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Creative Writing Share your fan fiction, stories, poems, essays, editorials, song lyrics, or any other related written work. All written must be your creation. Start a new thread, and keep replying to that thread as you add on more chapters. Anyone can join in at anytime.

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Old 06-20-2008, 10:07 PM
zarlene Offline
New Trainer
Join Date: Jun 2008
Posts: 1
Wink Comment on my story please?

Hello. I sorta wrote a story. Not much is done but a little bit of the beginning is. Could you comment on it so far?

may not be clear enough yet so heres a lil summary of the beginning
theres this princess named Amaya. She's disguised as a peasant. Her country, Cacada, ++ another country, Celentry, are waging in war. She dressed up as a peasantry woman. During the time an action took place where all the peasants (women) were forced by guards of Celentry to board on wagons. They are being sent to the castle of Schloss where all prisoners of war are kept.
yeahh may not be clear cuz whole intro isnt done. XD lol tryin to make it long so yeahhhh. but would help if you could comment on done so far! :) <3 please and thank you!


“Mommy what will happen to us?” came a faint whisper.

“Nothing. Nothing at all” a sincere, gentle voice replied.

“Then Mommy, where’s Daddy and Brother Hayme? I miss them.”

Amaya’s dark brown and beady eyes drew mournful at the sight of the elderly mother speaking to her son. A thin trail of moonlight traversed through a small gap of the roof, shining a faint gleam upon a tear droplet smoothly sliding down her pale, bony cheeks. She exasperated slight, small coughs in a way to conceal her temptation to wail. Moaning would break the hopeless, yet inevitable silence prevailing among the women in the wagon. At the sight of his mother’s reaction, a small boy crawled to her lap, lay his delicate head on her chest, and shared her grieving moments in silence. He felt vulnerable with the one whom he depended his life upon losing all her confidence. Desperately had Amaya tried to turn away and prevent undergoing the nightmares passing from one woman to the next. She choked in her tears and refused to reveal her hidden sorrow. Bravery needed to be shone upon the hopelessness of all the peasantry females in the wagon. Though silence dominated, the cries of torture and pain still quietly shouted up into the skies. The mothers lived in somber darkness from losing their dear ones in the reckless path of war. They prayed silently, trying to reach out and hope a miracle would bring lost ones back. The could not even take hold of their children and husband’s dead bodies, and instead were struck by sheer shame for just asking. Families slowly dissipated as the time of war increased. Amaya’s face grew from a tanned, light brown to a deep red from anger.

Vroom! Bam! The wagon shook vigorously as it used greater momentum to proceed uphill. Most of the mothers and peasantry girls closed their eyes and clutched their younger relatives. Amaya, however, tried to accustom to the sudden tremors. The sea of her curly deep, dark black hair flew against the fierce winds attacking from outside a window. Other than the agape, yet small opening, Amaya felt imprisoned by the boundless walls enclosing around her. Deeply in thought about future actions, Amaya clutched her slightly shimmering, purple shawl enveloping the lower portion of her face. She gazed through the window as her hair still kept fighting off against the strong breezes. Now with the shimmering moon blockaded with seamlessly dull clouds, no ounce of light penetrated through the azure night. The time came where only amorphous shadows were bound lurking in the depths of the forests that stood near the trail that the wagons had taken. Guards dressed in gallant armor sat aloft tall, majestic stallions of a black darker than midnight. Each guard clutched onto a sword and shield; they held weapons to protect and signal threats for disobedience.

Soon the travel became tedious. Through all the sorrow and anger, many women managed to close their eyes and fall asleep. Amaya remained attentive. Too many ongoing thoughts came to her to allow her to drift off into relaxing dreams. No matter how hard she tried, Amaya’s race of thought became disrupted by the wailing of a child. Amaya looked around to find herself facing the elderly women and the little boy. Many peasants who fell asleep awakened because of the boy’s piercing sharp screams. They huddled around the boy and tried to assist the mother on silencing him. Poor boy realized what happened to his family. thought Amaya. She remained in the corner of the wagon and watched sympathetically at the crowd of females huddling around the infant.

“Who’s accursed baby dares to make such a racket?” shouted a deep, gruesome voice. The question emanated from the mouth of one of the guards. Though the mask concealed most of his face, his eyes still sang out with fury. Silence. All the peasants gathered in the corner where Amaya sat; all gathered except for the elderly women and wailing boy.

“Hand that wretched infant to me. Now!” ordered the guard ferociously. The elderly woman hung on to her young. She felt reluctant to let her only live kin go off into the hands of the men who killed the rest of her family. Now, however, she lived as a prisoner; her life dangled on a small strand of thread. Her future lay in the hands of her family’s murderers.


to be a long you better be patient......

Last edited by zarlene; 06-20-2008 at 10:20 PM.
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