Foresight

"But-but how can that be?" Allison stuttered. "I thought they lived in this neighborhood!" Mrs. Haversand sighed. "They do-did, I mean. Until they went on vacation to California."

Foresight

It was the face of the boy in her dream.

But that's not possible, right? It must be a freaky coincidence. Either that or she wasn't remembering her dream correctly. Maybe her mother would have an idea.
Stumbling down the stairs, Allison checked her watch. Noon? How on Earth had she slept so late? "Mom?" Her mother's face appeared around the corner. "Oh good, you're up. I was afraid I'd have to break out the old guitar and sing to you to wake you up. Hey, listen. Winnie is over at Kathy's, and I need you to go pick her and Kathy up and bring them back here. Kathy is spending the night so after you all get back, please start some laundry and clean your room." "But, mom-" But Mrs. Pickins had already disappeared into the kitchen, undoubtedly to mop the floor again, or something like that.
Allison hopped into her car, backed out of the driveway, drove down the cul-de-sac, around the corner, into another cul-de-sac, and pulled into Kathy's driveway. She rang the doorbell and Mrs. Haversand opened the door, crying. "What's wrong?" asked Allison, totally creeped out. "My nephew was just killed in a boating accident." Allison gaped. "Matt? Matt is your nephew?" "Yes," said Mrs. Haversand. "My sister's son."

Foresight

"Hi. I'm Matt. Nice to meet you."
"I'm Allison. I've heard a lot about you."
Turning to her friend Bertie, Allison said, "He's pretty nice. You hang out with him a lot?" Bertie grimaced. "Yep, sadly." From behind them, a protesting "Hey!" was heard. Bertie laughed. "Come on, the play's about to start." And they took their seats, in front of Matt and his family.

Waking up, Allison shook her head. What a weird dream, and she didn't even know a guy named Matt. Wiping the sleep out of her eyes, she reached over to her bedside table and grabbed her television remote. Pressing the power button, she mulled the dream over in her head. She was at a play with Bertie and her mom, and Bertie had introduced her to a guy. Named Matt. But she didn't know anyone named Matt.
The TV brought her back from dreamland. Katie Couric was saying, "And now, a tragedy off the coast of California. A family of five was enjoying a vacation and getting ready to celebrate Christmas, when their preparations were cut short. While swimming, their thirteen-year-old son Matt was killed when a motorboat drove too close, knocked him in the head, and he drowned." Stunned, Allison shot upright in bed. Matt? The name- it had to be a coincidence, right? "Here's a picture of the victim." The screen flashed from Couric's face to a photo of a young teenage boy. It was the face of the boy in her dream.

Depression

What's wrong with me?
Why can't I get out of this funk?
I was happy just a second ago-
Now I sit and sigh.
It's not just angst, it's a lot more than that.
I'm not tired, lonely, or morbid.
I'm just
depressed.
That's me.
Right now.

Mrs. McReilly

I strive to make her happy,
hate it when I can't.
She's nice to everyone,
keeps everyone sane.
I love it when she smiles,
it lights up the room,
banishes any gloom,
and instantly,
you
feel
better.
Who is this,
this amazing,
talented,
role model of mine?
Mrs. McReilly,
my teacher who sings.

hey

Hey! I miss hearing from y'all! Keep those comments coming!

Missing from Cyberspace

Hey everyone!-

Sorry i haven't blogged in a while. I've been kinda depressed lately, and I've been reading, knitting, and contemplating the meaning of life for about a month. I either have writer's block or the creative juices have stopped flowing permanently. I haven't written anything since my last post, which was vanfullofnuns. So..... While I drink magic elixers and potions one after another, trying to be able to write again, how about I suggest some books that y'all can amuse yourselves with in the meantime?

1. The Diary of a Young Girl, by Anne Frank
2. The Harry Potter series, by J. K. Rowling
3. The Percy Jackson series, by Rick Riordan
4. The Runaway Jury, by John Grisham
and 5. Kid Lawyer, by John Grisham

vanfullofnuns- the beginning

One day, a beat-up black van was seen driving down an innocent country road. It seemed to be filled with people. What was really in this van, you ask? Let’s go back in time and find out.


“Sister Berrrrtha! We need to gooooooooooo now!” Sister Julia screamed at the top of her lungs. Six nuns, Sisters Julia, Bertha, Molly, Lucy, Eleanor, and Prudence lived in a convent in southern Wisconsin, and they loved road trips, especially when the road trip led to a new church youth group carnival. They loved youth group carnivals, except when clowns are there. Sister Julia hates clowns. They make her need to go to the bathroom.
“Coming! Be patient!” Sister Bertha screeched. “Well, we’re in the van already!” And it was true. Sisters Molly, Lucy, Eleanor, and Prudence were in the beat-up old van that took the sisters everywhere. Sister Julia was still outside of it yelling to Sister Bertha.
Finally, Sister Bertha waddled out of the convent, carrying a large suitcase. “I’m-sorry,” she puffed, for she was a very portly woman. “I-have-so-many-habits! I-needed-to-find-a-big-case-for-them-all!” She shook her curly grey hair. “We really do need to have a garage sale when we get back. My back really is going to break if I keep this up.” Sister Lucy sighed. “In the car, please!” “Fine!” Sister Julia helped Bertha shove her suitcase into the trunk with the others. “Wow,” she exclaimed, “It really is heavy!” Sister Bertha just rolled her eyes. They hopped in the car and were off.




Driving down the highway, singing along with Toby Mac, the sisters discussed where they were headed off to this time. “I want to go swimming!” said Sister Molly. “I want to go to the library!” said Sister Prudence. “I want to go to Liverpool!” yelled Sister Eleanor joyfully. “Where?” asked Julia, Prudence, Molly, Lucy and Bertha. Sister Eleanor made the sign of the cross, as if praying for all the poor people who don’t know where Liverpool is. “Never mind.” She sighed. “What about the petting zoo?” asked Lucy. “We haven’t been to the petting zoo in ages! We used to really like it there, remember? The little goats and bunnies and lambs? They’re so fluffy! Let’s go there today!” There were general sounds of agreement from the sisters, then Bertha remembered, “Oh, no! The nearest petting zoo is three days away! That’s a long time!” She looked like she was about to cry. “Oh, Bertha, it’s okay! We can just fly there in an airplane!” said Sister Julia, the peacemaker. Bertha perked right up. “Okay!” she said brightly. Well, this was a first. The nuns not traveling in their van? It’s never been done before.

Two hours and one-and-a-half Toby Mac CD’s later, the nuns arrived at the Wisconsin Airport, bags in their hands. They managed to find their plane, get on it, and settle down in their seats without one misshape, something that astonished even sensible Sister Eleanor. Once the plane had taken off, the nuns whipped out their cell phones and started texting each other about the petting zoo.

off the webernet

Sorry for not updating sooner. I'm working on a story. I don't want to give it away, so all I'm gonna say is that it's called "vanfullofnuns". One word. Later!

shout out

Hey, Beatle Chick here! I just wanted to send a quick shout out to some people I know will read this! Y'all are the best and I miss ya!!!!!!!!! :)

The Journey, Chapter One: In the Beginning

Okay. Here is the first chapter of my latest work-in-progress. I am working on Chapter Two right now and also on another story too, which I will publish later.


In the Beginning

"Anne! The new neighbors are here! Come meet them."
Anne Cooper looked up from the flower bed she was weeding at the sound of her mother's voice. She stood up, brushed the dirt off of her hands, straightened her dress and her hair, and walked inside.
The first thing she noticed about the new neighbors was their hair. All three of them had brown hair, but only the teenage boy cut it normally. The parents had long, dirty-looking hair that fell just below both of their waists. The man's was long and straggly, and the woman's was roped into one long, thick braid. Now that Anne thought about it again, the boy's hair did look a bit odd, too.
The woman's voice jolted her out of her daydreams. She was saying, "Now, you'll have to pardon George here," she said, ruffling George's hair. "My husband and I let him go live in England with my sister Bessie for three years while we moved to Alabama because of my health, and when the three of us move back up here, George has messed up his hair! In England, they call it a mop top, but it looks more like a rag. Apparently, it's just some crazy fad passing through. i wouldn't be surprised if boys here in New york started wearing it too!" Well, that was quite probably the strongest Southern accent that Anne had ever heard.
Looking down, Anne realized what the woman was wearing. A piece of gauzy fabric formed the sleeves of her tank top, and she was wearing the shortest, most psychedelically-colored skirt she'd ever seen. It was not quite the best first impression Anne had ever had.
Mrs. Cooper introduced them. "Anne, this is Mr. and Mrs. Phillipson, and their son, George. George has been living in England for three years with his aunt Elizabeth. The Phillipsons have just moved next door from Alabama!" All the time Anne's mother was talking, Mrs. Phillipson had been nodding and smiling, but Mr. Phillipson and George just sat there staring into space. Unfriendly neighbors! Anne scoffed in her head.
Anne walked around the room, shaking hands. "Nice to meet you, pleasure, welcome to New York." As she finally reached George, though, she had to put out her hand and wait fifteen seconds for him to grasp it. He finally clasped it and looked up. "You have a very lovely home." he said softly, staring into Anne's eyes. Up close, he was actually sort of handsome, with his accent and his green eyes that seemed to be flecked with bits of gray. Compared to what his parents were wearing, George was actually dressed up, in khaki pants and a collared shirt. "Thank you." said Anne, quite taken aback by the overall effect George had on her.
As Anne walked back to her garden after the Phillipsons had left, she wondered what she would have to do to get George to notice her, but she needn't have bothered.
At their house that night, surrounded by packing crates and an overall sense of chaos, the Phillipsons ate a delicious casserole, prepared entirely by Anne. "Mmm, mmm! Mrs. Cooper sure can bake, can't she, Ma?" said George, eating his second plateful. "I agree this is scrumptious, but Anne made it, not Mrs. Cooper." Mrs. Phillipson winked at her husband as George blushed. "Oh, well, then, Anne sure can bake. I'm full, Ma, may I go up to my bedroom and work on unpacking?"
Just then, there was a knock at the door. "Sure, son, but get the door first, won't you?" asked Mr. Phillipson, but George was already gone. He pulled open the large front door, expecting a solicitor or something along those lines. It was Anne, though, holding a large boquet of flowers. "These are for your mother. Can I help you unpack?" George took the flowers and blushed. "Um, I'm not sure," he half-whispered. "Why don't you come in and ask my mum?" "I will, thanks." Red as a beet, George escorted Anne into the kitchen where his parents were just finishing clearing the table. George cleared his throat."Mum, Anne's here. She brought you flowers."

Who I Am

Hey everyone!

I'm here for you to read because I love to read. As I hope you do. I love writing too, which is why I'm doing this. I'm going to share with you my stories that I've written, but first, I'm going to tell you a little bit about myself.

             I love reading. My favorite books are the Anne of Green Gables series, Little Women, The Diary of Anne Frank, and pretty much any classics. I write short stories all the time, and I am also working on a novel. I also write a ton of poetry.
And in case you were wondering, by the way, my favorite band is The Beatles. :)