rockingdebater

To those of you interested:

I posted this on www.storywrite.com originally, felt I'd offer it up to those of you on here as well.

So this was inspired by an author from here, a couple years back....unfortunately I don't remember her name, but her idea was genius in my opinion.

The idea was basically this, writing a story together. Similar to the add lines, but different.

What I've done is start a story on www.blogger.com , but there's characters that need to be filled. I tell you who they are, you can mostly choose their personality.


The storyline will be this: Michael comes home on spring break with the keys to his friend's family summer home. He wants to bring a friend and his sister along. When he tells his sister though, the group grows. By the time they get to the house, there's 7 people. All's fine until a man shows up to give them a warning.

email me at springreader@yahoo.com and let me know if you want to do this and what character you want (allowed up to 2 characters).

Characters:
Michael(brother of Evelyn)-me
Evelyn(Evy-Michael's sister)- Lynn storywrite.com/lynnwinchester
Katherine (Kath-Evy's friend)-
Chris (Michael's friend)-
Kellen (guy who loaned house to Michael)-
Michelle (Kellen's girlfriend)-
James (Evy's boyfriend/nonboyfriend)-
Aiden (friend of Michael's)-
Jessie (Evy's friend)-
Mr. Trevors (visitor who warns)-

www.writersblock89.blogspot.com

There was a huge blackout several years back in the summer, power was knocked out in several cities and a couple states I think. My sister and I were at our aunt and grandma's house for the day. We didn't notice anything at first because it started in the day and my sister and I were kids, so we were outside playing, not caring about the power. Then our grandma informed us about the power and we all figured it would come back on in an hour or two, it didn't. We spent the evening outside drinking ice tea and then when it got late, we went inside and played cards via candle light and had a battery powered radio playing. It was probably one of the best nights I've spent with my grandma and aunt.

Snagged from </a></a>
Rules:
a. Type your answer to each of the questions into Flickr Search.
b. Using ONLY the first page, pick an image.
c. Copy and paste each of the URLs for the images into Mosaic Maker. Change rows to 3 and columns to 3.
d. Save the image and post it on this note.

Questions:
1. What is your first name?
2. What is your favorite color?
3. What is your favorite food?
4. Favorite drink?
5. Dream vacation?
6. Favorite hobby?
7. What you want to be when you grow up?
8. What do you love most in life?
9. Best self-description?

Print news is very important. Just today I was going to class and I was able to pick up a copy of our school's paper. I'm a reader in general and will read just about everything. I have found however that I am most likely wiling to read a printed peice in the paper as apposed to if it were online.
There are many people who don't have internet and so the newspaper is their only source. I do believe that the newspaper will continue. It's not only important to me, but it's also important to society.

Six years ago lives were changed forever,
No one knew that morning,
That they might lose a loved one.
No one knew  what was going on in those men's heads,
The moment they boarded the planes.

They focused on the tasks of the day,
Arguments flared,
Over something frivalous,
Jokes were passed around,
Laughter arising.
The date wasn't thought much of,
Maybe joked about.
No one knew what the day held in store.

When things started getting serious,
Passengers pulled out their phones,
Called their loved ones one final time,
Some prayed, some screamed, 
Some just talked to the person on the other line.
They knew then what would become of them.

One and then another,
Fell to the earth.
People fell,
As many watched in horror.

For those that were alive on that day,
Who are old enough to understand what happened,
It will be a day burned into our minds.
The people that died,
They'll always be remembered,
Their families not to be forgotten.


God Bless everyone affected on 9/11!

Title: Proud Hugger
Disclaimer: Own nothing
Characters: Sam and Dean
A/N: written for the hug a winchester challenge
Rating: G

Hope you had fun with this poll. It was sure fun to make. God Bless!

As the title says I'm a bit bored and in the mood for a prompt. I want to write a story at the moment, but have writer's block. Which, I'm sure many get annoyed with. Anyways, anybody got some ideas/prompts for me you can let me know. Whether it be for a normal story and a Supernatural fic. Either way's cool. I'm just in the mood for something. Later. God Bless!

It was a cool night; the sort that are so common in early June. The moon was waxing and the stars were bright, reflecting off the few clouds in the sky. On one quiet street was a house with lanterns on the porch. Moths and other nighttime insects hovered around the light. Occasionally, one would come too close and meet its end in the open fire, and the others fluttered on, unaware of the passing and the dangers. Inside the house, music blared just above the warm roar of the house’s inhabitants. People talked and laughed; a few brave individuals danced, giggling at their own efforts. Someone had brought a game of Twister; someone had brought a poker set. Couples wandered out the sky, every wonder fresh.
Every wonder fresh not just to those in love, Theresa found as she sat out on the porch. There was just something about nights like this. She felt the cool breeze and smelled the wet earth (it had rained earlier in the day). Crickets chirped under a starry sky. Did they chirp just for the joy of being alive? Theresa was certain that she would. It was an unexplainable, unsolicited sensation, but something like a laugh bubbled in her chest as she sat, watching the world. “Oh holy night,” she whispered, because she couldn’t help it. “Oh holy night.” Nothing more than that, for nothing more was fitting.

“It does seem to be a sort of ‘holy night’ doesn’t it?” a male voice said from behind her. She knew the voice well and turned to look into a pair of sapphire eyes.

( Read more... )

Note-This was written for fun/for a contest on another site. Enjoy. :)

Hi, name’s Ian Walker, ace reporter, well, not really ace, more like very small time reporter, ok, I’m not much of one, someday though. I can still remember my first story; it was about a guy who supposedly swindled some loot from his neighbor, but the police didn’t have enough hard evidence to arrest and convict him. I had been a freshman in college at the time and an intern at the local paper. My boss had this story he’d been given and he didn’t particularly want it, so I ended up with it. What he hadn’t told me though was that the guy’s place was basically out in the boondocks. I can still remember going to the guy’s house, which was a little more like a shack in the middle of nowhere, but that’s not the point.

I’d driven up his drive, which had been rather long and holey. There wasn’t anybody outside when I completely pulled up, which I found weird since it was actually a nice day, but I figured he didn’t like the outdoors or something. I’d knocked on the door, which appeared like it was about to fall off, which made me not knock very hard. When the door opened I saw a man, in his middle ages, rather heavy, jeans, a dirty t-shirt, and a beer in his hand. I admit that I had actually grimaced when I first saw him, basically because he looked so, well, dirty, and after talking to him, drunk.

“Hello, sir. I have some questions to ask you.” I’d said in the most journalist type voice I could muster.

“What’s it?” he asked, sort of slurred.

“Well, there’s been talk that you stole some stuff from your neighbor and I wanted to get a story about it.” I told him.

“Story huh? In the paper sort of thing?” he asked after looking at me strangely, he obviously wasn’t the brightest bulb out there.

“Yeah, so any comments about the whole ordeal?” I’d asked him, my pen ready to write.

“Uh yeah, one question, how good do ya run?” I had thought that was an odd question, I mean, that’s not the usual question you’d hear when giving an interview about a theft.

“Ok, I guess.” I’d replied, giving him a strange look.

“Well, ya better start running boy, ‘cause I ain’t answerin’ no questions of yers.” He’d said while pulling something out from behind the door. I’d backed up right away when I saw what it was, a rifle, pointed directly at me.

“You wouldn’t shoot me, would you?” I’d asked, a little afraid.

“Run and we won’t find out.” He’d told me as he cocked the gun. I’d run as fast as I could, more or less jumping in my car when I got there. I’d driven away from there as fast as I could, not caring about the potholes. Now, I know, that might be considered bad journalism, not staying to get a story, not matter the danger, but the guy had a gun pointed at my chest, I was a freshman in college, and not quite ready to die, so I just hightailed it out of there.

Now the notebook that I’d brought, had very little on it, it had the date and the word “Notes” on it, that was it. He’d never given me any information, but at this moment I didn’t care. Mick, that’s my boss, was a dead man. I was sure, and sort of still am, that he knew that this guy had been psycho and that was the reason he hadn’t wanted to go after the story himself, that or he just felt the story would be boring, but in any case, I wanted to kill him. I didn’t though; I just let him know I was angry. After I’d pulled into the parking lot and grabbed the notebook I’d stomped into his office. I’d said only one thing to him after walking in, truly angry at him and at the whole ordeal.

"Next time," I'd said, flinging the notebook onto the desk, "Do your own dirty work."

Alright I was thinking about this. Why do people feel the need to stereotype other people. Like, they go to that school so they must be this, or they're wearing that so that be that, etc. I mean, why can't people just wear what they want, in modesty, and not have to worry about other people judging them for who they are. I mean there's titles out there, punk, prep, jock, geek, nerd, etc. What really defines these categories? I tried to pinpoint what I might be a while back, but came to the ultimate conclusion(sort of already was there, was just pondering it), that what I listen to, what I wear, and where I go to school isn't what defines me, what defines me and what defines everybody is what's in their heart. I know, it sounds sort of mushy, but it's so true. I mean, you could see a person, wearing heavy eyeliner, red and black clothing, listening to hard music(without hearing the words to it yourself), and autimatically asume they're a punk and possibly a person that you may not want to trust, but so what they enjoy wearing those clothes and listening to that music. For all you know they could be the nicest person in the world, but because of the music they listen to and the way they dress, you assume otherwise. Now I'm not going off on everybody, because I know there's people out there who don't think this way. This was just something I was thinking about.

Holy Cow! It's almost Friday, actually technically according to the time it is Friday, but anyways. I'm stressed, huge history test tomorrow, over two chapters, one of which he just taught us today. And then next week it's finals, yeah I know it means the end of the year, which I'm very excited for, but finals! Ahhhh! Let's see there will be Physics, Bible, Government, Pre-Calc, and History, all, except Bible and Government, and maybe Physics, are going to be hard. Gosh,  I should not have to feel stressed before Summer break, but I guess that's high school. Grr, can't wait til college, and yes I know again, more work, but after I graduate from that and get a career I think it'll all be worth it. Well, that's it. Life can be stressful, but we get through it especially with God's help. God Bless all!