, starts yelling at the young boy. She flees from the room and traces her steps back downstairs. Only the rooms are different then before, the doors lead to somewhere else. She continued to run, not bothering to glance behind her, she could hear the boys following, still yelling at each other.
Eventually their fighting stops and she cannot tell where they are. She continues to run, occasionally stopping for breath. A few times she had one of the two boys turn up and start saying how the other was bad and wanting to capture her and claiming they would be able to get her out. She eventually is cornered by both boys and is forced to decide. She choses the younger boy and ends up stuck as a clockwork dancer, moving forever to the hands of time.
*shrug* Let me know what you think. It is meant to be a gothic novel, so supernatural and creepy and everything; but I did not want a happy ending. lol.
Makes me think of Dr Who... Clockwork people!!!
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